#she’d probably announce it but at the same time it’s more like a doctor being like I’m going to give you a shot now

[dykedvonte]

I think Curie would have issues with personal space and not understand why there is a sudden issue of her invading peoples space now that she’s a synth.

Logically, Curie would believe it is how she is open about being a synth and people still aren’t fully comfortable with them despite the Sole Survivors efforts. In actuality it’s the case that as a Miss Nanny bot people really didn’t care if she hovered close. While people aren’t always big on robots their general status as helpers and understood programming to hover around those they assist would make people say “Oh she’s just following her programming” vs as a synth it’s like “why is she standing so close and why is she asking me if I had contracted any diseases recently???”.

It’s not something she’d immediately recognize and correct because it just was never an issue before and now in an organic body that biologically crave connection and contact with people, it’s just a big jump. She’d definitely learn quickly out in the wastes but it’s just something I feel she’d struggle with at first and find fascinating as she reflects on her learning process in her research.

[newobsessionweekly]

Join me

Main masterlist | 9-1-1 masterlist

Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!firefighter!reader

Fandom: 911

Fluff, smut

Summary: They have to shower after each of their firefighting operations and Y/n keeps catching Buck half-naked so often, that she asks herself if Buck specifically want Y/n to see him. And things heat up after a call.

Warnings: Probably poor quality smut, descriptive sex, mentions of blood, injuries.

Requested: No

Words: 1.8k

Requests are open for Buck / Eddie !

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

“Ok, but there’s two of us now, how come we have to share the same changing room with you guys ?” Y/n stops Eddie from babbling, tired of being afraid someone would peek at her naked body once she’d go out of the shower. Speaking of, just for the record, the shower is shared too.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. Hen’s been sharing changing room with guys for ages! And not only with us, dealt with worse!” Buck turns his head to stare at you out of those washed-out blue eyes while still chewing on his food.

You can’t lie, it didn’t bother you that much to share the locker room with the sexiest firefighters of LA, what really bothers you are the sneaky peak you and Buck been sharing.

Buck was some of the most wished-for firefighters in town and you can’t blame all the girls that are throwing at his feet. With those ocean blue eyes, one painted with that mysterious scar making girls wonder what’s the story behind that bravery and only after they go through his bed are served with the truth; it’s just a birthmark. His muscles are showing up in that uniform, popping out and taking any breath away in a shirt. And not to talk about the uniform. Anyone looks sexy in a uniform.

Leaving behind the looks, Buck is the most selfless person you’ve ever met in your life. He’d do anything to save every single one in a case, no matter is he’s crashed by a car, train, building or any other hard thing that could end his life on spot. He’s always ready to take that risk. You, on the other hand, are ready to follow the instructions.

He’s the most reckless person, but his heart’s so big it wouldn’t stop beating soon. And he knows that. His heart is not only beating for him, to keep him alive, it’s also beating for all the people out in the world that need help, that need him.

What really bothers you are not the looks he’s giving you with any chance, but the electricity you feel run down your spine every damn time he’s around you or even looking at you. His reputation isn’t a secret and all you wanna do is to avoid getting hurt.

You were zoned out for a while, playing with the food and ignoring all the voices around you. Only one stood up in the crowd and you’d recognise even in your sleep.

As alarm echoed through the station announcing a car crash with possible multiple injured, you sipped out of your coffee cup and jump into the paramedic ambulance.

As you walk back into the station, covered in blood, you let the boys to take a shower first. You approach Buck, holding him back for an inspection.

“Could you be more reckless?” you hiss at him, looking down at his bruises and opened cut on his arm.

“I’m fine, Y/n. I just got the usual bruises.” you press a cold compress on his head before cleaning the cuts.

“And a concussion.” you rolled your eyes.

As he stood there, patiently waiting for you to get your job done, his blue eyes searched for your body. From head to toe, you are the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Smart too, very brave and bossy. Shame you didn’t want to stand up and ignore Bobby’s orders. You’d make a great team.

“You know I can take care of myself?” you did know that, what you didn’t know was why all of the sudden you decided to play the doctor on him.

You were scared when he jumped right in the middle of the flames to save a dog trapped inside a burning car. Your heart was racing like it would pop out of your chest any minute and your eyes filled with small tears. Just the smoke, you’d tell everyone.

When he returned safely with the small dog in his arms you could finally breathe out. All you wanted to do in that moment was to hug him and yell a little.

And yet, you didn’t know why your body would react that way.

“You’re all done right now. You should take a shower, you’re smelly.” he nodded.

“Thank you, doc!” he smiled.

You can’t help a smile, cheeks burning red. You liked that, all the funny names he called you all the time.

You made your way to the locker room, keeping your distance. Everyone was back in the kitchen upstairs, Eddie watching your moves. He could tell something’s going on between you two, all the looks, the way you’re inspecting Buck’s shirtless body, like you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

You remained in your underwear before heading to the showers. You really need to take off the blood. Hearing the water running down, violently hitting the floor, you soon realise it was coming from your usual shower spot, seeing Buck’s shape beautifully contouring on the curtain’s surface.

“You took my shower!” you screamed at him.

“Sorry, doc! Problems with the other ones. They’re out of service.” Buck pokes his wet haired head out. “But you’ll free to join me, if you can’t wait!” he winks.

You can’t wait, the cold air embraces your naked skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Move!” you demand, joining Buck.

You were full grownups after all, a shower isn’t that big of a deal. You’ve seen him half-naked countless of times before and you suspect he’d seen you as well.

Hot water pouring down your body felt like heaven. Warmth hugging you as perfect as this moment was, not minding Buck’s glancing down at your side.

You peak at him, causing your body to burn up in excitement. Every inch of you desired to be touched and you finger tips aches to trace the shape of him. To help him get rid of the dirt, of course.

His hand touches your arm, cleaning the wound you’ve won yourself today.

“You’re injured.” Buck whispered, so close to you now, can feel the warmth of his freshly minted breath.

“Just a cut, I’ll live.” you joke. Looking up at him, water was framing his face so sinfully. You watched a small thread of water paint his nose, those red juicy lips, then going down his chest, stopping at the lower part of his abdomen. Your eyes locked on his erection, and your hands caressing up and down his worked arms.

Buck cupped your cheeks, locking his gaze in yours. Forehead touching, he searched for your permission before hungrily brushing your lips together.

You splay your hands across Buck’s chest as he swirls his tongue around yours. He got you already high over his touch, but the kissing in out of this world.

He press you gently on the cold wall, water still flowing down over both of you, sneaking under your touch. Your body trembles as his hands wanders up and down, memorising your curves. He stops for a moment over your breasts, caressing one by one very carefully, like he would want to remember their shape. You racked your nails through his messy wet hair and down across his back, his lips escaping a little needy moan.

Buck pauses, lips barely touching, taking his time to look in your eyes as his hand went down. “You’re so beautiful!” You breathe the same air, you share the same desire. He admires your intoxicating beauty while shoving his hand between your legs, making you break eye contact and throw your head in pleasure back into the wall.

His lips ghosts over your neck and your fingers lightly run over his abs and down to his erection. Buck kisses you hard, like his life depends on it, like he’s addicted to your touch and wants to feel your name on his skin a whole lifetime from now on.

Moans and desire flying in the air, Buck plays with your wetness before he impatiently lifts your hips up, forcing you to hook your legs around his waist. You hold on into his shoulders, closing the distance between you, he pulled your hips up and down, setting a peace as he buried inside you.

Sinking into him, digging your fingers into Buck’s shoulder, the rhythm became incoherent as both of your bodies burned in indescribably pleasure. You want him as much as he wants you.

The Earth stops spinning and the whole world evolves around you two. That moment is about you and Buck, covered in exultation and savoury. You feel his pulse inside, fire pooling low in your abdomen, waiting for Buck to put it out for you.

He run his tongue over where your lips meet, your eyes running back in delight as your moans melts together under your kiss. A spring coiling tightly and then being release, both of you dissolving into pleasure under the hot warm water spreading your love into the air.

You stayed there, in that sweet embrace minutes before one of you could do something. You enjoyed the moment and rested on Buck’s arms, tears of joy welting with the water caressing your bodies. Buck didn’t want to let you go, afraid you’d disappear as soon as his eyes would open. Instead, he inhales your smell, so unforgettable. He’s convinced it’ll haunt his mind, his dreams, countless days from now on and he’s sure as hell he doesn’t want to forget any second you spent in that shower.

“I’m glad you came back safely today.” you murmured into the base of his neck, your fingers still lightly tracing his shape.

“Will always come back in one piece to you.” he answers, placing a soft kiss on your wet hair.

You raise your head, searching his beautiful eyes. Buck can’t help a smile, seeing you so vulnerable before him, still trusting him enough to let him admire you like that. He locked you lips again, this time so soft, afraid he’ll hurt you with just a touch. You melt on him with every touch.

“We should go back.” you broke the silence.

“Yeah, we should.” he agrees. “I’ll go first, take your time.” he kissed your cheek and disappeared behind the curtain.

When you returned to the kitchen, everyone was eating one of Bobby’s delicious meals. You grab yourself a plate and sat across Buck, avoiding his sight, afraid you’ll lose your sanity. You’re smelling like Buck and sex combined, the best combination you’ve ever smelled.

He locked your eyes and you both smiled like idiots, still drunk over the moment happened in shower, just minutes before, a few feet away from everyone else. But you don’t care, it was your moment.

“Don’t really wanna know what happened back there, you idiots! Stop devouring each other at table!” Chim jokes as your cheeks burn red again.

[jomiddlemarch]

Room at the inn

“Liv and Alex are gonna stay with us a couple of days,” Joel announced, if you could call it an announcement. He’d used the same tone he’d use to tell her Tommy was wanted some help with the framing of the place three doors down with the rotting sills or that Ellie had used up the last of the milk, again. He was leaning against the wall by the front door, the two younger people, dirty, in the hodge-podge of ill-fitting clothes that meant they’d just arrived and were lucky to have escaped frostbite, stood slightly in front of him, as if he’d wanted to make sure she wouldn’t shake her head and say, like hell they are.

Like hell she would.

“Sounds good,” Grace said. Something changed in Liv’s face that meant the young woman had expected to be turned away.

“Ellie said she’d take the couch, so they could have some privacy,” Joel said.

“Might be a tight squeeze,” Grace said, not clarifying whether she meant Ellie, who’d grown several inches in part due to always using up the last of the milk, on the couch or the two newcomers in the room that barely held Ellie’s twin bed, a chest of drawers and a book-shelf Joel had cobbled together from some scavenged lumber.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” Joel said.

“I can put together some fresh sheets, towels. And there’s a few spare toothbrushes in the bathroom, if you want to get cleaned up,” Grace said, remembering how much she’d missed bathing when she’d been out on her own. When it had been too risky to ever take off her boots, let alone her parka and long johns.  

“We’ll eat supper in about an hour,” Joel said. He straightened up and started walking over to Grace, which effectively herded Liv and Alex toward Ellie’s room. He put his arm around her waist, a casual possession they’d be sure to notice, registering that Joel and Grace were a couple, that it was safe enough to be casual about revealing who you cared about. “It’s through there, your room, and the bathroom’s across the hall. If you’ve got anything that needs to be looked at, Grace’s our doctor. She’s patched me up more times than I can count—”

“Because you won’t count over three,” Grace muttered, playing along.

It worked. Liv smiled, just a little, and Alex’s shoulders dropped, the fist at their right side opening up. Liv nodded and they walked into Ellie’s room, shutting the door behind them very gently.

Grace walked into the kitchen and went to go look around for what would make a supper that stretched to two more mouths, ones that would probably kill for something heavy on carbs and whatever sauce conveyed the feeling of being cooked for a long time in a home where someone would call out Supper’s ready, someone needs to set the table.

“My night to cook,” Joel said. It was, but it was also a pre-emptive strike, a peace offering, as if either was necessary.

“You don’t think I mind you brought them home?” Grace said.

“You’re always doing for everybody else and this was a surprise,” he said, tying an apron around his waist. She went over and held his hands still where they were behind his back, the apron strings loose. She wasn’t tiny and he wasn’t huge, but standing like this, it was impossible not to notice how big he was, built like a brick shithouse as they used to say when people made bricks instead of scavenging them. He was under her command entirely by his choice. They were in a funny sort of embrace but they found themselves like that more often than not, which made sense, since Joel was more a man of action and Grace found it easier to show him how she felt than tell him. Before, she’d been someone who’d bought into the whole Nora Ephron chatty rom-com definition of love. Before, when love was something you fell into, deep as the ocean. It had been over a fucking decade since she’d seen the ocean and she probably never would again.

“I’d’ve said yes. I would have brought them home and I wouldn’t have thought you needed an apology or any sweet-talking about it,” she replied. 

“Maybe I like sweet-talking you, Gracie,” he said.

“Then do it for that. Not because you’re worried about pissing me off bringing people home who need a roof over their heads and a warm meal and a good night’s sleep,” she said. 

“A good night’s sleep’s a tall order for two on Ellie’s bed,” Joel said. He hadn’t made a move to tie the apron or put his arms around Grace. He liked being held this way, though he wouldn’t say so. He wouldn’t think he needed to and he was right, he didn’t.

“You know what I mean. Plenty of times I would’ve given anything to be taken in. Plenty of times I wished I could offer someone a safe place, a safe harbor,” she said, moving a little closer, so she was pressed against him, offering and claiming more inextricably blended than the old shampoo-and-conditioner 2-in-1 that no one under twenty had any context for. Suave, that had been the cheapest, and she’d gotten the strawberry bottle, a pale pink like a bride’s manicure. 

“Maria would’ve found them a room somewhere, but I didn’t think you’d like that, even if we’re a little crowded,” Joel said. 

“I wouldn’t,” Grace said. “A room somewhere’s not as good as a home. And what’s the good of a home if you don’t take people in when they need it?”

“You’re gonna have to let me go, if I’m makin’ supper,” Joel said, but before she could step back, he leaned in, grazed her temple with his lips. “And you’re gonna have to keep it down tonight, when I make you come, darlin’.”

“You like it when I say we’re home,” she answered.

“I do,” he said softly, in a voice she never would have believed him capable of when they’d first met. Tonight was in a fair way to turning into right here, right now, and while Ellie was out of the house and had learned the hard way to knock, Liv and Alex were guests who deserved a hot dinner and the ability to come out of their room unexpectedly to ask for a glass of water.

“You making your famous chili?” Grace asked.

“Nah. That needs all day to be any good. I figured I’d do spaghetti with a Bolognese,” he said.

“Can’t go wrong with a huge bowl of pasta,” Grace said. “That’s my favorite comfort food.”

“Yeah, I know,” Joel said. 

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah! This gift-fic is for @tessa-quayle and @daisyyydaisyyydaisyyy who are probably my two biggest fans of Joel/Grace. Here's something warm and domestic for the holidays.

[percontaion-points]

Clawless chapters 27 & 28

Today's review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 27

I hadn’t been able to escape my late-night conversation with Reed, and it had dragged me back to that day in the closet with Potter. He might say he saw me now, and knew I was more than just my pack status, but that memory was too raw to just forgive and forget. They’d thought it was fine to force me onto my knees for some random guy, just because I was worthless in their eyes.

I get that it’s difficult to look past that.

Yet at the same time, she’s willing to look past all of Jasper’s belittling, treating her like shit, throwing her under the bus when he thought that she’d taken wolf fire, and him putting a magical slave collar on her. 

I’m simply calling out how fucking shitty she’s being in refusing to forgive Reed for participating in her attempted sexual assault WHICH HE APOLOGISED FOR, yet instantly forgiving Jasper for every single thing because…??? He’s the endgame relationship????

“We’re very focused on keeping you safe, Ms. Marrow. The breach at your accommodation was unacceptable, but it was a good wake-up call. A reminder we have to be vigilant at all times.”

Literally the first time in 4 chapters that Vail is being painted as an actual victim in what Trey did. 

A hollow promise, but I clung to it, and fell into that pine-scented darkness.

Chapter 27 summary: Vail wakes up early, thinking about her attempted sexual assault because she and Reed had been talking about it the night before. 

As she’s sneaking from his room in her pjs, she runs into the new principal who insists he wants to talk with her. Although I was initially happy that he was finally treating Vail like the actual victim in all of this, this quickly morphed into outright horror. 

In his office was a woman in a labcoat. Vail is instantly taken back to the literal torture she underwent at the lab, and starts to have an immense PTSD episode. Eventually, the two guards who’d tackled her the night before and ripped the baby from her arms, force her down onto the ground again now. The entire thing is insanely rape-y, and it made me so angry. The fact that they’re doing this simply to inject the tracker into her neck doesn’t help, since they’re doing this against her will… Which anybody could argue is rape-like in its essence. The doctor also slips an unknown pill into Vail’s mouth and forces her to take it.

However, it’s only after this is over that the doctor announces that Vail’s having a bad reaction. Which… wow. You saw a literal child start crying at the sight of you, had two grown men forcefully hold her down on the ground, and injected her with a tracking device AGAINST HER WILL. Of course she’s having a fucking bad reaction. 

Carter carries her to Reed then, who is literally the only person who seems to give a shit about Vail’s actual emotions. 

Chapter 28

“You handed her over to Barakat? That’s what you call taking care of your own?” Wentworth’s face contorted at both the force of my power, and the waves of fury rippling off me.

 “It was arranged with her father. He wanted her safely off campus and Trey Barakat was more than motivated to help out.”

Right. And then not even a week later, Trey sold Vail out to those unknown alpha thugs. I think his motivation is more about power than because he actually wants Vail. 

 She’d been trying to research everything she could about voids; information I could have given her without wading through the whole book.

Yet you never once actually bothered to share anything with her. ANYTHING. 

“She rescued Rowan, mom. She went out into the night and brought him home safe.” 

Her eyes snapped with blue fire. “He was only in danger because of her.” 

It was probably true. Barakat’s obsession was with Vail, and my brother had been a means to an end. But she’d still gone out after him, not knowing if she was walking into a trap. Or that’s what I wanted to believe, anyway. 

I really wish Vail had marched the other twin back to the Den room and gone back to bed. Seriously. They’re treating her like she murdered the baby or something, when the only thing she did was to go out of her way to rescue him. 

Please remember that this is the thanks she gets for having been a good samaritan. 

“You claim her without Marrow’s blessing – which he’s never going to give - and it’s an act of war.”

Chapter 28 summary: Jasper, meanwhile, spent the rest of his night searching for any signs of Trey. He felt frustrated that Trey seemed to have, and I quote, “flown away”. He goes to where he’s stashed Wentworth, who insists that Trey isn’t a wolf. Jasper thinks the man means a “rogue, dud, or void”, but Wentworth seems to think that there’s another option: a shifter who isn’t a wolf. Jasper threatens Wentworth because the man had turned Vail over to Trey at the end of the first book. But Wentworth isn’t afraid of him, since according to Wentworth, the clans in Europe are way worse. 

Jasper then goes to talk to his mum, who is with her twin boys, but also a bunch of personal guards. She said that she called up Grandpa Marrow, and is basically yeeting Vail back to her supposed bio-family. Again, the book wastes no time in reminding us how little every single person thinks about Vail and her valiant rescue effort. Despite the fact that Vail is also a victim in all of this. Jasper seethes with anger, and now views his own mother on his personal shitlist: she’s standing in the way of him being able to be with Vail. 

He then learns what happened to Vail like 5 minutes ago. He suddenly realises one of his guards is covered with “the scent of Vail’s vomit and fear”. His anger is upped to a million, and he goes storming off. The guard runs after him, and asks why it would be such a bad thing to let Reed ride off into the sunset with Vail. However, his reasons have nothing to do with Jasper’s feelings, and everything to do with politics. The only thing that you need to know is that Grandpa Marrow would view Jasper claiming Vail as an act of war. 

[nervousladytraveler]

This is for @suziebeegee because she remembered. And I'll never have this rogue Christmas tale ready by December so this peek will have to do. Consider it chapter one (which is probably what I said last time I posted a snippet and I remain terrible at sequencing things).

Chapter One: Bruises

--

“Welcome to Aberdeen International Airport. It’s time to get ready. Time to do business face to face, time to pack for an adventure far from home…to make up for lost…”

The pre-recorded announcement grew muffled then shut off completely. It was the third time Demelza had heard it that afternoon, and the third time it abruptly ended, so whatever had been lost and now could be made up, remained a mystery. It wasn't grating her nerves quite yet, but she suspected that would come soon enough. What she really wanted to hear was when her flight would be boarding.

“Oh no, Stefan, my German is getting sehr gut. Listen: Kaffee mit…Sahne!” A woman across the aisle giggled into her phone, loud enough that every passenger waiting at Gate 4 could hear. 

“That’s what I want from you--breakfast in bed, you know?” she continued, apparently unbothered to be discussing her personal life in the departures lounge. It was a one-sided conversation so Demelza could only imagine what der Geliebte demanded in return for that coffee.

At least that’s what Demelza assumed this Stefan was, or would soon be. The woman kept batting her eyelashes, puckering her lips, cocking her head. She wasn’t even using Facetime but still couldn’t control the physical urge to flirt as she spoke.

Was it a new relationship or one that had only recently intensified? Demelza wondered.

The woman was young---or about Demelza’s age anyway--and had clearly put a bit of effort into how she dressed for her travels. Her dark hair was sleekly styled in an asymmetrical cut (Were people really doing that again?) and she wore a real Burberry raincoat and pointy shoes that looked like hell to travel in.

Demelza wiggled her toes in her sturdy boots and sighed. She hadn’t had nearly enough Kaffee that morning, after oversleeping then rushing from her hotel on one side of town to catch the closing session of the conference. Now she was waiting at the airport at yet another side of town. It was hours before her flight was scheduled to leave and after that, she’d still have to get to Paddington (then wait) for a train to Cornwall. This whole trip had followed that same cycle: rush then wait, rush then wait. But soon enough, she’d be back home again and back in charge of her schedule.

“So tell me, will you be excited to see me? Oh? How much?” The woman pouted into her phone then threw her head back in laughter, amused at whatever Stefan had said in response. “Wie ein ungezogenes Baby!” she purred. 

Her accent was shit.

Demelza wished she’d bought the overpriced headphones she’d admired in the terminal shop instead of the overpriced chocolates she’d impulsively picked up instead. She’d had a mishap with her old headphones (she’d stepped on them) so she had nothing with which to drown out  the announcements (not her plane!) and now this nauseating lovers’ talk that was better suited for pillows and not public.

Maybe if I put more effort into my appearance I might be compelled to flirt as well? Demelza dismissed the thought before it was even fully formed. She was happy to be alone--she really was--and most days didn't even think about it. 

Of course that didn't stop others from thinking about it for her, especially Prudie. She seemed to consider being a singleton as a temporary status, a quick stop on the train route to Happilyeverafter. Surely it wasn't a final destination.

“You think he’s the one”? Prudie had asked every time Demelza so much as breathed the same air as another man.

The last time Prudie grilled her had been with Greg who happened to be a doctor which meant he had Prudie’s instant endorsement. Oh, Greg had been pleasant enough and the sex had been good--surprisingly good, in fact--but of course Demelza didn’t tell Prudie that. Still Demelza had abruptly ended it one evening snuggled up in front of some postcoital telly. It hadn't been premeditated; she just suddenly realised she couldn't spend her life or even another minute with that laugh.

It was a nasal eh, eh, eh that sounded a bit like he was trying desperately to breathe whilst choking on a boiled sweet. Really, it has taken all her self control not to apply abdominal thrusts (when did they stop referring to it as the Heimlich Maneuver?). Instead she plotted her exit--an early morning appointment she had to get ready for--with whom didn't matter and she couldn't even be arsed to embellish the lie.

Greg clearly had not been the final destination. 

Demelza wondered if Stefan had a decent laugh or if he laughed at all. Maybe Sleek and Flirty Woman did all the laughing for the two of them.

Maybe I’ll get a cat, Demelza thought. Someone who could accept her on her own terms. Or on its own terms—it was a cat after all. Still it wouldn’t mind her comings and goings, or care when she was solo or when she was part of a  pair. Not a dog--she just wasn't home enough for that and she knew herself well enough to know she couldn't face up to a dog’s moral compass. A dog would become attached to anyone she brought home and if then if that anyone stopped coming around? Yes, that was another sort of guilt altogether.

And in truth, there had only ever been one dog  in her life and he’d been gone for years now. And it just wouldn’t be fair to his replacement, would it? To always be compared to sweet, loyal Garrick, with his big paws and his unruly black coat? 

No, she wouldn't judge a cat and a cat would return the favour.

Desperately needing a distraction as she waited, she pulled out her library book, a novel by Kate Atkinson. It was the latest of three Demelza had read in that many months and she could now discern certain phrases the author liked to use. Women wore their hair scraped back into a ponytail (Demelza’s own today was a floofy mess, slipping out of a hair clip. No smooth scraping for her). Purple skies at sunset were always described as bruised.

It’s never the other way around. No one ever describes a bruise as looking like a sunset, Demelza observed. She had a new one on her outer thigh just above her knee, from walking into a hotel table in the dark. She was so cocksure she could make it to the bathroom without switching on the light but of course she didn’t remember where she was. It didn't hurt but looked ghastly--not that anyone would see it any time soon.

Demelza closed her book and looked out the huge windows at the December sky. An even gunmetal grey, no bruised sunsets tonight. Of course now she knew the science behind so many of nature’s secrets. That purple twilight is caused by atmospheric gases, water droplets, dust, and pollutants suspended in the air scattering sunlight into a band of colours. That yellow leaves in autumn occur when chlorophyll is broken down and the carotenoids that were there all along are simply unmasked. Still she tried to retain some pleasure, some magic of it all. Especially at the changing of seasons: a pink autumn sunrise, a frosted field purple and green, a delightful first snow.

I haven’t grown entirely cynical, she thought. Although maybe that actually takes more work than being hopeful?

Now she gave up and after putting her book away entirely, she closed her eyes. Time to wait some more. 

“What boarding group are you?” a man waiting next to her asked suddenly. He must have sat down while her eyes were closed. Had she really dozed off?

On instinct she sized him up before she answered. It was well past November but he still wore a red poppy pinned to his collar. His coat was enormously puffy, emblazoned with the mascot of some American sports team she didn't recognize-at least she assumed it was America based on how offensively racist it was. He’d also taken the arm rest between them even though there was another one on his other side so he had claim to that one as well. 

“Group five,” she said simply hoping that would do the trick. 

Just watch, we'll be seat mates and then I’ll have one hour and thirty-five minutes with his hulking body and creeping arms, she thought. At least I have a confirmed window seat.

Some folks despised feeling trapped but she never minded. She liked to have control of the shade, to look to the clouds or the landscape below for comfort. To have somewhere to rest her head. It had been years since she’d had a spare shoulder to claim on a flight.

“Coming or going?” he asked.

On impulse Demelza decided to be friendly.

“Goin’, I mean goin’ home,” she answered truthfully.

“Ah, you’re from London?” He seemed excited to meet a genuine native.

“No, just passin’ through before I’m actually home.” She regretted disabusing him of his pleasure but she also had no desire to be on display as some sort of circus attraction. “I’m from Cornwall,” she added.

“Köln?” he repeated. It was only then that she heard he had an accent. Was that Italian she detected?

“Cornwall,” she said again then quickly realised she wasn’t up for conversation after all. She’d just had four days of chatting with strangers and now wanted nothing more than to stare blankly at the clouds. Only they hadn’t taken off yet  or even announced boarding so she had to settle for gazing out at the wet tarmac and the yellow-vested folks waving their wands to guide other planes to and from the jetway.

Once again she regretted her lack of headphones. No one would begrudge her ending the conversation if they thought she was listening to something good. But to just say nothing? Well that was rude, wasn’t it?

Her book might work to deter him but she’d  shoved it in the bottom of her rucksack at her feet. It would be hard to take it out now without leaning into the man’s lap.

“Are you alone? I mean, single?” the man asked. Now he sounded French. Maybe.

She meant to blink to buy herself time but found herself holding her eyes closed a little longer than intended. Perhaps she could just pretend to be asleep.

“No, no I'm not,” she lied. “Engaged.” 

Her future seatmate’s eyes darted to her empty ring finger before she could hide it and raised a brow in question.

“Oh yes well it’s bein’ sized,” she said. Why bother with such a tale? She owed this man nothing. ”It’s a family heirloom, you see,” she went on. “Very dear. Needed some repairs too.”

T’is a wicked lie! She could imagine her evangelical stepmother saying. Now it will never come true--and it will serve you right, you lyin’ whore! 

Nell believed firmly in a tit for tat universe. A lie, or any sin for that matter, would cause some other ill to befall its perpetrator. Of all the times God had ignored Demelza, he would surely see she got her just desserts here. 

Nell also liked to tell her that she would never find a husband (a good, clean man) because she’d sullied herself so young. So much sin fer a girl--no wonder yer father sent you from home. He was lucky to be rid of you. 

Whatever story Nell needed to tell herself was fine with Demelza. Without thinking, she rubbed her bruised leg under her jeans.

“Lucky fellow,” the man said (Dutch?). He didn’t ask if that fellow was also clean.

“Well…” Demelza wasn’t quite sure of what else to say. 

But then a strange thing happened and in her mind’s eye she saw not an imaginary six-carat sparkling baguette but a real ring. One she knew. A modest antique garnet with an old bent setting. The one she usually wore when she wasn’t working--and since this was a professional trip, she'd left it at home in her jewellery box. And then she thought not of an imaginary six-carat fellow but a real one: a man with unruly black curls whose heirloom it had been to bestow. He’d been good, though perhaps not clean according to Nell’s standards. And now? 

Was he lucky? Lucky to be rid of her?

She hadn't thought about him--and certainly not the circumstances of when he’d given her that ring--for some time. And yet today there was no sadness, no deep sense of loss. Just a warmth that lingered longer than she expected. She rubbed her empty finger again.

That’s odd, she thought Or at least new, 

“When is the wedding?” the man asked. Was he checking her facts or angling for an invite?

“Spring.” The lies were coming easy now and seemed to satisfy her neighbour for the time being, who nodded briefly then opened an enormous newspaper that took up even more of her personal space than his arms had.

The loudspeaker gave a crackle--no one spoke into it yet but they’d be making a boarding call soon. Demelza closed her eyes again, this time managing a better job at feigning sleep. 

Now she imagined a white train trailing through the wet Cornwall mud that always seemed to linger on into May. Yes, it would have to be May. And it would have to be outdoors. 

Was this a new dream or an old one? She didn't really take the time to explore that question and instead found herself really starting to drift off. But not before thinking how Prudie would have scolded her for not keeping her gown clean or having a bridal party that included throngs of little girls to hold it aloft.

Did she even know any little girls? Jinny Scoble’s daughter was about three now. Or was she four? Probably too young for such a duty. But it mattered little, no matter the attendants, Demelza would never be able to stay clean. That just wasn’t her. Nell knew it. Prudie knew that too.

I’ll need to see Prudie as soon as I’m home, definitely before the holidays, Demelza thought to herself. Maybe I’ll save the chocolates for her.

“Welcome to Aberdeen International Airport. It’s time to get ready…” The pre-recorded announcement came on once again but just when Demelza was expecting it to cut off, the voice continued. She woke up at once.

“Get ready to make up for lost time……and feel excited for what lies ahead.”

[endlessly-cursed]

Over the Brink of War, Prologue: The Calm Before the Storm

Author’s Notes: 

This year has been eventful in many ways, especially in the fandom, and especially from the moment I interacted properly with my dear friend Lari @kathrynalicemc​ Ever since, creativity and awesomeness ensued. This first prologue is dedicated to you, sweetie, as a Christmas gift. 

Summary: Elodie Dubois has a secret / Semele’s life takes a turn / Jacob is not doing so well... 

Featuring...: Elodie Dubois, Sebastian Dubois, James Dubois, Jacob Dubois, Semele Thorne, Charles Beaufort

OCs mentioned: Lyubomir Vulchanov ( @magicallymalted​ ) Penny Haywood, Isabelle Dubois, Ben Copper 

June 1996, York, England, 20.06 p.m. 

“Thank you for the dinner, mother, it was incredible,” Sebastian kissed her mother, smiling at her with the same smile he had “it was lovely as usual.” 

“Yeah, Gran, you outdo yourself every time,” her grandson James agreed. 

Elodie smiled at her boys “I am glad. James, dear, when is the baby due?” 

James smiled widely “It shall be due early into the next year. We have been confirmed it will be a girl.” 

Elodie beamed “How lovely! I have missed having some ladies around.” 

They both smiled and hugged the old woman goodbye. The moment the lift was running down, she ran towards the bathroom and started to cough and vomit, feeling light and dizzy, trembling and weak. She sighed and cleaned herself, looking into the mirror and taking off her wig: every day she lost more and more hair. 

How long did she have to carry this burden? She had wanted to announce her illness, but the moment her grandson announced that he’d be a father with his Veela wife, she had decided to keep it a secret until it was either too late or had no other option. She had begged her own doctor not to say a thing unless she were indeed dying. 

I cannot die before that bastard. 

She had promised herself that she’d keep herself alive until Tom Riddle, now Voldemort, were truly dead. She had high hopes for the boy, Harry Potter, and had corresponded with him the whole time, telling him facts he should know of him, as someone who knew him intimately. 

She sighed and went to the kitchen, where her meds she passed as ‘old woman’s meds’ were hidden and took them. She’d have to go to the hospital soon. She only got out with permission and approval of the staff. But for now, she’d enjoy listening to the newest songs on the radio as she watched MTV. She may be old, but she still enjoyed some drama and missed feeling young and alive. 

The last time she felt like that was before she conceived her dear son. She didn’t regret having him, but did regret the circumstances of it. She knew that Lyubomir’s obsession would get worse and affect their child, but she still missed the Miro she had fallen in love with: the sweet, kind, affectionate, loving and soft-spoken man who made her feel alive, beautiful and in tune with herself. She did wonder if she had told him that she was carrying their child he would’ve turned his back on necromancy and be a father. She wondered if he would’ve loved being Sebastian’s father. Part of her said yes, another part said no. 

She wanted to call him and tell him everything, beg him to come back and be his father and the grandfather of James at least. But her voice always told her ‘It is too late by now. He doesn’t deserve it. He never did. He doesn’t even remember us’. But could one truly forget what they had? Did he consider her the love of his life like she did? Did he miss her? Ever thought of contacting her? She always mused about it. Did he? 

She shook her head. Of course not. He was probably buried on his studies, too busy playing God to care. Why would he? Tears threatened to spill. No. No. No. For her sake, she wouldn’t. She took a deep breath and started to do her makeup and put on back her wig until she reached St. Mungo’s and was safe back on her bed. To her treatment. To her chemo, which she had planned herself and appointed her doctors. 

With her head high and a smile, she left her home and went back to her actual life: a life in white walls full of death and people who danced at the edge of it every day. 

London, England, Big Ben, 22.30 p.m

Semele Thorne walked blindly across the Big Ben with her boyfriend, Charles, and walked her towards something she couldn’t see. No matter what she asked, he always said to have patience and let things flow, and she did as he asked. 

When they finally reached their destination, he dropped the fold and she gasped. There was a private room with petals of roses everywhere, candles and a pillow fort built. She looked back to him and smiled “Is this all for me?!” 

He smiled “Yes, but first things first,” he dropped to his knees and she gasped “Will you marry me, Semele Alexandrina Thorne?” 

She nodded “Yes. Yes, Charles!” She threw herself to his arms as he placed the ring on it and picked her up, taking her to the pillow fort. They spent most of the night tangled on one another, giggling and enjoying their engagement. She’d soon be Mrs. Beaufort! What else could she ask for? 

She had met him a year ago and the two clicked instantly, too instantly said her aunt Anais. But she didn’t mind. Soulmates were soulmates, right? Sometimes they didn’t need time, they just loved one another. And she did love him. 

But sometimes she doubted her love. It didn’t feel quite like the books of fairy-tale or how her mother had written about it in her diary. She was but a child when they buried her but she missed her every day and her aunt had plenty to tell herself from her, having been sisters-in-law. They had fallen in love after her mother beat her father on a debate in the Ministry and the two of them went from scholars to lovers, and though her father was older than her, they loved one another nevertheless. 

She wondered if Charles loved her too. She knew that he was wounded from his previous fiancée, but she was not her. She was far more mature than her, according to him. He always said how crazy she was and that she was childish, stupid and like other girls, unlike Semele. That flattered her very much. 

How little she knew at the moment, that the fall of the government would bring severe consequences. 

Nottingham, England, 1996, 00:35 a.m. 

Jacob Dubois found himself running away from Death Eaters again. They had been after him for some time, and though he had improved on his running routine, the prowess did not change much. He still had skill, but the hunger, tiredness and constant moving did not help. Other outcasts like Remus Lupin had helped him, but only for a while. Only Tonks, a former classmate of his dear sister Isabelle had helped him with no prejudices. 

He ducked, dodging a Cruciatus Curse and attacked with a defensive and sneaky spell, and an Expelliarmus over there. He dodged an Incacerous and a Bombarda, and attacked with a Flipendo and Depulso, finishing off the third one with a special spell that Severus Snape had taught him long ago: Sectumspectra. The man screamed and moaned in pain, and he took his chance and jumped off the bridge, apparating himself to safety. He lived not-so-away from the Chateau Dubois and always kept an eye on his sister and her wife, Penny. He found her sweet and perfect for Penny, and was now with child. That is why he always spoke the Lord’s name and openly offended Death Eaters: to protect Isabelle like he hadn’t been capable during her time at Hogwarts. For the sake of her and his future niece, he had to do questionable things, something like an Unspeakable, and keep them out of harm’s way. And corresponding with Ben Copper, who often visited the pair, helped. Of course, Issy didn’t know of their correspondence, and now with her pregnancy, she shouldn’t. 

She deserved a family, not to be on the run and terrified for her life. That was his job. The one he had been having since his expulsion from Hogwarts in his sixth year. He thought he was saving them, but after Duncan's death it all went downhill. He auto-healed his own wounds with an Espikey and hoped for the best. He had been hit by the Cruciatus Curse before, and only went to the hospital because an idiot young wizard decided to. He had to bribe the nurses not to rat him out. He was an outcast and Dumbledore would want his secrets of who the Mahoutokoro former student had been and what he had done with Rackepick. Though he could tell that he had indeed killed her, he’d want a confession. He refused to end up like Sirius Black. He wasn’t that stupid to believe in an old man who made his students his little puppet soldiers while he crossed his arms and watched. He would not be his toy. The example of his relative Elodie was good enough. Isabelle also could tell Dumbledore’s nature, but said nothing out of politeness. 

He laid on his bed and looked at the time. Nearly 1 a.m. He exhaled and closed his eyes, dreaming again of facing a faceless foe, both battling until he was struck with green lighting and then he woke up. He was going to die, but when? Where? How? Would he be a hero like Rowan Khanna, or a coward? 

Only time, and the fall of the ministry the next year, could tell.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes, But Your Kisses Do

summary:  in a standoff with an unsub, reader makes a choice: her life or spencer’s. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader 

category: angst/fluff at the end 

warnings/includes: canon typical case violence, based off of episode “haunted” so spoilers, guns/gun violence, hospitals, kissing, mentions of hotch’s stabbing 

word count: 3437 

author’s note: i wrote this one a while ago and thought i’d share it. if anyone wants to be tagged, i’m going to figure it out and i’ll add you to a tag list!!  

Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes, But Your Kisses Do

The two agents that sat on swivel chairs facing each other fake arguing about an episode of Dr. Who. Spencer had his legs straight out, resting on Y/N’s lap comfortably. She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hand as she explained to Spencer her thoughts on the episode. 

“Spencer, you cannot tell me that you don't think  David Tennant is hot! I watched the episode with you and I can tell you are-" 

“I’m not going to argue against that, Y/N. David Tennant is,” Spencer started as he fiddled with the lollipop that Garcia handed him when he and Y/N walked into the bullpen.

“Is what, Spence?” A teasing look graced her face as Spencer’s blush grew down his exposed neck and collarbone. 

“He’s hot, okay Y/N is that what you want me to say!” Spencer’s voice rose a couple octaves from his admission over his not-so-subtle-crush on The Doctor.

“That’s exactly what I wanted you to say, Spencer. Least I know we have the same type” She said with a wink. 

“You got a type, Y/N?” Derek called from the doorway of the conference room. 

“Yeah, hot doctors with brown hair”  Emily said without missing a beat. She had walked in behind Derek, the pair  of them discussing her annual Sin-to-Win Weekend in Atlantic City. 

“But they, you know, have to be like Time Lords, or whatever” She said in efforts to cover up her growing discomfort. 

She turned her attention back to Reid, who was in the process of trying to remove his leg from her warm lap. He did not want to give Derek anymore ammunition to make sly jokes at his not-so-subtle-crush on his best friend/co-worker. Secretly, he wanted to keep his leg there, against her soft thigh and maybe she’d drop her hands on his leg in a comforting gesture of….friendship. 

Garcia placed a tin decorated with white and orange cats dressed in bonnets on the table just within reach of Hotch’s usual spot near the monitor. Reid reached forward to open the tin, which he deduced was filled with Penelope’s infamous snickerdoodle cookies. Unfortunately, before the genius profiler could reach the gaudy tin, Penelope swatted his hand away from grasping the cookies. 

“Hey! Those are for Hotch” Penelope shouted as she grabbed the tin and moved them closer to Hotch’s chair. 

“What? You know I love cookies, Garcia. Come on, Hotch hates attention” 

“I just made some cookies, it’s not like I made him a cake.” Penelope argued as Derek and Emily both quietly eyed the cookies. 

“Spence, we’ll make cookies tonight. It looks like it’s just a paperwork day” Y/N said with a slight smile, that, in turn, elicited a big grin from an unsuspecting Spencer.

“Anyway,” Derek started as he chose to ignore the interaction that unfolded before him “we all know he’s going to act like nothing happened” he remarked as he fingered through the dozen case files spread out before him on the table. 

“Doesn’t mean we have to,” Penelope said sadly as she looked down at the cat cookie tin.  

“Maybe we should,” Reid said quietly to his co-workers. 

“But, I’m not built like that!” said Penelope. 

“Hotch is though, Penny,” Y/N noted as she snuck a cookie while Penelope’s back was turned. She broke it in half and handed it to Spencer under the table. He winked at her as she shushed him. 

“Yeah, Y/N,” Spencer said with a mouthful of cookie, “Hotch never blinks” he finished with a large swig of lukewarm, sugared coffee. 

“Classic Alpha Male” Spencer said, looking towards Derek. 

“Do you think he stared down Foyet...you know while it happened?” Emily questioned. She was usually the one who could stomach all these, but when it came to the team, she was as nervous as the lot of them. 

“It’s probably what saved his life,” Derek said somberly. 

“He can’t be okay,” Penelope said with a whisper. 

“I wouldn’t be,” Spencer said with an air of uncertainty, “I’m a blinker” 

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There was an uncomfortable silence during the ride to Louisville. Hotch was more sullen than usual, but, thankfully, Garcia broke the tension with her reports via computer screen. 

“Our point in Louisville is Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell, my contacts don’t report any more attacks related to this unsub” JJ relayed. She sat next to Derek, who was across from Hotch and Rossi. Emily sat criss cross on the table across from the foursome. On the small jet couch, Spencer and Y/N played a game of chess as they listened to the initial reports JJ received from the local PD. 

“Call’s proving hard to track. He never had a driver’s license, so he’s probably still on foot,” Spencer mumbled without removing his eyes from the chessboard. 

“Or public transportation,” Y/N added as she cringed when Spencer announced “check”. 

“Well, he’s not going to get anywhere too far with his face all over the news,” Emily continued. 

“So, what do we think the stressor is,” Rossi nodded. 

“He just lost his job. Worked in a factory since 1990. He made appliances forever. Not a single promotion” Garcia’s voice came across a little staticky. 

“That’s a long time to be bitter,” Derek posed. 

“Or he just doesn’t care,” Reid countered. 

“According, to what you sent over Garcia, he kind of seems like a hermit. Far as I can tell he’s got no one. No wife, no children, no parents.” Y/N added with a sad tone in her voice. 

With a sharp tone, Hotch added “then why didn’t he kill himself?” 

“He’s not finished killing yet,” Reid continued the thought, “check mate!” 

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It was at times like these that it seemed like the case drags on forever. Call had kidnapped a little boy, who, Spencer had figured out was Call’s biological son.  The local PD was getting them nowhere. Those overly macho cops seemed to be having a difficult time taking orders from JJ. Y/N watched as she marched over to Mitchell and demanded that he give a press conference. 

Y/N chuckled quietly to herself as she watched the interaction. JJ was a force to be reckoned with, especially when the life of an innocent child was at stake. That cop had no idea who he was challenging. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer called from his spot in front of the whiteboard. It was decorated with a combination of their messy, rushed handwriting. Spencer grasped his blue marker and looked at Y/N with a painful expression. 

“I’m not getting anywhere with this geographical profile,” Spencer’s somber tone flooded Y/N’s emotions with an overwhelming sense to comfort him. 

“Spencer, put the marker down and look at me, please, for a second.” He obliged as he turned to face her.

Y/N reached up on her tiptoes to gently rub her hands along the base of Spencer’s neck. He could feel the tension melt away. Spencer was not one for physical affection, but he realized that he, in fact, craved the soft touches of people he trusted. Whether it was a brotherly pat on the back from Morgan, a playful high five from Garcia, a proud fist bump from Hotch, Spencer had grown to seek out affection. 

“Y/N,” he said. His voice but a whisper in the loud, hectic bullpen. 

“Shh,” She could sooth his worries just with a graze of her hands across his neck. It was magic to a scientist. Her magical presence set him on fire. 

“Hey, we can do this, Spence, all of us, but we need you,” Y/N voice mirrored his own. A hushed whisper that fueled the flames of his love. 

Instead of kissing her forehead or even hugging her, all Spencer could make out was a small thank you, before, like the wind, she was gone to see if Garica had any updates on the missing boy. 

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In a frantic hour, Garcia had discovered a possible location of Tommy and his father, Darrin. Like most the unsubs, they were children of tragedy. Children of abusive homes and of deep rooted violence. It was up to the team, as they raced down the street in their crowded SUVs, to stop the cycle of violence for claiming another innocent child. 

“Hotch, you are on speaker,” Emily called from the passenger seat of the car as Derek sped down the warehouse where they suspected Tommy to be held. 

“Do not go in there without SWAT, do you all here me?” Hotch said sternly. 

“That means you, Derek, don’t go in there till backup gets there,” JJ added from the phone that Emily held. 

“You got it, boss man,” Derek made a sharp turn that led Y/N to nearly fall into Spencer, who sat next to her. 

“Spencer! Where is your vest!?” Y/N asked him impatiently, with a tinge of nervousness and fear laced in her tone. 

“Y/N, Call doesn’t have a gun, he’s been using weapons of opportunity. The profile points to him not even being armed right now. If anything-” 

“Screw the profile, Spencer!” Y/N’s voice was hysterical now. “You need to where a damn vest, you are an FBI agent, if you get-” 

Y/N’s rant to Spencer was stopped short by the disturbing sight before her. From the SUV the four of them could see an even more distraught Call standing out in the middle of the warehouse parking lot. He held Tommy by the neck, with a gun pointed at his temple. Derek stopped the car and jumped out, his gun wielded as he began to try to talk the man down. 

“Call, drop the weapon and release Tommy, right now!” Derek’s voice loomed large and powerful as Emily, Reid, and Y/N each got out of the vehicle and turned their spots with Morgan. 

“You don’t want to hurt Tommy,” Spencer started. “we know who he is to you, we know that he’s your son, and that you weren’t there for him.” He put his gun away in an attempt to show Call that he was not a threat. Y/N could read the desperation in Spencer’s voice from a mile away. Call, like Spencer’s mom lives with schizophrenia. Spencer and Hotch nearly had it out in the middle of the bullpen after Spencer insinuated that Hotch was implying that Call was only going on this murder spree because of his condition.

“Just let the boy go, Call.” Y/N continued the track that Derek and Spencer started. “Just let your son go. We will make sure that you can get medicine, that’s why you went to the pharmacy, right? You need meds to help yourself and then,-” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Spencer inching closer and closer to Tommy. As if it was a chain reaction, Call drew his weapon and fired towards Spencer. Before she even could realize the consequences of her actions, Y/N tackled Spencer to the ground. The bullet lodged itself into the Kevlar vest she wore. Her side burned as she came to understand what had transpired in the last couple of seconds. 

Spencer scrambled onto his knees and clutched Y/N’s cold hands in his. 

“Spence, I’m okay,” Y/N said as she struggled to sit up straight with Spencer practically laying on top of her. 

“No, Y/N! Don’t do that,” Spencer started with tears flooding the corners of his eyes. The little droplets made his sometimes brown and sometimes green eyes sparkle with sadness. 

Spencer moved his hands from the place where the bullet lodged itself in her Kevlar to grasp her face tenderly. But his movement caused her cheek to be painted with a deep red handprint in the shape of the crying man crouching before her hand.

“Spencer,” she let out a small whimper when she saw the look of horror on his face.  Before he could even ask her why she did what she did, Y/N passed out, her limp, cold hand finding its home in the comfort of soft, warm ones. 

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

The rest of the case passed in a numbing hum for Spencer. Once Y/N got shot by Call he let go of Tommy and Derek shot him the leg. Spencer did not even stay for when Emily and Derek apprehended the unsub. It was like his legs acted of their own accord when the EMT showed up for Y/N and he walked with them never letting go of her hand. 

The ride to the hospital in the back of the ambulance was hectic. The EMTs had to monitor her heart rate, her blood pressure, and her oxygen. Even the temptation of numbers could not capture Spencer’s attention as he mulled over the possible conclusions to why Y/N would take a bullet for him. There was no logical reason for it. Not one. Spencer let the steady rocking of the ambulance to soothe him as he gently rubbed his thumb over Y/N’s hand. Even though he longed to hold her against himself, this would have to do, for now at least. Till then, Spencer forced his mind to focus on the pattern that her beating heart created.

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

Hospitals terrified Spencer. The smell, the sick people, the people who were unsavable. Part of him wonders what his life would be like if he became a medical doctor. As a kid, he had a future where he could do anything he could dream of. Cure schizophrenia on Monday, operate on an inoperable tumor on Tuesday- that’s what his life could have been like. 

But sitting there, in the sterile hospital with the white walls and constant beeping, Spencer’s mind was only thinking of another life he could be out living. In the minutes that he sat with Y/N as she lay in pain in his arm, false memories of a life together painted in his mind. Laughing children, family picnics, couple’s Halloween costumes. He stroked her hair and saw a life so familiar that he could almost taste it. He tasted cookies that they baked together as they danced without a care in the world. He tasted Halloween and Forth of July and all the holidays in between. He tasted butterfly kisses with his children that had her hair and her eyes and her smile. 

He was stripped away from those memories that he didn’t even own. Now all he could taste was the bitterness of regret, the sourness of what if, and the tartness of the nightmares masquerading as reality. 

“Family of Y/L/N,” a surgeon dressed in light blue scrubs walked into the waiting area with an unreadable expression on her face.

JJ and Derek stood up immediately as the doctor went to continue to deliver the news. 

“She’s awake and doing okay,” the doctor said with a relieved expression. 

“Oh that goodness,” JJ said as she hugged Emily in a moment of happiness. 

“She’s a fighter,” Derek quipped, “I’m going to call Garcia, she’s probably a nervous wreck” 

“She’ll make a full recovery, but should avoid air travel because her internal bleeding,” the doctor reported, “also, which one of you is Spencer? Even since she’d been lucid, she’s been asking for you,” she said looking around at the remaining group, with her eyes landing on the man in question. 

“She is?” Spencer questioned carefully. He was worried that maybe she regretted jumping in front of him. 

“Yes, why don’t you come with me. It may make her more comfortable having someone she wants with her” 

Y/N wants him. 

Him. 

Spencer was not sure how he even walked himself down the corridor to where Y/N’s room was located. But sure enough, he was met with her ashen face beaming up at his. 

“Y/N! Oh my goodness, are you okay, I mean, obviously you’re injured so you’re not okay. I don’t mean to invalidate your pain, I just...why, Y/N, why on Earth would you do that?” Spencer finished. His voice was more tender towards the end. He looked down at his friend before him and tried to read the expression that graced her face. 

“Spencer, I did what I had to do. You….you would have died,” Spencer noticed the tears that puddled in her eyes and had to suppress the sudden urge to kiss them away. 

“I’d rather die than live my life in a world without you, Spencer.”

Spencer closed his eyes and sat down on the bed with her. 

“Why?” he asked in a voice that was hardly audible. It can’t be, he thought. Maybe this is just something that a teammate does for another teammate. Comrades in arms or something like that, he thought. Trying to make sense of senselessness. 

“Why do you value my life more than yours? Why-how can you do that” there was not stopping tears in his eyes now. She reached out and held his face, like he held her as she bled out in the warehouse only a couple of hours ago. 

“Spence, my life would be dull and gray without you in it. You’re my best-” She stared as he tensed up at what he knew was coming. She only jumped in front of him because it’s what a teammate does. 

“Please, I can't bear to hear that. I-maybe you only can think of me as a teammate or worse a brother, but part of me. A hopeful and romantic part of me that I can't let go of the thought of you thinking about in a different way,” he was so embarrassed, so raw in the moment that he could not bear to even look her in the eyes. 

“Spencer?” he could only watch the way that their fingers laced together. He focused on the patterns between the itchy hospital blanket. 

“Y/N,” he started and took a deep breath. Spencer had never intended to tell her this. Maybe in moments of drunken bravery he thought about it, but he’d always sober up before his dreams could come to fruition. 

“I’m a logical man, I solve problems for a living but sometimes. Sometimes, I can’t use logic to solve some problems, and there’s no logical reason for you to jump in front of a bullet for me. Unless you love me? And I hope with every fiber of being that you do, because I am so desperately in love with you” 

Spencer allowed himself, for the first in his life, to have once of hope and faith. 

Y/N’s eyes met Spencer’s in an uncharacteristically shy moment. 

“I do, Spence. Of course I love you”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh as he, once again, gently placed his hands on her jaw. He placed a kiss on her forehead. The small, tender affection elicited a whimper from Y/N. Spencer jumped back in horror. 

“Oh, honey did I hurt you? You gotta tell me where it hurts” he murmured in a comforting voice. 

“Hmm, no I’ve just been waiting five years for you to kiss me and you settle on my forehead?” Y/N beamed up at him expectantly. 

“Nowhere do you want me to kiss you, my dear?” Spencer questioned playfully. 

“How about in between everywhere and anywhere you want, Doctor Reid,” Y/N, despite the pain, managed a smile for the man that held her hand so lovingly. 

“How about here?” Spencer leaned forward and kissed the left corner of her mouth. 

“Or here?” The right corner. 

“What about here, I’ve dreamed of kissing you here.” He moved his mouth to meet the place on her neck that met her collarbone. Y/N looked up at Spencer dreamily. One day she might chalk it up to the painkillers flooding through her system, but the pure adoration that melted from Spencer’s lips to her skin was something that never knew she’d crave. 

“And here” 

His lips parted slightly as he moved in to meet hers. The feeling was more divine and earth shattering than when Prometheus gave humans fire. Together, intertwined in bedsheets, IVs, and fingers laced with hair, they lit a fire of their own. Kissing Spencer stopped time. 

It was Y/N who broke first. 

“Spencer,” she said with a new reverence that would only be reserved for him. 

“Yes, sweet girl?” 

“You gotta promise me something,” she said as she raked her hands across his arms, feeling him shudder under her touch. 

“Anything and everything for you” he said, mirroring her earlier words to him. 

“Wear a vest next time”

[ktheist]

(why) we got married | m

synopsis. they say the 7th year of your marriage is always an uphill battle - but with the existence of your prenup coming to light thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend’s slip of tongue - first it reached your and his families, and then your family’s close friends and then your family’s close friends’ friends until - almost everyone is speculating on the grounds of you and taehyung’s marriage being anything but love.

you’re not sure if you’re even going to make past the second year mark in your marriage. but is the reason you got married really as important as why you choose to stay or leave?

muses. chairman!taehyung x stewardess!reader

alternative title. as you are.

inspired by. the 1 by taylor swift

genre. arranged marriage au with a pinch of drama and angst

words. 12.5k

warnings. explicit content

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

x

in your defense, neither you nor taehyung made an elaborated plan to deceive both his family and yours with the marriage which yes, had been founded upon a contract. but that’s not the point - the point is, your father and brother never sat down with taehyung and had a man-to-man talk. and his mother never sniffed out your reason for marrying her son being his abundance of wealth. but when all comes to light, thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend who made a slip of tongue - your parents and his were the ones most vindictive about who’s digging whose gold.

and to be completely frank, you were one article away from calling up your mother and telling her that you seduced taehyung into marrying you - just so she’d stop baring her fangs at mrs. kim. these days the headlines keep blowing up your mother and mrs. kim’s completely-by-chance meeting at a five star restaurant that erupted into manic yelling and pointing fingers.

“what did you say, you-” the audio bleeps for a split second before your mother in law’s voice comes back on, “-it was your daughter that seduced my son!”

“you crazy-” the audio bleeps again, “-you better watch your mouth or i’ll-”

the remaining seconds of the video are filled with bleeps that make it hard to even understand what either woman was saying. a wave of regret floods your chest as you scroll down the words strewn out into a juicy, tea-spilling commentary on your and taehyung’s past - the writer seems to pick up the minor little details that, in hindsight, leaves a big fat question mark out in the open.

when exactly did ___ ___ and kim taehyung start dating?

the answer was never.

the two times you and taehyung were photographed together was at a cafe near your office and the other, near his penthouse wherein you were discussing the terms of the contracts by yourselves. the one near taehyung’s penthouse being the final stage where you both signed it on your ipads. to the naked eye, you probably looked like you were on a date and being young professionals, it was only a given that both of you had some sort of electronic on you at all times - even during dates.

everyone just assumed you were together and with the assumption of being together, comes the conclusion that you were deeply, madly in love. was it the way the picture caught you two looking at each other with smiles on your faces? was it it’s sister picture that stilled you in a frame where you’re looking at your ipad and taehyung looking at you with the same - possibly remaining - smile from the moment the first picture was taken? that, you will never know.

but so it goes, you started going to socials together because taehyung needed some cleansing from his... charm-filled past. he used to go to those with different partners each week, and the previous woman that went with him always ended up refusing to talk about it or boasting about her ‘relationship’ with him. that was of course, after yoo now-kim jeongyeon got married three years ago. he used to attend those socials with her for the most part.

but someway, somehow, his public record was clean of any drama.

you would know, you’ve seen the man in action with your very eyes. on your 7th social event together, son chaeyoung had marched up to you and him like a ticking time bomb, red-faced and flaring nostrils and all. you were about ready to stand your ground when taehyung softly touched your hand that was around his arm and asked if you minded if he left for some fresh air.

of course you didn’t - respectfully, you couldn’t care less what taehyung does as long as it didn’t bring a negative light to you and him and the dynasties you both carried over your shoulders. everyone had their eyes wide open and ears perked for what was to come when taehyung walked chaeyoung out to the hallway. but nothing happened, and you were left to mingle on your own until he returned, looking devilishly handsome as always and strutted up to you with an air of refined sureness.

chaeyoung didn’t come back with him but everything remained quiet - not even a dramatic “stay away from my man!” at any point of your contract. you never asked how he did it - you thought it involved money, but over time, you realized it was just kim taehyung and all the things that made those women attracted to him. and just like a flame, he’d burned the moths’ wings until they couldn’t flutter over to him anymore after your wedding.

“uh, miss, we’re here,” the driver calls, meeting your eyes through the rear-view mirror.

it takes you a few moments to close the cover of your ipad and shove it into your handbag before pulling out bills that’s worth more than your car ride, “thanks, keep the change.”

and with that, you hop out of the cab, ready to put on a facade of grace and confidence. the staff who knows you greets you with a range of emotions, some with unhinged admiration from day one, others with curiosity on what’s truly hidden beneath those darken ray bans - without a doubt, aware of the drama going on between their boss’ mother and their boss’ wife’s mother.

either way, you make sure to return each smile and greeting like you always do. red lips sewn across your face like an ever smiling doll.

it’s only once you’ve entered the elevator and luckily left to your own devices, do you let your shoulder sag, the smile downturned into a frown all the way until a ding echoes into the small compartment and a red ‘8′ flashes on top of the doors.

you don’t fail to fix the secretaries a smile, relief flooding over you at how their warm - or was it profession-required - greeting hasn’t changed even after the rumors spreading about your inevitable divorce - of course, purported by you and taehyung’s mothers.

“son, if you don’t divorce that woman right away, i-i,” and here you see for yourself, the woman who called you ‘my daughter’ with the most loving voice, stuttering into a fit of rage, “i don’t think i can face my friends anymore - that bitch jihye has been slandering our family saying you used her daughter to get hold of the company!”

mina is about to knock on the door and announce your arrival when you hold a hand up before placing an index finger to your lips. she doesn’t need to be told twice when she nods once and steps back to leave you eavesdropping on your mother in law and husband.

“that’s fair,” there isn’t even a stuttered beat in his response.

“what-”

“that’s part of the reason we got married,” he goes on, “and ___ needs some help setting up her brother with some connection so it works out - and mom, please refer to ___ and mrs. jeon by their names, ___ is still my wife and mrs. jeon is the woman who raised her.”

“y-you-” mrs. kim stutters out in disbelief just when you decide to make your presence known, hand on the door, “you ungrateful child, oh my- oh my-!” you walk into the sight of the woman falling backwards with mr. ji the kims’ lawyer stretching his arms out to catch her, shouting “madam!” while taehyung launching himself across the room, “mom!”

mrs. kim ends up hospitalized.

“it was a case of stress and overworking that should go away with a good few days’ break,” chairman kim who also opts to assume his seat as part of the hospital’s doctor and a family friend of taehyung’s, fixes you with a reassuring smile.

the stethoscope and white robe gives off a more professional vibe than the sophisticated air you see him wear at family dinners.

“that’s a relief - it’s nothing life-threatening,” the smile you return doesn’t seem to sit right with him as his eyebrows knit together and a cloud seem to loom over his face.

“it’s really not in my place but,” he pauses, probably weighing out the pros and cons of offending you with what he’s about to say - but he doesn’t need to worry too much because after today, you probably won’t be seeing each other at dinners any time soon, “me and jeongyeon,” he means his wife and taehyung’s childhood friend, “are here for you if you need to talk - i know mrs. kim can be a little unreasonable at times, but give her some time. don’t give up on her.”

you nod once, murmuring a hollow ‘thanks for that, seokjin’ before watching the man strut down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps accompanying his leave. only when you’re left with the sound of your breathing, do you finally allow chairman kim’s words to sink into the deepest depth of your heart.

it’s not an easy task to keep your heart still and unbothered by your own mother in law’s words. even now, you can still hear her embellishing her headache, back ache, joint pains and every sort of non-fatal pains she has enough to get taehyung to stay by her bedside - so he doesn’t go home. doesn’t go back to the place where you two have built for yourselves.

and yet you can’t help but agree that - “if you’d divorced her just like i told you, i wouldn’t have fallen so ill!” she sighs, just as you’re about to slide the door open.

all of a sudden, the image of the delicate woman swaying and tumbling towards the ground flashes at the back of your head and you instantly recoil, as if the door was made from fire.

the fear of worsening mrs. kim’s health at the sight of you has you backing away, choosing to wait at the seat in the hallway instead. seconds stretch into minutes and minutes into hours until you feel your body being shaken.

your eyes which you never noticed fluttered close - snap open only to gaze at the face of an angel - a concerned one at that judging from the way his eyebrows knit together. and then you’re hearing the smooth baritone of his voice. you almost pulled out your phone from your purse to ask if you could have it recorded so you could listen to it as a lullaby.

that is, until you realize the angel’s disheveled wavy hair and eyes that look like they’re well on their way to falling asleep standing.

“taehyung,” the name slips out of your mouth with a surprised gasp as you note the pristine pastel background of the vip section, body jolting to sit up from your previously slumping position.

“have you been waiting all this time?” he takes a seat next to you - and only then do you notice the unkempt mess that he is.

the first few buttons of his shirt is undone whilst it hangs over his shoulders, untucked, tie hanging loose over his chest as he drapes his blazer over his arm. the sight is almost alien, especially coming from someone who can’t even stand a crease in his shirt.

“what time is it?” you wonder, reaching for your phone while he checks the rolex on his wrist - which proves to be faster than rummaging through your bag.

“seven-thirty - you’ve been waiting here for more than five hours,” and just your luck, right as the words hit the air, your stomach decides to remind you of the meal you’re about to miss if you stay here any longer.

the heat rushing to your cheeks a second later is immeasurably hot, “o-oh, okay.”

clearing your throat, you ask, “so how was mother? seokjin already told me but i wanted to hear it from you that she’s okay.”

“you know how mom is - keeps saying her head hurts from the fall even though mr. ji managed to catch her halfway,” in any other circumstances, you and him would have found humor in how your mother in law’s overembellished diagnosis to gain attention from you and taehyung - but this time, it’s only one of you she wants that from.

it doesn’t stop you from chuckling though, “it sounds just like her - maybe i should make some ginseng chicken soup to help her get better... or beef seaweed, you know, her...”

swallowing the lump in your throat is a feat - and unfortunately, you’ve failed terribly as taehyung gather you his arms.

only then, do you realize you’re sobbing like a child, emotions running wild as everything comes crashing in like a storm - his mother, your family, the whole fucking tabloids that’s being written and ready to be posted in the next few hours and the fact that the marriage may have been a fraud, but the bonds you made along the way had been more than just business. mrs. kim was a mother to you as much as yours is to taehyung. there may have not been any love between you two but you cherish his family like he cherishes yours.

“i’m sorry - for causing a- a scene - for causing mother to f-faint-” you weep and weep.

in your crying fit, you barely notice the way his arms tighten just the tiniest bit as he sways you left to right gently, one hand on the back of your head caressing your hair as he whispers something along the lines of “it’s not your fault” and “we’ll figure it out together.”

and so for the nth time in your one year of marriage, you’re banding together to capture mrs. kim’s heart again. the first time you visited her with taehyung, she narrowed her eyes at you and demanded taehyung explain as to why he didn’t come alone through the very same eyes next second.

when the man pretended not to notice and even placed a hand on your lower back just as your steps faltered in a ‘i’m with you’ kind of way, she opted to stare out the window while you unpack the broth you made onto the table. the portion you poured into the bowl you brought was getting colder by the minute as you spoke to her, “mother, i made beef seaweed soup, it’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

the only indication that she was listening was the way her eyes scanned the bowl of broth in front of her and proceeded to keep them on the window until you had to leave.

and so goes your second and third visits being received with shoulders made of ice a kind of silence that never fails to make your stomach churn with a sort of nervousness you should have felt when you meet your future husband’s parents for the first time. but the first time you met mrs. kim, your chest was filled with nothing short confidence and woo her you did along with taehyung’s relatives and closed friends. at the time, you didn’t think what you were doing - fooling everyone into believing that you’re marrying each other for love - would come biting you in the ass.

if karma existed then this probably you getting what you deserved.

on your fouth visit, you’d come alone because taehyung had an urgent meeting to attend. mrs. kim spared you a once over just like a rabbit who voluntarily and follishly hopped into the lion’s den.

“mother,” you offer her a smile, “how are you feeling?”

when silence is the only response you get, you quickly rummage through the paper bag you’d brought with you, “have you eaten? i made chicken soup-”

“don’t bother,” her voice cuts through the air like a blade. eyes as piercing as spears, “sit down, i know taehyung has an urgent meeting - it’s the only way to get him off my back.”

you’re not quite sure what she means but you have an inkling that the reason her hostility has yet to reach its pique is because taehyung has been giving her subtle looks to ‘mom, be nice to my wife’.

with a nod and a smile that seems to be glued to your face, you ask, “how was the bibimbap yesterday?”

though she didn’t cut you off, her response doesn’t exactly shed hope to your efforts being paid off when she dismissively says, “i gave it to mr. ji.”

the immediate ‘oh’ that tumbles out of your mouth is purely reflexive even though you know she’s never touched the meals you packed for her. but having her admit it is a different kind of heartbreak.

“i see,” is all you can say as you feel tears prick your waterline, a lump in your throat.

“this,” she places a folder of documents she seems to have ready by her bedside into your hands and without any explanation, sends you off with, “if you have any conscience at all, you’d sign these papers and stay out of our lives.  even though i never read the contract but i’m sure a smart woman such as yourself would’ve thought to include the alimony as well - you understand what i’m saying right?”

you tried to say something - anything but at that point, the look in her eye already paints a picture of you clinging onto taehyung’s wealth. and yet you still tried, “m-mother, i-...”

but no words come out and as though her point had been proven, she’d huffed out a sigh and tuned you out like she always did on your previous visits.

so you walked down the hallway with shades covering your tear stained eyes and a skip to your step that oh-so-badly wishes to break into an unceremonious run to a place where nobody knows you. where nobody looks at you with rounded eyes for the briefest moment that easily translates to mrs. kim ___, wife of kadore’s chairman who married her husband for money.

but all you can afford to do is keep your head up until you reached the bathroom door, check each stall one by one to make sure no one’s inside before you finally set down the document and your handbag on the sink. the first sob hits the air as soon as you see the woman in the reflection’s reddening eyes and smudged makeup.

it takes you several breath-holding, eyes-shutting and a couple more sobs breaking through the cracks of your walls before you can finally pat some powder onto the patch of skin under your eyes and on your cheeks where most of the damage was done. by the time you’re back in the hallway with shades darker than the night sky, you find your feet melting and becoming one with the floor at the sight of a man with jet black hair standing at the reception.

and almost as though sensing the heat of your gaze through your ray bans, the man turns around to reveal a pair of doe brown eyes and the smile you’re so used to seeing now missing in action and replaced with a straight line.

“jungkook...”

“how’d you know i’d be here?” you start once you’ve both placed an order for your drinks at the counter.

“how long are you going to keep doing this?” instead of answering your question with a real answer, jungkook heaves out a sigh, eyebrows knitting together in vexation as he fixes you with one of those ‘i’m not telling mom and dad but this is our problem now’ kind of look.

“how ever long it takes,” is all you say, reverting your gaze to the smooth surface of the table.

“are those the divorce papers?” you refuse to look at him but you know he’s burning holes inside the beige colored folder sitting underneath your handbag on the seat between you and him.

“i don’t know,” you shrug, shoulders squared as you meet his eyes through your shades, “i haven’t opened it yet.”

but jungkook being jungkook, he takes that as a bare affirmation, choosing to interrogate you on a different topic, “have you seen what people have been saying about you?"

“i don’t really care about what people say,” is all you have to offer.

“you haven’t,” he nods in conclusion, “they’re saying you can’t have enough of your husband’s money... they’re saying you’re coming here everyday to grovel over his mother’s feet to let you stay married - that’s how i know you’d be here. and judging from the looks of it, they’re not too far off.”

it takes you a good solid minute to stomach the new found information. you haven’t been checking social media because of those same exact malicious comments but that was just the beginning of a downward spiral of your reputation - you never thought your efforts and hard work of burning your fingers on hot stoves and redoing dishes to get a perfect one would be met with an assumption of groveling over mrs. kim’s feet all for your husband’s money.

“god, i need a smoke,” jungkook huffs, receiving a look from the waiter that’s setting your drinks down. only after she’s gone does he present you with another set of questions. “was he the one that paid off dad’s debts? all of them? even the loan sharks?”

“that...” you nod once, failing to keep your head high as you twirl the straw of your frappe around but don’t even take a sip, “and the money i said i had saved up and lent you to start your company,” you quickly add,“- but taehyung doesn’t care about that - he wouldn’t accept it even if you wanted to pay him back twice the amount.”

“then why are you...” it’s the way his voice breaks at the end that makes you look up only to see a man whose eyes are a little sunken and cheeks a little hollow - almost as if he hasn’t been sleeping nor eating well because of his foolish sister, “why are you letting that woman trample all over you like this? wouldn’t it be easier to just get a divorce-”

“that woman is my mother in law, jungkook. at least, practice the same level of respect you’ve been preaching about,” you speak over him - it’s funny how taehyung once stood up against the same woman you’re standing up for, for you.

when all that follows is silence, you go on. this time, in a much demurred tone, “and it’s not about letting myself get trampled over... if mom found out you lied about something and she’s acting like mother does because she’s hurt, would you just go on with your life like nothing happened?”

it takes a moment for him to register what you said before taking on a much less hostile tone though still just as firm, “___, this is your life... i don’t know what kind of ‘happy family’ delusion you’ve been living in but i’m willing to bet all my money that it’s not taehyung that gave you those papers to sign and made you cry in the bathroom stall for thirty minutes-” he throws you look, “yeah, i saw you go into the washroom after coming out of her room. i was gonna call you but you looked like you had to take a huge dump so i waited but we know that’s not the case now.”

silence lapses between you for the umpteenth time before you stubbornly announce, “i could’ve been taking a dump - you don’t know.”

the sight of jungkook’s jaw dropping and hitting the ground is laughable, if not for the fact that he’s shaking his head five seconds later. vexed. irritated, “this is getting ridiculous - we’re going home. now.”

and he doesn’t mean the penthouse that you and taehyung shares.

shooting up, his hand grasps your wrist and he would have dragged you all the way to the car if you hadn’t protested.

“jungkook, no - i’m not going anywhere,” pulling your hand back, you stand a good one head shorter in front of your brother which doesn’t do much for your cause.

“___, if not for you then do it for mom and dad - they’re getting too old to be worrying about their one and only daughter’s marriage prospect,” he tries to coax, knowing full well your heart would wither like a flower at the mention of your parents worrisome nature - especially when your business is out in the open no matter how hard you try to hide it, “and you haven’t been answering their calls either.”

“i know, i just-” before you can even finish your sentence, a flash of garnet and bridal pink catches your eyes.

“____... jungkook, i didn’t think you’d be in korea. how are you?” taehyung’s warm baritone is laced with confusion as he stares at your brother and then at you for a sort of explanation but before you can even open your mouth, jungkook’s already has his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, “yeah, well someone’s gotta clean up the mess you started. ___’s coming back home with me - back to her real home.”

“i’m not - stop saying that and let me go,” you tug on your wrist only to wince at the pressure of his grasp, “jungkook, you’re hurting me!”

“hey, let my wife go,” taehyung takes a peaceful step forward, “we can talk ab-”

“oh no,” the laugh tumbling out of jungkook’s mouth drips with malice, “no, see, you lost your knight in shining armor privilege after you quite literally lied to our faces about how you’ll take care of my sister until ‘death do you apart’ when all it took was mommy dearest pretending to get sick while everyone labels my sister a gold-digging wh-”

you taking a step forward with a balled fist, is completely instinctive and you would say taehyung prancing towards the dark haired man with a fist that actually hits the mark, was also instinct-driven. except that he probably has better aim and his punches hurt more than yours ever would.

the first one, you admit was satisfying but when your brother ends up on the ground with your husband throwing blow after blow, you have no choice but to intervene.

“taehyung, stop!” the shriek that echoes against the walls almost burst your eardrums. you would have believed it to be mrs. kim if not for the fact that she’s nowhere in sight and you’re the one with your hands grasping onto your husband’s arms, trying to hold him back from sending blow after blow onto your brother’s half-conscious face.

“taehyung, don’t stop,” you frown, taking a seat next to him while swiping the ice bag off his lap before gently pressing it to his darkened jawline, “seokjin said to keep the ice on the bruise for at least an hour.”

“ahhh - ow - ow-!” the man whines, eyes screwed shut as his grits his teeth together but doesn’t recoil from your touch.

“maybe you should’ve thought twice about throwing a punch at a trained boxer,” you shake your head, lips curling into an inevitable smile.

after taehyung’s had a round of punches in, jungkook managed to flip them over so that he’s the one pinning the elder man down. the events that unfolded after that were the least bit pretty. the nurses and doctors attending nearby patients rushed to the two struggling men and then there’s you, shifting the shouting to your brother to “god damn it, jungkook! stop being a dick!”

it took five men - doctors and just-arrived guards alike - to pry your brother off your husband who still tried to get a punch in and was held back by seokjin who finally arrived at the scenes with half a mind to knock the both of them out as he calmly orders for jungkook to be dragged into one of those empty rooms akin to the one mrs. kim is staying at.

because taehyung was the one who started the fight, seokjin decided that an ice pack would do for the taller man whilst he treats jungkook and orders the other doctors to go back to their post.

picking up the mixture of garnet and bridal pink roses, he stares at their wilted petals for the longest moment, face painted with dejection. they must have been specifically ordered for mrs. kim-

“these are for you,” your train of thoughts halts in its track at taehyung’s words. his hand levitating midair as though unsure of whether to hand the bouquet to you or toss them away, “or were,” then he captures your gaze and you don’t think you can ever find your way out of the maze he’s able to hold you captive in with just his eyes, “you deserve fresh flowers specifically plucked from its stalk - you deserve a whole garden, actually-”

“taehyung,” your free hand covers his as if to say, “they’re lovely, thank you.” placing the ice pack down, you cup both hands around the flowers, bringing them to your nose, “and they smell wonderful - i love pink roses.”

“i know,” the tiniest smile peeks from his lips, “you told me that.”

“i did?” you blink, surprised.

“at our wedding reception, you got a little tipsy and started sobbing because the roses were blush pink and not bridal pink,” the sound of his chuckles drums in your ears like hymns just like it did a year ago.

back when you were decked in an elegant off shoulder white gown after changing out of your wedding dress. you’d stood in the sidelines while your families and friends danced to their hearts’ content to the sound of the music. white champagne in your hand, the background beginning to turn fuzzy and your thoughts began to get louder.

it didn’t help that the object of your frustrations was smack dab covering every inch of the vicinity from the gargantuan rose covered backdrop, to the tiny vases in every single table.

the sob hits the air like the first raindrop. you had to clasp your hand to your mouth as if you were about to cough to hide your mouth stretching into your crying mouth - you don’t know how to explain it but your lips tend to morph into an unshapely sight whenever you cry and covering it when you feel the waterworks coming has always been second nature. as for the tears - they were concealable because the lights were dim enough.

but then there was someone next to you - he just popped up out of nowhere really and because you were standing in the darkest corner, you couldn’t pick out any defining features besides his height but you didn’t have much time to ponder on that as his question fills your eardrums, “so, how does saying goodbye to the bachelorette life feels like?”

“it’s terrible,” you’d wept some more and he shifted on his feet slightly, as though noticing the tear in your voice but luckily for him, he didn’t even have to ask because you were spilling your innermost thoughts out loud, “they- they gave me blush pink and garnet roses- i want bridal pink and garnet roses.”

“oh,” distinctively rang in your ears among the sound of instruments and joyful laughter.

then comes another input, “i didn’t know they messed up your request,” and you didn’t know why he’d sounded like he was about to murder someone.

“yeah and,” you sniffle, “- and i didn’t wanna say anything because- because i don’t wanna be that bratty bride who picks on every little detail.”

that morning, you woke up to a box full of roses and they were the lightest shade of pink. taehyung was already awake and offered to ring up breakfast for the both of you after he’d bid you a good morning and a “something came in for you.”

the gifts were prearranged to be sent to the penthouse instead of your suite but then again, there were chocolates and champagne bottles that made past the hotel doors because of its edible nature - the roses too... their fleeting livelihood seemed like you’d enjoy them better in your hotel room than a week later after you’d come back from your honeymoon.

the card didn’t even leave initials but had ‘roses for a rose’ playfully written in cursive black ink. your heart blooms a garden but your head is what makes you search for your newly wed husband, only to see him looking at you with a tender smile - one that you thought manifested because of your own involuntary smile when you’d read the note.

“i don’t think these are for us,” you could feel the frown setting into your features, causing taehyung’s own brows to furrow.

“i think these are for... me,” and so you told a tale of a woman with ambitions rather than stars in her eyes, who felt a compulsion to at least tell the truth to her husband and the stranger whom she met at her wedding. of course, omitting the teary eyed part and the blush and bridal pink roses part.

taehyung had easily chuckled while the staff set down plates of delicacies on the round meant-for-two-people-on-a-honeymoon table, saying, “he has fine taste - they’re from halls & tara,” after the staff left.

it didn’t occur to you that the h&t initials on the top right corner of the card stood for the most well known florist in seoul until he’d pointed it out, which could only mean he’d been suspicious enough to take longer than a glance at the flowers.

“do you mind if i keep them? at least, until they’re not as fresh anymore.” you quickly added the last part.

“you can keep them in a vase and have them live longer... why? are they not the shade of pink you wanted?” he blinked once, hand halting midair as he was about to take a mouthful of pancakes.

“well- no, they’re perfect actually - i love them,” you almost stutter in your haste to explain while trying to be casual about how devastated you would be if- “it’s just that... i really didn’t know him or who he was- but he obviously knew me because it’s hard not to know the lady of the day- i’m not breaching any terms-”

it’s the way the trickles of laughter filling the otherwise silent room that got you to clamp your mouth shut. the way kim taehyung looked so ethereal and majestic in the pristine black and white setting of the room.

“i don’t mind,” he’d clarified a moment later, eyes twinkling with the remnants of laughter, “i understand why he’d want to desperately send you these if only to see you smile softly like you did - you look beautiful when you smile, by the way.”

the compliment had caught you off guard and your heart might or might not have somersaulted but if there’s anything seven years of becoming a stewardess has taught you, it was to always prepare an adequate response to every situation - and at that time, kim taehyung was infamous for his quick wits and reputation with the ladies. of course, words sweet as honey would come easy for him.

“thank you,” and so were the words of gratitude on your part as you schooled a smile and dug into the pancakes your husband made.

but sitting on the black leather couch, holding onto a similar colored bouquet, you can’t help but blurt out, “that was you? i was bawling my eyes out because of some mismanagement to my husband who didn’t even recognize?” something between a disbelieving scoff and an irony-induced laugh escapes your mouth, “why didn’t you tell me?”

taehyung’s shoulder line shakes as he shrugs, hand going up to scratch the back of his head as he drops his gaze, as if searching for the answer only to look back up into your eyes with a, “i didn’t think you’d be as happy if you knew it was me,” his gaze falters, like a bud of fear blooming behind his irises,

“why wouldn’t i be?” you blink once, not quite understanding where he’s coming from.

that is, until a small smile slips onto his lips and it’s heartbreaking to witness and even more devastating to know you’re in no place to let your arms gather him into a hug like you wish. to kiss his forehead until his worries disappear.

he twines his fingers with yours, thumbing the diamond on your fourth finger, “i’m sorry that i took away your choice to marry for love - that’s a bit corny isn’t it?” he scrunches his nose and you can’t help but giggle, “it’s not just some short term contract since we both agreed divorce is never in the equation,” neither of you believe in tainting the sanctity of marriage - no matter what cause it was founded upon - with separation, “but god, the things you’re going through right now - i promise i’ll make things right.”

taehyung’s eyes tend to appear in different shades along with his emotions - though you know it’s most probably the lighting. dark brown is for when he’s scrutinizing the hollow smiles and empty compliments he gets at functions. but sometimes you find yourself catching hazel.

like right now, as they capture yours and look at you as if you’re the only one he sees.

“taehyung...” you thought you knew what you wanted to say when you said his name but as you get lost in the midnight dessert of his eyes, you’re not sure if you can even muster so much as a squeak without falling apart.

and that’s when a knock reverberates into the air like thunder, forcing you to jolt away from the man until no part of you is touching any part of him.

“hey,” a somber voice greets as jungkook leans against the doorframe, “so they fixed me up and the chairman wants me gone in,” he looks down at his wrist, “two minutes and fifty-three seconds.”

blinking away the remnants of the emotions away, you stand up, giving the man a once over. his button up is marred with a trickle of deep red a few inches over his chest, hair matted and face sporting different stages of bruising. the bleeding’s stopped for the most part.

“you’ve definitely seen better days,” you announce, walking around the couch to get to where the man is rolling his eyes at.

“sorry for calling you the w-word,” that’s definitely wasn’t what you were expecting which prompts the belated, almost suspicion induced,“...okay.”

“i did that because i needed to confirm something,” he goes on, eyes flitting over your shoulder where you know your husband is staring right back, burning holes inside your brother’s head before he looks back at you, taking a full 180 in attiude, “and don’t worry about mom and dad - i’ll take care of them.”

it takes you a moment to digest his proclamation, all the whilst hyperly aware of the hand that makes its way on your lower back as a familiar dior scent fills your senses, “so you’re not gonna drag me home?” as though disbelieving the words that came out of your mouth, you add, “that’s all it takes? a few punches to the face?”

the twitch of his eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by you. nor does the deep breath he forces himself to take at the blatant insult and insinuation of your future boxing lessons to which he warns, “don’t get any crazy ideas,” then he turns to the man next to you, “i let you hit me - let’s get that out of the way first.”

and before either you or taehyung manage to get a word in, jungkook hand comes flying to your forehead, a loud sound of skin smacking against skin echoing throughout the room as you tumble backwards with an audible “ow- hey!”, barely noticing the much larger hand that’s covering yours. inspecting the patch of skin where jungkook just flicked.

without even an apology for the uncalled for assault, he nods at something over your head, probably taehyung, “you take care of my sister, you hear me? cause there won’t be a second time.”

and then he’s gone like the wind - you would have tracked down that wind and give him a taste of his own medicine like you did when you were children. you’d jump on his back and attempt to bite a chunk of his head if your nannies didn’t pull you apart  - but right now, you couldn’t escape taehyung’s hand on your waist even if you wanted to.

“let me see,” he instructs, gently coaxing your hand to unclasp the patch of skin on your forehead so he could softly blow on it.

you stay like that, standing at the doorway with your bodies too close and taehyung refusing to unhand you until your cheeks are replaced with a different kind of heat than the anger you felt for your god forsaken brother.

“god he’s an ass - you should’ve messed up his face more,” you huff, and you don’t know why - maybe it’s the way you stomp your foot, maybe it’s the way your cheeks tend to puff when you’re feeling vindictive or maybe it’s a mystery locked in taehyung’s head that you’ll never know but his chuckles sound like hymns in your ears.

and you thought that was the end of the electrified sensation on your skin where his touch lingers until you feel a pair of the softest lips on your forehead, right where the flick was supposed to throb. a grinning taehyung looking back at you as if asking, “my nanny used to do this to me when i bump my knee against a furniture...” a flash of worry blooms in his eyes for the briefest moment before he voices his concerns, “hope the magic still works.

the sight is heartwarming. endearing even. and you can’t help smile, cheeks hot, “it does - it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

and just as you thought he’s about to release you from the torment of having your heart skip multiple beats at a time and step back, he presses another peck on your forehead. a smile gracing his features, “another one for good measure.”

it’s a surprise your legs are still holding you up with how jelly-like they’ve become.

“th-thank you.”

mrs. kim discharged herself a week after the fight but not without standing in front of the hospital with her frilly fur coat and gucci handbag while she looks at the camera and consequently straight into the screen, “i have yet received a publicly apology for what jeon jungkook did to mine by the jeons. my taehyung couldn’t even kill a fly, let alone start a fist fight-” she shivers uncontrollably as though overcome with chills, “such a barbaric, uncivilized act can only come from-”

“you’re watching that?” a smooth baritone fills the room as a figure struts in beige slacks and oversized creme sweater, “again?”

he sits on the edge the backrest of the couch, looking down at you with an expression that makes your stomach churn. with butterflies or guilt for breaking your promise to stop checking out these articles, you don’t know.

“sorry,” you mumble, placing the ipad down a few inches from your feet as you bring your legs up against your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, “worrying about how the press twists mother’s words comes from the plentiful of time i have on my hands after being sacked, i guess.”

it’s been a week since you’ve received your new schedule. to which you received a call right after to head to the headquarters in the heart of seoul only to be told that-

“___, you gotta understand, this whole fiasco going on with your family... it’s giving the airline a bad rep,” mr. bang leaned back against his recliner, his eyes hiding behind the beam of his glasses, “people are leaving bad reviews on the website that has absolutely nothing to do with our services but has everything to do with you and your husband.”

he meant the growing dissatisfaction upon the revelation of the artificiality of you and taehyung’s marriage.

nobody’s caught jungkook and taehyung in a video but there’d been witnesses and ‘sources’ affirming the two getting into a fistfight at the hospital. and so another record has been made in your long list of family drama.

“sir, please,” you could feel your eyebrows joining together from the sheer frustration and reality anchoring into the pit of your stomach, “i’ve been working for korean air -for seven years now- check my reconds,” hope blooms in your chest as you suggest the idea to your superior, “i’ve never been late, never had a customer complain about me, never made any mistakes prior to this-”

“it doesn’t matter what you did before this, ___,” he cut you off, voice heavy with emphasis.

but you weren’t backing out that easy, “please, it’s not fair to lay me off for something i have zero control in.”

at your wording, the man physically flinched, almost as though struck by a spear before he shook his head, denying your claims.

“you’re not fired,” he corrected, “you’re on paid leave... until everything calms down.”

it took everything in you not to let the frown slip onto your face. first it’s paid leave and then it a one month notice before they officially sack you - you’ve seen how this played out one too many times.

so you smiled, “with all due respect, mr. bang, how long is ‘until everything calms down’?”

the man’s shoulder line jolted as he shrugged, lower lip jutted out in a nonchalant nature, “that depends on how you choose to solve it, ___... i assume you are working on a solution, yes?”

it was a trick question. if you answered the affirmative, it’d be admitting what mrs. kim and almost everyone have been demanding - a divorce. if you answered no, then you’re as good as jobless.

“my husband and i are working on it,”  was all you say.

when taehyung found out later that night - he was livid. he was a phone call away from calling up mr. ji to sue the airline for discrimination. it took you stealing his phone away and running around the penthouse until you made him promise that he’d listen to you first.

he did, and you’d wanted to wait it out and see because, “there isn’t any damage to build our ground on anyway because i’m not fired yet.”

“well, dinner’s ready ” taehyung’s soft as silk voice tears you apart from your memroies, hand levitating midair until you take it, hoisting yourself up.

taehyung pushes himself off the couch, walking on the other side with your hand in his. it’s comical but endearing all at once and you giggle at how neither of you are willing to let the other go even though you’ll have to once you reach the four-people dining table.

“thank you,” you say as you lower yourself on the seat while he pushes the chair in for you.

home cooked meals have become a norm for the both of you ever since that day taehyung punched jungkook in the face. at first, you insisted that you should be the one cooking since he was injured but he stayed with you in the kitchen and you talked about your day and reminisced about your childhood and how you similarly had nannies that forbade you from coming into the kitchen.

then there was the peck on the top of your forehead he started doing a few days ago after you were sat and before he went around the table to get to his seat that’s across from you.

“did you go shopping today?” he asks in between cutting up the steak which he stole a whole plate from you into mini slices.

“yeah, with hwasa,” you nod - the woman had been all too delighted to see you after mismatched schedules and ghostly texts because of life and work getting in the way.

“the friend from high school?” taehyung surprises you yet again as he places your plate back in front of you, this time with the pieces all cut into edible bites. you’ve never mentioned hwasa to him - but it’s not a lie that she’s your closest friend from high school who got accepted into the same training programme as you at the beginning of your career.

“thank you-” you shoot him a smile before picking up the fork and knife, “and yeah, that’s her. we haven’t seen each other for months so we kind of went a little crazy with the dresses.”

he doesn’t look up when he speaks his next words which is why you have a trouble digesting them as you involuntarily blurt out a, “sorry- what?”

“the dresses you bought,” he reiterates, an amused smile on his lips - possibly because of your almost-choked state, “- can i see them?”

“oh,” clear your throat once, sipping down the red wine before chuckling nervously, “hwasa bought dresses - didn’t.”

taehyung hums, head tilting to the side as though trying to capture your avoidant gaze, “then put on whatever you bought that i saw lying on your bed - the door was open when i passed your room.”

at that moment, to say your heart quite literally crash against the floor, would be an understatement. it takes you a minute to gather yourself, another to force out a laugh as you attempt to brush the thought of taehyung seeing the black and red laces from savage x fenty hwasa adamantly insited you get after a story time on why you decided to get married to how something has definitely shifted between you and taehyung.

but no amount of gushing and squealing about made up scenarios brewing from hwasa’s little head could prepare you for what’s happening right at this moment.

“oh those?” a chuckle, “those are aren’t even worth showing.”

and just as you thought he’ll let the matter go like he would when you dismissively mention something that he inquired about, taehyung takes a full 180, eyes clouded with a sort of emotion you don’t dare delve into, “that’s for me to decide,” he takes a sip of the wine, pushing his chair back as he stands up, “i’m done,” with that, he places his plate down where geom, your mixed breen papillion and silky terrier shouts out an appreciative woof at the pleasant surprise.

patting the canine briefly, he turns to you, those clouded eyes seeping into your soul, “put them on - i’ll be waiting in my room.”

his footsteps echo against the walls as he ascends the stairs and disappears into the hallway where his room lies across from yours. it is a whole solid minute later, once you hear the door of his room click shut, that you make a beeline for the couch where your phone lies lonely.

dialing up the only person you know you can hold accountable for, you quite literally scream at the ‘hell-’ with a “hwasa, he wants me to put the lingerie on and show him!”

while your voice drips with dread, the other woman, choosing to be willfully oblivious, screams into your ears, “oh my god - oh my god. then what are you doing calling me?! go put them on!”

and that’s how you end up holding in a breath while deliberately repeating hwasa’s not so helpful pep talk of ‘you’re the hottest’ and ‘kim taehyung will be wrapped around your fingers by the end of the night!’

“but it’s been over a year - i’m not sure if i even know how to moan!” you’d protested while pull the strap of the garter around your thigh.

that was half an hour ago.

now, you’re debating on whether to knock like you would have before you started cuddling into the other while watching tv. but before that, you’d never did anything together unless it was family dinners and gatherings.

so you opt for pushing down the handle. the sharp ‘click’ being the only announcement of your entrance. taehyung’s walls are a deep shade of maroon almost black with the lights on its lowest setting. the sound of music playing in the background barely registers in your mind as you focus your attention to the figure that’s pushing himself up from his laying down position.

you resist the temptation to run and hide under the comfort your covers - an opposed response compared to your confident stride, placing one foot after the other until you stand a good two feet away from the bed and taehyung.

“what do you think?” the smile brandished over your face is nothing like your racing heart whlist you do a little twirl- but then again, you’ve always been such an actress.

“if the world were made of diamonds, i’d choose the rose before me... because you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid eyes on,” you wonder how he doesn’t even blink as those words pour out of his mouth, hand finding its way in the dip of your waist. staring. admiring.

“always the charmer,” you want to curse yourself for the unoriginal come back yet taehyung doesn’t seem to notice as he lets you push him to the bed whilst his eyes undress what little piece of clothing you have on as you crawl on top of him.

your toes curl at the sound of taehyung’s excruciatingly slow exhalation - almost as though he intends for it to caress your ears and seep into your pores before settling into the pit of your core.

the sharp charm of dior fills your senses as you place kisses on his neck, tucking his flesh between your teeth ever so gently, not expecting the delectable surprise that slips out of his mouth.

who would have thought kim taehyung was a moaner?

the giggle that trickles out of your mouth is blamelessly involuntary but catches his attention nonetheless, “what?”

“oh, nothing,” you nibble on his earlobe before whispering into his ears, “just thinking of how cute you’ll look moaning for me.”

and you’ve easily add to the long list of things you won’t forgive yourself in the morning. yet you still caress his growing size through his pants, giggling when the delicious sound hits the air for the second time.

“take it out,” he whimpers after one too many teases, “please.”

“only because you said please,” the way his chin tilts to follow your lips after you pecked them doesn’t go unnoticed by you but you clasp your hand against his chest, pinning him down with a shake of your head “uh-uh, you get up when i tell you to.”

the excruciating ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips is what truly lights up the flame in the pit of your stomach. you watch as his hand goes up to run through his hair in a sexually frustrated nature but doesn’t attempt to push himself up after that.

it only takes a few pumps for the clear fluid of precum to trickle over your hand, letting you smear all over his hardened dick and causing it to glisten underneath the luminescence of the room.

sparks shoot through your core and strike your heart into an erratic rhythm when you lower yourself over him, holding the slit of the black lace undergarment apart until he’s hitting every delicious inch inside of you.

you’ve barely even started to move when you break out into a cry, falling into his arms like a puppet whose strings got cut off. the arms around you are gentle as they hold you against him until you’ve come down from your high.

by the time you push yourself up, your knees are still trembling yet you nod when he cups your cheeks and forces you to look into those concern filled eyes, “are you good?”

“i’m fine,” the sniffle is probably the last thing you need to convince him, “i lost myself for a moment.”

this time, it’s his turn to chuckle, lips curling into a smirk, “it’s completely understandable to admit that you couldn’t hold out for more than a minute because i stretched you out so good.”

you want to protest - want to gain back the control you lost when he hit that sweet spot not even, yes, as he says, a minute into taking him in. but one single thrust right against that same exact spot and you’re whimpering in utter submission and devotion.

“that’s what i thought,” that damned smirk is the last thing you see before you succumb to his every wishes and command until you find yourself with a strong arm banded over your stomach, another arm reaching for a pillow and puffing it up before you feel yourself being gently lowered face flushed into it - the smallest gesture of tenderness that you didn’t expect to witness when you decided to tease him in the beginning.

the yelp when taehyung’s hands slip under the strap of the garter, doesn’t even manage to form fully when a moan replaces it as he yanks the garter and consequently, your ass against him, forcing you to swallow his entire length in one stroke.

“god, you’re so big,” if you were a little sober and a whole lot more conscious, you would have added that into the list of things you said that you would cringe at in the morning.

but you’re already one orgasm down in the foreseeable long list of orgasms that kim taehyung promises you as he sinks into you, moaning out your name like a holy mantra.

“i know you love it,” he agrees oh so innocently for someone who’s about to thrust into you like a godless being.

five strokes in and you’re cursing and screaming out in pleasure, hands gripping onto the duvet for dear life as you feel you convulse into a state of toe-curling euphoria. the way taehyung stops moving and trails down butterfly kisses down your back until the tensed muscles in your lower abdomen simmers down into pleasured twitches, doesn’t go by you.

“you can move now,” another sniffle, but this one has completely and irrevocably succumbed to your rawest desires.

it’s the soft chuckle and the one last peck on your left shoulder blade that has your heart stuttering. ungodly opposite to the way he moves his hips as he thrusts into you without so much as a warning - your last two orgasms were just preambles. ones out of the many that night that has you writhing and moaning in pleasure. some of which were incited by sides of you, you didn’t know existed.

the last thing you recall is taehyung gathering you in his arms like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you even in his sleep now that he’s had a taste. it’s endearing and daunting all at once. because for the first time since your marriage, you’re afraid of losing him.

a few days after that, you’re tying away on your macbook when taehyung comes home looking less like the man you knew. his hair, disheveled from having run his hand through them more than his hair gel allows. his eyes, carrying a sort of weight that latches onto him like parasites - or maybe that’s just the papparazzo that you noticed have been following you around. their numbers have decreased considerably after the rumor of taehyung hiring a team of lawyers which was no rumor at all.

it was the morning after you woke up with tingly legs barely able to function like it should and muscles sore but a sort of fullness in your chest when you noticed the man whose arms are wraped around you like a protective cocoon as he faintly snored away.

then came the muted sound of your phone from the other side of the hallway where your room door beckons you into its domain. it wasn’t as obnoxiously loud since it was at least twenty feet away and you would have ignored it and gone back to bed if not for the short interval signaling the person calling had finally reached the mailbox or hung up on their own. that was, before they hit call for the second time.

slipping out of taehyung’s arms, you trudged to your room with half a mind to give whoever this caller is a piece of your mind - god’s sake, the flashy red digits on your alarm clock stares at you at 5:23 in the morning.

“this better be good, hwasa or i swear-” before you can even finish the woman is already screaming into your ear like she’s being chased by an axe murderer.

“oh my god, oh my god - have you seen the news?!” except no woman chased by a murderer would sound this exhilarated, she went on before you could even get a “no one in their right mind would be checking the news at ass crack-” out.

“oh shoot, it’s still 5 something in korea, isn’t it?” she gasped - if you weren’t on paid leave, you’d be in hong kong, probably sharing rooms and getting tipsy in some club there, “but anyway, kadore’s chairman is suing insight, pullbbang and other websites for slander!” she shrieked.

"what?” you could feel the muscles on your face pulling into a contorted confusion but

after hanging up and telling hwasa you were going to look into the matter some more, you’d come up with multiple articles stating a similar fact as your overly enthusiastic best friend did. still in denial, you’d confronted your husband about it- he was still sleeping soundly when you strutted in and shook him up to which he confessed, eyes droopy and face puffy. the sight was so foreign to you because you were used to seeing him fresh and suited up but you’d found yourself making a little space in your heart for barely-just-woken-up-taehyung to reside in.

first came anger - you didn’t ask for him to do this, “what would everyone think if i went to you crying about a little bit of criticism for something i did do?” then came confusion because what exactly did you do that was so horrendously heineous to warrant these websites to write such malicious statements about you?

taehyung had seen every flash of emotions that pooled in your eyes and tugged on your fingers - you weren’t sure if he’d meant it but it successfully pulled you from drowning in your own thoughts, “i told you i’d make things right - these people won’t be able to say another word about you unless it’s the truth- that you’re a hardworking, amazing woman who deserves everything she has and yes,” he fixed you the most tender, sleepy smile “that includes the money i make - what’s the point of working if i can’t even provide my wife with the best?”

taehyung tosses the beige tuxedo onto the handrest of the couch adjacent to where you’re sitting with one leg up in nothing but a loose fitted sweater that hangs off your left shoulder. the half empty wine glass lies untouched on the coffee table since you’d put it down.

with a thump, he sinks himself into the leather material of the couch, hands cupping his face, as though if he rubs it hard enough, the deadset frown would go away.

before you know it, you’re padding over to the couch he’s on, hands finding their ways onto his shoulders, massaging the noticeable tension in his muscles until a grateful sigh slips out of his mouth, hand guiding your own to his lips where he presses a kiss on your knuckles.

only when you go around to take the spot next to him, hand smoothing out his hair, do you finally say, “is it the board again?”

mina has been keeping you updated on the turbulence that was caused by your fraudulent marriage being exposed. the chairman seat became taehyung by default when he got married as per his father’s will. but the board members have been vocal about abrogating his rights to succeeding kadore.

“there’s talk about votes demoting me to director,” he’s never sound so fragile - in taehyung’s long list of fluctuating interest from women and men to art and sculptures and to yatches and sports cars, kadore is probably the only thing he’s ever taken seriously.

you would know - seeing him decked in armani with soft wavy hair contrasting his strong features, weren’t your only reason for accepting his proposal of marriage. it had more to do with the way he spoke about the company. in a dimly lit room just like now, with a wine glass in his hand and the cityscape underneath that gave an illusion of stilled fireflies scattered all across the city, taehyung had spoken of his unforgivable regrets. the deals he’d let pass by. the merges he’d settled with instead of aiming higher. the brands he didn’t reach out to.

those regrets birthed fears and those fears were what made him even entertain the notion of a beneficial marriage.

or as the board likes to call it, an atrociously wickedly schemed marriage.

“they won’t have a ground to depose you to a director’s position if they can’t provide a solid reason,” you say and he blinks, clueless, hopeless.

it’s almost as if you’re facing a whole different man.

“what do you mean?”

“i’m talking about us doing what we do best,” you fix him a smile - one that probably needs a little convincing and grounding but a smile nonetheless, “we show them that the kims aren’t to be messed with,” you pause, letting the silence settle into brimming suspense before finally saying, “it’s been awhile since we’ve made a public appearance together, hasn’t it? how does lunch sound like?”

and so goes your multiple appearances in the most top notch restaurant together. the lack of chauffeur wasn’t intentional but helpful nonetheless to prove that the chairman was hopeless and irrevocably mad for his wife that he’d drive all the way to wherever she was to pick her up and then drive them to the designated restaurant instead of the convenience of meeting at said restaurant from wherever you both were prior to that.

then there was the hand holding, hip grabbing and not going a minute without smiling and giggling about what the other said. to outsiders, it would have looked as if things hadn’t been all that different - except you’d finally came out of your 1 billion doller cave after the whole ‘fiasco’ with your families. but it was the little hand kisses and forehead pecks in between taehyung making mini runs to get to your side to open your car door.

and the ‘how was your day’s and which are followed by a ‘you’re still deadset on working, huh?’s each time you told him about your in-the-work resume since you’re ‘at the risk of getting a notice of resignation any time soon’.

“what if you started your own business? i could buy a whole building in nonhyeon-dong that you could make as your headquarters?” he offers in between twirling the pasta around his fork after you insisted that- “my job is the only thing that i’ve got going on for me to prove that i’m not a gold-digger that everyone thinks i am.”

“i was thinking more like travelling from place to place like...” you shoot him a ‘you know’ smile before adding, “a cabin crew.”

“one of korean air’s biggest shareholders are letting go of her stock because her color pencil business isn’t doing so well these days,” he nods, deeply contemplative, “they’re gonna be sacking a few employees if they don’t get buyers by the next two months,” he surmises with a concluding nod to which you end up laughing and almost choking on your food.

picking up the water on your right, you quickly gulp it down before clarifying as to why you found his statement so funny that you’d risk your esophagus in the process, “no, tae,” that nickname is also one of the little things that just happens - you don’t miss the tuck in the corners of his lips when it slips off your tongue, “it’s sweet of you to want to buy me a share of the airline i’m working for but that’s the thing, it’s your money,” you reach out for his hand, smiling when he meets yours halfway.

a warm pressure engulfs your hand as he squeezes briefly, “and i told you, what’s mine is yours.”

“likewise,” you fix him a grateful smile, “but i like flying. i like being a cabin crew - on top of holding onto my job to prove people wrong, of course.”

the longest pause hovers over you like a grey clouds with taehyung’s beautiful but contemplating eyes holding you captive. as though trying to take you out part by part, trying to figure you out.

“then, what would you like me to do?” the question catches you off guard, like being hit by a wild baseball even though you’re walking right next to a baseball field, “you’ve always been so good at taking care of yourself - when you broke down in front of me... at the hospital... i didn’t know what to do-” his lips quiver just the slightest bit, almost as though holding back invisible tears, “tell me what to do. because it feels like everything i do isn’t the slightest bit helpful. ”

all of a sudden, the sands of time seem to have stopped, levitating midair within the dip of the hourglass. it’s daunting but heartbreaking at the same time - the sight of raw fear and uncertainty that’s pooling within taehyung’d eyes like unmoving river - you never knew your attempts to hold up your values reflects as a declaration of nonessential to taehyung’s own attempts to reach out to you.

“i don’t need you - to fight my battles, to solve my problems for me - though i’m immensely grateful that you did,” you say after what feels like an eternity, “but i want you so... stay as you are, supporting me like you’re doing now.”

“i don’t know if that counts as support - i’m not doing anything,” he counters, eyes downcasted until you reach out your other hand to cover his that’s already holding your left hand.

“you are - you never invalidated my feelings of wanting to work, you encouraged me to do bigger things and that means you believe in me - maybe i will take up that offer in the future but right now, i want to keep doing what i always have been,” you fix him a smile, “and i want to do it with you by my side.”

the tiniest of smile that slips onto his face tells you that his heart is still in a state of unrest. unconvinced. but he’s trying as he nods, “if that’s what you want,” and you thought that’s the end of it. until the foreshadowing “but,” that comes a second later, “i’m not gonna stop worrying and trying to fix things - we’re married, your problems are my problems too.”

the chuckle escapes your mouth signifies the good natured jest of your next words as you summon your hands back, already missing the warmth of his much larger ones around you, “well we weren’t exactly on that term until just recently.”

a shadow casts itself over taehyung’s handsome face as he picks up his fork, “that’s something i’ll regret for the rest of my life - not getting to know you beyond the contract sooner.”

“everyone makes mistakes,” you shrug before taking a peek at his expression as you mention a certain free spirited woman, “besides, you were too caught up with jeongyeon on our first year of marriage.”

she had been one of the few people who’d managed to bring out a side of taehyung you never knew existed.

boyish. bratty. someone who actually bicker and whines about the littlest things and everything that was on the opposite spectrum the crisp, suit-wearing, slicked back hair, charming man you married. sometimes, when you go out to dinners or the little moments when you find yourselves alone while attending functions, you see glimpses of that playful, boyish side of him. the human side of him.

over time, you realize that that’s also part of what makes taehyung... well, taehyung. it’s just only recently that you start seeing more than glimpses of these sides behind closed doors.

the way his eyes widen is enough for you to know that you’ve hit the nail right on its head. if the incomprehensible stuttering isn’t, “that... i was... we didn’t-”

“i know,” you fix him a jesting smile, “you may be a certified charmer for the most part but you’re not a homewrecker, tae.”

lunch goes on with you talking about how your father and brother are thrilled to have you and taehyung over for your monthly dinner. to which the man was partly confused and partly shivered in his seat at the thought of sitting down at a table with two of your favorite men in the world no doubt shooting him daggers while you’re not watching - or pretend that you don’t notice.

“i can’t avoid father forever,” he laments, finally giving into his fate as you walk out the restaurant, “and i have a lot of owning up to do to your family.”

“as do i,” you hum in agreement once before murmuring a ‘thank you’ as he holds the car door open after tipping the valet.

it’s only five minutes into the ride, once the car rolls to a stop at a red light does he turn to you, “you know, you don’t have to... with mom, reconciliation is a two way thing and she...” you notice the way his grip tightens around the wheel, eyes darkening as he breathes in, grounding himself “- she even made you file for divorce.”

the papers she’d given you that day still lied in your drawer, hidden away from taehyung’s pyromaniac hands. you’d caught him almost setting them on fire when you he found it lying on the counter after he’d returned home. all because spent a good chunk of the afternoon staring at it before leaving it to take a hot bath, not realizing taehyung would be home any time soon. ever since then, he hadn’t been on speaking terms with mrs. kim. turned down offers for dinners and luncheons, as he had directly told her in front of you through a phone call, “...not until you apologize to ___ first.”

“tae, mother was hurt by our lies and i understand why, i can’t promise i’ll be as accepting if i found out the daughter-in-law i cherished so much didn’t marry my son for love like i thought they did,” you lightly pat his hand that’s on the gear but instead he captures your fingers between his and guide them to his lips as he traps you within those beautiful eyes.

“you’re too kind for your own good, you know that?” there they are again, hazel underneath the light. but clouded with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

but before you can even muster a word, his eyes are already focused on the road as the car propels itself forward. but he doesn’t let go of your hand. he keeps it twined with his between yours and the gear. almost as if he didn’t want to be apart from you if he could help it. and neither could did you as you rub tiny motions into the back of his hand.

in your defense, you’ve stolen a precious gem from her that no money or gold could ever replace. and no matter how much you cherish the bond that formed after hours spent on shopping, tea times and mother-daughter (in-law) vacations, you’re not kind enough to unwrap him from your little fingers.

a smile curls on your lips as you guide taehyung’s hand to yours, placing a kiss on his knuckles and watching as his own lips tuck at the corners.

you’ll just have to make it up to mother some other way.

x

note. if you enjoy this then please leave a comment either below or in my inbox! and check out the other members’ installments to the series filed under ‘verse’ on top!

[woniepop]

encore

➜ sunghoon had never fallen in love with anything the way he did with skating. the wind in his face, the crunch of the ice beneath his feet, it was wonderful. and yet, something about it made your blood boil. you once loved ice skating too, for the same reasons as he, but maybe all you needed was a simple goodbye to understand park sunghoon.

wc: 4.6k

genre: ice skating au, best friends to lovers (ish), angst, fluff, romance, slice of life

content warnings: illness, mentions of medication, mentions of blood, death, mentions of anxiety, mentions of fainting, hospitals, angst, death of a loved one

heavily based off Your Lie in April

tagging: @svnghoonie @unghoon @swanlakesujin​ @heeblr @sweetseung @ferxanda @katberri @usdolans @kisshoons @scintillasofbeomgyu @leemika @qngelhoonie​ 

a/n: hi everyone! this is my first time i’m writing something like this, so i hop eyou guys enjoy it because i’d be super down to write more in the future. 

Friday, October 16, 2020

The busy sounds of couples, families, and friends fill the air as the cold wind hits your face. Holding hands with your mom, you glide through the ice, laughter filling the entire rink. The bleachers, the other skaters, the floor, it all disappears and the only thing that’s left is you and your mom. Your seven year old self had never felt so alive. 

And yet, here you were, seventeen, staring off into the ice rink as other kids and their mothers ice skated. Ever since you fell in love with the sport it had been the bane of your existence. Mom died, so you stopped. You swore to never go back again, it gave you anxiety. You tried, you really did, but something about being on the ice reminded you so much of the past you wanted to leave behind. It went downhill from then on. 

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” a familiar voice calls out to you. Sunghoon, who had been practicing for his upcoming competition, leans against the side of the rink, talking to you who was sitting on the bleachers. 

“Just my mom again,” you reply. 

“It’s been a while since she passed away, huh. Should we go get some ice cream to cheer you up then?” He says as he skates towards the exit, walking to you. You stand up, bag in hand, and wait for him to change out of his skates. Sunghoon, who had been your best friend since your five year old skating class, had been with you through everything. He always seemed to know just what to say to cheer you up. 

“Hey, y/n. Do you think you’d ever try to skate again?” Sunghoon asks, fully knowing the answer but hoping maybe this time it'll be different. 

“Haha, you really want me to get back into skating that badly?” 

“Well, it’s been a while since you’ve done it. You don’t have to compete with me again, you know. But why don’t you just try it again for fun?” 

You stop in your tracks and think about it. It wouldn’t hurt to try for fun. It was your life at one point. “Fine, tomorrow afternoon. But that’s it.” you say, watching his face light up. 

Saturday, October 17, 2020

“Don’t let go, Sunghoon. I SAID DON’T LET GO.” You shout, as he laughs. 

“Y/n, just relax. You know this. I’m letting go now.” 

“SUNGHOON!” you shout. Your legs bent and you stand in place, too scared to move. You watch as he takes your hand and guides you around the rink. The nostalgia comes rushing back. The wind in your face, the feeling of your feet gliding across the ice like nothing, it had been so long. Before you realize it, you had let go of Sunghoon and gone way ahead of him. Looking back, you find him smiling at you. You remember this feeling, and you loved it. 

You’d definitely got your love of skating from your mom. Being the daughter of a professional skater, it had been your dream to be like her. She was and always will be your role model. When you had quit skating you wondered if she’d be disappointed in you for quitting, but thoughts of her always flooded your mind and you could never focus on the task at hand. You knew your mom would never be disappointed in you, but you were disappointed in you. 

It had been half an hour of skating and an all too familiar voice calls out to you.

“Y/n!”

“Mom?” you say in response. You look back, no one. Not soon after, your breathing gets heavy, the world starts spinning and the nostalgia of the rink gets washed over by spots of black, your head was pounding. You keep looking. Where was she? Why was this happening? You wanted to hug her. Was she proud of you? Upset that you didn’t skate anymore? Why did she leave you? Before you know it, you could feel Sunghoon holding you on the floor before going unconscious.

Sunday, October 18, 2020

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” Sunghoon says, clutching your hand while kneeling next to your bed. 

“Sunghoon, I’m fine. It’s not your fault.” 

“BUT IT IS! I asked you to skate with me and now you’re hurt.” 

“I’m not hurt. It’s okay.” you say as you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. You look at the clock. 7pm. It was the next day. “Don’t you have practice? Let’s go.” 

“What do you mean let’s go?!? You just woke up??” Sunghoon utters in a panic.

“Yeah, which means I’m energized. I need to make sure you don’t stay there for too long and hurt yourself too.” you say, standing up to shoo Sunghoon out so you can change. “Wait on the couch,” 

A few moments later you both were out the door and on the bus to the ice rink. 

“I’m not going to stay for long then. I don’t want you to be out for too long.” He decides. 

“That’s fine.” 

The noise Sunghoon’s skates made as they hit the ice and the chilly air gave you comfort as you watched him run through his routine. Running his fingers through his hair, your eyes follow him wherever he went. He knew you were watching, which was why he was putting on his best performance. The both of you had never felt butterflies for each other like the way you did now. Before you knew it, the two of you were falling hard. 

“Y/n, let’s go now.” Sunghoon says as his chest rises up and down, panting from his last run. 

“Okay, you did good today.” You compliment him as you walk to the bus. His hand accidentally bumps into yours. You desperately wished that he had gone to hold yours, but he was just your best friend. Nothing more. The ride was filled with a comfortable silence. You stared out the window while Sunghoon stared at you. Feeling his gaze on you, you turn to look at him only for him to turn away and pretend like he was looking the other way. Having spent almost everyday for the past ten years with Sunghoon, you guys never needed to talk constantly, having each other there was just enough to have a great day. 

You get off together, but Sunghoon was acting suspiciously jittery. He walks you home, but you see him turn the opposite direction of your house once you’re inside. Weird. 

Alone, Sunghoon gets back on the bus. His home was close enough to walk from your house, though. “What was he doing?”, you thought.

Arriving at his destination, Sunghoon sighs as he puts a hand up to his backpack strap. 

“Name?” the receptionist asks. 

“Park Sunghoon.” 

“Sunghoon! I’m sorry to see you back. You’ve grown so well. The doctor is ready for you in room 306. Good luck!” 

In and out of hospitals ever since the seventh grade, twelve year old Sunghoon stands in the dark hospital hallway, watching his parents cry in the moonlit lobby. He didn’t have much time left, he thought. 

Trudging through the all too familiar hallways, Sunghoon makes a left turn and opens the fourth door to the right. He knew this place like the back of his hand. 

“Hey Sunghoon! Welcome back! Just take a seat over there and I’ll start preparing to run some tests and then we’ll talk about starting your physical therapy.” The doctor says in a way too cheerful voice. 

“That sound’s good. Thank you.” Sunghoon replies. Hearing the sound of the door clicking shut, Sunghoon sat deep in thought. He wanted to skate with you again, but he was worried about your health. Just one more time. That was what he wanted. The glimmer in your eyes, you huge yet adorable smile. He wanted to see it again. 

Next Saturday, October 24, 2020

The day started out hectic but you finally found your seat in the stands. You waited for them to announce Sunghoon. Alas, he came gliding out and the crowd was already cheering. Before he starts his eyes search for you, smile widening when his eyes finally meet with yours. Although he had other passions, like skating, his favorite one would always be you. The music starts and the audience quiets down. You had probably seen this routine over 100 times, but something about the setting, the mood, made it seem like a whole new dance. Every move he made drew you further in. He pushed the audience to the edge of their seats leaving them in awe. It was all for you. Everything about him at that moment was brilliant. Once he ends, the audience roars and Sunghoon, not surprisingly, ends up winning. Of course he won. He was your Sunghoon. 

You make a beeline towards the performers’ hall and jump onto Sunghoon’s back, accidentally hitting his face with the flowers you had purchased a few moments before. 

“Y/n, I told you to stop buying me these. They’re a waste of money.” Sunghoon giggles, happy to see you. You’d had always brushed them off as a pretty reward for a pretty performer, but there had always been a separate meaning behind the red tulips you give him. They would always end up in your home, in the glass vase next to the couch. A gift from your father to your mother, every Friday. Red tulips, the symbol of true love. 

“Alright, I need to go change, wait here.” he says, leaving you behind. 

An hour goes by and you were starting to get a bit worried. You knock on his changing room door. Nothing. Did he leave without you? You knock on the door again, and nothing. Opening the door, your eyes widen and you let out a gasp. Sunghoon had fainted due to exhaustion and the blood from his head injury had stained the floor. 

You call the ambulance and thankfully they arrive quickly. Refusing to leave Sunghoon’s side, you watch as the nurses wrap bandages around his head. This had been the first time you’d seen Sunghoon like this. Was it happening often? Did he not get enough sleep last night? 

“Sunghoon, I’m glad to see you’re awake. You passed out from exhaustion again and we’ve handled your head injury. You’re free to go anytime.” The doctor says. 

“Again?”  you ask. 

“Yeah, but only a long time ago. You don’t need to worry about it.” Sunghoon says. “My parents have been overreacting and making me get routine tests, though.” 

As a kid, you hated going to the hospital, and Sunghoon knew that. It was bland, it was boring, but most of all it’s the place you lost your mother. You hated the hospital. You’d come almost every month, week even, watching them run tests on your mom, prescribe her what seemed to be like hundreds of different medications, it was terrible. Losing your parent to cancer was not fun. No more skating, no more family days, no more cheering at competitions. Your family dinners turning to just you and your dad, and then just you. Referring to your parents as my “parent,”. Learning how to live life without the person you cherished most. It seemed like your life revolved around that retched place you called the hospital. 

The rain poured and thunder boomed through the quiet hospital. He had sent you home before it rained, not wanting you to get wet and sick from the cold. Sunghoon sat still and thought to himself in his bed. “I see, so I’ve passed out again,” he thinks.

Monday, October 26, 2020

The chair screeches across the floor as Sunghoon drags it to your desk. 

“Y/nnnnnnn” he whines, seeing you eat your gummy worms. 

“No.” 

“But I’m hungryyyy” he cries. You roll your eyes, placing one in his hand. You watch as he holds one side close to his mouth as if he was waiting for something. 

“Sunghoon, what are you doing?” you ask. 

“Bite the other side” he says, causing your face to go red. 

“No”

“yes”

“no” 

“why not?” he says with his best attempt at puppy eyes and a pout. 

“why?” you ask, hoping he hasn’t noticed your tomato red face yet

“cause I want to. we can lady and tramp it.” he says. “you know you want to.” 

“I’m not going to lady and tramp a gummy worm with you. eat it or i’m taking it back.” you argue.

“Fine, but I have a proposal.” he announces. “I want to enter the next competition with you. Just one. Give me one more duet before you quit for good.” 

“no,” you reply. “I’m never skating again.” 

“Why not? You love it” 

“Why do you want me to skate so badly?” you ask. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell you the real reason. He couldn’t tell you he was dying, that was a huge no. 

“I miss being able to skate with my best friend. I feel so lonely.” he says, puppy eyes resurfacing. 

“I’ll think about it then.” 

“Good. Meet me at the ice rink on Saturday at 10am” he exclaims before getting up to go back to his desk. 

“I haven’t even agreed.” 

“Oops I can’t hear you!” he says as you roll your eyes. 

Saturday, October 31, 2020

Little you steps off the ice as tears threatened to pour out of your eyes. Running out of the rink into the changing room, you latch on to your mother. 

“Mommy, I’m not gonna win,” you say. Her hand comes up to run her fingers through your hair. She coos at you until your breathing has relaxed. 

“Why don’t you think you’d win, honey? I loved watching you out there. You were so beautiful.” she says. 

“I fell on the ice! Winners don’t do that. I wanted to win just like you.” you manage to sniffle out. You feel your mother give you a kiss on the forehead before kneeling and holding both of your hands. 

“Ah, you see, my love, they do! Mommy fell all the time! She still falls! I promise you no winner has never fallen. Mommy only wins because she knows what it’s like to fall! Even if you don’t win, mommy is very proud of you, okay?” she says. 

You bolt up from your sleep. It was just a dream. Scrunching your face, holding back the tears that threatened to spill out, you force yourself to get ready for the day, not giving any time to be sad and reminisce. 

You enter the complex, Sunghoon standing at the entrance of the rink, impatiently waiting for you. He was so excited. This was going to work out for him. You both walk to the bleachers to satrt lacing your skates, Sunghoon practically bouncing off the walls. 

“Aw man, I forgot my hair tie” you complain. Sunghoon pauses lacing his boots and holds his arm out to you. 

“Here” Sunghoon says as you look at the extra hair tie on his wrist. 

“Why do you have these.” you ask. 

“You always forget.” he says, unsurprised.

“Awwww you were thinking of me?” you teased. 

“Of course, idiot. Did you forget? I’m never not thinking of you” Sunghoon argued, wallking away, leaving you dumbfounded and blushing like a tomato. 

Once again you step into the rink. You were stronger this time. Taking a deep breath you start to glide across the ice once again. It was very unsettling, though. Being on the ice, having fainted the last time you were here. Both you and Sunghoon were on edge, but you were determined to help him win this competition. 

The day was filled with talking with your instructor, cleaning up your spins and jumps, and getting back to where you were before. You were getting it and you showed no signs of panic. Sunghoon was so proud of you. YOU were proud of you.

Sunghoon was happy, and he was hopeful. On his walk home all his thoughts were filled with you. Loving you ever since the seventh grade, when he found out he had an illness. He had decided never to tell you, fearing his time would come and leave you alone, but it was too late now. He didn’t want to push you away, you were his ride or die. His heart ached, he didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want you to have to live alone. 

Opening the door to his home, he walks through the hallway, leaning against the wall limping to his room. Every big event Sunghoon would write you a letter, and so tonight he poured his heart out onto this piece of paper, tears staining his face. 

Sunday, November 1, 2020

On Sunday, you show up to his house unexpectedly but not surprisingly. “Sunghoon, get dressed. We’re going to the market.” you say. Without question, he does as you ask and you both head to the market in no time.

Walking down the ice cream aisle, you grab all the flavors you enjoy, filling your whole basket with different ice creams, toppings, fruit, drinks, and even a cake. “You’re quite hungry, aren’t you?” Sunghoon teases, earning him a slap to the arm.

As soon as you get home, you send Sunghoon alone to his bedroom, telling him you need time to prepare everything. You had pulled all the stops, whipping out the cheap snoopy shaved ice maker, birthday party hats, streamers, balloons, and banners. It was no one’s birthday in particular, but the fake birthday party put you in a festive and refreshing mood. You had set up a giant ice cream sundae bar, and had even made lemonade.

Calling Sunghoon to come out of the bedroom, he was not surprised but very impressed. Wanting to make it even more fun, he suggests to make sundaes for one another, which you happily agree to. The day was so fun, and it was hardly possible, but Sunghoon had fallen in love with you even more. 

Sunghoon was so happy that you planned something like this. He was never one to do anything cute for you unless you begged, so this time he wanted to show you how grateful he was to you by giving you one FREE boop on the nose. Scooping some ice cream with his fingertip, he lightly taps your nose, leaving the melted strawberry ice cream to drip off your nose. You turn to look at him in disgust, eventually dipping your finger in the ice cream and starting a war. 

Monday, November 2, 2020

From: Sunghoon (sent at 7:30am) 

[ GOOD MORNIN PARTY PEOPLE!!! ] 

From: you

[ where are you ]

From: Sunghoon

[ Oh yeah I forgot to tell you I’m not coming today. ]

From: you

[ what, why? I don’t wanna eat lunch alone like a loser. ]

From: Sunghoon

[ oh yeah. i’m back at the hospital LMAOOOO ]

From: you

[ WHY ]

From: Sunghoon

[ idk i forgot. i just woke up here and they were like “hihi” and i said “hihi” back ]

From: you

[ you are unbelievable. i’m coming after school. ]

From: Sunghoon

[ NO DON’T ] 

From: you

[ why ]

From: Sunghoon 

[ i don’t wanna get yelled at again. only come if you bring me more gummy worms ]

From: you

[ fine. since you’re sick ] 

You acted like you didn’t care, but you were so worried. What could’ve happened? Why couldn’t he remember? Even when bed ridden, he still managed to get you to fall head over heels. 

That afternoon, you arrive at the hospital, finding Sunghoon playing video games while lying in bed. You chuckled. Even with head bandages and an IV drip, he still managed to be his teenage boyish self. 

“Y/n! Today was so boring. Can we take a walk in the garden, I’m sick of being here.” he asks, to which you reluctantly agreed. 

During your stroll you talked about anything and everything, a common activity you both did. 

“How was school today? Did you miss me?” Sunghoon asks cheekily. 

“I did actually. I didn’t realize how much time I spend with you until today.” you respond. “But, it was okay. I got your gummy worms and some other snacks too. I know you hate hospital food.” 

“Well I missed you too, there was no one but the staff to bother.” He chuckles. “You know, I’m not always going to be around to help you.” 

“I know, but we have time.” 

Before you knew it, the sun was setting and Sunghoon sent you home so you didn’t have to walk alone in the dark. On his walk back to his room, Sunghoon worried. The thing was, you didn’t have time. The fact that you missed him in just a few hours? How would you feel about forever? He never wanted you to have bad days, let alone be the one to cause them. 

Walking through the hallways he trips and falls. Landing on his knees. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t. Why wouldn’t his legs move? He punched his leg. Nothing. Again. It was no use. He had lost feeling in his legs. Tears start pouring out of his eyes. Move, it’s just your leg. Get up. Move. Water droplets fall from his face as he bangs his fist on the floor. Why can’t he move. Eventually he gives up, dragging himself back to his room with his arms. They hurt. His heart hurt. Everything hurt. Was this it?

Tuesday, November 3, 2020

After last night’s events, Sunghoon felt out of it. He wouldn’t be able to go back to school for a while, the nurses claiming that if it happens again the situation can be way worse. He couldn’t skate anymore. He couldn’t see YOU skate anymore. This was it. His illness was getting to him. 

With a knock on the door, Sunghoon falls right out of his daze and watches as you come in with another bag of goodies. 

“I brought you some stuff from the convenience store.” You say, taking out a bottle of green tea and handing it to him. He reaches out to grab it but as soon as you let go the bottle slips out of his hands. 

Ah, so it’s spreading to my arms too, he thinks as he realizes he was too weak to grip the bottle. The doctors told his parents last night that surgery was an option, but it would only give him a little more time, but he wanted to take it. He wanted to be able to skate a little longer. He wanted to make it to the competition. 

“I’m in the mood to watch all the Studio Ghibli movies in one sitting.” Sunghoon says as he leans his head back. 

“Scoot over,” you reply, getting up to sit in his bed with him. “Good thing I brought my laptop.” 

“Are you sure? That’s gonna be like all night.” He asks. 

“Of course, I’m always in the mood for you,” you say as Sunghoon wraps an arm around you, prepared for the whole night of cuddling and movie watching. 

Half way through the marathon you feel Sunghoon nuzzle his face into your neck. His soft snoring tickled you. You bring your hand up to stroke his hair. Park Sunghoon, I am so in love with you, you think.  Your smile. Your eyes. Your lips. Your hair. Your voice. You teasing. The way you say my name. The way you stare at me. The way you talk. The way you smile at me. The way my day isn’t complete without you. I love you. 

Wednesday, November 4, 2020

The next day was supposed to be better. Sunghoon was going to see you and you were gonna get him more gummy worms. Sitting up with him on his bed, you were cuddling, and he seemed to be getting paler and paler by the minute. He seemed really tired, like he was sick to his stomach. 

You got up to go get him a drink from the vending machine, and as you came back nurses and doctors were rushing in and out of your best friend’s room. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of it’s chest and you run to his room. Sunghoon was clutching onto the sides of the bed, doctors scrambling to get the defibrillator going. His heart had stopped.

You’d later learn that he had gone into cardiac arrest, and you watched as the nurses wheeled his bed to the ICU. But the surgery didn’t work, and he didn’t survive. You felt numb. Stretching out a trembling arm, you took hold of Sunghoon’s hand. You shut your eyes and squeezed his palm. It was cold. Your  hand trembled harder with each passing second, as if the movement would cause Sunghoon to wake up. Your face buried into the crook of his neck. You nudged the bridge of your nose against the cool skin. Your lips brushed against his collarbone in desperate search of that familiar warmth. Both hands had clasped around Sunghoon’s, quavering without pause. Devastation weighed down on you. It was a surreal feeling, one that you could never in one million years describe. It squeezed you, threatening to crush you from the inside out. The pain seared itself into your soul, hindering him, rendering him speechless to a point where he no longer knew what words were. A sob wretched its way out from your throat. You tried desperately to hold it in. Tried so hard to keep yourself together, but you knew you were too weak to pull such a bluff. Once the second sob had left you, you felt yourself spiraling. There was no hiding it.

The doctor comes to hand you a letter. Weakly reaching out, you read it right away. You were desperate. You needed to hear something from Sunghoon, anything. 

Dear Y/n,

HI BESTIE, I know I write you one of these every big event, but I’m afraid this might be my last. I’m sorry if you’re getting the before the competition. I desperately wanted to skate with you, but I guess if you’re reading this then my time has come. I hope you’re doing okay. I don’t want you to miss me too much. Please keep skating. I love watching you skate, more than anything. You look so happy, so carefree. I want you to live like that always. It’s a lot to ask, I know, but I don’t want you to associate something you love so much with sadness. I’m with your mom now, and we’re rooting for you. Always. 

I know it was pretty obvious, but I love you. Actually, that’s an understatement. I’m so in love with you that my heart hurts when I’m not with you. I’m in love with you. And I love that I’m in love with you. I love the feelings. The happiness when I think of you, the butterflies when you text me, the excitement I get when I know I’ll get to see you. It’s amazing. And you’re amazing, and I love you. And I’m sorry I had to keep so many secrets. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the competition. I’m sorry for not telling you about my illness. I didn’t want you to carry this burden with me. You’re the light of my life, Y/n. I love you. 

Love, 

your bestie, sunghoon. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Targets - ao3

- Chapter 4 -

Jiang Yanli wasn’t sure her parents had ever agreed on anything, ever, in her life, but they were in complete accord now that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were missing.

Admittedly, that was the only thing they agreed on – that they were missing, not dead, not dead – but it was a good start.

It had all started when that strange woman with the very ordinary face had arrived, she thought. It’d been late when she first arrived, after Jiang Yanli’s parents had stopped receiving audiences; they’d asked her to wait until morning and then got busy and didn’t receive her until nearly midday, even though the woman had been pacing around anxiously in the waiting hall. And then there was a whole lot of arguing before finally they sent out some disciples to go check –

The disciples returned, pale-faced, and reported on what they’d found: a pool with signs of swimming, a spilled but empty lunchbox, and the bodies of seven men, covered in cloaks to suggest an identity as rogue cultivators but wearing Wen sect insignia underneath.

No sign of Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng.

Everything had very quickly gone to shouting after that.

Jiang Yanli was worried, too, of course, but she was only thirteen and a poor cultivator besides, average in every respect – looks, skills, power – and no one ever listened to her; she knew she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t give orders to go search with a solemn expression that she’d never before seen on her father’s face, eyes filled with panic and shoulders bowed with premature grief, the worst result already expected even as he denied the possibility of it; she couldn’t stalk around with so much rage that it felt like the onset of a thunderstorm like her mother, making sure that everyone was doing everything they could. She could only wait patiently by the gate to see if anyone came back.

Maybe it was her patience paying off, or maybe it was just luck, but she was the first one to see the cultivator arrive, late into the night. It wasn’t very ceremonious – he didn’t announce himself or anything, just swooped down with his saber until it was close to the ground, released the bundles he was holding in his arms, took a step forward and then collapsed onto his knees, face pale.

“Da-ge!” four voices shouted, distressed, and two of them were extremely familiar.

Jiang Yanli jumped to her feet and rushed forward, still disbelieving but overwhelmingly joyous. “A-Cheng! A-Xian!”

“Jiejie!” “Shijie!” they shouted, and she was so happy to see them, so happy, but they didn’t seem anywhere near as worried as she’d been; instead, they started talking at the same time. “You have to get someone, he’s used up too much spiritual energy –” “I can’t believe he carried us that far, and back, and after such a long trip, too –” “And a fight! Maybe he got injured?” “Impossible! But we should get a doctor just in case –” “Yes, and soup – shijie, can you make some –”

“Enough,” the cultivator rasped, lifting his hands to his face and rubbing it. He looked exhausted. “Thank you for your concern, all of you. I will see Sect Leader Jiang first.”

“It won’t make for much of a talk if you fall over!” one of the children she didn’t recognize said – the younger one, about her brothers’ ages, face full of baby fat. “Meng-gege, you’re older, tell him –”

The remaining child was about her age, if she had to guess, although he was short and looked gentle.

“Nie-gongzi is right,” he murmured – his accent sounded more Yunmeng than Qinghe, even if the oversized outer layer he was wearing looked more like Qinghe Nie than anything else. It probably belonged to the cultivator that had brought him, judging from the size. “You will not be able to make your case if you are unconscious.”

“I’m fine,” the cultivator insisted, and staggered up to his feet. “There’s no time, there’s still Lanling –”

There was no way this cultivator was flying all the way to Lanling.

“My parents will see you,” she interrupted. “They’ll be very happy to see A-Cheng and A-Xian are all right.”

They were, too, and Jiang Yanli assumed that only pride kept them from running over to grab them into an embrace – Jiang Cheng did run to their mother, and Wei Wuxian followed close behind to go beam at her father – but they were very puzzled to see the cultivator.

“Sect Leader Nie?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, and Jiang Yanli blinked: was that who her brothers’ savior was? “What are you doing here?”

“I received information,” he said. “Regarding the Wen sect –”

“We heard something similar,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said shortly, and glared at her husband.

“Unfortunately, we initially disregarded the warning of our spy,” he admitted. “And then we found the Wen sect cultivators’ bodies…your doing, I take it?”

Sect Leader Nie looked embarrassed for a moment, but then squared his shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “I was flying in to speak with you when I saw the attack taking place, and intervened.”

“They were coming at us with their swords!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “There was one right in front of my face, and then da-ge dropped down from the sky with his saber and – bam! Woosh! Urk!”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Yanli’s mother snapped, though not as harshly as usual. It was almost long-suffering rather than cross. “Have some respect for Sect Leader Nie!”

“It’s fine,” Sect Leader Nie said. “I don’t mind. Are you prepared for invasion?”

“Invasion?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, frowning. “You think –”

“Wen Ruohan had given orders that the sect heirs of all the Great Sects be kidnapped or killed, not to mention your ward here and a few sundry others,” Sect Leader Nie said. “What is that if not a declaration of outright war? Surely he’d know that such a move, if successful, would lead to us all declaring war on him – he must have a next move planned out already.”

Jiang Yanli’s parents exchanged looks.

Sect Leader Nie pretended (badly) not to see it. “I’ve activated defenses in the Unclean Realm,” he said stiffly. “As you know, I’ve always thought…well. At any rate, we’ve made plenty of preparations, and they’re being put into action now. If it would be convenient, I was thinking of sheltering some of the targets there – I’ve already invited the Lan boys – and it would be no difficulty to have yours as well.”

He’d already assumed that they wouldn’t be prepared, Jiang Yanli thought, and saw her parents hear that unspoken message as well. He’d known they wouldn’t take the threat seriously and acted accordingly, and it was only due to his decisiveness that her brothers were still alive.

Her parents looked at each other again, gazes full of meaning.

“Very well,” Jiang Yanli’s father said after a long moment, voice heavy. “I will have to prevail upon your kindness, Sect Leader Nie.”

“Think nothing of it,” Sect Leader Nie said, and then frowned. “My concern is in regard to Lanling Jin...they have closer ties to Qishan Wen than either of us, and may discount the information, especially if it comes from me –”

“I’ll go,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said at once. “Madame Jin is my childhood friend. She will listen to me, provided it’s not already too late.”

Sect Leader Nie’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded. “He may as well come to the Unclean Realm as well,” he said. “Lanling City is large and Jinlin Tower spacious and luxurious, but there are many holes through which a snake might burrow.”

“I’ll bring him,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said. “Yanli can come with me.”

Jiang Yanli looked up, surprised. “Me?”

“You’re an heir, too,” her mother said. “You might not have been on the list, but you’re still at risk, especially if there’s going to be a war – greater risk, even. Anyway, Madame Jin will be more inclined to send her son to a safe place if she thought it was a way to build ties.”

The Jin sect heir was Jiang Yanli’s future fiancé. She supposed it was a good idea to meet him – and at least this way, she’d be going to the Unclean Realm with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, rather than staying behind.

“You should get something warm to wear,” Wei Wuxian advised her. “It’s cold when you fly!”

Jiang Yanli had developed her golden core just this year, right on schedule, so she doubted it, but she appreciated his consideration.

“Really cold,” the child in Nie sect colors said – the smaller one, since the older child, the Yunmeng one, was doing his best impression of a transparent plane of glass. “And we’ve been flying forever – we flew all night to get here from home, you know, and that was before da-ge fought seven Wen sect cultivators. And then we had to fly even more! Someone said something about soup. I want soup!”

“You should rest,” Jiang Yanli’s father said to Sect Leader Nie, abruptly sounding concerned. “Do you or any of yours require a doctor..?”

“Something to eat and some rest will be sufficient,” Sect Leader Nie said, which was probably a lie. “I’ll want to head out first thing in the morning, traveling by flight – I know it’s uncomfortable for the young ones, but I want to be back at my sect as soon as possible. You can send any additional luggage after us by horse.”

There was more talking then - mostly about how crazy Sect Leader Nie was to think he could make such a long flight with so many children, and, when he insisted, making him promise he’d take many breaks along the way - but luckily not much, and then there was saluting and Jiang Yanli was being swept away by her mother to go to Lanling City.

She knew it was wrong to be excited by the prospect of war, but she couldn’t help it. What an adventure!

[tobesobri]

When the Lights Go Out (Halloween fic; 8k)

𝖆/𝖓: first off, happy Halloween yall! This is my second favorite holiday and so I really wanted to get something up in celebration of it! I’ve talked a lot on here about having trouble with writing recently and so I do what I normally do with writer’s block and I just leave what I’m stuck on and go off to write something random, which is what this ended up being. So, my writing style is definitely different and maybe not great, but this is just for fun so I don’t care! I still hope you enjoy! There’s spookiness (not too much), enemies (frenemies) to lovers, pumpkin carving, smut, alcohol consumption, and giant skeletons 💀 (oh and Harry dressed as Tarzan 🥵)

my masterlist  🎃 my askbox

𝕸ost people’s Halloween traditions weren’t too complicated; usually involving cult-favorite scary movies—ranging from Halloweentown to Nightmare on Elm Street—handing out Snickers and Kit-Kats to tiny trick-or-treaters, or just getting wasted at a friend’s haunted house party down the street. Their friend group, on the other hand, opted for a pumpkin carving contest every year on Halloween at Jason Hallow’s house, and, yes, his favorite holiday is Halloween because of his last name. And so, a few years ago when they were all undergrads together, he began hosting the annual carving contest at his house, in which they all paired up and, at the end of the night, whichever pair’s pumpkin came out the best—as judged by Jason, the resident Jack O’ Lantern expert—won whatever candy was leftover. That and marathons of R-rated horror flicks as well as occasional breaks to go out in the neighborhood and scare some of the kids while dressed in terrifying monster masks and slightly drunk off their asses from too much Tennessee whiskey.

Jason’s house was, hands down, the place to be in their neighborhood. Everyone who came by always wanted to join in on their festivities, and one year, they’d been just drunk enough to let a few of-age neighbors join in. This year, though, it was different. The stakes were higher. They were competing not only for the candy, but also for the much envied twelve-foot tall skeleton Jason had found at Home Depot which currently sat in his front yard amongst his other outrageous decorations. The skeleton was definitely the most noteworthy and had been the center of plenty group photos from just about every one of his neighbors since he had brought it home and especially tonight. In fact, every time the doorbell rang and he greeted another group of kids in his gory doctor costume—because Jason was in med school after all—every one of them squealed about how much they liked his skeleton. And so it almost pained him to have to give it to one of his friends after tonight, but if he’s being honest, he has nowhere to store it—he’d purchased it completely on a whim—and next year they will compete for it all over again anyway.

Tonight is also different because Harry and Y/N are not getting along. They all knew this beforehand, but simply brushed it off until they realized it was much worse than anyone had imagined. They had a horrible friendship—if one could even call it that—ever since they’d met as freshmen pre-law students six years ago. Sometimes they got along, but mostly, they bickered non-stop at each other, which all their friends took as misguided flirting. They got along for about six months once, after a drunken hookup, until, of course, Y/N hooked up with someone else and set off the volcano that was their relationship all over again. It had been calm recently with both of them needing each other’s help through their vigorous law school studies. So, a truce had been made and they tolerated each other at best. Tonight, though, the monsters had truly been unleashed and neither one of them had stopped picking at each other since they’d arrived.

It began on the street, when Harry took the spot Y/N had wanted to park in. Then at the door, when he asked her how her midterms were going and she felt like stepping on his toes until she crushed them. Which was perfectly logical since his was barefoot and mostly naked in his stupid Tarzan costume he’d recycled about four times now since they’d all known each other. He only wore it when the weather was warm, as he claimed, but they all had a suspicion he wore it so that he could watch Y/N drooling over him all night.

She wasn’t innocent either, in his defense, at least not this year when she came dressed in a sexy Beetlejuice costume, something none of them ever thought was possible. But she made it happen. She wore a too-short black and white vertical striped t-shirt dress—which had rips in all the right places, particularly across her chest—and a pair of neon green boots that were Doc Marten knock-offs she had found online. Other than that, she had spray painted the front bits of her hair a grey-green color and did her makeup to match the theme, dark purple smokey eyes and a green color used as contour. It looked good, she looked good, not that Harry would ever say that out loud.

Jason’s entire living room and dining room floors were covered with plastic tarps. He’d set up the usual fold-away tables and chairs for everyone. It was an easy clean-up job that wouldn’t leave pumpkin guts smudged into his hardwood floors or, even worse, the beige carpet in his living room. And, as always, he had a line up of various pumpkins on his kitchen counter—and the necessary kit of carving tools—ready to go. They usually didn’t start until nine-thirty or ten, once everyone arrived and had a few drinks in them and they had all agreed on what movies to watch. This year was a marathon of The Conjuring franchise, because Jason had spent way too much money on a box set and he would not be wasting them. Nobody objected anyway because the movies held a sentimental value to all of them. Every year since the beginning when a new movie came out, they all managed to go see it together, and also cause a horrible ruckus in the theater. Although they’d almost been kicked out a couple times, it was still some of the best memories together they’d ever had.

There was also that one year, when Annabelle Creation came out and Y/N and Harry were getting along on account of the LSATs, that they’d secretly gone home together. And then, of course, pretended it never happened.

That had been the second time they slept together, the second time she’d woken in his bed, with Harry’s annoyingly toned arm wrapped all the way around her, and the last as well because Harry got into a serious relationship their first year of law school and that had been the end of things.

Well… not completely the end. At least not until tonight.

“Okay we’re getting started!” Jason announced over both the music and the television, which someone turned down before Jason continued. He stood, wobbling, on one of the foldable chairs, for no other reason than the bottle of vodka in his hand. He was teetering on the edge sobriety and really didn’t give a fuck if he fell off. “Y’all know the drill! Isa’s handing out the cards. No whining. No trading. Or you’ll be disqualified.”

The cards in question were riddles that they had to match up with the answer. Half of them got the riddle card, the other half an answer card and that would determine who their partner was.

Y/N both wanted Harry as her partner and detested the idea at the same time. She was all for it because, well, he was hot dressed in nothing but his small piece of brown loincloth fabric hanging loosely on his hips. But at the same time, she knew they wouldn’t win together and she really wanted that skeleton.

The riddles were all hand-made by Jason on his computer and then laminated in his girlfriend’s school’s teacher lounge however many years ago. They all knew every answer to every riddle by now, but it was still a much more fun way to pair up than picking names out of a hat.

Y/N read her riddle twice, having absolutely no recollection of the answer to it, however—which was probably due to the alcohol she’d consumed herself within the past hour. She wasn’t all to blame, though, Harry had a lot to do with it too. She was still mad at him, for what she wasn’t sure, but she also could not stop herself from stealing glances at him and the only way to stop feeling so many confusing things about Harry was to drown it all away.

She read her riddle one last time: The person who built it sold it. The person who bought it never used it. The person who used it never saw it. What is it?

Her brain felt like mush after the third read and she hoped someone would find her first and give her the answer. She peeked around at people’s cards as they all tried to find their pair, some of them meeting up immediately and getting the prime pick of the pumpkins. It had dwindled down to just a few of them and she finally waltzed herself up to Harry, grabbed his card from his hand without his permission and read it.

In bold, 16-point Helvetica font, it read: A coffin.

Of course.

She rolled her eyes, shoving his card against his stupid bare chest and groaning audibly. “Figures I’m stuck with you.”

When she finally looked up at him, though, she wasn’t all that upset about her odds as she pretended to be. Not with the way his face set into a devilish, wicked, up-to-no-good look that made her want to rip him from the room and rip his useless Tarzan costume off too while she was at it.

He had also been drinking, which was made even more clear when he opened his mouth. “You’ll always be stuck with me.” And then he leaned in a little bit, his smirk widening and his eyes darkening and the sweet smell of vodka on his tongue strengthening, “Forever.”

She hated the buzzing in her stomach he caused, and hated that she liked knowing they probably would, at the very least, know each other for the rest of their lives. It had already been six years since they met and she still hadn’t managed to shake him off. And now they were finishing up law school together and getting offers to work at the same firm together. There would be no escaping him, not that she really wanted to.

The only time she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him was when he had a girlfriend. She hated seeing him in her classes, in her study groups, her circles, at her internship. He was always there, though, rubbing it in her face as she had once done to him. Hers was just a dumb hookup, partially just to spite him, and his was… well he dated the girl for entire year before they broke up and he seemed genuinely heartbroken over it. It had been serious, and Y/N had been seriously miserable the entire time. Even more so when she found out they’d split up and she just about threw a party while Harry moped around campus. She couldn’t help it, though, she’d liked him ever since they met, but then they just sort of… didn’t get along all the time.

She knew he liked her too, at least a little bit, or he’d never have slept with her twice. How much he actually liked her though was still up for debate, and so she chose keeping their weird hate-love relationship over ruining all of it by admitting her feelings for him. Plus, she liked working with him and getting his help on exams and papers too much to ruin that as well.

Y/N grabbed the third to last pumpkin, an unopened carving kit, and led the way to two lonesome chairs. They sat closest to the door, and farthest from the dining room and Jason, in their own little corner where they had enough room to stretch out given that no else had laid any claim on the other side of their table yet.

“So,” Harry began once they were settled and Y/N began opening the kit of tools, “what are we making?”

Before giving him an answer, she laid out all the tools on the table in front of them, next to their poor misshapen pumpkin, and then reached down into the side of her boot and pulled out a black sharpie; she’d learned a couple years back to start brining one. It might have been cheating, sketching her design beforehand, but Jason never outlawed it.

“I’m making Jason’s favorite Tim Burton character and you’re in charge of the guts.” She dictated confidently, slapping the sawing tool and the large orange plastic spoon in front of him so he could get started right away.

He eyed the tools for a moment, then the pumpkin, and then finally her. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing all the shit work while you do the fun stuff.”

“Thought you’d be used to that.” She half-mumbled, but he still heard her over the rest of the noise in the house. And, frankly, she was right. When they had interned together last year, she always handed off the demeaning tasks to him, like getting the coffee or making copies, while she did the much more interesting parts of the job. What she didn’t know was that she didn’t make him do anything. He always did it so she didn’t have to.  

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, arms that her eyes—which were completely out of her control at that point—glued to immediately. He’d been working out ever since the break up and finally filled out the Tarzan costume a lot better. He’d always had a nice body, she knew that, but now… now he made her dizzy.

“I’m not doing it. Least not all by myself.”

She gave up then, mostly because she lost her will to argue against the pout of his lips and the flexing of his biceps—which weren’t ridiculously big, but they were subtle and modest and very much bigger than they had been this time last year when he’d dressed up as a shirtless baseball player. Most all of Harry’s costumes involved some level of nakedness and not much sense, but she didn’t complain too loudly. And his arms were definitely bigger now than they had been the last time she was in his bed and he was over her.

“Fine.” She groaned, grabbing the mini saw tool and then standing to begin carving a hole at the top of their pumpkin, around the stem. She made it big enough for them to be able to stick their hands inside, and then once she was finished, pulled the stem piece off and set it aside for later, chopping off some loose bits of pumpkin shreds first.

Despite his earlier protests, he was the first to dig into the pumpkin, standing as well and going hands first into the thing where he pulled out fistfuls and dumped it into a pile on the table. They went back and forth digging out the insides of the pumpkin until finally, Harry grabbed the spoon and really went in. And she didn’t even bother offering to help, and instead stared, again, at his stupid biceps and especially at his hands, which were slick from the pumpkin juice. She shuddered remembering where his hands had once been, and then pulled herself together remembering how long ago it had been and how very little interest he’d shown in picking up where they’d left off pre-girlfriend.

Once the pumpkin was fully gutted, they both sat again, and cleaned their hands off on the paper towels Jason had set up on each table.

She was the first to begin the process, sketching out the design with her sharpie of Oogie Boogie from The Nightmare Before Christmas. She’d carved the character before, but still needed a reference picture on her phone to get all the details right. And Harry watched her the entire time, memorizing her face for the millionth time while she concentrated, and sometimes he stared at her hands, too, hands he also found himself reminiscing over, to the point of needing to cross his legs so it wasn’t made visibly clear what he was thinking about. He was starting to regret recycling the Tarzan costume.

While they all worked, Jason answered the door and handed out candy about once every five minutes. The best part of their tradition wasn’t the pumpkin carving itself, but rather, the atmosphere. They loved the feeling, the adrenaline rush of it all. How messy everything would eventually get, how loud they all were. The anguished shouting when someone messed something up. The sounds of Thriller playing in the background mixed with the loud jump scares from the horror movies played all night long. It was heaven to any lover of Halloween (and they all loved Halloween).

She’d let Harry start the carving of the design, informing him what parts were staying and what parts needed to be cut away, before she ventured into the kitchen to grab them both a drink. On her way back, she paused for a moment, just watching Harry work over in their corner. The sight of him almost made her want to finally admit how she felt. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if he rejected her, at least then she’d know.

But then Zoe plopped down into her empty chair next to Harry and crushed everything back down like an aluminum can being recycled. She tossed back about half of her Smirnoff after Zoe had scooted closer to Harry and grazed her fingertips across his arm—the one he wasn’t using the carve the pumpkin. And at first, he ignored it, but then he set down the tool, pushed his hair back with his clean wrist and offered Zoe one of his annoying little smirks that Y/N always thought he saved just for her. But now, seeing him use it to flirt with Zoe, she felt stupid and betrayed. And stupid again for feeling betrayed.

She had no claim to him. She just had her memories, as inconvenient as they were at times. But that was nothing and it’d been so long that he showed any interest in her, in anybody, that for her to be jealous now was just pure selfishness. As much as she hated Harry sometimes, she still wanted to see him happy again.

Y/N made her way back slowly, eying what others were doing, until finally joining Harry again just as Zoe went back to her own pumpkin.

She was quiet for a moment, sipping on her drink, watching him as he got back to carving, before cleaning her throat as she finally said something, “What did Zoe want?” And she tried not to sound anything other than curious, but the way Harry glanced at her, with a raised brow, she knew she needed to be so much more subtle.

He took the other cup from her that she hadn’t drunk from and replenished his blood alcohol level. “She just asked me what I was doing after this.”

Instead of opening her mouth and being obvious, she just set her drink down and grabbed both the carving tool and the pumpkin from Harry to take over. He’d already done way more work than she had, so it was about time they switched anyway.

He eyed her curiously still, even though he allowed her to continue where he left off as he leaned back in his chair and took a break, downing what was left in his cup as she worked.

“You’re not jealous are you?” He finally asked, after a few moments to let his brain marinate in the alcohol in order to brave that question in the first place.

“No.” It was sharp. A piercing rejection he felt dig its claws deep into his heart. He couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but if not, it hurt. More than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He wanted her to be jealous. He always did. That was part of the reason he’d gotten a girlfriend. And of course she was also part of the reason they broke up, if not all of it.

He nodded, “So it wouldn’t bother you if I went home with Zoe?”

He noticed her brief hesitation, when her hand stopped moving and she took in a breath of air, but then she settled again. “Doesn’t bother me what you do, Harry.”

Again, he nodded, still watching her just to get a sense of her reactions. Of course he had no plans on going home with Zoe. He just wanted to know. Where they stood. How Y/N felt about him. Whether she thought about their nights together as often as he did. When they were studying together and she’d shift her hair behind her shoulder and he’d get a whiff of her shampoo and be taken right back to one of those nights, and the nights that came after that when he got lost in that scent on his pillows until it eventually dissipated and left him craving more.

He tried again. One last time. If he still didn’t get the response he was hoping for, then he’d give it up and leave her alone. So, he sat forward, crossing his arms on top of the table, close enough to her now that the buzzing in her stomach reappeared even though she never braved a single glance at him. He was close enough that the smell of his cologne overtook the odor from the pumpkin. Close enough that she felt his breath on the side of her face when he spoke.

“So, I’ve just been imagining the way you’ve been looking at me all night then?” His voice was just above a whisper, and soft, caressing her ears as the sound crept its way inside of her. As it seeped into all the places the alcohol had been, although Harry was always something way more potent than whiskey or tequila. He made her head spin, made her feel everything and nothing at the same time. Made her heart flutter so much at times it hurt.

His words sunk in and all her motions stopped as she froze in place. She stopped carving their pumpkin, stopped blinking, stopped breathing. Staring blankly at their half-finished design until he was wrung out from her system completely. That never really happened, though, because he was staring at her, watching her with those glinting, impatient eyes, waiting for an answer. There wasn’t even the familiar hint of a smirk or a bit of amusement on his face anymore, either, that might have calmed her nerves. Because at least if he seemed to just be messing with her, she could play that game with him, but this was different.

He leaned forward a bit, trying to get her to look at him, to say something, anything, really. He’d be satisfied enough with her lies at this point. But he also knew the absence of an answer alone was all he really needed. He didn’t feel like he was getting ahead of himself, seeing the way her body reacted to him, by assuming that she felt, at least somewhat, the same way he did about her. Because if she’d been the one to ask if she was imagining how he’d been staring at her all night, he wouldn’t deny it.

Just as she opened her mouth, just as she had gathered enough words to form a coherent sentence, the room went dark. Pitch black, actually. The lights all around them flickering off, the television going blank, the music cutting out. And once the startled gasps and dramatic, drunken yelling had subsided, they were left in a ringing silence, so completely opposite to what they had been moments ago that it was painful for their ears to adjust to.

“What the fuck?” They heard Jason’s voice in the darkness and then, finally, a bit of light as he turned his phone’s flashlight on.

“Did the power go out everywhere?” Someone else asked.

And while everyone panicked, all Harry cared and thought about was Y/N’s hand wrapped tightly around his own on his lap. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d grabbed for him, but once he realized she was there, he didn’t really care too much about the lights anymore. What he did care about still, however, was whether she’d ever answer his question now. If he’d ever get to hear what she was about to say just before the darkness cut her off.

A few of them stumbled about, making plans to go outside and check on things while everyone else stayed inside and waited. The room went dark for a few more moments as Jason left, but then someone else turned their flashlight on, and shined them at the ceiling so that there was at least enough light so that they didn’t have to sit in complete darkness.

If it wasn’t Halloween, the power going out wouldn’t have bothered her so much. Outages happened happened all the time. But now, in the middle of the second Annabelle movie with all sorts of other spooky shit around them, she couldn’t help but be terrified and imagine the worst. Like… what if there was a killer on the loose who had cut their power. What if the killer was chopping up Jason and the others and then eventually heading inside to do the same to all of them?

“Hey,” Harry mumbled beside her, inching closer and rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, realizing she’d grown tense when her grip on him had tightened. “You alright?”

Hearing his voice again, she let out a breath of air and tried to relax. She watched way too many scary movies and this was most definitely not one of them. Just a power outage, possibly due to everyone being home and using lots of extra electricity on their lights and decorations. She had no reason to panic. Although it could be blamed on Harry as well, if he hadn’t made her an astronomical amount of nervous just before.

She nodded until she realized Harry couldn’t even see her very well. “I’m fine.” She finally affirmed, and, to his dismay, took her hand away from his.

They sat in their own silence for a while, listening to the quiet conversations around them, particularly to Zoe and Julie who were trying to look up any information they could even though their phones were slow from the lack of Wi-Fi and service.

After a little while, she found his hand again in the dark, and this time, she wasn’t afraid from the power going out, but rather what she was about to say. Because if there was ever an opportunity to spill your guts to Harry Styles, it was in a dark room where his grassy green eyes weren’t all over you, sucking every ounce of courage from your bones.

Her voice was in a whisper, and she finally looked at him, or rather in his direction. To the outlines of his face, of his nose and his cheekbones. Even though she couldn’t find the green, she knew he was there, waiting, listening.

“You haven’t been imagining anything.”

She couldn’t quite see it, but his eyebrows had hit the ceiling and before he could question her further, she continued.

“I was miserable when you were seeing Liv and so fucking happy when you broke up.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t let that stop her, “And then miserable again because you didn’t want me. And maybe you still don’t, but it would really bother me if you went home with someone else.”

The quiet almost ate her alive for the next few seconds when he said nothing and she didn’t have his features to go off of. But then, she felt him getting closer until, finally, his lips were at her ear.

“I’ve always wanted you.”  

The buzzing was back but this time it was debilitating. Especially when he faced her and cupped his free hand along her jaw. And especially when he tilted her head back slightly to meet his lips, which had pretty good aim given their predicament. She missed the way he felt, she realized, once he was kissing her. Once he had scooted closer and released his hand from her grip on his lap. Once he grabbed up the other side of her face and pulled her closer. And then her hand was left to fend for itself on his thigh, and she, almost unconsciously, drifted her touch closer and closer and closer…

He moaned softly into her mouth when she toyed with the flimsy piece of fabric tied around his waist with her fingertips. And finally, she pulled apart from him, catching her breath before whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we left?”

He shook his head, “Don’t think I care if they did.”

And so they were off. Trying not to draw too much attention to themselves even though she slightly tripped over the leg of the chair and he tried not to giggle too loudly while helping her. His hand fell into hers again as he led the way out of the living room, down the hall and into Jason’s guest room, closing them both off from any light source completely, not that they really cared too much about seeing each other; they just wanted to feel each other again.

And as soon as Harry had closed the door behind her, that’s exactly what they did. As she wrapped her arms around his neck; as he felt his way around her waist, he kissed her like he hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Like he was a dry, cracking desert and she was a vast river flowing through him.

He took brave steps towards the bed blindly, backing her up further into the dark room and managing to not trip over anything when he finally made it to the bed. They’d both, on separate occasions, spent the night in Jason’s guest room before, which helped when maneuvering around in the dark. For instance, Harry knew that Jason kept his secret stash of condoms in the bedside drawer. Harry had no idea why, but he was thankful for it right now, when, after laying her back on the bed, Y/N had already begun undoing his costume—with such quickness, he was sure she’d studied how the thing was connected to his body so that she knew exactly how to get if off if need be—and, within the next few seconds, tossed the flimsy Tarzan loincloth out of sight.

Which left him in just the black thong he wore underneath. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have even bothered with it. But, when he had first gotten the costume and tried it on without anything, he imagined all the wardrobe slips and potential boners might not be in everyone’s best interests. So, he went out and bought the smallest pair of underwear he’d ever owned, tucked himself inside of them, and called it a day.

Those, too, were stripped from his body in a matter of seconds, or at least pushed down his thighs to where they no longer covered what they were intended to cover. But then she flipped them around, so that Harry was on his back this time, splayed across the bed and she was finally ridding him of the thong all together and not wasting any time getting her hands on him and he wondered, with how quick she was to get to this point, if she had been thinking about this all night. And if she had, then he would definitely have to whip out the Tarzan costume more often.

He seemed to sink into the mattress once he felt her mouth close on him, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth hanging open involuntarily when he hit the back of her throat. He had no idea how he’d gone so long without her, or why either. Why had he been so stupid? Why did he let her think he didn’t want her? Why did he deprive the both of them of this? Of the way she felt circling her tongue around the tip of his cock, the way he knew she was looking at him even though he could physically not open his eyes or come down off his cloud long enough to tell her how good she felt. How much he missed it. How much he was probably in love with her, even if that might have been crossing some sort of line.

“Forgot how big you were,” she whispered, giggling almost shamefully after wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and giving him a break to actually breathe properly again.

“Think we both know that’s a lie.” He was out of breath already and he was right, although she wouldn’t feed his ego no matter what he said. Although she remembered his cock perfectly fine, she wasn’t exactly used to it. And maybe she had momentarily forgotten what he had hidden under his costume. It’d been two years since they slept together, and the first time it happened they’d been drunk.

She didn’t say anything else, just tried to hide the blush on her face—even though he couldn’t’ see it anyway—by taking a mouthful of him again. She didn’t let him come, though, of course, and he didn’t expect her to either. She never had before. She always led him get right to the edge, to where he was panting and writhing and digging his fingers into her hair, on the verge of screaming her name into the dark, and then she’d stop. Pull him from the back of her throat and leave him a sopping, moaning mess.

He’d somewhat recovered when she crawled on top of him and and sat on either side of his hips with her hands planted on his chest. And now that their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see the curve of his lips as he smiled up at her and even the sinister little twist of his mouth just before he grabbed hold of the hem of her dress and ripped it off over her head, letting it fall onto the bed next to him. He wished they had just a little bit more light, but at the same time, it turned him on having to see with his hands instead. Having to reach up and cup her breasts in his palms and rely on his memories for a better visual than the one he currently had. And as she came down to kiss him again, there was one thing for sure he didn’t need any light or anything but his fingers to do.

He tossed her bra into the same vicinity as her dress and within seconds had his hands all over her again, and his tongue as well, wishing she was on her back so he could worship her in all the ways he desperately wanted to, but also aware that the power could flick on at any moment and he really didn’t have the time.

Not that she had asked, and maybe she just hadn’t thought of it yet, but he still, while continuing to make out with her, reached over, pulled the drawer open on the nightstand and reached inside to locate the box of condoms.

However, once he did, and he didn’t find what he was looking for, he sat up and pulled apart from her, twisting himself a bit in order to see inside the drawer. His other hand held onto her hips so she didn’t fall off of him as he searched the drawer. But, soon enough, he was laying back again, groaning as if he was in physical pain.

“There’s no condoms.” He muttered between his teeth and just that one little sentence ruined his entire night.

“It’s okay.” She assured, continuing to whisper just as he did so that no one would hear them through the thin walls. “I mean… we’re clean right? And I’m on birth control…”

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at her and trying to decide if it was a good idea or not. She was right, of course, but even so there was always a possibility. Even with condoms there was always that same possibility too. He knew one thing for certain. If he remembered correctly. There was absolutely no way in hell he’d be able to pull out, so that really wouldn’t even be an option either.

“If you don’t want to though, that’s fine.” She spoke again amongst his silence. It’s not like he would hate the potential consequences, and of course he would not hate feeling her without a stitch of anything in between them, he just needed to be reassured that’s what she wanted, truly.

“I do, just um… are you sure you’re okay with that?”

She nodded first and then, confidently, “Yes.” As she fell back into place over him, her lips came to his ear this time, “I want to feel you coming inside of me.”

His whole body shuddered, needing her more than he quite possibly ever had. And as she tucked her panties to the side and guided herself onto him, he would most definitely go outside and cut the lines himself if the power decided to come back on before they were finished.

“Forgot how wet you are…” He whispered, heart fluttering at the way she laughed while fucking him. He never forgot either, not quite. But feeling her again now, pooling around him, warm and snug, he again wondered why in the living hell he kept himself from her for so long. Sure, they didn’t like each other most of the time, but their first time together had been hot, drunk hate sex and ever since then he’d chased that feeling with other people, none of them ever quite adding up to her. He wondered if she thought the same. No one ever making her feel the way he did either. If, when she was with someone else, she thought of him instead.

He knew he wouldn’t last long the second she put her greedy hands on him, and so her being in control now was slightly dangerous. He wasn’t ready for it to be over, even if he was racing the clock, even if he could just take her home from here and do it all over again, properly. He didn’t want it to end as quickly as it started.

So, he flipped them back over, getting her on her back like he’d wanted to earlier. Slipping a pillow under her backside to get a better angle and letting her sink all the way through the mattress this time. He remained inside her the entire time, only making quick, shallow movements to avoid the sounds of their skin slapping against each other. But he gave up being careful about their noise level after she begged him to go faster, after he reached between them and rubbed his fingers over her clit to catch her up with him.

She tugged at his hair while he kissed her, breathlessly and without much of a second thought this time about how loud they were being. He assumed all their friends knew about them anyway, even if she chose to be ignorant to it. They all speculated about the secret hookups and the mindless flirting that was disguised as harmless bickering. So, he just stopped caring the closer and closer he got.

That was until he buried himself as far as he could inside of her, his hand wrapped around her throat the way he remembered her liking, and he felt the scream building beneath her skin, beneath his palm. Quickly, before her noises led to everyone barreling into the room to find out what was going on, he clasped his hand from her throat to her mouth instead. Holding tightly as she let it out, his eyes pouring into hers like a lake of shining emerald waters getting her to stay there in the room with him. So that she didn’t close her eyes and float away like he had before.

He titled her head to the side, kissed up her jaw to her ear. “Mm, I missed the way you sound.” He wanted to tell her how he thought about her pleads and her moans and her yells late at night when he was feeling particularly alone. When he wanted nothing but her, to either be inside of her, or to just have her there next to him. But all of that got caught in his throat, and instead, as he continued burying himself into her, he whispered like a growl in her ear, “Missed how well you take me.”

And although it made her moan, made her eyes cross and her fingernails scrape across his shoulder blades, he wanted to tell her that he missed how they fit together. How where he ended she began so seamlessly no one else could hardly compare. There had always been a seam with everyone else, with Liv, a visible divide between him and them, soldered together haphazardly. But with Y/N, it was smooth, flowing together as if they were the same person.

His hand slipped from her mouth as he began losing control, and soon she was the one having to cover the noises. Though, this time, she just simply pulled his lips to her own and felt all the vibrations escape from his throat against her skin, her teeth, her tongue. She breathed in nothing but the air from his lungs, and held onto his tightly as she began to unravel.

His moans quickened and quickened until she felt his release, warm and deep inside of her, just as her own gave way, until his body began to give out, until he was panting and no longer able to hold himself up over her. And so once they both descended from their cloud, once their wave had crashed onto the shore, he planted himself beside her, their chests in rhythm as they cough their breath.

And before either of them even managed to open their eyes or breathe steadily again, the surge of the power coming back on dimmed the haze. Their room was still dark, but light seeped under the door and the rest of their friends cheered from the other room as the music began again. And for a brief, stupid moment, Harry thought about fucking her again and letting her scream all she wanted, but that fantasy was cut short when he remembered their friends would soon realize they were missing.

“We should get back.” She mumbled. Although she made no sudden movements to get up. She even closed her eyes again, still off in another world.

And so Harry risked it, just for a few more moments, anyway, where he rolled closer to her and slid his hand up her jaw softly, pulling her attention toward him again as her eyes fluttered open, waiting.

“I was miserable when I was with Liv too. And we broke up because she knew I spent all my time thinking about someone else.” He swiped his thumb across her cheek, realizing for the first time that he’d probably royally fucked up all her makeup and then hoping she wouldn’t come to her senses and kill him for it.

“And who might that be?”

He smiled, sweetly this time unlike all his asshole smiles, and just as he glanced at her lips, ready to kiss her again, he was cut short.

“Yo, where are Harry and Y/N?” It was Jason, loud and clear and possibly headed their way to investigate his missing party guests who had snuck off together in the dark. Jason didn’t know that yet though, and as much as Harry would like none of their friends to find out, it wouldn’t exactly look great the two of them waltzing out of the guest room together. Harry’s curls in shambles, fresh scratches all across his back, and Y/N’s makeup smudged. There was simply no use in hiding what they’d been up to, it was written all over them.

Harry grabbed her clothes and handed them off while he went on a search for his own tiny pieces of costume. And just as they got decent again, there was a knock on the door.

“You guys in there? You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” Jason warned and Harry and Y/n looked at each other for a moment before busting out laughing.

Harry got to the door first, throwing it open to a very surprised Jason, who then narrowed his eyes when he saw Y/N come up behind Harry.

“God, not in my guest room!” He whined as Harry pushed pass Jason, a looking Y/N following shortly behind, “Now I have to clean the sheets again! I just did them yesterday.”

“Sorry, mate!” Harry called over his shoulder, glancing down at Y/N quickly to give her one of his cocky little winks. And once they had reached the main room again, as he fell back into his chair, she realized just how many scratch marks she’d left on him, and wished he’d worn a costume with a shirt to cover it up.

She drowned out all the whistling and the comments about how everyone knew she and Harry were up to something, about the bets won and lost. All she heard was Harry’s voice in her ear, telling her how much he missed her and she wondered if it was real. If he really did miss her, or he just missed fucking her. If, when it was no longer October 31st, they’d just go back to normal. Like the horse-drawn carriage turning back into a lumpy, ugly pumpkin.

Harry noticed this, of course, because he’s a law student and notices everything, but just as he leaned in to ask if she was okay, she pulled away.

“I just, uh, need some air.” And then she was gone before he could do or say anything. She used through the front door, abandoning their poor pumpkin and headed toward her car. She’d left the keys and her purse inside, but it didn’t matter. She just leaned against the passenger door and gazed up at the stars, thankful for the clear night and warm weather.  

And, of course, he was beside her not too long afterwards. She’d heard his footsteps against the pavement, knew he’d probably follow her out anyway.

He cleared his throat, half watching the same stars she was and half glancing at her. “Did I do something?”

“No, it’s um…” she faltered, her eyes falling to her feet. “Think I just had too much to drink.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I—” she cut him off before he got too far in the wrong direction.

“No, I mean…” she pushed off her car then and faced him, “Are we just going to go back to how we always are after tonight? Because I don’t know if I can do that. But I never know what you’re thinking, Harry. Do you even like me or do you just like sleeping with me sometimes and arguing with me all the rest of the time?”

He continued to watch her for a moment, almost waiting for her to tell him she was kidding. But when she just ran a nervous hand through her colored hair, he realized she wasn’t.

He waited for a group of kids all dressed in various Star Wars outfits to pass by them before he began. “I guess I thought I was clear, but obviously not enough… I don’t just want to sleep with you every couple of years and pretend we don’t like each other in between. I think we’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you?”

She nodded once his words sunk in.

“Can we go finish our pumpkin now? And win the stupid skeleton. So I can take both it and you home with me?”

Again, she nodded, but this time it was matched with a smile. “Who says I want to go home with you?”

He rolled his eyes and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close enough to kiss the top of her head as he steered them back toward the front door. “Guess it’ll just be me and the skeleton then.”

They both glanced over at the giant thing stuck in the middle of Jason’s front yard, still attracting every young person like it was a princess at Disneyland, and then she looked up at him again. “On second thought, I might like to see that.”

He shook his head, opening the front door for them, “M’sure you would.”

[firewoodfigs]

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

                                       +++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows  he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter Eighteen

Amoreena Chapter Eighteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: hospital visits, fainting, IV's and ultrasounds!

word count: 5k

from the beginning <3

Y/N heads off to work at 8 on Wednesday, sick and miserable but it's her job. Leaving Spencer with the girls. “So, what are our plans for today?”

“We need to pick up some paint samples so we can pick for my room,” Jo replies, shovelling waffles into her mouth right after with syrup dripping down her chin.

Spencer passes her a napkin with a smile, “do you guys want to go visit my friend Penelope? She’s really good with aesthetics, as she calls them, she’ll be able to help the best.”

“She’s the one you told me about?”

Spencer nods, “yeah, I’m just going to call and see if she’s free today. Put your dishes in the dishwasher after, your mom doesn’t need to come home from work to do the sticky dishes okay?”

“Yes sir,” they both groan, jokingly, smiling at each other as they do so.

He runs up to his bedroom then, sitting on his side of the bed and taking his phone out of his pocket. He dials Luke’s number instead, knowing she’d kill him if she’s still asleep while he’s calling her.

“Hey man!” Luke answers, cheerful and very awake. “How’s the new kid?”

“Jo’s great, she’s settling in really well,” He smiles, news travelled fast in the BAU, “I actually want to introduce her to Penelope, is she awake and willing to take visitors this early?”

“Um,” he can hear Luke’s panic through the phone, “you know, here she’s beside me, she can tell you.”

“Hello, Spencer,” Penelope’s voice carries down the line and invoking a smile on Spencer’s face. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to introduce you to Josephine today, are you busy?”

“We have a doctor's appointment to go to in 10 minutes, but we’ll be home around 10:30?”

His brain stalls, malfunctioning a small amount at why Luke would be going to the doctors with Penelope. “You can’t be pregnant too, me you and Derek can’t all have kids the same age.”

“Savannah’s pregnant too?!” Penelope screams down the line, “holy shit.”

“Penelope!” Spencer shouts, “are you kidding me?”

“No, we were going to tell you soon, when you made that wine comment a few weeks ago I knew she was pregnant because I am too,” Penelope’s voice is so soft he knows she’s smiling on the other side.

She always wanted kids, that’s why she spoiled Henry and Hank so much, they were like her honorary babies until she was in the right place to have kids of her own. She has told Spencer time and time again how much she wants a family, how badly she wanted one but couldn’t find the perfect partner… then she met Luke.

“Put Luke back on,” Spencer sounds sterner than he means to, Penelope puts him on speaker instead.

“Are we going to have the father-to-son chat?” Luke teases him through the phone.

“I just wanted to thank you, this is going to be a really cool experience,” Spencer feels incredibly emotional at the thought of all 3 of their kid's meeting and being best friends.

“You just bumped Spencer to the top of my suggestions list,” Luke jokes in response, not able to handle the sappiness this early in the morning. “Thanks, man, So Derek’s going to be a dad again too?”

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” Spencer feels a bit like an idiot, “I don’t know how far along they are so just keep it a secret for now.”

“She’ll probably tell me when I tell her,” Penelope rationalized it, “it’s fine, Spence, all of us are having babies it’s a good secret to spill.”

“When are you due?”

“January 29th,” Penelope smiles, “you?”

“Y/N doesn’t know for sure, but she’s thinking it’s February 20th, if she got her math right,” Spencer confirms with a smile, “we have a doctor's appointment to see the little one in 2 weeks.”

“We find out if it’s a boy or girl today,” Luke added, and he can hear Penelope smack him.

“We’re not finding out! I want it to be a surprise!”

“I’m going to find out, I’m going to stare that sonogram down till I see a pee-pee or not,” Luke bickered back. Making her furious on purpose, like always.

“Good luck with that, it’s a blob and you’re a dork,” she fought right back, probably even more feisty now that she was pregnant.

That made Spencer just shake his head, he couldn’t even picture it. It was insane when Haley got pregnant and Hotch became a dad, he was so shocked when JJ got pregnant and her small body was able to do it. He’ll never forget seeing Derek become a father, it was way too eventful not to. But this, he never thought he’d see it.

She probably felt the same with him.

“We’ve got to go in now Spence, but we can pick up some brunch and meet you at ours around 11?” Penelope cut into his awkward silence, “you can see the ultrasound and be the first to know.”

“Sounds good, I’m really happy for you, Penny,” Spencer added with a smile. “Bye.”

“Bye!”

After he hangs up he shoots a text over to Y/N, “taking the girls to Penelope’s house, is there an extra booster seat for Amoreena anywhere?” And slides his phone back into his pocket.

Down the stairs, Jo and Amoreena are doing the dishes instead of just placing them in the dishwasher. Amoreena is on a stool, washing the plates as Jo dries and is able to reach the cabinets better to put them away. They don’t even know he’s there watching as they pass plates back and forth.

Then Amoreena jumps off the stool as the water drains, finally turning around to see her dad, “all clean! Mom shouldn’t have to do anything while she’s making a baby.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling, his girls were so perfectly kind and caring. It was like he won the genetic lottery being blessed with them.

“She’d really appreciate us keeping the house clean for the next few months,” Spencer agreed. “Are you guys excited or nervous about the baby?”

They both shrugged and moved in closer to the counter, resting against it as they thought it over. He pressed his lips together awkwardly as he waited, “I’m really nervous.” He announced, watching their faces turn to worry.

“Why?” Jo asked, “You’re really good at being a dad.”

“I haven’t done it from the beginning yet,” he’s open and honest with them, letting them know he doesn’t always have every answer but he’s brave enough to try.

“If anything,” Amoreena’s smart little mind gets to work, “because you’ve been so amazing without really knowing us, I can imagine Elly will love you the most because she’ll know you the longest.”

“Elly?” Spencer smiles, remembering how serious they all are about the next kid is a girl too.

Amoreena nodded, “she has the choice of 3 nicknames, Elly, Leo or Nora…” She’s clearly thought it all through.

“You know, I was thinking we should get something for Y/N and the baby, do you guys want to go to the store before we go see aunty Penny?”

They both nod enthusiastically, “can we go get changed first?” Amoreena asks, “I want to wear something nice.”

It makes him laugh, “of course, hey, before you go do you know where any more booster seats are for you?”

She bites her lip to think, “hmm, I think there’s one in poppy’s truck?”

“Okay, you go get ready, I’ll go talk to poppy,” Spencer replies, and before he can even turn around both of them are running up the creaky, loud, wooden steps and into their rooms.

He’s already in jeans and a plaid shirt from feeding the chickens that morning, adding just his running shoes and Grandpa’s hat, it was basically his now. He loved it, it felt right, it made Y/N and Amoreena smile when he wore it, and it completed the look of stay-at-home Farm Dad.

He walked right into Y/N’s parent's house, pulling back the screen door before walking, “knock, knock,” he says, smiling as he sees Linda rounding the corner from the kitchen.

“Spencer!” She cheers, wiping her hands off on her apron before pulling him into a hug. “How are your girls?”

“Good,” he smiles again, holding her close quickly before letting her go again. “I’m taking them to a friend's house, does Amoreena have a booster seat here?” He asks for the 3rd time that morning, not wanting to drive her anywhere unless she’s perfectly secured.

“Bob’s got one in the truck, leave your keys here in case he has to go anywhere and just take the truck, it’s easier than taking the seat out and putting it back in,” Linda problem-solved like it was her job.

“Okay,” he places his keys in her hand.

“Bob’s are on the wall by the door, have fun today!” Linda waved him off, “oh, and tell Y/N congratulations.”

“Oh, thanks,” he smiled, “the wedding was really fun.”

He’s just taking the keys off the wall and opening the door again when he hears her small laughter, “I meant on the baby.”

He turns quickly, “how did you know?”

Linda shakes her head, “there are 3 cases of ginger ale in the fridge and 8 empty boxes of saltine crackers in the recycling.”

He turns pink, embarrassed for some reason as if Linda didn’t know he was sleeping with her daughter. He nods with a press-lipped smile. “She didn’t want to tell anyone till the ultrasound.”

“I understand,” Linda smiled. “I’m ready to talk to her when she is, let her know that.”

“I will,” he smiled one last time, “see you later!”

And they were off.

—

He’s in a big red farm truck, wearing a farm hat and plaid while listening to Taylor Swift with his daughters.

He can’t help but shake his head at the insanity, agreeing with Taylor’s current lyric that’s being burned into his head, “fever dream high in the quiet of the night you know that I caught it!”

Amoreena and Jo are in the back, singing together as they share what songs are their favourites. It’s surreal, every single moment is, if it wasn’t for how badly it made his heartache to see them so happy he’d think it was all a dream.

The girls are very adamant about going to TJMaxx for a present for Y/N, saying it’s the best place to find nice things for a good price. Spencer would spend a million dollars on her if he could, but this was a group decision, and there were 2 of them now, so he never won anymore.

They get a decent parking space, getting out together they look insane. Spencer is a walking talking Woody from Toy Story at this point, Jo’s in all black and combat boots and Amoreena is a princess… it was an interesting group, to say the least.

They get a cart, pushing it up and down the aisles as they find a million and 1 cute things for Y/N. Everything from paintings to towels, maternity clothes and baby toys, makeup brushes and scarves… they were having the hardest time finding the best thing to get for them.

Spencer turned down the final aisle in the back corner, seeing a bunch of headboards and chairs, and a small little bassinet. It’s whicker and woven beautifully, light wood and a fluffy white inside. It’s soft, well made, and incredibly cute.

“Mom gave my crib to Aunt Ashely, she might like this!” Amoreena cheered, leaning over it to show that she was the perfect height to see inside of it too.

“I’m going to get it,” Spencer announces, “it’ll look nice in our room, and it’s good for the first few months while she’s really dependent on your mom.”

They were all on team girl now, Spencer and his little women just made the most sense. He couldn’t see anyone other than all his girls in his mind when he thought of the future, and he’s had enough time with boys anyway. Hank and Henry would always hold a special place in his heart.

The girls each wanted t pick something out for the baby, heading right for the girl section of the baby aisle. “Now, you have to remember that they’ll be very tiny in the winter, and around 6 months in the summer.”

Everything was actually decently priced like the girls said it would be, so Spencer went a bit overboard. It was his first baby too, he was allowed to spoil it. He stocked up on bib rags, swaddle blankets, pacifiers and cute little hats. Jo and Amoreena on the other handpicked out the cutest little winter coat. It would be perfect for the Virginia winter, a big brown bear coat that zipped up like a sleeping bag. She’s going to be so cozy.

Bringing everything to the cashier was fun, she could see they were all related and smiled, “another brother or sister on the way?”

Jo and Amoreena smiled, “in February,” Jo was the one to answer with a wide smile.

“Congrats!” She smiles as she rings everything through, bagging it all while Spencer pays and the girls take it all to the truck.

“Wait, so will I ever meet my other brother and sister?” Amoreena asks as they’re filling the bed of the truck with what they bought, completely out of the blue.

“Not for a while, Jo kinda broke the rules to find me and figured out who they are, but they can’t know till they’re 18,” Spencer explained.

She turns to Jo with a look of worry, “was my name on there?”

Jo nods enthusiastically, “oh yeah! You’re baby number 3! It goes me, Alice, you and then Dylan is the youngest.”

Amoreena starts to cry, it's soft at first as she goes silent and then she’s heaving as she thinks about it more. She throws herself into Spencer’s arms and he’s so confused. Shushing her as he rubs her back gently, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I knew it,” is all she can say. Holding him closer than before. “You were too great to just be my dad.”

Jo places her hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “she’s right.”

“You guys are the amazing ones,” he says softly. “Come on, let’s get in the truck and go see Aunt Penny, she has a surprise.”

Amoreena sighed as she pulled back, “I don’t think I can handle anything more.”

It makes him laugh, “it’s a simple one, I promise.”

—

Jo loves Penelope. They instantly click, discussing exactly how she hacked the Sperm bank in all the technical terms which ended up sounding like gibberish to Spencer. She was incredibly smart and very interested in the computer programming field. Penelope offered to take her under her wing.

Amoreena, however, fell head over heels in love with Luke. He was nice to her at the barbecue because he’s Luke and he doesn’t know how to be anything but nice, and she thought he looked like Prince Naveen from the princess and the frog… which just so happened to be her favourite and suddenly Spencer understood why she was in a green princess dress today.

It was adorable, she looked up at him like he was an actual prince with big brown doe eyes as she listened to him talk about all the knightly battles he’s been on recently. She was enamoured, having her first little kid crush on her Aunt’s boyfriend.

Spencer was holding Penelope’s sonogram in his hands, alone on the couch as his kids were deep in conversation with his friends. It was really cool, that’s all he could think. Himself, Derek and Penelope were going to have 3 kids all around the same age.

3 little people who got to grow up with a bond and friendship just as strong as theirs. Each of them having 2 best friends, 2 protectors, it was going to be amazing. He can see it now, a confident little Garcia, a feisty little Morgan and a shy yet chatty little Reid baby all together on the playground. What a nightmare for their poor teacher.

Y/N still hasn’t texted him back from this morning, yet she’s calling him now at 1 pm as they’re getting ready to leave, “hello, princess.”

“Can you leave the girls with Penelope and meet me in the ER?”

“Of what hospital? Are you okay?” He asks, and all eyes are on his horrified face.

Luke stands then, “I’ll take you, let’s go.”

“Bethesda, it’s not bad I just came in to check something and I want you here,” her voice is soft and she knows he’s going to panic. “I need you to breathe and stay calm or the kids will freak out.”

He takes a deep breath, “sorry I forgot we had an appointment today.” He lies pretty well.

“I’ll see you soon okay, text me while Luke drives me?” He’s quiet as he and Luke slip out the door.

“I’ll just stay on the line, I don’t mind, cutie,” he could see her smile in his mind as he listened to her. Able to actually calm down and think straight as he climbed into the passenger seat and handed Luke the keys.

“What happened?”

“I didn’t feel good, I was extra dizzy and sick a few times at work, so Allison made me come in. Savannah has me hooked up to an IV now, I’ve been so sick I’m dehydrated, and they wanted to do an ultrasound but I can’t see her without you here.”

His heartbeat settles a bit, the same thing happened to JJ. It was fairly normal, the first-trimester sickness was so horrific she wasn’t really eating, she had maybe 1 full meal a day even though he tried to get her to eat more. And she was drinking a lot of water, but she was also throwing up hourly. It wasn’t healthy.

“Okay,” he’s able to smile softly. “Thank you for wanting to wait for me.”

She hears his smile too, knowing he’s calm and okay. “She’s your first baby, baby, I want you to have all the firsts with her. Or him. I’m so settled on it being another girl I feel so bad sometimes…”

He can hear the paper of her hospital gown rustling as she rubs her small stomach. “I love you forever even if you are a boy, or you come out a quote-unquote boy and want to be a girl or the other way or neither or even both!” She’s clearly not talking to him anymore as she assures the baby she’s not going to be upset about its gender.

Luke drives like a maniac, Spencer knows from experience but he’s extra insane today. He has dad panic now too, he knows what Spencer’s thinking and so he guns it and he’s in the ER parking lot within 10 minutes. “Okay, I’m here where are you?”

“Savannah’s going to collect you at the door and bring you to me,” her voice is soft and calm still, “I’ll see you in a few minutes, love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies before hanging up. “Thank you, Luke.”

Luke places his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “you know by now I’d kill for you, right?”

Spencer’s heart has been at a capacity for love for a while now and yet it keeps getting piled on, “thank you. If you want to go back to Penny’s that’s okay. I’ll drive Y/N’s car back to your place.”

“Sure,” Luke smiles again. “Go see that baby, I want to see pictures after!”

With that, Spencer’s getting out of the truck and running into the hospital, holding his hat so it doesn’t fly off. Savannah laughs when she sees him, he’s so anxious and sweet and she’s always admired him for making Derek feel loved before her.

She places a hand on his back as she leads him down the hall, “she’s fine I promise, I wouldn’t be this chill if she wasn’t.”

“Thank you,” Spencer stops, “I really love her Savannah. Like if anything happens to her or my kids I will kill myself kind of love her and it’s terrifying.” His words are a whisper as he shakes, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m trying to be cool and collected for her but I need a minute.”

Savannah looks down the corridor past him, smiling softly as Derek walks out of Y/N’s room. “Derek was here for lunch when she called me.”

He wraps Spencer up in the hug he needs and Spencer just holds him. “You’re the best,” he says softly as he rests his lips against Derek's shoulder like he always does. And Derek messes up his hair, without fail.

Derek places his hands on his cheeks, “she’s really cool, but tomorrow is called off until they’re both past the first trimester and everything is chill, okay?”

“I forgot all about that,” Spencer’s eyes widen.

Derek laughs, “go see your girl, she invited us over for dinner after.”

“Penelope and Luke have to come too, they have big news to share today too,” Spencer spills the beans, “she’s going to be so mad at me for telling you but I have been wanting to scream about it for a few hours now.”

Derek’s face lights up, “I’ll be back!”

Savannah laughs as he runs down the hall, surely going to congratulate his best friend and tell her all about how cool it’ll be to all have kids together. With all the enthusiasm that Spencer kept inside, Derek was about to scream on his behalf.

Y/N’s a vision in the blue paper gown, laying on the table with her hand over her belly as Spencer walks in, “Hey, cutie.”

He peppers kisses to her whole face while she laughs, reaching up with her free hand, the other is all taped up with wires for her fluids. She looks much better already, her skin is glowing and the life is back in her eyes, she’s smiling again and he notices the 2 empty jello cups beside an unopened one.

“Derek made me save you one,” She adds as he notices it, “in case you passed out or something.”

Within minutes, he’s done his jello and there’s a new woman he’s never seen before coming in for Y/N’s ultrasound. She introduces herself as Aria and Y/N can’t help but mention she kind of looks like Arizona on Grey’s Anatomy.

She’s not far along enough for the regular ultrasound wand to pick anything up, wiping her belly clean of the jelly before prepping the other one and Y/N grips Spencer’s hand tighter. She looks like she hates it, and Spencer probably would too if some strange lady shoved a metal stick up his parts.

She’s clicking around on her own, Spencer knows she’s just a tech and she can’t really tell them anything until she does the first sweep for all the answers. She turns the screen after a few minutes, “here’s your little baby, we have a healthy heartbeat and a placenta up here in the top left.”

Seeing his baby is the most magical moment of his life. She was so tiny, the size of a sweet pea inside the love of his life. She looked like a little alien, tiny in her little sac as she floated around in there. Happy, and healthy and growing day by day.”

“Just the one?” Y/N confirms.

Aria laughs, “yes, nothing else is going on in here, but they are measuring more at 7 weeks, almost 8, instead of 6 weeks and 5 days, even with your period math, they might just be a big baby.”

“Our first kid was a chunky baby,” Y/N smiles, looking at the screen and oblivious to how Spencer smiles at the words our first kid…

“So this little one is good, in the fetal position and the tail is at the right length for development, they should look like a person the next time you see them. Everything looks like it’s on track and your HCG is doubling perfectly,” Aria was very cheerful. “You’re just sick because they’re super healthy.”

“I’m fine with that,” Y/N smiles again, “can I have a bunch of copies? Everyone is going to want one.”

“Sure,” Aria hits a few buttons, printing 11 photos off and handing them over to her in a long strand. “Have you looked into any OB’s for this one?”

“Not yet, I was going to bring it up tonight,” Y/N’s the only one talking, Spencer has no idea if he’s allowed an opinion on her body and he’s never going to give one unless she asks.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it! Here are some facilities we like if you need recommendations,” she smiles as she hands them a booklet. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Y/N swoons, sitting up to look at her little baby photos and read the booklet.

Once the woman is gone, she smiles at Spencer, “I want to do a water birth, how are you feeling about that?”

“Like I’ll be there no matter what you pick?” He answers, “I just want you to be safe and in good hands, preferably in a birthing centre where they’re all trained to care for you. I’ve been a little stressed at the idea of us living so far away from the hospital, so it’s better to not do a home birth in case something goes wrong last minute.”

It’s a Reid rant of epic proportions, “okay, water birth in a birthing centre it is. Plus, it’ll be winter so I wouldn’t want to drive in that while giving birth.”

“How long do you have to stay here?”

“Once my IV fluid bag is empty, I can go.” She smiles wide, holding his hand gently as she looks at him. “They’re going to send a nurse to the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays to ensure I get more fluids in me, and I’m also going to take some nausea meds now.”

“Thank you for calling me,” Spencer whispers, “I’m so happy you feel safe with Derek, and that he could have been here for you, but can you call me first next time?”

She nods, “I was scared, I needed to know if she was okay before I told you because I love you a lot and seeing you upset made me more scared.”

“I don’t want you to feel like that,” Spencer shook his head softly, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. “I may be a worry wort and an anxious crier, but I will hold your hand and I will be here, you mean more to me than anything else.”

She cupped his face with her free hand, “the girls better be on the same level as me.” She brings a smile to his face, “if anything happens to me you have to be strong for them, I know nothing bad will. But I need you to know I do have faith in you to keep going after me, for them. They need a parent, be it me or you, at 100% all the time.”

“I promise,” he smiles so she knows he’s true.

—

Penelope Spencer and Derek laid all 3 of their ultrasounds on Y/N’s kitchen table, a sticky note on each one. Baby Garvez, Baby Morgan and Baby Reid…

The Big Three 2.0 coming this winter.

Penelope took a photo of it, opening the BAU text thread that has all members past and present included. Sending the photo to everyone while they patiently waited for a response.

Jordan Todd: way to go!!! Can’t wait to see all that cuteness!

Anderson: !!! Bring them by the office sometime, please!

Hotch: Jack said he’s excited to meet his new cousins. Congrats guys.

Elle: is Penelope having 2 babies or did Spencer get a wife I don’t know about?

Emily: Congrats!! (And yes Spencer has a wife and 3 kids now apparently…)

Elle: pics or it didn’t happen

Spencer:

Elle: no fuckin way... congrats Reid!

Alex Blake: so proud of you Spencer, I always knew you could do it. Love is full of endless possibilities. Your kids will be so loved, I miss you all.

Matt Cruz: congrats!

Kate Callahan: we need to get you a triple stroller

Penelope: Please!! Zoo trips are going to be a riot with that!

Tara: so happy for you all!

Matt: Welcome to the club Spencer and Luke!

Kristy: and Y/N! We need to throw a big baby shower on the farm before the cold weather!

Will: JJ…

JJ: no.

Will: Spencer, tell nini I’m really happy she’s finally going to be a big sis, she’s always been so good with the kids. You made some great kids!

Spencer: thanks everyone ♥︎

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[justmypartner]

Still Breathing: Chapter 1

Summary: AU | When a case goes sideways, Hailey wakes up in the hospital with a revelation that leaves her evaluating her life. While she recovers at Med, she meets Jay, an aloof, yet intriguing patient that catches her by surprise. The two get to know one another as they take on the task of rediscovering what it’s like to truly live, and eventually learn their lives intersect in more ways than one. 

Writer’s Note: Hi!!! I’ve had this idea for a while and it’s taken me quite a bit to finally get started, but I’m super excited about it. This probably won’t be a weekly fic, but I’ll try and post as frequently as possible. I don’t want to give too much away… but it explores something in the Halstead background that has been referenced, but never fully developed so I really tried to dive deep into what it is and how it would affect Jay. It’s been fun (and somewhat emotional) to work through & I really hope you enjoy!! 

Read on AO3 or below

“Order, Arms,” a voice called out, sending Hailey’s hand back down to her side.

She remained in place, frozen as she resumed attention, fighting hard to conceal the joy spilling out of her. It was her graduation day. She was just sworn in, and for the first time ever, deemed an Officer of the Chicago Police Department. She took in the room from under the low brim of her hat, her lips curling up at the corners as the Department Pipes and Drums began to play. She closed her eyes briefly, relishing in the moment, and when she opened, she was suddenly somewhere else entirely. She was no longer standing in the middle of the Grand Ballroom at Navy Pier. She still wore those same blues from before, slightly older and more worn than they once were, but her bright, green attitude she previously bore was gone. She was exhausted and nervous, sitting before her District Commander in a small and unfamiliar room in Ivory Tower.

“Hailey, I hope I don’t have to remind you that you are not to discuss the case with anyone, nothing you did, nothing you saw, not a single detail that pertains to the operation is to be exchanged until you are told otherwise by the AUSA’s office,” the Commander instructed her, carrying an even tone that made the reason for the meeting hard to discern.

“Yes ma’am,” Hailey affirmed with a simple nod.

“With that being said, I have news for you. There will be a more formal presentation of this news, but for now I get to be the first to tell you,” the Commander spoke, inhaling deeply before continuing. “Officer Hailey Upton, for your outstanding acts of heroism and performance during the aforementioned case, on behalf of the Superintendent of Police, the Bureau of Detectives, and the entirety of the Chicago Police Department, we commend your service with a merit promotion to the ranking of Detective.”

Her brows raised in surprise. After the long stretch undercover, she was just happy to finally be Hailey again, to be in her home, to be able to work with the safety and familiarity of her coworkers. She had spent those weeks hoping the case would lend her a promotion, but she never fully imagined that it would. She was equal parts ecstatic and stunned by the news, but she blinked, and she was transported once again. She was no longer sitting across from her District Commander but from Sergeant Voight in the low light of his office.

“Our only Detective just recently and unexpectedly took furlough. Burgess, Ruzek, Atwater, we’ve been trying to make do with just us, but we’re stretched thin. There’s a spot on our team and we could really use the help. It’s yours if you want it,” his gravelly voice posited.

Before she knew it, those moments that stood out so vividly in her mind became fuzzy images in what seemed like a poorly put together movie, and everything began to fade to black.

When she finally woke, it was to the sound of machines and the low babel of indistinct conversation. As her eyes blinked open, she took in the glimpse of four familiar faces and numerous wires and IVs hooked up to her body.

She hadn’t been in Intelligence long, only about two weeks before she wound up in that hospital room, but she knew from her first day that she had stumbled upon her forever people. She didn’t take the job with this expectation. In fact, she was expecting it to be as rocky as her first time working with the team. Yet, she came to learn that despite the reputation that preceded them, they were some of the most loyal and genuine people she had met in all of her time with the CPD. In only the short amount of time she had been with them, they had clung to her in a way nobody else ever had, developing what she knew to be a lifelong bond. The fact that their faces were the first she saw when she finally came to only affirmed that.

“There she is!” Kevin’s voice rang as they all rose, making their way closer to her bedside.

“Did we get them?” Her voice croaked, and they all nodded in confirmation, looking over to their sergeant to deliver the news.

Her memory of right before everything went dark was fuzzy. She wasn’t exactly sure what caused the injuries that left her aching all over, but everything else, the case, the targets, it was all still fresh in her mind. She didn’t want to talk about the case. She didn’t even want to think about it, but she needed to know if they got them. That everything that happened was worth it. She breathed out, allowing a sliver of tension that had been bottled up inside of her release with it. She watched them nod, and she waited for her boss to tell her what she needed to hear.

“We got ‘em, kid. They’re going down for everything, but most importantly for what they did to you,” he assured. She nodded, flinching at the surge of pain that came with the small movement.

“Okay, everybody. I need some time with the patient if you don’t mind,” the doctor announced as she entered the room. They all nodded, grabbing their things to leave.

“I’m happy you’re okay,” Kim told her, reaching out and briefly resting a hand over hers. Voight and Adam nodded in agreement before they all turned to walk out.

“Tough as they come, girl. Glad you’re still with us,” Kevin said, reaching out his arm and fist for her to bump. She smiled, bumping him back with her uninjured arm and thanking them all for being there.

Once they had left the room, the doctor quickly read over her chart before rolling a chair over to her.

“So, give me the rundown. How bad is it?” Hailey questioned anxiously.

“You were shot three times. Twice in the abdomen, once in the shoulder. That vest of yours caught the first two. However, they did leave some pretty significant bruising so we are going to need to monitor you closely, make sure you don’t develop any internal bleeding or rupture. The one in your shoulder was a through and through. We were able to go in and repair what it tore, but you lost a lot of blood. So, you should get comfortable. We’re going to need to keep you here for observation a few days. Looks like you’ll be out of work for the next week at the least, then out of the field for a few weeks after that,” She explained. Hailey just nodded simply in response, a look of defeat on her face.

“Detective, it could have been a lot worse had you not been wearing that vest. It also could have been a lot worse if that bullet in your shoulder struck just a half a centimeter lower. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I’d say you’re pretty lucky,” she admitted, rising from her chair before dropping her chart at the end of the bed and making her way out of the room.

Lucky. It wasn’t the word she’d use to describe how she was feeling. On top of the pain, she was reeling from that vision she had just before her breathing stalled and everything shut off. She’d always heard people say their life flashed before their eyes in those kind of moments, but she never expected it to be such a deflating experience. Her life flashed before her eyes, but the only outstanding moments were her graduation from the academy, her promotion to detective, and her offer into Intelligence. She loved her job, and she was proud of those moments, but it felt disillusioning that in what felt like her final moments, the only good memories her brain could come up with tied back to her job. A job that too often reminded her of all of the bad in the world. A job that had landed her there in the first place.

She didn’t want to fully think about what happened. She wasn’t emotionally prepared for it. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about the moment before she lost consciousness, when those memories flashed through her mind. It made her realize just how empty her life had been. Her injuries may not have necessarily been life threatening, but she felt as though she was getting a second chance. A second chance to get more out of life than a few job related accomplishments in her end-of-life film reel. A second chance to be intentional about making more memories.

- - - -

A few days had gone by, and she was still in the hospital. She was already feeling better, more than ready to go home, but her doctor extended her stay, wanting to monitor her and her labs. She spent a lot of time in her room, keeping her mind busy with a few books Kim had brought her, but getting distracted by whatever rerun was playing on the small tv screen in the corner of the room. She didn’t have any visitors, something that only added to the epiphany about her life that had her rattled from the moment she woke. Her Intelligence family was practically all she had. They stopped by when they could, but for the most part they were all busy at work, leaving her alone to herself and the occasional check in from various medical staff. Boredom was growing with each passing minute, and she thought about how hard it would be to survive a few weeks out of the field if she couldn’t even make it through a few days in the hospital.

Having enough of sitting in the hospital bed, she was able to convince a nurse to let her sneak out for a walk around the hospital. She felt like a mess. She was dressed head to toe in sweats, her right arm was in a sling, and the look was pulled together with a pair of socks and sandals. Not exactly the most flattering outfit, but she had reached the level of restlessness that left her unaffected by her appearance. She just needed to be out of that room.

She got another book in the gift shop and stopped by the cafeteria where she found some chocolate ice cream. She tucked the book into her sling as she walked about the halls, shoveling the snack into her mouth with each step. She finally climbed into the elevator, and pressed the button for her floor before settling into the back corner. Every bit seemed better than the last. She wasn’t sold on the hospital food. It reminded her of grade school cafeteria food, something she was never fond of, so she knew that ice cream would be the only good thing she had to eat all day. The elevator stopped at the next floor and a man stepped in, pressing a button before settling into the corner across from her. She briefly looked up at him with a friendly nod before looking back down into the cup in her hand for another bite. Suddenly, a movement across the car brought her attention back to him. He had pulled a needled syringe from his pocket and began pressing it into his forearm. Her posture straightened and she froze as she watched him repeatedly stab his arm with the needle.

“Trypanophobia… don’t worry, it’s a prop needle,” he broke through the silence, and she relaxed slightly as he continued to speak.

“You know? The ones they use in movies that don’t actually pierce the skin. My idiot brother said the best way to overcome my fear of needles is exposure therapy, starting with these fake ones. Yet, I’ve been in and out of this hospital for several weeks now, plenty exposed to these things, and I still can’t seem to get used to the poking and prodding,” the man said, flashing her a shy smile as he continued pushing the needle into his arm.

“Seems like pretty sound advice to me. Maybe your idiot brother isn’t such an idiot after all,” she responded back with amusement.

“Yeah, well he may be a doctor, but he’s also my older brother which, in my eyes, makes him an idiot by default,” he said matter-of-factly, immediately looking up at her with a curl in his lips.

“Ah, well I have 2 brothers myself, so I suppose I can somewhat appreciate that sentiment,” she smirked, looking over at him from the other side of the elevator.

She discretely eyed him as he busied his focus back on the syringe in his hand. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and a shirt that fit a little too tight, revealing toned muscles underneath with every movement. The beanie he wore fully covered his head but based on the freckles all across his face and the darkness of his eyebrows, she had to guess he was a redhead, maybe even a brunette. His face was clean shaven, which made it hard to tell just how old he was, but his eyes were what had her. They were an entrancing blend of green and blue, and they gave off a sort of friendly warmth that mellowed out his somewhat intimidating deportment.

“What landed you in here?” He asked, continuing to mindlessly press the object into his arm.

“I- injured on the job,” she put simply.

“Been there,” he said directly, his obscurity matching hers. Her brow furrowed briefly before silence filled the small space and she centered her focus back on the ice cream in her hand.

“Are you doing anything right now, you know, besides stuffing your face with diabetes?” He queried, cutting through the silence and nodding to the cup of ice cream in her hand. She scoffed sarcastically.

“Why do you ask?” She questioned dubiously, trying to keep a lightness in her voice. “Also, I’ll have you know this is the only decent thing to eat this hospital has to offer. I survived a few bullets, I’m sure a little sugar won’t kill me,” she replied. He chuckled as she scooped up a large bite and shoveled it into her mouth with pride.

“Fair enough. And I ask because I have some time to kill, so I just wanted to see if you cared to join me for a little golf on the roof,” he said.

“There isn’t golf on the roof,” she shook her head, amused by the way he proposed it so factually.

“Oh, but there is,” he returned. She squinted her eyes at him in disbelief, and he quickly pressed the elevator button for the roof. She didn’t believe him, but she was bored. Out of her mind. So, she reluctantly decided to follow him. When the elevator stopped at the rooftop, he led her out to an opening with a small patch of turf, two clubs, and a basket of golf balls.

“What the hell? You were serious?” she laughed.

“Yeah, I was serious. I never joke about golf,” He said frankly, grabbing a golf club and placing the ball on the tee.

“Is this even allowed?” She asked, placing her empty cup down as she watched him swing the club into the ball. Her eyes travelled it as it flew from the roof, and she brought her eyes back to him, a staggered look on her face.

“Probably not, but like I said, my idiot brother is a doctor, so if we get caught I’ll just blame it on him,” he smiled, flashing her a wink before hitting another ball off the tee. “Do you want to try?” He asked, offering her a club.

“Don’t think that’s even possible,” she returned, raising her slinged arm slightly to make her point.

“That’s no excuse,” he said, “Come here,” he instructed. She gave in, making her way over toward him.

Close up, his eyes were more green than blue, and they were so beautiful that she found herself getting lost in them for a second. She snapped back into focus when he offered her the club. She took it, and he helped her adjust her feet so that she was standing properly. He placed a ball on the tee, took a step back, and motioned for her to have at it.

She wound the shot up with her uninjured arm and struck the ball. She was still sore from her injuries, and the movement of the swing sent a surge of pain through her torso. She flinched, chipping the top of the ball in the follow through. They both erupted in laughter when the ball barely went but a few feet in front of them, and she dropped the club to the ground to clutch at her abdomen.

“Okay, so maybe you were right,” he laughed, his mood dropping the second he noticed she was in pain. “Hey, are you okay?” He inspected, reaching a supportive hand through the small distance between them.

“Yeah, just still a little sore,” she admitted, stepping back as she forced a smile to hide her pain. He just nodded and she stepped back to lean against the wall. He was silent, but she could sense he was thinking hard about something.

“So injured on the job, huh?” He finally asked. “You mentioned something about surviving a bullet, so what exactly is your job? Bank Robber? Spy? Assassin?” He bantered. She pursed her lips into a wry smile, shaking her head with a weak laugh.

“Mm. You pay attention. I’m a Cop. Detective more specifically. It was uh…” she hadn’t fully addressed how everything had went down yet. The case wasn’t one she wanted to particularly think about, and as the memories from moments before the shooting slowly came back, she immediately pushed them down. She still wasn’t prepared to talk about it. Especially not to some stranger she met in an elevator only 15 minutes before.

“Things took a turn quickly. I took two to the vest, one in the shoulder,” she finally got out, remaining vague through her wording.

His movements stilled, and he looked over at her, a concerned yet knowing look on his face.

“Through and through?” He asked her. She nodded bleakly.

“I’ve had a similar injury,” she noticed his jaw clench with his words. “I was a cop too,” he eventually admitted, a sullen look falling upon his face.

“Was?” She questioned.

“I mean, I guess I technically still am, but it doesn’t feel like it,” he adumbrated. She noticed he was being cryptic, but despite her own curiosity she could tell it wasn’t something he was prepared to talk about. It got quiet as she weighed whether or not to question him further. She settled against it, and in desperate need to change the subject, her attention fell back upon the golf setup. She nodded her head towards it to redirect the conversation.

“So why do you have this here?” She asked him. She watched as he sucked his teeth, pulling his tongue back with a pop before answering.

“I was diagnosed with Stage 2 Pancreatic Cancer several weeks ago. Started chemotherapy not long after that, and as I mentioned before, needles are not my favorite thing, so I come up here before each treatment… calm my nerves a bit,” he admitted. Her face fell. She put two and two together, figuring that was his reason behind not feeling like a cop anymore. She quickly realized her problems, her boredom, everything she’d complained about in the past few days really didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. It also in a way reminded her of that second chance she seemed to have gotten. She was suddenly both inspired and confused about where she stood in the way she viewed her life.

“I’m sorry,” she said, almost in a whisper.

“Oh, none of that. No room for sorry or sadness up here. Only golf,” he quipped, forcing a smile and turning his attention back to the golf ball on the ground before whacking it from the roof.

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed in her pocket, bringing her attention away from him.

Where are you? Kev and I brought you some food, but your room is empty.

It was a text from Kim. After reading it, she looked up at the man. She had a strange desire to stay up there with him, to watch him hit golf balls from the roof and get to know more about him, but she knew her friends would send the entire hospital after her if she didn’t show a sign of life.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go,” she said, slipping her phone back in her pocket and pushing herself from the wall.

“Hey, what’d I say about sorry?” He smirked, resting the club on the ground and leaning against it as he stepped towards her.

“How much longer are you stuck here?” he asked, tilting his head with his words.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure. Doctors haven’t been able to give me a clear answer.”

“Well, maybe I’ll see you around. It was nice to meet you um…” he let out an awkward chuckle. “I don’t know your name,” he said sheepishly.

“Hailey. I’m Hailey,” she smirked, extending her uninjured hand for him to shake. He grabbed it, shaking it back lightly and slowly. As he peered into her eyes, an abnormal feeling overcame her. It was almost a sense of familiarity, like he wasn’t a stranger she had just met, but someone she’d known her whole life. It was the look in his eyes and the comfort of his touch, and it was a feeling that took her by surprise. Nonetheless, the feeling was gone as quickly as it came, and they pulled apart as he parted his lips to speak.

“Nice to meet you, Hailey,” he said, his free hand finding way to his pocket. Her phone buzzed again, another text from Kim, and she knew she had to get back to her room before they sent the entirety of Chicago searching for her. She gave him one last smile before turning towards the elevators. As she settled in and pressed the button for her floor, she looked up to see him watching her every movement. She quickly looked down at her feet with this realization, remembering how she was dressed and suddenly regretting leaving her room like that. She was grateful when he finally turned, directing his attention back to the golf balls on the ground.

“Wait,” she said, throwing her free hand up to the elevator doors as they began to close. He twisted around, his eyes carrying a gentle, curious look.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” she called out.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped himself, his eyes looking up and dropping quickly as if he’d forgotten his name and was waiting for it to fall from the sky.

“Just remember me as the stranger from the elevator,” he finally said slyly.

She frowned, but he just returned her look with taut smirk. When it was clear that was all he was going to offer, she backed up into the elevator, an annoyed and skeptical smile on her face as she allowed the doors to fall shut.

She acted on autopilot for the rest of the afternoon, distracted by the encounter with the stranger. She wasn’t an at first sight kind of person. Love, admiration, attraction, feelings, they weren’t things she typically felt from the jump. It took time and trust for her to develop those things that some could develop in a first encounter. Yet, with this guy, something was different. From the ride down to the elevator, to dinner in her room with her friends, to the moment her head touched the uncomfortable hospital pillow that night, the stranger and some unexplainable feeling about him lingered in her mind like a bad hangover. He was aloof and smug, but something about that combination left her wanting more. More about his story, about his quirks, about everything that made him seem so interesting.

It took her a while to find sleep, as it had every night prior that she had spent in that hospital, but that night it was for another reason. It wasn’t just the discomfort of the bed or the unfamiliarity of the room that left her restless. It was the image of the stranger’s well-pleased grin in her mind, his blue-green eyes sparkling at her, and her own curiosity keeping her up late into the night. Every part of her hoped that she would see him again. She couldn’t quite explain it, but the timing of it all made her think she was meant to meet him for some undiscovered reason. That gave her just enough hope that their encounter wasn’t just a one time thing. She had a strong feeling she was going to see him again.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hi. Thank you for your wonderful works, they always make my day! I would like to request a story featuring pregnant Sirius and James not reacting positively at first. Perhaps even some nice Sirius&Lily friendship with Sirius crying on Lily's shoulder and Lily later setting James straight. Thank you. Hankycka

((A/N: Nothing explicit, but there are mentions to issues conceiving, just in case that bothers anyone))

"I'm pregnant," Sirius said, smiling.

"Oh no," James said.

Sirius's smile was gone in an instant. "What?"

"No, I didn't mean- it's- oh bugger."

He blinked at James. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," James said miserably, covering his face with his hands.

"Great," Sirius said flatly, his good mood leaving in a rush like air being let out of a balloon. "I'm so happy to see that you're overwhelmed with joy. I'll just go share the good news."

He didn't know what he was going to do or where he was going to go, but he ignored James calling his name and left, then found himself on Lily's doorstep and figured why not? Lily probably wouldn't react the same way that James had, and he could use someone being nice to him right now. He knocked on the door and waited anxiously for it to open. It was times like this that he was glad they lived in the same neighbourhood, because otherwise he would've walked around the block, then gone back home and asked James if he was over it yet.

Lily answered the door a minute later. "Sirius, hi. Come on in," she said, holding the door wider to make room for him. "I wasn't expecting you. Did I forget that we have plans? And do you want a cuppa?"

"No, no plans, but some herbal tea would be nice, if you've got it," he said, pulling off his shoes and following Lily to the kitchen. "Do you have a minute or are you busy?"

"I've always got time for you. Besides, Remus is at his doctor, so I could use a distraction while I wait to hear from him. What's up?"

"I'm pregnant."

Lily beamed, turning to face him with the kettle still in her hands. "That's great! I bet James was over the moon. Erm, wasn't he?" she added upon seeing his downtrodden expression.

"Not so much."

"Well what did he say?"

"'Oh no' and 'bugger'."

Lily blinked. "Please tell me you're joking."

Sirius shook his head. Saying it aloud to someone else didn't make him feel any better about it. In fact, it made him feel worse. James-- as Lily said-- should've been over the moon. There had been a few years where they thought that they'd have to try and adopt before learning that Sirius was still fertile and could carry naturally (though it might take some time with his medical complications). It should've been the best news ever, or at the very least, good news. "I thought he'd be happy, but he acted like it was the end of his bloody life. I just- I know that it wasn't smart or healthy or whatever the fuck, but I walked out and... wound up here. I wanted him to be ecstatic about this; I was when I found out, and it lasted all morning until he-" Sirius broke off with a frustrated sigh. "I know that it's big news, but I thought it was happy big news. I was expecting some disbelief, yeah, because we've only been trying for a couple months and Doctor Prewett told us it might take years, but I never thought he'd be upset about it. I don't really know what to do when James is upset with me. He usually isn't, so I've never had to learn how to deal with it. I mean," he amended a second later, "little fights over where I put the remote and whose turn it is to clean the loo, but nothing like this."

Lily put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. She finished filling up the kettle and put it on the stove. "I'm going to make a call, but it shouldn't take long. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay," Sirius said, and he was so dejected that he didn't find it strange she suddenly had to call someone.

She went to her room and closed the door, dialling James's number.

"Hello?"

"Hi James, it's Lily. I thought you might want to know that Sirius is over at my house."

He breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thanks. I'm sure you're not my biggest fan right now, but thank you for calling. He didn't take his phone or his keys, and I didn't know if he was going to come back or- thanks, Lily. Is he okay?"

"Honestly? No. What were you thinking? I thought you wanted to have a baby."

"I do, and we do, but I've got news of my own that doesn't make the timing great."

"Okay," Lily said slowly. "I want to be understanding and respect the fact that this is your relationship and everything, but maybe you should've said that to Sirius instead of 'oh no'? Just- look, obviously I don't know the specifics of your relationship, and I don't like to stick my nose in your business because we made that deal our last year of Hogwarts that if I kept out of your relationship, you'd stay out of mine, but he's really sad. Like, ridiculously sad. He doesn't know what's going on, and he thinks you're mad at him or summat. So please, come over and apologise or say that you'll explain or whatever it is you need to do. Because it's kind of a prick move to make a pregnant person this sad."

"I know; I panicked. I'll be right over. Can you tell him I'm on my way? Or hand him the phone so I can tell him?"

"I'll tell him. And James? Thanks."

"No problem, Evans. I know you're a disaster when people start crying."

Lily snorted but didn't argue-- mostly because it was true. She hung up and tucked her phone back in her pocket as she walked back to the kitchen. She meant to tell Sirius that James was on his way, but she froze when she saw that he'd started crying. "Erm." She was having a bit of an 'oh no' moment herself. She wasn't good when people were crying, but she also wasn't going to just leave Sirius like this. She walked over and gave him a hug. "It's okay."

Sirius sniffled and didn't say anything. He hugged her back, so she figured she should get comfortable as they waited for James to arrive.

It didn't take long, and he didn't bother to knock on the door. For once, it didn't annoy Lily that he walked right in. Sirius wiped at his face when he heard footsteps, and he glared when he saw that it was James. "What're you doing here?" he asked, and Lily shot James an apologetic look that hopefully conveyed she hadn't had the opportunity to tell Sirius that he was coming over.

"Well, you're my husband, and you sort of ran out before I could explain."

"What's to explain? I'm pregnant and you're mad about it."

"Can we go home and talk?" James asked, which was good; Lily had already been present for more of this conversation than she wanted.

"No," Sirius muttered petulantly.

James glanced at Lily. "I know it's your house, and I'm sorry, but do you think you could give us a minute?"

"Sure. I'll just erm-" she jerked a thumb over her shoulder "-be in the spare room." She'd be able to find something to do there until they were done. And if she couldn't, she'd be able to sit and wait just as well in the spare room as she could in front of the telly.

James walked over and sat in a chair next to Sirius. "I'm sorry I reacted like that," he said quietly.

"Why did you?" Sirius asked, looking over at him with betrayal written all over his face. "We were trying to get pregnant, and now that it's happened you're having second thoughts? It's a little late for that."

"No," James said immediately. "Not second thoughts, nothing like that, love. It's just that the timing's kind of- well, rubbish. Moody announced the team for the new project over in the States."

He blinked at his husband, eyes wide. James didn't have to say that he was on the team for Sirius to know that's what had happened.

"It got announced today, and I was trying to think of how to tell you. I thought we might put off trying to have a baby for the next year so that I would be able to move back home, and-" his breath caught and he didn't bother trying to finish his sentence. "I don't know what to do. I can turn down the assignment, but it would set back my career; this is supposed to be a golden opportunity. If I turn it down, there won't be another chance like this for years. Although," James said with a sigh, "maybe it's worth considering. There's no point in working on advancing if I'm going to be taking care of a baby two years from now. And back when we first started talking about kids, I promised you that I'd be there for you for all of it. My point is, we need to talk about this. I don't want to make a decision without thinking it through, and I'm sorry about not telling you how happy I am." He started to smile, and when he reached for Sirius's hand, Sirius turned to twine their fingers together. "I mean, bloody hell Sirius, a baby? We've been dreaming about that for years. Of course I'm happy. I'm just worried. And- yeah, a little upset that these two great things are happening at the same time which means I won't get to enjoy one of them as much as I was hoping."

"Yeah," Sirius said, because he one hundred percent understood what James meant. "We can- I dunno. Eat, sleep on it. Talk more." With his free hand, he wiped at his nose. It itched, but there was nothing he could do about that here. "Ah bugger, I did sort of take over Lily's day, didn't I?" He retracted his hand from James's and got to his feet, feeling embarrassed that he'd burst into tears at Lily and Remus's house. And that he'd run away from James. Gods, what had he been thinking? He'd been upset, yes, but if he wanted some space, he could've just gone to their room. Or to the backyard. Hindsight was twenty-twenty.

"I'm sure she'll forgive us," James said, pulling him into a quick hug. He pressed a kiss to the side of Sirius's head. "I love you so much, you know that?"

"I know."

"And I'm so sorry I didn't tell you what was going on right away."

"You did try, in your defense," Sirius mumbled.

"Well I should've been quicker about it." He kissed Sirius's head again, then stepped away. "I'll go tell Lily we're leaving."

[shyvioletcat]

71) “You look good in that.” for the firefighter au!!!!

Here’s another Striking Matches Drabble for Firefighter Friday! I promise Light the Sparks is coming, I just haven’t had a moment to get the outline sorted.

You’ll probably want to read THIS drabble beforehand

Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

There was a pile of discarded clothes on Aelin’s bed that she could see behind her as she looked over her current outfit in the mirror. She was sure this was the one. It was a mustard coloured flowy, knee length dress, the top overlapping to give a false wrap effect. The tie at the waist was the real selling point though, meaning she could leave it a little looser than she would probably usually have it. At 12 weeks pregnant she had just started to show and her wardrobe was starting to be compromised. Aelin couldn’t help herself and turned to the side, smoothing the fabric over the dress over her stomach to see the slight change in her body and smiled. Unless you were really looking for it, it wasn’t noticeable. But Aelin was always looking at it when she could.

“You look good in that,” Rowan said from the doorway and Aelin looked over to see him leading on the door frame.

She smiled at him as he smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“You ready to go?” He asked, moving into the bedroom. “You’ll need a coat. There’s a chilly wind out there tonight.”

Aelin checked the tie on her dress and watched as Rowan flicked through the jackets and coats that hung in her wardrobe. He pulled out a simple black coat and Aelin nodded her approval of the choice. Holding it out for her he helped her slip it on, making sure it didn’t catch on the brace she was still wearing on her wrist.

She untucked her hair from the collar and checked herself over in the mirror one last time. “Alright, let’s go. We don’t want to keep the grandparents waiting.”

Rowan positively beamed at those words.

Tonight they were going out to dinner with both sets of their parents and would announce the pregnancy to them. Besides Rowan’s team and Elide, the parents would be the first to be told. Aelin felt a little bad that they weren’t the first to know, and she knew Rowan felt the same, but they couldn’t help what happened. After Aelin had sworn them all to secrecy they had all managed to keep the news to themselves. 

Aelin’s mother had been beside herself when she’d heard about the accident. They had been visiting family in Varese when Aelin had called from the hospital and Evalin had been ready to get on the next flight back to Orynth, but Aelin had assured her she was fine, and also left out the fact that she would be staying in a few days for observation. Rowan’s parents had been just as equally distraught but they had already planned to visit a few weeks later so they held out, very conveniently arriving around the same time as Aelin’s parents. It had been too easy to suggest that they all have dinner together.

Hand in hand the parents-to-be walked out of the apartment, down the flights of stairs, and onto the street. They were meeting at a restaurant that was walking distance from their apartment which was all part of the plan. When Aelin and Rowan arrived, both sets of parents were waiting outside chatting together. When Evalin saw Aelin she immediately broke from the group, gathering her daughter into a hug.

“Careful, Mum. My ribs,” Aelin squeaked and was then immediately being held at arm's length, her mother’s scrutinising eye running over her.

“I thought you said you were okay now,” Evalin said, a hand coming to rest on Aelin’s cheek.

“I am, just healing,” Aelin insisted. 

Evalin narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

Aelin’s answer was an eyeroll, bluffing her way through the physical toll her pregnancy was taking on her body. 

“Yes, Mother. I am absolutely fine,” Aelin assured her. “I’ve had this one fussing over me non-stop so.”

Evalin finally let go of Aelin and looked away from her to Rowan. “Hello Rowan. How are you?” 

“I’m good,” Rowan replied and they hugged each other briefly. 

By then everyone else had wandered over, with more greetings and reassurances that yes, she was fine Aelin returned to Rowan’s side. Rowan was just smiling knowingly as he let Aelin deal with the situation. She knew that if she didn’t get him inside soon and distracted by food he would spill the big secret before the big reveal she had planned.

“Shall we?” Aelin said and led the way into the restaurant. 

Dinner had been lovely. Aelin was eternally grateful that her parents and her in-laws actually got on. They were so distracted by the conversation they didn’t notice that Aelin had ordered a chicken instead of steak, like she usually would. But the only way to eat steak was medium in the very least and her doctor has been insistent that all her meat be fully cooked. They also managed to miss the fact she had kept to water instead of a glass of wine, although her father had looked very confused for a second there as Aelin told the waiter her denial.

Now they were trekking back up the stairs, almost to their floor. The parents were coming in for more chatting and probably another drink, Aelin was really counting on that drink part. Rowan’s eyes were brimming with excitement as he unlocked the door. He was too adorable.

Aelin breezed into the apartment heading towards the bedroom to drop off her coat, as she got to the door she heard Rowan offer everyone a drink. There was a general consensus which had Aelin grinning.

“Just water for me please,” Iris chimed in.

“Of course, Mum,” Rowan said from the kitchen.

Aelin met him there, where we had four tumbler glasses and a bottle of wine on the counter as he was grabbing a jug of water from the fridge. Aelin looked at the glasses, glad they had arrived in time. Each one read their respective grandparent name with EST April and the year engraved delicately on the glass. Rowan poured out the drinks, practically humming with restrained excitement as he did so. When he was done he picked up the glasses for his parents and Aelin did the same for hers. They were all sitting on the couch, Iris, Evander and Evalin on the seats and Rhoe was on the arm of it next to Evalin. Rowan sat in the single armchair once he relinquished his drinks, Aelin perching on his lap a moment later.

“How’s the station, Rowan?” Rhoe asked and the conversation started flowing again. 

Aelin was hardly paying attention, she could sense Rowan doing the same as they waited for one of them to realise. Her eyes kept jumping from parent to parent when finally she saw Iris go perfectly still and look at her glass, the water more easily showing the words, when her eyes went wide Aelin knew it was about to get going. 

“Evan,” Iris breathed, but her husband didn’t hear her. Then she started tapping his leg furiously as she said his name again. “Evan, Evan. Look at your glass.”

“What? Is it dirty?” He said and Aelin almost burst out laughing, Rowan was hiding his smile behind his hand.

Then it was Evalin who squealed.

Aelin looked over at her mother and already saw tears brimming in her eyes.

“Oh,” Rhoe’s deep voice said quietly as he turned his glass in his hand. “Oh.”

“Wait…” Evander said, still not quite getting it and held the glass at arms length as he squinted to read in engraving. When he did he almost dropped his drink.

“You’re pregnant?” Evalin finally said, her voice thick with emotion.

“You bet, Grandma,” Aelin told her, trying to cover her own fraying emotions with a little bravado. Rowan’s firm squeeze to her hip told her she had failed. 

There was a flurry of movement and then Aelin was being pulled off Rowan’s lap and being embraced by both her parents, very enthusiastically but gently. They let her go and congratulated Rowan while his parents congratulated her, then eventually Aelin was tucked into Rowan’s side, his arm snaking around her waist as he dropped a kiss onto her head. The newly announced grandmothers were wiping at their eyes and Aelin noted that he father’s eyes were shining in the light.

Then Evalin whirled on them, something akin to devastation on her face. “You were pregnant in the accident?”

Aelin held onto Rowan a little tighter as she nodded. 

“Oh, baby,” Evalin whispered and Rhoe pulled her in for a hug.

“That would have been terrifying,” Iris added.

It was Rowan who answered. “It was, but we were very, very lucky. And now we’re excited beyond belief.” 

Aelin looked up at Rowan then and he looked down at her. They had been incredibly lucky that Aelin had walked away from that accident with minimal injuries and that the baby hadn’t been harmed. As Rowan smiled and then kissed her, she knew she was truly the luckiest woman in the world. 

~~~~~

Thanks for reading *blows kisses to you all*

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