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bakubub · 3 years ago

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In which Racer!Kuroo is your roommate and you finally learn more about him...

Warnings: Mentions of loss of loved one, disregard for own life, swearing, innuendos and implied nsfw (but sfw overall), fem!reader with she/her pronouns.

A/N: Idek what this is. Its literally a 4.6 k mixture of fluff, angst and comfort... I rewrote this like 4 times :,) being a perfectionist is so,,, tiring.

This takes part shortly after this, you can definitely read this without reading the 'part 1' if you will, since they don't depend on one another.

Art belongs to @aikk00 ,, and yes I am still in love with it :D

I stumble out of the lecture hall, my eyes so heavy I bump into about 3 other students and mumble my apologies until I fully wake up and snap out of my daze.

Walking down the stairs and making my way to the bus stop, I watch in horror as the bus I was supposed to be in drives off, going fast for once in its damn life as if mocking me.

Inhaling sharply through my nose, I manage to keep my composure and sit down at the bus stop, telling myself the next bus will be here in a bit.

It's fine. It's fine. I slept through the lecture, and I still have to catch up on 4 subjects and make dinner, but at least the house is clean and I'm caught up in that one subject I picked up for this exact reason.

It's fine. It's going to be just fi-

The rumble of a loud engine breaks my shitty but somewhat effective self-reassurance motto and I open my eyes to see a black and red sports car going 60 km/h in a 30 zone, effectively getting mine and everyone else's attention.

I watched in horror for the second time today as this time it stopped right in front of the bus stop. No, no, no, no.

No.

Please no.

He rolls down the passenger window with that ridiculous hair and a shit-eating grin, as he nods towards the seat, revving his engine.

I look away, pretending he's not looking directly at me and that I don't live with the guy, which I immediately regretted when he beeped the fucking horn.

What did I do to deserve this humiliation?

I hastily put my head down as he beeped it again, giving up and rushing towards his insufferable car, getting into the passenger seat and slumping in my seat to keep my head down low.

"What is wrong with you? What are you even doing here?" I hiss, my glaring up at him from my awkward, folded position.

He laughs, and when I hear the sound of a photo being taken in the split second I looked away to readjust my bag, I sit up straight, watching him continue speeding as he stuffs his phone into his pocket.

"Are. You. Trying. To. Kill. Me?!" I ask, my voice little less than a screech as I slap his arm with each word.

"Ow, ow, I just came to pick my roomie up! I sensed you needed a ride, and this is the thanks I get?" he asks, that smirk I have come to hate returning to grace his features.

I glare at him, but a small, sleep-deprived part of my brain is distracted by his appearance. A tight black tee adorning his built figure, his biceps are on display as he drives with one hand, the other resting on the gear shift. The air from his rolled down window is ruffling his hair this way and that, and I find myself wanting to run my hands through the raven strands, just as I had when I washed his hair that one time...

"Wait- how the fuck did you know I didn't have a ride?" I ask incredulously, my reaction time clearly delayed but here nonetheless.

I narrow my eyes as he hesitates before he answers, "I just knew, ok? It's not like it’s astrodynamics, not that I can't figure that out too."

"Kuroo, what the hell is astrodynamics? Are you like, spying on me or something?" I ask, pretending to look out the window so as to not get distracted by his appearance once more.

"What do you common folk call it? Rocket science?" He says, once again exceeding the speed limit.

"If I'm a commoner, does that make you a peasant? Also, stop going so fast, I feel sick and I do not feel like dying today."

He rolls his eyes in response as he slows down by a smidgen, the speed meter barely even moving. "Seriously, you may have no consideration for yourself, but I still have a lot of things to achieve with my damn life so slow the fuck down." My words finally reach the rational part in him and he slows down considerably, now going within the speed limit.

Taking a deep breath, I rest my elbow on my door and look out the window, my mind flooding with thoughts about Kuroo's reckless driving and how it can all go sour with one delayed reaction.

Before I know it, we're rolling up to our apartment building, driving into his private garage only the penthouse owners get to use.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, filling the silence in the car.

"It's ok. I just... I want you to be safe. I know its hard, but... just try," I say quietly, unable to look at him.

"That's what he said," he says hastily before rushing out of the car before I can hit him.

Getting out of the vehicle myself, I send a murderous look his way and run after his retreating form.

A small part of me is grateful that he's acting like his usual unbearable self again, but the rest of me is just mad at his relentless sex jokes.

He hits the elevator button before I can get there and I watch the doors close, his smirk practically shining through the crack of the closing doors. I jam my foot in the middle at the last possible second, and smile victoriously as I get into the metal box and slap his arm once again.

"Ooh, do it harder," he practically moans, and my eyes just about pop out of their sockets in embarrassment as my face flushes a deep red.

"Oh shut up," I mutter, turning around and waiting patiently for the doors to open on the top floor. I hear him snicker and then the sound of a photo being taken, turning around sharply. I yell in defiance and throw my bag on the floor as I jump onto him in an attempt to grab his phone out of his hand and delete the probably unflattering photo.

I straddle his back and reach for the phone he easily holds out of my reach. Leaning across his shoulder in a feeble attempt to reach it, my feet are hooked around his chest and my other hand is using his shoulder as a brace. He's laughing hard at this point, and I'm screaming at him to give me the damn phone. Neither of us notice the elevator doors opening nor the small woman standing at the threshold staring at us in shock and amusement.

"Kuroo Tetsuro! You let that poor girl down this instant, young man!"

We both froze at the authoritative voice, slowly turning to look at a small dark haired woman with a straight shoulder length cut and narrow gold eyes that were glaring at the man under me.

"MUM!" He exclaims, setting me down and running to hug and kiss the woman, his mum apparently. "What are you doing here?" I hear him ask as I straighten myself out, fixing my jumper and tucking my hair behind my ears, picking up my bag off the floor and quickly following them out of the elevator.

"What, a mother needs an excuse to come visit her boys? Where's Kenma?" She asks, looking in the elevator again as if to check if she missed him.

"Oh, he's at his own place. Apparently he has a booked in session with this famous gamer today. Did he say he'd be here?" Kuroo asks, letting go of the woman and leaning on the wall.

"No, I didn't tell anyone I was coming to visit. Never mind that, who's this pretty young lady here, hmm?" She asks, raising a perfectly shaped brow as she walks towards me, the click of her heels echoing in the lobby of the penthouse.

I smiled down at her, since she was considerably shorter than even me, and introduced myself. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Kuroo." I say, bowing.

"Oh no, no, none of that. You can call me mum too, hmm?" She says, gesturing me up from my bow and pulling me down for a tight hug.

"Oh, um, actually, me and Kuroo aren't-"

"We’ll talk more comfortably inside, no? Tetsuro, is your plan to let me stand here all day?” She asks, letting me go and turning around to look at Kuroo.

Kuroo leaps into action, taking his mum's bag and unlocking the door, helping her out of her heels and leading her into the spotless penthouse.

It was all I could do to nod in response, closing the door behind us and walking down into the kitchen to prepare a meal.

It’s crazy how much I don’t know about this guy. He’d never mentioned his mother before, and briefly mentioned that he has a sister, whether older or younger I have no idea. Kenma, however, I know well. The guy was here all the time when I first started living here, but recently I've seen him less and less. Which is a shame, considering we actually got along quite well, with sharing eye rolls and bonding over our mutual love of Minecraft.

I don't notice silent footsteps following me until Kuroo's Mother says "now, why's a beautiful girl like yourself slaving away in the kitchen? Does that boy make u do all the cooking and cleaning like some mid-century housewife?"

I poke my head out of the fridge, smiling at her fair assumptions, "no, no, it's not like that at all. I actually-"

"Uh, mum! You know I'm incompetent with this stuff. This place would be a mess if she wasn't here to run things! Plus, she loves to cook and finds cleaning therapeutic. Hey, her words not mine," Kuroo quickly jumps in, putting his hands up defensively when she looks at him with a raised brow.

Looks like he doesn't want his mother to know of our little arrangement.

"Right. He's just so hopeless, I can't trust him to do anything," I add on, sending her a smile as I prepare the fish he likes.

"You're making grilled mackerel for dinner?! Oh that's gonna hit the fu- the fun spot," he says, saving himself at the last second.

I hold back a snort as I take out a pan, "open the window, fish boy. It's about to stink here and I can't be bothered with Mrs. Suzuki coming all the way upstairs just to complain about the fish smell, and then complaining that she had to come up here in the first place. God, I hope she isn't sitting on the balcony today," I ramble, trying to see her balcony from outside the window, but fail because of the private location.

Damn these amazing architects.

I hear his mum chuckle at my rambling as she begins to take out ingredients for a salad. "Oh, you don't have to help, please sit and make yourself comfortable," I say, moving towards her to take the lettuce out of her hands.

"No, no, I'd like to pitch in. Now what kind of mother-in-law would I be to let you do everything yourself?" She asks, holding the lettuce away from me and walking over to the sink.

I stare at the back of her head, a flush creeping up my neck, "m-mother-in-law?!" I ask incredulously, glancing over at Kuroo who looked suspiciously... Smug. I look away quickly when he meets my eyes, and I hastily hyper-focus on the fish in front of me, placing it on the heated pan, causing sizzling and popping to fill the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry darling, I don't mean to be overbearing. Tetsuro introduced you as his girlfriend, so I thought things were getting serious since he actually allowed us to meet one another. You see, he’s never introduced me to a girl before, so you can imagine my excitement. I can stop if you're uncomfortable-"

I cut her off, feeling even more embarrassed as I realise the role I am to play in Kuroo's life when his mother is around. I mean, it makes sense, he can't exactly just admit he took a random girl into his house.

"I, um, no really it's fine, I understand" I say, my voice small as I flip the fish.

She lets out a delighted laugh and pulls me down into a hug once more. The smile on my face is genuine as my embarrassment melts away, the bright smile of this woman comforting me.

"So, how did you guys meet?" She asks, chopping up the ingredients for her salad on the bench while I'm at the stove, Kuroo leaning on his elbows on the bench.

"At uni," I answer at the same time as Kuroo states, "at a party."

We both look at each other with wide eyes, and I clear my throat to clarify, "at a uni party. A classmate of ours hosted one and we met each other there."

"I see, so the old boozed up one night stand turned into quite a domestic relationship hmm?" she suggests, wiggling her eyebrows at Kuroo.

"What? No, no, I would never! A one night stand? Booze? Please, what kind of man do you take me for?" Kuroo complains, looking offended.

I turn around towards the stove and roll my eyes. I've heard the rumours around campus, practically every girl in my lecture hall can testify to at least making out with the man. He really puts up a façade for his mum.

I hear the doorbell ring, and quickly take the fish off the stove to go answer it as Kuroo bickers with his mother about how innocent he really is.

"Hello? Who is it?" I ask, pressing the buzzer.

"Uh, hello? Is this Tetsu's place?" A deep voice answers. I look at the camera, seeing Kenma and a bunch of men about Kuroo's age looking confused. The one who answered is a guy with a blond mohawk and piercings adorning both ears.

"Yes, just give me a second," I reply. "Kuroo, I think Kenma and the rest of your friends are here? Should I let 'em up?" I shout out.

"Yeah let 'em in," he calls back. I press another button, letting them into the lobby.

I need to make more food.

Quickly taking out my frozen dumplings I stocked up for emergency dinners for days I couldn't be bothered to make anything better, I whip up a quick sauce, thinking I could split the fish and put it in the middle of the table so everyone can take their share.

"I do apologise darling, I let my Kenma know that I came to visit and he must have told the boys. I think they've all come to see me," Kuroo's mum confesses.

"You must be a very loved woman if they came all this way to see you. And it's no worries really, I'm always prepared for guests," I say, putting her at ease.

She beams at me as the door is banged loudly.

Kuroo mutters something about “rude assholes'' as he goes to open the door, a group of tall men making their way through the threshold.

"Hiya cap'ain," the mohawk guy says, patting Kuroo on the back. A tall, light brown haired man was next to greet him, then proceeded to exclaim "MUMMA KOZUME!!" and practically jumped onto the poor woman.

Wait, did he just say Kozume? Isn't Kenma's surname Kozume?

"Hey mum," Kenma greets, kneeling down to hug Kuroo's mum.

Who's mum is this lady?! I swear to god I'm going to go crazy.

"Hello hello everyone," A massive grey haired guy says, kissing Kuroo's mum on the cheek and hugging Kuroo.

The last guy to greet them is a tan guy with a buzz cut, and he does the same as his friend before.

"So Kuroo, when di'ja get yourself a girl, huh?" The grey haired guy asks, looking offended that he didn't know before now.

I raise my eyebrows as Kuroo just smiles guiltily. He introduces me to his friends and I wave hello, as they all begin to introduce themselves.

The grey haired guy says his name is Lev and that he's half Russian. A weird detail to include but interesting I guess.

The light brown haired man introduces himself as Yaku, and says that he was Kuroo's senpai back in high school.

"Yeah a demon senpai," Kuroo mutters in reply. My smile quickly turns into a grimace as Yaku jumps on him and they both start brawling on the floor, making a loud ruckus. A loud thumping can be heard from downstairs as Mrs. Suzuki starts to lose her mind and continues to bang the handle of her broom to her ceiling.

"Ugh, you morons upset Mrs. Suzuki! She's going to talk my ear off next time I see her..." I complain, grabbing a cushion and throwing it at the boys.

They flinch at my anger and quickly get up, muttering a quick apology. My glare softens as mohawk introduces himself as Yamamoto, and the tan guy says his name is Kai whilst vigorously shaking my hand.

"It's very nice meeting all of you. Dinner will be ready in a bit so please just make yourselves comfortable," I announce, making my way back into the kitchen.

The boys, all sporting grins, make their way to the living room and sit on the couches, man-spreading and slouching all over the place, one person taking up the usual spot for two.

I sigh, focusing on the dumplings in front of me.

I stiffen as I feel large hands on my waist, and a presence behind me. Visibly relaxing once I realise it's Kuroo, I turn around, his hands still resting on my hips, and his face nestled in the crook of my neck.

"Please just go along with it. We have to act like a couple if they're going to believe us," he mutters, his hot breath causing shivers to run up my spine.

I simply nod, instinctively placing my arms around his neck and running my fingers through his hair, something I've wanted to do since that day.

He groans into my neck, and I find myself holding my breath as I continue my hand movements.

"OI LOVEBIRDS! MUM SAYS THE DUMPLINGS ARE GONNA FUCKIN' STICK! Ow! Oh, sorry," I snatched my hands back from Kuroo, pushing his chest, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

What the fuck am I doing?!

I turn around back to the stove, mixing the dumplings in the boiling water as my thoughts race.

That felt too real, too much like a real relationship.

And way too addicting, apparently, since I already miss his close proximity.

The warmth on my waist disappears as I hear Kuroo running back into the living room.

"SHUT UP YOU MORON, THE DUMPLINGS ARE FINE!" I hear him scream, and then a loud thud as he presumably tackles whoever yelled at us to the ground.

I sigh as I hear Mrs. Suzuki's muffled thuds from downstairs in record time.

"You know I'm going to have to make Mrs. Suzuki some kind of apology cake because you boys can't sit down and act like adults," I complained, my arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on my face.

Lev and Yamamoto are on the floor playing some kind of Connect 4 game I've never seen before, while Kai looks to be having a deep conversation with Kuroo's mum, who is perched on the single arm chair like the queen she is.

Kenma is hogging the tv playing some kind of video game on Kuroo's ps5 (which I've hogged on more than one occasion), and Kuroo on the other hand has Yaku in a headlock.

He immediately lets go and apologises, and so does Yaku, who even bows in his regret.

I roll my eyes and shake my head at his mum, who just laughs, and I make my way back into the kitchen, setting food on the table and calling them in to eat.

After dinner, I find myself showered in compliments and not a bite of dinner leftover for tomorrow's lunch. Damn I'm good.

I served up cake I had already prepared from earlier along with fruits I washed and set on plates, and watched as that was eaten and finished before I even sat down. Kuroo's mum scolded the boys for poor manners, and they all apologised. Well, all except Kuroo, who just wiggled his pierced brows and winked at me.

I sit down on the floor next to the couch, since it was all occupied, and hear a dissatisfied sound coming from Kuroo's mum.

"Now, now, sweetheart. You don't have to be shy around me, just go on and take your usual seat next to Tetsuro," she says, nudging her head in Kuroo's direction, where the only vacant spot was literally his lap.

I look at her with wide eyes, even Kuroo seems taken aback by her suggestion, and all the boys are immaturely ‘oohing’ loudly as they laugh and make fun of us.

Kuroo makes a gesture for me to come next to him, so I hold back my heavy sigh, try my best to hide the flush on my face, and walk towards him, awkwardly perching on his knee.

He chuckles as he grabs my waist and pulls me flush towards his chest, my butt in the corner of the couch and my legs resting diagonally over his, so that my head is directly in the crook of his neck.

I hate to say it, but this is actually really damn comfortable.

Conversation has started up again, but it becomes secondary to the beat of his heart right under my ear, and my eyes start to get heavy as his scent and warmth lull me to a comfort that is beyond being awake and alert.

---

Kuroo's POV

"What a cute girl she is, Tetsu. I'm so glad you've found her. And now that you've got her, you better. Not. Let. Go." She says, slapping me on the arm with each word of her last sentence.

What is it with women and slapping me?

"Ok, ok, I know mum, I won't stuff this up. I promise," I respond, smiling at her.

"Ok, well, I'm staying over at Kenma's house. Ah, no objections. You've already got your hands full, and I don't want to be in the way of young love. Plus, I'd rather listen to Kenma's midnight streams than you two in the middle of the night," she says, not accepting my objections and giving me a knowing look. My face warms to what she's insinuating, and I mutter a quick, "it's not like that," as I duck my head into Y/n's shoulder.

By this time the boys have all left, Kenma's downstairs waiting in his car for his mum to come, but she insisted on staying back for a few minutes to talk to me.

Y/n fell asleep a while ago now, still nestled on my lap, her head on my shoulder and her figure keeping me warm.

"I know exactly how it is, my darling. I've seen how you two act, pretending to be in a relationship just so we don't ask any uncomfortable questions. I won't meddle in your life, I never did, Tetsuro. But I will give you advice I expect you to consider. Don't let her go. Neither of you were pretending about your feelings towards each other, let me tell you that much." She says, knowingly looking at me.

I look up in alarm, which quickly morphs into a nervous laugh. She's good, I'll give her that much.

But, can Y/n really mirror my feelings?

"Ok darling, better not leave Kenma waiting any longer. I'll visit again tomorrow, or you can come over to Kenma's, whichever you prefer as long as she comes along too. I want to get to know my future daughter-in-law better!!"

With that, the woman who took me in and treated me like her own left my home.

I look down at my roommate, taking in the way her lashes are long enough to brush against her face, the way her brows are just a tad bit asymmetrical, the stroke of her nose and the bend of her cupid's bow.

I can't help but bring my hand up to caress the side of her face, content to stay here forever.

Mum would've loved her.

This thought broke the dam that held back my tears since middle school, and as they fell down my face I couldn't help but think of my own mother, coming in and hugging her, making her famous pie that I can't remember the taste of anymore. A sob racks my figure and I all of a sudden find a pair of e/c eyes staring up at me, my tears having dampened some parts of her face.

Wordlessly, she straightens herself and wraps her arms around my neck, running her fingers through the back of my head, stroking down towards my nape and up again. I cry into her shoulder, tears that I've bottled up, emotions I've ignored because I've had my dad, my grandparents and the Kozume's. Later, I even had the team, and they all followed me to the racing gig, a place where I can express my emotions through the reckless driving that could claim my life any second. I should have been grateful. Instead, the pain of her absence never ceased.

I clutch the back of her sweatshirt as I cry and cry and cry, eventually tiring myself out and running out of tears.

With dry sobs still racking my body every few minutes, she finally leans back, cupping my face in her gentle hands.

"What's the matter, Kuroo?" She whispers, looking up at me with tears shining in her own eyes. "You can tell me anything, or you can say nothing at all. Either way, I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you," she says, touching her forehead to mine and closing her eyes. She stays here for a moment before moving to get up and drag me up too.

"Come on, let's get you into your pjs and into bed. It's getting late."

---

Your POV

Now in his usual shorts and singlet, I drag him to his massive bed, opening the neatly made bed and gently sit him down.

His hazel eyes follow me as I go to close the curtains, his lashes still wet from the countless tears he shed, his body still hiccupping with dry sobs.

Once I've put his blankets around him, I go to leave, muttering a goodnight as I leave.

"Y/n," I hear before I close the door. I peek my head in, "please stay."

Without a pause to think about his request, and already in my own pyjamas, I go next to him and crawl into his open arm as if I've been doing it every night, snuggling into his shoulder once more and wrapping my arm around his chest.

After a few moments of silence, he begins to speak in a raspy tone, "she's not my real mum. She's Kenma's mum, and I've... I've called her mum since I was around 7," he takes a deep breath before continuing. "I moved in with my dad and grandparents next door to the Kozumes when I was 6. I was nervous and shy back then. You wouldn't even recognise me because of the 180 turn my personality's taken. Kenma was even more social than I was. He was my first friend, and when I got him into volleyball and we met Coach Nekomata. That man inspired me to be the man I am today, and was the main reason why I joined the volleyball team in high school, and made friends with the guys. He did what my mum should've, supported me and gave me the confidence to live my life," he says, his voice cracking with the last word. I hug him tighter, knowing not to say anything as of yet.

"I just wish... I wish she didn't go. I wish she could've met you, Y/n. She would've loved you even more than Kenma's mum does," he confesses with a chuckle, sniffling and turning towards me to look me in the eyes.

"She would've seen the way I was around you. The different man I become. You make me a better person, Y/n. I find myself wanting to be better for you. I could never thank you enough for that. Please, never leave. Just stay with me, and I'll always be here for you," he says, repeating the same words I said to him earlier.

I can't help the smile from taking over my features and I lean in to kiss his nose, his eyes, his cheeks and finally I press my lips against his, something I have been wanting to do for a very long time.

"I will, Kuroo Tetsuro. I'll always stay with you."

A/n: So, I don't actually know if his mum passed away or if she left them, so I kind of just,, did both ?

Taglist: @3daa & @itsgiorgiaz

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

#racer!kuroo #haikyuu x reader #haikyufics #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyu imagines #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurou #haikyu angst #haikyuu drabbles #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu au #kuroo angst #kuroo comfort #kuroo fluff #kuroo au

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jjmaybanksblog · 4 years ago

Text

Bruises- JJ Maybank

Request: hi❤ I was wondering if u could do the scene where the pogues see JJ's bruises?

Word count: 2,455

Warnings: mentions of physical and verbal abuse.

“We gotta be done before my scholarship interview in the morning.” Pope explained to you and Kie as he pulled up to the back of the Chateau. “Okay, well, we gotta focus.”

“It’s gonna be fine. We got John B and JJ inside the well, and me up top. You, Y/N, and Sarah will be outside transporting.” Pope recalled the plan, exiting the truck.

They headed to the back of his vehicle, opening the back to grab their supplies. “That tin can hold up to like, 200-300 pounds.”

“Thanks.” Kie praised him as she unlatched the hinge.

“Uh, what for?”

“For stranding us. You know, making us make up.” Kie softly grinned as you stood next to her.

“Seriously Pope, you’re like the super glue for this group.” You complimented. “What makes you think that was me?”

Before Kie could respond, lines full of lights turned on, confusing the trio. A loud buzzing sound leading them towards the backyard.

“What the hell?”

You guys walked into the area, colored and festive lights hung everywhere. Inflatable palm trees chilled in the corner. JJ sat in a shiny new hot tub, popping a bottle of champagne open.

“JJ?” you asked as you walked up to the front of the hot tub. “What did you do, JJ” Pope asked in disbelief.

“I got a jet going straight in my butt right now. Y’all should get in immediately, you hear me? Salud!” JJ cheered to no one as he poured out a glass, only to drink straight from the bottle.

“How much did this cost?” Pope asked, already knowing the answer.

“Uh… well, with the generator, the petrol, and oh, hey, express delivery… pretty much all of it, yeah.” JJ’s words were slurred, clearly intoxicated.

Pope's jaw fell open, “all of it?”

“Yeah, all of it.” JJ confirmed, pushing his sunglasses up. “You spent all the money in one day?”

“Yeah, burned a hole right through my pocket. But I mean like, come one guys, like, look at this! Finest in jet-based massage therapy, that’s what they told me.” JJ grinned at his actions. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, watching him take another drink from the bottle.

JJ noticed the look on your face, "Y/N, what? Can’t a man have a little luxury in his life? Come on,” he flung his sunglasses off, “all this scrimpin’ and scrapin’. I mean like… guys, we- you only live once, right? Enough of this emotional shit. Get in the Cat’s Ass. Come on.”

“In the what?” Kie asked softly.

“In the Cat’s Ass. That’s what I named her.” JJ giggled to himself as he let the jets hit the back of his muscles.

“Oh, hey, yo, I almost forgot.” He leaned over and pressed a button, a disco ball lighting up and spinning around.

“Yeah, that’s right, I know. Disco mode. That’s right baby!” He cheered in excitement.

“Are you kidding me? You could have paid for restitution!” Pope raised his voice. “Or literally given it to any charity!” Kie snapped. “Guys…” You started, seeing the pain in JJ’s eyes.

“Or better yet you could’ve helped us buy supplies to get the rest of the gold out of the well!” Pope continued as JJ rubbed his eyes.

“Okay well you know what? I didn’t do that.” JJ yelled back as he stood up from his spot, revealing the new red and purple marks that littered his chest. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands.

“I got a hot tub! For my friends. I got a hot tub for my friends. You know what? No, screw friends. I got a hot tub for my family!�� JJ cried out, his voice wavering. “I got this for you.” He pointed to the champagne bottle that was already half empty.

Your eyes welled up with tears, noticing just how broken JJ Maybank was. “Guys, look what I did for you! Alright? Look at this!”

“JJ…” your voice cracked, “no, you, you both stop being emotional. It’s fine, okay?”

You marched up the steps of the hot tub, stopping at the first step, “come on Y/N, just get in.” You pulled the boy into your arms as you both cried against each other. His head rested on your stomach as you leaned your head down to rest on top of his.

“I just couldn’t do it.” JJ sobbed, his body shaking from the pain. He tightened his grip around your waist as you held him in your arms. One hand rubbed his shoulder while the other softly held onto the back of his head.

“I can’t take him anymore!” He screamed into your chest, “I was gonna kill him.”

“It’s okay baby, I got you. You’re safe with us.” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Kie and Pope joined you on the steps, wrapping the boy in a group hug. “I just wanna do the right thing.” He admitted, letting out a heartbreaking sob.

“We know.” Kie reassured him, “we know.”

One by one the friends let go of him, "you guys can finish up whatever you were doing, I'll take care of him." JJ refused to let go of your waist as your fingers softly rubbed his scalp.

'I got this.' You mouthed, your friends nodding their heads in acknowledgment. The two walked away to continue their plans, you slowly lifted JJ's head up to look at you.

"Hey JJ, let's get you out of here, is that okay?" You spoke softly. He nodded his head, slowly releasing you. You held his hand as you eased him out of the hot tub and down the steps.

"Stay right here, I'm gonna grab a towel." JJ muttered a gentle 'okay'. Sniffing to clear his sinuses. Running inside the house, you yanked a towel off the bathroom rack and headed back outside.

You wrapped it around his waist before leading him inside by his hand. Entering the bedroom, you picked out a pair of boxers and shorts for him to change into. "Do you think you can change into this without my help?" You asked him, holding out the clothes.

JJ nodded his head as he stumbled across the hall into the bathroom. You stood on the outside of the door, harshly biting down on your tongue. You've never seen JJ so broken, so hurt, and you wished you had known he was dealing with this.

You felt guilt and anger for not knowing about this sooner. Whenever JJ appeared with a new bruise or cut, he always told her that he got into a brawl with a Kook. He lied to you for 7 years, you never caught on which killed you on the inside.

After a few minutes, JJ opened the door with the towel in his hands, and changed into dry clothes. "Can we go lay down?" He questioned, his words still slurred. "Yeah, of course hunny."

He walked into the bedroom and sighed. Without thinking he plopped himself onto the bed, letting out a cry of pain as the bed hit his bruises.

Biting your bottom lip you asked, "do you want me to get you an ice pack?" He nodded his head, resting his hands on his eyes. Heading into the kitchen, you grabbed an ice tray, dumping some ice cubes out into a ziplock bag.

You walked back into the room, shutting the door quietly. JJ praised you as you handed him the bag of ice. He placed it on the biggest bruise he had. "Can you- can you stay with me? And play with my hair because honestly it makes me feel safe." He admitted, not even processing what he was saying.

You sat down next to him, allowing him to rest his head in your lap. Your fingers found your way to his hair, letting them run through and massage his scalp. You sat in silence before he spoke up. "I really, really like you Y/N. Like Really." He emphasized the final 'really'.

"I really, really like you too JJ." You spoke the truth. "You know, these last few days have been crazy as fuck. You know you've been there. But the amount of times I almost lost you scared the shit out of me." He confessed, his hand reaching up to place itself on your leg.

"And-and when we almost got shot at Crains, my soul nearly left my body. I want to keep you safe." Your eyebrows furrowed together as you listened to his words.

"But I'm a fuck up and I don't wanna ruin your life. I mean my own dad doesn't want me, why would you?" His voice cracked. You reached your hand down towards his face to make him look at you.

"Hey, don't say that JJ. You have made my life so much better in every single way possible. You show you care about me. You let me smoke with you so we both forget about our problems together. You taught me more shit about fishing than I knew. You can call me the worst names possible, but it doesn't bother me because I do the same to you. It scares me how much I like you because in a snap you could be gone. Hell, when you got arrested I couldn't sleep the night of." You rambled on, realizing that maybe you had more than a silly crush on him.

"You're cute when you ramble." He muttered, grinning at the sound of your laugh, yawning loudly afterwards. "You ready to sleep hun?" You asked, a nod answering the question. You shifted a bit, laying down as he rested his head on your chest. You kissed the side of his head, feeling his arm around your waist slowly tighten its grip.

______________♡_____________

You woke up, and checked the clock reading the time, '9:36'. Turning your head, you saw JJ still passed out, his snoring filling the room. Carefully getting out of the bed, you walked outside into the backyard and headed straight to the hammock.

You sat alone peacefully, the smell of the waters filled the air, the sounds of birds chirping softly echoed, and the feeling of a cool breeze skimmed your tan skin, sunglasses covering your eyes from the sun. Footsteps came up from behind you, a figure plopped itself down next to you.

A groan emitted from JJ's mouth, shutting his eyes from the blinding sunlight. "How's the hangover?" You asked, handing over the sun glasses. "Feels like I have forks jammed in my head. Thanks." He grabbed the sunglasses, quickly putting them on.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" You asked, fiddling with your thumbs. "Uhhh, I remember almost falling into the bathtub when I was changing. And then- oh..." he trailed off remembering parts of the conversation you had.

The two sat in silence again as JJ rested his hand on your thigh. "I wish I could've stopped that from happening." You broke the silence, your voice wavering at the image in your head of his bruises.

JJ shook his head, "No, no you-you do enough for me. I feel like I don't deserve you." He whispered the last part. Your heart clenched at his confession. "JJ, you are the best part of my life." Your hand cupped his, looking at the boy who lifted up the sunglasses.

"I want to be able to take you on dates and treat you like a princess and buy you everything you could ever want. But I'm a Pogue, that could never happen." He clenched his jaw, knowing deep down you deserve someone who could give you anything you wanted.

"JJ, I'm literally a Pogue too. I don't care if you don't have money because guess what? I don't either. That doesn't change the fact that I love you. Just being with you makes me feel safe."

JJ's mouth slightly fell open, allowing those three words to sink in. You realized what you had said before it was too late. Your facial expressions matched his as you quickly looked down at your hands. They sat there, trying to process the words you just said.

Stress flooded through your body as you waited for his response, only to continue to sit in silence. "I know that was just kinda thrown at you but please just be my best friend right now and not the guy I just confessed my love to." You spoke up, killing the silence.

"I don't want to be your best friend." He started, instantly making your heart drop into your stomach. "What?" You whispered, continuing to crack your knuckles.

"I don't want to be your best friend. I want to be your boyfriend. I want to take you out on dates. I want to do those weird face masks with you. I want to do any cliché shit you want to do. I want to do anything and everything with you. I want you to be my girlfriend so whenever we go to parties I can be like, 'this is my girlfriend' and show you off. I want more than just being best friends." He said, reaching over with his hand to hold the bottom of your chin.

JJ looked down at your lips before glancing back up to your eyes. Your heart rate picked up, "kiss me." You assured him, turning to face him. Your eyes fluttered shut as you both leaned in, connecting your lips gently. JJ grinned into the passionate kiss, not being able to handle the butterflies in his stomach.

You pulled back to catch your breaths, resting your foreheads against each other before you returned to your original position. He slung his arm around your shoulder, leaving you space to rest your head on his chest. You beamed as he used his index finger to rub up and down on your arm.

"Remember back in freshman year during homecoming, I asked you to dance with me to 'The Night We Met'?" JJ tilted his head down towards you, locking eyes. You nodded your head in response. "John B and Pope hyped me up for at least an hour to encourage me to ask you. And when you had your head on my chest and I just held you, it felt like we were the only two people alive. And I loved that feeling, I don't want it to ever go away."

Your smile got wider, remembering the moment as if it were yesterday. "It won't." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before falling back into a comfortable silence.

"Just making sure... we are dating right?" JJ spoke up earning a chuckle from you. "Yes. Yes we are."

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reachfolk · 3 years ago

Note

For the writing prompt, let's go with ruin.

request: alexandria silver-blood + "ruins" (elder scrolls writing prompts — OPEN)

summary: Alexandria's teaching methods may not be conventional nor are they always pleasant, but Lucien can't deny their effectiveness.

tags: fluff, lucien flavius, canon-typical violence, alex and lucien are still pretty new as companions so he's still Baby, lexi is an arguably good teacher, not proofread bc it turned out so long lol

warnings: none

word count: 2.3k

ao3 link: [tough love]

author's notes: for those that don't know, lucien is a modded follower who starts as a wimpy little imperial scholar and you train him to get better at combat. this was SO much fun to write, i feel like it really shows some of my fav things about lexi and her dynamic with lucien! thank u so much for the request dearie <3

The door to the old nordic tomb was jammed after what must have been centuries without being opened, but with a heavy shove, Alexandria was able to force them to give. As soon as they swung open, the smell of decay and rot overwhelmed Lucien's senses, and he found himself struggling to hold down that morning's breakfast.

Alexandria, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Instead, she took a deep breath and smiled at the smell. "Ah, I love these old tombs. You can just feel Lady Namira's influence in the air. Makes the eyes water though, doesn't it? Or maybe that's just the dust." She fanned her face, letting her eyes dry out for a moment before readying her sword in one hand and a simple Firebolt spell in the other. "You ready?"

"Uhh," Lucien hesitated. "Do I have a choice?"

"Nope!" With that, she pushed him through the doors, and he nearly toppled over. "You'll be taking the lead this time, alright?"

"What?! Me?!" He sputtered. "Are you sure that's a good idea? No, don't answer that. It isn't a good idea whatsoever."

Alexandria didn't seem to share a single one of his concerns as she placed a hand on his back and pushed him deeper into the old ruins. "It's a chance to practice sneaking and to test out that Turn Undead spell. Two birds with one stone, as they say."

"I only learned that spell last night. Who's to say it'll even work? Don't you think the stakes are a little too high?"

"Of course they are," she said in her usual, all too cheery tone of voice. "You're not going to learn anything by staying firmly in your comfort zone. Besides, don't you trust me to keep you safe?"

It was certainly a good question. In spite of how she presented herself, Alexandria was a difficult person to read. While he often did appreciate her optimistic attitude (it was certainly an improvement over the glum nature of most of Skyrim's citizens), there were more than a few moments where it almost felt like she enjoyed tormenting him. This wouldn't be the first time she pushed him beyond his limits; ever since she started training him, she seemed to make a game of torturing him and justifying it with reasons such as, "You need to learn to take a hit," or "You've got to get out of your own head." And, well... he wanted to trust her methods, but she make it quite difficult.

"If you take any longer to answer, it's going to hurt my feelings, you know."

"N-no, I don't mean to imply anything bad!" Lucien sputtered. "I'm just nervous, is all. You've been a wonderful guard and I don't mean to offend you in any—"

His ramblings were interrupted by her bursting into laughter, and the sound echoed throughout the chamber. He felt a brief panic, but it seems the sound didn't reverberate far enough into the ruins to alarm any draugr. Alexi, it seems, didn't share his worries at all.

"Calm down, will you? I was joking!" She chuckled. "Believe me, no one understands anxiety better than I do. But that doesn't mean I'll allow you to let it control your life."

Lucien had a hard time believing she of all people, in all her confidence and self-assuredness, could relate, but her words were a comfort nonetheless. "Right," he replied, letting her words sink in. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then firmly regretted it as the stench of death filled his lungs.

Alexi chuckled again at him and patted his arm. "You'll get used to it."

"I really don't want to," he said, but readied his spells nonetheless.

The pair made their way through the old ruin, crouched low and sticking to the shadows, just as Alexandria taught him. The muffle spell she cast helped them stay quiet and made it easy to make out the sound of draugr footsteps farther into the depths of the tomb.

Lucien stopped in the middle of the hallway they were crouched in and leaned his head around the bend, leading into a larger chasm. Two draugr patrolled the area, moving in circles around the perimeter.

Alexi leaned back on her haunches and whispered, "So, what's the plan, boss?"

It was strange, the way their roles were swapped. "Uhm," Lucien thought back to what Alexandria did the last time they were in this kind of situation. "Wait until they wander to opposite sides of the room, out of each other's sight, and shoot them down one at a time."

"Okay," Alexandria said simply, but the minimal response was enough to send Lucien doubting himself.

"Is that not a good plan?" He asked, unsure.

"Huh? I never said that. I told you, you're the boss here! I'm just following your lead."

"Right," Lucien muttered. "Right. Uh, I just... need to be more sure of myself."

Alexi didn't respond beyond glancing around the corner, watching the draugr.

"Right?" Lucien asked.

This time, she simply chuckled. "Dearie, how are you not realizing the irony? You're still asking for my approval. It's a good plan. Now go ahead before you start getting in your head again."

Unfortunately, his doubts already took root and refused to budge. Even as he drew his bow and had it aimed at the target, he found himself frozen in place.

After the second opening he missed due to his own hesitation, Alexandria leaned over his shoulder and whispered, "Can I give you some advice?"

"Please do."

"Great!"

She grabbed him by the neck not unlike one would grab a housecat, dragged him up from where he was crouched, and tossed him into the open chamber with the two draugr. As he yelped in surprise, the two draugr turned at the sound and drew their weapons.

The rational response was for Lucien to be angry at her for being so cruel, but in the moment, it was all he could do to bash his bow against the draugr that rushed at him with a greatsword. The attack staggered the enemy and interrupted her mid-swing, giving Lucien enough time to switch out his longbow for a sword and spell.

Just as the zombie had regained balance, Lucien took a swing, putting all his might behind it. It wasn't enough to bring her down, but as the sword connected with her shoulder, the two-handed sword she carried fell from her grasp. He used the chance to shoot a Firebolt spell at her, which sent her flying backwards, unmoving.

Before he could celebrate his victory, an arrow whooshed past his face, just barely grazing his skin and taking a few of his hairs with it. It would've sent his heart racing if the poor muscle wasn't already working at full capacity.

He turned his head to the archer, who already had nocked another arrow and shot it in his direction. He just barely managed to dodge by side stepping behind a column. There was no way he could rush at the archer with his sword, and he was clearly outmatched with a bow. Should he just try to pelt it with Firebolts, or—

Suddenly, he remembered the new spell he'd just learned the night before. It was a risk trying it now of all times, but the adrenaline rushing in his veins made it difficult to rationalize it too much. He charged the spell, then ducked out from behind the other side of the column and cast it before the draugr could even release the arrow it had readied.

The second the spell hit, the draugr immediately pulled its arrow back and turned it's back, running in the opposite direction in the signature awkward steps that all draugr take. Now that the threat of being pelted with arrows was gone, Lucien rushed at the creature and grabbed it by the back of its thin, wiry hair. He stabbed his sword through its back with enough force that it jutted out of its chest. When the creature stopped moving, he released his grip on it and let its limp body fall to the ground.

It took him several seconds to catch his breath. When his heart rate finally returned to normal, a high-pitched squeal broke through the calmness and spiked it once again. Thankfully, he realized quickly enough, it was only Alexandria excitedly cheering for him.

"Good job, Lucien!" She applauded, rushing towards him from where she watched. "Oh, I knew you could handle it!"

"I... I did! Didn't I?" It was still hard to believe he could manage in a battle with her support, so to win two-against-one was inconceivable to him.

"Obviously," she laughed, giving him a playful shove. "See what you can do when you stop freaking out? When you don't have time to doubt yourself, your real skill shows."

He couldn't help but join her in the laughter as the reality of his accomplishment dawned on him. "Does this mean I'm now a proper adventurer? I never thought I had it in me!" He puffed out his chest proudly, beaming at his companion.

"I'm well aware of that. That's always been your biggest problem," she said. "Lucien, you've gotten so used to thinking of yourself as some weak little milk-drinker that no matter how much I trained you, you refused to recognize your own progress. I needed to do something to get it through your head."

"Not to imply that I'm not grateful, because I truly am," he replied, "but was throwing me to the draugr really the only thing you could think of?"

She gave a shrug. "It's how I was taught. Well, for me it was sabre cats. And fire. Oh, and also flowers, but that one's less exciting. And plenty of harsh lessons, really. How do you think I got these scars?" To prove her point, she lifted up both arms, showcasing a large array of scars, burns, and calluses that she'd acquired over the years. They moved down throughout her body, displayed for all to see under her Forsworn armor. The injuries had accumulated so much that it was hard to tell one from the other, let alone deduce what had caused them.

Lucien was curious about it since the day they'd met, but it felt rude to ask. But seeing as she brought up the matter herself, and she didn't seem to have any discomfort talking about it, he found himself asking, "What actually happened?"

"Oh, what didn't happen?" She chuckled. Pointing at the rough shape of a bite mark on her right arm, she explained, "I got this one when Auntie Ursula wanted me to get sabre cat teeth because I'd used up her entire supply when making potions. She wanted to teach me a lesson about recognizing alchemy as more than just mixing things together. Respecting the ingredients the land blesses us with, and honoring the Hunt as a crucial part of the life of an alchemist."

She then pointed to the burn marks along her palms and fingers. "I got these when Mother Helle was training me in Destruction magic. A lot of mages hesitate to progress their knowledge of the arcane arts, so she often pushed us to lean into the pain rather than fear it. Learning advanced fire-based spells results in plenty of injuries, but I couldn't have learned them if I didn't stop being scared of getting burned. After getting lit on fire a few times, it stops being so scary. And, more importantly, you learn to control it better."

"What about the flowers?" he asked.

She held up her fingers and wiggled them a bit. They were rough and calloused, and the state of them made him wonder how she could even comfortably hold a weapon. "These were the first scars I ever got. When I first started working as Auntie Bothela's assistant—I think it was shortly after my tenth winter, she made me dethorn every single flower that was in stock at the store until my hands bled. Then she made me use those same flowers to make a health potion to cure the cuts, and then I'd start over. I wasn't so good at it in the beginning, so my skin didn't end up healing very well. But once most of the skin was scarred, it stops hurting, and it helps when working with more advanced recipes."

"That sounds... quite harsh," Lucien observed. It was odd how she described such unpleasant experiences with a bright smile, as though they were treasured memories.

"All my teachers were Reachfolk, and usually followers of Lord Hircine," she explained. "It's part of his teachings—to suffer is to learn and all that. It's not exactly the nicest way to teach, but I always found it... kind, in its own way. They were with me through every step of the way. There was never a moment of my training that I felt alone or lost."

Then, her voice grew softer, a kind of uncertainty he hadn't seen in her before. "I hope I've been that kind of teacher to you. It may not always be easy, but I wouldn't put you in any situation that I don't trust you to handle, even if you may not always trust yourself as much. And, well... I know you're still making up your mind, but I do consider you a friend. I want the best for you."

The confession made Lucien's heart swell, and he wondered how on Nirn he ever doubted her intentions. And, after today, he couldn't doubt her results. "You have been," he said. "I'm glad to have you by my side, friend."

Her eyes lit up at his words, and the sight was reminiscent of that of an excited puppy. "Me too!" she said, her voice back to its cheery tone.

With that, Lucien drew his sword again and gestured to the path leading deeper into the ruins. "So, are you ready to press on?"

She gave a salute and followed his lead, drawing her own sword. "Sure thing, boss!"

#lucien flavius #tes #tesblr #skyrim #skyrim oc #elder scrolls #cozy writes #oc: alexandria silver blood #alexi is a daedra worshipper and it Shows lol #cozy answers #moots #thanks again for the request!! it was so much fun to write #this is 100% meant to be platonic but lexi would absolutely have a puppy crush on lucien and i wonder if u can tell lmao #she has crushes on everyone tho so this is her default slkjflksj #ship: alexandria x lucien

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managedmischiefs · 4 years ago

Text

north//chapter three

here’s the new chapter!! please enjoy and leave me your feedback! as always, let me know if you want to be on the taglist by sending me an ask :)

genre: fluff, angst if u squint

pairing: season nine spencer reid x female oc

warnings: none

word count: 11.3k

SPENCER

The elevator doors pop open on the sixth floor on a bright, sunny day, and the smile on my face is the biggest it’s ever been and I don’t think there’s any way I’ll be able to wipe it off. This morning, Amelia confessed that she had never seen Doctor Who before, and then she encouraged me to ramble on and on about my favorite parts and favorite characters and she asked questions and my smile never went away, even as we said our goodbyes and through the dirty train ride. But having seen Amelia will make my day better and the walk to my desk seems so much brighter and happier than normal.

"Good morning, Spencer," Alex smiles at me as she passes my desk, setting her bag down and sending me a wave.

"Morning," I return her smile, taking the last sip of the coffee from my cup, the one from my meeting with Amelia, giving it one more longing look before tossing the cup in the trash.

Alex watches me closely as she sheds her jacket and scarf, draping it over her chair. "Weather's rough, right? It's getting really cold,"

I spin in my chair and my eyes trace up to where the wall and the ceiling meet, staring out the windows there. "Yeah, it's pretty rough out there,"

"Christmas is soon though," a smile comes to her face as she sits and takes a breath. "Do you have any plans yet? Do you think you'll go to see your mom?"

I shrug my shoulders and push away the sharp pain in my chest at the mention of my mom and at the mention of such a joyous holiday that’s supposed to be filled with friends and family. But instead, I’ll do the same things I’ve done the last few years- sit by myself at home and reread a book from my shelf. "Not sure yet. Haven't really thought about it,"

Alex hums, not pleased with that answer, and spins her chair around to face her desk. "Okay, well, don't wait too long or else you won't have any plans, and nobody should be left alone on Christmas," I choose not to respond. I just turn my chair back to face my desk and get to work.

"Good morning, wonderful crime fighters!" Garcia exclaims, bounding into the bullpen as Morgan holds the door open for her. Her bubbly attitude brings JJ and Rossi over to my desk area and even though I was trying to avoid any conversation, I spin in my chair to join the circle that forms. "I've brought cookies to lighten the mood that this horrible, horrible cold weather is reigning down on you BAU-tiful people," she grins happily at her recycled pun as she pops the top off the tin in her hand. Everyone, except for me because group food is not and has never been my jam, reaches their hands in and grabs some cookies, mumbling a few thank yous to our dear friend.

"So what's up with everyone?" Morgan asks, glancing around at the team. "We're always together but we don't always get to talk about our lives. So, come on, I know someone's got something,"

There's a moment of silence between the team where everyone wants someone else to speak up first, especially me. I wish I could duck my head down and hide under my desk because I know they will all want to ask me about what’s going on in my life and I'm not ready to tell them yet, and I’m not the best liar. I want to keep Amelia a secret. I want to keep her for myself. But if I try to make myself smaller in any way, then a team of profilers will notice immediately and I'll get called out. It's a lose-lose for me. And maybe it's irrational to want to keep her my secret. Last time I did that, it didn't end well and I’ve never forgiven myself for that. But even still, I want to keep Amelia for myself.

"Well," JJ laughs when nobody speaks up, "Will and I took Henry to the zoo for the first time over the weekend and he absolutely loved it,"

That brings everyone into a conversation and I'm glad I can let my mind wander off to Amelia. She always looks beautiful, but she looked especially stunning today. She wore plaid jeans with a black sweater tucked in, a black knit scarf, and her normal black boots. Of course, she had a black peacoat on to shield her from the weather, and the strap of her camera was slung over her shoulder instead of around her neck. Her hair was up in this messy braided updo that I don't even want to spend time wondering how long it took her to execute. Her nail color changed for the millionth time, now to a pale blue. Her necklace was almost completely hidden behind her scarf but I noticed that she wears the same one every day, a small butterfly. But today, there was just something about her smile and her laugh that made me feel extra warm inside. It made me feel like I wanted to scoop her up and bring her back to my apartment and never let her leave.

"Reid? Hey, Reid!" There's suddenly a hand snapping in front of my face, bringing me out of yet another one of my daydreams.

Everyone has vacated the area and Alex is crouched in front of me, brows furrowed in confusion. I lift my head, blinking a few times to bring myself back to reality. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Alex tilts her head, resting her arms on her legs. "Are you okay? You haven't been yourself lately. You've been a little bit distracted," she sighs and I can tell that she's wondering if she should say something. She ultimately makes a decision in her head to not say it and instead just waits for me to answer. But her holding back her thoughts frustrates me. I thought we were close so why would she hold anything back from me? When has she ever held anything back from me?

"Say what you were gonna say," I insist, sitting up more in my chair. "You were gonna say something. Say it,"

Alex chews on her lips and lets out a long breath, glancing around to make sure that nobody is too close. "Well," she hesitates one more time, "I know that you're still hurting about Maeve and-"

"No," I cut her off before she can even finish her sentence, "it's not about that. It's-" I push my hair out of my face as my breath gets caught in my throat. I take a replenishing breath and shake my head, turning back to the paperwork on my desk, "I'm fine, okay? I promise. Thanks for, uh, looking out for me,"

"Maybe you should consider going to therapy," Alex is clearly not ready to let this conversation go.

"I'm fine," I say yet again, giving her a tight-lipped smile, not even glancing her way again.

I hear Blake sigh and then walk around, seeing her sit down at her desk. There's part of me that feels bad for being so secretive to my closest friends. But I want to keep Amelia for myself. The team likes to know everything and they like to bring up significant others all the time. I don't want Amelia brought up like that. I don't want Morgan teasing me about her, or Garcia insisting on a double date, or JJ wanting to know how we met. But besides, Amelia isn't even my girlfriend. Right now, she's just a girl that I get coffee with before work. I wish she was more, but she's not.

Garcia comes back into the bullpen, holding a hoard of IPads in her arms and one case file for me. "It's case time, my loves!"

There’s a collective sigh that falls over the group as everyone pushes themselves out of their seats and towards the round table room, ready to endure another day of sadness. There’s no good day to get cases but really, there couldn’t be a worse time to get a case. Amelia and I ran out of time this morning and her story about the time her and her best friend got lost in California on a spring break vacation got cut short, and she promised to finish it tomorrow. She also swore that I could tell her all about my time at CalTech and about my favorite classes, all while she lets me fiddle around with whichever camera she happens to bring that day, even though I could possibly break it. I mean, she couldn’t get any more amazing. Technology is not my strong suit, whether it’s a computer or a phone or even a camera, but she’s still going to let me tinker with it. I didn’t think that she could get any better.

After the catastrophe with Maeve, I never thought I'd ever have feelings for another person again. I thought that I'd die alone and loving Maeve. I thought she was my soulmate. I thought that the connection we had was one in a million and that I would never connect with someone on a romantic level again. Seeing her die right in front of me was like no other death I had ever witnessed and nobody, including and especially me, thought I would ever recover from that.

As much as I don't want to admit it and as adamantly as I will deny it, I've been through a lot. Childhood aside, my work at the FBI has been grueling. I've been taken hostage, I've mourned the death of my best friend who actually wound up to be alive and I’ve mourned the death of my unit chiefs wife, I've conquered drug addiction and two relapses alone, I’ve spent months mulling over the death of my girlfriend, and I've seen more death, destruction, and horror than anyone ever should.

It's unfair, really. All I wanted to do with my life and with my career was to help people and do something bigger than myself, but in turn, I've ruined myself. And after everything I've seen and how it has changed me, I’ve been expecting to work myself to death and die alone. I'm a loose cannon and it's obvious. I try to keep myself reined in, but I know that won't last for long. The years that I’ve spent at the FBI have imprinted on my brain and I thought that Maeve would be my refuge, but she was ripped away from me. Then and there, I knew that I would never love again.

But then Amelia waltz's into my life. She comes bouncing in with her black heels, vintage cameras, tea bags, nose piercing, beautiful smile, and melodious laugh. She makes me feel like a normal person. She doesn't treat me like an FBI agent, or like someone who has endured the traumas that I have, and maybe that's because I haven't told her about any of my trauma, but I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can. Amelia comes laughing into my life with her denim skirts that aren't appropriate for the cold weather, curly blonde hair wrapped in patterned scarves or tied back in scrunchies, love for red wine, entrancing blue eyes, and her affinity for strawberries.

It's impossible to not fall in love with her and I hate myself for that. She makes it incredibly easy, so maybe it's not my fault that I can't get her out of my head. Maybe it's not my fault that I look at the empty spot on my desk and wonder what it would be like to have a picture of her there. Maybe it's not my fault that I hold her pinky in mine for far too long when we say our goodbyes. I wish I could blame my feelings all on her. I wish I could blame Amelia for how fast I'm falling for her.

I fall in love with the energy she radiates. I fall in love with the way she speaks of her creative process while painting a new piece or drawing a new picture. I fall in love with the way she claims she has a foolproof formula for finding hidden treasures in any given thrift store. I fall in love with the way she always has a new story to tell yet listens to every word I have to say. She speaks with such passion and fire in her eyes that it draws me in. Amelia has even taken to setting an alarm on her phone to make sure I leave on time for work and every few days, she makes sure to show up before I do so that she can order both of our drinks so that it's not always me ordering for her and "wasting my money on her hot, flavored water."

Amelia and I keep up our morning coffee meetings for two months. We meet as much as we can, only taking the time off when I'm not away on a case. It's actually normalizing my sleep schedule too and I'm getting more sleep than I have in two years- or since Maeve died. When these meetings started, I used to not be able to sleep out of pure excitement of knowing I'd be able to see Amelia again. But then she started to text me the night before, sometimes to remind me to set an alarm so I'm not late or to remind me to bring a magic trick to show her (magic tricks are now common occurrences in the mornings) or to just tell me that she's looking forward to seeing me tomorrow. It’s always an odd sensation to get that third text because most people aren’t usually excited to see me.

The word date never surfaced in any of our conversations. I'm not sure if any of these meetings would be considered a date. Typically, dates happen at night, but these coffee meetings are happening bright and early in the morning. And maybe I'm too scared to even bring up the word date because then that will solidify what we're doing, if we even are doing anything. I'm too scared to admit that I'm falling way too hard and way too fast for Amelia.

But as terrified as I am of the way that I feel about Amelia, I wish so desperately that I wasn’t. I wish I could climb to the roof of my apartment building and scream at the top of my lungs that I’m falling in love and that I want everyone to know. I want to be able to see her outside of the confines of a tiny cafe just a block away from my apartment. I want to be able to see her out on the town, laughing and bouncing on her toes in the adorable way that she does. I want to do anything else in the world with her besides just sitting and drinking tea or coffee. I want to know even more about her. I want to know absolutely everything. I need to know everything.

ONE WEEK LATER

SPENCER

"So you got shot in the knee?"

"Yeah. The doctors told me that I might never walk without a cane again,"

"I'd like to see you with a cane," Amelia snorts, tucking her face behind her cup of tea as she succumbs to a fit of giggles. The sight makes me laugh too, trying to hide my joy behind my cup of coffee. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. It's just-" she takes a long breath to calm herself, and, with a giant smile, she continues, "an FBI agent with a cane? I can't picture it,"

"Well, I wouldn't be allowed in the field. As much as I thrive in the police departments, I love being in the field. It gives you a rush, you know?"

"Mm, no. I don't know," Amelia laughs, "but I can imagine what you're talking about. An adrenaline rush. I've never caught a bad guy in action like you do. I mean, the closest I've ever come to that is catching one of my siblings stealing cookies late at night,"

A fond memory comes to mind, one involving a dinosaur-shaped cookie jar and a little hand. "I've caught my godson doing the same,"

"So, Spencer," Amelia's voice is lighter as she moves away from the previous topic of me taking a bullet in the field. She shimmies her shoulders just a little bit, then gestures to the Christmas drawings on the window. "Do you have any plans for Christmas next week?"

Oh, the dreaded question. Each of my team members had asked me that during our case last week and I had to lie every single time. I don't want them to feel bad for me when I tell them I don’t have any plans and I’ll be spending Christmas alone. Alex might try to invite me to dinner with her family, and JJ would probably do the same and swear that Henry had been asking about his godfather, but it's just out of pure pity. I don't need any more pity from my team.

"Um," I have to keep my voice from cracking as I drown out myself in a sip of coffee, "no,"

"No?" Amelia repeats, but her face doesn't change at all, not like she’s sad or she’s pitying me. "Me either. I told you, my family's in Texas and I'd only be able to go out there for two days. So as much as I'd love to go, it doesn't really make sense, you know?"

"Yeah, that makes sense. My mom is in Las Vegas so I know what you mean,”

Amelia looks down at her cup of tea, fiddling with the teabag. "You know, if you don't have anything to do on Christmas, maybe we could spend the day together?" She suggests, glancing up at me with a nervous smile. "I was planning on spending the day alone but if you also don't have anything to do, maybe we could do something together," she goes quiet for a moment and I wait, wondering if she's finished with her request. Or maybe it’s just that I’m speechless and I have absolutely nothing to say in response to that request. Yeah, that’s more likely. She, again, looks down at her cup and I can see her fingers shaking slightly as she toys with the teabag. "And besides, I love our little coffee dates but it'd be nice to see you outside of here,"

And there it is. It all comes out with just those few sentences. Not only does Amelia see these meetings as dates, but she wants to see me outside of the cafe. She wants to spend Christmas with me, a day that you usually spend with your family or your closest friends. She was so nervous to ask me about this that her hands are shaking. When has this ever happened? Usually I'm the anxious one. I'm the one here who does the nervous laughing and fumbles over my words and taps my feet and fiddles with my hair. She's usually the one who takes charge of the conversation and laughs louder and initiates our pinky hold when we have to say goodbye. Being anxious is my thing and if Amelia is taking that over, then that must mean that this request took a lot to say.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," she adds quickly before hiding, again, behind a sip of her tea.

I’ve let myself hold back with Amelia for far too long- for two whole months. I’ve gone two months without growing some balls and asking her out and I can’t handle it anymore. I need to see her with a different background behind her other than a tan leather booth. So I don’t give myself a moment to think or stress before I speak. "I'd love to,"

Amelia's eyes dart up to me and her smile starts to grow. "Really?" I nod wordlessly, too scared that I'll say something dumb and ruin it if I open my mouth. "I would've thought you'd say no," The alarm on Amelia's phone goes off, telling us that it's time for me to leave for work. She gives me a sad smile and silences it, chewing on her lip. "Time for you to go. You've got people to save, Dr. Reid,"

The two of us stand and wrap ourselves in our coats and scarves before heading out the door, into the bitter, cold wind. Amelia turns on her heel and holds out her pinky to me. I switch my coffee to my left hand and wrap my right pinky around her, watching her nose start to go pink from the weather surrounding us. Amelia smiles, and the timer in my head starts to run, counting up the seconds we stand in front of each other and just smile. We’re already standing here longer than yesterday but not as long as Tuesday two weeks ago. And the longer we stand here, the pinker Amelia’s nose gets, and the more my heart melts.

"Get warm soon," I tell her softly, worried that if I speak too loud, I’ll ruin the moment.

"You too," she smiles, wrapping her finger even tighter around mine as a way to tell me not to leave just yet. "I know you'll let me know if you have a case. But if you do," she lets out a breath, dropping her smile until her dimples disappear, "get home before Christmas."

///

I inhale deeply and brush my fingers through my hair, trying to make it seem somewhat presentable as I turn the corner to Amelia's apartment, double-checking that I'm at the right one. I smooth down my sweater and check that my converse are tied twice before knocking on the door. I can hear music from inside her apartment but I can't tell exactly what the song is yet, but based on what today is, I can only assume it’s a Christmas song.

I wait patiently for a moment behind a closed door, still second-guessing my slightly more casual outfit of converse, jeans, and a Christmas sweater. And after only a minute I'm convinced that Amelia has backed out and doesn't want me around for this sacred holiday, and I’m almost convince o turn around and leave. Maybe I could walk home and find a bookstore and get some takeout. I'm about to do just that and I’m mentally mapping out the best route home when the door swings open and Amelia stands there with her stunning smile.

"Hi, Spencer!" She exclaims, popping the door all the way open and letting me feel the heat that radiates from the inside. "Come in, please," Relief washes over me as I step inside her warm apartment, my eyes darting around the walls and decor of her home. "You can just put your stuff anywhere. It doesn't really matter to me. Make yourself at home. Be comfortable," I recognize the song now as It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas, playing from her beloved record player that I’ve heard a surprising amount about. She bought it when she first moved to Virginia and it was the first thing she bought for her apartment, before she even bought a bed or food or utensils.

I pull my messenger bag off and set it beside the door, ridding myself of my peacoat and my scarf, hanging them up on the coatrack. Amelia is still standing beside me but before I take the time to admire her like I usually do, I really stop to look at her apartment. It's exactly how I pictured it to be. It reflects her personality perfectly.

The walls are comprised of dark brick and there are different pieces of artwork scattered along the walls of her entire apartment, like stray photographs and polaroids put up with wash tape, or a canvas painting in a frame, and a floral tapestry behind the television. To my left is a huge shelf of books and records followed by a wall full of picture frames with pictures I can only assume are of her family and friends. To the right of the door is a cozy looking living room with a tv and the active record player, and a fireplace with a log already lit. Beside the living room is the kitchen, and across from the kitchen is a set of floating stairs that leads up to what I presume is Amelia's bedroom. In front of the stairs is a door out to a small balcony overlooking the city.

"Hey," Amelia reaches over and pokes my shoulder, laughing, "stop profiling my apartment. I cleaned up for you, there can't be too much for you to judge,"

"Profiling isn't actually judging, per se," I blurt out facts before I can stop myself. "Profiling is actually just noticing behavior,"

Amelia crosses her arms over her chest, etching on a smile. "Sometimes I wonder how your head isn't physically bigger with all that information you've got stored up in there. Really, it keeps me up at night sometimes," she says quickly, and then rolls her eyes at herself. She gestures towards the kitchen, "Well, I've got- oh, Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas,” I echo, following her into her kitchen, trailing just a step behind her.

As she walks in front of me, I get the chance to admire her. Today, she's decided to wear a black and white plaid tweed skirt with a red knit turtleneck tucked into it. Her legs are bare otherwise but she's wearing dark wool socks with a pattern on them, almost identical to the ones I’m wearing. Her hair is down in curls and flowing down to her waistline, but there's a green clip on the left side of her head that's holding back some of her hair. Her face is glowing, like usual, and her nose and ear piercings are in, like usual. It takes me a moment to realize how much smaller she is now that she's not wearing the heels she always has on. I'd peg her at around 5'2" and that's a major difference with me at about 6'1”. But even though I’ve observed countless outfits of hers, she's just as beautiful today as she is every other day.

"So I thought that, since it's only noon, we could make some Christmas cookies," she suggests, showing me her kitchen island full of cookies and bags and ingredients. "I have ingredients for quite a lot of cookies because I meant to make them myself but never got around to it. I have ingredients for gingerbread cookies and sugar cookies and oatmeal cookies and probably way more,"

"Sounds good to me. I like all of those,” The thought of making all those cookies with Amelia sounds much better than sitting and doing nothing. I don’t have time to make cookies like this on my own and I didn’t get to have any of Penelope’s, so making cookies with Amelia sounds like the perfect way to spend Christmas.

Amelia sits down at a barstool and gestures for me to sit beside her, and it’s a weird sensation, for a split second, to be sitting beside her instead of across from her. She reaches for a bag of flour and a bowl, but her hand stops midair when she looks over at me and a smile breaks out on her face. "I like your sweater,"

I glance down at my sweater, just shrugging at my own appearance as if I wasn’t freaking out about it ten minutes ago. "It's just a sweater," It’s one that I’ve had for as long as I can remember and one that could probably pass as ugly, but it has a pattern with snowflakes and stripes and reindeer. I almost didn’t wear it because I thought that maybe Amelia would think it was ugly.

"But Spencer, I always see you in your work clothes. You're always wearing sweater vests and button-ups. You're still wearing jeans and converse but the sweater is a change. I like it, that's all,"

She turns her back to me to grab something else and her compliment makes me chew on the inside of my cheek. I wipe my hands on my pants before I take a deep breath. You can do it, Spencer. You grew enough balls to accept her Christmas invitation. You can do this. "I like your outfit," Oh thank god I managed to say that without sounding like a total idiot.

When Amelia turns back around to set the sugar on the counter, she's blushing. "Thanks,"

I read over the recipes she has printed out and then set them aside, standing up again so I can attempt to start helping her. We decide to start with the Pillsbury sugar cookies since all we have to do is put those in the oven, so we start arranging them on a tray.

"I should warn you," I mumble to Amelia as we bump hips, "I'm not the best baker,"

"It's not too hard," Amelia says nonchalantly. "I'll give you some tips. A smart man like you can pick it up, don't worry, love,"

The simple pet name makes me blush but we're both so preoccupied with putting the frozen cookies on the tray that Amelia doesn't notice. The simple pet name makes my heart beat faster and almost burst out of my chest. Once the cookies are on the tray, she puts them in the oven and then turns to me.

"Okay, which cookies do you wanna make first?" She grabs the recipes and holds them up for me to see as if I hadn’t looked at them before.

"What do you think we should do?" She looks up at me with her big, beautiful eyes, and I almost get lost for a moment, but I pull myself back when she rustles the papers again. "I've never done this before and you seem to have a lot of experience so-"

"You've never made Christmas cookies before?" Amelia gasps, the papers falling onto the table as her jaw drops in disbelief, and I shake my head at her. "Okay, then we're gonna make gingerbread cookies first because they’re a classic. They're my favorite and they're the most fun to decorate so hopefully you’ll like them too. I can't believe you've never done this before!"

She whips around and starts to assemble a new set of ingredients, telling me now and then how much to measure out, even though I've memorized the entire recipe. But nonetheless, I let her take the lead and take the previous cookies out of the oven.

"Okay, come here," Amelia says when my back is turned to her. She has the gingerbread dough rolled out on the island and a few different sized molds laid out, flour caked on her hands. "Getting the dough onto the pan is an art itself," I let out a little laugh, but then she turns her head with a threatening look as if to say I’m serious, that isn't threatening at all. "I'm serious. First, you've gotta use the mold to cut. Then you've gotta wiggle the mold. Then you've gotta get the dough off the counter and that's the hardest part because if you didn't put down enough flour then you’re screwed. It's an art. You laugh, but it's true,"

"I believe you," I put my hands up in surrender, reaching for one of the molds. I stand beside her and it takes me a moment to process how close I actually am, and I only do when I feel her body heat on me. "So, like this?" I push the mold into the dough and then wiggle the plastic back and forth until it's completely separated from the mass of dough, just like she told me to. But then when I lift the mold, the snowflake-shaped piece of dough completely lifts and folds over, ruining the dough. I let out a defeated sigh, looking up at Amelia with a dramatic pout, silently begging for help. "It is an art,"

Amelia giggles, bopping my nose, and I can feel some flour residue getting left there, making me scrunch up my nose. "Yes, it is. I'm glad you've realized, let me help you,"

///

An hour passes and we've finished baking all the gingerbread men, we're baking chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, and we've eaten half of the sugar cookies. We're chatting aimlessly about anything and everything and I'm starting to really actually enjoy this. I’m happy to be seeing Amelia outside of the cafe and I’m happy to be so comfortable with her, and to see her literally and metaphorically let her hair down. I thought I would be riddled with anxiety and would have to make some excuse to go rushing out, but now I don’t think I ever want to go home. I would be content with never leave this artsy apartment and making cookies with Amelia for the rest of my life.

"I'm gonna try to make you but as a gingerbread man," Amelia says as she sits down with a piping bag full of icing and half of the gingerbread men. I've got the other bag of icing in my hand and the other half of the gingerbread men in front of me, waiting to be decorated with far less finesse than Amelia’s cookies.

"You're an artist. You've got an unfair advantage," I pout yet again, starting to make uneven lines and lopsided eyes on my cookies. I grimace at my creations and my pout only grows when I glance over and see that Amelia’s look perfect.

"It's not a competition," Amelia responds, not even looking up from her interpretation of me in gingerbread form. "And remember what I said, everyone sees art differently. There’s no right or wrong in art,” she lets out a small squeal and then throws her piping bag down, leaning closer to me to show me the cookie. “Look! It’s you!”

The gingerbread man has an attempt at curly hair along with a button-up shirt, a tie, slacks, and converse. Honestly, the cookie version of me is pretty cute, but maybe I’m biased because Amelia made it. Amelia is elated at my pleased reaction and goes on to decorating more cookies, so I prop up her creation and keep on going.

I settle into my barstool and keep my eyes down, swinging my feet back and forth. There's a question on the tip of my tongue that I'm too scared to ask. It's been there for weeks. But this question implies follow up questions about me and I don't want to risk that. But I’ve been pondering this question since I met Amelia and I think that I would be willing to risk the follow-up questions if it means I get some sort of answer.

"Amelia," I say quietly, earning a hum in response, "I have a question,"

"Yeah?" She's soft-spoken, clearly focused on her cookies.

"Why don't you talk about your family?"

I look up just in time to see her grip on the piping bag falter, and she has to readjust her hold. But before she can do that, her hand reaches for the butterfly necklace that's forever around her neck and she tugs on it gently. That tells me that the necklace has a connection to her family, I just don't know how. Nope. Stop it right there. She told me when I came in to stop profiling her, even though it was clearly a joke, I shouldn’t start doing it now.

"I, um," she lets out a breath and lets her eyes wander behind me, presumably at the wall of picture frames, "I just don't really like to talk about my family," that's all she says before she goes quiet. She readjusts her grip on the piping bag and goes back to work, deciding the conversation is over. Heat rises to my cheeks and my anxiety increases when I realize that my curiosity has gotten the better of me and I’ve ruined the good thing we have going on here with that simple question. So I just decide to shut my mouth and keep decorating my cookies. "You don't talk about your family either,"

It’s the question I was dreading, but it’s the one I was expecting. So I just shrug my shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. "You're not the only one who doesn't like to talk about their family,"

Amelia doesn't respond to that. It's one of the first times in our two months of knowing each other that I've seen her act shut off. The only time she ever acted out of character was asking if I would come over today, and she was only a little bit nervous for a few minutes. She's always so bubbly and open to any question or topic I have, so to have her sitting as close as ever but feel so far away is frustrating and the need to fill the grave I just dug myself.

"Amelia, I didn't mean to offend you with-"

"No, it's okay," she shakes her head, once again, her fingers adjusting around the piping bag. "It's a common thing that people talk about and I've never brought it up and you're a profiler so naturally, you would bring it up. It's fine, Spencer. I promise,"

"It doesn't seem fine. You're not even looking at me,"

"You're profiling me again," Amelia responds, her voice wavering.

I put my piping bag down and move closer to her, gently taking hers out of her hand and placing it down on the table. "Amelia, I-I didn't mean anything by it. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to,"

She looks up at me and I can see that her eyes are glassy, and it stings to know that I’m the one who made her feel like that. "I’m sorry. I didn't mean to be doing this on Christmas," She sniffles, reaching her fingertips up to wipe at her under-eyes. I have an overwhelming need to comfort her back to happiness, especially since I made her so unhappy. So even though my hands shake in the slightest, I hold my arms out towards her. Amelia notices right away, her eyebrows raising. "Seriously?" I nod. "You won't shake or hold my hand but you'll hug me?"

"You need a hug so I'm here to give you a hug,"

Amelia’s face lights up and she steps forward, wrapping her arms around my waist tightly. I circle my arms around her shoulders and tuck her head under my chin, smiling at the way she fits perfectly under me. This is comfortable and I feel warm and when she wiggles her body to get closer, it brings a smile to my face. I feel safe. I haven't felt like this is a long time. I might never want to let go, but I think Amelia might have the same idea.

"Does this mean I get to hug you more often now?" Amelia mumbles into the fabric of my sweater. "Don't get me wrong, I love our pinky promises but I also love hugs,"

My eyelids flutter closed and I nod against her head. "Yeah, we can hug more often," I flatten my hands on her back and pull her closer. "I really am sorry about asking about your family,"

"Well, I brought yours up afterward so it's fine,"

We're only pulled apart when the timer on the oven dings and lets us know that the oatmeal cookies are finished. I reluctantly pull myself off of her and grab the oven mitts, pulling the tray out while Amelia returns to frosting her gingerbread men.

"Hey, Spencer?" Amelia calls as I'm scooping cookies off the pan. "Do you have any information about gingerbread men in your big genius head?"

She asked, so I answered. I go off and tell her how gingerbread men date back to the 15th Century and how the first documented use of them was at the court of Elizabeth I. I go on for maybe ten minutes about the history of these edible men and maybe it's more than she was bargaining for, but she never interrupted and she listened to the whole thing. That's rare these days. Even my closest friends on my team cut me off constantly and sometimes tune out my facts.

"I didn't know any of that. School really doesn't teach students anything they wanna learn about," Amelia laughs, adding two more gingerbread men to the pile of cookies.

We finish creating our mountain of different types of cookies at around 4 so we decide that we should start making dinner, that way, we can relax the rest of the night and not have to be rushing around the kitchen. The sun starts to set and the snow starts to fall as we set out on a new adventure of cooking dinner. Amelia goes to turn up the heat and I notice her take a moment to pause in front of the balcony doors to stare out at the fresh blanket of snow. But the second she turns and comes back to the kitchen, I whip my head down to the lasagna recipe in my hands to memorize it. Yet again, I decide to let Amelia take charge of this recipe because I would rather not mess it up.

///

We pop our tray of lasagna in the oven and then set a timer for the proper amount of time. "Alright," Amelia says, clapping her hands together and bouncing on her toes, "that'll be done in about twenty-five minutes. So maybe we could watch a movie? We've been baking all day so it'd be a good idea to get off our feet,"

It’s a no brainer to agree to the suggestion and I follow Amelia into her living room like a lost puppy with his tail between his legs. She gestures for me to sit on the couch while she drops to the floor in front of the tv, sitting up on her knees to shut off the record player. Then she pulls out a wicker basket filled to the brim with movies. "What are we watching?"

"I've got plenty of Christmas movies because they're my favorite. I've got ones like," she holds up the case to each movie as she names it, "Polar Express, The Grinch, Home Alone, Elf, Love Actually, A Christmas Story and way, way more. Plus I've got the claymation ones like Year Without a Santa Claus, Rudolph, Jack Frost, Frosty the Snowman, and Santa Claus is Coming to Town," she looks up at me. "So which one do you fancy, love?"

There's that damn pet name again.

"Um," I let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of my neck, "I've actually never seen any of those before so I guess just put on your favorite,"

Amelia's eyes widen. "You've never seen any of these before?" I shake my head with a coy smile, my cheeks turning pink. "Wow, I guess it's my turn to educate you, Spencer. I might never get the opportunity to do this again so I'm going to take advantage while I can,"

Amelia jumps to her feet and pops one of the movies in the DVD player. She doesn't tell me what it is but she grabs the remote and comes to sit next to me on the couch. She's not too close to me but she's close enough to make my hands sweaty. I lean down to unlace my shoes and set them aside before getting myself a bit more comfortable on the couch, but not too comfortable. I’ve overheard far too many arguments between Morgan, JJ, Emily, and Garcia about how sitting too close to girls in moments like these can make a guy seem like, in Garcia’s words, a douchebag. And the last thing I want is for Amelia to think I’m a douchebag. So even though I feel I’m a mile away from her with just a couch cushion between us, I don’t move to close the distance.

"I put on The Polar Express because this is one of my favorite Christmas movies of all time," Amelia explains as the main menu comes up and shows the opening titles. "It's a good intro to Christmas movies, I guess, I don't really know,"

"Sure," I nod enthusiastically. "I like learning, I'm ready to watch. Go ahead, play,"

Amelia presses play and then reaches behind her for the blanket draped over the couch. She folds it over her lap and then glances over at me, holding up the corner of the blanket. "Do you-" she trails off, asking me if I want to share. I nod, scooting just a bit closer so we can both comfortably fit under the blanket. Our thighs are touching and it takes everything in me not to cuddle up even closer to her. She invited me over here so she must not think I’m a douchebag, right? This is okay, right?

The movie starts and it's quite different from the movies I'm used to watching. But I can tell it's a movie that has sentimental value to her so I pay close attention to it. It’s not filled with history or framed with subtitles or spewing information at me to instantly memorize. It’s just a lighthearted children’s movie that celebrates Christmas and teaches kids to not let others judge you and to believe in what you want to believe. I would have never watched a movie like this without Amelia and the longer I sit through the movie, the more I wish it wouldn’t end.

But eventually, I lean down to whisper in her ear. "None of the kids have names. Only Billy does,"

Amelia giggles, her head tilting closer to mine but keeping her eyes locked on the tv. "Yeah, you're right. I'm not sure why, they just don't,"

I hum, looking back up at the tv, not completely satisfied with the answer but willing to accept it. I try to focus back on the movie and figure out why these kids are sliding down tiny conveyor belts but I feel Amelia's eyes on me, locked on the side of my face. My attempts to ignore her gaze go in vain because I'm looking back down at her within another minute. She's looking up at me with her bottom lip between her teeth and her blue eyes widened, eyelashes fluttering. She looks horribly stunning and I fear I let my eyes linger on her lips for too long.

"What?" I whisper, wondering why she's staring at me when she should be watching the movie, a movie she claims is one of her favorites.

"Nothing," she says, but makes no attempt to break eye contact with me. "Nothing, I just-" she trails off yet again.

My hands had been placed at my sides but I can't help it when one of them moves to Amelia's cheek, barely even touching her soft skin at first, too afraid that she would flinch. A part of me is almost surprised when she doesn't pull away, but why do I keep getting surprised by her? She's remarkable. She asked me to spend Christmas with her so I wouldn't be alone. She cares about me in some capacity. She's showing me her favorite movies and baking cookies with me and she cares about me. I care about her and she cares about me. Why am I holding back?

"Can-" I clear my throat nervously, "can I kiss you?"

Amelia's eyes flutter for a moment before she nods, tilting her chin upwards. For a moment I think she's going to initiate the kiss, but then she doesn't. She just waits there, leaving me to feel her warm breath on my face and her cold skin under my fingertips. But she respected my boundaries when it came to handshakes and hugs, so even though I've already asked and she's already accepted, it makes sense that she would respect my inevitable boundaries with something as germy and personal and bacteria-filled as a kiss. So that means I have to finally take charge and I don't even have time to figure out if that terrifies me or excites me.

With my hand on her cheek and my heart about to beat out of my chest, I draw her forward and press my lips to hers in the softest and sweetest, most wonderful kiss. She tastes sweet, like strawberry lip balm and gingerbread, and I find my senses being filled with the taste of her. My brain had intended for a simple kiss, but after said simple kiss, I had to have more of her. Amelia doesn't resist as I deepen the kiss, bringing my hand to her neck to bring her closer. Her hands start at my chest but eventually travel up to my jawline, fingertips resting there softly, just barely coaxing me forward. Our lips move perfectly in sync and I could swear, as cheesy as it sounds, I feel burning on my skin from the fallout of the fireworks that erupt above us. I feel Amelia smile as she shuffles a bit closer to me on her knees, her body making even more contact with mine than before when we were just sitting.

My mind is screaming at me to pull away, to push her off of me and run home and curl up in bed, and to ignore Amelia forever. My head says to shield her from this horrible part of the world that I expose myself to and to protect her innocence. That's all I want to do. I want to protect her. As it often does, my head says no but my heart says yes. I can't deny what I'm feeling for Amelia. I can't deny that I haven't slept over my alarm for two months because I'm far too excited to see her every morning at the cafe. I can't help the way my heart speeds up when she walks in and waves at me, or the way I can't help but beam when she laughs, or how I don't want to leave when the alarm on her phone sounds. That's what leads me to wrap my free arm around her waist and bring her chest to mine, the fabric of her sweater clutched in my fist and my lips fervently sliding against hers.

The sharp cry of the oven alarm is the only thing that can get us to pull apart, far too quickly for either of our likings. Amelia pulls away with a sharp inhale, her eyes closed for just a moment longer than mine. "I'll-" she moves one of the hands from my jaw to wipe at her bottom lip, "um, I'll go get that,"

Amelia begrudgingly untangles herself from my arms and then from the blanket around her legs, feet silent on the floor as she hurries to pull the lasagna out of the oven. I'm left on the couch for a moment, completely stunned and actually quite pleased. I’ve never been kissed like that. I didn’t even know I could kiss like that. I didn’t even know I had it in me. But once the momentary shock wears off, the tension sets in and I know I need to follow Amelia. I reach up to pause the movie so we don’t miss anything before following Amelia into the kitchen, seeing her close the oven as she places the tray of lasagna on the stove. Her cheeks are flushed but I can't tell if that's from the kiss or the heat from the oven.

The apartment is tense now that it's silent and Amelia's back is turned to me. Despite the obvious verbal consent, I fear I've ruined everything. I asked to kiss her and even though she accepted, she's quiet. She's busying herself with dishing lasagna and I'm realizing that the only other time she acted this shut off was when I asked about her family. Does that mean I need to apologize again? Oh my gosh, I really don’t know how girls work. I’ve already upset her twice in one day and made her act in ways I’ve never seen before. Maybe I should have listened more when Morgan complained about his girl problems. You know what? Maybe I won’t apologize this time. I’ll try a different approach.

"That wasn't-" I mumble, lingering in the entryway to the kitchen, "weird, right? That didn't totally ruin things, right?"

Amelia's hands pause mid-air for a moment but then she continues dishing food. "No, it wasn't weird,"

Okay, Spencer. If you've ever needed to be bold, now's the time. She obviously likes you and you've accepted that you like her too and that you don't want to lose her, and right now, you're losing her to whatever her brain is telling her. Don't let that happen. Do something.

"So," I take a step closer to her and place my hand on her waist, spinning her around to face me, "so you wouldn't mind if I kissed you again?"

Amelia doesn't even respond, she just grabs my cheeks and kisses me again. I instinctively push her against the counter and hold her there, my hands clutching her waistline as her hands start to thread through my hair. This kiss is needier than the first one, almost as if it's solidifying to both of us that we're really doing this and that these feelings are actually mutual. That the first kiss didn’t scare either of us off and we’re not going anywhere.

I'm the first to pull away when I run out of breath, but I have not a single intention of moving away from her. I still feel Amelia's lips brushing mine and her warm breath fanning across my face, delicate fingers pushing my hair off my forehead. It's shaggy and falling over my forehead, but she arranges it perfectly so it's out of the way. She smiles nervously at me and then she shrinks, and I realize she had to go on her tiptoes to kiss me. "I, um," she laughs, letting her hands fall to my shoulders, "I've had a crush on you for a while. Like, since we first talked,"

I slide my hands down to her hips, feeling the rough tweed fabric under my fingertips. "Really?"

"Yeah," she smiles bashfully. "I thought you were really cute and I may have walked into you on purpose because I was too scared to approach you when you were reading,"

My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the realization that the camera fiddling was just a ruse. "What?" Amelia giggles, ducking her head into my shoulder to hide her blush from showing. "No! No hiding!"

"It's true!" She pulls her hands from my shoulders and covers her face. "You were reading and you were doing it so fast and I was confused at how you were actually retaining the information and you looked so cute with your hair up like that and I wanted to talk to you but I didn't know how to. When you got up, I just walked over and then grabbed my camera and-" I grab her wrists gently and pull her hands away from her face. Amelia's face is bright red in embarrassment but she smiles as I slide my hands into hers and lace our fingers together. "I thought you didn't hold hands,"

"You also thought I didn't hug or kiss until tonight," I remark, bringing our hands down to our sides. I lean in one more time and press our lips together, and this time the kiss doesn't need to be quick or passionate or wet. It's slow and sweet. It fills me with the familiar warmth that only Amelia has been able to provide me with.

"You're just full of surprises," Amelia giggles, twisting her head to kiss my cheek. "We should eat before it gets cold, right?"

"Yeah, probably," I don't want to let go of her but I reluctantly do, letting her continue her task of dishing lasagna for the two of us. We resume our positions on the couch, sitting even closer than before. Amelia rewinds the movie quite a bit, making sure I’ve seen every frame that we missed while we were engaged in other activities. She claims she doesn’t mind seeing it again, that she watched this movie last week anyway so rewinding it for me isn’t a big deal at all.

I do my best to pay attention throughout the rest of the movie like Amelia wants me to do, but it's proven to be a challenge. All I want to do is look down at the angel sitting beside me and kiss her and play with her hair and talk to her about any topic that might pop into my head. But she's fixated on the movie and I don't want to tear her away from something that she's so invested in. So I stay silent and sling my arm over the back of the couch in an attempt to get more comfortable. I do it unintentionally, but Amelia takes this as an invitation to cuddle up beside me. She brings her knees up to her chest and rests her head on my shoulder, effectively tucking herself into my side. I'm not complaining, because even though I wasn’t intending to do the ultimate douchebag move and basically silently invite her to cuddle with me, I’m not complaining. I grin for the rest of the movie.

///

"So did you like it?" Amelia asks eagerly, sitting up on her knees as the credits rolls, an expecting grin plastered on her face. "I know you're used to watching movies in different languages and-"

"It was pretty great, actually,"

"You're not just saying that because I told you it's one of my favorites?"

"Not at all. It bothered me that the children didn't have names, besides Billy, but other than that, it was a wonderful movie. I can see why you like it so much," I tell her. "And it's only seven. Are we gonna watch something else?"

"Well," Amelia chews on her lip, pulling away from my embrace slightly as she plays with the hem of her skirt, "the depends on you. If you wanna head home, I know you have work tomorrow and-"

"Actually," unintentionally, I cut her off yet again. But she looks up at me with bright eyes, hopeful that I'll want to stay, "I don't expect that you got me anything but I brought you a gift,"

I quickly leap up to avoid seeing her reaction, returning to my messenger bag in the doorway, reaching in for the perfectly wrapped gift. I spent hours on the floor of my bedroom wrapping the present, and then unwrapping it when the paper creased, then wrapping it again, then unwrapping it when the paper ripped, and then finally leaving the wrapping after what seemed like the millionth try. It was a process but it was worth it because it looks absolutely perfect.

When I return to the living room, Amelia is gone. I sit down with the gift in my lap, assuming she'll be back soon. And sure enough, she comes bounding down the floating stairs a second later. "I did actually get you a gift," she says, jumping back onto her spot on the couch. "Just something little," I pass my gift off to her and she does the same with me until we're holding each other's presents. It's odd actually, because I've given and received gifts with my team and with my mom, but never like this. Never with a girl I have a massive crush on. Never with someone who I care on another level for. Never with a girl who seems to put the sun in the sky.

I gesture for Amelia to go first, placing her gift in my lap, to be opened next. She gives me an excited smile and nods, obeying my quiet warning to hold it carefully as she searches for a spot to pull the paper back. "They're-" she pulls the paper clean off and beams, "45's,"

"Yeah," I nod anxiously as she reveals my present. "You told me you love records and this bookstore I love sells records too. I found these and I thought of-" I clear my throat, "well, they made me think of you,"

Amelia looks through the small stack of records in her hands, narrowing her eyes at me. "Most of them are classical, Spencer,"

"You need more classical music in your life, Amelia," I sass back at her, earning a small scoff in returning, bringing up a small quarrel we had a few weeks ago. "You can't spend your days listening to Christmas music, Frank Sinatra, and Taylor Swift,"

Amelia glances up at me with a small pout. "I could try,"

I laugh, pointing to the records in her hand. "Well, now you don't have to,"

"Thank you, love. This is wonderful, really. I'm gonna put one of these on right after you open your gift," she places them on her lap and then points at the present in my lap. "Go ahead. It's your turn."

I tear back the wrapping paper and first find a pack of coloring pencils, which seems like an odd gift, considering how many times I’ve established that I’m bad at art, but then I find a black leather journal behind it. Upon further inspection, I find that there are drawings on the front of the journal. My name is written in beautiful calligraphy on the top of the cover, and all around the front are small pictures. I find things like coffee cups, cameras, a deck of cards, an imperfect square with the pattern of one of Amelia's scarves, a record player, beakers, plenty of books, and much more.

"It's a sketchbook," Amelia explains softly. "You were saying how you wish you were better at art, so now you have the means to practice. And I was thinking about when you go on cases and you could bring it with you and I tried to put things on the front that would maybe, I don't know, comfort you." She pauses and I look up at her, waiting for her to continue with what she wants to say. Because just by the tight-lipped smile on her face, I know she wants to say something else. "Selfishly, I put references to me on there,"

I set my gift onto the coffee table and then move the records aside, pulling Amelia into my arms again. She happily accepts this embrace, arms circling my shoulders. "I love it," I tell her. "Thank you. I'll definitely bring it on cases with me. I can't ensure that anything I draw in it is good, but-"

"But you've got a pretty great teacher right here."

///

Amelia watches with an overly dramatic pout as I button up my jacket and put my scarf on, glancing out the window to check out bad the snow is. She crosses her arms over her chest as I put my messenger bag over my shoulder, making me laugh. "Don't make me feel even worse for leaving,"

"If I make you feel really bad, will you stay?" Amelia practically begs, even though she's already reaching for the doorknob. She knows I have work tomorrow and I have to be up early. She opens the door and then leans against the frame, still clearly not ready for me to depart.

"Hey, why don't you sleep in tomorrow? We don't need to meet up tomorrow morning. Get some extra sleep. It's almost midnight,"

Amelia's pout grows. "What? But what if you get a case? Then I won't see you for a few days, at least,"

"Then," I hadn't entirely thought this through because she totally has a point. WWDMD? I know exactly what Derek Morgan would do. Of all the times I’ve thought about Morgan today, I know exactly how he would respond in this situation. I reach out to grab her waist and pull her into a half hug, smiling, "then I'll make it up to you by taking you out on a proper date when I get back,"

Amelia's smile grows and she starts to nod. "That sounds like a plan," she goes up on her toes to kiss me but her lips only brush mine before pulling away again. "What if you don't get a case? Are you still gonna take me on a date?"

I put on a pensive face that makes her laugh. "I'll think about it," I press my lips to hers, unable to handle the short, torturous distance anymore. The kiss doesn’t last nearly as long as I want it to because we’re standing the hallway at midnight where anyone could catch us, letting the heat out, after a long day of making cookies and watching movies, and it’s absolutely freezing. So when we pull away, I have to will myself to not groan or grimace.

"Let me walk you out," Amelia hums, grabbing her keys before walking out with me. Our pinky's interlock as we walk down her apartment hallway, towards the door outside. "Will you text me when you get home? I just wanna make sure you get home safe," we stop in front of the door and she wraps her arms around my waist. "I know you're a fully capable FBI agent and all but it's late and I worry about that stuff,"

"Of course I will," I hug her tightly, pressing my lips to her cheek. "Thank you for inviting me over. I would've just been sitting alone and reading books all day without you,"

"Thanks for coming over," she echoes, pulling away from our ultra-warm hug and letting a chill run down her spine. "I would've watched movies alone all day. So thanks for being with me. I'll miss you tomorrow,"

"I will too, but I'll text you when I get home and I'll talk to you tomorrow to let you know if I get a case or not,"

"I'll be glued to my phone," Amelia winks at me, getting me to laugh one last time for the night. "Now go, before it gets even later."

“You go back to your apartment first. I know it’s right there but I, uh,” I glance behind her, down the dim hallway, “I worry about that stuff,”

Amelia smiles in the most smitten way I think I’ve ever seen, and for once, I think I’ve actually done something right. “Yeah, okay,” she nods, and she pushes herself up on her toes to kiss my cheek on more time. “Bye, Spencer. Merry Christmas,”

“Merry Christmas,” I echo, watching her scurry back to her apartment and unlock the door, stepping into the warmth. Her head pops out once more and she sends me a wave, blowing me a kiss before she disappears. The air I exhale reverberates off the wall and the smile on my face is undeniable, even as I dance on the cusp of frostbite during my walk home. A girl like that is mine? A girl like that who blows kisses and bakes cookies all day and cuddles during movies? She’s mine? Amelia is mine. She really is and as soon as that thought echoes in my head, a laugh escapes my lips. I must be the luckiest man alive.

hello there! if you’re still reading here then please tell me your favorite snack!! plz im v hungry thank u sm okay here’s the taglist

TAGLIST

@etheralgubler @babybobbybones @whollytaciturn @reidswords @thegingerfairchild @matthewreid @shrimpyblog @garcias-batcave @anamelessfacelessnerd @nastyhar @gublergirls @mandapanda8

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #nikos north fic

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lostinwildflowers · 3 years ago

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STOP I ALMOST FORGOT TO SEND IN AN ENTRY FOR UR EVENT BYE anyway i suppose it's not late yet bcz i guess it's around 10:15 pm for you ?? anyway ksjdfjsfd pls ignore if it's closed. i'm v proud of you fot hitting 600, mrs. sugawara :› as for the intels :

name : inez

fandom : haikyuu

about me : starting with, i'm infj & gemini, and i'm usually v calm and collected but i can get crazy with people i'm super close with. also i tend to perceive things logically than emotionally and all, yea that was unnecessary. not very good at starting conversations, also i don't take part in one unless it catches my attention. however, i can go on about something i like for hours. i'm somewhat of an organized person and, i take punctuality a lot more seriously than expected. also also, i like talking abt random things ?? at the most random times ?? like we can be doing our works and i'll just come up to you and start rambling about the new flower i saw at the florist downstreet. i just have a lot of talk about such insignificant & minimalistic things, it might annoy some people but i like talking about them ksjdfjhsdf anyway, that's it i guess ? i hope that helps

prompt : ok ok look i was about to write this but let's see ur take on this. so let's say me n the person u match me up with start dating because we're 'tired of finding' love yea?? and it isn't supposed to be a serious relationship. but one day we were just hanging out and it occurs to one of us that they're fallen for the other and now they're panicking ( you dont need to give the confession part, i just want the realization one yk, like, when the feelings hit )

anyway, congrats again!!

I match you with...

Ushijima Wakatoshi!!

Things weren't ever supposed to be this serious, and you weren't ever supposed to fall this hard. But Ushijima had a kind and shy way about him that just left you wondering, thinking, and dreaming about him.

You had just gone over to his place one morning, bringing over some bagels from a local bakery with an assortment of cream cheeses and jams that you could try. Ushijima mumbled, "You didn't have to bring all of this, there's plenty here."

You kissed him on the cheek and whisper, "I know, but the blueberry one was just screaming your name so I had to grab it." Ushijima gave you a small smile at that, wrapping you in a tight hug and placing a gentle kiss on your temple.

It was in that moment, feeling safe in your lover's arms did it hit you. People in casual relationships didn't go food shopping for each other. You swallow thickly as you try to relax your muscles, and when Ushijima pulls away, you can feel your heart melt at the soft look in his eyes.

"Thank you for the bagels. Do you want to split one or should we try all of them?" He asks gently, his green eyes dancing away from your to look over the brown paper bag on the counter.

Your mind was short-circuiting, the only thought in your head being I love you. Ushijima stops and looks at you, surprise lacing his features as he replies, "I love you too."

Nezzie... You should have come to Shiratorizawa... I'M JOKING!!!! ...unless?? Please I hope you like this😂😂 I just think Ushiwaka would panic internally if he realized he was in love with someone<3

#shoyotime #Nezzie!!#ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi ushijima

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ten0rreaper · 4 years ago

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Here’s my entry to the @pnatsecretsanta for 2020! @quarktrinity, I hope you enjoy! It’ll be crossposted to ao3, link will be in a reblog. Thank you for your patience!

Isabel: hey so

Isabel: when are u going to get here

Max: wat?

Max: its xmas ev

Isabel: you really need to get a new phone

Isabel: and remember? youre supposed to come to my place tonight, wait it out

Isabel: max?

Isabel: if you were spacing out again im going to kill you

Isabel: you WERE doing the face again now that i think about it

Max: u guys ned 2 mak imprtnt info cler. Y i spcd

Isabel: you need to listen! this time mr spender remembered to tell u and everything. youre not allowed to be mad at us this time

Isabel: in short, get ur butt over here before midnight. sneak out if u need to, thats what isaac does

Isabel: in long, if u dont santas gonna kill u

----

“Let me get this straight.” 11:30 P.M. December 24th, 20XX. Max sat in Ed’s room on a chair hastily drawn up, with a jacket pulled hastily over his pajamas and hat still jammed on his head, massaging his temples. “Santa’s real, he’s a spirit, and he hates all spectrals and is coming to kill us?”

“That’s a bit of an oversimplification, but yeah,” Isaac said, and Max shot him a glare. He could hear that smugness. “So like, there’s a lot of spirits that kinda grow from ideas humans have, right? I don’t know what’s up with Scrapdragon, but like, Muse came from the ideas around ancient Greek muses, like his name. They can be really off base but still have the same ideas- like Lucifer, Mr. Spender’s spirit, is just some lightbulb guy, but Lucifer does mean light and stuff, so they can just be along those lines. But like, a LOT of kids believe in Santa and think about him a lot, so there’ve been a few spirits that manifested around the idea of a guy who can get anywhere to deliver presents to good kids and punishments to bad ones, especially with stories like Krampus too.”

“But most spirits can’t interact with humans, so this guy mostly goes around to other spirits and ghosts and stuff,” Isabel said, distracted by her attempts to spin her umbrella like a top. “So he likes spirits a lot. And we kick a lot of spirit butt,” she punctuated this with a particular spirited spin of the umbrella, “so he hates us and comes to try to kill us every year. And because he can teleport, he can get inside the barrier. So gramps makes us all stay with him until sunrise every year so that all the adults can fight off santa and his reindeer so we don’t get put in a sack and teleported somewhere.”

Max groans and tries to fall backwards in his chair, but the chair doesn’t budge. “Your paint really isn’t good for drama,” Max informed Ed.

“Don’t be so dramatic then,” Ed snickered. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Says you, You just stay at home all night. I have to sneak out! My dad’ll kill me if he finds out!”

“I just put a pillow in my blankets and it’s fine,” Isaac says with a shrug. “If your dad looks harder than that, we probably have a tool lying around that can wipe memories or something.”

“I don’t want to mind wipe my dad,” Max grumbled, but resigned himself to slumping grumpily in his chair to watch Ed play some punching game or whatever. Bad enough that his own baseball bat might want to eat him, and he was trapped in this town with no way out- now Christmas hated him too.

Isaac caught his eye and smiled sympathetically. “You get used to it,” he whispered.

“I thought I was used to it a month ago.”

Max jumped as a knock on the door sounded, glaring at Isabel’s laughter. The door opened without waiting for a response. Mr. Spender poked his head in through the door with a goofy grin. “Alright, kids! You all ready for this year’s Christmas night?”

Ed didn’t even look away from his video game, waving lazily. “We could use some snacks. That’d be nice.”

“Yeah, where are the snacks, old man? You want us to starve?” Isabel waved her umbrella at him like a grumpy old woman might a cane.

“You’re well fed enough already. I made sure of that.” It spoke wonders to how used to this existence Max had become that Mr. Spender knocking politely had scared him, but Isabel’s grandpa floating through the wall didn’t. The man’s bulk and imperious gaze still caused him some anxiety, though, and he had to consciously remind himself that he’s a punk, he’s cool, and he doesn’t respect anyone’s authority, even a scary ghost’s. Yeah, totally.

The atmosphere of the room quickly shifted, and Isabel’s eyes dropped. “Yeah, I was just joking. Sorry, Grandpa.”

“Joke or not, this night is too much effort to make light of. My students and I are putting ourselves at risk for you,” Mr. Guerra said, looming over the room, “so only vocalize a need if you need it.”

Isabel glowered at the carpet. “Alright, Grandpa…”

“So. I will ask again. Are you all prepared? Midnight strikes soon.”

“We are, sir,” Isaac said. Max fought not to pull a face at Isaac’s please pay attention to me, authority figure tone, but for once it was helpful, so whatever. He could let it slide.

Mr. Guerra eyed Isaac. “...good. We’ll get you once the sun begins to rise.” And with that, he turned away and slid down through the floor. Max could already hear him barking at the pupils below.

Mr. Spender grimaced. “Well… good! Everything’s all set then.”

Isabel grumbled, picking at the carpet.

“...trust me,” Mr. Spender said, forcing audibly fake cheer into his voice, “This isn’t a hassle at all. You guys getting stuffed into a sack- now, that would be quite the kerfuffle!”

They all stared as Mr. Spender slowly deflated. “...sure,” Max said. “Uh, we’ll be good, stay up here, it’s fine.”

“Great.” Mr. Spender nodded, stared awkwardly for a moment, and stepped out the door. “Well, Merry Christmas, children!” He shut the door behind him. Max listened with the others as his footsteps hurried down the hall to the stairwell.

Silence reigned for a few minutes, a distinctly uncomfortable experience for Max. It was almost impossible not to ramble, and he was reaching his breaking point and about to open the floodgates of inane and overly verbose chatter when Ed, thankfully, took point.

“That sucked,” he said simply, and Isabel groaned and fell back.

“I hate when he does that!” Isabel laid her umbrella by her side and waved her hands in the air exasperatedly. “It’s like he has no in between and I’m always either The Best And He’s So Disappointed In Me For Not Being Perfect or A Helpless Kid He Needs To Do Everything For! He always gets like this tonight!”

Ed paused his game, and reached around to pat her on the knee. “I mean, we could prove him wrong. We beat up spirits all the time, how hard could this be?”

“Okay, hold up, hand on,” Max said. “No? I- this is a terrible idea, you just got finished telling me about how if I wasn’t here I’d be killed by Santa, and now you want to go out there and fight Santa?”

“Well, not Santa,” Ed said. “Duh. He mostly just sends his reindeer to do everything and hangs out on rooftops.”

“And no offence Max, but uh…” Isaac scratched the back of his head.

“You’d totally get killed if you were on your own.” Isabel flipped herself upright. “All you got is that dinky bat, and magnet powers. You can’t even do a spec shot, dude, you’d get thrown in a sack in no time. We’d be fine.”

Max crossed his arms. “Alright, screw you too.”

“But other than that… that sounds like it could be pretty fun.” Isabel grinned. “Show the old man and his big dumb deer who’s boss. Maybe then he’ll stop coming to Mayview every year.”

“That would be pretty nice actually.” Isaac was clearly thinking hard- he had his broody face on. “I would like to stop having to sneak out every year. Sooner or later my parents will notice.”

Max shuddered. “Actually, yeah, Isaac has a point. I don’t want to die to Rudolph or anything, but if we keep having to do this, I’ll die to my dad, which is way worse honestly.”

“Your dad’s a teddy bear,” Isabel said, and rolled her eyes. “Stop complaining.”

“You haven’t seen him when I fail a test!”

“So are we going or what?” Isabel was already pulling her jacket back on, tucking her umbrella firmly under her arm. Ed bounced on the balls of his feet with a grin, already eyeing up the window and painting himself a rope.

Max looked at Isaac, who shrugged and got to his feet. Max sighed, and stood up, regretfully leaving his scooter on the floor. “Yeah, alright. We’re going.”

Well, Max was regretting this. He was regretting this so much. He tromped through the snowy woods, eternally grateful for his boots. “Why in the world do we have to fight the spirits of Christmas in the woods? Why can’t we do it in town, or like, on the road at least? The roads we salted. The roads wouldn’t be as cold.”

“Cuz we’d get caught, dummy,” Isabel snorted. Or maybe it was a sniffle. “Either someone from the dojo would hear us and yell at us and get in the way before we can prove anything, or someone in town would yell at us and call the cops or something.”

“Maybe having people nearby to help isn’t a bad thing? You can’t just say that after saying that I’m the most likely person to die!”

“You came out here anyway,” Isaac pointed out, and looked all too unaffected by Max’s glare.

“I hate you. I hate you with everything in my being you- you chump elf.”

Isabel laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, this place looks pretty good, huh?” She stopped, looking around the snowy clearing they’d come into and turning in place. She nodded, satisfied. “There’s room to fight here, and we could come up with some pretty solid traps. Isaac wouldn’t have to worry too much about blasting a bunch of trees.”

“Looks pretty good!” Ed pulled off a mitten with his teeth and dug his paint brush out of his pocket. “What’re you thinkin, Izzy? Tripwire? Net?”

“Let’s go net,” Isaac said. “They can fly.”

“Plus, last time you tripped Isaac, remember?” Isabel elbowed Ed in the side. “Max and I are pretty fast, but Isaac needs some help.”

“Please. I can jump higher than your house is tall.”

“But you still fell just flat on your face,” she cooed. Isaac grumbled, cursing her just loud enough for Isabel to overhear, but she just batted her eyes and paid him no mind. “Okay, so,” she said, looking up at the sky through the hole in the canopy, “we probably only have a few more minutes before one of the reindeer finds us-”

And that’s when a dark shape, faster than cheetah and twice as forceful, barrelled into Max. And off he went, hanging by the hood of his jacket on a wicked sharp antler prong, into the sky and away to the sound of jingling bells.

----

Things were quiet this year, Richard reflected. It was honestly a relief- maybe the spirit had finally given up. Probably too much to hope for, but, Christmas miracles and all. In any case, there seemed to be plenty of time to get the kids some mugs of hot cocoa and cookies to wait out the night with.

“Need any help balancing those?” Day asked, and Richard felt his mood become momentarily strained.

“Actually, that would be nice, if you think you could.” The tray of mugs and cookies he was balancing was quite the challenge, after all. Day reached up and somehow grabbed the plates of cookies perfectly- Spender could swear he saw her eyes flash for a moment, smart woman- and left him to balance the four mugs. A much easier task now.

“I really thought things would be more eventful, with how much Francisco was fussing over it, but everything’s pretty quiet, isn’t it?” Day smiled and followed Richard’s footsteps to the stairs.

“Well, usually there’s more cause for it, but the spirits seem to be laying low this year. Not an unwelcome reprieve in the slightest, but I do worry about Max… if this isn’t the new status quo, I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

“He’s a- well, he seems like a really smart kid,” Day reassured him. “I think he’ll make sure to be careful next year too!”

“I hope so. He does seem resourceful, but… he can be reckless.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she said, before stopping with a small frown on her face. “They’re being pretty quiet…”

Spender listened for a moment himself. “Hm, they are… mayhaps they went to bed early?”

“That doesn’t sound like them.”

“No,” he said, dread creeping into his heart. “It doesn’t.”

He set the tray of cookies on the floor. He approached Ed’s room. He knocked.

He opened the door.

Richard’s lips thinned into a grim line as he surveyed the dark room. “They’re gone.”

------

Max screamed for his life as he was lifted faster than he could process into the sky. It was a clear, starry night, and they all looked like streaks as his captor circled through the sky, closer and closer to the top of the dome before colliding headfirst into it. Max didn’t have any more air in his lungs to scream as he was jostled loose and began to fall down, down- only to be caught again, this time like a sack of potatoes on the spirit’s back. He was overwhelmed by the sound of silver bells as he caught his breath, eyes screwed tightly shut.

Eventually, his lungs rallied to his call, and he was able to take in an unpleasant few gulps of animal-scented air. Max cracked his eyes open a peek- and immediately shut them again. Too high. He was way, way too high up. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest, and the wind burned his face and the tips of his ears.

Hold on.

“My hat,” he wheezed reaching one hand up to grope the top of his head. “My hat’s gone!”

“Soon that will be of no matter.”

Max screamed- even he was getting fed up with his own screams at this point, but instinct didn’t seem to be on the same page.

“Quiet,” the rumbling voice said, and the spirit turned to look at Max. “Your sounds irritate me.”

The spirit that held Max on its back was by far the biggest deer of any Max had ever seen. It was shaggy and majestic, even as its fur was electric yellow, and its huge rack of knife-like antlers shivered as if they were made of candle flame. Its many eyes blinked, and it beared serrated teeth- a stark contrast to the many silver bells that seemed a part of its pelt. Max looked away, avoiding its cruel gaze, to see three pairs of legs, hooves thundering over empty air. And below him, seven more enormous shapes were blazing their way towards the distant forest clearing, led by an eerie red light. “Oh no, oooooh no, no no no no no no…”

“But yes, child. At last you have been retrieved, and soon your friends will be as well. Then, you can all face your punishment.” The spirit laughed cruelly. “I am Dasher, and I was simply the herald.”

“So you’re just, you’re just Dasher? Like from the poem? One of those things down there is…” Jeez, this was surreal. “...Donner? And, Vixen?”

“Many tremble in fear before those names. It would do you right to show some respect.”

“What? No, nobody does! You guys are like, goofy little stop motion dolls, man, how’d you guys end up looking like this?”

“Our powers are untold by your human poems-”

“Aren’t you guys based on the poems?!”

Dasher snorted and tossed his head in anger. “That is an egregious oversimplification-”

“I thought your name was Dasher, not Dictionary.”

The spirit cried out in frustration, and Max felt something in him settle a bit better. Poking things with words, he could do that. Just don’t look down. “So, uh,” he began, shifting a bit so it was less like he was thrown over Dasher and more like he was riding him, “why am I not in a sack yet?”

“Our pilot is attending to his annual business in Mayview,” Dasher growled. “It is we who have the ability to fight and fly- so it is we who collect naughty children. Once your compatriots have been obtained, then we may return to our stations.”

“Wow,” Max drawled. “I can’t believe Santa needs his reindeer to deal with three preteens.”

“You do have a teenager within your ranks. That does provide some extra challenge.”

“Whoa, wait, really?”

“Yes. He cannot fully be counted as a child by our pilot any longer- he has aged enough to become a teenager. It is not he that we seek.”

“Wow, that’s weirdly arbitrary and nitpicky.” Max was so going to tease Isaac about this later. If he didn’t, well, get thrown into a sack and… baked into a pie? Eaten alive? Thrown into a dungeon? Whatever. Try to be positive.

“If you take issue, you may air your complaints to our pilot.”

“Taking it straight to the manager, alright.” Max stared at his hands, balled in bright yellow fur, and took a deep breath as he relaxed them. He wasn’t going to fall, he was certain Dasher wouldn’t allow him, channel a Karen- and he released the fur, balancing on the spirit’s back with only his legs. Before he could lose his nerve, he swung his backpack off his shoulder and grabbed his bat. Okay, weapon acquired. Just… what to do with it.

Dasher huffed. “Puny weapon. Even with the power of an enslaved spirit, you cannot defeat me. Especially not with a spirit as weak as that one.”

“Ugh, not you too,” Max grumbled. At least this thing wasn’t getting aggressive. “I’m kinda tired of being called the weak one, it’s getting old.”

“It would have been better, then, if you had kept your power to yourself, and not bothered the true denizens of this world, as the other child does.”

“Other child-? You know what, I don’t know what you’re talking about and I do not care. Now let me think.” Max re-gripped Dasher tightly, this time grabbing the reigns, and looked around. Man, of course Max got magnet powers in the place where there’s no tall buildings anywhere- it would be great if they could pass by a skyscraper or two for Max to attach himself to. But alas… then, his eyes caught a gleam, a dark silhouette against the colorful lights of Mayview.

A transmission tower in the woods. And they were heading right for it. Max shrugged his backpack back on to his shoulder and gripped his bat as tight as he could.

“Thinking will get you nowhere, child.”

“Yeah, but it’ll keep me quiet,” Max mumbled.

“True,” Dasher said. And started to turn back towards the clearing.

“No!” Max yelped, holding his bat out desperately- he knew the tower was too distant still, but he put all his will into the bat, trying to extend its power as far as he can-

Dasher lurched beneath him with a confused cry, the bells jangled, and Max’s focus was broken with a shout. Immediately, Dasher steadied beneath him.

“Child, if you do that again I will throw you off into the ground-”

“What- I don’t even know what I did-” Max’s breath caught as he realized what happened. The bells. They were metal, and he had what was definitely a terrible idea. But it was his only idea.

Quickly, before Dasher could retaliate, Max activated his bat. Dasher howled with rage as all the bells in his body strained in the direction of the magnetic center, and Max laughed with panic.

“RELEASE ME AT ONCE-”

“No,” Max said, filled with thrill and panic, and directed Dasher back towards the clearing. The spirit barrelled towards it at supernatural speeds, a furious scream echoing through the night as he crashed into the snow like a comet. Max tumbled off of the spirit’s back, and the bat’s angle changed wildly, forcing Dasher in mad circles.

The other seven deer spirits, crowded in the woods, were as thrown into chaos as Isabel, Ed, and Isaac were, but Ed recovered fastest. “Max!” He crowed, head popping out of the snow. “You’re alive!”

“Somehow!” Max laughed, voice squeaky with panic. “For now!” In the corner of his eye, he noticed another spirit- a large one that was on fucking fire, so must be either Comet or Blitzen- and quickly swung his bat around to point at it. Dasher was forced to charge full speed into the other spirit, which dissolved into a wisp with a cry of shock.

Isabel whooped. “I can’t believe it! Magnet powers are good for something!”

“Serves you right!” He felt about to shake apart, and still dizzy from the crash, but spinning Dasher around like a top was easy enough- and the other jingling spirits were drawn in too. It was a glorious explosion of color, sound, and christmas spirits as one by one they melted each other away into whisps. Finally, only Dasher stood in the snow, puffing furious, cloudy breaths into the air.

“You will pay,” Dasher hissed. “Naughty children. You will not escape your punishment, this I swear to you.”

“Whatever you say, bub,” Ed chirped, and raised his scythe above his head.

“Wait!”

Max and the others turned back to look just in time to watch an arrow streak through the night and imbed itself in Dasher’s forehead. “No, no,” he groaned, watching Isabel’s face light up with glee.

Agent Day and Mr. Spender ran into the clearing, both panting and exhausted. “Thank goodness we found you,” Agent Day breathed, hands on her knees. “We were so worried that you were taken…”

“But I saw Dasher fall from the sky!” Spender’s chest heaved, and he swayed with effort, but he somehow managed to stay upright. “I’m so glad you’re all alright, even Dasher alone is quite the challenge to combat…”

“Nah, we got all of them.” Isabel grinned and punched her palm. “Max was able to yank ‘em around by the bells with his bat, and he got em all to poof each other. It was really easy to hit ‘em when they were all clumped up, too.”

“You- you really beat them all? Where are their tools?!”

“Right here, Mr. Spender!” Isaac called, arms full of a few rocks and sticks. “They’re, uh, not much to look at, but…”

“Amazing! Wonderful job, all of you- these will be great for the club’s stores!”

“But you shouldn’t have snuck out. We were so worried about you, and you’re glad we found you! Your grandfather is worried sick!” Agent Day wrung her hands together, cane stuck in the snow.

“Yes, he’s… not happy,” Spender admitted. “But, surely he’ll be proud when he finds out what you’ve accomplished?”

“Probably not,” Isabel sighed, sticking her hands in her pockets.

“...probably not.” Spender came over to put a hand on her shoulder. “But, for what it’s worth, I am.” Isabel looked up at him, then threw her arms around him. Spender smiled softly and hugged her in return.

“This is great,” Max groaned. “But I’m being crushed by a flippin’ reindeer, so can I get some help?”

Oblivious to Max’s irritation, Dasher continued licking Max’s hair life the reindeer he resembled. “You’re not so bad, I suppose. Resourceful child.”

“It always happens to me.”

“The arrow will at least last the night,” Agent Day said thoughtfully. “It should be safe for you to go home, in that case- you too, I think, Isaac! Since all the others are gone, after all… Maybe Dasher can take you home!”

“Nooooo!”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Ms. Day,” Spender said. “You could perhaps take Isaac and Ed back to the dojo, and I can take Isaac back to his home…?”

“Yes sir!” Day smiled. “Merry Christmas, Max, Isaac,” she said. “I hope you get back undetected.”

“Thank you, Ms. Day,” Isaac said. “You too.”

“You guys suck,” Max grumbled.

----

It took a bit for Max to wrangle Dasher into taking him home, but under Day’s spell, the spirit was a fairly easygoing ride. As Max climbed back in through his window to his undisturbed bed, he heard the spirit settle on the roof to keep watch for the sunrise. And, taking comfort in not being discovered and in the knowledge that next year, when he’s a teen, he won’t have to worry about any of this, Max changed back into his pajamas, settled into bed, and slipped into a deep sleep.

#jakalwrites #paranatural #pnatsecretsanta #pnat #paranatural secret santa 2020

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