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callsignspark · 1 year ago

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February 25th is now National Tease Bradley Day, everyone please mark your calendars. it was so fun to write from his pov now that we know exactly how they feel about each other, full on yearning and lusting!! Mary seeing Bradley's baby pictures before she even met him - siri, play invisible string by Taylor Swift. ohhhh when they finally say those three little words it's going to be soooo good!!!

slut (affectionate) but like the fact that he’s so enchanted by her that he’s literally SWEATING is so funny to me?? like he’s GONE and they haven’t even kissed each other yet!?! also like yes he does like smart girls because he gets to be a little afraid of them, a little in awe of them - he's actually such a whore (affectionate). man had one (1) horny thought after seeing her skirt and he was toast. he loves how smart Mary is, he has no idea what's she's talking about sometimes but he could listen to her talk all day.

AHHHHH I just know she looks so cute and polished in her outfit!! the heels are definitely killing him - wait i have the prettiest mary coded dress to send you later! but like her in her element and in those clothes? i get why he’s being the cutest nerd and sweating - she is SO cute and polished and professional in her little pantsuit that's not exactly a pantsuit!! Bradley "am I into this because of the those or because it's Mary?" Bradshaw is all heart eyes over her!

eeeeeeeep they were gonna kiss there!!! damn old mr hadcock!! dude learn how to walk! you’re ruining their first kiss over a year in the making! - poor Fred, he's downstairs breaking his hip, not knowing what kind of chaos he's causing for other people

in another life man that would’ve been me (northrup grumman tho 🤮) - LMAO in another life Bradley would have definitely gone for her (it actually pains me to have to read the wikipedia page for the super hornet lmao)

GAGGED HIM PLS it’s embarrass bradley day - HER LITTLE SMIRK AS SHE SAYS IT???? she has no idea but that was the moment Slider decided he would do anything to help them get/stay together.

oh sweet boy! also now they’ve gotta recreate it with their kids, get a full circle moment - INVISIBLE STRING!!! INVISIBLE STRING!!! the teddy bear is still kicking around somewhere, I'm sure it comes out of storage when the twins are born. or maybe Uncle Slider buys a replica teddy bear for each of the kids, with their names embroidered on the foot.

he loves her he loves her he loves her. he hasn’t kissed her but he loooooooooves her ☺️ he’s so adorable this chapter, i can’t get over it. also slider’s “shovel talk” was really good, tbh they BOTH could get a shovel talk from him if you think about it. it wasn’t demeaning to mary or bradley and was just wanting the best for both of them? plus bradley loooooooooves her - he looovves her!!! Slider has a "shovel talk" with Mary later on, after they get together and it's similar to the one Bradley gets - take care of each other, talk about things, etc. he's honestly their biggest cheerleader

i can picture her face lighting up - absolutely! her Bradley just came into her office, so sweetly bringing her food on a busy day and interrupting the idiot on the phone, she's smitten with him!

this is hot - Bradley agrees, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing fueled by her jealousy but it ended up working out so well!

THEY KISSED THEY REALLY KISSED EEEEEP LOOK AT THEM!?!!!! wait wait this is similar to the first time they almost kissed? her on his lap, her surging forward? warm and solid ☺️ no rush no urgency comfortable and loving ☺️ and a lil slutty since they’re at work - it does!!! they mirror each other and themselves all the time (which I only mean to do like a third of them time lol) and it's a bit scandalous of them isn't it?? it's the sluttiest they ever get at work but it's still pretty hot!

SCREAMING!? GO MARE!!! - SHE'S HOT Y'ALL. also garter belt for reference.

it would not! smart aleck sends hers to bradley in his christmas stocking package - I thought of them when I wrote that line!! he doesn't have a bottle this time, but he definitely gets one in the future!!

oh honey no! he wouldn’t! but i can see that she’d be a little nervous about that so i’m glad she said something, she’ll feel better - they're growing! they're sharing! it's so sweet, and it'll make the time apart easier now that she's got his reassurance that he doesn't want anyone else but her

this is such a soft thought and i love all the layers you give it? especially the part about sarah sending him packages but forgetting and then getting the charity ones? oh sweet boy she is gonna sore on you forever and you’re gonna be the one everyone is jealous of on that carrier. he deserves it and it’s such a mary thing - sending care packages - that’s it’s so perfect for them? i also don’t think it’s something mentioned enough in fics? like not to bring her up againnn but smart aleck sends them to bradley and like…it’s just such a sweet gesture? i know he’s gonna be BLUSHING when he gets it - it was one of those things where Bradley wasn't talking to them but they still wanted to be talking to him. and you can't really return a package if you receive it in the middle of the ocean, so for the first 3-4 years he always gets something from the Kazanskys and Pete. then Ice gets sick and it stops. he'd never say anything but he was sad that he never got another one, it was like getting a little bit of a home he no longer had. but now he has Mary, and he (and the Daggers) will be the envy of an entire aircraft carrier, at least until he transitions to a shore based position.

EEEEEEP GOD IM GONNA LOSE IT WHEN HE SAYS IT TO HER - I AN'T WAIT FOR EVERYONE TO READ WHEN THEY SAY I LOVE YOU!!! (it's coming sooner than you might expect!)

i can’t believe her managed to hear her!?!! like AHHHHHHH i’m losing it!! she didn’t say it say it, but like he Knows she was gonna!? oh god i’m so excited to see how that pans out over the next couple chapters - the last few chapters are gonna be !!!!!! AHHHH

Mar[r]y Me - part eight

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 5.1k

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note: happy Friday! I’m super excited for this chapter! I know I say this every time but this is my favorite chapter so far and I can’t wait to hear what you all think!! have a great weekend!

part eight - peanut butter bites

It’s February 25th, and Bradley has sweat dripping down his back. He’s painfully aware that he’s the only one; the cold air blasting from the vents has everyone else reaching for sweaters, but he feels like he’s on fire. So hot he’s afraid he might melt through the old, cracked vinyl flooring of the VTC room. His neck is the worst of it; the skin is scorching from thirteen sets of eyes burning into him. Steadfastly ignoring all of them, he tries to focus all of his attention on the presentation happening up front.

“And as you can see here, since the implementation of the pilot program, the FA-18 return to service cadence has improved by ten days. The proposed plan to expand this training pipeline to Pensacola has been approved, and Dave will be working with Admiral Kerner and his team to spin this up over the next two quarters. The schedule that’s been laid out in Artemis, has the ECD for initial implementation on September 24th, one week before the start of FY22. Next slide, please.”

Bradley barely understands what Mary is talking about, but his fidgeting gets so bad as she gives an overview of the new program going into Florida that Jake nudges his side, looking genuinely concerned.

Bradley has always liked smart girls. Tessa Richardson, his first kiss, was valedictorian and went to Harvard on a pre-law track. The last he heard, she was moving up the ranks as a judge. But it’s a whole new level of attraction, watching Mary talk so competently and confidently about the inner workings of the multi-million-dollar planes he flies every day.

How is she so sexy talking about something so boring?

It’s a thought he’s had multiple times since program review began on Monday. He almost had to excuse himself yesterday when she had an entire page’s worth of suggestions for hardware and software improvements. Today has been exponentially worse, because Mary has deviated from her typical attire of simple but professional clothes. Today, she’s paired a black pencil skirt with three-inch stilettos. The heels accentuate the curves of her legs while the skirt hugs her hips in the most delicious way. And he was actually doing pretty well until thirty minutes into the PowerPoint when she slipped her blazer off to reveal a white button-up shirt that’s been perfectly tailored to show off her waist. Since then, he’s spent most of the time staring at her and then scolding himself for staring.

It’s like she’s trying to kill me.

He quietly takes a deep breath, hoping a sip of water will help him settle down. There are no hops scheduled for today, so the Dagger Squad is wearing their khaki uniforms, the least forgiving material, and the last thing he needs is to get hard while listening to his girl spout corporate buzzwords to satisfy the brass from Washington.

Unfortunately, Mary says the words “stick handling” while making direct eye contact with him and he chokes, spluttering and dripping water down his shirt as he coughs. Half the heads in the room swing in his direction, and he genuienly might burst into flames when he makes eye contact with his uncles; one looking concerned, the other highly amused.

Bradley knows he’s pathetic, getting all riled up over watching a woman excel at her job, and the boring part at that, but he really can’t help it. They haven’t had any alone time since Sunday, the week filled with back-to-back meetings, professional development, and deployment preparation for both of them.

“Of course. Happy Birthday, dolcezza.”

Bradley can feel her breath against his lips, her hand gripping his curls as their cupid bows brush.

“Bradley?” Someone is pounding on his door, the muffled yelling startling them apart. “Are you home? Fred fell! I can’t get him up! Bradley?!”

“Fuck!” He mournfully pulls away, racing to the front door. He carefully swings the door open, conscious of Mary being right behind him, her plate clattering on the table seconds after he stood up. “Mrs. Hadcock? What’s wrong?”

“Fred! He fell, and I can’t get him up! I think he broke his hip!” Bradley freezes when the older woman at his front door bursts into tears; he’s not equipped to deal with this, and he’s worried she might hyperventilate as she gasps around her words.

“Mrs. Hadcock, we need you to take a deep breath. Okay?” Mary quickly takes control as she slips her shoes on and tries to focus the panicking woman, nudging Bradley to do the same. “Is he bleeding? Did you call 911?”

“He’s not bleeding, but he’s in a lot of pain. I couldn’t call; I don’t know where my phone is.”

“Okay, let’s go to your apartment, and we’ll call once we’re there. C’mon.”

She wraps her arm around Mrs. Hadcock’s shoulders and leads her toward the stairs, asking more questions in a calm voice. Bradley grabs his phone, wallet, and Mary’s purse before locking the door behind him, anticipating this becoming a multi-hour thing.

It did become a thing, the doctors confirming the broken hip a few hours later, and it was almost 2 AM by the time he was driving the two women back to the complex. He walked Mary to her car, leaving with only a promise to let him know when she got home, before escorting Mrs. Hadcock back to her apartment.

Bradley was glad that his neighbor’s partner would be okay after surgery and a few months of physical rehab, but the interruption meant that he still hadn’t kissed Mary. He didn’t know what she tasted like. What sounds she would make. How long her perfume would linger on his skin. He's more on edge now than any mission he’s flown.

All week, he’s been itching for an opportunity to get her alone so he could finally press his lips to hers, as long as that’s what she still wants. He’s pretty sure she does. He’s caught her staring at his mouth several times, her chocolate eyes shyly meeting his when she realizes she’s been made.

He’s never been so grateful to hear Cyclone’s grumpy voice replace Mary’s sweet tone, the admiral thanking everyone and reminding the North Island team of the final prep meeting before ending the program review. As the crowd disburses, Bradley makes his way toward the front, heading directly for Mary to ask her to eat lunch with him.

In her office.

Alone.

With the door locked.

Halfway there, his path is abruptly blocked by Melissa Ludden, one of the visiting Boeing representatives. A new program manager, she’s visiting Coronado for the first time to get an understanding of what’s needed for the next generation of fighters, and she’s had target lock on Bradley since the kickoff meeting. Ten years ago, he would have reciprocated - hell, he probably would have had her in his bed after the first happy hour mixer - but now he couldn’t be less interested if he tried. He can admit that she’s very pretty and she seems smart, but the perky twenty-four-year-old can’t hold a match to his Mary.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw!” She also can’t get his rank correct, which irks Bradley, and tallies yet another point against her. “Boeing is hosting some of the attendees to lunch at Clark Square Grill; we would love for you to join us!”

“Thank you for the invitation, ma’am, but I can’t. I have deployment prep meetings this afternoon, so I’m needed on base.” He politely turns her down, secretly reveling in the little bit of twisted pleasure sparked by how her face drops.

Thankfully, he’s saved from her trying to plead her case and convince him by Slider calling him over, an order he swiftly – and happily – follows.

“Dave, this is Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw. Rooster, this is Dave Rhoads, the West Coast service director from Lemoore.” The name is familiar, sparking something in his brain as his uncle introduces him to an older gentleman.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Oh, please, call me Dave!” The thin but jolly man insists with a firm handshake. “I was just telling these three how much I appreciated your feedback on the training pipeline.”

That’s how I know that name. “I’m glad it helped; we weren’t sure if anything we were sending up to you would be useful.”

“No, it was great! Getting perspective from pilots really helped us grease the wheels in some places where we were stuck. You should be very proud of your squad, Mav.”

“I’m glad their complaining finally was do something besides give me a headache.” Mav jokes before pulling Dave into a different conversation, leaving Bradley with Slider and Mary.

“Mary, you probably already know him, but if you don’t, this is Bradley.”

“Yes, Ron. I know Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw quite well.”

Bradley feels himself go hot, heat racing up his neck at hearing his full rank come from her mouth. He ignores his uncle, refusing to look at him, already knowing a shit-eating grin is spreading across his dumb face.

“Oh, really, M&M?” He could punch his uncle for the way he laughs through his question. “Exactly how well do you know my nephew?”

“Your nephew?”

“How do you know each other?!” He can’t help how he blurts it out; his confusion overclouding the manners his mother drilled into him.

“Slider was my mentor when I worked in Pensacola. We spent many hours together working on the flight school repair schedule and trying to get me to fully understand the ranks. He’s the one that gave me the flight school sweatshirt with my call sign on it - I think you’ve seen me wear that, right?” Mary’s eyes twinkle, letting him know she’s laughing at how his jaw drops.

“I’m the one that convinced her to go up on a flight!”

“Tricked!” Mary jokingly snaps, smacking his arm with her notebook, comfortable joking around now that the room has cleared.

“Tomato, potato.” His uncle turns to him, his grin even bigger. “She always loved that photo I have of you on my bookshelf. The one where you’re laying on the changing table clutching your little teddy bear.”

“That’s you?! That’s such a cute photo!”

“How do you have that photo? I thought I destroyed all copies of that!” Bradley groans, not sure if he’s more embarrassed that it’s been on his uncle’s desk for years or that Mary has seen what is arguably his worst baby photo. The one where he’s red in the face from crying and screaming, clutching a teddy bear with an atrociously full diaper.

“Nope! And you’ll never get rid of it now because I’ve made a digital copy and distributed it to everyone!”

“Oh my god…” Bradley looks at the ceiling, cursing who is listening for making his parents' generation technologically savvy.

“A group of us are going over to Victory Café for lunch; you guys want to join? My treat.”

“I can’t; I have a meeting in a few minutes and then more this afternoon. But you can buy me a drink at the Hard Deck tonight.”

“Yeah, fine, M&M. One vodka cran on me.” Slider laughs as Mary starts to walk away.

“Oh!” She turns back. “When you have some time this afternoon, could you stop by my office, Bradley?”

“Uh- sure! I can stop by after your meeting and before the briefing?”

“That works, see you then.” Mary gives a quick wave, and the two men watch her walk away, grabbing her phone from the lockers outside the VTC room.

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk because I can tell how much you care about her. Though, had I known that she was the one you were acting like such an idiot about a few weeks ago, I would have flown out here early just to kick your ass. But I will tell you how much I love that girl; she’s like another kid to me, just like you are. So be careful, communicate, and do your best not to hurt each other.”

“I won’t; I’m just lucky she forgave me because I love her. I mean- I- uh-” Bradley stutters, shocked that those words just came flowing out of his mouth without permission.

“God, you’re just like Goose.” Ron smiles at his nephew and pulls him into a hug, a bittersweet feeling washing over him, realizing how much the boy acts like his father, despite barely remembering him. “They would both be so proud of you.”

Bradley gets a little choked up, feeling like a little kid again when his uncle runs a gentle hand over his head, stroking his hair just like he used to when he was small. “Thanks, Uncle Ron.”

“So…” He can’t hold it back; he has to embarrass him just a little bit more. For his own enjoyment. “Why do ya think she wants you to stop by her office?”

“Please stop.”

“Ohhh! Look at how red you are, baby goose! Are you hoping it’s something dirty?”

“I’m walking away.”

“Your call sign should have been tomato!” Laughter follows Bradley out the door and down the hall to the canteen, where he grabs two sandwich and chips combos.

“You okay, Bradley?” Halo quietly asks when he silently joins the squad, used to the boisterous nature of her teammate.

“I’m good. Thanks, Callie. Just thinking about the rest of the shit I gotta do before Saturday.”

He chuckles as she groans and launches into a rant about everything she’s procrastinated. Bradley listens intently as she vents, giving suggestions when he can, with Bob adding an occasional comment from across the table.

“And thankfully Aliyah’s friend was willing to watch Rupert and water my plants while I’m gon, since she backed out on me!” Callie exclaims. “Like, I’m happy she’s finally getting to go on this trip, but now I'm gonna owe Kelly like six hundred favors when I get back.”

“I’m glad you found someone in time and didn’t have to put him in a kennel until Aliyah gets back from Europe!” Bob says, knowing how much she hates putting her dog in the kennel for long stretches.

Bradley is just about to ask more about the woman who’s going to be watching Callie’s chocolate lab when the mechanics who work for Mary get in line for food.

“I’ll see you guys at the briefing; I’m gonna go take care of a few things.” He dumps his trash, ignoring the table full of protests as he turns toward Mary’s office.

It doesn’t take him long to reach the fifth floor of the admin wing. As the newest addition to the team, Mary had been relegated to an office on the mostly empty top floor. The lack of neighbors was a bonus when bored pilots visited, but the end-of-the-hall corner office was as far away from her shop as she could get.

He slows down as he gets closer, not wanting to interrupt whoever she’s talking to with her “I’m calm, but just barely” voice. It’s one she usually reserves for condescending admirals before tossing them to Cyclone so he can tear them apart on her behalf. Pausing in the doorway, he finds her staring at the ceiling, dissociating as the person on the other end yells loud enough that Bradley can hear it. He lightly coughs to grab her attention, smiling when she perks up and mashes the mute button.

“Beau wasn’t in his office, so I’m getting to listen to Cain’s bitching about my presentation on the manned flight stats as if I get to choose the content of the slides.” She looks down at the phone. “We’re going on thirteen minutes.”

“I brought you a turkey sandwich and kettle chips, if that helps?”

“Oh, Bradley, you’re so sweet! What would I do without you?”

“You’d probably be a lot hungrier in the afternoons. You want this now or in the fridge?”

“Fridge, please.” Mary hums before returning to her call. “Yes, sir. I hear you, but like I said earlier-”

As he’s storing the food in her mini fridge, her nails start to tap against the desk, frustration levels high after being cut off again. Bradley grimaces at her in sympathy. Everyone at NAS North Island is aware of Chester Cain’s personal vendetta against Maverick and how it’s begun to leak to anyone on base involved with manned flights.

He settles into one of her chairs, stealing a mint from the bowl on her desk and looking out the window. He loves Mary’s office, even though it technically sucks. She’s alone at this end of the hall, it’s a trek down to the repair shop, the elevator seems like it’s out of order more than it works, and in the hot summer months the air conditioning struggles to cool the westward-facing room. But he feels like the good parts make up for the bad. Like the privacy it provides and how huge the space is; big enough for her desk, two chairs, a conference table, all of her file cabinets, and a loveseat that has seen more than a few naps from the Dagger Squad. Bradley’s favorite part is the large windows that give a perfect view of the airfield, from the tower all the way to the end of the runway and the ocean.

He’s watching waves form and crash on the breakers when Mary moves around her desk, the phone cord stretching as she closes and locks the door, her stockinged feet silent on the tile. She surprises him when she continues her loop, perching on his leg with Admiral Cain still chattering in her ear. For a moment, he’s frozen, completely taken off guard by this development and the nervous look on her face, but it doesn’t take him long to get on board.

Bradley sits up straighter, wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her onto his lap while the other grips her thigh to tug her legs over his other thigh. Mary’s free hand wraps around his shoulder, immediately playing with the short hair at the back of his neck, sending goosebumps across his skin.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir. I have to go; I have someone in my office I need to speak with about final deployment preparations. But I will make sure Admiral Simpson is aware of your feelings.” Bradley listens as he natters on for another minute, unsure how Mary keeps her cool.

“Yes, Admiral, I understand. Goodbye.” She slams the phone down. “You stupid fucking dickhead.”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel, honey.” His hand slips under the hem of her skirt when she leans back into his chest, her hands slipping around his shoulders as she crosses one leg over the other.

“That was me being nice. He’s lucky I actually care about keeping this job.”

Bradley doesn’t get a chance to respond because Mary is pressing their lips together. He instantly responds, tilting his head to meet her and sliding his hand up to cup her neck. She’s so warm and solid on his lap; he loves the weight of her pressing against him.

Time feels syrupy, slow and sweet, matching their pace. It’s taken them ages to get here, their first kiss, but there’s no rush, no urgency. It’s comfortable - loving - like they’ve been doing this for years. He’s in awe of how perfectly they fit together, their bodies instinctively reacting to each other. It starts to heat up when their tongues meet, the two of them pressing closer, closer, closer to taste each other.

Minty. She must've had a mint before I showed up, he thinks as his left hand slips further under her skirt. Bradley feels his brain break when he meets lace halfway up her thigh.

“Are you wearing thigh highs?” He asks, voice edging on desperate.

Mary nods, panting and looking gorgeous with her flushed cheeks. “I hate pantyhose, and it’s so much easier to just wear the garter belt.”

“Garter be-” He groans loudly, thankful no contractors are occupying the neighboring offices. “Fuck, Mary. Jesus Christ, you’re so goddamn sexy.”

Bradley presses a bruising kiss to her lips before making his easy down her neck, leaving teasing kisses up and down the sensitive skin. He undoes her top two buttons and tugs the collar aside to nip at her collarbone, perfume invading his senses.

Would it be weird to get a travel bottle of her perfume?

He knows he’s not thinking entirely straight, but he doesn’t think it would. He could spritz his pillow and fall asleep every night to the same sweet citrus and floral notes he’s smelling now. It’s that thought that has his hand wandering to her buttons again, his goal to get her shirt off and then maybe spread her out on her desk or bend her over the table or get her in his lap on the couch…

“Bradley, wait, we- shit!” Mary pulls him back to her face, chest heaving. “We still have meetings.”

“Shit. Right.” He abandons the buttons, instead choosing to play with the hem of her skirt while he closes his eyes and tries to calm down. Mary rests her head on his shoulder as she catches her breath. They sit there for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company, just reveling in the way their bodies move in unison as their breathing starts to sync up.

“So, uh… not that I’m complaining, but where did that come from?”

“Don’t kiss anyone while you’re gone.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, honey.” Bradley nudges her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Why would I when I’ve got you waiting for me at home?”

“I just- I saw Melissa flirting with you and…” Mary trails off, and he understands.

“She can try to flirt all she wants, but she can’t compare to you, Mary. You’re so much better than her. She can’t even get my rank right, never mind the fact that she’s twelve years younger than me. Besides, I don’t like blondes, you know that.” He winks at her, making her laugh, which was his goal.

“Is that why you and Jake are always fighting?” She innocently blinks at him, teasing him for the pseudo-feud he has with his wingman.

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

“I know I am, actually.” Mary brushes their lips together. “Can do this whenever I want now.”

“Been wanting to do this for a while?” He asks between kisses.

She hums and nods slightly, more focused on slipping her tongue into his mouth again. “Ever since that first night at the Hard Deck.”

“You’ve wanted to kiss me since we met?

“M&M?” A knock on the door startles them apart, Mary almost falling off his lap, catching herself on the desk and rattling her knick knacks and picture frames. “You good, Vertucci?”

“Yeah! Yeah! I’m fine. What’s up?”

She springs off his lap, her cheeks redder than he’s ever seen, and he knows his match. It’s a good thing his uncle can’t see them through the frosted glass; they look guilty as hell, like two teenagers who got caught making out in the backseat.

“Well, I want to get set up for the meeting early, but I don’t know how the controls work in the VTC room. I was hoping you could show me since you have to be there anyway.”

Both of them relax, thankful he’s unaware of what he interrupted. Mary moves to open the door. “Sure, I can do that! I just-” She stutters to a stop after catching sight of her reflection in the mirror above her couch. It’s very obvious what they’d been doing.

“I just have a few things to take care of, and I’ll be down in a couple minutes!” She croaks, trying to rebutton her shirt and fix her hair at the same time.

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you there.” Bradley watches his silhouette turn away; his sigh of relief is premature when his uncle comes back after a few steps. “Oh, I almost forgot! Bradley? Mav is looking for you; go meet him in the hangar.”

All the blood drains from his face, and Mary turns in horror, their eyes meeting in terror. He clears his throat. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Take a few minutes if you need to!” This time, the silhouette walks all the way down the hall, laughing and whistling to himself the entire way.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! I can never speak to him again!” Mary moans, dropping onto the loveseat and burying her face in her hands.

“If it makes you feel better, he’s caught me doing worse.”

“Really?” He smiles at the way she peeks at him between her fingers.

“Unfortunately. I was bad about locking my door, and he was bad about knocking.” Her nose scrunches, obviously trying not to laugh at him. “It’s okay, you can laugh. You would think one of us would have learned after the first time it happened. Or the second. Or the third.”

He smiles as she snorts, pressing a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound and sinking into the couch. Her laughter dies down as they stare at each other. Bradley doesn’t think he’s been happier than this moment, Mary smiling at him with her partially unbuttoned shirt and mussed hair.

“We should probably go.” She sighs and nods in agreement.

He watches as she fixes her shirt and smooths her hair in the mirror, inspecting her makeup before padding over to the corner.

“These are for you.” She holds out a container from the shelf above her mini fridge.

He looks through the clear plastic. “What are these?”

“I made you those peanut butter bites you liked so much. They’re not the most exciting thing, but they don’t have to be refrigerated, so you can take them on the carrier. And you should be getting a box about halfway through deployment, so make sure you send me anything you want so I can put it in for you.”

Bradley takes a shaky breath, unable to swallow the lump in his throat. No one had ever made him a treat to take with him, and it’s been years since he’s gotten a care package that wasn’t from a volunteer group. Despite the fact that he wasn’t speaking to Ice, Sarah had sent him packages during his first few deployments. But that stopped when Ice got sick the first time, and it didn’t start again when the cancer went into remission.

It sucked being the only one being passed a charity box full of things he didn’t like or need, but he understood. Their life was different at that point. New health rules to follow, more appointments, their kids were starting to have kids. There was no spare time for unnecessary things, like sending a box of goodies to a kid who was refusing to speak to them.

“Bradley?” His name is said quietly, and he looks up to find Mary looking anxious, her brow creased in worry.

He drops the Tupperware on her desk with a clang and pulls her into his arms, pressing a hard kiss to her mouth and hoping it conveys everything he’s feeling that he can’t quite say.

Thank you for thinking about me. Thank you for caring about me. I love you.

She reciprocates, matching him, knowing this is one of the last times they’ll see each other alone before he’s gone for two months.

“Thank you.” He whispers when they break apart, Mary smiling at him and pressing one more gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away to put her heels back on.

Bradley walks her to the conference room, his hand brushing hers, but neither of them bold enough to hold hands when anyone could catch them. He spends the time watching her, savoring the quiet moments they get to spend together. A quick glance into the conference rooms reveals his uncle fighting with the display screen behind the podium, so he pulls her to the side of the doors and, after thoroughly checking the hall, kisses her.

The first time of many that he’ll dare to kiss her in an empty hallway of NAS North Island throughout their lives.

“I’ll see you at the Hard Deck.” He murmurs against her lips before opening the door and waving at Slider.

“Finally! Mary, what the hell does “extend the display” mean?” Ron rolls his eyes when he sees his nephew staring at his mentee like a lovesick puppy. “Bradshaw! Get your ass to the hangar, now!”

Bradley snaps to attention, giving a sarcastic salute that he only gets away with is because there’s no one else around, and the admiral glaring at him also witnessed his many potty-training failures. He gives his uncle a genuine grin as he turns to leave, getting instructions to prop the door open and an overexaggerated wink in return.

He does as told and hesitates for a minute before stepping to the side of the doorway, hoping he understood the non-verbal hint correctly.

“So… you and Bradley? That’s something you didn’t mention the last time we talked, Mary.”

“It’s new, very new. Could you not say anything to anyone – not even Mav – for now, please?”

“You got it, kiddo. Just try not to hurt him.”

“I won’t, Ron. I lo-” She cuts herself off, and the silence of the hall is deafening. Bradley can hardly hear her continue above his racing heart. “I care about him too much to hurt him.”

His phone is continuously buzzing in his pocket, but he doesn’t bother to answer it; he knows it’s Mav or one of the Daggers looking for him. In a daze of excitement and nerves, he makes his way to the hangar, wishing more than anything that he wasn’t walking into the final deployment briefing. He wants to turn around, throw Mary over his shoulder, and drive them up the coast until they find a little mountain town with no cell service and stay there for two months instead.

“There you are! Rooster, what took you so long?” He should feel lucky that it’s just an exasperated Maverick he has to deal with and not Cyclone.

“Sorry, Mav, had to drop something off to Admiral Kerner.” It’s probably the wrong excuse to give, his uncles are definitely going to gossip, and he’s going to get so much shit tonight for it. But he can’t bring himself to care as he slips into his chair, smiling so big at Hangman that half the squad worriedly looks at him.

She loves me.

Mary loves me.

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#thank you for your kind words <3333 #comment reblog

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1-800-iluvhockey · 3 years ago

Text

home - o.power

summary - the aftermath of boston through a series of voicemails, and the next steps for y/n and owen……

type - 4.5k fic, part two of watching him fade away

warnings - nothing too bad; major feels, sappy voicemails, graduating college, and a little surprise at the end :)

(also when we reference the boys, I mean the frosh & sophomores)

voicemail #1 - the morning of the flight, after the fight

hey o, when you get this, you will probably be in the plane or already in florida. I just wanted to call to let you know that I’ll be here, when you want me. I love you more than words can say, and I know you are probably mad at me right now, but you know I did it with the best intentions. I want you to live your dreams without me holding you back, so I am letting you go. I hope you can make your way back to me someday, because I will be right where you left me, honey. I’m only me when I’m with you, but for now I’m just going to be me, and you are going to be you; mr owen nhl power! I am so damn proud of you and can’t wait to see your debut. you’ve got this. you have been doing this almost all of your life, don’t let the nerves get to you, and play your heart out. every day, every practice, and every game. I’ll be here, in aa, watching all of your games and cheering you on. remember that I’ll always have invisible string thing you to me, and I hope that one day you can tug on that invisible string so we can be together again. I love you to the moon and to saturn, my love. good luck with hockey and I’ll talk to you soon..

voicemail #2 - about two weeks after, the night of his first goal

hi n/n, when you get this message, I know that you will be asleep. we still share the conjoined calendar and I saw that you had a big mid term today, so knowing you, you spent the whole day in the library and then fell asleep as soon as you got back to the dorm. I— I scored my first goal tonight. I wish you were there to see it because it felt amazing, but not as amazing as I should be when I don’t have my favorite person in the stands. anyways, I know that in the future, everything will be different…… I plan on having a seat in the stands saved for you, and then maybe even a box for our children. children, that sounds so good, kids, having kids with you…… only if you want them of course. but you know how I’d love a little y/n or little owen running around to teach them how to skate, and be the kindest human like their mom. now the midnight mush brain is taking over, sorry. but I just wanted to call to say that I love you, and the future is bright, and will bring us together. I miss you deeply, and love you forever and a day, honey.

voicemail #3 - y/n's birthday

owen douglas power, it’s my birthday and I know you can’t make it, but now we are both 20 and I feel like it was just yesterday when we met in Econ. I hope your game in, coincidentally, florida did good. I know you guys won 5-3, but in some cases I know to you that doesn’t mean a good game. when I was sitting on my dorm room floor, getting ready and fixing my necklace before the night out brought me flashbacks to your birthday when you gave that 22 pendant to me. I know that you think that I took it off after the frozen four, but I kept it on. I have this anxiety tic since you have been gone, I— I mess with the pendant and rub it at least 3 times to calm me down. It’s silly I know, but it helps. today was a really hard day to be happy, because you weren’t with me. I couldn’t laugh at your jokes, or have you smash me into the cake like last year…. but thank you for the flowers, they were gorgeous. I love you pow.

voicemail #4 - the end of the season

hey love, it’s now officially the end of the season, and I cannot wait to fly to aa and see you. I have already talked with your parents, and after we help them move your stuff out of the house, we are stating at a lake house I rented for us this summer. don’t worry, your parents will stay for a week, then we will have a week or few to ourselves…… and then the boys and their girls are coming to stay for a few weeks… then I have at least one week with you left until I have to go, and you have to go to school. I cannot wait to see you and hug you so tight. I’ve missed out hugs and cuddles. I also can’t wait to kiss you, those sweet lips are calling my name, they probably taste like your strawberry chapstick. I’m so excited I can’t even think straight, I will see you soon, my love!

——————————

that summer was pure bliss, every promise that was made over the voicemails and the night in boston was fulfilled. owen didn’t want to focus on hockey too much, but did tell her all the stories that she didn’t get to see in person, and about his new teammates. soaking up every hug, every kiss, every— every everything….. she truly didn’t want him to leave again. he was home, she was home. the first half of summer went too great, family and friends circulating in and out of the house, spending all day on the lake and then late night bonfires all night…. the last week n a half of summer before the pair had to part ways however, was like boston all over again….

“babe I told you for the hundredth time, I can’t go with you to buffalo right now!”

“WHY you can just transfer and—“

“NO POW— I won’t do it. I love umich too much and I want to finish out my 4 years so I can graduate and start my career on the right track. I know that it’s not super far, but I hope that you can understand why I am so persistent on this..”

“but babeeeee—-“

“NO buts! I respect your decision on your career, so please, please respect mine, owen.”

“this— this is a main reason why I love you y/n….. you are so headstrong in your ways, and against my better judgment, I won’t bring it up again. I’ll support you and your career in every way possible. if this is the way to do it, I will do it.”

——————————

and he did. by staying in contact with her throughout her whole junior year while he was making his rookie debut in the NHL. it was hard at first, seeing that both of their schedules were so hectic, on top of the rumors flying about the two of them. many found it hard to believe that THE owen power was taken, and many cheating rumors circulated, but y/n never believed them. however, there was a rumor of luke and y/n being together after a game that really got owen riled up, and y/n of course assured him that nothing happened….. because nothing did. luke decided to keep an eye out for y/n since pow left, because he knew it was the right thing to do, and since he was his liney for a few months. luke knew how much the two of you meant to each other.

y/n made every near by game that owen had with the sabres that year, and then would make some sabre home games depending on her schedule. good thing was during the playoffs, she got to make the majority of them because she got to take her finals a little earlier this year, meaning the year ended early for her. she was on track to graduate with high honors, which everyone was thrilled for. the reason behind her being able to take her finals earlier than most, besides the high honors that she will be able to graduate with, she is graduating a semester earlier……. and owen was THRILLED to have her in buf months earlier than he was planning on. but that means his plans for their future together were getting closer and closer.

——————————

“are you— do you think this is the one?” owen asked his sister as adam put the ring holder on the table and opens it.

“this ring would mean everything to her em, she is going to love it.” adam says as he shines it in the light. owen is just admiring it, thinking of proposal plans…

“okay, what’s the plan?” em tells her two brothers, as she closes the ring box and opens her laptop.

“going to have to get the boys together again for this.” owen says with a little smirk on his face. he has had the idea for awhile, and hopes that the boys can pull it off.

calling all the guys up, one by one…. they were all so happy and willing to help owen with the plan for proposing to y/n on graduation day. he knew that it would be cheesy, so he decided to do something even cheesier…… and convince the boys and coach to make a proposal video to play on the screen as owen took her in a “empty” yost stadium for a couple skate to celebrate graduating. he made the video by starting out with the boys talking about their relationship, then their families, and lastly it will be owen, on the screen saying how much he loves her and how they met etc……. while y/n is speechless…… he will get down on one skate next to her and propose, while the boys hold up a MARRY ME ? sign. it was perfect, and he was glad that all of the boys that can, can make it. the ones that can’t however are in the video, so it would still work out.

——————————

the day came for y/n to graduate, and she had no clue about anything. no one was answering her calls or text messages. most of the nhl was on their christmas break, but there was some games going on. her family was there and owen’s was, but no owen or the boys that she can see from her seat. y/n felt too good for graduating early, and she got a new dress the weekend before for this with the help of owen’s sister, it was a simple white maxi dress with longer sleeves since aa in december isn’t the best for mini dresses, and against her better judgement, y/n bought the white one instead of her navy blue one that she loved so much. graduation took almost a hour and a half before she could walk the stage, and when she finally walked, she could hear the cheers of her family….. the almost two hours was worth the wait. sitting back down in her seat to watch the rest of graduation, she looked to find her family….. to see both families, and the boys!!! the boys showed up with signs and everything, she started to tear up. all of the old frosh and all of the sophomores could make it….. but not owen. her face dropped when she didn’t see him sitting next to kent.

the boys watched as one of their best friends finally got to graduate and get her degree. all of the hours that she has sacrificed to not only her studying for her degree, but tutoring the boys has finally payed off. sure sadly some of the boys had to leave umich for the nhl so they didn’t get to see her as much, but that didn’t stop them from checking up on her and being close friends. they really hoped (and knew) that their y/n would say yes to marrying pow…. but a lot of them thought that owen not being in the view of sight for y/n’s graduation was almost too far. two of the boys closest to y/n offer the years have been kent & luke.. so when kent was the first that y/n spotted in the crowd after she walked the stage… he could see her face drop when she figured out that owen “wasn’t” there. he felt awful, and frantically texted owen about how he was making her feel. but owen had to stick to the plan.

——————————

y/n ran into her parents arms after the commencement ceremony was over, tears in her eyes as she held up her degree. her parents hugged her extra tight, knowing that their only child was going to not only graduate university today…. but become a fiancée. after talking and crying with her parents, she thanked her family and then owen’s family before going over to talk with the boys.

“BOYS— HOW ARE YOU HERE?” y/n yelled as she leaped into luke & briss’ arms… causing everyone to laugh.

kent was walking behind them trying to hide pow as pow was crouching behind him. kent left straight after the ceremony to give pow a stern talking to, and a best friend pep talk before the plan was put into motion. he calmed owen’s nerves a little…. before he saw her (and was twice as nervous).

y/n was hugging and talking with all the boys until she saw kent walking oddly towards the group, through the crowd. her eyes lit up when owen jumped up behind him with a bouquet of flowers, semi running in her direction.he was wearing her favorite navy suit, with a maize tie and a M pin on the suit jacket, with his signature flow / glasses combo…. he looked like the umich owen that she fell in love with. she looked to bords, who was standing behind her filming. she muttered a “that little shit” and looked at the camera, gave a thumbs up before owen caught up to her. he gave her a big hug (which turned into a kiss) and spun her around, as she laughed.

“OWEN DOUGLAS POWER— DONT— don’t scare me like that again!!” she jokingly yelled at him as he put her down, causing everyone to laugh.

“surprised?” he says as he smirks a little at luke, who gave a thumbs up behind y/n.

“I’m so glad that you could make it pow.” she told him softly as she gave him another hug.

“okay babe, I got to take you away from our friends and family for a minute… is that okay?” he asked her as he reached his hand out so she could take it.

“uhhh— okay owen what ever you say. BORDS! If I get kidnapped, please call erik to find me or 911.” she joked before turning around to look up at owen as he lead her to the first step of the plan.

owen quickly turned around for a split second to smile at h to e group before giving them a “go go” movement so they could change into their old umich uniforms for the proposal.

——————————

after a 5 ish minute walk to wherever pow was taking her, her eyes started to water when she saw the familiar building.

yost ice arena.

it looked to same, it looked like home. she hasn’t been here in a few weeks, as the boys have had a few away games before the semester was over. but it wasn’t the same as it was….. every time she walked in, she remembered all the times with pow & the original sophomore boys…. that she got sad when they weren’t there skating or with her. it had been so long since she saw her boys in a uniform in so long. but she was glad that she was able to experience the time that she had with them. she was also glad that she could watch the current sophomores live their last full semester at umich... because she knew they were going to sign and move away in a few months.

she didn’t question owen’s motives, she was just following him as he lead her through the semi dark arena, it looked so peaceful. she was at peace, finally being at home….. with her home. owen was home to her, he had taken her heart… and she has his. two hearts and one home is what luke would always say to her for reassurance.

now the pair were almost down to the benches, and y/n could see a blue “power” jersey that was laid over the home bench. her eyes started to water again… that jersey brings back so many good memories. hopping over the bench, she could also see two pairs of skates, one says power, and the other one… that looked like hers had writing on it but she couldn’t read it because it was too dark in the arena still.

“put it in babe, please? one last skate with me.” he said as he sat down on the bench and passed her the jersey.

“of course, power.” she said, flashing back to the first date that she had with him…. which was taking her on a couple skate, in this very same arena.

owen quickly put on his skates and helped her fix her skates like he always did, and she put the familiar jersey back on. after they were both ready, y/n took his hand as they skated on to the ice. the lights were slightly getting a little brighter so they could see the ice. they skated and talked and it was perfect. y/n & owen’s families were at the top of the stands, watching and getting pictures of this sweet moment. the boys were in their umich uniforms and were watching in the tunnel, getting some up close pictures. about 20 ish minutes of skating and goofing around, owen took her to center ice, and the lights turned into a spotlight on center ice.

y/n confused on what was happening, frantically asked owen.

“owen? baby what is going on?” laughing nervously.

“nothing to worry about honey, just look up at the screen! you’ll see.” owen said as he stood behind her, holding her waist, towering over her as she leaned into his hold (so she could see the jumbotron better)

the video started to play, and the screen turned to almost a interview setting, with the famous blue and maize backdrop and podium as owen walked onto the frame.

“hi y/n, if you are watching this, this means that you have finally graduated from michigan! first off, congrats babe, I’m so prone of how hard that you have worked. secondly, I love you so so much and I wanted to make this video to help explain my love for you. so uh— here ya go honey.. hope you enjoy it!” the owen on the screen says as y/n laughs a little.

the screen then goes to a montage of owen goals over the course of the last year, and all of the cellys that he pointed to y/n in the crowd to. goal after goal, celly after celly, y/n started to realize how much that she loved him and how much she meant to him. the commentators would say like “power with another goal of the night! look at him go! and his girlfriend in the stands?! isn’t she the best supporter?” and stuff like that which made her tear up.

but what started the tears is when the podium screen came back up, but it wasn’t owen on the screen but coach p,, one of her favorite people.

someone off screen asked him

“what do you think about owen and y/n’s relationship?”

and coach replied with “I think that she is the best one for him, with her in the crowd, he plays on a even more exceptional level hat he normally does. many think that relationships are distractions, but this relationship is far from it. I wish them the best and I hope that he can keep his good luck charm with him in the crowd, for life.” and he smiles at the camera….

she is now almost crying as one by one her family answers many questions like that. then, owen’s family, who cracked her up as em & adam started bickering on camera. the boys did the same, one by one answering little things like that….. but the last question that was asked and answered was by the couple’s best friends…. kent & luke.

the question that kent was asked was…… “do you think if they get married that you will be best man? or adam?”

kent laughs and says “man, I love adam but I hope I am. owen is one of my best friends, and I love y/n like she is my sister. so I really hope they stay together and that op proposes.”

luke waits for his question, looking down at the podium.

“hughesy how do you feel? about the future of our highlighted hockey couple.” the question person asked.

“I—“ he looks up and makes eye contact with the camera.

“y/n was one of the first people that I met here, and I had a fast connection with her. I’m like her little brother and she is the older sister I never had. owen treats her like a queen and I respect all of the things that he has done for her. their future is so bright. I wish them all the best! but uh— when you watch this… can I be a bridesmaid?” he jokes at the end as he runs towards the camera, shutting it off.

the screen turns back to owen standing at the podium, saying some last words. he is wearing the same outfit as now, which prompts her to believe that this last part was filmed today. the boys are now quietly skating into the ice, signs in hand behind the couple. their family’s are now closer to the ice taking pictures. one of the girls from the social media team have been filming the whole thing , and bother was their photographer of the proposal.

“hi y/n/n, I hope you enjoyed the video that I put together. it took me a long time and a lot of prep, but I knew it would mean a lot to you.” owen on the screen says as owen starts to loosen his grasp on y/n’s waist so he can bend down on one knee to propose to her after the video is over.

“before this video ends, I want to say that I love you so so much y/n l/n. you are my home, the one that supports me through thick and thin, the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with. you are the love of my life, and I cannot imagine spending another day without you by my side. I think about you and our future constantly and with every game until today I have thought of seeing your face as I said these 4 words that form one of the most life changing sentences I’ll ever say. so, y/n if you could please turn around.” owen on the screen finishes and the jumbotron plays the scene on center ice.

y/n turns around and gasps at the sight. all of the boys, in their white umich uniforms that she knows and loves (the frozen four ones as that was the last time that they were all on the ice together). she can feel the tears falling down her face as she sees them pull out signs one by one spelling out

Y / N, M A R R Y M E ? 💍

and she looks down to see owen on one knee with the ring of her dreams, his family heirloom ring from his grandma that she loved. she bent down and whispered a “yes owen, I so will.” which causes them to both stand up and put the ring on.

“SHE SAID YES!” owen yells as the couple kisses and then gets bombarded by hugs from the boys.

looking down at the ring after the boys gave her some space, she can finally see the words on the side of her skate, she smiles as she reads it

“mrs. power”

she was home, and now home was him for forever. <3

——————————

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#1 800 iluvhockey fics #owen power

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years ago

Note

After that Jake-Mac-Rosa fic, you dropped this queen: 👑 Next time, a Jake-Mac-Holt piece?

Oh dang, THAT's where I left it. Thank you for that. 🤪

Grandpa Holt is always a pleasure to write, but let's try for some Dad Holt too...

"Is everything alright, Peralta?"

Jake has been sitting off to the side of the group for a while now, so Holt finds it necessary to inquire. He's not used to the eager detective being so closed off and quiet unless something is wrong, and nothing he can think of right now strikes him as 'wrong': they have been celebrating the end of a rather arduous case for Diaz and Boyle, and Peralta had been as helpful as he could be as a tertiary, which was not his preferred position at all. The first round at Shaw's had been paid by himself as Captain, obviously, and the next by Diaz, so Boyle has promised to shoulder the third, were it to happen. Ergo Peralta could not be thinking about his usual money problems, which have lessened anyway ever since Santiago took over his budgeting.

That means something else entirely must be 'wrong' in order for Jake to keep out of the conversation, only reply when he is mentioned by name, and drift off to a corner of the bar while the other congregate around the various game options of the room.

"I'm good, Captain, thanks." Jake answers with a smile and an obvious lie, so Holt doesn't even bother replying, just raises one of his eyebrows a quarter of an inch, which he knows usually gets him results with Peralta. The ensuing sigh shows that it is still working.

"It's just..." Jake shrugs and rubs the back of his neck, another tell of his discomfort. "This is my first night out alone since the baby."

"Indeed." Holt replies. "I remember your phone call to Amy to inform her you would be back late today."

"Yeah." His hand is still on his neck, the other one clutched around his half empty beer bottle. "She told me to have fun. But..uh... I still kinda feel like I shouldn't be here."

"Do you think having a child robs you of autonomity? I know I am not speaking from experience, here, but it does seem to me like you are allowed to enjoy time away from your family, especially if your spouse insists you do."

"Getting drunk at a bar while my kid might be crying at home doesn't feel like the responsible thing to do, is all."

"Ah, I see." Holt nods, and he does see - he actually sees a lot more than what Jake might be trying to imply in his statement. He remembers how he used to self-medicate with alcohol in the past, after ending his relationship with that defense attorney, or even before, while feeling heartbroken over Santiago. He also remembers anecdotes about his father's drinking, not from Peralta himself, obviously, but from the rest of the squad, whenever Jake would cancel on a promised night out after Roger Peralta's visits. As much as Holt hates idioms, one of his most despised is probably 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree', and Jake seems to fear it as well.

"Here is my solution, then, if you are willing to listen." Jake looks up at Holt as he's standing in front of him, and his hand drops from his neck. "You make the beer you are currently drinking your last for the night, and spend some quality time with your colleagues instead, enjoying a few parlour games, and then you head home at an agreeable time and still see your child before he falls asleep."

Jake grins and takes a sip of his beer.

"Sounds like a plan, Cap." He nods, and Holt doesn't ignore the fact that Jake has been using this shortened nickname for him a lot lately, and how eerily similar it sounds to 'Dad' in his voice.

(An hour later, he receives a picture on his cellphone from Peralta: The man himself, asleep on his couch, with his infant son equally asleep on his chest. Santiago must have commandeered his phone, and Holt is glad for it.)

-*-

"Grampa!"

The sound of that little voice echoes through the hallway as loudly as the ensuing footsteps, and Holt feels something warm and solid wrap around his legs.

"Hello, McClane." He smiles down at the little boy currently clutching his knees, and he smiles back before raising his arms in an obvious demand to be lifted up. Holt obeys it immediately.

He notices Mac looks surprisingly tired for an otherwise very energetic two year old, and Amy, who's now following him to Holt's side, looks equally exhausted.

"Good afternoon, Captain. I'm so sorry, I should've messaged you that I have to bring Mac in for an hour, the babysitter cancelled and the day care couldn't keep him longer than-"

"It is quite alright, Santiago. McClane knows how to behave himself at the precinct, right?" He gives the little boy in his arms a look, and receives a strong and eager nod in reply, the curls on his head bouncing back and forth. If anyone were ever to question Peralta's parentage, that alone would classify them as an imbecile. "I can watch him for the time being, if you have paperwork you need to get in order before leaving for the day."

"God, Captain Holt, would you- that would be so- I was going to ask Rosa, because I know she's at her desk-"

Amy seems far more frazzled than usual, and Holt realises that her regular schedule must be in quite a disarray, considering she has been a single parent for about a week now. Mac must not have been making it easy for her, either, nor must the baby currently growing in her stomach, which has started to show about a month ago, at which point they finally informed the squad about it (when everyone had already figured it out just like last time).

"RoRo!" Mac yells, happily, almost leaning out of Holt's arms, but he quickly hugs him tighter.

"Your aunt Rosa is working, McClane, and we should not interrupt her. We can spend the time in my office, and you can draw if you would like."

"Roro working." He echoes like a little parrot. "Like Daddy."

"That's right." Holt has learned from the parenting homepages he's visited that you are to encourage a child trying to talk and string together a coherent topic, no matter how long it might take.

"Daddy's working away." Mac continues, and out of the corner of his eye Holt sees Amy's forehead wrinkle in worry.

"Yes, your father is in New Jersey for the week to work on a special case." It's not a dangerous case at all, rather a boring standard task that happened to involve some out-of-state suspects, but Jake had still been trying to hand off that trip to anyone who might be willing to help him out. Seeing his son with bags under his eyes and his wife with stresslines around her mouth and her hand on her belly, Holt understands why.

"He comes back." Mac says next, and it is a statement, but the look in his eyes makes it a question, and Holt is quick to answer. He's glad that he has a definite answer to that, instead of the empty promises and assurances he sometimes has to make as the head of a police department.

"Yes, your father will be back soon. In two days, in fact."

Mac holds up two grubby little fingers, and Holt nods with so much fervor it surprises himself.

"Very good, that is two. Only two days and two nights until your father is back home." The worry in Mac's eyes seems to dimish a little at that as he stares at his own fingers. "If we go to my office, we can check on the calendar exactly how long that is." He barely waits for another nod before taking the diaper bag out of Santiago's hands, who whispers a quiet, but relieved "Thank you" to him. He understands again that it means far more than to thank him for taking care of the child for an hour so.

(If he uses that hour to assure Mac several times that no matter what, his father will always find a way back to him with far more emotion in his voice than he'd usually use, well, no one needs to know. Peralta certainly seems happy about the picture he sends him of Mac with his captain's hat behind his desk.)

-*-

"Congratulations." Holt's hand on his shoulder is heavy, but not uncomfortably so, and it gives a quick squeeze before dropping.

They've done the whole customary introduction to the newborn baby, the apparently necessary picture round, and now Kevin is having an amicable chat with Amy in her hospital bed. They've waited two days for their official visit, to give the new parents a chance to get at least a few of their bearings. (Holt was there merely an hour after the birth, of course, with the rest of the squad, but that was a moment of joyful chaos and many voices.) Now the room is filled with an almost serene quiet, Amy's and Kevin's voices low and comfortable in the background as Holt watches the man he truly considers a son hold up his new granddaughter.

"Do you want to hold her again? I know you already did for the photos but-"

Holt only nods and takes the infant out of his hands with perfect ease. He's more used to a wriggling toddler now, but he still clearly remembers the days when Mac was equally quiet and frail in his arms. The little one in them now is asleep amidst all that is happening, her tiny mouth open just a fraction, and he feels her arm bump against his chest while she seems to be having a dream.

"She is as perfect as her older brother, Jake."

"Yeah." Jake smiles, and there's nothing of that boisterous, loud, cocky detective grin left in it that he used to know. It is soft and kind and full of love, and it might be one of Holt's favourite expressions. "Amy did a superb job again."

"As did you."

"I'm sure I don't gotta explain this to you, Cap, but I didn't really do much." Jake jokes, and Holt can tell he's trying to divert the attention to a simpler topic, but sometimes things must be said.

"You do a lot, Jacob." He continues, then. "Far more than a lot of fathers do. Far more than many would expect of you. And you do it all perfectly right, with heart and determination."

Jake nods, swallowing down a lump in his throat, it seems, and it might be a step too far for his already emotional state, but Holt feels like it needs to accompany his accolades.

"I am very proud of you, son."

Jake is very obviously fighting back tears as he replies.

"Thanks, dad."

The little girl in Holt's arms stirs right at this moment, and Jake seems to want to interject immediately in fear that she'll start crying, but she simply stares up at Holt with impossibly big, brown eyes for the first time. And he realises, just as he did two years ago when Mac's little hand tightened around his finger for the first time, that there is a child in this world that he would literally do anything for. There are four of them now, even if two of them have not fallen under the category of a child for several decades.

"Hello, Maya." He says to the little face that seems to be inspecting him. "I'm Captain Raymond Holt. Your grandfather."

He looks up at Kevin and Amy, who've stopped their conversation while Amy is lifting her phone in their direction, and then at Jake, who's looking at Maya as well with shining eyes. Then he looks back down at Maya, stretching her arms out of her swaddle as if she's reaching for him.

"You are a very lucky little girl."

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #mac peralta #maya peralta #raymond holt #captain dad #my writing #ficlet

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punkpresentmic · 4 years ago

Note

alarms dont work to wake aizawa up unless they're mic's voice

I love this prompt; it’s such a sweet thought to me. That being said, I immediately wanted to push how far this applies:

Aizawa can sleep through any alarm, which can be a bit troublesome when UA’s fire alarm goes off during his nap.

Rated G, 980 words.

“One, two, three—Hey now, listeners! Ya gotta stop moving! It’s totally throwing off my count, yo! One—” Yeah, this wasn’t going to work. The students buzzed around Hizashi like bees and he loved the energy—really he did—but it also wasn’t computing in their bright young minds that their favorite English teacher was trying to make sure none of his kiddos were still in the building with the shrieking fire alarms. Alright, so different approach; Hizashi took a deep breath. “HEY ARE THERE ANY OF YOUR CLASSMATES WHO ARE UNACCOUNTED FOR?”

That got their attention. They stopped to take stock of the students around them, some more chattering among their swarm before Tensei’s little bro shouted out their findings: “All members of class 1-A are here, sir!”

Hizashi let out a sigh of relief, checking his phone to see if there were any deets in the teacher’s group chat yet, but it was still only Nezu’s diplomatic ‘We are still looking into the cause behind the alarms. Please follow protocol until the fire department arrives.’

Hound Dog had posted a string of emojis after it. Hizashi was attempting to decode them when a quieter voice piped up: “Mr. Present Mic?”

He straightened, twirling on his heel with a pair of finger guns and a reassuring grin at the ready. “Asui, my star student! What’s the hops?”

“Have you seen Mr. Aizawa?”

Hizashi’s brows drew together. “Aizawa…?” He was quick to shake it off; the students were already on edge as it was. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere! Probably curled up in his sleeping bag! Don’t worry ‘bout it, little listener!”

He’d just seen Shou—he’d sent the guy on his break at the start of English—but a quick sweep over the heads of all these hero-hopefuls brought up no Shouta. Hizashi tried calling. Straight to voicemail. He chewed the inside of his cheek. Surely not…

But…

To be as talented at snoozing as his Shouta, you had to be some kinda special when it came to sleeping through noises that’d wake any lesser man. And Shou had developed this thing since they’d started living together years ago of falling asleep to the radio, only getting up for patrol when he heard Hizashi’s show come on—the schedules coinciding.

To put it plainly, Shou could sleep through the end of the world, only to wake up to a word from Hizashi. Which meant…

Damn it. He was probably in that storage closet again after he’d gotten reprimanded for napping in the teacher’s lounge.

“IIDA, MY STAR STUDENT! Make sure no one wanders off, would ya?”

Shouta had kept up the habit over the years: putting on a playlist with an episode of Put Your Hands Up Radio strategically placed in the queue, setting one of the licensed Present Mic wake-up-calls as his alarm, Hizashi’s humming in the kitchen luring him out of bed on a weekend. Shouta’s logic was that if Hizashi’s voice was what worked to get him up, why waste time finding something else. Hizashi could hardly claim he didn’t enable it; it was sweet.

But it also probably meant his husband was napping to music in a storage closet where the flashing lights of the alarms couldn’t reach him.

There weren’t exactly flames bursting out the windows though. Hizashi couldn’t even see smoke, though obviously the alarms had detected something that wasn’t quickly explained away by a science teacher or an embarrassed student with a fire quirk. Nothing stopped him entering.

Hizashi jogged through the empty UA halls, his boots loud on the tile and leather squeaking in protest. He threw open the door to the storage closet, sighing as he was greeted by exactly what he expected: Shouta Aizawa, pro-hero Eraserhead, snoring on the floor in his sleeping bag surrounded by cleaning supplies. Hizashi knelt at his side, gently removing one of his earbuds. “Hey, Shou. Time to get up, babe.”

Shouta groaned, squirming away unhappily. “No it isn’t. What do you want, Hizashi.”

“Shouta, light of my life, you’re sleeping through a fire alarm.”

He was silent a moment, processing that and the still-blaring alarms and the fact that his mental calendar offered up no memory of a scheduled drill. “So I shouldn’t finish my nap,” he surmised.

“Probably not, love. Come on. Everyone’s outside.”

Shouta stretched lazily, obviously not sensing any urgency in Hizashi’s voice and responding in kind. Hizashi helped pull him up off the ground, the two strolling back through the halls toward the exit. “So you came back for me?” Shouta mused.

“Baby you’re smoking hot and all, but I didn’t specifically want that to be literal.”

Shouta hummed.

“I do think I’ve earned the right as your hero to fireman carry you out of the building.”

Shouta continued to ignore him, looking around as they stepped out the doors together. Firetrucks were beginning to pull up. “I still don’t see any fire?”

On cue, one of the 1-A boys slid to a stop in front of his homeroom teacher. “SENSEI,” he gasped, clearly having sprinted over here. “Glad I caught you. Um. So. Hypothetically.”

“What did you do, Kaminari.”

“Hypothetically! If someone were to, say, use the staffroom microwave for lasagna—just an example!—when they might have said they were going to the bathroom during English... But like they totally didn’t mean to skip breakfast; it just sorta happened, and hey they had some lasagna packed for lunch so why not make it a brunch sorta scenario, right? Um.” Kaminari cleared his throat. “Hypothetically what would happen and also is that illegal actually?”

Shouta let out a long-suffering sigh. “Hypothetically I think that student should be expelled.”

All the color flushed from the poor kid’s face.

“Unless of course they owned up to their actions and came with me to explain the situation to the firefighters whose time they’ve wasted. Come on.”

#isaythings #erasermic #fic #thanks for the prompt mealz!!!#this was fun :-)#also mic calls them all his star students

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inkmemes · 4 years ago

Text

ryan ross lyric sentence starters ↪ taken from various songs he’s written, lyrics he’s sung, & poetry he’s penned. trigger warnings for mentions of sex, cheating, drugs. alter as you see fit ♡

“so close …”

“i am composing a burlesque.”

“i'm all alone in an afterglow.”

“but we haven’t even met yet.”

“this war ain't gonna fix itself.”

“you can’t be lonely.”

“you're gonna have to dig your way out.”

“she was nowhere to be seen.”

“some people never change.”

“i know i broke your heart. mine is broken too.”

“i'm carving pumpkins.”

“i'm afraid that i may have faked it.”

“though you tried to cut me down it wasn’t deep enough.”

“this may call for a proper introduction.”

“i know it’s mad.”

“all the lights are on, but no one's home.”

“a year ago, i was dreaming of where i am now.”

“charm your way out.”

“we're all too small to talk to god.”

“you’re invited.”

“it's not so pleasant.”

“if you're going, then go.”

“i was suspicious and naive.”

“we're still so young, desperate for attention.”

“things have changed for me, and that's okay.”

“that's the spirit.”

“watch your mouth.”

“it started with a simple kiss.”

“don't you move.”

“what a wonderful caricature of intimacy.”

“we'll never go hungry.”

“praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety.”

“i lie in silence and feel like a fool.”

“grab your hat and fetch a camera.”

“your eyes are the size of the moon.”

“it's time for us to take a chance.”

“you should take this heart of mine.”

“how did i get here in the right from wrong?”

“i know it just doesn't feel like a night out.”

“it just made her more interesting.”

“she didn't even see me.”

“do you know what i mean?”

“i'm wrecking this evening already, and loving every minute of it.”

“i sure do make an easy target.”

“someone i love loves someone else.”

“don't bother waiting up.”

“don’t you go down.”

“you vanished when you'd gotten what you came here for.”

“would it be alright if we just sat and talked for a little while?”

"when did he get all confident?"

“you know it will always just be me.”

“i feel the same.”

“all my forgotten poems are a joke.”

“she'd wanna kiss you all the time.”

“i want a big celebration.”

“i'll ignore my heart and lie to the truth.”

“film the world before it happens.”

“that's just ridiculously odd.”

“it grows like fancy flowers.”

“he tried to save the calendar business.”

“i wonder if this was physical or if it could have been in my head.”

“i wouldn't be caught dead in this place.”

“you're pulling the trigger all wrong.”

“i saw you, i met you, i loved you.”

“so let me set you free.”

“i'm aware that you're scared of my heart, but it's here.”

“northern downpour sends its love.”

“you better put that pen to paper.”

“if you're gonna preach, for god sakes, preach with conviction.”

“haven't you heard that i'm the new cancer?”

“i know i broke your heart.”

“i am something velveteen.”

“we're locked inside.”

“just don't put your teeth on me.”

“when i’m good, i’m the baddest.”

“i’m up, looking for you now.”

“you can call me tonight.”

“it sure as hell ain't normal.”

“haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?!”

“we sure are in for a show tonight.”

“can't take the kid from the fight.”

“she's got me twisted in love.”

“i could've waited for the train to come.”

“you could love me if i knew how to lie.”

“if it were me, i'd write another song.”

“i fell from the heavens as a fetish.”

“i am renewed.”

“i hope that i've still got your help.”

“take a look at what you got me into.”

“we should feed our jewelry to the sea.”

“who could ask for any more?”

“i'm pouring out my heart for paper.”

“i need to leave you but i never will.”

“i forgot how to call you.”

“just stay where i can see you.”

“it's the greatest thing that's yet to have happened.”

“i’m doing my best.”

“she didn't choose this role.”

“life is not a fairytale.”

“our loneliness will keep us warm.”

“i don't mind taking a photograph.”

“you're gonna bend until it breaks.”

“maybe something in my blood could lift my spirits up.”

“i am out of my mind.”

“imagine knowing me.”

“i hope it's where i belong.”

“is it still me that makes you sweat?”

“your speech is slurred enough that you just might swallow your tongue.”

“i must be lucky to have you be the one who loves me.”

“but who could love me?”

“you clicked your heels and wished for me.”

“give me your attention.”

“you set the house on fire.”

"man, it feels good to feel this way."

“i've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck then any boy you'll ever meet.”

“if the clouds were singing a song, i'd sing along. wouldn't you, too?”

“i know i've been wrong.”

“kissed a girl in the lobby ‘cause she asked so politely.”

“i can't get out by myself.”

“true love like ours is worth so much more than a diamond ring.”

“it never made her happy, 'cause she couldn't ever have me.”

“i do drunk dialing minus the alcohol.”

“i hope to god he was worth it.”

“he looked like he was barely hanging on.”

“why do i find myself outside at your window in the night?”

“i'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf.”

“they spill unfound from a pretty mouth.”

“ i'm going to need you to keep time.”

“you better back your shit up.”

“i think i owe it to you to try to be every hallucination you see in me.”

“you do this all the time."

“you're not what he's thinking of when he's with the other girl.”

things have changed for me.”

“this was no accident.”

“it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.”

“just sit back and relax.”

“i, for one, won't stand for this.”

“we play by donner party rules at all times.”

“the glitter is gone.”

“boys will be boys.”

“you're all that's left for me.”

“my mind is all mixed up.”

“who knew that love was a dangerous drug?”

“'she couldn't ever have me.”

“isn't this exactly where you'd like me?”

“we can play normal for a few days.”

“i ground my teeth and you bite your tongue.”

“in case i lost my train of thought where was it that we last left off?”

“it seems i’m someone i've never met.”

“i think i made you up.”

“it never gave a damn about me.”

“perhaps, i was born with curiosity, the likes of those of old crows.”

“i'm cold, i'm hungry, but i'm bored.”

“i don't want no gifts.”

“the monster mash is playing.”

“do you really even live here?”

“this kind of thing always happens.”

“you were right. i was wrong, like i always am.”

“i missed your skin when you were east.”

“i feel as if i’m a figurine.”

“every night is the same.”

“ i'm sure i didn't ruin her.”

“i could have sworn we danced slow before.”

“i'm seated and sweating to a dance song on the club's pa.”

“it's nice to think that you are always wanted.”

“am i who you think about in bed?”

“you'll never know until you're there.”

“come on, this is screaming ‘photo op’.”

“you and i will always be ‘the dream’.”

“any practiced catholic would cross themselves upon entering.”

“it was a scream when we were young and dumb.”

“i know i should've never left.”

“who can i believe?”

“she always had her fangs at my jugular vein.”

“and a few more of your least favorite things.”

“in matters of opinion, love has gone insane.”

“if i go to hell will you come with me or just leave?”

“in the house of mirrors, ain't nothing keep you safe.”

“you know that you feel it too.”

“now we're making some progress.”

“god damn, i’d hate to see what i’d do under the influence.”

“i’m only reflecting your perfections.”

“just a first kiss to face the new year.”

“we’ll sit in silence.”

“you're a regular decorated emergency.”

“euphoria is a risk on the floor.”

“she could never win me.”

“love is all i'm really after.”

“have some composure,.”

“this was a therapeutic chain of events.”

“on the hotel floor, drinking warm champagne.”

“we need to talk.”

“every word gets you a step closer to hell.”

“let me help you please.”

“i never said i missed her when everybody kissed her.”

“now i know it's just a matter of time until i make her come.”

“if the world were ending, would you kiss me or just leave me?”

“forgive me if i’m not quite ready to give them to you.”

“i want to know what everyone knows.”

“you told me not to fear the dark.”

“the weather is impeccable.”

“i don't love you, i'm just passing the time.”

“i can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.”

“love is established philosophy.”

“but it might’ve been the calm that comes before the storm.”

“let's sing it like you mean it.”

“there's a devil in the corner.”

“there’s never anything good on tv.”

“everything goes according to plan.”

“i ran from love like it was laced.”

“i guess we're back to us.”

“we can't help ourselves.”

“i remember fuckin' in the falling rain.”

“i wasn't born to be a skeleton.”

“i couldn't quit her.”

“everything's gone missing.”

“we must reinvent love.”

“i know it's sad that i never gave a damn about the weather.”

“what do i know?”

"the best part about you was me."

“check the pocket of my leather jacket.”

“i am truly made of one million glowing constellations.”

“i mean, technically our marriage is saved.”

“she's a dangerous place.”

“even the truth is wrong sometimes.”

“was it god who chokes in these situations?”

“i feel like something on strings.”

“she couldn't ever catch me.”

“i try not to think about it and you.”

“i know it's just a matter of time.”

“i can't prove this makes any sense, but i sure hope that it does.”

“you know you should take it a day at a time.”

“i never said i’d leave the city.”

“it's the greatest thing you'd ever imagine.”

“i might have lost control.”

“i'm in a rut but still adored.”

“i'll keep my distance.”

“i need to take a vacation.”

“it's almost halloween.”

“is it a fairy tale?”

“well, this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne.”

“you can't stand it.”

“i'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.”

“we were always thick as thieves, you and me.”

“maybe i will, maybe i won’t.”

“all i want to do is dig a hole with you.”

“stop stalling.”

“it truly is enough to be alive and be in love.”

“i can't believe my eyes.”

“if i were to die tonight, would you cry, or deny my place in your life?”

“you are at the top of my lungs.”

“things do like to build up and fall apart at the same time for me.”

“why can't we just be friends?"

“i never know where the evening goes.”

“i want to go where everyone feels the same.”

“i fell in love again.”

“all i do is lie.”

“they asked for it.”

“was it all a dream?”

“all your wishes, they will sink like stones.”

“i wandered through the sunshine.”

“living even one minute without you is a moment i'd rather not have to live to see.”

“i want to go where everyone goes.”

“i think that i have had enough.”

“asked to be her husband; she already had one in prison.”

“true love is scarce.”

“somehow it still came undone.”

“things are shaping up to be pretty odd.”

“is ‘young’ a word for ‘dumb’; a word for ‘fun’?”

“said i'd let you keep it forever.”

“i never said i’d leave this town.”

“guess i'm going to a party.”

“damn, this is rough.”

“someone should have told her that pretty ain't a job.”

“something changed along the way.”

“i can't convince myself that you were good for more than cheap thrills.”

“now i’m the only one to blame.”

“let's not get selfish.”

“i hardly knew a thing about you.”

“give your feet a chance, they'll do all the thinking.”

“make a name for yourself.”

“it's useless searching in the cupboards.”

“i won't cut my beard and i won't change my hair.”

“it’s just the end of the world.”

“back to the room where it all began.”

“what was it that you put into my guts?”

“what a shame.”

“we'll leave the past out to pasture.”

“i know the world’s a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home.”

“everybody knows it but you.”

“it looks like the end of history as we know.”

#rp meme #rp prompt #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #'ink ...' u say. 'i know' i say #if u know my newest rp blog and u see this ... simply Do Not Perceive Me #im having me time get OUT #let me live my LIFE

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thegeneralguy · 4 years ago

Text

A good role model

Hello! Thanks to @amalianetwork for helping me out with this story. Its a bit shorter than what I usually post on here, but it struck some heart strings inside of me. I hope you enjoy it.

Twitter | Blog

“Come on Matt! We’re going to be late for the festival!”

The excited shrieks came from a young child not older than ten years of age. His wavy blonde hair was encased in a blue baseball cap, and he was wearing an old button shirt. He was grabbing the hand from an older young man, pulling him forward with haste. Both boys looked very alike, age being the most differentiating factor between them.

“Ease up Cole, your number starts at seven. There’s plenty of time.”

“Yes, but I want to rehearse one time before the show. Mrs. Davis said all kids in our class had to meet an hour before to practice our song”

Matt advanced reluctantly, feeling uneasy in his attempt at formal attire. He adjusted his badly-knotted tie and tried his best in accommodating his oversized shirt. But he knew it was a necessary sacrifice, because this was supposed to be Cole’s “big night”. He would do anything for his little brother, even if it meant dressing as a buffon. The boys were rushing through the parking lot of the local theatre, amongst a sea of other families heading to the entrance. They entered the building and immediately headed backstage to deliver Cole to his class. Matt made sure his small bowtie was in place, but when he tried to take the cap from him, Cole swatted his hand away.

“Cole, you know you’ll get in trouble if you throw a fit over that cap again. All the kids in your class have to be dressed the same.”

Cole pouted and grabbed his head with both hands, securing it on his head.

“Please let me keep it. I’m scared to perform without it.”

“Okay you win. Just this one time though. You’re a big boy now, there are some rules you have to follow.”

“You’re the best Matt!”, said the little boy hugging his brother.

“Just remember to have lots of fun! I’ll be watching you from the front rows. And remember, once your act is over we gotta go.”

“That's not fair! Mrs. Davis is gonna take us all for pizza once the show is over.”

“I’m sorry C. You know Aunt Gertrude doesn’t like it when we go out late.”

“I don’t like Aunt Gertrude. She’s mean.”

Matt kept a straight face not to give a bad example, but he knew what his brother was talking about. Their aunt was a real menace sometimes. Especially when her rules were disobeyed.

“Don’t be like that buddy. Aunt Gertrude has been nice to us, so we have to obey the rules of her house. Besides, I’ll take you for pizza on the weekend. What do you say?”

“Yay! Thanks Matt. I’ll hurry up after the show, I promise. See you later!”

Cole then turned around and sprinted towards his group. Matt looked at his brother tenderly, remembering all they have gone through together. The blue cap was originally his, a gift from their father. They never had a lot to begin with, and after his parents were gone, the cap was one of the only mementos he had from them. He remembered hugging it terrified, as the police explained to him with gruesome detail for a twelve year old how his parents had been killed in a mugging. Cole had been only five at the time. Their aunt was their only living relative, so they were placed in her house. Cole couldn’t stop crying during the first night, so Matt gave him the blue cap and told him as long as he had it, his father would be there with him. Five years had passed, and the little boy still took the cap everywhere. Convincing Cole to take it off to wash it was a real hassle sometimes, but Matt managed. He was a good big brother after all.

Matt went to his seat and watched the recital in silence. Group after group they performed, excited families bursting in applause every time their kid went onstage. The young man was growing increasingly nervous, watching the minutes turn into an hour. The show was taking too long, which meant arriving at his aunt’s too late and having to deal with her wrath. He was lost in thought when suddenly Cole’s group was onstage. He cheered and applauded his little brother, who along with his classmates presented a potpourri of popular songs. He immediately recognized him due to the blue garment sticking out of the sea of white shirts. Once the number was done, he stood up from his seat and went to meet his brother backstage to take him to their aunt’s.

Their Aunt Gertrude was a solitary woman, preferring to live alone and far away from any other neighbor. The little house stood right at the edge of the woods, standing lonely amongst the dark trees. The car was parked on the driveway, so Matt knew immediately their aunt was home. He prepared mentally for the fit she was about to throw when she saw them coming in through the door. Once they made it inside, he sent Cole straight to his room and went into the living room, where his aunt was sitting on her usual chair watching TV.

“So, look who finally decided to show up. This isn’t a hotel you know.”, said the fat woman looking hatefully at the scrawny teenager.

“I know Aunt Gertrude. Cole had a school event he couldn’t miss, so we stayed out until late.”

The woman sneered at Matt, and then continued watching her show.

“You know misbehavior has consequences right? You were out past dinner time, so there won't be any dinner for you.”

Matt felt the rage coming up from his stomach. He disliked the woman a lot, but he knew she was the only reason the brothers were allowed to stay together. She knew that too, so she made sure to exploit that fact every time she could. He didn’t mind missing dinner, he was used to it. But Cole had to eat, or his stomach would hurt again and he wouldn't be able to sleep.

“I can miss out on dinner today and tomorrow if you want, but let Cole eat something. It was a tough day for him.”

“You should’ve thought that before breaking the rules. Rules are necessary, or else you will end up like your good for nothing dad. He got my sister killed, you know. Only a bad person does that.”

Matt tightened his fists so hard his nails dug into his skin causing some bleeding. His father was his aunt’s favorite subject, always belittling and berating him. But he was a good man, very hardworking. A real example for Matt. His only mistake was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Don’t you dare talk about him…”, he grumbled quietly. His aunt let out a cruel cackle, and glared at him angrily.

“Or what? You are just like him, you know. A useless dead weight under my roof. But not for long. You got one more night. After that, you’re turning into an adult, which means you gotta earn yourself a life.”

Matt had been so busy with his brother that he had completely forgotten about his birthday the day after. His aunt had been telling him she was going to kick him out that same day, but he always thought she said that only to intimidate him. Thinking about leaving Cole with that monster alone sent a chill down his spine.

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking you little asshole? As soon as you’re eighteen, you’re legally not my problem anymore. Besides, it’s good you learn how the world works. Not that your father ever taught you that. In fact, I think Cole was lucky to grow up without his bad example!”, said the woman laughing loudly. “Now, better get your shit ready. I’m calling farmer Joe tomorrow to see if he has some job for you. If you’re lucky he might even let you stay in the barn with the rest of his boys. Now, get out of my sight. My next show’s about to start.”

Matt just turned around and left completely speechless, hearing the loud music from the TV and his aunt laughing as he went upstairs to his room. Cole was already showered and wearing his pajamas, the blue cap still on his head. Matt sat down next to him on his bed, trying to keep his composure and not burst into tears.

“Listen Cole, I have to tell you something,'' he said, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words. “You know tomorrow is my birthday, right?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t forget. I even wrote it in my calendar to get you some chocolate.”, he said excitedly before realizing he just ruined the surprise. “Oh no, I just ruined your present.”

“No buddy, it's okay. You know I love chocolate.”, said Matt grabbing the little boy’s head. “But listen, tomorrow I’ll be eighteen. And that's a very special number. So special, that people invite you to participate in certain activities!”

“What do you mean?”, asked Cole with a puzzled look on his face.

“Well, farmer Joe has invited me to his special club on his land, so I’m very excited I can go now. There’s only one small problem, I have to go sleep there too so I can do everything the guys there do.”

Cole just stared at his brother, tears welling up behind his eyes.

“You’re gonna leave?”

“Don’t be sad buddy. This is a great opportunity for me! Besides, I’ll come to visit you every day, I promise.”

Cole threw himself at Matt, his little arms embracing him as strong as they could. Tears ran down his rosy cheeks, and he could barely articulate the words due to the knot in his throat.

“But I don’t want you to go! I don’t want to be alone in this house. I’m scared.”

“I know buddy, I know.”, said Matt hugging his little brother. “But listen, remember what I told you about that cap? As long as you have it, dad’s going to be here with you. And so will I.”

Both brothers embraced for hours, refusing to let each other go. Cole cried until he fell asleep, so Matt tucked him into bed and waited until it was late enough to go down and steal some food for the boy. His aunt went to bed just before midnight, so he had to wait until she was gone to go to the pantry. He was almost falling asleep when he heard the TV going off, and the heavy steps of his aunt going into her room. He hesitantly stepped out of their bedroom, and swiftly went down to get some food for Cole. His body was very light, so that helped him move silently on the wooden floor. He brought up some snacks, leaving them on Cole’s night table, completely missing the clock just striking midnight.

He went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Taking off the horrible oversized shirt he stared at himself in the mirror. He was practically just skin and bones, lacking the proper nutrition and exercise for a good development during puberty. His dirty blonde hair was pulled back on a bun, looking just a shade darker than his brother’s. His aunt was right, he was pathetic, scrawny and weak. Barely a fitting example for Cole. But he didn’t want his brother to grow up without him. It was already bad enough he had to grow up without a dad, only to have his big brother be taken away too. He wished that both of them could stay together. That he was enough for his little brother, so he could provide him with the life he deserved.

The lights in the bathroom flickered, and the window was suddenly opened by a strong gust of wind, startling Matt. He started to get lightheaded, grabbing the small sink to prevent himself from falling. “It’s probably hunger”, he said to himself. But the more seconds passed, the worse he felt. He started sweating cold, drops falling down his face and his pale body. He watched a shadow creep over his skin, thinking he was starting to faint from starvation. When he raised his hand to touch the darkness, rough bristles greeted his fingertips. He was growing hair, all over his body. He watched it get longer and thicker, a thick mat covering his chest, and crawling down his flat stomach painting a thick treasure trail on his skin. Tufts of hair poked out from under his arms, his sparse armpit hair getting far denser. The shadow then climbed up his neck, fully flourishing on his face to form a short beard. Matt felt its roughness with the palm of his hand, fully enthralled by the sensation.

He then felt his bones elongate, shooting him a few inches towards the roof and lengthening his limbs. He looked like that creature slender-something kids were so obsessed about. Once his skeleton finished its growth, the muscles followed suit. He felt incredible heat emanating from his body, as each muscle twitched and grew to enormous size. Size packed on his chest, fully forming two massive pillow-like pecs sticking out from his torso. His cleavage was so deep he could probably put his entire thumb in it, and probably crush it too if he squeezed hard. Muscle packed on his shoulders as well, growing like two bowling balls. It made him look monstrously wide, fully condemning him to a life of having to go through doors sideways. His arms surged with power and grew as well, fully surpassing the width his legs had before. Thick hairy pythons hung to each side of him, resting at an angle due to the thickness of his triceps. His back then rounded out like a shield and expanded into a hairy muscular landscape. The lats were so big they looked like the could fall off of him at any moment.

He heard his stomach grumble, as it blew forward sticking out just a few inches behind his chest. Thick abs could be seen on the curve of his belly. His ass blew his dress pants into oblivion, each cheek swelling like a Christmas turkey. The legs followed suit, thickening into titanic proportions, powerful enough to sustain such a heavy top. Even his feet grew a few sizes, fully completing his transformation. Matt just stared at his new body speechless, feeling control over each fiber. He flexed his big arms, and bounced his heavy chest. A deep chuckle left his throat, and he realized his voice grew much deeper as well. He was so entertained by his new figure, he missed the clumps of hair falling from his head. His hair thinned out a little bit, and shortened itself into a clean cut, contrasting with its previous unkempt image.

Matt looked like a new man. His kid used to tell him he looked the size of a barn, just like that Disney song he liked from the film with the talking furniture. He was very bad with names, but he knew what movies his son liked. Matt scratched his head, confused by the thought of having a child. He was only eighteen, barely old enough to have a kid. But a body like this couldn’t belong to a young kid. A body like this took years of dedication, of pain and sweat, of discipline. He looked like the perfect dad, strong enough to protect, and big enough to climb over like a jungle gym. Matt smiled looking at himself in the mirror. His features changed and rearranged themselves into those of a masculine man. His nose was bigger and his brow stuck further out. Even a cleft formed on his now square jaw. He looked tough, but also lovable.

The maelstrom of memories fully blew Matt’s mind away, turning him into a perfect dad. He felt his dick snake up under his belly, and his balls drop lower and heavier like a mature plume, virile enough to spread his seed wherever he wanted. The rush of testosterone triggered more changes in him. His muscles got denser, more lived in. Crow feet printed themselves next to his eyes, and his skin got rougher fully aging two full decades.

“I’m one sexy motherfucker.”, grunted Matt, flexing before the mirror. He dedicated years of hard work and discipline to his body, and it showed. He loved the tight feeling of a shirt about to burst due to his titanic arms, or how the buttons popped open on their own due to his heavy chest. But even his glorious physique wasn’t his most valuable treasure. That was his son.

Reality rearranged itself around Matt, as memories of Cole growing up with him changed into those of a father raising his son. He remembered how tiny he looked when he held him in his arms, or how scared he looked when Matt dropped him in kindergarten for the first time. He remembered the recitals, the little league games, the birthday parties, the nights with Cole on his bed due to a nightmare, the camping trips. Everything he did, and had, was for his son. He was happy to grow up next to him, so he could teach him about the same hard work and discipline he put into his own life. Hopefully, Cole would grow up to be a good man like his father. And with those genes, hopefully big and strong too.

When Matt came back to his senses, he was standing in a nicely furnished bathroom. He adjusted the glasses on his face, and checked himself one last time before going out. The short sleeved shirt looked perfectly fitted to his big body, his arms almost ripping the tight sleeves apart. He came out of the bathroom to find the luxurious interior of a suburban home. He wanted his kid to have all his necessities covered. The memory of the tiny house in the woods and the monster within fully erased from existence.

“Come on Cole, you don’t wanna miss out on a good pizza, do you?”, he shouted, his deep bass shaking the foundations of the house.

“I’m coming dad!”

Young Cole came rushing down the stairs. His blonde hair shined brighter, and his blue eyes sparkled with excitement. He took his coat and headed towards the front door, where his dad was waiting for him. Matt noticed the small blue cap on the little table next to the door.

“Aren’t you gonna wear your cap?”, he said, handing it to his son. Cole just smiled at his dad, and turned the cap away.

“I’m not scared anymore dad. I don’t need it.”

Matt just smiled and opened the door for Cole. The happy family then headed out into the sunshine to live the rest of their lives together. Nothing would be able to separate them.

#musclegrowth #daddy #hairy hunk #reality change

189 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

Okay I just wanna say that I really love your writing!!! Hope you and chimmy are doing well! Can I request a drabble with merman tae and y/n's a human and they're childhood besties and tae likes her but she's a dumb little bean. I just realised how many 'ands' are in that sentence. If you don't like it then...ahem know that I still love you!!! 💖💖💖

pearl of mine

pairing: taehyung x y/n

wordcount: 5k

glimpse: merman!tae is the reason why tourists can’t find any more shells and pearls in the shore, y/n owns more beach houses than deduction skills, and concierge!yoongi’s the hero :D // gif from pinterest

notes: are u kidding me baby i love it AND you!!!! chimmy barks his regards <3

“hmm? where’s barnacle boy?”

alright there goes your peace and quiet

it’s very nice to know that where yoongi is, translates to meaning that all your peaceful thoughts automatically aren’t there

if he’s not manning the concierge, it means he’s there keeping you company!!

annoying you

your ten minutes of bliss of just having your calves dipped into the water is interrupted now but it’s ok!!

after all, yoongi’s ur right-hand man anyways!! he’s the one who keeps track of everything and you’re so close to convicing your dad to put him in the family will too

you can’t manage your family business all by yourself!! how exactly are you gonna manage fIVE of the hotels that your parents have put under your care by yourself

five of the seventeen hotels that your family owns..,.,.,

（；＿；）

your dad gives you tOO much trust and he believes in you like actually a lot

a lot more than you could ever trust yourself tbh

he doesn’t want you to take charge only when he retires or dies!! you’re his little dove and he wants you to be as immersed in your family’s group of companies

it’s generous but of course it’s hectic

which is why you’re spearheading the handling of the actual main hotel he’s put under you!!

and the rest of the less major ones, you’ve had to go through a long and tedious process for so you could find an actual trustable manager and supervisor that wouldn’t commit embezzlement and-

yoongi’s about to scare you again by nudging your lower back with his foot, but you’re ahead of him when you nip his ankle with your nails

“... it’s mermaid man.”

he scoffs out a laugh because what was supposed to be a teasing nudge for your friend that’s clearly nOT human, turned to your joke instead of his

he doesn’t need to look at his watch to know what time it was by then bc he’s practically memorized the skies and the tide at this point

every 5:20 in the afternoon, you and taehyung would meet here!!

you come outside at exactly 4:50 to give yourself some leeway into preparing whatever you’d be giving him or rather, pestering yoongi what you think you should give him for that afternoon

it doesn’t necessarily have to be grand! on most days you just make him waffles without the crusty edges (he likes it the most when it’s so hot that it was still soft and jiggly) and the filling would be whatever food he hasn’t tried yet

.... basically.......... almost everything

but now it’s 5:23 and he could tell with how the water didn’t settle to the wooden platform as well as it did when it was 5:20

yoongi could actually TELL the difference because he’s seen you do this for the four years he’s been working here

the hotel had three wings — the shore wing, the balcony-sturdy-treehouse-type of wing, and the cabana wing

you bounce all around the place because naturally, you aRE the boss here, but afternoons really were just reserved for the cabana wing

where there’s a staff cabana by one of the wooden paths that lead to it, and one specifically reserved for you and probably yoongi now lmao bc he wouldn’t take a nap anywhere else

it’s you just sitting by the deck of your cabana that houses your too-expensive waffle maker, and a cozy blanket then deck pillows outside where you lay when taehyung’s there perched by the wood

you easily have three plates always, and yoongi just goes a lil bit soft that you let him intrude your routine with the merman

but today, all that highLy seems unlikely

“he’s totally not coming,” he exaggerates all in one breath, not having the decency to wait bc he’s stuffing his cheeks full with waffles

everything’s a hit or miss with mermaid man anyways and yoongi would rather nOT try his adventures of waffles with buttered rice in between no thank u

so that’s why he’s sticking with his trusty s’mores waffle!!! :D

put chocolate spread in between while it’s STILL in the pan, then tiny little marshmallows with crushed graham crackers and 10/10 u will see heaven

he gets crumbs on your sundress and you barely even grimace because you’re used to yoongi and all his yoongi-ness at this point

“yes he is! we’ve been doing this everyday without fail for like, twelve years already.”

you know what.,.,., maybe even longer than twelve years

this one’s marked on your calendar you can just SNIFF it

what you distinctly remember is your dad picking you up from school then suddenly deciding that he’ll teach you the ropes

you knew what everything was coming to because suddenly, you’d take your daily after-school snacks at the hotel

and then your weekends were slowly merging into memorizing names and amenities

... and then sitting by your dad’s chair with a juicebox when he had meetings

then before you even realize, you’re managing five hotels under your name and a particularly large one mainly

it was when you’ve had a suckish day at school because you cannot seem to just gET the multiplication table of 7 and your dad’s chasing after you again so you could get to see the fire escape plans as “fun little puzzles!!”

ya know what maybe you should go outside

it didn’t exactly click into your young mind that holy shit your family’s LOADED

all you knew was that people greeted you left and right even if you didn’t know them and you’d always be offered stuff you didn’t even ask for :D

all you cared about was skipping by the cabanas but holding by the rope on the side bc what if you fell lmao

yet what did fall to the water beside you was your bracelet!!!

:((

a red, single-threaded, string bracelet from your wrist that must’ve gotten loose

it’s something you’ve never took off and the sheer panic in your mind was tOO HIGH

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

even before you could call out to your dad though, or any of the staff that would literally drop everything to help you, something just shifts in the water

it’s too quick for you to even decipher and the multiplication table of 7 would’ve been easier to figure out

the moment you crouch by the end of the deck was when you see it aGAIN

there’s this incredibly pretty boy that emerges from the water, only his shoulders up to his head peeking out

he most certainly didn’t look... from around here tho

your attention’s immediately fixated on your bracelet, the one on his mouth as he only tilts his head when you do the same, an eager squeal breaking him out

hold on

wait a second

you’ve seen this in the tv sometimes!!! they were uh creatures that liked being by themselves in the sea

lol which is basically every sea creature

but the narrator said something about them looking like humans???

AND BESIDES

you overhear your dad talking about them sometimes

AND THEN IT HITS

THE HANDSOME FACE!! THE SHINY PRETTY-

up and age???

opened etch????

how do u spell that again

THE TAIL!!! THE PRETTY TAIL LOOKING LIKE THING!!!

“o-oh!! you’re-...”

“t-taehyung...?”

the boy who looks like your age replies, looking unsure of himself yet didn’t want to disappoint you either

you meant merman but it’s okay!!

your hands retrieve the bracelet from his mouth, a little giggle at the complexity of the situation

he was completely sold at that

this was his first human!!! his first actual human interaction and it wasn’t really bad as what his brothers painted out to be

you and taehyung took off from then and ya know what,,, maybe you even start purposefully dropping things in the water if you feel a little impatient that he hasn’t peeked his head yet

and yes yes that’s a completely iRRESPONSIBLE thing and your dad stopped you before you could possibly throw out a whole backpack into the water

which was weird for him to look at because there’s absolutely no one he could see in the water

it was a routine that not one of you ever skipped on once!!

even if you were sick and tae thinks that it’s the most pathetic thing because he doesn’t EVER get sick??? sue him for having a cold because he’s in the water 24/7 yea

even if one was late and wouldn’t be able to see the other, there would be an item placed by the deck as proof that they were indeed there!!

tae sometimes leaves a random conch shell or even seaweed in the shape of a heart when he’s swamped with his arrangements

even if there’s a storm, which taehyung absolutely loves because the water’s all cold!!! and it gives him a fun little ride when the waves are all wonky

you leave out a lunchbox that’s snug in a fixed mailbox (you forced yoongi to attach it) by the side of the deck poles and that would count as your attendance

“yes he is! we’ve been doing this everyday without fail for like, twelve years already.”

you are totally UNBELIEVABLE

yoongi snorts, almost choking on his waffles with how hard he did it

“and you’re twelve years dumb.”

ok now you take offense

huh???

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you can’t be any more clueless, can you??

as if on cue, there’s the familar flop and splash that you nudge yoongi to be in his best behavior

taehyung makes his afternoon appearance by outlandishly doing his trick in the air, undoubtedly giving you a splash you’re used to by now

he literally does not care at the thought of anyone possible seeing him

besides, they physically can’t anyway because there’s a spell cast onto the area, allowing nobody to see them besides you

... and yoongi ://

he’s rather grand with his gestures and his words and even before taehyung knew the common lingo on ground, you could tell he was a little more stubborn with his strong expressions

after all, taehyung’s a prince at sea but at land.,.,.,.

<3 well <3

“i’m here!”

taehyung bEAMS radiantly, making you crouch and hold out your hands, him putting his face out immediately for you to squish

“oh, oh! i got you something, y/n!”

he seems to remember out of the blue in the middle of chewing his waffles, yoongi having to suppress another sigh

the prettiest pearl necklace :-)

“tae i already told you that-...”

you’re about to start berating him again with the gifts because what seemed to be so ordinary for him is very fAR from yours

you pout and tae only pushes the necklce to you further, not taking no for answer when he had to squint his eyes extra hard to look for the pearls this morning

to be honest you have sO much jewelry from taehyung

the common theme of it was of course they’re something you could get at sEA

and whenever people ask you about them, u have no idea how to tell where you got them

today’s pearl necklace was a little different — something more dainty and smaller and wraps around your neck like a choker would, a little more suited for everyday wear

“thank you!!!”

you smooch taehyung on the cheek extra quick and it takes every fiber in his tail to stop squealing

yoongi watches you two be disgustingly sweet and PLATONIC yet again, and he could only zero in on the pearl necklace around your neck

that is the fifth time this week

that is the fifth set of pearls you’ve gotten this week

normally you’d get a pearl every now and then and the often minuature sand sculptures

but this week changes the wHOLE ball game

“do you want a pearl ring?”

taehyung wiggles his eyebrows, boxy smile on full display and he looks breathtaking in the golden hours that you immediately poke his cheek

yoongi’s eyes widen because that’s literally-

you don’t seem to find the weight on his question because you only let out a non-commital sound and whisk him away on another conversation about his day

he’s long since dropped out of yours and taehyung’s conversation, going back to the concierge because his presence is required

and he still can’t shake off how CLUELESS you are

it’s when the night gets a little more chilly and you could see taehyung go beneath the water more often, taking it as a sign that he’s going back and his brothers are looking for him

“night-night, tae.”

you offer the top of his head a kiss, rushing back to the cabana to put on your coat and right on time, you miss the way taehyung’s eyes are bigger than a goldfish’s

(@_@)

oh my god

oh my fucking god

taehyung really hATES you

he hates you so much!!!!

SO SO MUCH

he resigns back into the water and he doesn’t even move at all

just defeatedly sits on the seabed and his aura effectively puts off everything around him

his heart’s beyond heavy and his eyes sting and he never wants to resurface ever again

he’s trying not to get upset too much because his emotions have the capacity of changing the tide and it would literally resonate through the seas if he gets even more sad

taehyung’s trying to rEPRESS everything back in but it’s no use :((

“hey, hey, calm down. what’s wrong?”

his brother immediately swims to his side at the first slight tremor he felt, having only little trouble in locating him

“i-i asked y/n if she wanted a pearl-...” tae stutters and he has to physically hold his chest to not sOB at your name, an insurmountable feeling of dread at his chest

yeah, you! namjoon knows you

in fact all his brothers know you and you’ve met each other multiple times, but not as often as you and tae did

they don’t need to see you everyday to know that taehyung is head over tails in LOVE with you

the mention of you and their brother’s gifts in the same sentence isn’t anything new

“okay? but you give her pearls all the time? and-”

“... ring.”

pearl ring

“yeah? and what did she say?”

joon himself tries to quell the distress he feels because taehyung’s emotions are morE than potent to affect to everyone, most especially his brothers

he sees the others swimming to them from afar, worried frowns already on their faces and namjoon doesn’t want to panic even more

“nothing!! she said nOTHING!!!!”

jungkook tilts his head, cheeks puffed out as he tries to diffuse the situation

“but tae, it could mean-...”

“nothing. y/n absolutely wants nothing to do with me!”

taehyung half-huffs and half-sobs, immediately swimming past them that leaves them confused and with a headache

this was definitely going to be a problem

it already is

today has got to be the slowest day ever

the water is so still and timid

oh my god it literally just looks like tap water in a bathtub that’s untouched

you’ve noticed in the first thing in the morning

was it nORMAL to have the water so still???? practically no waves at all??? not even ripples????

you must be losing your mind right

you dragged yoongi from the concierge desk all the way outside

he squints his eyes because the water.... is definitely not supposed to be this way....

“huh. now that’s just odd.”

some of your patrons don’t seem to mind at all because that just means they could go take their pictures without waves putting their phones at risk

but nO

most especially the swimmers n the surfers and even the lifeguard are all ????

everyone’s collectively looking at the water

yoongi takes a twig and just pokes at it to go do ATLEAST something, but even the ripples it produces are mundane

the water is too still and it makes you miss the one who makes it all better

you spend the better part of your whole day in your sundress and hanging around the cabana, yoongi scrunching his nose up at the fact that he seemed to be more active than the actual hotelier here today

“taehyung doesn’t go up for another seven hours, y’know?”

he finds you sitting by the edge of the deck, feet vigorously splashing around the water without any resistance at all that it feels so unnerving

“yea i know that... just wanted to hang out with him.”

you murmur out the last part, making yoongs do a double-take at his boss who was never this soft-spoken

“and that’s what you’ve been doing ever since childhood? sit by the edge then hang out?”

he wants to push a couple of buttons to get you out of your phase of the day today, but he only gets some insistent nodding and nothing more

“that’s so mundane. that’s literally a decade-long routine!!”

“it’s a routine i don’t mind!!”

and that’s true

it’s a routine you want to do with the rest of your life because it now feels like the equivalent of showering basically

you feel so incomplete without it and satisfaction doesn’t settle on your bones until you do it with taehyung :D

“surely, there must be sOME reason for taehyung to not get bored from doing the same thing with you, right?”

alright one more nudge

you’re considerably more perky now that’s for sure

but that doesn’t mean any less clueless unfortunately

“must be the food!!”

oh my god,,,,,, u are so dumb

he leaves you alone and you don’t even question it because you’re too busy waiting for taehyung

you expect the tide to change when it’s already noon but really, nothing happens still

5:20 passes and he still isn’t there

it’s time for dinner and yoongi has to fetch you aLL the way from the other side of the wings he needed to supervised because you’re spending all your time waiting

you were supposed to have dinner with staff tonight but you don’t even think twice in telling him to go eat without you, giving the company card more than eagerly

“don’t you think it’s time to go home?”

yoongi pipes up when they’ve finished dinner and you’re still there

he feels so sorry for you :((

“w-what if he shows up last minute?”

there’s still hope in your voice and he doesn’t want to taint it as much as people

“hey. they need sleep too. you should go get some for yourself too, okay? now just leave a cookie or something,” he has to pry you off the deck himself, not wanting to feel any more sorry for you because you’re starting to tremble with how chilly the air is

taehyung doesn’t resurface the next day

or the next

and the day after that

taehyung doesn’t show up the entire week.

you’re worried OUT of your mind and you’re tempted to just take your dad’s yacht and sail across the water to try and look for him

or oR maybe you should get one of the divers to try and look for him!!!! but no that wouldn’t work, would it??

how about you go and look for tae yourself???

yoongi’s been busy with the hotel bc the actual hotelier of it (read: you) is too busy MOPING

you’ve ditched your sundresses and waited in hoodies and sweatpants you could roll up in the morning and roll down at night to wait for him

most people don’t even recognize you as the owner and they just walk rIGHT past you when they see you in the hallways

you’ve also been stress-making waffles that you reek of the batter and butter, the staff now having an abundance of experimental ones that you’ve made

you’re definitely not okay

“uh y/n you really rEALLY need to go to sleep.,.,”

yoongi gapes at you when he visits you at the cabana, clearing his schedule out to go watch over you and bc your dad won’t sit still with how unkempt you’ve been

he gestures to the hammock you’ve always begged him to put up, but his handiwork’s wASTED because you don’t even spend more than five seconds looking at it

you should be screaming with glee by now :((

how in the world could he possibly distract you from crushing sadness and worry

he’s been brainstorming the past week and his head’s even more hollow than the decorative coconuts in the gift shop

... wait a minute

hey this has got to be his most stupid idea but the one with the most promising results!!!!!

11/10 risky but it’s the cLOSEST he could get!!

“hey do you wanna do something stupid??”

your eyes glance at him immediately because it’s the first question he’s ever asked you besides if you’re okay or when was the last time you slept or when do you intend on picking yourself up

yoongi fishes for his tablet and whips up a video immediately, only taking minutes for him to explain and seconds for you to agree

it’s what made you end up this way

it’s the reason in your swimsuit with your legs all the way inside a duvet cover and the corners of it knotted tightly on your waist

you don’t know how yoongi’s managed to convince you to race him in swimming with your whole lower body inside a king-sized dUVET cover from one of the cabanas whose guests are arriving in an hour, but here you are lmao

“first one to the furthest cabana wins, alright?”

he practically yelps in explaining in an effort to hype you up and a hundred dollars dOES seem to make him excited himself

you’re buzzing for the first time in the week and it’s the panicked shoves you try to give each other before starting that kicks you off in an eager mood

“GO!”

you immediately dive in and you don’t expect the heaviness of your makeshift tail behind you, momentarily cussing yourself because wHY on earth did you get the high-quality ones smh ://

oh my god this is so fucking stupid and oddly enough, you’re ENJOYING it

you can’t exactly paddle your legs fluidly like the times when they aren’t wrapped in a duvet, and the distance of the last cabana seems so tiring now that u think about it

yoongi’s already ahead and you don’t get HOW has he managed to come that far???

also not to mention that the gap between the two of you is large and now you’re just struggling to even move

also doesn’t help oNE bit with how good of a handyman yoongi also is because that is one secure knot you got there sir

it’s only dawning in you that you’re NOT well-versed in swimming!!

not even close to an expert!!! all you know are the basics

but the basics seem hard to even apply when you’re dragging a king-sized duvet cover by your legs

you’d expect more skills from someone whose family owns water-centric properties bUT NO <3

you’re flailing almost to the bottom and your eyes sting then your limbs feel heavy

you’re not necessarily drowning either, it just feels so difficult to swim back up

you’re about to try again and boost yourself up by pushing from the floor but then suddenly you’re being HAULED BACK UP

you have no chance to even try and get away because you know that the hand around your waist aren’t yoongi’s

“are you out of your goddamn mind???”

you instinctively take a big gulp of air when you come up the surface, legs fluttering now that you have some type of support to keep you up

“why would you do this?? who did this??”

the deep voice only registers in you seconds later that it’s taehyung who’s in front of you and holding you up, staring you down intensely

your puzzlement only frustrates him even more, going back down while keeping his hands on your waist before he untangles the duvet cover by your legs rather quickly and powerfully

he emerges back up and he’s looking at you with sO much stress that you wanna dive back down

“y-yoo-...”

you don’t even manage to finish speaking before taehyung snaps his gaze away from you and really yELLS

“YOONGI!!!”

as if he didn’t manage to startle you enough, he looks back at you and pats at you all over out of instinct, wanting to know if you’re hurt by any means

you’re more shocked but it’s over the fact that you’re finally seeing him again

this isn’t the first time you’ve swam with taehyung but this IS the first time in this context

you’ve never been this close to him either and you’re out of breath just by looking at him

he doesn’t seem to share the sentiment though because he looks like he’s gonna pull his hair out in both relief and frustration

“oh my god! i fucking thought that my soulmate would die in a — i-in a bedsheet!”

you are so ridiculous that it actually makes his heart clench

he intentionally didn’t come to see you for a week because he was so hurt over your rejection

he did see you from a distance and he also has a particular someone to watch over you, but he never imagined that you’d be doing THIS

his heart just minutes ago was beating against his ribcage because his soulmate was in danger!!! he physically and literally cannot drown but that’s what it felt like

“i’m your soulmate?”

your breathless gasp explains it all

oh so...

oh my god how could you have nOT known this all along???

HOW COULD YOU BE SO OBLIVIOUS

taehyung probably acted this way and most especially that way when he ignored you!!!

you vaguely remember yoongi telling you that pearls PROBABLY mean a lot to taehyung even if the tone he’s used on you is beyond certain

the pearl ring was meant for courting!!!

that explains why yoongi gasped and looked at you inrcredulously!!!!

no he’s been courting you ALL this time

you are so..... insuffeable

“i’m so sorry!!”

you’ve crammed in twelve years of experience into two minutes of critical thinking, throwing your arms around taehyung and burying your face into his neck

he grunts a bit at that but he’s not complaining at all

“you mUST hate me,” you frown and the need to cry overpowers you, taehyung sensing it again which is why he immediately strokes your nape in comfort

“i could never.”

the waves come back and even if they’re present, the water was calming

you’re too entranced with tae and your realizations to even notice that the water felt so much better compared to when it was dead still

it’s when you hear a familiar set of giggles that you sNAP your head in anger

yOONGI????

yoongi’s much more near you now, floating and floating until you make the move to look down and see not a duvet cover, but rather a tangerine-colored tail by him

all you’ve been doing this day is squeaking

tae, although still a lil bit mad at yoongi because he’s endangered you, smiles at his informant who’s helped make him last through the week

“half-merman!! i’m sorry if i didn’t tell you sooner, y/n. but since tae’s full, that’s the reason he could only come on land once a month! and since i’m half, i could only come underwater once a month!!”

he grins at his explanation he’s been trying to piece together for the last couple of months

ok maybe years

it probably explained to why it’s no accident that he’s clicked with you instantly and he trusts you with his whole life!! you were truly a gentle human that’s an all-rounder

also explains to why yoongi wasn’t all THAT shocked when you brought him out one day on his first year of working and pleaded taehyung to rise up with only even his eyes blinking up at him

no wonder tae warmed up to yoongi quick even if he did say he had distrust with majority of humans!!

how could you not doubt for one second that it’s the reason why he’s always been really good at swimming too and holding his breath

yoongi chose his day of the month to be today because you were so down in the dumps, and aLSO for the reasoning that he missed the boys so that’s why he’s going down there in a heartbeat

taehyung pinches at your thigh, a bright grin on your face when you come face to face with him after waving yoongi goodbye

“are you gonna make me wait another twelve years more?”

he pecks your cheek and it doesn’t feel platonic anymore, a giddy smile in realization that you’ve finally come to your senses

“would you mind?”

://

the teasing lilt in your voice doesn’t seem to go anywhere anytime soon hee-hee

“maybe a little but-“

“no more waiting.”

you kiss taehyung and almost launch yourself at him, savoring the taste of him on your tongue that he has to grip your thighs around his waist a little tighter

yeah ur a little slow but ur spirits are high!! you’re on the right direction!!

you’re definitely worth waiting for

and panicking over

and courting

and loving

280 notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

—————————————————

Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

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thewistlingbadger · 3 years ago

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Mixed Signals

Summary: Emily and Spencer are trying to see if Derek likes Spencer. Derek is trying to figure out if he's gay with the help from Penelope. The 4 of them come to the realization that they are NOT on the same page at a club, where Emily and Spencer make out to see if Derek will get jealous.

CW: Platonic Spencer/Emily, friends who kiss, Derek has bi panic, gender non-conforming Spencer Reid, intimate friendship, inappropriate language, kiss in the rain, miscommunication, love confessions, first kiss. Y'all asked for me to post the stuff i got in my notes so here ya go. Enjoy.

Okay. So Emily and Spencer definitely came to the club with something up their sleeve. Spencer had always kept quiet about his crush on Derek. After all, the year was 2008. Gay marriage wasn't legal and if you were out you could be called slurs, or worse. And in the workplace? You could be terminated. The only person he ever came close to telling was Elle, but then one moment she was here, the next, gone.

Emily tried her best to be shocked at the news. It takes one to know one, she told herself. But nevertheless she made sure that he knew she was a safe space and that all she cared about was his comfort. He ranted to her about gender dysphoria and wanting to tap into his feminity, but being too afraid to do so. He asked her if she thought Derek liked him back, and tonight, they would find out.

Everyone knew Emily Prentiss was a lesbian. She made it no secret, while also making sure you minded your own business. She read queer romance novels on the jet, there was a pride flag on her desk and if you asked her what was on her calendar, she would tell you next Wednesday she had a meeting with her local LGBTQ+ advocates and that there would be a march next month, if you wanted to come.

In the same breath, she had no problem kissing Reid. They both knew that there was nothing romantic about the them. Kissing just...helped them both I guess. When Spencer would come over because he was having nightmares, Emily would scoot over in bed and make room for him. When she would get up around noon, Spencer would wrap his arms around her and kiss the side of her head as she brushed her teeth. Or when she could tell he was getting overwhelmed, she'd pepper his face with kisses till he'd be calm again.

Most people said I love you in words but for them, they had heard those words growing up from the mouths that did not mean it. Their kisses were tangible, real. They said I love, care, and respect you without even needing to pronounce a syllable.

Everyday, Derek came crying for help in Peneople's corner. He had never considered being anything but straight but his pretty boy got him second guessing himself. Derek didn't have the luxury of being able to figure himself out while young. And now that he was an adult, an established FBI agent, he feared it was too late. Penelope was his shoulder to cry on, filling his ears with positive affirmations. Giving him flyers to queer support groups and telling him when pride would be rolling into town.

"What if I don't like men and I just like pretty boy? Do I even like him like that? What if I'm just overthinking it?" "Well then you'll find out tonight." Peneople said with a wink. She ordered another round as Spencer and Emily found their way to the booth.

Derek tried to act normal but he couldn't help but notice how smug the both of them. Like they were inside a joke, and Derek wasn't. It made something rise in Derek, he just didn't know what.

Spencer still couldn't piece it all together. The looks, the touchs, the names, they had to mean something. Despite contrary belief, he wasn't all that oblivious. He knew Derek had been flirting with him for years. But why? Derek was always pulling girls whenever they went out to places like this and he never had shown interest in men. So why would he like Reid? Although, thought of Spencer being the only male that Derek was attracted to made his heart flutter, he knew it was unrealistic.

"Hey. Wanna dance?" Emily said putting her hand on his shoulder. He smiled. She always knew how to do that, pull him out of thought. As he got up he started to think about all the things he loved about her. Her gentleness without making him feel babied, her understanding without having the ability to understand what he was going through, the way she knew things about him that he didn't tell her that only he knew.

Like how he didn't need to drink to be a good time. As their bodies pressed together and they moved to the RNB beat, they laughed at each other. "Don't forget the task at hand Spence." She teased. "What task? The task of finding you a girlfriend? Because let me tell you, she won't come if your hair is looking like that!" He started to run his fingers through her hair which just made her laugh more.

Derek was watching them have fun while he was downing his drink. "What's wrong Derek, this is your scene! This is where Derek Morgan is Derek Morgan. And let me tell you, Derek Morgan? He does NOT sit at the booth like a sad puppy when the love of his life is out there dancing! Something that is a rare sight for our eyes!" He sighed, taking another sip from the glass, but he stayed glued to the leather seat.

"C'mon Derek! Do something! If you're not gonna go after Reid go after another dude! Or a gal! Scout out the area, look for someone who seems worth while! There's only one single friend out of the 4 of us and right now it's looking like it's gonna be me because Emily is having a grand old time with Reid."

Glad to know he wasn't going crazy, he responded. "Yeah, speaking of which, since when are they so close? Like you said, we barely get to see Reid dance. Then all of a sudden he's taking Prentiss's hand and they're grinding it up on the dancefloor?" He couldn't leave the irritation of his voice.

"Jealous much?" She wiggled her eyebrows. He rolled his eyes. "Don't you think it's weird?" Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. Of course not dummy! If you haven't figured out what Emily Prentiss was by now, you probably never will! Ignoring her thoughts, she asked "well what do you think it is?" He stared at the pair, trying to get get ahold of what it all meant but he turned away, empty handed.

"Did you see that? He was staring at us for a long time..." Spencer said looking over Emily's shoulder. "Do you think it's working?" "I don't know...he looked upset...he's drinking right now. Mil, I don't want to do this if he's drunk..." Emily could hear the doubt stirring in him. She didn't want to push him but she had the feeling that this would be the only chance. She wouldn't get Spencer to agree with her on this again.

"Hey." She tilted his chin down toward her. "It's your call." She smiled. God, you just gotta love her, he thought. He smiled and went for it.

"Hey, they moved away from the dance floor. Where'd they go?" Derek said sitting up straight searching over the crowd of clubbers. "I don't know..." Penelope now getting concerned. She stood up and-

"oh my god-" "What?! Are they hurt?! What's going o-" his search for them was interrupted by Penelope's hands clutching the sides of his face and directing it to the right side of the room, were he could see Emily and Spencer making out.

They both just stood there, jaws on the floor. "I thought she didn't swing that way..." Penelope said, shocked to her core. "Reid?" Morgan said, not as if he was calling for him but as if he was surprised that Emily was kissing Spencer. Or was Spencer kissing her? Unlike the last time he was staring at them, he was now paying attention to every detail. The way Emily's tight long sleeve shirt left nothing to the imagination and how she was pulling Reid in by the inside of his pants, then feeling him up after. She smirked mischievously into his lips, as if it were just a game.

Reid on the other hand, looked like he was about to cum on sight. He was still playing with he hair like how he was on the dancefloor, but this time his eyes were screwed tight. He barely moved his mouth meaning that A, Prentiss was doing all the work and B, when he did move his mouth it was in the smallest way possible and by god did he look amazing. Holy shit, did he just see some tongue?! Oh fuck, Derek thought, the realization hitting him like a truck. I like both of them.

He continued to watch them. Spence's hair was getting in his face and Emily was too busy teasing him by thumbing the hem of his sweater vest to notice. Derek could tell how much it was bothering him but he also seemed so carefree, so trapped in the moment, the sensations. He moved his head back ever so slightly, as if to ask for more but her mouth never left his.

When they parted, Derek could swear he saw a string of saliva in between them. Damn. This is not what I expected would happen tonight. He thought maybe he'd see a beautiful girl or a handsome dude, giving him an answer he'd been craving; Gifting him the knowledge he had wanted this whole time. But that? Whatever the fuck he just saw? Left him with more questions than answers.

"Derek? Are you okay?" He snapped out of it and looked at Peneople who had a worried expression on her face. That's when he realized that she hadn't been ogling at them the whole time like how he was. "Did that answer your questions?" She tried to approach in a different way. "I uhh." No words could form. "Oh, he's having a gay panic moment-" "No it was definitely for both of them." he blurted without being able to stop himself.

Penelope spit the shot out of her mouth. "You like them BOTH?" "No I-" He was completely out of his element. He started racking his brain, trying to process what he just saw. Why was that so hot? If he had a crush on Reid (like he thought he had the whole time) then wouldn't seeing his boy being kissed make him freak out? But somehow, seeing Spencer being man handled by Emily made him speachless. An "ohhhh" from Penelope was what broke him out of thought. "Well, congratulations Derek. I think you just might like guys and girls."

"Holy shit" they laughed hysterically. Spencer was about to fall to the floor. "What was that?" Emily laughed. "I was trying to make it look believable!" "Yeah by acting like a slut? Okay." She went off in a giggling fit. "Well I think it worked." "No shit?" She asked, looking to the booth. Both Derek and Penelope were standing up. "Well I'll be damned. I don't think I've ever seen him that red." she smiled "holy shit. I did that?" "Hell yeah you did! go get 'im lover boy." He hugged her and thanked her for her help, then made his way back to the booth. He got intercepted by peneople on the way there.

"So. What the fuck was that?" Peneople shouted over the music. "Go ask Emily! I'm going to Morgan." What? "oH!" The pieces somewhat clicking into place. "Oh my god how did I not know!" She gave him a hug. He gave an uncomfortable chuckle "thanks Penelope. But I really gotta go-" "But! He likes you too!" Penelope called after him but Spencer was already too far away to hear. God damn the level of miscommunication that's going on right now! Annoyed at the circumstances, she walked off to Prentiss.

Spencer slid the booth, "Hey." Spencer said. He shifted uncomfortably. A few seconds ago he was having the time of his laughing with a friend. Now he sat across from a different friend, a friend who he didn't want to be friends with. The person he wanted something more with looked down at the ground with a hand over his mouth.

Spencer frowned "what's wrong?" Reaching for the other's hand. Derek looked at him, doe eyed. "Boys." Was all he said. Huh? He had never seen Derek like this. "...Do you wanna dance?" He asked concerned. Derek nodded rapidly and they were off.

Whatever groove Spencer had while dancing with Emily had left because he was back to his normal stiffness. He wondered what was wrong with him but he couldn't decide what it was considering the amount of events that had just occurred. How do I make this less weird? What does he want? Spencer's thoughts reflected on his face.

Fuck. What's going on? Derek wondered. Sure, they were swaying and he had his hands on him, a big improvement on their relationship but he knew something was off about Spencer. So naturally, that's when Derek turned on his profiler mode and started pawing for answers.

"I was watching you earlier, you had some moves pretty boy. Didn't know that about you." There's a lot you don't know about me the genius thought. Instead he responded with "really?" "Yeah. I thought you didn't dance." "I'm not good at it." Spencer laughed. Derek couldn't resist rolling his eyes at the comments. You were practically fucking on the dancefloor talk about 'I'm not good at it.' Boy please. Spencer caught his eyes rolling though. Becoming defensive, he said "we were just being silly. It didn't mean anything." "That make out didn't look so silly. Looked pretty serious from where I was standing."

Spencer was taken aback. Was he mad at him? There was a hint of protectiveness but why would Derek be protective over him when he was with Emily? They've known Emily for a while now, they trust her.

Spencer didn't let him slide away with the snideness. "So what's your problem tonight. Had too many drinks and are now pissed you're not the only one who knows how to have fun?"

"I'm not drunk." Derek grumbled. "Oh really? Derek we've been here 2 hours now and the whole time all you've done is sit down with Penny and drink drinks. And all of a sudden you're acting all strange? How do you explain that hm?" Derek looked away realizing his error, licking his lips.

You're gonna profile me? Two can play it that way. "It's the fact that it's Prentiss huh. Do you like her?" Derek still couldn't meet his eyes. "Or did you just think I couldn't get her?" Spencer wasn't one who got easily mad but the bullshit Derek was pulling was infuriating. Do I just let the cat out of the bag or do I see how he plays it out?There's too many mixed signals going on.

Spencer scoffed annoyingly, letting go of Derek and storming off. "Kid wait!" God damn it Derek this is the one thing you're not supposed to fuck up. Emily stood up from the table that she was at with Penelope. "What's going on?" "I don't know!" They both watched Spencer leave. "Oh no..." "What the f-...he likes him Emily I swear! It's all he's been talking to me about for months! I really don't know what's going on!" Emily tried to make her way through the crowd but Derek was already out the door, trying to reach Spencer.

This is just fucking great. I go out to a club, a place that I already don't like just to try to make a move on some dude, some asshole, and now it's raining. Could it seriously get worse? "Spencer, c'mon man!" Derek heard him curse in a language he didn't understand. "I don't have time for bullshit Derek! Don't waste my time!" He kept walking back towards him.

Derek caught up to him, his feet splashing into puddles. "Look man, I'm sorry. Just let me explain!" Spencer didn't even look at him, he just kept walking. As a final attempt, Derek grabbed his hand, Spencer now facing him. "I'm not trying to waste your time pretty boy. Or bullshit you." The rain drops sliding down both their faces. Despite there being no light other the moon, they looked into each other's eyes. Derek didn't have a firm grip on Spencer's hand, but Spencer didn't feel the need to let go.

"You should start explaining yourself because I don't like dealing with nonsense." His chest rising and falling with every deep breath he took. "For the past couple of months I thought I was seeing you differently so I talked to Peneople about it. She suggested we go to the club to see if I liked you or if I only liked girls or maybe even if I liked men in general. When I saw you and Emily kissing, I- I can't explain it. I liked it. I liked watching you two kiss but then you came over to me and I started feeling jealous and I don't know what's going on with me-" "shut up." Spencer grabbed Derek by the collar of his wet shirt and their mouths smashed together.

It wasn't a pretty sight. It wasn't delicate like how most people want their first kisses to be. But it reflected every emotion that the both of them had felt that night. The rain helping their mouths slide together, the small droplets getting smushed when their checks or chins touched. Derek thought that getting kissed by Spencer looked good but oh man did it feel better to actually be kissed by him. Derek slid his fingers through his hair, imitating Spencer when he kissed Prentiss. The water droplets clinging to the ends of his finger tips. Their bodies closer than Reid's and Emily's ever were.

Spencer pulled away, resting his forehead on Derek's. They both felt the breath of the other, the rapid in and outs trying to get back to their normal speed's. Spencer still had his fingers on Derek's collar, still keeping him close. "Please tell me that that cleared up some stuff for you." Spencer breathed.

"We could be that. Friends who kiss but not romantically." Derek offered. All he knew was that he would die a sad man if that was the only time he'd get to kiss Reid. "If we kiss, I'd like it to be in a romantic way. I didn't spend countless hours watching you go home with countless women to not have you kiss me in a romantic way Derek." Derek laughed at his bluntness. "Alright kid. Good. Because I wouldn't have it any other way." He went in for another kiss, and Spencer happily kissed him back.

"I think it did." Derek panted back. Spencer moved his arms around Derek's neck, pulling him into a hug. "I've had a huge crush on you for forever. I didn't say anything because I didn't think you were gay. Emily and I only kissed like that to see what your reaction would be. I don't like her, she doesn't like me. We're just friends. There's no romance behind it." He explained, still hugging him.

By: Mic

#mic writes fanfiction #criminal minds #cm #spencer reid #moreid #derek morgan #emily prentiss #peneople garcia #emily and spencer #emily prentiss and spencer reid #spemily: friends who kiss #bi derek morgan #bi spencer reid #Derek has bi panic #kiss in the rain #wingwoman penelope garcia #wingwoman emily prentiss #gender non conforming spencer reid

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wordsinwinters · 3 years ago

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Then Again, Chapter 7: Implosion at the Pool

Summary: After an intense fight and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Betas: @fanboyswhereare-you and @girl-tips-from-satan

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Then Again, Chapter 7: Implosion at the Pool

(Word count: 1,580)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29,

I often expect too much, set my sights a little too high. I know this, so I always prepare myself in case nothing goes according to plan.

For example: I had hoped this second annual break-into-the-hotel-pool activity would be easy, that everyone would come willingly, and we would have fun before the tournament tomorrow. Still, I prepared myself for a few bumps. For example, if Peter refused, if the entire thing flopped because everyone was worried about getting enough sleep, or if someone in the hotel caught us and reported it to Mr. Harrington, I was prepared, I had contingency plans.

Strangely enough, everyone crept out on time and Peter barely hesitated at all. Well, Michelle did force him from the start, heading off his first protest too quickly for him to find another: “Dude, just say you’ve been working out. Nobody’s going to get suspicious because you’re jacked. Even Flash can’t turn that,” she motioned to Peter’s entire body, “into a joke.”

Yet I’m more uneasy now than if everything had gone wrong. I’m not even concerned about getting caught. Mr. Harrington is watching Jurassic Park in his room and checking the hallway at ten-minute intervals and I’m almost certain the hotel staff knows we’re here, but doesn’t care.

Nevertheless, I’m just… anxious.

It might have to do with how the boys are stacked upon one another in the shallow end for Chicken and, given the small area of the pool, injuries are on the table. It might have to do with Flash’s new habit of winking at me and being, in general, insanely obnoxious. It might also have to do with the fact that my friends are being abnormally secretive. (I hate to use Flash’s words, but he’s sort of right. It’s the best description. Even once I got back in my room, MJ and Ned kept sending texts— I have no idea who to, though I would guess between them and Peter.)

Admittedly, my nerves might also be connected to Liz, whose face I can see across the water. As our team captain, Michelle thought it would be nice to Facetime her, ask about college, and show her that her pool idea has become a tradition.

Liz’s dorm room is beautiful, from what I can make out. She has calendars and planners neatly pinned up, Christmas lights outlining them. Photos hang from mini clothespins on a string and she even has a little library set up on her windowsill with a porcelain cat-shaped bookend. It’s like a freaking Pinterest photo. I’ve always been somewhat jealous of her, but I know that outside of our past disagreements and my envy for her style and Peter’s (old? current?) crush on her, I am glad she seems happy. Everyone knows how much she’s been going through.

As Abe and Peter pretend to duke it out on Flash and Ned’s shoulders, the light of Liz from Michelle’s phone skips through the ripples, illuminating them like the sunset against the tide. I keep zoning out and staring at the pattern. I feel weird staying on the other side of the pool with her there, but I don’t know Liz that well outside of the team and truth be told, she always intimidated me. Even before our… fight seems like a strong word, our spat? She just… has things together. Even now, after such a horrible year. She’s wonderful and precise and good in every way a person can be. I feel minuscule by comparison.

Then again, it might be the overwhelming smell of chlorine that’s getting into my head and putting me off. Plus, all the glints of light swimming across the glass walls — making them reflect further like a hall of mirrors — are beginning to strain my eyes. Part of me just wants to sleep. To climb out from the water, change into some pajamas, and go to bed and forget this.

But I can’t. So I tread water alone in the corner, watching and listening and feeling like an idiot for isolating myself.

Does anyone really want me here in the first place?

Stop thinking like that.

I try to listen to Liz’s voice as a distraction. It’s muffled with echo, but it’s audible.

“With my AP scores, a bunch of my gen ed credits are already taken care of. But I want to take my other gen eds seriously. I have Global Ethics, Statistics, and World Journalism on Mondays and Wednesdays, then Into to Biological Chemistry and Public Relations on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

The words bounce from wall to wall, shadowing splashes and voices and little bright doses of laughter from the boys. I close my eyes for three seconds as if to catalog the moment. I have to admit, it’s pretty much perfect.

Then why do I feel so nervous?

In the same way that some days just feel so good, some nights just really, really don’t.

Flash catches my eye. God, here we go. He’s smirking.

My stomach drops. I don’t think I can handle him right now.

“Hey!” he calls. “Y/N, you should join in! Hold on, let me clear you a spot.”

He jerks his body back to make Abe fall from his shoulders, hitting the water with a hard splash.

“There, now you have a place to sit,” Flash says, patting his own shoulders.

Abe stands up, shaking water from his ears before shoving Flash underwater. Ned laughs as Flash comes back up sputtering. Peter, on Ned’s shoulders, has little reaction. Michelle rolls her eyes and turns back to the girls’ conversation.

“It’s more fun watching, trust me.” Watching Peter shirtless, my brain adds.

Stop thinking about him. Despite his smile this morning (it was idiotic of me to think it meant anything significant), Peter has remained pretty cold to me today. Just like everyone else.

Michelle looks back our way again.

“Actually, yeah. We’ll play,” she decides.

If I had more energy, if I weren’t feeling so despondent, and if it wasn’t her this-is-happening-don’t-argue voice, I might put up a better fight. Instead, I give a quiet defeated groan and make my way over to the shallow end. Sometimes it’s easier to do as she says.

“Michelle in a chicken fight?” Liz laughs, her voice reverberating on all sides of my head. “I can’t wait to see this.”

“Oh, no,” Michelle answers as she shakes her head. “Y/N is up top. I’m not getting involved in that business.”

I sigh and try to ignore the fact my limbs are starting to shake. Just a little. Not enough for anyone to notice. But enough that it reminds me of the first twinges of body aches from a fever.

“Abe, mind if I fight Flash this round?” I ask.

If I have to do this, I want to be against the one person I wouldn’t mind actually fighting.

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” Abe says. “I’m sick of him. Plus, if he has the chance, I know he’ll piss on me.”

Despite my exhaustion, I can’t help laughing a little. It’s definitely true. But if Abe sits out, there’s no chance that Ned or Peter will team up with Flash.

Flash knows this too. Shrugging, he follows Abe away from the center, saying hello to Liz.

Shit.

I climb onto Michelle’s shoulders, the air making me shiver more, my ankles hanging just low enough to stay in the warm water. I stare blankly at the situation. It’s me and Michelle, Peter and Ned. And I’ve barely spoken to them since they all locked me out earlier. I wouldn’t want to disrupt their texting.

I do my best not to tug Michelle’s hair as I steady myself.

Now what?

Everybody else is talking again, Liz included. I’m glad their attention is elsewhere.

Staring at Peter, who’s staring at me, it’s clear neither of us knows what to do. Things have definitely gotten stale and bizarre between us over the last day, and it's gotten worse than I ever thought possible over the last few hours. I feel like an idiot. But I’d be a moron to think it’s all because of some impulsive hug. Something in our friendship is stuttering, I can feel it faltering and falling away.

Abruptly unstable ground— that’s what it is, I realize, staring at him. And everybody has been able to see it coming but me. How else could Flash see it?

Thinking of all the shitty ways Peter has ignored me today, yesterday, and this past week, I shove him with as much force as I can muster, knowing it’ll be nothing to him anyway.

Peter’s legs are over his head a moment later. If it were a real fall, it would have been instant. The rippling disturbance of the water churns up more chlorine fumes. I can feel a headache spreading from the base of my skull.

“Come on, Peter,” I say while he stands and pushes wet hair out of his eyes. “Don’t pretend to let me win.”

“You caught me off guard,” he replies. All of the prior playful attitude he had with Abe is gone. He’s trying — I can actually see him trying — to seem blank.

What is his problem with me?

“No, I didn’t. Don’t lie. Get back up.”

He does. Ned’s expression is unreadable for once. Michelle pats my leg.

Ned and Michelle actually move around this time, both stepping to one side or the other with half steps backward and forward. Peter keeps his hands on his knees, looking bored and glancing from MJ to her phone behind us. He won’t even look at me.

It pisses me off.

Michelle rolls one shoulder before lunging forward: a little hint. I shove Peter again, now resenting how stiff his muscles are beneath his stupid skin. And again he falls sideways, though faster this time.

Flash is whooping and making some stupid comment. Liz gives a surprised, “Oh, wow.” Sally and Cindy are talking, but I can’t tell whether it’s to me or someone else. Peter’s splash is echoing too much to hear a lot at the moment.

He stands up. His hands go to his hair. He looks at me and shrugs like Got me again, I guess.

The chlorine scent is hanging heavily over the room now like a pillow being slowly forced into my face. My headache pulses and creeps up behind my ear, beating my bone like a thick drum.

“Peter,” I say, teeth grinding, “this is going to get boring pretty quickly if you keep this up. Push back. Don’t you dare ‘let me win.’ I’m serious.”

My jaw is clenching as I try to pack my anger down into a little box between my ribs. A pressurized numbness climbs up my throat.

Shove it down.

Peter says nothing in reply but mounts Ned’s shoulders again. Ned is looking at Michelle, and though I can’t see her face, I know they’re having a silent conversation.

I nudge Michelle with my foot and she lunges forward again. I shove Peter’s left shoulder as hard as I can. Both shoulders hit the water at the same time. I know that no matter how hard I could ever hit him, it wouldn’t bother him a bit, yet the fact he’s clearly not even trying to play this one game that he was just playing with Flash and Abe is burning and biting at my tongue.

Peter stands lazily as if silently offering a forfeit.

Maybe he wants to get this game over with so he can talk to Liz.

“Get up, Peter,” I say, frustration spreading like fire through the ligaments of my arms. My irritation has reached my hairline.

Last week, I would never have doubted my friendship with Peter. Suddenly, I’m almost certain he wants nothing to do with me anymore. It scares me. A familiar dense pain pools in my lungs, a physical weight knocking my ribs into one another.

How did everything go so wrong so quickly?

Peter doesn’t move. I could kill him.

“Peter! Get up! Fight back, do something! This isn’t funny anymore. Why won’t you just do something?”

At last, he looks me straight in the eye.

“What?” he shoots back. “What do you want me to do?”

He’s angry now too, blatantly. It’s worse than last night. I can see it, a red patch of irritation growing from his chest up to his neck. Neither of us has ever gotten like this. We’re not the kind of people who do. Not with one another, and certainly not in front of other people.

It’s a violently refreshing change: honesty.

“Anything! Stop messing around,” I say. “Just play the fucking game.”

“Maybe I’m sick of it,” he says, his hands open. “This whole stupid idea! I’m not playing anymore.”

What is he talking about? It’s been barely a minute of this game.

“MJ,” I say, “let me down.”

“Alright.”

She jerks back like Flash did to Abe. The water stings through my nostrils and the lining of my lungs. Is this just MJ being MJ or is she angry at me, too? And what about Ned, could he be mad at me?

What have they all been calling and texting each other about?

I wipe water from my face and open my eyes, stinging.

“Come on, Peter, play a game,” I mock, moving closer to him. He just stands there. “Play a game.”

I’ve been playing some sort of game for at least 24 hours now, maybe over a week, maybe even longer. He can too.

Peter doesn’t move a millimeter. I shove him. Nothing. His expression remains blank. He doesn’t fall, he doesn’t budge.

“Peter!”

I shove him again.

Nothing.

Michelle and Ned are creeping out of the water. Their waves are the only sound besides my echoing shout in the whole room. God, this is bad. I know starting some kind of fight isn’t going to increase my chances of leaving D.C. with any friends, but I almost can’t stop myself. I have to do something.

I move closer, face burning with an itch of fury.

“What?” he says.

Michelle and Ned, blurry reflections I can see from the glass wall behind Peter, have grabbed their towels and are walking through the door.

Damn it. Where are they going?

Something is crushing inside my chest. I can feel my eyes brimming with tears.

Shove. Them. Down. I will not angry cry in front of my classmates right now. Absolutely not. Especially not with Flash and Liz here.

My hands are visibly shaking as I grapple for a reply.

“Just— just do something, Peter!”

The muscles in his jaw are working and pulsing. I wonder what words he’s chewing— of course, I’ll likely never know because it seems Peter is refusing to tell me anything.

“That’s just it!” he shouts back. “What do you want me to do?!”

That something in my chest is spasming, collapsing.

Peter’s chest is heaving and the red has reached his face. His words are fogging up my already pounding head.

That’s just it. What do you want me to do?

There are too many people here and as I notice their reflections standing over Peter’s shoulders with eyes glued to his face and my back, I realize I’ve just lost them too. In only the span of a couple minutes. The understanding hits me over the head and slices through my gut. I’ve ruined everything with everyone here, not just Peter and Ned and Michelle. They’ve never seen me like this and it’s too late to pretend to reverse it. There’s no way I’ll leave this trip with any friends.

It takes every particle of concentration to not let my emotions get the better of me and cry; especially when I’m still staring at Peter. The brown of his eyes seems darker than I’ve ever seen before and his brow is knotted up, hard.

The moment is so still and static.

Without warning, Peter smacks the water in front of me with one hand. It’s like a lukewarm tidal wave washing over my head, tangling my hair across my face.

My nose and lungs burn again. I gasped at the wrong second. In less than a moment though, it’s doused my nerves. I suddenly feel smaller than a child, humiliated.

“Are you kidding?”

I don’t know if he or anyone hears me. The question was quiet and overcome by countless echoing splashes. It’s for the best: nobody can see my chin shaking at this distance so maybe if they didn’t hear the crack in my voice, I can pull myself together.

Guilt and regret seep into my skin as Peter climbs out of the pool. I want to apologize, but apologize for what? And fear, fear is mixing with those other emotions. A mountain of blurred emotions coated in black dread and red fear.

I take a breath and turn around.

Fuck.

Cindy, Sally, Abe, and Flash are just… staring. Worse, Liz is too. Of course, Michelle forgets her phone this one time.

The door closes with a bang behind Peter.

His towel is slung over one shoulder and water droplets spatter across the hallway floor as he storms through it. If I could get over him, if I could stop thinking about him for one day, stop thinking about him for one minute, my heart rate wouldn’t be leaping off the charts as I watch him. Actually, my heart rate might just be a result of me realizing how serious this is. The fact that four faces are still staring, now waiting for me to explode, likely doesn’t help slow it down either.

“Guys,” Liz’s voice calls. “Come on. Don’t make this weird.”

Flash laughs. Hard.

“It’s super weird completely on its own! Man, what was that?”

Tension loosening its hold on the room, Flash is back to himself, looking astonished and amused beyond belief.

“Flash, seriously. Let it be,” Liz snaps at him. When she looks at me, her expression softens. “Don’t let Peter Parker get in your head. He can… be like that sometimes. He might just be going through something.”

I know what he’s like, I think. I’ve been friends with him for longer than one Homecoming date. Liz is trying, at least, and maybe later I’ll appreciate the thought.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding.

She mirrors the motion.

“I should go before my roommate gets back to study. And Y/N, if you ever want to talk, I’d like to hear from you again. From any of you guys. Anyway, good luck everyone! I’m sure tomorrow will be great.”

The room dissolves into Goodbye!’s. I use the distraction to get my towel and phone and slip out.

What have I done?

Next chapter

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #spider-man x reader #spiderman x reader #spider-man imagine #spiderman imagine

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peppersjam · 3 years ago

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My Top 10 Albums of 2021

Where are we now? I'm listening to the women of indie rock more than ever. I still haven't listened to much rap since I lost my footholds in the last few years. Kanye got MAGA-then-gospel; Drake got boring, Kendrick went missing). Those are among the most obvious rappers to be a die-hard fans of, but they at least primed me to seek out other rappers/hip-hop acts via collabs/guest verses. I've had fun listening to some rap, e.g., JPEGMAFIA, but nothing has stuck with me aside from Tyler. I moved to Austin at the end of this year and I'm hoping that reinvigorates my live music calendar (a hope that is hinging on COVID chilling out for a second, so, who knows).

My most-played-on-repeat songs of this year didn't actually show up on albums that made this list: Silk Chiffon by Muna feat. Phoebe Bridges, Like I Used To by Sharon Van Etten and Angel Olsen, and Renegade by Big Red Machine feat. Taylor Swift. The first is an unabashedly happy jam in a sea of emo (ok, emotional) indie rock. I tend to prefer emo-leaning music (I've been burned by Happy Jams before, see the time I listened to Black Beatles on repeat during the afternoon of the 2016 election before everything fell apart) but Silk Chiffon is just absolutely transcendent. Like I Used To is a perfect, chill-inducing duet. Renegade is probably the best Taylor Swift song since... All Too Well? That can't be. But maybe...?

My biggest disappointment of the year was Clairo's Sling. It's not bad, but after the intense subtlety of Immunity, I was hoping for something magical. Instead, Sling adds baroque-pop production that I have never been a fan of. Lorde's Solar Power was also a bit of a disappointment, especially when Lorde herself was hyping up the album so much beforehand (tweeting something to the effect of "been working on my new stuff and it's REALLY REALLY GOOD"). I like the album — it almost made the list! just not going to get the replays that Pure Heroine and Melodrama get.

Runners up:

The War on Drugs - "I Don't Live Here Anymore" (hard to leave this one off because it's so good, but at the end of the day it's a safe next step for the band. Still: always glad to have more The War on Drugs songs!)

Japanese Breakfast - "Jubilee" (a great album, but faced a lot of ear competition)

Big Red Machine - "How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last" (some excellent songs, but doesn't work as well as an album for me as their first record)

And then there are two exceptional re-releases: Sharon Van Etten's Epic Ten, and Taylor Swift's Red (Taylor's Version).

The pre-2021 albums that should've made the cut in their respective years:

Bartees Strange - "Live Forever" (2020) My most listened-to album of 2021!

Bartees Strange - "Say Goodbye To Pretty Boy" (2020) Ok, this may not have actually made the list last year, but it's fantastic.

Misc Vulfpeck records. Most notably "The Beautiful Game" (2016)

10. The Staves – Good Woman

I discovered this album because I was looking for live shows in Austin when I moved here. I was immediately entranced by The Staves' blend of indie rock and folk. This music sits neatly on the periphery of the female-driven indie rock that I've been obsessed with in the past few years. The show was canceled amid the Omicron COVID surge, but I've kept The Staves on repeat.

9. Bachelor – Doomin' Sun

Bachelor is Jay Som and Ellen of Palehound. Doomin' Sun is one of those albums where you listen to it once and it kind of lulls you into a sense of comfort. It seems easy, almost too easy, how seamlessly it strings together its lyrics, melodies, and riffs. The production does great work here, making these tight songs seems as if they're ladled directly from the same big bubbling chill indie rock cauldron that spawned Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted.

8. Rostam – Changephobia

Rostam's music, specifically his production and his vocal timbre, are peak nostalgia for me. They remind me of listening to music while wandering around Budapest in 2009: Discovery (of course), Dirty Projectors' Bitte Orca, Of Montreal's Hissing Fauna, and a bunch of Animal Collective.

It doesn't really sound like any of those older albums, but it reminds me of the feeling I had listening to that music at that time (immersing myself in indie rock for the first time, coming out of the year where I basically only listened to The Beatles). That's nostalgia, I guess. I don't know if any of this is Rostam's intention, but it's a unique draw to the record.

7. Olivia Rodrigo – SOUR

The first time I heard "drivers license," Amy played it for me in the car while we drove across San Francisco for pastries and a hike. I deconstructed it, immediately following it up with Kesha's "Praying." It's the exact same song structure! And Kesha has better voice control! Oh, this is the lead from High School Musical The Musical The Series. That makes sense... it really has a musical theater quality about it.

I was comparing the two because I love "Praying." And it turns out, I soon would love "drivers license." The whole album, as derivative as it is at times, is such a delightful spin. I can't wait to hear what Olivia does next.

6. Fleet Foxes – Shore

Fleet Foxes always create gorgeous music, and Shore is another entry in that lineage. It gives me a sort of synesthetic response: the music is round and whole. It's a complete system with no room for entry or exit; we're just lucky that they let us listen in.

5. Snail Mail – Valentine

Snail Mail's Lindsey Jordan has clearly lived a lot in her 22 years. The way her voice drops registers when she sings "Take me with you to Nirvana, baby / Take me all the way" feels so... exhausted? I mean that in the best way. Like, she can't even believe she to deal with all these people expecting her to make another album of enigmatic indie rock. Wasn't one, 2018's "Lush," enough for a lifetime? I would've been satisfied if she never made a follow-up, but "Valentine" is superb.

4. Porter Robinson – Nurture

This is the most out-of-left-field entry on my list. I don't listen to much electronic music outside of Gold Panda/Four Tet/Caribou/Jamie xx. That's not intentional, it's just that I don't have great discovery channels for it. A friend recommended this Anthony Fantano interview with Porter Robinson and I felt a kindred spirit in Porter. I can't quite put my finger on what it was. Maybe the heart-of-sleeve millennialness of it all? Either way, this is a tight album of euphoric electropop bangers. Who says no to that?

3. Indigo De Souza – Any Shape You Take

I usually need several plays to situate myself in an indie rock album, especially one by a new-to-me artist. But the very first note of "17," the "Dah" of "Darling if you need / I'll be right here / I come to rescue," is such a gripping, direct start to an album. The rest of the album toys with this directness on songs like "Die/Cry" (which is almost punk in its simplicity) and subverts it on songs like "Late Night Crawler," a song that I'm having a very hard time to that I'm transfixed by but having a very hard time explaining why.

2. Tyler the Creator – Call Me If You Get Lost

Do I have to explain this one? It's Tyler at his Tylerest. It's a swirl cake of all the best parts of Flower Boy and IGOR, with DJ Drama's hilarious adlibs as the sprinkles.

1. Lucy Dacus – Home Video

Lucy was my favorite of the boygenii when I saw them perform in late 2019, so I've been eager for her next album. Like sometimes-bandmate-and-last-year-number-one-album-artist Phoebe Bridgers, Lucy is an incredible writer. I didn't realize this until "Home Video," though. These are all slices-of-life that make me nostalgic in a completely different way than Rostam's album.

I think a lot about high school, not because I'm dwelling in that past and want to go back to that life, but mostly because it was so weird compared to my current life. Any of my time that wasn't consumed by schoolwork and school activities was filled with lifelong friends that I would never live near again. Nearly everything that was important to me at the time is now just a curio or an anecdote. Like many millennials (judging by Emo Nite attendance), I listen to music that reminds me of being in high school, your Falls Out Boy and whatnot. And I listen to music written by people currently in that mindset, like Olivia Rodrigo. But I don't listen to a lot of adult reflections on the coming-of-age experience, which is kinda surprising, because adults making coming-of-age stories is a bankable (and generally adored by me) trope in the film industry.

"Home Video" is a coming-of-age album. Lucy's experience is, of course, quite different from my own, but there's a lot to latch onto. Like, casually creating an evocative earworm in "VBS" that's entirely composed of actual anecdotes from her diary. Or "Brando," a delightful vignette about dating a pretentious jackass in high school. Does anyone know where I can find one of those? The finale, "Triple Dog Dare," more or less scripts the ending of a movie that will probably get nominated for an Oscar in a couple years.

So, put some headphones on and close your eyes and think about walking around your high school after hours. Lucy will meet you there.

#lucy dacus #Tyler The Creator #indigo de souza #porter robinson #snail mail #olivia rodrigo #rostam #bachelor #the staves #vulfpeck #sharon van etten #angel olsen #japanese breakfast #taylor swift #big red machine #the war on drugs #clairo #muna #lorde

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myelocin · 4 years ago

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the most beautiful thing | hanamaki t.

synopsis: beautiful, hanamaki takahiro thinks, sees, and feels. in this home, within four walls, with you as his forever and his two children as the sun that shines soft on the vanilla skies he’s loved all his life.

characters: hanamaki takahiro, you (HMMMMMM), your two kids

genre: fluff, domestic!au, parenting!au

wc: 1600+

a/n: hei yes i am ok. i did not just type this in 20 minutes flat because i dreamt of this. i am ok. i swear. plz help. i love him so much. by hanamaki takahiro x reader,, i rlly mean hanamaki takahiro x nicole thank u.

beautiful, is the word that first flashes in hanamaki takahiro’s mind.

bare foot against the dark stained wooden kitchen floors, your hair down and a little tangled against the white of his old shirt that fit you just comfortably. he thinks there’s hints of a vanilla sky outside.

cotton candy pink, lilac, and just the right amounts of blue. he met you under a sky like today’s, he notes to himself with a smile. it’s a little past eight am, where on a normal day you’d be up two hours earlier; you, with a train to catch, and him with customers waiting in front of the shop.

but the calendar says that today’s sunday. and sunday mornings, takahiro recalls you say, are days for family.

and back then he remembers that he laughed at your little explanation, thinking that it was just a ploy to get him to stay in bed for a little while longer. back when it was just the two of you in the house above his flower shop. where sunday mornings meant the extra time in the mornings were reserved for morning sex and for talks about love and life alike as you settled in the afterglow.

but sunday mornings now, he realizes, is this.

it’s waking up with your side of the bed empty and coming into the kitchen with the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air and the low sizzle of eggs frying in a pan. a little boy, with a head of strawberry brown hair peeking at him from his spot in the table, and his sweet, sweet ten month old baby girl sitting in her high chair with smeared baby food all over her mouth.

takahiro’s heart swells, because he feels love—before he realizes that more than that, he feels a sense of home too. and even if the feeling had always settled in his chest years ago, it’s in the smallest most unexpected moments where he feels the world’s kindness remind him of its existence.

he knows he’s been in love and been at home when you said yes six years ago; a ring offered by his hands, trembling like the knee he’s leaned down on. then when you kissed him with tears in your eyes after telling him your “i do,” in a voice that assures him your love for him is as real and as raw as the kind he feels for you.

that same year too, when he held the keys to the flower shop he risked his—and frankly a little bit of your—life savings over. your hand, warm and steady against his that trembled with the same intensity from before as he pushed the key in the lock and opened the new chapter of your life together.

where a home, from that time, became the second floor of that same flower shop. photographs lined on the stairwell and a windowsill with the herbs he’s grown in memory of someone he knows you love dearly. where the polaroids you took with him over the years were first hung around the room with little pieces of string and handwritten notes beneath them, before later kept in glass frames and left by the fireplace for those who came to your little world and see.

then five years ago when he he saw the two little lines on a test you planned to keep a surprise for him but ultimately crying with him anyway, because if there was one thing your husband was never good at: it was knocking at the bathroom door before entering. but then again—if there was one thing you were also never good at, it was locking the door when you’re supposed to.

he laughs at the memory everytime because just like that he knows that you two just fit like that. he feels love and home again, as he thinks of your teary smile and the happy crack in your voice as you cried and told him you were going to be a family.

(he held you that night with tears in his own eyes, a few crumbs of fear settling in his heart, but anticipation for the universe’s blessings serving as the adrenaline rush he knew would last him for this lifetime and the next.)

and the rest, takahiro thinks to himself, comes to him in flashes.

the blessing of being able to feel love within home when he first held his son in his hands. the tell tale strawberry brown hair looking like a carbon copy of his own. the freckles across his cheeks that awfully look a lot like the ones he stares at in front of the mirror everyday. but the quirk of his lips looking like yours, because takahiro memorizes the contours of your smile like he knows his loved ones by name.

much like the smile he sees on your youngest daughter’s. where even at ten months old, he can already tell that she’s taking after you a lot more than him. it’s the smile, he recalls his mother tell him, when she first came into the world.

though really, takahiro thinks, it was the hue of her eyes when she first opened them. bright and sparkling as it told him the same sort of stories that you told him all those years ago.

stories about how in life, heartbreak is unavoidable.

how in life, there is as much pain that will be felt as there comes the happiness that lays either before or after it.

but also, as cruel as life is—it can also be so, so kind. the kind of kindness that has you forgetting all the bad that you’ve trudged through, because when you ride that sort of high that life gives you—it truly feels like you’ll soar for eternities that are here and the ones that have still yet to come.

takahiro feels that; every day.

“papa,” he hears. “breakfast!” his son calls.

and so he pushes himself off of the doorframe as he first walks towards you, a kiss pressed to your cheek as the smell of day old roses and rosemary lingers—making you smile.

and as the word beautiful, flashes in his mind for the second time that morning—he knows it isn’t meant for the vanilla skies that swirl slowly outside the kitchen windows. it’s the way you look when you take a seat across him and smile, sipping your cold tea and sighing as if all the world’s problems are rolling right off your shoulders.

the ring, on your left hand’s fourth finger catches the light when you raise the spoon by your daughter’s mouth; golden like the picture frame hanging above fireplace in the living room, with four smiling faces instead of just the two from the polaroids before.

beautiful, life really can be even without the vanilla skies because he knows he has the best that life could ever offer right here. in this little room, the world in his hands, and the promise of heaven’s grace clear as day right in front of his eyes.

“papa,” he hears his eldest call again. takahiro takes a slow sip of his coffee before he turns to his son and smiles. “yep?”

“how do you spell your name?”

your husband doesn’t catch it when you smile, already knowing what he’s about to ask. letting your husband bask in the moment, you turn to face your ten month old daughter who stares back at you with eyes and face identical to your own. she was a messy eater, you observe with a chuckle. she took after her father in the little ways, you suppose.

and she always, always looked the most beautiful around flowers too. the polaroid of her sitting in the counter, next to a handful of roses was the photo she smiled at the widest. under the vanilla skies in that morning you think about how takahiro looks like a different sort of radiant around the flowers too.

“what’s it for?” you hear your husband ask, voice still a little scratchy from sleep.

“it’s for this!” your five year old beams.

takahiro stares at the paper he could only guess is his homework. his last name written next to your son’s giving name, erased pencil marks over his mistake still a little evident on the paper. he smiles as he reads through the little questionnaire, but pauses as he gets to the last part.

“who do you want to be like when you grow up?” it reads, a blank line next to it.

a familiar, welcome feeling thrums in takahiro’s chest again, so he thinks of the word beautiful once more. because life, he thinks, has never been more beautiful than how it looks in this morning.

“papa your naaaaaame.”

he swears that ever since he met you, he falls in love with life more and more every day.

(he cries to you later that night as he closes the flower shop downstairs for the day. red eyes, and a happy smile in place. you kiss his cheeks and tell him he deserves happiness every day.)

(your son’s homework and doodle of your family next to another one of flowers and rosemarys with a little cross above it is pinned on the fridge later that night.)

you fall asleep with his arms around yours, your kids asleep in the room next to yours.

this, you smile. this is the beautiful part of life.

a/n: rosemary is the herb my mom had on her windowsill. she died before she could plant her herb garden. i always think that makki likes to keep a herb garden so he could feel close to my mom in a way : - )

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host-club-hq · 4 years ago

Text

Call of the Scar pt. 1

➼ pairing: harry potter x reader

➼ genre: sfw, fluffy, fantasy

➼ word-count: 3.4k

➼ summary: Harry Potter and Y/N Weasley embark on their great journey together in their fourth year at Hogwarts. What does this unsuspecting year hold for them this time?

➼ part 1 of many :)

➼ want to request? do it here. let me know what i can write for you :)

➼ talk to the characters!

Frank Bryce sets a kettle on the stove and- with a shaky hand- adjusts the flame. He leans forward, squinting to get the fire right, and the window beyond his is revealed. Something flickers. Softly. Then again. Frank turns.

Atop the hill, light dances in one of the windows of the manor.

CLANG!

Frank emerges from the cottage, walking stick in hand. He limps into the yard and approaches a door almost completely covered in ivy. He fits a rusty key into the lock

The knob squeals dryly. The walking stick pierces the shadows, then Frank himself enters. His nostrils flare against the sour air. He cocks an ear. Frank's shadow spreads darkly on the landing. Above a small table is an old calendar, freckled with Mildew. August 1943

Frank reaches the top and stops. His breath drifts like smoke.

At the end of the hallway, a door stands ajar, casting sliver of light across the dusty floor. Frank edges closer and sees a narrow slice of the room beyond. A feeble fire flickers in the grate. From within: voice.

"But where here, my Lord? It seems so... inhospitable.

"How fastidious you've become, Wormtail. As I recall, only recently you called the nearest gutterpipe home. Could it be that the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you?"

"No, my Lord! I only meant-"

"I have my reasons for coming here. Thirteen years of reasons."

"Perhaps if we ere to do it without the boy..."

"No! The boy is everything!"

Just then, the tip of Frank's walking stick vibrates against the floorboard. He eyes it curiously, then- in mute horror- watches a giant snake emerge from the shadows behind him. As it skims past his shoes and into the room, an eerie hiss greets its arrival.

"Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail. According to her, there is an old Muggle standing just outside this room."

The door flings wide, revealing a short balding man- Wormtail.

"Where are your manners, Wormtail? Step aside so I can give our guest a proper greeting..."

Slowly, Wormtail withdraws. Frank's eyes dilate. A flash of green light sears the walls. The walking stick clatters to the floor, handle charred black, weeping smoke. A brittle whistling rises from the shadows of the empty Gardener's Cottage, a tea kettle squealing madly, rising like a scream on the night sky.

Harry Potter sits bolt upright, a gasp in his throat. He winces and presses his palm to the scar on his forehead. Across the room, Ron lies sleeping.

"Having a bit of a lie-in, are we?" A smug voice comes.

Harry spins, seeing you, his closest girl friend, grinning from beside his bed.

"Y/N. When'd you get back?" Harry breathes heavily. You had gone for a morning walk- as you usually do when sleep eludes you.

"Just now. You?" you’re referring as to when he arrived at your family’s burrow.

"Last night." Harry begins to sit up.

"Must have missed you. Though, how could I? With your clumsy arse." you ruffle his hair and Harry groans.

"Says you." Harry bites back playfully. You grin.

Hermione comes stalking in loudly and Ron wakes. "Bloody hell!" Ron bolts up and tugs the blanket over his chest.

"Oh, honestly. Come on. Get yourself dressed or we'll miss the whole thing." Hermione claps at Ron.

You watch as she leaves, then look at Harry. The two of you stare at each other before you whack him upside the head.

"Blimey, Y/N! What was that for?"

"I dunno, maybe I just wanted to hit your dumb ass." you walk out.

Harry rubs the back of his scalp before turning to Ron, who was still on the verge of sleep.

"What are you looking at me for?" Ron grumbles.

"She's your sister. I wonder where she gets it from." Harry throws his feet over the bed.

"Not bloody likely... more like all that time she spends with Hermione. God awful, the pair of them."

"Don't be dramatic, Ron." Harry shoves him slightly as he gets dressed.

A string of sleepy silhouettes- Fred, George, Harry, Ron, you, and Hermione- trail a huffing Arthur Weasley. Fred has a battered pair of omnioculars slung over his neck.

"Where is it exactly, where we're going?" Harry turns to you.

"Dunno. Say, Dad. Where're we going?" you holler forward.

"Haven't the foggiest. Keep up!" Arthur replies. Harry looks at you expectantly.

"Why are you looking at me like I know where we're going?" you raise an eyebrow.

"Why don't you know where we're going?" Harry teases back.

"Because I've never been to the bloody thing. Merlin, Harry, sometimes you're so daft." you sigh, teasingly, again. Harry eyes her curiously. Daft? Yeah, right.

A ruddy faced wizard appears atop the crest ahead.

"Arthur! It's about time, son!" The man shouts in greeting.

"Sorry, Amos. 'Fraid we got a bit of a sleepy start. This is Amos Diggory, everyone. Works with me at the ministry. And this strapping young lad must be Cedric, am I right?" Arthur guesses.

An extremely handsome 17-year old boy shakes hands with Mr. Weasley, whom he towers over.

"Sir." Cedric confirms.

"Bloody hell." you sigh. Harry looks to you.

"What? You think he's attractive?" Harry raises an eyebrow.

"How could I not? Look at him." you grin widely. Harry pouts.

"Don't be a baby, you're still adorable." you pinch his cheek and he yelps.

"Bugger off." He swats your hand away.

"Merlin's beard! You're Harry Potter, aren't you? Ced's talked about you, of course. About playing Quidditch against you last year. I told him- Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will: You beat Harry Potter!" Amos grins. Lorelei frowns and steps beside Harry.

"Harry fell of his broom, Dad. I told you, it was an accident-"

"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you? Best man won. I'm sure Harry'd say the same." Amos grins. Harry frowns and you take his hand in yours. As much as you tease each other, you both know how much you care for each other.

"We'll see about that this year, won't we?" you challenge with a subtle smirk. Amos's eyebrows furrow before Arthur interjects before his daughter escalates.

"Well, shall we? We don't want to be late." Arthur clears his throat, as he should.

"Hm? Oh, right. It's over there." Amos points.

Harry cranes his neck. Lying in the short grass is an old boot. Each person places a finger to the book, arms extended like spokes to a wheel. Harry leans to you and whispers.

"Can you tell me why we're all standing here pressing our fingers to this manky old boot?" Harry grimaces.

"It isn't just any manky old boot, mate." Fred interjects.

"It's a Portkey." you finish.

"A Portkey? What's a-"

SWOOSH! The hill lurches then tilts. The sky begins to spin. A howling wind rises and the sky spins faster and faster and faster still... and becoming a blur... until...

... Harry slams hard onto his feet and- like the others beside him- topples onto his back. Above him, the sky reels dizzily, like a carousel, spinning slowly to a halt as Arthur, Amos, and Cedric cycle into view, windswept but upright.

"That'll clear your sinuses, eh!" Arthur exclaims.

"And I thought I hated Floo Powder." Harry groans. A hand comes into his view and he trails his eyes up the arm that connects to you.

"Come on, then. Up you go." He takes your hand and helps himself to his feet.

"Floo Powder is still my least favorite. Getting covered in soot just to land in a ruddy fireplace." you grimace as you recall your first Floo Powder experience.

Harry looks past you to the field beyond. Thousands of tents stretch to the edge of a steep cliff, to the deep bowl of a stadium.

"This reminds me of just how many witches and wizards there are sometimes." you appear next to Harry, your knuckles tightening around the straps of your backpack as if you were anxious. Or, you could be excited- Harry can't tell.

"That's an interesting way to look at it." Harry acknowledges you with the tilt of his head, nudging you.

"Keep up, we don't want to be left behind." He starts off first, trusting you’ll follow. And you do.

Harry glances about in fascination as he and the others trudge through the sea of tents. Exotic accents dance upon the air, every nationality in evidence.

"Well, here we are!" Arthur pulls aside the flap of a small tent. A very small tent. Harry watches curiously as the others pass through.

"How in Merlin's name are we all meant to fit in that?" Harry gestures lazily to the tent in disappointment. You peer in from his point of view and shrug.

"Dad's got all sorts of tricks up his sleeve- just you watch." you inhale deeply and disappear inside the tent. Harry draws in the same sort of breath and ducks inside himself.

Harry looks around and smiles- he's standing in what's equivalent to a 3-bedroom flat. "I love magic." He grins as she sloppily drops his bag on the floor.

"I'll take that. You're welcome." you sling Harry's and your bag own over your shoulders. Harry rolls his eyes and follows you at your heal.

"I could've done that myself." Harry says matter-of-factly.

"You wouldn't owe me that way, would you?" you raise an eyebrow at Harry. You know Harry can't raise a single eyebrow and you take every chance that you can get to tease him with your ability.

"Ah, I knew there was a catch." Harry grins goofily as you place his rucksack on one of the beds on the boys' side of the tent. You turn on your heal to place your own where you and Hermione will be sleeping.

"We're separated?" Harry blurts unknowingly. The color red creeps onto the apples of his cheeks as you turn at his query.

"Yes... why do you ask?" you tilt your head as you turn your body to face him. Harry shrugs nonchalantly.

"Harry..." you gently takes his hand in yours, causing Harry to look down at you with sparkling eyes.

"I'm sure you'll be alright for a night or two. What do you do at home when I'm not there, hm?" your thumbs stroke the back of his hand as you look up to meet his eyes.

Harry learned that you were quite skilled at helping him through his nightmares and you were more than happy to lend your skill. Often when you were younger, you helped Ron through rough nights of nightmares after he'd eaten too much for dinner, or too much for dessert. You quickly learned that it was best to not wake him, for he could reel all too quickly back into reality and startle himself. You would bring the blankets back up over his chest to restrain the thrashing, stroke his cheek to maintain the mumbling, and whisper positive affirmations into his ear to send the nightmares into the abyss- replacing it with a nice, pleasant dream. As soon as you saw the smile on Ron's face, you’d known you’d done your job, and would quietly slip out of the room back to the welcoming warmth of your own bed. The nightmares often only came once a night. You wouldn't have to go back after that.

All of the same techniques seem to work in calming Harry from his own nightmares. Although, you find it best to embrace him in his sleep to restrain thrashing, as the blankets can do next to nothing to restrain him.

"Dunno." Harry bites the inside of his cheek and breaks eye contact. Your hand moves from his hand to his shoulder and you smile brightly.

"If you really do need me, come and get me, yeah?" you pat his shoulder thrice and turn on your heal to the girls' side of the tent. Harry's eyes follow you warily as you walk and he sighs shortly.

Ron claps Harry on his back, startling him as he spins around.

"Don't worry too much, mate. She's a light sleeper. If she hears you, she'll wake and be at your side before you know it." Ron starts to unpack his rucksack and Harry nods.

"Yeah... yeah, no, I'll be fine." Harry forces a smile, which Ron returns.

Harry and the others climb to their seats. Flags of all nations ring the stadium and vendors apparate here and there among the crowd, selling their wares.

"Get your Quidditch World Cup programs! Only five Sickles!"

Fancy gold handwriting races repeatedly across a giant blackboard: Gladrags Wizardwear- London, Paris, Hogsmead...

"There's the Peruvian Minister for Tourism. And that man there's the African Head of Magical Games and Sports. And- oh lord- there's Ali Bashir. He's been truing to import flying carpets for years. I keep telling him they'll never replace brooms, but he sees a niche market for a family vehicle..."

"Blimey, Dad. How far up are we?" Ron marvels, ignoring his father's rambling about their surroundings.

"Well, if it rains, you'll be the first to know."

The voice is Lucius Malfoy descending the stairs with Draco. Arthur, tight as a drum, only glares.

"Father and I are in the Minister's box, by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself." Draco boasts with a smug smirk.

"Oh, bugger off-" you begin.

"Don't boast, Draco." Lucius jabs his walking cane into Draco's chest. Draco grunts and places his hand over where he was jabbed, looking at his father incredulously.

You look to Harry with disbelief.

"Well, that's a first-"

"There's no need with these people." Lucius finishes.

"Ah." you cut yourself off with a disappointed sigh. Harry chuckles and nudges you. You smile.

Malfoy's eyes trail nastily over you and Hermione, landing on Harry.

"Mr. Potter."

As he passes, Harry eyes the walking stick in Lucius Malfoy's grip. A silver serpent encircles his ring finger, inlaid with emerald chips for eyes.

Harry and the others have settled into the upmost row, where the wind whips coldly. As a fleet of broomsticks jet into view, a roar rises in the crowd.

"It's the Irish! There's Troy!" Fred exclaims excitedly.

"And Mullet!"

"And here comes Moran!"

Before Fred can finish, a fleet of dark-clad riders soar over the opposite rim of the stadium. The crowd roars again.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about." Although your cheeks are smeared in green, (curtesy of your older brothers and Ron) your interest in professional Quidditch have never exceeded your brothers' of course. You do find a small interest in the magic of brooms, but the sport itself has never perked your interest.

"Here come the Bulgarians!" George points as he leans over the railing.

"Hm. Who's that?" you squint your eyes at one particularly young player.

"That, sis, is the best Seeker in the world." George smirks with a smug nudge to your side. You swat him.

"He flies rather well, doesn't he?" Hermione acknowledges. The boys exchange amused glances.

"You could say that." Fred stifles his laughter as George nudges him.

Fred lifts his Omnioculars to his eyes and spins a dial. He dials Krum in closer, then runs the image forwards and backwards.

"What's his name?" you ask as you place your hands on the railing.

On cue, thousands of fans on the opposite side of the stadium flip large cards bearing the face of the surly looking boy with thick eyebrows. Each one is emblazoned with his name: KRUM.

"Krum?" Hermione guesses.

"Krum." Harry, Ron, Fred, and George assure in unison.

As the boys look up in admiration, Krum gets past the vast mosaic of his likeness with a nary glance, flying with such breathtaking skill that Harry's jaw fairly falls open. You lean over and press your index finger to his chin, effectively shutting his mouth.

"You'll catch flies." you smirk as Harry swats your hand from his face.

"Lay off." he grumbles.

In the ministry box, Cornelius Fudge rises as Lucius Malfoy and Draco take their seats nearby.

"Good evening! As Minister for Magic, it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup! Let the match begin!"

A ball of light busts from Fudge's wand. Harry watches Viktor Krum rocket upward, the crowd roaring as he rises into the glittering night sky, the stadium growing smaller, a glimmering disc of light.

Harry and the others lie about, unable to sleep as they excitedly re-live the match.

"Such a big fuss over a sport. All he did was catch a ball." you grumble as you flip to another page of you book from where you lie on your bed, shoes tossed lazily about on the floor next to you as you rhythmically tap your sock-clad feet.

"An incredibly fast ball that's near impossible to spot!" Harry drapes an Irish flag over your lounging figure and you growl, tearing the flag off in the split second after it made contact with your body.

"You're infuriating." you wad up the flag best you can and chuck it towards Harry violently, who catches it with ease.

"Thank you." Harry smiles cheekily.

"Brilliant Krum, wasn't he? Did you see him put Lynch into the ground with the Wronski Feint? It was positively brutal." Ron rambles on.

"I think you're in love, Ron." you giggle from where you sits, eyes never leaving the spot on your page.

"Quiet, you." Ron bites back.

Just then, a chant of voices rise like a lion's roar beyond the tent. Fred grins.

"Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on." Fred ambles confidently towards the flap of the tent before Arthur bursts in urgently and looks around frantically.

"It's not the Irish."

The others turn to see Arthur standing by the flap peering out. Something in his voice causes their smiles to wither.

"Get yourselves dressed." Arthur orderes hurriedly. Once he notices the hesitation in everyone else, he barks another other. "Now!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and you scramble out of the tent and stare with disbelief at the hellish tableaux before you. All around you, people run in terror, trampling fires and kicking up sparks. Then you see why:

A teeming clot of black-robed wizards, faces concealed behind hideous masks, are marching across the campsite, laughing drunkenly. Some clutch torches while others point their wands skyward, where four people tumble eerily high above.

"Who are those people? In the air?" your hand shakes as you gesture to the bodies above.

"Muggles." Arthur answers solemnly. You gulps hard and divert your attention.

"And the ones on the ground?"

"Death Eaters." Hermione answers in the same fashion.

Harry looks puzzled by this, but as Arthur draws his wand, Harry does the same without question.

"No." you grab his wrist and push his arm back to his side.

"Get back to the Portkey, all of you. And stick together. Fred, George, you're responsible for Y/N. Y/N, you listen to your brothers." Arthur insists firmly as his eyes scan over the group. You shift uncomfortably and open your mouth to reply when a scream cuts you off from a passing civilian. The scream set everyone on edge and Arthur takes his tone up a notch.

"Y/N! Did you hear me?!" he scolds intensely. You blink, startled by your father's fierce expression, then nod slowly and surely. Arthur dashes off.

Fred and George glance at each other and nod. They gently shove you towards Harry and you grunt, spinning around to face them. "Dad said to-"

"We know what Dad said. You're better off looking after Harry and him after you." Fred smiles slightly.

"Yeah, and with your clumsy ass and your looking-for-trouble attitude, you balance each other out." George finishes curtly.

"Stay safe!" They disappear into the frantic crowd.

Harry is the first to move, reaching back and swiping your hand from your side and holds it close to him. "Come on." he beckons, pulling you along through the chaos.

They streak past blazing tents. You feel your hand become less and less tightly gripped in Harry's fingers before you find it slipping away. Lost in the mob, you falls back. Fred and George flash briefly in the crowd, then vanish. Hermione turns, frantic eyes finding Harry.

"Y-Y/N was with you- where is she?" Hermione's frantic eyes search the panicking crowd. She sees no glimpse of you.

"Where is my sister?" Ron steps towards Harry and gazes at him accusingly. Harry looks back and realizes that his hand is in fact empty. He takes immediate action.

Harry dashes on, buffeted back and forth by the raging crowd. He stumbles, falls, struggles to rise, and is trampled again. Bootheels punish the earth all around him. One strikes his temple hard and he collapses. He sees you, frantic, before his vision escapes him.

#Harry Potter #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter x reader #harry x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter series #harry potter movies #hogwarts #hermione #Ron Weasley #hermione granger #fred weasley #george weasley #weasley #harry potter smut #harry potter angst #Magic #wizard #witches

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