#this was a nice break!! she's very cute : ) thank you charlie for the name

[qrowscant]

cousin t-bone!

[alastor-simp]

Alastor with a female reader who is selectively mute Part 1

I always wanted to know how Alastor would react to a demon character like this or who is similar to Komi-san from Komi Can't communicate, so this is going to be my take on it.

**First Meeting**

Your arrival in hell wasn't a pleasant one. Literally the second you fell, you were approached by demons left and right, either trying to rob you or offering to sleep with you. Yelling at them would have been easy, but you were a very anxious person to the point you were mute with everyone you encountered. Surprisingly, you were able to run away from the unwanted problems you faced in hell, and was able to come across a flyer that was taped to one of the alley walls. "Come stay at the Happy Hotel" it read, and you figured that it might be a good place to stay for a while and try to make a sense of what you could do now that you were in hell. Having followed the map that was on the other side of the flyer, you were able to come across the hotel, but the neon sign was different then what the paper said, but you figured they probably were remodeling it.

The hotel was huge, it was plastered with neon signs, but also had a radio tower on one side, a large fish like contraption, and a pirate ship. "Amazing" you thought to yourself as you made your way closer to the door, and lightly knocked. A cheery voice was heard on the other side and soon the door opened to reveal a pretty, blonde girl. She had devilish features, but a very adorable baby face, and her smile was quite cute as well. "Oh! Hello! My name is Charlie Morningstar. How may I help you?", she said to you with big bright eyes, as she was patiently waiting for your response. Clenching your jaw, feelings of anxiety began to well up in your stomach, but you bared with it and simply held up the hotel poster in front of Charlie. Charlie was a little curious about your strange response, but she put the pieces together that you were wanting to stay at the hotel. "SQUEAL!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMING!", she said as she threw her arms around you in a bear hug, then letting you go as she pulled you into the hotel.

The inside of the hotel was nice, but needed some remodeling, but you liked it overall. Looking around, you noticed the other demons that were in the hotel. A mini demon was zipping around in a cute dress, cleaning the ceiling with a duster, a cat like demon was chugging a bottle of booze at the bar, and a very tall spider was standing next to the record player, picking out a song. Stopping what they were doing, they all turned to look at you, curiously. Nervous, you raised your hand at them, signifying a hello. The cat demon just nodded his head and continue chugging, while the fast demon zipped in front of you, waving back with a smile, before zooming away to finish cleaning. The tall spider gave you a wink, as they walked to the bar and took a seat. "Vaggie! We have another patron!" Charlie said, as she yelled out next to you, while also leading you to one of the lobby couches to have a seat. As Charlie walked away, your eyes began to scan around the hotel, taking in every detail, and also glancing at the portraits hanging on the wall with Charlie and what looked to be her parents.

"Why Hello there! Who might you be?", a static voice said, as you looked up to see a red suit man with a very sharp smile standing in front of you, leaning down to place his face closer to yours. He was dressed to the nines in a red striped coat, along with a monocle and bow-tie. He also appeared to be holding a microphone staff? Was he a singer by chance? Realizing you were getting distracted, you just nodded your head at the man, and pointed to the poster, similar to what you did with Charlie. The man raised an eyebrow, as he continued to lean closer, most likely waiting for your answer, as his smile got wider, almost breaking his face.

**Alastor POV**

Alastor's eyes continued to stare at the quiet demon, who was holding the poster and kept tapping against it frantically. Amused, Alastor leaned closer, while moving his staff to tap against her chin: "Something wrong my dear? Cat got your tongue?" Alastor watched as the demon remained silent, but he could tell by their eyes that they were nervous, oh how entertaining. "Oh Alastor! So nice of you to show up! This is our new patron who just arrived at the hotel", Alastor heard, as he turned to see Charlie smiling at him, while dragging Vaggie by the hand. Leaning back from his position, Alastor continued to gaze at you while turning back to Charlie. "Ah! So this wayward sinner is here to stay at the hotel! Excellent!" Alastor beamed, as he look down at you, while you shifted in your seat.

**Your POV**

You started to feel a little uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on you, making you clench your hands on your lap. You noticed the other demon next to Charlie. She had long grey hair, and only one of her eyes was showing. She did give you a hard gaze when she saw you, but it softened after few minutes. As she came closer to you, she waved her hand as a hello, while also asking what your name was. You stayed silent, as the butterflies in your stomach made you feel like you wanted to vomit, as everyone was watching you, waiting for your answer. "Whats the matter with you, toots? You deaf or something?", The spider demon had taken a seat next to you, while wrapping an arm around your neck with one of his arms, while poking your cheek with his other hand. Freezing up, you felt your eyes start to water, and you started to slightly shake. Charlie noticed your reactions and bent down on her knees to gaze at you, asking if you were alright. Taking a slow deep breath, you nodded then made a notion with your hands asking for something to write on. Charlie quickly got up and ran to the desk to grab a large notepad and pen, before coming back to you. Once you had the notepad, you began to write down what you wanted to say, before turning the notepad around for everyone to see, while giving them a shy smile:

"Hello my name is Y/N. I just arrived in Hell a few minutes ago and I saw your poster and wanted to stay here. I'm sorry for not responding to you guys normally, but I am selectively mute, I'm sorry again. Its very nice to meet all of you!"

Everyone around you slowly read the notepad and all turned back to look at you. Charlie and Vaggie looked very apologetic, the spider just shrugged his shoulders, the mini one just continued to smile at you, but more softly this time, and the cat demon just continued to drink from the bar. The man in red, or Alastor as they called him, continued to smile at you, seeming unfazed by what you wrote, but you noticed his eyes soften a bit, but he made sure to hide it from the others. "Oh! I'm sorry if we made you uncomfortable." Charlie began to bow her head, but you waved your hands, letting her know it was alright. Charlie raised her head, and soon her frown turned back into a bright smile: "Oh yes, let me introduce everyone! This is Vaggie, my girlfriend. The spider next to you is Angel Dust. Niffty is the small cute one. Husk is the one at the bar, and this is Alastor." You listened to all of the names Charlie said, and looked at everyone, while smiling and nodding your head. Angel Dust smirked while looking at you, turning you head to look at him: "You're quite a cutie aren't ya? I bet your voice sounds very sexy." Angel continued to wrap his arms around you, continuing to flirt with you, until Alastor's staff smacked him on the head. "Now my good fellow! It's not proper to talk that way to a lady! Please kindly remove yourself from them!" Alastor said, as he gazed at Angel, smiling still, but it looked more menacing this time. Angel let you go, while rubbing his head: "Satan F*** Al! You didn't have to hit me with that thing!" Vaggie then yelled at them both to be quiet, as she walked over to front desk and grabbed what looked like to be a room key. She walked back and handed it to you, telling you that your room is on the fourth floor and you can go up there and get settled. Nodding your head as a thank you, you began to walk over to one of the elevators and made your way to your room.

Arriving in your room, you scanned around the interior. The room had some dust and cobwebs, but a little cleaning would help with that. The room was decorated in a maroon red, with a large bed with black sheets, two large windows with curtains, a bathroom and a very wide closet. It almost felt like you got the home suite, which made you feel guilty as you really didn't need a extravagant room like this. Still in thought, you were alerted by a rhythmic knock on your door. Walking over, you looked in the peephole to see Al standing there with his big smile. Opening the door, you nodded your head at Alastor, as he smiled down at you. "Hello again my dear! I was wondering if you had time to chat!"

***Alastor POV***

The quiet sinner nodded her head at Al, while opening the door, allowing me to come in. How adorable! He thought, while making his over to the center of the room and turning back to look at them. "Now my dear! I am here wanting to apologize for how I acted in the lobby! I wasn't behaving like a proper gentleman and I understand if I made you uncomfortable, so let me offer you my sincerest apologies! Let's start over from the beginning, shall we?" Alastor bowed his head a bit, as a sign of him apologizing, and extending his hand out in a handshake. You appeared taken aback in Alastor's eyes, ,but you gave him a soft smile and shook his hand. Once you finished shaking hands, you grabbed the notepad and pen again and began to write to Al, as he gazed at you, wondering what you were writing before you turned the notepad around. Alastor leaned closer, and began to read the message:

"It is alright, Alastor. There is no need for you to apologize. And besides, I'm the one that should apologize for not answering your question when you asked me."

Alastor finished reading, and turned his eyes towards you. His sharp smile slowly turned into a soft grin and his glowing eyes had softened. "Don't worry about that my dear! Now I take it since you will have just arrived in Hell, you are lacking some necessities correct?" Alastor had moved away from you, as he continued to talk while walking around your room. Turning back to you, you gave him a small nod. "Then we will head to the city! Me and Charlie can accompany you! What do you think?" he said, as he turned back to you, with his large grin coming back. Nodding your head at Alastor was his indication that you accepted. Smiling wider, Alastor turned back to you, as he made his way to your door. "It feels that I have extended my stay, so I will leave you be darling! Do make yourself comfortable!" he said, as turned his head back to you. Pulling out the pad again, you wrote down another message and showed it to Al.

"Thank you."

"Your welcome my dear! Have a pleasant evening! Also don't forget to head to the kitchen later! My mother's famous jambalaya is on the menu for tonight! So good, it nearly killed her! HAHA!" , Laughing out his response, Al watched as he saw you give him a smile, a real smile this time. "My! What a gorgeous smile!" He thought, as he bid you adieu and made his way back to the lobby. As he made his way back, Alastor stopped and thought about you. Puzzling was a word he used to describe you. He had never encountered a sinner down here who chose to not speak while having the ability to do so. He mostly assumed you were terrified of him, due to his status as "The Radio Demon. Most feared overlord in Hell.", but that wasn't the case. Something about you made him feel odd, hell he even apologized to you, which he would never do given his massive pride/ego, so he wondered why. Seeing you write on the notepad and apologizing for not responding normally, made his heart ache. Why should you apologize for something like that? Realizing he had stopped in the middle of the hallway, he carried on back to the others, still thinking about you and also how would your voice sound when you spoke out loud. Alastor smiled wider, as he thought you were going to be a very special and entertaining sinner here at the hotel.

Part 2 of the story is Here

[wolfoftheblackflames]

Hello misfits! Your favorite sass master here with another fic! Well I've got several I'm working on but its been awhile since I've posted one to here eh? Enjoy!

Living through Hell: Hazbin Apocalypse AU Pt.1

“Reginald stop the car!” A female voice cried as the driver who was named Reginald looked back at his mistress briefly.

“Of course, Miss Morningstar!” He replied as he soon brought the large black truck to a skidding halt in front of a lone store. “I suggest hurrying, m'lady. we don't want to linger for too long with the hoarde of zombies nearby!” He watched as the tall blonde woman exited the 2015 Knight XV.

Out of the corner of her eye, the woman spotted a grey camo Hummer with wings painted on the hood and the letters U.S.H painted on the sides speeding off with two people laughing, flipping the building off. “Assholes..” She muttered but went inside since her radio picked up a distress call.

The building used to be what looked to be a sub fast food place named Hellway. The blonde looked around and spotted the back room with a trail of blood leading to it. “Shit, they might be hurt pretty bad…”

The groans of zombies outside made the woman move quickly and quietly as her black combat boots trekked along the broken debris. “Mierda…” She blinked hearing a voice. “Bet those fucks didn't notice I snagged their fucking radio, ammo, and supplies..”

A soft groan escaped the owner as they soon turned their head towards the door opening. “Oh shit… You look worse than I thought.” The owner saw the blonde in the doorway and moved back wincing. “Hey, I'm the one who got the distress call, I'm here to help.”

“Gracias…”

The blonde looked over the wounded figure, a woman who looked to be in her early twenties with beautiful short brown hair, and a soft light brown eye since the other one had been gouged out. “This should do, for now, but I'm going to get you outta here ok?”

“Don't forget the backpack over there too, it's got stuff for you..” The brunette wheezed, pointing to the grey army backpack to the side.

“Thanks, I'm Charlie by the way.” The blonde replied, wrapping the bleeding socket with bandages and a gauze. This earned a slight yet very cute smile making Charlie blush a bit.

“Vaggie… I know sounds dumb right?” The brunette winced, but the sound of glass breaking made her move into Charlie's arms showing there was more wounds on the back. “We gotta move now!” She whispered growling.

Charlie shook her head to clear the gay thoughts as she soon grabbed the heavy army back with one arm, and the smaller woman with the other showing how strong she was underneath her tattered white button up. She soon bolted with both. “Reginald, start the truck now!” She shouted, making the elderly man in the driver seat nod. “Right away Miss Morningstar!”

Two dogs both being beautiful black border collies jumped and opened the side door, letting their owner jump in without much hassle. “Nicely done Razzle and Dazzle!” Charlie cooed at her boys.

Reginald soon punched the gas pedal as a hoarde of zombies rushed them, he managed to shake three that managed to latch on off. “Not bad old man.” Vaggie smirked a bit but looked really weak. She was perched in Charlie's lap in the backseat since the latter tossed the bag to the side.

Charlie fished out the first aid kit that was hidden in the back compartment underneath the luxurious display of a flat screen TV, a gaming console, a DVD player, and an inner radio set up. She started using a cloth to apply pressure to the wound on the back, making Vaggie hiss. “Just stay with me, okay?”

“Those look like hooked machete cuts, m'lady. The blade is jagged, so those wounds won't be easy to heal without major scarring.” Reginald replied, making Charlie growl.

“Assholes, why would anyone do this?”

“You're sweet, but listen, word of advice? Don't go helping everyone you meet, you'll be bled dry in this hellhole..” Vaggie winced but due to blood loss she passed out.

Charlie blinked but gave a soft look. “I know but if I can help someone I will..” She muttered as the drive was a long one.

----

Her mind drifted to the people she tried to help. Some brushed her off and snapped for getting in the way; others straight up demanded the goods she was carrying. It saddened her that she had been forced to use violence on multiple occasions, giving her the reputation and the nickname The Demon Princess for her prowess.

Those eyes drifted out the window as her eyes watched the rocky landscape go by as Reginald made sure to keep the drive quiet and comfortable.

On the drive back, Charlie's mind wandered to before the Apocalypse four years ago, she and her parents were happy and out on a hunting trip. While she hated the fact they killed cute animals, it meant spending time with her mother and father who were always all over one another. Her father Lucifer was the head of Pentagram City, a place where each district was named after the seven deadly sins, as a way to get back as his old friends since they casted him out when he decided to help his wife Lilith, a well known crime boss who refused to bow down to anyone.

Charlie smiled remembering her aunts and uncles, they were so nice to her if some were a bit strange. Though when Lilith disappeared one night, the whole world went to shit. Some blame Lilith and Lucifer for unleashing an apocalyptic nuke on the world, others revered them as gods of worship. Both sides left a bad taste in the blonde's mouth. One hand others scorned her and her family, trying to dupe, outwit, or possibly kill them, while the other half were creepy cult fanatics who acted like the seven sins forming new communities within the old ones.

Reginald was one of the old servants of the Morningstar manor, a kind elderly gentleman who felt like a lovable grandpa. He taught Charlie to shoot, scavage, and survive the new world when her own father went into hiding. He was often dressed in a casual black suit with a white shirt, and black bowtie. His wife Ester had died of old age prior, but was Charlie's nanny. The old man often spoiled Charlie too, saying that she was like his own grandchild, and was very protective much like the dogs Razzle and Dazzle.

The butler looked sadden seeing his mistress deep in thought, and yet she was being so caring despite the trauma she had. “M'lady it seems we've possibly gained a new ally. At least it won't be just us four anymore.” He piped up, making Charlie come out of her thoughts. “Makes this old man happy to see you have a friend close to your age..”

“Mhm… I hope so..” The blonde replied with a soft look. Her eyes were a rare trait. They shined like rubies alongside her beautiful platinum blonde hair and pale skin. She resembled someone with albinism to some degree. It made other children steer clear of her despite how friendly she appeared.

Reginald was the first outsider to call her cute and charming, he remembered how he found her curled up in his black suit jacket one stormy night since her parents were away that weekend. He smiled fondly at the memory. Another memory was Charlie's first suit since she wanted to dress more masculine and be seen as more like herself than some prissy noble doll. He smiled watching the teen wear a very cute red suit which mimicked what Lucifer used to wear. “You've grown so much M'lady, it makes me very proud and teary.”

Charlie giggled as the truck drove up to a small abandoned red brick house that was their base. The dogs easily jumped out first as Reginald carried the backpack inside alongside the rifle his mistress used. “Well I do have the best grandpa.” She teased carrying in the unconscious Vaggie.

He smiled at the comment and went to gather the medical supplies to help the patient. “I assume you'd like to handle it, Miss Morningstar?” He asked as Charlie nodded. “Alright then, I'll go cook us something.” He left the small bedroom leaving his mistress alone.

---

Charlie got out some water that had been purified and poured it into a small bowl, she then dipped a cloth into it. “This might sting a little..” She spoke while gently removing the blood soaked bandages on Vaggie's face. She winced seeing the empty socket but carefully wiped around it since an infection there could prove deadly.

The latter hissed as her good eye opened slightly. “Sorry!” She heard Charlie say as the blonde flinched back. “So how bad is it?” Vaggie asked as her stomach churned from the headache.

“W-well..” Charlie scratched her cheek a bit. “There's a few jagged marks since an x was carved into it, it seems like whoever did this was brutal, Reginald says it was the work of a machete.” She sheepishly stated, though, applied rubbing alcohol to a clean cloth. “I need to disinfect it…”

“Do what you gotta do. I can't move anyway..” Vaggie groaned, closing her eyes, making the x on her left eyelid seen even more. Charlie felt bad seeing it, but she then rolled up a free cloth. “Hmm?”

“Bite down on this..” The blonde offered since it was better than biting the tongue.

“Gracias…”

The process of cleaning the wounds was long, but the pain did keep Vaggie awake, though she was grateful for the cloth she was biting down on. Charlie got to the smaller woman's back and blinked, her eyes widening in horror. “Fuck…” She breathed, seeing the lacerations. “You're seriously one tough woman since you've managed to survive with these wounds…”

This earned a soft chuckle from Vaggie, who then winced feeling Charlie apply a medical gauze to her back. “I used to live with people from my military days, and was also the youngest female soldier there too.” She replied looking back. “They were not the nicest to say the least…”

Charlie winced at the last comment but then blushed a bit. “Sorry but um… Could you move your arms up, please?” She asked as Vaggie chuckled.

“Aren't you polite.” The Latina playfully teased with a soft smile, though she did move her arms to the best the wounds would allow, since Charlie had to wrap her torso. “Wh-what, it's only natural to ask when doing this?”

“Unless the person is out cold?” Vaggie smirked, teasing her some more.

“Hey, you were bleeding from the eye! I had to do something!” Charlie defended looking like a pouting puppy. She soon re-wrapped Vaggie's left eye again with a fresh gauze and bandages. The two were seen laughing a bit as Reginald came in with dinner as it was almost nightfall.

“This is my butler Reginald, he drove us here.” Charlie gestured to the older man.

“A pleasure my lady. It seems M'lady has done quite well patching you up too.” He smiled seeing the handiwork.

Vaggie eyed him a bit, but found he wasn't a threat since he didn't look at her with that gross objectifying gaze Adam usually had. “Vaggie..” She replied, but looked away since he reminded her of the elderly couple her old gang had bullied.

“A lovely name for a young miss. Now please you must be hungry, so eat up.” Reginald commented with a kind smile to his warm green eyes.

Charlie smiled and took a bowl from the tray Reginald was holding. “First bowl is yours, Vaggie.” She grinned, making the smaller woman blink. “Oh uh thanks..”

Reginald took his food with him as he left the girls seeing how Vaggie looked a little uncomfortable around men. “Poor girl.. Though I have to wonder why that Hummer was there in the first place.” He pondered and decided to look into it.

That night the girls rested well with the pair of dogs beside them, though Reginald gasped at his findings while using the high powered radio. “United Sanctuary of Heaven?” He blinked since his master Lucifer had belonged to such a place. “The Exorcists Platoon?” He nodded hearing that it was the group that drove the army issued Hummers. “M'lady I hope you know what you're doing…” He decided not to report this to his mistress just yet, as he trusted Charlie's judgement.

-----

The info weighed on Reginald during the month it took Vaggie to heal fully. He wanted to ask the girl about it, but saw she was still a little skittish around him. Charlie and the dogs not so much. “Miss Vaggie, I found this in the basement awhile ago. Would you like it?” He asked, trying to make friends with her.

Vaggie blinked as in his hands was a powerful 12 gauge Ithaca 37 shotgun. “No way!” Her eye lit up seeing it. “That's a 1933 model, where the fuck did you get this?!” She actually smirked holding the pump-action gun.

“It seems the owner of this house loved his guns, I've found a 1982 AutoMag .44 magnum as well.” The butler smiled, showing the gun on his belt.

Charlie blinked, looking over after hearing that adorable squee. She had her mouth agape hearing Vaggie going off about guns and weapons and finding it fun to discuss with Reginald, who was smiling. “Huh…” The blonde found this to be really cute as her blush deepened. “Ah fuck, I think I might have a crush..” She watched the short haired brunette with a ramble on with a beautiful grin. “No c'mon Charlie, you've only known this girl for a month and your lonely ass got attached.” She muttered and scolded herself.

She remembered the month that had gone by clearly, from the cleaning of the wounds while sneaking a peek at that gorgeous lightly tanned skin with small freckles along the back, shoulders and nape, to the quick catches and gentle touches she had given to Vaggie's skin when the woman was about to fall. Charlie grumbled remembering how focused and hot she looked when test firing some BB guns to get back into shape. She sighed and went to do some light training in the backyard as a way to clear her head.

Vaggie soon looked around for Charlie to gush and show her new shotgun too like a kid with a new toy. But what greeted her lone eye was a sight to behold. Charlie kicked the bottle that was placed on a dummy clean off with her right foot. She looked like she barely broke a sweat and super focused. “Dios mio…” Vaggie watched since she only ever saw the friendly puppy dog side. Reginald noticed and playfully walked away since he didn't want to spook Vaggie.

----

Charlie kept at it for an hour and easily left the dummy she was beating up a huge mess. She sighed with her mind still filled with gay thoughts. She grumbled and went to practice her shooting not knowing her crush was watching her from inside the house. “Towel m'lady?” Reginald came over after another hour holding up a small red towel.

Charlie sighed and took it gratefully, she wiped the back of her neck since her long blonde hair made it heat up a lot. “Sorry for the mess.” She replied sheepishly since due to her practice she left the backyard disheveled.

“No need to apologize, I'm just glad you're using the facility I've made.” The butler smiled as he walked past Charlie. He was at least a few inches shorter as his mistress was tall for her age. He smiled, remembering how the little princess was so small.

Reginald thought back to his time at the manor. He smiled when he thought of the first friendly grin he got from Charlie when she was little. He chuckled, cleaning up as more memories surfaced. Her giddy face when she went on a date with Seviathan since their fathers got them together, then her tears when the fuckwit broke her heart since he made her feel unwanted and ugly, and then the emo phase, what a sight that was. Reginald sighed as he tried to help her with the pain since her father seemed so distant with her as was her mother. He managed to coax her out of that phase as he reminded her of who she used to be.

He spotted Charlie in the present helping him with the chore. He smiled softly seeing that kind hearted girl he knew, however he couldn't help but feel saddened when he remembered how lonely she was. He sighed softly since for a time before the apocalypse happened he had been retired with his wife, which left the girl alone for several years as he wanted to take care of his family first. She understood but was still sad. However when the two were brought together again in this hellish world, he couldn't have been happier to return to her side. “M'lady you don't have to do this.” He replied though winced since his back was getting bad.

“Nonsense! Your back has been bothering you lately so this is the least I can do to help you Reginald.” Charlie replied seeing her butler rubbing a sore spot on his lower back.

“I blame myself for getting old.” He chuckled trying to make a joke. “You're too kind to an old fart like me.”

----

Vaggie blinked having gone inside the house as she looked from the window seeing them, she felt a soft twinge inside as the two reminded her of her family back home, and the old platoon she cared for despite what the general and his lieutenant did to her. She moved away from the window as a tear threatened to escape. “Wasn't I one of the best there was, so why did they betray me? All I did was spare some survivors from their raid…” Her mind drifted to that day.

----

“Hey Vaggie, check this out.” Adam smirked, pronouncing her name with a hard g. “A raider camp of filthy bastards prime for the picking. Shall we go see what we can find, eh Vagasaurus?”

“As long as I can test out this badass new machete, I'm good.” Lute replied, holding up what looked to be a thin bill hook blade.

Vaggie smiled at her two friends and then back at the squad of seven black and grey camo dressed soldiers, most being women. “Another set of raiders off the map is a good enough reason to me.”

Then it happened. The squad took down the ‘raider’ camp, which turned out to be innocent survivors who didn't pay Adam's ridiculous tax that made their area safe. Vaggie's stomach churned, seeing the glee the others took, taking down the small six man encampment. She spotted a woman and her child running into the Hellway and followed, not knowing Adam and Lute were behind her. “P-please mercy, we're not fighters at all!” The mother pleaded, holding her baby boy close.

Vaggie winced a bit, removing her grey camo helmet, which had a face mask painted to resemble a frowning demon. “I'm not here to hurt you, but you can't stay in here either. So run now, there's a miata three blocks down from here with half a tank of fuel left.” She ushered and watched the family bolt with a tearful thank you.

She sighed softly watching them go, but blinked hearing a bullet whizz past her head and nail the woman in the back. “What a bad thing you've just done…” A male voice spoke, making Vaggie's blood run cold. “Shame too, you were one of our best.”

“Stop!” She pointed her old military rifle at Adam. “Let the kid go now, or else a bullet goes through your fucking head!”

Adam laughed and shrugged, he did as asked so that Vaggie would drop her guard enough for Lute to swing that machete cutting both the old gun in half and her left eye in the process. “See I let the kid go since we're old friends. But now we got a problem, see?” His finger jabbed to the zombies approaching.

Lute grinned and turned Vaggie's face and carved out that eye causing the smaller woman to howl with pain and sent it flying for the zombies to catch the scent. “You'll be perfect zombie food since you caused this unnecessary commotion you little bitch.”

“Lute why..” Vaggie asked since Lute had been like family to her when she lost her own.

Adam laughed seeing Lute stomp on Vaggie's back. “Be sure to carve up those little wing tattoos on her back. I can't have anyone finding an exorcist dead.” He smirked as Lute was all too happy to tear up the mark of the Platoon making Vaggie suffer even more.

The two turned their backs to a wounded Vaggie, but she growled, refusing to die right there. She took her bowie knife and slashed the grey army bag off of Adam's back, and grabbed it swiftly when Lute ran out to start the Hummer. Adam, hearing only his loud laugh and zombie snarls, didn't notice it at all.

“He was always such a giant dumbass…” Vaggie huffed softly and soon used the radio in the back to call for aid.

-----

Vaggie shuddered coming back from her memories, she panted softly, her body trembling with cold sweat. “How am I still alive..” She muttered though quickly changed her demeanor when she heard the door.

“It's gotten dark out, but the clean up is done.” Reginald chuckled, retiring to his cot. “Good night ladies.”

“Night Reginald.” Charlie replied smiling. She soon lightly tugged at her shirt collar. “Man I'm sweaty, I think I'll go wash up.”

Vaggie blinked watching the blonde leave. She wanted to reach out but her hand stopped midway as her mind sneered at her. You've killed so many innocents, do you really think you deserve comfort? Those words sent a shudder down the brunette's spine.

---

Upstairs Charlie used a wet cloth to wipe herself down, water was getting scarce in the area, same with food as she sighed. “We might have to move soon.” She looked over the list of supplies. “Medicine is also low, and the report of increased zombie activity is worrying me.”

While Charlie looked over the notes and jotted down more in an empty notebook, Vaggie was sitting downstairs trying to keep her mind off of the horrible daydream-like memory. The brunette sighed, closing her right eye as the other one had been sealed shut due to the scarring. “Hmm?” She opened her eye to see the two border collies looking at her. “Hey boys..”

The pups saw that tired strained smile, Dazzle nudged his brother Razzle to go get Charlie while he soon laid down on the couch beside Vaggie, plopping his fluffy head on her lap.

Razzle barked in affirmation, and dashed upstairs making Charlie yelp. “Razzle, you scared me!” She sighed, placing a hand over her racing heart. “Why are you up here boy?”

Razzle tugged on her sleeve, asking her to follow him, which the blonde did out of curiosity.

Charlie's heart sank seeing the tired gaze Vaggie had as the brunette looked up hearing footsteps. “Are you ok?” She asked coming over to sit down beside her while Razzle laid on the floor. “Sorry for saying this but you look like shit.”

“I feel like shit..” Vaggie replied not even hiding it since she was a terrible liar.

Charlie looked at her dogs, she knew animals had a keener sense for when something was wrong. She then smiled softly and got up, making Dazzle move as well. “I think a good night sleep in a soft bed will fix that, for a whole month you've been on that couch!” The blonde explained then she gave a cute devilish smirk. “Up we go!”

This made Vaggie yelp as she was scooped up by the taller woman. “Hey! I don't mind the couch, honestly!”

“Nope, you're coming with me.” Charlie started to walk towards the stairs. “And I won't take no for an answer especially since you look exhausted!”

Vaggie was about to open her mouth but closed it with a soft grumble. She was soon plopped down on the big comfy bed. “Dios mio, you're so stubborn..”

“Someone has to be since you've been pushing yourself ever since you were able to walk two weeks ago!” Charlie replied and gave a cute pout. She soon climbed into bed and held Vaggie close making the brunette blush a bit. “Besides you're cold aren't you, I'm seriously like a furnace so this works out too.” She lightly nuzzled into Vaggie's hair trying to hide her own blush.

Vaggie never really had been this close to anyone, even back with her old group, everyone slept in shifts to keep an eye out for zombies, and raiders. She had taken it upon herself to repay Charlie back by being her own watch dog since her senses were used to it. “I guess…” The brunette muttered but couldn't ignore that pleasant apple scent and warmth that came from Charlie. It put her at ease as she leaned in lightly nuzzling those breasts.

This sent Charlie's mind into a bi-panic as her blush darkened as much as it could since she was like an albino. “Night Vaggie..” She smiled softly with her heartbeat quickening.

It felt so right to hold her, more than it ever did with her ex boyfriend as Charlie soon fell asleep hearing that soft reply. “Night Charlie…”

---

Somewhere in the early morning Charlie awoke slightly feeling a bit of fidgeting in her arms. The scent of lavender clued her in as to who it was. “Mmhn?” She opened an eyelid and looked down.

During their sleep, Charlie had moved from laying on her side to laying on her back taking Vaggie with her as she saw the smaller woman nuzzle closer into the crook of the blonde's neck. Her tired eyes stared at the beauty cradled in her arms with a dopey smile. “She sure is cute, even when asleep.” She muttered giving a soft kiss to Vaggie’s head. That sleepy motion instantly awoke Charlie who had an ‘oh fuck’ look. Relief went through her as she saw that Vaggie hadn't woken up. “Calm your lonely ass down girl..” She laid back on the pillow mentally kicking herself.

It was another hour before Vaggie would awoke with a soft groan and very cute yawn. “This isn't the couch..” She mumbled, blinking away her sleepiness. “Too cozy and warm..”

“Um thanks?” Charlie replied awkwardly as Vaggie blinked only to look down at the cheeky blonde. “Ack!” She backed up, moving to the foot of the bed making Charlie laugh.

“How long were you awake?!”

“An hour, I couldn't move you since you kinda just nuzzled into me?”

Hearing that Vaggie blushed and groaned, hiding her face with her hands. It was so awkward but a part of her was annoyed she left that cozy spot. “It's your fault for being a good pillow!”

“Why thank you.” Charlie kept that playful grin showing her teeth with slightly long canines. “How would you like to rate your sleep, Miss?” She teased.

Vaggie whacked her with a pillow making Charlie laugh and snort. She couldn't resist laughing along since that smile was infectious. “Jerk… But fine, it was honestly the best I've had alright?”

“The best huh?” Charlie smiled but then gave a softer look. “You do look a lot more refreshed. But if I may, why are you pushing yourself so hard every night to keep watch for zombies? Razzle and Dazzle plus the jingling cans we've set up are already doing that job for us so we can relax.” She asked, since she's seen the dark circles under Vaggie's eyes.

Vaggie shifted awkwardly, lightly playing with some of her hair since it had gotten a little longer than the short bob she had previously. “I used to be a watchdog for my previous group and it's just a habit by now. But if it helps protect you princesa then I don't mind being alone at night.”

Charlie puffed up her cheeks with a cute growl. “Well then break that habit please, you're not my personal guard Vaggie, you're my friend, best friend if I'm honest..” She replied poking Vaggie on the nose.

The brunette blinked, though a soft smile graced her lips. “I’ll try but no promise though. Never know when it could come in handy.” She chuckled but squeaked when Charlie brought her into a big hug.

Vaggie chuckled a bit and patted Charlie on the back, she however started to feel her stomach twist with guilt. However the taller woman moved back and got up with a grin, and started to move away from the bed. Vaggie watched her get ready but had to look away since when Charlie bent over, she got a nice view of that cute butt. “Fuck she's really cute.” She mumbled but couldn't help it as she looked back again seeing the light framing Charlie's figure.

“Thank you!” She cooed nuzzling Vaggie.

---

Though that was short lived as the dogs started barking. “M'lady! We've got a problem!” Reginald called, making Charlie pick up her Hawken rifle and dash downstairs followed by Vaggie with her shotgun.

“Shit, how did so many get past the cans?!” Charlie hissed seeing several zombies banging on their makeshift fence, she soon spotted why as the set up had fallen apart. “Great…”

“If we use our guns it'll draw even more, so let me handle this!” Vaggie growled then smirked, grabbing a harpoon off the wall. “Perfect..”

Reginald blinked seeing Vaggie easily jump onto the platform before the fence and started stabbing at swiping with reckless abandon. “That crazy girl…” He growled as one went for a bite on Vaggie, he had no choice but to shoot it with his pistol. “M'lady grab everything we can take, and get to the truck!” He shouted as Charlie nodded whistling for her dogs.

Vaggie danced around the grabs but stumbled as the platform crumbled. “Shit!” She tried to get back as a zombie with a huge gaping jaw and jagged teeth tried to bite her. “Get away from my granddaughters!” She heard Reginald roar and blasted the zombie in the head while pushing Vaggie behind him.

Charlie gulped but pushed her foot hard on the gas pedal making the truck rush forward as she ran over several. “Sorry!” She called hearing the crunch. “Now's not the time for that!” Vaggie replied watching the house disappear from view.

He was bitten on the forearm making Vaggie's eye go wide. “Reginald!” She yelled but watched as he fired his gun at the zombie and jumped down. “Don't worry, just run!” He pulled her along as the duo jumped into the truck. “DRIVE M'LADY!”

(Heyo! Hope you enjoyed my 5K word chapter ^^)

[wintervalewriter]

crushing - jasper hale

hi! i read your twilight headcannons and i loved them!! but can i request a bella’s younger sister or someone from the wolf pack having a crush on jasper and how it would be?

thank you so much! this is such a cute request, i hope you like it!

You had been living with Charlie for a while now

When Bella decided to also live with Charlie you were very excited

You missed your sister and you were happy to see her

Introducing Bella to your friendgroup

People immediately notice Bella as the new girl, gaining her and you some popularity

You tended to stay out of the spotlight, staying with your group of friends and not straying away

There weren’t that many people in Forks anyway

The first day on lunch break, the two of you sat with the group

“Who are they?“

The Cullens, of course

Angela started to explain everything about the Cullens

Their names, relations, parents, family, some weird conspiracy theories people at school made up

“And that, is Jasper Hale. Always with his best friend Alice.“

You turn red when you see him enter the lunchroom

The entire group notices

As usual

“And Jasper is also the one that y/n has a crush on.“

You swat her arm, a stressed look on your face

Jessica wasn’t the most quiet person, what if they heard?

Your crush was hard to hide, everyone could tell that you liked the blonde

You would get nervous around him, stuttering, getting red, all that stuff

As the weeks passed, you noticed Bella getting significantly closer to one of the Cullen’s, Edward

He would come over of Bella would go to their house

The brown haired boy would even sit with you and your sister at lunch

You thought he was very nice, and as long as he was good to your sister, there wouldn’t be any problems

One day during lunch, you zoned out again

Looking at the blonde boy across of the lunchroom

Just thinking about the crush, the boy, your feelings

Edward seems to laugh and it feels like Jasper can see you stare

Looking away when he looks your way, embarrassed but calming down quite fast, something you never really had

Once embarrassed, you would be stuck in that for an hour

But now, you didn’t

Edward seems to pick up on your confusion, but doesn’t respond to it

“I have a dinner at the Cullen’s, do you want to come?“

A dinner? At the Cullen household?

You raise your eyebrows at her

“I have never even seen them eat anything, how would a dinner work?“

Bella and you laugh

“Edward says that they have a very strict diet! Esme is going to make some Italian food.“

You wouldn’t say no to Italian food

You got Bella to promise you that she would stay by your side, considering you don’t really know anyone from the family

Edward had come to pick you and Bella up

The Cullen house looks beautiful, with tall windows letting in a lot of sunlight

Once the three of you had gone up the stairs, you could immediately smell the food

“Bella, y/n, welcome! I’m making Italian food.“

The table was already set, only two plates set on the table

You frown, but then remembering that they probably wouldn’t eat with you

But apparently, Bella had already ate

This made Rosalie extremely mad

She started talking about things you didn’t understand, how the family would be in danger, Bella keeping secrets, things ending badly and Bella being a meal?

You were extremely confused, but Edward quickly pulled Bella away and upstairs

Leaving you.. Alone.. With the Cullens

The blonde girl was still standing in the corner, looking like she is about to put on some boxing gloves to fight Bella

“Y/n, I- Would you maybe like some dinner? We made it already. We can’t eat it ourselves. Diet.“

You open your mouth, but Esme already sits you down at the table and places different plates in front of you

“Is it okay if Jasper stays here? We have to do some groceries.“

You hadn’t noticed Jasper as he was hidden in the corner, not really present

Nervously you only nodded and Jasper sat across of you

You hadn’t even talked to him once, your crush on him preventing you from being able to do so

After a few minutes, you took a bite of the food

a m a z i n g

“Hey, Jasper?“

This was the first time you even talked to him

“How does your mom know how to cook this well if you guys don’t eat this? Bella said you have a strict diet.“

The comment made him laugh

It was the first time you had heard him laugh and it was beautiful

“They watched a cooking show. We normally don’t eat this. We follow one of those raw diets.“

That explains a lot

You had finished most of the food, but it was so much that you couldn’t even finish it

Jasper said that you wouldn’t have to worry about it and took your dishes

Accidentally touching your hand as he took the last plate

His hand extremely cold

“Maybe you should wear a jacket, you’re freezing!“

Jasper turns around with a smile on his face

“I don’t know if it’ll help.“

You turn around to face him, but before you can muster up any courage to talk again, you see something crazy

Your sister, on the back of Edwards back, jumping out of the window and onto one of the highest trees you had ever seen

“What the fuck?“

Jasper looks up from the sink, seeing that you have run to the window, and his gaze soon follows yours

There he sees Edward, climbing up the tree with Bella, jumping from tree to tree

He mentally face palms as he looks at you, mouth wide open and eyes big as you tried to process what you had seen

“Hey uh, why don’t you sit down with me? I’ll explain.“

This was going to be a looong story

[ryosmne]

You're gonna fry your brain.

Hello everyone, since it's finals season and we're all probably really dead inside, I decided to self indulge in some tattoo artist! Sukuna writing, so here's this brainrot that won't let me focus on studying. You can read more of this au in the au masterlist.

I've been trying so hard to finish up a bartender! Dabi fic I have in the works for too long, hopefully I can get around to it too. After finals are done I'll be writing a lot more that's for sure.

Tattoo artist! Sukuna x f!reader

Warnings: language, suggestive tones, that's it.

Finals are by far the worst thing about college, y/n knows that the hard way. She's been stressing herself out for the past few days, maybe weeks, going over the same material again and again. She'd constantly argue that she really needs to pass with an high grade that's why she's so obsessive over it.

Sukuna had tried multiple times to help her ease her nerves, he's been there, although he was the type who never really stuck his nose in a book for too long, regardless, his best girl needed a break, no matter how hard she denied it.

Y/n had declined his invitations of going out, she dropped by the shop a few times, bringing Sukuna some food, but he could tell she was slowly burning herself up.

Today was no different, y/n had been writing everything down all day to help memorize it better. So many hours has passed since she started her study session but she didn't even notice that her clock read 8 pm already.

Sukuna did notice, y/n had been barely responding back to his texts and it was time he took matters into his own hands.

The earpiercing doorbell pulled y/n out of her trance like state, she quickly got up from her desk to go and get rid of whoever just rung it.

"Dollface, I was beginning to think you had died in there."

There was Sukuna, leaning in her doorframe, looking as good as he always did, in a plan white t shirt and a gray pair of sweatpants, holding a few bags and a huge basket.

"not quite, what's all this?"

Y/n motioned to the bags he had.

"Nothing much, just some things I picked up for you, will you let me in? this basket is fucking heavy."

No, the basket wasn't that heavy, Sukuna could carry it just fine, he just wanted to make sure that y/n didn't have a chance to deny him.

Y/n stepped aside to let Sukuna in, and he went straight to her kitchen, dropping his bags on the table.

"Thanks for dropping by babe, but I really need to finish the last three chapters I have left."

"Y/n, you're going to fry your brain at this rate, no more studying for today."

"But-"

"No buts, you won't read another sentence today. We're destressing together."

Turns out, Sukuna had brought over many different things. He's not the type of guy to shy away from anything, so the first thing he did was to grab y/n and drag her into her bathroom.

Sukuna had taken mental notes the first time he looked through y/n's skincare products, he was able to determine her skin type and he went a bit crazy, buying her different things to try out.

"You are insane, that's drunk elephant, why did you get this many things?"

"Because you have the really terrible cheap stuff, now shut up you're going to eat the soap if you keep talking with cleanser all over your face."

Now, y/n's skincare wasn't bad, Sukuna had expensive taste and he's a bit of a brand snob

Sukuna gently poked her cheek with a smile as y/n's face distorted because she had in fact tasted the cleanser and Sukuna could only laugh at her before she flicked some into his mouth too.

"Don't kiss me with a face mask on you brat"

Y/n let out a soft laugh, Sukuna was doing his best to concentrate at the task at hand. Matching y/n's nail polish to his. Y/n had just finished painting his, matte black like he requested but y/n gave him some white polish on his ring finger. Sukuna had argued for a bit, saying it didn't look good and that he didn't like it, but gave in after y/n gave him a puppy face, can you blame him?

"But you look so cute like that."

Y/n complained, knowing that this little comment was going to feed Sukuna's ego more.

"I know doll, but artificial orange doesn't taste as good as it smells."

Y/n once again wasn't wrong, his cocky attitude always creeped in at times, not that she minded.

Time passed fast with watching trash reality shows on y/n's couch, after their very own self care day, Sukuna made sure to fix something they could both eat. Now they were engolved in each others arms, y/n's sleepy eyes staring up at him.

"How are you feeling, doll?"

Sukuna's hand found her hair, gently resting on top of her head.

"Much better, you're the best you know that?"

"I've heard it once or twice, I'll give you reasons to say it more often"

He gave her a gentle smile, leaning closer to steal a kiss, a little more intimate than the ones they shared earlier.

" 'Kuna, I'm sorry I was so stressed and distant this week, I probably worried you-"

"Don't be stupid, it's ok, I just want you to know I'm here for you, and it's just finals. You're a smart cookie, I'm sure you'll do great."

Y/n found his words reassuring and nuzzled closer to him, letting her lungs burn with his scent that never got less intoxicating.

"Thank you 'kuna, what would I do without you?"

The last few words came out slurred, but Sukuna understood everything, y/n's breathing got steadier against him.

"I don't know doll I'm just glad to have you here, I promised to take good care of you."

And just like that, y/n was fast asleep next to him, he didn't mind her uncomfortable couch one bit all he cared about was how at peace she looked. Maybe he would move her to her bed later, he couldn't bring himself to do it now.

The next morning, y/n found herself on her bed, Sukuna had almost woken her up getting ready before he left to go to work, but he managed to put her right back to sleep with a kiss on the forehead and a light "don't wake up yet doll".

Y/n made her way to the kitchen, Sukuna usually left a little letter for her on the nightstand by the bed, he must've been in a rush today.

Not quite the case.

Sukuna not only made her, her favourite breakfast, he also left post it notes in some places.

You suck at food shopping, thank me later.

Was written on her fridge.

So that's what all the bags were for, y/n didn't find out last night because of how tired she was, and how much fun she had being around sukuna.

He had filled up her fridge with everything she ever needed to make a meal for herself or have a snack. Let's be honest Sukuna just wanted to cook for her again.

Another post it was found in her bathroom cabinet.

You're probably gonna get mad at me for this but I'm not sorry, you deserve it.

The poor cabinet was stuffed to the brim with brand name skincare that made anyone's wallet scream in anguish and a lot of bathbombs. Upon closer look y/n almost cried at how attentive Sukuna was, he took extra care to look out for her skins needs.

Y/n found the last post it on her desk while she did her revision.

Don't overwork yourself doll, you've got me for that.

Y/n brought Sukuna cupcakes from seven different bakeries to try that day.

Bonus Domain shenanigans: "Sukuna left early again?"

Megumi asked, the day had been going pretty slow he wasn't surprised his friend dipped.

"Yeah, he left this behind though."

Geto held up a very nice looking white shop bag, a slight glimmer in his eye let the rest of his friends know he planned something.

"So? What's in it anyways?"

Gojo was resting his chin on his hand, blank expression on his face, completely unamused by Geto's discovery.

"Give me that"

Nanami swiftly snatched the bag, curious to see what was inside of it. He reached in and retrieved several wrapped round objects.

"Bathbombs?"

He questioned puzzled, but then his lips tugged upward.

Megumi, Nanami, Gojo and Geto, each got two bathbombs, and even though they would outright say it, they were pretty damn exited to drop them in their bathtubs. That's what Sukuna gets for avoiding clean up.

Sukuna entered the shop barely greeting anyone and begun looking around. Fuck he was looking for something, everyone tried to keep their composure.

"Have you seen a white bag?"

He finally looked at the group of men before him.

"like a backpack? No "

Megumi spoke, Sukuna begun thinking he was remembering everything wrong, that's untill he saw something sticking out of Geto's pocket. That's for sure a bathbomb he bought for y/n

"You motherfuckers, how low can you stoop to steal my girls bathbombs?"

Hey it's me again, though I'd add that here, if you have specific skin demands I tried to cover that in here so everyone can enjoy it, I have lots of allergies and skin concerns so I'm kinda sensitive to that stuff. Hope you had fun reading, remember to take it easy, untill next time :>

Tag list: (comment or message me and I’ll gladly add you)

@artist4theworld @skatercashew

@divineteaty

@in-inception

@not-another-ackerman

@jjk-is-my-shit @ilovemarvel99

@thegaymadafakkasworld @readinghassavedmylife @ruler-of-the-skies

@bluebananasssss

@ghost-of-todoroki

@sabsaocit

@heaveus

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@aam1na @sore-eyes@ryan249057 @goobygoobster @charlie-xo @kamisamaundercover

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@stupid-simp33 @ciphersighs

[13-reasons-ideas]

requests are still open yay! MontyxOc, Oc dated Monty a year ago.. things didn’t quite work out but her & Monty maintained a close friendship some say a little too close for ex’s. She stared dating (any one of the guys) but Monty continued to flirt with her she wasn’t stopping him either, She feels bad & tells Monty to stop flirting & trying to get with her... He doesn’t she starts to get fed up and on a class trip they argue over it.. the argument however ends much differently (smut)

A/N: This story contains SMUT. DNI if under 18. 18+ only. This is a long one you guys. Definitely bring a snack and a cup of tea to read it. I’m sorry if the spacing is weird. I can’t to hear what you have to say about it! Feedback is appreciated and much love as always. - Em

Friends Don’t 

I met Monty in the park. Things had been different between us recently. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He turned in my direction. I sat on a picnic table and watched him for a few minutes. He seemed like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

“What’s going on in that hot head of yours?”

“I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t want to mess everything up.”

“Well how will you know if you do, if you don’t take the chance?” I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this Reagan.” Even though I had a feeling, it still felt like a punch in the gut to hear him say it.

“For what?”

“Things to get serious.”

“Who said anything about serious? We are sixteen.”

“I don’t know. Do you want to pretend that I’m ready to date someone? That doesn’t seem very fair to you.”

I shrugged. He has a point. He’s not exactly in a great place right now. “I guess not.” Even though I didn’t want to, I felt tears starting to well up and the familiar prickle in my nose. I blinked a few times because I knew he was right. It just sucked to hear.

“I don’t want to not have you around though.”

“I know. I don’t want to not have you around either. You know me better than anyone. Best friends?”

“Best friends.”

“And if you ever need anything, I’m there. No matter what.”

“Day or night.”

“Always.”

ONE YEAR LATER

Monty and I stayed close. We kept our promise to be best friends. After all, we knew each other better than anyone. We hung out after school and got coffee. He came over and we watched movies. It was almost like we didn’t break up. Almost. For a while after our breakup things were awkward. We hadn’t really figured out where our boundaries were. After some time, we got comfortable again. Some people would say we were a little too close. It didn’t really matter that much to us if we still flirted or finished each other’s sentences.

It didn’t matter, at least until I started spending time with a certain other jock. Zach Dempsey had caught my eye before senior year but there was something about him that was different that September. He was still kind of cruel, but he was trying. He meant well. He just didn’t always know how to go about things in the best way. I knew what being forced to spend extended time with Bryce walker could do to a person. Zach and I had a few classes together over the years. Our friendship started like a lot of friendships did in school. You got stuck sitting next to someone and so you had to decide if you wanted to ignore them for the rest of the semester, or if you wanted to make your semester not suck and play nice.

We decided on the latter that first day of world history. He was late to class and the only empty seat was next to mine. I had spent time around him when Montgomery and I were dating so we were able to at least talk to each other. Our interactions consisted mostly of homework and school stuff for about a month or so. Then, slowly, we started talking about our interests and other things on our way to lunch. On one such walk to lunch, he told me about his dream of becoming a marine biologist.

“Seriously?” I asked him.

“Yeah. It’s cool. Why?”

“I don’t know. I just guess I pegged you as a guy who would want to do the athlete thing and get a business degree in case you didn’t get drafted.”

“Nah. That… that isn’t really in the cards for me.” I nodded.

“I want to go into social work.”

“No way, really?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t elaborate on why I wanted to. That was not my story to share.

“Zachy!” Scott called across the room when we got to the cafeteria.

“I- I should probably get going.” He stammered.

“Yeah. My friends are waiting.” I waved over at Jess and Alex. Zach started to walk away but turned around again.

“Did you want to get a coffee or see a movie sometime?”

“Like, together?”

“I mean, yeah.” He shrugged, trying to play it cool.

“I think I’d like that. Oh, and can you tell Montgomery and Bryce Cheerios is not lunch?” I laughed.

“But they are.”

“I guess we can discuss it over coffee.” I smiled.

“Wednesday after school?”

“Sure.”

I sat at a table with my friends. “So. I’m going on a date.” Jess and Alex looked at me with wide eyes.

“Shit. No way.” Jess smiled.

“Yeah. Zach Dempsey.” I explained, answering their unspoken question.

“Zach is nice.” Alex added.

“And he’s like… really good looking.”

“I know, right?”

“Tall.”

“Very tall.”

“Doesn’t have an anger problem.” Jess muttered under her breath. My smile faltered. I looked up and Monty’s eyes were on me. My phone vibrated. Cheerios is lunch pretty girl. I rolled my eyes. Zach said he has a date. Wouldn’t happen to be a certain girl in his world history class, would it?

I’ll give you details after. And why do you care?

On Wednesday I got a ride with Justin and Clay to school. My car was in the shop for maintenance and my house was on the way from theirs. After school, Zach drove me to Monet’s. I got to ride shotgun in the Audi. The wind feels different. Maybe it’s because this car costs more than my education will. He was a safe driver, I noticed. Soon, we had parked outside the cozy little café. We didn’t hold hands on the way inside.

Inside, I ordered a hot chocolate, and he got a cup of tea. “You like pomegranate?” I asked when we sat down.

“Yeah. It’s tart.”

“It’s pretty good. One of my favourite tea flavours.” We made small talk for a while. I wasn’t sure when the last time he had been on a date was. I hadn’t been on a real date since Monty and I broke up last year.

“Your opinion on Cheerios is wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Yeah. It’s lunch food. Or breakfast food. Hell, even dinner food.” I shook my head.

“I will never understand boys.” He laughed and picked up his spoon. “What are you doing?”

“Just watch.” He breathed on the spoon and tried to balance it on his nose. I giggled and it stuck for maybe three seconds before falling to the table. I burst out laughing.

“Can I try?” I picked up my own spoon.

“Go for it.”

“Okay, okay how do I do this?”

Zach reached over and took the spoon, holding it in front of my mouth. “Breath on it.” I did. “Now before it dries, take it, and place it on the end of your nose.” I did as he said. It fell instantly.

“Try again?” He waved. I tried again and it fell, yet again. “One more. I think I know the spot now.”

“Go on.” This time, I was able to get it to balance for four seconds. “Does this make me champion?”

“Sure. Until we have rematch.”

“A rematch you say?”

“Yes.”

“I look forward to it. Mostly so I can win again.” I smirked slightly. We spent the next couple of hours just talking to each other about stuff. Mrs. Dempsey called him home around five.

“Yeah Mom. I’m just out with the guys going over some plays. I’ll be home soon.”

“I take it I’m getting my refill to go?”

“Yeah. It seems that way. I’ll drive you home.”

We went on like that for the next few weeks. We would meet for coffee or meet up to see a movie. Go for walks in the park or by the docks. It was nice. Different than what Montgomery and I had, but it was a welcome change. We went public at school before we decided to tell our parents. My parents weren’t exactly ecstatic about me dating in my senior year and I knew how his mom felt about girls in his life. I was still talking to Monty. All the while, we had kept up the flirty banter we had started a few weeks after our breakup. Zach didn’t seem to mind much. “Good morning Beautiful.” He said as he walked over to my locker that morning.

“Hey 85.” I smiled brightly at him.

“You look very cute.”

“Why thank you kind gentleman.” I grabbed my bag off the floor and shoved my geometry book in it. Zach threw his arm around my shoulders as he walked me to class. I rested my head against him and we chatted about our night.

“So, you guys are public now.” Monty said, walking up to us with Charlie in tow.

“That’s really cute.” Charlie said.

“Yes.” I smiled. I felt Monty’s eyes traveling my body and I couldn’t help the blush that crept up my neck.

“Yeah.” Zach said.

“That’s great.” Monty replied. When we walked away, he called out, “I’ll see you around Reagan.”

I turned and called back to him, “yes you will.”

In the following few days, Monty kept up with the flirting. I didn’t stop it. I found it kind of amusing. “Going to harp on my lunch choices again Rea?”

“No. You’re an adult. I trust you to make proper choices.”

“Now, Reagan. You should know I’ve never been good with proper.” I rolled my eyes. Oh, I know.

“Seems to have done you pretty well so far. How’s… uh… collarbone tattoo?”

“Katie?”

“Sure.” He merely shrugged.

“How’s Zachy?”

“Zach is good.” Zach said, sitting down at the table. I swatted Monty’s hand away when he reached for a cookie.

“And you should know by now to not touch my food Montgomery.”

“Oh. She full named you. What’s it like to be called out by your ex like that, man?” Bryce asked.

“You don’t get a cookie either Bryce.”

“Reagan.” He held his hand up to his chest. “You wound me.”

“That’s sad for you.” I shrugged. Zach turned to me and shot me a megawatt smile.

“Do I get a cookie?” I thought for a moment.

“You can get half a cookie.”

“It’s half more than I had before.”

“I’m his best friend. Can I have the other half?” Justin asked when he sat down.

“No. My cookies.”

“I’ll trade you my Milky Way for that half.”

“No.” I laughed. “You’re sure you’re okay to come to my place later?” I asked Zach.

“Yeah. It’s just your parents. Parents like me.”

“Did he just say ‘just your parents’?” Monty looked at me with wide eyes. I shrugged. “Reagan.”

“Monty.”

“Your dad threatened to shoot me.”

“My parents never really liked you though.”

“Gee, I wonder what gave you that impression?”

“What would have?” Charlie asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe when her dad threatened to shoot me.”

“Parents don’t like you. They’ll love me.” Zach beamed.

“They don’t like you because you ruined their daughter.” Bryce laughed. Again, I shrugged. Can’t really argue with him there. Monty merely smirked, proudly. Ugh men.

“Anyway. You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. And can you remind me again why we sit here?”

“You get to see me.” Monty chuckled.

“No. No I don’t think that’s why.”

“Hurtful.”

**

In the few months after Zach and I started dating, his mom had come around to the idea of me being in his life. I spent time at his house, mostly working on homework or helping May with hers. It was tense at first but she came around eventually. Once she realized I only wanted what was best for her son. My parents were getting more used to the idea of me dating again. They saw how we interacted and seemed to approve more than they did with Monty. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the fact that I wasn’t emptying the first aid kit my mom kept stocked every month or so.

Monty and I were still close. He had recently started seeing a girl named Kyla. I wasn’t sure how serious it was but figured it could be good for him. It didn’t stop him from flirting with me though.

“Good morning gorgeous.”

“Good morning Montgomery. Good night?” I laughed.

“Of course.”

“How was your date with Kyla?” I asked.

“It was good. She cooked for me.”

“That’s nice. Was it good?” Charlie asked, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

“I mean, sure. Some kind of spinach something or other?”

“You hate spinach.” I said.

“Yes. And you hate tha-.” Monty started. I saw Zach walking towards us.

“Shhhh.” I cut him off. “Hey babe.”

“Hey beautiful.” Zach pulled me into a hug and placed a kiss on my head. “How was dinner at Alex’s last night?”

“It was good. His mom let me bring contraband in the house.”

“Contraband?” Bryce asked.

“He’s not allowed to have junk food.” Charlie explained.

“Something about healthy body healthy mind or something.”

“She’s not wrong Rea.” Zach said.

“I know but still. Let the kid have a candy bar once in a while. It won’t hurt him.”

“He prefers sour patch kids.”

“I know.” The bell rang and interrupted us. I sighed heavily and took Zach’s hand. He walked me to math and kissed me on the cheek as he left. I smiled brightly at his retreating form.

Monty texted me in math. As I was saying, you hate that you and Zach haven’t fucked yet. Have you even gotten to second base yet?

None of your god damn business.

I’ll take that as a no. Don’t worry. It’ll happen eventually. I could get Charlie to get Alex to talk to him. Or you could let me talk to him.

No!

What? You don’t want me to tell him all your dirty little secrets?

I swear to God, De la Cruz. I will wring your neck in your sleep.

You’d be doing my dad a favour. You’d at least get past the front door.

I’d wring his first. Now stop texting me and learn some shit.

Fine.

Zach sat with Alex, Jess, and I at lunch. Kyla was sitting with Monty. I got the impression that she didn’t really like me all that much. In order to avoid a catfight-as much as I think the boys would like to see it- I found it best not to sit with them when she was around. Plus, it gave me a bit of a break from all the sports talk I had to pretend to care about. I shared my granola with Jess. Alex ‘stole’ my gummy bears. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had the other bag in history. Zach kept my little secret. I felt him watching me out of the corner of his eye. He was talking to Alex about some video game. Jess and I rolled our eyes. “Boys.” We said in unison.

That weekend, Zach and I went for a walk along the docks. It was a beautiful day outside. We walked hand in hand just talking. When we felt like taking a break, we sat down on a bench overlooking the water and watched the waves. He put his arm around me and pulled me into his side. He was whispering sweet nothings in my ear. “Part of me wishes it was cold out, so I could offer you my sweater.”

“Me too.” I smiled.

“You look adorable in them.”

I giggled and hid my face in his shoulder. “I do not.”

“You do though.”

“Okay.” I blushed. He grinned at me as I peeked up at him.

We spent another hour walking and enjoying our time together. When it started to get dark, Zach walked me back to his car. He held the door open for me and kissed me before closing it. He is so sweet. The radio was playing softly. We sat in content silence for most of the drive. The purr of the engine lulled me into a peaceful sleep. “Reagan.” He whispered. I didn’t want to wake up. “Reagan. Baby, wake up for a second please.”

“Hmm?” My eyes stayed closed

“I just wanted to know if you want anything from Starbucks.”

“Sleeping.”

“You can stay in the car and sleep if you want.”

“Kay.”

“I’ll get you something.” He whispered and kissed my temple before getting out and locking the car. When I woke up, there was a cup of tea in the cup holder for me. So thoughtful.

**

I was in the middle of getting ready for a date with Zach when someone rang my doorbell. Running to answer it, my eyes widened when I saw Monty. His cheek was already starting to bruise and his knuckles were bloody. “Hey.”

“Uh. Hey there friend.” Blood was dripping onto my porch. “Just a sec.” I held up a finger and ran to grab a towel. He wrapped it around his hand before stepping inside. Thankfully there won’t be blood on the floor now. He stood in the entryway. “How’s the other guy?” I asked as I pulled out my phone to text Zach. Monty didn’t answer.

I’m so sorry. I have to cancel tonight. I think I’m coming down with a cold. I want to try to nip it in the bud and sleep it off.  

That’s okay. Do you want me to come over? I can bring you soup.

No, thanks though Zach. I’m just going to go get ready for bed and sleep so I can be better by Monday.

Okay. I’m just a text or call away if you need anything. <3

Thank you. <3

Now that my plans with Zach were taken care of, I was able to focus on the boy at my front door. “You know you don’t have to just stand there. You’ve been here before since we broke up.”

“I know. I just wanted to give you some space while you dealt with whatever plans you and Zach had.” He walked into the house further before adding, “which you didn’t have to do.”

“It’s not a big deal. I told you I would be here for you, whatever you need. Do you want some ice for your hand?” I dug around in the freezer for the tray. He tried to protest but I saw the thinly veiled wince when he flexed it. Sighing, I pulled out the freezer bags and filled one with ice. Monty accepted it begrudgingly.

“I didn’t need ice Reagan.”

“And I don’t need five million dollars Montgomery. If you don’t want it though, I’ll gladly take it back. I’m sure Kerba would love to hear about whatever bullshit reason you give for your hand being fucked again is.” He shut up and kept the ice.

“Think he would believe me if I said it was an exercise accident?”

“No.” I stated, shaking my head. Monty moved into the living room, settling in on the couch. Grabbing the remote with his good hand, he started scrolling through channels.

“You know if you hit the guide button, you can just pick a channel.”

“Yeah, but then you don’t complain about it and I can’t irritate you.”

“And I wasn’t done.” He didn’t respond, so I went into the closet for my mom’s first aid kit. She kept it stocked at all times. It was hard explaining why it was so depleted so frequently when Monty and I were together and even harder to explain why it was full after we broke up.

Walking over to the couch, I sat down and opened the kit. I grabbed some gauze and took his hand in mine. There was too much blood, so I had to go get a cloth. His lip curled when the wet cloth touched his cut knuckles. My brow rose but I didn’t say anything. Monty grimaced as I wrapped his hand. “Is your cheek okay?”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay. Have you eaten?”

“Yeah. You don’t need to feed me too Reagan.”

“Okay.” I let him continue flipping channels, knowing when to not push him. He never was very nice when I was patching him up. He finally settled on some old black and white film. Neither of us watched it. We just spent the night sitting in silence. It gave me plenty of time to think about the fact that I had lied straight through my teeth to my very nice, charming boyfriend.

A couple of weeks after I had patched Monty up, I noticed he wasn’t at school. I was walking to my locker with Alex that morning. Scott was talking to Charlie about something when we passed. “I don’t know where he is, man.”

“But we have a huge government midterm today.”

“It’s Monty. He probably just overslept or decided to cut first period.” I stopped walking unconsciously. Then where is he?

“You’re probably right.” Charlie said, as he adjusted his bag. He bumped into me when he passed. “Sorry Reagan. Guess I didn’t see you there.”

“Huh? No worries Charlie.” I smiled as he took Alex’s hand and nodded to them when they left me in the hall.

“He isn’t at school yet.” Scott said, behind me.

“Okay. I don’t know why you think I care but whatever.”

Scott looked at me seriously. “You care. Might want to look like you care less though. His replacement is coming this way.” I didn’t respond.

By lunch, I had started to worry. Charlie was right. We had a government midterm today. Monty couldn’t miss it. I scanned the cafeteria. There was no sign of him anywhere. He wasn’t in math this morning either. I couldn’t stop myself from texting him. I know you aren’t this self-destructive. Get your ass to school.

“Hey baby. Who’re you texting?”

“Just Bryce. I loaned him some of my government notes in first so he could cram. I just need them back.” Zach took my hand and we walked to the jocks table. Still no sign of Monty. I didn’t sit down. “Hey Bryce, did you get my text?”

“Uh. No?”

“About my government notes that you borrowed?”

“What-?” I gave him a look. “Oh. Yeah, I put them in my locker. Meant to bring them to lunch but it slipped my mind.”

“Can we go get them? I wanted to read over them during lunch.”

“Sure?”

“Great.” I nodded towards the door. He stood and followed me out.

“So, what the hell was that?”

“Did Monty stay at your place last night?”

“No. It’s probably nothing. You know how he is. Disappears sometimes.” We stopped walking and stepped into an empty hall.

“Yeah. It’s just that he knows this is important. I worry is all. Unlike you, he actually needs to get a scholarship.”

“I need to too Reagan.”

“You don’t. But go ahead and think that if it helps you sleep.” I shook my head and pulled my history notes out of my bag. “We’ve been gone a while. Don’t want anyone getting suspicious.” I texted Monty again while we walked in silence back to the cafeteria. If you aren’t in government I will drive to your house and kick your unfairly shapely ass. You better have a damn good excuse for not being here.

When I got to government for fifth period, I sighed in relief. Monty was sitting in his seat next to mine. “Nice of you to finally show up.” I grumbled as I sat down.

“I was busy.”

“It’s a Wednesday during school. During midterm week no less. What was so important?”

“Kyla got a new piercing a few weeks ago.” He smirked.

“You’re disgusting.”

“What? Have you and Zach still not?” My silence spoke volumes. He snorted. “No wonder you’ve been so bitchy lately. Want me to talk to him? Explain that you have needs?”

“No. I want you to not skip school to fuck your,” I paused, “Kyla. Because you aren’t a dumbass.” Even though I was pissed at him, I still waited for him until he had finished his test. We stopped at his locker so he could drop off his books.

Zach was waiting for me at my locker. We had rescheduled our movie date to today under the guise of making sure my cold was for sure gone and until midterms were complete. “Hey Zachy.” I hugged him and kissed his chest.

“Hey beautiful. How was your midterm?”

“Not bad. I think I did okay.”

“That’s good. How was it actually Monty?”

“Could have been worse. No one cried, which kind of sucks.”

“Good to know.” I put my stuff in my locker, failing miserably at the organization I had at the beginning of the year.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Monty. At eight. When you’re supposed to be at school.”

“Okay. We can go with that. You kids have fun now.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes. A blush had started to creep up my neck though. Maybe tonight.

When we got to my place, I left Zach downstairs to go change. I threw on underwear that matched my bra. Just in case. I settled on a pair of yoga pants that framed my ass well and threw on a low-cut comfortable tank top. Back downstairs, Zach was taking a bag of popcorn out of the microwave. I felt his eyes go straight to my butt as he heard me come down. I smirked slightly. I hugged him tightly from behind at the counter. “You’re cute.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not cute.”

“You are. My giant teddy bear you. Oh, and there’s a box of Mike & Ike’s in the pantry for you.”

“Thanks.” He grinned.

We scrolled through Netflix for a few minutes. Nothing looked really interesting until we scrolled past Beautiful Creatures. It’s good to make out to. And I like it. Settling in for the night, I rest my head on his lap. I sighed happily as Zach stroked my hair. It was so nice to just have a quiet night in with him. He adjusted his position slightly a while into the movie and I sat up to change positions as well. Falling asleep was not in the plans for this evening. He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer against his chest. Leaning back, I rested my head on his shoulder. I placed a few soft kisses on his neck and jaw.

Zach’s breathing picked up when my lips ghosted over a spot just under his chin. There it is. I smiled against it and kissed it again. He sighed and I pulled away to look at him. His pupils were slightly dilated. I leaned in to kiss him. He leaned in and our lips touched. It was soft and gentle at first, but quickly became deeper and more intense. This wasn’t the first time we made out at all. But this time felt different. More meaningful. Maybe it was the right choice to change my underwear. His tongue ran along my bottom lip, requesting entrance. I was more than happy to accommodate it. His hand made its way around to rest against the back of my neck. My body shifted into a kneeling position on the soft couch, so I had a better angle. One of my hands rested on his chest. The other wound its way around the back of his neck to play with the soft hairs at the top of it. So soft.

Our tongues playfully fought for dominance. Neither of us seemed too keen on winning. We were just enjoying the moment. The movie was still playing in the background, though neither of us cared. My hand traveled down his muscular body as our making out intensified. I played with the hem of his shirt. I wasn’t wanting to take it off. But I also wasn’t not wanting to take it off. My boyfriend has a very nice body. Zach took control and began leaning forward. He continued until my back hit the cushions. After some readjusting, I was laying comfortably with Zach’s large frame above me. I smirked slightly when I felt his pants beginning to tent. He only pulled away long enough to sit up and pull his shirt over his head. Ugh that is the hottest thing any man can do. The blue shirt dropped to the living room floor unceremoniously.

He kissed me once more before moving on to my neck. The initial kisses were light and teasing. He was still trying to draw a map of where all the sensitive spots were. I gasped when he brushed over my pulse point. Zach smiled softly against it. The kisses turned much less light and teasing after that. It was both sides under attack now. It felt so good. I couldn’t stop the quiet whimpers from escaping. I moaned his name and ran my fingers through his hair. Why do men get the super soft hair? God. This feels amazing. “I love you.” He breathed into my neck. My breath caught in my throat. What? It wasn’t like I had never thought I loved him. I did. I was just surprised that he said it first. When I didn’t say it back immediately, his kissing faltered. I didn’t mean to hesitate.

“I love you too.” I smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

We continued making out for a while until it got too close to my parents getting home. It was a long weekend, so they didn’t care much if he was over late. We were both adults. On weekends, they trusted us to be alone later. Even if alone meant ‘my parents are in their room upstairs or down the hall so shhh’. On school nights, Zach was gone by ten thirty. Even though they trusted us, none of us needed to experience them walking into the house to see their daughter and her boyfriend getting hot and heavy on their couch. Instead, we cozied up on the couch under a blanket and watched a couple more movies. “It’s getting late Reagan. I should head home. Mom will probably send Deputy Standall to come get me soon.”

“Okay.” Zach and I walked to the door and hugged goodbye. I stood on my tip toes and kissed him gently. “I love you.” I whispered.

“I love you too.” He whispered back.

The next morning, I woke up with tiny purple marks on the sides of my neck. He doesn’t usually leave marks. I like it. I wore my hair down so my parents didn’t see them. I may be an adult, but they still preferred I didn’t go around sporting hickeys all the time. Probably part of why they hated Monty so much. My mom felt it was anti-feminist. It was letting a man mark their territory and property. I usually challenged that with her wedding set. Dad just preferred not to think of me as being in a physical relationship. He was aware of it of course. Just preferred not to acknowledge it. Which, I mean, fair.

At school, I couldn’t leave my hair down. It was too hot. I threw it in a high ponytail in history. Zach breathed in sharply when he saw my neck. I turned and smiled at him. “Thank you.” His eyes widened and he coughed to cover a groan. During lunch, I could feel the boys staring at me as they arrived at the table.

“Damn Zach. Didn’t think you had it in you.” Bryce sniggered. I rolled my eyes.

“I did. You finally corrupted him, Reagan?” Justin wiggled his brows at us. I blushed and hid my face in Zach’s chest. I was never this shy about marks with Monty. Maybe that was because no one made comments like that when he did it. Because it was expected. And they knew he would rip their tongues out. I expected Monty to comment. He surprised me when he only quirked a brow. I was less surprised when he pulled me aside before history.

“Don’t let your parents see those. You seem quite attached to him. Wouldn’t want your dad to actually kill him. Maybe you should leave your hair down for a while. Wouldn’t want anyone getting any ideas, would you?”

I was stunned at the unnecessary hostility in his tone. Why the fuck does he care? He didn’t say anything else. I turned as he walked away, leaving me alone in the hall. I still put my hair down though.

Zach and I continued to explore the more physical aspect of our relationship in the coming weeks. Nothing too serious, just some semi-clothed touching. Maybe the rare under clothes touches. Only enough to tease. Never enough to lead anywhere. I was both grateful and frustrated by it. He didn’t leave anymore marks on me either. He could tell I was uncomfortable with his friend’s comments and wanted to avoid it as much as possible. We had agreed to wait until we were both ready. Neither of us were virgins. But it was still new. It did leave me with plenty of time to wonder what it would be like though.

When I wasn’t thinking about all the dirty things Zach and I could get up to, or Zach in general, or Monty, I occupied my time with college applications. My top choice had been UNC Chapel Hill for many years. Even before I knew what I wanted to study. I worked hard in school because of it. There were other schools I would like to go to, but none compared to UNC in my mind. I remembered when Monty and I had talked about what we wanted to do after high school, and he looked amazed but slightly skeptical at my goal. I knew he didn’t mean anything bad by it. We both knew how big of a goal I was. Zach had a different look on his face. He looked at me with complete faith that it would happen. It wasn’t even a question to him. He didn’t verbalize the thought, but I could see it in his eyes. I just hoped he was right.

Admissions emails were due to go out any day now. I both couldn’t wait and absolutely dreaded it. I had applied to seven schools. Statistically speaking, I had to get into at least one of them. I just wasn’t sure which one. Zach tried his best to reassure me that everything would work out. Our friends agreed with him. Monty also tried to reassure me. And keep my mind off of it with his incessant flirting. It was nice. I had a constant I could focus on. Monty flirting with me, as strange as it sounded, was keeping me calm. Zach tried his best to keep my mind occupied. We talked about anything but schools unless we needed to. It was sweet.  I just wasn’t sure it was helping much.

The pring of an email notification on my phone pulled my attention away from the textbook I was reading. I quickly grabbed my laptop and logged on. Pulling up Gmail, I held my breath. It could be any email. An email titled University of North Carolina Chapel Hill Office of Registrar Admissions Decision sat at the top of my inbox in bold letters. This is it. Holy crap. I was shaking so hard I opened the wrong email first.

Back on my inbox page, I took a very deep breath and opened the email. Dear Miss Reagan Taylor, thank you for your application to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. We regret to inform you that you have not been accepted for admission at this time. I couldn’t read any further. There was more information, I just couldn’t bring myself to read any of it. My eyes had begun to fill with tears. I didn’t get in. I worked so hard. And I still didn’t get in. Numbly, I moved the computer off my lap and grabbed my phone. Unconsciously, I selected a contact and put it to my ear as I felt myself beginning to dissociate.

“Hello?”

“Hi. A-are you busy right now?”

“I don’t have to be. What’s wrong?”

“C-can you come here? Please?”

“I’ll be right there.”

I numbly walked out of my room and went to unlock the front door. In my room, I sat in the center of my bed and hugged my knees. Willing the tears to remain at bay, I screwed my eyes shut. That didn’t do much to help, because all I saw was a string of the words not been accepted running over and over again.

A knock on my bedroom door caused me to look up. I wasn’t aware of how much time had passed. He was standing in my doorway with his hands tucked in his pockets. “I didn’t get in.” I said softly. My voice cracked. His long stride had him at my bedside and sitting down within only a few steps. He pulled me close to him and I cried into his shoulder. He laid us back and he held me as I cried. I felt so vulnerable as we laid there silently.

It must have been at least an hour before we moved. It had started getting dark outside. “Thank you, Monty.”

“You needed me.”

“I know. I just,” I paused, “thank you.”

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” I walked him to the door and went to take a shower. When I got out, I saw that Zach had texted me. I love you and I hope you’re having a good day. I sighed to myself. I couldn’t bring myself to find the energy to text him back. Instead, I crawled into bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

The next day, I threw on a pair of sweatpants and one of Zach’s t-shirts. I was too upset about the email to really care about looking nice. I met Zach at his car in the parking lot. He had a cup of hot chocolate for me and had his adorable happy grin plastered across his face. “Morning beautiful.” I took the to go cup gratefully.

“Morning.” He put his arm around me as we walked, and I leaned against his large frame.

“How was your night?”

“It was okay. Yours?”

“It was alright. Anything exciting happen?” Exciting is not the word I would use.

“Uh, no. Not really.” We had reached my locker. I opened it and dug around for my stuff.

“Hey, Reagan.” Luke called from across the hall. I lifted my arm and waved at him without turning around.

“What’s up Luke?” I asked when he was at my locker. Some of the football team was with him, including Monty.

“You know, it goes. I heard back from UNC yesterday. Did you?”

“Uh.” I cleared my throat and tried to will away more tears. I didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath Monty made. “I uh… Yeah. I didn’t get in.” I muttered. There was confused murmuring all around me. The only one who didn’t say anything was Monty. I didn’t have to look up to see that Zach was glaring daggers at him.

“How did they not accept you?” Charlie asked.

“I don’t know Char. It was a long shot anyway. Their acceptance rate is twenty three percent total. It’s even less for out of state applicants. Applicants who aren’t being given sports scholarships anyway. No offence Luke.”

“None taken. I’m sorry Reagan.”

“It’s okay. I applied to other schools.” I cleared my throat again. “I have to get to class.

“I’ll walk you.” Zach said. I nodded and took his hand in mine.

We stopped on the way when he pulled me aside into an empty classroom. “You didn’t mention that you heard back from UNC.”

“I know. I just… I needed some time to process. Can we talk about this later? I have a reading due at the beginning of class.”

“Sure. I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Of course.” I kissed him on the cheek. I sat through my classes in an almost daze. Monty sent me a couple of texts that made me smile. Zach also sent a couple of goofy pictures to try and cheer me up. My smile didn’t quite meet my eyes as much. I attributed it to being upset about the admission decision.

I met Zach at the doors to the cafeteria and he hugged me. I smiled sadly into his chest. I picked at my lunch silently. I could feel Monty and Zach’s eyes on me. They were watching both me and each other. No one else picked up on the tension. “Did you want to come over after school Zach? My parents are at work.”

“That works. I’ll let my mom know we are studying after school.”

“Studying each other?” Justin smirked. I rolled my eyes. Zach threw a piece of cheese at him.

“Fuck off.”

“Why do you throw food at each other?”

“It’s fun.” They shrugged.

“Alright then. I have a free period so I’m going to finish a project. I’ll see you guys later.” I leaned over and kissed Zach.

A few minutes after I sat down and pulled up my assignment, someone sat next to me. “So. You didn’t tell Zach?”

“No Monty.” I didn’t look up from my computer.

“You didn’t tell him you called me either, did you?”

“No. But I’m sure it will come up tonight when we talk.”

“You’ll let me know if everything is okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I have class so I’ll text you hot stuff.”

“You better.” I smirked.

Zach and I met each other at my place. My parents were at work and I think both of us knew this was going to become a fight, so I wasn’t surprised when he agreed to come over at lunch without a thought.. We danced around each other in silence. Neither of us knew how to react to the tension between us. With Montgomery it was easy. He would be in a mood or I would be upset about something, we would yell at each other for a while, and then… then it was fixed. I had never fought with Zach before.

“Why didn’t you tell me about UNC?”

“I told you. I needed time to process. To think. That was my top choice Zach. My plans literally changed overnight. That takes time to think through.”

“But I’m your boyfriend. I’m supposed to help you with that stuff. To be there for you.”

“I know. But I need to take time to process before I can deal, okay?”

“Right. Time to process. That’s why Monty knew?”

“How do you know he knew?”

“His reaction this morning. Plus, I heard him talking to Scott and Luke about it in class.”

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you, or are you mad I told Monty?”

“Both.”

“I don’t know why I told him okay?”

“No Reagan. Not okay.”

“I didn’t do it intentionally Zach. I just… dialed. I wasn’t even looking at my phone.”

“Is that supposed to make this better? That your instinct was to call your ex-boyfriend and not me?”

“No. I’m saying that I wasn’t even thinking clearly. All I knew was that in an instant my entire future was fading before my eyes.”

“So, you called Monty.”

“Yes Zach. I called him. I called him and he came. He dropped everything and he came to me.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“What. Happened. Reagan?”

“Nothing. I just cried. And cried. And then he left. I was upset.”

“Why couldn’t you call me?”

“Oh my god, Zach. I wasn’t thinking. I can’t explain to you why I called him and not you. I just picked a contact without looking and it was his.”

“Do you still love him?” His question caught me off guard. Do I?

“No.” My voice sounded sure. My brain and heart didn’t believe me. Hopefully Zach would.

“You don’t. Why do you still flirt with him?”

“I don’t love him. As for the flirting, that’s just how we talk to each other. We’ve always done it.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Noted.”  

Zach scoffed. “You flirt with your ex in front of me.”

“I don’t mean anything by it.”

“That doesn’t matter. Do you not think it’s weird that you’re still super close to your ex?”

“Not really, no. He is my friend. You can be friends with an ex, you know.”

“Most people can’t, actually.”

“So what? You’re mad that I’m friends with Monty?”

“I’m not mad Reagan. It’s just a lot to deal with.”

“Why?”

“Do you know how it feels to learn stuff about you, because your ex is talking about it? Or because you two are joking about something?”

“No. I guess I never really thought about it like that. It’s not that weird to us. But it does make sense.” I sat down on my couch. My adrenaline was leveling out again and I felt like an asshole.

“It doesn’t feel good.” He sat down next to me.

“I’m sorry Zach. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“I know.”

“I’ll talk to Monty about it. Tell him we need to stop the flirting and stuff.” Zach took my hand gently.

“Okay.” I rested my head on his shoulder and he pulled me into his lap. I was shocked that a fight had been resolved that easily and cleanly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Monty and I met at the docks to talk after Zach and I fought. “Hey.”

“Hey sweetheart.” I grimaced slightly.

“Zach and I talked.”

“Okay. How did it go?”

“He was pretty ticked off that you knew about UNC before he knew. And that you came over instead of him.”

“But I’m your friend.”

“And he is my boyfriend. Also, for the record, you aren’t just my friend Monty. You’re my ex.”

“So?”

“So, you aren’t just my friend.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because. The way you talk to me, it’s like we never broke up. You’re the one who said you wanted to break up. That you weren’t ready for a serious relationship. Or any relationship for that matter.”

“Is it you, or Zach that has a problem with it?” My silence spoke volumes. “I see. Well, you go tell your boyfriend that we talked.”

“Monty. I do feel bad about it. It’s not fair to Zach to have to deal with you flirting with me and making moves all the time.”

“You know, if I believed that you felt bad, or that you were honestly asking me to stop, I would. But I know you. I know this isn’t coming from you.”

“Montgomery. You need to stop. I’m asking you to stop.”

“Fine. I’ll cool it.”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask. Still friends?”

“Of course, Rea.” He hugged me tightly. I felt like I would let tight hugs slide because I liked them. We walked to our cars together quietly. I didn’t want to have to go or have things change, but I knew that if I wanted to stay with Zach, they would have to.

Monty was true to his word for all of three days. We were still friendly. The flirting had stopped though. There was still a buzz in the air when we interacted. It was easier to ignore now. At least, I thought it had stopped. I was painting my finger and toenails in the bathroom on Saturday night. It was my weekly self-care night. My phone rang before I could decide on a face mask to do while my nails dried. I smiled but rolled my eyes a bit when I saw who was calling. “Hi Monty.” I tried to sound annoyed but couldn’t keep the smile out of my voice.

“Hey Reagan.” He slurred slightly. I could hear the sound of boys falling and goofing off in the background. Bryce is having a thing, I guess.

“What’s up Buddy?”

“Jus’ guys night.”

“You don’t say.”

“You sound relaxed.”

“And you sound mighty drunk. It’s Saturday.”

“Right. Right. Girly night.” He chuckled.

“Yes. Is there a reason you called?”

“Wanted to say hi.”

“Oh.” I thought we had talked about this.

“I miss you.” He slurred. Oh boy.

“Uh. Miss you too.” I grimaced. He was drunk so I wasn’t going to just pretend I hadn’t heard him. Montgomery wouldn’t remember this in the morning.

“I’m an idiot.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“I am. I let you go.”

“Monty….”

“I love you.” My eyes widened. No. I felt the corners of my eyes begin to fill with tears. Looking up, I blinked them away. I didn’t know what to say.

“I-.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Monty.” I whispered. Why is this happening? We talked about this. At least he won’t remember this tomorrow. But I can’t just act like it didn’t happen.

“Buddy, get off the phone and come play.” Garrison called in the background.

“Gotta go.” Monty said before hanging up. What the actual fuck just happened?

I didn’t text Monty or Zach all day Sunday. I didn’t actually talk to or text anyone aside from my parents. I woke up on Monday dreading school. I just laid in bed and stared at my ceiling. I would see Zach and have to act like that phone call didn’t happen. And that Montgomery hadn’t said what he said. I would also see him. I don’t know if I can do that. He’s your friend. He was wasted when he called you. He won’t remember it. Taking a deep breath, I threw off the covers and got up. I stopped for a coffee on my way to school to try to calm my nerves, even though I was more of a tea person.

I walked into the school and as luck would have it, the first person I saw, was Montgomery freaking De la Cruz. Thank you, Universe. Instantly, I turned on my heel and walked out of the building before he could see me. Books weren’t important now. I had to avoid him. I power walked to the nearest exit and stopped by a large tree. Leaning against it, I took a deep breath and contemplated ditching school. That wasn’t going to be possible. Because the universe decided to say fuck Reagan today. Zach was walking towards me from the parking lot. He waved. I pretended I hadn’t seen it and ignored him. He stopped when he got to my tree. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Hey. Yeah. I’m okay.”

“You’re breathing kind of heavy. And leaning against a tree.”

“I’m fine Zach.”

“Okay.” He didn’t sound convinced. Before he could say anything more, I picked up my bag and brushed past him. I took the long way around to the back of the building to physics. I slumped in my seat and doodled through the whole class. I was doing well enough that the teacher wasn’t going to call on me.

I spent the next week avoiding Monty. I didn’t answer his texts. I took different routes to class. As far as I was concerned, he didn’t exist anymore. Except for the near constant string of text messages that I was getting from him. And his confession running over in my head any time I had a free moment to think. Why did he have to do that? I was getting on just fine. Zach and I were in a good place again. We agreed that we would just be friends. Fine. Fine. Fine.

I was also distant with Zach. I felt awful about it. You love him. He can say it to you sober. He loves you. If he saw me in the halls, he would come over and I would let him walk me to class. We would hold hands. My grip wasn’t as tight as usual. He would put his arm around me. I wouldn’t lean against him. I think he could tell something was off. Being Zach, he wouldn’t bring it up though. Since I was avoiding my two favourite jocks, I couldn’t exactly sit with Zach at lunch. I sat with Jess and Alex instead. Without Zach. They exchanged looks the first day but said nothing.

I went to the baseball game after school to support Zach. And to make it seem like nothing was wrong between him and I or Monty and I. I didn’t want people asking too many questions. Questions I didn’t want to answer. Monty’s drunken declaration had brought up feelings I had spent the better part of a year and a half, trying to bury. I was the one that wanted more from him. I was the one who needed more. When it was clear I wasn’t going to get more, I settled. And then when we broke up, I was comfortable in the fact that even though I loved him and I felt like he loved me, it would go unsaid and we could just be friends. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that was why we were so close and flirted with each other. While I wasn’t in love with him anymore, I still did love him. Even though I told Zach I wasn’t. Liar. You are still hopelessly in love with him. Maybe. But I can’t have him the way I want. And I love Zach. I just haven’t decided if I’m in love with him yet.

After the game, I waited to say bye to Zach and congratulate him on the win. “Congratulations 16. You won.” I smiled as he walked up to me. I was waiting at the bottom of the bleachers.

“Of course, we did. I had my biggest cheerleader in the stands.” He grinned. I couldn’t help but melt. Pushing away any and all thoughts of Montgomery’s phone call, I threw my arms around his neck and let him scoop me up into his arms as we kissed. My legs wrapped around his waist and his hands held my thighs.

“Get a room.” Bryce called out to us as he passed with some of the guys. The jocks cheered and whistled. I flipped them off and pulled away from the kiss.

“Two things. One, you don’t have girlfriends because you whistle at girls. We aren’t dogs. Two, fuck off.” I called back.

“I have a girlfriend.” Anders yelled.

“I know. She’s awesome. That’s two of twenty. Now shut up and leave us be assholes.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Zach let out a loud laugh when they walked away. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah. It kind of was. Sadly, I have to go work on a project. Walk me to my car?” I said as I jumped out down.

“Lead the way.”

I was working on my project when Monty called me. I sent it straight to voicemail. He called again. I let it ring out. He called back. This man just doesn’t quit. Again, I let it ring. He called a fourth time. Jesus. I answered it on the second to last ring. “What?”

“Woah. Who pissed in your tea today?”

“You called me four times in a row. What do you want Montgomery?”

“Well, I was calling to see why you have been ignoring me. But now I’m going to ask why you’re being such a bitch?”

“I’m busy. And you called me four times in a row.”

“Busy with what?”

“A project.”

“Okay. I’ll keep this quick then. Since a project is apparently more important than your best friend.” I didn’t respond. “Why have you been avoiding me, Reagan?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Bull. I haven’t seen or heard from you in almost a week. Are you mad at me or something?”

“No. I’ve been busy.”

“With Zach?”

“No. With stuff. I have a life outside of Zach Dempsey and you, you know.”

“Stuff. Okay. What stuff?”

“School stuff. Trying to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. Stuff.”

“Alright. I don’t believe you though. Did I do something wrong?” Yes. You did. Something very wrong. That you apparently can’t even remember. Meaning you didn’t have to just be drunk to say it. You had to be wasted.

“No. I’ve just been busy.” I sighed.

“We’re okay?”

“Yes Monty. We’re okay.”

“Okay good. Did you want to do lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Great. Rosie’s at one?”

“I’ll be there.” I threw my phone on my bed when I hung up. This man is infuriating. Why can’t I say no to him?

To no one’s surprise, Monty didn’t stop flirting with me. He made comments about my outfits or little things that he knew about me. It had finally driven Kyla away. I feared that Zach would be the next person he drove away. I didn’t fall into his trap anymore and let him bait me into flirting with him again. He tried hard. But I didn’t want to go back on my word to Zach. I couldn’t control what Monty did. But I could control how I reacted. So, any time Monty flirted with me, I ignored it. I pushed down the little flutter in my stomach and blush that threatened to creep up my neck. Zach would roll his eyes and smirk if he was around to watch the spectacle that had become Monty and my interactions. We both figured he would grow tired of not getting a response and quit eventually. I have no idea why. Montgomery De la Cruz never was one to back down from a challenge.

As the school year started heading towards its close, the big senior trip was coming up. Every year, the school sent the senior class on a trip. It was supposed to be educational and technically was fair game on any exams except our government finals when we got back. But really, it was to let us blow off some steam and get us into a different environment, so we were less likely to do a Senior Skip Day or senior prank. The only teachers who tested on it were the hard asses. This year we would be going to DC to “learn about the government and how our nation’s democracy runs.”

The senior class was abuzz with excitement about our trip to DC. It was fully paid for by the school due to it being a mandatory trip, aside from the few thousand we needed to fundraise for. It wasn’t cheer camp so people were more willing to donate for a bake sale, over Dollar Valentines. Typically, everyone shared rooms at the hotel. This year however, there was an uneven number of girls in the class. Meaning that one lucky girl, would get a whole room to herself for the week. To make it a fair draw, every grade twelve girl’s name was put into a raffle. A random teacher from the neighbouring school then pulled a name from the bunch, to keep it impartial. An email would be sent out to every girl, letting her know if she was picked.

I held my phone tightly all day on draw day. It was a week out from the day we were leaving. We weren’t told when the email would go out. Only that we would know by tonight. I hope it’s me. At dinner, my phone pringed. I shot up like I had been bitten.

“Reagan. You know the rules. No phones at dinner.” My mom scolded.

“But Mom. It’s draw day for the single room. I need to go check. Please? Thirty seconds. Promise.”

“Okay. Go check.” She waved me off. I ran to the counter and grabbed my phone. Opening the email, I read it intently. Reagan Taylor- Single room. I screeched in excitement.

“I got the single room! I got the single!”

“That’s wonderful honey. Now come finish your broccoli.” I quickly texted Zach. I got it. :) He replied while I was finishing dinner. That’s great. :)

I texted Monty after dinner as well. I got the single room. He replied while I was getting ready for bed.

Excellent. What better place for you and Dempsey to screw each other silly? Can’t wait to hear all the details.

You are such a creep.

You like it.

The Friday before we left, Zach came over after school to help me pack. My parents were having date night, so it was just the two of us for the foreseeable future. Ever the gentleman, he helped me carry my suitcase up from the storage room. The rose gold hard case set was laid out on my floor. I put Zach in charge of folding my clothes, since he was the self-proclaimed “master packer”. He pouted slightly when I said he couldn’t fold my underwear. I managed to sneak in a few more sexy sets as well. We would be gone for a week. A lot can happen in six nights.

“Do you like this shirt?” I asked him.

“It’s nice.”

“I could wear it to the Capital.”

“Yeah. Or dinner.”

“There’s going to be dinner, hmmm?”

He walked towards me and took the shirt from my hands. “There might be. There also might be a lot more than dinner.” Zach wrapped his arms around me.

“Oh really?”

“Mhmm. If you want more than dinner.”

“I do have a single room.”

“That you do. Bring the shirt.”

“Okay.” I felt a blush creeping all the way up to my ears.

After some more packing, we took a break. A very nice break. We were laying on my bed. The suitcase was still open in the corner of my room. Zach shifted so he was resting his head in his hand on his elbow. I looked up at him and grinned. He grinned back. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He leaned down and kissed me softly. I kissed him back and wrapped my arms around his neck. Zach smiled into the kiss and moved to climb on top of me. He straddled my waist so that I was on my back again. The more he kissed me, the more I wanted this to go further.

My hands left his neck and went to pull on his shirt. I was trying to pull it off without breaking our kiss. When it was halfway up his torso, he pulled away from the kiss and pulled the cotton over his head. I smiled demurely at him. He began kissing me again and our tongues did their playful dance. I moaned softly when he kissed my neck. He didn’t suck hard enough to leave any marks. I sat up to take off my shirt when he pulled it up my stomach. He kissed me once again and I carded my fingers through his hair. My breathing started to get heavier as his Zach’s hands explored my body. My hips bucked lightly. He unzipped my jeans and I wiggled them off. They were pushed to the end of the bed along with our shirts. I struggled with his belt a little. I wasn’t used to it yet. It still felt foreign under my fingers. Finally, I had removed it. I unzipped his jeans and Zach kicked them off. He moved his kisses down my chest, brushing over the top of my bra. I sighed. My hands moved to his to the front of his torso and I ran my fingers up and down his chest. The skin was smooth, but I felt goosebumps form where I touched. We were still in our underwear. This feel so… nice. Nice is good. So why does it feel like I have no clue what I’m doing?

We made out passionately. Our exploration of each other’s bodies continued. There was light teasing and nipping at spots. It felt good. Zach unhooked my bra and I pulled it off. It landed at the end of the bed with our other clothes. I gasped when he grew bolder and sucked a pebbling nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicked it a few times and I moaned his name. He used his other hand to roll and tease my other nipple. My hips couldn’t be stopped from bucking. I wanted more. I reached for his boxers. I was only able to brush his V-line. He pulled away from me.

“Did you want something?” He asked cheekily.

“Mhmm.” I moaned and reached for him again. My eyes were trained on the bulge in his boxers. They widened as he pulled them off and his cock sprang out. Reaching out, I grasped it in my hand. It felt hot and heavy. He moaned softly when I began stroking.

To make things easier and more comfortable, he rolled over so he was on his back. I sat up some and watched his face. Zach’s eyes were closed, and his brow was furrowed. He looked relaxed. I leaned down and kissed him. His fingers tangled into my hair as he deepened the kiss. My strokes became more confident and picked up speed. The quiet moans and grunts he was emitting were very encouraging. Soon enough, his hips were bucking. He sat up to stop me. I looked at him with dark eyes. He smiled at me and sat up, pushing me down on the soft mattress. Zach was gazing at me with the most kind and loving expression I had ever seen. My heart swelled.

I couldn’t wait any longer and reached to pull down my underwear. Zach pulled them down my legs and threw them towards the end of my bed. I got comfortable as he reached out for me. His fingers quickly found my core, and then my clit. My breath hitched when he rubbed it. He was gentle. I silently thanked him for that. Gathering some lubrication, he spent a little while trying different gestures and patterns as he ran his fingers through my core. There was some back-and-forth movement, as well as some up and down. It felt good but it wasn’t quite it. He tried circles and I moaned his name loudly. “That’s it. Do that. Do more of that.” My hips twisted. He leaned down to kiss me again while he rubbed me. Zach continued to rub my clit softly in circular motions. I moaned lowly as a finger entered me. It was slow and calculated. He continued to stimulate me for a few minutes, varying the speed and intensity of both his rubbing and thrusting. My hips wiggled in an attempt to get more stimulation.

Deciding I was aroused enough, he pulled away and looked at me questioningly. “There is a new box of condoms in my sock drawer.” He nodded and stood to grab one. Once the condom was properly and securely in place, he climbed back on top of me. I felt dwarfed by his large frame. He rubbed my clit and fingered me a few more times, before I felt his cock brush against my folds. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for him to enter me. I was expecting something quick. Like ripping off the band aid. Instead, he slowly pushed his way into my body. I groaned and my head rolled to the side. His breath hitched when he bottomed out.

“Shit.” He cursed in my ear.

After a few beats, he began to slowly thrust. I tried to match his slow, sweet pace. It just felt so different. Nice. Good. But still different. Zach started kissing up and down my neck again. I smiled and eventually, was able to match his thrusts. They began speeding up slightly and he intertwined his fingers with mine. I squeezed his hands. I closed my eyes when he kissed me. It almost felt like there was something missing. While I was trying to focus on the sensations coursing through my body, I realized that we weren’t just having sex. We were making love. I froze slightly but covered it by tensing up a little. I could feel my orgasm approaching anyway. I could tell it would be different than normal. I was both excited and a little scared.

As though Zach could sense my thoughts, he kissed me deeply and murmured against my lips, “let go.” His thrusts picked up speed and my hips stilled. I felt the knot in my stomach start to tighten and I clutched his shoulders. I moaned loudly as I felt the knot snap. My orgasm was different than it had been in the past. It was good, but it was less intense. There was no convulsing or extreme contortion. He continued to thrust, pulling me through my orgasm. My muscles relaxed and I slumped for a second. I could tell Zach’s high was in his reach. I began whispering dirty nothings in his ear and telling him that I loved him to try to get him to finish. I kissed his neck and nibbled softly. His thrusting became sloppy and he groaned loudly as he peaked.

With a laboured grunt, Zach rolled off of me and pulled me close to him. I closed my eyes for a second. Then I remembered I had to go to the bathroom. I rolled over and sat up slowly. When I returned to bed, Zach had discarded the condom and put on his boxers. I pulled his shirt on, along with a clean pair of underwear. Curling up in his arms, I rested my eyes for a while. “I love you.” I whispered as I drifted off.

“I love you too.” We woke up an hour later and finished packing, sneaking coy glances at each other.

Tuesday morning started unfairly early. We had to be at the airport by eight for our flight at ten. My alarm went off at five thirty. I protested as I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Slowly, I made my way to the bathroom to shower. I didn’t need to look super cute, but I at least wanted to smell good. It was a five-hour flight. I double checked that I had everything packed while my hair towel dried. My dad knocked on my door and I grunted at him. The shower had done little to wake me up. “Morning Kiddo. I’m just going to take your suitcase downstairs.”

“K.” I muttered.

Downstairs after I got dressed, I poured myself a very large cup of coffee. I didn’t really like sleeping on planes. Plus, I could get a tea after we got through security. My mom had offered to drive Zach and I to the airport, so I called him to make sure he was up. “Good morning Baby.”

“Good morning babe.” He sighed on the other end of the line.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Jut tired.”

“Me too. Mom just wanted to make sure you were up.”

“I am. Stuff is by the door and everything.”

“Oh good. See you in half an hour?”

“Okay. See you then. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I hung up and texted Monty to make sure he was up. Get up loser, we’re going to DC.

I’m up. And it’s too early for bending Mean Girls quotes.

It’s never too early. He replied with an eye roll emoji. I shook my head and didn’t answer.

“Reagan, are you ready to go?” My mom asked.

“Yeah.” I grabbed my backpack and rolled my suitcase out to the car. Dad lifted it into the back and checked that mom and I were securely buckled. Have to make sure my girls are safe. He had said when I asked him about doing that when I was younger. I still didn’t let him see the way I smiled about it.

Zach was waiting on his front steps for us. It was still early and May was still asleep. He waved and mom opened the back hatch for him. I looked in the rear view mirror and smirked at the way his muscles bulged when he lifted his suitcase into the car. He kissed me when he got in and greeted my mom. “Thanks for the ride Mrs. Taylor.”

“Of course, Zach.” She smiled at him from the driver’s seat. Once we got onto the highway, traffic was fairly light. It was still pretty early so we beat most of the commuters. It grew heavier as we got closer to the airport. None of us were surprised. Especially given that an entire high school senior class was descending upon it.

Mom parked in the drop off zone for the airline. Zach got out and walked around the car to open my door. He hugged me tightly as I stepped out. I breathed in the fresh scent of his cologne. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I looked up at him and grinned. Throwing on my backpack, I grabbed Zach’s while he got our suitcases. Inside, we met up with our friends. Clay was basically dragging Justin through the airport. Alex and Charlie both looked very awake for seven forty-five in the morning. Must be nice. I nodded at Monty and Scott from across the room. They were talking to Bryce and Luke.

Getting our tickets and going through security went shockingly well. Since we had so much time to kill, the teachers let us roam the gate freely. We had to swear left and right we would be on the plane. I abandoned Zach with Justin and Alex to go in search of a piping hot cup of tea. “Reagan.” Monty said as he approached me.

“Morning Monty. It’s tea time.”

“I need coffee. I’ll go with you.” We walked through the gate silently. I could feel his eyes on me. He was trying way too hard to seem like he wasn’t

staring at me.

“Can I help you?”

“There’s something different about you.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“You seem… less tense.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He stopped for a minute. “Wait. Did you two finally?” I blushed. “You did. Was it good?”

“Yeah.” I replied. It wasn’t a lie. It was good.

“Yeah? Better than us?” I turned to him, perplexed.

“Is that trick question? How do you want me to answer that?”

“Is that a no?” He smirked.

“No. It’s not an answer. Because it’s none of your business.”

“Alright, don’t tell me.”

Tea and coffee in hand, we walked back to the gate to sit until our plane boarded. The minutes ticked by. Zach was watching YouTube videos on his phone. I peeked over my book at him. He looked up and smiled. I felt eyes on us and turned to Monty. He was smirking at Zach. I rolled my eyes, mouthed piss off to him, and went back to my book. The flight to DC was pretty boring. I was able to sit with Zach and we watched a movie for the first half of it. Afterwards, I listened to some music and read while he slept.

We spent the first night in DC relaxing after a long flight. I enjoyed having a single room. It was quiet and I didn’t have to argue with anyone about what bed I would get. Jess came to do a face mask and have some girl time. It was nice. “So, tell me. What’s new with you and Zach.”

“There’s not much to tell.” I fibbed. She saw right through me.

“Oh, come on Reagan. There is totally something to spill.”

“We finally had sex.”

“No way!”

“Yeah.”

“How was it?” I hesitated. “Girl talk.” She smiled at me and I knew none of what I said would get back to Zach.

“It was nice.”

“And?”

“Good.”

“Nice and good?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the best you can come up with?”

“I don’t know Jessica. It was nice.”

“But it’s supposed to be more than nice.”

“I know. And it wasn’t bad. It was just….”

“No. Don’t even think that. We cleansed. Remember?”

“Okay Ryan Shaver.” I laughed.

“Still.”

“I know. It was just different is all.”

“I get that.” She sighed wistfully. I tried to scrub the mental image of Jessica and Justin going at it like jack rabbits. Ew. No no. Bad.

We toured the Smithsonian on Wednesday and went to the Capital on Thursday to see Congress. I stuck close to Zach the whole time. Monty continued his flirting. It was as though he really had no idea what he had said to me last month on the phone. I did my best to ignore it. But it was starting to get on my nerves. I could tell Zach was growing frustrated as well. While it got on my nerves, I was having a harder and harder time ignoring the butterflies in my stomach when Montgomery tried to charm his way to me. He could tell. I just hoped Zach couldn’t. Our interactions had been tense since last month.

Tensions between me and Monty come to a head in DC. It was Friday night, three days into our weeklong trip. I was coming back from an evening coffee run with Zach and Justin. Monty was milling about with Bryce and Luke outside. I tried to ignore the pang in my chest when I saw them. Monty caught my eye and subtly nodded at me. No one in either of our groups noticed. I pulled out my phone and texted him. My room. 10 mins. He waited until we were inside the hotel to read my message. There was no response. I assumed he got the message and made to excuse myself to my room. “That was really great guys. I’m actually pretty tired and I still have to fill in my trip journal for the day. I think I’m going to head up to my room.”

“Okay, night Reagan.” Justin nodded. He seemed slightly suspicious. I chalked it up to him having his own experience with bullshit excuses.

“Do you want me to walk you up?” Zach asked.

“No, don’t worry. You hang out with Justin. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Alright. Text me when you get upstairs. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I kissed him softly.

Upstairs, I threw my backpack on the unoccupied bed and threw my hair up. Since I would be getting ready for bed soon anyway, I brushed my teeth and changed into my pyjamas while I waited for Montgomery. I was putting my toiletries back in my suitcase when he knocked on my door sharply. He was standing on the other side of the door, his hands once again buried in his pockets when I opened it. “You rang.”

“Hi.” I moved out of the doorway and let him in.

“What did you want to talk about Reagan?”

“No one saw you come up here, did they?”

“No. they didn’t. Is that what you’re worried about? Someone knowing that I’m in your room?”

“Of course not. Its just….”

“Zach. You can say his name. I’m a big boy.”

“I told Zach that he didn’t have to worry about you and I.” Monty scoffed, bitterly.

“Yeah. Nothing to worry about with us. Sure.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“If I was in his place, I would worry too.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean Montgomery?”

“Last month, you told me that we aren’t just friends. And you weren’t wrong. Because people who are just friends don’t look for each other in crowds. Or stop when other people are talking about them. The thing you forgot to mention is how unfair you were being to both of us.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen it. And if I’ve seen it, so has Zach. He isn’t that oblivious.”

“Zach has a problem with our friendship.”

“Oh, so now you admit it. Least I got that out of you. Only took a month.”

“It makes him uncomfortable that we are so close. And I feel bad about it. I told you that already.”

“If you expect me to believe you care so much about how our friendship affects your boyfriend, then why did you call me about UNC as soon as you found out and not him? Why did you lie and cancel plans with him to spend time with me? Why is it that until a month ago, you flirted with just as much intensity as I did? Why did-.” I opened my mouth to stop him. “No. You don’t get to talk right now Reagan. It’s my turn to talk.” I closed my mouth and looked down. I was stunned and a little bit scared. He had never yelled at me like that before. “Why did you ask me to come get you when you got too drunk at a party on a college visit and not him? Even after you told me things had to change? Because I would love to hear you explain that.”

I was silent. I knew I couldn’t deny any of what he had said. We weren’t just friends. We didn’t know how to be friends. Or we never wanted to be. “Well?”

“I… you weren’t being fair to me either Monty. I’m not the only one at fault here. I wouldn’t have had to cancel on Zach if you hadn’t shown up to my house unannounced needing first aid. Again. You’re the one who started it with the flirting. As soon as you saw that I was moving on and could be happy with someone else, you fucking start flirting with me and talking to me like you had never stopped. Like you hadn’t broken my heart that day. And maybe I let it go on too long. Maybe I shouldn’t have reciprocated the flirting. But it made me feel good. And it was fun. Until it started having an impact on my actual relationship. With someone who is able to admit that he loves me. You want to stand here and talk to me about looking for someone in a crowd or stopping when people talk about them? What about when you drunk dialed me telling me that you love me? What about how anytime we are alone together you waste time leaving just so you don’t have to go? I’m not the only one at fault here. I asked you to stop flirting with me and you didn’t.”

“Is that phone call what did it?”

“I’m with someone who doesn’t have to be drunk to tell me that he loves me. And no. The call didn’t do anything. But it’s nice to know you remember it.”

“You want me to say it? I’m completely sober. You really want to hear me say it?”

“Yes.” I said loudly, exasperated.

“Easy. I love you.”

We were silent for a minute, finally aware of the tension in the air. I made the first move and kissed him. It was chaste at first. I was giving him a chance to take it back. When he didn’t pull away or stop it, I deepened the kiss. He wrapped his arms around me, picked me up, and placed me on the bed. His hands trailed down my body and played with the hem of my shirt. He sat on the bed beside me and pulled me on top of him. I straddled his waist and sat in his lap, slipping my hands under his t-shirt. When I traced his abs, he sucked in a breath. Everything with him felt so natural. So easy. I slipped my hands out from his shirt and pulled away from our kiss. He looked puzzled until I pulled off my shirt. I nodded at him and he pulled off his flannel. Next to go was his t-shirt. His pupils were blown. He was staring at me, not with hunger like I had expected, but in awe and admiration.

I kissed him again, but I quickly pulled away. I kissed down his neck, searching for the pulse point. We fell backwards in a mess of limbs and kisses on the plush hotel bed. His hands were on my hips instantly to steady me. I had found his pulse point and sucked at it harshly. There was sure to be a mark within the hour. I could feel him pulling at the waistband of my pyjama pants. “Yes.” I whispered in his ear. Monty pulled my bottoms down and off quickly. My underwear was still on and he snapped the waistband cheekily. “Bastard.” I said against his neck.

“You love it.” He moaned loudly when I bit his neck in response. I had to cover his mouth.

“Shhh. People could hear.”

“Screw people.”

With that, he flipped us over, so he was on top now. My hands went for his belt and I deftly undid it. My muscles still remembered the movements. The sound of the clinking metal as the hook hit the buckle. The way I had to tug a little harder to get it to come out of the loops because it stuck on the back one. Soon enough, his belt and jeans were strewn across the room along with the rest of our clothes. It was his turn to kiss me. He dragged his teeth against my bottom lip, pulling it slightly. I moaned lowly. His kisses traveled down my neck quickly. He always did prefer to leave marks on my collarbones and breasts. My neck was still fair game to him and he often left at least one mark on it at any given time. Just like he had so many times before so long ago, he left a clear bite mark on my décolleté. His attention was turned to my breasts then. He deftly unhooked my bra and pulled it off. It joined the ever-growing pile of clothes flung across the room.

The marks he left on my breasts were small in comparison to the one I had left on his neck. He is probably trying to hide them. I too, moaned loudly when he nipped my skin. He covered my mouth like I had done to him only moments before. The difference was that I grabbed his wrist in my hands like I was trying to hold onto him for dear life. I heard him chuckle and felt the stupid smirk against my chest. “Shhh. People could hear.” He mocked.

“Screw people.” He uncovered my mouth and pulled away for a moment. I gazed at him wantonly. I realized what he wanted a second later when he tried to both push and pull me further up the bed. Taking the hint, I shimmied my way up, so we had more room. Falling off the bed would certainly raise suspicion about what was happening in here.

Montgomery continued his journey down my body to my underwear. He stopped to place a gentle kiss to each of my hips. “Think you can keep quiet Kitten?” I melted at the nickname. I hadn’t heard it in so long.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He pulled at the waistband of my underwear and they landed on the floor beside the bed. I sighed as he placed kisses to my pubic mound and my upper and inner thighs. Reaching down, I placed my hand on his hair. It felt so soft. Suddenly, he placed a kiss to my clit and my hips bucked. My fingers curled in his hair slightly. I moaned again, quietly this time, when he began to lap at my folds. My fingers curled in his hair more still. I couldn’t stop myself from tugging slightly. When he focused on sucking my clit I pulled on his hair. He moaned against my core and my body shook. When he added a finger or two to the mix, I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. I had been secretly imagining this moment for the better part of a year. This felt so much better than I could have ever imagined. My orgasm began to build quickly. My walls started to flutter. Monty chuckled. He was well versed in my body’s reactions to stimuli. We both knew what was coming. His fingers thrust faster, and he stopped sucking my clit. Instead, he rubbed my clit harshly. I had to cover my mouth to keep from moaning too loudly. And then everything was bright and light for a second. I felt a, thankfully given our location, small trickle of liquid spill its way out of me. Monty gently slowed, and then stopped his thrusting and rubbing. I was panting and trying to catch my breath.

“Just give me a second.”

“Of course. Take your time.”

I looked down at him as he climbed up the bed. He settled beside me and reached down to palm at his hard dick. Once I had caught my breath, I shoved his hands out of the way and took over the palming. “You are so evil.” He grumbled.

“You love it.” I slipped my hand under the band of his boxer briefs. I hadn’t even touched his dick and he was bucking his hips already. He gasped when I brushed his dick with my fingertips lightly. I grasped it in my hand and stoked it. My movements were stilted by his underwear. After I took them off and dropped them next to my own underwear, there was much more real estate to work with. My hand was back to stroking right away. I was mostly just trying to bide time getting my energy back.

A little longer and my energy was back up to useful levels. So, I straddled his waist again and leaned in to kiss him. I wasn’t as conscious of my nakedness as I normally was. Our kiss was heated but I managed to pull away somehow. The trailing kisses down his chest made his breathing heavy. When I reached his cock, I licked a stripe from base to tip. I felt him tug at my ponytail holder. “I will never understand how this works.” I chuckled and reached up to pull my hair down. It fell in a cascade around my face. I tucked some behind my ear and repeated the same lick. The groan and hand that was winding its way in my hair told me all I needed to know. I smiled to myself before taking his cock in my mouth. I sucked slowly at first. I needed to take a few minutes to get used to the feeling. He removed his hand from my hair then, letting me do my thing. He put it back when I started to take more and more into my mouth and throat. I sighed softly when I managed to take it all. That last half inch was always iffy. His hand was wrapped up in my hair and holding it away from my face. I was surprised that he remembered not to tug when I started bobbing my head. Or maybe that wouldn’t be something a guy would forget. His hand traveled down to the base of my hair and rested against my skull. He started to buck his hips and I gagged slightly. Focusing on breathing through my nose, I kept my pace up. I knew he was holding back. I moaned around his cock and he cursed under his breath. I didn’t quite catch it. I stopped sucking to take a big breath of air.

Before I could resume my actions, Monty tugged on my hair. I looked up at him. There’s the hunger. He tugged on my hair again. He was trying to pull me up towards him without hurting me or being too demanding about it. I crawled forward towards the headboard. Kissing him again was the easiest choice I made this trip. I got lost in the feeling of his lips on mine and his tongue fighting mine for dominance. He took advantage of my distraction and rolled us over again. He always did like to be on top. “Do you have a condom anywhere?” he asked between kisses.

“I slipped one in the nightstand beside the Bible.” I breathed.

“You would put it beside the Bible.” He sat up and reached into the drawer, pulling out the blue foil packet. Once the condom was in place and the foil was discarded, he kissed me again. He was still kissing me when he adjusted our positions so he could enter me. My neck had always been a favourite spot to kiss. I gasped when I felt his cock enter me. It felt amazing. My body knew what to do instinctively as soon as he began thrusting. My hips were quickly able to match his pace. I gripped his biceps tightly, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t dreaming.

As his pace quickened, mine stilled. I was watching him. His brow was furrowed, focusing on this moment. I was pretty sure both of us weren’t sure if it would ever happen again. I reached up and brushed some hair that had fallen into his face away. Montgomery hit a particularly sensitive spot and my hand fell to his shoulder, squeezing and digging my nails into the skin. I moaned loudly and he kissed me to muffle it. “Shhh.” He cooed against my mouth. I whimpered. I felt my orgasm building again. It was coming on fast. My hips started to move on their own accord again. His thrusts started to falter, and I mewled. We were both on a rollercoaster that was speeding up to a stomach dropping fall. I covered my mouth so no one could hear the scream trying to jump from my throat. My eyes screwed shut tightly and my eyes rolled back in my head. The white light was so bright. As soon as my orgasm began to hit, so did Monty’s.

He pulled out of me quickly and discarded the used condom. All but falling over me, he rolled onto his back. We were both breathless. I was gasping for air. He was panting heavily. I rolled over onto my side, for some reason shy to cuddle up against him. It seemed silly to be concerned about that after what we had just done. But it felt like crossing a line. “Come here.” Monty pulled me closer to him.

“Are you sure we should be doing this? It doesn’t cross a line?”

“Reagan. We just had arguably the best sex of our lives and I told you I love you. I think we are way past being concerned about crossing lines.” I sighed, realizing he was probably right. Might as well get comfortable. “You need to go pee first.” I sighed again and excused myself. Back in bed, I curled up beside him again.

“We had to go and make everything complicated.”

“When has anything about us not been complicated?”

“I guess you’re right. Will you stay?” He checked his watch and thought for a minute.

“I can stay for a while if you want me to.”

“Yes please.”

I woke up the next morning alone with the blankets tucked around me tightly. There was a note on the pillow next to me written in Montgomery’s messy scrawl. I’ll be waiting. Remember that. I love you. I set the note in my lap and rubbed my face. I should check my phone. See if I missed anything important. Zach had texted me to say good night the night before, while I was… otherwise engaged. There was a text from Justin asking if I needed to talk. And Scott. He wanted to know if I knew where Monty was last night. Oh god. I forgot they were sharing a room. Oh shit. I need to face Zach now. Deciding it would be best to get it over with as soon as possible, I dragged my butt out of bed. I tucked Monty’s note in my suitcase while I got dressed.

When I looked in the mirror and saw the marks on my chest and neck, I rolled my eyes. I packed a heavy-duty concealer for my under eyes. I wasn’t planning on using it to cover hickeys that my ex-boyfriend left on me. Blending and layering took longer than expected but it was early enough that I was still done at a reasonable time. I had to leave my hair down though. Throwing on a pair of sneakers, I made my way to Zach and Justin’s room. I paused for a second when I passed Montgomery’s room. I shook my head. You can’t. Not while Zach is still a factor in the equation. I knocked on Zach’s door and he opened it shirtless. My eyes trailed down his body. I couldn’t stop the memories of last night from flooding back. “Good morning beautiful.”

“Morning Zachy. Can I come in?”

“Yeah. I’m just about ready.” I nodded and went to sit on his bed. Thankfully I wasn’t walking funny. When he was ready, we went downstairs hand in hand.

Monty was talking to Scott in the hotel lobby. I was shocked to see him awake and dressed at this time. The man likes his sleep. And we didn’t exactly get much last night. “Morning Scott. Monty.” Zach stopped to talk as we passed. I couldn’t look Monty in the eye.

“Morning lovebirds.” Scott replied.

“Zach. Reagan.”

“Morning.”

“No tea yet?”

“No.”

“I see. Long night?” I could hear the smirk in Monty’s voice. I hate you.

“I stayed up watching tv.” Zach began making small talk with the boys but I didn’t contribute anymore. I just wanted to get out of there and be alone with my boyfriend. Part of me hoped I could forget that last night ever happened. That didn’t stop me from thinking about it though. The longer they talked, the more I thought about it.

“Babe let’s go. Brunch is waiting.” I urged him to stop talking to Monty and Scott. Please don’t invite them.

“It’s not even eleven Rea. I don’t think it counts as brunch yet.” Scott laughed.

“Okay, then breakfast is waiting. Either way, I’m hungry and food that is far too calories dense to be considered a proper morning meal is waiting.”

“Did you guys want to come with?” My eyes widened. Did he just…? He did not just invite them with us.

“Uh.” Monty cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want to invite me?”

“Yeah. I mean, you and Reagan are friends. I’m going to have to get used to it somehow.”

“Why don’t we ask Reagan?” Monty turned and looked at me, raising an inquisitive brow.

“Um. I- uh.” I looked down, blushing. “I was kind of hoping we could go… just the two of us?” I asked Zach, raising my voice a couple of octaves.

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought…,” he paused and took my hand again, “of course we can go just us. I was just trying to be nice and make an effort.” He was looking at me so kindly that I had to look away. “Sorry guys.”

“Nah, no worries. Gotta get time with your girl.” Scott waved it off. He shot Monty a look that I didn’t like. It made me feel uneasy. Does he know? Before I could think too much into it, Zach was leading me outside.

Brunch was delicious. Zach was his usual slightly oblivious but in a cute way self. If he had any idea something was wrong, he didn’t let on. On our way back, we stopped to sit and look at the White House from a distance. “Why did you invite Monty and Scott to have brunch with us?”

“Well, I didn’t realize you wanted to go just the two of us.”

“That’s not what I meant. You don’t like Monty. So why invite him to hang out?”

“He’s your friend. As much as I don’t like it and I don’t like how he talks to you, he’s important to you. So, I’m willing to try to be nice to him.” Oh. Well now I feel like even more of an asshole.

“That… That’s really nice of you Zachy. Thank you.”

“No problem. What do you say we head back and watch a movie in your room?” He kissed my temple and stood, holding his hand out to me.

“My room? Could we maybe go back to yours? Mine is kind of messy. I had some trouble finding something to wear this morning.”

“Okay. I don’t think Justin is holing himself up in there today.”

Scott caught us when we got back to the hotel. “Hey! Can I steal Reagan for a few minutes? I need to ask her something about an assignment in Spanish.”

“Sure. We were just going to watch a movie.”

“O-okay.” I waved to Zach and trailed behind Scott to his and Monty’s shared room. “I’m hopeless at Spanish and you know it. What is this about?” Please tell me he doesn’t know.

“Are you going to tell Zach about last night?” Fuck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s crap. Are you going to tell him, or not? Because he deserves to know.”

“How do you know about it?”

“Monty didn’t come in until like two or three this morning. I hadn’t seen him for hours before that. When I saw him this morning, and the calling card you left on his neck, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. The concealer on your neck just confirmed my suspicions. Just be thankful Zach is too oblivious to notice it.” I sighed, knowing he was right.

“I will. Just… not while we are still here. I don’t want to ruin anything. More than it already is anyway. Plus no one wants to deal with anyone getting arrested on a school trip.”

“Okay.”

“Is that all?” I turned to leave.

“Yeah. Actually, one more thing?” I stopped just short of the door. “Monty really does love you. And anyone with half a brain cell can see that you still love him. So, you deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks Scott.”

I spent the rest of the trip trying to avoid Montgomery and hold my tongue around Zach. I slept almost the whole flight back to California. School the next day dragged on. It continued to drag on for the next two weeks. Senioritis had set in hard now that we were done the D.C. trip. No one wanted to be there. We were graduating in a month. Most of us were going off to college. The last few weeks of school were basically pointless anyways. Even our teachers didn’t care as much. It was hard, but I managed to stay pretty cordial with Monty. I kept up appearances that everything was fine for most of the two weeks following the trip with Zach. On Friday I woke up and decided that it was time. I had to end things. I had to be fair to him. I had to take a chance and see if Monty and I could make things work this time. I texted Zach on my way to school. Meet me at the docks after school? The water is beautiful this time of year.

Sure.

I sat in my car for ten minutes after I arrived, trying to talk myself out of talking myself out of doing this. Zach wasn’t here yet so I got out of the car and walked around, trying to find a secluded bench where we could talk in private. I found the perfect one under a tree in the shade. It had an amazing view of the water. I snapped a selfie and sent it to him. Come and find me.

Zach snuck up and slid into the spot next to me. I jumped slightly. “Hey beautiful.”

“Hey.”

“I missed you today.”

“Yeah, I had some stuff to do. You know, last minute projects and final touches on assignments.”

“I know.” We sat quietly for a bit, just admiring the view. “You’re right. The water is beautiful this time of year.”

“Yeah.” I picked at my nails nervously. Just do it. “Listen, Zach….” I started.

“Yes?” He took my hand in his. I stared down at it.

“I- I think that…,” I paused. “I think that we need to break up.”

“What? Why?”

“I think it would be the best thing for us Zach.”

“Do you not love me anymore?”

“What? No, of course I do. It’s just… things are changing so fast.”

“Then why?”

“We are both going away to school next year and it will be too hard. I don’t want you to be tied down to someone on the other side or halfway across the country.”

“How do you know it will be too hard, Reagan?”

“Because. I’ve seen people try to make it work. We are eighteen Zach. We have our whole lives ahead of us. College is supposed to be the time where we experiment and make mistakes. To drink too many mixed drinks and wake up in someone else’s bed. I want you to experience that. And you can’t do that if you aren’t single.”

“We don’t leave for school for another two months at least though.”

“I don’t want us to wait until a week before we leave to decide that going into college single is the best choice.” Zach was silent for a while. I felt so bad. It needed to be done though.

“I guess you’re right.”  I smiled sadly at him. “You’ll always be special to me, you know that?”

“I know. You’ll always be special to me too.” I squeezed his hand and he kissed me softly for the last time. Knowing he would need time to sit and process, I was the one who stood and left him on the bench.

In my car before driving away from the docks and Zach, I sent a text message. Four words. Eleven letters. I hoped he would know what it meant. I love you too. The weight of hitting send was unimaginable. I had spent so long denying it, that I didn’t know how to feel about it. I guess I would just have to wait and see what the future held.

[welllpthisishappening]

Emma Swan, Olympian is not a phrase Emma Swan, totally normal person, ever expected to hear.

But she never expected one night at a party hosted by her college's baseball team to change her entire life, either. So, it should really come as no surprise that Emma Swan, Olympian, is now something of international sensation. Or that her husband has become a bit of a social media star.

——— Rating: Teen with sports feelings Word Count: 7.5K AN: As promised and because of who I am as a person, I wrote Olympic fic. I can neither confirm nor deny that there is an actual plot here, but there is a surplus of fluff and sports-based feelings. So, that’s something. Thanks to the Detroit Lions, specifically, for posting this Tweet and to my husband who is very much aware of what content I want the internet to provide me. Operation: Make Killian a New York Yankee as often as possible continues.

|| Read on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

———

No one told her the questions would start to blur together.

That would require media training, Emma imagines. And no one is giving a first-time Olympian in a sport that only a handful of people marginally believe warrants notice from the IOC any sort of media training. She got, like, an orientation packet. With a lopsided staple in the top left corner. On her commercial flight. That she booked herself.

Twenty-plus hours crammed into a seat that she’s only a little concerned did permanent damage to her right knee, with a meal that was so chewy Emma was about four seconds and one exasperated, entirely exhausted exhale from asking if it was, in fact, made of plastic.

Mostly, the staple is what’s still managing to frustrate her. As frustrated as she can be at the Olympics. No one is supposed to be frustrated at the Olympics. Not really. Not while experiencing the pinnacle of athletic achievement, the calluses on Emma’s fingertips some sort of badge of honor that she’s wearing with at least a modicum of national pride, and everything is fine.

Her qualifying time was absurd. Where absurd is a compliment and very close to a record she’s suddenly determined to shatter.

So, she’s alone.

Big deal. So is everyone else. This Olympics, at least. Plus, Killian wouldn’t have been able to come no matter what the state of the world was. Even so, the quiet stands are admittedly weird. All these empty arenas with empty seats, the distinct lack of a roaring crowd no more obvious than when the world’s best athletes step to the line. Staring at the climbing wall in front of her four hours earlier, Emma swore she could hear every single beat of her heart echo between her ears.

And that’s—well, solitude is par for the course with an adolescence like hers, half-filled suitcases and brand-new faces in brand-new towns, but she’d gotten used to one town, and the town is actually a city, and the city has long since felt like home, and her fingers reach for the rings dangling above her Team USA t-shirt. They did give her an absolute shit ton of t-shirts, so that was nice.

Except—

Something keeps tugging. Nagging at the back of Emma’s consciousness, almost like she’s forgotten her keys on that flea market table they found in Park Slope two weeks after they moved into the apartment. Because for as well-versed Emma may be in that singular sort of existence, she’s also well-removed from wanting it, and at least three of her knuckles crack. Curling around her rings.

Muscles in her cheeks stretch, another nod and quick blink to avoid the threat of blinding via camera flashes. Someone really should have told her about this. She probably should have assumed. Human interest is the driving force of at least three-quarters of the stories in sports, and Emma’s not used to being the story, per se, but even she has to admit most of hers makes for a good one and they are still asking her questions.

Emma blinks again. Hopes she doesn’t look like a serial killer or the weird blonde, slightly sweaty cousin of the Joker, her smile starting to feel as if it’s painted on her face. She nods. Hums. Listens to questions that are startling in their tonal similarity to Charlie Brown’s teacher, and Emma wonders if Charlie Brown ever got a different teacher or what the school structure of the Peanuts’ universe is and, God, how old was Charlie Brown, even? To withstand that sort of consistent bullying. Was Linus the same age as him? No, right? How long did he carry the blanket around? Was Linus the same age as Sally? Why didn’t the red-headed girl with curly hair get a name?

She nearly falls out of her chair.

That might make the front page of several blogs. Possibly even the back page of a New York tab.

Careful to keep her feet on the ground, Emma lifts her head, directing her eyes toward the source of a question that must have been asked several times if the note of amusement mixing with deadline-based exasperation is anything to go by. Her smile definitely makes her look like a serial killer.

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma mumbles, and none of the oxygen she does her best to inhales makes it even close to her lungs. “I, uh—what was the question?”

The reporter grimaces.

“I wanted to know if you’d seen the video of your husband yet.”

Ice runs down her spine. Every single drop of wholly disgusting sweat falling in rivulets down either one of her cheeks freezes. Oxygen disappears from the room. Or so Emma assumes, what with the crushing feeling pushing down on her lungs and whatnot.

Her mind whirs. Races through possibilities and pitfalls with a speed that would be impressive if Emma weren’t already so close to that record, and she is going to break that record. Somehow she manages not to fall, though. From her chair or the metaphorical climbing wall in her brain, ignoring the sudden dryness of her mouth and the increasing size of her tongue.

Her nails are going to leave little half-moon creases in her palm.

“I don’t—” she starts, and eventually she will wish she was more articulate. For what turns out to be a very nice story.

Standing up, the reporter’s seat creaks as she moves toward the desk they deposited Emma behind after even. Several Olympic officials move to block her, but Emma shakes her head again, and she’s not exactly high-priority on the list of defensible athletes, anyway. So, none of them flinch when the reporter slides a phone closer to Emma, her crazed thoughts briefly lingering on how many phones a reporter could possibly need, but then her eyes drop, and she’s not sure if her ears can actually perk, but Emma certainly tries because she hears him yelling before she sees him.

Her smile shifts.

And the cameras flash again.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s collegiate life, because Anna demands it.

She’s only half-listening, so Emma can never be entirely sure what it was, exactly, she was agreeing to, but in her experience, the agreement doesn’t matter so much as the action, and her roommate’s younger sister is unstoppable when it comes to action. So, Emma is dimly aware of a plan. Something about the baseball house and that one left fielder is in a handful of her classes.

David—something.

He’s got a girlfriend, too. A nice one. Who always smells like sugar when she slides into the seat next to David whatever his last name is, sitting in the row in front of Emma during their Tuesday-Thursday statistics class.

Emma hates statistics.

She doesn’t hate Anna, though. Or her roommate, one of the better college-based surprises, and either Anna has magic or Elsa is an enormous pushover because somehow all three of them are ready at the same time, and the walk to the baseball house isn’t far.

First-year players guard the door — passing out color-coded wristbands that absolutely do not do their job because it takes about six seconds of well-meaning flirting and batted eyelashes between Anna and a mountain of muscle masquerading as the team’s starting catcher to get them inside. With purple wristbands and two tickets for jungle juice instead of the keg.

“Victory,” Anna cries, twisting through the crowd. Half of it is already teetering on the edge of drunk, the rest free-falling into the pit of imminent hangovers, and Emma isn’t sure she’d classify their drinks as a victory, but it’s definitely better than watered-down beer.

And it doesn’t take long, really. By Emma’s shaky count, it’s not even a half-hour before the muscle — who introduces himself as Kristoff, and really is pretty cute, actually — returns, standing unnaturally close to Anna’s left shoulder, furtive glances shared out of the corners of their eyes. Emma rolls hers. Elsa’s appear perpetually stuck to the ceiling. It looks oddly sticky up there.

“Go,” Elsa says, and it’s not an instruction. Barely counts as more than a whisper, really. Anna lights up all the same. Like an alcohol-fueled Christmas tree.

Who does not need telling more than once.

Hands reach and smiles widen, Kristoff mumbling something that sounds like it was nice to meet you before he’s following Anna back to the beer pong table, leaving Elsa and Emma standing in the middle of a sea of raging hormones. All of which want to be there way more than either one of them does.

“Well,” Elsa mutters, “that was polite.”

Emma snickers into her glass. A mostly empty glass. That’s surprising. “Got that going for him.” “Plus, his on-base is nuts this year.”

“Say that again.” “On-base percentage,” Elsa repeats, making sure to do it slowly for maximum sarcastic emphasis. Emma’s eyes are going to fall out. That won’t end well. There are too many shuffling feet in this room.

“What does that mean?” “How often he gets on base.” Opening her mouth does nothing. Closing it does even less. Elsa looks overjoyed. “I know things,” she shrugs, “and I’m pretty positive Anna and Kristoff have been not-so-secretly dating since the start of the semester, so—” “You stalked your sister’s secret boyfriend?” “Stalk’s a very dirty word, don’t you think? No, no, there was no stalking. There was light research. One Google search and a single click to the team’s roster, and now I know he’s from Minnesota, too.” “Awfully convenient for the romance of the century.” Humming, Elsa takes a larger-than-usual sip before scrunching her nose in displeasure. At her empty cup. Emma has no idea how they ended up with empty cups so quickly. Suddenly the baseball house feels a bit like a time warp. Enter and drink and find the love of your life. Or something like that.

“I got next,” Emma says, ignoring Elsa’s laugh because she is not the sort of person who says things like that. It’s this house. This place. With its music and its happiness, and she’s not really a sports person. Can only marginally understand the joy of watching other people accomplish something. She has no idea what on-base percentage is.

Still.

Her feet move. Fingers curl over the rim of red solo cups, like the most cliché version of her college self. Her drinks get refilled. And it’s just as Emma’s about to let herself wonder if, maybe, sports aren’t all that bad and might even possess a bit of inherent romanticism, she slams into something.

Someone, more like.

Taller than her, he has to peer down his nose to glare at Emma. That’s fair. They’re both far more damp than they were ten seconds before. Some of that moisture ensures that the hem of his shirt sticks to his stomach. A very flat stomach. That draws Emma’s eyes because she’s human and slightly intoxicated, and it takes quite a lot more than she’s willing to admit to lift her chin, but then she’s glad she does. Even with the understandable glare.

“Shit,” she breathes, “your eyes are stupid blue.”

He narrows them. She hates that. Which is about all it takes for her to get royally pissed off, too.

“Can you pay attention to where you’re walking?”

The stupidly blue eyes blink. Darken a shade, like all his frustration is centered directly around his pupils, and the shirt he’s wearing is team-branded. Another baseball player, then.

“You ran into me!” Oh, Oh. Well, that sucks. He’s got a good voice, too. Eyes and voice and the few strands of hair that fall toward those eyes when he continues to glare at Emma likely aren’t supposed to make her stomach flip.

It’s the alcohol’s fault.

Or sports. Like, in general.

“Because you take up so much space,” Emma snarls He leans forward. Looms, really. Over her and around her, smelling like punch and body wash. It’s gross and absolutely wonderful. “Gotta pick a lane, love. Either I ran into you, or I was in the way.”

“It can definitely be both and there is nothing resembling love here.”

“So I can see. You have a name, wrecking ball?” “My shoes are never going to unstick from this floor.” To his credit, he does waver. His lips twist — which makes it all too obvious how much Emma is staring at his lips, but, seriously, the alcohol. Plus, it’s so hot in this house she can barely think straight. She wonders where he buys his body wash. He smells better than he should in this house. So, it's clear he considers. Ponders, even. Until his hands dart out and those hands are somehow warmer than every person in this house combined, heat scorching through Emma’s t-shirt as he lifts her off the ground.

Only to deposit her approximately fourteen inches to her left.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” “Look,” he grins, “you’re unstuck.” “Bastard!” “Eh, not technically.” “What?” “Not technically a bastard. Orphan, I suppose. But that’s kind of a mood ruiner, don’t you think?”

Emma’s fish impression is really going great. The grin becomes a smirk. Her stomach refuses to stay still. “Is there a mood to ruin?” “Might be if you tell me your name.”

Emma wavers, that time. Considers and ponders. Weighs the pros and cons while laughter drifts past her ears, consummate collegiate experiences that she’s only ever let herself be passably jealous of. A dark-haired girl’s talking to Elsa in the opposite corner.

And the hand hanging in front of her wiggles its fingers.

It’s still ridiculously warm when she grabs it. “Emma Swan.” “Killian Jones.”

Anna’s secret relationship becomes a real relationship no less than sixteen hours following what Elsa begins to call the Drink Incident.

And they become—

Baseball people.

Becoming baseball people is not bad. Not really. Emma likes the baseball team. She understands what WHIP is, now. Kristoff adores Anna, so that’s good. David, who does, in fact, have a last name, continues to be as nice as assumed, and his girlfriend sort of quasi adopts Emma. Mary Margaret Blanchard brims with positivity and an innate sort of joy that would usually annoy Emma, but most of that joy also serves as a direct counter to the snark that Killian Jones appears flush with. So, it’s something of a wash, really.

Plus, he’s a very sore Monopoly loser.

And Emma finds it endlessly entertaining.

“Stop that,” he grunts, glaring at the board with the sort of force Emma’s become accustomed to in the last few months, while she taps on the space in front of her, “I know how many spots it is.” Emma smiles. “So move, then.” “I’ll be bankrupt.” “Capitalism does that.” “Tell me more about capitalism, Swan.”

She doesn’t startle, so there’s that. Not much else, though. Not when a noticeable bit of equally familiar heat skitters down her spine. Her head tilts. His head remains frustratingly still, staring at the board like the spaces will change or Mary Margaret will tear down some of her hotels on Marvin Gardens.

Neither thing happens.

The heat pools. At the small of her back, inching dangerously close to that space between her hips, like it’s trying to tether her to this spot and this moment and its people. Baseball people. People who so clearly care about everything so much that even the cynic in Emma can appreciate it. Plus, they’re all ridiculously competitive.

David had to take a walk when Mary Margaret bankrupt him earlier.

“That’s about the extent of my capitalism knowledge,” Emma admits with a shrug, “I sucked at economics.” Pulling his gaze away from the board, Emma’s less prepared for the force behind Killian’s eyes than she was for the appearance of a nickname that might not warrant the title. It’s just her name, after all. But it sounds like more than that. Sinks under her skin with alarming ease, the precise tone of it wrapping its way around a variety of internal organs until they’re all beating at the same tempo and— “Move my piece for me.”

Kristoff groans. Mary Margaret chuckles. Elsa looks far too sure of herself. Knows everything, indeed.

And it’s not really a command, but there’s that same sense of something that found its way into the sound of Emma’s name and Killian’s voice, and he catches her by surprise. On a variety of levels. His fingers jump the moment hers reach out, all heat and an alarming size difference, his brows lifting when she turns her head.

“You’re taking this game way too seriously, you know,” Emma says. What she doesn’t say is more important, though. Because they’re not friends, really. They’re—acquaintances. Some kind of appropriate metaphor regarding a planet’s many moons and the tendency of those moons to orbit something far bigger than them. But they like each other, too. As much as they dance and twist, do their best to avoid getting hit in the batter’s box, Emma’s more comfortable bantering with him than just about anyone she’s ever met, a challenge in every conversation, and she’s rather loath to realize she’s memorized the different ways the blue in his eyes flash.

Now it feels a bit like a spotlight.

“Matter of pride, Swan.” “Is it just?” If there are other people laying on their stomachs in that living room, half-empty glasses by their hands and equipment stacked in various corners, Emma forgets about them. Quickly. Immediately. Killian doesn’t move his fingers.

He nods.

And Mary Marget only kind of gloats when she bankrupts him.

She dances when she wins, though.

It’s embarrassing. It’s absolutely, goddamn wonderful.

Realizing that baseball is a game of statistics ruins kind of Emma’s day. It makes Killian laugh. Her favorite sort of laugh. Where he throws his head back, an arm around his middle, and his shoulders shaking. Those same strands of hair she noticed that first night fall back toward lidded eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting in an angle Emma is sure she could determine if she just didn’t hate math so much, and it takes about four seconds, her head tilting back and forth twice and one swipe of her tongue to lean forward on the couch they're sharing, tilt her head up and press her lips to his.

Press is a vast understatement.

Crash, more like.

A bases-clearing double into the left-field gap.

She knows so many baseball terms now, it’s ridiculous.

It’s because she keeps going to games. With Anna. Without Anna. With Elsa. Without Elsa. With Mary Margaret every single time. And it creeps on so slowly, she’s practically a Jane Austen heroine, but then Emma finds she cares as much as everyone else. Screams herself hoarse at every crack of the bat. Jumps and fist bumps with startling regularity. Experiences the flutter of butterflies in her flip-prone stomach before ninth-inning rallies.

She memorizes statistics. Killian’s statistics, especially.

Because the Draft is a week away, and the nerves rolling off him are even more potent than his body wash. Bought in bulk from a locally-owned company, she learns.

Killian hates capitalism, too.

Which is only part of the reason she likes him, but right now all of the reason is centered around how it feels as if the world is shifting on its axis and what, precisely, he is capable of with his tongue. Quite a lot if this first time at bat is anything to believe.

Emma laughs.

Joy bubbles from the very center of her, pushing at the seam of her lips, and it’s not much of a seam when her mouth is open to accommodate tongue, but it’s enough of a sound that Killian pulls back. No glare. Definitely eyebrow movement, though.

“That’s not the best confidence boost, you know.” “I’m straddling you,” Emma counters, nodding toward the knees on either side of his, and she has no idea when her fingers found his hair. It’s very soft.

“How did that happen?” “What was that about confidence?”

Dropping his head, she gets a different sort of laugh, one that’s just as potent in its ability to settle into her bloodstream and the empty spaces around her heart, and sports have turned her into a sap. “I like you a lot,” Killian murmurs. Emma’s heart explodes. Metaphorically speaking.

“Good.” “Expand on that, for me.” She pinches his side, almost prepared for the way it leaves him bucking beneath her. Less prepared for the mutual groan it causes. Killian’s eyes widen. “I like you a lot,” Emma repeats, and his arms tighten, and her heart knits itself back together, and the second time through the kissing order is even better.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s nearly-adult life, because Anna demands it.

“I just think it’ll be fun,” Anna says, not for the first time. And, not for the first time, she ignores the pointed look Emma and Elsa exchange. Elsa’s lips have all but disappeared behind her teeth “Think about it,” Anna continues, “we need something to do before the game, anyway. This way we’re—you know, staying active.” Emma’s eyebrows jump. Fly. Soar into her hairline where the level of her disbelief sits, all too aware of the ring hanging around her neck.

A Draft Day gift. As much as a family heirloom can be a gift. But Killian claimed it was good luck, his brother’s ring, because turns out that snark is at least a partial product of a wholly depressing childhood, and Emma supposes there’s something to be said for common ground. Understanding, too. Stories shared over weeks that turned to months that turned to years and seasons in the minors, and it absolutely figures Killian’s Major League debut is happening in Cincinnati. Where Kristoff plays.

It’s ridiculous how in love with him she is.

Killian. Not Kristoff.

Anna is still talking. “There’s nothing else to do in Cincinnati,” she reasons, which seems unfair to the city itself but not entirely untrue, and even the concept of chili on spaghetti grosses Emma out. “Also,” Anna adds, sounding as if she’s reached the final bullet point on her list of possible arguments, “I’ve got a Groupon deal for this place.”

Elsa blinks. “I didn’t realize Groupon was even still a thing.” “Surprise!”

Emma’s laugh isn’t entirely honest, but her sigh of acceptance is and—

Turns out she’s pretty good at it.

Goddamn fantastic, actually.

At rock climbing. Indoor rock climbing. Her feet push her up the wall with ease, the steady ache in her arms welcome and wonderful and a slew of other alliterative adjectives. That leave Killian grinning like a maniac, but it’s been a weird and equally wonderful day, without a hit, but two walks, so that ups the on-base, and Emma’s really, seriously in love with him.

“I don’t know what it was,” she says, preening just a bit under Killian’s stare. Hotel lighting casts shadows on his cheeks, slumped as he is against every pillow they could find. Even the ones in the closet. He’s not supposed to be in here for much longer, both of them aware of the team-ordained curfew hanging over them, but the pre-game nerves are long gone. Replaced instead with exhilaration and endorphins, the kind that could win Elle Woods a headline-making case. “But,” Emma continues, “I just kept moving, and the guy said it was, like, a course record. Is course the right word, you think?” Killian lifts a shoulder. Even as it’s covered in ice and tape. The play he made at third is going to show on loop. On TV. In Emma’s memory. She’s never yelled that loud before.

People took pictures.

And then she cried. Like a giant sap.

“This is your show, Swan,” Killian chuckles, pride infusing the words. As if she’s the one who deserves the pride today. It’s entirely possible she cried for multiple minutes after that play. They definitely showed that on the YES Network. Mary Margaret texted her no less than forty-seven times.

“I was really fast.” Killian hums, fingers fluttering enough to make it clear he wants her closer. Emma doesn’t argue. They’re a mess of limbs and mouths and that tongue thing they’ve collectively gotten better at giving and receiving over the years, hands that warm with the sort of confidence borne of repetition. Some joke about BP and finding your swing.

“Plus,” he says, a soft laugh at Emma’s noise of displeasure when talking means far less kissing, “becoming a rock climbing savant means more upper-body work, and you know how I love your arms.” Guffawing the way Emma does is not particularly romantic. Doesn’t matter. The sound comes, and the joy remains, a steady stream pumping through all her extremities and clouding her thoughts. In the best way possible. Before Killian, Emma didn’t know this could be that. Fun and easy, not quite simple, but something she’s willing to work for. Athletes are notoriously determined, after all.

Part of her wonders if a proclivity to rock climbing makes her an athlete, too.

“Please,” she says, laughter clinging to the letters even as she finds herself moved directly over Killian’s outstretched legs, “provide, in detail, everything you enjoy about my arms.” “I didn’t say enjoy.” “Were you misquoted, Jones?” His eyes flash. Glow, honestly. At her and because of her and athletes also know how to work their opponents. Goad them into making mistakes. Something about a pitcher’s duel and a battle in the box. Where the box is this bed. And Emma’s winning.

“I love your arms,” Killian says. Dragging his mouth against the column of her throat leaves goosebumps on Emma’s skin. Her back arches. His hand flattens. The compliments continue. Turn into promises. Guarantees. Of a future that’s spread out at their feet now, if only they reach for it.

Turns out Emma’s pretty good at reaching for things. When she wants them.

“This isn’t, like, free-scale, though, is it?”

Her heart cannot be expected to handle much more of this.

“Don’t worry,” Emma says, “all proper safety precautions were taken. Plus, I wouldn’t fall off the wall.”

Killian’s expression shutters. Not in any of that frustration Emma so clearly understood when his shirt was damp, and her shoes were unsalvagable despite his best efforts to get the school’s equipment manager to dry-clean them. No, it’s—it’s something big and important and unspoken, and Emma pulls his hand up. To rest directly over the rink that’s still tucked beneath her t-shirt.

His t-shirt.

It’s got his last number on it, at least.

“Would you catch me if I fell off the wall?” He doesn’t answer at first. Doesn’t mention the absurdity of a question that does not make sense, but those literal and metaphorical clock hands are ticking, and if they don’t replace his ice soon, they’re going to destroy these sheets. “Every single time, Swan.” “Right back at you.”

Killian doesn’t miss curfew, but it’s pretty close.

And Emma wakes up to twelve texts with links for indoor rock climbing gyms in the greater New York City area.

“Holy shit, this is hard.”

Grunting more than laughing, Emma’s fingers curl around the rock in front of her. Chalk cakes itself on the pads of those fingers, stuck beneath her nails and, somehow, the bend of her elbow. “Are you not an All-Star?” she asks, glancing at Killian.

“I do not see how that factors into this at all.”

“Huh, weird.” “Suspiciously sounds like an accusation.” “Weird,” Emma repeats. They’re halfway up a wall only one of them is really supposed to be on, but the other person several feet below them is faring far worse than the pair of them combined, so, that takes precedence in her mind. “He knows a lot more curse words than I realized.” “He’s showing off,” Killian grumbles, forehead resting against the wall.

Will Scarlet hasn’t moved in five minutes. Possibly six. Maybe a round ten. He's much better at second base.

“I cannot feel my arms,” he calls, and Emma’s laugh is better that time. Purer, somehow. As if happiness can actually have a sound. Even happiness that comes with sweat on her temple and a noticeable ache in her triceps and she sort of loves this.

Sort of is a vast understatement.

“Showing off, huh?” Emma asks. She finds her next footfall with ease, happiness blooming into confidence that’s become nearly consistent these days and weeks and years. It does not take her long to feel the stare that’s lingering on her. On her ass, specifically.

She glances over her shoulder. To find her fiancé smiling at her. And staring at her ass.

“Can I help you, love?” “Whatcha doing?” “Ogling you, obviously.” “Forearms feeling good?” He nods. Sort of. There’s a distinct slope to the back of his neck and more sweat on his brown than Emma’s. Not as much as Scarlet’s, probably. “Fantastic,” Killian drawls, “keep going, Swan, someone’s got to show us how to do it.” “Try not to fall off the wall, huh? Last thing we need is the might of the Yankees front office coming after us.” “I don’t think I can move my hands,” Will shouts. Killian doesn’t move. It’s impressive forearm strength. Blushing on the wall is not usually how Emma’s days go.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises, and Emma moves. He follows her. Up the wall and to the top, a quick brush of his lips against her shoulder that leaves Scarlet cursing even more, despite his presence on the floor, but then there’s lemon-flavored water and exceptionally soft towels and Emma’s caught a bit off guard by the question.

“Are there leagues for this?” Will asks. “Because you should probably be winning things for this.” Emma blinks. Considers. Wonders. Turns to Killian.

He’s still smiling. Broadly, in fact.

“We could look.” They do. They fill out paperwork. Buy fancy climbing shoes that Emma claims cost too much, but Killian’s a pushover and even more stubborn and she wins the first race she signs up for.

Plus, ten more after that.

Emma climbs indoor rock walls. Killian hits home runs. Occasionally they do these things simultaneously, and it usually leads to her nearly falling off the wall because everyone in her Tribeca gym knows what it means when WFAN is playing on the speakers.

Sometimes they shout out John Sterling’s home run call with him.

She gets better. He gets better.

They do end up destroying sheets in various hotels across the country. For various reasons. Not all of them post-game or ice related. There are games and events. Wins and losses. Back page spreads that Emma frames and hangs on their apartment walls, right next to other, smaller frames, with the same smiling faces who, once upon a time, called a sticky-floored baseball house home, and Killian’s fingers are warm in hers when the tears prick her eyes at Anna and Kristoff’s wedding.

There are stories. Think pieces and hot takes on a variety of drive-time radio shows. Those are all about Killian, though. He’s the athlete. The true one, some stories say. It’s impressive what Emma does, they admit, but it’s a hobby, and she’s got a grown-up career, anyway. So, she’s got more climbing records than she knew ever existed, but she’s not doing it for press, and both Mary Margaret and Anna weep at her and Killian’s wedding.

She wears her ring on a chain next to her other one when she climbs.

Every time Killian notices them hanging there, Emma swears, his eyes brighten. It’s her favorite thing in the whole, goddamn world.

“What is this?” He doesn’t answer. Just holds the sheet of paper he must have printed out in the clubhouse because they certainly don’t have a printer at home, and one of the edges is bent. Like he had to fit it in his back pocket.

“Going the stoic route, huh?” Emma quips, but there’s a noticeable hitch in her pulse. One that’s been there for weeks. Since the rumblings started, and the rumors began, whispers of possibility, and first-ever has a very nice ring to it. One side of Killian’s mouth tugs up. “Oh, that’s not fair.�� “I’d like the record to show, that the only reason I didn’t know immediately was because I was in the trainer’s room, so—” “What were you in the trainer’s room for?” Killian ignores her. Well, sort of. His eyes shift, and his gaze holds, and Emma knows. Right down in the marrow of her. What the paper is and how Scarlet is the one who printed it out, but she’s even more confident Killian carried it home, and that does something funny to her entire worldview. Widens it and minimizes it at the same time, focusing on this and them and the possibility that creates.

In an athletic sort of way.

“My shoulder’s kind of sore.” Emma scoffs. “Oh, that’s pointed.” “I’m sure your shoulders are fine. Golden, even.’ “This is not your best work, you know that?” “Look at the paper.” “Did you fold it yourself?” “And then took a car back home. You really didn’t see yet?” Emma shakes her head. He knows the answer, too. He’s the one with the Google alert, after all. Because she’s still a bit of a pessimist at heart and an adult with a real job, and this is too much and abjectly terrifying, and the last thing she expects is for Killian to crouch in front of her.

One of his knees cracks.

“Don’t,” he warns, even as Emma does her best to swallow her laugh. Warm hands land on her thighs, a quiet steadiness that helps the state of her pulse and makes the possibility of the unknown a little less overwhelming. The lines crossing the center of the paper are absurdly straight. “You’re going to go.” “Oh, that sounded like a decree.” “A suggestion.” “A strong one.” “Mmhm, with the utmost confidence.” Emma makes an impressive sound. “Who’s doing your media training? What an impressive vocabulary you’ve got on you.” “Ready and willing to use it in a persuasive manner.” “Keep talking like that, and you won’t have to.” The smirk disappears. Evolves into a grin that is only Emma’s and only appears in moments like this, support clinging to air molecules and the ends of hair that constantly seems determined to fall into Killian’s eyes. “Passed, huh? All cool with the IOC.” “Decidedly cool. Officially an Olympic sport, now. Although the name could use some work. Sport climbing lacks a little oomph, don’t you think?”

“What would you call it?” “Emma Swan wins Olympic gold.” “Kinda wordy.” “Prophetic,” Killian corrects, hands shifting and pulling, and Emma has to widen her legs. His head’s at a very good kissing angle. “You’ve already got the qualifying numbers.” “You looked at the qualifying numbers?” “Don’t insult me like that. What do you think I did in the backseat?” “Planned the entire 2020 Olympics, apparently.” “Not the entire Olympics,” Killian counters, "just the part involving you. And maybe my individual expectations regarding the United States baseball team, but that’s another conversation altogether.”

“Naturally.”

“You’re using that voice.”

Widening her eyes does nothing. Emma didn’t expect it to. Not after years and games and events because rock climbing has events, and one time Mary Margaret made her a sign. Killian held it. He’s taller, that’s why.

“Don’t,” Killian repeats, “this is happening.” “Yuh-huh?” “You heard me. It’s your turn, now.” Melting is an impossibility. Like, for a human. Even so. Emma feels like she’s melting. Some of that pessimism evaporating under the warmth of Killian’s gaze and his hands and the determination in the precise angle of his chin. Same one he uses when he steps into the box with runners in scoring position.

Lumping herself into that group isn’t as insulting as Emma once believed it would be.

“God,” Emma groans, “that’s romantic.” “You’re really selling it, love.”

“This is supposed to be a hobby.” “One you’re exceedingly good it. World record good at it.” “I like you.” “That’s my end game, yeah.” She laughs. Smiles. Continues melting. Which is easier once they get rid of their clothing, and their bed is way more comfortable than any hotel they’ve encountered. And she falls asleep with Killian’s lips against her ear, Emma Swan, Olympic gold medalist whispered on loop like it’s a mantra he’s been practicing.

They postpone the Olympics.

It sucks. Everything sucks. Baseball sucks. Gyms are closed. Emma gets creative, and Killian gets research-prone. They build a makeshift wall. She tosses him BP.

People write stories about it.

It doesn’t help.

Until—

Time passes. Some things change. Others don’t. Their wall stands up to the elements of their building’s courtyard, and Killian’s hitting better than ever this season, a victory Emma’s going to claim as at least partially hers. And then the Olympics are back, and it’s qualifying and racing and a record that’s just out of reach, but she’s good enough even without it, and, this time, she’s the one packing a suitcase.

He kisses her.

Does the tongue thing.

Holds onto her like he’s only a little afraid she’s going to fall off the wall, but now the wall is international competition, and Emma’s freaking out a little.

“I love you,” she says into the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten. “I love you too.” “Gold medal?” “Gold medal.” “Hit some home runs while I’m gone, huh?” Lips graze her temple. Her forehead. The bridge of her nose. Emma might be crying, and Mary Margaret’s definitely recording, a small mob of red white, and blue surrounding them. “I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises.

“Good.”

He hits three before her first qualifying round. So, Emma takes that as a challenge. She’s an athlete now.

It’s why, she figures, her fingers don’t slip on her first run.

Her feet are sure. Her breathing is steady. There’s no one cheering her name, but she’s long since memorized the exact way Killian’s voice lifts above a crowd. How he pushes up on his toes to watch, as if standing up taller makes sure he’s closer to her. Should she need him when she falls off the wall. Only, Emma doesn’t fall, and she’s got no intention of ever falling and—

Her laugh shudders out of her in a watery sort of way that makes the journalist still standing in front of her flinch ever so slightly. Twitter makes sure the video starts playing again as soon as it finishes, which is somehow the best and worst thing that has ever happened to her. Best because, well, Emma’s honestly not sure she’s ever seen her husband like this.

Worst because she’s very nearly goddamn crying. Again.

Bobbing on the balls of his feet in front of his locker, whoever’s recording the video — it’s Scarlet, obviously — is practically frenzied behind the camera, barely able to contain their laughter. Killian doesn’t notice. He’s holding his own phone, all five of his free fingers firmly entrenched in the back of his hair. It’s gotten softer with age, Emma thinks.

She can’t stop watching him.

Every inhale is a clear struggle, the bobbing turning into pacing and quiet mumbling she can hear perfectly. As if she’s standing right in front of him.

Or at least slightly to the side. So as not to stand on the logo in the middle of the clubhouse.

Athletes are notoriously superstitious, too.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Killian chants, another noticeable snicker from Scarlet, “right there, right there, and pull, pull—Swan, pull up!”

“I did pull up there,” Emma mumbles. To the reporter, maybe. Or the world. Possibly her husband. Who was definitely more nervous about the first run than her.

God, that’s romantic.

Killian’s still talking. Shouting, more like. It’s a miracle Scarlet hasn’t fallen over yet.

“Faster, faster, you can go faster than that, Swan—” Emma clicks her tongue. “That’s kind of insulting.”

There’s an appropriate titter of laughter from the peanut gallery, which is a joke she was not trying to make, but she’s also dangerously close to swooning in the middle of press and she should have asked the Yankees for media training. Someone would have made sure she didn’t make a total ass of herself.

“Show me the time,” Killian yells, another demand that isn’t that. It’s too wobbly a string of words to hold any real power, just the supportive sort of desperation Emma’s felt in a variety of ninth innings and series-clinching moments. “Faster! Faster!” “Talking to the time or the judges or your wife?” Scarlet asks.

Killian nearly snarls.

Emma blinks. Hyperactively. Crying is not usually her shtick. More camera flashes...flash, Emma barely noticing them with her eyes glued to a phone screen that isn’t hers because she at least knows not to bring her phone to a press conference, and she can only imagine how many text messages she’s gotten.

Even on the other side of the world.

They post the times.

She knows because Killian gets some rather impressive height on his celebratory vertical. Fingers abandoning his hair, his fist pumps the air, and Scarlet’s not laughing so much as he’s whooping, a steady stream of yeah, yeah, yeah in the background. And for about half a breath, Emma’s worried Killian may turn one of his ankles on his landing, but he’d think that was insulting, and she’s really just full-on swooning now.

“How many people have seen this?’ she asks the reporter, already knowing the answer.

The reporter smiles anyway. Emma should learn her name.

“Pretty much the whole world.” When Emma was a kid — the sort of kid who believed alone was better, and there was strength in singularity, that would have terrified her. Bowled her over, really. Left her running without looking back, desperate to shed any sort of notoriety because notoriety meant attention, and attention meant inevitable disappointment.

Maybe that’s why she was never much of a sports person.

Sports disappoint you. They build you up and let you down, a sharp and sudden fall without a safety net. But sometimes. Sometimes, every so often, something wonderful happens. Sports lift you. Right up an indoor wall. Because, she knows, sports’ power comes from belief, from surrendering yourself to something bigger and better, and she’s back on that alliterative kick, but the tears are barely clinging to her eyelashes now and Emma herself is bigger and better, now.

In an international, decidedly romantic sort of way.

The video’s playing away.

“Let’s go,” Killian cries, and there it is. Her sound and their sound, cheering across an ocean and time zones that are still kind of messing with her sleep schedule.

Emma’s smile stretches.

“Let’s go,” she repeats.

It ends, as with most things in Emma’s gold-medal-winning life, because Anna plans it.

Stepping out of the terminal, it takes less than a full breath for the cheers to start. For the banners to lift and the tears to flow, a small platoon of support covered in the sort of patriotic gear they definitely got from the Old Navy in Herald Square.

Flashes burst behind Emma’s eyelids because she’s got to blink or she’ll definitely fall over. Her legs wobble beneath her, contending against a wave of triumph and jubilation, which is sort of the same word, but they’ve got a game at the Stadium tonight, so she doesn’t expect, she just hopes and reaches, and he has to twist around both Anna and Mary Margaret.

It’s wonderfully cyclical.

As is the way Emma slams herself against him. On purpose, this time. Killian’s arms tighten, more cheers and shouts, and people a few feet away start chanting USA over and over. Emma barely hears them. Her feet aren’t touching the ground, so she’s kind of preoccupied.

They’re all arms and mouths, and her legs wrapped securely around a body that probably shouldn’t be supporting hers when she knows he slid into second two nights ago, but Killian clearly has no intention of letting her down, and the medal around her neck bumps against her rings.

“You’re a very good cheerleader; you know that?” He hisses. In what, Emma can’t imagine. Embarrassment, if the red tips of his ears are anything to go by, and she’s got ideas as to why that is and how long the conversation about social media with Scarlet went, so Emma does the only reasonable thing.

She slams her lips against her home-run hitting husband’s, doing her best to make sure the gold medal doesn’t mistakenly impale either one of them, and the world tilts again. With victory and sports-based support and the sort of love that comes from believing in something bigger.

And better than Emma could have ever imagined.

“I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Please,” Emma scoffs, “don’t insult me like that. Plus, I’m claiming every one of those home runs as my own, so comparatively—” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

That’s for the best, probably.

“Your arms looked ridiculously good the whole time.”

Her laugh doesn’t even sound like her when Emma hears it played back — another video that someone tells her goes viral, only she doesn’t care about hits or site traffic, just about the particular shade of blue in Killian’s eyes, and she wears her medal to the game that night.

Because they’re a sports power couple, now.

Or so the New York Post back page claims the next day.

Emma frames it.

[lampmeeting]

F L O Y any pairings you want!!!! I’m so happy you quit!!!??

ME TOO i had such a nice day hahaha :') thank you!

any pairings i want huh?? oh boy let's put this under a cut hehe

(abigaar, magnate, chickles and nategaar)

"F" for fake dating - ABIGAAR :3c

tyr and skwisgaar keep in touch, and aww he's such a sweet dad figure. always wanting to know about skwisgaar's upcoming "concerts" and prying cutely for information about anyone skwisgaar's involved in ("saws you on reds carpets with a pretty blondes girl. you dates her? brings her to swedens, i cooks dinner!") it's nice, but skwisgaar for some reason doesn't have the heart to tell tyr that he doesn't exactly DO dating, so he puts him off and puts him off.

this gets more pressing after doomstar. skwisgaar starts feeling the guilt for avoiding visiting the man who's been trying to make a real fatherly effort for the last couple years. but he doesn't have anyone in mind to bring "home" to tyr's house. groupies aren't exactly an appropriate choice, he decides. but he tells tyr he'll come to visit with his girlfriend.

enter abigail. in charles' absence, she stepped in to manage the band ("just for the time being. it's not permanent." but she's not exactly actively helping them look for another candidate. as much as she wants nothing more to do with dethklok after the whole kidnapping thing, she can't seem to shake the feeling that she's meant to be there with them right now, that her continued presence in their lives is important somehow)

she notices skwisgaar seems distracted, off his game, and after a weirdly ungood practice session, she takes him aside to ask if he's all right. skwisgaar's never been great at being aloof around her, she cuts through his bullshit so fast, so he just admits it - tyr wants to meet his nonexistent girlfriend, and he doesn't know what to do. "needs to finds someone whats ams, y'know, classy. preskentsable. a nice girls."

abigail's listening to him intently. she's dressed in a classy blouse and pencil skirt, the jewel of her necklace resting below the dip in her collar. she looks very...presentable, doesn't she? skwisgaar swallows. and abigail is very nice...

"someones...smarts. goods to talks to, likes how we ams talkings rights now, evens."

abigail tilts her head at him curiously.

"maybes, uhhms...someones whats has beautifuls brown hairs? and ams nameds...aaabigaaaails...?"

she snorts a laugh into her hand. well, she has been desperately needing a vacation, and she knows skwisgaar won't try anything untoward... what could go wrong?

(this can also blend into Bed Sharing when they arrive in sweden and realize that tyr has put "the lovebirds" up in his guest bedroom...with only one bed)

--

"L" for Love at First Sight - MAGNATE

pre-preklok. magnus is (or, err, was) a moderately well-known local musician in phoenix. at 34 years old, though, he's kinda worn out his welcome. he never made it big, he's bounced between a dozen bands over the last 15 years, and now there are cooler, younger musicians coming up in the scene and man magnus just feels so old and bitter. maybe he should just give up music. what has it ever done for him except lead him to heartbreak after heartbreak (professional and personal)?

he goes out one night by himself. there's this new death metal band he's been hearing rumblings about. apparently the lead vocalist is like ten years younger than him and is definitely gonna be Somebody someday, and magnus is in a mood to drink and feel real fucking sorry for himself.

the opening band sucks, but then Abyssal Carcass takes the stage and the vocalist is broad-shouldered with long, silky black hair pooling over his shoulders and obscuring his face. he holds the mic in a massive fist, and when the first song starts and he opens his mouth to roar, magnus' heart nearly forgets how to beat. he's enchanted. that voice is so unlike anything he's ever heard before...he wants it. he wants it for himself. he wants to write songs for that voice. he wants to hear that voice in his ear, saying his name.

he doesn't see the man's face until after the second song when the vocalist finally stands up to his full height and rakes his hair back with a lift of his beefy arm. chiseled features, strong jaw, green eyes. magnus doesn't know if this is love or lust, maybe it's both, maybe it's jealousy, maybe he's just a sad old man wanting what he can't have.

after the show, magnus is visibly drunk and hangs around to catch the band before they leave. the vocalist sees him, and oh shit, he recognizes him. "oh shit, you're magnus hammersmith, right? from witch visions?"

"and servitor. and alchemical castration. and..." magnus blanks. too drunk. "...others, i presume."

the vocalist laughs deep and warm in his chest, and fuck... yup. magnus has it bad already.

"hey, ditch your band tonight. let's get outta here, you and me." magnus slings an arm around the guy's huge shoulders. "tell me your name again, bud?"

"oh, uh, nathan."

"nathan! nathan. lemme buy you a beer, nathan. i got a little business proposition for you."

--

"O" is for Opposites Attract - CHICKLES

preklok! charles gets a call from a near-hysterical toki in the middle of the night that pickles has been in an accident. clipped by a car while trying to jaywalk downtown, and now he's in the hospital having emergency surgery on a fractured leg. this is about a year after charles starts working for them, maybe just a few months after magnus' departure and toki's hiring, so everything's felt really stressful and up in the air, and NOW THIS.

charles of course gets dressed and races to the hospital to make sure pickles is being taken care of properly (no other reason, he's simply concerned for his client). pickles gets out of surgery, he's busted up real bad but he'll heal just fine the doctors say as long as he rests properly and keeps off his feet. easier said than done when it comes to pickles, and just a few days later charles swings by the apartment to see, to his horror, that pickles has drugged himself up and is trying to "walk it off" and still practice drums with the full kit. the others, it seems, are perfectly fine with pickles' attempts to do this.

in the interest of the band's future, pickles' leg needs to heal properly. he needs rest, relaxation, healthy meals. so charles does the only thing he can think of that will keep pickles safe from himself: he invites pickles to stay with him until he recovers.

of course pickles makes a terribly messy roommate and complains every step of the way, and charles is strict almost beyond reason. they end up getting into a huge argument about it, and charles finally breaks down and admits that no he's not doing this to make pickles' life miserable or teach him a lesson about wandering drunk through the streets, it's because he CARES about him damnit!

charles freezes, certain he's overstepped every boundary he's ever set for himself professionally and personally, and then pickles just sniffles, smiles, and says, "you...really care about me, charlie?" ;~;

--

"Y" is for Years of Friendship First - NATEGAAR

i mean...this has to be nategaar, right?

they've been fast friends ever since skwisgaar auditioned for dethklok, when nathan and magnus and murderface all looked at each other and went "YUP" simultaneously. the two of them just vibed. maybe it was nathan's penchant for short, easily-digestible words and phrases, and skwisgaar's minimal english at the time. magnus and murderface were both wordy motherfuckers, and skwisgaar would normally tune them out. but talking to nathan, or even not talking at all, always came easy. and musically they were so aligned nathan thought magnus was jealous.

bandmates came and went. years passed. so much happened, so much changed. the near-breakup of dethklok, the events of doomstar, the takedown of salacia. the dust settled. dethklok was no more, the spell of their success broken, their god powers depleted, sacrificed in the final battle.

nathan still makes music. he has to. it's not quite as angry and dire as the stuff he used to write, but he likes it. and skwisgaar likes it, which feels like the most important thing. for some reason, when the others all went their separate ways to live their lives apart from the band, nathan and skwisgaar couldn't leave each other. at first nathan told himself it a professional thing. they were just so accustomed to making music together, so of course they'd want to keep doing that. but they eventually realize they're spending all their time together even outside of working on the music. and nathan's slowly moving into skwisgaar's house. and sleeping over a lot. and helping skwisgaar make breakfast. and if they hug a lot it's just because they're such awesome friends. and if they kiss a little, well, guys in europe kiss all the time, right? who cares.

a couple years later, when nathan's mother jokes that he should visit and "bring that husband of yours with you", the two of them look at each other and realize... oh. ohhh.

[moral-turpitudes]

House Calls:

A/N: I’m in no way a doctor or even a med student, I just used google and went off my own experiences with fevers...so yeah lol. I’m screaming at how cute Soft!Tommy is though like I think I’m dead. RIP to me and my ovaries.

Trigger Warnings: Angst, FLUFF. Some flirty shit at the end.

Word Count: 1,640

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

Request: “Could you perhaps write a one-shot Tommy x reader and the reader would work as a doctor and one day she would be called to treat John or Charlie (doesn’t matter) and she would be able to cure them and Thomas would be very grateful for it. I think that might be very cute but if you don’t like the idea it’s okay!! 😃😃”

Requested by: Anon

Summary: Y/N is summoned to Thomas Shelby’s house to help cure his ailing son, not knowing she’d catch the eye of the usually cold-hearted gang leader.

Part 1 | Part 2

Around 5am a rough, rattling cough came from the depths of Charlie’s lungs, startling him awake and causing him to cry between ragged breaths. His frail screaming pierced the air, sending Tommy shooting out of bed, grabbing his gun from his nightstand, and darting straight to his sons room. He panicked internally, while flinging the door open for any signs of danger, only to be met with Charlies cries and outstretched hands.

Tommy took a deep breath and sighed, scooping him up and taking a seat in the rocking chair near his crib. As he fought sleep, he looked at the pale blue ceiling of his sons room, listening to Charlie’s ragged breaths. With a furrowed brow, he lifted him up, bringing his forehead to his lips, confirming his suspicions of a fever. The poor thing was flushed red in the face, a light sheen of sweat developing on his skin as his hot tears soaked his face.

“Shhh...it’s okay. Daddy’s got ya. We’re going to call a doctor okay?” He said, trying to gently coo to calm Charlie down. He was whining and fussy and showing no signs of the fever breaking anytime soon.

Tommy gently got up with him and brought him to his bedroom, sitting him on what would’ve been Grace’s side of the bed, and lied down next to him whilst he dialed the doctors office.

A nice voice on the end of the line answered. “This is Dr. Y/L/N with the Birmingham Women and Children’s Clinic. How may I help you?” She asked.

“Hello Dr. Y/L/N, this is Thomas Shelby. I’m calling about my son. He has a cough, ragged breathing, and a fever that seems really high. Are you able to make house calls?” He asked, watching as Charlie played with a horse-shaped toy.

“Yes of course Mr. Shelby. I’ll just need an address and I’ll be over in about 30 minutes.” She said.

Tommy told her the address and any other details she needed to know. And before he could hang up, her voice sounded again, calming Tommy as the sun rose through the window.

“Don’t worry Mr. Shelby, I’ll have him better in no time. But just for a precaution, get a cold rag and put it on the back of his neck to help with the fever.”

“Alright, I will. Thank you.” He said before hanging up.

“Well Charlie, looks like we’re going to have a visitor alright? She’s going to take good care of ya.” He said as Charlie now laid against his chest, whining quietly. Tommy gently put him on the pillow and went to get a cloth, running it under cold water, and putting it over the back of his neck.

“There ya go, my sweet boy.” He said kissing the top of his head. He whined a bit as the cold cloth touched his neck, protesting the feeling as Tommy watched sleepily over him. It was around 5:30 in the morning when they finally heard the doorbell and a swift knock on the door.

Tommy picked up Charlie, and went to the door allowing the nurse to step in.

“Thank you for coming so early in the morning. I’m surprised anyone’s working this early.” He said, his voice still a bit groggy.

“Of course! I was working the graveyard shift so I’m always the doctor on call at this time. Now this must be Charlie...Hello sweetheart. My name is Y/N.” You said, smiling and in a much more lively tone than Tommy.

“Charlie do you want to show Y/N to your room?” He asked. Charlie looked up at you and smiled slightly, his rosy cheeks alarming you a bit.

“Lead the way you two, I’ll be right behind ya.” You said, nervously walking down the hall and up the stairs, reveling at the grandiosity of the house. You knew the Shelby’s after caring for many of the families wives and children, but this was the first time you’ve encountered the infamous Thomas Shelby. His current state was much less alarming than you thought it was going to be. You expected a ruthless leader answering the door, with a razor-blade cap on and wielding a gun, but instead he was a blue-eyed slim faced man, with a loose fitting shirt and pants on, and an adorable baby boy living seemingly alone in this huge mansion. 

“Here we are, where would you like me to put him?” He asked you. You looked around the blue-toned room, your eyes catching a portrait of a blonde haired, beautiful woman in a frame near his crib that you assumed to be his late mother, as it was similar to the one in the stairwell.

“His crib is fine.” You said, sitting your work bag down and putting your gloves on and putting your stethoscope around your neck. 

“If you don’t mind I’d like to stay, he doesn’t like when I leave...” He said, taking a seat in the rocking chair.

“That’s completely fine, Mr. Shelby. I’ll try to make this quick so you don’t fall asleep.” You said smirking. He smiled and watched on as you did your work.

“Alright I’m going to take this and listen to your heart okay? Big breaths for me, like this.” You said, breathing in a big breath and blowing out.

He did his best to copy you and sat surprisingly still as the stethoscope gently made its way around his chest and back.

“His heart sounds great, but his breathing is a bit rough. His lungs sound like they’re inflamed a little bit.” You said looking over at Tommy who was eyeing you intently, causing you to blush a bit as he nodded for you to continue. 

“Okay sweetie let’s take your temperature shall we?” You say before reaching in your bag to get a thermometer.

“Can you say “Ahh” for me Charlie?” You asked, smiling at him. He opened his mouth just enough for you to examine his throat before raising his arm up to place the thermometer under his arm.

“We’re going to play a game okay? You’re going to hold that under your arm and I’m going to hold this under mine until it’s ready alright?” You said, grabbing a pencil from your bag and placing it under yours, getting him to copy you. You were able to get a reading not too long after, taking the pencil from under your arm and clapping as you removed the thermometer from under his.

“Now I know you won’t like me for a moment, but I’m going to shine this at your eyes for a second okay? Look at me.” You said guiding his eyes with your finger as you examined them.

“Great job sweetheart!” You said leaning down to him and giving him a high-five. You turned to Tommy who was smiling at your all’s little interaction. 

“It’s 101.5...that’s a bit high especially for a toddler, and so from the look and sound of it, I’m going to say he has acute bronchitis.” 

His face turned a bit serious as he took in what you said. Your smile faded slightly as you took in his change of emotion.

“Will you be able to prescribe his anything?” He asked, concern lacing his face and his voice.

“Of course Mr. Shelby. I’m going to prescribe him some cough syrup that will help with the cough and everything, and I recommend cold compresses every few hours to help with the fever or a cold bath if you find it increasing.” You said writing out a note for the prescription.

“Alright, thank you again. I hate to keep you away from your work, but I’d probably be panicking right now if it weren't for you Dr. Y/L/N.”

“It’s no problem at all, especially when my patients are as well behaved as little Charlie.” You said, smiling at him and then at Tommy. You felt his gaze on you as you gathered your things and as you made your way to the door.

“Oh and Mr. Shelby, you can call me Y/N. I’d be happy to help you again if need be.”

“Thank you Y/N. And you can call me Tommy. I know it may not be the right time, but I’d love to pay repay ya in some way, not just with money...” He said lingering by the door to Charlie’s room. You stopped and looked at him, taking a moment to think about what he said.

“What kind of repayment were you thinking Mr. Sh-I mean Tommy?” You asked, catching yourself calling him that out of habit. 

“I was thinking maybe going for a drink sometime, when you’re free of course.” He said. You blushed and took a long look at him. 

“I’d love that actually...I’ll ring you this Friday when I’m free.” You said.

“Then it’s a date.” He said smiling slightly before turning back to Charlie. 

You walked out, hearing the birds singing as you drove off and back to the remaining hours of your long shift, excitedly looking forward to the end of the week.

Later that morning, Thomas called the shop, telling Polly all that went on and decided to take the day off to better help monitor him, but before she could say anything else he spoke.

“Oh and cancel anything for Friday of this week.” He said.

“Why...? Thomas is it serious?” She asked concerned.

“No Poll. The lovely doctor prescribed him some medicine. I’m...actually going to be meeting with her that day...”

“My god you’ve asked out the doctor?” She asked.

“I did. But I know she’s not like the others Poll, you’ll see.” He said before hanging up. 

After Grace’s death, he didn’t know when he’d want to take up dating again, but dating takes risks, and risks were something that Thomas Shelby could never shy away from.

Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @cai-neki, @peakyxtommy

[headcanonsandmore]

“Letters to Charlie” 

Summary:  A selection of letters from Ron to his brother Charlie, throughout Ron's first four years at Hogwarts. Includes some mild Romione mentions.

Read on FFN.                             Read on AO3. 

~~~~~~~~~

[1st October 1991]

Dear Charlie,

How are things at the reserve? You said in your last letter that you’ve been getting a lot more burns than normal; have you asked mum for her recipe on salves?

Anyway, I’m settling in okay at Hogwarts. Really glad I was in Gryffindor; my friend Harry was really worried about it, I think. He’s doing fine, but I wish everyone would stop gawking at him all the time. He’s a good bloke; bit quiet but, considering what his aunt and uncle seem to be like, that’s not surprising.

Also, there’s this girl in our class who’s pretty annoying. She treats everyone like they’re idiots and she’s such a teacher’s pet! Her name’s Hermione Granger, and she’s always butting in whenever me and Harry are chatting. She’s not all bad, but I wish she wouldn’t be so uptight about everything. You’d think that someone with hair that bushy would be a bit more fun-loving, but she’s very straightlaced. But I saw her laughing the other day at a joke I made, so maybe she’s not so serious all the time? She has a cute nice laugh.

Don’t tell the twins I said that, or they’ll never stop going on about it.

Anyway, hope you’re okay and that everyone at the reserve is doing fine,

Love,

Ron

  [12th November 1991]

Dear Charlie,

Glad to hear that that the Common Welsh Green pair are doing okay. Things have gotten pretty weird at Hogwarts; someone (probably Peeves) let a troll into the castle at Halloween! Me and Harry had to rescue Hermione Granger from the troll; she covered for us, so we didn’t get punished. McGonagall even gave us some points for Gryffindor!

Hermione’s alright, I think. Bit intense, but she’s not as stuffy as I thought. I mean, it was kind-of my fault that she ended up getting caught by the troll, so I’m glad she didn’t hold a grudge about it. She’s always asking me about stuff, probably because she’s never grown up in a magical family. You wouldn’t think it if you saw her in class, though; she gets so many questions right and she’s apparently memorised the textbooks! Barmy, I know, but she’s alright.

Speaking of dragons, do you know if there’s any way of getting a baby one out of the country? Hagrid has a baby Norwegian Ridgeback in his house, but it’s dangerous for the baby to stay here.

Love,

Ron

 [16th August 1992]

Dear Charlie,

We managed to rescue Harry from the Dursleys! Mum went mad when we got back, but no harm done. Harry’s aunt and uncle had bars put on his window!  I told mum we had to get him out quick; good thing I noticed he wasn’t responding to my letters. Apparently, a house-elf was trying to stop him going back to Hogwarts; weird, right?

Hermione’s saying that she’s hoping to meet up with us in Diagon Alley; I hope so. It’ll be nice to see her again. Apparently, she’s already done all her homework, but that’s what she’s like. What do you think I should get her for her birthday? I asked Harry, but he suggested one of the textbooks (the poor bloke’s never had to buy any presents for anyone ever). I was thinking maybe some of her favourite long-lasting quills, but I’m not sure. Do you reckon I should get her something more… girly? Her best mates are two blokes, so maybe she’d like something to make it clear that  I we don’t just see her as another boy? What do you think?

I’m looking forward to Hogwarts this year; hopefully, it should be a bit quieter than last year. How’s your summer been going? You mentioned about the Chinese Fireball having fang rot; has that been fixed yet, or is she still having troubles?

Hope all’s good with you,

Love,

Ron

 [6th January 1993]

Dear Charlie,

You’ve probably heard the news already about the attacks happening at Hogwarts. The teachers don’t seem to know who’s doing it. Me, Harry, and Hermione have been trying to figure things out, but we haven’t got any leads lately. We thought it might have been Malfoy, but turns out he’s not doing it (still too happy about the attacks, though, the little git!).

I’m really worried about Hermione, to be honest. The attacks are always against muggle-borns and I’m scared she’s gonna be attacked. Do you know if there’s any creature that can petrify someone? I would ask the defence teacher, but Lockhart can barely tell one end of  his wand from the other. Can’t see why Hermione likes him so much; can’t she see how much of a stupid twerp he is?

Like I said before, I’m really sorry about breaking your old wand. I know you said you don’t mind and you’re just glad I was okay, but still. It keeps making weird bubbles whenever I try and cast any spells. My own fault for breaking it, I guess.

Hope you’re well,

Love,

Ron

 [8th May 1993]

Dear Charlie,

Hermione got attacked. She’s been stuck in the hospital wing ever since.

I’m scared. Harry’s managing to keep his head screwed on straight, but I can’t concentrate in lessons. I keep expecting Hermione to be sat next to me, and whenever I turn to look at her, I remember where she is. All pale and cold, like she’d dead or something.

What do I do, Charlie? How do I help her?

Love,

Ron

 [1st June 1993]

Dear Charlie,

Hermione’s okay! The mandrake stuff finally got given to her, and she’s back to normal! I haven’t smiled this much in months! She gave me and Harry a massive hug each when she turned up in the great hall; me and her couldn’t quite look each-other in the eye afterwards, but I think we both got a bit overwhelmed, you know?

Turns out, this was also because Lucius Malfoy was trying to stop dad’s muggle protection law being passed; people could have died!

Confused as to why none of the teachers bothered to ask Myrtle, since she was a witness to the last time the chamber has been opened, but I guess we’ll never know. Were the teachers like this when you were here?

Anyway, got to go; I insisted that Hermione play some chess with me, since our exams have been cancelled (can you guess which Gryffindor was upset about that?).

Love,

Ron

 [3rd September 1993]

Dear Charlie,

We’re all settling back in at Hogwarts; I’m still using those quills you got me in Egypt (thanks again, by the way). Everyone’s talking about Sirius Black, and Malfoy won’t stop being smug about how he knows something we don’t (arrogant little twerp as always).

Hermione’s cat is a bloody nightmare; he’s spent every evening trying to get at Scabbers, but Hermione won’t hear a word against him! Honestly, I don’t get why she can’t just keep the cat away when I ask her to. But she’s always had this thing about being right about everything, so it’s not unsurprising. I just wish she’d stop acting like it’s normal; Hedwig’s been around for three years, and she’s never attacked Scabbers!

Having said that, the first Hogsmeade visit is something to look forward to. It’s gonna be a bit different because Harry can’t go (his aunt and uncle refused to sign his form), but me and Hermione are going to make sure we take back lots of stuff for him so he doesn’t feel left out.

I am a little nervous about going, though; me and Hermione spend loads of time together, so why would this be any different? Probably nothing. Maybe it’s just because we’re bickering more because of our pets? Yeah, that sounds about right. I’ve already got her birthday present, so hopefully she’s not too angry at me and won’t mind me giving her a present.

Let me know how the Chinese Fireball baby is doing,

Love,

Ron

 [4th January 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Hermione just can’t keep her nose out of things! She reported Harry’s firebolt to McGonagall, and now it’s been confiscated! She says it’s because it could have been sent by Sirius Black. I know that’s a possibility, but she didn’t need to go behind Harry’s back about it!

I swear, this girl is driving me nuts!

Love,

Ron

 [13th February 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Me and Hermione have made things up; she even apologised about Scabbers. She must have been really upset, because she started crying and hugged me! Is it normal to get all flustered when a girl hugs you? Cause it didn’t the same as it did when she hugged me at the end of second year.

You’ve probably heard from Hagrid about Buckbeak being executed. We’re trying to get an appeal plea sorted; it’s mostly me and Hermione doing it, since Harry’s got other stuff to worry about. It’s nice being friends with Hermione again; I hated it when we weren’t speaking. It’s still a bit awkward (we both can’t quite look each other in the eye at times), but that’s probably normal, given what’s happened.

Remember to put that salve mum made on your new scars,

Love,

Ron

 [14th July 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Hope you’re enjoying the summer so far; it’ll be great to see you again, mum’s organising the room situation, so I think you’re sharing with Bill. Can’t wait for the world cup! Do you think Ireland will win against Bulgaria? I’ve been saving my pocket money all summer for it, so I can buy some souvenirs! Are you gonna bring some stories about the dragons when you get here?

Mum’s said I can invite Harry and Hermione over, and they’ll be coming to the world cup with us! It’ll be brilliant to see them again; Harry deserves a break from those horrible people he lives with, and Hermione could do with a break from work in general (she’s already finished all her summer homework, but that’s what she’s like).

It’ll be great to have both of them here for the summer; I hope Hermione doesn’t mind sharing with Ginny, since Gin’s more of a Quidditch-head than Hermione is. Mum keeps on at me to tidy my room before Hermione arrives, but it’s not as if she’s staying in my room, is it?

I did clean up my room a bit, though. Hermione’s a bit funny about mess, and I don’t want her to think I’m a slob.

See you soon,

Love,

Ron

 [30th October 1994]

Dear Charlie,

I’m still angry at mum, dad, and Bill for keeping us in the dark about the Triwizard Tournament; half the other kids from wizarding families knew! Speaking of the Tournament, the students from the other schools have arrived. You won’t believe it but Viktor Krum’s a student at Durmstrang! He’s a bit grouchy looking, but I guess he gets sick of people treating him different all the time. I didn’t know he was eighteen; he looks way older. The Slytherins are trying to cosy up to him, but he’s knows exactly what they’re doing; I saw him telling a few of them off for being unpleasant to the muggle-born first years. So I guess he’s alright.

The students from Beauxbatons are all nice enough but one of the girls has some sort of Veela charm thing. Hermione keeps glaring at me whenever I get caught in it, but it’s hardly my fault, is it? Harry gets affected too, but does she yell at him? No, of course she doesn’t. I swear, Hermione’s been weird ever since the term started; the other week I caught her staring at my hands for no reason. She got all flustered when she saw I’d noticed, and yelled at me to concentrate on my work. I’m worried about her. Did that ever happen between you and your friends at school? Is this something that happens around our age? I know that mum said things start to change after you get into your teenage years.

Speaking of change, I hope I can get some new dress robes before I ever have to wear these ones. Do you think Bill has any old ones he can let me borrow? I don’t get why mum didn’t just remove the lace and change the colour. I was going to ask Hermione to do it, but I don’t want her to think I’m whining. I just wish I could have some decent robes like all the other boys have. I know money’s tight at the moment, but even the twins have got alright-looking robes to wear I’d feel a lot better if I wasn’t stuck wearing rubbishy clothes for once.

Apparently, the tournaments due to start tomorrow evening. Me and Harry did have a think about entering, but it’s probably too high security. Fred and George said they’re gonna enter, because they turn seventeen in April, so they won’t need to use much aging potion. Should be interesting to see whether they succeed. I just hope we get a decent Hogwarts champion; Cedric Diggory’s alright, but half the girls get giggly over him and it’s bloody annoying. Hermione says it’s because he’s a prefect, but she’s a bit funny like that. If I ever end up a prefect, I bet I wouldn’t have girls giggling and getting flustered about me.

Got to go now; Hermione said she wants to go over our Transfiguration homework in the common room.

Love,

Ron

 [25th November 1994]

Dear Charlie,

You should have told me you’d be here for the first task! I know it was secret, but it would have been nice to catch up! Glad the trip over was safe and that the dragons are all okay. That Hungarian Horntail was a nasty piece of work; Harry almost got hit by it!

Speaking of which, me and Harry are best mates again. I’m glad; it was miserable when we weren’t speaking. Funnily enough, he said he didn’t even need an apology; just told me to forget about it. Weird bloke, but it’s great to be friends with him again. Hermione got all teary and told us we were being stupid, but she’s never really understood things like this, so there you go.

Love,

Ron

 [17th December 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Glad to hear the dragons got safely back to Romania with no issues. I almost wish I was there instead; ever since this ball thing got announced, half the school’s gone mad about it. Everyone’s asking everyone to it, and I don’t get it. Why can’t we all just go as friends and have fun? But the boys keep going on about dates, so I said I best go with someone good-looking. Yes, I know it’s dumb, but how else will I get everyone to not laugh at my robes? I even asked McGonagall if I could go in my school ones, but she insisted that I use my official dress robes (although she did look sympathetic while she said it, so I guess she understood where I was coming from).

Flitwick’s doing alterations to people’s robes, but he was so swamped with requests that there isn’t any room for me to get mine changed. I swear, I can’t wait until the ball is done and I won’t have to worry about this stuff anymore.

I’d happily stay behind in Gryffindor Tower with the first, second and third years, but I can’t leave Harry in the lurch. He’s got to be there to open the ball, and it wouldn’t be fair to leave him on his own; the poor bloke isn’t good with crowds, especially since half of the school still gawks at his scar every day.

Hermione doesn’t seem to take much interest in the ball, so maybe she’s also planning on staying behind. She got angry at me when I mentioned about going with a pretty girl, which is understandable (it was a dumb thing to say). Hopefully, she’ll have forgiven me by the time Christmas swings around, and we can just go and have fun at the ball. Just as friends, obviously. Maybe if we’re having a laugh, I won’t have to think about my robes looking so awful.

Love,

Ron

  [27th December 1994]

Dear Charlie,

I swear, if I ever have to go to another ball again, it’ll be too soon! Hermione’s still angry at me about it; which makes sense, since I was a bit of an arse. But, well, she went with Krum! Seriously, he’s eighteen and she’s barely fifteen! Why didn’t any of the teachers think that was creepy? Why was I the only person who got irritated by it? Is it really so bad that I don’t want my friend being pursued by some creepy eighteen-year-old git? I know what the twins are saying about it, but it’s alright for them, isn’t it? They had decent robes and could actually ask a girl without the girl glaring at them like they’d only just realised the girl was a girl! Gits. They don’t get it.

Ginny had a nice time with Neville, at the very least. Neville’s a good bloke, and I’m glad he treated her well. Apparently, she borrowed a dress off a friend for the ball. I wish I was shorter so I could have just borrowed something off Harry; that would have at least made things a bit easier. Then I wouldn’t have already been a bad mood before we even got to the ball.

Seriously, I’m never wearing those robes again. I don’t care what mum says, I’d rather go in my normal school ones that those frilly disasters.

Me and Hermione are being more polite to each other than normal, which is probably for the best. I hate the fact that I got so angry at her, but I’ve learnt now to not act like that again. I mean, considering she got Krum, I don’t think she’ll need to worry about me acting like that again. It wasn’t as if she even said she wanted to go with me, either; how was I supposed to know? I’m not a mind-reader!

Hope your Christmas is going better than mine, and thank you for the burn-proof socks; they’ll come in handy against the Skrewts.

Love,

Ron

 [27th February 1995]

Dear Charlie,

It was nice getting some of the limelight for a while; everyone was asking me about what it was like during the second task. I even had Padma Patil hanging on to my every word about it; I even managed to apologise to her properly for being such a berk at the ball (she was my dance partner, but we didn’t do any dancing). She seemed pretty okay with it.

Fleur Delacour (you remember, the champion who used the calming charm on her dragon in the first task) is being very nice lately; I think she got the impression me and Harry helped saved her sister in the second task. She even gave me a kiss on the cheek after we were all out of the lake! It’s nice to get attention from girls for a change.

Funnily enough, Hermione get glaring at me for the rest of the day. Funny how it’s fine for her to get attention from boys (that creep Krum had her as the person he’d miss the most; they’ve only been to the Yule ball together, the pervy git!), but I can’t do so much as talk to other girls without getting the cold treatment from her. Barmy as ever, but that’s what she’s like.

I think Harry’s really happy about the tournament just having one task left; at this point, I just hope he gets through it with no injuries or anything. Poor bloke’s had another rough year, and I hope he can take it easy after this is all over.

I wonder what I’ll get for my birthday this year. You think Hermione will get me anything? She’s so irritable lately that I wouldn’t be surprised if she just gets me a card and some chocolate frogs. Given what’s happened between us lately, that sounds about as much as I can hope for.

At least we’re still friends, though. I’m not that much of an idiot that I’d stop talking to her over this. I almost lost one friend this year; I don’t want the same thing happening with Hermione.  

Love,

Ron

 [29th June 1995]

Dear Charlie,

Harry left the hospital wing a few days ago. Me and Hermione are trying to help him as best we can, but the poor bloke still’s struggling. I’m not surprised, considering what he went through.

Dumbledore’s said that things are already changing. I just hope he knows what to do. But he’s still saying that Harry needs to go back to the Dursleys this summer. I hope we can pick him up as soon as possible; Harry’s relatives are bloody horrible.

After the third task, me and Hermione stayed up in the common room. We’ve both said we’re gonna help Harry with whatever happens in future. She also hugged me before she went to bed. It was different this time. It seemed like neither of us wanted to let go.

Stay safe,

Love,

Ron

 ~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it!

[whump-town]

If The Lord Don’t Forgive Me

Bi!Hotch returns

I brought Charlie around for round two because sometimes you just need sweet, wholesome gay love. And it’s sweet baby (okay sweet like sour gummy worms but it is sweet and, hey, I cut the whump out just to keep it that way so you’re welcome)

There is cussing, the slight implication to sex (but not graphic and far more like “men sometimes have sex”), homophobia (I know, I know why can’t I let them live in peace?? but I have to get something out of this too and I LOVE angst), child abuse (ugh... :( sorry Hotch but if you’re showing that pretty face in a fic, I’m gonna bring up the fact that your dad hit you...), and probably something else but I doubt it’s that bad

Anyways-- cut to the gay shit but let me hit it off with some “Work Song” by Hozier because... I’m the author and I can do what I want 

My baby never fret none About what my hands and my body done If the Lord don't forgive me I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

Despite it only being eight o’clock in the morning, Aaron Hotchner feels today has aged him immensely.

The morning started with Emily knocking over an entire bookshelf. The decision to move her into his apartment was stupid and on a whim but he’s never truly felt the consequences of that until today. Which is good considering she’s been living there for nearly three years (straight from “dead” in London to living in his house)  but that is not where the focus should be placed. No, it should be placed on the fact that the crash caused him to jump. A normal, knee jerk reaction but not good when in the middle of shaving.

So, he’d come running out of the bathroom-- face stinging because he’s just jerked a razor across it-- to find the living room in shambles. Emily standing on the other side of the room looking to the point of tears but only managing the barest morsel of containment and Jack, school clothes covered in milk from his cereal, lower lip trembling, and little fist clenched for some semblance of control over the tears pouring down his face.

Standing there, the three of them each taking each other in, had felt surreal. Bit by bit, they all came together. Emily wiped her nose and rubbed the tear that fell off her face. She went to get him a band-aid and he went to Jack. That setback was only a step in the wrong direction.

Truthfully, that old bookshelf needed replacement about twenty-years ago when he built it. Its bitter fall was only a matter of time and he has yet to mourn it. The mess of the shelf was easy to clean up. He’d need to take the larger pieces to a dump or ask Morgan if he knows what to do with it. The books just got stacked on the floor and the wood splinters swept up and Jack advised to stay away from there until he or Emily could really go at it a little better and make sure there was nothing left.

The hard things came afterward.

Fighting with Jack to wear other clothes. He’d picked his current milk-soaked clothes out and Jack is reliant on a schedule. Changing clothes is a deviation and no matter how patient Hotch had tried to be, he was finding it hard to keep his cool. So he’d caved rather than lose his temper over something as simple as a second grader’s clothes. So, Jack went to school today in green overalls and blue rain boots that are a little too big. He’d looked silly but he’s seven so it’s technically still cute for him to do.

As for the nice cut he’d dug into his jaw, Emily had come to inform him that the only band-aids in the house are scooby doo. So, he has wood splinters in his living room, blood all over his shirt, Jack in poorly matching clothes, and a fucking scooby doo Band-Aid on his face.

Coffee is the only thing he knows can fix this.

“Uhm--” Leave it for today to also be the day he is confronted head-on with the very repressed sexual attraction he feels for men. “Can I--” his palms are embarrassingly damp. “Can I just get a-- a large black coffee?” The muscle in his forearm flexes and he can’t really force his fingers to grasp his wallet.

The man in question raises his eyebrow but takes the order. “Alrighty,” he answers. “Do you want creamer? Sugar?”

Hotch can feel his throat tightening in and his face heating up. Thank God he’s never been the type to flush visibly or else he’d be in some trouble. He forces his eyes on to the nametag pinned to the apron over the other man’s chest. Charlie, it reads. Hotch glances back up. “Yes-- Yes, please.” If he were a blusher, he’d be beet red.

Charlie smirks at the stammered manners. It’s cute. “You got a name, suit?”

“Ho--Hotch.”

Charlie raises an eyebrow at that but he’s not going to comment. It’s unprofessional and Hotch is more than likely a nickname. He lets it go. “Hotch” comes in enough that Charlie gets used to the strange nickname but to the staff of his shop he refers to the cute stuttering agent as “suit” and it’s easy to understand why.

“A-- A date?”

Charlie is gay but he’s not sure what “suit”/”Hotch” is. He’s thinking at least a little curious because getting the poor man into a stuttering puddle of anxiety and stammering is as simple as deviating from their typical “cream and sugar” discourse.

Charlie smirks, he thinks the stammering is cute. “Suit” is such a composed guy that it is cute. “Well, yeah. Unless the terminology has changed, yeah, suit, a date.”

Hotch’s throat feels impossibly tight. He’s aware of Charlie, very aware of him and his jaw and how hard the pads of his hands are and-- “I’m--” I’m not gay “Ugh, wh-when?”

Oh. Well, he wasn’t expecting it to be that easy. “Hmm, good question. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Charlie sucks his lip into his mouth, thinking. He snaps his fingers with a sudden idea. He bites the Sharpie’s lid off (the one he uses to write names on the cups) and hurriedly scribbles something on a napkin. “Here’s my number. Text me and we can work that out.”

That was… months ago.

Things have been steady. Good.

Pulling in a deep breath, Aaron Hotchner plunges his head under the luke-warm water of his bathtub. Goosebumps have broken out across his skin but the cold kills the ache in his overworked muscles. Besides, he’s entirely too distracted by two things: (1) he’s too fucking big to fit comfortably in this bathtub. Knees bent, his thighs are out of the water making this bath entirely useless. (2) The very unnervingly attractive coffee shop barista who’s shop he goes to, all the time. Who just so happens to be on his way over right now, for dinner.

“Wow.”

Startled by the sound, Hotch jerks and gets a mouthful of water and suds. Coughing and pulling at his burning nose, Hotch scowls at the intruder. None other than Emily Prentiss standing at the side of the tub, one hand on her hip, and the other extending a towel to him. “Emily!”

She raises an eyebrow of indifference as if he’s the one acting oddly. “You can hold your breath for an impressive amount of time,” she says. She moves the towel in front of him, trying to get him to take it from her. He won’t move his hands from where he’s placed them over his groin.

“Emily, get out!”

“Why are you making this a big deal?” she groans, rolling her eyes. “Hotch I have seen you naked!.” She puts the towel near the edge, where he can reach it without it falling into the water or to the floor. She makes a show of planting her hand over her eyes and turning her back. “Such a baby,” she mumbles. “What is the big deal?”

He ignores her.

She hears the water moving with him as he stands, large splashes as he disturbs the surface. “You’re welcome by the way,” she mumbles. She’d thrown the towel in the dryer so it would be warm for when he got out. Contrary to his dramatics, she does love him. He’s her friend and in the same ways that he takes care of her, she makes sure someone takes care of him. “Besides,” she says, turning around despite his disapproving huff of a sigh. “I came to tell you Charlie is here.”

Hotch freezes. Ah… that’s why she’d come in. That deer in the headlights look that she doesn’t see nearly enough of. It’s silly, if not endearing, that Hotch gets so nervous for these dates. Charlie is pretty clearly head over heels for him and it’s a little surprising. Charlie all bright and cheery, a hard extravert. Perfect, always early to their dates, Charlie.

“He’s early,” Hotch stammers.

Emily nods. The date is at seven-thirty and it’s not quite six. “He knows,” she informs him, settling her hips back against the sink. She’s not watching him throw on his boxers but she’s just… standing there, talking as he drops the towel and makes quick work of drying himself off and pulling his legs into pants. “He also knows you’re in the bath so don’t go breaking your neck. I don’t want to tell your seven-foot-tall, beefcake of a boyfriend that you’ve managed to kill yourself in here.”

Hotch huffs, rolling his eyes. It would be just his luck that he breaks his neck in here while buck ass naked, with Charlie in the living room no doubt. Though, that is a bit of a ridiculous thought to care about.  Here Emily is standing, casually watching him pull jeans over his boxers, having already seen him in his full glory. Charlie, even, has seen all of what he has to offer. He’s spent the majority of his life in the company of Jessica. She’s seen him in hospital gowns, bare assed which is strangely humiliating (and there’s the bonus of the repressed memories of Jessica catching him and Haley multiple times).

They’ve all seen him naked but that’s still not something he wants to deal with.

“You really do look strange in jeans,” Emily informs him as he’s shrugging on his shirt. Charlie had warned him against his more traditional polo. Evidently, he’d look like a “stiff” if he chose to wear a polo to the park. He shoots her a glare but it’s true. No matter how many times she sees him in regular clothes… she just can’t get used to it.

Charlie isn’t mean to him when he wears jeans though.

“There you are,” Charlie greets when Hotch steps out of the bathroom. The strange, beautiful thing about Charlie is that he doesn’t really care that Hotch’s life is crazy. He’d been unsettled by the grisly things that seem to occur so brutally to Hotch but he was quick, startlingly so, to remind Hotch that none of what Charlie had just been told sounded like it was Hotch’s fault. Despite Hotch’s swayed narration.

He’d thought it might be a bit strange to have Emily living in his apartment but Charlie also knew about the details leading up to that decision. The loss of Haley putting a strain on Jack’s independence and pattern of life. Being a single parent and a federal agent pulling Hotch every which way. Haley’s father, Roy, falling ill and commanding more of Jessica’s attention. Then, the fateful fall out with Ian Doyle, Emily moving to London, and the internal bleeding that had almost killed Hotch.

The last of which had been the end all be all. Emily came home and she found herself drawn back here by the less than stellar track record of her family. The abrupt decision landed her here, with Hotch, and it’s been beneficial for everyone involved.

Charlie feels a little safer knowing that when he has to go back to his own apartment, Hotch has his own apartment full of Jack and Emily waiting up for him. Even though he’s only been with Hotch a short while, he’s becoming more and more aware of the trouble that seems to follow his partner.

“Your hair is still wet!” Charlie kisses Hotch, fingers slipping easily through the soaked hair at the back of his head. “I won’t take you out in the cold until you’ve dried it. The last thing I need is you getting sick on me.”

Jack nods seriously hearing this. He’s seated beside Charlie on the couch, the two having been discussing superhero comics. It was turning into an argument when Hotch had come out (who would win between Batman and Ironman-- Charlie says Ironman and Jack Batman). “You can’t get sick,” Jack informs him firmly. “You promised you’d make pancakes for breakfast Saturday.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “All I’m good for to you people is my cooking skills.”

Charlie sucks in a breath, making a I don’t know about that, sort of face. “Just your pancakes, Aaron.” Charlie pats Hotch’s thigh the opposite of tender just downright taunting. “I love you but you can not cook or bake. You literally burn everything.”

The chorus of grunted seconding of that statement behind him feels like a betrayal but he really is bad at cooking. And math. And remembering general the most basic things. So, true but hey! “I’m going to go dry my hair,” Hotch announces, shaking his head. Sure, laugh it up now. They all need him. It’s funny now… brats.

“Get some gloves! There’s a wind chill!”

Emily huffs a laugh and Hotch turns around to catch it. He smirks at the sight of his living room, melancholy swelling in his throat. His family genuinely looks like his lesbian best friend, his ex-wife’s older sister, his son, and his 6’5 ex-college football player turned coffee shop owner boyfriend. It’s a little crazy and yet… comforting because at eighteen when he’d packed up his meager belongings to go to college, he didn’t think he was capable of having any of this.

As Charlie pulls him out the door-- hair dry-- Jack’s actively talking to them both. Something pointless but childish and so, by reason, very important. Emily’s reaching into his jacket and stuffing a pair of gloves into his pocket, throwing a scarf at his head. Jessica’s calling after them too and as soon as the door shuts Hotch pulls in a deep breath.

“They’re smothering,” Charlie informs him as they step off the porch. He offers his hand out to Hotch, scowling down at the icy steps.

Hotch hums in agreeance taking Charlie’s hand out of necessity for touch not help. “You’ll get used to it.” The implication of his statement comes to hit him centerfold but Charlie seems unaffected and Hotch is reminded that not even ten minutes Charlie had said that he loved him. “I love you but you can not cook or bake. You literally burn everything.”

I love you. I love you. I love you.

“Aaron? Did you hear me?”

Hotch blinks stupidly, looking up, and shaking his head. “No,” he mumbles regretfully.

Charlie shrugs it off. “I asked if you were hungry, yet.” Though a year is not altogether that much time, especially when compared to their ages, Charlie would like to think he has an understanding of Aaron. He does know that for certain, actually. He squeezes Aaron’s hand within his own and smiles over at him. He’s got layers, Aaron, and you have to pay a price to understand each and every one.

Somehow, that enchants Charlie. He loves it. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give up to have another layer.

“No need to pretend to be,” Charlie explains as they separate to get into his car. “You either or you aren’t. I just wondered if you wanted dinner now or after the walk.” Charlie wants his opinion. He desperately wants to understand what is going on in Aaron’s head. The thoughts he has when he gets silent like this, his restless fingers digging and rubbing.

Hotch hums, reflexively drawing his arms to his chest after he buckles himself into the car. He fidgets anxiously as he tries to figure out the correct answer. What it is that Charlie wants to hear. Charlie likes to eat early, that’s something he’s noticed. However, if Charlie’s asking him then maybe he doesn’t want to eat early. Would Charlie be hungrier after a walk? If they eat now it’ll be cold outside by the time they can get to the park. Then Charlie’s going to be mad at him because it’ll be his fault for having chosen to eat early and go to the park late. Maybe then Charlie will finally realize how stupid this whole relationship is, that he can do better, someone who isn’t like him, and--

“Hey.” Charlie doesn’t reach out and touch him. That’s a lesson he’s learned over the last few months. Hotch doesn’t mind physical touch but he’s easily unnerved by it when he doesn’t know it’s coming. Considering how lost in thought he just was, there is no way he would have seen it coming. “We can just go after, okay?”

Hotch immediately calms, “okay.” His shoulders fall from where he’d slowly, stiffly brought them up. He nods his head, looking down to his lap, while Charlie drives. He has to calm down.

He looks over, catching Charlie’s smooth movement. His arm is on the center console, palm up in a common gesture waiting for Aaron to take his hand. He blinks for a moment, mind slowly turning over exactly what this is. Glancing at Charlie, Hotch slowly lifts his hand up and shyly slots his fingers between his. Smiling when Charlie doesn’t even react much more than a pleased grin.

Oh, he thinks calmly. He likes holding Charlie’s hand. He likes Charlie. The way that he just fills the silence without ever expecting Hotch to return the vigor. Simply requiring Hotch remain engaged with the occasional hum of understanding or scowl of confusion. And Hotch loves that so much more-- that he never has to find the words to explain that he doesn’t understand. Charlie just knows.

“You can’t.”

Charlie frowns, turning to glance at Hotch. “What do you mean?” That’s where the compensation occurs-- Charlie is awful at remembering things. He forgets his dry cleaning, appointments that he set up, holidays, birthdays, weekend plans-- everything. Hotch seems to forget nothing.

Hotch looks out the window of the passenger side, feeling the cold seeping in from the door, but docile and contently closes his eyes to narrow his attention to Charlie’s thumb rubbing lazy patterns on the back of his hand. “On the twenty-third you have interviews for waiters. Your morning, at the very least, is packed.”

Charlies frowns, well shit. “You know,” he says, giving Hotch’s hand a little squeeze. “If you just came to work with me, I wouldn’t have to have those interviews. It would fix so many of both of our problems.”

Hotch turns his head, smirking at Charlie. Not true. It would fix some of their issues-- how much time Hotch’s job steals from them, Charlie’s need for more staff. However, Charlie just wants him working there because Charlie thinks Hotch would look hot in the apron (actually, he knows Hotch is hot in the apron).

They arrive at the park and the two get out. Charlie immediately regrets coming out in this weather.

The grass crunches under Hotch’s feet but he enjoys the way the snow muffles so much of the noise around them. Leaving nothing but the few courageous birds watching them from their perches. It’s a safety Hotch finds entirely enrapturing. Enough to not mind the cold at all and how Charlie’s been fussing with his own clothes since they set off.

Hotch is just walking along. His hands are cold but not enough to ache and with Charlie’s covering the majority of his right hand, he can slip the left into his pocket. It’s not until Charlie squeezes his hand to get his attention that they stop, that Hotch pulls his attention to his partner and away from the scenery.

Charlie pulls him by the lapels of his dark jacket, turning him so that they’re standing facing one another. The toes of their shoes bumping together. “Come here,” Charlie instructs, words a cloud of condensation around them. He wastes no time in pulling the hat off of his own head to pull it down over Hotch’s. Smiling when it smushes his overgrown bangs against his forehead. “I don’t want you getting an ear infection out here. Gotta keep you healthy.”

Hotch shyly grins, looking down at the ground, “I’ll be okay.” He still turns his cheek into Charlie’s palm, letting him wrap that hand around the back of his neck, turning his chin up to kiss him. His lips are cold and the tip of his nose feels frozen. “It’s not that cold.”

Charlie shrugs and Hotch doesn’t pull the hat off.

“You outta be disgusted by yourselves.”

Hotch flinches, recoiling from Charlie and bowing his head rather than to look up and see who it is shouting at them. But Charlie is not new to this little game and he straightens his back and raises a questioning brow. “Oh? Should we?” He glares down at the woman on the track, it’s clear she’d been running before she decided to come nosing her way into their business. “I’d appreciate it if you left us alone, ma’am. We aren’t hurting anyone.”

She scoffs.

Charlie stands still, unwavering. They’re big men. Hotch may be a force to be reckoned with but Charlie is not, by any means, small. They’re the same height and the woman in question is a petite blonde. They’re intimidating. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head disgusted but stalks off. Whispering under her breath about hell and how their time will come.

“What a hag,” Charlie grumbles, rolling his eyes and reaching down between them to take Hotch’s hand. He steps to move on but he feels the resistance in Aaron. His hand now loosely holding on to Charlie, fingers lightly hooked together. “Aaron--”

Hotch forces himself to take a steadying breath-- drop his shoulders, unclench his jaw, inhale slowly. His eyes peel up off of the ground and he knows he hasn’t moved fast enough. Creases of worry have broken up Charlie’s handsome face, tension that doesn’t belong there. “I--”

Charlie shakes his head, discouraging Hotch’s lame excuse. “What she said…” Charlie can’t tell Hotch that what she said shouldn’t affect him. That he should brush it off and not worry about what a small minded bitch has to say about them but that’s not fair. None of this ever really is. Not when it comes to Aaron. “She doesn’t matter, Aaron. You. You matter to me, okay?”

Hotch furrows his brows, letting out an aggravated puff of air as he fails to work through the shame burning his chest.

Charlie looks around them, tapping his fingers as he contemplates what he should do. “Do you--” How, in all of Virginia did he manage to get the one DILF, Unit Chief with the inability to make a decision or admit what he needs? He means it fondly, of course, but sometimes he’d like to lovingly shake some sense into this man.

Taking a calming moment, Charlie knows that his ability to play out this next scene is vital to his afternoon. If Aaron detects even a fraction of impatience, anger, or frustration he’ll shut down and then Charlie is going to have to spend days if not weeks working Aaron back to where he is now.

“It’s cold out here,” he states calmly. Aaron glances at him, sniffling and rubbing at his wind burned nose. “I’m hungry, I-- I forgot my lunch at home this morning.” Even though Aaron bought him a bright, hunter’s orange lunch box that sits painfully on his kitchen counter so that he has to see it. “What do you say we turn back for the car and surprise Jack with an early return? Order pizza? Watch some Scooby Doo?”

Aaron sniffles again, glancing at Charlie and then to the path they’re clearly meant to be headed on. “But…” he clears his throat. He can’t stand being like this. The anxious partner. The fucked up partner. He was with Haley. Now he is with Charlie. And, well, everyone knows how Haley played out. “You-- You wanted to walk.”

Charlie shakes his head, smiling and playfully poking Hotch’s chest. “No, I want to spend time with you.” Though he’s terrified Aaron will recoil from it, he makes the careful decision to touch him. Smiling when Aaron just looks back at him, searching for something but Charlie isn’t mad so Aaron won’t find what he’s looking for. He strokes Aaron cheek, “I’m cold. You’re cold. We can walk if you want but…”

Hotch looks back down the trail and shakes his head. No, he doesn’t want to walk.

Charlie feels pretty proud of himself. He’s pretty good at this.

And Jack is thrilled to have them back.

Hotch feigns hurt when Jack runs straight past him to Charlie. “Am I chopped liver?” But his light, fluttering chest betrays him and he can’t help a soft smirk as Jack holds Charlie’s hand. Charlie nodding, listening to Jack as he kicks his shoes off.

Emily appears at the mouth of the hall, frowning at the sight before her. She’s in different clothes from when they left. One of her dating apps having finally come through and delivered her plans for this lovely evening. She was just about to call Hotch to tell him she was going to have to call Jessica to watch Jack. “What are you doing back?”

Before Hotch can overthink the question Charlie smirks and motions over his shoulder, “it’s like ten degrees out there. Way too cold for a walk, don’t know what I was thinking.”

Good enough excuse for Emily, she doesn’t care. She has other things on her mind. “I have a date.” Both Aaron and Charlie look surprised. Which is annoying but she won’t engage them in conversation because she’s better than that. “So, I will be out of your hair this afternoon.”

Well, kind of. She steals some of their pizza before she leaves. Even sits down for an episode of Scooby Doo before her date texts and says she’s ready.

“Well, boys,” she leans down and kisses the top of Jack’s head. Wishing him a  good night and a whisper to make sure he’s extra good for his father when Hotch puts him down tonight. “I’m off. I will see you in the morning.” She offers Charlie a cordial head nod and Hotch gets his hair messed with as she passes.

“Be careful,” Hotch calls as she shuts the door.

It doesn’t take long for Jack to fall asleep and Hotch can feel himself slipping with Charlie leaning against him, his hand on the inside of Hotch’s thigh. Warm and comfortable, he doesn’t want to get up. But he manages to get Jack to bed with minimal fighting-- they agree to keep his nightlight, the hall light, and the bathroom light on. Emily even sends a text to confirm that she hasn’t been murdered by her date, he rolls his eyes but appreciates the sentiment.

It’s a good night, all things considered.

For a while, at least.

He’s in bed. Boxers shifted low on his hips as lays atop his beaten, threadbare comforter. The thick, heavy heat of an August night settling thickly over his bones. A blanket of sweat shining on his chest, just barely visible from the light of the hallway peaking into his cracked door. Downstairs, his parents roar on. He can make out every word spoken but if he hums just enough and presses his fingers into the thin mattress until it hurts he can numb out the world.

Nothing.

He thinks about Scott from his biology class. His booming laughter, already having hit his growth spurt and though only sixteen standing over them all in a man’s body. Thick with muscles that Aaron had felt when Scott had pulled him in for a tight, jovial bear hug. Perhaps he’d imagined it but for a split second Aaron had seen a flash of something-- warmth that he, himself, still can not name.

Closing his eyes, he brings back the heat of his stomach. A smile pulling at his lips as he thinks about how it felt pressed to Scott’s chest. Swallowed by the other’s boy’s body. The ache between his hips increases. It’s bad and it’s ugly but it’s Scott that he thinks about. It’s Scott that he wants.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Aaron scrambles upright, both hands planted on the bed as he scurries away from its edge and anywhere near where his father might be able to grab one of his frantically moving limbs. Still, a rough hand is thrown out and Aaron yelps in surprise as his body is yanked to the edge. He can’t hear the words being thrown at him, just looks at his drunken father screaming. Sees his mouth move but knows nothing of their meaning.

He’s wrenched up and out of bed, scrambling to keep up with the direction in which he’s pulled down the hall. To the large, cast iron clawfoot tub in the bathroom. He’s thrown chest first into it’s cold edge, his fingers wrapping tightly around the biting cold of the rim. He knows his fate long before his father’s broad hand grabs onto his hair and hauls him up just enough to push him down into the cold, soapy water.

His ringing ears hearing the slurs being thrown at him. Faggot. He screams as his father punches his exposed chest, causing him to gasp, the bubbles of air hitting his face. He’d used that word before. Thrown it at another boy the way rocks had been thrown at him for doing the same thing-- being too small, wearing weird clothes. He wonders exactly how it is that he can change because he tries. Good Lord, he tries so hard.

“Aaron.”

His vision blacks out for a moment and he’s lifted from the water. Everything feels strangely familiar. He can’t feel the cold water. Can’t feel the water dripping down his face.

“Aaron!”

He can’t expel the water in his throat. The hand on the back of his head tightens as water and his dinner come up, hot and wet against his chest as he’s moved mid-choke. His head goes under and he screams, grabbing frantically at his father’s hand on his head.

“Aaron--”

Screaming Aaron fights weakly against the hands touching him. It takes a moment for the uncoordinated sweeps of his arms to connect with nothing. For him to get a proper amount of space to breathe. The ringing numb of his ears slowly dies and he feels the world creeping back in around him. He blinks into the darkness, chest heaving  First, the dull clicking of fan in the corner of the room. It sweeps left to right, pauses, and comes back right to left. Then the hobbling, swinging of the fan above him. Cold air.

He’s not there in that tiny, suffocating town. In that too-big house with too many places to be seen and not nearly enough to hide.

“You fucking scared me,” pants someone behind him.

A large hand plants itself between his shoulder blades, the bed dipping as weight is moved across it’s top. His body flinches but he’s only minutely aware of the physical movement and, slowly, the rest of him leans into the warmth of the palm. Tears swell as he turns over his shoulder, eyes closed, and going blindly where he knows arms will enclose him. Protect him. “Charlie,” he finally recognizes. His face finds the other man’s shoulder and he feels, rather than hears, the sob that leaves his grimacing lips.

Charlie wraps his arms around Hotch’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

Hotch gives himself over, leaning completely into him. Gently, Hotch feels Charlie moving parts of him to adjust them back onto the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?” Charlie lays back, pulling Hotch’s knee so his hips cant against Charlie’s. The inner side of Hotch’s thighs lies laying across his. There’s no need to open his eyes, to fight. He knows he’s safe.

His tears have slowed but there’s no denying something big has happened. Lately, Hotch has noticed Charlie pushing for him to open up more but Charlie and Hotch’s childhoods are nothing alike. It’s hard to tell him about the dozen times his father put him in the hospital, each time with a better story than the last, and always Hotch’s fault. Had the whole town believing Hotch to be some miscreant kid.

And he was bad but not the sense that was ever true. He’d smoked and drank but that was small-town stuff. Everyone gets into that sort of thing one way or another. He’d had sex but no one he and his partners knew about that, his male partners, anyhow. The first time he’d slept with Haley he’d been proud to have fallen for a woman.

There was an old run-down barn that he’d take boys out to. There was one wall, facing the woods, that was strong enough to support weight and you could lean up against it. He’d been caught only once and the old farmer had beaten him with the wooden end of a rake. The other boy had managed to run off. Hotch’s pants had pooled against around his ankles and the other boy hadn’t taken his completely off his hips. That was a mistake Hotch only made that one time. Not that it would have mattered.

After that day, everyone knew what he was.

Which is what bred his nightmare. Though, that night had gone nothing like his dream. He’d come home with welts and broken ribs from the beating that old farmer gave him. As soon as he opened the door, he knew what was waiting for him. It was from the first floor that his father had dragged him, by his hair, to the second floor. Where Sean’s dirty bathwater sat cooling all afternoon.

But Hotch won’t tell Charlie about that day. It’s not worth it. So he changes the subject. “We need to clean the sheets,” Hotch finally sniffles. His voice is rough from the night’s activities and he remembers what they’d done before he’d fallen asleep and knows that surely did not help. Under his left hip, there is dampness to the old cotton sheet, like something wet has been drying. Sheets probably should be replaced but these are the back-up sheets and the goods ones are in the dryer.

Charlie hums, a vibration that Hotch can feel all the way down to his toes. “That would be your mess,” Charlie informs him matter-of-factly. Pressing his lips to Hotch’s forehead. “I did try to clean you up if you recall.” Charlie’s fingers have wrapped protectively around Hotch’s body, thumb lazily rubbing back and forth over his bare hip. “You told me to fuck off so…”

He remembers. He was still sensitive, shaking with exertion, and hadn’t taken kindly to Charlie dragging a slightly too cold wash rag over his ass. First of all, it was way too wet and secondly, it was cold. What was he to do other than protest?

Charlie’s chest shifts underneath his head as he bends to look at the clock. Yawning deeply Charlie pulls the blankets back over them both, rubbing at Hotch’s hip. “Let’s get some sleep,” he mumbles around another yawn that manages to overtake his breath. “Don’t be afraid to wake me up,” Charlie mumbles. “I want you to wake me up, capeesh?”

Hotch closes his eyes and turns a little more into the warmth of Charlie’s body. Trying to think of nothing. To slow the rapid progressions of his thoughts. There is no way that this was a good idea. A relationship. A life. He brought Haley into his world and looked at what happened. He’s a swirling storm of trouble, sucking in the best parts of the world and ruining them. He’s a liar.

“I love you, Aaron,” Charlie whispers, straining his neck to kiss the top of Hotch’s head. His hand holds Aaron still against him. “I don’t want you to be lying here suffering afraid to talk to me.”

I love you. I love you. I love you. That’s not good. It can’t be. He’s not worth that. Charlie is great. He’s gentle and he’s kind and he’s loving and Hotch can’t even decide when they should eat. If a walk in the park is better than a movie.

“You have not tricked me.” He wonders how Charlie sees so clearly into his mind. It’s not mind reading, Charlie can feel his pounding heart and tense muscles. He’s always so tense. “I love you completely, entirely, enchantingly by choice.” Charlie sighs softly. Content. He wishes desperately to bring Aaron the same peace that Aaron brings him. It's a content, pleased sigh that leaves his mouth and that confuses Aaron so much. No louder than a whisper, seemingly more to himself than to Aaron Charlie whispers. “There are worse life sentences than to be tricked into falling in love with you.”

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 1 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream? 

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox) 

Warnings: mentions of death, the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one. 

Chapter One

~|Emily Fox| ~

As a seventeen-year-old, you should not be left to your devices. Unless you have no other choice. When you have a dream your parents have called unrealistic without ever listening to what you were actually capable of, you have no other choice but to move out and fend for yourself. Thankfully, I can stay with Uncle Mitch for a while until I’m off to college.  Since leaving my parents’ house at fourteen, my life has consisted of high school, working at the music store, write songs – if I have the time –, help Uncle Mitch around the house, sleep, repeat. It’s been a chore. But I just about manage. 

“Please, don’t touch the guitars without a supervisor, ma’am!” I say loudly from across the shop as I catch her hands rising up to pick up one of the acoustic guitars hanging on the wall for display. I rush over to her, dodging clients testing out guitars and pianos I’ve helped before. While the forty-something woman stares at me with an intense glare, I pick up the Gibson guitar for her and hand it over, offering her my fakest smile. “This one’s a nice one!” I tell her as she handles the guitar very clumsily, nearly dropping it. “What do you know about guitars?” she snarls at me. “Well, for starters, I work here, so I’m supposed to have some knowledge about guitars. Secondly, this is a bass guitar. Never just call a bass a guitar.” The woman rolls her eyes and when she casts her gaze on the strings, I roll mine. I’ve had my share of forty-something old women coming in here to buy something for their spoiled little sons, pretending they know more about guitars of any kind, pianos and drums while I have been brought up listening to Uncle Robert talking non-stop about all of his instruments. He taught me how to play each and every one of the instruments and brought me into the world of rock. If he were still here, I wouldn’t be working in a music store, trying to pay for my own apartment or my college tuition. He believed in me from the second he heard me sing and play piano. He still believes in me, I can feel it. Staying with Uncle Mitch – Uncle Robert’s husband, now widower, has been a lot more healing than it would’ve been if I still lived at my parents’. “I know that,” she grumbles, then looks back up at me. “If you know so much about everything, you little know-it-all, why don’t you tell me something more about this one?” I refrain myself from rolling my eyes again, and instead ball up my fists to put all of my anger there. “This is the Les Paul Junior Tribute DC bass. It’s actually a tribute to the historic Gibson EB-0 bass from the late 50's, but with modern features. The short scale length is actually chosen by many for its strong fundamental tone and sits perfectly in a track when recording. The mahogany double cutaway body and maple neck with rosewood fingerboard balances perfectly when playing either sitting or strapped on. It's equipped with a single expanded range LP BassBucker pickup with single volume and tone controls for simplicity. The volume pot has a push-pull feature to coil tap the pickup scooping the mids for further tone shaping possibilities.” I’ve explained this many a times, so it almost sounds as if I’ve learned it by heart. “Oh! And it comes in four different finishes; Worn Ebony, Worn Cherry, Blue Stain and Worn Brown.” The woman looks at me, clearly impressed at my knowledge of the bass in her hands. I’m pretty sure I could’ve told her anything and she would’ve believed me. “I want to speak to the manager,” she then says and pushes the bass guitar back in my hands as if handling a cardboard box. If my reflexes weren’t what they are now, we would’ve had a broken bass and I would be the one that had to pay for it. “What for?” I ask, my anger slipping through into a vicious snarl. “Just because you learn everything by heart, doesn’t mean you’re a good salesperson.” I open my mouth to say something, but I know I can’t win against a Karen. So, instead, I plaster on my best fake smile and say “Of course, give me a second.” I turn on my heel and make my way back to the cash register to get Ash, my manager who’s been nothing but an absolute gem to me. She wasn’t looking for any employees, but still hired me when she saw how desperate I was and how good I was with the instruments. She even lets me write songs after hours. “Karen alert?” Ash asks when she sees my annoyed face, at the brim of exploding. “Yep, at the bass guitars,” I tell her and take her spot to handle a paying costumer. Ash hops over the counter and makes her way to the Karen at the bass guitars. Only for her to leave the store in an angered rush without any bass guitar for her precious son. “That’s 44 dollars and 97 cents, please,” I tell the guy who’d come in for guitar strings, picks and some polish. He looks about my age. Dark hair gelled back, green almond-shaped eyes and rosy cheeks. He hands me the cash with a cute, nervous smile. “Thank you! And here’s the three cents change,” I hold out my hand for him to take the three cents, but he shakes his head. “Keep it,” he winks at me before grabbing his purchases and leaving the store. Leaving me all flustered and blushing. I hate when cute boys come to the shop and have the audacity to do this stuff to me. UGH. “Got rid of our Karen,” Ash tells me, “You can get back out there. I think the little girl over there at the piano could use some of your expertise.” She points to a fourteen-year-old gliding her fingers along the big wing of the white piano in the middle of our store. “Hi,” I say as I approach her, making her jump slightly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Emily. Can I help you?” She scans my face for a moment, as if assessing whether or not I’m trustworthy. I guess she decides she does when she opens her mouth and four simple words flow out of it. “Do you play piano?” I’m a bit taken aback by the question. None of the costumers have ever asked me that question. “Yes, I do, actually,” I reply honestly. “I want to learn how to play the piano, but my mother doesn’t allow me. Says it’s too expensive. The piano, that is. And lessons are expensive too, she says.” She stops talking for a moment as if thinking about what to say next. “Will you teach me?” “Oh,” I manage to bring out, “I—we don’t really offer any piano lessons in the store. We just sell them.” Her eyes water and she visibly swallows a lump in her throat. “Okay…” she whimpers, making my heart break just that bit more. “Will you play me a song though? I love hearing people play.” I take a deep breath as I think about how to turn this girl down. But then I remember my parents turning me and my dreams down. “Sure, I can play you a song. Any requests?” I ask as I sit down on the stool in front of us, patting beside me to invite her too. “Surprise me,” she says, shaking her head with a big smile on her face. I carefully touch the keys as I think of a song to sing. Once I’ve figured that out, I begin to play the right melody and then chime in with the lyrics I’d written with Uncle Robert when he was still alive. The song I cherish the most and wouldn’t share with anyone. But this girl reminds me too much of myself, and I think she might take something from the message. “Here's the one thing I want you to know You got someplace to go Life's a test, yes But you go toe to toe You don't give up, no, you grow.” The girl looks up at me with big Bambi eyes, urging me to continue. “And you use your pain Cause it makes you you Though I wish I could hold you through it I know it's not the same You got living to do And I just want you to do it So get up, get out, relight that spark You know the rest by heart” As I begin the chorus, I hear drums backing me up from somewhere inside the store, and when I look around, I find Ash behind a drum set with a smile on her face as she helps me out a little. “Wake up, wake up, if it's all you do Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost, it's what you'll gain Raising your voice to the rain Wake up your dream and make it true Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost Relight that spark Time to come out of the dark Wake up, wake up” By now, Ash and I have gained an audience. Most of the costumers in line don’t even mind having to wait to pay until we’re done with this outburst of ours. “Better wake those demons, just look them in the eye No reason not to try Life can be a mess, I won't let it cloud my mind I'll let my fingers fly” The girl next to me still has the same expression on her face. Eyes pooled with admiration and inspiration. Exactly the reason why I make music and why it’s been a dream of mine to make a career out of it. “And I use the pain 'cause it's part of me And I'm ready to power through it Gonna find the strength, find the melody 'Cause you showed me how to do it Get up, get out, relight that spark You know the rest by heart” I go for the chorus again, and then pop in with the bridge. The one I added to uncle’s song. The costumers in the store stare at Ash and me with smiles on their faces whilst swaying along to the song. “So wake that spirit, spirit I wanna hear it, hear it No need to fear it, you're not alone You're gonna find your way home” I close my eyes as I hit that high note, then stop playing for a second whilst starting the chorus for the last time. Even Ash backs me up with some backing vocals after having heard the chorus a couple of times already. “Wake up, wake up, if it's all you do” The both of us pick up the melody again, putting more power behind the rest of the song. “Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost, it's what you'll gain Raising your voice to the rain Wake up your dream and make it true Look out, look inside of you When you're feeling lost Relight that spark Time to come out of the dark Wake up, wake up” I hit the last couple of notes on the piano before a roar of applause and cheers fills up the entire store. The fourteen-year-old beside me is clapping the loudest of them all. Her eyes still wide and admiring and full of life. “What’s your name?” I ask the girl, causing her to stop clapping. “Kayla,” she replies. “Listen to me, Kayla. Even if your parents don’t agree with your big dreams, please, never give up on your dream! If this is really what you want to do, go for it. You’ll find a way, I promise you.” A tear rolls down her pink cheek as her bottom lip trembles slightly. “Don’t give up, okay?” She nods her head vigorously. “Thank you, Emily!” she wraps her arms around me into a tight hug before hopping off the stool and rushing out the store. As I watch her run out, my eyes land on a guy. Somewhat my age, I think. I can’t really function for a second as his hazel eyes stare at me and with his mouth curled up on one side. When I finally manage to move again, my eyes scan him entirely. His brown hair sticks out from underneath an orange beanie, his nose fine and cheekbones defined. He’s wearing a flannel shirt over a grey muscle tank and ripped black jeans. I give him an awkward smile before heading back to the cash register. “Can you do register for a moment? I need to check something in stock,” Ash asks me, and I simply nod before helping the next costumer. After the fifth costumer, the boy who’d been staring at me before shows up in front of me. “How can I help?” I ask with my best customer service-smile. “By giving your number,” he replies coyly. I was going to give him the cute boy card until those words came out of his mouth. “Sorry, my number ain’t for sale,” I reply and look behind him, “Next!” “Oh, no, sorry! Uhm, I don’t mean it like that, I—” Before he can mutter another word, I interrupt him. “Are you going to purchase something, bro?” He opens his mouth, then closes it again, looking like a goldfish. “Uhm… No… I just—” I interrupt him again. “Next customer, please,” I stare at him intensely, hoping that’d chase him away. He knocks on the counter before moving away, clearly defeated by the rejection. I can’t believe douchebags like him still exists in this generation. People need to learn manners. “Hi, how can I help you?” I ask the next customer, bringing back my best smile. Just got to move on, just as I moved on from dealing with a Karen again today. Best way to do that, is focus on all the other customers. For the rest of my shift, I have not been able to shake the cute-but-rude guy from before. There’s something about him that haunts me still and I can’t seem to figure out what it is. Not even when I’m focusing on cleaning up the store. As I’m dusting the piano, I hear the bell above the door ring. “Sorry, we’re closed!” I yell without looking up from the piano. “Are you going to play again?” The voice sends shivers down my spine as it takes me right back to that one douchey line it uttered just a mere hour before. “Again, we are closed, sorry.” This time it comes out more like a snarl and with a bit of poison. The boy in front of me chuckles and holds his hands up in defeat. “Listen, I’m sorry about before, but—” he steps closer to me, but I hold up my finger to make him stop, and it seems to help as he simply freezes in place. “But the store is closed. Goodbye now.” I go back to dusting off the piano and wait for the bell to ring again, but it doesn’t. Instead, the sound of guitar strums reaches my ears. “You can’t touch any of the guitars without supervision,” I tell him sternly, but when I meet his eyes and they’re looking at me intently as if urging me to do something. “You’re supervising me, aren’t you?” he asks cockily, still stroking the strings, creating a beautiful melody that fills up my head. “What do you want?” I ask bitterly, looking at him again, and hoping it would make him leave faster. “For you to sing.” “Sing what?” He shrugs, leaving me to wonder what he means by that. “I have a lot of work to do, dude. Please, leave,” I sound pathetic, nearly begging him to leave. I’m only a step away from begging on my knees. The sound of the guitar abruptly stops when I go back to cleaning the piano. “Listen, I just wanted to tell you that what you did earlier today was amazing. You know, not a lot of people have the power you have. Did you see what you did to all those people in here? Imagine doing that for thousands of people! Have you ever thought of that?” I turn to look at him, suddenly having the urge to tell him everything. Then I remember what a douchebag he really is. “I don’t have time for this. Please. Leave!” I shout at him before heading towards the cash register to start counting the money. It’s silent for a while until the bell over the door breaks it. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. This boy did something to me without me even realizing it. Nope. Can’t trust boys. They don’t do anything but break hearts and be douchebags. But this one somehow seemed different. No other boy has ever left such an impression as he did. And I didn’t even have a proper conversation with him. I just hope I don’t have to see him. Like ever again.  

[all-of-the-imagines-for-eve]

Stressed and In Love ~ Paul Lahote

A/n: REQUESTS!!! MAKE ME SO HAPPY!!!

Request: "My god, I had this idea and now I’m hoping I can live it though your amazing writing! So Bella’s sister tries to talk Bella out of going to Italy to save Edward, when she failed she stayed with Jake so she wouldn’t have to be alone till Charlie came home from work. Jake took her to hang out at Sam’s and Emily’s with the pack, trying to comfort her about losing her sister. When they get there Paul imprints on her and it’s like supper cute and stuff ? This was super long but feel free to ignore!🥰" by @sweetkiitty

A/n: As promised! Sorry again that I took a while. I really do appreciate your guys' requests so much I'm just hyper fixiated on something else right now. Thanks also for your patience, and the love that last Embry request got! Love you guys :)

Word Count: 2500+

MASTERLIST

"BELLA DON'T!" The panicked, desperate words came not from the best friend that had fallen in love with her, but the sister who had cared about Bella far longer on a far deeper level. When Jacob had failed to convince her even after he pulled each and every string he knew, Y/n stepped in to give it a shot.

Bella's expression remained constant. Grim and guilty, but also a little panicked. "I have to." She struggled to find some way to explain it but came up with nothing.

"You have a life here," Y/n insisted. "Someone who loves you and will treat you better than a guy who's bred to kill you. You're food to him!"

Bella stepped away from me. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Y/n grunted in frustration. "He left you! Without hesitation. You told me he didn't care for you, and now you're going to prime vampire central because he's put himself in danger? Come on Bella!"

She shook her head. "He's doing it because he thinks I'm dead."

"He's doing it because he's a drama queen who's overly obsessed with you in the most creepy way possible!" Y/n argued.

Bella ripped away from her. "One day you'll understand."

Y/n felt her loss and stepped away, her eyes watering. "I hope I never end up like you, Bells. The way you guys cannot survive without each other... it's toxic."

Lost on what to say, Bella got in the car, leaving Y/n and Jacob to simply watch it vanish in the distance around a corner. When she was really gone, Jacob broke. Soft sobs came from him as he turned away, trying to hide his face. Y/n, completely understanding, moved to him. It was easy to forget when he was there taking up her attention. She rubbed his back until she got him to open up to her. He finally scooped her up in a hug, burying his face in her neck.

Y/n and Jacob were the same age. They didn't go to school together, but with their dads being so close, had been friends for ages. When Y/n had chosen to stay with Charlie and Bella with Renee, Y/n had quickly taken Bella's place as Jacob's best friend. They had both depended on each other for a long time, finding solace in each other away from everyone else. When Embry left, Jake came to Y/n. When he had a crush on Bella and she got with Edward, he came to Y/n. When Bella had decided to stay with their mom and Y/n had stayed with their dad and that meant that the two girls wouldn't see each other anymore, Y/n went to Jake. When her first boyfriend didn't show up to her first dance and stood her up, Jake had gotten dressed up and gone with her instead.

It only made sense that as Bella rode to her probable death for an asshole that was throwing a fit after HE left HER - rightly so might I add - Jake and Y/n spent the night together, cuddling and comforting.

Charlie wasn't going to be home for hours and they hated empty, silent houses, so they headed to Jake's instead. They stayed silent as Jake drove, moving inside with the same quiet. "Do you mind if we make a stop by Emily's? She's really good at comforting?"

Y/n was plenty aware of what Jake was. Y/n had actually found out even before Jake knew when she'd confronted Embry about hurting him and things had gone super south when she'd set him off. Thank god Sam was there to intervene. It had been a relief to be able to comfort Jacob when he'd turned too, even though she'd been secretly hoping he wouldn't.

"Of course." It was less that he thought she wouldn't want to go to Emily's and more that he was asking if it was okay to be around other people. Y/n had never met any of the other pack members. She did adore Emily though, so she didn't mind. It was nice to know Jake had more people who were much closer to go to for comfort, other than her and Bella.

There was a rule at Emily's: if you heard talking, come in. Jake knew how awkward I was about just walking into new people's houses though, so he knocked.

Emily answered, smiling with greeting and confusion when she saw it was Jake. "Why did you knock?" Jake motioned to me and her eyes moved. She nodded, her smile growing. "I see! And who is this?"

"I'm Y/n Swan," Y/n greeted, holding out her hand.

Emily rolled her eyes, amused instead of annoyed. She pulled Y/n into a hug and it was strong and warm and Y/n felt like nothing could ever bother her again. No wonder Sam had fallen for her. No wonder this had been Jake's default place to go for comfort. Emily radiated a motherly, safe energy like no one else Y/n knew did. "Now come in. I can make you some food. You hungry?"

Y/n giggled as she was pulled from Jake and into the house, her previous companion closing the door behind the two women. "Y/n!" Embry cheered, standing and jogging to her to envelope her in a hug. Embry had become as much of a brother to Y/n as Jake was. She melted into him and he seemed to sense her need of a pick-me-up. So he did just that. He picked her up, right off of her feet, and spun around. She squealed, cinching tightly to his body to stable herself.

They were both laughing when he set her down. She shot a wide eyed look at Jake, who busted up as well. Emily made a comment about being careful and not breaking anything, but it was lost as Y/n looked around to take in everyone else. See if she knew anybody else.

She did not.

However, her eyes seemed to graze over everyone else just to race to the moment when her gaze net his.

He was a little shorter than Embry. A little more muscled. He had a smile that made her a little nervous, a mix of curiosity and a little danger in his expression. His hair was just as dark as everyone else's, but favored a short hair style like Jake's rather than a little long and wavy like Quil's or Embry's. He was looking directly at Y/n, as if waiting for her to look back. And when she did, both of their breaths caught.

His face went blank and his skin seemed to go an odd color, like he was motion sick or something. His body relaxed. His grip on the fork in his hand loosened and fell onto the glass plate underneath, making a very loud clatter that made Y/n jump.

Everyone looked over at him. "You okay over there, man?" one of the other people Y/n didn't know asked.

Jake nudged her as Embry finally let her go. She managed to tear my eyes away from the boy - who was really pretty and overall nice to look at and also shirtless dear god why were they always shirtless - and look over at Jake as he began speaking. "So, let me introduce you to the gang. Embry, Sam, and Quil you know. Then we have Leah and Seth, the Clearwaters. You remember me mentioning them?" Y/n nodded wordlessly. "Jared is the one next to Seth." They all waved as their names were said, Leah settling on just looking over and then away. "And then there's Paul."

Looking back at him loosened Y/n's chest. She hadn't realized that it was squeezing when she'd looked away, but the relief now was indistinguishable. "Hi." She meant the word to be smooth and clear, but came out as a kind of choked off squeak.

Paul... blushed. Someone laughed and then everyone's eyes went wide and I felt like I was suddenly on the outside of a conversation I'd missed the beginning of. Someone else made a noise that was obviously a laugh being masked as a laugh. Everyone was smirking. Except Leah. She rolled her eyes and looked away.

"Hey," he finally managed. The room grew quiet, which was very unnatural for this group of people especially. Awkwardness and tension settled in as Paul and Y/n held eye contact for a whole minute.

"Okay," Embry sighed rather heavily. "Seth, move over and let Y/n sit down." Seth giggled before doing just that. Jake didn't help as I shot him a pleading look- Embry had begun moving me to the mow empty chair. He sat me down and I was burning with how close I was to the very pretty man who was still staring at me.

Everyone turned away, forcing sudden conversation that didn't include me or Paul. What was going on, and why did it suddenly feel like I was being set up for something? There was something in the back of my brain, just out of my reach. Something I wasn't really remembering. Something that would make this make sense. Jake had told me all about the wolves and what had happened. What was I missing?

I'm kind of disappointed, you know? But I guess it was more lucky that I didn't imprint on Bella than anything.

Imprint.

Oh god.

Y/n looked at him, feeling her heart beginning to race. "I-" He had finally looked at her as she spoke, food forgotten but obviously searching for something to say to her. Was this shyness usual for him? How were they ever supposed to get along if both of them were quiet and awkward? Y/n stood, her mind racing, and booked it around the other boys and out the door. Her arms crossed over her chest as she began walking home like the total idiot she was.

Behind her, the door closed. Then slammed open again. "Y/n! Y/n wait!" She turned as Paul caught up to her, almost slamming into her. The two were far too close but neither of them could gather the self control to move away. "I- You- I have to-" He grunted as he struggled to say anything.

She swallowed. "You imprinted on me." Paul looked up, surprised. "Jake told me all about you guys, when he turned and then Sam told him I knew. He tells me everything."

Paul nodded then took a second to think. "I know it's kind of sudden and stuff-"

Y/n barked a short laugh that made Paul frown nervously. "Ten minutes ago I was losing my mind as my sister drove off to go after a fucking leech. A monster from nightmares born to kill her, and a toxic boy who watches her when she sleeps and is emotionally demanding and exhausting. Ten minutes ago, my world was destroyed as I watched helplessly as the person who used to be my mom became more like my child after that same asshole ditched her and left her comatose for MONTHS and completely broken after she finally became responsive... That's been my life for- for forever. Bella. Taking care of her and making sure she's alive. And suddenly you're here and I'm supposed to forget how she's probably terrified and in danger and going to die tonight, all because a really pretty boy looked at me and his wolf shit kicked in and now I'm his or whatever."

It was silent for a very long time. "You're not mine, Y/n." He moved even closer, his hand raising to brush her cheek softly. "I'm yours." She swallowed. That was so much responsibility... "And yeah, it's a lot to handle in a short amount of time. I can't imagine- god I don't know how you and Jake don't lock her to her bed and kill that leech yourselves. How you can watch it and deal with it. I wouldn't blame you if you did, even though it's against the treaty or whatever." He rolled his eyes. "But the great thing about being my imprint is now you have me 24/7. If you're upset or in danger or just need someone to try a new dish you've cooked or someone to rant to or someone to sit down and binge watch a show with you so you can have someone to rant about it with, I'm your man. And as long as I'm not out there fighting someone or Sam doesn't need me for something just as important, I'm instantly available. No more coordinating with Jake and balancing with distance. I'm there and I move fast, so it doesn't matter where you are, I'm now with you." His hands moved awkwardly through the air, his words earnest.

Someone to be by my side... No matter what day or time or distance... Well, within reason.

"Wow," Y/n whispered. "That's a lot of work for you." Suddenly her heart was racing again. "I'm really hyper once you get to know me. I never stop talking. I'll bug you constantly, I really will-"

"Good," Paul interrupted. Both of them were getting excited. They were even closer now, as close two people can be without having to cross their eyes to see each other. "Any reason to be around you as often as possible. I'll take it."

Y/n licked her lips. "I know I said that I have a lot going on... but you're really pretty and very close and I kind of really want to kiss you."

Paul laughed. "Thank god." The hand that was on her face earlier moved to cup her cheek, the other hand gripping her waist. It started hesitant and soft but the second their lips touched, the kiss grew hard and his grip became rough and desperate. He pulled her to him and she was knocked breathless. Her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, slipping up to lightly grip the short strand of his hair. The kiss broke to allow him to gasp, sucking air in sharply with rhythm to the light tugs.

"Holy shit." They finally parted, giddy smiles on their faces and a shared sort of lightness in their bodies. "Do that again."

Paul grinned. "How about for now-" Y/n popped up on her tiptoes, quickly pressing her lips to his again. He jerked forward, deepening the kiss instantly. He grunted, pushing her back for a second, blinking to clear his mind. "I want to do that. A lot. But uh-" he inhaled deeply and then exhaled again, trying to stabilize himself. "You make me very nervous and I'm super not used to that. How about some food?"

Y/n's smile was soft and sweet and warm and beautiful. She'd loved hearing about imprints and kind of had wanted Embry to imprint on her. When he hadn't, she'd moved on from the idea and been perfectly fine with just chilling instead. But now... she was kind of overexcited at the prospect of being handed someone she knew would be good for her.

They were both excited about it.

The most fun would be learning WHY they were good together, though.

And they were excited for that too.

-

Forever Tag List: @bitchyseawitch @alexa-playafricabytoto @chipster-21 @captainxmikaelson @justanotherdaydreamersoul

[imthecaretaker]

My contribution to MerMay!

Just a one-shot featuring my giant orca mermaid, Charlie!  Injured somehow, she is a guest at a rehabilitation center while she’s on the mend.  She loves company, especially children!

Charlie lay back against the wall of the healing tank, her arms resting on the deck as she lounged, enjoying the warm sun.  Cracking an eye open, she raised her tailfin out of the water and regarded it for a few moments.  The bandages were fresh, replaced only about an hour ago, and due to be checked and changed at the end of the day.

Setting her tail back in the water, she noticed how big she was compared to the tank.  The end of her tail reached nearly to the middle of the concrete enclosure.  

Charlie sighed and closed her eye again.  She remembered bringing up the size of the tank when she'd been brought here.  "It's not nearly big enough," she'd complained to the head doctor, Doctor Rey Spencer.

"Charlie," Rey had laughed, "it's not supposed to be super huge right now.  It's a healing tank, for you to rest and recuperate.  When you're well on the road to recovery, we'll move you to a bigger tank.  But for now, you just need to wait, work on healing, and trust us."

That was nearly a month ago.  Since then, her injuries had been healing nicely, or so everyone said.  She hoped she was due to be moved soon, as she had recently started getting a little restless.  But, she thought, this tank has its perks.

"Oh, Charlie!" came Rey's sing-song voice.

"Miss Charlie!" called a chorus of several smaller excited voices.

The giant mermaid's eyes shot open and she gasped excitedly.  "Calves! Hi!" She broke out in a big smile as she rolled over and leaned down to see the group of children running toward her, Doctor Rey in tow.  As each child reached her, Charlie gently patted their head, counting them and making them giggle.  "Five, six, seven- oh?  Seems there's a new calf in the group today."  She smiled and lowered herself as close to eye-level as she could.  "Hello, young one," Charlie greeted softly.  "My name is Charlie.  What's yours?"

The new child, a cute little seven-year-old with dark skin and twin pigtails, shyly looked up at Charlie.  "I'm Keisha," she said, just loud enough for Charlie to hear.

"It's nice to meet you, Keisha," Charlie softly replied.  "Is it okay if I pat your head and count you in the group?  You can say no if it's not okay."

A few moments passed before Keisha slowly nodded.  "It's okay, Miss Charlie."

"Thank you, Miss Keisha.  Here comes my finger," the giant mermaid said as her index finger slowly came closer. It touched her hair with the gentleness of her mother laying a hand atop her head before retreating.  "Good job, Miss Keisha.  You're very brave," Charlie smiled warmly.

Keisha smiled back.  "Thank you," she replied.

"Miss Charlie! Miss Charlie!" one of the children called, pushing a bit to be noticed.

"Yes, Mister Mathias?"

"Look, I lost a tooth yesterday!" Opening his mouth wide, Mathias pointed to the gap where one of his canine teeth had been.

Charlie gave a soft gasp of concern.  "Oh Mathias, you need to be careful with your teeth," she warned.  "Did you lose it in a fight?"

Mathias laughed.  "No, Miss Charlie! It's just a baby tooth!"

"... Huh?"  Charlie turned to Doctor Rey, who was trying to keep from laughing.

"Human children aren't like orca calves, Charlie," Rey explained.  "They have another set of teeth that will grow in as they get older.  The teeth they have now will be gone and replaced, perfectly natural."  Rey smirked up at the giant.  "But your concern is touching."

Charlie playfully stuck her tongue out at the scientist, who returned the gesture, along with crossed eyes.  The children giggled as the pair continued to make faces, trying to top each other.

Finally, Charlie huffed, "You know, Doctor Rey? Someone needs to be a good example for these calves and it will be me."  Turning her attention to the kids, she asked, "Who wants to go for a ride?"  Smiling at the ecstatic cheers, she slowly rolled over on to her back and got as close to the deck as she could.  With careful movements (and a bit of assistance from Doctor Rey), the eight children were soon happily situated on Charlie's belly, cheering and chattering as the giant orca mermaid lazily swam slow circles around the edge of the tank.

After the fourth loop, Rey flagged the giant down and gingerly hopped aboard.  She smiled as she addressed everyone.  "Now feels like a good time to tell you all the news, so here goes- Miss Charlie will be leaving-"

The kids all "aww'ed" sadly, missing Rey's smirk.

"-leaving this tank tomorrow, and going to the big recuperating tank next door!" She finished excitedly, pointing.  

Charlie gasped and her eyes widened.  "Really?" She asked hopefully.  The recuperating tank was huge, the size of a small bay.  She could actually move around and limber up a bit.

"Really," came Rey's reply.

"Yay, Miss Charlie!" the kids cheered.

"Yay, me!" Without thinking, Charlie raised her tailfin and slapped it against the water excitedly, as well as wiggling her pectoral fins, causing her body to shake.  She quickly stopped, though, when the kids and scientist nearly lost their footing.  "Oops," she blushed sheepishly.  "I'd better let you calves off.  You're not prepared to swim today."

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

Dutch, the janitor, did his final rounds as he locked up the building.  The children had left, and the daytime staff were doing likewise.  "G'night, Miss Charlie," he said in his raspy rough voice.

"Good night Dutch.  Say hello to your mate and calf for me," she responded politely.

A nod and "I'll do it," and Dutch was gone.  Charlie sighed and leaned against the deck once again.  She smiled as she closed her eyes.  The visit from her seven- eight- calves was a nice little pick-me-up, as well as the news about tomorrow's move.

The recuperating tank, the giant mermaid thought.  Nearly the open ocean.  As she thought about going back to sea, a tear slowly formed and dripped on to her chest.  She'd miss her calves, she knew.  It would break her heart to say goodbye.  But, beneath the sadness was a glimmer of confidence and hope.  They'll all be useful, valued members of their respective pods, she thought with a small smile.  With that comforting thought, she drifted off to peaceful sleep.

[spencerspecifics]

Okay i got this idea while talking to @criminalmindsvibez earlier and I just h a d to write it out

Imagine: the team taking one of those “teamwork building” days during the fall and Hotch has no clue what the team could do together to build their teamwork morale because they’ve literally had to save each other from murderers in a time sensitive manner so like??? Wtf are they supposed to do? Solve a jigsaw puzzle? So Garcia gets the task of figuring out what to do and she decides pumpkin patch/corn maze because fuck it. It’s fall.

-they get to the pumpkin patch, immediately Rossi is like “I don’t need to buy a pumpkin. It’ll end up rotting on my doorstep”

- Garcia points out that doesn’t help the team morale so he better quiet down

-he shuts up, they get inside the farm area and the entire team is just sorta standing around cuz when is the last time any of them went to a patch??? They aren’t sure of where to start. There’s stands that sell apple cider and hot coco and kettle corn and there’s some hinky dinky country music playing in the background. It’s nice but they have no clue where to start

-Garcia decides to take over, because fuck it, she got put in charge of this, and Hotchner looks like a fish out of water. Put him in a beauracratic setting and the man knows how to operate, but this? He looks so lost, it’s almost funny. Garcia’ll command this group of idiot life savers.

- she decides the team should start in the corn maze, that sorta helps the team morale. They gotta find a way to get out, after all. Spencer doesn’t want to go in until he sees a map of it, though, so he can check where they are. So they have to awkwardly go to an employee and ask where the map of the corn maze is located

-Derek finds it in a pamphlet that the employee handed to him, he gave it over to Spencer, who gladly accepts it and stares at it for what feels like two seconds before being like “ok let’s go”

-even though finding that damn map took like ten minutes because the pumpkin patch has so many customers so employees are all over the place. So everyone is like “goddamnit dude” at spencer before moving ahead into the maze

- Derek and Garcia take the lead, Spencer in the middle, then J.J. and Emily towards the back, with Hotch and Rossi in the very back.

-Hotch doesn’t wanna have to take charge of how to get through the maze unless absolutely necessary

-J.J. and Emily just end up having some very much needed girl talk while Garcia and Derek bicker about which way to go

- “Get a babysitter so we can have a girls night” “I’ll do that when you call that hot british dude that you met at the bar last week back” “I don’t need him. I have Sergio.” “Cats don’t replace real relationships with people, emily.”

-meanwhile Derek and Garcia aren’t sure which way to go. “Let’s take a left.” “No, we just went that way. We should take a right.” “That just keeps us in the middle, doll ” “isn’t that what we want?!”

-Meanwhile, the entire time, Spencer has been thinking of the turns and loops and steps they’ve taken and calculated exactly where within the maze they are based on the map

-Eventually Spencer takes charge, after Derek made them take two dead end turns, “Guys- no, we’re towards the edge of the maze. The quickest way to the end is through the center, so we need to go back and take two rights, then a left.”

-Hotch and Rossi are just walking through in silence for the most part, taking in the scenery around them. The crisp autumn air, it’s nice. They do break their silence for conversations. They speak about Jack’s upcoming soccer game, and how tiring it can be to work with children.

- “I’ve never been more grateful that my three ex wives and I never ended up with kids- god, it’s enough going to see Jack’s stuff and help coach the team.” “You have no obligation to show up if you don’t want to, Dave. If it’s too much I understand.” “Aaron, I would rather get arrested for a murder I didn’t commit and convicted before leaving Jack’s games.”

-Garcia ends up falling back with the girls, where the conversation shifts to Prentiss talking about how much the corn maze reminds her of the children of the corn movie

-“ew! Why did you have to say that! All their parents end up dead! That’s so sad!” “Garcia, it’s the corn that reminds me of the movie” “Well duh- we’re in a cornfield! But don’t think about that movie. Think about something nicer.”

-Prentiss is drawing a blank on nice fall themed things, so J.J. pipes up with “what about that Charlie Brown movie?” Garcia points out that doesn’t take place in a corn field

-“well. Only corn field movie that’s coming to mind is children of the corn.” So emily continues to talk a bit about it to J.J., all while making Garcia want to run away because “Ew no it’s such a sad movie! Let’s talk about something nicer!”

-Meanwhile Derek and Spencer are solely up front, Spencer is using that big dumptruck of a brain of his to know exactly which turns to take. Derek’s just walking alongside him, trying to weasel from flirting into conversation casually

-“how about after this I get you some cider, pretty boy?” “Do you know cider on average has to ferment for fifteen days?” Spencer isn’t really listening, if that isn’t already obvious. He heard what Derek said, but he’s just thinking of every next twist and turn they have to take to get out. So he isn’t very conversative

-meanwhile the girls have changed conversation topics to what kind of pumpkins J.J. should get Henry (this conversation change was obviously brought on by Garcia) “you should get him a cute tiny one! That would be so adorable” emily on the other hand is saying to get one bigger than him “wouldn’t it be funny to have a pumpkin taller than henry?”

-J.J. doesn’t know which size pumpkin she’ll get for Henry. But she lets emily and Garcia sway her opinion in both directions, because a comically large pumpkin would be funny. But one as small as Henry would be adorable

-meanwhile the old men duo in the back are still just enjoying their walk. Hotch had mentioned how Jack would’ve loved to come to the patch, before silence fell over them again. Rossi asked a few moments later if Hotch knows if jack’s school would be taking a field trip to the patch, “I’m not sure. I’m assuming they will.” Rossi doesn’t say anything more, but he secretly plans on double checking that, emailing the school, and explaining that he and Hotch would like to be volunteers on the trip. He’d like to see that happen.

-Derek hasn’t fully given up on his flirting game with Spencer. But he’s holding off for now, as Spencer is way too focused on the maze layout. So much so that he started mapping out in his mind where the best spot to place a body would be as an unsub. “If someone was to drop a body in here- the ideal location would be the upper left sides second dead end. Geographically, it’s the farthest point from landmarks and least traveled area within the maze.”

-Garcia hears that and butts in, “No murder talk! No dead body talk- there is no dead body! Today is supposed to be a good day! Shut off your brain for one day, Spencer”

-Spencer doesn’t say anything more about the best spot within the maze to dump a body, though Derek is sure Spencer is bored and thinking out a billion separate scenarios within the maze. Mazes were good for hiding and concealing things, after all

-Garcia accidentally mishears Spencer’s directions of “turn left” and she walks directly into the wall of corn that the maze is made out of

-the team all stops for a second to help her untangle herself out of that before promptly laughing at her

-ok Derek and emily laugh the most, emily tells her to steal an ear of corn “It’s not like they’d miss it. It could be compensation for running into it”. J.J. and Spencer sorta stand there chuckling a lil bit, Hotch and Rossi are more like “as long as you’re all good we should continue on” but they had little smiles on their faces too

-They finally get out! The employees at the exit are like “good job, that was very fast!” And everyone on the team is like “thanks we tried” meanwhile Spencer is standing there thinking “no y’all didn’t I did it cuz I memorized the maze smh”

-the team stays as a unit after that. It wasn’t on purpose, but they all had the same thing in mind, the pumpkin patch

-they walk over there, it’s not too far, immediately Spencer makes his way over to the large containers of pre-picked pumpkins, gourds, thise tiny as hell pumpkins, those white pumpkins, and those red pumpkins. He’s one second away from grabbing a pumpkin at random from the container so he can grab a pumpkin and go, when Derek is like “Hey man what are you doing? You’re not picking from the patch”

-Spencer then has to awkwardly explain how the only times he ever went to the pumpkin patch was in elementary school before he skipped ahead grade wise and the kids in his class made fun of him that day really bad. Like they called him names and left him “trapped” in the corn field (tho he had seen a map and was able to figure his way out easily that time.) and so whenever he has to buy a pumpkin he just gets them from the grocery store because he gets anxious at the thought of coming to a pumpkin patch

-immediately the entire team is like “wtf man you should’ve told us!!! Do you want to leave??? We should leave” and Garcia is immediately like “Spencer I am so sorry oh my god I didn’t know” and he has to sorta awkwardly be like “No it’s ok. I wanted to come. I want to try and get a better memory than last time.”

-Derek pats him on the back for that, “You’ll get much better memories this time, I promise. But let’s get a pumpkin from the actual patch instead of from these containers”

- Derek makes it his soul mission to make sure spencer now has an amazing time in the pumpkin patch. So he stays with him the entire time as they walk around, inspecting pumpkins for just the right one

-meanwhile the girls are looking at the biggest pumpkins possible. Namely Prentiss, she wants to get a big one. “Can you even out that out front of your apartment door?” “I don’t know but I’ll make sure it stays until it rots”

-Hotchner is busy looking for a pumpkin he could bring home for jack to carve, though he does guess that jack would be making his way to the pumpkin patch with his class too. It couldn’t hurt to have a third pumpkin to carve.

-Rossi doesn’t want a pumpkin, he’s already decided that they’re messy and smelly and he doesn’t even like pumpkin seeds or pumpkin pie enough to warrant the mess of cutting and getting the pumpkin guts out. So he just stands and watches

-Garcia notices that immediately and is so not happy with that “you’re serious about not getting a pumpkin?” “I told ya” “ughhh Rossi- you could get a tiny one!” “I don’t wanna carve and deal with a mess” “you don’t have to carve a tiny one!”

-“what’re you thinking pretty boy?” Derek asked Spencer, who had been staring down the same pumpkin for like two minutes, which was definitely unusual. Spencer doesn’t answer, leaning down and picking the pumpkin up instead. “Does it have any abrasions on it?” He asked Derek, as he turns it over in his hands to inspect it. “Not that I can see, no”

-Spencer decides on this pumpkin, and they find some wheelbarrows provided by the farm to put his pumpkin in, they give Hotch the duty of rolling the wheelbarrow around as they meander away from the rest of the group

-Spencer then is like “oh shit. Wait Derek. Your pumpkin. We need to find you one.” Derek just laughs a little bit and is like “I’ll find one lol but you gotta come with me” so Spencer agrees as they go to find one for Derek

-Garcia ends up nearby the tiny pumpkins, deciding to buy at least three to litter her front doorstep with

-she is so distracted she doesn’t even realize rossi making his way over. “You’re right. Those ones are way too small to carve.” He says, she just agrees, “Yes, so you should get some!! C’mon. Get that festive spirit.”

-Hotch shows up pushing the wheelbarrow from behind, listening to the tail end of rossi and Garcia’s bickering match. “You should get some, Dave. It would look nice.”

-That makes rossi cave. He mumbles out a “fine. The things I do for you all, I swear” before picking two up and putting them in the wheelbarrow, next to Spencer’s pumpkin.

-Garcia is b e a m I n g she is very happy with the fact she got this fall grinch into getting a pumpkin. So much so that she ends up getting a fourth tiny one, because damnit they’re too adorable.

-Hotchner still hasn’t found a pumpkin for him and for jack so he’s standing in the patch, still surveying like a lost old man. Garcia and Rossi end up helping him.

-Meanwhile J.J. and emily are looking through the medium sized pumpkins to find something for will and Henry. “I’m thinking a medium sized one, because then it’s sort of a mix of what you and Garcia said.” J.J. explained to Prentiss, who nodded along in agreement.

-the team is all pretty quiet at this point as they try to find their own pumpkins. Derek finds his, a large one that’s very vertically elongated. He takes it back to the wheelbarrow, with Spencer trailing along behind him.

-Hotch finds two round, smaller sized pumpkins. And he decides that those are his, they look great and would be easy enough to carve, so he grabs them up, getting them back into the wheelbarrow

-J.J. finds a medium sized pumpkin for Henry, and two smaller ones for her and will. Meanwhile Prentiss is like “Hey Jayge that Charlie Brown movie is applicable now since we’re in a pumpkin patch” Garcia hears that and is like “y e s good fall vibes yes”

-they finish up in the patch, everyone putting their pumpkins into the wheelbarrow as they head towards the checkout

-Derek pays for Spencer’s pumpkin, saying it’s not a problem

-Spencer literally can’t stop blushing at that even tho it’s the most mundane thing e v e r and it’s adorable

-the team gets their pumpkins sorted and paid, before taking the wheelbarrow back towards the stands that sell cider and hot coco and kettle corn.

-the girls go off to get hot chocolate, Dave and Rossi go to get some bags of kettle corn, and Derek and Spencer go get cider

-“If you make hot coco with anything but milk, it’s evil” “emily what about lactose intolerant people who use water?” “They’re on thin ice.”

-Spencer thanks Derek like five times in a row for helping him get a pumpkin and buying it “you didn’t have to-“ “you better stop talking before I buy you a cider too, pretty boy”

-Derek does buy him a cider in the end, which isn’t any surprise

-Dave and Hotch argue over which type of kettle corn is the best. “It’s caramel, Aaron. Why on earth would cheddar kettle corn be good?” “It’s savory as opposed to sweet, it’s better” “That doesn’t matter if it tastes bad!”

-Garcia ends up coaxing the hot coco barista lady into adding a shit ton of extra chocolate sauce and stuff to her drink

-so much so that it’s literally too sweet for her but she dug her grave she will fuckin lie in it like a winner

-J.J. and emily immediately make fun of her, “I can see the regret in your eyes!”

-the team finishes up buying their drinks, pushing the wheelbarrow out to the parking lot.

-“See, not so bad for a team morale building day after all!” Garcia says happily, she’s glad her idea was a success

-it was. The team is happy, they got hot sweet drinks and bags of delicious food, not to mention a shit ton of pumpkins they shove into the trunk of the SUV

-Spencer’s happy he made new memories at the pumpkin patch, Derek was just happy to help build those for him.

-Garcia’s happy her day went so well, emily is glad she got a pumpkin to carve, J.J.’s happy she got good pumpkins for will and Henry, Hotch is happy that he’s not stuck in a stuffy office building in an uncomfortable suit talking about another murder investigation, and Rossi is happy to be with his found family on a day out

-it was a good day at the pumpkin patch :)

[one-million-medics]

i swear to fucking god im like cursed or something

every fall every fucking fall istg something or someone i care about fucking dies and im sick of it

i thought this year i would finally break the "curse" as ive come to call it bc i got through september fine but NOPE haha

this chicken i had brought up from the barn about a month ago bc he had a bad leg just. kind of had a spasm and he was gone. i dont know what i did wrong if anything, sure he was a little weezy this week but????? like he was still eating, drinking ,he even pecked at his mirror i gave him today, sure he was a little more quiet too but. honest to god what the fuck

last year it was a close family friend who had a sudden accident and died last october, hell i went to a memorial party for him this june, 2019 was even worse it was an unlucky accident with this little kitten that i had saved not even a month before that honest to god i still blame myself for and it still hurts to think about so i dont and my grandma the next month in november of that year (i had to go to her funeral on my birthday, i think she wouldve felt absolutely terrible if she knew that and its kinda funny and sad :)))))), and 2018 was the first year, i lost my favorite rooster sassy boy also somewhat suddenly and i still fucking miss him but like. at least i had a warning, he was sick beforehand, hell most of these i had time to prepare myself somewhat

this just. he was fine??? i was just talking to my mom about him and how he had been a little weezy but not like. that

i grabbed him and took him to the living room where my mom was (she was at least home so. thats nice i had someone to talk to immediately) and by the time i got there he was limp

hold on i gotta euology a bit

he was cute he was a little black and white cochin roo and i called him "cheeb" i was gonna maybe officially name him charlie, he jumped onto my desk a few times bc he was adventerous, he talked to me, hell last week he jumped onto the couch with me and pecked at my face (CDC says i cant kiss chickens, what if they kiss me?), he would run out of my room if the door was a bit open and follow me wherever i went. he was gonna go back outside soon but i kind of didnt want him to

anyways yeah i just wish one year i can enjoy fall and especially october and enjoy all the fun halloween things without like. having a nagging fear at the back of my head that someone i love dearly is going to die very soon and suddenly :))) bc i know curses arent real in this sort of sense but like. my brain sees a pattern and dreads its reoccurrance

sorry idk if anyone is reading this or even cares about what i post anymore (especially when i dont many original posts anymore) but man. i need to get this off my chest bc its been bothering me for years now and this has suddenly reinforced it so thank you for coming to the worlds saddest ted talk :')