#unfortunately I was alone in a room with my father and that um does not do good or nice things to my mental health

[donothing-nothingworks]

recovery isn’t linear but damn. It’d be kinda nice if it was tbh

[rosethornewrites]

NR, E, & M reading since 10/30

Finished

Not Rated:

The Untamed: With Nature's Help, by YenGirl (2 chapters)

A fun filled afternoon turns into something more meaningful thanks to some grilled trout, a thunderstorm and a cave.

What is 'white', what is 'black', by KarenF (3rd in a series, 7 chapters)

Lan QiRen learns that there is no clear divisible lines between black and white. The most important thing is the heart.

And, Wei WuXian’s Fourth Path does work splendidly in emergencies!

Explicit:

We can fix that, by Spindoctor (12 chapters)

Lan Wangji has an arranged marriage with Nie Mingjue. The marriage goes well. Then they see how starved Wei Ying is in the burial mounds. That's unacceptable. They take him home and fix it. Thoroughly.

2am on a saturday, by detectorist

“He’s so beautiful,” Lan Zhan says, tongue loosened by the weed. Besides, Mianmian’s room is his safe space. He can say what he likes here, so he does. “I want to know what his mouth tastes like. I want him to put his mouth on my—”

“No, no, no, no,” Jin Zixuan says, making an X with his arms. “For the love of Christ, keep it PG-13, please.”

—

In which Lan Zhan gets high, slides into Wei Ying's DMs, and somehow ends up having the harmonica played to him at 2am in the morning.

Wishing on Runway Lights, by inflight_gremlin (🔒, 7 chapters)

With the Chrismas holidays fast approaching, so does the storm of the century. Through it all, issue after issue, no one expected the little wishes made on runway lights to bring two strangers together like never before.

Or

Amidst flight delays and cancellations, Wei Ying finds himself taking care of a young boy left stranded at the airport. The initially unfortunate circumstances of their meeting would lead Wei Ying to meeting Lan Wangji, the child’s father. From then on, it’s a quick one way trip to falling in love.

Mature:

familiar motions, by moonxlight

Lan Wangji makes origami bunnies to cope with his emotions, in which he has many.

(Most of which are related to Wei Ying)

You Done Fucked Up, by enbysaurus_rex (5 chapters)

Jiang Cheng almost kills Wei Wuxian (again), but this time, he fucks up and it's on Lan territory. A very, very long come-to-Jesus moment, enforced by the Lan brothers and the Lan juniors.

the soft animal of your body, by howodd5ever

The problem was that he didn’t remember anymore why he’d left. Sure, something about finding himself or discovering his place in the world, or whatever other bullshit he’d talked himself into to end up in the middle of nowhere. Alone.

He missed Lan Zhan.

Wei Wuxian sets off alone after the events at Guanyin Temple and finds himself in pretty serious trouble.

clouds in the whites of our eyes, by butchgoth (GremlinGirl)

“About-about earlier, I…”

“I misunderstood. My fault.”

“What? You didn’t misunderstand. I don’t think.” He smiled, rubbing at his arm. The snap in the air was as crisp as biting into ice chips, and goosebumps were rising on his skin. “Uh, okay, um, this is really weird for me. I...don’t remember you.”

Lan Wangji slowly glanced over at him, his lips twitching into a frown. “What?”

“Yeah…” He tipped his head back, looking up at the stars. He’d always been able to see more when he’d lived out on the lake in Yunmeng, but the city wasn’t half-bad. “This is uh…”

“The doctors said you were fine.”

His head twisted, and Wei Wuxian stopped walking. Lan Wangji did as well, as if on instinct, and they stared at each other. “Yeah, well...I wasn’t. I don’t remember much of the hospital, but...I know what jiejie told me. After the accident...I woke up, everything was fine for about a week. I was going in and out of consciousness, but I seemed to be improving. But, then I had a seizure. And then another one. And another one. They took me for an MRI, and my brain was swelling.” He twisted up his lips, and Lan Wangji reached out for him, only to pull his hand back at the last second.

used to want you dead (now i only want you gone), by Ariaste

“It is not a coup,” Meng Yao says, which he has said at every weekly covert cheeseburger assignation since they began doing them. “A coup is, quote: a sudden, violent, and illegal seizure of power from a government. Unquote.”

“The HOA counts as a governing body. Trying to take it over is a coup.”

***

Two gremlins, eating cheeseburgers in the car in a parking lot at 1am, five feet apart because they're not friends.

Unfinished

Not Rated:

The Cultivation World Needs a Reset, by FangirlingIsLife

Do not succumb to anger.

It was one of the founding rules of the Lan Clan and yet Lan Zhan could feel nothing other than a cold fury filling his veins.

He watched as his husband in all but ceremony let himself fall to Jiang Cheng’s blade.

Even at his death, his soul mate would never raise a hand to defend himself against their tyranny.

Well fuck that.

i want to live a real life, by stvrrylost

In the wake of his first death, Wei Wuxian, the only child of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, had left his husband, Lan Zhan, a letter and a son, a small four year old boy, nearly five year old, to look after.

In the wake of his second, Wei Wuxian had left him a child again, only this time, the child was himself, nearly thirty years ago.

Explicit:

Now that I am awake, by jalpari

As long as the sea is bound to wash up on the sand…

and the stars are shining above…

we will meet again....

Or; the post-canon LWJ/WWX getting together and JC & WWX reconciliation fic I began writing long before any of my other wangxian stories.

The Threads of Fate, by WaitForTheSnitch

“What would you do if you could have him back?” Nie Huaisang asked him, a bit too seriously as he leaned forward.

“There is no way for a dead cultivator to return,” Jiang Cheng scoffed, not even willing to entertain the thought.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Nie Huaisang shrugged, “Even if he came back, that wouldn’t do much to help, would it? Your sister is still gone. His reputation still damaged.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” Jiang Wanyin growled, “What did you come here for, Nie Huaisang?”

“I asked you what you would do for your brother back,” Nie Huaisang started, “I would do anything to have mine back, Jiang Wanyin. And I’m here to offer you that same choice. Because our brothers’ deaths never should have happened. They happened because of schemes and plots. They happened because of lies and deception. Your brother was made to be a villain and was led to his death because he was too powerful. Mine was murdered because he stood in the way of Jin Guangshan.”

There's nothing Jiang Cheng wouldn't do to have his siblings back. And when Nie Huaisang comes to him with a proposal to save them by changing everything, he doesn't even hesitate to agree.

Mature:

You and Me (We Have History), by TheImpossibility

This was so typical of Wei Wuxian. He had an uncanny knack for being absent when he was needed, and present when he was not. Jiang Cheng wanted him to be gone, needed him to be dead —no he didn’t— but there he was, aimlessly wandering around Yunmeng without a trace of his memory.

It was maddeningly typical of him.

Jiang Cheng felt an overwhelming urge to scream.

我心中的恐怖；forever haunting me, by bonesbythesea

“Blood splatter across a snowy mountain was what greeted Wei Wuxian. Lan Zhan unmoving in Wen Ning’s arms, truly the jade statue he was described to be.”

Lan Zhan's punishment, but what if it happened way before the siege?

[twilightmalachite]

Altered - Angels and Devils 6

Author: Akira

Characters: Nagisa, Tsumugi

Translator: Mika Enstars

EN Proofer: PitXRoxas

"…I don’t fit in. I can’t align. I have trouble, and everything goes wrong."

Season: Spring

Location: Soundproof Practice Room

⚠️ This is an import from a unproofed Twitter Livetweet!

Reminiscence. Late spring during the war era, when Nagisa was a 2nd year, in the Yumenosaki Academy lesson room…

Nagisa: …“fine”?

…That’s, a musical notation. Right?

…The meaning being, “it ends here”.

…On the surface, it can also be read it as, fine (/faɪn/), though.

…With, so many possible meanings for the word, how will one know which one it was intended to be named after?

…“Pleasant”. “Agreeable”. “Happy” “pleased” “love”.

…Mhm. It’s all overrun by the positive meaning of the word, fine (/faɪn/).

…“His” true intention of its name, is the musical notation, as I had read it.

…“It ends here”.

…But then what is he trying to end, and why?

Tsumugi: Um~…Were you on the phone?

Nagisa: …Tsumugi-kun.

…Mhm. Hehe, I was given this thing called a smart fone, so I gave Hiyori-kun a call. I mean, called him.

…There are bunches of things I want to talk to him about. I mean, a whole lot of things.

Tsumugi: Erm. …But the smartphone isn’t turned on, though, is it?

Nagisa: …?

…So, I can’t do calls with this? I mean, make a call?

Tsumugi: You can, I just don’t think any call was going through. But, wait… It did seem like you were having a conversation like normal, though?

Nagisa: …It appears I was having a conversation with, an imaginary Hiyori-kun.

…That would explain why I felt we were having a more established conversation than usual.

…Fufu. Having spent too much of my time alone, I can’t, really tell the difference between imagination and reality, anymore.

Tsumugi: A-Aren’t you a strange one… If you’d like to give Hiyori-kun a call, would you like to use my smartphone?

Eichi-kun used his pocket money to give me the latest model smartphone, saying it’s for work. I’ve got to put it to efficient use!

Nagisa: …I don’t, really know how to, use it, though.

Tsumugi: Let me teach you then, alright? It’s easy once you get used to it!

Nagisa: …Why is it that you are so kind to me, like this?

…I still, I haven’t yet chosen to join you as a colleague yet, of fine.

Tsumugi: Well, unfortunately, we are already colleagues on paper… Eichi-kun had slighted you guys into signing the contract, you know.

Under school regulations and the terms of the unit system, you guys are currently members of our fine.

I’m the leader, but more like a representative in name only, while Eichi-kun is the real representative behind-the-scenes who does the money management and planning.

And as for you, and Hiyori-kun too, the faces of fine… Or rather, we want you to be our figureheads.

I’ve been working hard to gather as many people as possible to join fine, but you two are the only ones who can rival those formidable geniuses, the Five Eccentrics.

Nagisa: …I’m sure Hiyori-kun can be, although I’m unsure if I’d be of much use to you...

...I assume the reason I’m here is as a means to ensnare Hiyori-kun into the unit, once I’m recruited in... isn’t it?

Tsumugi: That’s not true~! Although you do lack common sense and don’t seem to know how to perform idol activities properly, your physical ability and talent is outstanding.

So much so that it’s comparable to the Five Eccentrics, if not surpassing!

You are a rough stone that will shine once polished. All we want to do is to help you shine.

In the current corrupt environment Yumenosaki is now, you will only become buried and rust. I can’t stand by and let that happen… It would be such a waste!

Nagisa: …Am I worth that high of a price, that you’re willing to pay for?

…No, that’s not it. Perhaps that is just nothing but sweet talk, in order to draw me into fine.

…I am not sure. Dealing with real people, is hard.

Nagisa: …It’d been just me for the entirety of my life. Spent alone, I mean.

…Staying true to my father’s teachings, I have been striving to embody the idols he loved.

…But, it appears that the kind of idols I’d envisioned at my young age, differ quite a bit from real idols.

…I don’t fit in. I can’t align. I have trouble, and everything goes wrong.

Tsumugi: Due to that, you’ve been labeled as a problem child full of eccentricities. If I’m being frank, that was my impression of you for a while too.

But I was able to understand after watching you. You hold no malice within you. You’re not causing problems because you want to.

You simply have trouble fitting in, in this reality.

But you are aiming to become an idol more genuinely than anyone else.

Compared to those of us already starting to war out at the age of high school… You are dazzling, facing directly ahead.

I really envy you for that, Nagisa-kun.

Nagisa: ~…♪

Tsumugi: ? …Why are you doing a weird dance all of a sudden?

Nagisa: …To show joy. I mean, to express my joy.

…Because, I am an idol.

Tsumugi: (He really doesn’t align with others, huh~. He appears stern and unapproachable, but his words and actions are somewhat innocent, with a child-like charm.)

(Will it be possible to turn such a child so distant from this world into a ready-to-use asset?)

(Eichi-kun’s behavior is so reckless too~… Why the hurry, what’s there to rush for?)

(Is he so driven by impatience that he’s losing sight of the reality of the situation?)

(Eichi-kun was born sickly and weak, so his life is uncertain. Just letting the problem persist into the future probably doesn’t seem feasible to him…)

(Still, I feel like it’s a bit too unreasonable… He was planning to set up a match in the fall or winter of this year, once the notoriety of the Five Eccentrics gains traction.)

(But I don’t think we’ll make it in time. Shouldn’t it be alright to just start next year during our 3rd year?)

(And instead use our 2nd year as a time of careful planning, as a preparation period.)

Nagisa: Tsumugi-kun, Tsumugi-kun.

Tsumugi: Ah, yes, what is it? I’m sorry, you went out of your way to dance, and I didn’t even think to stop and watch.

Nagisa: …That is all right. It is up to the recipient to decide whether or not to accept. The favor, I mean.

…More importantly, your phone has been ringing for quite a while now.

…Or, maybe that’s also just a hallucination of mine? A figment of my imagination?

Tsumugi: Oh, whoa, you’re right! I didn’t notice at all. I guess I’m pretty tired too, my attention span is a little low…

Wait, is this a call from Hiyori-kun? Oh geez, and this guy gets in a bad mood when the phone isn’t answered quickly enough, too!

Nagisa: Eh, Hiyori-kun? I wanna talk with him too, this time with the real Hiyori-kun…♪

Tsumugi: Don’t cling to me like that, Nagisa-kun! I can’t answer the phone, it’s too difficult to move!

← prev | story directory | next →

[laxyaklovesloz]

The Legend of Zelda: Real Courage 2: Dark Mirror | Chapter Six: Imposter?

"Prince Zale, it's time to wake up."

Zale groaned but rolled over to the side of his bed. Without opening his eyes, he sat up, letting his legs hang over the side. He waited to see if Salvatore had more to say, which he did.

"The guards have informed me there is an intruder locked in the dungeon. He came for the Master Sword."

Zale's eyes shot open. "Is Lila okay?"

"Yes, she's fine. She stopped the intruder and called for help. Then the guards had her go back to sleep."

Zale wished he could do the same as he felt weariness keep hold of his body and mind. Unfortunately, Salvatore still wasn't done.

The servant said, "Sire, the intruder is an imposter. He looks the same as Lila."

"What does that mean?" the prince wondered as his heart rate climbed again.

Salvatore shrugged. "That's just what I was told. You should talk to him yourself."

"Good idea. Wait, him?"

After breakfast and tending to a few errands, Zale and Salvatore went to the dungeon. It was overfull with the Gerudo women who had surrendered. Zale hoped relations with the Gerudo would get better soon, but these things couldn't be rushed. For all he knew, they could be plotting revenge.

Because of this, the intruder wasn't in the dungeon proper. He was locked in a private room near the entrance, and he was alone. He had no window, but torches lit the room brightly. The guard opened the door for Zale, and he gasped. As reported, this person, this imposter, could be Lila's twin. He hesitated until his mind reminded him to go in. He sat on a chair opposite the imposter, who was chained in his own chair.

The look-alike had a similar expression of surprise and confusion on his face. "You look just like her!" he started, losing his cool.

"Like who?" Zale questioned.

"Like Zelda!"

Zale's face hardened. "What are you talking about?"

The imposter covered his mouth and looked scared. The guard informed Zale, "That's the most he's said so far."

"Thank you," Zale said, "but I need you to leave. Salvatore, will you make sure no one can overhear us?"

Salvatore and the guard bowed and left, closing the door with a click. Zale turned back to the imposter.

"How do you know about Zelda?"

Now the imposter was confused. "How do you know her?"

"This is my dungeon. I believe that means you have to answer my questions. First, though, introductions. I am Zale, Prince of Hyrule." He hesitated, considering his father's words, but didn't say more.

The intruder lowered his chained hands to rest on his lap. He seemed to relax his defenses. "My name is Link. I don't have a title."

Zale nodded. So this wasn't an imposter. He thought of a possibility... if he wasn't lying. "Okay, good. How do you know my sister?"

"She has a brother?" Link wondered.

Zale sighed. "Yes."

Link looked around the room without focusing anywhere. "But we grew up together, and we've never met you. At least I haven't."

"Hold on. How old is she?"

"Seventeen, same as me."

Zale's eyes went wide. "My sister is only ten! We're talking about two different Zeldas!"

"We are?"

"Yeah." A theory popped into his head and he said, "Take off your gloves."

"What?"

Zale felt the Triforce on the back of his hand get warm. He held it up, making Link's eyes bulge out of his head.

"You have the Triforce of Wisdom?"

Zale nodded and put his hand down. "I assume you have the Triforce of Courage? And Zelda bears the same as me."

Link nodded. "How did you know?"

The prince considered his words carefully. "It seems, though I could be wrong, that there are two of each of us. Who holds the Triforce of Power?"

"Um, I don't know. Maybe Rova does."

"Who's Rova?"

"Our mentor. She told me it was time to claim the Master Sword, so that's why I'm here."

"Hmmm..." Zale thought in silence. "Does she have red hair and dark skin?"

"Not at all, well, some of her hair is red, I guess," Link answered. "Half of it's red and half of it's light blue. Her skin is green."

Zale was taken aback. What could that mean? Before they could discuss this further, Salvatore knocked and entered the room. He whispered something in the prince's ear.

"What!" Zale stood immediately. "Where could she be? She's not recovered enough to be moved!"

Salvatore said, "I don't know, Sire. No one does."

Zale turned to Link. "C'mon. Let's go find her."

"What, me?" Link questioned. "Find who?"

"Guard, release the prisoner. We have a hero to find."

[kageprountranslated]

Kagerou Daze Anthology Novel Ch. 2 - Locked Up With a Classmate

Locked Up With a Classmate

Author: Kōta (こーた) | Illustrator: Hanasaki Manio (花咲まにお)

The incident occurred only a few weeks after I became a high school student, in the season where the smell of spring still remains.

When I asked myself why it happened, I was so upset that I couldn’t even answer. The view outside the window is dim, and before long it will be pitch black. And on top of that, it seems that the electricity is broken since I’ve been pressing the switch for a while with no sign of it working.

……Why did this happen?

I held my head. Ahh, I think it’s pretty rare for me to be holding my head like this, but that’s how different the nature of this “current situation” is.

But it’s okay because there’s a solution. With my heart murmuring, I look at her, wearing her red scarf, as she handles her cell phone.

“Um, Shintaro……”

“Oh, are you going to contact someone?”

“Well…… about that”

Why is she avoiding eye contact? She’s staring with unpleasant premonition in her eyes. And that brief comment is all she said.

“My cell phone, I forgot to charge it…… the battery is dead.”

While pointing at her phone’s pitch black screen that she turned toward me, Ayano makes an awkward smile. And our only remaining hope breaks, making a shattering noise.

……Now, if you asked me what the heck happened, since I’ve calmed down a little bit I may be able to answer.

To put it simply, I am locked up in a room with my classmate Ayano Tateyama next to me. We are currently, in the present tense, trapped alone together.

Going back in time a little earlier today, after school.

Ayano had stepped up to carry some teaching materials to a certain room. Apparently it’s the job of Ayano’s father, who’s a teacher at this school, but since he seems to be busy lately, he begged her to help him and carry it. That’s why, today, Ayano told me she wanted to walk home together but couldn’t.

I had wanted to go home early, but I followed Ayano, wondering if she wanted me to keep her company. By no means was I plotting to go home together.

And now I was trapped. What does it mean?

“Ayano, you said your cell phone died…… But were you able to contact anyone first?”

“I tried to send an email to my dad because I couldn’t call him, but I lost power immediately after I sent it, so I wonder if it was able to send properly……”

“I see…”

A small room. Alone with Ayano. Unfortunately when I tried to ask someone for help, I forgot that I left my phone at home today. Ayano has her phone so tried to contact someone, but as she said, it seems the charge has run out.

“The teaching materials, I was asked to bring them and Shintaro came too.”

“Well that’s, I’m feeling this mood.”

“Fufu, Shintaro you’re so kind.”

“......I don’t think I’m kind.”

When I said that, Ayano slowly turned her face down. And while listening to my situation she lets out a voice saying, “Shintaro…… you’re angry at me, right?”

“Huh? We didn’t get into this situation because of any ill will, and I have no reason to get angry with you.”

“Oh so, Shintaro is kind after all!”

“No, it’s not that…… that, why are you about to cry like that!”

“It’s because of me…… uhh, my dad warned me about the door.”

Apparently the doors of the “Second Science Preparation Room” aren’t built very well, and once closed often can’t be opened from the inside. Ayano forgot to tell me this, and I, who didn’t know, closed the door.

It seems that this time they’ve finally decided to repair it properly but…… repair it sooner.

“We can’t do anything. Let’s stay still, ‘kay?”

“...... yeah.”

I couldn’t just sit on the dusty floor and next to the pile of cardboard dust that neighbored me.

I opened the window, lightly flinging it ajar, and sat down on the floor side-by-side with Ayano. We’re at a distance where our shoulders bump. ……It’s close.

“Ehehe, but it’s good that the person I got locked up with is you, Shintaro.”

“......Oh.”

I’ll reply curtly.

At this time I agree, It’s nice to be locked up with Ayano. But it’s embarrassing to think about, so I’ll never say it out loud.

And then I notice, outside the window it’s totally dark. It seems a lot of time has passed since I started trying to find a way out.

“Well, it’s getting darker.”

“Yeah, I wonder if my dad got the email…… I hope he comes to get us out.”

“Isn’t it a little too dark in here?”

“There’s no way to turn the electricity on. If we could get it on, someone even from a distance might notice that we’re in this room”

“Say, Ayano.”

“There aren’t many people around here, I tried yelling out a while ago but as expected it was no use……”

“Ayano, tell me, are you scared of the dark?”

“Hm? I’m not particularly scared of it.”

“You’re putting on a brave front! Look, let’s talk about something bright and fun!”

“......Shintaro, is it possible,”

I felt Ayano’s gaze with the words, “Are you scared?” My shoulders jump.

“I-I-I, I’m not scared! I’m just scared that you’re scared!”

“Then, let’s take advantage of this dim atmosphere and talk about horror!”

“Huhh!?”

When I turned to Ayano, her face was at point-blank range. She’s staring at me with a fearless smile.

H-horror!? Scary stories!?

“Well. One night……”

“Uwaaaaaaaaaa!?”

As soon as Ayano started talking, I raised my voice and covered my ears. I can’t deal with horror in this situation!!

“I-I-I I’m not scared, ‘kay, don’t misunderstand!?”

“What’s that!? Shintaro! There’s a figure outside the window!”

“Gyaaaaaaaaaa!?”

“Eh, wait Shintaro!?”

I think I was in a panic at this time. No, I wasn’t thinking about it. I’m in a big panic.

“It’s a joke Shintaro! Calm down!”

“Window!? Where!? Where’s the figure!?”

“That’s why it’s a joke! Uwawa!”

I was so surprised and horrified that I hid behind Ayano’s back. A boy hiding behind a girl’s back, there’s no doubt that if my little sister saw me right now she’d say, “my brother is pathetic,” but I guess that’s not the case for now.

“Shintaro! There’s no figure! It was a joke!”

“J-, joke……?”

“Yes, a joke! So calm down! It was just a fail at making fun of you!”

So I discover it’s a joke and finally calm down.

What a joke……!

“Ah, ahaha, I knew from the beginning that it was like a joke and I wasn’t surprised or scared……”

“Then why are you hiding behind my back?”

“Th-, that’s…… no just, don’t make weird jokes anymore!?”

Ayano looks at me replying “yes yes” from over her shoulder. Just one word.

“Shintaro, behind……!

“Uwaaaaaaaaaaaa!?”

What!? Is there something behind me!?

“Well, I’m kidding…… but……. Shintaro you’re funny, too funny, bufufu.”

Perhaps she’s holding back laughter, her shoulders shaking while she holds her stomach. But, in the end she couldn’t stand it and bursts into full laughter.

“Y-, you, I told you to stop making weird jokes didn’t I!? Don’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry! I won’t laugh anymore…… fufuhaa.”

“You’re laughing!!”

This is flat out scary without a joke. There’s nothing to laugh about.

“Ahh, I laughed. ……So, why is Shintaro still hiding behind me?”

“Eh!? No, th-,that stuff you said! Is it okay for me to leave now!? It’s okay to go, but…… there really wasn’t anything behind me!?”

“There really wasn’t anything!”

“Is that true? It was really just a joke!?”

“It’s okay! It was really a joke!”

“...... alright.”

Slowly slowly, take myself away from behind Ayano. Alright, it’s really a joke.

—Basasaa!

“Heee!? Ayano! Ayano! Something was outside! Something was outsiiiiide!”

There was a noise, and something big crossed the window. I buried myself into ayano’s back, hugging her instead of hiding, not so subtle this time.

“...... I think it was just a bird this time…… Shintaro? Are you okay?”

“I’m not okay! This isn’t fun anymore! I’m scared! It’s terrible!!”

“No way Shintaro was so scared……”

Ayano took my hand that hugged her and asked, “are you okay?” as she gently stroked it. But I immediately shake my hand and let go of Ayano. As usual I shook her off.

Ahh, I’m sure I have a real pathetic facial expression now. I don’t want Ayano to see me like this.

“It’s okay. Because I’m by Shintaro’s side, forever.”

“So rest assured, I’m not scared,” she said with a smile.

“...... Ayano…… aren’t you scared?”

“I guess if I’m feeling anything, it’s scared. But somehow it’s okay since I’m with you, Shintaro. Ah, is my feeling of wanting to protect scaredy-Shintaro overpowering it now?”

What she says is alleviating my fear.

“Wait a minute, I’m only scared because you’ve been saying weird things…… No, I’m not scared, I’m absolutely not scared.”

*“I’m sorry about that, I’m scared that Shintaro is cute.”

“That’s why I’m not scared and don’t tell a man he’s cute!”

“Now, that’s not right! I wasn’t saying that! I said ‘scared’!”

(*Translator’s note: Shintaro believed Ayano said she was scared he was cute but she is saying that she said she was scared he was scared. In Japanese the words “cute” and “scary” sound similar, being “kawaii” and “kowai”)

“Ah, that’s…… Just my imagination, it was in my imagination! W-, well it can’t be helped, so it’s okay to be protected only for today! But I’m not particularly scared!”

“Good grief, Shintaro, you're really not straightforward.”

As she says that, she looks up at my face from below.

“Sh-, shut up! Only today, only today I’ll protect you, that is, you, Ayano.”

“Eh? Shintaro, what?”

“A-, Ayano, what if you were also having a hard time? If I can do it…… I’ll help you.”

Why did I say that?

When I heard that Ayano wanted to protect me, I wondered if I could do something for her too. My words were very small, but Ayano seemed to hear them. She very happily said, “it’s rare for Shintaro to be defeated.” ……I’m not defeated.

“That’s right.”

After thinking for a moment she muttered, “I don’t want to involve someone who’s important to me if it’s dangerous,” with a serious look on her face.

Ahh, she’s that kind of person. Worrying more about others than herself. “Because it’s my happiness,” I remember her saying once while laughing, so you really……

“But thank you Shintaro, I’m happy with those words alone.”

“Th-, that’s right.”

“Then, I have your permission, Shintaro. Only today I’ll be a hero for Shintaro!”

“Have it your way.”

“Hey, Shintaro.”

“What is it?”

“When you’re scared or lonely, you can hold my hand.”

“Huh? What’s that—......”

As if to block my words, the window shakes greatly. Apparently the wind is getting stronger. Of course, my body reacts to such a noise.

“Uh……. uh, Ayanoo.”

Now, please commend me for not screaming this time.

“Shintaro, your hand.”

“......”

“Shintaro, hand.”

“......”

“Shintaro, hand!”

“What about your hand!? Should I just hold it!?”

I grabbed Ayano’s hand tightly. It was warm.

“Whenever you feel alone and lonely, hold my hand anytime.”

Those words, what kind of meaning do they have?

With a little thought, I shook my head. I shook my head to deny Ayano’s words. When Ayano looked at me she looked lonely.

“I…… can’t you rely on me?”

“That’s not it. …… just.”

“Just?”

Ayano tilts her head. I turned away from her.

“...... It’s because I’m a coward.”

Isolated words, I muttered in a very quiet voice.

—......It must have been a long time since we got trapped.

Still, there was no sign of help coming at all. What should I do? I was hungry and I wanted to take a bath.

“Achuu”

It was me who had such a small sneeze. As the window rattles, the wind seems to be strong outside. It’s chilly and I brace my body, as a scarf is wrapped around my neck gently.

“Ayano?”

“Fufu, isn’t it cold with this?”

Certainly not cold, but rather warm. But, this is……

“You’re cold right? Take it back.”

“That’s not good, you’re catching a cold Shintaro.”

“If you say that, what if you catch a cold instead!?”

“Fufu, thanks for worrying about me.”

“A-, also…… I-, I’m returning it anyway!”

I push the red scarf back to Ayano, but she totally refuses to take it. And suddenly, Ayano says, “ah, let’s wear it together!” which makes me jump.

Wear it…… together?

“Huh? What are you……!?”

When I realized the scarf was around my neck again, it was also around Ayano’s neck.

Wa-, wait one minute, two people wearing it together is the kind of thing that—!?

Two people and one scarf. Ayano’s body and face are clinging very closely to mine. It’s definitely warmer than before, but this is……!

“I need to move away from you!”

“Why? Isn’t it warm?”

“That’s not the problem!”

“So what’s the problem?”

“J-, just think for yourself!”

“Hmm—? Shintaro, you’re acting strange, aren’t you?”

“Shh-, sh, shut upp.”

I move my arm to untie the scarf, but when I do I hear the sound of my clothes and Ayano’s clothes rubbing together. I can’t move my body because I’m in such close contact with Ayano.

“Shintaro.”

“What?”

“If I’m asking you to wear it because you’re cold, I’m not wrong am I?”

I’m cold too. If anything, I want to wear the scarf exactly how it is.

“......I-, it can’t be helped. If you say it like that.”

“Fufu, thank you.”

It was in this way, we agreed to share one scarf. But, although we’re no longer cold, our current situation of being trapped remains the same.

“Ayano, are you okay? If you’re getting sleepy, do you want to sleep?”

“Yeah, maybe I’m a little sleepy…. Ah, maybe I should borrow Shintaro’s shoulders.”

“O-, oh. I understand.”

“Ehehee.”

Ayano rests her head on my shoulder.

“...... hey, Shintaro.”

With her face down and eyes closed, Ayano gently says my name. It was a small voice, but we’re so close together that I could clearly see she was saying my name.

“Hmm?”

“...... you called yourself a coward, what do you mean by that?”

I’m surprised. After saying “It’s because I’m a coward” Ayano had shut up. I thought she couldn’t hear me because I muttered it in such a quiet voice, but it seems to have reached her ears after all.

It’s regretfully too late to pretend I didn't say it. She already heard.

“That is…… that’s nothing, so forget about it. I’m a little upset.”

“I will never forget. I will absolutely never forget.”

Her crying voice spilled from her mouth. Why is she making a voice like that?

And this time from Ayano…… and almost every time words from Ayano, she clenched my hand tightly.

“Ayano, hand.”

“I don’t like it, I don’t want to let go.”

“Ayano?”

“I want you to tell me more about your true feelings, Shintaro.”

“...... what if I say I don’t like it?”

She raised her face. She looked like she was about to cry.

Ahh, this face isn’t going to be forgotten…… I think.

“That is, very sad.”

Still, I can’t say it, won’t say it. I’m too much of a coward to say my true feelings.

But the truth is, I want to tell Ayano everything. I don’t like being alone, and when I end up feeling lonely like I always used to, Ayano will accept me with a smile. But if that happens, I’ll become dependent on Ayano, and if I’m too dependent, I’m so scared that someday it will be time to say goodbye to each other.

Oh I’m really a terrible coward.

“I’m begging you, don’t worry about me.”

Don’t say any more kind words.

Once I depend on you, I can’t live without you.

“Shintaro, I want you to remember what I’m about to say.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

I shake my head from side to side, like a little kid.

“Shintaro, listen?”

Ayano moves up a little and looks into my face from below.

“I don’t like it.”

I bury my face in the scarf. It smells like Ayano.

“Even if Shintaro lets go of this hand.”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

“I’m going to grab Shintaro’s hand as many times as I want!”

“Even if, this makes me look stubborn,” Ayano said such warm words with a smile.

“Aya-, nno……”

Ayano’s words alone makes me feel like I am overflowing. My whole body gets hot. My eyes get hot.

You see, I shouldn’t have listened. I didn’t want to listen because I thought she would say something happy to me, and of course she did. Why does she say such words to me? She’ll be taken advantage of for her kindness.

“Don’t say that kind of thing so casually.”

Everyone will eventually leave me. Seeing me, who can immediately derive the answer to any question; seeing me, who understands it all; even kind people will also leave me. And everyone looks at me with weird eyes.

Even Ayano, I’m sure just like everyone else……

“It’s not casual! Because Shintaro, I want to be with you forever!”

“Th-, that’s why…!”

“Shintaro, that’s why.”

I notice there. Ayano’s aura seems to be different than usual.

“Ayano, what are you saying……?”

“Shintaro, you’re insensitive to people’s feelings while saying that you understand everything. I’ll be with you, really.”

While holding her head, she mutters out something like a soliloquy.

Insensitive? Am I?

“I mean, I want to be with you forever.”

Ayano mumbled, a little embarrassed.

“It’s because Shintaro, I want to be with you forever.”

Ayano seems to be trying to say something about the meaning of the words she said. I’m sure since it’s Ayano, she’s giving me these words as a friend……

“That’s it, Shintaro.”

“What’s it?”

“Um…… the words I just said, I didn’t mean it in a friendship way.”

My idea that those were the words of a friend, were denied by her herself.

“Shintaro, Shintaro for me, is more than a friend.”

She stares at me. Ayano’s face is close. I find my heart is making a loud noise. I’m distracted by our close distance, I didn’t hear Ayano’s words well.

“For me, about Shintaro—......!”

It was at that time.

Tattattattatto, the sound of someone running echoes through the school.

Ayano’s word’s stopped halfway through the sound that I heard clearly.

“...... Shintaro, can you hear someone running?”

“I-, I-, I don’t care.”

A person of unknown character is running. I was so scared that my remaining determination was gnawed away. I forget about being embarrassed for now.

“I don’t think it’s my imagination.”

“What if it isn’t our imaginations!? Who’s running at this hour!? I-, isn’t it coming this way!? Uwaaaaaaaaa!”

“Shintaro!? Calm down a little, Shintaro! Awawawa!”

Who is running through the school at such an hour? Why would they need to run?

No way, no way could this be something paranormal……!?

“Ayano, I’m so scared that even you can’t help me! Hey, why are you so calm!?”

“I’m not really, but if I’m with people who are more scared than I am, I will keep calm……”

“Ayano, I’m certain the footsteps are coming this way!”

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped right in front of the door where we were trapped.

It’s over. They’ve come to take us from this world.

“Ayanooo!”

At this time, I couldn’t hear Ayano’s voice saying, “I wonder if someone came to help us?” I couldn’t think of such an idea at all. Losing my composure, I squeezed Ayano’s hand, which had been linked with mine for so long, with so much fear.

And, the door was opened.

“Hey, are you okay, Ayano!? I’m sorry I didn’t notice the email! It seems that the power was cut off this morning, so I just noticed……”

It was a man’s voice that I heard.

“Ah, Dad.”

As soon as I heard Ayano’s words, I felt frozen in place.

Think about it. This is a closed room, and we’re alone together, right now I’m wearing the scarf (two people sharing one scarf) with Ayano and holding hands together…… yeah, it’s no wonder that a misunderstanding would arise.

“What are you doing with Ayano, Shintaro Kisaragi?”

Did he ask that as a teacher, or as Ayano’s father? I immediately tried to get away from Ayano, but realized I couldn’t because I was wearing the scarf.

I move my arm to untie the scarf.

“You will not move without my permission, Shintaro Kisaragi.”

Yes, I understand not to move, not to move, so don’t make such a scary face, dad.

“Dad, it’s late! I was glad Shintaro was with me, and we can go home now!”

Ayano’s reassuring voice brought relief.

Ayano, look at your father's face because it’s not okay at all. I think I’ll be taken out of the world after all. “What were you doing in a closed room with Ayano? Answer quickly, Shintaro Kisaragi,” he says while glaring at me. Why are you calling me by my full name when we’ve known each other for a while!?

“Ah, it was a little cold so the two of us just warmed up together! Don’t get it twisted, Dad!”

I feel my face get hot as soon as I hear the words “the two of us warmed up”.

Certainly not wrong, not wrong, but……!

“Ayano, what are you saying……g! I’ve gotta ask you to be quiet for a minute! Stop saying weird things!!”

No matter what I say, Ayano doesn’t seem to understand the pinch we’re in as she replies, “I’m not saying anything strange,” with a question mark floating above her head.

…… and, why is her dad smiling so big?

“It was courageous to try to abandon my daughter in front of me without my permission, Shintaro Kisaragi. Now untie the scarf, stand in place, and raise both of your arms, Shintaro Kisaragi.”

Those words, I’ll just say I’ve never heard such a ridiculously dark voice.

In the end, I didn’t realize at that time that it would take a week to get rid of the misunderstanding of the situation.

And I was able to escape from the locked room safely (......it’s a miracle that I was able to survive that father though.) My mother, who was worried about me being home too late, and my sister, who was also worried said:

“My big brother is an idiot! I called your cell phone so many times!”

I’m at your mercy. I’m sorry little sis, that cell phone is in your big brother’s room.

In this way, the day Ayano and I had finally came to an end.

Well, I have an excellent memory, and the words Ayano tried to say are frozen in my mind.

“For me, about Shintaro—......”

At that time, I didn’t know what the end of that sentence would have been. The words between me and Ayano are hazy, and it doesn’t help that while we were locked up together she also said, “I wanted to take a picture of scaredy-Shintaro”......

“Why do you always go home with me?”

As usual, Ayano is back with me. Or rather, clinging to me as we walk home together.

“You want to go home together…… don’t you?”

“No, I’m not saying no.”

“Fufu, it’s not bad, is it?”

Ayano grabs my hand. Illuminated by the setting sun, our shadows emerged on the slope.

“I won’t let go of this hand, so don’t be afraid, Shintaro.”

“....... well, if that's the case, have it your way.”

That hand that I usually shake off, I just couldn’t do it this time for some reason.

What did you try to say the other day, should I ask again?...... I was wondering at that time.

“Ah, Dad.”

Lost in the words, I said, “eh,” and turned forward. Remembering that I was holding hands with Ayano, I built up a slow, unpleasant sweat.

…… that, I wonder what it was before this feeling.

“Good evening, now, are you going home?” the words that spilled from me were so clumsy.

“Hey, I’m trying to reach out to Ayano and Ayano…… that wasn’t Shintaro Kisaragi holding hands with her, right? That’s right, I’m on my way home now, it’s just a coincidence that I ran into you two. …… if you’d like, let’s walk home together, three people.”

It will take a long time to get over this misunderstanding with such an overprotective father……

That’s another story.

XXX

“For me, about Shintaro—......”

At that time, I thought I could finally confide my feelings. Then suddenly, I heard someone’s footsteps coming toward us.

I could have finished that sentence without worrying about it.

But when I heard the footsteps, a little silence drifted between me and him. Just a little. You could call it an instant. In that instant I thought about it.

‘What if I get rejected?’

“Haa, I’m sorry to say, I’m a hero of justice.”

I lie on my back in bed, thinking about the classmate who’s so special to me.

That classmate, I’m sure he thinks of me as only a friend.

“...... I don’t even think I’m a friend, though.”

I was terribly saddened by the words I muttered.

But lately he’s allowed me to be closer to him. We eat lunch together, go home together, and we push our desks together for him to teach me how to study. And that relationship, I don’t want to break it.

If I say my feelings, the relationship may break. Isn’t it better not to say it if it will break it? At that time, when such a thing came to mind, I swallowed those feelings, and turned toward the footsteps of someone running.

He calls himself a coward, but the coward is me.

While asking him to tell me his true feelings, it’s me who can’t say my own true feelings.

I’m afraid of being separated from him, I’m afraid of this relationship breaking, and I’m a pitiful coward.

“...... let’s go to sleep.”

No matter how I think of it, there’s no answer besides that I’m a pitiful coward. It’s hard to get an answer when you’re studying it, it’s bad because the answer is immediately clear in such a case.

I’m okay. He and I aren’t going to be separated right now.

I still have time.

That’s why I’m okay. Let’s convey our feelings little by little.

I still have time.

I still have a lot of time.

So, let’s talk to him tomorrow. Let’s make lots of memories.

Tomorrow with him———......

Book Info | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

[loveelle]

Thank you, Jerry~ Part 1

Luke Patterson x Alive!Reader Series

Summary: After getting an afternoon free from the band, Luke decides to see his parents, only to find out something he wasn’t expecting.

A/N: Here’s part one! Part two comes when this hits like 10-15 reblogs that aren’t from my self reblogs but I would really love some feedback to know whether or not people are liking this, you know? I’m also naming these chapter I think because I really like that so enjoy!

WC: 3.1K

SERIES MASTER

MASTER

~Prologue~

Part One: I think I’m losing my mind

---

Moving was such tedious work. If it was up to you, you wouldn’t have moved, but unfortunately your dad had other plans. Plans which involved packing your entire life up and moving states away from home.

“Kendall, I promise, the minute I’m old enough and have enough money, I’ll come back home.”

“You better!” Your best friend’s voice crackles through your phone as you frown, hanging your sweatshirt up in the closet. “What’s LA like anyway?”

You sigh, brushing your hands through your clothes before falling onto your sheet-empty bed. “Hot. Loud. Busy.” You begin to list off before the roar of your father’s car outside catches your attention and you peak out your window to watch him drive off and leave your truck in the driveway. He’s left you without even saying goodbye. “Lonely.”

“Damn right it’s lonely!” Kendall chuckles and without a hesitation, so do you. Her laugh was infectious. “You left me here! Only a month before prom, might I add? Now I actually have to find a date or go all alone.” She mumbles and you sigh again, rolling over on the bed and putting the phone on speaker.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She’s quick to shut down your apology. “It’s not your fault your dad decided to kidnap you from me. But I do have to go.”

“Oh?” You smirk. “You got other friends beside me, Kay?”

“Maybe.” She laughs gently and this time you don’t join her, your smirk only falls. “Um, Meredith’s party.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Meredith’s party, right. “Well have fun.” You tell her, hoping she doesn’t catch onto the sharpness in your voice. Kendall only says goodbye before the phone call was over and you were left staring at your new ceiling.

For the first time since you moved to LA, you were beginning to realize how quiet this city could actually be.

And lonely.

Very, very lonely.

The silent sounds of your new and rather old house unnerves you, so as you blast your music and your smile already brightens as you continue to empty the million of boxes around you.

---

“What do you mean someone moved into your parents house?” Alex was the first to speak up after minutes of silence as the three of them tried to understand what Luke was talking about.

“I don’t know.” Luke speaks from his spot on the couch, crossing his arms in front of himself. “I went to visit them today and there was a truck and there were boxes and there was a girl in my room. My room.” Reggie, Alex, and Julie all exchange looks. Luke sighs dramatically before jumping off, his feet finding the floor only seconds before he leaps onto the coffee table. “I mean, where are my parents? Did she kick them out?”

The three whose feet remained firmly on the ground finally understood why Luke was making a big deal of this.

He wasn’t mad that someone moved into his parents house. He was worried because suddenly, without any knowledge on Luke’s part, his parents weren’t there and Luke had no clue where they were or even if they were still here.

Julie reaches out for Luke and ushers him back to the couch and reluctantly he does so, avoiding the comforting look Julie is trying to offer. “Luke, I’m sure your parents are just fine. I mean, it hasn’t been that long since you’ve went and seen them, right?”

He inhales sharply and let his eyes fall out of self-disappointment. “It’s been months.”

“What?” Alex asks out of shock at Luke’s comment.

“I haven’t seen them in months.” He looks up at his blond friend with a frown. He was met with a sadden droopy eyes from him and Reggie and he was certain if he casts a glance to Julie, she would look the same. “I just never had a moment!” He tries arguing but he knows his excuse is weak. If he wanted to visit and check up on his parents, it would’ve taken only a minute and he’d know exactly what was happening.

Now he was in the dark and he hated it.

---

Your dad honks his car horn when he returns and you can barely hear it over your music. As soon as you do, you turn it down and peak out your window. He’s standing in the driveway, leaning against the car. “Help me carry in dinner!” He yells at you, throwing up a smile as well as shaking some groceries and a fast food bag.

You grin back and nod before grabbing your phone and turning the music off before tossing it back on your bed. The thought of plugging it in crosses your mind but you were too focused on the food you couldn’t wait to eat. Moving takes a lot out of you.

“Thank you.” You coo at your father before delving into the bag of fast food, pulling out a burger and almost all the fries before your dad snatches the bag out of your hand with a grin.

“Save some for me. You know, the one who paid.” He chuckles and you shake your head, shoving a fry into your mouth.

“Snooze you lose.” You grin before sharing the fries you took with him and sliding into a seat at the table. The two of you fall into a quiet dinner, but your dad won’t stop sneaking looks at you. “You uh, you didn’t tell me you were leaving earlier.” You point out to him, taking a sip of your drink as your dad swallows quickly and shakes his head.

“Yeah uh, you were on the phone.” He defends. “Didn’t want to bother you.” His excuse was weak and he knew it. “Were you talking to Kendall?”

“Yep.” You nod quietly.

“That’s good. That’s good.” Awkward conversation. That’s always fun. At least he hadn’t mentioned- “You call your mother yet?”

“Dad.” You stop eating, looking him dead in the eye as he shakes his head.

“You can’t ignore her forever, Y/N.”

Your jaw tightens and you can no longer hold his gaze. “Why not? Not my fault she doesn’t want me in her life.”

“Y/N-“

“She wanted the dog before she wanted me.” You remind him, the sting of your mothers decisions in the divorce still hurting you.

“She still loves you-“

“She could of fooled me.” You snap and your father straightens his back. You know he was angry but he wasn’t going to take it out on you. He’d bottle it up until he can relax and then you’d apologize to each other later. But right now, you were mad too. “I’m done eating.” You say before pushing off from your spot on the table, leaving only a few fries as you throw away your garbage.

Your dad watches you leave with a frown. “Call your mother.” He shouts needlessly and you don’t respond, only knowing that you were most certainly not going to do so.

You collapse on your bed when you arrive at your room, groaning into the sheets draped messily across the mattress.

You just want one night that doesn’t end in a fight about your mother. One night where your father doesn’t try to push you into some mother-daughter relationship that doesn’t exist. One night where… where your phone isn’t plugged into the charger after you were certain you left it on the bed.

What the hell?

You sit quickly when the notification pops on your screen, lighting it up and bathing your darkened room in light with some random spam email. You didn’t plug the phone in, you were 100% certain because you watched it land on your pillow and you had the thought to plug it in. You didn’t plug it in without realizing, did you? Or maybe, maybe you had a ghost!

“That’s insane.” You chuckle to yourself before freezing and glancing around the room. “That’s insane, right?”

---

Luke slipped away the first moment he could after he talked to his friends. He told them he just wanted a moment alone but once they all filed out of the studio for him, he didn’t stay long.

“Help me carry in dinner!” He heard your dad’s voice before he could see him. Luke had decided to go to the one place he might get some answers.

He stays out of the way as you toss your phone on the bed and dart out of the room and once he hears your steps descend, he takes his time to look around properly. You had done more moving and organizing in the last few hours than Luke believes he’s ever done in his life. The room is starting to look like a teenage girls room, or at least, what Julie’s room feels like since your style is a little different and Luke wonders if all teenage girls rooms feel the same.

He’s about to leave, wanting to inspect the rest of the house for any sign of his parents when your phone lights up on the bed. It catches his attention away from leaving and Luke has to look at it. As far as he could tell, it was just some notification from an app, something that was common with phones as he’s learned from Julie, but he also learned that when the battery is low, you plug it in. Now normally, Luke would plug Julie’s phone in for her and he would get a thanks in return from her later that day, but as he was plugging your phone into the charger, he forgot one big, rather huge thing.

You didn’t know ghosts exist.

He didn’t find anything else in the house pertaining to his parents, but what he did find was you and your father involved in a small argument about your mother and Luke was frozen, feeling like he shouldn’t impose on this family moment but he can’t help but feel for you and your father. His friends and him know all about parent troubles and by the looks of it, so did you. So when you excused yourself from the table and headed back into your room, Luke slowly followed behind, casting a glance behind himself to see your father bury his face in his hands. You were laying on your bed when Luke walks through your door and the thought to leave you crosses his mind before you bolt up from your seat.

“That’s insane.” You whisper and Luke can barley hear you before you are glancing around the room. “That’s insane, right?”

Were you talking to him? You looked at him- you’re looking at him, could you see him?

“Hello?” Your meek voice makes Luke step to the side, just to ensure you weren’t looking at him and thankfully, your eyes don’t follow. You don’t see him. “If there’s a ghost here,” you swallow thickly. This was dumb, right? The thought that there could actually be a ghost in this house. “If there’s a ghost here, will you just let me know if you’re going to kill me?”

Joking. That was a good idea right? You hoped the ghost would at least understand that. Much to your luck, although unbeknownst to you, Luke laughs.

“Oh god, I think I’m losing my mind.” You groan and fall back on the bed, letting a chuckle escape your lips. “Ghosts. I really thought I was being haunted by-“ Your desk light flicks on. You don’t look at it, choosing to look at your door and trying to decide if you could make a run for it. Before you had time to jump off your bed, the light switches off. “Oh my god.” You whisper and risk a glance at the light, but like you expected, you didn’t see anything.

Does Luke feel bad about making you believe your house is haunted? A little. But it’s nothing like how he treated Bobby- or Trevor. Besides, he’ll stop himself before anything bad happens.

“Turn the light back on if you’re going to kill me.” He was chuckling before your sentence causes the sound to die out and Luke grows intrigued. You weren’t reacting how Julie did, or how he believes he would’ve. Besides the heavy shake of your voice and your body, you didn’t seem that scared. He doesn’t turn on the light.

“Okay, um,” you hesitate, trying to calm your rapid heartbeat as you think. “Turn the light on if… T-Turn the light on if you’re nice?”

What a weird question to possibly ask a ghost haunting your house. You mentally slap yourself, the thought that you imagined the light turning on crossing your mind but then the light turns on again.

“You’re a nice ghost?” You breathe out, your shoulders drooping in relief when the light quickly flickers off then back on. “Okay. Okay, I’m not freaking out.” Luke watches as you stare all around him. A part of him, a growing desire inside him, wants to become visible to you, to let you see him, but he decides against. “I’m not freaking out, you- you ghost, I’m not!”

Luke’s eyes widen. He was wrong, you were totally freaking out.

“Oh I messed up.” Luke whispers to himself before he glances around the room, trying to figure out how to calm you down.

Your mind was still realing the confusion mixed with fear as you pull a blanket around your shoulders and scream quietly into the fabric. Luke’s head snaps around at the sound but before he can do anything- although it wasn’t like he had anything in mind- you lift your head up with a calm expression. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Luke raised his brow. “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

“I’m fine.” Your needless repeating of words makes Luke even calm down as he takes a seat on your desk chair, making it spin a little. “And you’re in my desk chair.” You groan under your breath, pulling the blanket right around your shoulders as Luke stops the chair. You shake your head quickly. “No, no, no, please don’t stop moving it. At least I knew where you were.”

Amused with your plea, Luke sways in the chair, spinning it a little to the left before turning right and repeating.

You calm a little, realizing this ghost was listening to you. “Thank you.” You say softly and Luke fights himself to say you’re welcome. “So um,” You twiddle with your fingers, trying to get past the fact that there’s a ghost right in front of you and you can’t see them. “I don’t know what to do right now.” You speak into the silence and tug on the blanket, watching the chair move back and forth. “Okay, I know I’m new here but uh, are ghosts normal in LA?”

Luke doesn’t stop spinning the chair, but he wonders how he’s supposed to answer. You scrunch your face before shaking your head. “That’s a dumb question and I don’t know how you’re supposed to answer that.” He chuckles at you but your face doesn’t change. “Um, I know you probably have a name- definitely have a name, but uh, I don’t want to keep calling you ghost. So uh, how about…” You trail off, wracking your brain for a name for your new ghost friend, “how about Michael?”

Luke scrunches his face. “No thank you.”

You chuckle, almost like you could hear him. “By the way you stopped spinning, I can tell you either like the name or hate the name.” Luke didn’t even realize he stopped the chair. “Uh, keep spinning if that’s a hate?” You offer and immediately the chair starts back up. You grin, becoming comfy in the ghost’s presence. “Okay, keep spinning until I say one you like?” Luke doubts you say his name but he does listen. He listens as you make sure he’s a guy and shout out names like Jackson, Arthur, Zach, even Reginald which gets another laugh out of Luke but he doesn’t stop spinning. Not until you say, “Okay this one is one of my favorites because I had a dog I named this, but what about Jerry?”

Luke stops spinning.

He’s never thought of himself as a Jerry, and he still wouldn’t, but the thought that you would call him a name that meant something personal to you felt special to him. “Jerry?” You repeat when the chair stops spinning. “You like Jerry?” The chair moves, almost looking like a head nodding yes. You laugh warm heartily before your door opens and the chair quickly stops.

It was your dad, most likely there to apologize for dinner.

“I didn’t call mom.” You begin when he stands in the doorway for a while in silence. “I probably won’t.”

“I know.” He smiles at you, but it doesn’t meet his eyes and you wonder if he truly understands. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for pushing you and goodnight.”

Your mouth falls open before you nod and swallow away your awkwardness. “Yeah, uh it’s fine. ‘M Sorry too. Night.” He lingers for a few moments before slowly closing the door, bathing you in a darkness save for the desk lamp still turned on from Jerry. You glance to the chair, seeing it start spinning slightly. “He means well, we’re just…”

Luke doesn’t need you to tell him for him to know your relationships with both of your parents are strained at the moment. He can see it in the similarities between how he acted with his parents in this very house. His parents, god Luke wants to slap himself when he realizes he’s spent all night with you that he completely forgot about where his parents could be. He pushes out of the chair, his mission continuing on looking around the house but once he stands up, you lay back in your bed.

“I’m going to go to sleep.” You mumble to him, at least he thinks it’s to him, before looking over to the desk lamp and sighing. “Hey, um… could you?”

Luke looks between you and the lamp before he reaches over and turns it off, heading to the door to begin his search through the house. “Thank you, Jerry.” You whisper and Luke freezes before the door, throwing a glance over his shoulder to see you curled up nicely in your bed. He doesn’t know why, but the smile the sight brings the first sense of home he’s felt in this house in a long time, even before he ran away. He didn’t know much, or anything, about you, but Luke wanted to know more. He wanted to be your Jerry.

.

.

.

.

Jatp: @bekkimahonxx95 // @sexdekudungeon

TYJ: @quillsandtypos

[house-of-no-regrets]

No Regrets [in the wee hours]

Took a bit longer than expected, but I’ve finished the next little story! Hopefully I’ll be able to keep a decent pace on these. No overarching plot, just little stories in the same universe with the same characters. Warning for ~*murder*~ in this one!

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

I've been all-too-easy to wake up since I was a child; I'd often needed to go from dead asleep to functional, if groggy, as soon as I heard my father demanding action or attention. While I no longer need that reaction time, the old man long since locked up to rot, my brain is set in its ways and very convinced that I need to be able to bolt out of bed and fight God if a dust bunny moves too quickly in my vicinity.

Which is how I found myself waking up in the middle of the night, the sudden shift in the atmosphere bringing on consciousness with all the subtlety of a foghorn.

My room was silent, still, but I knew without opening my eyes that there was a spirit somewhere, and I didn't even give them a chance to speak before I pointed at the sign posted on my wall, barely shifting from my comfortable snuggle in my blanket and not even opening my eyes. Yes, this happens more often than I care to admit. No, I do not enjoy it. At all.

"Resurrection hours are noon to eight. I'm still alive and still need sleep to function."

There was silence, but the presence didn't leave, so I groaned and raised my head, finally opening my eyes to see the translucent, vaguely glowing, and unfortunately blurry spirit at the foot of my bed.

It did finally speak in a bewildered voice.

"Um, I'm being murdered."

Ah, fuck.

I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and put them on. The spirit at the foot of my bed was tallish -- I've always been bad at estimating height, maybe half a foot shorter than Yvette? Five-nine... ish? -- and seemed to be in his twenties. There was a considerable dark stain on his chest and belly; likely blood, and the cause of his death. The newly-dead tend to show things like that, as they haven't had the time to get used to modifying their form.

I really hate it when brand new ones find me. I'm not sure how it started, but it seems like more and more often, now, the dead are drawn to No Regrets before they even realize they're dead, at least if they're the type to need my help. Wish I wasn't the one who had to break it to him. I'm not great with people.

"Sorry, bro, but I'm afraid they succeeded. Where was it? I'll get the police over there."

"Uhh... my house. I think. It's a little..."

I sighed. Right.

"You're probably a little out of it still... fresh dead usually are. C'mon, I'll take you around until things look familiar."

Climbing out of bed, I headed over to grab my hoodie from the back of the chair. I learned the hard way that sleeping is not a tits out sort of occasion when you're liable to get the dead dropping in at all hours of the night, so I sleep in pajama pants and a tank top. Little too chilly for tank tops outside, though. I shoved my phone in my hoodie and my feet into loafers, then started heading out of my room and down the hall.

"You remember your name?" I asked, trying to make conversation and learn what I could.

"Uh, Davis. Craig? Craig Davis."

"Well, Craig Davis, I'm sorry to hear about your passing. You're gonna need to possess me for this little adventure, by the way, but I'll walk you through it once we're outside."

"I- what?"

Considering how often I find myself lost in normal conversations, dealing with confused new spirits is especially difficult. Still shaking off my body's angry demands for More Sleep was not helping matters in the slightest, either.

"Possession. I'll explain it in just a minute." I rubbed an eye and yawned as I stopped in the foyer to pull a set of keys off one of the hooks on the wall.

Usually, I've got a driver. Not for vanity reasons, but after three or four near-misses caused by Sudden Spirits appearing in the car with me, I elected to hire someone to drive me into and around town as needed. But it was Fuck-This-Shit O'Clock in the morning, and Graves deserved their rest. The dead don't need to sleep, but they can if they so choose -- and it does, after all, conserve energy. The same goes for Yvette and Ashby; it was too early in the morning for most people to be out and searching for a necromancer to kill, so I wasn't gonna disturb them. I could handle a simple spirit chauffeur and 911 call on my own.

The keys were to the motor scooter; it was the better choice in this situation, allowing for more mobility and no passenger seat for any extra ghosts to drop into. That did, though, mean that Craig would need to ride shotgun in my body.

When I got out to the green scooter in the driveway, I paused and looked over at Craig.

"Hey, I know you're probably still a little out of it, so Possession 101." Script time. At least having this stuff memorized made it easier to do while dozy. "Our bodies need to take up the same space, so c'mere." I beckoned Craig over.

"So like… step into you?" He asked. Good, seemed like his head was clearing up some.

"Yeah, that's part 1."

He nodded and complied, crossing the space between us and settling in the same location, the two of us clipped into each other like bugged NPCs. It always felt so weird, those moments before a spirit actually possesses you. A sort of wobbly, in-and-out feeling like physics is trying to crush you and the spirit together, or, failing that, just kick your ass to the ground so you're not both in the same place at the same time.

"A'ight, now turn around and face the direction I’m facing, and overlay your hands onto mine as best you can." It was just a moment for him to obey, and I continued. "I'm not resisting, so you're gonna start feeling like you're being pulled in and pushed out at the same time. Space is trying to equalize. Let yourself be pulled in. It's gonna feel a bit like-"

The whirlpool effect kicked in before I could finish, the sudden snap and release of tension as Craig's spirit sank into my body. I wobbled a bit and grabbed the handlebar in front of me, then shivered at the sudden chill and dizziness. I'm pretty good at taking on passengers like this, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

"You in there, buddy?" I asked out loud. Especially with new spirits, trying to think at each other was more trouble than it was worth. My lips moved to answer, though it wasn't my voice coming out.

"Uh- yeah. Yeah I'm here."

I grabbed the helmet hanging on the other handlebar and snapped it on, kicking the stand up and plopping heavily onto the seat.

"Great. Let's go."

"Wait, why am I not in control?" came Craig's confused voice. He felt almost frustrated, an undercurrent of emotion that wasn't mine despite being in my mind and body.

"Because this is my body, and I let you in willingly. Easier to keep control when you're letting someone in. Plus," I gave a little snort. "You just died, dude. I've been letting spirits possess me since middle school."

I felt his frustration turn to grumpiness, and then the pressure in my head, like a storm rolling in, that I knew from experience was him trying to take control. I froze and let out an irritated huff.

"You stop that. I'm not dealing with you doing some dumb shit with my body. Either chill out or get out."

"Oh- uh. Just wanted to see if I could…"

"Uh-huh. Anyhow, now that you're together enough to try joyriding, do you remember much about where you were before you were killed?"

I started up the scooter as emotions rolled through my mind, detached and distant, almost like the muffled dissociation I was used to mid-shutdown. Possessing spirits' emotions always felt weird like that, both mine and not mine, held at arm's length. Craig's was especially turbulent for a new death, but given that he had been murdered… I didn't fault him for being a little confused and angry. Even if it did put me a little on edge. 

"Uh- South Pine Street, Dogwood Acres housing development."

"Baller. That's not far from here. Once we get close to your body, you should be able to feel where it is, so I'll have a house number for the police. Don't want to have them scream in all blue lights and loud sirens and have your killer go to ground before they know which house, y'know?"

The muffled flare of anger that I felt was definitely not my own. I took a deep breath, hoped that the killer had panicked and tried to clean up instead of get rid of the body first, and puttered off towards Dogwood.

The housing development was quiet, lines upon lines of identical suburban boxes lit by flickering street lights that cast the sidewalks and yards in harsh white light. The occasional house had the glow of yellow within, but most of them were dormant. Weaving my way through the maze of streets, each one absolutely indistinguishable from the one before and the one to come, I felt terribly exposed -- and alone despite the spirit currently hitching along in my body.

I turned onto South Pine and brought my scooter to a puttering stop, stabilizing it with both feet on the ground. I couldn't help but bounce my legs to replace the vibration of driving; the sudden lack of sensation would ratchet my anxiety up even if I wasn't currently letting a frustrated dead man hang out in my head to catch his murderer.

...I should be more than a little anxious, really, but half-asleep Tabby once again wrote a check that more-awake Tabby is having to cash, and more-awake Tabby is very used to having to deal with the consequences of her idiot decisions. It occurred to me that normal peoples' consequences didn't usually involve murder, but when you live with the dead, you're bound to meet a few killers.

Two houses down, I could feel- not a tug so much as a presence, an echo of Craig's spirit reacting to his body. It was the only one on the street with its lights on and its garage, while not lit, was open. There was a car in the garage, another in the driveway, and a pickup at the curb in front.

"258?" I asked Craig, though I knew the answer already. His anger flared and I felt the oncoming storm again. I snapped at him. "That's two strikes, Craig. I'm sorry for your death, but if you end up driving my body into a crime scene or, god forbid, getting me killed next, I will kick your ass to whatever afterlife you're headed for and stay there to keep kicking it for eternity."

Big words for a short fat lady, but this is, in fact, my body on the line right now. I probably wouldn't be able to follow through on any ass-kicking, but dammit, I would try.

Craig was silent, and I could feel him steaming, petulant like a child denied a toy but with the power of a grown man behind it. With my stomach tying itself in knots and my hands starting to tremble, I dialed 911, hoping it would help quell the rising panic.

"258 South Pine Street. I think there's been a murder. I don't know the state of the crime scene or if the perp is still there, but you might be able to catch them if you hurry. The victim is Craig Davis, white adult male, either shot or stabbed in the chest, likely multiple times-"

"Wait, is this Tabby? The necro girl?"

Oh god I hope that isn't what the operators call me regularly-- I know I'm a bit of a 911 cryptid, since the usual intruder calls are to the non-emergency line, but if I get known as the necro girl I might have to move to a different state.

"Yeah, uh, necromancer, yeah-" I couldn't help but stumble over my words, now, with my train of thought derailed by the interruption. "-uh, murder?"

"Right! I'll send someone."

I murmured a thanks and hung up before she could ask me to stay on the line. I already had to stay around for the cops so Craig could give a statement, and making small talk with the 911 operator was not in the spoons tonight.

I don't like cops much, but in my line of work, they're kind of a necessity. I need to stay on the police force's good side because I need them to remove attempted murderers from my property on the regular. ...and also because graverobbing is still technically illegal, even if I do have the body owner's permission to dig them up.

At least most of the locals who know of me and my employees are chill about it. It took a bit of effort to get to that point, but now at least people don't run screaming from the less-presentable of my employees…

The blue lights of the police showed up fairly quickly, followed almost immediately by the red flashing of EMS. I puttered up slowly and parked my scooter just out of range as the officers set to work surrounding the house, then hung my helmet on a handlebar and walked up the rest of the way to watch the impending train wreck. I could feel Craig's anger boiling higher and tried my best to ignore it; Craig himself seemed to have fallen silent and sullen after I called him out.

"Tabby!"

I was standing just off to the side of the ambulance when someone stepped up behind me and called my name, making me jump and cringe.

"Oh- oh dear, I'm sorry, Tabs. I thought I heard you were the one who called this in!"

I straightened up immediately, face burning. I recognized that voice, bright and smooth and kind and--

"J-Jenna!" My voice was barely a squeak as I turned to face her, looking up at the round, dark face of one of the EMTs. She was a good six feet tall, maybe more, towering above me even in her uniform flats, with a brilliant smile and full lips and gorgeous natural hair pulled through the back of her uniform cap, the streetlight illuminating her from behind like a halogen angel.

Jenna had shown up to one of my early calls for assistance at No Regrets, and then she kept turning up, not every time I was in a situation where I'd be around EMTs, but often.

Concern showed on her face as she leaned to look me over.

"Are you okay? Did you see it happen, or-"

I shook my head, buying time to sort out words by tapping my temple with a finger.

"N-no, I uh- the victim woke me up, he's in here, uh, in case the cops need somethin' from him."

"Oh… are you getting enough sleep, dear? You sound exhausted. Do you want to sit in the back of the truck?"

It took me a second or two to recover from the way she called me dear, my face burning bright red. I couldn't make eye contact even for the second or two I can usually manage so that people don't immediately think I'm being dishonest.

"I- uh- um- w-well, it's, uh, it is like 4am--" I stammered, trying desperately to find words. "I-I guess 'm sleepin' okay, uh, how're… you doing??"

I have never been a great orator and the list of why that is gets a bit longer with every um and stutter.

Jenna's face bloomed into a gorgeous, open grin.

"I'm on 12-hour overnights right now, so I'm basically at least 60 percent Red Bull at any given time. Everyone okay up there at the House? Last I heard y'all were digging up half the lawn.”

I nodded, unable to keep from grinning. At least this was a subject I could talk to her about without making an absolute ass of myself--

"Yeah! The new girl, Chris, she's gotten Daryl and Roy to help her get the vegetable garden going! It's plenty big enough to take care of all of us, and I worked out a deal with the soup kitchen so that they get any of our excess, once things are running smoothly, and I can use their account to buy from that bulk food program that's usually only open to chari- oop-!" I bit my tongue and cringed. Right. I'm pretty sure that's technically fraud and I just admitted to it in front of-

There was a commotion from the house that snapped me back to attention, and the cops were leading a man out in handcuffs. He looked pale and shaken, spattered in blood, and not quite… present, like he had just checked out of reality for his own good. That… was a familiar look. I furrowed my brow. He certainly didn't look like a maniacal killer-

"He caught me with his wife," I said. Well. Craig said. I jumped. Jenna jumped. I flushed and covered my mouth reflexively.

"N-no that was him! The victim!" I squeaked. Jenna laughed, a hearty belly laugh, and covered her own mouth, though she was doing a terrible job of hiding her grin.

"I figured! If he caught you with his wife, it would be an upgrade!"

At this point, you could probably fry an egg on my face. Hell, my glasses were starting to fog up-- I stammered for a few moments, trying desperately to find something to say, and it was Craig who saved me, if you could call it that. I was too caught up in my embarrassment and awkwardness to realize how much anger and frustration he was radiating.

"Motherfucker told me he'd have my job! Son of a bitch thinks he can get away with doing this to me, he's gonna fucking pay--"

The oncoming storm crashed over me before I could get a grip on it, and all of a sudden I was lumbering forward, snarling words that weren't my own, and dragging a gardening pickaxe out of my truck -- Craig's truck -- on my way to the man and the cops--

I let out a shriek, in my own voice, feeling the sound cutting my throat raw. I wrested control of my body back with a lurch, falling on my ass in the yard with the force of it while the silvery-blue form of Craig was ejected from my body, screaming obscenities.

I threw my hand forward, fighting for whatever thoughts and words I could find to fix this. I saw Craig right himself and move back towards me, and the first incantation -- if you could call it that -- that my brain grasped left my lips in a single desperate breath, with a dizzying rush of power--

"INTHENAMEOFTHEMOONIBANISHYOU--!!"

The force of the hurried exorcism rushed outward like a sonic boom, strong enough for even the mundanes around me to feel, and Craig's spirit let out a yowl of rage for a brief second before twisting around itself and collapsing in with a sickening crunch, crushing smaller and smaller until it was gone.

I winced -- not my best exorcism. At all.

As the flare of adrenaline dropped almost immediately and I came back to myself properly, I realized -- blurrily, as my glasses had gotten thrown off somewhere -- at least two officers had their weapons half-drawn at me, though they were looking over at where Craig's spirit had disappeared.

I collapsed the rest of the way onto the grass, shaking, and covered my face with my hands, trying with everything within me not to start crying. I should have realized he'd try something like that, why hadn't I been paying attention- I could have been attacked, I could have been arrested, I could have had to watch myself beat a man to death and I- fuck--

The sob that came out was squeaky and pained, and I pressed my hands harder against my face, like that would stop anything else from going wrong. I should have brought someone-- I shouldn't have let him possess me-- I should have been paying more attention--

Warm tears ran from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks, to pool in my ears, making my already-trembling body shiver harder with the unpleasant sensation. I'd let myself get complacent, hadn't lost control of a possession like that in years, and- I'd almost- fuck--

"Honey, honey, sit up for me. Tabby? C'mon, let's get you up--"

Numbly, I let Jenna help me into a sitting position, where she wrapped a blanket around me and pressed an open bottle of water into my hands.

"Take slow sips. Are you okay? Just shaken?"

I nodded, some part of me grateful that I couldn't quite see her face properly without my glasses, because I didn't want to see what she thought about me after that. She sighed, though, and sounded relieved when she murmured "Good."

My whole body felt like jelly, trembling so hard I could feel the water in the bottle sloshing around, and I kept flashing from too hot to too cold to too hot again, and I couldn't even sort out my thoughts--

Jenna sat down beside me and rubbed my back. If I wasn't having a complete breakdown, I might have enjoyed it.

I don't know how long it took for me to calm down and clear my head, but the car with the other man had left, and the other EMTs had loaded Craig's body into the ambulance while Jenna sat next to me and made sure I was doing okay.

After a while, though, I blinked and shifted my torso, then opened the blanket more and cursed at the bloom of red on my hoodie.

I heard Jenna curse as well as she stood up, but I grabbed her pants leg.

"N-no, 'm okay," I mumbled, and instead of trying to speak more, I reached to pull my hoodie and tank up my stomach to show bruised, but completely unbroken skin, covered in blood, rivulets following my stretch marks and making it look even worse despite my being otherwise completely uninjured. "See, 'm okay." This was not the first time I've had a possession lead to the dead's cause of death showing on my own body. It wasn't even the bloodiest.

Jenna sat back down, and I could see her leaning in a bit.

"Well damn. Magic ghost stuff, huh?"

I nodded.

"Magic ghost stuff."

I could see the flash of white against dark skin as she grinned.

"So that exorcism… Artemis or Usagi?"

It took me a moment to parse her.question, but all of a sudden I was completely back to myself, just in time to absolutely die of embarrassment.

"L-listen, I- y-you can exorcise i-in anyone's name, i-it's the power and conviction that counts--!!"

"Usagi, then." I could hear the laughter in her voice, laughter that bubbled out moments later. I wanted to crawl in a hole in embarrassment, but- it didn't feel like condescending laughter. I knew what that felt like. She seemed just genuinely amused. "I grew up with Sailor Moon, too."

I couldn't stop the squeak that eaked out, and I covered my face again.

"G-god I hope word about this doesn't get out, people already think I-I'm weird enough, and to- to fall back on anime for magic i-in a pinch is just--"

"Cute," Jenna finished.

I squeaked.

Jenna moved away for a moment, and then she settled my glasses on my nose. I couldn't make eye contact, but I did glance over at her and sheepishly murmur my thanks.

"The officers still want a statement from you, since you made the call and tried to go after the perp, but I don't think they're looking at any charges, given…" Jenna trailed off and looked over at where Craig had disappeared. "...yeah."

I nodded, slowly, and then found myself yawning, the adrenaline drop setting in especially hard.

"...d'you think it can wait 'til tomorrow… 've kinda had a rough night."

"I think they'll be okay with that."

[cherienymphe]

None Of Your Concern (Chris Evans x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON(NON-CON?), AGE GAP, CHEATING(?)

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary:  costars for a little over a year, Chris has always been protective of you in the cutthroat industry much like a father would be. However, when he learns that your boyfriend is even older than him, he realizes that his feelings might not be so familial after all

~

“Okay, so it’s sort of cool that a small chunk of the Avengers gang is reunited for this movie,” the interviewer said with a chuckle.

You all joined in, in agreement. She rested her blue eyes on you.

“I know that you were a huge fan of the franchise, Y/N. I mean, over the years there have been quite a few tweets from you about the movies, ranging from…‘Spider-Man’s on team Iron-Man so therefore I am on team Iron-Man’ to ‘Scott Lang deserves the world’,” she said, reading from her phone.

Tom got a huge kick out of that first one, and you rolled your eyes. The interviewer’s eyes flickered between you two, a small smile on her lips.

“I mean, am I wrong? Does Scott Lang not deserve the world?”

She nodded with a grin.

“No, you’re right, he definitely does! I just feel like being cast in this movie and having been on the set for a little over a year must have been something like a dream come true,” she pressed.

You thought about your answer for a moment, just like your publicist advised.

“Yeah, you could say that. It’s sort of surreal going from having been kind of a casual fan of someone to interacting with them almost every day for a year,” you honestly answered.

You didn’t know if you would ever get used to interviews, no matter how private they were. You were grateful you weren’t on Jimmy Fallon or something with a live audience watching your every move, but sitting next to Tom, Anthony, Sebastian, Chris, and Tessa in a room was almost just as bad in your eyes.

“…and you’ve gotten super close with your castmates, I’d say.”

You heard Tessa clear her throat, and when you caught her eye, she gave you a look, but you didn’t understand it.

“Yeah, definitely! I love them all and they’ve easily become some of my closest friends now,” you replied, eyes meeting the interviewer’s again.

She threw you a secretive smile.

“…but you and Tom seem to hang out together more than the rest of the cast. As thick as thieves some would say,” she pressed.

Your lips parted, caught off guard, and when you caught Tessa’s eye again, you recognized the sympathetic look she was giving you. A light bulb seemed to go off in your head as you realized what she was trying to warn you against earlier, the very thing you’d unknowingly walked into. Luckily, Tom jumped in before you did.

“Well,” he started, straightening in his seat, shoulder brushing your own. “Y/N and I are the youngest members of the main cast. We don’t really have much in common with the senior citizens to my left.”

He feigned a whisper during the last part, not so discreetly pointing to his left. It had the desired effect, and you were grateful that he was trying to draw the attention away from you.

“Um,” Tessa loudly began, straightening up in her seat just as Anthony, Chris, and Sebastian all spoke up at once.

“I think what he means to say is we don’t allow the children to eat at the adult’s table,” Anthony threw in.

“Yeah, its definitely more like we exclude them, and they have no choice but to hang out together,” Sebastian joked.

“Senior citizens,” Chris scoffed, cutting his eyes at Tom.

The interviewer laughed at the turn of events, but unfortunately, she was determined to expose whatever she thought was going on between you and Tom.

“So you two are rather close then? Being alienated and all,” she chuckled.

Tom laughed, albeit a bit uncomfortably as it became clear that she wasn’t going to give up. He nudged you, gesturing for you to take the stand, having already tried to steer her in another direction.

“Well…yes, but we’re all rather close, but yeah. I would say that Tom is kind of like my best friend,” you honestly told her.

She aw’d at that, tilting her head to the side. You cut your eyes to everyone else in the room, narrowing them as it became clear that they weren’t going to help the two of you get out of this. You just knew Anthony was enjoying this…

“Just friends then? Because you two have a lot of fans, and a lot of them seem to think there’s more to the friendship, or at least, they hope there is, and honestly? Who can blame them? You two are always spotted hanging out together, going for coffee, running to Target… You’re practically joined at the hip.”

As she came outright and said it, you both wasted no time in refuting it.

“Oh, God no,” you cried, shaking your head.

“No, no, absolutely not,” Tom laughed. “Y/N and I are simply good friends. She has much better taste than I do, hence why I have to drag her to Target. Besides, we don’t have Target back home, so whenever I’m in the states, I’m going shopping there every chance I get.”

“I don’t know, I think they answered that just a little too quickly for me,” Tessa suddenly wondered aloud.

You threw her a look of betrayal as Chris added on.

“Yeah, that…that wasn’t convincing, at all,” he said in between chuckles.

You gaped at him as Tom ran his hand through his hair.

“No, Y/N and I are just friends, and nothing more. She-she has a boyfriend, anyway,” he threw out, and you playfully hit his arm.

“Tom,” you warned.

You weren’t genuinely upset that he’d let that slip, especially since you didn’t exactly care if people knew. People knowing you had a boyfriend wasn’t the cause of your apprehension. It came from certain details about your boyfriend…

“Wait, you have a boyfriend?”

Four people said several variations of this at the same time, and you cringed. Tom at least looked a bit ashamed as the interviewer watch on in amusement.

“I didn’t say any names,” he defended, hands up.

You caught Anthony’s eye and he was looking at you like you’d just hid the world’s biggest secret. Tessa looked scandalized as well, and you didn’t dare look at Chris and Sebastian.

“Wait…wait a minute,” the interviewer said, sitting up in her own chair as she looked at you two.

There was a slow smirk forming on her lips.

“So…you have a boyfriend that nobody else seems to know about…except for Tom…”

You both froze, realizing how this looked. A few chuckles reached your ears, and you exhaled.

“Okay, I know how this looks…”

“It isn’t like that, at all,” Tom reiterated. “He’s a swell chap, no, really. He’s brilliant-.”

“You’ve met him then?”

“Well, yeah-.”

“Wait, wait, wait. So how come you’ve met this ‘boyfriend’ and none of us have?” Anthony wondered.

“Yeah, this sounds like a bit of a cover,” the interviewer added.

“Not a very convincing one,” Sebastian whispered.

“Okay, okay! I know that I’m not super talkative about it, but have we all forgotten that I have a girlfriend?”

That seemed to quiet everyone down.

“…besides, her boyfriend is like forty anyway, so its definitely not me,” he laughed, realizing too late what he’d said.

“Tom!” you cried.

Both of his hands were covering his mouth, eyes wide as all hell broke loose. You blinked several times, mouth agape in shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tessa yelled over the others.

“Forty?”

Sebastian, Chris, and Anthony were all talking over each other, all of their questions directed at you while you just stared at Tom who stared back, pleading. He slid his hands down, teeth bared as shame filled his features, cringing.

“I’m so, so, so sorry…”

His apology was overshadowed by Sebastian.

“Forty?” he repeated.

“Tom’s exaggerating, okay? He’s more like thirty,” you quickly said, trying to ease the tension and make light of the situation.

Tom’s eyes were wide as they met yours, and you quickly looked away.

“So, the boyfriend isn’t Tom…and he’s only thirty then?” the interviewer finally spoke up when the room was finally quiet once again.

You sighed, eyes meeting Tom’s again as he looked to see what you were going to do. You thought about what your publicist would advise. You’d been a part of stan twitter once. You knew how the internet could be. They’d dig until they found out the truth, and discovering his actual age, and identity by extension, would be pretty bad for both of you. Against your better judgement, you decided to be truthful since the cat was out of the bag, hoping it’d be enough to keep people’s curiosity at bay.

“No, he’s definitely 43,” you quietly admitted.

Once again, all hell broke loose.

As soon as the interview was over, you were the first one out of the room, Tom right behind you. You could hear your name being called, and Tom pushed you along.

“Go, go, go,” he urged.

You had just made it to your dressing room when a muscular arm slid between the door and the frame as you attempted to close it.

“Anthony, not now!”

“No, no, now.”

He pushed the door open, and you denied him entrance, two familiar faces behind him. Neither him, Sebastian, or Chris looked pleased with you, and you just knew that they weren’t going to let this go…not without a fight. Tessa passed by, and you sent her a pleading look.

She heaved a sigh, slowing down before reaching out to pull them all back.

“C’mon guys. Leave the poor girl alone,” she said.

“We just want to talk,” Sebastian said.

It was a lie.

“I’m not discussing this with you,” you told them, eyes meeting Chris’. “Any of you.”

You tried to ignore his frown as you closed and locked the door. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your phone. You texted Alex, your boyfriend, warning him of what might make it into the article. You weren’t actually upset about the turn of events, you just hated the aftermath that would ensue.

You blamed the interviewer most of all. You knew that Tom was just trying to clear the air and make it known that there wasn’t anything going on between you two. You knew how flustered he could get sometimes when he started rambling, and you also texted him to let him know that everything was fine, and you weren’t mad.

Your main concern was the trio down the hall. Tessa felt like an older sister at times, and while you wish that it had been on your terms, you weren’t opposed to talking to her about this. You knew the conversation was going to happen eventually. Anthony, Sebastian, and Chris on the other hand were a completely different matter.

You stuck your head out, glancing around before leaving the room.

Your friendship with Seb was way more casual than with the other two. You cracked jokes and hung out with all of them often, but half the time it felt like Chris and Anthony were scolding you and telling you what you could or couldn’t do. Sebastian didn’t care, and you liked that. Hence why you didn’t verbally oppose when he suddenly came out of nowhere, easily falling into stride with you.

He didn’t say anything for a while, but you knew it was coming. You bit your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing that he was doing the same. He abruptly stopped, and so did you.

“Forty-three?”

You avoided his piercing gaze, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as he faced you.

“Seb…please…”

“I mean, I’m not judging, I promise,” he said, hands raised.

“Except, you are though,” you sighed, looking at him. “You’re judging, just a little bit.”

His arms fell at his sides.

“Okay, so I’m judging just a little bit, but can you blame me? The guy’s older than Anthony,” he scoffed.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t care,” you told him.

“Clearly. I’m just saying, he’s old enough to be your father,” he said.

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s not, because then that would be weird,” you threw at him, rolling your eyes.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and somehow, you got the feeling that he’d drawn the short straw on who was going to come and talk sense into you. You briefly glanced down the hall, brows furrowed. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you hated how he was looking at you. Like you were a child doing something bad. Your jaw clenched.

“I know you’re an adult…”

You let out a humorless chuckle.

“Do you know who you sound like, right now?”

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“At the risk of sounding like Chris…”

“You sound like Chris, that’s who you sound like.”

“…this industry can be…ruthless,” he continued.

“Don’t I know it?” you sarcastically replied.

“…and you’re still so fresh and new and there are plenty of people just looking to take advantage of someone like you and your talent and potential…”

“My boyfriend isn’t one of them, okay? He has plenty of talent on his own,” you informed him.

Sebastian tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing.

“What his name, anyway?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you slowly sang.

“Well…what does he do?”

“Again, none of your business.”

“How did you meet? How long have you been seeing him? Something, anything! Anything at all?”

You pursed your lips before releasing a soft sigh.

“We’ve been seeing each other for about 7 months now,” you admitted.

His eyes almost bugged out of his head, lips parting.

“7 months?”

You pulled away from him, the day finally getting to you.

“Look, Seb, I have to go. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you guys, but to be honest, this was the main reason why, so…”

You paused, facing him again.

“Please, tell Chris and Anthony not to worry, okay? I know they’re freaking the fuck out and probably sent you on their behalf. I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder as you exited the building.

When you got home, there was a slew of text messages awaiting you. Most were from Anthony, and you answered all of them as best as you could. He was just worried, and you definitely understood that, but he was freaking out more than your own mother had when you told her about Alex.

“It just…took me by surprise,” was the first thing he said when he picked up the phone.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, browsing your fridge for something to eat. “I was always going to tell you guys if it ever got more serious.”

“More serious?” he scoffed. “Seb said you guys have been dating for 7 months.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We clearly have different definitions of a serious relationship,” you mumbled.

“It’s just concerning, alright? If my kid was dating someone 20 years older than them, I’d be rightfully concerned,” he defended. “Especially considering I’ve never met this man and don’t know anything about him.”

“Look at the word you just used: kid. That is something I am not,” you said, slamming your fridge shut. “…and there’s no need to meet him.”

“I disagree.”

“That’s fine,” you tersely replied.

You heard him exhale on the other end, a tense silence falling between you two. You were being a little harsh, you knew that, especially considering Anthony always treated you like family, but you needed to make him, all of them, understand that you were an adult who could make her own decisions. They had no say in this.

“…you heard from Chris?” he eventually asked.

“No, actually, and that’s a little worrisome, I’m not going to lie,” you honestly added, running your eyes over your wine collection.

“Yeah, well, he’s not happy,” Anthony told you.

“If he’s going to pout about this like my personal dating choices offended him or something, then he can suck my ass.”

A laugh met you from the other end, a genuine laugh, and you cracked a smile.

“He’ll come around. You know how much you mean to him,” he finally said after he calmed down.

You did know. Chris was one of the first people to talk to you on set, trying to make you feel more comfortable. It was your first big movie, your first time starring with household names, with people that had way more experience than you. He got you to laugh on your first day and even dragged you over to meet everyone else. He’d taken you under his wing…

Your heart clenched as you thought about how he must feel. It was your business, sure, but you couldn’t pretend like you didn’t feel guilty. You felt even worse once you thought about the fact that you’d told Tom and not him, but Tom didn’t judge you. Tom didn’t treat you like some kid who didn’t know any better half the time.

“I’ll text him,” you told Anthony. “See if I can get him to accept my white flag…”

“You do that. See you tomorrow, kiddo.”

You texted Chris as soon as you hung up, and as the night wore on, your worry grew. You found yourself periodically checking your phone for any type of response, but you got nothing. Alex called though and talked with you until you fell asleep. He was overseas, filming in his home country at the moment, but he called you every day.

He wasn’t bothered at all by what might be in the article, only making sure that you were okay.

“Yeah…I’m okay,” you quietly replied.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound it,” he quietly replied, deep voice gruff.

You frowned before turning to look at your clock.

“Isn’t it like…3 in the morning over there?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he lightly said, ignoring your own.

You sighed.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just…there was a reason I didn’t want to tell everyone, and some people are proving me right…”

“They’ll come around,” he assured.

“You know Seb isn’t the type to care too much, but even he was more judgmental than I expected. Anthony is slowly coming around, but Chris… He’s not answering any of my texts.”

He was quiet for a while before finally responding.

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

You frowned again, sitting up in bed.

“What do you mean?”

“He is a bit…overprotective of you, isn’t he? I know he just gets concerned, but sometimes he acts like he’s your father and…he’s not. He shouldn’t have any say in what you do,” he elaborated.

You rubbed your eyes.

“I know what you’re saying is true because I’ve thought it myself, but for some reason it sounds harsh coming from your lips,” you groaned.

He chuckled.

“I don’t mean for it to, I promise. I just mean that maybe this will force him to lighten up a bit and realize that there are boundaries and lines he shouldn’t cross…”

You blinked.

“Huh. You might be onto something,” you admitted. “I know he thinks I’m such a child sometimes. Maybe this will make him wake up.”

You didn’t stay on the phone for much longer, and your heart sank when you hung up only to see no new notifications. Was Chris ignoring you? With a huff, you plugged your phone up and settled into bed.

You sipped on the coffee Tom had gotten you on the way here, leaning against the wall as you watched Chris and Anthony talk to the interviewer. This one preferred to talk to a few of you at a time, and considering the disaster that happened a week ago, you quite liked that.

That pushy girl had indeed included the bit about your love life in the article. Fortunately, it was tastefully done, only mentioning it in passing, but she had included that the rest of the cast, sans Tom, had been none the wiser. You hadn’t checked to see what people were saying about it. It wasn’t their opinions that mattered to you.

Chris hadn’t talked to you since, ignoring every one of your messages. Eventually, you gave up, deciding that he’d talk to you whenever he was ready. At first you were angry once you realized what he was doing, but eventually you became more understanding. He was probably more hurt than anything that you hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him.

You perked up when you heard the mention of your name.

“So, word on the street is that Y/N does indeed have a beau and it’s not Tom Holland…” he started.

Chris and Anthony chuckled, but you could tell it was forced.

“Yeah, man, I don’t think anyone was more shocked about that one than their fans,” he laughed. “…but we all know they’re just good friends. It was a nice running joke for a while though.”

Chris didn’t say anything, and the interviewer continued.

“Speaking of shocked, is it true that the rest of you guys were completely in the dark about it? I read that the ball was actually dropped during the interview. I mean, how awkward that must’ve been…”

Chris exhaled.

“Yeah…it was definitely something. It made my day though.”

Your jaw ticked as you realized that he was putting on a front.

“…and is it true that he’s 43? I mean, I’ll definitely ask Y/N this later on-.”

“Then it’d probably be best if she answered that,” Anthony interrupted, and you mentally thanked him.

“Well…the secret’s out, right?” Chris laughed, and you frowned. “Yeah, she says he’s 43.”

Your frown deepened.

“That’d be like dating one of you guys, I’d imagine, but at least it’ll be easy for him to get on well with you guys. You all are rather close with Y/N, so that must be of some importance to her,” the interviewer replied.

“I don’t know about that one considering we found out with the rest of the world,” Chris joked, but you saw right through it. “I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t know though because…”

He suddenly trailed off, letting out a low ‘whew’. He shook his head.

“No. I never would have allowed it.”

Your jaw dropped, staring at him like he’d grown a second head as the words registered within your mind. You didn’t even hear the rest of what was said as you backed up. You almost bumped into Tessa, and she steadied you.

“Woah,” she said. “You okay?”

“No, actually,” you slowly replied, turning to face her. “I’m not.”

You found that it was true. Your stomach churned and you felt like you were going to vomit any moment. The audacity of him!

“I…I have to go,” you told her.

You let your publicist know that you were feeling ill, and you waved bye to Tom on the way out, his brows furrowed in confusion as he hesitantly waved back. You fought tears the entire way to your apartment, shaking your head in disbelief. Never mind the fact that Chris has said that, but the fact that he’d confidently said it in front of other people.

“Never would have allowed it?” you mumbled to yourself.

You were gripping the wheel so hard you were sure it would break. As you furiously got out of your car, you thought to yourself that you didn’t even care if he texted you back or not. You weren’t in the mood to even look at his face, let alone talk to him.

After you showered and poured yourself a glass of wine, you curled up on your couch, staring at the tv…but not watching it. Chris’ words kept replaying, and you wondered how he could even fix his mouth to say such a thing. He wasn’t your father! There wasn’t a damn thing in the world he could forbid you to do.

And before you knew it, you had downed two more glasses and that was exactly what you were texting him. You were certain your thumbs would crack the screen with how furiously you were typing. When you were done, you turned your phone off, slamming it on the table as you returned your gaze to the tv.

It was hours later when you heard a knock on your door. You briefly wondered who it was, but you had suspicions that it was probably Tom. You’d left in such a hurry, and your phone was off, so he was probably coming to check on you. With a buzz coursing through your veins, you pulled the door open, only for your face to drop when your eyes connected with blue ones…not brown.

He didn’t exactly look thrilled to see you either, and you were certain that your face was no different. You pursed your lips, going through a pros and cons checklist of letting him in before scoffing. You swung the door open wider before turning your back on him. You heard him close it, his feet following yours into the kitchen.

You didn’t spare him a glance as you poured yourself another glass, taking up residence on the other side of the small island. Eventually, when he didn’t say anything, you looked up at him, a frown on your face.

“Are you actually going to say something? Or just stand there and stare at me?”

Chris heaved a sigh, resting one hand on the counter while the other found a home on his hip. He stared you down, jaw ticking beneath his beard.

“You’re upset with me…”

“I wonder what makes you think that?” you mumbled into your glass.

“…but I’m upset with you too.”

“Yeah, well, at least my anger is valid,” you spat.

“…and mine isn’t?” he threw back.

You huffed, glancing away from him.

“If you’re upset that I didn’t tell you, then I’m sorry. I mean that. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you or anything, but you have to understand why I didn’t say anything. Look at how you’re reacting,” you said, gesturing to him.

His nostrils flared.

“What does a man like that have in common with someone like you anyway?”

You jutted out your hip, resting your hand on it as you stared him down.

“Someone could easily ask you the same thing. What, I can be friends with you, Anthony, and Sebastian despite the age difference, but I can’t date someone who’s the same age as you?”

“It’s a bit different. We are your friends, we look out for you, we are not trying to…”

He swallowed his words, seeming like he couldn’t even bear to say it. You smirked at him.

“So I can choose my friends, but I can’t choose who I fuck?”

He glared at you.

“I mean…that is what you’re saying, right?”

“You can choose someone who’s acceptable…”

“…and who are you to say he’s not acceptable?” you demanded, offended on Alex’s behalf. “You don’t even know him.”

He made himself at home, taking a seat as he stared at you, hands folded on the counter.

“So tell me about him then…”

You heaved a long sigh, leaning against the sink as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“He’s…sweet,” you started, pressing your hands to your eyes. “Oh my God, he’s so sweet, Chris. You’d get along great with him. He’s funny, he loves dogs, and he has the biggest and kindest family you’ll ever meet. He’s filming overseas, right now-.”

“So he’s an actor,” Chris interrupted, sounding displeased.

“Yes. He calls me every night…,” you trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable.

“You told Anthony that it wasn’t serious…”

You looked down.

“I really like him, okay? That’s why I don’t care what you guys think. I’m not breaking up with him just because you don’t approve,” you said, eyes meeting his again. “You’re not my father, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“No, I’m not your father, and I’m sure as hell glad for that, but someone definitely needs to be…”

“Screw you, Chris,” you murmured.

He glared at you, and you fought back tears, surprised at how much this was hurting your feelings.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad about this! Why are you treating me like I can’t make my own decisions?”

“Because I think you’re making bad ones,” he answered, rising and heading towards the door.

You balled your hands into fists as he made his way out.

You spun away from Tessa, a thin layer of sweat clinging to your skin. Today was the last day of filming, and the crew members were hosting a party. You’d almost let Chris’ sour attitude ruin it for you, but Tessa convinced you to come.

She’d arrived at your apartment early in the morning, fed up with your sulking. You told her about your argument with Chris, and she listened while you ranted about his behavior. You talked with her about Alex too, eager to tell her everything. Talking to Tom about him was nice and all, but it was different with Tessa.

She comprehended why you had never said anything about your relationship, far more understanding than Chris or even Anthony had been. She made you feel a lot better about the whole situation and assured you that Chris would get over it. He hadn’t spoken to you the entire time you’d been here, so you didn’t know about that.

It pained you to think that your friendship with him could end just like that over something so insignificant as to who you were dating, something that didn’t affect his life in the slightest. You stumbled away from Tessa, realizing that you’d had more to drink than you thought. You touched her arm.

“Hey, I’m gonna head inside. Try to rest my nerves for a bit…”

“Okay,” she said. “Hurry back when you feel better.”

“K.”

You trudged your way inside of the huge house, heading straight for the kitchen. You filled a glass with water from the sink, emptying it in no time. You were ready to go for another when movement from your left caught your eye.

You looked over your shoulder, pausing when your gaze connected with that of Chris’. He didn’t look like he was having fun, and your shoulders sagged.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

You eyed him, almost sadly, before swallowing. You nodded, forgetting the glass of water and opting to follow him instead. You stumbled a few times, alcohol coursing through your system, but thankfully Chris didn’t notice.

You followed him into a guest bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he turned on the light. He was dressed plainly in jeans and a dark tee, a darker cardigan hugging his arms and shoulders. He rested his hands on his hips in that Captain America way you often teased him about, and you fought a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually breathed.

You blinked at him, the alcohol making it hard to process what he said.

“You’re…sorry?”

Your voice was small and unsure, and his face crumbled as he moved to sit beside you.

“You’re right. I can’t tell you who you can or can’t date. I shouldn’t have said what I said in that interview,” he admitted.

You let out a soft chuckle.

“No…you shouldn’t have. I was so…embarrassed when you said that Chris,” you said, looking at him.

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to make you feel that way. I thought I was upset because you hid it from me, but…”

You eyed him, waiting for him to continue. His gaze met yours.

“I don’t have any rights to your dating life, but…I want to,” he slowly replied.

You frowned at him, and he continued.

“I care about you…”

“I know. I care about you too,” you told him in the quiet room.

“I’m attracted to you, Y/N,” he confessed, making your eyes widen. “I always have been.”

Your lips parted, surprise and confusion filling you.

“I told myself from the beginning that my feelings were innocent, that I was just looking out for you. I convinced myself that my anger at your relationship came from a place of concern…but that isn’t true.”

“Chris…”

“Somewhere down the line, in the back of my mind, I had accepted that anything between us would be inappropriate. That you’d be repulsed…and then, come to find out, your boyfriend is even older than me.”

He chuckled, finding some warped humor in it all.

“I felt cheated. I felt like that could be me…like that should be me…”

You didn’t know what to say. You’d have to be blind to deny that Chris was handsome. He was one of the most sought-after men in America, but your feelings had been fleeting…shallow. You thought Anthony and Sebastian and Tom were handsome too, but in an appreciative sort of way. That was how you saw Chris too.

“I’m…with Alex. You know that…”

He took your hands, scooting closer.

“…but could that have been me? Tell me the truth,” he pleaded.

“I…I don’t know-.”

“I think you do. I think you thought like I thought and pushed any desires out of your mind.”

Your mind was fuzzy, too much alcohol in your system to fully process this conversation. You moved to stand, but he held you in place.

“Chris, I think I should go…”

You trailed off when his lips met yours, and you jerked back, eyes wide.

“I have a boyfriend, you know that…”

“You haven’t answered my question,” he told you.

“I…I don’t know! But it doesn’t matter because I am with someone!”

“…and that someone could have been me.”

“But it’s not, so-.”

He kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you. You reached in between your bodies, pressing the palms of your hands against his chest. He moved back, but he brought you with him. He rolled you over until you were beneath him, and you made a noise of protest deep in your throat.

“Chris,” you mumbled into his lips, pushing against him again.

He was smooth in reaching under your dress to take hold of your underwear, pulling them down your legs with ease. You opened your mouth to protest again, but all that came out was a gasp when his hand slid between your thighs.

You shook in his arms as he played between your legs, fingers ghosting over you and prodding you until he was able to slide them into your soaking lips. A choked moan climbed out of your throat, and he hummed as his lips trailed down your chin, peppering kisses along your neck.

Your body felt light, limbs numb as you heard him fooling around with his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. You knew what was about to happen. Your brain was screaming at you, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or shock, but you were powerless to stop him.

You reached out to place your hands on his when he parted your legs, and you didn’t know if it was to pull his hands away…or not. You caught a glimpse of him as he settled between your legs, stomach sinking as you blinked at the sight of him…bare…for you.

“Chris,” you mumbled, unsure of what you were going to say.

It didn’t matter, anyway. His lips were covering yours as he pressed the head of his cock against your folds, prodding and prolonging the inevitable. You thought about Alex, and that sobered you up a bit, but it was too late.

You threw your head back against the mattress, nails digging into Chris’ hands as he thrust inside of you. The noise that escaped him was orgasmic, the deep sound causing you to clench around his length. He hissed at that before completely leaning over you, forearms pressed into the mattress beside your head as he started to move.

Shallow breaths left your lips as he pumped into you, the squelching sound of his retreat and entry reaching your ears. Your eyes were unfocused, hands coming up to rest on his sides as you started to moan. He joined you, bending his head to kiss you again and again.

There were odd brief moments at the start of filming where you idly wondered what it would be like to kiss Chris. You never imagined that you’d find out for sure. Then when you and Alex happened, you’d left those girlish and embarrassing fantasies behind. His lips were soft and sweet with the taste of whatever drink he’d had, and he moved them over yours with so much expertise it made your head spin.

“That feel good?” he breathlessly wondered, jerking his hips into yours.

You gave a shaky nod.

“U-uh-huh,” you gasped, clenching around him.

“God, you’re so beautiful… You know that?” he mumbled, kissing you again.

Your toes flexed, stomach clenching as well.

“I thought about you all last night,” he quietly professed. “I thought about your lips and these fucking thighs and how it’d feel to be in between them…”

“Chris,” you whined.

“You’re so tight,” he hissed in your ear. “Tighter than I’d imagined you’d be.”

One of your hands traveled to his back, bunching up his shirt and sweater.

“Chris,” you gasped, breath hitching. “Chris, I think…”

Your words died on your tongue as you moaned, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer. He groaned against your skin, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“You gonna come for me?”

You gave a jerky nod, tightening your grip on him. He hissed when you clenched around him again, blue eyes boring into your own.

“Yeah? You’re fucking choking my cock. A greedy little thing,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off of yours. “Come on, baby. Show me what I do to you…”

You shook in his arms as your climax rushed over you, legs trembling and eyes rolling as you clenched around him again and again. He wasn’t done, fucking you through it until you were an incoherent mess beneath him.

You never did rejoin Tessa on the dance floor.

~

tags: @harryspet​ @coconutqueen21​ @readermia​ @nickyl316h​

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things-Damaged

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape, murder, and cheating. Canon-typical violence. 

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: and so we begin our descent into the world of slow-burn! this piece begins at the end of season 3 episode 13 & carries into seasons 3 episode 14. thank you to everyone who has interacted with my stories, commenting and reposting helps creators so much! enjoy this installment :)

The Purest Things Masterlist

Gif Credit: @hqtchner

january 2008

Bookend: “We are all damaged. We have all been hurt. We have all had to learn painful lessons. We are all recovering from some mistake, loss, betrayal, abuse, injustice or misfortune. All of life is a process of recovery that never ends. We each must find ways to accept and move through the pain and to pick ourselves back up....Each tragedy is an announcement that some good will indeed come in time. Be patient with yourself.” ― Bryant McGill

Another day, another murderer locked away. This case proved that sometimes, the so-called "good guys" can be just as selfish as the "bad guys." The special agent who recruited the BAU's help, Jill Morris, used this case to obtain personal fame and grow her career.

You sit next to Rossi aboard the plane. He had a more personal interaction with Morris throughout the case, and you can tell her actions have left him more than disappointed.

Looking out the window at the sun setting behind the clouds, you mumble to yourself, "What's the difference?"

"Did you say something?" Dave speaks up.

Looking to him, you brush it off, "Oh. Nothing. I was just talking to myself."

He crosses his legs and smiles a warm smile at you, "Penny, for your thoughts then."

"I guess...I just don't understand how Jill Morris's motives can be any different from Jeremy Andrus's. Of course, Jill didn't murder or rape anyone. But, she exploited this case for her own personal benefit. She didn't just use the unsub; she exploited the victims as well. How is that any different than Jeremy using women for his own gratification?"

David sighs, "Aristotle said, 'Every practical pursuit or undertaking seems to aim at some good.' Our brains are wired for love and solidarity. Greed forms to undermine that wiring and trick others into believing that their means to an end is done for "good." People believe that to maintain that myth, any and all costs to others are simply casualties in the long run."

"There is all the difference in the world between helping another soul and exploiting their hardship for your own gain and deceiving yourself that they are the same," he continues, "I tried to show Jill that. But, I think she's already determined that the reason she does this job is not for the same reasons that we do. The rush of catching a suspect comes second to the excitement she gets when being praised for her achievement."

"What happened to her empathy," you wonder, "Empathy is a natural foundation in each of our lives, and our society functions on it! How could that not overpower her desire for recognition? I mean, for Christ's sake, her friend just died!"

"Unfortunately," he solemnly says, "It is harder to understand the motives of our peers than it is to profile a serial killer."

+++++

You wake as if there is an emergency, like sleeping had become a deadly thing, your heart pounds, and thoughts jumble throughout your brain. Shooting up from your seat, you crawl over a sleeping Rossi and stumble your way to the bathroom.

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the edge of the sink. Looking cautiously into the mirror, as if you are uncertain of what you'll see, you take in your ghostly appearance. Sweat beads drip down your forehead. Unable to comprehend the blurry remnants of your dream, you turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you notice everyone is sound asleep. Thank goodness no one noticed your state of panic. You notice that one overhead reading light is on and look to see Hotch awake and blankly staring out the window.

"Can't sleep either?" You ask, sitting across from him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, trying to deflect your attention.

You squint at him, unwilling to back down, "Are you?"

He looks at you intently, taking the sight of you in inch-by-inch. No one has asked him that over the past few weeks. In fact, everyone has seemingly been avoiding him since he was served his divorce papers. Perhaps they are doing it because they are unsure how to support him or genuinely feel that what he needs right now is space.

However, you know that being alone is the last thing he needs right now. "Hotch, I know it isn't my place, and I--I'm sorry if this is overstepping. But that expression on your face that you've worn for the past few weeks isn't foreign to me. Perhaps to everyone else, it is. They don't know what to do or say. You're their unit chief, and they are used to you being strong and keeping it together for the sake of everyone else."

He straightens his posture, his attention centered on you.

"I witnessed firsthand the ways that divorce can torment people. My parents got a sudden divorce when I was 14. It was unexpected to all of us. My father was unfaithful, and although my mom was willing to forgive him, he didn't want to put in the work anymore. He found a new outlet for his frustrations. I watched my mother and father waste away for years," you lament.

Hotch sits on the edge of his seat, his eyes trained keenly on you. It was odd for him to make a connection so quick, to give his trust so easily. In fact, he hardly trusts at all. Dave and Haley are the only ones who have really been given an insider's peek into the mind and heart of Aaron Hotchner. There was something in the way he listens so actively to what you are saying. You would be lying if you said you didn't notice his gaze aimed at your lips.

There is a sympathetic and heartfelt concern he shows for you, one second only to your own regard for him. He listens like he is absorbing your words. The longer you spend in each other's presence, the more you both realize that this is the kind of friendship you both have needed for far too long. Even if the words go unspoken, you share an empathetic understanding of one another, and you are sure it has been there since the day you met. Hotch has been fascinated by you since he watched your interview with Strauss over and over again, though he would never let it be known.

+++++

February 2008

Today is the day that you get to accompany Hotch and Reid on the Criminal Personality Research Project to interview Chester Hardwick before his execution. Hardwick's case is one you know inside and out. You wrote a research report on it that was awarded the Graduate Student Ethics Writing Competition winner for the American Psychological Association and was published in their Ethics and Behavior journal. Agent Hotchner suggested that you tag along, considering you know just as much about the case as Spencer does.

You and Spencer absentmindedly fiddle with the knickknacks that rest upon the desk as you wait to be escorted to see Chester Hardwick.

Hotch's phone begins to ring, and he answers it, "Yeah, J.J... Um, no, it's--It's a personal matter. Yes, thank you. I will take care of it when I get back."

"Everything okay?" You ask softly.

"Yeah, fine." He says abruptly.

"We can do this interview another time," Reid offers.

Aaron huffs, "Well, he is scheduled to be executed next week."

"I can take the lead on the interview if you w-" Reid unintentionally pushes.

You cut him off, "Reid."

Hotch shoots you an appreciative look.

Anytime sir.

"Agent Hotchner?" A relatively short man wearing freakishly petite glasses comes to the door.

The Unit Chief shakes the man's hand and introduces you and Spencer.

"You're here to see our infamous inmate Hardwick," the warden exclaims.

"Yes," you say, "He agreed to meet with us as part of our Criminal Personality Research Project before his execution."

The man smiles widely, "I've read your research on Hardwick many times. I must say, seeing your perspective on the mind of such a prolific killer was very enlightening."

You beam with pride at his commendation. Instinctively you look to Hotch, who appears to have the slight trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You wonder, how can he go from scowling and frustrated one minute to fighting back the urge to smile at the mention of your achievements? You bite your lip to suppress any further needless excitement.

The warden continues to ramble, "Serial killers are kind of a hobby of mine. Chester is the only one I've ever met in person, though. I bet you've met quite a few."

"Sir," Hotch interjects, "We'd very much like to get started as soon as we can."

Time to put our serious pants back on.

You can visibly see your superior's annoyance, and you stifle a chuckle.

The warden quickly composes himself and apologizes for his enthusiasm, touching his hand to Hotch's shoulder in the process. Hotch's mouth falls agape, and his sights shoot to you. A small snort escapes you, and you cover your mouth, attempting to conceal it as a cough. He squints at you as if he is mentally murdering you. You crinkle your nose at him.

Don't mentally murder me when we are about to interview one of the most prolific killers of our time.

The warden leads you into the small cell that you will convert into a makeshift interrogation room. Soon enough, you hear the clanking of chains echoing in the hallway. Everyone's eyesight is fixed on the door.

A silver-haired man dressed in a yellow jumpsuit walks in with an air of arrogance and determination. He glares at Agent Hotchner, who mirrors the prisoner's actions exactly. Hotch states that keeping the prisoner chained will not be necessary, a call that both you and Spencer are unsure of.

Hardwick sits across from you and leans into the table, "I know you."

"And I know you. Too well, I think," you respond.

A menacing grin sweeps across his face, "Oh, I like you already. How about you send these two away so the grown-ups can talk."

You can hear your boss scoff from behind you.

"Chester, it's time to get serious."

"You were born April 4, 1950?" Spencer asks.

"Does my birthday really matter?"

"It's customary for us to start at the beginning. We want to know as much as we can about your childhood," Reid continues.

"There's nothing to know. It was average. I lived in a nice house on a quiet street. I ate cereal, went to school, watched cartoons."

"I don't have time for this," Hotch raises his voice, causing you to jump slightly, "You grew up in a series of projects, each one worse than the last. You spent your teenage years peeping into your female neighbors' windows and burglarizing their underwear drawers when you got the chance. You set 100 small fires for which you spent 2 years in juvenile detention."

You glance at Reid from the corner of your eye; you are both uncomfortable with the direction Hotch is taking this.

"We've done extensive research, Mr. Hardwick," you say, gently trying to soften the blow and appeal to the man's ego. If Hotch is taking the bad cop role, you need to be this psychopath's ally.

"We've talked to almost everyone you've ever known," you continue, "including your mother."

Chester swivels on the balls of his feet, "Good ol' Jean? I'll bet she was a real treat."

"At this point, lying to us isn't really possible or helpful," Spencer offers a slight smirk to the man.

"Y/N, right?" the prisoner turns his attention to you, "They're wrong. They're all wrong."

"About what, Chester?" You implore him.

"I started a lot more than one hundred fires," he peers out the window.

You look up at Hotch, and he sighs in surrender.

Chester antagonizes you three, stating that no one care's whether or not they hear the truth. In between his jabs, he strays to various different series of thoughts. Most are meaningless, but it is his way of trying to get under your skin. For you and Spencer, it is relatively easy to maintain your composure. For Hotch, however, Hardwick's digs do nothing but add fuel to the already lit flame under the special agent.

"Let's talk about the specifics of this case, Chester," you interrupt his rant, "Why did you choose Sheila O'Neal?"

He shakes his head, "You gotta show me a picture. I don't know their names."

As if you can feel Hotch's anger radiating off of his body, you brace yourself for the oncoming strike.

"Is that what this is all about," he says disgustedly, "Some chance for you to relive all of this?"

"I have an excellent memory," Chester brags.

You tune his impassionate speech out and focus your observance on your boss. His scalding stare at Hardwick can only translate one way, 'I have initiated my emotional indifference. I could kill you and not care one bit. So proceed with caution.'

"They were toys, a diversion," you hear Hardwick chant as you tune back into the present. Hotch looks anywhere but at the killer in front of him, his gaze eventually landing you. You are some kind of shelter to him that neither of you has yet acknowledged or come to understand.

Your stomach churns at Chester's descriptions of his victims. He describes them as useless objects that, once their purpose was served, were discarded like garbage.

"Why did you ask us here?" Hotch charges.

The wicked man looks at you, his eyes void of a soul and his stare sending a chill down your veins. 

"I wanted to speak to her." 

Your breath catches at the back of your throat.

With that, Hotch straightens up and fervently positions himself between Chester and you. "Reid, pack it up," he commands.

Reid looks to you, "Are you sure?"

"No, now." Your superior repeats himself with even more fervor. He presses the buzzer to signal the guards to release us and says, "Have a nice trip. You're going where you belong." Hotch makes sure to put as much distance between you and Hardwick as possible. He buzzes the ringer again. No response.

"It's 5:17," Hardwick chuckles.

You close your eyes, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Reaching out for Hotch's arm, you lower his hand from the buzzer. "The evening yard begins at 5 o'clock. No one is going to come open that door for-"

"At least thirteen minutes," Chester disrupts. He waltzes over the table and takes one of the images of his victims into his hand. Holding it up as if to brag to us about it, he says, "And it took me less than five minutes to do this."

You push aside your worry. Instead, you choose to focus on all of the information you have accumulated over the years about Chester Hardwick. There has to be something you can use to your advantage to diffuse this situation.

"Perhaps in all of your research, you should have familiarized yourselves with the guard tones," Hardwick jeers.

"I heard the tones," Hotch counters in a monotone voice.

"So you planned to be locked inside with me, with no guns or weapons."

Hotch shakes his head, his voice more natural than before, "I won't need a gun."

Spencer places his hand on your arm and begins to guide you to the other side of the room.

"There's no way I am going to be executed next week," Chester taunts, kneading his hands together. "Not after I kill three FBI agents. You saved my life by coming here." His venomous words ring in your ears.

Hotch's tone deepens, "Unfortunately for you, I am not a five-foot-one-hundred-pound girl."

Your pulse quickens at Hotch's threat, and your attention is rapt by his display of dominance. He begins to shed his jacket. You feel yourself flushing; attraction suddenly entangles you as if it were an invisible rope.

Now is the worst possible time to be feeling this. Calm down.

"All of your life, you've gone after victims who couldn't fight back," he fiercely says, "and the rest of the time you spent looking over your shoulder." You understand the intensity in his tone and sense a great deal of emotion behind his words.

He rips his tie from his collar, and your breathing hitches in the back of your throat. Hopefully, Spencer doesn't notice, and if he does, he chalks it up to the deadly situation you find yourself in.

"You were always worried about the knock on the door," Hotch doesn't back down, "Scared that somebody like me would be on the other side waiting to put you away."

Well, if you keep ripping your tie off like th--no. Not gonna go there right now. Focus on the pyshco-killer threatening to kill you.  

Now, Hotch intimidatingly points his finger directly at Hardwick.

If only I were on the receiving end of tha--no! Now. Is. Not. The. Time.

"At your core, you are a coward," Hotch fires.  

You have to do something. Hardwick is enraged, and Hotch has nothing left to lose.

Without even giving it a second thought, you blurt out, "Chester, do you want to know why you killed those women?"

"What?" The prisoner hisses.

Spencer speaks up, "Earlier, you said you wished you were different. We can tell you why you are...what you are."

He begins moving towards you, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice your boss carefully making equal strides. You motion for him to stop.

"You can tell me why I did what I did?"

"I think so," you nod, "Don't you, Dr. Reid?"

"I do. Your mother is bipolar. And almost certainly an undifferentiated schizophrenic. Your father suffered severe shell shock in the war, what we now refer to as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. As far as I can tell, he remained clinically depressed the rest of his life."

"Exactly," you say, giving Spencer a chance to gather his thoughts after having thrown him under the bus.

"53% of all serial killers have some form of mental illness inherent to their families. Chester, in your case, both of your parents suffered from psychological disorders, which they essentially took out on each other as much as they beat you. So, violence sort of became a normal expression of love in your household," you say, eager to have some kind of breakthrough with him while subliminally directing Spencer's string of thoughts to follow yours.

Allowing Reid to pick up where you leave off, he takes charge of the conversation and explains how a portion of one's brain wants what it wants without conscience or judgment. A part of the brain that no doubt took over Hotch's reasoning powers moments ago, though you do not blame him.

"Earlier, you said your victims never had a chance. I think you know deep down that it was you that never really had a chance," he concludes. And with that victorious resolution, the guards unlock the door. Hotch storms out, and Reid follows behind.

"Is that true that I never had the chance?" Hardwick calls out after you both.

You stop in your tracks, "I don't know."

"Maybe," Spencer nudges you out the door.

++++

In the car, Hotch looks at you in the rearview mirror, "That was smart to get Hardwick to focus on himself long enough for the guards to come back."

You pat Spencer's shoulder, "I give all the credit to boy wonder and his beautiful statistic-filled brain. I'm sorry for all of the times I said you were running out of storage with all of that useless data."

"I find that I do some of my best work under intense terror," he declares, "Wait. Useless data? When did you say that?"

You pinch him softly and chuckle, "I'm kidding."

"I'm sorry," Hotch sighs.

You meet his gaze in the mirror once again, "For what?"

His chestnut eyes reveal pangs of remorse and guilt, but something tells you there's more to those feelings than what occurred at the prison.

"I antagonized the situation."

"No, you didn't," Spencer states.

"I certainly didn't help."

"Well, I can't argue with you there," you kid.

His piercing eyes suddenly twinkle, causing you to blush slightly. You quickly look down at your feet until your cheeks cool down.

Hotch sighs in defeat, "So Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested so that nobody wastes money on lawyers."

That statement is all too familiar to you. Yet again, your heart shatters for the Hotchners.

"You don't want to?" Spencer asks innocently.

He means well, but you know from experience that such a question only unleashes a tidal wave of painful emotions for the one fighting for his family.

"What I want, I'm not going to get," Hotch laments.

His eyes, once filled with depth, now distant and empty.

++++

Glancing up from your paperwork and into your supervisor's office, you take note of his gravity-drawn shoulders that carry the weight of the world on them. He repeatedly picks up a stack of papers and then drops them back down atop his desk, covering his face with his hands.

"What do you think is going on up there?" Derek asks, pointing his pen in the direction of the office.

"I might have an idea. I'm going to go take my report; anyone else's done?" They all hand you their paperwork for you to deliver to the boss.

You hesitate to knock on his door but apprehensively do so anyways.

He invites you in. Your heart sinks as you approach his desk, able to get a closer look at his beaten expression. You always knew he was hiding pain behind his tough exterior, but now he wears it on the surface, most likely unintentionally.

Placing the paperwork on his desk, you notice the heading on the papers he was gripping tightly.

SUPREME COURT STATE OF VIRGINIA: MARITAL SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT

Hotch's eyes move slowly, laboriously, to look at you as if it takes a concentrated effort to do so.

"Heartache is a real thing," you sympathize with him, "In fact, Reid even told me that a broken heart can show up on medical scans. When a heart breaks, your body and brain need time to recuperate. There's no set amount of time or remedy that will heal you. Don't set your expectations of yourself too high, and surround yourself with the people who love you."

His chin trembles, and his eyes flutter as he blinks back tears.

You turn to leave the room but look over your shoulder one last time, "We are all here for you, Hotch."

Just as you are about to shut the door, you hear him call out to you, "Y/L/N!"

His stare reveals a vulnerability you have had yet to see in him.

"Call me Aaron."

Tag List 🏷

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[itscominghome]

More Than Anything

Requested by: @lottievieira27

Summary: You moved over to London from your home in Brazil to get sports physiotherapy experience with Chelsea FC. Your visit made permanent when you meet your now boyfriend, Kepa Arrizabalaga. After living there for two years, you decide it's time to go back home and see your family for Christmas. And this time, Kepa comes with you.

Based at Christmas 2021

Notes: This whole request was completely deleted from my drafts for some reason. The anguish I went through whilst rewriting half of this was insane, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes and typos or the writing is sloppy.

"Kep?" I call out as I see my boyfriend walk past the living room door.

"Yes, mi amor?" he replies, taking a few steps back and popping his head around the doorframe.

"So, you know how I'm going back to Brazil for Christmas," he nods his head, "well, I was thinking-"

"Oh, that's a dangerous thing," Kepa replies with a smirk, I glare at him, feigning offence.

"Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. Would you want to come with me and meet my family?" Kepa's face lights up.

"Really!? Yeah! Of course I'll to come with you!"

So, that's how, a month later, we were both on a plane, on our way to Rio. My head was rested his shoulder and his head on mine. We were both woken up by the bumps of the runway and my excitement only intensified. Both excited to see my family again, and to introduce them to my boyfriend.

The entire walk to my parents was spent with my hand tightly intertwined with Kepa's. The cold causing us to huddle together as we walk for warmth. Kepa and I had been together for just over a year now. We'd met at Chelsea, where I was getting work experience for sports physiotherapy and at his first session with me, we had completely hit it off. I was decently close with all of the Chelsea team, but me and him, we just had that extra bit of chemistry. That better connection. So when Covid had hit and the country went into lockdown, we'd agreed to live together so neither of us were alone. And within three months, things just slotted into place. It had all been in the public eye from quite early on. Kepa is quite territorial, wanting everyone to know I was his, though he knew it didn't stop the lingering looks from guys at parties. The press and Chelsea fans didn't originally agree with our relationship, claiming it to be unprofessional having a player and a physiotherapist together from the same team. Tuchel had no problem with it though, so we continued. After a few months the press and fans had changed their mind on our relationship, enjoying how open we were about being together and loving all the cutesy content they would receive.

I had met Kepa's family in the Christmas of 2020 and I loved every second of my time spent over in Spain. His mum and I had gotten on very well, her telling me as we cooked dinner one night that she thought I was 'the best thing that had ever happened to her son'. We had never talked about it directly, but of course I knew about the split held had from his long-term girlfriend of the time. She had told me how hard it had been for him and how much I'd helped him get his confidence back. Though, I know he'd done that all by himself, he just needed that little bit of a push.

Knock. Knock. Knock. The door had flung open almost immediately and I was greeted by both of my parents. My mum pulled me into a tight hug, as did my dad when she pulled away. After the greetings between myself and my parents, I began to introduce Kepa who was stood just out of sight.

"Mãe, pai, I have someone I'd like you to meet," I say as Kepa moves to stand by my side, "This is Kepa, my boyfriend," I finish with a sense of pride, smiling up at him. My face changes very quickly as he starts to speak Portugese.

"Ei, é muito bom finalmente conhecer vocês dois*," I stand there with a look of confusion, brows furrowed and nose scrunched up a little bit. He shakes my father's hand. My Mum is smiling widely, I always knew she would like Kepa, but I also knew that my Dad would need more convincing.

"É um prazer conhecê-lo também, nós ouvimos tudo sobre você" he replies.

"Yeah, I haven't quite got that far yet," Kepa laughs back as my mum pulls him into a hug, kissing both of his cheeks in greeting. After the initial introduction, we're invited in, engulfed by the warmth of the house.

"So, the most expensive goalkeeper in the world, eh?" My dad questions as we talk about Kepa's football career.

"Yes sir, but unfortunately I've been on the bench for a while, I had a bit of a knockback, but I'm getting better. And it's all because of your daughter," he replies, smiling fondly at me.

"I've not done anything really, it was all you, I've just been there to support you,"

"Yeah, and that's what I've needed, and you gave me it without second thought,"

After a few hours of talking, it was starting to get late and everyone was starting to get hungry.

"Y/N/N, can you come and help me prepare some food?" my Mum asks and of course I comply. Within maybe ten minutes, I have Kepa stood behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to my lips occasionally. My mum gushes over it all as we continue to cook.

"Kep, babe, why don't you go back into the living room, have a beer with my Dad or something, talk about football?" He pouts a little bit, not wanting to leave my side, but does eventually go back into the other room, reluctantly.

"Your dad really likes him, you know?" My mum says with a smile, "So do I, he clearly loves you a lot." I smile at the ground almost shyly.

"He's good for you, and by the sounds of it, you're good for him. We've seen all the stuff the press has said. And The Sun, oh they just love to rip into your relationship even a year later, and you've stayed strong through it all. You're meant for one another. And me and your dad know that we aren't going to see you all the time anymore because you've found him, but we also understand that you've grown up and you leaving Brazil permanently to be with him, it is going to be one of the best decisions you'll ever make. He makes you so happy, and we can see that in the way you look at each other. He adores you."

After dinner, we had moved back into the living room, Kepa still sucking up and telling both me and my mum how delicious the food had been. I'd tried telling him how much my family already loved him, but his aim to please was too high. When we had sat back down, I cuddled up to my boyfriend on one of the couches, sat opposite my parents. Him and my dad were in deep conversation about his time at Chelsea, his life back in Spain, just making an effort to get to know each other, my Mum occasionally getting involved. My eyes started to get heavy, so I just let them slowly close. I don't know how long I had been asleep for, but when I woke back up, my head had been moved to Kepa's lap and his fingers ran softly through my hair. I hadn't opened my eyes yet, catching onto the current conversation going on whilst they thought I was asleep.

"Do you love her?" My Dad asks. And without missing a beat, Kepa replies.

"Mais do que nada*,"

*Ei, é muito bom finalmente conhecer vocês dois = Hey, it's nice to finally meet you both.

*Mais do que nada =

More than anything.

[poohkeepsee]

I was going through my AO3 bookmarks, and I wanted to organize them a little bit. These are my Dean/Cas canon-ish fic recs.

season 5

canticles  by  2street2car Words: 10,311     Chapters: 1

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

FTBYAM MY BELOVED

post season 6

Someone Who's Feeling For Me  by  ellispark  Words: 45,876     Chapters: 1

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

post bunker

Sun Can't Set Until Nine  by  LeverDrift Words: 67,939     Chapters: 16

Cas moves into the bunker as his powers start to fail. Dean doesn’t know if the arrangement is as permanent as he wants it to be. He's also not sure why he keeps dreaming about his friend. All he knows is that he wants Cas to stay. Overall warnings: canon-typical miscommunication & Dean having self-hatred issues.

Life Skills  by  ilovehowyouletmefall           Words: 26,052     Chapters: 3

After Metatron steals Castiel's grace, and Cas comes to live in the bunker, Dean spends a lot of time with him, sharing all of his favourite things. Dean can't help it if sharing things with Cas just makes everything better. Besides, it's Dean's job as Cas' friend to introduce him to the joys of human life. To teach him how to be human.  And if one of the experiences they end up sharing is sex with women, well... that's just part of Dean's job as Cas' friend too, right? The desire is triangulated, the rituals are intricate.

Sam Stole My Boyfriend  by  sobsicles    Words: 8,445     Chapters: 1

“Dude, you’ve been staring at me a lot lately, like even enough that Sam noticed. More than usual. So, like, what’s up?” Dean pauses, purses his lips and reconsiders. “What did I do?”

Cas knows that would be a perfect time to confess to Dean what exactly happened and what he was thinking. Maybe, Dean had some insight into the situation or even some kind of comfort to offer. But, the longer that he sat there, he realized that he could not tell Dean absolutely anything. So instead, for the first time, Cas fumbled.

“Um,” Cas mutters and abruptly stands. “Freckles?”

Dean blinked up at him as Cas pivoted and left the room. There was only one remaining option he had and unfortunately, it involved Sam.

Aching in the Absence of You  by  sobsicles Words: 95,090     Chapters: 10

Brittle and battle-worn, Cas looks at him over coffee one morning and says, "I need to go," and Dean instantly knows that he's not coming back.

He's not really sure how he knows it, but he does. It settles into the pit of his stomach, curling hot and tight like something he instinctively wants to tear out with his bare hands. He takes a breath, and it gets stuck in his throat, hitching there. It hurts, hurts, hurts when he finally exhales.

"Yeah," Dean says, "of course you do," and he nods jerkily as he looks down at his phone. He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't look up from the screen when Cas gets up and leaves the room. He doesn't finish his coffee, or move for a long time.

By nightfall, Cas is gone.

'Communication'  by  JustAnotherSamlicker Words: 11,656

The same story told from two perspectives.

Dean bought a house and he and Cas fix it up.

Is Dean moving out? Is Cas moving in?

Should they just talk to each other already? (Yes they should)

Build a Home  by  domesticadventures Words: 20,102

After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them.

He doesn't

season 10

The Most Important Thing  by  NorthernSparrow Words: 94,462     Chapters: 14

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

season 12

Heroes for Ghosts  by  pantheon_of_discord Words: 42,922     Chapters: 7

Canon-divergent from 12.08

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

season 13

i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees)  by  sobsicles   Words: 74,173     Chapters: 8

Dean keeps going back.

When he arrives, it's always to blooming flowers and a windmill in the background, not too far from a brook, the sun painting the plains.

He likes it there. He likes to stand in front of the makeshift urn and check that it's still where he put it, switching out the flowers when they wilt. He likes to listen to the sound of birds chirping, insects singing, the faint sound of water trickling in the distance. He likes to turn his face up and feel the sun on his skin, wondering if Cas would do the same if he were here, somehow knowing that he would.

He likes to talk.

There's never a response, but Dean feels the breeze rustle through his hair and watches the flowers bob when bees come to them and stares as the windmill keeps turning, turning, turning. And he imagines that Cas is replying—the windmill is the tilted head, the bobbing flowers are a gentle smile, the breeze is whatever words Dean wants to hear at the time.

Sometimes, it's almost like he's there.

Trial and Tribulations of Raising a Nephilim  by  Sickandtiredofyou Words: 14,910   Chapters: 6

Dean has far too much on his plate, losing his mom, his best friend and now being a single parent to a newborn nephilim.

In which Jack is an actual newborn instead of a teenager.

post season 13

dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination)  by  sobsicles           Words:     108,427     Chapters:     4

Freedom is just one adjustment after the next.

Cas hums again. "I think you already have. It's been months since everything settled. All that's left to do is...get used to it, and perhaps—" His voice stalls out, uncharacteristically, and his gaze roams Dean's face with intensity. When he speaks next, his tone is a little raw. "Perhaps what one does with peace is...whatever they want."

"What if I don't even know what that is?" Dean grumbles, arching an eyebrow in challenge. "'Cause I know damn well you don't just mean good food and a good bed and time in Baby, not simple wants like that. You mean—ya know, the big things, the wants we didn't get to have before."

"Yes," Cas agrees. "If you're not sure, figure it out."

"Easier said than done."

Reasons to read this:

Dean reads a story that ends like despair and his reaction is FUCK THAT

Cas wears Dean's hoodie

Jack is a toddler

The Jack and Claire sibling energy we deserve

Eileen being awesome and pulling pranks with Dean while Sam thinks she's an angel

Sam knows

YOUR HONOR THEY'RE IN LOVE

First Date  by  aeli_kindara Words: 8,968    Chapters: 1

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

Also known as the Dean Winchester makes the first move fic.

season 14

Broken Road  by  thegeminisage Words:     109,629     Chapters:     7

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.

post season 15

fools and pilgrims  by  lagaudiere Words: 31,904     Chapters: 2

Claire shows up at the bunker a day before Dean was planning to leave, with her hair cut short and a fresh tattoo on her left arm under a bandage. Chuck is dead, Jack has given up his godlike powers, and Cas is back from the Empty, which doesn't make it any easier for Dean to talk to him. Suddenly finding himself in a world without monsters, supernatural forces, or any need for hunters, Dean's solution is to go on a road trip. Claire tags along.

Dean-Claire mirror fic post Despair

what's missing is found (our souls can exhale now)  by  sobsicles Words: 27,403

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

canon(?) au  (Hunters and Men of Letters)

Dean Winchester's Secret (Angel) Boyfriend  by  reluctantabandon, Winter_of_our_Discontent Words: 11,191     Chapters: 1

Dean Winchester isn't exactly a team player. So when he starts mentioning a new Hunting partner, Ellen and Jo Harvelle aren't sure whether they should be worried or relieved.

But they're starting to get the feeling there's something important Dean's not telling them about Cas...

Shot Through The Heart  by  peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim) Words: 11,191     Chapters: 1

Dean is a hunter.

Castiel is a Man of Letters.

And even though they have to work together on a regular basis, there is not much sympathy between them. Castiel thinks Dean too brash and reckless while Dean in return sees nothing more in the other man than a rude asshole with an obsessive love for books and a truly terrible fashion sense.

But fate clearly has a funny way of throwing those two together over and over again.

And somewhere along the way feelings change into something neither of them would have expected.

[lucysometimeswrites]

Hey can you please make a award season one but for a latina reader, if you would like you can keep the tom element. Sorry I'm asking again I accidentally deleted the last ask I made. I love your writing, you are amazing.❤️☺️

thank you thank you so much ur so sweet and of course! here you go and i hope you like it :) absolutely loved writing for latina!reader 

Awards Season (latina!reader)

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

“Here to present the award for Best Actress in a Leading Role, please welcome Meryl Streep!” the host announced. A roar came from the audience at the mention of her name, the very acclaimed actress welcoming the attention and making her way to the microphone.

“Oh, stop it” she said and waved them away, earning a laugh and even more cheering from the theatre. “If I’m honest, I really considered not presenting this award because it breaks me inside to give the Oscar to someone else when it’s rightfully mine” she said in a funny, raspy evil voice, resembling a witch, “But you know, sharing is caring or whatever. Alright let’s get to it.” she continued dejectedly, still joking.

“This year, we have been blessed with beautiful films and, along with them, incredible performances from beautiful and talented actresses. Viola Davis, your abilities to embody different characters and raise awareness to ongoing issues in society has always amazed us, and it does once again in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”, Meryl announced, the camera going to Viola who was sitting about 10 seats to my left, the audience (including me) applauding and praising her. Literally all of her performances are incredible.

Could I still believe I was here? Definitely not, and not any time soon. From small skits to my big break with Tom Holland in a stupid rom-com that I didn’t even want to make, to now. Tom knows it’s nothing against him, it’s just that I haven’t learned to appreciate romantic comedies the way he has, but the thing I loved most from doing it was finishing it with Tom. He had become such an important person in my life since that moment, what with guiding me through the newfound world of fame and being there for me when I joined the Marvel franchise, it was just more than I could ever dream of. Now I sit here at the freaking Oscars, with Tom Holland as my date, and having done one of the greatest films ever, nothing could keep the smile off my face. Or the nerves.

 My leg kept bouncing up and down, a nervous action I often did and one that the guy beside me had caught on to real quick when we first met. His warm hand gently squeezed my thigh, and I turned to look at him a little surprised.

“Hey, it’s okay” he softly said, his gaze soft and comforting.

“I didn’t even realize I was doing it” I answered in the same tone, whispering a thank you and letting my hand rest on top of his, weirdly interlocking our fingers. 

Meryl turned to where Olivia Colman was sitting, “Your Majesty,” she started, referencing her portrayals of royalty and causing her to chuckle, “your moving performances have always left us wanting more, and I’m sure that is what I and everyone felt when we saw you in The Father” a big smile broke out on her face, and cheering ensued once more for our queen, or at least one of mine.

“Aging is some we all go through...unfortunately,” Meryl uttered into the mic, touching up her almost white hair, “and you, Cynthia Erivo, made us relate to your character this way with your brilliant acting in Reaching 39″, that woman is simply amazing, I thought as I clapped and cheered with the audience.

“My dear Kate,” the camera panned to Kate Winslet, who just stared fondly at the woman on the stage, “watching you grow as an actress has been one of the pleasures of my life and you reach new heights both professionally and literally in Misdemeanors”, she is such an icon, oh my.

Finally, Meryl Streep turned to look at me in the front row with a grin on her face, and I quickly got into “camera mode”, as I like to call it. I sat up straighter, looking at her with gentle eyes and smile. 

“Señorita Y/N Y/L,” she started with the heavily accented Spanish word for Ms., “with your entrance into the world of filmmaking, you have set new expectations for all of us to reach. Even though this is your first nomination, I feel in my heart it won’t be the last, and we can’t wait to see more of you like we saw with your extraordinary performance in Paraíso” she finished, bringing a big smile to my face at her words. Turning to the camera, I became a bit shy and gave a small wave, feeling Tom squeeze my hand in comfort and another hand on my shoulder from behind. I turned to see Salma Hayek, one of my co-stars in the film, who gave me a strong nod and smile, loudly saying “Eso!” as a cheer for me.

“And the Oscar goes too...” ayyyyy no ay no que nervios que nervios que nervios me muero- all of this going through my head repeatedly but having to put on a smile and a calm façade for the camera was exhausting. Tranquila, tranquila, si no ganas está bien igual solo el hecho de estar aquí ya es lo más-

“Y/N Y/L, Paraíso!” Meryl announced, and all I heard were screams and loud clapping from around me. 

Shocked, I looked up with wide eyes and my jaw going slack a little. I felt a buzz fill my body and the idol on the stage beckoned me up, when I realized I hadn’t moved. I slowly stood up and instantly turned to Tom who quickly pulled me into his arms with a strong hug and whispering in my year, “I knew it! I knew you would do it darling. I’m so so proud of you babe, go get your award!” not giving me a chance to answer as he gave me a quick kiss and turned me around in the direction of the stage. Still in a bit of a daze, I didn’t see Salma, Eugenio (Derbez), and Benicio (del Toro) make their way to me, ambushing me in a group hug as they started jumping around and sort of with me, chanting “EH! EH! EH!” like Latinos at a party and causing me to laugh and come back to my senses. I hugged them all and continued to the stairs, stopping to hug my directors Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón. 

I lifted my dress as I ascended the steps, and in true nervous fashion, stumbled and almost face planted in front of thousands of people. 

“Uy, mierda” I chuckled to myself, and accepted the help of none other than Chris Evans who lent his arm for the remaining steps. I thanked him with a smile and after his Congrats!, I made my way to Meryl who held the famous award in her hands. She handed it to me and pulled me into her embrace, saying “Beautiful job, sweetheart, you’re amazing”, and all I could answer was “Oh my, thank you so much, you’re the amazing one”, sharing a laugh with her and standing in front of the mic.

I looked out into the audience, who were still giving me a standing ovation. Almost like a camera in my head, I tried to ingrain this moment in my mind and took a deep breath, starting my speech.

“God, I really hope I don’t forget any words in English right now” I said with a breathless laugh, inciting one from the people below me. “Thank you so much. Thank you to...um...so many people. To the Academy for this great, great honor. To my fellow nominees for inspiring me every single day. Being in the same room as you is already insane, let alone being nominated with you, it’s just- it’s truly out of this world. Viola, Olivia, Kate, Cynthia, you are my literal idols and if I could physically cut this Oscar into five pieces,” I said as I made a motion of cutting the award and humoured the audience, “I would give a piece to all of you. Um, thank you to my team, my agent, Victoria, te adoro y te agradezco for believing in me and helping me live out my dream. Sorry, I’m probably gonna switch between languages during this.” I said with a laugh. 

“Paraíso was a project that, for me, came out of nowhere. But for my extraordinary directors los señores Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón, it was a life’s work so to you, gracias por darme la oportunidad de darle vida a Marielos and for giving me the experience of a lifetime. Salma, Eugenio, Benicio, Gael, and all the cast and crew, thank you for becoming my second family and supporting me every step of the way. It has been my honor to work with you” I said with a hand on my chest, showing that I was speaking from my heart and smiling at the kisses and cheers sent to me from them, hearing a crazed Te amamos! from Eugenio. It eased the tension in my body which I was incredibly thankful for. 

“I also want to thank-” I stopped, getting a little choked up, “ha, sorry, it’s my family that couldn’t be here” I said, a wave of claps and cheering in comfort came from the audience. Quickly composing myself, I continued, “Ya, okay. All the way back home, lo hice! Familia, les dije que no les iba a agradecer si me ganaba un Oscar algún día por no creer en mi y hoy es ese día, pero no me lo perdonaría si no les agradezco. Gracias por apoyarme a pesar de que yo sé que les dio un ataque que quisiera ser actriz. Gracias por siempre estar ahí para mi, por quererme incondicionalmente y por enseñarme que trabajando duro todo se puede lograr. Los amo infinitamente.” I finished, with tears threatening to roll down my eyes. I tilted my head to the sky to prevent them from falling, and with a deep breath I turned to Tom who had his hands in a prayer stance while looking intently at me, the same smile from before still gracing his face.

“Tommy...” I started, and the audience audibly awed at the nickname, “Oh, you don’t even know what I’m gonna say to him” I said with narrowed eyes, but my gaze found my love once more.

“Thank you so much for being my rock ever since we met. I’m beyond thankful for you and all you do for me, baby. You make me the happiest and thank you for pushing me to do things that scare me. For being there for me in case I fall and for being my person. Te amo, amor.” I blowed him a kiss which he caught and jokingly used to wipe his tears, making me and the other celebrities laugh.

Please wrap up, I read from the screen, and let out and “Ay, perdón! I gotta wrap up sorry sorry” hurriedly finishing up my speech. 

“Lastly, this award goes out to all the Latina girls out there with big dreams. Nunca se den por vencidas. No dejen que nadie les diga que no porque de que se puede, se puede. Querer es poder! I love you guys, my fans oh my gosh, thank you thank you, gracias!” I rushed out, raising the award to the air with one last big smile as Meryl guided me backstage to answer some questions. Just before I was off sight, I turned and looked out to the stage once more.

Lo logré...

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

once again, disclaimer, movie names are mostly fictitious. feedback and requests always welcome!

[songbirdsingingthings]

Baby It’s Cold Outside - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO KOHEI HORIKOSHI

DAY SEVEN OF 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST - MAIN MASTERLIST

Rarely did Katsuki Bakugou invite you over for a stay-at-home date at his house, but today was one of the exceptions. You were both hidden away in his room, his arms around yours as the two of you sat atop his bed watching a holiday movie. Earlier in the day, his mother fawned over you a bit, trying to convince you to model a few new works of her and Bakugou’s father’s collection, but you were quickly ushered upstairs as Bakugou pulled you into his room.

“This kid gets it, he’s not taking shit from them.” You feel his voice vibrate against his chest and you laugh, squeezing your hand around his bicep. This was Katsuki’s first time watching Home Alone and you doubted that it would be your last.

“I’m glad you like it.” You quip back. You don’t have to look at him to know that he was playfully glaring at you. He presses a wet kiss to your cheek, causing you to squirm a bit in his grasp, snickers escaping your mouth. You wipe your cheek which causes your boyfriend to immediately replace the kiss,

“Oi, you can’t wipe it off. I gave you that shit, you appreciate it.” You hum in response, reaching into your pocket. You glance at the time and all but spring from Katsuki’s hold and start gathering your things.

“Crap, I lost track of the time. I’m supposed to be home in fifteen minutes.” You say, voice thick with panic as you start to wrap your scarf around your neck. Katsuki grumbles but gets up to help you, however he stops as he looks out the window.

“Y/N/N, look.” He says, staring outside of it. He gets no response from you so he resorts to your less cute nickname. “Hey, dumbass, get over here.” This grabs your attention so you entertain his request and follows his gaze.

“Oh wow, it’s snowing. I better get home quick, it looks like it’s coming down pretty quickly.” You shove your hat on and make a move for the door but he slides over in front of you.

“Um, hell no. You are not walking home, it's way too cold outside. You should just stay here tonight.” Your blonde boyfriend stated, his arms crossed. You smile cheekily at his attempt as you step out of his room and walk down the hallway towards the main staircase.

“Nuh uh, I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.” you say, whispering the last part at him. His house was much bigger than yours so you underestimate the time it takes to walk down a single hallway, giving Katsuki plenty of time to deter you. “Look, babe, I had an amazing time tonight but I seriously gotta go. You know my mom, she’s nice, but when I come home late from staying at my boyfriend’s house - after she’s repeatedly told me to be back on time - it’s not going to be pretty.” You know you’ve caught him there because he doesn’t pose a rebuttal, but he does go for a different angle.

“You’re gonna freeze outside and then I’m gonna be up until midnight getting an earload from you about how cold you were.” He argues. You scoff a bit at that and continue your pursuit.

“You won’t hear an earload from me, I promise. Now, you got anything else you wanna try to make me stay with or what?” You ask, smirking. The two of you stand there for a few minutes until the blonde grasps the pom-pom that topped off your hat, pulling it off of you and smoothing your hair down.

“There. Your hair looks nice.” You sigh, trying to snatch your beanie back from him but to no avail - he held it up above your head.

“Thank you, but flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Really now?” He mumbles, pressing you against the wall closest to the two of you. “Your eyes are like starlight.” He says, a serious look in his face. Unfortunately, this does indeed make you blush. Once Katsuki gets that reaction from you, he pulls back and snickers, poking your nose.

“That is such bull, you know I’m a sucker for old-fashioned compliments like that.” You say, arms at your sides and face red. “You’re being pretty pushy about this, huh.” You remark, slowly walking down the stairs.

“Well, maybe if you stayed I could spend more time with you like you’ve been bugging me about.” You flash him a faux glare with a grin. You finally make it down to his front door, ready to step out into the cold, harsh winter when you remember you didn’t bring over a suitable coat that would protect your body from the snow.

“Hey, would you mind lending me your coat? I don’t think mine will hold up out there.” You flash him an innocent smile, eyes wide begging him to indulge you. He sighs, rather loudly, and reaches up to pluck his coat off of the coat rack.

“Arms.” He says simply. You reach them out so he can help you put the heavy thing on. He finally makes his way in front of you and zips up the jacket all the way to the top so that only your nose and the top half of your face is poking out. He breathes through his nose and steps even closer to you. “So there’s nothing else I can do or say to make you stay?” He murmurs, eyes just the tiniest bit sullen. You feel your heart longing to stay with him in his warm house, waking up in the morning to have a delicious breakfast with him. Maybe he would even make it for you. But, you shook your head and smiled.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could, but I’ve gotta go.” Katsuki gives you a defeated smile and tugs on the top of your zipper, moving your head closer to him so he can leave a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Alright, well, be careful out there. I don’t want a popsicle for a girlfriend.” He says. Giving him a wonky hug due to his large jacket covering your form, you open the door to make a move outside, when all of a sudden Mitsuki calls to you.

“Y/N, hun, where are you going? I already called your mom to tell her that I think you should stay here tonight and she agreed. The guest bedroom’s already prepped but I won’t mention it to your mom if you decide to spend the night in Katsuki’s room.” She winks and saunters away into their family’s living room. “And Katsuki, you better be gracious towards your guest!” She yells. Your boyfriend doesn’t even have time to yell at his mom before he pulls you back into the house, unzipping the jacket and giving you a kiss - once he was sure his mother was out of sight.

“Okay fine. I guess I’ll stay.” You say, fake exasperation leaking from your voice. He grabs your hand and leads you back into his room, closing the door. He grabs you and positions you in the same way you were when watching the movie. Katsuki grabs the remote from next to him and presses play on the t.v. .

“Well, that took a lot of convincing.”

[stxrvel]

cowboy like me

summary: a bad day for Bucky, a splendid week for the woman. mixed feelings and memories of a stormy past prevent Bucky from giving voice to his true feelings. (I'm really sorry I'm so bad at summary's)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2k or so.

warnings: poor bucky letting his feelings get the better of him and saying mean things from time to time, sorry bout that. oh, and I wrote this in the third person, I don't know if that's a warning but still. and last but not least, English is not my native language so I apologise in advance for any mistakes.

also, the title of this and the part of the song quoted below only inspired the setting of this one-shot. the "plot" is independent of the theme song. I just have a bunch of taylor's songs that inspires me scenarios like this with independent plots, it's like a hobby. and ALSO, this is my first fic in here, and I really hope to do more parts in the future, especially when this semester is over. so, I hope you like it!

you're a bandit like me eyes full of stars hustling for the good life

It had not rained like this for quite some time. Lightning echoed in every part of the city and the drops were crashing against the window glass with the speed of a Maserati on a winding road; the sky was dark even though it was only four o'clock in the afternoon. Inside the room, the atmosphere was warm and comfortable, one of the reasons she stopped by at least five times a week. However, a few minutes before the downpour began, the whole atmosphere had turned so grey that for a moment it seemed as if the clouds were bringing a bad omen...

But no, it was only him.

The man who always sat next to her in the cafeteria to use one of the computers that the café provided as a service.

Besides the sound of the bell above the door and his soaked boots, it was his exasperated sigh that caught her attention before she looked away from her laptop screen.

His hair fell over his forehead with a few raindrops slipping from his forehead and temples, until they were lost under his jawline and mingling in the cotton of his shirt. The frown he kept on his face did not disappear as he tried, very unsuccessfully, to dry his clothes by shaking them slightly.

He would definitely do anything to keep that leather jacket and gloves on.

The smell of coffee and the hustle and bustle of the room contrasted with the calm but resignedly helpless attitude of the man who was running his hands heavily over his trousers as if they were a portable hairdryer.

Michael, one of the waiters who occasionally gave them ham and cheese croissants on Saturdays when they were both there, approached the sulking man and, seconds later, they both disappeared into the kitchen behind the till.

The screen of her mobile phone lit up as she tried to refocus on the reading she had to do.

Betty: I still don't understand how not wanting to visit your abusive dad in hospital is an important topic of conversation in a counselling session. I mean, the words abusive father say it all.

Tell me you're on my side.

Me: I still think you should change your psychologist.

Betty: I know! But at that clinic it's 30% cheaper than getting a private one. But, I already have a solution, next week I'll...

The squeak of the chair next to her being dragged startled her and her mobile phone almost flew out of her hands. The grumpy man, now a little drier, dropped the weight of his giant body on the poor chair so that it squeaked as if complaining about the man's rudeness. He stared at the computer screen on as if it held the solution to all his problems.

“Bad day?”

“Just an unfortunate string of inconveniences since I opened my eyes this morning,” he commented seriously and gravely as he began to move his hands over the keyboard. He hadn't looked at her when he spoke, which was not unusual, but at the moment it felt inappropriate, “Nothing I'm not used to.”

The woman turned her head to look at the twenty-seven pages she still had to read, and it seemed too tedious a thing to spend her time on now that Bucky had arrived.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I'm going to apply for a job at a daycare, maybe I could start practicing with you.”

Bucky faked a laugh, rather bitter and strained the kind she was used to hearing, “Very funny,” he said, his gaze dark and fixed on the screen.

“Sometimes you laugh at my jokes.”

“When they're funny,” he blurted out as soon as she finished speaking, instantly regretting it but not showing it in his body language.

“Hey! Don't hurt my feelings like that. What happened with your therapist? If you want to talk about it, sure.”

She watched his body tense and how he made no attempt to hide the bitter expression on his face as soon as the word "therapist" left her mouth. The woman thought she'd made a poor choice of words, yet Bucky felt unsettled by how strangely easily she seemed to be able to read his attitudes. Since when had she started doing such things? Had she always been that way? Had he let his guard down that much these past few weeks?

“Just... trouble, in general,” he pronounced her name with feigned gentleness, sending a shiver down her spine. Had he noticed by now? So soon? She thought, hastily.

“Okay,” she mumbled, trying to keep her composure as her mind worked at full speed, “I understand if you don't want to talk about it.”

No, he couldn't have noticed. Regardless of how damaged and broken she was inside, she knew that wasn't something Bucky paid the most detailed attention to. And, even if that were the case, there wasn't a person on the planet who knew her better than he did at this point, so if he wanted to walk away and leave her to not deal with her problems and constant chatter, he would have done so long ago.

Bucky sighed deeply, the movement of his chest aching from the lump in his throat. His hands moved on automatic over the keyboard, digging into things he already knew, spending the time just trying to divert the train of thought that wouldn't leave him alone. Anyway, is it really so bad for someone to know me like that? He thought, as the woman returned to her reading, it's not bad to be vulnerable once in a while, she's not going to hurt me. I know, I know.

Then why does it scare me so much?

His hands clasped as a third presence appeared between them. Michael, with a giant grin on his face, set two medium-sized cups of coffee on the small table they shared in front of the window. The woman's, with milk and sweetened with vanilla, as she always asked for. Bucky's, black, plain and cold, the way he always drank it.

The girl sitting next to him and the barista shared a couple of words in a conversation that seemed to be too funny, because she kept laughing. Why did he find her laughter annoying? Was it because it was too loud, or because it sounded too high-pitched unlike her normal laughter? When she laughed with Bucky, her tone was softer, gravelly, delicate and jovial. He couldn't describe the sensation that burned in his chest every time her eyes narrowed at her smile, or every time she brought her right hand to her chest, over her heart, as if she couldn't bear to laugh anymore, but at the same time holding back the pain in her cheeks so she wouldn't stop.

Michael didn't get that. No, he wasn't getting what Bucky was.

“Bucky?”

Her chuckling voice disconnected him from the bizarre conjectures in his mind, and he turned his eyes to her. She was looking at him with a rueful smile and her cheeks were too flushed.

“Are you all right?”

The aforementioned reveled in the sight that was plastered in front of him, with her sparkling eyes and the way her lips curved, before replying, “Yeah, all good.”

When he noticed Michael was still there, his shoulders tensed and quickly his gaze refocused on the sea of words displayed on the screen in front of him.

“You're too stiff,” he heard the woman's voice again a few seconds later, “Are you sure you don't want to do something to distract yourself? There are a lot of things coming to mind right now.”

Bucky turned to look at her with a frown.

“What things?”

“Um, last week you told me you've never played twenty questions before.”

The man arched an eyebrow, intrigued by how his mind played him, but quickly replied, “Do I look like the kind of person who plays the twenty questions?”

“Not really, but that day you told me you were willing to try it if I played it with you.”

Bucky was silent for a few seconds.

“I don't remember saying that.”

“Sometimes you don't remember a lot of things for convenience, Barnes,” she teased innocently, but Bucky knew what that meant: you're always evading me when I'm trying to help you.

And well, it was true.

“I imagine you don't remember Sam's invitation to you three days ago either.”

“What invitation?” he played distracted, as he pretended to vehemently read what he'd Googled.

“He asked you to join him to watch a game at the bar two blocks from your flat.”

Bucky hummed as he pretended to think about what he'd just heard, even though he remembered it perfectly. And he knew that earlier in the day he'd left it on hold, which was a clear and express no, but he hadn't said that to the woman who was now staring at him.

“I don't like football.”

The woman let out a snort of exasperation.

“This is why you have no friends, Bucky.”

“I could say the same about you.”

Bucky knew it was a joke. She'd said things like that to him before and it had never bothered him; he knew she didn't mean it in a derogatory way or to make fun of him. She would never do that. But subconsciously, he couldn't stop his mouth from blurting out the words he didn't want to say; words he would never have thought to say to her.

“I know you've had a bad day, Buck,” she spoke again after a few seconds, “But I just want to distract you.”

“I don't need your help, I can manage on my own.”

“Okay, let's just... change the subject, shall we?”

Bucky pursed his lips, but didn't dare connect their gazes.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay," she mused, and didn't speak again until a couple of seconds later, “How was your date?”

He gave a small smile before saying, “I'm sure you waited for a reasonable amount of time so you could satiate your curiosity.”

The woman let out a laugh, the kind that had the ability to calm Bucky's countenance for a few moments, before replying, “It's just that ever since I met you I didn't think I'd ever see you going on a real date.”

“And you probably won't again.”

“That's how bad it went?”

Bucky twisted his mouth, only remembering the image in the background of his neighbour's flat.

“It could have been worse.”

“Maybe we're just not cut out for dating.”

After a long moment, Bucky turned his head to watch her pursed lips. Her expression seemed downcast, but she pulled herself together quickly when she felt his gaze on her.

“What we've done or who we've been in the past, doesn't define what we can do or be now,” he reminded her of the words she always said to him when he felt he didn't deserve something good, and watched her nod at his words with a small smile, “Don't torment yourself thinking about it, neither of us had a choice.”

“I could tell you the same thing.”

Bucky smiled, sincerely, and for the first time since he had awoken that morning.

“I apply the philosophy you preach perfectly, I'm a great disciple.”

She elongated a sarcastic laugh that widened Bucky's grin. What was it about her that drew you in and bewitched you like that?

“In a trauma contest, you'd take first place, Barnes.”

“We'd be tied, you mean.”

The woman smiled at him, and between their looks, they both knew they were only hiding the truth behind the humour. Bucky didn't often do it, but since he'd met her, and considering that was something she often did -using humour to cover up the truth she'd rather not accept, or simply to hide the pain-, he'd gotten such a habit of doing it every so often that even his therapist was a little put out the first time he joked about one of his traumas in front of her. It was a very strange scenario that was never repeated.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier,” Bucky took the floor again, a little more relaxed than when he'd arrived soaking wet in the cafeteria, “It's just... I killed my neighbour's son.”

“No,” she replied quickly and firmly, as she did every time a similar topic came up in their conversations, “It was the Winter Soldier. It was a person they created to control and disenfranchise, that wasn't you. It wasn't the Bucky I know. I'm sorry to hear that, but... it wasn't your fault, I know that whatever they did for your mind was always rejected by your body, even if you couldn't control it.”

The man half-opened his lips, wanting to say something, wanting to give voice to the jumble of thoughts concurring in his mind, but nothing managed to come out other than incoherent babbling.

“I... I don't know how to tell him.”

“You really want to?”

Bucky nodded, looking into the woman's shining, understanding eyes as she brought one of her hands up to cradle the side of his face.

“Then you'll find a way. Don't push yourself.”

He rested his right hand on the hand the woman held on his cheek, and leaned his head slightly into her touch. Although the stress and tension did not disappear completely, it did give way to a relaxing and lively sense of calm and stillness. Bucky didn't know if she had done it on purpose or not, but her words, though few, brought back a harmonic undertone he hadn't allowed himself to return to in a long time.

Then you'll find a way.

Don't push yourself.

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

It is I, here to Officially Request™ absolutely chaos All Named Characters Molina Family Board Game Night because honestly? The chaos needs to be freed.

THERE'S SO MUCH CHAOS I'M NOT SORRY.

Have the official sequel to this fic because when @screamin-amuseum requested the first part as "the whole gang + boardgame" I took that to mean All Named Characters playing board games and so here's that continuation. It's so unnecessarily long. It's so unnecessarily angsty??? TW for mentions of Trevor with an eating disorder, nothing graphic though.

I don't know what else to say. This is really chaotic. I can't write scenes with more than two people in them and yet this fic has 13. Hope you all enjoy.

Read on ao3 here:

--

Unfortunately, the Molinas’ extensive board game collection does not actually include Pretty Pretty Princess (it was just a tad bit before Julie’s time).

But on the bright side, she knows someone they can borrow it from. Even if Luke’s not happy about it.

“Why’d you have to invite him?” he complains the second Julie gets off the phone with Nick.

“Because—” Julie barely spares Luke a glance as she passes him on the way to the living room. “We’re borrowing his little sister’s board game.”

“So? That doesn’t mean he has to play it with us!”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Luke, are you seriously still jealous of him?”

Luke lets out an indignant squawk. “I am not jealous . I just don’t like him!” He poofs out and back in again to cut Julie off in the doorway, and she stops out of instinct, never quite sure these days if she’ll end up walking through the boys or into them. “Julie, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re talking about a kid who was literally possessed by Caleb five minutes ago. And you want us to hang out with him? You want to bring him into your house? Where you live? To play Pretty Pretty Princess? ”

Julie gives him the most exasperated look she can muster, trying to ignore the smile threatening to tug at her lips. “Luke. First of all, Nick’s already been to my house, so that argument is invalid. Second, he’s not possessed by Caleb anymore, and the fact that he used to be is only more reason for us to offer him some extra friendship, I’m sure he needs it. And third, I already invited him, he’s on his way, and not even your pouting and puppy dog eyes can change that, so don’t even bother trying.”

Of course, Luke immediately breaks out the pout and the puppy dog eyes, but Julie doesn’t let herself so much as look at him. She pushes past him and continues through to the kitchen, shaking her head in amusement as Luke’s annoyed grumbling fades out behind her.

Her dad’s at the kitchen counter, just hanging up his own phone. He turns when Julie enters and offers her a small smile. “Takeout’s on its way. And your tía’s coming, with her own set of dice, so be prepared for those to be loaded.”

Julie giggles. “Well, I called Flynn and they’re gonna bring some sodas and snacks, and Nick’s bringing Pretty Pretty Princess since the boys were so excited to play it. It’s still cool that he comes, too, right?”

“Of course, mija.” Her dad looks at her for a second, and then away, busies himself with wiping down the perfectly-clean counter. “Did you, uh… Did you maybe want to invite Carrie to join us?”

Julie sighs. “Dad, you know me and Carrie aren’t friends anymore.”

“No, yeah, I know.” He scrubs harder at an invisible speck of dirt. “I just thought it might be a nice gesture.”

Despite everything, Julie finds herself considering it. Sure, she and Carrie are still decidedly not friends , but… they’re not quite enemies anymore, either. It’s hard to be enemies with someone who helped you save your shared ex-love interest from an evil jazz-singing magician ghost. Carrie knows about the guys now and didn’t expose Julie and the Phantoms as a fraud, and she hasn’t been as actively mean to Julie and Flynn at school the past few months.

Maybe someday, the three of them will be able to reconcile, officially. Julie might even want to. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to have Carrie in her house so soon, doesn’t mean she wants to include Carrie in their first family game night without her mom.

“Maybe another time,” she says, offering her dad a soft smile so he knows she means it.

He smiles back, and there’s more relief and happiness in his eyes than Julie would’ve expected under the circumstances, leaving Julie to wonder why her dad would care about her relationship with Carrie Wilson so much.

An hour later, everything’s all set up, and all the guests—ghost and human alike—have arrived. They’re all spread out across the various couches and floor space in Julie’s living room, all ten of them—Julie, her dad, Carlos, Tía Victoria, Luke, Alex, Reggie, Willie, Flynn, and Nick. The four ghosts are all sharing one couch, the four Molinas another, while Flynn and Nick lounge on the floor across the room because the ghosts still make Nick a little uncomfortable (though Julie’s unsure if that’s because of his stint with Caleb or because Luke won’t stop glaring at him).

Knowing Game Night, the seating arrangements won’t stay as they are for long, as the various games require space or privacy or the occasional team-up. Julie’s certain by the end of the night, her friends and family will all be mingling and getting along.

Since there are so many of them, they can’t follow the usual Game Night rules—everyone picks one game and they play through them all. If they tried, they’d be here all night, and half of them have to go to school tomorrow. So instead, the plan is this: Everyone’s name will go in a hat. Whoever wins each game picks a name out of the hat, and that person gets to pick the next game. They’ll play a total of five, or until midnight, whichever comes first.

The only caveat to this strategy is that they’re playing Pretty Pretty Princess first, and since that was technically Alex’s choice, his name’s not going in the hat (a fact Alex seems perfectly fine with).

Game Number One isn’t nearly as much of a disaster as Julie kind of expected it to be. It’s only a four player game, so they play in teams of two and three: Luke, Reggie, and Julie playing for the purple jewelry; Alex, Willie, and Flynn playing for the pink; Nick and Carlos for green; and Dad and Tía for blue. The only fight that breaks out is when Luke takes the black ring on purpose and then refuses to put it back the next turn; otherwise, the teams work together surprisingly well.

Somehow, despite Reggie’s earlier insistence that Alex is a PPP master, the adults win, and then they insist on splitting their winning jewelry between them even though it’s all sized to fit five-year-olds.

Just as Dad and Tía are celebrating their victory, and Julie and Carlos are having a telepathic brother-sister conversation about how their aunt must have rigged it, the doorbell rings.

“Ooh, I bet that’s the pizza,” Dad says, hauling himself to his feet. He keeps one hand on the tiny plastic crown on his head so it doesn’t fall off.

He looks ridiculous, between the crown, the singular clip-on earring, and the ring just barely stuck on the end of his pinky finger, but Julie manages to hold back her laughter as she stands and says, “I’ll help carry.”

Her dad beats her to the door, only because Reggie holds her back and tries to convince her not to let Luke have any pizza (to which Luke gives another indignant squawk and immediately starts bickering), so by the time Julie catches up with him, Dad’s already got the front door thrown open, and whatever’s on the porch to greet him has left him staring, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and pale.

Like he’s seen a ghost or something.

“Dad?” Julie starts to say, but the word dies in her throat as she steps into view of the open door and sees none other than Carrie Wilson standing on her front porch.

Carrie looks nervous, and just as pale, as she stares back at Julie’s father, a clutch purse held in her white-knuckled hands.

Carrie says something, quietly enough that Julie thinks she might have imagined it, that sounds suspiciously like, “Hi, Papi,” and then her gaze flits behind him to Julie and her eyes widen. She clears her throat, straightens her shoulders, says louder, “Mr. Molina. Julie.”

“Hi, Carrie,” Dad says after a weirdly long pause, startling like he’s been struck. “What are—I didn’t—” He breaks off and glances at Julie over his shoulder, his expression screaming, I thought you weren’t going to invite her!

I didn’t! Julie shoots back, then trains a painfully plastic smile on her definitely-not-a-friend-but-not-quite-an-enemy. “Carrie, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry to interrupt, I—didn’t realize you had company…” She glances toward the driveway next to the house, where Nick parked his car. “I can leave.”

“No, don’t—It’s okay,” Dad assures her, a little too quickly for Julie’s liking. “What’s—did you need something?”

Carrie shifts her weight awkwardly from foot to foot, looking back and forth between Julie and her dad like she wants to ask Julie to give them some privacy. Julie just plants her feet and crosses her arms over her chest. Like hell is she gonna leave Carrie alone with her dad when he’s already acting weird and she still has yet to tell them what she’s doing there.

Julie doesn’t even remember the last time Carrie Wilson stepped foot on the Molinas’ property. It’s all too weird, like Julie’s stepped out of Family Game Night and into some strange, confusing alternate universe.

“Um… Okay, so, Dad and I were at this dumb charity event at Schaefer’s, and on the way back, our car broke down.” Carrie waves a vague hand toward the street. “Gerald—our driver—called someone, but Dad doesn’t trust mechanics, and I think it’s supposed to storm later, so…” She trails off, blushes, and adds, “We were only a block or so away so I thought…”

Julie’s not sure she’s following. Her dad must catch up quicker because he says, “Oh! Oh, well—well, you’re welcome to wait out the storm here, we’ve got food coming, we’re having a little game night. Why don’t you join us?”

He turns to look at Julie, almost as an afterthought, his gaze somehow pleading and apologetic at the same time.

Whatever frustration Julie might feel at his eagerness to let Carrie interfere with their lives despite knowing how Julie feels about her is quickly snuffed out by the look on her dad’s face, and the equally anxious look on Carrie’s.

Julie doesn’t like this. She doesn’t think putting her, Flynn, Nick, and Carrie in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She really doesn’t think putting Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Trevor Wilson in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She can think of very few scenarios in which this whole night doesn’t turn into a complete and total disaster.

But reconciliation has to start somewhere, and she does, deep down, want to be Carrie’s friend again someday, wants even more to help her boys get their bandmate back.

She takes a slow, deep breath, prays she won’t regret this, and says, “Of course, Carrie. Come join us for Game Night.”

Carrie visibly relaxes, something like a real, genuine smile fluttering around her lips. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll, um—I’ll go get Dad. He wanted to wait in the car, in case you guys… turned us away…”

Awkward silence falls, and Julie can’t understand why her dad looks so sad all of a sudden, but before she can think of how to ask, Carrie spins on her high heels and starts back down the porch steps.

The second the door closes behind her, Dad says, “I’m sorry, did I overstep?”

Julie sighs. Her dad’s always been particularly good with boundaries. And she thinks part of him might miss the days when Carrie was over more often than not, playing dolls and singing with Julie and Flynn. So Julie can’t be mad. “No, it’s okay. But you get to tell the guys the pizza’s not here yet, and the guy who stole all their songs is.”

His eyes widen in horror, only adding to the absurdity of his bejeweled look, and Julie stifles another laugh as she heads back to the living room.

All things considered, it’s not nearly as much of a trainwreck as Julie thought it might be. Flynn loudly declares that she will not be on a team with Carrie under any circumstances, and the guys don’t take the Trevor news well , exactly, but a sharp look from Julie and a badly whispered promise from Willie to do some serious ghost pranking later keep them from actively pitching a fit about it.

When the Wilsons and their driver Gerald arrive, the tension in the room grows so instantly thick and awkward that Julie’s worried someone might actually explode. Carrie breaks it by stalking confidently into the room and plopping herself on the floor between Nick and Carlos like she belongs there. Gerald soon follows, claiming a chair next to Tía Victoria, and smiles politely at them all.

Only Trevor remains hovering in the doorway, pale and shaky, taking deep meditative breaths as his eyes rove across each person one at a time, lingering a little too long on Julie’s aunt, skipping over Luke entirely. Finally, he swallows, winces like it hurts, and says to Julie’s dad, “I didn’t realize you still did these.”

Julie frowns, unsure what that’s supposed to mean exactly, but her dad offers up no explanation, just waves Trevor over to sit on the couch with him. Luke lays a gentle hand on Julie’s knee, leans in close to whisper, “Hey. You okay?”

She gives him a grateful smile, nods. “Fine. How about you?”

Luke shrugs, glances over at Trevor, who’s still very purposefully not looking in their direction, and winks at Julie. “Let’s just cream this guy, shall we?”

And so, Game Night continues.

The three new guests’ names get added to the hat, and Victoria shuffles them around before pulling a slip of paper out.

“Carrie,” she reads. “You get to pick the next game.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Carrie tries. “I just got here, someone else can pick.”

“Come on, Care,” Nick says, nudging her encouragingly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Your name came out of the hat,” Julie agrees, attempting a smile. It’s the closest she can get to a peace offering. “Pick a game.”

Carrie scans her face a moment, like she’s searching for any hint that Julie’s being mean or ingenuine. She must not find any, because she says, “Okay,” and gets to her feet, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. She peers into the game cabinet for a total of about five seconds before she says, “Oh my god, you still have Monopoly with the credit card readers? We are definitely playing that.”

“Dibs on banker!” Carlos shouts and jumps to his feet to dig the box out of the cabinet.

Julie grins at her little brother’s enthusiasm, and when she catches Carrie’s eye, her smile doesn’t fade.

Maybe they can do this. It’s as good a first step toward reconciliation as any, she supposes.

The pizza arrives while Carrie and Carlos are setting up the Monopoly board, so Julie and her dad bring it in and set up the stack of boxes on the kitchen island for easy access. The ghosts immediately descend on the food like a pack of rabid animals, Luke grabbing four or five slices at once and starting to stuff them in his mouth before Julie shouts, “Plates, boys! Plates!” and he deflates, grinning bashfully at her.

Once everyone who wants pizza has gotten some (Gerald takes a slice, Trevor and Carrie don’t—Julie remembers vaguely that the Wilsons were never big fans of take-out in general), they work out new teams, which leads to less bloodshed than Julie expected but takes way longer than it has any right to. Finally, they figure out a breakdown that everyone’s more or less happy with, despite now having an uneven number of players: Trevor, Gerald, Dad, and Tía; Carlos, Luke, and Reggie; Alex, Willie, and Flynn; and Carrie, Nick, and Julie.

It’s a chaotic game for sure, but no one outright attacks each other, so Julie counts it as a success. And her team wins, so.

The rest of the night goes like that, one game after another. Julie picks Willie’s name, Willie picks Mario Kart, Carlos wins. Carlos picks Gerald’s name, Gerald picks poker (“Oh my god, my driver’s a gambler,” Trevor sighs into his hands), and somehow Flynn smokes them all. For the last game, Flynn picks Luke’s name, Luke picks Candy Land because he’s actually eight years old, and Flynn and Carrie manage to eke out a victory despite being on the same team and bickering the entire game.

Luke and Trevor, also on the same team, don’t say a single word to each other, but Julie doesn’t miss how a smile tugs at Luke’s lips when Trevor makes a joke about Lord Licorice looking like their high school English teacher.

Gerald gets a call just as they’re finishing up and informs them that the broken down limo’s been towed away and one of his colleagues is there with a fresh car to take the Wilsons home.

“Perfect timing,” Dad says, clapping his hands together. “I’ll walk you out.”

Once they’re gone, Nick and Flynn soon follow. Julie thanks Nick profusely for letting them borrow his sister’s game and convinces him to take some of the leftover pizza home to his family. Tía kisses them all goodnight (including the ghosts, which leaves Reggie grinning and the rest of them bright red), and then she’s out the door too, and Carlos heads up to bed, and Willie poofs out, telling Alex they’ll catch him later, leaving just Julie alone with her Phantoms.

“That was actually really fun,” she says, leaning back into the couch.

“Next time, I think we should choose teams at the beginning and stick with them all night,” Luke suggests, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “More fun that way.”

Alex plops onto the couch on Luke’s other side. “But if we play Pretty Pretty Princess again, I’m not playing on your team, bro.”

“Yeah, man,” Reggie agrees, snuggling up under Julie’s arm. “We coulda won that game if you’d just put the black ring away. ”

“It made me look awesome!” Luke insists.

“And the purple one didn’t?”

Alex lets out a dramatic sigh as Luke and Reggie break into an argument over Julie’s head. She just rolls her eyes and tries not to giggle too audibly, though it’s hard when her boys are so lovingly silly.

When she looks up, her dad’s lingering in the doorway, watching the four of them and playing a little nervously with his hands.

Julie frowns, catches his gaze, and mouths, You okay?

He nods, smiles, but looks from her to the three ghost boys cuddled up next to her and back again. Julie instantly catches his meaning.

“Hey, guys,” she says, loud enough to be heard over Luke and Reggie’s bickering. They shut up right away. “I’m gonna help my dad clean up. Can you go wait in the studio for me, and we can rehearse a bit before I go to bed?”

“Oh, yeah,” the boys say, and “Yeah, sure, Julie,” and they all hug her and wave goodnight to her dad before disappearing with a gentle displacement of air.

Julie gets to her feet as her dad joins her in the living room. He sets his phone on top of the game cabinet and plays a Celia Cruz album her mom liked.

They work in companionable silence for a while, other than the music, counting all the cards and tokens and jewelry pieces to make sure everything’s accounted for and gets back into its proper box.

As Julie’s wrapping up the Mario Kart controllers, her dad says casually, “You have fun tonight?”

“Yeah,” she says, and finds she means it. “Yeah, you know, it wasn’t quite the same as playing with Mom, but I still had a really good time. Thanks for letting everyone come over.”

“Thank you for being such a good sport about Carrie. I know she wasn’t exactly part of your plan for how the night would go.”

“No,” Julie agrees, shutting the game cabinet. “But I kinda liked having her here. Although—can I ask you something?”

Dad grabs his phone to pause the music. “Of course, mija. What is it?”

Something’s been nagging at her all evening, but now that Julie actually has the opportunity to ask about it, she’s not quite sure how to put her question into words.

Finally, she manages, “When Mr. Wilson first got here, he said something like… like he didn’t know we still had game nights. But I don’t remember him ever playing with us when Mom was alive.”

Her dad doesn’t answer for a really long time. Julie knows him well enough to know she needs not be concerned—her dad, much more than her mom, has always needed to really take his time and think before he says anything, especially anything important. Finally, he sighs and says, “Honestly, mija… I’m not quite sure what to say. It’s not really my story to tell.” He sits on one of the couches and pats the cushion next to him. Julie joins him, hugging a throw pillow as she waits patiently for him to continue.

“Do you remember, when you were really little, Trevor and Carrie used to live with us?”

Julie’s mouth drops open. “What? No. When?”

“Only until you were about six,” Dad explains. “But for a while, we had a house together, the five and then six of us, once Carlos was born. Your mom and I, and Trevor, we all kind of raised you kids together.” He elbows her teasingly. “You used to call Trevor Daddy.”

“I definitely don’t remember that,” Julie says, eyes wide in horror.

His smile fades, face turning serious. “I think Carrie does,” he says softly, and Julie remembers when Carrie first got here tonight, how she called Julie’s dad Papi , so quietly Julie thought she’d imagined it.

“Anyway,” he continues, “before all that, before Trevor was even… Trevor … he lived with your mom and me, and he was going through a really rough time, had a lot of trouble with food because, well…”

“Because food killed his best friends…” Julie realizes.

“We used to play board games with him, after dinner, when things were hard. It kept him distracted, made it easier to keep things down. That was the real start of Molina Family Game Night.”

“Huh,” Julie breathes. “Well then, next time? I want to invite him and Carrie for real.”

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique

[erin-bo-berin]

Cupid

MASTERLIST

This was requested by @sundippedprincess​ I’m pretty sure! Oh man, don’t we all love some daddy Spencer? I couldn’t resist writing this cute little fluff piece. Hope it’s a good start to all of you guys’ Mondays. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 4,773

For as long as you could remember, you wanted to be a teacher.

Apparently, after coming home from your first day in kindergarten, you had announced to your parents that you wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. Twenty years later, you were living your dream.

Your kindergarten kids were your whole life. You always loved seeing them, watching them grow and learn. You typically dreaded summer vacation because you missed your kids and teaching so much, despite the few months of break.

This was only your second year of teaching, but you were enjoying it just as much as your first. It was tough saying goodbye to the first group of students, but it made it worth it when you saw them in the school halls and some still ran up to greet you.

School had just let out for another day and you already missed the bright young minds of your students. You were cleaning up your classroom before working on some grading when you heard a small voice coming from your doorway.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

You turned and saw a little girl with light brown curls and a turquoise blue backpack standing in your doorway, looking hesitant. She was one of your best behaved students, Ayla Reid.

“Ayla! Did you forget something?”

She shook her head, her ponytail bouncing with the movement.

“My daddy is late and they told me at the office to come stay with you instead of waiting outside by myself. Is that okay?”

She was the sweetest little girl. She was a bright little girl as well, having no trouble with soaking up new knowledge like her brain was a tiny sponge. She was always kind and helpful when it came to other classmates, but she never hesitated to speak her mind. All in all, she was an outgoing, bubbly little girl with a heart of gold.

“Of course, sweetie. Come on in.”

You took the chair to her desk off the top of it, setting it back on the floor so she could sit in her usual place.

You peeked over your shoulder as you headed to your arts and crafts station to see her settling in to her normal desk. You grabbed some paper and crayons and walked back to her with them in hand.

“Would you like to color while you wait?”

She nodded, smiling big.

“I love to color!”

You laughed, knowing that all too well. It was one of her favorite activities when doing schoolwork. 

“Is your daddy always late when picking you up?” you asked, sitting back down behind your desk.

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s just a few minutes, but he’s never been this late,” she answered.

She’d already opened the box of crayons and was starting to draw before you’d even asked your question.

You glanced at the clock in your room to see it was nearing 3:15. School let out at 2:30–Ayla’s father was nearly an hour late.

“This doesn’t happen all the time,” she said, “‘Cause sometimes my mommy picks me up.”

You understood that. Plenty of your students had parents who worked full time and was occasionally late to pick them up.

She said nothing else as she was busy with her picture, so you started sorting through the turned in work for the week so far. You would have to log in grades and update the grades later on so it was just easier to get through this first step now.

“My daddy works a lot,” Ayla said out of the blue.

You looked up, smiling, seeing her still hard at work with her crayons.

“What does he do?” you asked, interested.

“He’s a pwofiler. I’m not quite sure what that means but he works in the FBI. That’s like the police but more important.”

You chuckled. She wasn’t one to miss much. When you’d said she was incredibly smart, you hadn’t been exaggerating.

“That sounds like a very interesting job. I’m sure you’re incredibly proud of him, Ayla,” you said.

“Mhm,” she nodded big, looking up from her picture, “He’s very smart too. He’s got a robotic memory!”

You raised a brow, not quite sure what she meant, but laughed anyway.

“Is that so? That’s impressive.”

“He a docta. But not like the ones you go to when you’re sick.”

She went back to the picture and you watched her for a moment, amused. There was so much energy and spunk in this little girl. You wouldn’t doubt for one minute that her parents had their hands full with her.

“Can I show you my picture?” she asked.

“Of course, let me see.”

You stood up, walking over to her desk, crouching to her level.

On it, there were several stick figures.

“Oh that’s beautiful,” you grinned, “Are these your friends?”

“No, these my aunties and uncles at the BAU. That’s where my daddy works.”

“I see,” you said, listening intently.

“This my daddy,” she pointed to the tallest of the group.

“This is auntie Emily, auntie JJ, auntie Penelope and auntie Tara.”

She smiled proudly as pointed at the obvious female stick figures.

“And what about these three?” you asked, motioning to a group of men.

“That is uncle Luke, uncle Dave and uncle Matt. The two on that side are uncle Hotch and uncle Derek. They don’t work with my daddy anymore but they still my uncles.”

“Wow, you’ve got a lot of extended family, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she beamed.

“Ayla, honey, I’m so sorry.”

You stood up from where you were crouching next to Ayla to see a quite tall man walking into your classroom, a tan, leather satchel slung over his body.

“Daddy!” Ayla squealed, jumping out of her seat, running towards him.

She collided into his legs, hugging him and he picked her up with a big smile on his face, kissing her cheek.

You took the moment to get a better look at him, now that he was closer.

He was undeniably attractive, but didn’t seem to be the type that flaunted his looks either. His light brown hair was as curly as his daughter’s and looked to be in a bit of disarray, part of it falling over his forehead while other curls fell in numerous directions.

He was outfitted in a work suit, a tie and sweater underneath his suit jacket. He pulled it off very well.

His eyes gleamed as he looked at his daughter and she kissed his stubbled cheek. You didn’t fail to notice his sharp jawline or his easy, bright smile either.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he apologized, whether to Ayla or you, you weren’t entirely sure.

“It’s okay daddy. I like Miss Y/L/N. She’s pretty like a princess.”

You sucked in a breath in surprise, touched by her words. You couldn’t help when your eyes immediately teared up. It was such a sweet and sincere thing for Ayla to say and knowing kids were brutally honest, you knew she meant every word of it.

You cleared your throat, composing yourself when you noticed Ayla’s father watching you, eyes squinting in concentration.

He probably thinks you’re a blubbering fool, you thought.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Reid,” you extended your hand.

“It’s docta Reid,” Ayla corrected you, emphatically.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry. Dr. Reid.”

He chuckled, setting Ayla back down and telling her to get her things together.

“It’s no big deal,” he said, shaking your hand.

You tried not to focus on the fact his hand was so large in yours as you quickly pulled back, silencing any further thoughts.

“I told Miss Y/L/N how you’re a pwofiler and have a robotic memory!” Ayla exclaimed, as she cleaned up her desk, putting her picture in her backpack.

“Uh, it’s actually eidetic,” he said, flushing a bit.

“I couldn’t remember what it was called so I just went with robotic,” Ayla shrugged.

You both chuckled at her response, before turning back to each other.

“I was wondering how smart you must be to have a robotic memory,” you smiled.

“Well she was kinda close,” he grinned, running a hand through his hair, “Eidetic is just another term for photographic memory.”

“Oh wow,” you said, surprised, “That’s impressive. No wonder you have such a brilliant daughter.”

He smiled appreciatively and said his thanks before speaking again.

“I don’t remember seeing you at the Kindergarten registration a few months ago.”

“Oh, unfortunately I wasn’t able to attend as I was sick. My teacher’s assistant Mrs. Lamb stepped in for me. Apparently she was a big hit though because she got all the kids to believe she was from Old MacDonald's Farm!”

You cringed inwardly at your spiel. You were used to talking to five year olds and other teachers, definitely not attractive dads, let alone men in general.

You chided yourself again. He was probably married anyway and you had little business drooling over a student’s father.

His smile was on full display though as he laughed at your statement.

“Come on Ayla, we need to get going. I have to head back to work for a little while but you can hang out with auntie Penelope okay?”

“Okay!” she grinned, putting on her backpack and taking his hand.

They were just leaving when something made you stop them.

“Um, Dr. Reid?”

He paused, turning back to you.

“Yes?”

“If you ever find yourself running late to pick Ayla up, I’d be happy to let her stay in my classroom until you get here.”

You’re not sure why you offered. Well for one, you really did like Ayla, she was such a sweet girl. But you tried to convince yourself that it was just a nice gesture to hopefully make things a bit easier on him. You knew sometimes your parents struggled with finding someone to pick up their child from school on time.

It wasn’t because you hoped to see him again. Definitely not.

“Oh you don’t have to. I can try to get away earlier when possible,” he protested.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured, “I’d love the company. Besides, she’s such a joy to have.”

He seemed to take a moment to think it over before nodding.

“I just may take you up on that.”

•

“Daddy, what does pwofiling mean?”

Spencer had just lifted Ayla into the car and placed her into her booster seat, where she was currently buckling the seatbelt to it.

“Well,” he paused, intrigued at what could have brought on her sudden question, “It’s just studying a person’s behavior. For example, I can recognize how you behave guiltily when you eat the last cookie in the cookie jar.”

Ayla grinned big, not in the least bit ashamed.

“But you do that with bad guys right?”

“That’s correct, baby,” he smiled, kissing her forehead.

He closed the back door and walked around to the driver’s side door, sliding in. He had just gotten his own seatbelt clicked into place when she spoke again.

“Daddy, I pwofiled you.”

“Did you now?” he chuckled, amused at his little girl’s comment.

“Yes,” she nodded, “You like Miss Y/L/N.”

“Well of course I do, she’s your teacher and she’s very nice.”

“No, I mean you like like her,” she emphasized.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Because you’re smiling all goofy,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “You only smile like that when you talk about things you know about.”

He felt himself flush a little bit. It was true, he hadn’t stopped smiling since they’d left Ayla’s classroom. There was something refreshing about her teacher and he would have to be blind to not admit she was indeed as Ayla had said, very pretty.

“Are you going to ask her to be your girlfriend?” Ayla asked as he drove out of the school parking lot.

He chuckled at her brazenness.

“Honey, I don’t even know her. Besides, I’m too busy to date.”

“I’m busy too but I have a boyfriend.”

“You do?” Spencer asked, trying his best to hide his surprise.

“Of course, daddy,” she rolled her eyes, exasperated, like she was a teenager already, “I’m busy and don’t always get to see Michael but he my boyfriend.”

Spencer smiled to himself. Michael LaMontagne was his best friend JJ’s and her husband Will’s youngest son. He was a little over two years older than Ayla, but she always proclaimed that Michael was her boyfriend. The two got along extremely well and it was incredibly adorable.

He decided not to comment any further on it though because he knew she wouldn’t give up on it easily.

“Baby, you know what days daddy picks you up, right?”

“Yup. Mondays and Fridays.”

“Good. Since I never know when I might be running late, will you ask Miss Y/L/N if you could stay with her until I get there?

“Okay daddy.”

She turned to the window, watching the passing landscape, her previous conversation apparently finished.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Ayla’s teacher again.

•

Ayla rushed out of the elevator when the doors opened on the floor the BAU was located on.

“There’s my favorite girl!”

Penelope has been waiting for them, excited to spend time with her goddaughter. As she was her only goddaughter, Ayla definitely got a bit spoiled.

“Auntie Penelope!” Ayla squealed, running into Garcia’s arms.

“How was your day at school, pumpkin?” she asked.

“Good,” Ayla beamed.

“Must’ve been, your daddy is 15 minutes late getting back,” Garcia said, eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Uh, traffic,” Spencer said.

“No,” Ayla shook her head, looking up at Spencer, “You were busy smiling at Miss Y/L/N.”

“Miss Y/L/N?” Garcia questioned, her interest piqued.

“She’s my teacher,” Ayla explained, “And she’s really pretty, auntie Penelope. Like a princess!”

“Like a princess, huh?”

Garcia was now eyeing Spencer hardcore with a knowing grin. Spencer knew she would be all over this with a million questions before long.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go hang out with auntie Penelope now while daddy finishes up his work?”

“Alright. Come on auntie Penelope! I wanna show you the picture I drew!”

Ayla grabbed her hand, practically dragging Garcia towards her lair.

Garcia looked over her shoulder pointing a finger at him.

“Don’t think you’ve escaped my questions! We’re talking about this later!”

Spencer knew good and well they would be.

“So, a pretty kindergarten teacher, huh?”

Spencer startled, seeing Luke standing in the doorway of the BAU, his back against the glass door, holding it open. In his hand was a plastic cup of coffee that he was drinking. He’d obviously been here longer than Spencer had realized and had heard everything. 

“Don’t you start too,” he grumbled.

“Hey, I’m just curious!” Luke protested, following Spencer in as he walked into the unit, “How pretty is she?”

“Very,” Spencer mumbled to himself.

Getting her out of his head would be the best thing to do, although maybe not the easiest.

•

It was the third time that you were keeping Ayla in your classroom after school until Dr. Reid could pick her up.

You found yourself counting down the hours every Monday and Friday, waiting to see his bright and smiling face. 

You couldn’t believe you were looking forward to a maybe five minute encounter out of your entire day, but here you were.

“Miss Y/L/N?” you heard Ayla call from her desk.

“Yes?” 

You looked up from the learning packets you were stapling together for the new week.

“Is it okay if I feed Freddy?”

Freddy was the class pet, a neon tetra fish. He was a simple fish, one that was easy for new fish owners, from what you’d researched before getting him.

He was small, but feisty. His coloring really took you by surprise when you first got him. With colors of bright red and green, red towards the end of his body and a lime green towards his front with a turquoise blue duochrome look to him, he always looked festive and bright.

He had an automatic fish feeder, but every once in a while you let one of your students throw a small amount in for him as an extra treat.

“Of course,” you smiled, getting up to help her.

You walked over to the fish tank and grabbed the fish food, opening it for her.

“Now, just get a tiny little pinch, okay?”

She nodded and did what she was told, her face serious as she concentrated on what she was doing.

Stepping up on the stool you left in front of the tank—for the small kids purposes—she sprinkled the food into the water. Freddy immediately devoured it.

“I think he liked it,” she smiled, watching him through the glass.

“I think he did too,” you agreed.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You turned, seeing Dr. Reid walk in, a smile on his face.

Your stomach fluttered, seeing him again for the first time in days. 

“I fed Freddy, daddy!” Ayla grinned big, running to give him a hug.

“Did you now? That’s a very big girl task! I’m proud of you! High five!”

He was crouched in front of her, hugging her but then he pulled out of her embrace and held up his hand, which she high fived.

“It’s time to get your things kiddo, we’re having your favorite for dinner tonight,” he said.

“Chicken nuggets with sweet potato fries?”

“You guessed it! Now go,” he shooed her towards her desk.

You smiled, watching them. He stood back up, facing you with a small smile.

“I hope she wasn’t any trouble.”

“Not at all. She’s an angel. She’s probably one of my best behaved students,” you said.

“Now that’s surprising,” he chuckled.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Ayla called, coming back over with her backpack on her back, “You should come to dinner tomorrow night.”

“I-” you began, in attempt to politely turn her down, when Dr. Reid spoke before you.

“Bunny, you’re going to be at your mom’s tomorrow night,” he said.

Ayla’s reply was simple and to the point.

“I know.”

You felt your eyes widen and your face heat when you realized her insinuation. Dr. Reid looked just as flustered and thrown as you felt.

“Ayla, honey, you know daddy has to work tomorrow. Remember I told you I had to work late?” Spencer stammered, trying to say the entirety of the few sentences.

At that point, you just wished for a hole to open up in your classroom floor and swallow you. If it wasn’t awkward enough that one of your students had basically just asked you out for her own father, then it was definitely the fact that he was trying to backpedal on the “invite” and most likely because he had no interest in you, not that you could blame him.

“Daddy, you told me it’s wrong to tell a lie,” Ayla gave him a look.

You were sure at this point Dr. Reid had turned scarlet from his face all the way down his neck. You felt bad for him, but still felt the awkwardness of the situation.

“You said that when I was at mommy’s house last week. You said this week you wouldn’t have to work late.”

Somehow, this behavior from Ayla didn’t surprise you in the slightest. When she was set on something, she was determined to accomplish it.

He looked up at you, clearly uncomfortable but you spoke before he could, trying to salvage the situation.

“Don’t worry,” you chuckled, “Kids will be kids. Believe me, I know. I have 28 of them for 8 hours, 5 days a week.”

His smile eased a bit and you felt yourself relax a tiny amount.

“I hope you have a good weekend Ayla and I’ll see you Monday,” you said.

You couldn’t help but notice her pouty expression as Dr. Reid took her hand and left your classroom.

You almost had to breathe a sigh of relief after living through that awkward moment.

You had just sat down behind your desk and resumed stapling papers together when you heard your name being called.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

You glanced up, seeing Dr. Reid in the doorway sans Ayla.

“Yes? Did Ayla forget something?” 

You stood, ready to head towards her desk to check for a missing folder or a favorite toy.

“Actually, no, I did.”

You gave him a confused look before he began to explain.

“I was- uh I was actually wondering if maybe you’d like to get coffee sometime? With me? Or maybe ice cream or something considering it’s still pretty hot? Hot outside I mean.”

Your stomach quite literally did a flip flop at his cute, nervous, rambling. 

Here was a grown man, who worked in the FBI, had a child and could probably rival a Bachelor contestant, yet he managed to adorably stumble over his words as he asked you out.

“Well, I practically live off coffee because of my job,” you said.

“So do I,” he grinned, a small, new found connection between the two of you, discovered.

“But ice cream sounds nice,” you smiled, “Whenever you’re free that is.”

“Tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow sounds fine,” you concluded, “Hold on.”

You turned to grab a sticky note from your desk, jotting something down quickly.

“My number,” you smiled, handing it to him, “Just let me know what time.”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” you confirmed.

“Oh and for future reference, I’m Spencer.”

“Y/N,” you grinned.

With a smile on his own face, he walked back out of your classroom, presumably to an awaiting Ayla.

You had to hold back your laughter when you heard her next statement all the way from the hallway, clear as day.

“I think I know now why uncle Morgan used to say you got no game.”

•

It was roughly 2 pm the next afternoon as you stood outside the ice cream parlor that was near the elementary school. 

You fidgeted in place nervously, wondering if he was going to show.

His actual asking you on a date was so sudden and abrupt, you’d hardly had time to wrap your head around it. 

With one glance down at your outfit, you tried hard not to criticize yourself. You’d changed about six times before finally deciding on a simple, cute, sleeveless sundress in an aqua turquoise color. It would be cool, cute, casual and not trying too hard.

“You look nice and cool.”

You turned to see Spencer approaching you and you smiled, relieved that he actually showed up and it wasn’t just a dream.

“Hot enough for you?” you chuckled.

“Too hot,” he agreed, “Shall we?”

He motioned after him and you walked into the wonderful chilly air of the ice cream parlor. He even held the door open for you; this man was already amazing.

There was only polite small talk while you both ordered; mint chocolate chip in a cone for him, vanilla in a cup with numerous toppings for you.

“Vanilla?” he raised an eyebrow at your choice.

“Only if I’m in the mood for a lot of toppings,” you elaborated.

You’d ordered your ice cream with Oreo pieces, rainbow sprinkles and chopped nuts.

When you both retrieved your orders from the counter, he peeked over at yours.

“There any ice cream under there?” he teased.

“Hush,” you chuckled.

You found a shaded table outside to sit at. Despite the heat, a small breeze occasionally cooled the temperature, making it a bit more bearable.

“So, Y/N.”

“That’s my name,” you smiled.

It was amazing how up until this point, you’d been so nervous for this date, but sitting in front of him, you were much more comfortable.

He took another lick from his cone, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Why teaching?”

You raised a brow, figuring you’d get in a question of your own too.

“Why the FBI?” you inquired.

He chuckled, appreciating your challenge.

“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine,” he said.

“Well—as the story goes, my parents claim—I came home from my first day of Kindergarten claiming I was going to be a teacher, specifically a kindergarten teacher. I don’t remember this at all,” you laughed, “But apparently it was kismet.”

He watched you intently as you talked, eating his ice cream silently as he hung on to your every word. It was surprising at how nice it made you feel to know he was interested in knowing about you.

“I joined the FBI when I was 22.”

“Wow, that’s really young and impressive,” you said, eyes wide.

“Well to preface this, I was somewhat of a childhood prodigy. I graduated high school at 12 and managed to earn three PhDs by 20, plus two BAs.”

You stared at him open mouthed, your spoon halfway to your mouth, the ice cream on it melting and dripping back into the cup.

He looked embarrassed and a bit uncomfortable. Something told you that while he was proud of his achievements, he wasn’t one that really enjoyed bragging about them.

“That explains the title of Doctor and the robotic memory.”

That seemed to break the spell and his face broke into a grin as he laughed easily at his daughter’s antics.

“That child, I swear. She’s something else.”

“She really is,” you agreed.

There was a lull in conversation and you decided to ask him about what you were wondering from the previous afternoon.

“So...you and your wife are separated or divorced I assume?”

“Oh me and Ayla’s mom have never been together actually.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to deal with divorced, separated or even single parents of your students, but to actually know the circumstances like this was unusual for you.

He nodded.

“I wasn’t in a place for a relationship and neither was her mother, so all we ever had was a physical relationship and Ayla was the result of that. We remained friends and co-parent now. She’s got a lovely fiancé now though that’s great with Ayla. But as messed up and impractical as that relationship was, I wouldn’t change it for anything though because it gave me Ayla and I’ve never regretted her for a moment,” Spencer said.

“She clearly adores you,” you smiled, “You’re a great father too.”

“Thank you,” he smiled shyly, “I try my best. But what about you, anyone special?”

He winced the moment the question left his mouth.

“Well if there was, I wouldn’t be here now would I?” 

You could help but tease him, flashing him a joking expression.

“Point taken,” he laughed inwardly, “It didn’t dawn on me how obvious the question was until I said it. I’m sorry, I’m not really good at this dating thing. It’s been a long time since I’ve done it, actually.”

He looked pained, like a teenager on his first date, but you found it extremely endearing.

“Well I think you’re doing just fine,” you reassured him, “Also, no.”

His brow crinkled in confusion.

“No, what?”

“No, there’s no one special in my life. Unless you count 28 five year olds,” you snickered.

Sometime during the conversation, you’d both finished your ice cream. You tossed your trash and returned to the table.

“I’ve got a few hours before I have to pick up Ayla. Would you like to take a walk?” Spencer asked.

“Sure,” you agreed.

The two of you walked side by side, chatting it up about a variety of different things until his tinkering chuckle made you glance up at him, curious to what he found so funny.

“What is it?”

“It just struck me funny,” he said, pausing to look down at you.

You stopped with him, waiting for him to continue.

“Who would’ve thought my five year old daughter could be such an adorable yet successful pint sized Cupid?”

You had to agree as your face broke into your hundredth smile of that afternoon. She had been persistent and it seemed like her persistency had paid off.

He was right though, you’d never in a million years imagined one of your pupils playing matchmaker for you.

But you were glad Ayla had.

How thankful you were to have her in your class.

“She was right, you know,” Spencer said, more serious now.

“About what?”

“You are as pretty as a princess.”

As you two resumed your walking, the smile now permanently plastered on your face, you could’ve sworn you felt his hand brush yours ever so slightly.

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