#yes I spent most of this episode on the floor but

[s4mu-k41d3n]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝕿𝕬𝕶𝕰 𝖄𝕺𝖀𝕽 𝕿𝕽𝕰𝕹𝕮𝕳 𝕮𝕺𝕬𝕿

𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐱 (F)𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: drinking/alcohol, older ages, the reader is titled Lady Name.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐃𝐎?: if you want more writings like these just pop off in the comments and tell me. i’m very very nice and approachable!!. although. i will only be able to do that during long breaks in school. reblog, like, to help me reach my audience because i reject having no likes when i spent so much time on a work (T U T) this is episode one, i will be doing maybeee three to four episodes>3< separated because im lazy and school is coming aagaaaainnn:( these have many simple clues of the next chapter! i got lazy too at the end im so srry!

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈. 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊

A man was fumbling in his room while monotonous evening crooned in fervid rays whilst the sun marred against the window sills, the luminescent lights flickered cowardly against the walls as the remaining delinquent scurried off. He abruptly avails from the door with chiseled locks pruning against his belt. The nagging case nestled between his nimble fingers, his skin was strained with distended flesh along the creases of cold fanning out of his breath as he strode over the wood. The tavern was awfully prepended, vice classes chattered loudly with unbridled laughter as various whispers slipped past while he was seen amongst the sea of men and women bickering to themselves.

The jar shook against the sachet, the rays of light humming on the ritz of expenses. His shoes grimly tapped on the floor, his hands reached out to push out the door with a flashy bang.

It was around 2 o’ clock in the evening, carriages were strolling by the streets while various villagers were pleasantly enjoying their daily coffee, some were permeating their rage to the coffee shop owners in pure disdain. It was a usual day, a common day for most folk. But for Dazai? Oh no, no. It was a cycle of dread and fear despite his very joyful advances. While he was flocking by, his gaze instantly set on a bar nearby the coffee shop, he recently had gave into his partner’s shenanigans of blubbering him into work (in which he had 42 pieces of documents unfinished) and the drunken man thought measly: ‘Perhaps a small sip of alcohol wouldn’t hurt later, afterall. I must reward myself since I have buried myself into bulbous amounts of work yesterday. Kunikida won’t pester me about it. Since it’s the weekend… Yes, yes. That does sound excellent!’ A gleeful smile came across his face, a shine of some relief was sprinkled onto his eyes. He pulls out his rotary dial phone, skimming through his contacts.

He walked over the pavement, his case swaying against the rigid air. It was empty and foul, the scent of beggars pleading by the wall while people simply passed by. Dazai finally reached the antique shop he hoped looking for, he recently found an artifact settles on the news. A poster was stuck into the wall with various other posters but only one he was looking for. A niche book, it was frigid with dull golden interior, a white and empty cover, only lacing the title it shows; in the news a subtext proclaimed: ‘Fellow Folk! A Merry Christmas to you all, we claim the jolliest applauds for our new findings in the temple. We present to you The Book, the everlasting artifact that holds the most powerful and dangerous power. Our artifact is sent to our Lady Name for her to keep. We trust in her that she will be the guard to this accomplishment. At the Lady’s Art, it will be stored in the box of glass. It will be prohibited from being touched.’

Since it was his privilege, he stepped in the antique shop. The bell’s clapper dinged as it echoed throughout the room. The walls were painted with the liveliest shades of blue (no, of course not. It was rather lifeless), the sides were stocked with many antiques. One that caught his eye was a light brown basket that was sheered off into brittle pieces was put together in a globe, if it wasn’t odd enough. It had freckles of dried-out flowers that obviously glued to the basket. It was perhaps an attempt to shed a dash of symbolic meaning into the piece. There were ornaments nestling in a bag, a glass fountain that was tipped over by the wall as spurts of water was dribbling down. Usually the water around here was lacking. It was rather unsafe and dirty, and if it were clean. It was most likely it would just be a drop.

He browsed over the rest of the materials delicately swinging off the ceiling, he glances towards the woman exiting the backside. It was to his expectance, Lady Name. “My Lady,” He bows. “May I have your consent to visit the newest artifact? I have came across by it on the news, I surely didn’t expect for an empty line-” He was suddenly cut off by your tone of voice. “Yes, Mister Dazai.” The man was unexpectedly surprised you knew his name so quickly, perhaps it was the hat he “borrowed” from Chuuya, and the coat that was flowing onto his shoulders that gave it off. Especially his signature pendant casually being shown off into the public was a careless act of him. He huffed exaggeratedly, pestered as he was troubled with his thoughts before he heard you picked the lock. You hastily pocketed the key in your dress, brushing off the dust speckled onto your collar.

You click the door open, greeting him into a parade of artifacts that was hidden discreetly into a hall of golden fabrics simply dragging over the glass. The man quickly followed you inside, pushing him in as you swiftly locked the door. Pulling the curtains down for privacy. “Come here, quickly. Don’t be a quarrel.” You scold him; for Dazai, everything was so hurried! Were you in a struggle? Was someone watching you? It was all a mystery, again. He was snapped out of his thoughts in a manner of fact—astonished when yoi pull the cloth to the ground, his eyes excitedly gleaming at the precious artifact. “Woah, Lady Name. What is this artifact? What is it that is so special about this particular book?” He crosses his arms, leaning forward as his gaze was latched onto the object. You glance towards him, “I’m not sure,” you mutter. “I haven’t been told much information.” You add, he simply nodded in response to your declaration.

For now he’ll keep his suspicions hidden. You weren’t too bad, perhaps close to the field. Either way, you were oddly odd.

[fyodcrs]

Mori Ougai ✰ A Dream of Butterflies

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

A/N: been gone for a hot minute due to personal circumstances but just wanted to drop a lil something (that anyone who watches Doctor Who will be able to tell I started writing a BIT ago given the references here lol) to let you guys know I’m still kickin it <3

warnings: slight hint at an age gap but nothing specific

A Smile

You can imagine the rest of the team would be floored to hear that Spencer has actually exchanged texts with you on a multitude of occasions, outside of professional settings. Numbers were swapped on your first day, naturally, and to begin with you only dared text Spencer if you had absolutely no other choice (if another member of the team could text him, you’d busy yourself to ensure they would, rather than ask you, to save you the embarrassment). But, ever since the first occasion that you texted Spencer a random question out of hours - regarding trivia you definitely hadn’t spent a concerning amount of time deciding on before you sent it to him - you have formed a bond that’s unspoken beyond typed words.

You: so, are you looking forward to the 60th Anniversary? :P

As you hit send, you roll onto your bed, grinning giddily down at your phone. In no more than a few seconds, your screen tells you that your beloved genius is already typing back to you, and within a minute, you receive the paragraph you’d anticipated.

Spencer: Absolutely. The revival of Russel T. Davies’ era, coupled with the return of Murray Gold’s legendary scores, are sure to ignite the spark of nostalgia that the show has been missing for some time. In particular, I am looking forward to seeing how Russel will format this new regeneration of the Doctor, and how many references to his predecessors will decorate the anniversary episodes, especially. I take it you are excited for the anniversary episodes, too, hence the question?

His formality and enthusiasm being conveyed in a way that is so distinctly Spencer, even over text, is enough to have you giggling. You know by now that if you ask something about one of Spencer’s interests, whether it be facts, statistics, generalized trivia, questions, literature, Star Trek or, in this case, Doctor Who, there is no way he can downplay his excitement.

You: knew it! :D and yeah, I'm super excited!!

Mostly, you are thrilled by the thought of discussing the episodes at great length with Spencer for weeks after they’ve aired, but you keep that safely in the subtext of your conversation.

Spencer: Of course you knew. Perhaps we could share a live commentary on the anniversary episodes, if we’re not otherwise engaged with a case?

Only Spencer Reid can make your heart stop with a suggestion like that. Before you can consider any consequences, you are frantically typing back to him.

You: I’d love that! will the commentary be by text or call?

He is typing the moment your message reaches him, his ability to read at what you consider to be the speed of light making for a wonderfully speedy texting partner in every conversation you have.

Spencer: Either is fine, but if we aren’t away on a case, I must admit the idea of experiencing the episodes together in person would be most preferable. It eradicates the risk of our viewings not being synced up or our call connection potentially spoiling the immersion. What do you think?

And just like that, he’s stopped your heart again. In fact, you truly have to consider whether Spencer Reid has figured out a means of reaching through his phone to yours, to snatch your heart right out of your chest. As though he hadn’t already stolen it on the day you met.

You: I think you’re right, like always, Doctor Reid :P

That’s a rational reply, you think. Not too eager. Not the resounding ‘yes’ that every fiber of your being is screaming. In the chess game that is how-to-text-Spencer-Reid, you have marked yourself as the queen. He’d tell you that’s not how chess works, but he’d probably also agree.

Spencer: I’m far from right “always”, but I very much appreciate that you think so.

You’re about to reply, when another text appears on your screen.

Spencer: (:

Doctor Spencer Reid has double-texted you. And, not only that, he’s sent you a smiley face. This is unprecedented. Your jaw drops.

You: omg you did not just send that

Honestly, your life is flashing before your eyes as you lie on your bed. Is this the power of your influence? Could you truly indoctrinate older men into sending emojis? Could this really be you?

Spencer: I most certainly did. I’ll even do it again.

Spencer: (:

He had to send it as a separate text. He couldn’t just add the smiley face to the end of his original message. No, of course he couldn’t.

You: omg who are you!!

You’re laughing now. Actually, properly laughing at the ridiculousness of this situation. Wait until Penelope hears about this.

Spencer: I don’t think these suit me very much, but they are fun. What about this one - 🙂

This is going too far. You’ve played God. You’ve flown too close to the sun. You’ve created a monster in the form of Spencer Reid using emojis while still being so formal. Still, you can’t deny that this is perhaps the funniest conversation you have ever had, with anyone, specifically because it perfectly demonstrates the unique humor shared between the two of you.

You: woah! careful! don’t push it, genius!!

And, in response to that, Spencer Reid is left with a philosophical question he has never before pondered: how does one convey sincere laughter via text? This reply takes him the longest, because he has to consider it very carefully. He wants it to indicate how funny he did find your message, and does find you, in general. He wants it to be obvious in its intent and impossible to misunderstand. So, after four minutes, you receive a text that has you laughing so hard you very nearly fall off of your bed.

Spencer: Haha.

Sometimes, that’s simply how your text conversations with Spencer end. While he does, generally, prefer a more traditional ending in the form of a goodnight text (that he actually makes the effort to sign off with a “- Spencer x”, like it’s a handwritten letter), he enjoys the nuances of an open end, on the basis it means a conversation with you doesn’t have to end. Only has to pause, temporarily, until one of you picks it back up again. There is something poetic, Spencer thinks, to the notion of you being his constant both in metaphor and literally in a text conversation that isn’t formally closed. That door is left open to you, much like the door to his heart is.

And that night, he closes his eyes with a smile on his face at the thought of you, everything you are, everything you make him feel. Everything that makes you, you, and how that makes you everything to him.

A text could never truly convey the heaven that you bring to him by existing, but just like proposing plans to watch Doctor Who with you, it’s a good place to start.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hello I wanted to request a Tmnt oneshot

Soooo if it is okay I would like well 2012 Tmnt all having a crush on the reader and they kinda have brotherly fights over her

Four Brothers and One Crush (Fluff/Crack)

2012!Turtles x reader

A/N: I love this idea! Sorry it took so long, but it’s finally here💚🐢

---------

All four of the Hamato brothers have developed a crush on you, but none of them can agree on which one of them you have a crush on💙❤️💜🧡

Warning: Spelling, siblings fighting, a few strange insults, the reader is not so oblivious.

---------

It started the day they met you, as cliche as it sounds, but it was true. From the moment the four Hamato brothers laid their eyes upon you, tension started rising. At first it wasn’t so bad. None of them seemed to notice their brothers developing a crush on you, only keeping their eyes on you and being totally blind to what was happening around them. But even though none of them seem to notice, you most certainly did.

Leonardo was constantly checking up on you, texting and calling, asking if you got home safe, or if you had heard about that horrible natural disaster in that one country, and if you were okay. The few times you had told him to relax a bit, he started offering to train you, citing that it would calm him down, knowing you would be able to defend yourself.

Raphael always hung around you, training and acting as if he didn’t see you there, showing off his muscles in the most unnatural way, yet acting as if it was. And he poked. He could never walk past you without poking you in the side, or having to say something mean. Yes, it had caused fights between the two of you, often with Raph refusing to say sorry to you, saying that you took it too seriously.

Donatello rambled a lot when you were around, either about something that he was working on, or something he had spent some time researching, often about things you knew absolutely nothing about. Often he had a tendency to talk himself into a corner, almost admitting his crush on you several times, only to bite himself in the tongue mid sentence and run for the hills, leaving you back in confusion.

And then there was Michelangelo, who had flat out admitted his crush on you, several times to your face. Yet for some reason, you did not believe him. There was no way that was true. If it was true, he would not be so calm while telling you so. No, he would be as nervous and subtle as his brothers, feeling as if he had something to lose.

But you could not deny it. One of the four turtles had managed to catch your heart, making your cheeks burn with his funny ways of showing he cared for you. You had to admit it to yourself. You had developed a crush on the terrapin, and now, you were just looking for the best time to tell him.

—

It was like any other day in the lair. Leo was glued to the TV screen, watching an episode of Space Heroes, Raph was punching his punching bag, so hard it was almost flying off the hinges, while Donnie tinkered away with whatever project he had going on in the corner. All of them caught up in their own things, as Mikey wandered into the room, a happy skip in his walk, humming as he went, causing all of his brothers to look at him strangely. It wasn’t uncommon for Mikey to act like this, but there was something different about it today. It was as if he wanted his brothers to look, so he could tell them what had gotten him into such a good mood. But they did not have to ask. One questionable look, and he happily told them.

“Today’s the day, boys”, Mikey said, almost sliding across the floor with a smug smile on his face, daring them to ask further. “It’s finally happening”.

Donnie was the one to take the bait, mainly hoping to get some peace from his little brother. “What is happening?”, he asked.

“I’m getting a girlfriend today”, the young turtle said, turning as he basked in the imaginary sunlight

“A girlfriend?”, Raph asked, giving the punching bag one last hard punch, before fully turning his attention towards the youngest turtle. “How the hell do you expect to be getting a girlfriend today? I mean, look at you”.

“Hey! That was not nice”, Mikey grumbled. “Leo, tell Raph to be so mean to me”.

“Just answer the question, Mikey”, the oldest turtle sighed, pausing Captain Ryan, before he could get to his speech of the episode. He did not want to miss it, just because of Mikey’s strange ideas.

“Fine”, Mikey said, a pleased smile presenting itself on his face once again. “I’ve just invited (Y/N) to come down and watch a movie, and tonight I’ll finally ask her to be my girlfriend”.

Raph, who had started punching his punching bag once more, almost fell over by the sheer force of his swing. Leo almost dropped the television remote, and Donnie yelped as he accidentally shocked himself with the wiring of whatever he was making.

“Wow”, Mikey mumbled at their shocked reactions. “Is it really so hard to believe I have a crush on her?”, he asked, scratching his head, thinking back to all the times you had seemed to not believe his admissions to you.

“No, it’s not that”, Leo said, walking to his brother to put a hand on his shoulder. Oh, how was he going to tell him this? “It’s just because you can’t do that, Mikey”.

“And why not?”, the orange clad turtle asked, raising an eyebrow.

Leo sighed, fearing what reaction he would awaken within the young terrapin. “Well, you see… she isn’t interested in you that way. She had feelings for someone else”.

“Leo’s right”, Raph butted in. “It has nothing to do with you, little brother, but we’ve known for some time she has had some pretty strong feelings for me”.

“Wow, no”, Leo said, crossing his arms. “You were definitely not the one I was talking about”.

“Yeah, Raph!”, Donnie exclaimed, joining the argument. “Leo was obviously talking about me!”

“What? No! I was talking about me!”, Leo said, growing slightly frustrated.

“Really? You?”, Raph asked, cocking his brow. “She has eyes, Leo. She obviously likes the best looking one”.

“Yeah! Me!”, Mikey yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

“Mikey, have you been playing with chemicals in my lab again, or are you really being serious?”, Donnie asked, hands on his hip.

“Oh, you think you’re the better looking one here?”, Leo asked.

“Doesn’t matter if I’m the better looking one - even though I am - but what matters is that (Y/N) has a crush on me”, the purple clad turtle said.

“Just because a few girls on the internet say they like a tooth gap, it doesn’t mean that any of them would find you attractive”, Raph said, his frustration growing with each passing second.

“Says the guy with a cracked plastron and a battered ego”, retorted Donnie. And that was when all hell broke loose. Raph, who now saw fire before his eyes, jumped on Donnie. Leo and Mikey tried to pull the fighting brothers apart, but it didn’t take long before they two were sucked into the fight, screaming and yelling over which one of them you had a crush on. But with their focus being on their fight, none of them noticing you in the entrance, with a stack of pizza boxes, slowly fishing out a piece to eat while watching the unfolding chaos in front of you, wondering how long it would take for them to notice. But none of them seemed to do, being so caught up in their need to be right. It wasn’t until Raph was about to bite down on Donnie’s ankle, that you decided to speak up.

“You’re right”, you chuckled, taking a bite of your pizza as you watched the four brothers turned stunned towards you, frozen in their actions, their eyes wide and their jaws hanging loose. “I have a crush on one of you”.

“Who?!”, they asked in a yell, almost jumping at your feet.

“Well, one of you guessed it”, you smirked, finding the whole scene of the four squirmin mutant turtles amusing. Was it wrong? Probably, but you could not help yourself. Having four guys fight over was the dream of many girls, so why should you not let yourself enjoy it for just a moment?

“Who guessed it?! Who guessed it?!”, Mikey yelled with an exacerbated gasp, his brothers looking at you in anticipation, hoping for their name to spill from your lips.

You shrugged, fighting a smirk. Damn you were mean, but you could not help yourself. It was actually quite fun. “That’s for you guys to figure out”, you said, taking another bite of your pizza slice, before walking past them, making your way to the television, leaving the turtles staring after you. “Now, where’s the move? I was promised a movie tonight!”

[ellswritings]

Wolf’s Bane 1x09

Episode 10

A pair of headlights flash into Fallon’s eyes as she roughly turns the wheel to Derek’s sleek black Camaro. Stiles is in the seat next to her, Scott in the back. She’s pushing around sixty miles per hour in a twenty-five mile zone, but with the person in the large SUV behind them, she’s getting dangerously close to just flooring it.

“Fallon, if you could stop driving like a freaking grandmother, that would be great!” Stiles chides sarcastically.

“If I go any faster, I’m gonna flip, Stiles!” She snaps, turning a sharp corner causing the car to lift up on one side slightly. “Besides, I am not crashing Derek’s car. He would have my head on a stick!”

The brunette and Scott had managed to make up not long after the full moon. While the words he said still stung, his apology was pretty awesome. He showed up to her house with a bouquet of moonflowers, her favorite, and a whole box of pizza for them to share. He also spent ninety percent of the night groveling and telling her to slap him for what he said, which she never did, but she appreciated the sentiment.

Hence why she’s now part of some elaborate plan to confuse the police and hunters of Derek’s whereabouts. The three teens are driving his car while Derek chases after the Alpha as the police are chasing him. But they are also chasing the trio. They don’t know how the plan came into action, but it’s way too late to stop now.

“Fallon, I really don’t think you’re grasping the concept of a car chase, here!” Stiles yells at her again.

“I’m not going any faster! It’ll kill us,” she tries to reason with him.

“Well, if you don’t go any faster, they’re gonna kill us!” He turns to point to the hunters chasing them, but the SUV seems to have disappeared. “They’re gone.”

“Damn it,” Fallon grumbles, taking that as her sign to floor it. “Derek, if I crash your car… please don’t kill me,” she whispers.

Stiles turns his police radio on and the voice of his father echoes through the car, “All units, suspect is on foot, heading into the iron works.”

“Copy that,” the girl replies, speeding up before turning down a dark alleyway she knows leads to the iron works. They see a small explosion and a few hunters loading their weapons as Derek lays on the ground. The brunette rolls down the passenger side window, forcing Stiles into the back as she skids to an unsafe stop. “Get in!” She yells.

Shots are fired as the werewolf runs as fast as he can, jumping expertly through the small window and sliding in next to Fallon. She pushes her foot to the floor as bullets bounce off the side of the Camaro. The tires screech loudly as she zooms out of the iron works. “Oh so now you go over a hundred,” Stiles snarks. “Just because Derek’s in the car?”

“No, you idiot. Because we’re being shot at!” She yells, while glaring at him through the rearview mirror. “Now shut up and let me drive,”

“God, Derek, what part of laying low don’t you understand?” Scott asks frustratedly.

“Damn it, I had him!” Derek exclaims, completely ignoring Scott.

“Who?” Stiles leans forward from his spot beside Scott. “The Alpha?”

“Yes!” Derek scoffs impatiently. “He was right in front of me, and the freakin’ police showed up,” he growls under his breath out of pure annoyance.

“Whoa! Hey, they’re just doing their jobs–” Stiles tries to defend his fathers and his deputies choice of profession, but is cut off by Derek throwing a glare his way.

“Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!” Derek snaps sarcastically. Stiles opens and closes his mouth, not knowing how to defend himself. Scott has his guilty face on while Fallon puts her finger up, offended.

“Okay, first of all, I never agreed with anything they said to the police. I just said I wanted to go home. Your name never came out of my mouth,” she argues.

“Both hands on the wheel!” Derek yells at her, gripping her right hand and placing it firmly around the steering wheel.

“Stop yelling at me!” Fallon screams back at him, making the man raise his eyebrows at her.

“Did you really just yell at me to get me to stop yelling at you?”

“Okay!” Stiles cuts them both off. “Can we get back on track please? You said you had the Alpha. How did you find him?”

Derek stays silent, not revealing his information to any of them. Scott scoffs at his immature behavior, “Can you trust us for at least half a second.”

“No,” he responds bluntly.

“Fallon? Can you trust Fallon?” Stiles asks quickly.

“Yes.”

Stiles’ eyes widen. His brain short circuits before he grips onto the head of Derek’s chair. “Are you serious? You trust her? He asks offendedly. “How about all three of us?”

“Or just me,” Fallon smiles smugly at Stiles through the rearview mirror. “We all know he’s not gonna trust you guys any time soon. So why don’t we just let him explain?”

Derek nods, turning to physically only address Fallon. “Look, the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out. She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris.”

Harris. As in Adrian Harris? Their chemistry teacher? While she would love to believe that he’s a murderous Alpha werewolf so there could be a reason to explain his rude behavior, he just doesn’t seem like the supernatural type. The man himself is a jerk, but not enough to be running around at night killing people. In fact, he seems like the person to be more afraid of a werewolf rather than being one. Or is that what the Alpha wants them all to think?

“Our chemistry teacher?” Stiles asks in just as much disbelief as Fallon.

The girl turns the car down another quiet side road as Scott furrows his eyebrows, “Why him?”

“I don’t know yet,” Derek answers.

“What’s the second thing?” Fallon asks, briefly looking towards Derek.

Derek reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded up piece of paper. He unfolds it so they can all see it clearly and holds it up for them to see. It’s a wolf inside of what could possibly be a pendant. “Some kind of symbol,” Derek says. When Scott gets a good look at it, he groans quietly, rolling his eyes. “What? You know what this is?” The man questions aggressively, needing answers sooner rather than later.

“I’ve seen it on a necklace,” Scott sighs. “Allison’s necklace.”

“Oh, what a relief,” Fallon snarks. “That shouldn’t pose an issue.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Scott pushes the door to the high school open, Fallon and Stiles following behind him. The werewolf huffs, “This is gonna be impossible, you know.” He tells them pessimistically.

“Why can’t one of you two just ask her to borrow it?” Stiles suggests. “I mean, she doesn’t hate Fallon.”

“It would still raise a couple of questions if I just randomly asked for her necklace, Stiles,” Fallon points out. “Her family barely trusts me as it is.”

“Weren’t you over there just the other day?” The boy questions.

“Yes,” Fallon nods. “But that doesn’t mean they’re gonna be totally fine with me just taking Allison’s necklace. They’ll want an explanation.”

“So just lie,” Stiles shrugs. “You’re good at that.”

“Thank you?” She furrows her eyebrows. “But I’m still not gonna do it. Her mom scares me.”

Stiles groans overdramatically, throwing his head back, “Scott?” He asks hopefully.

“How would I even get it from her?”

“It's easy! You just say, ‘Hey, Allison, can I borrow your necklace to see if there's anything on it or in it that can lead me to an Alpha Werewolf that I need to kill in order to get back together with you?’” Stiles answers unseriously.

“You’re not helping,” Scott glares at him.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?”

“She won’t talk to me,” Scott huffs. “What if she, like, only takes it off in the shower or something?”

“That's why you ease… that's why you ease back into it, okay?” He pats Scott’s shoulders. “Get back on her good side. Remind her of the good times. And then you ask for the necklace.“

Fallon can see the distant look on Scott’s eyes, “You’re thinking about her in the shower aren’t you?” She asks monotonously.

“…Yeah,” he admits sheepishly.

“All right. Stay focused, okay?” Stiles shakes him straight. “Get the necklace. Get the Alpha. Get cured. Get Allison. In that order. Got it?”

Scott nods, “Get the necklace.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The school day had been pretty uneventful for Fallon. She had gone to her classes as normal, finished some homework, read a couple chapters of her book, and doodled in some of her notebooks. She thought she’d be able to get through the whole day with something terrible happening, until Scott came up to her and Stiles and informed them that Jackson “knows what he is.”

“How the hell did he even find out?” The girl asks questioningly. “What could’ve given it away?”

“I have no idea,” Scott replies nervously.

“Did he say it out loud?” Stiles waves his hands around worriedly. “The word?”

“What word?”

“Werewolf,” Stiles whispers loud enough for only them to hear. “Did he say ‘I know you’re a werewolf?’”

“No,” Scott sighs impatiently. “But he implied it pretty freaking clearly!”

“Okay, maybe it’s not as bad as we’re making it out to be,” Fallon says calmly. “I mean, he doesn’t technically have any proof of it, right?”

“Exactly,” Stiles nods. “And if he wanted to tell someone, who would believe him, anyway?”

“How about Allison’s father?” Scott says pointedly. He’s right. If Jackson were to tell Chris or Kate for that matter, Scott would have to go into hiding for the rest of his life.

“…Okay, it’s bad,” Fallon rubs the back of her neck.

“I need a cure– right now,” Scott insists desperately.

“Does he know about Allison’s father?” Stiles looks at Scott curiously.

“I don’t know.”

Stiles puts his hand out, stopping Fallon and Scott from moving any further. “Okay, where’s Derek?” He questions, wondering if the older man could be of some assistance.

“Hiding like we told him to,” Fallon answers with a shrug. “Why?”

“I have another idea…” he says mischievously. “It’s gonna take a little time and finesse, though.”

Fallon bites the inside of her cheek. Time and finesse with Stiles usually means something that is bordering illegal. The last time he used those specific words was when he wanted to take Fallon to the candy store downtown at one in the morning and lower her down through the air ducts because they were closed. His reasoning was “I really want salt water taffy.”

“Stiles, we have the quarterfinals tonight,” Fallon reminds him seriously. “And keep in mind, it’s also your first game. We can’t do anything to risk that, especially since your dad is coming.”

“I know, I know…” he waves her off, but she knows that with whatever he’s planning, something could definitely go wrong. He looks back at Scott, “Look do you have a plan for Allison yet?”

“She’s in my next class.”

Stiles pats his shoulder, “Get the necklace.” He grabs Fallon’s hand, pulling her along behind him, “And you are coming with me.”

Fallon’s heart sinks as she realizes now that she must be an instrumental part in his scheme. She turns back to Scott and mouths, ‘help me.’

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“You sent her romantic photos of the two of you?” Fallon asks in disbelief as she sits down in her seat at the lunch table across from Scott, Stiles sitting next to her. Allison had just ran to Fallon in complete tears, pulling her out of her class. Scott had sent her photos of them being close and lovey with each other which only made the poor girl feel guilty for her decision. While Fallon believes she was a bit over dramatic and rash in deciding to break up with Scott, he took the absolute wrong route to try and get the necklace. “What the hell were you thinking? I mean, there’s no way you actually thought that would get her to give you the necklace.”

“I didn’t even think it was that bad,” Scott frowns. “I thought it was sweet.”

Scott, she already feels like crap for dumping you,” Fallon points out. “Sending her those photos was like a punch to the gut. No wonder she told you not to talk to her anymore. There were so many better ways to have handled that.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he says quietly. “I really thought it was a nice gesture.”

“…So, she’s not giving you the necklace?” Stiles brings up awkwardly.

“She’s not giving me the necklace,” Scott answers quickly and irritably, angry that’s the only part Stiles seems to care about.

“Did you find anything else out?” Stiles asks, taking a decent bite out of his cheeseburger.

Scott looks to the roof frustratedly, “Just that I know nothing about girls, and that they’re totally psychotic.”

Fallon takes a bite of her peanut butter and jelly with a sarcastic nod, “Right, we’re psychotic when you're the one who thought it would be a great idea to send romantic photos to your ex-girlfriend to get her necklace. When instead you could’ve just said ‘hey, I don’t mean to be weird, I know we’re broken up, but I just wanted to say that’s a really cool pendant.’ But y’know, why would you want to do that? That would just be too easy.”

Stiles nods along with her words, Scott glaring at him slightly. “Okay, I came up with a Plan B just in case something like this happened,” he reveals.

“What’s Plan B?”

“Just steal the stupid thing!” He says bluntly, moving to open his drink.

“Why wasn’t that Plan A?” Fallon furrows her eyebrows. “I could’ve done that, easy.” It’s true. She and Allison have gym together, so when they were changing she could’ve easily gotten it off of her. Not that she likes to make a habit out of stealing people’s things, but this is for the greater good of Scott’s life.

“Do we really think that’s the best way?” Scott asks unsurely. “Couldn’t we at least try getting to Harris?”

Stiles shakes his head, “My dad put him under a twenty-four hour protective detail, okay? The necklace is all we got. Steal it,” he commands. “Thank you. Better it be you than Fallon who’s apparently itching to steal something,” he sends her a weird look.

“Okay, I’m not itching,” she defends herself. “I just like to steal sometimes. It makes my heart go fast.”

“I don’t know if I want to call you adorable or scary,” Stiles stares at her.

The three of them continue eating their lunch. Fallon steals one of Stiles’ fries while he takes one of her cookies. The two of them don’t notice Scott’s uncomfortability until he shifts in his seat to look at them, “Guys, he’s watching us.” He nods his head towards a table in the distance.

Fallon and Stiles look up, noticing Jackson staring at them with a smug smirk. It sends chills down her skin the way his predatory gaze is stuck on them. Ever since Scott’s made it onto Coach’s radar, Jackson has been absolutely insufferable. He really wasn’t that bad before, but now she questions why she even became friends with him in the first place.

“I wanna punch him,” she mumbles. “… again. But this time harder. Like I want to break his nose.” She glares at Jackson, but the blonde isn’t focused enough on her to see her anger.

“Okay…” Stiles places a hesitant hand on her back, rubbing it up and down. “Easy there killer.”

The two of them notice Scott zoning out and going slightly pale. Stiles leans forward, “What’s wrong?”

“Jackson's talking to me,” Scott tells them worriedly. He scoots forward in his seat, panicking as he tries to get closer to his best friends. “He knows I can hear him. Look at me. Just talk to me. Act normal. Pretend that nothing's happening.”

“Just let me go over there and punch him,” Fallon begs. “Seriously, I’ll get him to stop talking. Maybe I can take Stiles with me and he can kill him with his sarcasm and supernatural ability to annoy people.”

“Hey!” The boy smacks her, offended.

“Would one of you guys just say something!” Scott whispers. “Just talk to me!”

“I can’t think of anything– my mind’s completely blank,” Stiles sets his water bottle down.

Scott looks at him baffled, “Your mind is blank? You can’t think of something to say?”

Stiles defends himself, “Not under this kind of pressure.”

“Technically we are talking to you,” Fallon says pointedly. “Your stiff posture is what’s giving it away.” She glances back up and furrows her brows, “And he’s not even sitting there anymore.”

Scott spins around quickly, noting the blonde’s absence. His concern grows, “Where the hell is he?”

“Looking for me, McCall? I'm right here. So, what else can you do? Huh? Can you see better? Are you stronger, more powerful? No, I knew there was no way you suddenly got that good at lacrosse... Which means you're actually a cheater, aren't you? I mean, can you even play lacrosse?”

“Yes,” Scott mutters defensively out of nowhere. He squeezes the water bottle in his hand so tightly that his whole arm begins to shake.

Fallon reaches forward, encasing her hands around his, “Scott…” she warns. “Don’t feed into it. Ignore him.”

“I'll bet my new co-captain's gonna score a bunch of shots tonight, aren't you? And while you're pretending you're not a lying cheat, I'm gonna ruin your life if you don't give me what I want. And you know what I'm gonna start with? Her.”

Scott’s entire body goes rigid. Fallon wishes she could hear what antagonizing words Jackson’s saying to him. “Scott, what’s going on?” Stiles asks, concerned. “What’s happening?”

“Talk to us,” Fallon begs, trying to pull him out of whatever angry trance he’s in. “What is he saying to you?”

He stays completely silent, only listening to Jackson’s mumbling. Stiles snaps his fingers in front of Scott’s face, but it doesn’t even earn a blink from the zoned out boy. The two friends try to search the lunch room, but Jackson is nowhere to be found.

“I'm gonna destroy any chance you'll ever have with her. And, when I'm done with that, I'm gonna get her all alone, and I'm gonna get my hands all over that tight little body.”

Scott’s hand quakes violently as he brings his water bottle up to his mouth, taking a sip to try and calm himself down. Fallon’s leg bounces up and down as she watches Scott with troubled eyes. Is he going to turn in the middle of the lunch room? Or just go and murder Jackson?

Stiles leans closer to his best friend, “Scott, come on, you can’t let him do this. You can’t let him have this kind of power over you, okay?”

“I'm gonna do everything you never got the chance to do, and Scott? She's gonna beg for more.”

Scott is now gripping his plastic tray with a deadly amount of force. His face is starting to flush red with anger as the plastic in his hands begins to crack under the pressure.

“I bet she likes to get loud. Maybe she's even a screamer. How are you gonna feel, Scott... When she's screaming my name?”

Fallon and Stiles grip onto each other as the tray finally snaps in half, causing his plate to fall with a loud crash onto the table. Pretty much every head in the lunch room turned to look at them. Fallon’s lips form in a tight line as she raises her hand to dismiss their new audience.

“Proceed with your business,” she says. “We’re fine… everything is just fine,” she mumbles the last part quietly, but Stiles and Scott know that they are so far from fine.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“I don’t understand why my presence is required for you to look up what Allison’s pendant means,” Fallon tells Stiles as she enters his room behind him, flopping down on his bed like she usually does.

“Because you’re better at taking notes than I am,” he shrugs as if it’s obvious. “And I didn’t wanna do it by myself… so there’s that.” He waves his hand in the air, “And I’m feeding your sorry ass, so don’t act like it’s that big of a burden.”

“True,” Fallon sighs contently. “I suppose I can’t complain.”

“Exactly,” Stiles nods. “Y’know what’s really funny? Normally dogs are either food or toy motivated, but it seems I’ve found a human that’s also motivated by food.”

“Are you calling me a dog?” She sits up, glaring daggers at him.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m just saying you have dog-like tendencies.”

“You may be right,” she admits gruffly. “I’m starting to get the urge to attack.” The two of them make prolonged eye contact before she surges forward making the boy flinch with a small yelp. She throws her head back, cackling loudly at his fear of her.

She’s still laughing when Noah calls out for his son, “Hey, Stiles!”

Fallon sits up from her spot, but her eyes turn as wide as saucers when she sees Derek Hale staring directly at her, “Holy shi–” she tries to scream.

She’s swiftly cut off by Derek picking her up from the bed and pulling her out of sight behind the slightly ajar door. He slaps a hand over her mouth, pushing her body into the wall. He cages her in, one arm on the side of her head while his one hand remains on her mouth. She squirms under his hold making him tighten his grip.

“Relax,” he whispers through clenched teeth. “Don't say a word.”

Stiles barely turns, not even hearing the sudden commotion behind him. “Yo, D–” He jumps slightly when he sees his best friend pinned to the door, “Derek?”

The brooding man moves his free hand in front of his lips, using his finger to signal Stiles to shut up. He could have easily done that to Fallon, but apparently that would’ve been too easy. He uses the same finger to point to the halfway open door as the sheriff comes up to talk to his son.

Stiles sends Fallon a panicked look before stumbling over to the door, shutting it a bit more behind him so his father can’t see the poor girl being shoved against his bedroom wall. The door rattles on its hinges making Derek roll his eyes.

“What’d you say?” They hear the sheriff say.

Stiles tries to play it cool, “What? I said, ‘Yo, D–Dad,” he scoffs out a laugh as if it was obvious.

“Is Fallon here?” He wonders. “I thought I heard the two of you come in together.”

“Uh. Y-Yeah, she’s here. In my room…” Stiles stutters awkwardly. “Just studying and stuff. Y’know, ‘cause she’s smart.”

Fallon cringes at his rambling. Sheriff Stilinski sends his son a small grin, “You ever gonna tell that poor girl how you feel about her?”

Fallon and Stiles’ eyes shoot wide open at the sentence. Stiles splutters profusely while Fallon simply glares at Derek who has an amused eyebrow raised. Still not a hint of a smile though.

“I’m sorry, what?!” His son shakes his head. “No. No, no, no, no. Fallon and me– just friends. No feelings. In fact, I don’t even think she’s a girl. She doesn’t count.”

“Yeah,” Noah nods skeptically. “That's what they all say.“ He shakes off the playfully tone before sighing, “Anyway, listen, I’ve got something that I’ve got to take care of, but I’m gonna be there tonight,” he promises. “I mean, your first game!”

Fallon huffs under Derek’s hand which still hasn’t moved. It’s Stiles’ first game, and the semifinal, and he ends up getting stuck trying to figure out all this werewolf drama for Scott. He deserves a chance to play in the spotlight for once. Scott better get that necklace, if not for himself, then at least for Stiles’ sake. At this rate, especially with Derek here, she doesn’t even think she’ll be able to play tonight.

Stiles nods his head up and down, “My first game!” Stiles repeats with a small fist bump into the air. She couldn’t tell if that was sarcasm or actual excitement, but knowing Stiles and their current situation, it’s probably the former. “Guh– it’s great! Awesome. Uh, good!”

“I’m very happy for you,” Noah smiles genuinely. “And I’m really proud of you.”

Fallon expected Stiles to just thank his dad or say ‘I love you,’ but she should’ve known better. “Thanks… Me too. I’m happy and proud… of myself.”

“So, they’re really gonna let you play, right?” Noah asks unsurely, still having a hard time grasping the concept of his son being first line.

Stiles beams, “Yeah, Dad– I’m first line. Believe that?”

Noah nods, “I’m very proud.”

“Oh, me too,” Stiles says with a rushed smile. “Again, I’m–”

Sheriff Stilinski leans forward, pulling Stiles in for the most awkward hug Fallon has ever witnessed. They pay each other on the back, “Huggie, huggie…” Stiles mutters weirdly. “Huggie.”

“Idiot,” Fallon says, still muffled by Derek’s hand.

Noah looks at his son oddly but nonetheless nods, “See you there,” he waves at his son before taking off down the stairs. Fallon lets out a breath of relief as Derek lets her go. She lightly pushes him out of her way, glaring at him as she goes to move. She gasps though as Stiles closes the door, Derek taking the opportunity to then pin him to it.

She gapes at him, “What is with you and pinning people to things?”

Derek ignores her, snarling at Stiles as he goes to open his mouth. “If you say one word–”

“Oh, what? You mean like, ‘Hey dad, Derek Hale’s in my room. Bring your gun?!’” Stiles cuts him off sassily. Derek falters for a moment, realizing that Stiles does technically have the power in this situation. They told him to hide, but he chose to come to the Sheriff’s house. The only thing protecting him right now is Stiles’ silence. “Yeah, that’s right. If I’m harboring your fugitive ass, it’s my house,” he slaps Derek’s chest cockily making Fallon smirk, “my rules, buddy.”

Derek clenches his jaw. He remains silent, but eventually he slowly nods, releasing his tight grip on Stiles. He pulls down the boy's jacket to rearrange it from where he pulled it out of proportion during his attempt at threatening him. Stiles huffs out a laugh, and being his usual self, does the same for Derek's leather jacket

That earns a menacing jerk of the head from Derek causing Stiles to flinch similarly to when Fallon pretended to surge at him earlier. “Oh my God!” He says fearfully before returning to his desk.

Fallon stays on Stiles’ bed, glancing at Derek every few seconds to make sure he doesn’t try to pin her to the wall again. Her mind is still a little fuzzy from the first time. Whether it be from the lack of oxygen or because she secretly enjoyed it, they’ll never know.

“Scott didn’t get the necklace?” Derek asks, following Stiles over to his laptop.

“No. He's still working on it. But, there's something else we can try.” He spins in his chair to face Derek. “The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there.”

“So? Derek shrugs, not seeing how that pertains to their current issue.

“So…” Fallon leans forward in a patronizing tone, almost as if she were explaining it to a child, “It wasn’t Scott.”

Derek glances at her like he wants to throw her through a wall rather than pin her to it. “Well, can you guys find out who sent it?” He questions aggressively.

“No,” Stiles shakes his head. “At least not one of us,” he points between himself and Fallon. “But I think I know someone who can…”

Stiles pulls out his phone and as soon as she sees the smirk on Stiles’ face and the words “lab work” come out of his mouth, she already knew who he was calling.

Danny.

He probably has no clue that Stiles knows about his previous run-ins with the law. The only reason Fallon knows is because he and her are really close. She’s pretty sure the only people he’s told are her and Jackson. She groans, “Stiles, you can’t just ambush him like this.”

“Do you have a better idea?” He scoffs.

“Uh, yeah,” she nods. “Just tell him you need a favor and that you’ll owe him one. He’s a pretty easy going guy if you haven’t noticed.”

“This is more fun,” Stiles shrugs. His phone pings with a message from Danny, “I’ll be right back. He’s here.” Stiles runs out of the room, leaving Derek and Fallon alone until he returns.

She gazes at the man, “So… that was a pretty aggressive greeting,” she says sarcastically, recalling the way he didn’t even say hello to her when he came in.

Derek’s eyes flicked to her, his expression as unreadable as ever. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at her with that intense gaze that always seemed to see right through her. Fallon forces herself not to look away, refusing to be intimidated by his silence.

“I heard your heartbeat rising,” Derek finally said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

Fallon feels her cheeks flush slightly at his words, and she quickly covers it with a scoff. “Oh, please. You had me pinned against a wall with your hand over my mouth. My heart was racing because I thought you were going to suffocate me, not because I enjoyed it.”

Derek’s lips twitch, just barely, but it’s enough for Fallon to notice. “Sure,” he said, clearly not buying her excuse. He pushes off the wall and took a step closer to her, his presence once again filling the small space between them. “You’re not as good at hiding things as you think, Fallon.”

Her eyes narrow at his words, her stubbornness flaring up. “And you’re not as unreadable as you think, Derek.”

This time, it was Derek’s turn to scoff, though it was a much quieter sound. He takes another step closer, and Fallon finds herself involuntarily pressing herself further into the bed. “If that were true,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “you wouldn’t have reacted the way you did when I grabbed you.”

Fallon swallows hard, her heart beating a little faster as he looms over her. The girl knows he’s only saying that to get under her skin, to rattle her so she stops talking. She wasn’t going to let him win though. Fallon’s never been one to step down from a challenge. “You’re assuming I was flustered because of you,” she counters, trying to keep her voice steady. “Maybe I just don’t like being manhandled.”

Derek’s eyes flicker down for the briefest of moments before meeting her gaze again. “Keep telling yourself that,” he murmurs.

Fallon’s breath hitches slightly at the intensity in his voice, but she quickly masks it with a smirk. “I will.”

Before Derek could respond, the sound of footsteps on the stairs broke the tension between them. He quickly steps away, putting some distance between them as Stiles returns with Danny in tow.

“Fallon?” Danny tilts his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Um,” she purses her lips, “nothing worth noting. Just kind of here… taking up space.”

“Are you gonna help us with lab work?” He asks curiously as Stiles plops back down in his chair.

“Actually,” Stiles gets his attention with a shake of his head. “We’re not doing lab work. I need you to do something else for us.”

“What?” Danny furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean we’re not doing lab work?” He scoffs. “That's why you invited me here.”

“That was a lie,” Siles shrugs nonchalantly. “Fallon and I need you to do something mucho importante. We need your crazy hacker skills to trace a text for us,” he blurts out, typing fervently on his computer.

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?” Danny shakes his head in disbelief.

“Trace a text,” Stiles enunciates condescendingly, as if Danny doesn’t understand the request.

Fallon feels bad for Danny. He genuinely came here to do lab work and Stiles just exploited his crime record. In the grand scheme of things, Danny doing this is going to be a big help, but they way he was manipulated into coming here might bite them back karmic wise in the future.

The brunette girl rolls her eyes, pulling Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. She should’ve been on the sixth book by now, but with all the supernatural issues going on, it’s been hard to find downtime. Her eyes gloss over the pages, immersing herself in the fictional world. The only issue is that as she tries to delve deeper, she can feel Derek’s stare on the back of her neck. It’s almost as if he expects her to conversate with him. She thought he’d love the fact he can just stand there in his broody silence, not being bothered by anyone.

“I came here to do lab work– that’s what lab partners do,” Danny tells him, growing increasingly more annoyed.

Stiles groans, running a hand through his buzzcut. “And we will! …Once you trace the text,” he says, making an ultimatum out of it.

Danny glares at him, “And what makes you think I know how?”

Stiles turns sheepish, stuttering slightly. Fallon doesn’t bother looking up from her book, “He looked up your arrest report,” she reveals monotonously, flipping the page.”

Danny’s face falls defeatedly, “I-I was thirteen,” he says defensively. “They dropped the charges.”

Stiles puts his hands up, indicating with his gesture that he’s not accusing Danny of anything. “Whatever,” he shrugs.

Danny looks like he considers it for a moment, but ultimately huffs and determinedly sets his backpack down. He takes a seat next to Stiles, “No. We’re doing lab work,” he insists.

Fallon sighs, finally looking up from her book. “Please, Danny…?” She begs nicely. “If you do this, I’ll seriously owe you one. I’ll even do your guys’ lab work,” she proposes.

“Wait, seriously?” Stiles spins around causing Fallon to narrow her eyes at him. “Nevermind…” he mumbles.

Danny looks like he wants to say yes, but his need to be a good student seems to be winning. He shakes his head, turning his attention back to Stiles’ computer. It doesn’t last for long though as his attention is pulled over to where Derek is sitting, reading Fallon’s copy of the Prisoner of Azkaban. She lends him a copy of whatever book he is on. He’s a pretty fast reader, she's noticed. He should be further along too, but with having to pretend to be dead for a bit, he fell behind. Fallon glances in Danny’s direction, noticing him slightly ogling Derek, not that the werewolf noticed.

“Who’s he again?” She hears Danny whisper to Stiles.

Derek slipped his jacket off a few moments prior, laying it next to Fallon’s spot on the bed. He’s in a tight-fitted light gray t-shirt. His muscles bulge out of the fabric, the lightness of the color really making his eyes pop. The top of his chest peeks out due to the buttons being undone, but no one in the room seems to mind.

Stiles tries to find a believable answer. He glances back at Derek before slowly turning back to Danny, “Um, my cousin…” he pauses, “Miguel.”

Fallon snorts rather loudly at the lie. She covers it up with a cough as all three boys turn to look at her. Derek’s glare stays on her the longest, not appreciating how humorous she’s finding the situation.

“Is that blood on his shirt?”

Fallon’s eyes widen. Sure enough, as she looks over at Derek, there’s a nice and noticeable blood stain right on his t-shirt. She shoots him a pointed look, “Where did that come from?” She seethes through clenched teeth. “What have you even been doing?”

Danny and Stiles can’t hear her though. “Yeah. Yes, well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds,” Stiles effortlessly excuses. He glances back at Derek with false politeness, “Hey, Miguel… I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts?”

Derek closes the book in one swift motion, never taking his glare off Stiles. With an unnecessary amount of aggression, he tosses it onto the bed as he stands up jerkily and walks over to the dresser. Fallon watches as he pulls his shirt over his head angrily, tossing it onto the ground.

The girl bites her lip as she watches him rummage through Stiles’ drawers. His back muscles flex with every moment, showing off the large tattoo that takes up most of his back. She tries to keep her focus on the book, but she’d have to be a nun to ignore the attractive man in front of her. If her father saw the way she was looking at Derek right now, he’d probably be sent into an early grave. Or go after him with a shotgun. No previous hunter training required.

“So, anyway, I mean, we both know you have the skills to trace that text, so we should probably–”

“Uh, Stiles,” Derek interrupts the boy who is still trying to convince Danny to contribute to their cause.

“Yes?” Stiles bats his eyelashes innocently.

He holds up a tiny black and white striped t-shirt. He pulls it in two different directions with his hands to emphasize his point, “This… no fit,” he says irritably.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Then try something else on.”

Fallon looks up at Derek, “Sorry,” she mouths at him. If she could help, she would. But there’s no way with Derek’s physique that he's going to find something that fits him in Stiles’ room.

She looks back down at her book, managing to finish the page she was on before Stiles’ voice pulls her back into the conversation. “Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh? What do you think, Danny?” He says nudging him to look at Derek.

Fallon’s jaw drops when she sees the bright orange and blue shirt covering Derek’s body. While the fit of it does bring out his… well, everything. It doesn't look very comfortable, nor is it his style. Derek clearly hates it as well as his usual scowl deepens. If Lydia were to see this monstrosity, she would throw Stiles in jail for even possessing a shirt that looks like that. She’s pretty sure Stiles has never even worn that in his life.

“Huh?” Danny shifts uncomfortably.

“The shirt?” Stiles continues to push on his opinion.

Danny looks at Derek, either finding him extremely attractive or extremely scary, Fallon couldn’t tell which. “It’s… It’s not really his color,” he says, swallowing thickly.

Danny’s gaze lingers for a moment as Derek takes off yet another shirt. Stiles leans over to the goalie with a smug smile, “You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don’t you Danny boy?” He whispers menacingly, calling his lab partner out.

“You’re a horrible person.”

Stiles looks up at his curling as if actually pondering his terrible behavior, “I know. It keeps me awake at night.” He sleeps like a baby pretty much every night. It takes Fallon, Scott, and the aroma of chocolate chip pancakes to get him to wake up at sleepovers. “Anyway, about that text…”

“Stiles!” Derek shouts, his temper now officially snapped. He holds another shirt in his hands, but it’s obvious that one won’t work for him either. “None of these fit!”

Danny immediately turns back to the computer, not able to look at Derek change anymore. He begins typing, “I’ll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of text.”

Fallon and Stiles make eye contact, quietly celebrating their little victory. Fallon jumps up, hugging Danny from behind, “You’re the best. Seriously, I meant what I said. I definitely owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy waves off. “Just lend me copy off your history notes and we’re even.”

“Done,” she nods happily.

They allow Danny to work for about thirty minutes in complete silence, which has to be a new record for Fallon and Stiles. The two of them collectively struggle to stay quiet for more than ten. But it was already enough of a struggle to convince Danny, they didn’t need to piss him off anymore than he already was. She watches impressed as information flies across the screen, all by Danny’s doing. Suddenly, he stops.

“There,” he points to the screen, causing Derek to walk closer so he can get a better look. He stands directly behind Fallon, his breath faintly hitting her neck causing chills to run down her spine. She shuffles over a bit to have more room, earning a curious look from Derek himself. “The text was sent from a computer.” He points towards the name, “This one.”

Fallon, Stiles, and Derek stare at the screen in shock and confusion. How could this be the computer the text was sent from?

“Registered to that account name?” Derek asks skeptically.

“No,” Fallon shakes her head. “No, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“That can’t be right,” Stiles breathes out.

On the bright screen in front of them reads the words Account registered to: Beacon Hills Hospital– Melissa McCall.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon sits in the backseat of Stiles’ jeep, Derek taking up the passenger seat. She knew better than to argue with him, either way she would’ve ended up in the same spot. Just one scenario he’s mad at her, and the other he’s not. Hence why she chose the latter. Her leg bounces up and down nervously as she checks the time on her phone. The game starts in less than thirty minutes. She has never missed a game out of her own free will, and Coach is gonna kill her when he realizes she’s not there already.

“Did you get the picture?” Scott asks Stiles through the phone. Fallon can hear the faint cheering from the crowd through the speaker and a pout crosses over her face. She should’ve gone with Scott to steal the necklace.

On the bright side, at least he found the pendant. He sent the group of three a picture of it, the real thing matching up with the sketch Derek showed them pretty well. All the important details seemed to be there. She might’ve made it a little neater if she drew it, but that’s just her inner artist's need for perfection.

The unlikely trio sits in the parking lot of the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital Long Term Care facility. Derek forced Stiles to drive them there, but didn’t explain why. Said he would tell them when they got there.

“Yeah, I did, and it looks just like the drawing,” Stiles answers.

Derek grabs Stiles’ wrist with no remorse, pulling it at an awkward angle so he can talk into the phone. “Hey, is there something on the back of it? There's gotta be something-- an inscription, an opening, something…”

“No, no, the thing's flat,” Scott says, much to Derek’s disappointment. “And, no, it doesn't open. There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you guys? You're supposed to be here. Coach is gonna go ballistic when he realizes neither of you are ready.”

“Where the hell is Bilinski?!” The hear Coach shout through the phone. Suddenly his voice becomes impossibly louder, “McCall! Where’s Donovan?” He asks, his tone of voice angry, and from what she can tell, a bit nervous. “Why isn’t she out here running drills? Is that her on the phone right now?” They hear a small scuffle go on, “Donovan! You better get your ass out on this field toot sweet or you’ll be running sucides until you actually commit suicide, do you understand me?!”

Fallon’s eyes shoot open. That definitely was not a bluff. The rest of her lacrosse career is going to be a living nightmare. Scott sighs, finally getting his phone back. “Stiles, you’re not gonna play if you’re not here to start,” he says sadly. “And Fallon, Coach might actually combust if you don’t show up.”

The girl groans, putting her head in her hands. “I know,” she mumbles.

Stiles feels an immense amount of frustration, throwing his hand up. “We know,” he sighs, realizing that they're sacrificing what could lead them to the semi-finals. “Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him… tell him I’ll be there. We’ll just be a little bit late, okay? All right, thanks.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and hands it to Fallon. “He said he needs to tell you something.”

She furrows her eyebrows but takes the phone anyway, “Hey Scotty, what’s up?” She greets, placing the phone next to her ear.

“Fall, I’m really sorry, but I may or may not have made a huge mistake,” he starts off, immediately making her nervous.

“What kind of mistake?” She asks, sending a worried look to Stiles.

“Chris caught me sneaking out of his house this afternoon when I went to steal the necklace. He started asking me questions about Derek and why I talk to him, and I may have mentioned that the two of you tend to talk a lot too. I promise I didn’t mean to. But you need to be careful, he–”

“Scott, why the hell would you tell him that I talk to Derek?” Fallon asks angrily. “I was the only one out of the three of us who had a decent relationship with that family!”

“I was under a lot of pressure, okay?” Scott tries to defend himself. “He just kept pushing for information and I just accidentally let it slip. I’m sorry…”

The girl groans loudly once more, a migraine slowly seeping its way into her head. “Okay, whatever. I-It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out if he asks. Just try to keep Coach from losing his mind. We’ll be there soon. Okay, bye.”

Fallon didn’t have time to think about the future lecture from Chris Argent. He’s a really nice guy, despite the fact he’s been hunting one of her best friends since third grade and her other friend who happens to like taking her books. He’ll no doubt tell Michael about her secret relationship with Derek which means her father will actually send her to Azkaban. And by that she means, lock her in her room with cameras, only allowing her out for school with the occasional visit from Scott and Stiles. She’ll also probably lose her motorcycle privileges.

“You guys aren’t gonna make it,” Derek says bluntly.

Stiles nods with a sigh, “Yeah, we know.” Both of them were more than bummed, but Fallon felt worse for Stiles than she did herself. She’s gotten to play first line since she was a freshman. Scott also got a free ticket to first line due to the bite, but Stiles had to work his butt off to get to this point. She might love to read him for his lack of hand-eye coordination, but Stiles practiced pretty much every day up until all of this werewolf business started happening. It's sad watching him give up so much.

“And neither of you told him about his mom either.”

“And we’re not going to,” Fallon shakes her head. “Not until we find out the truth. Because I know Melissa would never do that. She couldn’t have. She’s not in the know about any of this. Hell, for a while, she didn’t even know about Allison, let alone her phone number.”

“Plus, last week, I saw her struggle to change the channel on the TV in the living room. Which she’s had for almost three years. Not exactly tech savvy enough to send a message from Scott’s phone through a computer,” Stiles adds.

Derek nods his head along with their words. “By the way, one more thing…” Stiles turns to look at the man but immediately regrets it as Derek takes the back of his head, harshly slamming his face into the steering wheel.

Fallon jumps as Stiles groans in pain, clutching his face. “Derek!” The girl screams, reaching up to slap his shoulder. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Oh God!” Stiles rubs his forehead which is now throbbing. “What the hell was–”

Derek cuts him off with a stiff point from his finger, “You know what that was for! Now go!” He gestures towards the doors of the care facility. “Both of you.”

Fallon rolls her eyes at his bossiness, pulling out her ”volunteer” ID. She’s starting to feel like maybe this was the only reason she was needed for Derek’s plan. Easy access into the hospital.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Stiles stays closely behind Fallon who leads them through the hallways of the hospital. The brunette girl has her phone pressed to her ear, talking to Derek who is telling them what to do as they go. Her confusion is growing more and more as she notices the odd abandonment of this branch. There should be more nurses walking around. She’s been in this unit before, even helped some paralyzed patients with physical therapy. Despite their terrible circumstances, the patients here are usually pretty Iively. This is one of her favorite parts of the hospital to do rounds in, so it’s concerning to see it so empty.

“Derek there’s no one here,” Fallon tells him. “We can’t find one nurse, let alone whoever you’re talking about.”

“Look, just ask for Jennifer,” Derek instructs strictly. “She’s been looking after my uncle.”

“Who even is your uncle?” Fallon questions. “Maybe I’ve checked in on him at some point.”

“No,” Derek denies. “They’ve only ever allowed Jennifer to work with him. That’s why you need to find her.”

Fallon trudges exasperatedly over to the room number Derek tells her. Stiles tries to listen in on the conversation so she decides to put the call on speaker. Once they arrive at the room they’re met with nothing. His bed is empty and freshly made, no one is occupying the wheelchair, nothing. It’s almost as if he disappeared into thin air, which isn’t exactly common for a comatose burn victim.

“Derek, he’s not here,” Fallon voices. “Like nowhere to be found. This room looks like it’s prepped to bring in a new patient, not like it’s been lived in.”

“What?” Derek asks, completely befuddled.

“He’s not here,” she enunciates. “It doesn’t look like he ever was. There’s no trace of anyone.”

There was a moment of silence, making both Stoles and Fallon grow increasingly more anxious. The tension becomes almost too much to handle until Derek bursts out into a yell, “Fallon, get out of there right now!” He screams. “It’s him! He’s the Alpha! You both need to get out!”

Fallon’s blood runs cold. She stumbles backwards, trying to push her and Stiles out of the abandoned room. The exit. That’s all that runs through her mind. Stiles catches her before she trips over her own feet. They both breath heavily as she grabs his hand, getting ready to bolt for the doors. But before they could even make a full turn, they are met with a looming figure. Derek’s uncle, Peter. The Alpha. He stands tall above them, a long trench coat covering his form. She wants to run away, scream even, the same feeling from the video store coming back. Especially when that smirk comes across his face. The same one she saw when he touched her with his claws. Her heart stops.

She’s absolutely terrified. This man could kill her without even thinking twice about it. But she knows she would throw herself into a pit of fire if it meant protecting Stiles. She takes a small step forward, pushing the boy behind her protectively. Peter looks almost amused by her action.

He smiles sinisterly, “You must be Fallon and Stiles.” The brunette girl couldn’t help but sympathize at the burns on the side of his face. They’re red, swollen, and discolored. No doubt one of the most painful injuries anyone could receive. She knows it’s wrong to feel even slightly and for the man as he’s killed so many people as well as having turned Scott, but after being wronged this way. Perhaps it’s not completely unjustified.

Fallon grips Stiles’ hand tighter. She tries to even her breathing as she spins them around to run in the other direction, but they are met with the angry scowl of who they could only assume was Peter’s nurse, Jennifer. Of course, now they find her.

“What are you doing here?” She interrogates aggressively. “Visiting hours are over.”

Fallon drops her phone to the ground, not even cringing when the screen falls face down. She clenches her fists tightly, getting ready to beat the living daylights out of the woman in front of them. Until Stiles decides that now is the perfect time to have an existential crisis. Or epiphany, whichever one he’d like to classify it as.

He points to Jennifer with a slack jaw, “You…” He gasps loudly before looking back at Peter. “And him… You're-you're the one who-- Oh, my-- and he's-- Oh, my God, we’re gonna die.” He looks like he’s going to cry, just without the tears. “We’re gonna die,” he mumbles again.

Fallon feels a sudden surge of bravery. She turns her head towards Peter, nose flaring with anger. He has been non stop terrorizing her. Her thoughts plagued with the memory of him invading her space the way that he did. “That night at the video store… you sniffed me. You touched me. Why? Why didn’t you just kill me when you had the chance?”

Peter’s smirk deepened as he looked at Fallon. "There’s something different about you... something worth keeping around.” A dark gleam appears in his eyes, “Why waste such potential, such… power, when it’s staring me right in the face?” Her confusion and fear makes him glow, “You’ll understand soon enough.”

Fallon felt as if every part of her had been violated simply by his words. He thinks she has potential. Why would he want to keep her around? He does have a plan for her, something she doesn’t and would never want to be a part of. Before she could say or process anything else, a loud crack is heard as Derek smoothly slides into the hallway. He elbows Jennifer in the face, causing the red head to fall to the linoleum floor, hitting her head and knocking her out cold.

Peter cocks his head to the side with a faux frown, “That’s not nice,” he feigns offense. “She’s my nurse.”

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people,” Derek corrects, getting ready for a fight. “Get out of the way,” he orders the two teens.

Stiles looks like he’s about to pass out as he glances between the two werewolves. Fallon’s eyes meet Derek’s and she feels the urge to fight with him, to tell him that they can help, but the pointed look he gives her makes her surrender that foolish notion. She grabs Stiles’ arm and pulls them down to the floor, crawling out of the way of the upcoming brawl.

“You think I killed Laura on purpose?” Peter stalks closer to Derek, ignoring the teens who are pushing themselves against the wall below. “One of my own family?”

Derek roars loudly, his eyes shifting to their bright shade of blue. This probably isn’t the family reunion either of them were expecting. The brunette pushes Stiles further down the hall as she watches Derek bounce off the wall to tackle Peter. The Alpha grabs his nephew by the collar of his jacket, throwing him directly into the wall next to Stiles and Fallon.

“Shit!” The girl screams, rolling over in the other direction.

Paint and drywall crumble off the spot of impact. She and Stiles run the other way, trying not to get caught in the crossfire. Fallon watches Derek with worried eyes, but he doesn’t falter in the slightest from the rough impact. Despite the wall now having a Derek sized dent in it, the man himself appears fine.

Fallon flinches as Stiles yanks her away from the unconscious nurse. Peter reaches down, grabbing Derek by the neck as he drags him down the hallway. She wants to help in some way, but Derek specifically told them to get out of the way.

“My mind, my personality, we’re literally burned out of me,” Peter monologues dramatically. “I was being driven by pure instinct.” He drops Derek’s body on the floor with a loud thud before reaching over to his nurse and taking her keys.

Derek grunts, forcing himself to stand after being manhandled. “You want forgiveness?” He asks breathily before cocking his fist back and slamming it into Peter’s jaw. Fallon flinches from the contact, Peter’s head jerking in the other direction.

Peter takes the opportunity to grab Derek by the collar again, head butting him with an excessive amount of force. “I want understanding,” he answers.

He lifts his leg up, connecting it with Derek’s chest as he sends the man flying across the hallway. Fallon jumps out of the way, pulling Stiles behind her. “We need to get out of here,” she whispers urgently. Stiles nods in agreement, the two of them rounding the corner to head towards the doors. They can hear Peter in the distance.

Peter menacingly tilts his head towards his nephew, “Do you have any idea what it was like for me during those years?” Derek spits out blood onto the floor, using his arms to push himself off of the floor. “Slowly healing, cell by cell. Even more slowly coming back to consciousness.”

Fallon bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to imagine how hurt Derek is. Flashes of his brutally beat up body from the night at the school enter her mind, but Stiles manages to keep her grounded as they try to find the best escape route.

“Yes, becoming an Alpha, taking that from Laura pushed me over a plateau in the healing process. I can't help that.” Derek stands up, swinging at Peter who dodges his punches with scary precision. “I tried to tell you what was happening. I tried to warn you.”

The moment Stiles and Fallon rush out of the exit door, they hear the loud sound of glass shattering. The brunette hesitates, but is pulled forward by Stiles. She looks back with only enough time to see Derek crawling away from Peter, the older man getting ready to abuse his nephew’s body again. She ignores the grunts and sounds of colliding fists, not knowing who is winning at this point.

And truthfully, she doesn’t want to know.

*ೃ༄ tags˚◞♡ ⃗

@iamaslytherin0 @famousrunaway1329

[ingravinoveritas]

So came I came across this repost from Al that a fan posted yesterday to which she reposted and to have her say and ad I much I can see she trying to defend ms with the radio getting his name wrong it a common thing for poor ms and I don't think this personally was the guys fault and I think they was reading from a script which I think most radio presenters have I think.

But the thing I noticed also was yes she was trying to defend her parter but also seems complaining that she and the children have to endure listening to the station in the car all the time and that like a another red flag like they literally have nothing in common and I'm still wondering why they still together. Cos I've noticed since michael been London he seems alot happier and heathly cos he closer to his best friend and beaming also. Can we have him stay permanently in London and not go bk to Wales in May.

What ur thoughts on this repost for Al I would to hear

(Grouping these together for ease of answering.)

I had this sent to me a little while ago and I'm...well, it takes a lot to floor me these days, especially in this fandom, but...I think this did it. Because there is so much going on here, and almost none of it is good.

On the surface, I know this very much looks like AL defending Michael, but I do not think that's what this was about at all. I think she saw BBC Radio 6 tagged in the original tweet and saw an opportunity to gain attention due to the proximity of a high-profile account. The way she did it, however, was by making something related to Michael about her. Again. And again, the wording of this retweet takes it from AL defending him to something else entirely.

Saying that she has to "endure" Michael listening to this radio show in the car is just a terrible look, as if listening to something he enjoys is so unbearably awful, and that she only puts up with because she's stuck in a car with him. It feels like she's literally complaining about Michael under the pretense of defending him, and I don't know how she (or anyone else) thinks this is okay.

The thing is, the whole "Martin Sheen" thing has become a running joke precisely because Michael has been dealing with this not just for his whole career, but his entire life. It's something he has frequently talked about, and I can imagine that it has been challenging on so many levels, but Michael also knows that Martin Sheen has been in the business for 60 years, and more than that, he is also a fan of Martin's. He's even talked about being introduced to him at a party years ago (I can't remember by whom, but Michael described the person as saying "Mr. President, meet Mr. Prime Minister"--referring to Martin and Michael's roles in The West Wing and The Queen, respectively).

So yes, the overarching point is that Michael doesn't blame Martin Sheen for these repeated mix-ups, and actually respects him as an actor and person. And when he has felt annoyed about this happening (as he did in 2020 when an ITV announcer called him the wrong name prior to a new episode of Quiz), Michael has had no problem calling it out himself on his own social media. Which speaks to your point @thetardisisblueandroseistoo about her trying to speak on Michael's behalf, and again doing a miserable job of it.

Also, what Michael hasn't done--and I suspect would be horrified at Anna doing--is go after the hosts of a show that he just appeared on yesterday. Particularly a show with hosts he is a tremendous fan of, as he spent a good portion of his appearance gushing about them and how much he enjoys listening to the show. I think he would more than understand the one host making this mistake--given his age and how much more embedded Martin Sheen is in pop culture--and would certainly exercise a lot more graciousness than to write a nasty tweet like the one AL did above.

That's the best way I can describe it: Shades of what we saw in the Insta story from last week, with that same self-aggrandizing, passive-aggressive (and now also kind of bitter) tone. There are a hundred other ways she could have responded to this, yet what she chose was to get in a dig at Michael, plus QT a fan tweet so that it could be misconstrued as her yelling at the fan. And again, in the cases where Michael has called out announcers or others for getting his name wrong, it's because he felt he deserved to have his name said correctly. In this case, however, it seems that AL wants the presenter to get Michael's name right because not doing so is an inconvenience to her.

Those were my impressions of AL's tweet, at any rate. All I can say is that from my perspective, if this was her attempting to defend Michael, it could not have been more backhanded. Glad to hear from my followers as well about your thoughts on this. Thanks for writing in! x

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 1.7K~ Summary: In which Steven opens up to Peridot a little about his anxieties surrounding his recent “pink episodes.” Peridot thinks she can help him determine the root cause of this problem, but Steven— marooned amidst age-old insecurities and his fears of hurting those he loves— still isn’t convinced he wants anyone’s help.

Finished up a lil' short fic I've had the dialogue sketched out for since 2020.

Enjoy, folks!

__

“So, have you always glowed pink in your sleep like that…?” Peridot asks out of nowhere later that morning, pulling his attention away from the sordid, pulpy mess of a Great Northern teen drama playing on the television set.

Thoroughly thrown off by this query, Steven serves her an awkward half-laugh, scratching at the wispy hairs at the nape of his neck. “Erm, I—”

“Because I don’t remember it happening on any of those nights you used to spend with us at the barn. And as a Gem, my memory should be perfect.”

“Nah, you’re right,” he says with a bit of a weary sigh. “This is new. I, uh- I don’t really know why it’s happening. In fact…” Inhaling deep, he tries to ignore the tittering background distraction of TV characters Jazmin and Rodrigo’s latest stupid conflict as he considers how best to describe his latest predicament. This isn’t exactly a conversation that’s well suited as an aside while watching a show, but he doesn’t want to make a huge deal out of it. “To be honest, it’s kinda become a bit of a problem, lately.”

She tilts her head. “A problem? In what way?”

“Um, I— I can’t exactly control it,” he admits. “Whenever I turn pink, I’m faster, I’m stronger, but… I don’t like the way it makes me feel. I don’t like the thought of even carrying this kind of strength. And unlike all my other powers, I don’t have a single clue what emotion triggers it or why it’s happening in the first place.”

He nibbles at the inside of his lower lip, considering this quandary. Everything about his powers has felt… different, since that encounter with Jasper in the woods a few months back. More unmanageable. More… volatile. For a time he assumed that life was done throwing him new extensions to his hybrid ability, but with every unimaginable feat he’s achieved lately— the capacity to hurl another Gem miles into the sky… a sprint so fast the surrounding world slows to a screeching halt around him… a scream so potent it can shatter the floor, leaving nothing but a wide crater in its wake— it becomes more and more clear that the diamond at his core has only just begun to reveal the true magnitude of its potential energy. 

And stars, that terrifies him. 

He’s not used to holding his power back, he’s not used to such a lack of control. He may have spent his entire childhood fighting to hone these abilities he inherited into something useful, yes, but he didn’t want this.

Peridot hums thoughtfully, her fingers perched upon her chin. “Well, maybe we can figure that out!”

His brow creases inwards. “Huh-? What are you—”

“Like you just said, all your other powers are modulated by your emotions,” she points out, throwing her arms into a casual shrug. “I’m incredibly knowledgeable about the composition and development of Gems, and you know about all the human feelings stuff! Your problem with this ability is clearly built upon the complex interactions between your Gem and organic makeup, so the most logical choice would be to build an experiment out of it. I bring the necessary genius and my tech,” she says with a beaming grin, her excitement growing more palpable with each and every word, “and you bring your experience! I’m sure if we work together we can learn something about this new power of yours.”

“I-I…” he stammers, shoulders seizing tight as the fullest intent of her idea finally washes over him. “No!”

Her face plummets in an instant, his blunt dismissal stripping the winds of enthusiasm right out of her sails.

“O-oh. I just thought… since you helped me try to fix CPH,” she gestures towards today’s entertainment of choice, still running, “maybe I could sorta… return the favor for you?”

Heart hammering in his ribcage, Steven grinds his fingers into fists at his side. 

“I don’t need to be fixed!” he insists, almost feeling sick to his stomach as that damned glowing pallor rises under his cheeks again anyways, a rote betrayal of all his futile claims. “Didn’t we just decide that’s the whole point of us hanging out now? That we don’t have to fix anything anymore?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“I’m fine, okay?” he snaps. “Really. I’m fine. I don’t need your help!”

Interrupting their long-forgotten entertainment, the television turns to static.

He gasps, tension wresting command of his every limb as he slams his hands over his mouth, wracked with embarrassment. H-he… oh geeze, he did it again, didn’t he? He raised his voice. He lost control, he snapped to pink. His breath hastens, rising to match the hurried, erratic tempo of all the excess energy currently surging through his hard-light veins like an untempered wildfire. 

“Steven—?” Peridot utters, her features twisting with undeserved concern. 

The white noise all but dominates his mind. Eyes growing glassy, his scattered perception hones in on the subtle threads of a second emotion evident within the Gem’s worried gaze, an emotion that strips the air straight from his lungs and makes him literally want to scream in his regret:  

Apprehension. 

Fear.

Considering all the horrid mistakes he’s made these past few weeks (graduation… his cactus… the mess he made of the Reef…), his lip trembles at the mere notion. 

His own friend, afraid of him.

Gosh, he could’ve… he almost—

“I-I…” he stammers, scrambling to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Head buzzing with the oppressive specter of all manners of horrid what-ifs, he books it down the stairs and barricades himself inside the bathroom. Quivering hands fumble to lock the door. H-he… he just… he just needs to be alone when he gets like this, all tense and pink, every last sense locked on overdrive, his neural pathways swirling with a sense of terminal dread… his chest rising and falling so fast and heavy that there’s nothing else he can do— no quick salve to this panicked predicament— but sink to the floor like the shambling disaster he is and ride this wave out. It’s the only option he’s got. It’s the only way he can make this nauseating pallor recede back into the branching channels of the damned gem it came from. It’s the only thing he’s bodily capable of doing to guarantee he won’t unintentionally hurt someone like his own mother did.

(He’s assailed by an abrasive, neon pink as his shoulders scrunch inwards, all but powerless to stop that infernal barrier as it pinches ever smaller… his friends calling out, pleading for his help—)

Like he nearly did, too.

Slowly but surely… step by harrowing step… he’s almost beginning to grow afraid of himself.

A timid knock at the door blessedly interrupts his spiraling ruminations. Draws all that volatile energy back to his core as he breathes real slow, in and out, that eerie glow dissipating entirely.

It’s Peridot. 

Because of course it is. 

Because she’s too good a friend to not check up on him, even after such an unprompted expression of rudeness. 

“Just a minute,” he says with a bit of a crack in his voice, dragging himself back up to his feet and crossing to the sink to wash his hands as if to naïvely delude himself (and her, really— but he doubts there’s a single universe that exists where she’s gullible enough to fall for such a petty deceit) that he came here to use the restroom instead of the far more pathetic reality.

And sure enough, when he pushes the door open and shuffles out into the living area, her normally affable and carefree expression is streaked with palpable worry. Well, shucks. So much for attempting to downplay his embarrassing little freak out.

Sighing heavy, he gives up the chase. 

“I’m so, so sorry for yelling at you. That wasn’t very kind of me, you were only trying to help. I just—” he pauses to dab away a stray tear threatening to leak from the very corner of his eyes— “gosh, I really don’t wanna feel like I’m burdening you with all of my personal nonsense.”

She frowns as she gazes up at him, shaking her head in blunt disagreement. “I don’t think you’re a burden.”

Steven shoves his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, his glance skirting away. “Thanks for the assurance, but… right now, it’s really hard for me to believe tha—”

Before he can so much as finish his sentence, his friend surges forwards. He genuinely can’t help the shaky little inhale he makes as her arms wrap tight around his torso, digits sinking in to the fabric of his shirt and her cheek pressed flush against his chest. 

“Steven?” she begins with a dash of timidity, her voice a bit muffled in the throes of their gentle embrace. “It’s okay if you’re not okay. Sometimes… I’m not okay either.”

“Peridot, I-I didn’t—”

“Even now, I… I’m still really insecure about my status as an Era 2 Gem,” she continues, the lingering ache of this admission more than evident within the subtle warble of her tone. “About my diminished height, mostly. And my lack of certain standard abilities. But now, I have so many friends to help me through those feelings. And so do you!” she blurts out before he can even dare to protest otherwise. “Y’know—? I… I’m sorry for pushing the matter earlier. If you’re not ready to talk about any of this, I understand. But if you ever are ready… I’m here.”

Steven exhales slow and shakily, forcing himself to glide past all those skewed, battered mental instincts— instincts that are screaming for him to reject her offered affections and simply bolt away— to sink into her offered hug. His own grip tightens around her petite form. He clears his throat, pushing past all those nauseating layers of shame to express his actual feelings. 

Daring to be brave. Daring to assert some of his genuine desires for once in his life, even if the only desires he can attach concrete meaning to at the moment are just an appeal for distraction, a craving for nothing but tiny, frivolous morsels of entertainment:

“Do you… maybe wanna finish that episode with me before you head back to Little Homeworld?”

“Hah!” she barks with laughter, her features lighting up like a bulb again. “You think you have to ask? Of course I still wanna watch more CPH! Go, go, go, go, go!” she chants, shooing him back up the stairs with a fervent wave of her arms. “Rodrigo can’t make fun of himself!”

[igglemouse]

I spent the morning in the shower full of despair and pain. I hated this. It certainly wasn't fair but the worst part about it is I could not do anything about it. I just had to accept it, accept that I'll never properly be part of the magical community and where did that leave me? Nowhere. Nowhere at all.

But the day must roll on. It sucks that I won't ever be able to practice magic in the realm, that my potential will always be stunted and blocked, but perhaps that is just fate?

Yes, I've tried to learn as much as I can on my own and I'm not sure if I've learned a single spell. It is difficult.

One of the few things passed down to me is my mother's witchy pot, an object I'll always cherish because it is a reminder of what I am or rather what I'm supposed to be...and yet, for me, it's nothing but a pot. I stare down at it, demanding answers that never come, and only receiving a few bubbles and steam.

That's all it is for me, a boiling pot of water. Nothing else, nothing more.

And so I fall right back into collecting. Finding a simple kind of joy from plucking a mushroom from its place or cracking a rock open hoping to find some bit of fortune because the only thing better than magic is simoleons. Would you rather be rich or a spellcaster? falls

But unfortunately for me (as usual) the jewelry I make is not likely to get much. Enough to pay the rent and keep my single belly full but not much more. I still hold out hope that one day, hopefully soon, that maybe I can bring in more simoleons through this little hobby of mines but who knows with my luck.

With dawn comes new energy to collect. This time flowers, herbs, more things that grow in the ground and more importantly things that grow outside of Cyril's castle...

And since I'm over here for a mission, other than collecting, I stay around until the rise of a full moon. Suddenly feeling once again a pull to the castle, that stony building that housed an unwelcoming vampire or two.

Feeling the urge to explore and feeling a pull from the castle I make my way to its entrance...

This time I do not get too far without Lilja being there to greet me, an expectant smile on her lips.

"Be careful of the path you are on," the warning in her voice is plain and clear but seeing her under better lighting makes me wonder about her age? A vampire can live forever, as long as they aren't murdered, basically, so she could be anywhere from 20 to 2000 years old. The thought is kind of terrifying. What does one do with all of that wisdom?

Any ways, I shake my head and give her the most careless shrug I can. "I'm tired of others choosing my path for me."

She gives me a sort of dubious look before the addition of a curt nod. Turning her back to guide me deeper inside once again. "Come then."

While I couldn't possibly guess the age of Lilja I did have better assumptions about the house. On the outside it showed its age, the stones crumbling, cracked, and almost looking as if any moment it might collapse in on itself but the fact that it was still standing told a story of resilience.

Inside told a different story, one of luxury and old simoleons and perhaps a group of vampires or sims that called this place home?

"I know why you are here," Lilja starts, finding a seat and offering me a place next to her as she took me in.

It was then that I realized that Lilja had the look of a prisoner and not a resident or even a guest. There was something about her eyes, a silent plea in them, that suggested that maybe she wasn't here on her own terms? Maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm just a little paranoid because at any moment Cyril could pop up and then...then what? Last time I met him everything happened so fast and then I woke up in the middle of her floor and-

"You wish to be turned," Lilja assumed.

"No, not quite that just..." well, it was partly true. The Realm had denied me my magic but the magic of vampirism could be given for free. No, not for free, but close to free? Was it even possible, with the ward that protects me? "My mother practiced blood magic-"

"Yes...yes she did," the smile then on her lips was warm and welcomed this topic. "A dangerous but powerful magic, one you are willing to learn? My Maker would be willing to teach you, for a price I presume, but it is something he will have to consider when he's in a better condition. Your little attack on him has...sidelined him, I'm afraid to admit."

"Yes," I reply although I was a little confused. Wasn't he the one who attacked me? I remember a bit of of that night and of him, enough of him at least. There was something missing to him, he looked skeletal, dead, and his eyes were a white void of...well, nothing. That's sort of what a void is, isn't it? I made to scream and soon felt bony hard fingers dig into my muscles and felt his lips against my neck and then..."Yes, of course, when he's in better condition."

"It gives you some time to decide if this is indeed the path you wish to take. A dangerous course as blood magic requires sacrifice, from its user and from others," Lilja's manner of speech was so without soul at this moment that I wondered if she were a robot but I soon realized why. Her eyes, gray and searching, were locked onto my neck. She stared at it for a little too long, perhaps even licked her lips or maybe I imagined that part but if I were not protected by a ward I have a feeling I'd be her next meal.

"I'll think about it-"

"There are other things to consider but when and if the time comes."

With that she escorts me to the door, more amiable than moments before. "I believe I've had a moment of weakness," she jokes, tossing aside the fact that she was definitely imagining tearing into my neck. "Do think on it and I would not return unless your answer is yes...a ward is much like a door, from what I understand. Eventually, if someone bangs enough on it, it falls."

Yeah, I guess I'll give it some thought...

Episode List - Next Episode ' Frenemies'

[disaster-j]

Let us make one thing very clear

Eddie is NOT OKAY with Gerard's bs behaviour

I don't need to watch the episode to know that's not what this is about. I've been with this character for six seasons I have followed him through quite a harrowing journey for six years of his life. I know the kind of person Eddie Diaz is and if you've watched this show you should too.

Eddie would never be OKAY with anything Gerard says or does. But Eddie spent most of his life struggling under his parents' expectations and Eddie has an army background and Eddie has been shown to be someone who is not comfortable with going against authority figures. It's part of why his argument with Bobby in s5 was so impactful and made it so clear that he was acting off. Because Eddie Diaz, as much as he is a fighter in his personal life, is a follower in the workspace.

On top of that, unlike Buck who is new to belonging to a minority and hasn't had to ever face bigotry targeted towards him, Eddie grew up with the last name Diaz in small-town Texas. He's very well acquainted with bigotry and has a better understanding of when fighting back works and when it will just blow up in your own face.

We saw in Hen Begins that while Hen fighting back was important to inspire the others to also fight back against Gerard, it wasn't until Chim, Sal and Tommy sent in complaints that they were able to make any kind of progress on the official front. In a situation like this it goes beyond just strength in numbers. You cannot fight it out alone without fucking up your own career. Take it from a queer woman working in a problematic environment in a patriarchal country, it's much easier to lose your job for standing up for yourself than it is to keep your head down and try to just get through the day.

And Gerard? Has the full support of a politician with a personal grudge. Think about it. What is Buck really gonna accomplish by yelling it out with Gerard on the fire station floor? Is it gonna help the situation or make everything that much worse for himself and possibly the others too? Is there perhaps a better way to deal with Gerard that doesn't risk losing their jobs which requires keeping your head down around the guy?

Bc trust me, if I hated my boss and wanted him out. I would not give him a reason to suspect me when he still has power over me. It's what Chim, Sal and Tommy did and it saved Hen's career and contributed to Gerard getting kicked tf out.

My point being. Yes it's good to stand up for what's right. But sometimes it's necessary to keep your head down and not get into useless arguments with someone who is not only incapable of understanding anyone's perspective other than their own but will also gladly ruin your life and career just bc he felt mildy provoked by your existence.

[sasspleia]

I’m an introvert. I got your attention with that. No? Well how about I talk about how I got into shipping? I fell in love with Polin and Bridgerton. And to me the best part of Bridgerton is seeing the love stories and how the evolve over time. Blah blah blah right? I will get back to this and make my point in a minute.

I have read just Romancing Mr. Bridgerton, it was years ago mind you. I was skeptical at first when I heard that the books were going to be turned into a TV show. I usually dislike the tv/movie versions of shows.

I refused to watch the first season when it came out and refused to watch the second. It’s not that I disliked the actors or even the plot…. I didn’t have Netflix. (I know right?!) I didn’t want to spend money on just the one show because I liked how Julia Quinn wrote and like I mentioned above I usually feel disappointed and dissatisfied with the on screen versions.

Now back to my point. I’m an introvert and like most people during our “Covid Times” downloaded TikTok. This is how I was introduced to Season 3 and the interviews that Nic and Luke did and was hooked by their chemistry…. You might say that I was floored that they seemed to genuinely and truly be in love and cared deeply for one another (whether it was just friendship or more).

I was so intrigued that I spent money and purchased Netflix. Yes, you read that correctly. I.SPENT. MONEY. No it was not a lot of money, but for me it was a huge decision (I am trying to control what I spend…. Haha oops as I buy Season 3 merch).

I watched as many WT interviews and saw all the Polin/Lukola edits and it made my introverted heart just quicken. I’d love to say that very day I watched all of Season 1 and 2 as I wanted to know the backgrounds of the two characters. However, as you may have figured out that is very not possible to watch them all back to back…. 16 episodes at an hour a piece (I do have a day job ya know). It took some days and weekends but I watched both seasons so that as soon as Part 1 and Part 2 of Season 3 dropped I could consume it.

Getting back to my point. In the first two seasons we were introduced to two characters, watching these two characters grow up right before our eyes and seeing their relationship grow…. Well it took great actors and solidified the fact that I was enamored. I wanted that onscreen romance and the feeling of yearning. To see that connection that they portrayed was just genius acting…. Or was it?

That connection that two actors have, it’s not common . Sometimes it’s just surface level, but with Nic and Luke you could tell it went deeper. Like Bestfriends (and maybe more)… Time will tell but I will say this as I end all this rambling. I can not wait to see Season 4 and anything else that these two great actors produce.

I am a true Polin/Lukola fan. What can I say, they won me over with their on screen and off screen chemistry.

Dear Shondand…. A Polin Spin Off please?!

Xx 🧡

[bengiyo]

23.5 Ep 9 Stray Thoughts

Last week, the gang went to the school to watch a meteor shower together with the understanding of the romance overtones involved. Ongsa spent most of the episode flubbing making a move on Sun, but they ended up getting a decent kiss under the stars. Aylin remains one of the best characters in romance because she didn’t need any cajoling to ask Luna to watch the meteor shower with her nor to confess her feelings. Mawin came so close to properly asking Tinh out, but got too nervous. Ton was rejected by Chaoren, and ended up giving me crumbs with Mawin (Euro can still win, guys). My teacher yuri dreams continued to burn bright.

Laying on the floor like this doesn’t exactly look comfortable, but is the kind of silliness I’ve walked in on lesbians doing before.

NAME OF THE SHOW MENTIONED. FINISH YOUR DRINKS.

Yes, tell the people about Theia. It’s a cool bit of planetary history.

Latte looks so hot in every scene. Please put this dog in the A/C.

Wow we’re getting right to a potential separation, thought a study abroad summer program doesn’t sound like it’s years-long.

Episode 9: When the Earth Tilts

Aylin trying to be more social with her family is actually quite adorable.

Oh good. We’re teaching Ongsa how to ride a bicycle first.

Thank you, Luna, for always keeping things clear with Aylin. These four are really fun together. Sun is so consistent about this not-hiding approach.

Not my favorite big boy feeling like he’s gotta lose a ton of weight to be appealing. Gay body issues start so young.

I feel for Alpha. She’s the oldest and her sister and cousin are going through things without telling her anything.

I hope the teacher hit Alpha with a Mama Sandwich. I haven’t seen one in years since The Fosters ended.

What is up with all these girls just running away from home?

American fried rice? I suddenly feel embarrassed.

I kinda wish we’d spent more time with Alpha before all of this.

I feel positively about Luna helping Aylin have more social connections with the people in her life.

Get his ass, Aylin! Ton should learn to read when people don’t want to be bothered with his shit.

Did they want to do the Alpha plot earlier to make this scene with Sun land?

Okay, the towel drop was a nice touch. As with everything with the mains, I don’t think we got here smoothly, but I enjoyed the moment.

This show is so awkward. I’m not sure what’s going on and why it feels so off every week. I like individual moments but I have a hard time reflecting on this show and remembering things that occurred in the order in which they happened.

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 26

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 4.1k

IMPORTANT a/n: Hi... I said that if the Celtics won I'd post tonight so ya know! Here it is hehe. LETS GO CELTICS

Finally used the scene in Season 1 episode 5 of Narcos of Javi and Murphy in the car. There's a lot of perspective change in this one, this section will be like this most the time just because are characters are so far apart!

Ok bye enjoy

New Orleans 1988

“Do you remember being sixteen?”

You cackle, playing with the golden bee at your lobe, looking up at your student Chiron. He had been eating his lunch in your classroom for about two months since, the cafeterias ac is shit, his words. You dig into the cake your students bought you, they thought you would cancel their monday practice quiz with a little birthday celebration. They were greatly mistaken. 

Today you're twenty-four. Everytime you think of it your brain freezes.

 You remember being sixteen like it’s yesterday. You nod, washing down the store bought dry red velvety mess with water. “Yes. It sucked.”

Chiron laughs just the same, opening the pink milk box on his tray. “When were you sixteen? In 1950?”

You stare at him with your most deadpan look, shaking your head. “I turned sixteen in 1980. I was living in Laredo, Texas and I spent my birthday alone. I received flowers from my… friend and my mom took me dress shopping two days later. What was yours like?” 

You and Chiron talk every day. You know he lives in a group home, you know he gets excited when he gets asked about his own life and even more excited when someone shares stories about theirs. He reminds you everyday that you want to have a son one day, you guess you’ll tell him when he's older. Hopefully then you could introduce your son to him and have a laugh about it. 

Teaching has given you a purpose. Being away from home has given you a purpose. Knowing no one has given you a purpose. You tell him stories all the time, you’re going to sob when he walks across that stage in May. 

“I went to the arcade with Teresa.” Teresa has been his girlfriend since the ninth grade, she went to St. Mary’s. They met doing community service and Chiron knows that they're going to be married. “She bought me this chain with her paycheck from Rouses. Are you doing anything for your birthday?”

You look at the picture of your little sister and niece sat up on her desk. Little three year old Sol holding Frankies babygirl Annie. “I still don’t know anyone out here but my coworkers so I’ll probably order in, watch Dirty Dancing and wait for a call from my brother.” You think of Javier for a moment, wondering if he knows today's your birthday. 

You wonder if you have crossed his mind. 

You saw him in the paper when you went home for christmas, you didn't visit your mother. 

You went home to simply spoil the babies at Frankie's house. You drove right back to your third floor apartment in Nola. Cried into your pillow until you slept and did it all over again for three more nights. Chiron nods, you have told him small stories about your life because he loves to listen. You’re weary of sharing too much, only offering bits you know will make him feel seen. You let him cry when he said he tried to meet his father during Christmas break and he didn’t show. That's when you decided to tell him about your first trip to New Orleans. 

Chiron frowns and sips his milk. He just got a haircut, flat top style, he had been growing his hair out the whole year for it. “Do you think Javier will call you?”

You smile at Chiron. He had been trying to pry information about your former lover for weeks. It all started after Christmas break when he cried about his father. You told him that family can be found anywhere, that your only family for a bit was your best friend who happened to be your boyfriend. 

“Do you live with Javier now?”

You shook your head, “He moved away for work.” Nearly a lie, you didn’t feel it was appropriate to tell your seventeen year old student the painful details of your life. 

Chiron went quiet for a few seconds, his face going inward. Eyes shy and sad, it happens every time he’s asked about his parents.

“So who is your family now?”

Andrea drops her keys on her kitchen counter being greeted by tiny tweets. She grins from ear to ear, placing her purse down on the couch. Walking to her cage, the two birds chirped.

 “Are you singing Happy Birthday to me?” She gets on her tiptoes, offering her fingers to the babies, they take the chance. “Thank you, mommy’s going to watch Dirty Dancing because she’s lonely. Okay?”

She brings Jewel to her face in a phantom kiss while Harvey finds sanctuary on her shoulder. 

She always wanted pets but her mother never allowed it. The second Andrea put down her deposit for her apartment, she hopped in her car and bought two blue budgies. They nipped and scurried away from her each time she approached them but after two months of persistence they finally warmed up to her. They’re now her best friends. She’s become a crazy bird lady. Just in September she left a date abruptly because she realized she hadn't fed them in a day and a half. Its safe to say she didn’t get a call back from Mr. Henning.

She sits on her couch after loading the VHS and yawning. Her birdies flying back to their cage. 

That was the summer of 1963 - when everybody called me Baby, and it didn't occur to me to mind.

At 6pm she receives a call. Her heart sinks and for a moment she thinks, maybe.

But ultimately she knows not to be so silly, she knows she needs to be angry with him but she doesn’t have it in her anymore. She unravels herself from the nest she’s made on her couch and tip toes on the hardwood floor to her home phone. 

She spoke to Genie this morning, receiving a happy birthday song from her brother and their baby’s incoherent babbles. They say little Annie is upset that Tia Andrea lives so far. 

“Hello?” Andrea shushes her birds, they love to chirp when she’s on the phone. 

“Happy Birthday Andrea,”

 And she knows Don Chuchos voice anywhere. 

Andrea closes her eyes at the sound. She knew she couldn’t avoid him forever and she’s riddled with grief at the sound of his voice after nearly two years. 

“Thank you Chucho.” Andrea remembers the way he looked at her when she sat in the blistering heat on Javier’s wedding day. He looked at her knowingly, he could see that beyond the made up face she was on the brink of a breakdown. “How’s everything back home?” 

“You would know if you stopped by to see me last month.”

She winces. When Andrea came home for Christmas she made it her business to be seen by no one. Especially anyone who knew anything about Javi. 

She was finally feeling better. 

Everything was out in the open now, everyone knew their business. The scandal blew through town, she had to leave.

“I know, I'm sorry. I’m just still working through everything that happened. I knew if I stopped by your house it would bring up old memories.” Since Andrea moved to New Orleans she has gone back to Laredo five times. Two of the times she visited her mother, every other time was a straight shot to Frankie’s home. Calling him to make sure he takes Sol for the day so Andrea could see her too. She would spend two lovely nights on their plush couch and drive home the next day. 

Through the crackle of the receiver Chucho hums in understanding. 

In a twisted way Andrea always wanted him to be her father. She loved the idea of marrying Javier for more reasons than one. She wanted to officially be a part of his tiny family she loved so deeply. 

“Would this be a bad time to talk about him?” 

Andrea, the despondent girl. A girl alone, leaning against her lonely walls, a girl belonging to no one. Is a girl who cannot resist hearing about the one she loved. 

Loves. 

“Yes.” She allows it. He complies because she knows he must have no one to talk to about this. 

“He told me last week that he’s seeing a specialist—therapist, once a week.”

She smiles. She remembers the last time they had sex they talked about reaching out for help. She supposes it’s her turn. 

“That’s- I'm relieved to hear that. Is he doing okay out there?” 

Andrea has a reoccurring nightmare. She’s walking to work, the heat is brutal and her hands are full of groceries. In her nightmare, one of the bags rip open, fruit falling on the concrete. Every time, she follows an apple that rolls until it hits a news stand. And there—there she sees his face. There she reads his public obituary, the slain American agent. There she dissolves to nothing and wakes up crying harder than she ever has. She cried until she felt like dissolving into nothing. 

“He spares me details that would send me into a stroke but you know. It’s very dangerous work but he’ll make it back home in one piece. He’s too stubborn to die young.” 

Her eyes flicker to the ground and her chin quivers at his words. “Do you miss him?” Is all she can mutter. She cannot be alone in this feeling. She doesn’t like to feel this way. She liked to believe that she gets along without him well, but sometimes the wind blows and it reminds her of summer nights in his bed and she isn’t sure she could go on lying to herself.

Chucho sighs, “He misses you.” He doesn’t answer your question. He knows what you wanted to ask. “He doesn’t tell me because he’s afraid, but every conversation I can hear it in his voice. He is still grieving being away from you, still grieving being deceived. I know you are too. But I wanted to call to tell you that he is okay. I want you to be okay too, Andrea.”

January 1988 Bogota, Colombia

There isn't much work being done. Scoping out for a sicario in a hundred degree weather wasn't ideal but it left some time for beers and ramblings. Murphy dug his hand into the cup holder for another sip of Club Colombiano. “So what year was this?” Murphy looks over to Javi. It had been almost a week since he last saw Hertz. His next session is in two days. He found himself walking with less weight. He even finally told Murphy the name of the girl whose picture is taped on the corner of his desk.

“1986” Javier rasps. “I was driving to the church. I was with my buddy Frankie. He was my best man.” He nearly whispers the last bit. “We were late. It was fucking blazing, 110 degrees. The whole bridal party was there sweating their balls off I’m sure. Frankie is shaking like a leaf next to me, like he’s fucking getting married. Looking for a lighter for a joint he rolled. Mind you, we're been in my bride's car since she arrived in a limousine.”

“Don’t tell me you left her at the altar.”

Javier deadpans, “Let me finish my story.” Murphy chuckles, pressing the cold beer to his neck. “He opens the glove compartment and some papers fall into his lap. And boom, we hit a traffic jam. Frankie, my best man, being the nosy fuck he his opens up the papers. He goes, three months pregnant as of June 6th, can't believe we’re both having kids. I swear to god–”

“No!” Murphy gasps.

“Yeah, Lorraine, the bride, and I hadn’t had sex since February of that year. She was showing a lot, I never thought twice when she told me she was five months along.” Murphy is staring at him like this was the juiciest television worthy story ever told. Javier looks blankly into the rolling hills of Colombia wondering why this happened to him. “I had dropped everything in my life to rush into a loveless marriage for the convenience of a family that wasn't even mine.” His eyes cast low and he feels sick. “So I turned the car around. And Andrea was there waiting to watch me marry someone else. In the heat.”

Murphy rarely knew who Andrea was other than the pretty ex-girlfriend whose picture is taped on his desk; he didn’t tell him too much. The story is enticing, he supposes. Exhilarating from the outside.

Murphy grins, “Well, you saved her a lifetime of hell.” 

He knows it’s true, his inner monologue being spat right back in his face yet he can’t seem to swallow that reality. He's a weak man, he hoped that Murphy would tell him he was wrong, that he needed to get up on a plane this instant and find his girl.

He’s silent for a moment. “Yeah, she never spoke to me again, Andrea I mean. She’ll probably be married to a-a stock broker or some shit when I come home.” If I come home, he intends to say but decides maybe this wasn’t the moment. “Trust me, she’s better off.”

“I told my partner, Steve Murphy, about the wedding.”

“That's amazing, Javier.” She sits back down in her brown leather chair, sipping her tea from her small yellow thermo. “How did you feel afterward?” Javier went home to drink himself to sleep. He decides to keep that detail to himself, before reaching forward to sip water instead of fulfilling his urge to light up.

“I felt like I’ve taken some sort of step forward. Then I remembered how it was telling Andrea. Then I felt like I regressed once again, I didn't wake up for work the next morning. This Tuesday I mean.” She’s taking it all in, yet something i n her twinkles. He sees her satisfaction, she knows this is a shy way of telling her he’s ready to talk about it again. Things are changing for him so quickly.

“We were cut for time last week.”

“We were.”

“So,”

“So.” Javier's eyes jet to the plush rug below him. “I walked to her house the night I agreed to marry Lorraine.”

June 18th 1986

He stopped by The Tap before strolling his way into your neighborhood. Sitting on a barstool like he would do back in High School, eyes peeled to the door wondering if his mother would miraculously walk in. This time he doesn’t drink so much, he pushes three beers back and feels sad enough to see you. Sad enough to break your heart. Liquid courage? Is that what they call it? He feels a buzz in his spine.

Somehow he ends up at your door. 

 “Javi, are you alright? It's late.” You whisper, closing the front door behind you. It reminds him of the time he walked to your house after getting wasted. Catching you in Cabaret makeup, you turning bright red under white paint. 

This time you’re bare faced and so much more of a woman. Javier studies you in a buzzed haze, you’re concerned and it’s pissing him off. There you are, barefoot on your porch. Caught off guard and still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. You step down one step. He wants to drop to his knees and apologize. 

You sense his sorrow so you step back up to be near to his height, placing your hands on his face. Holding his face, “Baby, are you okay?” He knows your worried little face, he knows that somehow in that brain of yours—you’re conspiring what you could have done wrong. Yet it’s never you, it’s always him. You’ve never done wrong.

“Hey…” You whisper, attempting to soothe his quivering chin with a kiss. 

He looks away. Looking into your eyes will kill him. Rejecting your kiss all together. “I’m sorry.” Javier’s voice breaks, and he isn’t embarrassed but he wants to die. He wants it to end because he feels your body go cold without even having to look at you. He’s crying and hiding his face, holding you close and hard. Sobbing into your chest, staining your gray shirt like you did his when he left the first time. “I’m so sorry—I knew I wouldn’t be right for you—Querida, I’m sorry.”

----

He crushes your body with his. He’s muttering words about a wedding, a pregnancy and you’re being crushed. You’re losing air and you hope he squeezes you tighter, hope your eyes fog and you fall. 

Hope to wake up in a cold sweat, and it's all a bad dream. Hope to call him to hang out at the lake.  

He’s crying, and its the worst sound you’ve ever heard. Saying he didn’t mean to become a father. He doesn’t mean to hurt you. He doesn’t know why he hurts you. He says he doesn’t want to be married to her. Calling you sweet names and cursing his own. 

You tell him over and over that it’s okay. Yet you hope he crushes you until you disappear.

 “It’s okay—Javi please, it’s okay— I understand.” You run a hand through his hair and lower your bodies to sit on the steps. It’s 2 am. He’s drunk and unable to give you details without crying in your lap now but you know all that you need to know.

When you saw her—Lorraine. When you saw her wide nose and round little belly you felt fear running through your veins. And you slept with that panic, you dismissed it but your bones felt it. Your intuition told you that the two of you will never be the same. You saw him stare at her belly for a second too long and there—right there— you knew you were in the way of something. 

Eventually he feels okay enough to sit up straight. He still can’t look at you and you miss him in your lap when he does. You miss being able to hide yourself from him. You miss being able to shut your eyes in agony at each word of consolation. Now he can see you, even if he doesn’t look you in the eye he can see you. 

You’re able to understand that she’s five months, that they gave him a choice. To never see her and his child, child— his child— or get married. Through it all you tell him it’s okay. 

“I don’t think I have another choice— I can’t be.-“

“A deadbeat.” You finish for him and he doesn’t respond. The two of you have a million unspoken words between the two of you. 

Look at me, look at what happens when you abandon your child. Look what girls like me put up with. Look at me, you hurt me and I'm still thinking of ways to make it work in my broken little brain. 

He knows what his mother did, how could he ever? How? So you could never find it in you to be angry. 

“I’m sorry— I just can’t.” 

You shut your eyes and lean back into the steps of your home. The sky was bright that night, you couldn’t understand why the universe still presented its beauty during such a moment. 

“When will you get married?” You suppose maybe you like to hurt yourself. 

“They said two weeks.” 

You drop your head into your hands and let out a sob. Heart slamming against your ribs, drowning in it. You fear that you’ll become one with earth, a puddle seeping into the grass ahead of you. You feel his panic next to you. He’s whispering your name, and tearing against the back of your head. Your shoulders wrack and you try to speak.

But you decide silence is all you can handle.

So you stay like this for a few minutes.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” You ask finally, pathetically. 

And he’s quick to nod, “Yes—please.” His deep voice sends a vibration down your spine. And the two of you walk into your home, without fear—no room for such a silly feeling. 

He undresses and you do too. 

He faces the ceiling and you fear neither of you will catch any hours tonight. You still curl into his chest, for the last time. Feeling his warm tan skin below your ear. You count his heartbeats for minutes at a time. You count your own, attempting to make it stop on your own. Your stomach hurts so badly, you may cry just from that. But you think that you’re a twenty two year old woman who is somehow all cried out. You think of the sun coming up and him getting up to leave, you wonder what the next two weeks will look like. 

You’re sure that if you could you’d stay just like this, together and avoidant until it’s time. Just like you planned a week ago when your only fear was him leaving to Colombia. 

You know he’d do the same because the two of you love pain like no other. You stay in your inferno of a brain for nearly an hour. You know he can’t sleep. 

“What are we going to do?” He asks and you frown. 

“Go our separate ways.”

“I don’t want to.” He’s quick to respond, angry.

“I know.”

“Do you want to?”

“No. But I have to. You have to.” 

“As long as I know you, I'll want you, Andrea.”

You shut your eyes and breathe. You hope he forgets you. You hope you can. You suppose you have to try. 

“After the wedding, I don’t think I’ll ever want to speak to you again.”

You feel him intake a shaky breath. Your heart breaks again. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

His chest rises, “It’s okay. I understand.” You nod, the post of the earrings he bought you scraping his skin. “We probably shouldn’t see each other after today.” He admits and you know he’s right.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I could be a bridesmaid?” You attempt to joke and he doesn’t laugh. You can’t tell what he does but he shivers. 

“Not funny.” 

“I’m sorry.” You exhale. And there the two of you are pensive. Already missing each other. 

He sighs and it's silent once more. “I really love you.”

You sigh just the same and you love him more. You decide you couldn’t say it out loud this time.

Colombia 1988

His elbow is rested on the arm of the chair and his mouth is pressed to a fist. Eyes closed for a few moments. He thinks of the silence of that night, how he hasn't heard you say I love you since. The words that kept him going, but fuck it, he didn’t feel like he deserved it. He made their life such a mess, over and over again. Again his brain regresses to that of a child, of his own head when he was eleven, when he tore up his mothers room and stained her poetry with his tears. 

He has spent two years suffering, he knows there will be no winning. He lost you. He came here prematurely hoping to win in some way. To bring some good, save some people but he realized there's no winning here either. Just suffering and corruption. The longer he watches people die he swears his faith chips slowly with it.

So he looks over his shoulder once or twice when he leaves his session. There were very few words spoken by Dr. Hertz but what can you do when his story silences so many?

He wishes it could silence his own thoughts but instead it festers and crowds his brain in the most crucial moments. Like when he led a raid in a bar in Medellin and swore the woman who sat at the bar with a gun to her head was you. In genuine panic he freezes, the casualties raised from 24 to 25 at that moment. All because of you—him—all because of his thoughts of you, plaguing him.

And he thinks of you in the most insignificant moments. Insignificant like burying himself deep in the cunt of a woman who’s being paid. He thinks of you and can't keep it up from the guilt. What a curse it is to feel so deeply about someone. 

He remembers once, you lie beside him half asleep and mumbling like you did after sex. You said that sometimes love scares you so much that for a time you wished to never feel it. He thought of you so crazy, he fears he understands you now. 

[tayloralisonswift]

i saw your post from like 15 minutes ago and i wanted to ask, are you comfortable with people online asking about your experiences with bipolar/mental health in general? usually i'm too afraid to ask about sensitive subjects, but i guess if i ask then it's totally your choice whether or not to answer

and if you're comfortable, what is your current experience like? what info would you tell someone who wants to be a better friend to you?

rooting for you and sending love always <3

hi love! this is a VERY long post, apologies in advance and thank you for asking.

you said it perfectly, because yes i am comfortable answering questions (part of my post last night was encouraging it), but also if i'm ever not comfortable with a question i can choose not to answer. if asked kindly/in good faith, i don't see anything wrong with a person asking. it means a lot that someone cares enough to ask!

disclaimer: this is my experience with my bipolar. other people will have other experiences, and you can ask them!

so i have this fun form of bipolar called "rapid cycling", and i am currently cycling faster than my psychiatrist is used to seeing (i got a good grade in bipolar, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve.) rapid cycling involves undulating between states (you've got mania, depression, stasis/stability, and mixed states - which are what they sound like, a mixture of depressive and manic symptoms.) because i'm currently in the midst of med changes that won't take effect for at least another month, my mood disorder is pretty much on its own to fend for itself, and like i said, it's cycling quickly right now. usually, like in the past two years, i'll cycle like a month or two depressed, a week or two days stable, three to four weeks manic, repeat. right now it's like, three days of mania one week of depression three days of mania, repeat. this is very hard to manage because i have to try and take care of myself with very little preparation for dips or highs.

for me, depressive episodes look like physical exhaustion (i take multiple naps throughout the day and need to go back to bed within an hour or two of being awake), ruminating about self loathing, and i get this fog where like, it's hard to smile. and even if in my head i'm smiling it's hard to get it to happen on my face. (like the other night, my mom was doing silly dances to try to and make me smile and i just. couldn't do it for a solid 20 minutes.) when i'm very low, this happens on steroids and it's hard to move my body even as i'm yelling at it to in my head. i usually just lay on the floor most of those days.

my manic episodes look like spendingspendingspending. i won't give the amount, but when i told my new psychiatrist about the most i've ever spent in one week, she said, "that's mania if i've ever heard of it". (i got another good grade in having bipolar, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve!) mania also involves lots of fast movement. my body has to be moving at all times. even more so, my mouth has to be moving at all times. i talk very, very quickly, and very, very extensively. my family members have to warn me that i'm talking so fast they don't understand what i'm saying. but my thoughts are going at the speed of light so i gotta relay them that quickly. mania looks like lots of risky and self destructive behaviors - excessive drinking, smoking, risky sex - all of those can be mania. a manic episode is not just one 'bad' or impulsive decision, and it's not happy. i also decide i'm going to do a bunch of big huge things in a short amount of time - if i ever say "ok i'm FINALLY writing a poetry book and i'm doing it this week" honestly i'm manic.

a mixed episode is the most dangerous, and it's the one doctors are most concerned about, because you have the energy and motivation to do something and you have the depressive thoughts that tell you to do something bad. this is where ideation thrives. it's very scary to be in that.

and i want to emphasize that, for me at least, i can often figure out when i'm in one of these episodes. it takes work but most of us are self aware enough to recognize it. that doesn't make an episode less powerful, but we aren't infants who don't understand our disorder.

i think the most important thing you can do for a friend with bipolar is ask them about their experience and listen. everyone is different - this is just my experience, and really the only thing you'll find that sums up all of our experiences is the DSM5 (and even that can be lacking in nuance) - and everyone needs different things. right now, the depressive moments are much stronger than the other ones, and things like reassurance and reminders that people care really help me (like this ask!) when i'm manic, a loving "slow down" does help me.

i know this was super long but like i said last night, no one ever asks. so i really appreciate you asking and giving me the space to answer. <3 <3 <3 <3

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Matt Simmons x child daughter reader

I'm now on season 15 and I love it!

Summary: y/N Simmons is ill, so her Mum takes her to her work, while her Dad has work. When a hostage situation happens.

Literally watched this episode yesterday and I loved jt and got the idea for thus oneshit for Matt.

Third person pov...

When their youngest child woke up ill, Kristy and Matt knew one of them had to look after her, but both had work, Matt held their coughing daughter in his arms bouncing her and patting her back as she coughed.

Kritsty was getting her some water to drink, the 5 year old woke up with a bad cough. Matt continues to pat and hug his youngest child, "Daddy, I wanna go with Mummy" she rasps.

Matt smiled his daughter knew he was busy woth his work. "It's okay Honey, Mummy will be up soon" she said to her, all his children knew how busy his was at Work. As she continued coughing Matt checked his phone and almost curses he missed a call from Emily, he knew he was late to work by 15 minutes.

The Dad then maneuvered his youngest to hid other arm and held her up against his shoulder while his other turned on his phone and called Emily,

Y/N coughed again and Matt rubbe dher back Comforting her as she coughed his poor Baby. The little girl buried her face into hid shoulder needing the comfort from him.

His phone rang twice before Emily answered "Hey Matt, just was about you call you" she said before he got a word in, Y/N started crying just as he was about to answer, he put his phone between his shoulder and ear while comforting his crying daughter.

"Hey Emily, sorry I didn't realise the time, Y/N my youngest daughter woke up with a sore throat been comforting her, I will be in later Kristy can take her today" said Matt as his daughter calmed down and stopped crying.

Emily laughed "of course Matt see you later" she said before ending the call and Matt put his phone back in his pocket, he held Y/N close to his chest ans rubbed her backing, then Kristy walked in a sippy cup full of water for their Daughter.

She smiled and picked up Y/N "here you go honey some nice cold water" she said to the crying girl, Y/N grabbed the bottle from her mum and started drinking the cold water helping her throat. Matt sigh when she stopped crying, Kristy laughed at her husband. "You better go your already late" she said tochim making the Agent curse and grab his stuff.

He completely forgot, he kissed his Daughter and Wife before leaving and drving to work.

Time skip...

As soon as he sits down Matt I'd corned by JJ, Reid, Tara, Rossi and Luke who were waiting to ask why he was so late, the Matt sighs before telling them.

"Well our youngest daughter Y/N, woke up crying with a sore throat so we spent most the morning trying to comfort her and stop her crying, at the minute Kristy is taking her to her work to look after Y/N" he explained getting sympathy looks from his friends and a pattern on thr shoulder from Luke.

"Glad I'm not you mate" he says making Matt laugh, thebother leave his desk leaving Luke and Him, Then Wmily wlaks past then on the phone, something was happening.

"Yes sir, I will brief my team" she says before ending the call and turning to the two men. "Luke, Matt we're gonna need a hands k  deck for this one" she tells them, luke and Matt quickly stand ans start grabbing their stuff. "I jsut got off thr phone with the director he wants the BAU to take charge of a hostage situation in progress down town, the tonto cordon plaza 4th floor of the ALDC" she tells them.

Matt eyes go wide as she tells them where, his face is full of worry. "The ALDC" he says Emilt nods "that's right hostage rescue team is on there way" she says, her words aren't helping Matt only making him more worried. "Kristy and Y/N" he mutters.

Luke looks at the man "what about Kristy and Y/N" he asks the Shaken man. Matt looks up a Emily. "She just started working for the ALDC a few weeks ago and she's taken Y/N into work with her today" he says making his teams eyes widen in horror.

At the ALDC...

By the time Kritsty and Y/N left for thr office it was a couple minutes after matt, Kristy gave her daughter some cough medicine which helped her take a nap, the Mum then drove to her work and got out her Daughters push chair and put the sleeping toddler in it, Kristy then locked the doors and took the elevator upstairs to her office.

When she got there she walked to her desk and sat down she pulled Y/Ns push chair in so knowone would bump into the sleeping child, Kristy then got to work, it wasn't long before three men started shooting gund up at the ceiling. Y/N began crying making Kritsty act she quickly pulled dher daughter to her chest and layed flat on the floor woth

Y/N held to her chest the young girl still crying.

Everyone was terrified, the men the  told them to thr stand up which is what Kritsty did with her daughter held to her chest a hand protecting her head. She saw three men who didn't look old mid 20s maybe less.

The leader then ordered everyone to give up their phones Kristy remembered Matts new phone and quick kicked the bag under a chair making sure knowone saw it, she then handed them her phone, the Unsub looked at her daughter before sneering.

"Just keep her quiet" he said before walking away when one of the workers lied the leader started fo beat him up  Kritsty gasped and hid Y/N from is she shouldn't see the violence. Everyone then got split up and pulled to different area they were scared did as they were told, but Kritsty got hit fir saying something, she fell to the floor, Y/N held protectively in her grab.

Y/N began crying but Kritsty shooshed her and she stopped crying. "Shush Y/N, don't worry Mummy is okay" she said to her making the girl stop crying and sit on the floor, Kritsty was currently leaning against a wall sitting on the floor woth her Daughter sitting next to her looking around her. The little girl saw the mark on her Mum.

"Mama okay" she rasp her throat still sore, Kristy smiled at her caring daughter and rubbed her soft cheek with her finger. "Mamas okay Princess" she whispers as Y/N continues to look at her worried.

Y/N nods her little head "Okay mama" she then went back to picking at he carpet, the three unsubs have been out of the room for a while Kristy then looks around and runs over to where she kicked the phone and quickly grabbed it. Thr only number on it was Matts, she woman quickly turns it on and rings matt.

It rings a couple times before her Husband appears on screen, his worried face turns surprised to relief when he sees her alive. "Kristy are you okay? What about Y/N?" He asks his wife, Kristy smiles at him whiping her tears. "Yes I'm fine honey and so is Y/N" she told him.

Said Toddler then stuck her head into veiw, she was confused until she saw her Dads yon screen and squealed happy, she jumped and clapped her hands. "Daddy! Daddy!" She cried tapping the scream as she thought he was there, the man smiled and laughed at his Daughter she was always so happy to see him. "Hi Princess, you looking after Mummy for me?" He asks the little girl who nodded her head making the man and woman smile at her.

Matt then told Kritsty what he wants her to try and do which is to put thr phone somewhere up high so they could get a good veiw of the unsubs and what they arw doing because they hacked the cameras in the building. "Okay Matt I will" she says before leaving Y/N with on the thenothwr workers while she went to put thr phone somewhere when she found somewhere she went back go her daughter and the two waited to be rescued.

Time skip...

Suddenly the elevator doors opend and SWAT rushed in, Kristy sighs with relief they were saved, she grabbed Y/N and the two ran to Matt he and his Team came in behind the SWAT, Matt hugged his girls close, Y/N babbling happily as her Parents hugged, happy to be together again.

The end!

Hoped you like the first oneshot for Matt, once again sorry for the grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1530

[thebasementgirl]

"Things I'd like to see in s3" part 10

A Gentlebeard proposal

I feel like Stede would be the one to propose to Ed and Ed would basically melt with happiness.

We know Ed wants to marry Stede more than anything. But he probably thinks that after having an unsuccessful and unhappy marriage with Mary, Stede doesn't want to be married anymore, so he just accepts their life as it is because it's practically a marriage already.

But Stede, who had stated in ep 4 s1 that he abandoned his old life because he was uncomfortable in a married state, will soon understand that he doesn't hate being married but rather hates being married to someone he doesn't love. Therefore, marrying Ed would be something he would do with pleasure.

I imagine that Stede will spend an entire episode trying to plan the perfect proposal, with the perfect ring, he will ask for Izzy/Lucius' help, but there will be some unforeseen events throughout the episode.

He will plan to propose at a romantic lunch, but the food will be burned. He'll plan to propose during an outing in a romantic location, but the crew is tagging along and they won't be able to be alone. He will even lose his wedding ring at some point and feel like a failure. Until Izzy/Lucius will tell him that nothing in life is perfect, so the proposal doesn't need to be perfect either.

At night they will be talking (perhaps on the deck of the ship, under the moonlight), telling each other about their day, saying funny things, Ed will laugh at something he said, Stede will look at the Ed's laugh smiling softly as if he were the most beautiful creature that ever existed and as easy as breathing he will blurt out the question.

Ed initially won't be able to answer because he will be incredulous to hear this, so Stede will explain that he spent all day planning a perfect proposal but nothing is perfect and if he waits for the perfect moment he will wait forever and he doesn't want to wait forever because he loves Ed and Ed is already his “forever”. Then he will ask again. I bet you that Ed will cry with emotion and obviously say yes. I also think he's going to jump into Stede's arms and give him a hug so strong it will make them both fall to the floor laughing. And he's also going to shower Stede's face with kisses.

Lastly, since Stede will have lost the ring, he will use the same piece of twine that Ed placed on the breakfast tray in ep7 s2 and will tie it to Ed's finger to serve as an engagement ring. He will ask "is it alright?" and Ed will respond "This is perfect".

[find-roronoa-zoro]

Roronoa Zoro X CisFem Reader CW : Death

17

Everything happened so fast, perhaps it would feel that way regardless; no matter how sick he was or how old you were it would always be too soon. Two days before, at 3:14AM Marco called to tell you Pops was gone, and you hadn't shed a single tear. Things had to be done. The boys had to be taken care of.

There was a light snow falling making the night feel quieter.

"Do you want me to put on some music?" Zoro asked softly resting his chin on your head.

You hummed in affirmation and he shifted to get his phone. Since Pops passed away he'd been sleeping in your bed. You didn't want to leave your brothers but Zoro also brought a sense of calm and comfort. He obviously didn't mind the switch in sleeping arrangements. All that mattered at the moment was that you were ok. He was quite concerned that you had yet to cry. The days before you had no problem breaking down once the two of you were alone, but now you just stayed quiet and stared off into space. Perhaps you had exhausted all of your tears, but he had a feeling it was just building.

Soft music filled your room as his arms made their way back around you.

"It's almost three." he murmured.

"I'm not sleepy." you buried your face in his shoulder.

"That's ok. We can just lay here." he rubbed comforting circles on your back, "Do you need anything?"

"This is perfect. Thank you."

After a few quiet moments, someone tapped on your bedroom door.

"Yes?" you called rising from your boyfriend's chest.

The door cracked open as Luffy peeked in, "Can I sleep in here?"

"Of course baby," you answered climbing over Zoro to grab blankets to spread on the carpet. As you were making Luffy's pallet there was another knock.

"Come in."

"Uh...is it ok..." Ace trailed off catching sight of what you were doing.

"Yes Freckles, you'll need more blankets though."

Ace turned to fetch more blankets and bumped into Sabo.

"I'll get pillows." the blond murmured disappearing down the hall.

Ten minutes later all three of your baby brothers were camped out on your bedroom floor. For a moment you worried it would be awkward with Zoro in the bed with you but the only person who seemed to care was you. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to try anything while you were not really emotionally available.

He was really handling this whole situation better than you expected. Normally the beginning stages of a relationship are the most affectionate and yours was spent full of tears and anxiety, none of that being his fault, but he seemed to roll with it all. Zoro, of course, just wanted you to be comfortable and happy if right now things had to feel more platonic then so be it.

You rested your head on his shoulder while you both stared at the ceiling.

"Luffy, get your cold ass feet out of my blanket." Ace muttered kicking the youngest's feet.

"But, you're warm." Luffy kicked back, "I'm wearing socks."

"Stop, you're kicking me, idiots." Sabo grumbled.

In a matter of seconds, a WWE match was taking place in the middle of your room. Instead of scolding them and breaking up their fight you found yourself unable to contain your laughter. Uncontrolled melodic giggles pushed passed your lips eventually stopping your brother's brawl. Zoro turned on his side, your laugh had to be one of the greatest sounds ever created.

He was a bit alarmed to see tears rolling down your cheeks. Your laughter quickly turning into sobs and hiccups. Zoro pulled you into a seated position and held you against his chest.

"It's alright." he murmured against your temple.

Your brothers drooped back, all three feeling guilty for bringing on whatever kind of manic episode you were experiencing. Of course, it wasn't their fault.

"Are you ok?" Sabo questioned once you'd calmed down.

"S-sorry you guys," you mumbled wiping your face with your shirt, "it just reminded me of when you were little."

You turned to see them all watching you with puppy dog eyes.

"I'm not sad... it was just cute, and I couldn't help but think of how Pops would burst in and yell at us for being loud in the middle of the night."

"We were always getting yelled at huh?" Ace rubbed his nape.

"We really were brats though." you chuckled.

"You still are," Zoro added making you pout and push him.

"F/N?" Luffy called quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Would it be ok if you read?"

You smiled at your little brother and turned the lamp on your side table up to the next setting.

"Your book is on the desk."

After handing you the book everyone settled back into their bedding while you sat against Zoro and turned to the first chapter.

_____________

"Goddamnit, does it always take this long for you people to get ready, yoi?" Marco shouted down the hall.

Ace was in the shower, Sabo and Luffy had gone back to their rooms and you and Zoro were getting dressed in yours.

"Yes!" You and Sabo called back.

"Just hurry up. We have a schedule to keep with the funeral home." Marco's voice got further away as he went downstairs.

"You think this is ok? Shouldn't I be wearing black?" Zoro asked buttoning his navy shirt and tucking it into charcoal gray trousers.

"It's fine, Tiger." you were pinning your hair back at your vanity, "You didn't have a black suit anyway, and I think you look nicer in gray."

"I guess that's all that matters then." he flipped his collar up and began tying his tie.

You stood and slipped into the dress you'd picked. It was black with a boat neckline, three-quarter sleeves and an A-line skirt, Pop's had always liked it on you.

"Can you zip me?" you asked turning your back to Zoro who obliged, "How's this? Too much?"

He felt a little bad for all of the thoughts that dress elicited considering the occasion - 'too much' was definitely not one of them.

"Perfect." he finally managed.