#yes i did forget tags um. shut up /silly

[mellohiizz]

melly mel mellohiizz i miss ur minute design hes so girly girlboy

ough you actually made me remember how much i miss this guy. ☹️ so here's some minute sketches i threw together because i miss him a lot too...

[jackrrabbit]

Sleepless /// Tanjiro x f!reader (18+)

Request: Hi!! I'm not entirely sure on how to request since this is my first time EVER requesting something here on tumblr 😳😳 so im not sure if im doing this right,,,but um,,,,could you do a soft dom! tanjiro kamado x reader nsfw??? (he's aged up of course)

A/N: Y’all I’ve been working on this practically since I made this gd blog…idk why it took so long since I LOVE the concept. Reader is a traumatized bby who just needs her kitty licked  ✊😔 and honestly same

Tags/warnings: soft dom, daddy vibes but without the ‘daddy’ (onii-chan vibes?), brief mentions of past demon violence & PTSD, fluff?, historical inaccuracies probably, reader is implied to be inexperienced, mild overstimulation, lowkey yandere lowkey romantic who knows, all characters are adults

It starts out with little things. Harmless things. Tanjiro sees you barely ate anything at dinner, and later that night he comes to your bedroom with a plate of food for you. “You should eat,” he tells you.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, almost a little petulantly. The food looks good and you know he’s trying to be nice, but you’re not a child. You can take care of yourself, and even when you can’t it’s not his job to do it for you.

“Eat,” he says again softly. It’s not a command. It’s like he already knows you’re going to eat, and he’s just patiently waiting for you to give in.

You pick up the chopsticks and eat the food he prepared for you. All of it. Tanjiro sits there and watches and then when you’re done, he smiles at you and pats your head and takes the plate away. You think it’s weird, but the next morning you don’t question it. He’s a big brother to everyone—doesn’t it make sense that he would want to make sure you’re eating enough?

He probably can’t help it.

You decide you’re going to let it slide, until a few days later after breakfast with him and the others when Tanjiro pulls you aside and holds your face in his hands and tells you you’re looking a little tired lately—are you getting enough sleep?

The truth is that you aren’t. You want to deny it, but somehow you have a hard time lying to him. “I used to sleep with my siblings in our bed, so it’s hard to fall asleep since…” since the demon who made you an orphan murdered them. “And, you know. Nightmares.”

Tanjiro understands. Of course he understands! He used to have five younger siblings, did you know that? Now Nezuko has her own room and the rest…well, you’ve heard the story. It’s hard to fall asleep when you’re by yourself, isn’t it? He’s been there.

“How many hours are you sleeping every night? On average?”

You’re trying too hard to ignore the brush of his callused fingertips over your cheekbones, so you tell him the truth without meaning to. “Um, like four hours? On a good day?”

His eyes go wide and suddenly both of his hands are wrapped around one of yours and squeezing, maybe a little too tight. “Is that the truth, (Y/N)? Four hours is too little. Sleep deprivation isn’t good for you.”

“I know, but—”

“No. The next time you have trouble getting to sleep, I want you to come to my room.” You open your mouth to mount a denial, but he frowns and cuts you off. “Promise me. Okay? It’s really bad for your health, so promise.”

And once again, you say yes even though you don’t want to.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine, you think. You’ll just pretend you’re sleeping better. Tonight you’ll lay in bed with your eyes open and stare at the ceiling and try to listen to your own breathing, in and out and in and out, and hope it drowns out the memories that stick fast in your head whenever you’re by yourself. Then when you’ve been laying in the dark for a few hours, you’ll finally fall asleep and all your nightmares will play out in technicolor and you’ll do your best to be quiet so you don’t wake anyone else up and in the morning you’ll splash cold water on your face to make your eyes less puffy and pinch your cheeks to get some color in them and it’ll be fine.

You can take care of yourself. You have to, since everyone else is gone. So you’re not sure why, when the sun goes down and you’re looking into the face of another sleepless night, you find yourself knocking on the door of Tanjiro’s bedroom.

Maybe it’s just that he made you promise. You hate breaking your promises.

He lets you in, the half-asleep affect mixing with the same caring, serene look as always (and it’s a little insulting that he’s not surprised at all). Tanjiro sits on the bed first and you can’t help staring at him in the flickering orange lamplight. He’s more muscular than you remembered, and taller than when you first met. He can play the role of a big brother all he likes, but he’s still an adult. A man. And he’s not family.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you say, fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),” Tanjiro murmurs as he lies down, his voice still scratchy with sleep. Somehow it relaxes you. He just has that way about him—when he says it’s okay, it feels okay.

Tanjiro pats the spot on the bed next to him. It looks really warm, and there’s a winter chill in the air even though it’s only September. It’s a bed made for one person, but Tanjiro—ever considerate—has moved over to one side to make space for you.

“Come on. Come sleep,” he instructs in that soft, non-demanding way of his. So you sit down on the edge of the bed and (carefully, carefully, like you’re making your way into a hot bath) fold your legs and pull the covers over you so you’re lying next to him. The bed is even warmer than you thought it’d be. Tanjiro radiates heat—he’s so warm, you think, how fitting—and then before you know it you’re drifting into the first dreamless sleep you’ve been afforded in a very long time.

That first night, you sleep with a good six inches of space between the two of you. You don’t want to touch him, don’t want to cross that invisible boundary—at first. But it doesn’t matter, because every time you wake up next to him, you’re curled up to his side like a puppy seeking warmth. It’s not like he minds. Judging from the gentle smile on his face when he wakes you up in the morning (and tells you that you should go back to your room before anyone notices you’re not there) he likes it.

Never again, you think. No way. But you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in so long, and it’s nice to be well-rested for once, and the next evening you only lie in your bed for fifteen minutes before you’re knocking on Tanjiro’s door again, silently asking if you can take advantage of his kind nature for just one more night.

He says yes. Of course he does. So you sleep next to Tanjiro again, you keep half a foot of space between you again, and you wake up hugging him. Again. And then you do it the next night, and the next night, sleeping beside Tanjiro over and over until you no longer bother trying to leave room between your body and his.

Is this okay? you wonder sometime around the two-week mark. It’s the longest you’ve gone without having nightmares since the demon came. Sometimes you think you’re betraying your loved ones by trying not to think about their deaths; letting yourself off easy while they suffered. You tell this to Tanjiro while the two of you are lying back to back under his blanket, quietly enough that (you hope) if he’s already sleeping you won’t wake him.

He hears you, and he turns around and lays his arm around your waist. “Don’t be silly…of course they wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”

“But how do you know?”

“I know.” Tanjiro’s voice is half muffled by your hair, but it’s steady. “You believe me, don’t you.”

You do.

“Don’t think about that anymore.” His hold on your waist gets a little bit tighter, arms a little bit less forgiving.

“I won’t,” you say, hoping that the promise will be enough. The two of you fall asleep like that, and when you wake up in the morning it’s the first time ever that you haven’t moved in the night.

As if it wasn’t enough to be spending every night together, at some point you start to dream about him too. Usually it’ll just be a flash or a snippet that you barely remember once you wake—the reassuring tone of his voice, a smell like a campfire, or a few notes of laughter—but tonight you’re watching him train in the courtyard. In the dream, he moves through his forms with inhuman grace, position to position to position, balanced with perfect agility like he’s a dancer and not a swordsman. With how beautiful it is, you can almost forget the raw power behind his movement, the strength that has subjugated more demons than you care to know.

He pauses to stretch, rolling his shoulders back, and you notice that he’s shirtless (which is how you know it’s a dream). Tanjiro’s arms flex as he raises the blade into position, and the sun shimmers over the thin sheen of sweat on his chest. He looks ethereal like this, and as you sit on the porch and watch him, you feel heat stir inside of you that has nothing to do with the sunlight.

Tanjiro, you call out softly. He looks around to you, deep red eyes resting on yours, and whips the blade down to replace it in its sheath.

Can I come closer? The grass is cool and wet under your bare feet as you pad lightly into the courtyard toward him. You can taste the humid summer air in your mouth. Fingers tangle themselves in your hair, tilting your head up to meet his.

Tanjiro…

“(Y/N)?”

Tanjiro’s voice cuts through the dream and you scrunch your eyes shut, reluctant to leave the dream world where he wants to touch you, not out of pity or because he thinks it’s his duty to take care of you but because he wants to. But it’s too late—his hand is on your shoulder, gently shaking you out of your slumber. “(Y/N)? You said my name.”

“Sorry, I…sorry.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

He kissed you, in your dream. Now that you’re looking at the real version, your cheeks feel warm…and so does that same spot below your belly. Suddenly the room feels uncomfortably hot, and you wish you weren’t trapped under the covers with Tanjiro. You shift your legs to try and get a little more air between the two of you, but the heat persists.

“I think I should go back to my room.” You must be sweating—you feel damp for some reason. He’s too close.

Tanjiro ignores you. “Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“I—you,” you admit. “You were training.”

“And?”

“And…I don’t know. It’s kind of warm in here, isn’t it? I think I’ll just…” You push the cover aside and sit up, but before you can get yourself off the bed, Tanjiro is tugging you back down, holding to the mattress so he can hover over you in that way he likes.

“Tell me,” he says to you, voice as firm as it is gentle. Sleep-mussed locks of red hair flop over his forehead but his face is serious, and you can’t look away.

“You kissed me,” you whisper.

That takes him by surprise. You can tell by the way his eyes widen, but his hold on you doesn’t ease up. You want to die. Why did you say that? He’ll think you’re disgusting, sleeping next to him in his bed and having perverted dreams about him. Why couldn’t you have just lied? Why can’t you ever lie to him?

“I’m going back to my bedroom.” You try to project more confidence than you actually feel, but there’s no use. Tanjiro doesn’t seem like he’s going to let you get away from him any time soon.

He’s straddling your body carefully, one elbow folded next to your head while his other hand comes up to stroke your cheek. “Your face is all red.”

“You’re…you’re too close.”

“I don’t think I’m close enough. You have goosebumps, look...” Tanjiro folds up the sleeve of your sleep shirt, exposing your arms to view. “…here…and here, too…”

His hands are wandering further down to the hem of the shirt, pushing it up so slowly and gently that you’re not even sure it’s happening until you feel him stroking over your belly. It’s true, you do have goosebumps. It feels like every hair on your body is standing on end. “Tanjiro…?”

“I guess you haven’t been able to touch yourself, since we’ve been sleeping together. That kind of repression is bad for your health. Even I’ve been a little…frustrated.”

Your mind has to work overtime to understand what he’s telling you as he strokes over your stomach and onto the sensitive skin of your sides, and then up to the flesh covering your ribs. His thumb teases over the underside of one of your breasts for a second, but the shock must have shown on your face because he retreats immediately.

“I’m not. I’m not frustrated,” you say, knowing he won’t believe you.

Tanjiro shakes his head in dismissal. “I don’t think that’s true, (Y/N).”

What are you supposed to say? Of course it’s not true. But admitting that you’ve been feeling heated around him lately would ruin everything, so refuse to say it. “I…I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say it. Can I prove it to you?”

What does he mean? Your head jerks up and down in acquiescence. You barely have to wait a moment before Tanjiro’s hands are slipping down your sides to the waistband of your pants and tugging them down over your hips. A tap on your hipbones prompts you to lift your hips and let him remove the clothing, not that you know why you’re complying so blindly.

Just like you always do.

Is he still trying to take care of you? Putting himself in a caretaker’s role because he thinks you need him? This is going a little far, too far maybe, but you can’t deny you want this. The heat of his body is no longer stifling—instead, it feels like it’s pulling you into him.

When your pants are out of the way, Tanjiro reaches into your underwear and dabs against your slit. It’s not until you feel his finger sliding between the puffy lips of your cunt that you realize how wet you are…and of course he can feel it too. Your knees jerk together to try and push him away from you but he’s unfazed, his touch steadily becoming more intrusive as he seeks out the syrupy dampness from your pussy.

“What am I feeling right now? I want you to tell me.”

“You’re—you’re touching me?” you gasp out.

“And you’re all wet. You can’t tell me you haven’t been frustrated when you’re getting this wet with just my fingers.” At this, you feel him prodding deeper into your pussy and stretching you open.

“Nn—okay, fine! Fine!” The words come out of you in a rapid burst, and you finally muster up the resolve to push Tanjiro away from you by his shoulders. “I’ll go back to my room and deal with it, okay? You don’t have to do it for me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can trust you to take care of this problem by yourself. You’ve been lying to me about your needs.”

You wish he wasn’t able to be so calm while you feel like your entire face is on fire. He pulls his hand out of your panties and backs up on the bed so his torso is framed between your legs. “Can you let me help you, (Y/N)? Let me take care of you.”

You lick your lips without realizing you’re doing it, and Tanjiro’s eyes follow the motion. You can barely comprehend what he’s asking. You want it. You want his hands on you; you want to be taken care of in the way he’s offering. But whether or not you can actually ask for it is another story. “Tanjiro…”

“You need this. I know you do.” He skims his palm over your bare thigh in a soothing motion that, oddly enough, puts your barbed nerves a fraction at ease. “I want you to be honest with me about what you need.”

It’s too much. The warmth of his body so tantalizingly close to yours, his shadowed eyes searching yours for a response you don’t know how to give him…and the sticky mess in your panties. Tanjiro’s giving you a free pass to get something you’ve wanted for longer than you can comfortably admit to yourself, and you’re not sure you could deny him if you tried. What can you tell him except the truth? “I want you. I need you.”

“Good girl. See how good it feels to be honest?” Tanjiro bows down and mouths over your pussy through the wet spot on your panties.

It’s not the honesty that feels good, you think as his tongue pads at you through the fabric.

Too impatient to wait another second to taste you, Tanjiro nudges your rear up and slides your panties down your legs. As soon as you kick the undergarment off your feet, he’s pulling your thighs back apart and curling his thickly-muscled arms around them to hold you securely as his head dips back down to your bare pussy. He wastes no time in laving his tongue over your slit and up to the button at the top.

The sensation of this hot, wet muscle pressing up against your most private area is…weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt anything like this—to be honest, you don’t even know exactly what Tanjiro’s doing. When you think about what’s actually happening on this bed—your (friend? partner? bedmate? crush?) ally has his mouth angled between your legs and is licking your pussy—you think you might spontaneously combust. You’ve never felt anything like this before, and however strange the feeling is, you’re more than aware of your hips grinding up toward Tanjiro just so you can feel more of it.

“Here, let me help…” Tanjiro effortlessly lifts you to place a pillow under your lower back, and then moves back down to continue his relentless licking, this time at a new angle that allows him full access to every millimeter of your raw cunt. He’s eating you out like your pussy is the last meal he’ll ever have.

And how can he help it? You taste so good, so sweet on his lips and over his tongue. You must have been in so much pain lying next to him every night with your desire leaking out between your thighs. Just thinking about is making heat rise low in his groin, and his grip on you is getting tighter by the second. How awful that you tried to keep this to yourself…it was remiss of him not to realize before tonight that you needed him so badly.

But it’s going to be alright, because judging from the muffled noises you’re making, every swipe of his tongue licking up your slit is more than making it up to you.

You probably don’t realize how much your hips are wiggling under his minstrations. He barely has to exert any effort to keep you still, but the way you keep trying you push yourself closer to him is enticing, not to mention the way you’re trying (and failing) to keep your voice down through your moans.

“Tanjiro…T-Tanjiro,” you whimper. It’s like you can’t think of anything except for his name. All of your attention is focused on the pressure building up deep in your core, each stroke of his tongue over your clit taking you higher and higher. You feel tense…wound up so tightly that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from letting the shallow puffs of air turn into full-fledged cries.

Just like that, please, please… You think the words rather than saying them, even though you want to. It’s too humiliating to be begging Tanjiro for more while he’s already giving you more than you deserve, but it’s almost like he heard you anyway, because his tongue writhes down across your clit again and your back arches up off the bedspread.

Your thighs twitch around his head, trying involuntarily to hold him down. He just chuckles and keeps you firmly in place, and his voice hums out over your pussy making feel even more wild. “Please, I’m—I’m cumming…” Your voice trails off and you crush the heels of your palms into your face to cover up your expression while the wave of pleasure hits you so hard you think you might faint.

Tanjiro doesn’t stop. You’re crying out in whimpers so high-pitched he can barely hear them, but he doesn’t stop. The delicate muscles in your pussy are throbbing under his tongue, but he doesn’t stop licking until you’re almost crying, panting out “it’s too much it’s too much, please Tanjiro” and pushing his head away with your hand.

When he finally pulls away, his hair is tangled and disarrayed from where you’ve been running your hands through it, and his mouth and jaw are shining wet. Tanjiro licks his lips and if you didn’t feel shaky before…you do now.

It takes a second for the power of thought to return to you, but when it does you just sigh weakly and flop back down onto the bed. Tanjiro’s next to you before you hit the pillow, and he grips your jaw with one hand to angle your head to meet his, and—

He’s kissing you. He’s actually kissing you. His lips are surprisingly soft over yours, but as usual there’s an unnecessary degree of pressure attached to the contact that has you sinking deeper into your blankets under his force. You can detect the lush, slightly bitter taste of your arousal coating the inside of his mouth as his tongue (skillful as ever) traces over yours. Tanjiro is kissing you, and it’s a hundred times better than any dream you could come up with on your own, so you kiss back.

It takes him a long moment to break the kiss, long enough that your lungs are pleading for air by the end of it. When his lips leave yours, a thin trail of saliva connects the two of you until it breaks and drips down your chin.

“Tanjiro…” You search for the right words, but what are you supposed to say at a time like this? “I…what did we just do?”

“Shh, don’t worry.” Tanjiro leans in again, this time just to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to take good care of you, okay?”

You take a moment and then duck your head into a nod. It doesn’t make any sense—how does he do that?—but once he says it’s okay it always is.

[weelittleweasley]

crazy (f.w.)

prompt: something has been off between you and fred and trying to get to the bottom of it is madness.

pairing: fred weasley x fem! gryffindor! reader

warnings: mild language, crying, usage of marijuana, underage smoking, being high, dwindling relationships, angst

word count: 6.6k

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff​ @harrysweasleys​ @gcdric​ @lumos-barnes​ @whizboingies​ @lumosandnoxwriting​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @c-t-h​ @lol-idk-oops​ @another-lonely-heart-blog​ @parseltongueswriting​ @shilohpug​ @peachypotter​ @spacexcowgirl​ @paintballkid711​@vogueweasley​ @kaseyrose96-blog​ @hufflepuff5972​ @gryffindcrghost​ @wand3ringr0s3​

The snow melted away revealing the lush, green Scottish landscapes that the Hogwarts castle proudly sat upon. Spring had made its arrival with the eruption of white forget-me-nots and blossoming wildflowers in the courtyard. The sight from outside your window made your heart fill with glee as you smiled brightly, a lighthearted giggle dancing off your lips. You turned to your roommates with bright eyes and a hopeful smile. Alicia sighs mellow dramatically as you run over to her with pleading eyes, “It’s a beautiful day outside. Don’t you want to enjoy the first day of spring?” you dance around her as Angelina enters your dormitory with a big, bright smile. She had the same idea as you, no doubt. 

Alicia looks back and forth between you and Angie before surrendering, “Not too long please. I have an herbology exam and I need to do well on it.”

Without much more hesitation, the three of you are out of the dormitory and scurrying down the stairs. “We’ll be surrounded by the grass and the flowers and the trees; that oughtta help with studying, won’t it, Angie?” you tease as Angelina laughs in agreement, earning a sarcastic eye roll from Alicia. Finally, a warm day outside after the brutal and unforgiving winter. The sun was out, the grass was green, and the air was fresh with renewal. Spring was here.

As you walk through the common room, you stop in your tracks when your eyes land on Fred, your lips involuntarily turning up into a smile when you see him. Angelina and Alicia run ahead of you as you grab Fred’s hands with a smile. “Freddie!” you beam, looking at him with a happy grin, cheeks tingling from smiling hard.

He reciprocates a smile and places a kiss to your forehead. “Excited to see me, darling?” he teases. “Where are you lot off to?” he asks, resting one of his hands on your hips, looking down at you as you excitedly rock back and forth on your heels. Your lips are curled into a smile as you bite onto your bottom lip, lovingly looking at your Fred. “Take a picture, sweetheart, it’ll last longer,” he whispers, teasing you as you roll your eyes with a light swat to his chest, making him chuckle.

“We’re off to go outside. It’s beautiful out and we figured we would enjoy the weather,” you tell him as he tilts your chin up with this forefinger, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. You giggle lightly before biting his thumb gently as he chuckles. “You want to come with us?” you ask hopeful for his response.

Much to your dismay, Fred sighs, “I’m afraid I can’t. I have loads of work to catch up on today. I’m way behind in Potions.” You pout, displeased with the news, but Fred kisses your pouted lips which brings an instant smile to your face. “I’ll catch up with you later though, alright, darling?” You give him a small nod before he pecks your forehead and leaves you, catching up with George who waits for him at the bottom of the steps to the boys’ dormitories. 

You run off, catching up with Alicia and Angie, linking your arms with them as you make your way outdoors. As soon as you step outside, the spring air fills your lungs, smelling of fresh grass and morning dew. A small smile forms on your lips as you happily sigh. Springtime made your heart soar. It reminded you of good things, happy memories. Running in the grass as you played games of tag as a child, going to the park and getting pushed on the swings as you swung higher and higher. Spring reminded you of laying underneath a tree, Fred’s head in your lap as you brushed through his hair, reading a book out loud to him as he happily shut his eyes, listening to the sound of your voice mixing with the springtime breeze. 

Angelina immediately makes a run for a grassy patch covered with beautiful wildflowers, laughing in the process as you and Alicia run after her. All three of you immediately flop down, the grass molding to the shape of your bodies as you lay back, staring at the pale blue sky filled with cotton ball clouds. As if on cue, the three of you sigh out. “This is nice,” you speak as Angie hums in agreement. “Aren’t you glad you came, Alicia?”

Alicia sighs, “Yeah, I guess.” You push her arm teasingly, making her retaliate, “Okay, okay, yes. This is very nice. Thank you.”

The three of you lay in the grass for a long while, making quiet chatter. At one point, you start picking flowers, tying the stems together to create a crown for each of you. You skillfully plaited the stems of the purple, yellow, and white wildflowers before placing the crown on your two friends’ heads. With the other flowers you found, you started plaiting again, this crown for Fred as you smiled to yourself, quietly making your masterpiece. 

“For Fred?” Alicia asks you as you nod your head, not looking away from the plaits. “Jeez, (Y/N), you’re like a lovesick puppy.” 

This earns a slap on the arm from Angelina, a small ouch dropping from Alicia’s mouth. “I think it’s sweet, (Y/N),” Angie beams at you as you roll your eyes, knowing she found it tooth rotting-ly sick like Alicia did. But you didn’t care. It was the small things that you did that made Fred know that you loved him. Small kisses in between classes, closing his textbook for him when he needed a break, offering a hug when he was stressed, sneaking out of class to meet him in the hallway. It were the little things that made Fred fall in love with you and you with him. Although a flower crown may be silly, it was just a token of affection. To show him that you were thinking of him while you were outside.

Recently, you’ve been doing little things more often just because of how busy Fred seemed to be. Your hang outs have been getting cut short and he doesn’t seem to have as much free time anymore. Whether it’s quidditch practice, studying for exams, or running off to pull pranks with George, you always catch him when he’s busy. It was a little frustrating, feeling like your boyfriend had been casting you aside and taking priorities over something else. But rather than telling him how you felt, you convinced yourself that this was just temporary and it would phase itself out. But a month had gone by, and nothing changed. But you still hadn’t brought it up to him. Instead, you continued doing little things.

Alicia groans, peeling herself off of the fresh grass, shielding her eyes from the setting sun. “I should probably head back inside now to study. The exam is this week and I still have a lot of work to do,” she huffs before standing from the grass, brushing off her skirt as you and Angelina follow her lead.

You link arms with Angelina as Alicia leads the way. Angelina looks at you, as you play with Fred’s flower crown in your hands. “You alright?” she asks you as you look at her with a small nod. “You seem gloomy.”

You think for a moment. You could tell Angelina about the situation, but you didn’t want to drag your friends into your relationship problems. She could talk to Fred, but why would she talk to Fred when you could? With a shake of your head, you speak, “I’m alright, Angie. Thank you for checking in though.”

She hugs you to her side, “Of course. You are one of my best mates, I just want to make sure that you’re happy.” You nod your head and walk back into the common room. 

Alicia and Angie start to the girl’s dorms as you part from them, towards the boy’s. “I’m gonna go to Fred’s. I’ll catch up with you lot later,” you smile at them with a wave before heading up the stairs to Fred’s dormitory. Nervously, you play with the flower crown in your hands, twisting it in between your fingers. You were hoping that you and Fred could finally have some alone time, hoping that George and Lee wouldn’t be in the room. It had been a long while since you had alone time with Fred. Even then, the last time was short lived, Fred leaving your room earlier than you had planned thanks to quidditch practice. 

When you reached his dormitory, you lifted your hand up to knock, but stopped when you heard laughter coming from behind the door. There were a few people in the room. You could hear Fred’s voice, but also a handful of others in the room. Your heart sank as you listened to the muffled voices behind the door, having a laugh with each other. Did Fred leave you out intentionally? You were friends with the same people in your year which made no sense as to why he didn’t tell you of this hang out. You got along with everyone just fine. 

You shake it off and knock on the door which causes all the voices to halt suddenly. You are so tempted to press your ear to the door to listen to the low whispering before you hear footsteps approach the door, the lock turn, and the door creak open to reveal Fred at the door. “Hi,” you speak timidly as Fred smiles.

But instead of swinging the door open as expected, Fred slithers out from the door and closes it behind him. “Hi, sweetheart,” he coos to you as you feign a smile. You look behind him at the door, wondering what could be happening behind it. “I didn’t expect you,” he interrupts your thoughts as you look at him.

“Well, you did say we would catch up later...and it’s later,” you chuckle as Fred smiles. “Um,” you stutter before formulating a sentence, “I, uh, are you busy now? I thought that maybe we could go out into the courtyard and grab a blanket and watch the stars? It’s supposed to be clear out tonight. Perfect for stargazing.” You had come up with this idea off the cuff, testing him. If he said no, he could invite you in to where he was clearly hanging out with some people already. If he said yes, it meant he was willing to ditch whatever was going on inside to be with you. 

Fred gives you a sad smile. “That sounds lovely, but I’m afraid I’m slammed with work tonight,” he tells you as your heart falls. You wait for him to invite you inside to his room with the obvious group he had. But he mentions none of it. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you. Soon,” he explains, kissing your hairline as you gulp, trying to keep cool. “What’s this?” he refers to the flower crown on your head with a giggle as you lightly force a smile on your lips to cover your disappointment.

“It’s, uh, a flower crown. I made them in the field. I made one for myself and Angie, and Alicia, and I actually m-”

“I hate to cut you off, my love, but I really have to get back to work,” Fred interjects as you stand there, mouth agape and eyes filled with pure confusion. “I’m sorry about tonight, darling, but I have to get going. I’ll see you soon, I promise. Love you,” he kisses your parted lips before slipping back behind the door, leaving you speechless and upset.

The flower crown in your hand suddenly looks very wilted as you sigh at the sight of it. You gulp hard, trying to keep calm and collected, but you can’t help but feel so disappointed. And lied to. Fred obviously had people over in his room and he didn’t tell you about them when you gave him the opportunity to.

Even more upset than before, you walk down the stairs and back to the girl’s dormitory, throwing Fred’s wilted crown in the garbage in the process. With low spirits, you walk back into your dormitory to see Alicia reading a textbook on her bed while Angelina laid on the floor, painting her nails, both shocked to see you back so soon. But before they could ask you why you simply stated, ��He was busy.”

You take off your jumper and change into a fresh shirt and comfortable sweatpants as Alicia closes her textbook and sighs. “(Y/N), is something going on between you and Fred?” she asks you as you face away from them, changing. As you fold your clothes, you try your best to not let your sad thoughts get the best of you. “The two of you seem a little off lately. Can we help?” she asks, but that’s when it gets to you. You couldn’t hide the fact that something was happening between you and Fred and not something good. This distance, the feeling like you were oceans away, was starting to show to the outside eye.

Without bothering to cover it up, you let a small sob escape your lips as you turn around to face your friends. Both of them rise to their feet to comfort you as Angelina wraps her arms around you, pulling you closer as Alicia rubs your back. You cry in Angie’s arms, speaking through small sobs, “I just can’t help but feel worried for us.” The two of your friends listen to you intently, not wanting to miss a single beat. “Why do I let myself worry wondering what in the world did I do?” you cry out. You can’t help but feel like you did something wrong that made Fred cast you aside. 

You peel yourself from Angelina’s embrace you as you wipe your eyes with the cuff of your clean shirt. “I’m so sorry you feel like this, (Y/N). You don’t deserve any of it,” Alicia says. “He’s behaving like a child,” she shakes her head as you sniffle, Alicia still rubbing your back.

“It’s not even him behaving like a child. I’ve grown used to that. It’s just...” you sigh out, running your hands over your face. “I came to his room and there were people there...and he was hiding them from me. He came out into the hallway to talk to me and he didn’t invite me in when I knew there were people inside. He’s just become so...sneaky for some reason. And that’s not the Fred I know,” you trail off, thinking about how unlike Fred this was. “I feel crazy for feeling so lonely.”

The thought of Fred becoming someone you didn’t recognize made your stomach feel queasy and your chest feel tight. You fell in love with a wild, goofy, happy person who loved spending time with you. And now...now you barely even saw the boy to know what he was like.

Angelina looks at you with sad eyes, “Hey. You’ve got us.” You give her a sad smile and nod your head. She was completely right; just because your boyfriend didn’t want to hang out with you all the time didn’t mean that you didn’t have other people in your life. “Now let’s dry those eyes and enjoy the night. I’ll finish painting my nails and then we can do yours. After that, I say we sneak into the kitchens and get some snacks and head up to the astronomy tower. It’s supposed to be a clear night and that means it’s a great night for star gazing,” she suggests with a hopeful smile as you sniffle, a small smile emerging on your face.

You look to Alicia, an excited gleam in your eyes, looking for her answer. She sighs in defeat, “Yeah, I’ll join. But if I get a shit mark on this test, it’s you two’s fault,” she points a warning finger at you as you giggle.

“Thank you, the both of you,” you tell your two best friends. This was exactly what you needed. A night with your two best friends enjoying the views of the crystal clear night sky. It was exactly what you needed to get your mind off of your relationship with Fred. 

Soon enough, Angelina had finished painting her nails and Alicia had finished cramming in some last minute studying. “You sure that you’re ready for the exam, Leesh? Because if you’re not, we can do a different night!” you try to sympathize with her.

Alicia shakes her head, “Nah, I should be fine. Besides, I sit next to Longbottom. If worse comes to worse-”

“Alicia!” Angelina laughs as she just shrugs as the two of you leave your dormitory room, headed for the kitchens. “Alright you lot, come on now. And remember to keep,” Angelina speaks in a hush whisper as you tip toe into the kitchen, but halting in your tracks when you realize you’re not alone, “quiet.”

Standing in front of you is a laughing Katie Bell as she stands in between the legs of Fred who is sat on top of the counter, munching on a chocolate biscuit. The two of them are a giggling mess as you spot George and Lee raiding the cupboards for more snacks. But the laughter dwindles down as Fred’s eyes land on you. When his chocolate eyes meet yours, your heart falls onto the ground. He was busy, eh?

Alicia looks at your reaction and what she sees is the look of heartbreak. Anger starts to bubble in Alicia’s chest when she notices how upset you are. Without further hesitation, she claps her hands. “Alright, you lot. The kitchens aren’t just for you. Come on. Give it up,” she walks further into the kitchens, plucking snacks as she sees fit, one of them being the biscuits that Fred had in his hand. She immediately sticks the treat in her mouth before Fred can protest. “Thanks, Weasley,” she says with a mouthful of chocolate biscuit. 

You on the other hand stay put where you are, eyes glued on Fred and his on yours. Your eyes stare into his soul and you can feel how uncomfortable he is with you catching him redhanded. His eyes are like magnets, not letting you pull away from him. It’s like you’re in a trance and he’s trying to send you a mind message. But before he can say anything, you shake your head and break eye contact. Angelina mutters something under her breath as she walks towards Alicia to help her with snacks, but you can make out her saying something along the lines of how pathetic. 

Walking into the kitchens, following Angelina, you grab a bag from Alicia filled with snacks. As you turn around, you bump into George who is a giggling mess. “(Y/N)!” he exclaims as you sigh and give him a curt smile. “I haven’t seen you in forever,” he whines as you look to Angelina for help with wide eyes. “Is Freddie keeping you all to himself again?” he teases you, wiggling his brows.

But as you look at his eyes, you see how bloodshot they look, how droopy and tired his eyes are. He sports a lazy smile and a giggle keeps reverberating in his chest. You furrow your brows, “Are you...are you high, Georgie?” you ask him.

He scoffs, “Me? High? Pffft, no!” You give him a look. “Okay, yes. I am.” You look to Angelina and gulp, wanting to leave now before things got ugly. “Freddie, I miss (Y/N). Where have you been hiding her?” George calls out to her brother who remains seated on the counter, staring at you the whole time.

Fred opens his mouth to say something, but you speak before he can, “You’ve been really busy, huh, Freddie.” He just sits there and stares at you. “Thank you for being honest with me.” Your eyes divert and see Katie who stands in between his legs, hands placed on his knees. The sight makes you feel sick. “Very important business to attend to, you know? Keeping up with Potions homework. Maybe Katie can help.”

Not wanting to wait in the kitchen any longer, you start out with Alicia and Angelina not too far behind. Fred calls out your name, once, and then twice when you don’t respond. When you’re out the door, you call back, “Talk to me when you’re sober.”

You, Alicia, and Angelina walk out of the kitchens and through the castle, the energy between the three of you noticeably shifting as anger, hurt, and sadness bubble in your bones. Angie speaks, “(Y/N), you wanna ta-”

“No. I want to watch the stars with my friends. That’s all.”

Alicia and Angelina share a look as you continue to march your way to the astronomy tower, trying to enjoy what is salvageable of your night.

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

The next morning, the emotions you felt from last night are only amplified. The night under the stars with Angie and Alicia was lovely, but you couldn’t help your mind from wandering to the sight of Katie next to Fred, his eyes glued on you. You felt sick. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions without hearing the full story, but your gut was telling you something wasn’t adding up. The relationship wasn’t what it used to be, but this...this was something you didn’t think would ever happen.

As you sit up in bed, you run your hands over your face in distress, trying to figure out how to approach the situation. Angelina and Alicia are still fast asleep, so there was no use asking them for advice. You were on your own with this one. 

“Get dressed and then you can think of something,” you whisper to yourself. You hoist your legs over the side of your bed and stand up, stretching your arms out with a yawn. “You can deal with Fred later.”

And as if on cue, there was a knock at your door. You look at the clock. It was only nine in the morning on a Saturday, who was up this early on a day off? Slowly, you make your way to the door and speak from behind it. “Who is it?”

“It’s, uh, me. It’s Fred, (Y/N),” the voice speaks as you close your eyes, silently cursing to yourself. Shit. “We need to talk about last night and what happened in the kitchens.”

You remain behind the door, hand on the door knob, but not moving it. You knew you had to talk to him and sort this whole thing out whether you liked the ending or not. 

“Please, (Y/N).”

Taking a deep breath in, you open the door gently to reveal a messy haired Fred in a t-shirt and sweatpants, still groggy from sleep or lack thereof. He gives you a weak smile, “Good morning, darling.”

But his pet names didn’t bring a smile on your face like they normally did. Instead, they made your stomach sour as you just looked to the floor, pulling your jumper closer to your body. “If you want to talk, we can’t do it here. Angelina and Alicia are sleeping and I’m not disturbing them,” you speak plainly, looking up at Fred with cold eyes. 

He bites the inside of his cheek and speaks, “We can go into my room if that’s alright with you. George and Lee went down for breakfast.”

Even though you would have preferred to have this talk in your own room, your own space, it was better to do it in the privacy of Fred’s rather than having to wake up and shoo Angelina and Alicia, or worse, talk as they were asleep. Begrudgingly, you shut the door behind you and follow Fred to his dormitory, a familiar route to you, but one you’d rather not be taking now. 

The walk there is quiet and awkward. It is obvious that Fred is trying to make light of the situation, asking you how last night was with the girls, asking you about the day in the grass and how the weather was. But instead of engaging in conversation, you just give him one word answers or remain silent. 

When you reach his room, he opens the door for you and you step into his dormitory, immediately feeling like an outsider. It was unfamiliar. This room was where you spent most of your time for so long, but since you hadn’t been here in nearly a month you felt out of place. Like you were disturbing it. You were an intruder. 

Fred taps his legs before sitting on the bed, expecting you to follow suit, but you remain standing in the middle of the room, staring at him in your pajamas. “I just want to apologize for last night and you having to see me like...that,” he sighs as you remain unfazed by his words. “I should have told you that the boys and Katie and I were hanging out instead of telling you that I was working. It was wrong and I feel like shit about it...I’m sorry, love. I really feel like a dickhead,” he apologizes to you as you fold your arms across your chest. “The truth would have been so much easier to tell you rather than lie about something as silly as a group hang out. I just didn’t tell you because the boys were complaining that they never see me anymore because of how much time we spend together and I figured that if I didn’t tell you, you wouldn’t ask.”

You give him a look that just screams, you’re kidding me, right? You were busy hanging out with him? For Merlin’s sake, you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in almost a month and that was his apology? Rather his excuse? “They haven’t seen you? Fred, I haven’t seen you in nearly a month! Every time I try and ask you to hang out with me or even talk to me you have something to do. Quidditch, pulling a prank with George, hanging out with Lee, studying for an exam. Don’t try and make this about me and my demands because it’s not,” you retort to him as he just sits on the bed and stares up at you as you vent. “Not to mention, since when has you dating me ever stood in the way of you hanging out with your friends? If you wanted to hang out with them so badly, then you should have told me and I still would have said yes, Fred! I’m not a monster who wants you all to herself, but Godric, I’m sorry that I’ve miss my boyfriend!”

Fred rubs his face and simply says, “Well, I have been busy over the past couple of weeks, so that’s not rubbish.”

You laugh at his response. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?” you exclaim. “Fred, I’ve been driving myself crazy over the past few weeks wondering what I did wrong. Why you pushed me aside, why you’ve tossed me away like I’m a piece of garbage!”

“That’s not true, (Y/N). Come on,” he shakes his head, looking away from you.

Now, you are getting angry. He was going to pretend like him ignoring you and denying you for a month was nothing. That’s not how things worked. “Yes, it is, Fred and you know it!” you cry out, not realizing how loud you’ve gotten. “I don’t know what is happening between us, but whatever it is, I don’t like it,” you confess.

Maybe it was your emotions talking, but you couldn’t help but feel like Fred didn’t mind the distance between you two. Maybe he liked not being as close. Maybe he wanted to have more alone time away from you. But the thought of losing Fred, someone you had loved so dearly, so intimately, made you feel lightheaded. 

Fred stands up from the bed and you think he’s going to walk over to you and give you a hug, which you know you would gladly accept. You need his comfort right now. You need him to scoop you up and tell you that everything is going to be alright and that he’s sorry for making you feel so lonely and sad. But instead of him telling you all the things you want, no need, to hear, he speaks something different. “Maybe we’re just growing apart,” he suggests.

You turn to face him with so much hurt and pain in your eyes it was enough to shatter his heart twice. Your vision becomes blurry with tears as you swallow, pushing the lump in your throat down, blinking your tears away. What was happening? “We’re w-what?” you stutter.

“Growing apart,” he repeats. “(Y/N), we’re going to be graduating soon and we’re going to have to start thinking about what we want out of life. I don’t know if we want the same things,” he tells you as your heart is ripped out of your chest and stomped on at his words. All you can do is laugh in disbelief. “I’m serious. You always told me how after you graduated here you wanted to go back to school and become a Healer and have a family and move away from England...I just...Merlin, I don’t know how to say this...”

“Then don’t,” you cut him off as Fred looks at you, tears streaming down your face now. What he was saying to you know completely contradicted everything he had told you in the past. When you and Fred spoke of the future, he always spoke of you in it. He told you how he wanted to buy a house in the countryside and raise a big family together and take holiday vacations to America and do weekly visits to the Burrow. Fred always told you that no matter what happened, he wanted you in his future. And now, that was revealed to be a lie. “Fred, I don’t care about Healer school or moving away from England. What I want is you,” you tell him as you feel your chest tighten with pain. Now Fred’s eyes start to blur with tears as you look away from him, pulling at the roots of your hair in distress. It was like he changed overnight. “What...what happened, Fred? What happened that all of a sudden you tell me our futures don’t align?”

Fred wipes tears away from his eyes and takes a deep breath in. “It’s, um, it’s a long story, but um...the joke shoppe...it looks like it’s going to happen,” Fred tells you with a lighthearted chuckle. “Harry gave George and I the winnings from the Triwizard tournament to open up the joke shoppe. It’s happening. That’s why I’ve been distant these past few weeks. George and I have been planning like crazy for it. Testing products, crunching numbers, ordering stock, finding a location in London,” he rambles on. “Last night, the lot of us were testing out an...adult product and we didn’t realize the effects it would have...so that’s why we were like that in the kitchens.” 

His words make your heart swell for a moment. Fred’s dream was coming to fruition. His own joke shoppe. A place he could call his own with his best friend and twin brother. He could finally start creating the life he wanted and you couldn’t be happier for him. Except it seemed like that life he wanted didn’t have you in it. And that’s when your heart stopped swelling.

You nod your head, “That’s...brilliant, Fred. I’m so happy for you. Really. About the joke shoppe...that’s great news.” Fred gives you a hopeful smile, thinking that the worst was over. But it hadn’t even begun. “But, I don’t understand why you had to hide it from me. Did you think I was going to be upset with you? You know that I’ve wanted this for you just as badly as you have,” you tell him with the utmost sincerity which Fred knew to be fact. “You just couldn’t have me know about it for what reason exactly?”

Fred scratches the back of his neck before pacing around his room, trying to avoid the question, but you weren’t going anywhere. “I just...ugh,” he groans and throws his head back. “I just didn’t think that you would be interested. Besides, I need to focus on my work. I can’t have any distractions,” he says this last part without looking at you.

Your stomach is doing somersaults and you feel like you’ve just been lied to your entire relationship. Fred thought that you wouldn’t be interested? How was he going to determine what you were and weren’t interested in? “You’re joking,” you speak. “Fred, I will and always will support everything you do. I can’t believe you’d even think that I wouldn’t be interested in something you are so clearly passionate about,” you tell him as he gulps, knowing he was in the wrong for making such a claim. Even after all of these explanations of him ignoring you and diverting his attention elsewhere, there was something that just didn’t add up. “So, you asked Katie Bell to help test out products with you? Instead of me. Or Angie, who is seeing George. Or Alicia, who Lee has been flirting with since the dawn of time.”

Fred becomes visibly uncomfortable at the mention of Katie’s name and that’s when you shake your head, the whole thing becoming very clear to you know. This wasn’t about the shoppe anymore. This was about something else. “It was never like that, (Y/N),” Fred speaks.

“It was never like that or you never intended for it to happen?” you ask him, your voice cracking as you pace back and forth in his bedroom. He was distant with you because he was falling out of love. That was it. “Good Godric, I feel like I’m going crazy,” you let out a shaky laugh, unable to believe what was happening. The story just kept on unfolding.

Fred walks over to you quickly, trying to calm your fears, “Nothing happened between us! I swear on my life!”

You let out a laugh, “Sure! That makes me feel better!” Fred gulps. “But there was something that was there enough to make you push me away,” you speak lowly as Fred searches your teary eyes for something. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for; hope? forgiveness? love? friendship? You start pacing the room again, the venomous thoughts coming into your head as they vomit out of your mouth, “You know people told me not to get involved with you because you were a flirt, Fred. But I told them that you were different with me. You saw a future with me, but now I am proven wrong,” you tell him as he shakes his head in disbelief, trying to get you to stop talking, but you don’t. The words just tumble out. “I knew you’d love me as long as you wanted. And then someday, you’d leave me for somebody new,” you spill. “I just didn’t think that this someday would come so soon.”

“I don’t want Katie, (Y/N)! I don’t! Godric! I don’t!” he yells out. “(Y/N), I love you! You know that!” he screams as you just cry harder at his words. Over the past month, you didn’t feel his love. It felt like a chore to get an I love you out of him. “I’ve been distant because I’ve been working hard for my dream! My future! Why can’t you understand that I’m working for something I want!” he yells.

And the truth comes out.

Instinctively, you yell back, “Because how am I supposed to understand something you never told me! You never told me about the joke shoppe and your plans for it! Hell, you never told me Harry gave you the money! How am I supposed to support you when you don’t tell me how I can?!” you yell through tears. “Don’t you hear yourself! Your dream! Your future! You want! What about us?”

The both of you are crying now, you covering your mouth to prevent sobs from escaping, Fred sitting on his bed, hanging his head in his hands, sniffling. This all blew up so quickly and neither of you knew how to recover from this. The damage that the past month had caused was enough to put a gaping hole in your relationship that would be very hard to cover up. That was if you wanted to cover it up.

It’s silent for a while. The air is still and untouched. Fred on the edge of his bed, you sitting on the floor, back resting against the door. You want to get up and leave the room. But you don’t. You sit there. And think. 

And then Fred speaks. “Our futures don’t fit together,” he looks at you, eyes swollen and red matching yours. “We’ve tried to make them fit. But it won’t work.”

You laugh and shake your head, “Freddie...then you haven’t listened to anything I’ve ever told you.” He looks at you, twisting his face with confusion. “All I’ve ever wanted was you. I don’t care what happens after we graduate. Healer school was an idea. But you? You were never an idea. You were something I always wanted,” you confess as Fred gives you the saddest smile you’ve ever seen. “But if I’m not in your future...then...” you trail off, unable to finish the sentence. It was a nightmare. 

It’s silent again. 

But the longer you sit in silence, the more angry you get. Not at Fred. But at yourself. If you had known about what he wanted, what Fred wanted, you could have avoided all of his heartbreak and pain. But instead, Fred fed into your fantasy, this dream, this hazy future of yours and you let him. “I’m crazy,” you laugh as Fred look up at you. “I’m crazy for thinking that my love could hold you.”

Fred shakes his head, “No, (Y/N). You’re not. I love you and I always will.”

“Please don’t tell me that,” you close your eyes and bite down on your bottom lip to prevent the tears from falling again. You couldn’t let yourself hope for a future that didn’t exist with Fred. “This was never going to work. I’m crazy for trying,” you breath out before standing and brushing yourself off, Fred rising with you. “I’m crazy for crying,” you wipe away the remaining tears on your face.

Fred walks over to you as you place your hand on the door. “(Y/N),” he starts, “I never wanted us to end like this. You mean so much to me and I can’t just let you go like this,” he starts crying again, but you have to peel your eyes away. “We want to different things and we both deserve to be happy. Don’t you think?” he asks you. But his question sounded like he needed the reassurance from you. That he needed you to tell him that you agreed. To make it seem like you both wanted this break up.

Looking at Fred once more before you leave, you say, “We do want different things. You want your dream and I want you. But I can’t pretend like I’m happy that we are going our separate ways.” Fred nods his head, wiping his tears away. “I need space. And time. Away from you, Fred.”

And with that, you leave his room and start down the stairs back to your dormitory. You hide your face as best as you can from passing Gryffindor students, trying to be as incognito as possible. As you walk back to your room, you can’t help but think back on all of the happier times that you and Fred shared and think was it a lie? Was it all for show? It would be something that would keep you up at night. 

You were crazy about Fred Weasley, that was for certain. But even crazier for loving someone who didn’t want you as badly as you wanted them.

Walking up the stairs, you look out the window to see the fresh spring countryside. Admits all the chaos, the flowers were still blooming, the grass still growing, and the sun still shining. Spring was still here and new as ever. The snow had melted away to reveal the fruitful, lush land. A new start. Maybe it was time for you to have one too. 

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

Sunrises, Waffles, and Weddings ii

Pt.1, Pt. 3

One Shot Mini Series Au (No Powers) 

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Word Count: 2651 (Not My GIF)

A/N: Hey Guys! Thank you for reading and liking this story. This part Is a little more background. There will be two more parts in this mini series, I hope you enjoy it. <3

Tag list: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​

It's at times like this that you wish you couldn't read people so well… Although it wouldn't take a genius to know that Pietro wasn't happy. No, you'd just have to be insensitive, and you were anything but. "Alright why are you looking at me like that?" You ask calmly and he shakes his head. "No… no this is just all of a sudden." He tries to dismiss it. Now it's your turn to give him a look. "We've been honest with each other thus far… let's not change that now." You state firmly.  "I don't… like change I-i don't do well with it." You nod. He looks at you and smiles sadly. Slowly he finishes his beer and sighs heavily falling back on the couch next to you. "Everything is changing now… Paul and Sarah are married, and now you're leaving."  You nod, getting exactly where he was coming from and sigh. Tonight felt like one of those nights… long and sleepless. You take the beers and make your way to the back porch. "Change is scary." You admit turning slightly to see him. "I lost my parents too…" you mention quietly. Pietro looks at you surprised, noticing the pained expression in his eyes. "It's not what you went through, but still… My parents were great, loving, and so kind." A small smile grows on your face.

 "They walked out the door one day… and they never got to come back." The tears welling in your eyes. "I hated them for the longest time… I didn't understand that 'they're gone' meant they were dead." His eyes refused to meet yours. "I felt so guilty when I realized… but I was still so angry, so mad at them for having left that day." You sighed. "Are you still angry?" He asks, looking at you, tears threatening his eyes. "No, I'm sad… I'm sad that they missed all of it … Sarah's wedding, everything I guess." You look at him and ask him the same question. "I miss them all the time… and it makes me mad… guilty that I'm forgetting them." He answers. You sighed, taking a deep breath. "Are you mad at me?" You questioned. He shakes his head. "No… I-i I'm proud of you." He states. After that you both reached an understanding. Unspoken nonetheless you'd reached an understanding. Sitting in quiet contemplation you watched and enjoyed what would be the last time you did this. Reaching out for your hand he nods and gives it a good squeeze before letting go. 

Quiet chuckling knocked you out of your trance. Looking at Pietro he gives you a playful smirk. "You made quite the impression on my sister." He chuckles. "She will not stop talking about you. I think she likes you." He mentions. Your cheeks burn at the insinuation making him chuckle even louder. He gets quiet again lost in thought. "What if this week… we spend it like the old times? We can go to the lake, stay up all night and tell scary stories. The whole shabang!" You suggest watching his eyes light up. "For old times sake." You add making him laugh and nod. “That sounds amazing, you know what else would cheer me up?” You shake your head, telling him to continue. “If you would be kind enough to hook me up with that cute cousin of yours… What's her name? Martha? Mary? M…” You burst out laughing knowing exactly who he’s talking about. “Cousin May is a complete stick in the mud… She’s a stick with a stick up her ass!” You laugh at your own joke. He chuckles. “Not with me…” He states smugly, which completely shuts you up leaving you speechless. 

“As much as I love you Pietro you are not getting her number.” You say quickly. “You are better off without her, trust me.” He laughs nodding his head. “Fine then we’ll do your thing, a whole week of drinking and laying around sounds good.” He sits up quickly. "On one condition… Wanda gets to come." He states. "Of course she can come! " You say. "But only if she wants to come… you got to stop forcing her to do things." You state seriously. "oNLy iF sHe wAntS tO coMe" He mocks you. "Of course she'll want to come." You laugh, raising your hands in surrender. “Speaking of where's your lovely sister?” You ask curiously. He shrugs. “You know what would cheer me up?” You ask smugly. You burst out laughing watching as Pietro spits his beer out, coughing and trying to breathe. As soon as he calms down you pat his back, and look at him. “So what are the digits?” He shakes his head. “Right… I’ll just ask her myself then… I made ‘quite the impression’ Didn’t I?” You tease using his own words against him. 

The rest of the night was exactly as you had predicted. You drank yourselves silly, soon you found your way inside and crashed on the couch. “You’re sisterrr is um- she’s ah really perty.” You slur out looking directly into Pietro's eyes. He’s quiet for a long while, before he belches startling you. You stare at Pietro in astonishment looking at him like he was a god. “That’s- that’s gotta be a world record.” He states. You nod and lay back down. Staring at the ceiling in the room you hear Pietro begin to shuffle. “I think that I’m Wanda’s ‘Shawn’ and I-i just don't know” He says as he rubs his temples. “What do you mean?” He sighs deeply. “I feel like I’m cutting her wings. She’s always wanted to leave this place.” You nod. “I-i She just wants to make sure you’re okay.” You state confidently. He scoffs. “No offence Y/n but how could you know that?” You shake your head in denial. 

“I know more than you’d think… I stayed here for so long because I wanted to take care of Sarah.” You reveal making him look at you curiously. “I-i uhg. I don't need her to take care of me…” You hum. “Then tell her… It’s not going to hurt her feelings, and you’ll feel better about ‘setting her free’. I feel like she’d appreciate it.” You answer simply deep in thought. You didn't even notice when Pietro took off with his phone in hand making a beeline for the back porch. “I did it! I AM THE MAN!” He yells through the house triumphantly. You only nod your eyes heavy with sleep drifting off. You dream of everything, being together with your parents and Sarah. It was truly saddening you were happy as could be until you looked up and their faces were blank and devoid of any facial features. “Y/n?” You hear a soft voice calling your name. You jump up in a cold sweat, tears already forming in your eyes. You feel hands cup your cheeks forcing your eyes to look at them. 

You’re slightly surprised to see her intense green eyes looking back at you. Disregarding anything else you wrap your arms around her back and cry. She stiffens slightly in your hold but eventually hugs you back and rubs her hand on your back. “What did you dream about?” She asks carefully when you calm down. “I can’t, I can’t… I can’t remember them.” You pull away abruptly trying to calm your breathing. “You can’t remember who?” She asks. That's when Pietro walks in. “Y/n… What's happening?” You rub your face with your hands meeting his worried gaze. “I can’t remember them Piet…” Realization flashes his face. “Do-do you want to talk about it?” He questions softly. “No, no I just got really scared for a while back there.” Your breathing steadies and you begin to take in your surroundings. Your eyes suddenly land on her and you make a double take. “Oh God, I’m so sorry you had to see that.” You say apologizing for the scene. She chuckles slightly at our embarrassment. “It’s fine. I promise I wont think any less of you.” She teases. Gratefully you take the change in subject and stand. “What are you doing here anyways.” You ask. 

“Pietro Invited me late last night and said, and I quote ‘you should totally stop by, I set you free’ weird right?” She reflects. “No, not really It’s Pietro.” You state calmly. She nods. “But, we did want to invite you to hang out this week before I leave.” You say. She almost chokes on her own breath as her brain processes your words. “Wait… You’re leaving?” She questions softly. You nod a little concerned by the lack of reaction. “Uhm, Yes I’m leaving. You know I don’t have Shawn dragging me down anymore… And Sarah well she’s all taken care of now. There's nothing really left for me here.” You say honestly gauging her reactions. She seems hesitant, when her eyes meet yours a smile forms on her face. This made you really look at her… your eyebrows furrow trying to place it, the difference. This was not the smile that you saw all those weeks ago, this one seemed forced, dare you say fake. “That’s great, amazing really… You finally get to leave this place behind.” You grimace at her words and their harsh double meaning. The flash of hurt that passes in your features makes her stop in her tracks. She goes to say something, but you change the subject before she could. 

“So, are you spending the week with us… It’s going to be fun.” You ask, completely avoiding her gaze as you stand from the couch. Suddenly feeling the effects of your poor decisions last night, you rush towards the restroom and basically bury your face into the toilet. You hear shuffling and then your hair is out of your face. As you were about to say something another wave of nausea hit. As soon as you're done she pats your back. “Thank you.” You say sincerely. Changing the subject you notice her hand in yours. A small smile passes through your features, when you notice you give it a squeeze before letting go. You could have sworn she was blushing, but before you could make sure she was out of the room. Deciding to give her some space you get ready for the day, and most likely the week. After you’re ready you go down stairs, and find the siblings on the couch watching something on the Tv. “So… what are we watching?” You ask into Pietro's ear. You and Wanda share a laugh watching as Pietro screamed and jumped in his seat. “We were watching reruns while we waited on you.” Wanda states simply.

Pietro clearing his throat knocks you both out of the daze you were in. “Alright now that that’s over…” He says referring to the intense eye contact, he continues. “You two ready to go to the lake?” He asks with a smile forming on his face. You nod and smile when Pietro extends his hand towards you.  

Flash Back

“Hey, Y/n Is it okay if Paul brings his friend over?” You hear Sarah ask as she nears your door, leaning on the frame as she waits for your answer. “Yeah of course, but why are you asking me? This is your house as much as it is mine.” You state confused. She chuckles and shakes her head. Leaning closer to you she whispers in your ear. “Paul seems to think you two will hit it off.” She smiles as she pulls back a smug smile on her face as she watches your reaction. Blushing and stumbling over your words you manage to compose yourself before making a complete fool out of yourself. “Need I remind you that I am still dating Shawn?” You ask rhetorically, to which your sister immediately rolls her eyes at his mention. “Well, I don’t like him and neither does Paul. His friend's name is Pietro, I expect you to play nice.” Your sister warns before she wanders off into another part of the house. 

Hours later you heard the door open and the sound of laughter grew louder. Sighing internally you made your way towards the dining room where they were all apparently waiting for you. “Hi, I’m Pietro. It's really nice to finally meet you and put a face to the name.” You smile politely and take his hand. “Y/n, Likewise although I have only just heard of you?” You state glaring lightly at both Paul and Sarah. He chuckles nodding, but nonetheless he still pulls out your seat for you. Not long into that dinner Paul gets a ‘call’ informing him of an “emergency” that both he and Sarah had to tend to. After sitting in an uncomfortable silence for what felt like hours you both look up at the same time. Looking at each other for a moment you both break out laughing. “This is extremely pathetic even for Sarah.” You state chugging the rest of the wine in your glass. And to your surprise he nod s and agrees with you. So to pass the time you actually got to know each other, and by the end of it you were practically best friends.

Later Paul would grow to regret his decision to try and set you and Pietro up. You matched each other's energy, and you somehow just understood each other and clicked. A week after that disastrous first encounter you had, formulated and perfectly executed your special hand shake. “If I'd have known you’d steal my best friend I never would’ve introduced you two.” Paul states bitterly as he watches you greet Pietro. At that moment you saw the glint in Pietro's eyes and with the ghost of a nod you both proceeded to walk past him like he didn't exist. The foundation of your friendship with Pietro was your unrelenting desire to make Paul tick. Eventually you both ‘grew out’ of that phase, but still you remained best of friends

End Flashback 

Cutting back to present time here you were making a complete fool out of yourself in front of Wanda. You felt so accomplished the first time you and Pietro completed the hand shake, which at this point was not a handshake but a whole two minute choreography. You both had that ‘too much’ gene and you just kept adding to it throughout the years. You felt so badass, as you pulled off each of the steps, but are suddenly brought back to reality when you see Wanda laughing. You both stop and glare at the girl, still laughing. “You look like fools… Oh god and that little thing with the feet, and who thought it was a good Idea to sing that song?” You and Pietro both look at each other, it was a drunken addition of Singing We will rock you. “Don’t mind her Y/n, she lacks any class, and taste.” and easy as that the tables turned. You looked at Pietro and laughed. After that Pietro excused himself and made sure everything was ready for the trip. Before he actually left the house he yelled. “You only hate us cuz you aint us… Keep your jealousy in check.” You chuckle, shaking your head. But promptly stop when you realize Wand wasn't laughing with you.

In that moment realization hit you like a truck and you almost couldn't believe it. “Oh my god, you ARE jealous!” You stated as an amused grin found its way to your face. “Oh, shut up!” She didn't contradict you, but you could tell she was getting a little uncomfortable so you turned it down. “We can make a handshake if you want?” You state looking at her. She smiles and finally that beautiful, real, and truly breathtaking smile shone through. You could’ve died right then and there and you’d die happy. “I’d really like that…”

[imaginarypeteel]

Trust The Cat: Theo Raeken x reader

Requested by anonymous

Warnings: curse words, angst, fluff, bad plot

Word count: 3k

A/n: First of all, I am soooo sorry that this isn't very good. I will probably make a part 2 for this so maybe that'll be better.

Unlike most supernaturals in Beacon Hills, you weren't very close with the McCall Pack. Well to be fair you weren't that much of a nonhuman anyway, having 10% of yourself being witch and the other pure human. But still, you knew rituals that had to be done for certain things and plants bloomed longer around you. The rituals would maybe be useful for the pack but your parents strictly forbid you from talking to any supernatural other than your family's black familiar cat Diablerie, your father and your grandmother. Your grandmother being half-witch and father being quarter of a witch...or whatever you'd like to call it for men.

But still, at school, Scott had noticed that the almost dead anthuriums on the window had come back to life when you had sat beside them. So safe to say, right after school you were questioned by Scott and Stiles. Knowing full well who they were, you knew better than to run off. Scott would catch you anyway. So, you decided to stay and talk to them.

That had gotten you into being a secret informant if they were dealing with something. You were an absolute mythical creatures nerd so only by hearing few details about something abnormal happening, you already had a list of creatures who could do it.

So when dread doctors came around and you couldn't figure out at first who it was, Scott constantly checked in with you. That of course got Theo's attention.

And so, him seducing you and giving you all sorts of attention started. Your naive nerd self didn't think twice about it. Stiles warned you, he told you he was suspicious, he told you not to get involved with him, he told you something was very off with him. But his warnings were overrun by Theo's good looks and sweet words.

Little did you know, all he wanted was information from you. You had the bad habit of blabbing out secrets of all kind once you got talking. Could've been anything from something minor you did in kindergarten to pack secrets you were trusted with.

But when you finally saw his true colors, you were wrecked.

Why didn't you listen to Stiles? Why didn't you think everything over before rushing into the relationship like you usually do? Why would someone as good looking as Theo even want to be with you? You were a nerd for fuck's sake! Didn't even really have any friends. Yes, you were part of a nature club but that really wasn't something to stand out with.

Why didn't you listen to Diablerie when she attacked him? Every single person in your family knows to always listen to a familiar's intuition. In this case Diablerie knowing that Theo is not to be trusted.

After finding out about Theo's betrayal - and after his sister had dragged him away - you distanced yourself from the pack, afraid you'd blab out more secrets.

Other than Stiles, none of them could even come into your garden. Your grandmother and father had set all sorts of traps and spells over your living quarters. If anyone who didn't have the blood of your great-grandmother but was a supernatural even dared to put their pinky toe over the invisible border, they'd quite literally fall six feet into the ground.

~~~

You had just gotten back from your long trip to Monaco with your family.

With great hesitation, you had sneaked off to Scott's house. Telling your nosy mother that you were going to the library. Wouldn't say you were lying since that was your plan after.

Now you were here, wanting to get this over with before Diablerie would somehow send a signal to your mom that in fact no, you weren't at the library like you told her. The damn cat was very cute and huge help very often but was also too loyal to your parents for your good. Her being able to know everything about everyone in your family didn't help at all.

"Let's get this over with, I don't have much time until Diablerie-" you cut off as your e/c eyes connected with certain blue ones. Mouth still open, eyes growing wide, you slowly turned your body towards Stiles before grabbing him by the ear and dragging him to another room, muttering, "Let's have a word."

You shut the door after letting his ear go. Seething, you turned towards the brunette boy who was rubbing his ear. "What the actual FUCK STILES?!" you hissed like a snake.

"Look, I know I was the one to say he is dangerous and off and all that and he was. I was right, nobody wants to listen to me though," he gave you an accusing look but your angry expression didn't waver, if anything, it got even more furious. "Okay, okay. So, Liam and Hayden might have released Theo because, well, ask them." You blinked. What the hell? What were they thinking?!

"Stiles what the hell were you dealing with here?" You asked. "The Wild Hunt," he simply answered. Your mythology nerd self got switched on by those three words. "The Wild Hunt? Like the English type? Or the Norse like? Or some else type?" your curiosity made you forget your lying bitch of an ex for sometime. Stiles was at loss of an answer, "Uuuuuummm, I dunno, just Wild Hunt?" You rolled your eyes, reason for this conversation coming back to you. "Alright, well why is he still here?" You asked furiously. You were scared actually, scared of Theo because after you had gotten to know everything he could do, everything he had done, anyone in their right mind would be scared.

"Because he has changed?" Stiles replied as if it was an obvious thing. "HOW CAN YOU KNOW THAT?" you yelled. Actually yelled. You didn't need to be a were-something to be able to here that from outside of the bedroom the two of you 'hid' in.

"Listen Y/n, I know it may be hard to believe but he took away Gabe's pain before he passed. And you know a bond needs to be created for that. And he-he sacrificed himself basically and-" Stiles sighed when he saw your wide eyes staring back at him, they were getting glossy. Did he really do all that? Had he changed? Was it a game again? Was it a lie? But if he really took away Gabe's - whoever that is but seems like a good guy - pain then it can't be a lie. Right?

You were skeptical. Your trust had been broken, your heart had been broken, your soul had been broken. All by Theo Raeken. Were you really up for trusting him to be near the others and yourself? To be free?

"I... I should go," you mumbled. Silently, you opened the door and walked out. Every single person in the living room was looking at you, as you rushed through it. Grabbing your backpack. For a moment, your eyes met with Theo's. He looks cute with his new hair. Wait, what the fuck am I thinking? He smiled at you, making you frown. You looked away and walked out of the house, muttering a 'bye' in the process.

~~~

At home, you were reading "The Lunar Chronicles: Cinder." If staring at a book with a troubled face, thinking about a certain someone else and not memorizing any words from the pages counts as reading.

Giving up on trying to read, you grabbed your phone from beside you. You went on instagram, curious on why you have a notification there because you had no viral life either. You were horrible at taking selfies, so no basic girl posts from you, not a big meme maker nor artist who posts their stuff. You just followed your friends and some tags.

Turns out the notification was a follow request.

From Theo.

Your thumb stood over the Accept button. Your breath hitching when you realized that his profile picture was of you two making silly faces. You took your finger away and pressed the back button.

Sighing you picked up the book again. "Diablerie, what do I do?" The black feline rose her head. "Meow?" As you were petting the she-cat's head, you let out another sigh.

"You remember Theo right?"

"Meow."

"Well he is back."

"Meow," Diablerie nodded. What, she knew?

"And he apparently is different."

"Mow?" The familiar stood up and cocked her head to the side, as if asking either 'if you believed that?' or 'is that true?'

"I- I don't know. I mean Stiles believes that and you know he was right the last time."

Diablerie was quiet for sometime, staring at your blanket but not really because her gaze was unfocused. She was standing still on the blanket, tail twitching, ears facing different directions and tail tip twitching but not in an aggressive way. You realized that she was thinking.

You gazed at the queen for sometime before she finally returned her gaze back to you. "Meow!" she sounded determined but you had no idea what she just said. "Um..."

Diablerie gave you an unimpressed look when after 5minutes, you still hadn't realized what she told you.

The feline hopped down from your bed and headed towards your closet, tail high. You were confused on what the heck she was doing. With some difficulties, the she-cat climbed to where you kept your shirts. One of Theo's old shirts is there. Your e/c eyes widened as you remembered that. That shirt had been something that you lived your hate and betrayal because of a certain blue-eyed boy out on when he was dragged away by his sister. It was torn, absolutely ragged, had burn marks and looked very ugly with the stains of uncountable different things on it.

Once you realized what Diablerie was looking for, you got off the bed and went to help the familiar.

You pulled the drawer back and stuck your hand down to try and find the ragged piece of clothing. You didn't even know why you kept it, with your own clean shirts nevertheless.

The miniature panther like animal balanced herself on the side of the drawer as you pulled it and hopped down when you were pushing it back in and walking back to the bed.

Placing it on the bed, you gave the cat a face full of unanswered questions. With no difficulty whatsoever, Diablerie hopped back on the bed

She set her paw gently on the shirt. Still not getting it, you stared at your cat cluelessly.

"Theo?"

"Meow."

"Umm..."

Diablerie had a scowl on her raven black face at your response.

She placed her paw yet again on the ragged piece of fabric and then did a spin.

"Spin Theo?"

The cat shook her head.

Diablerie hopped down from the bed again and walked out of your room. Dumbfoundedly, you just stared after her in confusion.

As you were waiting for Diablerie to come back, your phone buzzed. Looking down, you saw a notification pop up, saying that you had a message.

Unknown: «Hey!»

The message was from an unknown number which freaked you out. Was this a scam? Had you accidentally deleted someone's contact? Was there a proje- no you weren't in school anymore.

As you were debating on if you should answer or not, another text came through.

Unknown: «It's Theo»

You froze. No, no way. No way in hell that he is texting you now.

Unknown: «Just wanted to let you know that this is my new number»

Unknown: «You can message and call me anytime you want»

Unknown: «I'm sorry»

You gulped, staring at the last message as your eyesight blurred, tears fighting to break free. Finally, few trailed down your cheeks. Who were you kidding? You weren't over it.

You wanted to believe that he really was sorry but how could you know that he wasn't using you this time?

Soft fur being rubbed against your arm broke you out of your thoughts. "Meow."

Diablerie placed something on your lap. You rubbed your eyes to see what the familiar brought. It was a picture of her and you. It was of your 12th birthday, when your grandmother had brought Diablerie to your family after the raven Sombra had passed. Diablerie had been only 8 months old then but was already wiser than you.

"You?" It took you few moments before it clicked. "You want to meet him?" Diablerie purred happily as a confirmation to your words.

You gulped, e/c eyes returning to the picture in hand.

"Mow."

The feline was staring at your phone screen that was darkening, about to close, texts from Theo open.

"I-Okay, okay, I'll do it."

Hands shaking, you grabbed your phone and quickly tapped on the screen so it wouldn't turn off.

The nessage you were about to send had to be deleted many times because you just couldn't touch the right keys. Heart hammering, you pressed send.

You: «Meet me tomorrow at 6pm, you know where»

Saving his number, you finally let yourself breath.

Theo: «Okay! Sounds great😁»

~~~

"And where are you going?" your little sister asked suspiciously just as you were about to run out the door.

"Out. Didn't know you were blind. Sis, tell mom to get you glasses," you rushed out. Your sister threw a glare your way. "So you of all people are going out looking all fancy just because? As if."

Smiling innocently, you flipped her off before shutting the door.

Diablerie was napping on the gate but rose her head when you neared. "Okay, let's go."

You didn't even know why you had put on the best clothes you could find and put on makeup. You weren't trying to impress Theo, right? You were just checking if he was trustworthy. I hope he is.

~~~

It was 5:55pm when you stepped into the small clearing in the forest. You could see Theo there, he had flowers in his hands and was dressed in a pretty casual way. Now you felt embarrassed that you had put in so much effort to look nice. You thought about backing out and going away but a certain someone was already trotting towards the man, whip like tail held high.

Theo heard the feather like steps Diablerie took in the grass and his eyes widened. He straightened his back. His last encounter with the cat hadn't been positive and truth be told, he feared the cat.

You could see the nervousness in your ex's face and were now convinced that he was out for no good and planning something again. But then, then you saw the tiger lilies in his hands and your heart warmed up. They were your favorites and he remembered it.

Now a bit more confident, you walked up to him. Still eyeing the cat with one eye, he gazed at you with the other.

"Y/n! Hi, you look great!" He smiled widely. "Here, these are your favorites, right?" he stepped closer to you and stretched out the hand that was gripping the flowers. "Yeah... Thanks," you accepted the tiger lilies, keeping your eyes on Diablerie. The cat did few circles around Theo, padded a bit closer and then sniffed him. "Uhm..." the blue-eyed man was confused and gave you a questioning look. The only response he got was an awkward smile from you. Deep down, you knew that you hoped that Diablerie would approve of him.

As the cat took more and more time to give her approval, you were beginning to think that Theo hadn't changed and was still untrustworthy and evil. But just as you wanted to turn around and run away, Diablerie let out a pleased purr and rubbed her body against Theo's legs. He was confused and surprised while a genuine smile stretched onto your face. The warm feeling of happiness spread throughout your body. He had changed, for real.

"You really have changed," you mumbled and - surprising both yourself and Theo - threw yourself onto him, arms wrapped around his built torso and face buried into his chest, squeezing the life out of him. Slowly, the man wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your hair. "I have no idea what just happened but I'm not complaining," he laughed.

You grinned.

"Now, Theo, you better tell me what the hell happened while I was tanning in Monaco?" you demanded curiously as you pulled away to look up at him. The blue-eyed man laughed, "Well..."

~~~

"Theo, you are not sleeping in your truck," you told him sternly. "Well I can't go anywhere else, babe," he shrugged. "Surely you have friends here now who you can stay with." Theo tongued his cheek, "But I can't stay with them forever Y/n. I missed school so much that I can't graduate, I can't go to college and literally no one will hire me." You stared at him while chewing on your cheek, "Then... Go back to school?"

"Can't."

"Why?"

"One word, broke."

"Then, we will find a way to get you a job but you will not sleep in your truck for the rest of your life Theo!"

Theo sighed but smiled at you, "Okay." He ran his hand through your hair before it froze on your cheek, he pulled you towards him a bit and kissed your forehead. "But you, you will go to sleep."

You chuckled, "Fine," you giggled, dragging out the i.

As you pulled away, you stared at him with your sparkling e/c eyes for sometime. "Theo, I like your new hair, you better keep it," you said all of a sudden. When you realized that you had said it out loud, you blushed while Theo laughed. "Well I'm glad to hear me not having enough money to get a haircut is up to your liking." He shut up when you kissed his cheeks and ran back towards your house.

He stood there until the door to your house closed behind Diablerie and you. Once again, a sigh left the blue-eyed boy.

He will try to get a job again tomorrow.

He will try to be up to your parents liking because he knew they absolutely despised him right now.

He will try but he can't promise anything.

~~~

It was 8 months later when Theo finally got a job. You had moved to New York to study Archaeology.

You had a job there to support yourself as a delivery driver for Domino's. The two of you kept a long distance relationship since neither of you had enough money to fly Theo over to the Big Apple.

A Spanish restaurant decided to give him a chance and you were both ecstatic when you got the news. "I'm so proud of you, baby," you cheered over Skype. "The people there seemed very nice, though I have to admit, I accidentally bumped into the Chef there already. A fiery Latina, so I better keep up my best behavior." The both of you laughed.

"How are the other doing?" You asked with a warm smile. "Well other than Stiles, I have no idea. You know almost everyone left to chase their dreams. Not that the supernaturals care, pretty sure Scott will return soon. Shit will go crazy soon." Your boyfriend's turned chalk white as he realized that he let it slip.

Worry clouded your face, "Theo... What's going on?"

[yoshichao]

the Smashers and their Host - Chapter ??? Preview

Series: Super Smash Bros.

Characters: Reader, Literally Everyone In Super Smash Bros Ultimate

Summary:  You’re an inter-dimensional being that owns a huge estate situated on the cusp of spacetime. You’ve been asked to rent out your mansion for the upcoming Super Smash Bros. tournament. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Reader-Insert, Romantic & Platonic Harem, Comedy, Fluff, No Smut

Read the fic here!

[hi a year ago i was writing a chapter about characters getting sick but then a pandemic happened, making this no longer as fun to write. as a result i’m not going to be posting this one for awhile... but i’m going to share the beginning portion of it anyways. hope you enjoy?]

"Room service!" you call out, peeking into the room with a friendly smile and a tray in your hands. Upon your arrival, Marth sits up in his bed and tries to offer a smile in return... but it is visibly weak, marred by puffy eyes and a flushed face.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise." The Altean prince's voice sounds different from what you're used to. It sounds like he has a stuffed nose... which he does, of course. "If anyone was to be bringing me soup, I would have expected it to be Peach."

You step fully into the room, nudging the door shut behind you with your hip before making your way over to the bed where the prince lies. "It was Peach's idea to make soup for everyone," you confirm, "but after we started delivering it to people, I think the full brunt of the illness hit her too and I told her to go lay down."

Upon discovering that over half the Smashers residing in your mansion had come down with a cold, you took it upon yourself to be a good host and play a part in helping everyone make a full recovery. Of course, having lived alone and illness-free for god-knows-how-long, you were a bit at a loss at what to do... and thankfully Peach was all-too-happy to lend a hand. You recall she seemed tired from the beginning but did her very best to hide it, and an hour and a cauldron of hot soup later, the exhaustion seemed to hit the princess all at once. It took some doing, but you eventually managed to convince her that you and the rest of the team could take it from there. She (and Samus, who was rooming with her while mansion repairs were still being done) was one of the first people you delivered to, and her warm, grateful smile was enough to convince you that you could do this. You can trek across the mansion for hours to deliver supplies to forty or so different people all day.

Even with your handy "shortcuts", it's more draining than you thought.

"Oh dear." Marth chuckles weakly at your explanation. "Thinking about it... for as long as we've been in Smash together, I don't think I've ever seen her fall ill before... I suppose I didn't even imagine it happening to her."

You have a feeling that Peach has gotten sick in the past - she is just very good at hiding it and powering through it. You're certain she would have continued doing that this time as well had you not convinced her otherwise. However, instead of saying any of this, you simply shrug while placing the tray on the bedside table.

"Well, she is a princess. You can't have royalty looking all unkempt and snotty - that wouldn't be right at all."

Marth needs a moment before he realizes… you are making a jab at him. The prince is flustered for a moment before he lets out a laugh, which you respond in turn with a cheeky grin.

“Do I look that bad?”

He is visibly unwell, but you feel inclined to soften the blow to his vanity. “Nah, I’m just teasing. Anything else you need before I go?” You can’t help but glance around Marth’s room under the guise of checking if anything in particular is missing. You respect your guests’ privacy, so you haven’t been in many of their rooms after the move-in - including Marth’s. His room is fairly plain and orderly - the only thing that really screams “Marth” in here is the mannequin that is adorned with his familiar Smash garb. Said mannequin also holds his sword, Falchion. You suppose storing an outfit with armour on it in this fashion is easier than trying to keep it in the closet or in a drawer. Though considering you don’t see any other articles of clothing lying about, perhaps the closet is just full?

...How many clothes does this guy have?

You’re curious now, but decide not to pry.

“Thank you, but I should be fine,” Marth replies, bringing your attention back to him. “You’ve done enough already. Merely visiting me was plenty - you’ve certainly been a sight for sore eyes.”

For a moment, you’re flustered… but then you remember this man is currently sick in bed. His thoughts are probably a bit jumbled and unfiltered. And really, who wouldn’t feel better knowing there was someone bringing them soup? Beauty comes from kindness and within, et cetera et cetera. All these excuses and more fill your head as you effortlessly wave away Marth’s silly words - you, a sight?! Ha ha! Why, isn’t that saying often used platonically as well? Yes? Maybe? You are drawing a blank.

You’re so lost in denial that you forget to respond aloud. Marth seems to take your silence and (unbeknownst to you) goofy smile the wrong(?) way and starts stammering out an apology, possibly growing even more embarrassed than you are.

“I-I didn’t mean… What I meant by that was… Well, it’s not that I didn’t mean it, but I mean, I find you… quite… um…”

“If you want a sight, next time you need something I’ll be sure to send in the cutest maid we have on staff,” you joke, easily shifting the conversation to more comfortable territory. Marth relaxes at the topic shift and chuckles lightly, still looking a bit embarrassed.

“I’ll never live that moment down, will I?”

“Nope!” Your first embarrassing encounter with any of the Smashers has been so diluted by increasingly hectic and bizarre moments that you find it more funny than embarrassing these days. Well, you say “these days” like it wasn’t just a couple weeks ago that that happened… So much has happened since then that it feels like it has almost been two whole years! Really, it feels like the tournament should have started by now. Crazy how time works like that, huh? Ha ha.

Anyways.

“Anyways,” you say aloud, not sure where that oddly guilty train of thought came from. It was almost like someone was trying to speak through you to express their feelings. But that’s ridiculous! Best not to think about it anymore. “I’ve got more soup deliveries to make, so if you need anything, just…”

Oh. Oh wait you don’t have a system in place for this, do you? And you’re pretty sure most of the Smashers don’t have cell phones… Gah, you knew you should have implemented an internal phone line! Maybe you can ask Master Hand to sneak it in there while doing mansion renovations for future needs. If you do it, you’d have to do it in every single room one by one, which sounds exhausting. You already have a lot on your plate today!

“Don’t worry,” Marth says, “it’s only a cold. If I need anything, I have enough strength to get it myself.”

You open your mouth to protest but… actually, he has a point. It’s not like anyone seems to be sick with the flu or anything. And most of the Smashers are adults - they are all perfectly capable of getting up and retrieving anything they may need or want. Well, R.I.P. to anyone staying on the top floor because you still don’t have an elevator, but… they can at least leave a message on the door or something. Whatever.

This is already proving to be a very good learning experience at how unsuitable your mansion is in its current state for hosting this many people. You’ll have enough experience and knowledge by the end of this that you could run a rental business in your realm if you wanted.

“Well, if anything changes and you start having trouble, just leave a note outside the door,” you decide definitively. Going door-to-door to check on people would be tiring (and you’d also risk disturbing people who are sleeping) - but taking a walk through the halls every couple hours to check for notes or whatever? Easy. Even your shortcut-less partners could manage that.

Speaking of your partners, you should really be getting a move on.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Marth replies, wordlessly giving you the go ahead to skedaddle on outta here. “Thank you again for this.”

And he gives you such a kind and warm smile despite his ailment that you are practically stumbling out of the door, unable to figure out why it feels like there are butterflies inside you.

...Helping people out is good. That’s all.

Shaking away the strange feelings this encounter brought, you pop yourself back into the kitchen, where you are instantly greeted with the smell of hot soup. The room is warm thanks to the literal cauldron y’all made a day’s worth of soup in with Peach’s help, which remains on perpetual heat. There are only two Smashers in the room right now: femme Robin, who is using a laddle to scoop the soup into bowls and prepare the trays for delivery, and R.O.B., who is just on his way out with a tray balanced on his metallic arms. He stops when he sees you appear from nothingness, staring silently at you for a moment before turning his head back to a neutral position and rolling out of the room. Shrugging off the encounter, you approach Robin and the table of food trays.

“A couple more down - how many are left?” You spot the stack of trays that haven’t been prepared yet, each with a Smasher’s name stickied onto them. “Oh. That’s how many…”

“You work a lot faster than the boys do,” Robin chuckles, her voice notably different-sounding than usual. You’re pretty sure she’s sick too, but unlike Peach, she hasn’t been overwhelmed by it yet and waves away any concerns you’ve thrown her way. “R.O.B. can only carry one order at a time, and the Pikmin keep spilling or dropping things… or eating it. Shulk is… well, I think the stairs are too much for him.”

“That’s understandable,” you chuckle. Yeah, your team is not the greatest for this job. But you’re still thankful for the help. “You are giving him orders for people on the lower floors though, right?”

Robin gives you A Look before gesturing to the soup and the pile of crackers and bread… among other world-specific foods that are apparently good to eat when sick. “Hey, I’m busy putting everything together here! I don’t have time to tell everyone where to go! Just pick up a tray and go, that’s what I’ve been saying.”

Oh geez, not even you’re completely familiar with the rooms that the Smashers chose for themselves. You can imagine Shulk having to search every floor just to find the name he’s been looking for is on the top… Thankfully Peach managed to round up any and all roommate scenarios before leaving to rest, or else this could be even more hectic.

“Fair enough,” you relent, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the others’ hardships. It is admittedly funny to think about, but you intend to work hard enough so no one tires themselves out at what would otherwise be an endless task. You’re hoping that after this first round, you’ll all have a break when you only have to deal with specific orders… until dinner time, of course. Then this chaos will begin again.

“Ugh, and no one has even delivered food to my poor, sweet Lucy yet!” Robin groans dramatically, hand to her head like she’s acting in a movie. “Here I am, selflessly toiling away for the sake of everyone else, while my only daughter continues to suffer! Oh, won’t somebody deliver this soup to her in my stead?”

“Uh… Yeah, sure, I could do that. Or if you’d want I could stay here while you--”

“Oh you will?!” Robin cuts you off before you can finish, grinning as she scoops up the tray with Lucina’s name taped onto it and forces it into your arms. “You’re a lifesaver! A knight in shining armour! I’m sure she will be SO happy to know someone as sweet as you is looking out for her…”

With an awkward (but amused) hum, you accept the tray and adjust it so you’ll be able to grab a couple more. Before you can start browsing the selection though, Robin starts coughing - first soft, but then she’s leaning over and hacking into her arm. Uh oh. “Robin, why don’t you go lie down? I think the rest of us can take care of things from here.”

“No no, I’m fine. Really,” she says, considerably less bombastic than before as she manages a smile. You can tell that it’s forced. “Someone has to prepare all this food and look after the kitchen!”

She’s… not exaggerating. Olimar’s Pikmin tend to sample the selection any time they’re in here to pick up another delivery. And then there was the one time Kirby came in today…

...Best not to think about that nightmare.

“Well… maybe you can at least take a break?” you suggest, not wanting her condition to get any worse via pushing herself too hard. You all may need the help, but… you’re sure you can manage! “There aren’t too many trays left to prepare--” Ten isn’t much, right? How much work could it possibly be to put food on a tray? “--and we could just have Shulk or R.O.B. watch the kitchen.” You’d volunteer yourself, but like Robin said, you kind of are the most efficient person on hand right now. Even Palutena has this cold - there’s no one with teleportation powers well enough to lend a hand.

Robin puts a hand to her face, clearly considering your offer. You notice how tired she looks now that she’s not overcompensating her energy to hide it. “Oh, but…”

“You could bring a tray with you,” you tempt. “Go lie down, eat, maybe read or watch a movie? Then maybe in an hour if you feel alright you can come back…?”

The tactician is silent, envisioning the possibilities you are proposing. Finally, she nods and steals a random tray, ripping off the name and sticking it on one of the empty ones. “Alright, you got me. I’m convinced. Say hi to Lucy for me, okay?!”

With a cheeky grin, she leaves the room with food in tow. Briefly you wonder if she had been looking for an excuse to go sit down for a while now…

After Robin is gone, you start browsing the trays so you can deliver more than one order in a single trip. Should you try for a bunch on the same floor as Lucina, or should you grab some for higher floors instead so your partners can catch a break? Just as you think you’ve made a decision, a certain Monado Boy enters the room with an empty food trolley.

“I ran into Robin on the way here,” Shulk says in lieu of a greeting. He looks tired, but devoid of any cold symptoms that everyone else seems to have. “She said she was taking a break but seemed rather… excited about it. I don’t suppose that means we’re down another member?”

“I guess we’ll find out if she comes back or not,” you chuckle. You’re pretty sure Robin is a fairly reliable person but… she can be rather sneaky about her true intentions. “Either way, I think we’ll be fine! We can do this!”

Your positivity is infectious; Shulk returns the smile, albeit weaker than yours. While you’re certain he’s probably just tired from running around so much to help people, you can’t help but ask him again:

“Hey, are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re not sick too or anything?”

Shulk shakes his head. “I told you before, I don’t seem to have it. Really, I don’t feel sick at all.”

When you asked him earlier, he told you that he had a weird history of never getting sick at the same time as his friends. He just never seemed to catch the same bugs as them. His explanation for it was as good as yours - which was no explanation, because he doesn’t know how it happens either. Just luck and coincidence, probably. When you try to imagine Smashers with strong immune systems, Shulk would have never been at the top of the list. He just… he looks so frail! But you can’t fight the facts: he’s one of the only human Smashers who is still perfectly healthy right now.

“How about you?” Shulk asks, returning the question. “You haven’t started feeling sick, right?”

He must be worried that you are going to ditch him too. “Nope! Like I said earlier: I don’t get sick. Like, at all.” You honestly can’t remember the last time you had gotten sick. Certainly not since you “moved into” this world, which was… well, it’s been awhile! Assumedly, it’s just one of the many perks of who you are and the realm you live in. Regardless, it’s been long enough that you’re convinced that “virus immunity” is one of your many undefined abilities.

Unfortunately for you, “not being a clumsy fool” is not one of your cool superpowers.

“Oh no!” You let down your guard for just a moment and accidentally let the trays in your hands tip, dumping all the food and utensils onto the ground. Man, you’ve been doing so good today! Shulk helps you clean it up, but a certain issue remains.

"Ugh, what if specific foods were on those?" you bemoan aloud. "I can't remember what came from each tray…" And you don't know anyone's tastes well enough to remake them. Though you suppose you could just leave the soup plain… put a bit of everything on the side…

"Who were they for?"

"Lucina, Yoshi, and Villager."

"In that case, I think…" Shulk picks up a blue-and-white bag among the mess. "...this is for Villager."

This makes perfect sense. "Now for Yoshi… probably all the fruit?”

Shulk ponders for a second, then nods. This also makes perfect sense. The two of you put all the bananas, berries, and peppers onto Yoshi’s tray.

“That just leaves the soup for Lucina!” You grin and rush over to the still-warm soup pot and fill a new bowl. “That was easier than I thought.” You are pretty sure you didn’t make any mistakes whatsoever. Except… wait a minute.

“Didn’t I deliver this earlier?” At your query, Shulk glances over to the particular tray you’re pointing at. It’s labelled for Peach and Samus, but you’re certain that this was one of the first deliveries you made!

...Wasn’t it?

“Um.” Shulk seems just as puzzled as you were. “Honestly, I’m not sure…”

You try to reach further back into your memory, but it seems to get further and further the more you try. Today’s events have been a blur of chaos and confusion. “...I guess I’ll just do it again??” It doesn’t matter if you can’t remember doing it, if the tray is here then that means you have to deliver it! You pick up the tray and put it on your trolley, then start loading the trolley up with more and more trays until it’s full.

“Oops, I almost forgot…” You turn and look at Shulk, who is also loading up a trolley. “Shulk, can you take Lucina’s? Robin asked me to, but I’m out of space.”

The two of them seem like good friends anyways, you’re sure Lucina will be more happy to see Shulk than to see you.

“Sure thing.”

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you start pushing your food trolley out of the room. As soon as you’ve exited the kitchen, you warp to the second floor of the mansion. Static dances on your skin from the instant transmission, but you ignore it as you approach Peach’s room.

[hello again its me, this is the end of the preview. there wasn’t much to it and it ends on such a Nothing note but i hope you liked it regardless. one day this will end up in the fic, but not anytime soon i think lol. i hope you have a good day/night.]

[eratobard]

Saved by the Bell: Chapter 6

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geraskier, Geralt x Jaskier

Rating: G

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

~~~

Jaskier seemed more focused after he had eaten a few of the apple slices. Geralt found it cute how Jaskier stuck out his tongue when he was concentrating. Jaskier caught Geralt staring at him and winked, “You almost got your three done?”

Geralt averted his gaze and nodded, “Uh yes.” He had been done with the worksheet for a while.

“Great, me too!” Jaskier quickly filled out another question. “Done!” He jumped off the bed and skipped to his bedroom door, “Wanna do some cartwheels outside?”

Geralt nodded as he followed him outside. He watched as Jaskier bent forward, standing on his hands. His legs wobbled a bit as he walked around in the grass. Jaskier beamed, his face turning a bit red from the blood rushing to it, “What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to join?”

“I don’t… know how to cartwheel, or do a handstand,” Geralt mumbled.

“Oh!” Jaskier flipped back to his feet. “I can show you if you want.” Some of his hair was still stuck up in places. He pulled his shirt back down over his stomach.

“Okay…”

Jaskier held up his hands as he stood in front of Geralt, “First thing, put up your hands, and make a pose.” He stuck his right leg out and cocked his hip. He glanced over his shoulder, “The pose is important for confidence. You try.”

Geralt felt silly, but he listened anyway, putting his hands up, and attempting to mimic Jaskier’s pose. Jaskier watched him, hands on his hips, “Good, but the pose should be something you are comfortable with. You look scared.”

Geralt blushed, “I feel nervous.”

Jaskier placed his hand on his shoulders, “Don’t be. Here. Loosen up, like this.” He jumped slightly while shaking his arms and legs, rolling his neck.

Geralt exhaled while following Jaskier’s lead. He did feel a bit better. “I think I’m ready now…” He held up his hands and struck a pose. He looked more like a giant ‘X’ but it was a pose he was comfortable with. “What now?”

“Now you cartwheel!” Jaskier stood in front of Geralt again. He got into stance then rotated his body into a cartwheel. He made it look so easy. Jaskier twirled around to face him. “Ta-dah! Easy!”

Geralt frowned in concentration. He twisted to the side, but fumbled, only completing half of the cartwheel. He grunted as he tried to right himself.

Jaskier clapped in excitement, “That was a great first try! If you want to try again, I could spot you.”

“Spot me?” Geralt moved his long hair out of his face.

“Yeah, I can hold your legs, or stand by for support so you don’t fall.”

Geralt’s face grew warm at the thought of Jaskier holding onto his ankles. “Um, okay.” He moved into position again, with Jaskier facing him.

Jaskier winked, “Ready?” Geralt nodded and performed the cartwheel again. Jaskier steadied his legs and helped lead him through the cartwheel. He cheered when Geralt successfully completed it. “That was awesome! You did great.”

Geralt chuckled and shook his head, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jaskier grinned, slinging his arm around Geralt, “That doesn’t take away your accomplishment. Sometimes people need help. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Julian, your break time is up. Time to get back to your homework,” Jaskier’s dad called from a window.

“Dad!” Jaskier whined, “I told you to call me Jaskier.”

“Sorry, I slipped. I’ll be more careful. Come inside. I made some lemonade.”

“Lemonade!” Jaskier cheered as he ran inside. He waved back at Geralt, “Come on, Dad’s lemonade is the best.”

The two sat at the kitchen bar as they gulped down the lemonade. Geralt hummed in contentment, “This is really good. Thank you Mr. Pankratz.”

Jaskier’s dad nodded, “No problem, glad you like it.”

Jaskier hopped down from the stool when he finished his lemonade off. “Alright! Back to work!”

“You need to finish 8 questions this time.”

“Noo~,” Jaskier flopped his head against the counter, covering his face with his arms, “That’s too many…”

Jaskier’s dad gently patted his back, “Do your best. If you need to break it up that’s fine, but try for eight.” He smiled at Geralt, “Thank you for helping Jaskier with his homework.”

Jaskier huffed and lifted his head, “I’m helping him too.”

Geralt nodded, “Yes, he is.”

Mr. Pankratz chuckled and ruffled Jaskier’s hair, “I’m glad. Try to finish up your homework. Your mother will be home soon.”

Jaskier grumbled as he adjusted his hair, “Fiiiine.” He smiled as he wrapped an arm around Geralt’s, “Let’s go finish our homework. Then we can play a game or something.”

Geralt’s skin tingled where Jaskier was touching his arm. With how affectionate Jaskier was, he thought he would have gotten used to his touch by now. It still gave him butterflies in his stomach. 

They had been working for a bit when he informed Jaskier he had to go to the bathroom. Jaskier pointed in the direction of the bathroom, “Off the right of the kitchen. You can’t miss it, but if you do, dad can point you in the right direction.”

Geralt nodded and followed where he had indicated. He was right, it hadn’t been hard to find. As he entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him he heard a high screeching noise.

“Darling~! I’m home!”

‘It must be Jaskier’s mom,’ Geralt thought as he tried to complete his business in the bathroom.

Jaskier’s dad grunted in response. Geralt pictured Mrs. Pankratz leaning on her husband dramatically as she spoke, “Oh you brute! Is that how you greet your wife after not seeing her for so long?” Geralt imagined Jaskier’s mother was where he got most of his dramatic behavior from.

“I saw you this morning.”

Mrs. Pankratz gasped, “How cruel… where is my son? Surely he will give me the love and attention I deserve.”

“He’s in his room doing homework. He has a friend over, so try not to embarrass him.”

“Me? Embarrass him?” she sounded offended. “I would never!”

Jaskier’s dad chuckled, “I’m serious. Jaskier really seems to like this one.”

Geralt’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. He shouldn’t be listening to this, but he needed to use the restroom and his body wasn’t cooperating.

“Oh? Is that so? They’re in his room? I should go take a peak.”

Mr. Pankratz seemed to have stopped her from his displeased whine. “Jaskier is being good and concentrating on the work. I haven’t seen him so focused in a while.”

The knowledge made Geralt want to laugh. He had never seen Jaskier so unfocused…

Mrs. Pankratz huffed, “Fine… what’s he like? Is he tall? Cute? What’s his name? How long has Jaskier known him? Is it a homework date or are they hanging out as friends? Has he confessed his feelings yet?”

Her husband stopped the barrage of questions, “His name is Geralt. I’m not going to judge a growing boy’s appearance. I’m not sure about the other questions.”

“You are terrible at gathering information.” If she was anything like Jaskier, and Geralt figured she was, she was pouting right now.

“I’m not going to be your spy.”

“Traitor,” she grumbled.

“Mom! You’re home!”

Geralt groaned internally. He must have taken so long Jaskier came to check on him. His stomach gurgled from his anxiety.

Jaskier’s voice sounded muffled as his mom fawned over him, “You’re suffocating me.”

“Sorry sugar cube, I just missed you so much!”

“Dad, have you seen Geralt? He went to the bathroom a bit ago and I was checking to make sure he was okay.”

Geralt shook his head and decided to give up. He could try later. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands. Geralt exited the bathroom to see a female twin of Jaskier. Her long brunette hair curled at the ends, and framed her face nicely. Her blue eyes widened when she saw Geralt walk into the kitchen.

“You must be Geralt!” she beamed with a smile almost identical to Jaskier’s. She rushed forward and hugged him. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Mom!” Jaskier huffed, “Geralt doesn’t like being touched.”

She gasped and pulled away, “I’m sorry dear. I forget myself sometimes.”

Geralt blushed and shook his head, “It’s fine.”

She clicked her tongue as she shook her head, “It’s not fine. I need to work better on my boundaries. I hope I didn’t bother you too much.”

Jaskier leaned on Geralt, hanging over him like a backpack, “He’s fine! Dad, is dinner almost ready? Can Geralt join us?”

Mrs. Pankratz clapped her hands excitedly, “Yes! He should join us! Geralt would you like to have dinner with us?”

“Lilia,” Mr. Pankratz’s tone was firm. “I’ve already talked to his mother. He’s having dinner with us and then we’ll take him home.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Lilia placed a hand on her hip. She smiled at Geralt, “That’s wonderful. Alfred is a good cook.”

Geralt’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. He was excited to spend more time with Jaskier. Jaskier poked his cheek as he continued to lean against him, “Is that cool?”

Geralt nodded, smiling, “Yes, thank you.”

~~~

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~~~

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[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine (ii) waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life. pairing: Y/N x Bucky tags are open c:

this is a short chapter but we get to meet Bucky!

chapter 2: what baking can do

I’ve had one week to think about this. I was raised by very religious parents, and don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those pricks who want to decide over women’s bodies. I just, I wouldn’t do it myself, you know? I always wanted to be a mother, just not to Quentin’s baby. It’s confusing, I know. Leaving him sounds easy to an outsider but he’s all I have.

My mom died when I was 16 and my drunk dad left town with his new wife two years later. We got married six months after graduation and I didn’t get to go to college but he wrote songs about me and I really thought his band was gonna make it big. I believed in his talent. It’s been ten years. I was on the pill all these years and it never failed. One drunk night and that stupid red dress, that’s all it took. But it’s time to move on and be practical. I won’t leave Quentin. That’s not on my short term plans. All I can do for now is work my ass off, save some money for this baby and go see a doctor.

Doctor Lily Perkins likes my pies. It’s gonna be delicious. I’ll make something sweet with berries just for her. 

Rolling the dough for the crust is my favourite part. I remember how my mom would hide in the kitchen when my dad was drunk. She would turn the bitter days into sweet red velvet cookies and strawberry milkshakes. She taught me everything I know, from cracking eggs one-handedly to whisking stiff peaks of italian meringue. But rolling the dough for the first cherry pie I ever made, is my favourite memory of hers and mine.

“Careful, you don’t want the sugar gnomes to come eat your nose at night”. She says nonchalantly while smearing powder sugar on my nose.

“Hey! I’m trying to work here!” I yell in between giggles.

Tonight I took an extra shift to start my Baby Savings. That means baking 12 pies that need to be ready for tomorrow morning and another one to take with me on my first doctor’s appointment after work. I haven’t told Quentin yet. But let’s not think about that right now,

Let’s focus on doctor Perkin’s pie. It needs to be perfect. The right amount of sugar can make a dull day brighter, too much and it messes the whole taste experience. I think blueberry base, whipped cream and marshmallows on top will be nice. Maybe some chocolate drizzle? She’ll love it.

-

I remember coming here with my mom when I was seven. I had a bad case of chickenpox. It looks exactly the same. Light blue walls with ABC’s wallpaper on the nurse’s desk wall. She said on the phone her name was Maria. I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes because a crying five year old won’t take his shots. It’s okay though, I’m not in a rush but the doctor’s office isn’t my favorite place to be. Reminds me of the countless appointments with my mother.

“Mrs. Beck? The doctor will see you now”. Maria calls me and I go inside to an empty office.

“The doctor will be here in a minute, please change into this robe and hop on the exam table, you can leave your clothes on the stool right there”. Her eyes never leave her phone. “Good luck!” She finally looks at me and smiles before leaving me to change.

-

“Sorry for the wait, Mrs. Y/N Bell, my wife just called. We, um… nevermind. It was a long call, you know how it is”. What's happening? Who’s this man?

“It says here you got some blood work done and are here for the results”. He’s looking at the medical chart in his hands. Who’s this man and where’s doctor Perkins?

“You brought a pie? My goodness, I’ve only been in this town for a couple weeks now but the hospitality of the people keeps blowing my mind. I’m from Chicago, you know? Never in a million years I’d expect a patient to bring me pie! Sorry, I’m talking too much,tell me,  how are you Mrs. Bell?” Finally, he shuts up and turns to face me. The most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen almost make me forget how mad at him I am. God, he’s really, really tall. And that jawline. Just, wow.

“It’s Beck, not Bell”, I say clearly irritated, “but you can call me Y/N. And who are you? I was expecting Doctor Lily Perkins. I brought this pie for her actually”.

“Oh, silly me! Forgot the introductions. I’m Doctor James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” He shakes my hand and I get a whiff of his sweet and musky cologne. He stares at me. For an awkward amount of time. God I hate this much eye contact, look away! 

“Doctor Perkins is actually retired now. I came to this town to replace her. Amazing woman isn’t she? She actually taught a class when I was in colle- sorry, I’m talking too much again”.

“Yes you are. I mean, it’s okay. But you don’t understand, Lily Perkins delivered me, she’s been my family’s doctor all my life. I really trust her”. I’m almost yelling at this man, but this can’t be happening. My eyes are watering and my emotions are all over the place. Why are his lips so rosy? Did he eat all the kid’s lollipops before I got here?

“Well, maybe you can really trust me?” He does a little dance with his shoulders and if I wasn’t so mad at him for not being Doctor Perkins, I’d think he was adorable.

“I don’t know. I guess I can try”, he lights up. “But it won’t be easy!”

“Yes! Yes! Thank you, I promise you won’t regret this. Now, tell me, what brings you here?

“Well, I think I might be pregnant”.

“Oh! How nice, nice, nice. Er, congrats!” He nervously averts his eyes to his medical chart once again and his ears are red, what’s wrong with this doctor?

“Thank you, but I don’t want this baby”.

“Oh well, in that case I can refer you to the doctor who can take care of the ab-”

“No, no, no. I mean, I’m having this baby, I’m just not thrilled by the circumstances so if you could just, not congratulate me or make a big deal out of it. That’d be nice, thanks”. I cross my arms and look into his eyes, searching for judgement but it isn’t there.

“Do not make a big deal out of it. Got it!”

“Excuse me, Doctor Barnes? Mrs. Beck’s blood test results are here”. Maria chimes in.

“Well then, uncongrats! You are pregnant” He says awkwardly trying to cheer me up. It’s gonna take some time to get used to this doctor’s antics but at least he is being nice?

“Un-thank you.” I deadpan.

“Okay... Let’s see this baby, please lie down Mrs. Beck”.

-

“Do you have any questions? Diet? What to do or don’t do, exercise, sex?” Did he just, giggle?

“I don’t really do any of those things”.

“Neither do I, sis!” Maria calls from the door. She’s been there all this time?

“Well, in that case, Maria will give you a list of foods you can’t have and I want to see you back here in four weeks, alright?”

“Perfect… Um, Doctor Barnes?”

He looks at me, with those big blue eyes.

“I think you should have this pie or it’ll go to waste”.

“That’s really nice of you, Y/N. I’ve actually quit sugar, but um, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste either, it looks delicious.”

“Well, what’s life without a little sweetness from time to time? I promise you’ll find it worth cheating on your diet”.

I think I just made my doctor blush. 

-

chapter 3: when he sees me

pls reblog if you liked it c:

[ardentmuse]

for your 2k maybe harry potter with #34? ♥️💖💕

Divine Interpretation 

Harry Potter - Harry Potter x Reader

34. Yep, shouldn’t have said that. Regretted it immediately.

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: talk of death, talk of sex, general teenage awkwardness

Masterlist

A/N: Ugh, I love Harry. My poor sweet baby boy. I hope you enjoy, love! Thanks for sending this through! 

Harry had lost your trail somewhere in the courtyard. A crowd of third years returning from Care of Magical Creatures blocked his path. He had only seen the top of your head start into the castle before you disappeared. And now he was thoroughly lost.

It had been quite the sprint after class was dismissed to find you at all. You ran out of the Divinations classroom before Trelawney had even begun to assign the homework. You had been sitting across from Lavender, reciting to each other from your dream notebooks and taking turns interpreting their contents. All Harry noticed from where he and Ron sat as Lavender snatch your notebook, lean in close and whisper something and before she could even finish, you slammed in your stool and ran out the door.

And so now Harry stood outside the one place he really didn’t want to look for you, but he hoped if your friendship with Hermione meant anything, it was that you both might enjoy the same places to hide from prying eyes.

“Y/N?” Harry whispered as he slipped into the second floor girl’s bathroom. The stone sinks bore the destruction of three years earlier and Harry swallowed hard at the memory of those events. This school, this place that was home and happiness in so many ways, also never failed to remind him of all the pain, too.

A whoosh of cold overtook Harry’s body as he slowly stepped into the corridor of stalls.

“Harry Potter is looking for someone?” Myrtle asked as she stopped in front of the boy, batting her eyelashes in a way that was much more creepy than it was seductive.

“Uh, yes. Hi, Myrtle. I was wondering if you had seen someone come in here. About this tall and –“

“You didn’t come here to see me?” Myrtle asked. The waterworks were already starting and Harry was quickly remembering why he didn’t want to look for you in here in the first place.

Myrtle threw herself back into her stall, her titular moaning growing in strength by the second.

“No, no. Of course, I’m here to see you. But I’m also looking for Y/N so if you could help me—“

“Do you like Y/N?” Myrtle asked, her cries turning to sniffles as she watched Harry closely.

Harry was finding it hard to figure out what exactly Myrtle wanted, but Harry needed answers. You had never been the type to storm off before, always poised and patient and just a little bit too willing to accommodate others. You were a constant. In a school that looked at him with a mix of awe, wonder, and outright fear, you looked at him with kindness. And to see you hurting, it was honestly a little too much for him. Harry knew a thing or two about hurt, especially now after Cedric. You had sat with him in the courtyard while he recalled his nightmares of seeing his lifeless body on the ground, the searing pain coursing through his body and the hands of Pettigrew, the guilt and anger and doubt that accompanied so few people believing him. You were there, you were kind, and you always knew what to say. Or maybe you didn’t and Harry just liked hearing anything from your mouth as you ran your fingers through his hair and smiled at him. If he could offer you even the tiniest bit of comfort the way you had him, he was going to do it.  

“Um, yeah, I like Y/N. A lot. That’s why I need to find—“

“YOU DON’T LIKE ME!” Myrtle screamed, the nose deafening and sending alarm bells firing off in Harry’s head. “Nobody likes Myrtle. Stupid Myrtle. Silly Myrtle. Ugly Myrtle.”

“Of course, I like you, Myrtle. We’re friends, remember?”

“But Harry Potter is dating –“

“We’re not dating. I mean, I’d like to be but—“

At that, Myrtle completely lost it. She dove into her toilet and her cries resonated through the pipes in a way that Harry thought could be heard for several floors above and below. Harry moved forward to try and comfort the ghost, but a hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him out of the bathroom.

When Harry got his bearings, the screams a little diluted now out in the hall, Harry turned to see your face holding back a tiny smile.

“That was a silly thing to do, you know.”

“Yep, shouldn’t have said that. Regretted it immediately,” Harry confirmed with a nervous chuckle. You were standing just a little too close and your eyes were scanning his face slowly. And Harry was only now realizing that you might have heard the thing that set Myrtle off, a nervous confession of his heart at a flustered and infuriating ghost.

“It may have been unwise but I’m glad you said it.”

Harry’s gaze flicked up to meet yours. You were smiling full now and inching just the tiniest bit closer to him. He really was a goner if the soft curl of your lips and the scent of your robes were clouding his head already.

“Re-really?” he whispered, his eyes unable to pull themselves away from your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, “It’s good for Myrtle to know where she stands. I wouldn’t want any extra competition.”

Harry’s mind was having difficulty processing everything. Maybe Myrtle’s screams had rendered him stupid, but he was getting the impression that you felt the same way he did. But that couldn’t be right. Who would willingly sign up for the lump of baggage and confusion that he was, especially someone was breathtaking and clever as you?

When Harry didn’t respond, you pulled away and turned your head down.

“Now I’m the one who regrets saying something,” you said to yourself before meeting Harry’s gaze once more. “Just forget it and –“

Harry’s brain short-circuited at your confusion and all he could do was kiss you.

Those lips.

Those lips had been taunting him for months, and for the entirety of this conversion. Those stupid, beautiful, kind, kissable lips. And god, were they just as sweet and supple as he had dreamed – though he’d left those details out of the diaries for Divinations. No, those dreams were his alone.

When Harry pulled away, the taste of you upon him lifted a bit of the fog of his mind. This was real, you were here, and you weren’t running away.

Your fingers came up to caress your lips and Harry watched, enamored.

“Just how I dreamt it,” you said.

And Harry laughed, not at you dreaming of a kiss – he did that every night with you when he could push the dark thoughts away long enough to enjoy himself – but because he now understood exactly what sent you running out of the Divinations classroom. Lavender was the worst place to get advice on such things.

“You could just leave those parts out of your dream notebooks,” Harry said, catching your chin under his fingers, hoping you’ll look at him again. “That’s what I do.”

“You have a lot of these dreams?” you asked.

“Too many.”

“Maybe we can get it out of our systems together during the day? That way we don’t have to lie in our diaries?” You were biting your lip now and Harry found himself overjoyed by the sight of you just as vulnerable and awkward as he was.

“I doubt I’ll ever be able to get you out of my system. I’ll probably just end up having more detailed dreams about you and fail Divinations for submitting erotica as homework.”

You spit out your laugh as Harry’s face turned cold.

“Shouldn’t have said that either,” Harry whispered to himself with a shake of the head but your hand found his wrist tucked into his robes and soon your fingers were intertwined.

“Do you regret it?” you asked as you pulled Harry down the hall. To where, he wasn’t sure.

“If it makes you laugh and has you holding my hand, then I don’t think so.”

You turned over your shoulder and smiled at him. And as your eyes scanned around the corridor, Harry was unsure what you had planned. But soon he found himself lightly pushed into a supply closet, the door shut behind him. A broom hit the floor as your body became flush with his own, the darkness only adding to the details of your touch that he was determine to memorize. Myrtle’s cries were but a soft whisper in the walls now.

As you lips gently found his own once more, he held softly to your hips. And Harry knew for sure he’d have quite a few more things to leave out of his dream journal tomorrow. Maybe he’d make up something about death. Trelawney always liked that.

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot, @eldritchscreech, @luckyvirgo, @hellizhelusive2, @lexrius, @sapphireorchid

[xpouii]

Tentacletober Day 27

It’s late! Smut Month is still releasing on time though just a bit later in the day. No worries! This is the Sequel to Day 19 and the finale of the series started on Day 9! There might be a followup in the future if there’s interest but it’ll be after Smut Month ends. Thanks for reading!

Prompt: They Won’t Hurt You

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Remus, Deceit, Patton, Logan

Warnings/Tags: Sequel to Day 19, SFW, domestic violence, child abuse, drug use, mentioned pornography, kissing, non-explicit nudity, sympathetic Remus, unsympathetic Deceit, sympathetic unsympathetic Patton (Yes really), mentions of self harm and eating disorder

           Virgil rolled over when his phone pinged, the screen lighting up his face in the dark room. He smiled as he scrolled through the three selfies Roman had sent,  each face sillier than the last. His hair was mussed and he was in pajamas with Remus over his shoulder. You’re not actually sleeping right now are you?

           It’s two in the morning so yeah, I was sleeping. What the hell are you two doing?

           Virgil yawned as he waited for the response. His phone lit up again and Virgil grabbed it.

Buying you porn. Remus is loving it.

           Virgil choked on a laugh and pulled his pillow over his face to stifle it, hurriedly typing back. WHY

           Because baby Virge only turns 18 once in his life!

           Wait you’re in your pajamas. Where are you?

           Roman sent another selfie with his tongue out, obviously standing in front of the clerk at the adult bookstore/bottle shop called Secrets. In the background Remus was balancing an armful of magazines—and a few boxes Virgil couldn’t see very well from the angle. He turned red. Roman what are the boxes?????

Happy Birthday! A string of birthday cake emojis and sexy lips followed the message, and then Go to bed baby see you tomorrow!

Virgil started a reply then quickly shoved his phone under his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut when he heard the footsteps. His door swung open and Deceit stalked in, “It’s the middle of the fucking night!” he growled. “And all I can hear is your fucking phone going off!”

“S-sorry!” Virgil said. “Roman couldn’t sleep and-“

“What’s going on?” Patton called, moving around Deceit smoothly and standing between the two of them. “Virgil honey are you alright?”

“Fucking texting,” Deceit said. “Fucking phone woke me up.”

“Put it on silent, baby,” Patton said. Something about his expression was different. He looked afraid. “Come to bed Dee.”

Deceit tried to step around Patton but he blocked him, “Go back to bed Patton I’m going to have a talk with him.”

“Dee it’s alright,” Patton said, reaching to put his hand on Deceit’s chest. “Come back to bed with me. I’m cold… please?”

Deceit shrugged off Patton’s hands and tried to nudged past him, “Get out of the way, Pat I’m going to-“

“Dee stop!” Patton shouted, refusing to budge from the doorway. “No more!”

Deceit paused, shocked, and then he sneered, “Suddenly you’re brave, huh? You’ve forgotten how things used to be.” He slammed Patton against the wall, hand around his throat.

Virgil scooted to the edge of the bed but Patton threw his hand out, warning him away; the teen pulled his knees to his chest as tears poured down his face. Patton didn’t struggle, but his eyes were wide; there was a primal fear there, and he was stuck, silent for a long moment as he fought the scared animal inside himself, “Dee. You’re… I won’t let you hurt him anymore. It has to stop now.”

Deceit’s sneer turned angry, and before Virgil could even shout, he punched the other man. Patton’s glasses fell to the floor, broken, but he stayed standing until the third blow that busted his lip, and he went down to his knees. Deceit spat on him, turning and storming into his study and slamming the door. Virgil rushed to Patton’s side, “Dad!”

Patton cupped his face, “Shhh baby I’m fine.”

“But-“

“You can’t comfort me, Virgil. Not after I let him do this to you for thirteen years. Now, go back to bed baby. I’m making your favorite for breakfast. Don’t oversleep.” Patton wiped his bloody lip on his pajama sleeve and pressed a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. “Go on baby.”

Virgil walked backward to the bed, eyes fixed on his father as he stood and picked up his glasses, leaving the room. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, his mind running in circles.

  Patton closed the door and walked into the bathroom; he flipped on the light and stared at his own reflection. His eye was red and puffy, and blood from his lip was smeared across his chin. He gripped the sink with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing away the tears that tried to surface. He wouldn’t allow himself the luxury. Washing his face, he regarded himself dully, a tired, selfish idiot who had let his own fear and insecurities make him abusive. Deceit might have put hands on Virgil, but Patton had destroyed him.

They were old memories, but it was like riding a bike as Patton took down the first aid kit and checked his face.

You never forget.

“Pat!” Deceit called as he stepped in the door, taking off his jacket. “Are you home?”

Patton emerged from the kitchen with a smile, “Hi sweety. How was work?”

“Dinner?”

“Oh… um… I’m getting ready to go and meet the guys from the hospital… you remember? It’s the little reunion today.” Patton stayed in the kitchen doorway, his heart pounding.

“So you just decided I don’t need to eat?” Deceit asked coolly. “So you can go whore yourself out all night?”

Patton’s face reddened and he looked down at his feet, “I’m sorry. I have time I can make-“

“Shut up!” Deceit hissed, and the slap was quick, not even as hard as Patton was used to.

But it caught him off guard, and he grabbed the doorframe to steady himself, whimpering. Deceit moved in and pushed him until he was pinned against the kitchen island. “Dee please let me fix-“

The second hit wasn’t a slap, but a punch to his jaw. Patton saw stars and his feet tried to give out. Deceit had never gone so angry so quickly before, and Patton tried to duck away, terror driving him to run rather than to sit and take it like he usually did. He was quick, and adrenaline drove him up the stairs. He’d just put his hand on the top banister when Deceit’s hand grabbed his shirt. His husband yanked him backward violently, stepping out of the way and letting Patton fall.

Patton had seen broken bones before, but he’d never heard one so clearly as when he landed on the bottom step and his tibia snapped.

Patton heard it now as he closed the first aid kit and replaced it on the wall, going back to bed.

  Virgil was dressed and ready for the day when he emerged from his room, tiptoeing down the stairs and hurrying to the kitchen. Patton was at the stove and he turned around, looking a bit resigned at first and then when he saw Virgil he beamed, “Happy Birthday!”

Virgil stopped short when he saw the black eye, already going dark and ugly. His father was wearing his emergency glasses that he had in case his others were ever broken, and he was holding a plate of blueberry pancakes. “Dad…”

Patton walked over and set the plate down at the table, turning around and letting out a sound of surprise when Virgil wrapped his arms around him, “Oh, Virgil. Your breakfast will get cold.”

Patton gave Virgil a pat on his back and directed him to the chair as if afraid of his affection—and he was, reminded of the manipulation and cowardice he’d been using on his son. He went to the sink and immediately started the dishes, “So, my grown man, what are your plans for today? It’s Friday so you must be going to stay with Roman or Logan? Right?”

Virgil shook himself out of his surprise, “Uh… Roman wanted to have a party I guess. Is that-“

“Oh my sweet baby, you don’t have to ask anymore,” Patton said. “Do you need money? I’ll run by the atm after I go by the optometrist today and I’ll bring it by school ok? And I promise I won’t send any of those silly balloons that always embarrass you. I know-“

The air in the kitchen changed as Deceit walked in; Virgil looked down at his breakfast, tensing up when Deceit patted his back. “Happy Birthday, son.”

Deceit then walked over to Patton, and Virgil watched as he wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s waist and spun him around to kiss him, “Good morning, baby.”

Patton forced a smile that even Virgil couldn’t see through, “Look at you, all dressed up. Big meeting today, right?”

“That’s right,” Deceit said. “Plans for today?”

“I’m going to the optometrist. I must have broken my glasses last night when I got up to go to the bathroom. I slipped and hit my face on the edge of the vanity.”

“Clumsy,” Deceit said, and pulled Patton in for a deeper kiss, going so far as to bite his husband’s split lip. “You look beautiful, but wear some makeup when you go out. Not everybody appreciates a bare face.”

“Of course,” Patton said, watching Deceit sweep out of the kitchen. He went back to the dishes without comment, and Virgil felt sick.

 On the way out the door, Virgil heard his father in the bathroom and stopped to watch. Patton was using a makeup blender sponge and concealer to hide the bruises on his face. He didn’t hear Virgil, or notice him standing there, and an ugly bitter feeling swelled up inside of Virgil as he thought about the way Patton knew how it felt, and still let it happen.

“When’s the last time he hit you? Before last night?” Virgil asked.

Patton jumped, and it was familiar, that hypervigilance, and Virgil was torn between sympathy and bitterness. “Virgil you’re going to be late for school.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

Patton sighed, putting down the blender and turning to face Virgil, “Before you were born. It’s been eighteen years almost to the day. When we brought you home from the hospital… on the way home he cried and he swore never again. He’d done it before but he’d never actually cried before. I thought life was going to be perfect, my perfect little life. I quit working, like he wanted, and we had you and you were so beautiful, Virgil, so perfect. Even when you cried and fussed and… god Dee loved you. You were the apple of his eye, honey, his little carbon copy. You followed him everywhere. You watched him get ready for work every morning and at breakfast you’d pretend to read the newspaper to him. You’d just babble away.” Patton laughed softly, then the smile faded. “Then, one day when you were six, you knocked his coffee into his lap. He slapped you so hard you fell off your chair.”

“I remember,” Virgil said. “A little.”

“You ran right to me and I picked you up and you wouldn’t let go of me until he left for work. You were mine after that. You wanted me to teach you to knit and when you found my clarinet in the attic you joined band and… I finally had the baby I wanted. Instead of… of trying to encourage you to go back to Deceit I just… held onto you. Anytime you got in trouble I called him, because if I disciplined you, you might go back. You might decide you liked him better again. I should have stepped in-between the two of you, disciplined you myself. If I didn’t make him so angry at you all the time… if I wasn’t such a worthless coward. I tried, Virgil. I tried to work up the courage so many times, you know. Every time I thought about it I could feel him hitting me, the broken bones and the cigarette burns and the blood. I couldn’t do it. I know you hate me and you should, Virgil. I’m worse than he is. I’m a monster.”

Virgil stared at his feet, then he took a breath, “I didn’t start self harming until the therapist talked me into it.”

Patton turned back to the mirror, “Jesus is there anything I didn’t do to you?”

Virgil shrugged, “I’m going to school now. Don’t know when I’ll be back but uh… can I have a thousand? Dollars I mean?”

“Sure. I’ll come by around noon or so. I’m sure the secretary will have to call you up and-“

“Just leave it in the office,” Virgil said. “And text me. I’ll get it between classes.”

Virgil left the doorway and Patton went back to covering his black eye, trying to finish before he started crying again.

  Roman and Logan were talking at the breakfast table when Virgil finally showed, “Hey! Why were you so late, jerk!” Roman greeted.

“Happy Birthday!” Logan piped in cheerfully. He handed Virgil an overstuffed envelope. “Don’t open that yet.”

Roman bounced in his seat, pulling Virgil into a hug as soon as he sat, “Our baby’s finally a man! I can’t wait to give you your presents!”

Virgil chuckled, setting his bag down, “Ok ok, and I don’t have to go home either.”

“Until like this evening?” Roman asked.

“No,” Virgil said. “Like ever, but definitely not until we’re done partying.”

“Excellent,” Logan said. “I believe the morning drive alone will take four hours.”

Virgil blinked, “What?!”

Roman shushed him, “Worry about it after school. For now, you just have to make it through a day of classes knowing the absolute bonerfest waiting for you in my car.”

“Ok ok fine,” he said, smiling at his friends. “Logan? How are you feeling?”

Logan’s smile became warmer, more subdued, “I’m still adjusting, but I remain free of withdrawal and the doctor said if things hadn’t gotten bad by now I was in the relative clear as long as I can avoid the mental aspect of addiction which… the CBD has really helped. And my mother was so happy she bought me a car. I can’t drive it or anything, but she said since I’m not losing time anymore eventually she’ll concede to me getting my license. I’m not worried about it though. The two of you can chauffer me around until you’re off to college.”

“Right well if you weren’t going to get into the country’s finest schools maybe we could keep driving you around,” Virgil teased.

The other two were silent and Virgil frowned, “Oh god, Logan… did something happen?”

“No,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses. “I’m taking a gap year.”

“Really?” Virgil gasped. “You?”

“We can’t all leave Remus,” Logan said. “And his portal jumping can only get him so far. He can’t follow you all the way to college so he’s going to live under my bed until you two come home. Besides, what normal teenager wouldn’t agree to spending a year smoking weed in their parent’s house with a… tentacle monster.”

Roman hummed, “Well, tentacles aside, Remus learned a lot about human anatomy last night. He was amused, then horrified, and I think he has a healthy fear of us now.”

Virgil snorted and hid his face in his hands, tears stinging his eyes, “Guys. I love you.”

The other two noticed the tears and Roman moved in immediately, “Baby what is it!”

“We overwhelmed him, clearly,” Logan said. “He’ll never want to see another penis again when you get done with him.”

“Not even possible,” Roman said, but he pulled Virgil’s hands away, fixing his makeup gently. “Tell me baby.”

“My dad… fuck. It’s a mess you guys. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start after our text messages,” Roman said. “Until the bell rings, then we’ll catch up at lunch.”

Virgil managed to tell them everything in a short, dirty version before the bell rang. Both of his friends were speechless—and Virgil could hardly blame them—but Roman did walk him to class holding his hand.

When lunch rolled around, all three of them took to Virgil’s truck, Logan in the cramped backseat and the other two up front. Virgil drove them off campus to the nearby park and opened his gift from Logan—a full baggy of pre-rolled joints, Berry White strain—and they shared it. It didn’t take long for the awkwardness of the morning to float away on the thick smoke.

“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” Logan said from the backseat, rolling down the window and hanging his long legs out so he could fully stretch out. “Patton was beaten for… how long have they been married?”

“Good fucking question,” Virgil muttered.

“However many years, and then when Deceit decides to beat you instead, he just lets him, for almost your entire life. He just so happens to put a stop to it now.”

“Because you’re turning eighteen,” Roman said, taking a deep drag and holding it in while the other two waited. “You can leave now, legally, and never have to go home. He needs you to want to go home. It’s just like my mother on my birthday, the selfish bitch.”

“You think it’s an act?” Virgil asked, his heart dropping. “Really?”

“No,” Logan said. “But it may have been enough to finally get him to act. I think he’s just afraid that he’ll never get the chance to do penance for what he’s done to you. Personally, I wouldn’t forgive him. Tell him to fuck off.”

Virgil picked up his phone as it pinged and he chuckled, “He just left one thousand dollars for me in the school office.”

“Don’t tell him to fuck off,” Logan said, sitting up. “I’m an idiot.”

“Take the money and then tell him to fuck off,” Roman said. “Or let me do it. God please let me tell him off. I want to punch him in his other eye the piece of fucking shit.”

The truck was silent for a moment, and Logan leaned forward between them, “You’re kind of harshing the vibe, Roman.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman said, looking out the window.

Virgil scooted close and rested his head on Roman’s shoulder, “It’s ok, Ro. I understand.”

Roman turned and kissed Virgil, deep and needy, until Logan sighed, “If you two are gonna have sex will you take me back to school?”

The truck filled with their hysterical giggles, and the tension melted away leaving only warmth—and three insistent cases of the munchies—behind.

  They left school together, Logan riding with Virgil all too happy to skip the bus. “This truck smells like weed,” he said with a smirk.

Virgil chuckled, “So, we’re having a party at Roman’s tonight but… what about tomorrow? What’s with the road trip?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy,” Logan said. “And now that I’m no longer popping Adderall I can actually remember to keep my mouth shut. I’ll just say you’re going to love it, and that’s all you’re getting out of me.”

“Should I pack a helmet?”

“Knowing you? Always,” Logan said. “But stop trying to get me in trouble with Roman. He’s meaner than you. What do you think Remus makes of birthdays?”

“Well I know he has them. Roman had a hell of a time teaching him about cake though when he had that Home Ec homework you remember? Remus kept putting his face in it.”

Logan snorted, “Remus said Roman’s doing better with the ice cream thing.”

“That’s what I heard,” Virgil said. “I uh… think as long as he stays strong and ignores his fucking mother. The other day I was on the phone with him and she told him he was getting fat. He weighed himself and he was 108 pounds! He cried for an hour on the phone with me but I got him calmed down. What a monster.”

“Well Roman did say she’s started drinking more so maybe she’ll drink herself to death soon.”

“Dark,” Virgil said. “But I gotta keep a close eye on him until we leave for college. I think we’ve got things worked out to share a room so hopefully I can help him through rough times.”

“What about your rough times?”

Virgil shrugged, “I have the feeling those will be fewer and further between.”

“You do know that self-harming doesn’t just go away like that, don’t you? Sure Deceit might not hit you again but… you’ve got all this drama with Patton now. Even if you don’t stick around to work things out, you’ll still have some feelings about the whole thing. How could you not?”

Virgil shifted in his seat as he pulled up to the apartment complex. “Look… I know. I know it’s gonna be hard and like… I’ll probably saw my arm off before I’m done but right now I just want to pretend I’m normal.”

“Fair enough,” Logan said. “Let’s all pretend to be normal.”

“Porn time!” Roman shouted as he jumped out of his car.

“Well… the two of us anyway.”

              “Ok,” Roman said when they reached the door. “I promised mom there wouldn’t be any sugar so we should do our best to leave cake everywhere in here.”

           Virgil and Logan exchanged smirks and followed their friend inside. “This is the first time I’ve ever been here,” Virgil said. “It’s nicer than the old place.”

           “It’s alright,” Roman said. “Can’t wait to get the fuck out of here. How many days again?”

           Virgil took out his phone but Logan rattled off, “Ninety-seven… well, until move-in day on your campus. I know because I’m helping not because I’m trying to live vicariously through you.”

           “Good to know,” Virgil said.

           Roman put the heavy gift bag up on the kitchen table, “Ok Virgil! Time for presents!”

           “I should have gotten the helmet for this,” Virgil muttered, jumping when Remus bounced into the kitchen. “Hey Remus.”

           “Happy Birthday!” the monster said musically. His tentacles were wrapped around him politely, the way they stayed when he was interacting with his humans. “I’m told it’s customary to spank you!”

           “No, no I don’t think that’s gonna be happening,” Virgil said. “Thanks though Remus I appreciate the effort.”

             Gifts and cake and a lot of laughs later, the three of them were sitting around the table. Logan was flipping through one of Virgil’s new magazines with a look of amused bewilderment and Roman was poking at a second piece of cake. “I can’t believe we’re all adults now.”

           “I don’t feel like one,” Logan muttered.

           “I’m starting to,” Virgil said. “And it has nothing to do with the porn, before you ask.”

           “It’s because you ate three pieces of cake,” Roman said. “You’re transcending time and space because of the sugar.”

           Virgil grinned and shoved Roman, “Well I wanted to make sure and defy your mom as much as possible.”

           Roman reached over and spread a dollop of icing on Virgil’s nose. “Now you’re really a sweetie.”

           Virgil faked a gasp, flinging a few crumbs from his empty plate at Roman, “Don’t start a food fight you can’t start, my friend.”

           “Who said I don’t plan on finishing you?” Roman said, biting his bottom lip as he picked up the entire piece of cake and jumped forward, smearing Virgil’s face with it.

           The boys were laughing as they fell to the floor, a mess of icing and crumbs. Logan ignored them, trying to figure out what the hell CBT was. Once Virgil started tickling Roman, the fight was lost, and Roman cried uncle, leaving the two boys in an undeniably intimate heap on the floor, “Told you you wouldn’t finish,” Virgil gloated.

“Happy Birthday you bitch,” Roman laughed, and Virgil leaned in to lick some of the icing off of his cheek. “Stay with me, Virgil, forever?”

“Yeah, but only if Remus can live under our bed,” Virgil said.

“We really do spoil him,” Roman said, pulling Virgil down for a kiss.

When it became obvious the kiss wasn’t going to stop, and hands began to wander, Logan rolled his eyes and stepped over them, leaving the kitchen. He walked upstairs to Roman’s bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. “Didn’t take them long, did it?”

“Longer than I expected, but no,” Logan said as Remus crawled up to sit beside him. “I didn’t expect you to duck out so early.”

“I was hoping you’d follow me,” Remus said. “I’ve been wanting to try something with you.”

Logan looked over and saw Remus’ cheeks were stained with a blush of green. He raised an eyebrow, “Are you trying to… hit on me?”

“I hadn’t started yet!” Remus barked. “I was going to lock the door and then put my leg up on Roman’s desk and you were going to ask if I was trying to seduce you. At least try to follow your own customs!”

“That’s from the movie The Graduate and it is by no means my custom,” Logan said. “But… I’m interested.”

“What?”

“I’m saying yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, fuck me!” Logan blurted.

Remus crouched and moved close, his nose touching Logan’s, “Are you sure?”

“You want me to rethink things?” Logan said. “Your breath smells like Old Spice… were you eating Roman’s deodorant?”

Remus sat back on his haunches, covering his mouth, “No!

Logan laughed at the absurdity and took off his glasses, “If you want to kiss me, go brush your teeth.” He stood and started to strip.

Remus froze to the spot, staring at Logan’s body, studying every pale inch that came into view. “You’re different.”

Logan looked over his shoulder, “Than the men in Roman’s porn magazines? No kidding. Are you going to brush your teeth?”

Remus scurried off to the bathroom as Logan looked at himself in the mirror hanging on Roman’s door. He had gained a bit of weight in his face, but it looked filled out, and his eyes were no longer circled in sleepless bruises. His lips, once dry and chewed to pieces were plump, smooth and soft. He licked them, letting himself smile as he touched the red rub mark on the bridge of his nose from his glasses. He reached and turned off the room light, leaving only Roman’s preposterous white Christmas lights circling the canopy of his bed, and Logan thought he looked even better in shadow. Behind him, a pair of green glowing eyes appeared and he shivered at the touch of tentacles over his naked body. “Don’t worry,” Remus whispered, ghosting his lips over Logan’s shoulder as his tentacles writhed and caressed Logan in the dark. “They won’t hurt you.”

[melmac78]

A silly TAG story

(This is a really silly TAG story, caused by lots of weird dreams while trying to recover from a minor illness.)

*********************

Alan Tracy was enjoying a nice tall glass of frosty root beer with cherries as he played his latest attempt at “Space Spartans.”

He had always wanted to beat his Dad’s score, but when it came time to face the rounds larger enemy aircraft, he always seemed to get interru…

“Thunderbird Five to Alan!,” said John, who decided to cut out the game and put his image there instead.

Right when Alan was about to beat the top score of 750…

Always 749, he growled.

Right now though, there were more important things to worry about. “What’s up John?” Alan queried.

“It’s Virgil… he’s down but I haven’t figured out why,” said John. “He’s located in the kitchen. Go help him.”

Alan jumped up and ran to a special chute that let him get down to the lounge area and kitchen in a hurry - for emergencies. He grabbed the handrail, did a hop and slid.

He hit the floor however with a ringing thump… complete, to Alan’s confusion, a ringing, thumping sound.

The youth rubbed his backside and went over to Virgil. *I rubbed my tuchus and then went over to the scene...*

He ignored the voice, which he thought was in his head, and found Virgil, lying unconscious on the ground…

Oddly covered in duck feathers.

“Virgil, you OK?” said Alan...

*There was Virgil! He was down… in down…* said the voice again.

This time however, it made Alan jump. “Who said that?” quirered Alan.

“I did,” said the voice, louder this time, and popped up an image of a metal man. “Name’s Spanner… Dick Spanner, P.I..”

“OK, I’m Alan, and this is my brother, Virgil,” said the youth as he checked Virgil over. “He’d say hi except he’s unconscious.”

The… robot’s? … eyes spun. “Naturally,” he quipped. “Listen, I saw the foul fowl that hit your brother…”

Alan did a double take. “Wait? He got knocked out by a duck?!” said the youth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because he’s right behind you, complete with a monkey wrench,” said Spanner… who along with Alan turned to see that there was indeed a Mallard with a monkey wrench. “Darn it… I knew I missed something…”

The human was more concerned the monkey wrench was a real monkey made of metal and had claws like the wrench.

So did Virgil, who had come to at the time. He took a look at the mean mallard, the weird wrench, and then the holographic robot.

He did the only logical thing at the moment.

Decided to faint again.

Spanner quietly nodded to the youth. “There’s only one thing you can do… use the Zippo Tranquilizer Dart in your pocket.”

“What?” said Alan, who dug into his pocket.

Instead of a tranquilizer dart, he found an apple pie.

“Hell’s Bells! I thought I had given you the right item,” said Spanner.

Alan however shrugged and threw the pie at the duck and monkey wrench… hitting them in the face.

The duck wiped off the concoction from its face and got ready to attack.

The youth was ready to defend his brother… but then looked confused as the duck and monkey then collapsed to the ground, out cold. “Huh, that’s weird,” said Alan as he walked over to check the two.

Spanner also was confused. “I’ve see someone pie-eyed, but that’s a bit overboard for shut-eye-pie” said the robot, who groaned, realized even for *him* that was a bad play on words.

Alan however grabbed the pie plate and frowned. “Says Finn…” said the youth, puzzled.

The PI robot shook his head, figuring another item he missed. “Of course! I forgot Mickey made pies,” he said.

“Wait… Mickey … Finn? As in a drugged pie?”

“Yeah… well, at least this time one of my oddly odd pocket items had a bonus benefit,” said Spanner. “At least it wasn’t the banana again.”

Alan started to say something, when he heard his brother groan. “Virgil? You OK?” he said to the rousing man.

Virgil opened his eyes. “Um… yeah, I think. Did a duck attack me?” he said, and at his brother’s nod, then looked at the various green feathers on him. “Huh, that’s a new one.”

He then saw the snoozing poultry and shook his head. “How did you get him?”

“I got a pie from pi… or um, a PI,” said Alan, and when Virgil quirked an eyebrow at the odd pun, the youth gestured to the metallic man in the holograph.

“Um… thanks, I guess.” What else could Virgil say.

“Glad to be of help,” said the metallic man. “It’s nice to solve a case once in a while… even if it takes a literal millennia.”

“Right…” muttered Virgil.

Alan however sucked on his fingers and quickly checked on his brother. “Looks like you got a knock on the noggin,” said the youngest gently brushing the bruise.

Spanner started rambling, saying something about forgetting a note about the pie….

Virgil winced at his brother’s touch. “I’m fine Alan,” he said, brushing off his brother’s helping hand. “We need to box the duck before he comes to… and I'm guessing the uh, wrench too...”

Alan paused then pulled his fingers from his mouth. “Nah, better have John inst …”

The older brother grabbed the younger’s hand instead. “Um… Alan, which hand did you pick up the pie?” he said, concerned.

“My rig…” said Alan, then realized paled at the crumbs between his fingers. “Uh... oh…”

The robot then opened up his eyes, snapping his metallic fingers. “Oh yeah! One of Mickey Finn’s pies is lights out for up to three people!” he said.

Virgil and Alan looked at each other. “Three?” said Alan, looking at the two critters on the ground.

Spanner realized his mistake. “Oh boy, not again…” he said, hand over his eyes.

It was too late for Alan, who felt the world growing dark...

Strong hands grabbed him around the shoulder as he fell. “Alan…” said Virgil. “Can you hear me?...”

“Come on kid… wake up…” said the robot, voice softening as darkness descended.

**********

“Come on kid… wake up…” said the voice again, only younger.

Hmm… it was odd that the robot had sounded like Scott only about 20 years older and after waking up from tonsillitis. That gravelly voice stuck with him to that day.

The youngest was confused but another voice continued. “Scott, EOS said he’s regaining consciousness.”

Regaining cons… oh, that’s why no rug on the floor.

Alan realized it was him they were talking about, stirred and opened his eyes, seeing Scott and Virgil with John’s hologram hovering. “Um… hi,” he said, confused. “Why am I on the ground?”

Scott chuckled. “Because you slid on a pillow, fell and knocked yourself out,” he said as he shook his head.

Alan however found himself more confused. “Ok, but it doesn’t explain why am I covered in feathers, and apple pie goo?”

Virgil merely chortled as he looked at Alan’s eyes. “Well… that’s a special UFO that a Shado hit you with,” he said. Seeing Alan’s perplexed look, he clarified. “Gordon hit you with an apple pie and a feather pillow, not sure what order.”

The youngest groaned, hand over his yes. “Oh brother. The pie wasn’t made by Mickey Finn was it?” he said, confused.

The elder trio looked at each other and then at their youngest brother. “Alan, Gordon may be mean, but he wouldn’t create a drugged apple pie,” said John. “Where would you get a silly idea like that?”

Alan pointed at Scott. “Him… well a robot that sounded like him 20 years older and as though he ate a Brillo pad washed down with a glass of Beverly soda,” he said, wincing in memory of the bitter licorice tasting beverage.

He then shrugged. “Maybe that's why he sounded so rough. At least Scott has more sense than the PI. Not as bad with puns either.”

Scott shook his head, not sure if that was a compliment or not. “OK, well, I think it’s time you get to the infirmary. Brains said he needed to do a scan of you to make sure no severe concussion,” he said.

Alan groaned. “Man, not that one with the two green rings. I keep thinking he’s doing some sort of secret to clone me,” he said.

“Yes Alan - Brains is going to create multiple clones of you to do his bidding. I mean, that’s how I stayed conscious and indestructible in 25Gs,” quipped John. Seeing Alan’s shocked look, the astronaut laughed. “Just kidding, I’m not Captain Scarlet or anything.”

“No you’re Captain Magenta,” said a new voice. “No… Ochre. You’d choose bland and boring over pink any day.”

The others laughed while John rolled his eyes, choosing to sign off before he turned the “Symphony” of humor on Gordon.

The aquanaut then put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, helping him stand. “I’m sorry Alan, I didn’t mean to harm you,” he said.

“It was an accident,” said Alan. “But thank you.”

The aquanaut smiled. “And, as a way of groveling, I plan on taking you down to the infirmary myself and wait on you hand and foot for a week,” he said, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulder to assist.

Alan quirked an eyebrow. “Wait on me hand and foot? Where did that come from?”

Gordon glanced askance. “Three brothers who said they’d try to make me fit in the little Stingray in the aquarium if I didn’t,” he said cheekily. “Come on, let’s go.”

Shortly afterward, they reached the chute that would take them not only to Thunderbird Four but the infirmary.

Sure, Gordon was very, very sincere in his comments wanting to help Alan get well soon from an honest mistake.

But there was one more set of reasons: He had to figure out who this Dick Spanner was, why all the bad puns, and finally…

Why would someone knock out Virgil with a duck in the first place?

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Destiny of the Damned

Part 1 - Meeting Roman

Chapter 3 - Zombie

"Why wouldn't you go on dates? They're fun. Even if you end up never speaking to the person again, how else are you going to embarrass yourself singing karaoke, or bowling, or playing putt putt golf, or laser tag?" I asked.

"I'm more interested in fast forwarding to the end of the date." He smiled and winked at me. "Besides, I don't think I've ever done any of those things you said... Ever"

"Whhhhhhaaaaattttttt? Shut your dirty whore mouth." I exclaimed wide eyed with my mouth hanging open.

"What? That stuff is too cheesy for me. I've got a lot on my plate, I don't have time for nonsense."

"When I grow up, I wanna be just like you." I say like a smart-ass, resting my chin in my palm as i lean on the center console "Ok change of plans. We are now going to this address." I keyed in the new information into the navigation.

"Is this like your favorite place?" he asks with a smirk.

"No, I've never gone, but I remember reading about it."

"So any address you ever see, you remember forever?" he asks incredulously.

"Yes. Anything I read or see, I remember. Not so much what I hear always."

He raised my hand to his pillow lips and gently kissed along my knuckles and across the back of my hand. He took my index finger into his mouth and gently sucked on it, turning his lustful gaze on me with such intensity, i could feel the heat in my core. I could see how he got his reputation, and Although it felt nice, I blurted out my first thought.

"I bet you made out with your hand when you were a kid huh? Like when you decided to practice?"

He froze and removed my finger from his mouth and turned to me rolling his eyes, "Don't you find me attractive?"

"Duh." I giggled.

"Duh?" He shook his head and dropped my hand putting both hands on the wheel and staring ahead with a sour look on his perfect face.

I stare at him as he continues to ignore me. Good fucking luck buddy. I got my phone out and opened my karaoke app. I turned the radio off and selected a song I figured everyone knew; "Zombie" by the Cranberries.

"Excuse me, I was listening to that." Roman said, flashing me an annoyed look, as he reached to turn his radio back on, but I karate chop his hand at the last moment, and he lets out a yelp in surprise.

"Hiya!" I shouted playfully. "We are going to sing karaoke on the way and get that off your bucket list."

"I wasn't aware that was on my list." He said icily, staring straight ahead again looking even meaner.

"Brrrr. It's so cold in here... must be you." I take my seat belt off and lean across the center console and breath hot breath on his throat and then lick all the way up to his ear, and then gently kiss his cheek. He visibly melts and lets out a low growl and pulls over. As soon as the suv was in park, he picks me up completely and sets me in his lap before crushing my lips with a frantic kiss. I could feel him getting aroused since I was in his lap, and I pull away to look at him, both of us already out of breath. We lock eyes and he opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of what it was he was going to say and just returns my gaze with a half smile playing across his lips. I search his face, taking in the Gorgeous green color of his eyes, his pillow soft lips, The little line in the middle of his nose, the hardly noticeable scar on his cheek, his severe cheekbones, the way his face looked almost perfectly symmetrical. He was so beautiful. What the hell do I have to lose here?

"What are you thinking about?" He asks as I lean in to kiss him again.

"How someone so beautiful, can be so lonely." I say against hi lips without thinking. As soon as it comes out, I want to slap myself.

"Who said I was lonely?" He says almost shyly. 

I meet his eyes and tenderly kiss him. I place my hands on each cheek and nibble on his bottom lip ending in a drawn out smooch. I open my eyes and he is staring at me thoughtfully. I nuzzle my nose against his cheek and I feel him relaxing, before he snaps to attention, glring at me suspiciously. 

"Tell me What.You. Want. From. Me."He commanded. His eyes never leaving my own, his intense gaze willing me to tell him what he wants to know. I don't think he knows what it's like to hear no. I try to think of the answer to his question, because I am just as curious what the answer is. finally I think I have the answer. 

"I want you Roman. And I want you to want me. But not the easy way" I said pressing my hand down on his stiff erection. "I want it from here." I placed my hand on his heart and placed his hand on mine.

He looked a little nervous, and broke our eye contact and looked out the window. He chuckles uncomfortably shaking his head, "If you knew me, the real me... you wouldn't say such a thing. I'm ugly and I'm incapable of love. Giving it or receiving it."

My heart broke for him. What could be his reason for saying such a thing? People don't say stuff like that for nothing. This boy had some deep issues and some serious baggage. i let out a big sigh, as  I crawled back over into my seat.

"I should take you back." He said, not making eye contact.

"I'll fucking climb through your doggy door if you try to escape me now." I teased.

He smiles in spite of himself and turns to me with his eyebrow cocked, "I don't have a doggy door."

"It's easy enough to make one." I say seriously as he searches my face for something. 

"Great you're a psycho," He laughs. He was trying not to smile but he couldn't help it. He tried a few times to go back to his brooding mean mug, but then hed glance over at me, and break out into a smile again. "I like you a lot. You're crazy." He leaned over to kiss me gently on my lips, running his fingers into my hair, before pulling away, and turning on the car. "Now let's try this again shall we?"

He truly was breathtaking when he smiled. It was then I decided I wasn't going to be cautious or hold back. I was just going to give 100% and hope for the best. Worst case scenario; i get to have a night with Roman Godfrey, Best case, well I wasnt sure what the best case was but i bet there was a Pinterest or two dedicated to it. 

"You remind me of her so much. Your attitude and free spirited carefree nonsense..." He said wistfully.

"Letha?" I asked.

He nodded slowly.

"She must of been a fucking legend," I joked."Time to sing fool!" I howled.

"You really don't forget do you?".

"um, nope. I'll go first, and you can see how I do it and then, we will switch, and you sing while I drive, and so on and so forth."

"What makes you think I'll let you drive my car?"

"Because I can afford to replace it and you don't give a shit about material possessions anyway." i huff.

He laughed and agreed.

"Prepare to be entertained!" I belt out "Zombie" like i  was on stage performing for thousands. I knew I was an excellent singer and I wanted to impress him and it was clear i Had.

 "Could you sing one more song for me?"

"Sure. What song you wanna hear?" i asked excited he liked my singing.

"Geri by Super Humanoids."

"Oh I like that song." I found the song and started to sing. I decided to use two voices for the man and the woman singer. I sounded kinda silly but I had good range and could do high notes as easily as very low notes. It was actually a challenge sounding so ridiculous and we both laughed and laughed when the song ended.

"Switch." I yelled.

He sighed dramatically, but he pulled over. I jumped out my side and he stepped out walking around the front of the car. Just as we were about to pass each other, I grabbed Roman by his blazer and pushed him against the grill kissing him hungrily. He was all for it and switched positions with me pressing me against the large Mercedes symbol. I reached for his belt buckle and looked at him for permission.

"Wow really?" He hissed mischievously.

"I'm giving you 100%, I'm not being afraid of you, I'm trusting you." I looked up at him innocently. "Can we try that?"

"I don't know beautiful. I've never done that, and we hardly know each other, and you don't want to try that with me." He said looking everywhere but my eyes.

"Yes I do." I stated. "Don't be a pussy, what are you afraid of?"

He looked down at me, still hesitant but with a sparkle in his eye. "I'm terrified of you."

"wow. honesty. youre turn. ask me anything!"

"Tell me your darkest secret... " it was an order, but he wasn't trying to compel me. This was sincere curiosity on his part.

"wow you don't fuck around! Well the date might be over when i tell you, but here goes.' why this question I scream in my head, before blurting out, "I killed my parents, I'm not sorry, and if given the chance, I'd do it again." Shit. That was a bit of an overshare. I could of left out the last half.

Romans eyes grew wide and his eyebrows shot up as he took a few steps back from me. "Fuck baby, you don't gotta tell me why, but did they deserve it?"

"Yes." I said without hesitation. My heart sank as he looked at me strangely, unreadable to me.

"That's so fucking hot." He closed the gap between us and pulled me over to the passenger side of the car, seating me on the seat, facing him as he stood between my legs. His kisses were so fevered and desperate. It's like he was starving and I was the only cure to his hunger. He stripped my shirt off and whimpered when he saw my breasts in my sexiest lace bra that only covers less than half my breasts, and at 36D, that's quite an eyefull. He slipped my nipple into his mouth, circling each nipple several times before sucking on them hard and then lapping at them back and forth at a feverish pace. He pulled my panties off, but left my jean skirt on, and plunged his fingers inside my soaking wet core, using his thumb to rub circles on my clit.

I reached down and unbuckled his belt and pants, freeing the biggest penis I had ever seen. It was more girthy then usual and quite long. No wonder he was so arrogant. "Let me suck your cock please." i stated. I have an admitted oral fixation, and quite enjoy wrapping my lips around a nice cock. theres something about making a man melt, and be putty in your hands, that gets me excited. 

"Yes mam." Roman said breathing heavily and groaning as I run my hand up and down his shaft. He backed up and I got on my knees assessing his cock. My god IT IS EVEN BEAUTIFUL! How is he so perfect? I opened my mouth as wide as I could and barely fit it inside. I had no gag reflex, but even with that advantage, I could only handle a little over half of the total cock in my mouth. I used my hands to work the rest of it, making sure to play with his balls and look up at him now and then. 

He moaned "oh baby, You're so fucking good at that. I swear baby, you are the fucking best blowjob ever and that's saying a lot." He was breathing heavily and watching every thing I did with great interest. "Can I fuck your little pussy now please? Cars keep passing and totally know what we are up to, so we need to hurry, but first I need to bury my cock deep inside of you."

I stood up, wiping drool from my chin, and bent over the seat, offering Roman to take me from behind, but he flipped me around crushing me with his lips as he shoved his cock deep inside me. I couldn't help but to cry out. I'd never felt so full, it was amazing. Anyone that ever says size doesn't matter, is a fucking liar. If I hadn't been so wet, it may have been an issue, but luckily I was embarrassingly dripping.

"I want to see your face as I fuck you, is this ok?" roman moans kissing me deeply again.  "Why do I feel so fucking attached to you like I'm in fucking love with you? What have you done to me angel?" He whimpers as my breath hitches and i nod that I am ok, so he picks up the pace and I scream out his name.

"Harder Roman! It hurts so fucking good. Fucking break me baby,I'm gonna cum, don't you dare fucking stop." I held on to him as I felt my orgasm building up to near spilling over when I felt his teeth sink into my shoulder causing my release to hit me like a tidal wave and I bite him back, Digging my teeth in his collar bone, tasting his blood splash into my mouth.

"Where do I cum?" He asks frantically, peering into my eyes, pupils blown out, looking fucked out and helpless.

"Back up." I ordered. He did so and I got on my knees and opened my mouth as He shoved his cock down my throat and convulsed, shooting his load down my throat. I get up and he grabs my face smiling.

"Baby you look so fucking crazy. You bit the shit out of me." He says pulling me to the rear view mirror, to see the blood and drool all over my face. 

I grabbed some napkins out of the glove box and poured the remainder of my water on it, so I could clean off my face. I did the best I could and got in the driver seat. I looked over at Roman and he had this dopey look on his face. "You okay?" I asked.

"I think I'm smitten." He said dreamily. "That was so fucking hot, I will go play fucking mini golf or fucking bingo or wherever the fuck you want,I don't give a shit. I want to make you happy."

I looked over expecting a joking demeanor but there was none. He was serious. I was right about him, he just needed someone to love him most. He needed to be the boss and in control and to feel special and I was going to give him that.

"You've got me 100% Roman. Now choose a song. Don't think I forgot!"

"Do we get to do that every time we switch because if so, I'm gonna have a fucking marathon karaoke session up in this motherfucker." he said with a twinkle in his eye. 

I genuinely laughed with him, intoxicated by this strange feeling we were feeling. Happiness and attachment, were no friends of mine but for once i wasnt afraid,which was insane! If there was ever a boy to be afraid of, he was it, but not tome. To me, he was just perfect.

[vateacancameos]

Chapters: 1/1 Words:1629 Fandom: Sherlock (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Mrs. Hudson Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Mrs. Hudson (Sherlock Holmes) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, vague depictions of domestic abuse, Domestic Violence, Friendship, Tattoos, Healing Series: Part 2 of Tattoo My Name On Your Heart Summary:

Prequel to Secrets Are Mine to Keep. 

Martha Hudson needs to heal after leaving an abusive situation. She stumbles upon a Sherlock at the beginning of his tattooing career. He helps cover more than scars.

This can be read as a stand-alone, but works best when read in conjunction with the previous story in this series. If reading this before Secrets Are Mine to Keep, just know that Sherlock is a tattoo artist instead of a detective.

(CW for mentions of domestic abuse)

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

Martha Hudson married young, but that didn’t make her stupid. She knew the likelihood of Frank being The One was highly unlikely, but she was in love and he had a great car and a gorgeous body.

There might have been a chance at some long-term happiness if they’d stayed in England, but Florida did her husband no favors. It started with a bad crowd and moved to late-night drug deals and a few people being permanently hushed. But Martha liked an exciting life, so she went along with it, if a little uneasily.

Even then, she might have loved Frank until the end, except that he decided that running a drug empire meant he should start testing the product himself, and like Florida, drugs did her husband no favors. The first time he hit her, she passed it off as a one-time thing. He’d been stressed already, and then she’d nagged him about some chore he’d forgot to do. It wouldn’t happen again, though. They loved each other.

Except that it did. Not often, and nothing so bad that a little makeup or a long-sleeved shirt wouldn’t hide it, but a couple of times a year, it did happen. And yet she stayed. Because Frank needed her. Because where could she go? Because their friends would side with Frank. Because she had no formal education and no skills beyond book keeping for a drug lord.

In the end, fate got Martha out of the bad situation she had found herself in. Frank learned about the warrant for his arrest two hours before the cops arrived. It was enough time to accuse Martha of tipping them off. Two hours later, he left in a cop car with blood on his hands. Martha left in an ambulance with blood on her back.

***

read the rest of the story after the cut or on ao3. 

When Martha met Sherlock Holmes five years later, she saw in his eyes the moment he understood what had happened to her. She walked into the shop on a whim because she wanted to cover the scars. Sherlock was finishing his apprenticeship and was given the walk-ins. He’d been stiff in his greeting, and Martha almost walked back out again. But then he’d looked, and he’d seen her, so she stayed.

After his knowing look, he asked only one question, very softly. “What did you wish for?”

A thousand regrets clamored in her head. There were so many moments she could have ended it. But what came out of her mouth was “I wish I’d flown away.” It was a silly, childish wish and not at all what she’d been thinking, but Sherlock only nodded.

“I need to see them.” They were in a private room, but Sherlock was a young man and Martha was from an era where you didn’t just strip off your shirt in mixed company (unless in specific situations involving exotic dancing). But she was doing this to learn to be brave and to forget her past, so she took a breath, turned to face away from him, and lifted her shirt.

Sherlock’s hands were gentle and warm. He was a perfect gentlemen as he measured her and asked a few questions about placement.

“I need time to work on some ideas,” he finally said, and her heart dropped. She didn’t know if she’d be brave enough to do this if it was drawn out. But then he continued. “Come back tomorrow at noon.”

She settled her shirt back in place and turned to face this solemn young artist she’d been assigned. Looking at him, she could tell his past was no rosier than hers. Despite their differences, she felt a kindred spirit, and her courage came back.

“Alright.”

***

The sound of smashing ceramic and an angry shout almost had her bolting back out of the door, but she took a breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked into the shop. The young man behind the counter rolled his eyes. “Ignore the freak,” he said, pointing to the room where Martha had met Sherlock the day before. “He’s a toddler sometimes.”

“Oh. I have an appointment with him …” She fiddled with the strap of her purse and frowned at the man’s words. ‘Freak’ was a little harsh. These creative types were always overemotional. You’d think people working in a tattoo shop would be used to that sort.

The man sighed again just as Sherlock stomped into the front area. His fierce walk stuttered to a stop when he saw Martha. “Ah, yes. Just a minor setback. Let’s … um, go out.” He exited as quickly as he’d entered, but he was back a moment later wearing a dramatic coat and carrying a sketchpad. He nodded for the front door, holding it open for her (such a gentlemen) as they exited.

“I’m afraid I’m having … difficulties visualizing your art,” he explained after they’d found a nearby café and sat with their drink. He frowned down at the cover of his sketchpad. “Normally …” He shook his head and scrubbed a hand through his wild curls.

“Everyone gets … what’s writer’s block but with art? Artist’s block?” She patted his hand. “It’s alright.” Funny that she was the one comforting him. She did that a lot.

Sherlock scowled. “Not to me. I see a person, and then I visualize their tattoo. It’s what I do. My process has never failed me before.”

“Can I help?”

“What? No. How could you help?”

Martha shrugged. “What else do you need to know? Should I tell you my favorite colors or my childhood dreams?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Purple and dancing. That’s no use.”

She sat back, startled. “Oh. Well. That is impressive.”

He raised his eyes from where they’d been focused on his cup. “You’re not scared I’m some sort of stalker?”

She laughed. “Oh pish. No. You’re observant is all. You said so yourself. So. Tell me what you need to know so you can design my tattoo.”

He sighed dramatically. Oh, yes, this boy would be a handful.

She smiled. “Fine. I’ll just start talking until you tell me to shut up.”

And she did. She told him about her childhood best friend, the stray cat she took in right after she got married, how the weather in Florida always felt wrong. She talked about her wedding day, her older sister, the uncle sent to prison for making moonshine during American Prohibition. She talked and talked, and Sherlock never stopped her. She wasn’t sure he was always listening, but she could see that his brain was working, so she figured she was doing something right.

“And then, they ended up arresting Frank on tax fraud, of all things! He shot a man’s head off and there wasn’t a word, but the moment the government wasn’t getting its due, they raised a fuss. Oh, America. Such a strange country.” Odd how she could talk about that without feeling a thing. And it really was funny, when you thought about how it all went down, minus the hospital visit.

Sherlock’s head shot up. “They have the death penalty in Florida, correct?”

“Oh yes, but not for tax fraud.”

“But for shooting a man’s head off, they would.”

She nodded half-heartedly. “They can’t charge him for that, though. He’s very good at what he does, my Frank.”

“So am I,” Sherlock replied slowly.

“Well that remains to be seen. Seeing as you’ve reneged on our deal to have a sketch ready by today.”

“No, the other thing. I help the police with cases sometimes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh really.” It was sort of sweet how he tried to talk himself up. The poor boy must not have received enough love growing up. Her heart broke for him. He needed someone in his corner.

“Fine, I’ve helped a policeman. Once. And I was sort of high at the time.” He waved a hand. “But that doesn’t matter. I am capable of doing what the detectives do. And far better.” Sherlock grinned. “I’m going to put your husband on death row.”

She stilled. Despite the glib tone, she knew he was serious. At least serious about trying. And yes, they were talking about death, which should never be mentioned lightly. But really, if Frank was put on death row, it was only his own fault for not following American laws. He should be bound by those punishments, shouldn’t he? But it was Frank, and no matter what he’d done, she did love him still, in a way. But …

“I can’t afford to pay for both a tattoo and a detective …” she began slowly.

He leveled a disbelieving look at her. “You took care of his books for years. As if you didn’t squirrel away some money of your own or find a way take the bulk of his fortune after he, well, after.”

“Well, I never.” But she was smiling. He really was very good at his job. Well, one of his jobs, it seemed. She could do worse than to believe in him.

***

In the end, it took less time to find the necessary information to put Frank away for good than it did for Sherlock to design Martha’s tattoo. Still, she couldn’t complain. Her freedom was worth more than some pesky scars she only rarely saw. More than that, Sherlock made her feel comfortable with herself again. The poor boy needed someone looking after and believing in him. And she needed to keep busy.

By the time he’d come up with the final draft of the tattoo, they’d become business partners, opened a little tattoo shop, and Sherlock had moved in upstairs. And truly, the tattoo was worth the wait. She might not be able to fly, but the wings on her back made her feel like she could do anything.

[megamegaturtle]

gorgeous (chapter two)

Spencer Reid x Reader Fic

warning: friendships be forming with extra cuteness and realness.

(i will never post a chapter at a reasonable hour, i swear lol)

part one

(Ao3)

WC: 11.K

Summary: You’re early for your first day at work, but the universe is a funny thing where butterfly wings cause hurricanes from a wing’s single flutter. A story about how you and Spencer become friends and one day lovers.

tag list: @everyday-imfangirling @gigiree

Your story is starting, a new beginning with a new friend, when your doorbell rings on a quiet Saturday morning. A butterfly swarm wreaks havoc in your stomach, anxiety and nerves old friends you thought you forgot, but find you again with a little knock knock. You take a deep breath as you stuff your feet into house slippers. It’s too late now to cancel and fake sick.

Coming towards your door, you pause and fluff your hair in the mirror, trying to look presentable and clean one last time. You look through the peephole, the moment of truth wrapped wearing purple and a long brown coat. Doctor Spencer Reid rocks on the balls of his feet and you promise yourself not to throw up.

  (You really want to throw up.)

  Pressing the passcode into your alarm, the device happily beeps as you undo the chain latch and unlock both deadbolts. You pluck a bright smile to wear.

  “Hey! Hi, hello—” oh dear, you’ve greeted him three times, might as well continue. “Hola, uh, ni-hao, hmmm, aloha, howdy, ohayou, bonjour—and yeah, welcome to my humble abode.”

  A small smile rests on Spencer’s mouth, laughter at the edges. “Hi.”

  You open the door wider and let him walk past you. Last second you snag the strap of his messenger bag unexpectedly, pulling him to a quick stop. Your nails briefly scrap the fabric of his coat before you shut the door behind you both.

  You’re doing great, you tell yourself. A for effort.

  A moment ticks before you point down at his feet, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Sorry. I have a no shoe policy.” Shuffling around him, you open a small cabinet and pull out a thing of slippers. “You can wear these if you’d like. They’re new! Or socks are fine, but no shoes please. Too much grime and stuff.”

  Doctor Reid nods, mildly curious but nevertheless, sits down on your bench and pulls off his shoes. You notice his mismatched socks, deep purple and ruby red. You giggle and find them to be a good omen.

  Spencer shoots you a brief look. “Yes, yes. They’re not matching, but I like them.”

  Tension rolls out of you as you quickly redo your door and reset the alarm. “No, it’s cute. I hardly wear matching socks myself.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mainly because I’m very lazy to match them up together again though.”

  “Well,” you hear him say, “I do mine for a bit of luck.”

  You laugh again and gesture towards the kitchen.

  “I guess today’s gonna be your lucky day.”  

  (Or maybe it’s yours since you’re so excited to have company with someone so cute.)

-

“You’re doing the recipe completely out of order.”

  “Not completely out of order,” you say as you whisk the dry ingredients together. “Just...slightly out of order.”

  You don’t bother looking up at Spencer, but you can feel his frustration roll off him like hot waves filling every inch of your kitchen. You do your best not to snicker at his expense as he reads to you the banana bread recipe once again that he’s already memorized perfectly.

  “If you just set up everything before you started kind of mixing, this would have been a lot easier,” he chides, mashing ripe bananas into a bowl.

  “Says the man with two perfectly good hands!” You shoot him a look, huffing incredulously.

  “That I am using,” he points out.

  If would have known you that a year ago that you’d have Dr. Spencer Reid in your kitchen making banana bread, you would have laughed so hard you would’ve cried. But here you are doing exactly that with you both talking. There is bickering and bantering. And your kitchen is filled with such delicious laughter that you might weep.

  If only you got the courage to be his friend ages ago, just think how many more baking days the two of you could have shared. If only, if only.   

  “What are you anyway? Some kind of scientist or something?” you say, cracking the eggs in a small bowl.

  Spencer’s face falls completely flat, but his tone only bubbles into annoyance as you flick flour his way. “Well, yes! I’m a doctor! And a bit of a scientist, I guess!” His hands fly up in the air, accidently knocking into a pot that hangs above your small center island.

  You burst out laughing. “Chillax, my dude! Please don’t go breaking my kitchen,” you say between deep laughs. “I want my security deposit back.”

  Spencer taps the counter with displeasure. “Then please just follow the recipe. This is like watching a bad chemistry experiment. Baking is a science,” he emphasizes.

  You click your tongue. “Nerd.”

  “Am not.”

  “Um, are too,” you reply as you wipe a random spill. “Besides, baking is about love and love is more than some chemicals in your brain. It’s magic and all that stuff. And no facts you got tucked up in that noggin of yours is going to tell me otherwise.”

  Reid takes a deep breath and chuckles quietly. “Are you always this...sassy?”

  You flash him a quick grin. “Always.”  

  You grab the butter from the freezer and slice ¾ a cup to soften in the microwave as the kitchen quietens to the happy hum of radioactive waves. You look over up again, noticing Reid holding his chin in his hand, staring at you.

  It’s a bit intense. The way he’s looking at all of you in your movements. His eyes pierce through you, catch your breath. It’s like you’re pinned under a microscope, chest ripped open with your soul exposed.

  “Hey, don’t know if you know this, dear Doctor,” you try to joke, “but this is a no profiling zone.”

  Spencer blinks once and denies it, his voice going an octave higher. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t profiling, I was thinking. Vast difference.”

  You scoff, playfully rolling your eyes. “Oh no, believe me. I heard you thinking. I think everyone in the greater D.C. area heard you thinking, but,” you pause, grabbing both the white and brown sugar from across the island. “But I know exactly what you were doing and I don’t need you to profile me in my own home.”  

  Spencer remains quiet, a silly grin digging into his cheeks at your indignation. You huff once more and accidentally put the mixer on high in the dry ingredients bowl. Your surprised yelp is drown out by the sound of the beaters hitting the blow and Spencer’s laughter.

  Flour, thankfully, is only slightly everywhere.

  Your face runs hot as you turn it off.

  “You're so stupid…” you mumble. “Shouldn't have invited you over.”

  He takes a big gulp of air, but happiness still paints his face with a smidge of curiosity. “Why did you invite me over? Not that I mind helping you bake, but…” he shrugs.

  You...merr. As you call it, not a grr or a groan, but your distress sound of merr that conveys all negative and embarrassing things in one small and concise phrase.

  Spencer senses your discomfort and everything shifts to the unspoken words that the two of you haven't dared exchanged. He patiently waits as he leans against a counter and sips a glass of water. The only sound in the kitchen is the slight scraping of metal on metal as you whisk the dry ingredients again.

  “Because I am sick of bad thought spirals,” you confess. “I'm sick of doubting myself and not being a good person and just--it’s dumb. I'm dumb. The whole time so like...fuck thought spirals where I don't think I'm good enough to be your friend.” You pause, you heart thumping in your chest and you—

  — promised yourself that when you doubt yourself, that you’ll just dive head first, be impulsive because when you stop thinking, just for one moment, things go better than you’d ever assume. Your brain is your own worst enemy. So, you keep that racing heart and you clutch it tight. You feel your stomach twist and you don’t care anymore because you are taking a stand and this is your day and you

  —are in control.

  (Even if your brain tells you otherwise, if it tries to break you down again, make you stop talking, make you push all your fears into that little black box that sits at the bottom of your spine and let history repeat again and again.)

  Butterfly wings cause hurricanes and you’re breaking down barriers with the wind at your back, wings jutting through your shoulders to carry yourself higher. No safety, just free falling into the moment, into this next commitment because you can’t turn back time.

  “So, yeah. Fuck that nonsense. I’m gonna be your friend and I’m gonna friend you so hard and you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

  (You remember the triangle your therapist drew for you one day, about how bad thoughts consume you and you just sat there thinking you needed to break it. That you were stronger than arbitrary shapes that attempted to define you.

  That you were good enough.)

  You force yourself to look Spencer in the eye, well aware his brain is going into overdrive at what you said. How could it not? There was so much to unpack. Low self-esteem, self-hatred, wobbly self-worth.

  But you will not falter. He will not forget your promise and you will not let yourself break it.

  But he does the doctor thing and asks. “Are there good thought spirals? Is this a good thought spiral?”

  He smiles small yet sincere and joy radiates from the center of your stomach, tender blooms unfurling in your bloodstream as relief sings throughout you. Your nose burns with intense emotion, your eyes wanting to shed tears, but you don’t want to be a crybaby in front of him.

  You turn and wipe at your eye, ready to cream the butter and sugar together. “No, this is a good action spiral. Kicking down doors kind of thing.”

  “Sounds intense.”

  “I’m kind of an intense person,” you quip.

  “I figured. I kinda profiled that about you,” he teases.

  You throw a dishrag at him, the worries you had disappearing as you hear his laughter mix with yours. Being impulsive has proven once again to be your aid.  

  He comes to stand beside you, a good distance between the two of you but there is a connection and a comfort there now. You two are no longer separated by your center island, but are now standing on the same side of the room. He waits patiently as you cream the sugar and butter.

  “Hey,” he starts, “by the way, don’t think that I’m not gonna—what was it?— friend you hard too,” he softly confesses.

  You beam so wide the apples of your cheeks scrunch your eyes. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  You quietly finish mixing the rest of the ingredients as Spencer beings washing a few assorted utensils. Soft music plays from your phone, your hums sometimes in time with a tune. Butterfly wings brush against your heart as you both work throws this friendly new beginning.

  You fill both pans halfway with batter and pop them in the oven. Setting the timer, you glance over at your cozy living room area.

  If this was a different kind of social call, you’d suggest watching something on Netflix. Throw in a perfect excuse to cuddle close and test boundaries to see how much you could get away with. But you refuse your heart the luxury of daydreaming something more passionate and most likely to be a plot from a nameless romance blurring in your memories.

  Instead, you focus on reality, on being a better person than you were yesterday. You promised yourself you’d be more open—make this friendship happen because deep in your bones, you have this feeling that having Spencer Reid in your life will be worth it.

  You take a deep breath and catch his attention. A nervous smile paints your face as you gesture towards the other side of your apartment. “C’mon. I wanna show you something.”

  Spencer tilts his head with curiosity, but his steps pad quietly on your floor as you creak the second bedroom’s door.

  “Excuse the mess,” you say, flicking on the bright overhead light.

  Fresh paint perfumes the room. Canvases line the wall, stacked neatly by a lone bookshelf jam packed with art books and an old, beloved chair. A plastic tarp rests in the center, an easel propped up with a wet piece.

  You hear Spencer gasp, his attention fixed intensity on the portrait you’re still painting. Your heart flutters as you wait for him to speak.

  (You think it funny, that for someone so filled with words, art makes him speechless.)  

  “Wow, —” he says, your name soft in his mouth. “I didn’t—didn’t know you could paint!” He rushes, his words starting to fumble. “It’s—she’s so beautiful. Who is that?”    

  Love blossoms throughout you as you take a step forward and trace the rough edges of the canvas with your fingers. Luminous dark skin and a tender smile fill your vision, the ghost of laughter ringing in your ears. Her eyes twinkle at a joke you told her, this painting a representation of a candid photo you took earlier in the year.  

  “My soulmate,” you explain with affection. “A girl named Rosa, who I love absolutely without conditions.”

  Spencer doesn’t say anything for a few moments, as if choosing his words carefully. He stands near your, his questions wrapping around you almost like a physical thing. “...what’s that like? For you to sound so sure?”  

  You think of late night conversations and exchanged e-mails, the calm that follows that if you need her, she’ll be there. In the trust of free falling without a parachute that she would defy gravity for a single moment to ensure your safety—that you would do the same. It’s—

  “--never to be obligated to love someone, that I love her simply because she exists and there is peace in that. She is—She is my other half: my thoughts easy for her to untangle, the two of us on a shared frequency I’ve never had with someone else. We have no expectations of each other, just the hope to be lifelong companions and beloved friends.”       

  “Just hope?”

  His unspoken question: is that truly enough? There is doubt in pause, his avenue unexplored by him and many others. To just love a friend as an extension of yourself and not want more.

  You glance up at him and smile. “Of course. Just hope. Can’t make Rosa stay in my life nor can she do the same to me. We don’t cling to each other, Doctor. We just choose to exist with each other,” you say. “Rosa is—Rosa is not someone who I love romantically—that...that has requirements.”  

  Spencer reaches out and touches the edge of the painting. “Like what?”

  “Mmmm. Well, I have to be sexually attracted to that person, for one. And that person needs to pay attention to me and spend time with me. That person has to have similar values as me, same wants to build a life together with me. This person just won’t be my soulmate and I’m not looking to fall in love with a soulmate,” you add with a small laugh. “Rosa is my carbon copy and I’m looking for someone to compliment me, make me a better person, challenge me—well, you get the picture, I think.”

  (You thought you found that person already, already had two greatest loves of your life, but that—that, of course, never happened.)    

  The room falls quiet and you swallow, realizing you just—emotional dumped all over the good doctor and horror washes over you. You turn to him, your eyes wide and panicked, your hand flying to your mouth.

  “Oh my god, I am so sorry, that was like—extremely personal and a lot to handle and—”

  Spencer blinks before grinning, his hands tucked into his pockets. “No, it was...nice. You really love her and...and I don’t know, that sounds nice, to love someone without conditions.”

  His eyes gaze away, as if he’s looking for something in the distance and your heart feels heavy in your chest. There is a bittersweet softness there and you wonder if his mind drifts away to someone else.

  “Can I—” you try to say. “Was it—?”

  —like how I love? you want to ask, but you don’t. The question too personal on your lips, but you know he’s heard it anyway.

  Hazel eyes flicker to yours, a haunting smile hanging to his lips. “Maybe a bit of both, by your definition.”

  “That’s still beautiful.”

  “Is it?”

  “I think so,” you say, guiding him back to the kitchen. “Love is like beauty; in the heart of the beholder.”

  “You know it doesn't go that way,” Spencer’s voice says behind you.  

  You grin. “True, but do you want your heart to be constricted by other people or do you want to decide for yourself?”

  It is quiet for a moment, the sounds of the oven the only thing making noise.

  “What if I never move on? What if I never want to move on?”

  You take a deep breath, choosing your words with care. “I think...I think if you feel that your love with Maeve is able to sustain you for the rest of your life, that's awesome. Breathtaking even. To be that devoted to someone even through…” you swallow, bracing yourself to mention the elephant in the room, “death. But,” you pause, “life continues, Spencer. It just depends on how you want to interact with it. I know for me, I need that kind of love in my life and I have a big enough heart to fall in love again. Yours seems to be a bit different.”

  Spencer’s face pulls into a tight smile. “I always seen to be a bit different.”

  “Different is good though. It’s human to be unique, or rather, it’s American to be an individual. You are only a byproduct of your nation,” you say, cheeriness in your voice. “And as for love, whatever makes you happy, Spence—-er,” you quickly add, feeling your eyes going wide at almost calling him his nickname. “Only you get to decided that, Spencer,” you emphasize the er .

  The corners of his mouth relax and his smile becomes more genuine. “Thank you, ——,” he says, your name only adding to the moment of friendship. “I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime, Doctor. I’m always here.”  

  And if there is one moment you can keep from today, it will be this one. Where sunshine streams through the window and outlines Spencer in a glorious halo. He smiles once more, wonderful and bright, like starlight and good things and trust for new beginnings.

  “I know.”

-

You get lost in D.C. on weekends when work isn’t busy. There are sights to see, history under cobblestoned streets and your breath finds reason to stop ceasing. It’s beautiful, to be in your nation’s capital, but sad to discover all on your own.

  When not exploring, you call Rosa, missing her company more than anyone from back home.

  Sometimes you leave her long and detailed voicemails retelling your day. You might leave two or three because you have so much to say. Yet sometimes, there are no voicemails to leave, not when she picks up on the very first ring.

  Her voice is soft and sweet, mousey and kind. “Hello, bestie?”

  She always answers like it’s a question, like she can’t believe that you’re actually calling.

  (You call on a schedule. You’re predictable this way and yet, after all these years, she still finds magic in your friendship, like you’re not quite all there.)

  You squeal at her voice. “Rosa! I misses you!”

  Her laugh bells gloriously. “I misses you too. How are you? Did you eat?”

  “Yes, mom. I ate. I’m good. Just chilling at home. It’s—lonely, truth be told.”

  “Mmmm,” she hums. “You’re always a bit lonely it seems. But you’re making friends! Like with Dr. Reid and Penelope! And Derek!”

  “Yeah, I am... I guess, just,” you say, your voice quieter as your trace your feelings on your thigh. “Lonely. I think I’m always a little lonely.”

  “That’s because your heart is too big for your chest.”

  “Are you saying I’m the opposite of the Grinch?” you joke.

  “Of course! That’s why I love you.”

  She says it so effortlessly, like listing a fact. Which it is. Rosa wouldn’t be your soulmate if she didn’t love you You can’t help but smile fondly at the way she boldly declares it.

  “I love you too. When will you become a real doctor and become my sugar mama?”

  “Maybe after I pay off my student loans,” she chuckles. She pauses and you can sense her question. “Have you...have you thought about dating again?”

  You suck in a breath. “Dating is hard...I wouldn’t even know where to start...”

  “Oh, where’s my lion girl?” she chides. “You’re always so brave and yet you’re gonna run away again. Last time you ran away, you weren’t able to make a friend for two years, right?”

  Rosa might wax lyrical poetry to you often, but apparently tonight’s not the night for her endless praises.

  (She tells you what you need to hear despite that it’s not always wanted.)  

  “....okay, rude. And I don’t know! Dating means being vulnerable and how am I supposed to open myself up to a complete stranger again. Every boy I’ve ever dated has been a friend.”

  She clicks her tongue, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why don’t you date a boy at work then? Aren’t you friends with them?”

  “Rosa, you’re like the smartest person I know, but that is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. Date a boy at work, she says. Like there are boys for me to date at work.”

  “Well, I think there is one man you could date—-”

  Your heart speeds up and you know exactly where this is going to go. It’s filed under “do not think about” for a reason.

  “Oh, what’s that, Rosa?” you say. “Your patient is calling you? I’m going through a tunnel? Oh no! I can’t hear you--bleh!”

  You hang up and toss your phone across the couch. Your heart is still racing as her text message comes through.

  Think about it, dear. You know you want to .

  “Ha, how wrong you are, my dear,” you say as you type back your reply.

  (But not really. Rosa is hardly ever wrong about you.)  

  -

  “Thanks for coming with me tonight, Penelope.”

  The moon hangs fat in the sky as you pull out of the parking lot. Your cheeks are still cold, but your belly is full from delicious hot pot. You think of home and your friends who would go out late to eat shabu shabu. You’re glad you gotta do it again here.

  Penelope giggles and rubs her hands together to create some heat, waiting for the car’s heater to kick in. A part of you wishes that you opted for the model with heated seats, but Penelope doesn’t seem to mind, her mittens jiggling with little bells.

  “No, thank you , Miss Speed Racer! Tonight has been mind blowing. From an all-woman car meet to hot pot? I don’t think I’ve had hot pot? It's so delicious! Cooking all the meat, or my case tofu, and veggies. Like soup fondue!”

  You grin and pull out of the parking lot, enjoying the way streetlights filter through the windshield. Like a little meteor shower as you go by each one just for you. Make a wish and see if it comes true , you loftily think.

  “Haha. It is a lot like soup fondue! But it's just a fun thing to do and the girls were so lovely. I'm glad there is a woman car community in D.C.!”

  “And what was that thing you were talking about the girl with pink in her hair? Something like tashi? ” Penelope asks.

 “Itasha,” you state. “It means ‘painful car’ as in painful to look at or to your wallet. It's wrapping your car with vinyl mostly these days with anime or video game characters. Dudes are more into it than ladies, but it’s really cool driving around in a customizable car, I think! I would want more like Japanese pop-culture art on my car such as acid bears or something more than a hot anime girl, ya know?”

  It’s part of the reason you bought a Japanese sports car. Itasha . Despite that it can look silly, a part of you would love to have a Kingdom Hearts dedicated wrap or something bright like Fruits Basket.

  Penelope laughs and the sound warms your soul. It’s sweet, her ability to be completely expressive. “You really are a weeb, aren’t you?”

  “Oh yeah. I am, but it’s just for fun. I like the pretty colors and cool fantastical stories and stuff. The way they just—blindly do the impossible and create worlds that are based on the impossible alone. That’s amazing and so, so hopeful…is that wrong?”

  “No, no. It’s just—I didn’t realize you really liked Japanese pop culture so much or that you were so knowledgeable about it.”

  “One of my capstone projects in college was about the American otaku community,” you say with a laugh. If only that version of you could see where you are now. Then you had wanted to be a diplomat and now you work for the FBI. Go figure.  “It was for a class about fandom. Which, I must add, was a heckin’ blast.. So yeah, I might know a thing or two when it comes to trends and stuff,” you conclude with a satisfied smirk.  

  “That is so, so, so fascinating.”

  You snort. “Don’t get me started. Please.”

  “Oh, I think I want to get you a little revved up!”

  You shake your head, giggling slightly as you gun it on the highway.

  “Okay. Here’s a little fun fact for you: there is this growing trend called itabagu which means ‘painful bag’. Like the same thing with the painful car, right? It's more popular with the lady people so they can show off pins and keychains of their favorite characters. When I went to an anime convention last year, there were all these backpacks for sell that had a clear cut out, so you could decorate it however you wanted. It just so neat to see how everyone stylized their fandom love. So much boy love. Everywhere.”

  “Why do you have this wealth of knowledge and have not been using it for evil ?” she stresses, glee drenched in her voice as you her see her googling away. Her mouth pops open as she sees cute bags and happy faces.  

  You laugh. “Like you said, I’m a weeb. Just a wonderfully dressed one! I keep my super geeky side a secret until the waters are safe. So much indie makeup is like… fan related too, you know. Shiro Cosmetics is dope for that. I really want a Backstreet Boys lip gloss.”

  Penelope wheezes, clutching at her heart. “There is Backstreet Boys lip gloss and this is the first I’ve heard of it? And I call myself a goddess of the internet….”

  “I think! I think that they still make it. I do know for a fact that at one time the creator made Nicholas Cage theme lipgloss and you could get one of Nic Cage dressed as a flapper.”

  Your friend is thoughtful for a moment as she relaxes against the door. You can feel her gaze focused on you as you drive her home. “I’m really glad we became friends.”

  You snort again, surprised. “Thanks?”

  “No, seriously! I mean it, you silly goose. Ever since you walked into my office two years ago, you have just been such a delightful person and I’m glad we really are good friends.”

  You smile softly to yourself, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Well, um, thank you,” you mutter. You click your tongue. “You know I’m terrible with praise…”

  “Now that I know!” Penelope chuckles, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, now I really want to go to a nerd convention with you! We can dress up together! Wouldn't that be fun?”

  You smirk to yourself and cackle. “...woman, have you not found my cosplay Instagram?”

  You almost swerve into oncoming traffic as Penelope grabs onto your arm while driving.

“YOU HAVE A COSPLAY INSTAGRAM?”

  (And yes, you do. Though it might not always be safe for work. Wink. )

-

Friendship slowly sinks into your skin as words become easier with Spencer. Gone are the days you couldn’t talk to him. No, you can talk to him just fine now. Just about anything that floats through your mind.

  “And, yeah. It’s just crazy to think that bananas have caused so much strife in Central America at the turn of the 1900s that companies like Chiquita—the one with the lady on the label, right?—known apparently as the United Fruit Company—oh my god, Spencer,” you pause, halting your steps and staring at him with wide eyes. “What if there was a UN of Fruits?” you whisper. “Little fruit diplomats .discussing international fruit policy!”

 Without missing a beat, Spencer nods thoughtfully. “Well, the International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD) is an international financial institution and UN specialised agency dedicated to eradicating poverty in rural areas of developing countries. Or there is The Committee on Agriculture (COAG) is one of FAO’s—Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations—Governing Bodies providing overall policy and regulatory guidance on issues relating to agriculture, livestock, food safety, nutrition, rural development and natural resource management.”

  You blink and tilt your head to the side. “I meant more like...fruits dressed up as politicians talking in funny accents,” you explain. He frowns slightly, almost as if he was the one who said something wrong. “But thank you for that new fun fact for my mental folder of other fun facts!” you add, bumping into his shoulder playfully.

  It’s a reflex. The touchyness. You know deep in all your rationality that you should not pat-pat, or playfully bump, or touch your co-worker. But then you have your brain stem doing complete overrides that make you do it anyway. Be friendly, that animal brain says—show people affections because you’re good at that. Do onto others what you’d like them to do to you. Isn’t that golden rule?  

  So, far—no one has mentioned any discomfort at your friendly displays. They accept your endless high fives, waves, thumbs ups, and quick hugs. Even Hotch doesn’t scowl if you wave at him when you see him or smile big or get too close. And there has definitely been a friendly clasp of your shoulder when you’ve done something right.

  (It took everything inside of you not to squeal with delight, but Hotch laughed anyway. Actually laughed, his stoic mask cracking. A part of you was afraid you brought upon an apocalypse.)

  But Reid is different. He doesn’t shake hands with strangers and only hugs people when he’s extremely close to them. Despite the ease in conversation between the two of you, you don’t think for a moment that you’re in his most inner circles.

  It’s like how in Japanese where everything is dependent of the relationship between the speaker and the other. How close they are physically, how intertwined their lives are together. Will you say kore if they’re right here, use their first name, and drop all formalities with them? Or do you are say they are , over there in distance, so far from you in friendship where last name-san is all you get with awkward smiles and stereotypical politeness.

  You feel like you’re in the middle, you feel like you’re stuck in sore —just only close enough to the person speaking to be listening, but not quite close enough to breathe correctly and relish in the proximity where language falls away. That there are no distance markers forced between the two of you and you happily be right here instead of over there .

  (Oh, if Penelope thought you were a weeb before hoo boy, if only she knew your thinking process.)

  But troublesome doubts about relationship language evaporate when Reid shakes his head and opens the door for you as you walk into the office. “That’s me. Your fun fact guy.”

  (He’s getting better at making little jokes, you notice. Or maybe he’s getting more comfortable making little jokes. Or maybe you’re rubbing off on him because that is something that you would most definitely say or—)  

  “Yes! And—and—oh yeah, I almost forgot,” you say as you gain your bearings again. “It’s crazy that unlike other cash crops like cotton, coffee, sugar, tobacco, or even cocoa, bananas aren’t processed at all really! They don’t spur for the development of other industries like textiles or more processed procedures. You just buy bananas from the store exactly how they were picked. The simple banana in all its yellow peeled goodness has caused so much trouble over being exactly how it is!”    

  Derek picks his head up from his desk and stares at you, shamelessly eavesdropping “Wait, what?”

  You turn to him, eyes bright and laughter in your voice. “It’s bananas there are Banana Wars, Morgan. Bananas!”

  Derek takes in a deep breath and laughs, going back to his paperwork. “I don’t even want to know.”

  His posture says otherwise, but you both know that if you get started on a random topic again then you’ll just continue down that road and get completely distracted.

  Spencer chuckles quietly before walking over to his desk. You do the same, your mind drifting back to political fruits and you can’t stop smiling.

  Reid clears his throat, getting your attention. “Have you ever heard about the Cake War in Mexico?”

  Your eyes go wide as you let out a bubbly laugh. “No! Tell me!”

  His relief is palpable, as if he thought you would say “no” about Cake Wars in Mexico, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.

  “Okay, so it’s actually called the Pastry War and it began in 1832 when a French pastry chef known as Monsieur Remontel claimed that Mexican officers looted his shop outside Mexico City. Remontel and others continued complaining until Prime Minister Louis-Mathieu Molè demanded that Mexico pay 600,000 pesos or about 3 million Francs. Which, considered at the time, was an outrageous amount since the daily Mexican person only made approximately one peso a day. When president Anastasio Bustamante did not make the payment, the King of France ordered his Rear Admiral Charles Baudin to declare a blockade on all Mexican ports. And that is only a tiny bit on cakes caused incredible strife in Mexico.”  

  “Oh, you can’t end there, Spencer!”

  “Okay, okay. After the City of Veracruz was captured by France and Mexico declared an all-out war, people started smuggling goods into Mexico—”

  “ Baked goods, I hope.” You’re not a very good punner, but you try your best.

  Spencer’s eyes narrow at your jest. “Ha ha, well, more like flour and one smuggling party had to leave about a hundred barrels of flour on the beach— which later will be known as Flour Bluff. And despite the fact that Mexico and France eventually came to a peace agreement where Mexico had to pay the 600,000 pesos, they never do and since France falls in 1870 and yeah. The Pastry War ended up affecting so many lives and really nothing came of it. Now, how is that for bananas?”

  You open your mouth to reply, but Derek beats you to the punch. “The only thing bananas around here is about why the both of you—Pretty Boy I can understand, but you Sunny Girl, I’m disappointed—happen to know about meaningless wars.”

  You stick your tongue out at Derek. “You’re just jealous that we’d beat you in game of Trivia Pursuit.”

  Derek smiles and gets up from his desk. “Okay, you got me there. I’m gonna get more coffee and you both can continue.”

  You roll your eyes and start to settle into your desk. Spencer’s silence alarms you and risk taking a glance at him.

  “You okay?”

  He hums. “I was just thinking...you don’t really get annoyed when I start rambling about things.”

  “Well, duh. I love to learn, Doctor. And you teach me new things all the time. Why would I be annoyed by that?”

  “I don’t know, just a lot of people are and you’re…not. That’s, as you would say, rad.”

  You huff with a small laugh. “I’m glad I’m rubbing off on you a little bit then! But yeah, I mean, sure you can ramble but so do I. I think it’s rad you don’t stop me when I start talking about a subject that you already know about. It's nice for me to have the chance to explain despite that you already know said thing. You acknowledge that I’m dying to tell someone, anyone who’ll listen.”

  “I know that feeling,” he adds with mirth. “And I don’t mind, you have a fun way of telling me about things. I like that about you. Your enthusiasm is refreshing.”

  You swallow, your heart racing up without your permission. “Thanks!” you squeak, your smile weird and squirmy.

  Your gaze drops down to files on your desk and you trace one with your finger, unsure what to say next, but you can’t deny how feeling blossoms in your chest. How something so offhanded and minor could make you feel—

  ( You’re so intelligent. You’re so fashionable. You’re adorable. You’re— )

  Nope.  This road is not worth travelling.  

-

You set up a Tinder and swipe right a few times.

  You delete the app before you can go on a single date.

  (Sometimes guys just give you that serial killer vibe and honestly, no thanks.)

-

You’re finding your place in the BAU. Making a name for yourself with management that supports you. Penelope watches over you and guides you, but Hotch is the one who calls the shots. You find yourself at his desk one morning with a coffee in your hand.

  He looks up from his paperwork briefly and welcomes you to sit.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Hotch’s voice is always quiet. You strain to listen and root yourself in the conversation. His speaking voice is different than his business voice when he’s barking orders at people. In the four walls of his office, he’s at peace and it carries in his cadence.

  You nod and place the coffee on his desk, an offering for so much more than you’re about to say. “I just wanted to say thank you for hiring me. Today’s my five-month anniversary with the BAU and well, just thank you.”

  He puts down his pen and looks at you. Sometimes you feel like he can see into you, see all the things you’re hiding, that you’ve covered up deep in your soul. His lips then curl in small yet meaningful smile as he grabs the cup and pulls it towards him. A small blessing seemingly washes over you.

  “You’ve been a great asset to the department, I think. Garcia was right about you.”

  You suppress a giggle, wanting to remain professional, but gently smile. “Don’t tell her that. She’d be so over the moon.”

  He huffs good naturedly into his cup. “Now, that I know,” he says. “But I truly mean it. I’m glad you’re part of the team. Our line of work isn’t easy and you’re bright, caring, cheery, and efficient. We couldn’t have asked for a better addition.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And now that you’ve gotten over whatever complex you have towards Reid, the team functions well. The storming session is over so to speak.”

  You don’t comment on that, but you grin bashfully. “Um, well. It was immature and silly of me.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

  “I think it was human. Everyone reacts to him differently, but yours came from a place of admiration and that to me seems more positive than negative.”  

  “The world is too tiring to always be negative, but either way, I’m glad I’m part of this amazing team.”

  Hotch nods and takes another sip of coffee again. “Congrats on five months. Hopefully, we can make it to at least five years.”

  Determination ignites through you. “Most definitely, sir.”  

-

You are lost in a world of beauty. White flowers cover hillsides and pleasing music echoes for all to hear. There is a handsome man with dark hair and blue eyes wearing an adoring smile to a lovely woman. The relief is palatable between, the months apart straining their very souls.

  Someone taps on your shoulder and you jump, an earbud falling out of your ear. Your phone clatters to the desk as you whip your head around to glare at intruder.

  Spencer stands sheepishly behind you, rubbing the back of his neck. His hair is getting long again, touching the top of his collar. “Ah, sorry. Just wanted to know what you’re reading. You’ve been kinda quiet these days.”

  You’ve been on a book binge and everyone knows it. You’ve been staying up late, eyes glued to your phone as you suck down another book at any moment’s notice. Or fanfic. Just something written that makes your heart squeeze so tight you feel like you’ll die from happiness.

  (You might have a problem.

  But you’re not going to call it that.)

  Spencer is curious, staring at you with pretty hazel eyes, wanting to know what you’re reading on your devil device. He’s so tall in this moment, towering over you easily. It reminds you of the first day you met him, with excitement and glee at your edges.

  “It’s not a classic,” you say. “Or even anything scientific.”

  He shrugs. “It has to be good if you’re so into it. You’re reading a trilogy, right?”

  Profilers. Always so perceptive. You take a deep breath and swallow. “Do you promise not to judge me?”

  “Why would I judge you?”

  “I don’t know. I like weird things?”

  “I already know that. You have two full bookshelves devoted to manga in your bedroom.”

  You cross your arms and roll your eyes, trying not to grin.  “That’s not weird.”

  You remember his outrage last time he was over. He was helping editing your dissertation, so you could submit it to academic journals. While you were working on the latest draft, curiosity got the best of him and he asked if he could check out the bookcases in your bedroom. His outspoken horror at your intense graphic novel collection was comical that you found yourself being distracted for the rest of the afternoon by sharing your favorites with him.

  (He’s far more fond of your shoujo than anything else—much like his soap operas.)   

  “Maybe disappointing is the right word then,” he teases, smug as he leans slightly closer towards you.

  There is a pull in this moment, calling you to stand up and brush the hair out of his eyes. You wonder if his hair is soft, what his skin under your fingertips would feel like. You allow yourself this brief guilty pleasure.

  “You’re only upset that I don’t have classics for you. Besides, classics are weird. They’re what the youth call boring.”

  Spencer doesn’t take the bait at your taunt. He rises up his on his tiptoes and decides to be cocky instead. “Your current favorite musical is about a Russian classic.”

  “So? War and Peace is a lot more digestible when there’s singing. You should give it a listen like I suggested. The Great Comet of 1812 is amazing. Trust.”

  “My mother would skin me alive,” he says with a laugh. “And look, I’m willing to ignore the finer pieces of literature to know what you’re reading. So, please tell me? I want something new to read.” The slight begging in his voice makes you smile to yourself.

  “Okay. Um. I’ve been reading retellings of Hades and Persephone. I really like them. They’re cute, but there’s not many of them. Most of them are indie books or from small presses.”

  “Oh, really? And you mean the Rape of Persephone, right?”

  “Spencer, you and I both know that you know that it means ‘to abduct’ and not to actually rape.  Don’t start.”

  You puts his hands up in surrender. “You got me.”

  (His eyes twinkle and there is a fondness in this exchange, if only you knew so long ago that this person would mean so much to you.)

  “Anyway, just be glad I’m slowly getting over my alien hero romance stories. Because, hoo boy. Those would be...” you giggle mischievously. “Yeah, anyway. Hades and Persephone. This one I’m re-reading is the Receiver of Many . Super solid, really pretty. Maybe one too many sex scenes that kinda distract you from the main story, but it’s good. The second book, Destroyer of Light , now we’re talkin’. We definitely see Persephone come into her own and yeah. The makings of the Iron Queen are happening! It’s a good series, but it’s definitely borderline erocita.”

  “Uh.” He makes a face, clearly uncomfortable.

  You try your best not to laugh. “But this doesn’t sound like your cup of tea.”

  “I don’t think it is. Sorry.”

  You pause for a moment, tapping your finger against your chin. An idea strikes you then, bright and fresh, like the story still seared in your mind from the other night. “I do have something I think you’d like.”

  “What is it?”

  You reach for your phone and exit the current book you’re reading, deciding to dive into your Kindle Library. It’s still there at 100% completion, the book that stole your heart and made you start reading like a madwoman again. You swipe all the way left, finding an image of the book’s cover. You flip your phone around and show him.

  “Deathless ?”

  You girn. “Yes, Deathless . It’s about Koschei—the Tsar of Life.”

  Spencer studies the cover, his fingertips brushing against yours as he takes the phone. “...who hid his soul inside a needle, hidden in an egg, within a duck, within a hare, which is in a chest, buried under an oak tree on the island of Buyan.”

  “Yes. The very same. But it follows his young bride Marya Morevna and it is...” you say wistfully, your heart feeling full as you remember each stunning line. “It is like dreaming a glorious dream, Spencer, drenched in tradition and unapologetic with its descriptions. It’s grotesque as it is beautiful, with gnarled hands and fiery blazes.”

  He glances at you, a goofy smile on his face. “You love it that much?”

  “More than I’ve loved anything else lately,” you dreamily sigh. “Finding a good book is much like falling in love again.” He hands back your phone. “You should read it. And take your time.  Read slow, soak up every word”

  “You want me, of all people, to read slower?”

  “I want you, of all people, to feel like you’re in a good dream. To sit there in a world someone created and absorb every moment. Anyone can read fast, Spence, but it takes discipline to read carefully. Don’t tell me that big brain of yours can’t create an intricate world?

  Spencer hums. “My imagination is...not as detailed as my memory,” he confesses. “It’s more like impressions compared to the visceral things I recall.”

  You lean back in your chair, your fingers tapping on your phone. “That’s okay, as long as you enjoy it. Make them good impressions. See something beautiful, however you define it.”

  “Okay, I love to read, but even that sounds too romantic.”

  “Be romantic, Spencer,” you say, tapping his shoe with yours.  “Life is more fun this way. Gooey and cute.”

  He wrinkles his nose, humor etched in his expression. “I’ll think about it.”

- 

Later that night as you’re brewing a cup of tea, your phone buzzes with a new text message.

  You are right. Being romantic is a little fun.

  Did you like it?

  I’m going to send a copy to my mother.

  So, you loved it :D

  Yes. The rhythmic repetition, how food is revered as if gold, the way the idea that physical act of living is so painful while death more muted. The mixing of magic and not. It really was beautiful.  Thank you for the recommendation.

  I’m known to have a few good ones now and then.

  Now, if only you’d actual give War and Peace a try you’d see that you would like it just as much.

  Never! TOO MUCH COMMITMENT.

  (But of course, he doesn’t know it yet, but you are reading War and Peace , just very slowly.)

-

  No matter the time of year, California heat greets you with a searing, passionate kiss as you make yourself outside of Bob Hope Airport. You’re home for a three-day weekend, going to wine and dine your mother in celebration of her healthy life.

  You spot her before she sees you and run towards her like you’ve done thousands of times before. This time, you’re the the bigger and strong one; you scoop her up in your arms. Her embrace is warm and she smells exactly the same, like childhood and comfort all in her small frame.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” she says.

  “I’ve missed you too, Mom. So, so much.”

  California traffic is like an old-toxic high school friend—somehow all you can ever talk about, but never changing for the better. But you don’t care as you drive home to the middle of nowhere. Your mom and your aunt bought some land in farm country. The new house isn’t the same one that you knew as you were a child, but it feels good to look up stars in the sky that aren’t airplanes or streetlights.

  “I’m so glad that you’re home,” Mom says as you pull into the driveway.

  You smile at her, watching as your cousins peek from the front door.

  “Me too.”

  “Next time you should bring a boy,” she winks.

  “Mother!”

  (Home is where the heart is and you’re just happy you carry yours with you.)

-

You take a sledgehammer and pound it into the wall. Tugging it out, you see there is a sizeable dent in the plaster and you grin, sweat cooling your face as you lift it and swing it again. You’re like a metronome, constantly hitting with even timing, the sound of the wall breaking music to your ears.

  You’ve been here for a few hours, helping Derek demo a house he plans on fixing up. You wanted to learn some hands on handyman things and he offered immediately. Plus, destroying stuff is a lot of fun. Not that you actively destroy stuff, but it’s hard not to pretend to be some robust viking alien creature hell bent on decementing the Earth.

  You hear a low whistle after your last smash and there is Derek standing in the doorway with a bottle of cold water. You breathe a small word of thanks before happily taking a soothing swig.

  “Look at you go, Sunny Girl. You don’t look like much, but even I gotta admit you pack a real punch.”

  You stick out tongue out at him. “I’m my mother’s only child so I have to be her daughter and  son.”

  “How’s she doing anyway?”

  You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. “She’s good. Her treatments went really well and her doctor says it looks like she’s in a state of remission. We’re just lucky we caught it so early or things could have been a lot worse.”

  “That’s great to hear!” he smiles. “I hope she can finally come out to visit soon.”

  Derek Morgan’s smile is such a sight behold. It’s warm and kind and you feel safer knowing he’s in your corner. His well-wishes and good attitude brighten your days beyond compare and you know exactly why he’s so important to Penelope. He’s just so—effervescent and wonderful to be around.

  “Thanks, dude. And thank you for teaching me how to demo today too. I mean, it’s always the best parts of the HGTV shows and it’s kinda fun that I got to do it with such a rad person.”

  He laughs, deep and rich from his belly. “Consider yourself lucky,” he jokingly warns. “Not everyone is allowed to come to the properties, but you’re a quick learner. And dang girl, I never want piss you off if here is a sledgehammer hanging around!” he exclaims as he points at the now mostly damaged wall. “Look at this! You’re just going to town in here.”

  You giggle. “Teehee. What can I say? You just gotta grab the bull by the balls.”

  The room falls silent as you both realize what you both said. You sputter and start to shout.

  “By the horns, I meant by the horns!”

  It’s useless over Derek’s loud laughter, vowing to never let you forget this.

  Despite blushing madly and feeling extremely embarrassed, this day has already been perfect. You’re slowly spreading your limbs, creating friendships with the team on your own. It’s wonderful. To spend time with people one-on-one. You’ve been lonely for so long.

  “So, I gotta know: are you seeing anyone?”

  You snap your attention back to him and scoff. “Did Penelope put you up to this?”

  “My Baby Girl might have mentioned that you’re not seeing anyone and well, I think that’s crazy. You’re young. Enjoy life. Have fun!”

  Your lips twist and you shake your head. “I don’t know...I don’t think I’m ready right now. I was with Matthew for a long time and now...I’m not.”

  “But you haven’t been for how long? Like almost over a year, right?”

  “About a year or so, yeah. I thought he and I were going to start a life together. Get married, have two point five kids together while saving the world. But he’s in California and I’m here so. That didn’t happen.”

  Bitterness sits in your ribcage, reminding you of broken promises. Of the life you’ll never get to have with the man who no longer exists.

  “Would you want to get back together with him?”

  “I mean, a part of me will always love him. He was this bright innocent kid when we started college. And so, so smart. He really is intelligent.”

  Derek smirks. “Reid is intelligent.”

  You roll your eyes. “Reid is emotionally unavailable and I don’t need to be a profiler to guess what you’re gonna say next.”

  (You hope he doesn’t say it next. This is the one thing you don’t allow yourself to think about except in special situations.)

  Derek puts his hands up. “Hey, wasn’t it you who said he was intimidating and awe-inspiring. And oh yes, my favorite bit, when you first met our resident genius, you called him gorgeous? Wasn’t that you or some other little adorable short stack?”

  “Well, yes,” you say, a seething smile on your face. “That was me, but just because Spencer is objectively attractive, doesn’t mean that I’m actually attracted to him. He’s a co-worker and a friend.” Derek scoffs in disbelief. “What? I can find people attractive! Ben Stiller’s cute!

  “What? No. That’s terrible,” he chides. “Ben Stiller? Really. Ben Stiller? C’mon, if you’re going down the celebrity route, pick a better one.”

  “What! He has cute ears. Okay, George Clooney.”

  “Everyone thinks Clooney is hot. I think Clooney is hot.”

  “Alright fine. Garrett Borns.”

  “Who?”

  “Google him.”

  Derek does and his face breaks out in a shit-eating grin. “Oh my god. He looks almost like Reid. This is great. Is this your type? Tall and skinny?”

  “No, my type is quirky, intelligent, and…tall,” you mumble.

  “So, Reid.”

  “And Mattie! Looks nothing like Reid by the way. He’s tall, but he’s Indian, really buff, and might actually have a British accent,” you blush.

  “I promise if you admit you’re attracted to Reid, I will stop bothering you about it.”

  You stomp your foot. “You’re annoying, you know that? Fine, yes. Spencer Reid is very attractive in my books. There. Happy?”

  Derek comes over and pats the top of your head. “Very.”

- 

Winter leaves you less cold this year, your heart warm from extra cheer. Your mom comes to visit in excellent health. You exchange presents with your co-workers and everything seems like it’s going according to plan.

  Your heart is a little empty, wanting to sip something sweet, but you can’t fault that there is progress in friendships that nestle in the soil under your feet. You have a family away from your family, a place to call home when you feel weary.

  Midnight strikes and you leave kisses on everyone’s cheek, promising another sweet year with them.

- 

There are days when cases happen right in the heart of D.C. and your heart sinks when come across somber faces in the bullpen. Never has you worked such massive overtime, assisting Garcia with analyst duties as her back-up. You don't bother wearing makeup when your skin feels so dehydrated and the purple under your eyes a new permanent feature of your face.

  It is also the rare moment the team takes a small break to eat breakfast when Rossi grins at you.

  “So, a little birdie told me that you said Reid is attractive.”

  Spencer, bless him, chokes on his food. You, on the other hand, almost spit out your coffee.

  Quickly, you turn towards the culprit and kick Derrek under the table. “You’re a snitch.”

  Penelope plops down beside you and steals a piece of fruit off your plate. “Technically I was the snitch.”

  “Wow. Et tu, Brute? Betrayed. Be-trayed.” You pout and stab a piece of bacon.

  Penelope leans her head on your shoulder. “I love you.”

  You playfully push her. Across the table, Spencer is beet red and you feel your face pain with a blush of your own. You clear your throat. “Well, to be fair, I think everyone on the team is super attractive. I mean, have you all looked in the mirror lately?”

  Derek teases. “Nice save, princess, but I know what my ears heard.”

  You glare at him. “Yeah, well, I thought what’s said at demo house stays in demo house, but look where we are now. But yeah, I do think Spencer is attractive…I guess.”

  J.J. laughs, clearly enjoying this situation far more than you realized. “You guess? My memory might not be as good at Spence’s, but I will not forget the day Spencer came super dazed to the office because this pretty girl dressed in purple called him gorgeous. I did not see or hear any brain activity for hours.”

  You laugh, partly due to embarrassment, partly due to surprise. “Oh my god, you thought I was pretty? That’s precious!” You place your hand under your chin, posing cutely. “You’re not wrong though!”

  (You ignore the way your heart is speeding up. If you keep making jokes, hopefully things will go back to normal.)

  Spencer carefully takes a sip of coffee, avoiding making eye contact with you. “I mean, yeah. You were pretty. All dressed up for your first day of work…” he hums. “It was cute.”  

  “Okay, but our Little Miss Sunshine here is also leaving out she finds Ben Stiller attractive,” Derek taunts. “Ben Stiller. And a Reid doppelganger.”

  You kick him again under the table before glaring at your other co-worker. “Rossi, look what you’ve done. I thought we have an unsub to catch and yet here we are talking about who I find attractive. This is how we’re spending the American tax dollars?”

  “What can I say, kiddo?” he says with a soft chuckle. “Though, Garcia did say your ex was a good-looking guy.” His eyes twinkling with curiosity.

  You sigh in defeat and grab your phone. “Such nosey profilers, I swear,” you mutter.

  “That’s why we’re so good at our job.”

  You look up Matt’s instagram and you still when you see the first picture. It’s your ex-boyfriend with a very beautiful woman, long blonde hair and perfect white teeth. You bite the inside of your cheek and swipe to the next one, thankful there’s no company in this one.

  You show the team your phone, a picture of Matthew shirtless on the beach with a surfboard at his side. He’s toned and bronzed, his black hair tousled perfectly atop his head. He’s definitely been hitting the gym, his arms and six pack looking good.

  (You definitely hope he still feels miserable and cries himself to sleep at night.)

  J.J. lets out a low whistle. “I thought he was supposed to be quirky, not a Calvin Klein model.”

  You laugh. “He has his moments.”

  Derek looks down at his arms for a moment, his little moment of insecurity a wonderful taste of revenge. “I take back making fun of you for Ben Stiller. Geez, do all your ex-boyfriends look that good?”

  “One looks like a mountain man now, I think; however, I’ll be sure to parade whatever new guy I end up dating next to get your seal of approval,” you say with a huff.

  Spencer wears an unreadable expression. “Well, we’d only think about your safety.”

  J.J. giggles at his side, but before you can question anything, Hotch enters the room and before you know it, you’re all back to the grind.

-

Thankfully, the case ends two days later on a happy note. You’re free to have a few days off much to your relief. Freedom will only be yours if you can get to your car fast enough. Most the the team has already gone home for the day, so you find yourself alone at the elevator, waiting to go down.

  Or, rather you think you’re alone. Spencer appears are your side, a little winded, but softly grins.

  “I’m so glad we can go home,” he says, engaging in small talk.

  Spencer doesn’t do regular small talk. His form of small talk is spewing fun facts and hoping to make the other person laugh. What in the world?

  You cast him a sidelong glance, unsure where this is leading. “I just want waffles and cup of coffee.”

  He takes a deep breath. “...do you mind if I join you and—”

  “And give you a ride home?” you continue, wanting to follow this rabbit hole.

  “Please?”

-

You end up in a diner not far from the office. It’s quaint with old booths and even older waitresses. You love how shabby it looks. You order coffee and waffles while Spencer does the same.

  The car ride over was quiet, but now that you’re seated at a booth, you break the silence. “While I don’t mind the extra company, what’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing is on my mind,” he says quickly, ignoring your curious stare, he plays with the sugar. “I just want to spend time with my friend.”

  “Spencer.”

  He peeks at you, his face wincing. “Was I that obvious?”

  “A bit. Mainly because we both live in opposite directions from work and while I usually am a helpful person, I’m like literally the last person you’d ask to drive you home since it’s so out of my way and you are a polite person.”

  “...okay, that is all true, but—”

  “No buts, just what’s on your mind, bud? I feel like we’re about to get extra deep up in here.”

  Spencer taps his fingers against the wooden table. You watch as he forces himself to commit to this. “I don’t know about extra deep, but yeah, my reason is personal, if that’s okay.”

  “Just ask and we shall see. I’m sure it’s fine.”

  He takes his time, thinking carefully before speaking. “I just. I know you were with Matt for a long time and just…how do you know that you’re ready to move on? I thought you were planning to have a life with him and everything.”

  Oh. Well.

  This was not what you were expecting.

“Okay, um. Well, this isn’t the first time my heart has been broken,” you start to explain, “so I have that going for me. And yes, I originally wanted to be lifelong partners with Matt, but I understood why we didn’t work out,” you say, your words rushed and weird. “First of all, a nation was between us. Second, our goals didn’t match. And third, we changed in ways that no longer parallel each other.”

  You mark each point with a new finger. You list them as facts, the pain of saying them out loud barely there now.

  He’s quiet again, your reasons hanging between you two. “And do you think you’re ready to move on?”

  “Are you asking for my well being or for your own?”

  Spencer sucks in a breath of air and you wait as he thinks of an answer. You try to eat, but your waffle isn’t as good as you remembered it being. Everything feels kinda cold.

  “Despite losing Maeve,” he says, and you know this will not be an easy conversation. “We were only together for one hundred days give or take...and I never even held her hand, but the idea of moving on from her hurts.”

  You press your lips together and lean into the booth, trying to string something positive and encouraging to say to him, but you only have one though.

  “Then don’t move on.”

  “C’mon,” he scoffs, “even I know that’s not completely healthy.”

  “I don’t know, Spencer. I have a great-aunt whose husband died while saving his daughter and it’s been over thirty years and she hasn’t dated anyone since. That was the love of her life, as she was the love of your life. It’s just like that sometimes.”

  “Yeah, she was—but I don’t know. This is the one thing I don’t know no matter how many times I try to reason it out. Just because she’s not here doesn’t mean I need to stop living...”

  “Emotions aren’t rational, Spencer. If you don’t feel ready, you don’t feel ready. Our situations are totally different anyway. See, for me, the things I miss the most aren’t Matt. Matt can go fuck himself, but the things we did together? The way I felt? That’s what I want.”

  “What do you mean?”

  You play with a ring on your finger, needing to fidget as you open up your heart. “I miss...the security of knowing someone would always be there. I miss the dates we would go on. I miss holding hands and falling asleep to one person. I miss hugs and kisses and—just everything that makes up a relationship. Unlike you, I don’t miss a person. I miss a sequence of actions. Totally different.”

  “Missing a sequence of actions does sound a lot better, I guess, if you have any to remember,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s confessing something he doesn’t say often.

  Your heart aches for him. “You really never even met her once?”

  “No.”

  “Not even for a date?”

  He shakes his head.

  And the rest of the world goes on as normal, as if you didn’t just hear the most heart shattering thing.  The diner is still somewhat noisy in the mid-morning. A kid is laughing, a waitress is calling out orders to the kitchen, and a fork clatters to the ground, but you’re stuck processing this confirmation, your heart twisting with every moment.

  “I apologize for the lack of filter, but holy fuck, Spencer. That shit is tragic. Like I can’t even comprehend.” You bring your hand to your mouth, wanting to cover up all the pity that’s resting on your tongue. So, you choose not to say it. “I’m sorry that that happened. And that sucks and I don’t know anything else to say, but you’re totally allowed to be hung up on this. I would be so, so, so hung up on this! Actually, I think I am getting hung up on this for you right now!”

  He lets out a weak laugh. “Thank you. I think you’re the first person who told me it’s okay to not move on. I... I don’t really talk about her to...anyone, but it’s kinda easier with you. You don’t make me feel like I’m obligated to feel a certain way about it. I feel less stupid about it, I guess. It was a just a mess, from start to finish.”

  “Yeah, but who cares, it was your mess and no one can take that away from you. And it might be the romantic in me, but your relationship with her, the bits I do know, like the letters and your meet cute is rather...cute. It sounds like there is more good than bad.”

  “I like to think there was,” he says, pushing his food on his plate.

  You set your fork down and lean back into your seat. You don’t need to be a profiler to see exactly what Spencer is feeling or thinking. But most importantly, you know your friend needs you and you refuse him to continue now this road alone.

  And then an idea strikes you like lightning. Brilliant and bright, coursing delight through you as see everything coming together in your mind.

  “You know what,” you start, confidence in your voice. “We’re gonna do something fun. How good are you with spontaneity?”

  “Uh, pretty good considering my job.”

  You grin and link your fingers together. “Perfect. Okay, so tomorrow you and I are going to go an amusement park for funsies.”

  Spencer’s mouth twists. “...funsies?”

  “Yes, funsies. You desperately need it. So, dress down,” you order. “Comfy shoes and jeans please.”

  “Um.”

  “And you can’t say no because I’m doing you a huge favor by going super out of my way to drive you home as you told me a sad story over breakfast. And I’ve been dying to go anyway, so there’s that,” you finish saying in a rush.

  You might have presented your case more childlike than intended, but Spencer seems to take be taking it into consideration. That is a victory in itself.  

  After a few moments, Spencer nods his head. “Okay. But there’s one problem.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t own any jeans.”

  (You do your best not to face palm.)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Warmth|Robbie the Zombie x Reader

Hello again~ I’m absolutely in love with Robbie atm xD So I decided to make a little fic for him, too ^^ On a side note, I appreciate the feedback I got on my Halloween/Chase Brody story, so I’m a lil more confident in posting my stories here ^^ Welp, hope you all like this one~ * Casually tags @narutofoxlover @robthezombie-support-squad and @ego-protection-squad :3 *

"That idiot's been outside for at least half an hour," Anti grumbled, a frown appearing on his face as he looked out the window only to see the zombie sitting down right in the snow. "Is he gonna come in or what?" Henrik got up from his spot on the sofa and walked over to where the demon stood, peering out the window himself. He blinked with surprise. "Rob's still out zere? Vell...at zis rate he'll turn into a Popsicle for sure." Anti shot a look at the doctor, but before he could make a snarky, sarcastic remark, you spoke up. "I'll go get him." Henrik and Anti did a double-take, as did the other egos, when they saw you putting on your boots. "Vhat? But..you'll catch a-" "The snow's only falling very lightly," you pointed out, standing up, "so I know I'm not gonna catch anything. Plus..Robbie usually listens to me more than any of you." Henrik opened his mouth to protest, but....he realized that you made several valid points. It's only been a week or so since Robert, a zombie that was "accidentally" revived by Marvin, became the newest addition to Jack's egos. And even now, he was still trying to adjust to living with them. After the fear of being eaten no longer became something for either of you to worry about, you hung out with Rob a lot, sometimes helping him with his slow and limited vocabulary. Obviously the other egos helped out, too, though the zombie seemed most comfortable whenever you were present. "Vell....alright..." Henrik sighed in defeat. "But I mean..vhy can't Anti just glitch out zere and-?" "Because last time I did something like that Rob nearly tore my fuckin' arm off," Anti reminded him. "I'd rather not have that happen again, thank you very much." The doctor scowled at the demon, but didn't say a word as he saw you grab an extra scarf and head towards the front door. "Vait..[y/n].." You glanced back at Henrik, tilting your head. "Yes?" "Just...be careful, alright?" "Okaaaay mom." Rolling your eyes, you put your hood up and stepped outside, before shutting the door behind you. "Hehehe...hey "mom"~-" "Anti I vill not hesitate to stitch zat annoying mouth of yours shut, too!!" ...... As you shuffled through the snow, you looked up...only to find that Rob had vanished. 'Oh shit...' The color on your face drained as you quickened your pace, praying that he didn't go too far. Then again, though, he is a zombie, and they move incredibly slow so it shouldn't be too long before you found him. When you came to the forest's edge, you could see him sitting on a tree log, gazing up at the clouded sky. And he seemed to be...smiling? It was then you recalled him saying how he was trapped in prison for many years in his past life, and thus had forgotten what the outside world was like. That might explain why he didn't come inside yet--because he was so fascinated by something as simple as snowfall. Before long, Rob noticed you, flinching, at first, at the sight of a human, but then he calmed down before his instincts got the best of him. "[Y/n]...?" "Yep, it's me, Robbie," you told him, a smile on your face as you approached him. Then you sat down next to him, sighing. "I..I was worried that you ran off or something." "No..." The zombie shook his head. "...ground...too....cold." "Ohh..well good thinking. Here.." You showed him the extra scarf you brought along. "...I know you probably don't even need it...but..." "Th...thanks.." Robert took the garment from your hands, though instead of putting it on, he just stared down at it for a few seconds. "Umm.." He glanced up at you, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "...Robbie...doesn't...know how..-" "Ah, lemme help you with that." Giggling a bit, you took the scarf back and turned to him, placing it behind his neck and carefully wrapping it around him. "There ya go~" You smiled after ensuring that it was snug and not too tight. "Th...thank you.." The zombie's smile returned, before his gaze returned to the sky. "...the... snow is...pretty..." He reached his hand up, allowing several snowflakes to fall into his palm. You nodded in agreement as you also looked up and rubbed your gloved hands together. "Yes. Yes it is, Robbie." "Robbie...almost...forgot what the...outside is..like..." Looking back at him, you saw him staring at you. There was a frown on his face, although what was more concerning was that his white eyes seemed to be glossy and red around the rims of them. "..R-Robbie wants to thank you...and...Jack....an' the others...for helping Robbie....remember......" You blinked several times, surprised, before smiling and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Not a problem, buddy. We're always gonna be here for you, helping you regain your humanity...one day at a time. Don't let that mushy brain of yours forget that, okay?" For a few moments, Rob was silent, before his smile once again. "Robbie... won't forget. But..um..." He paused, biting down on his lower lip gently. "Hmmm? What's up?" "C-Can Robbie have..a hug?" The zombie muttered shyly, opening his arms up to you. Raising an eyebrow, you giggled at his request. "Sure thing." You scooted closer and wrapped your arms around him carefully. "How's that?" "Feels good.." Rob nodded, burying his face into your neck. "You're so...warm..." He mumbled into the fabric of your hoodie as he hugged you tightly, pulling you closer to him. A small blush appeared on your cheeks, but you sighed and rested your chin on his shoulder. "I'll take that as a compliment." For a solid minute or so, you both stayed that way, until you heard distant yelling from the house. 'That's probably Chase doing some dumb trickshots again......' "Alright, Robbie...we should head back before the others start thinking we got lost." You tried to pull out of the hug, but the zombie clung to you, nuzzling your neck. "Nooooo....staaaaay...warmth......" With another sigh, you wondered what you should do now...and then an idea popped up in your mind. "Then...how 'bout I carry you back?" Rob pulled away to look at you and nod. "That's fine...can't feel my...damn legs.." He muttered, glancing down at his black jeans. "That's what you get for sitting in the snow for too long, silly~" You snickered, seeing him pout a bit. Who knew a flesh-eating zombie could be so adorable? "I'm only teasing ya, Rob...alright let go of me for a second so I can carry you." Reluctantly, he complied, although he let out a small noise of surprise when you picked him up bridal-style. To your surprise, he felt rather...light. But that was probably due to the fact that he hardly ever ate anything besides human or animal flesh. "Hang on now." Nodding once more, Rob wrapped his arms around your neck, cuddling closer to you as you began the trek back to the house. Now it was his turn to blush as you entered and saw the egos staring at both of you in silence. But eventually smiles became present on all of their faces, including Jack's.

[alchemyphan-blog]

This Was Not a Love At First Sight Story

word count: 2.9k

style: oneshot

desc: Dan works at a cafe and starts pining over a regular customer who likes to order ridiculous coffees and edit his videos. 2009 AU. Written in 2014. 

a/n: it feel so good to be back and posting vvvvv old fics i wrote!! more to come :) 

also an ancient fucking relic when it was cool to write in first person lmao bye this is cringe

Monday, 1:48 P.M.

Working the midday shift guaranteed for quite a different vibe of people. People weren’t rushing around to get their coffee and breakfast, and it wasn’t loud and obnoxious like the dinner shift. It was so laid back, and people always had an inviting presence.

It found itself particularly inviting on a certain day in October.

I cleaned the counter willingly, as given this shift actually made me more looking forward to going to work each day. From behind the counter I watched as people started to occupy the restaurant. One particular man walked in a few minutes after the midday ‘rush’, and sat right in my ideal view. He opened his MacBook, coated in a layer of vibrant stickers. I smiled, and right away I could tell the kind of guy he was - I had earned the ability to do that ever since I started working here. He was the kind of guy that would go for a long time without saying something, then out one of his thoughts. It was like he was running wild in his own place, and was a visitor of the real world. He was the kind of guy I had always wanted to have in my life.

He looked to be about 22, which made it almost impossible for me to talk to him, me not even 19 yet. But I watched him from behind the counter. I could see a sliver of what was on his laptop - it was his own face. His mouse dragged segmented clips of himself with a tiny lion on his shoulder around. I watched him there for at least two minutes before willing myself to take his order. I just happened to be working that section today, a part I never usually do. Something welled up inside me and I felt like it was for a reason. Surely I was just being silly. This was not a love at first sight story we’d tell our kids.

And then I realized - in the time span of 4 minutes I had imagined us with children. I sighed, and lightly slapped my cheek as a discipline for thinking that. You don’t even know his name, I thought.

I looked behind the counter I was stood at and adjusted my hair in the gargantuan mirror. I straightened my black polo I had worn for the past 5 shifts of work, even though I had two others.

Okay Dan, stop this. Just take his order and get out of his hair. What is your problem?

 I found it in myself to open the notepad shaking in my clammy hands.

“Hi, w-what can I get you?” I managed out, my voice cracking. I felt so stupid.

He let out a chuckle. Without looking up from his laptop yet, he began to respond.

“Erm, I’ll have a caramel macchiat-,” he started, his eyes glazing over me. I suddenly felt extremely exposed with his stare on me. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck.

He blinked hard a few times. For the first time, we looked at each other.

You could go swimming in those eyes.

A perfect shade of blue, surrounded with a green tint and specks of yellow. I couldn’t stop staring at them.

Time slowed. Everything seemed to blur and it seemed like we were the only things left walking this realm. I tried to shake myself from my own mind when I’d noticed I had been staring at his lips for at least 20 seconds.

Way to go, you just completely freaked him out, I told myself. But I wonder what it’s like to kiss this man. Was he the type his persona proved him to be? Or was he unpredictable and impossible to read?

Either way, I wanted to find out. But first I just needed his order.

I coughed, looking down.

“So that was a, um, caramel macchiato?” I asked him, leaving off where he stopped.

He looked up at mean again. “Yes, thank you...Dan,” he said, reading my name tag. I vigorously blushed. He just said my name.

I nodded in his direction, and ran away as quick as possible to make him his coffee. Not very many people came in for coffee at 2 P.M. anymore. It was a nice change of pace for this time of day, as most days I didn’t usually get to show off my coffee skills.

I capped the lid on his drink and ran it back over to him, setting it down on the table next to the chair he was sat in.

“Thank you so much. How much is it?” he asked, smiling.

“Oh, it’s-it’s on the house today,” I said quickly. Did I just scare him off paying for his coffee?

“Really? That’s so nice of you, thank you,” he said. I ducked my head for a response, scurrying away.

God, why the hell was I so awkward? 

 Wednesday, 1:51 P.M.

It had been torture the next day. All I could think about was seeing him again, but I knew I had blown it. I slapped myself thinking about how much I had thought about him. I didn’t even know him. For all I know he’s not even from around here and that is all we will know of each other for as long as we live.

But that afternoon a familiar face walked in the door. It had gotten at least 20 degrees colder in two days and by now I was wearing the long sleeve shirt they had supplied me with. He was wearing a lightened purple sweater advertising a blue wolf on it. I found it insanely adorable. He had brought his laptop with him again, another sticker I found had been added to the collection. Indulging in the free wifi, I watched him log into YouTube and lurk around channels, something I’d do a lot of in my free time. He pulled down a tab and clicked ‘upload video’, something I only dreamed of doing one day. The video that was projected onto his screen the days previous was now being added to the world of YouTube. I let him commence the process but realized it took much longer than that, maybe why he’d come here to pass time while waiting.

I walked over to him again. I felt like some kind of stalker.

My eyes lit up when he turned up to me and smiled. A wave of relief came over me when he spoke.

“You’re back! I was hoping I’d see you again,” he said.

My mouth felt like it was sealed shut. Did he actually just tell me he was happy to see me?

“R-really?” I stuttered. My cheeks flourished.

“I-um, yeah,” he suddenly replied quietly, looking down. “N-it doesn’t matter. Forget I said that.”

“No, no,” I told him, “I, um, kind of haven’t stopped thinking about you since you were last here. I felt like I scared you off paying for your coffee and acting weird.”

He didn’t quite reply to that, but just stood there twiddling his thumbs. He invited me to sit down.

Being truthful, I had stayed an extra half an hour past my shift, seeing if he would walk in again.

Graciously, I accepted his offer and sat down in a chair mirroring his, a footrest sharing space between us.

“I’m Dan,” I told him. It was only moments after I realized he already knew that.

“I know,” He said, smirking. “My name is Phil.” Phil. His name tingled to say in my mouth. It was perfect just like him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Phil,” I said, saying his name for the first time. He shook my hand. Electrons buzzed and shocked and illuminated at the touch of our skin, and it was so magical. I just wanted to keep his hand in mine forever, but it seemed a tad bit unrealistic.

Silence hung over us as I attempted to keep the conversation flowing.

“I like your stickers,” I said, pointing to a particular one stating ‘I <3 Your Mum’. He giggled.

“Yeah, that’s one of my favorites, and that one,” he said, pointing to a sticker with Sarah Michelle Gellar’s face covering it.

“Do you ever just wanna get her face tattooed onto yours?” I stated, instantly feeling like freak. This sensation didn’t last for long.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, and my face heated up. I was actually talking to him this very moment.

 “So how long’ve you been working here?” he asked me.

“Well I’ve been working in the industry for about five years ago, it being my first job. I came here about 3 ½ years ago, and I really like it. Recently I got moved from the night shift to the afternoon shift and I like it a lot more. I actually look forward coming to work now,” I told him.

“That’s great to hear! Maybe if you hadn’t we wouldn't have met.” “Funny the way things work out.” We looked at each other as the silence was less unbearable this time.

His laptop made a soft noise. His video had uploaded.

“About time,” he muttered, mostly to himself. I saw him smile a little as another had added to his collection and watched him annotate it quietly.

For a moment he disregarded everything surrounding him. It was really cute, the way he could just detach and hook himself onto something he valued. After a moment he looked up again.

“Sorry, my uh, video uploaded,” he said shyly. I think he expected me to be confused, but I just smiled and nodded knowingly. It felt quite reassuring for him I suppose, not having to explain the concept of what YouTube can really mean to someone. He probably did it quite a lot when people asked him what his job was.

 And then we just sat, not very much in silence but in our own thoughts. I shifted awkwardly in my seat, trying not to make it look like I was as nervous as I was; but he just sat there. He looked comfortable and content, and I began to think if my theory I had depicted of him had been correct. I watched him think there for a few minutes.

After exactly 2 minutes and 12 seconds, he spoke.

“Isn’t it crazy how things just sort of happen? Like here I am, a college student trying to make a living on this website and getting coffee paid for by a really cute guy when even a year ago I wouldn’t have even dreamt of this happening.”

Wait. He just called me cute. Did he just call me cute? He did. Phil just called me cute. Oh my God.

I tried to remain calm exteriorly, but inside I was manically and utterly spazzing.

“I know, I mean a year ago I was probably handing in my A-Levels and dozing off in a geography class from having stayed up all night doing the coursework. I never thought this would happen,” I replied. I had minorly revealed my age. I wanted him to think I was older and smart like him, but in reality I was just a cripplingly awkward and nervous teenager that’s just scraped by my whole life. I was waiting for things to take off. Maybe I just had to wait longer than others did.

 Before I knew it we had been sat there for over 2 hours and the new workers had already commenced preparing for the dinner rush waiting to happen. I warned him about it.

“Yeah, we should probably get out of here. Um, what are you doing this week?” he asked me. I loved how cute and quiet he went when he was trying to flirt on any level. I knew for a fact I wasn’t any better.

“Let’s see, it’s Wednesday today, I’m working here Tomorrow and Saturday,” I said, trying to correctly memorize my schedule.

“Okay, cool. I’ve got class early tomorrow morning, but this time Saturday I don’t. Maybe I’ll stop in and we can talk again. I really liked this,” he said, gaining more confidence.

“I’ll be here,” I told him, now both of us huddled together outside the shop. I was carrying something of his by the opposing side of my body. I didn’t want him to forget it.

“Oh, I forgot to pay you again for the coffee,” he told me. I held a hand out to his shoulder: “It’s no problem. Don’t forget it by the way,” I said, holding his coffee in my hand I know showed him.

“I’m so forgetful. Thank you again, you don’t have to keep buying it for me, though. I may be broke, but I’m not that broke.”

He began to slowly walk up the street, and I watched him from inside the shop see the smiley face I had written next to my phone number. Luckily he didn’t see me.

 It had been almost a year since our first encounter, and we have been together for over 7 months. By now I had let my boss in on my not-so-secret love affair with a customer.

“So we were right?” he asked me. I stared at him confused.

He turned to the co-workers behind him. “We’ve been having a poll going for how long it would take for you to catch on that this is in fact a love at first sight story, as much as you say it isn’t,” He said. 2 of the 4 huffed and handed him a few tens.

“Are you serious? No, that’s not what it is, and you’re just gonna have to give that money back,” I protested.

“Dan, I was here when he first walked in. I saw you two look at each other and boom, love at first sight sparks went off,” Gale, the best barista, told me. “You’re all delusional. That is not what this is,” I said again. This was still not a love at first sight story. It’s been that way since the day we met.

“Whatever you say, but I saw it. With my own two eyes,” she said, making a V-shape with her fingers pointing towards her pupils.

 He walked in the door. I withdrew myself from the conversation, more argument, and practically leaped overtop the counter separating us. Only 2 people were in the whole restaurant that weren’t workers, now 3.

“Phil!” I almost screamed. He ran over to me, smiling. He pushed me up against the outer side of the counter, kissing me. His hands grazed down from the sides of my face to my hips. I kept mine strung around the center of his back. I didn’t even care that my co-workers, not to mention my boss, were sat right on front of me. Usually I’m good about keeping it on the DL, but with Phil participating in PDA is no problem for me. I want everyone to know he’s mine, and he’s not going anywhere.

He drew away.

“Hi, Bear,” he said, just loud enough for me to hear and the others to barely. I curled my head to rest on his bony shoulder and he rubbed my back for a moment. I looked up to him, and my eyes lit up. I loved looking at him and every part of his beautiful structure - his glistening eyes, not tampered by any form of lighting, his rising and reddened cheekbones. It was starting to get cold again, and I had helped him drag out his jumpers two weeks ago. I snuggled into it. I heard the shutter of a camera go off from the tribe of black shirts huddled behind the counter, and they all surrounded the source and giggled. I sighed and glared at them.

Phil and I walked over to the phone and saw it was a picture of my gaze at Phil.

“If you don’t call that love at first sight, then I don’t know what is,” one said.

I would not be winning this battle.