#you can’t get the audiobook for Night Watch in the the US so I’m going to either have to buy my first physical Discworld book

[talesfromthebandgeekmafia]

The Fifth Elephant is so fucking good

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

high infidelity | one

Do you really wanna know where I was April 29th? Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? April 29th 2022 (a/n yes I know some of these dates don’t actually add up, it’s just for story purposes!) Elliots POV Nursing really wasn’t for the faint of heart, which makes me wonder why I do it. Part of me knows it’s cause I’m a pathological people pleaser and like all the pats on the back I get. On the other hand I did land myself a great position in the NICU and helping babies get healthy and go home was such a rewarding feeling. I worked twelve hour night shifts but they went by pretty fast. It was about 6:45am and I was wrapping up some charting as my phone buzzed beside me. It was my best friend Danielle. “Hey boo! Don’t forget we got tickets for Bad Omens tonight!”

Shit, I totally forgot. I sighed deeply, catching stares from some of the parents visiting their babies. I hated texting Tyler about anything because he acted like everything was fine but sadly, I had to play the part too.   “Hey I totally spaced and forgot I’m going to a concert with Danielle tonight. My dad is going come over to help with Liam’s dinner and bedtime until you get home.” “Okay :) See you when you get home!” I rolled my eyes so hard they almost got stuck. My shift was over so I handed off report to the nurses coming on shift and headed towards my car. I lifted my mask off as the fresh air hit my face, waking me up a little bit. I took my phone out of my scrub pocket and texted Danielle back. “I can’t wait…I need a girls night.” “Come to the venue at 5 so we can have some drinks and sneak front row.” Danielle worked at the venue where Bad Omens would be playing, which worked in our favour. She always got us free tickets to every event and snuck us in early to get a good spot.  I discovered Bad Omens around the same time I met Tyler. I heard Careful What You Wish For on the radio and I was hooked. During the pandemic, I found myself watching all of Noah’s twitch streams every single day. It was his way of staying connected to the fans and to fill the void of uncertainty of this virus. Something about his voice was so soothing, seriously, he could do audiobooks or podcasts if this singing thing doesn’t work out. When I got home, Tyler was on his phone typing away, probably to whatever her name was. Marissa? Miranda? I don’t know or fucking care enough to remember. He got up from the table and tried to kiss me but I turned my head and lied about having a cold sore forming. He went to make me coffee and I suddenly felt nauseous. Every time he tried to do something nice for me my blood would boil. He wasn’t doing this because he loved me, he did it to keep his image. I took the coffee from him and turned away from his sad attempt to kiss me again. “You never want any affection from me anymore, what is going on?” Oh if only you knew. “Tyler, I spend all fucking night with babies on me and being overstimulated by people. I just want an hour where I’m not touched or talked to.” “Right.” “Sorry.” I lied, rolling my eyes. I started to walk towards the stairs so I could go up and shower but he stopped me dead in my tracks. “You know tonight will be the third time you’ve gone out with your friends this month.” He shot me at me. That was the one thing I fucking loathed about him. He was really, really good at being a dick about absolutely anything. I never bothered replying to him, I just headed to my master bathroom and turned on the shower. The water felt so good as I washed off last nights shift, which was a mixture of formula and spit up. After my shower I took my coffee into my bedroom and settled on a rerun of Friends while I waited for Liam to wake up. I heard Tyler leave and I felt like I could breathe properly. 

A few hours later there was a knock on the door. Liam and I were having a nap on the couch after we had lunch. It started to rain earlier so it ruined our plans to go to the park, instead we settled on Disney movies and snuggles. His nap time was the only time I got to sleep during the day unfortunately unless he was at daycare. I slipped out of his grip to go answer the door, it was my Dad. He greeted me with a hug and we walked into the kitchen. I threw on some coffee for us as a yawn escaped my mouth. “Thanks again for staying here until Tyler gets home.” “Anything for you pumpkin.” He replies as he grabs the creamer out of the fridge for us. “Is everything okay? You seem a little down lately.” “Uh…yeah there is something.” I said before taking a deep breath. “Tyler’s been having an affair. I haven’t told him I know, I’ve been getting everything in order with my lawyer before I serve him the papers.” “When did you find out?” “A month ago.” I laughed. I don’t know why I was laughing, but somedays this situation felt comical to me. “I’ve only told Danielle because her mom is a lawyer.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I was afraid you would’ve shown up here with a shot gun.” I chuckled before taking a sip of my coffee. He half smiled but I could tell he was really upset. “Dad I’m fine. I’m going to figure this out.” “I know. Just talk to me sooner next time okay? Now that your mom is gone you and Liam are all I have.” “I miss her so much.” I said as I felt that all too familiar lump in my throat anytime I thought about my mom. We sadly lost her to Covid after she came home from a girls trip in Mexico, right around the time the pandemic hit so we didn’t know the severity of it. It hit her so fast, causing her to go into cardiac arrest and passing hours later. I had days where guilt hit me hard since she was admitted to the hospital I worked at. I wasn’t allowed to care for her cause looking after family is considered a conflict of interest. It’s been so difficult without her, but it has made my bond with my Dad a lot stronger. We talked and finished our coffees before Liam ran into the kitchen after his nap. He was only fifteen months old and could already outrun us all. I picked him up and showered him with kisses before I headed upstairs to get ready for tonight. I opened a raspberry White Claw as I put Taylor Swift’s Reputation album on shuffle, it was my favourite album by her and it was my go to while I got ready. I settled on a pair of faux leather leggings, a low-cut bodysuit to show off my sternum tattoo, and black Doc Martens. I was still learning to love my postpartum body but I had to admit, the new hourglass shape I had was starting to grow on me. 

My phone buzzed that my Uber was outside and it caused my heart to flutter. Something about the idea of finally seeing these boys in real life was making me nervous, and I had no idea why. I never put them on a pedestal or thought they were gods but it’s gonna be surreal after only seeing them behind a screen. I said goodbye to my dad and Liam before heading out the door. I was so happy it was almost May, the weather was mild enough that I didn’t need a jacket anymore. “There she is!” I smiled as I walked up to Danielle who was with our other two friends, Amy and Taylor. They complimented my look and it gave me the confidence boost I desperately needed. Danielle walked up to the bar when we got in and got us a round of double gin and tonics which was just what I needed. My nerves were getting the best of me and I really needed to loosen up a little bit. After a few more drinks we headed to the barricade and waited for the concert to start. 

“So El, are you excited to see Noah?” I furrowed my brow and looked at Taylor, “Uhh…I’m excited to see the whole band.” “Obviously, but you’re obsessed with Noah. You’ve been practically drooling over him since he was streaming.” “I have not.” At this point I was blushing so hard and I couldn’t blame it on the drinks we had. I mean, she wasn’t wrong. His long hair would make me fold every time I saw him and don’t get me started on the buns he used to do where strands of his hair would perfectly fall around his face…or when he used claw clips or… Make them Suffer came onto the stage and interrupted my thoughts that were going south. The girls and I thrashed around to their setlist and right after that A Thousand Below came on followed by Dayseeker. I cried a little bit during Without me then went back to dancing and even caught a guitar pick. I was feeling better than I have in months, I felt so carefree, happy and not thinking about what my home life was like. I wish I could feel like this every night.

The lights went dark and I froze. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears as Folio walked towards his drum set and started to play to the beat of Concrete Jungle. I had tried my best to stay off TikTok to avoid spoilers but I knew Noah came out next before the rest of the band. Before I could process what was going on, he was right in front of me. He stood there all dressed in black, his leathered hand wrapped about the mic stand and he started to sing. Holy fuck. I couldn’t take my eyes off him throughout the entire show. He was captivating as he had the crowd in the palm of his hands. His voice sounded better than I could’ve imagined, he had the voice of an angel and the screams of a demon. I don’t know if I was being delusional, but I’m sure we made eye contact a few times. He sat down at the edge of the stage and serenaded the crowd with who are you? and he was right in front of us. He was so close I could see clusters of freckles on his shoulders peeking through his tattoos. When our eyes connected again I waved at him to embarrass him and it totally worked cause he fumbled his next line. He got up and walked towards the other side of the stage, not before turning back around to look at me again…he was completely flustered. “What was that?” Danielle screamed at me as the girls just stood there in disbelief. I just shrugged at them before putting my attention back on the band. The show came to an end, not before Noah and I stole more glances at each other. I tried to gain my composure, but I couldn’t. I cannot believe I just flirted with Noah Sebastian. Also the show? Fucking best concert I’ve ever been to, so good that my throat was hoarse and I’m pretty sure my toes were bleeding. “Hey guys before we go, I just need to go to my office to grab my purse. I can’t stress this enough though, no looking for the band okay?” As much as I wanted to find Noah, we nodded our heads in agreement before heading back there. I was not about to get my best friend fired from her dream job cause I wanted to flirt with some boy in a band. I really needed to pee though after holding it for almost three hours so I went on a mission to find a bathroom. I circled for a few minutes before finding a women’s bathroom. As I walked in the toilet flushed and the stall door opened. It was Noah. He put his hands up in protest as he flushed pink, “I promise I’m not a woman.” I forced an awkward laugh as I looked him up and down. He already looked like he showered and changed. The scent of his cologne lingered over to me and I could feel my face burning. He walked over to the sink to wash his hands so I took the opportunity to admire his tall stature. He was wearing black skinny jeans with a grey Chief hoodie and white Nikes. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tattoos were exposed. My face was getting hotter the longer I watched him…I felt like a victorian man seeing a women’s ankles for the first time.

Also…Chief? One of my favourite bands? What are doing to me Noah? “Nice hoodie.” Noah smiled at the ground before looking back up to me. His eyes were so dark you could hardly see his pupils. They were the kind of eyes you could get lost in…and I definitely was. “Sorry I’ll give you some privacy.” He said gesturing towards the bathroom stall. I smiled at him as he walked past me towards the door. Noah stopped as he opened the door to turn back to me, “oh by the way, thanks for making me fuck up tonight.” “I did no such thing!” I audibly gasped. Noah shut the door and walked back over to me, “you definitely did.” “I was testing a theory that you were eye fucking me through the whole show.” I said as I crossed my arms, trying to make myself look taller but I was failing miserably. “Well, how was my eye fucking?” He replied with a deeper tone to his voice. He crossed his arms as well and got closer to me, close enough that he towered over my 5 foot frame with no problem. I was completely lost for words on account that my bladder was about to burst. “I have to pee.” “Ok fine, I’ll go.” He said, looking down at me as he grinned like a devil, “this isn’t over.”

[thatdassie]

Too lazy to add watermarks to every screenshot. If I see uncredited reposts I’m gonna waggle a disapproving finger at u.

context: I am going to feed this hungry fandom, single-handedly with every Murderbot doodle I have ever made.

also I will vomit words. Under the cut me screaming and crying:

longer context:

this is the product of a few nights spent listening to Murderbot audiobooks. One of the reasons I read so few actual sci-fi books is because when I have to use a ton of brainpower to remember past events and arcs and characters and worldbuilding and connections I get exhausted and it’s not fun. Scifi has a lottt of that. But I really reallllly liked Murderbot so i wanted to put in the effort to understand it. I would draw little diagrams and maps and doodles on a giant canvas while the guy was reading and it helped me to understand what was happening better.

let me tell u there is nothing more AWFUL than WANTING to invest yourself in something you like but ur brain is like NO!! TOO MUCH WORK!!! IF I HAVE TO THINK ABOUT THINGS REALLY HARD AND EXPEND ENERGY I WILL FUCKING DIE!! I HAVE TO ENJOY EVERY SECOND OF EVERYTHING and then u feel bad because u don’t feel like a real fan or whatever that means.

sometimes the stars align and I do manage to finish a series like Murderbot!! It helps that it’s novellas mostly and doesn’t have a lot of spin-offs. (Star trek, I’m gonna kill you.) Man I need to watch more tv shows though. Words can’t describe how much Murderbot is like me frrrrr. Might be projecting onto it a tad bit

I sure do love tiny fandoms that are already finished so I can bless people with large slabs of fandom meat that they never saw coming 😍

[callsign-joyride]

Mad World Prologue | Rhett Abbott

Despite the mood board suggesting otherwise, my fics are POC and size inclusive.

Summary: "Apocalypse" wasn't on anyone's yearly bingo card. Nationwide evacuations of major cities forced you and your best friend out of central Indiana, and you were told to get to Wabang. You made it, but not without having to overcome obstacles. Staying with the Abbotts proved to be the only option, but Rhett Abbott and all of his problems were the last things you expected to run into, much less spend time with.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x fem!reader

Content warnings: None for this chapter. For the fic - this is a zombie apocalypse AU. There will be dark themes and descriptions. Gore, violence, death, angst, enemies-to-lovers, eventual smut.

Word count: 1.5k

Taglist | Playlist | Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.” - Frankenstein, Mary W. Shelley

It was supposed to be a normal night. Everyone had been made well aware of a virus that was going around, but you hadn’t really been worried about it. You were curled up on the couch with a bowl of snacks when things really started to go downhill. The whirring of a helicopter could be heard, but that was a fairly common thing in the area where you lived. Almost as soon as you pulled up Netflix to find a movie to watch, the power went out. Sirens started blaring, but they didn’t sound like anything you had heard before. Your roommate, Noah, rushed into the living room and looked scared.

“We gotta go now. They’re ordering evacuations out of all major cities.” 

“I’m so confused. Who’s ‘they’? Things can’t be that bad. I went to Target earlier and no one seemed like they were in a panic.”

“They’re bad enough for the government to be ordering evacuations. Get your stuff. We’re taking back roads and going to my dad’s house. I don’t know if we’ll be allowed to come back.”

You got up and rushed to your room. While you were trying to shove all of your valuable belongings into a suitcase and duffle bag, there was a loud knock on the door. Noah had been talking to someone, but you couldn’t really hear anything. 

“Okay, I think I have everything. Are we taking my-,”

Your heart sank and you almost passed out as you looked up and saw a man in a military uniform and a gas mask. Behind him, another soldier was spray painting a red X over the apartment door across the hall.

“Are we going to be allowed to come back?” You asked.

“Are there any pets in the apartment that we should be aware of?” The man, whose name patch had the last name Jones stitched into it, asked.

“No. You really can’t tell us anything?” Noah asked. The short answer was no, he couldn’t tell you anything. Once both of you had walked out of the apartment, Jones closed the door and spray-painted the same X over it. 

“We’re taking your Jeep,” he said. Getting out of the parking lot was a nightmare. Things got scary really fast, as a few people tried to get in the car while it was moving. It didn’t help that Noah told you not to stop for anyone and to keep the doors locked. All of the radio stations were static, and panic started to set in more when you told Noah to try and call someone. He didn’t have any bars. You didn’t have any, either. It made your phones practically useless except for the downloaded songs and audiobooks that you had. It was supposed to be an hour-long drive to Rick’s house, but because he told you to take back roads only, it was really two hours. You were both too scared to speak to each other except for directions. Everything was quiet as you pulled into the driveway, but it lit up. 

“That’s new,” you said.

“What? The motion censored lights? Yeah, he had them in the garage for a while but he made me set them up a few months ago. You know his eyes are getting worse. Well, his everything is getting worse but that’s what happens when you get old I guess.”

You both got out of the car and grabbed a bag before walking up the porch steps and going inside.

“I’m glad that you two made it here safe. How bad were things in the city?” He asked.

“Um, we don’t really know. Getting out of the apartment complex was a nightmare and all of the roads were pretty backed up. I had to drive through a few alleyways to even get to the backroads but I don’t think anyone was paying attention enough to care,” you explained.

“Yeah, well, all cell towers are completely down. I’d say we’ve got a week or two here before the biters start to make it this far out.”

“I’m sorry. Biters? What the hell is… This sounds like some apocalypse shit and I don’t like it,” Noah said.

“Yeah, a buddy of mine saw a few over in Ohio last week when he was visiting his kids. I’m surprised it took them this long to shut things down.”

“Okay, so what are we supposed to do? It looks like this is only gonna get worse,” you said.

“I wish I knew. I’ve never seen one in person. I think you just gotta go for the head if you see one.”

You sighed. Your life had changed in a matter of hours, as did everyone else’s, but things got very scary very fast. No one seemed to know anything about what was going on, either. There were snacks on the table, there always were. Noah and his dad weren’t really surprised when you got up and grabbed a few snacks before going upstairs for the night.

The week and a half of “peace” was a good one. You and Noah had to do a food run, and that went okay. The truly worrisome part of all of it was that you saw a biter, and one of you had to kill it. You had moved all of the beds downstairs to block off the back door and you started to board up the windows. Things always got worse at night, mostly because the temperature cooled down. 

“First thing in the morning, I want the two of you gone. I know a guy in Wyoming from my bull-riding days. Royal Abbott. He’s in Wabang, Wyoming. Head north towards Chicago and go west from there. This should be your route,” he said as he grabbed a map and highlighted it.

“What about you? You’re not coming with us?” You asked.

“I’m old and my health is going to shit. I’m only gonna slow you down and it’ll probably take longer than a normal road trip because of how things are. I haven’t opened that tent that you got me for Christmas a few years ago so take that. If you’re driving at night, turn your headlights off. If you gotta camp, be very careful about the fires. Chances are high that there are other people trying to find a safe zone and you can’t trust anyone. I mean that. You can go off-road in your Jeep, right?”

You nodded your head.

“Good. Noah, you know how to siphon gas and hotwire a car. Show her how to do it. There’s hunting equipment in the basement. You two take whatever you want.”

The three of you went downstairs and Rick flipped the light on. You stood in front of the glass cabinets and spent a long time thinking about what you were going to pick. Whatever it was, it had to last through the trip to Wyoming and probably then some. It couldn’t be something too loud, or it would draw biters to you. You ended up picking a crossbow.

“Do you know how to use that?” Rick asked.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Nope. Let me teach you. I’ve got a ton of arrows.”

It was noon. There was plenty of time to learn. So, all three of you went upstairs and outside. You had it pretty much mastered in less than an hour.

“I guess us obsessively watching The Hunger Games movies really paid off, didn’t it?” Noah asked.

“Shut up,” you said.

“Hey, there’s a biter way down there. You think you could shoot it from here?” Rick asked. He knew that if he challenged you, you would probably go through with it. They got quiet as you walked down the yard a little bit to get ready to take the shot. You took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. Noah started to clap and Rick started to laugh.

“Congratulations,” he said, “you just killed your first biter with a crossbow. Long range, too. I’m very impressed. It took me years to be able to pull off a shot like that when I was hunting.”

After everyone ate dinner, Rick went upstairs. You went over to your bed to get the map and discuss plans with Noah when he finally came back. He was holding a crate full of cassette tapes and three fresh packs of batteries. 

“Alright, I know you like audiobooks. Your phone’s practically useless at this point and I don’t think you’d really want to listen to Lord of the Rings on repeat. I’ve got a bunch of music tapes in here, too. Queen, Wham!, Def Leppard, all the good stuff. Most of those were Sharon’s, actually.”

“You’re gonna make me take it, aren’t you?” You asked. Rick chuckled and nodded his head. 

Morning rolled around and you were up before the sun. Noah was up soon after you, and you started to get things ready to go. The crossbow sat on the center console for easy access and all of the arrows were on the passenger side. Noah still had room for his feet and you had almost a full tank. There were energy drinks in the back, along with a variety of canned foods.

“Bye, dad. You’re pretty awesome. I love you,” Noah said. 

Both of you left after that.

Taglist:

@littlebadariell @cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty @littlemisstopgun @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @justanothermagicalsara @caitsymichelle13 @smoothdogsgirl @adoringsebstan @cherrycola27 @alexxavicry @mrsjaderogers @mak-32 @thefandomimagines @tallrock35 @caatheeriinee07 @bradshawseresinbabe @rosesvioletshardy @anotherr-fine-mess

[cheese-water]

no no you don’t understand. I can’t comprehend why anyone would prefer old caves to 1.18 caves. I guess for some “large” multiplayer servers I get why you’d used the old caves but for everything else? I just can’t believe that.

There’s so much to do now! I’ve always enjoyed ravines and was beyond excited whenever the illustrious double ravine appeared. But now? If I don’t have to make a pinpoint accurate jump into a stream of water right next to a pool of lava just to enter, I’m better off walking another 50 blocks to find one. And don’t even get me started on the generation. I don’t know how they did it but Mojang made getting lost fun. I’m not talking about going through the same looking tunnel over and over just to find your furnace, no no no. I’m talking about heading down one direction but constantly getting sidetracked by caverns full of materials that seem to go on indefinitely. But somehow, when you do reach the “end” of a path, you pop back out to the generously torched area you were in before. Everything is connected and now you don’t even have to backtrack and I love it so much.

But the biggest thing to me in my opinion is 1.18 caves allow so many different ways to play. For example, my dad is very good at Minecraft. He’s played for over ten years with a variety of data packs and mods and whatever you can think of. He completely agrees with me, that the vanilla caves recived a massive upgrade and changed for the better. He finds them relaxing since he doesn’t have to worry about not finding whatever he needs, because the caves are so damn big, while he listens to audiobooks.

I however, am very bad at the game. Not just Minecraft, most WASD games since I’m not used to the controls or mouse sensitivity or reaction timing or whatever have you. But, I still enjoy Minecraft and hanging out with my dad so every once in a while, I’ll play on a server, go caving, and die. Over the past week though, I’ve played every night (go play vault hunters right now), slowly getting better, still dying, but getting better. Late last night, I’d just watched a valorant tourney (moist moguls ftw), and it was still on my mind as I was gearing up to get some more iron. And I thought to myself “I did need more practice fighting enemies…”

It was no longer a “simple mining trip.” It was a break in. I was peaking corners left and right, shooting skeletons down as if they were security guards in my way. Leapt over caverns and crevices with the confidence of someone who preformed four block jumps since they were a toddler. My heart was racing. My three stacks of torches ran out quickly but I pressed on still. Just because I was out of my depth, tired to the bone, didn’t make the monster hit any less harder or lay down and die themselves. And that meant there was more money to be made.

Two hours later, and I had over seven stacks of iron and the most fun experience I’d had playing a game solo in my entire life.

[therandomavenger]

What is Time?

I’ve been reading Jaclyn Paul’s Order from Chaos and it’s all about how you, as an adhd person, can organize your time and your living space. And it made me think about how I was structuring my days, and if I was doing that in the most efficient way.

I don’t really have much trouble getting things done lately. I make a schedule, and I pretty much stick to it. But it’s only been in recent months that I’ve zeroed in on what that structure looks like for me and why.

Research has shown that most people generally have about 6 hours of productivity in them during the day. For early birds, that can be from 6 am to noon, and then in the afternoon they need a little pick-me-up. I have never been good in the mornings, no matter how much I have tried to be. I used to think that I was a night owl, and night owls tend to be productive in the evening and nighttime, so like 6pm to midnight. And while I used to stay up that late a lot, I found that productivity was nearly impossible, because my Adderall wears off around 7pm and my brain turns to mush. I believe this is the technical term for it.

What I’ve discovered by a great deal of experimentation is that I am most productive from about 11am to 5pm every day. That puts me smack dab in the middle of the afternoon. I’ve never heard of there being ‘afternoon people,’ but I can’t be alone in this. My brain does not wake up until at least 10:30, no matter what time I actually get out of bed. And after 5pm or so, I can do mindless chores or watch TV or whatever, but if you want me to think deep thoughts about something, you’d better come back the next day. If I play with the timing of my Adderall dose, I can extend this to about 8 pm, but that’s a risky prospect. If something is really engaging, I can hang with it (which is how I deal with my D&D game, which can go as late as 10pm, but sometimes it is a struggle), but really, I shouldn’t be expecting myself to do anything major in the mornings or the evenings.

And you know what? There’s nothing wrong with that. We all have preferences for how we use and conserve our energy. If left to our own devices, we all have times of the day that work better for us. There should be no judgment for people who can’t function like others, even though our society seems to make not being an early riser a moral failing.

So, here’s how I need to structure my day.

When I first get up, I need two things: movement and sunshine. So, I need to get up early enough to take a walk outside to start the day. This really helps me ease into a productive state. On my walk I listen to audiobooks or podcasts, and I start thinking about what I’m going to write later, so I am not starting cold. I also like to schedule medical appointments early, so they are not taking up any of my productive hours. Would I sleep until noon every day if I had a chance? Absolutely! But I’ve learned that getting all of this stuff out of the way before expecting myself to do any productive work is best, so I’ve been trying to leave the house around 8am every day. This is especially important in the summer, because if I let it get too late, it will be too hot to take a walk outside. If I needed to, I could walk on my treadmill, but that is a last resort. I need to be outside, if at all possible. In the winter I have more leeway when it comes to time and have invested in a good rain slicker so I can take walks in the rain.

Then around 11am or noon, I start my hours of productive work. For me, this is when I get my writing done. I write for 99 minutes or until I’ve produced at least 2500 words, whichever comes first. (it’s 99 minutes because that’s the longest timer I can set on my Fitbit. It also dovetails nicely with my natural attention span). Once my drafting is done, I practice the guitar for 30 minutes, to give my brain a break, before spending an hour editing, if I’m in that stage with a project. This usually means I’m done with work around 3 or 4pm and can work on household chores or do something else that needs my focus.

My boyfriend usually cooks dinner after this, and I save enough energy to do the clean-up and dishes. The evenings we chill and watch TV or go shopping or whatever. And these days, I try to get to bed before 11pm. No more staying up doomscrolling until 4am!

This is the schedule that works best for me. It’s important to figure out what that looks like for you, so you can try to play to your strengths. I am fortunate that I don’t have a regular day job except when I work at the library 1-2 days a week (that shift is usually 11-2, sometimes 2-5).

It’s important to note that there’s no moral weight to any of this. Morning people are not superior to afternoon people or night owls. And sometimes, you can’t choose your schedule, especially if you have a day job and/or children at home who have schedules you might have to work around.

I also find that I need a lot of downtime in the evenings. Sometimes this is catching up with TV shows. Sometimes it is reading. But whatever it is, I need some time dedicated to not performing any productivity. It’s ok if I am productive, but it must be an accident.

Anyway, that’s what works for me. Your mileage may vary, of course. I think it’s interesting to talk about this stuff and consider how we’re all wired slightly differently. So, if it’s at all possible, figure out what your ideal schedule is and lean into it. If you have a day job that needs you awake and functioning at 7am, but you’re naturally a night owl, you might want to think about switching to something that is a more natural fit. I know that sounds like I think it’s easy. I know it’s not. I’ve found however, that I’ve been much more successful when I play to my strengths.       

[banannabethchase]

Set the World Alight: Chapter 15 - also on AO3

~

Matt finally gets the house to herself and invites Mox over. Meanwhile, Nick and Adam go on a college tour.

~

Note about the chapter [including rather major chapter spoilers]: Two teenagers over 18 who love each other deeply have a YA fade-to-black sex scene. In case anybody's like. Weird about that.

~

Sunday, March 16th

Matt

She wakes up to her phone ringing, and mindlessly fumbles for it. “Hello?” she mumbles into the phone.

“Wake up,” Nick says. “Dad got donuts.”

Matt sits up so fast her head spins. “Donuts? I’ll be right down.”

She pulls on a pair of slippers and one of Mox’s hoodies from his dad’s garage and half tumbles down the stairs into the kitchen.

“Donuts?” she says by way of greeting.

“Oh, hey there, Matty girl,” her mom says. Matt takes her in – she looks nice, almost fancy.

“Why are you already dressed?” She peeks around the corner to see her dad face first in a closet. She giggles a little. “Are you two going somewhere?”

“Museum district is having a special,” she smiles, “and your dad has that pass, so we’re going to go watch movies in the Omnitheater all day.”

“Have fun,” Matt says. She tries to smile like a normal person, but she’s just gotten the best idea. “Nick, you want to do anything today?”

He shakes his head, shoving a donut in his mouth. “College tour with Adam,” he mumbles through the mouthful. “Torrance is having a weekend welcome thing and Mrs. Page asked me if I wanted to tag along.”

Matt does everything she can not to explode. “Oh, okay,” she says. “You guys all have fun! I’m hanging out here today.”

Her mom eyes her for a moment, and Matt does everything she can not to give away what her idea is. If she plays this right, she gets the entire house to herself. All morning, all afternoon.

With Mox.

“Well,” says her mom with a knowing smile, “don’t do anything too reckless. And, if you do, use a condom.”

Nick chokes on his donut and has to be smacked on the back for two straight minutes to get himself back together.

~

Nick

“Hi, Mrs. Page,” Nick says, sliding into the back seat next to Adam. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“I invited you,” Adam says, pouting.

“Please,” Mrs. Page laughs. “You know Nick is my favorite of all your friends. I’m just glad he was willing to wake up so early on a Sunday!”

Nick yawns before he can answer. “We were up early for Matt’s cheer competition yesterday, so it’s kind of happening without my control at this point.”

“Well,” Mrs. Page says, pulling out of Nick and Matt’s driveway, “we can keep the volume to a minimum so the two of you can take a nap on the way there and back, hmm?” She smiles at them through the rear view mirror. “Just like when you two were little.”

Nick glances over to Adam and shares a smile. “Only now someone won’t cry because we can’t stop to pet the cows.”

“They were adorable cows and they deserved kisses,” Adam says, pouting even harder. But there’s a sparkle in his eyes that makes Nick’s heart skip a beat. Or three. Nick bumps Adam’s knee with his, lingering just a tiny bit too long.

“All cows are adorable,” Nick says. “Plus, you were, like, twelve.”

“Thirteen,” Mrs. Page corrects.

“Thanks for that, Mom,” Adam grumbles.

Mrs. Page puts on some audiobook, and Nick decides it’s not a big deal if his and Adam’s hand bump as they fall asleep.

~

Matt

Hey you want to come over today? she texts to Mox, nearly vibrating with excitement. It’s been five minutes since everybody left but she couldn’t wait any longer. She bounces on her toes with anticipation.

always but I got to work until 2ish

Matt deflates a little, because she’d been hoping Mox could come over immediately, but she’s still excited. Yay! Text when you’re on your way.

of course <3

<3

Matt cranks up her music and takes her time showering. The night before all she could make herself do was wash out the hair gel before she stumbled into bed. But today, she’s got a little more energy. And she has an plan.

She sings poorly to her favorite playlists, and nobody knocks on the door to ask her to stop or use the bathroom. She takes care to make sure her hair looks pretty but manageable, and she picks an outfit she thinks is cute, but not like she’s trying too hard.

She cleans her bedroom and bathroom so they look right. And then she double checks that her top bedside table drawer has what she needs in it.

“Good,” she says, fighting her smile.

It’s only eleven when everything’s done, and then she’s sitting on her bed, bored.

When her phone rings, she answers so quickly it’s a little excessive. “Hi, Mox.”

“Hi,” he says. “How’re you?”

“I’m good.” Matt sits down on her bed. “How about you?”

“Not too bad,” Mox says. Matt tries to keep herself from running around the room spinning and decides, instead, to roll over on the bed. “So, what are you doing today?”

Matt kicks her feet up, looking out the dormer window. “Oh, nothing,” she says. “Just hanging out with my boyfriend.”

“He sounds like a big fuckin’ idiot,” Mox says. Matt thinks she can hear the smile in his voice. She wants to wrap herself in it like a blanket. “Real tool of a guy, if he’s not there already.”

Matt glances around her room. It’s neat and tidy. Nothing out that shouldn’t be. Cozy blanket. Clean sheets. She’s jittery with eager anticipation. “He’s welcome to come over whenever he wants, but he’s at work,” she says, trying to keep it light. “And don’t call him an idiot. I happen to love him.”

“Oh?” Mox says. “Yeah? What would you do if he was already in your driveway?”

Matt’s excitement spikes through her entire body. “You said not until after two!” She glances out the window and, sure enough, there is Mox’s mom’s car pulling into the parking space usually meant for her Dad. They have the whole house to themselves, and Mox might not even know it yet.  

She flies down the stairs, checking to make sure her outfit is right like she wants it, before pulling open the door. She runs into Mox’s arms, and he spins her.

“I thought you had to help your dad at the shop!” she says as Mox sets her down.

He shrugs. “Told him it was my girlfriend’s birthday, and he let me leave early.” He leans down and kisses her forehead. “So I got to come see you sooner.”

Matt thinks she may vibrate out of her skin and into the stratosphere if she doesn’t say anything. “Come upstairs,” she says, grabbing Mox’s hand.

He goes with her easy, not letting her hand go the entire way. When they reach her room, Matt flops down on the bed and grins up at Mox. “Come on, sit!”

He blushes a little as he settles down slowly next to her, and she might jump him right here if he keeps being so sweet. “You seem excited,” he says, resting his hand on hers.

She nods. “I am.” She leans over to take the piece of paper her father had brought in with the mail the night before off her bedside table. “I got into State.”

Mox’s eyes widen, and he smiles so huge she feels like she’s bathing in sunshine. “I knew it!” he says, jumping to his feet. “Oh, baby, good job! I knew you’d do it!” He reaches out and pulls her by the arms to hug her. “And I’m not going to be that asshole who tries to push you to go to the same school I’m going to, because that would be awful.” He pauses. “But, holy shit, that would be so fuckin’ cool.”

Matt giggles as she hugs Mox back, then pulls away so she can see his face. “They gave me an awesome scholarship for my cheer work and my grades, and when I went for that tour last month one of the admissions counselors told me he’d seen my work and was impressed, so.” She shrugs. “I felt like I had it in the bag. But I wasn’t sure.”

“Everybody should be impressed with you.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re amazing.”

Matt grins up at Mox. “Thanks. You are, too.” Matt swallows, trying to get up the courage. “And, um. I was thinking. Since it’s my birthday weekend and all.” She takes deep breath. “I, um. I was thinking. Well, I bought a new bra, and new underpants, and I was thinking maybe you could see them.” She pauses.

“Sure!” Mox says. “I mean, I’m not, like, very good at fashion or anything, but I’ll hype you up and everything.”

Matt sighs. “No, I – I want you to take my clothes off, not critique them.” Mox tilts his head to the side. Matt thinks if she looked hard enough she could see his ears perk up. “Specifically, if you wanted to, I was thinking we could have sex.”

He nods slowly, more controlled than Matt has ever seen Mox. It’s almost endearing, with the way he’s trying to act like he’s being normal. She can read him pretty well, though. “You sure?” he asks. His fingertips are stroking the skin on her arms, and she’s pretty sure she’s about to combust. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Pressured?” Matt giggles. “Mox, I asked you.”

“I know!” he says. “But, like, I know what the issue was with Cody, and I don’t want you worried I’m expecting something from you.”

“I’m not,” she says. She slides her hand to his belt, then stops, waiting for Mox to respond. He looks at her softly. And then she can’t stop talking. “I want to, Mox. I love you. I – I love you so much, and I want…” She trails off and looks up at him. “Mox, I want you.”

Mox makes an unexpected, weird little sound in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he almost whispers. “Yes, Matt, I want to. I – okay, but, like, what? And how?” He exhales. “Never mind. You make all the decisions. I’m just here for your enjoyment.”

“You’re so weird,” she says, and she leans over to kiss him. She pulls him backward onto the bed. She falls down, flat on her back, and the thrill of Mox’s weight on top of her makes her lightheaded.

Mox’s shirt is gone, and then hers, and then she can feel Mox’s heartbeat against her chest.

“I want to check again,” Mox says, breathing heavily. “You – we’re going to have sex. And you want to. Like, you really want to.”

“Yes.” Matt tries to say it like a promise. She reaches up and cups Mox’s cheek. “I really, really want to. Because I love you.”

“I love you, too, Matty,” Mox says, kissing her forehead again. “So fuckin’ much.”

~

Curled up in Mox’s arms, Matt thinks she’s going to reset her timeline and make this her first time. Jamie once told her that, for girls, it should only count if you come. And that makes today her first time if she adds Cody’s stupid definition.

“You awake?” Mox whispers. His fingertips through her hair make her feel warm and cozy.

Matt nods, rolling over. “Not sleepy,” she mumbles. “Just enjoying it.”

“I get that,” Mox says. “Holding on to the moment.” He sighs, and Matt can feel his chest move. He pulls the blankets up around the two of them. “And you, of course.”

“And me?” Matt asks, shifting to be able to see Mox’s face.

“Holding onto you,” he says with a smile. He pulls her in tighter. “That’s called a zeugma.”

“Ooh, you’ve been listening to my weird English class rants,” Matt giggles. “How romantic of you.”

“I think what we did earlier was more romantic, but whatever.” He kisses Matt’s forehead again, and Matt presses her face into his chest.

“Okay, very true,” she mumbles against his skin. “So, I have a question.”

“Go for it.”

She shuffles again so she can look Mox in the eye. “We might be going to different schools next year.”

Mox nods. “That might happen, I guess.” He’s quiet. It’s all Matt can do not to poke and prod for more answers. “Are you worried?”

“No,” Matt says, and she thinks it’s the truth. “I figured we should probably talk it out, right?”

Mox nods and adjusts. “Well,” he says slowly, “I think, no matter what, we try, right? Everyone says long distance is a joke, but we can’t know until we’re the ones giving it a go.” He reaches out and, with the softest touch Matt’s ever known, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Plus, I think we’re different than everyone else.”

All Matt can do is nod and get lost in Mox’s blue eyes. “So it’s settled then,” she finally says, “if we end up at different schools, we try long distance. And, um,” she breaks eye contact, gaze lingering at the necklace dangling from Mox’s neck. “If we end up at the same school?”

“Then we stay together,” Mox says automatically. “Um. That is, if that’s what you want.”

Matt nods, a little too hard. “I do. Want that, I mean.” She smiles at him. “I don’t want to break up.”

“Me either.”

Matt leans in and kisses Mox, and they lose the afternoon.

~

Nick

“Oh, sweet!” Adam says, darting over to the Ag barn. Nick exchanges a look with Mrs. Page, who smiles down at him. “Look at this space!”

“He really loves cows,” Nick says, a little incredulous. “Has he always been this way?”

“You tell me, Nick,” Mrs. Page says. That smile hasn’t gone away, but it’s turned a little more knowing. “You’ve known him almost as long as I have.”

Nick feels like blushing at that. He doesn’t know why. “When he was a baby, though?”

“Oh, definitely,” Mrs. Page says. “We were never able to have cows or horses – not quite enough room on our farm, of course – so, naturally, he became obsessed with cows.” Her eyes land on where Adam is talking beyond animatedly with the person who brought out the cow, petting the cow reverently. “Always felt bad we couldn’t give him the one animal he loves the most, but…”

“Well, it motivates him to find every cow and yell cow,” Nick says. Adam beams as the cow licks his face. “See? Look how happy he is.”

Mrs. Page nods. “He’s always been such a farm boy.” She turns to Nick. “You may have to get used to that.”

Nick can’t match her gaze, feeling his blush grow. “Maybe,” he admits quietly. “I could, though. Get used to it.”

Mrs. Page steps next to him, an arm around his shoulder. “We are so lucky to have you and your sister in our lives,” she says. “No matter what that looks like.”

Nick feels too seen, but he also feels safe.

“Nicky!” Adam yells. “Come over here – this cow’s name is Matilda! Like actually Matilda! We gotta get a picture for Matt!”

Nick laughs as he runs over to Adam, Mrs. Page close behind them. She takes the photo, and, if Nick’s a little closer than usual as he usually stands, that’s between him and Adam.

[autumn-oceanopromises]

(930) no contact

i’m not gonna walk it back no more, i have no father. i said it in a moment of anger but i mean it and I will double down, and i will continue on in this way.

i would prefer to have no relationship with my father than a toxic one where i’m just waiting for the next judgment which will definitely come. where i am either walking on eggshells or shit gets thrown out of left field he says, “do you understand that you are condescending and arrogant” and i say “do you know where I get it from?” this man introduced mansplaining to me long before the word became well-known.

he has told me, day in and day out, from when i was thirteen no, since when I was six that i am an absolute disappointment to him that i will not listen to a word he has to say that i am fat that i am helpless on my own that i need to forgive and turn the other cheek that i will come to bad ends that he has a useless son that he has no son that he is disappointed in me that if I live in his house, if I use his money, then I have to do everything that he says.

he has said these things for more than twenty years. my mother says “he says this in anger” “he doesn’t mean it” and he has, indeed, apologised... many times and then said them again the moment i have displeased him the words never change.

but i don’t forget how can i, when it comes up in everything that i do wrong? his is the voice that echoes in my head when i am lowest, that reinforces my uselessness and my absolute distrust and disrespect in myself

i have had enough. i have had enough. i will not have a relationship with this man.

which is a goddamn shame because i know service is how he shows love, service and time spent and i do love listening to his stories i am proud to know that he used to take breakfasts with the first japanese astronaut, mamoru mohri, when they were both at university at the height of the vietnam war protests i love this story, i love these glimpses back into a muggy past where he worked in the government, his stories about his coworkers the night my parents met; the stories of what he used to play, growing up his endurance and persistence in going to courses that his work paid for the descriptions of the shop growing up. i am proud to be from his family, to know his siblings and their children. i am proud to have his last name. i do not want a relationship with this bully.

i will treasure these memories, these happy memories, until and when he passes but i will not stay in this relationship when he tramples over all my boundaries and tells me to sit down and shut up. i will not sit down. i will not shut up. i will not give in to feed his ego.

i do not watch films, i do not watch tv, i rarely watch youtube. i am, despite being an audio creator, incapable of concentrating on audiobooks. given a choice, i prefer not to sit in the same place and have people talk at me for hours.

he wants an independent son, a son who does things on his own he wants someone who can’t say no to him feeding his ego onto and feeling better about himself. he gets to pick one approach. and he gets to live with the consequences.

i appreciate all the shit he’s doing for me, but i would have muddled on just fine without it. he does not get to use what he does as fuel for why he can push his viewpoints and expect me to echo them back to him like a good little doll.

i appreciate the diy stuff he’s taught me, i really enjoyed the time we spent together, doing stuff together. but the good of two weeks does not outweigh the bad of a lifetime and he does not get to make escalated threats and walk them back with no consequences. i am so fucking hurt because I want a relationship with my father. but he’s decided that it’s his way or the highway and so I choose the highway: and of course he gets louder and tries his traditional bullying tactics to get me back on his way. i won’t play those games. i’m done with them. i just... I want to do things with him, projects in the yard; talk and share stories where i know that he’s coming from a place of mutual respect i give him respect when he gives me respect when he comes from a place of disrespect i will match it right back at him i don’t know... i just wanna build shit, I guess. i’d go drinking with him but he’s a teetotaller. i’d go bowling with him but he never wants to spend any money. and half the time i spend time with him he’s just judging me on what i’m doing wrong. his most pleasurable activity is getting a deal for cheap, two for one. I don’t need his fucking mansplaining. i’d be happy to - i don’t know - discuss a fucking book with him. all this... if he’d just gone like... if he’d just fucking said it better instead of answering a question I didn’t fucking ask and telling me that of course I should have asked this question, after all he went to so much trouble looking up the answer

he goes on and on about me dealing with consequences. here’s consequences: he gets to not have a relationship with his son. i wish i had a father. i have no father.

[messedupfan]

When I Look At You | Chapter 1

Summary: Y/n Y/l/n is on a journey of rediscovering what makes life so great. It all starts when a certain woman and her sister move in across the street.

No specific gender for reader

A/N: Well, I kind of just started typing one day and this came out of it. I hope y'all enjoy! Also this is my 200th post!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up earlier than usual because you were trying to get into a new and healthier routine. Late nights and sleeping during the day simply wasn't going to cut it anymore. However, deciding to start this new routine with a morning jog with only an hour of sleep probably wasn't the best start. At least it was a start, is what you tell yourself as you tighten the laces on your worn out sneakers. 

You plug your earbuds into your cell phone and pick the playlist you spent most of the night organizing to motivate you to exercise. The playlist was much longer than you intended to jog for, but it did help to wake you up. You opened the front door and instead of being greeted by the glaring sun you're used to, it's a dark neighborhood. A few of the residents have their front lights on but it didn't provide much light. As you think about turning around and crashing on the couch, celebrating the effort of simply opening the door, you shake your head to clear it. You wanted to go on the run more than you wanted to sleep on your couch. 

You grab your keys and lock the door behind you before you walk down to the sidewalk and start your jog. That's all it was, a simple jog. No more, and you allowed yourself moments of less. When you return home, breathless and sweaty, the sun is rising. You sit on your front steps to catch your breath and admire the various colors the sun painted the sky with before you headed inside to shower. 

The first thing you do once you get out is order an arm phone holder online. You thought you would be fine just holding it in your hand but you hated it the entire jog. You connected your phone to one of your portable speakers to listen to an audiobook while you made yourself breakfast. It wasn't anything special, scrambled eggs with ketchup and a glass of orange juice, but you remind yourself that it's just a start. 

You check the time on your watch and quickly move to your computer. You join the online meeting with your writing team and they are all surprised to see you clean and alert. “I’m trying something new,” you say sheepishly. They congratulate you and you settle them down to get the meeting started. The deadline for your next book was closing in and you hardly had anything together. Your editor was trying to be patient with you but your agent had a different and much harsher approach to get you focused. “I know, I know,” you sigh into your hands as you stretch the skin on your face down. “It’s just hard to write a continuation of this sappy love story when I'm not the same person that wrote this crap. I was young and in love back when I started this series. I didn't think my life would be where it is today. I just… I can't keep writing this sappy fantasy anymore,” you explain.

“Well the publishing company purchased three more of these written by you and there’s a contract. There's no way out of it, Y/n!” Your manager scolds. “They made sure of it. I had your lawyer look over it plenty of times. You’re writing again and that’s final.”

“Here's an idea,” your assistant chimes in. “You write based on how you're feeling, right? So why not continue to put the characters through what you're feeling now?”

“That's actually not a bad idea,” Mike, the editor, agrees. 

You shake your head, “I don't know guys, I've always been able to keep my characters happy. I can't just jump from a happy ending to a sad beginning. That won't make any sense to my readers.”

“Why not? Isn't that what happened to you?” Natalie, your assistant, presses. “There can’t be an argument of whether or not it’s realistic because things can go wrong fast and they did.” You tell her to watch it but she doesn't let it go. “You've always said that there's a real element to your stories. There's a truth. There's you in it. Well, your life basically blew up out of the blue. Why can't the characters?”

“Because it's not fair to them,” you say with a frown as you pick at the dirt under your fingernails. “Besides, that would be a completely different concept from the one I pitched,” you mutter to your nails. 

Mike asks that you look at him and doesn't stop calling your name until you do. “If you don't want to blow up their lives then you could always write from the way you wish your life was. Give them the life you want.”

“I've tried that! And every time I start writing about… her, what she could've been doing, I just… I can't.” Your eyes begin to water as you feel yourself choke up. You apologize as you sit up straighter in your seat and clear your throat. 

Jan, your agent, sighs impatiently. “Those are your options, get to work or get sued. This meeting is over,” before anyone can say anything, she ends the call. You sigh as you slouch against your office chair. She was right. You needed to get to work. Or deal with the heavy consequences of quitting. 

You open up a new document to give it another shot. Nothing came to mind. It was hard to focus. You just had to organize what you were feeling in order to write off of that. But there were so many emotions that it felt as though there weren’t any at all. You got in a disorganized paragraph of nothing before you cleared the page again. A notification of an email from your best friend, Stevie, pops up in the corner of your screen and you open it. It mentions having found a grief group that they offer to take you to. Attached to the message is a link to the social media page. You breathe in through your nose and sigh out of your mouth reading through the page. 

You promised her that you would live a better life and this seemed like something that would help you get there. You respond to the email, agreeing to attend the meeting with them. You switch back to the empty document and start typing a random string of words. None of them connect into a sentence and they weren't supposed to. It was only to clear the clutter in your mind. 

A few hours later you startle awake from disruptive sounds coming from outside. You wipe your face, feeling the imprint of the keys from the keyboard on your cheek and see a screen of continued letters. You scoff to yourself as you delete the document entirely and open a new one. A few minutes later, you're reminded of the noises that had woken you up in the first place. You rise from the cushiony desk chair and walk over to the front window. Peaking through the blinds you see a moving truck across the street and spot a few women coming in and out of it with only a few boxes at a time. It was going to take them hours at that rate. 

Sitting in the corner of your unkempt living room was a metal dolly that held a few unpacked boxes on it. You figure that it couldn't hurt to be neighborly. So you quickly remove the boxes and roll the cart out of your home. “Um excuse me!” You call out to them from your front porch. It's no surprise they can't hear you from so far away and you silently scold yourself for being so timid. To help you regain some resemblance of confidence in yourself, you wiggle your shoulders to loosen yourself up a bit. 

You roll the dolly across the street and greet the only one outside with a kind smile. “Hi, I'm Y/n, I live across the street and couldn't help but notice you guys didn't have one of these. This thing was a lifesaver during my move.” You offer it to her and she appears to be genuinely pleased by the kindness. 

“Why thank you so much! Are you also offering your help? Because we could really use the extra hands. I had no idea how much crap my daughters owned until I sold our house.” The woman kindly asks with a joke that makes you smile. You are a little reluctant to agree to help but decide that it couldn't hurt to. It's just more steps in the correct direction, you say to motivate yourself. 

“Ugh mom! Please don't tell me you invited someone to come clean the energy of the house! Jules and I already told you the house is fine!” A woman, around your age or younger, grouches to the woman you were speaking with. The older woman rolls her eyes at her daughter's tone as she tells you to ignore her. “Thank you for driving out here but really, we don't need your services.” 

“Actually, sweetheart, this is your new friendly neighbor from across the street. They came over here to offer their assistance. Isn't that nice?” 

“Oh,” the younger woman says, regretting her entrance. “I am so sorry, my mother has a lot of weird friends that do a lot of weird things.” She extends her hand out with an obviously forced polite smile. “I'm Leigh, it's nice to meet you…” she offers you a chance to introduce yourself and you nervously do so. 

“My goodness!” Leigh's mother exclaims. “I apologize for being so rude! I must've lost my manners. I’m Amy Shaw, it's been a pleasure making your acquaintance.” You move your hand from Leigh's to Amy's and give it a quick shake. 

“It's really no problem. And it's nice to meet you both,” you get the dolly ready to move, “Shall we?” 

“Right!” Leigh turns around and climbs onto the truck. You roll the dolly up the ramp and help them unload the moving truck one load at a time. Along the way, you meet the third person, Jules. She introduced herself as you passed her. You learned that it was Leigh and Jules that were moving into this house together because neither could afford to live alone and their mom had, as she mentioned, already sold their childhood home. Amy agreed to help them find somewhere affordable for the both of them and cover the cost of moving. The place wasn’t much but it was a place to live. 

When all of the boxes and the furniture is moved in, the group of them invite you to stay for pizza and you politely decline the offer. “I unfortunately have somewhere to be.” You check the time on your watch and your heart picks up with anxiety. “I actually need to get home and get cleaned up. But it was lovely meeting all of you.” 

“Thank you so much for all of your help, really,” Leigh says as she steps around a few boxes to get closer to you. “I'll um, I'll walk you out?” She offers and when you try to decline, she only becomes more insistent. You clamp your mouth shut and gesture for her to lead the way. “Are you sure there isn't anything we could do to pay you for your help?” she asks once the two of you are out of earshot of everyone else. 

“Of course not, I offered to help. I wasn't hired,” you shrug.

“That is a very good point,” she says with a smile. “Well, thank you again for your help. If you ever need any help, well, you know where I live,” her light joke actually makes you laugh a little. Something that was hard to come by unless it was forced. “I do have a question for you though,” you hold your breath and feel your body grow tense as you wait. “Why do you look so familiar?” Her eyes are squinted ever so slightly and she crosses her arms over her chest as the two of you reach the end of her driveway. 

You nervously scratch behind your ear as you decide whether or not you want to lie to this person. She was going to find out regardless if you wanted her to or not. “Uh I'm not sure, I've had a few books published. There's a photo of me in the back of them. Other than that… I'm not really sure. But I'm certain we haven't met before today.” As she hears what you're saying it clicks in her mind where she has seen you before. You see the moment she connects the dots as soon as her face transitions from polite to sympathetic. Every bone in your body starts screaming at you to run.

“I lost my husband almost two years ago.  It's not the same as losing a child but… it was rough.” She rushes out. “And his might've been a suicide. I’ll never know for sure whether or not it was an accident.” Leigh seems to get lost in her head a bit and you shift uncomfortably. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that. May I ask why you are telling me this,” you say slowly. 

She looks at you with a small frown. “I guess, I'm trying to say sorry for your loss without saying those words exactly. I know that I hated hearing those words after Matt passed away but I have yet to figure out what should be said instead.”

“It definitely needs a little more work,” you say lightly and she smiles. “Thank you, I suppose. Uh…” you look at your watch and see that it's getting closer to the time that your friend is coming to pick you up and you're not certain you want them to anymore. “This might be too personal of a question but… Did you ever attend a support group after your husband passed?” 

“Ah, is that what you're anxious about?” You give her a confused expression and she apologizes. “Your face kind of drops every time you look at your watch,” she points out and you feel your cheeks heat up from the inability to hide your emotions. “I went to them for a while. I still go sometimes… It's… well, it's kind of something to just do. I didn't always like going in the beginning but I would still make time for it. I found it helpful sometimes. It was nice to kind of process in a room full of strangers that kind of get it, you know?” 

“So you think it's worth it?”

“I think it couldn't hurt to try but I don't really know you well enough to help you make that decision.”

Your lips raise in a small amused smile. “Smart,” you remark. Leigh nods in acknowledgement. “I think I’m going to give it a shot,” you say and give a small awkward wave goodbye. You cross the street to your house and take another shower with your music playing through a small portable speaker. Once you’re dressed, you lock your front door and sit on the porch steps as you wait for your ride. You weren’t going to allow yourself to talk yourself out of going. 

Anxiously, you check your watch and your phone as you wait for Stevie. You watch a pizza delivery car appear and disappear when you finally decide to call your friend. They apologize, and explain that traffic was worse than usual. You laugh and tell them that it was California, of course it was bad. Then you tell them that you’ll be waiting for them and hopefully the two of you weren’t too late to the meeting. When you hang up the phone, you look up to see someone approaching you with a plate in her hands. “I thought you might be hungry,” Leigh says as she gets closer. 

“Just couldn’t stay away from me, could you?” You tease her. She scoffs as she hands you the flimsy paper plate. “Thank you, I appreciate this.” You notice that she has a second plate and although it’s the last thing you want to do, you scoot over to make some room for her. “I could use the company,” you shyly remark as you take a bite of the pizza. 

“I suppose I can stay for a bit,” she says as though it was an inconvenience. Just as you’re about to come up with a clumsy response she sits down and nudges you with a short laugh as she tells you that she was only kidding. “I saw you all alone out here and couldn’t decide if you were waiting for someone or trying to convince yourself to leave.” 

“Ah, the curiosity must’ve been eating you alive.”

“That, and I have a bet with Jules. Five bucks if I’m right and ten if I can convince you to get in your car.” You laugh at their little game as you ask what her sister gets if she wins. “If she’s right she gets the five dollars, ten if it’s a date.” 

You scratch at your chin, still amused by their bet, and curious about how much Leigh has told her sister about you. “Interesting, so I’m assuming she doesn’t know about… me.” Leigh shakes her head and clears her throat as she explains that she felt it wasn’t her place. You thank her again. “I hate to make you lose five dollars, but I am indeed waiting for a friend. Not a date though. I needed someone to take me to this thing,” you elaborate for her. 

Leigh snaps her fingers and clicks her teeth. “Damn, and here I thought I was the expert on all things grief,” she jokes. 

“A little more research and I’m sure you’ll get there. Everyone is different, you know, and all you have to go on is your own experience.” You say more than you probably should have but Leigh doesn’t say anything against it. She goes quiet as she considers your words instead of telling you she was only making a joke. 

“So, okay, like I despised hearing the words ‘sorry for your loss’ but maybe someone like you might’ve appreciated them?” Leigh tries to further the conversation and you take notice. 

You hum as you think about it. “I don’t think I’m the type that despises or appreciates that phrase, but it’s not to say that someone out there does or doesn’t. I don’t care either way, to me they’re just words.”

“Uh-huh, and is that something you would want your readers to know?” 

You scoff, “What do my readers have to do with it?”

“Well, you would think a published author would care more about words than anyone else. I’m only a freelance no-name writer and even I am meticulous with the words and phrases I use in a piece.” Leigh explains and you instantly feel your blood run cool and your heart rate pick up. 

“Are you a reporter?” You ask carefully. 

Her eyes widen as she jumps into apologies. “Gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. No, I used to write an advice column and now I just write product reviews or about my journey as a widow. I’ve never done a sneaky piece on a person. Except for one time in college but the guy was a total douche,” she quickly explains. You nod, clenching and unclenching your jaw rapidly as you decide whether or not you’re going to trust this kind stranger. 

You clear your throat and set the paper plate under your foot as you wipe your hands. “I suppose, words, as many other things in my life, have lost meaning to me. I don’t know whether or not I care that my readers know that. My team might but even they don’t matter as much to me as they used to. At this point in my life, if I wasn’t under contract, I wouldn’t give a fuck if I never wrote another book again.” 

Leigh nods slowly, she remembers not caring if the world kept spinning. But she could see how you were likely suffering more than her, you lost your family in one fell swoop whereas she only lost her husband. As Danny had rudely pointed out to her once, she could remarry. But you can’t get your child back. It had to be different for you and so much worse. In the grand scheme of things, Leigh reminded herself, a death was still a death. Your child will never grow to graduate or marry or have kids of their own. Matt graduated and married but there was still so much life he had yet to live. She had to shut her eyes to clear her head and stop the comparisons. They were no use to anybody. “Can I have your book deal then?” She slips in the joke. You look at her with a scoff and she has a slow growing smile that only makes you laugh even more. 

Stevie pulls up and hears your uncontrollable laughter when they roll down their window. They shut the car off and strut up the driveway to see what has gotten you to laugh that loud for the first time in forever. They notice the woman laughing next to you and smile. “Hello!” They greet with a big smile. Your laughter dies out, and so does Leigh’s. She is a little sad that the conversation with you has to end, but is also glad that you’ll get to experience a meeting. “Sorry I’m so late, traffic was dreadful,” Stevie introduces themself to Leigh with a sharp handshake. 

“I’m Leigh, Y/n’s new neighbor,” she greets. They ask how long she’s been in the neighborhood because they haven’t seen her around before. “Oh just today, actually, Y/n saved us while we were unloading the truck.” 

“Oh, Y/n has always worked fast like that,” Stevie teases. 

“Watch it,” you warn your friend as you pick up the empty plates. “They’re full of shit. Don’t believe a word they say,” you mutter to Leigh. “About time you got here, by the way,” you say to your friend before telling them that you’re going to toss the plates and then the two of you can go. 

  Stevie replaces you on the steps that Leigh has yet to move from. “So,” they drag out suggestively. “What are your intentions with my best friend?” 

Leigh lets out a short laugh. “Nothing, I’m only being neighborly.” 

Stevie squints their eyes skeptically, “You know about them, don’t you?” Leigh was surprised by your friend's sensitive intuition, but she didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. She doesn’t say a word before Stevie starts talking again. “Mourning author with a popular series and more money than any individual needs access to…” they tiptoe around accusing Leigh to test out her response. Unfortunately for your friend, you return having overheard the small exchange. 

“You know, Stevie, you’re the only gold digger around here for miles,” you defend.

They flip their hair and strike a pose, “You flatter me too much, darling. This is California!” They shout the last word to the quiet neighborhood. “We’re everywhere, doll!”

You look to Leigh with apologetic eyes for your eccentric friend, “Please do not let my poor choice in friendship be a reflection of me. Stevie isn’t usually this…” you wave your hand in Stevie’s direction as you fail to come up with a descriptive word. Giving up, you sigh. “Well, no, this is just Stevie.” 

Stevie dips their chin towards their chest to lower their sunglasses, “And don’t you forget it, darling! Now, we must be on our way!” Stevie stands from the steps and offers their hand to Leigh again. “Tootles, hun, it was fabulous to meet you!” They walk off to the car and Leigh can’t help but burst out into another big laugh. 

You stand there blushing, waiting for a moment to speak. “Yeah, uh, Stevie was the first friend I made when I moved to LA as a starving artist. They’re not a bad person, they can just be… a lot.” You explain. 

Leigh settles her laughter as she tells you that it’s fine. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. Stevie seems great. I didn’t enjoy the implications, but I get feeling protective over those you care about. If I had a friend like you, I’m sure I wouldn’t want anyone to talk to them during their most vulnerable time either.” 

You worry that it means this will be the last conversation that the two of you will have. Part of you hopes that is the case. The last thing you needed to do was move on so quickly. Or was that exactly what you needed? You clear your throat. “Right, well, I should go. Thank you for the pizza and the company.” You say politely before wishing her a goodnight and walking to the waiting car. 

“I like her,” Stevie says as they pull away. “But you’re not ready for her. Keep your distance.” You sigh as you connect your phone to Stevie’s car and play some music to help calm your anxiety.

Chapter 2

Taglist: @abimess @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29

[chaoticparker]

Romantic

Tom Holland x actress!reader

Summary: You and Tom are secretly dating and go on The Late Late Show to discuss your new film and some suspicious photos.

Warnings: swearing and James kinda being a dick :/

a/n (edited): i just want it to be known that i wrote this fic before the photos of t&z came out. it was purely coincidental that both relationships were found out in the same way. (pretty sure i’m psychic now but whatever) so please don’t think i’m trying to copy their relationship.

w/c:2.5k

masterlist

Taking a deep breath and looking up to see the stage manager point you out, you walked onto the stage. Loud cheers and bright lights blinded you for a moment before your eyes adjusted but the soft brush of Tom’s hand brought you back to reality as you sat down on the couch, smiling at the crowd and James Corden.

“Y/n! Tom! Thank you so much for joining us tonight on The Late Late Show!” James cheered, taking a sip of strong smelling coffee from his coffee mug.

“Thank you for having us! It’s really nice being back on the show, James.” You smiled.

“Yup, it’s always a treat to be here!” Tom agreed.

“So, I want to discuss your new film, The Princess Bride. Can you say a little about it?” James asked.

Already having the questions and your answers memorized you quickly took the lead. “Well, it's a reboot of the 1987’s version, while still keeping the basic idea shown in the book and movie we added some comedy and modern twist of the story.”

“And we couldn’t have done it without the other cast and crew.” Tom added in. “Oscar Isaac was a perfect Indigo Montoya and had us laughing the entire time. I don’t think we could tape one scene and not end up laughing with him.”

“What did you both do to prepare for the role?” James asked. 

“When I found out I got the role of Buttercup, I rewatched the movie at least twenty times and read the book about seven times to get the core idea of who she is and how I can add my own layer onto the character.” You answered.

“What about you Tom?”

“I think I will watch the movie at least five times a week for a while so I could grasp Westley's character, and I listened to the audiobook in my sleep for about two months.” He joked.

“And did either one of you have a connection with the original Princess Bride when you were younger?” James asked.

“Well, when I was younger I loved the movie because of how it's like a satire on fairy tale relationships with a twist, it was always a comfort film.” You explained.

“For me, when I was younger I remember my mum setting up the movie at one of her friends' houses to keep me busy; and it was one of those movies that kind of stuck with me.” Tom laughed at the memory and you and James gave a small chuckle at his story.

“Did you always enjoy those types of movies, Tom?” James smiled, earning a hushed giggle throughout the audience. 

“Maybe a little.” Tom admitted. 

“Oh please,” You dramatically sighed. “Tom is the biggest romantic on set. Whenever we had a movie night, he always not so suitably offered to watch 13 Going on 30 and 10 Things I Hate About You.” 

“Hey, don’t forget about Legally Blonde.” Tom added in, cheeks flushed pink from being a little embarrassed. 

You giggled at the memory he was bringing up. Of course these movie nights only consisted of you and Tom, a version of a date which did not entail your relationship going public with dozens and dozens of paparazzi following you around. 

“What do you wanna watch tonight, babe?” You were laying down on your stomach on your hotel bed, flicking through the movies offered. 

Tom entered the room, toothbrush in his mouth, “I don’t mind.” Tom mumbled, trying not to let the toothpaste foam fall from his mouth. 

“Go spit I can’t hear you.”

Tom grumbled some more inaudible words and waddled back to the bathroom. You heard a dramatic spit then the faucet running then turning off soon after. 

“Better?” He asked, coming back out, waving jazz hands.

“Better, but you need to tell me what you want to watch!” You groaned. 

Tom flopped down onto the bed next to you, sneaking a hand around your waist to give you a sideways hug then leaned his head on your shoulder. “I wouldn’t be opposed to watching Legally Blonde again.” He suggested, then quickly added, “I know you said you liked the movie.”

You smiled a little then went to the search bar and started typing in the movie. “The first one or the second?”

“The first one, obviously!” Tom exclaimed. 

“Didn’t realize you were so opinionated on this topic, Tommy.” You teased, pressing the icon on the tv. 

“I only care about the important things though, babe.” You pressed play and threw the remote somewhere else in the room and snuggled back against the pillows with Tom by your side.

“Now, when I saw the movie, something that I really enjoyed was your relationships with each other as Westley and Buttercup. Did your relationship between the two of you help portray them?” James' question snapped you from your memory, and you were a little disoriented. 

“Well, we met at one of our friends party’s a couple years back so we’ve been friends for a while and gotten to know one another really well. Like, I know every detail about Y/n, and she knows everything about me too. So, being able to read each other very well helped us show their relationship.” Tom answered and you nodded your head agreeing to what he was saying.

Honestly you thought that James was implying what every other interviewer said. As much as you love Tom and how much he loved you, you both wanted to keep your relationship out of the public's view. Only your close friends and family knew about it and you both liked it just like that for a sense of normality in your lives. 

“So there was no real relationship between you two?” Never mind, there it is.

You both gave a tired laugh, both sick of the question. “No, but if the people believe our relationship is real because of our performance then we must be doing our jobs right.” You answered, having a fake smile plastered on and looking over at Tom he had one on too.

“Are you sure? Because there are some photos that say otherwise.” James took some cards out from the desk drawers and flipped one around for the audience and you and Tom to see. 

The picture was pretty tame, you remember seeing the photo on twitter but it didn’t get enough heat that you had to make a statement. It was of you and Tom laughing with your head thrown back, sitting down at an outdoor cafe. You were wearing your normal clothes with a pair of sunglasses on as a weak attempt to not draw too much attention to yourselves.

Grant it, you were on a date, but it was your lunch break from filming and you both wanted to get out for the couple of hours you had free. And after a long half day of filming that started at the crack of dawn and that would probably end until the sun had long been down, all you wanted to do was spend some time relaxing with your boyfriend away from set.

“When do you think we are gonna finish filming tonight?” Tom asked as you took a sip of your tea and he bit into his muffin.

“Luke says that I had to film the boat scenes and then we have to film the rock climbing scene followed by you filming the sword fight scene with Oscar right after.” You read off the schedule that the assistant director texted you.

“Does it say when we are going to finish?” He asked hopefully.

You frowned and shook your head. “Nah, they said it's undetermined.”

Tom groaned and sank down in his chair, “that means that it's going to be a late night.”

“Oh come on babe, the scenes tonight aren’t that bad.”

“Yeah” Tom sat up a little better and reached for his cup of tea, “but I would rather spend the night cuddl-FUCK!” Tom knocked his tea onto his lap and you started laughing, and your laughs caused Tom to start laughing as he gathered some napkins to clean up the mess. 

“We were just going out for lunch that day and Tom spilt some tea on him.” You clarified, sitting up a little straighter as you knew this was just the beginning of it all. “That’s why we were laughing.”

You wanted to reach for Tom’s hand and he wanted to reach for yours, just as a simple way for support. But didn’t because you didn’t want to create another reason for all of the rumors.

James tossed the old card off the stage then flipped another one. “Well, what about this one.” ‘Ooo’s’ spread throughout the audience and looking at it you immediately understood why.

Now, this photo you distinctly remember having to make a small statement about it. It's a simple one of you and Tom walking down some streets in London at night, when you were there visiting his family and friends for the weekend. But the main focus was on your hands holding one another. 

“Tom, are you sure no paparazzi hang out around here?” You asked, adjusting your jacket and reaching for Tom’s hand. 

“Yes, love, I’m sure.” Tom assured, kissing your shoulder. “I’ve been here tons of times before and I’ve never had any run-ins.”

“But if you’ve been here before doesn’t that mean they know you’ll most likely come here again?” 

“I don’t think I’ve been spot-”

A bright flash in the dark streets cut off Tom’s sentence and you both immediately retracted your hands from one another. A couple of paparazzi found you both and started taking photos and coming closer. Luckily you were close to the bar where you were visiting some of Tom’s brothers so you just jogged into the building to get away from them. 

You forgot about the pictures until the next morning, you were too busy drinking and having fun to be focused on that. But when you woke up with a mild hangover with about five missed calls from your publicist and texts from your friends asking if the photo is real, you knew you had to do something.

“Babe wake up.” You nudged Tom who was still sound asleep on his side of the bed as you opened twitter and scrolled through the photos that were taken. 

“Tom get the fuck up.” You lightly punched him in the arm.

He groaned and pulled the covers up higher over his bed. “Just give me ten more minutes, babe.”

You ripped the sheets away from Tom, “the photos from last night are out and we need to do something.”

He lifted his head up quickly and moved over so he could look at your phone. “What do you want to say?”

You shrugged your shoulders, still looking through all of the photos. “I guess I would like to tell friends, but I don’t want everyone to know just yet.”

“Yeah, it would be nice to rub it in my brother's face that we’re dating.” Tom agreed, reaching for his own phone. “Last night Harry would not shut up about how I have ‘no chance’ with you.”

“It was pretty hard to not kiss you last night.” You joked, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll text my publicit to let them know we are not a thing and what we should say.”

Coming back to the present time, you decided to take the lead on this one. “We were actually just going to meet some friends at a pub, and I was only holding his hand because my heels were too tall and I kept tripping.” 

The crowd sighed a little, causing you and Tom to laugh. “What? It’s true! I don’t do so well in heels other than on a stage!” You defended, talking to the live audience. 

“It’s true, she almost tripped like five times. If it wasn’t for me, she would have twisted both of her ankles.” Tom joked. 

“Okay, okay. Last one, alright?” James said, playing with the card. You both nodded your head, already thinking of an excuse to use. 

James flipped the last card around.

“Fuck.” You quietly groaned but thanks to your mic ended up being louder than you wanted.

The picture looked like it was from today, no more than three hours ago when you arrived at the studio to film this show. It was of you and Tom in the car, kissing each other right on the lips and by the look of the photo, you both seemed to be really enjoying it.

“I took this puppy when I was out for a coffee run.” James admitted, handing the card to you and Tom which Tom eagerly took. 

You both didn’t talk for a couple of seconds before Tom realized you were on live tv. “At least we look hot in this, right babe?” Tom smiled, trying to spin this around so you both didn’t look worse then what you already were. He turned the photo around to show the audience again.

You smiled and passed the card back to James who threw it off stage. “I guess we had to come clean at some point.” You admitted and the audience began to clap and gave small cheers.

“So, how long has the lovely couple been dating?” James asked, trying to get the first scoop on you two.

“One year and seven lovely fucking months.” Tom admitted as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, not scared to show his affection anymore. 

“And any plan for the future?”James inquired. “Do I hear any wedding bells soon?” 

“Honestly, I don’t think Tom and I need a wedding to prove how much we love each other.” You shared. “I’m not sure how a piece of paper and a party could make anything different then they already are. I already love Tom to the fullest extent and everyday I’m with him is a celebration of our love.”

A few awe’s spread throughout the audience and you hear a sniffle from next to you. Looking over you saw Tom trying to subtly brush away tears.

“You're really crying now?”

“What? I’m a romantic just like you said.” Tom laughed. They were clearly tears of joy, and he always tears up during any cheesy scene so you shouldn't have been so surprised. “But, everything she said is true. I don’t think a couple of rings could properly symbolize our love.”

“You two have been spending too much time filming cheesy romantic movies.” James joked. “But I guess it proves how you both were able to convey such a romantic couple! And make sure to check out The Princess Bride starring Y/n Y/l/n and Tom Holland. Goodnight!”

The band played the shows play out a song while you and Tom waved at the camera until you heard someone yell cut.

“It’s been lovely having you both on the show!” James shook your hand then Tom’s. “Can’t wait for the two of you to come back.”

“Thank you for having us!” Tom chided and took your hand as you both walked off the stage.

Leaning into his shoulder and pulling him closer you whispered, “we are never coming back here.”

[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

Get to Know Me Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @cutestkilla I loved reading your answers 💜

Relationship status: Married for nine years. Hubs and I got married on our 10 year dating anniversary. We started dating when we were 17. So yeah, we’ve been together a long ass time.

Favorite color: Green, and any shade thereof. My eyes are green, so it’s been my fave since I was a kid.

Favorite food: I love bread, though I try to eat less of it now as I get older, as it doesn’t do my body good. Also coffee, cheese and chocolate make life worth living sometimes.

Song stuck in your head: I’m going to pretend it’s not a theme song from kiddo’s cartoon and say Age of Consent by New Order because I adore that song and it came on while watching Paper Girls the other night. (Just started this show and loved the first two episodes.)

Last thing you Googled: “Exit, pursued by a bear.” Was beta reading for @whatevertheweather last night and she used it for a spell and I sadly did not know the reference. Now I do!

Time: 11:05 am

Dream Trip: I would really like to get over my fear of traveling to a non-English speaking country. I’ve only ever picked English speaking locations for vacations for fear of getting lost or not being able to communicate. The only exception was three days in Paris as part of a school trip where we went to London first, and the embarrassment I felt every time I had to ask someone if they spoke English is probably what’s fueling this fear. I live within driving distance of Mexico and have never been, despite taking Spanish in school for years. So yeah, some day I’d like to go to the Mediterranean and just chill if I need to use my phone for help. Or even Mexico. It’s right there!

Last book you read: I’ve got about an hour left of Reputation by Lex Chroucher and am enjoying it. The audiobook narrator does a fantastic job.

Last book you enjoyed reading: Going to pick a different book here and say Boyfriend Material.(Also loved the audiobook narration!) (Very much looking forward to Husband Material!) @bookish-bogwitch crafted an amazing ending bingo for it and I’m SO ready!

Last book you hated reading: I am slogging through the last Mirror Visitor book. I’ve been reading a few pages at a time for months and it is just so slow and boring. I devoured the first three and I can’t tell if Snowbaz brain rot is affecting my engagement or if it’s truly that bad. I turned my friend on to these books and he’s been anxiously waiting to talk to me about the last one and I just…can’t muster the will to read it for longer than ten minutes at a time. RIP. I also hated the narrator who read House on the Cerrulean Sea, so I abandoned that one even though everyone adores that book. Oh well!

Favorite thing to cook/bake: Cookies, scones, bars, pies. I never bake unless it’s a holiday because I can’t control myself if I make something like this and then have a massive amount there. I used to love cooking soups, stir fries and casseroles but having picky children turn their noses up at something I spent an hour or more making really makes me hate cooking these days. The 7 year old is getting more adventurous but the 3 year old hates dinners on principle so I phone it in a lot.

Favorite craft to do in your spare time: Spare time? What is this you speak of? I am not super crafty. I’ve tried a few things over the years but usually abandon these hobbies after a few attempts. I’m frankly shocked I’m still writing fic almost a year later because hobbies don’t usually stick for me. Does weeding and gardening count as crafting? It’s almost an art right? I do like being out in the sun with my hands in the dirt and seeing the way my yard evolves.

Most niche dislikes: This is a fun question. I doubt my dislikes are very niche. I hate the feeling of like a stray hair on my arm or wrapped around a finger. I dislike cilantro. I have a hard time watching a kid attempt a task that is far above their skill level. Watching them struggle when they are almost about to succeed is a joy but watching say, a kid try to open something you know they literally can’t drives me mad. Just give it to me so I can do it and we can move on!

Opinions on circuses, now and in history: What a weird question. Never been to a circus. Closest was a Cirque du Soleil performance which was amazing. I like books about circuses like Water for Elephants and Night Circus. That’s all I got. I feel like this question is trying to get you to say circuses in the past (maybe also now) are bad because of the way they treat animals. And like, you make that decision yourself. You don’t need me to tell you what to think.

Do you have a sense of direction, if not what is the worst way you’ve gotten lost: If I am with someone else I will often miss a turn from chatting and not paying attention so the other person’s ability to co-pilot is critical. I followed @fatalfangirl around in Vegas and just assumed they knew what was up. (Lol sorry I wasn’t helpful!) If I’m by myself I can usually focus and manage. I often have dreams of needing to get somewhere and just not fucking managing because a thousand obstacle get in the way. Worst gotten lost story: some friends and I in our early 20s miscalculated how long it would take to float down a river. We found ourselves with slowly deflating rafts, while it got dark, with no flashlights, and the river had turned away from the roads. We tried to beach our rafts and walk but found a bear instead. Oops, back in the rafts we went. Then we made it to a dam that we had to get out and walk around but we couldn’t find the path, only a path going the other way to the highway so we ditched our boats and followed the path in the dark, ignoring sounds of wildlife. Finally made it to the road and got picked up by a very nice older couple who probably took pity on us because we looked like their kids or something. When we went back to get our boats the next day the path around the dam was very easy to find by the light of day and we were like…a 20 minute float from our campsite LOL. Good times. I can laugh about it now but it was Not Fun when it was happening.

Tagging @fatalfangirl @whatevertheweather @bookish-bogwitch @moodandmist @aristocratic-otter @facewithoutheart @raenestee @martsonmars @sillyunicorn no pressure, only if you want to! 💜

[my-simp-land]

You Cheeky Slink

Bucky comes to you in the night to tell you about his latest google dive and maybe something more. Bucky x reader fluff. 1508 words. This is highkey self indulgent so get ready to read the fantasy thats been living in my head lately. Thanks :))

“Doll?”

Bucky stands at my door with just his head stuck into my room.

“Bucky, what are you doing? Where’s your shirt? You’re going to catch a cold wandering around with no clothes on,” I mumble from my pillow and plushie covered bed.

He smirks. He always does that smirk when he’s about to give some smartass response. That stupid lopsided smirk with he petal pink lips surrounded by the beard he’s been growing out. It’s kinda gangly but in a good way.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to come in then, so I don’t catch a cold in this freezing hallway. You know, you don't actually catch colds from being co-”

You had to stop the groan from falling past your lips. “Buck, love you and all, but now isn't the time to drop some of your newly found knowledge on me. It's...what time is it? Bucky, it is past midnight. Please tell me why you’re in my room at 12:38 a.m. talking about colds.”

Peter and I have been teaching Bucky how to use the internet and his phone, and We introduced him to Google a few days ago. Ever since then, he’s been catching himself up on most of what has happened in the last 70s years. It’s really heartwarming to see his interest in aerial technology and space exploration. We’re all glad that Bucky is adjusting well, but he’s been bombarding us all with random knowledge he’s found on the internet.

“Well, in all fairness, you were the one that invited me in, angel. I’m just doing what you said.” The smirk again. It’s too dark now that he's standing in my dark room, but I know the smirk. It bleeds into his voice. It makes him sound more...confident. Or cocky. “But dollface, we’ve explored more of space than we have the ocean. We don’t know what all is living in the deep parts of our ocean, but we know that you’ll get spaghettified if you go into a black hole. Some people think black holes are portals and some think they’re dying stars.”

“Wait, what? Buck, where are you getting your info?”

“Google, of course. Can I sit?”

“Sure.” The heavy weight of a giant man and his absurdly heavy metal arm rests on the corner of my bed. He almost seems hesitant to sit. I can immediately feel his warmth through the blanket. Despite me keeping my area freezing, Bucky always stays warm. “But Bucky, you went to a site to read these things. You used google but from there, what did you do?”

I can hear the wheels turning in his head. “Uh...the interesting looking ones?”

“You can’t believe everything you read on the internet, Buck. Anyone can put whatever they want out there. When you’re doing this research you’ve got to use reliable sources.”

“Reliable sources? Can I lean against the wall and stretch my legs?”

“Sure. Friday will help you with that, but Peter and I, and even Dr. Banner could help explain that to you in more detail tomorrow at a reasonable hour.”

Bucky shuffles his way across my bed to rest against the wall. He’s cautious of my legs as he makes his journey. It’s almost like he goes into assassin mode. Even though I know he’s moving, he tries his best not to disturb me.

“Well, did you know the footstep on the moon will likely stay there for at least 100 million years? There’s no wind on the moon, so it can’t be blown away. And did you know space is completely silent? There’s no air, so the sound waves have nothing to travel through so no sound.”

Bucky carries on with his space talk. Not long after we became friends, he shared that as a child he was interested in planes. He wanted to be a pilot growing up. That quickly became an awkward conversation. Now, Bucky is learning to fly with Sam, but once he learned our travels expanded into space, his dreams were out of this world. Bucky would start his google dives asking about some random thing, but without a doubt, he would end up on space exploration. Peter and I want to see how he’d do in a Wikipedia race. Peter thinks he would be amazing at it, but I know he’d get carried away and go down his own rabbit hole.

“Doll, Neptune has storms big enough to swallow the entire Earth! Can I get under the blankets?”

I hummed my approval and rolled over. Bucky’s voice is deep and raspy, and something about it can lull me to sleep. Usually I can’t sleep with any noise but Bucky is different. He could probably do audiobooks. Steve’s school videos and Bucky’s audiobooks. That’s quite a pair.

Bucky carries on with his space dump until I ask him. “Bucky, Russia got a satellite in space first. Sputnik. Would you have had anything to do about it? Idk. That might be a rough question but…”

He thinks, and he thinks hard. I can imagine his brows would come together, and he would bite at the right side of his lower lip. His Neptune blue eyes would move like he’s reading words off an invisible piece of paper laid before him. He would usually run his fingers through his hair, but Sam mentioned hair loss and that made Buck a little self conscious. I told him not to worry, but I’ll catch him catching himself.

“I’m not sure, angel. I don’t remember anything being about space, but maybe i just didn’t know it was about the space race. That is bizarre though. I was around when we made it to the moon, but I wasn’t. Can I get under the blankets?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck starts to talk again as he pulls the blankets over himself. He worms his legs undermine. “Bucky, get your popsicle legs off me. Go put those things on Steve.”

He lets out a small laugh before he continues his ted talk of everything. Bucky has been taken with space, but he’s interested in cooking too. He loves to sit and watch The Great British Bake-Off or MasterChef or Top Chef. It was quite sweet and funny when he tried to recreate one of the meat pies from season two of TGBBO. He was so confident, and his bottom was so soggy.

“We should grow a fruit salad tree. We’ve got to do something to a fruit tree, but we’d be able to make it grow up to 6 fruits! You could have peaches, Steve gets apples, Sam gets...I don’t know, and I get plums. We’d have to think of something for Pete. But imagine it, a huge fruit salad tree orchard behind the compound!”

“If it’s an orchard, why don’t we just plant a whole bunch of different trees?”

“Bragging rights. Can I lean on these pillows? I’m just gonna lean here.”

“Sure Buckbeak.”

“Hmph. Us having a fruit salad tree would be like the animals in Harry Potter.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky carries on, but his closeness and warmth are enough to lull me to sleep.

I woke up not too much later. Bucky has slowly made his way to fully laying between me and my pillow mountain. He’s pulled me in close to him and nuzzles his face into my neck. He somehow got his arms fully around me with my noticing. Our legs are intertwined, and thankfully, Bucky’s feet have warmed up. I can hear his heart beat in this position. Despite the torture and darkness he’s witness, his heart still beats like a young bird’s wings. His body and mind is old, but his heart is young. A young man from the 40s thrust into the 21st century. It is a cruel fate, but I know Bucky is strong enough to carry this burden. A heart is a heavy burden to carry.

I wake with the sun; a curious beam has made its way directly into my eyes. I go to grab a pillow to cover my face, but I seem to be in the death grip of a certain super soldier. I’m able to shimmy my way around to look at him. He looks at peace. Bucky always carries his anxieties and burdens, but in this moment, he looks youthful. He isn’t a super soldier who lost himself for 70 years. He isn’t a man who is widely hated and has to redeem himself. He isn’t a man with blood on his hands. He’s just Bucky; a great guy that will hold you when you cry or share a big bellied laugh with you.

“See something you like, dollface?”

“You slithered your slinky way into my bed.”

“No, no, no. You invited me in, so I wouldn't catch a cold. I just made myself not cold.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You were obviously the best solution, cuddle bug. Your heart is so full of love and compassion that it’s gone hot.”

“You’re a big sap.”

“Only for my best girl.”

[boldlyvoid]

Got a little carried away thinking about what I’d do for Spencer after Maeve died.

Cw: depressed Spencer, food mentions, reader is worried he might commit suicide, he’s fine tho

He’s not answering the door. She taps her foot anxiously and knocks again, “Spencer open the fucking door.” Still nothing. “You’ve got 5 seconds before I kick the fucking door down and you lose your deposit. It’s not a fucking joke anymore.”

Nothing. She pushes all the baskets out of the way, shakes the door to see how sturdy it is and then backs up, she lifts her leg and puts all her force into the kick. When she collides with the wood, she uses all of her body weight to push it forward, snapping the hinge and watching the wood fly in different directions.

She steps inside, the place is an absolute mess, he opened books and ripped pages. A chess set has been thrown across the room. A mirror fell and cracks, his curtains are ripped. All his drawers are open. “Spencer? Where are you?”

She walks into his bedroom to find it neat and tidy, his bed hardly slept in and piles of clothes thrown about. And sees that the bathroom door is closed and her heart sinks, “Spencer I’m coming in.”

She gives him a chance to cover up if he’s in there before twisting the door handle and opening the door, it opens fine and there’s nothing in its way. Inside she can't see him right away, not until she pulls the shower curtain back. He’s curled up in the fetal position with headphones on, listening to an audiobook that sounds like Leonard Nimoy's voice.

She smiles, getting down on her knees and lightly rubbing her hand over his shoulder. It startles him awake and his eyes fly open. He gasps and jumps back, “what?”

“You weren’t answering.”

“And?”

She just stares at him in silence. “I broke your door, I’ll pay to have it replaced, but I couldn’t let you keep ignoring me.”

“I’m fine.”

She nods. “Can I clean your house? You can go back to sleeping in here, it looks cozy?”

“It feels like a hug.”

“Do you want a real one?”

He nods and lunges forward, wrapping himself around her with the porcelain tub edge cutting into her stomach, he’s holding her so tight. “You’re okay.”

“Thank you.”

She doesn’t say anything because she knows that was hard enough for him to say, he doesn’t need to do anything more today. “I’m not leaving, I hope you know that.”

“You don’t have to stay,” he tries to push her help away.

“I didn’t ask, I was telling you. I’m staying here. You’ll have to call the cops to get me out of here, we’re making dinner, we can watch Star Trek and if you want. I can tickle your back again like I did that night in Omaha? When you told me how your mom used to do that to help you fall asleep as a kid?”

He nods, “can I nap first?”

She hugs him once more and kisses the top of his head, “do you want to move to your bed?”

“Please?”

She helps him up and brings him over there, tucking him in and turning to leave when he grabs her hand. “Don’t tell anyone else. I don’t want any other help, it’ll overwhelm me.”

“Of course buddy,” she smiles down at him.

She leaves his room and heads right to the maintenance office of his building. She pays for his door and offers to replace it herself for the inconvenience. It’s more difficult than she expected but his door closes and it’s fine. And she gets a second key, pretending to be his girlfriend and being given the spare. Next time she won’t have to break the door.

So she locks it and heads to the store, placing a note on his pillow so he doesn’t feel abandoned again, she’ll be home again soon.

She buys the essentials for Spencer’s favourite soup, making it for him from scratch while also cleaning his apartment to the best of her ability. She buys garbage bags and cleaner at the store, opening the windows and dusting everything. He’s still got his headphones on so she doesn’t feel too bad about turning on the vacuum, but he doesn’t wake up until he smells the soup.

It’s just a basic chicken noodle, but she sautéed the carrots, onion and celery first, drawing out the flavours before mixing in the chicken pieces. She cooks them up with all the seasonings she could find, he was surprisingly well-stocked in the spices department. Adding the water, she lets it simmer and out he stumbles.

“It smells delicious,” he rubs his eyes and walks into the room, “Woah, I can see the floor again.”

“I wrote down a list of every book that was destroyed, in case you want to get new copies? I never threw them out, they’re just in a bag, I didn’t know if they were triggering or just in reach.”

“Just in reach,” he smiles. “Thank you, this is really helpful.”

She smiles and joins him on the couch, watching reruns of Star Trek on the science channel and listening to all his facts. She had already watched every episode with him in hotels across the US, but back then she didn’t get the commentary, he wanted her to enjoy it. Now he tells her all the little facts, he pauses and backs things up to show her continuity errors and he repeats all his favourite quotes and he smiles.

By the time they get to eating dinner, Spencer’s starving and actually excited for the meal. He eats a little too fast, she has to remind him to take his time, his stomach has been empty for too long and it’ll make him feel worse. He listens, enjoying it now that he slows down, appreciating the fact she took the time to care for him.

When she gets into bed beside him she can tell that he’s tense, “you can tell me everything on your mind or nothing at all. I’m here for what you need, I don’t expect anything from you.”

“Just cuddles? No talking? I’m not ready.”

“Sounds good,” she opens her arms and lets him settle into her embrace.

She rubs her hand over his back, bumping along the fabric of his T-shirt and attempting to soothe him before he sits up and takes it off, throwing it to the side and snuggling back in. It’s easier this way, she can feel the bumps on his skin as her fingers trace down his back and her nails lightly drag their way back up. Over and over she does it in a figure-eight motion, the infinity symbol, hoping He's aware enough to know she means she’s going to be there for him forever.

She can tell he’s asleep when his breathing changes, his body gets heavier and his hand drops from her side to the mattress.

“Dream of me?” She whispers against his hair, hoping his subconscious will listen. “I promise I’ll take care of you in there too.”

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Payback | Dean Winchester

✦ pairing — Dean Winchester x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.2k

✦ request — I was wondering if you could do a dean winchester imagine that is like the reader is like young and has been with the boys since she was 18 and now she’s like around 21 or 22. She lives at the bunker with them and helps with research. So, basically she’s fallen in love with dean and has been in love with him for years. She never says anything because she watches him go after all these skinny girls and thinks she will never be good enough since she’s big and doesn’t think he’d ever like her. Then one day she basically just reaches a breaking point and it comes out to dean, and after some angst they get together. Then maybe some fluff or smut?

✦ warnings — angst, age gap (reader is in her twenties while Dean is in his forties), reader is kinda insecure at times, language, mentions of past sexual partners, mentions of a past ilegal relationship, a twinge of jealousy, suggestive stuff, some fluff.

════════════════════════

You heard laughs on the other side of the bar, right under the Bud Light neon sign. Unable to stop yourself, you looked that way.

A small friend group had erupted in laughter. There was a tall guy in the middle of two redheads — you couldn’t see very well, but you could tell he had caught you staring.

So you deviated your eyes to the right, where the bartender served one of your companions another beer. A couple of beers in fact. Dean was talking to a woman, undoubtedly charming her as he rested his elbow on the bar and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

You couldn’t look any longer, you would be sick if you did. He should’ve been doing that to you.

Realistically, you were probably twice her size or more, but you still could dream.

That was the problem, truly — you only could dream. Dean would quit hunting before even considering seeing you as a potential conquest. By this point, you should have been used to it.

Your eyes went back to the friend group from earlier. The tall guy held your gaze for a moment — you couldn’t figure out his eye color, or what his eyes showed under the uneven light, but you damn well could see he was handsome.

Not wanting to give him the wrong impression, you turned to your side and picked up your jacket.

Maybe you should also start to pay attention to the men who were actually interested.

But they weren’t Dean Winchester.

Comparing every man you met to him was a reflex, just like comparing yourself to the women he picked up at bars.

The Bunker was eerie every hour of the day, but there was something especially uncanny about an empty Bunker in the middle of the night. Devastatingly so.

Turning on the lights as you made your way towards the library, you made a beeline towards the kitchen. You weren’t in the mood for drinking anymore or for food, but you knew you needed to drink water.

Taking refugee in the library, you looked around a few news sites to see if you found something. It wasn’t difficult to find something shady or weird going on, but filtering out conspiracy theories was a pain in the ass.

Eventually, you found just what you were hoping you would. Dean and Sam rarely took you with them for hunts, but perhaps you could convince them this time to at least let you watch from the car.

Sam came home a little later, tipsy enough to be in a good mood. You told him about the case you had found, he said he would check it out in the morning and wished you a goodnight.

Dean didn’t come home. Why would he when he could have literally anybody he wanted?

You didn’t get any sleep. You had hoped that listening to an audiobook would lull you, but like most things, it wasn’t enough to even entertain you.

You were sick of this, of being into somebody who would never be into you. And who the fuck loses sleep for somebody who doesn’t see them as anything more than a sibling? You, apparently.

You needed coffee and a hug, but coffee by itself would have to do.

To your luck, Dean was already in the kitchen when you entered. His hair was wet which meant he was, thankfully, fresh out of the shower.

Instead of greeting you, he asked, “Where’s Sammy?”

You shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“He took the car.”

You didn’t even know Sam had brought the car home the night before. “He must have found the case interesting.”

“There’s a case?”

“Kind of. It’s not too far away from here,” you explained, “but I wasn’t sure it was something up our alley. I guess Sam thought it was.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you weren’t here.” You could tell your answer offended him. Good.

“You should have called.”

“Babying you isn’t my job, Dean.”

“Funny you say that when babysitting you isn’t mine and yet...”

“Can you stop treating me like a fucking child for two seconds?”

“Stop acting like one and I might.”

“God, you’re fucking insufferable. I can’t believe I’m in love with you!”

You didn’t know whose eyes were wider, if his or yours.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

He tried to be nonchalant, but Dean couldn’t even move. “Sweetheart, come on. It’s okay.”

You effusively shook your head. “It’s isn’t.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“No, you don’t get to tell me what to do or how to fucking react.” You were yelling now. Why were you yelling over this?

“I— well, I don’t know what to say.” He stuttered. “I mean, you are a kid. I could be your dad who had a kid at a young age, okay? This is fucking crazy.”

“You weren’t supposed to know. It’s humiliating.”

“I’m not going to give you shit about it.”

“No, you are. And then you’re gonna go and fuck somebody who’s actually hot and interesting and you’re gonna make me feel worse.”

“Hey, you’re interesting.”

“I’m not. And even then, you don’t go for them because they’re interesting, do you?”

“What do you want me to say?”

You wanted him to say that you were attractive too, that he would go for you in a heartbeat.

“Nothing.”

Both of you remained silent then. He had many chances to make it right, to have enough pity for you to at least apologize for not realizing you were in love with him sooner.

“ I’m gonna go,” you announced, having decided that this wasn’t worth it. The humiliation hurt, but his reaction stung.

He reached over and stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“What now?” Your voice broke and your lip trembled. Not now, you thought. But now it was.

“Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.”

He hugged you to his chest. “I hate seeing you cry.”

His arms were tightly wrapped around you, a hand on the back of your head and the other on your upper back.

“You’re making me feel even more stupid,” you admitted through tears.

Dean sighed heavily. His hand twitched against your clothed skin as he tried to keep himself from rubbing his face. “You know, maybe you need a break.”

“Are you really trying to get rid of me already?”

He didn’t deny it. So you pushed him off you and stormed out. You couldn’t even get a fucking consolation hug.

════════════════════════

You liked to think you were doing a good job avoiding him. It wasn’t like he spent that much time at home either way.

Expecting him to care had been too much, it seemed. You hadn’t wanted him to beg, or even fantasized about him chasing after you — you just wanted him to care, to at least told you he would forget about it or pretend you hadn’t said anything.

Sam entered the library, feigning interest in the stack of books you had piled on the table two nights ago.

He stalled, opening the one on top as though he hadn’t seen it before.

You shuffled in your seat. Waiting for whatever he would say.

He cleared his throat so you’d look up. You did.

“Dean and I are going out for a drink or two. Want to come?”

“No, I’m gonna watch something on my laptop and go to bed early.”

Sam gave you a worried look. “Well, if you need anything...”

“Have fun.”

Maybe Dean had been right, maybe you needed a break, and maybe —just maybe— this wasn’t the place you were meant to be at.

But you wanted to be there, and you wanted him. It fucking sucked that you would never get what you wanted just because you weren’t thin.

Story of your life.

You stayed in the library longer than you planned and eventually your tv marathon was held there. You had everything you needed and the chairs were comfortable enough.

Your laptop rested on the other side of the table as you leaned onto said table with your forearms and laid your head on your arm.

A knock on the thick door startled you. Looking up, you found green eyes.

“Did I scare you?”

You pressed the space bar to pause your show. “I wasn’t expecting you guys to come back early.”

“Sammy left with somebody so he’s not coming home tonight.”

You hummed, unsure as to what you were supposed to say. Should you say that you were happy for Sam? Should you ask why he hadn’t left with somebody too?

Dean spoke before you could come up with something. “Can we, uh, talk?”

Seeing you nod, Dean approached the table. He didn’t sit down, forcing you to crane your neck.

“I’ll find somewhere else to live,” you assured him.

He frowned, looking down as he searched for your now shifty eyes. “You’re leaving?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted to talk about?”

“No.” He rubbed his palm against his forehead. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

You twisted your mouth. “It’s a little late for that.”

He hurriedly said, “I don’t want you to leave. You’re part of the family.”

“I think I deserve space to move on.”

A groan slipped past his throat and lips, rumbling in his chest. He was growing desperate. “Look... I’m trying to be the responsible adult here because God knows you won’t be.”

“So now I’m an adult?”

“It was never my intention to treat you like a child. I just wanted to put some distance between us.”

“You could have said so.” You didn’t think you would need to state the obvious to somebody as smart as Dean.

“I didn’t want things to be weird or to give the impression that I could take advantage of you if you were too close. I would never do that.”

Not proud enough to pretend you knew what he was talking about, you admitted, “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“You’re pretty,” he blurted. “Really fucking pretty and interesting and so attractive that’s kinda unfair. And you’re also too young.”

“Dean.”

“Mmmh?”

“Kiss me.”

“Weren’t you listening to me?”

“Just kiss me,” you insisted. “We’ll forget about it if it doesn’t feel right.”

Dean took the chair beside yours out and pulled it to the side. His eyes didn’t meet yours as he leaned in, but they did when his nose brushed yours.

He softly placed his lips on top of yours. You saw his eyes screw shut before you closed yours. It was short and sweet, and when he parted from you, you feared you would have to go back to hide the way you felt about him.

Grabbing you by the waist, Dean made you stand up. He wrapped an arm around you while you rested your hands on his sides as a reflex.

He kissed you again, hard. So hard he unintentionally pushed you against the table. His tongue tasted of whiskey and those bacon-flavored chips you had never had the heart to tell him weren’t that good.

You brought a hand up to the back of his neck, kissing him deeply.

Dean took advantage of the fact that he had you trapped between the table and his body to caress yours. He started with your back and dragged his hands down to your ass.

His hands traveled to your torso, where he could surely feel your belly up, fingers toying with the hem of your black t-shirt.

You stopped his fingers from lifting your top and pulled away from the kiss. “Wait.”

“Having second thoughts?” he breathlessly asked.

“I’m not what you’re used to,” you explained through ragged breathing. “At all.”

”Really?”

You nodded, ashamed. One thing was him knowing how big you were and other was him seeing it for himself.

“Don’t take this the wrong way...”

“That’s a great way to let me know you’re about to insult me.” Fuck. You were getting defensive again — what a way to kill the mood.

“I’m not!” he defended himself. “I was going to point out that you’ve been around for a relatively short amount of time to know what I’m used to.”

“I’ve never seen you with a fat person before.”

“And I’ve never seen you with somebody older than you before.”

Was he playing dumb? “Of course you have.”

“Huh? When?”

“That guy in Texas was well in his thirties. And I dated somebody in their twenties when I was 16, I’m not too proud of that one, but—“

He interrupted you. “Nevermind. Shut up.” Dean kissed you again, bringing you flush against him.

You smiled against his mouth. “Is somebody jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. Serves you right.”

“You’re evil.” He bit down your bottom lip and pulled on it.

“It’s just payback, I promise.”

Dean snorted. “Can’t say I don’t deserve it.”

You remained silent, allowing him to dissipate the tension. You would let him do whatever he wanted, regardless of the outcome, but you were too scared to say it.

You didn’t have to.

“Hey.” He cupped your face. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he assured you. His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “We can take our time.”

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Wormhole | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 10k

A/N: This is a comfort fic disguised as a CM episode. Also, I had a lot of fun writing this.

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, murder, general CM things, hospitals, mentions of blood, psychopaths

You weren’t normally nervous to talk to Agent Aaron Hotchner. Sure, he was your boss, but he had also been leading the BAU for so long that you always trusted his reactions and motives. Still, the reason you had asked him to meet was so far out of left field that you were nervous he would tell you you were insane.

You were the first one in the office for the morning, perching on your desk in the empty bullpen while you waited for Hotch to arrive. You stood up when he entered the office, but waited to move until he made it to his office door and beckoned you to follow him inside.

“Good morning, (y/n).”

“Morning, Hotch,” you stood awkwardly in front of his desk, clutching the file in your hands.

“Please, sit. Is everything ok?” As soon as you made eye contact with him, your nerves settled. Everything about his behavior showed that he was genuinely concerned for you and interested in what you had to say. You took a deep breath, sliding the file onto his desk.

“I was looking into this cold case from the eighties, in Illinois. Mia-Rose Horn, 16, found murdered under a bridge. I have a theory, and I was hoping I could take a couple of days to go check it out.” You bit your lip while he picked up the file, thumbing through it.

“What’s your theory?”

“The only suspects considered were older transients in the area because the town was so biased against migrant workers. My preliminary research shows that the unsub profiles as younger, someone who knew the victim and her family personally. It feels like there’s a piece of the puzzle missing, and I think victimology can really help this case. I’d like to visit the dumpsite and walk the crime scene. I’d also like to go through the evidence to see if I can narrow it down a little more, and possibly do updated DNA analysis. I’ve already contacted the lead detective, he said it would be fine if I went out there.”

Hotch was quiet for a minute, reading the case information from the file. The longer you sat in silence, the more you feared he would say no. Finally, he closed the file and handed it back to you, “the FBI wasn’t invited in on this case when it was active, how did you find it?”

You blushed, hard. “I was watching a cold case documentary and when they talked about this one it just didn’t feel right, so I asked Garcia to pull the file. Once I looked it over more I realized my hunch was correct. They barely built a profile and the one they did make was wrong.”

“Do you work on cold cases often?”

“I’ve only worked on it when we don’t have an active case and I’m caught up on my paperwork, it makes me feel like I’m still making a difference when things are slow here.”

Hotch nodded, “you’re a good agent, (y/n). I trust that you’ll represent the BAU well. I can’t let you take the jet but you’re welcome to an SUV. However, as soon as we get an active case it takes priority. Do you understand?”

You stood up quickly, excitedly gripping at the file, “Yes sir, of course. Thank you so much. I promise I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think I could do something. I won’t let you down, sir.” Hotch smiled softly at your energy. You had reached for the door handle before he spoke again, calling after you.

“(y/n),” you turned, hand still on the doorknob, “take Reid with you, I assume he knows the details of this case, too?” You nodded quickly, practically bouncing back to your desk with excitement. You checked the clock, Spencer would probably arrive in the next ten minutes or so, giving you time to arrange everything you’d need for the trip.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, you were waiting for him, go bag in hand.

“Hotch said you could go?”

“Not only that, he said you could come with me,” you smirked, falling in step next to him as he walked to his desk.

“Really?”

“We’re leaving now, so get your go bag.” You did a little happy dance as he started to gather his things.

“Ooh! Where are you going?” Penelope joined you at Spencer’s desk, hot cup of coffee in her hands.

“(y/n) is solving a cold case, we’re going out to Illinois to get more information.”

“The one I pulled for you? You actually solved it? Is there anything you can’t do?” Penelope asked in disbelief. Just last week she had explained to you why she was convinced you were a superhero.

You laughed brightly, “I don’t know if I can solve it yet, that’s why I need to go check it out for myself. Yes, I’ll call you if I need anything,” you answered when she opened her mouth to speak again. She hugged both you and Spencer before you left, making you promise you’d call her with updates and letting you know she’d call the detective to let him know you were on your way.

In true Spencer fashion, he had brought enough audiobooks to last the whole drive. You didn’t mind, your brain was more focused on driving. You didn’t talk about the case until you were nearing the end of the twelve hour road trip. Spencer was the one to bring it up, turning down the volume knob on the console.

“How are you feeling about this?”

“To be honest, Spence, I haven’t really been listening.”

“I meant about the case,” he chuckled.

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up. It’s been a cold case for over three decades for a reason, you know?”

“We wouldn’t be in Illinois right now if you weren’t on to something. Instincts exist for a reason, and your instincts are usually right.”

You fiddled with the air conditioning vents absentmindedly, “I don’t want to dredge up old wounds for the family and the town unless I’m absolutely certain I can bring some closure to them as well. The detective is the only person who knows we’re coming. I don’t want to start interviewing witnesses until I know I can do something to help.”

Spencer nodded, “I’ll follow your lead, you just tell me what you need.”

You spent the rest of the time discussing the details of the case, Spencer looking over the file again while you navigated to the police office. Having Spencer with you made you feel a lot better. You knew the case front to back, but this was your first time leading an investigation and you didn’t want to accidentally miss something in the file out of nervousness. Spencer’s eidetic memory and genius brain would keep you on track and ask you questions you knew would only help you in the grand scheme of things. Spencer was also your best friend, your biggest supporter. Any considerations he had would always come from a place of love and mutual respect.

When you arrived at the police station it was late in the evening, but the detective was waiting for you. He was an older man, tall and mostly bald.

“Hi, you must be Agent (y/l/n). Nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Detective Reeves, nice to finally meet you, too. This is my partner, Doctor Reid.” Spencer brought a hand up to wave. “Thanks for letting us take a look at this.”

“Thanks for making the drive out here. This case…” he sighed, “Mia-Rose went missing two months after I started this job and I’ve been hunting her killer ever since. It’s been thirty two years, a fresh pair of eyes will do this case good. It’ll do the whole town good if you can see somethin’ I haven’t.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” you said, not wanting to promise any results to him. “Is there a room we can set up in?”

“I’ve brought all of the evidence to our conference room. Use it for as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” you took off to the door that he had pointed at, Spencer on your heels. He shut the door behind you, dropping his bag on a chair while you picked up examination gloves.

The next few hours were spent meticulously going over the evidence that had been collected. You occasionally made comments to Spencer about where the item had come from and any notes that had already been documented about it.

The clock had just passed midnight when you were ready to move on to the next part of your investigation. You wanted to walk the dumpsite, but it would be useless to go while it was still dark. Instead, you retreated to a small motel at Spencer’s insistence that you needed sleep.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to shut my brain off enough to actually sleep,” you confessed once you were wearing sweatpants and leaning up against the headboard of the bed.

Spencer wandered out of the bathroom, giving you the softest look as he sat down next to you.

“What are you thinking about the most?”

“The evidence told me exactly what I thought it would, but I can’t build a decent mental picture of what happened until I see the dump site. What if I get there and it still doesn’t make sense? What if I’m in too deep on this one, Spence?”

“This case has been cold for thirty years, it can wait one more night. You are an incredible FBI agent. You’re an incredible human, at that. I know you can handle this, and Hotch knows you can handle this, too. If you aren’t able to solve it, you’re not letting anyone down. It’s been a cold case for a reason, I’m sure you’ll solve the next one.”

“Logically I know you’re right, but that isn’t making sleep happen any easier,” you sighed, sinking down onto a pillow. You could tell from Spencer’s expression that he had an idea when he reached up, turning off the lamp beside him and laying down next to you in the dark.

“This is called Image Distraction, all you have to do is close your eyes, try to relax, and listen to my voice.”

“Are you hypnotizing me?” you giggled into the darkness, feeling like a small kid at a sleepover with their best friend.

“No, it’s just a strategy to help you fall asleep. I’m going to describe a scene to you and the idea is that it takes up enough space in your brain to prevent you from re-engaging with other thoughts. Hypnosis doesn’t actually put you to sleep, just in a trance that seems like you’re sleeping. It’s been proven to help change habits and thoughts around sleeping though. There was a study done in 2010-”

“Is that what I’m supposed to be picturing? I’m seeing dudes in lab coats and creepy hospital walls.”

You felt the mattress shake next to you as Spencer laughed.

“No, that wasn’t it. I’m going to start now, picture a waterfall. As you walk closer it gets louder, pounding onto the rocks below it and spraying a mist into the air. The droplets of water stick to your face. You can see a rainbow that touches the pool at the base of the waterfall. The plants growing around the pool of water are greener than emeralds, bright and shining in the sun…”

That was the last thing you remembered him saying before succumbing to sleep. You had a very vivid dream while you were sleeping, not uncommon for someone in your field, but it wasn’t one you had had before.

There was a teenage girl walking in front of you down a long hallway. You instantly recognized her as Mia-Rose. She turned around every so often, beckoning you to come closer, but no matter how fast you tried to move your feet it was impossible for you to catch up. The hallway was familiar, you realized it was one in Quantico that you walked down every day to get to the elevator. It took longer than normal to reach the end, and just when you thought you could catch up to Mia-Rose, Hotch stepped out in front of you, holding Spencer with one arm and holding his gun to your best friend’s temple with the other.

“You have to choose, (y/n).”

“Choose what?”

“One of them has to die. Him or her?” he moved his gun to point the barrel at Mia-Rose.

“I don’t understand, why can’t I save them both?”

“One of them has to die.”

It only took you a moment to consider, “me. Shoot me. Let them live.”

“Brave choice,” Hotch’s gun came to point at you and his finger squeezed the trigger.

You woke up.

Soft morning light was coming in through the window and Spencer was already awake, quietly tying his tie while perched on the edge of the bed.

“Morning,” he grinned when he noticed you watching him.

“Morning,” you panted, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“You were dreaming.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hotch made me choose between him shooting Mia-Rose or shooting you.”

“What did you choose?”

“I made him shoot me instead.”

You expected Spencer to launch into an analysis of your dream and what it meant, but instead he asked another question, changing the subject.

“Can we stop for coffee before we walk the dumpsite?” he pulled a blue cardigan out from his go bag and stuck his arms through the sleeves.

“Sure,” you said, stretching as you stood up. While you got ready, Spencer found the nearest place to get coffee, and you stopped there before continuing on to the bridge where Mia-Rose’s body had been found thirty years ago.

“I’m too used to walking active crime scenes,” you murmured when you pulled over to the empty dumpsite. Normally dumpsites like this were taped off with officers present, as well as some news reporters and civilian gawkers. You were sure that it had looked like that when the crime had first happened, but now it was just a bridge that nobody thought about.

When you stepped out of the SUV you noticed a small memorial for Mia-Rose nailed to a tree, wilted and weathered flowers around it. You stopped for a minute to look at it, then continued through the brush to the overpass.

Mia-Rose had fallen off of the bridge onto the ground beneath, where you were standing now. Her death was originally ruled a suicide, which had slowed the investigation until her parents insisted she wasn’t suicidal and had her autopsied, revealing ligature marks and evidence of assault. Just from reading the file, you knew that her parents were right. She didn’t profile as suicidal, and if she was she could have jumped from further down the bridge into the flowing river to your right, not onto the ground where she likely would have survived.

“Mia-Rose was found right here,” you pointed, “and her belongings…” you turned to your left, Spencer moving from behind you to stand where the girl’s school backpack and shoes had been found, a handful of yards away.

“They were found next to this rock.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said, facing him from where you stood, “the ME found traces of motor oil on her skin, so she must have been transported in a car. That means the unsub was driving on this road, stopped here by the bridge, then tossed her over the side. Why not just toss her stuff after her?” After thinking in silence for a minute, you started moving. “Stay where you are,” you instructed Spencer as you climbed the embankment. Once you reached the bridge, you stood on the edge so you could see both locations of dump sites.

“Spence,” you called to him, “how long is the average car?”

“Anywhere between 10 and 18 feet, depending on the size of the vehicle,” he answered quickly. You positioned yourself in line with where Mia-Rose’s body was found, then paced out roughly fifteen feet, landing you almost squarely in line with where Spencer was standing down the hill.

“What are you thinking?”

“This might sound kind of out there, but what if there was a partner?”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out how you had gotten there. He climbed up to where you were standing before asking you about it, “what makes you think that?”

“Eyewitness accounts said they saw Mia-Rose in a car with a man the night she went missing, and they were both sitting in the front of the car, but that’s about all anyone can agree on. What if there was a second unsub sitting in the back? If I’m the unsub getting Mia-Rose out of the front, you’re taking her stuff out of the trunk and tossing it over the side,” you acted out.

“Which means my DNA should be on her belongings,” Spencer concluded, finishing your thought, “I’ll call the lab and start getting things processed.”

“Good idea, I’m going to call Garcia and then we can head back to the station,” you said, pulling out your own phone as Spencer took a step away to make his call.

“Crimefighter! What have you’ve got?” Garcia answered her phone quickly.

“Hey Penelope, can you go through the list of Mia-Rose’s family members and get me some updated contact info?”

“Of course! Did you get a lead? I knew you could solve this,” she rambled. You could hear the clicking of her keyboard as she multitasked.

“Not quite, just a better understanding of the situation. I want to start interviewing family members to really nail down victimology and see if they know of anyone who fits my profile. Spencer’s calling the lab to get some evidence re-examined. When they send you results can you run them through CODIS?”

“Absolutely. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now, thanks Garcia.”

“Anytime, my love. I just sent the updated contacts to your tablet. Garcia out!”

Spencer was waiting for you in the SUV, once you finished your call with Garcia you drove back to the station. Detective Reeves assigned an officer to help you call the family members and invite them in for interviews.

“Mrs. Horn, thank you for coming in to talk with us,” you said gently to the elderly woman sitting across from you.

“Anything to help you find my little girl’s killer. Do you really think you can solve it?”

“We’re trying our best. Any information you can give us will make our job easier. Mia-Rose was walking home from school when she went missing, and was later seen getting into a blue car. Is there anyone she would have willingly accepted a ride home from?”

“No, she always walked, rain or shine so she could say hello to the neighbors on her way home. Except for Tuesdays, my brother Dylan would drive her home from band practice on Tuesdays because it was after dark.”

You exchanged a glance with Spencer, silently acknowledging that Mia-Rose was abducted on a Friday.

“Did she have any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt her, bullies or friends she might have had a falling out with?”

“No, she was sweet to everyone. That’s why it was such a shock to the town when she was killed. There wasn’t a soul who hadn’t been touched by her kindness.” Mrs. Horn spoke so highly of her daughter, further validating your theory.

“Let’s take a break,” you said, noting the way she was tearing up, “excuse us.” You stepped out of the room with Spencer.

“We should talk to Dylan,” he said once you were out of earshot of Mrs. Horn.

“I agree. He was interrogated by police when Mia-Rose first went missing, but I don’t think he’s a suspect. His alibi was rock solid, but he might know something about what happened.”

You had the detective bring in Mrs. Horn’s brother, Dylan Godfrey. While he agreed to an interview, he was much less cooperative than Mrs. Horn.

“I told the police thirty years ago, I had nothing to do with it,” he drawled, “I was at home with my wife, God rest her soul. I didn’t even have my car to kidnap Mia if I wanted to.”

“Where was your car?” Spencer asked quickly.

“My boy had it, out with his friends. He had just gotten his driver’s license. You know how kids are, impossible to control.”

This was the first you were hearing of his son. Nowhere in the records from the original investigation did it say Dylan Godfrey had a son, let alone a son who’s whereabouts were unknown on the night of the crime.

“Mr. Godfrey, let me ask you this. How old was your son the year Mia-Rose was murdered?”

“Eighteen.”

“Do you know where he was that night?”

“Out, like I said. He didn’t come home until after two o’clock in the morning.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Last I knew he was working on a farm just out of town, the McGilroy’s place.”

As soon as Spencer had gotten the information out of him, you were firing off texts to Garcia. She sent you the address of the farm, and you called her once you were en route.

“You’re on speaker, Garcia. What have you found about this guy and why didn’t we know about him before?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question. He wasn’t included in any of the original witness statements. I’ve barely been able to find information about him online. I know he’s still alive because I don’t have a death certificate, but other than that no home address, no phone number, no nothing. Everything I know about him is from his childhood, before Mia-Rose went missing.”

“Something is better than nothing, what did you find?”

“Daniel Godfrey, born in 1965 to Mary and Dylan Godfrey. He was a decent kid from what I can tell. He got good grades in school, even got a scholarship to a college in Chicago but he turned it down at the last minute. I’ll hit you back if I figure out why.”

“Thanks Garcia,” you chirped before she hung up. You pulled up the long dirt drive of the McGilroy’s farm, putting the SUV in park and getting out. Spencer was by your side in an instant, you noticed the way his hand rested on his revolver.

“My goal is to get him in for a voluntary interview. If we can get him talking, we can figure out what happened that night and why his known locations on that night fit our timeline. Best case, we get a confession and the name of his partner, worst case, he had nothing to do with it and we’re back where we started.”

Spencer nodded, so you reached up to knock on the door. After a moment, a blonde woman opened the door.

You flashed your credentials, “hi, I’m SSA (y/l/n) with the FBI, we’re looking for Daniel Godfrey and we were told he might be here.”

“He’s out back in the barn,” she said, pointing down a gravel path.

“Thanks so much,” Spencer said as you stepped off the porch. You reached the barn and pushed open the large door, revealing a man inside. He was carrying a bucket of water that he poured into a trough for a horse before acknowledging you.

“What can I do ya for?”

“Are you Daniel Godfrey?” you asked.

“Depend’s who’s asking,” he chuffed, wiping his hands on his dirty coveralls. You held up your credentials.

“I’m Agent (y/l/n) and this is Doctor Reid. We’re with the FBI investigating the murder of your cousin, Mia-Rose Horn. We were hoping you’d come in to the station so we could get some more information about her.”

“What kinda information? Mia’s been dead a long time now.”

You had to play this carefully, one wrong word and he wouldn’t voluntarily interview with you, “your father told us you were out with friends the night she disappeared. We were hoping you could tell us what town was like that night and if you saw anything unusual.”

“You talked to my father? I can tell ya right now, it was quiet. Just like any other night in this town.”

“Great, that’s exactly the kind of information we’re looking for. Would you be able to come with us to the station so we can get that statement through the official channels? While we’re there I’d like to ask you a few more questions, if that’s ok.”

“Are ya saying I’m being arrested?”

“No, not at all. This is completely voluntary.”

Daniel fell silent, considering your offer. When he finally spoke again it was gruff and hostile, “will my old man still be there?”

You exchanged a glance with Spencer, hoping he had a better read on what answer would be your best choice. Spencer’s tongue flickered over his lips, then he cautioned a response, “he’s there right now, will that be a problem?”

Daniel looked dejected, scuffing his feet in the hay below his boots, “not unless he makes it a problem.”

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Our car is out front, is there anything you need to do before we go?”

Daniel shook his head and quietly followed you and Spencer back to the SUV. He didn’t say much while you were driving back to the police station, and neither did you. You escorted Daniel inside the station, walking quickly past where his father was sitting, still talking to the officer Reeves had assigned to your case. Dylan stood up when he noticed his son, but Daniel just kept his head down and quickened his pace. You brought him to an interrogation room, a small space with just a table and a couple of chairs.

“You can wait here, we just have to go collect some materials and then we’ll be back, alright?”

“Whatever,” Daniel said, taking the seat closest to the door. You stepped out, shutting the door behind you.

“Did you see the way Dylan reacted when he saw Daniel?” you asked Spencer quietly. He nodded.

“Did you see the way Daniel reacted when he saw Dylan?”

“Do you think it’s relevant to this case? I don’t want to waste time asking about it if it’s just some squabble they had once. Hotch said I could only work this case until we got an active one back at Quantico, and you and I both know serial killers don’t take extended vacations.”

Spencer considered the situation, you could almost see the gears turning in his mind, “it might be a way we can get him comfortable talking to us, irrelevant or not. This is the best lead we have. Just like you said earlier, you have to get him talking.”

You trusted Spencer’s opinion, not just because he was your best friend, but because he had led his fair share of interrogations during his time in the FBI. He was really good at it, his accelerated mind picking up patterns of words and behaviors that you could only be envious of.

“What do you mean ‘I’ have to get him talking? I thought this was a team effort.”

“It is, but you have to lead this interrogation.”

You weren’t surprised at his statement, but you resented the fact that he was right. Your favorite part of your job was the quick thinking, the on-the-fly deductions you had to make in the field that helped you put all of the clues together. You liked helping people and actively putting bad guys away for the greater good of the country you served. You were good at your job, too, having spent so much time developing your skills with arguably some of the best agents in the Bureau. You couldn’t not be good at your job surrounded by minds like the ones at the BAU.

Like everyone though, there were some aspects of your career that you were better at than others. You usually excelled in the takedown and arrests of suspects and left the mind games to your colleagues that were much better equipped to handle them. Sure, you could talk a suspect into putting their weapon down instead of pointing it at you or a victim, but that was a heat of the moment interaction. Cool, collected interrogation rooms just weren’t your strong suit, and nothing during your time at the BAU so far had changed it.

“You really think I can do this?”

“Absolutely. You have the skills, knowledge, and rapport to conduct this interview,” Spencer showed no hesitation in his answer.

“Promise to let me know if I’m going down the wrong rabbit hole?”

Spencer smiled, “of course. Let’s go solve this case.” He handed you a sheet of paper, a form for Daniel to sign with his Miranda rights on it.

Once you were seated across from Daniel, you handed him the paper and read him his rights.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Daniel, what happened between you and your father?”

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back and forth between you and Spencer, “what kind of FBI agents are you?”

“We’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia. We use psychology to solve crimes. I hope my question wasn’t intrusive, Doctor Reid and I both just noticed the way your behavior changed when you saw your father. He’s been helpful in our investigation and I don’t want any family conflicts to interfere if you’re going to help us too.”

“We had a disagreement.”

“Just a disagreement?” you pressed carefully.

“Just a disagreement.”

“Alright,” you said, deciding to leave it at that and move on. He was giving you too much resistance for the direction you had wanted to take the conversation, so you changed the subject. If his disagreement with his father was relevant to the case, you’d have to get that information out of him another way.

You started off by asking about Mia-Rose and gathering any information Daniel had about her. At first he was reluctant, just explaining that they saw each other during family gatherings and when his father would drive them both home from band practice.

“You went to the same high school then, if you were in band together?”

“Uh huh. It’s a small town, everyone goes to the same school.”

“Can you tell us about who Mia-Rose spent time with? Who were her friends?”

“Everyone was her friend. She was the friendliest kid in school.”

“Who were your friends?” Spencer asked, tilting his head. It wasn’t a question you had thought to ask, but as soon as he did you saw where he was going.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” Spencer answered.

“Alec Krause, Markus Sparrow, Nicolas Rush,” Daniel listed.

“Where are they now?” you asked while Spencer pulled out his phone, presumably to text Garcia for a background check, “are you still in contact with them?”

“They all moved out of town for college. Haven’t seen or talked to ‘em since,” Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“You were supposed to go to college, in Chicago, right?” you prompted. Daniel’s eyes flickered between you and Spencer, probably wondering how much about him you knew.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Got a job at the farm,” he shrugged.

“Daniel, I’m going to be real with you,” you squared up, “I’ve seen plenty of small towns in this job. I’ve talked to many people from small towns just like this one, and almost all of them in your position would have taken the out. They would have moved to the city as soon as they got the chance, so why didn’t you? Why did you choose to stay in this town?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Daniel was quick to correct you.

“You didn’t?” Now you were on to something.

“The disagreement I had with my father was about me leaving. He wouldn’t let me leave, so he got me the job at the farm.”

“Alright, let’s take a break,” you said, standing up and stepping out of the room. Spencer exchanged a few words with Daniel, then followed you out.

“That was big,” you panted, trying to shake out the jump of adrenaline that you were feeling.

“You’re doing great,” Spencer confirmed.

“When Dylan was talking about his son earlier, during his interview, it seemed like he didn’t have control over Daniel. What was it he said, ‘you know how kids are’? Something must have changed to make Daniel listen to his father telling him to stay, something that changed after Mia-Rose was murdered.”

Right before you were going to go back into the interrogation room, your phone rang. Hotch’s name lit up the screen.

“Hold on, Spence. (y/l/n),” you answered, praying that Hotch wasn’t going to tell you to abandon the case and get back to Quantico right when you were making strides.

“I’m just checking in to see how things are going.”

“We’re talking to a person of interest right now, it’s just very slow going. We think he had been working with a partner when the murder took place, but he’s not giving up names,” you explained, “please don’t tell me we have a case that we have to come back for, we just got a break that might open this case up for us.”

Hotch chuckled on the other end of the line, “no, we don’t have a case. Garcia told me you had a lead and I was curious.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how you were a prosecutor before joining the BAU. This is exhausting, and every time I say something I feel like he’s going to invoke.”

“You’re doing fine,” Spencer whispered reassuringly.

“Spencer says I’m doing fine,” you relayed to Hotch.

“I’m sure you are. Sometimes unsubs like this take time to crack,” he reminded you.

“It’s already been thirty years, I’d like to close it now,” you decided, squaring your shoulders. “I’m going to go back in there and wrap this up. I’ll call you back when we’re done.” You hung up with Hotch, then turned to Spencer. “Let’s do this.”

Daniel seemed to tense up when you walked back in, sitting down across the table from him once again.

“Thanks for being patient, Daniel. I’d like to know why your father wouldn’t let you leave town. From what he told us, he gave you a lot of freedom in high school. What happened?”

“We had a disagreement, like I said.”

“Right, we’ve covered that. It must have been hard going from being able to do whatever you wanted to working a farm job under your father’s thumb. I was hoping you could tell us exactly what kind of disagreement. Was it because Mia-Rose was murdered?” Daniel nodded, “ok, that’s a start. Was there a specific reason beyond Mia-Rose’s murder?”

Your tactic was deliberate, validating his feelings before pressing harder in hopes that he would give something up.

“He didn’t want me getting into more trouble.”

“More trouble? As in, you got into trouble here first?”

“Correct.”

“We don’t have any police records for you, Mr. Godfrey. Usually that’s the kind of ‘trouble’ that stops kids from going to college,” Spencer chimed in.

“The police don’t know I was there.”

“Where?” Your question was burning hot, and you watched Daniel squirm as he realized he had dug himself into a hole.

“I was in the car.”

“Which car?” you hoped he meant the car you thought he did, but you needed a true confession.

“My father’s car…” you chose not to say anything and instead let him sit in uncomfortable silence, “the night Mia was killed.”

“With her? Was Mia in the car with you?”

“Yes, she was.”

You had to maintain your composure, even though your insides were doing cartwheels out of excitement. This was exactly the kind of lead you were looking for, you couldn’t blow it now.

“Your father said you were out with friends, were any of the people you mentioned earlier with you? Alec, Markus, and Nicholas?”

“No, it wasn’t with them.”

“Who else was in the car then, Daniel? It wasn’t just you and Mia-Rose.”

“I don’t remember,” he started backpedaling, a clear sign that you were closing in.

“We’re going to step out and give you some time to think about it, see if you can try to remember,” Spencer interrupted before you could say anything, nodding towards the door when you made eye contact with him. You followed him out, turning to him abruptly once the door was shut behind you.

“I was getting somewhere with him.” You were fired up, to say the least. Now that you were in the comfortable privacy of Spencer’s company, you could let your emotions come forward.

“I know, I know,” Spencer smirked, “Garcia got a hit with Daniel’s friends, we should call and see what she has so we have more leverage when we go back in there.”

You took a deep breath, pulling out your phone and calling Garcia.

“Boy Wonder got my text!” she answered after the first ring.

“What did you find, Garcia? We’re really making strides here and anything you’ve got could really close this for us.”

“I ran the names of Daniel’s friends, like you asked. Almost all of them checked out, normal guys with normal lives.”

“Almost all of them?” you caught the specificity of her words.

“Right. One of them, Markus, he checks out too… but his brother, oh my his brother has done some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Spencer asked, brows furrowed in thought.

“Kyle Sparrow. When he was 11 he attempted to rob a bank, and not just as a joke. When he was 14 he was suspended from school after locking students in storage closets. He’s been in and out of jail his whole adult life. He got out a year ago and hasn’t been back since.”

“That fits our profile. How old was he when Mia-Rose was killed?” Spencer followed up.

“That’s where things get weird, I was hoping you guys would have a good explanation because this really doesn’t make sense.”

“Garcia,” you called, refocusing her.

“Right. Kyle Sparrow was 10 years old when Mia-Rose was murdered.”

“What?” you whipped around to look at Spencer incredulously, hoping he would have some kind of information about child serial killers that would clarify the situation. Instead, he just frowned and shook his head. You had to decide if it was worth bringing up to Daniel and risk wasting precious time. You considered for a moment, then spoke. “Send us his address, we’re going to ask Daniel about him. If he seems like a viable lead then we’ll head out there. Thanks Garcia.”

“Done and done. You’ve got this, crimefighters!”

“Are you ready to go back in there?” Spencer asked when you reached for the interrogation room door handle.

“Do I have a choice? This case just took a turn that I wasn’t expecting.”

“It’s been four hours and thirty six minutes. We can take another minute to get coffee if you need a longer break,” he suggested.

“I’m too close to cracking this. I can feel it,” you confessed. Spencer nodded, acknowledging that your gut feelings were usually right. You opened the door, sitting back down across from Daniel. Spencer stood in the corner behind you, hands in his pockets.

“Did you remember who was in the car with you the night Mia-Rose was murdered?” Daniel shook his head. “Ok, that’s fine. I have some names that we’ve collected as people of interest for this case. I’m going to read them off and you tell me if one sounds familiar, ok?” Daniel nodded, so you opened your file and pulled out a blank piece of paper, holding it so Daniel couldn’t see the lack of information on your side.

“Emily Prentiss.”

He shook his head.

“Derek Morgan.”

Again, nothing.

“Penelope Garcia.”

Your list was intentional, listing people you were certain Daniel wouldn’t know so you could get a baseline for his behavior. It paid off when you listed the next name, “Kyle Sparrow.”

You could practically see Daniel tense up. Though he shook his head, his leg started bouncing nervously and his eyes were flickering frantically around the room, looking anywhere but at you and Spencer.

“Daniel,” you started, keeping your voice low, “remember when I told you Doctor Reid and I use psychology and behavior to solve crimes? You may not have noticed it, but your behavior shifted when you heard Kyle’s name. You know something about him, don’t you? Was he in the car with you that night?”

Daniel finally looked up at you, eyes watering, “I’m not a criminal.”

“I didn’t say you were. Was Kyle in the car with you the night Mia-Rose was murdered?”

“He was just a kid, my best friend’s little brother. We were out in my dad’s car, I had just gotten my license so I skipped class and took Markus and Alec for a spin around town. When I dropped them off back home Kyle said he was lookin’ to go across town to the library so I offered him a ride. I even made him sit in the back because he was still just a small kid. Then we saw Mia walking home. It always took her longer because she stopped to say hi to everyone she passed. Kyle suggested we offer her a ride too, so I did.

“It all happened so fast, first she was getting into the car and then Kyle had a knife at her throat. He told me he’d kill her if I didn’t do what he wanted. He made me drive out of town to the woods and watch as he tied her up and did horrible, horrible things to her. I didn’t even know a kid was capable of doing those things. When he was done with her he made me help put her back in the car and drive to the bridge. She wasn’t dead when he made me push her over the edge, that’s why I didn’t throw her in the river. I thought she’d survive it without Kyle knowing because he was too busy getting rid of her stuff in the trunk. He still made me drop him off at the library after, even though it was closed on account of it being real late at night, and swear that I’d never tell anyone what we did or he’d kill me too.”

“How did your father find out?” you asked.

“He found blood in the car the next morning. I told him it was from Markus, that he had gotten scratched up while we were messing around in the afternoon. He made me clean it out with bleach, told me I’d have to learn responsibility if I wanted to move out. When my auntie called him later and told him about Mia being missing, he connected the dots. He told me he didn’t want to know what I had been doing the night before, but if I tried to move away it would make me a suspect. He got me the job at the farm and I’ve been there ever since.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Daniel. We’ll tell the court how cooperative you’ve been, they might ease your sentence because of it.”

“The court? What?” Pure fear crossed Daniel’s face. It didn’t sit right with you that he had to be arrested, knowing he had been coerced into helping murder his cousin, but he had still committed a felony. You had to let the court decide his fate.

“Daniel Godfrey, you’re under arrest for accessory to the murder of Mia-Rose Horn,” Spencer moved behind Daniel, taking his hands to cuff them. As soon as he was done Daniel was passed off to an officer and you and Spencer took off, SUV keys in hand.

You sped towards the home address Garcia had sent you for Kyle Sparrow, wishing the rest of the team was there so you could split up in case he was at work. This part of your job was where you felt the most comfortable, the tactical side of an arrest that was more physical than the mind games you had just played in the interrogation room. It was just starting to rain, a light drizzle that darkened the skies as you drove to what you hoped was your final location for this case.

“Is there Kevlar in the back?” you asked, realizing you hadn’t gotten vests from the police station before you had left. Spencer turned around in his seat, checking around the vehicle.

“Nope.”

“Great,” you sighed, “let’s try not to get shot at then, alright?”

“Sounds good to me,” Spencer agreed.

You pulled up to Kyle’s house, which was more of a rundown shack on the outskirts of town. You drew your weapon as soon as your boots were on the ground, approaching the door cautiously.

“Where’s Morgan when you need him,” you mumbled, hoping you wouldn’t have to kick the door down, “Kyle Sparrow, FBI,” you announced, knocking on the door. A gunshot flew through the window next to you, shattering the glass. That was all the invitation you needed to bust open the door, but Kyle wasn’t in the room inside. You moved quickly through the maze of rooms, taking one side while Spencer took the other.

“Clear,” you called every time you ensured a room was empty. You heard Spencer clear a couple of spaces, then fall silent. You worked your way to the kitchen, finding him in a standoff with Kyle.

“I’m not going to jail again. You can’t make me,” Kyle seemed unreasonably calm, grinning slightly to himself while he pointed a pistol at Spencer.

“You’re wanted for the murder of Mia-Rose, Kyle. There’s no way to get out of this one,” you had to keep things simple for him and talk him down as quickly as possible before he shot at you again, “let’s just talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to jail for a person I killed thirty years ago.”

“There’s no other option. We know it was you, this ends here.”

“If I have to go back, it has to be for something better. You’re right, this ends here, but not because I killed Mia-Rose Horn.”

“How does it end, Kyle?” Spencer asked. You noticed the glint in Kyle’s eye, giving you a split second to push Spencer out of the way and get hit with a searing pain in your side. You heard Spencer’s revolver fire as you hit the floor.

“Get him first,” you grunted, putting a hand on your side to try to stem the bleeding. Spencer crouched next to you, worried eyes looking you over before he pulled your handcuffs out of your pocket. Your ears were ringing, but you could just make out the sounds of Spencer talking before you blacked out.

You woke up in the hospital, an all too familiar experience. Spencer was beside you, nose in a book. You weren’t sure how much he was paying attention to it though, considering the way his brows were furrowed and his fingers were tapping against the cover. He was lost in thought somewhere, you just didn’t know where.

“Spence,” you managed to croak through your dry throat. His eyes shot up from the page, lips turning up in a small smile when his gaze met yours.

“Hi,” he practically whispered.

“Is Kyle dead?”

Spencer hesitated, no doubt weighing the value of telling you the outcome now or waiting until you were better rested. He chose the former, shaking his head.

“I did what you would have done and shot him in the hip. He’s not dead, and once he’s healed he’ll go to trial. You did it, (y/n). You solved the case.”

“We solved the case. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You also wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

“So?” you shrugged, “I lived. Where’s Garcia? Usually she’s the first one at the hospital.”

Spencer’s smile returned, “she wanted to but a case came in right right after you went into surgery. She sends her love and said she’d make up for not being here when we get back to Quantico.”

“A case? We should get back to help,” though you were exhausted, you brain immediately went into profiling mode.

“No, you’re going to stay here and rest. You should be staying for longer than you’re going to, but I was able to convince your doctor that I was more than capable of making sure you got home safely.”

“I didn’t realize you were a rule-breaker,” you teased, feeling your eyelids droop.

“I’m not, I just thought you would want to go home as soon as possible. You’re not the kind of person who likes being away from their family, and we’ve already been gone three days. Staying here doing nothing, although it would be good for you, would just torment you more.”

“Thanks, Spence,” you murmured, falling back to sleep. You dozed on and off for the better part of the day, Spencer staying by your side the whole time. Towards the end of the afternoon, you woke up to his seat vacant. The immediate panic you felt was squashed by calculated thoughts, he’s probably getting food or in the bathroom. You fought to stay awake while you waited for him to come back. He surprised you by returning with someone behind him.

“Mrs. Horn wanted to talk to you, if you’re feeling up for it,” he said, resuming his position in the chair next to you. You nodded, watching the older woman enter the room from where she had been standing in the doorway.

“I wanted to thank you for finding my daughter’s killer, even though it put you in the line of danger.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” you reassured her, sitting up a little against your pillows.

“I wish her father could have been here to see it solved. He always told me not to lose faith, that a blessing would come our way. You were our blessing,” she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I was just doing my job, I’m sorry it took so long for someone to figure this out.”

Mrs. Horn tutted, telling you she was just glad that her daughter could rest in peace now. Before she left, she made sure to tell you that if you were ever in Illinois you and Spencer were welcome to come over for dinner, and that she hoped you got better quickly so you could go help other victims.

Once she was gone, your doctor came in to follow up with you. You had been shot in the side, the bullet passing through and exiting out of your back without hitting any major organs. Spencer did most of the talking for you, asking questions you couldn’t make sense of and checking over your chart for what was probably the hundredth time that day.

“You seem to be healing well and have a… knowledgable… support system, so I’m going to clear you for discharge. If anything changes you’ll need to go into the nearest hospital, ok?”

“Yes ma’am,” you answered. A nurse came in later with your discharge papers, which you signed before Spencer helped you in a wheelchair and out to where the SUV was parked.

“Are you sure you want to drive in this rain? I can-“ you winced in pain, hand flying to your side, “I can do it if you don’t feel comfortable.” Spencer stifled a laugh, reaching his hands out to give you something to brace yourself against as you moved from the wheelchair the SUV.

“I don’t mind driving,” he said simply.

“Yes you do,” you quipped quickly, exhaling as you settled into the passenger seat.

“Ok, yes. Under normal circumstances, I do mind driving, but I think I can make an exception when my favorite driver has been shot.”

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” you smirked, still struggling to breathe in a way that would make your side hurt less.

“Are you warm enough?” Spencer fiddled with the heating knobs once he was settled behind the wheel. You nodded, but the shiver that ran down your body betrayed you.

“You’re the one driving. I want you to be comfortable,” you mumbled.

“You’re the one who just got shot. Here,” he reached behind him into the back where both of your go bags were stored. He unzipped his own and pulled out a cardigan, then leaned over the console to drape it across you. “The wool will help you retain heat.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, relishing in the comfort of his gesture.

“You didn’t have to take that bullet for me.”

“I did. I pulled you into this mess, I wasn’t going to let you get hurt because of it.”

“Hotch sent me with you so that you wouldn’t get yourself hurt,” he rebutted.

You brushed him off, “I’ve been shot before, I’m going to be fine.”

“I’ve also been shot before, you didn’t have to push me out of the way.”

You were quick to counter, “you didn’t have to push Blake out of the way either.”

It was an unnecessary squabble, a fact you both caught onto quickly once you realized the direction the conversation was going. Instead, Spencer changed the subject to explain the history of the small towns you were passing through on your way to the interstate.

Miraculously, once the car was comfortably cruising on the highway, Spencer fell silent. You suspected it had to do with his intense concentration on driving in the elements as the rain got harder, though he also could have been giving you the space to sleep if you needed to.

It wasn’t until you were over an hour into your journey that he spoke again, after a quick glance at you revealed fresh tear tracks down your cheeks under the passing street lights.

“(Y/n), are you crying?” His question was so soft you almost missed it, “is it the pain? You’re not due to take your meds for another three hours but I know you have ibuprofen in your bag that would be ok to take now. I can pull over-“ his hand was about to move back to the steering wheel from where it had come to rest on the console, but you reached out to grab it instead.

You and Spencer didn’t really ‘do’ physical contact. You both had reasons not to, instead finding comfort just in proximity. As long as he was around, you were happy. This time, though, it was different. Maybe it was because you were touch starved, or because you had just been poked and prodded at all angles while in the hospital. Whatever the reason, the light grip you had on Spencer’s hand to stop him from pulling over was enough to make you feel the tiniest bit better. He was there with you, he was real.

“It’s not the pain,” you managed to hold your composure, knowing that letting any kind of sob escape the confines of your soul would only physically hurt you more.

“Are you tired? I drank enough coffee to get us home by morning but if you really need to sleep we can find a hotel somewhere. There are three off the next exit.”

“Spencer,” you ran your thumb over the prominent vein in his hand, “it isn’t something you can fix.”

“What do you mean?” He was puzzled, and by the way his hands were twitching you could tell he was deciding whether or not to stop the car anyways.

“There are hundreds of thousands of cold cases. Hundreds of thousands of families that don’t have closure. Hundreds of thousands of victims that haven’t gotten justice.”

“There’s one less because of you. You made a difference to Mia-Rose’s family, you got her the justice she deserves.”

“She deserved justice thirty years ago. I feel like the system failed her, the very system I work for. She was just a kid, and the answer was right there the whole time. Why did I have to be the one to figure it out, thirty years too late?”

Spencer’s response was soft and gentle, “because you’re exceptional, (y/n).”

“I didn’t have to be exceptional to solve this case, though. That’s what I’ve learned from all of the cold case documentaries I’ve watched. The ones that get solved are because someone knew what happened and didn’t come forward about it until years later. There was a psychopathic kid on the streets for thirty years because the police didn’t think to talk to Daniel Godfrey.”

“We can’t change what happened in the past, but we can make a difference in our futures.”

“I’m just so tired, Spence. I chose this job, I love this job, but it’s exhausting.”

“Then rest, (y/n). It’s ok if the only person you save some days is yourself.”

He was right, of course. You wanted to keep saving others, but you couldn’t do that if you didn't make time to save yourself too. You finally closed your eyes and pulled his cardigan up to your chin. Though you were still conscious, limiting your sensory input helped calm you down enough that you found yourself flitting in and out of dissociation. Even when Spencer’s hand gently moved out from under yours to answer his phone, you kept your eyes closed.

“Hey JJ,” his voice was quiet, barely audible over the rain pounding against the windshield, “they’re doing ok.” He paused while he listened to JJ’s response. “No, they keep reminding me that it’s not the first time they’ve been shot. I’m worried about them though.” He trailed off.

“They’ve been shouldering this burden of over 185,000 cold cases since we started working on this one, and now that it’s solved they’re finally feeling the weight of it. I don’t want them to drive themselves crazy trying to solve all of them on their own. We deal with enough active cases as it is.”

Though you were barely in a state of mind to process his words, he had hit the nail right on the head.

“How is the case you’re working on?” You presumed JJ was filling him in on what they knew, “have Garcia look into large purchases of triacetone triperoxide… Call me if anything changes. We should be back by morning.”

“Yes,” his change in tone indicated that JJ had asked him a question, “that would be great, JJ. Thank you so much.”

He must have hung up with JJ because his hand found yours again, fingers just barely touching. It was a simple action, loaded with a lot of meaning. Spencer was your best friend, and would always be your best friend. Bullets, cold cases, marriages, there was nothing that could break the bond you had with him.

You didn’t understand why people called their significant others their “better half”. It insinuated that you weren’t a whole person to begin with, a fractured existence that only found completion by the means of someone else. The idea that your life couldn’t be fulfilling until someone else made it whole was a concept that was set up for failure and self-loathing.

Instead, you believed that you were a whole person who could live a fulfilling life without the necessity of another. Instead, you surrounded yourself with people who lifted you up and helped you achieve your goals without being the direct cause of your success. Instead, you followed your dreams and somehow found Spencer Reid along the way.

Spencer was your best friend, your confidant, the one person who you knew you couldn’t live without, but he was not your other half. He was his own whole person, a mirror image of your own being. You found solace in his companionship, safety in the complexities of his brain. When the stress of your job got to be too much, you could reliably turn to each other and exist in the little slice of the world you called yours for a moment.

No, he was not your other half. He wasn’t even yours, for that matter, but he was there. He was there in a capacity that nobody else could achieve.

This is part of my GALAXY universe! If you liked this relationship, check out the MASTERLIST for more content!

Galaxy Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights @niallthedancingharry @shadyladyperfection  @thatsonezesty13  @lexshead @ceeellewrites @howdycharlie @girlycakepops @fantastic-fans @canimarrypizzaornah @daisyflower138 @dyingrexx @taylormobley @bazzleslynn @tj-drinks-tea @willa-wonky @eddiesbifocals @tee-mbrown @reniescarlett @bone-hurty-bitch @messyacademia

[pepper-up-potion]

Well done on 100 followers!! <333 🤎- word: tree (i’m sorry that’s really random but i think it could be cute lmao) character: oliver wood x

Our Tree (Oliver Wood x gn!reader)

Summary: Years pass but their love and their tree never goes away. (Sorry for the bad summary)

Warnings: marriage proposal, muggle au, childhood friends to lovers, possibly bad writing (I did not proof read this sorry)

A/n: Not sure how I feel about it but you were right, I created something pretty big with the simple word, tree. I think this could’ve been better if I put more time into it but I don’t want to spend too much time on it. Some of it feels a little rushed but I didn’t want to write something too long.

Word count: 1159

Join the celebration

*** age 10 ***

“What are you doing in my tree?!” Shouts a boy below you. You push back a branch to spot a little brown haired boy with his hands firmly planted on his hips.

“What do you mean your tree? It’s my tree.” You shout back.

“We’ll I don’t see your name on it.” He huffs.

You look up and down the tree. “I don’t see yours either.” You counter.

“Oh yeah? Watch this.” The boy suddenly starts to climb the tree. In five moves he’s sitting on the same branch as you. You scan the stranger next to you. His eyes are determined, competitive but there’s still something warm brewing in those brown eyes. The boy appears to be doing the same, scanning every detail of your face.

He suddenly smiles a little. “Follow me.” He says with a much sweeter tone than earlier. He turns away from you and starts climbing up the tree. He sits down again one branch higher. You follow suit, sitting next to the stranger.

He points to the branch bark. You look down to find the name Oliver scratch into it.

“What’s that you were saying about me not having my name on it?” He lifts a brow, looking very satisfied with himself.

Your face falls looking a little disappointed. “I guess it is your tree.” You frown. For years now you this tree has been your safe haven. There was no place you loved more than the curve in the forth branch. You worry that this is the end, that you’ll have to give up your tree.

“It’s okay, we can share.” He shoves his hand in his pocket, holding onto the branch above for stability. He takes out a penny and hands it to you. He scooches down the branch so the name Oliver is between the two of you. “Add your name under mine. That way it’s our tree.”

Your eyes go wide and a wide smile pulls your cheeks. You carve your name into the branch in silence.

“(Y/n).” Says Oliver, more to himself than to you. It’s like he’s trying it out for the first time.

*** age 15 ***

“(Y/n)? Are you up there?” Shouts a familiar voice.

“Oliver!” Your voice is bright and cheerful. You shove your book in your bag and wait for him to join you.

“Hey, how are you?” He asks, settling next to you.

“I think I’m ready to start dating people.” You have a thoughtful look on your face, like it’s an idea that’s still roaming in your head.

“Well I’d date you.” He says simply as if that’s not music to your ears. As if it’s not the thing you daydream of.

“I’d like that.” You try to hide your excitement, wanting to appear cool.

“What? Y-you want us to date?” A knot forms in your stomach as you start to overthink what just happened. Was he just saying that to reassure you? Did he not mean it? You take a shaky breath looking at Oliver who’s mouth is hanging open.

“I- I like you Oliver.” You confess after seeing no way out of the situation.

Oliver smiles wide and chuckles a little. “I can’t believe this is happening. I like you too!”

*** age 17 ***

Your phone pings on your night table. You read Oliver’s text on the screen.

I got my letter! Meet me at the tree in 5 min.

You grab your unopened university acceptance letter and run to the tree. You jump up and down unable to contain your excitement as you wait for Oliver. You both share the same dream to go to the same college. You agreed to look at your letters at the same time. You received yours two days ago so you had to wait for Oliver to get his in the mail.

“Oliver!” You exclaim when you spot him, running to jump into his arms. He gives you a short kiss before waving his letter in the air.

“Okay remember, no matter what happens, it’s you and me until the end.” Oliver explains seriously. You nod quickly, getting impatient.

“One, two, three.” The two of you simultaneously rip the envelopes open and pull out the letter.

There’s a moment of silence as you each read your letters. Oliver runs a hand through his hair and you clasp your hand over your mouth.

“And?” Pushes Oliver.

“What about you?” So ask instead of answering him.

“Say it on three?” He offers, taking your hand. You nod once more.

“One, two, three.”

“I got in!” You both shout at the same time. The rest is a blur. It’s happy screams, jumping, hugging, kissing, laughing, crying.

*** Age 28 ***

“Last chance to go pee.” You tell Oliver with your hand on the front door doorknob.

Oliver shakes his head and places a hand on the small of your back to guide you out the door. “I’m good. Let’s go” Is all he says.

You climb into the car and Oliver starts driving to your hometown for the weekend. You’re due for a visit, it’s been a while since you’ve seen Oliver or your family. The drive is pleasant. You listen to music, and audiobook and talk. Finally at your destination you unpack the car and settle in Oliver’s family’s guest room.

The next morning you wake up alone in bed. A first in the six years that you and Oliver have been living together. You check your phone to find no messages from him. Slightly worried, you quickly get dressed and run downstairs.

“He’s at the tree, my dear.” Says his mom propped against the kitchen door frame. She offers you a reassuring smile and hands you a jacket.

“Thanks.” You answer hurriedly, taking the coat and walking out the door.

You run to the tree to find it filled with strings of lights. Oliver is waiting for you, pacing back and forth.

“Oliver?” You rush to him. “Is everything okay?” There is evident concern in your voice. Oliver’s eyes widen as he quickly take your hands in his.

“(Y/n).” His voice is soft but there’s a hint of nerves in them. He takes a deep breath. “We have shared this tree for eighteen years. We have shared a home for six years. What do you say we share the rest of our lives? (Y/n), my love, will you marry me?” Oliver kneels and pulls out a ring. You instantly recognize it as his grandmother’s ring that his mother showed you when you were helping her pick the perfect necklace for her dress last Christmas.

Tears of joy run down your face. “Yes!” Oliver stands, happy tears welling in his eyes. “Yes, yes, yes!” You add, at a loss for words. Oliver chuckles, pure delight in his eyes. He slides the ring onto your finger before cupping your cheek and connecting your lips.