#so this time i started from s2 right away

[inawickedlittletown]

Just Let Me Adore You (BuckTommy) - 1/4

Summary: What if…instead of Chimney taking the role of interim Captain of the 118, Tommy is asked to take on the role.

Or, what happens when Buck meets Tommy in S2

Words: 3.6k

Notes: Title from Adore You by Harry Styles

Read on Ao3

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Part One

-

“Tommy! Hey, man, what are you doing here?” Chim called out. 

Buck followed his line of sight. He didn’t know the man standing up on the loft, hands resting on the railing, already in uniform. He also didn’t understand why Bobby was coming up behind him still in jeans and a button down. Neither of them said a word, but the guy — Tommy — offered them a nod. 

“Hey, who is that?” Buck asked as he and Chim made it into the locker room. 

“Tommy? He used to work here, transferred to the 217 a few years ago right before you started. Come to think of it, I guess you replaced him,” Chim said. 

“And now he’s back?” 

Chim shrugged his shoulders and Buck settled for getting out of his street clothes and into his uniform quickly. Eddie ran in looking confused too. After the week they’d had they had all been looking forward to things going back to normal. No heists, no police raiding their homes, and no more questions from detectives. 

They made it up just in time to join Hen and a few of the others. Bobby had them gather around the table with Tommy standing somewhere behind him. It seemed it was more than just Chim that knew him going by the fist bumps and high fives and nods and smiles exchanged. Buck couldn’t keep his eyes from straying towards Tommy because there was something so absolutely captivating and Buck couldn’t put his finger on it other than to acknowledge that yes Tommy was one of the most beautiful men that Buck had ever seen. 

And then, Bobby told them he was being investigated. He was suspended pending the investigation and Tommy Kinard was taking over as Captain for the time being. Bobby seemed resigned more than anything and behind him Tommy just stood silently as they all tried to argue that Bobby shouldn’t be investigated for something he’d more than atoned for. Buck was the one that walked Bobby out to his car. 

“It’s okay, Buck,” Bobby said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if this is the way it goes this is the way it goes.” 

“Is there anything I can do? Anything any of us can do?” 

Bobby smiled at him. He pat his shoulder. “Not at the moment. Just gotta wait and see.” 

“How are you this calm?” 

“I always knew it was a possibility. You should get back in there. New Captain and all.” 

Buck grabbed Bobby’s arm. “Wait, who is that guy?” 

“Tommy? He’s good people. It was going to be Chim, but Tommy was available and the Chief decided Tommy could do it. Not permanently—”

“Because you’ll be back in no time,” Buck said. 

Bobby rolled his eyes. “We don’t know that. For now he’s your Captain, don’t make things any harder than they need to be.” 

“Sure. Sure.” 

“I mean it, Buck.” 

He headed back in and found Chim, Hen, Eddie, and their new interim Captain in the kitchen. 

His eyes found Tommy and it was hard to look away, especially when he was smiling. His teeth were just so white and the skin on the edges of his eyes crinkled. His jaw was defined, sharp as can be and his chin had a cleft. He was captivating. 

“Buck, come over here and meet Tommy,” Chim called out, motioning for him. “Tommy, this is Buck.” 

“Buckley,” Tommy said. “Your name isn’t Buck Buckley is it?” 

There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. Buck was struck by Tommy’s gaze. His eyes were blue and piercing, it was as if he were looking right through Buck to his very soul. 

“Uh, Evan,” Buck said. 

“Evan,” Tommy said and he said it like it was important, like Buck was important.

—

Tommy wasn’t happy about the placement. It felt like a punishment, especially for someone like him. Of course, it was better than the alternative. He was grounded. No flying for him. Captain Reid had given him a choice and as dumb as the whole situation was, he supposed that being at the 118 as acting Captain was better than having to sit out on air support calls at the 217 and watching everyone else get to climb into the helicopters and go up leaving him to respond with the ground crew. He’d see the judgment from some and the pity from others. So, no thank you. 

Of course, going back to the 118 meant that he’d be facing his past and that…well, that could go wrong if Tommy let it. 

The timing had just happened to work out and though Tommy wasn’t privy to why Captain Nash was getting investigated, he just knew that it would blow over. There was no way they had anything on him that would lose the man his job. The short time that Tommy had worked with him, he’d been impressed and if it hadn’t been for the opportunity to get back in the air, he would have stuck around. Maybe he would have even managed to tell them all the truth. Or maybe, he never would have built up the nerve. 

The moment he stepped into the 118 again it felt like going back in time. His bag was slung over his shoulder as he walked past the trucks and he found Captain Nash regarding the trucks. He looked mostly resigned. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Tommy said. “Can I ask what happened?” 

“I wanted to tell them myself. It’s my past catching up with me. I always knew it could be a possibility,” Bobby said. “I’m sure you heard about the bank heist we almost got framed for?” 

Tommy chuckled, bemused. “What? No. I didn’t.”

He’d been a little too busy dealing with his own shit to pay attention to something like that. 

Bobby chuckled in response. “It was a long week,” he said.

“The Chief didn’t say much,” Tommy said. 

“Well, we had a call to a bank and afterwards money and diamonds were missing. Someone put the cash on the truck, so they looked into all of us pretty deeply. They found stuff about my transfer and here we are.” 

“I’m sure this will all get cleared up,” Tommy said. “There have been worse people that managed to keep their jobs in the LAFD.” 

He could tell that Bobby wasn’t convinced as he walked past him to the familiar locker room. Tommy had loved this place once, had thought that he’d found where he belonged. Of course, it had also meant compromising who he really was. He’d been so deep in that closet, but it was entirely about self-preservation. Leaving the 118 as much as it had been about flying, had been about being ready to embrace who he was. It had been about telling the truth. 

Returning to the 118 felt like falling backwards. Back into the lies. Back into the closet. Back into the mindset that he had to build up a wall to keep himself safe. Except that…he could choose differently. He didn’t need to lie. He was the Captain, they didn’t need to know anything about his personal life. If they asked, Tommy wouldn’t lie. He wasn’t going backwards. 

He met back up with Bobby at the loft. It still looked the same as when he’d left. 

“Circumstances aside, how do you feel about being back here?” Bobby asked. “I know this wasn’t your first choice.” 

“It was my only choice,” Tommy said. “I’m excited to work with Chimney and Hen again. Timing worked out, I guess. Who would they have gotten the position otherwise?” 

“Chim,” Bobby said. “But once the Chief mentioned you might be up for it, I figured that worked just as well. You know this house and you know the job.” 

Tommy ducked his head. “And I’m rooting for you to be back as soon as possible,” Tommy added. 

“There’s that, too.” 

“Chim would have made a good Captain,” Tommy said. 

“Yes. I just don’t think he would have liked it.” 

He could tell that Bobby hadn’t been told why Tommy was available, and Tommy didn’t offer the information. He wondered if Bobby would be alright with him taking his spot if he knew? Somehow, he did think that Bobby would be on his side. Hell, even Captain Reid was on his side even if his hands were tied. He thought that Bobby was about to ask, but Bobby was too professional to ask even if he did look curious. 

Bobby took him through a few things back in his office — the office Tommy would be taking over. He was warned about the paperwork, but Tommy already did more than his share of paperwork back at the 217. 

It had never been a goal of his to make it to Captain. He wondered if giving Sal a call as the acting Captain of the 118 might be warranted. He’d wanted it so badly back then and now it was Tommy in the position even if temporary. Sal might get a laugh out of that. He could send Gerrard a postcard too with just two words on it “Fuck-You”. Tommy never said he couldn’t be petty. All things considered, it was nice to think of doing things like that, but Tommy wouldn’t. He and Sal had lost touch a while back a little bit on purpose and Tommy hoped to never have to see Gerrard ever again. 

By the time that they heard the A-shift getting in, Tommy was as prepared as could be. He wouldn’t live up to what Bobby was as a Captain, but he would try his best and rely on having good people working under him. If nothing else, Tommy had time and experience on his hands and he was a damn good firefighter. A pilot too. 

What Tommy was not expecting was the gorgeous man walking in with Howie. So maybe, it’d be a little more complicated than he’d expected. 

-

So maybe he checked out a guy every once in a while. Buck was appreciative of the human form and sometimes those forms were male. It was normal. Completely and absolutely normal and everyone did that right? He had never really thought about it, but could easily admit to himself that Tommy Kinard was a beautiful man. 

Throughout that first shift with Captain Kinard in command, Buck might have let his eyes linger on the man more than should be normal, he just couldn’t help himself. It didn’t help that Tommy was competent too. No one could ever replace Bobby, but he could admit that Tommy knew what he was doing. Within a few calls, he seemed to know who worked well together and who did what best. He was creative, too, and open to suggestions. 

The one weird thing was that Tommy insisted on calling him Evan. Not in a condescending way or anything, but just because that’s the name that he felt like using. Stranger still was how much Buck liked it, it was why he didn’t correct him, not even when Chim made a face at him.

“Evan, get the jaws,” Tommy ordered. “Hen, how’s it looking in there?” 

The car accident wasn’t major, luckily. The girl inside couldn’t have been more than seventeen and she’d been panicking ever since the shock wore off. 

Buck returned with the jaws just in time to see Tommy lean to speak to the girl from the passenger side. His voice was calm and reassuring. It was so smooth and was it bad that Buck wanted to just listen to him speak forever? Could he narrate every book that Buck wanted to read? Or start a podcast? 

“Buck, what’s the hold up?” Hen asked. 

He blinked and rushed forward. “Sorry.” 

He thought he saw Tommy quirk an eyebrow. 

With help from Eddie, he got the door open and removed. Hen did a more thorough check up and Tommy stayed nearby. The girl seemed awed by him and Buck didn’t blame her one bit. 

A couple rushed towards them, escorted by Athena. 

“Amelia!” the woman shouted.

“Parents,” Athena said. Before any of them could move, Tommy got to them. 

“Your daughter is fine,” Tommy told them. “Just give my paramedic time to check her over. We don’t even think she’ll need to go to the hospital.”

On their way back to the station, they started discussing their dinner options. Buck was sure that if a few of them — not Eddie — got into the kitchen they could come up with enough edible food. Nothing on par with Bobby’s cooking but edible, Buck had picked up enough over the years. Tommy didn’t seem to trust that. 

��Maybe we’ll attempt that another day,” Tommy said to Evan.  

“Pizza it is,” Chim said. “You know, Cap is the one usually doing the cooking. You don’t want to give it whirl, Tommy?” 

Tommy laughed. Hen joined in. 

“If you want to get food poisoning.” 

“You can’t cook?” Buck asked. “Can’t be worse than Eddie.” 

“Hey, I can microwave stuff,” Eddie said. 

They all burst into laughter. 

When they got back to the station, Buck somehow found himself on his own with Tommy. Chim had been tasked with ordering the food and Hen had gone with him to make sure he got it right. Eddie was already on the phone with Shannon which was the norm for him since they’d reconnected. Buck thought that Eddie was looking a lot happier, as complicated as it all seemed to be. 

“How do you think I’m doing on my first day?” 

“Uh…you want my opinion?” Buck asked. “I’m…I mean you’re doing good. You cl-clearly know what you’re doing.” 

Tommy stared at him and then gave a nod. “Thanks, Evan.” 

Buck didn’t want him to walk away. He still knew very little about Tommy. Just that he’d transferred out of the 118 right before Buck arrived as a probie and now he was back to his old house. He’d also been a firefighter longer than any of them, going by how he’d talked about Chim’s first day as a probie. 

“Hey, so how come you left the 118?” Buck asked. 

“It was time. And I wanted to get back in the air,” Tommy said. 

Buck lost a step, but caught up to Tommy’s strides. “Wait, the air? So you’re air support? Like planes? Or helicopters?” 

“Both. But mostly helicopters,” Tommy confirmed. 

It only made Tommy that much hotter. And wait…since when did Buck think that men were hot? Maybe not like in general, but Tommy was…if you had eyes there was no way to miss that he was hot. 

“You were the one Chim called that time at that fire. Saved Eddie’s life…well, Eddie and the kid he was rescuing.” 

“Yeah,” Tommy said with a chuckle. 

“That’s really cool. So why — why give that up to come and boss us around?” 

At that, Tommy lost the smile. The crinkles around his eyes went away, replaced by frown lines on his forehead. 

“I should go fill out some reports,” Tommy said and walked away. 

“Touchy subject, I guess,” Buck said and watched as Tommy walked away from him, unable to tear his eyes from his back and yes, maybe checking him out just a little. Was it his fault that Tommy’s ass filled out his uniform really well? 

—

They really were a family. It wasn’t shocking to him, but it still left him feeling more than a little jealous because this is the thing that Tommy had always wanted. He’d thought he would find it in the Army and then he thought he would find that as a firefighter, and then his expectations had been lower when he transferred to Harbor and as much as he liked it there, it wasn’t a family. They were co-workers and some were friendlier than others, but it was nothing like whatever was happening at the 118. 

He watched them banter throughout the day, and as welcoming as they were, he didn’t quite fit. They had inside jokes and a way of communicating that made their work quick and efficient. Tommy wasn’t supposed to be their friend, that kept him outside of it too. He didn’t know how Bobby had managed to balance it all. 

“Tommy, you joining us?” Hen asked. “You know we all eat together around here.” 

Tommy let out a breath. “I’ll be right there.” 

“How are you holding up?” Hen asked, always perceptive. “Being the Captain?” 

“I have a good team. It’s not too bad,” Tommy said. “Different, I guess. I haven’t been on this many ground calls in a while.” 

She asked him about Harbor and as long as Tommy didn’t have to talk about the events of a week ago, he could discuss it. He could see Evan and Eddie listening in, but other than Chim, no one chimed in. 

After dinner they had a call out to an attempted suicide. He stood back and watched as Hen and Chim worked to get the guy out of the car he’d landed on after jumping off a building. His gaze then found Evan. 

Evan who was helping with the gurney and talking to the owner of the car. Evan who was capable and well meaning and who had been his replacement when he transferred. It would have been easier if Evan was less interesting and less adorable. He was straight, though, and there had been mention of a girlfriend. Tommy had crushed on enough straight guys to know how it went, but there was just something about Evan. Maybe it was the happy-go-lucky attitude, or how confident he was out on calls. Or maybe it was just how good he looked while wearing turnouts. 

By the time their shift ended, Tommy had been cajoled into joining them out for a drink. Eddie turned them down because he had a date with his wife. He almost expected Evan to excuse himself too in favor of spending time with his girlfriend, but instead he was happy to have an excuse not to go home. 

“You don’t have a home,” Chim said. 

Tommy looked between them. 

“Just because I’m staying with Maddie, doesn’t mean I don’t have a home,” Evan threw back. Turning to Tommy, he said, “I’ve started searching for my own place. It’s just hard.” 

Hen didn’t comment, but she shook her head and pat Evan’s arm. Tommy found all of it curious. 

At the bar, Tommy found himself in the booth with Evan to his left and as the night went on he felt like Evan had gotten closer and closer to him. He didn’t mind, liked the line of his warmth, and liked how every time Evan moved, he brushed up against him. It was dangerous, though, and Tommy couldn’t let this infatuation grow. 

“So, Tommy, you seeing anyone?” Hen asked. 

Tommy shook his head. “Not at the moment,” he said and this was his moment. It was presented to him perfectly. He just needed to say it. 

It was the time to tell them he dated men and that to be entirely clear they were first dates or hookups because Tommy was not luckily enough to find someone that wanted something deeper with him. Everytime he tried…well, Tommy just wasn’t lucky enough to find someone that fit. 

On apps they were all interested because of what he looked like and then he took the time to set up a date and then he was disappointed because those guys wanted to sleep with him and weren’t actually interested in getting to know him. Half the time they didn’t even want to go on a date as much as meet up for a romp in the sheets. The same thing happened at bars. He’d be approached, sure, but nothing ever actually went anywhere. Tommy was actually getting sick of trying. 

“Really?” Evan said. “But you’re so…I mean, who wouldn’t want to date you.” 

And then, Evan reached over and felt up his arm. His fingers lingered and Tommy glanced down at Evan’s hand and then back at Evan. Evan went pink and he dropped his hand to his lap as if he’d had no control over his hand. He coughed. 

“Sorry.” 

“That’s precisely why,” Tommy said. “Seems all anyone sees is the muscles.” 

“Their loss,” Evan said, staring at him. “You are definitely more than just brawn.” 

When he met Hen’s eyes, she looked like she was squinting at him. Tommy decided it was time he get their next round. He was surprised when Evan bumped his shoulder a moment later. 

“Wanted to help you carry,” Evan said, but he looked like it was actually more than that. 

“What is it, Evan?” 

Evan shifted on his feet. “I just…I wanted to say that I get it. Not, uh, not being seen for more than one aspect of who you are. I only met you today and I’m…I mean, you’re impressive.” 

“Impressive, huh?” Tommy asked, looking at him, askance. 

Evan was…was he blushing? Because the pink on his cheeks was definitely more than a result of the beers he’d drunk. 

“You fly helicopters,” Evan responded and seemed on the verge of listing other things, except the bartender arrived with the four beers he’d asked for. 

Tommy could have carried them on his own, but he let Evan grab two of them. When they got back in the booth, he tried to keep some space between them, but it didn’t matter for long. 

“Buck, you haven’t talked about Ali lately,” Hen said and it felt pointed even if Hen wasn’t looking at him. 

Evan leaned back. “She’s in Seattle for a few days,” he informed them. “Not much to say when I haven’t seen her in a while.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

Looking at Evan, Tommy couldn’t tell if that bothered him or not. He did see Hen and Chim share a look that Evan missed. Was there a story there? If there was, no one was willing to tell him.

[aenslem]

Jaime Murray as Stahma Tarr DEFIANCE (2013–2015)

[scriptmyworld]

you have a man who you heavily imply in the first season, and explicitly say in the next, is abusive, manipulative, and evil. and you have the woman who’s been buried under her family’s legacy her whole life, who you show us has come from a cold, unforgiving, unaccepting home. a woman who’s never been able to make a choice for herself in her life. who’s entire emotional arc was about reconnecting with her sisters. who is brave, who is loyal, and who is way more giving than she would let anyone know.

and you pair them together???? like some sick twisted love story???? you make her his obedient servant?????

lilith’s arc this season makes so little sense to me and it makes her look stupid. there was literally no reason to untether her from her family like this. you could’ve even had her learn more and then dip!! actually make a decision for herself!!! but instead she’s once again at the whim of another power and you’re framing it like it’s her freedom. this plot genuinely made me ill.

[cerealbishh]

"You get to see her understanding of how things really are. And so that becomes much more present on the surface. (...) In this season, we get to see her fall deeper in love with him but also navigate those challenges. And also becoming an anchor for Rhett but also struggling with his decision, 'Is this what I want for my future as well, as much as I love this man?'." - Isa in an interview with The Knockturnal(x)

[halfwayhearted]

spencer reid fic where reader just adores spencers glasses and they kiss and she like pushes his glasses up cuz they like slipped down his nose and its like ughdjskskkxksksdm YKWIM. (s2.)

Free Treasure — Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You love his glasses. Maybe even more than him. Though, he doesn’t seem to find it odd at all.

Word Count: 460+

Disclaimer/s — Fluff, again. I LOVED THIS REQUEST.

A/N: This makes me sick. Reader finding out he wears glasses is a flashback, the ‘…’ means #flashbackover! When it starts I think is self-explanatory, but let me know…

You were convinced nothing was better than this.

It was one of those perfect days where you and your boyfriend could savor every moment with one another, from morning to night. After you insisted that he deserved at least one day off to relax, he finally relented and agreed.

So, there you both were, nestled on the couch. Your hands were tangled in his hair while his gently cupped your face. Your lips met in a kiss that was tender and so, so incredibly soft. You melted the very moment you saw him lean in.

Pulling back to catch your breath, your gaze scans over his face. A smile graces your lips at the sight of his glasses.

The first time he wore them, you were caught by surprise, to say the least. Your expression had dropped, and he noticed right away, furrowing his eyebrows and asking, “What? Are you okay?”

“Glasses,” you mumbled, “You have glasses?”

His face reddened and he nodded, “Oh, yeah. Do you… do you not like them?”

Walking toward him, you lift your hands to his jaw, tilting his head to examine him and his frames from every angle. “You look so cute!”

“Cute?” The man replied, his voice raising an octave. “Why ‘cute’?”

“Because,” you hummed, offering no further explanation as you continued to gaze at him with a smile that he had come to love, knowing it was a special expression reserved solely for him.

He realized that being called 'cute' by you no longer mattered to him.

…

You snapped out of your daze when he whispered your name, making you hum in response. “Are you okay?” He questioned, “You’re distracted.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love when you wear your glasses? You should wear them more often. Why don’t you wear them more often?”

Spencer shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know, I don’t actually have to wear them. I prefer my contacts. They’re less annoying to put up with.”

“Right, right,” you drawled. His eyebrows pinched together, as if trying to decipher your tone.

“You’re doing it again.”

With a small laugh, you thread your fingers through his hair once more prior to speaking, “Doing what, Spencer? Looking at you?”

“Well—I… yeah.”

Your eyes linger on his, drifting down to his lips before finally resting on his glasses, which have slipped down the bridge of his nose. With a tender touch, you push them back up. Just as he starts to speak, you silence him with a soft, lingering kiss, cutting him and his words off.

It doesn’t stop him from returning it, though.

Perhaps he will wear his glasses more often.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[uzurakis]

hi :D can you do jjk boys doing like a tiktok prank and telling reader to shut up but they've a really bad day and either get mad/really sad? angst with or w/o comfort plz

CAN YOU SHUT UP FOR A SEC?!

featuring: gojo satoru. fushiguro megumi. itadori yuuji. geto suguru.

n. some comfort and some w/o comfort lol. thanks for the req babes, not breaking my angst writing stride. if you could understand why i wrote gojo like that, then you paid attention to s2. enjoy </3

GOJO SATORU. you dropped your bag by the door and took a deep breath, hoping to find some comfort in his presence; finding your boyfriend lounging on the couch, his eyes glued to the tv screen.

“satoru,” you said, voice tinged with fatigue. “i had a really bad day today. the higher ups are a fucking pain—“

“shut up, babe, i’m watching tv. see?” without looking away from the tv, gojo cut off your words.

you froze, the sting of his words hitting you harder than you expected. you stared at him in disbelief, feeling a mix of hurt and anger rising within you. “wow. thanks for that. really needed it today,” you said laced with passive aggression.

gojo finally turned his head to look at you, but it was too late. you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you didn’t want him to see you cry. you pivoted and exited the living room, displacing him in the process.

as you retreated to the bedroom, you could hear the faint sound of the tv continuing in the background. the reality of the situation settled in, and you felt the tears spill over, silently streaming down your face. you sank onto the bed, burying your face in your hands.

moments later, the sound of the tv stopped, and you heard footsteps approaching the bedroom door. it opened slowly, and gojo stepped inside, looking all confused and a tad concerned. “babe,” he said softly, “seriously, what’s going on?”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. “can’t you see i’m busy? can you shut up for a sec?”

you froze, his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. your shoulders slumped further, and you felt a knot form in your stomach. “i don’t need this today. just leave me alone,” you muttered, turning on your heel and heading towards the door.

megumi’s head snapped up as he realized something was wrong. “wait, hold on,” he called out, but you didn’t stop. “hey, i was just joking. come on, talk to me.”

your pace quickened as you left the dorm room, but you remained silent. you needed to leave before you totally lost it because you could feel the tears starting to burn in your eyes. megumi's voice could be heard calling after you as you went down the corridor; growing more concerned with each attempt.

“please, wait!” he shouted, tone now filled with worry. “fuck, i didn’t mean it like that! it’s a tiktok prank, babe!”

you kept moving, the door closing behind you as you stepped outside into the crisp evening air. you leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. the last thing you needed was more pain on top of an already unbearable day.

ITADORI YUUJI. anger flared within you and your eyes widened. “why would you say that to me? what’s wrong with you?” you snapped, voice sharp as a knife.

yuuji’s gaze moved to look at you, and he immediately saw the pain in your eyes. his expression shifted from surprise to regret. “wait, wait, baby, i’m so sorry! it’s just a tiktok prank. i swear i didn’t mean it like that. please, forgive me.”

“a tiktok prank? do you think this is funny?”

he scrambled off the couch and came over to you, face earnest and pleading. “no, no, it’s not funny. i thought it would be harmless, but i can see now that it wasn’t the right time. i’m really sorry…”

“forgive me, please?”

you took a deep breath, trying to calm down. the sincerity in his voice and the worry in his eyes made it hard to stay mad at him. “yuuji, i’ve had a really bad day. the last thing i needed was for you to tell me to shut up.”

your boyfriend nodded vigorously, looking like a guilty puppy. “i know. i messed up big time. can we start over? we’ll order your favorite takeout and watch a movie? my treat!”

GETO SUGURU. your frustration, already simmering beneath the surface, boiled over. “excuse me? you don’t get to talk to me like that, geto suguru. especially not today!”

“whoa, hey, calm down. it was just a tiktok prank. i didn’t mean it seriously.”

“and you think that’s funny?”

the guy stood up, hands raised in a placating gesture, trying to approach you cautiously. “okay, okay, i get it. not funny. i’m sorry. how about we forget about it and i make it up to you?”

you could see the genuine concern in his eyes, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet. “you really don’t understand how bad my day has been, do you? and you choose today to pull something like this?”

suguru sighed, taking a step closer to you. “i do understand. i’m sorry i made it worse. i was just trying to be playful. let me make it up to you.” he dropped his voice to a softer, flirtatious tone, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “you know i can’t stand it when you’re upset with me.”

“you damn flirt,” you huffed, trying to maintain your anger, but the familiar charm in his voice made it difficult. “you can’t just flirt your way out of everything, geto suguru. i’m still mad.”

he stepped closer, gently taking your hands in his. “maybe not, but i can try. let me make it up to you tonight. we can do whatever you want. i’ll be on my best behavior, promise.”

@uzurakis

[erwinsvow]

𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

summary: you were a pogue, and now you're a kook. just like how once you were no one's, and now you're rafe cameron's.

author's note: here it is!!! imagine like s1 rafe with the s2 hair, and basically just having a former-pogue girlfriend through out the whole season. i just think rafe would actually be such a good boyf, he just needs someone to settle him down when he gets a lil crazy. follows the sequence of s1 until about 3/4ths down, where i just started making stuff up. you might read this & think no one would act like this.. and that's fine, i know they wouldn't, but this is a self indulgent story for rafe <3 part 2 of the other seasons maybe? enjoy!!

now spinning: black beauty by lana del rey (soooooo rafe coded! he just needs a hug and some pussy!)

word count: 13.5k

warnings/tags: wheeze is a toddler for no reason. reader isn't the biggest fan of the pogues at this point in time. smut: oral (f receiving), fingering, degregation, use of daddy, rafe calls reader kid because <3, lemme know if i forgot something!

“So that’s it? Really? Your mom is marrying a Kook and you’re moving across the island… just like that?” John B speaks to you as if you had any choice in the matter. You look at him sadly, but you’ve cried so much the last few days, it’s hard to find any more tears.  

You want to tell him, want to explain everything. The way your mom has been so lonely for years, ever since your dad passed away. The way she would pull double-shifts every week just to make sure you had the nice, trendy shoes and hot dinner every night. The way you grew up in the cut but it never felt any different than growing up in figure eight, because she took care of you.

And now it was your turn, to take care of her. Blake Richards was rich, and he wanted to take care of your mom, which meant for the first time in a long time, she would be the one being taken care of. And you owed that to her, you owed that much.

“I-I don’t really have a choice, John B. I mean, this is my mom. And she’s getting her chance to be happy. I can’t ruin it for her.”

“Yeah, I get all that but, like, does this mean you’re gonna go full-Kook on us? Because I think that would just be disturbing,” JJ says, and you crack a smile, even as you feel a tear spill down your cheek. 

“I don’t think I could ever go full-Kook.” It comes out quietly, a notch above a whisper.

“Hey, hey,” you hear John’s voice again, as he stands up to get closer to you. You feel embarrassed, the way your cheeks flush and heat up when he’s only a few inches away from you. He wipes the tear away with his thumb. “No crying, okay? Nothing has to change.”

The way he says it, you almost believe him.

“Right,” you say, still quiet. There’s a sob stuck behind your throat, and you don’t want the boys to know how upset you really are. You’ve stitched up these boys more times than you can count, set shoulders and bones and nursed bruises for them. “Nothing has to change,” you repeat, trying to convince yourself. Everything was about to change, starting with your relationship with them.

And that’s the one thing you wish could stay the same. Deep down, no matter how many times you were teased and laughed with, there was a part of you, buried away, that thought you would end up with one of these boys one day. Sweet John, funny JJ, smart Pope. Well, maybe not Pope. You’ve seen the way he stares at Kie, even when no one else notices.

But John and JJ, the possibility of being with one of them always lingered in the air. Even when they’re flirting with tourists or cracking so-called boy jokes that you just wouldn’t understand, you always thought they were your endgame.

If only you knew. 

Pope and Kiara drive up, just as you’re wiping away another tear. You’re dreading repeating everything to them, shedding more tears. 

౨ৎ

“Who is that?” Topper asks, eyeing some girl entering the club. Rafe was getting sick of Topper crying over every pretty girl he saw on the street when he was supposedly dating his sister. He hardly cared about Sarah, daddy’s favorite, but that was his family, and he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect to his family. 

“She must be fresh meat,” Kelce says, “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Tourist?” Topper questions. Rafe downs the rest of his drink. 

“Nah, man, see that guy ahead of her? That’s Blake Richards. My dad works with him, he’s a big finance guy. He’s a widower, but I guess not anymore.” 

“Step-daughter? Jesus,” Topper says. “It’s like a cheesy porno. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he married her mom to tap that, I mean-”

“Enough,” Rafe snaps. “Shouldn’t you be in a fight with my sister?” Topper blanches. 

“I mean, look at her Rafe. That is something special,” Kelce says, and then finally, Rafe lifts his head to look at you.

You look… confused. Your head is turning, taking in everything about the club, like you’d never been there before. A waiter comes up to your family with tall glasses of water, little pieces of cucumber and lemon floating around in them with ice cubes. Richards—your step-father—takes a glass and hands it to a woman who can only be your mother, with the same hair and complexion. Before he can take a glass to hand to you, you take it from the tray yourself, smiling and saying thank you. The waiter, some teenage Pogue, blushes at your affection.

When you start walking, continuing the tour, the waiter turns to look at you walk away, gawking like men do when they see something pretty. Rafe feels an overwhelming urge to punch the kid, and cover you up with his jacket. 

You’re not in anything too immodest, compared to what he’s seeing girls at the club walking around in, but it feels like it’s too much for the leering eyes that follow you. Your jean skirt comes down a little less than half-way to your thighs. Your shirt is white, with puffy sleeves and little buttons that tighten around the chest.

He sees a glimpse of cleavage, which makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, not in the way he’s used to when he sees a pretty girl. He wants to take his shirt off his back and slide it onto you, buttoning it up all the way and making sure no one else looks at you the way he’s looking at you right now.

“Rafe?” his friend calls, and he’s not sure which one. In your glancing, you turn towards Rafe and you lock eyes for a second. You must have noticed him staring. You probably think he’s crazy, but he doesn’t seem to care much at the moment. Your mother must have beckoned you, because you turn away in a second, walking towards the older couple, trailing behind them again.

“Be right back,” he says, leaving a confused Topper and Kelce behind him at the table. He cuts through the tables near the bar, entering the walkway where your family is already, but coming out of the other end. He gets there just in time to run into Richards, who’s leading the little group.

“Hi, Mr. Richards, right?” he says, holding his hand out. “Rafe Cameron.”

“Oh, Rafe, hi,” the older man replies, shaking his hand. Rafe grips hard, making sure Richards doesn’t think he has a wimpy handshake. Otherwise he’s never gonna agree to what Rafe has in mind. “I haven’t seen you in years, I mean you were half your height last time I was over at Tannyhill.”

“Crazy, right? Well I just wanted to say hi since I ran into you. How’s, uh Benny and Brax?” 

“I can’t believe you remember them, they haven’t been to Kildare in years. They’re good, yeah, Benny’s in California now, and Brax is out at law school, at Oxford.”

“Oh yeah, international law, right?”

“Yeah,” Richards says, smiling wide. “You’ve got quite a memory, son, I’ll have to tell Rafe when I see him.”

“Oh yeah, he’s around here somewhere.” Then, he makes his move. He turns his gaze to your mom first. He thinks about it briefly, but if he addresses you before her, your mom will be on guard. He knows how their minds work. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, I’m Rafe,” and he shakes your mom’s hand, but turns back to Richards for the introduction—something else in his little cheat-sheet of rules. Let dad do the talking, so he feels like he’s in control. 

“Rafe, this is my wife, Anna-”

“Nice to meet you, Rafe,” your mom smiles at him sweetly, and he smiles back. 

“-and my step-daughter.” You smile, and hold your hand out. He shakes your hand, gently, and looks at your face, because he can tell the smile is forced. He wonders why. 

“Nice to meet you.” he says, and you smile that forced way again.

“You too, Rafe.” You let go of his hand, and it’s good, because if he held on any longer, the adults would get suspicious.

“First time here?” he questions, still looking at you.

“Yes,” your mother answers, laughing, if not a little uncomfortably. “Is it that obvious?”

“Nah, it’s a lot to take in, I remember that much.” Richards smiles at him, almost beaming. He knows Rafe has been coming here since he could walk. That means the old man appreciates him trying to comfort his new family. Another step closer.

“It is,” Anna says, looking at her daughter. She has those worried eyes, the one Ward’s new wife won’t stop looking at him with. 

“Well, it’s the perfect place to be all summer. I mean, pretty much everyone our age is at the pool or the courts.” At his mention of the both of you, you look up from staring at your shoes quickly to looking right at him. He smiles. You don’t smile back. 

“Really?” Richards asks, still openly friendly.

“I mean yeah, Mister R, I remember Benny on the golf course, like, everyday. And Brax, I mean he practically taught half of us how to swim.” Richards nods and laughs, continuing small talk about his sons. Rafe sneaks another glance at you, and you look back knowingly, like you can smell his intentions from a mile away. 

“Honey?” your mom asks quietly. “Do you wanna go with Rafe?”

“What?” you reply quickly, surprised. You weren’t listening, and he tries hard not to laugh.

“Well, I can take you ‘round, introduce you to everyone. I’ll finish the tour if you and Mrs. Richards are heading up to the course?” He nods at the golf clothes your parents have on, that you are lacking. 

“I think that sounds great, right, honey?” Anna presses, and after you lock eyes with her, you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, sure,” you say quietly. Rafe smiles again.

“Great, great, yeah. Well, it was great to see you Mister R. Missus R.”

“Thank you, Rafe. Kiddo, you can ask for the car to go home when you’re ready, okay? Your mother and I are going to get dinner here.” Anna looks up confused, probably wondering how they’ll get back.

“I’ll call someone to bring the car back, honey,” he explains, and your mom smiles.

“I can also take her back,” Rafe interjects. “Tannyhill is the same direction, and I’m headed back anyways. If you wanna leave the car here.”

“Really, Rafe, that would be great, thank you.” You look even angrier than before, but the plastic smile spread over your face doesn’t faze them.

“Right, thanks, Blake. Bye mom,” you say, and then lean over to kiss her on the cheek.

You watch them walk away, chewing your cheek and turning back to Rafe with anger splashed all over your pretty features. 

“I can’t believe that worked on them,” you tell him quietly, smiling when your mom turns back to look at you before they turn the corner. Your parents were too gullible sometimes.

“Yeah, me either, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” you reply right away. “And despite what you think, I’m not touring this place with you. I’m probably never coming back here after today.” You start walking away, in the opposite direction of your parents, when he chases behind you.

“Y’know, I don’t get you. Every girl your age lounges around here all day, and everyone else wishes they could.”

“Well, you know what they say,” you start, smiling sweetly, though he sees through it again. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”

“Really?” he shrugs. “Never heard that before.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have.” 

“Come on, you’re not even giving me a chance. You don’t even know me.” You laugh at that.

“Yes, I do, Rafe, you just don’t recognize me.” You continue your brisk pace, looking for the exit and getting closer. He reaches out to grab your forearm, holding you back for a second. He guides you into the corner, between the hallway where there’s no one else around.

“Yeah, that so?” Rafe is almost caging you in. He’s so close you can smell his cologne and the scotch on his lips.

“I’m from Kildare, Rafe.” You try to break free of his grip, but it proves even harder than you thought. He holds you in place without even breaking a sweat.

“No, no, no, because I know every pretty girl in Kildare. And you’ve definitely never been here before, so-”

“Really? Even the ones from the cut?” You thought that would be enough to get him to drop your arm, but he doesn’t budge.

“Huh. So that’s why you’ve never been here. Old Man Richards married a Pogue and made her daughter into a Kook? Did I get that right?”

“I’m not a Kook,” you say, squirming, because you still don’t want to be trapped by him. His cologne smells good, your mind wanders and thinks, like ocean air and sandalwood. You snap out of it at once.

“Not yet, you’re not.” 

“I’m not going to be, either. A little money isn’t going to change anything for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid. That’s what everyone says, ‘til it does.”

“Rafe, let go of me, I said let go-” And he does let go, quickly, and your arm falls. Faint red marks appeared when he was holding on, what can only be a bruise tomorrow. He’s marked you, and you’re not half as angry as you would have thought. 

“Come on, kid, we’re finishing this tour. I promised,” he says, and the last bit is so mocking, you can’t believe mom and Blake fell for his act. 

He takes you around the entire club, shows you the restaurants, the spa, the pool. At least a handful of girls stare at the two of you walking side by side, but Rafe doesn’t look back at anyone. You don’t know how to feel about that.

The oldest Cameron isn’t a mystery to anyone in Kildare, but you don’t know anything about him besides what the boys have told you. JJ hates him, naturally, John doesn’t let you look at him in passing, and even Pope can find a few bad things to say. But right now, he’s not doing any of those things you would have expected once he found out you and your mom are from the other side of the island. The crude jokes and gold-digger comments are nowhere to be heard.

But you can’t write him off completely yet. After all, this is Rafe Cameron.

He finishes the tour on the golf course, so you can wave to your parents on the course. You’re sipping on a lemonade through a little pink straw, and he finds it hard to look away when your cheeks hollow to draw up the liquid. Your mom and Blake wave back, and you smile—genuinely—for maybe the third time that morning. 

“They’re good together,” Rafe comments, on the walk back to the front door, where his truck is waiting. 

“Do you really think that?” you ask quietly. You’re tired, he can tell, drained from trying so hard to make sure he knows you hate him. 

“Yeah, kid, I do. He’s been a widower basically my whole life. And he married your mom, so he must really love her.”

You can’t tell if he’s just saying it to get on your good side. You hope he’s not. Through all of this, all the crying and the suffering and how much you miss your old life and your friends, if your mom doesn’t at least end up happy, it’ll all have been for nothing. You feel more tears brewing.

“Thanks, Rafe,” you end up saying quietly, as you put on the seat belt in the passenger seat of his truck. His music plays softly in the background of the drive - rap, something you've heard before but can't place - back to Blake’s house. With your window down, you stare out of it and try to pay attention to the breeze in your hair rather than the entirely overwhelming scent of Rafe, which is all-consuming in his car.

Rafe turns to look at you every few minutes. You look perfectly in place in his car, leaning against the panel with your eyes closed. That means you trust him, even though every word you say makes him think otherwise.

Your eyes flutter open when he puts the car in park, outside the door to your house. 

“Home sweet home, kid,” you hear his voice in your ear, but he sounds closer than he should be. When you turn to look, he’s leaning over you and so close to you, you feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“What’re you doing?” you ask quickly, heartbeat picking up and rocketing off. 

“M’just getting the door for you, kid.” His arm flexes, only an inch or two away from your chest, pulling the handle and swinging open the door. He leans back into his seat, smirking. “Why, what'd ya think I was gonna do?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in and swallow uncomfortably. Your throat feels dry and your palms are suddenly clammy.

“Nothing.” 

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

You climb out of his car, shoes hitting the ground a little too hard. He strains his neck, trying to make sure you’re okay. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, not meeting his eyes, closing the door behind you. 

“Anytime, kid. I’ll be seeing you around.”

You thought he would take over the second the passenger-side door was shut, but he doesn’t. He stays and watches you fix your skirt that had ridden-up on the drive, and walk into the front door, glancing behind you, just for a second, before going inside. And then you hear the roar of the engine, only after the door was closed and you were safely inside.

౨ৎ

You didn’t take it literally, that you would be seeing him again. Rafe seems like the type to play with his toys and get bored before long, but true to his word, you see him days later. And to his luck, you were feeling even worse than the first time you met him.

The morning started like any other—showering in a bathroom that’s just yours, and no one else’s, and attached to your bedroom. You can hardly remember the years when your dad was alive, but after he passed, you and your mom moved into a tiny two-bed, one-bath with your mom’s best friend. You were there for the next five years, until she got married and moved out, and it was just the two of you. But even in all the years since, you’ve never had your own bathroom until now. 

You shower as long as you want, whenever you want. Your room is in a completely different hallway than the master, where Blake and your mom sleep. You blast music at night, singing along off-tune from the bathroom, and would stay on the phone for hours with your friends. If anyone answered your calls anymore. 

It’s been three weeks since you broke the news to everyone that you were moving. Two weeks since you actually moved. One week since Rafe walked you around the country club and drove you back home, like you belonged to him. In that time, you’ve driven down to the Chateau twice, walked by Kie’s house, which is now just a few blocks away, and texted multiple times—all with no responses. At first you panic, thinking something’s happened, but then you realize this was what always happened. When you’re off on an adventure, you don’t think about who’s waiting for you back at home.

That’s what’s running through your mind when you run into Rafe again that day.

You had showered without interruption, taking your time doing your hair up just because you felt like it. There was no work to be done, no chores assigned to you anymore. Breakfast was always prepared when you went downstairs, so you took your time getting ready now. 

You missed a lot of things about your old life, but the limited time and constant rushing and anxiety were not among them. 

Your clothes were picked out with the anticipation of seeing your best friends again, your favorite overalls from the thrift store—which had been bought when you were still two sizes too small for them, and had been baggy on you until last year, but they were such a steal your mother refused to let you put them back—and a yellow shirt to match your ratty, yellow converse. They had been washed so many times they were more brown than yellow, but it didn’t matter much. 

This outfit was the old you, and it brought up feelings inside you that nothing in figure eight could change. You wore it because you wouldn’t look any different to your friends in this outfit, and for maybe a few hours, you wouldn’t be the girl in the fancy house with the country club membership anymore.

“You look nice, sweetie,” your mom says, when you head downstairs. She’s drinking her coffee at the table, your step-dad nowhere to be found. It’s eleven in the morning and she’s just woken up too, in her robe and slippers, and you smile, watching her more relaxed than you’ve seen in years.

You swing by her side of the table to give her a kiss, and steal a piece of toast from her plate. You’re relieved she doesn’t mention your clothes, not when she keeps offering to take you shopping with Blake’s money, which you keep refusing, but is getting more tempting every time you step in a puddle in these shoes.

“Thanks mom, I’m going to see the boys and Kie, I’ll be back later, don’t wait up!” and with that you’re gone, before you can discern the disapproving look in her eyes. 

Your junky old car, older than you by several years and still somehow the nicest thing you own—used to own, a voice chirps in the back of your head—is hidden around several fancy cars in the driveway. It’s intentional, you’re sure, and likely your mother’s doing. Nothing embarrassed her more than you handing out constant reminders of your old life to everyone around you.

And then you’re on the way to the Chateau, windows down and no music, since there was no way to connect your phone and the radio was busted by Pope a year ago, who claims he was trying to fix it. 

But it’s what happens when you get there that embarasses you the most—no one’s there, and no one will answer your call. You wait around for a half hour, trying to see if they come back, but they don’t. 

And that’s when it hits you. They were off on their adventures, and you weren’t just down the street anymore, which meant you weren’t invited. You get back in your car and slam the door, humiliated, tears falling down your face and probably ruining the makeup you had done, stupidly, this morning, because you wanted to look nice for them, like your old self for them. You don’t realize until later, after you were done crying, and seen Rafe again, that your friends didn’t want to bother you while you were adjusting to your new life. 

You feel betrayed, and the words that John had told you rattle through your head, because he was wrong. Everything had changed, and nothing would be the same. 

You take off, heading back home. There’s a big storm brewing and your Accord gets dramatic in the rain. It’s not until you cross the border back into figure eight that you realize two things. One, that you had just thought of your new house as home for the first time. And two, that you had never felt more alone. 

There’s not much to do about either of these feelings, besides stopping for the biggest bowl of ice cream you can reasonably carry back home, and eating it in your room, crying and watching You’ve Got Mail for the hundredth time.

So that’s what you do, pulling into the ice cream shop closest to home. Your car also doesn’t have the greatest functioning air conditioner, and you don’t need any more questionable stains in your seats, considering how many times JJ had borrowed it and returned it, promising you it’s nothing and that that spot in the back seat was always there!

In line, tapping your foot, calling your mom’s cell. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is red from crying. She’s not answering, but the unspoken rule of your little family is to always, always call when you’re getting ice cream in case the other wants something. You’ve only been gone something like two hours, and you can’t imagine what she’s doing that she can’t answer your phone. You dial Blake’s number, hoping he answers instead, and while it’s ringing you realize it’s your turn to order. You haven’t even looked at the menu yet. 

You turn to the people behind you, telling them they can go in front, but when you look up from your phone, you almost drop it. 

Of course it’s Rafe Cameron behind you. Of course. Who else would it be? Who else would keep catching you at your lowest moments? He’s with a little girl, who can’t be older than four or five, with dark hair and glasses, holding his hand patiently while staring up at you, while you stare at him and he stares back.

“Rafe, she said we can go in front,” she says, tugging on the hand she’s holding. 

“Yeah, Wheeze, I heard. Let’s go order and then thank this nice girl for letting us go ahead, right?” The little girl nods, and follows him up to order. Rafe looks back at you but then your step-dad answers, so you turn away, cheeks heating up. You don’t want him to see.

“Hi, what’s going on?” you hear his voice through the phone, sort of staticky and jumbled. 

“Hi, Blake, I just wanted to ask if you and mom wanted ice cream? I’m at the place… yeah, the one near the house.”

“Oh, yes, let me ask her, one second-” You hear him put the phone down, or cover the mic, and then, “Honey! Kiddo’s asking if you want ice cream.” 

You feel yourself soften a little bit at the nickname. And then you hear your mom and Blake talking back and forth, for what feels like ages. The girl behind the counter looks at you with a glare and you try to look back at her with an apologetic smile, but you’re a little fed-up from the emotional turmoil you’ve just endured. 

“Hi, sweetie, I’m okay, I had some at the club with lunch and twice in a day is just not a good idea-”

“Just get it, who cares? We can have it later tonight too-”

“What if the power goes out? It’ll melt, and then it’s just a waste of money-” Crap. You hadn’t thought of that.

“We have generators for that.” Blake picks up the phone again. “Hey, kiddo, get your mom her usual and make sure you use the card I gave you, okay?”

You hang up the phone, smiling, and then order. It feels weird, being oddly comforted by someone other than your mom or your friends for once. In your distraction, you don’t see Rafe and the little girl hovering near the freezer window that showcases all the ice cream they offer. When you’re reaching for the shiny black Amex, you hear him again. 

“I got it, kid,” Rafe says, pressing his matching card against the reader and pushing your wrist down and away. He does it so easily, without trying, just like he did in the country club. You look up at him stupidly, brain not registering what he just did and why he did it, and you don’t move for a moment. You don’t move until he leans down a little, close enough to smell that enticing cologne again but not nearly close enough. 

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’. And you should probably get out of the way.” You blink back up at him, and he’s smirking again. You feel kind of stupid, the way he’s talking to you, but you also don’t mind as much as you thought you would. The girl behind the counter yells out Next! and that’s when Rafe takes you by the arm, just above where he had bruised you, and moves you away himself.

“You okay, kid?” he asks, and you feel yourself melt like ice cream left in your car for too long. You don’t know if he really means it, or if he really cares, but you do know Rafe Cameron needs to stop talking to you like he likes you, or you’re going to be in trouble.

“Fine, yeah. Thanks, uh, thanks for the ice cream.” You’re still blinking slowly, stupidly, stuck in a daze. You should really get it together around him. It’s a little pathetic if a strong grip and a couple of nice actions gets you acting like this. That’s a problem for another day right now.

“Is she okay, Rafe?” the little girl asks quietly from beside him. 

“No idea, Wheezie. Why don’t you sit and eat your ice cream?” he replies, and she sits down a few tables away, beginning to shovel chocolate ice cream with a tiny wooden spoon.

“Hey,” he says, and you begin to snap out of it. It’s raining outside now. You hear the pitter-patter of the drops on the roof. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes. I am. I just had a bad morning. Sorry.” But you don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

“Well, are you gonna talk about it and shit? ‘Cause I don’t know you that well yet but you’re kinda freaking me out right now.”

“I-I…I just-”

“You, you, you just?” he mocks, and then when tears fill your pretty eyes and he sees one slip down your face, his own eyes panic briefly. “Hey, hey, I was just joking, kid-” He pulls out a colorful chair for you, and sits you down next to Wheezie, who is still eating ice cream at an alarming rate. Your ice cream is ready at the counter, and he brings it down next to you, holding his own strawberry cone in his hand. 

“Hold this for me Wheeze,” he says, not really asking, and the little girl shakes her head right away.

“How’m I gonna eat mine then?” 

“Wheezie,” Rafe says, in a voice that you haven’t heard him use before—and then you realize how stupid you sound. You’ve talked with him twice, you don’t know anything about the voices he uses or how he sounds when he’s talking to this girl who can only be his little sister. 

“Can I have some?” Wheezie propositions back, and Rafe nods. “Okay!” she says, taking a bite of the scoop with her front teeth.

“So, y’gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to guess everything?” 

“My friends, I just keep missing them, or they keep missing me, maybe. I just wanted to see them. It’s really lonely here, that’s all.” You’re staring into his eyes, his really, really blue eyes that are currently a little alarmed and concerned, and the fact that they’re that way for you is making you a little dizzy. 

“Yeah, I get that. Sorry, kid, that’s the lay of the land, right? Not a Pogue anymore, are you?” 

“I don’t know what I am.” You feel silly and embarrassed for pouring your heart out over ice cream with Rafe Cameron. He doesn’t know you, and he never will.

“Well, right now you have a choice. You can sit here and eat ice cream with us, or you can go home and cry about it alone. But if you choose the second one, Richards and Anna will see you, or hear you, and ask about it. And I’m not gonna keep asking if you don’t wanna talk. So pick one before this shi-stuff melts, okay?” 

You nod dumbly again. You’d like to turn your brain off and let Rafe decide for you. 

“I need a spoon.” He smiles, not smirks, for a second, before getting up to get you a spoon.

A few things float through your mind while you eat ice cream with the Camerons. First, Rafe remembers your mom’s name. Second, Rafe doesn’t swear in front of his kid sister. And third, and most important of all, Rafe Cameron cares about you.

“That’s a lot of ice cream,” Wheeze, or rather—as you’ve just learned—Wheezie, comments.

“I was feeling really sad,” you reply, shoving another spoonful into your mouth, watching the little girl eye your peanut and chocolate ice cream inquisitively. “You’ll understand someday.”

“Boy problems?” she asks, and you can’t help but crack a smile. Rafe looks up from his phone momentarily 

“Not really, but a good guess. This would also apply to that situation.”

“My sister’s always got boy problems.”

“Really?” you ask, and then look up Rafe. “You have another sister?”

“Yes,” he says, in between licks of strawberry ice cream. You should really look away when he does that, because your heart rate is picking up. “And she’s even more annoying than this one.”

You laugh while Wheezie frowns.

“If I’m so annoying, why do you always take me for ice cream, huh?”

“She’s got you there, Rafe,” and you resist the urge to look at him, even when you can feel his eyes on you. 

“Because you wouldn’t stop asking, dork, that’s why.” Wheezie shrugs in reply.

“I’m not gonna finish all of this. You want some, Wheezie?” you ask, offering her your spoon. She looks back at you smiling, and then at Rafe for permission, who nods.

She digs into the pile left, while you finally give into the urge to look up at her brother again. He takes another lick of his ice cream and you look away within a second. 

“Been eating that for a while, haven’t you, Rafe?”

“Yeah.” 

Somewhere in between Wheezie eating so much of the ice cream so quickly that she gets a brain freeze, and Rafe finally tossing his half-eaten cone into the trash, it’s time to go home. And as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t want to leave. The rain is coming down hard outside, a preview of the impending hurricane.

“Drive here, kid?” he asks, as your feet hesitate by the door. 

“No,” Wheezie answers, “I came here with you, dork.”

“Not talking to you, kid,” he replies, rustling the top of her hair with his hand, getting an ugh, Rafe, in response.

“Yeah. Yes, I drove here. But my car doesn’t do so good in the rain.”

“Huh?” he questions.

“It’s old, okay. Junky. The AC is broken. And the radio. Sometimes she just stops, y’know?” You gesture to your blue car parked out front, the rusty, tiny sedan two spots down from his shiny truck.

“No, I don’t know. Richards lets you drive around in that thing?”

“She.”

“It’s a car. Barely, at that.”

“She has a name, okay. HoHo. That’s her name.”

“Alright, well, you’re gonna have to ditch the hoe, because I can’t let you drive home in a hurricane in… that.” You turn to glare at him. “Her, sorry.”

That’s how you end up soaking wet in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, Wheezie secured in her booster seat and Rafe even wetter than you are. He drops you home and says the two of you can go pick up your car tomorrow—if it’s still there, he adds at the end, leaning over you again to open your door. You stare at him dumbly again, which has now become a bad habit, and it’s not until Wheezie says you’re getting her wet in the back that you finally climb out and close the door. You stand behind the front door with your mom’s melted ice cream in one hand, and your phone with Rafe’s contact saved in the other, wondering what exactly just happened. 

౨ৎ

The next few weeks pass through as quickly as they came. Your car—to your chagrin and your mother’s joy—does not survive the hurricane. Blake gives you a fancy, luxury car to drive around in that he just had laying around, which you don’t believe for one second. But, your mom is pleased when you actually start driving it, and you can actually listen to music from your phone and enjoy air conditioning and the most luxurious of luxuries—a backup camera. 

The night of the ice cream shop incident, Rafe texts you. You were completely ready to wallow in bed, waiting for the text from him that never comes, drowning your sorrow in more ice cream, but he does text you. First and right away. 

R: Is it wrong if I hope hoho drowns tonight?

that’s so mean. she never did anything to you.

R: She’s kinda ugly. And what was that about no ac?

so she deserves death????

R: The impound lot at the very least

if she dies, it’ll be because YOU manifested it

R: Never thought I’d believe in that manifesting shit, but here we are

did Wheezie eat dinner after how much ice cream you let her inhale?

R: No.

R: Ur fault. You gave her yours

you gave her yours too

and btw, I offered her a bite. she ate the rest. not my fault

R: She’s five, genius

R: I’ll come around noon tomorrow. Sleep tight kid

౨ৎ

Somewhere in between picking up your car—which entailed no less than stopping for lunch, even more ice cream that you can’t stand to watch him eat, and driving through town to see how bad the damage from hurricane Agatha was, and altogether three hours together ending with a wet, heated kiss in his truck with the windows fogged up—and today, you’ve been with Rafe more times than you can count. 

And you try hard to suppress the thought that it’s just because he’s available, that the availability is the reason for your attraction. And then you catch yourself trying to justify why you want to see Rafe so much, this guy that you had just been assuming was bad because your friends told you he was bad, without much in the way of an explanation. 

But Rafe is the furthest thing from bad. He’s so sweet to you it makes you delirious. He picks you up all the time, even when you tell him you’re just at home, and your car is right there. He pays for everything, he opens every door, the gentle but teasing way he is with Wheezie makes you even more head over heels.

But most important of all, he calls you first. He texts you first. He makes you feel wanted, and you definitely, definitely, want him, so you don’t think twice before saying yes to accompanying him to Midsummers. 

You actually don’t know what it really is, besides for a big party. It was always one of the worst nights at the hospital—litters of teens with alcohol poisoning and from car accidents— so your mom would be working. When you turned eighteen, your mom paid for classes to become a junior nurse, and so busy nights like the one of Midsummers usually was, you would get called in too. So before this week, you’d never spent Midsummers doing anything other than cleaning wounds and fetching suture kits.

You tell Rafe this and he looks at you strangely, another of his looks you hadn’t seen before, with furrowed brows, and you flush and apologize, regretting even opening your mouth. 

You know you’re deeper than you thought when he takes your head between his hands and kisses you—messy, with tongue and spit left glimmering over your mouth, so much so that he wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb when he’s done. 

“Go get yourself a pretty dress, and we’ll have fun, yeah?” You nod stupidly again, the way you’re prone to doing around him. He must have realized you get a kick out being told what to do by him, what to worry about and what to focus on. 

You finally take your mom up on the offer to go shopping. Her and your step-dad are going to this thing anyways, but you can tell she wasn’t completely sure you’d go to something so Kook-y, maybe not just yet, and she doesn’t want to push it since your mood finally seems to have picked up. But then you tell her Rafe asked you to go with him, and the two of you smile and jump around the living room, laughing like kids. She’s happy for you and you’re happy that the two of you are happy at the same time.

Rafe sends you money for a dress—enough money to pay for a month’s rent at your old place. Your mom says your step-dad insists on paying. You feel like things are coming together for the first time.

You wander the stores, trying on different dresses and feeling like a scene out of a movie until you finally find the perfect blue dress. Blue for Rafe’s eyes and his suit jacket, because you’re not embarrassed to admit to him that you want to match for Midsummers. It’s patterned with little flowers, ruffles and lace moving in the wind when you twirl, and for once, you stop feeling like you need to pick a side to be on—Pogue or Kook—and you decide just to be Rafe’s for now.

The night of the party, Rafe offers to pick you up, but you tell him you’ll come with your parents. They’re both wearing shades of peach and salmon, the three of you together look like you’re headed to a baby shower, which you and your mom laugh about in the car ride there. 

You text Rafe to let him know you’re there, and tell your parents you’re going to walk around to find him. When you glance back, they’re talking with some of Blake’s friends, people he had invited to the wedding.

You see, what you can only think, is a glimpse of Pope, in his usual waiter get up, but he disappears before you can see where he was. His father is still there, though, and you make your way through the crowd to get near him.

“Hi, Mr. Heyward,” you say, smiling and unsure if he’ll recognize you. You don’t think he’s ever seen you in anything but your overalls or scrubs. 

“How can I help yo-wait, is that you, well I’ll be damned. You’re blending right in, aren’t ya?”

“Well, it took long enough.” You suddenly feel embarrassed, because he knows the old you, the one who wouldn’t be here in a million years. “Do you know where Pope is? I thought I saw him, I just wanted to say hi.”

“He just went off that way, but if you see him, tell him I still need his help over here, just like I did before he walked away—”

“Can I help with anything?” you ask quickly, but he shakes his head and tells you the direction Pope went in.

You follow it generally, trying to see where he could have gone in such a short time. But then you see all of them, and you can’t stop your feet from running over. Kie, JJ, and Pope, all standing and talking about something, but you don’t really care about interrupting. Kie’s all dressed up too, and you suddenly don’t feel so embarrassed.

“You guys,” you feel yourself gushing. “It’s been so long,” and you go in for a hug with each of them. 

“Wow, god, you look so pretty,” Kie says, and you hug her again. You don’t realize how much you missed her. 

“You too, Kie,” your smile is so wide it starts to hurt. “Isn’t this so weird, all of us here at this party? Where’s John B?” you ask, looking around. 

“So weird,” JJ says, and you notice the bruise around his right eye because he’s turning to look at Kie again. 

“JJ, what the hell happened to your face?” JJ doesn’t answer, he actually doesn’t say anything at all, which should have been your first sign that something was wrong. You look at him quizzically, before turning to Pope.

“Pope, your dad’s looking for you, I just went over to say hi-”

“Oh crap,” he says, heading back in the direction you just came from. “Sorry, be right back.”

“W-what the hell is going on?” you question Kie and JJ, searching for any answer, desperately hoping that it isn’t we don’t wanna tell you. Your phone goes off, twice, and you pick it up. The look on your face must have been beyond palpable to your friends.

R🧸ྀི: Come inside the house

R🧸ྀི: Got a surprise for you

“I-I gotta go inside,” you say, looking at the confused faces of your friends.

“What’s inside? I thought-”

“No, nothing, I don’t know, Rafe just asked me to go inside, and I haven’t even seen him yet-”

“Rafe? What, Rafe Cameron?”

“Y-yeah?”

“What are you, with him, or something?” JJ asks, and you feel your heart fall into your stomach.

“I-I yeah, maybe. I’m here with him tonight, he-” Your phone goes off again. “I’m sorry, I have to go find him, but I’ll come find you guys right after, okay?”

You leave the two of them there, looking at each other confused, looking at you like they don’t recognize you. And it stings, for a moment, until you get inside the mansion and find Rafe hanging out by the entrance, nursing a glass of scotch and eyes lighting up when they see you. 

Everything with him is like that scene from that movie. Lights go dim, you walk in slow-motion, the room goes quiet. He watches you walk up to him and his eyes take in everything—your pretty hair, your dolled up face, the way your dress moves when you walk, and most of all, that you’re here with him. He reaches his hand out to grab you by the waist to bring you in for a kiss. It’s not like the others, it’s chaste and soft and romantic. 

“Hi,” you breathe out, resting your forehead against his.

“Hi, kid. You look fantastic,” and he presses another sweet kiss to your temple. 

“We’re matching,” you say with a smile, taking in his blue suit jacket and the way you feel dizzy right now, and you feel his grip tighten around your waist. 

“Yeah, we are. Now get in line with me, we’re walking out together.” Your eyes are big like coins, because you understood that you were coming here together, but this is his family’s big night, if everything your mom and Blake told you was to be taken seriously.

You don’t have time to say anything, because Rafe’s nice parents line up ahead of you, and his two sisters behind you. Wheezie tugs on your dress and you turn to greet her and Sarah quickly, because then the doors open and you’re walking out, following Rafe’s lead, lots and lots of eyes on you, but only one pair of blue ones you really care about. 

You almost want to cry, the whole thing is so magical. You have a flute of champagne and a sip of Rafe’s scotch, and you are deliciously tipsy for the next two hours. Your parents come over to talk to you and Rafe, and you can see how happy your mom is in her eyes. You and Rafe dance until your feet hurt, and it’s only then, when he leaves your sight, that things seem to get back down to how they normally are. 

You can’t find Wheezie’s parents or Sarah anywhere. The little girl spilled ice cream on her dress and is crying quietly, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. You want to get her parents, because you think they can help, but you end up taking her to the bathroom yourself. With a damp paper towel, you wipe as much as you can, and you promise to get her another ice cream if she stops crying.

“It’s just a stain, honey, don’t worry.” You toss the dirty tissue and grab another one, wiping the tears and then letting her blow her nose. “It’ll come out when you wash it. And no one will notice because it’s so dark now, right?” She nods in agreement. “Do you wanna go find your big brother?” Another sad nod. “Let’s go honey,” and you take her hand and lead her back out. 

You’re not entirely sure what you missed in the last fifteen minutes. Everyone’s gone quiet, staring at what you hope is a trick of your eyes—all of your friends running from the party, hooting and hollering. Kiara’s parents look hopelessly upset, Mr. Heyward downright disappointed, and your mom scanning the crowd, trying to see where you are, until she spots you and Wheezie.

Her and Mrs. Cameron come running over, and you instinctively flinch, thinking the giant headpiece she’s wearing will poke you. You hand off Wheezie and turn to look at your friends, and you think, for a second, they’re waiting for you. They are, you realize slowly, waiting for you.

And you almost take off right then and there, until you feel Rafe’s warm hand on your shoulder, and you look up to see him bleeding.

At that moment, you turn right back around and head inside to the nearest room, sitting Rafe down on the bed and scrambling to find something to clean his wound with, and something cold to help the swelling, and in your panic, you don’t realize you’re rambling.

“I mean, what the hell was all of that? I turn around for two seconds and everyone’s running from the party like there’s a fire, and destroying things and throwing punches, I mean, I get they hate the whole Kook thing, but it was never like this before, even when I didn’t know you yet, and I-” you drop the frozen bag of peas onto the floor in your sudden realization. “I just let them leave. They waited for me. I didn’t go with them.” Your eyes fill with years. That’s a betrayal, not all the stupid stuff you thought was happening before tonight. They waited for you, and you turned right back around to go inside with Rafe.

“Hey, hey hey,” Rafe says quietly, taking your head in his hands again. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re bleeding, Rafe,” you say, voice trembling. Your tears are ruining your makeup. 

“I’m gonna be fine. You know why?” he asks, and you feel more tears rush down. “Hey, hey, no crying.” Rafe wipes away the tears with his hand, then he brings his hands to your back and rubs soothingly. “You know why, kid?” “Why?” it comes out a whisper.

“Because you chose me. We’re gonna be fine, okay?” 

The way he says it you believe him. 

You spend the next two days at Tannyhill with Rafe, wearing nothing but his t-shirts and doing nothing but rolling around in bed. It’s been a month, maybe a little bit more, and you haven’t even had the talk yet—the sex talk. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s not ready for it, but you’re not ready for it, not yet. You’re working on it. He doesn’t make it easy for you, either. You’ve spent hours now, making out in his lap, grinding against each other until you make a mess all over his shorts and his hair is sticking up in every direction, and working your way up to telling him what you want. 

You’re almost there. You’re waiting for the perfect time. Which was almost right now.

“You like that? Shit-” he breathes into your ear, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of your neck right underneath. It makes you moan again, louder, until he clamps a hand—the one not three fingers deep inside your leaking pussy—over your mouth, barricading the noise from leaving. “Gotta be quiet, kid, you want the whole house hearin’ what a little slut you are?” 

His blue eyes, lustful and blown, stare into your own. You shake your head softly underneath the tight grip of his palm. You’re always obedient with him, but he really likes you like this. 

“Yeah? You gonna do whatever daddy tells you? Just so I keep my fingers in this tight pussy?” You nod compliantly, head falling back on to the pillow. His fingers are thick, and the cool of his ring rubs against your clit in the best way, in ways you didn’t even realize it could feel.

He keeps fucking three fingers in and out of you, moans muffled by his hand but not completely silenced. You must be making a mess, because it’s what he keeps talking about, rambling about your messy cunt, greedy and sucking him in, and how you’ve been cumming for him like a little princess for the last two days, but it’s never enough for you. 

It’s when he removes his hand and kisses you hard instead, tongue deep inside you mouth, the metal of his chain dangling on your chin, and you feel the similarly cool metal of his ring on you, you finish again, exploding around your boyfriend’s fingers and moaning into his mouth. He hears you, repeating his name over and over again, not Rafe, but rather daddy, and he swallows your chants into his mouth. When you calm down, he makes a show of licking his fingers off while locking eyes, and then you get flustered and bury your head into his neck. 

He laughs, because it’s so cute, but only for a minute. Then you two shower together and he makes another show, but this time out of you, kneeling on the floor of his tub while he paints your face with his cum, making sure to cover the necklace you’ve been wearing recently too, the silver, loopy little R hanging between your collarbone. 

Then you get dressed—a little pink dress that’s been his favorite recently, with buttons down the front and a pretty bow where your tits sit— and the two of you have lunch with his family like nothing ever happened.

Rafe drops you back at home later that day, gives you a kiss where he grabs the back of your head to bring you in, and then waves bye to your parents as he unlatches the door for you, in his usual way. 

౨ৎ

A week later, he does the same thing. Drops you off, drives away once you’re inside, and you’re starstruck walking back, so much so, you don’t realize there’s someone waiting for you.

It’s Kie, and Rafe’s sister, Sarah. You’re a little confused since you thought the two of them didn’t get

along,  but they look like they’re fine now.

“Hey, listen, we need you to help us. Can you come down to the Chateau later tonight, after sunset?” Kie asks, and you must look as confused as you feel, because Sarah speaks right away, before you can get a word out.

“You cannot tell my brother. Promise us you won’t.”

“Why are you asking me that? Why can’t I tell him?” Sarah and Kie exchange a look, and it’s clear to you that you are missing several pieces of the puzzle. “Guys! Come on, you-you can’t expect me to just be on board with lying to my boyfriend and showing up to help you guys without knowing what it even is, right? What’s going on?”

“We will explain everything, just please promise us that you’ll come,” Kie implores and you nod hesitantly. 

“And you won’t tell Rafe?” Sarah asks again.

“Come on. Pogues for life, right?” Kie says, and you get a flashback to your life two months

ago—doing anything for your friends and dreaming of how you’d end up with one of the boys someday. It all seems like a million years ago.

“Yes, yeah, yeah, I’ll be there. I won’t tell him.”

You guess that God was on your side today. 

R🧸ྀི: Hey kid. Busy with my dad today. Dinner tomorrow okay?

sounds perfect!! don’t work too hard! i'm gonna watch a movie with my mom and blake and stay in tn

R🧸ྀི: You got mail again?

you know me so well

R🧸ྀི: Have fun princess.

You set down your phone on your dresser, feeling like you could throw up your dinner. It’s just starting to get dark outside, and you’ve just lied to Rafe for the first time since you’ve met him. It feels terrible, like something’s gnawing inside you, begging you to come clean and confess, or not to go out at all. You think about it for a moment, maybe if he knows you’re with some of your old friends, it won’t be like a real lie.

Then you remember your old friends are the ones who punched him. You tell your mom you’re going to Rafe’s, and then you get in your fancy car that Rafe helped you christen the other day—in the backseat, specifically—and drive to your old life.

You park next to the Twinkie and get out, stepping into a slush of mud. Your shoes are new, and were clean, and you cringe internally at how much you started caring about these things. You don’t want Rafe to see you with dirty shoes.

The boys and Kie are sitting on the logs near the fire pit. Sarah is sitting right next to John B, looking at him how you look at Rafe, and then you realize the magnitude of just how much you’ve missed.

“Hey,” Kie says, looking up first, smiling. “You came.”

“Yeah.” You’re at a loss for words. Everyone looks the same. Everything feels so different.

A part of you wants to sink down between Pope and JJ, crack a beer, and laugh at jokes you think you would still understand. Another part wants to get into the fancy car and drive to Tannyhill. You opt for neither, standing a few yards away and letting the light from the fire cast its hazy glow over you and all your old friends.

“Did you tell him?” Sarah asks. She means it well, not in a rude way, but that’s how you feel. 

“No, no, I didn’t. He, he thinks I’m at home. With my mom and Blake.”

“Alright,” JJ says, tossing his empty beer can. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Listen,” John B says, getting up and sounding too sincere for your liking. “We all appreciate you coming. Because we need a favor from you, and it might not be easy.”

“I mean, I think it’s gonna be pretty easy. Unless Rafe is like, really, really crazy, like even crazier than we already know he is-” JJ says, but stops when Kie and Pope shake their heads. “What? She knows, she’s the one dating him.”

“Know what? I don’t even know what you want from me-”

“We need a distraction. For Rafe, okay?” John B starts.

“An hour, okay, that’s all we need, right guys?” Sarah asks, looking back at everyone. They nod, trying to convince you, except Jayj.

“Well, like, maybe a couple of hours. If he’s up to that, y’know, I don’t wanna assume shit ‘bout stamina and all that-”

“JJ,” Pope says, shoving the blond’s arm. “You’re not helping.”

“What?” you breathe out, even more confused than before. You start to get what they’re asking, you just don’t want to admit it.

“We need to distract Rafe, for an hour, or like two hours, and we figured you’re our best bet.” John B says, and you look at them with your mouth falling open a little.

“You want me to…sleep with my boyfriend, to distract him, so you guys can do something that you won’t tell me about?”

“Kind of, yeah. Pretty much.”

“And is, is this thing going to hurt him in the long run? Is he going to be upset? When he finds out what happened?”

“My Kook feelings radar is a little off, right now, but who knows, I mean hell, he might not ever find out,” JJ says, and you want to sit down, because your knees feel weak, but the ground is muddy and the logs are occupied. “If we do our job right, he won’t know for a long, long time, right guys?” A chorus of right, right rings around the fire. 

“And you’re not gonna tell me what this is about at all?” 

“Well, it might not be a good idea. Because, you’re dating him, and listen, we just need like an hour, and he never has to know you were a part of this, okay? I will never tell him, none of us will,” Sarah says, and you do believe her. But you can’t believe that they’re asking you to do this.

“And if he finds out, and he breaks up with me, then what?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, knew this was a bad idea. She’s not gonna do it, guys, so let’s just reformulate-”

“Oh, you knew I was gonna say no, JJ? Lying to my boyfriend? For the people who hurt him?”

“He hurt us too, y’know,” Pope says, and you feel your heart begin to race. 

“No, I don’t know, because no one tells me anything! No one answers their phone and no one’s here when I drive down. Kie, you live two streets away from me now. The first time I saw you all month was at Midsummers and then, today. Asking me to come here to lie to Rafe, to sleep with him to distract him.”

“No, no, we shouldn’t have asked you, because I knew you would say no, I told them-” and you can’t believe the words coming from your friend's mouth. “Look at you, you went total Kook on us.” 

And then you feel like they’re taking it all in. The R around your neck, the jewelry that sparkles in the light of the fire, all yellow citrine, for Rafe’s birth month. The pink dress that’s his favorite—you put it on this morning in case you ended up back at Tannyhill tonight. And worst of all, his white button up hanging from your shoulders, smelling like ocean and sandalwood and Rafe Cameron. 

“It’s like you belong to him now.” You feel a tear sliding down, but you wipe it away. 

“Maybe that’s because he was actually there for me, when I needed it. And I get it, maybe I should have tried harder. But you guys should have too.”

The group of you stand there in silence for a moment. Your phone goes off. You know it’s Rafe. They know it is too. It starts with Kie, and then a course of apologies from everyone. John B wipes away your tears like nothing has changed. JJ scratches his head, and then hugs you tighter than he ever has before. Pope tells you how much he’s missed you, how he had to start bandaging wounds in your absence. 

“I’ll distract him. An hour, that’s all you get. I’m not sleeping with him because you guys want me to, okay? So if he leaves, he leaves.” 

You take off for Tannyhill, leaving your old life behind and risking your new one all at once.

౨ৎ

Rafe’s phone goes off again, and he lets out a short, tight breath. 

Princess: are you still busy at home? i need you

Princess: please rafey

“I’ll be back,” he tells Ward, and before he can even respond, he’s out of the room, calling you. The line rings twice, and then you answer.

“Rafey?” you sound quiet, like you’ve been crying.

“Hey, hey kid. What’s going on? I told you I was working tonight,” and then he runs a hand through his hair, because he knows he’s fucked, if you’re crying and you need him, then he’s going.

“I know, Rafe, I just really need you, I had a really bad night-” “Woah, wait, I thought you were just with your parents?”

“I was, it just got really bad, I-I’m outside Tannyhill because I had to leave, and then I got lost and I was scared so I just came straight here.”

“Lost? Jeez, kid, it’s, like, down the street.”

“But I didn’t wanna bother you, ‘cause you were busy-” and then he hears a hiccup, and then a sob.

“Okay, okay, stay there, I’m gonna come get you,” and he hangs up the call. He darts outside, spotting your navy car and you inside, still in the same clothes from this morning, just wearing his shirt over it, like a jacket. He gets close and you climb out of the car yourself, jumping into his arms and burying your face into his neck, like you always do when you get like this. He can feel the way your body shakes under his arms, the wetness of your tears on his black polo.

“Okay, it’s okay now, come on, let’s go inside.” You make it up the stairs to his bedroom, when Rafe guides you inside and pulls his blinds, so no one peeks inside. 

He sits you up on the edge of his bed, squatting before you, hands in yours, arms resting on your knees. 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” You shake your head, another tear falling. You wish you could say you were pretending, but the tears find their own way when you think about the encounter you just had. You’re lying when you tell him it’s between you and your parents, but his reaction makes you regret it instantly. “Did they say somethin’ to you? Did they try something? I’ll go over there and sort it all out, okay, kid, don’t worry about a thing.” He stands up, running another hand through his messy hair, letting it fall in the moppy way it always does, over his forehead. “Stay here, okay, princess, I’ll be back.”

Then you realize he’s gonna go over there and talk to your perfectly happy, clueless parents, so you stand up and turn him back around.

“No, no, Rafe, don’t leave,” and then you melt into a hug, taking in everything about it. Rafe rests his chin on the top of your head, his arms tight around your back. He smells so good, and the way he’s taking care of you makes you realize a couple things. “Will you just…make me forget?”

Your boyfriend looks down at you, and you don’t shy away from his gaze like you often, when you get flustered. 

“Make you forget?” he questions. 

“I just don’t wanna think about anything else,” you start, undoing the bow of your dress, more cleavage revealing itself. “I just wanna think about you,” and then your fingers undo the buttons trailing down the front of your dress. It falls off your shoulders, and you stand before him, naked, certainly not for the first time but what feels like the most intimate it’s ever been. 

There’s a pretty lingerie set hidden in the back of your closet, what you had actually put aside for this moment, but you had no time to run home and get it, so you opted for the next best thing, taking your bra and panties off in the car ride here, shoving them into your purse, and hoping that Rafe was as tempted as you were.

“Just about me?” he questions, and you take his hand into yours, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“Just you, Rafe. I’m ready, Rafey, I want you to fuck me,” and it seems like that’s all it takes. Rafe crushes his lips against yours, kissing you how he always does, tongue in your mouth and spit everywhere. He holds you by the back of your head and your hands run through his hair. You want him closer, even closer than he already is, than he possibly could be.

His hands leave your head and go down to your ass, grabbing both cheeks roughly and wrapping your legs around his waist. He drops you on his bed, head hitting the pillow, and you pull away for a second, to catch your breath. Rafe doesn’t let it happen, gripping your cheeks between his hand and bringing you back in for another kiss. You’re naked, and he’s still completely dressed, but you don’t miss the obvious way his hardened dick presses against your bare cunt.

You can’t breathe, and all your senses are overpowered by Rafe, but you also don’t really care. You keep kissing, moaning into each other’s mouths and gripping hair and skin that’s sure to leave a bruise tomorrow, until you feel him finally pull away for a second. You catch your breath, open-mouthed and heaving, eyes locked.

“‘M only gonna ask this once, kid,” he breathes, leaving another hot kiss on your neck, which makes you spread your legs further open with instinct. “Y’sure you want this? ‘Cause there’s no going back.”

You nod in that way you always have with him, telling him everything with no words at all. 

“That’s my girl,” he breathes against your neck, and you feel him bite down into the soft skin of the flesh there. You yell out, but it turns into a moan when Rafe licks his tongue over the wound. “That’s just so you can remember this night, okay baby?” You look back up at him, wet eyes, swollen lips, and flushed, sweaty skin. 

“Thank you, daddy.” He smiles, because you’re in for it now.

“You’re welcome, kid. Shit,” he breathes out, “I knew you’d like it, little freak.” He starts with more hot kisses, all the way down your neck, down your sternum, and stopping to press a kiss to each side of your ribs, before continuing down to your stomach. You whine from your position below him, one huge hand holding your hip in place and the other tracing the pattern of the kisses down, until he finally reaches where you want him to be.

“Gotta be quiet, kid, everyone’s home. You gonna let them all hear how much of a whore you are for me? Huh?” he mocks, and you shake your head fervently. “Good girl. You’re being so good, you’re gonna get a treat, okay?” You nod stupidly.

His breath catches for a second, when he gets down to your glistening cunt. He looks up at you from his position there, your chest heaving, tits bouncing with how much you’re squirming, how much you want him to do something. He moves his hands, one resting on your breast, pinching the nipple with his finger, and the other running a line down your pussy. Your whole body twitches up when he runs the metal of his ring over your clit, because he knows you really like it. 

“Rafe, please,” you cry, sounding stupid and fucked out, even though he hasn’t started yet. “Please, please,” and your hips jerk up. He pushes them down. 

“Be patient, kid. Gotta admire this virgin pussy for the last time before I ruin it, ‘kay?” You feel your walls tighten at his words, and you hope he missed the way everything just clenched, but it’s Rafe, and he didn’t miss a thing. “Like that, huh? You like being my little slut?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the damage is done.

Rafe dives in, and you let out a moan that you didn’t realize you were capable of producing. You clamp your own hand over your mouth, because you know he’ll stop if you get too loud. His tongue licks you up and down, and true to what you had always thought, he does know what he’s doing.

The hand pinching your nipples doesn’t relent, and the weight of his arm holds you down when you buck up as he pushes two fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch your walls out. It hurts, in the best way, and before you know it, he’s added a third.

His mouth stays focused on your clit, and your legs tremble, even though it’s barely been a few minutes. It’s all of it, all at once. Being naked in Rafe’s bed, his hand groping your tits, the way he holds you down without trying, the smell of his cologne and his skin and his sweat, making you lightheaded.

His fingers push in and out, and when he hits that sweet spot inside you, the one your own fingers have never been able to reach but somehow, Rafe’s have become well acquainted with, you can’t help the noises you make.

You repeat his name over and over again, and you think you’ve felt the height of this pleasure, that nothing could surpass this feeling, until your stomach tightens in an entirely new way. Your fucked out brain gets it together for a minute, to feel the overwhelming, ecstatic pressure of Rafe’s tongue on your clit, spelling out his own name. Your stomach tightens, unbearably so, that coil winding up, but before he even finishes the F, it snaps all at once. 

You let out a scream—which you think is so stupid of you. But it feels so good, there was no way around it. Rafe reacts instantly, grabbing your hand that’s pulling his hair and using it to snap over your mouth, all while he rides you through it. 

His nose presses against your clit while he slides his fingers out, your pussy walls clamping around nothing, missing him already. He laps up the mess you just made with his tongue, the noise being so overwhelming, you want to scream again. 

You use your other hand to yank his hair, pulling him up to look at you, because you know you want to see this. Rafe, your Rafe, your boyfriend, with blown, wide eyes and the entire lower half of his face glistening with your juices, with the mess you just made, and then you collapse back down onto the bed. 

Your breathing is heavy. You aren’t sure it’ll ever go back to normal.

Rafe pulls his shirt off by grabbing it from the back, yanking it over his head. Your hand floats up to

touch his chest, to make sure he’s still real and not just a vivid sex dream, but he slaps it out of the way.

“What did I say, hm?” he asks, leaning over you. His face is just an inch too far to kiss. Your limbs feel numb, and you can’t pull him down yourself. You want to cry, because you want to kiss him so badly. “I said you had to be quiet, or everyone’s gonna know what a little whore you are.”

“I tried, daddy, I did-”

“I don’t think you tried at all, kid.”

“No, I did, I swear-”

“You’re lucky that I-” and before he finishes his sentence, you pull him down into another kiss. He tastes like you and scotch, and the combination is so intoxicating, you can’t pull away. “Hey, hey,” he breathes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” and the soothing way he says it, you believe him.

“I’m lucky that you what?” you ask, unbuckling his belt and snaking it off the loops.

“That I love you, and I’m not gonna punish you tonight for not listening to me.” You drop the belt over your stomach, the melt part hitting with a little clink. You look back up at him, your eyes wide, you imagine, your cheeks flushed. 

“You love me?” you ask, quietly. You can barely hear yourself over the thud of your heart pounding in your chest.

“I do,” Rafe replies, running his hand to smooth over your hair, which you’re sure is a mess now. “Enough that I’m gonna fuck you now, but I had to say it first, because I’m gonna fuck you until you break.”

You’re speechless, watching Rafe unbutton his pants and kick them off, boxers going with them. He strokes himself once, twice, and you’re still staring up at his face, even though normally you would get distracted. 

He looks up again. 

“You ready, kid?” 

“I love you, Rafey,” you say, twisting your hands around to the back of his neck, pushing him into yet another kiss. You can’t pull away, even if you want to, you want him so close that you forget everything else in the world for now. While you’re kissing, he lines himself up with your leaking pussy, which has probably ruined these sheets, and pushes in the tip.

You pull back from the kiss, just to moan, but Rafe silences you with his mouth again. He pushes in more, and more, until you’re sure he’s bottomed out. Your cunt is so, so stretched, you can’t fathom this is what you’ve been missing out on, and it feels so good, like nothing has ever felt before, not his fingers, not his tongue, not any other part of him. 

“That’s halfway, kid, you doin’ okay?” and your eyes jolt up to his in a second.

“H-half?” you breathe out. “I can’t, I can’t take any more, s’not gonna fit Rafe, not gonna fit-”

“Hey,” he repeats, which always has that calming effect on you. “You let me worry about that, okay? Just relax this pussy f’me, okay?” and the way he says it, you do, because you have no other choice. He pushes in again, fast, hard, and then pulls all the way out. You’re too scared to look anywhere but his eyes, so you stay locked in on them, until he pushes all the way in again, and your eyes clasp shut.

“Oh, oh my god, Rafe-” And you don’t care who hears you this time. He pulls out again, just his lip still inside you.

“Look, princess, look down,” he urges, and you follow his instructions, because you always do. “Look where we’re connected, yeah?” He fucks in and out of you, slowly but then faster, and you do look, entranced at the way your pussy sucks him in, the way your cum is coating his dick, at the brutal pace he’s set. 

You look until you can’t anymore, leaning back against the pillow and watching Rafe above you, his face twisted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, mouth panting. He buries his face into your neck, and you grip the top of his shoulders, nails digging in, because you just need to hold onto something.

He told the truth, you think, in your fucked out, blissful state, that he was going to fuck you like he hated you, battering into your sore pussy over and over again. 

You repeat his name—daddy, not Rafe—until he shuts you up with a kiss, and he watches the strings of spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away.

“Just needed this dick, didn’ya princess? Just needed daddy to think for ya?” You moan in reply. “You got it then, kid, because m’never gonna stop fucking you. Y’never gonna think about anything else again.”

And then he finally does you in, because he presses down, right below your stomach, while he slams in, and you feel something inside you break, like a flood breaking through a dam. It washes out to every part of you, from your ears to your fingers to your toes. White hot pleasure runs its course through your body, cunt tightening and shaking, eyes rolling back, your spine arching forward. Through all of it, Rafe pins you down, and fucks you through it. And finally, deliriously, you open your fucked-out eyes, looking up at him.

“I love you, daddy,” and he cums before he can even pull out, messy rivulets shooting inside you, leaking out onto his expensive sheets. He moans into your neck, and his entire body slumps forward, and you giggle under the weight.

A few minutes pass by.

“Rafey, you’re gonna crush me,” you say quietly, sing-songy. You’re so happy, you’ve forgotten everything else that’s happened.

Rafe presses a kiss to your forehead and rolls off, slumping next to you. Your head lands on his chest not a second later, his arm around your shoulder and another kiss to your hair.

“Feel better, kid?” 

“So much better, Rafey.” 

You don’t know when you fall asleep, only that you woke up to the sound of your phone going on. You pick it up, trying to turn down the light so Rafe doesn’t wake up too. There’s one message.

JJ: I thought you said you weren’t gonna sleep with him?

౨ৎ

[avelera]

Man, there’s all these little beats in OFMD S2 1-3 where people keep EXPECTING Stede to be upset or horrified about Ed’s actions and then he’s just. Not. In a way that reminded me of how a lot of fanon kept softening Stede into someone who doesn’t swear and is horrified at Ed for setting those ships on fire when imo to my eyes he was horrified for Ed because Ed was still so clearly distressed about it.

- Zheng Yi Sao asks Stede how he’s doing now that he knows Ed did horrible things to his crew and there’s this beat and Stede just pivots to, oh yeah, sometimes Ed is troubled. Like it didn’t occur to him to be upset on the crew’s behalf he’s worried about Ed.

- Izzy keeps trying to spare Stede’s feelings and cover up Ed’s spiral, but Stede clocked what was going on with Ed immediately and wasn’t the least bit intimidated or bothered. The knives brought the room together. Of course Ed’s trying to burn the world down or die trying. Duh. And I genuinely don’t think the STUFF in the Revenge mattered even a fraction to Stede as much as the signs of Ed’s breakdown broke his heart. It’s just STUFF, who cares.

- Lucius had to SPECIFICALLY call out Stede for not being surprised or bothered by what happened to him. What Ed did. Stede has to almost consciously remind himself to express polite concern. He just doesn’t actually care, instinctively or automatically, about what happened to Lucius. Part of it is he blames himself more than Ed. Part of it is he just doesn’t care, Ed is the priority.

They’re little blink and you’ll miss it pauses in some cases. Micro-expressions. The absence of a reaction. But honestly, I will scream it to the end of time, Stede is not some nonviolent creampuff scared or upset by Ed’s evil ways. He wants to join Ed in the atrocities. The man ran away to become a pirate. He asked if Lucius was taking notes during a murderous raid.

Stede’s at least a little on some kind of whackadoodle pirate comedy neurodivergence spectrum to the point where he actually really actually struggles to empathize with people, even people he cares about!, if their feelings conflict with his hyperfixation (piracy) and the love of his life (Ed Teach). He’s always, ALWAYS going to pick Ed over Lucius or Izzy or his crew or even his own feelings, if the option is there. He will literally throw himself overboard to get to Ed’s side. No pause. No consideration of anyone else or even his own safety.

Stede sometimes seems to have to consciously remind himself things like, oh yeah, the crew, I need to see to them. Not because he’s heartless or doesn’t care, but because it takes a bit of conscious effort for him to see beyond the laser-focused spotlight of what and who he does care most about, he has to remind himself of social niceties and other people’s feelings (just see him running away in the first place!) when he gets an idea in his head. It’s as if he had to train himself to consciously care about some things other people care about and as a neurodivergent person myself, that felt very familiar in a comedically writ large sort of way. I’d even argue that’s where all his aristocratic social niceties come from. They were his guidebook for how to do things “right” in a world that otherwise made no sense to him outside his hyperfixations. He practiced being a person through the aristocratic training because it was all so foreign to him from the start, including caring, actually caring, about the needs of others. Not because he’s consciously evil or consciously a jerk. The instinct just isn’t there unless he practices at it until it becomes reflex to ask how others are doing, because on his own his brain just doesn’t really notice or care.

I just… hope the fandom notes and has as much FUN as I do noticing all the little moments where even people inside the story of OFMD expect Stede to act in a normal way and instead he remains unhinged, laser-focused on Ed.

Stede’s not just an Ed apologist, he truly doesn’t blame Ed for any of it. He blames only himself. He doesn’t always voice this but he really really only cares about anyone else including the crew as a DISTANT second and he has to consciously REMIND himself to do so. He is able to rally to take action, to care about their physical needs like safety during the rescue, but he still struggles, deeply struggles, to remember to show empathy in a non-performative way for anyone except his special person, Ed.

Stede’s not a creampuff, not a nice guy, not some emotionally or morally perfect angel. He has to consciously practice caring about literally anything else but what he wants to do and his special person. And to me that’s a thousand times more interesting than shoving him in a box labeled “the blond, pacifist do-gooder good guy” in their relationship.

[zyafics]

i love love love your writing<3

rq: rafe had came up to tanneyhill's balcony for some peace at his own party. though he didn’t expect reader to be there, looking utterly lost. he knows reader is new. seen you before, too, hanging out with sarah’s crowd; under a pogue’s arm whenever they see him around, telling you rafe isn't anything worth talking, or interacting with.

first off, i am so sorry it took me so long to get this done (as with a lot of my requests) but thank you so much for enjoying my writing!! 🩷 i hope i do this prompt justice (literally shaking in my boots as i post this 😭)

ANGRY GOD | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (oneshot/mini series) | x Female Reader

Content — fluff, angst, Rafe spiraling (S2 Canons), Enemies Tension, Rafe growing possessive of Reader. Word Count — 3.2K.

Dedication — to @mintforadollar who listened to me rant about this plot a month ago, only for it to now be completed <3. Prompt credited to this on c.ai!

lıllılı Champagne Coast by Blood Orange

Rafe wants to be alone.

His mind is caught in a tailspin, muscles singing with ache from his latest altercation. It didn't help that the fucker managed to get some good swings in, ripples of pain spread from his jawline to his left eye. When he enters the second floor of Tannyhill, all he wants is to catch a breath of fresh air away from the party. His party.

He didn't expect to see you.

"Out." Rafe commands gruffly. You flinch at his abrupt command. "Second floor is off-limits."

He adds nothing else as he marches over to the edge of the balcony, digging his scraped palms into the smooth ridges of the handrails. He didn't want anyone here to witness the brunt of his frustration and disappointment, or how his mind swims with disoriented and incoherent thoughts. He wants to be alone.

But you won't let him.

Cautiously, you take a step forward—not in the direction of the exit, as he hoped—but towards Rafe instead. Lifting his head at the sound of your faint footsteps, agitation flushing through his expression at your proximity. "Didn't I tell you to get out?"

"You got into a fight." You mumble your observation, examining his hardened profile to discover the bruise that decorates his jawline, swelling with discoloration, the darkening under his left eye, and the split of open skin right above his brow.

He scoffs. "No shit."

"And you're bleeding."

He is? He didn't know that. All consumed by the adrenaline rushing through his system—that has yet to wind down—Rafe lifts his hand to run his fingers over the most prominent aches around his face. When he presses against something wet, he withdraws, finding a fresh coat of blood over his fingertips.

Rafe grimaces at the sight—not the blood, he's used to that—but the fact that his opponent succeeded in cutting him too.

Now, he definitely doesn't want you here. Before Rafe has the chance to kick you out the third time, you offer assistance. "I can help," you say meekly, messing with the hems of your top.

He didn't catch it over the loud thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. "What?"

"I can help," you repeat, louder this time, wincing at the projection of your own voice. You don't like the strain in your tone, the desperation seeping through. You'd do anything to avoid returning to the party. "I know how to patch up wounds. I'm training to be an EMT."

"I didn't ask for a life story." He snaps, a mechanical response to any aid. The idea of someone taking care of him is unheard of; unfamiliar and uncomfortable. He doesn't know how to react other than complete and utter rejection. "Besides, I can take care of myself."

Rafe assumes his harsh words would drive you away. The bite behind each syllable has been enough to scare off everyone else but you remain firm in your position. If anything, your expression softens, eyes washing over his rigid posture with a sympathetic look. He hates it.

"I know," you start slowly, eyes cascading down his face, carefully monitoring his reaction. "But... wouldn't it be nice if you didn't have to?"

His expression breaks.

Your kindness strikes directly to his chest and his heart clutches at the way you address him. With humanity. Even when he's been nothing but a complete asshole to you, demanding your departure, you respond with a sense of warmth. Rafe clenches down his jaw.

When he doesn't answer quickly enough, a sign of his contemplation, you add. "Please."

Reluctantly, Rafe gives in. "Fine."

Rafe moves from the balcony deck to reenter Tannyhill, not bothering to check if you're following behind. He heads straight to the ensuite connected to his bedroom, checking under the sink for his first aid kit, before throwing the box over the counter.

That's when he catches a glimpse of himself through the mirror, the ugly bruising that lines his face, the dried blood that stains his temple. His jaw tightens at the sight.

You enter shortly after, seeing him with his back to the mirror, his spine pressed against the rim of the porcelain sink. Your eyes do a quick sweep of your surroundings, before landing on Rafe and his rigid form, arms crossed over his chest, and a cold look on his face. He just wants to get this over with.

You glance outside, to his room, with its openness, before meeting his gaze. "Can we go to your bed?"

His answer is immediate. "No."

You frown but ask nothing more. Rafe's trying to make this difficult for you, refusing to cooperate because it's easier than submitting to your grace. Easier than admitting he'd like the help. You work around that.

Grabbing the antiseptics from the kit, you proceed to clean his wounds, softly massaging his flesh in the process. For a moment, it feels too good and Rafe fights the urge to lean into your hand before a sharp pain rips through him from the open cut and he hisses.

You immediately pull back, mumbling a quick apology.

His eyes squeeze shut, it takes a moment for the throb to cool down, and once it does, Rafe reconnects his gaze with yours to find the remorseful look behind your stare, the softening of your features met with utmost concern. You don't make another move to try again.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." He bites out, wanting to rid you of that look. He's not weak. Stop looking at him as if he is. Despite the reassurance, you have yet to continue. "You're not going to be a good doctor if you shy away every time your patient gets hurt."

"I feel bad." You admit, chewing on your bottom lip.

"Why? You didn't do this."

He's the one who got into the fight. The one who swung first. While he may have won in the end, having knocked out the guy in the middle of the yard, it doesn't neglect the damage done to him in the process. But, at the end of the day, it's his fault.

You don't see it that way. "Because you're hurting."

You're too soft. That's what Rafe determines. Every little moment, little sprouts of empathy, every inch of sensitivity, is going to hurt you in the end. It won't save anything.

"I don't need your pity," Rafe snaps, giving you the first taste of reality under his razor-sharp tongue. He could be considerate, and understanding, but he isn't. That's how he learned.

"It's not—" You sigh. You don't want to argue and relent against his jabs. Without further commentary, you continue forward with your duties: aiding in his treatment and biting through the humane urge to sympathize with his pain.

Rafe takes the silence to observe you while you work. He knows you grew quiet because of his rough manners, and he won't lie to himself and say he enjoys it. He doesn't. But it adds to the list of everything else he has done wrong in his life; his long string of failures that his father can't wait to remind him of.

In the quietness, Rafe recognizes something about you. It takes a moment, after all the aches and throbs, but the recognition dawns on him that you're new. You hang out with his sister, Sarah, and the rest of the filthy group of no-good Pogues on the other side of the island. There have even been occasions when he saw you under JJ's arm, slinging around red solo cups and a grim soak of southside.

"Where's your friends?" Rafe asks, surprising you with the roughness behind his voice.

You lift your gaze to his. "Hmm?"

"The Pogues. Don't you hang out with them?"

You swallow hard, feeling like a child being caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You hoped your newcomer status would be enough to shield yourself from Rafe's wraith, especially his hatred towards your selected group. "Why?"

Rafe immediately picks up on the shift in your demeanor, the rigidness in your shoulders that tells him exactly what he needs to know. "You've heard about me, haven't you?"

You hesitate to answer. Rafe presses on. "What'd they say?"

Your friends have told you many warnings about the notorious Rafe Cameron. It all comes down to one conclusion: he's dangerous. He's irrational, self-centered, and narcissistic. He isn't worth talking to because all he cares about is himself.

However, you like to find out for yourself.

Rafe leans forward, lowering himself to meet your height and his face is right in front of yours. An arrogant smirk rises to his lips, a challenge for you to answer. "Come on, princess, don't tell you came up here without doing a bit of research beforehand."

You recognize this as a facade, a way for him to hide his true feelings because it's easier to disturb others. To mess with people and not reflect on your own. You place a hand against the solid of his chest and gently push him back, forcing him to reinstate the safe distance established before. You continue back to your line of work.

Your little push surprises Rafe. It also intrigues him too.

"They said you weren't worth talking to," you say softly, avoiding eye contact as he follows your every move. "That you're dangerous."

He scoffs at the reveal, but it pinches his heart that his own sister would agree. He values her opinion more than he'd like to admit. Drawing out a noncommital shrug, pretending not to care, he declares. "They're right."

You hum. "Maybe."

He looks directly at you with a raised brow. "Maybe?"

Your eyes finally connect with his, "I'm still figuring that out." You pull back, setting the supplies back into his aid box. "Done."

You're about to take a step back when Rafe grabs your wrist, holding you in place. Your breath shortens, and you peer down at the place of your contact before raising your gaze to his.

"What do you mean by that?" He demands, his expression hardens but his eyes are pleading. That juxtaposition, between who he is and what he wants, is the exact thing you're trying to uncover.

You aren't afraid of him. Not like the others.

"I don't know," you answer truthfully, sweeping over his face, reading the conflict his features can't seem to contain. Rafe, you're slowly unraveling, is someone who puts his heart on his sleeves. He just hasn't had anyone who cares enough to look for it. "I just don't know if I truly believe that."

"Why not? The rest of the island does."

It's almost a spiral. An edge closer to it. You think it's because Rafe finally has someone who looks past his mask, his deception that the rest of the island gladly takes. They're afraid of him; he engineered that reputation by hand. But you've met your fair share of burnt souls to know they're all worth saving.

You answer him.

"Your eyes." You explain gently. "They say it's the windows to someone's soul."

"And?"

"And, Rafe Cameron, you're someone who isn't as heartless as you'd like the rest of the world to believe."

His grip loosens from your words and you take the opportunity to slip out of his grasp and settle your arms by your side. Rafe watches as you offer him a soft smile, one that reaches your eyes, and you're about to return to the balcony deck for some peace when he follows you into his bedroom.

"That's not fair." He denounces, halting your exit.

You turn around to face him. "What is?"

"You can't come in here and make those assumptions. You don't know shit about my life."

Rafe doesn't like to be read so clearly; to know that whatever he's trying to front isn't deluding you. For some reason, he needs to convince you that every rumor and gossip is true. That he is bad. The idea of it is embedded so deeply into the crevices of his self-worth, that he's having a hard time believing anything else.

Rafe expects your reaction to meet his fury, but the slope of your brows furrow together calmly. A delicate practice over years of training. "I never said I did."

"You're acting like you do."

You frown. "Now you're making assumptions about me," you refute, pointing out his hypocrisy, and a tinge of sharpness slips through. "You asked and I answered. You can't be mad because you don't like them."

"Then why?" He snaps, irritation spewing with his venom. "Who the fuck are you to make that judgment?"

"I thought you didn't want to hear my life story."

He huffs. Rafe finds himself at a crossroads. While you're standing there, with your collected composure, he feels like he's unraveling by the seams. There's something about you. The way you read through him like glass. He doesn't know if he likes it or not. If he needs it or not.

"Bitch," he mutters under his breath at your lack of compliance, and your breath hitches at the term, a flash of anger goes through you like a surge. He recognized that look; it was something he was all too familiar with.

You turn around, about to sprint for the exit once again when Rafe calls out. "Wait."

You don't want to turn around this time. Rafe had managed to make you break through your own facade, your own composure that you spent years trying to cultivate. Something about being in the same room as the eldest Cameron makes you regress into your formative years.

"Turn around."

Your jaw is slighted, but you try to hold it together. You loosen your features before you turn on your heel. You still don't think Rafe is the person he's trying to present to the world, and you doubt that he truly carries that much cruelty in one body, but that doesn't mean you have to be in the same room as him.

But something made you stay.

Rafe crosses the large space, standing just in front of you. His breath is hot against yours, his eyes sharp. You tilt your head, meeting his stare, but to contrast his intensity, your gaze is soft yet firm, your eyes unwavering. Just because you are kinder than he is doesn't mean you are weak.

"You know what it's like, don't you?" He murmurs gruffly, his voice straining at the exposure. This questioning also carries the weight of admission underneath; to bridge a kinship. "Or are you a liar?"

You're not. But no one's ever asked the questions Rafe is asking either. Not your friends back home or the new ones with the Pogues. They treasure your friendship but they don't understand your depth.

"No."

"No, what?"

"I'm not a liar," you bite out. Rafe's mouth curls into a satisfactory smile, and he gets a glimpse of your real character. The true you underneath all that dignity. It's like his own dirty secret. "I know."

You saw through Rafe because you understood him. You shared the same sentiments. You groomed the same callousness. Every act he performs, you went through first. You can't point at his reflection without looking at the mirror yourself.

But you're a bit different. You learn to control it. You discovered that all that anger was something else. Hurt, pain, injustice. You take it all and put it in a box, caged behind thick chains and hard locks. Never to be touched again. Rafe takes it out to the open, free to play. You may come from the same origin but you take two different routes.

However, Rafe sees you much clearer now. To know you can understand him, see through his perspective, and filter out his incoherent thoughts. That's something he'd never experienced before in his life.

"The voices, anger, and impulses?" His voice shrinks, eyes searching yours. You hesitate before nodding once. "You get that too?"

It comes out when you're most hurt. "I do."

He feels like can breathe for once, to not feel completely isolated from the rest of the world. Rafe always feels off, like something is wrong with him. Nothing can be explained; nothing is allowed to be explored. Even when he sought therapy, his father denied his request. He thought he‘d be forever alone in all this.

He steps forward, closing in the distance until there's only an inch of space separating you. But even that feels too big. Oxygen stuck in your throat, Rafe connects his gaze with yours to whisper. "You're like me, aren't you?"

You swallow hard. You didn't realize understanding someone could be a reflection of your own damning soul. You don't know if it's a good thing. "Yes."

His pupils are dilated and nearly pitch-black. His breathing shortens, and his gaze pools with desire. You feel it too. Your heart accelerates beneath your ribcage, your stomach knotting with want. When Rafe leans forward, about to capture your lips on his, you ready yourself to let it all in.

But you're a bit different.

You turn your head away at the last second, his contact coming to your cheek.

"I'm..." You exhale, squeezing your eyes shut. "I'm with JJ."

The world stills on its axis, and you feel the gravity of it beneath your feet. You slowly peel your eyes open, only to find Rafe having pulled back, his hand, midway through the air to hold your chin, closes into a tight fist.

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes swimming with regret.

The look on his face is heartbreaking because you know him in parallel, you know what he's feeling. You take a step back, for your sanity or his, it’s unclear. All you know is the distance was safe. Until it wasn't.

"I should go." You whisper.

Rafe says nothing as you pad your way across his room, slipping out of the door. He remains motionless in the same spot, his jaw set, his fists clenched by his side. The adrenaline pulses return through his veins.

Fuck.

It takes a minute to gather himself. Hearing nothing but the throbbing bass beneath him, pulsing through the floor. His heart is wretched, his stomach full of nausea.

Rafe returns to the balcony to pull away from his room, the place where you had been, and he steps closer to the ledge. Everything in his mind is too quiet; sterile and white-screeching. He doesn't know how to fathom this change.

His blue eyes search across the lawn and he easily picks you out of the crowd. He knows you well now. Those brief, fleeting moments attached to his soul are permanent memories.

You rejoined the party with Sarah and the rest of the Pogues, while JJ saunters over and throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close and whispering something in your ear. You smile and laugh, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

When you look up, you find Rafe already watching. His eyes are set on yours, unmoving, and the intimacy of his gaze strikes something deep. You had to turn away to preserve yourself.

Rafe slowly comes to his understanding on his own. He never had someone who understood him, much less in such a short time. You unravel him behind gentle stares and quiet observations. You knew him because you knew yourself, and he doesn't want to lose that. He doesn't want to lose you. He can’t. 

So, he decided.

You weren't his.

But he's taking you anyways.

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 2)

Part one here

Okay, so that's how I think the pre-creation scene and Gabriel's arc connect to Aziraphale's choice. I also think the ineffable bureaucracy speedrun exists to prove totally different things to Aziraphale and Crowley: Aziraphale loves that they can love each other but notes they have to run away to be together; Crowley sees this and immediately thinks "hey, we can do that too!", forgetting that running away is not a solution Aziraphale has ever been interested in. It's the mentality of an individualist vs a group-oriented mind, and neither of them is necessarily wrong, it's just that their priorities are different and they HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT, which they don't.

Continued analysis under the cut:

3. Let's take the Job minisode. Why include it? We already mentioned that it proves Aziraphale remembers Crowley as an angel, since he mentions it. And he believes Crowley is the same person he always was, and that he doesn't want to harm Job's crops or animals or children. Crowley tries to convince him he's a Big Bad Demon who is all in on this assignment, but fails utterly to kill even a single goat, soooo... Aziraphale comes to the conclusion that he knows what Crowley wants. Alert! Alert! This is a big problem! Crowley says, "What do you know about what I want?" Aziraphale: "I know you." Crowley: "You do not know me." But because Aziraphale got it right this time, he goes ahead assuming he'll always get it right, which is a crucial failure when it comes to the final reckoning. He doesn't ever ASK Crowley what he wants, he just assumes. When you assume you know what someone wants, you usually assume their priorities align with yours... he couldn't be more wrong about that. The Job minisode sets up this dynamic for them, and they never really manage to change it.

The other thing happens at the end of the minisode. Crowley acknowledges two crucial points: 1) he's lonely ("But you said it wasn't!" "I'm a demon. I lied"), 2) he doesn't think Aziraphale would like Hell. Aziraphale DOESN'T like Hell. Aziraphale hates Hell for what they've done to Crowley. He doesn't see Heaven as innocent or benign, but importantly, Heaven has never tried to hurt Crowley directly. They never threatened his safety. They never tortured him (as it's heavily implied that Hell did). Fast forward to the last ten mins of season 2: Aziraphale excited to tell Crowley that he can be an angel again BECAUSE: he never has to go back to Hell. They can never hurt him again, not the way they did before. And he doesn't have to be lonely anymore.

Last point before I leave Job: Crowley has the chance to cause Aziraphale to Fall, here, probably. ("I lied to Heaven to thwart the will of God!" "You did, but I'm not going to tell anybody. Are you? ...good, then nothing has to change.") He doesn't take it. He doesn't want Aziraphale to be a demon. He loves Aziraphale as he is. "Angel" as an affectionate. Aziraphale certainly doesn't use "demon" as a pet name for Crowley. I think they set up this scene to contrast the final one, and show how deeply hurt Crowley is that Aziraphale suggest he change.

4. Moving on to Victorian Scotland. This one confused me at first. I was delighted that they brought back the "the lower you start the more opportunity you have to rise" dialogue from the book, but apart from that I didn't really see the point of it. It seems like the statue of Gabriel and the fact that he and Beelz ended up at that pub in the present were more or less coincidental.

The point, I think, is actually not the girl, but the doctor. He's a person who is trying to do good by working in a system that's deeply flawed, and engaging in questionable moral practices for the greater good. (Cadaver dissection is still an essential part of medical school. You need dead bodies to understand living ones.) He shows Aziraphale a tumor he removed from a child who died, and Aziraphale clutches it to his chest. The camera zooms in and lingers to tell us that this is a guardian through and through. He wants to protect people. He wants to do good with every fiber of his being.

To Crowley, it's enough to just "be an us" with Aziraphale. He doesn't really want anything more than that. That's an issue! For one thing, it fosters unhealthy codependency, and for another, Aziraphale would never be happy without the opportunity to help and protect people. It's an essential part of who he is. Metatron knows that, and he plays Aziraphale like a fiddle. The doctor showed Aziraphale that you can make a difference even in systems that are flawed, and even if you have to do things you'd rather not do. Aziraphale doesn't want to go back to Heaven, but he truly thinks he can change things; thinks he can be a guardian with some real power. In his mind, that's the right thing to do.

Last thing that happens in Scotland: Crowley saves a soul from Hell, arguably, by preventing a suicide. He gets in Big Trouble. Whatever happened to him downstairs resulted in him coming back up, leaning on a cane, and asking Aziraphale to give him holy water. Go back and watch that scene knowing what we know now about the Victorian minisode. Ask yourself how Aziraphale must have felt. He likely blamed himself for what happened, because if he hadn't meddled then they never would have been there in the first place. He knew where Crowley was, and why he was there, and he had to sit with that knowledge for years. He desperately wants Crowley to be safe; is perfectly willing to push him away to keep him safe-- which is what he does do, the minute Crowley gets back.

Now think again about what Metatron offered him. A chance to keep Crowley safe forever. He'd never be harmed again. Aziraphale is going to take that offer, no matter what else is asked of him. He's shown over and over again that he'll sacrifice his own happiness to make sure nothing happens to Crowley. And he'll do it without talking to Crowley about it first, because he is a moron who doesn't know how to use his words. Leading Crowley to assume that Aziraphale doesn't love him. The idiot angel is doing it all out of love, but because he doesn't make himself clear Crowley doesn't know that.

Part 3: Maggie and Nina, and their roles as mirror couple/ Greek chorus!

[heyhoeudoin]

LOYALTY BUILT FROM LOVE

"I will always be by your side."

pairing: senku ishigami x fem!reader

words: 5.4k

genre/s: fluff, mystery, storytelling in the third perspective (s1, s2)

warning/s: she/her, swearing, ambiguous/not direct ending

synopsis: there is always someone next to senku, all the time.

masterlist ; times senku talked about you (part 2)

a/n: i've been wanting to do something similar to my bakugo fanfic, "Indebted to you" for a while now, and i finally thought of one.

also woah, i posted... revolutionary!

ever since senku arrived at the newfound kingdom of science, he's always had someone next to him

that someone is you

you are never too far from senku

and senku is never too far away from you

when kohaku met senku under that log, that's when she saw you the first time

at first she didn't question it, thinking that you might've just not been there when she saw the fight, but after observing you and senku

she then changed her mind and thought it was strange that she didn't see you

the way the two of you worked together was mesmerizing; efficiently done in silence

she could see that the two of you have some sort of special relationship with that silent communication

you reminded her of her sister; almost princess like with the way you carry your knowledge and demeanor

that impression quickly changed when you flipped ginro and kinro to the ground when they tried to attack senku

it happened so fast that you were just a blur in the corner of her eye! you were faster than her and you took them both out with a single hand

at that moment she knew not to cross senku

she wasn't even sure if she could defeat you

she almost pities the long-haired man

when gen appeared, you didn't recognize him, but he had recognized you

of course he did

everyone in japan knows who you are and anyone who doesn't is living under a rock

he was confused on why a person of your caliber is acting like a servant

maybe for survival, but he's sure that you'd be able to survive on your own

but then he started observing the two of you and this master-servant relationship seemed normal on both end

it made him curious on just what exactly your relationship with senku is

his curiosity skyrocketed after he overheard a conversation between you and senku

gen stood at the bottom of the hut after you and senku climbed up. he was lucky enough that you didn't spot him (well, that's what he thinks).

"so," senku spoke. "do you know him?" then asked. there was a pause. gen thinks you might've gave a non-verbal answer. senku chuckles. "of course, i didn't think you would. he's just some tv show mentalist."

gen rolled his eyes at that, but agrees with what senku said. it would be very shocking to hear that you know of him. "so he's a psychologist?" the first words he heard from you.

"yeah," answered senku. "he wrote these magazines that some of the club talked about some times. it would have questions like "if you could only save one, would you rather save your mother or your partner?" how illogical is that?" he scoffs.

this time you chuckled at him. "but senku," you interrupted. "you do understand just how useful he is, right?" gen felt a chill run up his spine as his whole body tensed up. your light tone immediately changed to a more penetrating one. it almost feels like you're reminding senku of your authority.

"yeah, yeah, i know, and don't use that tone on me. you know that shit don't work," senku replies, dismissing your tone like it was nothing! and to which you giggled at in a playful manner. "so, your assessment of him?" he then asked.

"gen is like a stray cat; give him something to eat and he'll stay," you answered with smooth confidence. "sooner or later he'll ask you for something in exchange for his loyalty." you let out a chuckle. "isn't that right, gen?"

he quickly walked away and didn't look back

maybe you were the one to plant the seed in him

maybe it was senku with his fast-paced bringing back the modern world (and his charisma)

or maybe it was the both of you

but whatever it was, in the end you were right

gen became an important member of the the kingdom of science

although he still wants answers about the two of you

there's two stories that ruri likes out of all hundred tales

she loves sharing them the most

after all, it's the only two love stories from it

number ninety-eight: loyalty built from love there was once a girl who had everything everything but happiness the people around her always worshipped her like a god it made her feel lonely and dull but then she met a boy a boy who knew of everything everything except who she is she talked to him... she argued against him... she laughed alongside him she made him smile.... they were friends they were inseparable but then she felt love he didn't like love she was afraid he became distant she sought after him he stopped seeing her she went to him it was silent then she talked... then he shouted... then they confessed they were in love her love shined through the things she did for him loyalty knows no bounds when you're in love

number ninety-nine: learning to love there was once a boy who found everything interesting everything except love he thought it was illogical and he didn't want to feel it but then he met a girl a girl who can do everything everything except how to feel he talked to her... he fought her... he laughed with her... he smiled at her they were friends they were inseparable he felt different with her he didn't know what it was it scared him he tried to push her away she stayed he ignored her she confronted him it was silent then she spoke... then he screamed... then they confessed they were in love his love was seen from the way he treated her love wasn't so illogical than he thought he did

there was no names mentioned in the two love stories

ruri wished the founder of the village had included the names

maybe it did but was forgotten through time

kohaku didn't really care about her own romances

but if it's other's?

then that's when she's interested

she could never forget the scene she saw between you and senku after the grad bout ended

the placed turned quiet as the realization seeped in. the winner of the grand bout is senku which means... "the new village chief and the husband of the priestess is the winner of the grand bout, senku!"

"well, this is a pain in the ass," senku says as he stuck his pinky into his ear. "so i just have to marry ruri and the whole village is mine, right?" he approached ruri. "i'll do it then."

from the corner of kohaku's eye, she saw you hurriedly walk away with a tightly closed fist. you're actually walking away without senku. that's the first time she ever saw you go away from senku.

she turned back to senku who's staring at your retreating figure. he turned his head back and demanded, "wine! bring me wine!" then after that, it all happened so quickly. senku divorced her sister, took the wine, and ran back to the kingdom of science, dragging kaseki with him.

once they arrived, senku left towards the laboratory where you were, gathering the materials to make the sulfa drug. kohaku watched as you ignored senku. he reached up and flicked your forehead. the two of you talked, rather fast paced with how fast the two of you exchanged words.

senku gently reached out for you hand, bringing it up to his lay on his cheek. he turned his head and kissed your palm.

kohaku's eyes widen in shock.

it looked like you laughed and tackled him into a hug that almost caused you both to fall. you stepped back as you brought your hands up to cup his face. you spoke a few words, then brought your face down to his forehead, giving it a gentle yet light kiss.

kohaku's jaw slacked in shock.

she remembered being flustered, shocked, and confused from the sudden public display of affection the two of you showed

it changed the way she sees the two of you

she always thought that you were like a bodyguard for senku, but also good friends

but if that's how you two always act when you think no one's watching?

maybe the two of you aren't just friends

at first, homura went around spreading the fire to the village

then all she saw was black the next

when hyoga revealed that he was just a distraction, the fire wasn't as big as he planned it to be

in fact, he never planned for homura to be carried in bridal style by someone he didn't expect

did senku revive you? why would he revive you? wait, how did he even find you? your place is no where near where they are right now

it doesn't make any sense

but for now, he'll retreat

he'll surely be beaten by you in mere minutes

chrome admires you and senku, everyone could see that

senku taught him many things about being a sciencer and you'd teach him "life skills"

the two of you work so well together

there are times wherein he watches you and senku work in the lab and it would always leave him in awe

how can the two of you work that well and that fast without any talking?!

are you also a science user like him?

but senku said you weren't so that made him slightly confused

it became even more confusing when he saw you beat kohaku in a spar for the grand bout

just who are you?

and why are you so good at everything?

it reminds him of something but he can't remember what exactly

then he saw something between you and senku that he can't help but make assumptions from

senku turned away from the group after experimenting with the bamboo filaments. "damn it," he cursed out. "bamboo filaments are just fundamentally too weak for vacuum tubes." your shoulders dropped as you looked at senku in worry.

"i don't get science, but bamboo is too weak, is that right?" kohaku spoke up.

"what do we need?" chrome asked with desperation. "if we need something tougher, i'll go find it!"

"no..." senku turned around, showing his pained expression. "there's nothing better in this age."

kohaku and chrome gathered the baskets of rocks that he collected and placed them out in the open for anyone to look through. from the news that senku needed something other than bamboo, the villagers who were still awake gathered at the kingdom of science to help.

chrome turned to call for senku, but he hesitated.

you stood next to senku and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. he turned to you with eyes that chrome can't explain as he placed his hand on top of yours. you brought your other hand and took hold of his hand that was on top of your other one. you guided his hand to the side of your lips and placed a kiss on his palm.

chrome's bulged out of his sockets in shock. his face feeling a bit flustered.

you slowly went down his arm, leaving a trail of kisses. you stopped at his inner elbow and turned to his face. chrome thought you were going to kiss senku, but instead you left a peck on his cheek. you spoke a few words to him and he let out a small smile.

chrome knows that smile

it's the smile that he only gives to you

he never understood why that smile felt different from all the other smiles and smirks senku gives

but from what he just witnessed

maybe the two of you hold a special bond that he should've noticed sooner

it was senku's birthday

the entire village gathered at the kingdom of science

ruri stared at you from afar

you watched as senku was guided towards the newly built watch tower (observatory)

it was the first time she'd seen you not go after senku

after all, the two of you were inseparable

it reminds her about the two love stories from the hundred tales

you started walking away from her line of vision. ruri watched as you walked towards the watch tower as the main group of the kingdom of science left. she could see senku climbing down as well, then approached you. you immediately took his hand in yours and placed the other on his cheek. you spoke a few words then leaned down, giving him a tender yet short kiss on the lips.

on the lips.

on the lips.

AND HE DIDN'T PUSH YOU AWAY!111!1!!!

ruri doesn't remember what happened after that

she was too flustered over the sudden public display of affections the two of you shared that it was the only thing stuck in her head for a while

although, she now hopes that her two favorite stories were based off of the relationship you and senku hold with each other

if only

the first time kohaku, well, anyone, saw you cry was when senku's father relayed a message to you (instead of his own son)

"senku, it's you, isn't it?"

"—nah, you don't need that dramatic father-and-son crap, do you?" senku cackled from that. "but y/n better be there standing next to you like she always is." it was the first mention of you from the record. "i know rebuilding japan will be your priority, y/n, but i also know that you'll stay by senku's side to rebuild the world. take care of him for me, y/n!"

from the corner of kohaku's eye, she saw you raising your hands up to your face, covering it. she saw senku move his arm that lays on your lower back. it looks like he's comforting you.

something then happened that kohaku can never forget

it'll be embedded in her head for so long

kohaku walked towards senku about to call him out, but stopped mid walk. senku stood next to you; both of your backs facing her. he turned his head to look at you. you turned your head to look at him. a few words were exchanged. he raised his hand and gently held your chin. he pulled you towards him and gave a short peck, but then you took hold of his collar and smashed your lips back onto his.

...

kohaku paused for a second. "senku!" then decided to just call the scientist out and continued with what she was going to tell senku either way.

gen was about to go up the observatory when he heard you and senku having a talk

"hey, senku, how would you feel if i..." your question trailed off, hinting at something that seemed like only you and senku know about, or you did something non-verbal.

there was a pause; senku probably thinking over his reply. "but i thought you like playing this game?"

they were playing a game? at this time? gen thought to himself, confused.

"of course i do; it amuses me. this game can only be played a few times after all. i'm only asking because i thought it'd be my turn to do it," you clarified which didn't really make any sense to gen at all. what you said got rid of the image that you two are playing game. just what the hell are you two talking about up there?

there was another pause. "just come up already. what do you want?" it was senku calling him.

kohaku was never afraid of you

why would she be?

you're no enemy

"senku, let me make something clear," kohaku called out. "homura's movements are exceptional."

"gymnastics," says senku. "it's a skill that doesn't exist in your age. y/n can do them too." he jerked his head to your direction you.

"we won't be able to capture her unharmed, but i could behead her with my sword. am i free to kill her?" a serious question kohaku dropped. yours and senku's eyes narrowed at her.

"kohaku, have you ever killed a human being?" you asked kohaku, now standing in front of her. kohaku opened her mouth, but you raised your hand up. "of course you haven't—i know that—and you'll hesitate when the time comes, but, please, kohaku," you called her name with a shaky tone and a hint of guilt that she never heard from you. "never offer yourself to kill another human being. you need to keep that morality with you, it's what makes a person human."

kohaku understood what you said

but she was left with questions that hung in the air, afraid to be asked

were you surrounded by death through killing?

or were you the one killing?

she really wouldn't dare ask

gen knows just how formidable the people around tsukasa are

but the thing is the kingdom of science has you

and he kind of wants to brag about that

"i'm sure you guys know how strong tsukasa is, but it's not just him. the people around him are formidable as well," says nikki through the phone. she then revealed another of tsukasa's allies being someone of great hearing.

"ukyo?" senku asks, turning to gen.

"he was a sonar operator on a submarine," explained gen. "he's got insanely good hearing. that's why tsukasa woke him up."

"good hearing you say?" you piped up. "what a useful thing in certain situations. what are the chances we could get him to our side?" you asked senku with a carefree grin to which he just fondly smiles at.

it was then gen realized something after your comment. "y/n-chan, is it true that your family are...?" he trailed off, not sure how to ask and afraid that you'd be offended from him bringing up rumors about your family.

you understood what he was asking, but all you did was chuckle making senku sigh. gen smartly decided not to push any further. he also took your ominous chuckle as confirmation.

"wait," called nikki. "y/n?"

gen smirked. "yes, nikki! we have the l/n y/n on our side! tsukasa and his army may be formidable, but we have the most formidable on our side," he boasted proudly. "as everyone in japan knows, no one can ever beat a member of the l/n family."

you smiled knowingly, feeling a sense of control and pride at gen's comment making senku sigh once more. "can we stop feeding her ego?" he comments

"y/n!" screamed taiju, both as a calling out and a greeting. "are you taking care of senku?!"

"i am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," commented senku with a deadpan.

you howled out a laughter. "of course i am taiju. are you taking care of yuzuriha?" you asked back.

"yes i am!" he answered confidently to which you laughed fondly at.

gen's plan was to just brag about you

but he was not expecting to get something interesting out of this

he thought yuzuriha and taiju didn't know about you

but they do

which just brings him more questions than answers, honestly

when could they have met you?

actually now that he thinks about it, when did senku meet you?

when magma came back after escaping the hands of ukyo, he also relayed the message that chrome got abducted

kohaku immediately wanted to barge in and take chrome back

and she could never forget the humbling moment of when you instantly stopped her

"chrome's been captured by the tsukasa empire!" exclaimed suika in a fits of worry and panic.

"well, what's the plan, twig?" demanded magma towards senku.

a serious look on the scientist's face as you straightened your posture up, standing next to him. kohaku frowned then ran off with her sword in hand.

"kohaku?!" screamed ruri. "she's not going to help him by herself, is she?"

"she's so quick to act," commented kaseki.

"stop kohaku!" kokuyo commanded, pointing in the directed his daughter took off.

ginro looked at the former village chief in aghast. "but how?! there's no one in this village who can catch up to kohaku-chan!"

oh but there is someone.

"y/n." with one simple call from senku, you had already appeared in front of kohaku, disarmed her of her sword, and pushed her against the ground.

all in three seconds.

she was right from the start

she could never beat you

it really is a good thing you're on their side

of all the people he'd expect to be on the other side of this stone world call

he never would have expected you

in fact, ukyo never expected to to talk to you at all

but here he is

being reassured by you, of all people

"—if you promise to produce zero casualties, i'll cooperate with you. but if you kill even one person..."

senku starts cackling at his request. "sounds great! i'm in." gen shrieks at this. "no problem. we've said—" senku turned around to see your hand on his shoulder. he immediately moved away for you to stand in front of the microphone.

"i do not know what kind of person you are, ukyo, but you are naive to think that a war would not have any bloodshed." he freezes. he knows that voice... he knows it too well. everyone in japan knows it too well. "however, i know how senku is. i know that his plan from the beginning were to have zero casualties, and if that's the plan, then i assure you that there will be no bloodshed at all."

"that's gonna be a pretty tough battle!" exclaimed gen after your declaration.

ukyo believed you

he believed you immediately

he had no reason to doubt you... or senku

especially when you supported him that confidently

he feels relieved to know that you're not on tsukasa's side

if you were

then the ground would've been red

tsukasa never expected there to be a phone in the grave of senku

he never expected for some of his allies to turn against him

he also didn't believe hyoga when he said you were revived

but maybe he should've believed him

but at the same time, what good would it be if he had believed hyoga?

tsukasa is sure that no one can beat you

not even the strongest high school primate

"i can save everyone with this paper airplane dynamite," says senku as the nitroglycerin covered airplane exploded upon impact at a tree.

"what the hell was that?!" stammered ginro.

"anyone caught in that would be gone without a trace," commented kinro.

kohaku stared in awe at the leftover the explosion made, then smirked smugly. "human strength is laughable in comparison to the power of science."

senku laughs. "we made it just in time. you held out well, battle team."

"the kingdom of science has just completed dynamite! it has the power of ten billion megaton joules," gen boldly gave out a lie. senku glanced at him calling out for his bold ass lie to which gen defended that senku sucks at negotiating.

"whether i parry it or smack it down, it'll explode. there's no way to dodge a large blast." tsukasa hums. "yes, it's true that we're out of moves, but that would surely cause collateral damage and kill many people. senku, you're incapable of abandoning people. you would never sacrifice yourself either."

"well, well, it looks like we're both stuck. this isn't a victory; it's a stalemate," says senku. "in your eyes anyways." he moved forward and held onto another nitroglycerin covered airplane. "did you know nitroglycerin is y/n's favorite?"

tsukasa froze at the sudden information drop. so it was true? of all the people, why would you be on senku's side? in fact, why were you at this side of the country at all when the petrification happened?

"y/n, no bloodshed remember?"

tsukasa looked behind him to see you standing there with a knife against his throat. he didn't even hear you nor sensed your presence. is this the power you hold as a member of the l/n family? "are you going to take revenge, senku?" he asked.

"no, of course not," senku deadpans. "let's negotiate, tsukasa."

throughout the entire negotiation, you did not move one bit away from his neck

tsuksa knew of your abilities, but seeing it in person was a different experience

he had one question for you though

why do you let senku command you like that?

"what reason do i have to believe you?" he asked senku.

"all you have is my word. i don't lie when it comes to science," answered senku, cooly. "is that not enough?" tsukasa heard you softly squeal at the sight of senku. does senku really have you wrapped around his finger that quickly? no, that wouldn't make any sense. unless the two of you share some history together?

"no, that's plenty."

this would be chrome's first time watching someone get revived from petrification

instead, before that could happen, he revealed some information that he thought was common knowledge

it wasn't

as senku was about to pour the revival fluid, taiju stopped him. "wait senku! mirai-chan's naked," exclaimed taiju as he poked senku's eyes. "no! you can't revive her now!"

senku writhed on the ground in pain, covering his eyes. "here we go again with your absurd nonsense," he managed to let out. "we're in an emergency, in the stone world! who cares if you're buck naked or if your peepee's showing?" he raised his hand up, rubbing his eye to soothe the pain, then removed them showing his teary eyes. "you really like this plot twist, don't you? we'll figure it out once she wakes up—"

"but if it's y/n, would you be okay with it?" senku snapped his mouth shut at taiju's rebuttal. he turned over to you, who's standing next to him, to see a smirk growing on your face. he could already feel the headache coming from this small tease.

you raised your hand and casually revealed, "actually he revived me naked, so..." heads turned to senku who flinched at the sudden movement, all of them looking shocked (sans kohaku, she's actually mad).

"senku!" kohaku roared, drawing her dagger out.

"what's wrong with that?" asked chrome, breaking the tension. kohaku turned her head to glare at chrome who flinched at that hostility.

"chrome-chan, it's bad manners to see someone naked without their consent," informed gen, treating chrome as if he was an innocent child.

"no, i know that!" exclaimed chrome. "but they bathe together, so they see each other naked all the time," he then revealed. heads turned once again to senku, but this time to you as well to which senku sighs and you laugh at.

"and just how do you know that, chrome?" senku asks, then lets out a disgusted face. "don't tell me..."

"no!" denied chrome immediately. "i notice you guys heading towards the springs together a lot and y/n would be carrying a bamboo basket of like these cases and i also saw soap in it, so i assumed that you two would be taking a bath... together." he then realized the implications of what he revealed and turned red.

god bless yuzuriha on making a set of clothes for mirai, breaking the tension.

many things were revealed that night

under the curtesy of chrome

he never thought too deeply about the things he know, but saying it out loud made him realize some things

it made gen and tsuka understand just what of relationship you hold with senku as well (kind of)

and so the question changes

how did you and senku get to that point?

"senku..." chrome called out. "we're missing some dynamite," he shared with a serious tone.

upon hearing that you quickly scanned the area and noticed who are missing, and bolted off. a few minutes later, an explosion rang out, then you heard gen screaming out to the villagers to hurry up.

you snuck up on hyoga, bloodlust accidentally slipping which made him dodge, but barely. a line of blood forming across the back of his shoulder blades. he raised his spear and instead of aiming it at you, he aimed it at mirai. you moved forward, blocking the attack on hitting her. the spear pierced through you, but not as deep as hyoga wanted since you were able to stop it by holding onto it.

"so you're not impenetrable," he mused.

"go fuck yourself," you spat.

you broke the spear in half then pushed it through you, popping it out from the back. you spun around, catching the bloodied half of the spear, then turned right back around, using the momentum to throw it towards hyoga.

"get out of there! tsukasa! mirai!" you heard senku cry out from the distance. "y/n!" then you heard him let out this blood curdling scream.

you lost balance from the powerful throw causing you to slip and fall. tsukasa ran over. hyoga blocked the spear with the other half of it. tsukasa managed to catch you, holding onto your wrist. hyoga quickly picked up the bloodied upper half of the spear and aimed it at tsukasa. you swung yourself forward, your feet flat against the mountain wall and pushed yourself off, pulling tsukasa down with you. hyoga missed his stab, grazing the side of his torso instead. the sudden pull made mirai slip from the edge, but luckily senku caught up and pulled her away from the edge. however, hyoga then kicked senku off the mountain to which he jumped down afterwards.

senku's hands trembled as he held the wound, putting pressure on it. you could feel his fright against your skin, in fact, you're just as frightful as he is. the both of you can't lose each other. he can't lose you; and you don't wanna leave him. tsukasa kept himself busy as he fought against hyoga, but anyone with eyes could see that tsukasa is affected by the cut.

"you need to work with him, senku, i can survive for a few minutes," you managed to tell him as you reached towards your wound, holding it down with two hands. "you two can end this fight just as quickly as it started. we both know how bad water and blood is inside of a punctured lung." your breathing increased.

"save your breath! y/n, please..." senku lowered his head, laying it against your forehead.

"then go and help tsukasa already," you forcefully told him with gritted teeth.

hyoga managed to get his way over to where the two of you were. he kicked you away from senku. "y/n!" he screamed out.

anyone could tell that senku was distressed

it was the most obvious thing

you've been unconscious for barely a few hours and yet he's become restless

the people who know senku well enough are shocked at this newfound side of his

then again at the same time, they weren't shocked

everyone knows just how much you and senku care for each other despite not knowing just what exactly the relationship the two of you hold

(there was assumptions of it, but that's all they were: bold assumptions)

"senku, you need to rest," advised gen, looking worried. "you took a beating as well."

senku shook his head. "what's the point of sleeping when i need to think of a way to save y/n," he replied, pacing in the cave room you laid in.

taiju and yuzuhira glanced at each other, worried for their long time friend. this was not the first time this had happened. they hoped it would be the last, but here they are yet again, watching senku worry upon hours for an injured you.

"senku, do you want to sleep in here?" yuzuriha asked softly. senku looked up at her and nodded, no words to be said.

"i'll get a spare bed for you senku! no worries!" exclaimed taiju as he ran off.

"has he ever been like this before?" kohaku asked, going straight to the point. gen and chrome walked closer to kohaku and yuzuriha.

yuzuriha's lips drew into a thin line, unsure if she should share. she knew about the game you and senku liked to play, after all, she was one of the first victims. "only when y/n becomes reckless and injuries herself, but this time it's worse. it's hard to heal an injury as severe as that in the stone world."

"it's obvious," mentioned gen. "i may not know what relationship they have together, but if my assumptions are right, then it makes sense. usually senku would've thought of something by now, but he hasn't. his mind is being blocked by anxiousness, panic, and worry. he needs to calm down."

"senku..." you weakly called out which caught senku's attention immediately, and crouched down next to you. "get your ass to sleep." the others were taken aback at the first sentence you spoke after you woken up from a short coma.

senku let out a huff of amusement. "of course that's the first thing you say," he mentions.

"you know me so well, love." a weak smirk formed on your face. if anyone picked up on the sudden affectionate name, they didn't mention it. "but seriously though, how can you save me when you can't even think straight. you know me well, but i know you just as well, senku."

senku furrowed his brows.

"you need to accept what you need to do, senku."

masterlist ; times senku talked about you (part 2) a/n: it's not as ambiguous as i want it to be, but i thought the ending seemed fitting

[g-xix]

🔞Locked In | ArthurTV

Based on ArthurTV in Locked In S2 on Footaslyum! Summary: Y/n is set the challenge to ignore Arthur for a full day. Too bad that when Arthur realises this, he does everything to try and make you acknowledge him again... Wordcount: 7.3k aka LONG

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

"Y/n to the storeroom please"

"Hey sugarlips!" You plopped yourself into the leather seat and smiled at the camera and tripod in front of you. 

The Locked In Footaslyum reality show had been hard, that was for sure.

Surprisingly though, one week away from your phone wasn't what had you all that worked up. No, instead it was ArthurTV. He'd been ever so nice at first, when he'd popped up in your Instagram DM's with a "Hi! Saw you're going on Locked In asw :)". And from there you spent your last few days with your phone only messaging Arthur. You woke up? You checked your phone to reply to Arthur. Midday? You had your phone on vibrate to alert you for when he replied. Night-time? The two of you were facetiming in your beds, giggling and both secretly ecstatic you'd be spending two weeks alongside one another. 

Then when you entered into the house, Arthur was first to spot you across the kitchen island, and ran over to wrap you in a hug. The other housemates thought it was just initial, friendly banter. But you were weak in the knees just hugging him. And anyways, soon enough the housemates started guessing at least one of you had a crush on the other.

Afterall, Arthur seemed to always be at your side. If you and Steph were doing your makeup, best believe Arthur was sat at the other spot on the makeup table just waiting there and listening. When Arthur was trying to get better at football with Jamie and Jokeman, you were sat in your puffer jacket on the outdoor sofa watching and occasionally passing the ball back to them. And whenever one of you had to go to the storeroom, best believe the other was piggy-backing them there. 

"Y/n, you and Arthur have been exceedingly close." 

"Is it that obvious?" You questioned with a little giggle. "Hey, we might be close but nothing could get between you and I, Sugarlips, don't you worry."

"I know." She bluntly responded, drawing a laugh from you. "Do you like Arthur?"

"I like everyone in the house, Sugarlips."

"You know what I mean."

You laughed as you could only imagine her rolling her eyes. "Only if he likes me as well I suppose."

"Interesting." Came the enigmatic voice's reply. "We have a challenge for you, Y/n."

"Tell all, Sugartits."

"Please just Sugarlips." She stopped you, making you snort. At least your Scottish mate would be happy you tried. "Your challenge is to ignore Arthur for the whole of today for three points."

"ALL OF TODAY!" You exclaimed with a gasp.

"That's right."

"What, so no doing anything with him."

"You must treat him like he is not there at all."

"Bloody hell that's a whole ask and a half."

"Do you accept your challenge, Y/n?"

"Gah... I... How many points did you say it was?"

"3 points."

"Fuck it, let's do it."

Arthur was already there waiting for you when you exited the store room. He wore one of those fitted white tees- the type that clung to his biceps and broadened his chest, hanging looser around his waist and giving him such a sexy look along with his black cargos, it was a task and a half just ignoring him and walking past him there. You could almost imagine the look of shock on his face as you passed him, pretending you hadn't noticed him and walking up the stairs- flashing one of the recording cameras a you-did-this look before continuing out of the corridor just as you heard Arthur call "Wait for me then, Y/n!" meaning that as soon as you turned the corner, you sprinted across to the bathroom, locking the door behind you to give yourself a moment to recollect your thoughts without Arthur on your back.

Listening closely, you could hear Arthur padding slowly, pausing at some point- before padding up the stairs and into the bedrooms. You allowed yourself to press your back to the door, leaning your head back and squeezing your eyes shut, groaning and wondering how the hell you were meant to do this challenge.

"Y/nnnn..." It wasn't even midday and you were sat across from Anisa and Anastasia doing your makeup, when you heard Arthur's voice looming from down the corridor. Anisa and Anastasia giggled, giving you a look as they normally did when Arthur came looking for you, though they were surprised to see that instead of having your usual big grin on your face, you just did your mascara as though you hadn't heard a thing.

"There you are, feel like I haven't seen you at all today." You refrained from turning around and looking at the oh-so handsome face of Arthur behind you, printing some dewey blush onto the back of your hand instead. 

A tension was raised upon the little makeup table as Arthur's words were met with a blank expression and non-existent response. 

"Have I put too much blush on?" You broke the silence, looking up from the mirror to the girls in front of you, who stared back with open jaws and looks of confusion. Anisa was the first to close her jaw and snap herself out of it, shaking her head before responding.

"It's more than your usual but it suits you, I like it."

"Let me have a look-" Arthur was persistent in trying to get your attention, and when met with no response as you did your best to ignore him, you felt the material of his cargos brushing against your arms as he squat down behind you. Your peripherals showed Arthur's face behind you in the mirror as you searched your makeup bag, doing your best not to look and acknowledge the man behind you- though as you found your pen and your eyes flicked back to the mirror- they momentarily met Arthur's big doe eyes before flitting away- causing a wide grin to light on Arthur's face.

A wide grin you wished you could've been looking at.

"Looks perfect." Arthur commented on the blush, still smiling cheekily as he snaked an arm around you shoulder, travelling across your collarbone so that his fingers brushed your opposite shoulder as he held you in what felt like a possessive way. 

He didn't make it any easier for you to ignore him, the way you could feel butterflies dancing around your stomach and your skin tingling from his touch, hairs raising on the back of your neck as you could feel his every breath land coolly against the side of your neck. 

Being in a house with eight other room-mates was not the place to start getting hot and bothered over a boy, though as you felt Arthur's other hand place softly against your  waist, thumb caressing the soft skin of your stomach exposed by your cropped top whilst his palm rubbed up and down sensually slowly, you could feel your thoughts turning hornier by the second.

"I know what you're trying to do," Arthur whispered into you ear just as Anastasia and Anisa started getting back into their own conversation, not noticing the closeness between yourself and Arthur as pressed his lips to your skin. You gulped and starting unscrewing the lid of your highlighter pen, trying to ignore Arthur's husky voice in your ear. "Good luck tryna ignore me, but just know that I won't make it easy for you..."

Arthur pressed a chaste little kiss behind your ear, patting your hip as a little goodbye before getting up from behind you and departing down the stairs as though nothing had just happened.

You exhaled a breath you didn't even realise you'd been holding.

At some point, Sugarlips gathered you all to the living room sofa, turning a screen on and taking you through comments left on recent videos. 

You lounged yourself besides Steph, resting your head on her shoulder and waiting for the others to arrive. Anisa, Millie, Spuddz, Johnny- they all slotted through the door one by one, and lastly , Arthur came and (to your disappreciation), plopped himself right besides you on the cushions.

One of his arms fell over your shoulders instinctually, though as the comments were read out one after the other, his arm seductively slowly trailed from your shoulders down to your thigh. It was painful, the way you fixated on that soothing touch of his thumb rubbing slowly over your outer thigh, biting your lip and glancing down just momentarily to catch the sight of his large hand almost enveloping the width of your thigh from the tip of his pinkie to his thumb. You felt as though you were discovering new kinks, as the way his hand looked so grand on your thigh had your pupils dilating, thoughts dipping into the forbidden horny vault as your felt his fitted "manwhore" shirt brush against your arm as he leaned close.

"Don't get let me distract you," Arthur whispered into your ear quietly, the cruel smirk dripping from his voice as he taunted you, his breath across your skin making you shiver, feeling his lips brushing the sensitive skin. "You just focus on tryna ignore me, hm?"

You kissed your teeth, not wanting to entertain him and yet having to pretend as though he weren't there regardless. It became easier to ignore his presence as his thumb slowed and slowed until it eventually stopped, just resting against your thigh and sleeping, letting you find yourself back in the moment and laughing with the rest of the housemates as you came back in touch with reality until-

You choked over your word as you felt Arthur's hand slip further across your leggings, his palm resting on your inner thigh and shocking you- turning your face bright red and making you instantly choke on your word, silencing you with shock as your splutters coughs, though nobody seemed to notice it over Darkest's yells of laughter, allowing you a moment to recover. 

Eyes squeezing shut, you couldn't help but flicker your gaze over at Arthur for just a moment, his expression poker straight with just the slightest curl of his lip- amused by your suffering- amused by the way you were like putty in his hands. 

His hand was so dangerously placed. His palm fell over that soft skin ranging from the uppermost bit of your thigh down the inside, fingers spread facing down to your knee so comfortably it was like they belonged there. So sinfully entitled. Bright pink heat rose to your cheeks at the thought of how close he was to you, how one slight fraction of a movement would have his hand on something completely different and have you feeling some other way completely... It felt so wrong, having him like that whilst you were sat by nine others- being recorded for the whole of the internet to see, too.

You were squirming internally, wanting to tell Arthur to stop, get off and leave you be- but you were torn between fulfilling your challenge of ignoring him and your genuine need to have him closer. To tell him to touch you instead. Entertain him. Tell him to do something, and see whether he'd follow it up and play the game with you- who would be first to back down?

And as though Arthur could read your mind, you felt the tip of his pinky which was closest to the seam of your leggings ranging upwards, scaling the see-through mesh region of your leggings and closer to your core.

The only difference between yourself and Arthur though, was that whilst Arthur seemed quite up for a casual bit of exhibitionism just to see you fail your challenge- you were not about to let him fuck you on the Locked In sofa with eight other people watching.  Even if that would set a pretty fuckin unbeatable legacy-

You emit a little gasp as you felt Arthur's pinkie slip perhaps more than he'd meant it. He was barely millimetres away from his finger tips touching the uppermost of your legging's inseam- and you jumped, gripping his wrist firmly enough to make it begin glowing white from the contact- stopping his movements and pinning his wrist in place. You'd jumped around to face Arthur- give him a long, hard look for the first time all day. 

His eyes were completely blown out, brown irises pushed out by feral black pupils, eyes wide in a way you'd never seen them before. A bright red glow was present across either cheek, connected across the bright of his nose which was blushed also- his lips slightly parted as though he was struggling for air, simply running on animalistic desires and needs. 

Even he seemed shocked at the fact you'd acknowledged him- even if it were only for a moment, before both of your heads snapped back to the screen as-

DING! 

"Arthur and Y/n are my absolute faves omg, istg these two have sm chemistry but also sexual tension either they come out of this house FWB's or married atp"

It took a moment for the shock of Arthur's previous actions to mull over and be replaced with the words Sugarlips read out. And then register those words... 

The girls squealed and leaned over to kick your legs with titters of told you! and laughs, whilst Johnny and Darkest just cheered and slammed Arthur on the back as a well done. 

Arthur looked proud despite the even brighter red glow of embarrassment across his cheeks, whilst you just collapsed against Steph's side, using Steph's body as a shield for your rudolph-red face, leaning against her for a moment longer than you really needed to just so to fully recover from whatever the Hell had happened within the last ten minutes. 

Retracting from Steph as the attention shifted back to the screen, the next comment already being read out, you looked back at Arthur's face.

He glanced at you, lips curving into a devious smirk. "You're welcome." He grinned maliciously, drawing a huff from you as you turned around to face the screen and purposefully crossed your leg over the other- swinging one thigh over the other and away from Arthur. 

"Y/n, please report to the storeroom."

You plopped your ass on their confession seat. "He's an absolute wanker you know, Sugarlips, been testing my patience out."

"We can tell. He is very touchy today."

Your ears went bright red. "Whatall have you seen, sugarlips."

"His hand was around your shoulder at the seats. And Steph's body blocked our view of his hand, but it looked like it was on your knee."

Oh thank fuck the cameras didn't see what happened. You mentally breathed a sigh of relief. God bless Steph and her beautiful body. 

"We also have seen you look at Arthur and talk to him momentarily."

"Whoa whoa whoa, sugarlips you gotta understand that was necessary, he said he'd poo on my bed tonight if I didn't."

"Do you expect us to give you a second chance?"

"Well, if you're offering one sugarlips, those three points would be much appreciated."

"Hm... We'll see how you do for the rest of the day, Y/n."

You grinned, knowing that meant she agreed. "Cheers, Sugarlips, I'll do you proud."

"Of course you will, Y/n."

Just as you got up to leave, you felt the need to double back to Sugarlips.

"Oh, and please give Arthur something to do. Otherwise he's just constantly on my back."

Turns out the distraction Sugarlips provided to Arthur was insufficient. 

The chessboard they'd gifted Arthur was entertaining for twenty minutes, in which time you'd decided to begin making some sort of dinner, and Arthur had already won 4 games against the other house members.

The pot sizzled as you added the soy sauce into the mince, the garlic, shallots and red chilli following as you double checked the rice also to make sure everything was cooking just fine. Given that within the first few days the house had ran through the entire supply of pot noodles, everyone who could actually cook without transferring salmonella had gone on a rota for who cooked each night.

Tonight was your night, and although most times whenever someone cooked the rest of the house would join them and entertain them- you'd asked to just be able to cook alone so that you could just let your mind declutter after the day. Plus, you wanted to make a Thai bowl for everyone, and that required a little bit of mental effort to just remember how exactly that was cooked. 

Questions whizzed around your head as you separated the mince out using the wooden spatula, keeping your mind so occupied that you didn't realise someone else had joined you in the kitchen until it was too late. 

A gasp was drawn straight from your throat as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, squeezing you and swaying from side to side in what would've been a sweet, domestic way- had it not been for the way you already knew who it was hugging you from behind.

You weakly shrugged those arms away, trying not to let butterflies form as a result of his touchy loving. You couldn't tell if you were relieved or slightly despondent as Arthur really did pull away. 

"I'll get plates out," Arthur hummed, reaching to open the draw above your head and easily managing to do so as it swung open without touching a hair on your head.

For the second time within the minute, a gasp left your throat as Arthur's body came flush with yours from behind, pressing up against your back as he leaned over to find ten china bowls in the cupboard above your head.

Though the action of Arthur pressing his body up so close to yours you could feel the heat radiating through his shirt was enough to get your cheeks reddening- the feeling of something beneath his cargos pressing into your lower back gave you the realisation that you weren't the only one getting unmanageably horny within the locked in house.

As Arthur pulled away a moment later, hands laden with china, he made eye contact and passed the most subtle of winks that had you rolling your eyes and looking for the videoing camera within one of the four corners before locating it and mouthing I hate him, all the while fighting to turn your face a more normal colour.

Of course, Arthur caught your reddened face with a cheeky grin, only returning for more as he claimed to "help set the table", feeling the need to place his hands on your hips to move you out of the way of the cutlery drawer. 

And that didn't help the rudolph-red face.

Thank God Spuddz had gotten too bored of all the chess and wandered into the kitchen, spotting Arthur and bounding over, holding Arthur beneath one arm and chatting to you with the other half of his brain about how Arthur must've been cheating with the chess board ("I'm telling you- he must have a bishop shoved up his bu-)

You allowed Spuddz to remove Arthur with a sigh of relief, finishing up the Thai cuisine and plating up equal sized portions in each bowl before loading them onto a tray and handing them out- joining Millie on the sofas and enjoying watching her playful bickering with Jamie whilst you ate your rice. 

And it was nice to see everyone appreciate your cooking, as the girls begged for you to move in with them just to try more of your cooking, whilst Darkest, Johnny and Jokeman declared you "wifey" material and gave Arthur pointed looks. 

Whilst it was all well and fun eating with your housemates and listening to the banter that was contentedly thrown from person to person, you found yourself getting up to stretch after you'd eaten- deciding to excuse yourself to take a shower.

"I'll be about half an hour in there, if you wanna grab your stuff to brush your teeth downstairs be my guest." You informed the room before heading up, grabbing a towel and your shower kit, heading into the bathroom and letting the water run.

Nobody appeared to be interested in getting their toiletries, thus you took great pleasure in slinging your towel over the shower door and stepping into the glass door confinement and allowing the warm jets to run down your body and cleanse all the soapy suds that trailed from your neck down your body and into the drain. 

It was calming, and a bloody good place to just get a moment to yourself whereby you knew you could go unbothered- and you got a nice good look at yourself in the mirror as you dried yourself down with the towel you'd initially brought in for yourself- even getting out the moisturiser to nourish your skin with. 

It was only when you turned around to the bare radiator, you realised that you had left your clothes outside. In a little bundle on the edge of your bed- you could practically visualise it there, see it almost tauntingly sat on the edge of your bed. 

Your head fell into your hands, your digits barely muffling your groan as you realised you'd have to run to your bed in just that towel to try and grab the clothes and get back in without anyone seeing you. Or at least none of the boys; all the girls were fine, at least.

Peeking through the keyhole, it appeared nobody was even there. And you weren't going to start second guessing yourself and leave enough time for someone else to walk on up and enter in the bedroom meaning you had to wait any longer to get your clothes.

You pushed the door handle down firmly, one hand gripping the towel which was knotted at your chest to hold the it safe around your body...

Marching with a quick pace- you barely made a step outside of the bathroom before you slammed into a body which sent you recoiling with a gasp. Yet they only closed the gap between you, shutting the door behind them with a backwards kick as your back hit the sinks leaving you no exit as he leaned in close.

Arthur's eyes had you unable to look away, the blaze within them making knots form in your stomach whilst the smirk that rested on his face seemed to bring that same feeling down to your core. 

"Been having fun ignoring me all day?" He cocked his head and asked with a devious grin. 

"Yeah and I still should be ignoring you." You managed to break the eye contact, focussing on a wall instead. Yet by not being able to see Arthur you only became more wary of his touch which only seemed to bring a redness to your cheeks as you realised how vulnerable you were in just a thin towel with a flimsy knot at the top. Fuck, you could feel goosebumps lighting across your skin as you realised that the towel barely reached your thighs and your weren't even wearing panties beneath! Arthur appeared to notice all that embarrassment on your face too, and seemed to take great satisfaction in it.

"Oh c'mon, you know damn well they can't hear you in here..." You turned back to him and looked onto his shirt, realising he'd also unplugged his mic from his tee shirt. And his grin only widened as he watched you notice this and glance upwards to meet his eyes, a glimmer of realisation and maybe even desire in your eyes. "I think we have some unfinished business, Y/n."

"And what would that be?" You tried to match his confidence with a cocky grin of your own, having realised that nobody- not even Sugarlips would be able to see what happened now. "Was it trying to fuck me on that sofa downstairs? Or grind until we're fucking on the kitchen counter..."

"Didn't realise you such were an exhibitionist," His fingers found your jaw, thumb gently padding over your lips whilst his index and middle lightly pushed against your chin, indicating for you to tilt your head back- allowing him to close the very last bit of space between the two of you- his lips delicately brushing your jawline as he mumbled "But why don't we start here, for now..."

His lips were feather light, his stubble brushing gently across your tender skin as he mumbled those words before pressing a kiss at the prominent bone at your jawline, his touch delicate despite the passion behind it, causing butterflies in your stomach as his gentle touch trailed down from your jawline to your lower neck. 

Your eyes fluttered and closed as Arthur caught you by surprise, gasp leaving your throat as he bit down onto a sensitive spot between your neck and collarbone which made your heartrate shoot up, lips fall between your teeth in a futile attempt to try and muffle a moan as Arthur's mouth formed a suction around the skin, ravenously leaving a dark purple mark which he pressed his tongue flat onto once more, pressing until you were whimpering and clenching your thighs together subconsciously- the whine in your voice only turning Arthur on as you felt his lips curve into a smirk atop your skin.

"Can I take this off?" He looked up, two fingers hooked around the knot of the towel between your breasts, the only thing holding your dignity together. Yet you could feel your 'dignity' dripping between your legs, and couldn't restrain yourself from nodding your head, whispering "Fuck, yes" and relishing in the feeling of Arthur's long, talented fingers unravel your towel in a mere second, dropping to the floor and exposing you.

There was almost a feeling of shyness, being this vulnerable to him, and you looked down- your arms crossing over your stomach loosely, subconsciously shielding yourself, though Arthur seemed to hate the idea as-

"-No-" His hand grabbed your arm, pinning it back besides your body so quickly a gasp left your throat as you looked to catch Arthur's expression. Wholly mesmerised. "Fuck, you're so beautiful..."

That queued another blush to rise to your cheeks, biting down on your lip and looking to the floor, yet you weren't given an opportunity to bask in the praise as Arthur's hands snaked down to your tits, large hands encompassing the soft flesh as he fondled both boobs simultaneously, thumbs teasing over the sensitive buds and making your legs shake as you let out a shaky breath, trying not to moan, considering you had not clue whether anyone would be able to hear what was happening from outside if they just so happened to wander into the bedroom...

Only when Arthur's head lowered to one titty, did you realise how defenseless you were though, as a unexpected moan was pulled from your throat, back arching from the sink as his hot mouth was placed around one nipple, his tongue swirling before flicking the hard nub with such experience you inadvertently started grinding down onto his clothes leg which rested between either thigh all too invitingly. 

"A-Arthur-" You managed to hold your moans to whine his name. He pulled away with a hum in response, his hands following the curve of your sides down to your hips where the space between his thumb and index fit perfectly in your hip dips. You almost got lost in how fucking intoxicating the feel of his hands over your hips was- controlling your movements and handling you as he turned you around so that you faced the mirrors, looking at him in the reflection and doting on how infatuated he looked as his eyes scanned down your body, his eyes lingering at your fat ass. Your responsible thoughts all came back to you though as you felt Arthur's hand glide over to your peachy skin, fingers closing around a handful of ass before you opened your mouth again. "Arthur- we shouldn't be doing t-this..."

You watched as his lips quirked, curving into a sinful smile that only made your thoughts juxtapose your previous words.

"That's funny." He hadn't moved to meet your eyes yet. You just stared at his reflection wonderingly, only feeling as his hand slowly moved across your skin, his other hand finding your lower back and you unintentionally arched your back at the touch, exposing your core to him which caused a low chuckle to come from his throat. "You say we shouldn't be doing this, but your body seems to feel otherwise-" A gasp fell from your throat, your neck rolling back as you felt Arthur's hand between your thighs, his thumb tracing up between your folds until he felt touched your clit- the bundle of nerves shooting fireworks all over your body as he just touched it only a fraction. 

He chuckled at your response to even the slightest of stimulation, your thighs clenching and clamping around his hand with the little friction he gave. His fingers only kept working, however, as he traced his middle and index finger back up from to your slit, collecting your arousal on his fingers and only using it to lubricate his motions as he slipped his fingers into your pussy, curling them and making you let out a loud moan, closing your eyes and biting down on your lip after as you realised how loud you were. 

"Because we don't have to do this if you 'know' that we shouldn't..." Arthur's words were taunting, borderline cruel as his words told you one thing, yet the fingers that slid between your walls told you another. "You want to stop? You just tell me and I'll stop touching you..." He was cruel - he knew you were too drunk on the feeling of his digits pushing into your pussy, finding that pleasure spot and making you want to cry out as you felt him brush it with every stroke, his thumb pairing with the motion and rubbing agonising circles on your clit.  

Your hands gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles glowing nearly as white as the marble as you tried not to let out stupidly loud noises. And as though Arthur could read you mind:

"Don't be too loud, hm?" He was scorning you yet again, taunting with sarcasm dripping from his voice in such a sexy way you could feel yourself quite literally dripping onto his hand between your thighs. "I'd say you'd hate if anyone knew what we were doing, but if you wanna fuck on that sofa downstairs next, then I really don't know how you'd feel..."

You didn't humour his mocking, your eyes already rolled to the back of your head, hips inadvertently rocking back and forth, following the movement of his hand so that you could feel a knot forming in your stomach - your orgasm echoed in your actions as you felt yourself clench just the slightest bit around his fingers- 

Before he took them out of you.

You were dazed, so close to orgasm and so disappointed as you opened your eyes, frowning at Arthur in the mirror before seeing his unbuckling his belt behind you...

Not so disappointed after all, you rocked your hips back and forth, easing away the draining feeling of the lost orgasm and instead looking at his reflection in the mirror and waiting for him to take his cargos off...

"Fuck, do they have condoms here?" 

"No need," You smiled innocently. "On the pill."

Arthur groaned at the way you said it, his hand disappearing under his cargos to stroke his length under his boxers, feeling over the rock-hard boner, tip red from the blood rush and precum smeared sinfully over the tip. 

Feeling his cock running along your folds, collecting your wetness on his tip as he directed his cock from your clit all the way back to your hole had you in a state- loud moan leaving your throat as you threw your head back.

"Go on then, tell me how much you want this," That devilish grin had returned to his face as he waited for you to talk.

"So fucking bad, Arthur..." You didn't even bother with being subtle about it, the way you were so needy for it, you'd completely lost your filter and were completely ravenous for Arthur. 

Feeling him push the tip into your pussy was enough to have your mind completely broken with pleasure, the stretch already so good... Yet Arthur didn't push in fully as you stopped talking. "Keep going," Arthur encouraged you to speak with a devilish grin. 

"Need you so fucking bad Arthur, I want you inside me..." You could feel him sinking furthering into you, his cock filling your pussy up inch my inch and having you completely wasted as you kept babbling. "Please, fuck, fuck me Arthur..."

Arthur had bottomed out as you said the last bit, waiting a moment or so and only just allowed you to adjust to his size before he pulled back slowly before thrusting right back inside, your whole body jolting at the feeling, a raw moan leaving your throat as you felt his tip brushing you G-spot instantly, making your legs feel jelly when he was only one thrust deep.

He felt so good, the stretch, the angle, the way he hit that spot - your head was bowed, whole body shaking as you felt his hands on your hips, manhandling and snapping your body back by the hips to match his thrusts, only reaching deeper into your pussy and making you nearly cry from how good it felt. 

One hand moved from your hips, reaching up and grabbing your hair in a bunch and pulling your head back so animalistically you almost got whiplash (and yet you would've been willing to thank him for it), the motion making you groan as he pulled your head up so that you were forced to look into the mirror. 

Arthur looked fucking Godly. His hair spiked and messy, jaw slack and eyes half lidded, that gorgeous body that looked as though it had been chiselled by Zeus itself... 

A gasp fell from your throat, pushing you forwards as you felt him hit somewhere completely new, taking you with shock and complete euphoria as you felt stars clouding your vision. 

"Ugh, fuck, Arthur- I think..." You had to bite down on your lip to prevent the absolutely filthy moan from escaping your lips. Arthur got the message though, and he didn't seem that far away either- the way his thrusts grew sloppier by the second.

"Same, fuck, c'mere gorgeous-" He could feel your legs giving out already, and didn't hold himself back in wrapping one arm around your leg, raising it so that it was by your side as you leaned your bodyweight back onto him- his other arm holding your body against his own whilst he snapped his hips up to thrust into you. He could practically feel how close to your climax you were, and grunted "Say my name- fuck- say my name when you cum-"

You were body had completely faltered, unable to support itself under the buzz of fruition that had each individual neurone in your body racing with impulses running at the speed of light, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter by the second until you were seeing stars in your vision, thighs shaking from the muscles tightening so much- your whole body filling with euphoria as you followed his command and chanted his name "A-Arthur, ohmyfuckinggodArthur!", your orgasm rushed dopamine through your whole body as you came - hard - black spots clouding your vision as you felt the pleasure drain from your head to the tips of your fingers...

And just as you felt that pleasure turning into just the slightest of painful overstimulation- Arthur's cock still thrusting into you as he chased his own climax, his athletic arms practically picking you up and manoeuvring your body so that he could fuck himself into you to get his own end- he let out one loud groan, his head burrowing into the crook of your neck as you felt him filling you up, reaching his own orgasm and painting your insides with his hot white climax, his lips leaving one final hickey against the already marked skin of your neck before gently lowered you onto your own (shakey) legs.

There was a peace in the air.

A strange sort of mutual serenity came, having shed all of that sexual tension and weeks of hopeful talking and finally, finally just fucking and resolving all of that built up traction.

"Fucking finally," You were the first to break the silence with a grin, turning around so that your body faced Arthur's smiling as you looked at that beautiful face of his.

"What, you've been wanting this for a while, too?" Arthur asked jokingly, though it was obvious he was really being genuine with what he said. 

"Yeah, considering you've been teasing me all day it's no big shock that I've been wanting this." You rolled your eyes, Arthur laughing himself. "I think I need another shower though..."

"Am I coming?" Arthur quirked a brow with a hopeful smile.

"No, you just came in me a minute ago," You rolled your eyes at him, stalking over to the open shower and turning the tap on before turning around with a wide grin and beckoning him over despite your shitty joke. "Come on- get in here, you big idiot."

With no need for any more convincing, Arthur joined you in the shower with a laugh- flicking water on your face and attacking you with full-power setting on the shower head for a few minutes, laughing as you defended yourself with the loofa before eventually stopping him by just pressing a kiss to his lips to distract him for long enough before you took the shower head back and started attacking him with it. 

"You know, I didn't realise this showerhead had such a high pressure setting..." You smirked, turning it back onto the high pressure and admiring what good use it could go to.

"I can use it on you." Arthur only doubled down far too quickly, making you laugh as you turned it back to a normal setting.

"Why don't we save that for tomorrow, hm?" You proposed jokefully, yet Arthur's enthusiastic nods told you that maybe it wouldn't be a just a joke after all.

What could've been a simple, five minute shower was drawn out into a fifty minute one, and when you came out giggling besides Arthur and you were met with Johnny sat on his bed. 

He sat far too smugly, arms crossed with a smirk and a knowing look, reminding you of his presence AND making you remember the fact you were in a house with eight other people, making a great heat rise to your face as all the giggles with Arthur fell to a deadpan expression, realising you hadn't been quite so mindfully of your volume just half an hour ago when Arthur was seven inches inside of you... 

Your face went bright red as you passed Johnny, hissing a you better keep your mouth shut to him before quickly walking out of the room in embarrassment, hoping Johnny didn't notice your limp, hearing his laughs from behind you which indicated that Johnny was not, in fact, going to keep his mouth shut.

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

Bonus scene!

"Guys, I've got a message! It says everyone to the living room!"

You all huddled on the sofa and awaited further instructions.

"Y/n was set a secret mission today." You grinned as some of the people around the sofa let out gasps at Sugarlips' words. Your smile at your friends slowly faded however, as you remembered what that challenge was.... And what you'd just done an hour ago. "Y/n's challenge was to ignore Arthur all day."

"I knew something was up with you at the makeup table earlier!" Anisa exclaimed, punching your arm and making you mumble a little something, cheeks beginning to tinge pink as you wondered whether Sugarlips knew anything...

"Y/n, can you guess whether you passed or failed?"

You groaned internally. Why the hell would she leave it up to you to decide? Did she expect you to admit what you'd done?

You looked over to Arthur for help, and he just had a hand over his mouth in obvious shock as well, though he let out laughs nonetheless. 

Your face was flushed bright red when you finally answered, and of course Spuddz pointed out- "Oi, why's your face like a lobster?" To which Steph hit him on your behalf, though Anastasia to your right gave you a shove and doubled down on Spuddz's question.

"Y/n, do you want to tell the house how you failed the challenge?" The wide grin was evident even in Sugarlips' voice as she asked the taunting question.

Anisa let out a little scream and Johnny burst out laughing all too knowingly- yourself cringing at Johnny's insider knowledge and forcing you to cover your face with your hands in pure horror, just wishing the ground would swallow you up in that moment. 

"Spilll then, tell us!" They all clamoured over one another, one of the girls shaking you by your arm, though you didn't look up to see them. 

"Look, c'mon, c'mon we can work this out guys...." Darkest hushed everyone around the sofa, taking on the role of Sherlock Holmes. "When was she set the task?"

"Probably at eleven like we were all brought in when we had our challenges." Jamie deduced.

"What did she do after eleven, then?" Darkest asked.

"Oo, that was makeup with me and Anastasia!" Anisa perked up. You raised your head with your eyes wide, watching as everyone began connecting the dots and fearing for their eventual conclusion...

"Then we had the comments read out where she was on the sofa with all of us..."

"Then the group challenge we were altogether, and she was on a different team to Arthur anyways-"

"And then cooking dinner... Wait! Arthur got up and went to the kitchen then, didn't he?"

"Yeah but she still ignored him there- I walked in and just saw him laying the table in there in silence..."

"Well, what then? That was just an hour ago wasn't it...?"

"Yeah"

"True"

"Hmmm..."

You hoped they'd all finish there. Reach decide their deductions were eventually inconclusible and finish up.

"Well, that's the end of that-" You tried to clap your hands together and end them, though Johnny couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he slipped-

"Then she went upstairs."

"Ohmygod and Arthur went up as well, didn't he..."

Jokeman let out a scream, getting up onto the sofa and pointing between yourself and Arthur with a hand over his mouth in shock.

"What? What? what happened?!" Everyone began exclaiming at him, not quite reaching the conclusion as fast as him. You could tell that Jokeman knew just by the look in his eyes, and went to cover your face for the third time of this evening, not wanting to even hear it as Jokeman yelled-

"HE'S FINALLY GOT SOME HASN'T HE?!"

That queued everyone to let out screams, yells, cries of laughter and response which you tried to shield yourself from as you pulled your knees up to your chest as well, burrowing in a ball as the girls shook you and cheered for you, noisily nattering besides you and throwing questions at you whilst you could only assume the boys had gone to pester Arthur.

You were practically crying into your arms, wishing the ground would swallow you up as you felt the commotion from the girls rocking the sofa beneath you- one whacking you with a pillow... Yet all you could think about was the countless number of views and clips this would get- not to mention the people that you knew were going to see it...

You looked up after a couple seconds, embarrassedly meeting Arthur with embarrassed eye contact. He grinned, offering an overdone wink with a pink dusting of blush all over his cheeks as he leaned to the right and slapped his palm into Jokeman and Darkest's, dapping them up with a far-too-cocky grin and laugh, making you roll your eyes and un-ball yourself as a grin began growing on your face.

Absolute prick, you thought towards Arthur, before looking to the camera in the corner of the look- pointing at it and grinning as you yelled- "THIS IS YOUR FAULT, Y'KNOW?!"

----------

CONRGRATS IF YOU READ TO THE END!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, TOO (SAY IT BACK!). Thought the best way to start 2024 would be with some ArthurTV smut, and I hope you can all agree.

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

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[stagefoureddiediaz]

We’ve been looking at this all wrong the entire time...

So my brain is a weird place that I don’t fully understand, but sometimes it connects dots and I figure something out that has been staring us in the face the entire time! Lets just say it explains so many things - right down to the very pointed use of tommy calling Buck Evan!

This all stemmed from me looking at colour theory and costuming for Buck and Eddie (and by extension Tommy) season 7 again, because I was going to try write the buddie costume metas for episodes 9 and 10 that I never managed to get done before we started season 8 I will hopefully get to those posts, but this post - while technically about Tommy and his costumes (yes me ant Tommy person writing a post on him I know!) it does also look at the costuming for Buck and to a lesser extent Eddie more widely across the season and what the colours used actually mean - getting some distance and some time on the season has been a blessing!

Im not going to go into it in detail, but, broadly speaking the show has given each character a signature colour - this doesn’t mean they wear it all of the time - but they do wear it a lot of the time and especially in key scenes - characters can have more than one key/ signature colour, and it can change and develop over time. We can ignore season 1 because it was a pilot season and very often shows won’t choose to establish a signature colour for a character (911 s1 is all over the place from a costuming perspective - because they had several designers working across the 10 episodes but since s2 we’ve had much more continuity with Alayna Bell-Price at the helm for most of it). So for example Athena’s signature colour is mostly black with white and khaki green also in the mix. She’s moved away from that subsequently - wearing less black and more white/creams but both colours are still staples of her wardrobe.

Eddie we all know mirrors Athena from a costuming perspective - his signature colours are also black and khaki green with some white/cream as well. The khaki green was much more dominant than the black to begin with - which played into his military past -  that had evened out on the black and khaki front whilst the cream had stayed fairly steady, but now we’re also starting to see a little bit more of it as well as some darker blues. this mirrors Athenas own journey t healing - the more she heals the less Khaki we see and the more white/cream - Eddie is starting to follow the same path from a costume perspective. 

Bucks signature colour has always been blue, but he also wears a fair amount of yellow and grey, so those are his three colours. He obviously wears a lot of other colours, especially white, but white has its own specific use in Bucks costumes that sits separately from his signature colours. 

We all know about yellow/ blue and green blue colour theory - I’ve gone on about it enough (especially yellow blue colour theory and its queer coding) and others such as @lover-of-mine have as well. Well both yellow/blue and green/blue continued to play out in season 7, I’m not going to go into them in too much detail - there are posts on my pinned post that cover that much better and I want to get to the good stuff (and I know you all do too!) 

We do need to remember that Buck and Eddie very very rarely wear blue and green in scenes together - if Eddie is in green Buck won’t be in blue, and vice versa - this is because of the ties to blue/green being Buck and Eddies break up colours - the colours they wear opposite their respective girlfriends when the relationships are ending. This is a little less set for Eddie - who actually wears white/cream much more when he’s ending relationships than blue or green - but the one time he has actively done the breaking up he was in green.

As I was starting to do a bit of work on the 7x9 and 7x10 metas, I ended up going back and looking over the Buck and Eddie costumes for the season as a whole, and how Tommy fit into all of that as well - as we’ve all been billing him as Eddie lite.

While I do still think there is an element of Tommy being Eddie lite, I don’t actually think that is what the show has been doing -that concept is a bit of a red herring. I’m sorry that this is likely to get a bit convoluted and wordy - but my brain is  still reeling and incoherent so bear with me - I hope it all makes sense.

Right this post is super long so the rest is going below the cut! I hope you enjoy!

Because I was looking for Eddie and Tommy parallels in the costuming for the season, I had been looking at the choice to put Eddie in red/black for his dinner date with Kim and Buck being in green for the scene at Bucks loft, and the fact that back in 7x04 Tommy had been dressed in the same colours - a red henley which was shot with black giving it a red/black colour way. I naturally started looking at the other Eddie - Tommy costume parallels - and there are plenty - lots of the khaki green we see Eddie in - playing into Tommys own military background.

These are Tommy’s scenes - where he wasn’t in uniform of some description (which is a good chunk of his scenes to be fair) 

7x04 

at the hangar - white tee, greenish stone coloured shirt and a tan jacket with stonewash jeans

at the court - light grey marl cut off hoodie and bright blue shorts

at Bucks loft - red/black short sleeve henley and stone wash jeans

7x05

at the restaurant -dark khaki green shirt (I would also like to point out the blue green colour theory here with the addition of tommy having a blue phone case - which is relevant later I promise!)

coffee meet up - light grey henley and navy blue hoodie with mid wash jeans

7x06

karaoke club - navy blue short sleeved henley

7x10

light grey marl tee and greenish denim shirt 

So what you can see from this is that besides the use of henley’s, the only time we get actually get direct reference to Eddies costuming is through the use of khaki green and his first outfit at the hangar. There is of course the direct parallel of the red/black colour way I spoke of before, but, beyond that if you look you’ll see that Tommys outfits actually parallel Bucks far far more. I would even argue the Henley’s are more similar to Buck than Eddie - because they are short sleeved and Eddies are invariably long sleeved.

Bucks colours are blue and grey - and so are Tommy’s - particularly in scenes that are 1-1 with Buck. What I’m trying to get at and will explain is that this has never ever been about Tommy being Eddie lite - this is all about Tommy being Buck - Buck’s subconscious if you will. (I know you all this I’m completely mad at this point - but stick with me!) I have a lot to say about all of this which will explain the why of it all and how we ended up here so we’re going to go through it Tommy costume by Tommy costume!

Lets start with the hangar scene - the most Eddie like Tommy looks throughout the entire season. this is very much intentional - this is about the red herring of it all, but it is also about Eddie (I’m not discrediting anything we’ve talked about regarding Tommy being Eddie lite etc - it is all relevant - but that’s what makes it such a good red herring!) and about Buck being an unreliable narrator. This is in part why we also still see Buck in his too short trousers and his white sneakers. This is his journey (the sneakers), but he’s still trapped in his old self at this moment in time - but aware that he doesn’t fit his skin anymore (as an aside I will be writing a post about Bucks trousers and their changing fit throughout the seasons at some point soon!)

Script wise the key lines are plentiful - the entire scene is full of double meaning. We get Buck stating that he is ‘happy where he’s at’ and Tommy’s response of ‘you’re thinking of changing things up’. viewed through the idea that Tommy is a version of Buck, this then plays out as an internal conflict - a battle about wanting what you already have - being happy with what you have, but also wanting to change things.

Eddie saying ‘you aren’t thinking of leaving us are you’ and Bucks response ‘I’m keeping my options fluid.’ Eddie needing reassurance that what they have isn’t going to change, while Bucks reply is about him not really being sure of himself - of who he is - keeping his options open because he’s figuring out if he wants to change - the line is said to and directed at Eddie so its about Buck keeping his options open about possibly changing their dynamic - becoming something more, even in the face of Eddie not wanting things to be different.  Tommy stating in this scene that Buck doesn’t need to leave the 118 to get certified to fly - that its something he could do for fun on his days off - becomes even more loaded through the internal monologue lens - Buck considering how he can stay at the 118 and have the joy, fun and benefits of ‘flying’ when he isn’t at work - that he could fly with Eddie (Eddie going flying with Tommy to do something fun and date like is a very literal visual metaphor for Bucks internal monologue - showing him what it could be like if he changed things up). There not being three tickets - only two is also important - its again a metaphor this time about how if Buck and Eddies relationship changes - it would only change for the two of them - it would become a relationship that doesn’t have room for another in it. When I say that’s about Chris not being involved it sounds really harsh, but the reality is Chris cannot be a a part of Buddie - he cannot be a part of something romantic. it isn’t saying Chris isn’t important or central to Buck and Eddie - simply that he cannot be a factor in a romantic relationship - that has to be just between Buck and Eddie alone - its kind of about Eddie (and also to a certain extent the same is true for Buck) not being able to hide behind Chris anymore when it comes to Buck.

Fundamentally its all tied back to his death in season 6 (we even get the being struck by lightening reference from Buck just to bring that aspect home) and subsequent resurrection and rebirth  (post linked on my pinned post if anyone wants to read it!). we have to keep at the front of our minds that Buck has died and that is still playing on his mind - its still influencing who he is and who he is becoming and it was all throughout season 7 - even if it wasn’t obvious or stated.

The basketball costume is actually the one that has always stood out for me - Its the most Buck outfit of all Tommys outfits. The bright blue shorts especially. 

So in that scene, which we know is supposed to read as being from Bucks view point, not only are we getting golden haloed super happy bouncy Eddie - Eddie the way Buck sees him -  but Buck is also projecting and seeing Tommy in the place he (Buck) has always existed in. It’s a visual representation of what Buck talked about with Maddie and Tommy replacing him in Eddies life.  Its unreliable narrator buck in visuals he’s seeing Eddie replacing him with Tommy - occupying the same places Buck has and more - from the calendar to the basketball court.

But that’s actually wonderful, because not only does it give us information on how Buck views himself (as expendable/replaceable) and how he thinks others view him - because if he thinks he’s similar to Tommy (which for a purely visual stand point he is - Lou looks more like Oliver than Ryan) but it also gives us information about the reality of how much Buck is actually intwined in Eddies (and Christophers) life - its telling us that Buck is in fact on Eddies calendar (and therefore fridge - fridge magnet theory for the win!) and how much space and conversation he occupies in the Diaz’s everyday life.

So he isn’t actually seeing Eddie in Tommy at all - he’s actually seeing the version of himself he doesn’t think he is but wants to be in Tommy. The version of himself that takes Eddie to vegas etc - that’s the Buck that Buck wants to be - the one openly flirting with Eddie and taking him on dates etc. That’s why the vegas fight is so seemingly ott (especially when you think about the fact Tommy and Eddie have known each other a week or so at most by this point) its the grand gesture Buck wishes he could be making.

All of this also makes Bucks ‘attack on Eddie’ more telling (it’s still the boy pulling the girl he likes pig tails in the playground concept) because Eddie is being receptive to all of these advances by Tommy - adding further weight to the Buck being jealous of and threatened by Tommy. 

Tommy is this version of Buck swooping in and doing all this stuff that Buck wants to be doing (subconsciously still at this point - willful ignorance be winning) but either didn’t know how to or didn’t know Eddie if would be receptive to. Remembering that this is all Bucks viewpoint of things its essentially Bucks brain showing him what dating Eddie would be like and Buck being Buck misunderstands what his brain is telling him (forever misunderstanding the assignment).

There is a second aspect to this and it ties into Tim’s comments about the hamster wheel Buck has a been stuck on and it being time he got off it - the hamster wheel is actually multifaceted and has more than one meaning. The most important is that the hamster wheel hasn’t ever been about his relationships or about the women he’s dating (or men now). The hamster wheel he’s stuck on is actually the fact that he’s built this strong relationship and family with Eddie and Chris - (you don’t find it son you make it) and its something safe and stable and predictable in his life. Getting off that hamster wheel is about being brave and moving that relationship - that family dynamic onto the next level - removing the platonic aspect of their family and making it a fully formed family for real - romantic love and all - so the ‘platonic’ family is the hamster wheel he actually needs to get off of. 

The other aspect of Tommy actually being Buck and the hamster wheel of it all is that hamster wheels are solitary pursuits - the implication is that Buck is the one standing in his own way - and coming back to the basketball game we see that played out in the moment where Buck tries to literally run through Tommy - only you can’t act out at yourself, and Tommy is a literal solid unmoving barrier and Buck won’t get past himself by just trying to bulldoze his way through.

This all then plays into the final Buck and Tommy scene of the episode - in bucks loft. I already spoke above about the red/black of it all, but now with the added concept of Tommy being A version of Buck things start to become more interesting. The red/black of it all is a warning (and the poker date red/black velvet suit and eddies red and black suit from s6 actually play into this as well!) - its dark romance - ‘forbidden’ dangerous romance or love. So for Eddie and his date with Kim that meaning is very self explanatory. The two season 6 suits are also fairly self explanatory - for Eddie again its the dangers of looking for romance that isn’t on your own terms and for Buck at the poker game its about the danger of falling in love with the person you are when you aren’t being truly yourself. Tommy being a version of Buck and this concept is a little more murky - essentially is about a similar thing to his poker suit - with a twist - its about the danger of seeing more value and loving a version of yourself that ‘used to exist’ as well as a version of yourself that you think will make you more attractive to others.

We do also need to Talk about Bucks costume here as well - the fact that it fits him almost perfectly - he’s in well fitted if slightly loose jeans and a navy shirt that isn’t tight with buttons not clinging on for dear life (to the same extent). The colouring is still on the dark side - so its not entirely positive - much in the same way that other scenes with buck in a dark navy shirt are moments where things go a bit askew for Buck (think the  taylor ‘I kinda love you for it’ scene from s5 as an example). The implication is that - before Tommy comes along Buck is at his most content with who he is - he’s fitting into his skin better than he has in a long while but it’s not perfect. This is key, firstly because of how the scene unfolds and secondly, because of how he is then costumed from here on out for the rest of the season.

I do also want to mention the yellow blue colour coding in this scene and that is mostly done through the lighting - Buck is in blue and the light behind him is always yellow - he is surrounded by yellow light. In contrast - Tommy is barely touched by the yellow light - not until Buck starts to figure things out - then we get him briefly touched by the yellow light - the rest of the time he is lit very cooly - which is in contrast to the warmth of the loft - and further plays into the idea of Tommy being a stand in for Evan - Evan who isn't loved and accepted in the same way Buck is - Evan who Buck needs to learn to love.

If we look at the script for this scene, it also fits in perfectly with the idea of Bucks internal monologue.  Tommy and Eddie being ‘buddie’s’ making perfect sense is a literal aside to the audience telling them that Buddie makes perfect sense - but it is more than that. This is where I have to bring up the ‘Evan’ of it all. I know a lot of us shudder with horror because of the fact Tommy only ever calls Buck ‘Evan’ and how both jarring and rude it is. How it shows how little Tommy knows Buck. We’ve always known it was being done intentionally. Well, if we view the use of Evan through the lens of Tommy being a version of Buck and things become clearer.  Because Tommy is basically the old version of Buck - the Buck who existed before he knew Eddie - before he joined the 118. And this is where the choice to bring back Tommy specifically for this role becomes a really smart one - because ‘Evan call me Buck Buckley’ was Tommys replacement at the 118. Tommy who has a problematic past that has never been dealt with on screen. This isn’t about the nature of the problematic past. This is the show playing on the idea of Buck’s software upgrades - before Buck 1.0 there was Evan, and using who Buck replaced at the 118 as a plot device to actually dig into Evan more so that Buck can deal with, accept and move on from Evan and become who Buck is meant to be.

Tommy saying he couldn’t replace Buck furthers this - because Buck cannot go back to being Evan - Evan can never replace Buck. invoking Christopher adds weight to this - because Chris never knew Evan - he’s only ever known Buck and Buck is ‘his Buck’ and irreplaceable. Tommy then stating his jealousy is about Evan feeling the lack of family that he grew up with - the recognition that as Buck he has made a family for himself - Bucks assertion that Tommy (Evan) was a part of it is valid - because without Evan Buck couldn’t build the family he has. The entirety of this conversation is about Buck choosing to ‘get to know’ his past (remember this is coming of the back of Buck crossing out the ‘LEY’ on his nameplate in s6 and his struggles with his parents acceptance in that season before the lightening strike), choosing to learn about Evan and embrace him as a part of Buck.  

Bucks assertion that he was ‘trying to get [Tommys] attention and it being exhausting’ is part of that as is the confusion Tommy expresses. The choice for Buck to use the word ‘exhausting’ - it’s Bucks subconscious trying to get his own attention - its his subconscious telling Buck that he’s exhausting himself by not listening to what his inner voice is saying. It’s of course a play on Buck being called exhausting by other people (and is perhaps why he doesn’t have the confidence to listen to that inner voice) and that also plays into the Evan of it all and how Buck views himself. Tommys confusion also plays into that - bucks own mind is confused - it was getting ready to ‘pursue’ Eddie but now we’re pivoting into what is essentially self love.

The continued bringing up of Eddie also makes sense with the contact of Tommy being alt Buck - because Eddie Eddie Eddie fills Bucks heart and mind - Both Evan and Buck recognise Eddies importance if not his full relevance in this moment. The resulting kiss then becomes less about Bucks bi awakening (I am not diminishing the importance of that in any way shape or form - its a vital aspect of Bucks journey) and more about Bucks decision to pursue loving himself - this ties into his statement ‘it wasn’t about me wanting to leave the 118 - it was about wanting to get to know you’ - its about Buck wanting to get to know himself - on the other side of his death and resurrection. It’s a continuation of his comments about Natalia ‘seeing him perhaps better than he sees himself’ - it’s about Buck starting to see himself better now he’s died and essentially been reborn and bout Buck now being in a place where he feels ready to confront that idea of being reborn and becoming someone new.

At the restaurant in 7x05 we have Tommy in an Eddie colour, but in a shirt that is much more Bucks style. There is also the green/blue colour play with Tommy stating Buck isn’t ready and Tommys ‘mismatched’ clothing bears that up - the play is on Bucks lingering confusion and uncertainty about what he wants - is it the Eddie side of things we’re pursuing the self love of Evan aspect we’re looking to explore? The entire scene is not just about Bucks first ‘date with a dude’ its also about Bucks fumbled attempts at self love - at not getting it right - its why Bucks outfit doesn’t fit him- why they’re now too big and baggy (I wrote about this in my costume meta for that episode - which like all the other costume posts can be found linked on my pinned post).  The innuendo about closets and Buck going into masculine bro mode is as much about his nervousness about being on a date with Tommy and being seen as it is about the fact that a man practicing self love is still taboo and so often met with derision - hiding that you are pursuing that is a kin to hiding queerness - at the start - until you get to a good place with it.

We side step into the Buck and Eddie loft scene briefly to look at Bucks confession to Eddie - I could write a whole thing on Eddies acceptance of Buck and its importance - but that is for a different post that isn’t already a million words long! what I want to mention in this scene is the why Buck can’t stop thinking about Tommy of it all - how it is essentially establishing the idea that Buck is starting to listen to himself.  He can’t stop thinking about Tommy because it isn’t Tommy he can’t stop thinking about it’s actually himself - Evan - in a learning to love himself and embrace who he is and was kind of way - all being done through a bi lens. it is essentially about Buck doing the thing he needs to do to be ready for a forever relationship with Eddie - which is love and accept himself - all of himself and acknowledging that to Eddie.

Buck switches back to better fitting clothes for the coffee date - and tommy is now dressed back in Buck colours and no trace of anything resembling Eddie in sight - making it clear that Buck has chosen to pursue himself. To get himself to the place he needs and wants to be first - the line about not knowing what it is he’s ready for but being ready for something is key - its a very self love line, but it also puts a very clear time frame on things - it makes it clear that Tommy is not endgame - because Bucks choosing self love and embracing and understanding ‘Evan’ isn’t his end game but a part of his bigger journey - a part of becoming who he needs to be to achieve what he actually wants - to get him to his endgame.

Then we have the Karaoke - brief scene(s). There isn’t really a huge amount in these scenes. But I do want to point out two things - the awkwardness of Buck and Tommys hug - and how that plays into the tentative nature of Bucks self love journey - and also Eddies behaviour towards Tommy - and the way it was very very clearly a lot cooler than we saw in 7x04.

We all jumped on the Petty Eddie train - and I agree there is an element of that. But - there is also the fact we are not seeing that scene through Bucks eyes - its through external eyes and we are therefore seeing the actual reality of Eddie and Tommys friendship - in that it isn’t this heightened date like - flirty new love type relationship - its simply two people who are loosely friends. Its remarkably normal and no threatening - only furthering the entire purpose of 7x04 being from Bucks viewpoint and Tommy being an alt Buck rather than an alt Eddie. It also therefore serves to further establish the Buddie of it all (but we all already knew that!). Tommy is still in Buck colours and the short sleeved henley is still something I would put more into the Buck costume camp than the Eddie one - especially in this season! 

The final Tommy scene and costume is the date at Bucks loft and the conversation about daddy kink. I still don’t like this scene (which has a lot more to do with execution and the script than the actual daddy kink of it all) but I am much more sanguine about it now that I understand what it is setting up.

Bear with me here I probably won’t make sense, but with the knowledge that Tommy is actually buck lite - a less good and developed version buck (Evan and in part the version of Buck that Buck himself thinks he is) the daddy kink scene actually becomes about setting up Buck addressing his past and his actual real daddy issues - because bucks past self sees his worth in those issues and without them it means both Evan and Buck have no worth. Buck confronting and dealing with them and choosing to forgive and move on means the end of Buck and Tommy because Tommy is no longer needed - he has served his purpose and Buck would be ready to start his future - Evan stays in the past and Buck completes his rebirth and closes his lightening strike arc.

Onto Bucks season 8 journey - Bringing Gerrard in to Bucks arc rather than the others who have far more connection to Gerrard now begins to make much more sense. Tommys past under Gerrard actually echoes Bucks past - in different ways and to vastly different degrees, but the parallel is there.  S1 Buck being a play boy and sleeping around and not treating women especially well (objectifying them etc) because of his own hang ups - is a pale echo of Tommy being closeted and racist sexist and homophobic under Gerrard. Like I said before - Buck is a pale imitation to Tommy here and that’s intentional (more in a sec) because once Tommy is under the wing of Bobby when he takes over the 118 we see him begin to grow and change. Buck follows the same pattern - Bobbys guidance pulls him away from his destructive behaviours and sets him onto the right path (Bobby is arguably the birther of Buck - Look I could write a whole thing off the back of my death and resurrection of Buck post about Bobbys role as God - the heavenly father - in Bucks life and how that is the overarching theme of Bobby and the show but I don’t have the time tbh!) to ‘redemption’.

Bucks behaviour is very intentionally not as bad as Tommys behaviour, because if Tommy is the plot device meant to essentially represent Bucks subconscious and how he views himself, then the reason we haven’t been shown Tommy atoning for any of his past sins and behaviours is because Buck hasn’t forgiven himself for his own. Buck is his own worst critic and will self flagellate to a ridiculous degree - and again with him being an unreliable narrator - he views his past indiscretions as being the equivalent of Tommys - therefore in his mind he hasn’t yet done enough to deserve absolution (Buck and Bobby being father and son in this as well!). 

Which brings me to s8 and the return of Gerrard and what Bucks arc is going to be (this is slightly incoherent and not fully formed - I’m still percolating!). Gerrard being central to Bucks arc - and Bucks push back is imo going to be about Buck taking a good look at himself and recognising/ facing up to and accepting his past. And that actually does come down to the daddy issues of it all. Because if Bobby is as good as Bucks dad - and allowed him (and his subconscious in the form of Tommy) to develop and grow - then Gerrard is Phillip Buckley (obviously a heightened more terrible version of reality in the same way Tommy is a much worse version of Buck) who parented Evan through apathy and taking the easy route - we saw Evan pushing back against Phillip in Buck Begins and being rewarded for it and thus establishing Bucks self destructive and self sacrificing pattern of behaviour. Acting out and getting hurt got him attention - so Buck acting out against Gerrard is this reduced and will ultimately have the same results just in an essentially more destructive way.  This is is a good thing - because this is about Buck recognising that he is worth and acting out etc is detrimental to him progressing as a person - its going to actively prevent his self love journey to flourish (and this is why in part I maintain my belief that Tommy is going to, if not encourage Bucks behaviour, then at least tell him to go along with Gerrard demands - for an easy life and also part of why I don’t think we’ll see a huge amount of Tommy - at least to begin with - until we get to a point where Buck is really motoring on the self love journey and getting to the point where he needs to do some pre break up face to face conversations that move him forward!).  It’s about forgiving and accepting his father for how Evan was raised - Bucks arc is going to be about forgiving himself and allowing himself to be happy, and he cannot do that if he doesn’t go through the Gerrard stuff - which is essentially a type of therapy. That’s also where I think the golf comes into it - it’s a metaphor for Buck building bridges, gaining understanding and accepting his past with his father - the metaphor of the driving range being the idea of standing side by side and performing the same thing, but landing in different places. There is also the concept of improving ones self and choosing to not repeat the mistakes of the past.

It also means the thing Tim said about Buck and Tommy becoming more comfortable with one another makes much more sense, and why he’d flip the question to talk about Eddie and about Eddie feeling a bit left out in the cold but not out in the cold! Buck is becoming more comfortable with himself and while he’s doing that and learning to be happy etc as I described above. Eddie is going to feel left out - because this is about Buck not Eddie - because it’s about Buck being ready for forever with Eddie - and Eddie ultimately cannot be a part of that journey - Buck has to do it for himself in the same way that Buck cannot help or be there while Eddie goes through his reckoning with the Catholic Church, and faiths place in his life and also dealing with the ghost of Shannon and his mother issues(because he has those and they are all set up to go in s8 - Chris being in Texas really sets that up nicely!

Bahaha Tim I’ve finally figured out your question answering methods and how they tell us all we need to know!! 

All this to say - Tommy is actually alt Buck - not Eddie lite (I mean he is still also that but it’s a bit of a red herring) he is a plot device for the biggest thing about Buck as a character and it all means Buddie here we come!

Thank you so so much if you have read this epic piece of waffle - I hope you enjoyed and I truly look forward to hearing all your thoughts on this and to you being as insane about it as I am!

Tagging some people who asked (and some who didn’t but might be interested anyway!)

@spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @lover-of-mine @fruityfirehose @leothil

@bewitchedbewilderedbisexual @theladyyavilee @livingwherethesidewalkends @craigyxo

@izzysbeans @buddiediaz118 @inell @hotshotsxyz @winterskydragonx

[unbearableblog]

My Christmas gift for you.

Messages (Carmen Berzatto x reader)

Summary Carmy’s actions towards the reader might eventually lead to consequences.

Word count ~2,8k

Warnings 18+, No use of Y/N (there is rarely a name but it’s just for aesthetics, you are welcome to insert your own name), action set in S2 so possible spoilers, cursing, angst, relationship problems, possible mentions of smut

A/N God this took a lot from me! Legit flew to Copenhagen haha. I am very grateful to each and every one of you who read, liked, commented or reposted and supported this! I would never think that this would happen. I hope you’re not going to crucify me over the plot. Thank you so much for waiting!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Chapter 1 (the one with departure, Denmark, and desserts)

Things were a little different at the Beef lately.

“Richie, shut the fuck up!”

“You first, child!”

Well, maybe not so different. But they certainly were different with you. Amongst the neverending screaming, cursing, and fighting, you somehow survived getting shot at, losing the power, dealing with the IRS, and everything else that constantly went wrong with this cursed place. The amount of experience you had in this short amount of time has topped anything you've done before. You couldn't catch your breath. But that's what you do for the ones you love, right?

It's been some time since you started helping Carmen with the Beef - serving the customers on a particularly busy day, calming down Carmen, sometimes giving Richie a pep talk when he needed to keep his shit together. But mostly you just chatted with Sydney and sat in the kitchen, doing your college assignments while watching Carmen work. You could never get tired of it - he looked so professional and smart. It was his element. Well, when everything was going well.

The entire time, you were there, talking to Carmen as he prepped for the day, giving him a smile and getting one back, just watching him go on about his day and move so swiftly like a well-oiled machine. Seeing him in an apron drove you wild. You'd have to stop yourself from going up to him and touching his god-given curls or rubbing his back through his white T-shirt (but more often you failed to do so). Most of the days you patiently waited to go home and show him everything that was on your mind all day.

One time he caught you staring, mind far away from the Beef. His voice brought you back.

“Are you thinking about my fingers again?” He said while putting his arms at his hips, almost offended.

You bit your lip and looked at him with a guilty smile.

His hand went up to brush through his curls.

“You’re not gonna get any work done if you keep thinking about that. And with the way you look at me, can say the same thing about myself.”

You whine and playfully pout, not wanting to keep studying.

“Come on, princess,” he comes closer to you and whispers in your ear so that his whole voice goes through your body and his lips brush your ear “And when we get home you can tell me all about it while you sit on my ‘pretty’ cock”

Sometimes he would explain what he was doing or why things weren't going the way they were supposed to, sometimes you would share something you found fascinating in your assignment. He would always listen, even if he didn't fully understand, but you knew he was trying to. It made you feel so special - you got the whole attention of this hot 3 Michelin star chef, covered in tattoos and buff, but he looked at you with such care and softness. His muscular arms touched and wrapped around you with strong tenderness and appreciation. Sometimes you saw the same attention to the details in the food he was making - he really cared.

Everything changed after the Beef closed down.

Carmen was a little taken aback when you told him you were going to Copenhagen with Marcus. You were at the restaurant, like any other day, figuring out a thousand things that were wrong before the opening, when you heard Denmark being mentioned amongst the guys.

“Someone's going to Denmark?” you asked, turning around on your chair.

“Marcus is,” Carmen brushed off, and continued having his conversation with him.

“Wait, to Copenhagen? Why?” you felt ignored.

“Uhh, to learn everything about desserts,” Marcus answered. Carmen didn't even look in your direction.

“When? Why didn't you tell me?” you sounded excited because you were, but your heart felt like it was placed into an iron cage. Carmen knew how much that city meant to you, and to not even mention that your friend was going there felt neglectful. But maybe you were overreacting - he was probably busy, he doesn't have to tell you everything, and it surely wasn't for long anyway.

Berzatto shrugged his shoulders. “Why? It's just for some time.”

“I was actually thinking about going there too. I haven't seen my sister in a while. Maybe we could fly together? I know everything there,” you were ready to help Marcus as a bonus. You really appreciated him as a friend, and returning the favor for all those delicious pastries he made at your request would be terrific. You could also use a fucking break from Chiberia.

“For real? That would be awesome!” Marcus exclaimed with his arms, his smile releasing your heart from its prison.

“Uhh… yeah-yeah, sure, I guess,” Carmen squinted his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I- uhhh, have to go out for a minute. Umm,” he swallowed “-meet that rep for me, yeah?”

An entire work shift of flying has gone by the time you started seeing the bronze-roofed houses sprinkled like decorations on a Red Velvet cake. You made Marcus promise you not to judge the country by its airport, as it usually was surprisingly dirty. Nevertheless, there were hints of what life there was like - a burst of energy, culture, and flavour. You walked what seemed like forever through the endless white halls with blue sections, wondering how many times Carmen had been here and whether you ever crossed paths. You kind of wished he was there. Your excitement rubbed off on your friend - Marcus was beaming with happiness, anticipating your time there. He knew it was going to be life-changing.

The moment you went outside felt like you could breathe again. The weight of The Beef, Carmen, stress, problems problems problems dropped off, was left behind, and never got on the plane. Your chest wasn't encircled by snakes that only pushed until you suffocated. Your mind was clear.

You helped Marcus settle in his awesome boat, and after reading the owner's note to "keep the water in Coco's bowl", searched for the cat for like 20 minutes. Unfortunately, your efforts were fruitless.

Marcus only let you go back alone because you assured him of your safety (you gave him a speech about how it wasn't like Chicago) and experience. Still, he made you text him when you got to your sister's. The two of you were always trying to make your relationship work, but the distance didn't make it easy. That did not mean that you were going to give up - you were used to making a lot of effort for the people you love. She was ecstatic and grateful to see her little sister. The rest of the evening was spent eating, sharing your lives, and talking about your mysterious boyfriend.

“I don’t know, he’s just so… distant. He always leaves somewhere, does god knows what when he knows we don’t have much time! Sometimes it feels like I care about the restaurant more than him. Which is so weird because he was so into it before! He planned the whole thing! And I am so fucking stressed from it all! I never even wanted to work in a restaurant but I was there for him!” you expressed your pain very loudly.

“Have you thought of… breaking up with him?”

You exhale and almost completely give up mentally.

“I don’t know… it feels like we don’t have much of a relationship at all anymore. We don’t go out, all the time is spent on the opening. I swear sometimes I’m there just for our friends and his sister, I can’t just leave them without help while he’s wandering somewhere”.

You couldn’t sleep because being in bed without Carmy by your side felt plain wrong. You were also jetlagged which meant that the peaceful world of Morpheus was avoiding you like a plague. The same thing happened to Marcus, so you both were just texting about what you were doing.

“idk, i gave up and went to get some tea” you typed, a warm mug in your hand as you cozied up on the couch with a blanket.

“yeah, same shit here. bout time to get ready anyway”

Your whole house was asleep, and probably would be so for a while. It was too dark to go out for your liking. Boredom kind of crept in.

“what is it exactly u're gonna do there?”

“uhhh i wish i knew. make some things from the pics i showed u i guess”

“can i watch?” Was it too much of a request? Who even knows if you'll be allowed there?

“yeah i think so. i'd love to not have to do this alone”

You smile, finish your tea, and get up to find some clothes.

You finally reached the place and were met by a tall man in an apron. He introduced himself as Luca, and you heard a very sultry voice softened by an accent. You wondered where he was from.

“I'm Chef Marcus. That's Liv. Is it cool if she just hangs around and watches me?”

“Hi,” you smile at him.

“Hello. You could also join in. What kind of a chef are you?”

“Oh I'm not, I'm -”

“Well, with the amount of time Liv spends in our kitchen listening to every word of the CDC, I'd say she might as well be a chef by now,” Marcus only half-jokes. You give him a look anyway.

Luca prepared everything and soon he and Marcus were working. You were sitting on the other side of the table, able to see everything. Only now you were starting to notice how strong he was, you have to be, you thought, if you stay on your feet all day. His arms were also covered in tattoos that didn't seem to make sense, like Carmy's.

“So who are you?” Luca's question doesn't sound rude, just curious.

“I'm his boss' girlfriend,” you nod as you speak.

“Wow,” he seems to be thinking something, but maybe it's just him being focused on putting the peanuts on dessert, “What are you doing here?”

“Uhh, visiting my sister? It was time and I thought Marcus here could use someone to show him around. As for here, I was really jetlagged and bored.”

Luca was amazing. The way he coached Marcus even when he made mistakes was consistently calm, stern, and leading. Not once did any of you feel berated or hear his voice go louder, all you knew was to just try again. His entire presence excreted stability and equilibrium.

After an extensive lesson, it was Marcus' turn to try. All of you leaned closer to the dessert in hopes of seeing more. You held your breath as you watched Marcus carefully place a tiny piece in the clockwise direction of the dessert when in the blurred background of your vision you felt something change. Instinctively, you looked up from the dish, and your eyes met the gaze of your friend's teacher. There he was, almost lying on the table, looking at you. As if he wasn't busy right now. As if the dessert didn't matter. Hypnotized. “Got it!” Marcus smiled and stood straight up. “Great job, chef,” Luca switched back to Marcus.

Suddenly a firework of spice embraced you in its scent, making your head go round from the all-encompassing desire to taste it.

“Oh my god, are those cinnamon buns?” you had to put your hands on the counter to keep yourself up. “Yeah,” Luca stood straight. “You like them?” “They smell amazing!” you could swear you saw a quick prideful smile brush Luca's lips.

“They are her favourite. And she's very specific about'em too,” Marcus threw you under the bus.

Luca seems interested. “In what way?”

“I'm not, okay? I just believe that cinnamon buns should have a lot of sugar and cinnamon, or else they're just buns. There was this place near the park, and the pastry they sold was like 90% dough. I didn't like that at all” you defend yourself, and Marcus scoffs, having heard you rant about it many times at The Beef.

“Abomination,” Luca shakes his head.

“Exactly! I love it when there is so much sugar that it's oozing out, that's how it'd supposed to be.”

Your lighthearted banter somehow led to Luca opening up and talking about his life and experience. He also shared a couple of stories about determination, his acceptance of not being the best, and some of his failures. Soon all of you were joking around and laughing at your pasts. You felt your heart warm up to him and thought that leaving the house was a good idea.

Marcus stepped outside to check on his mom. He called her sitter as often as he could, and every time you hoped that everything would be alright. Luca was silently doing his work, kneading some dough. It was a demanding process, but so meditative, and you couldn't help but float away watching his big hands grab and squeeze the smooth dough, throwing it back onto the table occasionally, his long fingers dug into it, leaving an impression. “So where is he now?” you ask. “Who?” “The chef who was better than you. Where is he now?” you wondered if Carmen knew him or told you about him. “Well, you tell me. Apparently, opening up a new restaurant,” the chef said, as he threw a careless nod in your direction. Huh? Your heart drops. What? You let out a nervous scoff. “You're saying it was… Carmen??” Your question was met with a simple nod as he kept working. “Carmen Berzatto, the chef that was better than you at everything?” you almost spell out. Luca just takes his eyes off the dough and watches your reaction. He is also confused. “God, he really is the best?” the question sounds more like an exhale. “People keep saying it, but I guess I didn't realize” you sit down, defeated, and stare off. Your mind keeps pacing - what happened to Carmen? How did he go from being the best to being a yelling mess of chaos? Why is someone who looked up to him so calm and collected but still successful? Why can't he be like that? “You sound surprised. What, he doesn't feel like it?” He asks while kneading the dough, this time slower and a little softer. You look at him, then shake your head away and look down. You want to tell him everything about the way Carmen treats you, and how different that is from what your beginning used to be, how he doesn't appreciate you even though you spent so much time in and on The Beef, and how unfair that is, and have his deep voice tell you the answer, but you can't. That would be weird. Luca notices your hesitation. “You know, when we worked together, he would often be… difficult,” there is a pause after he says it because he is reading your face, trying to understand if he's walking on thin ice. He isn't, so he continues. “Partly why I didn't become better than him was because he wouldn't let me.” “Yeah, he shared something like that.” His brows went a little higher, and his grip on the dough hardened and stayed there. “My point is, being with a person like that can't be easy. Man, we only worked together and I already wanted to smother him, can't imagine being in a bloody relationship,” his smile makes you laugh and for a second you forget every bad thing in the world.

Later that day you wanted to call Carmen. “Carm, you free?” You wished to tell him everything - how much you loved the city, how nice his friend was, the fun you were having, and how good this was for you. Kinda wanted to beat his ass for being so mean to Luca too. “not rn, Liv, busy”

Of course.

“Olivia! Come here!” your sister screamed to get your attention. You noticed she was standing at the door, talking to somebody, so you got up and approached her. “What's up?” you asked. She closed the door and turned to you, holding something in her hands. “It's a gift from your boyfriend,” she said in a teasing tone, and you could swear that the last time you saw her that giddy was in high school. “What? How do you know?” A drop of hope celebrated its birth in your chest. “The delivery guy said it's from a chef,” the last word she playfully stretched out, so it came out a little funny, like Tina says it. You couldn't believe it. There it was, a white box carefully tied with a red ribbon. Finally Carmen realised how distracted he was and decided to apologize. Obviously, you were gone, so he missed you. Your heart filled with warmth and you smiled to yourself - you knew things would get better. You take the hefty precious gift from your sister's hands, sit on the couch, and open it with anticipation. Inside, 9 breathtaking gourmet cinnamon rolls with caramelized sugar barely fitting, leaking out of the mouthwatering, well-kneaded dough. And a note.

"You deserve all the best in the world - Luca"

I hope you enjoyed it! Part 2 might come quicker if you comment how you liked it

Snippet from the next chapters

🏷️ Tagged everyone in the comments! If you want to be excluded, just let me know♥️ @carma-fanficaddict @eternallyvenus @sia2raw @helloheyhihowdyheya @soursopsista @m1dnightsnackz @custarrds

Dividers by @saradika

[confused-pyramid]

There Is More When You Let Go | s2

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 18.8k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, kidnapping, torture, drug use, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 2x01, 2x05, 2x06, 2x13, 2x14, 2x15, 2x16, 2x18, 2x23

a/n: here's season 2 of the anchor series! I had a lot of fun writing this one (hence why it got so long lmao), and I included a lot more direct show content in this part, so I hope you like it. Also more flashbacks:) Title is from Benediction by Luke Sital-Singh

series masterlist

A gunshot. That's the last thing you hear before Elle's front door flies open, almost throwing you back onto the stairs. The shock of seeing the Fisher King standing right in front of you almost makes you miss the puddle of blood that has started seeping across the floor to your feet.

"Elle," you gasp, your moment of distraction enough time for the man to push you behind him and make a break for it. You fall forward with the force of his shove, but he's much slower than you are. If you ran after him now, you could almost certainly catch up to him, but the sight of Elle bleeding out in front of you makes you immobile.

Making the split second decision to abandon the chase, you throw yourself forward and press your hands against her wound to control the blood flow.

"You're gonna be okay," you tell her, even as her blood trickles out from below your palm. "I need to call for help."

Pressing one hand down harder, you try to ignore the sounds of her gasping in pain as you reach behind you for her house phone. After dialing 911, you hold the phone between your ear and shoulder and bring your hand back to apply more pressure.

The paramedics arrive within five minutes, and they pry you off of her as they pull out a defibrillator. You had been so focused on stopping her from bleeding out that you hadn't even noticed she had stopped breathing. How could you have missed that?

"Charging to 200."

You lean back against her couch as tears leak from the corners of your eyes.

"Clear!"

***

"They took her into surgery," you say when Hotch meets you at the hospital. Your eyes keep darting around, like you're looking for something, but you don't know what.

"What happened?" he asks, placing his hands on your shoulders to regain your focus. The pressure calms you down.

"I think he was waiting for her," you whisper, your throat tightening. "He had to have been. It all happened so fast."

His eyes stay on yours, as though trying to predict your next movement. "I'm glad you're okay."

More agents filter into the hospital and he begins to turn away to talk to them, but then you stiffen under his hands. "I had him, Hotch."

"What?" he frowns, looking at you again. "What are you talking about?"

You lift your hands to your face to brush away a strand of hair, barely noticing the stains all over your skin. "He was right there. The unsub. I could've grabbed him...but I didn't."

Anderson walks over with a question, but Hotch doesn't take his eyes off you. "You went to Elle. It's okay, you made the right choice."

"But the girl he took," you protest, shaking his hands off, "this could have lead us to her, but she's still-"

"You did the right thing," he cuts you off, waving Anderson away to speak with someone else. "It's not your fault."

You grit your teeth, your voice still tinged with guilt. "How do you know?"

"Because," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "it's mine. I sent her home."

You open your mouth to tell him how unfair that is, but he cuts you off with an order to go wash up before he leaves to explain the situation to the other agents.

The only bathroom on that floor of the hospital is at the end of the patient ward, so you trudge down the hallway and into the single family restroom, trying to avoid the worried glances from all around.

You haven't seen your reflection since before leaving with Elle, and you know it can't be a pretty sight, but the face staring back at you in the mirror is still a shock.

The bottom of your shirt is matted to your skin, and your hands are covered in now-dried blood that looks flaky and dark. When you look up, you see a streak of blood smeared over your nose from when you swiped at your face earlier.

Grabbing a fistful of paper towels, you run them under the faucet before scrubbing at your face and peeling your button down off to rid them of any trace of Elle's blood. When you're sure there isn't anything left, you turn the faucet back on and stretch your hands forward, watching the warm water turn a muddy red color as it swirls around the drain.

Eventually, the water runs clear, but you can still see the blood in your mind. You are suddenly ambushed by a memory you thought you had pushed down long ago. Red blood, cold skin.

How was there so much blood in the human body?

Your department-mandated therapist told you at the time that you would be in denial for the first few weeks, but you weren't denying anything. You had seen his body, seen the blood pooling around him as the coroner snapped photographs for the crime scene report. You knew he was dead. You just couldn't get that question out of your mind.

The memory shifts and suddenly you're seventeen again. You're seventeen and you are reaching for your first aid kit for the second time this month as Hotch sits on your bed with what feels like a permanent wince fused to his lips.

"Hold still," you whisper as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and press it into the cut on his hand. There's also blood under his nose and in his teeth, but he doesn't seem to notice.

He hisses as the alcohol makes contact, but he doesn't pull away. He's used to this routine now. You both are.

"I'm sorry I came by so late," he whispers through gritted teeth as he watches your fingers peel open a bandage. You want to berate him for apologizing, for feeling so much guilt all the time, but it's fruitless. It's like he was born with it inside of him, always clawing its way out at the slightest inconvenience.

"Don't be." You shoot him a look that he knows to mean 'be quiet and let me finish this'. He heeds your unspoken order, but after a few minutes, it's you who breaks it. "How did this one happen?"

He looks down and you immediately want to take it back. "You don't have to answer."

He's quiet for a beat. "He was drunk and I cleared his bottle away before he was finished with it."

Your lips thin and you press your hand to his knee, desperately needing to connect yourself to him in some manner.

"I tried to keep him in the kitchen, so Sean wouldn't hear, but I guess the noise woke him up." He takes a deep breath, and you can almost feel the determination entering his body as he sits up straighter. "I couldn't let him get to Sean, so I finally did it. I fought back."

He looks down at his bandaged hand then, and you can see pride accompanying the blood etched into the lines of his face. "I finally fought back."

Your eyes refocus and when you look at yourself in the mirror again, there's no trace of Elle's blood on your body anymore.

***

When Elle is discharged from the hospital, you spend the rest of the break helping her move out of her house and into a new apartment. When you drove her back home, the blood had been cleaned off of her floors, but you could see in her expression that it wasn't enough. This place would always be a reminder of what had happened to her.

The apartment search was quick, only a week between finding a place she liked and signing the new lease, but she saved the actual move out for the last few days of your break, instead hopping between sleeping in your guest room and a motel in town.

That's why you find yourself in Elle's old bedroom on the final Saturday before you're due back at work, packing some of her clothes into a suitcase while she works on clearing her bathroom. She tossed out almost everything she didn't absolutely need, only packing up her basic clothing and a few other sentimental keepsakes from her past.

"What about these?" you ask, holding up a pair of dark wash jeans that you remember her wearing to the bars with you a few months ago. God, has it really only been a few months?

She peeks out of the bathroom for barely a second. "I told you, I don't care. Keep it, toss it, your choice."

You don't know how you feel about being in charge of her future wardrobe, especially since you tend to live in loose jeans and old tee shirts when you're not at work, but you can understand where she's coming from. The instinct to hand off every decision to someone else.

You remember how hard it was for you to even decide what to eat for dinner after Jeff died. You also remember Hotch slipping pre-packed meals into your fridge whenever he came over to keep you company.

It takes you a couple of hours to clear out her house, and another hour to drop her and her stuff off at the new place, with promises to visit whenever you can over the next months of her leave.

You don't realize how exhausted you are until your front door shuts behind you and you collapse onto your couch, still in your dirty clothes. The summer sun is completely below the horizon as you lean back into your throw pillows and grab the tv remote. You haven't used your tv in months, and you figure that a vacation from work is the perfect opportunity to dust it off.

The screen comes to life on a local news channel, where a young reporter with teased-up hair is announcing a recall on a vacuum cleaner brand you've never heard of. She finishes her spiel before handing the mic off to an older woman who starts reporting the details of a car accident that took place in a neighborhood a few miles from yours.

These reports don't usually get under your skin - you have seen enough to know that it happens everyday - but suddenly, you can't stand to look at the crime scene tape flashing on your screen. You don't wait long enough to see what caused the accident. Whether it was a simple mistake, or if it was a drunk dri-

Grabbing the remote, you turn the television off and stand up, shaking your limbs out in an effort to rid yourself of the anxious feeling that's been growing inside of you.

You make yourself a quick microwave dinner and wolf it down in a few minutes, before trudging upstairs and hopping in the shower. You take your time washing the dust off of your body, and only emerge when the hot water runs out.

Even after cleaning yourself off and climbing into a fresh set of sheets, sleep doesn't come easily. The minutes tick by slowly as you stare at the ceiling, and before you can overthink it, you grab your phone off your nightstand and hit the first number on your speed dial.

It rings twice before the line connects. "Is everything okay?"

"What happened to 'hello'?" you ask, huffing out a laugh as you sit up in your bed.

Hotch grunts quietly. "Hello." You can hear the tiredness in his voice, but he sounds alert. You didn't wake him up. "What can I do for you?"

"So I have to need something to call you?"

"Y/N."

"Sorry for wanting to talk to my friend-"

He sighs so loudly, you can practically see his eyes rolling. "Are you going to tell me why you called or not."

"I helped Elle move out today."

That gets his attention. "How is she doing?"

You shrug, even though he can't see you. "As good as can be expected. We threw out almost all of her stuff, you know. She ended up with just a suitcase and three boxes at the end."

"That's just her way of coping, I guess."

"When we got to her house, it was..." You pause for a beat. You don't know the correct way to bring this up. "Well, it was clean. The blood was gone."

He doesn't say anything, and you know you were right. "Hotch, it was you, wasn't it."

He exhales quietly, as though he's trying to control his volume. Shit, maybe Haley's sleeping next to him. This is why you don't call someone after midnight.

"She didn't need to see a crime scene in her own home."

You wonder if he knows how he sounds right now. How caring and compassionate he can be when he doesn't try to tamp down that side of himself.

"You're a good unit chief," you say, leaning your head back against your wooden headboard. "I don't know why you keep things like this hidden."

You do know why, but that isn't what's important right now. There's a small creaking sound over the receiver and you imagine he's getting out of bed and crossing the room. Then the click of a door closing. "All that matters is that it's done."

You can't control the exasperated sigh that leaves your body. "Who are you trying to kid, Hotch? This is me you're talking to. I know how you worry that you aren't setting a good example for the team, but it's things like this that go a long way. It really wouldn't hurt for the team to see you showing some emotion."

"That's what they have you for," he says, his voice tightening the slightest bit. "They don't need that from me. When my emotions get in the way, I can't do my job properly."

You scoff. "And what job is that, exactly?"

"Keeping you safe."

He doesn't need to raise his voice to make you feel his anger. "If I had kept my emotion out of it, I wouldn't have sent her home. I wouldn't have let you accompany her, and I wouldn't have put both of you in danger."

Your hand comes up, rubbing circles into the skin above your chest. "Aaron...that wasn't on you." You can sense his protests coming, so you try a different tactic. "It wasn't on me either. No one but Garner deserves any blame for what happened."

The line is silent for a few moments, and you take the little victory. "I'm sorry I called you so late."

"Oh, it's alright," he chuckles. "You know I was up anyway."

***

She came back too quickly. You can't get the thought out of your head as you watch Elle restlessly tap her foot on the ground as she waits for the final word on whether she will be acting as bait for the serial rapist.

You don't think she's ready, and you've made your opinion known to the team, but Gideon made up his mind quickly.

"You think Elle's ready for it?"

"We'll be there for her."

You watch her vigilantly from Hotch's SUV as she enters the house and drops her keys on the table by the window. She's wired, which is a small relief, but Gideon's instruction not to have her gun on her has you more anxious than you'd like.

"Why isn't she leaving?" Hotch says from next to you, echoing your thoughts.

A car driven by a man fitting the profile pulls up on the opposite side of the street and you hear Morgan dialing Garcia. After a few seconds, he's back on the line. "William Lee. It's him."

"Bingo," Gideon's voice exclaims through your earpiece. "She's on the move."

You turn away from the car and see Elle exiting the front of the house. She glances at the man on her way to her car in the driveway, and it's only then that you notice the gun stuffed in her waistband.

"Her gun's out," you whisper, mostly to yourself. "What's she doing?"

"She's panicking."

"We've got no reason to bring him in."

"Don't blow it, don't blow it."

A chorus of yells echo through your earpiece as Elle stomps down the drive and points her gun at the unsub. "FBI, put your hands where I can see them!"

You throw open the car door and run over to apprehend the man as he fervently denies all of her accusations. "I was just stopping to look at my map."

The police put him into an interrogation room back at the station, where Hotch and Gideon try to get him to confess by showing empathy for this motive. It seems to be going well until his lawyer shows up, putting an end to the conversation.

She's been tense all day, so you're not surprised when Elle blows up. "You're letting him walk?"

Gideon is the first to step in. "Back off, Elle."

"You don't know what he's done," she yells, as though trying to reason with the police. The pain in her voice is palpable, but you can't deny the truth, even if you aren't able to voice it to her.

Hotch doesn't face the same issue. "The only reason he's walking is because you panicked."

"I'm supposed to believe that you've got my back?" she fires back, her anger redirecting to fly in his direction.

"What are you saying to me?"

"The last time you sent me home, Hotch, it got me shot."

All of the air leaves the room. You grab Elle's arm and pull her back, expecting more resistance than you get. "Walk with me."

She follows you across the hall and into a little meeting room that's scattered with evidence bags and files from the case. You let the door click shut behind her before you start speaking. "You need to take a breath. I know you, Elle. I know exactly what you're capable of. You just need to give yourself time to heal."

The fury in her eyes hasn't abated since you apprehended Lee a few hours earlier. You're not sure it will in this environment. "Take a walk. Get some air, and then come back."

She doesn't meet your eye as she pushes past you and storms out of the station.

***

"There's no reason for us to stick around anymore, is there?"

Gideon shakes his head and you purse your lips, glancing at the doors behind you. You haven't been able to shake the feeling that something terrible is going to happen, but you suppose that's a common notion on this team.

"Wheels up at noon tomorrow."

You're walking out to the parking lot with the team when the feeling hits you again. The last time you felt this level of dread was right before you got the call from organized crime just over two years ago.

Your fears are confirmed when Hotch's phone rings with a call from the local PD that they have Elle at Lee's address. The drive over is silent, and even though you're always the first to call Hotch out on his guilt spirals, you can't get the thought out of your head that this is all your fault. You knew she had come back too quickly. Never mind that it wasn't your call. You should've fought it harder.

Lee's bullet-riddled body is like a beacon of your guilt as Elle insists it was cut-and-dry self defense. "I was having a conversation with him and he drew his weapon and I fired."

The police don't let any of you talk to her as they load her into the back of their cruiser, but you know what you have to do if you want to be able to sleep tonight.

"I'm going to the station," you tell Hotch before flagging down another one of the officers on the scene. He moves to stop you, but you sidestep him and level him with a glare that high school you would have been proud of. "I have to do this."

The station doesn't finish processing her until halfway through the night, but you couldn't fall asleep even if you wanted to. When they finally remove her cuffs and bring her out, you stand up from the plastic chair you spent the last four hours in and stretch out your legs.

She doesn't spot you immediately, but when she does, her body almost deflates. "I'm fine, L/N. You didn't have to come here."

She stops in front of you, her jacket hanging over her arm as she stuffs her badge back into her pocket. If you didn't know her so well, you would be surprised by how relaxed she looks. You wouldn't recognize the front she has had up since she stepped off the plane.

"What happened, Elle?"

That catches her attention, and you watch as the mask slips by a hair. "You don't believe me?"

You don't want to accuse her of something you have no evidence of, but you also can't ignore all of the signs in front of you. "Can you really look me in the eye and say you didn't go there hoping Lee would provoke you?"

She just looks at you, and you watch in real time as the mask slides back into place. Without another word, she turns around and walks out of the station.

***

The next case doesn't come until a few days later. Elle gets cleared by the bureau's internal investigation, but you can't imagine Hotch won't tack on a psych eval just to be safe.

"Nicholas Faye of Ozona, Texas, was beaten to death roughly 13 hours ago."

JJ clicks her remote and the screen in the conference room changes, displaying the crime scene photos.

"God," you curse, averting your eyes for a moment. "He's just a child."

"Blunt force trauma to the head," she continues with a forlorn sigh. "He's the second young boy in Ozona to die the same death in the last 2 months. Local hunter found his body in the woods."

Morgan looks down at the case file. "First victim's name: Robbie Davis. Are these boys connected somehow?"

JJ shrugs. "Ozona's population's roughly 2, 500. Everyone has some kind of connection."

"Well if they weren't linked before, they most certainly are now."

Hotch and Gideon's absences from the conference room don't escape your notice, so you keep an eye out for them upon leaving the briefing.

You spot them discussing something in hushed whispers by the coffee station, and you wait for them to finish before you approach Hotch.

"You missed the briefing."

His eyes pinch, and you notice that the lines in his forehead are more prominent than usual. "What is it?"

"Elle missed her evaluation."

Your breath releases like a sigh. "I can check her apartment."

"No," he says matter-of-factly, with a shake of his head. "Gideon wants all of you in Texas for this one. I'll go look for her."

You would normally argue, but the horrific images from the briefing are still imprinted on the backs of your eyelids. "Okay. I'll see you soon."

He leaves you with a nod, and you grab your go-bag before following the rest of the team to the jet.

"You guys see Elle's cleared?" Reid pipes up as soon as the plane takes off.

Derek nods, his lips thinning. "Self defense."

"So it was a good shot."

"She hit what she was aiming for."

Reid frowns. "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"If they cleared her how come she's not here with us?" You glance up and realize Reid is looking at you. "Or Hotch?"

You don't want to reveal more than is necessary, especially when the situation is this precarious and personal, but you're saved from responding when Gideon turns around and yells, "Focus on the case!"

JJ turns the conversation back to the unsub's motivations, and you all discuss a possible profile until a new female victim emerges that strays from the previous victimology.

Gideon doesn't waste any time delegating tasks. "When we land, Morgan and Reid, go to the new crime scene. The little girl."

He turns to you. "We'll look at the scene where Nicholas Faye was found."

The murder site is so far into the woods, that you can't help but imagine what it would've been like to be the little boy who was brought all the way out here with no hope of return. You can't believe that a young child would come this far out of their way unless they trusted the person they were following. "I think the victims knew their killer."

Gideon seems to be on the same train of thought. "They followed him to this spot."

"What makes you think that?" the local officer asks.

Gideon looks at you expectantly, and you take the invitation with a grateful nod. "Well I guess they went this deep into the woods because they trusted him. He probably stashed his weapon here beforehand. This means we're looking for someone intelligent, methodical."

The police officer accompanying you doesn't look sure of your assessment. "He bashed the kid's head in, it looks like a moment of rage to me!"

"I agree," Gideon muses, turning away and looking further into the woods. "It doesn't make any sense."

After informing the town's parents of the five PM curfew, and the children of the new buddy system in place, you excuse yourself to go call Hotch for an update.

"Anything new?" you ask when he answers the phone.

"I went to her appartment to talk to her," he explains, "but she was leaving with an overnight bag."

Your heart collapses in your chest. "She's running."

"I don't know, I hope not." He pauses for a beat. "I'm following her."

"All right," you sigh, wishing there was more you could do from here, "I really hope I'm wrong about this."

He's silent for a second, and you realize your slip up. "I just mean, I don't want to- I mean, fuck."

"I know," Hotch whispers. You can hear his car starting in the background. "But Gideon's right. She's innocent until proven guilty."

He ends the call with a promise to keep you updated, and you head back to the station, where another child has been reported missing. The missing boy's little brother draws your attention to a local legend that leads you to a Mr. Fennigan's so-called "haunted" house up in the hills.

***

"Garcia," you say into your phone before putting it on speaker and setting it down at the table you're sitting at. After establishing that Finnegan's house was empty, you and team have been searching the property for any indications that he's the unsub. "You got anything for me?"

"Only that Fennigan's house on the hill is like the Bates Motel of Ozona, Texas."

You roll your eyes, even though she can't see you. "We heard the legend from that counselor, Charles I think."

"Be careful, though," she says, her voice going lower as though she's telling a campfire story. "People that go into that house supposedly never come out."

"Garcia."

"But then there is that matter of his missing wife."

Deciding to humor her, you clear your throat and whisper, "Do you think she's still on the premises?"

"I got two words for you, my friend: 'rear window'. That guy probably chopped that lady up into delicious bitesize pieces."

You suppress a laugh. "Pen, do you really think that's gonna scare me?"

She huffs and you grin, tugging open one of the drawers next to you and peeking inside.

"You're no fun. Reid was scared shitless."

"He's just afraid of the dark," you smile, before your eyes catch on something bright under the table beside you. "Garcia, I gotta go. And cut Reid some slack."

"No promises, Mama."

You tuck your phone away and reach below the table, where you find a small pink backpack with the last victim's name scrawled on top in Sharpie. "Guys! I found something."

The clues from Finnegan's house lead you back to Charles, the town's guidance counselor, and then to his son, who the police are able to catch in the act of luring away Tracey Belle, another young girl. You don't relax until she's back with her parents, and even then, there's still a tension in your shoulders.

Cases involving children never get easier, but you can't help the kinship you feel to little Tracey Belle, who had the same look in her eyes that you recognized in yourself when you were ten years old. You don't remember your mom's funeral much, mostly because you were so young, but also because the whole day was a blur. The few flashes that come back here and there are your father's eyes, red from crying, and the cold gray of the headstone that you visited with him every year on the anniversary until you graduated.

The plane ride back is morose, and no one looks up from their reading material until it's time to disembark. Hotch isn't at the office when you drop off your case file, so you rub the exhaustion from your eyes and drive home.

There's a figure sitting on your porch when you pull into your driveway, and you're a moment from panicking when her face comes into the light.

"I turned in my badge," Elle says after you lock your car and walk up the steps.

Something twists in your gut, but the one emotion you aren't feeling is surprise. "Do you want to come inside? How long have you been waiting?"

She shakes her head, and you give her some time to formulate her thoughts. After a minute, she meets your eye again. "You were kind to me."

You don't know what to say, but you can see the change in her since just last week. She already looks lighter, and you can't help but think about how heavy the job can be. It's a weight on each of your lives that never seems to let up, and while you're going to be sad to see her go, you understand. It's the right choice.

Elle presses her lips together before curving them into a small smile. "You supported me after...after Garner. I'm gonna miss you."

You smile at her, even as your heart fills with sadness. "i'm going to miss you too."

Her body shifts like she's making to leave but then she turns back one last time. "You're too good for him, you know."

You get the sense that you know what she's referring to, but it's not something you can acknowledge without sending a flare shooting up your spine. She nods once, like that's all she wanted to say, and turns away into the night. You blink your eyes closed, squeezing them tightly as though it will somehow make the last few months a nightmare you can wake up from. But that's not how this works.

You give yourself a minute to pretend, but when you open your eyes again, she's gone.

***

The case that takes you to Golconda, Nevada feels almost unique to Gideon, as he takes each of the unsub's decisions personally in a way you haven't seen before.

Once you give the profile to the local police, the sheriff, Georgia Davis, leads you to a woman with a story to match the previous victimology.

"Jane," she says softly as she walks into the holding area at the back of the station. "These people are from the FBI. I'd like you to tell them your story."

Her story takes you through a tale of alien abductions and young love, but the kernel of truth underneath sounds awfully similar to the unsub's M.O. Her eyes still shine with a childlike tenacity that you don't usually see in other victims of such prolific and disturbing killers.

"Her subconscious mind has created a delusion that she was abducted by an alien," Gideon sighs after Sheriff George sends you all out of the room to let Jane rest. "She didn't show him the fear he wanted, so he let her go."

When it becomes clear that he is still in town, you disperse around the local R.V. park in search of his vehicle.

Hotch pairs you with Emily Prentiss, the new agent who joined the team after Elle left, and you welcome the opportunity to speak with her more than you've gotten the chance to since she arrived.

"How have you been settling in?" you ask her as you both stroll along the edge of the R.V. park.

"The team has been very welcoming," she says as she continues to scan the vehicles around you. "I'm just glad to be joining such an accomplished unit."

"That's kind of you," you smile, noting the extreme focus in her eyes. Her intelligence and intense concentration on each of the cases you've worked made much more sense when you learned about her history. Her background must have sparked more than a few nepotism claims over the years, so you don't mind letting her overcompensate, if it means she will prove to herself that she deserves to be here. "Everyone seems to like having you around. I certainly don't mind."

She shoots you a smile that you return by patting her forearm comfortingly. You were worried it would be hard for another agent to settle into the space Elle left on the team, but Prentiss has made easy work of it. She has the same humor as Derek and Penelope, and you've seen how well she gets along with you and JJ. Even Reid has welcomed her with open arms.

"This team is kind of famous," she says after a moment, piquing your interest.

"Oh?"

She shrugs, turning into another row of vehicles. "You've all been through so much, but it just seems to have made you more of a family."

When you first joined the team, that was all you wanted. You were by yourself, completely alone, and the team had become your family in the blink of an eye. It was exactly what you needed. These days, you're not so sure anymore. More family just means more people to lose.

"Can I ask you a question?"

You look at her with a nod. "Yeah, of course."

"It's about Agent Hotchner."

You should've figured. Every new agent tries to vie for his approval, until they realize it's not something you can force. "Yeah?"

She sighs, and you can tell this isn't something she wants to be talking about. "I don't know if I understand him. You're the only person who seems to have his ear. I guess I'm just wondering how I can do the same."

"I got his attention and respect through decades of friendship," you say, watching her eyes widen as you speak. "But he's not the enigma you may think he is. Showing off won't help your cause, but working hard and doing your job well is all you can really do."

She nods, taking in your words. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

You smile, bumping her shoulder to lighten the mood. "Don't worry about him. He knows your worth, I can tell."

Prentiss leans against you for a moment before shaking out her legs and turning back to the lot. "I don't think the unsub is here. We should meet up with the rest of the team."

Once Gideon puts it together that the unsub is hiding out somewhere in town, Hotch suggests that you all turn in for the night, but the older man doesn't want to listen.

"We could wait till first light, Gideon," he stresses, turning his body to stand between him and the officers. "It's gonna be dark soon."

"Do what you like," Jason grunts, shoving past him. "I'm gonna find him."

Hotch starts to go after him, but you step forward and put your hand on his shoulder. "Let him go. Maybe the walk back to the station will help clear his head."

He sighs heavily, and you know it's all the agreement you're going to get right now. "Let's head over there too. He needs our help if he wants to crack this before morning."

The stress lines on his forehead are almost as noticeable as they were the day Elle left the bureau, and you grab his wrist as he tries to turn away. You raise your eyebrows, knowing he'll be able to read the question written in the ridges of your face. How are you holding up?

Hotch rolls his neck to the side, stretching it out after what has been a very long day. When he looks back at you, you wait for a nod that comes after a moment. Alright. Been better, but alright.

Back at the station, the work is slow going, and you don't feel like anyone is helping with how uptight Gideon is acting. The air inside the small building has started to feel suffocating, and you finally get your chance to escape when Sheriff George grabs her car keys.

"I'm gonna take Jane home," she tells you when you approach her at her desk. "It's been a long night, and she needs to sleep in her own bed."

"You need to rest too," you say, noticing the droop of her eyes from sheer exhaustion. "Go home, Sheriff. I'll take her back. I remember her address from earlier."

She doesn't look convinced, so you lean in with a smile. "It's getting really stuffy in here. I need some air too."

That's all it takes to satisfy her, and she pats your arm with a nod before handing you the keys to the cruiser and walking to the exit.

You only see Morgan as you pick Jane up from the holding area, so you tell him you'll be back in a half hour and head out to the back lot.

"How long have you been living in this town?" you ask Jane as you make the short drive to her house.

"Since I was a teenager," she says dreamily, her eyes gazing out the window.

"You never wanted to live anywhere else?"

She shakes her head profusely. "Why would I? This is where I can be found."

You frown at her words, but it's not the oddest thing she has said today. When you arrive at her house, you park the cruiser out front and lead her up the porch steps, where she slowly unlocks the front door. "Do you want to come inside?"

You figure it wouldn't hurt to scope out the place, so you accept her invitation and follow her inside. "This is a beautiful home, Jane." Trinkets are scattered everywhere, and rudimentary sketches cover the walls.

"Thank you," she responds from another room. "You're very nice." You follow the sound of her voice to her kitchen, where she is struggling to lift a pitcher of juice from her fridge.

"Here, let me help you," you say, taking it from her and setting it down on the little breakfast table in front of her stove. "Do you have any cups?"

She walks over to a cupboard across from you, and you unclip your side-holster and set it on the table until the sound of a footstep behind you makes you spin on your heels.

You're assaulted by the sight of a tall, white man, who you immediately recognize from Gideon's profile earlier that day.

"Jane!" you yell, inching toward the table where your gun is. "I need you to run."

"Come with me, Jane," the man says, ignoring you completely. You use the moment of distraction to reach for your gun, but he's quicker than you. A sharp pinprick of pain shoots down your neck as your hand knocks over the pitcher of juice and your limbs suddenly feel like they weigh a million pounds.

"Jane, he's a murderer," you yell, hoping your voice doesn't sound as quiet as it does in your head. Your vision is already blurry, and you wish Reid was here to distract you by spouting off a list of fast-acting drugs from memory. "Jane, run!"

The last thing you hear before you black out is the sound of hurried footsteps receding into the background.

***

None of this makes sense. As each minute ticks by, he can't shake the feeling that they are missing something that's right under their noses.

"JJ just called," Morgan says, walking back into the station with his phone waving in his hand. "Apparently an anonymous caller called the tip line and claimed they saw an R.V. driven by a man who fits the description we gave to the media."

Hotch frowns. "Claimed?"

"Well, not a single R.V. or trailer has passed through any of the roadblocks."

Morgan's words click in his brain, and he instinctively glances beside him as an idea forms, but you aren't there. Now that he thinks of it, he hasn't seen you in over an hour.

"Who does the number belong to?" he asks, shifting his focus back.

Morgan is about to respond when Deputy Silo runs into the office, shoving past the other cops in his way. "We got a call from outside Jane's house. I think it was from the unsub."

Hotch stands up immediately, grabbing his jacket and gun, but next to him, Morgan stills, his face going slack.

"We need to head over there now," Hotch says, listing off a few instructions to the deputies nearby. Where are you?

"Hotch."

"And have some of your guys check in town," he continues, "in case he took her with him."

"Hotch."

He turns around. "What is it?"

"L/N drove Jane home."

His heart drops.

***

Just stay for a few more minutes, Jeff implores, his fingers dancing over your arm as you try to sit up.

You laugh as he tries to pull you back into the bed. I can't, I have to go into work.

Just five minutes, I promise. He pouts as you slide your legs out from under the covers. Three. One. One minute, please. I miss you.

I miss you too, you sigh, pressing a kiss to his lips. I'll see you tonight.

His hands reach up to caress your face, like he always does in the mornings. Cupping your cheek with his palm and running his fingers through your hair.

You settle into the feeling, wishing you had more time to just lay in bed with him. But you don't. Because Jeff's not here anymore.

Your eyes snap open right as the unsub tapes your mouth closed.

***

His hands grip the steering wheel as his SUV barrels up the small country road leading to Jane's house. He can't seem to press the gas pedal hard enough, and Reid's incessant foot-tapping in the backseat is driving him crazy, even though he understands the anxiety coursing through his body.

He beats Deputy Silo to the house, and flies out of the car without waiting for the other agents to open their doors. He's not sure what he's expecting to see inside as he pulls his gun from his waist holster, but he doesn't give himself a chance to think about it before kicking the door in.

"What the hell are you doing?" Morgan yells from behind him as he checks around the door and makes his way through the small hallway. The house is silent, aside from the footsteps of the agents behind him, but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears is almost deafening.

"Clear," he shouts after checking each room up to the kitchen. When he steps inside, there's juice all over the floor, and he spots the pitcher on its side beside the fridge. Juice, not blood.

His eyes flash to the table and his breath catches in his throat. He would recognize your holster anywhere, especially since he was with you when you bought it.

What do you think? It's not too bold, is it?

I definitely wouldn't mess with you.

"Why didn't she reach for her gun?" he wonders out loud.

"Because she couldn't." He turns around to see Reid holding up a large, empty syringe he found under the table.

He can't take his eyes off the juice on the floor, splattered everywhere as though someone had knocked it off the counter. The image of Elle's blood spilled all over her living room is still fresh in his mind, and he can't get over how easily the dark red cranberry juice seeping into the floorboards could have been yours.

Growing up, it was a common occurrence for you to patch him up and wash the blood off his skin, but there was only one time when he had to return the favor.

He still remembers the proud glint in your eyes after you had literally head-butted a man who had grabbed you in a college bar by Georgetown. Already a year into law school, he would've thought you'd have more forethought than to injure yourself in the hopes of getting back at the jackass, but once he saw your bloody grin, his annoyance had fizzled away.

"What on earth were you thinking?" he had asked as you stuck a scrap of napkin up your nostrils to control the flow after the head-butt broke a few blood vessels in your nose. He hadn't seen you much throughout undergrad, but he was glad that you hadn't changed too much, even if it meant you were just as wild as before. "I'm getting you ice."

A few minutes of angry haggling later, he returned to your side with a small bag of ice that he held to the bridge of your nose. Nothing he said could have ruined your mood that night, especially since the man had been kicked out of the bar and banned for life.

"Did you see the look on his face?" you had asked, your eyes twinkling behind the quickly melting ice.

"I did," he sighs, before breaking into a grin. "I'm just glad that your future law degree will give you another method of retaliation against scumbags like him."

You had laughed then, causing a few drops of blood to spray out of your nose, but all he could think about as he jerked back to avoid the mess was how happy he was that you were back in his life again.

Hotch flies back to the conversation happening around him, his brain refusing to let him imagine the worst case scenario.

"Those footprints," Morgan is saying as he starts listening again, "they got to be Jane's."

Reid nods, following along. "They go to the back."

"She escapes. The unsub knows the ketamine's gonna wear off, so he's got to act."

"No," one of the deputies says. "He hasn't got what he came here for."

His voice returns to him all at once. "So he took Y/N for leverage."

"He thinks we have Jane. Which means he wants a trade."

"Whatever he wants, we need to find Jane and your agent fast."

His agent. He feels sick at the thought of whatever that man is doing to you. "Garcia can track the phone number from the anonymous caller. You go to town, we'll find Jane."

***

Your eyes are blurry as you try to clear the fogginess in your head from whatever he injected you with. You can see the shape of the unsub moving around the room, and you squint your eyes to get a better look at the anatomical posters and drawings on the walls.

When your vision begins to focus again, the man comes toward you with a smile. "You're awake." He reaches forward to check the tape on your wrists and you try to jerk away from him, but your body is still flowing with the drug. You can't move as he brushes your hair behind your ear and smiles down at you, a sinister lack of emotion in his eyes. You stop trying to move, realizing it's no use. He's been doing this for years. Mutilating women. Cutting them to pieces.

You can feel your heart rate increasing, and you try not to look at the knives and saws littering the tables around you in an effort to keep yourself calm. Your team is looking for you. Derek knows where you went.

When he grabs your arms and starts lifting you off the makeshift operating table you were lying on, you try to scream, but the tape just pulls at your lips, tearing at the thin skin underneath.

Your eyes widen as he drops you into a metal coffin-like box, but he just looks at you with a shake of his head. "No need for that," he tsks before closing the lid over you, enveloping you in eery darkness.

***

Reid and Prentiss help him inspect Jane's house further for clues as to where the unsub could've taken you. The wind chimes of rib bone blowing in the breeze on the front porch catch his attention almost immediately.

His chest feels tight and he clears his throat. "He's obviously been here before and left these gifts for her."

"How romantic," Prentiss grimaces.

"Well, his version of romance."

Prentiss frowns. "What, are you trying to say you think he keeps coming back here because he's in love with her?"

"That's impossible," Reid interjects. "A sexual sadist can't feel love."

"Well," he says, "define love." He doesn't know if he can. He knows he loves Haley and Jack. He likes to think he always wants to be with them, but when a particularly excruciating case arrives on his desk, his desire to catch the bad guy trumps everything else in his mind. He knows he will always try to protect them from anyone or anything that wants to do them harm, but is that love?

It must be, because he feels the same instinct to protect you, but it manifests in him differently.

"Chemically, it involves surging brain elements called monoamines, dopamines, norepinephrine, and serotonin."

Of course that would be Reid's answer.

He continues rattling off a list of foods that contain these chemicals, and Hotch tunes him out, turning back to the house. They're missing something, they have to be. It's not until they spot a small trailer out back that it clicks.

***

You don't know how much time passes until the effects of the drug finally wear off enough for you to rub your wrists together to loosen the tape around them. The noises outside the coffin stopped a while ago, and you assume the man has left, likely to resume his search for Jane.

When the tape finally breaks, you let out a relieved gasp and let your arms rest for a few moments, before you begin slamming your fists into the bottom of the lid. It doesn't budge, no matter how hard you pound at it, so you change tactics, instead clawing your fingers at the seams in search of a hinge or screw you can loosen.

You're still trying to pry open the lid when you hear a muffled voice speaking outside the coffin. Despite your determination to stay calm, your heart squeezes in your chest as you bring your hands up to fight back in case he opens the lid. You feel someone slide your box across the floor, before opening the top and flooding your eyes with light.

When you adjust to the brightness, you see the familiar faces of Hotch, Reid, and Prentiss standing above you, and you almost cry with relief. Hotch reaches down with a small "thank god" and pulls you up and out of the coffin. Prentiss carefully peels the tape off your mouth, wincing as some of the skin of your lips comes away with it.

When you're standing up again, your legs give out as the fear leaves you, and you collapse into Hotch.

He catches you easily, holding you against him tightly as you shake from the sheer relief of being found before something irreversible happened. You're acutely aware of your teammates watching you hang onto your unit chief as though your life depends on it, but you can't bring yourself to let go.

It's only after your hands stop shaking that he finally pulls away.

***

When you return from Texas, most of the team heads straight home, but Gideon hangs back, calling you into his office.

"How are you doing after today?" he asks as you shut the door behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"Fine," you say simply, looking him straight in the eye. You're not sure exactly what you're feeling, but it definitely isn't fine. The few times your eyes fell closed on the flight back, you could still feel Frank's fingers pressing the tape onto your face.

Gideon scrutinizes you for a moment, his brow crinkling as he waits for you to elaborate. You can appreciate his intention, but you really don't feel like talking about it right now. Not when the memory of the cold metal on your skin is still fresh.

"Okay," he concedes after a minute of silence. It's not really a concession - you can already hear him recommending you for a psych evaluation - but it's enough for the moment. "You don't have to do it right away, but you need to eventually fill out an incident report. I can get you the paperwork now, but I mean it, take your time."

He reaches into his accordion file folder and pulls out a sheet of paper that's mostly blank, except for a few lines at the top. "Just hand it in to me or Hotch when you're done."

You accept the paper and leave his office, with a promise to head home soon. You heard his suggestion to finish it in your own time, but you can't imagine coming back to this at a later date.

Dropping into your chair, you lay the paper down on your desk and read over the form. The first section is the same as every other form you've had to fill out at the bureau: name, date, badge number.

The second half is just one line of instruction before a vast sea of white space. Describe the incident in detail.

Images from Frank's workshop flash in your mind. A roll of silver duct tape. A bloody washcloth. A rusted scalpel. Nothing you can effectively put onto paper.

The words don't come, even as the lights in the hallway automatically turn off, and the hushed voices from the nearby offices go silent. You eventually stand up to shake out your legs and get another coffee, not because you need it to stay awake, but because it feels like the normal thing to do. The idea of sleeping just takes you back to the darkness of the coffin, and a shudder runs through you as you pour yourself a cup and dump the muddy remains of the pot in the sink.

You're about to head back to your desk to fruitlessly stare at the form for a little while longer, when your eye catches on a small lamplight from Hotch's office at the top of the stairs. Gulping back a mouthful of stale coffee, you toss the rest in the trash and grab your report before hiking up the stairs.

"You're still here?" he asks when you knock on his door and push it open. "I thought you left hours ago."

The same question Gideon asked you earlier is etched into his face, but you know he won't voice it just yet. He was always good about knowing your boundaries (and when to push them).

"I could ask you the same thing," you smile with a shrug, before flopping down into the chair by his desk. "You really need to replace this chair, by the way. It's horribly uncomfortable."

He snorts quietly. "It's a perfectly fine chair."

You laugh, the sound quickly turning into a yawn.

"Go home," he stresses, dropping his pen and fixing you with a pointed stare.

"You first."

"I have work to do."

"So do I."

He looks down at the paper in your hands. "Gideon gave you the form already? I was going to give it you in a few days."

"I'm glad he gave it to me today," you say, before dropping your eyes with a sigh. "I've just been having some trouble finding the words to describe what happened."

"You don't have to do it now..." he starts, but you cut him off.

"I do. I don't want to come back to this later. I need to finish it now, while I still can."

"Okay," he accepts after a moment. "Then take your time. I'll be here."

You fall into a comfortable silence as you bring your pen back down and start writing.

***

He doesn't finish his own paperwork until well after midnight. When he looks up from his reports, you're asleep, your head resting on your crossed arms over his desk.

He would normally wake you and tell you to head home, but you look so peaceful for the first time in too long. Haley and Jack would have gone to bed hours ago, so he figures it won't hurt to stay with you for at least a little while as you get some much needed rest. He can't imagine that sleep has been coming easy - he saw you shaking yourself awake each time you closed your eyes on the plane - so he lets you slumber.

He still hasn't gotten the image of you with your hands and mouth taped out of his head, and he doesn't know if he ever will. When your legs had given out, his arms had instinctively shot forward to grab you before his brain could catch up. He can barely look at the bandages on your wrist now, where the tape rubbed your skin raw.

Standing up from his chair, he slides his suit jacket down his arms and steps around his desk. Being extra careful not to wake you, he drapes it over your shoulders and lets you sleep.

***

Hotch gives you the next week off, but the quiet solitude of your house is too much to bear with all of the memories swirling through your brain. You know he would have called you if there was a case out of town, so a few evenings later, you find yourself in your car, driving over to the Virginia field office.

When you walk into the bullpen, it's empty aside from Reid at his desk and Prentiss at the coffee station. It's late, and you assume Reid is just taking some notes down from the last case, but you aren't sure why Emily is still here.

"Hey," she says when she sees you sit at your desk. "Don't you have the week off?"

She looks exhausted, but you understand where she's coming from. The urge to overcompensate for being new. For not being the agent you're replacing. You felt it with Gideon when you were transferred here. She likely feels it with Elle.

"I needed to get out of the house," you explain, adjusting your seat and settling back.

"I hear that," she says, before putting a lid on her coffee cup and grabbing her bag. "I should actually go home for once, but I'll see you in a few days."

Spencer doesn't look up from his notepad until the sound of the door closing behind Emily jerks him from his stupor.

"You're here," he states, as though he's not sure if he is supposed to be asking a question or not. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug, smiling at him. For a genius, he can be kind of clueless sometimes. "I wanted to see you guys."

"Oh," he says, placing his pen on his desk, "well, it's just me here."

You grin. "Works for me."

That makes him smile slightly, but it falls in an instant. "I'm glad you're okay."

Your heart leaps into your throat. "Thanks, Spence, me too."

You expect him to return to his notes, but he just looks down and back up again. "Are you? Okay?"

You frown, more out of a lack of understanding, but he starts backtracking immediately. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't press-"

"It's fine," you reassure, pressing your lips together. "It's what everyone's thinking anyway."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, so you continue to fill the silence. "You just can't let the stares get to you."

"How, though?" he says after a beat. You're not sure what he's asking, but the confusion you're feeling must be mirrored in your expression, because he elaborates. "Ever since my mom came here for the Garner case, I feel like everyone has been looking at me, with all this...pity."

Your chest squeezes as you think about all of the lingering stares that followed him around in the week after Garner killed himself. Even Morgan couldn't hide his shock when Mrs. Reid showed up at the field office. "Have I?"

He shakes his head, and your chest relaxes with relief. Spencer glances up at you, and he looks so young for a second. "You're one of the few who hasn't."

"I guess I just understand the stares better than anyone," you sigh, feeling the familiar ache as your memories return to you in flashes.

You hear him suck in a breath as the realization dawns on him. "Agent Adler..."

You nod and Reid gives you a second to take a breath before he continues. "He was my instructor once, you know. At the academy."

You smile as your eyes shine with unshed tears. "Yeah, I know."

There's this kid in my hand-to-hand combat seminar.

Kid?

He can't be more than 20, maybe 21 years old. But the kid has guts.

You remember those nights before Jeff joined organized crime so fondly these days. The calm before the storm.

"He never treated me differently."

You look up with a sad smile, the memory receding as Spencer shares his own. "Hotch made me take a few physical training classes at the academy after I joined. All the other instructors acted like I was a joke, or a prank being pulled on them...but he never did."

That doesn't surprise you. Jeff was so nurturing and kind, much better than you ever were before you met him.

"I really miss him sometimes," he whispers softly.

You reach forward and press your hand on top of his. He doesn't pull back. "Me too, kid."

***

You can't remember the last time the team went out together. There was one night, what feels like years ago, when you all got dinner together after an especially cut-and-dry case that ended within the first day you arrived on scene. When the cases are long and hard-fought, it's not the same; everyone bolts the minute the jet hits the tarmac.

Tonight, something feels different. There hasn't been a new case in a couple of weeks, and everyone seems lighter.

"I'm back," Haley smiles, carefully setting two drinks down on the little high top table you are crowded around. "Spicy marg for Emily, and mojito for me."

You're still nursing the old fashioned you ordered a half hour ago, and Hotch is only halfway through his pint of Guinness.

"How are they treating you at the BAU, Emily?" Haley asks, before putting the straw in her mouth and taking a large sip.

"She means is he being nice to you," you grin, cocking your head at Hotch as he shoots you a look of mock-offense. You know I'm right.

He flashes his eyes. And?

"Everyone has been incredibly nice," she says with a smile as a waitress approaches you with a drink in her hand.

She sets it on the table in front of you and glances behind her. "That man over there bought this for you."

Haley starts hooting before the waitress has a chance to leave the vicinity. She's definitely starting to feel her mojito, but you would never judge her on her one night away from the baby.

"That was weird," you say, hoping you don't look as awkward as you feel.

Haley leans forward and grabs your hand, an earnest smile on her face. "You should go talk to him! Only if you want to, of course."

"Yeah, it's your night off," Emily agrees, shooting you a smirk over the rim of her margarita.

"I don't know, guys," you say, sliding the drink to the center of the table.

You can tell Haley isn't done encouraging you to have a wild night, so you brace yourself for the pounce, but thankfully, Hotch stands up just as she's opening her mouth, and takes her hand. "Come on, honey, let's go show them how it's done."

"Oh!" she smiles, her face lighting up as she follows him onto the dance floor. "You ladies don't have too much fun without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," you grin, before downing the last of your original drink.

Emily watches them shimmy into the crowd, her chin resting on her palm. "They are so sweet."

"They've been that way forever," you agree, glancing back over at them as they dance lazily in the center of the dance floor. Haley's movements are a bit looser as she slides through his arms, but he keeps a firm grasp on her hand, keeping her upright even when it looks like she may fall.

He still looks at her the same way he did in high school, when he saw her at that first rehearsal for Pirates of Penzance. There's so much wonder in his eyes, like he's seeing her for the first time, every time.

***

You should be happier right now. You're done with high school, sitting in a sea of green caps and gowns with all of your friends, but all you can think about is how soon he's going to be gone.

You're going to be at different schools next year. Him at Harvard, you at UCLA, opposite ends of the country, for four years. The gravity of what that means didn't sink in until this very moment, the worst possible timing, because you're supposed to be happy right now.

"High school couldn't end fast enough," the girl next to you grins, her cap decorated with the glittery letters of the school she will be attending next year. "I'm so ready for all of this to be over."

You're not. You force your lips into a smile and let yourself glance a few rows up, just for a moment. When it's just the back of his head, you aren't confronted by the confusing emotions that have been swirling around your brain for the last few months. Of course you would realize you're in love with your best friend a semester before school ends. But that isn't the only reason your timing couldn't be worse.

You wave at your dad in the crowd, you is wearing more school colors than even you are, and he waves back enthusiastically. It distracts you for a moment, but then you face the front again, and your eyes are drawn back to the same place.

He turns back then, with a grin meant just for you, and your heart flutters like it's in a butterfly enclosure. You smile back, more genuine this time, but his attention shifts behind you after a quick nod. You don't have to turn back to know who he's looking at in the stands.

You shouldn't be surprised they got along so well, you practically set them up. After their first date, he seemed lighter than air, giddy with the impatient brush strokes of a first love. The look in his eyes now is the same as it was that day.

How did it go?

I'm gonna marry that girl one day.

You don't know why you had just assumed he was joking around. Hotch never joked about things like this.

Eventually, he turns back around in his seat, and you stare at your hands as you clasp and unclasp them over and over and over again until you no longer feel the cavity in your chest where your best friend used to be.

***

The next case comes in as you're working on your second drink. JJ corrals everyone at the bar into taxis, and sends you all off to the airport where the jet is already fueled and waiting.

"You missed a fun night," you note as Gideon climbs into the plane, a few minutes after the rest of you arrived.

"I had a good time," he says simply, before sitting by himself a few rows over. He hasn't spoken to you since he gave you the incident report, but you know it's not about you. Being forced to let Frank get away was hard on him, but you don't know how to assuage his guilt about your kidnapping if he won't even look at you.

Derek flips open his case file and huffs out a breath. "Well, good time's definitely over."

"The Kyles," JJ says, beginning the briefing as the plane takes off, "Dennis and Lacy were murdered an hour ago in their suburban Atlanta home."

You look up, assuming you heard her wrong. "Only an hour ago?"

"Police were on scene unusually fast," she nods.

Derek frowns. "Why?"

"One of the unsubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims."

Prentiss lets out a humorless laugh from across from you. "You're kidding."

"From inside the house."

JJ scans the file again. "According to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there before the other, who they both identified as Raphael, was about to kill the sinners that lived there."

Gideon enters the conversation with a confused frown. "Sinners?"

"Also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed." She holds up a photo of a page that looks torn out of a book.

"Revelations, chapter 6, verse 8."

Gideon sighs. "They're on a mission. And mission-based killers will not stop killing."

***

Gideon was right, as he usually is. The killings don't stop, and videos of the murders are posted online, spreading the killers' message for them.

"JJ, why don't you and Reid go out there, see if you can find Mr. Hankel and see if he remembers something."

"On it."

Garcia calls almost immediately after they leave. "There's a new video from our psycho."

Hotch stills. "Get it on the monitor here as soon as you can."

The police officer you met at the first crime scene joins you, Hotch, and Morgan in front of the computer as the video appears on the screen. The first thing you see is the dirty mattress. Then come the dogs.

You avert your eyes as the woman's screams for help fill the room.

"Jezebel's death," Hotch whispers, almost to himself.

"My god," Morgan grimaces. "You can turn it off."

The officer suddenly leans forward. "Oh, wait."

"You haven't seen enough?" Morgan asks, disgust coloring his tone. He has two sisters, both of whom he protects fiercely. You can't imagine what he's thinking about as he watches the screen.

"Those dogs," he says, his voice growing in strength as he speaks. "Those three dogs attacked someone a couple of months ago. I would have had them impounded, but the victim knew the owner."

"You have the owner's name?"

He checks his notepad, flipping through it rapidly. "Hankel."

Your blood runs cold. "Hankel?"

"Tobias Hankel."

You're on your feet before he can finish saying his name.

***

The drive to the Hankel farmhouse is filled with hand wringing and nervous leg bouncing. You keep catching Hotch glancing over at you, but you don't care. You just need him to drive faster.

When he pulls up in front of the house, you and Emily throw your doors open before he can come to a complete stop. Hotch and Gideon head toward the house, so you lead Prentiss and Morgan over to the barn, where you can hear the faint sound of panicked breathing.

Lifting your gun and flashlight, you push open the barn door and are greeted by the sight of JJ pointing her gun at you. "JJ, it's L/N, Prentiss, and Morgan. You're okay."

She looks frenzied, her hair and clothes covered in a layer of sweat and grime. When her flashlight comes down, you notice the dead dogs on the ground.

"Tobias Hankel is the unsub," she gasps, stumbling over to you.

"We know, honey," you whisper, taking her arm and leading her outside, before glancing at Emily behind you. "Call an ambulance."

She nods and rushes over to the clearing in search of better cell signal as Derek steps forward, his face still twisted into a worried frown. "JJ, where's Reid?"

"They just completely tore her apart," she babbles, her eyes still frantic even as you put your hands on her shoulders to steady her. "There's nothing even left-"

"JJ, look at me."

Her eyes snap over to Morgan, and he brings his voice down again. "Where's Reid?"

"We split up," she says, her voice still tight, but slightly calmer. "He said he was going to go in the back."

"House is clear," Hotch calls from behind you, making you spin around, your mouth twisting with dread.

"So where is he?"

JJ's eyes glance back at the cornfield behind the house, and suddenly you're running. You can hear someone calling your name, but all you can think about is Spencer with an unsub who's idea of torture is biblical and cruel.

There are two sets of footprints in the dirt by the edge of the field, but after a few feet, they turn to drag marks. Oh no, oh god no.

***

The whole team - except for Reid, your brain keeps reminding you - sets up in Hankel's house, with even Garcia joining you on the scene to limit communication time.

You can't sleep as you alternate between reading Hankel's journals and hovering over Penelope's shoulder as she pores through his downloaded images and videos. Even as exhaustion pulls at your eyes, you periodically splash your face with water from the bathroom to keep yourself up. If anyone can understand how terrifying it is to be taken by a psychotic killer, it's you. Succumbing to sleep feels like a defeat, like you've given up on him.

You don't find anything useful until after Emily and JJ return from meeting with Tobias's N.A. sponsor, but in the sixth hour of scouring his journal, your brain clicks with a realization. "Guys, some parts of this journal match his father's handwriting. But they were written after he died."

"The bedrooms upstairs..." Gideon mutters, his eyes shifting up like they do when he's thinking. "One of Tobias's personalities may be his father."

Your brow furrows and you look down at the journal in front of you even as your eyes burn with fatigue. "Then who is Raphael?"

"My guess," Gideon sighs, "a mediator between the two."

Hotch looks at you, and you can see the concern etched into his face. "We need to start profiling Tobias's father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid."

Morgan nods. "I'll get Garcia on it."

He leaves the room and Hotch comes over to the table, where you're still staring down at one of the journals. Your hands are covered in pink half-moon indentations where your nails were pressed, and he fights the urge to take you away from here, to save you from this hurt. "You should get some rest."

"I'm fine, Hotch," you whisper through gritted teeth. He can hear the worry in every word that leaves your mouth. The terror at the prospect of losing the team's youngest profiler.

"You didn't sleep at all last night," he points out gently.

"Neither did you."

You're not wrong. He didn't get a chance to shut his eyes either, but he's used to the sleepless nights. He supposes you are, too.

Your focus returns to the journal, and you don't notice as he slips out of the room and finds Gideon by the front of the house.

"Reid's brilliant," the older man sighs when he notices Hotch, almost like he's trying to convince himself. "He'll make it."

"I take advantage of Reid for his brain," he says softly, "but I never teach him how to handle things emotionally."

Jason shrugs. "Lead by example."

"What kind of example is that?"

For a bunch of criminal psychologists, you all still have no idea how to truly deal with losing people. Maybe that's just how life works. He thinks about the weeks after Jeff's death, when he wasn't sure if you would ever be okay again. Even as he held you while you cried, and promised that you would feel okay someday, he's not sure if he ever actually believed it.

But then one day, your eyes stopped shining at the mention of his name, and you no longer fell apart after each time you had to question a victim's widow.

Even after your mother's death, you were stoic. He remembers holding your hand at the funeral, but your grip was almost stronger than his, like you were holding him up with your sheer willpower to stay upright.

Seeing you now, he's not sure what will happen if Reid doesn't come back. He just knows he doesn't plan on finding out.

He and Gideon rush back inside when Garcia's voice frantically calls for everyone to look at Hankel's monitors. His eyes squint inadvertently as the video feed of Reid tied to a chair lights up the screens in front of them, almost like his brain is trying to block out the image.

Your hand flies to your mouth, but not before a small anguished sound escapes. "He's been beaten."

"This is for us," Garcia whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He knows we're here."

"I'm gonna put this guy's head on a stick," Morgan spits out, before turning around and slamming his fist into the room's wooden door.

Gideon leans closer to the screens, clearly trying to take in any detail he can from the scene. "Why can't you locate him?"

"He's rerouting to a different I.P. address every 30 seconds," Garcia explains, her voice thick through the tears. "I can't track him."

***

The screens shut off and the video feed of Spencer is gone. Penelope starts frantically typing away at the keyboard, likely in an effort to regain the signal, but it doesn't seem to be working.

Your body feels heavy, like there are weights on all of your limbs. Realistically, you know it's mostly the stress and exhaustion, but you can't stop thinking about the frightened look on Reid's face and how he must be feeling.

When you walk back through the house, the sound of a hushed argument in the kitchen catches your attention.

"JJ, what do you want from me?"

You recognize Morgan's voice, and you almost turn away to give them some privacy, but something in JJ's voice as she responds keeps you at the door.

"I just...I want someone to tell me the truth."

"The truth is one of you is here, and one of you isn't. You gotta figure the rest out for yourself."

You're walking inside before you can stop yourself. "Morgan, go help Penelope with the video file."

He looks surprised when he sees you, but he doesn't argue before leaving the room.

JJ rakes a hand through her hair as you approach her slowly. She doesn't shy away as you stand next to her, so you reach out and squeeze her forearm once before pulling back. "I was terrified when Frank took me in Texas."

She looks up with a shocked expression, her eyes finally meeting yours for the first time all day.

"I was terrified," you repeat, "but I never lost hope, because I knew you guys would come for me, no matter what."

Her eyes crinkle with sorrow and you pat her arm again, almost as much for you as for her. "I didn't blame anyone for what happened to me, JJ. Reid isn't blaming you either."

Her lip trembles, and you pull her into a hug as the tears finally come.

***

"Your team members...choose one to die."

Spencer gasps on the grainy computer monitor. "Kill me."

"Tell me who dies."

"No."

The back and forth continues as Hankel stalks toward him and lines his revolver up with Reid's forehead. "Choose."

"I-I choose Aaron Hotchner."

The room stills.

"He's a classic narcissist. He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4. 'Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense. In emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.'"

Reid's words sink in and you unconsciously reach towards Hotch, but he's already walking out of the room. You follow him into the other room, the rest of the team on your heels.

"I'm not a narcissist," he says, his voice lighter than you're expecting. He grabs a Bible from the table and quickly flips through it, landing on the verse Reid mentioned.

"Come on, look," Gideon urges. "You can't think anything from that. He's not in his right mind, Hotch."

He waves away everyone's concern. "No. Stop. Stop. All right, everybody right now- what's my worst quality?"

No one says anything. You can feel Morgan revving up, so you jump in to start things off. "You're a workaholic."

Your mind flashes back to your hometown's library, all the late nights where you would fall asleep in your chair as he worked away into the early hours of the morning. His home was a trigger after his father died, and you could see the guilt eating away at him as he realized he didn't miss his dad as much as he was supposed to. As much as Sean did. The guilt that wore him down as he struggled to figure out how to be there for his brother, when he couldn't understand his pain.

He nods at you then, and there's nothing but determination behind his eyes.

"You're a bully," JJ chimes in.

Morgan adds, "You can be a drill sergeant sometimes."

Hotch is still nodding. "Right."

"You don't trust women as much as men," Emily says, her voice wavering slightly.

"Ok, good," he says, tapping the page with his finger. "I'm all these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team, because I don't, ever."

"Hotch, what's your point," you whisper, chewing your lip as you anxiously glance back at the screen.

He shushes you with a wave of his hand. "Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that, and he also quoted Genesis, chapter 23, verse 4. Read it."

You lean forward, taking the book from him. "'I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight.'"

"He wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose."

"Bury my dead," Morgan repeats, his eyes widening. "He's in a cemetery."

***

Hotch heads to the nearest cemetery with Morgan and Gideon, while you follow closely behind, with JJ in the seat next to you and Emily in the back. The drive is short, and you all throw yourselves out of the SUV when you park, as everyone spreads out to search the cemetery.

"Come with me," you tell JJ when you see her eyes flit around the darkness, a slightly panicked expression on her face. "We'll find him."

The wet mulch of the graveyard sinks under your quick footsteps, and you keep your eyes peeled as his name choruses around you, from all of the officers milling around.

The search ends with the sound of a gunshot, and when you get to the source, you nearly collapse with the relief of seeing Hankel on the ground as Reid kneels beside him.

"Spencer," you gasp as the other agents examine Hankel's body. He looks up at the sound of your voice and his face contorts for a second as you kneel in front of him.

A small sound leaves his mouth and suddenly your arms are crushing him to you, your panic ebbing away with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "You're okay. You're okay."

Hotch reaches out when you break apart and helps him up before Reid pulls him into a tight hug that surprises everyone. "I knew you'd understand."

Hotch tightens his arms for a moment, before they both pull back and JJ throws her arms around Reid. "I'm so sorry."

He pats her back, and for a split second, you can almost imagine he's comforting her, instead of the other way around. "It's all right. It wasn't your fault."

She steps away from him and he asks for a moment alone, so you all move back a few paces, allowing him the time to come to terms with the death of the man who somehow both tortured and saved him. You use the second of space to catch your breath as you will yourself not to let the tears of relief fall.

When Spencer finally stands up, you grab onto his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you, and you help him over to the ambulance that is waiting by the edge of the cemetery.

"Thank you," you gasp as he sits on the edge of the vehicle, suddenly unable to help yourself.

He frowns, his hair hanging in sweaty pieces in front of his face. "For what?"

"For staying alive."

***

The next case takes you to New York, where you find yourself hyper-vigilant as you watch Spencer try to acclimate to the job again. You can't help but notice the small changes in his demeanor, including the snappiness in his tone as he responds to everyone's questions, but you attribute it to the shock of his kidnapping.

After returning from the city, you decide to take some time to complete the paperwork you've been letting slide. Hotch managed to head home at a decent hour for once, and JJ and Prentiss are no where to be seen, but you spot Morgan twiddling his thumbs at his desk, his eyes darting over to peer at Reid almost as often as yours do.

An hour into scribbling out a case report, you head over to the coffee station to refill your mug. It has cooled down since you made it a couple of hours ago, but it still tastes just how you like it.

Burnt, Hotch's voice grumbles in your head. Even when he's gone, he won't leave you alone.

Topping off your mug, you turn around to get back to work and end up bumping into Reid, who looks worse for wear than he did on the jet.

"Shit, sorry," you smile, trying to get him to meet your eye. "I didn't see you there."

"Watch where you're going," he snaps, before stepping around you.

You don't let him get away that easily. Grabbing his arm, you hold him in place as he tries to wriggle away. "Spencer, don't do that. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I'm fine," he says simply, his expression almost emotionless as he glances back at you over his shoulder.

"I'm serious," you say, putting extra emphasis on your words. "I know what you're feeling. I can help."

His expression shifts into one of animosity and something else you can't place. "You don't know anything about what I'm feeling."

His words are like a slap to the face, and he uses your break in focus to tug himself out of your grip and stalk over to the bathroom around the corner.

You press your lips together, willing yourself not to take it personally. He's just been through a horrifying ordeal. No one can expect him to continue on like normal, at least for a little while.

"Something is up with him," Morgan says from his desk, before spinning in his chair to look at the spot where Reid walked away. "He's acting...hostile."

"He's just adjusting," you say quickly, your protective instinct coming out in full force. You close your eyes for a moment to calm your voice down. "This is a normal reaction for what he went through."

Derek doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't press the issue. You don't even know if you're convincing yourself, because you know why this kind of hostility and irritation manifests: when you're hiding something.

You weren't a particularly crazy teenager, so you didn't have much to hide from your parents, but there was one secret you held until you left for college that manifested in your daily interactions. One secret that changed how you acted around your best friend, how you spoke to him, how you even looked at him.

You push the thought away before turning to stare at the bathroom door as it falls shut behind Reid. You know Morgan's right. You just don't know what to do.

***

"Hey, Reid," Derek says, looking at him with a small smile. "What's going on up there?"

He shrugs. "Just thinking of this old friend of mine from Las Vegas, Ethan. Pretty sure he lives in New Orleans now."

JJ called you at home a few hours ago with the briefing and an instruction to pack for warm weather. Wanting to pack light, you threw on the tank top you planned to wear, and a button-down for the flight. A few cursory glances around the jet tell you that almost everyone else had the same idea. Of course, Hotch is still in his suit, and Reid has on a sweater vest that you're sure he won't take off, even if the temperature skyrockets.

"Really?" Derek asks. "You going to give him a call?"

Reid shrugs again, and you absentmindedly wonder if his shoulders hurt from the number of times he has used that motion over the past week. "We grew up competing against each other in absolutely everything. Spelling bees, science fairs. We also both had our hearts set on joining the Bureau but first day at Quantico he backed out."

Emily, who is sitting next to you, looks up with a grin. "He probably just couldn't take the heat."

"It's not really for us to judge, is it?" Reid states, and her face falls immediately.

"Right. My bad."

He hasn't been as irritable in recent days, but sometimes a random response will rub him the wrong way. You find Emily's hand on the armrest and squeeze it once. She looks down at her hand and then at you, a grateful smile on her face.

JJ directs everyone back to the images that were recovered as you approach Louisiana.

"A slaughter like this takes time," you note as you examine the depth and shape of the wounds on the dead man in the photos before you.

"Andrei Chikatilo fantasized that the men he killed were his captives," Reid adds, chiming in from across the cabin, "and that torturing and mutilating them somehow made him a hero."

Gideon nods, looking up from his file. "This city's barely back to life. Something like this could cripple its psyche."

"So," you say, looking at JJ. "Where do we start?"

She sighs. "All of the records were washed away in Katrina."

"With no case files, there's only one place we can start," Hotch says, drawing your attention. "Square one."

The plane lands soon after, and you disembark into the midday heat, heading to the latest crime scene immediately after dropping your bags off at the station.

Instead of a body, there's a very alive man waiting for you all at the scene.

"You must be BAU," he says, reaching out to shake JJ's hand. "Will Lamontagne."

She smiles at him, accepting the handshake. "Hi, Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone."

The detective is looking at her so intently, you almost feel like you're interrupting something by bring here. "Okay, then. I pictured you different."

You glance over at Emily, who is already looking at you, a smirk on her face.

"These are Agents Gideon, Morgan, Prentiss, and L/N," she introduces. "This is Detective William Lamontagne Jr."

He nods at you. "Appreciate you guys being here."

"Of course," you say, trying to keep the smile off your face as you shake his hand. Beside you, JJ has turned a light shade of mauve that you presently allow her to pretend is just from the heat.

***

"Morgan called," Hotch mentions when you finally meet him back at the station. He hasn't seen you since you got off the plane. "He and Prentiss think the unsub is a woman."

You ponder the idea, your eyes lighting up as the gaps in the profile get filled. "All straight male victims, killed while on a night out at the bars. Always in groups of other men, drinking. A woman would be able to lure them away. That makes sense."

He nods, turning back to the letters from the unsub. He's about to call the rest of the team back in when he notices your forehead crinkle out of the corner of his eye. You look up at him. "Wait, you said Prentiss and Morgan think it's a woman. What about Reid? Didn't he fly out with them?"

He sighs, mentally kicking himself for letting that slip. He doesn't want you worrying about Reid any more than you already have been, but he knows there isn't anything he can do to stop you. "Apparently he missed the flight. They couldn't get ahold of him."

"What?" Your brow furrows with concern, and he quickly interjects to keep you from spiraling. "They will be back from Texas any minute now, and Gideon said he spotted Reid heading over here a few minutes before you arrived. Nothing has happened to him."

"What are you talking about?" you exclaim, before bringing your voice down. "The worst thing happened to him. He's hurting more than any of us can possibly imagine. I just don't know how to help him get through it."

He doesn't correct you. He doesn't say that almost every single member of this team can at least somewhat relate to what Reid may be feeling, including you. Instead, he puts his hand on your arm and says, "You're doing all you can."

You sigh. "And what's that?"

"You're promising to be there when he's ready for your help." He sees the tension visibly leave your shoulders, and he pulls his hand back. "That's all any of us can do."

***

When another body is found in the French Quarter, the plan changes. Everyone disperses in pairs to cover the streets in the hopes of catching the unsub in action.

Even as night falls, the temperature doesn't, and you strip off your over-shirt, leaving you in a pale pink tank top. When you emerge from the bathroom, Hotch is the only one waiting for you outside, with all of the other pairs already patrolling Bourbon Street.

He gives you a funny look when he sees you tying your button-down around your waist, and you bump your shoulder against his with a laugh. "What are you looking at?"

He exhales in a quick burst, before meeting your eye. "You look different."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No," he shakes his head, his eyes blinking shut as he clearly regrets his choice of words, "no, it's good...uh, you look good."

Your stomach flips and you turn your face down to hide the smile that's threatening to appear. "Thanks, Hotch."

He huffs out a laugh before leading you up to the bars, where tourists are bustling around in large groups. The sounds of buskers playing their accordions at the street corners loosens a memory from your brain, and you turn to him with a bright smile. "Remember your first performance of Pirates of Penzance?"

He frowns. "I remember it being my first and last foray into the world of theater."

"No," you giggle, glancing around you periodically even as you continue the story. "I mean, do you remember how that one accordion player tripped and almost fell into the orchestra pit like ten minutes into opening night?"

His eyes light up at the memory and he laughs. "I thought it was hilarious, but Haley was so stressed out the whole performance. To this day, I've never seen that vein in her forehead get so big."

"You were pirate number four," you chastise him with a grin. "She was one of the leads. I hardly think you can compare experiences."

He shrugs, his eyes still scanning the vicinity. He looks like he wants to say something, but then you both notice Morgan and Reid rushing towards one of the side streets and your conversation halts. "Let's go."

***

With help from Detective Lamontagne and his late father, the team is able to catch the unsub right before she kills another man. Once she's in custody, you wait outside by the ambulances, watching from afar as JJ and Will talk by his car.

After a few minutes, she hands him something and walks back over to where you're standing. "I can't believe I just did that."

"What did you do?" you ask, trying not to laugh at how freaked out she looks.

She puts her face in her hands for a second, before looking at you with a sigh. "I gave him my number."

"That's good!" you smile, squeezing her arm. "That's good, right?"

"I don't know," she says softly, her eyes squinting as she looks at you. "He seems really sweet. And he's clearly great at his job. I think the distance just worries me."

"You can take it slow," you tell her earnestly. "This doesn't have to be any more serious than you want it to be."

"What if I want it to be serious? Eventually, I mean."

You can't help but smile at the look on her face. You recognize it on yourself from when you first met Jeff: the excitement of possibility. "Then that's up to you too."

She nods, and you let out a smile. "Let loose, JJ. He seems like a good one, and you definitely deserve something good."

JJ glances over at the police cars, where Will is talking to one of the paramedics. "I hope so."

***

You sit by yourself on the flight home, giving yourself a bit of time to unwind from the case. You don't encounter female unsubs often, but the ones that arise always have a tendency to get under your skin. Maybe it's because their motivations seem so different from the others. Or maybe you just feel bad for them.

You're so zoned out that you don't realize Spencer is sitting next to you until he taps your arm. "Hey."

"Hey, Spence," you smile, trying to keep your tone light so he doesn't think you expect too much. "What's up?"

He looks down for a beat before meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry."

Your heart twists and you press your lips together to keep from speaking too quickly. "You never have to apologize to me."

"I do," he says, shaking his head. "Please just let me."

He looks so strong all of a sudden. You haven't seen him look so steady in months, and it makes your chest feel lighter. "Okay. I forgive you, Spencer."

He nods, making a move to get up, but you don't let him get away just yet. "Just promise me something."

He purses his lips, like he's unsure of how to respond, but eventually he dips his chin into another nod.

"Promise me that next time you feel this way, you'll come to me."

He looks at you with an expression you can't decipher, but it quickly falls into contrition. "I promise."

***

"What are you thinking about?" Hotch's shoulder bumps yours as he sits down on the edge of the desk next to you.

"Nothing," you say quickly. He's not sure why you're lying. He can sniff out your dishonesty from a mile away.

"I thought you and Reid got a chance to talk on the plane last week," he frowns, following your line of sight.

You sigh, turning your gaze away from the younger agent. "We did. I just keep thinking about what he said about the unsub at the last scene."

He's like a drug addict.

It would be almost impossible for him to quit without help.

"All of us knew," he says softly, his eyes turning up, searching for something he can't see. "To some extent, we knew. But he's doing a lot better now. We just have to give him time to trust us with the truth."

Your eyes find his. "How did you know you could trust me? When we were kids, I mean?"

Your question takes him aback. He wants to say something profound, to mention a specific moment when he realized that he could share the worst parts of his life with you without the fear that the world would end, but it wasn't that poetic. All he knows is that you were a kid, and he was too, and the first time you saw the splotches of black and blue painting his skin, you didn't turn away. You looked at him, not with pity or sorrow, but with a strength that he still draws from to this day. "I think I just knew you would always be there."

You ponder his words, your eyes traveling back to Reid, who is flipping through a book he brought with him. He knows there are a lot of ways you could take what he said, but he believes you'll take what you need, because he was telling the truth.

You really were always there for him. Even when you weren't - either because of physical distance or because you were in a fight - he never doubted that you would be there if he needed you.

"Come on," he says after a beat. "Let's head back."

You nod, your mind still a million miles away. "Okay."

***

Friday nights used to be your date night. Jeff would promise to be home by seven, usually with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers, and you would cook something special together before watching a movie or falling into bed.

After he died, Friday nights became your least favorite time of the week, serving as a constant reminder of what you should have, and no longer do.

Today, for the first time in over two years, you think you might be ready to remember those nights you used to love. Grabbing a bottle of cabernet from your pantry, you pull out a thin-stemmed glass and pour yourself some wine. Your heart thuds heavily as you swirl the wine around, and you are willing yourself to bring the glass to your lips when your pager goes off. You feel a shameful sense of relief as you set your glass down and reach for your purse.

181 Arthur Street. Why does that look familiar?

You wrack your brain for a second before it clicks. It takes you less than a minute to toss your wine into the sink and grab your coat.

***

"Where's Gideon?" you ask when you spot Hotch and the team standing in his kitchen.

"He's not here," he replied. "It seems he left in a hurry."

Morgan looks at him with an urgency you recognize in yourself. "PD thinks he did this?"

"They have six witnesses who saw him running down the street covered in blood, wielding a gun."

"Okay, he was probably chasing the son of a bitch who did do this."

Hotch shrugs, and you can feel the momentary helplessness in the motion. "Either way, we're under strict orders not to get in the way of the investigation."

"Gideon's a suspect," Emily nods, "we're his colleagues."

"Conflict of interest," JJ agrees. "There's no way they'll ask for our help."

"Which he needs badly right now."

You turn into the bedroom to look at the crime scene for the first time. The mutilation of the victim's body brings a familiar nausea to your stomach that you swallow down. "Do we know who she is?"

Hotch comes in behind you. "An old school friend." He turns back to spout off a list of instructions to JJ, but you can't take your eyes off of the woman.

Evisceration of the torso. Removal of various organs. No defensive wounds.

Something in her hand catches your attention and your eyes flicker down to see what she's clutching. Using one of your gloved hands, you pry open her fist and reveal a broken piece of bone. A rib bone.

"Frank," you whisper, almost to yourself. "It's Frank."

"What did you say?" Morgan asks, stepping up next to you. You unfurl your hand to reveal the bone, and he swears under his breath. He turns around to address the rest of the team. "Frank's back."

After JJ snaps a dozen photos of the crime scene on her phone, you all head out into the night air to regroup and formulate a game plan. You hang behind the team on the walk out, your mind spinning with memories of hands and voices you still see sometimes when you're trying to fall asleep.

"Y/N." Your eyes snap up to Emily's as she strolls alongside you. "You okay?"

She looks sincere, and you find yourself wanting to talk all of a sudden. You nod, heaving out a sigh. "Yeah, it just feels very fresh all over again."

"I can imagine." She takes your hand and gives it a small squeeze. "You can come to me if you need a break from all of it."

She leaves you with an earnest smile, and you realize, not for the first time, how glad you are that she's on the team.

***

You aren't able to save Rebecca Garner this time. Frank kills her, and you once again feel that familiar bitterness of nausea rising in your throat as you see her mutilated body.

When you realize he's going to go after children again, you join Hotch and Morgan as they go to Tracey Belle's house.

"We need a crime scene team," Hotch barks into his comm when the home comes up empty, no trace of anyone inside.

"That's my house!"

You turn around and see Tracey's parents running up to the entrance, panic reflected in their eyes.

Hotch steps forward to block them. "Mr. Belle..."

"You have to let us in. My daughter's in there."

He turns to the mother. "Ma'am, you can't go in right now."

"Where's Tracy? Where is she?"

You can see the interaction pulling him down, like a ship anchored to the sea floor.

"What's important to know right now is Tracy is alive, okay? Your daughter's alive."

S.W.A.T. takes the parents aside to explain the situation to them in more detail, and you go to Hotch's side as a pained expression crosses his face. More than anything, you want to comfort him. To tell him that Tracey isn't Jack, that this won't happen to him...but how can you?

Gideon's girlfriend was murdered tonight. Jeff was killed while undercover. Your mother was killed by a drunk driver. No one is ever really safe.

Your eyes flash back over to Mr. and Mrs. Belle, and your chest tightens almost uncontrollably as you imagine how scared Tracey must be.

When Emily and JJ find Jane in a holding cell at the local precinct, her knowledge of Frank's backstory provides more clues about his whereabouts. You go with JJ and Reid to his mother's apartment in Manhattan, while the rest of the team heads to the train station to find Frank.

The idea of Tracey being all alone, frightened for her life, plagues your every thought as the three of you drive to the city. You try to clear your mind as you push through the front door and check for any sign of life. Instead, what you find is the dusty corpse of Frank's late mother.

"Guys, over here." Reid points to a latched door. Stepping around the bed, you immediately unlock the door and throw it open, revealing the tiny, shivering form of Tracey.

"Oh, sweetie," you gasp as sits up in fright, her posture only relaxing once she sees the FBI vests. "You're okay, honey."

You undo the ties on her wrists and she all but falls forward and into your arms. You pull her into a tight hug, making sure to be careful of any possible injuries she could have sustained. The feeling of her chest rising and falling against yours brings you a familiar comfort, and you squeeze her tighter, before finally letting go.

***

He finds himself in Strauss's office again as he explains what happened with the Frank case. How he killed himself and Jane, but he can't bring himself to take that as a failure, because he knows she never would've found the strength to leave him anyway. "Once again, the team has battled a monster and won."

"The future of the BAU is not in the balance here." Her eyes are brimming with scorn. "The residual impact as a result of the investigations into the crimes and criminals you pursue is. Every cause has its effect."

He almost scoffs. "You think I don't know that?"

"I believe you are no longer effective in your post."

There it is. He knows she never liked the way he handled his team. The next words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. "The modern furniture, strategically placed magazines, the framed diplomas, the art on the wall are all in conflict with your family photos."

Her eyes widen but he just continues, undeterred.

"You have three children, but you favor the middle one, your son."

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Of course you love all your children," he shrugs, "but not like your son."

Strauss twists her hand into a fist. "That's enough."

"The bonsai that you obsessively nurture is to compensate for feelings of failure as a mother..."

"Agent Hotchner," she says, her voice bordering on rage. "I said that is enough. My position is not in question here. As your superior I am questioning your ability to lead your team."

"My team?" he scoffs, unable to keep the malice from his tone. "Let me tell you about my team. Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him. Why? Because trust has to be earned and there are very few people he truly trusts.

"Reid's intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions and at the moment his shield is under repair.

"Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn't yet feel she's a part of the team. She needn't worry.

"Every day, Agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team. And every night she goes home hoping she's made the right choices.

"Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens.

"Agent Gideon in many ways is damned by his profound knowledge of others, which is why he shares so little of himself. Yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.

"And Agent L/N," he pauses finally, taking a moment to find himself again, "she has taken the immense loss that life has handed to her and transformed it, not into cynicism, but into empathy, for her team, for the victims, for the world."

Strauss doesn't say anything, and he can't help the vindication that shines through his voice as he says, "I stand by my actions and I stand by my team. And if you think that you can find a better person for the job, good luck."

"Agent Hotchner," she emphasizes, making him look back at her one last time.

"How do I know you favor your son?"

She simply looks at him, a mixture of irritation and shame on her face.

"I'm good at my job."

***

"What's wrong?" Hotch looks up in surprise as you sidle up next to him. He was staring at the portrait of the FBI director, hanging in the hallway outside the bullpen, and he only does that when he's professionally stressed.

He looks like he wants to avoid the question, but you fix him with a glare that makes him sigh. "We're being evaluated."

"Doesn't that happen every year?" you ask, still not understanding.

"It's six months early."

You take a deep breath. This past year has been tough for everybody, but you think the team has come through the other side better people. "So they're assessing our unit. It'll be fine, we did great work this year."

"The only file they didn't request was mine."

That sends a spike of anxiety through your bloodstream, but he doesn't need your fear. "They could never fire you. You stepped up to the plate when Gideon left. You helped make this unit what it is."

You're the reason I joined at all, you want to say. You made this unit my family. I can't imagine being here without you.

But that isn't fair. He doesn't need to carry this with you. This burden of having no one else.

So instead you just smile at him, bump his shoulder with yours, and say, "You're going to be fine. This team wouldn't be the same without you."

TAGLIST: @citrusiove, @distortionbobble, @sanayikes (message me to be added!)

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Clipboard Boy | Evan Buckley

// Pairing // Firefighter!Evan Buckley x Firefighter!Fem!Reader

// Summary // Buck being Buck when he has a clipboard in his hands but luckily there is one person he has respect then — you.

// Wordcount // 1.469 Words

// Warnings // idiots in love, mention of drugs, spoiler of 911 (S2 E6), language

// Events // BuddieAugust | Row Two-Three | 118 | seasonal-delights-bingo: types of love | O5 | silent hugs | @seasonaldelightsbingo | Hurt — Comfort Bingo | BO32 | Row Three-Three | Idiots in love | @hurtcomfort-bingo

// Masterlist | Evan Buckley Masterlist //

Some people walk past it and ignore it; some people have a look at it. One cares, the other doesn’t. And then there is your boyfriend, Evan Buckley. He cares a lot when it comes to clipboards, especially when he can walk around with one, with checklists, or with just some tasks he can give to others.

Evan loves to command others around, especially his friends and family — the 118. But not everyone loves Buck with a clipboard, and you never wondered why because the moment he has a clipboard in his hands, he is an idiot.

A while ago, Chimney and Hen tried to hide all the clipboards in the station — but luckily for Buck, he had one in his locker. The smile on his face was huge and adorable as he lifted the board and showed it around. “Look at that! You think you can hide them? I have more of them,” he shouted and winked at you before starting to check if everyone was doing their work.

Even Eddie and Ravi tried to convince Bobby that he should never — NEVER! — give a clipboard to Buck or else they would be in so much trouble while Bobby has his day free. It’s not that Bobby would choose Buck to be the leader, but the young man learned that the moment he has a clipboard in his hands, everyone is doing what he says — everyone but you.

You’re the exception when it comes to Buck and his behavior. And you love the effect you have on him. If you walk into a room and he shouts around some jokes, he is immediately quiet and stares at you, following every small movement you make with a soft smile on his face. He would love to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you as close as possible, but he doesn’t dare to do so — he doesn’t even dare to ask you out on a date.

Buck loves to stare at you, study you, or just hear you talking while you stand with your back toward him and talk to Hen about things. Everyone loves you. The moment you walked into the station to introduce yourself, they adored you. You’re always nice, sweet, and loving. And you’re the only one who can stop Evan Buckley from being a clipboard idiot.

Also today, he is walking around with his clipboard in his hands, smirking at everyone while commanding them to do things. “No! No! You have to order them the other way around,” he groans and points at the bandage Hen is ordering right now.

“Buck! You can be annoyed with that clipboard. Put it away and help us,” she says, rolling her eyes but doing as she is told. No one wants to argue with Clipboard Buck.

The one time Eddie tried to argue, it ended with them giving Buck the name “clipboard idiot” whenever he has a clipboard. Evan isn’t good with arguments, but he can continue that as long as he wants until everyone is annoyed — even Eddie, who is his best friend and used to Buck being Buck. But the clipboard idiot? Eddie will probably never be used to that man.

“Evan Buckley!” You shout through the station, getting everyone’s attention, especially Bucks, who almost drops the clipboard. Chimney is already almost lying underneath Buck on the floor to grasp the clipboard when it falls, but the young man holds it tightly while turning his head to look at you.

“Y-yes?” He asks, smirking softly, but he knows that the clipboard in his hands doesn’t help him. His ocean blue eyes meet yours, and his knees feel suddenly so weak that he thinks he will drop to them every second.

“I thought Bobby said you should stop being the ‘clipboard idiot’,” you say, raising an eyebrow. It’s not exactly what he said, because Bobby wouldn’t call Buck an idiot — even though he thinks that when it comes to the clipboard idiot. But Bobby made it clear that when he has his day off, Hen will be the captain, and Buck isn’t allowed to touch a clipboard.

“I- uhm. I— Did he really call me a clipboard idiot?” A soft blush creeps up his cheeks.

“No, he didn’t. But we all know that you’re such an idiot when you get a fucking clipboard in your hands. And you know that I’m going to publish that video when you command everyone around; Bobby already allowed it,” you say with a smirk. Bobby allowed you to use whatever it needed to get the clipboard out of Buck's hands, and you know that this video would make him hand you the clipboard in no time.

It’s actually a pretty funny and cute video, but he was accidentally on drugs, like the rest of the station. And Buck being on drugs is the most hilarious thing ever.

Buck and Eddie stand in front of a few little girls in costumes. It’s a party where a woman was hit with a shoe, which is now stuck to her cheek. However, Buck and Eddie just stare at these girls, giggling, while the girls look at the two big firefighters.

“These beauty queens shrink,” Buck mumbles quietly. He doesn’t want to scare the queens away. Eddie nods his head, agreeing with Buck, but the blond-haired man already has another reason why these queens look so much smaller than themselves. “And we’re certainly giants.”

Chimney looks around, waiting for them to help him with the woman, but Buck and Eddie just stare at the girls. Bucks mouth is dropped open, while Eddie just studies them.

When Athena walks toward them to get the woman who threw the shoe out of the room, she looks with narrowed eyes at the firefighter in front of him.

“Hi, Athena,” Buck says, excited. “These are— like the tiniest ladies I’ve ever seen. Teeny tiny,” Buck explains, showing with his fingers that he means really, really small, and then he giggles once again. “They are so tiny, teeny tiny queens.”

And you filmed it all, while Eddie and Hen weren’t too weird at first. Buck was really hilarious, and even though you would never publish it, it’s a good way to get the clipboard from him.

“So gimme the clipboard, and we’re good,” you say, with a soft smile. Buck hesitates a moment, considering if he should ask you out or not.

“Get a room! You two are so obviously in love that you don't even notice it,” Chiney says, shaking his head while he laughs. Yours and Bucks heads turn toward your friend, your eyes widen, and your mouth drops open.

Is it really that obvious that you’re in love with Buck? And even more important, how can he know that about Buck?

“You really didn’t notice that?” Hen asks, earning a shake of your head. Even Buck is shaking his head, looking with wide eyes at Hen now. “Clipboard Buck is only nice when you’re around, and you’re comfortable enough to tell him that he is an idiot and has to give you the clipboard. Of course, you two are in love. Are you two thinking we don’t notice the smiles and gazes the two of you share? You should definitely get a room before you undress one another here.”

You blush immediately, turning your head to Buck to hide not only your smile but also your red cheeks. He always wraps his arms around you and lets you hide your face in his broad chest when you need a hug, so maybe he will do it this time too?

Buck grins, opening his arms for you to walk closer and let him wrap his strong arms around you. Everyone chuckles at you, your face pressed into Buck's chest and his arms holding you close while he rests his chin on your head.

“Do you want to go out with me?” He asks quietly, so no one will understand, but everyone knows what he asks, so suddenly it’s quiet; everyone is waiting for your answer. Will you?

“Yes, I would love to,” you giggle, looking up at him to meet his ocean blue eyes filled with love and admire the soft smile on his lips. Hen and Eddie are the first to cheer — because you and Buck finally go on a date together and because they bet that the two of you needed your friends to tell you that you’re in love with one another — so they aren’t just happy for you but also because they get some money for themselves.

“But now! Put the clipboard away and hear what the captain says,” Hen says, laughing and getting up from where she is sitting and ordering the bandage. “Do you work, Buckley, and help us clean the cars!”

// Taglist // @lives-in-midgard @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @somnorvos @meowmeowyoongles @rogersbarber