#I don’t know I’ll talk with my therapist about in tomorrow and see if that can’t help me talking about these feelings

[whatthefuckisneurotypical]

wow. um. you know you’re traumatized when you see a tiktok of a mom surprising her daughter by being at her wedding dress fitting, and your first thought is “oh ABSOLUTELY not, FUCK that, that would be TERRIBLE.” like. the idea of my mom surprising me by showing up at a wedding dress fitting makes me upset and anxious and just sounds all-around awful. she would be intruding and overstepping her bounds and being presumptuous in that situation. it wouldn’t be cute or funny for me. it would just fucking suck.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Different Universes (Hannibal)

Description: Y/N ends up in the Hannibal universe and Hannibal falls for her

Warning: Smut, Cheating (sorta)

Word Count: 2,526k

Request: could you write a fanfic where the reader is a big fan of the Hannibal series, just goes about her day normaly,falls asleep and then wakes up in the Hannibal universe. She tries to figure out where she is (without knowing that she is in an alt. universe) and witnesses an actual murder, but manages to escaped unscathed with her knowledge of the Hannibal universe. After that she is contacted by the FBI, who want to interrogate her and this is how she ultimatly meets Dr.Lecter, who will be her therapist.(with her realising who he is).He quickly gets intrigued with her and wants to get to kniw her. Would it be possible to end it with some smut? Sorry, if this a really odd request.

Author’s note: I changed some things up but I really like these sort of requests. Also I work all day tomorrow so I will post two fics today.

Being married to a celebrity had it’s pros and cons. Cons being that fans were everywhere and so was paparazzi. You could never get a break. But the fans are what made Y/N’s husband who he is today and his talent of course. Pros being that the one person everyone thirst for on the internet you have. They love you and that it makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world. And of course when you see them on TV it’s like watching your husband. Oh wait, it is. Y/N and Mads have been together for 5 years, married for 1. They were 20 years apart but that didn’t mean anything to them. Y/N is a fan of Hannibal and watches it all the time, like right now.

She always wondered what it would be like to be in the show. It was something that crossed her mind often. She even read fanfic about her husband’s character. She would give anything to be in that universe even for a day. So When she wakes up outside Hannibal’s house, she isn’t too upset. At first she didn’t realize where she was, but it looked familiar. It took a minute but she gasped so hard she started choking once she realized it. She was outside Hannibal Lecter’s house. She looked around in awe, she couldn’t believe that she was here.

She walked around his house for a little bit, exploring the place. “Can I help you?” She heard it was her husband’s accent. She turned towards the voice and gasped. It was Mads except it wasn’t, it was Hannibal. “You look lost.” He stated as she looked at him in awe. She couldn’t say anything, too shocked. “Can you talk?” He asked after a while of silence. “Yeah I uh yes.” She said, making the man chuckle. “Are you okay?” He asked. “I don’t know.” She answered, she really didn’t. “Come inside. I’ll make you something to eat.” She got excited at first but realized that Hannibal was a cannibal.

“Uh I’ll just take some tea.” She said as they walked in his house. His house looked like it did on the show. He poured the tea and she watched him. “Can you tell me why you were outside my house?” He asked as he handed her the tea. “I actually don’t know. One minute I’m on the couch in my house watching TV, the next I’m here.” He hummed at her words. “So you sleep walk?” He asked. She shook her head, “No.” He looked at her as she drank from the cup. She was beautiful and he felt like he knew her. “I feel like you do and don’t realize it. Have you ever woken up in a weird place before?” He asked, she shook her head. “No. This is a first.” She said.

He got up and walked upstairs leaving her there in her thoughts. Moments later he returned with a notebook. “I thought I recognized you. You’re my new patient. Y/N.” She looked at him confused. “Patient?” She asked. “Jack Crawford assigned you to me after you witnessed a murder.” She had no memory of this. “Um okay.” She said still confused but realized that she had woken up in this universe and this wasn’t a dream. She was a part of this show. Though she had no memory prior to waking up outside his house. “Right. Sorry I just forgot.” She lied. He nodded and opened the notebook. “I guess we can start our session now. Wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” He said. She looked at him as he wrote some things down. “Okay Ms. Y/N tell me what you remember about the murder.” She was fucked.

After the session was over she realized that she probably couldn’t stay here even though she hadn’t had a place to go. “I will see you next week.” He told her as she walked out of his house. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She had no memory of anything that he said. So she certainly doesn’t remember where her home would be. As she left his house she thought of what she could do. Thought of going back and falling asleep by his house but what would she do for a week? She huffed as she walked back to his house and rang the door bell. He answered and she sighed, “Can I stay the night?” 

It was beyond her why he agreed without explanation. She sat in the bed that he gave her and just thought. Thought about how crazy this was and how apart of her wants to go back to her universe. As she sat on the bed thinking she heard a knock. “Come in.” She said and Hannibal walked into the room. He saw how distraught she looked and he sat by her. “You okay?” He asked, concerned in his eyes. She looked at him, god he looked so much like her husband. She knew that he basically was but he wasn’t. “I don’t know.” She whispered. “Is this about not having any memory at first?” She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him the truth, that she wasn’t from this universe and that she’s married to his actor but he would probably think she’s nuts. But she couldn’t live in this world alone.

“I’m gonna say something and it’s going to sound crazy but I need you to bare with me.” He nods. She lets out a sigh and looks away from him. “I’m not from here.” She says. He looks at her confused, “What do you mean?” “Like this universe. I’m from a different one and in that universe this is a tv show called Hannibal. If i’m not mistaken given what you’re wearing this is season two and Will Graham is in prison for crimes he did not commit. You committed them but don’t worry I won’t tell. And your actor is my husband Mads Mikkelsen.” His jaw dropped and he looked at her in shock. He wasn’t quite sure he believed her. But how did she know that he was the killer? “Mads Mikkelsen?” He asked. She raised an eyebrow at him.

That’s really what he got out of all of that. “Yes that’s my husband, that’s you just in a different universe.” He didn’t know what to say, she sounded crazy. “I know I sound crazy.” “Well I wouldn’t say that.” He tried, she rolled her eyes. “But i’m telling the truth. That’s why I don’t remember anything from here like the murder or the FBI.” “But you told me the story.” “I lied.” He nodded. “I’m sorry Hannibal. I know this is a lot to hear.” “I’m a TV Show character and my actor is married to you and you are well aware that i’m the killer.” He summed up what he could.

She looked at her hands, “You have to believe me.” He looked at her. She had to be crazy, none of it made sense. Though he could read people very well and she didn’t seem like she was lying. “Do I ever get caught?” He asked. She looked at him, “Yes but you escape.” He nodded. “With Will. I mean you two are basically in love.” He gave her a weird look. “I’m not in love with Will.” She looked at him with a “really?” look. “I’m not.” He said. She shook her head, “yeah whatever you say.” “Does he love me?” She chuckled at the question but nodded. “One might say he does but you guys don’t get together. You almost kiss but that’s it. You might be together after the show ends. There isn’t a fourth season.” She tells him. “This is unique.” He told her and she laughed. “I know but it’s all true.” “So since the man you call Mads? Plays me do you find me attractive?” He asked. She looked at him, red in the face.

“I mean yeah. Of course I do.” She said. “So then if I kissed you, you’d be okay with it?” Her jaw was on the floor. “I uh I mean yeah. Yes, I would like that.” She said. He leaned in and kissed her. She was shocked that it came down to this moment but she wasn’t complaining. She kissed him back and cupped his face. Their lips moved in sync as thoughts were racing through both of their minds. This was all crazy. She got up and straddled him, pulling him closer. His hands were placed on her hips as she deepened the kiss. Her hands ran through his hair. “Have you always wanted to do this?” He asked against her lips. She nodded out of breath. “Yes.” He smirked and ran his fingers over her lips. “Have you thought about having sex with me?” She nodded and pushed him down so he was laying on the bed. His hands went under her shirt and she pulled it off her body revealing a red lace bra that she had on. His hands immediately went to her boobs. “You’re so beautiful.” He tells her and removes the bra.

She lets it fall off her before she throws it with her shirt. Her hands travel down his white shirt that he was in. He looked so good in PJ’s. “Take this off.” She tells him. He leans up and takes the shirt off, throwing it with her things. He didn’t have abs per say but he was still the hottest man she’s ever seen. She gets off him to remove her panties and he removes his PJ pants and boxers. She straddles him again and looks down at him. He looked up at her like she was his whole world, in her universe she was. His hands pulled her hips closer to where she was almost lined up with him. She looked down and saw his hard dick. Same size and thickness as her husband. He watched her as she lined herself up and slowly sat on his dick. He felt her walls taking him in like they were made for each other. She let out little moans until he was all the way in her.

His hands held her hips again and she began riding him. She went slow at first building up the pleasure. They didn’t break eye contact as her jaw dropped. It felt so good. He could feel her walls clenching him and it made him groan. How was he supposed to be in love with Will when she was here? Her hips started moving faster and faster making the pleasure more intense. Both of them making noise now, enjoying the moment. She leaned down and kissed him, silencing her moans. Their lips moved together in a sloppy kiss. It wasn’t a neat kiss, it was tongue and teeth and everything was put into it. Hannibal’s hands gripped her back as he felt himself getting closer. She gasped into his mouth as she felt her high near. Her eyes rolled back as her hips went faster.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face, it was like a pretty painting that he longed to see. She was so close she could taste it. “Are you going to cum, pretty girl?” He asked her. That’s all it took. She was cumming all over him with whines of his name. Seeing her cum, made him cum even harder. With a groan of her name he released inside of her. Her hips slowly move to ride out their orgasms. Her moans die down and her hips stop. She looks down at the man still shock that he’s Hannibal fucking Lecter. He stares back at her with a look in his eyes she knows all too well. It’s the same look her husband gives her. Is this man in love with her? 

She had to get back to her universe. This was so nice but she didn’t belong here. She belonged with Mads not Hannibal but since Mads plays Hannibal she does love him. But the time she has spent with him has been amazing and she didn’t wanna leave but she also wanted to get back to her life. Hannibal was a killer after all. She knows how this story ends and she truly thinks Will and him are meant to be.

As much as she loves him she doesn’t wanna change that. But these past few weeks have been amazing. She laid her on Hannibal’s chest as they just talked. “Is your universe different from this one?” He asked. It kinda was in a sense that the issues going on in this universe were the only focus and in her universe they aren’t just main focuses like that. Everyone has got their own problems. “It feels the same but from watching it on TV no.” Will’s powers that he has as well. “And Will’s visions.” “Now I definitely believe you.” He joked and they both laughed. This was nice. Not having any actual problems besides to get back to her universe. “When does Will get out of prison?” He asked. She shouldn’t tell him. “Soon.” Was all she said. 

She sat at the table as she watched him make dinner. It was like a routine. She loved doing it but as she watched them cook, she realized that this was the stuff that her and Mads did. They had a life together and this reflected that. “I’ve really enjoyed our time together, Hannibal.” She said with a smile as she drank from her wine glass. He smiled and gave her a plate. “I have to.” Her smile dropped slightly as she looked up at him. “I uh wish I could stay.” She said. “You can.” He told her. “I can’t though. I have a husband and life to get back to.” She told him. “I’m your husband though. I mean technically.” She looks at him and sighs, “You are but you aren’t. My husband isn’t a cannibal. He just plays one on TV.” “So I’m just a TV character to you.” That knocked the wind right out of her.

That was something she never thought she’d ever hear. She loved fictional characters so much and they were so much more than that but hearing that question made her sick. “No Hanni you’re not you’re so much more than that but you gotta look at it from my perspective this wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t even know how it happened.” She told him. “To you it wasn’t. But this to me was a blessing.” He took her hands. She looked up at him from her seat. “Stay with me, Y/N. I can give you all he can.” But he couldn’t and they both have different endings that don’t include each other. “Hannibal you’re amazing but we aren’t meant to be together.” She said. “Then how come you’re here?” She didn’t have an answer for that. She truly didn’t know. Luck? She didn’t have an answer to his question but all she knew was that she had to get back to her universe

[tiredfox64]

Sooo I was thinking of Tomas trying to learn how to flirt because he wants to impress the reader however the reader (who has feelings in return) catches him flirting with another female Shirai Ryu member and mistakes it as he has feelings for someone else, cries about it to Kuai Liang who decides to help the reader out by taking her on a "date" to make Smoke jealous. When Smoke sees them together on their "date", he becomes consume with jealousy that fires him up to tackle Kuai Liang and bluntly tells the reader how he feels. 😅😅

It Should Be Me!

Prior notes: Oooh i like this one. I hope you don’t mind me using my oc as a place holder for the female Shirai Ryu member.

Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader, and Kuai Liang is there I guess

Warnings ‼️: Silly goose, there is none! I think

Who fell harder: You or Tomas? Could be both. You sure do like each other a whole lot.

Conversation that last for hours. Training together even though he should be focusing on the others. Showing each other your favorite genres of music. Oh the memories get you kicking your feet and rolling around in bed. Everyone thinks you two would look cute together. A perfect match really. But one of you has got to confess already. Ah but it won’t be you.

You are brave enough to take a horde of assassins head on. Confessing to someone that you like them takes a whole different kind of braveness. A kind that you have to build up. For now you will carry on with the hope that no one else tries to take your man. Actually, now would be the usual time you would meet up with him. Get to it, honey!

You were about to round the corner until you heard Tomas. You stopped yourself, peeking your head out to see who he was talking to. He was talking to the new girl. There was something strange going on. Her giggling, his closeness to her, that look he was giving her, that tone in his voice. Oh no! He’s flirting with her.

You heard it, compliments about her eyes and how any man would be lucky enough to have a funny girl like her around. You practically felt your heart rip apart. It hurt to hear those words being told to another girl. You always wished he would say such things to you. A wish that may never come true now. To you it was already over. It seemed he picked another girl over you and you’re left questioning what did she do that you didn’t.

Your eyes started to grow watery and the last thing you wanted was for Tomas to see you cry over this. It was his decision on who to date, you can’t change that fact. You silently walked away while you sniffled and wiped your tears with your sleeve. The only person you trusted to share this heartbreak with was Kuai Liang. At least you knew he wouldn’t judge you since he’s not that kind of guy.

But wait! You made a mistake! You didn’t hear the rest of their conversation.

“Ah Tomas, you’re getting better every day with your pick up lines. Soon enough you’ll be getting more girls than Johnny does.” The girl complimented him.

“Aw thanks, Kris. But you know I’m only doing this for you know who.” He whispered the last part, unsure if you were around or not.

“Oh yes, yes, yes. Well I can certainly say that she will fall for your charm easily now, if she hasn’t already done so. When do you plan on asking her out?”

“Tomorrow. There’s a festival going on and I was hoping she would say yes to going with me. When we are there I’ll ask her to be my girlfriend.”

The look of Tomas’ face showed how enthusiastic he was to ask you out. He was clueless to the fact that there was some miscommunication before he could communicate to you. That girl was already hyping him up to go find you and ask if you wanna go to the festival tomorrow. You were already in Kuai Liang’s office when they were done talking.

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“I don’t know what happened. I thought he liked me.” You cried into your hands while Kuai Liang just sat there awkward.

Therapist was not in his occupation but looks like he has to play that role for you. He is somewhat confused of Tomas’ actions. He thought his brother liked you a lot considering how much he gushed over you. If his brother changed his mind suddenly he had no idea about it.

Kuai Liang lightly patted your back to soothe you, “I am unsure of what to tell you. Just…please stop crying, it will be okay.”

He wasn’t being mean he just didn’t want anything bad between you guys. Kuai Liang conjured a plan in his head of what to do while still trying to soothe you. An idea popped up in his head. It may have seemed extreme but he wanted to fix the issue fast and effectively.

“Okay, how about this. I take you on a “date” to the festival tomorrow. Someone will tell Tomas where you are and the thought of being with me might make him realize he wants you instead.” He tried to sound confident with this plan like it could actually work.

“Your plan is to make him jealous?” You asked as your crying died down.

“I guess you could say that. Do you have anything better?”

You immediately nodded your head no. Even if the plan didn’t work out at least you could get out for once. Spending time wouldn’t be bad either. You just wished it was with Tomas.

Will you ever recover from this sorrow?

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Plans were set into motion. You had your plan and Tomas had his. Tomas was preparing himself to ask you to go to the festival with him. He was all giddy and he came walking up to you with a warm smile on his face. His heart was pumping just thinking about you saying yes. His emotions made him miss the sour expression on your face.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you. I had something important to ask you.” He started off.

“Oh yeah…what is it?” You seemed dismissive but once again his emotions made him miss that.

“I was wondering if you and I could go to the festival tomorrow. I thought it would be nice. Plus I’d love to go out with a pretty girl like you.”

He thought his flirting would really get you this time. This should have been easy but what you said next shocked him to his core.

“No, I’m already going out with your brother. It’s a date.” You said it so casually before walking off as if you didn’t just crush this man.

How could this happen? This was a joke right? Yeah, this had to be. You were joking with him and you would actually come around later to tell him to come with you to the festival. Oh you’re so silly…right?

Tomas was in a daze throughout the rest of the day which continued over to the next. You saw the plan was actually working so you planned to continue with it. Though it still saddened you that he didn’t try to stop you already or ask why you were doing this.

Have patience, soon he will take action.

He was pacing around in his room, blabbering to the same girl he was practicing his flirting with about how you were just messing with him.

“I mean it just doesn’t make any sense. The two are close but never would I think they were that close. We are the ones who are that close. Oh what am I thinking? I’m sure she will be coming around soon and just tell me it was a prank and then we’ll go out there and I’ll ask her to be my girlfriend.” Yeah, yeah that should be right.

“Tomas.”

“What.”

“They’re leaving.” The girl pointed her thumb to the window where Tomas saw you and Kuai Liang leaving for the festival.

Tomas immediately bolted out the door. He didn’t care if he looked crazy to the other clan members for running out into the world, he had to catch you.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You sighed in disappointment. The festival seemed wonderful with warm lighting around and yummy smelling food. If only you could’ve spent the time with Tomas. You kept walking with Kuai Liang, arms locked as if you two were on an actual date. He looked at you with a concerned expression. He was hoped this would go differently but he’ll do his best to make the most of it for you.

“I’m sorry about the outcome. I was sure my brother would come after you once he found out you were going with me.” Kuai Liang apologized since he didn’t want you feeling heartbroken.

“It’s not your fault. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.” Your voice cracked a little when you said that.

Kuai Liang brought you in a hug, having your head rest on his shoulders. He whispered to you that it will be alright and he’ll buy you some food. That should help.

Unbeknownst to both of you, Tomas was nearby watching you two. He really couldn’t believe you were out with his brother. When Kuai Liang pulled you into a hug it damn near drove the man crazy. He could never hurt his brother but this was the first time he has ever felt the need to destroy him. And when Kuai Liang started to rest his head on top of your head Tomas thought he was going in to kiss you.

A blaze of fury ignited in his body. Hell hath no fury like a man who is after a woman. By the gods he was pissed!

When Kuai Liang pulled away from you, Tomas saw that as the opportunity to attack his brother. Kuai Liang had no time to react as he heard the quick footsteps coming right towards him. His brother slammed into him, tackling him to the ground with a harsh thud emitting from the crash. Kuai Liang was in a daze as Tomas grabbed him by the collar of his uniform.

“How could you?! You know how much I like her! How could my own brother do this to me?” He kept shaking Kuai Liang.

Like? Wait, did you hear that right? Did he just say that he likes you a lot?

Tomas turned his full attention towards you now while still on his knees.

“Please don’t do this to me. Don’t go out with my brother. I’m the one who loves you. Don’t you remember all those nights we would listen to music together? I want to have many more nights like those but with you as my girlfriend instead of just being my friend. I love you.” He announced.

You looked down at him with shock. His eyes are begging you to accept his affection. His tone showed he was desperate and possibly even worried you wouldn’t date him.

“Bu-but I thought you were trying to go after Kris. I heard you flirting with her.”

“No,” he started to get back on his feet, “She was teaching me how to flirt. I was hoping to impress you. I just really wanted you to be my girlfriend and I didn’t want to ruin my chances.”

A blush crept onto his cheeks as he felt embarrassed for admitting that. He was also embarrassed that he was caught before and that the incident caused this great confusion.

Knowing the truth, your heart started to flutter as you realized he was doing all that just to get with you. In a way those words that he said to that girl were actually meant for you. He truly is the sweetest guy around.

You practically leapt onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your lips attacked his lips in a passionate kiss. You were overjoyed by the fact he wants you as his girlfriend. The extent he went through just to better his chances showed he is committed to you. This is like a dream come true for you.

Tomas was surprised by the hug and kiss but happily accepted it. His arms wrapped around your waist. This was a magical moment for him. It didn’t go as planned but he is happy that the outcome still gained him a wonderful girlfriend. He placed you back on the ground while smiling at you. And then he remembered what he just did to his brother. He swiftly turned around and saw his brother wasn’t lying on the ground anymore.

“He must have walked off. Don’t worry, he’s capable of taking a hit.” You tried to calm Tomas’ concerns which luckily worked.

“Yeah, that must be it,” He started looking around, “Well, I would hate to waste this opportunity with you. How about we explore the festival together. As girlfriend and boyfriend.”

“I would like that a lot.” You smiled at him as you two locked arms.

The night ended off on a good note. You enjoyed your time with Tomas at the festival. A warmth enveloped you as you recognize that this is no dream but a reality. A reality where you and him are happy. Just the way you guys both want it.

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Bonus ending

“Damn! You got knocked the fuck out.”

Kuai Liang heard a familiar voice speak to him as they grunted from yanking on his body. Warm liquid spilled on his face and when he opened his eyes he saw Kris dragging him while drooling over the grilled squid she had in her mouth. He grimaced as he wiped her drool off his face.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Like I said you got knocked the fuck out. Yup, Tomas done fucked you up.” She responded very casually.

“Kris, please refrain from cursing it’s improper. Now help me up.”

He expected Kris to do as he said but she just dropped him.

“What are you talkin about? It’s not improper. I’m just puttin some fuckin love in there. You can drag your ass back home yourself, grandmaster.”

He watched as she started to walk away, more focused on the grilled squid on a stick. When did she even have time to get that?

“Alright! You can curse. Just help me up.”

She listened this time and yanked him to his feet. Poor Kuai Liang, may the elder gods help him.

After notes: I got a 90 on my asl final yippie! And I should have been working on final papers but instead I was finishing this fic at school. Pick and choose, people, pick and choose. Now I better get my ass to communications even tho I hate it. Adiós!

[cxsmicbaby]

something nice - 1

CHAPTER ONE OF A SERIES 

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings : smut at the end! cursing throughout. enjoy :)

you and hobie play a prank. miguel doesn’t like it, but he can never stay mad at you. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“And then... my uncle died.” 

“Mmhm.” The smell of hot coffee grows stronger. It’s mere inches away.. I just have to suffer through this for a moment longer. 

“And I realized. I’m not even real! I’m just a clone of the real Peter. And that totally destroyed me.”

“Oh wow,” I say, nodding. Ben, or Scarlet Spider, continues to go on about his tragic backstory, somehow still managing to flex his biceps as he begins to well up in tears. 

Finally, the spider in front of me finishes filling their mug and it’s my turn. God, if I had to stand in line with this melodramatic asshole for a second longer I think I would’ve tried to cut my own ears off. He’s still talking as I fill my cup with coffee, but this time I’m not listening. It’s probably some variation of the same things I’ve been through, anyhow. I wonder how Miguel is able to sit through thousands and thousands of these things whenever he recruits a new spider. He’s not a very patient guy. 

Miguel. He walks through the lobby at 5:30am, every morning. I woke up early today so that I would run into him. Not like I said anything to him; I walked past him, smiling, and he just grunted. Just about what I expected. But I still woke up early to see him. I feel a little stupid thinking about it. I’ll probably do it again tomorrow. 

“Yeah, Ben, that really sucks. Maybe you should see a therapist.” I turn and give him a pat on the shoulder, smiling as genuinely as I can. He nods, and wipes his teary eyes. This guy cries way too easily. 

I swing off into the main lobby. Thank god, I can be free. I don’t know what the plan is today, but I’m always up for an adventure. 

“Oi!” I hear, and behind me Hobie is swinging forward, his mask already on. That must mean there’s something happening. Regardless, I’m always happy to see him. He’s probably the only person I really talk to here; other than Miguel. 

“Hey! Got anything for me?” I ask, as we land on a free platform. Hobie pauses for a moment before he starts digging around in his pockets, and pulls out a bag of my favorite snack from his universe; unfortunately, it doesn’t exist anywhere else, so I depend on this not-so-dependable guy to bring them for me. 5/10 times he actually remembers it. 

“What’s with the drink? I thought you hated coffee,” he asks, plopping himself down on the edge of the platform. I do the same, and we watch as the spiders swing and climb all over the place, like a jungle gym. Every time I take a step back from this whole thing like this, it always amazes me. Just a few weeks ago, I was stuck in a universe where I was the only one, and now I’m in a place where everyone is just as corny as me. It’s lovely. 

“I do,” I start, taking a sip of it. I fight the way my lips threaten to purse in disgust. “I needed a pick me up.”

“Ah.” Hobie pulls at a loose thread of his shirt and smiles deviously. “Up all night thinking about Miguel, huh?” 

Hobie is far too observant for my liking. There’s nothing that gets past him, which is great for combat, but not great for me. 

I swallow hard, and shake my head. “No. And you should stop saying shit like that! What if someone overhears? They’ll think something weird is going on.”

“Like?” Here we go. 

“Like. They’ll think I’m in love with him or something. We’re just friends. He’s cool. I’m cool. Everything’s cool.” I sound like an idiot, and I know Hobie thinks the same when I hear him laugh. It’s like I’m a fucking teenager again, gossiping about my crush in the locker-room. I hated high school. 

“Cool, cool. Everything’s cool,” he teases, mocking me. 

We’re both quiet, basking for a moment in the odd sort of peace that comes out of this chaotic place. 

Hobie snickers softly, shaking his head at something that he’s thought of. “Heard some of the others talking bout how Miguel’s pickin’ favorites. Guess who’s the favorite?”

I sigh, and down the rest of the disgusting black liquid. “Whatever. I’m not his, uh. His favorite. He talks down to me like all the rest.” 

Hobie is quiet. That’s rare. When I look over at him he’s just staring down, a weird sort of smile still on his face. His fingers are drumming against the platform. 

“Hey, what’re we gonna do today? Please say you’ve got something fun.” 

That seems to get him, because his head perks up and that teasing expression is replaced by one of excitement. Thank god. If I had to talk about Miguel for another second it would not have ended well—I tend to get a little loose with the things I say the longer I’m forced to talk about them. 

“Something fun, eh? I’ve got something fun. But only if you’re up for it.” 

I smile. “You know I am.” 

Compared to a lot of the others, I’ve been here for a very short time. Still, I’ve learned the ins and outs, the dos and the don’ts. Like, do listen to what the higher ups (and Lyla) say. Don’t make fun of Miguel’s tediously slow entrance on that weird platform thing. Do make friends. Don’t be an ass. And for god’s sake, do not pull any pranks. 

The thing about spider people; we tend not to really listen to rules. 

Hobie and I are perched on a bar above the lobby. We’re trying to figure out the best way to go about things. Me, I think he should take charge, but he seems to think nobody really likes him, so they won’t listen. He thinks they’ll all fall in line with my beguiling feminine charms and do whatever I say. I think that sounds like bullshit, but I don’t really wanna do the other thing, so I agree to it. 

I drop down smack in the middle of a group of spider-people in a conversation. Immediately, I put on the most panicked expression I can muster and start running around frantically. 

“Jessica’s gone into labor! I repeat, Jessica is giving birth at this moment! Help her get back home so she can go to a hospital... or something!” I shout, trying to get as much attention as I possibly can. Of course, everyone loves Jessica, so everyone starts rushing to her aid. None of them actually know where she is, but they just launch into help-mode, as Spiderman does. Soon, the lobby is basically empty. Sometimes, I think about how gullible I must be if I’m really just a variation of this same person. 

“Coast’s clear,” Hobie calls, dropping down from above. “We don’t have a lotta time, gotta make this quick.” 

I frown. “We? But you said all I had to do was get them out!” 

“Yeah, that was a lie.” Hobie shrugs and tosses me a spray can. “Now, you gonna help or not?” 

The idea of getting caught spraying painting the building Miguel has built specifically for us makes me queasy. The idea of being caught doing anything that would make him upset makes me queasy. But if I back out now, then I just made a fool of myself for no reason. I don’t mind looking stupid, but it’s gotta be for a reason. 

I sigh, and reach up to tug my mask over my face in case someone realizes that Jessica is not even here right now, and decides to come back. I mean, not like I would really be hiding much, considering everyone knows what my suit looks like, but there’s no harm in it. 

The moment I pull it down, the room is doused in red light and an alarm starts blaring. Fuck. 

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, mate,” Hobie groans, tossing his head back in frustration. “That old man did not just sound the alarm ‘cause we’re pulling a goddamn prank. Might as well do as much as we can before the rest of ‘em come back.” 

That does not sound like a good idea. If Miguel is angry enough to turn on the alarm that signifies intruders, he will definitely not like us continuing in spite of his obvious warning. But Hobie’s already swinging up, spraying bright purple in a strangely elegant ribbon across the walls. I start to hear footsteps, but they’re far enough away that I think I have some time. So, despite my better judgement, I follow Hobie, tagging wherever he’s painted with a green design of my own. Gotta admit, it looks pretty dope. That assuages my fears somewhat and I find myself letting go a little, whooping in excitement as I swing around the lobby. 

Then, I hear it again. Footsteps, but I know these very specific footsteps. Heavy, fast, angry. My stomach drops and I land, turning to Hobie to see he’s still painting away. He probably hears it too, he just doesn’t care. I wish I could be as carefree as him. Especially when it came to this sort of thing. 

But I can’t. In fact, once Miguel actually appears in the room, hair slightly disheveled, face twisted up in an almost scary amount of anger, I freeze in place. God, he’s fucking fuming. His eyes sweep the room like we just painted Miguel Sux! in somebody’s blood. And then his gaze lands on me, and I feel myself shiver; in fear, in anticipation, in... something else. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Miguel bellows, and that catches Hobie’s attention. Before he can say anything else, the flake is gone. Typical Hobie. Saving his own ass. I can’t even really be mad at him, because if it weren’t for the annoying way my feet were sticking to the ground I would’ve done the same. 

The alarm shuts off, and the room goes deadly quiet. I’m still staring at him as he approaches me, his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths, probably trying to calm himself down. He needs to see a therapist, I think, but don’t have time to even smile at my own quip before he’s looming right above me. 

“Do you get joy out of causing this type of shit? Out of wasting everyone’s time?” Miguel spits, and I know I’m supposed to be hurt by what he’s saying, but god if I don’t wanna just pounce at him right here, right now. 

So I keep my mouth shut. He doesn’t seem to like that. His fists are clenched tight at his sides as he studies me. 

“You know, if I knew you were gonna be such a fucking nuisance, I would never have brought you here.”

Ouch. That one sort of hurts, so I take off my mask and I look up at him, trying to keep my composure. I frown. “It was just some harmless fun, Miguel. No need to get so mean about it.” 

That was not the right thing to say, apparently, because his eyebrows furrow even deeper. Before he can open his mouth to say something that will probably make me cry, I force a smile and swing up to the wall. 

“And it looks great! Don’t you think this place is too... I don’t know. Sterile? Everyone’s gonna love it.” I hope he can’t hear the way my voice is trembling. When I hear my words echo back to me, I’m relieved to find that I sound quite confident. I’ve always been good at that, faking like I know what I’m doing. I think that’s a Spider-man thing. 

Miguel doesn’t speak. He crosses his arms over his chest and inhales deeply, hanging his head. 

“You are going to clean this shit up. Understood? And when I find that little shit Hobie, I’m gonna tell him the same thing.” 

I think that’s the closest I’ll get to him saying he isn’t really that mad about it, and that’s good enough for me. I swing back down to stand in front of him, and this time when I smile, it’s real. 

“Are you sure? I’m telling you, it looks super—”

Miguel’s eyes narrow and I feel my stomach twist. “Don’t test me.” 

I straighten up and salute him, fighting the urge to run as Miguel’s eyes burn into mine. “Yes, sir!” 

I swear to god, he almost smiles, before he just shakes his head. 

“Don’t do shit like this again. I won’t go so easy on you next time.” 

                                                       𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“You don’t let yourself have anything, do you?” 

Miguel pauses. He finds himself looking up at you, despite the desire to remain stoic and focused and uninterested. It’s always hard to do that, with you. 

“What?” he says, his voice slightly biting. He means it to be. He wants to scare you away so you will leave him alone, finally. It’s been mere weeks since you joined them, and in those weeks, you have made it your mission to annoy him more than anyone ever has in his life. It’s like you live to bother him. He should hate it more than he does. 

He should hate your stupid fucking pranks and your dumb, unfunny jokes. But he doesn’t. He knew it was you today, even before he got to the lobby, but for some reason he wasn’t that mad. And then the fact that he wasn’t mad about it made him mad about it, and he was mean to you. He wants to apologize, but that’s not like him. Everything he does or feels when it comes to you is a contradiction to the person he has built himself up as. The whole thing is just so muddled up he’d rather ignore it. 

You sit on a metal box to his left, swinging your legs back and forth as you scrutinize him. Miguel doesn’t like how you always have this knowing look on your face, like you’re waiting for him to discover something you’ve already found out. Frankly, all the Spider-people have that sort of glint in their eyes, but with you it’s different. He bites the inside of his cheek and forces himself not to look away. 

“I mean, you don’t let yourself have anything nice, or fun. The closest you get to letting yourself feel happiness is those empanadas you make me bring you.” 

You smile at him, and he thinks to himself that he wishes you would do it more, but the moment the thought passes he stamps it out with a frown. 

“And even then, you always scowl when you eat them.” You cancel out his grimace with a little laugh that makes Miguel fucking furious.

“You know, it’s not in your best interest to keep talking about this. If causing a useless ruckus is fun to you, then yeah, I don’t fucking do that.” He practically spits it, and swivels his head to focus again on his work. He doesn’t know if he wants you to apologize or if he wants you to just go. Apologize? He’s kidding himself. You would never. 

He can’t help but listen carefully for your movements, wanting to hear if you’ll leave or not. But he hears nothing, and he turns again to see you just sitting there, swinging your feet. Still smiling. 

“What are you still doing here? Don’t you have shit to do?” Miguel asks, narrowing his eyes at you. He notices that his tone lacks the sting he meant it to deliver and chooses to ignore it. 

You boost yourself up from the box and stand. “Not really. Can’t I just stay? I won’t make any noise, promise.” 

Miguel frowns deeply. “That’s impossible.” But he doesn’t tell you to leave. 

You sigh, your body swaying side to side. Miguel thinks its a subconscious thing you do when you’re standing; most people would just be still, but he’s noticed that you cannot possibly remain perfectly in place for more than a few seconds. 

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna get some sleep. You should too.” You send him a small wink and turn, walking off toward the exit. You stop briefly, turning to face him with an expression he can’t quite read.

“And, uh. Sorry about today,” you call, and he says nothing. You turn again and he watches you leave. 

Everything has changed since you showed up, and if anything can be taken from his obsession with anomalies, it’s that Miguel hates change. Especially when it seems like there isn’t much changing for anyone but himself. 

It was him that found you. He went on a mission to a universe he had not yet traveled; a rare occasion, because it wasn’t to destroy an anomaly, but because something was telling him to go. It wasn’t like a voice, or even a sense. More like a feeling. There was something there for him to discover and so he went without saying anything, hoping he’d be back before anyone noticed. 

Miguel found you on the roof of a museum. You were sitting on the edge, swinging your feet back and forth, just staring into the streets. You had your mask off, which he remembered thinking was incredibly stupid, seeing as it was still light out. Your suit was nothing to gawk at, nothing too different than the hundreds of others he had seen, but for some reason he knew it was you he was supposed to find. You, he had been called to. For what, he didn’t know.  

You noticed him before he intended you to. When you saw him, you didn’t look shocked, or scared; you looked happy. No one had been happy to see him in a long time. 

“How long you been standing there?” you asked, turning your body to face him. You crossed your legs and watched him approach, staring up at him like he was someone you knew, someone you had been waiting for. 

Miguel was quiet. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. 

“You know, one of us is gonna have to change.” And you laughed hard at your own dumb joke. Your laugh made him uncomfortable, how truly happy it sounded, how real it felt. You seemed like you hadn’t yet experienced the tragic things that came with being a Spiderman. You seemed innocent. Like you needed to be protected. 

And by god, you were beautiful. The suit didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

The thought startled him and he stayed quiet.  

“Your suit is super cool. Kinda cyberpunk.” You stood and you watched him carefully, walking slowly around him in a circle. Miguel’s eyes followed you, his body on guard as if you were going to suddenly lunge at him. 

“Why aren’t you... surprised?” Miguel finally said, his tone accusatory. But you didn’t seem to notice, and if you did you didn’t mind. You stopped in front of him and stuck your hand out, inviting him to shake it. 

“Welcome to Earth-72, Miguel. I’ve been waiting for you.” 

And that’s how he found out about a Dr. Strange, and how you knew about Miguel already; in fact, you were expecting him. The idea made him irrationally angry. Someone like you, obviously flippant and probably reckless, with knowledge about something as dangerous as the multiverse? You were most likely new to your abilities, to the mask. You were too naive and carefree not to be. 

But Miguel was wrong. You had long been bitten, lost your uncle, your sister, your best friend. You just seemed to lack that bitterness that he saw in the others, in himself. You were happy. 

Like most things, that also made Miguel angry. 

You begged him to let you join the Spider Society. You said you had known about it for a while, and you dreamed of being apart of it, of something bigger than yourself. Your words exactly. He was slightly impressed by that, but didn’t show it. In fact, Miguel wanted deeply to say no. But he didn’t, for reasons he’s not quite sure of himself, and that’s how he ended up with a permanent, relentless distraction. He was starting to wish he never brought you back in the first place. 

If you were more like him, he thinks, he probably wouldn’t have this problem. But you’re not. You’re almost the exact opposite. It drives him fucking crazy.

Miguel shook his head, grunting in frustration at his own inability to focus. It seemed even when you weren’t there, he was plagued by the thought of you. 

And think about you he did, for hours on end, sometimes. When he would lie awake in bed, his body aching from the strains of the day. He wouldn’t be able to close his eyes, because the image of you was always waiting for him. Smiling, laughing. Looking up at him with those eyes of yours. He would find himself imagining what it felt like to be close to you. Your skin would be soft, he knew. Your lips would be softer. Your hands, calloused by years of fighting, swinging, winning, losing. How they’d touch him. How they’d hold him. 

How he would touch you. Make you feel good. Make you think about him, just like he thought about you. Make you want him. 

Miguel always lost himself in thoughts like that, and he was usually able to bring himself back to reality. When he got back to his room that night, though, he felt as though he couldn’t push it down. He didn’t let himself have anything nice. And god, did he want something nice. 

The water ran over his taut back, soaking his hair and running down his cheekbones. One hand, splayed against the tile wall, and the other by his side, just inches away from an itch he is fighting not to scratch. His cock is aching. He swears he can see it pulse with every second that passes, every drop of water that lands on his shaft, veins prominent and throbbing. 

Miguel imagines that you’re there with him. That you stand in front of him, and that instead of the wall it’s you he’s touching, your skin slick with water and sweat. That your hands are on his chest, your nails scratching him just the slightest bit, and god, those eyes, staring into his like he’s the only thing that has or ever will matter to you. 

When he finally wraps his hand around his cock, it takes his breath away. 

“Jesus,” he whispers, slowly stroking himself, gripping so tight he’s sure his fingertips are white. It’s not enough. 

Miguel closes his eyes, and immediately he pictures you. He feels almost guilty to think of you this way, on your knees, with your lips wrapped around his dick. But he can’t stop. His breathing grows heavier as he imagines you taking him deep into your throat, gagging on him, your nose brushing against his pelvis. He thinks about what he’d say to you. How he’d tell you how good you were doing, how perfect you were. He grips himself impossibly harder and is unable to stop himself from relentlessly jerking his cock, his hand pushing so hard against the wall he’s afraid it’ll crack. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice breathy and deep. More water drips onto his shaft and immediately he thrusts desperately into his own grip, envisioning that it’s you, spitting on him before you take him in your hand, running your tongue over his tip, looking up at him. 

He thinks about what you’d say to him. He knows he would be too big for you. But you’d try to take him all, because that’s what you do. He’s sure your hand wouldn’t even wrap around his entire length. And you would tell him how big he was, how beautiful you thought he was. You’d probably tease him too, about how quickly he’d been reduced to a mess, how eager he was. He’s surprised at how close that thought brings him, and he has to bite his lip to keep from letting out a shameful moan. 

When Miguel comes, he says your name. It’s not loud; it’s more like a plea, a prayer. His body caves in on itself and he shudders with the force of it, his legs trembling ever so slightly as he tries to bring himself back to reality. He stands there for a moment, trying to catch his breath, feeling a little ashamed at how quickly he finished. He hasn’t had the time to do anything like that in so, so long. He hasn’t let himself. 

He washes himself off and gets out of the shower. 

When Miguel lies in bed, he’s haunted by the thought of having to see you tomorrow, knowing what he’s done. And then he grows angry. You did this to him. And you’re not even trying; you’re just there. What a nuisance you are. 

He tries to close his eyes, but he finds himself plagued by you still. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

CHAPTER TWO

[jamie-leah]

Lifeline Pt 3

Bucky x Reader

Series

Summary: You have a past that you're running from and maybe Bucky can be the lifeline you had no idea you were searching for.

Word Count: 2,037

Warnings: Descriptions of domestic abuse, mentions of death and suicide

A/N: Sorry I missed last weekend, I had a funeral to attend but here is a slightly longer part for you. I'm keeping a tag list so let me know if you want in. Requests are also open if you would like to send one in. Enjoy!

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Masterlist of Masterlists

After that day, Bucky spends more time at your apartment. In fact, he spends more time with you in general. He comes to the diner more often and any day you both have free you spend it together. You’ve kicked his ass at all the video games you have, he’s shown you all his favourite spots in New York, including a hole in the wall book shop that you stayed at for hours.  

You were at this very book shop with Bucky when he says, “so, every month at the tower we all try to stick to this family dinner thing.”  

This piques your interest. Bucky doesn’t talk about the others very often. Almost like he doesn’t want to mix you up with his drama. Like he wants to keep you away from the danger of his work. You’ve never pushed him, even though you love the stories he tells of him and Steve back in the 40s. Or the pranks he and Sam play on each other every so often.  

You never push him to talk about things he doesn’t want to because you know you have so much you can’t talk about either.  

You nod to Bucky to show that you’re listening to him, “well, there’s a family dinner tomorrow night and my therapist thinks it would be a good idea to invite you...not that I don’t want you to be there or didn’t want to ask you myself. I want you with me all the time, but I didn’t want to subject you to the chaos of everyone or Tony Stark or Natasha or Sam. Actually, you know what? Forget I said anything, this was stupid-”  

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat, “Bucky, I’d love to go with you.”  

Bucky spins around fast, dropping the book he was holding, “you would?”  

You chuckle, picking up the book and handing it back to the idiot in front of you, “they’re your family. Plus, it would be nice to have dinner at yours for a change.”  

Bucky breaks out into a grin, grabbing you in a bear hug and twirling you around. When he sets you down, he says, “look, I have to go but I’ll pick you up around 7?”  

You nod as he races out the door to get to his therapy appointment on time, laughing as he practically skips out the door like a little kid.  

Tomorrow comes around faster than you would have liked. You feel like you’ve had no time to prepare for this dinner. You’re meeting Bucky’s family; it feels so important, and you don’t want to mess anything up.  

You still haven’t heard anything from Andrew which is a miracle and if it keeps going like this you might get to build a life here. A life that you hope involves Bucky for a long time to come. But it won’t if you mess this up tonight.  

Staring into the mirror you can see the bags under your eyes from another sleepless night. The nightmares now involving Bucky and being ripped away from this life that you’re starting to love. It always wakes you up feeling breathless and hopeless because there’s a part of you that knows Andrew will come one day and you’ll just have to leave.  

Are you being cruel? To you and to Bucky? Making you both feel so deeply for each other when you know at any moment it could fall like a house of cards? And what exactly do you feel for the man? You swore to yourself that would never get involved romantically again but with Bucky do you have a choice? Can you just be friends with someone that feels like your other half?  

Just then you hear a knock at the door, distracting you from your thoughts. You rush to the door thinking it’s Bucky coming to pick you up but when you open up your smile fades.  

A delivery man is holding a bunch of red roses, thrusting them into your hand as soon as he sees you. Your blood runs cold. You stand, staring at the flowers like they may bite you at any moment.  

When you tear your gaze away from them the delivery man is nearly at the elevator already, “hey! Wait, I didn’t see a card with them?”  

He always leaves a card. This can’t be him because he always leaves a card. The delivery man shrugs, “the guy didn’t want a card.”  

You hear the elevator ding like background noise. Your whole world comes back to the roses in your hand. Andrew picks a different flower every time so there’s no way to know and the delivery man said it was a guy that ordered the flowers. He knows. Andrew knows.  

You drop the flowers like they burn you and race into the apartment. Fight or flight kicks in and you know the dance by now. Heading straight to your room at the back of the closet is your go back. Savings you’ve put away from your job, a couple of old family photos and a passport.  

You promised yourself that if New York did not work, you would try a different country altogether, hoping he would never go that far just to teach you a lesson.  

You reach the open plan kitchen just as Bucky runs through the door looking frantic. His eyes land on you but you don’t have time to stop as you throw more supplies into your go bag.  

Bucky says, “I saw the door open and the flowers on the floor, I thought...I thought-Are you leaving?” 

You turn to look at him when you sense the feeling of betrayal behind his words. Words get caught in your throat, so you don’t say anything. You were barely holding it together before Bucky got here, but now it seems almost impossible to go with him watching. Almost.  

“I know you may not like the flowers, but this is a little extreme, right?” He goes for humour but even you can tell its strained.  

And then his meaning penetrates the fog in your brain, “you? You got the flowers?”  

Bucky shrugs, “they were supposed to arrive yesterday after you said you’d come to family dinner, but I ordered them too late, so I was hoping to beat them here and give them to you myself but well...” 

He trails off and your shoulders sag. Bucky got the flowers. The flowers were from Bucky. The go bag slips from your grip, hitting the floor with a thud, drawing Bucky’s attention once again.  

“Why? Who did you think they were from?”  

You don’t answer. How can you? The answer is so much more complicated than just a name and yet at the same time it isn’t.  

A lump forms in your throat. You want to tell him. You want so much to let someone else carry this burden with you but every time you told someone your story, they either sided with the monster or ended up dead because of him. Because of you. And you would walk away before you saw anything happen to the man standing in front of you.  

Bucky shakes his head. Walking over to pick up the flowers, he lays them on the kitchen table, “I can’t do this. I can’t be here if it means that you might leave at any moment. I’ve been left behind before and I barely made it out alive. I can’t go through that again.”  

And your heart aches. It aches so much that you don’t know how you remain standing as you watch the only person that’s ever made you feel safe start to walk out the door.  

If you were less selfish, you would let Bucky walk out that door and never come back. You would leave him behind and leave New York. You would be miserable just to keep him safe. But you can’t. And you don’t.  

“The first time he hit me, it was our honeymoon.”  

Bucky stops dead. He doesn’t turn around, but you take it as your cue to keep talking, “this guy at a bar flirted with me. He gave me his best pick up line, I laughed and told him I was flattered but I was married, and the guy left me alone. Andrew, my husband, saw and challenged me on it in our hotel room. 

I laughed and told him to stop being silly and that I had seen him flirt with other women before too. It was the first and last time he hit me with an open palm. I made excuses for him. I didn’t want to admit that I cut all my friends and family off for a monster. He was all I had left. But after a few years, when he was dishonourably discharged from the Army, I spoke to his closest friend, Tommy. Tommy was a good man. I showed him the bruises and he believed me. After all these years, he was the only person to believe me.  

Tommy had sensed a change in Andrew, he became less bothered about hiding his temper when the Army chewed him up and spat him out. Tommy confronted him. A week later, Tommy went missing. Three months after that his body was found in the woods. Suicide they said.”  

Bucky finally turns to face you, his eyes swimming with anger and pain so much like your own that you have to look away. You stare at your hands instead, “after Tommy was gone, Andrew got worse. I was going to the hospital at least once a month and everyone believed all the lies. It got so bad that I once went to the police. They called Andrew and he told them that I wasn’t doing very well, and they believed him. After that incident I ended up in the hospital for six weeks. He told them I fell from the roof.”  

Bucky lets out a string of curse words that have you smiling despite the circumstances, “How did you get away?” 

“I got a job. In secret of course. I arranged it so I would only work when he did, and I worked in the next town over. I saved and saved and saved. And then one night I put sleeping pills in with his food. Once I was sure he was asleep, I took the car and left in the middle of the night. I ditched it the next morning and walked to a bus station.”  

“But he still finds you?” Bucky asks.  

You nod, “I haven’t been able to stay in a place longer than two months before he sends flowers and a card to wherever I’m staying at the time. It’s almost like he’s enjoying playing cat and mouse. He’s letting the game go on because I know the moment he catches me this time, I’ll be dead.”  

Bucky takes a step towards you, “no. I’m not going to let that happen.”  

“Tommy said the same thing.”  

“Yeah, well, Tommy wasn’t a super soldier.”  

“But he was a soldier.”  

Bucky shakes his head, “it's been longer than two months. Maybe he’s given up. Found someone else or got what’s coming to him from someone else.”  

“Maybe”, you whisper.  

Bucky closes the distance between you, pulling you into the warmth of his body, holding you like it's a miracle you’re still standing, “you can’t keep running. I won’t let you. Why should you have to run because that waste of oxygen can’t keep his hands to himself?”  

You don’t have an answer, so you just cling to him tighter. Bucky pulls back to look down at you, “promise me, you’ll come to me first. Come to me before you run.”  

You shake your head, “that’s just your way of asking me to stay.”  

“So, what if it is? I deal with bad people and monsters all the time. Let me help you with yours? Come to me first, please?”  

And despite your better judgement, despite all the promises you made to yourself, you tell Bucky yes. You tell him that you’ll stay. You just hope you’re not sealing both of your fates because of it.  

Tags: @ordelixx @cjand10 @identity2212 @sukaibg

[captain-mj]

Can we get ex-barracksbunny Simon from your TikTok to finally give Johnny that one chance to treat him so good?

It would be criminal to not answer this lmao. In my brain, this is og soapghost but y’all can view it how you want

Ghost sighed softly as Soap started up again. 

“Come on, LT. Bet I can treat you better than anyone else.” Soap sounded so confident. Ghost was well aware the only reason he kept pushing is because Ghost hadn’t actually said no. If he did, Soap would stop. 

“Don’t think you can MacTavish.”

“You two aren’t on a private line.” Gaz cut in. “Just thought I’d say that.”

“Fuck off, Gaz. Simon, you could at least check for yerself?”

Ghost could hear Price taking a deep breath to scold Soap on how what he was doing was borderline sexual harassment. 

“Alright. You act good on this mission, I’ll give you a chance.” 

Price started coughing, choking on his words.

Soap very slowly, accent thick as honey, “What sir?”

“Don’t get coy now. We’ll talk later. But only if this mission is handled well with no injuries.”

Soap was a goddamn angel. Every order executed with precision. 

Price looked so mad about it. 

After their debrief, Ghost went to his room, planning on a shower. He noticed his shadow quickly.

“Johnny. You’re taking me to dinner first. Tomorrow.  Unfortunately for you, I’ve gotten slightly higher standards.”

“I get to have dinner with you?” Soap followed him, looking at him like he hung the stars. Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Johnny, I’m already going to sleep with you. Now fuck off.” He hit the back of his head. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”

“Will you be taking the mask off?”

“You’ll find out.” Ghost closed the door. 

In all honesty, Johnny’s simp behavior had zero to do with Ghost saying yes. It had been four years since he got laid. After getting captured and... everything that came with it, he just hadn’t wanted to.

His therapist had suggested two days ago that he was touch starved. Normally, he’d brush it off as dumb as hell, but he matched all the symptoms. He was pretty sure she hadn’t meant have sex with the nearest person, but casual touch didn’t seem like enough. 

In his past, he slept around a bunch. It had felt nice. Gave him connection. Was a lot easier than trying to fumble through conversation. 

Who knows. Maybe Soap would be good. At the very least, they’d be pressed against each other for a few minutes. Hopefully Soap had some stamina. 

He texted him. “Dress up nice and pick the place.”

“You got it, LT. Just keep looking pretty.”

Bitch.

Ghost did dress up nice though. As nice as he could. Plain black shirt, nicer black trousers, his ski mask. 

Soap had flowers when he opened the door. Carnations. 

Ghost stared at them for a second before taking them and setting them on his desk. “Thank you.” 

Soap smiled at him and walked with him, immediately talking like it was any other day. Ghost was actually pretty thankful for it, even though he didn’t admit. They were pretending they were just hanging out. Like normal. 

Soap had picked a pretty nice place, catching Ghost off guard. “One check, please.” He told them ahead of time. Ghost tilted his head but let it go.

“So why did you want to have dinner first? Not that I’m complaining.” Soap said the second part quickly, hands going up.

“I didn’t want it to feel like a cheap one night stand afterwards.” Ghost glanced at him. “I have to work with you. I’d like to be able to pretend I respect you in the morning.” He was teasing, moving closer. “Do you mind that much?”

“No. I like that I’m getting to spend time with you.” Soap smiled at him. 

Bastard. 

Simon felt stupid butterflies in his stomach. He squashed them. 

When the food came, he lifted his mask up only slightly. Soap openly stared at him. His eyes traced every feature he could see. 

Ghost started eating a bit quicker. He didn’t normally like being observed but something about the way Soap stared at him made him feel particularly weak. 

Soap smiled softly at him and they kept talking. 

It wasn’t until much later that Soap made a comment about the thing. 

“So... You really let them call you Pretty Boy Riley?”

Ghost blushed and unfortunately Soap could see it this time. “Yes. I did for a while... When I first joined the military, it was my first time away from my family. It was... I had never really got a chance to be out and then suddenly I was not only out but surrounded by a bunch of men who were interested. It’s why I slept around so much.”

Soap smiled at him, seeming genuinely interested. “Makes sense. I came out in secondary school. It was a bit different then.”

Ghost hummed. “Hard to imagine you as a teen.”

“I was a football player too. If you can imagine.” Soap laughed, taking another drink. They’d both went nonalcoholic for today. Probably a smart choice. “I bet you were a theater kid.”

“Nope. In a band.” Ghost laughed. “I was the bassist.” 

“No fucking way. Still play?”

“Haven’t tried it in years, but I could always try to pick up again.” It had been fun. “We were awful before you ask. My brother was the singer. He had my dad’s voice.” 

“Wasn’t your dad in a band?”

“As a drummer.” 

Soap laughed immediately and paid. He drove them since he “didn’t trust Ghost behind the wheel” for some reason. Ghost didn’t really like driving so he rolled with it, enjoying getting to sit passenger. 

Soap’s hand fell on his thighs and he stared, a little taken back. Ghost was ushered into Soap’s room. 

He expected there to be an awkward pause. For Soap to realize what he was doing, but then he was lifting Ghost’s masks up to just above his nose and kissing him hard. His hands were on Ghost’s hips, backing him up. 

“Simon. Can I take the mask off?”

His mouth was too dry to form words so he just nodded. Soap pulled it off of him. 

“I see why they called you pretty.”

“I’m sure the scars are pretty ghastly. Try not to look at them myself.” 

“Still a bonnie even with them, Si. Always will be.” Soap pressed his hands against his chest and Ghost fell willingly, hitting the bed. Luckily it was one of the nicer ones. 

Soap’s mouth was on his neck before he could really think, pinning him down. 

“Told you, Lt. Best you’ve ever had.”

“Cocky.” Ghost spat out but it ended up more of a whine thanks to Soap tugging his hair. They undressed each other in record timing and Soap just wouldn’t stop kissing him, holding his face with his hands running all over him. 

Soap pulled away. “Are you okay if I...” His hands slid between Ghost’s thighs, being... gentle.

Ghost stared at him, finding it a little hard to breath. “Yes. Keep going.” 

Soap nodded and reached under his pillows to grab a bottle of lube. It was half empty and Ghost shoved down any feelings that gave him. He watched him coat his fingers before gently pushing his first finger into him.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“Been a while.” Ghost hummed, feeling his face flush. “Should’ve prepped beforehand...” 

“Nah, I like this part.” Soap grinned at him and started to kiss along his jaw. “I’ll return the favor later, yeah?”

“Who says we’re doing this again?” 

“I’m sure you can handle a couple of rounds tonight, right?” Soap kissed him and Ghost relaxed, letting him fit another. The stretch was... fuck it was great. Their chests were pressed together and all he could think about was how warm Soap was. 

Ghost groaned at the third one and he felt Soap’s tongue lick its way into his mouth. He grabbed the headboard, panting.

“Okay, enough. Come on, show me a good time, Sergeant.”

“That an order?” Soap teased as he pulled away. He was still being gentle as he moved him around, lining up. He reached up and grabbed Ghost’s hand. “Just squeeze if you need a break, okay?”

Ghost nodded, though he thought it was a bit silly, and held his hand tighter. Soap leaned over him so their lips were almost touching as he pushed in. 

Ghost groaned before whimpering. Soap paused, looking stunned he managed to get that sound out of him.

“I swear to God Johnny, keep moving.” 

Soap immediately started to push in again as he marked up Ghost’s neck and his shoulders. “How did you hide the hickeys?”

“Never let them make them. You’re special.” Ghost grabbed Soap’s hair and tugged him back down when he went to pull away. “Keep making them.” 

Soap bit him hard and thrust into him, Ghost scrambling at his shoulders with his free hand. He adjusted them slightly and slammed into again, making Ghost whine. Ghost was just about to say some sharp retort when Soap found it, hitting his sweet spot hard. 

Ghost saw stars, moaning softly. He squeezed Soap’s hand hard to ground himself and almost beat the man when he paused.

“Please.” 

Soap didn’t need anymore than that. He started to thrust in hard, hitting the spot over and over again. Ghost’s legs went around his hips as he moved, kissing Ghost every chance he got. 

“Johnny.”

“I got you Simon. What do you need?”

“Just keep doing this.” Simon bit Johnny’s lower lip and made eye contact with him. His hips continued to snap right into Ghost’s who was loving the treatment. Soap’s chest was also very nice to stare at and he got to run his hand over it, feeling the hard muscles under soft skin.

Before long, Ghost couldn’t seem to shut up. Moaning and whimpering as Soap hit that spot over and over again. He kept his eyes closed and felt his legs start to shake. A pressure was building his core and he knew he was going to have to take Soap up on the multiple rounds because he didn’t want this to end yet. 

Soap noticed. No clue how, but the fucker knew and he sped up. His hand bruised Ghost’s hips and he purred when Ghost scratched down his back. It was all so much. Too much. The skin to skin contact made him feel half insane already. 

Ghost pulled him down for a kiss and came, squeezing Soap’s hands so hard he thought he’d hurt him. He shuddered and buried his face in Soap’s neck, feeling warmth spread through him as Soap came too.

“Sorry, i should’ve worn a condom or asked or..” Ghost shut him up by kissing him. 

“Not the best but you’re up there. Your technique needs work.” Ghost flopped back. “You’re a quick learner. I’m sure you can figure it out with experience.”

“Experience? So we are doing this again.”

“If you want...”

“Knew you like me LT.” 

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Married, Colleagues, Divorced

This thought would enter his mind: Something about it is definitely different. (Gaara Hiden, Ch. 1) | Ten Days of Tenzo (@tendaysoftenzo) Day 5: Kakashi | AO3 |

                          ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yamato to Kakashi of the Two Normal Eyes: Kakashi. Can I ask you a question...?

Kakashi to Colleague I Think About Such a Normal Amount: Yes, Tenzō?

Yamato: Did you date Iruka?

Kakashi: Why do u ask?

Yamato: Something Naruto said about going on outings with the two of you. Apparently, you even paid. 

Kakashi: We are amicably divorced

Yamato: Elaborate. 

Kakashi: The outings are part of our custody arrangement. The ramen is alimony

Yamato: I understand all of these words but not in this order. 

Kakashi: What’s not to understand. It’s important to model healthy separation for the kids 

Yamato: So you two did date?

Kakashi: No. Next question 

-- 

Kakashi to Standing Tenzōvation: Come sit here

Yamato to Hatake a Bow: I’ll come find you after. We’re going to get in trouble for texting during jōnin council deliberation again. 

Kakashi: I tried talking to u with Anbu hand signals. U said those were too obvious

Yamato: They are too obvious; you should see the message Genma sent me after the last council. Why do I need to sit there anyway? 

Kakashi: I want to eat with u today and if I’m not already occupied after we finish I will be caught in a meeting vortex

Yamato: Comes with the new job-title, Rokudaime-sama.

Kakashi: Not until next week, officially. And I didn’t enjoy any part of that sentence.

Yamato: Well, aren’t you emotionally forthright today? It’s refreshing. 

Kakashi: Does that mean u will buy lunch?

Yamato: You’re the one who just got a promotion. Hokage’s treat? 

Kakashi: I’ll spar u for it

Yamato: You’re on. 

--

Kakashi to Magic Mountain: Soup on your windowsill 

Yamato to Lord Sixth Flags: Thank you. You could come in, you know. 

Kakashi: U need some rest. Plus I have been assigned a mission to have tea with Hyuga-san 2nite

Yamato: That’s a new one. Who assigned that?

Kakashi: Me. 😔 I’ve been told clan relations are my problem now

Yamato: I can hardly wrap my head around you being a politician. 

Kakashi: I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around u nearly getting chakra exhaustion from a spar

Yamato: How many times have YOU gotten chakra exhaustion?

Kakashi: I haven’t kept a count 

Yamato: I have. 16.

Kakashi: That’s not bad. 1.4% of missions. Point is that’s what I expect from me, not u 

Yamato: Give me a break. I’ve only ever fought you when you had your sharingan. I didn’t account for how much stamina you’d have without it. My hospital check-up was quick and painless. 

Kakashi: Easy for u to say, u weren’t awake for the berating when I hauled u in

Yamato: Tsunade-sama or Sakura?

Kakashi: Sakura, thankfully. She still feels bad about hitting me, unlike her shishō

Yamato: Are we in trouble?

Kakashi: Don’t think so. The killing intent stopped after u woke up 

Kakashi: Sakura threatened to abandon her post and become a rogue ninja if we ever do it again, but I have a plan for that

Yamato: Do you anticipate Sakura leaving Konoha?

Kakashi: Not really. But after Sasuke I figured the other two should have contingencies, and I kept adding as u and Sai joined 

Yamato: Are you saying you have a plan for a scenario where all five other members of our team abandon the village? 

Kakashi: Don’t take this the wrong way but I have a 14-step-plan for that scenario

Yamato: Both impressive and concerning. 

Kakashi: That’s what they tell me in ninja therapy

Yamato: You have a therapist? 

Kakashi: Yeah. Don’t u?

Yamato: Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve never been more attracted to you.

Kakashi: Hm. What’s your average amount of attraction to me?

Yamato: I abstain from the question.

Kakashi: 🤔😈㊙️❓

--

Sakura to Team Thanks for Pardoning Sasuke, Sensei: reminder that our new team photo will be taken tomorrow. naruto buy a hairbrush. sensei and sasuke remember to show up on time 

Naruto: i own a hairbrush!! it just doesn’t work on my hair y’know

Sakura: bring it and i’ll help. i’m not breaking another one of my combs

Sasuke: Why do I get lumped in with Kakashi? I’m on time.

Sakura: you missed the last three years of team meetings

Sasuke: Touché. 

Sai: Do Yamato-taichō and I need to do anything? 

Sakura: i think you’ll both be fine. don’t worry too much about what kind of smile you need. be natural

Sai: I will join you early so we can practice being natural.

Sakura: that’s not what i meant. but sure we can get breakfast 

Naruto: me too!!!!

Sakura: NOT ichiraku. 

Naruto disliked “NOT ichiraku.” 

Sasuke liked “NOT ichiraku.” 

Naruto: :(((((((((((( ok 

Yamato: Kakashi and I will both have a meeting about the new housing developments first thing. I can make sure we get there.

Naruto: should u be spending so much time together?

Naruto: i don’t want yamato-taichō to catch ur chakra exaustion again kaka-sensei

Kakashi: For the last time, I did not GIVE Yamato chakra exhaustion. U can’t catch it

Sakura: debatable.

Sai: Sakura does offer medical credibility to Naruto’s theory.

Kakashi: Tenzō, tell them.

Yamato: I haven’t ruled it out.

Naruto: SEE. ur contagious sensei 

Kakashi: I miss when u all found me intimidating

Sasuke: We never found you intimidating. 

Sakura liked “We never found you intimidating.”

Naruto liked “We never found you intimidating.”

Yamato: Didn’t you make them homemade bento on their first day? Not your most menacing tactic. 

Naruto: tbh iruka-sensei and jiraiya-sensei had a lot more rules than u 

Naruto: ur gonna have to work on that as Hokage!

Sai: If you would like, I can pretend to find you intimidating. I’m a very good actor. 

Kakashi: Thank u, Sai. 😔🤘 

--

Anko to Jōnin Gone Wild: @Shiranui Genma, Married, Colleagues, Divorce: Gai, Raidō, Aoba 

Genma: Easy. Marry Raidō, Colleagues Gai, Divorce Aoba

Aoba: I understand

Gai: You have ALWAYS been an EXCELLENT Colleague, my friend!!!

Raidō: 👌

Yamato: What kind of a game is this?

Anko: Kakashi invented it. Something about it being a therapy exercise

Kakashi: Actually, my therapist advised against it. But I’m glad we have a new game. Shizune was 2 good at online mahjong

Shizune: You would be too if you grew up with Tsunade-sama. Also your next meeting is 5 minutes. I’ll bring the briefing when I’m upstairs

Kurenai: You know, as Hokage, technically Kakashi is responsible for all active shinobi. He shouldn’t be allowed to date any of his colleagues

Anko: Hahahah, government-mandated celibacy

Kakashi: I’ve been Hokage for like 3 days and none of u respect authority anyways 

Kurenai: Are you saying you DO want to date a jōnin?

Anko emphasized, “Are you saying you DO want to date a jōnin?”

Yamato emphasized, “Are you saying you DO want to date a jōnin?”

Kakashi: U think I don’t know a trap when I see one

Shizune: He has a picture of gljljLKHGLJ

Shizune: I would like everyone to know that Kakashi-sama grabbed my phone when I was writing that message. 

Kakashi: Aiming for meeting brief. New depth perception with 2 eyes. Talk later bye

--

Yamato to Celibacy Senpai: Explain to me how the game works again. Since we’re colleagues, we can’t be married or divorced?

Kakashi to Comrade Featured in Several GROUP Photos: It’s more of a state of mind

Kakashi: Take for example, if I had u, Yugao and Ibiki. I’d Colleagues Yugao, Divorce Ibiki and Marry u. 

Yamato: That implies you were married to Ibiki before me. 

Kakashi: Would it affect ur interest in marrying me?

Yamato: No, but I’d wonder why we didn’t get married first. We get along more.

Kakashi: We prioritized our friendship over other potential kinds of bonds

Yamato: I think we've got a pretty good track record for adapting. Besides, spouses should be friends. Anyway, none of this answers the question of why you’d suddenly marry someone else.

Kakashi: We were separated by a tsunami. U lost ur memory and I couldn’t find u so Ibiki and I got together so the kids could have another role model

Yamato: How long was I gone before you moved on? 

Kakashi: We co-parented but I didn’t move on. That’s why u and I get married 

Yamato: What if I’m more of a long-term-romantic-roommates kind of guy? 

Kakashi: I’d make that work

Yamato: In the game?

Kakashi: Sure. In the game

--

Naruto to Team Congratulations Chūbu Sai: i went 2 the yamanaka flower shop for plant food after we met up and u’ll never guess what i saw!! u know the bandana guy?

Yamato: Genma? 

Kakashi: Ibiki?

Sakura: Ebisu-sensei? 

Naruto: no. sasuke hair

Kakashi: Izumo

Yamato: Izumo. 

Naruto: yeah him!! he was buying flowers for that other guy. big stick.

Sakura: 🤨

Kakashi: That’s Kotetsu. And? 

Naruto: he was BUYING FLOWERS. for that GUY. for a DATE!!!!!

Sai: Ino tells me it is customary to bring your partner gifts like flowers to show your affection. 

Naruto: I DIDN’T KNOW THAT WAS AN OPTION!!

Kakashi: Dating Kotetsu? It isn’t. He’s in a relationship. And he’s too old for u

Naruto: DATING A GUY!!

Yamato: Why didn’t you think it was an option, Naruto? 

Naruto: i mean, everyone thinks that way about guys and girls and everyone 

Naruto: but no one DOES IT, y’know

Sai questioned “i mean, everyone thinks that way about guys and girls and everyone.” 

Sai: Is that true?

Sakura: i think this is the wrong chat to ask that question in 

Yamato emphasized, “i think this is the wrong chat to ask that question in.”

Sai: Why? 

Kakashi: I can give u a book that will explain it, Sai. Anyway Naruto, people can date anyone they want, within reason. As long as the people involved like each other

Naruto: anyone?

Kakashi: Yeah. Even more than one person at once. Right, Sasuke? 👨🏻‍🎤

Sasuke: What’s that emoji supposed to mean?

Kakashi: I just like to make sure ur phone is on. 

Naruto: i gotta go for a walk

--

Yamato to It’s Kakamplicated: I’m going to tell him.

Kakashi to Konoha’s Next Top Anbu (Not a Sex Thing. Maybe A Sex Thing): Give him a few more days, he’ll figure it out 

Yamato: …How long did it take you to figure it out?

Kakashi: I abstain from the question

Yamato: 🙄

Kakashi: Fine. 19. 

Yamato: Age or years?

Kakashi: Definitely one of those two things. Next question 

--

Iruka to Senseis R Us: What have you been telling Naruto?

Kakashi: U’ll have to be more specific

Iruka: Why did Naruto say he was going to hang out with my ex-husband?!

Kakashi: What makes u think I have anything to do with it

Iruka: I didn’t say I was talking to you. However, he was going to see your team and I don’t think Yamato-san is responsible for this!!

Yamato: I’m going to leave this one in Kakashi’s capable hands.

Iruka: Kakashi. What is wrong with you?

Yamato: Becoming a chunin at the age of 6, a strangely public black ops career, a possible attachment disorder and some very interesting tan lines. 

Kakashi: That’s the kunai calling the shuriken sharp. 

Kakashi: Also I’ll show u some interesting tan lines

Yamato loved “Also I’ll show u some interesting tan lines.” 

Kakashi: Anyway. I didn’t say much, Naruto was just curious about our history 

Iruka: We don’t have a history?? 

Kakashi: What about when I reupholstered your sofa?

Iruka: Was that... a romantic activity for you?

Kakashi: This is why we’d never work out, Iruka. 

Iruka: Because you text like a member of the cypher corps? 

Yamato: It’s not so bad. His birthday messages are very heartfelt. 

Kakashi loved “It’s not so bad. His birthday messages are very heartfelt.”

Kakashi: Thank you, Tenzō.  

Iruka: Who’s Tenzō?

Yamato liked “Who’s Tenzō?” 

Kakashi loved “Who’s Tenzō?” 

Iruka: This is going on your performance review as an ex-husband.

Kakashi: That’s fair

--

Yamato to Kakashinova: Have you seen my uniform belt? 

Kakashi to Some Kind of Wooderful: I have not. U do keep taking it off every time we eat if that helps?

Yamato: I can’t get used to the placement. But I’ll need to find it or order another one before my next check-in. You know how they are about item counts. 

Kakashi: U can use one of mine if u want 

Yamato: Your black belt which has Rokudaime Hokage stitched on the inside? I’ll pass, thanks. 

Kakashi: I don’t know why they keep putting that on everything. But u can’t see that part while ur wearing it anyway. It’s the same belt 

Yamato: Yes, but the Anbu would know it was your belt. I get enough heat for how much time we spend together as it is.

Kakashi: Favouritism?

Yamato: More like wisecracks about holding a torch for you. 

Kakashi: Haha why. Do you have a crush on me, Tenzō?

Yamato: You know the answer to this one. Next question.

Kakashi: What makes u think I know the answer?

Yamato: You’re the smartest person in this village. And we see each other every day.

Kakashi: We all have our Shodaime’s nipple

Yamato: Some of us more than most. Let’s try a different question. How many times have we kissed each other?

Kakashi: 7. 9 and a half if u count missions 

Yamato: Where are you getting the half from?

Kakashi: CPR

Yamato: Ah. So, in those nine-and-a-half moments... You didn’t have any suppositions? Inferences? Lessons gleaned from experience? 

Kakashi: Four and a half of them we’d need to discount for recall, and the last few are harder to report on due to observer bias

Yamato: The observer bias in you gauging my romantic feelings.

Kakashi: Yes

Yamato: Because you would like?

Kakashi: You

Yamato: Me to what?

Kakashi: Long-term romantic roommates, eventually

Yamato: Oh.

Kakashi: Yeah. Do you mind?

Yamato: No, I don’t mind. Maybe we can start with dinner and a walk first? 

Yamato: And Kakashi? I long-term romantic roommates you too. 

Kakashi: That’s a funny way to ask me on a date. 💘 See u in an hour?

Yamato: It’s on.

[ladykailitha]

If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 6

Hello! Thank you for all the well wishes. Food poisoning is such a bitch. Completely knocked me for a six.

The plan is coming together, and the other CC boys come around.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 4  Part 5

*

Steve managed to talk to both Eddie’s doctor and physical therapist. They said that he was in good shape and that as long as he didn’t overexert himself going to a concert in Indy shouldn’t be a problem.

That was the first step. He didn’t want to try and get a hold of the concert hall only to be told by the doctors that Eddie wasn’t well enough to go.

Steve bit his lip as he opened the Yellow Pages and began to flip through them. He didn’t even know what category the place would be under. He had looked at the flyer but if there was a phone number on it, he couldn’t see it. He first went to V for venues. But that really didn’t turn up anything. C for Concerts were concert halls for classical music and definitely not what he needed. He was about to give up when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Steve?” Nancy asked.

Steve straightened up. “Oh hey.”

“I’m sorry if this overstepping in any way, but Robin was telling me about you wanting to help get Eddie to see that concert in Indy,” she explained.

“No, no it’s fine,” he murmured. He just hoped that Robin didn’t tell her why he was doing this.

“I called up the venue and got the number to Metallica’s manager,” she continued.

“You what?!” Steve asked, nearly falling over with the shock.

“It’s really interesting how far one can get when flattering someone over the phone,” Nancy said in a tone that implied she was grinning from ear to ear.

“So what did the manager say?” Steve asked, suddenly very, very invested in her next words.

“They’re going to talk to the band and get back to you,” she said.

Steve deflated. “Well that’s a start. Thanks, Nance.”

Nancy chuckled. “I don’t think you understand, Steve. He’s going to talk to the band about backstage passes.”

Steve blinked. “Oh. Oh god. Seriously? Eddie would freak.”

Her chuckle became a full on laugh. “Yes. But I figured it would be best if they talked to you so that you could get all the details.”

Steve slid to the floor and laughed. “Oh god, this is going to freaking amazing. I talked to his doctors and they’ve cleared him to go.”

“That’s great,” Nancy said. “I better get off the phone in case they call.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “And Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Just...make sure he makes you happy, yeah?” she asked quietly. “Because you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy.”

Steve sighed in relief. “Yeah. I will. Thanks again.”

Then they said their goodbyes.

He jumped up from the floor and cheered, pumping his fist. He danced and jumped, cheering and shouting for joy.

He just wanted two cheap seat tickets to a concert to cheer Eddie up. But this? This was life changing. This was a grand gesture of the highest order. Holy fuck.

“Whoo!!” he yelled.

Then walkie-talkie crackled to life. “Hey, Mother Hen, this is Genius Child, do you read me, over?”

“I did not agree those code names, over,” Steve snarked into his walkie.

Dustin laughed. “No, they were Robin’s idea, over.”

“Of course they were,” Steve grumbled. “What do you want, over.”

There was silence on the walkie for a moment. “Are you really trying to get Eddie to the Metallica concert this weekend?”

Steve sighed. Yep. Robin was going to die. “What about it?” He sighed again. “Over.”

“I was thinking about trying to get his battle vest cleaned so that you could give it back to him to wear to the concert,” Dustin said. “And my mom is willing to help us try and get the blood out. Over.”

Steve pressed his eyes closed and pinched his nose. He knew Dustin was only trying to help. But Steve didn’t want to give the vest back to Eddie. He wanted to hide it under his bed and only pull it out when he needed to. “Yeah sure, bud. We can do that. I’ll bring it over tomorrow. I’ve got to stay here, because I’m waiting for a phone call, over.”

“Great!” Dustin said cheerily. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Over and out.”

Steve stood there for who knows how long just wishing he hadn’t thought to do this. It was already getting out of hand. Now there were people demanding to help. It wasn’t about him and Eddie anymore. It was about the party doing something nice for Eddie.

He just wanted to unplug the phone, turn off the walkie-talkie and curl up into a ball and never leave, ever again. He slid to the floor of the kitchen in front of the dishwasher and sobbed.

And then the phone rang. He stood shakily to his feet and wiped the tears from his face. He cleared his throat and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Steve Harrington?” the voice asked.

“Yes, this is him,” Steve replied trying to put as much cheer into his voice as possible.

“I’m calling on behalf of Metallica,” he said. “I understand you have a fan that was recently hospitalized due to the tragedy that struck your town, is that right?”

This is for Eddie, this is for Eddie, Steve chanted in his head. “Yup, sure do. He’s a really good musician, too. He learned Master of Puppets on guitar by ear in just three weeks.”

“Really?” the guy said. “That’s fucking amazing. Here’s what the band is willing to do...”

And they discussed the whole plan and Steve was feeling better by the end of the conversation. Because this was all him.

He bit his lip and then blurted out. “Would it be all right it I wear ear plugs? I have a bad left ear that’s really sensitive and know your guys can get loud.”

The guy laughed. “No, no, it’s fine. Recommended in fact. I’ll tell you what, at the box office, I’ll leave a couple of pairs of the professional ones the band uses with your tickets.”

“Really? That would be great, thanks!” Steve thrilled to be going to the concert for the concert’s sake for the first time since this whole thing started.

Once they hang up Steve put his hands on his hips. All right. The party wanted to help? Then they were going to help with what Steve wanted and not their ideas.

He was doing this for Eddie. With Eddie. They weren’t going. He was. And he knew what his first step was.

Get a hold of Jeff Lawrence because Steve was going to need the names of a couple of shops.

He pulled out the White Pages and got to work. He wrote out his plan and began listing all the things he was going to need.

*

Despite all the work Steve was doing planning this trip to Indy, he was still working at the video shop and volunteering as well as visiting Eddie. He didn’t want to the other man to think that Steve hated him when he was trying to prove the opposite.

When he opened the store on Tuesday the first thing he did was have a conversation with his best friend. He finished telling her about everything Nancy and Dustin had done without prompting.

“Now,” he said with a menacing grin, “where would they have heard that I was taking Eddie to see Metallica, I wonder.”

Robin gulped. “Oh. Well, I was at the hospital talking to Wayne about the plan because I figured he’d need to know and Nancy happened to over hear and then Dustin came up and was asking about what we were talking about and the next thing I know everyone knows.”

Steve put both hands palm down on the counter, fingers slightly spread. “I can see where it got out of your hands, so I’m not going to be mad. But you have to understand...”

Robin sighed and jumped up on the counter next to his hands. “That now everyone is involved it’s less about you showing Eddie how much he means to you specifically and more about how much he means to all of us?”

Steve closed his eyes and nodded.

She put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Steve. It’s gone to hell and I didn’t mean it to.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I know you didn’t. But I was going to tell Wayne myself once I got all the details worked out. There’s no point in telling anyone anything until I had contacted the venue.” He put his head on her shoulder. “Which I am grateful to Nancy for doing that for me, because of course I am. But I still would have liked to have been able to figure it all out for myself.”  

“Yeah, fucked up,” she said softly. “I can call everyone off if you want.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I’m going to use this to my advantage. I’m going to make the party work for me for a change.”

“That’s the Steve Harrington, I know and love,” Robin said brightly. “Now let’s do this horrible minimum wage job to the least of our abilities.”

Steve laughed and they got down to business.

He was clocking out when a certain red-head came into the store. Steve nudged Robin’s shoulder on the way out. Vickie had clearly come to the store when she knew it would just be her and Robin.

Jeff was waiting for him outside the door. Behind him was Brian and Gareth. Suddenly Steve was very worried he was going to be jumped.

“I told these guys what you had planned for Eddie,” Jeff said, jutting his thumb at his friends behind him, “and they wanted to help.”

Gareth scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Eddie told us, you saved his life and it would be pretty shitty of us if we continued to drag you for shit you did two years ago.”

Brian still had his arms crossed. “But know this, if this is a prank to hurt Eddie, they’ll be finding pieces of you up and down the railway tracks for months.”

Steve gulped. “Not a prank. You can ask Nancy Wheeler or Dustin Henderson, they’ll both tell you it’s the real deal.”

Brian eyed him warily. “Maybe I will.”

Jeff stepped in between them. “Okay...that’s enough of the pissing contest.”

Brian and Steve reared their heads back as Gareth laughed.

“You know that’s what you guys were doing,” Gareth said shaking his head, “and you know it. We’re all here for Eddie and if Steve-o here wants to get our friend to the metal concert of the year if not decade, then we’re going to help in anyway possible, right Bri?”

Brian took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Jeff said, “now that we have that cleared out of the way, we’re going to take Steve metal shopping.”

Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13 Part 14  Part 15 Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20

Tag List: @anaibis @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369  @cr0w-culture @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @whalesharksart @nburkhardt @snapshotmaestro @shrimply-a-menace @theotalksalot @child-of-cthulhu @bookbinderbitch

[klbwriting]

Our Strange Duet

Chapter 6: Nightmare

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: some violence, Bruce Wayne is a terrible father

Summary: YN tells Jason about Bruce and Jason goes on patrol

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch @amberpanda99

Notes: just because 2 anons asked this, yes, I'm not a big fan of Bruce Wayne or Batman, BUT I don't hate him as much as this story suggests, it's just for the narrative I need him to suck this much (and depending on which comic continuity you're reading, he does suck this much sometimes)

Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare? - Rent

               Jason moved aside, letting YN into the apartment.  Dick was chugging water, nearly spitting it out when he saw her and her bags.  She put them down by the door and moved to Jason, throwing her arms around him, hugging him tight.  She whispered something that Dick couldn’t hear, and Jason gripped her back, both of them just holding each other, ignoring the rest of the world.  Dick felt his heart pang in his chest.  Giant Jason, still something Dick couldn’t get used to, hugging this shorter girl, clearly gripping her tight but yet still being gentle, engulfing her until she was nearly one with him, and she was gripping him back just the same.  He was glad to see his little brother find someone that he could be like this with.  He needed someone more than his brother or his therapist, he needed someone to love him as he was now, without the baggage of his past.  YN seemed to be it. 

               “Love you Jason,” YN whispered to him, making him loosen his grip a little to pull back and look at her.  “I’m sorry about barging in like this…”

               “You are always welcome here, with me, anywhere with me,” he said.  “So why did you leave the apartment?”  She sighed and he led her to the couch, sitting down with her, not letting go of her hand.  Dick took a seat on the chair nearby.

               “I lied to you about what was paying for the apartment.  I really thought it was all Maroni and honestly, I felt ashamed to accept any money from him, but it was before we had met again and I didn’t have anywhere to go so I figured I would keep the place until I could get a job and afford something else,” she explained.  Jason’s grip tightened on her hand at the thought of her lying to him and she looked down.  “I could handle Maroni doing it, he probably owes so much in child support, and he listened when I told him not to contact me again, so what if he paid for my place for a while?  He owes me.  But Bruce?  He doesn’t owe me anything, he owes you and trying to use me to get to you?  That’s despicable.  And he had the place bugged so that he could hear use talking.  He told me when I went to see him that it wasn’t supposed to be me.  You were supposed to find out about the donor and then go marching to Wayne manor and I don’t know, fight him?  Thank him?” she finished her ramble and sat back, head falling to look at the ceiling. 

               “I’m going to call him,” Dick mumbled.  Jason shook his head, pulling back from YN.  He knew it was petty, but she had lied to him, everyone lied to him sooner or later. 

               “No, don’t, don’t bother,” Jason said.  He moved to grab his gear.  “I’ll be back, need to patrol tonight, big drug deal happening in Crime Alley.”  He looked at them both, barely making eye contact with YN.  “Maybe I’ll find the Batman while I’m at it, handle this myself.”  Dick got up but Jason shook his head.  “Take a night off Nightwing, see if your crime lab contact has information about that drug that Maroni is circulating.  I’ll see if I can get some samples of the actual drug tonight.  YN, whenever you want to get some sleep go ahead a use my bed I’ll stay on the couch when I get back.” 

               “Ok,” she whispered, the barely veiled hurt in her voice piercing through him, but then her voice saying ‘I lied to you’ came flooding into his mind and he just walked out the door without looking back. 

               “I really messed up, didn’t I?” YN said as she and Dick sat at the table.  He had made truly horrible lasagna for dinner, so they were eating frozen pizza as the smoke slowly dissipated from the room.  He nodded slowly and she looked down, forehead meeting the table.

               “He will understand after thinking about it.  I mean, you had just met again, you had already been living in that place for months and you never really knew who was paying for it.  Not like you sought Maroni out for confirmation,” he said.  “It’s just…”

               “Jason doesn’t trust easily and its incredibly easy to break his trust,” she finished, sitting back up.  Dick nodded.  “I still can’t believe Bruce would do something like this, all of this cloak and dagger shit just because he is scared of talking to his son.” 

               “I’m not that surprised by all this.  When me and Bruce first fought, he used Jason to draw me out, pull me back in,” he said.  She looked at him, shocked.  “O you didn’t know?  Me and Bruce fought about me wanting to be something different than what he had made me.  I wanted to be more ruthless, I didn’t care so much about saving the bad guys, not like Bruce.  I left and a year later he’s got another Robin, a kid around the same age I was when he took me after my parents’ deaths.  He didn’t contact me, had Robin do it.  And I, unlike Jason, felt right into Bruce’s trap.  Not only did I fall right back into the family, but I even lightened up, tried to be a good role model for him.  Then Jason killed that drug dealer…”

               “He killed someone as Robin?” YN asked, making Dick look at her as if he had forgotten she was there.  He nodded, eyes a little glazed over with the memory. 

               “He doesn’t know that he killed him.  They were fighting on a roof, Jason had chased him up there after finding not only a pile of drugs in his apartment, but also a photo album full of children…” he shivered, and YN made a disgusted face.  “So, Jason was livid, that rage he gets from the pit, it was always there inside of him, the pit just makes it come out easier, but it was always there.  That night he used it, kicked that asshole right off the roof.  Bruce was climbing the side of the building, trying to get to him before anything happened, the body fell right passed him to the ground.  I was there on the ground, just arriving from another bust up and found it.  Bruce took Jason back to the manor and laid into him, telling him he was lucky that the guy wasn’t dead.  Then Jason said, ‘I wish he was, people like that shouldn’t get to live’ and that was when Bruce gave up, I think.  Even though Jason didn’t die for another six months, that moment there was when he died for Bruce.”

               “What a pile of shit, he just gives up on his kids whenever they decide not to be like him?” YN said.  Dick nodded.  “I don’t like that Jason kills people either, but I have to see him kill someone who didn’t deserve it and a guy who clearly is abusing kids deserves it.  How late will Jason be out do you think?  I want to talk to him.”

               “I wouldn’t expect him back, he will probably go to a safe house by the school and get ready there before going to class,” Dick said.  YN sighed and stood up from the table, starting to clear it.  “Don’t do that, you’re a guest.”  She stopped, looking at him.  “You’re not going anywhere, are you?  I might as well accept that you’ve moved in?”

               “No, I will find someplace, I just don’t know when, but I promise I’m not going to be a freeloader, let me do anything around here.  I can cook and clean and I’ll pay you whenever I can…” she rambled.  Dick walked over and put his hands on her shoulders.

               “YN, calm down, you are family, and despite what we learned from Bruce we don’t abandon family,” he said.  She nodded and hugged him for a second.  He patted her back before he let her clear the dishes, cleaning up his dead lasagna. 

               Jason did as he said, busting up the drug deal, and getting a sample of the new drug before the cops arrived to clear out the rest.  He stowed it away before heading into Old Gotham.  Batman would be patrolling around there that night.  Jason had kept up with what Batman and the new Robin did, always wanting to avoid them.  But today he sought Bruce out.  He wanted to draw him out fine.  But this was it, he would be done after this.  He wasn’t Dick, he didn’t care that Bruce had another kid under his wing, whenever Robin figured out that Batman wasn’t his friend or his dad then Jason would find him.  He could join the new family, the Robins Who Need Their Own Arkham club.  He soon found his prize, watching the Bat fight a few gangsters in an alleyway near the Iceberg Lounge.  Once he was finished Jason threw one of his Red Hood batarangs, making sure it soared right in front of Batman’s face.  Batman looked up and Jason walked away, going further onto the roof. 

               “Knew you would find me eventually,” Batman said from behind him.  Jason turned slowly, hands settling on his guns.  He knew that the armor was bullet proof, but his bullets would still hurt like hell.

               “I shouldn’t be the one arranging this meeting,” he said back.  He felt the rage in him, but he put a cork on it, bottling it until he needed it.  “I only came to say this, don’t go near her again.  Don’t ever do anything for her again.  Don’t contact her again, in any way.”

               “She came to me,” he answered.  Jason felt the cork loosen, one of his guns in his hand now.  Bruce looked at his hand and then back at the helmet. 

            ��  “She did that to rid herself of you, now let her be done,” he said, the voice modulator not quite catching the menace in his voice.  The longer he stood there the more the rage threatened to spill over.

               “What about you?  Do you want rid of me?  Or are you going to come back, and we can talk?” Batman asked.  “Jason…”  That was it, his name, in that voice, he was gone.  The cork flew, releasing all the rage.  Jason was firing, Batman was dodging until he was on the edge of the roof.  Jason came running at him, tackling him over the side.  They were falling but, in that moment, Jason didn’t care, let him die again, he wanted to take Bruce with him.  Of course, that wasn’t what happened, Batman deployed the grappling hook and went up, letting Jason keep falling.  It was only a story, but still enough that when Jason landed, he heard the snap in his ankle, rolling and hissing as he nearly bit his tongue off trying not to scream.  He looked up to see Batman watching him for a moment before disappearing.  He opened his comms.

               “Nightwing?  I need help.”

               “I’m coming Red Hood, what do you need?”

[snelbz]

Better or Worse {8}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language.

Every session with Gwyn is easier.

I’m still tense as hell when we arrive, but as Cassian and I leave our most recent appointment with her, I actually feel like we might actually be getting back on the right track.

His hand is in mine, which has been a much more common occurrence in the past few days than it had in the last year.

Gwyn knows what she’s talking about, that’s for sure. As a relationship therapist, I would really hope she’s good at what she does, but I didn’t realize just how much I missed Cassian’s touch, the feel of his rough hands on my skin.

Nothing past PG has happened, but every time he tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear or takes my hand in his, my stomach does a little flip and I feel like a teenager with a crush.

Except this isn’t just a silly crush.

He’s the love of my life. I knew it, even in my darkest hour, even when we rarely spoke, even when it felt like we did not exist within the same space. I have never doubted that Cassian is the one and only man I am meant to be with, which is somehow even more terrifying than having a simple teenage crush. I wasn’t even this scared when we were engaged, when we were about to be married. Then, I felt like I had nothing to lose, there was no question about it, about us. Now, I feel like I have everything to lose. Even though things are getting better, we aren’t back to being us, and even though I feel like we’ll get there, that we’re on the right track, the fact that we’re not still leaves me scared shitless. 

“You’re quiet,” Cassian says, as he pulls us out of the parking lot. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I say, and it’s an honest response, even though he looks unsure. “Just reflecting.”

He nods, looking both ways before pulling out onto the main street. “I get that.” There’s a beat of silence, then he says, “I think we should go out tonight.”

I look at him, brow raised, instantly thinking about the last time we tried to go out a few weeks ago. “Really?”

He shrugs, fingers dancing on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I’d kind of like to erase the last date we had. Thought we should try again.” Another beat of silence passes. “But, if you’re not ready, that’s fine—”

“I think that sounds nice,” I interrupt, afraid I was giving off the wrong vibes. I’m more surprised that he wanted to try date night again after I messed the last one up so badly, but he gives me a smile that I know is genuine, and slightly full of mischief, which reminds me of the old him, the one that didn’t want to leave me.

I miss him.

And even though I see glimpses of that old Cassian lately, I know he’s still holding back. 

“Good,” he says, and we spend the rest of the way home in a comfortable silence. 

We agreed we’d leave at six-thirty, which allows me two hours to respond to some emails before I have to start getting ready. While I’m in my office, Cassian’s downstairs going over a few new menu items for the restaurant. Half of my inbox is nasty emails from Eris, which tries to dampen my mood but I won’t let it. If I got pissed and upset everytime Eris told me something I don’t want to hear, I’d never feel a single ounce of joy. I send him one email as a response to all, letting him know that everything is on track and I’ll send him an update at the end of the day tomorrow. 

It’s just after five-thirty when a soft knock comes to the office door and Cassian peeks in. He’s shirtless, yet again, and I’m starting to think that he’s coming around shirtless more and more just to watch me ogle, which I do, with no shame. Especially when he’s sweating, looking like he’s just conquered a thousand pushups. “Red or blue?”

I lift a brow. “What?”

He smiles. “Red or blue?”

I snort. “Blue?” 

“Seafood or steak?”

I cock my head to the side. “Is this how you're planning our night? Twenty questions?”

His grin widens. My eyes fall to his chest, his abs, back up to his lips, then his eyes as he asks, “Seafood or steak?”

I think about it for a second. “Steak.” 

“Inside or outside?”

Thinking about the warm, clear day we’ve had, I say, “Outside.”

“I’m getting in the shower.” With a wink, he’s gone.

I decide I should probably start getting ready too and close my laptop, deciding to ignore all work related bullshit for the rest of the night. Tonight is about me and Cassian, and everything else officially doesn’t exist. 

When I enter our bedroom, the bathroom door is cracked and I can see the inside getting steamy from the shower. Gray pants and a navy blue button down are sitting on the bed. 

I’m glad I went with blue.

I grab a brush from my nightstand before sitting at my vanity and setting out what makeup I’m going to use. I need to wash my face first, and glance towards the bathroom door that’s slightly ajar. Surely if he left it open, he doesn’t mind if I go in.

Right?

After debating it for far too long, I walk to the bathroom door and softly knock, nudging it open an inch or two more as I do so.

“Yeah?”

“I need to wash my face,” I say, peeking my head in.

The shower door opens just a bit and out pops his arm, my bottle of face wash in his hand.

I take the bottle, doing my best not to look at the expanse of toned skin and dark ink on display, but failing miserably.

Gods, he’s mouthwatering.

Heading straight for the sink, I turn it on and wet my face. As I squeeze a good amount of the product onto my fingers and form a lather, I clear my throat. “So is our game of twenty questions over or will there be more?”

Cassian chuckles and the sound makes my nipples tighten. A husky laugh shouldn’t undo me so easily, but gods, it’s been so long. “There are a few more,” he says, as I scrub. “But I was going to wait until we were on the way to ask.”

After rinsing my face and drying it off with a hand towel, I turn to lean against the bathroom counter. “And if I have one for you?”

The water shuts off and the bathroom becomes unnervingly quiet for a moment as Cassian towels off. The shower door opens and he’s once again wearing nothing but that towel slung low on his hips. The well defined muscles leading down into the towel may as well be an arrow pointing at his cock because it’s all I can focus on.

“Nesta?”

Right, I said I was going to ask him a question.

Clearing my throat, I ask, “Legs or breasts?”

The only sound is the shower head slowly dripping water onto the tile floor. Cassian blinks, likely making sure he heard me right. “What?”

“Legs or breasts,” I repeat, heading for my closet.

“Are we going to KFC on the way home?” He asks, shaking his head.

I can’t help my own laugh as I look at him. “Just pick one, you ass.”

“Breasts.” His eyes are focused on my face, trying his hardest not to let his gaze dip to the aforementioned part of my body.

“Okay,” I smirk, stepping into my closet.

I can still feel him watching me as I disappear into my chaos of clothing, searching for a dress that shows off my best assets. A few come to mind, but there’s one in particular that I’m hoping to dig out for tonight’s occasion. It takes me a minute to find it, and when I take it out of the closet, my face now clean, Cassian’s still standing there in the bathroom, that fucking towel still barely hiding all that’s beneath. 

I wonder what he would do if I kissed him. Without warning, if I just grabbed his face and kissed him, I wonder how he would react. It’s ridiculous, being nervous to kiss your own husband, but I am. His eyes dart to the dress that’s hanging on the hanger in my hand. His eyes darken. He knows exactly what dress this is. 

“Give me half an hour, and I’ll be ready,” I say, as I go by him, into the bedroom. When I look over my shoulder, his eyes are on my ass.

They snap up to mine and he clears his throat. I try to ignore the fact that I can see something happening beneath that towel of his, even though it causes a longing throughout my body that I haven’t felt in a long, long time. “Sounds good. Yeah, me too.”

I leave him in the bathroom and sit at my vanity, getting to work on my appearance. Cassian’s voice comes from the bathroom. “Twenty questions — clean shave or no?”

I laugh quietly to myself. I like this little game we’re playing. As I dab on my foundation, I say, “Keep the scruff.” 

He comes out a few minutes later, his long, wavy hair brushed and dried and loose above his shoulders. He notices me looking and smiles as he takes his clothes off the bed and goes back to the bathroom. I suddenly realize how much I wanted him to drop that towel, right here, right now.

I focus on my eyeshadow. 

Once I’m done with my makeup, I brush through my hair and add a few more curls since some had fallen loose before spraying it. 

I’m halfway into my dress when the bathroom door opens again, and Cassian is dressed to perfection. He smells phenomenal, like my favorite cologne. When he sees me, he stops.

“Perfect timing,” I say, although I find it hard to find my voice. “Help me zip?”

I turn around and move my hair out of the way. For a moment, he doesn’t come, but then he’s moving toward me, silently. 

He finds the zipper that’s just above my waist, and my breath catches as his fingertips brush the bare skin of my lower back. He takes his time, and every time his fingers make contact with my skin, an ache that’s newly been awakened throbs between my thighs. 

I never thought zipping up my dress would be erotic. I was wrong.

“Ready?” He asks, hands still lingering on my waist.

Ready to throw you down on the bed and say to hell with our date.

I smile at him in the mirror and shake my head. “Almost.”

He steps back, letting me cross the room to my jewelry box. I retrieve a necklace he gave me for our anniversary a few years back. I don’t wear it often, despite loving it, because of the length of the chain. The diamond pendant fell right between breast and as I fluff my hair out around me, I turn and face my husband.

“Now I’m ready,” I say and I don’t know why I sound so breathless.

Okay, I do. If Cassian’s gaze could set something on fire, my dress would be ashes.

Silently, he holds out his hand. I take it, loving the feel of his rough callouses against my skin. I don’t let myself think about how those hands feel on other parts of my body, despite it having been months since I felt them.

Once downstairs, he swipes his keys and wallet, and then we’re headed to the restaurant.

He takes me to one of the best steakhouses in Velaris and we sit on the roof, where string lights and live music surrounds our candlelit table. The conversation is easy, nothing is forced, and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

We talk about our most memorable dates, once Cassian mentioned that one time we skipped a group date because we saw a new taco stand on the way and ate there instead, just the two of us. We sat on the steps of the art museum, dressed in some of our finest, eating a heap of messy tacos. That had been about eight years ago, and I hadn’t realized just how much time has passed between the two of us.

Nearly ten years of marriage.

A decade since we swore our lives to one another.

And I almost let it all go. Looking at my husband across the table, I don’t know how I could have ever been so foolish, so selfish.

He sees me watching him and smiles, setting his fork down, his plate now cleared. I take a sip of my wine. He refills it once it’s almost empty, until the bottle that the waiter left us is almost gone.

After calling for the check, Cassian looks up at me. “Should we head home or walk around for a bit?”

I set down my empty wine glass. “Is this a part of twenty questions?”

He chuckles. “I haven’t exceeded twenty questions yet?”

I shake my head.

“Then yes,” he says, quietly, the toe of his boot nudging the toe of my stiletto. 

“A little walk sounds nice,” I say, afraid that when we get back home we’ll fall back into our polite small talk. Small talk isn’t bad, but this easy conversation we’ve had between us today… I like it.

We walk along the Sidra, the warm, clear day making way for a beautiful night, and I listen as Cassian regales me with tales of a new chef at the restaurant. She’s young and has never had an official kitchen job before, only graduating from culinary school the year before. I glance over at him, with lips pursed. He usually isn’t willing to put his restaurant’s reputation on the line like that. His chefs and sous chefs all have long lists of accomplishments and recognition, upholding the notoriety he’s earned.

We walk on, pausing at an ice cream stand to get to two cones.

“What?”

I look over at him and he’s already watching me as we walk.

I repeat his question. “What?”

He reached out and skims a thumb over my brow. “You’re thinking too hard about something.”

I push him away, rolling my eyes, but he catches my hand and we’re heading back towards the car.

“What’s on your mind, Nes?” He pushes, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hand.

For a brief second, I consider lying to him. I could tell him it’s nothing, tell him there really isn’t anything on my mind. But we haven’t gone through four weeks of marriage counseling for nothing.

“I just… This new girl, Emerie,” I start, hoping he doesn’t see my question as a sign of jealousy. “What exactly made you bring her on? She’s pretty green, as far as your assistant chefs go.”

I don’t think there’s any nefarious reasoning behind his hiring her. I just don’t understand his sudden change in pace.

He’s quiet a minute, which only makes my nerves ratchet higher. When he finally speaks, his words are low, almost too soft to hear over the sound of the city around us. “She’s from the same small town as I am. Similar upbringing, no dad, single mom that worked way too much.”

My heart fractured a bit inside my chest.

I stop, tugging on his hand to make him stop, too. I look at him. Really look at him. My husband is a damn good man. I’ve always known it, and I know that he’s proud of his past, although a lot of it is tragic. He loved his mother, before she passed, considering she had raised him on her own and fought tooth and nail for everything they had. It would make sense he would be sympathetic for someone of a very similar life. 

When it’s clear I’m not saying anything, because I truly cannot find the words, his brows furrow. Before he can ask me what’s wrong, I lean up on my toes and press my lips to his cheek. He inhales, as if he’s shocked, and I let the kiss linger against his warm, stubbled cheek. Our hands remain clasped together and when I lean back, his eyes are searching mine.

“You’re a good man,” I say, my voice hoarse. “And a good boss.”

He swallows, but he nods as he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. 

I want to yank his mouth down to mine, but this moment is cherished and I don’t want to overstep, don’t want to ruin what we’ve built here. I give him a smile and we resume our walk. 

I make a note to stop by the restaurant this week and meet Emerie as we find our way back to the truck. Cassian helps me inside the cab and his hand lingers on mine, even after I’ve sat, before he closes the door and finds his way behind the wheel. 

We listen to music on the way home and he makes me laugh when he sings along to some nineties R&B song that definitely should’ve been left in the nineties. He catches me watching him on more than one occasion, and his smile softens every time he does. 

When we’ve made it home and witnessed Greg sprawled out next to the fruit bowl on the island, Cassian says, “I had a really good time tonight.”

“Yeah,” I say, setting my clutch on the counter. “It was a good night.”

He nods, and for a moment we just stand in the silence, staring at one another. He’s the one to break it.

“I have to be at the restaurant early tomorrow,” he says, but he’s stepped closer to me. “I should get ready for bed.”

“Right.” I clear my throat, not sure what to say, as I edge around the island, closer to him. “I have to go in early, too.”

Meetings with my manager and the publishing company start tomorrow. I have no idea where the future of my books are with this company, but they have to understand that I can’t keep putting out the same volume of content out. Not if I have any hope of salvaging my marriage.

He sets his keys in the center of the island, which puts him right in front of me. Staring up at him, I watch as his eyes dip down to my lips and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Can I…kiss you?”

I nod, not trusting my voice, holding my breath. He leans in and my eyes fall closed.

After a second, his lips press against mine and I’m lost. It’s been so long since he’s kissed me. I’d forgotten how soft his lips were, how heady his cologne made me feel, the feel of his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.

I melt into him, losing myself in the feel of his kiss, clinging to his shirt with both hands.

It’s over as quickly as it began.

When he pulls back, his hazel eyes are bright and he’s breathing heavily. I want to pull his face back to mine, want to grab him and drag him upstairs with me.

But Gwyn told us to hold off on sex.

Reaching up, I caress his stubbled cheek. “We should get to bed.”

He nods and swallows, not making a move to let me go any more than I’m making a move to let him go. I can tell his self control is on a short leash, just as mine is. So I step back and make my way upstairs.

He’s just behind me.

When we’ve reached our bedroom, Cassian quickly brushes his teeth before getting a pair of sweatpants. I’m watching him on the bed the entire time, suddenly not trusting myself to be too close to him. Before he leaves to go downstairs, he kisses my forehead, quickly. “Night, Nes.”

“Goodnight,” I say, but barely anything is audible as the word leaves my mouth. He leaves, and I feel empty once I’m alone. 

After stripping out of my dress and pulling on an old t-shirt, I wash my face and brush my teeth, and bury myself beneath the blankets of our bed. I miss Cassian sleeping next to me. Tonight, more than ever, the bed feels lonely. 

My heart is racing and I’m not tired in the slightest, despite the fact that I know I need to go to bed. I need to be well rested to deal with Eris’ shit in the morning.

But I can’t stop thinking about my husband, sleeping on the couch downstairs. I wonder if he wants to come up here, wants to climb into bed with me, wants to hold me until the sun comes up tomorrow morning.

I want his body pressed up against me.

I want to feel his skin on mine.

Fuck, the throbbing between my thighs is unbearable. I don’t want to touch myself, I want to run downstairs and have him touch me, taste me, fuck me until I can’t think straight. I’m not thinking straight now, I’m too horny, too needy.

It’s been too damn long.

But Gwyn is right. Nothing should be rushed. We need to wait until we’re good again, until we’re back to being Nesta and Cassian.

That doesn’t mean that he can’t sleep in his own bed, though.

Sex may be off the table, at least for now, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t share the same bed.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed before I can think better of it. The house is quiet as I make my way to the door and push it open. Everything’s dark, and I try to be as quiet as possible as I make my way down the hall. At the top of the stairs, I stop, making out Cassian’s massive figure on the couch. There’s no way he’s comfortable. Half of him is nearly hanging off of it. 

But he’s asleep.

At least, I think he’s asleep. The living room is dark, silent. He’s not moving. I think about walking down the stairs anyway, to brush his hair off his face and ask if he wants to join me, but I can’t seem to convince my feet to move. If he’s already asleep, he’s apparently not having the same internal crisis that I am. 

Silently, I turn around and go back to bed, careful not to make any noise, careful not to wake him. 

When I’m back beneath the blankets, I slip my hand beneath my panties and rub one out until that throbbing ache between my thighs is no more. 

[fandom-imagines-stories]

How Do You Know It's Worth It?

Season Two Episode Eight

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader (Aaron Hotchner’s Sister)

Words: 4031

Series Masterlist

Summary: While the reader works on returning to the more intense part of her job, Spencer struggles with the break and their current case. Aaron faces a fight of his own. 

Notes: This is another episode where I had planned to have more of the actual episode worked in, but I’m happy with how it turned out this way. It does jump around (surprise surprise) so just be aware of that. And I finally get to introduce the plot of The Reaper, which is such a great one in the show. However, that means we all know what’s coming… (And yes, I am making a Bones crossover. He may or may not make an appearance, along with anyone else from the show. I don’t care if it’s cliche, I’m excited)

-

Five Months Later

The crying shouts echoed down the hall. Tired eyes peered into the dark, a nightmare fading slowly into reality. With a few steps towards the sound, terrified words grew clearer. 

“Take… the… deal.” The voice was broken and desperate. “Take the deal.” 

You turned on a lamp in the living room and found his shaking form on the couch. He was still wearing his work clothes, his tie loosened around his neck. 

“I could have stopped him.” 

“Aaron?” 

His head jerked at the sound, but his eyes remained screwed shut. “Stop hunting me, I’ll stop hunting them. Stop hunting me, I’ll stop hunting them.” 

You let out a low sigh. It wasn’t the first time you’d woken up to those words. 

You knelt beside the couch and put a hand on his arm. “Aaron, wake up.” 

“He escaped… Foyet… hunt…” 

“He isn’t here.” You shook his arm gently. “Aaron, The Reaper isn’t here. You’re home. Wake up.” His shoulders thrashed. You shook harder and raised your voice. “Wake up.” 

He shot up so fast he almost hit you. His arm yanked away from your hand, propelling you backward into the coffee table. Papers scattered to the floor. 

“Foyet,” he breathed, his chest heaving. 

You sat up. “It was just a nightmare, Aaron. You’re home.” 

His dark eyes found yours and you watched him come back to himself. Aaron ran his hand down his face, swinging his legs over the side of the couch to sit. He held out a hand to help you up. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” You brushed yourself off and stood. “I thought we talked about you sleeping out here.” You noted the files spread over the coffee table. All had something to do with George Foyet. Phone records. Witness reports. Anything that could connect to that man. “And working so late.” 

He sighed. “I didn’t realize what time it was and I closed my eyes for a second.” He looked up at you with guilt. “I’m sorry I woke you.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You gave him a reassuring nod. “Between the two of our nightmare records, we should start keeping count.” He shook his head and, beneath his harried expression, you thought you caught a glimpse of a smile. 

The two of you ended up at the kitchen table with spoons and the secret tub of ice cream he sometimes had to hide from Jack between you. 

“You,” he took another spoonful, “should be getting your rest. You have a big week starting tomorrow.” 

You let the cool dessert dissolve on your tongue. “Dr. Sweets thinks it’ll be a good thing. Getting out from behind a desk and back to real research again could be just what I need.” 

“If I had known he’d be encouraging you to sit across from killers, I might not have recommended him,” Aaron said. 

A few months back, when it was clear the therapist you’d been seeing wasn’t working out, Aaron told you about a psychiatrist at the FBI. He was young, but Aaron had heard really good things about him. And, even though he usually only treated agents, he was more than happy to do the BAU unit chief a favor. 

While you were closed off at first, you’d come to think of Dr. Sweets as almost a friend as much as a therapist. There was something about his youthful excitement that just made you think of someone else you knew. 

“And I wasn’t just talking about work,” Aaron added, taking another scoop of the mint chip. He eyed you from across the table. “Are you sure you’re ready?” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve seen him since…” You cleared your throat. “Since I started staying here.” 

“But it’s the first time you’ve called it a date,” he said. 

He was right. While you’d seen Spencer here and there over the past few months for coffee and check-ins and the occasional awkward lunch, it was the first time you’d let yourself call a meal with him a date. Unpredictable schedule permitting, he was cooking for you at the apartment in a few days. Even just thinking about it almost gave you those butterflies you hadn’t felt since you first started seeing each other. 

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Don’t let Reid hear you say that,” Aaron chuckled. Frankly, he was a troubling mix of excited and worried for you. And for Reid. The younger agent had seemed anxious ever since you’d made the plans. But between staying with him and staying with Haley, he could tell the loneliness was starting to take a toll on you. “Just don’t try and rush into something you aren’t ready for.” 

You snorted and raised a brow at his wording. “I think we’re a little past the point for that kind of talk, don’t you think?”

“Y/N,” he groaned. “I have one rule.” 

“Come on, you walked into that one.” 

“Every joke, every comment you make about…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it, making you laugh even harder. “I can’t ever unhear that!” 

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” 

The two of you looked at each other for a moment before you both burst out laughing, any memory of either of your nightmares pushed to the back of your mind. 

You’d come so far. You had to believe there would be a point where you could start to feel like… well, you again. You only hoped that point was now. 

-

You packed everything into your messenger bag except for the journal on your nightstand- aka, Aaron’s desk. It was a light-colored leather with a silver clasp and a message on the inside cover. You knew it by heart. 

“In the journal I do not just express myself more openly than I could to any person; I create myself.” Susan Sontag. 

I hope you find a way to create a you that’s happy. 

Merry Christmas, Y/N.

Love, Spencer. 

You took it with you everywhere. Dr. Sweets thought it was a good idea for you to write down your feelings. That way, you wouldn’t just keep them inside. You thought it was unnecessary, but since it was a Christmas present from Spencer, you tried it anyway. 

You hated that they were both right. It wasn’t a magical solution, but, to some extent, it helped. Spencer may not have said the words ‘I told you so’ when you told him about it, but you could tell he was struggling not to. It made you smile. Really smile. 

You picked it up from the desk and carried it out with you. Today, you were going to need it. Sonia was letting you dip your toe into interview work again as part of a study on arsonists. You figured she’d tried to pick something as disconnected from your past as possible and fire was the best option. 

Still, it was better than the desk work you’d been stuck with ever since you’d been approved to come back to work after the weeks of rehab Aaron had you go to.

Your brother was gone before you left, but you knew he wouldn’t be there to wish you good luck, having woken up to a text saying he’d been called on a case. You had to pack a bag, since you’d be staying with Haley.

That was something else you were looking forward to with work. It was nice to be trusted again. 

Everything was set when you got to the office. The person you’d be interviewing was in a nearby prison, so you wouldn’t have too far of a drive. Sonia was going with you, but she’d let you be in charge of the interview itself. It was pretty customary to bring a partner and you were glad it’d be her. 

Despite what you’d told your brother, you could barely contain how nervous you were. 

When your phone started to ring, it wasn’t the voice you expected on the other line. 

“Aaron, I already told you I’ll be fine,” you answered with a roll of your eyes. 

There was a slight chuckle. “I’m sure you will be.” 

You stopped in your tracks. “Spencer, hey. Sorry, I figured you were my brother checking in.”

“Yeah, he seems a little more pensive than usual,” he said. You imagined the little turn of the corner of his lips. “I was just calling about this week. Maybe we can plan for whenever we get back from this case?” 

“Sounds good.” You could only hope you didn’t sound as nervous as you felt, but knew he’d be able to tell anyway. He always could. 

A moment of awkward, empty static passed before either of you said anything again. 

“I guess I should probably go,” he said. 

“Me too. Big day.” 

He blew out a breath. “Don’t push yourself too hard, okay? If you start to feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable, I’m sure your boss would let you step back again.” 

“I don’t want to step back,” you sighed. “I want to feel… normal again. Or as normal as either of our lives allow us to be.” He inhaled, preparing his argument, but you cut him off. “I’ll see you when you get back. Be safe, Spence.” 

Spencer closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah. You too. I’ll see you soon.” He left off the final three words in his mind. Since you broke things off and started staying with your brother, he was terrified of pushing you. As much as he wanted to remind you how much he loved you- even after all this time apart, after everything that happened- he didn’t want to make it too much. So he kept everything to himself, which had been eating at him for months. Still, the words burned on his tongue. 

I love you. 

“Hey,” JJ said, taking him out of his thoughts. “Everything okay?” 

“Y/N’s doing her first interview since she got back,” he explained. “I just wanted to check in on her before she goes.” 

“I don’t know how you guys do it.” JJ shook her head. “Sitting in a locked cell with people who have done such horrible things. Just thinking about it gives me the willies.” She noticed the nervous expression on the younger agent's face and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure Y/N will be fine. She wouldn’t be doing it unless she was ready.” 

He gave her a small smile. “I know.” Her words stayed in his mind as Hotch briefed the team on their new case in South Padre Island. Was Y/N asking him on a date a sign that she was ready to go back to the way things were? 

No. Things would never really go back to what they were before. It didn’t take a genius to realize that, but still. The small sliver of hope wouldn’t go away, no matter how much his logical brain tried to dispel it. 

Reid did his best to shake any thought of you and tried to focus on the case. No matter how hard he tried, your voice was still there, whispering ideas and theories about the murders.  It was going to be a long couple of days. 

-

You couldn’t stop shaking, though the interview had been done for an hour. Your fingers tapped diligently away at your computer, filling out the report for your findings. It wasn’t that the inmate frightened you. Training and years of detaching had prepared you well to face the monsters behind tragedies. 

It was the look in his eyes. 

The same one you saw in the mirror every morning. Just for a glimpse- a blink- but you still caught it. 

You wondered if it would ever go away. 

“You did well today,” Sonia said from your doorway. She gave you a reassuring smile. “Really well.” 

“Thanks.” You paused, thinking. “It means a lot that you’ve let me stay on here, Sonia. After, well, everything that happened.” 

“Are you kidding?” she said. “I don’t think I could afford to lose that brilliant mind of yours.”  She lingered for a moment to brief you on the next set of interviews she had planned for a study on the psychology of hitmen as serial murderers before leaving you alone again. 

You jumped when your phone rang, this time checking the number before you answered. 

“Penelope?” You said. Your heart dropped. “Wait, did something happen? Is everything okay? What happened?” 

“Relax, Wonder Woman,” she teased. “Everything is fine. I just wanted to know how your first day went. Hotch mentioned it was your first time doing the creepy interview thingy and I wanted to see how you were.” Clearly not well, judging by your immediate reaction, but she didn’t say anything about it. 

“Oh,” you blew out a sigh of relief. “It went… well about as well as it could have, given the task.” 

“How you all do that kind of thing, I’ll never understand,” Penelope shuddered. “I will stick to the safety of my screens, thank you.” 

You chuckled. “Fair enough.” Holding the phone between your ear and shoulder, you turned to face your window. The sky was gray and the clouds were heavy with the rain that was supposed to start later that evening. “Listen, Penelope, I know I’m not supposed to ask-”

“They’re okay,” she interrupted and you could hear the smile in her voice. “You could just call him, you know.”

“I don’t like to bother Aaron when he’s on cases. He likes to keep his private life separate-”

Her bubbly tone stops you again. “I wasn’t exactly talking about Hotch.” 

You groan. “Penelope, you know that we-”

“Aren’t together, I know, and you know how much that breaks my heart. Even though I support you in your decision and I’m here for you every step of the way-”

“Penelope,” you laughed, stopping her before she freaked herself out. “Thanks for checking in on me. We’ll get together soon, yeah?” 

She finally takes a breath. “Yeah. Okay. See you then.” She almost sounds disappointed. When she’s done talking to you, it’s back to death and gore. “Lots of love, Garcia out.”  

You laid your phone face down on your desk, trading it for your journal. 

“Think about the progress you’ve made.” You could practically hear Dr. Sweets’ encouragement as you picked up a pen. And you wanted to think about the day in a positive light. A step in the right direction. But the words that flowed from your hand cast a different spell. 

Today I saw the eyes of a killer and thought I saw a reflection of me in them. I know that what I did was in self-defense and I know that I probably saved more than just me… but will I ever stop feeling like this? 

Your phone rang as you dotted the last ‘i.’ 

“Penelope-” You started, having not looked at the number.

“Wrong again.” 

Spencer stood at the window of his hotel room, looking out at the ocean with his phone on speaker and information for the case laid out in front of him. He’d been staring at pages and photos for the past hour, but something one of the witnesses said had stuck with him. It made him think of you. 

“Spence.” You sat up in your chair. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no it’s not that,” he said. 

“You sound upset, what is it?”

“It’s nothing, I swear…” he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

“But you did, so obviously it must be important.” You packed your journal in your bag, putting the phone to your ear as you locked up your office. “Talk to me.” 

He picked up the phone and opened the door to his balcony. The cool evening breeze greeted him, along with the sound of music from the multiple parties going on. He held the phone to his ear and sighed. 

“We talked to one of the workers of the hotel today,” he explained. “He’d found the body and was up on the roof smoking when Morgan and I found him. It’s just… he said something that stuck with me I guess. I don’t know, it made me think of you and-and me and the things we’ve both been through.” 

You inhaled sharply. “What did he say?” 

“He asked if I had seen ‘bad stuff,’” Spencer said. “And then he asked how long before you can close your eyes without it being there.” He held the cell in one hand and gripped the metal railing with the other. “I told him I still don’t know.” 

You closed your eyes, as if to prove a point. 

Sure enough, Sarah stayed like a photograph that hadn’t quite faded in time. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” You asked. 

“I don’t know.” Spencer took a deep breath. “I hope so.” 

You didn’t say anything and he just took a moment to listen to the sounds of you leaving your office and getting to your car. Going to Haley’s, he already knew. He wished he could be there to talk to you in person. To see your eyes again and to sit in silence and just hear each other’s breath. 

“Again, sorry for calling,” he said. “I actually don’t know why I did. I don’t know why I felt like I needed to tell you that.”

“You never have to apologize for calling me, Spence.” You closed your car door and waited to start the ignition. “I’ll see you when you get back, okay?” You closed your eyes again, only this time you imagined him instead. His messy hair. His smile. The little crinkle above his nose when he was thinking. “I love you.” 

He held the railing a little tighter. 

“I love you too.” 

“Call me when you get back.”

“I will.” 

“Goodnight, Spence.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.” 

You hung up first but you both held the phones for a little while longer, as if you were holding onto each other’s words. 

-

He’d arrived back after everybody else, but didn’t tell you why. He hadn’t even called you when he returned. Instead, he’d been talking on the phone with Aaron for the past twenty minutes, though what about, you had no idea. 

Whatever happened in South Padre Island had affected him more than anyone else on the team. 

While you waited in Aaron’s office/your bedroom, your brother paced across his room with Reid’s rattling off facts on the other end of the line. From the sounds of it, Adam Jackson wasn’t ‘coming back’ anytime soon. 

“How do you know it’s worth it?” Reid asked. He said it so quickly and so in line with his other words, Hotch almost didn’t catch it. 

“What?” 

“This job,” the younger agent sighed. “How do you know it’s worth it?” 

Hotch stopped in his tracks. 

Spencer, who’d also been pacing for the entirety of their conversation, had stopped as well. He stared blankly at your desk. While you hadn’t used it in months, he’d always tried to make sure to keep it clean, but now there was a thin layer of dust on the surface. He must have been too busy with work to notice. 

He’d been too busy with work to notice a lot of things. 

Hotch sighed, pulling Reid’s thoughts back to their conversation. 

“I don’t think I can answer that for you,” Hotch said. He opened his door slightly, catching a glimpse of you in the other room. “You have to decide that for yourself.” 

Aaron couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he’d made the right decision. 

“Thanks, Hotch,” Reid said. He turned away from the desk, facing the kitchen. “I should go. I have to start dinner.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I can tell Y/N-”

“No, I want to see her,” Reid said, his tone betraying the return of his nerves. “I’ll text her to come over. I just hope I can put something together in time.” 

Hotch wanted to play the protective older brother and tell the younger man that a date was the last thing Reid needed after such a harrowing case. But maybe being with someone other than the team, especially someone as close to him as you, would be better for him. Better for both of you. 

“I’ll let her know.” 

“Thanks.”

“And Reid.”

Spencer gulped. “Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be okay to just get takeout tonight,” Hotch suggested. “Wouldn’t want you burning down the apartment before she gets there.” 

Reid laughed anxiously. “I’ll figure something out. Bye, Hotch.” 

This time, he was the first to hang up. 

But as he felt the exhaustion make his limbs and eyelids heavy, he picked up his phone again.

And ordered a pizza. 

-

With an empty box and not a word spoken between you, you were starting to wonder if you should leave. Aaron had warned you that Spence had had a rough time on the last case, but there was something else hanging in the silence. 

“How did the interview go?” He asked, finally breaking the agonizing minutes of quiet. 

“I think it went well. Sonia seems to think I’m ready for more, so that’s exciting,” you said. “I’m glad to be away from my desk after the past few weeks.”

“Yeah, you seemed a little stir-crazy,” he smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, you saw a hesitance in his hazel gaze. Setting your crust aside, you put a hand on his arm.

“Spencer, what is it?” Your fingers traced a wrinkle in his sleeve. “What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” 

“Do you think I should quit the BAU?” He blurted. 

You coughed, wrapping your head around his words to make sure you understood him correctly. 

“What?” 

“I just…” He blew out a breath. “Sometimes it's just hard to see the point. I mean, take this case, for example. We arrested the victim and let the abuser go free. And now, there’s a scared man trapped so far into his own mind because his alternate personality won’t let him out. And you know what Morgan told me? He said ‘You’re going to have to accept the fact that sometimes we can’t save everyone.’” Spencer stood up, running a hand through his hair. “Then what’s the point? If we can’t save Tobias-” 

He stopped, the last name dying on his lips. You said nothing, giving him a moment to process before he continued. 

“Just think about Hotch. Even he was going to transfer, and when he didn’t, the other side of his life fell apart.” Spence shook his head. “I spend so much time trying to save everyone that I-” He took a shaking breath. “That I didn’t know you were the one that needed me the most.” Spencer turned back to you with tearful eyes. “I can’t be yours in this job.” 

“No, Spencer,” you said, shaking your head and standing up to take his face in your hands. “You are everything I need you to be.” Tucking a hair behind his ear, you looked into his eyes with more assurance than you’d felt in a long time. “Your dedication to your job is just one of the things I love. And, believe me, you weren’t the first person in my life I’ve had to share with the BAU.”

The corner of his lips tugged up into a crooked smile. 

You kept going. “You love your work, even though it’s dark and terrifying and messy. You save people. And no, you can’t save everyone, but that doesn’t mean you stop trying.” You leaned closer. “You saved me.” 

He nodded, still holding back tears. 

Eyes still searching his, you closed the space between you and kissed him as if for the first time. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you as close as he could while his lips moved against yours with a sigh of relief in his chest. 

Time slowed. 

You both forgot about the week you’d had and let the relaxing familiarity of each other’s embrace coax your stresses away. 

For the first time in months, you slept in your own bed.

-

The In-Betweens series: @amywright; shesoperfectt;  hereforsmutbcicantgetenough;  violetbossler;  hyper-half-blood;  i-bitch-you-bitch; xcastawayherosx; preciousbabypeter; @jori21; @sol-48;  @murdermornings ; @ staygoldsquatchling02; @ ara-a-bird

[lynzishell]

~*~The Beginning~*~

*knock* *knock* *knock* [keys jangling, fitting into lock] [muffled voices] Aurelio: Thank you for doing this, I really appreciate it.

Aurelio: Phoenix? You here? Phoenix: *muffled* Go away. Aurelio: He’s here, he’s okay. Thank you again!

Aurelio: Hey man, you gave us quite a scare. You okay? Phoenix: …. Aurelio: No, of course you’re not okay. I heard about Greta. I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved her. Phoenix: … Aurelio: Hey. Talk to me. Phoenix: … Aurelio: Come on. You’ll feel better if you sit up and talk about it. Phoenix: …

Aurelio: Alright. I’ll tell you what. If you don’t talk, then I’ll have to sing. Phoenix: … Aurelio: I will sing to you. Phoenix: … Aurelio: Okay.. [clears throat and begins singing] Sometimes in our lives, we all have pain, we all have sorrow. Phoenix: *groaning* Aurelio: [continues singing] But if we are wise, we know that there’s always tomorrow. Phoenix: Ok Aurelio: [singing louder] Lean on me when you’re not strong, and I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on!

Phoenix: Ok ok I’m up Aurelio: [singing louder still] For it won’t be long, till I’m gonna need somebody to lean on! Phoenix: I said I’m up!

Aurelio: Good… good, now talk to me.

Phoenix: [taking a breath] I fucked up! I fucked everything up! And now everything’s gone to shit. I fucking killed him. Sure, he was a monster, but what am I? I’m a fucking killer now? What am I supposed to do with that? And I lost Greta. Do you know what she said to me? She doesn’t feel safe with me. What the fuck?! I appreciate you all having my back and lying for me… but maybe you shouldn’t have. What do I even do now? I’m alone in this dump of an apartment. I have no job. I only have enough in savings to get through next month. Then what? I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. I don’t know who I am anymore, Aurelio.

He didn’t even notice he had started crying until he had to stop to wipe his nose.

Phoenix: FUCK! Why are you here?!

Aurelio: I’m here because I care about you, because you’re my best friend. I know exactly who you are. You are Phoenix fucking Realta. You are smart, resourceful, determined. All the things you moved here for, they’re all still out there waiting for you. And you’re not alone. I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I got into SMMI. I’m moving into the student housing apartments in the Arts Quarter in a couple months.

Phoenix: Congratulations. Aurelio: Thank you. Look, I know it’s been an awful year so far. Maybe you need someone to talk to, to work through the whole mess, and that’s okay. I've started seeing a therapist, only a couple sessions so far, but it's good. And I think it'd be good for you too, if you're willing. Julian and I will help. Phoenix: Ok. Aurelio: Yeah? Phoenix: Yeah. Aurelio: Good.

Phoenix: Thanks. Aurelio: You’re welcome. Phoenix: … Aurelio: Y’know, we have our whole lives ahead of us. And you are going to do great things. I know it.

Aurelio: This isn’t the end, ok? This is just the beginning.

Prev // Next

Personal story under the cut:

This post is dedicated to two amazing friends I had in high school. At the time, I was suffering from a deep depression, and had stopped speaking (a trauma response that still affects me from time to time). One day my friends pulled me out of bed and took me for a walk to the park on a sunny day. While we were there, they tried to get me to talk to them. But I couldn’t. So, instead, they sang this song to me… at the top of their lungs. And it was amazing. It didn’t solve anything. I didn’t speak for another couple months, and my depression lasted years more. But that moment will forever be a bright spot in a very dark time. To this day, anytime I feel down, I think back to that day and smile. After everything I put Phoenix through this week, I felt like he needed a moment like that… even if it’s super cheesy.

[sesamestreep]

Crozier/Fitzjames, fake amnesia

from this list of reverse tropes for fic writers. i told @firstelevens I wasn’t sure I had it in me to write fic for these two and then I went and washed my hair and while I did that, this idea popped into my head fully formed and I was bound by honor to write it down. Also it’s the first thing my brain has wanted to write in like two months, so I took that as a good sign?? Anyway, here’s…something. Kind of a Parks and Rec AU?? but also not in any serious way? It’s like…what if these dudes from The Terror worked in local government or whatever… don’t worry about logistics, I mostly wanted to write Blanky and Crozier being best friends and also talk about sobriety feelings a bunch. AND THEN I DID. only fits the prompt if you squint super hard but, regardless, please enjoy… on ao3 because why not

“So, you feel ready to go back to work tomorrow?”

Francis removes his gaze with considerable effort from the perfect red orb that is the sun sinking steadily under the horizon line across the lake and shifts it reluctantly back to Tom, who’s sitting back in his chair with his booted foot propped up on a milk crate that he got from God knows where. The sight of the boot that encases the lower half of his left leg does push a wave of guilty bile up the back of his throat but he’s already been told that if he apologizes for causing Tom to have need of it one more time, he’ll be drowned in the aforementioned lake, so he resists. Tom knows Francis is sorry about what happened and he’s chosen to forgive him, even if Francis still thinks it’s a stupid choice, second only to him befriending Francis in the first place all those years ago. Francis doesn’t know where he himself would have ended up if that hadn’t happened, though, so it all comes out in the wash he supposes.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Francis says, tracing a hairline fracture in his coffee mug with his thumbnail just for something to do. “If I take any more time off, I’ll just never go back, so it’s now or never, really.”

“Attaboy,” Tom says before taking a long, thoughtful drink from his own mug. Out of solidarity, or maybe sensitivity, he hadn’t had anything to drink tonight either, despite Francis’s assurances that it wouldn’t bother him and might even be a good idea, just for him to get used to it. It’s not like he could reasonably expect to go the rest of his life without ever seeing alcohol again. He’d seen four different ads for light beer alone this afternoon while watching reruns of ‘Bones’ on the couch and imagining every possible way his first day back in the office after rehab could go wrong and that hadn’t sent him into a tailspin, so he’d probably survive watching his best friend drink in his presence. Still, Tom had chosen to just drink decaf coffee with him after dinner like the ancient relics they are, because he is, without a doubt, the best person Francis has ever known. “You talk to anybody about it? I mean, besides me…”

“What, you mean like a therapist? Of course. I’ve got, what, six of them now, for Christ’s sake!”

“No, I mean, from the office. Have you talked to anyone about coming back?”

“Well, John, obviously.”

“I suppose you’d have to, yeah,” Tom says, running a ponderous hand over his chin. “Anything interesting from that quarter?”

“Just about what you’d expect,” Francis says, trying to be generous. John had been kind enough to let him keep his job, after all, despite how bad things got in the end, but Francis’s issues with the man remain, even with his newfound sobriety. Francis had sent him a long, downright obsequious email apologizing for the damage he’d done with his drunken theatrics both over the years and in the very recent past and explained in detail all the ways he was going to do better in the future, while expressing gratitude for the unprecedented amount of grace everyone, but particularly John, had shown him during this stressful time. It was, in no uncertain terms, the most embarrassing thing Francis has ever had to do, and he has, in his life, proposed to the same woman three separate times with absolutely no success, so it’s not like he’s lacking in options for that top spot.

John is, thankfully, the sort of man who likes to breeze past unpleasantness wherever he can and is also, more importantly, a deeply entrenched bureaucrat who’d just as soon do no work as do even a little work and therefore could not be bothered to hire a replacement for Francis. In fact, if he had to guess, John was probably clever enough to frame it as some sort of protection against a discrimination lawsuit somewhere down the line, despite the fact that several things Francis did at the staff Christmas party right before hitting rock bottom were definitely fireable offenses. John’s unflappable dedication to the status quo has worked in Francis’s favor for once, and while he certainly doesn’t deserve the break, he’s going to take it where he can get it on the off chance it never happens again.

“And the staff? Your team, I mean.”

“I got coffee with a few of them individually, just to clear the air and apologize, so that if anyone wanted to take a swing at me, they could do it outside of work,” Francis says, scuffing his shoe against the porch.

“Well, that’s considerate of you. Any of them try it?”

“No. The cowards,” Francis scoffs, which makes Tom laugh. “Jopson and Edward both seemed like they might be sick at the prospect of anyone in charge actually deigning to apologize to them, which was…humbling, to say the least. Then I got an extremely nervous monologue from Harry about the history and relative efficacy of Alcoholics Anonymous, which I think was his way of saying we’re square. And Silna told me if I tried to meet up with her outside of work hours again, she’d block my number and quit without notice, so...”

“She’s got the right of it,” Tom says, with a crooked grin.

“Yeah, that was my favorite of the lot,” Francis replies. “We’ll have a team meeting tomorrow and we’ll get someone in from HR so everyone can talk about feelings, God help us, but I think it might be okay. Which I could not have predicted when all this started, but here we are.”

“I could have,” Tom says. “You’ve made plenty of mistakes, I grant you, but you’ve also done right by these people in a lot of ways. They’re not going to forget that in a hurry. They’re a loyal bunch.”

Francis nods, looking out over the water again. The pinks and golds of the sunset a few moments ago have already faded into purples and blues as night creeps in. The nocturnal chorus of frogs croaking and insects trilling is rising in the nearby woods. He’s already said his piece about how absurd it is that they’re sitting comfortably outside on the porch after dinner—with jackets on and a fire going, sure, but still—and it’s only the beginning of March. Tom doesn’t need to hear any more ranting about global warming right now; it’s no fair repayment of his generosity. What Francis really should do is head for home soon and let his friend have some peace and quiet. He could use some of that himself, but he somehow doubts that he’ll get much rest once he’s home for the evening. At least he can panic about tomorrow properly there, though, by himself.

“Speaking of throwing punches,” Tom says, carefully, after they’ve been quiet a moment, “have you spoken to James at all?”

Francis winces with what feels like his entire body. “I haven’t had the chance,” he says, as lightly as he can manage.

It isn’t precisely true. If he found the time to contact everyone else who’d been affected by his spectacular fall from grace during his leave of absence, he could have found the time to reach out to James too, but he hadn’t. The apology he owes James Fitzjames is too big for an email, which he’d, in a truly cowardly fashion, gotten away with for almost everyone else, and the presumption and humiliation of asking for any of his free time as he’d done with some of his subordinates was a bridge too far. Besides, if they’d met up at a coffee shop to talk things out, Francis has no doubt James would have ordered his drink with oat milk or stevia instead of sugar or mentioned a cleanse he was on and Francis would have rolled his eyes and said something awful and then he probably would have had to go to rehab all over again, which would have defeated the point. Francis has been told by outside observers—professionals in the field, for what it’s worth—that he’s making progress, but he’s even more sure that he’s still, at his core, a miserable old bastard. He’s just less miserable than he was before, by a small margin. Unfortunately, he’s not any less old, though. In fact, he’s older, but that’s beside the point.

“You’ll have to face him sooner or later,” Tom says, not quite gently but not as bullying as he could be either.

“I know,” Francis says, covering his face with his hands. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I mean, if anyone’s entitled to an in-person apology, it’s James, surely.”

“After you punched him in front of everyone at the Christmas party and verbally berated him? Yeah, I think something more than a text message might be in order.”

“You accepted an apology text,” Francis says, scowling into his mug. “And I broke your leg. You needed surgery and everything. I don’t even think I broke James’s nose.”

“Only because your aim sucks when you’re wasted,” Tom replies, unbothered. “Gave him quite the shiner, though, if you want to compare wounds.”

Francis sighs. “I already said I’d talk to him. You have my word.”

“What am I? Your bloody father?”

“No, and I like you a great deal better for it.”

“Good, then what do I need your word for?”

“I was just trying to convey my sincerity.”

“I don’t doubt your sincerity, Francis. Never have. It’s everyone else you need to convince.”

“I don’t know what to say to James,” Francis says, into his hands. “I mean, with you at least, we’ve known each other for ages. We can bounce back from quite a lot, it turns out. James, he’s—I’ve never known how to talk to him in the first place. Now I’ve got to do it sober? I don’t know where to start.”

“How about, ‘James, I’m sorry for trying to knock your lights out with an audience present while I was drunk off my ass on the company dime’ to start?”

Francis closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, letting the shame wash over him like a wave and then, more importantly, letting it recede like waves do. He sighs loudly and shakes his head.

“You know, I’ve always regretted I wasn’t the sort of drunk who forgets what he does when he’s wasted. Feels like it might be easier, ultimately. Like, I could say, ‘oh, sorry for whatever I might have done to you, James. The trouble is I don’t remember any of it, but I’m sure it’s nothing I would have done sober, all the same.’”

“Feigning amnesia?” Tom barks, laughing and looking at him sideways. “What’s that? The thirteenth step?”

“Leave me alone,” Francis replies, waving him off but laughing himself despite his best efforts. “I’ve done a lot of owning up to things lately. Can’t I keep one petty grievance for myself?”

“You could probably get away with it, if you’d left it as a petty grievance rather than escalating to violence. And your resistance to dealing with James should tell you making amends there is your highest priority. Discomfort is a good thing here, a signal you’re heading in the right direction. If it were all easy, everyone would do it, you know.”

“That’s lovely, Tom. Will you be cross-stitching any of these aphorisms onto pillows to remind me to stay the course, or shall I just memorize them for when times get tough?”

“Fuck off, you dusty old prick,” Tom laughs. “Hey, what about this? ‘James, I’m ever so sorry for getting plastered and calling you out in front of everyone and then attempting to rearrange your pretty face with my fist! I do think some of the blame lies in you being so pretty and in me having some unresolved issues around my masculinity and my self-esteem, all of which you can blame on my waste of a father figure growing up, but in this case, I suppose I have to shoulder some of the responsibility for my actions myself. Forgive me?’”

“There’s no one else on earth who could get away with saying even half those things to me, you know,” Francis says, even as his blood doesn’t boil or even heat in the slightest hearing them. It rushes to his face instead, no doubt resulting in a fierce blush that the gathering darkness mercifully hides from view.

“I earned it the hard way, my friend,” Tom says, patting his boot.

“That you did,” Francis says, and rises from his seat. “I’d better be going, then. Much to do, after all: apologies to draft, laundry to fold, worst case scenarios to spin out.”

Tom gets up with effort, clunky and inelegant in his boot, but not so proud as to decline Francis’s hand when it’s offered. “I wasn’t trying to scare you off,” he says once he’s vertical.

“You didn’t. It’s like I said, I’ve a lot to do before the big day.”

Tom nods and, after a moment of deliberation, puts a hand on Francis’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, you know.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Francis replies, shifting away from the praise. “More of a bad man trying to be better.”

Tom gives him a long look at that and then shakes his head, smiling. “All that work on yourself and you still don’t get it,” he says, not unkindly. “What else do you think a good man is?”

Francis doesn’t know, but he spends the whole ride home and the rest of the night thinking about it all the same.

*

Francis’s plan of attack, such as it even exists, takes form more easily than he could have predicted. Once he starts thinking about how best to approach James at work and make amends on that front, he finds he knows a lot more about the man than he originally thought. A few years working together, however contentiously, has been enough to pick up on each other’s habits and quirks well enough that Francis can reasonably predict when he’ll be able to get a moment of James’s time without anyone else around. The fact that he can do this and yet never thought to do it before under any other circumstances is the cause of another wave of shame that passes less quickly than Francis would like.

Francis arrives at the City Planner’s office just before 8:30 in the morning with the certainty that he won’t run into John—the man has many flaws but his dedication to never showing up to work any earlier than he absolutely needs to is not one of them, in Francis’s opinion—but that he will, in all likelihood, find James already there and more than likely already working. He also arrives with the materials for a bribe, should that prove necessary.

He’s so worked up, going through everything he’s planning to say one last time in his mind before he actually sees James, that he doesn’t think to knock on the outer door, which is sitting half-open anyway, and just barges in instead. It’s not a great start, he realizes a second after it’s too late to do anything else, and it’s made even worse by the fact that James is there, as expected, and he’s only partially in his shirt, which is not so expected. Francis stops and gapes for a moment with all the grace of someone who’s been tased.

“God, sorry,” he says, and tries to step back, only to collide with the door jamb. “I should’ve—”

“Francis, it’s—good morning, I—this isn’t—I’m the—I’m sorry,” James says, managing to sound crisp and self-possessed even when he’s stammering his way through an apology. “I don’t normally…do this…in the office, I mean.”

“No, of course not,” Francis says, behaving like a teenager in a romantic comedy for some reason and averting his eyes, even though there’s nothing to see. James was in the process of buttoning his shirt when he came in, so it’s really the sight of his clavicle that’s made Francis so uncomfortable. Was he always this much of a ninny? Is that why he started drinking, to cover it up? It’s the only explanation that makes any sense now.

“I went for a run this morning and I neglected to pack a shirt with my work clothes, so I had to use the spare I keep in my desk for emergencies.”

The old Francis (of several weeks and easily a thousand group sessions ago) would have rolled his eyes at any number of things in that small explanation: running to work, keeping a spare shirt in one’s desk, referring to anything related to fashion as an ‘emergency’ and meaning it. Now, he nods thoughtfully and tries to think of it all as part and parcel of what he respects and admires about James: his dedication and planning, his ability to anticipate and address future challenges. The fact that he looks nice in blue. Whatever. It turns out it’s easier to do than he imagined it would be.

“I don’t think you have a habit of undressing in the office for fun, James,” Francis says, instead of any of those nice things. “Don’t worry.”

“Right,” James says, lightly, even as his shoulders remain tense. He does up the last few buttons and his clavicle disappears under the taut poplin fabric of his dress shirt. “Well, what can I do for you, Francis?”

Francis has heard—and, in turn, mocked—James on any number of occasions start conversations with a smooth, ‘to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’, which is not an expression Francis himself has been treated to in a long time and for good reason. He doesn’t know why he thinks of it now, except that he’d take even a sarcastic reference to the pleasure of his company (of which there is none and never has been for James in particular, he thinks) over the idea that James should do anything for him, at this point.

“You��re training, then?” Francis asks, skirting gracelessly around the question James actually posed. “For another one of the what-do-ya-call-em’s? Not a marathon. The thing you did last year…?”

“The Ironman,” James suggests, looking slightly pained. “It’s a triathlon.”

“Yeah, that sounds right. Another one of those?”

“God, no,” James replies, nose wrinkling slightly before he seems to catch himself doing it and intentionally blanks his expression. “I’m not likely to do another one of those. I already have my bragging rights, after all. Today’s run was just for health.”

“Oh, sure,” Francis says, tapping a fingertip nervously against the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup. “I’m meant to be doing that now.”

“Running?” James asks, betraying some surprise, which is fair enough.

“Exercising. For my health. To keep me…”

“Fit?”

“Well, distracted,” Francis replies, with a shrug. “There seems to be some thought of it helping to keep me away from drink, though I’m not sure what the logic is there. But I’m meant to be thinking of something I’d enjoy, anyway.”

“Not running, then,” James says, brow crinkling like he’s giving the matter serious thought. James is a fixer by nature—and by profession, of course, being paid mostly to follow John around and make sure the grand promises that flow from his mouth actually happen somehow. He thrives with a problem to solve. If Francis were even marginally less stupid and less proud, he might have thought to come to James sooner. He’s nothing if not several very large problems wrapped in a trench coat. Or a wind breaker, in actuality. The point is, Francis could use all the fixing he can get his hands on.

“Not likely. Never enjoyed it, really. Hard on the ankles, I’ve found.”

“Yes, it can be quite stressful on the joints. You’ve got to take all sorts of precautions,” James says, in the tone he gets when he’s working his way up to a long treatise of some kind, but he stops abruptly and his face betrays that he’s seemingly caught himself. He clears his throat. “So, it’s not for everyone. I understand.”

“Yes, well, my sponsor was saying that I might try tennis or racquetball, but then I’d have to find a regular partner or group, and I’m not sure I have it in me.”

“There’s a club nearby, actually, and they could help you arrange—” James pauses and shakes his head, once again stopping himself from expounding on the different options available the way he normally would. It’s an uncharacteristic amount of restraint coming from James, who loves recommending things to other people almost as much as he loves the sound of his own voice. Francis sees some of his own handiwork in this new display of shame and feels the need to make amends even more keenly than before because of it. “Well, you can Google it, I imagine, and it would be faster than listening to me. It is, uh—it’s in Eagleton, however, so I suppose that won’t do.”

“No,” Francis replies, frowning. “Thanks all the same, though. I imagine I’ll end up doing water aerobics with the rest of the senior citizens at the community center and call it a day.”

“You’re not a—you’re barely fifty, Francis!”

“I’m fifty-two, actually.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I hope you have your affairs in order,” James gripes, as he messes with something entirely unnecessarily on his desk. Francis smiles at the strange comfort of annoying him, which should not be reassuring to him at all but he’s a messed up sort of fellow even on his best days. The smile grows when James clears his throat again and adds, like he can’t quite stop himself, “Swimming’s rather good for the joints, actually.”

“Swimming?” Francis asks.

“Yes, swimming. As in, laps…in a pool. Something else the community center offers, if you were interested. It’s solitary—meditative, even—and good exercise. In—that is, in case you were wondering.”

“If this is you trying to talk me into a triathlon, James—”

James sniffs, more performatively haughty than genuinely haughty, Francis suspects. “I’d never,” he says. “I was merely recommending an activity that you might enjoy more than water aerobics, and that might spare the elderly of our community from dealing your obvious personality disorder early in the morning, when those classes tend to be held.”

Francis, much to James’s surprise from the look on his face, laughs at that. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he says, while James continues to regard him like he’s wild animal exhibiting signs of rabies who’s suddenly appeared in his path, which is maybe a common occurrence in town, depending on who you ask. “Thank you.”

James nods, distracted. “Sure.”

“Well, I—I…listen, I didn’t come here to talk about exercise regimes, which I figure you could have guessed,” Francis says, in a rush, because anything less than a headlong dive into the subject they need to discuss will hurt much worse than just getting it over with, he suspects. “And I don’t want to presume anything about your life, but I also figure there’s a non-zero chance that you’re already familiar with the famous 12 step program, maybe just through cultural osmosis, and I don’t want to over explain any of it to you, but, well, there’s a pretty important part about identifying people you’ve wronged through your addiction and the resulting behavior and making direct amends to said try people and—”

“I’m familiar,” James interrupts, softly. “Not directly, of course, or, um, anything like that—I don’t want to detract—but—”

Francis waves him off. “No need to explain. I just—well, obviously, that list of people, for me, had to include you, because of what transpired between us at the end of last year and how I behaved. The things I said to you, then—how I’ve always spoken to you, really—and of course, I—God, I’m so sorry. It feels absurd to say out loud but I’m sorry for lashing out at you and hitting you, I should never have—”

“It’s fine, Francis,” James says, starchily. He’s got a nervous hand pressed to his ribcage, so intently that it’s almost shocking to look and see no actual knife sticking out from there, somehow. With that, it’s hard to believe the breeziness of his words. “Really, this isn’t necessary.”

“And I’m telling you it is,” Francis explains, as carefully as he can manage. “Maybe it isn’t for you, I don’t know, but it’s necessary for me. Do you—can you understand that?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” James says, after a deep breath. “Of course. Is there…more?”

“You tell me. Is there any other ways my drinking harmed you that I haven’t thought of?”

“No, I wasn’t—”

Francis holds up a hand to stop him. “That probably read as very sarcastic, given our…history, let’s say, but it was a genuine question. I think I’ve raked myself over the coals for every possible slight I can imagine but if there’s anything I did that I can address for you now, I’d have you tell me.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” James replies, shakily. “I only meant, I don’t really know what goes into all this. Is amends just an apology or is there more to it? I don’t need there to be, I was just curious. That’s all.”

“Well, you’re meant to endeavor to show you’ve changed your ways, I suppose. To indicate that you won’t be perpetuating the same harm in the future. Which, in this case, is tough, because…well, I mean, all I can give you is my word I won’t try to knock you out at work ever again.”

“Outside of work hours, however…” James muses, with a small, mirthless smile.

Francis winces, but otherwise doesn’t react. “I’ll never behave that way towards you again. On my honor, for whatever that’s worth.”

James folds his arms over his chest and looks down at the carpet, appearing like a sullen youth for a brief moment before he raises his gaze and becomes a grown man once more. Francis remembers when he’d shown up with John that first time, how he’d called James an infant to Tom when they finished their initial meeting with him about the town’s budget crisis all those years ago. Tom had laughed at him, wheezing ‘he’s a decade younger than us, if he’s anything, Francis. He’s our bloody peer now, and if you don’t see it, you’re cracked!’ Francis thought—still thinks—Tom is the one who’s cracked, in this case. James looked young, then; he looks young now, everywhere except the eyes, which contain a stormy sea’s worth of disappointment. Francis can be self-centered with the best of them but he knows he’s not the one who put that feeling there in the first place. He’s not that important. For the first time, however, he feels protective of the man in front of him because of it and takes it as his very solemn duty to never be the cause of his disappointment again, so long as it can be helped. All that and it’s not even 9 in the morning yet.

“It’s worth plenty,” James says, eventually, clearly just as uncomfortable with this much emotion so early in the day as Francis is and eager to be done with it. “Thank you, Francis.”

“Yes, well, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’ve been nuisance enough for one morning, but if there’s ever anything you want to discuss or clear up between us, my door’s always open. To you, that is. Well, to anyone, but just in case your particular welcome was unclear, I mean, you should—”

James sweeps a hand out wide in a graceful gesture like he’s literally clearing the air. “Understood,” he says, sincerely, “and appreciated.”

“Great,” Francis says, too cheerily and then winces again. “I mean, uh—right, I’ll just be going then.”

As he pivots back towards the door, the sloshing noise of the ice shifting in one of the cups he’d forgotten he was holding draws his attention. Christ, right. The whole point was—Francis really is starting to lose his mind. He contemplates just leaving anyway, like nothing’s amiss, but he’ll have to explain the two drinks to his team, absolutely none of whom will buy that the iced chai is for him. He’s gone on too many rants about how coffee shouldn’t be iced and tea only on certain occasions. He’s the type to drink hot, black coffee even on the most brutal summer days, though his sponsor did warn him that a lot of alcoholics do turn to sweets as a coping mechanism for replacing alcohol in their daily lives and not to be surprised if he found himself needing additional sweetener in his morning coffee as a result. Francis hadn’t credited it at the time, but he had found himself momentarily tempted at the coffee shop this morning by a sign advertising something called a ‘death by chocolate latte’ as the daily special before he’d gotten a hold of himself, so maybe there’s some truth to it. The point is, dragging this extra drink back to his office will be more humiliating than turning around and giving it to James like he originally planned, no matter how awkward it feels right now.

“Okay,” he says, turning back, “I promise this is the last thing and then I will let you get back to work. There’s, uh—it’s not a bribe, mind you, just an extension of the apology for what happened and for the fact that you’ll have to continue working with me for the foreseeable future and—you don’t have to forgive me, you don’t owe me that, I just thought—”

James looks at him, utterly perplexed, fingertips gently steepled on the top of the desk like he’d already been going back to whatever he was working on when Francis interrupted again. “What is it?” he asks, somehow still not betraying any annoyance at the interruption, hiding it well under an open tone of curiosity.

“The—this,” Francis finally spits out with considerable effort, holding the cup out towards James, rather than try to explain himself further. “It’s for you.”

“Oh,” James replies, with an expression like Francis is trying to hand him a live gerbil and not an upsettingly overpriced beverage like the ones he’s seen James drink on dozens of occasions. “I, uh—that’s really not necessary.”

“You must take it, James. Please. I said you’re not obligated to forgive me, I’m not trying to sway you, really. It just felt wrong to show up empty handed, after everything.”

“I understand, but, really—”

“You’re not on another one of your cleanses, are you? Giving up sugar or…calories before noon or something?” Francis ventures, imbuing his tone with more patience than he normally would, even though he still feels very little towards this thing in particular.

James is already so annoyingly healthy and brisk and handsome, it does take extraordinary amounts of patience to tolerate his talk of intermittent fasting and green juice with the goal of making himself even more annoyingly perfect. Surely, there’s got to be a limit to that sort of thing, but Francis doesn’t know; he’s on the opposite end of the spectrum it seems, having to re-learn the fundamentals of barely looking after himself in middle age without the aid of alcohol. It’s pretty grim, if he’s being honest. It really is no wonder that James has been so consistently earning the gold medal spot in the competitive sport of getting on Francis’s nerves, with that in mind.

His intentional gentleness does seem to pay off in this case, though, since James smiles at him in only mild embarrassment. “Uh, no, I’m not. I just—you’re not obliged to—”

“I know, but—listen, James, I already committed my penance by having to say the phrase ‘dirty chai’ with a straight face to a college student with a lip piercing at eight in the morning, okay? The damage is done. You might as well enjoy the spoils of my humiliation.”

James’s smile widens at that, looking for all the world like he can’t really stop himself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that mental image might be worth more to me than the entirety of your apology.”

“No offense taken,” Francis says, finally succeeding in handing off the cup, slick with condensation by now, into James’s care. “I hope it will sustain you for a while yet.”

“Oh, it shall,” James says, placing the cup gingerly onto his desk.

“Right, well,” Francis replies, “that’s all, then. I’ll see you…later, I suppose.”

James nods. “We have a meeting set for Tuesday—tomorrow. It should be on your calendar. Thomas said he—”

“If Jopson says it’s there, it’s there.”

“Great,” James says, easily. “Until then.”

“Yes. ‘Til tomorrow.”

Mission completed, Francis turns once more towards the door and is only interrupted in leaving by the sound of James clearing his throat behind him. He pauses, and looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows in question when he meets James’s eye.

“It’s only—forgive me if this is the wrong thing to say, under the circumstances,” James offers, fidgeting with the edge of the notepad lying open on his desk, “but you do—that is, you look well, Francis.”

Francis doesn’t allow himself the liberty of moving even an inch, not to fiddle with his collar or brush back his hair or otherwise indicate he gives so much as one singular damn about his appearance. “Do I?” he asks, tone purposely vague, like James has just told him the weather forecast and it’s only interesting to him in theory, really.

“Yes, very well,” James says, putting his hand flat on the desk very deliberately, like it was giving him away before. At what, who knows, but he’s got it under control now. “This change, it suits you.”

“Well, thank you, I guess.”

James now looks at his computer screen, absently. The next words he says might be something he was reading off of there, if they were anything else. “You look good, is what I meant.”

“How—?” Francis pauses, feeling immense pressure to say this right, somehow. “Sorry, but how would that be the wrong thing to say?”

“I wouldn’t want you to think, well—” James interrupts himself by laughing, just a little and rather joylessly. “It’s not that you didn’t look good before.”

“Oh, right,” Francis says, even as those words continue to make no sense to him in that particular order coming from this particular person. “Wait, you’re saying—I did?”

James meets his eye again, finally, but only to give him the most impatient, long-suffering look in human history. “Is it too much to hope that one of the twelve steps involves learning to take a compliment?” he asks, sounding depleted by the effort. “Because it is one of your most exhausting qualities that you can’t do so without endless interrogation first.”

“And it’s got a lot of competition,” Francis replies, feeling himself smile and choosing to do nothing to stop it, “what with all my other exhausting qualities.”

“You’re really only proving my point here, you know.”

“Thank you, James,” Francis says, dutifully. “It’s very kind of you to say. Better?”

“Much,” James sighs. “You’re showing remarkable improvement already.”

Francis leaves him, then, because to stay any longer would just be exposing himself to further ridicule and he’d absolutely deserve it, what with the stupid smile he now can’t seem to get rid of.

[idontplaytrack]

Hard Times

Jos Cleary-Lopez x fem! reader

Warnings: MDNI, mature themes— angst, fluff, anxiety / panic attack mentions & some descriptions

In which Jos has recurring nightmares about the guy who burned himself alive (Episode 6)

(Pictures used are from Pinterest + Prime Video on Youtube)

Jos could see it, over and over the same image running through her mind. Jos thought she’d be over it, that she wouldn’t keep thinking about it. That damn moment that had somehow got burned into her brain. In the moment, she just froze in utter fear, and disbelief. Looking right at the guy who stood in the middle of the many, many reporters and torched himself. She was held by her Dad, but her eyes…she wished that she would’ve shut them.

She’d barely ate anything for dinner before excusing herself so she could retreat to her room. Worried, you followed after her. Her parents watched with concerned eyes. But neither of them dared to talk to her, knowing that she was not in a good mood and they didn’t want to push her— for the obvious reason.

You carefully closed her bedroom door, leaning against it. She walks to her window, looking out of it at nothing in particular. “Jos.”

“What?” She asked softly.

“What’s the matter?”

“Uh. I— it’s a lot, I don’t want to stress you out with it.”

You knew what happened, apart from the fact that it was all over the news, you were also informed about it the very day it happened by Margot. To make matters worse, people at school kept bringing it up, teasing her, making jokes about it. So you get it, as hard as she’s been trying to work on it and move forward, the people around her are no help. Including Matty, her ass of a brother, UrbanDox worshipper.

“I hear you, it’s okay. You can talk to me about it.”

“I don’t— y/n, the thing is…I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t think I have to. You already know what went down, and all I want is for it to go away. I don’t want to have that vivid image in my head, but that seems impossible no matter what I do. I saw a therapist for it, and for what? Matty brings it up every chance he has, watching fucking UrbanDox still, knowing the hell that I’ve been through— that you’ve been through since getting the EOD. It’s not fair that we— that we don’t get normal lives, that we can’t have normal lives. My Mom’s…amazing, her job is important. I get why she does what she does, heck I get why my Dad does what he does. I don’t get why Matty just doesn’t get it…it’s like he’s brainwashed into all of that crap. My own brother contributing to my issues!”

You just listened, fighting the urge to pull her into a hug. “I cannot stand the way he treats you, the way he talks to you. It makes me want to strangle him, y/n.”

Tears pricked at your eyes hearing her ramble on and on about how she was feeling. You know things were different now, but this simply was a whole other level of things that needed getting used to. This new normal was more than what either of you had been thrust into. The EOD was a relief, a necessity in fact. But the whole…man burning alive in front of the Cleary-Lopez family thing? Fucked up. Trauma. A full-on nightmare. Even just hearing about it made your skin crawl.

“Can I hug you?” You asked, taking in a deep breath. She didn’t even go for the hug, what she did…was that she immediately laid on your chest for snuggles. Either way, you went with it. “Will you take me to my appointment tomorrow?” She asks.

“Of course, love.” You agreed, “I’ll drive you. Then we’ll go out lunch tomorrow afterwards at the place you like.”

She sniffles, nodding, “Thanks.”

“Think you can get some sleep?” You asked dreadfully, “Or would you want to take the sleeping pill?”

“I dunno.” She exhales, “I don’t want to rely on it.”

“Okay.”

“Could you just…stay with me?”

“Whatever you want.” You rubbed her back, kissing her on the head, “I’ll be right here.”

For the last three nights, Jos has barely gotten any sleep. She keeps getting scared awake by the same nightmare, you’ve been with her through all three nights. Seeing her shaking and sobbing, having trouble even breathing shattered your damn heart into a gazillion pieces. As much as you wished that you could take it all away from her, you knew the harsh truth was that you couldn’t. Nobody could.

The girl couldn’t even cry anymore. It was as if she had no tears left after those long, hard nights of being forced to stay awake. Her broken up sleep never lasted longer than an hour or so each time. This resulted in you having the same sleep schedule this weekend, It absolutely worried her parents, so much so that Margot allowed you both to take a sleeping pill just so that you two could sleep peacefully for a night. You didn’t take one last night. Jos did, but at four in the morning, like clockwork, she jolted up in bed, in tears and hyperventilating. Poor Izzy was worried, too. But she couldn’t do anything, she was just a little girl. Jos’ heart hurt seeing her so confused and sad. But she just…couldn’t do anything. Between having to survive and making sure she kept her grades up, she hasn’t been feeling like herself at all.

————

“I can’t fall asleep.” She mumbles, breaking the silence.

“Sure you can.” You gave her shoulder a squeeze, “You’re safe here, baby. I’m not gonna leave. Just try, close your eyes.”

“I close my eyes and it’s right there.” She reveals, licking her dry lips.

You let out a little sigh, “It’s still pretty early, how do you feel about a walk?”

“Sure.” She answers, shifting a little but not quite wanting to get up away from you. “Who’s gonna stop us, anyway? We have The Power.”

You both grabbed your phones and headed back downstairs. Izzy was watching TV with Margot, Rob was washing the dishes…and thank god, Matty wasn’t around.

“Mom, Dad, we’re gonna go for a walk if that’s okay.”

“Jos!” Margot gasped, “O-of course, yeah. That’s okay, honey. We have some leftovers from dinner so if you two want any after you get back, please help yourselves to them.”

“Okay.” Jos shrugs, “See you.”

There were two parks near Jos’, but she liked one of them more so that’s the one you guys were headed towards. Once there, she led you to a bench, holding both your hands in her own. The streetlight shone down on her, the gloss reflected thanks to her teary eyes from crying earlier.

“y/n, I just want to say thank you.” Jos began, “Life has gotten so different, so quickly. So much has gone down in this last few months that we can barely wrap our heads around all of it. I’m so glad, I’m so lucky to have you. You’re the only one thing — one person that feels familiar to me. Feel the same, like nothing’s changed. When I’m with you I can just be myself, and that’s been incredibly hard to do right now. I have not being saying this enough, so again, thank you. I love you so much, please don’t keep things to yourself. You can talk to me, too, it’s not your job to just listen to me. I know you’re worried, but I’m working on it, it’ll be a tough fight. But I promise you, I am working on it. We’ll be alright. We’ve got each other, and we’ve got The Power.”

You smiled, blinking profusely to keep the tears from flowing. “Things have been crazy. And— seeing you so affected by the action of that fucked up man, I’m furious. But we can’t change what’s already happened, we can’t control what we can’t control. And…you’re right. We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay…I’ve got you, and you’ve got me. We’ll get through all of this, we’ll get through life together.”

Following that, you and Jos sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the chilly nighttime breeze, the quiet, each other’s company. The calmest she’s been…the calmest you’ve ever felt all week. You’ve both been forced by circumstances to come to terms with the fact that some days will simply be terribly hard, while other days will be hard but not so bad. Days where you had not a care in the world were rare nowadays, amidst all the chaos that was the a big part of the world gaining new organs, you have learnt to deeply cherish the little moments of love and joy in mundane things.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about?” Jos asks quietly, hand reaching over to find yours.

You looked at her, and she continues, “Being awake so much gave me a lot of time on my hands. So I actually planned a little getaway for us. For our anniversary in a couple weeks.”

“Oh.” A smile tugs at your lips.

“We’ve been through so much together, y/n. It’s crazy to think about it all.” She chuckles slightly, “Four years. Coming up to five…look at everything that’s going on. But hey, we’re still here and living life. We have so much we can do, now that we have this new freedom. We’ve got a long life of adventures ahead of us, babe.”

🏷️ Tag list

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

💭A/N

I swear once I think of something I just keep writing and writing. Like, nothing can stop me once I get the inspiration. Also, I just rewatched The Power and it’s reignited my obsession w Jos tyvm. She’s SO CUTE😭🫶🏼🫶🏼

[babyfairy]

hello…life updates lol

i saw the little mermaid with my mom and my niece (we went on my mom’s birthday 💌) and i loved it??!? i think halle was the perfect choice for ariel!! i was so enchanted by her mannerisms the entire film. she’s got such an otherworldly beauty so paired with her voice she REALLY looks and feels like a disney princess…loved her so much. no comment on awkwafina’s unfortunate addition to the film

we’re restarting one of our long running dnd campaigns and i’m pretty sad about it ❤️‍🩹 it’s the best choice because the setting was made by our DM a long time ago and she wants a reset because she’s improved her narration/lore/etc since its creation but it’s still sad and hard to let go. i’m really excited to relive some of my favorite moments with some new twists and i have a deeper understanding of my character now so i think i’ll only end up loving her more as i replay her. dnd with my friends is truly one of my favorite hobbies and it’s so important to me! there have been so many changes throughout the years i’ve played but i’m so glad to still be playing despite it because it’s very fun and therapeutic lol

i got a raise at work 🫨 not that it makes much of a difference LMFAO but i was seriously considering leaving my job before my raise so it’s nice to be making a little more money. the cost of living in washington is so insane that i feel really unsure of my future lol but it’s seriously my dream to own my own house. just a little one story house that i can call my own. i know it seems like a small dream lol but it’s literally my number one motivation and i’m always daydreaming about how i’d decorate my own home inside and out!!

i finally bought tears of the kingdom and i’ve been obsessed with it!!! not surprised because i loved breath of the wild lol. i love link so much he’s such a cool protagonist. always wanted to be like him when i was a kid LMAOO either him or sheik! i would say i’m more like a deku scrub…💀 like look at this fella…

like….???!!!! THATS ME…the lil angry face. love these guys. anyways i love the game LMAO i hit about 50 hours and realized i should maybe try tackling my first dungeon 💀 it’s just so much fun to run around and collect ingredients and koroks…plus i have a little pack of zelda amiibo cards so every day i hop on and scan them all so i can open treasure chests as a little treat…love it!!! i can’t wait to see king sidon again btw. that’s the light of my life

ever since my OCD diagnosis i’ve been avoiding my therapist (L) and struggling to really understand why but i think it’s because i feel guilty about being diagnosed LMAO…i have like this weird fixation on unknowingly manipulating/lying to others and my brain keeps trying to convince me i manipulated her into a diagnosis. i don’t feel like i have “real” OCD if that makes sense. and i feel this weird sense of guilt about making light of it or like taking resources from people with real, severe OCD. it’s frustrating because i know that’s definitely a symptom of OCD but i also feel like none of my symptoms are legitimate and they’re just delusions. it’s incessant. which like logically is that probably just a symptom of the OCD? yeah but i also am having trouble admitting that to myself for some reason lol. at least not without guilt or shame attached and i really try to avoid feeling that way if i can. anyways it’s a real pain in the ass and i finally sucked it up and made an appointment for tomorrow so i can try to talk through some of this with her

i’m up and down a lot, it’s been the worst year of my life i think lol but somehow i’m still chugging along 💀 every day i put the rainbow clown wig back on and march thru my day despite it all though so it’s whatever i guess. definitely going thru my saturn return and ngl so far it sucks and i definitely hate it but you know! my 20s have been Not Great so maybe my 30s will be better for it. hope everyone is doing well and staying safe. let me know what you’re up to in my inbox if you want! i always like when people message me their life updates lol. it’s sweet when people think of me as someone they want to update ❣️