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yslkook · 3 years

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WRONG (3)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: you find yourself at the tattoo parlor more often as of late. also, jungkook hates lemon jelly filled donuts and is easily bribed by mint chocolate and macarons. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: cursing, excessive use of pet names, kinda toxic friendship

Sora’s unbridled passion for why she believes Jungkook is wrong for you has never irritated you as much as it does in this moment. You’ll never understand why she’s so adamant about the topic, when it’s not her decision. When she knows that you’ve been harboring a small crush on the man for years now, and you’re fairly certain he returns your affections.

When the man told you that he had put an orange heart next to your name, you knew it was real.

You don’t understand why Sora is determined to make things so complicated, when they don’t have to be. You don’t believe her claims that he’s a fuckboy, that he treats people like trash. He’s shown you the opposite. He’s so gentle with everyone, not just you. He’s blunt but he has a big heart under all of the leather and layers of black.

If there’s a word to describe him, it’s dreamy.

Which is why you’re so hurt that Sora refuses to give him a chance. After all, if she was your best friend, shouldn’t she offer him a chance for your sake?

It confuses you.

“I’ve heard so many bad things about him,” Sora says knowingly, swirling her glass of wine in her hands. You don’t feel very much like drinking, not when your stomach swirls in unease. Being in her apartment is nothing new, but right now, you’d rather be anywhere else.

“But what things? And from who? Jungkook is such a genuine guy and he hasn’t done anything for people to start rumors about him,” You protest, but your words fall on deaf ears, “And I like him-”

“I mean come on, have you seen him? The man radiates bad vibes. My friends have all said-”

“Bad vibes? You’re dismissing him because of bad vibes when I’m telling you that-”

“I’m your best friend, don’t you think I know these things?” Sora says, heat and arrogance in her voice, “I’m only looking out for you. It’s shitty that you’re dismissing me for a guy-”

“I’m not dismissing you-” But your voice grows smaller and smaller, something that you think Jungkook might be disappointed in you for.

“It sure as hell sounds like you are,” Sora sneers with a cold sort of tilt to her lips, “Listen. I’m just looking out for you, even if you don’t seem to appreciate it. I thought we were best friends. Friends look out for each other, but if you don’t want to listen to me, that’s on you.”

Something dry settles in your throat and something heavy settles in your chest.

“He’s not good news,” Sora continues, as if she can’t see your heart beginning to ache, “I’ll find someone who will treat you much better, don’t worry.” She pats your knee in a way that is supposed to be reassuring but you wince.

You don’t want her favors, but it’s too late for you to protest. Besides if you did, she’d feel awful and you never want to be the cause of her being upset. She’s your best friend after all. And what kind of friend would you be, if you upset her to that degree?

But still... you don’t want anyone else. You want the sensitive man who gets misty-eyed by powerful renditions of Beyonce songs, the man who texts you until you fall asleep, the man who asks you what color to paint his nails when he feels like it.

You kind of want the sensitive man dressed in layers of black.

You let Sora talk your ear off about all of the guys she has in mind for you, but you stop listening. You don’t understand this vendetta she has against Jungkook, the vendetta that she’s always had. But she is correct about one thing- she is your best friend and has your best interests at heart...right?

The four walls of the tattoo parlor that you’ve begun frequenting more and more often begins to feel more and more like a welcome place in recent days. You’ve always been friendly with the guys, especially Yoongi and Hoseok.

Even if Yoongi doesn’t work at the parlor, he’s here frequently enough.

Though Yoongi and Hoseok are some of your oldest friends, you’ve only come to the parlor a handful of times in the past. Once that realization hit you, you’d made it a point to stop by more often.

Why hadn’t you before?

They’re your oldest friends, but these days, you feel closer to Mina and Mei as well. While you do have other girlfriends who you see as often as your collective schedules align, it’s still different.

But still. You don’t know if you’ve ever truly belonged with anyone. You feel as if you’ve been floating through life, with Sora by your side (at least half the time, when she’s not spewing criticism over the man you have feelings for).

Thinking about it gives you a headache and makes you feel nostalgic for something that you never had. But maybe it’s something you can have.

“Hey, you,” Mei calls from reception, where she’s sitting next to Hobi who waves at you, “What brings you here? Finally gonna let me pierce you?”

“I brought donuts,” You shrug, “And I’m not ready for that surgical instrument to touch me, thanks very much.”

“You can stop by without the pretense of bringing sweet treats over,” Hobi says knowingly, “I mean none of us will complain about donuts, but you know that right? You can come by anytime you want.”

“O-okay,” You nod, your throat feeling a little dry.

“Now, come here and let me see what you got. If there’s a lemon jelly filled donut, save that for Jungkook. He hates them.”

“You got plans this evening?” Mei asks, grabbing her bright red purse that’s nearly the size of your head. Her purse matches her bright red nails and for half a second, you’re mesmerized by the glossiness of her nails.

“No, other than getting ready for tomorrow’s day of work-”

“Great! Wanna come with me to the tattoo supply store? I have to pick up more needles, grips and gloves.”

“Sure,” You shrug, a little excited at the prospect of a quick adventure for Mei, “I’ll just say bye to Hobi.”

He’s already watching you with mirth in his eyes, as if he knows what you’re about to say. “Hey, will you tell Jungkook I said hi?” You murmur, feeling your ears burning at his smug grin.

“Sure, I will,” Hobi grins, “I’m sure he feels bad about not being able to say hi to you himself. He’s had a busy day.”

“Understandable,” You nod, “I mean, you guys say he’s the best in the city, right? I’m sure he’s got a waitlist of people who want to be tatted by him.”

“Maybe someday he’ll tattoo you, huh?” He says mischievously to which you roll your eyes and feel your face heat up.

“He would be so lucky,” You scoff, as if the notion of Jungkook tattooing your body doesn’t make something flutter in your belly.

“We have this competition at the parlor where the person who makes the most tips has to buy the supplies on a monthly basis,” Mei says smugly, “Usually, it’s Kook but for the last few months it’s been me.”

That doesn’t surprise you in the least- Hobi has told you that Mei and Mina are both skilled in realistic and watercolor tattoos, as well as piercings. You think if you were ever to receive a tattoo from either Mei or Mina, you would tip them for the mere fact of them being so close in your presence for so long.

They used to intimidate you, when Hobi had first introduced you to them. Mina with her sleek bob haircut, and Mei with her long, glossy waves. Both of them had nose piercings and their ears were dotted in different hoops and rods. You’d only caught a glimpse of their tattoos a handful of times- Mei has a full sleeve on her right arm where Mina’s tattoos seem to be more hidden.

They’re just so cool and funny and smart.

“How did you all get the idea for the tattoo parlor? Like, was it a business decision or were you all friends before?” You ask curiously.

“Well… Jin, Mina and I have been friends since we were kids, our parents are really close. Jin had this dream of opening his own tattoo and piercing parlor for the longest time. Jungkook and Hobi joined a few months after we officially opened. It took a while, but we’re where we are now,” Mei says fondly.

“That’s incredible! You guys started from the ground up,” You say, in awe, “That parlor is your baby.”

“Fuck, yeah it is,” Mei grins, “What about you? What cool tech stuff is going on in that pretty brain of yours?”

“Um…” Your face heats up at the compliment, “I’m currently helping in developing this app for one of our clients, it’s specific for tracking and trending information related to chronic health conditions. It’s still in its infancy, but it’s been fun! And it’s job security, I guess.”

Mei lets out a low whistle, “Wow, you’re doing something like that by yourself?”

“No, I have a pretty great team,” You shrug, “Something like that definitely can’t be done alone.”

Mei hums, “You’re gonna be great, Ms. CEO.”

“Yeah right, I’d never want that burden,” You scoff, “I’m good right where I am.”

With both of your arms full of bags of supplies for the tattoo parlor (and some extras), you both walk out of the shop and towards Mei’s sleek, black car. It’s late, and you don’t really feel much like taking public transportation. But you’re nervous to ask Mei for a ride home for some reason.

“Hey, did you drive to the parlor?” Mei asks.

“N-no, I don’t have a car yet,” You reply, “I only just bought my condo and didn’t want to make another big purchase just yet. I want to start looking though…”

“Oh! I’ll drive you home then,” Mei offers once she starts the engine.

“Are you sure? It’s kind of out of the way from here,” You reply, folding in on yourself a little in the passenger seat.

Mei only waves you off. “Oh, please. What kind of friend would I be if I just left you to get home alone?”

You bite your tongue, as vivid memories of Sora claiming that she didn’t have enough gas in the tank or her asking for gas money for the ten minute drive from her apartment building to your condo flash in your mind.

“Thank you, Mei,” You say gratefully, “Let me know how much to Venmo you, for gas money-”

“Gas money? For a seven minute drive? Is that a joke,” Mei gasps, “What do you take me for?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry I asked!”

“Asking me for gas money,” Mei mutters, “You said you want to start looking for a car?”

Her smile twists into something mischievous.

“Yeah, I have no idea where to start though…”

“Ask your boy, Jungkook. Taehyung, Namjoon and Jimin work at a car dealership and they’re his roommates, I’m sure he’d be eager to help you.” Something in her voice is coy but you maintain a neutral face.

“Yeah… maybe I will,” You say thoughtfully, “Hey! He’s not my boy-”

“Alright, alright,” Mei relents gently, “But really, reach out to him. He’ll help you. So that those boys don’t scam you like the sleazy car salesmen that they are.”

When you see Jungkook next at the tattoo parlor which is conveniently on your way home from work (again with a box of pastries), you muster the courage to step into his office to ask him for help.

“Hi,” You say weakly, “Umm… I come bearing gifts. Got some of those mint chocolate brownie bars that you like, and those macarons-”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to bribe me, baby,” Jungkook says, smirking widely when your lips part in protest.

“If I was trying to bribe you, it wouldn’t be with mint chocolate. Disgusting,” You roll your eyes and squeal out loud when he lunges for you, giving you a teasing but tight back hug.

“Take it back,” Jungkook murmurs lowly in your ear. You hardly hear him, too wrapped up in the warmth of the big black hoodie he’s wearing. The soft, gentle scent of laundry and vanilla floats into your nose when you turn your head to press your cheek against his chest.

His heartbeat is faint against your ear. You wonder if he can hear yours speeding up.

“Mint chocolate sucks. It’s a fact,” You mumble.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” His voice comes as a low grumble from his chest and you swallow nervously. Before your nerves can get the best of you, he changes the topic. “Mei told me you’re in the market for a new car?”

“I don’t really know where to start, but I’ve already started doing some research,” You reply, pointing to your small backpack. You pull out a binder with meticulously colored tabs labeled in neat print that Jungkook raises an eyebrow at.

“What?”

“You just carry around a binder with your research on car purchases at all times? Is that what you do?”

“I have to be prepared!”

“Sometimes you just need a vibe check-”

“You want me to purchase an entire vehicle worth about a million and one paychecks based on just a vibe check? Is that what you did with your motorcycle?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook gives you a crooked smile, “And a little research. I guess.”

“You guess,” You mutter under your breath.

Jungkook has been more touchy with you once you had given him the go ahead all those weeks ago. He doesn’t show his affections with you unless you’re both alone, and it’s never anything more than hugs and the occasional brush of hands.

He’s melting you from the outside in, and you bask in his radiant heat. The thought of Sora’s approval doesn’t bother you, not when he hugs you like this.

But as always. Her disapproving voice worms its way into your head and you reluctantly peel away from him to sit on the faded burgundy couch with the box of macarons on your lap.

“So,” Jungkook says, immediately feeling the loss of your warmth in his limbs, “How can I help?”

tags: @kookdbean

MoM tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x you

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donald4spiderman · 3 years

Text

The City

masterlist

Summary: Reader is thinking about moving to California. Spencer’s determined to get her to stay.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff (angst if you squint)

**Inspired by Ben’s poetic confession in Parks and Recreations, S3E14**

Here’s a draft i forgot to post

**not edited yet**

Spencer’s POV

As a profiler, I’ve mastered the observation and analysis of behavior— we all have.

Picking the minds of serial killers is second nature— so why is it so hard for me to figure out why (Y/N) is behaving so strangely?

In the recent months, her witty and charming energy has dwindled into a lethargic imitation. Whether she’d admit it or not— (Y/N) can be extremely enthusiastic about certain things— especially our job.

So, when I watch her drag her feet, inch by inch, into the BAU each morning, It’s hard to contain my concern.

I know Morgan has noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too. They’re probably just too scared to say anything. (Y/N) doesn’t enjoy people prying into her private life, so we all stay a comfortable distance away.

I watch her a lot... more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to be unaware of her nervous behaviors— the nail biting, hair twisting, skin picking— I practically have enough data to make a correlation graph. I can tell when she’s upset, and it’s happening more than usual.

(Y/N) has always been kind to me. Even when I was at the peak of my stammering, slicked-back hair phase, she treated me with more respect than I deserved. I can only imagine how awkward I must’ve been (or, still am), and I thank her for not belittling me.

I guess I’m validating the Benjamin Franklin Effect when I say this— but I feel like I owe it to her to ask what’s wrong. Over the years I’ve built up (arguably) the closest friendship with her, so it only makes sense for me to bite the bullet for the team.

It’s partially due to the fact that I’ve developed a slight (if not major) crush over time, but who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted women is kryptonite for any person. Our conversations are always stimulating, she gives the best advice, and she’s always there to comfort a team member.

So, it pains me to see her struggle through a paperwork day. I wish she would reach out to anyone for help, but it’s not in her nature.

“H-Hi.” I smile as I approach her desk. Her tired eyes look up at me, and she smiles back.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?

I rub the back of my neck nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Morgan and Emily watching me struggle to form a sentence. They giggle as they watch.

“I-I was... um. D-do you want to get coffee with m-me? Not now! I mean— after work!” Morgan stumbles out of the bullpen, barely containing his laugh. I must sound pathetic.

(Y/N) nods hesitantly, “S-sure. I don’t know why you want to get coffee with me, but I’m free.”

“Really?” My surprise shocks her. “T-that’s gr-great! I can drive you!”

She chuckled, “I think I’d rather drive us. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive a mile without hitting a curb.”

I nod fervently. “Sounds good.”

As I make my way back to my desk, I send a glare in Emily’s direction as she continues to smirk at me.

(Y/N) grabs an empty table in the café, and we sit down, huddling close to our warm drinks. She orders a cinnamon latte, I order a black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

I place the drinks down. “Did you know that cinnamon is shown to reduce systolic blood pressure. It’s commonly used in South Asia and works by dilating blood vessel.”

She nods, “Surprisingly, I did know that. You’re gonna have to teach me something else, Doc.” I laugh in response, enjoying the relaxation that radiates off of her.

“I feel like we don’t get to, um, t-talk as much as I would like to.” My words get caught in my throat and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the most leisurely job.” She states, sipping her drink.

I bite my lip, she looks down. I convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, because there’s no way (Y/N) would glance down to watch me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I know... but you used to talk more.”

“I’ve been busy lately. Tired too.” She mumbles.

I mean forward slightly, my voice is a hushed whisper. “A-are you... okay?” I’m anticipating an defensive response, but all she does is sigh.

“I’m alright. I just... I’m getting tired of being here— in D.C.”

My eyes widen and my brows knit together. “W-What! Why?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I don’t know. I just expected to feel... really, really attached to D.C when I first moved here. I love my job, and I love you guys— but nothing’s keeping me here.”

My face drops. My disappointment is adamant because she scrambles to reassure me.

“It’s not that I don’t absolutely love working with you guys. You’re my best friend, Spencer. But... I came to D.C to... I don’t know... settle down.” It comes out as more of a question rather a statement. “It’s sounds weird, right? Me, settling down?” She laughs. “I-I don’t mean a husband and a family necessarily. I moved here because I wanted to belong somewhere.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“I feel... I feel like everything I have right now is temporary. It’s not the feeling I expected to have. I just want to have something permanent in my life for once.”

I remain silent, lacking the proper response.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

I smile solemnly, “I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, I make another promise. Not just to (Y/N), but to myself. I’m going to show her how many things she has here for her in D.C.

I’m going to prove how much I believe she belongs.

I started by bringing her coffee each morning— a cinnamon latte from the same café we went to.

The first time she seemed pleasantly surprised. I sped through the doors of the bullpen, my coat and slacks absolutely soaked due to the rainy D.C weather. She giggled at the sight of my hair plastered to my forehead. I was certain that I looked like a wet dog.

“Morning!” I greeted, placing down both cups of coffee on her desk so I could fix my hair. “I-uh-I got you coffee. A cinnamon latte, of course.”

(Y/N) smiles brightly, “You’re the best. Thanks, Reid. I definitely needed this.”

Hotch and Rossi are watching me curiously, pretending not to look up from their files. At this moment, I could care less.

“It’s n-nothing.” Suddenly I’m blushing furiously under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks, again.” She clears her throat, “Y-you’re a really good friend.”

She smiles. And I smile.

In the next three weeks, (Y/N) and I grow closer at a rate faster then ever. I try to do something small for her everyday. Finishing up a file for her; Bringing her coffee or water; Sitting next to her on the jet. It appears to be working— she looks much more relaxed and happy. Her sarcastic humor is back and she engages more with the team.

We’ve decided to hang out after today. I find myself enjoying every minute with her, even if all we do is talk, eat, and walk around aimlessly. I’m sure she’s tired of me, but my infatuation with her only grows.

Tonight, we’re sitting at the park, watching people on their late night jogs, dog walkers, babysitters. We finished eating Indian food at a local restaurant. Turns out we’re both regulars at the same place, it’s a shame we haven’t run into each other.

She’s sitting criss-cross on the bench, her elbow rested on top of her knee. “You know,” She starts, “D.C is pretty great. I don’t think I’ve felt this... content in a while.”

I smile, even if it’s too dark for her to see. “Th-thanks. D.C is a great place, despite averaging 39 inches of rain annually.”

She means her head back against the bench. “I still don’t know. I feel like I’m just waiting for something. I don’t even know what that something is... a sign maybe?”

“A sign?” I laugh.

“Y-yeah... a sign. I’d usually make a pros and cons list and research the differences between the two places but... this decision feels too personal to look at it as just statistics.”

In this very moment, I decide to toss all my concerns, questions, what if’s, into the wind. This is my final move; my last resort; my Hail Mary.

My hands are trembling, and it takes me seconds to force the words out of my throat.

“W-well, besides the higher cost of living and considerably gloomy weather, D.C can be a p-pretty great place to reside. It has a busy political culture and is one of the most diverse states in the country.” I pause for a little longer than necessary.

“But, besides statistics and facts, if w-we look past objectivity, to me: D.C is where my friends are, and my friends are my family. Um... I like The City because it’s home to so many great people. A-and I know it’s hard to see the good in things considering how much violence we see on a daily basis, but certain people make me believe that things aren’t all that bad.”

(Y/N)‘a listening attentively, making me even more nervous than I thought possible. “D.C— The City— is beautiful. It’s charming. It’s a warm, cinnamon latte on a rainy day, o-or a late night walk in the park. To me, it’s home.” I catch her smirking a little bit, and I can only hope that she understands what I’m trying to say.

“Plus, The City is really good at her job. The City’s an excellent profiler. But, the city’s an even better friend, and an even better person. It doesn’t hurt that The City has great hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a perfect smile. And, she does this cute thing where she twists the ends of her hair, even if I keep telling her to stop. The City’s beautiful and definitely out of my league. She probably wants nothing to with me now, but I don’t care. I really like The City. And, even if she doesn’t like me back, she should stay, because there are so many people that like and love The City. ‘Cause who wouldn’t.”

(Y/N) is full on grinning right now, and it’s hard to stay patient when so much is on the line.

“Wow.” She giggles. “You really like The City.”

I chuckled awkwardly, “Y-yeah. I really do.”

“I mean, if you think The City’s so great, maybe I should stay. Plus, I’m sure The City likes you too.”

I feign confusion, “Really? I don’t know... The City can be kind of closed off sometimes.”

“Trust me— The City definitely likes you back. And I don’t think The City appreciates you saying that about her”

“Oh really?” I gasp. “Let’s ask her.”

I turn my head around, then proceed to look back at (Y/N) in the most dramatic fashion.

“Hey.” I laugh.

“Oh, Hi Dr. Reid!” She feigns surprise to match my frivolousness.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, b-but I really like you. And, a little birdy told me that you like me back.”

She laughs heartily, “Well, that little birdy is a pretty reliable source.”

Soon, her head is resting on my shoulder. My body’s stiff and the air is caught in my lungs, but I feel more content than I have in years. Somehow the weather is warmer, and the sun is brighter, and things just seem... better.

“This is a great city.” She mumbles, peering up at me in the most adorable fashion.

“Yeah,” I smile, “It really is.”

“Pawnee’s a really special town, I love living there. And, I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to hang out with the town, and talk to the town about stuff. The town has really nice blonde hair too. And, it’s read a shocking number of political biographies for a town, which I like.” - Ben Wyatt

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #dr reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #sub!spencer #bittersweet #criminal minds x reader #fluff #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader

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d-criss-news · 3 years

Link

The Glee star and Emmy winner for The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, Darren Criss, 34, will be releasing his first album of Christmas songs, titled A Very Darren Crissmas (October 8). It includes duets with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and an original song, “Drunk on Christmas,” featuring Lainey Wilson.

What was your goal with this Christmas album?

To reintroduce familiar songs in a new way. But I also wanted to take lesser-known songs and make those feel more familiar. And, most importantly, I wanted to take songs that people don’t associate with Christmas but I do—like Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”—and try to make them feel like Christmas songs.

What inspired you to write “Drunk on Christmas”?

It’s about the end of Christmas when everything’s been done. There’s wrapping on the floor, you’ve cleaned things, the in-laws have left and there’s nothing else to do. It’s two people having a sit-on-the couch moment, sipping a glass of cocoa with some SoCo [Southern Comfort] in it.

What is it about Christmas music? Why did you want to do the Christmas album?

Christmas or the holiday season is something that, whether we like it or not, we experience every year, and that comes with a litany of wonderful songs and music that again, whether you have been proactive about listening to it or not, it’s pretty hard to avoid. It’s permeated our cultural consciousness for our entire lives. So if you happen to be someone like me who consumes music at a hyperactive level, I’ve always adored Christmas music.

People say this because of the way that it makes them feel and the things that it reminds them of. There are so many layers to why people enjoy Christmas music. It’s nostalgic, it is very romantic, at least in the true dictionary meaning of the word romantic. And to me, I’ve always loved it for a much more anthropological reason, which is for one month or several weeks out of the year we suddenly subscribe to a certain sentiment that the other 11 we don’t really dial into. We want it all, then we want it to just go away.

What makes Christmas songs different?

As a musician I’ve always loved that Christmas music can employ certain musical elements that otherwise aren’t very popular. To me, it’s incredible that without a doubt the estates of many artists are guaranteed placement on the radio even though many of them have been deceased for many years. The pop charts are dominated by whatever contemporary, awesome artists there are nowadays, but in December you can guarantee that Burl Ives and Dean Martin will be on the radio with the best of them. I find that so charming. It’s because people really, really love this music.

And those songs don’t sound like the sounds that we’re hearing on the radio, sonically, harmonically, rhythmically. They employ a lot of “classic” sounds that evoke the feeling of Christmas. I’m a self-proclaimed genrephile—this is a term I use for myself throughout all the stuff that I do. I can’t help but be so enchanted by this idea that artists have license, and by license I mean an excuse to do things that you ordinarily wouldn’t be encouraged to do, or that audiences wouldn’t necessarily be as quick to absorb.

So, when you’re talking about classic Christmas writing, for lack of a better word, you use clichéd Christmas terminology, you use certain chords, and harmonies, and instrumentations that you just wouldn’t do throughout the year. It leans on the slightly more sophisticated, slightly more musical, and that is really exciting for someone like me.

How much does the fact that your last name is Criss play into this?

If you play music and your last name is Criss, every year someone says, “You know what you should do?” as if they’re the first person who’s ever thought of this idea. So I’ve always wanted to do this; it was just a matter of time. And I also didn’t want it to be phoned in, I didn’t want it to seem like, “Oh, here’s some songs that you know already.”

I wrote this in my liner notes that my favorite thing to do with art, but particularly music, is curate, interpolate, create and personalize. That’s my main thing. I’m an OK singer, I’m an OK musician, but what I really think I have a yen for is trying to interpolate something new that people didn’t know before.

If you think about a song like “Jingle Bells,” it was not written for Christmas. It was a song from 200-something years ago that bears no mention of Christmas whatsoever, but we associate it so heavily with Christmas. Lately I hear Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” come up on Christmas playlists. I think it must have something to do with the Christian angle of the song and the reverence of the word “hallelujah,” but there’s no mention of Christmas.

So there’s a lot of different things that can make people feel like Christmas if you arrange it a certain way, and that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted this cocktail of songs that people didn’t know and I might be able to introduce to them in a really new, interesting way.

You duet with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and Lainey Wilson. These people couldn’t be more different. How did you select your song partners for this?

Honestly, people are busy, so I leaned on friends of mine. The album is called A Very Darren Crissmas, and I wanted to make it just that. Songs that are very, very me, doing things that are very me, and using the talents of people who are legitimately in my life. Adam has been a pal for a long time. We’ve known each other from just adventures in Hollywood, but he, of course, was on Glee with me. Evan Rachel is a dear pal of mine; we’ve done some things together. She’s played my festival, and I’ve done comedy sketches with her and stuff. These are all extraordinarily talented singers. As I told them when I asked them to be a part of it, “I’d be very lucky to have you on this record.”

I had not met Lainey Wilson before I started this. But when you’re in Nashville, you are in the Olympic tent of USDA certified prime country singers. And that’s a bit of a blind spot for me as far as who’s on the up and up, who’s somebody that can really give a level of authenticity, legitimacy to a more classic ’50s Nashville sound, which is the song that I wrote called “Drunk on Christmas.” My producer Ron Fair, who has been living in Nashville for a while, suggested Lainey and we got on like a house on fire. She’s an extraordinary talent and I was happy to have her. These were all people that were part of this grassroots friend to friend thing. That’s how I got them and I’m very lucky that they’re on the record.

There are hundreds of Christmas songs. How did you choose what to include?

Choosing was extremely hard. I had a list of about 100 songs. I’m not done; this record is only phase one in my mind. There are so many songs that it will make your head spin. If you go, “Did you think about this song?” The answer is yes, and I absolutely had to deliberate which ones I had to triage out of the sequence.

I even said no to “The Christmas Song,” which is on the album. I didn’t want to do it because I was like, “Everybody knows it; it’s perfect by Nat King Cole,” and Mel Tormé [who wrote it] is one of my favorite artists of all time, much less songwriters and musicians. So I was like, “I don’t want to have to do that.” And on the day when we were there, we just had a guitar and said, “Let’s just do it for fun,” because I love singing that song. But I was like, “It’s been done perfectly too many times, I really don’t want to have to put myself up against that.” But we had a nice take, it’s live in the room. And hey, come on, it’s Christmas. So I left it on there.

If we were to come to your house during the holidays, what would you be listening to?

I’d probably sit you down and play you my favorite songs that you’ve never heard that I think are great Christmas songs. But what’s nice is I’ve now put those songs on this album, hopefully, in a perhaps delusional effort to standardize these songs in the Christmas pantheon. There has to be an air of delusion to being an artist in the first place. If one of these songs that no one’s ever heard before catches on with a family or a person and becomes part of their Christmas playlist every year, then I will have succeeded in my efforts.

What did the Emmy you won for The Assassination of Gianni Versace do for your career?

Although the Emmy has just my name on it, the number one thing that I’m most proud of is it’s more symbolic and representative of the work of the whole team. It is a validation and celebration of the really hard work of people that I spent a lot of time and energy with creating this role.

You have a couple voice roles coming up—in Trese and Yasuke—but what are we going to see you in next, not just hear you?

I don’t know. Let me know if there’s any opportunities. A huge reason for why this album was made was because I had the time. Making records takes a lot of time, and I’m envious of people who are just singers. I don’t know how people do that, that’s just not who I am. I’m a producer, I’m a writer, I’m a musician. It takes so much out of me to make a body of music because someone doesn’t say, “OK, here are the songs, show up on a Tuesday, you sing it and then you leave.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my favorite artists can do that and are blessed enough to be able to just do that. I can’t.

It takes so much time for me to really get in the weeds, arrange, edit vocals, edit instrumentation, mix tracks, really getting in the jungle of music production. I can’t function any other way and that takes an extraordinary amount of time. Even when there was a global pandemic, I still had deadlines that we could barely make to finish this album because that’s just how my brain works.

So I haven’t been able to act. I haven’t had an acting job in almost two years. That’s not entirely true. I’ve had little bit things during the pandemic, but no big series or films or anything like that. It’s just been mostly working from home and being as proactive as I can be. I started a weekly podcast with a friend of mine, I put out an EP. I’ve been extremely busy with high output and low visibility. I’m waiting for the next thing, but I’m not one to sit still. If you give me time, I’m going to fill all the spaces out. So I did that with music this past two years.

Are you going to go back to Broadway now that it’s opening again?

I don’t want to say anything that is not perhaps confirmed 100 percent, but I will say with full confidence that I have always had the intention of going back exactly where we started. I’ll let them announce what’s happening because every show is in its own unique holding pattern. But, yes, right before the shutdown I was doing American Buffalo in New York, and talk about the actor’s dream, that is right up there. Doing a great American play that I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve had a long history with that show, and I finally get to do it for real with two of my favorite actors—Sam Rockwell and Laurence Fishburne. They are two acting heroes of mine.

So I was in rehearsals for that. We were about to go into tech, and things got shut down. But we’re in a very fortunate position where you’ve got two huge movie stars, you have a very well-known play and you have a fixed set and just three guys. There are musicals that have orchestras, big choruses and huge set pieces, and the overhead and upkeep of these productions is quite complicated. And a lot of them, for that reason, fell by the wayside during the pandemic, and it’s an awful tragedy. But our set and our billboard and our posters are exactly where we left them. It’s kind of a trip. If you go to Circle in the Square, I keep telling people it’s the longest I’ve ever been on Broadway because it’s just sitting there dormant, waiting to be resurrected.

I think all of us are planning on going back. I think the show is scheduled to reopen almost to the day that it was supposed to open in 2020. We’ll see how the schedule ends up, but you have three guys whose heart and soul is the theater. I don’t want to speak for the other two guys, but I’m almost positive that all three of us would rather be doing that play on Broadway than anything else. So when I say I haven’t had an acting gig in two years, it’s been a comfort to know that that was waiting for me on the other end. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we’ll be able to do it. We’ll have to make sure that everything is hunky-dory with theater audiences, et cetera, et cetera, but that’s the idea.

How did Ryan Murphy casting you in Glee change your life?

I said during my Emmy speech that actors are only as good as the moments they get. I used to say actors are only as good as the parts they get. Take that with a huge grain of salt, obviously, it’s not entirely true. But in context of that moment, certainly you can understand what I meant. Acting is a proactive craft, but in many respects it’s a passive career, where you have to hope and wait for a benefactor, a patron, a supporter to say, “OK, all right, kid, you’re up. I think you can do it.”

I think any artist’s life is a constant compromise between knowing what you can do and what you want to do, and having other people, audiences and creative authorities alike, have an idea of what you can do. You have to have that balance of somewhere in the middle, where hopefully you can rise to an occasion that you know you can do, that somebody’s going to give you the opportunity to do. But you’re not in control of that relationship, and so you have to sit and hope and pray that someone is going to give you that moment and that opportunity. That was something that I’m fully indebted to with Ryan.

Because he did say, “All right, kid, you’re up,” and gave me that shot. We talked about the The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story series for years before we did it. I didn’t think he was ever going to do it. By the time we started shooting, he probably mentioned it to me three or four years prior. And I kept asking about it like, “Hey, you still want to do this thing?” I think he was just always obsessed with the fact that I was half Filipino and that I bore a certain resemblance to the guy. Age and everything, it seems pretty spot-on. But he was a man of his word, and he really did end up making it. So I’m incredibly indebted to him and I’ve always been very effusive about that.

Now that you have this modicum of fame, what would you like to use it to accomplish?

For me, there are so many things that I love in this world that I don’t think other people are familiar with. One of the things about having a modicum of a platform is hopefully embracing that to use it as a gateway drug for stuff that people might not be familiar with. I don’t know if they’re going to like it as much as I do, but I’m looking at this track list and there are songs that I guarantee that you don’t know.

These are all things where I go, “OK, I have this moment of people’s attention, hopefully, this is a fun way to have them have eyes on something that I think is deserving of eyes, and not because of me, but because of other people who have made something amazing.” And, hopefully, they have the same proactive curiosity that I had growing up where I look at the liner notes and see who wrote the songs and where they came from. But we’ll see. We’ll see if people have that reaction.

You’ve accomplished so much. What’s the dream going forward?

The dream is to keep doing me, really. I think all you can do is be as true to yourself and try and do as accessible and as valuable work as you can. And, hopefully, in so doing, represent people, giving them visibility and encouragement towards their own place in the cultural conversation.

#darren criss #parade magazine #a very darren crissmas #press #oct 2021

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elldell1204 · 4 years

Text

Hair Me Out - Spencer Reid x Reader

Y/N wears her hair in many different styles, and her boyfriend, Spencer, seems to appreciate each one in different ways.

A/N: So, I just wanted to add, I try to make my ‘reader’ as ambiguous as possible, that way you can identify with them more. However, I struggled with this one, as I am a white female with straight hair and not much knowledge of (though deep appreciation and love for) natural or curly hair, seeing as I have little to no experience. Therefore, I have tried making this as inclusive as possible but I’m sorry if at any point seems too specific and you can’t put yourself into the story. Feel free to call me out on anything you aren’t comfortable with!

Warnings: Slight sexual themes, swearing, normal Criminal minds stuff (let me know if I missed anything)

wc - 3,217

Dutch Braids -

You and Spencer had just gotten off from work about an hour ago after a gruelling day with an equally stressful case. Which is why as soon as you were both showered, dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find and waiting for the takeout to arrive, you were both sprawled out on the couch in front of a movie, having no energy left to talk, let alone move when there was a knock at the door. Seeing as you were the one with less of the other person’s body parts draped across you, you got up and answered while Spencer didn’t move an inch. You couldn’t blame him; the poor boy was exhausted.

Around twenty minutes later, you’d both eaten, leaving your plates on the coffee table in front of you with the mental promise to wash them later, and were back to snuggling into each other, getting as close as you possibly could to soothe each other after the day you had. Your head was tucked neatly into Spencer’s chest, your knees drawn up to near your chin in the foetal position, making yourself as small as possible. Spencer was the opposite; spread like a starfish with his arm around your back and his head rested against the back of the couch.

If someone were to ask you what the movie was about, you wouldn’t have a clue where to start. Truth is, you felt like you were stuck in-between both the lands of sleep and consciousness, due to wanting to spend some time with your boyfriend (despite him being your work partner for the best part of sixteen hours) but also wanting to sleep for three days. In attempt to make yourself just a little bit more awake, you started trying to focus on different things around you. First it was the quote on the front of the main character’s t-shirt, then it was the Metro you could faintly hear as the last train of the night rattled by, then it was Spencer’s finger tracing up and down one of your braids that you’d done quickly after your shower.

“Spence?” You murmured the first words spoken in practically an hour.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response, his half-lidded eyes shifting to your face that you had lifted to face him.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” His voice was merely a whisper, and if you weren’t listening for it, the only way you’d know he was speaking was from the vibration of his chest.

You gestured to your hair with your finger, and only when he realised did he stop what he was doing and chuckle lightly and dreamily.

“Oh, sorry, I’m not sure, it just feels soft, I guess. I’ll stop.”

“No, no, it’s okay, you can keep going.” You smiled at him, mustering up the energy to lean up and press a sweet kiss to his lips before retracting back to your previous position.

Ponytail -

To say you were having a bad day was an understatement. You usually like to try and stay as positive as you could be when chasing a serial, paedophilic murderer, but there’s only so many deep breaths and coffee breaks you can take before you really start to get pissed off. Not only had you been stuck in hot and sticky Texas for near a week, but you had also been put into single rooms at the hotel you were staying at. Now, not to sound ungrateful (because you very much are of the fact that you at least have a roof over your head), but only having one single bed to a room means that you can’t snuggle with Spencer after a long day, and these were proving to be very long days.

And to add to the problem, Hotch was constantly on edge since the start of the case, with the victims looking a hell of a lot like Jack, and when you were the closest person to him on that first day when his tensions finally boiled over, you had been the one in the firing line of his rage. Which you can take. You knew he didn’t mean it, and if he had to take his frustrations out on someone for a few days so he could do his job with a clearer head, you were happy to be the target.

But now after a particularly rough six days, your patience was wearing thin, and everyone on the team could see it, which is why they offered you and Spencer any jobs they were assigned that would get them out of the stifling police precinct. And you knew they had good intentions, but even that was starting to annoy you.

So now you were sat at the table in the conference room, a pen between your teeth as your eyes frantically search over the evidence you have piled in front of you, desperate for the answers to this case to fly off the page and hit you smack dab in the forehead so you could just go home and have a fight with a pillow or something, anything to destress.

You heard the footsteps coming from the doorway, but you refused to turn around. If it was Hotch, you swear to god you might actually lose your job with what you were thinking of doing if he was short with you one more time. If it was Morgan ready to hand you a first-class ticket to visit the slightly wrinkly and very smelly coroner again, you might actually flip the table.

“Hey, Y/N.” Spencer greeted you warmly, sitting on the table to your right as your eyes slowly lifted to meet his. No, not Spencer. Hold it together, Y/N, hold in your rage, he’s done nothing wrong. “Oh, I haven’t seen you with your hair tied back in a while. I like it.”

Such a sweet statement, and yet it broke you. You could see in his face the moment your eyes lit aflame with anger, and you couldn’t miss the harsh swallow he took to brace himself for your fury.

“Well, Dr Reid, let me teach you a lesson, shall I? 3 reasons. One, it is way more practical for kicking someone’s ass, and right now, I would love nothing more than catching the sleazy son-of-a-bitch who is deriving pleasure from this,” You gesture violently to the crime scene photos splayed out in front of you before continuing to spit your venom. “And beating the living shit out of him until he’s crying out for his mommy. Two, do you know how many officers have tried to flirt up a storm with me in the past week? Way too many to count on one fucking hand! One even went so far as to try stroking my hair like a goddamn cat, and so to avoid that situation, I have put it in a ponytail, because if anything of that nature happens again, I won’t hesitate to break someone’s arm. And three, I usually have it down because most men think you’re dumber when you play with your hair, or I can play seductive to get what I want without a warrant fifty percent of the time. But seeing as we have absolutely nobody on the suspect list right now, and the sheer fury I possess at this moment, I don’t foresee the possibility of me needing to be either of those things, do you?”

Your lungs were heaving once you were done, and poor Spencer looked like you just told him you were a Russian spy sent to kill him. Your eyes were locked onto each other’s, and when you came back to reality from your rant, you recognised the softness and love in his that you were grateful for every day. Granted, they were a little masked by fear right now, but you’d admired him often enough to be able to spot even the faintest hint of your favourite emotions.

You let out a deep sigh, signalling you were back to your normal self as much as you could be right then, before dropping your head into your hands to rub your eyes with the heel of your palms.

It was then you felt the unmistakeable warmth of Spencer’s hand rubbing soothing patterns on your back as you gathered yourself together, bringing tears to your eyes as you opened them once more to face him.

“Oh, Spencer,” You whispered, grabbing his hands tightly with yours, lifting them to your lips and pressing sweet kisses to his knuckles. “I’m so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

“It’s okay, my love.”

“No, it’s really not. I never should have raised my voice at you, especially when it’s not your fault at all that I’m frustrated.”

“Y/N, I understand.” He smiled at you, a small and sympathetic one, but it calmed you nonetheless as he stood, pulling you up from the chair to wrap his arms tightly around you. You gripped onto him like he might run away if you didn’t, breathing in the warm scent that is so unmistakeably Spencer. Your vision was now cloudy with the tears that so desperately wanted to spill, but you were adamant you wouldn’t give the local cops the satisfaction of seeing you with wet cheeks. Luckily, Spencer knows you better than anyone.

“There’s a park a few minutes’ walk from here with a small duck pond. Would you like some fresh air?”

You nodded frantically against his neck as you finally let go, allowing him to lead you out of the precinct, hand in hand, his thumb running softly over yours as you walked.

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled, leaning in closer to him as you carried on down the path.

“Nonsense,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “We deserve each other. Just remind me not to get on your bad side; I like having both of my arms functional.”

Bed Head -

A blaring alarm at 6am has to be up there with one of the most annoying things on the planet, and I work with Derek Morgan. You let out a groan, your arm floundering around to find the source of the wretched noise. Groaning in defeat of not being able to do it with your eyes closed, you cracked one open, locating your phone, and finding sweet relief in the snooze button. A very overexaggerated yawn left your lips as you attempted to stretch your arms over your head in an effort to wake up, only to find one immobilised in the grasp of your boyfriend.

You took advantage the rare opportunity of waking up before Mr Alarm Clock himself (also known as Dr Spencer Reid) by allowing yourself a few minutes to admire his form in the golden sliver of sunlight escaping the outside world through the gap in the curtains. It was only when your alarm went off again after the five-minute snooze timer did you try to wake him up.

“Spence, baby, time to wake up.” You whisper, attempting to gently coax him from his slumber. When that didn’t work, you laced your fingers through his mousy-brown curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, just how he likes. Only then did you receive a response in the form of a muffled groan into his pillow.

“C’mon, my love. We need to get ready for work.” You spoke softly, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.

You chuckled lightly, wrapping your arms around his torso as your legs entwined. “Okay, my sleepy darling. But only five.”

“Mmm, five more minutes.” He mumbled, nestling his face into your hair as he pulls you closer than you thought possible.

Safe to say you took breakfast to go, just so you could bask in each other’s embraced for a little longer than five minutes.

Post-Sex Hair -

You climbed from his lap gently, unsure if your legs could hold yourself up as you panted heavily. Practically throwing yourself down beside Spencer on the bed, he took the opportunity to grab your hand, lacing your fingers with his as you laid your head on his chest. You were both still a little dreamlike in your post-orgasmic haze, and when Spencer began to press kiss after kiss into your hair, you didn’t hesitate to enjoy them.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered into your hair, punctuating his statement with a final kiss for good measure.

You looked up from your position, shifting slightly so you were face to face, and scrunched up your nose. “Really? Even with sweaty sex hair?”

He chuckled, and you followed with a giggle of your own as he leant over to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. “Especially with sweaty sex hair.” He whispered with a joking edge to his voice, his lips brushing with yours.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the team wouldn’t love my sweaty sex hair, so I better hop in the shower.” You smiled, kissing him quickly once more before climbing out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom, a sway to your hips.

As you reached the door, you turned to shoot a smirk over your shoulder at the blissed-out boy behind you. “Oh, are you not joining me?”

You swear you’d never seen the boy move as fast as when he clambered from the bed and chased you into the bathroom.

Straightened -

There was something about going undercover that equally excited you and creeped you out. Especially tonight, when you were having to go under in a club to catch a guy who was killing adulterous wives. You were the closest person in the team to his type, so it was a no-brainer to choose you, really. Didn’t mean you were happy with it, and it seemed that Spencer wasn’t either, if his clenched jaw was anything to go by.

Well, you were going to do it no matter what, so why not get yourself dressed up and try to bring some joy back to a less than ideal situation? That is why you were stood in the locker room of a precinct on the west coast in a red crushed velvet minidress with black heels, a fake wedding ring and straightened hair, and you couldn’t lie, you were totally feeling yourself.

“Woah, Y/N, you look…amazing.” You heard Spencer say as he entered the room.

You turned your head and smiled at him, feeling a little flustered as his eyes trailed over your form. You attempted to push your dress further down your thighs as he walked to you, his hands encircling your waist from behind and his head perched on your shoulder.

“It’s not too much is it?” You mumbled, looking down at yourself to do a final once over.

You felt his fingers under your chin, lifting your head to look him in the eyes through the mirror, ones filled with love and a hint of desire that set your skin aflame. He brushed your hair aside from your neck to trail kisses down the side of your throat, eliciting a breathy sigh from your lips.

“No, Y/N, you look badass.”

You giggled at the word that seemed so foreign coming from Spencer, but that was soon muffled when he spun you around by his hands on your hips and his lips hungrily met yours. Your lips moved against each other’s, his tongue coming to swipe at your bottom lip in a request for entrance. You granted it, and soon you felt your back collide with the cool metal of the lockers. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt as you explored his mouth with your tongue, relishing in the taste of him. You laced a hand up into his hair as you felt a hand that he had at your waist moving to your ass, gripping it roughly, causing you to moan into his mouth.

“Reid? Y/L/N? You two lovebirds ready?” You heard Morgan mock from the doorway and you both immediately jumped apart like some sort of invisible wall had shot up between you.

Looking around to see that Morgan wasn’t in your eyeline, given that the lockers luckily blocked you two from his view. But not from earshot, seeing as you could quite clearly hear his hearty chuckles as his footsteps got quieter and quieter.

You looked up at Spencer, his hair dishevelled and his tie askew, a look of both embarrassment and amusement at being caught making out like two horny teenagers adorned his face. A grin broke out on your lips, which he mirrored, and soon you were both laughing hysterically as you sorted yourselves out in the tiny little mirror on the wall, attempting to make it look like you weren’t a few seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off, before re-joining the team in the conference room.

Messy Bun -

Ugh, cold and flu season. You swear you never make it through it unscathed. And it seems as if your battle was commencing today. You woke up feeling dreadful; runny nose, scratchy throat, constant sneezing, and red-rimmed eyes. Attractive.

There was no question in having to call in sick, so after throwing your hair up in the messiest of messy buns and locating the snuggest blanket, you dialled the number. You could practically hear the wince from Hotch when you started having a sneezing fit down the phone. Now you weren’t sure if you could look the man in the eye when you went back.

Once that torture was over and done with, you were feeling sorry for yourself and decided on a warm cup of tea and a dose of shitty daytime television. You were halfway through some over-enthusiastic talk show when you heard a knock at your door. Refusing to leave the blanket behind that you’d burrito’d yourself in, you shuffled over to the door.

You didn’t expect a very sympathetic looking Spencer on the other side of the door, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a welcomed sight.

“Hey.” You croaked out.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” You gave him a look that said it all, and he chuckled lightly. He lifted the bag he had in his hand. “I brought the best cure I could think of; chicken noodle soup.”

“I don’t want to get you sick, Spencer.” You whined, wanting nothing more than to curl up into his side but holding onto your selfless and rational thoughts by a mere thread.

You smiled at that, stepping aside to let him in. He passed you and went and got comfortable on your couch, grabbing a fork on the way. When you met him in the living room, he was ready and waiting for you with his arms open for you to snuggle into.

“Don’t worry about me. Now come on, your soup is getting cold.” He smiled, making grabby hands at you.

You made your way over, sinking into his embrace as he passed you the container and your fork. After a few mouthfuls and several minutes of listening to his steady breaths and thumps of his heart, you were feeling much better.

“Thank you.” You mumbled once you were finished and had placed your empty container on the coffee table in front of you, nuzzling further into Spencer’s chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Didn’t have to tell you twice.

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #Matthew Gray Gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #mgg #mgg fluff

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

smoke and fire (16)

word count; 9744

summary; thomas does his best to explain and make amends for the interruption of the night before, but things always seem to get in the way.

notes; again, this part ended up getting too long so it was split up, the finale of this became the next part.

warnings; reference to drug use, reference to injury.

Slamming your car door shut, you took a deep breath. Brenda had collected you the night before and driven you back to the station to get your own car, a gesture you were thankful for because you weren’t so sure getting a cab would have been the best thing for you this morning. You were almost late, only a few minutes off the beginning of your shift, and you could still see the night team clearing out, sleepily waving polite greetings to you as they got into their vehicles to head home.

Grabbing your bag from the backseat, you slammed that door shut too, locking the car up and tucking your keys into the front pocket of your day bag, you didn’t even bother putting it onto your shoulder, covering your mouth with a yawn as you wandered towards the buildings main entrance. Your bag bumped against your leg as you went, feet dragging on the tarmac as you tried to shake away your exhaustion, a smile pulling at your lips as you remembered your night with Brenda.

As promised, she’d brought a bottle of wine and enough take-out food for the entire Squad, before following you back to your place upon picking up your car. You drank, and ate, and she listened to you complain about everything that had happened before doing her best to give you advice. She told you about how things were progressing between her and Minho, and that she was thinking of asking him out on a real date, and she watched Adam Sandler movies with you until the early hours.

You’d caught a few hours of sleep after she’d sobered up from half a bottle of wine and driven herself home, and you’d pumped yourself full of enough coffee this morning that you were almost jittering, but you still felt tired. However, you did feel a lot better.

Until you rounded the corner to the main door, and Thomas perked up from where he was slumped against the doorway, standing up straight as his back left the wall beside the door, eyes fixed on you as you approached, and your footsteps stumbled for a moment. He met you halfway, pausing before you and he stayed a foot or so away, hands twitching by his sides as debated whether or not to reach out, and you grasped your bag a little tighter, holding it with both hands now.

“I don’t know what to say, or where to start.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Thomas.” You let out a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping, and you shrugged. “I mean, there’s really nothing to say. There wasn’t anything hidden and there were no secrets, you didn’t sneak around behind my back, it’s just something that happened.”

“I know, but I wanted to explain to you that-”

“You bitch, how do you look better than me when you drank more than I did?” Brenda all but yelled the words, and you winced, chuckling a little as she came up to your side, hopping with her steps, and you admired how much energy she had.

“Pretty sure it was you who drank more than I did last night.” You retorted, and she shrugged, linking her arm through your own. The bell overhead chimed, muted from being inside, of the building as the door sat pegged open, and your eyes flickered to the building. “I haven’t even gotten changed yet, does this make me officially late?”

“I’ll distract Vince so you can sneak into the lockers?” Brenda teased, and you rolled your eyes at her, smiling nonetheless.

“I have to go.” You held your bag up, shaking it a little at Thomas, and he nodded his head, face smoothing out as his frown lessened a little.

“I know, I know. Can we talk, though? Please, at some point?” You rolled your lower lip between your teeth, before nodding, and trying to offer him the best smile you could, despite the pain swirling through you right now.

“Of course, later, alright? I have stuff to do first. I still need to fill out all the forms for medicine and equipment used yesterday. I didn’t do it after the call.”

“After that, though?”

“After that.” You confirmed, and he stepped out of your way, lingering for a while as Brenda tugged you along the corridor, her arm looped through your own as she pulled you away into the corridor. Once you were approaching the locker room with no Vince in sight to chastise you for not being changed yet, she glanced back over her shoulder, letting you copy, to catch sight of the doors to the common room swinging as Thomas walked into there instead of following. “What are we looking for?”

“Thomas.” She huffed, holding open the door for you as her arm left yours and you thanked her, jumping a little as it slammed closed, behind you both. She took a seat on the bench before you as you opened your locker, dropping your bag down and pulling it open to expose your uniform, before tugging your hoodie up and over your head. “So, you’re really just forgiving him? Just like that?”

“What are you talking about? He didn’t technically do anything wrong.” Her brows raised at you, eyes narrowing a little as she tried to analyse you, while you tugged your smart new shirt up your arms, buttoning it up over your vest. “Don’t look at me like that, Bren, you know it’s true. He loved her, and you know that as well. Of course, he told her things he didn’t tell me, they have way more of a history, a deeper connection than we do, and there was a lot of unfinished business because it was a messy end.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t love her, anymore. You told him all of your secrets!” She argued, and you nodded, undoing the belt of your jeans and popping the button, shimmying them down your legs before folding them alongside your hoodie. “If you love someone, you should be honest with them, and not let them be caught off-guard with a whole shitstorm of things they don’t know!”

“Exactly. If you love them.” You mumbled, covering your bare legs with your smart work trousers, and pushing your feet back into work-appropriate sneakers that you’d abandoned, listening to her huff as she caved, nothing else to say. “Really, I’m not mad, you shouldn’t be either, nobody should be mad at anyone.”

“Well, I need to be mad at someone, because I’m anxious about asking Minho if he wants to go to dinner with me, and I’m better at being angry than nervous. Anxiety doesn’t suit me.” She huffed, and you grinned, putting your bag away in the locker and swapping out what you needed, before sitting down beside her on the bench to tie your laces. “What if he says no?”

“Then he’s stupid.”

“Well, duh, I’m hot as hell and great in bed.” She scoffed, and you grinned, flicking her in the forehead for sassing you. “I know, but I mean, what happens to us if he says no? Do we keep on hooking up like I didn’t ask, will things get awkward?”

“Well, y’know, you have to ask. Otherwise, you’re always going to wonder what could have happened, and you’re so hung up on the bad that you’re not seeing how awesome things could be.”

“It seems ironic to hear you saying that, what with how you used to be.”

“I’m trying to give you genuine advice, smartass.” She let out a sound of protest at the insult, before letting the last of her nervous defences down for you. “Look, just ask him. If he says no, then you know where he stands and you can move on. Either way, you stop hooking up as ‘just coworkers’. You might become something more, you might not, but you gotta’ take the chance. The same way I took a chance all those months ago by staying here and not running away like I always do, and it worked out for the best.”

“The best? Even though things are rocky with you and Thomas?”

“Whatever is going on between me and Thomas is just a fleck on the surface of it all.” She stared at you, waiting for you to go on, a vulnerable look in her eyes. “The ‘best’ I referred to is finding a family and a home with you all, and finding best friends like you and Newt, and a place to stay for however long I can. I don’t want to move anywhere, and it’s been a long time since I’ve been happy where I was, but I am here, thanks to you all. Even if things never go any further between me and Thomas, we’ll still be friends.”

“Okay, I guess you’re right. Which I rarely admit, so make the most of it.” She gave in, a smile taking over, and you held a hand out of her. She high-fived you, taking the offering, and you beamed, standing up and swinging your leg over the bench, before offering your hands out to her and pulling her to her own feet. “C’mon, I’ve got stock to take in the ambo, and you have a date to ponder.”

She sighed, dramatically, but wandered away with you. When you parted ways at the main door entrance, Newt was already sitting in the back of the ambulance, with the doors open, the clipboards out in front of him and both of your bags on the stretcher, the cupboards all open before him. The pen was held between his lips, and his phone was in hand one thumb moving rapidly over the screen as he typed away quickly, various diluted expression flickering over his face as he spoke.

You knocked on the door, your friend clearly not having sensed your arrival because he jumped rather violently when he heard your arrival, glancing at you for a second and letting his shoulders slump, before finishing his message and hitting ‘send’. He chucked his phone to the side to let it land on the beside your bags, and came forwards, sitting on the edge of the ambo’ and letting his legs swing. The pen dropped from his mouth, caught in his fingers and wiped on his shirt, your brows raising as you waited.

“I’m arguing with Derek.”

“Why?” You poked, his frown only deepening, and he shrugged a little, a flicker of anger passing over his features. “Seriously, what happened?”

“He cancelled our date, again. That night he was going to stay over, he didn’t but he said an emergency situation came in at the hospital and I figured that made sense. But then we rearranged for a week later, and he cancelled that too, and now he cancelled our rearrangement of the rearrangement which was supposed to be tonight, so I’m kinda’ mad.” Newt sighed, rolling his eyes slightly at his own reaction, and you plucked the pen and the clipboard from his hands, putting them down on the van floor and stepping a little closer. “I hate relationships.”

“Me too. You want a hug?”

“Mhm.” He stood, holding his arms out wide, and you wrapped yours around his waist as his went around your shoulders, squeezing you in tight to his body, and his chin hooking over your head. “So, why do you hate relationships? I thought you had a hot date last night?”

“Yeah, well, sometimes things get in the way. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But, you know I’m here if you do want to, right?” Newt pulled back enough to look at you, and you nodded your head, unable to help the smile you let out at his honesty.

“Yeah, I know.” You nudged his shoulder, and he stepped back, picking the clipboard back up, and clambering up into the van, holding a hand out to tug you up to follow. “So, I’ll count, you do the math, and we get it done in half the time?”

“Deal.” He beamed, and you set to work, turning your focus to the first cabinet, and the sets of bottles. You knew that there was no chance you’d actually used this much medicine, half of these bottles still had the seal on because they were so rarely used, but it was your job to check not only the quantities used but also their expiration dates and what needed replacing.

After pulling on a clean pair of gloves, you opened each jar, tipping the contents out into your hand if it was opened and counting each pill carefully back into the packet, so then it could be checked against the medication logs issued out, Newt adding everything up and writing down each name of medicine or treatment as you went.

You checked every cabinet methodically, rearranging the bottles inside of their holsters and putting them back, moving across the cabinets above the beds. The pair of you moved ins silence, as you always did when doing this job, putting your main focus on the medicines you were calculating, but his company was simply soothing enough.

There was something about being with Newt that was calming, doing this job was calming. It hadn't always been so, for a few months when you’d first moved to this house it had been tense and made your skin crawl, the silence for well over an hour as you counted bottles save for calling out numbers and giving dates on bottles used to make you feel uncomfortable. Now, you loved it. The quiet time with Newt made you feel relaxed, like you could let your walls down, and the mundane task of counting the medications gave you time to think. It was a safe space you could always use to clear your thoughts, a weekly task that helped you to keep your mind in order.

There was a lot on your mind today, everything from fear and confusion to an odd sense of serenity. You already knew that no matter what happened, this was your home, and if things never progressed between you and Thomas, if the furthest the two of you ever got into exploring what could be was the kiss that barely counted on his couch, you weren’t going anywhere. These were your friends, this was your family, and it was an incredible feeling like a rush of warmth simply to know that you were strong enough this time to make it through the pain, and that you didn’t have to run anymore.

Moving across to the drawers behind yourself, Newt was purposefully avoiding the buzzing on his phone as he moved to the bed, the humming of ‘Mr Sandman’ under his breath getting a little more aggressive each time another text came in, and you snickered as you listened to him.

“You know, you’re going to have to talk to him at some point.”

“Yeah, but not right now. I’m mad right now.” He scoffed, turning the device off entirely, and you gave him a pointed look, which he was more than eager to avoid. His pen went back to scratching at the paper, scribbling down notes with a little more force than necessary, and you turned back to finishing the final drawers. The supplies in there were definitely running low, everything from the needles to fluid bags was on the short side, and you needed more water bottles to go in the fridge, because you’d used up the last of them.

When the job was finally complete, you were simply left with grabbing your bag, and taking it with you as you went to the stockroom, ready to count what was in them and grab what you needed. Flicking on the light, it was cold inside, the concrete walls having no radiators attached to them, and you shivered at the icy feeling that had gotten caught inside.

Placing your bag down on the table in the middle of the room as the musty yellow light overhead warmed up and got brighter, Newt grabbed the large plastic basket from the table and added that to the middle, the clipboard and plastic bag following. You sourced another pen from the pot, used to Newt’s routine by now, and he handed you two cheers of charted paperwork, keeping two himself, as the two of you split the supplies that needed gathering.

Turning to the shelves, you glanced down at the first item on the list, staring at the writing on the paper for a second, before giving in. “Newt, can I ask you a question about Thomas?”

“Sure! Especially if it’s something embarrassing. Did you know he cried when Tony Stark died? Sobbed like a toddler who got their toys taken away.”

“Okay, first of all, we all cried.” You mumbled, grabbing the first few bottles from the shelf that you needed, and stacking them into the box. “But, no, this is something serious.”

“Okay, well, shoot.” His voice was a little strained as he reached up to one of the higher shelves, pulling a box forwards to get at the contents inside, and you left a little tick next to each box as you gathered the correct amount, or left a number next to the ones where the full amount wasn’t available, so you’d know what to order more of.

“Do you think Thomas is still in love with Teresa?”

“Oh, fucking hell, it is a serious question.” He had turned to face you, you caught his eye as you twisted to another bottle of ‘carbamazepine’ into the crate of supplies. “It’s also a loaded answer.”

“Stop looking at me while you tell me, it’s making me nervous. Pack as you talk.” He chuckled at the request, turning back to his work, and taking a few hesitant moments, before letting out a slow breath.

“I don’t think he does, no. This house was having a lot of substitute paramedics filling in with me before you, and Thomas was angry and upset for a while, and he made it real difficult for anyone to take this job because for a few months he was sure she was coming back, and then he lost hope at all. Around about month eight, you showed up.”

You felt slightly nauseous, like you’d somehow started prying into his business where you weren’t welcome, but Newt was sharing it with you, and there was arguably nobody who knew Thomas better, and what he’d be okay with you knowing.

“He was still hurting when you showed up, as you know, but then he wasn’t hurting anymore. You changed that for him, and he was happy again, he didn’t blame himself so much and he wasn’t so mad. I don’t think he loves her anymore.”

You swallowed thickly, not too sure what to say, and so you switched onto the next page of your set, staring down at the numbers, and trying to clear your thoughts. It was a lot to take in; on the one hand, it filled you with warmth and made you feel a little more secure, but on the other hand, it only made you doubt things further, because you wondered why he’d never told you any of it himself.

“Why do you ask?”

“Teresa showed up last night.” Newt hissed under his breath, the shaking of pills inside plastic sounding, and he continued to pack his collection. He finished before you did, putting down his clipboard and pen before opening up his bag, and moving on to restocking it with sprays and cotton pads. “She said they had unfinished business, and she knew a whole bunch of stuff that made me feel like I barely knew him. I didn’t even know about his mom, Newt. She knows him, I don’t.”

“She also left him.” He sighed, clearing his throat and forcing you to look at him as you finished your sheets, taking your bag and standing opposite him. “What you and Tommy have is nothing like what they had. She already knew everything about him, he’s taking it slow with you, he’s nervous. Maybe that's why he didn’t say anything. He really likes you, okay? You should talk to him about this.”

“I know, I know.” You huffed, shaking your head slightly, and giving in to the silence again as you packed your bag up carefully. You filled it up again, a fresh canister of antiseptic, new cotton pads, fresh packers of paper stitches and needles threads, and some new painkillers. When you were done, you grabbed both bags, Newt grabbing the basket, and the pair of you headed back toward the ambo’.

When you arrived, there was someone leaning against it, and Newt froze in his tracks, face growing a little icy as he stared at the man there. He looked sullen, white lab coat and scrubs swapped out for skinny jeans and a hoodie, his hands tucked into the pockets, and you felt like you were suffocating in the tension.

“What are you doing here? I am working.” Your partner hissed, stepping a little closer, and Derek lifted a set of flowers that he’d placed on the bottom of the ambulance, an offering as he gave Newt a soft smile. “You can’t have those here, and not in the ambulance. Some people have hay-fever, you know.”

“C’mon, are you really still gonna’ be mad at me?”

“Yes, I am, because you keep fucking cancelling on me,” Newt muttered, stepping past his boyfriend and into the truck with his box, huffing when he stumbled a little on his leg, and Derek placed a supportive hand on his back. You offered your friend a shrug when the dark-haired man sent you a pitiful look, begging for help, but you had no idea what you could do. “You know, if we’re breaking up, just say it.”

“Do you think that if I wanted us to break up, that I would have come all the way down here with flowers to apologise after you stopped answering my texts? Huh?” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as he was evidently exasperated with the situation, and you placed down your bags, under the stretcher, tucking them away securely, and Newt was angrily putting away bottles and packets. “I cancelled our first time, and that was a mistake, okay? The second time I just freaked out, because it had so much pressure on it then, and you know my relationship history.”

There was a story there, and you shuffled from foot to foot, feeling like you should go, but Newt shot you a desperate glare the second you took a few steps back, and you were frozen in your place to awkwardly endure the conversation you were listening to.

“Then, I felt bad for cancelling the second time because I was nervous. We rearranged again but I wanted to make it up to you, and do something more special, and you didn’t even give me a chance to explain!”

“There’s nothing to explain, you just keep cancelling! You’re the one who suggested taking this step!” Newt’s voice raised a little, nearing a shout, and you poured your lips together. “You said ‘maybe we should call it off for tonight, and wait a few more weeks, and do something else’. If you aren’t ready, or you don’t want to, just say it! But don’t keep rearranging if you don’t plan to go through with it!”

“I was trying to ask if you wanted to go away with me for the weekend!”

“You were-” Newt cut himself off from his shouting, his cheeks going red, and he stopped where he was putting away equipment to stare at his boyfriend. “You were?”

“Yes, you hot-head! I was trying to ask if you wanted to go away for the weekend, when there would be no interruptions, we could book it off. Then you got mad at me and stopped answering, so I had to drag myself out of bed, on my day off, to come down here and fix it.” Derek huffed, and you covered your mouth to muffle your chuckle, but it didn’t work, because both men turned to look at you.

“I’m gonna’ go get more water bottles. You keep unpacking.” Newt nodded, face still flushed, and you spun on your heel, smirking to yourself as you walked away. Entering the common room, a few of the firefighters turned to look at you, raised brows as you made your way through the kitchen to the large cupboards continuing water bottles.

“What’s with all the yelling?”

“Newt got a visitor, and some flowers.” You teased, gasps and teasing going up around the room, and Fry raced to the window with Brenda to peer out of it. Thomas was sitting at the kitchen island, an abandoned bowl that had the remnants of cereal sitting beside him, and he watched you go as you pulled out several packets of water bottles to refill the fridge with.

“Are you almost finished with the ambulance?” There was hope in his voice, his eyes wide as he looked at you, glitter swimming in his irises, and you nodded, closing the cupboard door with your foot. “We can, uh- we can talk soon, then?”

“Yeah, we can.” You lifted one packet of the bottles, feeling a little guilty at the cold shoulder you were giving him when you’d sworn to yourself you wouldn't because he wasn’t to blame, and that you wouldn't take your pain out on him, because that would only put the two of you back to where you were when you’d first joined this team. “Do you wanna’ help me carry the water? If you’re not busy?”

He perked up a little at that, a small smile forming and he stood up, reaching out for two packets straight away. “I’d love to.”

Following after you as you took one of the final two, he followed after you quietly, turning to look at you with raised brows as he backed through the swinging doors and caught sight of Derek and Newt. The two seemed to have calmed down considerably, Newt was no longer yelling, and instead, he had a beam on his face, sitting on the edge of the van where Derek was leaning and staring up at him with what could only be described as heart-eyes, and you huffed a little.

As you approached, Newt’s attention moved to you, his cheeks going red as you placed down your packet of water bottles, placing your hands on your hips, and Derek turned to give you a wider smile now that he wasn’t as stressed.

“You know, when you gave me his number, you promised me peaceful.”

“Uh, I absolutely did not. I could never promise peaceful from Newt. I promised calm and simple. I have delivered, because as far as I’m aware, Newt has yet to force you on a rollercoaster or make you go skydiving.” Newt gagged falsely, before tearing open the plastic of one packet loudly, and opening the fridge to begin stacking them inside.

“I hate rollercoasters.”

“I know.” You teased, and he flashed you a toothy grin, while continuing to put water bottles into the door of the mini-fridge. “There’s another packet of bottles, I’ll go grab it.” You jerked a thumb over your shoulder, Thomas sticking his hands into his pockets, turning to look at you as Derek began to say his goodbyes, the two talking quietly among themselves and consolidating plans with as much privacy as they could get. “Then, yeah, we talk.”

He nodded, motioning his head over towards one of the fire trucks, promising he’d wait there for you, and you only nodded. It took you only a few moments to grab the last collections of water, Derek walking away and offering you a wave as he left, a little more of a pep in his step and a smile on his face than it had been when the pair of you had first seen him, and Newt was grinning madly to himself in the back of the van as you approached.

“So, not as dire as suspected, then?”

You placed the bundle down, leaning over it a little and balancing your forearms on it, crossed over as you looked at him, and your partner sighed happily. “Okay, so, maybe I was overthinking it, and maybe I reacted too soon, but there was compelling evidence, you gotta’ give me that.”

“I never said I didn’t!” You teased, and Newt lifted a whole packet, unopened, and began to stack them into the fridge, the scuffling of shoes a few metres away reminding both of you of Thomas’ presence, and Newt gleaned at his best friend over your shoulder, a split second diversion, before his gaze was back to meeting your own. His look said it all, and you slumped a little more, pouting slightly. “I know, I know. I’m gonna’ face up to it, but sometimes ignorance is bliss.”

“He looks like a kicked puppy. I hate seeing him like that.” Newt frowned, and your shoulders slumped a little further. “I hate seeing you like this, too. It’s killing me.” He reached a hand out, placing it over your cheek, and swiping his thumb over your cheekbone gently, matching your pout. “I’m here if you need me. I’ll support you. I’ll finish up with the bottles and put the stock order through. Go sort your shit out.”

“Thanks, Newt.” You took a deep breath, your gut twisting anxiously, before standing up, and turning around to face Thomas, who was waiting patiently, and pretending not to be trying to eavesdrop.

Making your way over, Thomas offered you a small smile, lips pursed together, but it looked more pained than genuine, and you felt bad that he was so worried, because you didn’t want him to have to be scared to talk to you. No matter what, you’d still be his friend, and his family, and a member of his team.

He shook himself down slightly, and you lifted a hand, placing it on his arm gently, just below his elbow, giving it a light squeeze and he seemed to lose some of his tension at the simple action, his gaze dropping down to it. He paused for a second longer, but he looked back to you, and you could see the cogs working in his mind. “Relax, alright? You look like you’re about to have a meltdown. You wanted to talk, just say what's on your mind.”

“There’s so fucking much on my mind, though, and I can’t think straight.” He huffed, words running out so quickly they all ran together, and his brows furrowed slightly. “Look, first, I just wanted to apologise, okay? Before we get to anything else, I feel like shit for letting you walk away, and having to get Brenda to come and get you. I was just, I don’t know, in shock, I guess? I wasn’t thinking, just like I can’t think now, there’s so many fucking thoughts, my head hurts.”

You frowned, and his eyes flickered over your features, waiting for a reaction. You weren’t sure what to say, but his gaze was too intense, though he seemed to pick up on your forgiveness because while your touch dropped away from his arm, you didn’t step away, and you allowed him to take a hesitant step closer, lifting a hand towards your cheek. Before it could land, you were looking away, your brows furrowing, and he pushed away stray hairs from your forehead. “Uh, Aaron?”

“It’s Thomas, actually.” Your sights snapped back to the man before you, an unamused look on your face despite the twitches of your lips, a direct contrast to the smile he was wearing as he attempted to lighten the situation, and you smacked the back of your hand against his shoulder.

“No, dumbass, Aaron.” You pointed behind him, to the main bay doors, and he swung around, turning to face the driveway, and the young boy you had helped so many months ago was walking up the front pathway of the firehouse, hands tucked in his hoodie pockets. His body sagged a little, hands falling to his sides and curling into light fists, jaw tensing a little, like he’d only just actually registered what you’d said. “Can I-”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’ll just, y’know, wait here.”

You smiled, as best you could with the heavy air settled between you both, before turning to Aaron. He glanced around the garage, seemingly nervous, hiding it behind a scowl before he finally saw you and an endearingly happy look took over the teens face. Your footsteps were quick, almost a skip as you made your way over to meet him at the entrance, and his hands untucked from his pockets, one pushing his hood down from his head to his neck, and you took him in for a second.

There were scars, faded and scarcely noticeable unless the cuts he’d once had were burned into your mind, and you hadn't noticed any kind of limp as he was walking up here, showing that his physical therapy had been paying off, almost a year of it making his recovery possible. There was more colour to his skin, he didn’t look as pale and washed out as the first times you’d met him, and his hair had grown longer, shaggy and sitting long enough for him to run his fingers through, covering the tips of his ears. His smile reached a little wider.

“Aaron, what are you doing here? I mean, I’m thrilled to see you, you look like you’re doing so much better, but this is a surprise.”

“Yeah, I can see that, it looks like I interrupted something important. Are you in trouble?” He gasped, holding a hand over his heart, and you turned to look back at Thomas, who was leaning against the firetruck and kicking his heel back against the tyre.

“I am, but not the kind you think.” You mumbled, staring at him for a second longer, before bringing your attention back to the kid before you. “So, what’s up?”

“I, uh, you’re part of my rehab. Well, my therapy, really.” He scratched at the back of his neck, an embarrassed laugh leaving him, and you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing comfortingly. “I went to rehab, and I’ve been clean since the hospital, and my physical therapy worked, obviously. But, my sponsor suggested I started actual therapy, and for months I hated the idea, but I hit super low a couple weeks ago and I wanted to relapse but I didn’t want to let my sister down, and I didn’t want to let you down, and then I realised how long it had been since I’d seen you..”

“Oh, but I’m so happy for you! The fact that so much time passed by without you realising is a good thing. It means you’re doing well, and I couldn't be prouder of you.”

“Really?” He sighed, daring to look up from the concrete he was staring at, warm cheeks signalling his nerves.

“Really.”

He nodded, smiling again now, and letting his anxiety slip away, relaxing before your very eyes. “Good, because, I also wanted to ask you for some advice.” You raised a brow, curiosity filling you. “My therapist thinks I should set goals, y’know? I transferred schools and moved to a new neighbourhood and I got a kinda’ fresh start, and it’s nice, and my therapist says I should pick something to work towards. My grades in school are kinda’ crap and I’m working hard to pull them around but it’s a lot to catch up and with my history, I’m probably not going to college, so it leaves me with limited options.”

“Kid, don’t think like that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Because, there’s a lot you can still do that doesn’t require you to have good grades. Maybe I won’t become a super cool paramedic, but,” He cut himself off, shy once again as he rocked on the balls of his feet, and you couldn't contain your smile. “Y’know, maybe a firehouse candidate doesn’t need all A’s?”

“You want to be a fireman?”

“I mean, is that too much?” He was worried now, and you hadn't intended for it to come across that way, shaking your head rapidly.

“No, of course, it isn’t! I’m just surprised. I’m also really, really happy for you. I think that sounds awesome.” He beamed, an expression that read like you’d made his whole day, and you filled with warmth at the idea. “I’m not sure on how it all works, I’m pretty sure you have to do a couple of training courses, and a season at the academy in your free time for your physical training, but I don’t know what that entails. However, one of our other firemen, Jeff, only finished his candidacy a couple of years ago, so he’s pretty fresh with it all. How about I talk to him, and get him to give you a call with some more information, yeah?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“‘Course I would, kiddo.” You reached out, messing up the mop of hair he had, and his face formed a scowl for just a second, smoothing it back down as you giggled, before turning away. “Let me grab you a pen and paper, hold on.”

He nodded, and you stepped away to the ambulance, opening up the passenger side door and reaching into the dash compartment, searching around for the pad and pen you knew was in there, among other pieces of junk, before finding both pieces. The young man took them from you when you returned, leaning against one of the side tables as he scribbled down the information he had; his name, his phone number, his email address, before handing it back over to you, his lips pursed to contain his expression as he kept up strong appearances.

“You’ll hear from him soon.”

“Thank you so much.” You tore the paper from the pad, tucking the pen through the rings and folding the used sheet neatly in half.

“It’s just some information on some courses. It’s nothing.”

“No, no.” He shrugged, biting his lips for a second, before focusing on what he wanted to say. “I meant, thank you for saving my life.”

There was more in his tone, more than just the physical act of changing his life, and as he stared at you honestly without a hint of anything but gratitude, you tried to blink back tears that were forming, and ignore the stinging in the back of your throat. “Well, that was my pleasure. Thanks for making me so proud with what you’ve chosen to do with it.”

“That was my pleasure.” He mocked, chuckling when you rolled your eyes at him, before he took a step back. “My foster mom is waiting for me in the car, I gotta’ go.”

“Go make me proud, come see me again soon, okay?”

“I will, I promise.” He hesitated for a second, before stepping forwards, and letting you wrap your arms around him as he squeezed you back just as tightly, sagging into you with what you guessed was a much-needed hug for him, running your hand up and down his back soothingly.

“You’re such a good kid, Aaron, you’re gonna’ be great.”

“I hope so.” His voice cracked slightly, and he avoided your eyes as he pulled back, rubbing at his nose and turning to make his way back toward the street.

He turned, waving at you for a second, before he was gone, getting into the car that was parked up and almost completely hidden by the bushes lining the pathway, but you saw enough to watch the excited look on his face as he spoke to his mom.

They chatted for a few minutes, before the car was pulling away, and you watched as he waved again upon seeing you still standing there, the car cruising past, and your cheeks were almost aching from your smile. Turning around, you detoured to the ambulance to put the pad and pen back, before Thomas was making his way over slowly, and you turned to him.

“Good chat?”

“He wants to be a fireman, Tommy.” His face softened a little at your joy, and you couldn't help it, feeling particularly attached to this patient, as he’d been so important to you, and you knew you’d never forget him. “He’s in therapy, and he didn’t relapse, and he wants to do something with his life. He said he wanted to make me and his family proud, and he wants to do something important and give back. God, he deserves it, he’s working so hard.”

“That’s amazing, sweetheart,” Thomas spoke gently, and you nodded, joy shooting through you.

“Yeah, it is. I told him I’d get Jeff to give him a ring or send him an email with some more information since he was a candidate pretty recently, but maybe you could too?”

“Of course, yeah.” You put the piece of paper securely into your pocket, patting it to confirm, before turning back to Thomas.

“Anyway, you were saying something before. You can continue now.” Thomas tensed up again almost immediately, and your mood was already beginning to lower again, but you tried not to let it sink any lower, no matter what Thomas had to say.

“I was just trying to tell you I was sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I mean, you loved her. Of course, she was going to know more about you, and it was messy, so there was unfinished business on her end and clearly some on your end, too. Which wasn't exactly a shock because you were still pretty upset over it when we met, I just didn’t know it still cut you up now.” You shrugged, confusion flicking over Thomas’ features, before dismay and disappointment were taking their place.

“That’s the thing, though, I didn’t know there was still unfinished business until she showed up. She was right there, and she was speaking about things like it was still a fresh wound and not something that happened almost two years ago, and it threw me.”

“Thomas..” You paused, nervous sickness sweeping over you again and you tried to steady it. “I think a little part of you must have known. I mean, I get it. It was sudden, and you were invested, and there was no build-up. But, you still had pictures of her up in your living room, and you still had her number, and ever after all this time, you were still willing to ‘catch up’ with her when she stepped back into your life. Somewhere, deep down, you knew, you just didn’t want to think about it.”

“I know how it looks, okay? I do, I really do, and I know I fucked up what we have going on, but there was more to it.” He paused, stuttering a little, before going silent, his words falling away, and he cursed himself under his breath as he tried to decide what to say. “She knows my mom, and I should have told you about my mom, I was going to, I planned to. But, it’s hard to just come out and say.”

“You think I’m mad, because you didn't tell me about your mom?”

“Well, I mean, I’m taking it from your tone that’s not what you’re mad about, but I don’t know if you’re mad at all, and whether that’s a good sign, or a really bad one, but-” Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you jumped violently, having forgotten that it was even there because you never normally carried it on shift, usually leaving it in your locker, but today was an exception. It continued buzzing, clearly not a text but a call, and Thomas’ face flushed with anger. “You’ve gotta’ be fucking kidding me.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot I even had it, let me put it on silent, okay?” You pulled it out, brow furrowing for a second as you looked at the number on screen, trying to place why you knew it, before the last few digits clicked in your mind. “Oh, it's the hospital! It must be about Gally!”

You looked up to Thomas, whose face smoothed over from anger at another interruption, but he nodded his head, seeming at least a little relieved. “Answer it, everyone needs to know.”

You clicked ‘accept’, bringing the device to your ear, and taking a few steps away to answer it. As you listened to the nurse on the end of the line talk, you could only focus on a few key pieces of information, humming and mumbling a few words of acknowledgement as you chewed on the nail of your thumb, pacing in the entrance of the garage.

Thomas watched you, waiting for a few minutes, trying to put together how you were feeling clearly as he stared at you, puzzled you didn’t doubt, and you eventually gave up on the spot. Nodding your head to the man, you motioned toward the common room, and he made his way to your side, the two of you walking there in silence as you entered the room, and Thomas made sure to round up anyone who wasn’t in the room, including Vince, everyone gathering in silence and the television being turned off as they all waited.

When you finally got done, all eyes were on you as you thanked the nurse who had called you, clicking your phone off and putting it away. Letting out a deep breath, your hands rubbed together, and a smile pulled on your cheeks.

“Gally is okay.” Cheering went up around the room, a giggle on your lips that only increased when Fry scooped you up, swinging you around in circles once your feet left the floor, and you slipped in his grip slightly, insisting he put you down so you could finish what you had to say; “They got the bleeding under control yesterday evening, he’s all stitched up, and last night he woke up from his meds and was able to do a few tests, before the painkillers knocked him out again. He’s had all his shots, and they finished up their examinations.”

“Why does it feel like there’s a ‘but’ to come, though?”

“Because there is.” Vince’s eyes narrowed a little bit, analytically as he studied you again, and you sighed, the joy in the room dropping away as everybody turned from their celebratory chatter to focus silently on you again. “There was a lot of nerve damage in his shoulder, and he still has some movement, but he struggles to make a tight fist. He doesn’t have enough strength to lift anything up, not even something light. Admittedly, it’s only been twelve hours and they’re optimistic about it, they have great physical therapy programs and Gally is a healthy guy, but they said they can’t promise anything solid yet, but he may not be able to return if he can’t pass the physical requirements with that arm anymore.”

“He’s okay, though?”

“He has some use of the arm, right?”

“They say anything else about his recovery?”

“How long until they discharge him?”

The questions came flying in, overwhelming you a little, and you sighed, swallowing down the lump in your throat as hesitation swept in. “He’s okay; and yes, he has some use of his arm, which is a really good sign right now. They said some people don’t show signs of movement after that kind of trauma for days after surgery, so he’s doin’ good. They didn’t say a lot, but that’s because they have to talk to him about his recovery options first, doctor-patient confidentiality, y’know?”

They nodded, taking it all in, and Clint spoke up, from where he’d been leaning against the wall in silence. “How long until we can see him?”

“We can go see him from tomorrow, as long as it’s during visiting hours, of course. As for discharging him, I’m not too sure, they didn’t say. If I had to make a guess, though, I’d say they’ll keep him for observations for another week or so, and then send him home on extended leave for work.”

That seemed to soothe everyone, plans to visit Gally and who would go and when immediately taking up, and Vince excused himself from the room, remaining professional despite his relief as he gave the reasoning of going to arrange a temporary Truck lieutenant replacement, but you suspected he just wanted to relax in his relief alone, where he didn’t seem any less strong or fit to lead by doing it in front of his crew.

You were floating on a little bit of a high, having seen Aaron and now having good news for Gally, what had started as a bad day was very rapidly becoming an epic one, despite the lingering sadness still hanging over it.

Scooter woofed, loudly, expressing his own excitement as he sensed everyone else's, and he sat up in his bed, the new cushion with his name stitched across the front that had arrived a few days ago, chosen specially by Minho himself as everyone chipped in for it, and you crouched down, tapping at the floor for him, and the puppy came bounding over.

Scratching behind his ears, his tail wagged excitedly, thumbing against the tiles floor when he sat down for you, before he was rolling over, exposing his belly to you for scratch, and you chuckled at his enthusiasm.

Golden fur as growing back on his body, no longer showing the patches that had been shaved, and he was almost at the end of his medication course, the pills that you had to crush and hide in his food to get him to at, and you certainly wouldn’t miss that struggle every day as you disguised the medicine he needed. His stitches had dissolved and burns were healed, a half-used tube of dog-friendly skin cream having worked wonders, and the bottoms of his paws that had been swollen and sore were all fixed up, allowing him to run and bound every time you took him for a walk without any pain.

“Hey, you know I taught him a new trick?” Minho came over, crouching beside the puppy and scratching at his tummy two, taking over as you pulled your hand back, and Scoot squirmed and yipped happily on the floor with his excitement. Something in Minho’s tone suggested he wasn’t talking about tricks like ‘sit down’ or ‘roll over’, and you chuckled. “Do you wanna’ see?”

“Yeah-”

“No!” Thomas interrupted, and you turned to him, brow raising, standing up a little before him, and his face crumpled a little. “I mean, in a few minutes. Just give us, like, fifteen minutes, please! No interruptions or anything, I just needed fifteen minutes to talk to you.” His tone was pleading, and you nodded, holding up your phone.

“Let’s go put this away in my locker, and then I'm all yours, alright?”

He nodded, following after you as everyone mingled around, returning to their business as they waited for the day to go by, and you unhooked your locker, placing it on the shelf inside as soon as you could. There was evidently a lot Thomas wanted to say, he looked like he was running through it in his mind, various expressions taking over one another in quick succession as his thoughts worked, and he followed you silently as you guided him out of the locker room, and into the hall. He took a breath, before you could speak, and then your name was being called by Brenda from the garage, and Thomas growled under his breath.

“Why are you the most popular person on the surface of the fucking planet today?”

His hand found your wrist, securely but not so tight as to hurt you, and he tugged you along behind him, ignoring the second shout of your name from Brenda as she entered the hallway at the opposite end of the corridor, noticing you. You glanced back, protesting a little as Thomas pulled you with him and guided you through the halls, before opening the door to his office. He looked stressed, closing the door, and turning to face you as your back pressed to it, eyes wide at the look on his face.

“I just need five damn minutes to tell you how I feel and what the hell is going on and I can’t get even thirty damn seconds today.” He wasn’t talking to you, more like yelling at the universe, but he was jittery and on edge over it all.

“Tommy..” His attention moved to you at the sound of the nickname, his features softening slightly.

“You’ve got me now. Just talk, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.” He was whispering it to himself, calming down, and his eyes closed. Two deep breaths, and then he was looking back to you, sadness swimming in pretty brown irises. “The first time I called Teresa was a long time ago, okay? You’d been here for, like, two months. We were arguing all the time and I was pretty sure you despised me but you reminded me of her and it made me miss her more. I called her, and told her I missed her. And, yeah, I told my mom that too. But, that was before any of this started.”

He waved a finger between you both, pausing for a second, and you stepped a little closer to him, placing a hand on his cheek, which he happily leaned into. “Thomas, I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” His hand closed over yours, holding your hand there for a second longer, before pulling it away. “I called her again, the night after the first time we spent a day together. After Chuck’s funeral. It had been so long since I had actually seen her, and we were drunk by the end of the night, and when I got home and I was alone again, I was sad and confused. “I wanted to tell her it was over, I wanted to finish whatever was unfinished between us, but she didn’t answer. Admittedly, it was like three in the morning by then, so I’m not really surprised she didn’t. But, by the morning, I wasn’t brave enough to face it again. It fucking hurts, still. All of it, it hurts to dig back up, but not as much as it did.”

“You’re brave, Thomas. You were brave telling me everything you have, and I know there’s something different and deeper that you had with her, and that’s okay. You can never just forget her, she was a part of your history.” He frowned, sensing it was going somewhere else. “I just need to know if I’m going to be a part of your future or not.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, Tommy.” He sighed, lips pursing when his chin wobbled, and you lifted your hand again, hovering near his cheek, and he nodded, letting you cup his jaw softly. “I’m not going anywhere, but you gotta’ decide, okay? I don’t want to be strung along, and I’m not mad at you. I’m not going anywhere, this is my home. So, no matter what happens, I’ll still be here and I’ll still be your friend.”

“I don’t want us to be just friends, though.”

You nodded, dropping your hand from his face, and he looked a little more broken as you did, but he let you step back. “I know, Thomas, but I can’t be a second choice, okay? I can’t be with you, if you’re still in love with her. Just make your choice, and let me know, okay?”

“But I don’t. Love her, I mean. Not anymore, you changed things. I know she’s back, and I sorted things out, and I know it all seems like I didn’t but I..” His words trailed off, not knowing what else to say, studying your face carefully as he tried to find what you were feeling, but if there was one thing you were good at, it was looking your feelings up tight.

Silence fell between you both, only the sounds of heavy and deep breaths to break the tension, before the chiming overhead muted by the closed office door called you both away to a call.

He paused, just for a second, before glancing at the door, signalling the pair of you to go. Once you opened the door, you could hear the rushing of the team, multiple footsteps and the sounds of engines starting as they all ran to their stations, boarding the vans, and as you reached the doorway to the corridor, a second before entering the busy garage, you turned to him, watching as he came to a halt from where he’d followed behind.

“If you want to try and make things work with her, that’s okay. If you want to make things work with me, then you already know I want that, too. I just need you to clear things up, that's all, and if you want us, then we’ll start over, okay? We’ll forget last night ever happened, okay?” He nodded, a vulnerable look on his face as he stared at you, hope flickering over his face. “You promised you’d never hurt me, Tommy, so just don’t hurt me.”

He only nodded, the two of you backing out into the main bay, and Newt was waiting next to the ambulance, the Truck can already pulling out, and Thomas was kicking off his shoes to pull on his work boots as you climbed into the passenger seat, following the first red van, as the second one followed the two of you.

Newt didn’t say anything, which you were grateful for, because your emotions were in overdrive, the idea of him picking an option that wasn’t you cutting deeper than you cared to admit, but he silently offered you companionship on the ride. He didn’t comment on your cracking voice or occasional sniffles as you tried to read off the information that had come through on the screen of the ambulance as he drove, to prepare you both for what was coming.

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #thomas the maze runner #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #firefighter!tommy #ff!tommy #smoke and fire #SAF

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marshmallow-phd · 3 years

Text

Book of the Dead

Genre: The Mummy AU

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: After traveling to the fabled city of Hamunaptra, you read from the Book of the Dead and accidentally resurrect an ancient mummy with extraordinary powers and quest for revenge. The only thing to do now is try and convince your less-than-traditional guide to help you save the world.

Part 1 I Part 2

“I just said a few sentences!”

“What did you do that for!”

“Well, I didn’t know that that would happen!”

You stared at the aggravating, self-absorbed, cocky Korean soldier and wondered why on earth you had decided to negotiate for this man’s life.

Alright, you did know why. You needed him to show you to Hamunuptra - the fabled City of the Dead.

Too many times you had stood in front of the museum curator with pages and pages of references and evidence that the place existed and just needed a small team of archeologists in order to track it down. He’d shot you down every time. And each time he took the liberty of reminding you that while your father was an exceptional explorer who had many successes under his belt, you were a woman whose life had been spent between the shelves, cataloging. Your adventures consisted of the fictional kind, devouring any novel you could when you weren’t archiving the latest crate of artifacts and texts.

Then your cousin showed up. Your normally useless, hare-brained, erratic, drunkard cousin showed up at your apartment with a “fun new artifact” he found on his latest trip. And suddenly your luck had completely turned around.

Or so you thought.

Now you were standing in the middle of Hamunaptra, feet sinking into the unstable sand, with an empty sarcophagus and everyone blaming you because you did what you did best - read.

It was only a book. Albeit, a very heavy, possibly-made-of-painted-solid-gold book that was written in the dead language of ancient Egypt, but still. What harm had ever come from reading a book?

Kim Junmyeon stared at you as if you were the one who had risen from the dead. You were still stunned at how different he looked from when you had first met him in that smelly prison, minutes away from being hanged. His hair had been long and stringy, clumps of dirt clinging to the dark brown strands that brushed his shoulders. Now it was shorter, cut above his ears and gelled back in the current style that almost made him look like a gentleman. The several days’ stubble was long gone to reveal smooth skin and a sharp jawline. He was actually very handsome - when he was cleaned up.

Stupid, you hissed at yourself. Now was not the time for this. Because right now there seemed to be a reanimated mummy running around here. And by the looks of Barney’s husk of a body lying deep within the temple underground, it was hungry.

As it should be, given the three thousand years it spent locked up under piles of sand.

“Really, you should have been more careful!” your cousin, Baekhyun, scolded.

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. You were the one who snatched the key off of Mr. Kim here at one of your seedy bars and then proceeded to lie to me and say that you found it on a dig in Thebes which in turn brought us here!”

Baekhyun opened and closed his mouth as he searched for a possible retort.

“I think this is more your fault,” Kim Junmyeon’s own cousin and traveling partner, Oh Sehun, said. “You told us to go down a level and dig under the statue, which in turn,” he mocked your tone almost precisely, “caused the mummy to be able to get out of his sarcophagus. If we had dug somewhere else entirely, then he’d still be trapped under the statue of Anubis.”

“Despite the fact that it was two layers deep, nothing would have been able to hold a victim of the Hom-Dai.”

“Would have given poor Barney a chance,” Kim Junmyeon muttered under his breath. You shot him a glare that he hardly noticed.

“I say that we get out of here and to the safety of the city before the mummy finds us.” Oh Sehun swallowed thickly. “Or worse. The beetles find us.” The supposedly brave soldier who had two pistols hanging under each arm was more terrified of the flesh eating bugs than he was the living mummy that was bringing about the ten plagues of Egypt. You’d already lived through the locust infestation, but that was always the most minor of the plagues. In your opinion.

“We told you to leave,” Ardeth said in that low, monotone voice that made him seem centuries old. You had only known him for a few hours, but you already feared and respected him. Despite the fact that he had attacked your campsite the night before. “Now you have condemned the whole world to the very monster that we have spent three thousand years keeping hidden.”

Kim Junmyeon finally tore his face away from yours. “I told you. I shot him. He went down.”

“Mortal weapons are useless against this creature. None can kill him.” Stepping up, he stood toe to toe with the soldier who led you here. “A gun is nothing more than a fly to him. He will never eat. He will never sleep. And he will never stop. Not until this world is only sand.”

Though still not completely backing down, Kim Junmyeon took hold of your arm. “Come on. We’re going back to Cairo.”

The camel ride back to the city was long, tiring, and a bit painful, if you were honest. The inside of your thighs were sore from keeping you up right on the animal’s back for hours on end under the blazing heat. You were used to the comfortable back seat of a car, even if the roads here tended to be on the bumpier side. Kim Junmyeon stayed at your side the entire time, up until you were back in your hotel room. All your things were still in there. That was nice, even if it was to be expected. The desk clerk had sworn he would keep the room reserved for you until you made it back. And now that you had, you were on to the next fight.

“We’re not going anywhere!”

Kim Junmyeon pretended not to hear you as he started emptying the dresser drawers of your clothes and stuffing them in your suitcases lying open on the bed.

“Excuse me! I said we’re not going anywhere!” As soon as he stepped away again, you slammed the suitcase shut. A stray white cat that you didn’t have the heart to remove from your room took advantage of the newly available space and laid down on the surface of the luggage. Unbothered by the argument taking place in its presences, it purred as it curled into a ball and closed its eyes.

“You keep using the word ‘we’ and I’m not sure why,” he said. “I believe you were the one who woke him up in the first place.”

“Yes, I get it!” you shouted. “Everyone can blame me because I read the damn book, but that is why we need to stop him.”

He closed the empty drawer and turned back around to face you. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that? You heard Ardeth. No mortal weapon can kill this guy.”

“That’s why we’re going to find some immortal ones.”

He pulled a pair of rounded glasses from his pocket, wiped the lenses with his shirt, and stuck them on the bridge of his nose. “There goes that ‘we’ business again.”

You huffed, trying not to focus on the newest version of the soldier now being presented in front of you. “Yes, we. Because this curse will continue to get worse until the whole world is destroyed.”

“And that’s my problem?”

“It is everybody’s problem! You live here, too!”

Kim Junmyeon stepped up until he was mere inches away. “Listen. I appreciate you saving my life and all, but when I agreed to this idiotic mission my objective was to show you the way and then bring you back here. I have done that. End of job. End of story. Contract terminated.”

You tried not to show how his last few words affected you. Though you had been a little intoxicated two nights ago, you still very much remembered how sweet he had been, how he had listened to you go on and on about your parents and how much you wanted to be a famous adventurer like your father. And how you almost kissed him. And how he was going to kiss you back. Stupidly, you had thought that there was something growing between you. Apparently, you had been wrong.

“Is that all I am to you?” you whispered. “A contract?”

Kim Junmyeon blew out haughtily from his nose. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You waited in hopes that he would contradict you. That he would say, no that was not all you were to him. And it really seemed like he would be saying something along those lines. But other words came out instead.

“Look. You can either come with me or you can try and stay here and save the world. So. What’s it going to be?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “I’m staying.”

“Fine.” He headed for the door.

“Fine,” you bit back, following him.

“Fine,” he threw at you again as he barely glanced over his shoulder.

“Fine!”

He got the last word in before slamming the door to your room shut.

You huffed as you crossed your arms. Yet, as angry as you were, you still hoped that he would come back. That he wouldn’t let you take this on alone. But the footsteps on the other faded away and you were alone.

Looking around your room, you didn’t think there was much you could do. So, you did what you were best at. You grabbed all the books you thought could help you and got to reading.

While sitting in the wicker chair in the corner, you skipped around the books and pages, clinging on to any small word that you thought could lead you to a possible solution. There wasn’t much to be found, unfortunately. Most works spoke of how to perform the Hom-Dai and how it should never be performed due to the curse that awaits should the victim ever be awakened. You already knew that. You needed specifics on what to do after the victim came back.

“(Y/n)!”

Kim Junmyeon came bursting back into your room. You slammed the book in your hands closed, feeling very high and mighty indeed.

“Ah. Mr. Kim. Have you changed your mind?”

“Doesn’t matter now, he’s here!”

“What!”

He didn’t clarify as he hoisted you up out of the chair and pulled you out of the room, and into the hall. Through the windows, you watched in horror as fire fell from the heavens. The balls of flame engulfed anything it touched when it landed, whether it be plant or human life. Turning a corner, Kim Junmyeon ran into a room you knew was occupied by another one of the Americans that you had ran into on your way to Hamunaptra. You gasped.

In the chair, now nothing more than dried, husky skin and hollow bones was… oh, dear you couldn’t remember his name. You hadn’t bothered to learn them. You and Baekhyun had simply referred to them as the “Bloody Americans”. You were feeling a bit awful about that at the moment.

But you didn’t have much time to dwell on that. Standing in front of the fireplace was a new version of the mummy. His skin was starting to come together, though patches were still missing, allowing you to see the gray bone and lack of organs underneath. Kim Junmyeon pulled out both of his guns as the mummy stalked forward.

“We are in deep trouble,” he murmured before opening fire. The loud pops banged on your poor eardrums. You stumbled back a few steps to try and soften their blows. It didn’t work.

The bullets passed through the mummy as if they didn’t exist at all. Even when Oh Sehun and the other Americans came running into the room and firing off their own guns, the mummy still kept going. He shoved Kim Junmyeon back into the others as if he were nothing more than old wrappings. Then he turned on you.

Completely unarmed, you stumbled back until you were betrayed by the bookshelf behind you. There was nowhere to run. Instead of sucking out your liver, however, he spoke.

“You were the one who saved me from the afterlife.” His words were haunting, echoing as if he was speaking in a cavern. And the language he spoke… ancient Egyptian. You weren’t sure why you expected to speak anything else. Coming in closer, he lowered his voice. “I thank you.”

He leaned in his head, those very human eyes lowering to your lips. You turned your head away to try and avoid the kiss, confused as to why he was trying to seduce you.

Sharp, unpleasing notes from the piano pierced through the air. The mummy turned and gasped when he saw the white cat from your room walking across the keys. In a whirl of sand, he fled from the room.

“Oh, thank god,” you said with a heavy breath.

“No kidding,” Kim Junmyeon groaned as he sat up.

You ran to his side, fearful that he might have been injured. “Are you alright, Mr. Kim?”

“Yes,” he huffed. With a very odd expression, he added, “And I told you to call me Junmyeon.”

To be honest, after your fight, you didn’t think you would be allowed to anymore. A strange silence settled between you. He was trying to say something with his gaze, but you couldn’t interpret it. So, instead, you helped him to his feet. “Come on. I know who we need to talk to about all of this.”

It took a while to get back to the museum that had employed you for the past year or so. Every street was full of panicking people. Flames no longer fell from the heavens, but little fires still raged on homes and carts. The Americans had declared that they were coming along, so your group was slower in moving. Although you didn’t really want the mummy bait to be anywhere near you, Junmyeon and Sehun decided that it would be better to keep an eye on them and - hopefully - keep them out of the mummy’s grasp.

“Dr. Bey!” You ran into the museum’s main storage room, happy when you saw the curator. But then you skidded to a stop at the sight that he wasn’t alone.

Ardeth was talking with him in hushed tones that stopped the second you appeared. Both men turned towards you, the curator wearing a very readable expression. It was one that stunk of “I told you so”. The others were only a few steps behind. As soon they, too, saw the unexpected visitor, Junmyeon, Sehun, and the Americans pulled out their guns while Baekhyun simply squeaked in surprise.

“Gentlemen,” Dr. Bey greeted as if this were any old meeting on a Tuesday.

“What is he doing here?” Junmyeon demanded. Even with the black tattoos etched under Ardeth’s eyes, you could tell that he was tired, dark circles from lack of sleep bruising his skin.

Dr. Bey raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to know? Or perhaps you would prefer to just shoot us?”

“Either sounds good.” Junmyeon cocked back the hammer of one of his guns for emphasis.

“Stop it,” you hissed. “Bullets won’t do any good here. Besides, you might damage some of the artifacts.”

Junmyeon failed to suppress a laugh over your concern. Despite the present danger, you still didn’t want to see the carriages or sacred jars damaged because someone got trigger happy. So, Junmyeon holstered his guns and the others soon followed suit. “All right. I’ll give a little faith.”

Dr. Bey motioned for the group to follow him in deeper. “We’re part of a secret society-”

“Aren’t they all?” Baekhyun muttered. Both you and Dr. Bey shot him glares that made him snap his mouth shut.

“For over three thousand years, we have guarded the City of the Dead. Once we reach manhood, we swear an oath to do anything and everything in our power to stop the high priest Imhotep from rising from the grave.”

“And now we have failed. Thanks to you.” Ardeth gave you a particularly pointed look.

By now, you were getting very irritated with the constant finger pointing. What was done was done. You were not going to show him any cowardice. “And that justifies the murder of innocent people?”

“Hm. To stop this creature?” Dr. Bey pretended to think for a moment. “Yes.”

Junmyeon, untroubled by that, raised his hand from the golden seat of a dead royal that he had taken over. “I have a question. Why doesn’t he seem to like cats?”

“Cats are the guardians of the underworld. He will fear them until he reaches full regeneration.”

“Then there will be nothing that he fears.” Worry was very much apparent in the soldier’s voice.

“And you know how he gets regenerated?” one of the Americans asked rhetorically.

The other one finished. “By tracking those of us down who opened the chest and sucking us dry like a nomad in the desert, that’s how!”

It was completely pointless to go over the things that were already known. Now was the time to try and piece the unused parts together. Two particular moments were sticking out in your head.

“Back in Hamunaptra, the priest - Imhotep - he called me Ack-Su-Namun. And then just now at the hotel, he….” You cringed at the memory, thankful that you didn’t have to feel the decomposed skin against your own. “He tried to kiss me.”

“It’s because of Anck-Su-Namun and his love for her that he was cursed,” Dr. Bey explained, exchanging a look with Ardeth. “Even after all this time….”

“He’s still in love with her?” Sehun finished with a scoff.

You appreciated the backstory, however - “As romantic as that is, what does that have to do with me?”

“Perhaps he will try to raise her from the dead once again?” Ardeth guessed.

“Yes,” Dr. Bey agreed solemnly. “And it would seem that he has already chosen his human sacrifice.”

All eyes in the room turned to you. Wonderful.

Not only were you the one who read from the book and raised him, but you would also be responsible for the return of his beloved, who was the reason he was cursed in the first place. Absolutely beautiful.

Baekhuyn came up behind you and patted your shoulder. “That is some rotten luck, dear cousin.”

“Actually, this could work in our favor,” Dr. Bey countered. “It could give us time that we desperately need to kill the creature.”

“We’ll need every second, I think,” Sehun said. He pointed towards the ceiling. “I think he’s getting stronger.”

Through the large window high up on the wall, the sun was in clear view. You all watched in horror as the moon moved too quickly across the sky and blocked the light from reaching Earth.

“I’m guessing this is the plague of darkness?” Baekhyun said ominously. You nodded slowly.

“Let’s go,” Junmyeon said softly beside you, his hand coming up protectively behind your back. “We’ve got to get back to the hotel and come up with a plan.”

“I’m just saying, it seems very stupid to comdem someone to a curse when the result of that would be for them to come back a supernatural creature who is practically unkillable.”

“The ancient Egyptians believed in balance,” you explained to Baekhyun for the hundredth time in your life. “To curse someone so badly in both this life and the next, there has to be a consequence to balance out the scales. If not, then the whole world could still fall apart, in even worse ways!”

“All of this is kind of pointless now, isn’t it?” Sehun sighed from the small table in the antechamber to your room. His feet were up on the polished surface as he leaned back in his seat. A look of irritation was etched on his face as he stared at your cousin. “What’s done is done. Right now, we need to focus on our next step.”

“Well, I know you two,” you pointed to the Americans, “opened the chest. As well as Barney. Was there anyone else?”

“The Egyptologist that was with us,” the shaggier one answered. “Professor Chamberlain. He has a temporary residence a few blocks over.”

“What about my best friend Beni?” Junmyeon asked. You nearly snorted. You knew the two of them were anything but friends.

“No. He ran out before we took the lid off. Ended up saving his own skin.”

“Sounds like Beni,” Junmyeon said dryly. “Okay. We’re going to go get the Professor. You four,” he pointed to all the men, “come with me. You, stay here.”

Oh, no you weren’t. “Excuse me! I am just as capable as any of them are. I will not- What do you think you’re doing!”

Junmyeon marched over to you, picked you up, and carried you over his shoulder until you were in your room. Then he dropped you on the floor, closed the door, and locked it tight. “This door doesn’t open.”

You didn’t know who he said it to, who he left in charge of watching you like an infant. It didn’t matter. You pounded your fist against the solid wood door. “Baekhyun! Junmyeon! Let me out! Baekhyun, you coward! Help me out here!”

“Sorry, cousin!” Baekhyun yelled on the other side of the door. “But… he’s got a gun.”

“Smart choice,” you heard Junmyeon say. Oh, you were going to kill him. Which “him” was yet to be decided. Perhaps both would be most satisfactory.

Well, now you were stuck here.

Crossing your arms, you sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated your choices. Not that you had many.

A yawn forced its way out. You were tired. Over the past few days, you had hardly been able to get any real sleep. And, well, now seemed to be a time. So, you changed into your nightgown and slipped under the covers. The mattress was soft, like a cloud. The pillows were stuffed into freshly cleaned cotton cases. It was barely a few minutes before you drifted off…

And then abruptly woke up to something moving against your mouth. It started out soft but quickly turned ashen and tough. Your eyes flew open and you screamed, the sound muffled by the kiss of Imhotep!

You tried to shove him off, but he didn’t budge. Your touch meant nothing to him as he continued the unwanted kiss.

The door to your room burst open, finally taking his attention and allowing your scream to be heard at full volume. Imhotep’s face was half rotten away, his lips completely gone, the cheeks held together by thin strips of jerky-like skin. You scrambled out of reach, to try and get as far away as the tiny room would allow. The movement caused you to fall out of the bed and land hard on the wood floor.

Standing up, Imhotep said something in ancient Egyptian, but your jumbled, still half-asleep brain couldn’t translate it.

“Oh, really?” Junmyeon mocked. “Here’s my answer.” He held up the poor cat who had saved you earlier, the animal hissing threateningly at the mummy. Just like last time, Imhotep fled in a tornado of sand out the window, terrified of the innocent creature.

“Are you alright?” Junmyeon asked as he let the cat fall from his hands. The cat landed gracefully on its feet and walked over to the bed with more dignity than you’d ever seen a human radiate.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Baekhyun answered. After a glare from Junmyeon, he cleared his throat. “Oh. You weren’t- that’s fine. Go… check on her.” Junmyeon did just that.

Kneeling in front of you, he pushed away a few stray hairs that had fallen in your face. Warm, soft brown eyes searched for any sign of harm. The tips of his fingers brushed against your cheek, setting the skin on fire. Or perhaps that was just the blood rushing up to your face in slight embarrassment. This man made you… nervous in a way. He could be dastardly at times, but… also very sweet.

Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself up to your feet. “I’m fine. A little disgusted, but I’m fine.”

A smirk and knowing gleam flashed on Junmyeon’s face as he rose. “I’m sure mine was better.”

He was referring to the lip-smash he desperately pulled before he was to be dragged to the hangman’s noose. Not exactly the best first impression.

You snorted. “No. I wouldn’t say that.” His jaw went slack. Sehun and Baekhyun snickered behind him. “Did you find the professor?” you asked in order to change the subject.

“Yeah. He stayed out in the sun for a little long by the time we found him.”

“What are you-” Oh. Oh. That was why Imhotep was so far along in his regeneration. He’d found another victim to suck dry.

“And he has the Book of the Dead,” Sehun added. “According to Beni, that’s what he’s going to use to raise Anacsunmum.”

“Anck-Su-Namun,” you corrected.

“Yeah, her.”

You rolled your eyes. Why did you even bother?

You started pacing the room, trying to figure out what would be the best next move. You couldn’t keep playing hide and seek with the cat for all eternity. There needed to be a way to end this. Before he read from the book and raised-

The book…

The book!

You whirled back to the others. “I have an idea!”

“Care to share?”

“The Black book has always been rumored among scholars to be able to bring people back from the dead. Something I had always thought was nonsense,” you added to yourself. “But since that part is true, that means other rumors must be as well. Such as the Gold Book being able to send a soul back to the afterlife.”

“A balance.” Baekhyun looked awfully proud of himself. At least something finally stuck.

“Exactly. Now all we have to do is find out where it's hidden.”

Junmyeon frowned. “But I thought it was supposed to be hidden with Anubis?”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “It comes from a translation of an ancient text. A stone that’s at the museum here, actually. It also says where the Black book was supposed to be hidden. I think they got their translations mixed up. So, where the scholars who originally translated it said that the golden Book of Amun-Ra was in the statue of Anubis, it's actually wherever they said the black Book of the Dead was supposed to be.”

“And where is that?”

You swallowed. “I don’t remember. We’ll have to go to the museum so I can read it again.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Junmyeon checked the barrels of his guns, reloaded the revolvers with bullets from his belt. “Then I guess we’re headed back to the museum. Hopefully we don’t run into Ugly Face before we get to the rock.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you said with the utmost confidence.

Sehun, who did not share that sentiment, looked up towards the ceiling. “Oh joy. Another book hunt.”

#exo #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo fantasy au #exo fantasy!au #junmyeon x reader #junmyeon x fem!reader #kim junmyeon #kim joonmyeon #suho #exo mummy au #exo egypt au #exo 1920s au #byun baekhyun #oh sehun #exo adventure au #Book of the Dead

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savoies · 4 years

Text

I've got you - Kirby Dach.

summary: comforting kirby after his injury.

word count: 988.

warnings: kind of sad at the begining and one sexual innuendo.

a/n: im very happy how it turned out even though i cried a bit while writing it. i hope you guys like it as much i do. enjoy! shoutout to everyone who read it cause i was scared it wasn't good.

Taglist: @hartsyhart @boesxr @mitch-slap @frostythegoalman @kirbysdch @aria253264 @thelionkingpw @damn-dunner-29 @mtkachuk @kaitieskidmore1 @kiedhara @laurenairay @teenagekook @alxvlasic @hockeyallthetime @barzy-baby @bigboigritty @puckshitbitch @bowenbyram @mems06 @colecaufields @connormcdavo @maattamatthews @jdrysdales @selenophileangel .

tagging some friends: @kempe @folkloreflyers @bestestbenn @vinceduhn @tkachuk-yeah .

(*credit to the gif owner*)

Kirby paced his hotel room as he waited for what the doctor’s next step was. His thoughts ate him up. He had a feeling in his stomach, a bad feeling, that what the doctors were gonna tell him was not good.

He decided to call you. It was one hour later in Chicago but, knowing you, you had probably been watching the game and realized what happened.

And yes Kirby was right. You sat still looking at your screen, wanting to know what was wrong with your boyfriend as he skated off the ice as his teammates continued to play. Your eyes fixated on the illuminating screen. You snapped out of your trance as you heard your phone ringing. Kirby's contact flashed across the screen and your stomach dropped at the sign of him calling you in the middle of a game.

"Hello?" You spoke up, wanting to know what was going on.

"Hi." Kirby spoke up softly. "I just needed to hear your voice."

"What happened?" You asked.

"Well, they're not sure if I can still play. But honestly, looking at the way it is and feels I don't think playing is an option right now." He said sadly.

"Oh." You said on the other side of the line, not really forming words since you really couldn't say much. This was Kirby's dream. Playing for Team Canada. Being Team Canada's captain and it seemed that, just like that, it was being taken away from him right in front of his eyes.

There was a knock on the door. Probably one of the doctors coming to tell him the news he probably didn't want to hear. "I'll be right back." He spoke into the phone as he put it on the bed and rushed to the door.

Muffled conversation was heard as you waited for Kirby to pick up the phone and tell you what the outcome was. But as he grabbed the phone he didn't need to tell you. The look on his face said it all. His eyes glossy as he tried not to cry.

"I'm going back to Chicago." He forced a small smile.

"Baby." You looked at him. Being twenty six hours away and not being able to wrap your hands around him was the worst. All you wanted to do was comfort him. And all you could really do was give "encouraging" words that everything would be okay, but you had no idea at all what it felt like. Nothing you said would be able to make the things Kirby was feeling go away. But for now, all you could do was offer your presence through the view of a phone screen.

~~~~

Kirby was coming back to Chicago. Not the way he hoped, but at least he wouldn't be alone as he recovered. He was gonna be spending it with Adam.

Adam had gone to pick him up from the airport and now they had spent the whole day playing video games. He texted you every so often. Having withdrawals knowing that now you were only a few minutes away instead of hours. You wanted to see Kirby really badly, but had some work and school to do so you decided to pick him up from Adam's since he was coming over to your house the next day anyways. After talking to Adam, he had promised to keep it a secret that you were coming, of course with the promise of pizza.

So here you stood in front of Adam's door as you knocked three times, waiting to see him.

The door opened and it revealed your boyfriend with disheveled hair and a tired look on his face. "No fucking way." He said as he wrapped his hands around you and buried his head into your neck. "I missed you." He mumbled softly into your neck.

"I missed you too, bub." You said as the hug got even tighter as if one of you would disappear if you let go even a bit.

"I love you so much." He whispered in your ear. He placed a soft kiss on your lips, you kissing back as you missed the warmth of having him so close. "I love you."

~~~

Both of you laid sprawled out in bed, legs and arms tangled together catching up on lost time. Grasping what you had missed the last couple of weeks.

Both laying as close to each other as humanly possible. You ran your hand up and down his chest.

"You know I'm really proud of you right?" You looked up at him.

His eyes filled with doubt. With how he was the captain and he couldn't even carry his team. It seemed as though his team had to carry him instead. It seemed as though his team was out in Edmonton playing as he lay here in Chicago, not doing anything. What a great captain, he thought.

You saw it. The way he questioned himself. His abilities. What he could've done better.

"Tell me what you are thinking, you couldn't have done anything differently Kirbs."

For the next hours, as midnight grew into one am then two, he talked. Talked about how he felt like he failed his team, talked about everything he was feeling, and you listened.

Kirby was dedicated. He wanted the best for this team and even though he wasn't put in Canada he was going to do his best to be supporting them every step of the way.

"You know I love you right." He said as both of you were quite behind on a few hours of sleep.

"I love you too." The next few hours before the sun rose were spent in each other's arms as he talked about the boys and what he liked and what annoyed him about them, what he did during his free time, and lastly just enjoying each other's presence knowing that you'd always have each other.

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razorblade180 · 4 years

Text

Interdimensional Moms: part 1

Intro <-

Yang:So how we doin this? Drawing straws or... well we actually don’t have straws here so-

Weiss:It’s obvious that you wanna go first.

Blake:Extremely obvious.

Ruby:All over your face.

Yang:Hey now, don’t call me out like that! We all have so much to sort out here. I don’t even know where to begin. Differences could start and stop anywhere for all we really know.

Blake:From what it seems, Beacon itself would have one or two minor changes, but the real changes start after the fall. At least, for you three that is.

Weiss:You saying you’re different?

Blake:Unless you three started going on dates with Jaune at Beacon, then yes, I’m different.

RWY:(They’ve been together that long!?)

Yang:Okay, starting from Beacon...nothing really stands out too much. Jaune and I were just friends. *cringes* Back then, a certain faunus caught my eye.

Blake:Ah...right. I guess that tracks in practically every universe.

RW:Oh yeah it does. You two are joined at the hip.

Yang:Haha, really? Glad to hear it. My Blake and I are best buds! Remnant has never seen such a dynamic duo! Can’t say it didn’t take a lot of time effort after a rough patch. We actually dated in my world.

Blake:Same.

Yang:What!? How long?

Blake:I don’t know, it was pretty on again off again.

Yang:Well for me it was after Haven. Both of us had gotten pretty serious. All the growing we’ve done together and apart had brought us closer. However, Adam unintentionally put a wedge between us. His attempt to change and the problems that came with it were-

Yang stopped midway and saw the confused faces of her otherworldly teammates. They were shocked, confused even. Especially Blake, who looked the most shocked of all.

Yang:Umm did I say something odd?

Blake:Adam, he...isn’t dead?

Yang:Oh, well I guess that’s the start of the major changes then. Blake and I fought Adam at Argus. Stabbed him through the chest and watched him fall down rocks into a river.

Ruby:That lines you with my world. Dude died that day. Like any normal person should.

Yang:Well Adam is anything but fucking normal. Man has the craziest luck. A young women, the winter maiden in fact, she saved his life. She’s not exactly normal either. The maiden, Jacquelyn, ended up sticking by him to see if she could change his ways. This naturally meant we’d run into them again. And that’s how things fell apart.

Blake:What do you mean?

Yang:You were fully committed to seeing if Adam could actually change. I wasn’t, so we constantly butted heads in any situation involving him. Then we would fight about things that had nothing to do with at all. Eventually, we broke it off. We remained on decent terms but I was pretty heartbroken about the disconnect. Enter our lovable blonde idiot. Jaune did everything in his power to cheer me up.

Weiss:Sounds like him. Always such a bleeding heart. That boy just can’t help himself. Let me guess, his kindness and concern made you feel all warm and fuzzy?

Yang:Hehe, guilty. It was more of his willingness to laugh at my puns. Jaune’s always been interesting to talk to. He tries to act cool and calm even though he’s terrible at it, then comes clean right after. Before I knew it I was telling him things I hadn’t talked about with people before. I could tell he looked at me like most guys do, but also genuinely wanted to listen to me. Talk about playing unfair; he got defenseless. Suddenly I was smiling again. Anytime with him was time well spent. Then one day, I kissed him.

Ruby:Happily ever after?

Yang:Not even close! Hahaha!

Weiss:Why do you sound proud?

Yang:It’s funny looking back at it to a certain degree. Gods, I was such a brat. More than a few fights are on me. Between Blake, Raven, and other experiences, my insecurities flared up in ugly ways over nothing. It even got us to break up too. I was officially done with dating. My Ruby was out in an uncomfortable position.

Ruby:I bet! I’d never want you two fighting. Especially in my world. Picking between the person I love and my sister!? I don’t know what will happen.

Yang:I kinda do. *sets up* You’d start dating Jaune because you’ve looked at him since Beacon. The two of you would confide in each other and share a special kind of love, but it would be bittersweet. All because your sister still pines for him and never met to make him leave, and Jaune never says it, but he hates how things fell apart. He’s faithful to you and would never do you wrong, a guy to truly cherish. So... you let him go. Watch him walk back to your sister like you asked, because my happiness was worth that much to you.

Ruby:....

Yang: In my world at least. Honestly it’s still the most amazing thing I’ve seen you do. We must’ve cried over that conversation for hours. I felt so guilty and you only smiled, hugging me tight. Jaune and I had a few more stumbles. Nothing serious though. Eventually we moved in together when the world was saved. You and Oscar got together officially which made me happy. Even made our weddings a competition of who’d make dad bawl his eyes out the most. You won by the way; Raven came back into our family and into dad’s arms. Last but not least I had a baby. Yujin Xiao Long, my fucking pride and joy from above.

Weiss:Wow, that’s a lot.

Blake:What am I doing? Did I marry Sun?

Yang:Yep. You and blondes Blake, I tell ya.

Weiss:Hold the phone! Who am I with!?

Yang:Pretty sure you’re technically single. Buuuut, Neo and your have gotten pretty friendly from what I managed to interrogate out of you.

Weiss:That’s, highly unexpected. For a number of reasons.

Yang:Better believe it. Besides Cinder, a few crazies, and Salem, a few people made something of themselves. Dying sucks after all.

Ruby:You have a dead Cinder?

WBY: You don’t?

Ruby:*crosses arms* Hmph, I’ll wait my turn. Yang, you said you’re the only mother from our team. If Blake and I have been married for quite some time then what, we don’t want kids?

The joyful sunshine from Yang slipped into grayer skies. Her smile faded and it increasingly got harder to look at this Ruby without thinking of her own.

Yang:Are you sure that’s something you wanna know? I’ll tell you, but I didn’t want to bring down the mood with the problems where I from.

Blake:Problems? How big of a problem.

Yang:The biggest we’ve faced. It’s...a lot.

Ruby:Well we’ve listened this far. *takes hand* Lay it on us.

Yang:Pfft, oh boy. So...umm...another secret war came up. One that caused us to leave our friends and family for over a decade.

Weiss:A decade!?

Blake:What gets worse after Salem!? Who tries anything after a grimm queen!?

Yang:So a majority of Remnant was still unaware of her, but a fight like that can only be kept under wraps so tightly. Plenty of people still learned fractions of the truth. A few of those people weren’t exactly nice guys. They idolized her efforts and became her followers that wanted to keep her will alive, starting with taking revenge on the people who defeated her. We were so unaware. So caught up in normalcy. They ambushed us, and I mean everyone. We...we didn’t come out unscathed. Ren was crippled badly. Weiss, you almost your brother. Jaune’s family got hit but thankfully lived. The real casualties were aimed to hurt Ruby.

Ruby:Oh, of course. S-So, either you’re about to say I had no time to start a family, or...

Yang:...

Yang:When I tell you the look you made when you learned what happened to Oscar, to Qrow... that’s the moment it felt like my little sister left forever. Till this day you don’t smile like you used to. Very recently, now that it’s finally over, you’ve started looking better, but those ten years were hell. We choose to go out and fight again, avoiding contact with family. I haven’t had a real opportunity to be in my daughters life.

Ruby:How old is she?

Yang:Sixteen soon. Left her when she was four so you know. *tearing up* I missed everything. Just about anyways. Ironically it was Raven and Adam that helped her through the years with Jaune and Dad. Eventually we came back and ooohh boy was Yujin not thrilled in the slightest. Hehehe. Her right hook is really strong. I only had about a week with her before things got complicated again. *wipes eyes* But it’s okay. We left on good term. Something I definitely don’t feel like I deserve.

Blake:I can’t believe a thing like that would be possible.

Yang:Cults are a huge problem in Remnant now. You’re definitely aware of that. You actually oversee a little group from the shadows to deal with them in secret. An idea you got from experience. Adam works for you and everything. Hate to admit, but he’s become the guy you wanted him to be. Even has a family. I’m grateful to him. He personally kept my girl safe.

Blake:To think I’d hear you say that. Now I know this isn’t my world.

Yang:Don’t get me wrong, I still will hit him if given the chance. My life hasn’t been charmed and sacrifices too great were happening way too many times but it finally has gotten to a point where everyone feels like we’re taking steps towards a better future.

Weiss:Moving forward?

Yang:Yes, I was trying to avoid the phrase but yes Weiss, we’re moving forward. Still... *looks at Ruby*....

Ruby:W-What?

Yang:It’s unreal seeing you like this. My Ruby has become so strong and endured but hasn’t really picked herself up completely. All her tragedy stemmed from the loss of Oscar and Qrow; her last talk with Oscar was fight about kids too. That’s the entire reason she went off alone in the first place. Looking at you I can’t help but question my own choices. If...I just let her stay with Jaune, then maybe-

Ruby:Nope.

Yang:Huh?

Ruby:Look, if I know anything about your world, then it’s gonna be me and I can tell you without a doubt your Ruby doesn’t blame or would consider her own happiness without you. She loved you enough to take the chance to find love again. You really think there’s anything you could’ve done differently at that point. That girl is as stubborn as they come! *smiles* So buck up cowgirl. You deserve it.

A sense of warmth came over Yang as she heard those words. This other Ruby smiled at her with the same love as her own; completely caring about Yang’s feeling before her own. Yang felt so...unburdened. She couldn’t help but cry a little, laughing softly as she did. Who would’ve thought love could transcend worlds? It was so vindicating, therapeutic even.

Yang:Ruby, you’re something else entirely, you know that?

Ruby:It’s my curse. All I ever wanted was normal knees but the world said “no, special eyes!”

Yang:Well I guess I should thank the world then?

Weiss:You said your Ruby is getting better? That’s good. Still, it must be pretty weird looking at Jaune. Can’t imagine how lonely it must feel losing a love twice.

Blake:It never numbs.

Yang:Geez you two, lighten up. We can’t all be depressed. Ruby also didn’t lose Jaune. Actually....there may or may not have been an interesting...arrangement for a brief period of time.

Ruby:Ehhh what?

Yang:Hehehe well, hahaha, ummmm a decade is a very long time without feeling any kind of pleasure in a bleak situation. And you know me, I have to share things with you all my life.

Ruby:OH MY GOD!!!

Blake:*grinning* Yooooo! You loaned out Jaune!?

Weiss:That’s....accurate; in a lot of ways.

Ruby:That’s so scandalous! How could you!?

Yang:I didn’t force it! I gave the option, you said no, then you changed your mind because things got real stressful. Like come on, a decade of death and loneliness.

Ruby:Sigh...yeah. I can see it. Still, it’s so filthy. He’s a married man. What, so I’d just look at you and say “Yang I’m gonna sleep with Jaune, don’t come in the room.”

Yang:....

Ruby:What?

Yang:....Nothing.

Ruby:Bullshit! What is it!?

Yang:*scratches head* Well, I was lonely too, and a week is only so long-

Weiss:Oh so it was a group thing!!?

Ruby:WHAT!?

Yang:Only sometimes!

Ruby:SOMETIMES!?

Blake:HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! THAT IS AMAZING!

Ruby:Why are you laughing!?

Blake:Because that’s just so extreme, and not, all at the same time. I could totally see that happening.

Weiss:Same. Dang, Jaune slept with sisters. That’s dangerously close to being like your dad.

Ruby:That’s different!

Blake:Is it though?

Yang:Eh, I don’t see the problem. We’re all grown and make choices. Plus I’m the one who guided you through awkward teenage changes. It not like we didn’t share a room for years.

Ruby:That doesn’t make it okay.

Yang:Eh debatable.

Ruby:*red* It isn’t though! How could I do something so bold!? So taboo!?

Weiss:It isn’t like you’re the one who did it. Just a version of you.

Ruby:Not better!

Yang:Awwww it’s okay Ruby. Let’s hug it out. Hehehe *opens arms*

Ruby:Don’t touch me!

Weiss and Blake laugh until their sides hurt as Ruby tries escaping the bear hug that terrorized her. Yang’s world found interesting for sure. Weiss finally decides to help Ruby out.

Weiss:Got a picture of Yujin?

Yang’s eyes lit up and pulled out her scroll. Her team huddled around her and collectively cooed like that parents they are at the sight of a blonde young girl with gorgeous blue eyes with a black combat school graduation cap and gown and a certificate proudly raised up high. If it wasn’t for those eyes and shoulders length hair, they might’ve mistaken her for Yang.

Yang:She’s going to Beacon early because she’s fucking awesome like her mom.

Ruby:I think you mean her aunt?

Yang:I know what I said.

Weiss:I bet she’s just as hardheaded.

Blake:What do you think your kid is up to right now?

Yang: Well...*smiles*

xxxx

The girl in question sat at a work bench with oil on her face and her hands busy tinkering with gauntlets. She looked over at blueprints in a journal. If they were right, then she was definitely doing something wrong. How her mother made something so complex was crazy!

Yujin:Come on Yujin. You can fix a car, making gauntlets into a sword that don’t break should be easy!

Footsteps came up from behind her and a plate stacked with sandwiches. She looked up and smiled at her dad that gave her a wink, then kissed her forehead.

Jaune:Haveing fun, you grease monkey.

Yujin:Jokes on you, I like monkeys. Just a few more attempts and I’ll have the coolest weapon in Remnant. That entrance exam is as good as aced.

Jaune:Not if you don’t have a landing strategy. Tomorrow we’re going on a trip.

Yujin:Does it happen to be near a cliff?

Jaune:Who can say? Rule one of being a huntsman, be prepared for everything.

He ruffled her hair and left, laughing evilly. Yujin could tell he’s been waiting for this day. She pulled out her scroll and searched through a collection of videos labeled “mom” and found a super early one. She hit play and watched her mother give a peace sign to the camera as trees increasingly got closer from below.

Yang:Beacon rules!!!! Wooohooo!

The camera flipped and focused on a familiar blonde flailing through the air like a doll in the distance.

Yang:Oof, hate to be that guy! Wait, that’s vomit boy! Hahah, hope he survives. He owes me shoes. Poor dude. I guess he needs more training in flirting and landing. Wait, eugh I think he barfed again! Hahaha!

Jaune:Stop watching that one!!!!

Yujin:Hahaha but it’s the best one. The ending is priceless.

Jaune: *walks back down*

Yang:Well if he survives this I guess I can off him at least I can offer him mints and company. Fake it to ya make Jaune. Between me and Ruby, at least you’ll look like a player. Heh, nah, I don’t think I can support a bunny onesie.

Yujin and Jaune:*grinning* And then she did! *high-fives* Arc charm, baby!

#rwby #rwby au #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #rwby dragonslayer #yujin xiao long #rwby lasting embers

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