#but yeah their content is always very much WORTH paying for so it stuns me that we often don’t have to

[isogenderskitty]

i’ve been a starkid fan since about 2011 and i still am a little in shock that so much of their content is just… free. on youtube.

considering how much work they put into everything they do and how inspiring they are… idk i just… truly no one is doing it like them and i hope they can keep doing it for a long time

[casspurrjoybellbittner]

Wreckless - Explorers

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

Finnegan is amazing.

Thursday and all of yesterday he took really good care of me.

He even cooked.

This morning he decided that we could bump me up to 'light physical activity' and gave me an amazing blow job.

I've showered and then yes, napped but now I'm all his.

He wants to buy a car.

I get that he has very little time and I want to help him so a car it is even though it's not how I prefer to spend my Saturday afternoons.

Besides, I need to get out of this house.

"Thanks for coming, Emmett. Did you and Peter decide about yours?"

"Yeah, it's not worth fixing. There was so much wrong before and this is just... yeah. To the scrap heap."

"I'm sorry. Are you sure you feel up to going?"

Of course.

"Yeah, as long as I don't have to do any driving."

"Absolutely not, not until Monday at the earliest."

"It'll be Monday, I have to go to work."

He just huffs.

I'm going to have to do some figuring and looking and see if I can get myself a new car.

Well, not new, new to me.

Something that runs.

It's a shame to because I had been seriously considering taking that photography course.

I figured we'd be in a house by then and if I don't have to pay the mortgage because it's being rented out, I could sneak two weeks off of work.

Now that's not going to happen.

I took a Tylenol earlier but I can still tell I'm feeling a ton better because I can actually keep my eyes open as we're driving down the street.

I don't know where the nearest BMW dealership is but that doesn't matter because we end up in a Ford lot.

"Are you going to get another one of these?"

He talked about it on the drive to the beach.

"Yeah, unless there's something out there better?"

"Nah, this one is nice. Keep it simple."

Not that this car is simple, it's great but if he knows he likes this one, why drive all over looking around?

He immediately gets accosted by a salesman who's about to become his best friend because Finnegan just points to the rental and says he wants one just like it with all the bells and whistles.

Does it have side curtain airbags?

Yes, yes it does.

What about OnStar? Yes.

Does it come in a hybrid?

I didn't see that one coming but yes, it does.

Not in the model Finn wants though, only in the mid-range.

But apparently the really nice one has eco-boost and that's good enough for him.

We're walking towards the showroom when he asks...

"What color should we get? Stick with black?"

"Black is boring but safe and very presidential. The blue is sweet."

And it is.

It reflects the light and makes the trim pop out.

"Do you have one in stock in blue?" he asks his new bestie.

That the salesman has to check.

Apparently they have a blue hybrid but it doesn't have the top of the line stereo system in it or the premium electronic package with the ipod in the dash.

"That doesn't bother me Emmett, what about you?"

Since my stereo hasn't worked for two years, I'm not one to complain about only having eight speakers and not fourteen.

"I think it'll be fine without but you can always keep the rental another week if you want, I'm sure they can order it. But hey, heated steering wheel, Finnegan. Not just remote start and heated seats, nah, that's not enough. Warm hands."

It's insane.

"Nah, we'll take this one. Credit okay?"

He's literally going to charge a car.

A very expensive hybrid SUV that costs more than half of what my house did.

I would blame the concussion for not hearing him right except it doesn't surprise me that much.

Finn is filling things out and things are getting printed and he takes the paper and slides it towards me.

"You need to sign this one."

"Why?"

"Because it's yours."

I'm stunned but the salesman fills the silence.

"I'll need your license, too."

Now they're both looking at me and I somehow have a pen in my hand.

What?

"What? Mine? Um... Finnegan..."

"Do you want something else?"

No, that is not the issue here.

"You can't buy me a car."

"I beg to differ. Besides, you need one, don't you? And we need something big enough for our beach trips. Please."

I'm looking down and flipping because I'm pretending to read so I don't have to answer.

And then I see the price.

Not half my house, almost as much.

Granted, this is a fine piece of machinery and my house was pretty much a shithole when I bought it. Still.

"It's... Finnegan, do you see the price?"

He just shrugs. Shrugs.

As if it's not ridiculous.

"You need something safe. I don't want you getting hurt again, Emmett."

"I can be safe for a quarter of this money."

Oh, bestie doesn't like that.

"We can get that price down for you."

That's just fueling Finnegan's decision.

"See? It's fine. Emmett, let me do this for you. You need something reliable to bring me lunches and take me to the beach. You deserve it."

I've been giving a lot of thought to moving in with Finnegan and him buying the house and everything that's involved with that and I'm getting used to it.

It doesn't sting quite as much now but this?

Wow, this is something else.

This car is worth more than all of my other cars put together that is not an exaggeration.

I've only ever had two and the first one I got for three grand and the newest one I paid about seven for.

This car is sixty thousand dollars.

Sixty. Thousand. American Dollars.

"Please sign it, Emmett."

He tells the salesman that it would be nice if someone brought it around and that he'll need to leave his rental here over the weekend.

Oh no, they're happy to return it for him.

I guess so, they'd probably lick his shoes and his balls at this point.

"What are you going to drive?"

If they're keeping his rental...

"I ordered the roadster yesterday and they're dropping it off this afternoon. Had to drive it up from D.C."

He orders cars like I ordered pizza.

"The roadster cost more than this, if that makes you feel any better. I got the convertible." 

Of course he did.

"Besides, I owe you a birthday present."

A car is not a birthday present. 

Is he gonna put a bow on it like those stupid commercials at Christmas? 

Mr. Salesman has excused himself.

He wants us to sort this out and it's nice of him to give us some privacy.

"The lower model, the hybrid. I want that one instead."

It's gotta be cheaper and there's been enough blood shed over oil.

"Besides, that's not the right blue," I tell him, looking at the one they just drove up.

It's a lighter blue, not the deep metallic that I like.

"Whatever you wish, Emmett."

The salesman comes back and Finnegan leans back in his chair.

"Make him happy," he says, leaning his head towards me.

"Sell it to him and then swipe my card."

It takes us another half hour but I love the new one so much that I wish I could drive it home.

Finnegan jokes that he may never get another chance and I can tell he loves it too.

It's a big step up from our rental... all the things I loved are the same but now we have ass warmers and leather seats and plenty of bells and whistles for my taste.

"Thanks Finnegan, you didn't have to do this."

"I know but I wanted to and isn't that the best reason?"

Maybe. 

"Promise me you'll be careful, please? I don't want you meeting other guys by crashing into them like you did me."

"You hit me."

"Emmett, you're a wreck magnet. Wreckless," he jokes. 

"Too soon?"

"Bite me."

[spacedikut]

“let me do this for you. please.” ; aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner (criminal minds) x reader

summary: it’s left to you to help aaron with his injury. taken from this prompt list - 1781 words

a/n: this is kind of shitty trash but i wanted to add to the one hotch fic ive written

Aaron Hotchner, in all his glory, is more often than not described as strict. Maybe even grumpy.

It takes less than one conversation with the unit chief to fully understand this, sometimes all it takes is witnessing the way he walks and holds himself, and he’s become somewhat notorious for it.

However, you know more about Hotch than the average person. More than either of you care to admit. For a while you were certain he hated you, definitely didn’t trust you, despite being highly trained and told again and again by your team that that’s just how Hotch is. Emily, especially, pulled you aside to tell you she was also victim to his cold persona at the beginning.

It takes time, she’d said, but he’ll warm up to you. He won’t be able to resist.

It all changed when he appeared at your apartment door several hours after you’d been discharged from the hospital following a gnarly gunshot wound to your shoulder. He stood there, with his famous furrowed brows, straight-mouth look on his face, cradling a basket. He’d made you a ‘get well soon’ package – your favourite candy (he knew that?), some DVDs (including your favourite – he knew that?), and his favourite book (written by your favourite author). There were fluffy socks and a colouring book, too.

“I couldn’t visit you in the hospital,” He’d said, “So Jack and I made you a gift basket. He chose the colouring book.”

In your stunned silence you didn’t ask any further questions, just took the present and contemplated getting shot again in hopes he would pay another visit, maybe come inside. Maybe fall in love with you. You’re not picky.

That night you realised your unit chief doesn’t hate you and you definitely don’t hate your unit chief.

Now, almost a year later, there’s been some big changes. You’re pushing Aaron onto his bed as he grips the top of his bleeding forearm; he’s mumbling curses under his breath while pouting – yes, pouting, no matter how much he’ll deny it when you tease him about it later. It had taken you raising your voice at him to convince him to let you help at all, let alone clean the cut, so you allow his brooding.

When you sit on your heels of his bedroom floor in front of him, he instinctively opens his mouth to, once again, say something along the lines of, “You don’t have to do this,” or “I can look after myself.”

You interrupt before he can even begin.

“If you refuse to go to the hospital, refuse to let an on-site medic come to you, you’re gonna let me help you, you got that?” You snap, fuelled by worry and frustration.

On the scene he’d refused medical attention, telling the medics to focus on the victims which, fair enough, was valid. But then Rossi had tried to drive him to the hospital, to get stitched up because anyone could see the cut on his arm needed it, and he’d argued and argued to the point where Rossi shoved him into your car and said, “You take him. He’s being a child and I am too old for this.”

He kept telling you to just drop him off home and he’ll be fine, but you couldn’t do that. You have a medical background; you’ve stitched up everyone on the team at least once, excluding Hotch, and you’ll get peace of mind if you do the job and know he’s okay.

You followed him inside, he kept telling you to go home because he’s fully capable, and you kept telling him to shut up. Now you’re here.

Aaron says nothing in return – just stares into your eyes and maintains a tight, strained posture.

You recognise the look in his eyes, then. Everything clicks into place in your head and your heart hurts slightly.

“Let me do this for you. Please.”

Aaron is a leader. A protector. He always has been. He trusts his team with his life, of course he does, but he’s also stubborn. The idea of anyone, let alone the one person who’s somehow wormed their way into his life in a way he hadn’t prepared for, seeing him so vulnerable after a stupid mistake led to an even stupider injury is downright humiliating for him.

He’s embarrassed. He hoped he could sulk home, drink a little too much whiskey as he clumsily cleaned himself up, and move on like nothing happened.

But it’s you, all non-judgemental eyes and worried tone with your caring and reassuring words. You’re too good for him. You’re too good to him.

You work slowly and gently, in a very you way, and Hotch watches closely the entire time. You assume he’s watching so he can do it himself next time, can use this as an excuse for you to not do this ever again, but a part of you wonders if he still doesn’t trust you.

He sits patiently, until he realises how much blood he’s lost and starts to feel woozy. It’s very possible he has a concussion, too, along with the exhaustion from not sleeping for at least twenty four hours. His head feels like it’s swimming and his vision gets a little blurry.

You notice him swaying and stop what you’re doing to hold his biceps to steady him. His eyes almost roll, but he seems to jolt himself out of it. Aaron has this disturbing ability to act as if nothing bad is happening – for example, right now. The blood loss is alarming, he just almost passed out, but it’s like he flicks a switch in his brain that decides nah, let’s not do that.

“You okay?” You ask, voice quiet.

He nods and mumbles, “Yeah. Brain almost collapsed.”

You think that’s an attempt at a joke. You’re too concerned to laugh, even fake it, and slowly move your arms back to the med kit you’re rifling through.

“Brain dumb.” He adds.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes. Aaron surprises himself by wanting to cry at how beautiful you look.

“My name’s Aaron. You should call me it.”

You laugh quietly – the blood loss is beginning to get to him and he’s losing his professional barrier. The barrier that he lets down rarely, usually only when he’s in the comfort of his home, maybe relaxing with you and Jack. This is a special version of that, amplified by his injury.

“I’ll call you Aaron, then.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s alright, Aaron.”

He goes back to watching you, contentment coming off him in waves.

You’re done a few minutes later, Aaron’s cut all cleaned and stitched up. You wrap it in gauze and move the med kit aside, standing before him and sighing, hands on your hips.

“Alright. Bed time.” You say.

Aaron flops back on his bed, arms spread – it makes you giggle. It reminds you of the one time you had to bring drunk Hotch home.

“Move up, Aaron. Against your headboard.” You command.

As he moves, you grab some of the pillows he doesn’t use and place them under his legs to elevate them. You go to his ensuite and fill a glass of water, placing it on his bedside table, and look at the handsome unit chief seemingly asleep. You lean in closer to get a look at his condition – is he pale, cold, clammy?

His eyes snap open. You jump back in shock.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” His voice is rough, he’d almost fallen asleep, and his dimples begin to show when he smiles at your surprise.

“I’ll always take care of you, Aaron.” You say instantly, trying to fluff the pillow behind his head. You don’t realise what you do to him, he thinks, or what the things you say do to him.

“Let me take care of you, too.”

You smile, ignorant to the way he’s looking at you, “You do take care of me. You take great care of the whole team, A. You’re kind of amazing at it.”

You move to tuck him in, like you’ve watched him do to Jack many times.

“I mean-“ He stops you, large hands holding your wrists, “Let me take care of you. No one else.”

Your brows furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Me, Aaron, take care of you, Y/N.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“I can take care of you.”

“Yeah, I know,” You laugh at the situation, the ridiculousness of how you’re going in circles, “I just told you that you take great care of me.”

He lets out a deep breath in exasperation, “Let me take care of you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That sounds sexual, sir.”

“Oh. No, I didn’t mean it-“ He cuts himself off, “I mean, yes, but no, at the same time.”

You open your mouth to say What?!

“I’m trying to ask you out, Y/N.”

Oh.

You’re stunned, to say the least, and speechless. There’s nothing more you’d like than to go on a date with him, but he’s… vulnerable right now. Fragile. You’re not sure he’s in the right state of mind for this conversation.

Hotch senses your hesitation before you even register it yourself. He begins to backtrack.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s inappropriate-“

“Aaron.”

“Yes?” Despite the look on your face, filled with doubt, he’s still hopeful.

“I would really like to go on a date with you.” He smiles at that. “But you’ve lost a lot of blood and you’re concussed AND you’re exhausted. I can’t take what you say now as, like, gospel.”

He nod as if he understands, but the concoction of ailments he’s got going on make him incapable of truly recognising what’s going on. All he knows is that you said you’d really like to go out with him, and that’s good enough for him.

“Say this again tomorrow and I promise you I’ll make it worth your while,” You grin, now smoothing his hair away from his face as he blinks slowly at you.

“Make it worth my while, huh?” He sleepily smirks, a teasing lilt to his voice. If he wasn’t on the brink of sleep you’re sure he’d look too good for you to handle, but now he just looks adorable.

“Oh yeah. So worth it.”

“Alright then. Night night. You can kiss me on the forehead, if you feel so inclined,”

You roll your eyes and give a big sigh jokingly, “Only because you’re injured.”

You lean, give a quick peck to his forehead, and his dazed gaze follows you like a magnet.

“See you tomorrow, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron.”

[shorkbrian]

Give in to Love

so I have several thots about this. Like with Kiri, he would be like, relieved you’re being submissive but then he’d become like super depressed that you aren’t like idk seeming to live in your body, like you’re just a husk and he’d get so worried and sad and pamper you with so much love.

Yeah so aside from Kiri, a yan that I imagine this type of scenario is with someone like Victor Nikiforov from YOI 

yes. This Bitch right here.

So first fucking off, he’s rich. Money is no problem for him.

Second off, he’s so confident that he would not hesitate to do whatever he wanted.

Third, he’s actually pretty kind (especially to pretty, vulnerable little things like you)

It’d probably start out with the man spilling coffee all over you or something SUPER cliche like that. 

(Warnings - not much. NSFW but only the teeniest tiniest bit. barely even a mention. but obvs Yandere, dub con, dark content.)

He’s in a rush, he was bursting out of the coffee-shop, you just so happened to be walking by and in the direct path of the door and so smacks into you, knocking you onto your butt.

Immediately, you’re being helped up by a silver haired man, he’s apologizing heavily, patting your clothes into place, smoothing your hair, steadying you onto your feet. He’s so sorry, he didn’t even see you! And then the man stops, looks at you, smiles blindingly and blurts out that you’re pretty.

You’re understandably stunned. but you quickly just brush it off, his accent is foreign, it’s probably just a cultural thing. 

Then he’s offering to buy you something to make up for him trying to give you a concussion, asking if you like coffee, sweets, maybe a sweater? You look cold.

And you’re just so tired, life is exhausting, you don’t really even care anymore what happens to you. You don’t protest as the man doesn’t wait for an answer, immediately grabbing your hand and marching you into the coffee shop he had just burst out of.

“Pick anything you’d like, my treat! An apology for not paying attention to such a beautiful thing.” He smiles, gesturing at the menu.

You study it for a second, but there’s too many choices, and it’d just be easier if you didn’t have to, and you’re so used to people telling you what to do and making decisions for you and you’re lost. Where do you even start?

After a few moments of silence, the man (who's been not-so-subtly watching you as you deliberate) speaks up. “Can I pick? I LOVE their raspberry cheesecake! So good!”

It sounds fine, and you’re somewhat relieved that he was going to choose, take the burden of responsibility off of your shoulders.

He buys one of the giant slices, ushers you to table, sits you down. The man watches you take a bite, his face lighting up and giving a little clap when you give a thumbs up. He has his own fork, and he takes bits and pieces here and there from the slice. While you eat, he talks.

His name is Victor, he’s from Russia, are you from around here? What’s your name? 

“That’s such a pretty name!” He says your name once, twice, rolling it around in his mouth like it’s something to savor. 

Victor is a ball of energy, confident, full of life. He’s frankly an intimidating man, with how attractive he is, the obviously expensive suit he wears, the way he dominates the conversation and expertly handles your awkward silences and uncomfortable pauses.

By the time you leave, he’s entered his number into your phone, quickly scrolling to find your own number (even though he was only supposed to put in his own - but you really didn’t care) and note it down.

You’re pretty sure he won’t actually be texting or calling you - he was just being polite, feigning interest in someone as boring and pathetic as yourself.

Lo-and-behold, that evening you get a notification that “Vitya! (:” has texted you.

Hello! Is your body feeling alright?

Immediately confused, you send out a reply

Who is this?

It’s Victor!!! From the coffeeshop, haha. 

Oh, hi (: your contact name says “Vitya” lol what a typo

Not a typo, I like it when pretty girls call me Vitya (;

Baffled, you don’t reply, and no further messages are exchanged.

A few days go by, Victor texts you on the fifth day, asking if you wouldn’t mind recommending some fun local activities. You have to apologize - you don’t get out much, you’re sure there’s info online though.

Victor asks why you don’t go out, you decide to be blunt and succinctly explain the fatigue, you’re anxious, this is your first time being out on your own and you’re so used to other people dictating your life that it feels uncomfortable and wrong to be able to make decisions. 

The man asks if you would go to that coffeeshop again with him. The switch of topic relieves you, but at the same time you’re frowning. You probably word-vomited all over him, complaining about your problems. 

For some reason, you agree.

He meets you at the coffeeshop again, this time not even bothering to ask what you’d like to order. Victor just gets a few cookies, leads you to a table and plops down, spreading them in front of the two of you 

“In case you don’t like one of them. And if you have allergies!”

You smile at his explanation.

Victor slowly becomes a constant in your life.

The texts turn into quick calls, inviting you places, begging you to come sit with him in the park, feed some pigeons. Go to the grocery store with him? He’s lonely, don’t make him go by himself!

Even if you refuse, you’re gently bullied into doing virtually everything he says. It’s not like you mind though, you’re used to it.

He starts showing up at your apartment, you aren’t even sure when you gave him your address, but now he invites himself inside.

The first time he had shown up, completely unannounced, you had protested only once before letting him in. You could tell he was scrutinizing your home, but what did it matter? Victor was wealthy, everything you owned seemed shabby and poor.

He came over most nights, sometimes bringing food, making you sit with him at your table and eat. Sometimes he brought a book, or his laptop, and quietly sat on your couch while you puttered around. He’d always get distracted from what he was reading though, chattering towards you about this or that or the other.

Victor was nice.

He made decisions for you, he made you eat, he quickly picked up on when you were too tired to function, when all you could do was collapse somewhere and fall asleep.

But Victor was also threatening.

If you tried refusing him too many times, or if you mentioned your coworker telling a funny joke (It’s not like he wasn’t funny, the joke was hilarious - Victor just didn’t seem to like it) Victor’s face would sour, eyebrows drawing low, a deep frown etched onto his face. HIs voice would take on a commanding tone, low, as if he was going to do something that neither of you would enjoy if he had to ask again. 

It was scary sometimes.

But he had invaded your life, and you had stood by and idly watched. It’s not like you had put up a fight. You didn’t even know why he hung around you so, with the way you were constantly tired, moving through life like a zombie, sad and sleepy all the time.

Months passed and like every other year of your life, you could barely remember them slipping by. When had Victor become so comfortable in your apartment? It made you uncomfortable, but you were used to discomfort.

It came to a head when you retreated to your room for a nap, body sore and fatigued from merely existing. Victor followed you, nagging about wearing something cooler, to drink some water, how he heard about this new thing recently-

He followed you into your bed.

Like it was normal. Crawling under the covers with you, still maintaining a respectful distance, still talking. You were so tired, you didn’t care about how it made you uncomfortable.

When you woke up, he was curled around you, holding you tight. When you shifted, he had perked up, peeking around your shoulder to see your face. He had been awake the whole time, just chilling.

It was weird.

You were too tired to fight it.

Victor started paying for too much.

Of course it started small, as everything concerning Victor did. Sweets, small little gifts, occasionally a week’s worth of groceries. 

Then it escalated. He was paying for your medications, for your therapies, for your health aids. He started trailing after you to doctor’s appointments, introducing himself as a concerned friend.

You knew this wasn’t good, wasn’t healthy. Something was wrong about this, but you just didn’t care. Something was always wrong, you were always being directed and pushed towards this or that. You just had to accept it.

Then Victor was paying your rent, buying you clothes (since when did friends buy each other underwear?) surprising you with bigger and more expensive gifts until you tried to put your foot down.

You had gotten a stern talking-to, treated like an ungrateful child. And maybe you were? Victor was doing so much for you, shouldn’t you just accept his care?

Victor suggested that you move into his house, since he practically lives at your little apartment anyways. 

“My place is so much cozier! I have a fireplace, I miss it! I want to spend time with you but we could hang out in a more-” He looked around at your apartment “-comfortable place?”

You tried to argue, you did. But it took one disapproving glance from Victor and you were subdued, meekly agreeing to do whatever he wanted.

He called your landlord to terminate your lease. He helped you pack your clothes (that he had bought) into boxes (that he had bought) and arranged for your furniture (that he had bought, always complaining that your couch was bad for his back) to be sold.

Once moving in with him, he got more and more affectionate.

Right from the start, you quickly realized that Victor was very tactile-oriented. He wasn’t shy about physical touch, always wanting to hold hands or giving super long hugs, or begging to cuddle. He didn’t think it was weird, so you tried not to think so either.

Now that you were in his house, his gigantic, expensive house, Victor became even more physical. He showered you with kisses on the cheek, pressed to your forehead, on your shoulder, your neck when he curled around you at night (because of course you slept in the same bed. Victor had just laughed when you asked where your bedroom was)

Eventually, he kissed you on the mouth.

You were surprised, but you didn’t fight it. Why would you?

A heartfelt confession followed - how he had fallen in love with you at first sight, and how every day he fell more and more in love with you. You were his everything, the light of his life, he would die for you.

Don’t you feel the same?

You did, because that’s what Victor wanted to hear.

So now the two of you were dating, sharing kisses and intimate touches and eventually sharing bodies, letting him touch you even though it made your flesh crawl, touching him because he asked you to.

He provided everything, it was simpler just to do what he asked, what he desired. You didn’t even really mind being told what to do, what to wear, what and when to eat - it gave you a sense of comfort, knowing that you didn’t have to make decisions for yourself like that.

Victor would take care of you.

Even when you didn’t want him to

After all, it was simply easier to give in to love

[toriwakes]

Opposite [Harry Potter x Reader]

summary: harry brings out a different side of you.

content warnings: fluff:)

a/n: hey!!! i was scrolling through gifs and thought this one up. hope u like! as always let me know if you have any requests!

“please go, i’ll die without you there!” hermione was currently trying to convince you to go to the yule ball. sure you’d like to, but dances were not your thing. they were packed, which made it hot. the long gowns inevitably stepped all over, standing around hurt your feet and the music was never good. but there was one thing that could convince you to go. “i’ll tell you what, if you can find me a date i’ll go.” hermione gasped. “(y/n), i don’t know if i can do that..” you hated it when she doubted herself. with a sly smirk you got up from the library table and gave her a friendly kiss in the cheek. “then i don’t know if i can go.” woth that you walked off.

on the way to the east towers, you spotted a familiar messy-headed boy. “potter!” you shouted. his head perked up and he smiled when he found you. “hi!” he chirped. normally you were very outgoing. you were loud and keen on making new friends. some people even found it annoying. harry never saw that side of you. to him you were the opposite. not boring, just shy. “what class do you have?” he asked. “charms. you?” you both laid your backs against stone wall, ignoring the giggling of the portrait next to you. “divination.” he made a sour face when he said it. “we still have some time before class. wanna go up to the astronomy tower?” you asked. harry furrowed his brows. “(y/n) (y/l/n), breaking the rules?” you laughed. “do you wanna go or not?” “i’m going, i’m going!”

“the view is so beautiful up here.” you commented. and you were right; the sun glimmered onto the black lake. it looked less ominous today and more aesthetic. every now and then you’d see a tentacle of the giant squid rise to the surface- you liked to think it was waving at you. harry was gazing at your side profile. “are you going to the ball?” you asked. harry broke his gaze from you, responding. “i think so. i kinda have to.” you rested your cheek on your fist. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go either. blimey- look at the time! we’ll be late if we don’t go now!” you scurried off but harry stayed behind. you see, he just realized something. something big, something that changed everything.

harry potter fancied you.

meanwhile, hermione was making it a priority to find someone to go to the hall with you. she thought of asking some randoms, but she realized that even if they would go with you, you wouldn’t take them as your date. she tried andre, a ravenclaw boy in your year. “oh, i appreciate it but i already have a date.” hermione understood but was still upset. she decided to take she mind off things by meeting up with harry. “hello.” he said. his voice was shaky, like he was nervous. “hello harry- are you alright?” she noticed the change in his behavior immediately. “no- i mean yes- well actually-“ “spit it out harry!” she said. harry sort of cringed and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. he checked his surroundings before grabbing hermione by the forearm and leading her to a nearby empty classroom. hermione didn’t say anything until he was done making sure the room was empty. “what is it harry?” she finally spoke. “look- i think i might have a crush on (y/n), and i don’t know what to do because (y/n) is one of our best friends and-“ harry continued to ramble but at that point hermione had tuned him out. not only did she just find out some ground-breaking news, she had someone that could go to the yule ball with you.

“i’m not going to ask if (y/n)’s going to say no, hermione!” harry was being shoved towards the owlery right now. you let hermione know that morning that you’d be mailing some letters, so now was a better time as ever have harry shoot his shot. “it’s worth a try harry! the odds she’ll say yes are higher than she’ll say no, so just go and stop being a wuss.” she demanded with a final shove. harry brushed himself on and started going up the steps, eyeing hermione. “i’m not a wuss..” and he was going to prove it. he was going up there, he was gonna see you, ask you out and you were gonna say yes. as he kept reassuring himself and gaining confidence, he failed to notice he was already at the top of the stairway- and you’d just passed him. “(y/n)!” he said a bit too loud. you spun around, almost slipping on the snow that covered the steps. “hi harry!” he opened his mouth and was obviously speaking, but you couldn’t make out a thing he said. “uhm..could you say that again? i couldn’t understand you.” he gulped. “i was wondering..if you’d like to go to the yule ball. with me.” your eyes slightly widened and an inaudible gasp left your lips. harry was on edge until he smile on your face. “yeah. i’d really like that.” you responded. “okay. yeah, great.” you nodded and smiled before turning around and continuing your way down the steps; and there hermione stood.

“i can’t believe you got harry to ask me!” you giggled with her, heading back to the great hall. “does this mean you’ll go?” hermione was intelligent. now was not a moment of that. “of course i’m gonna go, are you mad?” the laughter continued as you both sat down beside ron. “what’s got you two so happy?” you glanced at hermione who was trying to hold back laughter. he stared at both of you confused. “what?”

the night of the dance came quickly. you were running around, fixing any minor imperfection. finally, you were ready. “are you all set?” with one last ruffle through your hair, you exhaled. “yeah.” hermione stepped in, closing the door behind her. when her eyes found you, her jaw dropped. “merlin’s beard! you’re stunning!” you blushed furiously and wondered if harry would think the same. “harry is extremely lucky.” you playfully hit her, still red in the cheeks. “you never told me who you’re going with?” you realized. hermione smirked and did a twirl. “you’ll see!” then was when students started to pass; it was time to go. with a deep breath you both linked arms and made your way to the hall.

everyones eyes were on you two. jaws dropping, gasps arising. you found harry in that crowd. “i’ll see you inside.” hermione whispered in your ear as she broke away to greet krum. “good evening.” you said. “evening. you look amazing.” harry wanted to say more, but he just couldn’t find the words. “you look quite dapper yourself. ready?” you asked, referring to the dance. he nodded and linked arms with you.

the night was ethereal. you danced, drank, and laughed, all with harry by your side. the dance was coming to a close and you and harry were some of the only people left. “i think we should go, but i really don’t wanna leave.” he admitted. you couldn’t help but blush at how he enjoyed your company. “i think i can do something about that.” you smirked and grabbed harry by the arm, leading him out of the hall and away from everyone. harry was finally seeing the true you; confident and extroverted. as you lead him up along corridors (he wasn’t really paying attention) he eyed the way your hair blew in the wind and the sparkle in your eye at the thrill of it. “the view is extravagant at night.” you commented. “it’s truly is.” but harry wasn’t looking at the view- he was looking at you. taking you all in and finally accepting his feelings for you. in fact, he was going to embrace them. “are you even looking?” the question made him snap out of it. “honestly? no. i’ve got a much better view right here.” you laughed at his playful flirting and continued to gaze. “my one goal is that before my years here are over i’ll get to ride on a broom over the castle and just...take it all in. i feel like we take it for granted, you know? we go to school at one of the most beautiful places on earth.” harry now leaned on the railing with you. the sky was pitch black but luckily the moon made the lake visible. “it is. i’d be happy to take you for a spin one day.” you turned your head to him, his captivating green eyes boring into yours. “i have something to tell you.”

there was a tone of concern in your voice, which made harry furrow his brows. “what is it?” you chewed the inside of your cheek- were you seriously going to do this right now? then, you remembered. you’re not the timid, closed off type of person harry thinks you are. you’re the opposite. “i have a crush on you, harry. i’ve had one for a while now and i guess i understand if you don’t feel the same because we’re such good friends and i see how that can be weird-“ “(y/n)!” you shut your lips quickly. harry chuckled, shaking his head. “i like you too. a lot, actually.” relief. being outgoing has always had benefits, but this one takes the cake. “oh.” the following moments were silent. eventually you felt comfortable enough to lay your head on his shoulder, to which he responded by laying his cheek on your head. “you know, you’re like- the opposite of who i thought you were. in a good way, of course.”

[densi-mber]

Another Christmas Miracle

A/N: For today’s prompt. This is so sweet and fluffy you just might get a sugar rush.

Once again, Merry Christmas Day to everyone who celebrates and a happy day to anyone who is just enjoying their Friday.

***

“Merry Christmas,” Deeks murmured, rolling onto his side to kiss Kensi’s bare shoulder. She made a happy sound in the back of her throat, reaching back with her eyes closed to clumsily touch his face. Her fingers brushed the softness of his facial hair.

“Merry Christmas,” she sighed back, not willing to open her eyes yet.

“Uh-oh, did someone party too hard last night?” Kensi snorted and rolled onto her side, finally opening her eyes. Deeks smiled at her, his skin practically glowing in the early morning light, giving a dreamy quality to the room.

“Oh yeah, that sparkling grape juice and sugar cookies will take you out.” Although eating homemade chicken (which was only a little dry, thank you very much) and potatoes on the floor by the tree wasn’t how Kensi had imagined spending their first Christmas in their own home, it was pretty perfect.

She curled her fingers around Deeks’ bicep, pulling herself across the bed so they were face to face and kissed him for several long, delightful seconds. “How’s your back?” she asked with a mischievous smirk when they pulled apart.

“A little sore,” he admitted. He snuck another kiss, winking at her. “But it was totally worth it.” Kensi grabbed at his arm as he started to slide away from her.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to get something. I’ll be right back.” She eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t protest anymore as he hopped out of bed. It helped that he was wearing a very tiny pair of boxer briefs which emphasized...everything. She watched until he was out the door and then flopped down on her pillow.

He came back a couple minutes later, wearing a Santa hat, and with one arm tucked behind his back.

“Deeks,” she said warningly, “That better not be a present.” He grinned, tossing himself onto the bed, but still somehow managing to keep his hand out of view.

“But Santa always brings presents,” he insisted cheerfully, shaking his head so the end of the hat flopped in his eyes.

“Babe, I thought that we both agreed not to buy anything because we need to save money.” She made an exasperated sound as he revealed the present anyway. It was a small, white, unwrapped box with a silver bow on top. If she had to guess, it probably contained a piece of jewelry.

“I didn’t spend any money on it,” Deeks assured, bracing his forearms against a couple pillows. “Now open it.” He offered her the box, balanced in the palm of his hand, and she reluctantly took it. She could feel his anticipation as she slowly lifted the lid. Cradled on a piece of cotton was a intricately carved wooden pendant, finished in a rich mahogany.

Kensi brushed her fingers over the intertwined heart set in a oval frame, stunned by the simple beauty of it.

“Deeks this is beautiful, where did you get it from?”

“One of the vets I surf with makes all kinds of carved jewelry. His daughter wanted to learn to surf to, so I traded some lessons in exchange for this.” He nodded at the pendant. “There’s an inscription on the back.”

Kensi flipped it over, squinting a little to read the tiny print.

“Wherever You Are Is Home”. She felt tears well in her eyes and leaned across the bed to hug Deeks, the necklace clasped tightly in her hand.

“It’s perfect, Deeks. Thank you,” she said, holding him tightly. Reluctantly pulling away, she leaned over to her bedside table and retrieved a present about the size of a cigar box. “I was going to wait to give you this, but since were apparently giving presents now, I might as well. Merry Christmas, baby.”

Deeks squinted an eye at her, pulling at the green ribbon tied around it.

“So much for not buying presents,” he commented wryly.

“I definitely didn’t pay anything for this and I didn’t trade anything either.” She pressed her lips together, her heart racing a little as he removed the wrapping paper and opened the box, a frown appearing as he saw the contents. He pulled out a tiny pair of white booties, the edges bearing a couple scrapes, but otherwise in pristine condition.

“Baby shoes...?” Kensi let out a trembling sigh at his question and said,

“Remember how I said last night that maybe we’d have another little Deeks by next Christmas?” He nodded, still not following along. “Well, we might need those a lot sooner than you thought.”

He was silent for another moment and then his head sprang up.

“Kensi are you telling me...?” he whispered, shaking his head in dis belief as she nodded.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, voice breaking. His face split with a massive smile, and he surged across the bed, clasping her against his chest.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe this. When, how? I thought we missed the cycle this month.”

“I thought so too, but I took a pregnancy test last week just out of habit and it was positive. I was going to tell you right away, but then you were at LAPD all day and while I was waiting I decided to go through the keepsakes my mom gave me.” She smiled gently, brushing her fingers over the shoes, which Deeks still cradled in one hand. “Then I found these.”

“This is unbelievable,” he murmured, looking at the shoes again.

“Another Christmas Miracle,” Kensi said, brushing his hair back from his face. She was nearly overcome with emotion. “I love you so much Marty Deeks.”

““This is the most ridiculous Christmas ever.” He laughed, his eyes filling with tears as he kissed her again. “We’re having a baby and I’m going to FLETC, and we just bought a house. We’re insane.”

“Yes, we are and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Kensi agreed as Deeks pulled her back into his arms.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispered, lowering his hand to rest over her stomach. “And Merry Christmas baby Deeks.”

***

A/N: Obviously this pregnancy reveal is a separate scenario from the previous one. The beast has been reawakened, expect many a baby fics from now on.

[misssquidtracy]

Noble Intentions (Part 3).

The end of my slightly belated contribution to Gordo’s FabFiveFeb week. I finally managed to snap a leash on it before it could breed any more  🙌🏻

All credit for FabFiveFeb goes to the gorgeous @gumnut-logic 💚

Prompt: You did what?

Genre: Humour.

Characters: Gordon & Brains.

Part 1  Part 2

-x-

“Magnificent!” Brains cooed, peering out the window of the Helipod at the forested slopes of Bogota’s Eastern Hills, “What a t-truly remarkable place!”

Gordon smiled and tightened his grip on the yoke, “See, Brains? Wasn’t this worth getting up early for?”

The scientist twisted his head to gaze out the opposing window and peeped in delight when a flock of colourful finches zipped past, “Absolutely! Though while the views are stunning, it’s Dr. Gabriela I’m really looking forward to meeting. I can’t believe she’s one of just a handful of senior ophthalmologists investigating the link between vision restoration and gene t-therapy. I’ve never felt defined by my eyesight, but I’ve always wondered whether a t-technique exists that could reduce my reliance on corrective lenses. I went to a clinic specialising in photorefractive keratectomy and refractive lens exchange a couple of years ago, but nothing ultimately came of it. I’m excited to see if Dr. Gabriela has any suggestions. How lucky for me t-that you were able to get me an appointment at such short notice!”

“Yeah…” Gordon bit his lip and tried to ignore the guilty sensation that was holding his conscious hostage. He’d been up all night researching various scientific phrases he could throw at Brains in an effort to persuade him to tag along to Gabriela’s charity event. While his initial sales pitch had been enough to convince the engineer to abandon tinkering with his hatch deployment actuator, the little reading that Gordon had done on eye health hadn’t prepared him for the barrage of questions Brains had thrown at him.

“Does Dr. Gabriela have access to a VT 3 vision screener? And how up-to-date is her femtosecond laser?”

Sweat started to bead on Gordon’s forehead as he fought the urge to start making words and phrases up, “Oh, everything she uses is top of the range, Brains. Top of the range I say.”

The engineer made a noise of contentment similar to the one he’d made after Scott had given him permission to butcher the stray GDF R.O.BOT that had ended up in Tracy Island’s hanger.

-x-

Five short minutes later, and Gordon was ushering Brains through a pair of automatic doors that led into a gymnasium of sorts. While the scientist was content to admit that he’d never been to a South American country before, the layout of this so-called ‘private clinic’ was definitely not what he’d been expecting.

It wasn’t long before the discomfort of being in unfamiliar surroundings began to eat away at Brains’s composure. Thankfully, he had the ever sociable Gordon for backup, “Is this the w-waiting room?”

“Yeah…kind of,” Gordon replied, waving awkwardly as several people doddered past and began setting up easels, “You know what, let’s save Gabriela some trouble and start getting things ready for her. I know she’s a very busy woman, so any time we can save her will be a win for us.”

A peep of shock forced its way out of Brains’s mouth as he was bundled off towards a corner of the room that was obscured by a curtain of sorts. He’d done some preliminary research on Bogota’s economic health and was aware that the area was seismically sensitive and had suffered extensive infrastructural damage as a result of said seismic activity. Even so, he’d expected something markedly different when Gordon had bleated about how ‘top of the range’ this place supposedly was.

“Okay, you need to strip off,” Gordon instructed, shoving the scientist behind the safety of the curtain before politely turning away, “All new patients have to undergo a full-body CT scan to check for any underlying health conditions. Unfortunately they’re out of gowns, so you’ll have to do it in the buff.”

Any preoccupations Brains had with the decor of his new surroundings flew out the window quicker than Scott on an amphetamine at the bluntness of Gordon’s statement. Stripping off for an invasive procedure was to be expected, but for an eye exam?

Something didn’t add up…

“Oh, and you can’t wear your glasses during the scan either,” Gordon announced, inserting an arm through the curtain and popping the lenses neatly off the engineer’s nose, “Metallic objects can interfere with the final result. Now, chop, chop! Gabriela is waiting.”

Eager to avoid anything that could cause social awkwardness, Brains set about hesitantly disrobing. He’d never had a medical experience quite as…rustic…as this one, but reminded himself that not everyone had access to the same resources and technology they had back on Tracy Island.

Plus, he trusted Gordon.

-x-

“Is he here?” Gabriela asked, clattering towards Gordon like a giraffe on stilts, “Because I’ve got seventy people who’ve paid good money to put a member of International Rescue on their canvases.”

“Relax,” Gordon soothed, jerking his head in the direction of where he’d left Brains, “He’s getting ready now. How long will the whole thing take?”

A cloud of noxiously sweet perfume wafted through the air as Gabriela ran to consult her diary, “The entire class is three hours long, but guests are encouraged to take reference pictures during the first few minutes. Obviously, we can’t expect a model to pose for so long, so we generally ask for them to sit for just the first hour. Most people should have finished subject studying and underpainting by then.”

“He won’t last that long,” Gordon sighed, jolting when John suddenly issued a rescue order for a couple of stranded hikers on the Nepali slope of Everest. Thankfully, Scott picked up the call before enquiries could be made about Gordon’s whereabouts.

“Fifteen minutes, minimum,” Gabriela clinched, aware that her guests were starting to twiddle their brushes in impatience, “I just need him long enough for photos to be taken. I know it sounds tedious, but photographic shots are necessary for shading and contouring. Plus, guests can refer back to them if they don’t finish in the allotted time.”

Caramel eyes narrowed to slits as Gordon calculated the risk of further hoodwinking his blind colleague.

“Okay, fifteen minutes,” the aquanaut affirmed, striding back to where he’d left his charge, “You done yet, Brains?”

“I t-think so,” came the uncertain response, “But how am I going to get to the radiology clinic in t-this condition? Surely it would have made more sense for me to ‘prepare’ myself in the same room as the scanner?”

“Oh, it’s a portable one that can scan you from a distance in any position,” Gordon blabbed, throwing Gabriela a thumbs up as he gripped the curtain and prepared to yank it back, “Top of the range, remember?”

“If you s-say so,” Brains stammered, blinking like a mole that had just emerged into the sunlight, “I t-trust you.”

The hand that was about to rip the curtain back paused, it’s owner reflecting on the depth of the three words that had just been uttered.

Sure, if Scott hadn’t threatened to ground him, then Brains would be back in the safety of his lab and Gordon himself behind the curtain. And the entire event was funding a very worthy cause with numerous far-reaching benefits…

…but was it all worth humiliating a friend over?

Everyone who had the pleasure of meeting Gordon always described him as an uncommonly kind man. He had an almost innate ability to see life through other people’s eyes. Though it was emotionally exhausting at times, it was the driving force behind his desire to make people happy. He soaked up emotions like a sponge, and had learnt over the years that the best way to keep himself light and fluffy was to project as much positive energy into the people around him as possible.

Despite being disoriented and confused, Brains had willingly put a healthy chunk of his dignity into Gordon’s hands. And now his ass was on the line. 

Quite literally.

Gordon sighed. Noble intentions or not, no impulsive decision was worth a friend’s modesty.

“Change of plans, Brains,” the aquanaut informed, “Gabriela’s got an emergency telephone consultation, so has referred you back to your usual guy in Sydney. You can get dressed and come out. I’ve popped your glasses down by your shoes, so don’t tread on them.”

Of course, the life of someone in Gordon’s line of work with Gordon’s personality meant that for every battle won, another was lost. While the moral dilemma over Brains’s involvement in the event was over, there was still the issue of Gabriela and the roomful of impatient artists she’d amassed.

“Hey, Brains? I’m just nipping home real quick. Tell Gabriela I’ll be back within the hour with a fully-fledged International Rescue operative for her…um…thing. This neighbourhood isn’t the safest place on the map, so don’t leave the compound by yourself. See you in a jiffy.”

The partially dressed Brains had less than a second to formulate a reply before Gordon bolted out the door, a metaphorical trail of fire blazing in his wake.

“I really must talk to Scott about a p-pay rise...”

-x-

One hour later…

MAX beeped seductively as he stretched his robotic limbs across the chaise lounge he was sprawled across.

“Draw him like one of your French robots,” Gordon suggested to a dark haired woman who had been studying her easel for several minutes, the hilarity of his own joke causing a snort to break forth. The woman remained impassive, her eyes fixed on the contours of MAX’s storage pod. Titanic references were clearly neither wanted, nor appreciated.

It hadn’t been the event anyone had expected. There had been no naked emergency responders, no naked engineers, and by extension, no naked calendar. Thankfully, MAX’s delight at being asked to participate in a human activity, combined with his enthusiasm for arts and crafts had gone some way towards placating some of the slightly miffed attendees.  

“Well, we hit out target,” Gabriela announced, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Plus, MAX managed to rake in a fair few tips. That should cover the cost of food for the day.”

A sad series of beeps sounded as MAX dropped his gaze to the floor. He’d hoped to use the human money he’d earnt to buy his own easel, since Virgil was getting tired of him constantly vandalising his. Maybe he could ask Scott to pay him every time he emptied the dishwasher, just like he did with Alan…

“Chin up, MAX!” Gordon cooed, loading as much leftover food into the Helipod’s storage bin as was physically possible, “I’ll pay you twice what you earnt in tips for your time today. How does that sound?”

Brains smiled and self-consciously adjusted his glasses, “Thank you G-Gordon. We both thoroughly enjoyed our time here today. I must say, everyone did an excellent job at capturing MAX’s likeness. I think the canvas I p-purchased will look wonderful next to Kayo’s picture in the lounge. Of course, we’ll have to shift the r-rest of you up a bit to make room.”

Gordon gave a distracted nod around the sandwich he was chewing, his own small reward for a day chock full of hoop jumping.

After watching his creator disappear outside to chat to Gabriela (who was in the middle of a well-deserved smoke break), MAX wheeled over to the bag containing the portrait Brains had bought and carefully extracted it, his eye widening in awe as he drank in the masterful brushstrokes that came together to recreate him.

There was just one thing missing...

...a moustache.

-x-

Present day

"Uh, Gordon?" Virgil's voice was low and gentle, a stark contrast to the shrieks of delight Mandy was emitting, "Do I need to remind you about what happened last time you signed up for something like this?"

Gordon most certainly didn’t need reminding. He still hadn’t fully recovered from the tongue-lashing Scott had given him after discovering the portraits out of whack and MAX’s canvas next to his launch station…or the follow-up tongue-lashing that had come about after he’d learnt the reason behind the portraits being out of whack.

Hopefully an expensive bouquet of flowers on top of one of Scott’s ‘fat-ass cheques’ would keep Mandy from hunting him down and gnawing off his toes while he slept…

It wasn’t all bad though. Scott would never admit it, but Gordon’s previous display of charitable benevolence had warmed his heart enough for him to disclose to John the one person they could all freely bare their naked asses to if they so wished.  

The Hood. But on two conditions:

1. He had to be en route to a prison cell at the time.

2. The phrase ‘kiss my ass’ would have to take on a literal meaning instead of a metaphorical one.

FIN

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 12: Two’s Company

summary As the party grows from two to three, Fahjoth tries his best to smooth over tensions. 

content warnings strong warning for nausea/emetophobia about halfway down

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

————————————————————————

The shock reverberated up Fahjoth’s shins as his feet found solid ground with a jolt. Gasping, he staggered back, desperately trying to regain his balance. Once his brain caught up with the messages his eyes were receiving, he realised that the three of them were back in Ald’ruhn; a nearby guard stared at them from behind his impassive helm, but otherwise he didn’t seem to care too much for three Dunmer suddenly materialising out of thin air. 

While Fahjoth remained on his feet, Ribyna was not so lucky, and she groaned from her landing position face-down on the dusty ground. “Ugh… what the fuck was that?!” she spat, rubbing smudges of dirt from her face as she dragged herself upright again. 

“Almsivi Intervention,” Julan answered, discomfort clear on his face. “It teleports you to the nearest Tribunal temple.” There was a pause before he continued, “I’m sorry, I— I don’t know what happened back there… You must think I’m such a coward. I swear I’m not. I swear I am a warrior, and I’ve never run from a fight, nor do I fear death.”

“Look, don’t be daft,” Fahjoth replied, raising his voice to speak over Ribyna’s loud scoffing as he tried to reassure Julan. “We don’t think you’re a coward—”

“Speak for yourself...” Ribyna muttered, but Fahjoth ignored her to reassure Julan. 

“I wasn’t exactly having a good time up there either,” he continued, trying to inject a bit of humour into the situation. Judging by Julan’s expression, it hadn’t worked.

“I’m not afraid of Red Mountain, or any of its monsters,” Julan said. “It’s... something else. It’s to do with these… weird dreams I’ve been having.” 

Fahjoth’s curiosity was piqued as he thought back to his own night terrors. He hadn’t experienced them for a while, and for that he was thankful, but recollections of fiery landscapes and dark figures with blazing red eyes still lingered in the back of his mind. “Oh yeah?”

Julan took a deep breath. “I dream that I’m climbing Red Mountain. It’s just like what we saw — it’s dark, the air is filled with ash that gets into my eyes and mouth, but the further I go up, the harder it is to keep going. And then there’s all these voices, whispering things to me.”

“What sort of things?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t even know. I can’t understand what they’re saying, it’s too hard to make out. But it sounds, uh… well, not good, y’know?” Julan looked between Fahjoth and Ribyna apprehensively. “You’ve heard of Dagoth Ur, right? I mean, I’m guessing you have, but...”

Their silence said more than enough; Ribyna’s face looked as blank as Fahjoth’s brain felt, and Julan was visibly stunned. 

“Oh come on, even outlanders must know about him! Dagoth Ur? The devil who lives beneath Red Mountain?”

“Sorry, mate.” Fahjoth shrugged. “I don’t—” Then he stopped, as a thought occurred to him. “Wait, does he have anything to do with the Sixth House Cult?” 

“Yeah…” Julan frowned, and Fahjoth began to feel as if he’d done something wrong. “What do you know about the Sixth House Cult?”

“Honestly, not much.” At least that was truthful. There was no point bringing up Cosades and his work, as Fahjoth knew very little about it himself. “I just heard there’s been attacks from sleeper agents. I saw one of them myself.” He couldn’t suppress a shudder at the memory, remembering the vacant expression on the Dunmer’s face and his iron grip as hot as ashes on his wrist. “He said something like… Dagoth Ur is risen, something something Sixth House glory… I don’t know.” 

Even Ribyna looked surprised by Fahjoth’s anecdote, while Julan’s tone became one of understanding instead. “Ah, I see. Yeah. Dagoth Ur is a powerful figure in our history and legends. Supposedly, he causes people to go insane by sending them dreams.”

Ribyna raised a brow at that. “What, so you reckon you’re going insane?”

“What— no!” Julan replied defensively. “I am not insane and I’m not planning to be, either! Lots of people dream about him. It’s nothing.”

For a moment, Fahjoth wondered if it was worth bringing up his own dreams. But if what Julan said was right, then perhaps it was more common than he had thought. He didn’t feel like he was going insane, and as long as it stayed that way, then he surely ought to be alright. 

On realising that he had tuned out of the conversation, Fahjoth jolted and made an effort to concentrate again. 

“Then why are you so bothered by them that you can’t even climb a mountain?” Ribyna was saying. 

“I’m not! I mean—” Julan blew out, his frustration evident. “Look, I know it doesn’t make any sense, okay? I just need time. Anyway…” He looked between the twins, vying for a change of subject. “Never mind that. How about getting on with some training? I could do with taking my mind off things.”

“Yeah, alright. Good idea,” Fahjoth agreed. He gestured between himself and Ribyna. “Me and Beebs are both used to working with short blades and light armour.” Then he gave a dry laugh. “I don’t think either of us will be able to help with your magic, though. We can’t cast spells for shit.”

“Hah! That’s alright.” Julan grinned. “I don’t need any help with archery, either, I’ve been practising since I was small. I prefer fighting with blades anyway, so I’m up for that.” 

“Right!” 

Fahjoth turned to face Ribyna, alarmed by the sight of her drawing her dagger. 

“Sparring match, then? Let’s see how we do,” she suggested. Fahjoth was nervous; Ribyna’s attitude so far hadn’t sat well with him at all, and neither was the look on her face as she eyed Julan. Such a sudden turnaround, going from being openly hostile to Julan to wanting to spar with him, didn’t exactly bode well. 

Whether Julan himself shared Fahjoth’s apprehension wasn’t apparent. On the contrary, he drew his own shortsword and nodded. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” 

“Are you sure?” Fahjoth asked. “With real weapons? Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”

“It’ll be fine, Fahji,” Ribyna said dismissively. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t go too hard,” Julan added. Fahjoth wasn’t at all optimistic about that, but he held his tongue and decided to lean against a nearby wall to observe. 

Ribyna brandished her dagger and stalked a circle around Julan, who stood ready with his chitin sword. Without warning she lunged, hard and fast. Julan brought his sword up to deflect the blow, the blades screeching on impact. A retaliation from Julan, deliberately slow and cautious, forced Ribyna back and kept her at arm’s length for the time being. Overall, it seemed to be going well, and Fahjoth began to relax. 

That was until one particularly close call from the tip of Julan’s blade threw Ribyna off her rhythm. Although the strike hit the tough leather of her armour, the force and angle still caused the dagger to get flung from her grip. With a grin, Julan pointed his sword up to her chest, puffing from the brief yet intense exercise. 

“Got you! Maybe don’t drop your weapon next time.”

Ribyna only scowled in response. Then with a flash of steel, she pivoted herself against Julan’s chest, a second dagger poised against his throat. 

“Maybe make sure your opponent is actually unarmed next time.” 

There was a moment of stiff silence; Ribyna glared at Julan, her face less than an inch from his own, while Julan stared back defiantly. Then the tension broke, and she backed up and resumed pacing, looking for the next opportunity to strike. 

The remainder of the sparring session continued much in the same manner, with Ribyna and Julan flitting around each other in a vicious dance, both trying to get the upper hand over the other. A short while and a few close calls later and they agreed to call it a day, having been reasonably evenly matched. It seemed that training together would be as beneficial for Fahjoth and Ribyna as it would be for Julan himself. 

“How about a drink?” Fahjoth suggested to his somewhat bruised companions. “I think we could all do with chilling out for a bit.” 

“Fine by me,” Ribyna said, while Julan looked awkward.

“Oh, I… don’t think I have enough to—” Julan started, but he stopped as Fahjoth waved a hand genially. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he chirped, offering Julan a friendly smile. “I’ll get them. I owe Ribyna a round, anyway.”

Julan’s unease melted away and was replaced with a grin, which Fahjoth found quite contagious. He purposefully ignored Ribyna’s dull glare in his periphery, focusing instead on Julan. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to a mazte, if you’re offering.”

“Sorted!” Fahjoth declared, ambling further into Ald’ruhn while Ribyna and Julan limped along with him. He was subjected to the uncomfortable feeling of someone staring at him, and he didn’t need to look around to know that it was coming from Ribyna. 

Once they reached the cool shade of the Ald Skar Inn, Fahjoth suggested that Julan find them a table while he went to retrieve the drinks, to which he happily obliged. However, Fahjoth was not all surprised when Ribyna offered to help him carry them over, despite knowing full well that he could handle them himself, and prepared himself for the ear bashing he knew was imminent.

“He’s taking the piss,” Ribyna hissed, once they were at the bar and out of earshot of Julan. “You know what’s gonna happen, don’t you?”

Fahjoth heaved a sigh as he leaned against the bar, deciding to just let her rant. “Go on then, enlighten me.” 

“He’s gonna mooch off you every chance he gets! He’s always gonna be all, ‘oh no, I don’t have any money’, and then you’ll have to pay for every-bloody-thing.” 

“I don’t mind. It’s not like I don’t have the gold for a few drinks here and there. I’d do the same for any friend!”

Ribyna’s mouth fell open. “Friend?” she spat, outraged. “You barely even know the bastard! Honestly Fahjoth, you see a pretty boy and I swear your whole fucking brain just shuts down!”

Trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks, Fahjoth was quick to see a lifeline and he clung to it like a drowning man. “Oh, so you think he’s pretty, do you?”

This time, it was Ribyna whose cheeks flushed a dull red. “I— no, I never— don’t put words in my mouth!” she retorted, fuming. “You know exactly what I’m saying, and you know I’m right!”

“Well, just do me a favour and keep it to yourself if you can,” Fahjoth requested flatly. “I don’t want Julan to feel uncomfortable. More than he already is...” 

Ribyna looked as though she was going to continue to argue, but a moment of respite came when the drinks arrived. Fahjoth hastily took them over to the table before Ribyna could say another word, leaving her to traipse after him clutching her own. Once he placed the drinks down on the table, Julan gratefully took his, shuffling his stool along to make plenty of room for the twins to join him. 

“So, whereabouts do you two live?” he asked. “It’s not here in Ald’ruhn, is it?” 

“Nah, we’re staying in Balmora.”

“Probably a good thing. It’s like the dusty armpit of Vvardenfell here. And so Redoran, it’s illegal to even joke about it!” Julan swigged his mazte, looking to Fahjoth curiously. “What’s Balmora like?”

“Bit bigger than Ald’ruhn. And less dusty. You’ll see it for yourself soon!” Fahjoth paused. “Well, that’s if you still want to come with us. I’ve got to go check in with my boss soon.” 

“Course I do. As long as we can still continue to train, then I don’t mind where we go.” 

Fahjoth grinned. “Don’t worry about that. If I’m not around, you’ll be able to spar with Ribyna again!” 

“Oh yeah, ‘cause it’s not like I’ve got a life outside you or anything,” Ribyna grumbled, staring at Julan with heavy mistrust — and even dislike. Julan seemed to notice as well, for his smile slipped somewhat and an awkward silence fell over the table. 

“Anyway…” Julan attempted a wary change of subject. “What is it that you do for a living? Apart from rescuing people from clannfears, of course.” 

“To be honest, mate…” Fahjoth shrugged. “I don’t really know. I know that sounds daft, but mostly I just run errands. Gather information. Sometimes nearly get myself killed in Dwemer ruins or haunted tombs. That sort of thing.”

“Sounds… interesting.” 

Both he and Julan both then turned to Ribyna, but she remained silent, glowering back at them while she sipped her drink. Fahjoth’s stomach sank. With Ribyna’s stubborn refusal to socialise, the relatively upbeat mood had been well and truly quashed. 

A heavy weight began to settle in Fahjoth's chest. Though he was looking forward to working with Julan, the excitement was spoiled by Ribyna's behaviour and incessant hostility towards him. He knew Ribyna was prickly at the best of times, but he hadn't anticipated this much resistance to gaining a new companion. If Julan was going to stay with them for the foreseeable, Fahjoth dreaded the idea of trying to persuade her to play nice. How much more grief were they going to get from her?

But more importantly, how far did Julan's tolerance extend? How long would he put up with her animosity and foul mood before deciding that he'd had enough?

                    ——————————————

“I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s up with your hair?”

Blinking, Fahjoth slowly turned to face Julan, trying to concentrate over the rough jerking of the silt strider’s teetering steps and the shrill grinding of its chitinous joints ringing in his ears. He wasn’t normally prone to motion sickness, but being so high above ground level coupled with the vigorous swaying of his seat was not a good combination, and Fahjoth had spent much of the journey from Ald’ruhn to Balmora trying to hold down the urge to vomit. After spending another day in and around Ald’ruhn for training and shopping, Fahjoth could no longer put off returning to Balmora and the silt strider was the fastest way to get there. Even if it did make him want to throw up. 

His first time riding one, and he dearly wished for it to be his last. 

Julan perhaps mistook his silence for offence, for he held up a hand apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“Eh? No, it’s fine. Sorry for being quiet, I’m just not feeling great,” Fahjoth explained, squinting as the low sun on the horizon shone into his eyes. At least the weather had been good for their trip. “Well, it used to be totally black. But a few years ago, it started to go white in the front here.” He held up a strand by means of demonstration. “I dunno why.”

“That really is weird.”

“I still reckon it was stress,” Ribyna added, looking over her shoulder with a smirk. With her arm hanging loosely over the silt strider’s side, she seemed to be having no issues with the bumpy ride. “Obviously not everyone is cut out for life in prison.” 

Julan did a double-take, looking from Ribyna to Fahjoth with shock. “You’ve been arrested?” 

Fahjoth turned to Ribyna, scowling. Ribyna simply smiled back at him with false pleasantry and turned away to gaze at their surroundings as the silt strider tottered along. With a sigh, he turned back to Julan, feeling somehow even more queasy at the thought of telling the truth and wondering how Julan would take it. 

Damn Ribyna and her big mouth!

“Yeah. Me and Ribyna both came here on a prison ship,” Fahjoth admitted. Instantly, Julan looked leery. 

“You’re both convicts? You’re not on the run, are you?”

“No! No, nothing like that. We were released.”

“Released? On Vvardenfell?” Julan scoffed. “That’s just typical of the Empire. As if they haven’t done us enough damage, now they’re offloading their unwanted criminals onto us!”

Admittedly, that comment stung. But before Fahjoth could answer, Ribyna had whipped around in her seat again, looking none too pleased with Julan’s remark herself. 

“Yeah, that’s no good, is it? It’s not like those unwanted criminals saved your sorry arse from getting eaten alive by clannfears or anything!”

Julan blanched, biting his lip as he realised what he had said. “Oh— gods, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it personally. Look, I didn’t mean— well…” As he took a deep breath, Fahjoth noted his hesitation to continue. “You do seem like a good person… people. Good people. Um... were you... y’know... guilty? Of... whatever it was you did to get arrested.”

Fahjoth, for a moment, was silent. He risked a glance over at Ribyna, feeling his stomach clench when he saw that she had turned her back to them again. She said nothing, but Fahjoth could see the tension in her shoulders, and he knew his twin well enough to know that if he spoke the truth, it would hurt her. So he looked back to Julan, thinking about his words carefully. 

“It’s... a bit of a long story, mate,” he said. “It was...” — he paused, waving his hands vaguely — “an accident.”

Julan stared at him with a mild frown, and Fahjoth felt himself break into a nervous sweat, not knowing what he was thinking. After a silence that was far too long for his liking, Julan spoke up at last. 

“I believe you,” he said simply. “I’m not sure why, but I do. Like I said, you seem like a good person, and either way, I’m willing to judge you on your actions here and now, rather than in the past. Whatever they were.” 

A wave of relief crashed over Fahjoth, but before he could respond, a particularly vigorous judder in the silt strider’s pace hit him like a punch to the gut. His stomach, already churning from nausea and anxiety, convulsed violently and a thick, wet sourness hit the back of his throat. Spinning around, he bolted up from his seat, leaning over the side and letting his head hang as he fought to swallow the sickness down again. 

Through watering eyes Fahjoth watched as the ground went rushing by with the strider’s uneven pace, stopping and starting with every bumpy step, the leaves on the trees and bushes below blurring into one as his eyes struggled to focus. How far up was he, anyway? Twenty-five feet? Thirty?

His knuckles whitened as he clenched his trembling hands, his skin becoming hot and clammy and damp with sweat while his heart fluttered an uncomfortable half-rhythm in his chest. After seconds which lasted a lifetime, during which the contents of his stomach barely managed to settle, Fahjoth hauled himself back into the relative safety of his seat. It was still as choppy as ever, but at least he didn’t have to look at the ground this way. When he was able to focus again, he found Julan’s perturbed face fixed rapt upon his own. 

“Fahjoth, are you alright?” 

“Yeah Fahji, you look pale as fuck,” Ribyna added, finally turning her gaze back around, brows furrowed with concern. “Here you are, have some of this.” 

She rummaged in her backpack and fished out a bottle of mazte, reaching back to offer it to Fahjoth. Fahjoth, however, shook his head with his mouth clamped tightly shut. If he opened it, there would likely be more than just words coming out. 

Julan reached over and patted Fahjoth’s shoulder, albeit seeming reluctant to get too close. “It’s okay, I think we’re nearly there. Just... hold onto your lunch a bit longer, alright?”

The silt strider finally drawing to a halt could not have been a bigger relief. Except now that they had reached Balmora, Fahjoth faced the prospect of having to disembark from the silt strider and onto that precarious platform awaiting them. It had been bad enough ascending the narrow ramp to board the strider, how on Nirn was he going to get back down again? 

Fortunately, Ribyna was on hand to lend him hers. Once she had clambered up out of the strider's hollowed-out carapace, she offered her hand to Fahjoth as he hesitantly followed suit. The simple boon of having something firm to grip onto while he stumbled out of the silt strider made all the difference, and without a word, Ribyna let Fahjoth continue holding her hand as they made their way down the slope, Fahjoth's pace hindered significantly by his shaking legs.

It took all his effort not to collapse to his knees the moment he stepped on solid ground at last. He doubled over, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths as he tried to encourage his stomach to settle, paying no heed to anything else going on around him. Once his nausea had subsided enough, he straightened back up again, preparing to face the mocking and jeering he predicted from his travelling companions. 

However, there was nothing of the sort. Both Ribyna and Julan were watching him, their faces showing nothing but concern and sympathy. 

“Not good with heights?” Julan asked, his tone one of pity. 

“I— I dunno,” Fahjoth admitted. “I never realised... but I suppose, yeah. Obviously…”

“Either that or the turbulence,” Julan suggested. He fell silent, turning his gaze away to survey Balmora instead. "So, this is Balmora? It’s so grand." There was clear hesitation in his voice as he continued, “Um... tell me honestly, do I look like a complete savage?”

Fahjoth blinked. “What?”

Julan chewed his lip, his eyes darting from left to right apprehensively, as if searching for anyone who would look at him with disdain. “I know how people view Ashlanders. They think we’re violent, uncivilised barbarians who live in filth and poverty. They don’t even try to understand us, or our culture, or why we choose to live as we do. But we’re proud of our culture. We don’t need these tacky displays of wealth to be happy — we have more valuable things of our own.”

Before Fahjoth could even open his mouth, Ribyna cut across him. “Oh, don’t worry. Me and Fahjoth grew up stinking savages ourselves.”

Unsurprisingly Julan bristled, glaring at Ribyna and quietly seething. Sensing an altercation brewing, Fahjoth hastily spoke up, cringing over Ribyna’s lack of sensitivity. “What she means is that... well, we grew up on the streets,” he explained. “People saw us as nothing more than dirty, uncivilised thieves, as well.”

Thankfully, Julan seemed to calm down. “Well. Then maybe you’ll understand. My people are viewed with suspicion here in the cities. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my heritage, but I feel like I might be too conspicuous. I don’t want to go drawing any attention. What d’you think?”

Fahjoth shrugged. “I mean... you look fine to me, Julan. But if you like, we can look into getting you some new clothes.” 

“At least get him something that smells less of guar,” Ribyna interjected, and once again, Fahjoth wanted to throttle her. Fortunately, Julan didn’t take offence. 

“Maybe that would be a good idea, actually. But!” He jabbed Fahjoth in the chest with a finger. “If you make me look ridiculous, I swear I’ll never forgive you!”

Fahjoth held his hands up innocently, a grin curling at the corners of his lips. “I would never! I’ve got a good eye for fashion, me. Can’t you tell? Anyway…” He looked between Julan and Ribyna with an apologetic gaze. “Do you two wanna go get us a table in the South Wall Cornerclub? I need to go speak to Cosades, but I’ll join you straight after. He gets grumpy if I call on him too late in the day.”

Both Ribyna and Julan looked as apprehensive as Fahjoth felt to be sending off by themselves, but for the moment, it was unavoidable. 

“Alright, well... don’t be long!” Ribyna said with a frown. 

“I won’t!” Fahjoth called back as he began heading off, jogging away between the long shadows cast by the setting sun. 

                    ——————————————

Given the lateness of the hour, Fahjoth had assumed that Cosades would be home, perhaps settling down for the night with a few bottles of booze as he was wont to do. To his surprise, that was not the case. He lingered around for five minutes, just on the off-chance that Cosades would turn up, but he was reluctant to leave Julan and Ribyna alone for much longer. So he hurried on to the South Wall Cornerclub, hoping that the two had not bitten chunks out of each other in his absence.

However, he needn't have worried. When Fahjoth arrived and descended the steps into the bar, he spotted Ribyna and Julan sitting in complete stony silence at their usual corner table. Quite frankly, he had seen funerals looking more lively. 

His arrival seemed to come as a relief, as Julan glanced up and waved Fahjoth over. Fahjoth obliged, joining them at the table with haste as he accepted the bottle that Ribyna pushed towards him. He was both unsurprised and disappointed to see that Julan had nothing. 

“Sorry about this,” he murmured, casually pushing his own mazte over to Julan instead. 

“It's fine,” Julan replied. “Not like either of you are obligated to buy me a drink.” 

“Yeah, but it's polite, isn't it?” he said, directing this particular comment over to Ribyna, who curled her lip but said nothing on the matter. 

“So did you see Cosades?” she asked instead. “What's he got lined up for you this time?”

“He wasn't in,” Fahjoth answered. “I'll see him tomorrow, I'm sure.” He paused, before sliding a handful of coins over the table towards Ribyna. “Could you go get me a mazte? I still feel a bit dodgy.”

“I already got you a mazte.”

“Ribyna, come on,” Fahjoth groaned, desperate for one night of peace. “Please.”

A moment of irate silence later and Ribyna got to her feet, striding off towards the bar with a distinctly sour demeanour.

Fahjoth sighed, burying his face behind his hands with dismay. “I'm so sorry about her,” he apologised, lowering his hands and resting his chin on his fist. 

Julan shrugged. Fahjoth had to admire his fortitude. “Don't worry about it. It's hardly your fault. And I've dealt with much worse, believe me.” He peered over his shoulder, jerking his head in Ribyna's direction before turning back to Fahjoth. “I don't suppose you know what her problem is?”

“I wouldn't take it personally, mate,” Fahjoth said. “She's just... like that. To everyone, pretty much.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his mouth continuing to move as his frustrations began to seep out. “Has been for years, now. I knew she was... difficult, but I swear she's gotten so much worse since we got here. Like, I know you need gold to survive, that's obvious, but there's gotta be better ways of going about that than joining the Thieves Guild or the Morag bloody Tong—”

“Hold on,” Julan interrupted, cutting Fahjoth off mid-rant. “She's in the Morag Tong?!”

Fahjoth froze, realising his slip-up. 

“Uh…” he began, but he was spared the need to respond by Ribyna's return. 

“There's your bloody mazte,” she said grumpily, putting the drink down in front of Fahjoth with enough force that, for a moment, he thought the bottle might shatter. Before he could say anything, Julan was on the attack. 

“So you're in the Morag Tong.” He glared at Ribyna, his grip on his own bottle hard. “The Morag Tong! You'd better have a damn good reason for this!”

Ribyna paused, slowly turning her gaze to Fahjoth as she sat down again. Fahjoth could merely offer her an apologetic grimace, and with a loud huff, she rolled her eyes and turned back to Julan. 

“Come on then, I want to hear this!” Julan went on. “How can you possibly justify joining a murder cult?!”

“It's a job,” Ribyna said bluntly. “I get paid to do it. That's all. And keep your bloody voice down, will you?”

After glancing around to ensure that they hadn't drawn any undue attention already, Julan continued in a low hiss. “So that's all this is to you? Money? There's lots of ways to make gold that don't involve killing people you don't even know!”

“Listen, save the lectures. If someone's got to die, they're gonna get killed either way. At least this way, I can get paid for it!”

Julan sighed, eyeing Ribyna with distrust. “Yeah, well, that doesn't mean I have to like it. You're still walking up to a stranger and putting a dagger in their back. I don't know if I could live like that. And if you can, well…”

“Yeah? Well if you don't like it, you know where the door is,” Ribyna spat. “In fact, why don't you do us both a favour and piss off back to the Ashlands alread—”

“Alright, that's enough!” Fahjoth snapped, holding his hands up towards the bickering pair. “Both of you, pack it in! You're doing my head in. Let's all just calm down, okay? Thank you…”

Fahjoth hung his head after his outburst, going back to nursing his mazte in silence and deliberately avoiding both Ribyna and Julan's eyes. Already he felt guilty about losing his temper, but he was still feeling rough from the silt strider ride and the vicious squabble wasn’t helping. He was beginning to wonder if they would ever get along; the prospect of having to put up with their constant quarrelling was a grim one. Was this going to be his existence for the foreseeable future? Playing referee between his twin and his new friend? 

He despaired at the thought. But he could always live in hope, no matter how exhausting it was.

————————————————————————

tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

[svtxsoju]

01. crush that hangover! | dear miss soju

ღ Synopsis: College is hard. Love is even harder. Good thing the students of Mansae University can write in to Miss Soju, the campus’ very own romance advice columnist! The only problem is she’s never been in a relationship. Ever. There’s no telling what kind of chaos she may cause in the love lives of several of MU’s most eligible bachelors. Too bad no one knows who she really is!  ღ Characters/Pairings: college AU! Seventeen & OC’s, Pairings TBA! ღ Genre: Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life ღ Warning(s): Mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, mentions of sex, language, bad jokes ღ Word Count: 5.0k words  ღ Binu’s Note: ever stare at a selfie so long that it looks weird? ya that’s this chapter for me. there were just so many elements that i wanted to get right, but i kept changing things and now i can’t look at it anymore :c i’ll properly proofread it later, but for now enjoy!! i have some other content ima post later so i’m p excited for that hehehe anyway ya happy friday!!! 

《 ⊛ Author’s Note & Credits ⊛ Disclaimer ⊛ Masterlist ⊛ 》

《 Previous ⊛ Next 》

Monday, September 2, 2019 9:05AM

This was not how Joohyun had imagined her first day at The Front. Whenever she described this moment to Jihoon, she was very clear about the way she would walk in so confidently that the senior writers would wonder why they forgot to email her an invite to their 8:30 meeting. Jihoon, who relished in raining on her parade, predicted that they wouldn’t even know her name. But she had no time for his blunt realism, because she had been living as a made-up person since June and her corporate daydreams were the only things keeping her sane. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but she figured that once they saw her talent, everything would be just fine.

So it’s not difficult to imagine Joohyun’s distress when she just barely stumbled into the office this morning, nursing a mind-melting hangover. 

She should have known she would be a goner when the sports section interns had challenged her to a drinking game at last night’s welcome party. Her drinking partner, a small girl interning at HR, had only made it two shots in before falling asleep on her lap. For the record, she had still made sure that she was the last intern standing (although she definitely wasn’t the same bright-eyed freshman that could chug a pitcher of soju and beer just to spite Jihoon). Looking around the office, she felt a little relieved to find that the other interns were suffering just as much as her, if their slumped positions and pained groans told her anything. So much for giving a good first impression.

Joohyun was trying her best not to look like she was two steps from an early grave when she was approached by a big woman with a laptop in her arms. She awkwardly bowed her head to greet her, but the woman’s gaze never left the screen of her Macbook. “Miss… Joonyoung?”

“Oh, that’s not--” 

“You’re the new advice column intern, correct?” 

“Oh. Yes, that’s me, but that’s not my--” 

“I’ll show you to your desk.” Without so much as a glance, the woman turned on her heel, now typing furiously on her laptop. Joohyun followed behind glumly.

This was all Jihoon’s fault. 

“So, how’s your first day going?” Jihoon asked over his bowl of ramen. He flagged down the tall waiter and ordered a bowl of rice.

“Fine,” was Joohyun’s curt answer. In truth, it was far from ideal. She had watched longingly as all the other interns were assigned with their first projects, while she was left with an empty inbox. How was she supposed to write an advice column when there was no one asking her for advice? She spent most of the morning familiarizing herself with the previous entries of The Front’s dating advice column, the most recent of which dated to the newspaper’s May issue… from 1997. 

When her supervisor told her to take a lunch break, she had made a beeline to meet Jihoon at the restaurant near the cafe he worked at. Now that she was sitting in front of him though, she wasn’t quite ready to confess that her dream job was much more mundane than she expected. “Hey, wasn’t this a fried chicken shop last semester?” 

“That bad, huh?” Jihoon clicked his tongue. Joohyun sighed - she didn’t know why she even tried to hide anything from him when he’s known her for 12 years. He probably knew some parts of her better than she did. “Come on Joo, don’t give up on Miss Soju so easily. It’s just because you’re a little hungover. We watched The Notebook like five times this summer! What more do you need to know about true love? Do you want me to set you up on another date with that freakishly tall dude for more hands-on experience? Ah, speak of the devil!” 

“Thanks, Mingyu.” Joohyun took the bowl of rice and gave the server a sweet smile, which greatly contrasted with the glare she shot at Jihoon soon after. The server, a stunning boy with jet-black hair and tanned skin, stuck his tongue out at Jihoon. She waited until Mingyu went to the other side of the restaurant to serve a rowdy group of boys to whisper-shout at Jihoon. “Can you try not to expose my identity to the whole campus before I even get the chance to write my first ever entry?” 

“Ohhh, that’s why you’re sulking. No one’s sent you a letter yet so you didn’t get to do anything today,” Jihoon said. It sometimes got annoying how he could read her like she was his worn-out copy of his favorite sports manga.  She had to admit though, he did find ways to make it worth it. Like when he said, “I might actually be able to help you with that one, if you want. I can make a little shout out for Miss Soju on my stream tonight. For a small price, of course.” 

“You’re streaming tonight?” The girl perked up from poking at her noodles. Over the past three years, Jihoon had built up a cult following through Woozi’s Universe, a Twitch stream where he shared music made by the underground artists on campus (including him). He only ever released new music on Mondays, so tonight would definitely have a large viewership. Joohyun immediately went into her business pose lest she show how eager she really was. “Well, what would you like in exchange, Mr. Lee?” 

“I merely request that you pay for my lunch today, Ms. So,” he replied. Joohyun looked in horror at Jihoon, a petite man who ate like he was three boys going through puberty; today alone he had had an extra-large bowl of ramen, three orders of rice, and two cans of Coke. 

Then, she imagined facing an empty inbox for the rest of the week. Yup, this was  definitely worth it. That didn’t stop her from making a show of taking out her wallet, taking care to sigh extra  loudly. She had to give Jihoon his moment to revel in his triumphs, otherwise he would get grumpy. 

Jihoon cackled giddily. “Pleasure doing business with you as always, Ms. So.” 

“Pretty sure my hangover is coming back.”

“Oh shit, shut up!” Jihoon suddenly yelped and ducked underneath the table.

“What the hell, Jih--” 

“No, don’t say my name! He might hear you and then I’ll have to talk to him,” Jihoon whispered, jerking his head towards a bright yellow blur skipping to the back of the restaurant. “He’s one of my fans. He found out I worked at the cafe and now he keeps coming in to talk to about how sad his sex life is.”

Joohyun pursed her lips and peeked a glance over. He had joined the table of rowdy boys.  “Hmm, maybe I should say hi... he seems like a potential Miss Soju reader.” 

“Just pay the check already, woman!” 

The new interns at The Front were not the only students sporting hangovers that day. This can only be expected of the second week back at MU. Sunday night had been the explosive finale of a full week of department welcome parties, happy reunions, and lots and lots of alcohol. Some of the incoming freshmen were convinced that Mansae University was not actually a school, but a training ground for surviving as many shots of soju as physically possible. That is until they woke up on Monday morning and still had to drag themselves to their 9AM’s, suddenly faced with the reality of what college really was: an endless cycle of perpetual hangovers and school work that’s due way too soon. 

This was all good news for the new ramen shop on campus, which had been serving the hoards of hungover zombies since 10AM. Vernon, who was in great pain from the night before, had been ambushed by his roommate after his morning class. He was brought to the restaurant under the pretense of curing his woes with a bowl of warm soup and noodles. When he caught sight of a man in red waiting for them at a back table though, he immediately knew what was actually coming. 

“Hello Vernonnie,” Seungcheol greeted him with a sly smile. “Care to take a seat next to me?”

“Uh, not really,” Vernon mumbled, but he sat down anyway. He scrunched his nose at his roommate as the boy slumped into the seat in front of him. “Traitor.”

“Sorry babe, Seungcheol hyung promised me free lunch. Also, you’re one to talk, after you abandoned me to fend for myself last night--! Ugh,” his roommate, Seungkwan, clutched at his head, where a rusty hammer persistently tapped away at his temple. “Hyung, why did you do this to me? My face is gonna be bloated for the rest of the week. I have an audition in two days, you know!” 

“Hey, I did ask you if you were sure you wanted-- what was that you ordered? Oh yeah-- ‘the strongest drink that is legal to serve in South Korea’!” Seungcheol said, his eyes wide. As he got more defensive, he began to point his finger excessively at Seungkwan. “And what was it all for? To impress your new crush?” 

“I am way too hungover to get lectured by a couple of hypocrites,” Seungkwan grumbled. “I was trying to get some inspiration, you know, a drunken spark of genius! How else am I supposed to figure out how to confess to them?”

“Okay, I wasn’t actually asking,” Seungcheol ignored Seungkwan’s offended gasp in favor of turning his attention to a fidgeting Vernon. His cherry red lips now returned to its wide grin. “I am here to discuss where our dearest Vernon went off to last night.” 

“Um.” Vernon answered with a nervous smile. “I just went home early--”

“Bullshit!” Seungkwan looked absolutely scandalized. “It wasn’t enough to abandon me, so now you’re lying too? I don’t know if I can take much more of this!” 

Vernon had only officially known Seungkwan for two whole weeks, but with the way the two had been inseparable since move-in day, everyone at the freshmen dorms had assumed that they had known each other for years and years. He knew that someone like Boo Seungkwan was a rare find as far as random dorm assignments went, and that not everyone was so lucky to have a roommate that reminds them to eat real food once in a while or a friend who’s willing to take care of them when they get their first real hangover. Just for that day alone, Vernon knew that Seungkwan deserved to know where he went. Plus he shared a room with him, so it’s not like he could hide anything anyway.

Seungcheol shook his head and slung an arm around Vernon’s shoulder. His grip wasn’t tight but firm enough that Vernon knew he was trapped there until he confessed the truth. “Look, I don’t need any details! I just wanted to make sure that you’re staying safe and all that junk. Also, I would like to know what base you got to.” He erupted into a fit of giggles, but soon cleared his throat to return to his investigation. “Really though, tell us what happened.” 

It wasn’t like Vernon didn’t want to tell Seungcheol either. Vernon’s and Seungcheol’s families had known each other since the two boys were in middle and high school, and when he found out that Seungcheol would be a senior at Mansae University that year, he felt some of his nerves ease up about moving out. Seungcheol had always been like an older brother to him, and was always there when he needed his help in high school. He trusted him! 

That’s probably why he subconsciously blamed Seungcheol for the pain he was going through at the moment. When the upperclassman had offered to sneak Vernon and Seungkwan into a party at the karaoke bar that he bartended at, the two freshmen all too eagerly accepted without thinking of any consequences. They had received no pointers, no words of caution. How were they supposed to know that bar parties were completely different from welcome dinners? And how was Seungkwan supposed to know that downing so many cocktails within the hour wasn’t a good idea? Most importantly, how was Vernon supposed to know that he would meet someone like her there? Vernon groaned into his hands as he could no longer resist the flood of memories from the night before, and leaned into Seungcheol’s shoulder as he tried to recoil from his past self. “Hyung, it hurts too much to say out loud.”

“It’s okay buddy, take your time,” Seungcheol patted his head gently and called the tall server over. Vernon continued to let out unintelligible noises of regret while the senior ordered bowls for all three of them. “How are you even hungover right now? I only remember giving you one drink last night before you went off with--”

“I’m not hungover.”

“Oh. Then what are you?”

“An idiot,” Vernon mumbled through his fingers. “A big, cringy idiot.” 

Seungkwan raised his hand, looking frantically between the two boys. “Excuse me? Did I miss the reading homework? Went off with who? Last night? What? How drunk was I?!” 

“Very drunk, but that’s not why you didn’t notice Vernon’s new friend. You were a little occupied with your own conquest,” Seungcheol stage-whispered from across the table. “Honestly, you two are wild. It’s only two weeks into fall semester and you’re already out here simping.”

“Um, and? I saw you making googly eyes at several ladies last night!” The higher Seungkwan’s voice rose, the harder the rusty hammer banged inside his head. “Ow.”

“Those were just my friends who happened to be ladies! Sorry that my eyes are just naturally soft and alluring,” Seungcheol said, batting his long, dark lashes at the boy. “What were her eyes like, Vernon? I only noticed that she had a nose ring. Couldn’t really see her properly while you two were ‘talking’ in the corner...” 

“The corner! A nose ring!” Seungkwan repeated and clutched at his chest. “Tell me more.” 

“We were just talking!” Vernon finally spoke, his face stuck in an embarrassed grimace. “There’s not really much more to tell. I just know that she’s the coolest girl I’ve ever met and I’ll never meet anyone like her again.”

“What! You two were talking for like two hours! And I saw you leaving with her!” Seungcheol said a little too loudly for Vernon’s liking. The server gingerly approached their table with their orders, setting the bowls down as quickly as possible before rushing away. Vernon noted to give him a big tip when they left. “Don’t tell us that’s all.”

“I just dropped her off at her apartment and went back to the dorms,” Vernon confirmed to Seungcheol’s horror. “I really didn’t want it to be just last night.”

“So... you asked her out?” 

“No.”

“You got her number?”

“No.”

“Her Instagram? Her Twitter? Her student ID number? Do you even know her name?” 

“I already said I was an idiot,” Vernon whined. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about it. But yes, I did at least get her name.”

It was the only thing he could think of since he woke up. She was the only thing he could think of since he woke up. The way her eyes had lit up while they talked about her major. The way her lips had curved into a clever smile when she told a joke. The way her small hand had fit in his as they walked to her apartment. Then, he would remember how he completely fucked it all up before he started, and his headache would return full-force. 

“Dude.” Seungcheol fixed him with a stern stare, but it was kind of hard to take him seriously when his mouth was full of noodles. “Have you never asked a girl out before?”

“You know I have! I don’t know what happened either, okay? I guess I just froze up when she looked at me… then I just went home after telling her good night.”

Seungcheol feigned a gag. “Gross. I was joking earlier, but you’re an actual simp. Hate to break it to you like this.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” Seungkwan piped up from where he comfortably rested his head on the table.

“That’s nice, Seungkwan, but ‘sweet’ isn’t gonna get either of you laid,” Seungcheol chuckled. “Vernon, your girl was clearly waiting for you to make the next move. Trust me, girls don’t just ask anyone to walk them home.”

“I didn’t want to look like a creep!” Vernon sullenly stared down at his untouched bowl of noodles. “What am I supposed to do now, hyung?”

“Yeah, lend us your wisdom, O Alluring One,” Seungkwan chanted. “You clearly have plenty of experience from the past three years. 

“Like I said, I just have a lot of friends,” Seungcheol shrugged, then suddenly checked the time on his phone. “Oh shit--  speaking of friends, I have to meet one for a study session at her apartment in 15 minutes.”

“Sounds nasty.”

“Your mom’s nasty,” Seungcheol retorted with a provocative smile. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Boo! Then maybe you’d be able to think of how to confess.”

“Uncalled for!”

He placed several bills on the table and checked his phone again. “This should be enough to cover lunch, kiddos. I wish I could help you two, but I’m booked for the rest of the day. And the week.”

“But what if I meet her again?” Vernon asked desperately. 

“Then text me! I might not reply right away though. I’ve got two classes later and then I have dinner plans--”

“Another girl I presume--”

“Shut up! I also have to go to the gym before doing… uh, doing a thing. And then I have a shift at 24H.” Seungcheol stood up and looked at the distressed boys before him, his soft eyes more affectionate than alluring. Was he like this as a freshman? He reached over to ruffle the freshmans' heads. “You two should probably leave soon, too. I’ll see y’all later!” 

And just like that, Seungcheol was gone, and Vernon was once again left without any advice from the senior. Vernon was never one for dramatics, but his personal failures felt like a gray cloud of shame hanging over him. He began to worry that he was just gonna have to live like this forever, because nothing in the world was bright enough to break through his doom and gloom (well, her smile probably could, but Vernon was never going to see that again). The fact that Seungkwan seemed like he was about to Train to Busan his ass any minute now didn’t really lift his spirits either.

Lucky for him, the universe was not going to let him give up so easily. At that moment, a boy with glaringly yellow hair and a heavy camera on his shoulder bursted through the entrance. His smile brightened when he spotted the two boys in the back and he didn’t hesitate to bound towards them, skipping right past the server welcoming him in. “Seungkwan! I knew I’d find you here.”

“Dearest Vernon, it seems we have been joined by the lovely Soonyoung hyung. Perhaps he might know the medicine we require to ease our ailments in love,” Seungkwan suddenly stood up, all signs of his hangover expertly hidden. He smiled directly into the camera lens. “Hyung, would you kindly share your wisdom with us lowly freshmen? Pray tell, how does one woo the object of their affection?”

Vernon, who was well-acquainted with Seungkwan’s antics by then, watched on in silent amusement. If anything could distract him from his internal turmoil for a moment, it was Seungkwan; even if he was just spewing nonsense. What really made him crack up though, was the way Soonyoung (that was his name, right?) was clearly trying very hard to suppress his giggles. “Um,” Soonyoung managed to  cut in breathlessly. “You know I’m not rolling, right? Also, I didn’t understand any of the words that just left your mouth, but it definitely felt like you were putting some sort of ancient curse on me. Hi, I’m Soonyoung by the way!”

Vernon introduced himself and shook Soonyoung’s hand. Seungkwan could only sigh in exasperation at Soonyoung’s lack of culture (not that he was surprised of course). The boy apparently thought it was a good fashion choice to leave his apartment wearing a tiger print button-up. “I was  asking if you could help us out with confessing to our crushes,” Seungkwan said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Ohh, that’s what you said!” Soonyoung laughed until he was keeled over, clutching his stomach. Vernon and Seungkwan could only watch him with great expectation. When the boy finally caught his breath and wiped the sweat from his brow, he gave the boys a very serious look. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten any since January. So you should probably ask someone else.” 

This also did not surprise Seungkwan. 

“Excuse me?” The tall server approached them again, clearly giving them his best ‘I hate working in retail’ smile. “If y’all are done eating, could you please leave? You’re disturbing the other customers.” 

“I’m eating, I’m eating!” Soonyoung smiled until his cheeks reached his eyes, a power move that he saves for occasions where he found himself in trouble, which happened more often than he’d care to admit. Once the server let them be, muttering something about not getting paid enough, Soonyoung turned his killing smile onto the two boys. “Can I have some of this? I can Venmo y’all later, I’m pretty broke right now.” 

Vernon pushed his uneaten ramen towards Soonyoung, who looked at him as if he was the sun itself. The boy carefully set down his film camera and immediately began slurping away. Vernon nodded his head towards the contraption and asked why he was carrying it around.

 “Oh, I rented it before coming to find Seungkwan. I’m thinking about making him the subject of my film project this semester, since the theater program is pretty buzzed that he’s joining this year!” Soonyoung patted the camera affectionately.

“‘Thinking about?’ I thought I was your final choice!” Seungkwan blurted. The ramen he had for lunch seemed to have finally restored some of his strength, because he no longer clutched at his temple when his voice rose.

“I said ‘most likely’ choice! I just want to keep my options open,” Soonyoung responded with great care. He didn’t want to hurt Seungkwan’s feelings, but he was definitely re-evaluating alternate subjects at the moment.  “It’s only the second week!”

“This is why you’re single,” the theater major said in a huff. “Lack of commitment!”

“Hey! I am perfectly capable of commitment. It’s the girls that don’t want to commit, ” Soonyoung said in a small voice, and looked off into the distance wistfully. “I really hope Woozi does put out a new song tonight. Maybe he’ll tweet something soon.” 

“Woozi? Who’s that?” Vernon asked. At this point, he was just looking for anything that would fend off his memories, which lingered at the edges of his mind and waited for moments of silence to bring him another fresh glass of cringe. He was pretty sure that he had experienced well above the recommended daily serving. 

“Oh, he’s a Twitch streamer from MU! I was actually gonna say if you two are really struggling in the love department, you should definitely check out his stream tonight.” Soonyoung nearly wiggled with enthusiasm. “He usually promotes songs from artists around the area, but his self-composed songs are my personal favorites. They’ve been what’s getting me through this dry spell, honestly.”

“Oh, that sounds pretty cool.” It sounded like it was right up Vernon’s alley, actually. 

Soonyoung nodded. “You listen to them and you just feel hopeful to find the kind of love he sings about. I’ll send you the link later!” 

“Underground artists? No thanks, I think I’ll stick to Eva Noblezada,” Seungkwan scoffed. “I don’t really think a stranger can help me with my problems. They don’t even know me.” 

“Oh come on, Kwan. Let’s just give it a shot!”

Even after all his grumbling, Seungkwan still sat beside Vernon at one of the desks in their dorm later that night. They had opened the link Soonyoung had sent them, and munched on some snacks while they waited for the stream to start up. Vernon waited with baited breath for his distraction to begin; he had spent most of the day attempting to wall off any thoughts of her or last night, but it was kind of difficult to think of anything else when all of his professors only droned on and on about quizzes and homework. 

When a boy with fair skin and burgundy hair came into frame, he nearly sighed in relief. The streamer appeared to be sitting in a small, dark office only illuminated by his computer screen and several pink neon signs that hung on the walls. Vernon could recognize the faint outlines of several guitars and a keyboard behind him. The boy clicked around for a while as more people joined the stream before finally waving into the camera. 

“Hi guys, welcome in! Thanks for joining Woozi’s Universe. If you’re new here, I’m Woozi and I like to write songs sometimes. If you’re an old subscriber, I’m really sorry for the long wait.  I’ve been working on a lot of projects, doing some collabs - I’ll actually be releasing one of those collabs tonight and I’m really excited for you guys to hear it. If you have any new songs you want to listen to together, go ahead and leave them in the chat!”

As soon as the stream started flowing, Vernon immediately knew why Soonyoung gave Woozi such rave reviews. The guy just had good vibes and he definitely knew his music. Vernon was hooked. Even Seungkwan, try as he might to look disinterested, couldn’t help bopping his head occasionally.

“Thanks for the subscription @chweinggum! You just helped me reach my tenth new sub for tonight, and you guys know what that means. Time for the new song! It was really fun to write this with my collaborator, so we really hope you like it!” 

After spending the past hour just vibing in Woozi’s Universe, discovering new songs and artists, Vernon had really hyped himself up to hear the streamer’s personal work. If Soonyoung’s words were true, this would be the song that would truly heal his heartache, the song that would push him to forget about the whole ordeal. He listened in anticipation as pleasant harmonies played through his laptop speakers. But as the song progressed, Vernon did not quite feel the reprieve he was hoping for. In fact, he was kind of taken aback. The lyrics… felt like they told his story. Maybe not word for word, but enough to make Vernon stare at the laptop screen with his mouth open. What kind of hocus pocus, That’s So Raven, mind reading shit was this? The song broke down the walls he had tried to build throughout the day and left him vulnerable to its strangely upbeat and energetic tune. 

He had to admit that he didn’t hate it. The cringe from his own actions did not disappear, but the song helped him focus more on the moments that made his heart flutter, the moments that incited those pesky butterflies in his stomach. They were the moments that made him so hard on himself in the first place and the reasons why it hurt so much that he messed up. She had made him feel seen. She had done everything right. And all he wanted to do was to show her that he saw her too. He just had to figure out how. 

Woozi clapped his hands loudly when the song came to an end, bringing Vernon out of his deep reverie. “And that was Pretty U by yours truly! I collaborated on it with an artist who doesn’t want to be named as of now, so I’ll just say it was great to work with such a talented person and I hope to work with them again soon! Anyway, we know the lyrics are pretty cheesy, but let’s just say it’s based on a juvenile romance! I tried capturing that giddy feeling of liking someone and wanting to tell them pretty words but losing confidence at the last second. I’m sure we’ve all been there before.”

Vernon sat up, nodding his head as if Woozi could see him. After his song scanned his soul like that, Vernon figured it wasn’t impossible.

“I know that some of my subscribers listen to me because they go through these kinds of hardships. But I wanted to say that my songs can’t fix everything. Even I go through it sometimes and I need someone to lean on. There’s actually a new thing I just found out about from a friend - ‘Dear Miss Soju’. It’s a column that they’re gonna start publishing on The Front’s website, and you can anonymously write in all your burning questions about love, relationships, or sex. So if you’re having a hard time confessing like in this song, just know that there’s someone out there to help you out!

“Since you’ll be anonymous, you can write about your heart’s deepest desires, even if it’s a little freaky. Yes, I’m talking to you, user @callmesoon, please stop trying to tell me about your sex life. Anyway, I’ll put the email in the description for anyone that’s interested!” Woozi paused to laugh at several of the comments. “No guys, The Front does not sponsor me. But I can tell you about a company that does sponsor me. Hello Fresh--”  

Seungkwan closed the laptop and sighed. “Well, that didn’t help me at all. Soonyoung hyung said this Woozi guy was gonna make me feel better, but now he’s just telling us to spilll all our secrets to some other stranger. What a scam! Right, Vernon? Vernon?”

By the time Seungkwan turned to look at his friend, Vernon was already writing his second draft for his email. The boy sighed again. Maybe he could give it a shot.

The next morning, Joohyun opened up her laptop to find thirteen emails in her inbox. She smiled. 

Now she could get to work.

[moodymidnightkitten]

Silver Bells Part 1

A/N: Welcome back! I meant to post yesterday but I was busy with work and getting my thigh tattooed banged out all at once in 3.5 hours, which hurts, immensely by the way. But I present to you my fic featuring the man whose last name I use as my own on Facebook, the handsome and infamous, Kakashi Hatake. Enjoy! 

w/c:1809

Pairing: Kakashi x Reader

Genre: light fluff with mostly set building 

Hit this for my masterlist!

It's been a long journey, and one you never saw yourself making. Not in all 25 years of your life, but you've received orders from a man you never met, that was given to your mother when he left after their short but apparently intense fling. 

Jiraiya, your apparent father had made sure to inform your mother that if word was to get back to her about his death she would make sure you went to the Leaf Village. And that's where you were headed now. Actually coming up to the gates now. 

Completely lost as to where to go when you stepped past the gates you spotted a stand where two shinobi sat. So you made your way over to them. 

"Uhm, good morning.." you quietly said to one of the men, who looked up to you and smiled. 

"Good morning! You look lost, what can I do for you?" He smiled at you and was being very courteous, something you didn't expect being a stranger in the village. 

"Honestly, I don't know, my father wanted me to come here after his passing given this was his home village, you might know him more than I did, but his name was Jiraiya," the smile slipped off the shinobi face at the mention of your fathers name. 

"Oh, well let me bring you to the Hokage, she will be of more assistance to you," said the shinobi, now walking out from the stand and giving a look to the other who was still sitting. 

"That seems like a lot buts its very appreciated, to be honest, I don't know much about my father, nothing worth noting at least," and you filled in the shinobi as you walked through the village. Also making sure to take in your surroundings. 

"Given his nature, this was most certainly expected," the shinobi tried to play off what he said as some dumb joke but even though you didnt know him a lot, it was still disrespect to the man who offered half of himself to create you. 

The rest of the trip was silent until you two came up to a dome-like building, climbing the stairs and walking through hallways until you reached a set of double doors. The shinobi knocked. 

"Tsunade, there's an immediate and important person here for you to see,' he peeked his head in after originally gaining permission, you heard a female voice grant permission to let you in, the shinobi held open the door for you as you walked in, closing it behind you, you realized he left you hear with a big chested blonde woman with beautiful blue eyes, this must be Tsunade, the Hokage. 

"And who might you be?" She asked, keeping attentive eye contact. 

"I'm, y/n, Jiraiya's daughter," you held your hands together in front of you. You swear you could see all emotion drain from her face, who would’ve thought news like this could shake a Hokages character, they must’ve been close you thought. After what felt like a few minutes she finally spoke again. 

“Okay, so what brings you here?” she had her hands together, fingers intertwined and elbows on the desk, basically hiding half of her face, which seemed back to normal. 

“I don't know, I was told to come here under the circumstances of his death, and here I am,” you rubbed the back of your head with one hand, feeling tense. 

“Okay, well I’ve been a friend of your father for long enough to know that even though some things he did never made sense, their was always a reason, you can stay here until we figure that out, I’ll get someone to help you with getting you to a place where you can live, just wait here for a moment,” she said, getting up and about to walk passed you, but stopping and putting an arm on your shoulder and smiling at you. Eventually leaving you in her office alone. 

You didn’t mean to peep around but you found yourself gazing over the village through the large window that wrapped itself around most of the office, taking in your apparently new home, and it looked nice, sincerely it was a change of pace from where you were living, the Tanzaku Quarters. You were deep in thought, thinking of how you left your mother to come here, from a whim of a man whom you’ve never met when you were startled by the sound of the door opening. Looking over in that direction you saw Tsunade walk back in, followed by a tall man with white hair and his facemask and his Leaf headband covering a majority of his face. 

“Y/n, this is Kakashi, he’ll be assisting you today, Kakashi, this is y/n,” she waved between you both as you walked closer to them. 

“She’s Jiraiya's daughter, see to it nothing happens to her.” The news seemed to be shocking to everyone else you’ve encountered except Kakashi. “You two may go now, as much as I would like to talk to you more, we’ll have more time for that later.” Tsunade said, walking back behind her desk and sitting. 

“Well it was nice meeting you,” you said with a bow, quickly following Kakashi who was already walking out. 

Kakashi didn’t talk much for the beginning of your journey to your new home, but that was okay you were enjoying the quiet. Casually peeping over to look at him, how nice he looked, especially his hair, which made you quite envious, how did he get such nice hair. He must’ve felt you looking at him because as his face looked down towards yours you quickly shifted your gaze to the road ahead of you. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, pausing his walking. Causing you to abruptly stop as well, not wanting to make it seem like you were overly staring at him and how nice he looked. 

“Uhh yeah, I honestly can’t remember when the last time I stopped was,” and that was all he needed to hear before walking to his left, you averted your gaze to see where he was walking and it was a little ramen shop named Ichiraku. Kakashi lightly bent over and shifted the hanging sign, making himself a resident on one of many open seats, in fact they were all open. And you sat next to him. Walking helped distract you but now that you two were calmly sitting down together you felt a little nervous to be within such close proximity of this handsome man. 

“Kakashi! Welcome back, oh, and you brought a guest!” an older man behind the counter exclaimed in moderate excitement. Overall he seemed friendly though. And didn’t ask or talk much more than that outside of getting your order. 

“So, y/n, where exactly are you from?” Asked Kakashi in between bites. 

“Tanzaku Quarters, in the Land of Fire,” you said, finishing up your ramen. And as you went to put money on the counter Kakashi was already on it, causing your hands to awkwardly touch, and it lasted longer than it should’ve, making direct eye contact with Kakashi. This small moment had you absolutely flustered, you could feel your face burning. 

“I-I got it,” you tried to insist. 

“You’re a guest, and I asked you if you wanted to eat, it’s only right that I pay.” That was probably the longest sentence you’ve heard Kakashi speak. But little did you know, Kakashi also had a blush creeping onto his face as well. 

Kakashi POV -rewind thirty minutes ago upon first meeting Y/N-

She’s stunning, she’s just standing there by the window but she looks absolutely gorgeous. But I don’t even know her, this attraction is as irrational as it gets. 

She and Tsunade seemed to have finished their conversation, I just need to bring her to the apartment I was told to bring her to and watch over her from time to time. No need to elongate the amount of time we spend together. 

We’ve only been walking for a short while, why does she look so famished, has she not stopped moving since she left home to come here? 

“Are you hungry?” the question slipped out of my mouth before I could even think about them. 

And now here we are, fingers touching and I’m getting nervous, what am I fourteen? These emotions don’t make sense but her eyes are so much more beautiful up close. 

“Let’s go,” I finally say and begin to walk out, hearing her small footsteps trying to catch up. And when she did, she was walking closer to me, my face feels like it’s on fire, but luckily we’ve made it to the apartments. She hasn’t said anything since we left Ichiraku, so she can either be feeling as awkward as I do, or she has found herself already comfortable being around me and I’m hoping for a little bit of both. 

“Here you go,” I said, handing her the keys, after stopping in front of the door. 

Your POV

The rest of the walk was quiet, which you didn’t mind, you were used to it by now, you were enjoying it, not so much as the random strangers you didn’t know looking at you, but you were content. You and Kakashi walked up the stairs of an apartment building before he once again abruptly stopped in front of you, turning around and putting his hand out, a set of keys dangling between his fingers. 

“Here you go,” he said, waiting for you to take them, so you held out your hand and he dropped them. You unlocked the door and walked in, stopping and turning around. 

“Thank you for your help, I really appreciate it,” you said, a blush creeping on your cheeks. 

“Now that you know where you’ll be living you should get some rest before adventuring anything else,” was all he said before just walking away. Which confused you because it seemed as though he was relieved to be finished doing this small task. But you couldn’t be too offended, you would probably feel like this was such a drag to do as well if you were in his shoes. You looked around the apartment getting used to your new surroundings, it really wasn’t much but it was comfortable. But something caught your eyes, something silver and small shimmered under the setting sun on the bed. 

A set of bells and a small note that read,

“Carry these, as a just in case if you do get lost.” Signed Kakashi, it was wholesome but impractical, there's no way he would always be within distance for him to hear this but you found it really endearing. You smiled and continued to get ready for bed, actually excited to be here now, and excited for what's to come.

[98prilla]

Defender

Spiritual follow up to Cornered. Inspired by @coquettishcass and their lovely art.

He doesn’t know quite how it got this bad. He just knows one minute it was fine, and the next minute it wasn’t.

Deceit had shown up, all suave suit and knowing smirk, butting in on the latest dilemma. The others dismissed him, of course.

But something was different. He could feel the frustration rolling off the side, at not being listened to, not even being given a chance, and the more he looked, the more he saw.

The scowl on Deceit's lips that he’d taken as perpetual disdain was a mask to hide the sting of being ignored, the splash of yellow on his clothes was to make himself brighter, force them to notice him. He could see the fury and hurt and hopelessness on him like a well worn coat, and frowned, thinking of Virgil.

Once they’d opened up, actually gave Virgil a chance instead of dismissing him, everything had become smoother. He’d opened up, he’d been heard, he didn’t need to be scary anymore to be accepted.  

Why was Deceit any different? He was just trying to help. He was putting on the act he thought they all might listen to, at least be forced to pay attention to, because he didn’t have a seat at the table.  

And truly, was his idea so bad? Thomas needed a break, they all knew it, perhaps he and Virgil felt it more than the others, but he needed a day off. Hed scheduled the day off, before one of his friends texted asking if he could help a friend of theirs move.

Deceit’s plan was simple: say he couldn’t. The reason didn’t really matter, Thomas was sick or had an appointment elsewhere or had family stuff going on. Patton, of course, wouldn’t hear it, thought they should help, because it was “the right thing to do" and Logan thought they should just tell the truth but…

But why not lie? Thomas needed the day. Deceit had an excuse. A simple text, no one the wiser.  

He met Virgil's eyes, who had been standing silently, anxiously, taking the arguments in. He tilted his head, teeth teasing his lip, and nodded, as if reading Roman’s mind. He nodded back. At the least he’d have Virgil on his team, then.

He cleared his throat, stepping forwards. Deceit’s eyes narrowed, shoulders tensing in anticipation of a blow yet to come. Logan simply looked done, and Patton gazed at him with those puppy dog eyes, making his next words even harder.

“I think Deceit’s right.”

“What?!” Patton.

“surely I misheard, Roman you certainly did not just agree with me.” Deceit, and Roman almost laughed at the genuine surprise in his voice.

Now it was all wrong. Patton is speaking, scolding, lecturing about the right thing to do, Logan is talking over him, trying to convince Patton that a break is needed, Deceit is defending himself, his actions, trying to defend Roman, but no one listens.

It is too loud, too confrontational, too much. Words are overlapping and he can’t hear right and he’s swamped in noise, ringing in his ears, despite his hands clapped over them because it was too loud and too much and his fault and if he was just better he wouldn’t be cowering right now, he’d be doing something-

“ENOUGH!” He flinches at the volume, so loud and so close, but the others stop their fighting and he sighs in relief at the utter silence in the wake of Virgil’s shout.

Roman realizes Virgil is standing before him, eyes crackling and arms spread, as if to hide Roman from view. He finds the gesture oddly soothing, oddly protective, Virgil shielding him from the stares, the glares.

“Kiddo-"

“Shut it, Pat.” He snaps, a hint of tempest tongue lacing his words. Roman flinches as Patton draws back as if struck, hurt flashing across his face, but Virgil clearly doesn’t care at the moment. Instead he turns to Roman, instantly softening as he crouches down before him.

“Hey, Princey. You ok?” he murmurs gently, and all he can do is shake his head because no, he’s not. He’s tired, bone deep tired. He’s been running on nothing, brainstorming for days. Just the thought of going out, of moving, makes him want to crumble to dust.  

“Ok. That’s ok, Ro.” He feels Virgil turn back to the others, hears the steel in his voice.

“Roman was right. Deceit is right. The “right thing" Pat? It’s not always the right thing for Thomas. You might not get this, but some of us are exhausted. There’s a reason today is a relaxation day. Lie, tell the truth, I don’t care. But we are not helping with a move. We are not leaving the house. Thomas is going to sit on the couch and eat chips and watch the office bloopers again and I’m going to go take care of Roman, and no, you cannot help,” Virgil stopped Patton before he could speak “because if you’d just listened for once instead of berating and scolding him for having an opinion different than yours, he wouldn’t be like this!” His tempest tongue had returned on his final words, and even Deceit looked shocked at his outburst, but he didn’t care, right now.

“Don’t come find us until you’re ready to apologize and mean it.” Roman is as stunned as the others when Virgil turns back to him. He is amazed at how fast that face goes from hard and furious to soft and concerned.

“Your room?” He asks, and Roman nods, he doesn’t care, really, just needs to not be here, and his room will do as well as anywhere else. Virgil nods, placing a hand on his shoulder, and they sink out.

“sorry" is the first word out of his mouth as they rise up in his room, face burning with shame. What kind of prince falls apart this easily, can’t handle a simple argument, made a fool of themselves as he had?

“Nope.” Virgil, popping the “p". He looks up, confused, despite his tone, Virgil is watching him seriously.

“W-what?”

“I have reviewed your apology and rejected it,” Roman wilted, seeming to grow smaller, “because it’s unnecessary and you have nothing to apologize for, Ro.” Virgil finishes firmly and Roman simply gapes at him because of course it’s his fault, everyone is upset because he spoke up.

He realizes Virgil is looking around the room, and internally curses. It’s a mess right now, crumpled up papers strewn across the floor, rejected ideas thrown aside, his art supplies scattered throughout the room, his clothes tossed everywhere. He hadn’t had the energy to clean it, to stop trying to think because it was his job and he could do it, just one more idea, and he’d call it a night.

“Roman.” He jumps. He’d forgotten Virgil was there, he’d zoned out. He was swaying on his feet, unable to hide just how tired he was without the others there to pretend for.

And Virgil is furious, he knows exactly why Roman didn’t speak up, didn’t tell them it was this bad, that he desperately needed a break, that he was one step away from falling apart. But it isn’t Roman's fault, and he doesn’t want Roman thinking he’s angry with him, so he pushes that away in favor of kinder feelings as he realizes Roman is crying, silent tears, face almost numb.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” he guides Princey to his bed, he's almost sleep walking, and climbs beneath the covers with no added coaxing. He tucks Roman in, about to excuse himself when Roman’s hand grabs his wrist. He doesn’t speak, but the desperation in his eyes is easy to read and Virgil softens.

“You want me to stay?” Roman nods so fast it makes Virgil chuckle. “ok, Ro. Music?” He asks, and Roman nods again. Virgil pulls out his phone and taps on the playlist he’d made ages ago for moments like this, when he was feeling overwhelmed. A mix of instrumental tracks, ambient noise, calming songs.  

“When you feel better I’ll help you clean all this up, yeah? Maybe we can play a Smash tourney or something.” Virgil says as he sets his phone down on the nightstand, looking back over to Roman. He is still crying, curled tight, but he nods slightly, smiles bravely. Virgil lets out a smile himself, surprising Roman by slipping under the covers with him, becoming the big spoon. Usually that’s Roman’s role, the protector, the warmth giver, but today Roman could use the safety and security more than Virgil could.  

He’s proven correct as Roman curls tighter against him, burying his head against Virgil’s chest, crying until his sniffles die down into breathy gasps. Virgil is holding him tightly, murmuring sweet things in his ear, how special he is, how important, how amazing, how remarkable, how talented and strong and brave, and Roman doesn’t have the energy to argue against him, because Virgil is wrong. He is none of those things, doesn’t feel like any of those things, he feels weak and silly and stupid. Especially after today.  

But Virgil won’t hear it, just responds fiercely that he’s wrong, he’s worth so much more than he knows, than any of them realize or acknowledge, that he is important and very, very loved, until Roman starts to maybe believe him, just a bit.

“thanks.” He manages, feeling himself starting to drift. It’s warm, and quiet, and Virgil’s presence screams of safety and calm and peace, and he can’t help but succumb to his exhaustion.  

“Of course, Ro. I’m always here. I’ll always help, if you need it. Doesn’t matter if it’s Remus or Patton. I’ll be here.” Roman wraps his arms around Virgil’s middle, hugging him just as tightly as Virgil was, taking in his scent of coffee and wood shavings, never having been more grateful in his life for Virgil.  

They would worry about the others later. Right now, right here, they were content to catch up on all the sleep they’d been missing.

[daemongal]

Snow day

So this ended up getting finished a day late, but this is a fic I wrote for @copper-wasp for secret valentines! Hope you enjoy some fluffy fun times with Dante in the snow ^.^ 

Warnings: None!

Word count: 2300

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the light in the room as you woke, body warm and safe from the winter air under the thick quilt with Dante’s heavy arm was wrapped around your waist holding you close against his chest. You yawned quietly, stretching your legs and neck before letting out a light groan. 

You had made plans with your boyfriend for Valentines day and you knew you would need to get up and pull yourselves around eventually, a highly unappealing thought from your current position. After a few more moments you threw off the blanket, hissing as the cold hit your skin.

You heard an unintelligible grumble as the arm around your waist tightened, stopping any attempt of lifting yourself up.

“Mmm, stay a little longer babe. We’ve got all day.” He nuzzled his face between your shoulder blades, planting a few lazy kisses against your skin. You sighed, melting into his hold before twisting yourself to turn over so you could face him. He squinted before opening one eye, expression immediately softening as he met your gaze. You pecked him on the nose before nuzzling into his chest with a content sigh. 

“I’ll go make us coffee if you let me move.”

“No.” He replied abruptly, pressing his lips against the top of your head. “I’m holding you captive, that’s it.” 

“Oh no, the cuddle monster has captured me,” you spoke dryly, voice heavy with sarcasm, “whatever shall I do.”

“Hmm, if you pay the toll he just might let you go for the promise of coffee.” You smirked, lifting your head to see his eyes scrunched closed and his lips puckered. You ran fingers lightly over his jawline before pressing your lips to his in a gentle, chaste kiss. Dante’s arm lifted from you as your lips left his.

“Fine, I’ll let you go; but this was a one-time deal capiche?” 

“Oh mighty, generous cuddle demon,” you spoke as you lifted yourself from the bed, grabbing your discarded dressing gown from the floor and throwing it over yourself, “I thank thee for taking mercy on me.” You stretched your arms, revelling in the rewarding chuckle you were granted. 

You reached for the curtains, planning to let in a little natural light to make sure Dante didn’t fall back asleep. You pulled the curtains apart, mouth dropping open as you were met with the view of completely snow covered streets, thick layers of untouched white as far as your eyes could see. Your gawking must have caught Dante’s attention as he quickly appeared behind you, chin resting on your head to check out the view. 

He whistled in surprise, lazily throwing his arms over your shoulders as you continued to look on in stunned silence. You didn’t even know it snowed in Capulet, many winters had gone by with not a single flake falling from the sky, now suddenly the streets were covered with a layer thicker than any you’d seen before.

“Well, as much as I’d love to say our plans are still on, I don’t even think Cavalierre would manage through snow that thick, especially not if I have you in tow; it’s not worth the risk. But look on the bright side,” his arms suddenly slipped around your waist, picking you up effortlessly as you let out a surprised yelp before he span you on the spot, “snow day!”

You couldn’t help but get caught up in his child-like enthusiasm as you threw up your arms in the air in delight. He placed you back on the floor before quickly turning to scoop up his clothes and start getting dressed.

“C’mon! It’s all fresh and untouched, we gotta be the ones to run through it first!” He hastily pulled up his trousers, hopping on one foot across the room while putting on a boot. You giggled at his excitement, grabbing some clothes from the floor and getting dressed as quick as you could. By the time you were done, Dante was already downstairs, grumbling at the front door.

“Ahh shit. Wind must have blown a snow drift against the door and it won’t open.” You passed him a puzzled look.

“Surely you’re strong enough to just, you know, push it.”

“Well, I mean I could but it’ll probably break and I don’t think Vergil would be… best impressed if it needed fixing… again.” He had a fair point, Vergil’s wrath was not something you particularly wanted to bear witness to any more than was necessary.

“Soooooo… how are we gonna get outside then,” you questioned, “we can’t waste snow day cooped up in here!” Dante’s brow furrowed in thought as he considered his options, turning to stare at the door once more.

“I mean, a new door shouldn’t costs that much ri-”

“Don’t break the door Dante,” you interjected as he threw up his arms in defeat with an exasperated ‘fine’. Suddenly his eyes lit up and a smile spread up his cheeks, the kind of smile that normally means he’s up to no good. He dashed past you to head up the stairs and, after a roll of your eyes you decided to follow.

“Okay, so what genius plan have you hatched up this ti-” you were cut off abruptly as you were lifted from the ground by arms that were suddenly back around your waist. “D-Dante, what are you doing?!” you yelled over your shoulder as he walked you backwards towards the bedroom, specifically to the bedroom window. 

“Just taking a shortcut is all.” You glanced over your shoulder to see that the large bedroom window had been lifted fully open as the bitter outside wind blew into the room. He scooted himself backwards until his back was flush with the window, a large grin on his face. You opened your mouth to object before he cut in. 

“Brace for impact!” 

On his words, he threw himself backwards with you, free falling through the air as your words of objection were lost behind a shocked scream. 

All the air left Dante’s lungs past your ear as you hit the ground bunched against his chest. Luckily for you the snow and the body of the half-demon more than cushioned the fall, but it didn’t stop you from letting out a whine of discontent. Dante groaned beneath you.

“Okay, that seemed like a great idea in my head, but it turns out,” you heard the crack of his neck as he twisted his head left and right, “probably could have done with a bit more snow to get away with that.” Now was the perfect time for you to be concerned, however your boyfriend was a super healing half-demon, and he just gave you the fright of your life. Instead you opted to grab a handful of snow, sitting yourself up and turning to throw it straight into his face.

He spluttered, shaking his head as a dog would when wet, quickly sitting up with you.

“Hey! I could have been seriously hurt and that’s the first thing you do!” You grabbed another handful, repeating the action before he pushed you off his lap and into the snow. You huffed with a smirk on your lips, turning to reach for more snow to weaponise. 

You spun, readying your quickly put together snowball before feeling the impact and sting of your cheek as a snowball hit you square in the face. You looked up, mouth agape at the cheek of it to see him nonchalantly juggling another snowball in his hand with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Don’t give whatcha can’t take sweetheart.” You smiled, eyebrows scrunching in determination as you hopped to your feet, brandishing your own snowy weapon. The surrounding snow was quite deep, coming up just past the half-way point of your shins.

“Now we both know I can give as good as I take, right baby?” You noticed his eyes darken for a split second as he gazed over you with an intensity.

“Oh it’s on.” the snowball fight that ensued was disgustingly one-sided. Naturally he dodged each of your throws like it was nothing, countering it perfectly with ones of his own. For each one you proudly dodged, another quickly followed, although he was kind enough to not hit you in the face every time. 

You know you should be mad at how proudly he displayed his obvious advantage, but he knows that you hate it even more when he lets you win. Sure, that means that even small victories are few and far between with him, but it always makes them all the more sweeter. When you manage to dapple his coat with a few stray flakes of snow, it gives you a little shot of pride; not very long-lived pride, but pride nonetheless.

After a few minutes of being relentlessly pummelled you dropped backwards into the snow in defeat.

“I yield, oh mighty cuddle demon! I’m no match for your prowess.” You splay out your arms and begin to move them up and down through the snow, opening and closing your legs at the same time. Dante stood over you, a puzzled look on his face.

“What’re you doing, waving around like that?”

“I’m making a snow angel,” you answered, arms stilling when the confused look didn’t leave, “you do know what a snow angel is right?” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“Erm, should I?” You sat up in shock, slowly standing trying to not disturb the pattern left in the snow.

“Look, it leaves an imprint that looks like an angel, see?” 

“I mean, I kinda see it. Pretty cool that it can give you wings like that though.”

“Yeah! Why don’t you try it?”

“Me, making a snow angel? Don’t you see the irony in that.” He paused, that thoughtful scowl appearing on his brows again as he carefully glanced around as if checking for something before smirking and tapping his forehead. “I got a better idea.” 

A bright flash filled your vision as you turned your head, squinting from the intensity before setting your eyes on the hulking form of Dante’s sin devil trigger. His jaw was set in an almost permanent smile in this form due to his large teeth, but you knew him well enough to recognise the grin hiding underneath.

He stretched out his huge arms and spread his wings, collapsing backwards into the snow. He lay for a moment, making sure the imprint was made before throwing himself up to his feet to look upon his masterpiece. You lifted your hand to muffle the laugh escaping your chest as you saw his shoulders drop as he looked down.

There was a large, shapeless patch of road visible right where he was laid. His warm body in this form not only melted away any snow under his body, but also most of the surrounding snow too. You could hear a distorted grumbling as you did your best to stop laughing to move to his side.

“Well it’s… definitely something. A snow… blob maybe?” you tried to fight back your laughter as the grumbling intensified. “I mean, if a behemoth belly flopped from the sky, directly into that spot, that’s probably… what it would l-look like-pffft.” you burst into laughter at the completely unamused look on the half demons face, made even funnier by the form he was currently in as he crossed his arms across his chest and turned away from you petulantly. 

You were nearly doubled over, tears streaming down your face as you fought to catch your breath, bursting once again when you saw him kick at some snow to try and cover up your own snow angel, only for the snow to melt on contact.

Your only reprieve from laughter was a number of sneezes as you suddenly became aware of the dampness of your clothes with the blowing of a sudden brisk breeze. You laughing came to a halt as you sniffled and hugged your arms into yourself.

You jerked as you felt large arms around your waist once more, unable to react as he dropped to the floor with you, placing you in his large lap still triggered.

“What the-” he hugged you tight, cutting you off as his large wings circled around your body.

“Gotta warm you up.” His distorted voice rang deep from his chest as you felt the heat radiating from his wings over your body, arms and legs acting like a heated blanket wrapped around you. You relaxed into his hold as the chill against your skin quickly eased, replaced by a comfortable warmth. 

You leaned your head back against his chest, glancing up into the sky, inhaling a short breath as you saw the flakes of snow slowly falling once more, melting and evaporating as soon as they came close to Dante. A smile spread up your cheeks, a warm giddy feeling spreading through your chest as you heard a gentle growl coming from the half-demon behind you, a sound you could only equate to the purr of a cat.

“I know this probably wasn’t what you had planned, but so far, this has been the best Valentine's day ever. He nuzzled his face gently against the top of your head before de-triggering and lifting you up in his arms bridal style. 

“Mine too sweetheart.” He pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. You continued smiling as he kicked away the snow in front of the door and walked back in to the office with you. “Now how about I run you a bath, you’re soaked through.” You pecked him on the cheek.

“As long as you join me.” A cheeky grin spread up one side of his face.

“As if you needed to ask.”

***

I apologise for any blatant errors, my editing was pretty rushed D:

[sierraraeck]

Cleansing (Pt.1)

Spencer x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

If you are triggered by talk of sexual abuse and have not read how I have set up this fic, please do so. You can still read it without that content, just click here.

(This is my gif so please give credit if used)

Summary: Spencer needs help dealing with his dealer. Both of them are required to take two weeks off and they decide to spend those two weeks together. Things get hot and messy and emotional. There’s a lot going on. Story nine.

Category: Some angst, some fluff, some steam, some smut.

Warnings: Cussing. Drugs. Mentions of drug abuse. Shots fired. Discussion of prior sexual abuse. Oral (both receiving), penetrative (unprotected), fingering, creampie.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is my first time writing smut. Forgive me if it’s bad and I’d love to hear your feedback. Also, I know injuries don’t heal that fast but we are just going to ignore it.

Side note: Somewhere in here I hit 50k words of fanfic.

About a week or so after Spencer and I talked about our problems, the rest of the team figured it out. Or at least I assumed the rest of the team figured it out because Hotch figured it out. Well, all of it except the kiss. That no one knew about. And things would have been fine and we would have continued going to work as usual if Reid had just listened to me. But no, instead, he made a poor decision that led to us both taking a required two weeks off.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

A knock sounded at my door. I got up to check who it was through the peephole and saw that it was none other than Spencer Reid.

“Hey Doctor Genius,” I said as I opened the door to let him in. It had been two days since he’d confronted me and slept over. “What’s up?”

There was terror in his eyes, “I need your help.”

“Of course. What’s going on?” My own eyes got wider at his apparent panic.

“The guy I’m getting the drugs from. He’s threatening me,” he said. I slowly nodded.

“Threatening to what? It’s very common for dealers to threaten certain things, especially if you are late on payment. Are you in debt?” I asked.

“No, no, nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

He hesitated.

“Spencer, what?”

“I’m friends with someone who lives in the apartment complex he makes me meet him at. He’s telling me that if I don’t pay him extra, or get him information on the bureau, he is going to go in there and kill them, then expose me to the FBI,” his voice had dropped to a whisper and he sounded out of breath.

“Holy shit. How’d he find this out? Do you visit this friend often?”

“No. I’ve actually never been to the apartment complex until he made me meet him there,” Spencer said.

“What? So how does he know they live there if you’ve never visited them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think he could be bluffing?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think I can take that chance.”

I let out a huge sigh, realizing that I hadn’t exactly been breathing for the past couple of minutes. “Who’s your dealer?”

“He calls himself Koda.”

“Koda?” I confirmed, “As in, Dakoda?”

“I’d assume so,” Reid said, nodding.

“Shit!” Koda was one of the old Cloak members that I cut when making the switch to my underground ring. He didn’t go easily, and vowed that I would regret that decision. I’d caught wind that he was doing pretty well for himself right before I went to prison, and by now he was one of the most well known drug runners in the northeast.

“What? Why is that a problem?” the panic was rising in his voice.

“It’s nothing. I’ll handle it,” I said, already heading toward the door.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that this is bad, but I’m going to handle it,” I hissed.

“I’m coming with you.”

I rapidly turned to face him. “No. You’re not.”

“Yes I am. And you can’t stop me.”

“You wanna bet?” This was a situation Reid was way too close to and way too underprepared for, and I couldn’t afford having him get in more trouble than he already was. He needed to stay behind.

“Please. I got myself and my friend into this mess. Let me help get us out,” his eyes were pleading.

“Who is this friend anyway?” He just looked at me, mouth agape. He was struggling to find the right words. “Forget it. But if I’m going to be sticking my neck out for this person, they better be worth it.” I shot my eyebrows up at him.

“They are,” he quickly confirmed.

I exited my apartement, Spencer on my heels. I shut and locked my door and turned to head down the stairs. When we reached the bottom I turned to him.

“I have one rule. You let me handle this my way, and when I tell you to do something, you do it. Got it?”

“Got it.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

We reached a payphone, one that Spencer directed me to, and I unlocked the car doors to let him out.

“You make the call like you would any other. You need to meet at the usual spot and act as natural as possible,” I reminded him. He nodded and got out of the car, half speed walking, half jogging to the phone. The call only took a minute or so, and he bounced back into the passenger seat.

“How long?”

“20 minutes.” I nodded. I drove us over to the apartment complex, paying more attention now that I knew there was someone he cared about inside. Or at least he thought lived inside. We sat in the parking lot in silence, waiting for the 20 minutes to be over.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head, “I’m so stupid.”

“Reid, this isn’t your fault. You didn’t know any better. I’m just glad you came to me when you did,” I said. Yes, I was pissed that this was happening but he wasn’t to blame. He didn’t know the ins and outs of how these things worked in real time, and when it got too hard he was smart enough to ask for help instead of letting it get even messier.

The 20 minutes were up. I saw Koda peek his head out from behind the building, but no new cars had shown up. Good. He’s on foot. Which also probably means he’s alone.

“Stay here,” I said, leaving the car before Reid could protest. I reached a hand behind me, just to make sure I still had my gun, then walked confidently to the back of the complex.

When I turned the corner, Koda was grinning at me.

“Ah, Aundreya! It’s about time you showed up!”

“How’ve you been, Koda?” I indulged him.

“Oh, don’t pretend you care. We both know you’re only here to save your little pet,” he said, eyes getting bigger in excitement.

“So, how’d you know I was going to be here?”

“Please, you’re fucking everywhere! I knew you’d show up eventually. You always do.” His face looked sour.

“True. You know how much I enjoy raining on your pity parades,” I taunted.

“I do. It must hurt no longer having that amusement.”

“Not really. I, too, have moved on to bigger and better things. I don’t care if you're some hot-shot runner. You’re still just a runner,” I said, clicking my tongue and shaking my head.

“Yeah, and you of all people, are now just another one of the government’s bitches,” he said, mirroring my gestures.

“Look, I’m not here to talk about our differences in life choices. I’m just here so you know to stay the hell away from my … pet, as you so graciously put it.”

“Yeah, pass. He owes me, and I’m going to get as much bang for my buck outta this one. You understand,” he said with a wink.

I scowled and cocked my head to the side. “See, that’s the thing. I wasn’t asking.”

“You don’t control me. If you wanted to, you should have thought about that six years ago.”

I rolled my eyes and my tone was demeaning. “Still on that, huh? You have got to get over it. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, but you just weren’t good enough back then.”

“Yeah, back then. I’m definitely good enough now. Your loss.”

“If that’s what you need to hear,” I said. We stared each other down.

“But to get back to the point, I’m not going to leave your boy alone.”

“Yes. You are.”

“Or what?”

I smiled. I was hoping he would ask that. Before he could blink, I had his right forearm in my left hand, stepping my right leg behind his back. With my right hand on his side, I swiftly threw his entire body weight over my hip, and he hit the pavement with a thud, knocking the wind out of him. I held onto his right arm, now taking it in both hands, and put my foot down on his shoulder. I yanked his arm as hard as I could away from his body and he let out a screech.

I bent over so I was closer to his face. “Or next time, I won’t stop here.”

I released his arm and watched it drop right next to his scrunched up face. When I turned around, Spencer’s jaw was on the ground.

He wasn’t supposed to see that.

“What the hell!” I snarled. “I had one rule!”

He was stunned, his eyes glued to Koda, so I just grabbed his arm and yanked him down the alley that led back to my car.

“Hey, Aundreya!” I turned around to face the direction of the voice. Time moved in slow motion as I comprehended Koda aiming his gun at us. With my left hand, I went to pull Spencer behind me and with my right, I reached behind me to pull out my own gun.

Two shots rang out, one quickly followed by the other, as both men collapsed.

“Spencer!” I yelled, turning to him. He was on his knees and I sunk to mine. Both of his hands were clutching his right side, just under his ribcage.

“I’m okay,” he got out between shaky breaths. I called 911.

“Spencer, you’re going to be fine, the paramedics are on their way,” I assured.

He nodded his head in Koda’s direction. “What about him?”

Only then did I remember that there was someone else in the equation. I didn’t have to look to know that he was dead, but I checked anyway. I’d hit him right between the eyes. “He’s gone.”

I rushed back to Spencer and I cradled his head as more and more blood soaked his shirt. It started to seep through his hands so I placed one of mine on top, trying to apply as much pressure as I could.

“Where are they, dammit!” How could the ambulance be so slow?

“You know … the average ambulance response time … is approximately … nine minutes … and twenty-four seconds…” he tried through labored breaths.

“Shh. Don’t talk. I’ve got you,” I said. The blood flow wasn’t slowing down any time soon, so I removed my hands from him momentarily to take off my jacket, followed by my t-shirt.

“What are you-”

“Sh. I said no talking.” I ripped my shirt into strips, trying to make as many as possible that would also get the job done. “Move your hands.”

He obeyed and I quickly wrapped each one around his body, tying knots above and on top of his wound. I ended up getting five strips out of my t-shirt which wasn’t bad. I shuffled behind him and wrapped my arms around him like a sixth layer, pressing both of my hands on his side. I helped him lean back so that his head was resting on my shoulder. Shortly after, he added his hands on top of mine, both of us working hard to preserve as much blood as we could. We were frozen together, completely unmoving, both of us focused on his breathing.

Seven minutes later, the paramedics finally arrived.

“Miss, we are going to have to ask you to move aside,” they told me. But I couldn’t. I was firmly planted where I was, unable to force myself out of the way. “Miss?”

Spencer tilted his head slightly to look up at me. He attempted a small smile and nodded. “It’s okay. They’ve got me.”

I nodded at him, then the paramedics, and reluctantly gave up my spot behind him so they could help him. I winced when I saw them hoist him onto a stretcher and load him into the ambulance.

I had tunnel vision focused on Reid.

“Miss?” I jumped. “Is this yours?”

A young, blonde haired man was holding up my jacket. “Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks.”

“You did a great job. Those knots saved him a lot of blood.”

“Thanks,” I repeated. He smiled at me and placed a quick hand on my shoulder before getting into the other ambulance that had Koda’s body covered with a white sheet.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When I arrived at the hospital, the rest of the team had beat me there. I called them before I got into the car, following the second ambulance.

“Oh my god! What happened?” Penelope asked. She already had tears in her eyes.

“This guy was threatening Reid, so I went to talk to him about it, and he pulled his gun on us,” I quickly explained. They didn’t have to know about the drugs.

“Jeez,” JJ said, putting her hands on her head in distress. “Threatening him with what?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Just asking for information about the FBI or something.” It wasn’t my place to answer questions regarding Reid’s friend. I wasn’t 100% sure what he did and didn’t want them to know, so I tried to be as vague as possible, while also providing bits of the truth.

“How about you? Are you okay?” Emily asked. I surveyed myself and realized I looked a lot worse than I’d thought. I had slipped on my jacket before entering the hospital, but I neglected to zip it up because everything was so frantic. I had blood all over my jacket and my exposed stomach and bra. I had a few stains on my pants as well, but the worst of it was on my hands. I could tell my hair was ratted because I kept pushing it out of my face as a nervous habit. Which meant there was most likely blood in it as well.

“Uh, yeah. I’m better than I look,” I lied. I wasn’t injured, but I definitely felt like shit.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Emily said, placing a soft hand on my back, guiding me toward the bathroom.

I nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”

I was able to wash off the blood on my hands and stomach, I even put my head under the faucet to clean my hair, but my clothes were a totally different story. I didn’t have any extras, so I was forced to stay in them. I returned to the waiting area with wet hair, clean skin, and my bloodied jacket, now zipped up over my bloody bra. I sat down next to Derek and across from Aaron, Emily opting to stand behind me.

“Do you think you can answer some questions?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah. For sure.”

“Where did this happen?”

“It was behind an old apartment complex off of Revered.”

“Who were you meeting?”

“Some guy, he called himself Koda.”

“Why were you going to meet him?”

“All Reid told me was that this guy was threatening him and he needed my help. I went to talk to him, just to scare him a little. He was clearly a street rat so I knew he’d know who I am.”

“Did he show up alone?”

“Yes.”

“Did you show up alone?”

“Yes. I told Spencer to stay in the car.”

“What did you say to Koda?”

“I told him to back off, he challenged that, so I tossed him on the ground, dislocated his shoulder, and told him that if he didn’t quit messing with Reid, I wouldn’t stop next time.”

Everyone on the team knew that I could be ruthless, but each time it got explicitly pointed out, I could feel the slight tension radiating from them. I learned that part of that was rage in support of me and part of that was some other mixture of emotions against me.

“Then what?”

“Then I turned around and Reid was standing there. He wasn’t supposed to be there. I’d told him to stay in the car, I made him promise me to stay in the car. But he was there, so I tried to get us both back to the car quickly. Koda said something so I turned around, and he had drawn his gun. I reached for mine as I pulled Reid behind me. I shot Koda but not quickly enough because the next thing I knew, Reid was collapsing behind me.” Tears started welling up in my eyes at the vivid memory, the gut-wrenching feeling of panic, but I willed them not to spill over.

“What did you do then?”

“I saw that the bullet had hit him in the side and called 911. Spencer asked me about Koda, so I checked to see if he was dead and he was. I tried to apply pressure to his wound with my hands, and that’s when he informed me that it would probably take the ambulance ten minutes to arrive so I knew I had to do something else. I ripped my shirt into strips and knotted them around him, trying to stop the bleeding. It helped, but he started to bleed through onto our hands. That’s when the paramedics showed up and then we were here,” I concluded. They were all nodding at my words, gentleness in their eyes.

The doctor came out, so we all stood up, practically swarming her. “Doctor Reid is going to be fine,” we all let out a collective sigh of relief, “The bullet grazed his right side and slightly fractured his lower rib. He lost a lot of blood and we had to give him pretty extensive stitches, but he is going to be fine. He will need to be hooked up to his IV over night and put in a brace for the next couple of weeks. You can see him if you want.”

We all pushed by her, nearly tripping over each other, in order to get to his room as fast as we could. He was laying down in the hospital bed, an IV attached to his arm. He smiled at us.

“Hey guys,” he croaked. He tried to sit up but winced and laid back down.

“Hey pretty boy,” Morgan said. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible actually. How are you?” he asked, directing his attention at me.

“Well, I’m not the one in the hospital bed,” I countered.

“You always say things like that. For real,” he pleaded.

“I’m fine, rattled at most. Doing a lot better now that I know your dumbass is okay,” I said raising my eyebrows. “Why’d you do that?”

“I was worried when you hadn’t come back after a few minutes. Then I heard screaming and I had to come check on you,” he replied.

“You should have listened to me, I would have been fine. Your first instinct needs to be self preservation.”

“That’s not your first instinct,” he accused.

“Yes it is,” I defended.

“It may have been at one point, but it isn’t any more. Otherwise you wouldn’t have helped me to begin with,” he argued.

“Well there are more important people in my life now than just myself.” I looked around at the people standing in that room with me, and I was glad, and honestly relieved, that it was true.

“Aww, how sweet of you! I knew you secretly cared about me!” Morgan teased, giving me a gentle nudge.

“Oh get over yourself,” I rolled my eyes, nudging him back. I looked back at Spencer who was giving me those doe eyes. “Please, just never do that again. That goes for all of you. I don’t ever wanna see anyone else in a hospital bed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Prentiss said with a smile.

“Agreed,” Spencer said.

“I hate to break this up, but Aundreya, can I talk to you for a moment?” Hotch asked.

“Sure.” I followed him out into the hallway. “What’s going on?”

“I told the police the events you recounted to me and because it was self-defense, they are going to let you off. Of course, they are required to ask Reid a series of similar questions, corroborating your story, but you should be in the clear.” I nodded. That was good news, but there was something else. “However, because this wasn’t related to a case we were working on, I’m going to suspend you for two weeks.” There it was.

“Why?”

“A few reasons. What you went through is traumatic, you’ve been working really hard lately, and it would be good for Reid to have someone with him while he recovers. It would be good for both of you. So take the full two weeks and I don’t want to see you back before then,” he gave me a stern look that asked if I understood.

“Okay.”

He turned to walk back into Spencer’s room but quickly added, “And do everyone a favor by getting yourself and Reid clean during this time off.”

Part 2

Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

[tsarinastorm]

AA: Ashes to Ashes-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Adam listens, or attempts to listen to the current man in the front of the room talking about his battle with gambling addiction and alcoholism. But paying attention is difficult for Adam at the moment because Y/N is sitting beside him, looking perfect, and the smell of her perfume is enough to disorient him. Today she smells like roses, jasmine, and coffee. They’ve hung out a couple times, mostly over coffee, and talked as friends do. Adam found it comforting knowing that he had someone he could talk to, rant to, and spend time with. Of course, Adam never had many friends before, but he assumes those are the hallmarks of friendship. It would much easier if he didn’t want to be more than friends with Y/N, he had to constantly remind himself not to cross that line with her. He didn’t want to lose her as a friend.

           His struggle is made worse by the fact that Jessa is sitting on his other side, watching him squirm out of the corner of her eye. Since he’s been hanging out with Y/N and developed feelings for her, he’s thought about ending things with Jessa but he knows there’s a chance that Y/N won’t want anything to do with him anymore if he does that. She might take Jessa’s side. He thinks if he lets Jessa be the one to end it, it may be better for his chances with Y/N or he considers waiting until he knows that Y/N has feelings for him too. In the meantime, things will remain same.

           The man finishes talking, and everyone claps for him, including Jessa and Y/N. After the meeting, Y/N and Jessa go the restroom, together, as women normally do, and he goes over the snack table. He scoops some cookies, racing towards the ones he knows are Y/N’s favorites before they’re all taken. As Jessa and Y/N walk up to him, a man stops Y/N and tells her how he was inspired by what she had said at the last meeting. This man keeps touching Y/N’s arm and Adam can’t help but glare, then he finally interrupts them to hand her the cookies.

           “Here, I got these for you,” he tells her and the man waves then briskly leaves. Y/N takes the cookies and says, “Thanks, these are my favorites, and I think he’s getting way too attached to me.”

           “Oh yes you will have a sober buddy for life,” Adam says back and wants to kick himself for sounding lame. Y/N takes a bite of the cookie and tells him, “I can’t believe you don’t cookies or sweets, you’re like a tall alien.”

           “Yes he is. It looks like I’ve found someone else to pawn Bill off on.” Jessa chuckles talking about both Adam and the other man, and she jokingly bumps into Y/N. They keep chatting for some time, then when they walk out of the building, Y/N hugs Jessa then heads the other way. Adam is disappointed that he didn’t get to talk to her more, he must have been looking sad because Jessa questions him, “You do know that doesn’t bother me?”

           “What doesn’t bother you?” He asks because he’s not sure he’s understanding Jessa correctly. She watches Y/N walk away and holds his hand before answering, “You hanging out with her. It’s good for you. You need a friend.”

           “Thanks,” he says and gives her a slight smile, then they walk back to the apartment as Jessa chatters away but his mind is elsewhere.

*********

           Adam waits outside the building, knowing that Y/N will walk out soon. She told him to meet here before they hang out. Apparently she volunteers once a week here and it makes Adam feel like an asshole who doesn’t care about other people. Y/N walks out and Adam greets her.

           “Hey, kid.” He makes a mental note to come up with a different nickname for her. She smiles and joins him. Before they make it down the block she stops to say, “I’ve got to stop at my place to take my dog for a walk if you don’t mind.”

           He actually likes dogs and has wanted one of his own for a while, though preferably one that would work better than the one he had for a few days before he and Ray had to take him back to his owner. He can’t hide his excitement, “I like dogs, I really like dogs.”

           Y/N tucks a piece of hair behind her ear laughing at his response and they keep walking to her place. Adam is surprised to learn that she lives in Nolita, close to where Jessa used to live with Shoshanna. That must have been how they met. When they reach the apartment door, she warns him, “Bagel is still anxious around men. He’s not aggressive or anything, just timid. It might take him a while to warm up to you.”

           “Okay, I’ll give him space then,” Adam answers, thinking what the fuck kind of name is Bagel, and as soon as they walk through the door, Adam notices the apartment looks just like he expected it to be. It was very much like Y/N: classy, refined, and a bit eclectic. Books everywhere, comfy couch, candles, and a messy desk. Y/N goes over to the crate to let ‘Bagel’ out, though Adam thought the dog couldn’t have had a more wrong name. Bagel was an Australian shepherd mix who was rather large and had a dark tri-colored, speckled coat, and two different colored eyes. Bagel looks at Adam suspiciously, then follows Y/N back into the apartment kitchen. Y/N comes back with a leash, hooks Bagel up and they leave, though Adam still feels that Bagel is giving the side eye.

           They spend a half-hour or so walking around the neighborhood, then they get to a park. After they’ve walked and played which Adam actually enjoyed, Y/N excitedly says, “Oh there’s an ice cream truck, we have to get ice cream!”

           “Ick, I don’t like ice cream. It tastes like sweet mucous.” Adam says and tries to hide his disgust. He could suffer through ice cream for her. She doesn’t miss a beat, and isn’t the least bit dismayed by his commentary because she adds, “Good, because I was talking to Bagel anyway.”

           He goes with her and she gets two ice cream cones. She’s struggling to eat hers and feed Bagel his at the same time. Adam takes the one that’s meant for Bagel out of her hand and says, “I’ve got it.”

           Bagel is hesitant at first then he forgets everything but the ice cream. Y/N smiles watching both of them, and Adam chuckles back watching the dog chow down on what’s left of the cone. Once the ice cream is gone, when they sit down, Bagel is jumping up on Adam, wagging his tail and wanting attention.

           “You know I’ve never seen him warm up to anyone like that, especially not a guy.” Y/N says as she works on finishing her cone. Adam says, “The ice cream helped.”

           “Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” She teases and offers him her cone. He thinks for a second before taking a lick, then a bite, and somehow it’s more sensual than it should be. He has to think depressing thoughts to keep himself from getting hard. Y/N surely feels it too because her eyes stay locked on his and the tension between them could be cut with a knife. Just as suddenly as the moment happens it ends as Y/N jerks her head away and re-focuses her sight on something else.

           She changes the subject by asking him if he ever considered getting his own pet. Truthfully he has, then he’s talked himself out of it. “Yeah but I’m not sure if I’m good at long-term responsibility.” He skirts around the issue.

           “You could try getting a succulent.” She says and her eyes light up at the possibility. Meanwhile, Adam is sidetracked by what she said so he asks, “What the fuck is a succulent?”

           She laughs for a long time before she explains, “It’s basically the cactus family. You know they don’t need much attention. You could try it, and if it works you could work up to a goldfish.”

“One time I went to Coney Island with Jessa, I won a goldfish and it died before I got it home. I think I shook the bag too much” He tells her, she chuckles again as they start walking back to whatever the next adventure is. She tells him, “So maybe try a few plants first then.”

           “I had a goldfish when I was a kid, my sister flushed it to free it or whatever.” He says and the memory still stings. Y/N watches his reaction before saying, “I understand her point but that’s rough. Especially with you being a kid. Was she always like that?”

           “Yeah, that’s Caroline. She’s chaotic. One time, when Hannah was trying to mediate between us, she actually had the audacity to suggest that I had repressed sexual feelings or some bullshit for her… that’s what she’s like.” Adam finds himself confessing his life story and all of his family issues in one go with Y/N. She listens to him contently, sometimes chiming in with her own family drama.

“Damn, that’s fucked up. For what’s worth, you don’t seem like that type. That’s something that shouldn’t ever be brought up” Y/N says, trying to comfort him, but Adam finds himself apologizing instead, “Sorry to dump all that shit on you.”

           “It’s what friends are for. And, everyone has family issues. Everyone’s family fucks them up in some way.” She says, and Adam’s glad to have her as a friend. Even if he wants more.

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

           It was a smothery day in New York, the concrete only made the heat intensified. It was like one of Dante’s rings of hell. You were already wearing a cropped tank top, and linen short-shorts with your hair up. Jessa was wearing a bikini top and shorts, while Adam was wearing a sleeveless shirt and athletic shorts. The three of you were trying to go to a pool, or get down by the water, but it was too crowded. The crowd just made it more miserable. When you walk past a display, you’re drawn to the headline. Apparently, the local theater group is putting on Antigone, one of your favorite plays. You’re too entranced by the flyer to notice that Jessa and Adam have come up beside you.

           “You, okay? You just zoned out.” Jessa asks and looks at the flyer. You respond, “Yeah, it’s just one of my favorite plays, I’ll try to make it.”

           “Antigone is a classic.” Adam adds. Then Jessa gestures between you and Adam, then declares, “You two should go together. It’s not really my thing so I’ll sit it out.”

           “Do you really wanna go?” Adam asks you after he eyes Jessa suspiciously. You know you must look just as stunned as he does. You liked spending time with Adam, the two have developed your own friendship, but you somehow felt like you crossing a line. After all, he’s your friend’s boyfriend. The same friend who’s now pushing you to hang out with said boyfriend. It was made worse by the growing crush you had on Adam, in fact, the crush was hardly a crush anymore, and it was more like real attraction. But you weren’t that girl you reminded yourself.

           “Yeah I do, but you don’t have to go with me.” You say, giving him an opportunity to opt out, also giving Jessa a chance to rethink her offer. Neither of them do. Adam runs his hands through his hair then says, “No, I’ll go. It will be fun.” So much for trying to distance yourself, or being worried about over-stepping your place.

******

           Tonight you were going to see Antigone with Adam at one of the theaters near his neighborhood. You were both excited and nervous. You enjoyed spending time with him, and wanted to get know more about him, but you knew the more time you were with, the more you’d fall for him. Also, you didn’t want to seem like the girl who took their friend’s boyfriend. You were wearing a strapless jumpsuit that was airy but didn’t look too casual. Adam knocks at your door, and as soon as you let him in, Bagel runs to him. You still can’t believe how fast he took to Adam, and it makes you think about the saying about dogs judging character.

           “Hey, I’ll be ready in just a minute. Do you want something to drink? Non-alcoholic of course.” You say. Adam sits on the couch, Bagel joins him with his tail happily wagging. Adam then answers with, “Can I have a glass of milk?”

           “Sure.” You were glad that this was a time when you actually had milk in your kitchen. It was honestly the first time a guest wanted a glass, you take the glass to him, and he swallows it loudly. After you’ve put the finishing touches on your look, you tell him you’re ready. He looks you up and down then tells you, “Y/N you look hot…”

           “Thanks,” you blush, you’re totally unprepared for his next comment. But you had been around him enough you should have expected it by now. You knew he had a filthy mouth, and was open about those kind of things.

“You trying to get fucked tonight?” You struggle to find a good comeback at first, you eventually settle on, “No, that’s none of your business anyway. But what if I am?”

           Before he has a chance to comment back and make you more flustered than you already are, you open the door, motioning for him to walk out. You then put Bagel in his crate and join Adam to head on your way to the theater. It was going to be a long, and potentially frustrating night, judging by how bothered you are.

           You and Adam are walking back from the play, chattering about how great the performance was, when you feel something fly in your hair. You try to act cool and get it out, then whatever it is just gets more stuck. Adam at first laughs at your struggle, then his hand is on yours, trying to work whatever it is out of your hair. You notice it’s some kind of bug and you screech.

“Calm down, tiger.” He says and you stand still while he frees whatever creature is trapped in your hair. He brushes your hair behind your ear and your eyes lock onto his. It’s incredibly simple yet intimate and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. You want to kiss him but you know you can’t.

“Did you just call me tiger?” you ask to distract from the sexual tension that’s growing between you. You also never really had any nicknames either so the fact that Adam came up with one for you made you happy.

“Yep, you’re always wear that tiger’s eye thing bracelet.” He says as he backs away to give you space again. His finger reaches for the bracelet, barely tracing the skin of your wrist, and now that’s the only thing you can think about. You force your thoughts back to the bracelet: you’ve had it for a few years and you wear it daily.

“You noticed?” Adam nods his head in response. You then fidget with the bracelet, your hand brushing against his, and tell him, “It’s supposed to bring good fortune, invoke the divine, and offer protection.”

“Has it actually done any of those things?” He asks, and you notice how close his face is to yours. You can feel his breath on your cheek, count every freckle on his face, and you can’t help but notice that his eyes resemble the color of the tiger’s eye.

“I think it has.” The two of you then continue on your way, both avoiding eye contact and putting a few feet between you. It wasn’t as if you had crossed the line, but you were certainly dancing around it.

                                   ********

Adam came back to the apartment after a particularly bad day on set, and it already seems that Jessa is in some kind mood. She’s waiting on the couch, her posture tense, so he breezes by her to get to the kitchen. As he pours himself a glass of milk, Jessa pounces. Her mouth latches on to his neck while her hand reaches for his dick. He’s caught so off-guard that he moves away, and that was clearly the wrong response. He’s always pissing her off anymore anyway. Adam’s starting to think that Jessa’s waiting for him to fuck up in some way that she can use a pretext for an argument.

“What the hell is going on with you? We barely talk, we hardly fuck anymore, and you totally moved away from me!” Jessa shouts at him. He knows he’s been zoned out, but he’s busy with his career and his relationship with Jessa is becoming a burden. Was there any easy way to tell her that the relationship felt like an unnecessary strain on him, or that he’s falling for her friend? He decides not to, and he answers back with, “I’m busy, I’m fucking stressed when I come home. Then as soon as I come home, you wait for me to do something then pounce!”

“It’s like you don’t even notice me anymore!” Jessa screams back at him, and he’s tuning her out. Same old, same old. How he doesn’t listen to her, pay attention to her, or fuck her like he used to. As he continues with his glass of milk, no longer arguing back with her, she disappears into the bedroom. She soon comes back out with a bag and tells him, “I’m leaving for a while, if you fucking care at all!”

*****

           The desk in your apartment is full of paper work, you can hardly see your laptop, and you finally removed the coffee mug and glass of water from the danger zone. Bagel watches you apprehensively from the couch as you get up to stretch a bit. You have to finish this draft then you’re going to an art gallery and out with some friends. You’re not able to go out like you used to since you have to remain sober, but you still need to de-stress. You’re suddenly alerted by the buzz in your apartment.

           The person on the other side is Jessa, asking if she can come in. Once inside, she crashes on your couch like it’s hers and Bagel seems unbothered by her.

           “What’s up?” You rummage on your desk, even more conscious about the fact that it’s a disaster now that someone’s here. As she grabs your Roku remote she tells you, “Adam and I had a fight again. It’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore.”

           “I’m sorry that sucks. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. I’m going to be working then going out.” You get back to working on your draft, while Jessa tells you about her fight with Adam, asking for your thoughts. Talking actually helps you work sometime because silence allows your mind to wander.

After you complete the draft, you hop in the shower, and sit at your vanity doing your hair and makeup. Jessa is perched on your bed, chatting away as you tell her about your friends and she tells you about hers. The one she talks about the most is Hannah, you don’t even know Hannah but you’re exhausted and irritated by her.

“Are you worried about going out tonight? Being around alcohol again?” Jessa asks and you answer honestly.

“I’m nervous about it but as long as I don’t drink anything, I’ll be fine. The long-term goal is to be able to socially drink again.”

“Sobriety sucks. It’s definitely the harder path.” She shares the sentiment, then someone else is buzzing in. None of your friends are supposed to coming here, you’re all supposed to meet up somewhere, and you have no online shopping packages coming today.

It’s Adam, shit, you think. Jessa and Adam, who are fighting in your apartment, this was going to be interesting. Adam strolls in like he owns the place then is stunned when he sees Jessa standing there.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her and she asks him the same thing.

“I’m here visiting my friend, what’s your excuse?” She says combatively, crossing her arms.

“Both of you need to talk about your problems.” You say and hope they’ll try to listen. You really need to get going.

“Okay, well Adam doesn’t seem to care about me at all anymore.” Jessa says and you decide to keep playing mediator.  Calmly you place yourself in the middle of them “Thanks for sharing your feelings, Jessa. Adam, what do you need to talk about?”

“I’m busy and I don’t want to talk all the time, sorry I take my damn job seriously!” He shouts, throwing his arms in the air.

“Okay, well I tried. I need to get going, so don’t trash the place and lock up when you leave.” You say as you quickly head towards the door, you’re already ten minutes. You seriously wondered what Adam was doing with Jessa, and what the two of them were doing holding to their relationship that was pretty clearly a disaster. You could really use a drink right now.

[moonah-rose]

Deal

My brain was buzzing with too much angst that I couldn’t sleep so I had to write this out quick. It’s the equivalent of me screaming into a pillow except the pillow is my ship.

Yes, I stole the whole ‘bring them back via time travel’ bit from Twelve x Clara.

TW: Angst, grief, major character ‘death’, Michael takes words way too literal, sad one-sided Hellstrop, cute but problematic Cheleanor.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Gen asks, very little reluctance in her tone, detached as she is from real emotions.

Even other immortals are specks of dust to her. Maybe having an impartial sociopath in charge of the Universe isn't the best idea. Oh well. It's the best they've got.

Michael nods, resolute; "I'm sure. Just...explain to me how it will work again."

*

It's been almost a month since she left her house. He just wants her to get some air.

"If I agree to go to lunch, will you find a way to bring him back?" Eleanor sniffs, wearing one of Chidi's shirts.

He sighs for the billionth time.

"You know I can't..." he tries to stroke her hair.

She slaps his hand away.

"Then what is the forking point of you?!"

"Eleanor-"

"Big Boss of Heaven and you can't bring back one person?! The one guy I need to be happy here?!"

He takes a step back. He knows she's just lashing out because she's in pain. He can't imagine the pain she's going through. He only suspects it will be what he'll endure when it's her time to walk through.

All he wants to do is help her until then. He wants to see her smile.

This was everything he feared would happen when Chidi left. He isn't enough.

"It's not a place, really. It's just time. Time with the ones you love." Eleanor wipes her nose on his sleeve; "So if the ones I love are gone then this isn't really the Good Place, is it? It's just...Place. Not even Bad or Medium, just...nothing."

It's getting harder to ignore how deep her words cut.

"Is there anything I can do?" He almost begs, voice barely above a whisper.

He would try to hug her again if he didn't expect another slap.

Eleanor turns back towards the sunset at her window.

"Aside from giving me my boyfriend back? Yeah..."

He waits, ready for whatever it is.

"You can leave me the fork alone."

*

Gen rolls her eyes at having to explain it again. She summons a virtual graph with a line to show him.

"I pluck Chidi out of a previous timeline before he had his 'feeling' and bring him here. He's still content to stay around, him and Blondie can get back to getting it on and I get some peace and quiet." She tells him, "But I can't say how long it will be till he has that feeling again. It might hit him the same amount of time or maybe years later."

Michael waves that detail off; "He'll see how much she needs him and he'll stay. He shouldn't have left in the first place. Fork, I regret inventing the damn thing. What matters is Eleanor is happy."

"Oh I ain't doing this for Blondie, I wouldn't do it for anyone but that sweet bootie she's with. The Universe shouldn’t be without him."

And because she owes Michael a favor for saving humanity. That's why she's breaking the rules.

And Michael is breaking a thousand ethical ones.

It's all worth it if it means she'll smile again.

*

She hasn't showered in a long time. She should probably get on that.

Michael will nag her about it the next time he barges in. Maybe she should consider getting a lock. Who does he think he is? She's totally handling this.

Handling losing the man who made her feel complete.

How else is she supposed to handle it other than staying on their balcony, in his shirt, stuffing her face with shrimp while clutching her copy of Scanlon's stupid book?

Maybe she'll go for a walk after her shower. Maybe she'll-

"Hey, babe. You okay?"

Fork. Oh, fork.

Now she's seeing things. Things such as her boyfriend exiting the shower, that buff chest of his on full display above his towel covered waist.

Eleanor freezes. This. This can't be...

"Babe? You're starting to freak me out..." Chidi frowns, looking down as her fingers gently prod his chest; "...You didn't suddenly go blind, right?"

Her eyes water as she feels up his skin, his neck, to touch his cheeks.

"You're here?! You're real?!"

"I...Is this an existential thing? Have you been reading Descartes because, trust me, that's not the best idea before bed-."

Eleanor pulls him in for the most desperate kiss of her life, savoring the taste of his mouth, the feel of his lips on hers, in case it's the last time. Again. Fork, it feels real.

She pulls back a little, looking deep into his eyes.

"Are you gonna leave me again?" She has to know before she lets herself fall too deep for this.

Chidi looks confused as There; "Of course not...I keep expecting you to be the first one ready to leave me. I love you, Eleanor, you know I wanna be with you for as long as we can."

That's all she needs to hear. She's not sure how but...the son of a bench did it. This is her Chidi. It's not a suit or a simulation. If it is then she's grief-stricken enough to fall for it.

Just a bit more time. That's all she wanted. She wraps her arms tight around his neck.

"I love you too, babe. I just had the most forked up dream."

That's all he needs to know. It may as well be that for all she cares.

*

"One last time. You're prepared to pay the price?"

Michael looks at the familiar pin in his palm.

Everything you've ever wanted.

"You need a great surge of energy in order to manipulate time streams in parallel dimensions." He repeats her earlier words; "What better use of fuel than a demon's essence?"

"You sure you wouldn't rather toss me one of your old enemies from the Bad Place?"

He shakes his head.

If they're going to do this...This completely unethical and unnatural scheme...It has to be him. Anything for her. She asked for two things he could do to make her happy. Now she gets both.

"I see now why you marbelised Janet." Gen remarks; "No way she'd have let you go through with it. It won't be as painful as retirement but...It's just as final, pal. So long as that past Chidi is here, I’ll need your goo to be simmering away in that vortex...even after he goes through the Door. Time isn’t to be messed with easy, even for me."

He knows. But if the alternative is Eleanor alone, depressed and hating him then what does he have to lose? The afterlife council is pointless now. Tahani and Vicky are doing more than he could attempt to contribute anymore. His friends are gone...or no longer need him...or want him.

This is the closest he will come to finding his Door.

"You'll restore Janet once it's done? And explain why I had to?"

Gen sighs; "She won't be happy about it. Usually I'd feel confident handling a Janet but...She's something else."

He gives a small, proud smile.

"Yeah. She is."

He looks at the pin again, focusing on what good this will bring back rather than the horrifying thought of what awaits him.

It's worth it for her. Always for her.

"I'm ready."

He wishes he got to see her smile one last time.

*

She's still kissing a damp and topless Chidi when there's a familiar bing sound.

"Janet! Hey." She beams, not as stunned or off put as her blushing soul mate.

"Y'know what, I'm gonna get dressed. So glad we allow our friends free access to our house."

Eleanor gives that ash a pat as he goes off. She turns to Janet, grinning from ear to ear.

"Can you believe it?! It's really him, isn't it?" Eleanor grabs her wrists, seeing Janet's face bowed; "Who knows what Michael did but I need to see him now! I’ve been pretty crabby to him lately, ‘cause it’s been so hard coping with all this, but he’s made it all right now."

Her not robot friend is silent.

Damn. The little voice is back in the corner of her mind. Hello, old frenemy. 

"Okay, I know Chidi said he wanted to go and I agreed to let him go but neither of us knew it would hurt me so much. And this Chidi doesn't wanna go yet so it's all good, right? Whatever Michael did..."

She spots the tear run down Janet's cheek.

Eleanor's senses slowly make a comeback as the high of her wonderful shock evaporates, leaving her with realistic dread.

"...What did Michael do?"

Janet sighs, followed by the smallest sob. She presses something into Eleanor’s palm.

She feels the circular piece of metal. Her heart sinks before she even looks down at the engraved thumb pointing downward.

"He gave you everything you wanted..."

[lokisgame]

A Generous Donation [15]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12] [part 13] [part 14]

"You're not fidgeting," Scully said, slipping her arm under his as they walked up the path to her mothers' house. "Your mom isn't that scary." "You're the first one to say that." "First what?" "Boyfriend." She smiled looking up and seeing his grin. "When was the last time you brought a guy to meet the family?" "Don't ask." "Okay, now I really want to know." "Mulder!" They took the three steps to the front door and he drew her closer into his side, grinning wide. "Tell me!" He teased, but she rang the bell and the a second later the doors stood open.

"Charlie!" Scully smiled, stepping inside and hugging her brother. "You're just in time." "I thought we're early," Mulder smiled as they shook hands. "Here, that's on time, if you're on time, you're late." "What if the time isn't set?" "Then whoever's last, is late." "That's mean." "Don't listen to him," Scully laughed and pushed her coat into her brothers' arms. "Emily!" "Hi, Aunt Dana." The girl smiled, kissing Scully's cheek then came and did the same with Mulder. "Grandma sent me to tell you dinner's ready." "Dana, Fox," Maggie came in, wiping hands on her apron, "good, you're here." "Hi mom," Scully hugged her mother then linked her arm through Mulders' again, "this is Mulder, not Fox." "Of course," Maggie laughed and took the flowers he brought. "Thank you for the invitation," Mulder said and taking a step back to Scully's side, he found her hand, waiting for him, fingers lacing together. "Let's agree that from now on, you're not just invited, you're expected." "Mom," Scully sighed, "we just got here." "Who's hungry?" Charlie said, comically cheerful. "I'm hungry," Emily chimed in. "You're always hungry," he laughed. "Will would understand me," she pouted and turned on her heel, clinking buckles and creaking leather. "He'll be back, before you know it." Scully said and followed, pulling Mulder along. "And you'll fight for the best bits." "Once he's back, he can have them all." "He might want that in writing," Charlie chuckled. "Then he will have to go through my lawyer," Emily laughed and walked through to the dining room. Scully followed and paused, clearly surprised by the amount of food on the table. "You didn't say we're redoing Thanksgiving," she said. "It's just a dinner," Maggie replied taking her usual place. "It looks delicious," Mulder said and pulled out a chair for Scully. "Come, sit down and enjoy."

Scully leaned against his side, playing with her wine glass. That was by far the nicest family dinner he attended, though admittedly, his own family gatherings didn't set the bar very high. He felt full and content enough to doze off on the couch, and that was the best feeling he could imagine right now. Charlie took the end of the couch while Emily sat on the floor, trying to lure Stubb from her grandmas' lap. The feather on a stick got nothing but a twitch of whiskers from the ginger cat, who true to his name, missed a piece of his tail, but like his book counterpart, retained his good humour despite the feline misadventure. After rubbing on all shins and collecting all due pats and scratches, he settled in his mistresses hands. "Tell us about your family, Fox." Maggie said from the armchair by the fireplace. "There's not much to tell," Mulder said, "my father worked for the DOD and died in '95, mom stayed on the Vineyard after they divorced and there she died, in the spring of 2000." "I'm so sorry." "It's okay. After my sister disappeared in '73, we sort of started to live on our own anyway." "That's horrible," Maggie said appalled. "It's ancient history. I go out to the island once a year, to visit the graves and make sure the house still stands." "You have a house on Martha's Vineyard?" Scully asked. "Usually I rent it out, saving a week or two for myself in the summer." "I'll remember that," she said, sipping her wine, "it's always nice to get out of town for a while." "Consider yourself invited," he said, drawing her a little into his side, then looking up, "that goes for all of you." "Can I book two weeks right now?" Emily asked opening her arms for the cat, who finally decided he wanted the toy more than a nap. "I'll pay, obviously. "Don't be silly. I'll email you the number for my realtor and let her know she should expect a call. It's always open for family." "Thank you," she said and grinned, picking up the cat to look into his green eyes, "Uncle Mulder." Maggie and Mulder laughed, but Scully levelled a glare at her brother. Charlie shrugged almost imperceptibly and took a sip of scotch, ignoring her frown. "We should all go together, a family vacation," Emily said, looking up at Scully, "Will would love that." "Small steps, Em," Scully said, "we'll see if he's up for it." "Any ideas for Christmas?" Charlie asked. "Haven't thought about it yet, if his results keep improving, they might loosen the quarantine procedures, but is it worth the risk?" "He will have to come out of there, eventually," Mulder said. "Christmas happens every year," she said a little sad, "Will happens once in a lifetime." "We'll think of something," he sighed. "Is everything okay, honey?" Maggie asked. "Sure, I just had a long day, that's all." "You wanna go home?" Mulder said softly, dropping a kiss on her temple, but she shook her head lightly. "Not yet," she said and handed him her glass, "I'll just rest my eyes for a minute." "Okay." The conversation flowed around her, touching Mulder's childhood on the island, the house and his travels. Some stories she heard and some were new, especially ones from his Oxford years. All the while, Mulder stayed as warm and relaxed as ever, as if he always belonged there. And when he and Charlie realised, they both traveled to New York to see Red Sox play against Yankees in September, she realised, he not only belonged, but became one of them.

They came back to her place, somehow feeling that that's the right bed to end the day in. "You want tea?" She asked, when he helped her out of her coat, ever the gentleman. "Will there be rum in it." "No rum, sorry." Mulder followed through the living room, and caught up to her by the sink, where she filled the kettle from the tap. He put his arms around her, pulling her back to his front. "Then we'll have to think of something else to keep us warm," he said against the side of her neck, "beside tea." "I don't recall you having any trouble with that," she teased, leaning against him. "You're my great inspiration," he chuckled, but let go when she moved to set the kettle on the stove. "I need to shower first," she said, turning and pulling his face down for a kiss. "Can you do this?" "So it's me making the tea?" "I really need to pee." That made him laugh. "Go, I'll take care of this," he said, kissing her again. "Thanks."

She left him to roam free around the kitchen, pulling out mugs and her favourite Earl Grey. He found lemon in the fruit basket and sliced it in half, little thing he knew she liked, and while he waited for the water to boil, a picture on the wall caught his eye. It was a simple landscape scene, seaside sunset in orange and purple, but in the foreground, with their backs to the camera, sat Scully, in a sundress and a straw hat, saying something to Will, sitting beside her on the sand. He couldn't be older than five, and God did she look beautiful. The scene radiated love, a sweet and tender moment caught so perfectly, that he almost felt jealous he wasn't there to witness it. There was a date below the picture, July 1996 with initials, CS. The jealous feeling died the minute he saw the inscription, Charlie Scully was a man of many talents. Mulder followed the trail of family portraits captured on various occasions, from birthday parties to Christmases. The kettle whistled when he was looking at a picnic scene, in which Scully fed watermelon to a three year-old Will. His face was pink as was his stained shirt, but their smiles were so vibrant, they made him laugh softly. "What's so funny?" Scully asked from a distance. Mulder turned and saw her come in, wearing a short, silk nightgown under a long, loose kimono. Both very modest, demure even, but the gown had just a touch of lace trim and it was enough to make his knees weak. "Okay, I feel underdressed," he said, as she came closer, barefoot and stunning. "You like it?" She said, puling the midnight blue robe around herself a little. "You might say that." He swallowed hard, watching her take the mugs from the counter on her way, and handing one to him, while glancing at the wall. "Will and watermelon," Mulder said, gathering his wits and gesturing with the mug to the picture. "Oh, that one, we were in California that summer and he really discovered fruit that year, loved it ever since." She took a small sip and looked up. "You want to see more?" "Show me everything." He watched the silk float around her curves and shins, as she pulled albums from shelves and brought them back to the coffee table. She took the first one and folded herself on the couch against his side, filling his space with her warmth. "Before we begin," she said, keeping her hand on the cover, holding the thick volume shut, "please, remember this was early 90's and my hair was…" "Wonderful, I'm sure of it." He finished, taking the album from her hands. First page held a single picture, Scully in a hospital bed, looking up into the camera, holding a little bundle of blankets in her arms. "He was so tiny," she said wistfully, "but there was always something in his eyes, like he knew more than he showed." "That's all you," Mulder said, pulled into this tender scene, "you can make or break someone with one look." "No I don't." "Yeah, you do," he chuckled, turning the page, "but he only got love from you. Look at this." He ran his fingers around a photo, again showing Scully watching Will in her arms, nursing happily, his tiny palm closed around her thumb. "That's love." "He was two months old." "Who took this one?" "Charlie, that's why he's hardly in any picture," she said, leaning on his side, "he's the family photographer." "Here's one." Mulder laughed seeing Scully's brother holding Will in his outstretched arms, little arms flailing and tiny feet squashing his perfect nose. "Why do I find this hilarious?" "Because it is, Will was a fighter, putting him to bed took hours." Scully laughed sipping tea, "only way was to tire him before the bath, warm water calmed him down and he usually fell asleep nursing. Those were the good nights." "And the bad ones?" "Oh, he wouldn't fall asleep for the world, the little night owl. But he wasn't fussy or scared, he just played in his bed, minding his own business." "We would've gotten along nicely." Mulder said, turning the page to more baby and holiday pictures, pausing by a photo of Will holding on to the edge of a coffee table. "Look at him, he's so proud." "End of an era," Scully smiled looking over his shoulder, "after that, I had to have eyes around my head." "He looks like a runner." "He does, but he always loved water best." She pointed to another picture, where they were sitting in a paddling pool laughing, as Will slapped his tiny arms and legs against the surface, sending water splashing everywhere. "A regular sea monster," Mulder chuckled and turned the page to find a photo of Emily, maybe six years old, and Will with his nose and elbows covered in scabs. "What happened here?" "He tried to run," she sighed, smoothing down a corner that got unglued. "He saw Emily walking through the yard and just ran to her." "Poor kid," Mulder crooned. "You'd think so, but he barely cried, he always was a tough cookie." "That's because he grew up watching you," Mulder said not even trying to hide the admiration, "don't underestimate the strength you're projecting, a self-sufficient, capable and independent figure, who also gave him love, care and support he needed. Positively reinforced example." "Sometimes I forget you teach psychology at Harvard," she smiled, kissing his cheek and leaning her head on his shoulder. They browsed through the album, watching Will grow from a wobbling toddler into a small boy. Pictures of first bike rides, country fairs and family trips to Chicago, Washington, D.C., New York. Mulder paused on a picture of Will in a New York Yankees jersey, a classic baseball card shot. "Wow." "What?" Scully said, startled out of her reverie. "I've got the exact same picture," he said laughing under his breath, "I mean, the uniform is a bit different but still, he could be me. I guess all kids look alike at a certain age." "No, that's not it," she said and her tone made him look up from the album and meet her gaze. "Then what is it?" "He's your son," Scully said. For a second he wanted to tease her back, laugh about it, roll his eyes, but though her tone was warm, he saw she was scared. "What?" She shifted a little, staying close while turning to see him. "Remember when I told you how I had Will, after I had a terrible fight with the guy I was with?""He didn't think you can do it," Mulder said. "My friend is a fertility specialist and she agreed to help me with the procedure." "What procedure?" "In Vitro fertilisation," Scully said, holding his gaze, though her cheeks burned and her hands were starting to shake. "I had Will through IVF," then she added quietly, "using donor sperm." Mulder's blood ran cold and he hid his face in his hands. "Oh sh…" "Did you ever?" She asked gently. "I," his voice came muffled, "I did, once. I never told anyone about it." He felt her side pressed against him, arm around his shoulder. "It was supposed to be anonymous." "I contacted the bank and they gave me a few options to chose from." "The blood test before transplant," he said, looking up, "that's how you found out." "Yes," "And you didn't tell me." "I couldn't bring myself to do it," she said quietly, her eyes growing wet, voice breaking, "if anything went wrong, if the transplant didn't work." Tears spilled and she looked away. "I couldn't give you a son, just to take him away." For the first time that night words failed him, but he puled her into his arms, feeling his shirt grow hot as she held on tight. All the conversations with Will were coming back, the pain he felt at the thought this kid might be gone someday, amusement mixed with respect, when he tried to play the matchmaker, wanting to take care of his mother, the relief he felt, when he heard he was getting better, and suddenly, it all made sense. He had a son, a brilliant kid with bright blue eyes and a huge heart. A kid who facing death, cared more about others than himself, honest and kind young man. Could he have done it better? "We have a son." He whispered and felt tears burn down his face. "Why IVF? Couldn’t you just find a guy?" He asked once he found his voice again and once he spoke, she began to relax. "I was crazy back then," she sniffed, snuggling closer, "the thought I'd have to deal with some guy for the rest of my life, someone who might show up one day and ruin what I build for the baby and myself. In my head, it was the worst thing possible." "You could have at least tried," he chuckled, kissing her neck, "maybe we’d meet sooner." "Or we would never end up together. Maybe now, instead of sitting on this couch, I'd be mourning my son, cursing his father, wherever he was." "You wouldn't be together?" "I wasn't ready to share myself with anyone yet, I wanted a child, but that didn't mean I felt that my life lacked." "Unconditional love." "Everyone told me I was crazy, even Charlie." "Really?" "He said, I love you Danes and I'm with you, but this is crazy." "And your mother?" "She thought so too, she thought I should wait, that Daniel wasn't the right man, that someone would show up, who would love me and our child." Scully looked up and cupped his cheek, meeting his eyes with warmth, "she didn't know, I'd have to wait twenty years for him." Mulder leaned closer and caught her lips, feeling them tear-soft and willing. "I still wish you told me sooner." "I couldn't." She sighed, resting her forehead against his, cool fingers scratching at the base of his scull. "If it failed, if Will died because of the transplant, I couldn’t risk watching you go through that." "And if I wasn't a match? Would you leave me one day, without telling me why?" "God no," she pulled him back into a hug, "I love you too much."