#hook is just unnecessarily tall

[saxandviolins88]

Constructicons this, constructicons that; how about YOU construct a meaningful relationship with ME? HA!

[greghatecrimes]

PPTH Gang + What I Think They’d Order At Starbucks, brought to you in incredible and unnecessarily extra detail by a very tired barista!

House: Black eye (black coffee with two shots of espresso), adds his own cream and sugar very sparingly. Occasionally when he’s alone he orders a Caramel Ribbon Crunch frap (guilty pleasure).

Wilson: Grande hot latte with soy milk. He used to order the “skinny vanilla” (latte with skim milk and sugar free vanilla) but stopped because House made fun of him for ordering the white mom drink.

Cuddy: This woman will drink any kind of coffee she can get her hands on in the morning. Even really, really shitty coffee. She just needs something to get through the day. But if she’s got time for Starbucks, I know she’s absolutely getting a tall Brown Sugar Oat Milk Shaken Espresso with two extra shots of espresso (four total). (That is a lot of espresso for a small drink and she needs all of it). She looks so stressed out that the barista draws a smiley face or a star next to her name on the cup, or writes “have a great day!”

Cameron: The Taylor Swift latte. Grande skim latte with caramel. She’s a basic bitch but she knows what she likes, good for her! In the fall she’s 100% a pumpkin spice latte girl and she probably also has the date written on her calendar for when Peppermint Mochas come back in the winter. When asked her name: “It’s Allie, A-L-L-I-E. Thanks!” automatically spells it out to make the barista’s life 3x easier.

Chase: Cameron orders for him because Chase has no idea what the names for anything are. Also likes a good Peppermint Mocha around Christmas (Cameron got him hooked; he stops drinking them after the divorce). Rest of the year he goes for an Americano, iced or hot, with almond milk. His Starbucks name is Bob, which never fails to make Cameron laugh. (Now I’m imagining putting that order out and yelling “ICED AMERICANO FOR BOB!” into a busy cafe and Chase standing there cluelessly like “who? me?” until Cameron nudges him, and I’m laughing my ass off)

Foreman: Regular, plain ol’ black coffee, any kind of dark roast. He adds his own cream very liberally but isn’t a fan of sugar in his coffee.

Thirteen: I spent way too much time thinking of the perfect thing for her. If she just gets coffee at work, just regular decaf coffee is fine. The bitter taste wakes her up since there’s no caffeine. If she wants a nice coffee, I think she’d like a decaf Doppio (two shots of espresso) with a bit of almond milk, one pump of vanilla, and one pump of hazelnut. Hot or iced, but always decaf. Gently but firmly tells the barista to please make sure it’s decaf because she’s “caffeine intolerant” (not wholly a lie. Helps her avoid the caffeine jitters.) Never uses her real name, either gives a random one or just says “Thirteen, like the number” when asked for a name by the barista. Always leaves a tip when she has cash. Orders her drink iced at any time of year if she’s in the mood for it and gets harassed by House for it.

Kutner: Rotates between different superhero names for his Starbucks name (Tony Stark, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Clint Barton, etc.). Taub wants to melt through the floor every time he gets coffee with Kutner and his order is called out. Kutner thinks it’s hilarious. I really feel like he would be happy with anything you give him, but I think his go to if he’s specifically at Starbucks would be a java chip frap despite the fact that Taub lectures him about it (if he’s gonna treat himself to expensive coffee it may as well taste good!!). Also RIP Kutner you would have loved the Dragon Drink so much (both for the badass name AND the fact that it’s purple)

Taub: Doesn’t go to Starbucks often, probably really only goes with Kutner. Just orders a regular latte or cappuccino. He says he doesn’t see the point of adding in all the flavors and stuff because it’ll just drown out the coffee. Might put some cinnamon on top if there’s a shaker of it on the condiment bar. Would add cinnamon or nutmeg at home if he has the luxury of having a late morning and making his own coffee.

Bonus! Amber: Drinks iced coffee in the middle of a blizzard. Could also down shots of espresso like they’re tequila. The most intense bitch. Would be very visibly tense or stressed when ordering but as soon as her order’s done she’d thank the barista pretty genuinely. Go-to order is a cinnamon dolce latte, no whip but keep the cinnamon dolce powder.

[kate-bishops-waifu]

WLWweek. @rexscanonwife

"The Mess"

A/N: I'm so sorry. This is not worth putting up but I'm doing it out of obligation to myself. Proof that I'm trying I guess. I'm so sorry. Really I just had this little fantasy and this is it.

It was the miserable, hot part of late summer when Ophelia left the house only if she had to. Though there was only one sure way to coax her out unnecessarily, and that was if Kate asked her. Though in the heat she rarely left the shade of her old parasol.

“It’s spiiicy,” Kate huffed, she was wearing purple tinted sunglasses, a tank top and ripped jeans, and still, despite the apparent ‘spicy’ heat, a heavy pair of black boots. One of her nicer pairs that she wore on the rare occasions that she showed up for classes, only mildly distressed with purple laces. She looked, as she usually did, a strange mix of put together and somewhat disheveled.

Ophelia grimaced, and pulled the parasol closer. “Can you make it go away?”

Kate furrowed her brow. “The Sun? Sure.” She shrugged, and offered her arm.

It was a relief when they entered the mall, a cold blast of air greeted them at the door, and Ophelia took down her sun protection. The corridor was crowded, more than they had expected, but they pushed on. Kate took the lead, as she was wont to do, dragging Ophelia into store after store, and dodging the stands in the middle before they could harass them. Kate liked to start at the boba stall, obtaining herself a purple drink, and a cold one at that, was deeply important to her.

They entered a clothing store, Kate was yet to take off her sunglasses, and Ophelia couldn’t help thinking what an odd pair they made as she caught their reflection in a mirror. Two very tall women, one strong and purple, the other looking gaunt and small. For a moment this excited her, they nearly resembled characters from a novel she was fond of. She very nearly pointed it out, but when Kate turned and met her gaze in the mirror she hesitated. Kate was beautiful, handsome in every way, even in her lopsided grin. She kissed the side of Ophelia’s head and went on, leaving only Ophelia’s reflection. She took a deep breath,

“Don’t ruin this,” She whispered to herself. Though she was already feeling lightheaded trying to pry her eyes away.

“Hey look at this!” Kate called.

Ophelia turned away.

They made their way through the store, it wasn’t very big, but Kate had managed to pick out a stack of dresses, which made Ophelia nervous. Though she kept her mouth shut, letting herself get dragged around by the over excited puppy.

“Spooky enough?” Kate held a burgundy slip dress up to Ophelia’s neck, though Kate was not asking her. Kate considered it a moment and nodded, then she lay a hand on Ophelia’s back and started pushing her to the changing rooms. She tossed the stack in Ophelia’s hand and said “change,” giving her a wink, and closing the door.

Ophelia stood awkwardly for a moment, trying to avoid the mirror, and put the dresses up on their hooks one by one, just to procrastinate. Sighing she slowly started to change, deliberately facing the blank wall.

“Hey, do you think I should get this purple flannel, or the red?” Kate asked through the door.

No response.

“Hey, it’s been like forty minutes,”

“Sorry, sorry!” Ophelia opened the door, and Kate slipped in.

“So which one- hey,” Ophelia was in the red slip, scrutinizing her reflection. “You look,”

“Awful.” Ophelia finished. She pulled one of the flannels from Kate’s hand and covered up, blushing as if she had been caught in something embarrassing.

“What?” Kate lifted her sunglasses to her forehead.

“Sorry, can I have the room for a minute, I’m just going to,”

“Wait, stop, what-”

“I just need it for a moment, and I’ll be out. I like the purple one, it suits you.”

“Baby, stop,”

“I’ll give it right back, I just want to change.”

“Hey.” Kate raised her voice.

Ophelia shut up. Pulling the flannel closed.

“What’s going on?” Kate put her hands on Ophelia’s sides.

“Nothing. It’s fine, I just don’t think the dresses quite worked. I’m sorry.”

“I was going to say you look beautiful.” Kate sighed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Ophelia shuffled, looking at her feet. “I didn’t want to ruin anything. This keeps happening and I know it’s not fun, I’m sorry-I’m sorry,” her voice was breaking despite her best efforts.

Kate ran a hand up Ophelia’s side and cupped her cheek.

“I know I've been stuck on this for the last week, I don’t mean to keep bothering you with it. It can’t be fun. You’re probably sick of it, so I didn’t want to bring it up. If you’d just step out and let me get changed, I can try to ignore it and we can go find some stuff for you.”

Kate brushed the hair away from Ophelia’s face, and made her look up, holding her cheeks firm she pressed her lips against Ophelia’s, passionately. For a moment Ophelia melted, and her mind began to calm if only a little, until Kate pulled away.

“Why did you do that?”

Kate scrunched her nose, “I think it’s pretty obvious.”

“No, no you shouldn’t. Why are you even with me? This is ridiculous. LOOK at you, why would you degrade yourself so far as to put up with me? I can’t even hold myself together to go shopping,”

“Shut up.” Kate barked. Ophelia was on the verge of tears, but when she locked eyes with Kate she noticed that Kate was crying.

Ophelia sunk, shrinking into the corner, her knees tucked into her chest. Kate knelt down in front of her. “I’m sorry,” Ophelia muttered. She wanted to reach out and wipe the tears from Kate’s eyes, but she was scared.

Kate took a long breath and reached to cup Ophelia’s face again. Tears slipped out, as if to meet Kate’s calloused, gentle hands. “I don’t deserve you.”

“When did you get such a low opinion of yourself?” Kate wondered, knowing Ophelia could not answer. Kate pulled Ophelia’s head towards her, and laid a gentle kiss on her temple. Cradling her head, she began to rock them side to side. Slowly she trailed kisses down either side of her face, her thumb gently caressing Ophelia's cheeks. Kate didn’t have the words, but when their lips met, Ophelia ceased to shake, her shoulders drooped, and some silent understanding seemed to pass.

[orangemocharaktajino]

How not to care for hedgehogs with Vegas Theerapanyakul

Low stress environment ❌ Lots of sudden loud noises and sleep interruptions due to flickering lights and various torture dungeon activities

Appropriate enclosure ❌ Old bird cage with lots of unusable vertical space, zero hiding spots, and just a sprinkle of substrate

Exercise ❌ No exercise wheel or much room to run around

Medical care ❌ Too remote for care in an emergency

Varied diet ❌ Pellets only

plz p', watch a youtube video on hedgehog care. i don't even have a water dish in here.

Hedgehogs are sensitive to temperature and lighting changes so both need to be regulated. Domesticated hedgehogs can attempt to go into hibernation under the wrong temperature and lighting conditions and can suffer organ failure when they are unable to come out of hibernation on their own. Lighting hooked up to a timer set for 12-14 hours of light per day is recommended as well as monitoring temperature and using heat lamps as needed.

Hedgehogs are also very sensitive to stress. They are afraid of loud noises and prefer to sleep during the day and come out at night. Without a place to hide, it can be very hard for them to let their guard down and feel safe enough to sleep. Living in a stressful environment for extended periods of time can negatively impact their life spans.

The minimum recommended amount of living space for hedgehogs is 4 square feet. Hedgehogs like to climb but their tiny feet and terrible eye sight make them prone to falling accidents. Unnecessarily tall cages are not recommended but barriers can be placed to prevent them from climbing and hurting themself.

Just like hamsters and mice, hedgehogs also benefit from exercise wheels and need mental stimulation. Without any way to exercise, hedgehogs can easily develop heart issues and obesity. They also need mental stimulation like toys, puzzles, or areas they can do some digging / burrowing and foraging for their food.

Domesticated hedgehogs can eat specially formulated hedgehog pellets or even cat food but they also appreciate a variety of foods. Their diet can be supplemented with things they would find in the wild like insects, fruits, vegetables, and eggs.

Their life expectancy is around 3-5 years on average but with good care they have been known to live as long as 10.

Let's be honest poor Khun Spikes probably didn't make it that long though. Shit's rough for those born into the minor family, eh?

[apotodiplodocus]

OK so I've never actually had a tumblr before today so I'm still very new to how it all works, I hope I don't miss something! Just going to be updating whats on my AO3 to here and if anyone has any questions I'll answer those!

SECURITY

Chapter 1

Your desk is a mess of papers, preparing a presentation for a client that you were meeting in 10 minutes, your eyes threatening to spin straight out of their sockets. Your job used to be simple before this project came up, you just had to worry about emails and excel sheets, but now you had to actually talk to clients. The area being a bit shady there were a lot of crummy clients who wanted more than just the project information and now you were tasked with dealing with them. Though, this was your first big project and you had tirelessly been working to make it perfect hoping it could be enough to get the promotion management has been dangling over your head the past two months. You needed that money to send back to your family, it would be life-changing for them if you could just send them a little more a month.

Wrapped up in thoughts of your family you didn’t notice your manager approaching you nervously, nor the second set of footsteps behind her. She cleared her throat for your attention which you gave, a frazzled look upon your face.

“Good afternoon yn. Are you ready for your presentation?” She said keeping her focus on you like she was worried about something; you took it as a fear that the project would fall through.

“Yes, I’ve been preparing for weeks so don’t worry if I can just get to the end of my presentation, I’m sure Mr Komaji will be hooked!” You smiled reassuringly at her and she cleared her throat again, more out of anxiety than the need for attention.

“Yes, well… I feel it’s only fair I make you aware of Mr Komaji’s… Track record. You see he can get rather, how do I put it? Handsy? Please just keep your distance and stay focused on the presentation, try not to get side-tracked with a conversation outside of what he needs to know for work. Plus you won’t be in there alone we’re sending a security officer in with you, just to be safe. This is-“ She quickly pauses and takes a breath as if scared to even say his name as you finally notice the man behind her. “Gyutaro Shabana.” She finishes shuddering like the sound of his name was disgusting to her senses. You felt as if she was unnecessarily rude.

Your eyes flickered to him as he stepped out from behind her, your position sat down making him seem so tall, you can’t believe you didn’t notice him before. You notice he had dyed his hair green and let it grow out revealing his black roots, was dyed hair even allowed here? You couldn’t remember, but you couldn’t help but think his hair and birthmarks on his face just made him so incredibly unique. Did you like unique before? Who knows, but you know it looks good on him.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Shabana, I’m looking forward to working with you! I’ll be in your hands today.” You flashed a bright smile. Your reaction made him look weirded out and he bristled at what you called him.

“Gyutaro, I don’t like being called Shabana.” He says looking away from you, hands in his uniform pockets. It seems like he took liberties with his uniform as well as his hair, the uniform you were accustomed to being much neater. He had disregarded the tie and fleece, popped open the top couple of buttons of his shirt and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, allowing you a view of the way the muscles of his arms rippled when he moved ever so slightly. You hadn’t thought his arms could be that ripped for such a skinny guy. Clearing your throat after your blatant staring, a light blush crept up your neck and down from your ears.

“OK, Gyutaro, I can do that. Will you be OK to go in… Crap! Now?” You exclaimed after checking your watch. You quickly gathered your materials and locked your computer, barely hearing his acknowledgement in the sound of an amused hum at your panic. You scurried to the meeting room, you had to pass through ten doors to get to the meeting room and for all except the very last door he had walked through, not holding the door open or waiting for you as you fumbled with your folders trying to keep pace with him. It irked you a little bit, but it wasn’t really his job to hold the doors open.

When you did reach the meeting room door, Gyutaro waited for you to catch up before walking in first, holding the door open for you. You thanked him with a smile, the much taller man looking away with what you hoped was a faint blush on his ears. Turning your attention to the balding man sitting at the conference table. He stands up and goes to shake your hand but Gyutaro steps in, putting a hand between you and Mr Komaji.

“Hands off.” He states as if a handshake was not normal business practice, but you couldn’t help but be thankful since you had caught him staring at your legs.

“I feel a bit offended you thought you would need a guard to sit in with us.” He declares, and you realise this is going to be a bigger pain than you thought. The man backed off and sat back down, patting the seat next to him. Gyutaro bristles and you realise just how tall he actually is while staring at his back, it seems like he was slouching on the way over but had straightened up before going into the room. Shaking your head you refocused on the man but sat on the other side of the table from him, away from the door.

“Sorry Mr Komaji, it’s policy.” It was in fact not policy, but you needed this project, so you couldn’t let him get offended.

Gyutaro moves to stand behind your seat, crossing his arms. While you are blissfully unaware of Gyutaro’s expression, Komaji can barely look in your direction, sheer intimidation making him hesitant.

Eventually, your presentation starts and Komaji slowly gets used to Gyutaro’s presence, he becomes bold once more, blatantly staring at any exposed flesh and your chest. You feel so naked under his gaze, but Gyutaro makes you feel ten times safer. Gyutaro has positioned himself barely a foot away from your chair, he’s so close you can hear his breathing go from calm to aggravated the bolder Komaji becomes. The more you thought about the safety that oozed from the man behind you, feeling at home in his ‘protection bubble’ the less you focused on the presentation. You stumble over yourself and Komaji decides it’s the perfect time to push boundaries, thinking you stumbled because you were too distracted by him.

“There, there my dear-“ As he reached across the table to grasp the back of your hand, his own is snatched away.

“Hands to yourself. I won’t say it again.” The man flinches at Gyutaro’s touch and after a moment of surprise, wrenches his hand from your guard’s grip. Not-so-subtly Komaji uses hand sanitiser as if he could catch something from Gyutaro. You tense and clench your fist in anger, how rude could this man be? You want to rip him a new one for disrespecting Gyutaro when he was just doing his job, but a snicker from Gyutaro stops you. You visibly relax and take a calming breath in. Hold, and then breathe out. Putting on your best customer service smile you continue your presentation.

After 5 minutes as you’re about to finish, the radio on Gyutaro’s belt goes off, beeping and screeching. You turn to look, and he meets your eye, holding it up for you to see.

“I’ll be right back. I’ll be right outside the door.” He declares pointedly staring at Komaji, who doesn’t even acknowledge him. He leaves an eye trained on the man all the way until the door closes behind him. It’s muffled but you can hear him talking to someone. You turn back to Komaji to continue but notice he’s now stood up, looking down at you in such a predatory way you freeze, feeling more prey than human. He was not as deterred by Gyutaro as you had hoped, as he approaches the door he begins to speak.

“Now that insect is gone, we can really get to business.” He attempts to purr out, and you hear the awful sound of the door lock clicking quietly. As he now approaches you, he starts complimenting your figure, saying awful, vile things. Your heart pounds and hot bile rises in your throat, contradicting the cold shiver that ripples and waves down your spine.

He stops not too far from you and as you are frozen, he takes a moment to drink you in, apparently not worried about Gyutaro on the other side of the door. You want to call out to him, but the fear has you turned to stone.

“Since I’ve locked the door, he’ll have to go to the security office on the other side of the building to get the keys. That’ll give us at least 5 minutes to conclude our business.” He growls on the approach again. The flinch from the impending sense of doom renders you able to move at last and your paralysed vocal cords return as you scream for Gyutaro. The volume makes the man pause as he watches the door.

“Shut up, you little bitch, you need my money, don’t you? Now be a good little whore and give yourself to me.” He snarls. It was only a few seconds, but your heart threatens to screech to a stop until you hear heavy footsteps pound towards the door. Gyutaro’s body slams against the door, it rattling the frame. The vibrations again draw the man’s attention away from you and you take the momentary distraction to quickly stand up and retreat to the back of the room, Komaji blocking your way to the door. The door handle rattles violently and there are a few good slams which you assume is Gyutaro’s shoulder.

Komaji looks slightly perturbed at the strength Gyutaro clearing has to be shaking even the doorway, but stalks towards you nonetheless confident he still has time. As he starts closing in, however, there is an enormous bang, and the sound of splintering wood greets your ears. Looking at the door you don’t even get the chance to see Gyutaro at the door before he’s in front of you, taking Komaji to the ground. Trying to take in the situation, you first focus on what the sound was and see the door almost in shreds, having been kicked in, an amazing show of strength. You look to the men on the ground and see Gyutaro holding the man’s arms up to his shoulder blades, one knee to the side of Komaji and the other pressing down just below Komaji’s arms.

“I’m sure a guy like you is so used to things going your way, aren’t you? How great for you man. Not that a could be envious of a creepy parasite like you. You clearly have enough money to think her silence can be bought, don’t you? Goood for you man. How unlucky for you that I’m here though.” Gyutaro snarls accentuating his point by pushing Komaji’s arms further up his back and you hear a quiet popping sound right before Komaji yells in pain.

It's weird for you to admit but it does something to you, seeing Gyutaro’s prowess despite looking unassuming. Your eyes are fixed on the flex of his biceps against the straining fabric of his shirt.

“Get off me you wretch! I swear I’ll report you for misconduct and assault! Both of you! And you-!” His eyes fix on you, and the pent-up stress makes your legs weak, sliding down the wall behind you “The project is off! I’ll make sure no one gives you anything again! That’ll keep you quiet won’t it bitch? Being unable to send money to your precious family! You stupid-!” Gyutaro is pushing upwards again, Komaji thrashing below him.

“Eyes on me, cretin. Don’t look at her, don’t speak to her, don’t think about her. I’m the one you should be worried about right now.” Gyutaro growls. If you didn’t feel so ridiculous that would have been hot, you may have even had to fan yourself. You snap out of your stupor and get up on shaky legs and put a hand on Gyutaro’s shoulder. His head whirls around but his expression softens when he sees your fear, it somewhat reminding him of Ume.

“Enough now please, I don’t want you to get fired.” You say gently.

Gyutaro thinks for a second, pondering your words and you feel like he’s looking through you, then he stands to his full height stepping back from Komaji, watching him squirm on the ground.

Gyutaro starts giggling to himself quietly, strangely endearing as it is, you are awfully confused.

“Gyutaro?”

“Ya say you’ll report us for misconduct, but your stupid pig brain clearly can’t comprehend the idea of CCTV. I may have t’pay for the door but then m’good. You really are disgraceful you know that? I’m gonna make sure you get shit for being a predator.” He cackles towards the end, and you understand his confidence, yes there’ll be trouble because of this but he is the one who was clearly planning to assault you. Again the man sees something you don’t. The way Gyutaro stares at Komaji after his laughing fit ends is truly fear-inspiring. He looks as if he’s measuring Komaji for a coffin and the balding man knows if he didn’t have a job to look out for, he would be beaten to within an inch of his life- if not worse.

There’s a moment of quiet staring at each other where you can sense the tension between them, Komaji looks terrified, and suddenly Gyutaro whips down and picks Komaji up by the scruff of his neck and marches him out of the building. You collapse into a chair when the disgusting man is gone and you don’t think you need to cry, you don’t want to. You’re just glad Gyutaro was there to save you and thinking of it again you remember the door and stand up to inspect it. There is a huge crater right next to the lock and there are pieces of wood all over the floor, you don’t understand how that is even possible, a solid wood door, these weren’t cheap.

You crouch down to start picking up bits of wood feeling bad for the cleaners, taking them into your hand, it’s nice to have an unnecessary task to take your mind off what could have just happened.

Gyutaro is coming back fiddling with his radio on his belt and re-attaching it when he spots you crouched on the floor, he is taken aback by the curve of your legs in your skirt but chides himself for faltering in his stride. You just had something awful happen he definitely isn’t gonna flirt with you after that, even if he did think he was ‘worthy’. He strolls over hands back in his pockets and crouches down with you just watching you.

“What’re ya doing?” He says looking at you like you are mad.

“… I’m picking up pieces of the door, so I don’t think about what just happened and start crying.” Gyutaro is surprised by your honesty and thinks for a second, he can already see the type of person you are.

“Don’t. People get paid to do this.” He grabs your wrist lightly and empties out what you have in your hand into his. He doesn’t look at you as he stands to throw the splinters away. He returns to you and waits for you to stand up, when you don’t he huffs and holds out his hand. You take it as softly as possible letting him help you stand up.

“Thank you so much. I… I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there. Truly thank you so much.” You stare at the floor because you can’t bear to look up at him with the dark blush staining your face, he really saved you.

“Whatever, my shithead co-worker locked himself out. Shouldn’t’ve gone to let him back in. Fuck – I wanna beat that scumbag.” He clenches his fists, the tension coming back to him.

“I’ll pay for the door; you broke it getting to me from a situation I could have stopped. I should have been firmer.” You say feeling at fault.

“Are you stupid?” He questions looking down his nose at you a small smirk on his face.

“What?” Your head shoots up in disbelief.

“I said, are you stupid? He woulda tried something whether you were firmer than a rock. Chicken shits like that don’t care how scary a woman is, to them they are still just women. And don’t jus’go assuming I need you to pay for the door, I’ve never done a half-assed job and m’not gonna start now.” He huffed.

“Oh… I see. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make it seem like I thought you couldn’t afford it. Are you sure it’s OK? I really don’t mind. Or if you won’t let me pay for the door, I insist you let me take you out for food.” You demand, stubbornly looking up at him through your lashes, blush painted over your cheeks. Gyutaro almost flinches at the sudden request and at seeing the blush on your face. Is it really possible an attractive woman would want to take him out? He mulls over his options, weighing the pros and cons.

“… OK fine, you can take me out for food tonight. I’ll meet you at the main doors after work.”

“Oh! OK, thank you Gyutaro! I finish at 5.” You call after him.

“I know.”

[liarian]

They are all idiots

Tsuchiya had not even been there five minutes when Serizawa sat down next to her and greeted her with an almost imperceptible nod of his head. With almost telegraphed movements, he pulled his notebook and pencil case out of the black backpack that always accompanied him everywhere and placed them perfectly aligned on the wood.

His gaze seemed lost in space as he absentmindedly bit his thumbnail.

"Did you two have a fight already or what?" Tsuchiya nudged him trying to snap him out of his daze.

Not so long ago, Tsuchiya wouldn't even have noticed that there was something wrong with Serizawa. It wasn't like he was the easiest guy to understand and more than once his way of staring at people had gotten on her nerves.

"No" Serizawa replied, barely a mumble. "Yesterday... we did things and... Sometimes with Reigen it's hard to think."

"I can't believe it! How far did you guys got?" Tsuchiya rushed over leaning against the wood and stared at him. "So it's official now?"

It was always fun to get Serizawa to blush. He sometimes came off as very childish for certain matters. It was hard to deny that meeting Reigen made her somewhat curious. The way Serizawa spoke of him, he had to be quite a character.

"Tsuchiya, how was your first time?"

The question caught her off guard. Serizawa had never seemed too interested in joining in on conversations whenever someone brought up the subject. Sometimes he even seemed uncomfortable. Not that it really mattered anyway when Tsuchiya had no interest in the details.

"We still have time to skip class." Tsuchiya looked at the time on her cell phone. There were five minutes left until class started. Without giving him a chance to argue, Tsuchiya got up gathering her things and putting them in her bag.

"'Skip'? B-but we have class" Serizawa gave her a shocked look.

"Nothing's going to happen for one day." Tsuchiya grunted, grabbing Serizawa's things as well. "Come on, let's go."

She almost needed to pull him to get him out of class at the same moment the teacher walked through the door. Serizawa shrank back, trying to be inconspicuous. As if with his nearly six feet tall he was going to pull it off.

----

After two years of living on campus almost permanently, Tsuchiya had ceased to be surprised to find the cafeteria in Main Square packed to the brim with people on a Monday just after nine-thirty.

"Macha or coffee? Which would you rather have?" Tsuchiya dropped her backpack with her laptop on one of the chairs at a corner table and rummaged through her purse.

Serizawa opened his mouth to protest but Tsuchiya was quicker.

"You'll invite another day." She pointed a finger at him before ditching him to stand in line.

A matcha for Serizawa and a black coffee for her. Standing, waiting her turn, Tsuchiya watched Serizawa out of the corner of her eye. Her stomach cringed seeing him so taciturn again. For a moment, it was like he was back to being the guy who always sat in the front row, not talking to anyone, taking notes as if he were a robot.

"Who told him to hook up with a high school kid." Tsuchiya muttered when it was finally her turn.

-----

"Okay, now tell me why that question." Tsuchiya didn't bother to beat around the bush unnecessarily.

After months of Serizawa being the only classmate she still trusted to pass group work without having to do it all by herself, she had learned that with him that was a waste of time. Serizawa was nervous, she only had to watch the way he fiddled with his fingers. Tsuchiya let him organize his thoughts before forcing him to speak.

"N-not that we did much. Make out and some jerking off b-but yesterday" Serizawa nibbled on the cuticles of his thumb, already somewhat sore. "I don't know, something's not right. And I don't know if it's me or not. In high school I always felt like a freak and it's just with Reigen but"

"You're not forcing yourself to keep up with him, are you? You're thinking stupid shit, right? Just because you're older than him doesn't mean you have to force yourself to do something you don't want to. And if he's hornier than a bitch in heat, he's got his right hand for that."

"I don't have to force myself to do anything. I don't." Serizawa blushed, Oh, who knew what naughty thing he was imagining already. "But yesterday, I don't know. Everything seemed normal but I've been thinking about it all night and when he's nervous he can't shut up. He just talks and talks and talks but yesterday he didn't and I don't know."

"What's bothering you?" Tsuchiya jabbed her finger into his forehead as the silence stretched on for a second too long. "If he's decided to go out with you, there must be a reason."

"I'm not sure we're dating. I guess so but I don't" Serizawa frowned. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

"Really? But do you guys do anything else besides eat each other's faces off?" Tsuchiya shook her head in exasperation. With so many morons in the world, it was amazing that the human race managed to survive. "If you're not sure, just ask. He's supposed to be your best friend. Keeping things in limbo is only going to end up getting you into trouble. I know it seems like I'm asking for the impossible, but if you ever get your blood pumping to your brain, you know. Talk to him."

Tsuchiya sighed in despair. She still didn't quite understand why she considered that big dumb bear her friend. Men... All fucking idiots. There wasn't a day that went by that she wasn't just a little bit happier to be a lesbian.

[dreaminlittlenightmares]

Writing Prompt! The Thin Man, Lady, and a third character of your choosing have to pull off a heist at a casino to steal a dangerous magical artifact.

I still can’t believe you guys enjoy reading these shorts. Somehow, this one ended up being 1700 words >A>;

Title: Three Supernatural Beings Walk Into a Casino... Word Count: 1703 Characters: the Lady, the Thin Man, the North Wind CW: Mild Language Use

"Tell me again why we're doing this," the Thin Man sighed tiredly, standing arm-in-arm with the Lady outside a lively casino.

"Because I want the Obelisk Mirror, and it's being showcased here," the Lady said, "And you're the person to go if someone needs an alibi."

"Dearest, you literally hate mirrors," the Thin Man replied, "Why are we risking our lives trying to get this thing?"

"Why indeed~?"

The Thin Man and the Lady jumped and turned around. The North Wind was hovering behind them, grinning with their multiple, crisscrossing smiles. "Hello, peasants. What brings you to this part of the world?"

"U-Uh, date!" the Thin Man lied quickly.

"Date!" the Lady followed.

"Date night! It's date night for us. Totally spend quality time at a casino...because we can."

"Yup!"

The North Wind's smiles grew wider. "You're both terrible liars." They darted behind the pair and hooked their long, black arms around both necks. "I hear everything. So, tell me. What brings you two here?"

"If you hear every thing, North, then you already know." The Lady peeled the wind entity's arms away from her. "I want the Obelisk Mirror and it's being held here. I'm going to take it."

The North Wind's smiles died instantly. "The Obelisk Mirror? THE Obelisk Mirror?"

"Yes," the Lady answered stubbornly, "I want it."

"Why!?" North Wind asked with fear in their voice, "That object is cursed. Not even the Man from the Mirror deals with that thing. I, the King from the Skies, Master of Malice and Despair, wouldn't dare bother with that thing."

"And that's the exact reason why I want it," the Lady smiled, "If you and Mirror Man can't handle it, I must have it!"

"Dumb witch..."

"Love," the Thin Man spoke up, "If the two guys that kick our asses are saying that this mirror is super bad, maybe we should just leave it alone." He added a shy, pleading smile at the end, but it didn't win him any sympathy.

"Wuss." The Lady turned away and crossed her arms.

"Listen to your unnecessarily tall boy-mate," the North Wind pleaded, "That thing should have been destroyed ages ago. It's beyond evil."

"And you're a coward." The Lady turned to face the two of them. "How about a bet, North? If I die trying to get this mirror, you get the Maw. And Thin-" She looked at the Thin Man. "If I die, it's your fault."

"What!? How would this my fault?" The Thin Man frowned.

"This girl is a witch," the North Wind hissed, "See how she manipulates us into doing her bidding? She's going to get you killed, or worse."

The Thin Man hung his head. "Yeah, but this is what I signed up for." He shook his head "Fine. I'll help, I guess. Prefer not to live without you anyways."

The Lady smiled, then turned to the wind entity. "You're both stupid," the North Wind huffed, "but fine. For the Maw's power. What's the plan?"

"Thin Man distracts, you help him distract, and I sneak away and steal the mirror." The Lady's plan was very simple; and with the three of them, easy to achieve. The Thin Man and the North Wind looked at each other and shrugged, conceding rather than asking for specifics. The trio walked into the casino to start the heist.

"What kind of distraction do you want?" the Thin Man asked in hushed tone. But, before he could get an idea, someone from the crowd pointed at him and shouted his name. The Thin Man froze on the spot from it.

"Good luck!" the Lady whispered, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "North, try not to kill anyone." And with that, she vanished from sight.

"How about a wager, Broadcaster?" North Wind gently caressed the Thin Man's shoulders from behind. "Let's see which one of us can cause a bigger distraction."

"Wut?" Before the Thin Man could react, the wind entity floated forward, smiling sinisterly.

"Scream..."

Meanwhile, the Lady moved swiftly, weaving in-between the crowds like water in a stream. She reached the mirror in a matter of seconds, since it was on display for everyone to see. It was small enough to fit in her hand, antique and rectangular. The only thing that kept it away from behind accidentally knock off its pedestal was some flimsy red rope around the perimeter. The mirror's security was bold, but the Lady gave it its credit. All she had to do was wait for the opportunity to steal it.

And not a moment too soon. The screaming started. The Lady glanced over her shoulder at the choir of cries at came from the entrance. It was loud enough to hear from her post and it grew louder, like everyone in the casino was affected by the terror. The security moved away from the mirror and towards the front. Now was her chance.

The Lady moved her hands around, back and forth and back and forth, to conjure up a ball of black magic. When it was formed, she pulled her hands apart to stretch the ball out. Next, she stuck her hands in ball. Underneath the mirror's shadow, the Lady's hands took shape. The shadow hands reached for the mirror and pulled it down into the shadows. The Lady took out her hands and quickly tucked them into her sleeves. Her trick was a complicated way of simply taking the prized mirror, but at least she didn't set off any alarms.

The Lady hurried off back to the front of the casino. It was windy and littered with bodies. The North Wind was hanging high in the air laughing menacingly. "Such lovely music! Scream for me!!"

The Lady found the Thin Man taking cover by a Craps table. "Thin!" She hushed over to her and tugged at his shoulder.

The Thin Man looked at her with widen eyes. "Never leave me alone with this thing ever again!" he yelled over the howling wind.

"Understood. Let's go!" She helped him to his feet, then turned to the wind monster. "North! We're going!"

The North Wind heard the call and stopped their wind storm. They flew out the mangled doors, and both the Lady and the Thin Man soon followed. When they were a good distance away from the ruined casino, they stopped to rest.

"I said make a distraction," the Lady berated, "Not destroy everything!"

North Wind shrugged their wide, feathery shoulders. The Thin Man rolled his eyes. "Well, that was the idea. But murder fan here went overboard with it."

"You two don't know art should it hit you in the face." The North Wind leaned in closer to the Lady. "Now, did you get that cursed object?" The Lady pulled out the Obelisk Mirror from her sleeves. "Good. Destroy it."

"Okay, look," the Thin Man said, "I'm all for destroying apparently dangerous magical things, but what exactly does this thing do?"

The North Wind glanced at the Thin Man, then to the Lady. "You don't know? I refuse to believe that you didn't research this artifact before stealing it."

"All I know is that Mirror Man has no power in it," the Lady said, "I must know why."

The North Wind slapped their hand into the face. "Humans...Give me the damned thing. I'll show you." The Lady was reluctant to part with her prize. "You want to know why the Mirror King and I avoid this thing, give it to me." The Lady looked for reassurance from her tall counterpart. When the Thin Man gave her a quick nod, she handed it over.

North Wind placed it on the ground and whispered a confused incantation to the Obelisk Mirror. They flew back swiftly and covered their ears. A young girl's voice spoke from the mirror, though her answer didn't make sense. It was high pitched and squeaky. Both the Lady and the Thin Man flinched in pain from the noise, collapsing to their knees in agony. The wind entity reveled in their pain, but they didn't want the piercing girl's voice to continue. They picked up the nearest trash can lid and placed it over the Obelisk Mirror. Silence soon came.

"Eons ago," the North Wind started, "A wizard wanted answers from the Mirror Realm. The spell worked, but it was done wrong. Whoever asks a question into the mirror will get the answer, if you can hear it. The girl, I'm assuming, speaks in such a painful tone, you'll probably go mad from listening to it. Since this heinous thing was corrupted by magic, the Mirror Lord has no idea where the girl is in his realm. Why do you think we all hate magic, you wretched girl?"

The Thin Man tenderly picked at his ears. "Okay, so how do we destroy it?"

"We're not destroying it!" the Lady objected, "I-"

"No." The Thin Man cut her off.

"But-"

"No." The Thin Man pointed a finger at her. "Dearest, I know you power hungry and/or crave knowledge, but no. I know crazy and I don't need you to go crazy." He gave her a sympathetic look. "Please.."

The Lady glared at him, then at the North Wind. "You both suck."

"A man with reason," the North Wind mused. They picked up the trash lid and cut the air with edge of their hand. The mirror was sliced in two from the wind. "Done, which honestly should have been done ages ago." The North Wind sneered at the Lady. "Magic was banished from this world for a good reason. We actually tolerate you because you use it responsible. Don't be so unwise next time." And with that threat, the wind monster floated up, up, and away.

The Lady knelt down and picked up one of the mirror halves. "I could have used this."

"Dearest, if you want to play with mirrors, I'll take you to a Fun House." The Thin Man flashed her a cocky smile, while she growled at him.

"Oh, fuck you." The Lady stood up and tossed the mirror half away. "Let's go. We're done here." She stormed off is annoyed disappointment. The Thin Man followed her quietly.

"I'm just saying..."

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 20 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | 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 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader lies to Spencer.

A/N: Please read the content warnings for this one if you have basically any triggers, lol. This is a very heavy chapter - it is the penultimate climax of the story. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst (NSFW) Content Warning: 🚨 IMPORTANT – READ BEFORE READING🚨 This episode covers a number of very dark topics, and should be approached at a time when you have support systems available. Potential triggering topics include: sexual assault, violations of consent, suicide, self-harm, pregnancy/termination, infertility, domestic dispute, fighting, and underage drinking, sex w/ blanket consent Word Count: 11K

MASTERLIST

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Rossi’s house was every bit as extravagant as I had expected. I had come in honestly hoping to be slightly disappointed so I could mock him for it, but, as always, he had to force his appearance to be as unnecessarily elegant as possible.

That being said, I was a little surprised to find that most everyone gathered in one spot - the kitchen. It was only to be expected, considering it was usually the happiest room in the home. That certainly remained true for Rossi. But they were also all gathered there because that was where the wine was – wine that I was not allowed to drink.

Rossi didn’t have a problem with it… Spencer did. Because of course he did. And while I politely declined when Rossi offered me some, anyway, I found another offer a little more tempting. Which explains why I found myself clutching Derek’s flask and draining half the contents quickly enough to remind him that I was, in fact, in college.

And if anyone were to ask, I would simply tell them that we were hanging out in the hall outside the bathroom to have a very deep and secret heart-to-heart about our shared love for a certain mop headed genius. It would have been the perfect cover to use on pretty much everyone except…

“Ahem.”

The sound of Spencer’s throat clearing behind me was enough to cause me to choke, and I quickly tossed the closed flask back to an already giggling Derek as I shouted, “Fuck!” I didn’t even turn around when his hand snaked around my hip. Instead, I just groaned.

“The narc’s here,” I whispered to Derek, but he knew better than to answer.

“The narc?” Spencer balked, much to his friend’s delight.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Derek offered in consolation, taking a swig out of the flask and earning a very defensive glare from my boyfriend. In fact, Spencer seemed downright pissed, which wasn’t what I had been expecting when I agreed.

Oops. What’s the male equivalent of a cat fight?

“Morgan, didn’t you lecture me about her drinking underage a few months ago?” he snapped, grabbing the flask from a more than willing Derek. Spencer sniffed the contents and immediately recoiled, tossing it back again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, shooting a glance down to see me sort of just making heart eyes at the sight of my boyfriend being a stupid level of jealous that I'd been caught in the hallway with another boy.

“How does that make it better? That makes it patently worse,” he argued. Derek might have responded to it, too, if I hadn’t latched myself onto Spencer’s side.

“You’re so cute when you get all stupid and possessive,” I drawled, burying my face in his shoulder in what I think was supposed to be a playful kiss, but actually just ended up being a muffled laugh.

“That,” Derek chuckled, pointing to me teetering back and forth on my heels at Spencer’s side, “That is my cue to leave.” With one final wink, he whispered, “Don’t be too hard on him, Princess.”

Spencer’s angry sigh and entirely stiff posture should have served as my warning, but it was just funny to me at the time.

“They all think I’m the boss of us,” I giggled. “Me! The boss!”

“You’re drunk.” His tone dropped the second Derek was out of earshot, and on intimidation alone, he managed to back me against the wall.

“So is everyone but you. They won’t even notice,” I mumbled, although the more the hallway started to spin, the less I believed that. I'd never been very good at math or shots, and this was a pretty horrible miscalculation of just how much of my tolerance I’d lost.

“You really couldn’t wait a few more months? Or at least until we got home?”

He was chastising me, and I just wasn’t there to hear it. I probably could have figured it out if I’d tried, but it all sounded like sexy nonsense at the time. Walking my fingers down his chest, I paused at his belly before hooking them in his pants and pulling his hips against mine.

“I’m allowed to drink if my daddy says so,” I purred.

Spencer didn’t find my taunt as charming as I’d hoped, and before I knew it his hand was roughly pressed over my jaw. He tilted my head back to look him in the eyes, and I wondered if he could smell the whiskey on my breath.

“Well, I didn’t,” he growled.

I never said I was a perfect person, or even a smart one. And when I was drinking and Spencer whipped out his Daddy voice, I don’t know what he really expected me to do. But apparently, trying to grab his dick through his pants was the wrong move. He snatched my hand away quickly, slamming it against the wall before he continued his little impromptu lecture.

“I’m not rewarding you for this. We’re going home.”

“That’s not a very scary threat,” I deadpanned, throwing my body weight back against the wall.

That lasted about four seconds before he pulled me back to my feet and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Just wait, little girl. Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on you.”

I was going to make a snarky joke, to remind him that his hands were surely and firmly already on me, but I never got the chance. We were both too distracted by the very loud and very high pitched squeal of Penelope as she rounded the corner.

“Ah! I saw nothing!” she shouted, covering her face with her hands and refusing to remove them.

“Yeah, because we aren’t doing anything,” I laughed. But then, being the slightly cruel brat that I was, I stuck my tongue out at Spencer before tacking on a completely unnecessary, “anymore.”

“We weren’t doing anything before either!” he squeaked back. He wasn’t using his Daddy voice anymore. So swiftly, so easily, he’d been knocked from his higher footing.

Penelope took the words to heart, but only enough to slowly lower her fingers and peek between them. With a shaky voice and an awkward laugh, she started to rant. “Oh. It’s fine. I’m cool. We’re all cool. We don’t have to talk about that thing from the first time I met you ever again. Because we said we’d never talk about it again, do you remember that?”

“I do remember that,” I answered with a very sarcastic tone and a nod.

“And I just brought it up again, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “Yes, you did.”

“I’m so sorry. Spencer, Hotch is looking for you,” she rushed, turning to the beet-red boy at my side. “Okay, that’s it. Take your time, because I’m cool and not at all mortified.” She was basically already gone before she'd even finished talking, taking off in the direction she'd come from while downing the drink in her hand.

With a loose, clumsy wave I shouted back, “Bye, Penelope.”

“Mortified is a good word. An accurate word,” Spencer huffed as he wiped a hand over his face. His bashfulness, while cute, was not as exciting as the pre-Penelope behavior.  

Running my hands underneath his blazer and up his back, I pressed my chest against his. “Gosh, Dr. Reid. You need to be more appropriate in such a public setting.”

The words, while meant to get him riled up, did more to frustrate me. My drunken mind was more than happy to revert to the metro, and before I knew it, my daydreams were filled with images of Spencer stuffing me into the tiniest closet he could find and having his way with me.

“Oh, I’m the one lacking manners?” Spencer chuckled as he apparently read my very lewd thoughts. He pried my arms off of him and pulled them back to rest at my sides before pressing a strangely chaste kiss on my forehead. “Go get your stuff. I’m going to go talk to Hotch and I’ll meet you by the door.”

Before he disappeared around the corner, he shot me one last warning glance and ordered, “Do not mingle!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” I yelled back.

Once he was gone, it was my job to figure out how to make my body work again. Luckily, it wasn’t the first time I’d had too much to drink in a room filled with drunk adults. Granted, they usually weren’t all cops, but, whatever.

Turns out, it somehow made it easier. I managed to grab my things off the counter without alerting anyone except Penelope, who quickly turned back around with a blush. She probably figured I was gonna go blow him in the bathroom or something. I’d have been offended if the thought hadn’t literally just crossed my mind. I made it all the way to the door before I heard it. Back through the halls, a few of the group had separated to talk about how much harder it had been to see Hotch and JJ. It was nothing, just a little bug spreading through daycares like wildfire. That wasn’t what upset me, though.

No, the thoughts running through my head were more than just a passing thought of kids sick with a cold. I looked up at the walls of the entryway to Rossi’s home and saw intricate moulding and nothingness. I saw the exquisite, pristine rug underneath my feet, and I thought about how lonely it felt.

I was standing in a house that should have felt happy, filled with friends and family and love. There was no doubt that everyone who was there wanted to be there, and probably had nowhere else they’d rather be. But the tall ceilings and thousands of square feet felt so goddamn empty.

It isn’t the building, I heard a tiny, terrified voice call out from inside my own conscience.

It’s you. You’re empty.

I had to leave. I had to get out of the house. I had to hear the silence so that the nothingness would feel more appropriate and less noticeable. I couldn’t let them see me, because if they saw me, they would know. They would know that I was nothing but a husk of the girl they used to know. Without even thinking, I threw the door open, stumbling forward and almost falling flat on my face as I misjudged the small step down to the patio.

“Fuck!” I muttered, the world rocking around me with a stubborn persistence. If it weren’t for the frankly freezing temperature, I was sure I would have been sick. To make matters worse, there was a person quickly approaching.  

“Hey, are you and Spence leaving already?”

It was JJ. Thank god, it was JJ. Probably the only person who wouldn’t make fun of me for being a mess on Rossi’s steps after only a few shots of whatever Morgan was drinking.

“Oh. Hey, JJ. Yeah. He’s…” I turned to my side, half expecting Spencer to be there to answer for me. But he wasn’t, so I ended up just pointing to the closed door before slurring, “he’s doing a thing.”

She was, per usual, very kind when faced with my buffoonery, and just laughed as she shook her head. “A thing. Sounds like him.”

I honestly thought that would be the end of it. It was a good, easy segue into a farewell. She already knew we were leaving, and she knew Spencer well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave me alone for long.

And I think she almost did leave. She almost walked right past me and into the warmth and comfort of a home filled with family and friends. But she didn’t. She stopped and asked me the one question I was really hoping she wouldn’t.

“Are you alright?”

I didn’t want her to ask because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Even if I could have managed it, she would have seen right through me in a second. Not only would it have been an exercise in futility, but she would also know that I thought it was worth it to try to lie.

So, I was honest… quite possibly too honest.

“No, not really. But it’s a lot and I’m kind of drunk, so…”

The mom eyes appeared so quickly, with JJ’s body turning entirely away from the door and over to me. “Not usually a good combination, but an understandable one,” she softly replied, wrapping her arms around herself to make up for the fact that she was sacrificing her comfort in many different ways to talk to me, instead.  

She was probably just being nice— staying with me until Spencer could come take over the babysitting of the drunk twenty year old, but I wasn’t exactly thinking critically at the time. Which is only part of the reason why I blurted out the only thing on my mind; the thing that had been haunting me for longer than I wanted to admit even to myself, much less another person.

“Has Spencer ever talked to you about kids?”

The air, still freezing, also fell uncomfortably silent.

“Oh…” she mumbled under her breath, clearly unsure of how to handle that particular minefield of a topic. Especially with her best friend’s girlfriend, who also happened to be drunk. I almost told her to forget about it, but then she looked up at me with a powerful resolve. “Yeah, he has. Why?”

I thought about my next words more carefully, although you wouldn’t have been able to tell considering how much I stuttered.

“Do you think… Do you think he’d be happy if… I can’t have them?” I asked, wringing my hands together over my stomach. “Like, not just happy today, but like ten years from now?” I could hear how desperate I sounded, but I needed someone to hear the words playing on loop in my mind. Absolutely frantic and with tears pooling in my eyes, I asked, “Do you think he’d still love me if I can’t give him kids?”

“(Y/n), slow down. It’s okay!” JJ urged, lunging forward to cup my cheeks and gently wipe away any stray tears. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your make up and it looks like you spent a lot of time on it.”

I had to laugh because not only was it my exact brand of humor, she said it with such a serious face that I had to wonder if it was genuinely her biggest concern. Of course, I knew it wasn’t. In her usual JJ way, she just knew the easiest way to cheer me up was with a laugh.

“Yeah, there’s like $80 on my face, it’s really not worth it to cry,” I agreed, sniffling softly when she finally pulled away her hands. At least I could blame that part on the cold.

“Exactly. And if you cry, then I’ll cry, and then I’ll also ruin my make up, and we’ll just be $150 down the drain with nothing to show for it,” she joked with a tired roll of her eyes and a shrug.  

Together, we laughed, finding a pocket of warmth in a world that often felt too cold. Behind JJ’s eyes though, I saw an empathy I wasn’t expecting. That small, instinctual part of my brain tugged at my heart, telling me that there was an unspoken bond forming. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know why. I had a feeling that it was one of those secrets you just didn’t ask about, so I let it go.

“Thanks. It’s a stupid thought anyway,” I sighed, shuffling my feet and knocking my heels against the somehow spotless patio. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, so why stress about it, right?”

But then JJ said something I wasn’t expecting. Something that I actually really, really needed to hear.  

“I don’t know, I think you’re allowed to be worried. It’s normal to feel scared.”

The sentence hit me like a freight train carrying lead and cement. At first, my brain refused to comprehend it at all. I struggled to repeat the idea, not because I was drunk but because it sounded so wrong. I had wanted it to be true so badly, and here she was, telling me it was okay.

Sensing my simultaneous trepidation and revelation, JJ cringed a bit when she said, “But I think it is a good idea to talk to Spence about it instead of me. Because, to be honest, I’ve also had one too many glasses to be helpful.”

That time when I laughed, it was full-hearted and involved every muscle in my body. “God, I love you, Jennifer,” I said through the noise.

She just shook her head, clearly enjoying the drastic mood swing she’d had a great part in. “I love you, too,” she whispered, running her hand over my shoulder and arm to pull me into a small half-hug. And that was how Spencer found us, giggling and sniffling on Rossi’s porch.

“Hey, are you ready to— Oh! Hey JJ,” he stopped, taking a very hesitant step forward in the hope that we wouldn’t both start crying on the spot. Drunk girls had a tendency to do that. “W-What are you guys doing out here?”

She let me go first, shoving her hand, still damp with my tears, into her pockets with a secretive smile. “Girl talk.”

“That usually doesn’t bode well for me,” Spencer answered with an awkward, nervous laugh. He didn’t make a move to grab me yet, probably too scared to step between the two of us. I was too busy giggling at the thought of his mind cycling through all the possible secrets I might have spilled in my uninhibited state.

I was tipsy, but I wasn’t that drunk.

JJ pulled two fingers over her mouth in a cheeky motion as she whispered, “My lips are sealed.”

“An even worse sign,” Spencer winced, turning to finally wrap his arm around me. He must have noticed the chill on my skin, because seconds later he had me practically wrapped in his coat. “I should just cut my losses and get her out of here, huh?”

“Shut up, old man,” I slurred, cuddling closer to his body heat despite my protests. Even in the darkness, I watched the heat bloom in his face at the nickname. By far, the worst part about the situation was the fact that I couldn’t kiss him, because I just knew he would be so warm, and I was really starting to get cold. I suspect that’s why he started to whisk me away, unceremoniously shushing me as JJ cleared her throat and raised her hand in a wave.  

Before we got too far, though, I heard her speak again. “Oh! (Y/n), your questions!”

“What about them?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder and nearly falling to the ground as a result.

JJ looked at me, and then back to Spencer, whose arm was wrapped possessively around me. She smiled a pure, toothy grin that filled her face, causing that weird feeling in my gut to flare up again. She saw something in that moment that I wasn’t sure I’d ever really understand, but her voice started to crack just enough to notice when she called out, “The answer is yes. To all of them.”

 —————————————————

 The ride back to Spencer’s place was uneventful, though I tried very hard to make it interesting. After the fourth time he'd swatted away my hand and threatened to throw me in the back, I gave in to his demand to behave. I blamed my compliance on the alcohol, although it was probably more so a result of total exhaustion.

The respite from socialization was apparently what I needed to be able to function again, because as soon as we pulled into his apartment parking lot, I was awake.

... Awake enough to try and maul him in the hallway. But, in his sober stubbornness, he continued to evade my advances all the way until his front door clicked shut behind us. His hands on my hips had never felt like such a victory before.

“Did you enjoy wreaking havoc all night?” he whispered, slowly leading us towards his room. I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t need to. Even without an eidetic memory, my body cherished this path and the memories it always led to. I trusted him to catch me if I stumbled. Which, I definitely did.

“I’m the cutest devil you’ll ever see,” I slurred.

“At least you admit it,” Spencer laughed. I couldn’t tell if it was at my words or the fact that I was failing terribly at trying to unbutton his shirt. My drunk self was not a skilled multitasker.

Once I felt the bed against the back of my thighs, I hopped on top of the covers before he could even try to help me up. It was muscle memory. We’d been there before.

“I’m feeling more fallen angel tonight,” I sighed, sliding against the comforter until I found his pillow.

Naturally, Spencer saw the way I gravitated to his side. He smiled as he removed his shirt that I’d left mostly intact. “By all means, feel free to stay that way.”

I probably should have taken off my dress, or my shoes, but I didn’t. The world sort of felt like a wave pool on a sunny day, and I was worried that if I paid too much attention to what was going on around me, I'd think about something I really didn’t want to think about.

I couldn’t remember what it was.

But then Spencer’s hands were gliding up and down my calves, and I shuddered at the contact. He took his time removing my shoes before coming up to join me on all fours. I wondered if he could taste the whiskey on my tongue when he kissed me. Did it remind him of the circumstances that had brought us together? Did it remind him of his hangover and sins?

Did he think of monsters when he kissed me?

My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling lightly to try to keep him there. And when he pulled away, I tried to fight him. I tried to follow him, scared that once the kiss was over, I’d start remembering things I probably should have tried to forget.

He must have seen the denial in my eyes, because he hesitated. His hand came up to lightly grab my wrist and lead my hand that had a death grip on his hair down to his face. “Are you too drunk? Should we stop?”

Throwing my head back with a groan, I tried not to hate him for actually caring about me again. “If you stop right now, I’m going to actually scream,” I droned. It got me a laugh, at least.

“That doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.”

Once I opened my eyes, I found myself wishing I hadn’t. It wasn’t that I saw hesitancy or fear in Spencer’s eyes – on the contrary, it was the lack of anything bad at all that bothered me. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a sincere, pure adoration that I couldn’t argue with.

I chose to ignore it, instead. I couldn’t remember why it made my stomach hurt.

“Are you going to make me do a sobriety test?” I giggled, letting my hands travel down his shoulders and chest. I wasn’t in as much of a rush as I had been earlier. I wanted to take my time remembering what it felt like to be pinned under him and surrounded by his embrace.

“I’m positive that you’ve practiced those while drunk,” he playfully replied while trying to hide the way goosebumps followed my fingers as they trailed down to more interesting territory.  

“Yeah, I can say the alphabet backwards and everything.”

It was meant as a joke, but Spencer apparently had some doubts. With a scrunched up smile, he laughed back as he asked, “Really?”

The fact that he believed I was capable of something like that might have been flattering if it hadn't been based on his incredibly flawed perception of my propensity to lawbreaking. But since it was based on ideas of immorality rather than intelligence, it just made me mad.

Smacking him lightly on the chest, I both pouted and laughed as I snapped back, “No, of course not, asshole!”

Spencer just grinned, giving a delayed wince at the offensive contact before he sat up again. I didn’t realize why at first, but as he slowly started to coax me into turning around, I remembered that I was, in fact, still fully dressed. I figured it was either his way of saying that I’d won, or just an excuse to take off the dress so I might actually go to sleep. I was fine with either.

“I was drunk the first night we met, if you’ve forgotten,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side of the bed and moving my hair so that he wouldn’t catch any in the zipper.

“I definitely haven’t forgotten that night.”

The nostalgia in his voice was both comforting and painful. We’d always joked about that night, though. It wasn’t an insult at all.

“No? Do you think about it often?” I replied playfully, forcing myself not to think too hard about whether he wished I was still the girl he'd met that day.

Spencer made it easy to forget, with his hand starting to draw the zipper down while he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I think about it all the time.” My breath hitched in my throat at the way his voice warped into a rough, raspy tone. “You almost made me believe that you were just some shy, innocent little girl.”

This time when he got me to turn back over, there was nothing gentle about it. His hands were clearly craving the kind of violence they got to use last time. I wanted to feel them again.

“We can make a new memory if you want,” I panted, looking up at him with wanton eyes and my dress loose enough to expose parts of my breasts to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight below him. He pressed his erection against my hip as he ran a hand over my cheek. “Tell me the rules.”

“I tell you to stop if I need to,” I carefully enunciated.

“Good girl,” he moaned, starting to rock against me. Struggling to pull my dress off himself, he pleaded in a slightly pitiful manner, “Can I…?”

I helped him, desperate to feel his skin against mine. I didn’t even think about what it meant for my dress to be gone. It wasn’t until Spencer’s mouth dropped to my chest so enthusiastically that I realized that he’d failed to stop and kiss my lips first.

With both hands on my breasts, he lavished each pebbled peak with his fingers and tongue. He hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he’d missed me shirtless, but it was painfully obvious in the way his lips trailed along my body. It was obvious in the rumbling of his moans against my skin and the way his hands roughly kneaded the soft tissue.

I was forced to remember why I hadn’t let him see me topless.

I felt naked. Not because of the exposed skin, but because I couldn’t warp reality with lace or cotton anymore. My marred stomach might not have made a physical barrier, but it still made him feel so far away. It was a paralyzing kind of realization, and I felt myself retreat so quickly that it hurt.

Thankfully, it was Spencer who was kissing me. If it had been anyone else, I think I would have just laid there, terrified and small and alone. But I couldn’t do that with him.

“Spencer?” I quietly called, and he immediately stopped, his eyes meeting mine with all the attention a girl could ever ask for. I smiled, and the sensation almost felt foreign.

“Come kiss me here instead,” I said with a little giggle, tapping my lips to bring him back to where I wanted him. And he came to me so quickly, his mouth crashing onto mine in seconds and his hands tangling in my hair.

I had forgotten so quickly how easy it was to get lost in him. Thanks to the alcohol, my mind wasn’t able to stick with any thought for longer than a few seconds. Mixing that with Spencer’s hands and mouth, I was never going to be able to think in more than a few words at a time. And I shouldn’t have needed to, right? It was just sex. We’d done it many times before, and it had never been a disappointment. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of mind — some instinctual warning that told me I was doing something wrong.

I wanted him, so what could be wrong about that? There was nothing painful or unappreciated in the way he lined himself up at my entrance, and I certainly made that much clear. It was hard to even hear him over the sound of my own moans, and my nails dug into his shoulder as I guided him into me with my hips.

“I love you,” I cried, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my heels into the back of his thighs.

“I love you so much, little girl,” he whispered against my lips, his forehead resting against mine.

For a moment, it was okay. The feeling subsided long enough for me to enjoy the fact that Spencer, the man I loved, loved me back. I thought about how long it had taken us to get to this point, and how I never wanted to lose it again. I held onto him for dear life, rocking my hips to meet his and bringing his mouth down to mine.

It was okay, until he spoke again.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into my mouth, “even when you’re being bad you just want to be useful.”

Useful.

The word had come back to haunt me several times in the recent weeks. I hadn’t said anything about it because I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much. There was no reason for me to be upset. He was just saying what I usually liked to hear.

So why did it hurt?

And I realized then, that the reason that experience felt so horrible wasn’t because of me at all. It was because it was Spencer. It was Spencer, the man I loved. There he was, trying to love me and comfort me and hold me and I…

In a rush of emotions and memories and repressed regrets, I was forced to face the fact that I had made a terrible mistake. The kind of mistake that if I didn’t do something about it in that exact, immediate moment, would become a disaster. The kind of disaster that meant he might never want to touch me again. The kind that would make him hate me. The kind that would make him leave and I couldn’t blame him for.

I had made a mistake.

“Wait, wait, Spencer, stop!” I slurred, my hands that had been holding him close seconds earlier shoving him off of me with the little force I was capable of. It didn’t take much, though, considering how fast he jumped back.

Frantic and terrified, he grabbed my face and tried to inspect my eyes that were avoiding him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look at him. “No, I just really need to stop,” I muttered, my breath picking up even more as I slid away from him, “Can I just— Can you just give me a minute?”

My hands slid over my chest, trying to hide the shame I felt inside to no avail. Spencer only made it worse in the way he quickly grabbed clothing, covering me in his shirt before he dressed himself. He even took the time to find me pants and help me in them, quietly and carefully. Like a doll.

I was going to be sick.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he croaked brokenly while he curled up at my side, trying to wrap his arms around me before he realized I was shrinking away from his touch. He was so confused. He had no reason to know what was going on, but I could see on his face that he was desperately trying to figure it out.

“Does this have something to do with what you were talking to JJ about?”

An interesting question. I didn’t know the answer.

“Yes. No? Maybe. I guess?” I ran a hand over my face that landed on my throbbing temple. The lack of tears on my face almost surprised me. I probably should have been crying, but I wasn’t. In a way, it felt like I had no tears left to give. When I turned to him, bile rose in my throat and I was afraid that I might choke on it if I didn’t get the words out faster. I just had to tell him. He needed to know.

“Listen, I lied to you. And I need to say something.”

I had just gotten my breathing under control, just in time for his to go erratic. His pulse was visible in his throat as he swallowed. “Lied to me? About what?”

“I…” The world was rocking, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or my brain trying to comprehend my own self-destructive stupidity. I knew which one I was going to blame, though. “Fuck, I didn’t think I was this drunk.”

“What did you lie to me about?” he repeated, his hands gripping handfuls of the sheet in hopes of stopping the rest of his body from trembling.

“Well, I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you.”

It was the most useless clarification, and it did absolutely nothing to appease his concern. The longer the words stayed stuck and muddled in my mouth, the more devastated he seemed. In hindsight, I would realize all the millions of awful reasons his mind must have been feeding him in the absence of the truth.

“Please, whatever it is, just tell me,” Spencer begged with a hesitant, shaky hand coming to rest on top of mine. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, we both looked down at our hands. It was a mercy and a disservice. I just had to tell him, but I couldn’t convince myself to do it without looking him in the eyes. That didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful that he didn’t look back, though. Because once the words were said, there would be no going back from them.

He was going to hate me.

“I… stopped taking my birth control,” I whispered in a voice that felt so foreign. “Like, a while ago.”

Spencer’s jaw steeled, his eyes widening and shooting up to me with the same speed he used to jump off the bed. Despite my efforts to grab him, to stop him from leaving me, he was five feet away in a matter of seconds.

“What?!” he shouted. It was the loudest I’d ever heard him. Even the echoes felt deafening, and my hands covered my ears with a wince.

“Shit! That was loud!” I whined in a pathetic attempt to make him feel bad for me. I didn’t deserve it, but I think it worked. Because the next time he spoke, it was at a more manageable volume.

“What do you mean you stopped taking your birth control?! When?!”

“Stop yelling at me.” I pulled my knees to my chest and ignored the pain in my stomach when I did so. It felt well deserved.

“You aren’t joking, either. Why didn’t you tell me this?” Spencer continued, his hands raking through his hair while he started to pace the room.

Nothing about it felt real. I felt like I was stuck in one of my million recurring nightmares. I just wanted to wake up, to be somewhere other than in a room too small for the bass in his voice. I only barely saw him when he finally approached me. He still stayed a few feet away, but he met my eyes that stared vacantly at the wall ahead of me.  

“Answer me!”

Whether it was the order that broke me or the pain in his voice, all of my resolve and apathy shattered at once.

“You’ve always said you wanted to get me pregnant!” I screamed back, digging my nails into my skin in the hope of finding feeling there.

“Not like this! Not right now!” he scoffed. The sound would have hurt more if he hadn't stepped closer to me when he made it.

“Why not?!” I tried to sound angry, but all I heard was the plea beneath the words.

I just want to be useful. Please let me be useful.

“Are you serious?” Spencer’s disbelief was present in every ounce of his existence. His hands were alternating between fists and flat palms, his voice cracking and wavering in pitch. “What has gotten into you? You know that you can’t have a child right now.”

I bit down on my tongue in one final attempt to keep the scary words inside. But he couldn’t feel the way his words felt just like bullets and scar tissue that would never fully heal again.

“You almost died! Do you—“ he choked, but powered through his body’s attempt to stop the thought. “Do you understand the danger that would put you in?”

“I know, alright?! I know!” The words were loud and hoarse, and I covered my own ears to hopefully drown out the sound of failure on my own tongue. “I know I can’t have a fucking kid right now!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

I don’t know. Please, help me.

He waited for my answer, but it stayed trapped in my head. When I started to rock in place, my hands still clamped over my ears and the tears I swore I didn’t have starting to fall, he sighed.  

“Get up, we’re going to the store.”

“Why?” I spat, sinking further into my spot in a purely selfish manner.

“Get up,” he said again, this time reaching out for my hand.

But I didn’t want to touch him. I didn’t want him to touch me like this. I was scared that if I did what he wanted, then the fight would be over. And if the fight ended, then what would be left? Was this all just some elaborate ruse to get me in his car so that he could drive me home and leave me there?

His hand touched mine so softly, with so much patience and love that it burned. Why wasn’t he angrier? He should be.

“No!” I screamed, smacking his hand away from me. Although I knew it didn’t hurt, I saw him wince at the contact. His lips flattened as he looked at the stupid sobbing girl on his bed.  

Then he left. He turned on his heel, and with less patience that time, grumbled the explanation he'd refused to give before. “We’re going to the store and getting levonorgestrel so that you don’t make the stupidest mistake of your life.”

It wasn’t the words that got me to move, but the fact that he was quickly leaving the room. I scrambled after him recklessly, crashing into just about every stationary object in the way. The shock had hit me so hard that I forgot I was still drunk.

“Is it really that awful to imagine having a future with me?” I sobbed, chasing after him just to crash into him when he stopped.

He still caught me, but I couldn’t tell you why.

“You know that’s not what this is about.” He sounded so tired, but he kept going. He kept fighting with me even though I could see in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I love you, (y/n)! But you’re acting like… like a child!”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, pushing myself away from him.

I was scared that if I didn’t force our bodies apart, I would have fallen to pieces in his arms again. And I knew he would try to put me back together again. He would try to help me because that’s what he always did. But sometimes things are just completely, irrevocably broken. Sometimes there was simply no fixing it.

Good luck convincing Spencer of that.

“I don’t need this shit and I don’t need to go to the store,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way back into the bedroom to locate my purse that I’d so gracefully thrown on the floor.

“(Y/n), just because the chances of pregnancy are low doesn’t mean they are nonexistent, and I’m not going to be the reason you throw your life away! You said yourself you aren’t ready to be a housewife!” I heard him rambling from the other room. Eventually, he followed the sounds of plastic packaging and rustling paper.

“Shut up,” I groaned, finally getting the tiny pill free and successfully shoving it in my mouth before I managed to drop it. “Just leave me alone, Spencer.”

Obviously, it wasn’t going to work. After all, I was in his apartment, and currently sitting cross legged in the middle of his bedroom and trying to dry swallow a pill that tasted a lot like every mistake I’d ever made.

“When did you buy that? And why do you have it with you?” He didn’t sound angry at all anymore. He didn’t even particularly sound annoyed or confused, just… exhausted.

“You’re welcome for saving you the drive.”

Of all the things he could have done, he chose the one I expected the least. He came to me, and carefully lowered himself to the ground in front of me. At first, that was all he did. He just sat across from me with puppy dog eyes and an awkward posture.

“Look at me,” he called gently.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed, waiting another second to catch his breath and let the earlier emotions settle in the air. “You had that in your purse. Why?” he asked as he reached forward to grab the remnants of the torn up box and confirm that it was what he thought it was. Once he was satisfied, he just sounded even more broken. “You’ve clearly thought about it enough to plan ahead, but apparently I wasn’t important enough to have a say in any of these decisions.”

The pain that was forming in my stomach hurt worse than the AR-15.

“Were you just… Just planning on making those decisions without even telling me?” He was on the verge of tears, though he tried his very best to hide it.  It might’ve worked if I'd been both drunk and an idiot, but unfortunately the adrenaline was combatting the alcohol pretty well at that point.

With both hands covering his face, I could still see the way his jaw tensed between the words. “It would be my child, too,” he forced out, “You don’t— You don’t get to make those decisions without me. T-That’s not fair.”

The sounds were so pitiful, and I wanted to feel anything but what I felt. I wanted to feel angry or sad again, but I couldn’t. All I felt was hate; the most powerful, soul crushing self-loathing imaginable.

I didn’t want to be the reason he cried. I wanted it to stop, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t control myself. I just kept rubbing salt in the wound so he would leave. So that I could hate him for leaving me instead of hating myself for making him.

“There’s no kid. I would’ve taken it either way.”

That succeeded in getting a response.

“Then what was the point of any of this?!” he fumed, dropping his hands to gestured to the state of us, dressed in pajamas and tears. “If you really believe that, then why tell me? Why risk it at all?!”

“I don’t know.”

“I deserve a better answer than that. That’s bullshit and you know it,” he demanded with an accusing finger.

But I didn’t know that it was bullshit. Really, it was the truth. I didn’t know why I was doing this. All I knew was that if I stopped, if I was just honest with him, I would have to face a reality I wasn’t ready for.

“I deserve the truth,” he said as his hand fell, unable to stay up under the weight of the feeling behind it.

I looked at him and I saw my mistakes in the form of tears trickling down his cheeks and a tremble in his lips. I saw a man who deserved nothing but the greatest love, begging me to give him something to work with. He wasn’t asking me for the world — he just wanted me to talk. To say something so that he could understand why I wanted him to hate me.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one that either of us would believe, anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spencer.” My lips moved without my permission, and my legs quickly followed the traitorous pursuit.

“What does that mean?” he begged me as he followed me. He followed me like he always did, with that suffocating hopefulness that we could make it.

But what if I couldn’t? What if this was it for me? What if, in my desperate desire to push him away, I was saving him from a miserable life with me?

I was trying to save him.

“It means…” I paused, turning to look him in the eyes so that he might finally hear what he needed to in my answer. “It means you should’ve picked a different 20 year old to fuck.”

His jaw finally relaxed, dropping open with a broken breath.

And I think he saw it. I think he saw the way I meant the words from the bottom of my soul. He heard me tell him that he should regret me while I tried to walk away, and he knew that I meant it.

“I’m leaving.” The words surprised me when I heard them in my own voice, but I followed them, nonetheless. I barreled towards the door with bare feet and my keys in my hand.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave like this.” His statements were logical, but that only served to further piss me off.

“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your property!”

That wasn’t why I was angry. We both knew that wasn’t why. The real reason, the truth behind the reckless self-destruction was approaching too fast and I couldn’t slow it down. Nothing could stop it from rushing down the predetermined path that we stood on, and I was begging him to get off the tracks.  

“If you leave right now, you’re going to fucking kill yourself!”

And then it happened. Practically foaming at the mouth with the unhinged rage that had been boiling underneath my skin for too long, I finally managed to let the words go.

“Maybe that’s the fucking point!”

Silence had never been so loud. It had never been that heavy.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that, Spencer?” I laughed because there was no reason in my mind not to. It all seemed so terribly obvious and we’d been skirting around it for so long. Why were we pretending like this was news? Like we hadn’t heard the horns and seen the headlights approaching?

“Please stop.” It was said like a plea but meant as an order. But I never listened to directions and he already knew that.

“I’m not your problem just because you were unfortunate enough to fall in love with me,” I continued, finding a freedom in being able to finally say what I’d been thinking all along. “Put me out of my fucking misery, Spencer. Just let me go.”

“Stop!” he shouted, pulling fistfuls of his hair as his chest heaved with deep, rasping breaths. I’d heard that voice from him before, but only once. The memories were locked away in the part of my brain that I swore to leave locked up.

I was back in the bank. I could feel his hands slipping in blood on my stomach and pressing into my cheeks. I was in the ambulance again. His hands were so warm that they burned, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to leave. I'd had one foot in the grave then. I felt like I was still there, teetering over the edge with nothing but Spencer’s frantic breathing and desperate begging keeping me from jumping in.

“Stop saying that!” Spencer ordered, his hands letting go just enough to come back down on his head with some force. I jumped at the contact and wondered when I'd started feeling his pain, too.  I wondered when we'd found ourselves back in his apartment again.

“Y-You aren’t going to die!” He continued. It didn’t have the force of an order or the pathetic breaking of a cry. It was just a statement he was trying to will into existence. An attempt to ward off memories that reminded him he was capable of losing me. He had already almost lost me once. In a way, it was this same scenario.

It was just that he wasn’t losing me quickly from a gunshot wound. No, I was bleeding out in an entirely different way.

“You can’t— I can’t lose you. I can’t do it again,” he sobbed, falling to his knees and not caring at all about the bruises that would follow. The sight of him collapsing in on himself was terrifying, and I realized for the first time the true consequences of my actions. I couldn’t pretend that I was trying to save him anymore. I couldn’t listen to the congested, barely comprehensible ramblings of a man begging me not to want to die and act like I was thinking of him at all.

I was being selfish. How very much like me.

“Please, anything but that. You can hate me forever, but please don’t…” The words trailed off, and I felt compelled to answer them. I needed something to release the knot in my chest and allow my lungs to fill again.

“I don’t hate you, Spencer. I could never hate you.” The words were infuriating in their honesty, but he needed to hear them. He needed to know that none of this was his fault, that he’d done nothing wrong other than meet me.

I couldn’t leave him like that. He deserved so much better than me, but that was all that I had. So, I climbed down next to him, reaching out to him and hoping that he would hold me back.

To my surprise, he did. His hands grabbed mine like they were a lifeline, bringing them to his lips wet with tears. And although he was silent, I could hear the way he prayed that they wouldn’t fade away from him again.

“I-I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you. I’m supposed to be the adult here, I’m supposed to know how to fix these things, but I have no idea what I’m doing, (y/n).”

It was an admission Spencer didn’t often make. The complete helplessness and inability to fix the puzzle before him didn’t just hurt because it was painful to watch, it was also just another reminder of his limits.

One time he had promised me that he wouldn’t let anything hurt me. I should have told him that it was a stupid promise to make then. I should have showed him the skeletons in my closet and the mess in my hands.

But it didn’t matter anymore. He had already seen it, and it was too late. I’d made too many mistakes, and I had to face them. I couldn’t run away anymore. That meant listening to Spencer, pouring his heart out to me and clutching my hands like they would turn to nothing in front of him.

“You’re falling apart and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to make this stop hurting. I don’t know how to help you. Sometimes you’re so happy but other times I can see it in your eyes…”

Our eyes met, unguarded, for the first time in what felt like hours but was actually probably only a few minutes. We looked into each other’s eyes and tried to read each other’s minds. I didn’t know what he saw, but I heard the way it struck him.

“Do you… Do you want to leave me?” he asked.

And I realized then, that was what my behavior was leading up to. That was what my mind was racing towards, without ever considering whether it was what was best for me. Because I wasn’t thinking about what was best for me, or what I wanted, or what I should want. All I cared about was the same concern Spencer had for me— I didn’t want him to throw his life away just to be with me.

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Spencer heard something in my question that brought life back to his eyes. I wished that I could hear his thoughts because he always seemed so much farther ahead. Like he could see the immediate future and knew what would follow.

Then again, maybe I was just idealizing him. I had a tendency to do that. He wasn’t a superhero. He was just a man, trying his best in a world that never really let him rest. I certainly didn’t help with that.

“No. No, that’s not what I want at all,” he said, his hands finding the courage to let go of mine and slide up my arms. He cupped my face with such an urgency and relief that it almost felt the same as before I had uttered those terrifying words. “I told you I want to marry you and I wasn’t kidding.”

It only took a few words for any progress and vulnerability to be obliterated. Four words. That’s all it took.

I want to marry you.

A white picket fence is what I’d promised him. I'd painted a vivid image of us with two children that were just like him. A normal, domestic life is what I’d said.

I hadn't known. I'd made a mistake. I had lied.

“Stop fucking saying that!” I wished the fight would leave my body and let my weary muscles rest, but it kept coming back. Sure as the sun rises in the morning, I couldn’t let go of the hatred. It had to go somewhere, and Spencer continued to be the stupid, stubborn man putting himself in front of me without any defenses.

I don’t think he was expecting that, though. He jumped back at the sound, his hands bracing his fall as I flailed to get away from him. I didn’t have the energy or coordination to stand, so I just let myself fall to pieces on the floor in front of him.

“Stop telling me about this future you have planned for us b-because I’m a useless, idiotic fuck up, and it’s freaking me the fuck out!”

Naturally, the only thing that could incense Spencer more than violating his trust was, apparently, talking badly about myself. Because as soon as he heard the words, he was wound up just the same.

“What are you so afraid of?!”

Without thinking about the words, implications, or consequences, I gave him the answer he fought for. I gave it to him because I couldn’t hold it any longer. I gave it to him and hoped that it would grant me the closure he sought, too.

“That I won’t ever be able to give you a baby and you’re going to fucking leave me!”

Spencer, in all his shock and disbelief, could only utter back a single, exasperated, “…What?” The way the word fell out of his mouth almost sounded like a laugh, the side of his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.

“I’m scared that when I stop being useful to you, you’re going to leave me like everyone else,” I explained, my voice as small as I felt in that moment.

But Spencer, in his uncanny ability to predict the future, was trying not to smile. Don’t get me wrong — he wasn’t laughing at me, and the words certainly brought him no joy. But there was something else buried beneath the suffering.

“Come here,” he requested with a sad, small grin and a wave of his hand. When he saw the hesitance on my face, he beckoned me closer again with more feeling. “I want to talk to you. Come here.”

So I came. I came as close to him as I could. And as I practically sat in his lap, I remembered how much easier it was to breathe when he held me, and how much lighter the tears felt when he wiped them a way.

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you?” he asked through a chuckle, like the very notion was so unbelievable that it couldn’t be uttered as anything other than a joke.

“Y-You want kids,” I mumbled, looking down at our t-shirts wet with tears. I played with the hem of his to remind myself that we were both still there. And although Spencer sympathized, he didn’t seem too keen on me looking away at that particular moment. With a gentle finger under my chin, he guided my eyes back to his.

“Okay. So do you, right?”

“Well, yeah…” I paused and pursed my lips and bit down on the bottom one. I waited until he raised his eyebrows in a challenge before I explained. “But what if I can’t have any?”

Spencer’s face scrunched up with his shoulders in a dismissive shrug, “There are other ways to have kids. I’m not worried about that at all.”

Just like that, he’d waved away my fears of inadequacy and failure like they were smoke from an already snuffed out candle. He made it so clear so quickly that biology wasn’t the thing that mattered. That it wasn’t my genetics or physical traits that made him want to share a literal life with me.

Spencer didn’t need me to have his children; he just wanted me to raise some with him.

“Why are you worried about that? Did something happen?” he pressed forward, unsatisfied with the idea that I might still be carrying some heaviness without his assistance.

“The doctor told me that I might not ever be able to have my own kids and I just...”

I should have known better than to doubt the insistence of his greedy hands. They would never let a burden belong solely to me. And I… didn’t want to bear the weight alone anymore, either. The dam was broken, and my heart came rushing out into his waiting arms.

“I’m so tired of it, Spencer. I’m tired of this stupid shit stealing my life away from me. You’ve been taking care of me for months, a-and the way you look at me sometimes-- I can see it on your face. I can feel the way it hurts you just to look at me.”

That hurt flashed in his eyes right then but faded with a swiftness I hadn’t seen in a long time. He didn’t want me to see it yet. One fight at a time, I heard him think. When this shifted load balanced between us again, we could figure the rest out.

First, we had to settle this. It had to end.

“If I can’t give you children, and I can’t... I can’t make you happy then—“

“Stop,” he demanded, his finger coming up to cover my lips. There was no argument to be made at his protest. With a deathly seriousness veiled with bowed brows and a lip that still trembled, Spencer whispered to me, “You can feel however you want to, but you don’t get to decide how I feel.”

Tears welled in both of our eyes, threatening to fall with the other. But they didn’t, they stayed pooled at our lashes and drowned us in visions of haloed lights and blurry reflections.

“I am so happy with you. No matter what. Every second of every day. Do you understand me?”

The only answer I had the strength to give was my surrender. Collapsing forward into his arms, I buried my face into his shoulder. I reveled in the warmth of his chest and the strength of his hands on my back. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek as the deep, joyful breaths he took in came out as relieved laughter.

“I love you, (y/n).”

He must have heard, or at least felt, my soft groan in response, because he peeled me off of him with a smirk. “What’s wrong now?” he asked in an equally tired whine.

“You only use my name when you’re angry or sad,” I grumbled through a pout. It only felt a little silly, to joke about something so stupid minutes after screaming our hearts at each other. We were just so tired, and the finish line was in sight. We just wanted to cross it together, and preferably with less tears involved.

Spencer didn’t say any of that, but I felt it, nonetheless. It was clear in the way he pushed my hair from my face before running his fingers down my jaw. “I use your name when I’m worried,” he corrected. “And you scared me tonight. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way.”

We were toeing the line back into heavy emotions, and I shook my head to ask him not to take me back there tonight. But I couldn’t blame him at the same time. He’d so gracefully handled all of my fears and rage; he deserved a chance to voice his own. They’d fallen so far behind in the race towards the truth.

“I understand you were scared to tell me, but...” he stopped, trying to find a way to explain it without hurting my feelings. He really was too nice to me.

“I know. It was stupid. I feel terrible,” I finished for him. Once my face hit his shoulder again, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” I said with almost all of the energy I had left. He stroked soothing patterns over my back, and after a moment I realized that we’d started to rock. I wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or mine.

“I appreciate your apology, but please promise me that you’ll talk to someone about this,” he humbly requested, his words muffled in my hair.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”

It was almost a joke. Spencer wasn’t going to let it go, though. “Don’t try to be clever with me, little girl. I need you to talk to someone who knows how to help you,” he playfully scolded.

Through a yawn and a chuckle, I pressed on in my attempt to end the night on a horrible joke. “Isn’t that your whole job?”

“Yeah, I guess it is sometimes, huh?” he agreed halfheartedly. Really, he was only trying to give me a little bit of a win. We both knew his job wasn’t very good at helping people before the fact. It was just another poor attempt at avoiding healing. I had been holding on to that anger so tightly that there wasn’t room for us in the space that was left.

“But I think you also know I can’t be that person for you,” Spencer eloquently said, cradling my head as it started to rock with each motion.

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, “I promise.”

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but no matter what, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough. The rhythm of his heart evened out over time, settling into the lullaby I needed to finally find some rest. But realistically, we couldn’t sleep there. Spencer was kind enough to practically carry me back into the bed we had shared when this all started, although this time he laid beside me.

From there, he helped tuck me in and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. My eyes were closed, but the smile that spread over my cheeks was enough of a signal that I was still awake.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

My bloodshot eyes opened at his call, and I found love staring back at me. I knew he could see my eyes bouncing back and forth as I tried to see all of it at once in his eyes, and I didn’t care. Even when he kissed me, neither of us closed them.

“We don’t have to worry about anything,” he said as our mouths broke apart. His thumb swept over my cheeks to all the places I knew he was thinking about kissing. There was a very poor attempt to hide his smile at the thought of the future, but I appreciated the effort he put in.

“When you’re ready to try to have kids, I’ll be right there with you,” he said.

It was clear that Spencer really wanted it to be a meaningful sentiment, but I was still a little bitter at his failure to laugh at my previous terrible jokes. So when I saw the opportunity, I took it swiftly and with no regrets.

“I sure hope so, or else I don’t think it’ll work,” I muttered through the side of my mouth before turning onto my back.  

Spencer’s first carefree giggle of the night was my prize, and I couldn’t have loved it any more. “That’s my little girl,” he cooed, curling up against my side and wrapping a possessive arm over my chest.

Just before my eyes fluttered shut, I saw movement below my face. I kept them open long enough to see his pinky presented to me and a knowing look in his eyes. “Everything will be alright as long as we have each other,” Spencer offered.

And despite our bad history with promises, I had no reasons left to doubt that one. 

—————————————————

| Part 21 |

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

DBD Au

The Red eyed demon is the entity and takes interest in two murderous brothers. Deciding to treat them to a nice surprise mid game.

Killers: Sal and Larry (Legion in playstyle. They have a survivor look but are the killer)

They have a bit of fun terrorizing survivors, until they spot familiar blonde hair desperately trying to hide from them, while another man is trying to throw him into their path.

Finding their mutual ex, Travis dumped them after finding out they were criminals but they were soon snatched up by the entity, made this game a lot more interesting.

Survivor Travis has a very particular perk that makes hiding much easier. Does it spawn from his abusive home life? Yes. Does it help that his father has a perk that can instantly spot him? No. These last few games Travis has had to pray that the killers don’t listen to his father, or run the entire game and hope that other survivors can get to the generators and doors.

This match is as no better, Kenneth practically glued himself to Travis and stood around him. Complaining and griping about their situation while Travis tried to work on a generator. If Kenneth would shut up, other Survivors would have stopped to work on a generator with him, but of course the tall preacher was imposing and unnecessarily chatty.

Travis has an almost breath of relief when he sees familiar faces. Hugging them and hoping they know how to work a generator. Instead the brothers hug him and just watch.

Travis doesn’t realize his mistake until the brothers knock him out and drag Kenneth to a hook. (Entity (Red) doesn’t stop them. In fact it watched curiously as the boys enjoy carrying around Travis, setting him up in a nice little room in the apartments.)

[ghoultramp]

his voice resides [hawks x reader]

▷       bnha

↳ pairing: hawks x f!reader

↳ content: injured/wingless!hawks, depression, (implied) eating disorder, (implied) suicidal ideation, angst, mutual comfort

↳ words: 3.2k

⇢ summary: “it had been three agonizing months of not knowing whether he was alive or dead, you had no one to ask; and if anyone knew anything, they certainly weren’t sharing it openly.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: my mh took a dive so i ended up writing this :’)

It had been three agonizing months of not knowing whether he was alive or dead, you had no one to ask; if anyone knew anything, they certainly weren’t sharing it openly.

You sat hunched over your laptop, squeezing your eyes shut as you rubbed hard against your temples. You weren't sure the headaches had ever gone away, just ebbed and flowed with intensity over time. Unfortunately for you, it didn't seem to be showing any sign of reprieve tonight.

You braced yourself as you admitted defeat, it was no use. You were spent. You heaved a sigh as you closed your laptop and stared at the colorful light on the lid as it entered a sleep state.

Your heart dropped as you picked up your phone, watching the screen light up; even that hadn’t got any easier, still expecting a notification from him. Tonight was testing you and you weren’t appreciative of it as you heaved your fatigued body up from the desk. You shuddered as the metal legs of the chair came in contact with the cheap wood flooring, a high-pitched screech rang a bell in every tooth.

“Oh Christ, please stop,” you whined, sidestepping as not to antagonize the chair again.

You stretched your arms above your head and this time it was a satisfied groan that left your lips as several deep popping sounds came from your spine. While it may have been a temporary release of tension, you were grateful for it all the same as you lumbered your fatigued body toward the bathroom.

Opening the door, you felt around for the light cord that hung from the ceiling. You heard its heavy weighted end knock against the tile wall when your hand brushed against it; another, unnecessarily loud—and quite frankly horrifying—sound. You felt the slight prickle of tears as the pounding inside your head chipped away at you.

You regretted your decision to pull the cord, the harsh white light of the bathroom wasn’t friendly on the best of days. You set your phone down on the wide sink basin and when you looked up at the mirrored cabinet in front of you, you found it hard to identify with the person staring back at you.

Dark half-circles that looked more akin to bruises sat under your eyes, your cheeks looked gaunt, the bright spark in your eyes had left after that day, and your once radiant, bright skin now closely resembled ash. You watched the reflection, prodding at your own cheek, fingers pressing lightly against the hollow where there once had been rosy flesh. 

You were so sure you had cried as much as anyone was humanly possible but didn't bother to fight against your blurring vision, letting the tears flow of their own accord.

Your head hurt, your body hurt, your heart hurt.

Everything hurts.

Bracing your hands on either side of the basin, you exhaled a heavy sigh; you felt your body shrink as you emptied your lungs of air.

The distinct vibration of your phone against ceramic echoed reverberated against the tiled walls; you felt worse when your jaw instinctively clenched tightly against the pain. Glancing briefly at the illumined screen, although your vision might have been blurry, the bold text that read unknown number was unmistakable. No one worth their salt would be bothering you at this time of night, most of all someone whose number you didn’t have logged.

You felt your brittle fingers grip tighter against the basin.

“Shut up,” you snarled under your breath, you liked to think it might make a difference.

When it vibrated again you felt your anger bubbling.

“What?!” you screamed as you picked it up.

You stared blankly for a moment, not entirely sure what you were reading.

╭                                                   ╮

         Meet me at our spot.

╰                                                   ╯

  ╭                                                   ╮  

         Please, trust me.

╰                                                   ╯

  You felt your lips curl in anger as your fingers trembled against the touch-screen, typing out the only reply you could think of.

  ╭                                                   ╮

        Who is this?

╰                                                   ╯

   You waited for a brief moment, you felt winded when the next message appeared in the thread.

  ╭                                                   ╮  

        Please, Songbird.

╰                                                   ╯

    This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

The result of your thoughts racing too fast was the overbearing screech of white noise. You felt the bile in your empty stomach start to burn at your esophagus, you whimpered as you lowered your frail body to the bathroom floor while the edges of your vision began to fade to black.

“Nononono,” you repeated the word in one breath as you steadied yourself on your hands and knees. Your heart felt as though it was twisting in your chest while your lungs collapsed on themselves; you sobbed as you gasped for breath.

Your body shook as you silently sobbed, choking against the rasping at your throat, the air felt thick as you lowered your head. You stopped to rest your forehead against the tile, the cooling relief was only momentary as you felt your temperature rise and your limbs vibrate with adrenaline.

You deliberated with yourself about what you might do. If it was him, maybe things could go back to normal, and if it was some sick joke… 

If this is some sick joke, maybe it’ll…

You breathed hard as you gathered the courage to finally pull yourself back up; you held a death grip around your phone as you made your way toward the front door of your apartment. The matter of turning the light off was inconsequential now.

Unhooking your keys from the hook next to your coat, ignoring it at first. You looked back at your screen and read the last message again; with another sigh, you grabbed it and pulled it around your feeble shoulders.

The heavy wood door that stared back at you suddenly felt foreboding, still unable to decipher any rational thoughts over the loud static that bounced around. And what if—

You yelped at the vibration alert. Another text. Your breath shuddered as you opened it.

   ╭                                                   ╮  

        I can’t wait here long.

        Please, make the right

        decision.

╰                                                   ╯

  It was the push you needed, shoving your phone away in your pocket and reaching out open the door. You may have had your keys but your feet only carried you toward the stairwell.  Not even after the first half-flight did you start to feel the searing heat that tore through your muscles, you cursed at yourself as you pushed against it. As you leveraged yourself against the handrail, you were thankful—for maybe the very first time—that you’d taken a top floor apartment.

You stood in front of the heavy fire escape door, the florescent green-and-white glow of the sign flickered as your hand reached for the bar that opened it. Your heart stopped upon the discovery of a brick that propped the door open; you didn’t truly want to believe someone would play such a cruel trick on you but the evidence was starting to suggest that that might just be the reality.

You were welcomed with a cold slap to the face as you breached the frigid, night air. The silence was eerie as you gently guided the door to rest against the rock, you felt unpleasantly nauseous as you surveyed the rooftop, there were too many shadows that could hide too many things. You decided against taking any steps forward, instead choosing to keep your back to the door with your fingers tightly wrapped around the outside handle.

You wanted to open your mouth, desperate to be able to say his name and for him to answer, but the dread was soul-crushing. There seemed to be nothing in the silence, the only sound you heard was your panicked breathing.

You took a deep breath, your lip trembling as you finally convinced yourself to speak. You just couldn’t bring yourself to say his name, it felt impossible in practice.

“H-hello?” your voice was nothing more than a squeak, fighting against your tight throat.

You scolded yourself for having even just a shred of hope when nothing replied. But maybe, just maybe…

You cleared your throat.

Just one more try. One more try and that’s it.

“Hello?” you called again, a bit louder but still almost as squeaky.

The distinct shuffling of feet could be heard in the shadows to your left, the scared gasp that left your lips was involuntary as your head snapped to find the source.  You gripped the handle tighter when your eyes adjusted to the silhouette of someone who was tall, and the outline of a heavy jacket was deceptive; there were no discernible features you could see.

You strained your ears, attempting to hear what the stranger was saying. You noted that the tone was masculine but the words sounded like croaking. They raised their arm, and you squinted to see them press their hand against their throat.

“Look, if this is some kind of sick--“ you were unable to finish your sentence before the figure emerged from the shadows.

You felt dizzy, sick, relieved, and wholly and completely overwhelmed as you attempted to process the sight in front of you. Your body refused to react, so desperately wanting to run at him, throw your arms around him, and yet… You released your grip on the handle to stand unaided on unsteady legs, willing yourself to take just one step.

He took another step toward you, he seemed just as unsure of himself as you when he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m…. I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked with each syllable.

He reached for his throat again, eyebrows drawing to the center as he pressed and strained against the pain that talking seemed to physically cause. You watched, helpless, as his ochre eyes developed a glassy sheen, the first sign of tears.

You took a step, closing the gap to only one short stride. You felt your own tears start to well as you examined him more closely; the majority of his visible skin pocked and tight with an almost glossy quality; the harrowing aftermath of extensive burns.

“I didn’t--” he coughed, wincing.

“No, please…” you interrupted, your hand instinctively reaching out for the arm that hung at his side.

It broke your heart when he flinched away, and as you looked into each other’s eyes, that is when you both shed the first of you shared silent tears. He seemed ashamed to look at you, now casting his gaze to the floor. His sandy unkempt hair fell to frame his face, casting shadows on the hollows of his cheeks; it was longer now, to his shoulders.

He continued to hang his head as he tentatively reached his hand out to yours, gently brushing his fingers against your own. You softly entwined your fingers with his, careful not to hurt him as you felt his damaged skin.

“Keigo,” you finally allowed yourself to say his name, choking back a sob that threatened to blurt out.

“Songbird,” he responded, barely a whisper.

You could have stood there, regardless of the cold, forever; to feel even just this small part of him against you again was enough for you. You weren’t sure how long you stood in a peaceful silence when he cleared his throat, readying himself to speak again.

“They’re gone,” he croaked, you felt his fingers tighten around yours.

“Who’s gone?” you asked, looking up at him confused. He shook his head.

When he finally looked at you, you saw the anguish in his eyes.

“No, my… my wings,” his voice was so quiet, “they’re gone.”

You had been so taken aback at the sight of him that it hadn’t even occurred to you; you felt so horrible, selfish. You watched as his face twisted as the uncontrollable sobs escaped his weak body, you welcomed his grasp as he pulled you tightly against himself.

“Let’s get you inside,” you offered, muffled against his chest.

  --- --- ---

  Keigo gently closed the door behind him while you busied yourself with your coat, carelessly laying it over the back of your small sofa. He turned to see you standing there, heart sinking when his eyes examined you closer; your lanky arms hung lifelessly at your side, your shirt—a few sizes too big—exposed the deep recesses above your clavicles.

His face twisted in discomfort as he struggled to shrug his own coat off, you stopped yourself from helping when, upon shedding his bulky outer layer, you saw just how well it had concealed his own frailty. You brought your hands to your face, stifling a gasp with a firm palm as the tears prickled painfully behind your eyes. He hung his head, holding his coat in front of him with both hands.

You were both such a mess.

Swallowing hard against your tightening throat, you reached for the coat in his hand. Despite still flinching, he allowed you to take it from him to place it next to yours.

“I just…” you shook your head, still unable to find any words.

“It’s okay,” he told you, a gentle, sigh of relief left your lungs as his warm palm cupped your cheek.

You felt his thumb gently brush away the stray tear that fell as you looked up at his soft, sad smile.

“I thought you were—“ you choked back your sobs, desperately trying to spit the words out, “I thought you were dead!”

Your efforts were futile, your knees buckled beneath your weight and your feeble shoulders shook with your overwhelming sobs. Head spinning, Keigo held your upper arms, hoping to keep you steady.

“I know it’s selfish,” you cried, “and I—“

You stumbled forward into his narrow chest, gripping his shirt for dear life as you wailed. The veil of shock had finally cracked.

You keened, thumping the bottom of your balled-up fist against his chest, pulling against his shirt with the other. You felt his hold tighten, he was shaking with his own sobs, quiet and subdued.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked as he brought a hand to rest on the back of your head.  

He gave you little room to hit him in the chest again.

“No!” you bawled, hitting his chest with your forehead instead. “I just want…” you whimpered, breathing sharply against your sobs, “It’s not…”

Keigo felt the tension leave your body as you buried your face into his chest, no longer soft and muscular. It didn’t matter as you breathed in deeply; you smiled ever so delicately, his scent the same as you remembered.

“Can we just lay down?” you asked him meekly.

Keigo tightened his arms around you ever so slightly, resting his chin gently on the top of his head. You felt him nod.

“I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he kept his voice at a whisper, the less agitation on his throat, the less likely it was to send him into a coughing fit.

“It’s fine, I…“ you began to interrupt, but the shake of his chin on your head cut you off.

“I just want to finish by saying this,” he coughed, you felt his body spasm against yours, “I’m just happy to be with you again.”

Keigo felt you gently pull against him and let his hold drop, you looked at him.

“Keigo?” you asked, holding out your hand.

There was no hesitation as he enthusiastically placed his palm in yours. You didn’t say a thing as you turn around, heading toward a door at the far end of your apartment. You felt his hand tighten around yours when you entered.

You released his hand as you made your way across to the bed, all you wanted was warmth and comfort; the streetlights beyond the window cast alternating orange and shadow stripes across the wall and bed through open blinds.

Keigo watched from the door as you moved clambered on top of the bed, curling into a ball. He accepted your invitation when you patted the space next to you. The mattress barely shifted when he sat down on the edge of the bed; he leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together.

Feeling him shudder, you tilted your head to look up at him; bolting upright when he began to wince. Instinctively, you put your arm around his shoulder; you yelped and threw yourself back when he howled at your touch. He bought his hands to cover his face, shaking his head, trying to silence himself.

“I’m sorry, I—“ you whimpered, tentatively inching back to his side. “What’s wrong?”

When he eventually turned to face you, bringing his legs up onto the bed, his eyes were red and puffy; much like your own, you supposed. You watched the way the light and shadow settled across his face; orange stripes illuminated his golden eyes and his lips, his nose concealed in shadow. You watched his lips twitch while he searched for his words.

“I can still, um,” he tried to compose himself against his ragged breathing and looming coughing fit, “I can still feel them and, um—”

His mouth drew to a thin line, trying his hardest not to have another outburst. He struggled as his eyebrows pulled to the center of his brow and his lip began to quiver, despite being under so much tension.

You rose up on your knees, shuffling the closing divide between you, and pulled him into your bosom; he clawed at your back gently, desperate for your comfort as he nestled against you. You brought one hand to rest gingerly above his shoulder blades, cautious not to trigger a response, and lay your other hand on his head.

“Hold on,” you told him faintly, slowly releasing your hold; Keigo was reluctant to let go. “This is uncomfortable,” you told him truthfully, shifting your knees; he let go.

He studied you as you lowered yourself down, shuffling back on the bed. His approach was slow and awkward on his weakened limbs, crawling into the space next to you. You interlocked with each other without hesitation, Keigo was quick to pull you close to him.

“I’ve missed this,” you told him, adamant you weren’t going to cry again as you felt another prickle at your nose and eyes, “I’ve missed you.”

Keigo brought a hand under your chin, lifting your head to meet his. His palm was warm as he brought it up to cup your cheek, he smiled softly as he watched close your eyes and nuzzle against his hand; you placed your own hand against his, holding it there.

“Let’s just stay here forever,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your forehead, his thumb rubbed gently against your cheek.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a distracted whisper, enjoying the sensation of his warmth next to you, touching you—at last.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as he planted another gentle kiss against your temple, another high on your cheek.  He leaned his forehead against yours, your noses touching.

“Forever, Songbird,” he promised you before pressing his lips to yours.  

[sierraraeck]

Bad Liar

Moreid (Spencer x Derek)

Masterlist

Summary: Ever since his first day at Quantico, Spencer has had only one thought on his mind: SSA Derek Morgan. He knows that any sort of relationship would be inappropriate, but that doesn’t stop the constant stream of fantasies from flooding his mind.

Category: Spicy fluff, smut alluded

Warnings: Non-graphic descriptions of sex, fantasizing, suggestive touching, kissing, very light cussing.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This was inspired by the song “Bad Liar” by Selena Gomez. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. I know that I haven’t been very active and haven’t posted anything in a while, but sometimes life just happens. Hopefully this was worth the wait…

Spencer had heard the phrase “I never stop thinking about you.” He’d heard it in reference to love and relationships when people were apparently so madly in love they couldn’t stop thinking about the other. He never really bought that. Love was just a bunch of feel-good chemicals that couldn’t affect the amount of time spent thinking about another person. Plus, how could anyone ever constantly think about a person? There were so many other things to think about like surviving high school, getting into college, graduating, of course his mom, and then getting into the FBI, and how he would surely not be able to make it all the way through Quantico training. No one could ever think about one person all the time. No, definitely not.

But Spencer wasn’t known for being a good liar.

His first day at Quantico he saw Derek Morgan, and he realized that he was wrong. He was so utterly and outrageously wrong.

Because after he saw him, heard his voice just once, his exceptional mind kept those interactions on constant repeat.

He was lucky he was so good at multitasking otherwise he would have definitely failed by now.

Not like he still wouldn’t.

He couldn’t sleep, not with someone like Derek Morgan intruding his every thought, every midnight desire. On top of that, they were about to go into the hardest week of physical training yet, and Spencer knew that this was the one challenge that his brain could not overcome.

The one redeemable thing about the humiliating experience he was sure would come during the following days was that he’d get to see SSA Morgan again. Sure, it'd be more embarrassing to fail in front of him, but at least he’d get to see him a few more times before they kicked him out for being the scrawny kid he’s always been.

The feelings of excitement and anxiety twisted his gut into a wonderful knot, keeping him from yet another night of sleep. Somehow that made it both harder and easier for him to get up when the clock hit 4:45.

Spencer looked between two blinds covering the window on the right, allowing him to see that the sun was still about an hour from rising. Slipping on his given shirt and pants, he hoped that there would be some source of caffeine at breakfast, preferably coffee.

He trudged into the bathroom to find his roommate already awake and dressed. “Big day. You excited?” Jeff, a man about a head shorter than Spencer but at least twice his width in pure muscle mass, asked.

Spencer just grunted in response.

“What? You’re not excited to get pitted against someone else so that you can flail around in an attempt to spar?”

“I’ll stick to teaching you the technique,” he quipped.

Jeff laughed. “It’d suit you better. Unfortunately your wizard brain and forbidden library won’t help you in this one. But dammit if you aren’t the smartest guy here.” Jeff shook his head as if it were a shame.

Once they were ready, along with the rest of the NATs, the group was directed to jog across campus to the building they’d be training in. The day was off to a bad start.

Spencer did his best to distract himself from the actual running bit, trying to analyze the people in his group and those they passed as they went.

Bored, hungry, important, invisible… Derek?!

He turned his head to follow the tall man with short black hair and dark eyes as the group passed him on the sidewalk.

No, that wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. Agent Morgan is waiting for us at the facility.

Spencer tried to hide the slight disappointment that came over him. He felt so stupid for looking for him everywhere, but he couldn’t help it. Even his own knowledge and logic was failing him when it came to this man he knew next to nothing about expect for his shining smile and intense eyes and toned biceps and amazing abs and powerful legs and delicious stamina and strong hands that could grip his neck and hold him down and his defined hips bones that Spencer knew would dig into his thighs and certainly leave bruises if he were to…

What was his issue? He couldn’t be thinking that way about one of his trainors.

Although it helped the jog pass by faster. Time flies when you’re having fun, right? Or at least imagining having fun.

When they arrived at the other facility, they were provided a quick breakfast, unfortunately no coffee today, and then led to the top floor with an entire wall traded out for floor to ceiling windows.

The room they entered was massive, large mats rolled out edge to edge, and the smell was musty. It felt humid, sticky sort of, and Spencer hated to think about why that was.

He quickly scanned the room and found his target immediately. Across the way, Derek had his opponent mid flip, landing harshly on his back with a thud. He helped the poor guy up, laughing a bit as he did so. His pearly whites were on full display when he looked up and caught Spencer’s eye. Spencer quickly diverted his gaze, opting instead to look down at his twisting hands.

“Today we will be focusing on hand to hand combat,” Derek announced once the group had wandered closer. “You never know when the perpetrator will decide not to run and instead to attack you, or when you will find yourself without any weapons other than yourself to protect you. The first thing we are going to practice are some basic jabs. Grab a partner and follow our demonstration.”

Derek and the man he’d thrown on the ground earlier, Grant, demonstrated the seemingly simple movements that Spencer and the rest of the NATs were supposed to replicate. Of course, everyone else made it look easy, but Spencer just couldn’t wrap his head around what his arm was supposed to be doing where and when. It was frustrating, even more so than he’d prepared himself for.

“Keep your shoulders here,” that velvety deep voice said, accompanied by his large hands on either of Spencer’s shoulders, adjusting them to more of an angle.

All Spencer could do was swallow hard and nod. He didn’t even dare to look back at him.

“And spread your legs,” Derek said. His breath seemed to get closer to Spencer’s neck with every word, and quieter as he went along. But surely that was all in his head? Right?

Spencer’s startled eyes turned to look at the older man. The edges of his mouth twitched before resuming that stern, professional demeanour. “It’ll help you balance.” With that, he nudged Spencer’s foot farther backwards with his own and walked away, leaving Spencer feeling unnecessarily exposed and confused.

The guy across from him, Harold, one of the only people who had been genuinely nice to Spencer from the start, was watching the whole interaction with suspicion.

The day trudged on with not much change. Spencer’s skin was still on fire from where Agent Morgan had touched him, but he tried to convince himself it was because he didn’t really like being touched. He knew that was a lie, especially in this instance, but it didn’t stop him from telling it.

After lunch, training continued. But at least it got more interesting.

“Grant just got called out on a case, so I’ll be needing someone to help me with this demonstration.” Derek waited just about three whole seconds before smirking, the mischief written all over his face. “Come on? No one wants to volunteer? It’ll be fun, I promise.” When he was met with more silence (even the guys like Jeff didn’t want to be thrown around by Derek), he was forced to choose someone. “How about… Reid.”

Spencer’s head shot up from the back of the group. No, no, this is not good.

Spencer had been dreaming about getting thrown around by Derek for a few months now, but this was definitely not what he’d had in mind.

The crowd slowly parted and Spencer had to face the music; he was going to be humiliated in front of everyone, like nothing had changed since high school.

Sighing, Spencer forced himself to the front of the group. “Lay down for me, knees bent, would you?”

I’d do anything you asked, was Spencer’s initial response in his head. What he really did was shrug and follow instructions.

“The reason we practice this move is because at some point or another, you will find yourself in either position.” Spencer wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that until Derek legitimately stood over him, a leg on either side, then proceeded to get down on his knees, essentially sitting on top of Spencer.

He couldn’t even focus on what Derek was explaining anymore. Breathing didn’t exist. There was no way this glorious man was sitting on top of him right now. All he could think about was how prominent Derek’s ab muscles were through his tight shirt and how he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and run his tongue over them. Spencer could almost imagine what they would feel like; the rise and fall of his muscles, the small hairs covering his body… Spread your legs, he had said to him.

“So then Reid would grab my wrist…” Derek’s use of his name brought him back to reality. If only he could live in his fantasies for longer.

Spencer looked up at Agent Morgan confused. Derek’s eyes got wider and looked at his right hand and then down at his own left wrist. Spencer somehow got the message and reached his hand over to grab a hold of Derek’s wrist. “Good,” he declared. “After that, he would hook his left foot on the outside of my ankle.”

Spencer quickly followed orders, trying to force his brain to supply him with the information he’d missed.

“Then, he’d use my weight against me to flip me over.” Spencer’s eyes got big when Derek said that, mentally panicking that he could never be strong enough for that. Derek nodded at him, so Spencer tried to roll over, and to his, and everyone else’s, surprise, he actually could.

Within seconds Spencer was sitting on top of a very pleased Derek. “It’ll work every time. Of course, if your unsub is skilled he’ll lock you in and flip you back over and potentially pull your arm out of your socket,” Derek explained while doing just that to Spencer, minus the arm-out-of-socket thing, “But we’ll take this one step at a time.”

Derek was back on top of Spencer with his legs wrapped around him in a vice-like grip, but quickly let go to help him up. Spencer gladly accepted the help.

Spencer doesn’t exactly have what one would consider a “big dick.” He always thought that was something to be ashamed of but standing there, getting hard in the middle of an FBI training academy, he couldn’t’ve be more grateful.

The NATs were sent back to work on the newly demonstrated move with their partners. Just as Spencer was about to flip Harold over for the third time, he looked over his head and rolled his eyes.

“What?” Spencer asked.

“What is it with you two?” Harold asked in return.

“What?” Spencer repeated. Harold nodded in the direction he was just looking, and Spencer followed his gaze. Derek was walking by, but nothing else seemed of import. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh please,” Harold snorted. He was a lanky man like Spencer, but just a bit shorter and with glasses. Sometimes Spencer envied his glasses, as his contacts often got on his nerves. He continued, “The touching, the constant eye contact, the word choice that could be inherently sexual, and then literally sitting on top of you? When there were plenty of other men and women he could have picked for that demonstration? Tell me you don’t see it.”

Spencer mulled over these words for a few seconds before flipping Harold over. Looking down on him, he said, “I don’t think that means anything.”

“Then maybe you need to get a new prescription,” Harold said, pointing to his eyes.

Spencer shook his head. “What do my eyes have to do with this?”

Harold sighed. “God, your gaydar is so broken.” He flipped Spencer over, stood up, and walked away.

Shortly after, class was called and they were all let go for the remainder of the evening.

“Reid, can I speak to you for a moment?” Agent Morgan called out as the first of the NATs started to leave. A few caught Spencer’s eye with unanswered questions in them, but no more than the mound of questions Spencer had been asking himself.

Without answering, Spencer walked over to the corner of the room that Derek was standing in. He could tell that he was waiting for every single person to leave the room before speaking.

Spencer thought for sure he was getting kicked out because of how horribly he performed throughout the day.

To his surprise, that’s not at all what the outstandingly attractive man had to say. “I wanted to let you know that you did a good job today during the demo. Not many people handle that so well.”

Spencer waited for him to say more, but nothing more seemed to be coming. Derek actually seemed a bit nervous if Spencer could read him right. He replied cautiously, “Thanks.”

Derek cleared his voice and said, “Yeah. And if you ever want to stay late and work on some moves I’d be happy to help.”

Spencer just got more and more confused as his interactions with this god-like man increased. “Thanks,” he repeated. “Why are you offering to help me like that?”

Agent Morgan shrugged. “You’re one of the smartest people in FBI history to come through here, and definitely the youngest. There’s absolutely no reason you shouldn’t become an agent, and I want to see you succeed. That’s all.” He shrugged again, and if there was anything Spencer had learned from the profiling section of his training, someone being over-casual was usually a sign that they were stressed about something they viewed with extreme importance, and were trying to play it off. Why would he be stressed to talk to me?

“I guess I’ll take you up on that offer. Will you be here tomorrow?” Spencer asked, trying to mask the hope in his voice. Who was he kidding; Derek was already one of the top profilers in the Bureau.

“I will be. You can plan to stay after then.”

Spencer nodded and walked away, but not before glancing back one more time. Harold was right; they did make a lot of eye contact.

The next day couldn’t go by faster. Spencer had spent practically the entire night thinking about everything that had happened, trying to figure out if Harold was right or not. There was no way. Spencer was just Spencer, a NAT, and Derek Morgan was, well… Derek Morgan.

He probably just thought that Spencer was a hopeless case and needed extra help. Yeah, that was it. It had to be.

When the day was over, Spencer wasn’t just relieved like he usually was, but he was excited too. It no longer mattered to him what the reason was for him being there late, he just wanted to spend more time in the presence of SSA Morgan.

“I was thinking I’d help you with that second move we learned today, the cross-punch jab combo,” Derek announced. His voice echoed just a bit off the walls of the training center now that it was completely abandoned.

He walked over to one of the punching bags lined up just a few feet from the wall, and Spencer followed him in a manner that could only be described as a lost puppy. Spencer could keep track of all sorts of numbers, but the sheer amount of repeating memories morphing into new thoughts morphing into full blown fantasies was even too high for him to count. He’d never known of a drug so powerful.

“I’ll show you the move again, then I want you to try and copy it.” Derek stepped closer to the bag and executed a textbook one-two combo, the muscles in his arms and back contracting in perfect unison. God, Spencer wanted so badly to just reach out and run his hands all over this pristinely sculpted man, but he denied himself, letting his hands tremble in place instead.

Spencer stepped up to the bag next to Derek’s and attempted to do the same thing. Derek watched with a sharp eye.

After a few reps, the skilled agent took long strides that landed him only inches away from the younger man’s back. “Keep tension here.” His hands engulfed Spencer’s waist and twisted them to the side with the ease of swatting a fly.

The feeling was so overwhelming Spencer thought he might never be able to move again, and honestly, he didn’t want to. Standing there in the grip of that man was really all he’d been wanting for months now.

The only thing that pulled him out of his trance was the way Derek’s fingers lingered as he walked around to Spencer’s front, drifting down far enough to send a clear message, one that even Spencer couldn’t miss, but not far enough to be completely intrusive.

But Spencer wanted intrusive. He wanted nothing more than for Derek Morgan to invade his personal space to the point of no return.

He looked at the older man with shock and a burning question, but didn’t flinch or move back. Derek simply bit his lip and scanned Spencer up and down at what felt like a snail’s pace. He felt like a helpless deer being sized up by a lion for his next meal.

Spencer swallowed hard.

He’d been wanting nothing more than to be in this very same situation, or one of the multitudes of variations he’d created in his mind, but now that it was here could he really go through with it? Was it really the best idea? Did he really want this? No, he couldn’t.

But Spencer wasn’t known for being a good liar.

The only signal Derek needed was the simple nod of Spencer’s head.

And he got it.

Like a snake ready to strike, Derek brought his lips to Spencer’s in an instant. His questioning fingers had an answer, returning to their strong hold over Spencer’s hip bones.

Spencer knew what was happening was completely inappropriate, but couldn’t find the will to care. The man he’d been dreaming about, spending every waking and non-waking moment obsessing over, was actually interested in him too.

All his fantasies were flashing before his eyes, Derek’s muscles now completely exposed to him. He frantically pawed at him, trying to feel and memorize every millimeter of the beautiful body before him, like every inch was another drop of water in his achingly dry mouth.

“Hey, hey,” Derek whispered. “Patience. Not everything can happen at once, remember, one step at a time.”

Spencer took a moment to breathe and look into the warm eyes he’d been drowning in. Only for a moment, though, as he had a lot he wanted to do, starting with kissing his way down this man’s chest.

Derek laughed a little at Spencer’s impatience when he placed his hands on his broad shoulders and lips on his burning hot skin. He didn’t mind, though. Unexpectedly, the young man knew how to use his mouth. He couldn’t wait to explore that particular skill set some more.

Within the next few minutes, bodies were slammed into walls, forced to the ground, and pushed further down into the floor than was previously thought possible. The echo of the room only amplified the intoxicating sounds and the wall of windows overlooking the campus only increased the arousal.

Spencer would have a new appreciation for the musty smell and sweat induced humidity in the room from now on.

The tension for the remaining month before the NATs graduated was unbearable. Harold made sure to point out the nauseating amount of glances passed between the two men, but was respectful enough to not point it out to everyone. He tried to deny anything had happened, but Harold wasn’t having any of it and let Spencer know he was a lousy liar, something he definitely needed to work on.

Come graduation day when all NATs would be receiving their department assignments, Derek made sure to personally hand Spencer his.

He carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper with one bolded line reading: “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Spencer immediately looked up and locked eyes with Derek. He simply smirked in return.

Maybe his fantasy of having something more with the agent would become a reality after all.

-

Taglist

@90spumkin

[galaxysessions]

You two are dancing in a snow globe round & round / and he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown…

Amanda looked at her reflection in the cloudy mirror hanging from the interior of her locker door. The pads of her fingers swiped expertly beneath blue eyes, hoping to catch any mascara that had strayed through out her day. She fluffed the hair at the crown of her head, wanting to bring life back to her blonde waves, and in a brief moment of psychosis she contemplated running to Duane Reade to purchase a spray or even a hot tool that could save her. Amanda let out an audible groan - at the horrifying fact that she was becoming her mother, at her disappointment in her subpar hair - and slammed her locker door shut. At least the outfit she had tossed together after her shift was cute: dark jeans and a black top with fluttering sleeves that was just sheer enough to hint at what was underneath. 

She was due at One Hogan Place in 20 minutes.

Sonny had insisted that he owed her dinner. How many dinners had he made for her and the girls? Hundreds, it felt like. How many times had they sat around at bars together after cases? Too many to count. How many empty take-out boxes had they shared? A lifetime’s worth. But this, this was different.

This was a date.

Familiar with the DA’s office, Amanda hoped she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew there. She didn’t want to answer questions about why she was hanging out so late and she was too nervous for small talk. Most of all she didn’t want to have to lie, not tonight. Keeping her head down, she flitted up staircases and down hallways until she was in front of Sonny’s office. She pulled in a deep breath, reminded herself that this man had seen her at her very worst, so her flat hair wouldn’t be the end of the world, then gently knocked on the door. It was cracked open, so she waited a beat before she slipped inside.

Sonny was sitting at his desk, leaned over some paperwork. For the brief moment she was able to, she admired the stretch of his shoulders. When he heard her enter, he looked up. The smile that immediately tugged at his mouth when he met her eyes made Amanda’s heart squeeze in her chest out of overwhelming adoration. “Hi,” she exhaled, somehow both more and less anxious at the sight of him. 

“‘Manda, hey,” Sonny greeted her. He stood up and waved her further into his office, coming out from behind his desk. “Come in, come in.”

“You still working?”

He heaved a sigh, returning a file to its rightful cabinet before turning back to her. “It never ends.”

She perched herself on the edge of his desk as she so often did, setting her purse down on the surface beside her. “Hey, c’mere,” she said when she noticed something: his tie was crooked, collar rumpled, his hair out of place. He had probably had a long day. She reached out a hand to him, nose scrunched as she smiled. “Your tie, you… well, like my grandma used to tell me and Kim after a long day of school, when we’d come home all roughed up: ‘you look like you’ve been shot out of a cannon.’”

Another grin broke across his face as he took a step forward, then stood in front of her, still, obedient. Amanda could feel his warm gaze looking down at her while her manicured fingers reached up to adjust the knot of his tie. “Well, you look beautiful.”

She knew her cheeks were turning pink; God, she hated that. What happened to her poker face? Her eyes flickered up to meet his as her hands drifted up toward his collar. Then she was smiling like a lovestruck teenager, as if no man had ever complimented her before this exact moment. Maybe she just needed to hear it from the right one. “Thanks,” she murmured as she smoothed the fabric of his shirt. She didn’t try to fix his hair - she liked the little strand that had escaped its style.

Sonny was standing so close to her that his legs bumped hers, silently asking her to make room for him. So she did: she parted her knees so she could playfully trap him, lower limbs snaking around his tall figure until her feet hooked loosely around the other side. A huff of laughter escaped Sonny as she felt his warm palms slide up the sides of her thighs to find her waist. Through the thin fabric of her shirt she could feel his thumbs moving back and forth, back and forth, and Amanda suddenly no longer cared about their dinner reservations.

Amanda carefully set the heels of her palms back on the edge of the desk, fingertips dangling. Collarbone prominently displayed, she gave her head a languid shake to move her hair away from her face. She gazed up at Sonny, still caught between her legs, playing against her side. Anticipation was beginning to simmer in the pit of her stomach. “Anything else I can help you with, Counselor?” 

Desire had darkened Sonny’s features and now he appeared mischievous as his eyes flickered over her thighs, her chest, her mouth. “Ah…” he started to answer her, but then he leaned in and kissed her instead of completing his thought. There was nothing gentle or cautious about the way his lips found hers: it stole the air from her lungs and his mouth felt searing hot. Her hands lifted from the desk, one cradling his elbow, another reaching up to his jaw. She loved the prickly feeling of newly formed stubble on his face, a sharp contrast to the softness of his tongue. The long line of his body angled itself closer to hers, and as she leaned back, she felt him let out a rough exhale at the way their forms aligned. 

Amanda had sworn to herself that she would not fuck this up - whatever this was that she was doing with Sonny - by having sex with him too soon, but in that moment she was so dizzy with want that his incredibly nerdy desk blotter was looking hotter and hotter. The hand at his elbow dropped blindly to the shiny metal of his belt buckle. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she couldn’t help but toy with it even though she knew it was a bad idea for more than one reason.

“‘Manda…” Sonny growled her name against her mouth, half in a warning, half in encouragement. One of his hands had wandered up the front of her shirt to ghost over her breast, so whatever he was trying to get her to stop doing, he had rendered his own message ineffective. 

“I won’t,” she breathed against his lips insincerely, fingertips trailing down the line of his fly, teasing, testing, “we won’t…” 

“Mr. Carisi, sorry I’m so late. I’ve got those -“ The voice of a young girl accompanied by the office door swinging open broke them both violently from their heated reveries. They separated from one another like they had been electrocuted: Sonny launched himself backward into his file cabinet, appearing to slam his funny bone in the process. Amanda scrambled off of the desk and on to her two feet, loose paperwork flying, hastily wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand as she stood at attention. The girl looked to be in her early twenties, with unruly curly hair wearing an ill-fitting sweater, but most importantly her eyes were wide in complete confusion. A large manila folder hung from her fingers.

“Lindsey!” Sonny yelped, carding his fingers through his hair. “Lindsey, hi. Hey. I just, you can put those on my desk,” he went on, pointing to the space he and Amanda were just occupying. “Thank you.”

Lindsey cautiously, wordlessly, placed the folder where she was told, then stepped back toward the doorway.

“This is, uh… do you know Rollins? Amanda? Detective Rollins?” Sonny asked Lindsey awkwardly, unnecessarily. His eyes shifted over to Amanda as he explained, “Lindsey is a law school intern here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Amanda offered, arms crossed over her chest to indicate that she was not interested in prolonging this painful interaction.

“Nice to meet you,” the student echoed, tone hollow. Turning away from them both, she let her hand linger on the door handle as she asked, “should I close this?”

“Yeah, please,” Sonny mumbled before his intern disappeared into the hallway.

Alone again in the office, Amanda raised both of her eyebrows and shot him a pointed look.  “Real smooth, Carisi.” Her heart was still pounding against her ribcage, partly because they were almost caught, partly because she didn’t know how Sonny was going to handle something like this. He was so nervous about keeping secrets, whereas Amanda felt like her life had been a series of little untruths for as long as she could remember. She kept her arms crossed like she was protecting herself.

Sonny leaned back against the file cabinet as if he was deflating. After what seemed like forever, he let out an exhale, then reached out a hand to her. “So… how about that dinner?”

note - idk just a lil one shot xoxox

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥Pain... Love It🔥

A/N: What’s this? Wolfy didn’t write a 20 page mess of word vomit? Yeah, I finally did it and wrote a short fic! It’s only about 1.4k words! I got this idea from HTTYD with the relationship between Astrid & Hiccup when they first start to fall in love so if you see some similarities in there, that is where my inspiration from this fic came from (hence the title)! This fic is also my first fic that is gender neutral! I figured I ought to try something new for this blog and I want more people to feel included! I am more than willing to do this again or write for male readers if that’s what you guys want, just let me know and I’ll make it happen! I hope you enjoy this quick one shot!

🐉 Song Recommendation: “Astrid Goes For a Spin” By: John Powell 🐉

~~~

(Y/N) propped their palms on the ground, their eyes blazing with anger and hurt as they pushed themselves out of the dirt and stood, once again repositioning themselves into a fighting stance as they turned to face their opponent. Levi continued to watch them, just as he had been doing for the past couple hours, with a bored look on his face, his fists raised and his eyes dark with fury. He looked as if he were fighting an enemy, his scowl fierce and his knuckles split from the hours of sparring the two had been doing ever since they returned from the expedition.

(Y/N) felt their legs shake, but they forced themselves to stand their ground. They were exhausted, sweaty, and emotionally drained, but they refused to crumble before their captain, who had deemed it necessary to beat them into the ground upon returning to the walls. They knew they had fucked up, knew they had disobeyed his orders and gone rogue, but they had only done it to save his life. They had expected him to be annoyed but thankful, at least feeling an inkling of gratitude for rescuing him. They had realized when he had approached them with a dark scowl on his face just how much they had underestimated the captain’s reaction.

But what were they supposed to do? Stand by and watch him die? They knew he was Humanity’s Strongest Soldier for a reason but even he wasn’t invincible. The panic they had felt when they had glanced over and seen him latched in the grasp of a huge abnormal, his gear broken and his leg injured, was indescribable, and they had acted without thinking. They had heard their fellow soldiers shouting at them to stop, they had heard the commander yell their name, but they had ignored all of them, their senses overwhelmed with thoughts of Levi and how to get him to safety. They had killed the abnormal titan with some difficulty, the beast proving to be smarter than they originally pegged it for, but they had eventually cut it down, swooping in to grab Levi and bring him back to the group. They hadn’t expected any kind of reward or gratitude, they weren't pining for attention, they had just wanted to save their comrade. But his reaction towards them had been harsh and confusing, their brain fraying slightly as it tried to make sense of everything. Maybe he was just embarrassed that one of his cadets had had to save him on a mission?

(Y/N) didn’t know, but whatever it was, they found they didn’t care. Nothing would make them regret their decision to save his life. Levi was special, important, not just to humanity, but to them as well. (Y/N) would die before they admitted it, but they would be lying if their choice to save him hadn’t also been influenced by their love of the surly raven. 

Standing tall, (Y/N) shoved down the rush of pain and soreness that washed over their body and raised their fists higher, their eyes sparkling as they faced Levi, challenging him. They watched his eyes darken even more, watched as they narrowed and swirled with anger unlike anything they had ever seen before. It made their confidence falter slightly, as if they were facing the eyes of death, but they swallowed their fear and forced themselves to concentrate. No matter how upset he was, they knew he wouldn’t hurt them beyond repair, nor would he kill them. (Y/N) would take whatever he had to offer with their head up high, show him that no matter what he did, they would not apologize for risking themselves to save him.

Levi moved before they could blink, his movements so quick they barely had time to block. (Y/N) flew back but managed to stay on their feet, their muscles screaming in protest as they rotated on the spot, a kick aimed for his head. Levi darted to the side and grabbed ahold of their leg before it could hit the ground, using the newfound leverage to yank them off their feet, their back slamming into the dirt for at least the tenth time.

“That is for disobeying orders,” Levi growled through gritted teeth, his eyes swimming with icy fire.

(Y/N) pushed themselves back to their feet but they were on the ground again before they had even risen back up to their full height, the weight of his boot coming to rest painfully on their chest as they coughed for air.

“That is for being a reckless idiot.”

(Y/N) bared their teeth and shoved his foot from their chest, coughing the dust from their lungs as they stumbled back into a standing position. Levi’s right hook came at them like a bullet and they just barely had time to raise their arm in a block before it connected with their forearm, the spot aching with what they already knew would be a nasty bruise later.

“That is for unnecessarily putting your own life at risk,” Levi snarled, his voice cracking slightly.

(Y/N) loosed an animalistic growl and launched at him, the propulsion sending them right into his arms as their strategic mind left them entirely, their entire system focused on knocking him to the ground for once. Levi stumbled back from the impact but managed to pull himself together before he was sent into the dirt and spun them around, pinning (Y/N) to a nearby tree that they hadn’t even known was there.

His arm kept them pinned to the trunk, his body leaning against theirs to keep them from writhing out of his grip. He was so close, his warm breath fanning out over their face as he leaned in to place his lips near their ear. They tried to hide them, but they knew he could feel the shivers that skittered down their spine when his soft lips brushed against their skin.

“That is for scaring me to death,” Levi whispered, making (Y/N) lean back to look him in the eyes, confusion swirling in their (e/c) gaze.

Suddenly, Levi grabbed their collar and yanked them forward, smashing his lips to theirs and swallowing the muffled squeak they released into his mouth. The kiss was demanding but sweet, firm but passionate, telling them it was their choice. They could either kiss him back or move away from him, but they had to move. The shock finally faded a bit as his mouth moved against theirs, and they closed their eyes, their arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring him closer.

Levi groaned and lapped at their lips, a shiver spidering through his body when they opened their mouth without hesitation, wrapping their tongue around his and lapping at the roof of his mouth. Levi slipped his own tongue between their lips and danced with theirs, crushing them against the tree with a panting gasp as he finally indulged himself in the fantasy he’d had for years. The  pair only parted when the need for oxygen  became too great, both of them red-faced and breathless as they fought to wrap their heads around what had just happened.

“That,” Levi panted softly, “is for saving my life.”

Just as soon as he had come, Levi disappeared, pushing away from them and shaking his head, as if still trying to get a hold of himself. His eyes wandered over their form one last time, taking them in unashamedly, before allowing his  expressionless mask to slip back into place, turning on his heel to head back to headquarters.

(Y/N) touched their lips, their chest still heaving with excitement and shock, the warmth of  his lips on theirs seeping into their fingertips. It was surely the last thing they had expected to come from this interaction with their captain, but who were they to complain? They winced a little as they pushed off of the tree trunk to find the nearest shower, and made a mental note to rip into him later for nearly breaking their body before kissing them.

Despite themselves, a smile played on their lips the entire walk to their room, their eyes bright as they thought about everything that had happened. They knew they were going to have to talk, have to figure out what was going on between them and what they were going to do to move forward, especially on future expeditions, but if it meant (Y/N) got the chance to love him without fear of judgement or rejection, then they were ready for whatever the world wanted to throw at them.

[honestsycrets]

The Phantom I: Think of Me | Ubbe x Reader x Ivar

❛ pairing | ivar x reader x ubbe

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | you're used to a life with the phantom. his company feels like home.

❛ tags | slight violence, phantom of the opera au, love triangles, original characters.

❛ sy’s notes | this piece has been a long time coming. each chapter will be named according to soundtrack pieces. the introductory scene is probably reminiscent of the movie, i really want to recreate those feelings for me. @alicedopey

The Opera was loud today. Usually, the flutter of shoes downstairs, the rush to change costume, or the giggles from flirtatious girls was typical. Sigurd would lower backdrops as beautiful ballerinas crossed him, dreaming of life not as the keeper of backstage: but as a musician. He loved the dancing girls. You rushed down the stairs to the bottom floor and binding it with soft ribbons passing rich crimson curtains of the stage. Madame Gunnhild reprimanded you for your heavy steps, reminding you that this was not folk music. This was ballet. Powerful, yes. But not unnecessarily loud.

The only loud one was the star whose voice rattled the stage. Her presence incited the glamour of a fat cat. Not that she was plump; perhaps she would be happier, rather than hungrily scrounging and screaming and howling for more and more. Signora Stella was insatiable.

“It’s because someone is coming for tonight’s gala. She wants to make sure he knows who she is. Didn’t you hear?” Adeline whispered. “Bjorn sold the Opera.”

“Is that really true?” The dancers convened on the stage for a final run-through of the opera Hannibal. For which your pink gossamer silk slave piece so appropriately draped off your hips while she stood donned in gold and red, strutting around the stage.

“It’s not FAIR!” Her eye was squarely upon manager Halfdan. His soft eyebrows bundled together as she berated him with her latest complaint. At his side, his brother stood with his hand settled nicely into the taupe pocket of his slacks. You recognized them. Bjorn brought them in the deep quiet of dance rehearsals. Harald especially loved the dancers. He loved to watch them spin along the stage like a top.

“Signora,” Halfdan’s sweet voice consoled. You rushed around her stony body, her beautiful blonde hair wrought in delicate curls. “La mia Stella,” he crooned. There was a softness to the way his dirty blonde hair framed his gentle eyes.

“I am the star, me! Me, me, me!” her foot cracked down on the hardwood floor. She gestured toward your ruddy-haired friend, then you, biting out her complaint. “Not one of these-- these dancing girls can sing like I!”

“We know, Signora.”

“Then who dressed-- them?”

Harald crossed his arms over one another, glancing toward his boots. It could never just be the voice. It was an experience. For a man like Harald, whose artistic expression was about in line with that of a straw doll, it meant costume.

“You will be the focus. We will give you a solo. Just for you!”

“A new song?” she turned, the wheels of her brain suddenly spinning again. She ran her ringed hand down Halfdan’s pressed deep blue suit, drawing her ruby nails up to tap him on the nose. “What kind of song?”

“Think of Me,” said Harald.

“Think of Me!” she squawked. “That is perfect. Perfect for a girl like me! Can you imagine me-- a childhood lover-- in Paris?”

No, you couldn’t. Even Paris was too muted for her taste.

“Well?” she looked toward your group. “Get off my stage. Especially you,” she pointed her finger between Adeline and you. You’re not sure who she’s talking about. “Fat little frog.”

It’s better not to push. You take Adeline in one hand and, with the other, the sheer fabric. The orchestra wretched alive again as the awful vocalizations filled the auditorium, reverberating your ear. Think of Me never sounded worse.

Still, it must be nice, you think, to be an opera star by virtue of birth. Sour with embarrassment but saved by the prospect of dance, you delighted in knowing that Stella would soon leave after her songs were sung to a T. A woosh of air hair threw your hair over your shoulders. It was compounded by her harsh scream and filling the auditorium. You glanced from the floor to the upper stage where, if you looked closely, you might have seen a shadow flitting across the bridge with the aid of the banister.

“Up up up up! Get me OUT FROM UNDER HERE!”

“Sigurd!” Halfdan boomed. “What are you doing up there!?”

“I wasn’t up there.”

Your fingers left your locket when Sigurd hiked up the stairs beside you. His dark trousers were stained with paint, as was his crisp white dress shirt, pulled apart with a pretty blue smear across his chest. You peered over Sigurd to see the black drop clattered over Stella’s back, pressing her chest to the ground and chin quivering in horror.

“So it fell on its own?” Harald accused belligerently.

“I never said that. Signora. The Opera is full of strange magic.” he stood upright, helping her stand on quivering heels, shouting in awful pain. He quirked his head. “Oh, she won’t be able to perform on that.”

She jabs her finger into Harald’s chest, deliberately on his fine silk tie. Then Halfdan, whirling a curse. Stella squealed with renewed vigor. “You see what you’ve done! I hate you! I hate you! And I hate this-- this phantom!”

“Not that again,” Harald rolled his eyes.

The light in her eyes burst, soaring through the surface like an explosion across the surface. How awfully she punched him, shouting about his indignation in not paying the Phantom his salary-- before flitting down the steps on a beating heel. She would be back. Maybe not today, but another. Sigurd dragged the fallen backdrop to the side, inspecting the thick-cut rope and all its seeming imperfections.

“Can we reschedule for next week?” said one.

“We need a new star,” said the other. “Every day is the same.”

Adeline leaned her aquiline nose into your curls, “Do you think it was him?”

An awful warmth flooded your belly. Should you rejoice in a woman’s abuse? No, but at the same time, it meant she would not be here to berate the ballerinas. There was no one there.

“She can sing it for you, Harald.” At that moment, Madame Gunnhild hooked her arms under your arms. Harald turned on his boot to Gunnhild, a sultry smile playing on his lips. “What? Her?”

“No, Madame. Please.” You choked on your own words in the attempt to process what she meant. She wove her spindly fingers in your hand, jerking you toward the middle of the stage. For a moment, your heart seized to beat, blood ran still, and you might have fainted by the curiosity in the brothers’ eyes.

“Shh,” she whispered into your ear. “I know you can sing Think of Me. I’ve heard you sing with him.”

If you ever have a moment, spare a thought for me.

Your stomach leapt with uncertainty in the silence of the room. Outside, gossip ran like a bolt of lightning across the sky. Stella’s replacement was never a position you hoped to have. Not for a day, nor an hour but here you were, dabbing your lips with a pink product after intermission in your father’s old room. His picture sat framed by photos of your family: Thyri, Siggy, and him. Your hand trembled as you seized it. Then, falling away, you looked toward the letter that sat square in front of you.

“You have a letter from the Opera Ghost,” Gunnhild had said. Usually, those words would have inspired anyone with fear. Instead, it filled your belly with fervor, a soft pinkness that dusted over your cheeks soften than any blush you could apply. “Open it when you’re alone.”

You fluttered your eyes, hoping that the excitement in your belly was just a built-up from this corset that restricted your breathing. Breath swelled in your chest. You hooked a letter opener under the blotchy gold seal.

“Bellisima.”

The voice echoed through the room. Your physician Athelstan told you it was nothing: a figment of your imagination that you ought to hush about-- or they would send you away. Your angel was a kiss from God and nothing more. Your chest swelled with a heavy breath, fixing the earrings into your ear. They looked like the very stars that shone on the rooftop of the opera house. The voice filled the room, a soft sing-song that bounced from wall to wall and filled you with something like peace.

“Open it, my sweet.”

“It frightens me,” you murmured.

“Don’t be frightened.”

With a flick of your letter opener, you forced the crisp letter apart. In it, a square of parchment sat nestled between a glimmering gold chain. It was a glorious gold chain and, at the end of it, a singular heart locket. There was a knock at your door just as you inspected the inscription etched into its surface.

“May I come in?”

Whether or not you’d agree, Harald already came in. He was a man of tall stature despite his height. Wherever he carried himself, there was respect. You knew him to be in love with Gunnhild, and though she gave him no attention, you knew his intentions for her.

“Do you want to sit down?” you offered. Harald drew off his taupe jacket to figure with a tucked letter in his black breast coat. He held it out to you. You took it, bracelets jingling and saw that inside was a wealth of currency.

“Oh-- this is…” you murmured. “More than I can accept.”

“You knew the viscount, don’t you?”

The viscount Ragnar, you recall. Your cheeks warmed with his memory—a thin child with honey brown hair and a big heart. Harald kneeled before you, running his hand on top of your fluffy pink ball dress.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It has been a while,” you gesture to your photo of your father, reminded by the memory of the land you left behind in Scandinavia. “He probably wouldn’t remember me.”

“I’d wager you’re wrong. Put in a good word for us. He’ll be hard-pressed not to notice you,” he pauses. He rolled his finger through your long curl. It slipped away from his finger as he took his bunched-up suit jacket and opened the door. “As beautiful as you look tonight.”

“I-- thank you.”

The door clasps shut. You didn’t need this money, you murmured. But perhaps the children could use bread. Your attention fell to the necklace around your neck. If you turned the gold pendant over and over again between your fingertips, you could calm the racing of your heart. Today, you would be Elissa. Tomorrow, maybe a chorus girl once again. It was your time. The Ubbe from your memory was just that: a memory.

“Sing it again.”

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071​ @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer​ @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm @superwolfchild-fan

[divyawelby]

— TASK: INTRODUCE YOURSELF

Why was propping your phone up against a bunch of books so unnecessarily difficult? Divya let out a frustrated huff, lips in a twist as she steadied her phone for the umpteenth time against a stack of books comprising of Open Studio: Do-It-Yourself Art Projects by Contemporary Artists, the Beginner's Guide to Digital Painting in Procreate: How to Create Art on an iPad, and Flower: Exploring the World in Bloom. Hopeful now that the device wouldn’t slip and fall, Divya pressed record on her phone’s camera app and retreated backwards to sit cross-legged on the foot of her bed. She let out a breath. “Okay, here goes–”

                                                FLASH BACK: TWO DAYS PRIOR

"What three words would you use to describe me?” Divya asked her brother, his face bobbing unsteadily on the screen of her phone as he made his way through some sort of jungle or something. The ground definitely wasn’t even, that was for sure.

“Is this for a school thing or something? Thought you didn’t start till September.”

“No, it’s not for school. It’s for the retreat thing you and Dad want me to go on. They sent me an email saying I need to film a short clip of me introducing myself and describing myself in three words.”

On the screen, Sean stilled for a moment, lips pressed together. Divya wondered for a moment if he’d froze because the signal was rather choppy but before she knew it, he was moving along and speaking again. “It’ll be more meaningful if it comes from you. It’s just three words, Div.”

“Yeah, I know but I can’t think of anything... All I can think of when I think of myself is like... person, 5′5, brown.”

“You’re describing yourself.”

“That’s the brief!”

“They mean things like nice, tall or strong, adjectives like that and you know it.”

Divya sighed. “I don’t know how to describe myself. I’m boring, mate. It’s like–” Like I haven’t felt like a person in a long time. I don’t know myself, she wanted to add. But she didn’t dare say any of that out loud. She’d gone quiet on her end. She figured Sean noticed because soon, he was offering suggestions.

“How about.... English, you know? Or girl. Or sweet. You’re a sweet kid.”

Divya made a face. “Eww. That’s not right. Can’t be calling myself that. Who willingly describes themselves that way?”

Sean shrugged, sighing before he shook his head. Then she heard someone talk to him. It was from a distance, quite muffled, but something about a mic being hooked up or something? On the screen, Sean’s eyes went a bit wide. Divya thought he looked like he got caught or something. Was he slacking on the job to talk to her?

“Div, look, I got to go,” he was saying the next second, standing up. “But you’ve got this, alright? Ask Dad. He’ll help you.”

Divya sighed again. It’ll be hours before Dad got home from work but she conceded with a nod, knowing Sean had to be off. “Yeah, alright...”

“It’s just three words, isn’t it? Easy shit. Flip through the pages of a Dictionary if it gets too bad. I’ll check in again soon, ‘right? Text me.”

“Okay...” Divya said, evidently in a lesser mood now that one of the three people she talked to had to be on their way. “Take care.”

                                                    FLASH BACK: ONE DAY AGO

“Hey, Dad?” Divya called for her father, wandering into the kitchen from the hall where she knew he was making a cuppa. 

“Yes, darling? What is it?”

Divya slid herself onto one of the stools by the kitchen island, phone in hand with her Notes app open. “If you had to describe me in three words, what words would you use?”

Her father looked up from his mug. “Is this for school?”

Divya wanted to roll her eyes. Sean and her dad were so alike even if they didn’t want to admit it. “No,” she answered, “it’s not school. It’s months away. School year doesn’t start till September, you know.”

“Oh, right, right.” Her dad took a sip of his tea.

Divya sighed. “It’s for the retreat. I have to introduce myself but... I can’t think of anything. Like everything I come up with is so bland and boring and I’m sure everyone else’s is going to be loads better than mine.”

“Well, you can be sure of that,” her father said, not wanting Divya to be down on herself. “Everyone struggles, you know, it’s–”

“Absolute last day to submit tomorrow and I still haven’t thought of anything.” Divya needed her desperation to come across. Her father was usually so detached from things sometimes. She swore he could hardly sense urgency or frustration unless someone was red in the face with their eyeballs about to pop out.

“Well, you know, just list the things everyone says about you, you know? You’re good girl. Funny. Smart. Very nice to people.”

And just like that, Divya knew it was a lost cause asking her father for help. He didn’t get it – why she was so stuck. He saw her the way he wanted to. The way everyone tries to see their own children. He literally just gave her the top three most used adjectives any parent would use for their child. Good. Funny. Smart. Divya didn’t think she was any of those things.

She wondered what it would take for him to be honest. To be present. To really hear her question and give her something of substance. He was still talking now, saying things – agreeable things, uncomplicated things – but disconnected things. Things that felt like he was talking about someone else entirely. Like some other daughter he had that wasn’t just released from an in-patient programme about a month ago. Some person that hadn’t gone through what she’d gone through. It was like her family couldn’t put it behind them fast enough, more than happy to see Divya as ‘better’ now rather than ‘broken’. She supposed she had a part to play in that. 

Ever since she was released, Divya did her best to only show her good side – that she was healing, that she was eating, that she was recovering, that she was no longer a concern. She didn’t want people to worry about her but she also... she felt like she was slipping the more she tried to be better. It didn’t make any sense to her. How could she feel the way she did when all she tried to do was feel better? Do better? She was doing everything right but it still felt... like it was still there. Somewheres. Like maybe it hadn’t gone away, maybe it just got buried. And the longer she went on trying to show people she was all better, she was doing more harm than good. The thought of it made her gulp. Her father still hadn’t stopped talking, doing his best for her even if it wasn’t what she needed.

“Thanks, Dad,” Divya cut in, not wanting to poor man to have an aneurysm with how hard he was trying to list every good adjective there ever was from memory. “I think I’ve got it now.” She pushed her lips into a smile, making sure it was the kind that crinkled the skin near the corners of her eyes. She’s gotten better at being able to tell which smiles her family thought were real. It was dishonest of her to smile this one but she didn’t want him to feel bad that he hadn’t actually helped.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m going to go up to my room to write it all down. You know how nervous I get it.”

“Yes. Good. Always wise to be prepared, darling.”

“Mhm.” Divya nodded her head, making sure her lips were still somewhat pulled at the corners. A smile. I’m doing good, it said. I’ve really got it now; you don’t need to worry. She slipped off of the stool then grabbed her phone off of the island. “Thanks!” She said as she left the kitchen to retreat into her room.

                                          PRESENT DAY, BACK IN DIVYA’S ROOM

“Hi. I’m Divya.” She offered a wave of her hand and a smile. “I’m eighteen. I’m from Singapore.” Well, yes but not really. Usually when people revealed where they were from, they’d state the country they were born in but Divya moved away from England when she was rather young. She didn’t feel as connected to the country as she did Singapore, where she grew up. “And the three words I’d used to describe are...”

She stared at the camera. In real time, it was probably only a moment. A second, if that. But in her mind, it felt like she was contemplating it for the length of a very long breath.

She held up a new finger as she revealed each word. “...Alicia Keys fan.” 

It was an answer but it also wasn’t. It was just enough. Be honest enough. Be okay enough. Not too much but just enough that no one suspected a thing. She pulled her mouth into a grin. Even pushed out a small giggle. If she took the time to comprehend what she was doing, it would scare her that she’d gotten so good at mimicking behavior that would once upon a time be genuine indicators of her being well. Without such heaviness in her mind and on her shoulders. 

“Right then.” She pushed out a breath and clapped her hands over her legs. Then she moved to stand up and walk over to her phone. “I’m probably going to have to edit this bit out,” she said as she neared the device. “Hope I didn’t go over 30 seconds.” Leaning over, she made a yikes face at her phone before smiling – a smile she didn’t have to think about it – and stopping the recording.

[collecting-stories]

Port Wine - Rafe Cameron

Request: hi! i love reading your obx imagines haha and i was wondering if you would write a first date imagine with rafe using prompt 36 and 80?

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written Rafe. It was tricky to separate my own feelings about his character to write this. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

There had been a lot of “friendly” warnings when you mentioned that Rafe Cameron had asked you on a date. There was no debate that he was attractive. Tall, tan, a little too frat boy in the clothes but who cared cause his looks made up for it. But that was where the compliments ended. He was hot, for a hook-up, for a good time, for an “I’ll worry about regretting this in the morning”, but not for a date. He wasn’t date material.  

But when he asked you didn’t consider the extensive list of cons that your friends were able to concoct. Instead you just said yes. Standing on the golf turf, waiting for your grandfather to finish talking to his dad and trying not to stare because Rafe was cute, you were surprised when he asked.  

“This friday? We could take the ferry across to the mainland, avoid all these people.” He looked around when he said people, as if a whole crew of people were going to appear out of nowhere.  

You hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t been swayed by any of your friends’ more colorful stories about the eldest Cameron. Instead, on Friday afternoon, you met him down by the ferry just like he’d asked. The ride over was quiet, filled with small talk about weather, what your college plans were, the upcoming summer, and parental horror stories. Conversation was a little awkward but then you supposed it always was on first dates. And the surreal thought that you were on a first date with Rafe Cameron was enough to hype anyone’s nerves.  

He did all the things you imagined people thought they were supposed to do on first dates. He opened the restaurant door, guided you unnecessarily to the table with a hand on your lower back, pulled out your chair, asked questions about wine that he didn’t totally understand, and tried to master the French pronunciation of the food he was ordering.

“So...this is nice.” He scrunched his nose as he looked around the restaurant that Rose had suggested when he mentioned going on a date tonight.  

-

“A date?”  

“You don’t have to sound so surprised Sarah.” Rafe had commented when his younger sister practically spit her coffee out at the mention of him dating. “Plenty of girls wanna date me.”

“Okay.” She mocked.

“What’s this about a date?” Rose, always one to look for decent gossip, piped up. She’d been looking at new listings and Rafe had been hoping she wasn’t listening but he should’ve known she was.  

“Rafe’s going on a date.” Sarah laughed.

“I’ve been on dates before!”

“Sure you have. If taking a girl to a house party and having sex with her in the bathroom counts.”

“That was one time!”  

“You know where you should take her?” Rose said, plowing through with her idea and ignoring Sarah and Rafe as they continued to bicker. She suggested the French restaurant that Ward had taken her to when they were dating and, while Rafe wasn’t exactly dying to hear the details of their relationship, he took the suggestion. Something was better than nothing.

-

You laughed at the way his nose scrunched and the face he made when he tried to pretend, he liked the duck the waiter served. An A for effort, this place wasn’t exactly doing anything to calm the awkwardness of the situation. If anything, it was only making it worse.  

“It’s a little stuffy.” You mentioned, elbows on the table as you leaned toward Rafe. This was the kind of place your grandparents went and you hadn’t gotten all dressed up to reenact the Sunday date night of two senior citizens.  

“It is, isn’t it?” He looked relieved, dropping his fork on the plate and leaning back in his chair.  

“Wanna get ice cream?” You offered.

He nodded, fishing his wallet out of his pocket to pay for the meal that neither of you had eaten. You had already stood up and grabbed the bottle of wine off the table. “I don’t think you’re supposed to take that with you.” He tossed two hundred on the table and grabbed his jacket.  

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” You promised, stepping into his personal space and tucking the wine bottle into his arm, beneath the jacket. “Come on, I’m thinking Cherry Garcia, that Ben and Jerry’s near the dock is open.”

Rafe let you take his hand and lead him out the door. He’d been unsure about the date the entire way here, up until took the wine off the table. He just kept thinking that Sarah was right, this was all wrong. Dating wasn’t for him and this was why. Trying to get to know someone, to come up with interesting things to say and interesting places to go on dates wasn’t for him. He liked results more than effort.

“So, who planned that date?” You teased, sitting on a bench outside the Ben and Jerry’s stand. You turned so you could face him, careful of your dress, and kept the wine between the two of you.  

“I may have taken some advice from my step-mom.” He admitted, taking a sip of the wine. “This is disgusting with ice cream by the way.”

You laughed as he stuck his tongue out at the taste. “I only ordered it cause it’s like, a shit ton of alcohol.” You twisted the bottle to show him the label. “Ports are always higher.”

“Oh my god, I’m on a first date with my alcoholic grandmother.”

“Shut up!” You smacked his arm.

“No, no, you look great for 75.” He laughed.  

You shook your head, looking away from him. The ferry’s last trip was in an hour but you were having trouble accepting that the date was coming to an end. “You know, my friends kept telling me not to come tonight.”

“Not surprised.” Rafe said, leaning back against the bench.  

“I just mean...everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy but honestly, I don’t see it.” You admitted. Maybe he was a playboy but who on the Eight wasn’t.  

“Well compared to you stealing that bottle of wine-”

“I didn’t steal it! Technically you already paid for it.” You replied, getting up to throw out your paper ice cream bowl. You took Rafe’s too.  

“Alright, not a thief but you did con me into buying the worst wine in the world.” He said. Rafe watched you walk over to him, sitting up when you stepped between his legs. You put one knee up on the outside of his thigh, hand bracing you against the back of the bench as you leaned forward. Rafe gulped, adam’s apple bobbing as he looked up at you. “What’re you doing?” He asked, licking his lips.

“Being uncharacteristically spontaneous.” You offered, “and maybe I’m a little drunk.”

Rafe settled one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck, guiding you into a kiss that you were already initiating. Your friends had also offered up that Rafe Cameron liked girls who were bold. You weren’t exactly the bold type but you were willing to take a plunge. Everything after the restaurant had been amazing. From the walk to get ice cream until now, as you kissed him on the park bench.  

“I really don’t wanna go home.” You admitted when he pulled away.

“We don’t have to.” Rafe replied. He pulled you towards him so that you could sit on his lap, your arm going around his shoulders. “Ever been on a bike?”

“Oh god, that death trap you ride around?”

“What happened to being spontaneous?” He teased, leaning forward and kissing your neck.  

You bit your lip at the feeling of his mouth on your skin. “Okay.” With one arm around your waist to hold you steady his other hand ran up your stomach to the tie on your wrap dress, just below your breasts. You grabbed his hand, holding it in place there. “Not here?”  

“Right.” He nodded. You let out a surprised gasp when his grip on your waist tightened and he stood both of you up. He let you go long enough to grab his jacket and the wine bottle. When he turned back to you he draped the jacket over your shoulders and you smiled, pulling it tight around you. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

“Come on, we don’t want to miss the ferry,” you took his hand, “you can think of other ways to warm me up on the way back.”  

Rafe grabbed you around the waist, pulling you against him and kissing you. Sarah and your friends had been right, he wasn’t really the dating type, but he was glad he’d asked you out and not just to some party on the beach.  

-

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