#i dunno who to tag for this so i shall let it float off on the breeze

[littleferal]

sleeping habits 7

headcanons for agent whiskey (kingsman II)

a/n @0celesteisthebest0 reminded me (indirectly, through some very sweet tags :") that i hadn't finished this series. so i'm allowing myself to post them out of order while i finish javi and santi's. it's time for a yeehonk 💖 thank you @loversandantiheroes for helping me with the terrible t-shirt slogan :) rating general word count 1411 words. warnings mention of anxiety, co-dependency and separation issues. mild angst

benny miller | din djarin | ezra | frankie morales | javier peña | santiago garcia | jack daniels

At all times Whiskey finds a way to be draped over you, or to have you over him and you don’t get much choice about it

If the mood is right it’s endearing, the way he presses himself against your back, peppering sweet kisses and words against your neck until he drifts to sleep

(and even then he’s not rolling away in the night, he is koala’ed to you, good luck moving)

If it isn’t though… well it’s downright annoying because the man is persistent

Roll-on-top-of-you, pull-you-tight-into-his-chest, wrestle-for-cuddles kind of persistent. He just doesn’t want to go a night without you in his arms and there is no such thing as less is more with this man.

Plus Jack doesn’t just crave that physical contact - and all the intimacy it denotes to him - he needs it. He’s over-protective, over-indulgence and - at times - over-invested in the tiniest of actions. But it comes from a place of fear, something you both learnt the hard way, so you let him have it.

Although it’s not so common now, there was a time when Jack actually woke up quite a bit in the night - once, twice, three times - on a regular basis.

It had started as a habit, born of the number of times he’d slip out after a one night stand. He’d wake some time in the early, early, morning, press a kiss to their forehead if he was feeling particularly fond, then slip out of the door in near perfect silence. He had it down to an art.

What Jack didn’t realise is that this then became a habit triggered simply by sleeping next to another person. It served him well in those days but then it didn’t go away.

It became both a blessing and a curse.

Blessing because there has been - and of course still is - many times when he’d wake and the first thing he sees is you sleeping peacefully next to him, and he gets to bask in that warmth. Sometimes he wakes and you’re tucked under his chin, your leg over his hip. He traces mindless patterns over your thigh, holds your head to his chest and enjoys the feeling of someone - you - clinging to him before he slips easily back into sleep.

(And what bliss it is, to be able to wake to a soft dream and slip right back under)

Other times he wakes and you’ve managed to slip from his hold, seeking the cooler side of the bed. But even then your arm still reaches for him and it’s that one small thing that comforts him. You’ve been woken by Jack more than a few times on nights like these, just to find him pressing soft kisses to the back of your hand where it’s held in his, or against your shoulder where he’s slid in next to you. Those nights when you sleepily return his affection are the most soothing to him.

But the habit has also felt like a curse because despite settling in, despite all the love he has for you, it’s stayed, and that has nearly broken his heart.

How could he still be waking up in the night, even now? He doesn’t have any desires to leave, not now, not ever, but the echo of who he had been still haunted him.

In the early days there were times when it was near on every night, was every night whenever stress got to him. He’d wake with his heart already racing, particularly if you weren’t in his arms - have you already left? Or worse, has he already run? The only thing that calmed him on those nights was to wrap himself around you or pull you onto his chest - sometimes so abruptly it woke you up - so he could reassure himself you’re both still there

But he wouldn’t - couldn’t - speak of it. It was his own shame, his own little broken pieces he thought if you saw and knew why you’d be the one to up and leave in the night.

When it was like this he couldn’t even bring himself to leave the bed to seek sleep elsewhere, an irrational fear he couldn’t be trusted to do even that.

It was when you woke once and saw his tears in the moonlight that he tried to run; immediately dismissing it, hoping you wouldn’t ask - please don’t ask, please don’t make me say it, I’m scared - and promptly making an excuse to sleep on the sofa that night so as to not disturb you.

Of course you don’t let him - if you want to be in a relationship with Jack Daniels you need to have some skill in holding him down for his own benefit.

In the end the conversation turned out as short as he’d feared, but so much better than he could have imagined and it went a long way to helping you both understand each other better.

And then slowly, but surely, the habit faded and Jack started to sleep the night through much more regularly. He can still be a light sleeper, but with you in his arms Jack could sleep through anything.

So you let him hold you tight when he needs it and he lets you have space when you need it, finding a balance that sometimes means sleeping at awkward angles to accommodate you both.

Still, Jack can’t sleep soundly at night unless he has a hand on you somehow, somewhere. He’ll sleep on his front, side, back - any which way is comfortable as long as he can reach you

Although he is becoming a bit of an old grouch about sleeping on his front, Jack can easily be the little spoon because - as established - he just needs that physical contact and if his partner is initiating it he’s in heaven. He’ll happily spend the whole night sleeping on your chest and wake up all stiff with zero complaints.

On bad nights Jack actually prefers to hold you and not the other way around, wrapping himself around your back and holding you close. It feels less vulnerable that way, although he learns to let you face him when he does it, tucking yourself under his chin and kissing his neck and chest softly in reassurance that you’re there.

In fact, Jack likes being the big spoon a lot because it makes him feel like he’s doing something right, that you want to be in his arms.

(This is, of course, one of the reasons he used to have such a hard time if you tried to wiggle out of them, because that meant he had done something wrong.)

The compromised, favourite position on hot nights is for Jack on his back with you curled over his chest but it comforts him more than he ever recognised because it means you are actively choosing to be there.

(Yeah, Jack had to learn how to give his s/o the space to show their love for him instead of trying to immediately grab it and hoard it)

And now Jack has a great respect for how you let him hold you all night long through summer nights that he’s truly thankful. He gets extra affectionate when you do, somehow even more than he used to be.

But it’s a good thing he has learnt over time to be able to sleep without you pressed tight against him all the time because Jack runs hot. But at least you don’t stick to him because he prefers to sleep in an old loose tee. His favourite one - when it doesn’t mysteriously disappear - is an old Statesmen shirt which proudly proclaims across the chest to be “The Whiskey Of Your Dreams”. He thinks he’s funny. It’s only endearing because he’s obviously so proud of the joke.

Jack always - without fail - kisses your forehead when he wakes, a new habit he’s formed. Dipping his head to find yours or shuffling about to find you under the sheets so he can kiss you gently, he can’t leave the bed until he’s kissed you, even in you’re asleep and won’t know it.

At one point he realised, made the connection, that it’s a thing he used to do before ducking out. But the pain of the comparison is quickly dulled by you waking and sleepily reaching for him, reminding Jack that you’re both here to stay.

my masterlist

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

I Loved Him... Once - CH 6

Title: I Loved Him… Once

Author: jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Heid (Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid)

Rating: This ones General but eventually as the series goes it will be Explicit

Tags: canon typical violence and gore, eventual smut as the series goes, angst, fluff, pining., its gunna be a slow burn guys.

Summary: A series following the team as they solve crimes and take down the bad guys.     

In Part one of this series, we follow the team as they take down a serial killer that has taken a piece of one of their own. And through it all, Spencer and Hotch come to a few conclusions and realizations of their own.

AO3 

Masterlist 

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter six

     Spencer slowly walked into Eric's house. He had been here so many times in the past. Back when they were in university together they spent most of their time here, rather than studying in the overcrowded campus library, or Spencer's way too small single dorm room. But all the times he'd been here, he never once in his life thought he would ever be here as a profiler instead of a friend. 

     Being here again, it was strange, almost like he was in a dream. Like he was floating and couldn't get his feet back on the ground. As he slowly wandered through the small bungalow there were constant reminders of the fact that he and Eric had been as close as they were. Pictures on the walls of the two of them graduating, the entire collectors edition of the Sherlock series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that he'd bought him for his twenty eighth birthday, the awful matching ugly christmas sweater they had bought for one of the few parties they had been invited too, Spencer still had his and wore it every christmas. Everywhere he looked it seemed Eric had tried to keep him close even when they were far apart. It made him hurt even more that he hadn't seen Eric in over a year, that every time he tried to make plans with Spencer for a visit he had to call it off, most of the time because of work. He always thought there would be more time, now he knew he should have never taken any of it for granted.

     As he continued to wander through, he searched for something, anything, that might help them understand exactly what was going on here, or at the very least lead them to the killer. But there was nothing. The place was as pristine as it always was, Eric was always as much of a neat freak as Spencer was, and not a single thing was out of place. There had been no struggle here, so Eric had been taken and killed somewhere else, and Spencer didn't think they would be finding anything helpful in his house. Which made him all the more frustrated. 

     "Hey, kid, come here!"

     Spencer followed Derek's voice from Eric's bedroom to the pantry in the kitchen. Derek was in the far back corner of the pantry, standing on a small step ladder digging around on the top shelf. "Did you find something?"

     "Yeah," he grunted, passing a few boxes down to Spencer and making more space on the top shelf, then Spencer saw it. 

     "How did you even find that? Who thinks to look for a safe in the pantry?"

     "I wasn't really looking for anything up here," he explained, passing him more boxes of food, "but when I came in just to check it out, I noticed that most of the stuff in here hasn't even been touched. There's dust on most of the boxes of food, except right here the dust had been disturbed. So I looked and found the safe. Now, we can either wait for someone to come and break this open, or we can try to figure out the code on our own. Six digits, kid, what do you got?"

     Spencer thought for a moment, then said, "Try his birthday, November second, seventy-eight."

     "Nothing," Derek shook his head, "got another?"

     "May fourteenth, eighty-four, the day his parents were killed."

     He shook his head again, "Still nothing."

     "Okay," Spencer searched his memory again for another important date in Eric's life, "maybe November tenth, ninety-six, that's the day he was released from foster care."

     "Nope."

     "September seventh, ninety-seven, his first day at Caltech."

     "Not that either, kid," Derek sighed and turned away from the safe towards Spencer, "anything else?"

     "Maybe, one second," he quickly dug out his phone, dialing a number and putting it on speaker.

     "Office of the all and powerful Oz, speak your wish and it shall be granted."

     "Garcia, we need your help," he moved closer to Derek on the ladder, lifting the phone more towards him, "we're trying to crack a safe in Eric's house, six digits, can you tell us what his real birth date was."

     "Sure, sure, honey… that would be June twenty-first, seventy-three."

     "... He was eight years older than me…" Spencer whispered to himself as Derek tried the new date and…

     "Not that either. Any other important dates in Mason Maddox's life, baby girl?"

     She typed for a few seconds before answering, "Maybe January eighteenth, ninety-seven? That's the day he made his new identity as Eric Watts."

     "Nope," he sighed then turned to Spencer again, who was now just aimlessly staring at the floor, "maybe we should just wait for someone to come bust it open. Reid? Hey, kid, you still with me?"

     Spencer closed his eyes as his heart sank to his stomach. It was obvious. "Try October twelfth, eighty-one."

     There was a minute of tense silence, no one really wanting to breach this wall, but Derek said anyways, "That's your birthday."

     "Yeah," he breathed, still not looking up from the floor, "try it."

     Derek turned back to the safe, slowly inputting the six digits of Spencer's birthday, and turned the dial one last time. Spencer shut his eyes tight at the click that signaled they had cracked the code, and tried not to let the stinging in his eyes spill over into the sobs he could feel sneaking up on him. 

     "Why your-"

     "He never missed a single one," he said, a little distantly, "called me every year we weren't together."

     Derek just turned his head away again, not sure what he could say to help, and started digging through the safe. 

     "What's inside?"

     "Woah…" Spencer finally looked up at that, a mixture of curious and worried crossing him.

     "What?"

     "Kid, I dunno if-"

     "Just tell me what it is, Morgan!" He was getting a little short, he wanted everyone to stop treating him like he was fragile and just let him work the case. 

     "Alright," Derek sighed, but handed Spencer the file he had just been looking at, "but I don't know if it's a good idea." Spencer looked down at the file in his hands, hesitating. "Reid, it's still closed, so if you don't want to open it you don't have to. You can just hand it back to me."

     He took a deep breath, contemplated what he really wanted to do and weighed all the outcomes in his mind, before looking up at Derek with a slight nod and opened the file. He instantly felt sick, betrayed, angry, he wanted to lash out but he kept flipping through. Inside were pictures upon pictures of brutal murders. Full eight by eleven sized photos of multiple different women being tortured, stabbed, bleeding. Pictures of the dump sites, pictures of these women before they were taken and after they were killed. 

     He could not believe what he was looking at, he didn't know why Eric would have these things locked up in a secret safe. Well, he did, but it was something he didn't want to have to admit, something he didn't want to have to accept. 

     He looked up at Derek once more, not able to say anything, then dropped the phone and file in his hand and ran out of the house. Derek didn't even have a chance to say anything or try to stop him before he was out of the pantry and gone. 

     He sighed, got down from the ladder, and grabbed up the file and phone Reid had dropped. Penelope was still on the line. "What happened?! Is our boy okay? What's in the file?! Oh god, Derek, tell me what's in the file."

     "Our boy's not doing too well, baby girl," he started, gathering the photos and closed the file, "and according to the pictures we found in the file, it looks like Eric was a part of some very brutal murders."

     "Oh… oh my god, poor Reid, oh…"

     "Yeah, and I don't think there's much more we can do aside from just letting him work through it, and being here when he needs us. And breaking this case I'm sure will help too." He reached up inside the safe and pulled out something else. "Speaking of which, there's a laptop in here, baby girl. If I start it up do you think you can connect and unlock it? Start digging through his files?"

     "Yes, absolutely."

     "Alright," he stepped out of the pantry and into the kitchen, "you get that started and I've gotta make another call."

     "I will call you back when I'm in."

     Once she hung up, Derek dialed another number, not sure if he'd get an answer, but the call was answered immediately. "Reid?!"

     "It's Morgan. You guys finished at Tyler Prince's place?"

     "Yeah, he's not here. We're getting officers to go through the apartment now to try and figure out where he could be. How are things at Eric's place? Did you find anything?"

     "Yeah, that's the reason why I'm calling," he hesitated a second, thinking back on what Rossi had said earlier, then said, "I think… I think I need you down here."

     "Why? Is everything alright?"

     Derek turned and looked to where Spencer had run out the back door. Hopefully David was right and this wasn't what he was worried it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     "He's not here." Hotch holstered his gun and turned to David who was doing the same. "If he is finished with his revenge list, he could be anywhere by now."

     David nodded his agreement, "Let's get the officers and rip this place apart. Maybe we can find some hint as to where he may have gone."

     They started heading outside to retrieve more officers when Aaron's phone started ringing in his pocket. He dug it out and upon seeing the caller ID answered immediately. "Reid?!" 

     "It's Morgan. You guys finished at Tyler Prince's place?"

     "Yeah, he's not here. We're getting officers to go through the apartment now to try and figure out where he could be. How are things at Eric's place? Did you find anything?"

     "Yeah, that's the reason I'm calling." Then Derek hesitated and Aaron's stomach dropped to the floor. He had been worried the moment Spencer's name flashed on his phone, he had told him to call if he needed anything, and then even more worried when it was Derek's voice he was met with instead of Spencer's. And now, he was sure there was something wrong. "I think… I think I need you down here."

     "Why?" He was sure the panic in his voice was evident to a profiler like Derek, but he couldn't care to mask it right now, "Is everything alright?"

     "It's Reid-"

     "I'm on my way."

     He slammed his phone shut, and without even a single word between them, both Aaron and David ran for the car. 

     With the sirens blasting, the lights on, and Aaron driving with the gas pedal practically floored, they made it to Eric's house in less than ten minutes. Aaron parked and jumped out of the car as fast as he could, taking the porch steps in two bounds, and was skidding to a halt in the kitchen when he saw Derek. 

     He looked up from where he was sitting at the laptop at the kitchen counter and said, "He's out back," and Aaron was gone before he could say much more. 

     David strolled in soon after, joining Derek in the empty bar stool at the counter, and Derek turned to him with a still skeptical look. 

     "It's all good, Morgan, just let Aaron handle this." Derek just turned back to the laptop, still not satisfied with the lack of information he was getting. "What did you find that freaked the kid out so much?'

     He slid the file across the counter to him, not taking his eyes off the screen, "We found a safe hidden in the pantry and broke in. The first thing that kind of freaked him out was that the code for the safe was his birthday. Then I found that and this laptop inside. I told him he didn't have to look, but he did."

     "He wants to see this through," David nodded to himself, knowing he would probably do the same as Spencer in his case, then flipped open the file. He instantly recoiled at the sight of some of the pictures in the file as he filtered through, then sighed and closed it. "I can see why this freaked him out. It looks like Eric, or rather Mason Maddox, was involved in some very dark murders."

     Derek nodded, running a hand down his face and turning to David, "I feel bad for him. He thought he knew this guy, obviously felt a little something for him, and all those years he's been murdering people behind Spencer's back. I can't even imagine being in that position, especially as a profiler. The kid's probably beating himself up over this."

     "You're probably right, though none of that is his fault. From the outside Eric seemed like a completely normal man." He then turned his attention to the laptop in front of Derek. "And what about this?"

     "Nothing yet, but Garcia's working on it. Hopefully she can get it unlocked, there might be something on it to help us find Prince."

     David sighed, looking out the back door where the two agents had disappeared, "I hope you're right, for the kids sake, he at least deserves the closure."

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Aaron ran out the back door as fast as he could looking for Spencer, but he was not in eyesight, so he bounded down the porch steps and into the backyard. Halfway across the lawn he heard the undeniable sounds of retching coming from behind the shed and ran to it. 

     Spencer was there, hunched over the bushes, heaving. Aaron hurried to him, wrapping one arm around his stomach while the other alternated between running fingers through his hair and rubbing his back. He helped him through it waiting until the heaving stopped and his legs gave out, and he let Spencer lean back against him as he softly lowered them to the ground. 

     Aaron leaned them against the shed, holding Spencer against his side while he clung to him and sobbed. But he didn't say anything, didn't ask what they had found that had upset him, he just waited. He let Spencer cry as long as he needed to, with his face buried deep in Aaron's shoulder, and held him tightly until he felt he was ready to talk. 

     "He killed people," he whispered, so quiet Aaron almost didn't catch it, before he lifted his head slightly, "Morgan found a safe and… there were pictures inside."

     "Pictures of what?"

     "Women, so many women," he sucked in a shuddering breath, "he tortured and killed them, and I never knew."

     Aaron pulled Spencer close again, tucking him back into his neck, and running his fingers through his hair again. "You couldn't have known. Some of these people fit so well into society outside of their crimes, we would never know."

     "I could have stopped him."

     "It's not your fault," he turned his face to nose at the top of Spencer's head, "there was nothing you could have done."

     He was quiet for another moment before whispering into his neck, "I feel so betrayed," and his sobs wracked up again.

     "Hey," Aaron soothed, turning to wrap his other arm around him, "I know this is hard, and it's going to be for a while, but know that I am always here for you, and I will never betray you. No matter what, you will always have me."

     He didn't say anything, just dug himself impossibly deeper into Aaron, and they stayed like that until then sun was starting to set and Spencer's sobs had finally died down. 

     Aaron was eventually able to get Spencer off the ground and guide him towards the house. Once inside, he asked Derek to take Spencer out to the cars and wait for them there. And without a word of argument after seeing the state of his friend, he grabbed up the laptop and left with Spencer under his arm. 

     Aaron watched them until they were out the front door then turned to David. "They found proof that Eric was killing people?"

     He handed the file to Aaron who quickly looked through it, then closed it with a sigh. His heart bled for Spencer and ached to hold him again, tell him it was going to be okay, so he decided to hurry this along so he could try and do just that. "And the laptop Morgan took?"

     "He found it in a safe along with that file. He's hoping Garcia can unlock it."

     He nodded, then motioned for David to follow him out, "Let's all head back to the hotel for the night. I'm sure Prentis and JJ will have information to share with us as well, but we'll deal with all that back at the station tomorrow. Call them from the car?"

     "Can do," David said, walking out with him, "and what about the kid? How's he doing?"

     Aaron shook his head, "Not well, but can you blame him?"

     "Not at all. He's actually held it together longer than most people would have," he turned to Aaron then, "you need to stick close to him, he's going to need you more now then before."

     They were at the cars then, Aaron not even giving Derek the chance to argue, led Spencer to the passenger seat of his car then hopped in the drivers side. David guided a quite irate looking Derek to the other car, then both cars left the driveway heading for the hotel. Spencer didn't do much more the whole ride then look out the window, but Aaron held his hand the entire ride back. He needed Spencer to know that no matter what happened with this case, or how much worse it may get, he was not alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     They arrived at the hotel and went straight to their rooms. They didn't even bother stopping to see if Emily and JJ had arrived yet, Aaron had already decided whatever they had found could wait for tomorrow. His main concern right now was making sure Spencer was okay. 

     When they reached the hallway where their two rooms were side by side, Derek wasted no time in wrapping a protective arm around Spencer and sharply turning him towards their room. His key card was out before he even reached the door, and without a step of hesitation, the door was open and he was ushering Spencer inside. 

     Aaron stepped towards the door but Derek had placed himself firmly between him and Spencer, holding the door. "I'll make sure he gets some sleep, good night guys."

     And with that firm dismissal, Derek closed the door. Despite the fact that Spencer's eyes never left Aaron's the whole time, and the fact that Aaron so desperately wanted to break the door down and take Spencer back, he couldn't. He didn't want to arouse any suspicion that there might possibly be something there, something between them, especially when they hadn't even had the chance to figure it out on their own yet. Not to mention that he didn't want to put any more stress on Spencer than he already had with this case, so he just resolved himself to turn around and head for his own room. 

     He all but stormed inside and then just stood, stock still, in the middle of the room with one hand over his face. All he wanted to do was get to Spencer, make sure he was okay and that he had the comfort he needed, but he couldn't do that with Derek as protective as he was. So all he could really do right now was sit in his room and stew. 

     David on the other hand, had plans of his own. He marched in after Aaron, going straight to his own bed and grabbing his go bag. He quickly packed his few belongings he had spread throughout the room, and walked past Aaron to the door. 

     "Where are you going?" Aaron asked as he turned back to face him. 

     "You two are killing me," he shook his head with the smallest hint of a grin, "so trust me on this one. You'll both thank me later."

     Without any more explanation than that, he opened the door. And as he was halfway out he stopped, turned back, and said, "Also, I fully and wholeheartedly expect to be the first person invited to this wedding."

     Aaron couldn't help but smile and even blush a little as David left. And if he let himself indulge in the thought of that while he stood there and waited, then that would be his own little secret. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Derek was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching with horror as the young genius paced the room with an almost frantic sense. His movements were jolted and his fingers were taping wildly on the sides of his arms as he moved. And Derek, for all that he knew about Spencer, had no idea how to help him right now. 

     A sudden knock on the door had Derek up and moving, cautious as to not touch or disturb whatever trance Spencer was in, and he opened the door to find David. "Hey, Rossi," he looked down, eyeing the go bag in David's hand then back up with a raised brow, "Something happen? We going somewhere?"

     "Not we, just the kid." He walked in past a still very confused Derek and grabbed Spencer's go bag from under his bed, handing it to him. "Up and attem, kid, let's go. The boss is waiting for you."

     He had finally stopped his manic pacing and was now racing through the room to gather his things, not even giving a second thought to Derek as he tried several times to stop him. So instead, Derek turned on David, "What exactly is going on here?!"

     "We're switching rooms," he shrugged as if it were obvious.

     Derek huffed, shoulders tense, "I can see that, Rossi, but why? What's wrong with this one? Why can't he stay with me?"

     "Aaron just wants to keep an eye on him, that's all," he tried to ease Derek's mind, but it didn't work. 

     So as Spencer came out of the bathroom, his now full go bag in hand and heading for the door, he stopped him and said, "Reid, are you sure Hotch isn't giving you a hard time?"

     "I'm fine, Morgan, I promise." And he was out of his grasp and heading for the door.

     "Kid, you're good with this?! You can stay here you know, I can keep an eye on you too without-" But he was gone, the door closing behind him as he practically ran down the hall. Derek just shook his head and turned back to David. "He really doesn't need to babysit him like this. Reid is fine, he'll be okay. I know this is a rough case for him, it would be for anyone in his situation, but he's got all of us to help him through this. Hotch does not need to keep him on a tight leash and make him feel like he's incapable. And I can make sure Reid's okay just as well as Hotch can."

     "I know, Derek, I know you can, but it's not about that. Any of it," he tried to answer as calmly as he could in an attempt to being down Derek's anger, raising both hands to his shoulders, "just let it be, alright, it's not what you think."

     "Rossi-"

     "Let it go, Derek," he smiled and gave Derek's shoulders a squeeze, "it's nothing bad, Hotch is not giving Spencer a hard time, and he does not think Spencer is incapable of doing his job. The kid's fine, just let him be with Aaron right now."

     "Not like I have much say anyways. The kid's already gone," he said, nodding towards the door, "is it me?"

     Dave couldn't help but laugh a bit at that, patting Derek's cheek lightly as he replied, "It most definitely is not you."

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Since Dave had left, Aaron had also picked up a frantic pacing of his room. And when finally a knock came at the door, he rushed over to open it and let Spencer in. 

     He was standing in the doorway, go bag in his arms and looking anxious, worried, maybe even a little scared. All of which had Aaron concerned. He wanted to ease Spencer, not make it worse. 

     "I…" He started, looking down at his shuffling feet as he spoke, "Are you okay with this? Cuz if not I can-"

     "I would prefer it this way, actually."

     "Good," that brought a small smile to Spencer's lips, the first one Aaron had seen since the start of this case, "me too."

     He walked past Aaron and inside the room, taking up the bed that was still made on the left. He quickly grabbed his pjs from his bag along with his toiletries, and excused himself to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Aaron followed suit after Spencer was finished, and when he came out, he hesitated at the edge of his bed for a moment. 

     He stood and stared at Spencer, Spencer staring right back. It was clear they both had something to say, but neither was sure if it would be okay to say it, worried the other would react in a way that might make things worse. So Aaron just turned away and broke the gaze, getting into bed.

     They both said goodnight and Aaron reached between them to turn off the bedside lamp. He turned over, making every effort to try and sleep, but every thought on his mind went to Spencer, every part of his body itched to touch him and hold him like he had earlier. He wanted to run his fingers through his hair and comfort him, make sure Spencer knew that no matter what Aaron was here and he was not going anywhere. And what the hell, maybe David was right, he wouldn't know anything unless he asked.

     "Hey, Reid," he turned back over and sat up, seeing Spencer was already in the same position as him, "I know today's been hard for you, so… so if you-" And before he could even finish his sentence, Spencer was up and out of his bed. 

     Aaron moved back and held the blankets up for Spencer to shuffle under beside him. Spencer had planned on leaving some space between them, not wanting to just barge into Aaron's personal space, and just happy to be in the same bed as him, but Aaron reached over and pulled him against his chest before he could. And Spencer wasn't going to complain or protest. 

     Aaron laid on his back, tucking Spencer tight against him, his head under his chin and Aaron's arms wrapped tightly around him. Spencer sunk into the warmth and comfort of Aaron's body, digging his nose into his neck and breathing in the smell that was only Aaron, that smell that Spencer found the most comforting thing in the world, and he finally felt himself relaxing for the first time since they landed in California. 

     They laid like that for some time, just content being together. Aaron ran his fingers through Spencer's hair, whispering to him over and over again the same thing, until he finally heard Spencer's breathing even out and he knew he was asleep. And once more, before he fell asleep himself, he whispered right against Spencer's ear, "I've got you, and I promise I will never let you go."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Lots of Hotch and Reid together in this chapter! Let me know what you think <3

[writingblock101]

Old Memories (Jason Todd x Reader)

Request for anonymous: “I didn’t want you to see me like this.” and “You’re proud of me?” 

I hit 700 followers? Holy shit? Thank you! Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,000 words

Warnings: Gore, violence 

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish, @mayahoelland2013

Red Hood grimaces under his helmet at the sound of the familiar, maniacal laughter. His hands tighten into fists as his skin burns with the heat of a bomb and stings from the blows of a crowbar. Keep breathing. You’re not in Ethiopia. His fingers ghost over the word “HA!” carved repeatedly into skin that isn’t his. The memory makes Red Hood’s stomach boil with rage. 

His hands brush over one of his guns strapped to his thighs. The heavy metal brings him comfort, knowing he’s not a scared kid, beaten and chained to the ground in an abandoned warehouse. He’s highly trained and heavily armed with a chip in his shoulder. While Red Hood may have agreed to not kill in Gotham, he’s certainly going to deliver some pain to the Joker. 

“Help patrol Gotham, they said,” Red Hood mutters to himself. “B would appreciate it so much, they said.” 

“You good, Wing?” Nightwing asks over the comms. 

“Peachy,” Red Hood growls, his teeth grinding at the sound of the laughter again. “Where the fuck is this crazy son of a bitch?” 

“Dunno. The upstairs classrooms are clear.” 

Red Hood grumbles under his breath as he checks an empty kindergarten classroom. While he’s happy Joker decided to hole up in a school at night when there weren’t any kids present, there are about twenty million different ways he’d rather be spending his evening than hunting for the Joker with Nightwing and all of them include you. 

You and Dick, of course, were the ones who talked him into helping patrol Gotham. With Batman and Robin on bed rest after getting caught in an explosion and Red Robin abroad, that left Nightwing and Red Hood to make sure Gotham didn’t go to hell. And of course, just with Red Hood’s luck, Joker decided tonight was a beautiful night to break out of Arkham. 

“I hate this fucking city,” Red Hood grumbles. 

“Clearly not that much ‘cause you never left,” Nightwing quips back. 

“Yeah, well, sorry for not fucking off to a completely different city because B pissed me off,” Red Hood snaps. 

“We’re not all dramatic enough to die instead.” 

Red Hood grins under his helmet, glad that his siblings are finally catching on to how much fun it is to make death jokes. 

The intercom crackles to life, Red Hood’s grin melting off his face. 

“Looks like old Batsy seems to think he’s too good for my games,” The Joker sighs. “Instead, he sent me Old Boy Wonder and the Defective,” He laughs loudly. “I’m sure we’ll still have some fun!” 

Red Hood grinds his teeth, but finishes checking the last classroom. 

“Downstairs is clear, anything upstairs?” 

“All clear,” Nightwing confirms. “That just leaves the gym.” 

“Great,” Red Hood sighs. “Meet in the west stairwell.” 

Nightwing swings around the railing, dropping onto the floor next to Red Hood. Show off. 

“Shall we?” He asks. 

Red Hood grumbles but follows Nightwing out the stairwell and toward the large gym. Red Hood shoves open the door to be immediately met by gunfire near his head. He curses, ducking left while Nightwing sprints right. 

“Hiya, boys!” Joker exclaims, firing another round of bullets into the wall above the bleaches Red Hood is hiding under. “I thought you two would never find me!” 

“I’d rather find you in a cell in Arkham!” Nightwing yells from opposite bleachers. 

“Arkham?!” Joker sounds deeply offended. “Boy Wonder, when did you turn into such a party pooper?” 

“You want an alphabetized list?” Nightwing growls then his escrima sticks crackle to life with electricity and he leaps out of his hiding place, hitting a nearby goon in the face. 

Red Hood takes that as his cue and comes out shooting. They make quick work of the goons, sending the Joker sprinting toward the back of the gym. 

“This party isn’t over yet!” He exclaims, pulling out a different, strange-looking gun. 

“What the…” Red Hood frowns at the toy looking weapon then Joker points it at him and fires. “Shit!” Red Hood exclaims, rolling out of the way from a dart that’s sticking into the floor. 

Joker fires again, this time hitting Red Hood in the shoulder. He curses, yanking the dart out, but feels strange. Joker laughs again. 

“I hope you like my new concoction!” He exclaims. 

Jason feels the room spin around him for a moment, a floating feeling rushing throughout his body. A giggle builds in his stomach then comes tumbling out of his lips. Another follows, spilling like bubbles out of Jason’s mouth. Bubbles, that’s funny. He laughs more, the idea of bubbles coming out of his mouth seeming hilarious. 

He looks down at his chest, expecting to see bubbles. Huh. He’s on the ground now. Isn’t that funny? Jason thinks so. 

He looks down at his chest, wanting to find the bubbles. Maybe they’re a pretty color! Wouldn’t that be funny? Bright green and purple bubbles spilling out of Jason’s mouth. That would be hilarious! 

Jason laughs more, tilting his head to see the bubbles, but he doesn’t see bubbles. Dark red blood gurgles down his chest, oozing from his split open stomach. Those aren’t green and purple bubbles. More blood gushes out of his stomach as Jason laughs harder. Blood? He’s bleeding? When did he start bleeding? He needs to stop the bleeding, but he keeps laughing. What is so funny? Jason isn’t sure, but he keeps laughing. 

Deep cuts on his arms begin dripping with blood. HA! HA! HA! HA! carves itself into his skin. Jason laughs harder, feeling tears rush down his face. He hears the smack of a crowbar against skin, the ticking of a clock, the smell of gunpowder. He feels the burn of an explosion, a sheen of sickly green covers his eyes. It bubbles around him, forcing his skin back together. 

“Jason?” You stand in front of him, blood spurting from your slit throat. “Why did you do this to me?” 

It’s not funny, but Jason can’t stop laughing. 

“Why did you do this to me?” You hiss, more blood spurting from your throat. 

As blood dribbles from your throat, it catches the scars on your arms. HA! HA! HA! 

“You did this!” You scream. “Jason! You did this! Jason! Jason! JASON!” 

“Jason!” Nightwing exclaims. 

Jason jerks awake with a gasp. He shoves Nightwing away from him and rips his helmet off, breathing heavily. His hand flies to his chest to find it perfectly dry. He isn’t bleeding, you’re not here. He’s on the ground in the gym. The Joker is tied up and unconscious. Isn’t that funny? 

A familiar, maniacal laugh escapes Jason’s lips. His eyes widen at the realization. 

“Hey,” Nightwing puts a grounding hand on Jason’s shoulder. “It’s okay, breathe through it. We have the antidote, let’s just go to the Cave--” 

“No,” Jason cuts him off. “I’m not going to the Cave,” He giggles at the thought of bats, his anger quickly flushing away. 

Nightwing sighs, probably not surprised by Jason’s resistance. 

“Okay, fine. I can go to the Cave. Do you want me to take you back to your apartment?” 

“No!” Jason laughs again, his chest tightening at the familiar laughter. He feels a crowbar smack his skin. His hands go to his hair, tugging. There’s no crowbar. Another laugh spills past his lips. “I can’t,” Jason manages as another laugh forces its way out. He tugs harder on his hair. “I can’t do that to Y/N… Not when I’m like this.” He laughs again. 

Dick frowns, squeezing Jason’s shoulder. 

“Okay, Jase, just breathe. You’re okay.” 

Jason nods shakily, his heart rate speeding up with each laugh. 

“My apartment is too far…” Nightwing frowns. 

“I have a spare key to Tim’s apartment,” Jason giggles, his fingers tightening in his hair at the sound. 

Nightwing narrows his eyes. 

“Does Tim know this?” 

Jason rolls his eyes. 

“He’s the one that gave it to me, birdbrain,” The usual bite is wrecked by another maniacal laugh. 

“Okay,” Nightwing helps Jason to his feet. “Let’s get you out of here.” 

. . . 

It’s not just Joker Venom. Dick curses under his breath. It never is easy with Joker, is it? He looks over at his brother on the couch. The crazed grin has forced its way onto Jason’s face as more and more maniacal laughter forces its way out. 

With each giggle, Jason’s nails dig into his hair. Luckily, Dick was able to get Jason out of his gear, but the sight on Tim’s couch was truly heartbreaking. 

Jason is hunched over, curled in a protective position Dick guesses Jason used a lot before meeting Bruce. His hands are knotted into his hair, tightening with each giggle. His eyes are squeezed shut, tears streaming down his face through the laughter. 

“No, stop!” He begs. He murmurs something low and panicked that Dick doesn’t catch. “Stop! Leave Y/N alone!” 

Dick clenches his fist, his chest tightening at hearing Jason say your name again. If he had to guess, Joker laced his Venom with Fear Toxin. Because Joker Venom wasn’t already hellish enough. 

Jason whimpers again, curling tighter on himself. Dick needs the antidote. This isn’t the first time Joker has combined his Venom with Fear Toxin so making the antidote won’t take long, but Dick can’t bear to leave Jason alone. 

Kori is off-world, Roy is on the other side of the country, Bruce and Damian are the absolute last people Jason wants to see… Kyle is off-world, as is Donna, Tim is in Europe, Cass is in Hong Kong with Steph, Babs is helping the Birds of Prey with a mission, and Dick doesn’t have a single clue about how to get in touch with Jason’s friend, Artemis. While Dick understands why Jason doesn’t want you anywhere near him, Dick doesn’t want Jason left alone for any period of time… Which leaves you as his only option. 

Dick sighs and fishes out his phone. 

. . . 

You stand outside Tim’s apartment, staring at the door. Dick gave you the full rundown. Jason has been hit with a mixture of Fear Toxin and Joker Venom, giving him terrifying hallucinations while laughing like the man who murdered him. 

The sound of maniacal laughter, muffled by the door, sends chills down your spine. Your arms burn where the words HA! HA! HA! HA! are carved. The sound of screams echo distantly in your ears. 

Although it has been years since you were trapped in that 3rd-grade classroom with that deranged clown while watching him carve into your classmates’ bodies, the memories still haunt you constantly. Some kids got Glasgow smiles carved onto their faces. Others got the Joker’s name carved across their chest. You got his laughter carved down your arms. Years of therapy is the only reason you can stand in front of this door without running. 

Another laugh fills your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the sting of the cuts running down your arm, but you pause, taking a deep breath. Although the laugh sounds dangerously close to the Joker’s, underneath the high pitch noise you can hear Jason’s low timbre. He is in there, forced to be producing the last sounds he heard as a scared, beaten sixteen-year-old, and you’re not going to let him suffer alone. 

You knock on the door. 

Dick opens the door, looking a bit disheveled. He’s still in his Nightwing costume, mask and all, but judging by his messy hair, he’s been tugging on it and running his fingers through it, a nervous habit you’ve noticed most of the family doing. 

“Hey,” He pulls you inside quickly. “I’m sorry to drag you into this--” 

“I’m glad you called me,” You cut him off. A familiar laugh interrupts you, causing you to tense. 

Dick frowns, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. 

“Hey, just breathe. You’re not there. You’re in Tim’s apartment.” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, nodding along with Dick. 

“I’m okay,” You promise. 

“Y/N?” Jason says quietly. 

You break away from Dick and slowly approach Jason on the couch. He looks exhausted and terrified, dried tear tracks on his face along with the frozen, crazed smile. 

“Hey, Jaybird,” You begin quietly. “You okay?” 

“You’re...You’re not real…” Jason slowly backs away from you, curling against the couch’s opposite arm with a giggle.

“No, Jay, I’m here. I’m real,” You reach out to run your fingers through his hair. 

He sighs, melting into the touch for a moment, then a deranged giggle forces its way out of Jason’s mouth. Your hand tenses slightly in his hair. It’s not Joker. This is Jason. Joker isn’t here. It’s just Jason. He would never hurt you. 

Jason notices your sudden stiffness and slips away from your touch. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Anger tries to overtake his features, but the fixed smile makes Jason look even more demented. He glares at Dick. “I told you not to call! What the hell?!” He laughs loudly, his hands closing into tight fists.

“I didn’t want to leave you here alone and Y/N was the closest person,” Dick explains calmly. 

“I would be fine!” Jason protests, another laugh forcing its way out. 

“No, you wouldn’t be,” Dick responds tightly. “I have been watching you lose your shit on the couch for the past twenty minutes! I need to go make you the antidote.” 

“I’ve survived worse!” Jason protests with a loud, maniacal laugh. “I’m already living through hell, I didn’t want someone else to be dragged in!” 

Your face softens. 

“Jay,” You reach out to touch his arm, but he jerks away from you. 

“No!” He protests loudly with another laugh. “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Tears form in his eyes. “I don’t want to… to turn into him.” 

“Jase,” Dick frowns. “You’re nothing like the Joker. You’ll never be the Joker.” 

“You… You don’t get it!” Jason yells with a laugh.

Dick opens his mouth to say something else, but you interrupt before he can. 

“Dick. Go to the Manor, I’ll stay here,” You order. 

Dick shoots a worried glance at Jason but nods and walks out of the room. You turn your attention back to Jason. 

“Jay,” You cradle his face, wiping your thumbs under his eyes. “You’re not the Joker. You never will be.” 

“I know, but I didn’t… I didn’t want you to see me when I sounded like this,” Jason giggles again, your shoulders tensing for a moment. “See! I know you’re scared of me! I never want you to feel like that around me!” 

“I’m not scared of you,” You tell him sharply. “I know you would never do anything to hurt me. Yes, the laugh brings back some bad memories, but you don’t bring back those bad memories. You help me replace them with something better.” 

Jason’s eyes squeeze shut for a moment, his hands coming up to hold your wrists. 

“I saw myself standing over you so many times. You were bleeding and I was holding the knife,” He pauses, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I saw myself hurting you,” He giggles, his hands momentarily tightening on your wrists at the sound. 

“Jay, have you ever had any desire to ever hurt me?” You ask. 

Jason’s eyes fly open. 

“No!” He quickly says. 

“Then what makes you think you’re suddenly going to start now?” 

Jason says nothing, looking down at the floor. You move a hand to his chin, forcing him to look at you. 

“I’m proud of you,” You tell him. 

His eyebrows furrow with a crazed laugh. Both of you tense for a moment. 

“You’re proud of me?” He asks hesitantly. 

“Every day,” You tell him. “You never cease to amaze me. You’ve experienced the worst of the world, but still put yourself in danger to help others. You have so many reasons to be angry, but you still find some way to love everyone around you. Tonight, you faced off against a man who has hurt you and so many people that you love. He tried to break you, turn you into what you hate, but you are still standing here strong. I am proud of you.” 

Tears freely flow down Jason’s face then he pulls you into a tight hug, holding you close to his chest. 

“I’ll never hurt you,” He promises into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I know,” You whisper back, despite the giggle that escapes him. 

. . . 

By the time Dick makes it back to the apartment, you had coaxed Jason on the couch where he was fast asleep against your chest. You idly run your fingers through his hair, whispering words of reassurance to him when his body goes tense from nightmares. 

Dick holds up a syringe. 

“How is he?” Dick asks. 

You shrug, glancing down at Jason fondly. 

“About as good as he can be, given the circumstances,” You look at the syringe. “Antidote?” You ask. 

“Yep,” Dick nods. “Let’s wake him up.” 

“Jay,” You whisper to him, running your fingers down his back. “I need you to wake up.” 

Jason jerks awake, looking frantically around the room for a moment, but your hand in his hair directs his attention to you. 

“Hey, you okay?” You ask quietly. “We’re in Tim’s apartment.” 

Jason nods with a giggle. 

“Dick got the antidote.” 

“Thank God,” Jason groans, rolling his sleeve up. 

Once Dick injects Jason with the antidote, you two move to Tim’s bedroom for the night. The smile is finally starting to fade from Jason’s face. 

He collapses onto the bed and pulls down you with him, wrapping his arms around you tightly. 

“Thank you,” He murmurs into your hair. “I love you.” 

You tilt your head up and give him a sweet kiss. 

“I love you too,” You whisper back, making Jason hold you tighter. 

Everything is okay. 

Thank you guys so much for being patient! My parents are currently moving, I am transferring colleges, starting my summer job and trying to sort out summer classes. Those other request are coming up! I’m really excited to write the next one! 

[verai-marcel]

Counting Stars (RDO OC X OC SONGFIC, 18+)

Summary: Everett chases down Verai after their first night together.

Author’s Notes: I haven’t written a song fic in years. Was suddenly inspired. Let’s do this.

Tags: old timey racism, song fic, rdo oc x oc, pining, love, mild angst, campy as hell, some vague smut

Word Count: ~1270

--------------------

~Lately, I been, I been losin' sleep

Dreamin' about the things that we could be

But baby, I been, I been prayin' hard

Said no more countin' dollars, we'll be countin' stars

Yeah, we'll be countin' stars~

Everett stared up at the night sky, his bedroll feeling scratchy underneath him as he shifted his legs. Stuck in the Lemoyne heat, he had taken off everything except for his short drawers and laid down with no fire, just the moonlight and the fireflies providing illumination.

But as he stared at the full moon, he could not find the answers he sought. For days he had been pursuing Verai, chasing after her like a shadow chases after its caster, always close but never able to touch. Ever since he had spent that one glorious night with her, she had fled, avoiding him at every turn.

He replayed that night for the millionth time, trying to figure out what he could have said that would have scared her off. Not much scared that woman, but apparently whatever he had done had freaked her out enough to hide from him. He was a good tracker so he managed to stay on her trail for this long, but she was getting better at hiding. She was avoiding towns that didn’t have many of her people, for she knew that someone would quickly notice a Chinese woman around town and gossip about an outsider.

~I see this life, like a swingin' vine

Swing my heart across the line

In my face is flashin' signs

Seek it out and ye shall find~

Everett didn’t know when he thought she was the one, didn’t know when he had fallen so hard that he couldn’t get out, but when she disappeared, that was when he knew he couldn’t live without her. Never again would he float from job to job, town to town, taking his pleasure as he chose.

No, he realized he had crossed a line somewhere in his heart, and he could never turn back now. No one else would do.

He kept riding, past the Lemoyne border, into New Hanover, north through Annesburg, west across the Ambarino border, finding it harder and harder to keep track of her.

~Old, but I'm not that old

Young, but I'm not that bold

And I don't think the world is sold

On just doing what we're told~

“I’m looking for a woman, long black hair in a braid, black eyes, comes up to my shoulder,” he asked the man who had been traveling in the opposite direction.

“One of them orientals?”

Everett gritted his teeth. “She’s Chinese.”

The man shrugged off Everett’s correction. “Saw someone like that traveling that way a day ago. Could’ve been a man or a woman, I can’t tell. They all got them long braids and look scrawny.”

“Right, thanks,” Everett said, getting away from the man before he punched out his remaining teeth.

“Yer better off stickin’ to yer own kind!” the man shouted at him as he left. It took everything in Everett’s self-control not to turn around and beat the man within an inch of his life.

His own kind? His kind was tough, scrappy, silently strong. Everett didn’t care about anything else. He only cared that Min had stolen his heart. Wherever she went, he followed.

~I feel something so right doing the wrong thing

I feel something so wrong doing the right thing

I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie

Everything that kills me makes me feel alive~

“How did you find me?”

“I told you, I used to be a ranger. I can track anyone.”

Verai let out a sigh. She was trapped in her mountain shack, the one she used to hide away from the world when everything got to be too much. After her night with Everett, she had panicked and fled. The warm glow in her heart that she had preserved for Mateo and only Mateo had slowly been transferring to Everett, and she was afraid to let it happen.

She didn’t want to let Mateo go.

But Everett had slowly woven his way into her heart.

She was afraid.

She was so damn afraid of forgetting Mateo.

Lost in her own fear, she didn’t realize that Everett was now standing in front of her, trapping her in her own home, cornering her.

“Please leave,” she quietly said. She hated how her voice trembled.

“I won’t.”

“I thought you respected my boundaries,” she whispered.

“And I thought you were more self-aware,” he said before he leaned down and kissed her.

She melted into his touch, letting him press her against the wall, letting him take her breath, her very soul. It felt good. It felt so right.

Verai pushed him away. “We can’t.”

“We can. You can.”

“But—”

“Your love for Mateo will never change,” he interrupted. “I’ll never replace him.” He kissed her once more before continuing. “But I’m alive. And I’m here now. I’m right here with you.”

Everett knew he shouldn’t have mentioned her former lover. He knew how much he had meant to her, how she still mourned him, four years later. But he had to push her. Had to make her see how she was hurting herself by holding on so tightly to a memory.

Seeing her eyes mist over, seeing her show him her weakness made him want to be stronger for her. He knew that she could physically protect herself better than he could, but he wanted to protect her heart.

So he held onto her tight, refusing to let her go until she finally collapsed into his arms and gave into him.

~I feel your love and I feel it burn

Down this river, every turn

Hope is our four-letter word

Make that money, watch it burn~

Verai clasped onto Everett, letting him carry her to the bed, letting him lavish her with love and attention, his every kiss, his every touch sending fire straight to her heart. She knew, on an objective level, that Mateo was gone, would never come back, and that Everett was with her now, and he loved her, as broken as she was.

And she realized that she could potentially love him too.

She hoped that she could come around and be healed someday. And when that day came, she hoped that it would be Everett that stood with her, holding her just as gently and tenderly as he was tonight.

~And I feel something so wrong

Doing the right thing

I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie

Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly~

It killed him to finish outside of her.

Feeling her arms and legs wrapped around him, he had thought about it. Marking her body on the inside, making her his.

It would have felt so right.

But he had pulled away and spent himself on her soft thighs, huffing with exertion, pressing his forehead against hers and silently lamenting his self-control.

He could’ve spent himself inside of her and told her he couldn’t control himself.

But he’d never lie to her. Not like that. 

Maybe one day, he’d be with her completely.

When she was ready.

~Take that money, watch it burn

Sink in the river the lessons I've learned~

“You won’t run away anymore?”

“I… I won’t run away.”

“You hesitated, Min.”

“I still need time to myself, every once in a while.”

“Alright. As long as you come back to me. Otherwise I’ll come find you.”

Verai looked over at Everett and softly smiled. “I know you will.” She stared up at the ceiling again. “If there’s ever a time I don’t come back on my own, come pull me out of my misery.”

“Of course. I promise.”

--------------------

End Notes: I dunno, just had to get this out of my system, the mental music video just would not leave my head!

[our-wargame]

Two times Sakunosuke understood Dazai, and one time it was goddamn impossible [PT. 2/3]

Rating: T Pairing: Oda Sakunosuke / Dazai Osamu Tags: Dark Era, fluff, the good stuff i promise Summary: Alternatively, three times he’s wrong on all counts.(Dazai can only accept so much obliviousness; Sakunosuke thinks he deserves a little more credit.) 

Read [Part 1] Read [AO3]

Preface Notes: One brief Dazai-typical suicide mention but this chapter's legitimately so much better and fluffier and better than the first; thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Ango and Dazai are already at the bar when he walks in. They spot each other at the same time but Dazai still swings his bar stool round, still chirps, "Odasaku!"

"Yo." He slides into his usual seat and cocks his head towards the others. "What are you so happy about?"

"Betting pool." Dazai says, eyes gleaming. "Ango's in."

Sakunosuke raises an eyebrow. Ango doesn't usually drink himself stupid unless he's gotten coerced by the both of them, which means the Ango before him has either been replaced by aliens or Dazai's given him odds too good to deny.

Ango clears his throat, opens his mouth. Closes it once. Then he sighs. "I have no excuses."

"Huh. Okay, I'll play." Sakunosuke says, before Dazai inevitably asks him to. The bartender passes him his whiskey and he tips his head back, bringing the glass up to his lips.

Again, Ango opens his mouth- but Dazai beats him to it. "Alright, but it's kind of a special bet. A secretive, peculiar bet I've specially crafted."

"Meaning?"

"Ango and I have premade a bet that we shall not speak of. The winner will be determined through several small rounds of a equally secret debate, which is where we need you as our third-party mediator." Dazai says. "We'll ask you questions and based on your input, you'll unknowingly determine who wins each round."

Hm. Dazai makes it sound like this is a single-blind social experiment.

"It'll make more sense when we begin." Dazai adds. Sakunosuke looks at Ango one more time to confirm Ango, Ango of all people, is going to participate in Dazai's little game. Ango raises his glass in answer.

Dazai claps his hands together. "Okay!"

Sakunosuke sits back and makes his own bet- in his head. How long will it be 'till he regrets this? (He knows the answer- he won't. Dazai ropes him into the best moments of his day.)

Dazai asks most of the questions. The first few are not nearly as odd they could be. What's his favorite reading genre - realistic fiction. How come none of their abilities make them more attractive to women - he doesn't know. Of his kids, who's his favorite - Sakura, sorry not sorry, Sosuke.

"Does Odasaku have a type?"

"A what?"

"A type of person you'd want to be romantically involved with." Ango says, inspecting the liquid in his glass. "For example, Dazai-kun's type is someone who will double suicide with him." Sakunosuke has a faint feeling he knows where this is going but if he walks towards the idea, it runs right out of his reach.

Dazai adds, "And Ango's type is someone who likes him."

"What?? That's not-"

"Low standards, Ango has." Dazai nods, in mourning. "On the other hand, ambition is the enemy!" He pats Ango on the back. "We'll find you someone someday, Ango. You're not a lost cause!"

"I see." Sakunosuke says, although he really doesn't.

"Odasaku-san," Ango scolds. "You should stop humoring Dazai-kun. You just encourage him to be more of himself every day." Sakunosuke's mouth twitches. He's pretty sure Ango shouldn't talk. And Dazai deserves to be humored once in a while.

"I love you too, Ango!" Dazai beams. "Now let's go back to Odasaku! Type?"

Sakunosuke thinks for a second. "Someone tactful?" Maybe he's the one with low expectations? It's not like he's searching for anything actively, but he thinks it would be enough to have someone who understands him, to have a relationship where they understand one another.

"Considerate and sensitive, huh?" Dazai muses. "Not asking for much, are we, Odasaku?"

"Okay. So Odasaku-san, we've established you like thoughtful people." Ango interjects. "But how do you feel about troubled brats?"

"They can be the same person, can't they?" Sakunosuke says. For example, in this bar, there are at least two troubled, thoughtful people he's fond of- if you're counting Ango and himself each as a half. And then of course, the most interesting person of them all.

Surprisingly enough, there's no verbal answer to be received. When he looks at the others, he sees Ango busily polishing his glasses and Dazai smiling, smiling at his drink as he prods the floating piece of ice.

Huh. Sakunosuke peers at him. Dazai's features may be content, relaxed, but they give away nothing. Sakunosuke has no idea what has him so pleased. Unless? "Dazai, are you winning the bet?"

"Oh no," Dazai shakes his head, still smiling away. "Losing miserably."

"Oh? Do you intend to lose?"

Dazai's grin widens. "I'll ask the questions tonight, Odasaku."

His lips quirk involuntarily. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

Dazai sparkles with mischief. Something jolts in Sakunosuke, but his attention is immediately redirected when Dazai teases, to the lilt of his head, "You're a terrible listener."

"I listen. When there's something worth listening to."

"Odasaku!" Dazai mock-gasps. "Everything I say is worth listening to! I'm your favorite person, after all, aren't I?"

"Your mind certainly dances," he agrees, aware that his response doesn't quite fit, aware that he's no longer suppressing his own grin, aware that he can't.

"Oh? That sounded like agreement."

"Now who's the terrible listener?"

Before Dazai can return a quip, Ango bursts into a violent coughing fit. He buries his face into his arm and goes off, and the noise makes Sakunosuke break his gaze away from Dazai. He reaches into his pocket, and then past Dazai to offer his handkerchief. Ango flaps a hand wildly, waving him off with the same ferocity. He retreats but blinks at him, still rather concerned. Dazai, on the other hand seems unalarmed, offering an innocent, "Ango, your face is really red. Are you okay?"  

"Hahaha." Ango shouts. "I-I should go easier on the drinks. Probably. hA Ha."

"Ango....you ordered a coffee."

He waves off Sakunosuke's response. "I AM. FINE. THANK YOU."

"...okay."

"Ah!" Dazai says, pulling Ango's arm over to himself and shaking it so that Sakunosuke can see a blur of a wristwatch. "It's getting late! We should finish up our bet, right?"

Sakunosuke nods. They probably have to prepare for tomorrow's work but he wouldn't mind hanging around a little longer. Ango makes a strangled noise that Dazai takes to mean agreement, because he goes on to say, "So! Odasaku. Final question....how do you tell someone you like them?"

Sakunosuke pauses. "I dunno? You just say it, I guess?"

Dazai purses his lips like he's in deep consideration. "Okay..." he says, with a single understanding nod. "Okay. I like you."

Sakunosuke nods back. "Yeah. Say it just like that."

Ango stands. Dazai turns his stool all the way around to fully face Ango, who pulls out his wallet in total silence and then abruptly freezes in place. "Okay, hear me out."

"You don't get to get out of this, Ango! Bet's a bet," Dazai singsongs.

"You know what? Double or nothing."

Dazai's brows raise. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Alright," Dazai offers a lazy shrug. "I could use a handout."

Sakunosuke thinks he should be more bewildered but Dazai flashes him a reassuring grin, and he trusts in that- will leave them to it. "So," he says with a hand on his neck. "How was my job performance?"

Dazai mutters something that sounds suspiciously like Odasaku is such a people pleaser. Ango says, "You passed with flying colors. Are we calling it a night?"

Dazai looks at Sakunosuke, but he looks at Dazai, sees Dazai offer a little grin, a tiny shrug. "The night's still young."

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Forty-Eight, “I’m Home”

*Not my gifs*

Clickable Links:

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Word Count: 7.6k words

Warnings: None

Music Inspo: Forever Like That by Ben Rector (click to listen)

                                     SNEAKYYYYYY PEEK

His eyes find mine first and I can’t tell if the sage green is blurring because my eyes deceive me, or that his betray him. Within seconds, it seems that both of our eyes have made a mess of themselves with tears, his shed onto my hand when he brings it to his lips with a kiss. I’m certain that he could taste mine when I steal a kiss from his lips, and those that water his neck with them, sure to not smudge the sentiment that waits to become permanent above his heart.

“Harry Styles,” I giggle nervously with hot cheeks, shaking my head as I stare at the floor, our intertwined hands blocking my view ever so wonderfully.

“My Rebecca Ann.”

Lifting them, my eyes find him like they always so easily do, and so do the divots that fall into his cheeks. The three words that I feel like repeating over and over to him fall again from his lips in a hushed whisper.

I love him more than I did just a second ago. Again.

"When I’m with her, I feel happy to be alive. Like I can do anything, even talk to you like this. So, that’s what I think love is. When I’m better because she’s here.” - Boy Meets World

+

“Reckon ‘ve neva seen a sight mo’ beautiful in me entire life.” 

“Sounds like you haven’t lived long enough then.” 

“‘m serious, Becks, yer absolutely gorgeous,” I exhale all in one breath, and with so many others wanting to spill out and join. “Yer everythin’, bug.” 

“Oh, hush.” 

“Or else, what, Becks? You’ll make me be quiet? Hmm, ‘d like t’ see you try that one, babe,” I tease, letting my nose drag along her cheek and my laugh float over to her ears. “Reckon yer takin’ too long. ‘m an impatient bloke, y’know.” 

It’s a tragedy to silence her lips budding with a bubbly laugh, but my, do they taste magnificent. Her smile does as well, and so does the song that ignites from my fingers as they run down her arms free of wires and tubes, albeit an annoying cast. 

“Meant it, y’know, that yer so beautiful,” I whisper against her mouth, lifting my head to punctuate my words with a kiss on top of her head. “You look good and seems like you feel that way, too.” 

“Mmmhmm,” she murmurs from below me, the corners of her rose colored lips curling into her cheeks. 

The pink has begun to return to them and so has her dimple indefinitely. It doesn’t compare to the fluttering inside of my chest at the sight of her ocean eyes peering up at me, the flecks of gold glimmering in the light. Admiring her seems to grow better as if climbing a mountain, because next, I get to enjoy the familiarity replaced with her wavy hair pooled over her shoulders. 

“I’m ready,” she exhales nervously, and the baby freckles dotting her cheeks blur in front of me. “Harry, don’t cry, or else you know that I will too.” 

“‘m sorry, ‘m jus’ so bloody happy,” I laugh, finding it hard to stop my lips from quivering as I look at her - the familiarity of the jeans and hoodie hugging her body, the new purple Vans bright on her feet, and the flicks of mascara she insisted on wearing even though she doesn’t need it. “‘m so unbelievably happy that I get t’ bring ya home, bug. Finally.” 

“Me too,” she croaks, a glistening tear falling into the divot of her dimple before collecting at her chin. They disappear from my view, both luckily and not, when she pulls me into her arms. I can’t complain about it, though. “Thank you. I could never say it enough for everything, Harry, you-.” 

“Yer welcome, Becks, forever and ever. No need t’ thank me, I know ya woulda done tha same fer me.” 

“I would have,” she whispers against my neck. I nod into her hair that my nose is smothered by in the best possible way, and it makes me wonder if you can overdose on the smell of orange blossoms and vanilla. It seems a happy drunkenness may come from smelling it, afterall. 

It’s a feat in and of itself to leave her arms, but it shrinks in comparison to the relief I feel at wiping her tears away, unsure of the last time I felt happy to do this, or this happy at all. 

“Shall we get goin’ then, love?” I ask her, thumbing at the imperfection in her cheek that could never be anything short of perfection to me. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” Becks nods. “But, one thing first.” 

“What’s that? I didn’t think ya wanted t’ spend anotha second in this place.” 

“I don’t, but one last kiss is okay,” she smirks and quickly, I’m tasting the absence of melancholy and pain in her kisses. I know that they still sit there, somewhere near, but I choose to ignore them at this moment and to pretend that I can kiss her sadness away. “Okay, now, we can leave.”

“I know ‘ve been waitin’ too long t’ do so . . look at you being a superhero and e’rythin’, bustin’ outta here within a week . . Let’s bring you home already, bug.”

+

It’s rather hard to get used to - not one, but two things. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to how beautiful she is and I thought she was a sight when we left the hospital, but damn, was I wrong. She keeps doing that, proving me wrong, always has. I like it more now than I did in the beginning. Now, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets in her bed, it really is by far the best sight. 

My glowing smile sputters and almost goes out completely when I sigh with a hand in my hair. I just had gotten used to the idea of her being in a hospital and trusting the nurses, and now here I am, her nurse. I liked the thought at first, but now that it’s happened and I’m here, it scares the daylights out of me. 

What if I do something wrong?

What if I, of all people, hurt her - elbow her in the stomach in the middle of the night, mess up her bandaging when I rewrap it, or worst of all, mess up her meds?

It all frightens me when I know fully well that I should be the happiest person on earth right now to have her home. But after she got over her bout of sickness, I kept waiting for something else to happen, and I’m still sitting on the edge of that seat, waiting. I never saw the accident coming, but I want to expect the next one, as if I could ever stop something like that from happening. Pffft, I’m no superhero. I don’t know who I think I am, but I know that I want to be everything she needs, and yet, deep down I never could be. 

“Harry?”

“Ya, bug? You alright?” I murmur, my hand falling to my side. “Ya need anythin’?”

“Eh, just for you to watch some FRIENDS with me,” she mumbles, cocking her body to look at me over her shoulder. The eagerness taut in her features melts away, and I straighten up, hoping that I didn’t blow my own cover.

“Alright, Harry?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine, Becks. Jus’ thinkin’ ‘m gonna hafta readjus’ me rules fer fallin’ asleep in the middle o’ watchin’ sumthin’ as we might both break that rule,” I quip, leaving my watch in the doorway to join her under the covers.

Worrying away at my bottom lip, I fail to ignore how that lie went over about as well as if she would’ve told it to me. I could be a good liar, but never to her, and the thought itself cements my insides with guilt.

Her laugh fills the dark with some light inside of me, and her famous toasty body nuzzles against mine.

“You’re sure?” Becks wonders aloud, and meeting her questioning gaze is overdue as I stare off into space.

“‘Bout what?” I reply, a V belatedly forming between my brows in wonder.

“If you’re alright. I’m sorry, but I don’t think that I believe you.”

“Oh, that,” I exhale with an ironic laugh that couldn’t be anything but sad. “Ya, I dunno if I believe meself eitha,” I answer at last, feeling much too sour to keep secrets from her that sprout into lies.

No, if I’ve learnt anything recently, it’s that life can flip you on your ass in a moment. I could lose her in a blink, and I very well almost did. The very last night that I want to be thinking is, ‘why did I tell her that silly little lie when I could’ve just grown a pair and told her the truth?’

“Harry, what’s the matter?” she speaks up, lulling the monsters away with her fingers scratching my beard. “I think you need a nap, you’ll feel better after some sleep, and in a bed.”

“No- I mean, ya. Yer right, but that’s not it.”

“What is it then? You can talk to me, love,” she says, and the sentiment weeds into my thoughts and greets my heart. 

“I jus’ . . I wanna be enough fer you, Becks, and I dunno if I can,” I confess gently, avoiding her intimidating gaze and instead, entranced by her twirling that braided ring.

“Harry, where’s this coming from? Why do you feel that way?” Becks sighs sadly, and within moments, I wish that I’d never said a thing.

“Nevamind, ‘s jus’ tha sleep deprivation talkin.’ Ignore, silly ol’ me.”

“No, I won’t ignore what you said, because it’s not true,” she replies firmly. The prickly wrapping of her arm cast rubs at my jaw when she turns my head to look at her. “I can’t force you to talk, and I don’t want to make you do anything, but . . I’m here, Harry. You’ve said that loads when I’m afraid or losing my shit . . and I dunno, it grounds me.”

“Thanks,” I smile slowly, feeling the words warm up on my tongue. “I want mo’ than anythin’ t’ take care o’ you and ‘m over tha moon happy yer home, but . . ‘m afraid I won’t do a well enough job, or that ‘ll mess it up.”

“You won’t, Harry,” she assures me, leaving circles drawn onto my cheek that may be invisible to everybody else, but me. 

“How d’ya know?”

“Because you’ve shown me how good you can take care of me, especially this week, and the whole two and a half years I’ve known you, Harry Styles,” she insists, leading my eyes back to hers. “I know you’ve told me it a hundred times, but I think it’s time you heard it too - everything is going to be okay. I’m okay, and you’re going to be okay.” 

I nod quickly, swallowing against a dry throat and feeling the slick swiping of her finger catch the tears. They don’t just stop there and proceed to drown her fingers, and then the fabric of her shirt when she drags me over to her and against her front. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she hums softly, zings of electricity left at the sight of her fingertips beside my spine. “This is the real scary part, huh? To come home and to act like everything is okay, and to return to real life . . I feel it too, it’s kind of suffocating . . but I know that we’ll get through this, taking care of each other. I’m not going anywhere, love.” 

“Thank you . . fer stayin . . fer bein’ here.’” 

“Always, Harry.”

++

“Always,” I murmur, gently breaking through the tangles found in his hair, falling like ribbons between my fingers. Licks of the vanilla and something musky waft from his hair when I press a kiss to the crown of his head. 

I let my heavy sigh fall into his curls as my cheek molds to his skull, a hummed song escaping my lips. It sings itself while I drag my fingers through his hair until there are no more snarls or tangles to be found, and my fingers ache from drawing circles into his back. The sniffling and sobs have ended finally, replaced by gentle snoring. His chest rising and falling against mine brings a quiet peace to me, and only now can I let my eyes fall shut, unsure if I feel heavier or lighter now. All that time where I was trying to heal, and even now, I was numb to the fact that he was breaking at my side, further and further. 

I hope that you’ll let me fix you, too, Harry.

+

Sunlight creeps in through the hastily drawn shades, leaving my eyes scoured with white patches in front of them. Blinking them away slowly, my gaze wanders to the covers I lay beneath and that take me a few moments to place. It all comes together, like puzzle pieces, as I watch my bedroom sharpen around me. I feel the smile tug at my lips when I find the tousled head of dark curls lying opposite of me. He’s more real than he was a second ago when his thickening beard rubs at the back of my finger, and his locks fall through my fingers. Creases form on his forehead and a light moan sounds from behind his lips. 

“Shh, go back to sleep, it’s okay,” I coo against his hair with a kiss, feeling my smile widen when his arms come around my middle. 

“So, this is real,” I whisper, tracing shapes through his Queen shirt, relishing the sleepy warmth he spreads across me. With a huff, my hands find new homes on his body and I let myself fall back to sleep, thinking of all of the other dreams I’d like to come true next.

+

Shoots and zings of pain awaken me the next time, followed by the creaking of the door and a different voice. 

“Ree, you awake?” somebody whispers from behind the door, but when I see the shock of green hair, I wonder how I could forget that face for a second. “Hey, morning- well, for one of you. It’s time for your meds, and I made some brekky. You should have your pills with it, I can bring some in for you.” 

“Morning . . No, it’s okay, I want to let him sleep. I think he needs it more than me, do you think you could help me up and out?”

“Sure thing,” she whispers, her pink bunny slippers making soft pat-pat noises on the hardwood floor. 

“Sweet dreams,” I wish ever so softly into his hair smelling of Sundays baking with my gran. Regrettably, my arms jelly like from sleep slide away from him, and I inch towards the other side of the bed. 

“That had to have been the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“Yeah, it’s like living in a dream,” I remark with a happy laugh, exhaling when my bum finds the cushions of the sofa. “If you would’ve told twenty-four year old that I’d be waking up to Harry in my bed at twenty six, I wouldn’t have believed you.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me, I wouldn’t have believed you, either,” Skye giggles, setting down a plate in front of me with a soft clatter, accompanied by the tap of a glass of orange juice. 

“Okay, Chef Robbins, how much do you think I can eat? I’m not bloody pregnant, now am I? I’m just injured, not eating for two here,” I quip, nevertheless picking up the fork and stabbing at a curd of scrambled eggs. 

“Don’t you even, you need to be getting your appetite back. I don’t expect anything less out of you - eating all of this. You have every damn food group on this plate, thank you very much - Harry would be proud.” 

“He would. What, did you blooming write up a food menu with him, or something?” I ask through a few bites of fluffy eggs. 

“No, but we did come up with a list of groceries together, so I reckon that’s fairly the same.” 

“You, go grocery shopping, since when?” I say, crumbs littering my fingers when I pick up the half slice of buttered toast, shoveling cheesy eggs onto them. 

“Since your bloody boyfriend bullied me into doing it.” 

“Hmm, I should’ve had him do that a long time ago,” I laugh, and it’s welcomed by the sound of her obnoxious one. “My bloody God, you’re going to wake him up with that honker of yours, you know that!” 

“Whoops, I better shut up. I need you all to myself for a change.” 

“Oh, hush up, you had me all to yourself for twenty years or so, reckon you can give me up for a little bit,” I jest, watching her wild bed head shake back and forth with her disagreement. “Also, when’d you become a cook? This is good.” 

“It’s eggs and cheese, no duh it’s good and it’s easy. Is he going to have any? There’s plenty more.” 

“I dunno, I want him to get some more sleep. The poor guy’s been sleeping on a sofa for the last week, for Christ’s sake.” 

“Fuck,” she sighs, biting into her toast with a crunch, leaving grape jam on her lips quite adorably. “Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.” 

“What?” I say, staring at the blobs of jam on her lips until I hear my name rasped from the other side of the room. “Harry. H-hi, good morning. There’s uh, breakfast if you want some.” 

“Oh, thanks. ‘ll use tha loo first.” 

“And maybe put a shirt on, or, maybe not after all,” Skye jokes under her breath, but loud enough for me to hear as I watch Harry disappear down the hallway enclosed by the kitchen’s back wall. Every inch of his sleepy body regrettably leaves my eyes, including the mess of bedhead on him, the lack of a shirt, and amongst other things, those green eyes that only relaxed when they found me. 

“Shut up, you creep!” I retort, failing to keep my chuckle to a low hush when her contagious laugh does its magic. 

“All I’m saying is that I’m not complaining about the new house guest,” she explains with a shrug of her measly shoulders, standing to her feet. “I guess I’ll give the happy couple some privacy and eat my brekky with Buffy in my room.” 

“Yeah, you go and pout, and leave my boyfriend alone in the hallway.” 

“I can’t promise anything!” Skye squeals, her slippered feet slowly becoming harder to hear. 

“Mmm, when’d ya wake up, bug?” somebody else asks, but I was ready and noticed him the moment his tall body walked back into frame. 

“Only a few minutes ago.” 

“Oh, how’re you feelin’? Did you take yer meds yet?” Harry questions, rubbing at his eyes on his way into the kitchen, too far away for my liking. 

“I’m fine, but sore. Skye woke me up in the middle of the night to take my meds then, and I’m just about to take some more. How fun.” 

“Oh, ‘m sorry I missed ‘em last night, Becks. I thought I set an alarm on my phone,” he yawns, his drowned out voice accompanied by the scraping of the pan. 

“Yeah, I turned it off after she had done it, because I wanted you to sleep. That’s why I didn’t wake you just now, you need to sleep more.” 

“I know, but ‘m okay. I woke up and saw you weren’t there, and I couldn’t fall back asleep.” 

“You’re cute when you’re all worried,” I joke, chewing the last bite of scrambled eggs as the sofa cushions dip underneath me. “And shirtless.” 

“Oh ya . . sorry ‘bout that. I mean it when I say yer a li’l heater, Becks, and with all o’ those blankets, I must’ve gotten too hot and taken me shirt off sumtime,” he explains with a shake of his head, the bright flesh of the strawberry contrasting to his bubblegum pink lips that surround it. Okay, Becky, it is too early and my brain is too foggy to be having these kinds of thoughts already today. “Alright, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. The strawberries just look so good,” I lie, picking up one and biting into the juicy fruit. I’m unsure of how to feel about the fib going over his head, but it’s whisked away when his cold toes playing footsie with mine instead nudge mine repeatedly. 

“Pills,” he insists from across me, nodding to the foreign looking organizer sat on the coffee table before me. 

“Yes, yes, Nurse Styles,” I exhale, leaning forward to grab them, but I stop when a tight pain radiates through my abdomen. 

“What’d I tell ya ‘bout bein’ careful, love? Ya can’t push yerself too hard now. Are you okay?” Harry coos, dropping his fork onto the plate sat on his lap, making quick work of grabbing the case for me. 

“I know, Dad.” 

“Now, what’d ‘d say ‘bout all that bein’ stubborn shit . . huh?” he rasps, voice framed by the clicking and clacking of the case opening and pills shaking about. 

“I know, I know, you’re just fun to tease.” 

“We know that too,” he answers, setting the case aside and clearing his throat a few times until I look at him. 

“What, do you not know how to use your words?” he only dips his head a little lower and sighs. 

“Watch tha mouth,” he huffs jokingly, dropping the slew of pills into my palm with a nod to my orange juice. 

“You never said anything about toning down the sass.” 

“Didn’t gather that I needed t’, Rebecca Ann, ‘ssa given,” he replies with his seesaw like shoulders helping him talk, finishing off the last few bites of his toast. 

With a groan, I pick up the heavy bottomed glass and between a few glugs of juice, swallow down the multitude of pills. I chase them down with a few more bites of strawberries and hash browns. 

“That betta not be all yer eatin’, Becks,” Harry tuts from my side, scraping his fork along the plate to gather the last scraps of eggs. 

“I’m done.” 

“No, yer not. Ya can be afta ya have two mo’ bites o’ p’tatoes, a strawb’rry, and finish yer juice,” he instructs, pointing his fork at the various food items. 

“Fine, Dad,” I grunt, returning the fork to my hands and doing as he says. “You know, I’d make some joke about how you’d be a good lawyer, or better yet, a good father being all bossy, if you weren’t getting on my nerves.” 

“That means ‘m doin’ me job then,” he chuckles softly from his perch on the sofa. “Hey, where d’ya think yer goin’?”

“What, I can’t go pee without you having to know that too?”

“Sorry,” he barely squeaks, looking away sheepishly from behind me. 

“It’s okay, just chill on the ‘hovering dad thing’ when you’re well, not a dad.” 

“I wouldn’t hafta act like yers if ya did what yer told with a li’l less attitude,” he bites back sarcastically, and I wish that he could see my eyes rolling from this far away. 

“I learned from only the best!” 

“Hey!” his protest meets my ears just as I close the bathroom door with a giggle, sighing when I get off my dodgy ankle to relieve myself.

+

“How upset are ya with me?” Harry coos, a creak heard behind him as he shuts my bedroom door. 

“I’m not upset. I’d just like a little more ‘friendly nurse’ and a little less ‘drill sergeant’ from you, is all.” 

“‘m sorry, bug, but we know both yer ‘bout tha most stubborn person we both know,” he explains, daring a few fingers to stroke my cheek. “C’mon, open ‘em up, Ocean Eyes.” 

“No.” 

“Becks,” he drawls with a feisty giggle, dragging his nose down the expanse of my cheek. “Y’know ya can’t stay mad at me fo’ too long, ya’ve never been able t’.” 

“Oh, wanna bet?” 

“Rebecca Ann,” he whines, bringing forth a giggle from my lips at his beard tickling my neck. 

“What, Harry Edward? I swear, we’ve known how to push each other’s buttons since the beginning.” 

“I don’t disagree,” he says in that breathy laugh. “C’mon, let’s have a cuddle, babe. You can’t deny me.” 

“Oh, wanna bet?” I chuckle, moving away from him, finding that this stupid arm cast of mine gets stuck everywhere and on everything. 

“Becks!” he scoffs with the most offended look on his face when he leaves my neck. “Be nice t’ me, ‘m jus’ tryna love on you, bug.” 

“I don’t disagree,” I quip, relishing in the eye roll I receive and fully deserve, and enjoying the happiness that trickles from my lips next. 

“C’mere, li’l one, yer bein’ a li’l shit again, I think I may have even missed it,” Harry says, the bed dipping under his weight as he returns me to his arms, draping the covers over us. “My bug,” he coos, following the nickname with a slew of kisses to my cheeks. 

I think I’ve almost made it, almost.

+

“Harry, would you stop it already?!” I groan, exasperated by the sound of shuffling items and the pew-pew of the spray bottle. 

“‘m almost done, Becks.” 

“That’s what you said half an hour ago, Harry! Ugh, stop cleaning already and come and watch FRIENDS with me. We both know you’re not really watching it when you’re cleaning, no matter what you say,” I sigh, flipping open the covers in invitation. He stands back up and his eyes cast over to me with a raised eyebrow. Both of mine inch towards my forehead in response, challenging him. “Harry Edward, I swear to-,” I wheeze, losing my control. 

“You swear what, huh, Rebecca Ann?” he responds, at last setting down the rag and cleaning spray on my desk that has never sparkled or looked so tidy as it does now, along with the rest of my bedroom. “Huh? Talkin’ a lotta shit, aren’t we? I swear t’ God, yer all bark and no bite,” he continues with a smile, the overhead light glinting on his gold cross necklace laid over his Beatles shirt that, much to my dismay, he slipped on after a shower this morning. 

“You wanna bet?”

“Ya, I do,” he says, his hands falling splayed onto the mattress in front of me. My God, is he a tease with those long muscular arms, and licking those rose colored lips.

Fuck. 

I can’t hold back anymore and press on the back of his neck, losing my fingers in the tight ringlets of hair sitting there, smiling into the kiss. 

“Hey, watch it!” he exclaims, pulling away quickly and sucking on his bottom lip that my teeth had just sunk into. “Bloody hell, remind me not t’ doubt you anymo’, you li’l shit.” 

“Your little shit,” I correct him with a smirk, pulling him closer by the neck and trying not to laugh at the shocked look on his face. 

“My, you are sumthin’, aren’t you, Becks? I betta watch out. I gotta strong one here . . atta girl,” his smile is the last thing I see before his lips return to mine. “Wait a second.” 

“What? I wanted to kiss you some more.” 

“Oh, stop whinin’, my li’l baby,” he titters, walking away much to my dismay and opening the door to my closet. “What have I found here, hmm? ‘s this a photo album o’ baby Becks?”

“Oh, you found that?” I giggle, yanking up the covers to my shoulders and enjoying my view of him crossing the room. There is just something else about a man in joggers, sigh. 

“Ya, when I was cleanin’. Looks like me hard work paid off afta’ all,” Harry says, sliding under the blankets with me. “What’re you starin’ at me like that fer?” 

“Nothing,” I sigh shyly, scooting over until my head finds his tummy and his arm finds the curve of my shoulders. 

“What’re you blushin’ ‘bout, li’l one?” he giggles from above me, laying his arm over the closed photo album. I only find that he’s forgotten it when I dare to peer up at him, and his eyes are waiting on me. 

“I just- I dunno,” I huff with my cheeks aching from shy smiles. “This is kind of all I ever wanted, give or take a few parts. Including the waking up to you shirtless in my bed, and looking all cute in comfy clothes.”

That breathy laugh sparks his lips into a smile again, followed by his bottom lip escaping to between his teeth nervously. 

“I don’t disagree,” he quips, and this time, I actually groan at how cheesy he can be. “Really tho’, Becks, I wanted all o’ this too. I dunno what t’ do with meself now that I have it all - get t’ wake up t’ you in tha mornin’, take care o’ you, spend me day watchin’ FRIENDS with you, and now, lookin’ at yer baby pictures with you. I can’t wait t’ see what our kids are gonna look like.” 

“Stop it, or I’ll cry again,” I croak, swatting at his chest, but it’s nothing more than a tap. 

“I hope those are happy ones,” he whispers into my hair, and a small laugh joins the tears running over my lips. “Bloody hell, think I might spill a few as well. Look at these, were you tha cutest baby or what?” Harry sighs happily after opening the book to a random page, lifting it to get a better look at a photo of four-month old Robbie and me in matching Winnie the Pooh Halloween costumes. Looking up at him, something twinkles in his eye and in his cheeks where the dimples sit lower than ever. 

I hope oh so badly that our babies have those dimples of his. Someday.

Until then, I’ll soak up these days of waking up to him, hopefully shirtless, and falling asleep together watching our favorite show, and wondering how it could get any better.

+

Every day seemed to run into the next, and in the best way possible, don’t get me wrong. I got to wake up to Harry beside me, toasty in my bed, and due to that, absent of a shirt and I was not complaining. No, siree. Some body parts still hurt quite a bit, but slowly they hurt less and less, and through that time we got our routine down. Pills three times a day and then twice, Skye helped me with showers, physical therapy three times a week, my ankle became more steady, I could stay awake for longer periods at a time without needing a nap like a growing puppy, and quickly, I was fighting Harry for the last sausage or cookie. 

He was enjoying it too, I could just tell. I would bet a lot of money that he couldn’t be enjoying it as much as me, though. 

To say that I didn’t get sick of him would be a lie, because oh, were there moments. First, there was his incessant cleaning to keep him busy, which luckily was remedied by his Zoom meetings for work that he’d take in the living room once a day while I napped. Secondly, I swear he watched me and closely as I ate, and it got annoying very fast. The naps and Zooms helped loads though, as did the few times he went home to grab different clothes, do laundry and the like, and go grocery shopping, but even then I missed him a little bit. As soon as he left because I got sick of him, I wished he would come back, and that’s how it went again and again.

+

The cold bites at my cheeks, sure to have left them rosy and wind chapped. Not quickly enough, the car begins to warm up and so do I. 

“Alright?” he says with a warmth to his voice that curls around my icy bones. Turning in my seat, I find his lips pinker than ever as he rubs the feeling back into my arm, my free one. Nodding at him, he returns it before pulling the seat belt over him and checking his mirrors. 

“Are you?” I ask, a few moments after he had begun to drive. 

“Mmmhmm,” he responds, kneading at his lips once we arrive at a red light, briefly meeting my eyes but not holding them. 

“You’re . . acting weird, Harry,” I say slowly, unsure of my words and how he’ll receive them. “I’m the one still getting nervous about being in a car, so what’s your excuse?” 

“Nuthin’ . . ,” he insists, grabbing hold of my hand when the light turns green, twirling the bracelet around my wrist absentmindedly. “‘Kay . . I was wonderin’ if we could stop somewhere befo’ we go home. Y’know, if yer not too tired afta P.T. jus’ now.”

“No, I’m good- I mean, yeah, we can. Preferably, if I can sit down at this place you’re going after that workout I just had.” 

“I think that can be arranged,” Harry grins, avoiding my prying eyes that search for a hidden meaning in his words. Narrowing my eyes, I squint at him, hoping that will help me to decode his answer, but I come up empty. Sighing, I look away, unsure of why he isn’t letting me read him this one time, but forgetting it after I remember how unbelievably handsome he’s looking with the beard and ochre colored beanie pulled over his curls. “Stop starin’ at me, woman,” he titters, and I only reply with a confused shake of my head.

+

Sighing, I pull my phone from my pocket and find the absence of new texts, still. A smile tries at my lips when I revisit my screensaver that I gloss over at times, a giggly selfie from bed with Harry. I trace the dimples in his cheeks and the smile pinching them before letting it fall back into my pocket. 

The shelves of items and hangers of clothes don’t do anything for me, nothing jumping out at me to buy it, and so I wander on to the next little shop, a bakery. Soon, a gooey cinnamon roll occupies my time as I wait, wait, and wait. 

“What’s taking you so long, Harry?” I grumble under my breath, finding a seat in the corner of my favorite little coffeeshop down the street. It feels good to get off my ankle that still bothers me at times. Setting down my hot chocolate, the cinnamon roll stills in my hand when I look up and find my familiar view. 

If I look hard enough, the sun is streaming in through the windows and that Bon Iver song is trickling from the speakers again. The mystery novel is sitting in front of me, beside a half empty mug of coffee, and there he is. He’s making jokes with the barista at the front, arms folded over the tall flat surface where outgoing drinks are placed for pick up. My heart could do it again, race incessantly like a horse out of its gate, and I’d likely remain glued to this seat, unwavering but not unwanting. 

Dinggggg! 

Blinking, I’m jolted from the memory by a sound, and suddenly, the sun isn’t leaking into the coffee shop and he isn’t standing there, belonging to somebody else anymore like I had dreamt about last night. My nightmares sure are getting creative these days, drudging up old memories from last summer, the summer from Hell. They must be drying up if they have to resort to the time I saw him in this coffee shop after he’d starting dating somebody else, the day I felt shocked in my seat dying to say hi to him, but more afraid than ever. It feels like another person then, to be afraid to go up to Harry and to say hi, but that’s how it all was. It’s how it all felt, and how I was feeling. He felt like another person entirely and so did I, as if strangers.

Shaking my head and then grimacing at the slight ache that it still holds, I glance down at my phone to find the text that I’ve been waiting for. 

sorry it took me so long bug. i hope ya found something u liked at one of the shops, or coffee, knowing u ;) i’m guessing ur at the coffee shop still from ur snapchat, so if u turn the left corner, and go down to the end of that block, you’ll find me there ;) see u soon baby

I can’t hide the smile that sticks to my lips as I leave with the cinnamon roll tucked safely into my hands, but it wavers when I come across the shop he speaks of. I double check and I triple check before finding his Range Rover parked a few yards away, telling me that this is the place. How odd, I think, as the bell tinkles overhead and the classic rock music greets me. 

It only takes me a few moments to find him, waiting on a brown leather sofa in a waiting room of sorts, wringing his hands in his lap. Uh yeah, I can only think of one reason why, and no more than that. I can’t tell if the anxiousness painting his body worsens or remains the same when he spots me in the doorway, standing to his feet and taking my hand. 

“Hey, that’s mine!” I exclaim, grabbing for the last bite of the cinnamon roll that he steals from me. “Harry!” I sigh, watching him feed it between his lips, but he leaves one last bite pinched between his fingers. 

“Oh, ya want this?” he smirks, holding it out for me. I inch forward and am surprised with a messy kiss that tastes of cinnamon and sugar, sparking a song behind my lips. “Here, baby Becks,” he coos, feeding it to me at last before he tugs on my hand to follow him. 

“Harry, what’s going on? Why are we here? Why are you here, or do I even need to ask?” 

“I thought ya graduated top o’ yer class, so ya should know why we’re here, Ms. Lawyer. Use yer deductive reasonin’ skills, Becks - why do ya deduce we’re at a tattoo shop?”

“Harry,” is all I say, voice absent of anything and everything as I follow him down a short hallway, and into a room that resembles a doctor’s office. It’s not much bigger, but is a spitting image with the massage parlor looking black bed-table-thingy. 

“Matt, this ‘s Becks, and Becks, this ‘s Matt,” Harry says, and a tall man turns around and shines his pearly whites at me. “He’s been doin’ me tattoos fer awhile now, best artist I know.”

“H-Hi, nice to meet you.” 

“You as well, I’ve heard a lot about you over the years,” Matt responds warmly, waving over to a comfy looking black office chair against the wall. Harry has already helped himself to the massage parlor looking thing, and his North Face and jumper have found their way off of him, too. “I hear you’re the reason we’re here today.” 

“Wait, I am? What?” I answer, eyes flitting over to Harry’s. I’m sure of the alarm that blazes in them, and the flames only grow higher when he lets go of my hand. I can’t say that they die down when he slides off his long sleeved shirt dotted with nineties Nickelodeon tv shows, showing the entire room his sculpted torso and inked arms. The sage in his eyes warms and he scoops my hand up again, squeezing it and rubbing hearts into the back of my hand. 

“Ya ready t’ see what ‘m gettin’, Becks?” Harry grins ever so proudly, I don’t think that his grin could be any more shit eating than it is right now.

The moments follow and they pass as Matt takes out a piece of what looks like tissue paper on it with purple ink, the design obscured from my eyes. The last thing he does before leaving is to press it to the blank slate above Harry’s heart, and slowly peels it away, revealing the image to me at last. 

His eyes find mine first and I can’t tell if the sage green is blurring because my eyes deceive me, or that his betray him. Within seconds, it seems that both of our eyes have made a mess of themselves with tears, his shed onto my hand when he brings it to his lips with a kiss. I’m certain that he could taste mine when I steal a kiss from his lips, and there are those that water his neck with them, sure to not smudge the sentiment that waits to become permanent above his heart. 

“Harry, is that-,” I begin at last after pulling away from him, my hand falling from his cheek slick with tears. 

“Mmmhhm, ‘s yers,” he answers with a definitive nod, several meanings encapsulated in his words, but I take with me only a few. My fingers trace above his skin the four numbers, ever so familiar to me. “Yer handwritin’, Becks.” 

“Why 2024?” I wheeze, wiping away the lingering tears, knowing that they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. As I speak them, the answer rings behind my eyes, but I wait for his answer.

“‘Cuz,” he answers, like it’s ever so obvious, willing my eyes back to his waiting pair. “I know this year’s only started, and ‘s been a bit o’ a shit show t’ say tha least, but ‘s tha year that brought you back t’ me, and let me keep you. ‘ll be grateful t’ it forever, and t’ you, Becks.” 

“I love you,” I whisper, not having decided to say the words and yet, there they are, spilling themselves to his ears. 

“I love you, baby, mo’ than anythin’,” he giggles happily, a tear breaking free from his eye to course down his cheek. His beard is ticklish against my temple where his lips litter kisses and love, the reason those very numbers are about to become permanent right where his heart lives under his chest. “I found a grocery list you had written tha other day, and I dunno- I jus’ loved tha way you wrote tha year and how those numbas meant so much . . and mo’ importantly, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout how I wanted t’ forget all o’ this . . yer accident. So, instead o’ forgettin’, I wanna remember this bumpy start we’ve had, by this, havin’ yer writin’ on me fer me life.”

“Harry Styles,” I giggle nervously with hot cheeks, shaking my head in disbelief as I stare at the floor, our intertwined hands blocking my view ever so wonderfully. 

“My Rebecca Ann.” 

Lifting them, my eyes find him like they always so easily do, and so do the divots that fall into his cheeks. The three words that I feel like repeating over and over to him fall again from his lips in a hushed whisper at Matt’s return. 

“Are we ready to get this show on the road?”

Harry nods at me with a questioning look, and I nod at him, squeezing his hand. 

“Alrighty then, let’s do it,” Matt announces with enthusiasm in his voice, something that wanes inside of me at the prospect of seeing Harry in pain. 

If he can do it, going through about as much hell as I did after that car hit me, then I can at least do this. The insane amount of flattery and the overwhelming love that radiates off of him as the tattoo gun begins to buzz, helps to soften the blow. 

I love him more than I did just a second ago. Again.

+

It smells the same, and sounds like before. I welcome the familiarity, but a shy nervousness sits in the corner of my mind, and deep down, inside of my gut. An excitement tries to overtake it up there, and I wait on the sidelines to see what will happen. 

The thought is whisked away when there’s a whisper of a touch against my temple, and my body bumps habitually into his, seeking safety. Blinking hard and looking upwards to my left, I find a smile waiting in those molten sage eyes. 

“Alright, bug?” Harry coos, leaning down to press his lips to mine briefly. I nod in reply, waving my thumb over his jawline hidden in thick facial hair, a sight I never thought I’d see inside of these four walls. “Are ya ready t’ get back into tha thick o’ it, Becks?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s about time that you let me come back, I’ve been going mad sitting at home having nothing to do for the last few weeks, and especially since you’ve been back part time since last week,” I answer, the song he sings joining that of my own when his fingers brush against my ribs that don’t ache from his touch anymore, and his nose nudges at my temple that doesn’t hurt when I laugh too hard. 

“Hey, I know that, but I wanted t’ make sure ya wouldn’t over exert yerself and yer arm ‘s still gettin’ all caught up bein’ in that cast fer awhile. Also, I rememba a certain sumbody practically forcin’ me t’ come back, I didn’t have much say over tha matter. Hmmm, I can only wonder who that’d be,” he jests, and all hints of my poker face run away from me as he raises his eyebrows at me. The very pair he let me have my way with the other day, which lasted about five seconds before he started whining, even though the woosey has fresh ink on him.

“I know, you’re still being Daddy Harry,” I sigh dramatically, its ending found in a deep chuckle that he elicits from my lips with a surprise bear hug. His laugh drips with molasses too, and I feel like this couldn’t taste any sweeter, my arms hidden under his blazer and nudging at his belt. 

“I’ll manage.” 

“I know ya will, ya always do . . my Becks. ‘ll be there t’ help too,” Harry smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of my head as the electronic number reaches to twelve above our heads. My head falls to the crook of his neck where it’s longed to be . . for such a long time. Years. His solid arms filled with safety lift from me and return once they wrap his violet blazer around me, and only do I close my eyes when his lips find a temporary home on the top of my head. “Y’know, I dunno what t’ call you now - mentee, colleague, girlfriend.” 

“You can just call me either or, boss boyfriend,” I suggest, meeting his glowing green eyes while an electronic ding sounds overhead, signaling another floor passed. 

“Sounds good t’ me, Rebecca Holte,” he hums, a corner of his mouth curled into his cheek and sharing that happy dimple with me. The chipped black nail polish teases at my sight when his thumb runs over the brand new scars dotting my cheeks that he’s healed with his kisses. “Ya betta make this one last fer a while now, we have a meetin’ right off tha bat,” he says firmly with raised eyebrows, but a smile teases at its corners. 

Standing on my tiptoes, I lean forward and close my eyes, seeing the glinting flecks of gold in his eyes as I taste the honey on his lips. It’s hidden in the words that pass unspoken between our lips, cut short by the declarative beeps and the number sixteen waiting atop, seventeen just around the corner. With a giggle, I steal one last peck from his lips, and watch as he shakes his head after my wandering hand squeezed his bum. 

“C’mon, you li’l shit,” he mutters with a roll of his eyes, adjusting the strap of his shiny, new messenger bag strewn across his chest. “Or would ya ratha I say, ‘shall we, Becks?” Harry asks, holding out a hand in front of us, and I nod. 

“Let’s go, boyfriend,” I say with a large smile, catching the wink he gives me as our shoes click and clack on the marbled black tiling of the firm’s floors. 

Now, I have.

I’ve really made it now.

I thought I had once or twice before, but this is it. I have it all, and more is on the way, and no longer are the dreams out of arm’s reach. No, they’re right there where I can touch them, and so is a very special one that won’t stop smiling at me, and I wouldn’t ever want to stop smiling at him.

Another thing I’m sure of is that I’d never want to stop listening to the song that flows from his lips, I could listen to it for the rest of my life.

                             THE END . . FOR NOW

Don’t miss Harry and Becks’ future adventures in the sequel to The Assistant, The Partner, coming soon! Until then, you can catch up with Hecky when The Firsts, an Assistant Blurb Series, begins September 14th at 12pm CST! Keep an eye out for the masterlist post for The Firsts, to be published soon! I could never thank all of you enough for reading and for sticking around this long with me. I am so excited to continue this series and for you to see what’s coming ;) See you in two weeks!

[raiswanson]

Character Ask Game

Tagged in by @etjwrites to answer some questions from this tag game, and like the overachiever I am.....I’m just going to answer them all. :D

Let’s interview Rewill shall we?

1) if they could choose a new name, what would they choose?

[Rewill leans forward and looks directly into the camera] How about one that the author can pronounce consistently. That sounds like fun.

2) what’s a surefire way of making them happy?

Lots of things make me happy. Game night, spending time with friends, going to the diner back on Victorious. Look, I know the food looks like absolute ass but it’s good, I promise, once you get past the chalkiness of the powdered eggs they aren’t so bad, and the ham isn’t really so tough once you get used to it--Okay why are you looking at me like that. Fine, no diner special for you then, judgeypants.

3) what’s a surefire way of making them sad?

Well...again, lots of things. The usual things, I suppose. People being rude or aggressive for no reason, looking at the state of things in the outside world, seeing things in the news about the cruise starship “accidents”...I don’t...really want to get into this subject, if that’s alright.

4) what do they do when they feel sad?

What, you mean other than cry my eyes out? I dunno, I guess I talk less? Jiy always says I veer between dead silence and doubling my sass, but I don’t really see it. I just mope around feeling miserable until I get out of my funk.

5) how do they choose their friends?

That’s easy. I look around for someone interesting and go “that one. I’m going to talk to that one” and then I hang around until my endless charm wins them over and can’t bear to be away from me. It’s what I did with Maika! [sound of a fist banging furiously on the interview window] She’s a work in progress. But I’ve almost got her, I can tell.

6) what kinds of food do they like?

I like what everyone refers to as “space trash”, but they’re just snobs. There’s nothing wrong with a good old fashioned hot dog from a food district stand, or a greasy burrito from a shady little joint in the back end of the manufacturing quarter, okay? Way out here in space the stuff you can get there is just as fresh as whatever you got at your fancy restaurant, and you can’t get that flavor anywhere else.

7) who is the person closest to them?

Jiy. We’ve been together since we were small, and we’ve been through a lot. We share...mostly everything, and what we don’t share the other can usually kind of sense?

8) what kinds of music do they listen to?

I like all sorts of music, but anything with energy you can dance a tango to has a special place in my heart. Personal sentiment, you understand. That and whatever’s going on with those old school scifi films. That electro...synth...thing. I love that.

9) if logistics and money weren’t an issue, what kind of animal would they keep as a pet? (includes fantastical animals like dragons as well btw)

Hmm. I might have said dragon before all of this started, but I think that might be disrespectful to Pry? I wouldn’t call him a pe-- [Rewill pauses, staring straight ahead, then turns to scowl at the door] I am not your pet, Pry, don’t be rud--Lok, I’m pretty happy with the android hounds I have back on the ship. They’re polite and don’t get sassy with me and I wouldn’t dream of anything else.

10) what does the landscape of their mind look like?

Uhhh, probably not a lot like most, considering all the hardware I’ve got in there. It varies between a blank dark space with floating thoughts, and a literal console screen full of memory folders and input/output and stuff. It depends.

11) why do they like themselves?

Because I’m awesome? I’m an absolute delight and joy to be around. I bring light to every room I enter, enthusiasm to every task, and my smile could power an entire field of solar panels. What’s not to like?

12) what do they dream of doing if they had anything and everything open to them?

I’ve always wanted to travel. Like, through space, I mean. I’ve always wanted to be out there, but first I had Jiy to look after, and then Mach’s crew had to stick to the area for obvious reasons...but I dunno. I want to go out and see what’s out there. Everything is so big. I want to explore it all.

13) what fashion choices do they make? do they go more for comfort or style?

I enjoy a blend of both. I like to look good, but it I can’t move around easily I won’t go for it. That’s why I usually for a nice spacer suit and a jacket, maybe a utility belt if I need to carry a few extra things. I don’t really understand the fashions on the colonies, and up on the stations it’s really just suits or absolutely wild eyesores. I just want to be able to do my job and not get my ten foot long train covered in every snaggly material under the sun caught on every door I try to walk through, you get me?

14) if they had to go somewhere without a map, what’s the likelihood that they would make it there without getting lost?

I’m pretty good with following directions without a visual aid. You kind of have to be in my line of work--if you sneak into a cruise ship to swipe something from the vault and pop out in a room full of guards, you don’t get very far, you know? I can find my way around. I’ve always had a good head for it.

15) what types of people do they attract?

People like me, I guess. People that have an inherent need to help out and stand up for the people around them. Oh, and smart-talkers. Can’t forget that. Everyone around me is always full of wisecracks. Seriously, they never stop. It’s always aimed at me, too. Help.

16) what types of people are they attracted to?

Well, looking at my track record, apparently that would be people that can beat me up and trash talk me while they do it, hahaha. But seriously, I think I just like people. It’s a problem. Jiy used to get really jealous until I convinced him I only had eyes for him~

17) what is their greatest fear?

Ah. Yeah. I suppose part of that’s already happened, so I guess...losing Jiy. I can’t even...imagine...what I’d do if that happened. Even after all the close calls we’ve had, just thinking about it makes it hard to breathe and sets my heart rate off, and--yep, there it goes, I’m seeing malfunction warnings now, what did I tell you?

18) what kinds of body modifications would they do if they could? (e.g. tattoos, dyeing hair, piercings, etc.)

Ahh, ha, yeah, I think I’ve had enough of those for a lifetime. Considering how much of my is either metal internally or something hooked through my skin, I’m about done with making personal tweaks. I used to have a few more tattoos before, but after I got the synthetic stuff I never really bothered to replace them. I’ve thought about it, but...eh?

19) what are they insecure about?

I think I come on a little strong sometimes? Sometimes I wonder if I’m pushing too hard and no one wants to speak up about it. Or that I’m speaking over people and not realizing it. I think I’ve spent half my life hearing Jiy tell me otherwise, but, I still wonder.

20) how do they treat people/beings who have less power than them?

Power is kind of hard to quantify, isn’t it? Someone less physically strong might be able to run me in circles with another method, and vice versa. Someone with political power can still be taken down if you play your cards right and sweep it out from under them. Erm. I guess what I’m trying to say is I wouldn’t really consider anyone as having “less” power than me, so I can’t really answer that question. I’d treat them like I treat anyone else, because that’s who they’d be. Just another person.

And the tag games tag list!! You can answer either a few of all of the questions, go nuts!!

@helenpowers | @typeaadventures | @tundra-tiger | @jesse-is-inarguably-purple | @inkandkeyboard | @lilymaidofgallifrey | @booksaremymeth | @otramble | @dqwrites | @jade-island-lives | @jaidynwrites | @lady-redshield-writes |  @authorloremipsum | @thewitchthetimeladythehuntress | @midgardianthief | @sincerestaffect | @universalfanfic | @siarven | @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword | @authordai | @vulpixofwin | @incandescent-creativity | @dove-actually | @fictionshewrote | @ren-c-leyn | @kirabauthor |  @etjwrites | @homesteadchronicles | @asttralwriting  

[madgalina-ristovic-voldaren]

Madgalina Ristovic of the Voldaren Bloodline: Origins Part 1

Firebelchers spat flames into the faces of those they were there to entertain, and as the victims screamed out in pain, the room erupted into laughter.  The entertainees, realizing that they had become the entertainers proceeded to rush at their instigators.  A loud crunch marked the beginning of the fight as a victim, his face somehow still bathed in flame, slammed his forehead into the bridge of a firebelcher’s nose.  Laughter turned to cheering as blood splattered into the spreading flames.

It took until then for Madgalina to realize it may have been a bit of a mistake coming to a full fledged Rakdos party.  In any other environment, she would have claimed that these were good people; she knew a good chunk of the attendees to work as high grade caterers to the still living higher ups of the Orzhov Syndicate.  Now they wrestled in fire and blood trying to kill each other both out of spite, and just for the hell of it.  At least the fighting was entertaining, she decided as she took a swig of whatever concoction was placed in the punch bowl.  She noted a hint of iron and genuinely wondered if someone spiked the alcohol with blood, or if someone happened to spike blood with alcohol.

She was strongly alerted when someone tapped gently on her shoulder in such a way that meant that the tapper had to genuinely try to make the tap a gentle tap.  Madgalina turned around with an air of annoyance, fully prepared to fight the intruder on her privacy.  “Ristovic?” The intruder asked.  He was a rather large man, with an equally sizeable mustache that hid his upper lip enough to make it a genuine question of just how many teeth he was missing.  Madgalina was glad that she had enough of a heel on that he wasn’t noticeably taller than her.  “I didn’t actually think you would have been able to make it tonight.  I mean, you said yes, but your mother has had a tendency to try and over protect you…”

Madgalina knew Gustavo would continue to ramble on about nonsense even if she tried to change the subject.  There was a reason he was kept exclusively in the kitchens.  She simply smiled back in a way that to anyone actually inclined, they would know she was annoyed, and she remembered back to the one time that they allowed Gustavo to carry food from the kitchens to the clientele.  There was a reason he’s missing teeth.

The next series of thoughts that passed through Madgalina’s head were not necessarily thoughts that she was proud of having; chief among these was her wondering if just maybe, Gustavo could go without having any teeth, or maybe even a lower jaw.  She was saved from violence, however, as another party entered the conversation.  He was old, for a goblin, and at first observance, quite tall, but alas, he stood expertly on stilts, and the checkerboard design on his shirt gave him away as being a circus regular.  “So, this is the Ristovic I’ve heard so much about.”  The goblin’s voice was broken in such a way that told that he’d taken way too many hits to the voice box.

“I don’t know what you would have heard about me,” Madgalina replied with a sense of aloofness.  “I just work in the kitchens.”

“So, you are the Ristovic I was looking for.  You see, I’ve heard tell of your skill with knives, and that you don’t cut the meat in the boring usual way.  Now, is that true?”  The goblin had put her in a corner.  On the one hand, Madgalina was very proud of her skill with knives and the playful tricks she would do with them, on the other hand, she didn’t know what the goblin was getting at.

Gustavo saved her from having to make the decision for herself as he blurted, “Oh, you have no idea what she can do, it’s glorious, like, she does so much, and you should see what the meat looks like when she’s done, like, it makes even the poorly cooked stuff at least look decent and…”

Madgalina jabbed her elbow into Gustavo’s gut, which may have been a slight mistake as she forgot she was wearing an outfit that had blades strapped everywhere.  “I suppose,” she answered the goblin as she yanked her blade from her coworkers chest, “that you could say I know knives.

The goblin didn’t speak for a good minute as he watched Gustavo’s blood drip from Madgalina’s elbow.  “So, uh...how would you feel about joining the circus.”

Madgalina laughed.  “How about, no?”

As the goblin backed away in shame upon his stilts he shouted, “The offer is still on the table if you change your mind!”  Madgalina scowled and turned away, distracting herself by watching the fiery fight going down not even 20 feet away and considering getting involved.

Around the time she was preparing to actually get involved in anything a couple devils wheeled in a massive cake.  They obviously burned the frosting, and the whole thing looked like a wreck.  Even Madgalina was wise enough not to cook and bake while inebriated.  Things were followed by a pack of goblins running out of the kitchen area with pots of burning oil and throwing it everywhere.  Once the flames hit the cake, Madgalina knew things were about to go very wrong as a low hissing sound erupted from the cake just moments before it exploded with enough force to destroy the entire block.

Madgalina watched as the erupting flames rushed at her in what seemed like slow motion, and then she felt a pull and everything faded to black.  Her senses told her nothing, and that was a bit much for her as her entire sense of balance was thrown out the window.  As tears began to wet her eyes she figured that this was what death was, and she began to apologize.  She apologized first to her mother, for having sneaked away from home to go to that party.  She apologized to her girlfriend who would probably never see her again.  She apologized to Gustavo for stabbing him and generally hating him, but she knew that one was insincere, she didn’t care about Gustavo.

She closed her eyes to hold everything in.  Her life was over, “So, this is it,” she muttered to herself; and then her feet landed on solid ground and she felt a drop land on her shoulder.  Opening her eyes she found herself standing in a slow drizzling rain on the edge of a forest.  Above her a moon shone bright, and she could feel it like a magical essence just oozing with power.  Not too far off in the distance was a large castle.  Reaching out with her hand, she caught some rain.  It was soft, not at all like the dirty rain on Ravnica that was poisoned with Izzet smog.

Approaching the castle, Madgalina realized how threatening she looked with her assortment of blades and other sharp things everywhere, but still she pressed on toward the massive fortification and slammed her fist into the door, and then proceeded to wait.  The door opened leading into a massive hall, warmly lit and decorated with very lavish fashion, and filled with people who stood still and stared.  Everybody was dressed in a very high fashion and was very pale.  Madgalina waved a shy wave with her left hand and started trying to explain her situation.  “Hey, so it looks like I’m a bit lost, but you all seem very busy, so I think I’ll just...go,” she spoutted as she began backing her way back into the rain.

A woman’s call stopped her dead in her tracks.  “Oh, child.  Why don’t you just stay?  You look absolutely famished.”  The speaker came floating out from the back of the room, her bare feet hovering above the polished floor; red hair spilled from her head.  Madgalina felt compelled to listen and trust this woman.

“I suppose I could stay until I figure things out, and yes, famished.  Mm hmm,” She felt herself saying as the woman led her in.

“Say,” The woman said with a question in her tone, “I must daresay that I smell a hint of blood on your breath.”

“Uh, yeah.  Someone spiked the drink bowl, I think.”

“Fascinating,” The woman replied as she led Madgalina away from the large hall.  The duo stopped before what Madgalina assumed may have been a servant, but the mode of dress made her unsure.  “Darling, please show our new guest to my quarters.  I shall be there soon,” And thus Madgalina was led away.

The woman returned to the main party to find that a new guest had entered.  He stood tall and a black coat covered his dark chestplate.  His hair was as pale as his skin, and his voice echoed with power and frustration.  “Olivia,” He shouted, “what have you done with the visitor?”

Olivia floated over to the newcomer, her red hair trailing behind her.  “Sorin, why, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“I’m not in the mood for games.”

“You never are,” Olivia shot back before he could continue.

“Where is the visitor, Olivia?  She doesn’t belong here.”

Olivia grabbed a wineglass from a partygoer and began to sip from it.  “Now I remember why I didn’t invite you.  What’s her importance to you?”

“She could be a potential threat to Innistrad, I must check my suspicions.”

“Hmm,” Olivia hummed, “let’s make a deal then.  I continue having to put up with your stupid pet that you won’t let me touch, and you let me play a little bit of fetch with my own dog.  Now leave, you’re ruining the atmosphere.”

As Olivia made her way to the room where Madgalina was taken, gears turned in her head.  Throwing open the door she shouted out at her visitor, “How would you feel about joining the ageless ruling class of Innistrad?”

Madgalina simply sat on the edge of a bed covered in the finest linen and shrugged. “Sound fun, I guess.”

Tagging people I feel would be interested.

@baldore-of-the-boros @vorthosthewillis @ like, anyone else, I dunno.