#i know I said he doesn’t let the cats in the house BUT that’s Martha she’s special

[ovrarches]

Missed ur flower au😭🤍

Also love ur cane thomas hc to it, it gave me ideas to my personal aus<33

I love your AUs<3

Cane Thomas you will always be famous!!!

(it’s the fuck you bouquet from that one tumblr post)

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 15. Frosty Glass

Pairing: Gruber x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: Small village in the English countryside

Continuation of: 14. Icy Roads

A/N: So yesterday Anna-Louise and Hans met for the first time, both seemingly instantly connecting on some other level. So, let’s see what happens today between plastic santas and a sassy old lady, shall we? 🥰💚

+A/N: AND IT'S ANOTHER BLOODY LONG ONE - WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?! 😭👍 I was hoping to have everything written for the prompts up until nr.19 today since my dad is coming over to celebrate Christmas this weekend but here I am, just having finished this one... I am terrible at containing myself and it's biting me in the ass right now 😂

Tags/TW’s: Dysfunctional Family, Self-worth Struggle, Repressed Emotions, Abandonment Issues, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Fluffy Feels, Finding One’s Courage

Word Count: 4.7k+

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

“Lulu! There’s no cookies!” dad shouted from the kitchen while I tried to dress the tree and keep sis’s blasted cat out of it simultaneously. Ferdinand was a menace on his best days, Christmas always turned into a blood bath, my hands and arms scratched up from chasing him out of the tree, out of the curtains, away from the presents — it was never-ending.

“Coming!” “Get the minty ones!” he shouted while I tried to hang the tinsel without Ferdinand getting the other end of it. “Sure thing, dad!” “Not those peppermint ones! The minty ones! The green ones!” “Oh my god,” I sighed under my breath. “Yes, dad! I KNOW!” “Oy! Don’t you take that tone with me, lassie!” “Why can’t you go your bloody self for once?” I muttered under my breath while stepping down from the stool.

Mum would have liked this tree, I thought with a smile of relief and pride. “Quite gorgeous if I do say so-, FERDINAND! NO!” The cat was already halfway up the tree, swatting at the tinsel before I could grab him. The cat shrieked and hissed, sinking their claws into my hands repeatedly. “Bloody hell, stupid cat!” Ugh, it’s not your fault but sod off, kitty!

I sat him down on the couch, knowing full well the second I’d leave the room he would be right back up in the tree. “Feral thing,” I hissed and he looked at me with those big eyes that I just couldn’t stay mad at even if my hands stung and were spotted with tiny droplets of blood from his sharp claws.

I washed my hands and grabbed my coat, hearing Ferdinand in the tree before I went out the door just as sis called my name in that tone that could only ever mean she wanted something from me. I didn’t stick around to find out what.

The afternoon was clear and bright despite the clouds hanging low in the sky. The wind had died down at lunch and it hadn’t snowed since last night. So, truthfully, it wasn’t so bad to be out of the house — even if it were on yet another errand for someone else who was too lazy to go themselves. Doesn’t matter, the weather is good, there’s not much people and there’s salt and gravel on the sidewalk so no slipping about today.

I didn’t dare think more of it as Hans had been on my mind nearly constantly since I had basically bolted away from him. Not even affording the man a chance to say goodbye as the conversation had hit too close to home when he asked such a direct question about my own perception of myself, my value. Are all Germans so direct and blunt?

I opened the door to the little café on the main street of the little village I was forced to call home and stomped off the snow from my boots. The space was decorated to the nines with all things tasteless. From the askew garlands to the tacky plastic Santas and elves dotting the surfaces of the room. Just like every year, it gets progressively worse.

“Oh, Anna-Louise!” I turned only to smile kindly at the little lady with a hunched back and a fat little dog by her feet. She was a sweet thing, hard of hearing and brutally honest but kind, to me at least. “Martha, how lovely to see you,” I said while she stepped up with short, slow steps to me. “Oh, don’t be daft, nobody likes me,” she said but I laughed for I actually did — even if she scared the children and swatted at peoples’ legs with her cane when they were in her way. She had taken care of me when nobody else did. When the house was empty and I was all alone at too young of an age she’d dragged me to her house and stuffed me with the saltiest treats and teeth-breaking cookies burned to a crisp.

“Now, when are you leaving?” she asked, peering up at me without being able to straighten her back, her hat askew and her teeth anywhere but in her mouth, as usual. Nothing changes here. “Martha, please,” I said with a smile as I bent down to scratch the fat dog under its chin — mostly to alleviate the strain on Martha’s neck from having to look up at me though. “You know I’m not leaving, I have nowhere to go, and nobody who cares.” “Humph, that’s hogwash and you know it, lassie! Your mum would have been pissed like a babe eating a sour lemon to see you stay around here with that brain of yours. You should be out there, exploring the world,” Martha said and began to throw around her cane to indicate the great big world.

“You know I can’t—” “That cane will cause harm eventually, waving it about in such a way, lady.” My body stiffened, my hand stopped scratching the dog as the dark German accent interrupted my sentence and Martha slammed down her cane by my foot with a loud thud. Hans…

I rose as quickly as I could. “Hans?” I asked while turning around and there he stood, all well-dressed and straight-backed. “Anna-Louise,” he said with a short nod and a warm smile. “Now here we have a fine man!” Martha exclaimed and I blanched for a second before whipping my head around. “Martha, you can’t say things like that!” I hissed, feeling my entire face burn. “What? Nobody ever uses that pretty name of yours anymore, always saying Lulu this and Lulu that. And look at him,” she kept going while pointing with her crocked finger blemished from old age, “he’s right off handsome, dressing as the men used to when I was a lassie.” “Martha, shush,” I tried with to silence her but Hans merely chuckled behind me. “Why, thank you, most kind of you, my lady,” he said in a charming manner that somehow felt quite false to me. He didn’t sound like that yesterday.

But Martha gobbled up the words with a chuckle before moving closer to the German man who'd saved my life yesterday while I was at a loss for what to do with the old lady and her daft behaviour. “You know my Anna-Louise?” she asked. “She’s yours?” he asked in return. “Well, her sleaze of a father ain’t much to hang in the tree, her good-for-nothing sister nothing but trouble and her mother—” “MARTHA. That’s enough,” I interrupted and the old lady tutted at me.

“Anywho, she’s my responsibility, so who are you?” “Hans Gruber, at your service, my lady.” He clicked his heels and bowed ever so slightly and still I felt as if it wasn’t quite him, yet he was bloody charming with his wide smile and friendly manner. There was just something wrong with it.

“German, eh? Love Germany, went with my husband back in the day, before the whole war thing, of course. Bloody waste of—” “Martha, for god’s sake, stop,” I sighed as the lady was about to set off on her usual campaign about how war was worthless, how her family raised bunnies to eat, how her husband was taken by it and all that stuff — stuff everyone already knew, agreed about or felt the same way about. There was absolutely no bloody reason to bring up world war two in the little café with its twinkling lights and the delicious smell of freshly baked treats.

Hans seemed unaffected though. “Shall I hold the door for you, my lady?” he asked with a wink in my direction and my shoulders slumped. Martha seemed delighted at the chivalry so uncommon in the poor village with too many dodgy people loitering about. “A gentleman, that’s proper behaviour!” Martha said and smiled her toothless grin up at him before moving towards the door that Hans opened for her. “Bye Martha! Remember to put your teeth in before you eat!” I called, a bit too loud perhaps, but the old lady really had bad hearing. She just waved me off though, too busy getting her wobbling dog out the door while looking at Hans.

I took the chance to get to the counter. But I had barely found the right minty cookies before Hans appeared next to me. “Lively lady,” he said with a chuckle and I smiled up at him in apology. “She’s quite the rascal, really, but she’s sweet. Just need to watch out for the cane, and have lots of patience, but she’s not bad,” I said before clamping my mouth shut. “I can imagine,” Hans simply said with a much warmer smile, a genuine feel to him now.

“Here for the treats?” I asked while turning back to see if there were any blueberry muffins left even if I couldn’t afford them. “Ah, no, actually,” he said and I glanced up at him. “You do know this is a café, right? Treats are kinda what they do here.” “Well, yes,” he chuckled, “but I saw you through the window, schnuki.” “Oh,” I said, not knowing what to make of it but feeling the strangest of giddy feelings at the way he looked a bit nervous.

“But, now that I am here, what do you recommend?” “Hmm, well, that depends on what you like. They have a lot of good stuff and the owner is really nice too, he bakes amazing bread too. The coffee is fresh as well, if you like coffee. I’m quite dependent on it,” I smiled while blabbering on. Unable to stop. Feeling as if there were butterflies in my stomach when he stood so close and offered me his full attention. “What are you having?” “Oh, nothing, I’m just getting some cookies for my dad, he ran out.” “So, out on another errand for someone else again?” I laughed nervously at that before biting my lip and turning away, not wanting to show that he’d hit the nail on the head once more.

“Why not get something while you are here? Tell me what you want the most?” “We aren’t all Oxford owners, you know.” “Oxford owners?” he asked, and my shoulders crept towards my ears — embarrassed about the muttering tone of my voice. “We can’t all afford treats,” I clarified in a low voice. “Schnuki,” he said and stepped a little closer, “I can afford to treat you. So, what do you want to have?”

I looked up at him, seeing him so close had my heart in a revolt of the warmest kind. “You really don’t—” “I can afford Oxfords,” he said matter-of-factly, putting an end to the debate. “Blueberry muffin,” I said, almost stunned at my own words -- short and to the point for once. There was no need to blabber much more as Hans actually listened to me, it felt a bit strange, honestly. “That’s your preference?” “My favourite.” “Well then, let’s get one each and some coffee.” I nodded at him, not knowing what to do when he was so kind, and giving. I wasn’t used to it. Everyone in the village had to hold on tight to their money, some more than others and my family was definitely part of that group. Or, I was at least, dad doing whatever he wished and my sis getting her way most of the time — with him or boys in general.

≪⁕≫

Hans hummed as he took the first bite of his muffin. “It’s good, right?” I asked with a small smile while tugging off my gloves to take my own muffin. “Really deli—” His eyes widened as I reached for my muffin and before I knew it my hands were in his. “What happened to your hands?” he asked while the warmth of his skin spread across my chilly hands with a wave of warmth rising within me. I couldn’t get my brain to even think a thought when he touched me, skin on skin.

“Schnuki? What happened? Why are you harmed?” I shook my head, blinking away the daze. “Oh, Ferdinand swatted at me, I’m fine though. He’s just—” “He? Who? Who is Ferdinand?” he gritted out, his blue eyes harsh. “Oh, my sis’s cat, he’s such a rascal because she never tamed him properly and I was doing the tree and he was trying to get the tinsel and climb it so I had to grab him and-, sorry, I’m blabbering… But I’m fine,” I said with a nervous smile as my hands kept tingling while he held them.

“Your hands should never look like this. Why did your sister not deal with her beast?” “Hans,” I laughed while he inspected my hands anew, “he’s no beast, he’s just a bit of a feral kitty.” “Still, this looks painful.” “I’m used to—” “This happens often?” “Well, yeah, I have to deal with him since sis doesn’t. She just thought he looked cute as a baby kitten, and dad hates Ferdinand, but he’s obsessed with making my sis happy so the cat would die if I didn’t care for it as much as possible. He doesn’t like me very much though, he’s a cat so he doesn’t understand who cleans his litterbox and makes sure there’s cat food and treats and clean water every day and all that. And he hates it when I bathe him, that’s a bloody war each time but he has sensitive skin so he needs baths with a special shampoo and-, oh, I’m blabbering again, I’m so sorry, I talk too much, all the time,” I said and finally managed to shut my mouth while my nerves were tied up in knots.

Through it all Hans still held my hands, his eyes apparently never leaving my face while my eyes bounced all over. He was too handsome and when he gave me his undivided attention I could barely hold myself together. So much in me was ready to burst out but he was a stranger I’d only met twice.

“Your family sounds quite terrible, quite selfish,” he said quietly and I laughed nervously, his words being too accurate. Again. “It’s not a laughing matter, why do you let them treat you this way?” “What else am I supposed to do? They’re my family,” I said and he finally (regrettably) released my hands while leaning back, looking at me intently. “Leave? You’re an adult.” “Yeah but I don’t have anyone and I can’t just leave, where am I supposed to go? I’ve never been further than London.” “You don’t need anyone, schnuki. You’re capable and more than able to stand on your own two feet.”

I glanced at him while wrapping my hands around the coffee cup, seeping up the warmth it offered my cold palms. “You don’t know me, Hans,” I whispered, feeling defeated when he had such faith in me. The last person who ever had faith in me was my mother and there was no faith to be had there anymore. “I don’t need to know you, it’s enough to look at you and talk with you a bit.” “Fine, be that as it may, I don’t want to be alone out there. The world is too big, too cruel and harsh. I’d break down in a puddle of anxiety. No, I’m better off here.” “Yet you’re not.” “I didn’t realise the muffin came with a therapy session,” I chuckled while I did my damnedest to restrain the tears wanting to well up. He was so genuine in his words, it just touched something within me — not to mention how he watched me, what it felt like to be near him and the strong sensation of care he radiated.

“I’ve offended you,” he said. “I’m sorry, schnuki.” “No, no you haven’t, I just-, it’s not so simple.” “What if I make it simple?”

I looked up at him, my muffin still untouched on the table and he had gotten comfortable in the booth. Something about the way he spoke those last words had my full attention. Something lingered in the air around him and it felt… honest.

“How would you do that?” I asked, leaning my elbows on the table to not crumble under his heavy gaze. He smiled slyly yet it was done in a comforting, alluring manner. The man had some unexplainable charm, not to mention he was easily the hottest man I had ever seen — not that I had ever been very attracted to anyone I’d ever met before. But his looks were so singular and it felt as if he held himself with a certain pride that had nothing to do with vanity. “Come with me,” he said, no faltering or humour in his voice while I blinked rapidly at him.

I burst out laughing, turning a few heads at the loud noise. “Oh yeah, let me just go with the stranger I met only yesterday, that’s a brilliant idea,” I laughed but he didn’t join in. He remained quiet, serious. “You’re joking, right?” “No.” “You’re being serious?” “Yes,” he nodded while his smile crept back for a second.

I leaned back, my mouth agape and my brain stunned. “You do know that’s like how to not get kidnapped one-o-one, do not go anywhere with strangers. Especially as a woman, and even more so when the stranger is a man.” “So that’s what we are, schnuki? Strangers? Just a man and a woman?” “Well, yes! We just met yesterday!” “Yet I’ve been unable to stop thinking about you.” And I you… This is madness!

My heart was running amok, my brain malfunctioning, and there was some idiotic part of me that simply wanted to say yes. Say ‘take me away from here and never stop looking at me like you are doing right now’ kind of thing that was wholly foolish and a thousand times idiotic.

“I don’t know you, Hans,” I said, even if there was some part of me that for whatever reason had faith in the man. That I wouldn’t come to harm, that I wouldn’t be abandoned again, or treated like some slave in my own home. Hans was… different. “And I don’t know you, Anna-Louise. Yet still, I feel as if I know who you are, what you are supposed to be.” “Nobody knows that,” I sighed, grabbing my coffee anew and drinking a large gulp despite the hot liquid burning my tongue.

“If nobody knows, then that includes you, no?” he asked while I sat the cup down. My eyes lingered on the blueberry muffin. “I guess, that’s almost fair to say. I don’t think anybody really knows who they are or what they are supposed to be.” “Then why not trust in someone else to see something more in oneself?”

I had no answer to that.

“Schnuki,” he said while his hand reached out and took mine gently, his thumb stroking over my knuckles softly. “Why do you call me that? What does it even mean?” I asked and looked up at him, his face soft while his eyes hooked mine. “I’m leaving at nine, taking the train north,” he said and avoided my questions entirely. “If you change your mind and decide you’d like to see the world with me, I’ll be waiting until the very last second, schnuki…”

He release my hand, stroked my jawline gently, and stood. My eyes followed his face all the way up while everything in my body screamed for me to take his hand and walk right out of the café by his side. That my life was going to walk right out with him and I’d never live another day as anything more than Lulu when I could be schnuki, whatever the hell that means. It can’t be worse than losing my name because it takes too much energy to say it, to be of so little value not even my name worth saying in its entirety… But he says it.

Hans walked around the edge of the table, pulling on his black gloves and adjusting the scarf around his neck while my body tensed. He was handsome, elegant, different and alluring in a way I’d never experienced before. “Schnuki,” he said and leaned forward, kissing my forehead gently. Yet, there was resolve and some touchable feeling of longing I couldn’t quite place seeping from his lips against my skin. “If we never met again, know that you are worth more than you think,” he said against my forehead and straightened to his full height.

The sound of the door closing jolted me. I turned to look out through the window, wanting to see him one last time only to find him standing there on the other side with a warm smile that was slightly blurry through the glass covered in frost. He just stood there, watching me for a long moment while my body appeared frozen in place, unable to run after him because of the fear yet unable to get my heart to understand that he wasn’t going to stay.

He took off his glove and drew the tip of his finger against the glass, melting the frost with his body heat while writing something. My eyes were too occupied with the view of his handsome face to fully register what he was doing though. And then he looked at me again, smiling softly with sincerity in those clear eyes. My heart pounded, my ribs hurt from the beating — or perhaps from the knowledge it held that my brain couldn’t comprehend.

One second he was there, and then he was gone. It took me a moment to realise I was staring out the window at absolutely nothing, then I bolted outside. “HANS!” I called over the sound of passing cars and laughing pedestrians. But he wasn’t there. My entire body slumped and a cold sense of dread crept in as I looked around the main street — all the shops and buildings engraved in my mind, every stone housing a memory I wished to forget or a feeling I never wished to experience again. All around me lay everything I had always wanted to escape from, yet had been tied to so fiercely I failed when the opportunity was given. Because I was afraid, taught to think of myself as something small and worthless to the world.

I hugged myself and turned only to catch my reflection in the frosty glass. My eyes had smiled yesterday when I looked in the mirror while brushing my teeth, because he had been on my mind. Now, they were back to their normal state, closed off and vacant. I drew a deep breath and tried to find it in me to turn around and go home.

‘Sweetie’ it said on the window. Where Hans had been writing with his finger, the word sweetie was left behind and I couldn’t understand why such a childishly cute nickname damn near hurt every fibre of my body. Yes, you do, you know, Anna-Louise. You know why it hurt. You bloody well know! I screamed at myself in my head while I grabbed at the fabric covering my chest.

I had been nothing but unwanted, found to be a blabbering nuisance that could never do enough or be enough. The only thing I ever did enough of was talking, but what point is there to talking when nobody ever listens? I talk all the time because-, because no matter what I say or how many times I say it nobody hears me anyway… Nobody listens. I could say I’d off myself and nobody would bat an eye, they wouldn’t have heard me…

I wiped at my cheeks, the tears coming even if I didn’t want them to. My throat closed up as my fingers touched the glass where his finger had been, my other hand covering my mouth to silence the crying I didn’t want to let out. It felt as if years upon years of suppressed hurt, caged anger and hidden fear were trying to crawl their way into the light. It was so easy to hide it away, pretend it wasn’t there when nobody ever cared to see, to listen, to remind me of the fact that I deserved more. That I didn’t deserve to feel like I always did, to hide away and blabber myself into oblivion in the hope that maybe someone would see me, hear me…

I withdrew my hand, wrapping it around my aching stomach while clamping down my hand even harder on my mouth as my tears rolled despite my wish for them to stay hidden while my legs began to tremble beneath me. Did mum feel like this when she left? Was I not enough even for her to-, to bring me with her… It was the thought I never allowed myself to think.

“It can’t end like this. I can’t end up like this. There-, there has to be more to life than-, than-, than this,” I whispered against my palm while the tears chilled my face in the icy English winter. I’ll go. I’ll go and I won’t look back no matter what happens. I can’t-, I can’t live like this. And I… A gasp escaped me as my eyes lingered on the word ‘sweetie’, I feel something significant for him. There’s more to him, us, than just… strangers. There’s more.

≪⁕≫

I ran. My bag thudded against my thigh. They didn’t even notice. They won’t notice until there’s nobody there to do it all. And I won’t! I won’t be there anymore for them!

I panted as the station came into view, the large clock at the entrance standing at 08.56 pm. My heart ached and fluttered, my legs were drained and stiff while the wind clawed at my cheeks. He’ll be there, he has to be there, I chanted over and over in my head to keep the tears at bay.

I was leaving. I wasn’t coming back. I was running away. Running towards something. Someone.

“Please, be, there,” I panted. My breath turned to fog and I slowed down, unable to breathe without a burning sensation erupting in my throat from the cold air being inhaled too swiftly. I slowed down, feeling the nerves erupt and the fear of the unknown tried to make me turn around. But I couldn’t. The thought of him, of Hans, waiting for me with that longing in his eyes that saw me. The man who was happy when I blabbered after having been so quiet at the beginning. ‘She speaks’ he had said with warmth and I could not imagine ever forgetting those words.

I walked through the station house, my naked hands red and raw from the cold while I grasped at the strap of the duffel bag. He’ll be there. He’ll be waiting. He’ll absolutely be there. Right..? “I’ve lost my mind. I’m leaving with a stranger who calls me sch-nuky,” and I can’t even say it right… What am I—

There he was. Waiting on the platform. His entire body tense and stiff. But he was waiting. He was there.

It felt as if I could breathe again. My shoulders sank and an involuntary smile stretched my lips wide at the sight of him. I remained utterly still for a moment as I took him in, took in the fact that he was waiting for me while the train lay idle in wait for its departure time.

“H-Hans,” I whispered, my voice shaking. There was no chance he could have heard me from so far away, yet he straightened and looked around. His eyes found me nearly instantly and his entire body softened. A smile of his own spread across those thin lips framed by his perfectly groomed beard.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t get my legs to take me to him. Stunned that it was all happening. Surprised at the absolute joy in my heart at seeing him again. Transfixed by the shift in his eyes as he looked me over, his gaze snagging on my bag for a second before he began walking towards me. My fingers squeezed the strap harder as he drew closer, my throat closing up.

“Schnuki,” he exhaled a step away from me and then I was in his arms. “You came,” he murmured, as if he struggled for words as well. My arms came around him and I buried my cold face in his chest and shoulder. “I did.” “Anna-Louise…” he exhaled and kissed the side of my head. “We’ll see the world together, my sweet treat,” he continued after that and I couldn’t imagine I would ever have found the courage to leave the misery behind if it weren’t for the stranger who I’d so foolishly swiftly fallen head over heels for.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

A/N: I love these two… Like, I love the way this is so held back yet obvious at the same time. They are so darn cute together and I can’t help but wonder how Anna-Louise would react to finding out who she’s actually left everything for… 😬 What do you think? Would they be able to get through that when they are so new to each other 🤔 I have no idea, maybe?

Either way, I hope you enjoyed this and that you found some delight in the cuteness 🙈🥰💚

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[Dec:2022]

[theshelbyclan]

The Young Nurse

Summary: When it turns out Finn is more ill than anyone suspected, you don’t know what to do, apart from being practical about it and taking care of him

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​) A/N: The amazing @staygold-bebold​ send me her first request and I’m SO honoured: Hellooo there :) This is my first fic request *smiles shyly* I have this idea in my head for a while now... How about sick!Finn with reader taking care of him? I'm hoping for it to take place between seasons 2 and 3, so he is still soft. (before blinding the Changretta man in s4) Bonus if there can be an innocent cuddle in it! 😊 I love love love the way you portrayed Finn in your fics and how you never write too mushy fics even with fluff in it. Hope this is ok!You are such a wholesome sweetheart, I love this idea. Hope I did it justice! Finn’s fourteen in this one (so season 2) and the reader is of a similar age. Words: 2537

*** “I don’t feel so good…” “What?” you’d asked, but before Finn could answer, he’d fallen down and passed out already. 

At first, you had to laugh and you could hear others do the same. Everyone was down at the Garrison to celebrate and Finn had been sneaking whiskey all night. Tommy kept on taking it off of him, but John allowed it. Like it was really his first time drinking whiskey anyways… You were working at the bar. Officially, you were too young for the job, but your mother worked there and you occasionally helped out. Being only fourteen, you did work at the Garrison, but only during daytime, to clean. This is how you and Finn had met and he used to sit with you while you worked, watching and talking. He was a different boy away from his family. You never really talked much, it just wasn’t in your nature. But you could observe and deduce things that others failed to notice. For example, Finn was different with John. He was careful around Arthur, because he was the one to usually tell him to piss off. This annoyed Finn, as he desperately wanted to be seen as a man. With Tommy he was acting tough, trying to prove something, but never quite succeeding. But with John, he was just the little brother. John let him ride horses, let him drink and talked and played around with him. In all honesty, it seemed like Finn could make John forget all he’d seen and done, and allowed him to be a boy once again. So, it was John who’d given him the whiskey. When Finn fell down, you all laughed. Tommy took him back home and sighed deeply, “I fucking told you, didn’t I? And now I’m having to waste my fucking time on you, eh?” You’d seen many men fall down for the drink, but something didn’t feel right. Frowning but not speaking, you decided to keep an eye on your friend. ***

The next day, you went to Polly’s. She told you Finn was still in bed and that you couldn’t see him right now. “What’s wrong with him?” “Finn’s having his first ever hangover!” John called from the kitchen, grinning broadly. But Polly’s face showed some worry, “He’s puking his guts out, that’s for sure, and he can’t hold down any water. It’s the shortness of breath that’s worrying…” “Is he still drinking?” you asked at once. “What do you want with him?” John inquired, “Sit by his bed and hold his hand?” “Just wanted to see if he needs anything…” you mumbled. “Like his girlfriend maybe,” Arthur growled deeply. “I’m not his girlfriend!” you replied indignantly, but immediately you looked down again to hide your blushing. You’d never talked back to any other Shelby than Finn and it scared you. “Leave her alone, Arthur,” Tommy spoke from the shadows, “She’s a good girl, Y/N, sensible. She won’t do anything that isn’t proper or right, eh?” “Y/N,” Polly saved you, “Come back tomorrow. He needs to rest now.” And so you came back the next day, and the next, and the next, always being denied entrance into Finn’s bedroom. His chest pains had gotten worse and he had real trouble breathing now. You were tired of waiting. At home, you had started pacing for fear of the unknown. “What’s the matter with you?” your mother challenged, “You’re never like this. You’re supposed to be the calm one, I’m the agitated and loud one.” She was right. Sometimes you wondered if you and your mother were even related, because you couldn’t be more different. She worked at the bar, talking easily to all men and flirting always. You liked to hide in a corner and passed unnoticed. Your mother preferred the company during work, while you enjoyed the work in silence. Everyone knew your mother, but few even knew she had a kid. Your mother always complained how you were too boring, too practical, too silent, while you just whished for a mother to take care of you, not the other way around… All of this played out in your head, but you didn’t say a word. Then one night, it became too much to bear and you decided to do the bravest thing you had ever done in your short life. Silently, you crept out of your own bed and put on some clothes. While you were making your way out of the house, you saw your own reflection in the mirror, and you faltered. Strictly you said to yourself, “Y/N, stop being a baby. Do you want to go on the rest of your life not mattering to anyone? Finn needs you. Now man up, and go!” So you breathed in deeply and slipped out the front door. That was the easy part done, but now came the difficult part. Standing in front of the Shelby home, you cursed your own sudden courage but decided there was no going back now. Clattering up the drainpipe, you reached the roof of the houses at Watery Lane. Like a cat, without making a sound, you crawled towards the room in which Finn usually slept. Peering in, you saw he was alone: a stroke of luck. Getting the window to open was a lot easier than you’d feared. But what to do now that you were inside? You didn’t have much time to think it over, because Finn suddenly woke up and opened his eyes. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” You blushed again, “I wanted to see you,” you whispered. “How did you get in?” he said in a hushed voice. “I climbed the roof and came in through the window.” “Does Aunt Pol know?” “Obviously not, if I climbed the roof, silly!” you hissed. Finn frowned, “Is this a dream? It’s a dream, isn’t it… I’ve been having the weirdest dreams lately…” You quickly walked over to his bed and knelt down next to it, “I’m really here Finn.” “You climbed the roof,” Finn raised his eyebrows, “Y/N would never climb a roof. Without permission from Aunt Pol. In the middle of the night.” “Well, I did.” “In my dream you did.” “Finn!” you said, a little louder than anticipated, “It’s not a dream!” And you pinched him, “See?” “Ow!” he called out, “That hurt…” He actually looked a little betrayed and hurt, so you had difficulty in stopping yourself from laughing. You managed to hide it though, by taking a cloth from a washing basin and dabbing his head with it. He was burning up and worry took a hold of you. “Y/N?” Finn asked, “What are you doing?” “Taking care of you,” you said matter-of-factly. “Why?” “Well, I can’t imagine your brothers are doing much to help you,” annoyance slipped into your tone. “John’s scared,” Finn said softly, “We lost Martha and he doesn’t like people being ill after that. Tommy thinks it’s just the whiskey, maybe they all do. Arthur was never great with… anything really.” “What about Pol?” you asked, while taking his pulse with two fingers. Finn shrugged a little, “She’s got Michael now.” Full of sympathy, you looked at him. “I’m glad you’re here,” he smiled, “Got bored.” “Your pulse is fast,” you commented, “Have you been drinking enough?” But the two of you were rudely interrupted by someone barging into the room. Polly’s eyebrows rose, she looked like she was about to start yelling, but then motioned for you to follow her. Without a second thought, you obeyed. “Care to tell me what’s been going on?” she demanded once you were downstairs. You were officially scared of her, but answered, “He needs someone to look after him.” “Does he now?” “He’s seriously ill, Polly,” you said, but quickly followed it with, “Sorry, Miss Gray…” And for the second time, Tommy emerged from the shadows, “No need to stand on formal ceremony. How did you get into my house?” “Roof,” you practically trembled. “Jesus Christ…” Polly sighed, “Young love, that’s all we need…” “It’s not about that!” you called out, “He’s actually ailing! And he’s still vomiting after three days, he’s dehydrated, has difficulty breathing, a seriously high fever and his pulse is too fast. I don’t think it’s the whiskey, Mr. Shelby.”

“Not the whiskey, eh?” he slowly lit a cigarette, “Then what is your diagnosis?” “Influenza,” you said at once, “Saw my father die of it.” “And you checked his fever and pulse, you said?” Polly asked, in a much calmer voice now. “Yes, both elevated. He needs medicine,” you said in a practical manner, “I can see if I can get any Ginseng or elderberry, but I can’t get a hold of any other drugs.” “Surely it’s not that serious…” Polly objected. “It is,” you interrupted her, “he needs medicine fast and he needs fluids. He seems fine, but tonight might be critical.”

“Tell me, Y/N, how do you know all of this,” Tommy asked softly, seemingly unaffected by all of this. Again, you blushed, “I want to be a nurse.” “Makes sense,” Polly smirked a little. “I mean, I would like to…” you stumbled, “Can’t, but, I still want to help people…” Tommy understood at once, “If you can save Finn tonight, I’ll pay for your schooling. Now, tell me what I need to get.” Polly turned around and looked at her nephew with big eyes, asking, but not speaking out loud. He did reply however, “Y/N’s the most sensible person I know and she’s only fourteen, Pol. We’re not losing Finn. Let her take care of him.” For a moment, it looked like Polly was about to argue with him again, but then she closed her mouth. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, “What can I do?” “Do you have any green tea?” you grew shy at ordering a woman like Polly Gray about, “Green tea would be good for him…” “Tea,” she repeated and stood up to make some, “Anything else?” “Maybe you could send someone to my mother’s house, because I know she has the elderberry and Ginseng I mentioned.” “I’ll send John,” Tommy nodded and he told you, “Go sit with Finn. Let us know if anything changes.” Suddenly feeling numb, you walked up the stairs again. It was like this little conversation had only just made clear to you in how much danger Finn actually was. And it scared you, because Finn really was your only friend and you needed him. Sitting by his bed, he had lost consciousness again. It was as you had said: this night would be critical. Whenever he did wake a little, you tried pouring some of the green tea into him and luckily he kept it down. Still, his pulse was racing and his fever was blazing. Waiting and praying, you had no idea that downstairs Polly was doing the exact same thing. The next day went by uneventful. It seemed impossible to get him to drink enough, but you never stopped trying, mixing different drugs in with the liquids and teas, hoping it would be enough to save him. Every two hours or so, Tommy came walking up the stairs and when he came into the room, he only asked one question: “Has the danger passed?” You had to keep on disappointing him over and over. When Finn was awake, he ailed. ‘Awake’ was too liberal a term anyways, because you could no longer talk to him and his eyes wouldn’t focus. Sometimes he’d ask for you and when you talked to him and he recognised you voice, he became calm again and drifted off to sleep. “Y/N?” he once asked, “When I die, where will I go?” “Heaven, I suppose…” you muttered, “But you’re not dying, Finn, I won’t allow it. Now, drink this and rest.” “What do you mean, you won’t allow it?” “You’re young and you still have things to do!” you called out. “Like what?” he muttered, “Business? My brothers all think I’m just a kid… useless…” Angrily, you threw the wet cloth on his head again, “Well, I’d miss you. I need someone to talk to while I’m working and that’s you. Now, stop talking about dying.” “Okay,” he whispered, and drifted off again.

Another few hours passed and he wasn’t awake much. Was his fever going down, or were you just imagining it? Maybe it was wishful thinking…

The next time Finn woke up, he was complaining, “I’m cold. Is it cold? Because I’m really cold…”

And the concern was right back, because he was actually sleeping under five blankets already and even though it was Birmingham, it was in fact summer.

“Y/N,” he whined, “I’m really cold…”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what else to do. Do you want some more tea?”

“That doesn’t help.”

So you decided quickly, “Okay, move. I’m going in.”

His eyes opened a little more in surprise, “In?”

“In the bed,” you clarified, “don’t get excited. I’m warm, boiling actually because of the fire, and I can warm you.”

So here you were, in bed with Finn Shelby. And for the first time, you felt your own pulse quickening.

Of course this was the moment that Tommy chose to check up on Finn again, taking half his family with him. They just stood there and stared.

“He was cold,” you explained meekly.

“Right,” Tommy said, smoking quietly.

“How is he?” Polly asked.

It’d been a few hours since you last checked and when you felt for his pulse, it appeared to have slowed down a little. Also, his head wasn’t feeling as hot as it had been before. He hadn’t vomited for a few hours now and when you looked at him, you saw he was wide awake, with a small smile of satisfaction playing around his lips.

“He doesn’t look unhappy,” John ventured.

“He has no bloody reason to be unhappy,” Arthur added with a grin.

“Tell me,” Tommy said simply.

And you sighed a sigh of relief, “The danger had passed.”

“Better thank your girlfriend, Finn!” John practically cheered.

“I’m not…” you sighed, but you didn’t have the energy to finish that sentence.

“Leave them be,” Polly said in a soft voice, “they both need to rest now.”

“I wouldn’t rest much with my girlfriend in bed…” John continued teasing.

You ground out, for what felt like the 20

th

time, “Not. His. Girlfriend.”

Finally, everyone left, which took some force on Polly’s part. You looked at Finn and noticed he was getting a bit of colour back into his cheeks already. He’d even complained about being hungry, which was surely a good sign.

“Y/N?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said softly, “what is it?”

“I have a question,” he tried to sit up, but you wouldn’t let him, “Thank you for taking care of me, but why?”

“You’re my friend,” you stated simply.

He shook his head, “No.”

“No?”

He didn’t respond for a while, but then repeated, “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Just ignore my brothers and whatever they’re saying.”

“They’re wrong,” you smiled, “They don’t even know us.”

“They don’t,” he confirmed and then he was silent for a few moments, fidgeting with the buttons of his pyjama’s.

“Y/N?”

“Finn?”

“I don’t want them to be wrong…”

“What do you mean?” you furrowed your brow while he stared at you with an expectant look.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

***

Masterlist

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities. 

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

[starlightshadowsworld]

YGO Protagonists

Atem:

*Oldest brother... Literal dad

*Is very protective over the rest of them

*Seriously don't touch a hair on their heads because you will lose your soul.

*He totally has Kaiba on Speed dial and calls him over the dumbest things to get a rise out of him (but they are friendly?( Seto would also murder you dead if you hurt these munchkins he just won't admit it... (I will not apologise for this)

*Does not understand memes (mee mee's?) but tells dad puns for days.

*Always gives compliments and gives great life/dueling advice to the rest (puts a hand on their shoulders with that knowing and proud look).

*Will spend hours bragging about how far Judai's come, how smart and talented Yusei and Yusaku, how Yuya and Yuga created original dualing rules, how Yugi is awesome. He will tell anyone and everyone (they all secretly love it)

Yugi Mouto:

*Younger older brother? (identical twins but younger of the two)

*Super optimistic, always there to lend a hand and is very pacifistic... but will throw hands if the situation requires and without hesitation.

*Has Kaibaman in his deck to spite Kaiba (it works every time)

*HE SHARPENS HIS HAIR!

*Yes it can pierce a wall... It was for science.

*Usually the one to help escalate the chaos, and than pretends to have no idea why the house is upside down... And on fire... And the fire is green.

*Is the only one other than Atem to get Yusei to go to sleep.

*He loves puzzles, telling riddles and leaving little clues around the house for the others to solve (and they always get a present even if they get it wrong because they tried.)

*Doesn't see anything wrong with his fashion sense.

Judai Yuki:

*Problem child 1, needs a hug

*Memelord, will constantly troll Atem with movie references, and anything he can think of. (Yes he does quote the star wars prequels during duals.)

*Yubel makes sure he's looking after himself and has woven their way into the family. They and Astral have fun conversations. (Pharaoh the cat gets on very well with Atem... Werid.)

*Either he's happy, outgoing and herding the younger kids into various pranks. Rounding up Yuya, Yuma, Yuga and Yugi into his antics, (we don't speak of the Eggwitch incident). Sometimes he manages to drag Yusaku in to join them, giving them all a part to play and praising their efforts (they haven't been caught)

*OR he's depressed, haunted and full of guilt. He finds comfort by spending time with the others, hating being on his own. Everyone even those fairly reserved pick up on his mood and direct him to different tasks. Especially with Yuya, both of them can talk for hours about what ifs, shoulds and shouldn'ts.

*Favourite non dualing activity is helping Yusei to bake, he has burned many a cookie but he loves icing cakes.

*Very protective, will tap into the power of the Supreme King and Yubels abilities sometimes as unconsciously when one of the others are upset, or he's pushed into a corner.

Yusei Fudo:

*Oldest after the twins, literal mum

*Can't take care of himself to save his life but cares deeply for the others. Packing them lunches, helping them with school work etc.

*Takes Yusaku under his wing as soon as he sees his tech skills, both of them stay up for hours working on projects until Yugi scolds them at 4 am.

*Always half asleep, covered in oil and holding a cup of coffee (no he doesn't have a problem.) He mumbles codes and always seems to fall asleep holding a wrench.

*Usually he's accompanied by Yuga or Yusaku, either sitting and asking questions about their projects or working on a shared on/Yusaku's own stuff. He doesn't like working alone so it works out.

*Can do the "Mum look" and it has stopped the Supreme King, Dark Zexal and Zarc in their tracks.

*Card games on Motorcycles...having his bike borrowed by the little ones who want to play a card game on a bike but aren't old enough or know how to drive.

*Likes to bake, learned from Martha to give the others birthday treats and finds it fun.

*Claims he can never get sick... Liar.

Yusaku Fujiki

*Problem child 2 (all problem children need hugs and therapy, Kaiba get your wallet)

*Tried to stay closed off from the others but finds he enjoys their company and their antics.

*He has a Metapod hoodie that Yuya won at a carnival and gifted him. He wears it all the time, its cosy.

*Pretty Awkward, very cold sometimes without meaning it but somehow there all able to understand what he means without getting upset or offended.

*He spends hours working on projects with Yusei, neither talk much and it's a comfortable silence. Yuga often accompanies them, full of questions and joy and he enjoys sharing his work.

*Prefers to watch the others dual than to dual himself, absorbing the strategies and while he doesn't quite understand their motives... He finds himself smiling at Yuya's shows, wondering what he means with his smiling routine.

*Offhandedly told Kaiba that he fixed some holes in his security system. Kaiba went on a firing spree (yes with his firing people coat) and his was promptly hired. He actually enjoys it, and is now Kaiba's favourite brat.

*Also... The missing persons list is growing after Yusaku finally opened up about his past.... Werid.

Yuya Sakaki

*Problem child 3 (see above)

*Smiles go for miles

*Finds a lot of comfort from the others. The first time he let slip about Zarc, Judai was right there with his glowing green/orange eyes and they bonded instantly.

*He tries to only dual for entertainment and fun but that can't always be the case, though it really rattles him up afterwards. Do not make him mad in a dual if you value your life.

*Plays a lot with Yuma and Yuga, as the oldest of the trio he tries to set an example... He never said it was a good one....hes part of Zarc.

*He always has a game, an idea and the others will always be his faithful audience. He's made real solid dualing into an art, Atem and Judai have made his monsters real at times without the need for the tech (it was beautiful)

*Starts the appreciate Dragons Fanclub with Yusei and Kaiba.

*Yes to capes (Sorry Edna)

*Fusion dimension isn't available at the moment... Or the forceable future.

Yuma Tsukumo

*Second youngest, space boy

*Atem gives him advice and praises every one of his duals even he loses, teaching him that every one can be used as a step towards success.

*Astral befriends Yubel, and often makes remarks at the Zarc fragments, he and Yuuri get on the others nerve.

*He spends most of his time with Yuya and Yuga, either dualing, watching Yuya dualtain or pranking. He started their lengendary prank war against Judai and Yugi...(Yusei was out of the house for a week and Atem gave up). It was a battle for the ages.

*He does worry at times that he's so behind the others skill's levels but as he gets closer to them it matters less. He cheers on every one of them, bragging about how cool they are.

*He takes up other hobbies, baking, cooking, and dragging everyone into family game nights. Which all end fine and do not result in a pissed of Zarc threathing Wario before kicking his switch out of a window... Nope absolutely not.

*Has a constellation book.

*Likes using big words he doesn't know the meaning off. And than trying and failing to convince everyone he knows exactly what he just said without googling it... While Astral facepalms, definitely picked it up from Yusei.

Yuga Ohda

*Tiny baby

*Yugi picked him up once and everyone starting to sing "it's the circle of life."

*He loves watching Yusei and Yasuke work, because they answer his questions properly and look at his inventions with respect and a critical but kind eye. They slowly teach him his to improve and it shows in his work.

*All of them were interested in his Rush duals and listen to him explain, finding it interesting and another new way to play.

*Yuya teaches him how to dualtain, both of them putting on hippo-tastic shows for their friends and loved ones. Fulfilling their goals to have fun.

*He steals everyone's hoodies and jackets, doesn't care how big they are he will steal them and wear them. And look adorable despite his argument that he isn't.

*Everyone is the most protective of him as he's the youngest and while he's touched, he's super protective over them and offers himself as a cuddle buddy whenever anyone has nightmares.

And there all one big crazy family

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

L O V E B O U N D

“Christmasbound III”

I know many of you never thought this day would come, but I’m glad to be back with our three favorites. please be kind, as I drafted this within a day. I genuinely hope you’ll like it. merry christmas from the fam xx 

“And if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know you know, you’ll always know me. Dorothea. Uh uh” 

She keeps her eyes closed, feels the warm and soft material underneath her huge headphones that cover the entirety of her ears. Surrounded by blankets and curtains, hanging right from her opened closet, Taylor feels the same warmth she’s always felt when recording music. Under normal circumstances, this would’ve been in a professional setting. A recording studio with narrow walls and acoustic matts covering the walls. 

This little home studio in her closet certainly doesn’t compare. 

With her eyes still closed, Taylor moves her head with the beat of the music, mindlessly  reaches for the headphones. She doesn’t have to open her eyes, doesn’t have to be able to hear the slightest noise beneath the music to know exactly that someone is making their way to her. It’s instinctive, it’s natural.

With the huge headphones now in her hands, Taylor stops the recording on her laptop that is placed on the little table on her right side and then slowly turns around. She smiles. Her five, almost six year old child is standing in the room. She’s barefoot. Her long Pajama pants covering her petite legs. Blonde and curly hair in all directions, obviously in need for a cuddle with her momma as she rubs her puffy eyes and walks straight towards her mom. 

“Mornin’ honey.” Taylor just mumbles into the warm neck, a little laugh escaping her lips as she already feels Eleanor hugging her neck so tight. A tiny head is now placed on her shoulders. She sighs in her low voice, seems to be in her half asleep dreamland state. Taylor breathes her baby girl in, slowly rubs her small back up and down. This just never changes. 

“How did you sleep?” Taylor asks her quietly, slowly pulls back to squish the tired and warm cheeks and presses a big kiss onto them a few times. Eleanor just stands there, obviously still tired.

“Good.” she says, her eyes on her momma’s big microphone in the midst of the bedroom. Taylor knows that this is as weird for Eleanor as it is for her. After all she’s never recorded an album from home. Eleanor knows that her mom writes songs on the piano or on the guitar sometimes, but this whole technical set- up is yet another thing that has become Eleanor’s new reality. This global pandemic really has brought many changes into the little girls life. 

“What are you singing?” she says quietly, still looking up to the big round microphone on the stand where her mom is sitting. 

“I’m recording this song I wrote, called Dorothea.” 

Eleanor looks at Taylor with big eyes, the same big blue eyes she knows from someone else so well and nods slowly. Taylor laughs. 

“Who is Dorothea?” she asks then and Taylor grins. 

“That’s a good question. She’s a beautiful girl who’s moved away from the little old town she grew up in and became famous, and everyone knows her.” 

The blonde signer can already see in the five year old’s face that this conversation won’t go anywhere. Eleanor nods distracted, as Taylor places the headphones on the table next to her and pulls Eleanor onto her lap. 

“Breakfast?” 

Eleanor nods. Taylor slowly gets up, the big girl on her arms while making her way out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Eleanor slowly cuddles herself once more into her arms and Taylor doesn’t complain. Currently, she absorbs every second of this clingy and cuddly phase that her daughter is going through. Taylor immediately has to think of the words of her pediatrician from the other week ago. This current global crisis is a big mystery for children. Everyone wears masks. No more playing with friends. No leaving the house anymore. How scary this must be for someone who doesn’t understand the world yet? Taylor knows that Eleanor has every reason to be clingy and needy of her mom during this time. And she enjoys this phase more than she ever thought she would. Back when Eleanor was a baby, she would sometimes dream about what it would be like to have a child who can play by herself, use the bathroom by herself, eat by herself. Now that her baby girl is in her last year of pre- school, Taylor realizes that time is just a construct and that every cuddle and every hug is only temporary. But it’s appreciated. So incredibly appreciated. 

“Are you looking forward to your ladybug class today?” Taylor whispers into Eleanor’s ears and the little girl nods excitedly, just as Taylor places her on the marble counter right downstairs in the kitchen. Taylor grins, slowly opens the fridge. 

“Today we have to bring our favorite teddy bear and I want to bring Benji.” Eleanor says excitedly, as Taylor just looks at her daughter and laughs. 

“Don’t you think Miss Clarkson will know that he’s a real life cat and not a teddy bear?” Taylor says amusedly while pouring some oat milk into a little cup right on the stove. In her light blue pajamas, just like Eleanor’s, Taylor brings the milk to heat up and looks back at the curly head who’s already playing with the little miniature dolls she left on the counter last night. 

“No because daddy always says Benji is a little bear!” Eleanor says laughing, seems to be more than excited about her clever idea. And if her dad says so, then it has to be right. Taylor grins at her baby girl while preparing her hot chocolate. She knows exactly how important Joe’s words are for the little girl. Eleanor is already focused on her little dolls again, seems to have almost forgotten that Taylor is in the room with her, and sings quietly while playing around.

“Here’s your hot chocolate.” Taylor says, pronouncing the last two words in an extra British way to make her daughter laugh. Eleanor takes the big cup with the kitties on the front right from her, and pulls out her tongue laughing. Taylor just laughs as well, both her hands on her head fixing the little curls.

"Mummy, it’s hot chocolate.” the five year old replies, automatically switched to her British accent, loves to correct her mum when it comes to pronouncing words the British way. Taylor will never be less impressed by the fact that her child is able to switch accents perfectly within the matter of five seconds. A perk of having multinational parents and growing up in two countries at the same time.

“My little British baby.” Taylor grins, then steals Eleanor’s forehead a kiss. 

“Mommy, can we go to the park today with daddy?” 

Taylor doesn’t say anything for a second, fixes Eleanor’s strand of hair before letting go off her. She stands right in front of the counter where Eleanor is sitting and slurping her hot cocoa. Taylor just quietly nods and Eleanor’s eyes seem to light up just within a few seconds.

“We have to speak to daddy anyways today and see what we’re gonna do for Christmas this year.”

“Mommy can we please celebrate with daddy and grandma?” Eleanor immediately says, places the mug next to her and starts pulling on her mom’s pajama shirt. Taylor knows this version of Eleanor too well. Whenever she really wants something she becomes all clingy and impatient. Taylor just sighs. 

“Baby, we can’t celebrate all together because of covid. I explained that to you before.” Taylor says carefully, looks into Eleanor’s pouty face in the hope to find understanding. 

“I promised you that you will see daddy and grandma for Christmas, we just... haven’t worked out a concrete plan yet.”

Eleanor doesn’t seem to understand what her mom just said, but she nods. The same pout as before. This quarantine situation is hard on Eleanor. Taylor knows that too well.

“Okay.” Eleanor just mouths quietly. Taylor smiles silently. Within a few seconds, her lips are meeting the tiny forehead again. Lips pressed against the soft skin, she kisses her daughter a few times, whispering a low “I love you” in between. Eleanor replies as lightly as always and Taylor helps her jump down from the counter. She quickly encounters Olivia and Benjamin who just made their way to the kitchen to greet the little girl that just got up. Taylor smiles at Eleanor and her quirky way of speaking with the cats. Just like siblings. It makes her laugh sometimes. 

“Okay, Liv. You can play with me but you can’t steal my wedding dress again.” Eleanor says in all seriousness to Olivia as the two cats and the little girl disappear up the stairs. Taylor looks amusedly after them, slowly makes her way to the coffee machine and reaches for her phone that she left here this morning when she made herself coffee number one. With her favorite baby blue cup under the coffee machine, she presses the button and waits a few seconds. Her eyes wander onto her phone screen. Right on top of the background picture of Eleanor in the snow, Taylor reads the texts she missed from her friend Martha. Once Eleanor is with Joe, she definitely needs a class of wine and a good catch up session with her friends. 

“Did you put on your warm socks?”

“Yes.” 

“Good.” Taylor yells back upstairs at her daughter, as she crunches down to grab the cat treats that are buried in the depths of her kitchen drawer. She immediately sees a very excited Benjamin come closer. Taylor grins at him. 

“Of course you are the first one to be in line for treats huh.” she grins, immediately pets him on his head before feeding him.

Just when Taylor was about to close the drawer again, she can hear the doorbell ring. Within a matter of seconds, a very excited Eleanor storms downstairs. Taylor gets up, checks the little screen in the kitchen and feels her stomach churn. It’s always like that, every week when he stands in her front door. The black and white security camera still managing to point out his kind eyes, his voluminous hair, his effortlessness. He’s wearing his thick APC coat. The one he wore years ago when they first met. She still can’t believe he won’t get rid of it, has pointed this out to him multiple times already.

“It’s daddy!” Eleanor yells, and Taylor can already hear Joe’s quiet laugh. Of course there’s never a time when Eleanor simply leaves with Joe and not makes her face him in the doorway. Taylor just approaches Eleanor who’s standing in front of the opened door, looking back at her mum, waiting patiently for her to join her here. Sometimes, Taylor could almost think that she does this on purpose. That she makes sure Taylor has to face her dad every time he comes around to pick her up.

Within a few seconds, Taylor stands in front of him now too, her hand stroking over Eleanor’s wool beanie. The little girl is fully dressed for the winter park, her tiny green jacket matching her cream- colored beanie. Joe almost has no time to face Taylor, because Eleanor is already attacking him, jumping onto his arms to hug him tightly. He immediately picks the small girl up and spins her around a few times, groaning into her ears how much he missed her, placing a little kiss on top of he beanie on her head. Just when he slowly lets her back down to the ground is when Joe has the time to face Taylor.  For once. She just stands there in her cream colored onesie, the one she used to hang out around the house with even back when they were still together. Her feet still wear the same weird fox slippers he used to make fun of. Her hair loosely hanging from the little bun in her neck. She’s not well put together, looks exactly the way only he used to see her around the house. And Joe hates it. He hates that she faces him today, looking like this again. Looking the way she did the first time he stayed over at her place in New York years ago. Not trying at all. Making him feel things he promised himself after last Christmas, to never feel again. Store them under the bed, right in the little box of his past and to lock her up, right in there. And make sure they won’t creep up again, the way they do right now. 

“Hey.” she mumbles, a polite smile escaping her mouth. Joe takes a breath, looks at Eleanor to distract himself for a bit, before looking back up at her again. Facing her has never been easy since last year. But he’s getting better at it.

“Hey, I didn’t see you last time.” he already blurts out, has no clue why his nervous mouth has to just babble like this, without taking into consideration that it makes him look a bit weird and... nervous. Taylor seems just as uncomfortable as he is, laughs insecurely once more, then scratches the back of her head while standing in the doorway. 

“Yeah, I was on a meeting last time you picked her up so..”

Joe just nods. He shouldn’t have said what he said before. Things are already awkward enough between them. 

“Ready to leave, monkey?” He asks Eleanor, who is now sitting on the floor right next to the open door, putting her winter boots on. She nods immediately, seems to struggle a bit with her shoe laces, but is way too excited to sit still while looking at the big dog next to Joe. Taylor smiles. Eleanor loves Flint as much as the cats, always has and always will.

“Yes, daddy. Can I hold Flint again, later?” 

“Of course. He’s so happy to see you too.” Joe mumbles with a smile on his face, crouches down to pet the big old golden retriever. 

“Mummy, can you join us too?” Eleanor pouts, looking up at her mum from the floor. 

Taylor laughs nervously a third time today, just shakes her head no. She can feel Joe’s stare in her neck, knows exactly why he’s so quiet all of the sudden.

“Honey, I told you I have some more work to do.” 

“But mummy..” Eleanor pouts again, becoming as whiny as always when she wants something and Taylor just sighs. 

“It’s good to get some fresh air. Especially now with the whole quarantine thing.” Joe says lightly, and Taylor turns to look at him. She knows his look and he knows hers. 

He tried this before. 

And so did she. 

“I don’t know, I think it’s Eleanor and Daddy time, and…”

“No mummy, please. We can play with Flint together!” Eleanor tries again, now stands fully upright with her winter jacket and red boots next to her, and reaches for her mom’s hand. Taylor just sighs again, looks at Joe once more. She’s rolling her eyes and it makes Joe laugh. He just smiles, knows exactly how good their daughter is at getting what she wants, but makes sure not to look into Taylor’s eyes for too long. It feels like a welcoming distraction when Eleanor suddenly gets closer to him, lets herself fall onto his side once more, just hugging her dad’s leg before petting Flint again. 

“Look mummy, he wants you to come with us.” Eleanor persists, points at Flint who just looks up at Tay. This old dog knows as well what the little girl is trying here. 

Taylor just shakes her head and laughs. Eleanor definitely has that from her. 

“Alright, if dad doesn’t mind..”

“He doesn’t.” Joe grins, and Taylor just nods, takes a step back to signal him that they can come back inside the house for a minute, just until she’s ready. 

“Let me just put on some clothes, I’ll be back in a second.” she mumbles, already starts walking upstairs. Joe just closes the big door behind him, feels the warmth of this house and already smells the sandalwood candles coming from the kitchen. It smells like something he used to know so well. It smells like home. 

“Daddy, come look at my pre- school folder.” Eleanor runs off yelling for him. With Flint next to him, Joe just laughs at his daughter. 

“Darling, my shoes are a bit dirty from outside, I don’t..”

“Please daddy!” Eleanor calls him from the kitchen already. Joe quickly takes his shoes off with one hand, then makes his way into the kitchen. He has to swallow for a second as his eyes fall onto the picture frames placed upon the chimney. All the black and white pictures of the little baby girl. Taylor and Eleanor in the hospital bed. Benjamin and Eleanor on her first birthday. Pictures he took. Pictures that once meant the world to him. And she’s kept it all, certainly made this place a home. 

“Daddy, look, I made this yesterday.” She squirms excitedly, holds the folder right in front of Joe. She’s fully clothed and ready for the cold. Joe has to laugh at her excitement to show him what she’s made. 

“Wow, darling.” He just mumbles, is already crouching down to get a better look at her art project. A big rainbow fish, filled with glitter and confetti decorates the cover. In the middle of the front page, it says Eleanor Alwyn. Pre- School Class of 2020. He couldn’t be prouder. 

“Look, this is a picture of me and mummy in lockdown.” she explains once Joe has opened the first page. He can’t help but smile. 

“What are you two doing?” He asks. 

“We’re watching a Christmas movie, look!” she says, her tiny finger pointing to what seems to be the television. He can’t help but laugh again, slowly turns his head to press a kiss onto her small face. There are no words for how much he loves this little girl. 

“Have you and mum watched many of these this year?”

“Yes!” she just answers, and Joe laughs. Just in that moment, Taylor comes back into the room and sees the two crouching on the kitchen floor with her art folder. Flint is just sitting next to them, looking less excited about the scenery than Joe.

“I’m ready.” she just mumbles, and Joe looks up at her. He’s still smiling, seems to love what Eleanor is showing him.

“Are you showing daddy your pre- school folder?” Taylor laughs, as Joe looks up at her. He seems to catch himself becoming emotional, and slowly gets up. 

“I’m so impressed what you two have been doing in quarantine.” He says with a smirk and Taylor can’t help but laugh as well. 

“We’ve been very productive, haven’t we?” Taylor says and Eleanor nods, seems to not have understood the sarcasm between her parents. 

“Ready?” Joe asks, looks at Taylor with a questioning look. Instead of getting dressed, she just threw a massive puff jacket over her onesie, a pair of black boots replacing the fox slippers and her blonde hair right under the grey beanie. 

“Yeah, I was too lazy to get dressed so…”

“Alright, let’s go.” Joe mumbles, doesn’t comment her choice of outfit any further. Within a few seconds, they have left the house, started walking right into Camberbatch Road, and down the little lane to get closer to Hampstead Park. Whilst today was one of the coldest days so far, the sun is still up, sometimes disappearing behind the thick clouds, but steadily there. Making sure to come back and warm up this cold world at least for some time. 

Eleanor has been as chatty as always when Joe picks her up to go for a walk in the park. For the first few minutes she’s been walking hand in hand with her dad, telling him about today’s class and how excited her class mates on Zoom have been when Benjamin showed up as her teddy bear. Taylor just listens quietly to their conversation and smiles. It’s been a good idea to get some fresh air, even if things with Joe are still more than awkward.

“Has he been sitting still?” Joe asks Eleanor, who immediately starts laughing, throws her head against her dad’s arm just being silly. 

“No.” She laughs and so does Joe. He looks at Taylor and she grins as well. 

“I mean what would you expect of Benji, huh?” 

“Nothing less.” Joe answers. 

A few minutes later the the three have reached the beginning of the Heath and the five year old girl impatiently starts to reach for Flint’s leash. She is getting more and more impatient the closer they came to the big park. Joe quickly stops and then crouches down to be able to properly look at his daughter. 

“Alright bug, be careful and come back to me if another dog comes along, alright?” he asks and Eleanor excitedly nods, as Joe gives her Flint’s leash. Whilst the dog is almost her height, Eleanor confidently starts to run off onto the grass together with Flint by her side. Despite her huge puff jacket, she’s able to run as fast as humanly possible. Joe looks after them, can’t help but laugh quietly as well. 

“Her confidence is everything.” Taylor mumbles while looking after her daughter, making Joe smirk. 

“She’s done this many times, she can handle him.” 

“Oh yeah I know, I.. I didn’t mean that.” She quickly adds and Joe nods, has no clue where the sudden awkwardness is coming from. He simply stares on the ground, can’t dare to look up to her or even right into her face. All he does is look at his feet, how his big winter boots are walking right on the cold ground. There’s not many people around, but more people than usually, two days before Christmas. 

“So how are you?” Joe then asks, lifts up his head to look at what’s right in front of him, sees Eleanor and Flint playing and running on the fields at Hampstead Heath. Just like he did when he was Eleanor’s age. Right on the same grass. A nice circle that’s closing for him.

“I’m good. What about you? How has quarantine been treating you?” She asks, feels his slight laugh, even if she doesn’t look at him. 

“It’s been fine. Just really annoying that we’re going back to Tier 4 again.” he mumbles, is more than happy that coronavirus is once more a great small talk topic to avoid awkward silences. 

Taylor immediately nods, then even dares to look up at him while walking through the park. 

“Ugh I know. This year has been such a mess.” she mumbles and Joe immediately nods.

“It really has been. I’m glad you two are staying safe not traveling.” Joe then says and dares to look at Taylor for the first time today. Taylor looks back at him, then sinks her head covered in her grey beanie once more. She knows exactly how he meant his last statement, and it’s hard for her to take. To feel how much he cares. For both of them. Still.

“Of course. It’s impossible for us to fly around during this time, especially cause pre- school has been extending their classes to make sure the kids are busy until things go back to normal. So it’s been great for her to have a daily schedule to see her friends.” Taylor says, looks at Eleanor who’s no more than a hundred meters away from both of them, running wild with Flint, who seems to barely be able to keep up with her. This poor old dog. 

“Absolutely. You’re.. you’re doing a fantastic job being home with her 24/7. I... I hope you know that if it gets too much, you can just drop her off for a few days and I’ll keep her busy.” 

Taylor looks at Joe and smiles. He’s never offered this to her since they’ve been in lockdown, and it’s more appreciated than he can imagine. With her bare face, Taylor smiles at him, her breath visible in front of her face due to the cold.

“Thanks, I think I might actually have to take on that offer.” She says, a laughing breath of air escaping her. Joe looks up at her once more, a bit confused.

“It’s exhausting to keep her busy 24/7. I’ve been trying to work, but...”

“Taylor, seriously, I live two kilometers away, why didn’t you ask me...”

Taylor wants to interrupt him and explain herself, but she knows too well that there’s no reason for her not calling him. There’s no reason why she didn’t ask for his help, why she didn’t simply put Eleanor in a car and let her stay at his house for a while. There is no reason, and it’s the first time that she realizes that herself might be the only reason for the distance between them right now.

“I... I didn’t know this is something you’d want to do.” She says then, knowing damn well that she’s lying.

“Of course, just... just have her stay with me for a few days after Christmas if you want.” Taylor doesn’t interrupt him, just nods as they continue walking down the Heath. The trees look so sad, have lost their leaves months ago already. Rotten and almost forgotten, do these leaves now remain on the ground, buried under the footprints of the endless amounts of people walking down this park this winter, trying to escape the prison of quarantine. Taylor has noticed before how many people have started going on hikes, connecting with nature again to escape being home all the time. A crazy dynamic for the world they’re all living in.

“Speaking of Christmas,” she then says, kind of happy that she’s been able to change topics. 

“So as you probably know, there’s no way we can visit my parents this year or vice versa so I wanted to ask if it’s fine for you if Eleanor and me celebrate at my house on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day and a day later if you want, you can have her for a few days?” she asks, as  Joe already looks up at her with a confused look. 

“So you want to be alone with Eleanor for Christmas basically?” he asks again, and Taylor can already hear the mood changing in his voice. She really doesn’t want this to turn into an argument, she doesn’t want to disagree with Joe while having a conversation with him for the first time in months.

“I mean we’re in quarantine. The government literally told us to...”

“Tay, she’s five.” Joe suddenly interrupts her, and Taylor doesn’t know what hurts her more. The fact that he called her Tay, which is what only her closest people call her or the fact that he seems upset. She can feel that in his voice.

“She’s five years old and she’s got her dad and her uncles and her grandparents live.. a few meters away. I mean I appreciate that you want to keep her safe but we’re all getting tested tomorrow morning and I really want her to at least have a good Christmas especially in such a shitty year.”

Taylor doesn’t say anything, feels Joe becoming quieter and looking back at her.

“I just...”

“I want you to join as well.” he then suddenly blurts out, and within a matter of seconds, Taylor’s stops and looks at him in confusion. Joe turns around to her, his hands buried in his jacket. It’s freezing and he’s never been happier for the pockets in his black jacket.

“Joe, I... I appreciate you..”

“No Tay, I’m serious. I don’t want you and Eleanor be all alone on Christmas. Not her and not you. It’s... we’re....” 

She can feel him search for words and it already pains her. He hasn’t said it yet and she doesn’t want him to. She knows what’s coming. She knows it too well.

“In some ways we’re still a family and I just don’t want you to sit alone in this house on Christmas Day. With or without Eleanor and...”

“Joe.” Taylor says. Her hand on his arm, she was just about to say something as Eleanor comes running by, seems more than upset. Immediately, Joe understands the situation. Flint has run off, right up to a couple with a small dog. Joe whistles twice and Flint quickly comes running back. “Did he run off?” Joe asks her, as Eleanor just nods quietly. Within a few seconds, Taylor has crouched down onto Eleanor’s height, takes her into her arms. Joe looks confused at the two, only then realized that Eleanor fell when Flint was running off.

“Oh darling, did you hurt yourself?” he asks as Taylor already signals him that the fall wasn’t that bad. Just when she lets go off Eleanor, the little girl hugs her dad once more, crocodile tears falling down her cheeks.

“I hurt my hand” she sobs, and Joe immediately reaches for the slightly bruised and cold hand and kisses it a few times, warming her up.

“My poor little angel.” he mumbles and Eleanor hugs her dad again, placing her head on his shoulders. Taylor can’t help but swallow down a laugh. Eleanor loves to be dramatic, another thing she’s got from her mother. And this little girl also enjoys her dad’s attention more than anything in this world.

“Look, there’s Flint.” Joe then says, just when the dog came running back. Eleanor quickly lets go of Joe and looks at the dog with an upset face.

“You hurt me when you ran off, Flint.” Eleanor says as dramatic as she can be and Taylor as well as Joe try their hardest to stay serious. 

“I think he’s sorry, isn’t he..” Joe mumbles and pets the confused dog a bit. Eleanor also seems to calm down slowly and runs her hand over the dog’s head a few times.

“It’s okay, Flinty.” she then mumbles and Joe laughs, moves his head to kiss her head once more.

“Come on, let’s keep walking together.” Joe says and Eleanor keeps walking next to her dad, hand in hand. After a few minutes, she lets go off his hand once more and runs off. Taylor just looks at her mini- me and smiles. 

How quickly to forget, as a child. How easy to leave a situation and simply move on.

“Alright, alright. One hot chocolate with caramel and whip cream for miss E.” Joe repeats with a laugh on his face, taking his face mask out of his pockets while letting go off Eleanor’s little hand. 

“What can I get you?” He asks Taylor. It’s slowly getting dark outside and they’ve made it back, are now standing in front of the little Starbucks located in the heart of Hampstead Village. Just three shops are open at the moment, offering hot beverages and meals for take away. He can see in Taylor’s make up free face how cold she is. Her cheeks are red and her hands are buried in her own puff jacket pockets. She certainly needs a drink to warm up as much as he does. 

“Mhm maybe…”

“Skinny Caramel Latte?” 

Taylor looks at him, can’t help but smile. She can’t believe he still knows her so well. 

“Sounds good.” 

Joe laughs, winks at her and disappears inside. Taylor looks after him, waiting outside. It’s hard for her to believe sometimes how he hasn’t changed at all. He still knows every little detail of her by heart, and so does she. But maybe, just maybe, he has changed? Maybe he has been able to change for all the reasons she wanted him to, exactly a year ago. A year ago, when she had a piece of what she once knew. A piece of Joe, something she had to leave behind once more. For her, but even more for Eleanor. 

Taylor slowly crouches down to Eleanor, who stands next to Flint and carefully pets his head. 

“Are you cold?” Taylor asks her quietly, but Eleanor shakes her head. She’s exhausted and tired from all the running around and fresh air she’s had today. Taylor can sense that. After the sugar crash from her hot chocolate, Eleanor will certainly sleep well tonight. A gift for her mother also. 

“That was such a fun day with dad, huh?” Taylor asks with an uplifted voice, and Eleanor nods as well. Something is upsetting her. Taylor can sense this immediately.

Wrapped up in her big jacket and beanie covering her ears, Eleanor just stands there. She’s become so quiet since the last few minutes, just strokes Flint’s head up and down. 

“What’s up, baby?” Taylor says quietly, enjoys being so close to her that nobody can hear her but Eleanor. 

Taylor doesn’t get an answer, just witnesses how the corners of Eleanor’s mouth are slowly drooping. In slight shock, Taylor just takes Eleanor into her arms. The little girl starts crying for a second time today, but this time it’s not because she’s hurt her hand. 

“Baby, what’s.. what’s going on? Why are you sad?” Taylor just asks, a bit worried, her hand immediately in her beanie, comforting the cold little girl in her arms. Eleanor slowly lets go off Taylor’s chest and just stares at her mommy. She immediately wipes away the little tears from Eleanor’s cheeks with her thumbs. 

“I don’t want daddy to go home.” 

Taylor feels a punch in her stomach. She knew it. She could’ve known that this would happen. 

“Honey, daddy is first of all getting you a hot chocolate and then..”

“And then he will go home but I don’t want him to go home.” she gets whiny again, and Taylor doesn’t answer, just kisses the cheeky little face a few times. When Taylor and Joe spent time together over Christmas last year, Eleanor had a similar breakdown. And Taylor knows why. It brings back old memories of mommy and daddy together with her. It brings back memories of dad leaving. Memories of her moving into a different house. A house where daddy isn’t living at anymore. 

“I promise you, we will see daddy in a few days. Okay?” 

Eleanor doesn’t answer, and Taylor feels her heart breaking once more. 

This was never what she wanted. This was never what she wanted that day, when Eleanor was laying on her bare chest, opening her eyes for the first time. This was never part of all the promises she gave to the little girl in her arms. 

Just when Taylor was about to comfort her once more, Joe comes out of the shop again, a little brown craft tray with three cups in his hands. As he takes off his mask, he can see Eleanor’s face and the wet little cheeks coming out of the beanie and warm jacket she’s wearing. He can see Taylor’s look. He can feel it up his spine.

“Hey, love. Your hot chocolate.” He just gently says, crouches down to Eleanor just like Taylor did. Eleanor is not crying anymore, but she seems sad. Joe feels that.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, and Eleanor just falls into another hug with him. Joe almost drops the little paper tray, as Taylor takes it from him within a few seconds, holding Flint’s leash in her other hand as well. Joe just hugs his little daughter back, is obviously confused. 

“Sweetheart..”

“Daddy, can you stay with us tonight..”

“Eleanor!” Taylor interrupts her, as Joe just signals Taylor he’s handling this. 

“Darling, why do you want that?” He whispers into her ear. Eleanor just looks up at him, still whining. 

“Because you always go home after we played with Flint.” She says, Joe knows exactly what she means. 

“That’s cause it’s almost dark, my love.” He says, holding her head in his hands. He slowly kisses her forehead once, and then her lips. 

“How about we go home and have our hot chocolate, and then if it’s fine with mummy we can play in your room a bit longer, huh?” Joe says to comfort Eleanor, already got a comforting nod from Taylor. She just stands there, feels shattered for the hundredth time since they’ve been doing this. It’s certainly not the first time that Eleanor is reacting like this after they’ve spent time together. Taylor knows that she misses him. That Eleanor remembers what it was like when dad didn’t have to “go home” and her sleeping place was right between both of them. It’s rare but these are the moments in which Taylor feels like she failed. Feels like she’s been telling herself and Eleanor a big fat lie. The lie that being separated from Joe, would be the right thing. The lie that Joe is the one who brings uncertainty into her life. A lie that’s been reality for her for so many months on end. 

She can’t and won’t forget that.

Joe slowly gets up, kisses Eleanor’s cold little mouth one more time. 

“Daddy might live somewhere else, but I’m never gone. You can always visit me, and I will always visit you.” 

Eleanor immediately reaches for her hot chocolate that Taylor is giving to her and nods. She seems to be happy with his answer - for now. She nips on the cup one time, her eyes still puffy from her tears. 

“Good?” Joe asks and she nods. 

“Good.” She answers and he laughs quietly. She already has a chocolate mustache in her face. 

Joe can’t dare to look at Taylor’s face again, just takes his coffee from the tray in her hands as they slowly start walking home. For the rest of the walk, Taylor is quiet. A bit too quiet for his taste. He knows how she feels, can feel it through her wool beanie and puff jacket. She feels guilty. She feels guilty for something she shouldn’t feel guilty about. 

Just when the three arrive at the front door of the big house, Taylor takes out the key from her pockets and opens up. Eleanor is busy telling Joe about her friend Rosie’s doll house that she misses playing with and how she wishes that Santa Claus would get her the same. 

Taylor still says nothing. Joe slowly gets in, looks at Taylor who just closes the door. 

“Do you want me to put Flint into…”

“Oh yeah, let me get him some water and we can have him wait downstairs. I think the cats would..”

“Yeah sounds great.” Joe says, and thankfully passes Flint on the leash to Taylor. After all, the cats have never got along well with him and they shouldn’t be risking the animals getting into a fight tonight. 

Joe just watches her immediately walk off with him, takes off his shoes himself.

The steps on the staircase creak louder than he intended, slowly makes his way downstairs. Joe is only wearing black socks, his jeans and long sleeve casually covering his upper body. He slowly glances into the living room, can see the big flat screen tv running, but Taylor is nowhere to be seen. Candles on the coffee tableare lit, the little lamp at the end of the big living room turned on, lighting up the room in the most cozy way. He smiles. Taylor always knew how to make a place a home. As he takes a few more steps into the living room, Joe suddenly realizes that Taylor is passed out on the couch, her back facing him from where he stands. He slowly walks up to the tv, doesn’t want to startle her. He remains silent. Taylor is hugging one of the big orchid colored pillows, sleeps silently. The fresh air today seems to have not just helped Eleanor pass out faster than usual - it has made her tired as well. Joe doesn’t move, just looks at her sleeping. This has always been his weakness. Her most angelic state, asleep, right next to him. Joe slowly moves, places his hand on her arm, trying to wake her up gently. 

“Hey, Tay..”

After a second, Tay wakes up and is startled. She quickly sits up, looks at him confusedly and Joe grins. He knows that look too well. She’s always needed a second to come back to life after being asleep. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to…”

“Oh, no no.” she quickly says, scratches her head on the side she’s been laying on. This side of her face has imprinted the pattern of the pillow. Joe smirks, but doesn’t say anything. 

“I’m.. I’m sorry, I just passed out.” 

Joe nods softly. 

“No problem, I just wanted to let you know that Eleanor’s asleep as well. We were playing with her dolls and it took her half an hour to pass out on the carpet. So I just tucked her to bed. Hope that’s alright…” 

“Yeah, perfect. Thank you so much.” she says. 

“Alright, I’m going to get going then.” Joe says. Taylor was about to get up to accompany him to the door as she realizes that they haven’t finished speaking about Christmas. 

“Oh, uhm Joe, can we.. can we quickly speak about Christmas before you leave?” She asks. Joe immediately nods, casually comes around to where she’s sitting and lets himself fall onto the place next to her, right on the big and comfy couch. 

“I almost forgot, you’re right.” 

“I just…” Tay turns down the volume of the tv and looks at him. “Joe, I just wanted to say that… that first of all…”

He can see that she’s thought this through, watches her play with her hands in nervousness while speaking. He knows her too well for her to hide anything. He knows every gesture, every look, every single detail of her body language. She is nervous. She is looking for the right way to say whatever she needs to say. 

“First of all, I appreciate your kindness. So much. In.. in you thinking of me and wanting to invite me for Christmas, but..”

“But?”

“But I really thought about this earlier, and I came to the decision that I want you and Eleanor to celebrate together with your family like you did last year. I really am fine being home with the cats. I’m going to FaceTime my family, watch a movie and go to bed. I think this year the circumstances are even weirder than last year, so I would really prefer to lay low and…”

“May I.. may I say something?” 

Taylor looks at him a bit confused, is not used to him interrupting her in this way. 

“Uhm, sure.” 

“I spoke to my family about this a lot. About how weird things have been between my parents and you. I mean.. you haven’t seen them since Christmas last year and we both know how weird the circumstances were.” He says, referring to the last Christmas. The last time they’ve seen each other. Back when she and Joe were repeating old patterns, making old mistakes. Back then, when she begged him so much to change. Begged him to undo the past years. 

Taylor looks at him in shock, thinking about the fact that his family has been speaking about her. She has no idea where this is going, but she surely knows that her hands are getting sweatier the second they speak.

“And… Tay, I…” he stops again, looks at the insides of his hands. She’s barely experienced Joe like this. The only time he’s searched for words was when he asked her to marry him, years ago, years before Eleanor was in the picture and she turned him down. Bits and pieces of their history coming up in her while he sits there, as handsome as always, speaking to her. 

“I know a lot happened between us, but.. this year, more than ever, I realized that you and me we will always be family. You.. you’re Eleanor’s mum. You’re my daughter’s mother. And I want us to achieve what we didn’t manage to achieve last year. Being friends. Being family. I just.. I wish we could be fine again.”

Taylor feels goosebumps coming up, immediately nods. She relates to what he says. They will forever be connected. They will forever have to see each other. And things certainly would be easier, if they were cool with each other and she wouldn’t have to go into hiding whenever he comes to pick up his daughter. 

“I know, Joe. Me too, really.” 

“And actually, it was my mum’s idea. She.. she asked me to speak to you. And to ask if you want to come over on Christmas Eve. As I said, we will all get tested tomorrow so we can make sure everyone’s safe. I think it would mean a lot to my family to reconnect and.. especially to me.”

Taylor looks at him, and for the first time in a while, she honestly smiles. There’s no hesitation, no hiding, no underlying thought - she wanted exactly that. Even last year, she wanted nothing more than for them to be fine again, especially with his family. Eleanor’s family. And therefore, her family. 

“I want to reconnect too.” She then adds, sees in Joe’s face how relieved he seems to be. He smirks the same smirk she knows too well, his blue eyes shining, shyly looks down to hide the fact that he’s indeed smiling widely. She feels a bit drunk, looking at his smile, at his shy way of sitting there again. The way he always did.

“And I.. I’m sorry, Joe.” her mouth suddenly moves. He looks up at her. “I’m sorry for.. for sleeping with you and then disappearing.” she says, can see in his face that he didn’t expect her to go there. And neither did Taylor. She nervously changes her seating position on the couch, moves her leg up under her bum, pulls the sleeves of her onesie over her knuckles, while looking into his face. 

“It was wrong, I played with fire.. I think we both played with fire. But it wasn’t right of me to just disappear. I know I kept saying, I want you to change, I want you to be more grown up, more responsible, but… right now, it seems like you’re more responsible and more grown up than me.” she says softly, shrugs with her shoulders and looks into his face with every ounce of honesty. Joe doesn’t move, he nods. He’s thankful. He’s never been more thankful for anything she’s ever said to him. 

“I have changed this last year, yeah.” he then adds. She looks at him, the flicker of the tv in the darkness reflecting onto his face. It’s only 8pm, yet it’s fully dark outside. A classy, depressing English winter evening. But Taylor doesn’t feel depressed anymore. Taylor sits here, and feels how warm and tingly everything in her is getting. The kind of warmth you would expect when something finally happens that you’ve been praying for a long time. She knew he had changed. She knew it every Wednesday, and every Sunday when he stood in the door, picking up Eleanor to spend time with him. She knew every time the phone rang, and Eleanor would excitedly tell him about her day for at least half an hour. Every time Eleanor would come home, happily fall into her arms, telling her about her adventures with her dad. 

“I know you have.” she quietly says, a smile on her face. Joe looks up again, the mood as warm and familiar as ever. He doesn’t say anything, simply reaches for her hand. And Taylor remains quiet too, just lets him hold hers. It’s been a year. It’s been ages. It’s been a lifetime of Taylor and Joe, yet it feels like only a second since he last did this. Simply hold her hand. Just sit there, being there. 

Actually being there. 

“I should.. I should get going.” he then says, lets go off her. She just nods, gets up together with him. She can feel that he’s been overwhelmed. And so was she. Joe slowly walks into the hallway, and Taylor tuns on the little light, right on the side board. 

“So, you.. you can get tested too if you want. Dinner’s at 6 o’clock. My mum told me to ask if you want to stay over…”

Taylor leans in the door frame, watches him put his winter boots back on. She smiles. Nothing compares to the warmth she feels at the thought of Elizabeth wanting her there. Her second mother. That’s how close they used to be years ago. 

“That’s incredibly sweet but, I think I will just go home after dinner. Eleanor can sleep with you. I can come back in the morning for presents.” 

Joe nods, accepts her decision fully. 

“Should I.. should I bring something for dinner? I can make dessert, or..”

“No, just bring some Eleanor.” Joe jokes, Taylor laugh quietly. He can see in her eyes, what a massive relief there is. She seems so light, lighter than he’s witnessed her in years. Nothing ever made her more beautiful to him, than her most honest smile. 

“Okay, will do that.” 

Joe gets up, opens the big door himself. 

“Alright then.” She says. Joe smiles one more time. He laughs. And so does Taylor. Things certainly are a bit awkward still. 

“Come here.” he then casually mumbles and pulls her into a tight hug. Taylor doesn’t say anything, lets him hug her tight. She closes her eyes, both her hands hugging him back. She doesn’t want this hug to end. It feels better than last year. It feels more real. honest. raw. They’ve come quite a long way. 

“Thank you so much.” she mumbles once more, and Joe ends the hug, smiling at her once more. 

“You too.” He whispers, then slowly lets go off her and leaves the house. Taylor just stands in the doorway and watches him walk off. She waves one last time, only until he’s left the road her house is on and then closes the door. 

She looks into the big mirror one last time, fixes her messed up bangs and makes sure her long sleeve cotton dress covers everything it needs to cover. The past two days have been interesting. She’s been telling her friends about this afternoon with Joe. About their holding hands, their hug, his invitation for her to join their family Christmas again. Taylor couldn’t be more thankful yet she knows that she needs to take it slow. That if they’re really onto something real and good, then this time, they need to take it extra slow. 

Taylor turns around again, then perfects her red lipstick. Even though she wants ‘extra slow’, she can still look fabulous tonight.

“Honey? We need to leave.” Taylor yells upstairs, hears Eleanor answering her from the bathroom. Taylor quickly puts on her black coat, grabs her tiny handbag and walks upstairs. Just when she enters her daughter’s room is when she has to laugh. There’s tiny bits of paper everywhere, it seems that Eleanor’s self made presents have certainly taken up a lot of paper and created quite a mess in this room. But Taylor can’t be strict today. She knows how excited Eleanor is for today. And so is she.

“Ready?” Taylor asks, looks at her baby girl collecting her favorite toys for her tiny backpack that she wants to bring for her sleepover at grandma’s house.

“Yes, mommy. Look, all my presents are in here.” she says, shows her mum the little paper bag she has designed herself with all the kitten stickers on top of it. Taylor laughs, bends down to kiss Eleanor’s hair. 

“Come on, put your shoes and jacket on. Brandon is outside waiting for us.” she says and Eleanor storms downstairs. A few minutes later, Taylor fixes the mask on her face before getting into the big black car where Brandon is sitting. Right next to Eleanor, Taylor feels her stomach churning. She feels as nervous as back then when she would meet his family for the first time. In a way, it feels exactly like that. It’s meeting them again since a very long time. A very long time with absolutely no contact. Filled with fears and guilt and anger.

But not tonight.

After less than fifteen minutes, the big black car stops right in front of the little brick stone house right at Budwick’s Lane. Eleanor gets out of the car, her little backpack on, as happy as ever. Taylor closes the car’s door, carries the pink bag with Eleanor’s toiletries and clothes, waving Brandon goodbye. 

While Eleanor is already running up to the doors entry, Taylor feels how nauseous she suddenly gets. Standing there for a minute, she just takes a good look at the old brick stone a house, covered in ivy. The light shining out from the little hatch, right above the guest bathroom window. This house was once her first home away from home, in this country. So many memories that she feels all at once. Good and bad ones. Taylor suddenly wonders, if this was really Elizabeth’s idea? After all, she will never be able to forget Elizabeth’s angry stare a year ago at Eleanor’s theatre performance at pre- school. 

Without Taylor being able to take a last deep breath, the old door opens and Richard stands there, Eleanor immediately jumping onto his arms. He hasn’t changed. He’s still Joe’s dad.

“Grandpa!” Eleanor yells, seems just as happy as Richard to see her. 

“My little monkey.” he smiles, kisses the five year old on her head. Taylor just stands there, swallowing once. 

“Merry Christmas.” she just says, slowly follows her daughter who’s been running off into the living room already. Richard just stands there and smiles, then does something she never expected. Within a few seconds, he just signals her to come in and pulls her into a warm hug. Just like he did back then. 

“Merry Christmas, Taylor.” he says, then slowly let’s go. “You look fantastic, have you been well this year?” Taylor is certainly a bit overwhelmed by the hug, nods immediately as Richard helps her take off her jacket. 

“I’m great! How are you?” she asks, just looks around and feels the greatest sensation of ‘home’ she could ever imagine. The old fireplace in the living room is lit, she can see that from the hallway. Laughter and Joe’s voice is coming from kitchen. The smell of Elizabeth’s Christmas pie. Nothing has changed. 

“Oh thanks, we’re good as always. Come in, I think Elizabeth..” Taylor walks in, when just in that moment, Elizabeth stands right in front of her. This is the moment she’s been dreading the most. 

“Merry Christmas!” Taylor just stutters, feels an immense amount of relief when Elizabeth smiles warmly. The sixty year old woman hasn’t changed the slightest. Her brown hair hanging down her shoulders. She quickly places the kitchen towel on the counter and walks towards Taylor.

“We’re very happy you two are joining us.” Elizabeth says, then hugs Taylor as well. But this time, the hug is slower. More honest. Taylor closes her eyes, feels how emotional she’s getting. This place, these arms, used to be family. No matter what is and no matter what has been, she couldn’t be more thankful for this peace offer from her side. As Taylor slowly let’s go, Elizabeth smiles at her warmly.

“I missed you.” she says quietly. Taylor nods immediately. 

“I missed you too.”

Just when Taylor was about to say something else, Eleanor starts to pull on Taylor’s dress.

“Mummy, mummy look! Santa Claus already left me one present under the tree for tonight.” she yells excitedly. Taylor as well as everyone else in near proximity laughs quietly at the young girl’s excitement. Just when Taylor was about to crouch down to tell Eleanor how happy she is for her, is the moment when Joe suddenly stops in front of her, pulls Taylor into another hug. 

But this one is making her knees go weaker than the ones before.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” he whispers, and Taylor closes her eyes. If only he knew how happy she is to be here. 

After a few seconds, Joe slowly lets go and looks at her smiley face. Her cheeks are red and she seems flushed. He knew it would mean the world to her to finally leave behind the conflict she had with his family. 

“I’m glad to be here too.” she smiles at him, as Joe slowly takes her hand and walks into the living room with her. Right next to the big Christmas tree that is lit up with dozens of little lights, Taylor can see Patrick and Tom stand there with Nicole and two other people. A bit confused, Taylor just lets him take her by the hand. 

“I’m so happy that you get to finally meet Naomi.” he then says, comes to a full stop with Taylor right in front of the brunette woman. With long brown hair and the most stunning smile, Naomi gives Taylor the hand and smiles warmly. 

“Taylor, so nice to finally meet you.” she says and Taylor feels like someone just ripped out her stomach and put it back in again. With shaky hands, Taylor forces herself to smile back at the woman, looks more than confused at Joe. He seems so nervous, carefully places his hand on Naomi’s back, his gentle eyes looking at the brunette girl, ensuring she’s doing fine. Taylor feels like fainting, uses all the power within her to remain standing. Right here, in this living room, where she was once the one meeting family. Right here, where she was once the one being looked after by his kind eyes. The living room in which their daughter celebrated almost every Christmas so far. 

“Nice to meet you too.” Taylor then brings out, is more than proud of herself for having been able to say these few words.

Shocked but more than angry at herself, Taylor looks at Naomi and back at Joe. How stupid she was, to think that his peace offer was for more than them reconnecting. He wanted to them to be civil. He wanted to finally close the chapter Taylor. 

How stupid she was.

Taylor immediately looks at Eleanor, who pulls once more on her dress. Taylor never thought she could be so happy to be interrupted by her daughter, but she is. She is thankful for every second, in which she doesn’t have to face Naomi or Joe or worse - them both together.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I was so nervous to meet you, so... wow I’m really embarrassing right now.” Naomi says to Taylor, who’s now looking up at her again. Taylor swallows, fakes her nicest smile. And she’s doing quite well so far. She’s doing well, up until she sees Joe’s soft laugh, and his hand that is right on her back again, stroking her up and down. 

“Tay, hey.” a young man suddenly says, and Taylor turns around. She sees Patrick standing in front of her, who hugs her immediately. He’s taller than she remembered and it’s still hard for her to comprehend that he’s no longer the shy fourteen year old she once knew, but instead a twenty- two year old university graduate. For the first time tonight, she honestly feels happy to shake someone else’s hand. Someone she hasn’t met before.

“This is Jess, my girlfriend.” 

Taylor smiles at the blonde girl and then at Patrick.

“So nice to meet you!” she quickly says, then looks at Patrick again.

“Joe said you two moved in together?” Taylor asks, and Patrick nods. Taylor smiles warmly. She’s more than happy for Patrick. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Tay.” Patrick says, and as always, she can still feel the truth in his words. Ever since back then, when she and Joe picked him up from his field trip, and that one evening in her rental house when she and Patrick had pizza and spoke about his heart break - ever since then, Patrick and her had a great bond. It’s not just Joe, who she lost. She also lost Patrick, his parents, this home. 

A life. 

Taylor can feel Joe’s glance. She can feel how he constantly looks back at her, reassuring himself she’s doing fine after meeting Naomi. And Taylor immediately feels her acting skills come up. She wants him to think she’s fine. She wants him to think that she’s untouchable, healthy, happy. That she’s moved on like him. That she didn’t spend the last hours recalling every moment of Monday afternoon.  

Not at all.  

To Be Continued.

[calwrites]

The Gala (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Reader is dreading spending the weekend with her family. Of course, even a gala is interesting when you’re a member of the BAU.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 6.7k

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

Time seemed to move slowly around you as you watched helplessly as your team moved around you. Surely there was something that you could be doing. Some way that you could be of use. But all you could do was sit there and watch.

It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. You had gone around asking everyone if there was something that you could do to help. You had even asked Penelope if you could clean her computer screens for her. She had very firmly told you never to touch her computers. It was probably the most scared you had ever been of a woman wearing a neon pink dress and a headband with cat ears. 

Really, it didn’t make much sense. How were you so on top of all your paperwork, while your coworkers were so behind? And why wouldn’t they just let you do more of their paperwork for them? You had already managed to spend most of the day doing some of Emily’s, but she had eventually cut you off. Apparently she had told the rest of the team not to let you help out too.

This was a betrayal you never thought you would face. Of everyone in this office, you thought Emily would always have your back when it came to avoiding family. The two of you had similar relationships with your mothers. Of course, you couldn’t even admire your mother for being a diplomat like she could. Instead, you just had to pretend to be impressed by the charity balls and silent auctions that your mother organized.

That was how you found yourself in this situation. Prentiss continued to work, trying her best to ignore you, as you continued to glare at her. You didn’t even notice that you had been furiously clicking your pen until Reid spoke.

“Uh Y/N, are you okay?” You jerked a bit in surprise, having been so focused on trying to make Prentiss feel your anger. Setting the pen down quickly, you looked over at Reid a bit guiltily. “You’ve been clicking your pen a lot, which you only do when you’re nervous or upset.”

“Sorry, Reid,” you apologized. Reid’s desk was right next to yours. When you had first started at the BAU almost a year ago, it had been obvious that Reid wasn’t thrilled to have someone at the desk next to his, though he tried to hide it. You still weren’t sure if it was because of a germaphobe thing or Reid not wanting to get distracted by a deskmate or what, but, thankfully, the two of you worked together well. Most of the time, you ignored each other unless one of you had a question for the other. You kept your desk organized, so Reid didn’t get distracted by a messy desk in his line of sight. If anything, Reid distracted you more than you distracted him. You didn’t really mind when Reid would start telling you facts about something he had just read, though. It was always interesting.

“She’s just avoiding leaving the office because she doesn’t want to go home.” You turned back to glare at Emily as she spoke. “Oh come on. Really? It’s not my fault.”

“Well you’re the one who won’t let me do your paperwork. I’m going to remember this the next time you ask for some help.”

“Why don’t you want to go home? Trouble with your neighbors again?” Giving Emily one last glare, you turn back to Spencer. He had the most adorable confused expression on his face. Not that you should be finding your coworkers adorable.

“Not my apartment. I have to go to my parents’ house.”

Reid opened his mouth, no doubt to question why you were going and why you didn’t want to and why you were going even though you didn’t want to, but you were saved by Hotch exiting his office. With any luck, there would be an important case that could be your excuse not to go. Although you probably shouldn’t be hoping that there was a serial killer that needed to be tracked down.

Hotch’s eyes met yours as he walked down the stairs. Probably not a case, then. “Y/N, what are you still doing here?” Definitely not a case, then. “You’re going to miss your flight if you don’t leave soon.”

“Tragic,” you mutter. At Hotch’s blank stare, you continued, “I was just sticking around to see if I could be of any help.”

“Yeah, sticking like gum on the bottom of a shoe,” Emily interjected. She gave Hotch an exasperated look. “I keep telling her to leave, but she won’t.”

Truly, this was the officially the greatest betrayal you had experienced. It was one thing to stop giving you paperwork, but telling on you? Unbelievable.

“Well what if there’s a case and I’m at the airport? It would just be a hassle to get back.” Hotch continued to look stoically at you as you pleaded your case. You had always found it a little unnerving how he managed to keep his face like that all the time.

“If there’s a case, then you won’t be going on it either way,” Hotch said slowly, like he was explaining something to Jack. You glared at Emily, who was wearing a smug grin. “You asked for this time off, so you’re going to take this time off. Now, get out of here before you miss your flight. You can’t take the jet. It doesn’t matter how many times you ask.”

“Well it’s just sitting there,” you grumble. Still, you start gathering your things. It was useless to argue with Hotch. He was right. When your mother had asked, well begged really, you to do her one favor, you had foolishly agreed before hearing what the favor was. It was a mistake you hadn’t made in years, but you blamed it on the fact that you were in the middle of a case when she had called.

“Why are you so upset about getting to leave early, sweet thing?” Morgan asked. He had been a silent spectator of your struggle. Maybe if you had gone to him for paperwork first you could have lasted longer. He was probably less likely to cut you off than Emily was. “I would love to be able to start my Friday night early.”

“No one wants to know what you do on a Friday night,” you quipped as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

Derek raised an eyebrow at you. “Are you jealous that I’ll be spending my evening with someone else? Are you just going to miss me that much this weekend?”

You put your hands over your heart as dramatically as you could manage. “Yes! Whatever will I do? I won’t be able to see Derek Morgan all weekend. How will I survive?” If your mother had been there, she would have scolded you for being overly dramatic. Your team, however, rolled their eyes and smiled.

“Get out of here, sweet thing. And have a good weekend.” You glared at Derek, then Emily, then Hotch, but you couldn’t keep it up. A small smile tugged at your lips as you made your way to the elevator.

“I hate you all. I hope you have a boring and safe weekend.”

“What did I do?” you could just hear Reid ask as the elevator doors closed.

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

“Oh I’m just so happy that you finally took time out of your busy life to come by for a visit. Of course, I would love if you came to see us in the city. New York is so much closer to DC than the Vineyard is. It is so nice to have all of my girls here for the weekend. We really should do this more.”

You tried your best not to look like you were ignoring your mother as she continued to chatter while she finished doing your hair. It had been a long day and you hadn’t even made it to the gala yet. Your mother had insisted on having an early morning tennis tournament with your sisters. It was something you had done most weekends growing up, but it didn’t work as well now. It was a little hard having a tournament when two of your sisters were pregnant and the third never woke up before ten. So you woke up at 7 to play against your mom.

At least afterwards you had gotten to have brunch with your family at your favorite brunch spot in Martha’s Vineyard. It had been nice to catch up with your sisters, though you mom still had a tendency to rule over all conversation. Brunch was more chaotic than it had been in years. Your older sister already had two kids, with the third on the way. Luckily, her husband was always quick to chase after them whenever they tried to make a break for it. You wished you could run away with them.

You had tried to act surprised when Kelly announced that she and her boyfriend were engaged, but you had known for two months. Kelly had let it slip when you were talking on the phone. You had also known exactly what your mom would say after the congratulations stopped.

“Well, I guess it’s Y/N’s turn.” All eyes turned to you. Your father and sisters looked apologetic, though Kelly also seemed a bit annoyed that you were stealing her thunder. Not that you wanted it. “Rachel, my first born, is about to have her third baby. And now my babies,” she smiled at the twins, Lily and Kelly, “are both going to be married. I just want you to be taken care of, Y/N.”

“I can take care of myself.” You tried to sound as civil as possible, but this was a conversation you and your mother had already had. You didn’t think she meant anything by her comments, at least that’s what you chose to believe. She just had antiquated ways of thinking. Growing up, you hadn’t realized just how antiquated. It wasn’t until college, when you and your roommate had been watching Gilmore Girls. The two of you had laughed about something Emily said. Of course, she was laughing because of how ridiculous it seemed that anyone would think like Emily. You were laughing because your mother had done the exact same thing the other month.

“We know that,” your father tried to save you, but your mother cut him off.

“You’ve just been so focused on your job. Now you’re in the BAB-”

“BAU.”

Your mother waved her hand like there was no difference. You had to focus on steadying your breaths to keep yourself from interrupting your mother as she continued her speech. It wasn’t anything new. You’ve reached a good spot in your career. You’re almost 30 and not getting any younger. Surely you wanted kids soon.

“So is there anyone in DC you’re not telling us about?” Kelly asked. You shook your head as you continued to eat. Any minute now your family would remember that you were the middle child and therefore should be ignored.

“What about that Spencer guy?” Rachel asked, immediately making you regret telling her about Spencer. Unfortunately, you couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up as you thought about him. You had had a crush on Spencer since you started at the BAU. After almost a year of working with him, you thought you had it under control. “You talk about him a lot.”

“We work together. I spend a lot of time with all of my teammates.” Hopefully, they would let it go and start talking about baby showers or something. Of course, you weren’t that lucky.

“Not all of you teammates are hot geniuses who are the same age as you.” Of course Rachel had looked him up. She seemed to think that it was her duty as your older sister to find a boyfriend for you.

You were saved from responding by your phone beeping. “It’s a text from Spencer Reid!” Lily gasped, leaning over you to look at your phone.

“It’s work,” you snapped. You quickly excused yourself, going outside before opening the text. The team had a case. Hotch wanted you to be aware, but had forbidden anyone from telling you any more than that so that you wouldn’t hop on a plane to meet them. He seemed determined to make you spend time with your family.  Not that he knew what he was subjecting you to. The only person who knew that you came from a family of Manhattan socialites was Emily, and you had only told her because the two of you had actually met at some event your mothers were both attending before you started working at the BAU.

So now you were stuck here, sitting still while your mother pulled your hair in an attempt to style it. About to be forced into a dress that your mother had assured you was “absolutely perfect.” Emily had shuddered in sympathy when you told her that. It didn’t get any better once your mother was done making you look presentable. She rounded up you and your sisters, so that she could take pictures. Luckily, you all still knew the drill so pictures didn’t take too long. You couldn’t wait for this night to be over. The dress was uncomfortable, the shoes pinched your feet, and you had already been reprimanded for touching your hair and face.

“Oh look at my girls. I feel like I’m in Pride and Prejudice.” You mother fanned herself as she looked at the four of you.

“There are five girls in Pride and Prejudice. You’re thinking of the four girls in Little Women. And both of those families were poor,” you corrected her before you could stop yourself. Your mother threw you a glare, but then ignored you, choosing instead of focus on getting everyone out the door and to the gala.

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

The night didn’t get any easier once you were there. It was just like all of the other events you had attended at the Vineyard. A bunch of snobby people you had known since you were little pretending to like each other. It was the first event you had attended since joining the BAU. You passed the time profiling whoever your mother was talking to. She seemed determined to keep you with her at all times tonight. It was becoming increasingly apparent why.

“So what did you think about the Malcolm boy?” she asked as said boy walked away.

“I thought he was boring. And I think you should stop trying to set me up with all of the men at this party.”

“I’m not trying to set you up with all the men. Just the single ones who are around your age.” You tried to respond, but your mother was already off to the next man, dragging you along behind her.

“Thomas,” she called, approaching a group. Your breath caught as the man turned around. “Y/N, you remember Thomas Barnes?” You smiled politely, though you wanted nothing more than to wring your mother’s neck.

“Of course,” you replied tersely. Your smile became much more genuine when you met Tommy’s eyes.

“That’s a relief,” he joked. “We only dated for six years.” The two of you embraced warmly. It was the first time you had seen him since you broke up. He looked even better than he had back then. “How’s the FBI? I don’t know how you do it. I get nervous just reading about your cases.”

“You read about my cases?” you asked in surprise. Part of you had always assumed that Tommy would resent you for joining the FBI. After all, that was what had caused you to break up after you both graduated from college.

“Of course! I get to brag about how my ex girlfriend is a badass FBI agent. It gets my friends to shut up when they start telling me that I was an idiot for letting you go.” You were so caught up in your conversation that you didn’t even notice your mother slipping away into the crowd, a pleased look on her face. She had never made it a secret that breaking up with Tommy was the worst mistake you ever made as far as she was concerned. Joining the FBI was a close second.

You cleared your throat a bit uncomfortably. “The FBI is good. Keeps me busy. This is the first time I’ve seen my family in months.”

“Oh, I can let you get back to them.”

Your hand shot out to grab his arm as he began to turn away. “Please don’t,” you begged. When Tommy laughed it felt like you were kids again, sneaking champagne glasses when your parents weren’t looking. “How’s New York? I’ll admit that I don’t read about your financial world, but I hear you’re doing very well in it.”

“New York is good. We don’t have to talk about my job. It’s boring.” The two of you stood in an awkward silence for a few seconds. You tried to ignore some part of your brain that was telling you that there were eyes on you. No doubt your family was watching you like a hawk. Not to mention all of the other guests who were probably curious about the FBI agent. “I heard that Kelly is engaged. Tell her congrats.”

“I will. So anyone back in New York? I’m hoping that my mother hasn’t resorted to trying to set me up with men who aren’t single.”

“No. No one in New York. You know, my parents tell me all the time that I should have married you when I had the chance. They want grandkids.”

“I get that. My sisters have the grandkids taken care of already, but my mother won’t rest until I’m finally married too.”

The two of you laughed and chatted. It was strange. It felt like no years had passed and suddenly you were eighteen again, but it also felt like there was some unspoken gap between you two now. Despite all of your history, your lives had taken you to such different places. Still, it was nice to have a friendly face.

Tommy sighed before taking a big gulp of his champagne. Your stomach suddenly twisted when you realized what he was about to do. “I should have just said screw it to New York and moved to DC with you. I was an idiot for letting you go. And none of my relationships have worked out because I think I’m still in love with you.”

Any words that you could have said were stuck in your throat. You thought about how you had turned down a position in the New York field office after you graduated from the academy because you didn’t want to be tempted to go back to Tommy. You thought about how you had turned down the chance to run the New York field office a month before you made it into the BAU. And suddenly, you were thinking about Spencer. How he smelled like coffee and old books all the time. How fun it was to annoy him by arguing about the interpretation of books. How cute he looked when he was working on a particularly hard crossword. How he was looking right at you right now.

You blinked in surprise. Across the room was Spencer Reid. Standing there in a suit like it was obvious that he was supposed to be here. Surely that wasn’t real. It had to be your brain playing tricks on you. Why would Spencer be here?

“Y/N?” Your eyes snapped back to Tommy before flicking back over to where Spencer was standing. There was no one there. Shaking your head a bit, you focused on Tommy again.

“I...I, uh…” You just couldn’t say any words. Tommy’s face fell as your mouth continued to open and close.

“Hey, sweet thing.” An arm was casually thrown around your shoulders, causing Tommy to frown at the man now standing next to you. You didn’t even need to look to know who it was, though it made no sense for him to be there. “I think we need to talk.”

“Hey man, leave her alone,” Tommy said, puffing out his chest a bit. Your heart warmed a little bit for Tommy, who was trying so hard to seem like he could protect you.

“It’s okay,” you told him, causing him to frown even more, before turning. “Derek, what are you doing here?”

“Come with me and I’ll tell you.” The look in Derek’s eyes made it clear: this was not something Tommy, or any of the people eavesdropping, should hear.

“Y/N, do I need to get security?”

“No, Tommy. This is my friend Derek. I have to go. I’ll see you later.” Before Tommy could say anything else, Derek was leading you away from the party and into the kitchens, where the rest of your team was gathered.

“If you missed me this much you could have just asked me to meet you for the case,” you said as they looked up at you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” JJ asked. Her eyes widened as she took in your dress. “Are you a guest?”

“My mother organized this gala. I have to be here. What are you guys doing here?” You didn’t need to ask. You knew what the answer would be.

“Trying to catch a serial killer.” Hotch’s face was as stoic as ever as he answered. “Morgan, did you see anything?”

“No. Reid is still out there, but I saw Y/N and thought that we should bring her up to speed. She could have some valuable information about the unsub. I also thought that she could use an excuse to get away from lover boy out there.”

You groaned as everyone raised their eyebrows. “My ex just told me he still loves me, but I think we should focus on the serial killer first.”

JJ pulled out a picture of the unsub. “She’s been killing men around New York City that we believe are surrogates for a man here. The overkill is getting worse, so she’s devolving. We think that tonight is her endgame. Profile says she’s after an ex boyfriend.”

“We haven’t been able to find her here though,” Emily added.

You kept looking at the familiar face. “Yeah and you won’t. She’s banned.”

“What do you mean?���

You looked at Hotch. “Two months ago she caused a big scene at a charity auction. She’s been blacklisted from basically all events thrown at the Vineyard. My sister was telling me about her a few weeks ago.”

“The killings started two months ago. Y/N, do you know why she caused a scene?”

You shook your head. “Something about her ex being there. I don’t know who her ex is though.”

JJ pulled out another picture and handed it to you. A string of curses fell out of your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asked urgently.

“This is my sister’s fiance.” Everyone’s faces paled. Your mind started running a million miles a minute. “They got engaged two months ago. She had to have been stalking him to know that, though. They didn’t tell anyone until today. They didn’t even tell my family until this morning. I have to go find Kelly.”

“Morgan, go with her. Prentiss, JJ, and I will come up with a plan in here and let security know what’s going on. If you see Reid, get him up to speed, but don’t be suspicious.” Everyone nodded as Hotch gave the orders. You were a little grateful when Derek took her arm, steadying you as you wanted to rush out to get to you little sister. But it was important that you look like nothing was wrong. While the unsub shouldn’t be able to get inside, that didn’t always stop them.

Derek, like Spencer, was dressed in a suit, so he didn’t stand out. The two of you meandered through the room in search of your sister and her fiance. Finally, you managed to locate them. Of course, your mother was with them too. Her eyes lit up when she saw you walking arm in arm with Derek.

“This is my coworker-” you began before your mother cut you off.

“You must be Spencer Reid, the hot genius my daughter was talking about earlier.” Your cheeks felt like they were on fire and you could basically feel the grin on Derek’s face.

“Spencer Reid the hot genius?” he questioned, turning to look at you. You refused to meet his eyes, but you knew that he wouldn’t let it go later.

“First, Rachel doesn’t know what she was talking about. Second, this is Derek Morgan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I can see where Y/N gets her beauty.” You elbowed Derek, but the damage was done. Your mother would definitely try to set you up with him.

You looked at Kelly’s fiance. “Have you seen your ex here?” He looked caught off guard by the question, which was fair to be honest. Kelly looked furious.

“I can’t believe you. Are you trying to ruin our night? You know that she can’t be here after that fit she threw a few months ago.”

“We also know that she has been murdering men who look like your fiance, and she’s probably here tonight. Does anyone want a drink?” You followed Derek’s eyeline to the bar, where Spencer was standing.

“Do you need help with the drinks?” your father asked. It wasn’t clear whether he was trying to be helpful or whether he just wanted an escape from the serial killer conversation.

“I’ll find some help at the bar,” Derek told him. Then he was off, leaving you with your family.

“Are you saying my ex is here to kill me?” You met his eyes, a look of practiced sympathy on your face.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. My team is here to make sure that doesn’t happen. So I need you to tell me everything that happened with your breakup. My team will be listening.” You brushed your hair slightly to show the earpiece you had picked up when you were in the kitchen. “I also need you to act like everything is fine. Grab Kelly’s hand and smile.”

Thankfully, he seemed to understand the importance of what you were saying. The quick explanation was nothing that the team didn’t already know, but it was helpful to hear it in his own words. Maybe there was something in there that could help them. Kelly’s glare continued to be fixed on you, but that was kind of normal. If anyone saw anything, they might think that it was just two sisters fighting.

“Is that the only reason you came?” your mother asked once he was done. “You’re just using us to catch a killer?”

“Be quiet.” It was hard to force the words out without breaking your pleasant smile. You let your eyes harden for a second as your mother met your eyes. It was the same look that had made a number of unsubs confess during an interrogation, but it was the first time you had used it on your mother. “I didn’t know that my team’s new case was here. I came to this stupid gala because you asked me to. Now I need all of you to pretend like everything is fine.”

“Drinks for everyone. And I found an extra set of hands to help me at the bar.” Derek and Spencer passed everyone a glass. As he handed one to you, Spencer let his other hand rest on your lower back for a moment. His eyes seemed to ask you a question. Are you okay? You nodded once. Your mother, of course, was looking quickly between the two of you.

“Is this one Spencer?” she asked. You had to press her eyes closed tightly to keep yourself from glaring at her again. Someone was trying to murder her future son-in-law and she was still worried about setting you up.

“Yes, this is our resident hot genius,” Derek answered. You both ignored Spencer’s “What?” as you turned to Derek.

“Morgan, go with my parents to get my other sisters. If the unsub gets desperate, she could go for them. Reid and I will stay here. Thank god the kids aren’t here.”

“Kids?” Spencer asked as your mother led Derek away. Despite the threat to your family, she continued to pause to give a quick words or smile to her acquaintances. She certainly played her job of host well.

“My niece and nephew. They’re at home with a nanny. My other sisters are pregnant though. I want to make sure they’re safe in case anything happens.”

“How many sisters do you have?” Spencer asked at the same time Kelly questioned, “Aren’t you going to get us out of here? I mean, there’s a psycho on the loose.”

“The profile actually doesn’t suggest that she’s a psychopath.” That did little to calm Kelly, but it was a typical Reid response.

“I have three sisters, Reid. Kelly, we can’t get you out of here without setting the unsub off. If she thinks that you know anything is going on or that she’s losing her chance to get even, she could devolve even more and this could all get much worse. We have to keep you here, pretend everything is fine, and catch her before she has a chance to hurt anyone. If you see the unsub, don’t react. Just calmly tell us where she is. Reid and I will be right here.” The tone of your voice made Kelly’s eyes narrow. It was the tone you had always used when you both were younger and you were telling Kelly to do her homework or to pick up her mess. Now it was also the voice you used when you were trying to calm down a victim while still trying to get them to do as you told them.

Still, she listened to you. If anyone had looked at her, holding onto her fiance’s arm and sipping champagne as she gave a running commentary of everyone’s outfits, they wouldn’t have thought anything was wrong. The fashion commentary was a good excuse to inspect everyone, so you put on your best snooty face and critiqued accessories with your sister. It was hard not to focus on Spencer. After seeing you act like this, would it change his opinion of you? Would he think that you were just some spoiled rich kid? You hoped not.

After a few minutes, your parents and Derek returned. “Your sisters are on their way back to the house now. Officers will be staying with them until we catch the unsub.” You nodded a thanks to Derek. “Mrs. Y/L/N, the security knew explicitly not to let her in, right?” They were well aware now, but it was important to rule out her points of entry from earlier in the night.

“Of course.” She said it like it was an insult to her to even think that security might have let her in.

“It’s not that hard to sneak in. All it takes is a decent wig, some colored contacts, and maybe a new makeup style. It probably wouldn’t fool the guests for long, but it would get you past security.” Kelly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t uncommon for teenagers to try to see how long they could stay inside without getting caught by someone they knew. All of your sisters had done it many times growing up.

“Everyone here knows about her, though,” your mother protested. You nodded in agreement. “If she did sneak in here using a wig, someone would recognize her within minutes. They’d tell me.”

“So it’s unlikely the unsub came in that way,” Derek concluded. “What about the back? Guests can wander the garden and there’s no security at the back door. If the unsub climbed the wall, she could get in through the back easily.”

“The wall is ten feet high. It would require athletic ability that the profile doesn’t suggest the unsub has to get over it. And even if she did, her hair would be covered in leaves or vines. Her dress might be ripped. It would ruin her appearance, so she couldn’t blend in.”

“Actually, Reid, you don’t have to climb the fence. There’s a gate along the southern wall. It’s hidden a bit by some bushes. Teenagers use it to sneak out of boring events here. The unsub would probably know about it. I remember seeing her around when we were younger.”

“You get that, Hotch?” The three of you heard your boss’s affirmative. They would go check the gate to see if it looked like anyone had used it that night. Until then, there was nothing your group could do except look for the unsub.

“You know, this isn’t what I imagined when I thought about meeting your family,” Reid said quietly to you. Not quietly enough, though. You could almost see her mom’s ears perk up, like she was a dog who had just heard the word treat.

“You’ve thought about meeting my family?” Reid’s face turned red as he realized what he had just said. The butterflies in your stomach made you almost forget about the serial killer on the loose, but you blamed that on all of the champagne you had earlier in the night.

“It seems to happen sooner or later with this team. I guess I just hoped I, the team really, would meet your family because you were giving them a tour of the office or something. I should know better, though. I didn’t meet Morgan’s family until he was arrested.”

“Wrongfully arrested,” Derek interjected, more for your family’s benefit than yours or Spencer’s.

“You know, Spencer, I’m throwing a wonderful fundraiser at an art gallery in the city next month. You should have Y/N bring you.” It was a testament to your mother’s persistence that she continued to worry about your love life even when your sister’s fiance was being targeted by a serial killer. Of course, she was also probably trying to pad the guest list.

“I’m not going to that,” you told her. “I already told you multiple times. Besides, we’ll probably have a case.”

“Hopefully not at the fundraiser,” your mother huffed. Her face brightened again. You didn’t like the sly look she shot at Spencer. A voice crackled in your ear. The gate was open. The unsub was probably here. The three of you perked up slightly, eyes focused on the crowd around you.

Of course, your mother didn’t know the news you had just received, so she continued. “Y/N, I saw Thomas when we were looking for your sisters. He looked quite glum. He asked me to tell you that he wanted to finish your conversation from earlier before you leave. You two were looking very cozy. It reminded me of old times.”

“That conversation is already finished. I don’t have an answer that he’d like.” You felt Spencer jerk slightly when he interpreted the meaning of your words. He had seen you two together. He knew from your body language during that conversation that you were comfortable with Tommy.

“I will never understand why you didn’t just move to New York with Tommy after college. You could be married with kids by now, you know. That boy was mad about you. Goody Williams says that he still is. I haven’t been able to get his mother to confirm it, but you should see her face any time you get mentioned. Oh, you two would have been such a successful match. Such a shame.”

“Quiet,” you hissed, not because of how tense Spencer had suddenly gotten, but because of the face you had finally spotten. “Unsub is wearing a black dress. She’s across the room, heading this way. Stay behind us.” You turned to look at your sister and her fiance. The profile suggested that the unsub would be focused on the fiance, but considering how much she had devolved, you had to be prepared for her to lash out at your sister.

You could see security moving in on her as she made her way across the large room. They weren’t being subtle about it, but she seemed too focused on the man behind you to notice them. You could see the rest of your team moving towards her too. Just a few more seconds and Hotch would reach her.

It was unclear whether the unsub realized she had been caught or whether she couldn’t wait any longer to strike. Suddenly, she was holding a gun. You could see Derek and Spencer both reacting beside you. Your hand immediately went to your waist, where your own gun would normally be sitting. Of course, you didn’t have it though. It wasn’t exactly black tie appropriate.

They wouldn’t have a clean shot. There were too many people between them and the unsub. But through some bad luck, the unsub had an almost clean shot of Kelly’s fiance. The only thing standing in her way was you.

Some part of you minds realized all of that in the fraction of a second it took for the unsub to shoot. Without thinking, you pushed Kelly’s fiance to the floor, waiting for the bullet to strike you instead of him.

But the bullet never got to you.

Instead, Spencer was on the floor in front of you. You dropped to your knees as Derek tackled the unsub before she could get off another shot. You barely even heard the screams around you as you ripped open Spencer’s shirt. 

A kevlar vest.

A sigh of relief escaped your mouth. The tension left your shoulders as you helped Spencer sit up.

“Thank god you’re wearing a vest,” you said. Spencer’s eyes met yours and your breath was taken away by the earnestness in them.

“I would have done it even if I wasn’t.” His voice was quiet. Serious. No one was meant to hear his words but you. In that moment, you didn’t care whether or not your mother was listening. You didn’t even know if she was still standing there or if she had already been led away.

“You would have jumped in front of a bullet even if you weren’t wearing a vest? Spence, do you know how stupid that is?”

“I’d do anything for you.” The two of you just stared at each other. You had never heard Spencer sound that vulnerable. Your hands found his, squeezing tight. You had to make sure that this was real. This was real life. You hadn’t been shot and this wasn’t some cruel trick your brain was playing on you before it shut off.

A look of panic shot across Spencer’s face when he realized what he had said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I think it’s just the adrenaline from, you know, jumping in front of a bullet. I’ll go. You probably want to finish your conversation with Thomas.” He stood up quickly, and you followed. Neither one of you let go of the other’s hand.

Instead, you pulled him closer to you, your other hand grabbing his suit jacket, like you were trying to make sure he couldn’t run away. And maybe you were. You wouldn’t put it past Spencer to try to run away from this. To just ignore it. He would show up for work on Monday and act like he had never said anything.

But that wasn’t what you wanted. And you didn’t think it was really what he wanted either.

“Do you want to get dinner sometime?” The shocked look on Spencer’s face made you laugh. 

“Like a date?”

You nodded, smiling widely at him. “Like a date.” Spencer’s grin melted your heart. He nodded eagerly before wrapping you in his arms.

“I still think she should have married Thomas when she had the chance. I guess a genius will do, though. At least he’s handsome,” you could hear your mother saying. Of course her voice managed to make itself heard among all of the other conversation ringing through the room. But you didn’t really care at that moment. All that mattered was Spencer.

[sweetsubharry]

hey ! sorry to bother you but could you reccomend me some fics of footballer louis?? thank you !! love your acc

Hiya!!  💖you can never bother me!! ^-^ ohmgosh I’m so glad you like my blog! I love footballer louis djskasdhjag tysm(sorry it took soooo long!)

please make sure you read the tags and stay safe everyone!💖

Also these are not in any particular order, however I will say the first two are probably my favourites ;) I have to read them again right after this!

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by rosesau

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Definition of Beauty by zanni_scaramouche

“Your book is upside down.” Harry nods at Louis’ book, his history text now that he sees it too.

“I’d rather study you.”

They both blink, startled by the slip.

“With you. Study with you,” Louis rushes to say. “Liam says I’m shite at history, can you help?”

Louis’ caught off guard by an omega he nearly takes out with an errant footie ball. It’s not that Louis’ never seen Harry before, it’s that he can’t stop looking, and he’s desperate to figure him out.

Coffee Cups and Football Boots by kimtaedumb

Harry’s stood behind the counter again, but this time he’s painting his nails. Louis strolls up to the counter and, thanks to his no brain-to-mouth filter, blurts out, “Isn’t that a little girlish, Haz?” leaning closer to inspect.

Harry lets out a little huff as his hand slips, “Oh, damn, now I’ve messed it up,” he pouts and turns to Louis, “Why should making myself feel pretty be girly?”

Louis holds up his hands in surrender, “’M not judging, jus’ curious is all.”

(The entirely cheesy and cliché Christmas AU, in which Harry doesn’t give a damn what people think about him – mostly – and Louis may be a little bit in love.

Alternatively, the one in which Harry owns a café that’s barely scraping by and Louis is a footballer and he takes Harry away for Christmas.

Featuring Zayn as a cocky little shit that most definitely needs to be put back in his place, Niall as the loveable Irish dude who drinks too much and flirts with Zayn more than the average girl, and Liam who loves everyone but hates them all at the same time.)

Way in the World by flowsque

When Louis Tomlinson enters the waiting room, Harry can distinctly feel his heart sinking to his stomach. The man's hair is ruffled and dishevelled and his red jersey, damp with sweat from training, clings to his perfect and chiseled body. He stands there, almost unreal, against the glass door, peering inside the office. Harry knew this would’ve happened, sooner or later. That he would have bumped into him. They play for the same club after all, even if they’re in different leagues. It’s not weird. It is not. Except it totally is. - Or, the one where Harry has a knee injury and an embarrassing crush on Manchester United's pretty number ten.

I Long For You by AnotherAnonymousWriter

Thirty minutes later, he's sat on a bench in Hyde Park with a book in his lap and a travel mug with hot tea in his hand. Not far from where he's sat, a group of boys are playing football and a bunch of children are chasing each other. Life is good.

Or at least, life is good until he hears a familiar “LOOK OUT!” and sees a football flying in the direction of his face.

And then everything is black.

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

ease the quiet and talk me down by cabinbythesea

Harry's a model and Louis' a footie player.

(Louis teaches Harry some football and Harry is insanely good at giving a lapdance).

Baby, It's You by Bearandleonardwrite

"Oh, yeah. Um..” Harry lets his hands fall to his sides. His brows furrow, face full of concern, and he asks, “You’re not, like, stalking me, are you?”

Louis can’t help the loud cackle that escapes his lips and immediately slaps one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, Harry, no!” Louis tells him, a little breathlessly, giggles still bubbling out of his chest. “Lottie’s one of the makeup artists here today and she somehow got me to agree to come. I had no idea you modeled for, uh.. this brand until I saw you walk.”

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, eyebrows still pinched. He lets what Louis just said sink in before a bright grin takes over his face and he goes back to doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’m glad you could make it.

(Basically, Louis' a footie player for Man U and Harry's a YSL model. They meet at a masquerade.)

Touch by kotabear24

Harry's shy and virginal with a past, new on the football team; Louis' the (experienced) popular star of the team and Harry's new mentor.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

see the truth (it's me for you) by orphan_account

If you asked Louis the first day of his French Literature class what he’d be doing on the last, he’d probably never have guessed it would involve helping a poorly Harry Styles study for the final exam. Good thing he’s not a betting man.

(Or the one where Louis and Harry spend an entire semester ignoring each other after a one-night stand, only to come face to face when Harry manages to catch the stomach flu during finals week. Sometimes fate is funny like that.)

Use Your Words by zedi

based off this prompt: collage au where jock!harry always serenades flowercrown!louis with love songs in their music class. what nobody knows is that harry actually kinda means the words he sings.

But instead it's Louis as the jock and Harry as the flowerchild because I do what I want.

Stop The World (I Wanna Get Off With You) by ilikepianos

"You like this, don't you?", he asks breathlessly.

What? Sucking cock? Being dominated? Yes, all of that. A big fat yes.

Harry nods, lips still wrapped around Louis' throbbing dick.

Louis' lips curl into a smirk. "Keep going then. You're doing amazing, love."

OR: The uni-football AU where Harry may or may not have a minor crush on the captain of the team and suddenly discovers that the feeling is very much mutual.

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

I just think about my baby; I'm so full of love I could barely eat by mercutionotromeo

Harry and Louis are six hundred miles apart, but they have the same solutions to the same problem.

Or: a masturbation drabble featuring pillow humping, locker rooms, and copious amounts of dirty talk.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

note: it says it in the tag but this is the edited version written in 2019, rather than the 2017 original- so there’s two put I put the link for the newest one :)

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

I made a map of your stars by brightbluelou

Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Kiss Me on the Mouth and Set Me Free by ls2k14   

Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.

[fleur-de-violette]

A good butler

A3O

A good butler is often polyvalent, as the job includes many various tasks. A good butler must know how to take care of everyday household tasks, as well as when help is needed to fulfill them. A good butler must know how and where to hire said help and have excellent leadership capability in order to direct the other aids, even in stressful situations. A good butler must have great organizational skills and make sure everything from the house master schedule to the planning of a social event is running smoothly. On top of that, a good butler is sociable and outgoing. A good butler is able to greet guests with a smile and perfect etiquette.

A good butler is also, apparently, supposed to know what to do about crying children.

Or: several times Alfred dried Bruce’s tears over the years.

Whumptober 2020 day 11: crying Note:In case you didn’t guess, this one gets angsty! This is less fluff and angst than fluff and angst and then some fluff and then some more angst. Warning for major character death, and discussion about mourning. Hope you’ll enjoy the story!

-

It’s the beginning of his service, and Alfred wonders if he can be a good butler.

A good butler is often polyvalent, as the job includes many various tasks. A good butler must know how to take care of everyday household tasks, as well as when help is needed to fulfill them. A good butler must know how and where to hire said help and have excellent leadership capability in order to direct the other aids, even in stressful situations. A good butler must have great organizational skills and make sure everything from the house master schedule to the planning of a social event is running smoothly. On top of that, a good butler is sociable and outgoing. A good butler is able to greet guests with a smile and perfect etiquette.

A good butler is also, apparently, supposed to know what to do about crying babies. Because the childminder isn’t there at the moment and mistress Martha Wayne asked him to watch Bruce for just five minutes. Of course, that is when one of the branches outside chooses to move, tapping lightly on the window and frightening the child. The infant, really.

So, Bruce is crying. And Alfred should do something about it. He tries to smile, to reassure him, but nothing seems to work. Finally, he decides to resort to drastic methods.

He puts his hands in front of his face and prepares for what he had planned to do. Finally, he removes his hands, making a funny noise and twisting his expression.

Bruce blinks. Lets out a surprised coo. Alfred does it again, and the kid smiles. He does it one more time.

Bruce is laughing when Martha comes back.

Alfred doesn’t know if he’s a good butler. But he knows he’s not alone.

-

It’s a few years later, on a sunny day, and Alfred is alone inside the manor as everyone else is outside. He’s interrupted in his preparation of the afternoon tea by a noise, followed by a harsh cry from the grounds. Leaving the kitchen, he hurries up to where, sure enough, his youngest master has gotten himself into yet more trouble.

Sure enough, Bruce is on the ground next to the swing that had recently been installed for him. He looks up when he sees Alfred, wailing loudly. The butler crouches down next to him.

“Could you tell me where you’re hurt?” he asks, and Bruce shows him a scratched hand. The boy then stands up to show his left knee where a bruise is already forming.

Alfred sighs in relief; looks like his young master is more shaken than hurt by the incident.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get that cleaned up.”

He extends his hand and Bruce takes it without hesitation. It’s weird, the absolute trust Bruce has in him. Not weird about Bruce, because he’s a child, but weird because Alfred has worked around liars and traitors for so long, he doesn’t really remember what trust feels like. He’s not sure of his place in Wayne Manor just yet.

He puts a Band-aid on Bruce’s hand and checks his knee, confirming it’s nothing worse than a bruise. He then washes the child’s face with a cold cloth, removing the tears.

“Now,” he asks. “Would you like some hot chocolate and cookies to recover from this fright?

Bruce smiles, and Alfred goes to wash his hands.

-

It’s a year and a half later, and Alfred’s hands are full of blood and dirt as he is burying a bird in the garden. Bruce had found the animal two days ago, probably injured by a stray cat. Despite their best effort, the bird hadn’t made it.

“I won’t cry,” says the kid next to him.

“Oh?” he says. “Why is that?”

“Tayler Cobb said boys shouldn’t cry.”

Alfred feels his heart tightening in anger and sorrow. Tayler Cobb is one of Bruce’s classmates, and he wonders absently who put such an idea in the young lad’s mind. He wonders why such belief is still taught to children.

One thing he’s sure of: the child in his charge won’t have it.

He squats down. “You can cry if you want to. Crying helps release emotions. This is not something shameful, or unmanly.”

“Do you cry?” Bruce asks.

“Sometimes,” Alfred answers honestly. “When I’m hurt, or sad, or feel any strong emotion.”

“Can I cry for the bird?” Bruce says, his eyes already filling with tears.

“Oh, my boyn” Alfred puts a hand on his shoulder. “You can cry.”

And Bruce cries.

-

It’s six months later, and Bruce doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t cry, no matter how much Gotham High society and journalists expect him to. No matter how many people gather around him, looking for a sob story.

Alfred pushes them away to the best of his ability. He doesn’t cry either, not until he’s in the quiet of his own quarters. There, he can cry. He can cry for Thomas and Martha, his employers who he wouldn’t call friends but sometimes allowed himself to think of in that way. He can cry for Bruce, the young, so young boy who doesn’t. Who stays silent through the funeral and the months following the tragedy.

The boy who Alfred is scared will never talk again.

-

It’s almost a year later, and Bruce is loud. He’s loud and hurting and he wants to hurt. He wants to punch the walls, to say harsh words, to hurt his teachers and classmates, to hurt Alfred, to hurt himself.

And Alfred doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know what to do about this child who is hurtful and hurting.

So he tries. He tries to talk to him. Tries to calm him down. Tries to absorb his hate and sorrow.

Bruce resists, until eventually, he grows tired.

Until he caves in, buries his head in Alfred’s shoulder, in the only thing he has left in the world beside pain, and cries.

Alfred lets him. He knows it won’t solve things, but at least some of his pain is leaking out of his eyes, lost in the butler’s tuxedo.

Just when Alfred thinks the boy finally fell asleep, Bruce murmurs, “It will never happen again.”

The caped crusader won’t cross Gotham’s night until years later, but this is the day Batman is born.

Born from the tears of an orphaned child and a promise.

It will never happen again.

-

It’s fifteen years later, and it has happened again. Alfred had prepared a meal for when Bruce came back from the circus, ready to hear some of the details of the show and maybe a new project he has to improve his nightly activities.

Instead, he opens his arms for a trembling man. A boy, really, who never ceased to be Alfred’s boy, not since that fateful night. He knows Bruce had been exceptionally good at handling things back at the circus.

He also knows the pressure has to be let go of at some point. And Alfred intends to be there for his housemaster.

For his son.

So, he sits Bruce on the bed after an embrace. Brings him food and water. Lets him stay silent all he wants. Washes his tears with one hand when they eventually fall.

But when he looks up into Bruce’s eyes, he does not see sorrow or despair. He doesn’t even see the anger that will cloud them in the next few months, when they will battle social services.

He sees nothing but utter determination.

“I’m not leaving him alone,” Bruce says. “I can help him.”

-

It’s several months later, and Bruce is lost. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses to Alfred in the early hours of the morning. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t help him.”

“My boy,” Alfred says, sitting next to him as Gotham gray down gives them light from the window. “Having a child is hard, especially a child who’s been through so much.”

Bruce opens his mouth to argue but closes it almost immediately. Dick isn’t his child, in the same way Bruce isn’t Alfred’s. But it doesn’t matter right now.

Alfred puts a hand on his back. “I think,” he says. “You know what to do.”

Bruce sighs. He knows what to do. Neither of them likes it.

And Robin is born.

-

It’s more than ten years later, and Robin is dead.

Bruce is silent again. There are no tears for Alfred to dry, every attempt of comfort rejected.

He watches, powerless, as the man he raised throws himself toward death. He watches as he cuts away his other son and friends. He watches as he tries to cut away Alfred. Alfred won’t go away, he’s like a bad weed, there’s no getting rid of him.

But that doesn’t mean he knows what to do.

No child should lose their parent. But no parent should lose their child.

-

It’s several agitated years later, and no child should lose their parent. Let alone twice.

But Alfred isn’t sure how much comfort he has left to give to the new Batman and Robin. He wants to be with Dick and Damian. Wants to help them the same way he helped Bruce, all these years ago. He’s just not sure he can when he, too, feels like he’s dying.

Because no parent should lose their kid.

And every day he wakes up is a day he won’t see Bruce. Every day he wakes up is a day he won’t take his son’s hand in comfort. Every day he wakes up is a day he won’t hear his voice.

-

It’s another five years later and Alfred can hear Bruce talking on the phone in the living room as he enters.

The man seems a little dazed as he puts down the phone and Alfred immediately goes alert.

“What is it?” he asks, getting a chair for Bruce to sit on.

“Nothing bad,” Bruce reassures him, but he still seems a little lost. “Nothing bad at all.”

He takes a deep breath. Smiles. “I was just on the phone with Dick. Koriand’r is pregnant.”

A tear that isn’t born out of sorrow but of the joy of an unexpected new falls from his eye. Alfred wipes it anyway.

“I’m… we’re gonna be…”

He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for Alfred to understand. Tonight, Alfred will open the most precious scotch of the manor, and he will share a drink with Bruce.

To celebrate the fact that the manor is about to become a lot livelier.

-

It’s some long, happy, and less happy years later, and the manor is quiet.

Alfred stopped his duties as a butler years ago, just before Bruce stopped his as Batman. There is a legacy, because of course there is, and Alfred didn’t feel like leaving the manor.

Like leaving his home.

So, it’s in his room, surrounded by his family, that he’s ready to go to sleep for the last time.

Bruce is crying, holding his hand, but he’s not alone. He’s got someone else now, a lot of them, to dry his tears.

Alfred smiles.

Closes his eyes.

He still doesn’t know if he’s been a good butler, but he’s sure of one thing. One more important thing.

He’s been a good father. -

Endnote: The theme is crying for me crying while I wrote this. Hope you enjoyed the story, many thanks to JustJellyJackal for beta reading.

[wouldpollyapprove]

One More

Request: Prompt N.7 fluff with John Please and thank you

#7 from fluff with John from Peaky Blinders :) Thank you!

John Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: None

A/n: I’m slowly getting through all my requests and I can’t wait until they’re done. Requests for headcanons, preferences, and gif imagines are open. Requests for oneshots are still closed, but hopefully not for long.

Masterlist

The door slammed behind John while he shrugged his coat off and hung up his hat. He could hear his children running around, doing their best to destroy the house his wife spent all day cleaning. He stretched his arms and made his way into the parlor to see that is was not the center of destruction. The kids were probably in their rooms, doing everything but knocking over the furniture. As much as he wanted to do something about their behavior, he knew it was worse before he married Y/n. 

They used to climb on everything, throw things, and create a war zone. There was a point in time when there were no plates or cups in the house because the kids had smashed it all. And that event was what lead John to seek out a new wife. No one could replace Martha, but no one was ever replaceable. John wasn’t looking to replace her at all. He wasn’t looking for a new her or a new mother for his children. He was looking for a partner. Someone to help him around the house, help him with the kids. Someone he could love and that could love him back. What he was looking for was someone to come home to.

Before he could sit down and rest his feet for a second, two children came running into the room, shaking the house. John wiped his head around as Marie ran into his legs, he stumbled back, using the mantle to steady himself. 

“Daddy, your home,” she sang, her arms wrapped tight around him.

He patted her head before detaching her from his leg and picking her up. “And what have you been up to?”

“She’s been crying all day,” Mark rolled his eyes, tired of waiting to be acknowledged. For a seven-year-old, he was sure sass and no one was quite sure where he got it from. 

John nodded, frowning. “What happened sweetheart?”

“I fell,” she loudly announced, earning a chuckle from her father. “Put me down, put me down.” Marie kicked her feet as the poor family cat waltzed into the room. The cat quickly scurried away once the girl was once again on the ground. Marie was quick to chase after the poor creature, her brother right behind her.

John let out a laugh as he watched his children dart through the house. Once again left to his own devices, he began to wonder where Y/n was. On any normal day, she was usually in the kitchen or watching the kids in the living room. The kids would always be too wrapped up in what they were doing to notice his arrival, so she was usually the first one to greet him. Today obviously wasn’t one of those days.

He swatted his thoughts away and took a seat in the chair he had intended to in the first place. A sigh escaped his lips, his body sinking into the soft cushions. John rested his head against the back of the chair and let his eyes close, the stress from the day slowly leaving his body. With the events of the day getting to him, sleep was inevitable. That was until a pair of arms gently wrapped around his neck.

“You can sleep in our bed, you know,” Y/n whispered in his ear, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, tilting his head to see her. Squinting an eye open, he smiled up at her. “Where have you been?”

“Dealing with your children.”

He raised a brow, “They’re always my kids when they misbehave.”

Y/n hummed and walked around the chair to head to the kitchen. Before she could get far, John snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her to into his lap. “They are yours to begin with, so there. And dinner will be ready soon.”

“Is that your way of getting me to release you?” He asked, before pulling her closer. “What’s for dinner anyway?”

Leaning her head against his shoulder, she rolled her eyes. “There won’t be dinner if you keep me here,” she pouted, playing with the buttons on his shirt. “I made your favorite for dinner, so I’d release me if I were you.”

“Why?”

Y/n raised a brow, “What do you mean ‘why’? Would you rather have something else?”

“No, no, I’m very happy with what you’ve made. You are being extra sweet today, it’s a little alarming.”

She rolled her eyes and removed his arms from her waist before sliding off his lap. John called from her to come back and that he didn’t mean anything by it as she walked to the kitchen. At the stove, she lifted the lid of a pot that she’d let simmer for a while and grabbed a spoon. While she was stirring it, John came up behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Would you rather I was mean?”

“No, I just want to know what’s going on,” John admitted. “You’ve been all over the place lately and I don’t know if it’s because of something I’ve done or something the kids have done…”

Y/n sighed, setting the spoon against the side of the pot, and turned to face her husband. “It’s not you, John, or the kids.” She twisted her fingers between her hands, trying to decide what words to say. “The kids and I went and visited Polly the other day. You were at the Garrison, I think, but that doesn’t matter. I haven’t felt the best lately or acted the best either and Polly thought, though I don’t know how true it is, not yet anyway-” she rambled before John interrupted her.

“Hey, Y/n, love, take a deep breath,” he commanded, pulling her against his chest. “What did Polly say?”

Voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt, Y/n said, “She thinks I’m pregnant.”

John was silent for a moment, one hand rubbing Y/n’s back, a huge smile on his face. The two had never really discussed having children. John had four kids as it was and did they really want to add to that? But, even though he never said anything, he wanted more kids and he wanted them with Y/n. She was a wonderful mother to his kids, treating them like her own, and she was one of the best things to ever happen to him. The war had done a number on him and, though, it hadn’t hit him as hard as Tommy, he thought that he would never see the world in color again. Not after all the death he had witnessed. But then Y/n walked into his life and everything became brighter. 

“That’s amazing, love,” he pulled away and planted a kiss on her lips. 

A small smile crept on her lips. “You think we can handle another one?”

John nodded right as all four of the kids came barging into the room, trying to find where the cat went. “I believe we can. The cat, I’m not so sure about.”

That earned a laugh from Y/n as the two watched the kids look under the table as the cat ran down the hall.

*~~*~~*

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.

@amirahiddleston

[askmcs]

RFA + Saeran playing Animal Crossing Headcanons

Jumin

“What is this strange game? I don’t understand the appeal”

“Look, honey! That cat villager looks just like Elizabeth”

“…”

He becomes addicted in a couple of days

His sole interest in the game is having just cat villagers and making everyone else leave

Yeah, he’s that person

“Jumin, love, it’s 2 am, can you please come to bed?”

“Not now, Monica! Rosie wants to move away! I need to convince her to stay, by all means!”

Also complains a lot about Tom Nook

“He’s not supposed to anticipate all costs. His business is faulty and reckless! How can he be so rich?!”

He’s probably gonna pay Nintendo to introduce new cat villagers, including a villager that resembles Monica and one that is identical to Elizabeth 3rd

Doesn’t really care about other stuff, but manages to be rich even there, he’s really methodic

Zen

“Zen! You should totally check this game out!”

“Well, I’m not really into games but if that makes you happy I’ll try it, babe”

He would have never played if it wasn’t for Miriam and Yoosung

But once he starts, he can’t stop

Became BFF with Sable as soon as the Able sister’s shop was unlocked

He is a frequent visitor

His only interest is to have the best style out of all, and decorate his house the best way he can

Always broke

Like, he can’t fish or catch bugs, he’s really bad at it

So he asks friends to lend him bells

“Zen, I love you, but I won’t give you 1’200’000 bells for a crown!”

“Come on, babe. It looks so good with my outfit!”

Other than that, he also likes to use emotions as much as he can

And goes around his fans’ islands to hang out and make them happy

He is not the type to dislike “ugly” villagers, but he kinda prefer good looking ones

Like “Whitney is so cute and beautiful!! I want her!!”

AND DENIES EVERY SINGLE CAT!!

Seven

“Hey Martha! Guess who’s already cracked the game?”

“PLEASE LET ME HAVE JULIAN THE UNICORN AS A VILLAGER!!”

Of course he hacked the game from the very beginning

Rumors says he’s the one responsible for the tarantula’s glitch in New Horizons

His island usually has rare fish and bugs

And rarely normal ones

Sea bass is a long forgotten nightmare on “Space station Island”

He has unlimited bells 

And he created an accurate and beautiful Elly villager that Jumin would kill to have

He pranks Yoosung on daily basis

His villagers doesn’t really like him because he pranks them too

But at the end of the day, they never move out

They can’t muahahahahah

He always helps Martha when she needs something for her island, and hang out a lot

They make a formidable duo

He gets the more fun out of everyone else in the RFA

Saeran

“Sae, I think this game is really therapeutic, you should try it”

“I see, Angel, maybe I’ll give it a try”

Hacks the game too

But he just makes the game nicer and more relaxing

Fishing is easier, and you know the fish beforehand

He adds Ice cream

…and that’s pretty much it, since the game itself is pretty chill

Loves to water flowers and make nice patterns and decorations

Loves to add usually unappreciated villagers or creepy ones

His favorite is Coco

Not a real fan of design. His house is pretty normal 

He only uses gifts, never buys anything for himself

So he’s loaded

And buys gifts for others

“What, Zen, you want a crown? Sorry, I just bought one for Coco”

If some visitor tries to do something bad to one of his villager

…or messes up his flower pattern

well…

he better watch out his save files

Anyway he really likes the game, especially when he plays with Margo

Yoosung

“OMG MINDY DID YOU REALLY GIFT ME ANIMAL CROSSING?!”

He can’t afford it, to be honest

So Mindy buys it for him 

They play together

Yoosung is a pretty normal player

Goes fishing, catches bugs, sells stuff, tries to pay the mortgage 

He’s always nice to his villagers 

And gets pretty sad when they are mean to him

“Why do you hate me Eloise?! T.T”

“Aww, cutiepie, no one could ever hate you!”

“She gave me a trash can and said “This reminded me of you” T.T”

“…”

Eloise mysteriously disappeared the day after

His life in animal crossing would be pretty normal if it wasn’t for Seven’s pranks

“AHHHHH TARANTULAS EVERYWHERE!!!”

“WHY CAN’T I CATCH BUTTERFLIES?!”

“Sea bass? BUT IT WAS A SMALL SHADOW!!!”

He’s a fan of events

And also likes to have outfits similar to LOLOL ones

He really likes the game, all things considered

Jaehee

“Why should I play this game?”

“Come on, Baehee, It’s really stress relieving”

She doesn’t play much

Like once or twice a week for like half an hour, to relax a little

She likes the museum

Dislikes Tom Nook at heart

She just does normal activities like watering flowers, fishing etcetera.

Has a Zen themed island

Other than that, not really into decorations

She takes what she gets

Not picky at all, accepts any villager

But has a soft spot for Caroline, since she was one of the first villagers she had

If The Roost was still present she would have loved it and Brewster

Too bad

To be fair, she doesn’t understand the hype, but has a nice time with it so whatever

[moonlit-melodies]

A Day At The Fair (Original Story)

Written: June 23, 2020 / Posted: December 9, 2020

Warnings: None / Word Count: 2,515 words

Tia hadn’t been to the state fair in years. Not because her parents didn’t let her, but because she just wasn’t interested in going. It’s always seemed too loud, too noisy, too filled with children and germs. But the week before, her friends were begging her to join them for just one day.

Her mom smiled at her as she dropped her off on the side of the road, just outside of the fair. She could see her friends sitting and chatting next to the greenery hanging from the walls of the fair.

“Have fun, Fatia,” her mom said, kissing her forehead before she hopped out of the car. After waving goodbye to her mother, Tia walked over to where her friends sat, talking about their previous DnD campaign. Olivia looked up at her, smiled and waved.

“Tia!”

The others looked up and ran to hug Tia, as if they hadn’t just seen each other at school the day before.

“Do we all have money for tickets?” Valerie, the eldest of the group, asked, standing from where she was sitting. Lydia, Valerie’s nearly identical twin sister, had cash for the both of them. Tia tapped her purse, and Liv nodded.

Tia had first met Lydia and Valerie in fifth grade, when they and a few other kids were part of their school’s first all-girls Robotics team. Two years later, Olivia came to their school. The four of them bonded over their shared love of musicals, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter. Now, they’re a nerdy group of friends who sing Newsies during lunch or recess, and Les Miserables during field trips.

The four of them all walked to the entrance, chattering about their homework assignments and games. They passed through security, Tia opening her purse to the guard anxiously before he waved her past to join her friends.

She grabbed a map from the booth as they walked past, and opened it. She always adored staring at maps, from game treasure maps to museum maps. It seemed that fair maps were no different. She was the one in her household with the best sense of direction. “One of the good things I got from Dad,” she used to say.

“Where do we want to go first?” Tia asked. Lydia peered at the map over her shoulder.

“We should go to the game alley,” Liv suggested.

“We should go to the rides,” Lydia said, much louder, her finger jabbing at a spot on the map. “The Tornado is five tickets per ride, and I have enough for ten tickets for myself.”

They all agreed to ride The Tornado first. Tia led the group through the fair, marching through crowds of children waving balloon swords and college-aged people wielding corn dogs and cotton candy. The smell of fried fair food, combined with the bright colors of food stands and bright lights was almost disorienting, making her feel slightly nauseated.

They each purchased five tickets each from a ticket booth, so that they each had just enough for cookies from Sweet Martha’s Cookie Jar, and headed for The Tornado.

The ride took them soaring through the sky like birds. Tia couldn’t remember the last time she felt so much joy from a fair ride. That morning, she had been running through all of the bad things that could happen at the fair, but she has not yet experienced anything negative here. If anything, she felt like there was nowhere more fun than this place, this ride, with her friends.

After the ride finished, Tia dusted off her skirt and took out the map, still somewhat dizzy from the ride. The four friends decided to walk through the game alley, which was less than a minute away, despite the fact that they knew all of the games were rigged.

“Woah, look at that Enderman doll.” Tia pointed at the game stall that had dozens of Minecraft Endermen hanging from the ceiling. The sign stated that five wins on the game were required for the doll, and Tia frowned. How disappointing. It would take a miracle to win those rigged games. She knew that. Her eyes moved onto the next stall, and her eyes bugged out even wider. “And that stuffed cat!”

Tia hadn’t thought that coming to the fair would renew her love for stuffed animals. When she’d lived at her dad’s house, she’d collected at least two dozen stuffed animals, from hand-sized cats to a head-sized Totoro. After she’d left to live with her mom at age twelve, she’d left almost all of them there, and her collection was reduced to a single stuffed cheetah. Back then, she’d come to terms with the fact that she’d never get to rebuild that collection. But now that she was here, she felt a strong need to hold a stuffed animal.

Valerie giggled at Tia’s oohs and aahs as they passed through the game alley. "You know those things are scams, right?"

"I do know! We talked about them in math class two weeks ago," Tia said, pouting, but she felt just the tiniest bit blushy as Valerie poked at her.

Tia was the youngest--and shortest--of the group, and was considered the baby of the group. In all honesty, she didn't mind being babied. She was usually the one in charge, what with being the captain of the Robotics team, so being babies by her friends gave her a break from being the oldest and in charge.

The group stopped to talk about what they wanted to do with the rest of their time at the fair. They discussed spending some time at the animal farms (Tia insisted on visiting the horses, despite being allergic to them), and later on getting cookies from Sweet Martha’s.

Tia could see a bit farther down the game alley that there was a booth decorated with hundreds of variously-sized stuffed dogs hanging by their tails, far enough that Tia could barely see the balloon dart board. A sign against the wall read in all capital letters, 'POP FIVE BALLOONS TO WIN! ONE WIN FOR A SMALL DOG! THREE FOR A MEDIUM DOG! FIVE FOR A LARGE DOG!' Tia felt as if the sign was yelling at her, taunting her, telling her that she won’t get a dog.

“Look at how  big that dog is,” Tia murmured.

“What if two of us pretended they were dating and tried to trick the employee into giving us one?” Lov said, poking Tia’s shoulder. 

Lydia laughed. “You could try the ‘Oh babe, I don’t have enough to do the game’ thing, and if that doesn’t work, bribe him with this twenty,” Lydia said, taking out a twenty from her wallet.

“We should try,” Liv said. “Even if it doesn’t work. It’d be fun. Who wants to be the girlfriends?” Liv asked. “Not me.”

“I think I can,” Tia suggested nervously, shifting her weight between her feet. “After all, I’m the one who wanted the dog in the first place.”

“Alright, makes sense. Lydia? Valerie? Who’s the other girlfriend?” Liv asked.

“I vote Val,” Lydia said, raising her hand. “She’s the better theater kid, anyway.”

“Why not? You’re a theater kid, too,” Olivia said with a frown.

“Yeah, but I’m tech. Lights and sound and set, not acting.”

“Alright. I could probably play a better lesbian, what with actually being a lesbian,” Valerie said, looping her arm through Tia’s, making her cheeks heat up just a bit.

“So how do we do this?” Tia asked, trying to imagine the scenario. “Do I ask Val to win me a stuffed dog, and then she tells me she doesn't have enough to win me the dog? And then we ask the employee to give us one, and if  needed, we bribe him with the twenty?”

“Exactly.” Valerie said. As she straightened her shirt, she laughed. “We do make a cute couple, though, don’t we?” she asked, looking down at their outfits. Valerie was dressed in dark, torn jeans and a black shirt beneath a red flannel--despite the hot weather--paired with black lace-up boots, while Tia wore a flowy, pastel-pink skirt, a frilly white blouse, and her fluffy hair was held back with a soft pink headband. They looked a bit like every stereotypical goth-girl/soft-pastel-princess instagram or tumblr lesbian couple. You know the ones. One half of the couple looks like they never completely got out of their My Chemical Romance based emo phase, while the other dresses in the colors of cotton candy and looks about as intimidating as a marshmallow. That was Valerie and Tia.

"Alright," Liv said. "We probably shouldn't meet up back here after. We’re too close, and it'll be too suspicious if you go back the way you came."

"Let's meet back at The Tornado, then," Tia suggested. The rest of the group agreed.

“C’mon, honey,” Valerie said, her hand sliding down to clasp Tia’s, taking her by surprise. She usually didn’t mind holding hands with her friends, including Lydia and Liv, but for some reason, this made her feel like butterflies were fluttering around in her stomach.

Valerie led her closer to the booth, and Tia followed behind, recollecting her thoughts. As they neared the stall, Tia grew nervous. She clung to Valerie’s arm tighter, and she didn’t know if it was for the act, or if it was out of fear. Tia was known in the friend group for the worst poker face--which is why she chose to be an IB Visual Arts student instead of an IB Theater student like Lydia and Valerie--but hopefully Valerie, best poker face and theater gay, would make up for everything Tia lacked.

The employee, a thirty-five or forty-five year old man blowing up balloons for the dart board, didn’t look like he would fall for their act. He turned in their direction, and Tia turned to Valerie, putting on her best puppy dog eyes.

“Babe, can you pretty please win me that doggy?” Tia asked, pointing at one of the bigger dogs hanging from the roof of the game stall. She almost laughed at herself, wondering if she was overdoing it. She could see Liv and Lydia snickering out of the corner of her eye, just out of sight from the vendor.

“Sweetness, you know I would, but I suck at these fair games and I only have twenty dollars on me, and we want fair snacks later," Valerie said, squeezing Tia's hand and putting the other on her shoulder, speaking loudly enough for the vendor to hear but not so loud that it was obvious.

"But ba-abe," Tia whined, shaking her head so that her fluffy hair flew up. "It's so cute! Look at his little face. His nose is so cute!" She gestured to the giant stuffed dog again.

Valerie smiled, and Tia could tell she was trying to contain her laughter. What happened to Poker Faced Val? "I'll see what I can do, sweetheart," Val said, and Tia couldn't help but blush. Hopefully that had helped with their performance.

Valerie let go of Tia's hand and stepped closer to the booth. Tia observed, twirling her hips innocently and clutching her purse as Valerie addressed the vendor, who had been watching them fondly.

"Sir, do you suppose I'd be able to have that dog for my girlfriend?" Tia heard Valerie say, and she couldn't help but smile at that last word. The vendor smiled, but shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but you'd have to win this dart game five times," the vendor said. "You could win three times for a medium, and once for a small one."

Valerie sighed, and Tia leaned forward to listen more. "Sir, I don't have enough money or skill to win the dart game five times. I haven't been able to get my girlfriend anything yet at the fair, and I really really want this for her."

Tia tried hard not to laugh. Valerie was doing so very well. She smiled softly to disguise her amusement with adoration for her 'girlfriend' Valerie.

"Tia, baby."

She focused her attention back to the situation. Valerie was beckoning her to come over, and she skipped over quickly. Immediately, she slid her hand into Valerie's, and smiled up innocently at the booth's vendor.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," the vendor said, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Sir," Valerie continued. "I do have twenty dollars on me. I'll buy the dog from you." She took the twenty dollars out of her pocket.

"Please sir?" Tia asked. The vender sighed and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, ladies, but I can't."

"How about for the medium-sized ones, sir?" Tia asked. The vendor shook his head again. "Small ones? Please?" Tia asked, staring into the eyes of one of the smaller dogs' eyes. It could fit in her hand.

"I'm sorry, ladies," he said.

"How much do you make, sir, as a vendor?" Valerie asked politely.

"I make eleven dollars per hour."

"You could have these twenty dollars, twice your hourly pay, in exchange for one tiny dog they won't even notice," Valerie said.

"I'm okay, thank you." His tone of voice had remained the same the whole time since they'd arrived. He was polite and calm, despite Valerie’s pushing.

"Sir, what is your name?" Valerie asked.

"Jared."

"Jared," Valerie said. "I have a proposal. I could give you this twenty dollar bill, and I could put in a good word for you, in exchange for a small dog."

"I can't do that, ladies," Jared the booth vendor said.

Tia sighed. This guy seemed awfully dedicated to his eleven-dollars-per-hour fair job, which was just over two dollars over minimum wage, and there seemed no point in trying more.

Valerie took a deep breath, and it seemed that, unlike Tia, she wasn't ready to give up just yet. "Sir, you, among many others, are underpaid in this capitalistic society." Jared chuckled. "These dogs are worth maybe--"

"Babe!" Tia said, tugging at Valerie's arm. "It's okay, I don't need the doggy." In addition to feeling as though nothing would break him, Tia was worried that maybe Jared had caught on, and she hated confrontation. She turned to the vendor. "Thank you for your time, sir."

She dragged Valerie away, bowing her head to appear sad and clinging onto her arm until they were definitely out of sight. The fake couple met up with Liv and Lydia by The Tornado, and they all started laughing.

"You two were quite a convincing couple," Liv remarked. "Shame he didn't give you a dog, though."

"Yeah. They were cute."

"You don’t have to hold hands anymore," Lydia pointed out.

Tia looked down and quickly removed her hand from Valerie’s. To be honest, she didn't even remember that she was holding her hand. She couldn't help but smile.

"Let's try again next year, yeah?" Valerie suggested, elbowing Tia gently. "Maybe then you'll have a better poker face. And we might be able to be a lot cuter."

“Alright, nerds, let’s go to Sweet Martha’s. I’m really craving some cookies,” Liv said. “Tia, lead the way!”

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy - the light switch

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

word count: 3696 + 358

warnings: mentions of suicide. this one is big and there’s a lot of chatting, sorry!

music: blink-182 - shut up

“Best songs about escaping the law. Go!”

Mal was a natural. Or seemed like one. He took up the maintenance guy, Flip, who volunteered to help them decorate the gathering hall for the party. It was almost the thirty-first, and, thanks to hard work and Mal’s disgust for sleep, they were done with the playlist. Not that it was very difficult. Caroline had said, nostalgia flick. Well, they knew exactly what people would feel nostalgic to. And even if they didn’t, who cares. They had the filthiest of Bloodhound Gang and a sick lamp that changed flickering from orange to blue.

Currently he was guiding Flip through Styx’s discography, explaining why it was literally the best rock band of the middle of seventies. Every little thing Mal enjoyed was literally the best for him. He had a mind of a twelve year old teenager, and a scary look of a snake. Ever since Y/N learned why he’s the way he was, she saw everything he did in a much more ominous way. Yet, he seemed friendly enough, turning his back to her, which meant he trusted her. Just in case she has to take him out. After the gaping hole grew in her over the winter and spring, she felt there wasn’t a single thing she wasn’t capable of.

Y/N was opening boxes with plastic cups and napkins, tons of waste five hours after the party. Caroline arrived exactly at noon, just like she’d promised, and started helping her.

“Is that him?” she asked quietly, eyeing Mal from the other side of the hall. Y/N stood up and nodded. The two girls were watching as he and Flip unfolded a big knot of wiring.

“He’s cute”.

“Uh-huh”.

“And you said he was… odd?”

Y/N nodded.

“I’m quite fine with that, though. I found the reason for it. I’m not sure he’s completely honest about everything, but earlier I thought he was like a demon, or a vampire undercover”.

Caroline looked at him closely, putting away her curly strands of hair to hear better.

“And what’s the reason?”

“Caroline, you’re lifting two boxed with the projectors. Put them down”, Y/N hissed, grabbing her by the hands. The blonde vampire formed an O with her mouth and grimaced awkwardly.

“Gee, I just wanna do it all as quick as possible. Sorry. You were saying?”

“Well, he has… some… he’s like…”

On the one hand, a bit of sociopathic energy won’t surprise anyone here. But then again, this stuff is personal.

She leaned to Caroline and whispered into her ear, really quietly.

“Oh! Has he killed anybody yet?”

“I thought the same!”

Her shriek made the boys turn their heads. Mal waved his hand at Forbes, and she nodded.

“About that, by the way…” Caroline followed him with her eyes, and then looked back at her friend.

“Those bodies at Stefan’s house”, Y/N always wondered at how all the people in the town are divided between the two Salvatore brothers. “Damon found their heads. You will not believe where they were”.

Y/N rubbed her palms. Please, don’t let it be too spooky.

“They were all packed under Damon’s bed. He couldn’t sniff them out right away because of all the smell on the lawn and inside... ”.

“What was it like, exactly?”

“They were just outside the house. Butchered”. Caroline shivered under her silk blouse.

“So, that was about Damon”.

“For sure”, Caroline shook her head lightly, letting her bangs swing. Y/N noticed a clear trace of indignation in her voice. “I wonder what he has done this time to piss Rebekah this time”.

“Rebekah? You already know she did it?”

The dead weight clutching her heart and lungs for three days let go. She thought it would be something way more evil, or threatening.

“I mean, who else has such a cracked up mind to do such a thing? And a grudge against Damon? She really outdid herself this time though”.

“Right, she’s bitchy, but not completely insane, for sure?”

Forbes just shrugged, her eyes big and blue.

“Don’t stop unpacking, Y/N. Yeah, and plus, that’s a lot of work”.

“This is atrocious. We gotta find out for sure”.

Y/N was unable to work, puzzled. A sudden burst of music, bashing with the sound of drums, exploded the silence in the hall, and she jumped, nearly screaming. Mal rushed to his laptop.

“My bad!” he waved his hand, smiling.

Caroline let out a tired sighed. So, Mal conquered her, too, without even talking to her.

“When did she do it? I can’t seem to make up the time line”.

“I’ve no idea. Maybe while Damon was napping”.

“Ridiculous”.

“Look, I don’t know. Klaus is talking to her, but she’s being all defensive… she denies everything”.

“Why are you so sure it was her though? I mean, they’ve slept a thousand years ago, and then I don’t remember them contacting afterwards”.

Caroline sat on the box and started to unpack the shuffling packs of packs of napkins. She lifted her sky-blue eyes to Y/N with the expression of sorrow.

“Y/N, honey… he… they’ve been in and out, for months. He just doesn’t tell you because he knows you’re still kind of into him”.

That made her wonder.

“Weird. I fell out of love with him years ago. You guys still think there’s something?”

Caroline shrugged impassively.

“I don’t know. It better be over. Damon is not the man of your dreams, I bet”.

“Well, he used to be”.

“Ladies”, Mal appeared out of thin air like a freaking ghost, startling her yet again. Even Caroline looked at him, surprised, her hands stopping for a second.

“We’re ready for the sound check. You wanna put in a song? Care, can I call you Care? Y/N’s been talking about you lots, I feel like I’ve known you for years”.

Caroline was dead silent, looking at him like she was about to hit him. Y/N felt an urge to put her arm on the guy’s shoulder and shield him from all the world and everything he didn’t get about it.

“You’re the boss here, right? Or is it Y/N? Um, anyway, she mentioned you wanted to see the transitions?”

Forbes stood up, still unimpressed, but put on a polite face.

“Oh. Sure. You’re Mal, right?”

She outstretched her hand in a challenging gesture. Mal shook it like it didn’t matter, and Caroline was seemingly left satisfied.

“Right. Mal Osbourne”.

“Mal’s short for…”

He tilted his head.

“Mal”.

“Oh. That’s the full name?”

“Yeah, it’s very short. Just like my patience”, he smiled widely, showing teeth. His eyes stayed the usual frozen navy color. “So, you wanna check it out? I’ll wrap the equipment until Friday and won’t get it out, so all the tech stuff should be checked beforehand. Y/N’s completely useless in it. The other day she failed to upgrade AdBlock, I was pissed”, he let out a laugh. Caroline gave Y/N a stunned look, not about her impotence in computers, which never surprised anyone who knew her. Y/N nodded, and the two of them walked to Mal’s laptop. He started explaining to Caroline the queue of songs and how they all formed patterns. This seemed to finally get to her, as she saw the organizational side to the whole mess that was happening. Y/N returned to her boxes.

When the lion share of preparations was done for the day, Mal suggested they grabbed a beer at the closest bar, to reward themselves.

“She’s a bit slow, eh, Caroline? I thought you said she was brilliant”.

“She is, and that’s mean. You just talk very much, and all my friends need to acclimatize to you at first”.

“Didn’t seem to have those problems with the others at Whitmore”, he thought out loud.

“Well, these ones are Mystic Falls people”, Y/N said. “Ric still avoids you, doesn’t he?”

“Big time”.

“They’re more cautious. You see the kind of shit happening with us”.

“Oh, right”.

They left the building, and headed for Y/N’s car. Mail never drove and usually walked from college to his place which was around ten minutes away. Sometimes Y/N gave him a lift on her way home as it was the same direction. The road from the campus to her house on the Oak street normally took not more than twenty minutes.

“Does that happen often? I read about all these ‘animal attacks’. What’s up with that? What kind of animal kills people and leaves them in the parking lot?”

“Wolves”.

“They’re that hungry?”

“In the cold season, yeah”, Y/N marveled at the amount of bullshit the normal folk had to consume here on a daily basis.

“And you’re all fine with that. And they’re gonna tell that pile of bodies was wolves as well? Is that true that they didn’t have heads?”

“How did you even know about it?”

“Twitter”.

Y/N shook her head. They got into the car, and she started the engine. Mal never put on seatbelt, no matter how many times she’s asked him to. The car itself seemed to have given up because now it didn’t beep when Mal was inside.

“I don’t know what kind of animal does that”, she confessed. She still wasn’t sure Rebekah was to blame for that. But she wished it was her, very much.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Let me tell you a story”.

“Oh, story”, Mal gasped excitedly, turning his whole body to her. He loved stories.

“One morning I wake up and the body of my dad lies there on my carpet. His upper half was in my room, and his legs were in the corridor. His throat was cut and there was a big, black pool of blood under him, soaking into the wood. Awful. I couldn’t move for about five minutes. I was afraid he would get up and attack me. And I was asking myself, who would’ve done it, why they never hurt me, how come I didn’t hear anything, and why they positioned him that way”.

Mal listened with his pretty mouth slightly agape, eyes flickering. To him, it was a retelling of a movie, a piece of fiction he loved so much.

“You think there was something special about the way they left him?”

“It looked like when a cat drags you a dead rat”.

He smirked.

“You don’t seem too upset the whole thing”.

“My father was an awful man”.

“What about the whole family talk you gave me the other day?”

“First, I don’t know Martha’s folks. I only heard your side of story. Second, we never found out who killed my father. So I can’t tell how I feel about that human”.

“Human?” Mal caught her off guards. “Why did you say ‘human’?”

She imagined banging her head on the steering wheel. Because someone got inside her house in the night without being invited, and never bit him, that’s why. It was important while they were trying to figure out the murderer, that he was human. It was a habit.

“I… don’t know”, she offered, without trying too much. “Anyway, I have little to no feelings about that. The picture of his body, though, lying there, waiting for me to wake up and discover him, still haunts me sometimes”.

“Okay, imagine you found who did this. Imagine you met that human”.

Y/N didn’t like the way Mal said that word.

“Imagine you knew the motive”.

“Which would be..?”

“Well, what do you mean when you say he was awful?”

“Ah, okay. You think they killed him to rid me of him”.

“Something like that, maybe. Imagine you met him. What would you say?”

“I wouldn’t like to meet him. He’s clearly crazy”.

Mal chewed on his lower lip. They drove up to The Craze and left the car.

“You’re driving me home in the evening”, she announced, throwing Mal the keys. He managed to catch them at the last moment. “I need to drink”.

_____________________________________________________________

“Tell me”, Mal frowned with a hidden smile, “why do we always have to make everybody listen to your millennial pop rock playlist?”

“You love it”.

“I do”, he confirmed and made himself comfortable in his chair. “But I just wonder about the reason you’re so hooked up on it”.

“I don’t think about it much”.

There was the song he put in to the DJ, who actually approved it, probably due to Mal’s natural charm. Being wrapped in the music she chose herself, and organized in a way she enjoyed, made her feel comfortable in the times of distress. Maybe now was the time like this, because she physically needed it.

Shut the fuck up, she said,

I’m going fucking deaf

“Let it be the snippet of the party then”, Mal agreed. People at the bar were swinging their heads, sniffing the familiar lyrics they probably last heard ten years ago, or even more.

They said cheers and started getting wasted.

“You remember you promised me something?” Mal cooed conspiratorially, pierced her with a look, and made her forget all about Martha for a second. She swallowed hard.

“What?”

“A sad story in exchange for mine. Or was it a trick to make me talk?”

Y/N went silent, amazed at the fact he remembered.

“You forgot, right? So typical of you. You’re ultra irresponsible. Sometimes I feel like you’re the one without any conscience”.

“Ugh”.

He drank his beer and licked his lips.

“You’ve seen my tattoo on the forearm?”

“It’s big, hard not to see. I reckoned, Alex is dead?”

She nodded. She looked at Mal’s forearms with the grey sleeves of his hoodie rolled up.

“It’s been five years now. He was my childhood friend. He taught me everything my bastard of the father was meant to teach me. Riding a bike, watching movies, making jokes, LEGO assembling, crashing my knees as we were rollerblading”.

“Did you have a crush on him?”

“At one point, when I was ten, maybe. It wasn’t serious. He was always like a big brother to me”.

“What happened?”

She tasted her bitten lip with the tip of her tongue. It was salty and rough.

“When we grew up, he lost interest in me. We went different ways, I guess. I haven’t talked to him since I was sixteen. I mean, sometimes I messaged him, I tried to see him, but he moved on far away, and he wasn’t really interested. Like none of what we did when we were children mattered. Made me feel it didn’t count. What am I supposed to do with all the memories now? He was the only friend I had growing up, and when a person feels insecure, they touch their past and it makes them feel good. But when I remember the happiest days, Alex is in all of them. And at the same time, there was another Alex, who just forgot about me, like, people just… I mean, Mal, everybody had a childhood, right? We are not born adults”.

“My childhood sucked”.

“Yeah, I know. But it still existed”.

“Unfortunately”.

“He pretended I meant nothing to him. He had a new life, moved away from Washington, and – the funniest part – nothing had actually happened, there wasn’t a clear reason. That’s just how it happens sometimes. But then, couple of years after, his fiancée called and said he had hanged himself”.

Mal was thinking, playing with the bottle cap.

“And you still got his name tattooed”.

“He still taught me how to ride a bike. No matter what else he’s done, you can’t take it away now. You can’t erase my memory”.

Mal’s face went hard. That was his judging look. He didn’t say anything, but only sipped on his beer. The waitress brought his cheese fingers, and he attacked them like a hungry bear. Y/N marveled yet again at his teen-like appetite for bad stuff. It’s amazing he was lean, and his skin was so clear, given every time she saw him eat, it was complete trash.

“Alright, but I think I win”, he said after a pause.

“You mean the saddest story?”

“Yeah. Martha’s still alive, which means I get to be rejected for the second time”.

“You think she’ll reject you? It’s kinda sweet you’re being such a creep about her”.

“You’re a specific type of chick, Y/N. She’s more normal than you. She’ll think I’m a horrible person”.

“Do you think you’re a horrible person?”

He grinned to himself.

“I used to, but not anymore. I’m on my own in this world, and the only person that ever cared about me for real doesn’t know I’m feet away from her. There’s no use beating yourself about your qualities when you’re my age”.

“You’re like, a year older than me”.

Mal smiled at her like at a child that’s talking nonsense, but you gotta be nice because one day they’ll figure it out.

“You want some?” he always shared his food with her.

“No, thanks”.

“Oh, you know what else was bugging me?”

Y/N raised her brows.

“Something bugs you, sweet boy?”

Mal giggled charismatically.

“What are the Salvatores like? I saw one of them the other day, Steven? With Prof Saltzman. They seem to be good buddies, but he looks strange”.

“Stefan. Yeah, well, we all went to the same school. Ric, too. He used to be our history teacher”.

“So, you know them well? You keep mentioning the second one”.

“Go on”.

Mal pursed his lips, concentrating really hard.

“Go on, remember”.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. I don’t remember names. Be thankful I call you right”.

“Go on”, she nudged him, entertained. It was a thing about him, Mal, not considering others important enough to remember people’s names.

“Da- Dan?”

“Nope”.

Mal crossed his arms on his chest, his eyes wondering all over Y/N’s face like the answer was there.

“Daniel. Dasher. Denmark. Dunder Mifflin”.

She laughed.

“Go on. Mars’ moons”.

“Deimos. Damon!”

Y/N felt amused when he was around. She felt entertained, light, he was taking away the weight from her. The tilt of his head, the stupid quote from Gordon Flash, and she felt like she was a different kind of person. A memory would come back to her, that she wasn’t born here. That she didn’t belong to Mystic Falls and could actually go if she decided, one day. That, in theory, she was free.

Mal watched her.

“You like him?”

“How come?”

“Your face does that thing when you talk about him”.

“What thing?”

“Like now. Like you’re missing something”.

“I don’t get why everybody thinks I still have a crush on him. I used to love him back when I was at school”.

“Whoa, love?”

“Yes. It’s that thing when you want to be with somebody, you know that”, she pressed. She still was looking for an opportunity to test just how much Mal actually felt about Martha. That he cared about her, was not a question – but how did it actually work, with his brain? Did he desire to possess her? Or felt incomplete without her? Did she make him better, more human?

“And what happened to that?”

“I grew up”.

“And?”

“You’re pushing me”.

“I’m being curious”, Mal was chewing again, “how does it die? You say you loved him. I only really loved one person in my life – and that’s rich for me to say that. Given, you know”, he motioned with his hand, “But I really think I love her. Like, when I look at her, my eyes melt. You ever get that? And my heart goes ba-dum, and sometimes I forget and think, oh no, I’m finally having a stroke”.

Y/N couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“And when I think about her, sometimes it feels like I’m dying”, Mal said, and suddenly, it wasn’t as funny anymore.

“Oh, my poor boy Mal”, Y/N held out her hand and touched his wrist in an instinctive gesture.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“I’m comforting you”.

“Ah. Thanks. And so, I used to wait for it to go away, but it didn’t, so I decided, if I can’t get over her, I’ll just get her back. You know?”

“That actually makes perfect logical sense”.

“So, how do you fall out of love? If it’s real?”

“Maybe with Damon, it wasn’t real. But it sure felt that at some point. Boy, the things we did together back then”, Y/N snickered, raising Mal’s eyebrows high.

“What?”

“We…”

She realized she couldn’t tell Mal about one of the coolest things that ever happened to her in her life. The one person she really wanted to share, because she knew exactly the kind of reaction she would get, and it would be perfect. And yet, to tell him how she, a sixteen year old, was a bait for a bunch of vampires and how Damon ripped a heart out one of them in front of her? How he was standing there, all soaked in rain, with his black hair and silver eyes, tall and strong, like a statue, holding a bleeding heart in his palm, like an epitome of safety.

“We had the maddest parties. I was big on vodka when I was a teenager”, she lied. “We would gather all school at their huge house and party all night. And get into all kinds of trouble”.

“How old is he, exactly?” Mal asked, suspicious.

“He’s seven years older than Stefan”.

“So, you partied with that man while being underage. And you let him get into your pants?”

A wave of frozen air hit her in the face. Y/N was taken aback, at the same time feeling blood flush to her eyes and cheeks. Mal’s severity sometimes blew her off.

“I- no. Not that it’s any of your business, man, Jesus. He never liked me back”.

“Damien sounds like trash”, Mal concluded gravely, looking away. “No wonder someone’s threatening him. Is he a criminal?”

“Not that I know of. Mal, stop it”.

“What?” he shook his shoulders, as if brushing off all the thoughts of Damon.

“You’re freaking me out a little”.

“You’ve had one bottle, weakling”, he smiled warmly. It didn’t work. His eyes were worse than weapons sometimes.

“Moorning!” Mal announced loudly as he stopped the car, with a swing, on her driveway. Y/N had almost fallen asleep while looking at the window. When he turned off the music, silence rang in the car for a moment.

“You still walking?”

“How are you not drunk?” she demanded slowly, getting out of her car and pushing the door a little bit too hard.

His hand found its way to her shoulder blade. Mal seemed to move like a cat, and her being completely wasted didn’t add to her circumspection.

“I have high tolerance”, he responded. “You need a tea or whatever? Are you gonna puke?”

Y/N stood up and looked at her house. It swayed just a little.

“Nah, I’m fine”.

Together, they walked to the porch. Y/N decided to be double careful and thought of luring him inside for a minute without inviting him, just to be sure.

“Actually, would be cool if you helped me, uh, find the switch”.

Mal got slightly surprised but said nothing. Y/N opened the door, and he held it with his hand, as she stepped inside. She stood in the dark for a moment, looking at him, just outside the doorframe. The streetlights were out, again. The faint moonlight made his face look waxy. He studied her with curious look.

“You want me to come in?”

She wouldn’t budge.

Mal put his palm on the door jamb and took a step, letting himself in the house. Y/N exhaled, blood thumping inside her head, like an empty gunshot.

“There it is”, he outstretched his hand and flickered the lights, getting the switch unmistakably. How did he know? Y/N closed her eyes for two seconds and opened them again. Light was burning her eyeballs.

Mal stepped up to her, and took her head with his hands. He promptly kissed her on the forehead, his lips warm and quick.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll call a taxi”, he said nonchalantly, an amused smirk, like he was playing with her, stretched his mouth. He left the house without saying goodbye, and closed the door after himself.

How did he know where the switch was?

[braincoins]

Unusual Halloween Movies

Tired of Jason, Freddy, and Michael? Want something new this year? Boy, do I have some treats lined up for you! I’ve used JustWatch to list the streaming options (though these are US streaming options; I maaaaay be up for some streaming fun on Halloween...). I’ll tell you right now, this list can almost perfectly be broken into three categories: Horror-Comedy, Sci-Fi Horror, or International Horror.

American Mary -  A medical student drowning under tuition debt finds a lucrative practice when she enters the world of body modification. ngl, I remember liking this movie but it’s been a bit since I saw it, so for the CONTENT WARNINGS I’m going to straight up rip the MPAA here: Rated R for strong aberrant violent content including disturbing images, torture, a rape, sexual content, graphic nudity, language and brief drug use

Ava’s Possessions - Ever wonder what life is like once all your demons have been exorcised - literally? Now that Ava is free of the demon that once possessed her, she’s out of a job, down a few friends, and facing charges for the acts of violence her demon did. The only way to get out of trouble is to go to the demon-equivalent of AA. CONTENT WARNINGS: mostly blood and bad language; some mild sexual content 

Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon - A journalism grad student interviews a young man in training to be the next slasher killer, ala Jason/Freddy/Michael. An absolute treat of a movie for anyone who loves slasher films; it’s about 3/4 mockumentary, 1/4 actual horror film when she realizes that, no, really, he’s going to go kill all those co-eds. CONTENT WARNINGS: Blood, gore, naked boobs (”Ugh. Is that REALLY necessary?” “Now, Taylor, who’s telling this story?”), sex, occasional panty shots (because, again, slasher films). 

Bubba Ho-Tep - OH MAN another one I had to go back and add in ‘cause REALLY NOW. Elvis is in a nursing home (at least, he says he’s the real Elvis) and he and JFK (who is played by Ossie Davis - who you will note is NOT white) have to fight off a resurrected mummy who sucks the souls of the living out of their assholes. Bruce Campbell stars. HOW IS THAT NOT AWESOME ENOUGH FOR YOU?! CONTENT WARNING: Um... look, I think you kinda already know what sort of content to expect given what I just told you about the story.

Bulbbul (Netflix Original) -  (Hindi Language) During the 19th century Bengali Presidency, something - or someone? - is haunting the woods around a lord’s estate, killing men in gruesome ways. The lord has left his estate in charge of his young wife, while his younger brother, who’d been away studying in London, returns to hunt down whatever is causing these mysterious deaths. CONTENT WARNINGS: child bride, blood, and what Netflix calls “sexual violence”, meaning a rape scene so graphic (despite not showing any nudity or genitalia) that it is GUARANTEED to make you uncomfortable. The movie was written and directed by a woman, so there is nothing intended to be “sexy” about this at all. If you can make it through that scene, though, there is a definite payoff for it. (Or should I say “payback”?)

Eli (Netflix Original) - A young, incredibly sick boy with a fragile immune system is brought by his parents to a clinic for an experimental treatment that may be their last hope. But all is not as it seems within the walls of this place... perhaps literally. CONTENT WARNINGS: mostly just language, a few mild jump scares. People get set on fire at one point. No biggie. 

Errementari: the Blacksmith and the Devil (Netflix Original) - (Basque Language) Based on a Basque folk tale. Eight years after the First Carlist War, a government official comes to a small, impoverished Basque town asking after the blacksmith. Everyone tries to warn him away; the blacksmith is an evil, evil man. But he is on the trail of some Carlist gold that might be in the smithy, and the prospect of the gold wins him some helpers. And while everyone is distracted by that, a young orphan girl manages to get onto the blacksmith’s property. And what she finds there, no one could have expected... CONTENT WARNINGS: I took a screenshot of Netflix’s list of warnings just because it amuses me:

[sings “One of these things is not like the others...”]

Europa Report - Look, I really can’t recommend this enough for fans of found-footage features and people who can stand slower-paced, constantly-building terror. An international mission is sent to investigate Europa, one of the moons of Jupiter. (Those of you who are fans of real-world space exploration know that Europa is considered a prime target for extraterrestrial life within our solar system.) Contact was lost with the mission for a long time, until the data streams came flooding into Earth all at once. And what they showed... CONTENT WARNINGS: Like I said: slower pace than most horror/thriller movies. It builds slow and steady. There’s really not much in the way of blood and gore, though; an excellent example of terror without resorting to buckets of red corn syrup.

Event Horizon - Hellraiser in Space? Hellraiser in Space. Except the Lamentation Configuration is a fucking SPACE SHIP. Also, props for genre-savvy cast. CONTENT WARNINGS: EYE SCREAM. Blood, gore, and, no really, THE EYE THING. Did I mention the gore and the blood? Oh, and language. And blink-and-you-miss it nudity & sex.

Grabbers - Strange creatures are attacking a small Irish coastal town and the only way to protect yourself is... to be drunk? CONTENT WARNINGS: I mean, it’s Irish and everyone’s drunk, so bad language (by American standards) is a given. That’s... really about it, unless you have a tentacle phobia.

Green Room -  An up-and-coming punk band show up to play a gig and realize too late that they’re playing at a Neo-Nazi club. And when they happen to see something they... really shouldn’t have, it becomes an all-out fight for survival. Same director as Murder Party, though this movie was made later with a much better budget. CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence, blood, gore, and yes, some dogs die because they were trained to be vicious attack dogs by Neo-Nazis. :( Also, the most important content warning of all? PATRICK STEWART PLAYS A NEO-NAZI. (You think I’m joking, but for someone who grew up with him as Jean-Luc Picard, it is downright unsettling to see, okay?)

Life - Think Alien meets Europa Report (above). The six-member crew of the International Space Station are given a sample from Mars that might contain actual extraterrestrial life.  CONTENT WARNINGS: Blood. No, let me say that again: BLOOD. Sounds of bones breaking. Alien creature entering someone’s mouth and killing them from the inside (probably through a combination of choking them/asphyxiating them on their own blood/devouring their blood? It’s not clear, it’s just UNSETTLING).

Murder Party - This is what happens when snobby art school brats try to kill someone. (Read: it doesn’t go well.) Fuckin’ bop of a Halloween song over the end credits, too. Also, at least two characters are canonically bisexual. Same director as Green Room, though this movie was made first (with a much lower budget). CONTENT WARNINGS: bad language, blood, gore, nudity, mild sexual content (the nudity is supposed to be “artistic”). The dog probably DOES die, given the circumstances, but it doesn’t happen on screen, at least? And the dog gets some pretty decent comeuppance first... Also, 1000000% accurate cat representation. 

The Perfection (Netflix Original) - A former cello virtuoso (virtuosa?) gets in touch with her former teacher and meets his new star pupil. An instant connection is formed between the two women... or is it? (Yes, there are lesbians!) CONTENT WARNINGS: oh chaos, where do I start? Bugs under the skin, hacking off body parts, blood, gore, mild sexual content, sexual abuse, and the movie itself is complete and utter MINDFUCKERY. Did you like “Tales from the Crypt” as a kid? You’ll probably dig this. 

Ravenous - With apologies to all Native Americans, but at least they did get actual Native American actors for those parts (George is played by a Pueblo actor; his sister Martha is played by an actress of Menominee and Stockbridge-Munsee descent). A soldier who won a questionable victory during the Mexican-American war is given a hero’s status and then an exile to a remote fort in the Sierra Nevadas. Not long after he arrives, a would-be settler arrives with a harrowing tale, calling for help for what few survivors there are of his wagon train. The two friendly Native Americans at the fort issue warnings that go unheeded, of course. CONTENT WARNINGS: Blood, gore, cannibalism, PTSD.

Slither - James Gunn’s 2006 Feature Movie Directorial Debut! He wrote it, too. An homage to B-movie gore flicks like you’d see at the drive-in. I am just copying and pasting the IMDB summary ‘cause I love this movie too much to be concise about it: A small town is taken over by an alien plague, turning residents into zombies and all forms of mutant monsters. (Oh, but don’t forget the nasty, slithery blood worm things!) CONTENT WARNINGS: Nasty, slithery blood worm things. GORE, BLOOD, GORE, GORE. A very uncomfortable sex scene. Michael Rooker.

They’re Watching - An American TV crew filming what is essentially “House Hunters: Eastern Europe” stumble into superstitions, folklore, and... TERROR!! MWAHAHAHAHA. No, seriously, I LOVE how it’s basically “What if some HGTV crew wound up waaaaaaaay in over their heads, in a horrible and bloody way?” CONTENT WARNINGS: Blood, gore, and NO WI-FI.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: In the dark blue sky you keep Summary: Martha Wayne, the Bat of Gotham, wakes up in a world where here son never died. The difference is startling. AN: Based on an anon prompt in which Flashpoint Thomas and a Batman!Martha meet my happy imaginary canon verse.

Her son had green eyes.

Her son was dead.

Reflexively, Martha grabbed the imposter, clone, hallucination, Fear Toxin. Had someone finally figured out her identity? Was it Crane? No, he wasn’t smart enough on his own, maybe Two-Face had helped or Black Mask. He had been pretty annoyed she and that upstart with Joker’s old moniker had been decimating his empire-

“Grandmother! You’re hurting me!”

Bruce was struggling against her grip, cursing in Arabic under his breath, and Martha finally remembered. Shocked, she let go of Damian, who was quick to take a few steps back.

“Damian. I- I apologize.”

The teenager just sighed, feigning calmness, while still staring at her hand. He looked a lot like Talia wearing that expression. In her homeworld – dimension traveling was a concept Martha still wasn’t comfortable with – Talia had been a girl just as stubborn and proud as Damian. After her death, Martha had often wondered who she could have become, hadn’t the world wanted to get back at Ra’s al Ghul. It was strange to see a world where she had a son.

Where Martha’s son was a father himself.

“It’s fine,” Damian said. “I’ll tell the others to wake you with a broom or a ruler like we do with Baba. And breakfast is ready. Alfred said you can eat upstairs if you want to.”

She had eaten breakfast with everybody else for the past five days, even if it had been uncomfortable to sit next to Thomas again. This other world’s version of him was rough, broken. He didn’t resemble the sweet man Martha recalled. But she supposed she wasn’t much like his wife either. That Martha Wayne had fallen into despair and madness, thriving in the blood splatters of the Joker.

She hadn’t locked down her emotions like a Kane, taken off her wedding ring and traded it for a knife to become someone, something different.

This Bruce probably recognized neither of his parents in these killers wearing their faces.

“Do you have guests today?”

Damian shook his head. “No, just a full house. Everybody’s home again for the first time in weeks, so we’re all eating together. It’s become somewhat of a tradition. Baba wasn’t sure whether you or Grandfather would be up for that.”

Martha was the Bat.

Her life had never been a question of if she wanted to do something. She had to.

“Of course, I’m coming. I’d like to meet the rest of your siblings.”

“I’ll tell Alfred.”

Damian rushed out of her room – a guest room outside of the family wing of the manor – on silent feed. None of the people in Bruce’s family made a sound unless they wanted to. Martha hadn’t been able to stop herself from imagining what assets they must be on the battlefield.

Martha had never taken on a side-kick, or a hero in training, as the Justice League liked to call their junior members. Not that Martha was much of a hero or a vigilante with her poisons, syringes, knives and the League of Assassins on speed dial. She had worked together with the Justice League a few times when the whole world had been threatened by outside forces, but their methods didn’t agree with each other. She thought children were too young for Gotham, any city at all, and they hadn’t approved of the blood trail she left behind.

Martha got dressed. Alfred had rushed to a store after the first day so she could wear clothes that didn’t belong to her grandson’s ex-girlfriend. He had returned with a full batch of outfits, all similar in cut and style to what she used to wear.

Martha hadn’t had the heart to tell him she hadn’t worn a skirt in two decades.

After making sure she was presentable, she left to go to the dining room. Martha had gathered that they usually ate in the kitchen when only four members of the family were in the manor, but since her and Thomas’s arrival, they’d taken to eating in the dining room. With so many people attending – she’d heard a few names being dropped over the past days – they needed the space.

On her way across the manor, she encountered Thomas. He was finally clean-shaven and, wearing Bruce’s shirts, he appeared much younger than he had when they had first arrived.

They both mustered each other, but none of them really knew what to say.

“My room has a mural,” Thomas spoke up. “It’s a mix of spray painting and acrylics.”

Martha had seen a couple rooms decorated like that.

“I think that’s Damian and Duke’s work.”

“The meta?”

Her Thomas used to love giving speeches. He could talk for hours about what fascinated him without taking a break. When Bruce had been- He used to give Bruce biology lectures to fall asleep to.

This Thomas was talkative if he said more than ten words.

“Damian mentioned boding with Duke over art,” Martha continued. “Bruce allowed them free reign of the guest wing as long as they don’t make Alfred disapprove.”

“The manor’s messy enough by his standards already.”

Martha wouldn’t necessarily call the manor messy. It was just more lived-in than what the two of them were used to. There was a distinct lack of breakable vases, and many paintings had been taken down to be replaced by family portraits or paintings done by Damian.

The rugs on the ground weren’t as bright and clean as they used to, but Bruce had said that multiple of his children were friends with speedsters. She’d also found rations of non-perishable food hidden in different corners, an immeasurable amount of cats, a skateboard, toys, instruments, posters, stickers and everything else that belonged in a good home with happy children.

The closer the two got to the dining room, the louder did the voices become.

“And I’m standing there, baby vomit all over my uniform, still holding the kiddo and go ‘Sir, you just violated 34 laws and-‘”

“Timothy, I saw your schematic for a hoverboard, and I was wondering if you would-“

“-too much to ask for one mixed productions where a guy plays a female lead? If you don’t have enough men to cover all male roles, just mix it up completely, why can’t they-“

“Don’t even think of stealing my chocolate, I dare you.”

“-and the kid won’t stop crying. The guy is crying too. And I still had a date to go to.”

“I have multiple degrees and I’m ‘not qualified enough’. Just say you don’t want to hire a woman in a wheelchair and be done, but don’t waste my time.”

“-I’m a broke bitch these student loans can’t kill me-“

“You’re literally putting caviar on your eggs right now, Steph. I know Bruce gave you a credit card, what student loans-“

“Anyway, so I’m running an illegal betting pool at school-“

“Lively, aren’t they?”

Bruce was smiling, looking at his kids discussing heatedly at the table behind Thomas and Martha. Helena, who had been resting in his arms, was now wide awake and squirming. Bruce sat the toddler down and she rushed over to the rest of her siblings.

“The one picking Helena up is Jason, my second son and third eldest. You already met Duke and Damian and heard Tim when he checked the portals you arrived through for abnormalities. He’s the one falling asleep over his cereals. Steph is the blonde one talking to him, gesturing at her food. She was the one to lend you her clothes. The girl beside her is Cassandra, my first daughter and actually second eldest. You know Kate and Bette, I assume? Dick’s my oldest, and he’s the one reenacting the chokehold with the banana. The one who kept the water bottle from falling over next to him is Barbara.”

That had surprised Martha.

“The Commissioner’s daughter?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes. Jim pretends he doesn’t know and we give him space for plausible deniability. It makes holidays very interesting.”

The children kept talking, exchanging stories and snacks, and the tiny toddler in-between them. There was a warmth to their interaction Martha hadn’t felt in years.

“They are strong,” Thomas said.

“They are beautiful,” Martha added, though the term was a poor substitute for what she actually wanted to say.

They’re alive.

She hoped Bruce wouldn’t catch on, but his eyes were already narrowing in concern.

It was easy to forget she wasn’t the only Bat in Gotham anymore.

[demiromance]

“Thankful” (happy ending AU Reddiefic, Secret Santa gift!)

Hi there @pawprinterfanfic! I’m your secret santa for the @itfandompromptssecret santa gift exchange! I’m sorry its almost midnight, I was at a holiday event with my family, but I had such a wonderful time writing this for you and I hope you have an absolutely blessed holiday season! With all of my love and warm wishes, enjoy! Summary: The Thanksgiving after Pennywise finally goes to wherever evil killer clowns go, The Losers have a lot to be thankful for, Richie and Eddie most of all. (Happy ending AU where Stan went back to Derry, and because of that, they all lived.) Rating: T, because Richie has a mouth on him.

It snows on Thanksgiving in Derry. Richie Tozier forgot how much he hated that shit. He’s sulking around Mike’s (admittedly incredible and way more spacious than he’d realized at first,) apartment over the library, and he can feel two pairs of eyes on him - Eddie, from his now customary, since coming home, finally, from the hospital, place on the window seat by the round window that looked out over the town square, and Sprinkles, the cat that Richie was unsure if Beverly had actually adopted from the shelter in town for Mike, or had merely found on the street and claimed as theirs. Ben would be the first to tell you, she definitely had a way of taking in strays. 

“What exactly are you two doing to that poor thing?” Eddie calls, book long forgotten, and Sprinkles, who has made herself comfortable in his lap, makes a quiet little mrrrr noise of curiosity of her own. 

Still squinting at the cookbook open in front of him, one hand menacingly clutching an entire stick of butter that’s melting rapidly in the heat of his hands over the turkey, resting on a bed of potatoes and carrots in what he’s been told is called a ‘roasting pan.’ Richie is not, nor has he ever been a great cook, but he and Bill will be damned if they can’t figure out what Martha Stewart called the “idiot proof” turkey earlier that day on television while the others are rushing about doing the rest of the things required for the day to be perfect.  And the day would be perfect, damn it, if it was the last thing Richie did: they had so much to be thankful for. He felt the familiar flood of emotion in his chest when it hit him again, just how grateful he was. Pennywise was gone, for good, and Eddie’d lived. He thought he’d known fear before they went into that cistern, or when he saw those massive spider legs, or what he saw in the deadlights, but he had never known fear like the blur of minutes of carrying Eddie from that awful place, turned to the hours of sitting on the floor in a hospital hallway, Eddie’s blood darkening on the front of his shirt, turned to the days of waiting for him to wake up. He also thought he’d, at least at some point in his life, known happiness, and relief, but he hadn’t, until finally he was roused from sleep by the hand he’d held for so long, wishing and hoping and even praying, curling around his. 

That’d been July, it was the end of November now and everything between that was a blur. That first night, everyone slept on chairs in the hospital, but eventually bags were collected from the Townhouse and migrated to Mike’s. “No friends of mine are going to keep living in that shithole for god knows how long,” the librarian had harrumphed at them, making up his sole guest room (never used,) pulling out his couch, and sending Ben to buy air mattresses. If Richie was smuggled there, ‘home,’ to sleep in those early weeks, he doesn’t remember. He remembers being absolutely unwilling to let Eddie out of his sight, lest he disappear, lest this not actually all be real, lest this be some fever dream in the deadlights, but then eventually he remembers waking up with the golden light of a late summer sunset falling over him, bundled under a pile of blankets in that guest room, Beverly sitting next to him, watching tv.

“I need to get back to the hospital,” he’d rasped at her, reaching for his glasses.

“You need to go back to sleep,” she’d murmured, brushing his hair out of his eyes with sisterly affection.  He had.

The weather grew cold, and the leaves turned the brilliant colors of fall in Maine, something else Richie had forgotten, and forgotten that he’d loved. One day, between the hospital and home, when Stan’s wife, Patty, who he’d begun to think of as the group’s tiny little blonde guardian angel, ushered him into a Halloween store to find Eddie “something seasonal to brighten that room up!” Richie realized that…none of them had gone home.

“Wait!” he surprised Patty by how quickly he sort of…grabbed her. She responded by turning and giving him a tight hug, to which he replied, feeling like a dunce, with “Don’t you all have lives?”

She blinked up at him, “Hm?”

“You flew all the way up here the second Stan called you. Audra came out. None of you have gone home. What about your jobs? Your houses? Your lives?”

“You’re family. Eddie’s family. You all need us.”

“Yes, Patty, and we love you very much, but the logistics-”

“We all figured, we’re…established, enough,” she shrugged, “We’ve all done well, Trashmouth. We’re in a position to be here, so we are. And besides,” she giggled brightly, “Ben is loaded.”

He laughed. She laughed. They left with a stuffed monkey dressed up as a mummy. Eddie would hate it.

The week before Thanksgiving, they sprung him. Until you really got to know Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie explained, he was a charming son of a bitch and had somehow convinced the nurses that that was his true nature.

Eddie, seated on the edge of his hospital bed as Richie stooped to tie his shoes for him, groaned, “Yes, Richie. I love you, too.”

Eddie got the guest room after that, which meant that Richie, who’d insisted on an air mattress and that someone else take that bed, was back in that cozy room, and for the first time since that awful day on Neibolt Street, since the nights before, hiding, sneaking from one room to another, Richie slept with Eddie in his arms, the cold sweating of nightmares gone, beaten back by the warmth, the solidity of the other man. Eddie was there, Eddie was real, and Eddie was alive.

So yes, even as he stood there, holding a half melting stick of butter that he was pretty sure that he was about to unceremoniously shove up a turkey’s ass, Richie Tozier was grateful.

“Rich? Hellllloooooooooo. Earth to Richie,” Bill waved a hand in his face, “Psst. You in there?”

Richie shook his thoughts clear, “Yeah, uh..yeah. I’m here. Sorry. Shit. What do I do with this?” 

Bill looked back at the cookbook, then at the butter, then back to the cookbook, and sighed with relief, “Thank fuck. We rub it under the skin-”

“It puts the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again!” Richie couldn’t help himself, voice and all. 

“Jesus Christ, Richie.”

“It’s so the turkey doesn’t get dry!” Eddie called from the window seat, “Please don’t make me get up and come over there.” 

“The turkey is not going to be dry, Eduardo!” Richie called back, and passed the now slippery stick of what surely was not butter but felt like pure grease, and was probably, in all actuality, the margarine that Eddie tried to convince them caused cancer if eaten literally ever at all, unceremoniously to a very confused Bill. “Here, you handle this, Big Bill,” he said, and wandered off to entertain Eddie and the cat before the former could offer any more unsolicited advice. Bill blinked at him, and sighed - some people never change, not even almost three decades and a murdered clown later. He was definitely going to need a drink.

+++

It was margarine and the turkey was dry (due, however, more to Bill getting a little tipsy and not setting his timer for the right amount of time after he stuffed the turkey into the apartment’s small-ish oven, than to any lack of comprehension from two grown men of at least above average intelligence but very little usable kitchen skill about what to do with butter on Thanksgiving when cooking,) but they were all too wrapped up in the warm glow of the occasion to notice once they all finally sat down to eat, Mike doing the honors of carving the bird expertly for someone who, the night before, had confessed that he not only hadn’t done a real Thanksgiving in twenty seven years but was also a vegetarian. Patty led the table in a round of applause as he took a small bow before sitting down, his grin wide and bright. 

Everyone looked expectantly to Bill, at the head of the table, always their leader, who looked, lost to his wife. Audra chuckled and gave his hand a squeeze under the table, “Should we say grace?”

“I will! I will!” Richie offered, to only mild protest, “Everybody hold hands, c’mon, pretend like we like each other, c’mon, c’mon.” The Losers, and their now honorary members, Audra and Patty, obliged, and Richie cleared his throat, bowing his head, “Dear Lord, we uh…thank you for…this day and these people and stuff and for that time that Jesus kid was…in Turkey and he…did some stuff-”

“Richie we’re Jewish why are you talking about Jesus,” Stan muttered. 

Richie, unfazed continued, “Or maybe today we just have turkey, maybe he wasn’t in turkey, wait…is that why we have turkey, is it-”

“Heeeeeeeey, I have an idea,” Ben interjected, “Instead of…whatever that was, why don’t we all just say something we’re thankful for? It’s been one hell of a year, and I have a lot I’m thankful for now.”

“Great idea!” Bev lit up, smiling up at him, “I’ll go first. This year, I’m thankful for all of you, and I’m thankful for Ben, and,” she peeked under the table at Ben’s large German Shepherd, his bowl already emptied between his paws, waiting for table scraps, “Scout down there, and Sprinkles, wherever she got to.”

“Same,” Ben seconded, “All of you and Bev and…our freedom.”

Patty raised her water glass, “I think that’s worth toasting. No more clowns!”

To the clink of glasses, they echoed, “No more clowns.” 

“I’m thankful for Mike!” Bill went next, “I mean, yes, I’m thankful for all of you. Audra, Stan, all of you, I mean that. But Mikey…dude, you st-stayed here f-f-for us. You remembered.”

“And then you took us all in!” Beverly added. Mike ducked his head, “Thank you. I’d do it again. I’m thankful you all came back.” 

“I’m thankful that Bill called me, after Mike did,” Stan said softly, “I was in a bad place and…about to do something drastic,” his voice was barely audible at the other end of the table, “And I would have never gotten to see us all this happy.”

Patty wrapped her arm around his and kissed his shoulder, “I’m thankful for that, too. And that you’ve all let me be a part of this family.”

“Same here,” Audra offered. A chorus of ‘we love you’s and ‘of course you’re part of this family’ went up to the both of them. 

“I’m thankful to be alive,” said Eddie, “I’m thankful that I get to…actually live my life now. I feel like I went from my mother to Myra and-”

“I’m thankful for divorce attornies,” Richie muttered.

“Beep beep, Richie,” Beverly muttered.

Eddie continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted, “Like, yeah, I almost died which is extremely fucking weird to say or even…think about…but…I get to live now. I’m not under mom’s thumb. I’m not under Myra’s thumb-”

“You just have me wrapped around your little finger,” Richie’s smile, for once, wasn’t wry or sardonic, but warm, and gentle and his eyes were so soft as he looked at the other man. 

Under the table, Eddie slipped his hand into Richie’s and squeezed it three times: I love you. “You love it.”

“I do.”

“And what about you, Rich?” Stan asked, beaming, “What are you thankful for? Besides Eddie’s divorce attorney, I mean.”

“A lot,” Richie was surprisingly quiet, and reverent, “Everything? All of you? That…I finally get to spend the rest of my life next to this weird little gremlin-”

“Hey-”

“Who I love more than anything in the world. Who I never stopped loving, not for a second. Who my heart always remembered.” 

Their eyes met, Eddie’s filling with tears. 

Ding, ding, ding! Patty tapped her spoon on her glass, and soon the others joined her, “Kiss! Kiss!” 

That cold, snowy Thanksgiving night, in a warm apartment in Derry, Maine, filled with love and friendship, Richie Tozier kissed Eddie Kaspbrak, and everything was absolutely golden.