#i reread the first two books so quickly i already forgot everything but i will pay attention for hof qos and the novella. i will pay it

[eerna]

my ToG presentation is entering its second stage, AKA the era in which I unironically enjoyed it, and rereading is making me remember how much I love Elide Lochan help me hel p m e

[lauraneedstochill]

“All yours” (modern!Aemond Targaryen, college au, part 1)

🔥 part 2: First time for everything

author’s note: the idea came out of NOWHERE. I reread my The Greens (modern!au) — and then this thing happened. to keep up with the tradition I’m posting it as it is (I may regret it when I wake up lmao), hopefully, some of you can enjoy this silliness! ✨ • Aemond doesn’t lose an eye but he still has a big scar (let’s pretend Luke missed by a couple of inches) • I originally said that he’d be into sports however I’m yet to pick a sport for him so the description is very vague (I’m open to suggestions!)

words: ~3000 (I TRIED to cut it short... but alas)

warnings: none, I think? they just swoon over each other (and a cheeky blond makes an appearance again ;)

⋙ It’s impossible not to know who Aemond Targaryen is when pretty much every girl on campus has a crush on him. The tall athletic guy with chiseled cheekbones and bright eyes who wins one tournament after another, manages to stay at the top of his classes but barely talks to anyone and has a handful of friends. Even the scar on the left side of his face — a faded red stripe from his temple and down to the cheek — only adds to his appeal although you suspect it’s mostly due to people not knowing how he got said scar. Come to think of it, there isn’t much to know about him at all: he’s not on social media, rarely goes to parties, stays out of trouble and doesn’t even like his pictures being taken. There is a certain charm to that mystery yet you also can’t help but respect his intelligence and perseverance. (And you may find him attractive, but that’s a given.)

⋙ You share a few classes with him, and he usually sits nearby although you think it’s purely a coincidence. He once gave you his pen when you forgot yours, and he also sometimes stands behind you in line for coffee in the nearby cafeteria but you never really interact. You catch him looking at you a couple of times and you don’t think much of it. You might’ve thrown a glance or two at him, too, since there’s no crime in that.

⋙ You get paired up for a project by mere chance: your best friend fell sick and his mate missed the class for whatever reason so you and Aemond are the only ones without a partner, and Mr. Harrold tells you to work together. Aemond approaches you when the class is over.

“Hi” — “Hi” you say in unison. There’s a glint of a smile on his lips, his eyes studying your face.

“I’ve got two training sessions today, can we maybe start tomorrow?” he suggests.

“Sure, tomorrow sounds fine,” you nod. “Meet me in the library at 3?”

You quickly discuss the books you’ll need, and he casually asks for your number so you could text him the details. While you’re typing it, you miss the grin that appears on his face. Truth be told, you’re too busy thinking of how good his arms look with his sleeves rolled up.

⋙ The next day, he’s only five minutes late. You don’t even notice, wrapped up in reading, until he rushes in, a tad disheveled and very apologetic. You are about to tell him it’s no big deal when you notice blood on his hand — or more so on his knuckles. He looks like he wants to avoid the subject but you are truly shocked at the sight.

“Should I worry about the other guy?” you muster a smile, looking him over with concern.

“He deserved it,” Aemond mumbles as he sits next to you, averting his gaze.

He goes to dig some books out of his bag when you take his hand — you do so without thinking, it almost comes out as a reflex. While you examine his bruised skin, Aemond pretty much forgets how to breathe.

“It’s not that bad but will swell up in the morning, so you need to apply some ice,” you tell him, fingers gently brushing over his. “Here, this is the next best thing I can think of,” you grab your cup of iced coffee and put it to his knuckles. When you glance up at Aemond, you see him looking at you with a stunned face expression, and you realize that you might’ve overstepped a little.

“I’m sorry, you probably already know what to do without my advice,” you move to pull back the cup, but he suddenly covers your hand with his other palm.

“Don’t,” he breathes out. “This feels nice.”

Within a few seconds, his cheeks turn red.

“The ice, I mean, you were right about applying the ice,” he corrects himself, and you can’t help but smile wider. The most popular guy on campus is blushing because you held his hand, and there’s something very endearing about this moment. Or maybe it’s just him.

You push that thought away and divert the conversation to your assigned project. He keeps his hand intertwined with yours for the rest of the evening, both of you acting like it’s no big deal.

⋙ The next time you see him, he brings you coffee, and somehow he guesses your order perfectly. You meet up a few times a week, and he makes sure to come in time. Always prepared and polite, he buys you coffee regularly and insists on carrying all your books. You now sit together in classes, he shares his secret Spotify account with you and you learn that you share a passion for reading. Aemond also gives you his hoodie when he notices that you’re cold on your way out of the library one evening. He pulls the hoodie up over his head and his T-shirt comes up, too, exposing his lower abdomen and the tight lines of his abs. You take a deep, long breath, pretending that you didn’t see a thing.

And sometimes his hands brush yours and his gaze lingers on your face. But it’s another thing you try not to think of.

⋙ He mentions in passing that his training will get more intense as the competition season begins. At this point, you’ve been meeting for a couple of weeks pretty regularly, and you feel a slight twinge in your heart at the realization that you’ll see him less often. What you don’t expect is for him to stand you up. At any other time, you might’ve cut him some slack, but it just so happened that you are in a really bad mood since the moment you woke up, and him not answering your texts only rile you up.

You are so annoyed, you come into the locker room with little to no hesitation. Most of the guys already left but you still hear a couple of them whistling at you, and you flip them off. Aemond just got out of the shower and when you see him, he already has his jeans on and stands next to his locker searching for a clean shirt.

“Dude, your girl looks pissed,” one of his mates comments, and Aemond gives him a perplexed look. And then he turns to see you, your eyes burning holes in him, and his face pales.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters. “We were supposed to meet, weren’t we?”

“Yep,” you drawl with a frown, and his face falls even more.

He doesn’t have time to explain as you hear another whistle.

“Nice ass,” it’s Jeff, one of the frat boys who’s famous for not keeping his hands to himself. You are about to shut him off but when Jeff looks up at you, his smirk disappears.

“Woah, I didn’t know it was you!” he raises his hands in defense. “My apologies to your ass,” he glances behind your back, terrified. “...To you, I mean my apologies to you!” he backs off. “Hey, it was meant as a compliment, tell your boyfriend I’m not his punching bag!”

“You need to google what a compliment is, you idiot,” you scoff at him, and Jeff all but runs off.

The room is awkwardly quiet, and Aemond’s friends quickly get out, leaving you two alone. He barely has time to open his mouth before you press your hand to his chest, making him stumble back purely out of surprise.

“Care to explain what the hell was that?” you hiss at him, your gaze burning. “My boyfriend?!”

“I didn’t say that, he made an assumption,” Aemond clarifies.

“Jeff was the one you got into a fight with?” you suddenly figure out. “But why?”

“He was talking shit about you,” he says, clearly displeased.

“And you decided it was worth a fight? I could not care less if he — ”

“I do,” Aemond cuts you off. “And I think it was worth it,” he punctuates with so much certainty, it takes you aback.

In the next second, you realize that your hand is still on his bare chest — it’s warm and toned, his muscles tense under your touch — and you are standing very close to each other. It’s very, very hard not to think of.

“Um, thank you, I guess,” you step back with your gaze still on him. “I-I shouldn’t have barged in here, it wasn’t very —”

One of your legs bumps into a bench, your eyes widen — and you are about to trip over when Aemond catches you. With a blink of an eye, his hands are on your waist as he brings you closer again, and this time the distance between you two is even shorter. You involuntarily look at his lips and when you glance back up, you catch him looking at yours.

If he kisses you right now, you won’t mind. In fact, you will probably enjoy it. Probably a lot.

Aemond clears his throat and pulls back.

“I’m sorry that I stood you up, the coach didn’t let us rest for a minute,” he explains with a repentant tone. “I wanted to send you a text, I really did. And then it just went out of my head.”

“It’s fine, I get it,” you give him a wan smile. “You warned me that you would be busy.”

“Still, it was rude on my part,” he insists. “You have any plans for the evening? We can still go to the library, I’m all yours for today.”

The way he phrases it makes your heart skip a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek to concentrate.

“They closed earlier,” you sigh. “Something about updating the catalog.”

Aemond only thinks for a second.

“I, um... Live close by. Maybe you can come over? No one will bother us there,” his smile looks sheepish and unsure but there’s a hint of eagerness in his voice. And he is still very much half-naked.

“I happen to be completely free,” you say as your concentration goes out of the window.

⋙ Aemond apologizes again, profusely. He gives apologies in the locker room, on your way out, in the cab — and when you get out of the car and he opens his mouth again — you turn and firmly place your hand over it.

“I think I got it the first time,” you tell him, and he looks amused with your act.

You feel him smiling, his lips tickling your palm, and you move your fingers away as your cheeks heat up.

“Quite fierce, aren’t you,” he remarks.

You don’t notice a sidewalk curb but Aemond does — his hand finds yours when you are a moment away from stumbling again, and he tugs you closer. He doesn’t comment on it, asking you about your day instead. There are a few other parts of your body where you want him to put his hands on, you think.

⋙ His apartment is unexpectedly huge — four bedrooms and a living room, high ceilings and large windows, and you can’t hide your bewilderment. He half-heartedly explains that his dad left it to them after the divorce.

“Oh, so it’s not just yours,” you conclude, relieved. “Makes it look like less of a palace.”

“I have my own, actually,” he almost looks ashamed, and you find his modesty ever so adorable. “I’ve repainted the walls, and the place needs some air. So I’m crushing here at the moment.”

He tells you that his older brother Aegon mostly hangs out in his gallery, Helaena took a week off to visit her friends, and you already know that their youngest — Daeron — studies abroad.

“Mum recently moved in with her boyfriend,” Aemond nonchalantly adds while showing you to his room.

You realize that it’s just the two of you. The thought of it warms up the lower part of your body, anticipation tingling in your abdomen, but you do your best to keep it together.

Luckily, you get easily distracted by the beautiful interior, his sister’s plants and paintings, and rows of photos on the walls, and you try not to gawk at the surroundings. Aemond tries not to gawk at you. You both fail.

“Feel yourself at home, I’ll go look for my charger,” his hand grazes your back after he opens the door. Aemond leaves you standing but the feeling of his touch remains. You have to pinch yourself to get back to reality.

⋙ You see his bookshelf that stretches from one end of the room to the other, and excitement bubbles in your chest as you rush to take a closer look. There’s a plethora of books of all colors and genres, paperback and hardcover, and you energetically look through the rows filled with them. You reach for one of the books on the upper berth, standing on your tiptoes but it causes you to lose balance. The only reason you don’t fall flat on your back is because Aemond’s hand swiftly lands on your waist, steading you. He turns you around to him, and your faces are suddenly only inches apart.

“Are you always this clumsy?” he chuckles lightly, his breath fanning over your skin.

Only when you are around, apparently.

Aemond’s lips part, his brows raising, and he stares at you, surprised. And then you realize that you said it out loud. Before you get a chance to correct yourself, he lets out a laugh, and you feel your face flushing. You close your eyes in embarrassment, trying to steady your breath, and his laughter dies down. He firmly locks his hands around you.

“What’s on your mind?” Aemond murmurs after a minute of silence.

You, you, you. Fearing that there’s still a chance that you are misreading the situation, you vaguely respond:

“A lot of things,” but your voice comes out strained and quiet.

When you don’t hear him replying, you open your eyes — your gaze immediately meeting his. The warmth from his hands slips into your body.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” Aemond asks in a low tone, his eyes a shade darker in this lightning. You shake your head because talking seems like an actual challenge right now.

“Kissing you,” he confesses, maintaining eye contact.

You inhale sharply, a wave of relief washing over you. And then something else sparkles inside, tightening your chest, and the well-known burning sensation blossoms right under your navel.

“You should,” you tell Aemond, and it’s the only confirmation he needs.

He crashes his lips into yours with fervor, pulling your chest flush against his and knocking the breath from your lungs. His hand cups your face, guiding you even closer, his mouth greedy and intent with its every movement, and your head goes dizzy with longing. The kiss is both tender and heated, and you lose yourself in the moment, only thinking of how soft and supple his lips are, and how ineffably good they feel.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” Aemond mumbles against your mouth.

“Only been a month,” you manage to say while his lips move from your jaw to your neck.

“Long before that,” his words burn the spot just below your ear, making you shiver. “Ever since you argued with Mr. Harrold that Zelda Fitzgerald wrote ‘The Great Gatsby’ and her husband was a total — hmm, how did you call him? Yeah, a total nitwit,” he cackles.

You glance at him with your mouth ajar:

“Aemond, that was last semester.”

“I didn’t know how to approach you,” he admits, abashed. “And I didn’t want it to be weird or to mess it up and — ”

You shut him off with another kiss, and he hums in satisfaction. His thumb softly rubs your cheek while he deepens the kiss, his mouth exploring yours. His other hand dares to move lower, squeezing your hip and making you sigh at the alacrity of his. It’s simultaneously overwhelming and not enough but he still holds back a little, not crossing the line just yet.

“Wow, can’t believe this is finally happening!”

You break the kiss, startled by someone’s voice. A blond guy is leaning on the door frame, a pair of glasses and a grin on his face. Aemond groans into your shoulder, his hands moving to your waist.

“It’s Y/N, right? I’m this dipshit’s brother,” he shamelessly walks closer and extends a hand. You reluctantly go for a handshake, but he plants a quick kiss on yours.

“Aegon,” Aemond says with a warning tone.

“Oh, don’t grumble at me, I’ve been listening to you talk about her for months,” his brother’s smile widens. “Now Hel owes me 50 bucks.”

“Why is that?” you squint at him.

“We made a bet. I said he’d grow a pair and ask you out before the year ends. Glad I was right,” he snickers.

“Well, technically...,” you can help but laugh.

“He still didn’t?” Aegon fakes a gasp. “I apologize on his behalf, I taught him better than that!”

“Can you please fuck off already?” Aemond glares at him, irritated, and Aegon rolls his eyes but takes the hint.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it, kids,” he winks at you and walks away.

“I like him,” you exclaim.

“I don’t,” Aemond retorts and pulls you in for a kiss as soon as the door closes. “But I will let him win the bet.”

“Is that so?” you cock your head with a smile.

“Yeah,” he pauses, his face getting serious, and he almost looks scared while asking: “Will you go on a date with me?”

“I’d love to,” you agree without a second thought, and his lips twitch upward, making your heart swell with affection. “Where do you plan on taking me?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Aemond says cryptically, his eyes never leaving yours. “May be more than just one date,” he sounds both daring and pleading. You gently trace the line of his scar, and he relaxes at the movement.

“So you are all mine for a while, huh?” you joyfully assume, earning a laugh from him, and he leans in, his hand lovingly caressing your face.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” he whispers before closing the distance between your lips. ➡ part 2: First time for everything

• listen, I looked at his face and I thought there’s no way girls won’t find him attractive, with or without a scar. so yeah, this version of Aemond is more confident. I may do a second part? maybe more headcanons (love confessions, meeting his family, moving in together, etc.)

• I kinda want to write for Aegon, too... I mean, just look at the original photo and tell me he doesn’t seem like the sweetest fuckboy ever! tagging @greenowlfactif, @kyuupidwrites since you asked (I hope that’s fine 🥺)

✨ recent fic: “My first choice” (she’s Aegon’s bestie, inspired by “Little women”) 💌 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

[home-is-where-the-books-are]

It seems to me that the best books are those that you re-read and find something new in them every time.

I recently saw a review on the Ninth House, where a girl wrote that she barely read the book to the middle, because events jump too quickly between the past and the present, and she did not understand what was happening. I remembered that when I read this book, I also didn’t understand a lot of things and got confused, so as soon as I finished reading, I started reading from the beginning, already knowing who is who and where it all will lead. Since then, I have read the book more than thirty times (in whole or piecewise), but I still find things and details that I did not pay attention to.

There is something indescribably beautiful when you read a book and look at a character in a new way. You remember: "When I read for the first time, I decided that he was a show off and an egoist." And now you have already read all the chapters from his POV, learned about his past and now you understand that he is just a lonely person who survives in this world in his own way.

The most interesting thing with such rereading is to read from "another character". I don't mean when the chapter is told from the point of view of one character's feelings and thoughts. Try reading the same chapter, but focusing on the character the hero is interacting with. What could he be thinking at that moment? Did he really do it this way, and not otherwise, because he is arrogant, or is it all about something else? When I first read The Ninth House, I was a bit brainwashed by the "two Darlingtons": the chapters from the perspective of Darlington were very different from how he was presented in Alex's memoirs. Rereading the book, I realized how wrong Alex had thought about him. The stinging thoughts of the girl that Darlington was bathing in luxury were so strong that I forgot that in fact he had rather modest savings. He is not a boy who gets everything he wants. He is a boy who survived by hard work and suffering, but raised as a gentleman by his grandfather.

A good book is a book that never ceases to amaze you. This is a book that leaves behind a thousand questions - but at the same time contains almost all the answers, if you can find them.

[tulsa-trash]

Book Swap

Request: could you do a modern!pony x reader imagine where you're both in 9th grade and meet at the library, and one day you finally have the guts to ask for his number, so you guys start texting and then you start crushing on him and then you have to figure out how to tell him, so u ask two-bit and johnny for advice

WARNING(S): N/A

You sighed deeply as you began to reread the same sentence in your book for what felt like the twentieth time. It seemed as though you were reading but not even comprehending the words. To be fair, it was impossible to get lost in a book when a familiar cute boy was sitting a table over from you.

Ponyboy Curtis. How does one even begin to describe the amazing human you had the honor of being within five feet of? Unlike most guys in high school, Pony was something special. He was kind and very smart, you knew this because you have English with him. You've never seen someone so into a class before, he also appeared to have an interest in literature, like you. The both of you were nothing but mere acquaintances, and you secretly wished you could change that.

It didn't help that you found him absolutely dreamy. His brown hair was always a little messy, but it still managed to make him even cuter. You always feel your heart skip a beat whenever your eyes would meet his sparkling green ones in the hallways. You'd smile whenever you'd see him laughing with his friends, it showed off his dimples that sunk into his cheeks. Ponyboy Curtis was the boy of your dreams, and the young man was completely oblivious.

Your phone vibrated on the desk you were sitting at. Glancing up from your book, you seen that it was a text from one of your friends. After placing your bookmark in between the pages you unlocked your phone.

Evie: So? Did you talk to him yet?

You rolled your eyes after reading the message, your fingers quickly tapped at the screen as you typed your response.

Y/N: No obviously not. Now leave me alone.

Kathy: Girl go for it! He's a nice kid you said so yourself.

Y/N: Uh nope. Much rather stare at him from afar and not make a fool of myself attempting to talk to him.

Kathy: Well if you don't not only will I embarrass you in front of lover boy, everyone in this library will see me screaming at you and we'll both probably get kicked out.

Y/N: Wait what? How do you know I'm at the library?? Are you here right now???

Kathy: Look over at the fantasy section you nerd. You being you I obviously knew where YOU would be on a Saturday afternoon.

You looked up, eyes widening in shock as you saw your friend hiding behind a bookshelf watching you with a sly grin.

Kathy: Make a move now or I'm coming over there.

With already shaking hands you put your phone in your pocket and grabbed your book. You sent Kathy a pleading look, but all she did was shake her head and point towards Ponyboy violently. Taking in a deep breath, you got up. The chair scraped against the floor, creating a loud noise which made at least five people look up at you... including him.

"Oh god." You mumbled under your breath.

In your peripheral vision you could see Ponyboy's gaze return to his book, taking that as your cue to move you slowly crept to his table. You had made it to the chair directly across from him, he was so caught up in his book he didn't even notice your presence. You smiled softly, his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration while his eyes scanned the pages back and forth. You awkwardly cleared your throat, not too loud to disturb others but just enough for him to tear his attention from his book to notice you.

"Oh, hey." Ponyboy said, "Can I help you with somethin'?"

"Um..." Jesus this was going to be way harder than you thought. "W-Would you mind if I sat with ya?"

"Not at all. Go ahead." He sent you a friendly smile as he gestured to the chair you were at.

His smile. Your legs already feel like jello, you could've sworn you were going to collapse right then in there.

"Y/N, right?" He asked as you sat down.

"That's me. And you're Ponyboy."

"Yep, couldn't forget a name like that if you tried." He joked.

You giggled as you opened your book, Ponyboy returned to his. Curiosity got the better of you when you looked back up to see what he was reading.

"Gone With the Wind." You read aloud.

"Have you read it before?" He asked.

You shook your head, "I haven't, but I've heard only good things about it. I saw the movie about a year ago and thought it was great."

"The book is amazing!" He gushed, only to be shushed by the librarian walking by. "This is my fifth time reading it." He told you in a more hushed tone.

You snickered, "Must be really great."

"What ya got there?"

You lifted up your book from the table to reveal the cover to him, his bright eyes scanned the cover.

"The Boy in Striped Pajamas?"

"I know the title seems a bit odd, but trust me this is a good read." You told him, "This being my third time reading it."

"Well what's it about?" He asked.

You went on to tell him about your book, and he went on to tell you all about his. The both of you began to talk about anything and everything, you were beyond happy that things were going well. You were having so much fun you completely forgot about Kathy spying on you, before either of you could realize it two hours had gone by.

You peaked at your phone and cursed under your breath, the lock screen had a reminder that your shift at work was starting in less than thirty minutes.

"I really hate to end this... but I gotta go." You said.

"That sucks." He said disappointedly.

You couldn't help feeling a little giddy inside to see that he was upset you were leaving. While you got up and gathered your things, you remembered that you wanted to get his phone number badly. You just had to figure out a way to get it without making things awkward.

"Hey, Pone?"

He hummed in response.

"What do ya say we swap books... and numbers? Thats only if you want to. I just figured since we read them already and it was cool talk--"

"I'd like that." He stopped your rambling, only to send you a warm smile while doing so.

You blushed as the both of you swapped phones to put in each others information along with handing each other your books. With a final wave goodbye you left the library, your best friend of course followed after you. She interrogated you with thousands of questions and the both of you walked to work, you gladly answered them all in an almost dazed state. You felt as if you were walking on air for the rest of the day, and you couldn't wait to text him later on.

-

Two weeks had gone by, and let's just say those two weeks have been the best ones of your life. You and Ponyboy had been texting every single day. At first you just talked about each other's books, but then your conversations started evolve to anything and everything. You knew you had liked him before, but your feelings for him have grown drastically. It was beginning to get unbearable holding in how you truly felt, and you weren't sure if you wanted to tell him.

The fear of rejection was one of the main reasons why you've been thinking of just repressing your feelings. Sure, he seemed to like you, but it felt as though he only liked you simply as a friend. Another reason being you were afraid that it would ruin things between the both of you. You had finally become good friends, the last thing you wanted was for everything to end up being awkward all because of you and your silly crush.

After a lot of thinking you decided you needed some advice, and by advice you mean advice thats not only from Kathy. She keeps telling you to go for it, but she doesn't really know Ponyboy well. That's why you got the idea to ask one of his buddies on their opinion. Luckily Pony invited you to watch him and his friends play football. You ceased the opportunity, not only would you be able to watch the boy of your dreams get all sweaty and tuff looking, you could also get one of his friends alone to talk about how you felt.

It was a warm, Sunday morning in Tulsa. The sun was high in the sky and beat down harshly on the group of boys tackling each other in the giant field. You sat under a tree with a notebook in your lap, a cool breeze would rush by every now and then, cooling you off the slightest. You doodled randomness on the blank pages, sketching pictures and honing your writing skills. Every now and then you would glance up and watch the game for a few, sometimes cheering the boys on or laughing when they began to goof off and wrestle each other on the ground.

There was a particular drawing you found yourself enthralled in, as the pencil in your hand smoothly ran across the paper you found yourself sketching a picture of Ponyboy's face. You were so focused you didn't even notice someone come over and take a seat right beside you.

"Nice drawin' you got there." A quiet voice spoke.

You quickly slammed the notebook closed and snapped you head to the right, it was Ponyboy's best friend, Johnny. A tiny smirk was tugging at his lips as he looked at you with one eyebrow raised.

"T-Thanks." You stuttered nervously.

"You like him, huh?" He asked you.

You stood silent as you played with the grass below you, pulling it from the Earth and rubbing it between your fingers. Your gaze was straight ahead watching the game, you were afraid to meet Johnny's gaze that was burning holes into the side of your head.

"Yes..." You hesitated a bit, "I do."

"Does he know?"

"No!" You said hopelessly, "And I'm not sure if I even want him to know."

"Why not?"

"Because he probably doesn't feel the same..." You trailed off.

"Hey now, ya never know." Johnny said.

"What are you two kiddies doin' over here?" A loud voice bellowed.

It was none other than Two-Bit, he staggered over to the both of you before plopping down to your left. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead and trickling down his neck.

"You tryin' to make moves on Pony's girl or somethin', John?" Two asked playfully.

Your heart fluttered, 'Pony's girl.'

"No way, man. Trust me." Johnny chuckled.

"Pony's girl?" You repeated to him questioningly.

"Oh yeah! I see the way y'all look at each other I ain't blind."

You let Two's words sink in, was it that obvious that you liked him? He even said that Pony looks at you a certain way as well. Maybe there was a chance he shared your feelings after all.

"You think he likes me or somethin'?" You asked casually.

"Oh I don't think, I know."

You smiled softly, butterflies erupting in your stomach. In the back of your mind you worried that you were getting your hopes up a little too high, but you couldn't help it.

"I like him too." You admitted.

Two-Bit scoffed, "Tell me somethin' I don't know."

"Well... what should I do?"

"Tell him." Two replied.

"I agree." Johnny piped up.

Both nerves and excitement began to bubble up inside you as you got up and gathered your things.

"Where are you off to?" Johnny asked as you began to jog away from them.

"Gotta head home. Tell Ponyboy I'm sorry I had to leave but I'll text him later!"

"See ya later lover girl!" Two-Bit hollered after you while preceding to make kissing noises.

You laughed to yourself and shook your head, "Idiot."

-

Y/N: Whats up Pone-bone?

Ponyboy: Nothing much lil lady, and yourself?

Y/N: Same. Btw sorry for leaving so soon today, had some things to do.

Ponyboy: It's alright.

Hey what were you, Johnny and Two talking about? They didn't try to tease you or nothin right?

Y/N: Nooo ofc not they were just chattin

But thats actually what I wanted to talk to you about...

Ponyboy: Well... Go on then

Y/N: Okay I'm just gonna say it

I like you

like a lot

Ponyboy: As a friend or?

Y/N: No silly, like more than friends...

Ponyboy: Wait actually?

Y/N: Yes Pony

Ponyboy: Seriously??

Y/N: OMG YES!!

I LIKE YOU A LOT!

... im sorry if it weirds you out

Ponyboy: NO! NO IT DOESN'T.

SORRY

... Just wanted to make sure this isn't a prank or whatever.

But in all seriousness yes, I like you a whole lot.

Y/N: Are you sure?

Ponyboy: Positive doll

Do you wanna grab some milkshakes at the Dingo next weekend?

Y/N: Are you asking me out onna date Curtis?

Ponyboy: Yes, I am ;)

Y/N: Well I would love to :)

[onlyfreds]

Closer | F.W.

Title: Closer (High School!Au)

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: Fred Weasley is one of Hogwarts High’s most popular students. On the other hand, Y/N L/N is the school’s smartest. After the latter starts tutoring Fred, he starts to wonder why he had never noticed her before.

“I love you! No time to explain!”

Those were the words that started my relationship with Fred Weasley.

Nobody really expected that school’s smartest student would end up dating the most popular one.

But let’s start from the beginning, shall we?  

--

It was started on a Monday morning at the Cafeteria.

“I thought you were supposed to call me?” My best friend, Jennie, said as she sat in front of me.

Unfortunately, I was too busy staring at the most popular (and most handsome) student in school, Fred Weasley.

I was pulled out of my trance by Jennie snapping her fingers in front of my face, “Hello? Are you even listening?”

I gave her a blank look, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I thought you were supposed to call me?” She repeated.

I smiled sheepishly at her, “Sorry, I was in such a rush this morning that I forgot.”

“Now that’s resolved.” She said with a small smile, “Who were you busy staring at?”

My eyes widened at her words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jennie playfully rolled her eyes, “You fully know what I’m talking about.”

She then turned to look behind her, exactly in the direction I was looking at earlier.

“Ooh.” She mused as I felt my cheeks heat up, “You were staring at Fred.”

I looked down at my hands, “I wasn’t.”

“Come on.” She said, slightly leaning forward “It’s not like I’m a stranger. You know that you can tell me.”

I looked up at her, “You promise you’ll keep it a secret?”

Jennie laughed, “When did I ever share your secrets to anyone else? I didn’t even tell anyone about the party you threw while your parents were away.”

“Fine.” I said, “I have a thing for Fred.”

She squealed, “Do you want me to put in a good word for you? He’s in my friend group.”

“What? No.” I said a little too quickly, “Besides, why would he be interested in me?”

“Why not?” Jennie said, giving me a look, “You’re practically the smartest girls in this school, not to mention the prettiest one too!”

I scoffed, “The prettiest? You flatter me, Jennie.”

“What?” She said, “It’s true.”

I rolled my eyes at her, “Come on, we’ll be late for class.”

“Fine. Fine.” She tutted, “But I can always- “

“Jennie!”

“Okay! I get it, you think that you’re not good enough for him.”

I sighed, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder, “It’s not that I think that I’m not good enough for him. It’s just that there are so many other better options that someone like him can choose from, and I’m not one of them.”

“Fine. Whatever you say.” She said as we entered the classroom.

--

Our Biology class was already dismissed for the day; I was packing up my stuff to leave when our professor called for Fred.

I already slung my bag over my shoulder, and I was about to head out of the door when our professor called me, “Miss L/N, can you stay back for a minute?”

I stopped in my tracks, turning around and slowly walking towards the desk where Professor Lupin and Fred were standing.

“Yes Professor?” I asked, slightly aware of Fred’s gaze on me.

“Mr. Weasley here may be having a bit trouble with the subject. Since you’re the best student in my class. I was hoping that you could tutor him?” He explained.

I swear that my heart started beating faster the moment he said that. He and Fred were looking at me in anticipation.

“S-sure.” I managed to stutter out, “T-that’ll be great.”

Professor Lupin smiled, “Brilliant. Just coordinate with each other what times would be convenient for the both of you. Now, you’re both dismissed.”

Fred and I headed out of the classroom together, walking in comfortable silence.

“Thanks.” He suddenly said, “For willingly spending some extra time so you could tutor me.”

I looked up at him for the first time since leaving the classroom, “Of course. Anything to help.”

He smiled, handing me a piece of paper, “My number’s written there. Maybe we could start this Friday, after class?”

I nodded, “Sure.”

“I’ll see you then.” He said before leaving me to go over to his friends.

I suddenly felt an elbow rest on my left shoulder as I gazed at the direction where Fred had gone.

“So,” A voice spoke, “Spill the tea.”

I turned and saw Jennie, sporting a grin.

“What tea am I going to spill? Chamomile? Mint?” I teased.

She rolled her eyes, gently pushing me as I laughed, “No silly, I’m talking about the tea on you and Fred. Though mint doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Well, Professor Lupin asked if I could tutor Fred and of course I agreed.” When I looked at her, she was gaping at me with anticipation.

“Go on.” She urged, “Continue.”

I shrugged, “That’s it, the end.”

“No way!” She said, “Come on, I know there’s so much more to that story. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“That’s really it.” I said.

She huffed, “There’s no fun in that.”

--

Friday came faster than I expected.

I walked into the cafeteria, where I was supposed to meet up with Jennie after I spent free period in the library.

I saw Jennie, talking to Fred, twirling her hair around her finger while she laughed.

On the other hand, Fred smiled at something Jennie had said.

The exchange went on for a while, Fred tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, to which she giggled.

I turned my back at the sight, shoving the hair out of my face as I started to make my way out of the canteen.

I just couldn’t believe it, after everything Jennie said, she was the one who had a thing for Fred all along.

I rushed to the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror, gathering up my composure and making myself look as presentable as possible before heading back to the canteen.

I saw Jennie sitting by our spot, once she spotted me, I gave her a small smile and sat right across her.

“Hey.” She said, “Where did you go? I saw you already arrived then the next minute you were gone.”

“Oh, I just went to the bathroom for a sec.” I said.

She studied me for a minute, “Have you been crying?”

You really can’t hide anything from your best friend, Jennie knew me too well.

“Yeah.” I admitted quietly.

She reached forward and squeezed my hand gently, “Why?”

“Because, um, remember the book that I read last week that made me cry?” I lied.

Jennie laughed, “Let me guess, you read it again?”

I chuckled, avoiding her gaze, “Yeah. I did.”

“Why did you reread it? I told you not to read it again.” She asked through fits of laughter.

“I’m sorry.” I said giving a chuckle, “I couldn’t help it.”

Jennie shook her head teasingly, “What am I going to do with you?”

--

I sat down at the far end corner of the library, tapping my fingers against the desk while I quietly hummed along to the song I was listening to.

To live for the hope of it all. Cancel plans just in case you'd call, and say, "Meet me behind the mall”.

I felt a small tap on my shoulder, I immediately pulled out one of the earphones and turned to see Fred standing behind me.

“Hey Fred.” I greeted as he sat down in the seat next to me.

“Hey.” He said, “So, can we get started?”

I stowed away my earphones in my backpack, “Sure. So, what topics do you need help with?”

He shrugged, taking about his textbook, “Our most recent lesson, the one about reproduction.”

That’s when we started.

“Mitosis basically involves the division of body cells and it produces two diploid somatic cells that are genetically identical to each other. On the other hand, meiosis involves the division of sex cells and it produces four haploid gametes that are genetically unique to each other.” I explained.

The ginger nodded, “So, mitosis produces identical cells while meiosis produces different ones.”

I smiled, “Exactly.”

Three hours later, Fred was able to grasp the concept.

“Thank you so much Y/N.” Fred said as we walked out of the library.

“No problem.” I said, “If you have any more questions, you can ask me anytime.”

With that note, we went on our separate ways.

--

The following weeks happened on the same routine, every Friday Fred and I would be at the library after class, working on whatever concept Fred couldn’t understand.

Later that month, we had a surprise pop quiz in Biology.

I was standing by the courtyard, taking a photograph of the sun as part of my project for photography club when I suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist and lift me up in the air, spinning me around.

“Woah.” I said with a small laugh as whoever it was had finally put me down. I turned and saw Fred behind me, a big grin gracing his features.

“Hey Fred.” I said, hopefully that he’ll mistake my red cheeks for the heat, “What’s up.”

He grinned even wider, before pulling a piece of paper out of his bag and handing it to me.

I looked down at it, realizing that it was the pop quiz we had in Biology. And next to his name was the letter A in red ink.

“I got an A on the test.” He said, “I have never gotten an A before!”

I smiled at him, “Congrats! After all the hard work you’ve been doing, you totally deserve it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have done it without you.” He said.

I chuckled, “I only helped you understand it, you were still the one who answered the test.”

“But I wouldn’t be able to answer it if you didn’t help me understand it.” He insisted, “And as a token of my appreciation, I got you this.” Fred then handed me a red box which contained chocolates inside.

“Thanks.” I said, looking up at him.

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “No, thank you.”

--

(Fred’s POV)

It’s been a month since I started having tutor sessions with Y/N. I know that she’s one of the smartest people in school, but I don’t know why I didn’t notice her before.

My siblings and I were hanging out by the courtyard, talking about the Biology lesson that had been discussed an hour ago.

“That lesson had been the easiest one ever.” George said.

“Yeah.” Ron agreed, “I have no interest in biology whatsoever, but I have to say this is the concept that I was able to grasp in one lecture.”

“How about you Freddie?” Ginny asked, “What did you think of the lesson?”

I nodded, half of my mind in a daze, “Yeah, it was easy.”

Then I saw Y/N passing by, unaware that I was cutting off a conversation my siblings were trying to get me engaged in, I called out her, “Hey Y/N!”

She turned her head towards me, “Yeah?”

“Can we meet up this Friday? I kinda got confused with the lesson today.” I requested.

She nodded, offering a small smile, “Sure. I’ll see you then.” She said before walking off to her best friend.

I couldn’t keep the smile of my face as I turned my attention back to my siblings, who were now gaping at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You just said no more than five minutes ago that you found the lesson easy and now you want to meet up with Y/N a.k.a. your tutor?!” He asked.

I felt my cheeks heat up as I looked down at my hands, not answering the question.

My sister nudged Ron, “Honestly Ron, are you that blind? It’s obvious that Freddie’s in love with Y/N.”

“Aaw.” My twin cooed, reaching forward to ruffle my hair, “Freddie’s in love.”

I swatted his hand away, “I’m not in love.”

Ginny snorted, “As if we’d believe you Freddie. With all the gifts you’re giving her? The chocolates? The flowers? You almost decided at giving her a necklace at one point. Don’t tell me that it’s ‘just a token of your appreciation’.”

“And the way you would never shut up about her? Please Fred, you could do some much better than that.” George chimed in.

I sighed, feeling the blush on my cheeks transition to a darker shade, “Okay fine. She’s this wonderful angel that I’m pretty sure dropped straight down for heaven. I’m such an idiot for not noticing her sooner. And, with prom coming up next week, I’ve actually been meaning to ask her.” I confessed.

--

(Reader’s POV)

Fred and I were sitting in the library, chatting with each other and not really getting any work done.

“Okay. Okay.” I said after recovering from a laughing fit after Fred told me a story of him and George during their younger years, “But, we have to start on whatever you don’t understand because that’s what we’re here for.”

Fred smiled, “Actually. I understood it just fine.”

I gave him a confused look, “Then why did you asked to meet up?”

He smiled, taking out a bouquet of roses and handing it to me, “Well, since prom is happening in a week. I was wondering if you would be my date?”

I stared at him, awestruck. The Fred Weasley, the most popular guy in school, wanted me to be his date for prom?

“As a friend?” I asked.

He licked his lips, fiddling with the end of his shirt, “Well, I was wondering if you could actually be my date. But if you want to go as friends then it’s fine.”

I grinned, standing up and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “I would absolutely love to.”

“Great.” He said, his cheeks being painted with a shade of crimson, “I’ll pick you up at eight?”

I giggled, “That sounds like a great idea.”

--

“My girl’s already grown up now.” My mum cooed, as my father put an arm around her while I walked down the stairs in my y/f/c prom gown.

“How do I look?” I asked nervously, biting my bottom lip.

“Sweetie, you look absolutely wonderful.” My father said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

We suddenly heard the doorbell ring.

“Oh, he’s here!” My mum said as she opened the door, my father following suit.

From my spot at the staircase, I caught a glimpse of him. I swear, I could’ve fainted from how handsome he was.

“Is Y/N ready?” He asked, the grin evident in his voice.

My mum nodded, “Y/N, honey! Fred’s here!”

I came into view, Fred’s jaw visibly dropping as he saw me.

“Hey there beautiful.” He said, his eye dropping into a wink.

I smiled, looking down at my feet, “Thanks.”

He then offered his arm, and I took it as my mum said, “Have fun you two!”

Fred grinned, “We will!”

We both arrived at the venue an hour later.

We had a great time dancing the night away with no one else but each other.

Then came the moment wherein they would announce the prom king and queen.

“Now, I don’t want to keep you waiting anymore.” Professor Lupin said as one of the members of the student council handed him an envelope, “And the tonight’s prom king is none other than: Fred Weasley!”

A roar of applause echoed through the hall as I gently nudged Fred towards the stage as he was awarded with the sash and the crown.

From the rumors that I heard, Jennie was in the leading position for prom queen. So, I would exactly be surprised if she won.

“And now.” Professor Lupin continued as the roars and cheering died down, “For this year’s prom queen, it is none other than: Y/N L/N!”

What? I was prom queen? How did that happen?

Ginny nudged me gently, snapping me out of my thoughts, “Go on.” She urged, “They’re waiting for you.”

Fred was looking at me with a huge grin as I made my way to the stage, last year’s prom queen giving me the sash and the crown.

After the pictures has been taking, it was time for Fred and I to lead the first dance.

He lifted my hand and grazed his lips along the knuckles, “May I have this dance, my queen?”

I giggled, “Yes you may.”

--

As it grew deeper into the night, Fred and I were walking through the gardens under the starry sky.

“Thanks for being my date.” He said with a small smile.

“Of course, thank you for asking me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, “Well, can I confess something to you?”

I nodded, “Sure.”

Fred turned to face me and suddenly said, “I love you! No time to explain.”

Before I could even open my mouth to say ask what he meant, he suddenly crashed our lips together, my waist fitting perfectly into his hands as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Be my girlfriend?” He asked as we pulled apart.

I smiled, “I would want nothing more.”

Fred grinned as he started to attack my neck with open-mouthed kisses, “Think we should go somewhere private?”

“Absolutely.”

--

It was a week since prom, and it just proves that news and rumors travels fast around school.

“So Fred,” Jennie asked, twirling her hair around her finger, “I heard you have a girlfriend, who is the lucky girl?”

Fred caught my eye from across the way, beckoning me towards him.

“C’mere baby girl, don’t be shy.”

I smiled, walking towards him as he placed an arm around my waist and pressed a kiss on my cheek, causing my best friend’s jaw to drop.

Fred grinned, “I actually like to think that I am the lucky guy to be dating not only the smartest, but also, the prettiest girl in the school.”

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting @gostupid-godumb @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff  @pandaxnienke @escapingrealitybyreading @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts​ (Send a Message/Ask or fill out my taglist form if you want to be added!)

[hawks-supremacy]

Hiding Inside Yourself

Summary: After years of pretending to be someone you’re not you meet Tendou and suddenly you aren’t scared to be yourself.

Warnings: none?

Pairings: Tendou Satori x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

Even as a kid you never had many friends opting to keep to yourself instead. Your teachers tried to get you to interact with the other kids but you knew you wouldn’t really fit in with any of the girls in your class. While they wanted to play with dolls and put on their mothers clothes pretending to be grown up, you wanted to do different things. You didn’t really fit in with the girls who wanted to go outside and play various sports either. You just wanted to stay inside and watch cartoons or read books. You tried to make friends, it wasn’t like you had wanted to be alone but when you began talking to new people they grew tired of you upon realizing that you weren’t interested in the same things. So instead you sat on a bench reading an old comic your dad had while everyone else climbed and swung during play time outside. 

You thought middle school would be different. You’d have friends despite having different interests. You could hang out with your peers after school and not just because you had a school project to do together. You were wrong. Middle school was different, but it was different for the worst. Kids grew crueler, colder, meaner. Before middle school no one talked about the weird person who kept to themselves and read old beat up comics and manga. The hushed whispers in the hall as you passed by was something you didn’t have to worry about before. Now you were insecure and scared. Never wanting to stick out more than you did you stopped reading during class. Instead keeping your head down studying when you would usually be reading what happened to interest you at the time. 

Your parents were worried when you insisted that they take back their old comics and manga. They were worried when you slowly began to change everything about yourself. Changing to be something that you never were before. All because you were tired of the whispers in the hall and constant stares. They didn’t bring it up, scared you would lock yourself in your room all the time. So instead they bought you the new lip Hgloss everyone else started wearing. They bought you the new trendy school everyone was talking about. They let you cut your hair the way everyone else did, never voicing their concerns for your sudden want and need to change and be like everyone else. Now here you are about to attend your first year at Shiratorizawa Academy, looking and acting just like everyone else did. All because you were scared to be different.

Your parents had left after you had moved all of the stuff you needed into your dorms, wishing you good luck. You laughed as you told them you’d still see them on the weekends. You were up packing all of the things in your dresser and closet not wanting to claim a bed until your dorm mate got there. You went over to a box you didn’t remember packing it thinking your parents must’ve packed a box of things they thought you had missed. Upon opening it you realized it was some of your old things you had given your parents to throw out. You dug further and found a new manga you had never seen before and figured that your parents had bought it before you stopped reading it. You took it out of the box and opened it when a letter fell out.

“Y/n, we know you stopped reading these a while ago, but when we were at the bookstore last week we saw this new one that came out and thought you might like it. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to, but we know you never really wanted to stop reading them. So take this gift as a congratulations on getting into Shiratorizawa. Love, Mom and Dad.”

You sighed as you placed it back in the box. You set the box on the top shelf in the closet when you heard someone coming into your room. “Hey, you must be Rei. I’m Y/n, your dorm mate, obviously. I wouldn’t be in here if I wasn’t” You scolded yourself on your word jumble, falling into the old habit when you were nervous. 

You let out a sigh of relief as she smiled and set some of her stuff down before turning to say goodbye to her parents who were behind her. After they had left she turned to you smiling brightly, “Hello! Yes, I’m Rei, I hope we can be friends. Do you know what bunk you want? I’m partial to the bottom bunk but it doesn’t matter.” You said that that was fine and began making your bed. She handed you all of your things from the floor while you sat on top figuring everything out. As you set up your sleeping areas you both talked about things that she liked and you knew about. She talked about the latest episode of a popular show that was on and you commented on it. You didn’t care for the show but you knew other people did and watched highlights and read summaries enough to be able to talk about it like you did.

When you were done you left your room to go get something to eat. It was about two when you started but after talking for a while and finishing unpacking it was now seven. Rei had introduced you to some of her old friends from middle school and you all sat together to eat. While they talked about things they did over their break you looked around at all the new faces in the cafeteria. Everyone seemed to have people they all knew already and you were grateful that you hadn’t seen anyone from your old schools yet. No one knew you as the weird one who sat in the corner of the room by themselves reading manga, and you didn’t want them to.

As you looked around the room your eyes were drawn to a boy sitting by himself. He had bright red hair and was reading a book. You envied that he wasn’t scared to be himself. You were a coward and you knew it. Terrified of the judgemental looks people give you for being different. He didn’t seem to care as he happily read the book in his hand. You were too far away to read the book title and you forgot to put in your contacts so you definitely couldn’t read that far away. Suddenly the boy you had been observing looked up and straight at you. Great you had been caught now you do look like the weird kid. He didn’t seem to mind as he waved at you. You waved back and he went back to reading. 

About a half hour later your roommate had stood up and asked if you wanted to go back to your room. You agreed and stood up to follow after her. On your way out you passed by the boy you had made eye contact with earlier and looked at the book he was reading and saw it was the new manga your parents had bought you. You sighed as you passed him, you wished you had known him when you were a kid, before you decided to change. Maybe, just maybe you wouldn’t have reinvented yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t be scared to be who you really were. But you would never know.

You had a few days before the school year started so everyone could get to know the campus and where all their classes were. You and Rei had just gotten done looking around at your classes and figuring out where you had to go the first day. Sadly you weren’t in the same class with her or any of the new people you had met. So that meant you’d have to meet new people which you weren’t looking forward to. Later that night as Rei slept you climbed down the ladder of your bunk and got down the box to get the books you had abandoned. You grabbed the newest one your parents had bought you and threw it onto your bed before climbing back up. You turned on the lights you had hung up above your bunk and grabbed your glasses to read it. After a few hours you were half way done and decided that you would finish it later. You turned off the lights and put the book under your bed and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning you woke up to get breakfast with Rei. You passed by the redhead from a few days ago and it looked like he was rereading. You forgot how much you wanted to talk about manga after reading the plot twists and the shocking deaths. You forgot how much you desperately wanted a friend who shared your love over the various shonen jumps you read. A friend who you could sit down and watch anime with. A friend who you could just be you with and not someone you’re pretending to be. 

You almost stopped to sit with him to discuss the book but you couldn’t stop with Rei tugging on your wrist once she spotted her friends. You were disappointed but you were hopeful that you’d be able to speak to him soon. It’d be nice to be yourself again.

Soon the free time you guys had passed and it was time to start classes. You weaved your way through the halls to the classroom you remembered visiting with Rei when looking around the school. You were the first to arrive in the class and sat in the back corner near a window, falling into old habits. You were looking down at your phone swiping through apps to pass time when someone sat down in the seat in front of you.

“Hello! I’m Tendou Satori! Are you the person who I made eye contact with a few days ago in the cafeteria?” You looked around and realized that it was just you two in the room, he could’ve sat anywhere and instead chose the seat right in front of you. You nodded your head in response and looked back down at your phone. “Can I know your name?” 

You shut off your phone and put it away in your bag and looked up at him. You quickly scanned his face and noticed that he seemed quite happy and genuine. He was also pretty cute, you wouldn’t tell him that though. “It’s L/n F/n. But you can call me Y/n.” You watched as he lit up and smiled. You were glad you were in the same class, you had a feeling you would be great friends.

Over the course of the first year you and Tendou had become good friends. You had exchanged numbers and were talking every day. You’d eat lunch with him and the volleyball team. You’d study outside when he wasn’t at practice. You slowly stopped hanging out with Rei and her friends, you and Rei still talked in your dorm but you had come to an agreement that you guys didn’t have a lot in common. You had gradually stopped acting like someone you weren’t and become yourself again. Your parents had nearly cried tears of joy when you took some of your old stuff back to the dorms one weekend.

People weren’t as mean as middle school. They didn’t care what you liked or did, didn’t care what you looked like. You were glad you met Tendou otherwise you might’ve pretended to be something you weren’t your whole life. Now here you were reading manga with your best friend under a tree after school while he was trying to convince you to be the volleyball’s team manager. 

“Oh come on Y/n pleeeaaase.” He pleaded for the nth time today. You sighed and pushed up your glasses as you ignored him and continued to read. “He dramatically flopped over your legs and sighed loudly, “Why do you hate me.”

You scoffed in reply, “I don’t hate you Ten, stop being so dramatic.” You couldn’t hate him, in fact it was quite the opposite. You had a small crush on the boy but you would never tell him. He was your first real friend and you didn’t want to ruin that.

“Clearly you do, because you don’t want to come be the volleyball manager and see me everyday.” He sat up and childishly crossed his arms and looked away from you. You chuckled at his behavior and said that you would, you just don’t know anything about volleyball, or at least not enough to manage a team. He took the book and sat in down next to you so he could grab your hands, “I’ll teach you! Come on, please it’s easy! You’ll be great at it!” You thought about it for a minute before sighing and agreeing.

It was now your third year and you had just finished watching as Shiratorizawa faced Aoba Johsai during the Interhigh Tournament. As you were waiting for everyone to get back on the bus to head back to the academy. You sat in the back and thought about the best two years of your life so far. Unlike how you hoped your feelings for Tendou did not go away but instead grew. You still refused to tell him despite Rei telling you that he “1000% without a doubt in the universe” felt the same way. If he didn’t you’d be crushed, not only that but your friendship would most likely be ruined. You wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes after that. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the man himself when he sat down next to you and offered you the right earbud to his headphones and started playing the newest episode of Sword Art Online. You weren’t really paying attention too busy with your own thoughts on if you were going to tell him or not. Somewhere along the way you must’ve fallen asleep because you woke up to Tendou lightly tapping your cheek to wake you up. You groaned as you moved off of Tendou, your head resting on his shoulder. You stretched when you stood up and moved off of the bus. You gave your best friend a thumbs up when he asked if you were still going to hang out tomorrow and made your way back to your dorm.

You both decided to hangout in Tendou’s dorm since Ushijima was out for the day. You had been there for a few hours before you worked up the courage to sit up from your position on the floor and looked at Tendou. “What would you do if I said I liked you romantically?” 

You felt your heart shatter at the sound of his laughter. The sound that usually makes your heart flutter in your chest now feels like a million daggers piercing through all at once. He stopped laughing to look at you, “You’re kidding right?” You laughed and agreed to his statement. 

Of course he thought you were kidding, that’s exactly what just happened in the anime that had been playing. It didn’t make it hurt any less. You stood up and gathered your things and said you needed to work on some last minute homework you had forgotten about and left as you felt tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. As you shut the door to his dorm the tears had left your eyes and quickly made their way down your face. As you turned to leave you bumped into Ushijima and apologized as you quickly made your way back to your dorm with your head down.

Upon entering your dorm you dropped your bag and slid down your door putting your head on your knees allowing yourself to cry. You didn’t expect the rejection to hurt this much, but he had been your first crush and first friend to like you for who you were and you had just lost that. You felt arms wrap around you and you glanced up to see Rei hugging you looking down at you apologetically. You hugged her back as you continued to sob. After you had finally stopped crying you felt exhausted and laid down to go to bed even though it was only six o’clock in the afternoon. 

The next few weeks you had avoided Tendou. You switched seats in class, began eating with Rei again and didn’t interact with him during volleyball practice. While you were heartbroken you didn’t want to up and leave your manager duties. Of course Tendou noticed you were avoiding him, how couldn’t he. You would turn and walk in the opposite direction if he started walking towards you. You stopped sitting in your usual area after school instead opting to lie down in your dorm. He wanted to ask you about the day you had suddenly left. Ushijima had come into the dorm saying you were crying, he was concerned why you had left. He didn’t understand why, maybe a family member had passed away, but if that was the case why wouldn’t you just talk to him? Had you finally grown tired of him? He needed answers.

After nearly a month of ignoring him he had barged into your dorm when he knew your roommate was out. You had been sitting up on your bed when he came in, you looked down at him shocked. “Why the hell are you ignoring me?” He demanded to know with crossed arms as he looked up at you. You looked away and was about to deny the statement when he spoke again, “And don’t say you weren’t, we both know you clearly are. Did you get tired of me? Do you think I’m a monster too?” His voice was quiet as he asked the last question

You scrambled down the ladder as you went to protest, you didn’t think he was a monster, far from it in fact. “Of course I don’t think you’re a monster. What do you want me to say, Tendou? I told you I liked you and you laughed at my face, that tends to hurt a person. You can’t blame me for wanting to avoid you.” You looked away as you explained why you had been avoiding the redhead.

He looked at you in shock before conjuring up his thoughts, “You were serious?” You nodded as you sat on your roommates bed looking at the ground instead of at him. If he had come here to reject you twice then you were sure you were going to die of a broken heart. “I like you too!”

Upon hearing those words your head shot up, “Then why did you laugh at me?” You asked with a small voice. He may have just confessed but that didn’t make you any less wary or scared. 

He sighed as he sat next to you before starting his explanation. Apparently in middle school girls would ask him out as a joke and make fun of him. Your heart broke at those words and you hugged him, “No Tendou I’m 100% serious. I really like you.” 

He hugged you back and held you close, “I’m sorry for laughing at you, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I feel terrible that you cried because of me, I’m going to make it up to you I swear.” Maybe things would be okay after all.

[spencerspecifics]

What about a moried fluffy fic based on You Belong With Me by: Taylor Swift

You have no clue how much I absolutely love this song prompt thank u anon moreid is my shit here we go. (It is fluffy but it’s angsty in the beginning so yeah stay for the fluff thanks.) And I’m so sorry this took so long to get up! I took some time off from writing bc of lots of factors.

Lowkey TW?? Slight homophobia Bc Derek’s gf thinks he’s “too gay” even tho he’s just bi Also, song lyrics are in bold lettering. They’re going to be part the story here and there to help plot and whatnot so yeah!

———————————————————————

You Belong With Me

———————————————————————

Spencer had a problem. Namely a person problem. A Derek Morgan problem. Spencer didn’t hate Derek, quite the opposite, actually. Spencer was crushing hard on the man. And he couldn’t do anything. Spencer would rather lose his right hand then tell Derek how he felt about him, he couldn’t risk their friendship over his stupid little crush.

But just because he hid his feelings, ignored them through hell and high water- it didn’t mean they weren’t real, or weren’t there. They were both very real and apparent. Every time Derek called him ‘pretty boy’ or ‘genius’ or ‘handsome’, every time Derek wrapped his arm around him casually or did small things to showed him he cared, caused Spencer to blush and go speechless. Spencer was smart, but how to react to someone you’re infatuated with giving you attention, he’d never be able to solve that.

Time and time again, though, he found himself in situations where it was just him and Derek- and everything in his brain and body would scream at him to tell him how much he liked him, tell him how they should be together. It just made sense, after all.

Long paragraph short, here are the four times Spencer felt like they belonged together, and the one time Derek realized they do belong together.

~

“...You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset. She’s goin’ off about something that you said, ‘cause she doesn’t get your humor like I do...”

~

Spencer hung out with Derek a lot, it was just by default. He wasn’t a social individual, but he pack bonded with the team. Spencer saw everyone there as his friends, so yeah, he hung out with Derek. They would go do things together, grab lunch, get coffee, meet up to go shopping. Painfully mundane tasks that were so domestic it could cause spencer another migraine if he thought about it for long enough.

It was on one of these mundane days when problems slowly arose. They were in the mall, sat in the food court. Spencer was looking over a new book he had just bought, it was a thick book on physics, it would probably take him a day or two at most to read it, his tray of food in front of him was still mostly untouched.

Unlike Spencer, Derek was eating. Though it was greasy mall pizza, it was still food. Derek decided he’d run a few extra miles to work it off as some sort of consequence for his action.

They sat in silence, Spencer already flipping through pages quickly, mouthing the words he was reading over to himself; and Derek chewing silently as he watched the genius in front of him.

That was, until, Derek’s phone rang. Breaking the ambiance that had surrounded the two. Spencer didn’t look up, he was too invested in the book in front of him. Derek reacted, though, wiping his hands off on a napkin before grabbing his cell phone out of his back pocket. He looked over the caller ID, it was Melissa.

Melissa was his newest fling, Spencer had heard bits and pieces of Garcia and Derek’s conversation surrounding the topic, but he knew the bare minimum- deciding best to not involve himself with how his crushes romantic life was soaring- meanwhile his was crashing.

Spencer didn’t know it was Melissa though, not until Derek pulled the phone up to his ear and said; “Hey, Melissa!”

If anyone on their team was with them and watching Spencer, they would have noticed the way his eyes looked off the book for a moment, up at Derek, before immediately turning back down; to reread the same page he didn’t need to reread because he could just go back into his memory to figure out what the words on the paper meant to say. But he had to reread the page. The strongest memory in the whole universe couldn’t tell him what was on the page in front of him, he was distracted.

Melissa on the other line started speaking. Derek listened before responding; “Oh, not much, Y’know- just at the mall with the doc.”

Spencer kept himself staring down at the book in front of him, even though he could feel the blush rising up to his ears. It was stupid that made him blush like a schoolgirl. But he couldn’t help it. So instead, he hid in the pages about quantum mechanics. Something real, something not confusing. Something that was pure and basic and understanding.

“No-“ Derek chuckled, “No, pretty boy ain’t that type of doctor,” god, this was going to be the death of Spencer. Pretty boy always was something that made him melt. He couldn’t help it, god knows he tried. He did all the distraction techniques he could find. None of them really worked.

Spencer opted to hide in his book more, act like he wasn’t listening to Derek. Even though he was. He was always hooked on every last word the man spoke, it always mattered. This was just a hopeless effort, Spencer realized, as he sunk down in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

“Now, what on earth are you- hey, baby- beautiful, what are you-“ Derek started, sounding concerned.

Spencer couldn’t help it at this point, he looked up over the top of the book. Derek was looking at his phone in bewilderment. It was no longer up to his ear.

“...Everything okay?” Spencer asked curiously after a moment. Derek just sighed setting his phone down on the table next to his food tray. “I don’t even know, man. I called you pretty boy and that made Melissa flip- she was all like ‘who’s pretty boy? We discussed you being bisexual already, you better not be changing up on me’. Then she hung up.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Spencer replied, book still up between him and Morgan. “Yeah, I’m confused. It was a joke.” Derek explained to Reid, as if Spencer was ever owed an explanation regarding this.

“She must be insecure.” Spencer theorized plain and simple. Derek watched him curiously instead of asking anything to lead him on, “If she gets the idea that we’re a thing- just based on a nickname, then she’s gonna hate you and Garcia. You don’t need someone like that.”

Derek sighed, “You’re right. But I really thought she was great.” “Maybe she is,” Spencer shrugged, “I don’t know her. You do. All I’m saying is, she won’t like you and Garcia if she didn’t like my nickname.”

That elicited a chuckle from Derek, a sound Spencer always cherished in hearing. “Yeah, I can’t have someone hating my favorite boy wonder,” once again, Spencer could feel the blush coming onto his face. He was just hoping the lighting inside the mall food court didn’t make it all too obvious. “I’ll talk to her about it.” Derek decided. Spencer just nodded, not entirely wanting to talk right now.

“Yeah.. um, do what’s best.” Spencer agreed blandly. He wasn’t sure what else to say. And wasn’t this just laughable? Giving his crush dating advice? Spencer wasn’t stupid, but he was in this scenario.

“Yeah, I will. Anyways,” Derek continued the conversation casually, reaching out covering Spencer’s book with his hand. “What are you-“ Spencer started, confused. “Taking away your book. Eat before your food gets cold.” Derek spoke plainly, as if this was so obvious. He pulled Spencer’s book out of his grasp, setting it down next to himself; before pushing Spencer’s untouched tray of food in front of him.

“I’m not very-“ Spencer started, already trying to reach back for his book. Derek just shook his head, pulling the book closer to him. “Nuh-uh, not today. Not today. You’re eating. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.”

Spencer sunk down in his seat a little as he finally caved, agreeing and eating the mall food. Granted, it wasn’t great, but it was food, and he did need to eat. Last thing he had eaten that day was a granola bar for breakfast, and Derek knew that he forgot to eat.

He ate in silence as Derek watched him, before moving his gaze to casually watch the other mall patrons. It was so entirely stupid and domestic of them. It was nothing special, it wasn’t even that good of a memory. But for some reason, Spencer knew that was the first time he felt something new towards Derek. More new than just his crush. It was a new, overwhelming feeling of “I wouldn’t treat you that way” “I wouldn’t care if you called someone babygirl” “I would be better for you” before finally, his mind landed on, “you belong with someone who wouldn’t judge. Someone like me. You belong with me.”

That’s when Spencer knew he was fucked, more so than before.

~

“...I’m in the room, it’s a typical Tuesday night. I’m listening to the type of music she doesn’t like. And she’ll never know your story like I do...”

~

The second time was at Spencer’s apartment. He had complained about his bookshelf not being stable enough to hold all his books, and Derek had practically invited himself over; “C’mon, Reid. It’ll be good. Get some quality time without the ladies, we can order Chinese, plus I can show you how to fix your shelf so you don’t have to ask for help next time.”

So yeah, now they had gone directly from work to Spencer’s apartment- the only pit stop being to Derek’s house to pick up his toolbox, as Spencer didn’t have one.

Spencer wished he wasn’t such a pushover, because damnit, now he was gonna be in his apartment with Derek. That didn’t seem like a problem to anyone else, obviously- because they weren’t crushing hard on the guy. So Spencer just had to stand there and hide how much he liked Derek, and how at home Derek made his apartment feel- because it felt better with him there. He belonged there.

Spencer ignored his thoughts as they got into his apartment, he led Derek over to the problematic bookshelf in question. Some of the books had toppled off the shelves, and were on the ground below. “Damn, Reid, you don’t mess around with all these books.” Derek joked lightly as he looked over the immense amount of books Spencer had shoved onto the shelf; Derek squatted down, lowering the tool kit next to him as he started taking books off the shelves one by one so he could further inspect what was wrong with it.

Spencer protested, not understanding Derek was joking, “It’s not my fault- the bookshelf is supposed to hold books, if it can’t do what’s promised then that’s on the manufacturers error.”

Derek just chuckled slowly in response before replying, still pulling books off the shelves “Don’t worry, pretty boy, we’ll get this sorted out for you, alright? Just get some music on so we got something to hang to.” Derek wasn’t looking at Spencer, thank god- or he’d see how the genius got so flustered so quickly, how quickly a blush spread across his face, and how he immediately looked away from him, to the walls, the floor. To look at anything but Derek.

“Yes- right. Music.” Spencer changed his focus, he couldn’t think about how good it felt to be called a pet name by Derek. He couldn’t let himself think about it, or else he’d never stop. So he busied himself with getting some music to play through the quiet apartment, he turned over to his old radio that was sat on his study desk, it was a loud radio, that’s why he got it. It was compact, but if he put it in the bathroom he could hear it from the kitchen. It was the perfect device for him.

Spencer turned the radio on, the channel he always listened to was already tuned in, so he left it that way. Soft instrumental music started flowing out of the speakers, Derek stopped his motion of putting books down to turn and look at Spencer semi-curiously; “What’s this music?” “Classical.” Spencer replied easily, looking down at the radio as he messed with the volume dial that always seemed to be loose. “It’s on 88.1, they play strictly instrumental and classical pieces. It’s nice.”

Derek didn’t respond, Spencer didn’t need him to respond. It was an inconsequential conversation about music. If Derek didn’t like the station, he was more than welcome to change it to another. But he didn’t, it was Spencer’s apartment, and the soft classical music playing just seemed fitting to play there. Plus Derek just wanted the music as a background sound to help him focus, it wasn’t really important what it was- just that there was music playing.

Spencer went off to the kitchen to find the menu he had saved from the local Chinese restaurant that does deliveries, meanwhile Derek continued pulling books off the shelves. Melissa would hate him for being here, ever since the call at the mall, she was convinced Derek was going to leave her for him- or for another guy. She thought he was “too gay” to stay with her, obviously that’s not how him or his bisexuality works. But Melissa didn’t see it that way.

God, everything Derek saw, Melissa saw differently, it was ironic he was even with her. He saw Penelope Garcia as his best female friend, his babygirl. Melissa saw her as a threat, they had a whole argument about it. Melissa had finally stopped seeing Garcia as a threat when he told her that Garcia was wrapped up in Kevin drama. He wanted to tell Garcia about all of this, but he knew that if he did she would immediately tell him to dump her. Anyone that came between their friendship wasn’t allowed, and that wasn’t a rule Garcia had made up, it was more of an understanding they had come to about their dynamic as friends.

Derek just hadn’t dumped her yet out of fear. This was his first significant other in so long, it felt like a failure to start something and end it. He wanted to fix it. Though he knew it was unlikely he could, he still wanted to try.

Derek kept thinking as he finished pulling the books off until there were none left, he then pulled on the board of the shelf to see how unstable it was, all while continuing to think. He thought about Melissa, but none of it was really positive. It was all what she would hate about him being here, other than the obvious of being with Spencer (which she already disliked. She hated the genius and she hadn’t ever spoken to him, which Derek didn’t think was rational at all.) She would hate how Spencer’s apartment was, the green walls and shelves of books, the lack of a television, the soft glow from the lamps. Derek found every single last one of these qualities endearing, it helped show who Spencer was as a whole. Melissa would see it as a problem.

She’d say green was a gross color, that Spencer needed to be aware of pop culture and get a television, she’d say that Spencer didn’t get out enough and he lived like a hermit; she’d say the lighting was weird and dark, instead of soft and calming.

Derek let out a sigh, deciding to abandon his thoughts as a whole, because they were just starting to irritate him. Spencer was great the way he was, Melissa was being problematic; and him and her really needed couples counseling or something. That was the decision he landed on as he gave his full attention to the wiggly boards in Spencer’s bookshelf.

Derek pulled on the shelf again to test it’s strength. It was loose, pretty close to just falling down altogether. It was good he was here to fix it, Derek concluded, as he reached for the screwdriver in his toolkit.

~

The night continued on, Derek went through part by part, working on fixing Spencer’s bookshelf; meanwhile Spencer had ordered them dinner from the local Chinese place. Reid had thought about setting up the dinner at his kitchen table, before immediately regretting that idea. This was casual, it wasn’t some type of sit down dinner with Derek. That’s the last thing he needed, Spencer decided, as he walked over to Derek and handed him the carton of beef broccoli and a pair of chopsticks to go with.

Derek took them and put them down next to himself quickly, before pivoting into a sitting position on the floor and turning himself away from the bookshelf, facing exactly to the dinner table- which is where Spencer had opted to sit at, alone.

“What’re you doing all the way over there?” Derek’s spoke out to him. Spencer tried to be casual, “All my stuff’s over here, and it’s not that far from you,” he shrugged, hoping Derek wouldn’t go any deeper. But of course, he did. “And I’m over here, so bring your stuff my way- you’re gonna make your repairman eat sitting on the floor alone? That’s cold, man.”

Spencer rolled his eyes as he picked up his carton of orange chicken and rice, “Okay, I’m here.” He tried to sound like he was annoyed, instead of stupidly simultaneously happy and unhappy with derek’s request (happy because his stupid crush on Derek, unhappy because of the same, unfortunate reason).

He made his way over to Morgan, sitting down across from him and using the back of his couch as a makeshift chair prop to lean against. He opened up his food, as Derek was now satisfied with this series of events and had gone back to paying attention to his beef broccoli. Spencer picked up his fork, ready to eat and just ignore how he was feeling, when Derek spoke up again; “Seriously- you still don’t know how to use chopsticks?”

Suddenly, Spencer was giving Derek a glare that had no malice, while Derek just chuckled at Spencer’s fury. “I’m tellin’ you. You need to learn how to use chopsticks.” “It’s fine.” Spencer argued weakly, “No way, if suddenly all the forks, knives, and spoons vanished, you’d have to eat with chopsticks.”

“Not true if sporks are still a thing.” Spencer pointed out, “I’m gonna smack you.” Derek replied, now it was Spencer’s turn to laugh.

~

“...But she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts, she’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers. Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find. That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time...”

~

The third time was when Spencer had resigned, accepting his feelings for what they were. He was now simply playing the waiting game, of waiting his crush out- because god knows he can’t go on like this forever. He hated how things have changed from a small crush into a serious never ending stream of thoughts he had whenever he was with Derek, but that’s how it was for him now.

He had ways to keep himself in check, though. As he always did. One was re-reading long old stories to himself from memory. It usually worked pretty well, and it was a good way to just pass the time in general.

Except for one, especially horrid time, when the FBI baseball team had a game against the CIA’s.

Spencer wasn’t playing, thank god for that. He wasn’t good at sports, though that one time he played baseball with Derek earlier in the season was a great memory he loved to go back to and remember. But that was a fluke, and he knew if he played again it wouldn’t go nearly as well.

Since he wasn’t playing, him and the rest of the team had come along to bring Morgan moral support from the sidelines of the bleachers. What Spencer hadn’t expected was Melissa showing up, too.

~

She showed up at the same time the team did to the field, they set up on the bleachers with some blankets and a basket full of snacks (courtesy of one Penelope Garcia.) and then she was suddenly walking over, surprising the team.

“Hi- um, are you Garcia? Is this the area for the BAU?” She asked, she had shoulder length brown hair, hazel eyes, and was wearing a flowy pink and yellow sundress. She was pretty, borderline beautiful, there was no denying that.

Spencer decided to start re-reading the books in his head by that point. He could already guess it was Melissa, as Rossi wouldn’t have invited a woman to this event until at least the ninth or eighth date (though with Rossi, Spencer never really knew how he operated in terms of dating, and he had no desire to know). Spencer also knew she wasn’t Hotch’s, as Hotch was too focused on Jack and the team to even consider dating.

Emily was single, and definitely would not invite a guy (or girl) to this either. J.J. was happy with Will, and Penelope had the on and off thing with Kevin. So yeah, Spencer deduced easily that this beautiful mysterious woman was Melissa.

The fact Derek invited Melissa rubbed Spencer the wrong way. But it wasn’t his business, he reminded himself, as he did his best to start focusing in on pride and prejudice in his mind.

Garcia began welcoming Melissa, even though it wasn’t necessary; “It is! And I am! Hi! Are you Melissa? Derek told me you were coming!”

Spencer did his best to not focus on Melissa, skipping forward a few chapters into pride of prejudice in his mind, to keep himself focused. He got pulled from his book though, as Melissa introduced herself and Garcia started introducing the team back;

“Well, grandpa over there is David Rossi,” “Easy, or else you won’t get those extra vacation days I offered you.” Rossi replied simply as hell, reaching for a bag of chips from the basket. “Fine- that esteemed gentleman right there is David Rossi.” “Better.” Rossi responded, a small grin showing across his face. Melissa laughed softly with Garcia and Rossi for a moment before Penelope continued on;

“That’s Aaron Hotchner, and his son Jack.” Garcia pointed them out, Jack was playing on his Nintendo DS, only looking up to wave briefly as Hotch reached over to shake Melissa’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” “You too.” She smiled at him.

“Those two lovely ladies are Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss, plus Jennifer’s hubby Will and their adorable son Henry,” they all shook hands with Melissa, and J.J. briefly told her that it wasn’t necessary to call her “Jennifer” but instead “J.J.” as that was the name she was most used to.

“Then, we got Doctor beautiful brain, Spencer Reid.” Spencer looked up, giving Melissa a small wave, finally looking her head on. He had seen her, sure, but he hadn’t made eye contact with her until right now. And damn, she looked wild behind the eyes. And not in a good way. She was perky, seemingly almost as positive as Penelope. But that positivity didn’t reach her eyes. She looked Spencer up and down, and there was something deep in her gaze that made him want to get up and walk to the CIA side of the bleachers. It was clear he was going to have to walk on eggshells around her, and he wished he knew why.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Spencer offered up as a greeting, “You too,” Melissa replied, smiling as she turned on her polite charm again. It was only in her eyes he could see her distaste towards him. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

~

Melissa settled down, sitting next to the rest of the team as they waited for the game to start. She was thankfully seated near Emily, J.J., and Garcia. So Spencer and her’s conversation was limited.

That was until, he was brought up in conversation; “Oh geez- one of the funniest things was when Spence and Morgan got stuck in that elevator together,” J.J. recounted, causing all four of them to laugh; meanwhile Spencer didn’t react. He was still deep in his mind reading, and though he heard his name called, it didn’t cause him to want to stop.

“Yeah- I heard about that from Derek, he said Spencer spouted off some fact about people and elevator deaths because he was scared.” Melissa turned to Spencer as she spoke, giving him an in to speak. Spencer didn’t realize she had even turned to him, as he was fully focusing his brain power on the pages of the book he had read over before.

“Uh.. what’s he doing?” Melissa asked in a hushed voice to J.J., “Oh- he’s just reading. Spencer, hey.” J.J. said, leaning over and tapping his shoulder, finally catching his attention; causing him to open his eyes.

“Sorry- what?” Spencer finally spoke, as he was fully there and listening to them now, instead of somewhat ignoring them and focusing on a memory of a book.

“..J.J. said you were reading?” Melissa asked curiously, obviously confused. Spencer nodded, “Yes. I was. I have an eidetic memory so I can look back at anything I’ve ever read. So sometimes I go back and read books I’ve read before.” Spencer explained awkwardly, “I do it to, uh, pass the time.”

“Hm.. that’s.. that’s cool. Derek mentioned you were smart, recounting lots of facts.” Melissa said slowly, it seemed like she was trying to gain some sort of edge in the conversation, but thankfully Emily butted in casually- not realizing the odd atmosphere that was slowly building.

“Oh yeah- Reid’s always doing that. Talk to him on Halloween and all he talks about is how paganism played a major role in the now very American, very non-pagan holiday.” The girls laughed on innocently as Melissa gained a serious look in her eye again.

“You know everything?” She asked him, “No.” he replied, he was self assured in this field, he knew how to handle himself when people were doubting his intelligence level. “I just know a lot.” He clarified.

Melissa looked like she was ready to speak, say something to him- he had no clue if it would be good or bad. But everyone’s attention got redirected on the whooping sounds both teams made as they entered the field. The game was starting.

~

Spencer had stayed focused on the game, even running statistics and probabilities in his head on who would come out victorious. Rossi made a joke they should bet on the game like people do on horses, and he’d just cheat and use Reid to make sure he won.

The rest of the team didn’t go for that, as they would employ the same strategy as Rossi, and Spencer was smart enough to give them all the wrong answers so he would actually win.

It was now the third inning, J.J. had gone with Hotchner and Will to take a short walk with the kids, as they were getting bored in their seats. Rossi went off to flirt it up with the older woman who was running the concessions stand, and Emily and Garcia had gone off to the bathroom together.

Now it was just Melissa and Reid alone, and Reid didn’t like her company. He didn’t mean it in a rude way, but also maybe he did- for his very stupid and very personal reason that she was actively dating his crush. But besides that reason, she seemed off, and on a team of behavioral analysts, he couldn’t be the only one who noticed.

There was something wrong with her, but Spencer couldn’t place his finger on what. That was, until, she sat down next to him on the bleachers. “So,” she started casually, “what’re you reading up there?” “Pride and Prejudice.. have you read it?” Spencer replied, doing his best to make polite conversation.

Melissa shook her head, “No, way too long of a book for me.” Spencer just nodded, an “Ah” sound escaping his lips before their conversation entirely diminished as they sat in silence, watching the CIA’s team line up for batting.

Derek was on second base, and while he waited for the CIA team to finish lining up, he turned to the only two people still on the bleachers and waved. Melissa waved in response excitedly, “Go Derek!” She shouted for good measure, Reid on the other hand just gave a small wave to him.

Their personalities were very different, Spencer gathered.

“Derek helped you with a bookshelf the other week, right?” Melissa asked after silence had settled over them, and Reid had almost returned to his brain book. Her question stopped him from reading, though.

Spencer nodded, “Uh, yeah. He helped fix my bookshelf, the boards were all wobbly and books couldn’t stay on.” Melissa hummed in response for a moment, before looking back out to the field. Derek was now busy talking to a teammate, a guy Spencer recognized from the terrorist division.

“Look, Spencer,” Melissa finally spoke again, letting out a sigh before she continued on; “We both know Derek is an attractive man, a great man. But he’s my man. I don’t need you confusing him and making him switch sides- believe me, I want to think that you two are just the best of friends and that’s it. But I don’t believe it, not for a second, especially not after hearing how he talks about you, and finally meeting you.”

Spencer stayed quiet, not looking at Melissa, instead opting to stare at his hands, that were now firmly clasped together as he took in what she was saying. “We are just friends, though..” Spencer finally spoke up in a weak defense for himself. Melissa just chuckled, their pleasant conversation had somehow turned to her speaking to him in a sickly sweet malicious tone.

“I don’t think you are. I think there’s something more, and I don’t want things to go any further- with either of you.”

Spencer stayed quiet again, seriously considering exiting the bleachers and getting a cab (as the team had carpooled over to this event together.) and just leaving, going back to his apartment and faking the stomach flu for a day and a half. It seemed so appealing to just disappear right now.

Melissa continued on after she realized Spencer wasn’t going to say anything. “I’m not trying to be the bad guy here, Spencer. You seem very kind, and smart. You told me earlier you don’t know everything, but you know a lot,”

Spencer nodded, that was true, he had said that, she kept going; “I hope you now know where your place is. Away from Derek. And I hope you know you aren’t alone with me talking to you, I would be telling Penelope Garcia the same exact thing, except she has a boyfriend, Kevin. Derek told me. So you’re the only single one who poses a problem. I hope we can be friends- but you need to back up.”

And that was all, she got up and moved away, and just in time as Emily and Garcia made their reappearance from the bathroom and onto the bleachers.

Spencer stayed frozen, however. Not really sure what he could say or do. All he knew now is that he had a very good reason to dislike Melissa. And he did, as much as he hated to admit it. He disliked Melissa, he wanted her gone. He didn’t want her and Derek together.

He was now only more sure that he would treat Derek better, he wouldn’t go around threatening his friends- he couldn’t even imagine that as something he would ever want to do.

Spencer stayed, shrunken on the bleachers as he watched the team play, staying quiet and reserved while Melissa and the rest of the team cheered.

Spencer just hoped Derek figured out that Melissa wasn’t good for him sooner than later, or else he’d never get out of the relationship scratch-free.

~

“Walkin’ the streets with you and your worn out jeans. I can’t help thinking this is how it ought to be. Laughin’ on the park bench thinking to myself, ‘hey isn’t this easy?’. And you got a smile that could light up this whole town. I haven’t seen it in a while since she brought you down. You say you’re fine I know you better than that. Hey, whatcha doing with a girl like that?”

~

Since Spencer’s unfortunate encounter with Melissa, he had done his best to steer clear of Derek. Only being with him when necessary (and they were only really together for work, though for the few latest times that Derek’s invited him out to get food or see a movie, Spencer’s declined).

Derek had subtly caught notice, wondering why Reid had been declining his invitations. At first he thought it was because Reid was busy, he was somehow also getting a bachelors degree in philosophy at the moment, it made since if he had limited free time.

But then he did more thinking, and even if reid was busy- he always made time for Derek. Morgan knew that for a fact, because every time he needed help (work related or not) Spencer was there, and ready to assist. Even if Reid was studying, the kid read so fast he only needed to read something once to remember everything. So it didn’t make sense. Not at all. Spencer was avoiding him.

So why? Derek now had to get alone with Reid, he needed to see what this was about.

~

And Derek got his chance, after solving a case in the sleepy city within Maine, called Rangeley. The teams plane was having a malfunction issue with a part of the engine, so they were stuck there for an extra day. Unfortunate for everyone else, but a blessing in disguise for Derek. It was the perfect time for the team to hang together, maybe get some meals or see a movie. But Derek set up a plan.

~

Morgan knocked on Spencer’s door the morning they had nothing to do, with his plan already getting set in motion. This was step one, of many.

Reid responded in his own special fashion, opening the door a crack to look out at Derek and into the hall, his hair looked messy, he was still slightly bleary eyed- and he was still in his pajamas and mismatched socks. He had just woken up.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Derek asked, he didn’t want to start this morning off on Reid being rudely awoken. Reid nodded as he opened the door more, stepping forward the slightest bit. “Yeah, but it’s okay. What’s going on?” Reid was already aware of the plane situation, the whole team had been told last night, which forced Derek into making this last minute plan.

“Nothing- the team doesn’t have anything to do. Wanna go get breakfast?” Derek asked, trying to phrase his words and himself casually. He didn’t want Reid to get suspicious and back out. He just wanted answers from his best friend, that’s all.

Spencer rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before responding. “Okay, yeah. Let me go get changed.”

~

They arrived at an Ihop. It wasn’t anything special, but it was the nearest breakfast place to the hotel, so it worked for them. They were greeted by a hostess who showed them to a booth.

Spencer didn’t know why he agreed this this, he shouldn’t have. But in his half-awake and still somehow sleep deprived mind, breakfast seemed like a good idea. A great idea, in fact. But he now was anxious again. He didn’t want to deal with Melissa, call him scared, nonconfrontational, weak- whatever. He just didn’t want to have to deal with her. He enjoyed hanging out with Derek, but he knew if he did then it would be inevitable that he would end up facing her wrath again.

Almost immediately after the hostess showed them to their booth, their waiter appeared to take their orders. “Goodmorning, what can I get started for you two?” The older gentleman, whose name tag simply read “John” asked them.

“Just some coffee, please.” Derek ordered for the both of them. He knew what Spencer would want to order, and he also knew how bad Spencer was at conversing with people he wasn’t familiar enough with. John just nodded, saying a quick; “Comin’ right up!” Before walking off to leave them alone.

“Is the rest of the team coming?” Spencer asked as he stifled a yawn with his hand. Derek shook his head, “No, they all wanted to sleep in. Lucky I dragged you out of bed, though.” He joked, hoping to lighten the mood in the room. Spencer just smiled sheepishly for a moment before looking back down at the table.

They stayed quiet, which wasn’t unusual for the two, especially considering they were both still tired. But Derek didn’t want there to be silence, he wanted to talk about what was going on. “Reid-“ he started, but before he could continue his sentence, John was standing by the table with a pot of coffee. Derek and Spencer both wordlessly pushed their mugs over towards John, watching him fill them up with coffee in silence.

John finished pouring and stepped back, “I’ll give you folks some more time before ordering.” Derek just nodded at him, “That would be great, thank you.” And with that, their waiter was gone.

Reid was now focused on his mug of coffee, grabbing some sugar packets from the container on the table and ripping one open after another, before finally pouring it into his coffee. “How many sugars you plan on putting in there?” “Two.” “You’re already ripping open a third packet, Reid.”

“Oh.” Was all he said in response, Derek sighed, Spencer wasn’t acting right; he hadn’t for a while but this morning was peak Reid-being-weird, so Derek needed to take a stronger approach; “Reid. What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing’s wrong.” Spencer said all too quickly to be believable. Derek rolled his eyes, watching the tired genius grab a spoon and stir his coffee with an intensity he never normally used. “That doesn’t work on me, man. We’re all profilers. I know when something’s up.” Spencer stayed quiet, still stirring his coffee with the spoon.

Reid didn’t want to be in this situation. He knew he should’ve hidden himself better, said and acted in different ways. Derek knew something was up, and Spencer couldn’t hide it forever. Especially not from him. He hated lying to Morgan.

“So..” Spencer spoke quietly, “What do you think is up?” Derek rolled his eyes at Spencer again, “Don’t talk to me like an unsub trying to stall. Somethings wrong. Did I do something- was it something I did or said?” Spencer put his spoon down as he watched Derek.

“I gotta be honest, Reid. I don’t know what’s going on here. We used to hangout so much, and suddenly you’re giving me the cold shoulder. I thought it was because of your studies- but you’ve done written whole thesesis while we’ve hungout. So it’s not you being busy with school. You make time. Why isn’t there any time now?” Derek kept going, voice raising in intensity as he got to the end.

Spencer wanted to say something, he wanted to say something so bad. But he didn’t know what. So instead he took a sip of his not-sweet-enough coffee. Derek watched him as he did so, intensity not wavering.

Spencer put the mug back down onto the table before he finally found his words, “It’s not you. You didn’t do anything.” “So what is it?” Morgan asked him almost instantly. Spencer sighed, he didn’t want to say it was Melissa. He couldn’t, he didn’t want to make Derek feel bad, he thought Derek was happy with her. He didn’t want to ruin that, even if Melissa was terrible. Derek was seemingly glad, and Spencer didn’t want him changing from positive to anything else (except somehow maybe more positive.)

“It’s nothing.” “It’s definitely not nothing, Reid. Please tell me.” Derek pried more. He couldn’t let this go. Spencer sighed, a weak sign of defeat. “Okay- but. I’m sorry. This involves Melissa.” He admitted, looking up to see Derek had a confused expression on his face. “What about her?” “When we went to the baseball game a few weeks ago and met her. She was really pleasant at first, but as soon as we were alone on the bleachers together she told me that I needed to stop being so close with you. And it really freaked me out, she saw me as a threat.”

Derek leaned back in the booth bench, unsure of what to do. “What did she say?” Derek finally asked after a moment, deciding he wanted to know what Melissa said to Spencer in full to make him act like this. Spencer didn’t deserve to be treated this way, he just didn’t. “I’m not going to-“ Spencer started, Derek just cut him off, “Yes you will. I know you remember what she said. So tell me. Please.”

Spencer fidgeted with the handle of the mug, “Okay, okay.. she said that you were her man and then she said, ‘I don’t need you confusing him and making him switch sides’...” Spencer spoke once more after that, before he could forget, “She also, um.. she said she would tell Garcia the same thing, except she didn’t because she knew she was with kevin.”

Derek stayed quiet, looking at Spencer before looking back down at his mug of coffee. Spencer stayed quiet, he didn’t know what he could say or do right now to make this better.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer finally decided to speak after it had been silent for a few minutes. “I didn’t want to tell you because you-“

Derek held his hand up as a simple gesture, indicating Spencer should be quiet. Spencer hushed up quickly, watching Morgan, who was sitting silently still, staring down with an intensity that could burn stronger than the sun. He stood up after a moment, pulling out his wallet and putting two twenty dollar bills down on the table, in front of Spencer. “For the coffee. Get some breakfast, too. I need to go.” “Derek, I-“ Spencer started, standing up, he wasn’t gonna leave Derek alone, especially to process this large amount of information. but he had started walking away, back turned to reid- leaving him alone at the booth. He wasn’t going to come back, and as much as Spencer wanted to follow him and never leave his side- he could tell he should leave him alone, at least for now.

~

After that whole experience, Spencer didn’t stay to get breakfast. He finished his coffee, paid, and left quickly. Deciding Derek needed space, and he wasn’t sure what else he could do, so he tucked tail back to the hotel. He lied to himself, saying maybe he could nap or watch T.V and ignore his imploding thoughts.

He couldn’t ignore his imploding thoughts, if that wasn’t painstakingly obvious. Spencer’s mind reeled from every aspect of their breakfast, to how he was curt and almost rude to Derek- he now wished he hadn’t been, but how else could he have acted? He didn’t know. He hated how things had went. He should’ve lied and told Derek he didn’t have the time for breakfast.

So, when Spencer finally got the hotel, he sat and thought and waited, waited for any sounds outside of his hotel door. Derek’s room was directly across the hall from his. So he waited for the sounds of the door opening, the beeping of the keycard, the sound of footsteps that were muffled by the soft carpet. Anything that would show Derek was back, back close to him, close enough to him for a conversation again. Because he knew that they needed to talk.

~

Spencer was counting. One hour and eighteen minutes passed before he heard any sounds of life that would match what he was waiting for. Namely, he heard the footsteps approach by his door, and then the beep of the keycard. And finally, the door opening and shutting quickly. Derek was there, he was back, Spencer got off his perch on the bed in record speed, exiting out to the hall and crossing quickly.

He was about to knock on the door, hand raised in the air, before he slowed himself down. Was this too much? What if Morgan didn’t want to talk to right now? What if Derek thought he was lying and was mad? Oh god, that terrified Spencer. He hoped Derek knew he wasn’t lying, he could run any behavior test he wanted to, but he wouldn’t lie to Derek. Not now, not ever.

Spencer still had his hand raised in the air, standing directly in front of the door. If Derek thought he was lying, he would prove he wasn’t. Nothing mattered right now, Spencer decided as he took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Spencer heard movement from inside the room, before Derek opened the door. He looked stressed, the lines in his face were hard set, this was how he looked when he dealt with an unsub. This isn’t how he should be looking on a day off. Derek said nothing as he looked at Spencer, “Can we talk?” Spencer asked him after it was clear Derek wasn’t going to start talking.

Derek nodded. Wordlessly opening the door more, and stepping back to allow Reid inside. He stepped in, Derek’s room was a mirror copy of Spencer’s, simple and small. He had his duffel sat on the floor by the small twin bed provided by the hotel.

Reid stood in the room, Derek moved past him to sit down on the edge of the bed as Spencer messed with some loose thread on his jacket, “I, um... I got your change..” Spencer started, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the wad of cash and coins. He wasn’t sure what to say now that he was inside Derek’s room. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, so he wasn’t sure how to prepare. Derek wasn’t acting like himself, so he didn’t know what would work.

Spencer went to hand it back to him, “Reid, no.” Derek started, causing Spencer to stop in his tracks, holding the money in silence.

“You didn’t come here for that.” Derek motioned to the money with his hand. “No. I didn’t.” Spencer mumbled awkwardly, shoving it back into his jacket pocket, the coins clinking together all too loudly for his liking.

“I’m sorry.” Derek sighed after a moment, “I shouldn’t have ran off like that. It’s just- I couldn’t believe what you were saying.” Spencer nodded, he wanted to say so much to Derek. He wanted to say, “I swear on my mother I am not lying”, he wanted to say “I’m sorry, I should have stayed quiet” he wanted to say “I care about you so much and I don’t want to see you walk away, I don’t want to lose you”. But Spencer couldn’t talk, he wasn’t sure what would come out if he spoke.

“I, uh, I called Melissa.” Derek told him, “After I left. I called her, I asked her if she said that to you, and she said she didn’t say it like that,” He took a breath before continuing on, “I asked her what she meant, because she wasn’t denying what she said. She just was saying the wording was off.”

Spencer found his small, awkward voice, deciding to look down at the floor instead of Derek. He was scared of what he would see. “What did she say the wording was?” He asked Derek, “She said she was harsher than that, told you to back off. Then she tried to explain herself, as if any of what she did was acceptable and could be fine under the disguise of caring for your significant other.”

“Reid, look at me. Please.” Derek sighed, not continuing whatever else he was going to say. Spencer finally looked up to meet his eyes. Derek just looked tired, leaning awkwardly on the couch, as he kept his gaze on Spencer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause this.” Spencer apologized, he had no clue if he needed to. But it felt like what he had to do.

“No, don’t.” Derek shook his head, as if to knock the apology out of his brain. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you. The red flags were there, Reid. And there were so many. I was just ignoring them.”

Spencer stayed quiet, watching Derek as he admitted this out loud; “I just- I wanted to make it work. But the fact she said that to you, and was gonna tell garcia, I just-“ Derek shook his head again, a mixture of defeat and anger simultaneously now instead of a signal for reid to stop.

“It upset me. I couldn’t believe it. So I called her and that happened and... and...” Derek trailed off, sighing simply as if that was the end of the sentence.

“...You broke up?” Spencer asked carefully, not wanting to misjudge. Derek nodded, rubbing his face with both hands. He was stressed. Spencer could tell.

“We did. It’s for the best. I can’t be dating someone who is like that. Especially not to you, or Garcia. That’s the biggest deal breaker out there.” Derek spoke, he was still serious but he was also sort of joking in a way to help calm the atmosphere down.

Spencer didn’t respond right away, instead moving to sit down on the edge of the bed, a few feet away from Morgan to give him plenty space. Derek didn’t like that, pulling on Spencer’s hand and motioning him to sit directly by his side.

Spencer complied, but cursed his face for causing a blush to form. This wasn’t the time to savor the feeling of Derek’s strong grip on his hand. It wasn’t.

Spencer was now sat down next to Derek, he wasn’t sure what else to say, so he stayed quiet. But he knew he didn’t want to leave Derek’s side now. He needed to be here. It couldn’t be easy for Derek.

“I’m sorry I left you at the restaurant.” Derek spoke after a while of them sitting side by side. “It’s okay,” Spencer told him, Derek gave him a sideways glance that proved he didn’t believe what he was saying.

“I didn’t end up having breakfast, though. I was worried.” Spencer admitted. Derek let out a low chuckle, and god, Spencer loved that sound. When was the last time he heard it? It used to be as common as hearing traffic in downtown Quantico, but as of lately; he hadn’t heard it often. Spencer knew in the back of his head, it was probably Melissa. Small things had changed with Derek during their time of dating.

First, it was calling Spencer “pretty boy”, and Garcia “baby girl”. Derek stopped saying it, and as much as garcia was worried about him, Derek had assured her he was okay. (Spencer didn’t mind the nickname stopping, as he finally didn’t have to come up with an excuse every time he blushed in front of the team when Derek would call him that.)

But then, Derek showed up to work looking tired, and sure- the job took long hours and restless nights and way too many coffee breaks. But he looked like he was losing that energy in his eyes. The excitement that made him join the team. He had told Spencer it was originally he missed Melissa. But now, Spencer was second guessing that.

Things had slowly changed with Derek, so small that Spencer didn’t even notice fully. But if you looked at all the reasons why he changed, it could be tied back to Melissa.

Good riddance. Spencer thought to himself. In ordinary situations, he would hate to think that, but today he didn’t; as he heard Derek’s soft, low chuckle. He didn’t want to ever stop see Derek being himself. He wouldn’t stop him from anything, he knew he wouldn’t. All he would want to do is care about him, kiss him, fall asleep in his arms, have a nice dinner with him- things a real boyfriend would do.

He would let Derek be himself, he wouldn’t stop him from working, he wouldn’t want to fight, he wouldn’t want to play games, and god knows he wouldn’t stop Derek and Garcia flirting. That’s what kept them happy, together, and secure.

“I’m sorry you guys broke up, but if it’s any consolation. You belong with someone better.” Spencer admitted, not adding on the last part he always wanted to say. If he could say it, lord knows he would. But he couldn’t tell Derek they belonged together. He sounded insane.

Derek softy bumped shoulders with him in an act of thanks, “Thank you. Now c’mon, let’s go get you some real breakfast, pretty boy.” He said as he stood up, the blush immediately rushed back into Spencer’s face. God, that name would be the death of him. He was seriously going to die like this.

“You still got my change? ‘Cause you’re paying.” Derek joked with him as he turned to pull on his coat, “It’s your money, why don’t I give it back to you?” Spencer asked him, the conversation now changing to a much lighter tone. Derek shrugged, “You paying a cashier will help your people skills. Now c’mon, I saw a good restaurant with outdoor seating that’s by a garden. You can give me plant facts while we eat.”

~

“...Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night. I’m the one who makes you laugh when you know you’re ‘bout to cry. And I know your favorite songs and you tell me ‘bout your dreams. Think I know where you belong, think I know it’s with me...”

~

Derek’s growing love for Spencer Reid was so slow he didn’t realize it until it was bursting out of his chest. It wasn’t obvious, it wasn’t, at least not to Derek. But suddenly it was everything Spencer did, it had his attention and captivated his thoughts. If Spencer was rambling about something, Derek would listen. Even if he didn’t care, even if he was tired, or hungry, or even mad.

To put it simply, it was every single thing that Spencer had ever done for him, suddenly making Derek feel something. It was every little funny thing Spencer did, it was every factoid he spat out to the team at the round table, it was how he was there for everyone in less than a second if needed, it was how Spencer complained about modern television, it was how Spencer grumbled in his sleep when they had to wake him up to get off the team’s jet after a long case. It was everything.

Every one of those instances just made something inside Derek squirm. Before, when Derek was dating Melissa- he was able to hold that feeling at bay. But it had now been months since his and Melissa’s breakup, and he had nothing to stop his mind from thinking about Reid, so the feelings and thoughts about the genius only grew stronger.

He thought about him nonstop. About how Reid was precious, amazing, handsome, smart, and god- he was borderline perfect. And what had originally started as a small inkling feeling inside of him was growing, growing into something almost unmanageable. It took everything in Derek not to just lean over and grab the genius’ hand as he was waving it around when speaking about something he was passionate about, and holding it tightly.

It was getting worse, day by day it was hell at work. But it was the best suffering in the world. Seeing Spencer sat at his desk, deep in thought as he typed reports out, along with emailing scientists and doctors on the side. God, Reid was an absolute genius. Morgan wasn’t sure if he could easily get over that fact anymore as he used to. Now Spencer’s smarts had more meaning, and he wasn’t sure why.

Spencer’s smarts always mattered, and definitely came in handy for the team, saving their asses more than once. But now, his IQ level was something Derek caught himself almost worrying about.

Spencer wouldn’t ever say it, but what if he thought Derek was stupid? The brawn to his brain. Nothing more than a dude to tackle the bad guys and handcuff them down. What if Spencer thought he wasn’t a good person, a good friend?

Now, along with the growing admiration, he also had growing fear. Derek was now going back and forth between doubting himself and wanting nothing more than pulling Spencer into a janitors closet and kissing him until they needed air.

Yeah, Derek was screwed. Work was painful. But he wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t. Even if he wanted to, he kept going along, because every day he saw Reid that feeling inside him only grew, and he didn’t have the willpower to stop it, and even if he did- he probably couldn’t. This was the strongest he had ever felt in a long time. It would take an army to stop how he felt (and even then, he might still beat the army).

~

The night it all went down wasn’t what derek intended it to be, he was pretty much planning on hiding his crush on reid to the grave, not admitting it to anyone ever about how he felt. Because as Derek saw it, Spencer was too smart for him. Definitely out of his league.

Because in Morgan’s mind, how dumb could he be? He had been slowly falling in love with his best friend, all while not even realizing it- and dating someone who was absolutely horrid during that entire process. It was enough to make him smack his head against his wall.

~

Derek was working late the night it happened, going over this same dilemma in his head as he finished up the last of his reports to turn over to Hotch.

Nothing was happening in the bullpen, and for the first time in forever, Spencer had left before the work day ended. He had been complaining of a stomachache, and Rossi had smartly deduced he was sick, and even though Reid didn’t want to leave- the team all but kicked him out the door, telling him he wasn’t any good working when feeling like vomiting.

Derek had missed him since he left, he felt stupid admitting that, but it was the plain and simple truth. His days were just better with Reid, and there was no other explanation than that. As stupid as it was, Derek had come to agree with that fact a while ago, and now it was just normal, him missing Reid. But thankfully Reid didn’t leave often enough for it to be bad.

That being said, Derek still worried. Deciding to call Reid, it was only 7 p.m., after all. Surely Reid was still awake.

His cell phone ringed as Derek held it up to his ear, twirling his pen absentmindedly between his index and pointer finger as he waited for Spencer to answer.

And he did, he sounded groggy, but he answered; “Hello?” “Hey, Reid.” Derek spoke, a small stupid smile creeping its way into his face. “How are you feeling?” He asked, he heard Spencer shuffling on the other end of the line, then the faucet running.

“I’m okay... just really dizzy now, so I got myself some water.” “Did you eat enough today?” Derek asked him, changing tones from a concerned friend to something more.

“Yes, I did. You don’t need to worry about my eating.” Reid said simply, he wasn’t the type of guy who liked being watched over. Derek understood why, but this was still necessary.

“Reid, c’mon now. When was the last time you ate?”

“11:23 a.m., Garcia gave me a muffin.” Spencer admitted after a beat of silence, “Reid, you’ve been not eating for almost eight hours- no wonder you felt so sick, man!” Derek said into the phone as he stood up, shrugging his jacket onto his shoulders, deciding to leave now. The reports were almost done, anyway.

“Well, I’m not hungry so it’s fine..” Reid argued weakly in response, “Oh no, no. Don’t even, Spencer. I’m getting you food and taking it to your place. Now go lay down and take some tylenol, drink that water you got.”

Spencer huffed weakly, but made no move to argue or protest Morgan inviting himself over. “Fine. Please get me chicken noodle soup.”

~

As agreed, Derek got Spencer some chicken noodle soup from a great nearby deli Spencer had told him about a while ago. Derek was proud of himself for this choice in food, even if Spencer had requested soup, he hadn’t requested where. And Derek felt smart for remembering one of Spencer’s favorite places.

Derek arrived to Spencer’s apartment, the door was left unlocked so he came in, carrying the container of soup in both of his hands, so he pushed the front door shut gently with his foot.

“Hey, Reid. I’m here,” he called out into the apartment, as he made his way to the bedroom, finding a sleeping Spencer on the bed, covered in a few miscellaneous blankets to keep him warm.

Derek sat the container of soup onto the nearby bedside table, next to spencer’s near empty water glass, before looking down at reid.

Spencer was perfect, regardless if he was awake or asleep. But asleep he was so peaceful, so calm. Derek could so easily keep Spencer safe from everything in his sleep, hold him in his arms and help ground him. He knew Spencer got nightmares, everyone on the team did. But he knew if he was there, he could help, he could make it better.

Spencer was breathing softly, his face looked slightly flushed, and his hair was all over the place, some strands had fallen onto his face directly, which Derek gently pushed out of the way to get a better look at Spencer.

“Mmm..” Spencer mumbled in his sleep, a response to Derek touching him, Derek took a sharp breath in. God, he wanted to just tell Spencer right now he felt, he so badly did. And Spencer was asleep, what was stopping him? He could say it and Spencer wouldn’t remember. Because unlike conscious Spencer, unconscious Spencer didn’t remember things.

So before his brain could catch up to his body, he did. “I love you.” He told Spencer softly, it was barely above a whisper. It was so quiet he was sure Spencer didn’t hear it at all, but it was just Derek’s unfortunate luck that Spencer started to stir.

“Hm?” He asked, sitting up slowly, Derek pulled his hand away from where he had tucked the strand of hair away.

“I said, I brought you soup.” Derek lied easily, hoping that “I love you” and “I brought you soup” were interchangeable sounding sentences. Spencer just nodded, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes slowly as he turned to look at the container on his bedside table

He didn’t suspect anything, Derek let a breath of relief out internally as Spencer reached for the container. “It didn’t come with a spoon, so I’ll go get you one.” Derek told him, getting up to go back into Spencer’s kitchen and grab a spoon from the silverware drawer.

When Derek came back, Spencer was more awake, holding the container of soup in his hands expectantly as he waited. Derek handed him the spoon wordlessly, before sitting down on the bed next to Spencer. “How are you feeling?” Derek asked him, as Spencer hadn’t tried out the soup yet (he was waiting for it to cool a bit more.) “Tired- sorry I left, by the way.” Reid responded slowly, he still felt the tiniest bit groggy.

Derek shook his head, “No Reid, don’t apologize. Are you feeling any better?” Spencer nodded slowly in response, starting to stir the soup to help it cool down. Derek watched him, the soft light from the only lamp on in the room casted off shadows throughout the walls and onto Spencer. He looked beautiful, even if he was wearing pajamas and his hair was messy and he was stirring his soup while half awake.

To Derek, he looked perfect. And once again, Derek’s body moved too fast for his brain to catch up with. He was suddenly talking; “Reid, can I tell you something?” He asked the tired genius, who just nodded and gave an “Mhm” sound in return as he continued to stir his soup.

Derek breathed in, he couldn’t go back. It was now or never. He turned to face Spencer, and if he hated him after this, so be it.

“I was an idiot, Spencer. When I was with Melissa, searching for a good moment to stay happy about was rare. But the entire time I’ve known you, everything’s been a good moment. Every opportunity I’ve had with you has let me grow and become smarter, and a better person..” he took a second to look back at Spencer, who was now looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read.

“But I’ve still been stupid. Because the entire time I was with her, I only looked forward to being with you. I missed the best thing right in front of me, and I hope you know that I am not normally this dense... but..” this was the hardest part of his whole speech, how the fuck was he supposed to admit something like this?

“But,” he started again, “I like you, Reid. I really like you. This entire time I was chasing the wrong person and following dead leads, like a rookie on a new case. But I realize the only person that makes me feel anything is you- and... I think, I- no. I am. I am falling for you. And I don’t even know if you like guys but-“ It was by this point Spencer put his soup down back on his bedside table, the soft sound shut Derek up easily.

“You’re falling for me?” Spencer asked, just simply clarifying what he had said. Morgan nodded, standing by it. “Yes. I am.”

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief, something Derek hadn’t expected him to do. “You aren’t stupid... I- um. I’ve been falling for you too.”

That made Derek light up instantly, “You have?” Spencer nodded sheepishly, staring down at his fingernails instead of Derek. “I wasn’t expecting you to...” Spencer mumbled, as if that was a sufficient enough explanation on his part on why he was relieved and surprised.

“It just snuck up on me. I can’t get you out of my head, you’re all I want.” Derek admitted, more brashly than he would’ve liked to phrased things. But that didn’t seem to bother Spencer at all, as he started to lean forward slowly, Derek leaned forward too, reaching up to put his hand on the side of Spencer’s face to help him stay steady. Their lips were inches apart, but Spencer spoke. “Derek, I want to kiss you so bad. But if I’m sick I don’t want to risk infecting you-“

“Pretty boy, I’m breathing your air already. And I don’t think you have the flu, just low blood sugar.” Derek told him, which quickly shushed Reid up. They leaned forward more, and all the feelings of angst and dread that had built up between the two disintegrated as their lips touched slowly.

It was a soft kiss, a chaste one. But there definitely was passion behind it. Morgan stayed close to Spencer, resting his forehead against his.

“I belong with you...” Derek mumbled, he didn’t care if Spencer heard it anymore. He should hear it, he deserved to hear it. He deserved to know he was the only one Derek wanted.

Spencer pulled back, a small smile playing on his lips the entire time. “I can’t believe it...” he mumbled to Derek after a moment. “You should. You said it yourself, I belong with someone better. And it’s you. I just hope you agree.” Derek told him honestly, not leaving anything he said to chance. Spencer nodded, “Yes- you belong with me. Absolutely, yes. I agree.”

Derek smiled, pushing a loose strand of hair back behind spencer’s ear, before leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on Spencer’s forehead. “You eat that soup, I’ll go get you some more water.”

———————————————————————

[rosaliepostsstuff]

Chapter 4 - Of the D.A. and the good ol’ fashioned muggle beating

series masterlist

tags:  @weasleysbees ; @gloryekaterina​ ; @thatguppienamedbae​ ; @sagittarius-flowerchild​​; @hufflepuff5972​ ; @pandaxnienke​ ;  @izzyyy-1 and also @valwritesx​ because you mentioned wanting to give it a read

if you’d like to be added/removed, send a DM or an ask

warnings: swearing, sexual references, mentions of food, violence, a tiny bit of angst word count: 2895 a/n: I had so much fun getting back to this, but simultaneously, at the moment of checking and editing it I’m on my period and super irritable, so I’m not confident about how it came out, didn’t wan’t to hold it up any longer, though, so I hope you like it.

If you have any feedback, please let me know!

—————④—————

 “Are you sure this is going to work?” Alicia Spinnet asked in a tiny whisper. “It has to, I mean, why wouldn’t it? It’s really simple, nothing complicated,” you answered while scoping an intersection before taking a turn. “Why didn’t we take Angie..?” Alicia fretted. “Oh, you know what she’d say. Besides, she’s got important things on her mind now, the quidditch team and all…” “Right, right…” Alicia nodded, “but we could’ve asked Fred and George..?” she complained, looking around the dark corridors. “We don’t need them,” you whispered back, “we can do this on our own, now pull yourself together, girl..!” you said, trying to hide just how nervous you were yourself. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” she started walking a little closer to you, as you lit the way with your wand, holding it low enough not to wake the portraits. “We’ve got this.”

 “How much do we need?” Alicia questioned, scraping some moss off of an old castle wall. “I dunno… a lot?” you shrugged your shoulders and she glared at you, “keep going, definitely more than that.”

“Did you hear that?” she froze, terrified. You looked around the two of you, scanning your surroundings as your heart rate spiked up, “I didn’t hear anything. Let’s switch, you keep a lookout,” you instructed.

 “Here goes nothing,” you pointed your wand at the bucket, standing in an abandoned storage room, in an empty part of the castle, “geminio.”

The bucket multiplied.

“Awesome…” said Alicia, before a long yawn escaped her lips. “Minnie would be proud of me,” you noted, then performed the same spell a few more times.

 —————④—————

 You were quite weary the next morning, having breakfast with Angelina and Alicia, who was having trouble staying awake over her bowl of cereal.

“Morning,” greeted Fred and George, sliding into empty seats, even though they had free period first, and were lazily greeted back.

Hermione was reading The Daily Prophet a few seats further, and after a few seconds Fred asked, “Inspections..?” “Yeah, she’s gonna be sitting in on our lessons now, apparently. To make reports,” Angelina answered flatly, with a bit of irritation in her voice. “Oh, that should be fun,” George commented, to which Fred added, “I bet, a real shit-show” with a smirk.

Only then George glanced at the still not quite healed sentence on your hand and his face fell a bit, as your friends continued the conversation. Instead of going over the same thoughts once again, he took notice of your posture, facial expression and tired eyes.

“What’s up?” he nudged you with his elbow lightly. “Huh..?” you mumbled. “You look like death,” he stated. “Oh, thanks, charmer,” you replied sarcastically, pouring yourself a bit more coffee. “Everything alright?” George asked. “Yeah, stayed up late, is all,” you answered, avoiding further explanation and George nodded in response.

“What do you have first period?” he asked after a bit of silence, even though he knew the answer. “Ancient runes.”

 Later that day, before lunch, you had charms with Flitwick. It was one of few classes George, Fred and you had together.

As soon as the three of you walked into the classroom you noticed the pink toad standing at the front, talking to Flitwick, and you groaned involuntarily.

You walked over to one of the long benches to take your usual seat. George, instead of going to the next one and take his usual seat with Fred behind you, kept walking with you.

“Ehm, excuse me? That’s- that’s my seat,” Clint Nicholson, the Ravenclaw boy who usually sat next to you, pointed out. George gave him a single glance, “find a new one, mate,” he told him and you watched, a bit puzzled. “Will do.” Clint nodded right away and walked away, sitting next to some housemate of his.

“What was that for?” you asked, puzzled, once Clint set his books down. George looked at you with his eyebrows slightly raised. “For your information, I’m here to make sure you don’t end up boiling up again, with her around,” he said, pointing quickly at Umbridge, then ruffled your hair.

You had no energy to argue, so you looked at him dazed for a couple seconds more. “Sorry,” he added quietly, fixing a few strands of hair he messed up on top of your head.

 —————④—————

 “Wait, is it the musty old shack at the end of one of the side roads?” Lee asked, shoving a bag full of Zonko’s merch in his backpack.

You had just finished shopping with the boys and the four of you were headed to the Hog’s Head Inn. Fred and George had a rough idea of where the pub could be but you were the only one who knew the location.

“I think, isn’t it?” said Fred, before you could answer. “Oooh I know now, the place where the owner has the goat..!” Lee exclaimed like it was the most exciting piece of information in the world, but that was just his talent. “The goat?” George questioned, puzzled, walking with his hands in his pockets. “I mean, a goat. But I heard the guy l e g i t  has a goat in there. Like, as a pet,” Lee went on, “or maybe..? Do you think he..?” he trailed off with a suggestive facial expression, making the twins laugh.

“Ugh, stop right there,” you halted their train of thought with disgust written on your face, trying not to picture it. “But yes, that is the place. Reckon we’re gonna need something less crowded... Dodgier.”

 You were the last people to join in. After everyone had a butterbeer in hand, they gathered round in front of Harry and you settled in a chair next to Fred and George. The crowd was versatile, mostly 5th years, with a few younger and older people.

Hermione was the one that started talking and then the conversation rolled around the topic of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Although you were quite skilled in that department, wanting to be an Auror, there were always things you could learn or practice, or maybe even help some others.

They started arguing about Harry’s accomplishments. He spoke about how difficult it was, you hadn’t expected to be so moved but when he spoke about being near losing a friend or really losing one, the reality hit you properly. It got you thinking about what if, as you looked at a pair of hands scrunching up a beanie to your right. What if you lost George?

 Coming to Hogwarts, you weren’t one of the most confident kids. You got sorted into Gryffindor and naturally got somewhat close to other Gryffindors in your year. George and Fred were wild from day one. They were easy-going and somehow always managed to make you feel comfortable. By the end of your first year, you’d already considered them your proper friends.

It was always easier with George. Although you’d also trust Fred with everything and in return, you could kill for him, you’d always go to George first. So it became not only Fred, George and Y/N but also George and Y/N.

George was always there and understood. With George, you could communicate without words. He always had the right thing to say when you needed him most, and where words were unnecessary or ineffective, he knew the right thing to do. All that on top of being an all-around great guy.

You were always each other’s biggest support, and over the years developed some shared interests. You could still remember the time you discovered your shared love for one particular book series and how it became so special.

It was in your second year that you mentioned reading it. You had just been rereading the second tome right before the third was about to come out. George shared that he loved the books too, but Fred found the plot boring and overcomplicated. When the third tome came out, you both rushed with your pocket money to buy it and raced each other who could read it faster. You had so much fun with it and sharing your thoughts, you couldn’t wait until the continuation would come out. Next year, however, when the book was about to be released, George was really sheepish about it. After many attempts, you managed to learn that with George’s younger brother starting school, his parents didn’t have enough money for him to buy the book. So you did, and you read it together – that’s how the tradition started. As the series was continued, no matter which one of you paid for the book, you’d always read it together. Over the years you forgot about the money aspect of it – you just loved spending hours upon hours with your best friend, engrossed in your favourite story. Sharing the experience with George made it that much more amusing, memorable and so, so special.

So after all that, what would happen if he was gone one day?

“That’s not what he said,” you were pulled out of your thoughts by Fred’s voice when he snarled at Zacharias Smith. George pulled some long, metal object out of his Zonko’s bag, “Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?” he inquired. “Or any part of your body, really, we’re not fussy where we stick this,” added Fred.

A wide grin appeared on your face and you started blinking away some tears you hadn’t even noticed were about to appear a moment before. You looked down at your feet, not wanting George to notice that, but you still smiled to yourself.

You were proud to call those two your friends.

 —————④—————

 The following Monday, walking to breakfast with your roommates you noticed a giant notice on the board in the common room. The sign declared all student organizations, societies, teams, groups, and clubs disbanded. This new information took a turn on everyone, you spent a long time trying to help Angelina calm down as it meant their quidditch team as well. The great hall was filled with buzz that morning and the Dumbledore’s Army stood in question. Everyone decided to stick to the plan, though, so you did.

Over the next few days Fred and George some massive boils as a result of their unfinished formula for Fever Fudge. It proved a great joking material for you, up until Fred threatened to show them to you if you didn’t stop. Angelina also managed to get permission to reform their quidditch team, meaning your friends would spend a lot of time on the pitch now, with 3 weeks until the first match of the season.

 —————④—————

 “Well,” said Harry, slightly nervously. “This is the place we’ve found for practices, and you’ve — er — obviously found it okay —” “It’s fantastic!” said Cho, and several people murmured their agreement. “It’s bizarre,” said Fred, frowning around at it. “We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then…”

“A room that gives you whatever you need, whenever you need it? That would’ve come in handy,” you exclaimed, looking around once again. “Yeah, for you, I bet. More spacious than a broom cupboard, isn’t it?” Fred teased you with a shit-eating grin. You immediately reached your foot, over a puzzled looking George, to kick him. Fred wasn’t talking about anything that actually happened but you felt a bit embarrassed nonetheless.

Your first practice session felt very odd, but also fun. You practised the disarming charm, and you partnered up with Neville. He even managed to disarm you a couple of times.

 —————④—————

 The morning of the match, Gryffindor vs Slytherin, you separated from Fred and George with a kick in the butt for good luck and headed to find the best seat.

The game was dynamic and it turned really aggressive – as most games against Slytherin did. This time, however, they developed a song ‘Weasley is our King’ to get into the team’s, and especially Ron’s, minds. It drove everyone even more.

You were at the edge of your seat and didn’t know where to look. You clutched the ends of your Gryffindor scarf tightly, biting your lip constantly and your gaze alternated between keeping track of the quaffle and following George around. He was doing brilliantly, as always.

The game ended suddenly, Harry caught the snitch and Gryffindor won. Your happiness was mixed with concern as you saw him get hit square in the back by a bludger the moment he caught the snitch. You made your way down to see if he was alright and congratulate your friends.

When you finally reached the pitch your stomach immediately sank and you knew something was wrong. The air felt thick. It was just the two teams on the grass and everyone looked on edge, Fred and George stood stiff.

You heard Malfoy say something indistinctly to you and the twins were about to jump on him, being held down by the rest of the team.

You continued walking towards them but George didn’t see you, he was too focused on Malfoy talking about his family. His jaw was clenched and his whole body tense, shoulders straight – he seemed even taller and bigger than usual.

But the moment Malfoy mentioned Harry’s parents, he let go of George and the both of them tackled Draco. You froze in spot, not knowing what to do. You were scared for George, not wanting him to get hurt or get in trouble, but you couldn’t deny Malfoy deserved it and seeing George land punch after a punch on the prat was scary but satisfying. Seeing him stand up for his family and a friend was also something completely else, which you wouldn’t admit to yourself.

 —————④—————

 You closed the door to George’s dorm. Fred was out somewhere, blowing some steam off and none of the team members was in the mood to celebrate tonight after three great players got a lifetime ban.

George had showered and changed, he lay sprawled out across the bed, covering his eyes with his forearm.

You put down the few things you brought, that could help with the cut and swelling on his lip, on the bedside table and sat down next to him.

“Can you sit up?” you instructed quietly, with a soft voice. You felt so bad for him and couldn’t imagine how bad he must’ve felt. And you knew he was angry, still.

He took a deep breath after a few seconds, then sat up. Both his hands were now clutching the bed tightly and he stared straight ahead, he avoided looking you in the eye.

You soaked a cotton swab and squeezed the excess, then turned back to him and moved a bit closer, so that your work was easier, and your thighs were touching now. You placed one of your hands on his jaw to hold his head in place. You made a mental note to yourself now was not the time to point out it was time to shave. You started dabbing silently and George winced quietly at the first touch.

“Did he mean that..?” you asked after a minute or so, barely audible. “What?” George mumbled and you put the swab away. “Is it true..? That quidditch was the only thing keeping you here?” you paused to take a deeper breath, “are you going to just leave now?”

George shifted on the bed and looked away, showing signs of irritation, then looked down at his hands, fiddling in his lap. His features softened, he rested elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands, sighing deeply.

His silence disturbed you, and you also shifted, turning to face him.

“Maybe for Fred. We talked about this for a bit, but… Yes, you do make this shit-hole bearable.” “…but?” “But if we’re talking school-specific? Nothing. You know we don’t need to sit here. We have the money, we could start up the shop and start doing real things,” he looked at you, “Y/N, we’re friends outside of school, if I left, I wouldn’t just vanish out of your life. And you’d do fine without me here.” “Yeah, just peachy, George!” You huffed, “it’s 8 months! Eight whole-fucking-months, the year has barely started.” “Relax, I didn’t say we’re leaving.” You relaxed a bit, slouching. “There’s still a bit more testing we could do here, and also the D.A. stuff...” He added.

You were quiet for a bit, both avoiding each other’s eyes.

“Are you upset I beat Malfoy up?” George asked, slightly subdued This surprised you slightly. “No, I’m not. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, considering the consequences,” you waved your hands around and shrugged your shoulders, “but also, the prat deserved it. Annd it was nice to see you in action,” you said with a chuckle and a faint smile appeared on his face with a raised brow, “good to know what you’re capable of, if needed.”

He tried his best to hold back the grin, but couldn’t, “capable, huh?” he questioned. You blushed, because you didn’t mean to make it sound suggestive, and you were about to start explaining yourself when he tackled you, tickling your sides.

All your attempts to defend yourself, attack him back or get out of his grasp were pointless.

You had to just let go and surrender.

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 10)

Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything.  

Find the rest of the fic here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

Tag list: @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore,  @redqueenetwork, @tranquil-dusk (I’m trying to add you but for some reason it wont @… the same problem happens with @thatoddgirl777 and I have no idea how to fix it)

(/Mare/)

I’ve been freed from Protocol for the time being. Cal pulls the same strings as last time, and I am put into Training. It makes my blood sing to know that I am going to be joining him there too. One more place where we can protect each other and plan without anyone knowing. We are a secret, united front that the Silver’s will never see coming.

         It’s been a week since my first meeting with Farley. I almost expected Maven not to show up to join us, but just as he did before, he appeared out of the shadows with the servant Holland. He was just as full of the righteous fire I remembered, smiling at me and promising things he will never give. Swearing fealty to Farley and her cause for the good of everyone. I wish I had the courage to ask him if he had meant those things.

         I’d gone back to my rooms cold and shaken, feeling in all senses of the word numb. Walsh had to practically guide me back to avoid me taking wrong turns and getting lost. In bed, I drown in the memories of the future that I am rapidly stumbling towards, trying to keep my head up as the tides suck me deeper. I toss and turn for hours, kicking the blankets off before pulling them back on when I wake from my hazy doze shivering uncontrollably because of invisible silent stone walls.

         I’d slipped through the secret door in my closet and felt my way through the dark tunnel to Cal’s rooms. It was silent in them, not even the sound of his breathing disturbed the space. Sure enough, his bed was empty and neatly made. He wasn’t even in Summerton. I’d sunk onto the bed before slipping under the blankets and burying myself in his smell.

         I’d woken to warm hands lifting me out of the blankets. Gripping his shirt, I’d whispered sleepily to him as he carried me back to my rooms. His voice was soft as he’d replied with a gentle, “you’re fine. I’ve got you.” I had to enter my room alone though, just to avoid the cameras seeing him.

         Now standing in the training room a week later, I still can’t shake the blanket of cold that envelopes me. Dread pools in my stomach the closer we get to the Ball and the closer I get to those names Maven will deliver. Everything is working perfectly, I have no reason to worry. And yet, a part of me quivers with nerves. Maven is as charming as ever, but something bubbles behind his eyes. Maybe it’s because I know what to look for now and I see it. But I had been just as untrustworthy the first time around. I would have seen it then too.

         Standing off to the side with my arms crossed I watch the young Silvers prepare for a session of tearing each other apart. Inhaling slowly, I take in the scent of the freshly washed matts and the summer breeze from the open windows. It’s been sweltering for the past few days, and sure enough a bead of sweat rolls down between my shoulder blades, tracing the track of my spine.

         On the other side of the training room, Cal catches my eye. He quirks a brow before pushing off the wall he’s leaning against. Strolling across the room, he tucks his hands into the pockets of his training jacket. When we’re standing side by side he rolls his shoulders a few times and says, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there a few nights ago.”

         “You were off being a crown prince.” I say and wave my hand for emphasis, “doing crown prince things.” My lips quirk up a little bit at the edges when his frown deepens. I haven’t teased him much since we got stuck here, I forgot how much fun it is.

         “I won’t lie; I did think someone put a dead body in my bed.”

         “Don’t be dramatic.” I tease him, hiding my smile behind my hand. On the other side of the room, Evangeline holds court around the targets. She hasn’t made any moves like she did in the breakfast room weeks ago, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have something planned. If I recall, today is dueling day, and this was when she decided to take a piece out of my face.

         “Hard for him not be, he’s so very good at it.” Maven’s voice cuts the air between us like a knife. I spin to face him quickly, throwing up a smile to hide the fear that rushes through me. He tilts his head to the side and smiles as well. “What is he being dramatic about now?”

         Cal clears his throat, and hides his discomfort with a laugh. Setting his hand on Maven’s shoulder and squeezing he says lightly, “something to do with Shadow Legion. It’s been… difficult.”

         If Maven is fooled by our game, I cannot tell. A part of me sends a silent prayer that he didn’t hear anything. But a smarter part of me chastises myself for even falling prey to my fears and searching out Cal. Have I doomed us with my little slip up?

         “So I’ve heard, has Rhambos been giving you trouble again?” Maven grins at Cal in the way only brother’s sharing a private joke can.

         “You have no idea.” Cal’s relief is near invisible, and I have to force my own to be that way as Maven comes to stand next to me. His eyes dart to me and he gives me a small, tentative smile. I return it, wondering exactly what is going through his mind. What I wouldn’t give to be a Whisper just so I can know if we are in the clear.

         He turns his eyes forward as Arven calls Tirana forward to duel. His name comes next, and as he leaves my side, the little bubble of heat I didn’t notice him exuding leaves with him. His shoulders are tense as he steps into the makeshift arena to face the nymph. Next to me, Cal’s hands clench into fists.

         When he comes sulking out, dripping water all over the floor, his eyes are burning. They dart to me and soften for a heartbeat before hardening once more. Mercifully, Cal keeps his mouth shut and turns to watch the next match when Maven steps in between us. The air crackles with heat, and a few of the other Silvers take a step back, making it appear as if they are simply interested in something else.

         “Nothing to say?” Maven murmurs when Cal continues to sit in silence. My eyes dart to them, and my hand slowly closes in a fist at my side.

         “There’s nothing to say.”

         “You always have something to say, forgive me if it’s a surprise when you don’t.” Maven turns those eyes on Cal, and I imagine his stare could turn Cal into a puddle of human parts if he weren’t a burner as well. He’s instigating, something I never saw him do. Or maybe it’s happened before and I never got the chance to see it. Cal makes no move to show me panic, so maybe Maven being this bitter has occurred sometime in the past before I met them. Maybe nothing is wrong and he’s picking a fight because he’s upset about the embarrassment of his loss.

Straightening his shoulders, Cal turns a neutral look onto Maven, sweeping him over with his eyes. “You could have beat her if you had given her a bit more space. You were stronger than her the whole fight.” Cal assures, his eyes dancing to me for a moment. We both know that isn’t what he said last time. But this didn’t occur last time, and without a script Cal struggles.

Maven’s entire body tenses, even as his expression cools. It’s such an odd contradiction that I’m not quite sure what will happen next. Reaching out, I close my hand around his wrist and squeeze. He’s cold as ice, and I shiver involuntarily as my skin makes contact with his. I don’t know why I expected heat.

His flips around to look at my hand, his lips pursed in a tight line. I swallow my grimace and offer him a gentle, knowing smile.

“There will be more fights. More important fights.” I raise my brow, hoping he takes my hint. The anticipation of his reaction practically drives me to dig my nails into his skin. I’m surprised he doesn’t flip around and demand to challenge Cal right here, right now. It would be a short fight, but it would be no less damning.

His shoulders soften though, and his stance shifts to one of embarrassment. “Of course.” He murmurs, his other hand coming to rest on mine. “There always are.”

 Hiding my relief behind a smile, I try to pull my hand away. I can’t believe I thought he would actually go to blows with Cal. He’s smarter than that, and better at playing the long game than I give him credit for in the moment.  

Before I can pull my hand away completely, he grips it tighter and stares me down, daring me to pull away. He puts up the mask then, the one that I loved dearly and searched for during my months with him in Archeon.

 “Even if some battles are already lost.” He whispers as he leans close to me so his words are only for me.

He’s a desperate boy now. I can hear the ache in his voice. What does he know? What does his mother know? Nothing, I’m certain they know nothing. Elara didn’t get anything from me, and she hasn’t gotten anything from Cal. We’ve been careful enough, we’re never together in a way that anyone could question. We haven’t even gone into that moonlit room yet. I haven’t put a knife in Maven’s back yet. Maybe he was more jealous of my escapade to the Stilts than I initially noticed. That’s the only thing he has to work with, and maybe the fact that Cal and I were obviously teasing each other before training just now. He’d never been so outwardly jealous of Cal though. His jealousy was always a quietly simmering pot that never overflowed. He was so much more dangerous because of that.

Pulling away from me when I stay silent, he gives me a rueful smile and turns to face the arena where Elane and Sonya are tearing each other to pieces. I can’t focus though; my mind turns into a tail spin of panic. Have we slipped up? Did I damn us a few nights ago? Are we even off track? What if we are? What has changed?

I am so lost in my own thoughts I almost miss Evangeline demanding our fight. Lifting my eyes to her, I take in her gloating smile. She senses my panic, but has no inclination of the source.

Maven jumps to my defense like a cat would to a mouse. Evangeline doesn’t back down though. I should be grateful for this, at least something is back on track. It’s been a while since I’ve been glad for Evangeline Samos, and even though she is not my friend now, she is the closest thing I’ve seen since training started.

 (/////)

 Sitting in the darkness of my room that night, I watch the moonlight as it passes over the floor. Are the Sentinels watching me on their screens, wondering if I’ve lost my mind? I doubt it. Unless Elara had told them to keep a closer eye on me. I wouldn’t be surprised, when she’d corned me and Maven in the hallway I had felt her creeping in my mind, searching in the mirrored halls I’d barely had enough time to drag up to protect my memories.

Sighing, I let my head fall into my hands as I breathe. Focusing on the hum of the cameras, I follow the source of the electricity along the wires. The purr of the current fills my senses and drowns me. For a moment, I let myself just exist in the peaceful darkness behind my eyelids. Things will only get harder from here. I regret not tuning for Montfort more than anything now. 

A gentle knock on the door drags me out of my meditation. Raising my eyes to the door, I wrap my robe tighter around me as I stand. My steps are near silent as I creep across the room and crack open the door.

Leaning against the frame of the doorway, Cal looks more exhausted than I’ve ever seen him. With a shadow creeping along his jaw, he looks more like he did in Montfort. He was on the verge of doom and greatness here, and there too. He wears the years he’s already lived tonight in the bags under his eyes and the weariness of his shoulders. 

When he spots the sliver of my face behind the door, he gives me a tentative smile. “Up for a dance?” He asks quietly as I open the door a little wider. 

Nodding, I let him pull me out of my room and toward a moonlit room where I can at least pretend for a little while that I’m safe even if I’m the furthest from safe that I’ve ever been.

 (////)  

 In the hours leading up to the ball, while I am being painted and primed, the names Maven gave as targets ring through my head. When he had visited me late in the dark to tell me them, I had expected him to give me different names. I’d whisper to Cal that I thought I had messed up, and given us away. He’d tried to assure me that everything would alright. And when we kiss this time, there was a desperation to it. Like Maven, he is terrified to lose me, and he poured that fear into the kiss he gave me. 

Reynold Iral, Ptolemus Samos, Ellyn Macanthos. Belicos Leorlan. Those names chase me and haunt my waking hours. The prospect of them being wrong, and Maven adding more names, or different ones, haunts me even more. 

Belicos with his two young children who will die tonight too, Ptolemus Samos who will live to someday kill my brother but father a beautiful daughter with Wren, Colonel Macanthos with her sly eye that can see right through Elara’s schemes, and Reynold, a man I’m pretty sure is lost somewhere anyway dance behind my eyelids and in the corner of my eyes. I don’t think I will ever be rid of my ghosts. 

I couldn’t breathe when I stood before Mareena and saw her in the mirror. She was lovely and wicked in the light of my room, and I’m sure she’ll look the same way at the ball tonight. The dress is the same riotous mess of gemstones and purple fabric that I hate even more this time around, especially when I have to stand next to Maven and observe him in his beautiful charcoal suit. He is beautiful in it, as beautiful as I remember. It makes my stomach twist every time I look at him.

The pleasantries leave me just as breathless, and I can feel Evangeline’s eyes on me as she glares down the line at the people who are to come. It’s almost a relief when Maven pulls me out onto the balcony, just so that I can inhale fresh air. As we go, I feel the brush of Cal’s hand as he reaches back to catch my skirt. My eyes dart to him in warning, but he’s already hiding the movement behind setting his hand on Evangeline’s back and smiling at Belicos as he steps forward to greet them.

Even as Maven pulls me onto the balcony, my heart is pounding. Seeing Belicos a second time does nothing to ease the ache in my heart. His children, I remember their bodies laid out next to his like they were nothing. Was Maven’s emotion in the moment a scam? Had he felt anything seeing their little bodies. I don’t know what’s real and the closer we get to the moment, the more my fear increases. .

         “You’re giving them a father.” I whisper, the words like poison on my tongue. He’d give anything to topple the Guard, and he did give everything. Even if I hadn’t been enough to completely crush us. At the same time though, he wasn’t the one to truly give those names. Elara told him who to pick and he acted like a good little mouth piece.  He could have chosen not to give that name though. In the moment he could have chosen to spare a father and his children. He’d made that choice. I know he’s braver than he claims, especially where Elara is concerned. Farley was right to call him a coward.

         He lets go of me but doesn’t step away when I speak. He stays close instead, his hands just ghosting over my skin. He looks like a marble statue in the moonlight, his lips drawn in a tight line. Achingly beautiful, a boy on the cusp of manhood and his own demise, an angel teetering over the edge of the abyss. 

He backs me into the wall, his eyes like chips of ice in the pale plane of his face. Slowly he places his hands on either side of my head, trapping me so that I have to listen to him.

         “Reynald is a father, too. The Colonel has children of her own. Ptolemus is now engaged to the Haven girl. They all have people; they all have someone who will mourn them.” The words are forced and cold. A part of him believes those words but the larger part of him, the one Elara has groomed to be king someday knows it must be done. “We can’t pick and choose how to help the cause, Mare. We must do what we can, whatever the cost.”

         My skin feels like it’s alive. I might electrocute him right here, right now, until he backs away from me. I have half a mind to press my hand to his chest and shove him over the balcony. It would take one push, and I know all the weak points to knock someone of balance now. It would be so easy. I could claim it was the Scarlet Guard, that they appeared on the balcony and pushed him.

         His breath is warm on my face as he whispers, “I want this to be done with the least blood shed possible.”

         His hand trembles as he brings it up to brush his fingertips along my cheek, a ghost of a touch, like he can’t bear to let his skin connect with mine. “Tonight will change everything.”

         My heart pounds harder against my ribs as he pulls back enough to give me space. His eyes dance away from me and back to the line of dwindling nobles. The pleasantries are over, it’s time. Even if I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready though.

         The shadows break again and I recognize Cal’s familiar outline as he steps onto the balcony. “You two all right out here?” His expression is hesitant, probably worried that he’s interrupted a moment that I am supposed to be getting information. His eyes linger on me, his expression softening. These next moments will be the hardest. “You ready for this, Mare?”

         Maven jumps on my silence. “She’s ready.”

         Taking my arm in his, he pulls me along. He was never this aggressive with me. At least, not that I remember. Maybe I had been so blinded by my emotions of the night that I hadn’t realized how he was acting. He’s agitated though, and monsters are dangerous like that. 

         Still, Cal’s fingers brush against my wrist, his touch somehow colder than Maven’s. I wish he actually took my hand and held it. When I look over my shoulder at him, his expression is stormy. He’d never been so outwardly nervous about Maven. At least he’s not afraid. We know what comes tonight. I told him what to expect, and he knows what he has to do. I wonder if he will be able to put Farley through the pain of the Gilican shiver’s torture now. I have to rely on him to do just that though.

        Evangeline appears at his side, her jewel encrusted fingers enclosing his arm. She squeezes tightly when she sees my eyes lingering on him. 

     Oh Evangeline. I wish I could help her now. She has her own battle to fight though. 

         Maven’s lips almost brush my ear as he whispers to me, “This is the hard part.”

         Even with all the eyes on me, I don’t blush. He pulls me into the frame but his skin is warmer than I remember. And as we start the dance, his eyes never leave my face. What is he looking for there?

         As we move in the box formation, he raises a brow and his lips curl into a smile. “You’ve been practicing.”

         “A bit, didn’t want to step on your toes.” I reply with my own smile. I put as much true joy as I can behind it. 

           His eyes flash for a moment and he leans a little closer to whisper, “You’re just full of surprises.” He chuckles, and the grin he gives me as he pulls back makes my stomach flutter. There is the boy that had captured my trust and my heart. I turn away at the sight of it, my stomach dropping.

         I spot Cal spin Evangeline, who looks more like a glittering ball of spikes than a human. I’m surprised she doesn’t slice Cal’s hands open when he rests them on the back of the dress. I miss her more casual regalia that she wears in Montfort. I never saw her casual outfits that she wore here, but I imagine she carried that style into Ascendant.

Sensing my gaze, Cal’s eyes meet mine. His fingers close around Evangeline’s waist, and a million memories of him doing the same thing with me come back. I can almost feel his hand sliding around my waist in the tiny living room of our apartment as he hums the song playing on the radio. I can remember laying my head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat and the sound of his humming reverberating in his chest. He can’t carry a tune to save his life, but it is still wonderful.

We spin through two songs until I feel dizzy with anticipation. Just when I think Maven will pull me to the side though, he leans close to me. I almost pull away, but instead force myself to stay close and turn my head slightly to give him a shy smile. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them though.

         “I told you that everything changes tonight.” He breathes against my ear. I nod, confused where this is going. “And I do have to admit that I’ve… kept something from you.”

What? What is he getting at? I pull away, panic flaring through me as I search that face for the truth. He’s too good at hiding it though. I grip his hand tightly, prepared to push as much electricity through his body as I can muster.

His hand burns in my grip instead. My lips curl in pain, but he ignores it and spins me so that my back is to the crowd around us. Forcing me to step into the next dance, he tilts his head forward again to whisper. “I did give Farley four names. But I lied to you about one of them.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice is cold, dangerous too. He senses it, pulling back a fraction. We stop dancing, and his hands drop to his sides. My heart beats so erratically, I worry it might beat right out of my chest.

He tilts his head to the side, his lips falling. “Ptolemus is a good target. Removing him would send the officers into chaos. But there was… a better target, one that would cause more chaos.”

“Who did you give?”

Who did your mother give? I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake it out of him. His lips curl up slowly, a remorseful smile if I ever saw one from him. My blood goes cold at the sight of it.

“Farley agreed with me that you were getting too close, that your attention was becoming divided. She also agreed that if there was ever a time to cut the head off the snake it was now.” He takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “I’ll step up in his place. My father will never recover from the loss, so Farley can do what she pleases. It is a win for all of us.”

Realization burns through my stomach, followed immediately by frozen panic. “What have you done?” I wheeze as I flip around, searching the crowd, desperately trying to find Cal’s silhouette. In the mass of bodies, I can’t find him and my fingers twitch at my sides as I glance up in the rafters. The Sentinels pace, searching the crowd but they are looking in the wrong places. Above them, shadows move too. The Guard is already in position, ready to carry our Farley’s plot. 

“I know that you two have become…friends.” Maven begins, taking my hand and pulling me back around so that I face him. I try to turn my head and search the crowd still, but he grabs my chin and drags my eyes back to his face. “That’s why I asked Farley to take the shot. She’ll give him a quick end. One bullet and a dynasty will end.”

One bullet that won’t miss. One bullet that will tear my future away from me. One bullet that will break me, because Farley never, ever misses.

My blood boils and sparks dance on my fingertips as I glare at him. Cold calm washes over me as the rush of adrenaline leaves. I am in battle mode now; survival is all I can think about when I stare down the man before me.

“Farley removed you from the mission. That’s why I didn’t tell you I gave her his name. She thought you might compromise us.”

We were wrong. I gave something away. Elara never would have dared to target Cal. She needs him to get rid of his father, she needs a scapegoat. But if she looked in my head or his and saw the future, she would have seen that he is more trouble than he’s worth. She would have found out that cutting him from the equation might someday save her and Maven.

If I turn and run after him, I will confirm whatever they believe about us, whatever they have found. But if I sit here, I will lose everything. I can’t go after him; I can’t save him or else I risk Farley and compromising this whole mission.

I am a selfish creature though. I always have been, and I always will be.

Ripping my hand from Maven’s grip I flip around to push my way through the crowd. I have time, there’s still time. I am racing against a clock I can’t see though. It’s like push through mud as I shove my way through the crowd. People gasp and glare at me, but I have eyes only for one person and I can’t find him.

My eyes start to water, and my breathing comes in ragged gasps.

Farley doesn’t miss. And she will make sure she doesn’t miss this time.

Memories of him lying on the sand of Harbor Bay, grey and lifeless threaten to overtake me. I shove them down. He won’t be made into a symbol tonight. I still have time.

There.

He stands with his back to me, speaking quietly with some military personnel or another. I shove through the last of the crowd, my hand extended for him. Elara’s eyes are on me, I can feel them, but I don’t care. I don’t care about keeping things on track. Jon can damn himself to the hells. I won’t lose him.

“Cal!” I scream his name, making him turn. His brows furrow, his expression confused by my panic and fear. I’m five steps away. Then four, hand outstretched as he takes a tiny movement forward as if he might meet me halfway. He never gets the chance.

The lights drop and four guns fire at the same time.

I scream so loud that my own ears ring. The lights around us flare to life on their own by the sheer force of my ability. My vision tunnels, even as someone slams into me from the side, screaming in panic as the lights directly above me explode in a shower of sparks. 

I shove them away from me and sprint to his downed form. The man he’d been speaking to is gone, probably lost in the panic. People are screaming, shouting and pointing to the roof.

I slide the last foot between us on my knees and come to his side. Blood, there’s so much blood. I choke on a sob as I try to find the source of it. His eyes are open though, and his mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish.

Relief like nothing I’ve ever felt rushes through me, and I choke on his name as I feverishly try to find the source of the blood. It’s staining his uniform and pooling around his shoulder. His hands press to his chest, and I immediately press my hands on top of his. Sticky, burning blood pours through my fingers though.

“Mare.” His voice is ragged as he gasps my name, and I tear my eyes from the wound long enough to meet his eye. His going grey, the black undertones starting to appear under his eyes.

“No, stop trying to talk. You have to keep breathing.” I cry as I press the heels of my palms harder into the wound. More blood pours out and I feel like I’m fighting an uphill battle when I reach down and rip some of my dress off to press it to the wound. “Healer! Someone get a healer!” I scream to the panicked crowd. They’re like spooked animals though. No one notices their crown prince on his back bleeding out.

His hand closes weakly around my wrist and squeezes, trying to get my attention. His eyes are wide, but his expression is anything but fearful. “Don’t—” he begins, but ends up coughing on blood instead.

“No, no, no.” I sob as I push harder and glare at him. “No last words Calore. Not tonight. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to sit and drink coffee and talk with Julian again, and see Clara and my family again. And—and we’re going to see our baby, we’re going to hold him and watch him grow and become a better person than either of us. It’s going to be fine. Everything will be fine!”

His grip weakens on my wrist even as he smiles. My throat closes and I drop my chin to my chest. It’s a pretty picture I paint, but it fades with every slow beat of his heart. “Help!” I scream uselessly one more time, hoping someone will hear, that someone will come to my aid.

The crowd parts for a moment, and Sara who whipped around at the sound of my scream finds me. She barrels her way to us, and drops to her knees on Cal’s other side.

“Help him, save him.” I sob at her.

Her lips twist at the sight of all the blood, but she immediately pushes my hands away from the wound and replaces my hands with hers. Cal’s head falls back and his eyes close the minute she does. I leap for him, grabbing his face and trying to get him to open his eyes again. His neck falls slack in my grip through and I end up almost shaking him.

“Open your eyes, open your fucking eyes.” I scream at him, tears pouring like rivers down my cheeks. Hands grab me and try to pull me away, but I thrash against them and scream. When I’m flipped around, I meet Julian’s tortured expression.

He pulls me to him, keeping me out of Sara’s way as she works. His eyes never leave his nephew’s face. I wonder if he is seeing his sister in his grey features. Cal looks like a corpse, and my entire body feels like a live wire set to explode at any second.

“Don’t let him die. Please, don’t let him die.” I beg Sara, reaching a hand out to grab Cal’s hand. It’s cold in my grip and I almost vomit when my stomach clenches.

Her eyes dance up to me, and I see the resolve there. Is he lost? I don’t know if I will be able to bear that burden, if I will be able to survive this crushing blow.

She pulls her blood stained hands away and I dive out of Julian’s arms to grab at Cal. For a moment, I think he’s truly gone and a pained sob leaves my chest, sounding more like a scream than a moment of weakness. Underneath my hands though, his chest hitches with a breath, and then begins to rise and fall slowly.

The ballroom is practically empty around us. The royals have fled, the Sentinels have gone after Farley and the others. All that is left is us and the corpses. But there is one less among them.

“Cal,” I whisper to him as I brush his hair off his forehead. His eyes open for a moment only to close in a grimace.

“I wasn’t one of the targets.” He breathes, and I slowly let my forehead fall to rest on his chest. He wasn’t, but he survived. Turning to answer my call had saved his life. He’d changed his positioning, too fast for Farlet to correct her shot before the lights went out. She’d shot blindly, and almost succeeded in killing him.

“This sounds like a conversation for more… private chambers.” Julian’s voice is a dangerous rumble. I glance at him over my shoulder, belatedly realizing that he saw me sob over a prince that is not mine. He heard Cal mention targets, and judging by the fury behind his eyes, he is rapidly putting two and two together.

“Julian,” I reach for him, but he pushes to stand and then steps up to Cal’s other side.

“Sara will finish her work in my rooms. You two will come with us.” He bends down to grab one of Cal’s arms and help him sit up. I almost try to stop him, but he glares down at me. “Help me get him up and moving. We will have to move quickly.”

I crawl over Cal and grab his other arm before helping him to his feet. He stumbles, barely able to take his own weight. I grunt underneath him, and press into his side. Already I can feel the heat returning to his skin, and it sends such a thrum of relief through me that I have to swallow more tears.

 (////)

 Julian’s rooms are dark and after he helps me deposit Cal on one of the couches, he works quickly to shut all the curtains and lock the doors. I search for the cameras, but there are none for me to turn off.

He lights a few candles and brings them to the side table to light Sara’s work space. She shoes me away and takes my place at Cal’s side before tearing his ceremonial suit off. While she healed the artery that was severed, there is still a bullet in his chest. I can just catch one of the edges reflecting in the dim light.

Sara holds out an expectant hand and not even a heartbeat later, Julian sets a small cloth wrapped set of tools in her hands. She sets them in her lap and goes to work as I edge around the back of the couch and take one of Cal’s hands in my own. His pulse is getting stronger with every passing second, and his grip increases as Sara digs the first tool in to get the bullet out.

“Both of you, talk.” Julian’s fury is like nothing I’ve seen before. Even when I came to him for help in freeing Farley and Kilorn, he had still been soft, quiet. This fury is the fury of a man that has seen horrible dark places and is terrified to be forced back into them. 

I glance at Cal who grimaces and grinds his teeth together when Sara starts to tug on the bullet. He won’t be able to make this decision right now.

“You wouldn’t believe us.” I say quietly before looking up at Julian and begging him to understand my hesitation. 

“Try me.” He grinds out past his clenched jaw.

My stomach turns and Cal squeezes my hand. I glance down at him, and he nods slowly. We have been compromised. It’s time.

“You have to… listen the whole time. Don’t waste time with questions.” I urge, and in the low light, Julian’s nod creates dark shadows across his features. He looks older than I’ve ever seen him. Bowing my head, I inhale slowly and then launching into the story, starting with the most dangerous truth.

It takes more time than I want for Sara to finish with Cal, and for me to finish the story. As he gets stronger, Cal interjects, adding bits and pieces that I forget. Julian keeps true to his word and stays quiet, but his expression pulls into a deeper and deeper frown as we go. 

“How could you not trust me with this. If you know what I am to be to you, why would you not seek out my help immediately?” He pushes to his feet and begins pacing the space before us. Sara watches him, her eyes solemn.

“We—I didn’t want to put you in danger.” Cal whispers, pushing to a sitting position. I try to push him back down, but he fights me off.

“I end up in danger anyway.” Julian turns his gaze on Cal, but it’s softened considerably. I relax as he steps forward to look both of us over. “You’re certain Elara knows the truth?”

“Cal wasn’t a target. But Maven made him one tonight and pushed me off the mission. He knew about me and Cal and if he knows about that, then he knows about everything else.” I whisper, and take the rag Sara had brought a few minutes ago. Wiping some of the blood of Cal’s chest, I shake my head. “I gave us away completely tonight by saving you.”

Cal closes a hand over mine and squeezes softly.

“You must have given yourselves away some time before that.” Julian stops his pacing to set his fists on his hips. Glaring at the carpet like it is the sole reason for his worry, he says, “and now you are once again at the mercy of Elara’s mechanisms.”

“Not exactly.” Cal argues, sitting up completely and starting to shrug his uniform jacket on. Julian raises a brow at his words, but waits until Cal gives up with the buttons to let him speak. 

“We know what her ultimate end game is, and there is more than one way to get to the point we want.” Cal glances at me warily. “You and Maven are supposed to meet with Farley when we get to Archeon. You are going to have to warn her, and tell her the truth. All of it.”

I jump to my feet, shock coursing through me. “Have you lost your mind? Julian would understand, but Farley?”

“Farley will understand if you tell her the truth and give her proof.” Cal urges.

Sara and Julian watch our responses bounce back and forth like spectators at some sports match. It’s my turn to pace though, so I start wearing a trench into the floor, grabbing fistfuls of my gown as I do so. “Even if I did manage to get her to believe me, what are we going to do?”

“Elara doesn’t know that I know right?” He reasons with a tilt of his head. I pause my pacing to glance at him. He finishes buttoning up his jacket and nods at whatever plan is forming in his head. “She may think you are the only person that knows the future. That only you are here.”

“What are you talking about? If she’s seen my memories—”

“Then she’s only seen the ones formed before.” Julian jumps on the plan. His eyes dart between the two of us. “You would know if she was in your head Cal. And you are certain she has not looked. She has only seen your memories Mare. As far as she is concerned you are the only person with knowledge of the future.”

“Then why get rid of Cal tonight?” I wave a hand at him for emphasis. My fingers are still shaking, and my body still feels numb from the near death scare.

“You said so yourself. He plays a role in toppling her and Maven. Remove the tumor before it becomes cancer.” Julian offers with a shrug. Setting his hand on my shoulder, he gives me a tired smile. “You may still have a card up your sleeve. Go to… Farley, and get her to believe your story. Make a new plan, one that will put you back on track.”

How am I going to do that? How will I keep Maven in the dark? I’m smart, but he’s always been so much smarter than me, and with the knowledge Elara now has, the game has just become that much harder.

Cal rises on shaky legs, his expression cold. “Speaking of Farley, she might be done in the cells now.”

My blood goes cold and I blink stupidly. “But you didn’t catch her this time. She got away.”

“I didn’t catch her the first time. The Sentinels had already apprehended her by the time I caught up to them.” He nods to Sara and with a slow dip of his head whispers, “thank you, for saving my life.”

She smiles at him, a tiny weak expression but it lights up her face. She takes Julian’s hand and rises from her chair.

It feels good to have the two of them on our side now, playing the game with us. Maybe with them, we can actually win this time around.

[subjecta5newtella]

alright fuck it it’s been about a week the blinding rage has simmered down into a tasteful anger stew so I’m gonna talk about the crank palace a little. technically this is probably spoilery, but I don’t really go into specific plot points

there’s... a lot of shit I can point to that’s wrong in the crank palace. blatant contradictions to things in the original trilogy. pacing. weirdly explicit descriptions of violence. some truly baffling choices made when it comes to dialogue. newt forgetting glader slang for some reason? everything about how sonya and newt’s sibling relationship is handled, which is still probably something I can’t talk about without going nuclear so i’m just gonna direct you to point 4 on sami newtedison’s excellent post here. 

some of these things just make it hard to read and enjoy from a technical perspective, and some of them show that there wasn’t enough care taken to make sure basic established in-universe facts weren’t directly overwritten. while all of those are warning flags in their own right, the issue at the core of tcp is, in my distinctly less than humble opinion, that newt himself is barely a character in his own novella.

obviously at the point where the story starts, he’s not going to be the exact same newt we’ve seen throughout the trilogy. partly that’s because we’re now actually in his perspective, partly it’s because the flare is progressing so quickly, and that would create some understandable differences. the problem here is not just that he’s kind of different; the problem is he’s hardly an actual character at all.

one of The Most Basic things about characters is that their history has an impact on them. this is not fucking groundbreaking, but I say this because I literally do not think it’s achieved here. aside from his resurfacing memories (which... even then is basically all stuff we already know from tfc) we do not learn anything about newt that is not established in the trilogy, which is an incredible waste. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that when people have expressed interest in newt’s POV, it’s to get information we don’t have from the earlier books, like his time in the glade, conversations he had that thomas didn’t see, anything we couldn’t see or easily extrapolate from thomas’ perspective.

thomas in book 1 has no memories. newt, theoretically, has over two years of them at this point, so why doesn’t it feel like his pre-series past exists any more than thomas’ does? i’m not about to subject myself to a reread just to 100% fact check this, but I don’t think we get any meaningful recollection of his time in the glade before main series canon begins. there would’ve been plenty of opportunities for these kinds of things to be woven in naturally, but more crucially, there are a couple places where I think pieces of his past should have absolutely come up, and they just... don’t. 

newt obviously has leadership experience as the glade’s second in command, and yet in tst is very vocal about not wanting to be the leader. when he’s kind of thrust into a leadership position in tcp, both of those things should affect the way he acts, and yet they don’t really seem to. if we’re looking for places to sprinkle in memories, this would be a really good one. he could be thinking about the point at which he became alby’s second, the reasons he accepted, and the anxieties associated with that, all in relation to his current situation. in tcp, becoming the leader of the group of cranks is just... straight up something that happens to him because he was a WICKED subject, with no real internal strife about it. I do not like the vibe of this whole plot point anyway, but im not gonna get into that. 

in a similar vein, I swear to god dashner forgot newt used to be a runner, because there are times where it should have logically come up. there’s a point at which newt talks about minho as a runner while giving absolutely no indication that he himself also used to be one, even though during the situation in question it would be relevant for him to have the skills and memories of his time as a runner (you could argue this was forgotten in any meaningful way as of tst because a similar thing happens, but i’m not gonna go on that rant rn). this is a crucial fucking character piece! based on a loose timeline, newt was a runner until probably ~6 months before tcp. it should have an impact on the way he acts and the way he evaluates situations.

regarding minho himself, newt’s descriptions of him feel like he read the wikipedia page, not like this was a) someone he’s been through over 2 years of highs and lows with and b) one of his only surviving friends in the first place, let alone one of the only ones from that original group. and minho’s hardly the only one that gets fucked over. alby? newt’s best friend as of the first book, with whom he co-ran the glade and who literally saved his life? mentioned once, as part of a list of the dead. those are the two that immediately come to mind as deserving better based on the way we’ve seen newt interact with them previously, but none of newt’s dynamics with existing characters feel lived-in at all. I think that contributes significantly to the fact that he feels so off, and frankly, not really wildly compelling a lot of the time despite being one of the most interesting and well written trilogy characters (there’s also times where his dialogue is just... weird and ooc, but im trying to stay out of nitpicking to that degree).

and to what end?? was dashner just too lazy to write in anything more than what’s established after this long? was it because creating any too-meaningful relationships with other characters could potentially take away from the thomas/newt dynamic that it seems like he’s relying on in order to stay relevant? even for people who go hard for newtmas, I can’t imagine it could really be considered a bonus to have one character’s past and other significant relationships stripped away. also?? even though he mentioned thomas’ name a lot, I don’t feel like we got that much of a sense of a meaningful connection there either. 

there were parts I liked about tcp, which may come as a fucking shock at this point, but still. keisha was a good character, a good break from the mold in terms of anything we’d seen before in the series, and I did honestly appreciate some of her interactions with newt. some of the minor characters were kind of interesting, and there were a couple small pieces that were... surprisingly well written? i think in terms of word choice and description, his writing has improved from what we see in the trilogy, so there’s my positive feedback. also, newt bitching about the lack of fruit and vegetable offerings at the crank palace was objectively funny as shit. one of the most genuine moments of Personality in the whole thing.

this could have been something. I think some pieces would’ve worked well as a short story, in which case I wouldn’t have expected nearly as much in terms of characterization and utilization of backstory. instead we just get a lot of suffering and not much out of it, because the one thing that could’ve made it worth it was an actual deeper understanding of this character and I truly don’t feel like we got that. 

[euphoriatxt]

[11:11 AM]

as you looked at the sketch of the pretty boy on your phone, you couldn’t help but laugh as you took a bite from your bagel.

last night after finding an old gift card with $25 left on it, you had decided to contact a “psychic” for fun after spotting the advertisement on your feed. as you browsed through the list of services that were offered, you couldn’t help but notice the listing, “i will draw your soulmate in 24 hours” on sale for only $20.

you clicked on it, reading the description—it only required your full name and birthday. you looked at it skeptically, knowing you were already taking the risk of putting a virus on your phone after tapping on the sketchy ad. but in the end, you decided to do it anyways. you already gave your name and birthday to a bunch of other websites, and you weren’t dead yet. one more couldn’t hurt.

as you were on the bus to your university, scrolling through your email to see if there were any updates from your professor about the internship you wanted, you found nothing except old spam emails. you pulled down on your screen to refresh your inbox.

↻ [1 new email: YOUR ORDER]

you clicked on it without a second thought, thinking that it was just your order receipt, only to find a sketch of a man with big eyes and sharp features staring back at you.

your soulmate is a romantic at heart. you might not have a good first meeting with him, but he will prove to be a caring and doting partner as you get to know him. his love language is physical touch, so you will find him unconsciously reaching for your hands or clinging onto your arms every so often. he is quite active and enjoys exercising a lot, so don’t be surprised if he has a nice physique. he is an eloquent speaker and also has a beautiful voice. it is possible that he is a good singer or is a singer. you will most likely meet him within the next week, so try not to be too shocked. - thank you again for your purchase!

you were currently in the university cafe as you read and reread the email with furrowed eyebrows, a bagel, and a cup of coffee. this was far too good to be true.

your supposed “soulmate” was undoubtedly the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. his features were quite defined, with high cheek bones and a high nose bridge. he had relatively full lips with a shaded spot on his left side, which you assumed to be a dimple. you guessed the “psychic” based him off a book character or something.

you shrugged it off and shut off your phone, standing up from your seat to head to your first class. you bent down and grabbed your bagel with one hand as you held your coffee in the other, and turned around, only to collide with someone’s chest.

you stumbled back harshly and yelped, grabbing onto a chair to stop yourself from falling. you calmly set your bagel back onto the table and took a deep breath as you looked at the mess on your shirt. you felt the cup’s belongings run down your torso through your soaked shirt, dripping onto the ground to create a small pool. your coffee cup was slightly crushed as it lay on the ground, its lid not far beside it. while your bookbag avoided being stained by the coffee, your outfit was absolutely ruined.

“oh my god. i am so sorry.” the honeyed voice made you look up to confront your offender.

he was hurriedly grabbing a copious amount of napkins from the table, dabbing your shirt meticulously while spewing out a string of apologies. if it weren’t for your stained shirt, you would’ve found his actions cute. his styled red hair matched with his flushed face, which looked up at you every so often with a look of a concern.

“i am so so sorry, i didn’t realize you were heading in my direction at all,” he apologized again, crumpling up the used napkin in his hand.

you straightened up a bit from where you stood and laughed, “no, it’s okay, I didn’t see you either.” you gently grabbed the napkins from his hands, “i think i can take care of it.”

he stood up at full height and sent you an apologetic look. as you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but notice how he seemed familiar. “if you don’t mind, we can go to the campus store after this so i can buy you a new shirt.”

your eyes widened, “no, you don’t have to do that! i have enough money to buy my own.”

“i insist,” he urged, “it’s the least i could do after ruining your outfit.” he looked down and scanned the rest of your body, “i didn’t ruin any of your textbooks, did i?”

you adjusted your bookbag on your arm and hummed, “no, i don’t think so.”

“thank god,” he said, obviously relieved that he wouldn’t have to pay for textbook damages either.

you smiled up at him and found yourself admiring his features. he practically had a perfect everything. eyes, nose, lips... everything was in perfect harmony.

“so...” he drawled out, bringing you out of your thoughts. “are you ready to head to the store?”

you nodded, allowing him to lead the way out of the cafe. the walk there was far less awkward than you had expected as you easily started a conversation with him about your majors and what your usual routine was. he had the ability to make you laugh and smile effortlessly, as if you two were already friends. being with him was just easy.

suddenly remembering your first class you paused, “shit.”

he stopped his movements, “what’s wrong?”

“i forgot about my class,” you explained, hurriedly pulling out your phone from your pocket. as you checked the time, your face id unlocked your phone, bringing you face to face with the sketch of your “soulmate” once more.

your eyes widened slightly as you found a perfect illustration of the person who currently stood beside you. from the shape of his jaw to the curve of his nose, the resemblance was undeniable. you looked up at the red haired boy in front of you and back down at your phone a few times more to make sure you weren’t hallucinating.

he noticed your sudden apprehension and tilted his head at you, “do you need a ride to class?”

“um,” you quickly put away your phone, “what did you say your name was again?”

“oh, i didn’t, actually,” he said in realization. “i’m kang taehyun.”

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Study Buddies ~ H.D.

A/n: Yall really be liking Hamish huh? Lol we stan tbh.

Request: “Hi could I request a hamish duke x male reader where the reader is like the super studious person like always preparing for the next test or something and hamish starts liking him? Ps you are like the only person who does the order fics and I love that you do it because I love the order boys!!” by anonymous

Word Count: 3000+

Masterlist

Psychology was hard.

School was never one of those things that came easy to Y/n. He wasn't one of those kids who could sit there and give the bare minimum effort. He struggled to follow throughout an entire lecture because the sun was bright and the grass was really green and he knew it was a nice day outside today and... wait now he'd missed five minutes of class, dang it!

In college, five minutes was like missing three days of school. The topic was suddenly completely different and Y/n was lost and confused.

That didn't stop him from being a top student in each one of his classes though. He had always been proud of his grades and worked himself near death if necessary, if it meant getting an A. Not literally near death of course, that was dramatic.

Y/n had taught himself time management at a very young age. It had been the key to his success ever since. He slept and ate food - three meals a day - and even kept a job, taking every free moment he had to study his ass off so that he knew what was going on and could deliver the proof with those beautiful red A's on the top of each of his papers.

Y/n really did study so much to get those results though. On his breaks at work, between classes, before and after school, during meals and off periods. He even quizzed himself in the bathroom and the shower, checking to make sure he'd gotten it right when he got out. It was hard and tiring, but it meant that he succeeded every time, and that's what was important.

He was a good student. His psychology teacher's TA, Hamish Duke, was very appreciative of it.

Hamish was around a lot more than the teacher was. He taught lectures and even graded papers. This class had long since been seen as Hamish’s class, and that was perhaps why it was so easy for him to slip every conversation into the direction of Y/n. Hamish was proud of all his students, but most often his star pupil.

Hamish talked about Y/n constantly. Or, more accurately, his grades. Like a proud parent showing off his child, Hamish filled his friends' ears with rant after rant about his favorite student. The only student that seemed genuinely knowledgeable about the material. The only student as well who turned in his stuff early and asked questions rather than just listening, and seemed dedicated and focused on everything, as Hamish said.

One day during one of these rants, Lilith said something that changed everything. "He likes you."

Hamish jerked back, his face twisting in disbelief. "What? No he doesn't."

Randall snorted. "No, I have to go with Lilith on this one, Hamish. I have math class with Y/n and he doesn't pay attention at all. He's just a super nerd and teaches the stuff to himself in his free time."

"Some boy doesn't pay attention in any class but Hamish's?" Jack laughed. "Dude so has a crush on you."

Rolling his eyes, Hamish stood. "You guys obviously have no sense of respect. Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to- I already knew that." The trio laughed as Hamish walked away.

After that though, Hamish became hyper aware of Y/n. The boy had his eyes on Hamish nonstop. Every once in a while, he'd even mutter under his breath as he'd watch and Hamish realized after a while that he was watching so closely, he was subconsciously mouthing along with Hamish. Probably because he read the book on his own time as well. Which made Hamish wonder why Y/n ever came to class. If he read the book, was he just... adding some context? Insight? So he asked Randall about it.

"Y/n only comes to class about half the time. The entire time he asks questions, but it's never about what's happened in previous classes or anything- just clarification about what we're learning now. I think he's got some theories? I don't know, he likes to test the water and push formulas. Our teacher actually gets a kick off of it. Y/n makes math fun, and... well, it's math. We all get happy when he's there."

So he might have stayed consistent with his insatiable need to deeply understand everything he took part in, but there was something different about Randall's experience from Hamish's. First of all, Y/n had never missed even a single one of Hamish's classes. Hamish knew because he had a perfect attendance record, and Hamish and the teacher - Ms. Merrill - talked about Y/n around their discussion on the newest lesson plan, batch of tests or even homework.

While Hamish was trying to ignore the thought of Y/n's possible feelings for him and teach a lesson instead, Y/n threw him off by approaching him after class. "Mr. Duke, I was wondering if you know any good tutors. I've been really struggling with the stuff we've been going over recently.

Hamish quirked an eyebrow. "Your grades are almost perfect."

There was a small smile on Y/n's lips when he spoke next. "Unfortunately, grades don't reflect understanding. I can sense myself starting to struggle I don't want to depend on luck being as good to me as it has been."

"Surely you're being modest."

A light chuckle. "Well, yes. I never depend on luck. I have been making educated guesses though and crossing my fingers on the rest."

That Hamish could relate to. "I see. I have to say, I don't really know anyone doing as well in my class as you are. No one who seems to be getting it as well as you do at least. It's mostly your questions that seem to clear up a lot of things for everyone else." Y/n seemed to lose hope as Hamish spoke. Maybe it was the look of panic that caused Hamish to speak next. "Uh, maybe I could." Y/n's eyes widened. "I just- I mean, obviously I understand it a little better. And in a one-on-one setting, it'll be less a lecture and more teaching since I'll be able to take you through my understanding on a deeper level."

"You'd do that?" Y/n looked so hopeful...

Despite the little voice screaming at Hamish to run, he couldn't bring himself to. "Yeah. When are you free?"

"I work everyday except Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday. Wednesdays I have completely free but if you wanted to work around Tuesday or Saturday that would be fine." Y/n pulled out a pen from behind his ear. Hamish hadn't noticed it before.

Hamish shuffled. He felt awkward for some reason. Why did he feel awkward? "Wednesdays will be perfectly fine for me. Should I get your number so we can decide what time and place?" Y/n nodded before holding out the pen and offering... his arm. "You don't have paper?"

Y/n rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond not mocking. "I really have to get to work actually. Could you just-?" He motioned to his arm and Hamish shrugged before trying to be delicate as he inked his number on the inside of Y/n's arm. "Thanks! I'll call you." He turned and moved quite quickly out of the room before disappearing out the doors. It was only after Y/n was gone that Hamish realized he still had the pen.

It was fine, he could give it back when they met up to study later.

Later on in the day, Hamish was still struggling to understand why he was so excited for the Wednesday study session. I mean Y/n seemed really cool so maybe Hamish just wanted to be friends with him. That made sense. But right as Hamish thought he was finally over it, it popped back in his brain again and he felt weirdly jittery and unfocused. He kept having to reread the problem he was on because he would get distracted before he could answer it then forget what it was when he finally focused again.

Lilith snapped her book open. "Okay, what's your deal?" The other two boys looked over. Hamish was surprised when he went to look at who she'd snapped at and had seen them all looking at him. When he only looked back confused, Lilith rolled her eyes. "Come on Hamish spill the beans. You won't sit still and you keep looking outside like you're waiting for a package to arrive or something."

"The last time he got like that was when you took him online shopping and he bought a grey v-neck. He threw a party when it came." The tease came from Randall.

"The he cried when you threw up on it," Lilith recalled.

"He CRIED?" Jack's eyes widened in amusement.

"It made my eyes look really good and that stain never came out!" Hamish exclaimed, defending himself.

Lilith shut up the others as they began to laugh. "Anyway, what has you all messed up now?”

Hamish scoffed. "Nothing could be as cool as a gray v-neck. You still owe me a replacement by the way," he shot at Randall, who winked and grinned in response.

"Hamish," Lilith snapped.

Pursing his lips, Hamish hesitated. Then he sighed. "There's only one thing I've got planned and it's not a big deal." Everyone leaned forward. When he didn't explain Randall motioned him to continue. Hamish rolled his eyes. "Y/n asked for some help-"

"You have a date with Y/n?" Jack demanded, his grin already face splitting.

"It's not a date!" Hamish slammed his own book shut. "He just needs someone to study with. He seems to be struggling."

Randall snorted, wiggling his eyebrows. "Probably because he's so distracted by Mr. Teacher."

Lilith nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a study date to me."

Waving his hand to dismiss what they were saying, Hamish stood and moved to the bar. Maybe if he drank something he could make sense of the chaos. Both of his friends and the one that was made up of his emotions. He usually handled both plenty well but they seemed to be refusing to make sense today. "You guys are idiots."

Idiots or not, their words followed Hamish all the way to Wednesday. He and Y/n only texted once to establish the time and place and it was just as professional as their conversation in person had been, but that didn't stop Hamish's mind from going wild. For the first time since Cassie he felt... stupid. He didn't know what to do or say. He found himself wanting to text Y/n more, but couldn't find a reason to. Why was this messing him up so much?

Panicked, Hamish pulled Randall aside at the last second. "I am freaking out."

"Your thing with Y/n today?" Randall asked. Hamish just wordlessly nodded. Randall smiled. "You like him, don't you?" Hamish was stubborn, but he wasn't dumb. He closed his eyes, groaning. "You have for a while?" Randall continued. "Like even before we said anything."

Hamish thought about that for a second. He thought about Ms. Merrill teasing him about how much he talked about Y/n. How she would hand him all Y/n's papers and tests to grade. He thought about the smiles on people's faces when he mentioned Y/n at all. He thought of the warmth in his gut he'd passed off as pride this whole time but, on a second look, was obviously something more. "Yeah." He frowned as he focused on Randall again. "Why did it take me so long to realize?"

Randall smiled. "You're stubborn. Once you've set your mind it'll never be changed. Whatever it was - whether you mislabeled the emotion, or the relationship between you guys, or even you or Y/n as people. Once you labeled it, you weren't going to be swayed until someone forced you to."

"Thank you Lilith," Hamish mumbled, feigning bitterness. Randall laughed. After a second, Hamish asked, "What now?"

Clapping Hamish on the shoulder, Randall let out a heavy sigh. "Now you go to this study date and you woo the boy. Duh."

So that's what Hamish did. He met up with Y/n and recognized the swell in his chest when he saw him. The way his stomach twisted. Now that he knew what it was, he was nervous rather than excited. Why was it suddenly so hard to talk to someone once you liked them?

They were already acquainted. Y/n had seen Hamish in all kinds of conditions, if not all but his worst. They knew plenty about each other, if just in passing. They'd talked plenty of times. They'd even been alone a few times, in a setting just like this. Y/n had been there when Hamish had been a disaster while trying to adjust to fully teaching a class instead of just doing grunt work. He'd helped Hamish out even, instead of teasing him or messing with him like the others students tried to do. What did Hamish have to be afraid of? Y/n trusted Hamish with his grades and education, and that seemed to mean a lot to him. Hamish trusted Y/n too. To tell the truth. To guide and help when he was struggling, and to liven things up when it got boring. It shouldn't have been hard to just talk to him.

And yet.

Y/n placed a hand on Hamish's arm. "Hey, are you okay? You seem upset." Hamish looked at him and realized how close together they were. Not too close, like friends, but far closer than they'd ever been before.

He didn't know what possessed him. It would have been better to break the ice. Maybe bring it up casually and talk about it. Flirt or tease. Anything to transition or something. Hamish skipped all of that. In his little moment of panic, he just leaned in right for the kiss.

And Y/n jerked away.

Hamish nearly choked. "I- I'm so sorry-"

Blush swallowed Y/n's face. "You were going to kiss me, right? I didn't misread that?"

"Yes." Hamish white knuckled his pencil. "I should have lead into that. You just- have these really pretty eyes-" He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

"You... I'm sorry you just took me by surprise." Y/n rubbed his forehead. "Please don't tell me you thought I asked for your help because I liked you." Hamish's smile fell and he tried to find something to say, but Y/n looked uncomfortable and he was afraid he'd make it worse.  "Hamish, I meant what I said when I inquired for help. You suggested doing it yourself. I don't... like you like that. Honestly I'm about to take a short leave for a few days and didn't want to get behind so I thought I'd get some clarification on some things I've been studying on my own."

Hamish felt like an idiot. "Oh."

"Yeah," Y/n returned softly.

"I'm... so sorry," Hamish breathed out. "Honestly I was talking about you to my friends because I admire your hard work and good grades and how you engage in class and make it fun, and they messed up my head." He shook his head, trying to clear it. "How about we ignore all of that and focus on school? I'm sure you still need help."

Y/n paused, a smile growing on his face. "I'd like that. I don't think I could get anyone as good as you to help me with this."

The awkward tension passed in a few moments as they got absorbed in work. The problem was, as Hamish easily lost himself in teaching, Y/n was now the one who found himself distracted. Hamish had a really nice smile and the sun reflected off his eyes and hair and made him look like he was almost glowing. Y/n hadn't noticed it before, but now... thinking about Hamish kissing him. How Hamish might like him. Might have been thinking about him and wondering. Getting up the courage for this little thing, and how he hadn't run away to save his pride because he valued Y/n's need enough to push away his own feelings.

They parted on good terms, shaking hands after a pause. Then they gathered their stuff and went their separate ways.

Hamish refused to talk about the "date" with Y/n, no matter how much his friends begged and prodded. Not even Lilith could pry anything from him. When Y/n didn't show up for class, Hamish figured he was gone for his little break. A break that lasted for a week and a half. Every class without Y/n was super boring and seemed to teach no one anything. Students all stared at him like he was speaking another language, and everyone refused to ask any questions. No jokes or engagement at all. He understood what Randall had meant by everyone getting excited when Y/n came to class now.

It was right after the next class Y/n hadn't been at that the man himself suddenly appeared. He looked determined about something, walking to Hamish quickly. Hamish was at the back of the room, trying to pull himself together and lift his spirits as he worried yet again that he was maybe just a bad teacher and Y/n was the one who made people stay and come at all. It was then that Y/n barged in and walked right up to him, cutting him off int he middle of greeting him and asking what he needed to grab him by the shirt and pull him into a kiss.

Without hesitation, Hamish kissed back. He held Y/n's face as the other boy pulled them as close together as they could get. When they parted, they'd moved a little so that Y/n was sitting on Hamish's desk, Hamish between his legs. "Whoa," Hamish whispered, both stunned by the kiss and their current position.

Y/n exhaled a sharp breath. "You asshole. I've been thinking about you nonstop for MONTHS and you finally try and kiss me right when I'm getting over you. Then I'm gone and all I can think about is you again and I miss you and your stupid class and your hair and eyes and your voice and how much I wanted you to kiss me so guess who's back early because I need you to kiss me? GUESS."

Hamish chuckled, soft but for quite a while. Y/n shoves him, but before he can go off again Hamish is already kissing him for the second time. Both boys relaxed and melted into each other. "Hey," Hamish whispered.

"Hi," Y/n whispered back.

The older boy's thumb brushed over Y/n's cheek. "Let me take you on a real date."

Biting his lip to try and contain his smile, Y/n considered. "Only if you agree to be my boyfriend."

Hamish grinned. "Does this mean we can be study buddies all the time?"

"Will you distract me with kisses like you tried to last time?" Y/n asked.

Tilting his head, Hamish avoided answering. "Not... EVERY time..."

Y/n laughed, shaking his head. "Fine. Deal."

"Deal," Hamish agreed. And they kissed again to seal it. Finally.

[rokutouxei]

only this wonder remains

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark isaac newton/reader | gen | 2948 | [ao3]

or: the 5 times isaac tried to understand, and the one time he realized he didn’t have to. 

for my beloved friend @pathofcomets!

happiest, happiest, happiest birthday to the absolute kindest and most loving and most encouraging person i have ever met in my entire life! i may or may not have reread your isaac fics a billion times to get him quite like you like, and if i missed, at least enjoy the fact that um, i’m having apples today in (the both of) your honor? te iubesc, mama: thank you for joining me in this stupid crazy journey that is 19th century france with vampires.

--

(one)

isaac newton likes things set into order.

math, math is great—math is numbers and patterns and those things make sense and the order is there. physics too: everything in the universe has a set structure, and it’s all just figuring out what that structure is and what it entails. isaac newton likes things in neat rows in color-coded, labeled, square boxes in his mind.

and that is everything you aren’t.

which is why isaac doesn’t quite understand how he’s fallen in love with you so fast. emotionally, yes, sure, emotions, are, he supposes, a thing, but rationally? he doesn’t understand it. where he likes predictability, you are anything but. you are new dishes being served during dinners. you are excited squealing as you’re reading a book. you are catching his hedgehog (very nervously) from its hiding nook, after it was chased by the exponentially larger dogs. you are songs he’s never heard, songs from centuries in the future. you are wide eyes and open arms and isaac doesn’t understand.

but he adores it.

appreciates it.

the day after you’d decided to stay in the mansion, and the door had stayed shut throughout the rest of the fateful, crescent-moon night, vincent takes home with him a basketful of apple strudels, gifted to him by the lovely baker downtown.

you aren’t able to get one before dinner, but just right around midnight, you remember they are there. with a sudden burst of excitement, you pull at isaac’s sleeve until he accompanies you downstairs. your eyes shine like crystals in the kitchen light as you bite into the sweet bread—and isaac… isaac doesn’t know what to do with the warmth that fills him at the sight of it.

you turn to him quickly, offering him a bite. “you like apples, don’t you?”

the sound of dazai’s and arthur’s voices compound in his head, every single apple joke thrown at his direction over the past what-feels-like-a-million-years echoing in the caverns of his skull, taunting him.

but he doesn’t mind.

he doesn’t know why he doesn’t mind being unfolded like this, but he doesn’t.

he takes a bite of the strudel and sighs at the sweetness.

“it’s delicious.”

-

(two)

he tries, he absolutely tries his damnedest to sound nonchalant, but he fails. rather miserably, too. he’s still standing at the doorway of your room, hesitating to enter even when you’d already opened the door for him.

“where are you going?”

you finish twirling a lock of hair into place, before turning away from the mirror and toward him. “ah, comte’s taking me out dress shopping.”

again, he hears you nearly say; but then why are you still going? “don’t you have enough clothes?”

securing your earrings into place, you sit up from your dresser chair to approach him. “‘the most important of the labours of a high society woman in this late 19th century,’” you begin, “‘is to look beautiful.’ … that’s what le comte always tells me.”

“labours that you already fulfil,” isaac notes. the sudden admission makes you flush, so you pull him by the wrist and guide him toward the bed. now seated next to each other, you entangle your fingers with his.

“we’ll be back before dusk,” you try to appease him. “i’ll ask comte if we can do a detour at that bakery with the strudels we like.”

for a moment, isaac is silent; his hand twitches in yours as he considers. of course, he knows that comte means no harm. if anything, the worst is that comte is quite overbearing with how gracious he is at times. there’s no reason to be feeling this way, to be even doubting, he just wanted to ask if you wanted to come with him to the university library—he has to pick up a book he forgot to borrow, and maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of a picnic while you’re already out in the city, that’s all, you can always do that some time else, and so why is he—

he groans. by jove, why is this so hard. he turns and presses his face into the junction of your shoulder and neck; the fabric of your dress is in the way of the thrum of your pulse, but not quite thick enough so he still feels your warmth.

you laugh like it tickles, and he’s about to straighten up when you take his face in your small hands, holding him at eye level to you, your gaze so beautifully clear and bright. it’s as if no matter how hard he tries, with you he is see-through.

“i’ll make it up to you,” you say, pressing a little kiss at the corner of his lip, “…tonight.”

all at once, he doesn’t understand why the sour, sour feeling in his chest suddenly tastes so sweet.

-

(three)

you were radiant.

that was, to say the least. isaac wasn’t knowledgeable about fashion, not a bit. sure, he can vaguely tell what an “average” outfit is (cue the several lengthy discussions to alleviate confusion when sebastian had kindly gifted you with a few items of clothing to wear around the mansion that were, say, anachronistic) but trends and styles are beyond him. to him, if the clothes can protect him from the elements, they are enough, and doing their job.  

but seeing you out there in the ball room? made him realize that maybe… maybe that wasn’t the only point after all.

he’s wearing the most fashionable get-up for the night (because, alas, comte would not let a single one of his residents leave without the best of suits) and yet he feels so… underdressed, looking at you.

which is probably just about right, considering this is the party to celebrate your first year spent at the mansion.

(the first of many, he hopes.)

isaac returns to memorizing the details of your outfit. a beautiful silk gown in this sort of matte gold, embellished with swathes of intricate lace. the cut of the dress is made to accentuate your best features, and oh, the low scoop of the neckline, revealing your shoulders, emphasizing the milky skin beneath, maybe, a place to sink his teeth…

you’re off to a corner of the ballroom across him, engaged in discussion with mozart and theo while you’re holding a glass of alcohol. (he knows you enough to be nearly entirely sure it’s probably a non-alcoholic drink in your glass, just the right shade to seem like so.) mozart says something that makes you laugh, hand flying to your mouth.

(isaac seethes inwardly, wonders what the pianist could have said.)

theo makes eye contact with isaac across the room, and isaac quickly turns away from the man’s pointed smile. and because he does, he doesn’t get to prepare himself for when you inevitably approach him—having been goaded by theo—bumping isaac’s shoulders lightly.

he takes half a second to curse that wily little brother-obsessed man.

“won’t the great professor ayscough honor me with a dance?”

he doesn’t understand why, doesn’t understand why allows this—for him to be tossed and turned in a surge of emotions and thoughts and things he really hadn’t bothered to consider in the past, for him to be oh so irrevocably twined around your finger.

“what makes you think you can do this to my poor heart?” he whispers, and your laugh—oh, your laugh, fills him to the very core.

-

(four)

a part of him curses napoleon for saying it; another part of him thanks him.

the three of you were on your way back to the mansion after an afternoon teaching the kids in the city at the usual spot when napoleon had—rather absentmindedly, almost as if off-handedly—mentioned that the kids seemed to be more… obedient when you were around. you’d raised an eyebrow at him, explaining that you’re actually rather, say, awkward with kids. napoleon had shrugged the comment off, going on a tangent that they seemed to be more likely to follow instructions when it was you who’d call them out, as compared to him and isaac.

and then, the heaviest words in the world.

“maybe it’s because you’re like a mother to them.”

it was too early. you and isaac had never thought of kids and—you’d never really thought of anything, rather. there was only the now, and isaac found himself rather enjoying the pace. should he have discussed this with you already? was this of utmost importance? what if you didn’t want kids with him? what if you did? what does it mean—to do that? what changes? what stays? what—

“pfft,” you chuckle. “that’s only because the two of you are more like cheeky older brothers than teachers, you brats.”

after the corresponding laughter, the conversation soon swerved to other things. but isaac couldn’t leave it at that. instead, it lingered and clawed at his brain for the following days to no end, always making its presence known at the back of his mind whenever he’s thought it’s past him. he hadn’t thought of bringing it up to you because, again, it seemed like you’d taken the entire thing in stride, as you always do, with the grace and wisdom of someone literally beyond his time…

but most importantly, because he didn’t feel like he was ready to hear the answer quite yet.

alas, the universe does not wait for one to be ready for things.

the next time the three of you are downtown, you’re humming as you produce a little jar full of homemade candy as a reward for the children’s hard work of studying. (isaac huffs a little; it’s just calculus, it’s not so bad.) the enthusiastic children rush toward you, and you gently get to their level, squatting down and handing them two candies each.

isaac… is stuck into place, watching intently as you greet each child; you know them by name, know their nicknames; you match the candy appropriately to their favorite flavors, pat them on the head, ruffle their hair, pinch their cheek gently. you compliment the little flowers the girl has put in her hair, enthuse about how the three rag-tag boys look stronger than ever.

and isaac—well, he doesn’t understand why he knows but he knows: this, this is what happiness is.

your smile, the star-like shimmer in your eyes, the sound of your laughter intermingling with those of the children the both of you (!) are raising to be dreamers and thinkers of the future.

isaac is helpless; no science can explain this; unable to do anything but allow you to knock him to his knees like a beam of sunlight shot through the prism of his heart.

flooding his world in a spectrum of colors.

-

(five)

on one night you don’t feel entirely upright, you confide your deepest fears to isaac. these were fears he’d thought were to be expected—fears that made sense—but he hadn’t realized were actually hiding in your shadows. worries and frets about the uprooting from home, the time and the place of your existence. the weight of the knowledge of what comes in the future, the foresight of it. the instability—the unsureness.

isaac does not know what to do with all this. he cradles every word in his hands, holds them so carefully like they will shatter, feels each shaky intake of your breath sink underneath his skin like some sort of warning, some sort of premonition.

of the one day you might have to let her go.

of the one day you might have to do the right thing.

of the one day it will hurt.

of the one day. and you will never understand why.

but isaac is no longer afraid of them.

(he doesn’t know why yet, but he will soon.)

instead, he holds you in his arms in the silver glow of the moonlight, until your shaking stops. until you feel gravity settle you back onto the bed, just like all that isaac had written of it. until you press your face into his chest and sigh deeply. until your exhales feel lighter, like you’ve expelled all the thick fog that rested between your bones.

and isaac… isaac doesn’t know if he should ask, if he has the right to ask, if asking will make a difference, but the part of him that constantly wants to be able to understand things makes him, so he asks—

“what made you stay?”

and the answer is so simple, it’s rather silly how he doesn’t understand.

“because i have you.”

-

(+ one)

long before he had met saint-germain and had hidden away in the count’s mansion for silence, isaac newton was, ultimately, just a mere human: one that tried to make sense of the world around him, set them into categories and definitions that were easy to understand, and thus use. but a human nonetheless. and hundreds of years back, long before the turn of the century in paris, france, in the arms of the only woman he feels like he has ever truly known to really love, there was a little fairy tale he believed in: one that they’d called the philosopher’s stone.

a stone of ridiculous, preposterous qualities. it could turn simple metals into gold and silver. it could heal all and any sort of illness. it could make someone live longer. it could turn crystals into precious stones. it could revive the dead. it could make you immortal.

just by its mere existence, it could give someone the power to turn one thing into something entirely different.

and now, with the scientific development of the late 19th century—and even further, far into the future where you’ve come (he’d asked)—there is still no philosopher’s stone. the facts are in: it is not real, and centuries spent attempting to create this enchanted thing have led to not a single step toward proving its existence. it’s a powerful thing that is too great, it just isn’t allowed to exist.

that was what isaac thought, except as of late.

because maybe… maybe the power is already in human hands.

after all, what else would have given you the ability to make him like this? how else to explain all the miracles you’ve done: to fill the parts of him that used to be hollow; to heal him of the wounds he’d been putting aside; to revive the portions of his heart that he thought—and he’d kept—long dead?

to turn him into gold?

it is morning now, just past sunrise of september 1st, and you’re lying next to him on his bed, still fast asleep. just the sound of your even breathing fills him with a breathless joy it makes him feel rather stupid. the sheer fabric of your nightgown is not enough to hide the pink, red parts where he’d kissed and marked you last night. he wants to run his fingers through your hair, but doesn’t, lest he wakes you up.

he’d pledged his humanity aside for silence, and a space to think, and oh, have you given it to him.

this is what peace feels like, he thinks.

gently, he takes out of its hiding spot a rectangular box. opens it and takes out its contents: a pair of earrings (which he’ll give you later), and a lovely golden necklace studded with pearls; little flowers and suns down to the middle, where a hefty ruby glimmers deep blood red.

just like a philosopher’s stone.

he tries not to wake you, when he strings his little gift around your neck, but the movements jostle you, and just as he clasps it closed at your nape, you wake.

you turn to face your lover with “good morning” halfway out your lips when you feel the cool of the necklace on your bare skin. you look down at the intricate piece of jewelry, the smile uncontrollable on your sweet, still sleep-hazy face.

“isaac—”

“la mulţi ani,” he says—or, well, tries to say, as his tongue curves awkwardly around the words. he does sound rather close though: he must have practiced, and practiced, and practiced.

“thank you,” you say, sitting up to face him properly. “it’s beautiful. i’ll treasure this.”

isaac’s brain is on high speed—i’m glad she liked it, i was worrying, what if she didn’t like the design, then what about the earrings, should i have given her a ring instead? no a ring is too early, this necklace is just right, also fashionable for the times. i asked comte about it—it was so damned embarrassing but i asked him, and—but he silences it, quiets it down by taking her hand in his, presses a kiss on the knuckles gently with his lips.

and, as he always has been, and always is, and always will be—he stumbles for words, clumsily trying to make sense of the thunder-lightning rumbling in his chest, how he’s supposed to say thank you for all that you have given him, all that you have made him.

so instead, he presses your hand against his warm cheek that is a fresh apple red.

“my favorite merișor,” you tease, brushing the stray hair off his face before pulling him into a gentle, warm embrace. and, well, he’d wanted to ask what that meant, but he quickly realizes it doesn’t matter, as he tucks the unfamiliar syllables of your language in his heart.

it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t understand.

and maybe, just maybe, there are things that he never will really comprehend.

but it’s okay.

he can be that merișor.

as long as he is yours, he can be anything.

--------

[title came from could i love you any more by jason mraz & reneé dominique]

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: gloxinia 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: nanao taichi/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.2k words 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨: mullin, visibly cxnfused

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a cute surprise, and either reader is too observant or taichi isn’t as slick as he thinks  𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: this work is a part of the flower shop event, a series of unconnected flower shop AU one-shots

You couldn’t have predicted that within the five or so minutes you were gone, a surprise in the form of a flower awaited you.

For a short time frame, you had gotten up to scour the wooden shelves for a particular reference book you needed for your essay. It was relatively easy to find— though your school’s library didn’t have the biggest assemblage, the title was sought-after enough to have a few copies provided by the faculty. With little to no detour you immediately went back to the table you, and only you, occupied, only to become momentarily stupefied.

It was a bit of a sight to behold, not by its size but instead how it misplaced it looked against its backdrop— a striking shade of purple against the white, lined papers your notes were hastily written on.

For quite some time, you inspected it as though it was a foreign entity; in truth, you recognised nearly every aspect of it. From the filler baby’s breath accenting the singular flower, to the white tissue papers wrapped the flower, to the dainty little ribbon with a flower shop’s name tying the whole thing up nicely.

Everything was familiar about it save for one thing— the addresser.

You pulled out what would surely be a hint to who sent it, a letter, maybe even a name that would designate the flower surely wasn’t for you.

Somehow, the sight of the pastel yellow paper made your cheeks flush more than the flower itself. Despite not having read anything yet, holding the heart-shaped origami envelope between your fingers made you realise that, yes, there was a pretty high chance that someone meant to give you these— that someone liked you enough to give you something with romantic intentions, albeit not in person.

As you unfolded the envelope, you couldn’t help the quiet giggle that left your system. Five words, as simple as they were, were enough to draw a smile upon your face as you found yourself rereading the slightly messy handwriting several times over.

I like you a lot!

Head shooting up, you scanned the room for anyone who could have possibly placed it there— if not him or her, at least an accomplice? To your disappointment, you doubted the people in the mostly vacant room had anything to do with it.

Doing your best to fold the paper back to its original design, you pondered what to do next— what would happen next. Was this just a one-time thing? Were they going to do something again? Would they actually confess to you?

Beyond giddiness over a potential admirer, it was hard not to feel curious over a guy who gifts you a flower from the very same flower shop you part-timed in.

…

As two weeks go by without a noise from them, you figured they had either planned that to be a one-time, doing this to move on thing, or perhaps that the whole thing was some elaborate, weird joke by someone in school.

It was pretty clear to you they didn’t want to be found, if you were to base it on the fact that they gave you no clues to their identity whatsoever, save for their handwriting and the fact that they knew some degree of origami. If they even made it themselves.

… well, technically you could just ask your boss about the appearance or anything of who bought that particular bouquet but that didn’t seem very moral of a choice.

Honestly, you didn’t think you’d ever find out who gave it at this rate,

until you did.

Undeniably, the way you put two and two together was incredibly anti-climatic and all around simple.

“Taichi-kun, do you want to split the work? Like, me doing odd and you doing the even numbers?” he seemed to tense up the moment you talked to him, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you had said something wrong. Maybe he wasn’t that good with this particular topic? You couldn’t say it was your favourite lesson either, so maybe it would be better to just help each other out?

“Actually, we can answer it together too! We have the time,” you added quickly, looking at him to gauge his reaction. Without any time spared for you to worry, he seemed to instantaneously beam like the sun, a warm glow accompanying him, cheeks dusted with red, a few shades lighter than his hair.

“Yeah! Let’s work on it together!” his exclamation caught you off-guard— it was unusual for someone to act like an excitable puppy over a 20 item math pair-work worksheet of all things, but all the same it was quite adorable!

You pushed your desks together so the both of you could answer the paper properly, barely any side by side distance between the two of you save for the wooden chairs which you two sat on.

The realisation wasn’t gradual. Actually, it was rather immediate— perhaps you’d spent too much time staring at the 5 words he wrote down, but the moment he started writing both of your names on the paper you already knew it was him.

You’d be lying if you said the initial appeal of this, whatever this was, wasn’t the idea of someone liking you; now that you were 99% sure it was Taichi, however, the feeling of delight and thrill didn’t go away whatsoever.

He hardly knew you, you were sure of that much! You definitely barely knew anything about him, too, save for a few instances where you’d work together as a group or through unintentionally eavesdropping here and there.

… but while you couldn’t (immediately) reciprocate, you couldn’t deny wanting to get to know the guy who gave you a flower with that kind of meaning, whether he knew it or not.

“Taichi-kun, you’re good at origami, right?” you mentioned suddenly, not failing to notice how your seat mate seemed to perk up like a puppy’s ears would. Cute? Was he always like this?

“W-wait, you noticed?!” as soon the words left his lips he began to fumble, trying and failing to take back his words before settling for just straight-up admitting to it. “Ehe, I think I am! If you request something, I can make it!”

His moment of confidence rendered a smile out of you, although… since he offered… perhaps you could take the chance to do one last verification? You momentarily wanted him to make the litter heart envelope you’d been cherishing quite recently, but perhaps that was too simple.

“Can you do flower origami?”

“Yep! Tulips, lotus flowers, lilies, you name it!”

“Wahh, that’s cool! How about—“ the moment the name of the flower left your lips, Taichi’s pen nearly fell from his fingers. His face had already gone as bright as his hair, but you couldn’t help but tease him, at least one last time.

“We had them at the flower shop I part-time in,” you could practically see the cogs in his head turning the more you talked, until he let out a noise with semblance of a whine and a gasp the moment the name of your workplace escaped your throat.

Though you weren’t the most confrontational or assertive of people, you really couldn’t help yourself— a little teasing side of you opened up from trying to match his vibes.

It was as though, despite the multiple sources of noise coming from all directions, your mind only focused on the two of you, and how else your relationship would continue from today.

“ thank you for your hard work today at the flower shop! here, feel free to take home this gloxinia with you~ ”

【 gloxinia 】 love at first sight

“ maybe you’d like some more flowers before heading home? ”

-ˋˏflower shop masterlistˎˊ- |  -ˋˏfic masterlistˎˊ-

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i didn’t mention what flower was given by taichi because i’m a dummy and forgot gloxinias were more of potted/house plant flowers- as in, i don’t know if they can be in bouquets/sold per piece? oopsies~

[the-yellowturtle]

The Curious Case of Master Katara (Pt.3)

Summary:  In the sixth year of Fire Lord Zuko’s reign, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe is assassinated. (OR: Katara Becomes the Painted Lady! AU)

Chapter Summary: Sokka reacts to Katara’s passing. 

Part 1 (Toph), Part 2 (Toph & Gran Gran), AO3 Story Link, & special thanks to @levitatingbiscuits for enabling this :)

The Surprising Origins of the Squiggle Meme

Xin Jizhe

Omashu Times News Reporter

You’ve seen it. Your mom has seen it. Spirits, even your pet fire-ferret has probably seen it! The latest comparison meme that’s often paired with the caption, “Ink Brush Painting is My Passion” is everywhere! However, the origins of the painting are much more heartfelt than you could have ever imagined.

The physical copy of the painting is currently hosted in the Caldera City Art Museum as part of the “Heroes of the Hundred Year War” collection. According to the museum’s website, it was painted by Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe as an outline for the paintings that would appear in his picture book about his younger sister, Master Katara, who had been assassinated by extremists in 106 AG. The paintings used in the published copy of the story are also available for viewing in the Caldera City Art Museum.

(Fun Fact: The official versions were painted by his wife, Suki of Kyoshi Island. Yes! That Suki! The one and only President Suki that fought for Kyoshi Island’s right to self-determination, and became the third president!).

Anyway, back to the matter at hand! Sokka reportedly decided to publish the picture book about his sister as a reaction to the growing popularity of a woodblock print that depicted Master Katara in her last moments. Sokka wanted the world to remember his sister as she was living, not a romanticized image of her death.

Try to see this touching meme in real life before the collection ends this spring.

___

When Sokka hears from one of the shaken villagers that after being shot Katara vanished into thin air, he gets an inkling about where she really is. When another local presents the pendant of Katara’s necklace to him, the sinking feeling in his gut tells him that his suspicions may be correct. And when he gazes up at the full moon later that night, he knows for certain.

Katara is gone.

He doesn’t need to travel to the Spirit World to know this. It has happened before. Before his very own eyes and between his very own arms. Some people are not destined to rejoin the earth; some are destined to be among the Spirits. He can only hope that she didn’t suffer too much in her last moments; that it was quick.

When he looks up at the moon, up at Yue, he pleads, “Please take care of her for me.”

Yue is probably far too busy being a beautiful celestial goddess to listen every time he talks to her, but he thinks she’s listening this time. She has to be.

___

Sokka was in the Southern Water Tribe on break from his studies in Ba Sing Se when word came that something had happened to Katara in the Fire Nation. Something that had warranted a personal letter from the Fire Lord, and had turned Zuko’s normally pristine penmanship into a barely decipherable mess. Katara was missing.

Truthfully, at the beginning of the letter Sokka was not worried at all. Zuko had a knack for worrying and exaggerating, and Sokka was certain that Katara would be back from wherever she had wandered off to before he could even set sail for the Fire Nation. Katara had probably found some wayward child or koala-sheep that needed assistance along the way, and she was so caught up in being benevolent that she forgot to hawk Zuko.

But then his dad and him had gotten to the part of the letter that informed them eyewitnesses were claiming that Katara had been attacked. That someone had shot her with an arrow. That they had watched her be struck, fall back into the river, and never rise again. That Katara was missing. That Katara might be dead.

It took more than one person to restrain him from immediately running off to the Fire Nation. Not that dad was any help, frozen, rereading the words over and over and over again. Katara might be dead .

When preparing to depart from the Southern Water Tribe, Sokka had promised his family that he would bring Katara home safely. That he would find out what happened.

He only manages to keep one of his promises. And it’s the one he cared for the least. When his dad and Gran Gran meet him at port, red-eyed and bags heavy, they know with one glance at Sokka’s face.

“She’s gone,” Gran Gran states, gripping his arm.

Sokka presses the carved pendant into his father’s hand. “She is.”

___

At first, it’s easy to pretend. With all the international guests and foreign dignitaries flocking to the Southern Water Tribe to personally pay their respects, it’s easy to slip into the role of being just Sokka. There are people to accommodate and details to smooth over. The South needs a planner, so Sokka becomes the mastermind.

It becomes a mask he slips on and off. One moment he is only Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, the next he is Katara’s brother. When it becomes too much, one of their friends is there to comfort him or one of the guests is there to exasperate him. It’s easy at first; ignoring that nothing is ever going to be the same.

All things must come to an end, however, and the funeral is the same. The world must continue onwards, and gradually all of their friends return to where they are needed. When it’s only Gran Gran, dad, and him left, that's when the cracks begin to show.

It’s in the way that Gran Gran accidentally burns the sea prunes because she thought someone would be watching them when she was turned away. It’s in the way that dad leaves official correspondence from the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom off to the side of his desk because he thought someone else would be looking over them. It’s in the way that Sokka reaches into his pocket and is surprised to find a necklace pendant because sometimes he still thinks that she’s somewhere out there wearing it.

Their family already had cracks, but now they no longer had the glue as well. After their mom passed away, Katara had taken it upon herself to be what everyone had needed. An eight-year old had done everything she possibly could have to fill the gaping hole their mom had left. At twenty-two years old, Sokka still has no idea how she found the strength to do that. But Katara is gone now, and the cracks in their family have transformed into an unmeasurable crevasse.

___

Sokka quickly learns the crevasse encompasses the entire Southern Water Tribe. This becomes abundantly clear one afternoon when three of Katara’s students confront him at the docks.

Akia, the shortest of the three and a refugee from the Northern Water Tribe, speaks first, “Sokka, we have a request.”

“Sure, what’s up?” he responds, setting down his catch.

The three young women exchange glances before Aqpik, from one of the interior clans, says, “We were wondering if you would allow us to enter Master Katara’s private study.”

Sokka freezes. No one in their family has been in there since her passing. “Why would you need to do that?”

“Spring is coming, and that means so are the seasonal waterbending students. We need to be prepared for when they arrive, and Master Katara always kept the lesson plans and personal scrolls in her study,” Akia pleads.

He begins to respond before he’s abruptly cut off by Mirae, a mixed waterbender of Water and Earth descent. “Master Katara fought long and hard to revitalize Southern bending, we can’t let it die with her. We were all so close to being declared masters, and we can continue the tradition in her stead. We need to do this.”

Meeting her determined gaze, Sokka knows immediately that this conversation was only for propriety’s sake; Mirae would most definitely break in if his answer was anything but the one she wanted. It’s a look he had seen so many times on Katara’s very own face. He had been so caught up in remembering Katara as his sister that he had forgotten that she was so much more than that to the South. She was the one who had painstakingly travelled the world to bring back the South’s stolen heritage, and Sokka would never be able to live with himself if he was part of the reason her efforts became in vain.

“Of course, you can,” he replies, “But first there’s something I need to do.”

___

In the Southern Water Tribe, when someone passes away you offer them to the sea along with an assortment of their earthly possessions. The objects that would feel wrong for any other to use are submerged with them, and the objects that would be a shame to waste are passed on to those who need it most. There is no fear surrounding the usage of things the deceased have touched; to use one of their belongings is to honor their memory.

This ceremony is an essential step in the mourning process of the South, but the most important by far is the telling of stories. For it is through stories that a person’s life is truly seen and celebrated. It is through stories that they are remembered and may continue to be remembered generations after they are gone.

Sokka has a feeling that the stories about Katara will be told for so long it will become impossible to discern myth from truth. A part of him is satisfied knowing that others will appreciate the person she was long after he is gone, however, they will never have the privilege of actually knowing Katara. Future generations will hear about the Hundred Year War, the Avatar, and the restoration of Southern Bending, but they will never learn about the time she broke her wrist penguin sledding as an adult . They will remember Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, but they won’t remember Katara.

No, remembering Katara is up to them. It’s up to Sokka and Gran Gran and dad and the rest of the gang to remember who she was. This is why the night after his conversation with the waterbenders, Sokka brings Gran Gran and dad with him to go through Katara’s study. Katara may have been the glue of the family, but this does not mean that Sokka can’t be the rope.

At first, it’s quiet as they work together to sort through the rest of her belongings. Unsurprisingly, she had meticulously organized everything. The waterbending scrolls are divided by style and skill level, the letters by country of origin and sender, even the hanging art is suspended according to the changing of the seasons. Sokka feels antsy just looking at how neat it is.

Dad is the one to break the silence. “She’s always been like this,” he comments, looking around the room, “Even as a toddler, she was extremely insistent on things being returned to their proper place.”

Gran Gran chuckles. “I wouldn’t say always , Hakoda. She could get pretty messy at times.”

“I’m gonna have to disagree, Gran Gran. Even as kids, Katara would only get messy if she had a statement to make. Didn’t like the way I folded my clothes? Then she would throw them about. Didn’t want to go to bed? Then she would refuse to get washed.”

“Ahhh bath time, that was always such an adventure with you two,” Dad smiles.

Sokka scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I was the best bather! Katara was the one who would get water all over the place”

“Sokka,” Gran Gran grins, patting his shoulder, “You would run around naked and we would have to catch you. In Winter . Thank the Spirits, you never attempted to go outside.”

The conversation goes on like this for hours; the waterbending scrolls forgotten. They laugh and cry and tease and debate. They remember.

When the embers are low and the sun is on the horizon again, Sokka reaches into his pocket and freezes. The pendant.

He hesitates before slowly pulling it out and tracing the carved waves with his finger. “Gran Gran? Dad? Do you think we should have submerged this, too?”

It was often a thin line between deciding what objects were inseparable from the deceased, and what objects the living could not bear to part from. When the time had come to select the belongings for Katara’s funeral, Sokka had found himself unwilling to hand over the necklace. There was no object more symbolic of who Katara was as a person, Sokka was well aware of that. However, for as long as he could remember, Katara had always been there. Even when they were far apart with her scouring the world for Southern waterbending scrolls and him in Ba Sing Se furthering his engineering studies, they had written constantly and made frequent trips to visit each other.

Katara was his sister; she would always be his sister. He knows she is gone, probably gallivanting about the Spirit World with Yue and telling Spirits how to do their jobs, but he needs to hold onto this piece of her. Just for a little bit.

“No,” Gran Gran finally answers, “We shouldn’t have.”  Sokka meets her unwavering gaze. “That necklace has always been worn by women with the conviction to do what was right. Surely, Katara will not be the last.”

___

Gran Gran , Sokka thinks to himself as he watches his daughter from afar flip one of the Northern boys over her shoulder, really was always right. Some parents would probably be concerned that their child is getting into fights during the Winter Solstice celebration, but if Sokka may say so himself, he and Suki are excellent parents and that boy most definitely deserved it.

Sokka’s instincts are proven to be correct when Senna comes to join him and Suki where they are waiting to watch the waterbending performance.

“That was a good throw, sweety. Great form,” Suki compliments, hugging their daughter to her side.

Senna huffs at the reminder of the event and promptly launches into what happened. “Those little tiger-seal shit eaters were saying Yuki shouldn’t have been given the main role because apparently it’s only for girls ,” she rolls her eyes, “So I informed them that eating snow is only for narrow-minded, sexist boys, those fucking iceholes.”

Being interested in architecture and mathematics, people often assume that Senna mostly takes after him in looks and personality. But the focus, fighting and cussing? That was all Suki. And the ferociousness for justice? That was most definitely from Katara.

He likes to think that she would be immensely proud of his daughter, the new owner of her necklace, for never backing down. Sokka certainly was. He’s sure that she would also be overjoyed to know that the storybending performances she had revived were flourishing and that her nephew had worked his butt off to earn one of the main roles. Funnily enough, the role of Katara.

Yuki had been nervous, going over his routine again and again these past few days to make sure it was perfect. He had only managed to calm down when Suki had given him her protective amulet for good luck, and Sokka had reassured him that Aunt Katara would be honored by his performance no matter what.

When the storybending officially begins, Sokka can only beam with pride as he watches his son flawlessly reenact the freeing of the earthbenders. Yuki has certainly come a long way from accidentally splashing his sister to manipulating a stream of water to look like coal soaring through the air. He wishes Katara was alive to see it, but a part of him gets the feeling that she knows.

Sokka is aware that the Painted Lady is out there somewhere running around trying to help those in need, but on nights like this when the moon is bright and the sky is full of lights, he gets this feeling . Even if he can no longer meet her, sometimes it feels like she’s still there.

So when the performance is over, and the kids are finally off to bed, he takes a moment to gaze up at the full moon. “I’m happy, I hope you are, too.”

[chim-chimchii]

Darling (Namjoon)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Requested: Nope but requests are always open unless stated otherwise

Note: I wrote this a while back and it was originally supposed to be a Valentine’s Day drabble but I changed it. Also idk how active I’ll be for the next couple of days because my mental health isn’t good right now..

.......

Though it was your’s and Namjoon’s anniversary, you didn't want anything more than to just lay around with your boyfriend, eat treats, watch cheesy movies and exchange gifts but you couldn't because the world just had to be cruel and both of you had to work.

Of course your shift was only a couple hours long but Namjoon liked to lock himself in his studio for hours and sometimes he forgot about everything else in the world. So when you came home to an empty house, you knew it was going to be one of those nights again. You sighed and slipped your shoes off and shuffled to the bathroom to take a quick shower before making dinner that Namjoon would probably eat later. 

As you waited for the water to warm up you scrolled through your messages and reread the text he sent to you around lunch. "Happy anniversary, my love. I promise to make this day up to you when we both have a day off. I love you. See you soon!"

You smiled at his worded promise and set your phone down and got in the shower. It was hard to find time for your relationship but you both always made it work and that's what made you happy. And Namjoon always kept his promises so that just made everything okay.

Your phone began to ring the moment you stepped out of the shower. You immediately answered it when you saw your boyfriends face on the screen.

"Hi Joonie." You answered. You could just picture his dimpled smile at the nickname he loved.

"Hello Love. Are you home?" You nodded as if he could even see you.

"Mhm. I just got out of the shower." You attempted to dry yourself off while still on the phone.

"Do you think you could come by the studio and bring me my overnight bag?" Your heart dropped. Was he really going to stay at the studio tonight?

"Yeah, of course." You tried not to sound too upset.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would do without you. I'll see you soon then?" You hummed in response. "Make sure you bundle up and come quickly. I miss you." He responded with a lighthearted chuckle.

"I'll see you in a few." And with that you both hung up.

...

You rushed up to Namjoon studio with his heavy overnight bag in hand. A part of you had already forgotten about the issue but there was still that small part of you that was upset. Your anniversary wasn't really that important so why were you getting worked up?

You sighed at yourself and opened the door. Your eyes were on the floor as you took your shoes off but once you looked up to enter you were shocked. There were pink and white balloons everywhere and there he was, your boyfriend standing there waiting for you with a bouquet of roses. You set his bag on the floor next to the door and ran to him.

"You said we weren't going to make a big deal about today." He held you tightly, his laugh vibrated your whole body.

"How could I possibly not make a big deal out of today when I have you in my life? A whole day dedicated to celebrating and showing my love for You? Sign me up. I know I wasn't around for the whole day but you had to work and I technically did too but you're more important." You held back your tears and stood on the tips of your toes to kiss him.

"Thank you so much. This means the world to me.."

Namjoon smiled sheepishly at your words before glancing over to his bag. "I have a couple more surprises." He snatched his bag from the floor and sat down in his chair before motioning you to sit on his lap.

You held the flowers and sat with him and watched as he opened his bag only to pull out a book.

"I've been writing in this for awhile. I started it the day I first realized that I was in love with you." He opened the book and you both flipped through the pages filled with his neat handwriting, small doodles and candid pictures of you.

"Namjoon..." a couple tears fell onto the pages.

"Please don't cry, Darling." He wiped your tears away.

"I'm just so happy." You choked out.

He moved your head to rest on his shoulder as he opened a track on the computer.

"I also made this song for you. Music is a huge part of my life and now that you're in my life also, I feel like you're my muse. You help me create music by just being with me and that's all I have ever wanted out of life. You make me happy." Namjoon held your hand and brought it up to his lips as the song he created for you brought the two of you to tears and your hearts closer together.