#i sat there for a good fifteen minutes at least waiting for the bus and THEN it was getting way too close to my exam time and

[luvrodite]

you guys. you will not believe the day i’ve had and it isn’t even mid afternoon

[skrrts]

the bus at 11:17PM (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x yunho ✧ genre: non-idol, slice of life, crush on a stranger ✧ word count: 1,6k

every thursday, you wait with a handsome stranger for the bus at 11:17 pm. today, you intend to finally approach him.

a/n: how to write drabbles? this was meant to be short but oh well. thank you yuyu for all those pictures

As you stepped outside of the building, your gaze went up to the night sky, and you admired how the rain clouds had vanished, the moon shining boldly, fighting the fake lights of the city.

“I guess I won’t need that one,” you said, dropping the small umbrella into your bag and stretching a little.

Taking a long language class every Thursday after work was still challenging, your lazy nature asking why you couldn’t just go home early instead of trying to learn a language you had been interested in for years.

All your attempts to teach yourself with YouTube videos had failed horribly.

“Y/N, are you sure you do not want a ride home? I really do not mind taking a detour, it’s late.”

Yeosang’s pretty face appeared next to you, leading you to look back at him.

You shook your head, smiling: “No, it’s okay. I like taking the last bus; it’s nice to ride without all the crowds I deal with every morning. And besides, I really do not live too far away, it’s just ten stops, and I will be right at my apartment complex.”

There was a small hint of worry. The two of you sat next to each other in language class, and he had been a great help, far more advanced than you were after years of failed self-study.

“Alright, get home safely. I’ll see you next week,” he bowed and waved before turning around to follow the other students to the parking lot.

You were a little surprised to learn you were the only one who did not have a car. It just didn’t feel convenient in the middle of a large city, not to mention the costs tied to it — money you’d rather invest in something you enjoyed.

Then, there was another reason. As you walked to the nearby bus station, you could feel your heartbeat increase and held your breath in anticipation as you stepped around the corner.

It was on the day of your first language class that you saw him for the first time, waiting for the same bus as you. The tall and handsome stranger looked up and flashed you a sweet smile before focusing back on his phone that day. You felt silly and shy for glancing at him the entire time, even when you reached your station and had to go.

Then, you told yourself it was fine — who didn’t do that with a stranger? But to your delight, he was there every Thursday, waiting in silence not too far from you.

His presence was comforting. The street was quiet and empty, but with him there, you felt safe. It sounded strange, considering you didn’t know anything about this man. Maybe it was his tall frame or the way he was so relaxed, giving you a feeling of security.

He was always dressed casually but still elegant, and you wondered if he worked somewhere around here, spending hours imagining what kind of job he held.

Your language class was about to end in three weeks, and you knew you were likely running out of time. If you intended to learn at least his name, you finally needed to find the bravery to approach him.

Your heart skipped a beat as you could see him standing there once again! He was looking good today too. White and black suited him so well, but this was the first time you saw him wearing glasses. Did he need them? Was it a choice of style?

Your bus always left at 11:17 PM; you had about fifteen minutes to change your life!

Fine, you just tried to hype yourself up to finally find the courage to do something.

Unlike all those other Thursdays, you decided not to sit down but instead stood quite close to him, looking casually at your watch like you actually just wanted to check the time.

While you used a backpack because it was simply more convenient, you carried one of your language books around today, hoping it would make you look just a little more interesting.

All those scenes from your favorite romance series flashed into your mind, where the protagonist just stood cutely at the station and the romantic interest would approach them just like that.

It would be ideal, but there it was again — your imagination running wild, just like when you thought how nice it would be to learn another language but didn’t manage without the help of a teacher.

You gave him a quick glance, but for some reason, the stranger was more engaged with his phone than usual.

He didn’t even give you that sweet and quick smile you had gotten used to because he always greeted you like that when you joined him, waiting for the bus in silence.

Did he ever think about that stranger who only showed up here on Thursdays? Was he maybe quietly asking himself what you were doing here so close to midnight?

Maybe it was better not to know; you would just be disappointed.

As you were lost in thought, you did not realize how your time was already up — not until the bus arrived, a little faster than usual. When it braked, the rain puddles splashed at you, covering not only your book but also your clothes.

The soft noise of surprise was followed by a hiss, and you stared at your outfit.

You intended to approach him today, so you had put more effort into your appearance, wearing some of your favorites pieces, which were now covered in dirty rainwater.

For a moment, you fought back tears, now embarrassed by how you had imagined your life turning into a silly romance movie when you should be more mature than that.

What made you think this would work?

“Are you okay?”

The voice next to you was foreign, but when you turned around, you saw the stranger looking at you with worry. The bus driver hissed to get in if you didn’t want to stay.

Your crush gave the old man a small glare before he quickly smiled at you, indicating for you to get in. After a moment, you blinked but hurried inside. The doors shut, and the bus station was slowly disappearing.

The stranger was standing beside you, pulling out a package of handkerchiefs from his bag.

“Here, it probably won’t help much with the clothes but the book.”

You stared at it, blushing.

“Oh, yes! Thank you!”

You accepted it with a slight bow and tried to clean off your book, you felt his gaze still on you. As you looked up, he offered a soft smile.

Realizing you did not answer his question yet, you said, “I am okay. It was my fault… I should not have stood so close to the street.”

But he was quick to shake his head.

“No, he drove too fast; it wasn’t your fault. He should be more mindful. Here, let’s sit.”

Your cheeks were red, and you weren’t sure if the heat was from being shy or embarrassed, but your body just acted, and the two of you settled on two of the seats.

“I have seen you a few times; I guess you visit the language school nearby? Ah, I am Yunho, nice to meet you. I believe you get out at Parkroad Station?”

You were surprised to learn that he did pay attention, not only to what kind of book you carried or that he did notice you after all, but also which station was your destination.

“Oh yes, I am almost done though; there are just two more lectures and it will wrap up. I was thinking about taking the next level entry though!”

Your words were rushed, and he chuckled.

“Learning a new language is good fun! I’d encourage it if you are enjoying yourself.”

He really was sweet, trying his best to cheer you up although you were strangers. Finally, you offered him your name and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

This wasn’t how you had imagined approaching him, but now you were just glad the two of you finally talked.

“I … noticed you too, but I admit, I was too nervous to say hi. It was nice; I felt safer waiting for the bus so late, knowing I’d not be alone,” you mumbled softly.

Yunho seemed surprised before smiling back.

“Same here. We always have a team meeting on Thursdays, but I am the only one without a car… it’s nice to know I am not alone taking the bus.”

“Oh, I feel that! Everyone at my language class takes a car except for me.”

The two of you laughed, but you realized your station was coming up soon.

Yunho looked at you before opening his bag again and pulling out his business card. You weren’t surprised to see he was head of his department — he really seemed to be kind and smart.

“It’s late, and you should get home, dry up, but maybe … we could meet for a coffee? You could tell me more about your lessons and how you like the school. I was thinking about studying a new language myself.”

You carefully put it between the pages of the book.

“I will make sure to text you my number once I am home… and I’d love that. I’m off on weekends, whenever you are available.”

“Same here. I will call you tomorrow?”

The two of you looked at each other with a smile before your station was announced, and you pushed yourself up.

“I am looking forward to it,” you bowed, and this time, you were quite sure to see how his ears were just a little red.

As you stepped outside of the bus and turned around, Yunho had moved over to a window seat; he was waving to you until you were no longer in sight.

“Wait… is that a date?!”

[fanatic-writers]

Dinner Dates

Part two to Lunch "Dates" A/n: I'm getting back in the swing of things, let me know if you guys want more of this. I was thinking on writing some other fics in the same universe but they might not 100% connect. This one does require reading the first part though! -G

Word Count: 2090

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Warnings: Unedited cause I'm lazy

Summary: You work as a conservator at the museum Steven works at, regularly sneaking him in on your shared lunch breaks so he can see the artifacts he’s so fond of and occasionally get his help on things (even if you still have to call in a “professional”). But what happens when Steven gets fired and then goes missing? Who’s supposed to accompany you on your lunches? And why do you miss him so damn much?

You were deep in your thoughts at work, carefully removing a layer of dirt and dust from the same papyrus you’d shown Steven weeks ago. You sighed as you dabbed the sponge delicately into the paper-like substance before a tap on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. You pulled the earbud out of your ear before turning to see your supervisor. “You’ve got a call.” She spoke before walking to the office, waiting for you to follow.

You set your supplies to the side and moved to the office; your supervisor handed you her phone before leaving the room. You looked at her confused before saying a hello into the receiver. “Please don’t hang up.” Steven. You frowned as you slumped in your chair “I promise I have a good explanation. Well, at least a decent one.” He continued.

You happily walked out the door to the museum, trying not to show just how giddy you were to meet Steven for dinner. You looked around the staircase and the surrounding area, not spotting him. He was probably just running late, maybe he missed the bus. You sat down on the stairs, fiddling with your fingers to try and distract yourself. Time seemed to drag and you ended up pulling out your phone, trying to distract yourself. You scrolled through your phone and minutes had turned to hours. You began to grow worried that something had happened to him. You two got along well enough that you didn’t think he wouldn’t want to see you. Eventually, you gave up and went home, trying to convince yourself that Steven had never shown his face at the museum in the first place.

“I haven’t heard from you in two weeks. You show up to the museum, ask me out, and then ditch me and now, two weeks later, you have an explanation?” You huffed into the phone “Do you understand how worried I was about you? I thought you died or something.” “I know, I know but I promise I’ll explain it to you.” Steven paused “Maybe over dinner?” “No,” you said flatly “No if this is important then you will get your ass to the museum, and you’re going to sit and wait out there until I’m on lunch. And then you’re going to take me to that restaurant that I like and then maybe, maybe, I will let you take me to dinner.” You weren’t usually so demanding but something about the circumstances seemed to demand it. Plus lunch was only in fifteen minutes and if you had to think about another possible date with Steven all day you’d simply explode.

As promised Steven was outside the door of the museum at precisely 12:30 to take you to lunch. You had to fight the smile that came to your face, still wanting to be mad at him. “You are so damn lucky Steven Gant.” You sighed as you both walked down the stairs. “Yeah, yeah I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, not really sure how to broach the subject. “Just tell her. She already let you have a do-over.” Marc’s voice rang through Steven’s head causing him to groan softly but you missed it. “You know I almost stood you up.” You mumbled as you pulled the door to the nearby café open. “But free food won out.” “Well, I’m grateful for that,” Steven spoke after a beat of silence. You both ordered at the counter before finding a seat, Steven led you both to a place further away from the lunch crowd. “I just- I want you to know it was never my plan to not show up.” He looked down at the table, eyeing the spoon on the table more than you. “I have this thing, well it's not actually a thing, thing, well it is but it's got a name so it's not like some random thi-“ “Steven.” You cut him off “If you keep rambling, we’re not going to get anywhere in the 20 minutes I have to eat.” You gave him a soft smile, leaning onto the table a bit. “I’m here to listen to you, even if I am still a bit upset.”

Marc stayed silent, letting Steven listen to your little pep talk “She seems understanding enough, I don’t see why you’re so nervous.” Steven glared at his reflection in the spoon as if they hadn’t had this conversation a million times in the last week. “You never told Layla.” He mumbled under his breath “Layla?” You asked, sitting up a bit “Who’s Layla?” Shit. “Layla is kinda my ex-wife?” Steven hesitated, watching as your eyes grew wide. “You were married?” “NO!” Steven groaned, why did this have to be so complicated. “No, but technically yes but also technically no.” He took a breath “I have dissociative identity disorder, simply put there’s another man in my head. His name is Marc, and he was married to Layla.” “And is Marc or Layla one of the reasons you stood me up?” You raised a brow “No, we don’t know who did that. Marc was the one who wanted me to ask you out. We went back to the apartment and then woke up a week later. He’s spent the last week pestering me to go find you so I could explain things.” Steven sighed.

You spent the rest of your lunch talking about where Steven had been after the bathroom incident. He told you about Egypt, about Khonsu, about Layla and how much Marc messed up on that front. You couldn’t help but laugh at that, but you were a bit jealous. Layla seemed like an amazing woman, one you doubted you could ever compare to since the furthest you’d been from home was to get the job you had now. Even then you never really left the London area. You glanced at your watch and frowned slightly. “Dinner, tonight, your place, I’ll meet you there.” You smiled “I can’t really cook…” Steven mumbled “We can get Chinese; I’ll bring it over under one condition.” You spoke as you stood up, the both of you walking towards the door. “I want to meet Marc.” Steven chuckled lightly “I’ll see what I can do.”

---

You arrived at the apartment building, taking it in while taking a breath. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous. Maybe it was the prospect of being in the boys’ personal space or maybe it was the fact that there were boys, plural now, that you felt you had to impress. You doubted Marc's opinion meant much to Steven but you did know that if he didn’t like you he could make you seeing Steven damn near impossible. You pushed past the broom salesman at the door and pushed the button for Steven’s apartment. After he buzzed you in you made your way up to his apartment, taking another deep breath before you knocked on the door. The door swung open after a moment and you were greeted by Steven. Something was off though, some uncanny valley feeling hitting you as you noticed the small differences, the slicked-back hair paired with an unpatterned black button-up. “I’m Marc,” He broke the silence as if he could read your mind. You figured the confusion was written on your face. “Steven thought we could talk first.” You gave him your name and held up the food you’d brought. “Hope you both like the same food.” Marc gave a small shrug but didn’t complain. He was as respectful of Steven’s diet as he could be considering they shared the same body but that didn’t mean he’d say no to meat if it was offered. “I’ll make do.” He smiled softly at you before stepping aside to let you in.

The apartment looked more like Steven’s than the put-together man in front of you. The cluttered apartment was stacked with books and a few take-out containers still littered around despite the obvious efforts to clean the place up. Your eyes landed on a messy desk in the corner, remembering the few lessons Steven had tried to give you on hieroglyphics. You slipped off your shoes and made your way over to the couch, trying not to feel so awkward in your own skin as you sat down. You busied your hands by getting the food out for the both of you on a nearby coffee table. Once everything was ready you slipped onto the floor so you could eat. “So if you’re not the reason why Steven missed our date then who is?” You asked, eyeing the man who moved to sit across from you. “Small talk isn’t a strong suit is it?” Marc chuckled lightly, not minding if you wanted to get straight to business. “In all honesty, we don’t know. Steven knows even less than I do.” “Is he here now or?” You trailed off, not really sure how everything worked between them. Marc shook his head “Steven? No, he wanted to give us some space.” You just nodded, taking a bite of your food. Marc didn’t seem all too eager to continue the conversation but he didn’t seem to hate you. You’d take that. “So you don’t mind him dating someone even though… y’know…” “Just because I’m fine with being alone doesn’t mean Steven deserves to be” Marc stated, not even looking up from his food to make eye contact. You stayed quiet and that was all the conversation that was really had over dinner. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, it felt more natural than anything. You were used to more chatty lunches with Steven but you didn’t mind the quiet that Marc brought. As you both finished up Marc grabbed the empty containers and move them to the kitchen. You moved back up to the couch, fidgeting with your fingers once more since you didn’t have anything in front of you to distract you.

“Marc and his bloody hair gel.” You heard come from the kitchen, glancing over you spotted Steven trying to loosen his tidied-up curls that Marc had left with him. You couldn’t help the small giggle that left your lips “You know I don’t care about your hair right?” “I do,” He mumbled as you beaconed him over. He moved to sit next to you and your fingers moved to pull some curls down from their place. Steven smiled softly at you relaxing a bit as you pulled away from him. “Better?” You asked as you settled into the couch, a bit less anxious now that Steven was back. It was a bit odd seeing someone you knew act so different, even sound different. He nodded in response “So you and Marc?” You smiled “I think we could be friends. I dunno if he thinks that but I don’t hate him,” you paused, smirking “yet.” Steven smiled back, happy the two of you seemed to get on. “And you’re not mad at me.” “Steven you are aware it is damn near impossible for me to be mad at you right?” You nudged him lightly “So I guess I could ask you on another date then?” He asked, looking from his lap up to you and then back to his lap. “Why don’t we finish this one first yeah?” You smiled at him “We’ve got all night and I’ve got tomorrow off. We could watch a movie?” “All I’ve got are old documentaries on Ancient Egypt.” He spoke a bit hesitant, not being he didn’t want to be around you but because he was worried you would want to watch something a bit more exciting. “You say that like I don’t clean paper for a living.” You chuckled lightly “I’d be more than happy to watch an old documentary with you.”

Steven hopped off the couch while you got settled a bit more, popping one of his favorite documentaries in before finding a blanket and tossing it to you. He then took his spot on the couch beside you, watching you more than the movie. You were just as enthralled with the documentary as Steven had been. You even paused the film a few times to listen to Steven discuss things they mentioned. You seemed to be inching closer to him, but he couldn’t quite tell until your head rested on his shoulder. Steven stiffened a bit, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. This was the start of something good, he was sure of it.

[renneliaselfship]

Imagine taking the bus home with your f/o after a tired day and falling asleep on their shoulder or the other way around <3

Today was a tiring day and for the first time since I was a very young child I fell asleep on the bus that takes me home and I couldn’t help but imagine Cornelia sitting next to me on the bus, both asleep resting on each other

I did also made a drawing however I have no idea how to draw so I spent like 2 hours doing this and I think the intention is all that counts

You can see what I wrote and the drawing after this point

“The bus is coming,” Cornelia said in a tired voice, waking up early in the morning wasn’t his thing, he didn’t think it was anyone’s thing if he was honest. It was Saturday after all, a day where many overslept and woke up until lunch time but not him or Rene. Thankfully the morning had ended and now they were waiting for the bus to take them home.

The two of them signaled the bus stop, “ah fuck,” Rene said under his breath, it was midday and the bus was full but they still got in it and paid. At least it wasn’t as full as other times where people were barely in the bus, if the bus were to take a curve the wrong way at least five people would fall. Thankfully it wasn’t one of those times. Sure they needed to go standing up but it was better than waiting for the next bus under the sun… right?

Neither of them really wanted to be standing up, especially because the bus was barely moving due to traffic, it would probably take some good minutes to get to the next stop.

Neither of them spoke, one because the chauffeur was one of those who would put the music so loud you could hear the vibrations through your body but also because both were simply just so tired at the moment.

It took around fifteen minutes for a seat to be free and Rene hurried to take it, “give me your bag,” he said to Cornelia once he sat down on the aisle seat with Cornelia standing right next to him.

“I’m fine,” Cornelia replied.

“Just give it to me, your bag is big so it gets in the way when people try to pass to get to the exit at the back,” the seat he got was on the third row so Cornelia was standing close to the entrance. “It is also more comfortable if you stand with nothing on your back,” he added.

That was true, so Cornelia handed the bag to him.

They still hadn’t reached the next stop but they were close to it and since the traffic was so slow some people had decided to get down the bus, sadly it was people standing and one sitting, Rene hoped the person sitting next to him would get off on the next stop.

It felt good to sit down, they wouldn’t get off the bus in a while, their stop was the second to last so maybe he could close his eyes for a moment and-

“Excuse me,” the person sitting next to him was half standing, Rene stood up and let the man get out of the seat, he then moved to take the seat next to the window. Cornelia sat next to him a second later on the aisle seat.

Cornelia took his bag from Rene’s legs, “it is hot and having to bags won’t be comfortable,” he explained, the sun was high in the sky, entering through the window and the weather was hot, it was impossible not to sweat even while just sitting on the bus, so having to bags on your legs meant your legs were going to sweat, in fact, Rene already could feel a bit of sweat right where he had rested his and Cornelia’s bags, it wasn’t a lot so it didn’t really matter, it was mostly the annoyance of it.

Usually it was impossible to sleep in such weather and even more impossible to sleep on a bus but the traffic was slow and both were tired.

Rene rested his head on Cornelia’s left shoulder and closed his eyes, he felt Cornelia’s head on his own, it seemed the two had thought the same.

With this traffic, we won’t arrive home in a while… Rene thought already feeling like he was gonna fall asleep at any second.

~~~

“Hey,” Cornelia woke up by his arm being shaken.

“What?” He sat straight, making Rene wake up confused as to what happened.

“You two fell asleep, what was your stop?” The chauffeur of the bus asked him.

“Ah shit we already arrived at the last stop?”

“A minute ago, a bus it’s about to leave again.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Cornelia said, “we were gonna get down on the previous stop,” he smiled at the man, thanking him for waking them up before getting down the bus.

“Can’t believe we actually fell asleep,” Rene said, both started to walk to their home, from the bus stop it was only three minutes away, “I’ve never been so happy to have this route of buses start and end the trip here.”

“You’re always happy for that,” Cornelia smiled, “should we buy lunch?”

“Yeah, by the way, can you get my phone from me?” He stood next to Cornelia so he could open the bag and get the phone.

“Here,” Cornelia handed the phone to him and closed the bag.

“Damn,” Rene started to walk again, Cornelia followed, both walking next to each other now, “it is 1:30, hopefully we still find some food.”

“We better do, because I don’t feel like cooking.”

“You can’t cook,” Rene said in a joking tone, “let’s hurry up.” Luckily for them, there was a place to buy lunches on their short way home.

[alenaphale]

now i believe it is time to elaborate a little on the subject (everyone in this au is just so chaotic)

• there is one particular rule that not a single meeting of les amis fails to follow — the musicians always complain about professor javert. they literally cannot shut up.

• the artists could never understand their complaints, however, because valjean is such an amazing mentor — he never shouts, never makes any negative remarks, only gives soft suggestions and guidance. and they all respect him greatly, because he really is a professional, to that extent that he can interpret the rules in his own way.

• still, grantaire is systematically late for plein-airs, his hair and clothes in horrible disarray, his head still dizzy from the previous night’s party, but no one can blame him, honestly, because, despite his absolute lack of self-discipline, he somehow manages to get good grades (and not only because of valjean’s soft-heartedness and compassion. i swear.)

• enjolras is always pissed because everyone thinks he follows javert’s instructions blindly at the rehearsals — but he doesn’t, they just have very similar understanding of how an orchestra should work (although, of course, enjolras is more inclined to suggestions from the members, whereas javert is merciless towards ones who ‘cannot even play their part right’). enjolras always stands up for his colleagues, but honestly he never succeeds, for javert’s authority and experience are unquestionable.

• marius is always late for the rehearsals. there have been endless times combeferre sat in his chair in cold sweat, white-knuckled grip on his violin and the bow, knowing that javert will definitely notice poor bloke’s absence and then it will be over for them all.

• during the classes grantaire draws endless portraits of enjolras instead of actual assignments. valjean only sighs at this.

• marius and courfeyrac share an apartment and this is actually so terrible because marius is helpless and courfeyrac is irresponsible but the latter still manages to do the chores while the former is locked in his room for hours staring blankly at the wall. occasionally courfeyrac knocks on his door to bring him some dinner made of the leftovers from the fridge. marius answers with extremely sad and honestly pathetic violin solo.

• joly and lesgles also share an apartment, but in a completely different way. bossuet’s room is a mess and his shirt stains the moment he pulls it out of the laundry, joly cleans the flat in its entirety at least twice a week. bossuet breaks a cup or a plate on a regular basis and burns the pans, joly cooks the most healthy and hearty dinner one can imagine, leaving the kitchen counter perfectly clean. bossuet is always late to classes even if they leave the flat together. bossuet cuts his finger and doesn’t do anything about it, joly shows him a video with horrifying outcome of not washing your fruits properly. sometimes while watching something they fall asleep together in joly’s room, and for once bossuet doesn’t fall from the bed and joly is totally okay with being so close to another human being.

• feuilly made an installation of powstanie listopadowe for his term project. then bossuet ruined it while just walking past it on the exhibition and feuilly was swearing at him in polish for good fifteen minutes.

• combeferre is the one who prints out the scores for the whole orchestra. sometimes he forgets which one was the original — with all the marks javert left for every party — and spends the whole night copying the marks with his own hand. sometimes he hates being a concertmaster, but in the end he does it all out of good will only.

• sometimes when a meeting is over, enjolras and combeferre wait patiently (or not, if courfeyrac and grantaire are too enthusiastic to spend a little more time with them) until everyone takes a bus or a train home, and then they just wonder aimlessly through the streets, discussing everything and nothing in particular. sometimes they talk eagerly to the very break of dawn, and then they still have to show up for the rehearsal strictly at nine o’clock.

there is more to come! in the next post i will probably write about valvert because i love them dearly and of course they are insane even here.

[cherryeol04]

Bus Boy

➻ Pairings: Hyunjin x Reader

➻ Genre: Humor, fluff

➻ Additional: Attraction at first sight

➻ Word Count: 1.1k

➻ Warnings: N/A

➻ Author’s notes: This story is cross posted on multiple sites under the same username!

When it came to restaurants, you trusted Seungmin with finding decent places. You’ve never had the greatest luck when picking spots to eat at - the horrible food poisoning still haunting your dreams - so you passed that duty onto your best friend. He just seemed to have this weird luck surrounding him, that no matter where you ate, the food was always amazing, the service was exceptional and it was always reasonably priced. 

So when he took you to some hole in the wall near the local university, you didn’t even bat an eye. For a Saturday afternoon, the place was bustling and after a 20 minute wait, the hostess was finally able to seat the two of you, leaving you with the promise of a server coming around soon. 

Soon came and went rather quickly. You were absorbed in the menu, trying to determine what exactly you were in the mood for when Seungmin sighed heavily and closed his menu. Looking up, you raised your brow. “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve been sitting here for fifteen minutes and no one has come by.” He muttered, scanning the overly crowded restaurant. Staff was running about and if you remembered correctly, there had been at least 5 servers walking past your table since you sat down. Turning in your seat, you also looked around, eyes following one server and then another, trying to will them to come over and actually serve you. 

Unfortunately, you have yet to master telepathy. 

“Excuse me!” Your head whipped around, watching as Seungmin waved down a gorgeous redhead. He was tall, lean and looked like he could be a model. So why the hell was he working here? 

“Yes? How can I help you?” You told yourself not to swoon, but it was just out of your control. He was so handsome. 

“Yeah, we’ve been sitting here for a while waiting for someone to take our order.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I can go see if I can find your server.” He said quickly, glancing over his shoulder briefly. 

“Can’t you just do it?” Seungmin asked, raising a brow.

“Uh…well…” 

“Well what?”

“I’m actually just a bus boy…” he trailed off and you wanted to scoff. He was a bus boy? That was a travesty. 

“Okay, but can’t you take our order and give it to our server or something? Do we even have one?” Seungmin requested and you could tell he was getting frustrated with every passing second. You couldn’t blame him. If you had been paying more attention to the time, you probably would have been upset too. It was probably best that you were keeping a level head though. 

“I - sure.” He seemed resigned, and you almost felt bad for him. “What can I get you?” 

Seungmin looked a bit shocked that the other was actually going to take your orders. He glanced at you and you nodded back at him. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “Thank you.”

Seungmin let you order first, and afterwards gave his own. The beautiful bus boy, bless his soul, repeated the order twice to try and memorize it. He scurried away, practically prancing. It was cute, he was cute. 

“Ahhh. I see.”

“You see what?” You eyed him suspiciously, doing your best to not blush because you know you’ve been caught red handed. Seungmin’s knowing smirk was all you got in return and you actively chose to ignore it. 

When your drinks arrived, they were delivered by someone else who apologized for not serving them quicker. You were sad that it wasn’t the bus boy coming back to serve you, but it only made sense. Being a server wasn’t his job. If Seungmin noticed how disheartened you were to finally have a server, he chose not to comment on it and you were thankful for that.

The food arrived shortly after you got your drinks and while it wasn’t horrible, it wasn’t good either. Though you chalked it up to just being in a ‘bleh’ type of mood now. Occasionally your eyes would scan the area around you, searching for the bright, fire engine red hair in hopes of just catching another glimpse of the beautiful bus boy. The universe wasn’t on your side.

Finishing up, you insisted on paying and while you filled out the tip on the receipt, Seungmin excused himself to the restroom. Your mind was still on the red head that had captured your heart in the short five minutes you had encountered him. You were complete strangers, yet there was just something about him that drew you into him. And perhaps that’s the reason why you decided to write your phone number on a napkin, addressing it to the ‘Red Headed Bus Boy’. The message was short and sweet and as you slipped it under your empty plate, you didn’t dare get your hopes up. The likelihood that the man would actually bus your table and see the napkin and text you was very slim. 

Putting your wallet away, you slipped out of the booth, meeting up with Seungmin by the front door to leave. You chatted about the restaurant and the food you had consumed, both coming to an agreement that it wasn’t a terrible place, but next time you would try to go at a different time - when it wasn’t too crowded so you could have better service.  The rest of the day was pretty uneventful in your eyes, and by the time you got home, your social battery was completely depleted so you were more than thankful to throw yourself on your bed and just relax. You loved Seungmin to death but nothing could beat a quiet day at home. You were drifting off to sleep when your phone pinged, a groan leaving you. 

“Come on man.” You muttered to yourself as you reached into your pocket and pulled the offending device free and stared at the screen. You had expected to see a text from Seungmin, but what greeted you was an unknown number. Curiously, you unlocked your phone and pulled up the message.

Unknown 

Hi, this Hyunjin

Or, red headed bus boy 😂

Short, sweet, to the point, much like your message had been to him. It was also sort of awkward, but that was to be expected. It wasn’t everyday that you left your number for someone just because you thought they were handsome. You wondered if it was a regular occurrence for Hyunjin though. He was extremely good looking, you wouldn’t be surprised if men and women alike threw themselves at him. 

It took you a hot second to try and formulate a response and after writing and deleting four different messages, you finally settled on letting him know your name and that you would very much like to get to know him. Your sentiments were eagerly returned and somehow you had a date tomorrow afternoon. It was interesting how a seemingly innocuous day led to a date with a man that if at the very least, you could be friends with. You were excited to see what the future held.

[sommerflue-22]

SWIPE RIGHT | Armin Arlert x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

One swipe to the right and you found yourself going on dates with Armin Arlert, loving how he treated you right. Who could possibly resist such a gentle and compassionate man? It's only a matter of time before he officially asked you to be his girlfriend...

Pairing(s): Armin Arlert x Fem!Reader

Warning: -

Word count: 617

Author Note

Hi, guys! This is the last part of the fic. Thank you for the likes, reblogs, and for reading until the end. This fic is also available on Ao3, it's a different version from this one. I'll publish more fic after this. Let me know if you have any request! <3

You haven’t heard anything from Armin in months. After that night you didn’t block his number. You kept your words that you would wait for him. However, it seemed like he decided to follow his parents’ will. Good for him, that’s what you’ve always told yourself. Even though you tried to convince yourself that it was for the best, you still locked yourself up in your apartment over the weekends. Your body sprawled on the sofa or on your bed, the delivery man knocked at least twice a day (or thrice, sometimes your friends sent you food). You tried your best every day to get up and go to work, but at the end of the day you missed his presence in your life. It’s crazy how a match from a dating app could turn your life upside down in a matter of weeks. Maybe you were meant to be together, maybe you just wanted to be in a romantic relationship. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

You slammed your laptop shut, causing Hitch to jump in her seat.

“You okay there (Y/N)?” Hitch asked.

“I’m fine.” You replied calmly. “Too many emails today, but I’m grateful they’re from our clients.”

“Yeah, it’s great. It’s not even the holiday season yet, can you believe it?”

“Well, I hope the sales keep increasing.” You shoved your laptop inside your bag, “You’re finished yet?”

“Nah, I think I’m leaving in half an hour. You go first.”

“Alright, see you tomorrow, Hitch.”

You left the store around fifteen minutes after five and walked to the bus stop nearby. You rubbed both of your hands together and blew hot air from your mouth…

…until it reminded you of that one particular night ride.

You shook your head and leaned against the bus stop sign. Even as the cold wind hit, you just shoved your hands inside your pocket. Your bus should arrive any minute. Impatient, you looked to your left, hoping to spot the blue bus. 

Instead, you noticed a really familiar black sedan with a plate number you recognized, parked only a few steps away from the bus stop. You held your breath as the door opened.

Armin stepped out from the vehicle, dressed casually in a white button-up with his sleeves rolled up. It seemed like he was alone because he didn’t rush to open the other door. You saw him sighed, white fog escaped from his lips. You caught yourself staring, right when Armin turned his head.

It was the first time you’d seen each other after that night. None of you moved. You weren’t sure if you should approach him. 

Armin raised his left hand to wave and that’s when you saw it. A silver ring on his fourth finger. 

Ah, you thought to yourself, that’s why.

You’ve never been happier when you saw your bus. As it pulled over, you nodded to him and smiled. Your chest tightened as he put his hand on his chest and nodded back. As if he was saying his last goodbye, thanking you for the memories.

“Miss, are you coming in or not?” The bus driver grunted.

“Yeah, I’m going.” You let your stare linger on Armin once again, before getting on the bus.

You sat in the very back of the bus, trying so hard not to look back.

However, your feelings got the best of you and you peeked over your shoulder.

Armin stayed still in his place, staring at your bus as it moved forward. You kept staring at him until the bus took a turn and you couldn’t see him anymore. 

You leaned back on your seat, closing your eyes and let out a sigh. 

Good bye, Armin.

This fic is also available on Ao3

[kira-anon-uwu]

Blossom in ribcage, until their backs break [ 1 ]

Coming out Swinging

Spiderinnit fic

Main post

~-~

          "Tommy, get up! We're going to be late!"

He sat up with a tired groan, throwing his pillow at his brother. "You mean you're going to be late; I don't have to be there this early."

"You do if you don't want to take the bus."

"Well who fucking said that you had to be in this early?"

"The principal, and if you want to keep living here you'll make sure I'm on time."

"You're a grown man, it isn't my job to help you make it to work on time."

"You have fifteen minutes, or I'm leaving you here and personally handing you your late slip when you finally get there."

"I'll just stay home."

"I'll tell Sam to bar you from that fieldtrip you have coming up if you do that."

That got Tommy out of bed, and he scowled at Wilbur the entire time. "Fuck off, don't you dare."

"Then you better not skip school."

"I've been looking forward to that trip for ages, I saved up my own fucking money for-"

"Holy shit, calm down. I wouldn't actually do that to you, you know that."

"I'm- Yeah, yeah sorry. Still not fully used to living with you over-"

"I know, it's alright. Get ready quickly, and we should still have some time for me to run through a drive-thru to grab us some breakfast on the way to the school, ok?"

"Damn, you'll run through it? Are everyone's grades that bad?"

"You know what I meant,", Wilbur said with an amused exhale from his nose, "Ten minutes, alright? I'm going to go warm up the car."

"No, leave it cold; wakes a man up better than coffee."

"If I don't let it warm up, it won't be running. Don't forget to put the shit you were working on last night in your bag, I can't get you any more of an extension on that now that we're done unpacking."

"Yeah, yeah,", Tommy rolled his eyes, searching his floor for some jeans that were clean enough he could get away with wearing them again.

Realistically, he'd still be getting up around this time if he didn't go in when Wilbur did, since the L'Manberg busses ran like shit on a good day, but he refused to acknowledge that since he hated to admit that his brother was right about anything. Except having him move out to live with him, that was a good idea; the only one the man ever had, really.

How he was affording a two bedroom flat on a teacher's salary was beyond him, but Tommy didn't really question that when it meant he could move out from Phil's house.

          Tommy remembered to stick his overdue school work into his bag before heading out, it was the backpack he ended up forgetting. It was easy enough to run back up four flights of stairs to grab it, at least, and he tried his best to hide how hard he was panting as he got to the car.

"Don't fucking pass out, jesus christ."

"Sorry, nearly forgot something,", Tommy breathed out, leaning the passenger side seat back as far as possible so he could lay down.

"You remembered to lock the door, right?"

"Probably."

"Tommy."

"Yes, I locked it. My shit's in there too, I'm not about to leave it open for someone to come in and take things."

"Just wanted to be sure,", Wilbur sighed, waiting for a break in the morning traffic to pull out of the parking spot, "Buckle your seatbelt, I don't feel like getting a ticket today."

Tommy muttered out a string of swears as he sat up to follow the demand. "Y'know, you were a lot more fun before you went off to university to become a narc."

"I'm not a fucking narc, how dare you."

"You are in fact a narc, snitch, and square now that you are a teacher."

"I will fail you."

"That's the only reason you wanted me in your class, so you can threaten me with my grades."

"I have done no such thing,", Wilbur chuckled, "Figure out what you want from Dunkin."

"Same shit as always."

"Wanted to make sure you weren't changing it up any."

Tommy set his arms behind his head with a sigh. "It's nice to have some things stay the same. The decent aspects of shit, at least."

"Listen, Tommy, I know alot of this has been hard-"

"We're not having this talk before school, I'm not in the fucking mood for it."

"No, I know, I'm just- I'm here for you when you are ready to talk, I want to make sure you know that."

"... Yeah, I know."

Wilbur gave him a reassuring smile through the rearview mirror, reaching over to ruffle his hair without taking his eyes off of the road.

"Hey- Fucking stop that! I brushed it this morning!"

"Oh, good, then I should still be able to find the brush stuck in there."

"It's about to be stuck up your ass."

"Why would you waste a perfectly good weapon like that?"

          A failed attempt to crash the car and trip through the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru later, and they arrived at the school. Tommy took his tea and lukewarm bagel sandwich to the cafeteria to wait for his friends, sitting in the corner of the nearly empty room and watching as other students started showing up.

People left him alone for the most part by this point, realizing that he wasn't very fun to bully and kissing his ass wasn't worth it since he couldn't get Wilbur to change anyone's grades, so he was alone at his table until Tubbo eventually got there.

The short boy came in completely bundled up in a stupid looking coat and scarf, removing them as he sat down. "Holy shit, it's awful out there."

"It isn't that bad,", Tommy rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his tea.

He let out an offended squawk when Tubbo took it from him, laughing when the short boy immediately spit it back out.

"What the fuck is that?! Did you stick some dirt in hot water?"

"No, it's tea,", he snatched the cup back, "Not my fault you've got weak taste buds."

"I think I preferred it when you were in here with black coffee, at least that just tasted like bean water."

"Coffee is bean water."

"You're supposed to add sugar and shit to it."

"Tubbo, I haven't got enough money for the coffee that comes from shit, and I'm certainly not going to be adding my own."

"You will be boiled."

"No, that's what you do with the water, man."

"I will become the modern day Emperor Nero. Including rising to power at age sixteen."

"Well you're off to a great start, because you might as well be speaking to me in Roman when you say shit like that."

"The Romans used Latin. Or Greek, sometimes."

"Tubbo,", Tommy let out an annoyed whine, "It's too early for you to be teaching me shit. It's bad enough I've got to listen to Wil practicing his lesson plan at home, give my brain a fucking break."

"Saying that implies it ever gets any use."

"I beg your fucking pardon?"

"Then beg."

"Yo, who's begging?", Ranboo asked as they finally got to the table, a muffin that'd been acquired in the breakfast line in their hand.

"Me, for some fucking peace and quiet,", Tommy sighed, putting his head down on the table. Tubbo started poking him repeatedly in the arm, followed by Ranboo who took the other side.

          The day was very thankfully mundane after that, the only thing of note being his math teacher refusing to take his late work despite him having a note from the principal saying he had a pass on it. The asshole told him that 'moving house isn't a real reason, it's an excuse for him to be lazy'.

Tommy made a mental note to figure out which car belonged to that dickhead in the teacher's lot, leaving his, thankfully, last class of the day to check in with Wilbur before he headed off with his friends. "I'm going to Tubbo's for a while."

"Be careful, and don't take the Sixty-Two bus; route's fucked from some of the Ramulus shit."

"Right, we'll be taking the subway."

"Do you need fare?"

"Paying for the fare, that's funny."

"Tommy,", Wilbur sighed, looking up from his desk, "Don't admit to committing crimes like that in school."

"I've seen at least three teachers do the same shit, only tourists and dumbasses pay for the subway; the rest of us hop over it."

"I always pay when I use the subway, that's how the city makes the money to keep up with them."

They made silent eye contact for a long moment before Tommy turned on his heel and started walking away. "... Well, great talk. I should be home by supper, but I'll let you know if we get food anywhere."

"Bye, if you do anything illegal, don't get caught at least,", Wilbur sighed again, raising his hand to wave.  

And the rest of the week after that blended together for the most part; every day basically the same leading up to his fieldtrip on Friday.

His favorite teacher, Sam, had somehow managed to get a fieldtrip set up to go to Ewe Labs, and was bringing thirty students to get a tour of the place. Tommy might not have particularly enjoyed going to school, but his Zoology class was the one he looked forward to the most. He had no idea how Sam had managed to get the tour set up, since Ewe Labs were notoriously hard to get into, but he was excited as all hell for it and had been since it'd been brought up in the first place.

The only way the school was going to let it happen was if the selected students paid for it, but that hadn't been an issue since Tommy was able to 'borrow' some money from various sources in the city.

Which was completely moral in his opinion, since he was stealing from the people running mascot suit scams downtown. They made bank by forcing people to pay them for pictures they didn't even want to take, he got money by stealing their wallets and throwing away their IDs and photos of their children; nature is healing, or something. 

          Wilbur dropped him off earlier than usual so he could get into the group, giving him a pat on the back and a thumbs up before going to his own classroom to get his lesson materials ready for the day. He was getting ready to start his unit on Hamlet, and Tommy was more than alright with missing as much of that as he physically could.

Ignoring how much of it he'd have to hear at home, anyways, that part was inescapable.

Sam took attendance as seven-thirty rolled around, getting everyone onto the bus that'd been rented for the day.

"Ok, so here's what we're doing,", Sam said as he stood at the front, "When we get there, their head of security is going to give you guys all of the rules, and you're gonna listen to him. They're being incredibly generous letting us go in for a tour, so we need to be polite and follow those rules so we can do more stuff like this. Does everyone understand that?"

Almost everyone gave a positive response, and Sam cleared his throat.

"Tommy, do you understand what we're gonna be doing?"

"Why the fuck are you calling me out-", Tommy started complaining, with Tubbo smacking him in the arm, "Ow- Yeah, I've got it; we're going to be told not to touch anything, and then they'll show us the cool shit."

"Right, thank you. And watch the language."

"'Watch the'-"

"We're still at the school."

"Sorry, please allow me to stay on the trip."

"You get three swears while we're there, any more and you get to wait on the bus."

He folded his arms as the rest of the bus laughed at him, sinking in his seat. "Fu- Fine, whatever. I'll just have to make them count, then."

Sam told the driver they were ready to go and sat, with the trip to Ewe being taken up mostly by the teacher and driver telling people to stay in their seats and stop throwing stuff.

They were let out right in front of the main building for Ewe Labs, a tall white monolith of a skyscraper that was a staple of the L'Manberg skyline. The front proudly displayed the name, along with it's tagline; Experiment With Everything.

There were all sorts of people filing in and out of the place, all of them ranging from businessmen to what were clearly interns being sent on coffee runs that probably weren't getting paid.

There was also some short man that was walking directly toward their group with his hands full of visitor passes. "Eyy, if it isn't doctor Dude,", the guy greeted Sam, his eyes just barely running over their whole group before going back to the teacher, "Good to see you. This all the kids you brought with you?"

"Yeah, it is. Everyone, this is Quackity; the head of security I mentioned before." 

          "I'd introduce myself to everyone individually, but I really don't give enough of a shit about a bunch of highschoolers to do that. I'm passing these out to everyone, so make sure you get one if you don't wanna get thrown out and sent to prison for trespassing,", Quackity said as he handed out the passes he was holding.

Tubbo snorted out a quiet laugh. "Trespassing is a misdemeanor at most."

"Oh, we got a junior cop over here,", Quackity mocked as he passed them, sending more badges that direction, "This counts as a government building on the tax forms, so it'd be felony. That leads into the long, boring talk with everyone about what you're not doing in here. Sam, I don't need to pull up some Subway Surfers footage to get them to listen to me, do I?"

"No, they're all pretty good on paying attention. For the most part."

Tommy knew the second part was directed at almost exclusively him, and made sure he was listening the whole time out of spite.

"Fantastic. I'm only here to tell you guys what to do once you're in there, past the door you'll be following around one of our scientists into the places you're allowed to see. You need to stay in your group the whole time, no wandering. No touching anything, don't disturb anyone that isn't specifically interacting with you; people are trying to work. No food or water, if you've got a snack or some shit in your pocket keep it there. Any water bottles are gonna get dumped in the lobby like you're going into the airport. I'll give someone like twenty dollars to drink the Ewe Labs jungle juice-"

"No,", Sam cut in, like a killjoy, "Don't say that, because there's at least five of them that'd do that for free."

"Boo, Sam hates freedom!", Tommy had a hand to the side of his mouth to amplify his voice, Tubbo, Ranboo, and a few other people joining in on the 'boo'ing.

"Those are the people that'd drink it."

"Oh shit, give me a list of names. Could always use some human test subjects,", Quackity chuckled, raising his hands in front of himself as Sam glared at him, "Joking, I'm joking."

"Finish with the rules."

"You aren't any fun, man. Think the last thing to go over is no photos or video. That's a serious one, anyone caught with a phone out is getting it taken and destroyed. That should have been everything. I just want to be perfectly clear that breaking any of these rules invalidates your visitor pass, which means you're tresspassing and are gonna get arrested."

"Did everyone get that?"

The whole group gave some form of confirmation, and Quackity gave them a thumbs up as he turned back toward the direction he'd come from. "Great, I'll leave you to it then! I'll probably check in later to make sure everything's going ok, and remember that there's security everywhere so don't try anything!" 

          The tour really got going after that, with someone in a generic lab coat meeting them at the door to show them around.

Tommy did, in fact, try to partake in the Ewe Labs jungle juice, but Sam asked Tubbo and Ranboo to help drag him away before he was able to have a sip of the forbidden soup. He behaved himself past that point, outside of making jokes about drinking chemicals and eating rats, gradually getting more invested in what he was being shown over trying to be funny.

Ewe focused on animal genetics and testing, which had some aspects that were incredibly unethical, but for the most part just consisted of learning more about the genes and DNA of different species beyond what was already out there.

As they were being shown around the insect segment of the labs, his eye was caught by a dark room with 'Arachnids' on the door as they passed it. It also happened to be ajar, giving a very small peek inside.

Something about it was calling to him, and he really wanted to see what was going on in there. He wasn't exactly the biggest fan of spiders, but he figured there had to be some neat shit if the rest of the tour was anything to go by.

Tommy's chance came when it was time for their tour guide to switch, since they had to wait a little while for the new one to show up.

"Sam,", he grabbed his teacher's sleeve.

"Tommy, teacher mode."

He sighed, rolling his eyes as he addressed the man again. "Mr.Dude."

"What's up?"

"Man needs to piss, is there any chance I can run off to do that while we're just fucking standing here?"

Sam looked incredibly conflicted, eventually sighing and pointing toward a hallway they'd passed earlier. "Bathroom is down there to the left. Try to be quick, ok?"

"Of course, won't even know I'm gone."

He went down that way until he was out of sight, flipping his badge over so it was harder to tell what kind it was as he carefully found his way back to the arachnid room. The hallway was somehow empty, giving him an easy entry into the mysterious and dark lab.

          Tommy felt like turning on the light was a bad idea, opting for is phone's flashlight so he could be more inconspicuous with his snooping. He didn't even really know what he was looking for, just looking around for the sake of it.

From the way it seemed right off the bat, it was a testing lab or something absolutely stacked with empty bug terrariums.

Some of them had been knocked over at some point, and Tommy had to be careful stepping over them so he didn't kick any and make noise. Although that was kinda negated by him setting his hand on a table and very promptly feeling something incredibly sharp on his wrist.

He let out a pained and loud 'Fuck' as he moved back, knocking down the rest of the cages. He caught a glimpse of a spider of some kind on the table before turning off his flashlight and hiding behind it; just barely managing to get out of view before there were people entering the room and switching the lights on.

"Who's in here?"

No way in hell was he going to answer them, that was a very easy way to get arrested for trespassing like Quackity had repeatedly warned.

Tommy zipped his hoodie up, using the hood to hide his face and carefully making his way closer to the door. The security guards that'd come to check the room had moved farther in as they were looking for him, which gave him an opening to leg it out of there.

They were chasing him, and shouting at him to stop, but he somehow managed to lose them through taking random hallways and throwing a few potted plants in the way.

He stood as close to the wall as he could manage in an empty hall, catching his breath as he quickly took the hoodie off and tied it around his waist with the black liner facing out so it'd be harder to identify if the guards saw him again.

He actually went to the bathroom after that, splashing some cold water onto his face and freezing when he saw the dark red, nearly black mark on his wrist where he'd felt the pain in that lab.

"Oh, fuck, that isn't good,", Tommy chuckled nervously, trying to decide if it was worse that he'd been bitten by a mystery bug or that this could lead to him getting caught and, once again, arrested for trespassing. 

          Running cold water over it made if hurt slightly less, but really didn't do much to help with the flush that'd settled over him as he stood there.

Running and getting his blood flowing was probably a terrible thing when there was venom of some kind in his body; horrible, even. He was a big man, though, he could handle it!

Tommy swapped a wristband from his left hand to his right, using it to cover the bite as he very carefully started stumbling his way back out of the bathroom. He thankfully ran into Tubbo, the short boy immediately moving to help him stand.

"Holy shit, are you alright?!"

"Y-Yeah,", that was a lie, "I think I got food poisoning or something from that fucking food truck shit Wil bought me this morning. Spent that whole time fucking puking."

"Yeah, you look like shit. Mr.Dude sent me to get you, we're being made to leave because they've had a security breach or something."

"Oh shit, is Freddy here?"

"Shut the fuck up,", Tubbo sighed, helping him walk.

"You can't- You can't say there's been a 'security breach' and expect me to not make the joke. You're just jealous you didn't do it first."

"No, I'm jealous that Ranboo wasn't the one that had to come get your ass, because he'd be having an easier time with this. Are you sure this is just food poisoning and not the flu or something?"

Tommy immediately jumped on that excuse, acting guilty and looking to the side. "I mean, I did feel like shit this morning-"

"Tommy."

"It isn't my fault that I decided to ignore my stomach being fucked to go on a field trip."

"It absolutely is."

"Fuck you."

"You've used the three swears Mr.Dude allotted to you, now you need to stop talking."

"Fuck you."

"What happened?", Sam asked as they got back to the group.

"So, I may have lied about why I needed the restroom,", Tommy chuckled, avoiding eye contact, "Threw the fuck up."

"That's not good. The security issue doesn't have anything to do with you, does it?"

"Unless my head going in the fucking toilet counts as one, no."

"It's a good thing we have to leave, then. Come on, everyone; same way we came. Tommy, are you good to walk on your own? You really don't look good,", Sam asked as he started herding everyone else away, concerned expression on his face.

"Should be alright, can always drag Tubbo down to the floor with me if I start falling."

Tubbo immediately walked ahead with the rest of the group. "I'm leaving him to get stepped on and die."

"Wait, no-"

          Looking like a light breeze could literally kill him made his 'food poisoning / flu' excuse believable enough that security didn't interrogate him very much as they got back to the bus, and Tommy had Tubbo help him get his phone out to call his brother once the vehicle was moving.

Wilbur answered after it rang a few times with a sigh. "I'm teaching."

"And I feel like I'm about to fucking die. The trip is ending early because someone fucking broke in or something, but I'm sick and I need to go home."

"Are you being serious?"

"I can throw up on your desk when we get back if you don't believe me."

"I'll-", Wilbur interrupted himself with another sigh, "Let me know when you're almost back, alright? Text me when you're nearly here, don't call again. I'll find someone who can cover for me after this period, ok?"

"Right, thank you."

"Of course. If you aren't really sick I'm locking you in a closet."

He could hear whatever class the man was currently teaching laugh at that, scoffing. "Fuck you."

"See you in a little while."

"Bye."

Any annoyance was gone once they were back and Wilbur actually saw him. "Holy shit, what happened?"

Tommy shrugged at him, leaving it to Sam to explain the situation as he understood it. "He said he was throwing up, and he's been sweating bullets the whole way back."

"Right... Suppose we need to stop in at the nurse's office first before I can take him home. Might take him to the hospital, he looks awful."

"Fuck you, you look awful,", Tommy muttered, feeling considerably worse than he did before.

"He told me he felt like shit when he woke up this morning,", Tubbo chimed in, "But he was pretending he was fine so he could go on the trip."

"That tracks, he's an absolute plague rat,", Wilbur sighed, helping Tommy stand so they could go.

Sneeg, the nurse, didn't even take his temperature, writing a leave slip and giving it to him with a very encouraging 'don't die' as Wilbur dragged him to the office and then out to the car.

He managed to convince his brother to just take him home instead of the emergency room, since he really didn't want to have to explain what happened to medical professionals.

It was probably because of the fever, but he would have legitimately preferred dying over admitting that he'd made a mistake wandering unsupervised in an animal testing facility.

It's a shame it didn't happen while he was following the rules; seemed like something they could sue over if the circumstances were different. 

          But no, instead he got to suffer on the sofa like an idiot without any way to get compensated for his misery.

At least he was able to sleep through the worst of it, barely remembering the next couple days outside of waking up to eat or drink something and listen to his brother stress over him.

Wilbur made sure he was able to get up and do basic things on his own again before even considering going back to work, being incredibly clingy when he had to leave on the fifth morning after the incident.

"And you're sure you'll be alright? I've still got some days I can-"

"Holy shit, you always make a big fucking deal out of being late, stop worrying about me and fucking leave."

"I've spent the better part of a week watching you writhe in a pool of sweat and misery, I'm going to be anxious about leaving you alone after that."

"I'm pretty sure the worst of it is over, I'll send you a fucking text or something if I start feeling like shit again,", Tommy made a shooing motion with his hand, "Now get out so I can fuck up your save in Skyrim."

"I might stay home just to make sure you keep your hands off of that."

"Then I'll fuck up your save if you don't get the fuck out. I'll probably be sleeping for the most part anyways."

Wilbur looked like leaving was the absolute last thing he wanted to do, but eventually sighed and gathered up the stuff he was going to need for the day. "Any issue you have, call me immediately. If you start feeling worse, if you even think you might throw up or something, let me know the second the nausea starts up."

"Alright, drama queen."

"I'm being incredibly fucking serious. I don't mind coming back to help, alright? My top priority is you at the moment."

"Work should probably be a close fucking second; we need money to live."

"I've got plenty of money saved up, missing a few days isn't going to do any harm."

"Go, I'll still fucking be here when you're done boring the fuck out of seven periods worth of students."

"You'd better be,", he ruffled Tommy's hair, "There's still some of that soup in the fridge, and if you think you can handle solid food, there's some pizza as well-"

"Go."

Wilbur completely ignored him, continuing like he hadn't been interrupted. "Remember to drink water, I've got some electrolytes in the cupboard; those should help you replenish some of the water you lost through sweat. Try to take a shower if you feel well enough, you stink and I'm sure that would help you fell better." 

          "Fuck you, I smell perfectly fine. If anything, you're the one that stinks. I can fucking smell you from here,", he wrinkled his nose as he said it, only partially joking.

It probably had something to do with him not really being able to smell much while he was practically comatose, but everything seemed to smell far stronger than it had before.

The worst of it was his room, he could see what Wilbur was always complaining about whenever he had to go to the bathroom and walked past it. His door wasn't even open, and it was like he could smell every pair of unwashed underwear he'd left on his floor to handle later.

That was enough to make him start feeling sick again, since on it's own whatever he'd caught had calmed down to him feeling like he'd run the cross-fit version of a marathon or something. His fever had gone down to a manageable level, he was holding down food; really he was just weak from putting up with whatever fucked up version of the flu he caught.

But he'd made it through, proving once again that Tommy Innes Soot was the strongest man alive. Ever.

Wilbur gasped in mock offense at Tommy's insult, sniffing under his arm and scowling when Tommy started laughing at him. "That's enough to quell my concerns. If you're well enough to be insulting me, you're well enough to be left alone."

"I'll insult you further if you don't go."

"Don't taunt me a second time, you aren't the French."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Don't worry about it,", Wilbur grabbed his car keys, "Don't make too much of a mess, but I'm also not expecting you to clean up and messes you do end up making."

"Trash the place, got it."

"If you can muster up enough energy to do so, have fun. Don't overexert yourself, alright?"

"I won't, bye."

"Goodbye, I'll text to check in when I'm on lunch."

And like that, he was alone. The first thing he did was go back to sleep, because six in the morning was way too early to be awake when he wasn't going to school.

He woke up again some time around eleven, needing a second for his eyes to adjust to the light coming in through the window before being able to see his phone well enough to send a thumbs up in response to a text Wilbur had sent asking how he was doing. 

          After that, he got up to make something to eat. The soup his brother had mentioned was just some canned stuff that he'd stuck into a container so it was easier to heat up, and, in Tommy's ever correct opinion, it tasted like it'd been in a tin.

He knew what it should taste like, because it was the one that Wilbur always got for him when he was sick, but this time it had a seriously strong metallic taste along with the normal cheap chicken noodle flavor.

That was also probably because of him being as sick as he was, because even the salt wasn't overpowering it; and that made up, like, ninety-percent of what the soup even was.

He tried adding more after microwaving it for a few minutes, but stopped when he realized it wasn't doing anything except lining him up for sodium poisoning on top of the mystery plague. Adding random stuff from the cupboard didn't really do much to improve it either, and he was just going to settle for sad, metal soup before having another idea.

He remembered seeing something ages ago about sugar cancelling out salt or something, maybe that'd work for the tin aftertaste as well?

Most things on the internet are usually true, and he'd managed to survive fifteen years without problems so far, so he decided to test it.

He didn't want to add too much, since he didn't like sweet things very much, but wasn't really able to stop himself from adding a few tablespoons after tasting how much better it'd been after only one.

That was something he was probably going to have to figure out later, because he didn't have nearly enough energy to try understanding it then. Getting some food in his system made him feel better, and the longer he sat there the more he had to accept that Wilbur had had a point earlier.

He didn't smell the best.

He was, in fact, quite smelly.

To a point that he wasn't going to be able to ignore it, even out of spite. The sofa also stank, probably from him sweating on it for like three days, so he opened the window despite it being the middle of February and went to deal with the stink problem. He also closed the curtains, because holy hell was it bright outside.

          His room was so much worse when the door was opened, and he decided he was just going to steal some clothes from Wilbur after giving up on trying to venture inside without holding his breath.

The shower he took was normal, only real thing of note being how much harder it felt like the water was coming out. It was also louder, maybe the flat building did something to the water pressure while he was sick?

Either way, it was nice after going four days without washing anything beyond his hands. Standing in the shower got rid of what little energy he'd been able to muster in the movement department, so he retreated back to the livingroom to relax again.

It was cold as all hell in there, especially with his hair wet, but having the window open got rid of the horrible smell of must that'd been filling the space before. The sofa was still foul, though, so he ran to steal the blankets off of Wilbur's bed to set up something comfortable on the carpet.

Could he have probably just laid down in his brother's room? Probably.

Did he want to? Not really, that would mean more movement if he decided he wanted a snack or something. Or some water, which was a thought that made him realize that he was pretty thirsty.

He figured that was something he should get before settling on the floor; water is technically important.

Tommy shuffled his way back over to the kitchen, lifting his arm to grab a cup out of the cabinet and almost immediately dropping it.

"Shit-", he reached his hand out toward it as it fell to the floor, feeling something tingle in his wrist as the shatter he was waiting for didn't come. Not even a clatter, the cup didn't hit the floor.

It took him a moment to realize that the cup was currently attached to his arm by something... white.

His immediate first thought was to make a cum joke, before the it really clicked with him that something was incredibly wrong here.

He panicked, trying to detach whatever the string of white shit was from him and breaking the cup anyways from flailing. He managed to get the string off after that, poking at it and finding it to be incredibly sticky.

"Fuck- Damn, this really looks like- Don't say it, this is serious,", he was muttering to himself, mind racing as he tried to piece together exactly what'd happened. 

          He was minding his own business, getting some water, dropped the cup, and reached his hand out to catch it. Tommy slowly moved his hand the same way he had before, trying to think of what exactly he'd done to cause that. He was trying to grab the cup as it fell, but he couldn't quite reach it...

Another string of the white stuff came out of his wrist, this time hitting the ceiling as he fell backwards in surprise.

He thankfully missed landing on the cup he'd broken, catching his breath before immediately hyperventilating because what the fuck.

Surely he'd seen that wrong, surely he'd felt it wrong. Maybe he was having some kind of fucked up fever hallucination; that was something that happened, right?

He scrambled to his feet, going over to the table to grab the thermometer so he could see if he was about to die or something.

His temperature was perfectly normal, lower than it'd been earlier, even. So then maybe his brain had been messed up somehow from the fever he'd had before? But nothing strange had happened before that.

Except for his sense of smell being kind of fucked. Or his taste buds being kind of fucked. Or his eyes being-

Ok, so maybe there'd been some other signs that something was wrong, but those were explainable to some extent. But this? This was some freak of nature type shit that he had no idea where to even begin breaking down.

He nearly called Wilbur to tell him to get home and take him to the emergency room, stopping right before hitting the button as he realized something.

He'd shot some white, sticky stuff out of his wrist. It clung to the cup strong enough to catch it. The second shot was still stuck in the corner of the kitchen ceiling.

Almost like a spider web...

"No fucking shot,", Tommy shakily scrambled to his feet again, going into the kitchen and using the broom to get down the mystery substance so he could have a better look at it.

Now, he wasn't really a spider expert, but it really looked like the webs he used to find in the back garden of the house he'd grown up in. Tommy dropped the broom, taking a step back and looking down at his hands.

He used the other one this time, holding it out toward the wall and trying again. 

          And, again, the web came out in a messy blob that stuck to the edge of the window.

Normally, he'd be very loudly freaking out about something like this, but he was very much in shock about the situation as a whole.

He decided the best course of action was to clean up any sign of the webs, because he didn't want to explain any of this to Wilbur. Not yet, anyways; he needed to figure out a way to make it seem like this wasn't his fault.

Because there was no doubt in his mind that this was because of the spider bite. The bite that'd calmed down to two little black spots on his wrist. If he didn't know any better, he'd assume they were freckles.

Tommy finally got some water after he was done hiding evidence, leaving the remains of the first cup on the floor for Wilbur to deal with as he very skillfully went back to the blanket pile he'd made earlier and promptly passed out. He'd already been tired, and the adrenaline from the web situation running out left him on empty.

He was dragged back into consciousness later when he heard the door open, not moving very much as he hoped he'd be able to go back to sleep.

"Holy shit, it's absolutely frigid in here,", the door closed, and there was a pause, "Tommy?"

"Floor,", Tommy tiredly called back, moving the blanket off of his head.

"And why are you on the floor?"

"'Cause the sofa stinks."

"And you chose the floor over your bed because?"

"'Cause my room stinks."

"I see,", Wilbur came over, squatting down and sticking the back of his hand to Tommy's forehead, "It feels like your fever's gone down more, how are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"Sorry for waking you, then."

"'s ok. I broke a cup earlier."

"You didn't cut yourself on it, did you?"

"No, I left it alone."

Wilbur let out  tired sigh, ruffling Tommy's hair and standing again. "I'll take care of it, go ahead and go back to sleep. I'll see if I can do something about the sofa, as well; so you can get off of the floor."

He gave a tired 'mhm' in response, rolling over and almost immediately passing out again.

The solution to the couch's stench problem was just a few blankets being thrown over it until Wilbur had the time to rent a steam cleaner, but that was better than nothing so Tommy made sure he didn't stick his face too close to it and he was fine for the most part.

          He was able to get away with laying around the house and avoiding school for another couple days before Wilbur deemed him well enough to go again.

And, normally, he would have been dreading it. Going back to school after spending a week doing nothing but watching TV and scrolling through random stuff on his phone sounded like the worst thing imaginable.

But, it also gave him a chance to be alone and figure out what the fuck was going on with the webs he was making.

There was only so much he could do inside of the apartment while he was trying to hide it, and he needed to actually go outside and experiment with it if he wanted to know anything.

The only things he knew for sure is that whatever it was was sticky, it was strong, and it started to decay after a few hours.

That one he learned when he decided to use it to dangle his phone from the ceiling so he didn't have to hold it; leaving him with a very lovely red mark on his face after it fell right on his nose.

Tommy spent his last day off before being made to go back cleaning up the apartment some, since it still fucking reeked, and coming home to see laundry being done was almost enough to convince Wilbur that he was still sick and needed longer. He wasn't that lucky, though, and was being forced to get up at the normal time on an incredibly cold Friday morning.

After that it was same routine, different day. Outside of his brother keeping a closer eye on him than usual, anyways.

Get up, complain, go get breakfast at some random place on the way to the school. Tommy was glad to have a hot drink, taking a sip of the tea Wilbur had bought him-

And immediately spitting it out on the dashboard of the car.

"What the fuck, man?", Wilbur asked, sounding incredibly annoyed.

"This tastes like shit."

"It's exactly the same as it always is."

"They must have fucked it up or something, this is nasty."

"Here, let me see it,", Wilbur grabbed the cup from him, taking a sip, "Plain black tea, tastes as horrible as always. Your tastebuds might be fucked from being sick, still."

Tommy folded his arms with a sigh. "That's fucking stupid."

"Mope about it while you clean the spit off of my fucking car,", Wilbur handed him a napkin, not taking his eyes off of the road.

"That's so rude and inconsiderate, I'm mourning here."

"The fuck are you mourning?"

"A perfectly good drink."

"You can still drink it."

"No, it tastes like dirt."

"Then don't complain. Wipe up the mess you made before it dries, because then I'm going to make you clean the whole thing."

Tommy took the napkin from him, muttering out a mix of swears and complaints as he did the bare minimum of cleaning up the tea he'd spat.

          And things were back on track after that. He dumped the tea in the parking lot, filled the cup with some water from a drinking fountain inside the school, and took his drink and lukewarm bagel to his usual table to wait for his friends.

A few different people asked if he was alright as they came in, and that's how he found out that his brother had been very poorly hiding his concern for him once he'd gone back to work; meaning Tommy now had some very prime bullying material.

He thought up different ways to make fun of his brother for that as he went to take a bite of his food, having to stop himself from spitting it out like he had the tea.

It didn't taste nearly as bad, but it sure as hell didn't taste like it should have. It was overly salty, and there was some chemical taste that he couldn't quite place in the sad puck of egg in the middle of it.

He managed to get down the first bite, needing to drink nearly half of the water he had to get the taste to go away.

Tommy opened the notes app on his phone, finally breaking and admitting to himself that his sense of taste being completely fucked was probably related to whatever was going on with the webs. He'd almost exclusively been eating the rest of the canned soup while he was home, so he'd been figuring it was something wrong with that before. But the fact that it was also an issue with the tea, and now the bagel...

Tommy was startled by someone sitting directly next to him, quickly turning off his phone screen before whoever it was could see.

"So, how was being on death's door for a week?"

He rolled his eyes, playing it off and giving Tubbo a shove out of his personal space. "I was not 'on death's door'; I spent a couple days sleeping, and then I got to play animal crossing."

"Any idea what was wrong with you?"

The temptation to tell the short boy what happened was there, but Tommy decided that it would be a terrible idea to explain it; especially at school. "No clue, just know that it felt fucking awful and I would rather actually die than go through that again."

"I can arrange that."

"Arrange yourself a fucking therapy session."

"You first."

"Excuse you, I am free of sin."

"That's bullshit."

"Now Tubbo, there's no need to lash out at me for being the perfect example of what a man should strive for. Really, you should be thanking me for my input."

"You're incredibly lucky you were sick recently, or I'd be striking you down with the might of god."

"You're built like a toddler, what fucking might are you talking about?" 

          Ranboo broke them up when he eventually got there, and Tommy decided to thank him for this by stealing his muffin.

"Wow, really?"

"You can have my sandwich, if you want."

"You're really gonna take the muffin that I paid for with my money, and offer me a cold bagel you already took a bite out of in exchange?"

"Yes. Do you want it or not?"

"Sure,", they shrugged, taking it without much hesitation.

Tubbo wrinkled his nose as he watched Tommy take a large bite out of the cafeteria muffin. "I thought you didn't like the school's breakfast shit?"

"I don't,", Tommy skillfully ignored how he was legitimately enjoying the usually far too sweet muffin, "Shit's been tasting weird lately, Wil said he thinks it's from me being sick."

"Maybe it fixed you."

"Fuck you, I wasn't broken. And even if I was, the only thing that'd 'fix' me is a two liter of diet coke and the school getting burnt down."

"I won't lie, my first thought when he said 'fixed' was in a dog sense; like, neutered,", Ranboo snickered, cackling when Tommy tried to shove him off the bench onto the floor.

The school day practically flew past after that, with Tommy anxiously waiting for it to be over so he could go experiment with his wrist goop. Wilbur had to stay at the school to catch up on stuff he'd missed while he was taking care of Tommy, meaning that Tommy just had to say he was going home and his brother wouldn't follow up on that.

And, being fair, he was going home first. He had to drop his bag off and change into a hoodie or something so he could hide his face in case someone came across him shooting sus white stuff out of his arms. After that it was a matter of finding somewhere to shoot the sus white stuff, because doing something like that out in the open in the middle of the city seemed like a bad idea.

That led to him Googling abandoned buildings in his area and settling on some factory that hadn't been in use for a good ten to fifteen years; deciding that science was far more important than tetanus. He was probably up to date on his shots.

Probably.

~-~-~

Next Chapter

~-~-~

Spiderinnit time! pog!

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 9: In Which I Am Largely Satisfied

I...don't really know what to write about yesterday, if I'm honest. I think it was probably the least interesting and blogworthy day of possibly any trip I have undertaken, so please do be aware and pre-warned that this entry may be even less of a zinger than usual.

It began with me waking up at a fairly comfortable 8am after a night of weirdly disjointed sleep, which gave me ample time to deal with the morning's necessities. Owing to getting my exit strategy down to a fine art at this point, I found myself shitted, showered and packed with an incredibly pleasing and uncharacteristically huge glut of free time on my hands before I was due to catch my bus. I had also made sandwiches.

I hoisted my insanely heavy bag back onto my back, wiped down the desk, which I had, over the course of the previous few days absolutely coated with butter in the pursuit of making lunch in lieu of a useable kitchen and set off, walking the same route to the nearby metro station that I had for the previous two days, getting off at the same stop and walking, without incident to a bus station I had already been to.

The bus station is modestly sized and intuitive to navigate, so I found my stance within seconds and waited there for a not-uncomfortable amount of time before being allowed on board the bus to my next destination: Granada.

Taking my seat on the bus was a bit of a faff, I suppose, as I was asked to move from my assigned seat by a couple who wanted to sit together and then from whichever of their assigned seats I was now sat in by another, different couple, who also wanted to sit together, but all of this was done very politely and in good humour, so it is understandably hard to spin any kind of tale out of. I had even managed to nab myself a window seat in the process, so...hurrah.

I did have someone sit next to me in the end – a diminutive French woman, though she spend the first two hours of the three hours jaunt asleep, head lolling backwards and mouth hanging open, while I used the time to catch up with this scintillating blog. For the final hour, she did wake up to take a picture of the bus we were on from what had to be every conceivable angle possible, in order to post a million different stories on instagram with captions reading things like “this girl is on a bus!”, which I know because I was looking over her shoulder - sue me – and yeah that was slightly irritating/borderline deranged, but it wasn't that intrusive and only lasted about fifty minutes before we were deposited in Granada and I would never have to see her again. This isn't foreshadowing for once.

I hadn't eaten lunch on the bus, as I was sitting next to someone and so didn't want to assault them with chewing noises and the faint waft of meat – not that it stopped the French girl from tucking into a box of penne pasta and bin juice, three inches from my face – so when we arrived in the city, I walked to a nearby park, where I sat on a bench and had some lunch, in what is becoming a bit of a tradition on this trip.

Lunch finished and podcast enjoyed, I hopped – again without incident or significant effort – onto the city's easy to navigate metro system and within fifteen minutes, stood outside my hostel for the next few days. This would be the first – and indeed only – time I would be in shared accommodation on this trip. That, at least, should provide some juicy bloggins, I thought.

It, however, did not. This was largely due to this hostel – Broz Hostel, if you find yourself here and without a room – is about the best shared accommodation I have ever lived in. It's spremely comfortable, has private lights, sockets and shelves on every bunk; the beds aren't made of rickety old metal bars that squeak and let all your shit fall off the side in the night; there are thick blackout curtains on every bunk that offer comprehensive protection from both light and the accusing stares of others and most surprisingly of all, all of my dorm-mates are deathly, deathly quiet and respectful and friendly (when they whisper a pleasant greeting to you, for fear of upsetting anyone else in the room). I just cannot generate material, today.

I had a nap not long after I arrived; my sleep from the previous night not having been the best, then set about having, as noted that it would be in the previous entry, a right nice rest day. I spent the majority of it finishing up my Christmas shopping, which satisfies the rare double-whammy criteria of being unpublishable due to both potential spoiler and just not being at all interesting in the slightest. Killing it, today.

With my shopping handled quickly, efficiently and without...too much faff, I jumped out to a nearby supermarket to buy the ingredients for a lovely salmony, lemony pasta without difficulty or embarrassment, then went home to make and eat it in a disappointingly quiet and well stocked hostel kitchen. I burned it – the food, not the kitchen – and it was slightly too salty for my tastes, but it was also the first time I had cooked myself anything proper on this trip, to date, so I award it 10/10. Would – and probably will – make it again, tomorrow.

I sauntered back upstairs to my bunk and worked on presents a little longer, definitely being the loudest person in the room in the process, until about 1am when I found myself too tired to continue and turned into bed. It was exactly then that two drunk girls returned to the room, whispering in that incredibly loud way that drunk people trying to be quiet do, which just exaggerates all their plosives in their speech and is actually, probably, more distracting than just speaking normally. Especially if they just spoke normally outside the room, instead...

“Oh boy” I whispered to myself, rubbing my sleepy little hands together with glee, getting ready to enjoy being absolutely furious for a little bit, “This'll be something I can complain about, at least...”

They stopped whispering forty five seconds later and went to bed, very quietly. The loudest thing in the room now just the noise of me – for some reason – still rubbing my hands together.

I eventually stopped doing that – it was a bit weird, to be honest – and followed the drunk girls' suit, turning in for a night of basically fine and, crucially, very quiet sleep. Tomorrow's entry will be better. Probably.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life Goes On

This if for @buckybarnesplumwhore​

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; grieving, funeral, breeding, handcuffs, warnings are not exhaustive so read at your own discretion.

This is dark! Andy Barber x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You volunteer at the local youth center but when one of the kids meets an unfortunate end, you cross paths with his father. No stranger to grief, you try to help him cope but find it a bigger than task that you expected.

Note: When I started writing, I had no plan. When I kept writing, there was still no plan. And then it just all kinda happened.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

It was too sunny for a funeral. A funeral come too soon.

The service was held out in the sun, rows of wooden chairs and a sombre old priest. You never knew if the Barbers were religious but it was easy to find a holy man in Massachusetts, as easy as those early years of settlement found in textbooks. 

There were no flowers, only two oblong caskets shrouded in black cloth, the name of each of the dead on silver placards, no pictures, no souvenir of who they were.

It was like Andy was already trying to forget them. He was at the front, the grieving widower and father. You were lost somewhere in the middle with his co-workers, there out of propriety more than empathy, and distant relatives who attended out of courtesy, some passing acquaintances who followed the story in the papers more than out of compassion. It was a spectacle and Andy had done his best from feeding the leering onlookers.

You knew Jacob more than his parents. He was younger than you, almost ten years apart. You knew him from the youth group you volunteered for, the same one you'd been in at his age. He was out of place there, he was from a better neighbourhood than the other kids, they called him the rich brat, and he resented himself more for it than he did them.

His attendance kept his mother happy. He didn't like the individual counseling, he didn't talk, so she put him in the group and he talked there. Sometimes. The kids never went on philosophical monologues but they understood each other and shared what they needed to.

Laurie was always late to pick him up. So he stayed to help stack the chairs and you ended up waiting with him, making sure he wasn't alone in the dark. He hated that at first too, until he realised you weren't on the stoop to council or judge. You were just two people, chatting to pass the time.

Sometimes Andy picked him up. He was friendlier than Laurie. Jacob's mother was always in a rush, even on her way home where there was no deadline. She said thanks, maybe, and drove off as she began to lecture Jacob about how he wore his hat. Andy offered you a ride, every time, as if he had some compulsion to be the good guy, the saviour. You always said no, the bus was a five minute ride to your building, fifteen minutes if you walked.

Now Jacob was dead, his mother too. Another tragedy inflicted upon those least likely. Even death didn't stop the whispers, even that venue, the priest's collar, the Biblical dirges, the grim family man in black did not silence them. It sickened you as the service ended and the people rose in a hushed murmur.

Andy left without talking to anyone. The procession of cars would drive through the streets with flags to mark the grieving on their way to the interment. It was as if Andy was doing what was expected more than what he felt he owed the deceased. He was ever the lawyer, formal and curt.

You followed the grey parade. Not out of obligation but out of genuine regret. Jacob seemed like a lost kid, even in death. The rumours, the accusations, the suspicion, followed him. The people didn't watch the dirt fall from the shovel to see him at peace, they watched it as some grand finale to the great show of the Barbers.

When the metal no longer cut and scattered the soil, the crowd thinned out. You stayed as the diggers packed up. You were sad for Jacob, for Laurie. Andy hadn't been there to see the burial. You couldn't blame him but you were surprised. He just disappeared after the service, apparently done with his part in the play. 

You went closer and stared at the new stone that stretched above both plots. Laurie Barber… and her son, Jacob Barber. May they rest. It was as short, as minimal as anything else about the affair. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. You didn't know if Jacob was a bad seed, it wasn't your job to make that call, but he had just been a kid and all that potential was now six feet down.

"Didn't think anyone would stick around," the dark figure stepped up beside you, his steps muted by the grass, "least of all, you."

"I'm sorry, I…" you looked at Andy and then the dirt, "I'll go."

"Wait," he said before you could move, "I thought-- I thought I wanted to be alone for this…" he shoved his hand in his pocket, "but I've been alone since it happened and I'm realising, I'm gonna be alone from here on out."

You didn't say a word. You didn't know what you could say. He'd heard a hundred apologies, a hundred condolences.

"I'm happy someone stayed, that someone cared," he cleared his throat, "thank you."

You nodded and played with the buttons on your cardigan.

"He was too. Happy, you know, that someone cared. I think back now and I realise that you probably saw him more than me. He was always excited to go to the centre but he got in that car and he just… deflated." He shook his head, "maybe this is better. One way or the other, he wanted to get away from me but he never could get away from Laurie. She wouldn't let him go."

He chuckled sardonically but it quickly fizzled in his throat.

"Sorry, I'm rambling…"

"You're processing," you said, "a lot of the kids down at the centre, they lost parents, one way or the other, orphans, fosters… I always told them that they didn't have to make sense because grief never really does."

"Now that makes a lot of sense," he said, "but you shouldn't have to listen to me."

"I shouldn't or you don't think you should say any of it?"

"Hmmm," he hummed, "yeah, maybe."

"I don't get paid to listen to those kids, I just get a time and a place to do so. This isn't different. It's just talking and a lot of that is just figuring things out. Listening is easy, you're doing the hard part."

"Jeez, you come up with this stuff on your own or is there some sort of how-to book?"

You lifted your chin and sucked in your lip. You could tell where Jacob got the bite from.

"Sorry, that was… mean," he said after the silence settled with the dirt, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you said.

"You got somewhere to be?"

"No…" you answered cautiously.

"Do you think you might wanna listen to me a little more? I'll buy you a coffee for the trouble."

"You wanna talk? To me?"

"Better than anyone I do know," he snorted, "they all just give me that dumb look. They pity me, judge me. You don't have to say yes but I started now, if I stop, I'll...stop."

"Coffee?" You glanced over at him, "I'd rather tea."

"I'm sure they got that too," he fiddled with the trim of his pocket, "anytime you wanna bail, let me know."

"If I can handle teen angst, I think I can handle you."

🖤

That afternoon wasted away in the corner of a café. It felt like any other day but for Andy, you knew, it was likely the worst day of his life. Likely a day he wouldn’t forget. You sat patiently until the last of your tea was cold. He didn’t finish his coffee, he hardly even touched it. When you checked the time, he looked down embarrassed.

“It’s late,” he said, “I… I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”

“I didn’t have anything to do. I doubt you did either,” you swept up the paper cup and your purse.

“No, really, I mean, you don’t know me. You knew Jacob and I just sat here and talked your ear off for hours. I--” he looked out the window, “I know that when I go home, the house will still be empty. That’s why I’m here.”

You looked past him as he turned back. You chewed your lip, “Andy, have you looked into counseling yet?”

“It feels… too early for that.”

“Too early?”

“I don’t want to let it go. Don’t want to let them go,” he sucked his hands in his pockets, “if I go, that’s what they’ll tell me to do.”

“No, they’d help you live with it, not forget it,” you said, “but I know, it’s scary. Have you done anything? Read anything?”

“Read?”

“Self-help isn’t for everyone and those dummy books aren’t great I admit, but sometimes a start is better than nothing. What about… a routine? Do you have one?”

“I work, I come home, I sleep, and try not to notice they’re gone,” he shrugged, “and repeat. Lot of overtime.”

“You’re still working?” you went to the door and he followed.

“Well, I talked to you. That’s what I’m going to do about it.”

You stepped out into the evening din and spun to look at him. You crossed your arms and stood across from him on the pavement.

“Well, unfortunately there’s an age limit down at the centre,” you said, “but I could give you a number for an adult group.”

“No, I don’t wanna talk to a group of sad parents and widowers. Just remind me how pathetic I really am,” he scoffed.

“Do you think that what you’re doing right now is better?”

“Do you have a degree in this?” he wondered, “what are you doing down at that youth centre talking to degenerates?”

“I have a certificate that says I’m good at listening, but no, I couldn’t afford a degree,” you dropped your arms, “but, will you come down? Sit in on a session. Just listen… for Jacob? It helped him, I think, after a while?”

“With the kids?”

“Yeah, with the kids,” you said, “maybe it will help you decide.”

“Decide what?”

“If you’re going to keep doing what you're doing; nothing, or if you’re going to try. Trust me, after a while, just sitting there, ignoring it, it gets old and it won’t get better.”

He looked down and stared at his leather shoe as he ground his toe into the pavement, “is that allowed? Am I allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not. I have parents sit in all the time.”

“But I’m not-- not anymore,” he gulped.

“You are,” you patted his arm gently, “you always will be.”

“What time?” he raised his head.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays at four-thirty. We do accept late arrivals. Kids come in and out. Usually hang out til seven before I let them go.”

“I think I can make that work,” he exhaled deeply, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with me.”

You nodded and gave a bittersweet smile, “I miss Jacob too. I might be little more than a glorified babysitter but it means something to me. The kids… they feel like they’re mine sometimes. At least on those two nights a week.”

“Well…” he peered down the street, “you need a ride?”

You chuckled quietly, “you now, I think this time, I do.”

🖤

Andy was early. He took a chair near the wall as the kids flopped on the low sofas and into the colourful armchairs. A government grant had seen an upgrade in the lounge, although the kitchen needed some work as the cooking classes were still short on supplies. Dark circles darkened his eyes and the hairline wrinkles around them added to the hollow effect. He wasn’t sleeping.

You waited for the room to quiet. You greeted the kids and went through the usual ice breaker; one bad thing, one good thing, and one way they could improve the bad. Many of them were reluctant at first, they resisted what they thought were cheesy and inane exercises but they all came around. They were able to voice things that otherwise would be kept to themselves and they were afforded a respectful and often rapt audience.

When you finished, you kept from naming your own three. You looked at Andy.

“I’m sorry, everyone, I’m so forgetful. This is Andy,” you gestured to him, “he’s sitting in with us today. Andy, why don’t you tell us your bad thing, your good thing, and one thing you can do to improve the bad.”

He looked startled but he stood and cleared his throat. He glanced around at the kids and the shadow left his face. “Well, I lost a file, there were free bagels at work, and… I guess I could try to look again tomorrow.”

“Very good,” you smiled, “alright, my turn at last. My bad thing is I spilled tea on my shirt, my good thing is it’s a dark shirt, and my thing to improve is… wear a bib.” You laughed as you audience stay stone faced, “alright, alright, I’ll just be more careful and not run with hot liquids.”

You sat and started with Danica. She was always the most talkative, that encouraged the other kids. Today was no exception and you had to remind her to save some time for everyone else. Erik was next, then Andre, and Shamea. You almost didn’t notice Andy as he stood and sidled against the wall. Not until he was at the door, he looked back darkly and you saw his chest fall heavily. His nostrils flared and he was gone.

You tried not to show your disappointment, tried not to let the kids notice. They were all caught up in the circle and breaking it was never good. Shamea passed the stuffed bunny to Naima and you focused on her. Maybe it was too soon for Andy, you understood that, but you hoped too that he might have found a piece of Jacob there.

Before the kids left, you handed out the coloured markers and they each scribbled down a few words before a high-five. They passed through the open door in pairs and singles, and you bent to add your own note. You tucked the card into your bag and locked up. Jacob was usually the only one to hang around. Not anymore.

You headed out the front door with a wave to Martha at the front desk and took a gulp of the fresh evening air. There was someone sat on the flat stone at the bottom of the broad rail of the stairs. You recognised Andy as you neared, much too big to be a teen.

“I’m sorry,” he dabbed his nose with his sleeve, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay in that room.”

“But you’re still here,” you said.

“I didn’t wanna just leave you hanging but… they all remind me of him,” he stood, “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies,” you opened your purse and searched, “I had the kids put this together. Actually, it was Milo’s idea. He didn’t know it was you but he wanted to send it in the mail--”

“What?” he took the card and opened it. He turned so he could read it in the yellow light of the street lamp, “oh my god.”

“Is it too much?”

“No, no,” he ran his thumb over the ink, “it’s…” he closed it and tucked it into his jacket, “the only other thing I’ve got is the bill for the caskets. It’s… amazing. Thank you.”

“Not at all. They always surprise me,” you said, “most of the time, in good ways.”

“You need a ride?” he checked his watch.

“I don’t live far,” you waved him off, “but I always appreciate the offer.”

He nodded and frowned, “and if… if I didn’t want to be alone? Would you grab a burger with me? Have you eaten?”

“Not since lunch, I, uh… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you said.

“You gotta be up early?”

“Nah, not too early.”

“What do you do? I mean, outside of this?” he turned and directed you to his car.

“Data entry,” you sighed, “it’s not very exciting but I work remotely and the pay is decent and I still have time for the kids.”

“It’s a living,” he said as the door locks clicked and you grabbed the handle, “no judgment. Trust me, being a lawyer, it’s really not as glamourous as it seems.”

🖤

Andy’s routine changed. He came around every Thursday and listened. After a few weeks, the kids figured out who he was. They didn’t treat him any differently and even invited him to join in on the teambuilding games you arranged. He wasn’t bad help as you welcomed a few new members from the group home.

That night, you weren’t feeling great. Even the kids hadn’t helped much. You were exhausted and nauseous. You blamed it on the late night shawarma. You said goodbye to the kids and packed up. Andy stacked the chairs without you asking, even when you told him not to.

You leaned heavily on the table and checked your phone before slipping it into your bag. You wiped your forehead and shivered. Some gravol, ginger ale, and sleep would be your indulgence that night.

“You okay?” Andy asked.

“Stomach thing,” you rubbed your middle, “nothing major.”

“You don’t look great,” he said, “well, I don’t mean it like-- are you sure--”

“Oh, gee,” you slid past him and out the door.

You ran to the restroom across the hall and into a stall. You wretched and the acid seared your throat. The bile bubbled in the toilet water and you shuddered. You heaved a few more times and rinsed your mouth in the sink.

Andy was waiting for you in the hall, “let me drive you tonight,” he insisted, “even if it’s just a block away.”

“I can’t even say no,” you grumbled as he handed you your purse.

“What’s wrong? You eat something?”

“I think,” you groaned as he held the door open and the cool air outside chilled the sweat on your neck, “urgh, I hope it’s only that.”

You got to his car and fell heavily into the seat. You slumped against the console as he started the car. He paused as the engine idled and felt your forehead. He nudged you back against the seat and turned his hand to press the back of his fingers to your cheek.

“You got a fever,” he said, “I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”

“Oh, those kids carry bugs like rats,” you muttered, “just take me home, I’ll get over it.”

He pulled out of his spot and you closed your eyes. You leaned against the window, frigid against your forehead and hugged yourself. You dozed off before he even turned out of the lot, the belt keeping you from folding over entirely.

🖤

You woke up between fresh linen. The sunlight was soft in its early hues. It wasn't your bed. You rolled onto your side and your stomach ached from how empty it was. You pushed back the thick duvet, you were sweating. You didn't remember more than the car ride and a few fuzzy glimpses of the bottom of a bucket. 

You were cold again and pulled the blanket back. The door was open and Andy filled it as if he'd heard your grumbles. He stood at the bottom of the bed in a pair of plaid pants and a blue tee.

"Why am I here?" You asked. 

"You fell asleep. You're sick. I couldn't just leave you outside your building," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Bad," you replied curtly, "I can go," you sat up, "stop by the pharmacy, go hide in my own bed."

"You should stay here," he insisted, "just until the fever breaks."

"Really… ugh," you moaned as your belly clenched, "Andy, I should--"

"Lay down?" He came around and caught your shoulder, "I used to call in sometimes when Jacob was home sick. When he was a lot younger and… I stir up a man cup of noodles."

"You don't have to--"

"It's completely selfish," he interrupted, "it's been a long time since I had someone to take care of or at least it feels like it."

You were light-headed as you tried to stand but he kept you from getting to your feet, "I guess I can stay a little longer."

"Don't act like I don't owe you," he tutted, "now relax. I'll get you some soup. You need something in your system. I got some anti-nausea pills in the cupboard, too."

"Thanks but you don't owe me anything. I'm gonna owe you big."

"Why don't we just call it even then," he backed up, "seeing as that's my bed and my couch, it's really not made for sleeping." He stretched his arms and his shoulders cracked, "especially at my age."

🖤

You stayed another night. You tried to convince Andy to let you take the couch instead but he was a lawyer and rarely lost an argument. It was easier to eat by the evening but you were still dizzy and you couldn't stop yawning. You'd never been so tired.

Despite your uneasiness at overstaying your welcome, you slept more heavily than before. Your guilt didn't keep you awake for long as you sank into a deep sleep and you woke slowly, a murmur escaping your lips as grogginess weighed you down. You were still so very tired but it was already morning.

You stretched and your wrist caught. You winced and tugged at your arm. You sat up in horror as you stared at the metal cuff attached to the hoop drilled into the headboard. You tugged until your arm hurt and your hand throbbed. What the fuck.

"Andy! Andy! What--"

"Shhhhh," Andy hushed you as he entered, "it's okay, you're okay."

"No, I'm not. What did you do?" You pulled again and the metal pinched your skin.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he said calmly.

"Unlock it. Let me go," you struggled as you kicked off the blankets, "Andy, what the fuck?"

"Hey, don't talk like that. It's...nasty."

"I don't understand," you began to pant, "why are you doing this?"

The panic crawled like tendrils up your neck and back. You twisted and pulled but the metal cuff didn't budge. You felt the bed shift and Andy grabbed your shoulder. He forced you down, pinning your other hand beside your head.

"I'm taking care of you," he said, "don't be so ungrateful."

"I can take care of myself. Let me go, please."

"No, you need me," he snarled, "like I need you."

"Andy, you're wrong--"

"Stop!" He covered your mouth, "stop! You don't know what you need. Now be still. Be quiet." He squeezed until your jaw hurt, "don't make this difficult."

He slowly lifted his hand and you didn’t move. You stared at his hand then looked at his face. There was a desperate anger in the depths of his oceanic eyes. He sat back and his jaw clenched as he watched you.

"I'm going to make breakfast. Be good. You need to eat." He backed off the bed and went to the door, "I mean it."

He left you and you listened until pans clinked and clanged in the kitchen below. You folded your thumb against your palm and tried to wiggle free of the cuff. It was too tight. There was only one other way out and you couldn't do it alone.

"HELP! HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE!" You screamed, "someone help me!"

The footsteps hammered up the stairs and Andy stormed in. He grabbed you and clamped his hand over your mouth again.

"Listen, no one can hear you, you got that? Windows are soundproof, but I really don't want to hear it so it's up to you if I gag you."

You blinked and your lip trembled against his hand. Your eyes rounded and you nodded stiffly. He tore his hand away and sighed as he clapped his hands on his legs in frustration.

"Good," he said quietly, "now, let's just hope," he stood and strode to the door, "that the bacon didn't burn."

🖤

You fell asleep again shortly after eating, even with the adrenaline and panic surging through your veins. You woke again in the afternoon. Your limbs were heavy but the fever was gone and your stomach felt better but you were still terribly tired. 

Andy was there. He had a leather file in his lap as he looked over papers and scratched his beard. He sensed your movement and looked over at you.

"Hungry?" He asked, "you slept through lunch."

"No," you smelled your sweat on the duvet, "but… can I have a shower? I haven't...since I got here."

"A shower?" He closed the folder and stood. He set it down and pursed his lips as he thought. "Fifteen minutes," he said as he dug around in his pocket, "I'll be here."

He unlocked the cuff and you rubbed your wrist as you sat up. He stayed close as you rose and stayed between you and the bedroom door as he pointed you to the bathroom.

"I don't have much for you to wear yet but you can take another one of my shirts," he said.

You nodded and closed the door between you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself to the wind. How was this the same man that you spoke to that day at the cemetery?

🖤

He slept beside you that night. You were on your side, your arm bound again by the cuff with the pillow between it and your head. You were uncomfortable, more so with him against your back. He wore only a pair of boxers. You shied away when he undressed and never looked at him again.

You dozed despite your nerves. You couldn't shake the drowsiness. You just felt more and more tired. When you opened your eyes, his arm was around you. He ran his fingers over your stomach, fingers crawling beneath the baggy tee shirt. You shivered and he nuzzled the back of your neck.

"I was thinking… well, I've been thinking for a while now, how happy we could be," he said, "I'm still young enough to try again, do it right and you… you're young, ready." His hand brushed up to your chest and he cupped your tit, "you're kind, you're caring, you're...beautiful. You’re my second chance."

“Andy,” your voice was brittle as your pulse beat furiously, “what you’re doing, it’s not right. You need to let me go.”

He went rigid and his hand stopped. He unsnaked his arm from around you and the springs coiled as he fell heavily onto his back. In the silence, you could only hear his steady breaths and a low growl.

“No, I’m helping you,” he said, “like you’ve helped me.”

“Andy, please,” you eased onto your back and looked over at him, “this isn’t how you fix this.”

“How do I?” he snarled, “huh? How? You don’t know!” he sat up and glared down at you, “you can’t know.”

“You think hurting me is helping me? That’s what you’re doing.”

“No, no, no,” he bent his legs as he grasped his head and gripped it as if it would crack, “No! I haven’t hurt you. I feed you, I keep you clean, I… I take care of you!”

“Andy,” you reached over shakily and touched his bare shoulder, “this isn’t what I want and I know you don’t want it either. You want someone who really loves you--”

“You love me!” he turned so quickly you yelped. He gripped your jaw tightly as he held himself against you, “you love me,” he pressed his lips to yours and you murmured in surprise, “you love me,” it was a maddened chant as he pulled back, “...love me.”

“And--”

His hand flew up to smother you and he lifted himself over you. His knees pressed to your legs until they parted and his other hand explored your curves through the rumpled cotton. You squeaked and tensed against his touch, your wrist chafing from the cuff.

“Shhh,” he hushed as he pushed the shirt up.

He kept his hand on your mouth as he slid down your body and left a trail of kisses along your torso as he unveiled it. He bunched the tee above your chest and bent to dote on your tits. You shuddered and pushed on his head as you mumbled into his palm.

His fingers tickled along your side and hooked into the side of the drawstring shorts he gave you. He tugged until the string snapped and edged them down as he continued to tend to your chest. You kicked around him and felt his bulge as he leaned into you.

He ripped his hand away and sat up. He grabbed the waist of the shorts and wrenched them down your legs, quickly taking his between them again. You wriggled and batted out at his chest as his thumbs pressed against your hip bones and his hands crept down to knead your thighs.

“I can start again,” he brushed his fingers down your vee and you trembled as they danced along your cunt.

“No, Andy, please, you can still stop--”

“Shhhh, honey,” he pushed between your folds and you gasped, “it’s okay. I’ll still take care of you,” he glided over your cunt and made you twitch, “and the baby.”

He poked along your entrance and you whined helplessly as you reached to the cuff and pulled with both arms. Every muscles in your strained as you tried to break free of the headboard. He pushed a finger inside of you and you cried out.

“Andy, stop, please, no--”

He added another finger and slipped them in and out of you as he purred. You looked at his face and it sent a chill through you. His eyes were dark and clung to the movement of his hand, his brow set and his jaw squared with his intent. He wasn’t the grieving widower, he wasn’t the man lost and lonely, he was a monster.

“That’s it,” he turned his hand and flicked your clit with his thumb, “you want me. I feel it.”

You looked away as your wetness spread to his knuckles and along your folds. He kept his thumb moved as he curled his fingers inside of you and the pressure built as the tip of his touch. You gritted your teeth and shook your head helplessly.

“No,” you whispered, “no, no, no…”

He took his hand away suddenly and you felt empty. He lifted himself on his knees and rolled down his boxers. You didn’t look at him, you couldn’t, you only saw the silhouette of his nudity.

He pushed your thighs apart and spread himself over you, his elbow just beside you as he felt around between your bodies. His hot breath grazed your cheek and he kissed it firmly as he angled his tip between your folds. Your thighs clenched around him in a futile act of resistance as he found your entrance.

He pushed inside slowly and brought his other arm up beside you. He forced your head straight and you squeezed your eyes shut. He cradled your head between his hands and his lips brushed yours as he spoke, “open your eyes. Look at me.”

“Andy,” you murmured as he slowly got deeper, “please--”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “look at me!”

Your eyes snapped open and met his stormy blue ones. He bucked his hips and impaled you completely. You exclaimed and grasped his thick bicep in shock, your other hand balled above the cuff. Your legs bent around his thick thighs as you tried to stop him.

“God, you feel so good,” he purred as he began to rock, “don’t I feel good too?”

Your lashes fluttered away the rising tears and you sucked your lip in to keep from making a sound. You could look away as he held your head straight, his hand clamping around your jaw as he other arm bent beneath yours.

The room echoed with the noise of his flesh slapping yours as he sped up, his grunts and groans interlaced with the sickening symphony. You quivered as his pelvis rubbed against yours and stoked the heat in your core. You could not hold back the illicit response of your body as he ravaged it.

Your breath grew heavier and he gulped it down as he kissed you again, forcing his tongue between your lips as he devoured you. The whole bed moved in time with your body and the headboard knocked against the wall as his thrusts came closer and closer together and he buried himself as deep as he could with each tilt of his hips.

He drew his mouth away and pressed his cheek to yours as his muscles tensed and he puffed into the pillow, “this is it, honey. It all starts here.”

“Ah, please…” your voice fizzled and smothered your moan against his shoulder as your body spasmed. Your legs bent around him firmly as you orgasmed and your body arched beneath his desperately.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it. You take me so well. See… it was meant to… be.”

His breaths grew more rampant with his rhythm. His hand slipped down to cradle your cheek and his thumb stroked your flesh tenderly as he dipped into you over and over. His deep groans grew louder around you. He jerked into you sharply and his motion stuttered. He gripped your hip and held you down as he sheathed himself in your walls. 

He quaked as his hips slowed and he flooded you. He exhaled and as his lungs emptied, the strength left him entirely and he lowered himself over you weakly. His body pressed yours into the mattress, your sweat and his turned sticky as the air settled over you.

He stayed like that for what felt like forever. He moved slowly to lift himself up and he sat back, watching his dick slide out of you. Your thighs shook as your legs splayed around him. You felt his cum leak from you and he dragged his fingers along your cunt and scooped it back into you, coating his fingers in as he pushed them past your entrance once more. He smiled at the wet sounds of your cunt.

“That felt like the one,” he said, “but we can try again...”

He pulled his fingers out of you and admired the slickness that glistened over them. He reached down and gripped his dick, half-soft and spent. He winced as he began to stroke himself and let out stifled moans between his teeth.

“Maybe this time,” he purred as he angled himself inside of you again and lifted your legs against his torso. He bit his lips as he trembled, his cock oversensitive and overworked, “as many times as it takes, honey.”

[dreamerstreamer]

Sugar & Spice

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: The holidays are here! What better way is there to end the year than with Clay and some cookies?

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: happy holidays, folks! due to popular demand, this year’s holiday special is written for dream. i hope you all sincerely enjoy and have a wonderful day!

You peered down at the bowl in front of you, your eyes narrowing. Needs more... yellow.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you reached across the counter for a small bottle, quickly unscrewing the cap. Holding it over the bowl, you gently squeezed until a single drop fell atop the fluffy frosting sitting in the center. Your lips quirked upward, a twang of satisfaction running through you.

You hummed as picked up the bowl with one hand and grabbed a wooden spoon with the other. Sticking the spoon in, you began to stir, watching with hopeful eyes as the frosting’s hue slowly began to shift ever so slightly. A few moments later, your arm stilled, pride swelling in your chest at the perfect shade of lime green that stared back at you.

“There we go.”

All of a sudden, a beep filled the air, and you startled. Realization quickly washed over you, and your shoulders sank. The oven’s done preheating, you thought to yourself with a flicker of joy.

Flipping around, you slid the bowl across the counter toward the other bowl of frosting you had already made, then turned on your heel. You reached for the oven mitts hanging on the cabinet door, slipping them on with a grin as your fingers fit perfectly inside. You were about to focus your attention on the silver tray of dough you had laid out earlier when a dash of brown caught your attention. You whirled, your gaze landing on a familiar, furry face who was about six inches too close to your precious icing.

“Patches,” you said slowly, eyeing the paw she had raised over the bowl’s middle, “if you’re about to do what I think you’re going to do, don’t.”

She froze at the sound of your voice, her movements coming to a halt as you inched closer toward her.

“Seriously, Patches. You’ll get sick.”

She blinked at you, her big, green eyes scanning your face as her whiskers twitched. You held your breath as you stared back, your fingers crossing behind your back.

Her tail flicked once—twice.

Then she lowered her paw.

You nearly sank to the ground in relief, quickly leaning over to snatch the bowl away and clutch it to your chest. “Thank goodness,” you mumbled to yourself, your eyes squeezing shut. “I thought I was going to have to sta—“

“Hi.”

You yelped, leaping with a start as you whipped around, your fingers curling around the edge of the bowl. On the other side of the kitchen island stood Clay, his hand scratching behind Patches’ ear as she nuzzled up into his touch. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you let out a deep breath, your hand resting atop your pounding heart.

“Holy crap,” you breathed, sending him a shaky smile as you straightened, “you scared me.”

He flashed you a crooked grin, pulling his hand away from Patches. The moment he did, she leapt off the counter, scampering away down the hall. “Sorry. I just I finished streaming and wanted to come see what you were up to.” His eyes darted to the mitts on your hands then the counter behind you. “What are you baking?”

Your lips curled up into a small smile as you placed the bowl of frosting down next to you, quickly grabbing the tray of dough you had made earlier. “Gingerbread cookies!” You sent him a wink. “But with a twist.”

He took a step toward you, blinking down at the array of squares and circles littering the platter before his eyes caught on a particular shape. “Is that... my YouTube profile picture?”

Your eyes curved into tiny crescents. “Yeah! Aren’t they cute?”

He bobbed his head, his emerald gaze crinkling at the corners. “Very.”

You walked toward the oven, pulling it open with a gloved hand. “I have all the icing ready to go for after it’s done baking,” you said, careful not to burn yourself as you slid the tray inside, “and I even got some fondant for your eyes and smile.” You pouted as you pushed the door closed. “I was going to use black licorice, but I figured it might not taste as good.”

While you pressed a few buttons on the stovetop, Clay leaned against the counter, dipping a finger into the bowl of frosting before bringing it back to his lips. He eyed his finger curiously for a moment, then flicked his tongue out to lap up the white cream. He tilted his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he swallowed. “Mm, sweet. You sure put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?”

You walked over to him, leaning over to tap his nose with your clean finger. “It’s a special time of year. It’d just be sad if I didn’t put in at least a little extra effort.”

The smile he sent you was absolutely dazzling, and you could have sworn you felt your head spin at the sight. “Well,” he said, “you went the extra mile, so I think you’ve done more than enough.”

Pulling the oven mitts off, you hung them back on the cabinet, eyeing the bowls of frosting. “I still have to wait for them to bake,” you began, counting in your fingers, “decorate, then clean, but after all that, then I’ll be finished.”

Clay’s hand slid over the counter toward you. “Can I help?” His gaze averted from yours, something akin to embarrassment flickering within. “I-I’m not an artist or anything, bu—“

You put your hand on top of his. “Yes,” you said without missing a beat. “Absolutely. Of course, you can.” A wicked grin flashed across your face. “If you also help me clean.”

His expression mirrored your sly one. “Like I would let you do it alone, anyways.” He wrinkled his nose. “Just don’t send any pictures of the cookies I decorate to George or Sap, though.” He nearly shivered at the idea. “They’ll definitely clown me.”

You laughed at the thought of the inevitable string of mocking messages he would be sure to receive, a wave of affection surging through you. His stare was fond as he added, “How long do we have to wait?”

Your eyes glanced at the timer on the oven. “Like ten, fifteen minutes, tops. It won’t be that long.”

He pushed off from the counter, standing up straight. “What do you wanna do for fifteen minutes, then?”

You hummed, pursing your lips for a moment before your face lit up. “Cuddles?”

He blinked at you once, then chuckled. “Cuddling, it is, then.”

You let out a small victory cry, missing the way his eyes softened. You turned on your feet, gesturing to your backside. “Help me take off my apron?”

He padded up to you with a hum, his hands reaching over to grasp at the fabric securing the apron around your waist. His fingers were warm against the small of your back, and with a few tugs, the knot unraveled in an whirl. You easily slipped the apron off your shoulders and around your head, flashing Clay another grin as you placed it atop the counter. “Thank you.”

When he returned your thanks with a soft, “You’re welcome,” you turned on your heel for the living room. You had made it about five feet when a warm hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in place.

You paused, turning to look at Clay over your shoulder. “Clay?” you murmured.

He raised his eyebrows at you, his smile curling into a smirk as he pointed above the two of you. “Would you look at that.”

You glanced up, and you felt your throat tighten.

Of course. Mistletoe.

You had nearly forgotten he had hung it up the day before, mischief dancing across his face as you rolled your eyes at him. Shaking your head, you couldn’t stop the lovestruck smile from spreading across your face as you lowered your head, your gaze locking onto his. He was a dork, but he was your dork, and that was all that mattered.

In an instant, his arms were around your waist, pulling you toward him until your chests were flush against one another. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up to press your lips to his. He grinned into the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and you made a small noise that only made him smile harder. You ran a hand through his hair, digging your fingers into the base of his locks. He tasted sweet like sugar, and you could have sworn you could taste the frosting he had licked just a few minutes prior.

You parted with a gasp, his forehead leaning against yours as the two of your calmed your beating hearts, his hot breath fanning over your face. His lips were rosy and swollen, his hair disheveled this way and that. You were sure you looked just as messy, if not more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you simply smiled at him.

“Happy now, lover boy?” you quipped. When he nodded, looking like a lovesick puppy, you tugged at his arm with a laugh. “Alright, let’s go cuddle, now.”

You pulled him toward the living room with ease with a bounce in your step, lunging for the couch. With a small cry of victory, you tumbled into the couch cushions, Clay following right after you. The moment he sat down, you flipped over, snuggling into his side as he slung his arm around you.

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, your hearts beating in sync with one another as you simply basked in each other’s presences. You were practically drowning in his warm touch and the steadily growing scent of gingerbread.

Rolling over slightly, you traced a finger over the vein in his arm, murmuring softly, “This year’s been kind of wild, hasn’t it?”

You could practically feel him roll his eyes beside you as a chuckle flew from his lips. “Don’t even get me started. I could spend ages talking about how crazy everything’s been.”

You shifted in his arms, your eyes scanning his face. Something in your chest felt hazy as your gaze traced over the curve of his cheek and the slope of his nose.

“But not all of it has been bad, you know?” you murmured, reaching a hand up to his cheek. As your skin met his, he leaned into your touch, your thumb tracing over the myriad of freckles dusting his face. “You’ve done a lot of crazy cool stuff. Look at how much your channel’s grown—how much you’ve grown. You even won a Streamy award.”

His cheeks flushed, and he buried his face into your hand, his lips pressing against your palm as his voice came out slightly muffled. “You give me too much credit.”

You lowered your hand and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “You deserve all of it and more,” you whispered, just for him to hear. “You’re more amazing than you know. You made your dream come true.” Your gaze was sincere as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, feeling him shiver beneath you. “Little Clay would be so proud.”

As you pulled away from him, you took in the sight of his rosy cheeks and viridian eyes, his lips parted in awe as he simply stared at you. You felt your face grow hot underneath his gaze, and you lowered your eyes to your lap, clasping your hands together. Even just his stare made you so flustered—was it even possible to be so deeply affected by one person?

After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke. “How did I get so lucky?”

You lifted your chin, tilting your head at him as your eyebrows knit together. “Well, you did spend literal months studying the YouTube algorithm, and you’re still constantly working on videos,” you pointed out. “Plus, you stream, so I wouldn’t necessarily call all that just lu—“

He shook his head, smiling. “No, no.” He looked at you dead on, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “I mean, how did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “What?”

He reached over, slipping your hand into his as he intertwined your fingers together. “You’re not something I can study for,” he murmured into your ear, his voice wrapping around you like a cozy blanket, “or some plug-in that I can code.” Something warm and gooey melted in your stomach. “You’re just you, through and through, and by some miracle, you’re sitting here with me.”

Your face practically burst into flames, and you most definitely felt yourself starting to turn to putty. You wanted to hide your face in your hand, but he was holding it, so all you could manage was a shy whine. You barely managed to catch a glimpse of his cocky grin before you turned, burying your face in his neck.

“Clay,” you whispered, hoping he wouldn’t notice just how hard your heart was beating, “you are so embarrassing.”

You could hear his smile as he spoke, squeezing your hand. “You love me for it.”

You couldn’t stop a smile of your own from stretching across your face as you squeezed back. “Yeah, I do.”

Slowly, he untangled your hands and wrapped his arms around you, tugging you closer to his chest as you sank into him. You couldn’t think of a better way to spend the holidays, all cuddled and cozied up in Clay’s warm embrace with gingerbread cookies baking in the back. As you drank in his cologne and felt his heartbeat ringing in your ears like a familiar melody, you only had one thing on your mind.

You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

Just then, there was a deafening crash and the unmistakable clattering of bowls.

You froze in Clay’s arms, your eyes shooting wide open as his hold went slack around you.

There was a beat of silence, followed by a meow.

Your jaw dropped.

Oh my god.

You didn’t allow yourself any time to think before you scrambled off the couch, nearly tripling over your own feet as you raced toward the kitchen, Clay’s voice calling out after you.

“[Y/N]! What’s going on?”

For a few moments, there was only the sound of heavy panting. Then came a loud wail.

“Patches!”

It was far from a perfect holiday, to say the least, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[chosenimagines]

Enemies’ Date (Spencer Reid)

Fandom: [8] (E) Criminal Minds Teaser: Star is set up on a blind date. She doesn’t know who she will meet. No picture. No description. No name. But the surprise who she meets is big because Star is not meeting a stranger… Prompts:  (H) 42 How it is that I am always stuck with you? (H) 88 I want to kiss you and yell at you at the same time (T) 16 Somebody loooooves me AU: - Tropes: (12) Enemies to Lovers OC: Reader nicknamed Star Warnings: - Language: German/English Request: Yes/No by @reidsbookclub

Link for Request board & the request

A/N: My requesting rules will become stricter

▪️❤️▪️🧡▪️💛▪️💚▪️💙▪️💜▪️

____________________________________________

For the seventh time in the last fifteen minutes, I stroked over my pants and shirt sleeves to get them uncreased and smooth. It was an annoying habit of mine when I was nervous, which I sadly could not get rid of so far! A soft sigh stole over my lips as my gaze fell on the modern, golden wall clock next to a side door in the restaurant. 6:45 pm. I was too early! I had actually managed to arrive a quarter of an hour early. Yeah -I had to have this special talent... 

Hopefully the table was already available so I could sit there and have a drink while I waited. Maybe, if I was lucky, Morgan and Savannah were just as early as me and were already sitting in the dining room. I screwed up all my courage, straightened my shoulders and smoothed my top out one last time. Then I approached a desk as gracefully as possible, behind which an elderly gentleman in a black suit with a matching bow tie stood and bent over a leather-bound book with the golden inscription "Reservation". Funnily enough, the reservation book matched the clock on the wall! What a funny coincidence that brightened my mood. As soon as I reached the desk, the waitstaff raised his head. The man gave me a friendly smile. Promptly, an equally friendly smile appeared on my lips -only a touch more embarrassed. "I wish you a good evening, Sir!", I greeted the waiter. He nodded to me briefly. "Good evening, Miss! How can I help you?" I felt very comfortable in the presence of the receptionist. It was a mixture of his charisma, his facial expressions and a simple feeling in me! This could be a really nice evening, even though I had come here for a blind date. My smile changed. More real, warmer and also a bit wider! There now was plan A to C.

Plan A: I spent the whole evening with my date Plan B: I sat down with Morgan and his wonderful girlfriend who had to spend her evening here because of me (and also because of Morgan) Plan C: I became friends with the nice waiter who was as old as our Rossi

"I have a reservation! The name is Morgan." The gentleman flipped back a few pages and stroked the paper with his index finger as he searched for the reservation. My reservation was under the name of my colleague and friend as he had sent me on this blind date. Earlier, shortly before the end of our duty hours, Morgan had engaged me in a conversation and then persuaded me to go on a date, although I didn't know -Morgan hadn't wanted to tell me either- who I was going on a date with. Obviously, I had agreed, but I had made him promise that he would be around at least at the beginning of the date in case something went wrong. Yes, I was paranoid! That was an occupational disease. "Derek Morgan!", I quickly added as the receptionist searched too long. The man nodded visibly relieved. "Ah yeah! Derek Morgan. I beg your pardon. Today many Morgans have a reservation!", the chic, older gentleman explained to me. His cheeks were colored red. I felt sorry for his discomfort! But I couldn't assure him that this was not a problem, because the man talked before I could say a word. "Your table is already free!" he told me, wearing his smile again. Thank God! My wishes and prayers of the last fifteen minutes - I had already had the feeling on the bus ride to the restaurant that I would reach the restaurant too early - had been heard. "Would you like to take a seat at your table?" Stupid question! Hell yeah I want to. I want to sit at that table and pretend that I did not arrive here fifteen minutes before the appointed time. "I’d love to!", I summarized my thoughts in a socially acceptable way and followed the waiter to my table. Gentlemenlike, he pulled the chair in front of me back, where upon he offered me the place by a simple gesture. "Thank you very much!", I said again with a smile for the receptionist on my face and sat down while the chair was adjusted for me. "May I bring you something to drink?", the waiter offered me. What a remarkable service! "I'd like to have a glass of peach iced tea if it doesn't cause any trouble." At the same moment, the man had disappeared. A few tables away, I discovered two familiar faces. I briefly raised my hand to greet her, but I didn't know if I was seen. Savannah had also spotted me, waving inconspicuously at me before giving Morgan a sign. He turned to me and again I waved. Visibly confused, my colleague frowned. His left arm went up in the air before Derek took a look at his watch. A second later, his eyes were back on me. Vertically, Morgan held his arm in my direction and tapped on his watch. It was clear to see that he wanted to know from me why I was here so early. In response, I gave him a crooked smile and shrugged my shoulders in embarrassment. Morgan rolled his eyes, gave me courage with a simple thumbs up, where upon he turned back to Savannah. I was not alone for long, because the polite waiter came back. With an elegant hand movement, he placed a glass in front of me. "Thank you!" "If there is anything, just ask for Florian! He is your waiter for the evening," he informed me. I nodded. "Thank you, Mister..." Helplessly, I lowered my gaze. Had I missed a name tag? "Ella. Mr Gideon Ella!", Mr Ella introduced himself. I raised my head and looked at his suit. No name tag! Relieved, I exhaled. I hadn't missed anything! "Thank you, Mr. Ella.", I repeated. He nodded to me briefly and left me alone. My friendly smile, which I still wore on my lips from the short conversation with Gideon Ella, slipped out of my face the next second. That's almost what my glass did! It was obviously just as horrified by my date as I was, who was led to the table by Mister Ella. "Reid?!" "Y/L/N?!" I couldn't believe it! Morgan had sent me on a date with Spencer Reid. I felt sick! I couldn't stand Reid! Wasn't it punishment enough to have to work with him every day? No, because I also had to spend my precious free time with this man. Derek Morgan, you will pay for it! "How is it that I'm always stuck with you?", Reid growled annoyed and let himself drop on the chair on the opposite side of the table. He wasn't wrong! Strangely enough, Hotch always teamed us up together in every case, no matter how many times we complained about it. At least I protested and complained to Hotch about it because I didn't want to work so closely with someone every damn day who couldn't stand me from Day 1 for no reason. I had never done anything to Reid, but from the moment I started to work for the BAU, he already couldn't stand me! This was now mutual, because everything he could I could do better. To be fair, I had to admit that the hostility was exaggerated on both sides, but there was no way I would give in first. I had too much pride to pull myself out of something I hadn't even started! "If I knew that, Reid, I would do anything to avoid getting into these situations!", I hissed at him and took a sip of my iced tea. It was my way of stopping myself from throwing one half of my drink in the face of that arrogant agent in front of me and the other half over Morgan’s head and leave at the end. But I didn't want to make a big scene. So I probably had to go directly to Plan C, because obviously neither Plan A nor Plan B were in my interest. You might wonder why I didn't just get up and go home, but I had to promise Morgan high and holy—I even had to swear—that I would have to spend at least an hour with my date no matter what. I assumed that Reid also had to make such a promise and swore to do so because he was still sitting here. My vibrating phone attracted my attention. Normally I wouldn't take my phone out because it was rude and I considered it to be impolite and outrageous! But Reid sat across from me, which is why I took a look at my phone.

Pull yourself together, Star! Reid is not as bad as you always pretend and each of us know that you are secretly into each other. You don't have to tell it to me because I already know! But you and Reid should admit it to yourselves and each other. ~Morgan

Indignantly, I raised my head. I already wanted to jump up and confront my colleague about his message, but the table where he and Savannah had sat was empty! My eyes searched the restaurant as fast as human possible, only to finally have to witness them walking through the exit together. Panic rose in me. He couldn't leave! He couldn't just walk and leave me alone with Reid. Reid HATED me. The next time I got my hands on Derek Morgan, I would wring his neck for this! I could not say with certainty whether I could forgive him for this quickly. It was a unbelievably stupid move that he sent me on a blind date with a man who everyone knew couldn’t hate me more. After all, Reid made no secret out of his hates for me! After a moan, my thumbs flew over the smartphone keyboard.

I don't believe a single word you just said! You and I both know that your friend hates me. ~Star

As soon as I had pressed Send, our waiter Mister Ella came back to write our orders down and give them to the chef. I gave the man a radiant smile as I told him my order. After all, he hadn’t anything to do with my misery! Reid also shared with Mr. Ella what he would like to eat. I turned my gaze away from my hated colleague. Allegedly hated colleague... If I was honest, Morgan was at least right with the feelings I got! I had feelings for Spencer Reid and for that I hated myself. Who was in love with someone who hated you? The answer: Me. "Did you know that iced tea was invented by the development of cooling technology that progressed in the 18th century and popularized in the 20th century?" I looked at Reid surprised. Infront of him I could spot a glass filled with iced tea as well. If I had to guess, I would say it was the same flavor as mine.But much more important was the fact that Reid voluntarily started a conversation with me! I raised my right eyebrow when I looked at him. "Are you aware of the fact that you are talking to me? I feel the need to remind you that you can't stand me.", I reminded Reid, leaning back with my arms crossed. In the last few years, I had managed to hide my true feelings for Reid, but Morgan's message made me feel like my shield was permeable. "I'm aware of that and fully oriented!", Reid snapped. He also crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I know I'm talking to you, Star." Defensively, I raised my hands. "I just wanted to make sure," I replied.

The hours passed and the dinner extended over this time. Although I would have never believe if I would tell myself about this, I had to say that the evening went without any typical Star-Reid incidents. This was really unusual, considering us constantly fighting at work over literally everything! Secretly, I had to admit that I was enjoying every minute of our never-ending conversation. It was nice to see that Reid and I could even have normal conversations over a longer period of time! But when Mister Ella gave us our bill, disappointment overcame me. I could have sat here with him forever! The next moment, I noticed Reid taking the bill and taking out his wallet. Frowning, I intervened. "What do you think you're doing?" I wanted to know. "I pay the bill." "Absolutely not! I'll pay my half," I told him decisively. Which caused a pretty monosyllabic discussion! "No!" "Yes!" "No!" "Yes!" "No!" "Yes!" "I'll be back as soon as you have agreed.", our waiter interjected, getting some distance between us and himself as soon as possible. "Why can't you let me pay the bill?! This is one of those moments again!" I snorted and rolled my eyes. Typical Reid! "What kind of moments?!", I demanded to know. "Those moments in which I want to kiss and yell at you at the same time!", it burst out of Reid. Frightened, he looked at me and slapped his hands on his mouth. Had I understood him correctly? "You want to kiss me?", I coughed. Reid's cheeks glowed red. "Possible...", he said. " That is not a possible answer! Yes or no?!" I knew I was pressuring him, but I just had to know now. "Yes." There it was! The answer I had hoped for. Without my intervention,  an overjoyed grin appeared on my lips. "Don't laugh at me!" Now I actually had to giggle. "I'm not laughing at you! I'm happy about your answer, because I don't feel so stupid anymore for falling in love with you." Reid seemed overwhelmed with the whole situation, as he could not form complete sentences. "You have- you are- I-", he stuttered. So that Spencer could let everything sink in, I pressed my glass into his hand to get him to drink something. He understood my hint. "You reciprocate my feelings.”, Reid noted with surprise. My heart skipped a beat. Spencer Reid had fallen in love with me! But I didn't comment on that. "Do we want to pay and leave?", I suggested instead. Reid nodded. We shared the bill and strolled towards the exit. Reid kindly held the door open for me, but I couldn't help but tease him one last time at the end of the evening. "Somebody loooooves me!"

▪️❤️▪️🧡▪️💛▪️💚▪️💙▪️💜▪️

____________________________________________

Taglists

Always @the-second-tonks

Criminal Minds: @coldlilheart @reidsbookclub​

[jonnnysuh]

Never Not - Park Jinyoung

Pairing: idol!Jinyoung x gender neutral reader

Summary: Your bad day is turned around when your childhood best friend, Jinyoung, returns to your hometown and takes you on a tour of your favourite memories together.

Genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: suggested sexual experience

Word Count: 4.3k

Requested by: Anon

A/N: Hi guysssss. I took a small break from tumblr bc I got super busy with work. I haven’t written something like this in a while, but I actually loved how it turned out. I recommend listening to Never Not by Lauv to get into the mood <33

Effort was hard to make these days. Even the way you walked had an unmistakable slouch. Your exhaustive strides were just a shallow reminder that there used to be a hop in your step. Five more minutes and you were free from the shackles of work. Free to figure out what to make for dinner, and appease the gurgles of your stomach.The seconds on the point of sale system didn't seem to move fast enough as you folded the customer's final item and shoved it into a bag.

When you were a kid, no one told you how exhausting being an adult was, and thus it became something to look forward to. You were so caught up on getting that first kiss, sneaking out to go to parties, seeing people that your parents didn't approve of, that you didn't realize that life didn't slow down from there. It was like you blinked, and you were no longer 16. Instead, you were twenty-something perpetually feeling like life was just an endless pit of "what ifs" and building up the courage to make something of yourself. Another mindless "Have a good day." escaped your lips as you bid a customer bye for the nth time that day. You wondered how many of your years would waste away telling others to have a good day, when you yourself hadn't had one in a while.

You pressed your fingers against your temple to sooth a small growing headache. Working in retail for as long as you had, you knew that the s-curved line of people didn't stop for your discomfort. With a fake smile on your face, you welcomed the next few customers as your eyes wandered around the store looking for the person who was going to take over for the next hour. Fifteen minutes past the hour, your replacement finally came. Externally, you wanted to scream and ask them what took you so long? but you knew that would only make you as good as the worst customer. Graciously, you nodded at them, before walking away to the back room to fetch your things and head out.

...

You stood against the wall at the bus shelter shivering from the cool summer breeze that was disguising just how rapidly autumn was truly coming. Today probably wasn't the best day to forget your coat.  You rubbed your arms for warmth, taking micro footsteps in place.  The pain in your feet made you romanticize the comfort of the sturdy old bus seats as a place of rest. You felt your phone in your pocket vibrate, but you let it ring out. You were determined to get a seat on this bus. A deep sigh escaped you as you surveyed the density of the crowd on the platform- the ride home was definitely going to be longer than usual. When the bus arrived, you queued behind a long line of people. Your phone rang a second time, at this point the crowd was getting larger and you knew you weren't going to get a seat on this bus.

PRIVATE CALLER 

"Hello?" you pressed your phone to your ear. Sometimes your mother used phone booths to reach you, so you expected her voice to be on the other end of the line. "I'm offended I had to call you twice for you to pick up."  The voice was much deeper, and the delivery much more lighthearted than anything that would've came out of your mother.  The absence of a greeting was distinct and direct, but no matter, you knew exactly who this was.

You felt the tenseness of your shoulders drop with just the sound of this voice. "If I had definitely known it was you, I wouldn't have picked up, Mr. Private caller." you jest with the phone  pressed between your ear and the crook of your shoulder.

"You know, I was gonna suggest that I pick you up, but just for that comment, I change my mind."

You poke your tongue at your cheek, coyly. For all the changes that occurred in your life, for some reason you could depend on Jinyoung's quick wit and humour to hit the spot even after all this time.

"That's fine, I just finished work so I was thinking of just going home anyways."  You had no idea he was even back in South Korea. Last you heard, he was on tour somewhere in North America. More than that, you couldn't even remember when the last time you actually talked was. You were curious about what he was up to these days, but you you knew any hint of urgency in your voice would lead to incessant teasing on his part. The line progressed slightly, but you still didn't feel any closer to the entrance of the bus.

  "I'm about to get on a bus home." 

"Well, don't get on." 

"If I don't get on then you're gonna have to repay me for the fare I paid to even get here." You eyed the bus reaching its capacity, and stepped aside. You twisted your fingers in hope that he was being 100% serious, otherwise you were going to have to wait out for the 6:30pm bus.

"I can't believe the cost of your attention is only $2. Do better." the voice quipped. 

"Okay, Jinyoung I guess I'll just get on, then." you threatened, although you had no intention of boarding the departing bus.

"Fine, fine. I'll pay for your fare. Just wait for me."

...

The sky had darkened tenfold since you hung up from Jinyoung's impromptu call. The streetlights glowed gold against the lavender backdrop of the sky. You sat on the bus shelter bench, swinging your feet back and forth as you waited for him. If he took even a minute longer, you vowed to somehow become the president of the Park Jinyoung hate club. Of course, you wouldn't actually, but the idea became more appealing the longer you waited. 

You weren't one to go on spontaneous outings- at least not since your teenage years. Recently, you followed the strict routine of work, home, sleep, and to stray from it seemed pointless. But the fact that he even thought of you when he came back home to South Korea was still not something you could wrap your head around.

In the distance, a glow of headlights appeared, stopping perfectly adjacent to your bus stop. The window rolled down, and there appeared Jinyoung's face in all its glory. To say all the words in your vocabulary disappeared would be an understatement. A part of you doubted he would even follow through. Without missing a beat, he returned a look to you. "You just gonna stare at me, or are you gonna get in the car?"

...

Your backpack was sitting atop your lap, bouncing with the movement of the car. Jinyoung hung one hand over the steering wheel. The orange and purple of the sky twisting, and creating a brand new colour that only seemed to grace the skies at this hour. The music was unidentifiable, but the volume was low enough that you didn't even bother trying to figure it out.

"So what'd you do today?" he asked. 

"I worked, I told you that." you replied, matter-of-factly.

"And how was it?"

"I honestly can't tell the difference between this week and last week. Or even last month. Same old, same old. Annoying customers, stale lunch, forgot my jacket at home even though it's 15 fucking degrees outside." 

"Do you still work at that clothing store you started at when we were 20?"

  Your eyes shifted, following the ever-changing scenery of the highway. No idea where he was bringing you, and yet you were brought to comfort by Jinyoung's habits.  You knew he didn't have a drug deal, or a random party planned.  Jinyoung was always the type to be home before midnight. He was a self-proclaimed goody-two-shoes, but you weren't completely fooled. You knew he could bend the rules if it seemed to serve him.

  "That exact same one."

 "Anything else?"

  You looked at him, the shock settling in that he was really right next to you-- no longer just a figure on a billboard that you used to know. The changes of his physicality were subtle; his face was more defined, but his cheeks still carried the baby fat that had been there since childhood. The shadow of his facial hair loomed on his smooth skin. The mole on the top of his lip, not necessarily gone, but faded. He looked older, but the aura of his presence remained the same.

"And then I was dumb enough to get into a car with a stranger because he said he'd give me $2."

Jinyoung side eyed you, causing you to erupt in laughter. His glare was also unchanging. "Stranger? Your memory's fading already?" He shook his head disappointedly. "I thought you still had a few good years left."

  "Oh yeahhhhhh. Sorry Jinyoungie. Didn't recognize you with all the fame." you pinched and pulled on his ear- both things a relic of your grade school years. When you were kids, you never let him forget the age gap. Granted, it was only 3 days, but that gave you the freedom to refer to him however you pleased, while he was stuck with the honorifics.

As you let go, the curve of his ear flushed red. "OWW.” he cried, swatting your hand away. “You’re lucky I’m driving otherwise I would pull your hair.”

Being raised with Jinyoung meant that you were inseparable but kind of in the worst way. If Jinyoung got  a good mark on a test, his parents would immediately flaunt it to yours. If you wanted to sneak out, he was on your tail telling you to go back home. And if he knew you liked someone, then that person would know soon enough by the words of Jinyoung. All of that warranted ear pulling, and if you did something in retaliation he would pull your hair.

He was one of the few people in your life, who encapsulated a certain time of your life.  The time in your life when you were young, and the world felt so big and everything was possible.

  The car rocked back and forth as it shifted into the elevated ramp of a parking lot. Your eyes widened as you realized where you were.  He lingered in his seat before popping his seatbelt off and exiting the car. You followed him, swinging the passenger door open.

  "So you randomly called me because you wanted to hang out at the...convenience store?" you gestured to the old, orangey building. The bricks were chipped, and the fluorescent lights illuminated the outside through the big glass window.  You remember the days when you and Jinyoung would sit on the parking blocks and split a bag of chips until you were chased off the property by the owner. He pulled on the store door, pressing his back to it and letting you enter first. 

"Well, I wasn't going to come here until you started yanking my ears. That's when I knew you were hungry."

Without stopping, you weaved through the store until you reached aisle 3- the snack aisle had become a home to you and Jinyoung when you were growing up. In grade school, you were both fearful of what was beyond the boundaries of your home and school so you indulged in after school snacks at the convenience to talk about the latest happenings in your life. As you aged, it became the place of solace after exams, or the meetup location for last minute plans.

  He picked up a package of gummy worms, and shook them in your face. "Do you remember what happened the last time we ate theseeee?" Jinyoung smirked. For a moment, you were taken aback by how much he had grown. In your teens, you and Jinyoung met eye to eye. Now, you felt like you had to look up at him in order to be taken seriously.

  You crossed your arms, "Yeah, we ate them in the parking lot and you made me confess who I had a crush on." 

"Chan, right?" 

You nodded, with a sulk as you reminisced. "That wasn't fair."

 "Why? Do you still have a crush on him?" 

"I haven't thought about him in so long. You really think I'd have a lingering crush on a guy I haven't seen in years?"

Jinyoung shrugged, and shifted his feet. "You had a huge crush on him, though. You even stared at him like this." He rested his palm to his cheek, letting out a deep sigh while trying to maintain an enamoured expression. You snorted, hitting him on the chest. "You'd write his name all over your notebooks AND you bullied me into giving you one of my new ones." he added.

You let out a belly laugh. "And then I wrote his name all over that one too."

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "They were premium quality notebooks. My aunt sent me them from the states!"

 "You had a kabillion of them. Besides, you pestered me for-like-ever to know who I liked, but you never even told me who you had a crush on." You grabbed the bag of gummy worms from his hand and placed it in your shopping basket. Your attention shifted, as you realized you should be in search of your favourite chocolates. You knew that you were far too old to be eating junk food for dinner, but there was something familiar about being hyped up on food that you knew would rot your insides. Your eyes landed on the top row of the wall, and before you could grab your favourite chocolates, Jinyoung stripped it from the wall and dropped it into the basket. He piled on a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and then you both ventured to the drink refrigerators.

  Both of you stared deeply at your drink options. On each level of the fridge, stood several different colourful drinks. If you knew Jinyoung, then you knew he would pick a Coke- it was something he swore by in your younger years. You hummed, mentally deciding between an iced tea or a vitamin water.  You weren't sure why it bothered you when Jinyoung picked up a Sprite, but you tried to hide your dismay. With an ice tea in hand, and a basket full of both of your favourite things, you made your way to the cashier.

  At the last moment, Jinyoung placed a bright yellow umbrella on the checkout counter. He looked down at you, surely, “You never know when it’s gonna rain.”

...

The following car ride to your next destination only lasted about 3 minutes before he parked on the side of the road and dragged you down the street, with the plastic bag full of your foods in hand. 

"I should've known you were going to bring me here." you said, strolling down the familiar gravel pathway towards your elementary school. All colour in the sky had disappeared now, finding it hard to see anything but the outline of each other and some features.

  Both of you settled on the grass field, onlooking the tall school building that was the foundation of your formal years. As soon as you opened the bag of chips, you found yourselves deep in conversation, talking about what life had been for him the last few years. You couldn't help but be in awe when he explained the rush he got when he got on stage, and how he got anxiety when he thought he wasn’t doing his best.  The candidacy of his thoughts drew you in and you were surprised that he trusted you with his secrets. 

All these years, you had always wondered what he was up to, if he was living a life far better than the one he left at home.  To everyone else, he was this huge pop star that had travelled the world 3 times over, but to you, he was your best friend who left home at 16. You had seen him through the bad hair phases, the adolescent temper tantrums, the voice cracks, and the questionable fashion choices both your parents had put you in.

  He leaned back on his arms as he gazed at the school. "Are you afraid of change?" You were silent for a moment as you thought. "On a scale of 1-10?" you rocked your head back and forth. "It's a 15."

Jinyoung raised his eyebrows. You held your legs to your chest, and looked at him. "Why?"

He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it and looked smugly in the other direction. "Heyyy." you poked him repeatedly. "You can't just ask me that and not tell me why."

He enclosed his hand around your finger, forcing your poking to come to a halt. It felt like he was studying your face. Never in your life had you ever felt like you were under the scope of Jinyoung's gaze. The darkness of the sky acted as a mask, hiding your blushing face.

"It was the last thing I asked you before I left." he admitted. "I asked you that when things were about to change big time for us… I always wondered if you resented me for leaving you behind."

  The last day before Jinyoung left to become a full-time trainee, you two snuck on to this very same field. Both of you ran across the grass, picking up dandelions; believing that if you gathered enough and blew on them, that they would fuel your wishes.

  “You thought I could resent you?” He nodded. “Well, for starters, I hate your guts.” You replied sarcastically, causing him to look at the ground with embarrassment and your face softened at the sight of it.

  “You know what I wished for on all of those dandelions, Jinyoung?”

 “Not to fail the math exam.” Even in a soft moment, he couldn’t help but be sly. “No!” You exclaimed. 

“Well, you should’ve. You got a 48.” He sensed your killer look on him. “So what’d you wish for?”

You played with your fingers. You thought you’d take this secret to the grave. “I wished that you’d be successful in whatever you chose to do.” His eyes enlarged, alarmed at your confession. “but maybe I should’ve wished for the math thing.”

  Jinyoung giggled, inching closer to you so your legs were pressed against each other. 

“What did you wish for?” You asked. He smiled with the side of his mouth, shaking his head. 

“I wished that I’d always find my way back home.” “Oh goddd.” You gagged. “you’re so corny.”

 “What about you, huh? You used your wish on me!” he bellowed, his voice echoing against the school playground. 

“Hey, I might just be the reason why you’re famous.” You fought back.

You flipped your phone over, 7:53, the brightness of it only barely illuminating the dark. You thought about what you would be doing at this moment if you weren’t here, if he hadn’t picked you up.  Mmm probably falling asleep to a tv show. Probably dreading tomorrow. Probably not as happy.

"But what did I say? You know… the first time you asked me that question?” You couldn’t even begin to imagine how 16-year-old you answered.

  "You said you were excited to see who we were going to become.” The words of your younger self were so hopeful, yet your current self felt hopeless. Your expression sank, and Jinyoung offered a small smile to revive it. He felt guilty having asked you the question in the first place.

You sat in silence for a bit, dwelling on the excitement for life that you once had. Where was it? And how could you get it back?

“I feel like I’ve let myself down. I don’t even know who I am now.”

Jinyoung blinked slowly, watching his childhood best friend crumble. He rested a hand on your shoulder.  "I just look at you, and in so many ways you're the same. I still know what makes you laugh, and the way you say things. I can still pick out your favourite snacks, and know you’re gonna pull my ears when I do something to piss you off.” he yanked on yours softly. "Everything about you feels just how I left you. I feel my youth when I'm with you. But at the same time I’m comforted by how much you’ve changed.”

“I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” You shook your head no. “Do you remember how scared you were to even leave the house when we were kids? Now you live on your own. You never took anything seriously back then, but you’re now one of the hardest working people I know…” his voice softened. “And you let yourself be vulnerable with me when it used to take hours to drag it out of you.” You laid on his shoulder, and he rested his head on top of yours, snuggling closer. “You fear change, yet you’re changing right before your own eyes. And maybe one day, I’ll come back here, and I won’t even be able to recognize who you’ve become.” You sniffled, the idea of Jinyoung not remembering you broke your heart. You held your chest. “But if that day does come, it’ll be okay. Because I know that the person that you’ve become will have it all figured out.  I’ll always be rooting for every single version of yourself even if it doesn’t include me.” You sobbed quietly, interlocking your fingers with his. He held your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. For once, there was an action not done out of habit or relic. It was an action evoked just for this moment, and it was a change that you didn’t mind.

…

Jinyoung held your hand, leading you down a narrow road a few minutes away. The sound of crickets, barking dogs, and distant vehicles could be heard as you stood in the middle of the road of your childhood neighbourhood.

  You hadn’t been here since you moved in 2016. You looked up at the large modern house that sat on what used to be two lots. Yours and Jinyoung’s childhood homes were purchased by a wealthy business man and demolished to build the business man’s dream home. You stared at the foreign house that sat on the place of your childhood dreams and frustrations.

  Jinyoung placed his hands on your shoulders and stopped you at the exact halfway point between what was once his house and your house. You rubbed your arms as a gust of wind rushed by. Without thinking, Jinyoung slipped off his hoodie and placed it on top of your shoulders.

“I remember racing you down this street.” You piped up, pointing down the end of the road. Jinyoung always won that race. No one was faster than him on this street.

“I remember finding that stray puppy and fighting over who got to keep it.” He responded.

“It should’ve been me.” You bickered. Jinyoung laughed, amused at how you were always one to hold a grudge.

“Do you remember that day when it started raining soooo hard and we had to walk shoulder to shoulder under my umbrella?”

You nodded. “Ya, that was the same day with the gummy worms, you dummy.”

“So do you remember what happened right here?” He pointed at the exact spot you were standing. You racked your head for a memory, but nothing stood out to you clearly. You shook your head no. “We always said bye to one another here...but…?” you trailed off.

He took a step forward, both of you standing directly under the streetlight now. You watched his face light up as he likely played the moment back in his head. “So that day, standing under my umbrella, we were about to go our separate ways. You turned into me.”

He took another step closer, popping open the bright yellow convenience store umbrella and holding it over your heads.

You could see it now. It was drizzling so hard, even your hair wasn’t protected from getting soaked.   You wrapped your hands around the handle, just like how you did back then. Chest to chest, huddled under the umbrella. Jinyoung locked eyes with you, your heart beat faster.

“And you looked at me, and I swear I was going to say everything I wanted to tell you right then and there.” Your mouth opened in shock. “This was the place where I almost told you I loved you.”

You studied the eyes of the boy you watched grow up. He looked scared, but sure. There was no doubt in your mind that Jinyoung meant what he said. He lowered the umbrella, not letting his gaze veer from you.

  Your life was just a build up of what if’s and trying to gain the courage to make something of yourself… but you didn’t want that anymore. With your heart beating out of control, you leaned into him, taking the risk and kissing his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the heat of the kiss.

A round of thunder boomed above you, and little by little, raindrops began to pour from the sky.

You and Jinyoung separated to look up at the sky. “I did say, you never know when it’s gonna rain.”

You both ran for the car, shoulder to shoulder, under the umbrella. From your heads to your toes, you were soaked in the rain, but neither of you cared. You silently thanked the world for every bad thing that happened to you today that led to this.

…

You blinked your eyes awake, surveying the damp clothes strewn across your living room floor, and the heat of the bare body laying next to you on the couch. You stared at your sleepy childhood best friend, a smile spreading across your lips. This was a change you were ready for. 

[wonder-womans-ex]

‘Cause Boy I was Made for You

By wonder-womans-ex for @inloveoknutzy Sweater Weather secret santa exchange 2020

When Remus Lupin was eleven years old, he learned about soulmates. 

“Almost everyone gets a soulmark on their nineteenth birthday,” Mr. Holliday, his fifth-grade teacher, had explained. “A design, like a tattoo, on their left wrist. And out there, somewhere, someone will have a matching one.

“Some people don’t get them until later—no one knows why. Some don’t get them at all. It’s rare, but some people have more than one soulmate, or their soulmate changes. 

“Can anyone tell me why this might be?”

Trust a teacher to turn this into a lesson, Remus thought, and put up his hand. 

“Because people change, and the person who your soul matches could change, too?” 

“Very good, Mr. Lupin.” 

***

When Sirius Black was eleven years old, his parents kept him home from school. Instead, they sat him down at the dining room table—which was only ever used for special occasions; he couldn’t fathom why this might be considered one—and told him three things. 

“One,” Walburga said, bony fingers and long nails that reminded Sirius of talons drumming on the centuries-old wood, “your career comes first. Always. No matter who your soulmate turns out to be or how you feel about it, you are expected to make the choice that benefits yourself and your role in this family.” 

“Two,” Orion put in, “you are the only person who can prove who your soulmate is. If the reality is something that puts your future or your reputation at risk, lying is the best option. Remember, listen to your head, not your wrist.”

“Three—” this was Walburga again, “—your soulmark, when you get it, will remain covered at all times. No one else is permitted to see it. Are we clear?”

Sirius nodded. 

“Speak up!”

“Yes, Mother. Yes, Father.”

***

When Remus Lupin was thirteen years old, he had his first kiss. It was with a girl from his first aid course to whom he’d never really talked before, and it was wet and clumsy and didn’t taste very nice. In six years when he got his soulmark, he probably wouldn’t even remember her name. 

***

When Sirius Black was thirteen years old, he fell asleep in math class twice. He’d spent the entire night practicing—under his father’s instructions, of course—and the words in the textbook began to swim in front of his eyes. 

His mother slapped him across the cheek when she found out. Though he told no one for a very long time, that was when he started drinking coffee. 

***

When Remus Lupin was fifteen years old, he googled what if your soulmate doesn’t love you. 

***

When Sirius Black was fifteen years old, he found out what it was like to be famous. He enjoyed it, at first. There was so much to enjoy: the attention from his parents, the people who recognized him in public and smiled, and the hockey. 

The hockey was everything. 

He wouldn’t have thought so, but it was freeing, really, to be on the ice, doing what he loved, and know that the whole world was watching. It showed him he was enough—better than enough. He was the best. He’d been working towards being best his whole life, and now he finally got to feel good about it. What wasn’t to like about that?

Amycus Carrow, apparently. The first guy on his team to notice he was different. “Queer,” he whispered, as Sirius packed his gear up. 

Sirius wasn’t sure who he was trying to prove something to by sleeping with Janie Clearwater—Amycus or himself. 

***

When Remus Lupin was seventeen years old, he and his mom picked his little brother Julian up from daycare. Jules had a crude drawing of a star on his wrist in green washable marker. 

“My teacher has one! So I wanted one too!” 

Remus smiled, ruffling Julian’s hair. 

That night, he locked his bedroom door and looked up Sirius Black. Video after video of slapshots, passes, interviews, until he finally drifted off to sleep thinking that’s the sort of person I want to be loved by. 

***

When Sirius Black was seventeen years old, he had his first panic attack. He wasn’t sure what triggered it; he wasn’t sure how he pulled himself out, but he ran a thumb over the red marks where his fingernails had dug into his skin and tried not to cry.

***

When Remus Lupin was nineteen years old, everything went wrong. He woke up on his birthday to his wrist itching, and it took all his willpower not to look at it. He wasn’t quite ready yet. 

It was like Schrödinger’s cat, he reasoned—if he didn’t look, he couldn’t confirm what had been nagging at the back of his head for a while now. He couldn’t deny it, either, but it was better than nothing. 

Julian ran to hug him when he got downstairs, grinning to show off his gap-toothed smile. “I got you a present! Wanna know what it is?”

“I think,” Remus told him, “I’m about to find out anyway.”

Two weeks later, Fenrir Greyback approached him in the locker room. 

***

When Sirius Black was nineteen years old, he found himself signed to an NHL team he wasn’t supposed to be on and with a soulmark he could make neither head nor tail of: a silver wolf and black dog, intertwined like yin and yang, two crossed hockey sticks behind them. He remembered, distantly, being told that soulmarks were meant to make sense. 

The black dog was probably meant to represent him—black dog, dog black (he still hadn’t forgiven his parents for that one)—and the hockey sticks almost definitely had something to do with, well, hockey, but the wolf he had no idea about.  

***

It is now that these two stories meet. There is a split second, a fraction of time, and it seems as though the whole world is holding its breath. Will their paths cross, only to continue on their separate ways? Will they travel together for a time, before they are destined to part once more?

“Hello,” says Remus, and when Sirius holds his hand out coldly, their fate is decided. 

***

“Pots, c’mere a second!” 

Sirius is happy, almost. He’s got the team—he’s one of them, now, really and truly, but there’s something still off. He knows what it is, but he doesn’t want to. 

“I’m coming, Captain! Keep your head on!”

James comes to a stop in front of him. “Hi. What do you need?”

“Please poke Dumo.” A few of the guys chuckle, and this makes Sirius smile. He likes making other people laugh. 

“What, and you needed me for that? You couldn't do it yourself?”

Finn walks into the room, then, jersey half on. “Why do it at all? What did poor old Dumo do to you, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Pascal says from where he’s sitting by his locker. “Respect your elders!”

“Elder, you say? Edging on retirement, are you?”

“Tais-toi!” 

Glancing over to Remus, Sirius allows the barest flicker of a smile to pass over his face. He gets one in return. 

“Alright, everyone get moving,” Coach tells them, opening the door and surveying where they’re all arranged, faces like guilty puppies. “You’re paid to play hockey, not sit on your asses and gossip. Practice starts in five minutes, or you run laps around the outside of the rink. In skates.”

Most of them groan, and Kasey downs a Powerade. “Well, boys, that’s my cue.”

James is the next to go, then Finn, then Logan. Leo and Talker continue their argument—something about George Harrison; Sirius isn’t really listening—out onto the ice, and Adam follows them with Olli and Nado close behind. Dumo winks at Sirius before he goes, too, and then it’s just the two of them. 

“What did he do?” Remus asks, after Sirius has laced and relaced his left skate three times. “Dumo, I mean.” 

“Nothing much. Just… well, if you must know, he put shaving cream in the fridge, once. Guess what I had on my waffles that morning.” 

“Waffles aren’t on your diet plan.”

“It was last year.”

“And you waited until now to get James to poke him?”

He knows Remus can see right through him. He always can. “Never question the methods of a hockey player, Loops.”

He meant it as a joke, but Remus stiffens for some reason, jaw clenching and eyes darting away. There’s an awkward pause before Sirius says, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.” 

“Right.” He clears his throat, trying in vain to find something else to say. He would be lying if he said Remus didn’t mean something to him—he knows it. But, after all, knowing something and acknowledging it are two very different things. 

Sirius runs the laps. 

***

That night, after practice, Remus is about to head for the bus station when Sirius steps in front of him. He’s walking backwards, even with his hockey bag slung over his shoulder, and Remus isn’t ashamed to say he’s a little impressed. (From a purely objective point of view, of course. It has nothing to do with Sirius and everything to do with the skill it would take, hypothetically, to do such a thing.) (He’s not fooling anyone, least of all himself.) 

“Want a lift?”

“You don’t even know where I live.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fix that.”

Remus rolls his eyes; he pretends to think about it. “All right,” he says, finally. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“I get to choose the music.”

Sirius lets out one loud ‘ha!’  It’s the most beautiful thing Remus has heard in a long time. (That would go well: “Oh, I’ve changed my mind. No need to put on the radio, I’ll be content if you just keep laughing.”) (There’s a reason people like him are off to the side, out of sight, instead of right in the spotlight with a microphone.)  

Remus is glad that Sirius waits until he’s parked outside Remus’s apartment building to bring up their earlier conversation. It says something that they say “So, about this evening—” in unison, but Remus isn’t going to think about that. 

“You go first,” Sirius tells him, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “Please.”

“I suppose,” Remus says, slowly, “That I haven’t quite been honest with you. Any of you. I wasn’t always a PT.”

“Of course not. You’re my age. You can’t have always worked for the Lions—before that you were a teenager. A student.”

Remus shakes his head. “No. Before that I was a player.” 

“You played? Why’d you stop?”

“Bad hit,” he says, shrugging. “I’m over it. But I… I know what it’s like. The pressure. The rules. So, if you need someone to talk to… just remember—I know what the game does to a guy. You’re not the only one who’s been told to be something you aren’t by someone who forgets you’re a person off the ice, too.

“See you tomorrow, Cap. Thanks for the ride.” 

***

Sirius is probably the one person in history who has managed to burn eggs without even turning the stove on. 

“How on earth did that happen?” James asks when Sirius phones him. 

“I dropped them into the toaster—hey! Stop laughing! It could happen to anyone!”

“Yes,” he hears from the other end of the line, “But it didn’t. It happened to you.”

It takes exactly two minutes and thirty-seven seconds after hanging up on James for Sirius to decide to call Remus. Cooking failures might not have been quite what Remus meant when he said Sirius could talk to him, but it’s the problem at hand right now. 

(Remus laughs just as hard as James, but at least he has the decency to apologize for it afterwards.) 

“Well,” he says, once he’s calmed down, “What are you going to eat now?” 

“I’m not sure. Cereal?”

“Practice is in two and a half hours. You need more than that.”

“I’ll be—”

“If you end that sentence with ‘fine,’ I’ll take the laces out of your skates and strangle you with them. Do you want me to walk you through, I dunno, a pancake?” 

“Sure. What do I need?”

“Flour, butter, eggs, milk…”

Twenty minutes later Sirius is left with milk on his shirt, flour in his hair, butter practically everywhere else, and a microwave that won’t start. 

“I think,” he tells Remus, “I should have cereal.”

“You are going to eat a pancake if it’s the last thing I do—”

“Why don’t you just come over here and make it for me, then? I’m sure you’ll have more success.” 

He holds his breath for a moment, hoping this wasn’t a step too far, before Remus responds. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be over in… half an hour?” 

“Sounds good.” 

Click. 

The instant the call is over, Sirius opens the freezer and grabs one of the popsicles he secretly has stashed there. They’re not part of his diet plan, but he needs one. Then he takes a sponge and starts trying to get the butter out of the sole of his shoe. 

***

The first thought that crosses Remus’s mind is that Sirius’s tongue is purple from one of the popsicles he thinks no one knows about. If Remus kissed him, he’d probably taste like grapes. (The thought is banished from his mind the moment it enters.) 

“So,” he says, surveying the damage. “I am going to teach you how to make a pancake.” 

Sirius, it turns out, is infinitely better at following instructions when they’re simple, and the two of them work out a system quickly. Remus makes the pancake, Sirius gets the ingredients. It works. 

“That’s salt, not sugar. Try again.”

(Most of the time, at least.)

 “Really?” Sirius is squinting at the package. “Why doesn’t it say so?”

“It does. Right there.” 

“How am I supposed to read that?”

“You need glasses, Cap.” 

“I have glasses. I just never wear them.” 

“What?” This is news to Remus. Visions of Sirius with glasses and bed hair are swimming in front of his eyes. “Why?” 

A shrug. “I look stupid.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’d be drop-dead gorgeous in anything.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Remus realizes that, yes, he said that out loud. “I mean, all those fangirls certainly seem to think so.” 

“Right. Yeah.” Sirius clears his throat. 

“Anyway, pancakes! I think these are almost ready to cook—can you turn on the element?”

“The what now?” 

“The element? The coil on the stove?” 

“Should’ve just said that in the first place,” Sirius grumbles. “Fucking Americans.” 

“Fucking French.” 

Suddenly, Remus has a spatula pointed at his nose. He has to cross his eyes to see it properly. “Say that again; I dare you.”

“Fucking French?”

“Awright, that’s it! En garde, bitch!” 

And so begins the great whisk-vs-spatula duel of 2020. There is very little batter left once they’re done—in the bowl, at least. Most of it is on their clothes. 

They look at each other. “Cereal?” 

“...Cereal.” 

***

Kasey’s eyes go wide—almost comically so—when they show up to practice together. 

“Cap giving rides?” He says, and Sirius isn’t sure what accent he’s trying to fake but he ends up sounding like a scandalized duchess from the movie adaptation of an Austen knockoff. (Maybe that is what he was going for. It’s hard to know, with Kasey.) “I thought the day would never come.”

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.”

Remus’s elbow digs into Sirius’s rib cage. “You don’t want to say that. He tried to make me shut up this morning—it’s something I’ll never recover from.” 

Sirius almost laughs at the expression Remus makes when he realizes exactly how that sounds. 

“He dumped pancake batter down my shirt!” 

“You didn’t!” The look on James’s face is aghast. “First the eggs, now this—what will people think?” 

Finn looks up from his phone. “Eggs?” 

“Sirius here dropped the eggs he was going to eat for breakfast into his—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” 

Dumo slings an arm around his shoulders. “The price you must pay for telling James to poke me yesterday. Learn from this, mon fils. Learn.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”

“Treachery!” 

Shrugging him off, Sirius grins. “I am the kitchen monster. Cross me and I will slaughter you in a food war.”

“Try me.” This is Logan speaking; Sirius hadn’t even realized he was there. 

“You’ve been warned!” 

***

“Look, there are twenty-two hockey players in this arena, and I ain’t one of them,” Moody says, and Remus can’t be sure, but he thinks Sirius looks at him. 

***

“You’re favouring your right leg,” Remus comments as soon as Sirius is off the ice. “Want me to take a look?”

“It’s fine, really—”

“I’ll try again. Want me to take a look?” 

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Loops.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

They walk into the PT room in businesslike silence, Sirius hoping all the way that one of them will break it. Neither does, and it isn’t until Remus has taken off both his skates for him, now expertly examining his left ankle, that he realizes what he should say. 

“You mentioned you played, last night.”

The finger tracing his Achilles tendon stills. “I did.” 

“Were you any good?” He knows, somewhere, that he’s entering forbidden territory. He can’t bring himself to care. 

“I’d like to believe so.”

“Be honest.” Sirens are blaring in his head. He keeps going. 

“There were rumours…” Remus bites his lip, glances away. “People said I was set for first.”

“What? How come you never said anything? C’mon, you need to play with us sometime, just scrimmage or something—”

“Maybe. That hit…”

“Right. God, I’m sorry, Rem.”

If Remus’s Adam’s apple bobs at the nickname, Sirius doesn’t notice. He certainly doesn’t try his best not to jump to conclusions. (Double negative; that’s a yes, a voice that sounds suspiciously like James’s says in his head. Shut up, he tells it.)

“It’s fine. Really. I just don’t like talking about it. And besides, I like this. Working with the team, even if I can’t be a part of it.”

“You are. A part of the team, I mean. Just as much as I am.”

“Sure.”

There’s another awkward pause before Remus clears his throat. “So, I’m gonna put on some anti-inflammatory gel because it’s a little swollen, but don’t get used to it. I want you to keep doing some stretches, not too much pressure. Capeesh?”

“What the fuck is a capeesh?”

“Just say it.”

“...Capeesh?”

“Awesome.” 

Remus leans forward towards him, their foreheads almost touching. Sirius’s breath catches. 

It’s over just as suddenly. The tube of extra-strength Voltaren is in Remus’s hand, and Sirius feels stupid for thinking he was going to—

Nope. Not thinking about that. 

When he feels tears start to prick at his eyes, he glances up at the fluorescent lights overhead; at least then he’ll have an excuse. There’s a moth resting on one. Its wings flutter once, twice, then go still. Fragile things, moths are—maybe it’s died, maybe it hasn’t. He could read into that, but he won’t. 

He jumps when the cool of the gel on Remus’s hands touches his foot. “Hey!” He yelps, looking quickly down. 

Sirius hates to succumb to cliches, but he would be lying if he was to say his heart doesn’t still. 

Because Remus has pulled the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows, and his wrist is turned to the sky—to Sirius, who has seen that mark before somewhere. 

Somewhere. He’s kidding himself. He’s seen it every day whenever he bothers to look at his own soulmark, and he’s seeing it again now. 

“You know what, I’m fine,” he blurts out, shaking his ankle out of Remus’s grasp. “Thanks, though. See you later, Loops.” 

***

Remus stays there for a second, watching Sirius leave. He doesn’t know what he did wrong, and he’s not sure he wants to. 

When he gets up to leave, tossing the container towards the first aid kit on the bench and allowing himself a small smile when it lands perfectly inside, blood rushes to his head. He closes his eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass. 

And then he crashes into Finn. 

“Whoa, sorry,” Remus says, stumbling backwards.

“Nah, don’t stress it. There’s just something I want you to check on.”

Remus is hit by a sense of deja vu. He wonders if Finn, too, is going to leave without explanation. He follows him back into the PT room, Finn gesturing for him to lock the door. 

Though he may be the shorter of the two, Remus knows it’s his job to be the bigger person. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Finn waits another moment before yanking one sleeve up to reveal three paw prints, each no bigger than a thumbnail, clustered together—one forest green, one golden, and one a deep navy blue. 

“Your soulmark.” Remus doesn’t understand. “What? Is something wrong?” 

“There’s three of them,” Finn says. “Which means there’s three of us.”

“You have two soulmates?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine, Finn. It may not be common, but it’s not unheard of. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” 

“It’s not that. It’s… hey, you can’t tell anyone this, okay?”

“I know. Doctor-patient confidentiality, remember?”

“Right.” Finn takes a breath, squeezing his eyes closed. “What if I told you I know who they are? Or I think I do?” 

“Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically.”

“Well, I’d ask you if they knew.”

“And I’d say I don’t think so. One of them’s pretty stubborn—wouldn’t see love if it stood up on the ice and sang the national anthem—and the other isn’t nineteen yet, so he doesn’t—I mean wouldn’t—have his mark yet.” 

“His?”

Finn’s eyes widen. There is a pause before he nods, slowly. “Yeah. Got a problem?”

“Trust me, I’m the last person on earth who’d have a problem with something like that. Hypothetically.” 

This, at least, earns Remus a smile. “Are you…?”

“Yeah.” 

“Cool.” Another pause. “What if I told you, still hypothetically, that they were both on the team?” 

“Then I’d say get the fuck out of here and win them over before they start thinking you’ve forgotten about them.” 

Finn, smiling ear to ear, starts to leave. “Wait,” he says, hand on the doorknob. “You said you were…”

“Gay.”

“Yeah. Do—do you know who your soulmate is?”

Remus opens his mouth to say ‘no.’ He really does. But what comes out—when he takes into account the look of recognition on Sirius’s face when Remus had his sleeves rolled up; the understanding that had passed between them outside Remus’s building (god, that was just last night); the way they’ve always just clicked—is most certainly not ‘no.’ 

“Oh, fuck, I think I do,” he says, and he and Finn run out into the hallway together. 

Sirius’s car is pulling out of the parking lot when Remus arrives, out of breath, at the front doors of the arena. 

“I don’t know why he’s in such a hurry.” Remus jumps. He hadn’t heard James come to stand beside him. “Just packed up his gear at the speed of light and left. Didn’t even shower; he said he’d do it at home.”

So Sirius had been so appalled—disgusted, even—at Remus being his soulmate that he’d left without explanation, with barely even a goodbye. There was a pleasant thought. 

He turns so his back is against the door, sliding slowly down to sit on the floor. 

“Y’know,” James says, sitting next to him, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you needed a hug.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence before Remus says, “James?”

“Yeah?” 

“I need a hug.” 

James gives the best hugs. Everyone says so. But until now, Remus has never been on the receiving end of a true James Potter hug—warm, strong, and friendly as hell. (“I want that on a t-shirt,” James says when Remus tells him so.)

But eventually, James has to go, too, and Remus heads back to the PT room. He passes Logan in the hall, looking like he’s been hit over the head with a two-by-four. Maybe it’s Finn’s doing; he had mentioned that one of them was oblivious. Logan, Remus knows, is the definition of oblivious. 

***

“And I think that’s all,” Coach Weasley says, glancing around, “Unless anyone else has something to say? Moody? Cap? Loops?” 

“Actually, yes,” says Remus after a moment. “Checkups! Not naming names but Kris lied about his rib acting up so now all of you get to be interrogated.” 

Sirius swallows. He’s not anxious to be alone with Remus; not after yesterday. There’s no way there aren’t going to be questions. 

Kasey goes first, Remus taking just under five minutes to deem him ‘good to go.’ Kris, surprisingly, is only kept for eight, despite the claim of his ribs acting up again. Finn takes the longest—fifteen minutes—and as soon as he’s out he grabs Logan and Leo by the wrists and marches them off somewhere. Sirius’s turn comes last, right after Pascal’s, who gives him a knowing look as he enters.

“Hi,” Remus says, first aid kit nowhere in sight. “Sit down.” 

“Where?” Sirius gets only a shrug in response. 

He hesitates a moment, then sits on the floor, picking at the sole of his sneaker. 

“How are you feeling?” Remus asks suddenly.

“Fine. Ankle’s not bothering me any more.”

“No, I mean how are you feeling?”

Scoffing, he starts to stand up. “I’m not doing this.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” 

“Sirius Black, sit your ass back down before I make you.” 

Sirius sits his ass back down. 

“Good. Now, how are you feeling?” 

“I’m… confused,” he says, trying to be honest without being specific. “And nervous. And I cried myself to sleep last night, which I haven’t done since I was like seventeen, so there’s that. But mostly I’m just really fucking mad.” 

“At me.” It isn’t a question. 

“No, not at you! At me! At the—” he gestures wildly. “—Universe, or whatever. Can I go now?” 

Remus doesn’t even acknowledge his request. “So you’re disappointed.”

“...Yeah.” 

“May I ask why?” 

“I’m pretty sure you fucking know why.” 

“Maybe I do. But I’d like you to explain it to me.” 

The stupid thing is that Sirius wants to talk about it. He really does. And Remus is the only person he can conceivably talk about it to. But he still chokes on his words when he says, anger burning his throat, “It was never supposed to be like this.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Sirius practically screams. “Stop trying to fucking— psychoalalyze me or something, for fuck’s sake. You fucking asked, and I—” He tears his fingers through his hair, feeling his chest start to constrict. “Just stop talking!” 

The echoes of his shouts fade out too quickly, and the only thing worse than the voices is the sound of his breathing getting faster and faster. Remus’s hand twitches, as though he wants to touch him but thinks better of it.

“It was always supposed to be someone different. Someone faceless; nameless. Someone I could run away from. I can’t fucking run away from you, Remus.

“I always thought I could lie. That I could—pretend, or something. Just keep hiding. It was supposed to be someone I could hide from, because I’ve spent my whole life fucking hiding and that’s all I know how to do. It was never supposed to be someone I could fall in love with.” 

There’s a choked noise from where Remus is sitting on the bench, but nothing else. Sirius refuses to look at him. 

“And I just—I just fucking hate this, because all I’ve been told is that hockey comes before my dreams. And that’s made sense until now because until now hockey was my dream, but now there’s you. Yeah.” 

Remus, to his credit, waits until Sirius’s breathing has calmed down and he’s furiously wiped the tears from his eyes to speak. “What do you need?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean forget everything. Forget your family, forget the team, forget me—what do you need?  

“Right now? For the rest of my life? Because those are two very different things.” 

“Let’s start with now. Can I do anything for you? Can you do anything for yourself?” 

“I need a hot chocolate.” 

***

They wait until everyone else has gone, and then make their way outside to Sirius’s car. There’s only one other in the parking lot—a grey Toyota Remus thinks belongs to Nado, or maybe Kris. He’s not sure why he thinks it matters, because it doesn’t. 

Silence hangs around them the whole four blocks to the nearest Tim Horton’s. Inhale; exhale. Inhale; exhale. This doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 

That doesn’t stop Remus from hoping. 

He knows it’s wrong; of course he does. It’s Sirius’s choice, in the end, because Sirius is the one who will be most affected. His career, his life—all on the line if he decides to trust whatever plan the world has in store for them. It’s not like that for Remus. Not anymore. 

There’s a parking spot right outside the front door. Sirius pulls into it, but he doesn’t get out right away. He glances around, makes sure there’s no one immediately in sight, and then he looks down to where his hands now rest in in his lap. Slowly, he pulls up his right sleeve to expose, bit by bit, his soulmark. 

“I don’t know why I never guessed it could be you—Wolfy McWolf Wolf.” 

Remus feels his lips twitch upwards into something resembling a smile. “I could say the same, Dog Black.” 

When he puts his hand on the console, Sirius rests his on top of it. It’s not much. 

But it’s something. 

***

Sirius looks longingly at the Boston cream doughnuts. “Please. I haven’t had one in so long.” 

“Think again, Mr. I’m-on-a-diet-plan.” 

He’s not surprised. What was he thinking, having his PT as his soulmate? (Well, he wasn’t. He didn’t get to choose. But, he thinks to himself, the point still stands.) 

“I’ll have a medium hot chocolate, please, a plain toasted bagel,” Remus looks at him and sighs. “...And a Boston cream doughnut.” 

When the food is set down on the pickup counter, Remus snatches it before Sirius has a chance to. “Hey, this is my doughnut.” 

Sirius pouts. 

“You’re cute. Here.” He tosses him the brown paper bag, and Sirius removes his prize carefully. He‘s going to eat every piece of chocolate glazing if it kills him. 

Back out in the car—this is a conversation neither of them is willing to have in the public dining area—Remus chews on his bagel thoughtfully. Sirius tries and fails not to swear when his hot chocolate burns his tongue.

“Shit!” 

Remus glances over at him. Their eyes meet for a moment, then both look away. “So,” Sirius says after a while. “I think we need to talk.” 

“Yeah.” 

Silence, then—

“You go first,” they say at the same time, and laugh. Some of the tension is broken. 

Sirius reaches hesitantly to where Remus’s arm rests between the seats. He doesn’t need to voice his question—Remus sees it in his eyes; nods. 

Up close, he can see that there are a few differences between their marks. Nothing that could possibly mean they aren’t soulmates—just the discolouring on the dog’s tail; the angle of one of the sticks; the faded white gash that stretches from one side of Remus’s wrist to the other, separating the wolf’s head from its body. Sirius doesn’t quite know what he’s doing when he presses his lips to the scar. 

When he looks up, he sees that Remus is trying not to cry. And that’s when he makes his decision. 

“I want this,” he says, voice soft but sure. “All of it.”

[livingforcoopsandoknutzy]

Could you do #31 and #52 for coops maybe? I love protective Sirius 😬

Protective Sirius owns my heart 💕

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

TW: injuries/anxiety

31: "He isn't answering his phone."

52: "You have to stay calm, alright? Your body can’t handle panic right now."

Remus always had his phone on. It was important for him to have it on so the team could contact him in case of an injury or something they're concerned about.

Which is why Sirius was currently pacing his apartment staring at his phone while James and Dumo tried to calm him down.

Remus had left early that morning to get everything set up medical wise for their trip back from the game they had the night before. However that was six hours ago and no one had heard a word from him since.

"Mon fils just try to breathe. He'll show up soon, he can't miss the bus tonight. He's okay Sirius." Groaning, Sirius slammed his phone down on the table.

"He isn't answering his phone." Sirius said, rubbing his temples to sooth his growing headache. He was sick on top of everything and Remus disappearing wasn't helping. He knew Remus was upset because it was their first game with Greyback and he had been stressed out after the game. Greyback had said something to him but he refused to tell anyone what it was.

Sirius closed his eyes tightly. He really needed him to answer his phone.

He heard James sigh and was suddenly engulfed in a hug, a calming hand rubbing his back. Sirius fell into it, letting James support most of his weight.

"You have to stay calm, alright? Your body can’t handle panic right now." Sirius just whimpers and wraps his arms around James tightly. He was glad Dumo and James had stayed with him, they were his family in every way but blood.

The door opened behind them and they all swirled around to see Leo shaking slightly from the cold.

"Anything?" Sirius asked desperately, pulling away from James to face Leo full on. Leo just shook his head sadly. "Finn, Lo, and Talker are still out looking though. I just needed to get out of the cold for a minute."

Sirius shook himself out of it, nodding his head and grabbing a blanket for Leo. Sirius hugged him absentmindedly. "Thank you for looking." Sirius said quietly. Leo nodded and let out a deep breath.

It suddenly occurred to him that he wasn't the only one who was concerned about Remus. He often forgot that the cubs all looked to Remus like an older brother.

Sirius tightened his hold on Leo trying to convey what he was thinking, Leo seemed to understand and tightened his hold briefly before letting go.

Sirius had just started packing when his phone started ringing. He ran over to where it laid on the table and picked it up to see Logan's name on his screen.

Crossing his fingers he picked up quickly. "Tremzy?" There was a rustling sound on the other end before Logan's voice filtered through.

"I found him." Sirius had expected to be relieved when he heard those words but the way Logan's voice shook only cause more spikes of anxiety to shoot through him.

"What is it? What's wrong?" It was silent for a few seconds and Sirius felt his heart drop. "Logan?" He voice was barely above a whisper but he couldn't raise it any higher.

"Cap it doesn't look good. Someone beat him up and left him in the snow. He's freezing and I called Finn and we're taking him to the hospital."

Sirius couldn't form any words. Who would've beat him up? Who left him out there? Logan's words kept echoing in his head.

It doesn't look good.

He felt someone take the phone out of his hands and whispers but he couldn't focus on anything except the need to get to Remus. He had to get to Remus.

Snapping out of his daze, he grabbed his keys quickly and sprinted to the door only to have his key snatched out of his hands. He turned to James with a frown. "I have to-"

James cut him off. "I know but you're in no state to drive. Come on." Sirius didn't have it in him to fight since it would only delay him getting to see Remus.

Sirius sat in the back with Dumo, his fingers drumming nervously against his knee. Dumo patted his knee, effectively stopping the drumming. "He'll be okay, mon fils."

Sirius hoped for everyone that it was true.

After what felt like hours but was really only about fifteen minutes they pulled up to the hospital, quickly checking in.

Finn was sitting in a chair in the waiting room, his face in his hands and eyes puffy from crying. Leo walked up to him quickly, dropping to his knees and pulling Finn into a hug.

Finn leaned into him and Leo placed a kiss on his forehead. Sirius felt a jolt in his stomach and had to look away, a renewed wave of I need to see Remus taking hold.

Finn pulled away from Leo enough to meet his eyes. He he looked absolutely exhausted and Sirius was reminded again of how it was affecting everyone around them.

Sirius briefly wondered if Remus truly knew how much everyone loved him.

"Lo's with Remus, I was waiting for y'all. They stitched up the worse of the cuts and said that he was lucky we found him in time." His voice dropped slightly and his eyes found the ground. "Said he might have gone into shock from the cold if we hadn't gotten there. He had a concussion." Finn added, lifting his head to look at Sirius.

"He was asking for you though, I can show you to his room." Sirius didn't trust his voice so he nodded in answer.

Leo, James, and Dumo took a seat. "We'll be right here if he wants to see us after he sees you." Sirius nods gratefully and followed Finn down the dimly lit hallway. It smelled strongly of disinfectant and sick but Sirius tried his best to ignore it.

Logan was sitting by Remus's side, his head resting on the bed as he laughed quietly at something Remus said.

Sirius walked forward slowly, taking in Remus's appearance. He had bruises littering his skin everywhere and about five bad cuts that had stitches. He was shaking violently and his teeth chattered loudly. He was buried under at least five blankets and he looked so tired and weak that Sirius couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes.

"Mon loup." He whispered, his vision blurring with the tears. Remus looked up and smiled softly when he saw Sirius.

"He-heyy baby, c-come here." He said, somehow managing to slur his words and stutter at the same time. Sirius walked quickly over to the side of Remus's bed and sat in the chair Logan had abandoned.

Remus grabbed his hand and Sirius whimpered at how cold it was. "I'm okay baby. Look at me I'm okay." He said softly, knowing exactly what Sirius needed, even in this state.

Sirius sniffed and rested his head against Remus's stomach. "I was so scared and you weren't answering and I knew something was wrong but no one could find you and- and-"

Sirius cut himself off with a sob and curled closer to Remus, needing to feel him close to calm his racing heart. Remus lifted his hand and Sirius could see how hard it was for him to do. Remus's fingers found their way to Sirius's hair.

"You're okay. I'm okay, baby. We're okay." Sirius let out a relieved sob and nodded against Remus's stomach.

Everything was fine. Remus would be okay and when Remus was more awake he would get to ask his unanswered questions, like who did this and why.

But for now he was content to watch Remus fall asleep, his peaceful face calming Sirius more than any words could.

[rafecameron]

super spies - r.c

Summary: In which reader follows her boyfriend to try and catch him cheating and Rafe tags along

Word count: 2.3K

A/N: This kinda sucks but im posting it anyways

*GIF is mine*

You were almost one hundred percent sure your boyfriend was cheating on you. You thought it, your friends thought it, but you needed some hard evidence before you broke up with his sorry ass. You didn’t want to throw a two year relationship down the drain over a misunderstanding, though the niggling in your stomach should be proof enough that you were right.

You text him asking him his plans for the day and he replies saying he’s staying home as he’s not feeling well. You already know this is a lie as you’re sat in your car staring at his car from across the road, you were parked close to the town centre. You supposed he really could be ill and he had stopped off to get some medicine, but you highly doubted it.

Getting out of your car you stuff your phone into your bag and head towards the shops, not sure where you would find him but determined to do so. You checked multiple shops, no sign of him in any of them. You sigh audibly to yourself, almost ready to give up before you catch a glimpse of him from across the road. You quickly duck into an alley way, poking your head round to watch where he was going, you saw him disappear into the cafe across the street.

Checking the coast was clear you bolt across the street, sneaking up to the cafe and poking your head round the corner of it to peek through the window, it’s busy inside but you can see him at the counter ordering. He didn’t look very ill to you. You glare through the window at him, watching him smile and chat to the girls behind the counter as he waits for his order, you could feel yourself getting more annoyed by the second. 

You were so engrossed on watching your boyfriends actions that you didn’t notice someone coming up behind you, their head practically touching yours before the finally spoke into your ear, “What are you doing?”

You sucked in a breath of air out of shock and spun round, glaring at the amused person behind you, “What the hell is your problem?” You yell at him, hand over your pounding heart, you quickly look back into the cafe hoping that your yelling hadn’t given away your position. Luckily your boyfriend didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Why are you sneaking around? You’re acting really weird.” Rafe laughs, hands in his shorts pockets as he waits for an answer.

You sigh running a hand through your hair, you quickly grab his arm and pull him out of view of the cafe window, “I’m watching my boyfriend.” You admit, not really sure why you were telling him the truth. Sure, you’d known him your whole life, he was your best friends brother after all, but that didn’t mean you should tell him about your cheating ass of a boyfriend.

Rafe raises an eyebrow at your confession, “That’s a bit stalkerish, don’t you think?” He asks, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“I guess,” You shrug, “But I need to see where he’s going.”

“Why?” Rafe asks, but you don’t have time to answer him as the cafe door swings open and your boyfriend appears, walking in the opposite direction with two coffee cups in his hands.

“Be quiet.” You warn the boy beside you as you head off in the direction your boyfriend was going, you could feel Rafe following behind, you hadn’t actually expected him to tag along.

“What are we? Super spies now?” Rafe laughs behind you but you just slap at his arm and shush him in annoyance.

You follow him into a small park on the outskirts of the town, keeping close to the tree line in hopes that he wouldn’t notice you and Rafe tailing him. You quickly put a hand out to stop Rafe walking as your boyfriend comes to a stop next to a bench, handing one of the drinks to a pretty blonde girl who was sat there. She stands up as he speaks to her pulling him into a hug. His free hand goes to her waist and he leans down and kisses her quick on the lips. 

Your jaw clenches in anger, gripping onto the strap of your bag harshly as you shoot daggers at the pair by the bench, “I knew it.” You said through clenched teeth.

“What a fucking asshole,” Rafe fumes from behind you, “You want me to go beat the shit out of him? Cause I will.”

You glare at them for a moment longer before turning to Rafe, eyes wet mostly from anger and frustration than from hurt, you shake your head. “He really isn’t worth it.” You reply, wiping a tear off of your cheek as you begin to head out of the park.

“You’re not even gonna confront him?” Rafe asks running up behind you, his hand rests lightly on your shoulder and you don’t have the energy to shrug it off.

“No, I’m not. Let him be happy with her, I’m over it.” You huff out, the tears on your face telling a completely different story.

“You don’t look over it.” Rafe comments, falling into step beside you.

“And what would you know about it?” You snap at him, finally pushing his hand off your shoulder.

“I know that there’s a pretty girl in tears beside me because of some absolute tool.” He states, putting his hand back on your shoulder but this time stopping you from walking, “You were right when you said he’s not worth it. He was never good enough for you.”

You scoff and shrug his hand off again, “You don’t have to be nice to me, Rafe. You don’t even know me, you’re talking shit.”

“I don’t know you?” Rafe raises his eyebrows at your statement, “I’ve known you my whole life, Y/N. I know that you spend Saturdays in Sarah’s room eating ice cream and watching shitty girls movies. I know that you broke your arm when you were seven falling off the swing in your garden. I know that when you’re sad and hurt you get angry like you are now. I also know that you’re one of the nicest people on this stupid island and you don’t deserve that asshole hurting you like this.”

You blink up at him, fresh tears falling from your reddening eyes, shocked that he paid any attention to you at all, “Rafe, I-“

“You don’t have to say anything. I get it, I’m your friends asshole older brother and you hate me, but I don’t want to see you like this.” Rafe sighs out.

You take a second to process his words before replying, “I don’t hate you, Rafe. I could never hate you.”

“Yeah? Well then why don't you let me try to cheer you up?” He suggests, smiling now which only served to pull a smile onto your own lips.

“Okay.” You nod, wiping your face free of the last of your tears and following Rafe out of the park which was now your least favourite place on the island.

“So what are we doing?” You ask him after walking in silence the whole way back to the town centre.

“I’m cheering you up.” Rafe states again, “Wait here.” Rafe pulls you to a halt and sits you down on a bus stop bench before disappearing.

You knew you should probably call Sarah and tell her exactly what’s happened, let her come and pick you up and comfort you, but for some reason you were a little excited to be spending the day with Rafe. It was probably best you didn’t tell Sarah about that part. Before long Rafe returned, handing you a cone of ice cream which caused your face to light up.

You took it from him, licking at the cold scoop on top, “This is my favourite flavour.” You state as you begin walking beside him.

“I know.” Rafe states matter of factly.

You eat your ice creams in silence as Rafe leads you to his truck, by the time you climbed into the passenger seat you had finished eating and were curious as to what you were doing next.

“So, what are we doing?” You ask, buckling yourself in and watching Rafe excitedly.

Rafe shrugs, “There’s a couple things we can do. Or I could show you somewhere, if you want?”

You furrow your brows slightly, “Show me somewhere?” You asks and Rafe just nods his head in reply, “Okay, show me.” You smile and nod.

You were expecting the drive to feel awkward, you’d never really been alone with Rafe for more than a few minutes and you were worried you wouldn’t have anything to talk about, but you were worrying for no reason. The Rafe with you today was a side of Rafe that you didn’t see very often. He was friendly and open and extremely funny. He had you in stitches in the passenger seat, making comments about the stupidest things just to hear you laughing.

You were almost upset when the truck came to a stop and it was time to get out, “I could drive round with you all day.” You admit, a slight blush on your cheeks at you confession.

“Well we can do that next then.” Rafe smiles as he climbs out of his truck.

The devastation from early this morning was completely gone from your mind as you followed Rafe, the area he had brought you to looked a little run down, somewhere between figure eight and the cut, not somewhere you expected Rafe Cameron would hang out. 

He reaches out and grabs your hand, “Watch where you’re stepping.” He warns you as he leads you off the path and into a wooded area, still gripping tightly onto your hand.

“Is this where you murder me and bury my body?” You ask playfully, eyes on the ground as you follow his steps so as not to fall over the many branches scattered across the floor.

“Am I that easy to read?” Rafe asks with a chuckle.

When Rafe’s feet stop walking in front of you you look up, peeking round from behind him, “Is this-wow.” You cut yourself off, fully stepping out from behind him, “This place is beautiful.” You comment, stepping in front of him to get a better look.

He’d brought you to the tiniest cove you had ever seen, the sand stretching no more than fifteen feet either way, rocks lining the edge of the sand and trees bunching together behind you. The ocean looked bluer her, like that pale blue water you imagine in exotic places and it lapped gently at the sand.

“How did you find this place?” You asked, finally turning away from the view to look at the boy behind you.

Rafe shrugs, “Needed to get away one day, somehow found this place. I come here whenever I need to be alone.” He admits.

“Thank you, for bringing me.” You smile, “I promise I wont keep turning up and ruining your peace.” You laugh gently.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Rafe admits, he moves to sit down in the sand and you follow suit, sitting beside him and looking out across the water.

“It’s so peaceful here, I can see why you come.” You mumble out, fingers burying themselves in the sand.

You spent the whole day in that cove with Rafe, laughing, messing around, having heart to hearts. You never imagined Rafe would have such a soft side to him, you were sure he would never want anyone else to find out.

“Are you cold?” Rafe asks, reaching over and wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side, you smile up at him appreciatively before looking back out across the ocean at the sun set, pink and orange glowing across the glittering water.

“Would you call me crazy if I said considering I caught my boyfriend cheating on me this morning I’ve had the best day ever?” You laugh softly at how stupid that sounded.

Rafe shrugged lightly, “I wouldn’t call you crazy. I’d just say you’ve learnt he was an ass who isn’t worth shit and moved on pretty quickly, it’s admirable.”

You look over at the boy sat next to you, “You think I’m admirable?” You ask.

Rafe’s eyes meet yours, the sunset casting an orange glow across his skin, “I think you’re incredibly strong, I always have.” Rafe admits.

You smile softly and don’t stop yourself when you feel yourself leaning forward, you rest a hand against his chest as your lips meet his. The kiss was soft and gently and didn’t last nearly as long as you would have liked it.

“I’m sorry-“ You start.

“Don’t me.” Rafe cuts you off, his hand coming up to the side of your face and pulling your lips against his again, this time with kiss was longer, his lips pressed against yours with more pressure. Before you knew it you were laid back against the sand, Rafe’s body hovering over yours as you got lost in the feeling of your lips together.

That’s how you spent the rest of the night, laying in the sand, pressing kisses against each others lips, noses, foreheads, cheeks. Lost in the feeling of each other and not caring about anything else, not needing anything more.

From that day onwards that became your spot. It’s where you held most of your dates, having picnics and drinks by the sea, it’s the first place you slept with Rafe and the first place you shared I love you’s and you couldn’t be more thankful to your ex for giving you the opportunity to let Rafe into your heart.