#like when do i get to know if she gets credit for the triple L turn or not??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

romanoffsbish · 3 years

Text

Die for You

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Y/N's POV

"Nat, my love, you should take a break, come have dinner with me." I gently plead to my stubborn girlfriend.

"No, I have all this paperwork to do, I can't just drop everything, just because you want me to eat with you." Nat coldly replies.

"Sweetheart, your paperwork will still be here in an hour. You need to eat, all you've had today was toast and a handful of almonds."

"Just because you don't take mission reports seriously doesn't mean I can do the same." She replies, slowly raising her voice.

"Nat, that's not true, and it's also not fair. Just come —."

"Y/N! Just shut the fuck up! I'm not going to stop what I'm doing to just eat some dinner with you. I'm so tired of you and your clingy-ness. God, Bruce was never this clingy. Do me a favor and just leave me the hell alone." Nat shouts at me, never even turning to look at me.

Ouch

"Will do." I coldly reply, not allowing my feelings to be obtainable to her. I harden my features, and leave before my resolve fails.

I shut the door calmly, even if all I wanted to do was disturb her peace and slam the door. I'm not giving her the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me.

I walk away completely stunned, but refusing to break down while still in the compound. As I approach our shared room, I'm essentially on auto pilot, I grab my duffle bag and fill it with my essential belongings—I pack enough for at least a week. I take my promise ring off, and slam it down on the bedside table, then I take off—destination unknown.

Nat's POV

After Y/N left I focused on my paperwork, and after about two hours I'd finished. I was cleaning up, and then I felt my stomach rumbling—I was hungry. As I went to leave my office there was a bag with takeout in it hanging on my door. Then it all hit me... I yelled at her, I let my stress overwhelm me and took it out on her.

I also lied, I am not tired of her clingy-ness, it's actually my favorite thing in the world.

The morning cuddles she suffocates me in every morning.

The way she clings to me for hours when one of us returns from a mission.

The kiss that takes place after the kiss that was supposed to be the 'last one.'

I love every bit of her clingy, it's like my lifeline. Her touch is something I crave at almost every moment of the day.

She is my comfort

Oh God... I compared her to Bruce, when there's no comparison to be made. He was never around enough to be clingy...

Not that I mind, because our failed relationship is what led me to her.

I really fucked up this time, I broke like every rule I've ever set for us.

I yelled, I lied, I insulted her, and most importantly I made her sad.

I no longer felt the pain of hunger, I instead felt a wave of guilt wash over me. All I could do was run to our room to try to fix this. It might be 12AM, but I just need to fix it, awake or not I want to hold her.

"Y/N, baby are you awake?" I whisper into the darkness of our room.

"Moya lyubov, I just want to apologize..."

"Detka, please.. I know it's my fault, but please don't ignore me." I plead

As I approach the bed I realize it's still perfectly made, and as I reach for Y/N my suspicions are confirmed because she's not there.

"Friday! Where's Y/N?" I frantically question.

"Miss Y/L/N left at 10:15PM and instructed me to not allow anyone access to her location unless it's Fury." The AI replies.

Shit... I'd go looking myself but she's too smart for me to find. She's usually two steps ahead of me, which is also why her paperwork wasn't a stress for her.

I just have to give her a night to cool off...

I'm not going to get an ounce of sleep though, I never sleep well when she's gone. My lack of ability to sleep is intensified whenever I'm not sure of where she is, tripled when it's my fault.

Y/N's POV

So, I drove two towns over, used a secret credit card of mine, and checked into a hotel that's conveniently located across from a bar...

"Cheers!" I shout for the tenth time as I clink my full shot glass with my empty ones.

"Ma'am, you didn't drive right?" The bartender questions me.

"I did, but I'm staying across the street." I reply with a giggle as I'm stacking the shot glasses to form a tower.

"Well it's nearing closing time, and I'm going to need you to stop that before we have a me—."

*Crash*

"Oops... I'm sorry sir." I hiccup out, with a pout to accompany it.

"Just go please, and stay safe." The poor bartender says to me as he stares at me with pity in his eyes, while also handing me a bottled water.

So, I'm maybe reacting to this situation a little too hastily. She yelled, and now I'm drunk...

However, she knows my past, and how broken I was, then she broke me too...

————— 5 Years Ago—————

"Y/N! Wake the fuck up! You ungrateful little bitch!" Lila shouts at me

It's literally 5AM...

"I'm up my love! What do you need?" I genuinely ask.

"Stop kissing my ass and maybe actually do something for once! Here's your list for today."

It's not like I'm a SHIELD agent or anything

"I'm sorry, I'll get it all done for you." I usher out, trying to avoid any further yelling.

"You better! I'll be home late tonight, the house better be spotless." She states monotonously with a hardened gaze.

"Of course, I love you baby.."

Then the door slams...

————— 2AM—————

"Hey slut! Wake up, and tell me, why is there clothing strewn all over the floor?" Lila shouts at me as she stumbles towards the bed.

"Well, that would be because you just took them off." I groan, having no fight left in me.

"Watch your tone! You can pick them up, I'm going to bed."

"I'll get it in the morning." I tiredly mumble.

"No! You'll do it now. You are so lazy and ungrateful! I give you everything and you give me nothing. You're worthless Y/N, absolutely worthless. You'll never be good enough, that's why I have been sleeping with Marcus. You can't even service me right anymore. Get out!" She venomously snaps at me, bubbling with bouts of irrational anger. She ends her rant with a brutal kick to my ribs, knocking the wind out of me as I fall to the floor.

————— Present —————

Lila and I obviously broke up after that incident, I had finally had enough, plus Nat also found out and practically packed my bags for me.

Nat and I had been friends for years, so she was furious with herself for never putting the pieces together. I reassured her over and over again that it wasn't her fault but that didn't stop her from blaming herself anyways.

I was tired of always being the victim, especially when I had the ability to defend myself. I just found myself believing all of the shit Lila spewed out at me. I'd heard all my life how worthless I was between my father, mother, and well Lila.

It took Nat two years to even be able to begin to breakdown my walls. Loving her seemed easy enough, but trusting her to hold my heart was absolutely terrifying, most definitely the hardest thing I've had to do—and I've fought aliens.

Six months into us dating she had decided to give me a promise ring.

————— 2.5 Years Ago—————

"Detka, can you come here please?" Nat sweetly called out to me from her bed.

"Coming." I shout from the restroom as I'm getting ready for our date.

"Wow... Baby, I don't know if we'll be making it to dinner." Nat says in a seductive tone, as she grips my waist and pulls me closer.

I chuckle and roll my eyes in response.

"Sit!" She asserts playfully.

I sit down and turn to face her, mirroring her position.

"So, I know we said no gifts for this anniversary, but this is more a promise so it doesn't even count as a gift. Y/N, I've loved you for far longer than I've been fortunate enough to have you. So it's easy for me to promise you that I'll love you until our final days. I vow to protect you, and to never harm you. I promise to remind you just how wonderful you are everyday. To remind you how beautiful you are when you don't see it for yourself. I've waited a lifetime to find a love like yours, and I'll do everything in my power to preserve it. You are everything to me detka! "

She nervously ushers out on the verge of tears. Seemingly afraid that I'll react defensively and make a run for it.

I knew her heart, so I knew she truly believed in her words, so I took the leap of faith.

I reached my hand out to cup her cheek, then to direct her face so our eyes were locked on one another. Then I sent her a reassuring smile, then leant in to give her a sweet kiss.

"Thank you Tasha, I know you wouldn't want me to be, but I'm thankful anyways. I love you, Natty."

Then I reach my right hand out allowing her to slip the ring on. Then she pulls me up excitedly.

"Of course detka, I love you! Now let's go eat!"

————— Present —————

So last night's 'fight,' and the way she yelled, and the words she said all sent me spiraling. I fall into a restless sleep, as all the good and bad memories of my past replay in my mind.

Nat's POV

I woke up to the bright sun peeking into my room, I'm normally an early riser, so 6AM isn't usually rough for me. Today though, it's rough seeing as how I only fell asleep at 4:45AM. My mind kept repeating the 'fight' last night, the one where I yelled at the best thing that's ever happened to me. All she tried to do was take care of me, and I sent my only sense of comfort right out the door.

I rolled over to grab my phone, hoping Y/N replied to one of my 50+ voice memos and texts. Then as I went to do so, I saw the sun rays reflecting off something on the bedside table—Y/N's ring... The sight caused my stomach to drop, and I knew I had to find her this instant. So I do what I can and take off to find the man who can find her.

"Fury!" I shout, slamming his office door open not even giving a single shit if he's busy or not.

"No, Romanoff, go away! Whatever you did, it's on you to fix it."

"Sir, please. I messed up big time and I need to fix it. She'll only talk to you right now. Please, send us on a mission or something. I just need her back and I can't do it on her timeline." I frantically usher out.

My state has clearly piqued his interest. He's never seen me in a state of desperation before, but that's exactly where I've been since I saw the ring.

"Are you sure a mission is a smart idea with all the obvious tension?" He questions.

"Fury, come on, Y/N and I have never allowed our personal issues to jeopardize a mission and you know that. We literally took a hydra base down while in the midst of an argument."

"Fine, but you better fix it! I will not hesitate to bench you. Y/N doesn't deserve any of this." He commands.

He's right, she doesn't...

Y/N's POV

*Ring*

Ow... I lazily reach out for my phone, not even bothering to open my eyes.

"Hello?" I question in a groggy state.

"Agent Y/L/N. Lovely to hear your voice. I need you at headquarters within the day. You and Agent Romanoff have a mission to gather intel in an abandoned hydra base." Fury commands.

"Shh... Lower please." I cringe.

"Are you drunk agent?" He humorously questions.

"No, just hungover." I whine.

"Well, drink some fluids and make your way here."

"Of course sir, see you soon."

I slowly sit up and chug the bottle of water the bartender gave me last night.

I got up to shower, as I wreak of Vodka.

It's literally seeping out of my pores.

As I let the hot water trickle down my body I have a moment of clarity.

Natasha clearly set this mission in motion, and now I'm going to be forced to sit on the jet with her.

She's trapping me.

———-

"Agent Y/L/N!" Hill greets me with a nod.

"Agent Hill." I reply in the same manner.

As we approach Fury's office I see her, she's anxiously awaiting my arrival, already in her suit.

"Oh my gosh, detka!" Nat shouts as she begins to approach me.

I send her a glare, and as I do I can't help but see the ring on a chain around her neck. A further reminder of exactly why I'm so mad, and why I'm so hurt.

She tries to touch me, to get any contact she can, but I brush her off and take a step back.

Hill clears her throat, trying to dissipate some of the tension surrounding us.

"Fury's waiting in his office for you two to give an overview." She states, before booking it to get away from us.

"Baby..." Nat whimpers

"Natasha stop it. Not now! We have a mission, we can potentially talk after." I command, sending her an emotionless stare.

Nat gives me a defeated nod and holds the door open for me.

Fury gave us the run down, and to my dissatisfaction it's a five hour jet ride.

As soon as the doors closed I took Nat's appearance in, and she looks rough.

"Y/N/N..." Nat tries to start as soon as the quinjet takes off.

"No Nat! I need to focus, as do you." I growl out.

She sighs and slumps into her seat and that gives me an uneasy feeling. I might be furious with her, but I obviously love her deeply. The last thing I need is her being off her game due to sleep deprivation.

"Natasha, come here." I sigh out in frustration.

She looks at me confused, but she doesn't hesitate to make her way over.

"Sleep." Is the only thing I say, ushering her to lay across the seats next to me.

She freezes, but after thirty seconds she gives in. I pull her head into my lap, and throw my arm over her.

As soon as my arm rests on her I can feel her whole body relax and within five minutes she's fast asleep.

Holding her in my arms makes me want to forgive her, because I don't sleep well without her either. If not for the massive amounts of alcohol I consumed last night I wouldn't have gotten more than an hour or two.

One thing I know for sure is I don't want us to be over, I just need her to take a step back and decide if she wants the same or if maybe she's just kept me around for the familiarity.

——

Nat and I just landed the quinjet, and put it in incognito mode.

As we approach the base I can feel Nat's stare boring into me.

"Y/N."

I hum in response

"Please, just give me a few minutes."

I roll my eyes, but then turn to face her, giving in.

"Go on."

Nat's POV

I sigh in relief, I couldn't be more grateful, I couldn't allow a mission to go on with this unsaid. Even if it's meant to be easy, life's too unpredictable.

"I'm sorry, like insanely sorry. I was stressed and yelled at you. I lied to you too, because I love everything about your clingy. I promised you I'd never hurt you and I seem to have broken all my promises, and in turn I seem to have broken you as well. I don't expect you to forgive me right now, hell I wouldn't want it. I certainly don't forgive me. You're my comfort, without you I have nothing and that's on me for pushing you out the door. I just need to know if you're still mine. When I saw your ring on the table this morning I about damn near threw up. The thought of losing you is daunting, like my absolute worst nightmare. You're too good to me Y/N, you let me nap on you on the way here. I basically broke you, and you still take care of me. I yelled at you last night, and before you left you still got me food. I love you Y/N/N, and no matter what, that will never change. If I could take last night back I would. I'd have had that dinner with you. I'd have held you in my arms as well fell asleep, and woke you up with kisses this morning."

Y/N walks over to me and pulls me into her and places her forehead against mine.

"Nat, I'm still yours, I'm not going anywhere. I'm also not really ready to just forgive you yet either. You really hurt me last night and you unraveled a lot. We can talk more after the mission. Now, let's go." Y/N reassures me.

Y/N's POV

I wasn't and I'm still not fully ready to forgive her, but being on a mission always puts everything into perspective.

So I'll baby step it, because in the end she's not Lila and I'm not Bruce.

"Ready?" Nat asks me while at the door of the presumed empty base.

"Always." I reply with a wink.

She kicks the door in and my senses are blaring. Everything inside me is saying we should turn around.

As Nat's working on downloading the data I just can't shake this terrible feeling like we're not alone.

"Nat, this doesn't feel right." I whisper to her as I stand guard.

"Relax detka, it's almost done. We should be just fine." She tries her best to reassure me.

I heard a weird noise to my left, and I immediately turned to the sound.

I get a glimpse of what appears to be half a dozen hydra agents making a break for it.

Abandoned my ass

"Shit." I whisper to myself, trying not to alert Nat.

I step out and try to get an idea of what they're doing. That's when one tries to sneak attack me from the right, only to be met with a dagger to the throat.

Nat comes out and sees him there, and sends a glare my way.

"Y/N, you should've told me we had company." Nat growls.

"I had it handled, let's go, there's at least a half a dozen more." I bite back.

We start to head towards the exit and we're so damn close.

"Fury's getting an earful when we get back." Nat grumbles.

I just chuckle lightly in response, and keep close to her, keeping my hand on her lower back as I practically push her out.

Our luck ran out as the five remaining hydra agents launch out at us. Natasha instantly gets to taking two out with her widow bites. Then she shoots them point blank in the head. Meanwhile, I shove a dagger into one's temple, then I shoot the other in the head.

Then I look up to see the last agent having the upper hand, with his gun pointed at my beautiful redhead as she's facing me.

I waste no time as I throw her to the side, and as I go to throw my dagger at him he is shooting me in the abdomen.

My final dagger hits him in his heart, and I fall to my knees while clutching my stomach.

"No!"

"Get up detka!"

“Lyubov’ , we have to get you out of here."

I vaguely hear Nat shouting at me, everything is currently spinning. I feel a force lift me off the ground, and then next thing I feel is my bareback to the metal medical table in the jet.

Nat's POV

"Friday! Autopilot us to the nearest hospital!" I shout frantically, while attempting to stop the blood that's gushing out of Y/N's abdomen.

"Hey! You do NOT get to die!!!! You can't leave me Y/N/N. I can't do this life without you." I can't help but shout at her

"Hey, don't yell at me." She pouts in response, in a state of delirium.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I'm just scared. You've lost a lot of blood. I can't go on without you by my side, don't you understand that?!. Why?? Why did you do that?"

"Baby, shh. It's okay!!! No way was I letting you get hurt Natty. You're not allowed to die, I made the rule up in the moment." Y/N mumbles.

"This isn't a joke Y/N. You don't get to die either! So you better fight, you better hold on. Please hold on for me my love."

"It's okay... I love you Natty."

"Nothing about this is okay Y/N... God, this is all my fault. I promised I'd never hurt you and everything I did led us to this moment."

"Stop calling me that." She pouts dramatically, if she wasn't sort of bleeding out I'd be melting at the sight.

"Detka, stop talking, save your energy." I plead.

"You're worth it Natasha Romanoff, I'd die for you in a heartbeat if it meant you got to keep going. Promise me you'll keep going, even if I don't make it. The world needs you. Also, please hear me when I say that this isn't your fault. You yelling at me last night isn't the reason a hydra agent shot me. Don't draw that conclusion, don't overthink it Natty." Y/N ushers out in a daunting state of clarity.

"Live for me instead!" I command while placing a kiss to her temple and rushing her into the hospital as the jet lands.

That sounded too much like a goodbye, and that's the last thing we're doing today.

—————————————————————

3,882 words.

… Live For Me (Part 2)

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasharomanoffpov #natasharomanoffxyn #gxg #natasharomanoff #black widow #black widow pov #black widow x y/n

252 notes · View notes

helpbutton95 · 3 years

Note

Hey, can I request supercorp for #14 for the prompt thing. If you still doing it that is. I hope you have a good day, and remember to drink some water :)

It is a well known fact that Lena Luthor has an alcohol problem. In fact, even Lena herself knows it's a problem. One she should probably give up.

She started drinking at the tender age of seventeen, when Andrea had snuck some tequila back from her father's chalet in the Swiss Alps.

Lena didn't like tequila.

Lex had given her a taste of Scotch one winters break at the age of nineteen. Her father drank scotch. She recalled a distant memory of a glass shattering at her mother's head.

Lillian had given her a glass of Scotch at her father's funeral and it burned it’s way down her throat. As had the pain of the loss of a parent.

Lena learned that the burn of the scotch helped burn away the pain of her days. First it had been the pain of Lex, then of her work days at L-Corp, the slanderous titles the media portrayed of her.

But a drink she never thought she would learn to love was Kara's hot chocolate.

The introduction came when Lena had first became friends with Kara. Kara, the bubbly excited, reporter that had asked to have a movie night last minute on a Thursday.

"Please, Lena, I wouldn't ask if I know you wouldn't love it," Kara begged down the phone. Lena sighed, staring at the prototype drawings in front of her.

"I don't know, I have so much work to do," Lena admitted. It wasn't a lie. It was a lot. She had a lot of approvals to go through, double and triple checking things worked.

“Pleeeeaaaasssseeee,” Kara whined, and Lena could practically hear the pout she had only witnessed a handful of times.

“Alright,” Lena conceded, “I’ll leave right now,” Lena said. If she could leave and get back quickly, then she could get through a large amount more before three am.

Lena didn’t make it back to the office,

She didn’t leave Kara’s. First, it was The Guardian, then An Officer and a Gentlemen, then after much arguing over whether it was appropriate to watch a Christmas film outside of the festive season or not, The Holiday.

“Oh, you know what would go great with this?” Kara asked as she paused halfway through the opening credits and bounced from her position in the couch. Lena braced herself on the arm as the blanket she was wrapped under was thrown in her face. Now, changed from her dress into Kara’s sweats and oversized jumper hanging from her shoulders. The cold of Kara’s apartment nipped at her arm and she curled deeper under the blanket as she watched Kara pull jars and mugs from cupboards.

“It’s the best,” Kara said, practically jumping up and down like a child. Five minutes later, Kara returned with the most obscene drink Lena had ever seen. The sickly chocolaty smell hit her nose and made her stomach turn.

“Kara, I appreciate it but I really don’t like hot chocolate, sorry I should have told you,” Lena apologised. She felt shaky with nerves, she didn’t want to hurt Kara’s feelings after all.

But what was worse, that truly pained her, was the horrified look on Kara’s face.

“You... Don’t like hot chocolate?” Kara asked slowly, as if her brain hadn’t quite caught up with Lena’s words.

“I’m so sorry, I should have told you-”

Lena stopped mid apology as she witnessed Kara shake her head before sipping from Lena’s mug after a sip from her own.

“Did you just drink from both mugs?” Lena asked, completely perplexed.

“More for me,” Kara shrugged with a grin that put Lena more at ease than she thought it could.

Kara didn’t make Lena hot chocolate again, not when they had weekly movie nights, or when Lena started coming to game night, or even when Lena moved into Kara’s apartment after the whole ‘disowned’ thing. It took approximately four years after Alex got married, sitting in Alex’s living room against Kara, before Lena took another sip of Kara’s hot chocolate.

“Excuse me?” Esme asked, standing directly in front of Kara and Lena, small hands on hips.

“I just don’t like it,” Lena tried to justify. All eyes were on her when Esme discussed favourite beverages. Lena had been told under no circumstances by Kelly previously that she could say scotch.

“But everyone likes it,” Nia chipped, a deep scowl decorating her face. “Even Brainy likes it,” it was said with such conviction that, that was it decided.

Lena shook her head.

“But you like Kara’s,” Alex said with a wave of her hand, like that was obvious, but Lena glanced back at her girlfriend, who blushed. Because in four years of dating, six of being best friends, Lena hadn’t once taken a sip of Kara’s favourite drink.

There were gasps of shock when Lena admitted she hadn’t. It took a lot of convincing, mainly from Kara, to move the topic on, but Lena could still feel the questioning gaze and until they were back in Kara’s apartment that night, Lena watched as Kara made her usual nightly routine, a mug of hot chocolate and a pot of tea for Lena. She watched her boil the milk with her laser vision. She could be so lazy some times, Lena thought. Then there was the adding of the powder and then the whipped cream topped with marshmallows. The beverage always looked like it was an extravagant affair for a late night drink, but as Lena watched Kara, she watched as the stress of Kara’s week slowly seeped from her shoulders.

She waited until Kara set the mugs down and turned to the television to decide what late night show to watch when Lena took the mug. She inhaled the sickly sweet scent that often repulsed her and pushed past it. With a tentative sip, her taste buds exploded in the bursting flavour of the cream and rich chocolate.

“You know, that’s mine,” Kara asked, and Lena turned to find her girlfriend staring at her with an extremely unimpressed look.

“I thought I should try it,” Lena shrugged in her defense.

“And you don’t like it,” Kara said slowly, reaching for the mug.

“I may want to retract that statement.”

Kara’s brows dipped. Her words were slow and borderline childish. “But it’s my hot chocolate.”

“And I like it,” Lena shrugged, “just like I like you,” Lena laughed as she kissed her cheek.

It wasn’t the last time Lena snuck sips of the hot beverage. She found it comforted her on tough nights, or nights where the nightmares were just too much. It helped her when Kara was in danger or they just needed a night to be children again. It helped their daughter when the first of her terrors crept into her dreams. The sickly beverage Lena had once detested comforted her when nothing else could. Just as a blonde superhero had always been there for her.

For more intimacy filled prompts, find them here.

#supergirl #supercorp #better late than never #prompts #intimacy prompt

38 notes · View notes

ssahoodrathotchner · 4 years

Text

There is a Light That Never Goes Out

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you get kidnapped by an unsub and needless to say, it’s not fun

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: swearing, blood, injuries, stabbing, panic attacks, kidnapping, hospitals, angst and fluff

A/N: wanted to write something angsty with a happy ending and here we are! the longest thing i’ve ever written

Masterlist

---

In hindsight, things could have gone better. The case itself was pretty straightforward, with the biggest complication being where the hell Michael Robertson was hidden away. However, no man can hide from Penelope Garcia and within six hours of figuring out Robertson was the unsub, she had his location narrowed down to a small farm in the middle of nowhere. Of course, you thought, where else would a guy like him torture and kill seven women.

Pulling up to the seemingly small farmhouse, you and Reid exchange looks before tightening your bulletproof vests. Double—triple—checking your gun, you tune in to Hotch and Rossi giving directions to the team and local PD about breaching the home. Hotch and Prentiss will take the front door, Morgan and Reid the back, while Rossi and JJ have the barn—you’ll take the side door and meet in the middle, easy. Local PD will secure the perimeter and provide backup as needed. Giving Hotch a reaffirming nod, you disperse to your entry points.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your weapon and prepare to bust this door down in hopes that Robertson will surrender peacefully and you can all go home because fuck do you want to get out of Iowa. Hearing Hotch’s signal, you kick down the door in front of you—a welcome plus of your job—and announce your presence. However, you’re met with a hard elbow to the face. Reeling backwards and tasting blood, you only have the sense to cup your now bleeding—and most likely broken—nose with your free hand.

“Motherfucker,” you spit out in pain, the comms in your vest picking up your voice.

“Y/L/N, report,” Hotch demands, voice scratchy through your earpiece.

However, you are unable to respond as Robertson moves towards you and, taking advantage of your dazed state, hits you over the head with a fucking two-by-four once, twice, nope three times before the jagged wood floor is rushing up to meet you as you collapse into darkness. Oh, fuck. You’re out before you hit the ground.

---

As soon as Aaron hears you swear, he knows it’s bad, but one look at Emily has him forging ahead and clearing each room like he is supposed to. Checking in with the other duos, Hotch can’t help but worry when you don’t respond immediately. When he finally gets to the mid-point of the house and the exact spot where you were supposed to rendezvous with him, Emily, Derek, and Spencer, his worries spike exponentially.

“Where’s Y/L/N,” he spits out.

“We didn’t see her,” Morgan answers carefully. “We assumed she found you guys,” he adds, and Hotch grits his teeth.

“Clear in the barn,” he hears Rossi report, and he sighs.

“Y/L/N is missing,” he says, surprisingly calm. “Report to the house.”

Police officers shuffle through the house, and Aaron tries not to let his irritation show. Turning back to the team, he can’t help but notice how worried the rest of them are.

“Our one and only priority is finding Y/N,” he states.

“I’ll get Garcia onboard to coordinate what happens next,” Morgan says, excusing himself from the tension of the farm house sitting room. “Expect some very distressed calls in your futures,” he finishes with a shake of his head.

“Emily and I will re-check the rest of the house, just in case,” JJ supplies, and Hotch nods. Reid, looking uneasy, makes some excuse about double-checking the floor plans of the property before skirting out the door, leaving Dave and Aaron—and some police officers—to survey the bland artwork on the walls.

Grasping the bridge of his nose, Aaron tries to take a deep breath, but he can’t; not with you missing on the property owned by an unsub fucking known for mutilating women.

“Hey,” Rossi approaches from Hotch’s left. “We’ll figure this out. Y/L/N’s a smart girl; she won’t go down easy,”

Hotch can only hope that Rossi’s right, but he trusts you; trusts your instincts as an agent.

---

You come to in bits and pieces. Some part of your brain recognizes that you’re being dragged by your armpits down some rickety stairs and deep into the earth; another part recognizes that your hands are free, which means your gun is no longer in your grasp. Fuck fuck fuck. A particularly harsh blow to your head from the hands of your captor stops any further thoughts. Fuck you, Robertson.

---

Regrouping with the team outside the house, Hotch starts to get agitated.

“What do you mean there’s an elaborate tunnel system beneath the house, Garcia,” he almost yells. “How did you not catch this before.”

“Well,” Reid steps in, “the only plans that include this system are dated between 1910 and 1924 which means that they were built in at least the 1900s and the fact that they do not appear in any property plans since those dates suggests that the subsequent owners either didn’t know about the tunnels, or they actively chose to not include them for some reason which—”

“—which means that we don’t really have a clue as to what the current tunnels look like,” Morgan finishes for him, and Hotch internally blanches.

No, he thinks to himself. I will not lose her like this, not after Haley.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch tries to re-assess the situation, but finds himself unable to breathe deeply. At all. Gasping, he tries to communicate to the team the severity of their situation, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. Vaguely, he hears Morgan clear the room as JJ gently takes his upper arm and steers him out the back door of the house on to the porch.

“Hotch,” he can’t stand to listen to her voice; her calm demeanor only increasing his anxiety about your current situation.

“Hotch,” JJ tries again, harsher this time. “I need you to take a breath; only one, just now, that’s it.”

I can do that, he thinks. And he does; he takes one solitary breath.

“Good,” she encourages, “now do it again, just once.” And so he does, again, and again, for JJ.

Once his breathing is under control and JJ steps back with an appraising eye, he speaks.

“We need to find her,” he gasps out. “We have to; I can’t—” he trails off.

With a softness he has yet to comprehend, JJ looks into his eyes and sighs.

“We’ll find her, Hotch,” she reassures him. “She’s on the property, she has to be, and we’ll find her.”

With a shaky nod, Hotch allows JJ’s words to take hold of him, and he goes back to being the BAU’s Unit Chief. Gazing out on the field behind the house, his resolve is firm; Aaron Hotchner will find you, Michael Robertson be damned.

---

The next moment you remember—thanks broken nose and probable concussion—is your body being roughly thrown into a plastic chair, sans bullet-proof vest, and then your arms and legs being tightly tied down. A rag of some sort is crudely stuffed into your mouth, and you can’t help but gag because fuck does it do nothing to replace the gross taste of blood in your mouth. At least it’s me, you think to yourself, I’d hate to think of anyone else from the team in this position. And with that thought, you drift out of consciousness with Aaron’s face in the forefront of your addled mind. Love, I hope you find me soon.

---

It’s been three hours and Aaron Hotchner is losing his mind. Garcia, to her credit, is working furiously to uncover literally everything she can on Robertson, his family, friends as well as the closest neighboring farms to the one the BAU is currently ripping apart. Prentiss and Morgan have taken to meticulously going through each and every room of the house and barn in hopes of discovering some new and hidden passageway to the tunnel system that resides under the structure. Reid is creating an enhanced geographical profile of the property and those that encompass it, while JJ and Rossi discuss the nuances of Robertson’s profile somewhere with the local cops. Aaron, however, can only seem to scowl at the field of corn behind the house and remember the last moments he had with you before you disappeared.

“Hotch,” he turns when he hears Morgan’s voice. “We’ve got something.”

Heart racing, Hotch nods and follows Morgan out the side door—the one you entered—before stopping just short of the man in front of him.

“Local crime scene techs just confirmed that there’s blood here, and judging from the placement of the drops, it seems that Robertson got the drop on Y/L/N,” he states with a grimace, and Hotch can’t help but scrutinize the ground where your blood has fallen.

“Reid’s got a better handle on what might have happened, but I thought you’d like to see it for yourself,” Morgan finishes, and Hotch nods tightly before moving off in search of Reid. Finding the young profiler in the front room of the farm house, Hotch only has to look at him before he’s revealing all that he’s learned since your disappearance.

“It seems that the blueprints for the house were updated once since the 1920s, which was in 1953, so that’s our most recent map of what the whole underside of the property looks like,” Reid continues. “From what I can tell, there are at least five entrance points, three main walkways, and eight different chambers that appear to function as some form of bunker for the previous owners, and so my guess is that Y/N is being kept in one of the rooms, just like the previous victims most likely were,” Reid pauses. “Not that Y/N will become another victim, I’m just saying that for the sake of the case it appears that—” Emily enters the room and Hotch has never been so grateful for her presence in a room, ever.

“Hey, I don’t mean to disrupt Reid’s briefing, but local PD has found a possible way into the fuckin’ labyrinth out in the barn,” she states, curiously looking over at the map Reid has scribbled onto the property blueprints.

Turning his head sharply, Hotch nods at Prentiss and uncrosses his arms as she leads him out of the farm house as Reid continues to ponder the blueprints in front of him.

---

The next time you rise to consciousness, Robertson is dragging an ugly hunting knife across your collarbones, shoulder to shoulder, and cooing at you to wake up. Weirdo.

“Ah, there you are baby,” Robertson says sweetly. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up for me.”

You let out a groan and through the gag in your mouth—holy fuck does it taste like dirty socks—you attempt to cuss out your captor.

“Now, now, Sweetness,” Robertson chides. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” and with that terrifying statement, he leans closer to you and pulls the knife across your left shoulder, effectively slicing open your work shirt. Damn, you think to yourself, this was actually one of my favorites. But that’s the last coherent thought you produce because the combination of Robertson’s knife, the searing pain of your broken nose, and your own possibly concussed brain are unable to completely comprehend any more information as the man in question leaves light slices across your upper chest. Thankfully, the rag—sock? —in your mouth muffles your whimpers as you jolt in pain. Aaron, please find me soon you think before the feeling is all-encompassing and your mind shifts to merciful blankness.

---

“I wish I could do more,” Garcia states, but Hotch can only sigh in agreement.

“You’ve done well, Garcia. Let me know if you find anything else,” Hotch states, eyes darting over to the geographical profile Reid is standing in front of, conversing with Emily. The tunnel found by local PD had been a decoy, and they were no closer to finding you.

“Of course, Sir. I’m on it like Sergio on tuna. Garcia out,” and with that statement, the line goes dead.

Putting his phone in his pocket, Hotch walks towards Reid and Prentiss with purpose.

“Reid, have you found anything else about the tunnel system?”

“It appears that there are a series of false entrances that don’t actually connect with the full network of passageways,” Reid states gesturing wildly at the map. “The full system can only be accessed from four different vantage points, but given that this map hasn’t been updated since the 50s, I only have a general idea of where the entryways are given that the buildings on the property have shifted since the last accurate map was compiled.”

“The good news is that two of the entrances seem to be contained within this house, the bad news is that they may have been bricked over by renovations to the building,” Prentiss says with a grimace. “The other two entries are somewhere out in what’s now the fields, so we’ll have less luck finding them, even with all the extra help from the PD.”

Hotch’s shoulders sag under the weight of the new information and he frowns at the agents in front of him. Squinting hard at the blueprints haphazardly tacked to the board in front of him, Hotch tries to make sense of the possible entry points in the house he’s currently standing in.

“Get Morgan in here,” Hotch finally says. “He’s got experience with restoration work and may have a better idea on where the unsub could have taken Y/N from within the house given the structural changes.” And with that, Hotch strides out the front door of the house and leans on the porch railing. Y/N, I’m coming for you, just hold on a little longer.

---

Robertson is a bitch. And he has the knife to prove it.

“So, you’re impotent, that’s why you’re using such a big knife, right?” you taunt him after who knows how fuckin’ long. “You see, we thought you had, mmm, issues, but we didn’t know for sure; this just confirms it.”

He took the gag out of your mouth to hear you scream, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing so. However, instead of responding to your jabs, Robertson just drives the knife a little bit deeper into your torso and you let out a hiss in retaliation, throwing your head back.

“God, you sure know how to treat a girl, don’t ya?” you grit out between pained breaths. “No wonder a charmer like you had so many lady friends.”

“They didn’t appreciate me!” Robertson yells. “Just like you don’t appreciate me!”

The next slash glances off your ribs and yikes does it fuckin’ hurt. Jerking away as best you can, you contemplate your options. At this point, you know your only way out is to either escape—as if—or to make Robertson see some semblance of reason. Otherwise, you aren’t going to make it out of here alive. Fuck, you think, I’m so sorry, Aaron. I promise I’ll find you. Or you’ll find me. A particularly vicious cut to your cheekbone draws you back to reality, and once again, you are only able to focus on the pain and Robertson’s maniacal laughter. Creepy motherfucker.

---

Hotch has never seen Morgan so focused. Scouring the blueprints with Reid and Prentiss, Garcia on speakerphone, Morgan works to figure out where the hell Robertson could have disappeared to inside the house. With you. Hotch has taken to pacing the length of the house in order to keep his nerves and his temper somewhat under control; he needs to be alert and ready to get to you as soon as possible. Running a hand through his hair and over his face, Hotch sighs which draws the attention of Rossi and JJ who slowly drift over to him from their place by a window.

“Hotch—” JJ starts but is cut off by a hard look.

“We’ll find her, Aaron.” Rossi tries. “You know that she’s here somewhere, probably giving Robertson all sorts of hell.”

“We’ve seen what Robertson does to his victims, Dave,” Hotch retorts. “He basically slices women to pieces and beats them,” taking a breath, he tries to calm himself. “We need to find her alive,” he finishes softly.

JJ and Rossi share a concerned look before Rossi sighs and steps forward to place a hand on Hotch’s shoulder.

“We’ll find her. There’s no way—” he’s cut off by an excited yell and the three of them swing around towards the source of the noise which happens to be Prentiss.

Morgan’s already moving, stalking into another room and Reid, accompanied by Garcia on the phone, hurries to catch up.

“We found the door Robertson most likely used to take Y/L/N and we’re pretty sure it connects to the full system under the property,” Prentiss explains and that’s all it takes for Hotch to stride off after Morgan and Reid.

Head spinning, Aaron fluctuates between hope and hopelessness. He knows they’ll find you; Robertson can’t hide in the tunnel system, no matter how well he knows them, but he’s most worried about you. We’re coming for you, Y/N. I won’t let this bastard get away with this.

---

Your whole body fucking hurts and you’re pretty sure it’s not just because you started off your captivity with a broken nose and concussion. Your mouth tastes like blood again from how hard you’ve clamped down on your bottom lip to resist screaming as loud as you can. Robertson is cruel, there’s no question about that. You’d seen the photos of his other victims, and now you were undergoing the same things those women did in their last moments. Your entire body feels heavy, and if you weren’t tied down to a chair, you don’t think you’d be able to hold yourself up. Between the blood loss and head trauma, you’re surprised your thoughts are still relatively coherent.

Robertson is pacing in front of you, muttering to himself, shooting looks your way, and absentmindedly gesturing with the knife in his hand. Fantastic, you think hazily, he’s most likely devolving and I’m the only one around. Yay. Sucking in a breath, you wince as the action reignites a dizzying pain in your torso. Letting out a groan, you flinch as Robertson turns towards you, eyes shining with something that makes your heart race a little quicker.  

“Now, baby,” he states with a twisted grin—grimace? —that makes you grit your teeth even harder. “I’m not done with you yet, don’t worry. I still wanna hear you scream for me.”

Here we go again.

“Do your worst,” you snarl at him, and while that’s probably the worst thing to say to a devolving unsub, you’re too fed up and tired to care at this point; you can take it, you have to take it so you can survive. C’mon, Aaron. Where’s my knight in shining armor? Robertson descends on you with renewed vigor, and after the fourth slice to your leg, your ears rush and your head drops to your chest as you pass out. Fuck.

---

The trap door Robertson dragged you down can only be accessed by sliding one of the wooden floorboards back half an inch before it clicks into place and the adjoining boards lift slightly, revealing the way into the tunnels. How Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss figured that out is beyond Hotch’s current thought process because how many times had he paced over that exact spot? As soon as the hatch is lifted, all he sees is blood—your blood—sprinkled on the steps that descend into the darkened passageway. He takes a sharp breath and somewhere behind him, he can hear JJ gasp and Morgan swear.

“Medics are on stand-by,” comes Rossi’s voice from his shoulder.

Nodding tersely and setting his shoulders, he turns to the team.

“Stay alert and stick together. We don’t know where Robertson is, so clear the rooms and move on.” His voice is hard and leaves no room for debate.

“Let’s go get our girl,” Morgan adds, and with that, the team takes careful steps down into the hallway, following Aaron.

---

The first room they happen across is empty, as are the second, third, and fourth rooms. Forging ahead, knowing that they’re only closer to where you are, they continue. Turning a corner, Hotch can hear movement and his heart speeds up. Robertson. Signaling to the team to pause, he gauges the best course of action. He doesn’t know what state you’re in, or Robertson for that matter, and so he has to approach the situation with caution. Gun in hand and stepping to one side of the door, he lets Morgan and Prentiss move to the other. Backed by JJ, Reid, and Rossi, Hotch nods and Morgan kicks down the door before moving quickly inside, yelling at Robertson. Prentiss follows him and then Hotch steps through and freezes.

Robertson is crouched over your crumpled and bloody body looking wild-eyed at the agents in front of him. Hotch can’t breathe. You aren’t moving.

“She’s mine,” Robertson snarls, brandishing a knife at Morgan as he tries to get closer. “Mine!”

“Okay, Michael,” says Rossi calmly, “Let’s figure this out.”

“No. She’s mine! I’m not done,” Robertson’s reply is harsh, bordering on a yell.

“What do you mean you aren’t done, Michael?” Hotch’s voice is cold and flat. What more could Robertson possibly want?

“She didn’t scream! I need her to scream for me!” and with that, Robertson runs the tip of his blade down your already bloody cheek.

The team is stunned, but then Robertson raises the knife in the air over your chest and—

He falls.

Looking slowly to the right, Hotch sees Prentiss, gun raised, and then to Robertson splayed on the ground, blood pooling under his head. Vaguely, Hotch hears Reid calling for medics and alerting the local officers to what just happened. Morgan’s already at your side, turning you slowly, carefully, gently on to your back, and that’s when Hotch rushes to you, gun holstered.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. There’s blood everywhere. Aaron can’t tell if you’re breathing. He chokes back a sob. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.

“Hotch, she’s alive,” Morgan breathes, and with that, Hotch lets out a sigh of relief and allows himself to fully look at you, blinking a few times to rid his eyes of tears.

Your face is littered with shallow cuts. Your nose is bloody—definitely broken—and there’s already bruising around your eyes. Your shirt is torn and bloodied in so many places, as are your pants. He can see blood leaking slowly multiple places on your thighs, and even more from your arms and midsection. Your eyes are closed.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Hotch presses down on one of the lacerations to your torso, Morgan taking another, and JJ appearing to apply pressure on a cut that’s just a little too close to your femoral artery.

“C’mon, Sweetheart,” his voice shakes. “I need you to open your eyes, Y/N. Have to know you’re okay.”

There’s yelling from down the hallway, medics bustling into the room and taking over. Aaron can’t make himself let go of you, and it takes Rossi’s gentle but firm hand to guide him back and away from you. He can’t stop shaking.

---

You wake, briefly, when you feel yourself being lifted. Squinting, you try to turn your head, as the rest of the world comes crashing back in a wave of sound and movement. Vision blurred, you try and make sense of what’s going on around you.

“She’s awake!” calls a voice from your left, and you can make out the outline of… JJ? They’re here.

You’re shifted around more, and you get the idea that you’re being strapped down to a gurney as medics begin to wheel you out of the hellhole where Robertson held you.

Suddenly, there’s a hand grasping yours, and before your mind can comprehend what’s happening, all you hear is—

“Sweetheart…?” in the most relieved, reverent, adoring, tone you think you’ve ever heard in your life and it’s Aaron holding your hand. He’s here he’s here he’s here. He found me.

“Aaron,” his name leaves you in a sigh. “Y’found me,” you say softly, looking him over.

“Of course, I did, Sweetheart,” he says, just as soft.

“Where’s…?” you don’t want to say his name.

“Dead. Emily shot him,” Aaron answers in a low voice. Good fucking riddance.

You hum and ease back as the gurney jostles you particularly hard. Gritting your teeth, you groan as you head starts to pound even harder. Feeling yourself losing consciousness, you squeeze Aaron’s hand.

“Love you,” and before he can respond, you vision goes black and all is quiet once more.

---

After you get loaded into the nearest ambulance and speed towards the hospital, Rossi confirms that local officers have secured the scene. With not a moment to waste, the team takes off after the ambulance. Morgan calls Garcia to update her on your status and spends a majority of the ride to the hospital convincing her that she doesn’t need to fly over to see you. Hotch stares blankly out the window and replays the entire interaction with Robertson. He saw the damage Robertson did to you—I need her to scream—and can’t help but feel a little bit of pride at the fact that you didn’t give in to Robertson despite the obvious pain you endured.

The SUVs pull up to the hospital, screeching to a halt, before all the doors are thrown open and the team hurries into the lobby. The nurse at the desk looks up to find six disheveled agents crowding around the counter, worry across all of their faces.

“We’re here for Agent Y/L/N, she probably arrived twenty minutes ago,” Hotch states, voice surprisingly calm.

“I can confirm she arrived and that she’s currently being attended to, but I don’t know any more than that at this moment,” the nurse replies, looking at the computer screen.

“Do you know if she’ll be okay?” asks Spencer in a subdued voice.

“The severity of her injuries is yet to be determined, I’m afraid. She has obvious head trauma, numerous lacerations, and possible internal bleeding, but until I get another update, that’s all I can share,” the nurse says with a sad smile.

Nodding, Aaron steps away from the counter. C’mon, Sweetheart.

“Thank you,” comes Rossi’s voice from Hotch’s left, and with that, the team migrates to the largest cluster of chairs where they promptly collapse in exhaustion.

Sitting down heavily, Hotch rests his elbows on his knees and runs a hand over his face. Prentiss drops in to the chair on his left, Rossi settles in on his right. Across from them, Reid and JJ sit on either side of Morgan. Looking down at his hands, Aaron realizes that they still have your blood on them. He glares at them, somehow wishing that if he stares hard enough, it’ll vanish on its own. A hand closes around one of his, and he looks at Emily.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says softly, then, louder, “You guys too, Morgan and JJ. Let’s go.”

It’s then that Aaron looks—really looks—and sees that like him, Morgan and JJ have your blood on their hands as well. With a nod, they all stand. Morgan and Hotch walking into the men’s room while Emily follows JJ to keep her company. Mechanically, the two men stand side-by-side and turn on the taps, starting the slow process of washing away the blood that’s dried on them. Glancing to the side, Hotch sees Morgan, brow furrowed in concentration, as he scrubs under his nails.

“Thank you,” he says, stopping his own motions to fully look at Derek, who turns at the sound of his voice.

“For what?” Morgan asks, slightly confused.

“For going over the blueprints with Reid, Prentiss, and Garcia. For figuring out where in the house Y/N had disappeared. For going above and beyond to find her and— “

“Hotch, you don’t have to thank me for that,” Morgan cuts him off. “I will do everything in my power to make sure this team is okay, you know that,” and with a small grin, he adds “I’m just happy that one of my hobbies was useful for the case.”

Hotch can’t help but smile a little in return, and with that, they go back to washing their hands in a more comfortable silence.

---

Walking back into the waiting area, Hotch is confronted with the sight of Reid and Rossi surrounded by a pile of snacks from one of the vending machines. He pauses for a second, shakes his head, and then continues back to the chair he was sitting in earlier. Once he’s seated, Reid tosses him a bag of something—chips? —which he dutifully opens under the watchful eye of Rossi. Morgan snags his own snack and then leans against the nearest wall, content to stand. A short while later, Emily and JJ return, Emily’s arm secure around JJ’s shoulders, before they too are digging in to the veritable mountain of food that Reid and Rossi managed to accumulate. Sitting in silence—save the crunching of whatever food they were eating—the team takes a second to contemplate and reassess the day.

The sound of Velcro breaks Hotch out of his trance, and he looks over to see Morgan undoing his bulletproof vest. The vests which the rest of them are still wearing. There’s a scramble after that, to rid themselves of their exterior layer, which are then haphazardly stacked on an open seat. Taking a deep breath for what feels like the first time in days, Hotch sinks back in his chair and closes his eyes, head tipped back against the cool wall behind him.

“Anyone want water?” Reid is the first to break the tenuous silence. There’s a chorus of hums and head shakes before he stands and wanders off, presumably in the direction of the vending machines where he first got the food.

“She’ll be fine, you know,” Rossi says looking at Aaron, whose eyes are now open, staring at the ceiling. “She’s tough, tougher than I think we gave her credit for.”

Hotch sighs in response, but Emily is the next to speak up.

“Robertson said she didn’t scream, which…” she trails off, looking at the floor before meeting Aaron’s eyes. “I don’t think I could have done that, not like that. I can’t imagine what that was like for her...”

“I wish we had gotten there sooner,” Hotch finally says. “I wish—”

“No.” Morgan says, a hard edge to his voice. “Don’t do that to yourself, Hotch. Or any of us. We did what we could and we found her alive.”

“I know, but—” Hotch is cut off by JJ this time.

“But nothing, Aaron. She’s going to be okay.” And with that, JJ moves from her chair to the one next to him and gently puts a hand on his shoulder. “She was awake and talking before they took her away, you know that,” she adds softly.

“Hey guys, so I talked to the nurse and—” Reid returns and with those words, Hotch sits straight in his seat, JJ’s hand falling away as his attention and that of his teammates focus on what Reid has to say next. “—and apparently, Y/N only needed minor surgery to repair some internal damage from three of the stab wounds and the other slashes were relatively shallow, so they just needed to be stitched up. She also has contusions on her head from where I’m guessing Robertson hit her to initially subdue her, and she does have a concussion and broken nose, but according to the nurse Y/N only has to stay here for a maximum of three days to make sure that there are no serious effects from the concussion and to keep an eye on her sutures before she’ll be cleared to leave.” Reid’s final statement hangs in the air, sinking in, and once it does, Aaron hangs his head as tears fall down his cheeks. You’re okay. You’re alive you’re alive you’re alive.

Derek immediately calls Garcia to give her the good news and her scream of excitement can be heard by the rest of the team even though Morgan did not have her on speakerphone. Rossi chuckles to himself before looking over at Aaron and his shaking shoulders. Putting a hand on his back, Rossi doesn’t say anything, but instead, provides silent support to the man who almost lost what little he had left.

“Agent Y/L/N?” comes a voice from the desk, and Aaron wipes his eyes before taking a breath and standing and turning with the rest of the team.

“Yes?” It’s Prentiss who replies.

“We’ve moved her to a room; you can see her now,” and with that, the nurse beckons for them to follow her through the set of double-doors that lead further into the hospital. Coming to a stop, the nurse turns and fixes Hotch with a look. “I’ll warn you now, she looks worse off than she actually is, so don’t be put off by her appearance. She shouldn’t move too much because there’s a risk she’ll rip her stitches, but other than that, she’ll be okay,” and with a nod, she opens the door and ushers them inside.

Aaron’s eyes rush to take in your appearance—butterfly bandages across your nose, a few on your cheekbones and forehead, bandages up both arms, and he’s sure there’s more hidden from view. For a moment, he’s taken back to the last time he saw you laying this still. Crumpled on the floor, bloody and unmoving, Robertson with a knife crouched over you, going to kill you—

Prentiss pushes past him, breaking his train of thought, as she moves to your side and gives a low whistle before gingerly taking your hand. Aaron walks to your other side, bending down to place a kiss on the top of your head, and the rest of the team surround your bed, everyone gazing down at your sleeping form.

---

The first thing you notice is the pain in your head, followed by pain that slowly pulses through your whole body, and for a moment, you remember. Robertson, the knife, slicing, slashing, taunting, yelling, don’t scream can’t scream—

But then you feel it. The familiar pressure of Aaron kissing your head and it clears your head a bit. Not with Robertson, not with Robertson, I’m not with that fucker.

“Fuck,” you groan, mind still hazy, pain more intense, as you return to consciousness. “Wh’re am I?” you slur out next, as you blink away the tiredness in your eyes and try not to squint at the fluorescents or the shadows that are sharpening into your team.

Looking to your right, you lock eyes with Aaron, who pushes hair off of your face before smiling sweetly at you and you try to smile back.

“Hi, Love,” you say, voice low and rough. He leans down and kisses your forehead this time, before gently holding your hand.

Realizing you aren’t alone, you look around at the rest of the team, squeezing Emily’s hand in yours.

“You killed ‘im?” you ask, searching her face. She nods. “Good,” you sigh. “He was such an asshole.”

With that, Derek laughs, followed by Rossi. Emily’s shoulders drop as she lets out a chuckle, Spencer smiles, and JJ rolls her eyes with a fond grin. Almost the whole team.

As if summoned by the power of thought, Derek’s phone rings and he answers the call, Garcia’s voice coming through loud and clear on speakerphone.

“Y/N! My poor, poor, goddess divine how are you?” she questions. You clear your throat and attempt to speak, but before you can say anything Morgan is passing the phone to Aaron, who holds it closer to your face. You shoot him a grateful smile before responding.

“I’m fine, Pen. Just some cuts and scrapes,” you joke.

“That’s a lie, Y/L/N and we all know it. Don’t make me ask you again!” she chastises and you roll your eyes, holding back a wince as pain twinges through your side.

“I’ll be okay, Penelope,” you say softly. Another jolt of pain, this time in your arm, almost makes you whimper, but you bite your lip instead. An action which does not go unnoticed in a room full of profilers.

“It’s nice to see you awake, Y/N,” JJ says lightly before shooting a glance at Aaron and then looking at the rest of the team. “But we should get back to the hotel.”

“Bye my lovelies! I’m happy you’re okay, Y/N. Get home safe, please! Garcia out,” and Derek puts his phone away before smiling at you. Reid give you a small wave and Rossi claps a hand on Aaron’s shoulder before they all turn to exit.

With one last squeeze to your hand, Emily lets go and follows the rest of the team, save Aaron, out the door with the promise that they’ll return later.

When everyone is out and the door shuts behind them, you finally let out a pained breath and scrunch your eyes shut with a groan. You feel Aaron smooth a hand over your hair and you try to control your breathing, but it’s hard when your entire body hurts. Slowly, tears make their way down your face and Aaron’s quick to softly brush them away. Turning to look at him, you allow yourself to breakdown in the safety of his presence.

Your breath hitches as the tears fall faster, your head hurts, your chest hurts, everything hurts and you try not to break into a sob, but the tears won’t stop and eventually sobs wrench from your body and you let them. Aaron has tears of his own falling down his face and he holds your hand in both of his, kissing your knuckles, fingertips, palm, whatever he can as he watches you break. He wants to hold you, wrap you in his arms and shield you from the pain but he can’t because your injuries prevent him from doing so and it pains him to see you this way. So he does what he can.

“I love you too, Sweetheart. I didn’t get to say it before you passed out and—” he pauses to take a breath. “I love you so much. So so much.”

“I was so scared—” you gasp through a sob. “Terrified, Aaron. I couldn’t—” you can’t speak through the force of your tears. Aaron shushes you and kisses your cheek, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“I know, Sweetheart. I know, but you were so brave, so brave and I am so proud of you for being so strong and—” he breaks off in his own soft sob. “—and for staying alive. You’re alive.”

Lifting a hand to scrub at your face, you take a few deep breaths, but more tears escape.

“I can’t—” your breath hitches at what exactly Robertson had done to you. “He wanted me to scream so I didn’t, I couldn’t. I knew what he did to the others, and I just thought that—” you take another breath. “I just thought that if I could deny him that, not give in, it would buy you guys time to find me,” you pull Aaron’s hand to your lips, resting them on the back of his hand and closing your eyes to ground yourself.

“And you did,” he replies softly, gently. “When we found you—” he takes his own steadying breath. “When we found you, Robertson was angry, he said…he said he needed to make you scream, and hearing that…I just,” he moves his hand to cup your face, softly moving his thumb over the bandage on your cheekbone. “You astound me, Sweetheart. Everyday,” he finishes in a whisper.

“I love you,” you say just as softly.

“I love you more,” he smiles, and you can’t help but smile back.

You lean forward, then. And he meets halfway, hand disentangling from yours so he can cradle both sides of your face as he sinks into the kiss. One of your own hands finds its place on his cheek and you sigh into his lips. This. This is what kept me alive, you think when he gently tilts your head. I love you I love you I love you. Thank you. With tears slowly drying on both your faces, you and Aaron revel in the comfort of each other. In the words you don’t have to speak, and the touch of the one you love. Through the worry, pain, and fear of the day, this is how it always ends. You and Aaron. Together. Safe. Loved.

691 notes · View notes

gunmetal-ring · 3 years

Text

I'm actually looking forward to next week's episode tbh like I know so many of us are dreading it and are having a lot of anxiety but I have a rly hard time believing that Leah will be introduced independent of the reapers, meaning that she'll likely rip off her mask and dramatically be like "daryl... the group that just killed some of your group... They're My Family"

meaning that Daryl will internally be like, in order

A) omg wait Leah is alive?!

B) wtf?!

C) wait why is she with the bad guys?!

D) wait she called them her family?!

E) she's voluntarily with them?!

F) why?!

G) hang on she's been hunting maggie?!

H) oh shit she's probably still pissed that I bounced

I) she's probably double pissed that I chose Carol- uh, um, I mean Rick/and now Maggie over her, even tho it was only temporarily, but she doesn't know that bc she bounced before I came back

J) oo and she's probably triple pissed that I didn't bother looking for her the way I looked for Rick #BromanceOverRomance (and only decided to stop looking for Rick when Carol asked me to, whoops i mean -)

K) hmm alright how am I gonna survive this one

Then, knowing twd, the end credits will roll, and then the next time we resume that storyline it'll be

L) alright well maybe I'll ask how the hell she's still alive where has she been what happened etc you know, all the awkward run-in-with-the-ex catching up they have to do

M) probably gonna get some snarky remark because hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and then he's gonna be like well you know what I gotta stay alive for this bc how else will I ride off into the sunset with Carol?

N) so he'll say "hey psst secret is that I hate Maggie too, i was trying to kill her too I super swear, let's join together and do it also I love you 5ever Im totally telling the truth I super duper swear for real pinky promise"

O) and internally he'll be like not only will this keep me alive so I can ride off into the subset with Carol but it will also help me to accept the fact that my value as a person does not rest on whether or not I can save people

P) bc as we know, the girl was cuckoo for cocoa puffs back when they met, and has probably only turned cuckoo-ier since she bounced, seeing as how she's on a murderous rampage with a bunch of dudes in creepy Halloween masks

Q) and then he'll realize that She Can't Be Saved And TBH Wasn't All That Great To Begin With, And It Probably Wasn't A Great Idea To Date Her In The First Place Anyway, Especially Since I Was Actually In Love With Someone Else The Whole Time whoops I mean -

R) and then she'll die or fuck off forever somehow and Carol will be like omg Daryl I'm so sorry that your creepy woodswoman long lost love is gone for good, it's probably my fault to some degree, just like your its-not-like-that long lost love is gone for good also because of me

S) and he'll be like um jsyk when I say "It's not like that" I mean "it's not like that" so no I don't love Connie it just sucks that she went AWOL for all the normal reasons, and also have you considered the fact that the thing I loved about leah was that she had Dog and gave me a sense of purpose while I was failing to find rick bc if I can't find him at least maybe I can save her from herself

T) and Carol will be like OK well and Daryl will be like no okay well just LISTEN to me the main reason I didn't love either of them is because I love YOU always have always will

U) then Carol will start crying and he'll gently wipe away her tears and be like BTW I know you love me but I get it if you can't be w me bc of all your trauma and whatnot

V) and Carol will be like yes I love you I've been repressing it for the last six or seven seasons bc i thought you didn't love me but you know what I'm working thru my trauma as best I can

W) and he'll be like oh great so.... this means I can kiss you right

X) and she'll be like um duh lay one on me

Y) they kiss

Z) they ride off into the sunset and star in a spinoff all about middle aged dating in the zombie apocalypse when it's just the two of you out on the road all alone for the rest of your lives the end

#went off the rails a bit there #but ladies #keep the faith #caryl #caryl is endgame #caryl positivity #twd s11 spoilers #twd s11 speculation #twd

43 notes · View notes

retroellie · 4 years

Text

Ellie Williams NSFW alphabet

Summary: Alphabet NSFW with Ellie Williams

A/N: This is not my original idea, so credit for who ever made the NSFW Alphabet lol. I know this has already been done with her but i wanted to do one myself, i also got some inspo from the one that was already done for her so enjoy<3

Warnings: NSFW, sex toys, mentions of mommy kink, knife play and talks about blood/periods

Word count: 2K

A= Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

She’s a big softie after. Afterwards when y’all are out of breath and all sweaty, She will pull up into her arms and give you soft kisses, telling you how good you were. She will always ask if you're okay, it doesn't matter the pace she will just check in.

She doesn’t mind being dirty after, she will just lay there all sweaty with you until you both pass out. But if you really want to get cleaned up she will get a bath ready for the two of you. She will always take care of you after and do whatever you need, just say it and she will do it.

B= Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Her favorite part of her body is her arms, especially the one with the tattoo. She knows you find it so hot but she feels so bad ass with it. It also reminds her of Joel so that’s a plus.

Her favorite part of your body is your thighs and belly. She loves how soft they are. Big, small, flat or round she loves them. She likes running her hands down your thigh just to see you blush and she loves kissing down your belly.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

She likes to make you cum with her fingers, it gives her a high when she knows she did all of that with just her fingers. She has the most angelic orgasm face ever, like you love seeing it. She gets all embarrassed about it cause you're just staring at her like she’s an angel so she tries to cover it up. Your main goal every time is to pleasure her to the point she has no choice but to make that same face.

D= Dirty Secret

She likes blood, she obviously doesn’t want to hurt you but when you're all bloodied up from assignments she can’t handle it. She likes period sex too, like if you on your period or she is on hers. She gets really horny on her period so she’s always on top of you when she’s on it. She doesn’t expect you to agree to period sex but when you do she doesn’t hold back.

E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

She’s not very experienced, she had some past lovers but you were the first one she went all the way with. It takes her a few times to know what she’s doing, she was nervous the first time but now she’s very dominant and knows what to do and how to do it.

F= Favorite Position

She loves bending you over a flat surface and sticking her hand down the front of your pants. She will even snake her hand up your shirt, grabbing at your boobs. She just loves watching you come undone like that, it makes it easier for when your legs shake and you can’t stand. But any position where you're comfortable and feeling the best she can make you is good enough for her.

G= Goofy (Are they serious in the moment or are they humorous?)

She’s so goofy in bed and any other time, she’s serious about getting you off of course but she will pop a few jokes here and there. She’ll joke around about you being needy or the toys you guys decide to use, she’s just a big goofball. When she’s in her dom mode she will be more serious, not making many jokes and focusing on pleasing you.

H= Hair (How groomed are they down there?)

She honestly does not care, like there's bigger things to worry about. She doesn’t expect you to do so either, like she genuinely doesn’t care.

I= Intimacy

She’s not big on romance but she loves intimacy. She always wants to be close to you and she will caress your body no matter the pace. She will hold your hand while her other hand is between your thighs or brush your hair back while you're riding her thigh.

J=Jack off (Masturbation headcannon)

She masturbates when you can’t be there but you’re her go to when she needs to get off. She can’t get herself off like you do so when she’s horny she will walk over to your house or drag you over to hers just so yall can smash. She definitely thinks of you when she masturbates like she can’t get off if she doesn’t.

K= Kinks

She has a mommy kink, like she likes when you call her mommy especially around the farmhouse era. It’s weird the first time but once you say it she will want you to say it more. She finds some kinda power with you saying that and it’s such a turn on for her.

She likes using knives in bed too, she will never actually cut you (unless you want to be) but just holding it up to your neck while she fucks you. You trust her completely too so that just urges her on more, you know she would never intentionally hurt you so you put your entire trust in her.

L= Location (favorite places to do it)

She likes to do it in her own house but she doesn’t mind doing it in public areas. She wants to make sure you guys won’t actually get caught or even get hurt. She likes to keep it in the walls of Jackson but sometimes it goes outside of it, like in the lookouts or one of the houses y’all just cleared. But that’s only when she gets worked up enough. Again she wants you to be safe so she will always triple check the area beforehand.

M= Motivation (What turns them on?)

Everything you do is a turn on but when you look all cute and needy, it just makes her weak. When you dance around in only her big shirts or when you look all small and cuddly in her bed, you being all innocent just does something to her. You being domestic is also such a turn on, she loves just coming up behind you and kissing your neck, maybe running her hand up your shirt.

N= NO (something they wouldn’t do/ turn offs)

She’s into experimenting but she will not do anything with bodily fluids, like blood she can handle but like other than that she can’t. Spitting, peeing ect. is a big no for her. She doesn’t like degradation either especially when it’s used towards her. She doesn’t mind using degrading names towards you, only if you like it, but making you feel small and putting you down just doesn't feel right to her. She would much rather boost you up instead of putting you down, and honestly she wouldn’t know how to without being too mean about it. You using degrading words towards her like even names effects her self-esteem so you just don’t do it towards her.

O= Oral (Giving or receiving, skill ect.)

She loves to give but receiving is also nice. She loves to lead you when you go down on her, pulling at your hair and making you go deeper and faster. She’s again not very skilled but she has grown to be able to pleasure you and only you. The first couple times she needed you to tell her what to do but now she’s a pro and never fails to make you come undone on her tongue.

P= Pace (Are they fast or rough? Slow and sensual?)

She’s very rough but she’s super slow when during foreplay, she’ll tease you and make you want it before unloading it all on you at once. When she’s mad or jealous she’s only fast and rough, she’ll fuck you roughly for hours. If you are in a mood or just wanting to take it slow she will, she’s not very good at it but she’ll try for you.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies)

She loves them, they are very convenient especially when y’all are in a hurry .They are useful when you guys need to get off quickly in public or on assignments, desperately fucking each other before having to go out into the dance again. She would much rather pleasure you on her own time, she loves to draw it out but when she needs you, she needs you.

R= Risk (Are they okay experimenting? Do they take risks?)

She takes risks but to a certain extent. If it is too risky like you could die or get hurt, then no but if it’s something that won’t get you hurt then she’s all for it. She loves the adrenaline of risky things, it adds on to the pleasure. For so long risks were always deadly and could end up with her getting hurt so it’s nice for risks to just be the right amount of risk. She’s all for experimenting in bed too, it keeps her on her toes and it’s exciting

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

3-4 rounds is the most she can do, she would be okay with 1 drawn out round she would actually prefer it. The build up to the climax is her favorite part so one round of just the build up and then the release, it’s heaven. She likes short and fast rounds too, they help her get her frustration out but they're a little bit less pleasurable. She can last a while if she needs to but if you press the right buttons and hit the right places she comes undone fast.

T= Toys (Do they have toys and who do they use them on?)

She definitely has toys. Her hands and mouth are good but she likes to mix it up a bit sometimes. Nothing crazy though, Strap-on, vibrator, even some rope here and there. She’s not the kinkiest person but she loves to pleasure you in any way she can

U= Unfair (How much do they tease?)

She teases you big time. She will run a hand up your thigh when you're talking to Joel or make dirty comments towards you in front of your friends, she’s an asshole and she knows it. It always leads to you dragging her to a private place and desperately trying to get her to touch you, that always leads to more teasing.

V= Volume (How loud are they?)

She can be pretty loud like when you're on top, she can be heard all around town. She’s usually quiet, making soft moans and cursing under her breath here and there. She likes dirty talk, nothing too much though just enough to push you off the edge.

W- Wild Card (Random headcannon)

She sometimes brings home lingerie she found out on assignments, she likes the way your body looks in lace and bows. She will have you model it on for her and just run her fingers over your body, admiring you. If you feel insecure or you feel you don’t look right in it she will tell you how hot you are and follow it up with everything she wants to do with you.

X= X-ray (What’s going on in their pants)

I mean it’s a vagina??? I honestly don’t know what to put here lmao

Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive)

She’s always horny, when you're ready to go she’s ready. She will constantly be touching you in some kind of way because she always wants to jump on you. Of course if you're not in the mood or you put her down when she tries, she respects that and stops.

Z= ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep after?)

She falls asleep pretty quickly afterwards, after she has got you settled in and cleaned up she will pass out immediately. She puts a lot of energy into pleasing you so after she’s exhausted. If you want to clean up she will help you but she’s completely fine with passing out and not cleaning up.

!Credit to Gif owner!

#Ellie Williams #ellie williams x reader #tlou ellie #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us x reader

258 notes · View notes

tommodirection · 4 years

Text

Miss You More

Louis Tomlinson x Singer! Reader

Masterlist

Word Coung: 2.5k

Warnings: swearing, death, cancer, mentions of death

Disclaimer: Miss You More is an actual song that I wrote, and it isn’t published or anything, but it’s one I wrote about the loss of my grandfather, and so I may link it here if I feel like it so you know what the song is and what it’s about, there are just a few words you’d have to change, but anyways!

A/N: Heylo! I’m going to be honest with you, this is not my favorite thing I’ve ever written, and it’s a little corny, and poorly worded, but eh. It’s one am, I’m going to sleep after this! Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy! Thank you, and have a nice day!

——————

Ever since you were a child, you knew you wanted to sing.

It all started with your mum. When you were little, she’d always sing to you, every night before you went to bed.

Soon enough, you began singing back to her, and she loved every second of it.

You sang together every chance you got, singing in the car, in the house, at parties, even when you walked the dog together through your neighborhood.

She had encouraged you to make a YouTube channel for your music, knowing you’d make it big. At first, you were hesitant, not confident enough to post your voice on the internet, but you finally agreed weeks later.

You mostly did covers at first. Of course, your 14-year-old self didn’t know what she was doing. All she knew was that she was doing something she loved.

About a year after making the channel, you began making custom content. You learned to play the guitar and you’d use it almost every second. You took it everywhere. Well, everywhere you knew you’d be able to show off.

The songs were mostly about crushes and school and friends, the main things circling around your life at the time.

But it all changed when you were sixteen.

It was no secret your mother had cancer. She had since you were little, yet she had kept fighting it, succeeding for a few years.

The doctors had said she was getting better, on her way to becoming cured, well, as cured as she could be.

But out of nowhere, it plunged. She was coughing up blood, and could barely stand, needing assistance to go the bathroom. It just kept getting worse.

One of the worst parts of losing your mum was the fact that it was the holiday season, ruining the time of year for your family for years to come.

You remembered her final day alive. She was laying in the hospital bed, lips chapped and all colored drained from her face. Her lips were bloodied as well, reminisce of the blood she had hacked up minutes ago.

Your father and siblings were there beside her. Your father held your little brother, he was four at the time, and your younger sister was standing next to you, she was twelve. Alex didn’t fully understand what was happening, he just knew his mum wasn’t well, and he mostly hid his face in your father’s shoulder.

Morgan, however, understood exactly what was happening, and she was crying beside you. She was trying her best to hold back, maintaining a straight stance and trying to hide her shaking hands. You watched as tears flooded down her face, making small wet patches on the sheets.

You looked at your mum, studying her. She had done so much for all of you, but there was nothing you could do for her as she layed in the bed, motionless, save for her eyes, darting between all of you.

You knew how much singing meant to your mother, and so you did the only thing you knew you could do. You sang.

Her favorite holiday song was Silver Bells, so you started the song, your family soon joining in. Your mother smiled gratefully at all of you.

She joined in towards the chorus, her voice still weak, but just as beautiful as when you first heard it.

Those were your last moments with your mother.

She passed away hours later, the anticipated news crushing your family.

You had all slept together that night, knowing you couldn’t be apart. Alex didn’t know what had happened, and you knew your father couldn’t handle it, so you had stepped in, trying to explain to the boy that his mum was gone, and she wasn’t coming back.

—

After she passed, you had stopped uploading to your channel, getting emotional every time you even tried singing.

But months later, you had decided not to give up. Instead, you chose to move forward. You started writing again.

The song you were writing was about your mother, it seemed fitting. You knew no amount of words could ever sum up your relationship with her, nor your grief, but you tried your best in the song.

You had spent a few months writing the song, not it a rush. You were pouring your heart into this song, and if it was rushed, you knew it’d have no meaning, just some words with a few riffs thrown in.

A few days after your seventeenth birthday, you uploaded the video onto your account, the first video uploaded since your mother had died.

After uploading it, you decided to turn your computer off for the night. You knew how obsessive you got with checking your feedback, you normally refreshed the page until your fingers were sore.

Instead, you walked into the kitchen, guitar forgotten. You hadn’t shared the song with your family yet, and you knew you needed to do acapella, it was much more fitting.

You were scared of how they were going to react, especially your dad and Morgan.

Immediately after finishing the song, Morgan tackled you in a hug, burying her head in your shoulder, “Thank you,” she mumbled and you pelt tears pricking your eyes.

Your dad stood, his hand over his mouth. Alex was sitting at the table, eating his cereal. You waited in silence for a few moments, waiting for your dad to say something, but nothing.

Alex interrupted the silence, “That’s the first time I’ve heard you sing in a while, sissy,” he said, a wide grin. You don’t know where your family would be without Alex. He knew exactly how to light up a whole room, he knew how to make people feel better.

“I know, bud,” you smiled and he gave you a toothy grin, turning back to his cereal.

You dad finally let out a small, choked sob, “I miss her so much,” he said, opening his arms. You quickly collapsed in them. He was the one you wanted approval from the most.

“I do too, Dad,” you whispered.

—

Years later, you found yourself at Triple Strings Record Label.

A man sat in front of you, shuffling through some papers at his desk. He sighed loudly, and shoved the papers aside, giving you his full attention, “So, miss L/N, we’ve heard some of your work, and were quiet big fans,” he said, folding his hands in front of him.

“Thank you,” you smiled nervously, and he glanced at the clock.

“Well, my name is Bryan, Bryan Detreon. I’m an agent here for all the upcoming stars in the music industry, although I can’t take credit for finding you, that goes to the creator of the label himself,” he chuckled and you froze.

“Wait, the owner as in, like, Louis Tomlinson?” You asked, suddenly sitting up in your chair.

Of course you knew who Louis Tomlinson was. You were a year younger than him, grew up with him on the screen and on the radio.

He let out a small laugh, “Yeah, as in Louis Tomlinson, he found you personally and requested you be brought in. He’s offering you a contract, I’ve emailed it to you, but I’d like to go over it now, just to point out some things! Now, he said to take as much time as you needed to decide. You can have a lawyer look over this if you’d like, and just back to us when you have an answer! Although, he’d probably prefer to have it before the beginning of his tour! Oh yeah! He wants you as his one opening act!” He finished, pushing a copy of the document towards you.

You took a second to process what he had said, and when you finally had. You nearly fell out of your chair. “He wants me to open for him?!”

“Yup,” he continued as if it were nothing. “Now, in the first section…” you tuned him out, you’d read it at home.

Louis fucking Tomlinson wanted you to open for him. How were you supposed to say no? Your dream come true, after years of posting on YouTube and going to school to study music, hoping someone would find you, and it had all led to this.

Twenty-six years of your life, all leading up to this moment.

“Any questions?” Bryan asked, locking eyes with your

You quickly shook your head, gathering your stuff and standing up. “Nope, thank you so much for this opportunity, I will definitely look it over and email you as soon as I know! Thank you!” You rambled, and ran out the door, trying to rush home.

“I got fucking signed!” You screamed into the empty household. You had your own place, but you felt the need to run to your family’s home to share the news.

Your dad walked in from the kitchen, Alex trailing behind him. Alex was fourteen now, which now meant he was starting to call horn father out on his bullshit, not that there was much.

“Welcome home to you too,” your Dad teased, and Alex looked up, his face instantly lighting up. He ran and wrapped his arms around you, he was beginning to tower over you.

“I missed you,” he grumbled, trying to hide his face.

You laughed and patted his back, “I missed you too bud.”

“What’s this about being signed?” Morgan strolled into the room, she was still living at home, finishing her last semester of university. She had grown into a beautiful woman, looking almost identical to your mother.

“Right! So, I got a call and email about an interview, and it said to meet at the Sony label here, and to go to the Triple String label office! I get there, and the guy tells me that they’re huge fans and want me to sign a contract with them! Turns out, LOUIS FUCKING TOMLINSON WANTS ME TO OPEN FOR HIM!” You screamed, not caring about the neighbors.

Morgan swooped you into a hug, you hated being the shortest. “Aw, my big sis is going to be a pop star!”

—

Months later, you stood backstage, picking at your sleeve. You glanced behind the curtain and saw hundreds of people standing and an endless chatter.

It was your first show of the tour, you had rehearsed hundreds of times, but that did nothing to settle your nerves.

Louis only had one opening act. You. You were all the crowd got before him, so you had to impress them.

You felt someone grab your waist from behind, as you nearly jumped out of your skin. You heard a small giggle in response, recognizing the voice.

You turned to playfully glare at Louis, your boyfriend of four months. You had bonded during rehearsals, and bonded over your similar life experiences, and soon enough, you had begun dating.

Only a handful of people knew, his family, and the crew on tour with you. You weren’t prepared to tell your family yet.

“What are you lookin at?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you. You rested your head on his chest.

“Just looking at the crowd, it’s huge,” you mumbled and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“It’ll be alright, they’ll love you,” he assured, and you smiled at him, grateful for his company.

“Thank you Lou,” you went to give him a proper kiss, but you were interrupted by the stage manager, telling you it was time for you to get in your position.

You quickly waved Louis goodbye, and ran to your platform under the stage, the one that you’d be rising up on in seconds.

They gave you a countdown, and a crew member handed you a mic.

On one, they hauled you up, your hand already in their places.

You were met with a roar of cheers and applause as you surfaced, singing one of your most popular songs, ‘Don’t Start With Me Now,’ written about an old, toxic, best friend.

It was thrilling, hearing the people singing your lyrics back to you, you were shocked they knew them. Being on stage gave you adrenaline you’d never experienced before, and soon, all your nerves flooded away.

As you finished your song, you heard the crowd erupted into cheers, whistles being scattered throughout the crowd. Monologue time.

“Hey guys!” You greeted. “My name is Y/N L/N, and I have been chosen by the honorable host, Louis Tomlinson, to open the show up for you guys! I won’t be up here for long, just enough time to play a few more songs, but don’t worry, I’ll be back soon enough!” You hinted, the crowd screaming in response.

You played through all of the songs you’d written, well, except for one. You hadn’t played Miss You More yet, there was a surprise to come later on.

You gave a farewell to the audience, and stepped off stage, the hair and make-up people touching you up before you could even regain your footing.

Louis didn’t particularly like breaks, so the second you were off the platform, he was getting on.

You stood by, waiting for your cue.

The stage manager nodded, and you stepped onto the platform, your dress changed into a skirt and a nice blouse, courtesy of the costume department.

“Now, I have a special guest here to be with me on stage tonight. We both lost our mothers, when they were both remarkably young, and both to cancer. We’ve both written songs about it, and we thought we’d make a mash-up for you guys tonight!” He exclaimed, and the crowd's cheers nearly popped your ear.

Your platform began moving up, revealing you to the crowd. The cheers echoed through the stadium, and you smiled, waving at them, taking your place beside Louis.

You were counted in, and your mashup of Two of Us and Miss You More began. It was one of your favorite things you’d ever taken part in creating, having input from both you and Louis, not just some producers telling you what to do. This was all you.

The last chords of the song bellowed throughout the stadium. The audience’s cries and shouts of praise filled the room once again.

You looked over at Louis, who was busy admiring the crowd, his blue eyes lit up, a genuine smile on his face. It was at this moment that you realized something; you were in love with this man.

His eyes finally caught yours, and he gestured to the crowd, who was still burning as bright as before.

You smiled and whispered, “I love you.”

You knew Louis had gotten great and lip readings he had basically mastered it.

He quickly out his mic back on the stand and pulled you into a hug, leaning down to say something into your ear, just loud enough so you could hear, “I love you too.”

—

The next day, Louis was pulled into an interview before you headed to the next location. The questions were pretty simple ones, mostly openers for him to promote the movie, but there was one question at the end that made you both smile.

“What song did you fall in love to?”

You knew the answer.

A/N: Let me know if you wanna be added to my permanent taglist! Just send an ask or a message!

Permanent Taglist: @everything-is-alrightt

#louis tomlinson fanfiction #louis tomilson #louis tomlinson x reader #louis tommo #louis tomlinson #two of us #fanfic #i’m bored #sorry for being depressing #one direction x reader #one direction

71 notes · View notes

zackcollins · 4 years

Text

there goes my life || brock boeser

masterlist

Author’s Note: I needed to get back into the groove of writing, so I came up with this idea. I chose Brock because I’ve been deep in the feels for him lately. This was not beta’d because I’m going through some really stressful gender shit today. I hope there isn’t any mistakes that are too glaringly obvious because I’m not in the right state of mind to sit and scrutinize every little detail to fix anything that’s wrong. If there is anything egregious, let me know and I’ll polish it up for you guys. GIF credit to jakeoettinger!!

Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything, but let me know if you disagree. I’ll add whatever you think needs one.

Word Count: 1.8k+

Title: There Goes My Life by Kenny Chesney

Additional: The reader is feminine this time. I hope that’s alright. I just wanted to mix it up a little bit since variety is the spice of life, ya know? The statement “(Y/L/N)” just means “Your Last Name.” So, just imagine it says whatever your last name is. I’ll just clarify so you know beforehand. I hope all of that is okay and I hope you enjoy this!

Additional 2: I’m gonna tag @matbaerzal in this. She helped me feel better about the stressful gender shit by giving me a lovely Barzy blurb. So, I’m gonna thank her by dedicating this fic to her since Brock is one of her favourite players. Hope you enjoy, Amalie. You’ve earned it.

You rocked back and forth on your feet as you stood outside of the locker room at the Canucks’ practice arena. Brock would be walking out at of it at any moment. Once he did, it would allow you to voice something to him that had been eating away at you for the last few days.

When Brock walked out, Petey and Jake were following behind him. You walked over to them and grabbed Brock’s hand. Brock looked down at your hand and then up at your face. He furrowed his brows and squeezed your hand.

“I guess I’ll have to pass on lunch,” Brock said to Petey and Jake. “(Y/N) looks like she needs me.”

Petey and Jake nodded, smiling sympathetically. They each squeezed your shoulder and wished you well before they walked off talking about where they wanted to go for lunch.

“What’s wrong,” Brock asked as he brushed some stray hair out of your face. “You don’t look so great.”

You sighed and grabbed your stomach, smiling awkwardly at Brock. Brock dropped your hand, staggering backwards into the wall. He raked one of his hands down his face before he looked at you.

“Seriously,” he said, voice not giving away any sort of emotion.

You swallowed the nervous lump that had formed in your throat as you nodded. You felt tense the longer Brock stood there and stared at you blankly. It was driving you crazy not knowing how he felt about this.

“Brock,” you said, cautiously. “Are you mad?”

Brock shook his head. You sighed as you felt some of the tension release from your body.

“I’ve always wanted kids, (Y/N).” Brock stepped forward, reaching out and soothing his thumb along your cheek.

His expression had changed to something softer, something more loving. Both the action and the expression on Brock’s face helped you relax a little bit more. You were starting to feel a lot less stressed about this whole situation.

“I’m just not sure what to do,” Brock continued. “We’re practically kids ourselves.”

You chuckled nervously, grabbing Brock’s hand and squeezing it. Brock smiled weakly and squeezed your hand back.

“We can ask Bo for advice,” you said. “He’s a great dad. He’ll know what to do.”

Brock nodded, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s a great idea.”

You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Brock’s cheek. Brock returned the favour, kissing your forehead as well. You smiled softly, walking towards the exit with Brock.

“Where’s your car,” Brock asked, motioning around the parking lot when you arrived at his car.

“I had one of my friends drop me off,” you said, blushing slightly. “Because I, um... needed a favour from you.”

Brock raised an eyebrow as he leaned against his car, crossing his arms.

“What would that be?”

You swallowed, feeling some nerves bubble in your stomach. You opened your mouth but closed it immediately, swallowing more nerves that had bubbled up. Brock reached over with one of his hands, soothing it along your upper arm. You relaxed a little, leaning into his touch. Brock dropped his hand, giving you a small nod of encouragement as he did. You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times to steady yourself and attempted to get the words out again.

“I wanted you to take me to my ultrasound appointment,” you said, though it came out sounding like one word because you had spoken it in a nervous rush.

Brock stood there, face completely devoid of emotion. You took a step backwards, getting ready to flee back into the arena to see if Bo was still there so he could take you to your appointment. You had about made up your mind to turn around and book it across the parking lot when Brock spoke up.

“You don’t need to run,” he said, voice gentle and firm. “I’ll take you, (Y/N). I’d love to see a sonogram of my baby.”

You relaxed as you walked around the car, opening the passenger’s door and slipping into the seat and closing the door behind you. Brock opened the drover’s door, slipping into the seat and closing the door as soon as he was buckled in. You quickly buckled yourself in before grabbing Brock’s hand and holding it over the centre console. Brock smiled, lifting your hands up and kissing the back of your hand before lowering them again. You smiled softly as Brock pulled out of the parking space and then drove into traffic.

Brock followed your directions perfectly and made it to the doctor’s office with five minutes to spare. You gave him a quick kiss before you registered with the nurse at the front desk. The nurse gave Brock a sideways glance but didn’t say anything to either of you when you handed your form back nor when he led you back to one of the exam rooms.

You only had to wait for a few minutes before the doctor came in. She sat in her chair, grabbing some gloves and putting them on her hands.

“Alright, Ms. (Y/L/N),” she said, looking at you. “Lay down on the table and lift your shirt up.”

Brock kissed your cheek before you walked over to the exam table and laid down on it. You shivered when you lifted your shirt up and felt the cool air from the room make contact with your skin. Brock walked over, standing beside you and grabbing your hand. The doctor smiled, walking over to the other side of the table and turning the ultrasound machine on. She grabbed the bottle of gel from the tray and popped the cap before looking at you again.

“This is gonna be cold,” she said. “Alright?”

When you nodded, the doctor squirted some of the gel onto your stomach. True to her word, the gel was cold; you shivered as it sat in a heap on your stomach. The doctor then grabbed the wand and started moving the gel around. You shivered again because the coldness of the gel had reached more of your stomach.

The doctor pointed at the screen, smiling as she did so.

“Alright, there’s your baby,” she said.

You felt your heartbeat pick up as you glanced from the image on the screen to Brock. Brock was staring at the screen, transfixed by the image. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it. Brock squeezed back, though you were certain that it was a mindless action because he seemed too focused on the ultrasound screen to put much thought into anything else.

“Would you like to know the gender,” the doctor asked. She was still moving the wand around on your stomach; you assumed it was to help get a better image to assess the gender of your baby.

“No,” you said.

“Yes,” Brock said at the same time.

You and Brock looked at each other, blinking a couple of times in surprise. The doctor chuckled as she continued to move the wand around on your stomach.

“Indecisive, are we,” she asked, moving the wand higher as did. “That’s fine. Most coupl--.”

The doctor stopped talking, which drew both yours and Brock’s attention towards her. You looked at her with concern, while Brock appeared confused. Brock had one hand on your shoulder and was holding your hand with the other, gently moving his thumb across your wrist. That was keeping some of your nerves at bay but you still felt anxious about this.

“Is everything alright,” you asked, voice full of concern.

All the doctor did was point to the screen. When you looked at it, you saw three circles displayed there. Your eyes grew wide as you glanced from the screen to the doctor. The doctor had a soft smile on her face as she pressed a button on the machine’s keypad. It took a moment but she handed you a sonogram image.

“I thought you might want that,” she said, turning the machine off and grabbing some paper towels.

She wiped the wand and your stomach, instructing you to lower your shirt when she was done. She took her gloves and threw them away before focusing her attention back to you and Brock.

You sat up on the table, handing Brock the sonogram picture as you did. You motioned your finger around the three circles, smiling nervously. Brock looked at the sonogram, then at you, then at the sonogram, and then at you. A brief look of panic washed across his face before it softened into something of realization.

“What are you thinking,” you asked, soothing your thumb along Brock’s cheek.

Brock kissed you on the forehead. When he pulled back, he had a giant smile on his face. You tilted your head in confusion, raising an eyebrow in the process.

“We’re gonna have a triple-threat forward line,” Brock said, kissing your lips this time. “Team USA won’t know what hit them.”

You blinked as you looked at Brock.

“You’d let the kids play for Team Canada,” you said, slowly, trying to process what Brock had said.

Brock kissed your forehead again, grabbing your hand and squeezing it.

“Of course, sweetheart. You’re Canadian and the kids are probably gonna be born in Vancouver. It seems unfair to make them play for the US since you’re the one giving birth to them.”

“Will you marry me,” you blurted.

You would admit that your brain short circuited when you said that. It was a knee-jerk reaction to what Brock had said, something that was instinctual.

Glancing at Brock, you saw that he looked like a deer-in-the-headlights. You waved your hand in front of his face; that seemed to snap him out of his trance because he shook his head and drew his attention towards you.

“Yeah,” Brock said, distantly. “Yeah, fuck yeah.”

The doctor cleared her throat. You both looked at her and noticed a pointed look on her face. You looked at Brock and noticed that he was pink in the cheeks and had ducked his face away from the doctor’s gaze.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I get it,” she said. “You’re excited. Just try not to swear.”

Brock nodded, looking at the doctor sympathetically.

You unclasped your necklace, instructing Brock to turn around. Brock looked confused but he did as instructed. Once the necklace was clasped around Brock’s neck, he turned to face you again.

“That’s your engagement jewellery,” you said, voice soft.

Brock’s facial expression shifted to something soft as he leaned forward and kissed you. You kissed him back, trying to be mindful of the fact that the doctor was right there. Brock seemed mindful of that fact as well because he kept the kiss short, sweet, and meaningful. You pressed a soft kiss to Brock’s cheek when you pulled back, brushing some hair from his face.

“I love you, Brock,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest.

Brock pressed a soft kiss to your hair, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing gently.

“I love you, too, (Y/N).”

177 notes · View notes

elizabethemerald · 3 years

Text

Jim is Honest; Chap 7

Barbara watched Jim anxiously pace around the kitchen, putting the last of the dishes away. The meal he had just made her was beyond anything she’s had recently. Jim had really pulled out all of the stops. Now she was watching him fiddle in the kitchen.

“Hey mom I wanted you to have this.” He said. She arched an eyebrow, then her heart dropped as she saw the sealed letter in his hand.

The grandiose meal. A letter addressed with just her name. Jim’s anxiety throughout the night. This was someone preparing to say goodbye. If she didn’t know better she would say the letter could contain a sucide note.

“Jim what is this about?” Barbara forced herself not to snap at him. She ignored the letter as her own fear drowned anything else. When he didn’t respond right away she tried again. “Jim, please, talk to me. Remember? We can talk about anything together?”

Jim sighed and put the letter down on the counter. She could see his grief echoing in every line of his being.

“I have to fight Draal tonight. I think he is going to kill me.”

Barbara grabbed her son’s shoulders pulling him into a tight hug. Her boy. Her boy was on the edge of a break down. She held him as tightly as she could, squeezing him against her, surprised that she could still rest her chin on the top of his head. He still had so much growing left to do. So much of his life left to live. She stepped back to look at him, he had no tears in his eyes, but she could see his grief nonetheless.

“Let’s run, Jim. I can quit my job and we can leave Arcadia tonight. You won’t have to fight this Draal. The trolls wouldn’t be able to find us. If you pack you bags quickly we can be across state lines in only a few hours.”

“I can’t leave mom!” Jim’s voice cracked as he said it. “I’m the Trollhunter. I have to fight.”

“I don’t care about that stupid amulet!” Barbara’s voice rose. “You are fifteen years old! I will not sit by and have you get beaten to death! We will leave! Tonight!”

“What about everyone else?” His words made her pause long enough for him to gather his thoughts. “What about Toby? Or Claire? What about their families? What about everyone at school?”

Barbara felt frozen. The grief-stricken boy who had tried to hand her a letter was gone. Before her stood the Trollhunter. A fighter and a warrior.

“We saw Ms. Nomura working on the Killahead Bridge. If they open that… Gunmar will kill everyone in Arcadia. If we run… if I don’t fight Draal and win then who will keep them from opening the bridge? We have to stop them. I have to stop them.”

She hated it. She hated every word. And she hated the most that she couldn’t think of an argument. She had only believed in the trolls because of the trust she had in her son, the only proof she needed was the injuries he sustained from fighting them. No other human would believe they even existed, much less work to stop the release of a tyrant.

And the trolls were even worse. If what Jim had told her was true, the only trolls who even knew about the bridge were Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, neither of whom were particularly popular down in Trollmarket. And if Jim ran there was no way Draal would actually take the time to look for the bridge, instead she bet he would spend all his time trying to hunt down her son. All that without the complexity of the changelings and where their loyalties lay.

Jim stood staring at her. She realized she had been silent for too long. She took a deep breath, straightening her hair and Jim’s clothing. Then she nodded.

“Very well. If you have to fight him, then fight him. I’ll be here waiting for you when you’ve beat him.”

She wanted to say more. She wanted to shout and scream and argue. He was her son, he shouldn’t have to fight some troll to the death. All she could do was wait.

He gave her another tight hug, then left, running to Toby’s house across the street. Barbara felt sick to her stomach as he ran. She stood there in the living room watching the far house until she saw the two boys leave for Trollmarket.

Barbara waited a few minutes before sending a text to Toby.

[Toby, I need you to call me as soon as the fight’s over.]

[Whatever the result. I need you to call me.]

His response took some time. She felt like he was trying to come up with some lighthearted joke to make but like herself was struggling to come up with any light in their current tunnel. In the end his response was a single word.

[Understood]

As soon as she received his text Barbara got to work. Whatever happened she wanted to be ready. She cleared the dining room table and put a clean sheet on top of it. She carefully arranged her medical supplies on the counter, including all the tools and meds she had stolen from work for the past week. She set up her living room as a field hospital. Whatever shape Jim returned in, she would be ready to try and save his life.

When she was done with that she opened and read the letter he had left. It wasn’t as vague as it might have been had she not known about trolls. It was filled end to end with Jim’s love, about how he didn’t want to leave her. She set it next to her tools and ran her fingers across the paper every time she triple checked that everything was set up accurately.

She was almost at the point of tearing her hair out when her phone started ringing. She practically dove for it, her fingers shaking so badly she could barely answer Toby’s call. When she could finally get her fumbling fingers to hit the green phone she was so scared she almost didn’t put the phone to her ear.

“He did it! He did it!” Toby cheered, his voice still heavy with anxiety and now excitement. “Jim won. He didn’t even have to kill Draal to win. Now we’re going to go get tacos!”

Barbara only barely caught the last part of his statement, as her own relief swamped her senses.

“Tobias Domzalski! You will not go and get tacos. You will bring my son home to me so I can make sure he does not have any internal bleeding or a concussion, and then I will order tacos to be delivered.” She tried to keep the harsh tones out of her voice, but right now she needed to see her son, to see with her own eyes that he was safe and ok.

“Of course Dr. L!” She could practically hear his salute.

She made one last catalogue of her hastily assembled clinic. There were some improvements she could make. She made note of each thing she could think of. Now that she wasn’t terrified that her son would die and she would never see him again, she spent some time making sure that she would have a perfect area for him to recover at.

A few minutes later Toby helped Jim limp into the living room. He raised his eyebrows at the changes she had made, but it seemed his energy to question it was gone. She helped him lay down on the kitchen table and set to work. She gave Toby her credit card to order tacos delivered.

Jim may have won, but she could tell it had gotten much closer than either of the boys were currently saying. She guessed that Jim was still in shock from the beating and Toby was trying to recover from almost being forced to watch his best friend die. Still he was alive. And she was going to make sure he stayed that way.

There was little enough she could do for the significant amount of bruising on his face and chest other than ice it, but she could clean and bandage the numerous cuts from his rough treatment in the arena. He also had a bad sprain that seemed to be the cause of his earlier limping, that she carefully wrapped.

By the time she was done, tacos had arrived and Toby was already eating. She helped Jim to the couch so he could eat as well. While the two boys talked and laughed, the high of victory now crashing Barbara cleaned up her field hospital. She kept her tools and supplies near to hand and threw the sheet into the wash immediately. She was going to keep her house ready to go at a moment’s notice to keep Jim in the fight.

When she finally had the dining room reset to her liking she collapsed on the couch next to the boys and grabbed a taco herself. Toby was already fast asleep on the other couch. Jim looked like he was fading fast, the exhaustion from the fight dragging him to sleep. Before he fell completely asleep Barbara had something important to tell him.

“Jim. I love you. I need you to know, I love you so much.”

“I love you too mom. I’m glad I’m able to tell you that again.”

“Me too, kiddo. Me too.”

#jim lake junior #Barbara Lake #jim is honest #tales of arcadia #writing emerald

10 notes · View notes

acciomalfoy · 4 years

Text

Midnight Rendezvous (Ron Weasley x Reader)

A/n: i wrote this three years ago but im lazy hehe

"Pst! Ron!" I whispered at him and poked his arm. He had fallen asleep yet again while Professor Binns drones on about complete rubbish.

Ron blinked wearily and cautiously opened his eyes. He gave me a sleepy smile when he saw me and it was all I could do not to fan girl right there.

"Hey y/n. What's up now?" He whispered back. He trained his excitable eyes on me and I grinned.

"Feel like sneaking out tonight?" I whisper, glancing at the professor to make sure he hadn't noticed our conversation.

"Hermione and Harry going out again then?" He asked, looking lovesick, then scrunching up his face and gagging. I nod.

"Mmhmm. I was thinking the kitchens." Ron nods quickly. It's become a habit of ours to sneak out to the kitchens at least once a week, usually on Harry and Hermiones 'date night'. It's great fun, and Harry lets us borrow his invisibility cloak for it.

"You've got me there. Eleven?" I give him a thumbs up and place my head back on the table. Time for a quick nap.

"Y/n m/n l/n! Get up this instant! I cannot believe you've fallen asleep in the History of Magic again! It's the most fascinating subject, honestly." Hermione shakes my arm and scolds me. I jerk up and wince at the furious glare on her face.

"Sorry Herm. I'd say it won't happen again but that'd be a lie, wouldn't it?" Ron sniggers beside me and Hermione looks livid at his reaction.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! Don't think I won't tell Molly how much you're slacking in your school work!" Ron pales instantly and I snicker. Harry places an arm on Hermiones shoulder and she melts into his touch, instantly becoming calmer.

"Mione. You can't be responsible for everyone. Let someone else be the teacher." His words soothe her and she frowns at herself.

"Sorry Harry." Hermione smiles at her boyfriend who positively beams back.

"I would say sorry to you two but that'd be a lie wouldn't it?" Hermione imitates my voice and smirks.

"Anyways, we'd best get off to the library. We've got to write the essay on wolfsbane for potions, palm reading for divination and not to mention the properties of gillyweed for herbology!" Hermione starts panicking.

"Oh Merlin! Herbology is due in two weeks! Two weeks! Can you believe it? How on earth did I leave it this late?" Harry chuckles and puts an arm around Hermiones waist.

Ron and I share a look.

"Don't worry. We'll all attempt to help you, though you're so brilliant I doubt you'll need our help." He smiles fondly and the tension drains from the fluffy haired girl.

"Okay right. We'd best prioritise and do it now. Come on you two." Harry takes hold of Hermiones hand and they stroll to the library, Ron and I muttering obscenities behind the pair.

"The bloody hell do they think they're doing? We look like sodding slugs compared to their pda. You'd think we were incapable of love." Ron mutters. I let out a laugh.

"Next time they can shove it up their arses. No way am I doing homework two weeks early again!" I exclaim. Ron nods.

"Besides, homework is meant to be done the night before. Maybe if they got it through their thick heads.." We share a laugh and follow the couple into the library.

"Right. Everyone, save yourself. I've got extra credit to as well and there is no way I'm wasting my time on the pair of you who don't listen or take notes in class." Hermione announces. Ron and I share a panicked glance. I switch my gaze at Harry, who winks at me and slides his notes across the table.

"Harry! You're a lifesaver. Thank Merlin!" I hurry about finishing the three essays, and stretch my aching hands by the end of it.

"Bloody hell. I think I've broken my hand." Ron complains as he sets his quill down. I let out a snort and Hermione shoots me a look.

"Tempus." With a wave of my wand I discover that we've almost missed dinner.

"No! Not dinner!" Ron gasps. Harry looks up.

"Dinner? You've got me convinced. Come on Herm, I'll get the house elves to prepare us dinner hey?" Hermione beams and nods.

Ron and I trudge to the Great Hall with the pair following us.

"Bloody hell. She tried to keep us from dinner!" Ron accuses. I nod seriously.

"She should go straight to Azkaban for that one." I claim. Ron's eyes light up once we enter the Great Hall and he goes straight for the food. I let out a laugh and follow.

After dinner, Ron and I enter Gryffindor Towers and I sprawl myself across the couch.

"Right. I'll go get the cloak." Ron disappears up the stairs to the boys dormitory. I make a mental plan. In order to avoid Peeves, who tends to wait in corridor 3, which is right by the kitchens, we'll have to go through corridor 7, which is the longer route, though we'll have to be careful of the portraits-

I let out a scream as someone grabs my waist from behind. Ron bursts out laughing and I snatch the invisibility cloak off him.

"Ronald Weasley! Don't make me leave you behind!" Ron instantly starts protesting.

"Come on y/n! You know I love y-" Ron shuts off. I freeze.

"Anyway, we should go. I heard Peeves is raiding the potions cabinet tonight so we should be able to go through corridor 3." Ron says hurriedly. I nod, not trusting myself to speak just yet.

Ron and I huddle underneath the safety of the invisibility cloak and quietly patter out of the stilled common room. The fat lady is snoring softly so it's rather easy to slip by.

We slowly make our way to the kitchen and Ron reaches up and tickles the giggling pear, who lets us in.

"That was rather disappointing." I whisper.

"My thoughts exactly. It's much more fun when there's people about." Ron agrees.

"Oh well. There's always the way back. Right now, ice cream is my priority." Ron's eyes light up.

"Wonder if there's any triple fudge brownies left from dinner?" We both make our way into the kitchens. Ron targets the fridge and I go straight to the array of freezers. I let out a content sigh when I see the various tubs of chocolate icecream. There's a stack of utensils by the freezers, and I grab a large spoon.

I glance over at Ron to see his eyes gleaming as he spots the brownies. At the worst possible moment, I hear the unmistakable sound of Peeves. It sounds like he's right by the kitchen entrance, and almost drop the spoon. I stifle a shriek and know from the look on Rons face, he's realised as well.

"Save yourself!" I whisper frantically. Ron launches himself over several large bags of rolls and comes barrelling over towards me, cloak in hand. He wraps it tightly around us, and I feel his warmth radiating. I'm grateful it's dark so my increasing blush remains concealed.

It can't be more than a minute but it feels like I'm pressed against Ron for hours. The lack of space forces me to be pressed into his chest.

"Y/n?" Ron whispers.

"Not to be mistaken for Mrs Norris, of course.” I whisper. Ron growls and lifts my chin up slowly, then quickly presses his lips against mine.

#ron weasley #ron weasley x reader

50 notes · View notes

sinceileftyoublog · 3 years

Text

Pitchfork Music Festival 2021 Preview: 15 Can’t-miss Acts

black midi; Photo by YIS KID

BY JORDAN MAINZER

While yours truly won’t be attending Pitchfork Music Festival this year, SILY contributor Daniel Palella will be covering the actual fest. If I was attending, though, these would be the acts I’d make sure to see. 5 from each day, no overlaps, so you could conceivably see everyone listed.

FRIDAY

Armand Hammer, 1:00 PM, Green Stage

Earlier this year, New York hip hop duo Armand Hammer released their 5th album Haram (BackwoodzStudioz) in collaboration with on-fire producer The Alchemist. It was the duo’s (ELUCID and Billy Woods) first time working with a singular producer on a record (though Earl Sweatshirt produced a track), and likewise, The Alchemist actually tailored his beats towards the two MCs. Haram is the exact kind of hip hop that succeeds early in the day at a festival, verbose and complex rhymes over languid, cloudy, sample-heavy beats, when attendees are more likely to want to sit and listen than dance. And you’re going to want to listen to Armand Hammer, whose MCs’ experiential words frame the eerie hues of the production. “Dreams is dangerous, linger like angel dust,” Woods raps on opener “Sir Benni Miles”, never looking back as he and Elucid’s stream-of-consciousness rhymes cover everything from colonization to Black bodily autonomy and the dangers of satisfaction disguised as optimism. (“We let BLM be the new FUBU,” raps Quelle Chris on “Chicharrones”; “Iridescent blackness / Is this performative or praxis?” ponders Woods on “Black Sunlight”.) There are moments of levity on Haram, like KAYANA’s vocal turn on “Black Sunlight” and the “what the hell sound is this?” type sampling that dominates warped, looped tracks like “Peppertree” and “Indian Summer”, built around sounds of horns and twirling flute lines. For the most part, Haram is an album of empathetic realism. “Hurt people hurt people,” raps Elucid on “Falling Out of the Sky”, a stunning encapsulation of Armand Hammer’s world where humanism exists side-by-side with traumatic death and feelings of revenge.

You can also catch Armand Hammer doing a live set on the Vans Channel 66 livestream at 12 PM on Saturday.

Dogleg, 1:45 PM, Red Stage

It feels like we’ve been waiting years to see this set, and actually, we have! The four-piece punk band from Michigan was supposed to play last year’s cancelled fest in support of their searing debut Melee (Triple Crown), and a year-plus of pent up energy is sure to make songs like “Bueno”, “Fox”, and “Kawasaki Backflip” all the more raging. Remember: This is a band whose reputation was solidified live before they were signed to Triple Crown and released their breakout album. Seeing them is the closest thing to a no-brainer that this year’s lineup offers.

Revisit our interview with Dogleg from last year, and catch them at an aftershow on Saturday at Subterranean with fellow Pitchfork performer Oso Oso and Retirement Party.

Hop Along, 3:20 PM, Red Stage

Though lead singer Frances Quinlan released a very good solo album last year, it’s been three years since their incredible band Hop Along dropped an album and two years since they’ve toured. 2018′s Bark Your Head Off, Dog (Saddle Creek), one of our favorite albums of that year, should comprise the majority of their setlist, but maybe they have some new songs?

Catch them at an aftershow on Saturday at Metro with Varsity and Slow Mass.

black midi, 4:15 PM, Green Stage

The band who had the finest debut of 2019 and gave the best set of that year at Pitchfork is back. Cavalcade (Rough Trade) is black midi’s sophomore album, methodical in its approach in contrast with the improvisational absurdism of Schlagenheim. Stop-start, violin-laden lead single and album opener “John L”, a song about a cult leader whose members turn on him, is as good a summary as ever of the dark, funky eclecticism of black midi, who on Cavalcade saw band members leave and new ones enter, their ever shapeshifting sound the only consistent thing about them. A song like the jazzy “Diamond Stuff” is likely impossible to replicate live--its credits list everything from 19th century instruments to household kitchen items used for percussion--but is key to experiencing their instrumental adventurousness. On two-and-a-half-minute barn burner “Hogwash and Balderdash,” they for the first time fully lean into their fried Primus influences, telling a tale of two escaped prisoners, “two chickens from the pen.” At the same time, this band is still black midi, with moments that call back to Schlagenheim, the churning, metallic power chords via jittery, slapping funk of “Chondromalacia Patella” representative of their quintessential tempo changes. And as on songs like Schlagenheim’s “Western”, black midi find room for beauty here, too, empathizing with the pains of Marlene Dietrich on a bossa nova tune named after her, Geordie Greep’s unmistakable warble cooing sorrowful lines like, “Fills the hall tight / And pulls at our hearts / And puts in her place / The girl she once was.” Expect to hear plenty from Cavalcade but also some new songs; after all, this is a band that road tests and experiments with material before recording it.

Catch them doing a 2 PM DJ set on Vans Channel 66 on Saturday and at an aftershow on Monday at Sleeping Village.

Yaeji, 7:45 PM, Blue Stage

What We Drew (XL), the debut mixtape from Brooklyn-based DJ Yaeji, was one of many dance records that came out after lockdown that we all wished we could experience in a crowd as opposed to at home alone. Now's our chance to bask in all of its glory under a setting sun. Maybe she’ll spin her masterful remix of Dua Lipa’s “Don’t Start Now” from the Club Future Nostalgia remix album, or her 2021 single “PAC-TIVE”, her and DiAN’s collaboration with Pac-Man company Namco.

Angel Olsen; Photo by Dana Trippe

SATURDAY

Bartees Strange, 1:45 PM, Red Stage

One of our favorite albums of last year was Live Forever (Memory Music), the debut from singer-songwriter and The National fanatic Bartees Strange, one that contributor Lauren Lederman called “a declaration of an artist’s arrival.” He’s certainly past arrived when you take into account his busy 2021, releasing a new song with Lorenzo Wolff and offering his remix services to a number of artists, including illuminati hotties and fellow Pitchfork performer (and tour mate) Phoebe Bridgers. Expect to hear lots of Live Forever during his Pitchfork set, one of many sets at the fest featuring exciting young guitar-based (!) bands.

Catch him at a free (!!) aftershow on Monday at Empty Bottle with Ganser.

Faye Webster, 4:00 PM, Blue Stage

Since we previewed Faye Webster’s Noonchorus livestream in October, she’s released the long-awaited follow-up to Atlanta Millionaires Club, the cheekily titled I Know I’m Funny haha (Secretly Canadian). At that time, she had dropped “Better Distractions”, “In A Good Way”, and “Both All The Time”, and the rest of the album more than follows the promise of these three dreamy country, folk rock, and R&B-inspired tunes. Webster continues to be a master of tone and mood, lovelorn on “Sometimes”, sarcastic on the title track, and head-in-the-clouds on “A Dream with a Baseball Player”. All the while, she and her backing band provide stellar, languorous instrumentation, keys and slide guitar on the bossa nova “Kind Of”, her overdriven guitar sludge on “Cheers”, cinematic strings on the melancholic “A Stranger”, stark acoustic guitar on heartbreaking closer “Half of Me”. And the ultimate irony of Webster’s whip-smart lyricism is that a line like, “And today I get upset over this song that I heard / And I guess was just upset because why didn't I think of it first,” is that I can guarantee a million songwriters feel the same way about her music, timely in context and timeless in sound and feeling.

Catch her at an aftershow on Saturday at Sleeping Village with Danger Incorporated.

Georgia Anne Muldrow, 5:15 PM, Blue Stage

The queen of beats takes the stage during the hottest part of the day, perfect for some sweaty dancing. VWETO III (FORESEEN + Epistrophik Peach Sound), the third album in Muldrow’s beats record series, was put together with “calls to action” in mind, each single leading up to the album’s release to be paired with crowdsourced submissions via Instagram from singers, visual artists, dancers, and turntablists. Moreover, many of the album’s tracks are inspired by very specific eras of Black music, from Boom Bap and G-funk to free jazz, and through it all, Muldrow provides a platform for musical education just as much as funky earworms.

Revisit our interview with Muldrow from earlier this year.

Angel Olsen, 7:25 PM, Red Stage

It’s been a busy past two years for Angel Olsen. She revealed Whole New Mess (Jagjaguwar) in August 2020, stripped down arrangements of many of the songs on 2019′s amazing All Mirrors. In May, she came out with a box set called Song of the Lark and Other Far Memories (Jagjaguwar), which contained both All Mirrors and Whole New Mess and a bonus LP of remixes, covers, alternate takes, and bonus tracks. She shortly and out of nowhere dropped a song of the year candidate in old school country rock high and lonesome Sharon Van Etten duet “Like I Used To”. And just last month, she released Aisles, an 80′s covers EP out on her Jagjaguwar imprint somethingscosmic. She turns Laura Branigan’s disco jam “Gloria” and Men Without Hats’ “Safety Dance” into woozy, echoing, slowed-down beds of synth haze and echoing drum machine. On Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark’s “If You Leave”, her voice occupies different registers between the soft high notes of the bridge and autotuned solemnity of the chorus. Sure, other covers are more recognizable in their tempo and arrangement, like Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell ballad “Eyes Without a Face” and Alphaville’s “Forever Young”, but Aisles is exemplary of Olsen’s ability to not just reinvent herself but classics.

At Pitchfork, I’d bet on a set heavy on All Mirrors and Whole New Mess, but as with the unexpectedness of Aisles, you never know!

St. Vincent, 8:30 PM, Green Stage

Annie Clark again consciously shifts personas and eras with her new St. Vincent album Daddy’s Home (Loma Vista), inspired by 70′s funk rock and guitar-driven psychedelia. While much of the album’s rollout centered around its backstory--Clark’s father’s time in prison for white collar crimes--the album is a thoughtful treatise on honesty and identity, the first St. Vincent album to really stare Clark’s life in the face.

Many of its songs saw their live debut during a Moment House stream, which we previewed last month.

The Weather Station; Photo by Jeff Bierk

SUNDAY

Tomberlin, 1:00 PM, Green Stage

While the LA-via-Louisville singer-songwriter hasn’t yet offered a proper follow-up LP to her 2018 debut At Weddings, she did last year release an EP called Projections (Saddle Creek), which expands upon At Weddings’ shadowy palate. Songs like “Hours” and “Wasted” are comparatively clattering and up-tempo. Yet, all four of the original tracks are increasingly self-reflexive, Tomberlin exploring and redefining herself on her terms, whether singing about love or queerness, all while maintaining her sense of humor. (“When you go you take the sun and all my flowers die / So I wait by the window and write some shit / And hope that you'll reply,” she shrugs over acoustic strums and wincing electric guitars.) The album ends with a stark grey cover of Casiotone for the Painfully Alone’s “Natural Light”; Tomberlin finds a kindred spirit in the maudlin musings of Owen Ashworth.

Get there early on Sunday to hear select tracks from At Weddings and Projections but also likely some new songs.

oso oso, 2:45 PM, Blue Stage

Basking in the Glow (Triple Crown), the third album from Long Beach singer-songwriter Jade Lilitri as Oso Oso, was one of our favorite records of 2019, and we’d relish the opportunity to see them performed to a crowd in the sun. Expect to hear lots of it; hopefully we’re treated to new oso oso material some time soon.

Catch them at an aftershow on Saturday at Subterranean with fellow Pitchfork performer Dogleg and Retirement Party.

The Weather Station, 4:00 PM, Blue Stage

The Toronto band led by singer-songwriter Tamara Lindeman released one of the best albums of the year back in February with Ignorance (Fat Possum), songs inspired by climate change-addled anxiety. While the record is filled with affecting, reflective lines about loss and trying to find happiness in the face of dread, in a live setting, I imagine the instrumentation will be a highlight, from the fluttering tension of “Robber” to the glistening disco of “Parking Lot”.

Revisit our preview of their Pitchfork Instagram performance from earlier this year. Catch them at an aftershow on Friday at Schubas with Ulna.

Danny Brown, 6:15 PM, Green Stage

The Detroit rapper’s last full-length record was the Q-Tip executive produced uknowhatimsayin¿ (Warp), though he’s popped up a few times since then, on remixes, a Brockhampton album, and TV62, a Bruiser Brigade Records compilation from earlier this year. (He’s also claimed in Twitch streams that his new album Quaranta is almost done.) His sets--especially Pitchfork sets--are always high-energy, as he’s got so many classic albums and tracks under his belt at this point, so expect to hear a mix of those.

Erykah Badu, 8:30 PM, Green Stage

What more can I say? This is the headliner Pitchfork has been trying to get for years, responsible for some of the greatest neo soul albums of all time. There’s not much else to say about Erykah Badu other than she’s the number one must-see at the festival.

6 notes · View notes

hollandspiderling · 5 years

Text

Game On

Summary: You and Tom have known each other and bumped into each other here and there at the parties his frat hosts. It’s the first week back and you’ve found yourself at his frat’s party with your friends and you don’t know what to expect once you and Tom separate from your friends.

Pairing: Uni/Frat! Tom x Reader

Warning: drinking, mild swearing, fluff

Word Count: ~4k

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! It’s my first Tom fic I’ve written and wanted to publish. I’m sorry if the summary is a little crappy, I’m trying to get better at it, haha. Tom Holland has recently wrecked my life and I needed someplace to let out all of the emotions I feel for him. Please let me know what you think! It’s a goal of mine to write more so if things go well, then hopefully I can continue sharing more of my work on here. xoxo, Astrid.

*Italics = your thoughts

A sigh escaped your lips as the bass of the music blasted throughout the house. The house you were in was dark and the LED lights were the only source that helped you weave through the crowd of unknown faces. You didn’t know why you were there, but after a good hour of begging from your best friend, she dragged you to the frat party she’s been talking about all week. It was the first week back to university after summer vacation and the excited chatter surrounded you as you made your way back to your best friend. Your eyes landed on her who was surround by a couple of your other friends on the couch in the living room and a string of curses left your lips as you noticed the people who joined your group.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed as she met eyes with you and waved you over.

You smiled at her as you gazed at the handful of boys that intermingled with your friend circle. Brad, the resident playboy, had his arm lazily wrapped around your best friend’s shoulders and you mentally rolled your eyes. Hannah always knew how to get herself in trouble, so it wasn’t a surprise that Brad had found himself by her side. Harrison who was the frat’s vice president sat next to your other friend, Jade, and both were engaged in this heated debate about a show they liked. Your eyes fall onto the president, Tom, who sat on the side and pitched in his two cents here and there with your group. His curls were tucked underneath the black snapback he wore. Before you could stop yourself, your eyes began to unconsciously check him out. The grey V-neck shirt he wore snuggly fit around his torso and complimented his arms as he leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees. His signature black joggers were paired with the latest pair of kicks he bought, and you noticed that he had added small accessories to his outfit. The sterling silver Rolex watch and matte black ring sat on his right hand and you had to mentally block all the dirty thoughts that began to entire your mind. Damn, he looked good. You looked back up, only to have his brown eyes met yours and you mentally cursed at yourself. Fuck, I got caught. A smirk crept onto his lips and nodded his head at you as you tried to play it off, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

“Y/L/N, nice to finally see you join us.” He greeted as he casually took a sip of his beer, a playful glint present in his eyes.

“Holland.” You greeted and nodded back at him.

The two of you knew of each other due to your best friend being a constant guest at his frat’s party. You crossed paths with him multiple times whenever Hannah called you to pick her up or ended up dragging you along so you could get out of your apartment. Being friends wasn’t something the both of you considered to be, but more like close acquaintances who occasionally bonded over the shared love of people watching and roasting anyone who passed by. If the atmosphere called for it, a flirtatious exchange would ensue between the both of you.

“So, what have you guys been up to?” You asked as you eyed the group and took a sip out of your drink.

“Haz here was telling us about a girl he was trying to hook up with but was immediately turned off when he found out that she’s never watched Friends before,” Jade replied and stuck her tongue out at the guy.

Harrison shrugged his shoulders and said, “What can I say? A girl’s gotta have good taste in television in order for me to be attracted to her.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “Haz, I’m not sure if I should agree with you or tell you that what you said is one of the shallowest things I’ve heard.”

Tom nodded in agreement before adding, “She’s right mate, you can’t just base an innocent girl off of her knowledge about a TV show.”

“Fuck off mate, I thought you’d at least be on my side because of your reputation with girls.”

You snickered at Harrison’s comeback and Tom playfully nudged your side. Your eyes met his as you smirked at him and shrugged.

“It’s facts.” You said to Tom.

“I’m not that bad.” He huffed as his eyes traveled to the rest of the group who started to nod in agreement.

“Oh yes you are, Holland. All you want is a simple fling.” You said as you flipped your hair over your shoulder.

“Am I really?” he asked.

Everyone murmured in agreement and you lightly nudged him so he could look at you. Leaning onto your palm, you turned your body towards his and said, “Holland, you are literally seen with a different girl every week.”

He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head to meet your gaze.

“And how do you know that I’m seen with a different girl every week? I thought you didn’t care about my whereabouts?”

Damn it. You could feel your cheeks heat up as everyone began to tease you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Hannah and Jade sharing a certain look and you simply rolled your eyes at Tom. Amongst the three of you girls, the attraction you had towards Tom was pretty evident. It was something you wanted to keep on the down-low because you knew you just weren’t on his radar.

“It’s what I hear from everyone, Holland. Don’t get too ahead of yourself.” You smoothly replied.

He feigned being hurt and put a hand on top of his heart. “Ouch, that kind of hurt darling.”

You laughed and leaned forward so that both of you were at the same eye level. “It just means I have standards, Holland.”

Tom playfully pretended to get the air knocked out of him as Harrison exclaimed, “And Tom just got triple knocked out by Y/N!”

The entire group burst out laughing and you held your hand out towards Tom who stayed laying down on the couch. He took it wordlessly and nodded in thanks before turning his attention back towards the group. Everyone began to talk about the upcoming semester and just thinking about the stress that was going to be thrown at you made you want to take a sip of your drink. You looked down towards your cup and noticed that it was empty. Scrunching up your nose at the fact I was empty, you pushed yourself off of the couch and asked, “Anyone else need a refill? I’m gonna go get myself another drink.”

Everyone else shook their head but Tom was the one that set his beer bottle onto the table and stood up.

“I’ll go with you; I’ve been meaning to get a new one, so I guess now’s a good time.”

Both of you headed towards the kitchen and as you made your way through the crowd, you spent the entire time trying to calm down your racing heart. Once you made it to the kitchen, you made your way towards one of the coolers. Bending down, you opened up one of them and noticed that it was the one filled with beers. Fishing through the icy drinks, you looked behind you and raised an eyebrow. Tom was casually leaning against the island that was in the middle of the kitchen as he shamelessly checked out your butt.

“Hey Holland, eyes up here bud.” You smirked as you motioned for his eyes to meet yours.

He coughed and gave you a lazy smirk. “Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t help myself especially with the outfit you’re wearing tonight.”

You turned away from him as you pretended to look for the beer he preferred. The outfit was not your personal choice, but Jade was the one that wanted to dress you up for that night. You were wearing a red tube top and black high waisted shorts that were a little cheekier than what you would usually prefer. It was accompanied by a black, cropped denim jacket and with Hannah’s support, your friends insisted on this outfit in hopes that you would gain someone’s attention. Smiling to yourself, you mentally thanked the girls since it looked like the outfit was certainly doing its job.

“On to more important things, which one do you want? I don’t think there’s any more of the beer you were drinking earlier.”

“Aw, were you thinking of me?” he teased as he walked over and stood next to you.

You straightened out as he scanned through the options presented before him. A scoff escaped your lips as you took his previous position and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Only in your dreams, I was just trying to be nice.”

He stood back up with a new beer in hand and laughed. “Oh, trust me, you’re in my dreams every night. Your every guy’s dream in this house, love.”

You gave him a look of disbelief and laughed. “I don’t know if I should actually take that as a compliment given you sleep with different girls or say thank you because that means I’m actually decently attractive. Don’t play with me, Tom. I can’t be in your guys’ top ten list.”

Trying to distract yourself, you browsed through the coolers before finding a bottle of vodka. You busied yourself by taking the bottle out and making yourself the mixed drink you always liked so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“I’m not kidding Y/N. You need to give yourself more credit.” Tom replied.

You felt his presence next to you and you glanced the other way while taking a sip out of your drink. It was the start of the cycle that you guys would fall into whenever you appeared at one of his frat parties. The both of you flirted here and there when there was enough alcohol in both of your systems. Time would quickly pass before you know it with your guys’ banter and nothing more would move on from teasing touches and meaningful gazes.

Tilting your head up to look at him, you stared into his brown eyes and searched for what his intentions were. The cheeky smile that attracted you was plastered on his face as he confidently held your gaze. He took a step closer to you and rested his forearm on the island while leaning his weight against it. Tom’s eyes broke away from yours as he looked over the features of your face. You didn’t know what was going through that mind of his and you wanted to know why he was suddenly interested in constantly flirting with you.

“Why are you suddenly interested in me, Thomas?” You asked.

He chuckled and quirked an eyebrow at you. “Are we going by full names now, Y/N”

You shook her head and laughed, “No, but I’m really curious as to why you’re wasting your time on me. You can get any other girl on this campus so why me? What changed your mind?”

Tom shrugged and said, “I can’t help it, I love watching your expression getting all flustered even though you try not to show it.”

You bit your bottom lip as he stared you down and rolled your eyes as you felt your cheeks heat up. I hate how I get flustered so easily... Tom chuckled as he watched your inner battle with yourself and before he could stop himself, he reached out and tucked a stray hand behind your ear. You were snapped out of your daze and looked back at him.

“Tom I’m serious.”

Looking down at your drink, you swirled it around as your thoughts began to go everywhere. He pursed his lips and looked back to where you guys came from only to find out that your group had dispersed from the central living area. He knew that you wouldn’t give in so easily, but Tom didn’t think you’d be this hard to get to you. His reputation was one he wasn’t proud of, but the times that you guys were together were the most memorable times compared to any with the nameless girls he couldn’t remember. Your previous encounter was what made him realize that he had begun to grow feelings for you. The both of you ended up staying awake until sunrise at the summer bash his frat threw before everyone went on summer break. You didn’t feel like going home because Hannah had sent a text that she was bringing a boy to your guys’ shared apartment with Jade. He found you sitting by the bar outside enjoying the time to yourself. Tom decided to join you and that was the first time you guys had a serious and meaningful conversation. There were no awkward pauses and the flow between the both of you was natural. And by the time you left after he watched you drive away safely, Tom realized that he already missed your presence. That summer, he promised to himself that he was going to work hard to make himself the best he could be for you. Now that the odds were playing in his favor, tonight was the night he was going to take the chance to pursue you.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Tom noticed that you two were left by yourselves and he sighed before reaching out to grab your hand. With a questioning look on your face, you let him drag out of the kitchen and towards a more secluded part of the house. He led you into their backyard and towards the alcove that was nestled in a back corner by the pool. Both of you sat down, side by side on the love seat that was there, and you looked at him expectantly as you set your cup down on the ground beside you.

You watched as he pursed his lips, a habit of his that you noticed when he was thinking and waited patiently for him to say something. He played with the beer bottle in his hands and Tom finally looked at you again. The confident aura that he usually exuded towards the people he was around was replaced with a nervous and contemplative one.

“Tom?” You asked softly.

He smiled and let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he looked at you. “You probably wouldn’t believe me, but you’ve got me smitten.”

Once you heard those words you couldn’t believe your ears. Your eyes widened slightly, and you began to deny it.

“I think you’re a little bit drunk, Tom. Sure, we’ve flirted here and there but we all know you wouldn’t go for me. You’re probably just horny and want to get in my pants.”

He mentally winced at your words and he set his beer bottle down before grabbing your hands.

“I’m serious about this, Y/N. I know it might take a while for you to believe me, but you’re like a breath of fresh air for me. It wasn’t until recently that I realized my feelings for you. After the first couple of times we crossed paths last year, I would look forward to seeing you. Whenever I spot Hannah or Jade amongst the crowd of people, I hope to see you near either one of them. Whenever we have our roast sessions after our friends ditched us it always leaves me in a better mood.”

Butterflies began to arise in your stomach as you listened to his words but a part of you didn’t want to give in so quickly. The sincerity in his eyes was genuine as he looked at you and you didn’t know how to react. You were attracted to him with no doubt and you enjoyed his company a lot, especially whenever he found you at parties while Jade was off trying to win beer pong and Hannah was trying to find a new boy toy. He had a great reputation all throughout campus besides his notorious playboy ways, but you knew he was well-grounded.

Tom patiently waited for your response as he admired your beauty. The gentle glow from the pool reflected onto your face and there was a feeling inside that warmed him up. It always happened whenever he was with you and no one else. There was something comforting about the way you presented yourself to others. Tom admired you for the way that you knew what you wanted and didn’t conform to following others. You welcomed others into conversations and got along with anyone who you crossed paths with.

“Tom, it just makes me confused that this is happening all so suddenly. Last week I just saw you with this random girl you picked up at a party and now you’re telling me all these things?”

He nodded to your words and caressed your hands with his thumbs. His gaze was cast down as he tried to figure out what his next move was. You concentrated on the comforting feeling he was giving you as he began to get lost in his thoughts. It was hard for you because this was all that you wanted, but because of how you’ve gotten hurt in the past, you wanted to make sure he was serious about everything that he was saying. You naively believed those types of words before and your heart was broken to pieces at the end of it. After taking your time to heal, you promised yourself that you would never let yourself go through that type of pain again. You wanted things to work out between the both of you because you dreamed of this type of scenario happening. In order for all this that was developing between the both of you, you needed to make sure it was on equal terms that were respected.

You sighed and cupped his cheek so he could look at you. Giving Tom a small smile you continued what you wanted to say to him.

“Don’t get me wrong Tom, I’m really attracted to you and would like to see how things go. You have to understand that I’m trying to protect myself from getting hurt. I know you’re a great guy, but the way you’ve presented yourself with girls is something that I don’t know I can trust.”

Tom noticed the broken look in your eyes, and he leaned into your touch before grabbing your hand then softly planting a kiss on the inside of your palm.

“I know we’ve always just playfully teased each other here and there but trust me when I say that I’m serious about this. Let’s take the time to get to know each other more because I know I want to get to know more about what goes on in that mind of yours. If you would just give me a chance, let me prove to you that I can be the guy to treat you right.”

You could hear the sincerity in his voice as he warmly gazed at you. Throughout this whole exchange, you didn’t see his playboy character, but Thomas. The boy that was in front of you was Thomas that all the boys of his frat look up to and the boy that is known for always talking about his family. He took the risk to let down his walls when it was just the two of you and you knew that he put the ball in your court for what was to happen next. Your heart was already in it, but it was your mind that was holding you back. There was a part of you that wanted to immediately show him that you reciprocated the way that he felt about you, but all the scars you’ve been working so hard to heal from served as a reminder to not let history repeat itself.

Your eyes traced over his facial features as you worked out what you wanted to say as your answer to him. Memories of both of you flooded your mind as you looked back at how you got yourselves in this situation. The first-time you guys met, your friends ditched you and in your mission on finding them to go home, you bumped into Tom. He immediately tried to flirt with you in his drunken stupor. You rolled your eyes at him and laughed before pushing him away telling him that you were trying to go home. He was persistent and followed you around trying to get a rise out of you. When you found out that your friends had already left the party to pursue their own hookups for the night, Tom took it upon himself to walk you to your car. From that moment, you guys noticed each other more and unconsciously gravitated towards each other every time you crossed paths. He was great company at the parties if he wasn’t on a mission to hook up with someone and once you both found out you had the same type of humor, that was when the roast sessions began when there was nothing left to talk about. On campus, you’d occasionally bump into each other. He’d be the one to playfully send a wink your way and you’d stick your tongue out at him. You often wondered why you guys hadn’t grown closer, but as time passed you realized it was always due to both of your busy schedules trying to graduate that year.

Something just clicked inside of you as your heart and mind came to a mutual agreement after reflecting on all that’s gone on with Tom. You wanted to give him a chance, but it was going to be on your own terms. Your idea was a bit cliché, but it would help both of you in the long run. If this was going to be a thing for the both of you, you had to make sure that it would all work out. A cheeky smile appeared on your face as you let out a chuckle. He raised an eyebrow at you and smiled back at you.

“…What?” he asked.

You rested your elbows on your knees as you clasped your hands together to meet his eyes. With a playful glint in your eyes, you smirked and said, “Let’s give it a go Holland.”

His grin widened and was about to say something, but you held up your hand to stop him. “Before you say anything though, you need to listen.”

Tom pouted and said, “Don’t play with me like this, sweetheart.”

You laughed before continuing, “It’s nothing bad just a bit of a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“I’ll give you a month. One month for you to prove to me that you want this to actually be a serious thing between us. Within that time period…let’s just say you need to make me fall in love with you.”

A confident smile appeared on his face as he stood up and offered his hand to you. “That’s it?”

You gladly took his hand as he pulled you up and he wrapped his arms around your waist. Biting your bottom lip, you nodded in response and rested your hands on his chest. You could feel his rapid heartbeat and he leaned his forehead against yours.

“That’s all, Holland. You got one month.”

“Game on, darling. It’s going to be an easy game for me. You won’t be sorry.”

Before you knew it, he swiftly swung you around in a hug and you let out a squeal. Both of your laughter filled the air as he set you down and a comfortable silence fell between the both of you. You’d never admit it to him just yet, but finally being in his arms felt safe. He kissed your forehead as he tightened his grip around you. A blissful feeling spread throughout your being as you began to look forward to what would occur in the month ahead.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland imagine #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x fem #tom holland x you #tom holland one shot #tom holland x fem!reader #frat!tom #uni!tom

408 notes · View notes

finleyjayne · 4 years

Text

EXTRA

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hey guys, I know y’all don’t know me but I’m going to be trying to post some of my fan-fiction. It’s both exciting and scary, please reblog, share. I’m going to be trying to write a little blurb every day for the month of April. If you have any requests please send them my way and I’ll try my best. Thank you in advance. If you want to follow me for ONLY writings my writing blog is @finleyjaynewriting.

Warnings: Angst, Panic Attack, Self-deprecating thoughts

Summary: You are a part of the Avengers family but it’s sometimes hard to keep yourself from falling into bad habits that you thought you kicked when an essay question from your last college English class causes you to backslide. It’s a good thing your boyfriend Bucky is there to rally the troops and remind you that you are loved, even when you decide to run around the tower in a cape.

picture credit goes to: Marwan & Khaled Couture Fall/Winter 2019

Originally blogged by @fashion-runways

You had been sitting here, staring at your outline notes, grading rubric, and notebook for over an hour. And you still hadn't a scrap of what to write. The list of adjectives on the page getting fuzzier as you tried to decide whether or not they fit you. Or if they were something that your friends, team-members, or family would use to describe you.

If there was one word to describe you, you'd like to think that it was intelligent. But seeing as you live in a tower with not one but two geniuses and three supersoldiers who have heightened cognitive functions, it was terrifying how stupid you feel on the daily. Even with your triple-majored ass, you were on the lower end of intelligence.

Okay, so the people around you wouldn't call you the smart one in the group. What about determined. I mean, it takes a substantial amount of determination to get three master's degrees at the same time in five years. Tapping your pen against your chin as you think, you shake your head. Yeah, no, not when compared to Mr. I-can-do-this-all-day.

Sam is the compassionate and supportive one.

Natasha is independent and fearless.

Bucky is strong and loyal.

Bruce is sweet and patient.

Wanda is attentive and courageous.

Tony is eccentric and a genius.

Steve is gentle and determined.

Clint is funny and hardworking (even if he tries to play it off).

Gods, this assignment is going to be the downfall of my perfect 4.0 GPA. You think to yourself, slamming your head onto your notebooks. Why did you have to take English? None of your majors were English oriented. Music, Engineering, and Chemistry. No English, no need to know how to write a complete sentence. No need to write 2 pages on what your friends consider you using one word. You should know, you've made it 97% of the way through all three majors without taking a single English class. The most writing I had to do was my dissertations, which had nothing to do with this useless "self-expression piece." The prompt doesn't even make sense! Write 1000+ words on a single word. How is that logically not just busy-work?

Just as your eyes and sinuses start filling with the feeling of hopelessness, Bucky comes waltzing into the tower's library with his book of the week.

"Heya dollface. Taking a nap?" He calls, the chuckle entwining into his voice in that perfect way it does.

And that's all it takes for your body to unleash the body-shaking sobs. The soulful wail that tore through your chest and out your trembling lips was nothing like you'd ever let anyone see. Especially not your team. You were already the weak one. You didn't need them to think anything less, but after comparing yourself to them for the last two and a half hours, you couldn't keep your self-deprecation locked in its cage anymore.

Seeing you this way was terrifying for Bucky. He had never seen you cry anywhere besides on stage. Not when you had been on the Mission from Hell. Not when you were hormonal, and Clint stole your heating stuffy. Not even when you were grieving the loss of your ex-girlfriend. So now having your usually bubbly, determined, happy-go-lucky self in a full breakdown was new territory for him.

"Woah," he said, eyes widening as he stared. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, doll. If anybody deserves a nap, it's you." He comforted as he took giant steps to your chair. Lifting you effortlessly and positioning you into the cradle of his arms as he took a seat in the large Papasan chair to the side of your chosen workspace. Holding you in a tight embrace like you did when he was having a hard time with his anxiety.

He focused on breathing evenly and keeping his heartbeat in check, knowing that if he didn't stay calm, the situation would escalate into something worse. Shushing you and rocking you as he observed the table for anything that could give away why you were crying. Bucky knew better than most about your anxiety and depression. He had asked you once how you knew so much about helping him during one of your many cuddle sessions. You had just said that you were working from your own encounters before you changed the subject.

Though he didn't know everything, Bucky did try to help you as much as he could, especially as your friendship turned into something more. Still, he couldn't see anything that would cause you to become this upset. Usually, you would complain about your English assignments as you hyper-focused on them. Giving up on figuring it himself, he turned back to his distraught girlfriend, who was fighting to control her emotions in his arms.

"Babygirl, can you match your breaths to mine? Come on. Breathe in, hold, breathe out." He whispered, holding her tighter to him as she shakily followed him through the exercise a few more times. "Good, now what has my BAMF girlfriend distressed. Who do I need to take care of?"

You could feel the seriousness in his voice before you could see him through your tears. "Nobody, it's not a big deal. Just a stupid essay for English."

"Don't give me that shit, Y/F/N Y/L/N." Bucky cuts off your excuses sternly. "You rarely cry, which, no matter how much you fight it, is unhealthy." Before you could even open your mouth to argue, he had a gentle, calloused finger on your lips. "Not going to remonstrate this. You are clearly upset, you are not okay, and that is okay. I just want to know why so I can help you more fully." He says, lifting his finger from your lips to tuck a few strands of your hair from your face.

Sighing, you look down. "It's just this essay, I have to write about one word that my friends use to describe me. I ended up spiraling while trying to find a word that would be mine when all the ones I usually consider myself are more aptly displayed by somebody else. Honestly, I don't know why you keep me around. I'm pretty average." you admit, curling in on yourself as your tears gather again.

"Hey, none of that printsessa." He scolded you softly. "You are important to us. You are smart, fun, and inspirational. You are the reason we aren't at each other's throats. You are the instigator of too many of our team-building exercises. You single-handedly instigated the reconciliation between Steve and Tony." He started, giving you a smirk as you begin to scrunch your nose up. Tears were forgotten.

You really didn't like it when he made sense when you were upset. It made feeling bad really hard. The worst part; Bucky damned well knew it. "But, you're biased, Bucky."

"Maybe I am, but I also know you. And if I heard you correctly: It doesn't say one word YOU would choose to call yourself, but one word WE would define you as. Therefore, you shouldn't be wondering what words we would use. You should have gotten up and asked us. Or even better, you should've texted the group chat and asked! Then you wouldn't be here sending yourself into a hate-spiral, doll." Bucky reprimands softly. Determined to get rid of the lies that your mind is spewing at you, just like you do for him.

"I don't wanna bother you guys with my stupid homework. You guys didn't sign up to be pestered by my lack of self-mediation." You grumble huffily, knowing full well you are acting stubborn.

"If you won't help yourself. I guess it's up to me to help you." Bucky states, standing up with you still cradled snugly in his arms.

"BUCKY!" You admonish, clinging to him at his sudden movement. "At least let me walk. I'm overwhelmed and sad, not crippled."

"What's to say, I don't just wanna carry you? Huh? Also, you're holding me just as tightly love." He smiles brightly at you, kissing you briefly before turning back to the exit. Book, schoolwork, and his original objective forgotten for his new mission. He was going to find his doll her confidence again, with all the positive affirmations that should've been her first thoughts.

Once settled in the elevator, Bucky looks up, "Hey, Friday, can you take us to Tony, please?" After confirmation from the resident AI, he sets your feet on the ground from the bridal carry he's holding you in but keeping you close to him. "So you need one word? What is your plan?"

Keeping your arms in their place around his neck, you lean your head against his secure warmth. "I don't really know, Buck. I kinda got stuck on the first step. If it was an analytical or critical styled piece, it would be a breeze, but it is supposed to be a descriptive essay. I don't know what to do with that. If it was a song, I'd be cuddled with you and my ukelele by now, putting finishing touches on the finished product. But no, there isn't any room for incomplete sentences. Maybe I'll make it a song just to spite the evil bat."

"Hey, dollface, it's okay, I'm here to help you. Does it just have to be one word, or can it be structured for each person you know to have a different word? Remember what Peter said that one time he was working with you on Formatting? Your thesis could be something like 'I am many things to many different people and therefore have many different words that can be used to describe me. These things are A, B, C, and D. Then, you can use each term for a paragraph of fluff."

Taking a deep breath, your lip twitches somewhere between a smile and a deep frown. "That does sound like a good idea. I don't really want to track down everyone, though. Can we get everyone into the same room and ask them as a group? It would be less hassle, and maybe we can decide on reasoning and stories to use to explain why? I really don't know how to do this without being really pessimistic and cynical about the whole thing."

"Mr. Stark is in his lab, he is recommended that he is brought down to the commons, where I will page everyone else." Came Friday's disembodied voice.

"Thank you, Friday," you whispered. You weren't really sure that you were ready for this, but you know that this is the best way to finish this essay without spiraling into your self-pity again. It has to get done. Procrastination is not an option. After all, these are your friends. They don't have to know that you were bawling your eyes out about this stupid assignment.

Taking another steadying breath, you wipe the remainder of your tears off your make-up-less face onto Bucky's soft T-shirt, before turning out of his embrace to march confidently into Tony's Lab. "Hey Tones, your presence is required in the Commons." You call as you walk in the door. Knowing that Friday would've warned you if Tony had been in the middle of something delicate.

"What is it for? I want to get this sequence reconfigured. Can it wait?" Tony said, his full attention on a large display of Smalltalk equational programming floating off of his Holotable.

"Nope, if you don't come now, you don't get to participate, let Friday do the reconfiguration code. It will be done by the time you get back. If you come and keep your attitude to a minimum, I'll let you use me as a scapegoat for your next prank." You try to bribe when he looked offended that I'd suggest such a thing.

"Any prank? Even if it's against loverboy?" Tony perked, throwing a truly roguish smirk over your shoulder.

"As long as no one is injured or harmed. But to make sure that I can cover your ass, you need to fill me in on the joke BEFORE you pull it." You say herding him away from the endless rows of code while he is occupied with his next plot.

When you finally make it to the Commons, The rest of the Avengers are gathered on the couches. All seemed to be in a decent enough mood. Taking a deep breath, you look to Bucky for direction on how to implement this plan of his.

He gives your hand a squeeze as he guides you to the middle of the sectional. Holding you from behind, he clears his throat. "Hey, guys. Thanks for coming to this impromptu meeting. I know you guys were probably doing nothing, anyway, but I appreciate you coming down here. Doll, here, needs some help from us. Well, you guys, since apparently, I am biased." His tone is light as he brings attention to us.

You can't help but feel that knot of uncertainty come back as he speaks, though. You try your best to hide the shaking of your hands by holding onto Bucky's forarms that rest tightly around your middle, grounding you into the moment. Please just let this be quick.

"You are biased," you grumble. "You have to say the best things because you are my boyfriend. It makes for a skewed view on what my friends think of me."

"She does have a point, Buck. You tend to have neverending heart-eyes whenever anything is about her. Though that is reasonable, seeing as she is your girl. I'd be more concerned if you didn't have a shade or two of rose to your glasses." Steve said from his station in on the nearest end of the couch to the door.

"If his glasses are tinted any pinker, they won't be able to be seen through." Scoffed Sam from the other end of the couch.

"Doesn't matter," Bucky cut in before there could be any more railroading. "Y/N has an essay that she has to write but couldn't find the right inspiration for the prompt. Seeing as it pertains to our views on her, I felt it necessary to bring our expertise into the mix."

"Oh, What's the prompt?" Bruce asked from the corner of the window seat.

"It's stupid, It's an essay on the word that your friends and family would use to describe you. Well, in this case, describe me." You say to the oak coffee table that separated the majority of them from you and Bucky.

"Doll, stop hating, and just accept the help." He whispered into your

"Well, you've definitely come to the right place. Come on, guys, what words describe Y/N?" Tony said enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together from the place he found next to Natasha.

"Friday, can you make a list on the monitor, so we don't forget any?" Steve asked the AI helpfully.

"Good idea, I'll start with eccentric," Nat stated.

"Bubbly."

"Funny."

"Smart."

"Out-going."

"Playful."

"Creative."

"Hardworking."

"resourceful, Multi-talented, Impressive."

"Badass."

"Stubborn."

Words just kept coming at incredible speed before there was a ding at the elevator. "Mrs. (Y/L/N), The package you ordered last night needs to be signed for if you wouldn't mind." Friday cut in.

As more words were being piled onto the TV screen, you turned toward the elevator. "It's here already??" you asked, making your way to the waiting delivery man. I quickly signed for the package before coming back to the group. Ripping into the box without care as Tony and Clint argued over positive and negative words on the list.

Letting out an excited squeal while you pulled the long, sky-blue cape out of the box and swishing it over your shoulders, clasping it easily, and spinning in a circle to make it swish out. It was just as you imagined. Silky, soft, and absolutely perfect for everything. When you finally came back to the conversation you found yourself at the center of attention, everyone's eyes were on you in different mixes of amusement and exasperation.

"Where you going, Miss Bennet?" Tony laughed out.

"What do you mean, where am I going? This is my house cape. Don't you have one? It's the latest fashion." You bite back, raising your head in indignation. "I love it, I am going to wear it. EVERYWHERE."

As everyone's faces split into the biggest smiles, Peter walked into the room, tossing his backpack onto the floor as he took a seat between Sam and Steve.

"No Capes!" He said, lovingly referencing the Incredibles. Sending a ripple of laughs through the group of superheroes. "So what has you so Extra today, Y/N?"

"Nothing, I just saw this for sale while I was doing research for my recital dress and thought it would be nice." You respond fondly, feeling invincible in the cape.

"THAT'S IT! YOUR WORD IS EXTRA!" Clint said, springing from his perch. Everyone looked contemplative for a moment before nodding.

"Agreed. It's perfect. You give extra in everything you do." Steve said, not really getting the modern connotation.

Even though it isn't any of the words that you thought they would choose, you can't really complain. Especially when it gives you the privilege of wearing your Couture Cape around the tower, just because you want to.

Smiling at Bucky, you raised slightly on your toes to kiss his cheek, whispering a thank you. And with that, you whooshed off to write the worst essay in your academic career. Leaving the bickering and astounded Avengers in your wake.

#reader insert #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barns x reader #student reader #sorry not even remotely sorry #fins reads #fins' fic recs #fins' recs #fins recs fics #fanfiction #fic reblog

53 notes · View notes

sayhitoforever · 5 years

Text

Burn Season - Malcolm Bright x Reader - PT (3/?)

Fictober 28/31

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 - GIF credit to malcolmbrighted again because the GIF quality is 👌. I’ll take requests I guess, to keep me entertained, if anyone wants to make one. Let me know if this story is worth continuing.

The precinct was mostly quiet when Malcolm entered the next morning, far earlier than the rest of the team would be there. There was the quiet drone of a radio somewhere, filling the large, desk-filled room with quiet jazz. A few officers were bent over some paperwork, another slumped uncomfortably in their chair, a baseball cap pulled over their eyes as they dozed. Nothing out of the ordinary in there. Malcolm ran a tired, trembling hand through his hair, smoothing it down. He'd come in because he couldn't sleep, not that sleeplessness was anything new. He figured Edrisa might have at least a preliminary work up on the bodies from the last night and he desperately needed something to distract him from his own overactive brain and all the details it was clinging to. He turned away from the main room and moved for the stairs, hoping Edrisa was still down in her lab.

“Oh, excuse me, miss,” Malcolm murmured as he accidentally shouldered a woman as she came stumbling out of a door.

“Snake Eyes, good morning,” the woman said, trying to readjust the lid on top of the banker's box she had in her arms. She jostled it slightly and the tinkling sound of glass moving against glass sounded from the box.

“Miss. L/N?” Malcolm damn near had to do a triple take as he gazed at the woman who'd blown onto his crime scene last night before leaving just as quickly.

“In the flesh,” Y/N said, with a wolfish grin that caught him off guard, and shuffled the box in her arms, trying to do so carefully.

She was dressed in a t-shirt with a navy cardigan thrown over it and dark jeans that were laced into black combat boots. Her hair that she'd worn long and twisting over her shoulder was now swept into a bun atop her head. The scent of a burning forest still clung to her but so did the sharp smell of tequila. Malcolm couldn’t help but stare. It felt like seeing an identical twin, a doppelganger of some kind, dressed down from the beautiful woman he’d seen last night.

She arched an eyebrow at him artfully as he continued to stare. “I got something on my face?” she asked, her lips curling at the edges, voice lilting over the lightest accent that wasn't New York in origin.

Malcolm squinted at her as if she was down the hall and not a foot from his face. “You weren’t lying when you said you and Edrisa were going to drink.”

Y/N shrugged casually, undeterred by Malcolm’s questioning eyes. “If you're looking for Edrisa, she's passed out in a spare cot upstairs,” Y/N said as she strode down the hall, back pushing open a door that Malcolm had never been through. “Don't poke the bear, okay. Besides, I can give you her preliminary.”

Like a moth to flame, Malcolm followed after her and made it to the door in time to hear her drop the box from her arms into a dumpster. It clattered, full of empty glass, as it hit the bottom and rang in the emptiness of the recently emptied dumpster. Y/N came back through the door to find Malcolm waiting and gave him another tilted grin, a grin that made him wonder just how inebriated she might be.

“Where are you from?” Malcolm asked without preamble.

“Chicago,” she answered, and he found no lie in her gaze. “You want the report or no?”

He could only nod numbly as she brushed passed him towards the door he had originally meant to go through before they had collided. Malcolm held it for her as she thumped down the stairs with all the grace of a sober person, combat boots ringing in the stairwell. The three bodies lay on their own tables, white sheets delicately laid across them. Under the sharp smell of formaldehyde lingered the scent of tequila and the sweet undertone of chocolate. Maybe that was what a Baby Stout was?

There was something so relaxed about the lines of her body, so different than what he could remember of her last night. Which was everything, replaying over in his head like a record stuck on repeat. The way she strode across Edrisa’s lab, confident, fingers dancing across the cold metal of the exam tables as she passed them, like she belonged there, was mesmerizing. Enchanted, Malcolm watched as she rifled through a stack of folders on Edrisa’s desk before slipping one out of the pile. She cracked it open as she wove back around to where Malcolm still stood.

“No secondary accelerant, just the gasoline that was used as the primary. Still waiting on dental records, poor suckers.” She wrinkled her nose at something in the report. “Like a couple of char-dogs left on too long.” Y/N held the open report out to him and looked up, eyes twinkling, her lopsided grin the first sign Malcolm thought showed intoxication.

If anything could be said about Malcolm as an adult, as a federal agent, as a criminal profiler, it was his lack of subtlety. In his field experience, subtlety didn’t tend to get him anywhere. And over time, those work habits had bled into his personal life until they were impossible to separate, regardless of who he was dealing with. It was too late at that point, to employ any kind of restraint or sensitivity when speaking with Y/N. He’d already accused her of being a sociopath, had already tried to interrogate her, profile her. She’d handled all of it with practiced grace, all while in the eyes of others, in an environment where she had to perform, to pretend. And Malcolm wanted to break that so suddenly the impulse felt akin to violence.

“Does anybody know the real you?” Malcolm asked, voice quiet, as he studied her. The way her lip curled slightly at his question, the way she gripped the edges of the manila folder too tightly, the way her eyes narrowed just a little and filled with a rage that raised the hair on the back of his neck. And then, it was all gone, wiped clean until she was void of expression, of emotion, her hands relaxing. Y/N seemed to rock back on her heels to put space between her and Malcolm.

“Maybe this is the real me,” she snapped back, her defiant tone a wild contrast to her indifferent face. “Maybe that’s the whole game, profiler. If you figure it out, you get the real, ugly truth as a reward.”

“It’s Malcolm, not profiler, not Snake Eyes, Malcolm,” he fired back. They stood in silence for a handful of heartbeats, gazes blistering as they stared at each other.

Until she smiled, a ferocious flash of teeth, with eyes that glittered under the harsh fluorescent lights of the lab. She closed the folder gently, stepping forward, into his space, before pressing it to his chest with a force that would have made Malcolm stumble if he hadn’t had his back against one of the metal tables. “Let me know if you find anything worth my time, Malcolm,” she murmured, cocking her head to the side as she looked him up and down, her wandering gaze causing goosebumps to break out on his arms.

She had him entirely figured out, Malcolm realized too late and with a crushing sense of exhilarating dread. Malcolm had never considered himself to have a type, of any person, either as a friend or as something more. But she was ticking every unspoken box. Fearless, smart as a whip, with a smile that made his pulse jump, a puzzle worth solving, a challenge. And unlike their descent, her steps were entirely silent as she ascended the stairs back to the main floor, the only sound that she had even departed the room was that of the door slamming somewhere above him. It wasn’t until he could focus on the droning buzz of the lights overhead did he realize that she had agreed with his accusation of her.

188 notes · View notes