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jj-babebank · 3 years

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Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 5

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being… Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death. Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4 Masterlist

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Part 5 -

53 days of camp left

The first day at Camp Willowdale was usually pretty straightforward – campers arrive, sign in, move into their designated cabins where they meet their counselors, then all gather in the Wildcat Lodge to get their schedules, maps, badges and compasses. Ever since Pricilla’s daughter left her, she ditched the idea of having a stable with horses at camp (saying it reminded her way too much of Wendy, and also cost a lot of money to maintain), and settled for scavenger hunts in full scout mode in the forest, hence the compasses and badges. Every camper was given a first badge for participation and would get the chance to earn new badges to add to their collection during their nine week stay. Pricilla made sure that there was a badge for literally everything – from successfully starting a fire to throwing out the trash. She liked to do this to make all the campers feel included and special, which on its own sounded like a wonderful thing, however her actual motives were selfish – happy kids meant happy parents, and happy parents meant money. She also liked to turn everything into a competition, so she established a scoring system that nobody but her understood, where she’d award or deduct points from different groups and the group with the most points at the end of the summer will be crowned conquerors of the camp at a made up end-of-summer event Pricilla named the “Camp Will-all-hail banquet”. Caroline always found the name to be extremely tacky, but much like mostly everything that Pricilla put her finger onto, it wasn’t surprising.

JJ and Caroline had gotten assigned to Teens 2. Unsurprisingly, everyone in their group was almost their age, which seemed like somewhat of a recipe for disaster, as Caroline feared that this could result in the teens refusing to follow orders from someone who is basically their age. She was pleasantly surprised to find out that their group of teens was actually quite well-mannered and well-behaved. John B and Sarah’s teens, however, were a whole different story.

“You sure you got T2 and not T1?” panted Sarah after finally sitting down at the counselors table beside Caroline for dinner.

Caroline smirked, “Positive,” she confirmed, not being able to hide her amusement at the sight of an already tired Sarah, “Why’d you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” said Sarah sarcastically, “Well, besides all the girls, and I’m pretty sure one of the boys, having a massive thing for John B, and them all quite literally being the spawns of Satan, hm… no reason,”

Caroline laughed at Sarah’s words, looking over at the table where her group and Sarah’s were seated at. Two of the T1 girls were giggling while telling a story, while everyone else’s attention was on them. Caroline came to the conclusion that they would be the It Girls at this year’s camp, bossing everyone around. She couldn’t help but laugh at the irony that it was Sarah who got these two as they were literally mini versions of her.

“Heard my name being called,” John B slid onto the bench across the table from the girls. Now that everyone had been sorted, the Wildcat Lodge seating area had been rearranged so that the groups would be sat together according to their ages, and the counselors would be sat together according to their groups. The head staff had their own table at the very foot of the podium, right next to where the food was, conveniently.

JJ was quick to join their group at their respective table, “What’d I miss?”

“Oh, nothing,” Caroline said nonchalantly, “Just Sarah being jealous over her girls liking John B, no biggie,” Sarah kicked her under the table, earning an, “Ow!”

John B’s eyes immediately shot up, that familiar twinkle of excitement swimming through his honey orbs, “Jealous?”

“As if,” barked Sarah, squinting her eyes at him threateningly.

“We’ll see about that, baby cakes,” John B winked, diving into his dinner.

“So,” said JJ, lowering his voice in case any of the neighboring tables were listening, “What’s the plan, guys?”

Caroline shook her head, “I don’t even know where we could start, I mean, the only clue we’ve got so far is that message we had to scrub off the rock this morning before the campers arrived…”

John B thought for a second, “Hey, wasn’t Topper paired up with her?” he said suddenly.

Caroline’s eyes widened in realization, “John B, you’re a genius!” she said, earning a proud smile from the boy, “Last night at the counting, Topper said something about feeling guilty for not offering her his jacket!” the four of them turned to look towards Topper’s table. He was sitting quietly, barely poking at his food, while the rest of his fellow counselors were having an animated conversation around him. Caroline turned back towards her friends, “Chances are he was the one who saw her last!”

“Yeah, and judging by the look of his face, he doesn’t seem too excited about it,” remarked JJ.

“Can you blame him? I’d be pissed if I was paired with Madison, too,” muttered Sarah, scrunching her nose at the leafy salad in her plate.

“Tonight at the bonfire,” said Caroline, “Sarah’s going to offer him some help with his girls, seeing as he’s dealing with all of his kids alone,”

“Hey, why me?” Sarah frowned at the plan.

“Because you’re the one who had a massive crush on him back in the day,” Caroline whispered in Sarah’s ear, resulting in Sarah kicking her under the table again. Caroline bit back a groan as she smiled forcefully, looking at the two boys in front of her, “Okay, well, sounds like we’ve got a plan.”

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After handing out the songbooks and marshmallows to all of their teens, Caroline, JJ, Sarah and John B took a seat at their designated log next to their groups, which had somehow bonded during dinner and were all laughing together.

“Alright, settle down kids!” Pricilla said, causing everyone’s chatter to die down, “As you have already been informed, it is a Willowdale tradition to perform our very own rendition of Bomfiara every morning and night until the end of camp. The songbooks you’ve been kindly given by your counselors contain the lyrics to all of the camp songs we’re going to be singing this summer, but I’m sure that by the end of it you won’t be needing the books anymore,” Pricilla fake-laughed at her own joke while everyone just started at her blankly, “Okay, well, let’s sing!” she gave the tone and everyone started signing.

“This is so lame,” said one of the girls Caroline proclaimed as “It Girls” earlier that evening, “We’re too old for this BS,”

“You got that right,” mumbled Sarah.

“Oh, come on, I love it, it used to be our favorite tradition!” whined John B.

The two girls squealed and started pinching each other, immediately opening their songbooks and joining in on the singing, making intense eye contact with John B with their best seductive looks. Sarah rolled her eyes at the scene.

“See?” she whispered to Caroline, “This is what I meant!”

Caroline smirked at the blonde girl, “Am I sensing… jealousy?”

Sarah scoffed at the remark, “Pf, yeah right,” she said defensively, “I’m just annoyed that they’re only listening to what he’s saying and we’re supposed to be counselors together.”

Caroline nodded slowly, pretending to be buying the story, “Yeah, sure,” she turned to look at Topper, who regardless of the fact that he was surrounded by his group and fellow counselors, still seemed down, the camp fire illuminating his distant face, “Speaking of together, when do you wanna go talk to Topper?”

Sarah followed Caroline’s gaze towards the boy, “Once this stupid song is over,”

Caroline nodded and both girls turned towards their group again, where the It Girls were still making sexy eyes at John B, who seemed totally clueless to their approach as he was belting the lyrics of the much familiar song out loud, waving JJ’s hands every so often.

Once the song was over and everyone got back to their regular chitchat, Sarah stood up and straightened her shorts and camp sweatshirt as she made her way towards Topper.

“Hey, Top, this seat taken?” she said, referring to the empty spot on the log next to him where Madison was supposed to be sat.

Topper looked at Sarah as if she’d just said a distasteful joke, “Hey, Sarah…” he muttered, “Obviously not,”

“Awesome!” Sarah smiled widely, plopping down next to the boy.

“So,” Topper started awkwardly, “What brings you here?”

“Saw you from across the pit,” she explained directly, “Couldn’t help but notice that you seem lonely,”

“Yeah, well,” Topper looked at her with a look of disapproval once again, “I sort of am,”

Sarah pretended to only just realize what he was talking about, “Riiight… So, about that,” she chirped again, “Last night you said something about a jacket?”

Topper sighed, “Yeah, Madison said she was cold when we were in our cabin and instead of offering her my jacket, I sort of felt… relieved that she was going to leave me for a second to go grab hers. I should’ve known that something was wrong when she was gone for over 10 minutes, instead I just laughed around with Kelce and the boys and then we heard the scream…”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Oh, please, you’re not blaming yourself for it, are you?”

“I mean, I kinda am,” Topper confessed, “If I wasn’t too caught up in being annoyed that I’d been paired up with her, I’d have just given her my jacket or followed her to your cabin to get hers and none of this would’ve happened,”

Sarah tried putting on her best apologetic smile as she reached for Topper’s hand, taking him by surprise, “Look, Top, I hate Madison just as much as the next person, but I hardly think any of this was your fault. She probably just used the jacket as an excuse to ditch and got excited to see her rookie boyfriend, hence the scream,”

Topper frowned, “Don’t tell me you actually believe all that?”

Sarah shrugged, “I mean, she was a drama queen,”

Topper pulled his hands away from Sarah’s, shaking his head, “Just go, Sarah,”

Sarah looked over towards her friends across the fire pit who were all staring at her in anticipation, as she shrugged her shoulders and mouthed them a, “Sorry, I tried,” making her way back to where they were seated.

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A/N: Camp has finally officially begun and so has the search for truth ~~ As always, let me know what you think, I hope you are enjoying the story so far, I'm super excited to be writing this xxx

tags: @k-k0129 ; @hayleyy-l ; @marvellover04

Part 6 here

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softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years

Note

An oddly specific hc:

Weaver, Mason, Woods, Adler, and Hudson with an S/O who likes to give+recieve cuddles. (Guess whose love language is physical touch? Is me.)

DJDJDJSJ LITERALLY ALL OF MY HUSBANDS IN ONE ASK !!!! You know, love languages for the squad might be an interesting one, one day! I feel you tho, mine is words of affirmation but physical touch is a super close second 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Phew I went kind of all in on these, so sorry of they're really long or rambly, but I hope you enjoy them!! Weaver and Woods even feature a little dad bod action bc ik that's our thing 😌😌💅🏻

Adler

Honestly, at first he's not use to it

In fact, you'd be forgiven to think he didn't like it at all

However, he never shuts you down either...

If you persevere for long enough and are able to gain his trust, you'll be rewarded to find that he actually quite enjoys your touch

Well, more then enjoys I'd say

Adlers job is a lonely and thankless one, and although he could hardly bring himself to admit as much...

The loneliness takes a toll on him

He is only interested in receiving that kind of affection from someone he has a connection with, so as you can imagine, it's harm for him to get that need fulfilled without you

In a way, he grows rather addicted to you

You're the first thing he goes for when he comes home after time away

All in all, he's down for whatever you've got to give, but his favorite thing to do is to hold you

Whether that be while cuddled up and or just standing in place, it doesn't matter to him

In turn, he particularly likes when you stroke his jawline or pepper him with kisses

He's very sensitive about his face and scars as you know, doubly so after the torture and rescue stuff he went through

So when you show extra affection to that spot, not only is it a huge sign of his trust in you, but it also just so happens to make him melt

Hudson

Hudson is an extremely similar case to Adler in that, although you wouldn't guess it, he craves physical touch

In fact, Hudson might be even worse off

I would argue that at least Adler works with his task force members, but Hudson???

He's more or less forced to stick to the shadows and only speak to others on a more or less need to know basis

Given that cannon Hudson has a whole wife and kids, I get the feeling that he just wants to be loved damn it!!!

So all this to say that, unlike Adler, I don't think Hudson would be even remotely as coy with his desire for affection

I mean, if you've managed to snag a relationship with him, he must trust you a whole lot already, so why not just clear the air, right?

However, I will say that I think he might be a little shy about it

What if he comes across as too needy or something? Not a good look for a grown man, surely

As a result, if he has nothing more pressing to attend to, he'll be your shadow around the house all day long, from one room to the next

Of course, he does his best to not follow you step for step or do anything else that would obviously give him away, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out what he wants

You'll have to invite him to come to you most of the time

And good thing too, bc when he's with you, it's like heaven

He's fond of simply collapsing into your lap when your seated, or across your torso when laying down

From there, you can do whatever you want

If you really wanted, you could balance a damn book on his back and just read in silence for all he cares

As long as he can have that physical connection to you, it doesn't matter

This is another area where he's a step up in extreme from Adler

While Adler wants you, Hudson needs you

You're like his one place of rest in the whole world, the only place he can be safe and forget about his work, and you have no idea how much that means to him

Mason

Personally, I think Alex is probably the one most (relatively lmao) well adjusted adult of the group

He of course loves receiving physical affection from you, but he doesn't need to rely on it as some sort of coping mechanism

While he can be a little clingy, its a usually only after times that he has to be away for a long while

Personally, I feel like Alex is the safest for me to say that he probably also has physical touch as his love language as well!

He will often come seek you out just as much as you so for him, and he has no problem requesting some snuggle time

Mason is perfectly confident in his masculinity after all, so asking if you wouldn't mind cuddling him is a simple task in his eyes

The height of his interest in touch comes when he's trying to sleep though

He's prone to pretty awful night terrors given all that he's been through, so I'd say that's the only real time that he truly does rely on you and your gift

Even if it's just something as small as holding his hand while you lay next to him, any little bit helps

He definitely notices more difficulty sleeping when you're not around, so he's thankful for you for sure

Mason is also pretty big on pda I think lol

Like holding hands, hugging, and kissing...

None of that bothers him!

Although he enjoys nearly all forms of touch from you, he'd have to admit that he loves it the most even you run his back or hold his hands

It's... Comforting

Weaver

Off, poor Weaver, he's a mess

Imagine someone who burns with an all consuming desire just to be touched damn it !!! like Hudson does, and yet has ten times the reservations and insecurities about it as Adler does

That's close to what Weaver is like

He's extremely shy around you, just to start off

In fact, he's probably still star struck that you actually wanted to be in a relationship with him in the first place

And so, he's not sure how to act...

He really is a big softie on the inside, and yet he's not sure if you'd like that

After all, he's the big, tough Russian guy to everyone else

That's who you met, so it would make sense that that's what you want, right?

While Hudson would warm up after a while and, albeit awkwardly I'm sure, ask you for some cuddling time or some such...

... Weaver almost never asks, but will instead make it painfully obvious that he wants it lol

It definitely does not help that he's quite insecure with his appearance

These days, he's a just a touch more soft and round then he use to be, and that's on top of his missing eye and greying hair

If you are of the opinion that such things only make him more suited for cuddling, warm and comfy as he is, it will take him an awful long time to believe you

Buuuuuuut...

Although he loves to pretend he only tolerates his at best, he does rather enjoy it when you give his chest or tummy some affection

It's sort of like Adler and his scars: Weaver loathes the state of his abdomen, amongst other things, but he must admit...

He likes that you like it

Woods

Geez, Woods is probably as opposite from Weaver as it gets

I once heard the phrase "a dog in human form", and honestly?

It doesn't get more accurate then that

This man lives for attention and the fact that you want to give it to him, drives him crazy

He's pretty shameless, and is down to be touched or felt basically whenever

It's to the point that he's taken up walking around the house shirtless just in anticipation of any cuddling or rubs to be had

He's a bit performative about it, which can be either entertaining or annoying depending, but he never misses an opportunity to show off his muscles to you and let you have a feel

Really though, anywhere you want to touch, however you want to do it, go ahead baby! He'll eat it up lmao

Of course, if you catch him at a time in his life where he's going the route of Weaver and developing some dad bod...

Totally different story

If that's the case, he's extremely adverse to letting you touch places like his thighs, chest, and of course his stomach

Really, just anywhere that's filled out

Which in his mind, could very well extend to his body as a whole

Needless to say, this creates a very powerful inner turmoil between his desire to be near to you and impress you, and his fear of rejection

With this Woods, it'll take a loooot of gentle touches and reasurace to bring him around

But once he trusts you, he's be right back to how toned Woods would act

Bare chested, tummy out, and ready for some lovin 😌

#black ops cold war #call of duty #russell adler x reader #frank woods x reader #jason hudson x reader #alex mason x reader #grigori weaver x reader #russell adler #frank woods #jason hudson #grigori weaver #alex mason

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imaginesfor-thesoul · 4 years

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spencer reid x Hotch! daughter

PART TWO ( you can find part one here)

word count: 3.7k

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, thank you guys so much for all the support on the first part.

:: :: ::

The board room in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI was bustling. To an unfamiliar eye, the scattered papers, photographs and maps all across the floor would indicate that a hurricane had blown through the room. Though this madness, as chaotic as it may be, was a methodical look into a profilers brain.

In the eye of the hurricane, sat (y/n). She would fidget with the rings on her fingers or tap her foot against the ground. Now two days into the investigation, the possibility that they may not find Lacy alive plagued (y/n).

Across the room, Spencer Reid was working on a geographical profile centered around the home that Amber (deceased), Lacy (missing) and (y/n) (Currently fucking terrified) shared.

“I’ve been looking over the note that the unsub left, I noticed something in the second line.” Prentiss announced. “-and don’t worry, I cared for Amber in her last moments. I took her last breath with poise and precision” She quoted.

(y/n)’s foot tapped a little harder. Unbeknownst to her, noted by a gentle eyed Spencer.

Prentiss continued, “The emphasis on care, precision and poise determines almost a sincere effort to impress and please whoever found the note. These sound like the words of a female unsub. An incredibly insecure female unsub at that.” She concluded.

The team collectively agreed with this theory and continued on.

Derek sat down at the table next to (y/n). “So, we know you’ve still got your phone on you, have you turned it on since you left?” He asked.

(y/n) shook her head “No, I haven’t just incase it’s being tapped.” Suddenly her fingernails became oh so interesting once more.

Derek nodded in understanding. “Right, okay, now listen (y/n), I know it’s going to be scary but after we give the profile and do the press conference, I’m going to need you to turn that phone back on for me, it may be our only contact with our unsub.”

This made (y/n)’s heart feel as though it were about to stop. The continual state of shock and fear that she remained in, had manifested a sense of detachment and disconnect to the whole case. This roped her right back in to the center of the case.

A quick nod was enough of answer for Derek as he shot a friendly wink her way. Getting up he said “Thanks kid, you know, you’re really doing great.” Before walking off.

Replacing Dereks absence, (y/n)’s father, SSA Aaron Hotchner took a seat next to his visibly overwhelmed daughter. “How are you holding up?” He placed a loving arm around her shoulder and pulled her in.

A quiet stream of tears slid down her cheek as she hid her face into his chest, “I’m ready to wake up now, dad.”

This killed him. A breaking father holding his broken daughter.

(y/n) held her head back up and excused herself to the restroom.

Above the hum in the room, Hotch cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s eager attention. “We are ready to present our profile. JJ, get in contact with the local PD’s and bring them all here this afternoon, we are going to need as much help as we can get.”

JJ nodded obediently and rushed out of the room straight to her office.

:: :: ::

(y/n) sat quietly and patiently as she listened to her father and his team deliver their profile. They determined that the unsub was female, insecure and incredibly manic. The impulsive nature of this unsub means that anyone in contact with her must be prepared for her erratic behavior. This behavior may present itself through violence, self harm, or fleeing.

Every mention of Lacy and Amber made her flinch. She knew what she had to do once these meetings were over, and she was terrified.

The core team filed back into the board room and (y/n) placed her phone onto the table. Morgan spoke up. “If you are right about the unsub tapping your phone, shortly after turning it on there is a large chance our unsub will try to contact you.”

“Reid!” Hotch grabbed the young genius’ attention. “Can you prep (y/n) for the call, it has to be her on the phone.”

(y/n) and Spencer sat down across from each other next to a window. Far from all the chatter. Reid looked at (y/n). And suddenly, momentarily, it was like they were back on the floor of the bullpen. Something about the two of them was magnetic, there was no longer a killer that had killed one roommate and kidnapped the other, there was no unsub, no threat of security. But for now, there was a more pressing issue hand, so this spontaneous, charismatic revelation of love and soul would have to be pushed to the side. Though a silent mutual understanding had been made next to that window. That was for later.

Clearing his throat, Reid began. “Right, I’ll go over the basics for you.” He was being overly professional. Not only does he have FBI guidelines to follow, but also this gorgeous, incredible young woman’s father right across the room. Suppressing every urge in his being, he continued.

(y/n) listened with wide eyes, panic blowing on the back of her neck.

“You need to keep the unsub on the phone for as long as you can, okay? Garcia will be tracking where the call is coming from, but the more time she has the better.” Reid hesitated when he saw (y/n)’s hand begin to tremble. All he want to do was place her small hand in his, look her in the eye and assure her that everything will be okay. But he couldn’t. He cleared his throat “Um okay also, don’t let the conversation get off topic, we want as many hints as to where Lacy could be, her…condition-”

A glaze glimmered across (y/n)’s eyes. The saddest glimmer the young profiler had ever seen. Reid could see she was trying to hold it together.

“We’ll all be here with you. Your father, Rossi, all of us.” (y/n) nodded, a lone tear escaping her.

Instinctively, Reid’s hand lay gently on top of her own. He gave in to yearning. The second (y/n) and Reid finally connected, a new star found its way into the sky. A rosebud bloomed and all the birds sang.

“I’ll be there.” He concluded.

(y/n)’s heart was fighting its way out of her chest. “Okay…” She began. “I can do this, we can do this.”

Reid nodded.

“For Lacy.”

“(y/n), Reid. We’re all set up. Ready when you are.” Garcia announced from across the room.

Reid quickly detracted his hand, (y/n) instantly felt a sense of loss and longing for its return.

Taking a deep breath, (y/n) responded back with a (hopefully) confident sounded “I’m ready.”

She sharply stood up and found her way over to the large table where the rest of the team had already crowded around. A speaker sat in the center, as well as veins of wires spreading between all sorts of machinery.

Taking a seat next to her father, she felt his hand make its way to her shoulder.

“You’ve got this, (y/n). I’m right here next to you. She can’t hurt you from here.” Hotch told his shaking daughter. She leaned into his hand before sitting back up straight.

“Okay… turn it on.”

Garcia reached across the table grabbing the phone. Holding down the power button, the screen began to light up. The room got silent.

36 seconds.

36 seconds of sheer panic.

36 seconds of pure silence.

36 seconds and (y/n) and Spencer Reid’s eyes did not leave one and others.

The hum of a ringtone slices through the silence. The tension cut short.

“Show time.” Rossi says quietly, shooting (y/n) a look of encouragement.

(y/n) looks to her father one last time before grabbing the phone. “Hello?” She asks. Struggling to hear anything past the bulldozing beat of her screaming heart.

Garcia connects the phone to the speaker so everyone could hear.

There was a low trill which was slowly getting louder. a laugh. not a maniacal laugh. more like a hysterical, painful, uncontrollable roar.

All eyes across the table dart to one and other, not entirely sure of how to proceed.

The laughing finally ceases. “It’s good to hear from you, (y/n). I’ve missed you.” The woman drawls.

A shiver ran down her spine. “Do you have Lacy?” (y/n) ignored the tremble in her voice, using all of her power to not burst into tears.

The woman on the phone chuckled once more. “You mean the bitch that won’t stop whining and screaming?! I’m surprised you can’t hear her.”

Prentiss nodded and whispered in a hushed tone “This is a good sign Lacy’s still alive.”

Morgan leaned over to Garcia. “You got it, baby girl?” He asked

“Just need a little longer to work my magic” Garcia responded.

“C-can i talk to her?” (y/n) asked.

Spencer looks to her worryingly. As if trying to warn her, she may not like what she hears.

There was a slight pause, the static on the line held steady.

“I think that’s going to have to be a no.” The woman on the phone decided. “Bye now, (y/n) See you soon.” She said

Before (y/n) could even process, the line goes dead. She instantly looks to Garcia. “We’ve got a location!” She announces

A big sigh of relief falls over the table.

Hotch stands quickly, grabbing his jacket. “Right, let’s head out.”

:: :: ::

Crammed in the SUV, Hotch and (y/n) took the front two seats, with Hotch driving. Spencer and Rossi took the back two seats, and the others traveled in a operate vehicle.

“So we can definitely determine that you have come in contact with this unsub before, or at least she has come in contact with you.” Spencer piped up while Hotch weaved through traffic.

“Did you recognize their voice?”Rossi asks (y/n).

(y/n) was once again fiddling with the rings on her fingers, “Uh…no, I don’t think I did.” The entire car ride her thoughts felt like the static on the other end of that phone call. She couldn’t think of any thing other than Lacy. Hoping, pleading that she would be okay.

A petit blue house at the end of a road was surrounded by flashing sirens and yellow tape. This was it. (y/n) thought. They were getting Lacy back.

Hopping out of the van, (y/n) was instantly fitted with a bulletproof vest. Her father, also wearing a vest, made his way towards her. “Listen, there’s a chance that we’re going to need you in there. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t come to that. But I need you to be ready… just in case, okay?” Hotch looked at his daughter, the pair both had matching vests and matching teary eyes.

Not letting any tears spill, (y/n) nodded harshly. “Okay, I just can’t wait for this to be over.”

Hotchner sighed and agreed. “Me too kid-“ Placing his hands on her shoulders, he continued “We’ve got to go in now. I love you, (y/n). Always.” He pulled her into a welcome bone-crushing hug.

“I love you too, Dad.” She whispered, before letting go, and watching her dad, Prentiss and Morgan file into the old house, after kicking down the door of course.

Looking to her left, (y/n) noticed the doe-eyed genius had stayed behind. “Aren’t you supposed to be in there too?” She inquired. Not really caring about the answer, more just trying to distract from the deafening static that comes with a side of panic and trauma.

Reid smiled slightly. “Oh I asked to stay behind with you. Just so…you know, in case you do need to go in, you don’t have to be by yourself.”

This was the first time (y/n) had seen Spencer less than 100% sure of what he was saying. But she couldn’t help but admit the relief and gratitude she felt after hearing this.

Looking him in the eyes, that familiar magnetism returned. “Thank you.”

:: :: ::

Almost 6 minutes had gone by, and (y/n) was getting nervous.

“What do you think is taking them so long?” (y/n) asked Spencer.

Just as he was about to respond, both radios attached to their vests began to sound. Amidst the harmony of static and beeping, the pair could make out Prentiss’ voice saying. “Bring (y/n) in. I repeat, bring (y/n) in. Slowly.”

(y/n)’s heart sunk. “Fuck.” Was all that she could muster up.

Instinctively, Spencer reached for (y/n)’s hand once more, this time with no plan of letting go. “Hey, it’s okay (y/n). I’ll be right here with you.”

Following his lead, (y/n) could barely feel her legs. Entering the building, she quickly assessed the room. To her left, Morgan and Prentiss had their guns drawn, following their aim, she saw the back of a blonde woman’s head, she was scrabbling around screeching, fighting (y/n)’s father. Through the shock and haze, (y/n) couldn’t really process what was going on entirely. Looking even more to the right, she noticed Lacy, strapped to a chair, with a gag made of cloth surpassing whatever she was trying to say.

This was what it took to break (y/n) out of the daze. Making eye contacted with her missing, presumed dead roommate after days of worrying created a wave of emotion to crash through her. Sobbing, she screamed out “LACY!” Slipping out of Reid’s grasp and running towards her helpless friend.

The commotion between Hotch and the blonde woman halted, “(y/n)! It is just wonderful to see you again.” The familiar voiced drawled.

(y/n) looked towards the woman, instantly noting the large blade dangling between her thumb and finger. Finally, (y/n) made eye contact with the woman. The woman who killed amber. The woman who kidnapped and tortured Lacy. The woman who looked a bit too familiar.

“Sylvia.” (y/n) finally matched a name to that devious smile.

Sylvia chuckled. “Oh, so you DO remember me.”

Of course she did. Sylvia was (y/n)’s old neighbor. A few weeks after moving in, (y/n) had met Sylvia one evening when they both arrived home at the same time. After some introductory small talk, (y/n) was invited in, though she didn’t want to be rude, she had already had such a long day at work and was ready to go to bed. Politely declining, in the following weeks she would see Sylvia every day. It seemed no matter what time (y/n) would come home, Sylvia would be there too. It was then things started to take a turn. Frequently, (y/n)’s power would go out, she’d awake to find her front door was wide open or that a faucet had been left on. She didn’t stay in that apartment for very long.

(y/n) quite literally hadn’t a tear left to shed. “Why are you doing this?” .

Lessening the grip on the blade, Sylvia became once again fixated on (y/n). (y/n) held her gaze, knowing what she was doing.

“All…all I’ve wanted from you, was a friend. I offered you tea. I tried to hang out with you. And what did you do?? YOU TURNED AROUND AND MOVED ACROSS TOWN WITH THOSE TWO BITCHES.” She was screaming now.

Noting the vulnerability. Spencer took the opportunity to kick the blade out of Sylvia’s hand.

“GO!” (y/n) cried as her father roughly grabbed Sylvia’s arms and forced them behind her back. “Don’t you ever even THINK about hurting my daughter ever again.” He threatened, venom spilling from his lips.

Walking her out of the door. (y/n) rushed over to Lacy, along side Prentiss and Reid. Spencer unbound her hands while Prentiss and (y/n) worked on untying the gag. The moment she was released she threw her arms over (y/n) in a roaring sob of relief.

“Oh god, oh god. Thank you.” Lacy cried.

:: :: ::

The paramedics came in to take Lacy away to the hospital. Because of her fragility mentally and physically, no visitors were allowed to go with her for the time being.

Before they knew it, the case was over. It had never felt real.

Back in that SUV with her father, Spencer and Rossi, (y/n) couldn’t help but smile. Lacy was okay.

It was a longer drive back, there was no need to rush. The sun was setting. The highway lines glowed against the purple sky. An orange halo fell onto all of them. Glancing up into the rearview mirror, (y/n) caught Spencer’s eye. He smiled towards her. Her chest fluttered. That was a quiet drive, but none of them seemed to mind.

:: :: ::

FOUR MONTHS LATER

It took about a week and a half for (y/n) to finish moving and unpacking all of the boxes in her new apartment. Though she had garnered some help from her father and Rossi.

On a warm summer Friday, (y/n) had decided to invite the BAU team over for a house-warming dinner party. Of course, her cooking would not be as excellent as Rossi’s homemade Italian cuisine she had come to know and love. Since Sylvia, Hotchner had been a lot more open about bringing (y/n) into the office. She had formed quite a bond with the team members, specifically a certain cardiganned doe eyed genius.

It was 5PM now, 1 hour until she told everyone to come. (y/n) wore sweats as she attempted to makeup her face a little. It was then that the doorbell rang. Jumping up, (y/n) only assumed that it was her father. He was always way too early. Opening the door, she was shocked to see Spencer standing there.

“Oh! Hey Spence.” She invited him in, instantly becoming overly aware of what she was wearing, how she was standing and only having one eyebrow done. Being so fixated on this, she didn’t recognize the unusual nervousness Reid was exhibiting. He rocked back on forth on his feet, not being able to find the right words.

“Hey, uh, sorry I’m so early. I just wanted to talk to you about something real quick before everyone else got here.” He managed to stumble out.

(y/n) nodded for him to continue, feeling slightly worried.

“Do you remember when we first met? On the floor of the bullpen at the BAU?” He posed, somewhat out of nowhere.

(y/n) smiled fondly. “Of course I do, silly.”

“Well,” Reid started up again. “Ever since that morning, I have never been the same.” He stopped abruptly, checking in with (y/n), making sure he wasn’t scaring her.

(y/n)’s heart skipped a beat, “Go on…” She prompted.

“It’s just that, every time I look at you, my brain slows down. All I can think about is you. I don’t even have to be in the same room as you, but If I think of you, which I do often, you’re all I can focus on. At first I thought there was something wrong with me, but then, I realized that this wasn’t a bad thing.”

A small smile found it’s way to (y/n)’s face. Hopefully she was correct about the direction that this was going.

“You see, (y/n), I WANT to only think about you, because when I do, I feel as though the sun is dancing all around me. When we look at each other, It feels like magic. Like the world was made for us to be in the same room. Please, tell me you feel it too.” Reid’s ramblings pause.

Sighing, (y/n) takes a step closer to him. “Well it’s about time you said something. I was worried it was just me.” Her smile widened as did his.

“Thank god.” Spencer quickly muttered, and before she knew it his large hands were on the sides of her face slipping into her hair. The moment their lips connected it were as if lightening had escaped from within them. It was electrifying.

(y/n) and Spencer made their way onto the couch as their hands gripped all over each other.

An electrical storm of love and soul consumed them. Breaking apart only to catch their breath.

Suddenly a loud chime made it’s way from the door. (y/n) shot up straight. “Shit what time is it??”.

Spencer glanced at his watch. “5:58” He reported.

Getting up, she whispered just incase whoever was behind the door had recently acquired super hearing. “Can you get the door? I have to finish getting ready. Also, you should probably fix your hair so you don’t look like we just made out for 40 minutes.” With a wink she left the young agent with a passionate kiss before running off to her room.

Frantically completing her other eyebrow and applying lip gloss, (y/n) slipped on a new sundress. Past the door she could hear a couple of familiar voices. Taking a breath she smoothed out her dress and opened the door.

In her living room, she found a JJ, Garcia, Morgan and her father. While the girls complimented her look, she gave her dad a quick hug as they waited for the rest of the team to arrive.

Emerging from the kitchen with two glasses of water, was an awestruck Reid. He not-so-subtly looked her up and down before shortly clearing his throat and handing her a glass.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think boy wonder had a crush.” Morgan chuckled. Almost everyone found this amusing. However, Hotch’s face didn’t show even a glimmer of amusement.

Brushing it off swiftly, (y/n) and Spencer subconsciously stood a little farther apart than normal.

The night continued on as the rest of the team showed up. At this point, everyone was at the very least a little bit drunk. Some more than others (Prentiss went hard).

While everyone was laughing huddled around the loud kitchen, Spencer took this opportunity to lean and whisper to (y/n). “I like the lipstick.”

(y/n) blushed, something she wasn’t quite used to the feeling of. “It’s a good thing you interrupted me before I had the chance to put it on, otherwise your face may be stained right about now.”

He jokingly rolled his eyes at her as they seamlessly rejoin the conversation.

At the dinner table, the riotous chatter continued, and somewhere, at some point, Spencer and (y/n)’s hands had found their way into each others. Out of sight from everyone else, however nothing else was on their minds.

:: :: :: FIN!!

Taglist: @ilovecriminalmindswithallmyheart @ellvswriting @screechingwagontacoprofessor @l0ve-0f-my-life @where-we-write @etherealgubler @sparklingkeylimepie @eleventhdoctorsangel @tpwksunflower @fandomgirl17 @chims-kookies @malfoys-demigod @thatweirdblonde @daviddobriksleftnut @kingworm @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @pizzarollsfordayz @heckington @ssaic-jareau

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #Aaron hotch #hotchner #Hotch!daughter #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #fanfic #imagine

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arianajbb · 4 years

Text

FIC RECS - 5

💕 rewards by @malfoysstilinski

💕 hogwarts express by @malfoysstilinski

Draco fucks Y/N to prove a point to Harry who he knows is hiding in the storage compartment above, watching the whole thing.

💕 phosphenes by @minty-malfoy

draco finally figures out all the mistakes he’s made to you, harry is determined not to repeat them

💕 What in Carnation? by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

The swim team is holding a flowergram fundraiser for Valentine’s day, and you have a secret admirer.

💕 please don’t take him (even though you can). by @nsfwsebbie

She can have anyone she wants, but you can never love again. Not without him.

💕 his own doing by @fuckingdraco

after draco breaks your heart, a new romance blooms.

💕 x by @dadplease

💕 x by @malfoysstilinski

riding draco’s thigh in the common room.

💕 Interrogation by @lovinglokilaufeyson

After joining Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad, Draco goes to extreme measures to find out more about Dumbledore’s Army. Specifically, through you.

💕 three’s a crowd by @malfoysstilinski

draco and y/n fuck in the common room and when blaise interrupts, draco can’t find it in himself to stop.

💕 Strange Courting Rituals of Reformed Hydra Assassins by @river-soul

Bucky leaves encouraging notes and presents for the depressed reader to brighten her day except everything is written in his creepy serial killer handwriting. Her coworkers are alarmed by the notes like girl this is straight out of a criminal minds episode but Reader thinks it’s sweet.

💕 linger by @buckysbeloved

in which Draco Malfoy wants to be cared for and you want to care for him- yet you only speak through lingering touches and fleeting glances.

💕 The Wedding Date by @river-soul

Reader needs a wedding date to scare off her persistent ex-boyfriend and wants Natasha to come with her. Natasha has another suggestion in mind.

💕 Forever by @donutloverxo

You've been in a secret relationship with Steve for two years. What happens when he tells you he wants to be with you forever?

💕 When I Find You, I'll Find Me by @river-soul

After a 4th of July party at your friend’s house unearths some insecurities on Bucky’s part he suggests you’d be better off without him. You show him just how wrong he is.

💕 3am by @honeysucklesteve

he won’t ever say i love you, but he’ll always fuck you until you can’t stand.

💕 If You Go Down To The Woods Tonight by @badassbuchanan

late night patrols and lonely ladies

💕 Play Dirty by @jurassicbarnes

(Office AU) In which Steve plays dirty in order to make you work late and later you have to play dirty to get Steve to confess his feelings for you.

💕 Dial Tone by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Reader is a phone sex worker who gets a new caller.

💕 Serpentine by @cherienymphe

One night of passion ruins your life forever.

💕 red, white, blue’s in the sky, summer’s in the air, baby heaven’s in your eyes by @cloudystevie

sunday’s are for football games and attention

💕 The Perfect Fit by @amandaoftherosemire

Steve Rogers always seems to be wearing shirts that are way too tight for your peace of mind. One day you get the whole story.

💕 Bulletproof Epilogue by @amandaoftherosemire

You, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes have been the best of friends since middle school. On top of that, you’ve been in love with Bucky pretty much the whole time. Everything changed after the three of you got to college, however. Over the past couple of years you and Steve have become even closer but things between you and Bucky have been strained since the night he broke your heart. Can anything bring you back together?

💕 x by @mypoisonedvine

💕 x by @mxchellesworld

blurb on hate sex with bucky and he’s just really rough and degrading

💕 relentless by @cap-n-stuff

Bucky had enough of your shameless flirting and was going to show you just how much you were his and his alone.

💕 A Fresh Start by @angrythingstarlight

Andy has his perfect family with you, and now he wants more. Whether you want it or not. Andy knows what’s best, he always does.

💕 Know It All by @moonbeambucky

Your grades and patience are tested when you’re paired together for a class project with the one person you cannot stand, Bucky Barnes.

💕 I Can’t Swim by @revengingbarnes

The reader pretends to drown to grab the attention of the hot lifeguard who looks after the beach. Lies don’t last long though, and eventually it backfires.

💕 Captain Jealousy by @nony-bear

You and Steve have been keeping your relationship a secret to avoid public backlash for your age difference. However, after watching Steve flirt with a new agent at one of Tony Stark’s famous parties, your jealousy and frustration come to a head.

💕 Taking Care Of Needs by @badassbuchanan

💕 A Christmas Compromise by @stargazingfangirl18

Even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself, all you wanted for Christmas was Ransom.

💕 Never Leave You Standing Part 1 Part 2 by @thebookwormslytherin

💕 Love Theoretically

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10(Epilogue) <-- (my favourite chapters)

by @mypoisonedvine

having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

💕 Catfish Part 6 by @vampy-doll

💕 x by @mypoisonedvine

💕 x by @thewritingdoll

Bucky and dirty talk

💕 x by @mypoisonedvine

dark!reader x steve rogers high school AU , where R is rich spoil brat & she always had a crush on steve but she always bully him by calling him skinny and all and Then yrs later, time changes her family discarded her from will and she becomes poor and need job, got hired for PA by dark ceo!steve rogers who she bullied her all school life

💕 Just Falling by @indyluckycharlie

A one shot set in 1936. You’re attending art school in New York, and you became fast friends with your classmate Steve. His best friend Bucky though? It took you a little longer to warm up to him given his reputation as a ladies’ man. But now, you’re happy to call him a friend. But nothing more, right?

💕 Golden Hour Daydream by @indyluckycharlie

Set sometime in the 1930s. Just a late afternoon date with your favorite fella.

💕 The Girl In The Diner by @tinymalscoffee

He was just too naive to see how naughty she really was.

💕 attention by @golden-parker

Bucky has been too busy to give you the attention you’re craving, so you take matters into your own hands.

💕 Beg for Daddy by @sweeterthanthis

The thought of your mother passed out next door, the other side of your bedroom wall, did nothing to quell the intense hunger you felt for him.

💕 Take a break by @badassbuchanan

all work and no play makes Y/N a whiny little brat

💕 heavy is the head by @luciilferss

As the princess of the great lands west of the Indigo Sea, you were born with a burning loyalty to protect and serve your people. From war, from famine – from the rebels that terrorize your land. But when an ambush from said insurgents sees you kidnapped, you’re suddenly torn between service to your country and duty to your family – and, maybe, that odd little feeling that’s evoked by the terrifying men the rebels call Captain.

💕 here, kitty kitty by @nsfwsebbie

Your sugar daddy wants his wildest dreams to come to life. You, on the other hand, aren’t really into it.

💕 Angel Baby by @brooklyns-boys

💕 on my tongue by @moteldwelling

‎‎your next door neighbor was going to be the death of you. tall, dark, and ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎handsome - it doesn’t even seem to matter ‎that he’s your dad’s best friend.

💕 Whatever It Takes by @wienerbarnes

The Avengers recruit you, a medical genius of sorts, to help solve the case of an agent who is dying from an unknown illness. You seem to catch Bucky Barnes’ attention.

💕 Hey Neighbour by @moonbeambucky

You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

108 notes · View notes

dadsbongos · 4 years

Text

Mommy Issues

Movie/Game/Show: Umbrella Academy Dynamic: Five Hargreeves/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: you’re a mom of two, maybe might be sad? Summary: Five has to pay a visit to the old lady. ~~~

“Come on,” she held out the can of beans, shaking it around slightly when the boy refused, “You have to eat, Five.”

He shook his head, continuing to mark up the book in his hands, “Too busy.”

“You’re never too busy to fucking eat,” (Y/n) huffed, grabbing the book from his hands and replacing it with the can of beans, “It’ll all be here when you’re done.”

Five pursed his lips but decided to not argue with the woman, “You’re lucky you’re the only person left in this hellhole.”

“How so?” (Y/n) crossed her arms, desperately attempting to hide her starvation, “I get to take care of a little boy?”

“I’m not a little boy, first of all. I’m thirteen, technically a teenager.”

The woman snickered, “What’s your second point?”

Humming through his chewing, Five quirked a brow, gesturing for her to continue.

“You said ‘first of all’,” she shrugged, reaching for the bottle of wine settled amongst the rubble of an old library, “Did you have a second point to bring up?”

When the boy didn’t respond, (Y/n) quietly laughed before looking at the book Five was so focused on since he found it. Extra Ordinary by Vanya Hargreeves, her brows furrowed as she picked it up and began flipping through it. Five nearly choked on his beans, “Careful with that.”

“I will be,” she calmly replied, tone softening at the shared surname between the two, “Was she your mom?”

Five shook his head, taking the book back, “Sister.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” (Y/n) forced on a smile, reaching into her tattered pants’ pocket, “If it’s any consolation, I lost some people too.”

Just as he went to retort, a picture of two children was forced into his hand. A boy his age and a much younger girl, and suddenly he regretted every time he mockingly called her mom. Her sad smile was still painted on her lips as realization sunk its claws into Five, “Your kids?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, sitting up straight, “I took all the pictures in the house before packing up.”

“Since we’re learning about each other,” he held out Vanya’s book, “I think you should read this.”

(Y/n) nodded, opening up to the first page, “If you want, for whatever weird reason is in your genius brain, you can keep the picture. I have a lot.”

“Thanks,” he pressed the photo into his blazer pocket, “you can’t keep the book. I want that back when you’re done and don’t write in it.”

“Naturally.”

Silence broke over the pair until (Y/n) spoke again, much quieter than before.

“What?”

“Stop zoning out, creeper,” she ruffled his hair.

“Don’t baby me, (Y/n),” the thirteen-year-old boy snapped, still clutching his mannequin companion to his scrawny body.

In response, the woman rolled her eyes, “I’ll baby you all I want, Five, because in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a wasteland and I’m the only adult alive.”

“So far,” the boy glared, “There could be some lonely Australian man across the ocean and we have no clue.”

She shook her head, “Well until we find him, I’m still going to baby you - because that’s what you are to me. A little baby in need of mothering.”

Five grumbled under his breath, “You’re more annoying than anything else at this point.”

(Y/n) didn’t verbally reply, only pulling up the scarf acting as the boy’s mask before continuing down the road. She turned when Five didn’t follow, nudging her head down the way, “Come on, I think there's a wagon we could find to carry supplies!”

A wagon there was, but only one. At least at that point. The grown woman huffed while looking around, “Put Dolores in, you’re rolling the thing with you.”

“What?” Five looked up at her, “But you’re the adult, aren’t you?”

“Which means I get to tell you to roll it around.”

The wagon would go to him then. The boy.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Five’s brows furrowed as he walked, lugging the dirtied thing behind him, “What are you talking about now, (Y/n)?”

She simply stared at him, a blank, empty stare, “What are you thinking about?”

Her eyes made him nervous now, they were devoid of any kindness and warmth they usually held when looking at him. Less like a loving mother-figure and more like the mannequin he held close at night. But even Dolores smiled every so often.

“Five!” she suddenly shouted, no longer walking. She rushed over, grabbing his shoulders, “Five!”

There were no hands on his shoulders, just the old, wrinkled one between his own hands. He blinked a few times, shaking his head before looking down to the elderly woman on the floor, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“As spacey as ever,” (Y/n) chuckled dryly, coughing a few times between the laughter, “I asked what you were thinking about.”

“Oh, nothing much,” he lied easily enough, “Just how much I’ll enjoy you not bossing me around.”

The dying woman shook her head, using what little strength she had to smack his arm, “You’ve been a rude little boy since we met.”

“Well,” he shrugged, letting a soft silence fill the heated air, rubbing his thumb over the weathered bones in this old woman’s hand, “What about you? What are you thinking about?”

“My kids,” she smiled faintly, “I’m excited to see them again.”

Little Joan and Lacy, he’d heard about them countless times. Joan was about his age when the pair first met after the Apocalypse, dark hair and light eyes with freckles spread across his cheeks. Lacy was on the younger scale with little curls sprouting from her head and brown eyes like honey pots with a birthmark right on her forehead. Adorable kids, from what few pictures survived the fall of humanity.

“I wish I could’ve met them,” he grinned down at the faint woman.

(Y/n) nodded weakly, eyes fluttering shut every now and again, “You three would’ve been so cute together. Them trying to make you smile and you just being grumpy; like something out of a sitcom.”

Five’s eyebrows rose at the sentence, “Now I’m not so sure.”

“Stop,” she wheezed, patting at her chest, “You would’ve loved them…” it was quiet for a few more moments, “I’m worried about you too, you know? Being all alone after so long, I don’t want you to go completely crazy.”

“I won’t be alone,” he attempted to reassure, nodding towards their plastic friend, “I have Dolores, don’t I?”

“God, don’t get me started on that…”

“I really will be fine,” he gripped her hand a little tighter, “Don’t be worrying about me, I can handle myself, old lady.”

“One day you’ll be an old man, and then who’ll be laughing? Me, from the afterlife.”

Five wouldn’t admit it, but the thought of (Y/n) still being somewhat around comforted him, “I’ll be counting on it.”

“Better be.”

. . .

Five rubbed at his temples, stopping the Apocalypse built up a headache worse than surviving it. He pushed the doors to Griddy’s open, not having had one of their coffees since his first night into the present. He slid onto a stool at the counter, giving Agnes a nod when she waved at him.

Agnes went into the back and after a few murmurs, he assumed a new waitress would be serving him.

Looking to the right, two familiar faces came into view. His eyes widened, hands fumbling for the photo in his blazer pocket. After (Y/n) died he made a habit of keeping it around; felt wrong to go without it. He looked between the picture to the children.

The doors from the back opened up and a painfully familiar woman stepped through. She smiled at two kids, ruffling the boy’s dark hair and pinching at the girl’s cheek before going over to Five.

(Y/n) shot him a grin, pulling a pad of paper from her uniform, “What can I get you today?”

Five didn’t answer immediately, stare fixated on the living, breathing, not-dead woman in front of him. Unlike in their years together, her skin was less dirt-covered, hands less crusted in ash and soil, hair more well-kept. She seemed healthy, happy. After realizing he was staring for far too long, he cleared his throat, pocketing the photo, “Sorry, I’ll have a coffee. Black.”

“No donuts?” she teased, “I know they’re not top-of-the-line, but I never miss an opportunity to snag a few for my kids,” she pointed her pen in the kids’ direction.

“Well, I suppose I could get…” he looked over the menu before continuing, “a lemon jelly donut.”

(Y/n) wrote down the order, “Funny, that’s my son’s favorite.”

“What a coincidence,” of course, he knew that. He knew it fifty times over.

Nodding, she tore off the paper before walking towards the back, stopping at the two kids. The tiny glances from both child in his direction made it obvious he had been mentioned. Giving Joan and Lacy each a kiss on the forehead, (Y/n) made her way to the back kitchen.

Lacy looked between her older brother and the strange boy before getting down from her stool and skipping over to the brunette. She gave him a broad, pearly smile, “Hi.”

Five smiled slightly, turning in his seat to look at the girl properly, “Hello.”

Joan followed after his sister, smiling apologetically to the boy about his age while taking the girl’s hand, “I’m sorry about her.”

“No, she’s fine,” he waved off the other boy’s sympathies, “She's pretty adorable.”

(Y/n) returned from the back, carefully setting down the steaming coffee followed by Five’s donut, “Hope my kids aren’t bothering you. They like making friends with the customers.”

He shook his head, “Not a problem.”

Joan slid onto the stool beside Five, holding his baby sister in his lap, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Five nodded slowly, wrapping both hands around his warm cup, already feeling his headache begin to dissipate, “I used to come here a lot when I was younger.”

#tua #The Umbrella Academy #five hargeeves #five hargreeves x reader platonic #just founds out i'm allergic to my face scrub because nobody wanted to tell me it's not normal for my skin to turn red flaky and hurt #pretty t'd off about it ngl

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years

Note

What type of kids do you think the ikevamp guys would be if they went to high school?

Oh boy HERE WE GO

(Under a cut bc this post is a Long Boi^TM)

Napoleon. Would prbly be that kid that’s like somehow bafflingly in the top ten of his class but nobody ever sees him??? Like he’s always late to school or napping in the quietest places on campus (they found him in a locker once and the school was laughing about it for WEEKS bc he insisted he was just chillin, and it wasn’t like a bullying incident he just wanted to sleep LMAO). Surprisingly amiable? A lot of people are afraid of him at first but he’s just so casual and direct, he gains quite a few friends (and a good number of girls have a crush on him--he always diverts the attention of skeevy guys). Good friends with Jeanne because they fence together a lot, and people are always baffled at how easily they chat

Mozart. Where do I begin. Number one in his class, perfectionist prick. That one kid that’s a known prodigy and that everyone hates for his impeccable grades and musical talent. Always gets the solos and conducting roles in the school performances. He knows how to play a crowd--will always be sweet and cherubic in front of teachers. But when it’s just the students? All gloves are off. Frigid and incendiary, will not take any shit and will tear you apart with words in milliseconds. Do not cross. He will end your entire life and self-esteem, it’s not worth it. Has a few friends, and they often experience the disdain of jealous students--but they’re all steadfast about defending him. And Mozart will not tolerate it if people are mistreating his friends, he’s an iron wall of defense; to be his friend means to always have someone looking out for you, make no mistake. He and Jeanne often grab food together after practice and ask about each others day, they hella close but never really show it while school’s on--their class schedules are worlds apart bc of their grades, and at lunch they’re usually practicing/doing hw. When they hug it out at graduation and pat each other on the back everyone nearly falls the fuck out of their chair LMFAO

Leonardo. That kid that 100% could probably be in the top fifty of his class but just can’t be bothered to give a damn. Always argues points with his teachers and plays devil’s advocate until they are inches from exploding at him. Always the one to mercifully make class feel shorter with his absolute distraction-heavy shitfuckery (and sometimes you really learn something because of his line of thinking). He's a dumbass but like harmless, essentially. Used to be the perfect student^TM and then decided the system was bullshit and he wanted no part of it, thinks public education can kiss his ass. Nobody knows it since he asks people not to talk about it, but he tutors kids after school for hours--has brought kids from Ds to Bs. He always dodges nosy people, never goes to parties, and finds ways to intervene around kids that are struggling with smth (with ninja stealth of course). Despite how easily he laughs and chats with just about anyone, he’s...actually surprisingly v much a lone wolf. Only ever consistently hangs out with the heartthrob rich kid, but nobody understands why???? And they’re always roasting each other wtf, are they even friends????

Comte. Pretty boy genius, always in the top five of his class though doesn’t seem too worried about it or obsessed with rank as students often are. It’s more that his parents have high expectations for his future as their heir, so he tends to fall in line with it. Born into money but somehow....not an asshole??? He doesn’t really like showing off, tries to be quiet about his accomplishments but his parents won’t really allow it--and he’s the star of the soccer team so it can be hard to hide. Most often the one at a party trying to help people sober up (always designated driver) or hearing his friends out when they have a problem. Has never publicly tried to bust heads, but some of the guys in the school insist he’s got a dark side--probably because he threatened them (passive aggressively) within an inch of their lives for being disgusting to girls. But nobody believes them bc...I mean look at him, does that look like a threat?? He just bought that kid’s lunch for christ’s sake. TONS of girls ask him out and confess their feelings, and he always lets them down as gently as he can--conceivably doesn’t like anyone himself, as far as the student body knows. Like Leonardo he’s v amiable, but also manages to reveal nothing personal while getting close. Leonardo’s the only one that’s managed to scratch the surface, and the kid won’t leave him alone for some godforsaken reason. And yet, he seems to enjoy their minutes of banter more than the hours of time spent with “friends”

Arthur. Oh boy. Good lord. Well. He used to be a sweetheart that would always seek out the mousier students and bring them into discussion/involve them on the playground. But alas, Teenage Jadedness^TM hit him like a train and now he’s an incorrigible flirt and believes no single person can be good deep down (somebody get this bitch some eyeliner). Believes the world will always be a cruel and unfeeling place where victims are never heard, so he just kind of goes full skeptical and bitter (think Sylvain for those of you that are FE fans). Has fun with every girl he sees (usually dating several girls at once) and doesn’t much care for his grades, but somehow has perfect scores in English?? He insists it’s because he needs to keep his seduction game on par with the voices of older legends before him, but some of the girls that see him in the library from time to time--v serious--are struck by how attractive he is in such deep focus, entirely uncharacteristic of his nosy and boisterous behavior in the halls (can often be seen whirling around Isaac like a bird of prey while our little baby robin Isaac stiffly tries to get away from him, and Dazai often joins to make things even more chaotic bc why not? In reality they just love this feisty kid that never gives up on what’s right, even though they’ve both given up trying themselves)

Dazai. He’s one of those kids that like does weed regularly but is also like...alarmingly insightful?? Like those kids I was always told to avoid, but now and again I would have conversations with out of necessity and was just...kinda shook. I mean granted he’s a little weird but he’s fairly harmless?? He’s like a class clown but on a massive scale--there’s nobody in the place that doesn’t know who he is, that haven’t heard tales of his exploits (he always comes in through the windows and gets detention for it a lot, and he even brought a chicken with him to school once????) nobody gets what he’s doing at any moment (don’t even know if he does really, chaotic mofo) and honestly nobody wants to know they just do the side eye meme when he appears or laughs. The teachers lament his untapped potential or just hate him for making their lives an even bigger headache than usual, and his grades are...yeah let’s not look at those. Organized the senior prank with absolute GLEE, and it was talked about for ages after he was gone--an inspiration chaotic bastards everywhere

Theodorus. (I hate.......that I pictured him in those like Vineyard Vine white boy clothes.......for the record its mostly bc his parents force him to wear them). All business. This kid doesn’t have time for your bullshit, will absolutely walk away if you’re boring him or seeking social clout. Popular because he’s hot and has a mean streak a mile wide, all the girls that didn’t like Mozart for being ethereal and effeminate boomeranged to find Theo ready to fulfill their hopes and dreams. They only grow more feral when rumors of him actually being fairly nice one on one--and telling creeps to fuck off of vulnerable girls at parties--start to circulate. (If he isn’t with Vincent, Arthur is probably near. Nobody understands how the two are brothers????) Van Gogh name apparently is just “I can be your angel or i can be your devil” and no one understands how... Grades are average and he’s plenty capable, most of his time is spent working after school because his parents refuse to provide Vincent with any artistic materials (canvas, paints, etc). They ask him to go to parties more, but he only goes to piss his parents off (he’s v lowkey punk and it’s understandably sexy of him). Will literally only listen to Vincent, and got in a looooot of trouble after getting into a fistfight with Shakespeare. Only stopped because his parents blamed Vincent for the incident, and Vincent apologized and went quiet for days ;-;

Vincent. Always been quiet and shy, but he doesn’t dislike ppl--he just has a hard time speaking up now and again. His parents always talk over him and tell him nothing he has to say has any real value, so he tends to struggle with a lot of self-doubt. Not isolated because he’s not likeable, it’s more because people tend to take advantage of his mild and earnest nature--until Theo runs them off. He’s on amiable terms with most people but has no real, true friends and it makes him feel lonely a lot. Mostly copes with the emotional turmoil by painting as much as he can. His grades are average, he does reliably well but can often be found daydreaming or distracted. Theo tends to escort him everywhere because of his propensity to attract danger (namely Shakespeare) or walk into things cuz he’s in his head a lot. A few of the artsier girls and the quiet academic girls have HUGE crushes on him (he’s softspoken, sweet, and calm; come on now), but he’s so distant--and honestly nice to everyone in equal measure--that they don’t have much hope of it coming to fruition. This kid deadass doesn’t think a single girl would ever like him that way so he’s just c:???????? when Theo talks about “those nosy harpies coming after my brother”

Jeanne. EDGY MCEDGE. Isn’t amazing in the academic department, but he’s a killer fencer--the rallying cry of the entire team. He became leader his sophomore year and he’s pretty much the only reason they keep destroying at tournaments throughout the year. Despite the pervasive interest in him he intimidates most people away with his swift intensity and ironclad stoicism. Silent as a grave and very still, people are convinced he’s the Grim Reaper reincarnated (listen he’s juST A DUTIFUL BABIE N O). If he isn’t fencing or practicing, Isaac often offers him help in the library after school hours in one of the study rooms (can’t be seen who’s inside from the outside). The two develop a kind of uncanny bond; they’re both so...bad at human-ing that they find a lot of comfort in the atmosphere they create. There’s none of the bullshit grandstanding or clout obsession, just them genuinely trying to help each other (yes Jeanne absolutely teaches Isaac self-defense moves in order to crush the kids that pick on him, and Jeanne often either glares or outright threatens those students when Isaac isn’t looking). Only ever smiles or feels understood when he’s hanging out with Mozart, so he cherishes the time Mozart offers him to hang (he knows the kid is busy up to his eyeballs and under a ton of pressure by comparison, his parents don’t care much as long as they can brag about his fencing records)

Isaac. Mega nerd that just...does not know how to interact. Only understands math and DESTROYS in competitive math club, but otherwise is always alone at lunch or just in the library. A little bean pole because he doesn’t look after himself very well (neglects to eat a lot) and can sometimes be found asleep on his books. If approached he will be very thorny, doesn’t have any friends to speak of and trusts everyone about as far as he can throw them. Yells at Arthur and Dazai a lot when they flock around him, and has gotten into his fair share of fights. Never starts fights, but will finish them. People are surprised he can hold his own, and he comes away with blood that ain’t his. There are a few girls that are curious about him, but its mostly the ones that have seen his awkward thoughtfulness in club--or the girls that are sick of the assholes and appreciate how stalwart he is. He really just wants to be left in peace (his parents never show up to his meets or when he wins academic awards, and the few teachers that notice are pretty concerned abt his reactivity and complete lack of social savvy...) Leonardo always helps him sneak in at night to look at the stars on the school roof

Shakespeare is p much the like “kid most anticipated to be in jail as soon as they’re out of high school” He just. Has that like...serial killer vibe??? Idk if I’m explaining this well but he was that guy that would always cling to genuinely compassionate girls just trying to be nice like a LEECH, and would never fucking shut up if he did or didn’t get attention. You just can't win with this kid. Probably wanted to kill the kids that made fun of him or at the very least wanted to lash out against the confident/popular/nice kids. Only liked you if he didn’t deem you a threat, or if you didn’t make him insecure, or if you tolerated him (aka Vincent. Vincent PLEASE stop trying to reach out to dangerous ppl....I love you too much to watch this shit...) He admitted as much to Theo and the kid went livid with rage and pummeled him into the ground, though most of the rest of the student body doesn’t know quite what happened. (Theo refuses to explain to anyone, and just walks away if asked). Shakespeare will just change the subject endlessly and make passive aggressive threats until the person leaves if they try to bring it up. The only time the entire class has EVER seen Leonardo mad is when Shakespeare kept tailing this girl that wanted no part of him

Sebastian. Nerdy like Isaac, but is more of the silent observer type. Like Theo, doesn't want any part of the bullshit but won't be as blunt or outspoken about it, he's only open about it if pressed or pissed off. Doesn't have much patience for the clique-driven nature of high school and tends to take an interest in the people who stand out beyond the mind-numbing drama. Also is in the top fifty but studies like a lunatic, and can often be seen asking Comte for tips now and again. Has tried talking to Mozart and admires his talents, but Mozart gives a cold shoulder that would put Antarctica to shame. (Leonardo tries to ninja him into taking breaks but never succeeds). Has a great deal of disdain for the troublemakers (Arthur and Dazai) but doesn't intervene, just watches shit go down and sighs. Probably the most normal(?) one of the bunch, just does his best and keeps his head down

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softowlhours · 4 years

Text

by the lakeside

bokuto koutarou(horror!AU)

it should’ve been the perfect summer getaway. you were both in need of some down time away from your busy careers. but things get a little eerie when there’s a voice in your head that isn’t yours and you find out that you’re not alone in that pristine white house on the hill.

genre: horror, angst, fluff if you squint

tw: descriptions of drowning, asphyxiation, strangulation. suggestive sexual situations.

a/n: i promise i’ll proofread this later and also write an epilogue but until then please enjoy this story it took me way longer than necessary to write. i’ve read it so many times that i don’t find it scary anymore. but i hope you do! :)

word count: 6k

my body feels like an empty shell sometimes, a carcass I am dragging around. when I look into the mirror I don’t recognise myself. i don’t recognise him, either.

∷ ∷ ∷ ∷

bokuto’s hair gleams silver in the glorious morning light. wind blows through your own strands as you zip past the lush green meadows. you could see the sheep dotted on the grassy planes like puffs of pure white clouds. far away, there stood giant mountains. their high peaks looked like they were breaching the baby blue ceiling of the sky. you only notice your gorgeous surroundings with half a mind, because your eyes keep trailing back to the man besides you. you admire his profile, the sharp slope of his nose, the chiselled cheek bones and jaw line. you zero in on the plush of his lips and it is then that you notice his teasing grin.

‘admiring the view?’ he asks.

‘mhmm. a sight for my sore eyes.’ and he truly is. your gaze drops a little lower. his toned chest peeks from where the buttons of his shirt have come undone. his biceps flex and strain against the fabric as he manoeuvres the steering wheel. he looks like a movie star, straight out of the golden age of film. the red vintage convertible he drives only adds on to your day dream. you can’t help but feel like a heroine starring in your own block buster romance. heat rises to the tip of his ears and the back of his neck at your shameless appraisal. bokuto notices the way lust is barely concealed on your face. he fucking loved the way you looked at him, like he was the guiding star you were always attuned to. the one for whom you’d always search for in an endless night sky.

‘your eyes are sore from staring at your computer screen all day everyday.’ he ignores your attempts at flirting, and instead addresses what has been eating away at his mind lately. he’s been worried about you. you often called him out for pushing himself to the point of breaking when it came to volleyball. but, you never noticed how you were inclined to do the same when it came to you own work; buried under papers and ink, day after day as your work ethic kept you confined to your study room. you being a best selling author, him a pro volleyball player; you truly were the power couple worthy of everyone’s envy and admiration, but your lives could get stressful at times.

‘kou, I’m sorry ‘m dragging you away from your routine. the game season starts in two months. you should be hitting some balls right now.’ you withdraw your hand, and he instantly misses your touch. you appear a little crestfallen as you opt to idly fiddle with the lace bordering your sundress.

‘hey,’ his voice is silky, tone slightly chastising. ‘don’t apologise. this was my idea anyways. we need some time away. from everything.’

‘you know that,’ he continues, ‘i’ll never be too busy for you, right? it makes me feel lonely when you just withdraw from me... shut me out.’ his face eyebrows furrow a little. ‘for you I’ll always carve out time.’

bokuto had a way with words that always left you stupefied. they weren’t embellished and gaudy, like yours. all you ever did was spin fairy tales. Yes they were beautiful, but they were also false. unlike you, he always spoke from his heart, and you wonder if that was why his sentiments without fail reached others.

‘oi- don’t fall asleep.’

‘i’m not sleeping!’ you snap out of your reverie. ‘i’m sorry i… never realised you’d feel that way’ puffing out a sigh, you lean back lazily on the leather seat. ‘i haven’t been feeling much inspiration lately, and when i do write i just hate every word of it.’

‘maybe I should retire,’ you muse. ‘never write a word again. let people remember me as the genius author I’m not.’

‘but you are a genius writer!’ bokuto insists. ‘give it a fifty years and they’ll be teaching your work as a part of the curriculum. i’ve never read anything better!’

‘that’s because you rarely read!’

‘i am a picky reader,’ bokuto shrugs, cocking an eyebrow as he looks at you haughtily. ‘so congratulations that your writing actually piqued my interest.’

snorting, you pinch his thigh.

∷ ∷ ∷ ∷

it’s almost evening by the time you drive past a small sleepy town. the few houses have their curtains drawn. there’s a small supermarket and a polyclinic but you notice how the streets are mainly empty, save for a couple of children who play seven tiles on the roadside. fifteen minutes and more grassy meadows and sheep later, you arrive at what looks like the edge of the world. surely you’re being a little dramatic calling it that, but the road winds up the gentle slope of a hill and on top of it sits a pristine white house. bokuto pulls up the car in front of massive wrought iron gates, a chain holds it shut.

‘okay, but when nori said ‘vacation home’, this is not what I had in mind. Is he actually the heir to a conglomerate or something?’ you observe, definitely appalled.

‘uh- knowing his stingy ass, i’m not sure?’ bokuto sounds and looks puzzled as well, so you know he wasn’t expecting it either. he reconfirms the address konoha had messaged him. ‘do we climb the gates? because he never gave me a key or anything. he said the place has a caretaker who’d-’

‘how can I help?’

your heart leaps to your throat, and both you and bokuto snap your heads to your left to look at a man who stands on bokuto’s side of the car. neither of you had seen him approaching and it was as if he were a magician, materialising out of thin air. old, sinewy and dressed sharply in a suit, he’s hunching to be at your eye levels. upon closer look the fabric of his clothes looked worn out and they fray at the edges. his hair is slicked back and he wears gold rimmed spectacles, its lenses the shape of half moons. his smile is serene, demeanour dignified but there’s shrewdness in his tone.

‘um- hi.’ bokuto greets recovering first. ‘i am konoha’s friend. i assume you’ve been expecting us?’

a beat passes.

‘indeed. allow me to show you around.’

bokuto parks the car under a shed close to the gates and you walk down the stretch of the garden. it is immaculately kept, and roses of all colours bloom neatly in rows. a giant sycamore tree stands close to the house, its branches brushing the roof. when you stand on the porch of the house the gate seems miles away. bokuto wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close to his side. he sneaks a soft kiss under your left ear as the caretaker opens up the door for you.

the inside of the house is splendidly furnished and it leaves you awestruck. simple but gorgeous, a modern castle of sorts. a cream colored leather sofa sits in the centre of the living room, the rug in front of it is white and fluffy. There is a box television- the kinds popular decades ago, and you wonder if it actually works or if it’s just for show. the chandelier above is a million crystals and an open kitchen makes up the far end of the living room. a stair case winds its way up. but, what truly catches your eye are the massive french doors which open up to the stretch of a green lawn. calling it a backyard would be a bit inadequate; for the trimmed grass meets the surface of a great lake, its water like molten lava reflecting the evening sky. you can see the outline of ducks waddling away, probably on their way home. the lake stretches out for almost a mile and after that you see nothing but the thicket of the woods. it is almost the end of july, so while the days are warm, the temperatures tend to dip quite a bit at night. you shiver a little and snuggle closer into bokuto’s side. the caretaker, in his monotonous voice, explains to you how your room shall be upstairs, the one to the right. there were four other rooms which were mostly empty and locked for the sake of easy maintenance. you tune him out when he moves on to the instructions regarding the heating and locking systems.

you’re entranced by the house, and standing there in its magnanimity you feel like you’ve been drawn into a picture book. you can imagine breakfasts every morning on the front porch. afternoons spent lolling on the grass besides the lake. you would keep a vase filled with freshly cut roses from the garden, in the centre of the kitchen table. spend the nights sitting in front of the fire place when winter laid its thick blanket of white snow outside. your high flying careers felt like a distant dream. your laptop back home could collect all the dust it wanted to. you could just stay here forever wrapped up in each others arms.

i’m lonely. i hate how you’re always away from home because of volleyball.

bokuto notices your distant look , the slightest way your lips are set in a grimace. it tugs on his heartstrings. makes it difficult for him to breathe.

bringing his mouth close to your ear, he whispers your name bringing you out of your head. you blink, biting back the ugly realisation that had just intruded your brain. you had never felt that way before, you had forced yourself not to. it was long ago when you had decided that you’d never make him choose between you and volleyball. or maybe that loneliness was something you’d always felt. but because you were afraid of it; you had hidden it under your skin, in between your bones.

if i could, i’d steal you away and keep you all to myself. in a cage just for me and you.

too afraid that he’ll somehow read your mind, you step away from him, disoriented by the venomous voice of your subconscious as you look around for the old man.

‘he left while you were zoning out, princess. said he’s going home.’ he pulls your back against his chest, long fingers begin snaking up a well known trail up your thighs. your cute little sundress does little to stop him. ‘he’ll be back by noon tomorrow, to tend to the garden and all that.’ bokuto speaks in between the kisses he’s placing along the side of your neck. ‘apparently, he lives in that town we drove by earlier.’

‘mhmm.’

‘want to live in a house like this someday.’ he asks you, his voice hushed. you rest your head back on his chest, as love and lust pools in your stomach and clouds your thoughts.

i’m scared someday you’ll leave me behind.

“me. you. maybe a dog. maybe… children?” he continues and your eyes widen at that.

‘you want all that?’

‘with you? yes I want everything. i’ll take everything that you can give me.’

liar.

you turn around and pull bokuto into a heated kiss. his chapped lips meld into yours and your teeth clack a little from the suddenness of your movement. by now it is completely dark outside and the living room is dimly lit by a lamp. bokuto seems unaware, too lost in you to be notice space and time. but, a weird sensation surrounds you. you feel the whisper of a cool breeze, a murmur disturbing the stillness of the house. with one hand, bokuto cups your behind. the fingers of his other rake through your hair. it’s a buzz now, like a thousand bees hovering over your heads. you feel dazed, you’re needy, you’re confused.

there’s someone else here. the two of you are not alone.

‘ow,’ you yelp in pain.

bokuto jumps away from you, but his hands are badly tangled in your hair.

‘I told you to tie your hair in the car!’ he is laughing. ‘it’s a nest in here!’

the buzzing dies down. the silence that follows is deafening. you wonder if you’re delusional with the lack of sleep.

as bokuto carefully weaves his fingers out he places a chaste kiss on the little crease in between your eyebrows. he finds you so cute, it physically hurts him.

‘don’t worry, babygirl,’ his voice drops a few octaves. ‘windswept looks sexy on you.’

∷ ∷ ∷ ∷

later that night as you are lie under the drapes and canopies, you notice how the bedroom is much like the rest of the house- fit for royalty. bokuto snores softly, but you lie awake with your head on his chest. his heartbeat is a mind-numbing rhythm. a thin sheet of sweat covers your bodies and you try to ignore the wetness in between your legs. you should probably change the sheets as well, but your body refuses to move and you don’t know where to find any new ones. sleep evades you so you let Bokuto’s question roll around in your mind. a forever with him. of course you would say yes. there was nothing more that you wanted than that. but the dread from earlier which you had managed to keep at bay with lust, slowly begins to resettle in the pit of your stomach.

he promises you an eternity now, but he’ll leave you behind soon.

you somehow clamber out of bed, making sure not to awaken bokuto. picking up his shirt from where it lies on floor, you put it on. the bedroom has identical doors from the living room, made of glass, and they open onto a small balcony. you draw open the lacey curtains and step out into the chilly night air. the sight that awaits you makes you gasp. a fine mist rolls over the water, but the lake itself is still. its surface is like taut cellophane. beyond the lake where the woods begin, it is pitch black darkness and you cannot tell where the woods meet the moonless sky. it’s a new moon night, but where you expect to see the stars is an empty hollowness. its eerily silent. too silent. no insects trill. no wind blows. you stare intently into the water for so long that you swear you see something lurking just underneath its surface. the mist that hovers slowly inches towards the house, coiling like endless bony fingers.

that pool of velvety darkness, i wonder what it’d feel like against my skin.

come to me then. feel it for yourself. your voice, no, her voice purrs.

you whirl around to see bokuto. he’s standing a feet away from you, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

‘whoah! easy,’ bokuto exclaims, surprised by your jumpiness. no way it had been him who had spoken moments ago. ‘what are you doing outside?’ he asks. ‘i nearly got a heart attack when I saw someone standing out here.’

you look back towards the lake, and you’re utterly confused. the mist seems to have instantly vanished. you can even hear the water now, softly undulating. it appears akin to a creased sheet of silk.

had you been hallucinating? dreaming with your eyes open?

you fight down the growing panic and instead walk over to him, squishing his cheeks. you softly kiss his pout. ‘aww. baby’s scared?’ you coo.

he grumbles something about you catching a cold but tugs you inside and you decide to let it all go. you’re tired and tomorrow will be a new day.

had you turned around, you’d notice how the stars were glittering like cold hard gems in the night sky.

∷ ∷ ∷ ∷

you were pleasantly lazing about in the sun. the lake was a glittering blue and the woods looked benign during the day. they weren’t as dense as they appeared to be in the absence of light. from where you lay, the house looks like an entity of its own. imposing and regal. bokuto is dressed casually in a t-shirt and sweatpants as he plays around witha volleyball, tossing and spiking it all by his lonely self. you didn’t remember seeing him pack a volleyball, but then again somehow he always seemed to miraculously have a one at his disposal. today, he hasn’t gelled his hair up in its usual style, so it flops onto his forehead in a way you wished he’d leave it more often.

‘y/n! nice receive!’ he hollers at you.

he spikes the ball aiming straight for your stomach and you somehow manage to block his assault. thank god he hadn’t used a quarter of the strength he usually puts into his spikes.

your strong and annoying man.

‘you trying to murder me or what?’

he pulls you up to your feet. ‘i’ll be teaching you how to spike, drama queen. it’s insane how you’ve been with me for all these years and haven’t learnt a thing or two about volleyball. people would die for a one on one training session with me.’ he brags as he fetches the ball from where it had rolled off to.

you try to copy his motions, but what he can effortlessly pull off is an impossible feat for you. you send the ball upwards and jump as you try to match your timing to spike it. but before you can hit the ball it lands on your head.

bokuto is losing his shit, doubling over with laughter. and you try to look angry but end up giggling with him.

‘i give up!’ you complain. plus my boobs jiggle since i’m not wearing a sports bra,’

‘babe, thats kinda the point!’ he beams.

a perfect spike lands on his face.

‘owww, that’s foul play, y/n! ’ he yells. rubbing his nose, he walks over to you.

‘you should be punished!’ he scolds you, but places a kiss on your temple. his hands wander downwards to unzip your dress. he lets it fall to the ground. you know where this is headed. you think he’s going to kiss you so you close your eyes and lean towards him but before you can react, he’s bending down and suddenly you’re being lifted. he has you over his shoulders and your peals of laughter warm his heart. he hadn’t heard that sound in a while.

bokuto marches straight into the lake and dumps you in. the water is cool and refreshing, just as you had imagined it. it’s shallow enough so you’re chest deep in the water when your feet are planted at the bottom. his body glistens with dampness, hair a floppy wet mess. he was so beautiful, that even though it was irrational you felt a little bit shy. you’re splashing each other with water, the atmosphere’s light and bubbly with amusement. bokuto tries to catch you but you slip out of his reach. he is being his loud and dramatic self as he falls face down into the water, complaining as he comes up with his eyes screwed shut.

‘i swear i’d rather be blinded by your beauty than this water.’

you shake you head, feigning disdain and then you’re swimming away from him, towards the safety of the house. it must almost be noon, and you vaguely remember its time for the care taker to come around. you did not want to be seen in your wet underwear. bokuto calls out to you, apologising. there is water in your ears, it laps all around you as you swim. it dulls all sound and every other sense until the only thing you hear is your thumping heart. when you come up for air, you can see the blue sky, when your face is in the water you can see the stones and pebbles littering the bottom.

but, when you come up for air again, the sky is overcast. laden with dense gray clouds.

the water runs icy, lead flows through your veins. your body is sinking like a ship. it feels like you’re trying to move through viscous jelly. when you try to pull up for air you cannot break through, the surface traps you like its the cellophane you remember seeing the night before. a tight grip on your waist, abruptly pulls you under. your flailing hands try to grasp at nothing in particular. you wonder if its bokuto just messing around, but you know it isn’t. you don’t feel his presence anywhere. your fingers suddenly entangle into something. your eyes burn when you try to open them and look. jet black strands of hair, a bone white face, a mouth that is open like a gaping wound. you scream and nothing but gurgles and air bubbles escape you. you try to pull back but your hands are stuck in the weedlike hair. Funny you think of the evening before, when bokuto’s fingers had entangled in your messy hair the same way.

‘kou…koutaro!’ you try calling for him. you hear your disembodied voice, feel the water flood your mouth, your nose. but you feel all alone with that woman straight out of nightmares. fear has you in its grip, your minds a mush.

you hate him so damn much. you hate him, you hate him, you HATE him. a voice repeats the same words in your head. you wonder if it sounds like your own or someone else’s. you cannot tell the two apart.

you feel a hand wrap around your arm, its large and warm and it feels like home. as it drags you out of the water the ashen face seems to quiver and distort. her eyes flicker open. they roll in their sockets but when they fixate on you, you see eyes just like your own. but they are transparent like marbles; burning with betrayal and accusation.

∷ ∷ ∷ ∷

you wake up with a start to screams piercing the air. they are shrill and blood curdling. your hands are on your ears as you try to block out the sound but it only gets louder. it takes you a moment to realise that the screaming had been you. bokuto holds you in his arms, you can feel him shaking underneath your palms that grapple at his back.

he’s crying.

no! why is your bokuto crying? you pull away a little just enough to look at him, but the way his features are twisted in melancholy punctures a hole through your heart.

‘y/n, babe… babe,’ his lips quiver stealing away speech but he forces himself to speak. ‘ i looked everywhere in the water but I couldn’t find you. you were swimming and then you just stopped. i thought you were fooling around but you were down there for too long. so i come over but... I couldn’t see you anywhere at first. i panicked! holy shit... i was panicking.’ he shifts away from you, an arms length away. leaning back on the sofa, he stares up at the ceiling. ‘You weren’t even struggling, just stopped moving. Do you remember what happened?’ bokuto drags a hand down his face. he’s visibly distressed.

‘i don’t know what happened,’ you croack. ‘it felt like I was stuck. my feet wouldn’t come lose. as if someone was there with me in the water, holding me down…’ a sob escapes you.

bokuto pales a little at your description. but there had been no one but the two of you in the water. hell he hadn’t even seen any fishes.

he had pulled you under in the first place hadn’t he. there’s no one here but the two of you.

you remember not being alone in the water. you remember the heaviness. but nothing else.

bokuto opens his mouth to say something, but you cannot concentrate. the urge is too strong. before you can think, before you can answer. you are bending over and puking your guts out.

∷ ∷ ∷ ∷

you spend the rest of the day, clinging to bokuto. and he doesn’t mind. he seems to be craving that constant feeling of your skin on his. something to remind him that you were okay, that you were here now. he makes his way around the kitchen with you stuck to him like a little koala.

“sit down on that chair just for a minute, y/n. i can’t find the plates!” he tries to loosen your chokehold on him but you only tighten it and bokuto booms out a laugh.

‘i swear you’re lucky you’re cute.”

‘just consider this weight training.’

bokuto had put together a light meal. you reckoned you’d be unable to stomach anything too heavy.

‘we were supposed to be having fun. i feel like i’ve ruined everything.’ you mumble gloomily. you’re sitting on the chairs you pulled up around the kitchen island. a make shift dining table.

‘it’s okay. its enough to just be together.’

‘oh no been away from you for a five whole minutes.’ your expression is of mock worry as you rush over onto his lap. you immediately bury your head in the crook of his neck, his familiar scent calms you down. he chuckles at your antics.

‘do you think we can just go home?’ you ask apprehensively, still feeling bad about having spoilt your perfect little getaway. ‘i don’t feel like staying here anymore.’

‘sure, baby girl .’ bokuto replies in a heartbeat, and you wonder if he feels the same unease in remaining here any longer.

‘we can leave tomorrow morning.’ he suggests. ‘it might be a bit too late to leave now. plus, caretaker-san didn’t even show up today.’

‘is it okay to just leave?,’ you ask.

from where bokuto sits on the dining table in the kitchen, he can see the doors in the living room that open up to the porch. it’s around three in the afternoon. the weather was beginning to turn awfully gloomy.

clouds slowly fill the sky eclisping the sun that had shined all day. it leaves everything in shades of gray.

∷ ∷ ∷ ∷

you wake up alone in bed. the remnants of an eerie dream still lingers in your mind. you had been combing your hair, which was unusually thick, dark and long. you kept brushing the silky smooth strands, on and on and on, until they started coming loose in your hands. shuddering as you recall it, you turn around to see the wall clock read nine p.m. where was kou? at some point you had fallen asleep although you did not remember coming upstairs to the bedroom. he must’ve carried you from where you and him had been lying on the sofa downstairs, idly chatting.

your body is still heavy with exhaustion but you force yourself to sit up. hearing the water running in the bathroom, you call out to bokuto. ‘kou?’ you pad your way over to the bathroom. when you open the door there is no one inside. water drips from from a leaky tap into an empty bath tub. strange. where had the sound been coming from then?

you find yourself mesmerised by your reflection in the mirror right across from you. when you step inside the bathroom, the tiles are dry and frigid underneath your feet. the lights are off, however, the bathroom is faintly lit up by the light filtering in from the frosted windows. the bags under your eyes are dark and puffy, your lips look ashen. you look like you had lost a tonne of weight over the span of the past few hours. tracing a finger along the outline of your reflection, you notice how your eyes were a forlorn abyss. hollow like the dead.

mine. stay with me. don’t leave me alone. a voice whispers to you and you listen, enchanted.

you see the corners of your lips quirk up in your reflection. your expression twists into that of deranged happiness.

so, you’ll stay?

you don’t feel the smile on your face.

you’re backing away slowly. a scream dies in your throat.

that isn’t you. it’s her.

you’re running full speed out of the bathroom and you make it just in time as the door slams shuts behind you. the edge of your thin white slip gets caught in between but you yank it loose with enough force. bursting out of the room like a bat out of hell you’re hurtling downstairs. you have to look for bokuto. you must leave. now!

you’re me, i am you. he doesn’t love you, so just stay with me. I’m lonely.

you try to call out to bokuto but you cannot find your voice.

and then you see him. sitting on the sofa. the relief you feel is momentary. the old television is on, and the screen is grainy with static but bokuto’s eyes are intent on it. he’s still as if he were carved out of stone. he doesn’t acknowledge your presence just keeps staring ahead with an owlish gaze. you place a shaky hand on his shoulder and he finally turns to look at you.

his eyes that usually are like pools of golden honey are dark and murky like cheap kerosene. his features are sharper, more cunning. a devil in your lover’s skin. the mist outside thickens, appearing as if they were pale white walls surrounding the house.

i told you to just stay with me. you should’ve stayed with me in that cool dark water.

he doesn’t love you, i do.

suddenly bokuto is stalking towards you, his movements hypnotic like that of a panther, sinuously fluid, predatory. a feral look glints in those foreign eyes. he slams you against the nearest wall, his hands tightening over your neck. your head meets the hard surface with a thud. those large arms that have always felt like home suddenly feel empty and cold like a prison cell.

you’re just a prisoner in his cage. he doesn’t love you like I will.

black spots fill your vision, as your air supply is slowly being cut off. ‘kou- please don’t.’ you whimper. a flicker of recognition flashes through those eyes, but the grip around your neck only tightens. ‘kou-’ you call again softly. tears fall freely down your face. your hands go limp by your sides and in the process you knock over a vase that had been on table besides you. it falls to the marble floor with an obnoxious crash. the ceramic splinters into a hundred pieces. bokuto’s eyes widen and the darkness from his face lifts. it is as if a thick patch of clouds obscuring the moon had drifted past, letting its pure light fall to the earth once again. he’s your bokuto once again.

horror struck he lets go of your neck and catches a glimpse of the angry red fingerprints left behind like a morbid necklace. you collapse to the ground.

a door bangs shut somewhere in the house, startling you both. bokuto is about to crouch down next to you when suddenly the volume of the television is cranked up. the harsh static sound grates your ears, like a drawn out growl. there’s thumping coming from behind every surface of the house- the walls, the floors, the ceilings. every door, every window swings open only to shut back with a bang, over and over until shards of broken glass lie like a carpet all over the floor. the house is alive with the breath of countless souls that live in its every crack and crevice. you both look on with horror as heavy mist begins to pour into the house. bokuto’s teeth chatter with fear, and he tries to get you to stand. he follows your gaze which is fixed to where your bedroom had been. and he sees it then. on the door which opens into the room, there’s a shadow of a woman. he can discern the long straight hair which she combs on and on and on.

‘f-fuck!’ he spits.

he harshly pulls you over his shoulders but transfixed you crane up your neck to continue looking at the shadow. hastily he manages to grab the keys which he had hung on a hook by the main door. the shadow grows darker, more defined as if whoever it belonged to was coming closer. he feels you struggling and you scream to be let down.the main door to the house is already open so with one last glance at the chaos behind, you are both bolting out of the house.

‘y/n, run! to the car. hurry, hurry, hurry!’ he shuts the door, hoping it would buy you some time. he’s not really sure what he’d just seen or what any of it meant. but thinking would come later. he grabs your hand as you start the mad dash across the front garden. you notice despite your compromised vision due to the mist, how the roses look wilted. the grounds gooey and wet underneath, and your feet sink into the soft mud making movement sluggish. but you don’t stop. moments later, the door behind you flings open with enough force that it comes loose from its hinges. the whole house seems to be angry.

come back here.

don’t leave me alone.

an overgrown root coils around your calf and yanks you back. your hand slips out of bokuto’s and he turns around, horrified, to see you being dragged into the ground. like you were falling into quicksand.

‘hold on to my arm,’ bokuto bellows, ‘and just don’t. let. go!’

the circulation in your leg is being cut off and you cry in pain. you can feel the disgusting way the soft earth keeps parting further to let you in. you want to let go, give in to the struggle. maybe it’d be better to just lie buried here, decomposing till you forget whats fear, whats pain.

your name is rolling off bokuto’s tongue like a chant. his muscles burn with strain. the sweat and slick makes his grip on you weak and he notices how you’re letting go. he reads the resignations on your face. but why are you letting go? why are you trying to leaving him alone?

bokuto loses his footing and falls backwards and almost loses you, but he manages to interlock your fingers. he’s grunting with effort, and roars with frustration when it doesn’t seem to be working. it is then when you see the blood covering his feet, the glass splinters buried deep into his soles. in your haste to get away you never noticed how he had walked all over the shards with you over his shoulder. the ache in your heart swells. you know he’d never leave you behind. it was the two of you, or none of you who’d make it alive out of here.

the thought of bokuto buried deep into the ground, lips blue and crusted with mud gives you a renewed conviction. with the last spurts of energy you hold tight onto bokuto’s arm with one hand. the other digs into where you find soft but solid ground. you attempt to claw your way out and fight the drag of the noose around you ankle that tries to pull you in the opposite direction. away from bokuto. bokuto is inching backwards, his voice hoarse with all that screaming as he does his utmost to haul you out.

rain begins to pour in heavy cascades even though there hadn’t been a single cloud in the obsidian sky. and suddenly you feel earth’s hold on you go slack. bokuto and your efforts come to fruition as your foot comes loose and you tumble straight on top of bokuto’s body. but its too early to celebrate. a loud thunderclap spurs you both into action and you run and run, fighting the burn in your lungs until you reach the car. bokuto, is grateful, infinitely grateful that the keys had remained in his pockets during that struggle. he hands you the keys and with no time to waste you’re running to the car, afraid that something inauspicious might happen again if you didn’t hurry. bokuto notices with relief that the iron gates are not chained shut like they had been upon your arrival, and with some effort he swings them open. bokuto clambers into the passenger seat and you floor the gas as you drive straight out of the gates, into a calm quiet night.

it takes you a moment to notice that the rain had stopped.

∷ ∷ ∷ ∷

the two of you are covered in dirt, in blood. absolutely shattered with exhaustion. bokuto finally feels the pain that had been dampened by adreneline. it now ignites like an inferno. he almost tears his lip trying to bite back a whimper. in the rear view mirror, you catch a glimpse of the house. it looks regal and imposing, as it had when you’d first arrived. you can see the dimly lit bedroom, the curtains billowing gently in a slight breeze. the glass on the doors is intact. the garden is immaculate once again and you can see patches of soft grass spread out where the mud had almost eaten you up alive just a few moments ago. a shaky laugh escapes Bokuto, and before you know it, feeling delirious, you’re laughing with him.

bokuto’s phone rings and the sound cuts short your hysteria. with some effort he retrieves it from the dashboard where he’d left it two days ago. he had planned on not letting anything distract him from you on this short getaway. he puts it on loudspeaker.

‘they picked up!’ you hear Konoha say to someone and the collective sighs of relief are audible.

‘dude, where have you both been? we’ve been calling you all day. ms. nakamura told me that you never made it to my vacation home?’

‘ms. nakamura?’ bokuto rasps.

‘yeah, the caretaker I told you about?’

‘the caretaker was a man!’ you snatch the phone with from bokuto with one hand while other remains on the steering wheel. you’re yelling at the receiver like a mad woman. ‘we came to your villa, but that man opened the gates. listen, there’s something wrong with the house and lake behind it is-’

‘what lake? there are only corn fields behind my house. which is, by the way, a traditional japanese one. where the fuck have you both been?!’

you and bokuto look at each other in confusion, and you hit the brakes. you glance back at the house which is now far, far away. if you squint your eyes you can see the outline of a man at the gates. the lamp in his hand glows golden like a distant star.

a woman’s shadow is dark and lonely against the delicate lace of the bedroom’s curtains.

#bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq!!#hq #haikyuu angst #bokuto angst #bokuto fluff #bokuto imagines #hq scenarios #hq imagines #haikyuu fluff

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Golden Bullets, Epilogue

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond!AU

Harrison Osterfield, Agent 007, was once the best MI6 agent around with the astounding reputation as a womanizer. Between illegal gold smuggling and black market trading of weapons, he finds himself deeper in his latest mission than intended, weaving himself into a web of the criminal organization, S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. At the center of it all is the one woman who’s never fallen for his charms- you, Agent 006, the best MI6 agent, the new assistant director of the program, and his new partner.

Word Count: 1200

Gif is not mine ~ is it from the greatest showman though??

Golden Bullets Masterlist

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, blood, sexual themes

~~~

The chime of the elevator arriving to its floor rang out through Harrison’s ears, and he slowly stepped out into the hall. Leaning on his newly acquired black cane, he walked down the familiar hallway to Q’s lab.

“You look like shit.” Tom commented as soon as Harrison stepped into the room.

“Nice to see you too.” He replied. “Anything new for me?”

Tom let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “You’re not in the field anymore, remember? M would have my head if I give you a new gadget.” There was a pause between the two of them as Harrison didn’t know what to say, just looking down at the table of blueprints and computers. “I know why you’re here.”

“And any updates?” Harrison asked.

“You know as much as I do.” He said, “M has been quiet about it, even Moneypenny doesn’t know.”

“I just would’ve thought we’d know something by now.” He mumbled.

“We? Or you?”

Tom’s words made Harrison go silent again, and he turned around to leave the room. He stumbled a bit, still getting used to his cane. Tom called out to him just as he reached the elevator, “Cuba. Last I heard.”

Harrison stepped back into the elevator, leaning against the cool metal as the doors shut once again. He sighed, closing his eyes in hopes of finding some peace. His free hand ghosted over the stitches on his hip from the bullet wound.

If someone would’ve asked him two months ago where he thought he’d be in his life, he wouldn’t have said here. No, he would’ve never even guessed that he’d be anywhere near this physical and mental state. He didn’t feel like an agent anymore, he didn’t feel like a famed womanizer; he just felt lonely.

It had been one and a half months since his last mission ended, since he got shot when trying to protect you from Oddjob’s bullets, since he was rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery, since he saw you. You had stayed by his side until he went into surgery, but once he came to, all patched up and okay again, you were gone, vanished without a trace.

The original rumor going around MI6 was that you went awol, mia, rogue. Those rumors still lingered, but then it got out that you had been corresponding with M, on a special top-secret mission. Moneypenny, M’s most trusted assistant, and Tom, M’s most trusted genius, didn’t even know. Harrison hadn’t even heard from you, not truly. All he had was a “wish you were here” postcard from Venice and that didn’t even have a message on it except for a small 006 written in the corner.

For the past few weeks, his life had been full of readjustments. The MI6 physician had barred him from any field work, placing him on temporary leave. He was supposed to keep exercise to a minimum, which was why the only time he got out was when he journeyed to Q to ask him the same question once a week.

When Harrison got back to his apartment, it felt colder than usual as if the window was open, and he never left the window open. He clutched his cane tighter, finger hovering over the trigger button that would turn the simple object into a knife, one Q had designed for him for protective measures. Slowly, his eyes scanned his dark living room before flicking on the light.

Nothing seemed out of place.

Nothing except for the new “greetings from Havana” postcard sitting on his coffee table.

Smiling to himself, he eased up as he saw the recognizable “006” in the corner. He toyed with the postcard in his hand, making his way over to the open window across the room. The moment he shut and locked it, he heard a creak in the floorboards down the hall in his bedroom.

He set the postcard back down on the coffee table on his way through the living room and down the hall. He stepped into his bedroom, turning on the light in the process. Just as he was about to go check further in his apartment, he noticed a new object in his room. In the armchair in the corner of the room sat a familiar hat- the hat of Oddjob, and peaking out from under the hat was a golden gun.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get a martini around here?” He heard a voice from behind him. “Shaken. Not stirred.”

Smirking, Harrison turned around. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

He barely got the words out before your lips were on his for a passionately tender kiss. Harrison dropped the cane to wrap both of his arms around your waist. Your lips pulled away from his, “I told you I’d kill Oddjob. Sorry it took so long.”

“Anytime away from you is too long, angel.”

“I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.” You smiled, but the playfulness dropped when your hand brushed over the wound. Your fingers felt the scarred skin, still recovering from the bullet, as his own fingers traced over your old bullet wound. You whispered quietly to him, “So now you know what it feels like to get shot.”

“It’s a feeling I never want to experience again.” His hand trailed up from your hip to cup the side of your face.

“Me neither. I know that you can handle yourself, but you really scared me that night.”

“That’s the job, love. I’m fine now.” He reassured you with a smile. You raised your eyebrows at him, pressing harder on the wound and he winced, grabbing your hand to take it away from his skin.

“Fine, huh?” You teased, bending down to grab the cane off the floor.

“Fine.” Harrison replied. As he went to take it from your hands, he noticed the cut through your jeans and the gash on your leg, running down the side of your shin. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing.” You insisted as if it was a simple scratch. With his cane, Harrison made his way over to his bathroom, getting out the first aid kit. You sat down on the bed, already knowing what he’d ask. He sat on the edge with you, pulling your leg over his lap.

“Did Oddjob do this to you?” He asked, moving away the torn material of your jeans to apply disinfectant to your wound. When he finally got a good look at it, he realized it wasn’t very deep and the blood hadn’t fully dried yet. “I thought you were in Havana. How is this wound so fresh?”

“Let’s just say I won’t be climbing through the window anymore.” You watched with a smile on your face as confusion crossed Harrison’s face before he was struck with realization and that signature smirk played on his lips.

“My window did this to you? Wow, 006, you’re really slipping up.” He teased, wrapping your leg with a bandage.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at him, unable to hold back your smile. “I will beat you with your cane if you tell anyone at MI6 about this.”

“Oh, will you now?” Harrison asked, pressing down onto your cut and you grimaced, just as he had earlier.You shoved his hand off you and scooted closer to him, your faces just mere inches apart.

“You’re the worst, Osterfield.” You laughed, your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips as you leaned in closer to him.

Just before your lips met his, he mumbled, “Yeah, you’re pretty insufferable yourself, Y/L/N.”

“Dickhead.” You playfully slapped his chest. Harrison just chuckled before his hand came to the back of your head, leading your lips to his. He deepened the kiss, and you shifted fully into his lap, mindful of both of your wounds.

“You’re the best partner I could’ve asked for.” He said softly, his lips barely leaving yours as he spoke.

“I know.” You smiled before continuing to kiss him. Both of you were more than content to be back in each other’s arms.

~~~

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read this series and supported me throughout it! I’m sad it has come to its end, but I hope you’ve all enjoyed it as much as I have! Lots of love, Sammy!

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @holandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorillaglue23

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01 @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @spencerreidxoxo @duskholland

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield series

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

Salt & Snow - Chapter 1

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: The only daughter of House Caspian, close allies of House Stark, visits Winterfell with her family and meets the four interesting children that live in the great castle. Childish shenanigans and silliness ensues.

Hi everyone!! Im gonna give a short fanfic series a try! ;w; I haven’t done this in years lol, and I’m a little proud of this. I think it’ll be around 6~10 chapters? I don’t want it to be long! (yes I am working on other requests i promise hahaha this just got away from me~)

Want to see your name in this fic? Use this fantastic extension for chrome!

The cold air hit her cheeks, and the only reaction she could give was delight. Normally she was scolding her little brother for throwing open the window to their carriage, but now she could only climb over him as she gazed out. The brilliant castle was in sight, and there was a sea of colorful banners all around it. She couldn’t imagine so many people in one place, all trying to fit into Winterfell. Even if it was a grand castle, how could it fit so many men and horses?

Her uncle leaned over her and her brother, chuckling at their starry-eyed expressions. “No leaning out the window. You’ll be there soon enough.”

Y/N recalled a time when her uncle let her lean over the bow of a ship to gaze at dolphins, but this didn’t seem a good time to remind him. It was hard to care about dolphins when she was so far from the sea, anyway. “Uncle, will there be room for us?”

“Of course, sweetling. Your father is a good friend of Lord Stark, remember? Do you remember the last time you were here?”

She shook her head, and so did her little brother, which was silly. He probably wasn’t even born then. Her father often mentioned Lord Stark and the great castle that was Winterfell. Supposedly he’d taken her twice, but they were such faint memories. Today was like seeing it for the first time.

“You were even smaller then, so I’m not surprised. I hope you two will behave yourselves while you’re here. Don’t make me write to your Lady Mother.”

At the mention of her, Y/N and her brother nodded again, except with more seriousness… Well, Y/N took it seriously, but Willam was already clambering back to the window. She felt her excitement begin to dwindle as she thought about her mother lecturing her over whatever thing she failed at, probably a botched courtesy. Her Lady Mother never lectured Willam when he ran through the horse stalls or wrestled in mud with the other boys.

Y/N patted at the neat braid at her shoulder, suddenly worried it was out of place. Her uncle would never lecture her about it being messy, but now she was thinking about it. She smiled at the shiny thread woven through the braid, and the pretty pearl at the end of it. Her father gave it to her. She wished he was here too, but he was riding on his huge black stallion ahead of their carriage. Uncle said Lord Stark gave him the beautiful horse. Y/N was wary of horses, but she liked that one.

Finally the carriage slowed to a crawl and made its way to the gates of Winterfell. Y/N gaped with her brother; it was so huge compared to their modest keep at Ramsgate. Y/N loved her family’s home, but it was like comparing a village to White Harbor. Her brother was bouncing like a proper five year old, tugging on her cerulean sleeves and pointing. “Look, look! A doggy!”

Huge banners flew on top of the parapets and unfurled on the walls. They were a brilliant white, and the creature running across them was as grey as the castle walls. She shook her head. “That’s a direwolf.”

Sometimes Willam looked at her as though she were a genius, which was a nice feeling. She pulled her rowdy brother into her arms and was pleased when he didn’t fight her. The banners and armored men on horses captured all of his attention. She used the distraction to untangle his hair and smooth out his tunic.

She was surprised when her uncle patted her shoulder approvingly, but it was a welcome gesture. The carriage had stopped, and she saw the black, teal and navy banners of their House passing the open window. She tried to be the calm lady, but she was feeling as bouncy as Willam.

Uncle Cole exited the carriage and opened the door for them on the other side. Y/N kept an iron grip on Willam so he didn’t just roll out and fall on his face; her Uncle picked the boy up and set him on his feet, then promptly held his collar so he didn’t go running off. With his other free hand, he helped Y/N down. She lifted her skirts and exited with much more grace.

Y/N looked over her dress, hoping it wasn’t too rumpled from the journey. Her Uncle said she could wear something comfortable for the trip and change into something nicer that evening, but Y/N was too excited to have a proper, real lady’s gown. She wore the beautiful blue and green of the sea, with beautiful little embroidered manta rays. They were her favorite part, and when she walked, her long sleeves swayed and made them look like they were swimming. With the threaded pearl in her hair, Y/N felt much older and more important than her eight years. She would be nine in a few months, and then ten, and by then she was nearly grown. Her lady mother said something to that effect, anyway.

She kept her skirts lifted as she walked through the yard and spotted her father. She would not run to him, because she was a lady, but she did allow herself a little happy skip. She thought he would pick her up like he always did, but his hands were dirty from riding, so she settled for his laughter.

“I’m sweating like a hog in summer, and my girl is fresh as a winter rose! That dress is lovely, Y/N. I know your mother would be proud.”

Y/N wondered about that. She was disappointed her mother was missing such a great harvest feast. “Maybe she should have come, father. What if she’s lonely?”

“Sweetling, the journey is too much for her right now, and she isn’t alone. She has your new brother, remember? He’s too young to leave, too, and she’d hate to leave him alone. Wouldn’t you?”

Y/N wasn’t sure how she felt about her baby brother. She hadn’t even had a chance to see him, but she remembered how her mother screamed when he came into the world, and it wasn’t a pleasant thought. The Maester said she was still bedridden, and she heard the washerwomen whispering about her condition. Willam was hard, they said, that’s why Lady Talia didn’t have a child for so long.

So why did she have another? She already has me and Willam. Y/N had asked the Maester, but he simply corrected her grammar and turned her attention to her studies.

It wouldn’t do to be unsure and gloomy today, not when they were in a grand new place and her father was beaming like she’d never seen before. “Can I write to her?”

“She would love that. Tell her all the details, don’t leave anything out.” When he laughed, his beard moved with him. Compared to other Northmen, her father’s was trim, and she liked that. He didn’t look old like the Maester or the horse master. “Little Y/N, do you remember the last time you were at Winterfell?”

“No.”

“Just so, you were barely to my knee, and Willam was still in your mother’s stomach. Do you remember their children?”

She knew the Starks had children, naturally, her parents and other adults mentioned them before. Y/N felt embarrassed she couldn’t recall any names, though. “No …”

“That’s fine, dear, it was a long time ago, and you weren’t here for very long. They have a girl your age, named Lyanna. You can play with her while you’re here. Their boys are too old for Willam, but I know you’ll get on well with them.”

It sounded like Y/N didn’t have much of a choice in playing with Lyanna or being nice to her brothers, but she didn’t mind meeting new children. Lord Manderly had no daughters to play with, only his two sons, and they were older and often annoyed her. One of her father’s men had a daughter, but she was younger and prone to crying at the drop of a pin. Y/N hoped Lyanna wasn’t like that.

She followed her father and uncle to the great hall of Winterfell, holding her brother’s hand firmly so he’d follow along. He was stopping and staring at everything, which she wanted to do too, but she was interested in seeing the hall and the Starks. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as she thought it would be when they entered, and gazing upon the banners hung up in the hall, Y/N realized they were one of the first families brought in.

Before her was the tallest man she’d ever seen. Her father was tall, she thought, he was bigger than the master-at-arms and her Uncle, but this one slapped her father on the back so hard she thought he hurt him. He had a great beard, too, and long black hair that was like the night. Beside him was a woman in beautiful white and grey silks, with hair so soft and brown, Y/N instantly thought of chocolate.

While her father and uncle loudly greeted the man, it was the woman who stepped toward her. Beside her were two children: A girl slightly taller than Y/N, and a boy slightly shorter. The girl looked just like the woman, down to her pretty brown hair and big grey eyes. She wore a lovely sky-blue dress that was simpler than Y/N’s, but she also had a braid that was tied back with a blue rose. The boy had long black hair that stuck up in a few directions and the same grey eyes. He wasn’t hiding his curiosity, and nor was his sister.

The woman bowed her head slightly, and Y/N attempted a curtsy while still holding her brother’s hand. “Lady Stark,” Y/N said, hastily trying to recall what she was taught. “It’s good to meet you. Thank you for having my family.”

“The pleasure is mine, dear,” Lady Stark said. She had a nice smile, and her steady voice reminded Y/N of her Lady Mother when visitors came. It was a comforting sound. Her daughter wasted little time in doing her own curtsy, but her excited words didn’t match the proper gesture.

“My name is Lyanna. What’s your’s?”

“Um, Lady Y/N of House Caspian.”

“I know which one that is,” Lyanna had a big smile. She seemed proud of knowing this, and she pointed to the little white manta rays on Y/N’s sleeves. “Your sigil is a black ray on a blue ocean, with navy waves. Your castle is on a beach!”

“Yes, that’s right,” Y/N held up her sleeve, and Lyanna happily admired it. Willam peered out from behind her skirt, and suddenly Y/N remembered him. “Oh, um, and this is Willam. My Lady Mother and youngest brother couldn’t come. Um, she wishes she could.”

“I wish she could as well, but I am praying for her health.” Lady Stark said. “I’ll look forward to seeing her next year.”

Y/N was about to ask why Lady Stark thought they were visiting next year, but the wild-haired boy took the spot beside Lyanna and spoke up. “I’m Benjen.”

“He’s the youngest,” Lyanna said, then added, “And the shortest.”

“You’re going to be the shortest soon, you know,” Benjen said. He seemed very good-humored. “Father said we’ll all be as tall as him. We’ll be able to put our elbows on your head.”

Lyanna scoffed loudly, and Lady Stark instantly raised an eyebrow. Before she could comment on that little noise, her husband took up Y/N’s entire vision.

He was tall.

Often, Y/N’s father and her uncle crouched on their knees when talking to her, but Lord Stark didn’t bother. He seemed to speak as loudly as the men at arms did when they trained. “Now, look here! You were up to here the last I saw you. Welcome to Winterfell, my lady.”

Y/N tried not to quiver in her own boots. She felt Willam’s little hand squeeze her’s, and she thought it was encouragement, but then she glanced over. The boy was trying to fight his own tears.

She opted to go for her courtesies. “Th-thank you, Lord Stark, you honor me.”

“Hah! Does she always speak so pretty? She’s a darling thing, Gareth. I wish Talia could have made it, but congratulations for your son. We’ll see them next time, I hope. Lyanna, Benjen, why don’t you introduce Y/N to your brothers?”

“I’ll watch Willam.” Uncle Cole said to Y/N before she could say anything about him. She worried her little brother would cry when his uncle took him from her, but she heard Cole say something about a knight and a wolf, and the boy’s eyes were filled with stars instead of tears. Y/N wondered if she was that simple when she was five.

Lyanna was quick to say “Yes, father!” and take Y/N’s hand in place of Willam’s. Before she knew it, Y/N was being dragged out of the great hall and out into the crisp, cold air. Benjen was hot on their heels, the air making his long black hair whip in every direction.

Benjen had a grin in spite of his words. “I thought father was going to make you cry, Y/N.”

“H-he wasn’t!”

“Brandon is pretty scary, too.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s just a big bother.”Lyanna said. “He thinks he knows everything because he’s eleven.”

“Lyanna’s only mad ‘cause he got to go riding this morning, and she had to stay and memorize banners.”

Lyanna made a move to punch his arm, but Benjen easily dodged her. Y/N was surprised she was allowed to move like that in a dress, then she looked down and noticed the hem of it was muddy.

They ran a circle around Y/N, Benjen not even bothering to really run, since Lyanna was hampered by her skirts. She knew it and gave up, tossing them down with frustration. The winter rose was sagging a little in her braid.

Y/N wasn’t sure what to say. “Um … I can meet your other brother, if you want.”

“Oh, Ned! Yes, Ned is better. He’s sweet and treats ladies properly.” Lyanna nodded, pleased with the suggestion.

“How old are you, Y/N?” Benjen asked.

“I’m nine in a few months.”

“Just like me!” Lyanna bounced. “Benjen is only seven!”

The boy wasn’t bothered by this. Instead, he took off running and called back, “Race to the training yard! Winner gets lemon cake!”

“You cheat!” Lyanna was already gathering her skirts and flying off. She whipped her head around, brown hair flying everywhere. “Come on, Y/N! Don’t let him win!”

“Um.” Y/N looked down at the pretty silver thread on her bodice, the little embroidered rays on her sleeves, and the neat hem of her dress. She looked around and, satisfying none of the servants were interested in what she was doing, pulled her skirts up to her calves, where her boots ended. She could run ladylike, couldn’t she? It was alright if her boots got a little dirty, because she could just clean them, right?

Y/N ended up doing something of a trot and skip, which didn’t look nearly as elegant as she pictured. She did her best not to lose sight of the Stark girl, and by the time she ran up to the training yard, she was trying not to huff and puff. Y/N hastily touched her braid and was relieved that the pearl was still there.

Lyanna’s winter rose had flown out at some point, and several strands of hair were in her face. She absently brushed them aside. “There you are, Y/N! Benjen cheated, as usual.”

An older boy was sitting on the fence, lazily swinging his legs. He bit into an apple. “Or you were too slow, as usual.”

“I would be faster if I had my tunic and pants!”

The boy snickered. “Mother would be angry.”

Lyanna had a retort ready, but Benjen waved to Y/N and called her over. “We found the wrong brother. Want to look somewhere else?”

Y/N glanced up at the boy, who wasn’t a real grown-up, but he was still bigger, especially when he sat up on that fence. He had black hair like Benjen, and while it was shorter, it wasn’t much neater. She didn’t like the look on his face, but she bowed anyway. “My name is Lady Y/N.”

“I’m Brandon. I’m going to be Lord of Winterfell.” He said in way of a greeting. He didn’t bother to stop eating his apple, or get off the fence.

Y/N was instantly annoyed.

Lyanna did that scoff again. “Right, he’s going to be an ‘important Lord’, so he’s busy. Let’s go find Ned.”

“He doesn’t want little kids tagging along, either.” Brandon said.

She ignored that. “Where is he, then?”

“How would I know?”

“Ugh. We’ll find him ourselves.”

Suddenly, Brandon asked Y/N, “Do you have a brother?”

“It’s ‘do you have a brother, Lady Y/N,’” Lyanna corrected quickly. “Where’d you leave your manners?”

“Same place you left your’s,” Benjen said easily, and both Brandon and Lyanna ignored that.

“I do have one.” Y/N didn’t like having to crane her neck up at this stupid wall to talk to this boy, even if he was the oldest Stark. “He’s three years younger than me. My other brother is a babe, and back at Ramsgate.”

Brandon huffed, and Y/N didn’t get what the attitude was for. It was Lyanna who explained, “Now that he’s almost good at sword fighting, he wants to fight every lordling that visits. He doesn’t even use a real sword.”

The older boy flushed. “I will soon! What do you know about swords, anyway?”

“I know as much as you, and probably more.”

That made him hop off the fence, and Y/N was dismayed to learn he was still tall without it. “Girls don’t use swords. Father already told you that.”

It was Lyanna’s turn to turn red with anger. Y/N was surprised at how quickly it came, and she wondered if this was a fight they had before.

“I bet I could use a sword and a lance better than you, if I was taught.”

“Well, you aren’t taught, and you won’t be, so you can’t be better.”

Y/N tried to speak. “Um, Lyanna, maybe we can do something else? Let’s walk around Winterfell —”

“Let’s try right now!” Lyanna said, not even hearing Y/N’s words. “I’ll use a stupid wooden sword, just like you. I’ll hit you right between the eyes with it!”

“You couldn’t reach me!” Brandon was yelling like his sister. “And Mother would have your head!”

“Are you going to tell on me? Afraid I’ll win?” Lyanna goaded, and that’s when Benjen tried to speak up.

“Brandon, stop yelling, everyone will hear,” He tried, nudging his older brother’s shoulder, but he was shaken off. Y/N tried to do the same to Lyanna, but the girl was as still as stone and couldn’t be moved. Y/N fretted, thinking of what her Lady Mother would do if she heard about this. She felt it was her fault, and she hated the idea of upsetting her father and the Lord and Lady Stark just hours after she arrived.

“Lyanna,” Y/N tried again to nudge the girl. She tried to hide her distress, but failed. “Come on, let’s go, I want to do something else.”

She looked to Benjen for more support, but the dark-haired boy was distracted. He was waving someone over, someone in the distance. Y/N looked with him — There was no way this person was an adult, and looking closer, Y/N saw he was a boy almost the same size as Brandon, but there was a small sword belted to his waist.

Lyanna stopped her arguing, and Brandon did too, but he was scowling. The new boy had the same soft, dark brown hair that Lady Stark had, and her pretty grey eyes. He said nothing, but Y/N could feel his disapproval.

Lyanna spoke first. “Brandon started it, he says I can’t use a sword and I know if I had one, I’d hit his stupid face —”

“— She’s a girl, and Mother said if she gets into another fight and ruins another gown, she’ll drag all of us by the ears around the yard —”

The new boy just let them talk over each other. When both Lyanna and Brandon saw they weren’t being heard, they huffed at each other. Lyanna crossed her arms.

Finally, the boy said, “We shouldn’t fight today. There’s lots of guests at Winterfell.”

Y/N didn’t expect him to say that, but it sounded like the right thing. To her surprise, Lyanna and Brandon looked equally sullen, as if they agreed.

“Brandon, you were supposed to be meeting guests with Mother and Father … and Lyanna, you already dirtied your dress.”

Lyanna opened her mouth to protest, then looked down at her muddy dress. She touched her hair, as if just noticing what a state it was in. Her mouth closed and she kept her arms crossed.

Brandon was ready to say something as well, but he just pursed his lips and made an annoyed sound. He and his sister glared at each other, but they said nothing. The new boy was giving his siblings a pleading look with those grey eyes.

“Fine,” They both muttered, and Benjen was smiling again. Y/N could feel the relief washing over her. She’d skip over this in her letter.

Lyanna lingered back to Y/N, her cheeks still red. She felt a bit embarrassed for acting like that in front of someone new, so she tried to move past it. “This is Y/N. She’s from the castle by the sea, at Ramsgate. Y/N, this is Ned.”

Y/N smiled and did her curtsy, grateful to the boy for restoring peace. She had a feeling he’d be nice to her, unlike Brandon. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She hadn’t expected him to hastily look down and mumble something. Had he not noticed she was there?

Brandon elbowed him, and Ned looked up, meeting her eyes with his own grey ones. She still liked the look of them, and now they were contrasting against the boy’s red cheeks. “Um. It’s nice to meet you.”

“And?” It was Benjen’s turn to elbow him. Ned frowned at his younger brother, glanced at Y/N, hastily glanced away and added,

“AndwelcometoWinterfell.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at that. Lyanna was giggling at her side, and Brandon looked much more relaxed. The air cleared at once, and Lyanna nudged Y/N’s hand before taking it.

“Let me show you around Winterfell, it’s pretty here, even without the ocean. Oh, I know the best place to start!”

“She’s already in the best place,” Brandon said. “The stables are here, too. Let’s show her our horses!”

“I have the prettiest mare,” Lyanna said. “Do you ride? Oh, soon Brandon is going to get a big horse, like the ones knights use in tourneys!”

Brandon beamed, and Y/N was glad the two had something they bonded over. Benjen added, “When you’re done looking at smelly animals, I know the best hiding spots.”

“And the kitchens, they’re making so many pastries for tonight!” Lyanna said.

“What about the top of the castle walls? And the big catapults.”

“The towers, too, especially the haunted one,” Benjen said. “Well, it’s scarier at night.”

Y/N noticed Ned hadn’t added anything to their list of suggestions. He actually seemed a little dismal, and he glanced up at the tall walls that Brandon mentioned.

“Um, Ned, where do you think we should go?” Y/N asked, wanting to include him.

He blushed again, and fiddled with the hem of his tunic. She thought it was odd how he had a little sword at his waist, but Brandon didn’t. “Oh. Um. I don’t know…”

“You’re coming with us,” Lyanna said, although Y/N didn’t think Ned would try to slip away. He looked forlorn about something, she just didn’t know how to ask or what to say. “We have to do as much as possible before you have to leave!”

He has to leave? But where? Is that why he’s so sad? Y/N wanted to ask him, but Ned was shrinking back behind Benjen and Brandon. The latter was already marching to the stables, calling the girls to follow him. Benjen tugged at his older brother’s sleeve to urge him along, just as Lyanna eagerly pulled Y/N.

Lady Stark was doing a very impressive job of managing a smile while fury burned in her eyes.

“Lyanna. Brandon. Benjen.” She said each name with great enunciation, and each child grimaced as their name was said. “To the baths. Now.”

None of them protested. Lyanna’s hair had long fallen out of its braid and her dress had a motley of grime on it. Brandon’s arms and cheeks were caked in dirt after deciding to show Y/N how to mount a real knight’s horse - and promptly falling. Benjen was dirty from his fingers to his toes because, while Lyanna and Ned were helping Brandon up, he decided to pelt his sister with mud and hay. She ran after him, tackled him to the ground, and that’s how her dress ripped, too. Brandon doubled over in laughter and Y/N expected Ned to intervene again, but he just sighed.

Ned was more or less clean, as was Y/N - she noticed some dirt on the hem of her dress, but she couldn’t do much about it, and she didn’t want to trouble Lady Stark. The woman sighed heavily, and she tried to return some sweetness to her voice.

“Sweetling, could you wash your hands for me? I’ll have a maid brush the dust out of your hair and fix the braid. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Lady Stark. Thank you very much.”

It was best to be courteous when the fire was under one’s “arse”, as her Uncle said, although Y/N wasn’t sure what that was and why fire would be under it. She liked the idea of her nails and hair being clean again, though. Lady Stark turned to her second oldest.

“Ned, it’s good everyone was having fun, but on important days like this, you should remind them how to act. I know Lord Arryn has taught you much about being a proper Lord.” She sighed, and much of the anger was gone from her at that point. “Brandon knows better, but he needs a cool head to set him straight. Do you understand?”

Ned looked as though he had been scolded, anyway. He nodded. “I know.”

“I’m not upset at you, love. I’m glad you’re home.” She gave him a quick hug, then turned back to Y/N. “I’ll show you where you can freshen up, sweetling.”

She was thankful Lady Stark didn’t take her hand; she’d already been almost reprimanded like a child, she didn’t want to be escorted like one. As they walked away, she glanced back. He looks lonely again.

His grey eyes met her own, so Y/N smiled and waved. He looked away, but eventually glanced back and gave her a little wave back.

The harvest feast was a flurry of colors and music. Y/N had attended such feasts at Lord Manderly’s beautiful castle, but everyone was so much bigger, so much louder here. Sometimes it was frightening, and she was happy to be seated close to Lyanna. They were at a table meant for the younger girls, but the ages were varied and Y/N could tell Lyanna was bored with all of them. Surprised at her own boldness, but getting antsy herself, Y/N was the one who suggested they seek out the boys.

“Great idea!” Lyanna said, and her enthusiasm made Y/N regret the suggestion.

No one paid them any mind as they left the table. Lyanna only seemed to be avoiding her mother and father’s gaze, but Lord Stark was loudly telling stories with Y/N’s father, and Lady Stark was in deep conversation with two other ladies. All it took was ducking behind two serving women and crawling under a table to make their escape to the door.

The cold air hit Y/N’s face again for the hundredth time, and it was no less refreshing. She missed the smell of the salty sea, but the mountains and snow had their own relaxing scent. She turned to Lyanna. “Do you know where they are?”

“I saw Brandon leave, I bet Ned and Benjen followed him. They always do.”

She was right. Close the feast hall was a yard, smaller than the big training yard, but still plenty of room for boys to poke each other with wooden swords and laugh. Brandon was taking on Lord Manderly’s two sons.

Like Lord Manderly himself, they were round, blonde and good-natured. They weren’t at all bothered by Brandon trying to take them on at the same time, if anything, they thought it was a fun game. They’d actually left her alone tonight, no doubt because all the other lordlings were playing knights and “sparring”.

“Wylis, Wendel!” Y/N called. Their father was the liege lord of her father, so it’d be rude not to say hello. Wendel stopped the game to answer back, but Brandon hit him square on the head.

“That wasn’t fair,” Wylis said. “You didn’t give him a chance to yield!”

“Hard to yield when you’re dead,” Brandon shrugged. Wendel rubbed his head, but still called “Y/N!” and waved. She waved back just to appease him, and Brandon took the chance to strike again, but this time Wylis called out and Wendel jumped back.

Y/N spotted Benjen, who was hanging upside down from a low branch on a tree. The three Ryswell boys were around him, wanting to do it too, and Lyanna announced her intention to climb higher than all of them. Y/N looked around for Ned, and didn’t see him.

Who she did see startled her. She thought he was a statue, but that was stupid. Who had a statue of a boy - no, maybe a young man? - in the yard outside of a feast hall? He was so still, and then, he moved.

His pale eyes looked down on her. Maybe it was the trick of the torches, or the moonlight, but they were almost colorless. When he stepped close, her head was just under his chest, and she was face to face with the emblem of a flayed, bleeding man.

Y/N could only manage a pitiful attempt at a curtsy. She recognized the house’s sigil, but the name of their lord and only son escaped her. She’d never met either, but it still felt like a failed test.

“What are you doing here?” His voice startled her, and she didn’t know why. She hadn’t expected it to be so … quiet, yet there was little if any warmth in it.

“I …” She was allowed to be here, she was a guest, the same as him, but Y/N still felt herself faltering. She frantically glanced back for Lyanna, but the girl was too busy playing.

She was smaller than him, but she felt even smaller, and she hated it. Y/N was ready to dart back inside when she heard snow crunching behind her. Just a moment later, someone put a hand on her head.

“Roose, your father is looking for you.” It was Ned’s voice. Y/N glanced up, feeling comfort in his presence and the warmth of his hand. Normally she would’ve shaken him off, but she stayed still.

The Bolton boy said nothing to that, not at first. He glanced down to Ned’s hip, where the thin sword still was. Y/N noticed he had one himself, but it was a real one. A proper one.

It was Wylis’ oblivious voice that broke the tension between the three of them. “Roose! Come join us!”

Y/N couldn’t believe he was speaking to a proper lord like that, and she fearfully glanced at the taller boy to gauge his reaction. He had none. His icy eyes glanced toward the children climbing the tree and Brandon, and he simply said, “I haven’t used a wooden sword in years.”

That was it. Not willing to indulge in children’s games, the Bolton boy brushed past her, and Y/N felt the night air get just a little colder. She shivered, then felt warmth close to her fingers. At some point, Ned had moved his hand to her’s, but he didn’t make an attempt to hold it. Y/N decided to.

“Thank you,” She said, and she liked the little smile he gave her. He only met her eyes for those few seconds before glancing downward.

“Don’t be afraid of him. You’re safe here.”

Y/N nodded, even if she still felt anxious. The sound broke her out of her fear, and Ned led her over to the tree. Soon Brandon and Wylis and Wendel joined them, too, and everyone ended up cheering on Benjen as he swung to the highest branch.

Y/N stayed for three more days, delighting in playing with her new friends. It was mostly her, Lyanna and Benjen, but sometimes Brandon and Ned would join their games and exploring. She wished Ned would talk to her a little more, but he always seemed embarrassed, or one of his siblings would talk over him.

When it came time to leave, Lyanna started to cry, and that made Y/N cry. “You have to visit next year!” She said, hugging her companion close. “You have to!”

“I will,” Y/N said, already promising it without knowing if she could. Didn’t Lord and Lady Stark mention it? “I’ll ask my father and mother if I can come next year.”

“I’ll ask mine, too! Maybe they’ll let me go to Ramsgate. We’ll built sandcastles and collect shells!”

Y/N wanted to stay in Winterfell, but she wouldn’t be picky. She gave Benjen a hug, too. Ned had a shy goodbye for her, and Brandon was off on his horse somewhere. Lady Stark kissed her brow and said she was welcome at anytime, and Lord Stark patted her head, very similar to what her father did, except his hand was huge.

It was usually Willam sticking his head out the carriage, but he was fast asleep, and Y/N had no shame hanging halfway out to wave at the Starks as she left. Eventually they were too small to see, and then the castle gate closed, and her Uncle gently urged her back inside.

“When are we going back?” Y/N asked him, and she didn’t understand why he laughed. She was being serious.

“Sooner than you think, little ray. Your mother will be very pleased to hear you had so much fun. What did you think of the Stark boys?”

“Ned is quiet, and Bran is too loud. Ben is nice.” Y/N shrugged. “Lyanna is my friend, though.”

“That’s good. Very good. You can tell your lady mother all about them.”

Why? I sent her a letter. Y/N thought, but she just nodded and glanced out the window to watch the passing countryside. She didn’t understand why her uncle was so pleased, and she recalled her father asked that question, too … and didn’t Lady Stark? “What do you think about Winterfell, Y/N? Are you getting along with the boys?”

Y/N frowned. Maybe they thought I wouldn’t like Lyanna’s brothers because the only one I have is so young.

Whatever the reasons, Y/N quickly pushed them from her mind as she admired the passing forest and streams. It began lulling her to sleep, and she tried to make herself comfortable as the carriage jostled and the horses padded along noisily. She was fast asleep by the time her uncle covered her with a blanket.

#game of thrones x reader #ned stark x reader #libra fics #salt & snow #game of thrones imagines #ned stark

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words-in-air · 4 years

Text

00:00

Mikan sets her phone down on the nightstand and rubs her eyes, keeping them closed as she stretches. It's been a long day. Mikan looks next to her, where her boyfriend grunts peacefully. In his sleep, Natsume looks like an angel, the juxtaposition within him of elegance and something raw and ethereal.

As if he can sense her eyes on him, Natsume's eyes flutter open. When he sees Mikan very much not asleep, he props himself up sleepily on one elbow, his eyes asking a question.

Mikan obliges. The kiss is salty. "I'm nervous," she admits.

"I wish you would have let me done it."

"It wouldn't have worked, if it was you. Hotaru and I have a special connection that can't be explained, just like Alices can't be explained."

"Still, I'm the one who owes Imai," Natsume says quietly. "I owe her my life."

"No," Mikan smiles. "I owe her my life. I get to go to bed and wake up in the morning to this bad breath. Go to sleep already."

"Only if you spoon me, Polka," Natsume smirks.

"Big baby." Mikan tugs the bedroom lamp, plunging the room into darkness. She wraps her skinny arms around Natsume’s hot skin. I love you, she mouths against his back.

“”MmLove you too,” Natsume mumbles. He’s already dreaming. As usual, Mikan is in his dreams. They are sweet.

06:00

When Mikan and Natsume arrive at the Alice Academy Hospital Wing, Narumi and Yuu are there to greet them. “Narumi-sensei!” Mikan cries, running into his arms.

“Mikan!” Narumi crows, hugging her tightly to his chest. He catches Natsume’s eyes playfully. Natsume glares and ignores him: “Hey, Yuu.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shite.”

“Language.”

The two men share a laugh. “You know what I remember?” Yuu says, almost wistfully. “That time my Alice was stolen, and how Hotaru got shot, and how you and Mikan and Ruka and Tsubasa-senpai tried to find the antidote. You were all trying to out hero each other even then. I hope that you know you don’t have to do anything. Hotaru wouldn’t want that.”

“You know Mikan. It isn’t about debt or trying to be heroic,” Natsume replies. “It’s about love and necessity. That Hotaru is Mikan’s soulmate I’ve already known for a long time. Because I know she needs to do this, I’m standing back and letting her make her decision. Because I understand. It’s like me and Ruka.”

Yuu is raising his eyebrows.

“What,” Natsume says, a little embarrassed at the passion he put into that little speech.

“Just waiting for you to say no homo.”

“Yes homo, dude. I love Ruka. No need to hide anything.”

“I love how humorous you’ve become after dating Mikan,” Yuu remarks.

Meanwhile, said subject is going over paperwork. “Mikan, are you sure?” Narumi sensei asks. He thinks of Mikan as his own child. He also thinks Mikan has never resembled Yuka more than in this moment, determination emanating ferociously from her expression.

Of course, her response is relaxed and chipper. “Yes, sensei. It’s not that she’s done so much for me. It’s that I don’t know who I am without her. And I don’t want to know who I am without her, either. I’m sick of living a half filled life. I want to live with Hotaru by my side.”

Before Narumi can say anything, Mikan cuts him a look. “Please don’t say anything about her body and soul still being in the hospital. I know. I come here to see her everyday. And I also know that she’s not going to get better by herself at this rate.”

“You don’t know that though,” Narumi finds himself arguing. “This is a gamble. You’re gambling half of your organs away, not to mention a significant portion of your lifespan—“

“Sensei,” Mikan says kindly. “I know it as well as I know Mr. Bear, or Jii-chan, or Natsume — I feel it in my bones — that it will be fine. Me and Hotaru, we will make it work.”

12:00

Natsume is allowed one last hug before Mikan disappears behind the double doors. “I love you,” he whispers gruffly.

“Love you,” Mikan says, remembering the way that his heart beats. “I’ll see you soon, so stop looking at me like that.”

“I always look at you like this,” Natsume says, but he’s averting his gaze. Subaru’s coming his way, and he’ll be damned if he actually cries in front of someone. Why couldn’t Imai be like her brother, he thinks not for the first time.

Subaru and Hotaru were successfully brought back from the time warp a few months ago, after nearly half a decade of studying and experimenting with the full efforts of the Academy, who made the Imais’ return a top priority. Subaru recuperated quickly, the only traces of the time warp now left in his head as memories, because he has the Healing Alice. As for his younger sister, well... once again she was on life support.

Natsume thinks of the way Mikan had looked the first time they visited Hotaru’s room. He coughs. Yuu pats him on the back.

“She said she was coming back,” Natsume reasons.

Yuu finds that watching his friend is too painful. He can only silently nod.

Inside the room, Mikan begins the procedure of removing her clothes. Subaru goes through the clipboard, marking errant notes awkwardly.

“You can speak, Dr. Imai,” Mikan laughs as she puts on the hospital gown.

“I just don’t understand you girls.”

“I don’t understand what you’re about to do to my body, but as long as Hotaru gains consciousness, consider it a job well done.”

Subaru shakes his head. “Anyhow, thank you for doing this.”

“Thank you,” Mikan says. “For helping me do this.”

18:00

Hotaru is alone, walking on a beautiful garden filled with flowers made of metallic petals. Penguin is here, next to her.

So I’m dead, she thinks bluntly. Then: why is death so boring?

She has been walking this same path, listening to the same electronic hum, for the past few months. At least she thinks it’s a few months. She didn’t know how to keep track of time when she first arrived, but then her instincts clicked into place after a certain amount of time and she built herself a clock.

It’s boring, she thinks again. Penguin heees. “What’s that, Penguin?”

“Hee! Hee!”

“Mikan? What about Mikan? She’s in danger?”

Penguin only hees again, urgently. It must be this place messing with its reception, Hotaru thinks frustratedly. Stupid place. Stupid Penguin. Stupid—

“Hotaru. HOTARU!” She hears, and looks up right as a dark mass drops onto her.

For one split second, Hotaru thinks she’s died again. And then she hears something: “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Hotaru, it’s really you...”

Hotaru knows this voice. She hears it often in her head, in her memories that surface like gifts in her dreams. “Mikan?”

“Hotaru!”

“Mikan...!”

21:00

“This place is so weird,” Mikan says. She sniffles. The first hour she wouldn’t stop crying, and the past two hours she has gone over everything that’s happened in Hotaru’s absence. When it was Hotaru’s time to share she took Mikan for a stroll along the path.

“I know,” Hotaru says.

“It’s very you, though. Look at the robotic flowers. Look at these baby robot bees. Where even are we?”

“I don’t know,” Hotaru said. “I’m still amazed you even found me.”

“It’s the power of our love,” Mikan smiles. “Right, Penguin?” Penguin hees.

Hotaru feels a surge of emotion for her best friend and she combats it by taking out her Baka Gun, Heaven Edition. “Look what I made.”

Mikan shakes her head. “Of course you did. Oh my gosh, Hotaru, look!! There’s a turtle!!”

The two girls watch as it leisurely crosses the path ahead of them.

Hotaru takes this chance to say what’s been on her mind: “Mikan, what if we’re stuck here?”

Mikan doesn’t even miss a beat. “Then at least I’m stuck here with you.”

“Mikan...”

“Hotaru,” her best friend says. “I think the reason you haven’t come back Earthside yet is because.. you don’t want to. And that’s okay, as long as I get to he by your side. When you’re ready we can go back. But we have all the time in the world, so there’s no rush.” Mikan pauses. “Do you think we get to bring Penguin back?”

“No, you idiot,” Hotaru replies. “I think this is a place for wandering souls. Like in a time warp, but not in the sense of time. Like you said, there’s an element of indecision, I agree.”

Mikan peeks over at her best friend.

“What?” Hotaru feels compelled to ask.

“Don’t you think I’ve become, like, smarter? And more intelligent? Subaru said— OW! Hotaru!”

“The Baka Gun Heaven Edition thinks otherwise,” Hotaru says. “My sincere condolences.”

22:30

“Hey, what’s Ruka been up to these days?”

“Why’re we asking? OKAY okay, no need to pull out the cannon. He’s a vet. In France. He’s flying back this week to see us though. By us I mean me and YOU.”

“...”

“Why do you ask—Hotaru! Stop running! Wait up!”

23:15

“Do you think we’ll remember this when we wake up?” Mikan wonders. “It’s so beautiful. I want to remember this.”

“Probably as a dream if we do,” Hotaru says. “We’re actually really close to the real world. Hear that electronic hum? It’s hospital equipment, I think.”

Mikan’s mouth makes an O. “Hotaru, you’re so smart!”

“Damn straight.”

23:45

“It surprises me that Hyuuga hasn’t asked to marry you,” Hotaru remarks. She and Mikan are laying down now, watching the periwinkle sky ripple with color.

Mikan hums. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t say yes.”

Hotaru turns her head to look at her best friend. “What if I never woke up? You never were going to get married?”

“Yep,” Mikan says cheerfully. “It’s okay, Natsume understands.”

“You’re crazy,” Hotaru states simply.

“You’re my most important person! And don’t lie to yourself, Hotaru. You would do the same!” Mikan exclaims.

“No,” Hotaru argues. “I would find a way to wake you up way sooner because I’m a genius.”

Mikan sticks her tongue out and shuffles closer to Hotaru, draping her arms around her best friend. “Was it lonely?”

“No,” Hotaru thinks. “Just boring. I might’ve been lonely if you hadn’t found me sooner, though.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that when I come home, I want to be brought home on an elephant. The time warp once dropped me and Onii-chan in India once, and that’s how they carried royalty.”

“That actually sounds really nice.” Mikan muses.

Penguin hees softly. Mikan snuggles in. Hotaru smiles. She’s content, in this moment.

She’s ready.

“You’re ready?”

Hotaru squeezes her best friend’s hand. “Yeah, let’s go back.”

00:00

“Natsume,” Mochiage urges. “You need to stand up straight. Natsume.”

The entire class of 2B is congregated in the hospital’s waiting wings. Natsume’s face is gray. Mikan’s been under operation for 12 hours now, during which Natsume has refused to eat or drink or move from his spot.

Ruka shakes his head. “Leave him be. It’s been a long day.” Mochu sighs, throwing his hands up.

In another corner, Sumire is pacing, biting her nails. Koko pulls her hand from her mouth, encircling it within his own hands.

“I’m not nervous, because there’s nothing to be nervous about,” Sumire declares sharply, looking at her husband.

Koko only smiles. “I know, Mire. I know.”

“They’ll come back. Where’s Anna and Nonoko? Anna! Nonoko!” Sumire pulls her hand from Koko’s grasp and marches purposefully across the room. “I swear I told them to...”

Koko sighs. He doesn’t need to be a mindreader right now to know what everyone’s thinking. He wishes he had an Alice limiting bracelet, because at a hospital especialy, everyone’s thoughts are so damn loud. His hearing is amplified to an exponential amount.

Hey, Hotaru, Koko suddenly hears.

What? Koko thinks, alert. That was definitely Mikan’s dumb voice.

What, you idiot.

This voice is so familiar and heartbreaking to Koko that he falls to his knees. He’s spent the past few years trying to remember and memorize this voice, as proof that she had existed. Hotaru Imai had existed, because she had a voice in his mind.

“Koko?” Yuu rushes over. “Koko, what’s wrong?”

Natsume knows. Natsume knows, and his head whips up and focuses on Koko with a burning intensity.

Do you remember? Mikan now, her voice clear, a little weak.

Yeah. Hotaru responds, quiet. Yeah.

So it wasn’t a dream. Then, I’m glad.

Koko nods at Natsume, who is up on his feet in less than one second just as Dr. Imai appears through the doors. He’s sweaty, exhausted. His bangs are sticking to his head. Natsume thinks he’s never seen anything more angelic when he speaks.

“The operation was a success.”

Subaru finally cracks a smile.

“You can go see Hotaru and Sakura now.”

｡o° ✧༺ ✿ ༻∞ ❀ ∞༺ ✿ ༻✧ °o｡

It’s been a week since the two girls’ release, and every single day Mikan has fallen asleep next to her best friend. Natsume, grumbling, has been relocated to Ruka’s place in Tokyo. Today, though, Hotaru is moving out. Mikan sits as Hotaru goes through her suitcase one last time.

“Do you have to move out,” Mikan says, for the umpteenth time.

“Hyuuga—“

“Don’t lie and make this about Natsume.” Mikan is petulant. “We spent so many years apart, the least we could do is—“

“No,” Hotaru breaks in. “You are a slob, you never clean up after yourself, there are crumbs in the bed. Plus, you drool, and you move around in your sleep. And you sleeptalk. Only Hyuuga deserves to put up with this. Not someone like me.”

Mikan pouts. “Where are you going to stay?” Upon seeing Hotaru’s face, horror dawns upon her. “Hotaru, no.”

“Nogi was kind enough to offer, who am I to refuse his hospitality?”

“Is Ruka not going back to France?” Mikan is shocked. “He’s just leaving his entire house to you?”

Hotaru looks into her luggage. “Well, it appears that he’s staying in Japan for the time being. To open a Japanese branch for his clinic.”

Mikan is scandalized. “So you’re willing to be roommates with him, but not with me? Hotaru!”

“He’s not going to bother or distract me. I have a multi billion dollar corporation to launch. I have all these years to catch up on. Stop pouting, you look ugly.”

“Hmph!” Mikan snorts. She takes a different angle. “At least let me visit.”

“Twice a month.”

“Hotaru! Twice a day.”

“Twice a week.”

“Seven times a week.”

“Seven times a week for half an hour each.”

“One hour. I’ll be quiet. I can be quiet, you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Hotaru smirks. “Fine. You have yourself a deal.” She closes the suitcase and secures the clasp, pulling it as she drags it out of the room. Mikan follows, a little woefully.

“How are you getting there, at least?”

“Oh,” Hotaru smiles. “I called in a few favors.”

Outside the house, a familiar blonde Frenchman sits atop a big, grey elephant. The two of them are happy, playing around, unawares of the gaping brunette and the pair of unimpressed violet eyes.

“It’s just as sickening as I remember,” Hotaru mutters.

“You’re insane, Hotaru!” Mikan whispers.

When Ruka notices them, he blushes. “Hi, Mikan! Hi, Imai! Are you ready to go?”

“You heard the man.” Hotaru turns to her best friend. “Wanna ride with me?”

“HOTARU! I love you!” Mikan leaps and crashes into her best friend. “You know the answer’s forever yes.”

Yes, it was forever Mikan and Hotaru, and Hotaru and Mikan. They had found ways to be together no matter how big the obstacles that faced them were. The future was going to be no different — there was undoubtedly going to be a great amount of uncertainties, but Hotaru and Mikan would find a way to be together through it all. Because it was Mikan and Hotaru and Hotaru and Mikan. They belonged to each other.

—

For @crimsoncitrus who requested a Hotaru and Mikan fic! This got so much longer than anticipated, sorry (*´ω｀*) hope you enjoy!!

#gakuen alice #alice academy #imai hotaru #hotaru imai #mikan sakura #sakura Mikan #natsumikan #slight rukaru if u squint #gakuen alice headcanons #alice academy headcanons

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fieldsofplay · 4 years

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Favorite Albums of 2020

25. Dehd – Flower of Devotion

Rather than look back on the shit year that was 2020, lets keep our eye on the hope of the horizon. Speaking of which, Dehd herald much of what’s to come on this here list. While as previously mentioned a shit year for most everything besides presidential politics, 2020 proved to be a great year for good old fashioned guitar music. Could I be accused of curling up with my version of musical comfort food? Perhaps. But starting off with Dehd, we have a type of band that used to be everywhere and now seems to be almost nowhere. Jangly lo-fi guitars, perky drums, and straightforward unadorned singing. About five years ago you couldn’t throw a rock in Brooklyn without hitting a band like this, but now that that fad is long gone. I’m glad that Chicago’s Dehd are still carrying the torch.

24. Perfume Genius – Set My Heart on Fire Immediately

I’ve always liked Perfume Genius, but for whatever reason Set My Heart on Fire Immediately is the album that took him out of the realm of casual background musical encounter to something I sought out. Chamber pop has never really been my thing (except for those couple summers where Grizzly Bear was totally my jam), but here the torch songs catch fire by the compressed force of Michael Hadreas’ longing. This record also pulls off the impressive feat of each song gradually morphing just a bit from what proceeds it, so that the whole record sounds similar and yet each song carves out its own little generic niche, the whole thing united by the quivering power of that pleading voice.

23. 2nd Grade – Hit to Hit

If you ever found yourself wondering what Guided by Voices would sound like if they wanted to be Big Star instead of punk rock Kinks, we now have the answer, and it’s Phily’s 2nd Grade. In the noble tradition of Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes, Hit to Hit’s 24 tracks breeze by in a mere 41 minutes and 8 seconds. An earworm sunny melody, a quick guitar hook, a second verse (maybe), and poof, each song is gone before you could ever miss it. You would think variation would be difficult working within such tight musical corners, but while each song clearly shares common DNA, there is actually a lot of variance here, from weepy country ditties (“Bye Bye Texas”) to overdriven stompers (“Baby’s First Word”) though they all tend to orbit the same (big) star.

22. Tame Impala – The Slow Rush

I’ll be the first to admit that The Slow Rush isn’t my favorite Tame Impala record, not by a long shot. Having said that, this album still feels like it got short shrift this year (not that anyone can really complain about that in these here times). If we never knew that Lonerism or Innerspeaker or Currents existed, I wonder how much people would be head over heels for this album. “One More Year” “Is It True” and “Posthumous Forgiveness” are all top notch Impala jams. Seems like this album is the soundtrack for the chilled out summer hangs that we never got to have, and thus it’s fitting that it seems condemned for the ash-heap of history rather than the late-night come downs we never got up to.

21. Against All Logic – 2017 – 2019

Ah, speaking of complicated musical relationships, I can never seem to chart a clear course with Nicolas Jaar. The music he puts out under his own name never seems to do much for me, but I dug his collaboration with Dave Harrington as Darkside, and I really love most everything he’s put out as Against All Logic. While admittedly not a great year for house music—normally a liberating genre of communal interconnectivity, now a cruel reminder that we all live in Footloose—a banger remains a banger, and 2017-2019 is full to the brim with them. While I honestly can’t remember the last time I went dancing, I’ll still crank up “Fantasy” and bop around my living room, literally dancing by myself (lets be honest, something I would have done pandemic or no).

20. Fiona Apple – Fetch the Bolt Cutters

Fetch the Bolt Cutters has had a lot of great things said about it this year, so I don’t really have to add that much. What I will say is this is perhaps the most interesting percussion I’ve ever heard on a record. There is percussion all over the place, but almost none of it in the form of full-kit drumming. Fiona always used the left hand on the piano as the rhythmic center of her songs, but here there is drilling, tapping, rapping, patting. The phrase DIY gets tossed around all the time (and almost never applied to big money, big label Fiona) but to me the most impressive thing about this record is how it always sounds like she is sitting at a rickety upright piano in the corner of a living room, while everyone congregating around keeps the beat by tapping on pots and pans, the walls, whatever is at hand. I’ve truly never heard anything like it.

19. Advertisement – American Advertisement

Godbless Seattle’s Advertisement. So long as there is cheap beer, old shitty cars driving with the windows down, and the U-SofA, there’ll be bands like Advertisement. Straight out of the vein of Cheap Trick and the more recent White Reaper, Advertisement play power pop with the emphasis on the power. Sometimes this type of music gets called sleazy, but honestly I don’t get it. I think its probably because you can imagine it playing while Wooderson drives around Austin looking for redheads. While we rightfully cancelled the song of summer this year, “Upstream Boogie” would have gotten my vote, perfect for backyard bbqs and cannonballing into creeks.

18. Nation of Language – Introduction, Presence

I didn’t set it up this way, but if Advertisement has a diametric opposite, its probably Nation of Language. Where Advertisement is all frayed edges and foam, Nation of Language is as buttoned up as those terrible sports jackets people wore in the early ‘90s. While its not as good as my beloved Black Marble, those bands share enough DNA to make me a big fan of this synth pop gem. It’s not as dark as the cold-wave Black Marble, but it does share that bands fondness for stark baselines and crisp arpeggios. If you’ve ever envisioned your life as a scene from a John Hughes movie, Nation of Language could easily be playing in the background.

17. The Soft Pink Truth – Shall we Go on Sinning so that Grace May Increase?

Indulge me in a moment of naval gazing. Every year as I put these things together I reach a point where I’m lack “damn, this album is this low on the list?” And the point at which that thought enters my head is usually indicative of how good a year for music it was. Now 2020 wasn’t a good year for anything, and I probably spent the least time of any year listening to music, new, old, whatever. For the most part I just listened to the Grateful Dead and ambient albums. However, for my idiosyncratic tastes, 2020 was actually a pretty fucking incredible year for new music, as evinced by the fact that this album is all the way down at 17.

Earlier on in 2020 as I was bombarding my poor local music text thread with yet more of my inane musings, I think I declared this a top 3 album of the year. And I wasn’t lying! “Pretty” is often a dirty word in aesthetic appreciation, but this is certainly the “prettiest” album of the year in the best sense of the word. From the Drew Daniel half of Matmos comes Shall we Go on Sinning so that Grace May Increase? A record that is somehow simultaneously deep house and feather light, so much so that it needs its own dumb internet music writing moniker—shallow house? wide house? vacation house? (actually kinda like that last one). With vocals from Jana Hunter, Angel Deradoorian, and Colin Self (with whom I wasn’t previously familiar) this thing will simultaneously make you want to tap your foot and drift off into the clouds. This is album is like the prayer Madonna sang about all those years ago.

16. Kurt Vile – Speed, Sound, Lonely KV

It’s not at all surprising that if Kurt Vile decided he wanted to go country western he’d be really fucking good at it. First of all, he’s an exceptional acoustic guitar picker. Secondly, his voice, while always befitting his hazed out urban rockers, has just enough twang to it that in retrospect it always sounded a little bit country. This record also gives me room to offer up an homage to the late great John Prine, for whom the EP is essentially a tribute. Vile covers two Prine songs, dueting with the man himself on “How Lucky.” Saying goodbye is never easy, but on Speed, Sound, Lonely (both the album, and the song more or less by that name) Vile manages a fitting tribute to a lost legend.

15. Lomelda – Hannah

The reviews of Hannah really did Lomelda a disservice. Sure, they were glowing, but they made it sound like this was some weepy milquetoast singer songwriter affair, when it’s actually a knotty album full off elliptical piano and fuzzed out electric guitar. Its 14 tracks hurtle by, largely due to the fact that almost all of them are under 3 and a ½ minutes. Things really get going with the second track, “Hannah Sun” with is squiggly synth effects and driving acoustic strums carrying on Hannah Read’s musings. It’s an album of relentless forward musical movement even if the vibe feels like it’s always looking back over its shoulder. Basically this album is what emo would sound like if it wasn’t made by the worst people in the universe.

14. Shabaka and the Ancestors – We are Sent here by History

Jazz! Another great year for jazz (Asher Gamedze’s Dialectic Soul and Keefe Jackson, Jim Baker, & Julian Kirshner’s So Glossy and So Thin are with a strong group that just missed the cut). In the midst of an excellent jazz renaissance (you gotta use super annoying words like “renaissance” when talking about jazz) Shebaka Hutchins remains my absolute fave of the bunch, and We are Sent here by History is probably my favorite thing he has put out so far.

13. Waxahatchee – Saint Cloud

While I really liked Waxahatchee’s low-fi emoish debut—American Weekend—I’ll readily admit I wasn’t much about the popier albums that followed, frequently jesting, honestly, that Allison was my preferred musical Crutchfield sister. All that changed for me with Saint Cloud. I’ve certainly drifted far off into country and Americana as I’ve aged, and it appears the same came be said for Katie Crutchfield. These songs have a giddyup to them but they never break out into a gallop, allowing the strength of the melodies to carry them along across the plains, with just the right hint of twilight. Saint Cloud is the sound of Patsy Cline if she played to roadside inns rather than the Grand Ol’ Opry.

12. Neil Young – Homegrown

This was the hardest album to place on the list this year. For starters, should it even count? Clearly I say yes. While some of these songs have been available for over 30 years, as an album, Homegrown was a “new” release here in 2020, even though it was originally slated to come out in ’75 between On the Beach (my personal fave Neil record) and Zuma. As a pure piece of music, is it better than most, if not all, of the records that follow? Of course yes. But what does a new Neil Young record mean in 2020? As a thought experiment its fascinating. Do we value this album within the musical context of 2020 or 1975? Fortunately, it’s an even more enjoyable listen than it is a thought experiment. From the first strums of “Separate Ways” you’re like “oh shit, this is the vintage stuff.” Gentle amber acoustic numbers (“Try”) share space with electric stompers (“Vacancy”). The best thing you can say about Homegrown is that if Neil had originally decided to release this instead of Tonight’s The Night, it would have fit right in amongst his unimpeachable run from Everybody Knows This is Nowhere up through Zuma. A classic is still a classic, no matter what year it finally sees the light of day.

11. Destroyer – Have we Met

Ah Dan Bejar, boy was I wrong about you. I kinda got into Destroyer’s Rubies, I loved his contributions to Swan Lake and The New Pornographers, but yet when Chinatown started really making waves, I just couldn’t do it. It was soft rock! I hate soft rock! I hate everything about it! This preconceived notion wasn’t helped by the fact that I saw him open for the War on Drugs in Pontiac once and he was so drunk he could barely stand up and had to read his own lyrics from a sheet. And yet, for some reason I never really gave up on it. I can’t tell you why exactly, but two summers ago Chinatown just slowly became my go-to for early morning / late afternoon strolls. I found comfort in giving myself over to its pillowy soft embrace / cheating on my own aesthetic judgments. Now that I’m card-carrying Bejarhead, I greeted Have we Met with open arms, and I was not disappointed. The synths glimmer, the guitars add just enough punch, and his lyrics remain sharp as ever. Its fitting that this was the last concert I saw before the iron curtain fell. The one thing I had always turned my back on ended up being the last memory of dionysian group enthrallment I had to carry with me out into the desert of social isolation. Come back soon Destroyer, come back soon, everyone.

10. Deeper – Auto-Pain

Ladies and gentlemen, get ready, because post punk is back! I always say my favorite genre is ‘sad songs you can dance to’ but post punk is a close second. When I was in college post punk underwent a bit of a renaissance in the form of Interpol (back when they were still good), Bloc Party (ditto), Franz Ferdinand, and a whole slew of British one hit wonders (Maximo Park, Futureheads, Art Brut, the Bravery). Fortunately, as is always the case, what’s old is new again, and stark melodic bass lines, angular guitars, and moody introspective speak-singing are back in full force. Of the three post punk bands gracing this here top ten (Deeper, Fontaines DC, and Crack Cloud) each has its own little slice of the generic pie. Fontaines have the deep gloom of Interpol/Joy Division, Crack Cloud ripple with the staccato energy of Gang of Four, and Deeper have the wiry dancieness of, well, Wire. So long as leather jackets and black and white photography remain cool, there’ll always be bands like this, and thank god for that. In a true sign o’ the times, I learned about this band from some random girl’s Tik Tok in my for-you feed. She repped five bands, two of which are in my top three, so I was like, sure I’ll give this band Deeper a go. God bless the internet. Finally, Deeper get bonus points for naming a song “This Heat,” who I’ve been spending a lot of time revisiting this year, and whose spikey guitars are all over this record.

9. The Flaming Lips – American Head

There are few things as satisfying in art as being genuinely surprised by a beloved artist you had given up as culturally dead. Since putting out their last masterpiece (2009’s Embryonic) the Lips have put out a string of good, if inconsequential, albums that befitting the ethos of the band could best be described as half baked (The Terror, Oczy Moldy, and a series of collaborative experiments). Basically, they had reached that dreaded nadir where I was no longer interested in listening to their new output (cough The National, cough cough Arcade Fire). So what made me give American Head a chance? That reader, is the point of art criticism! I can’t remember how the blurb on pitchfork read exactly, but I knew it referenced Tom Petty and a return to a preoccupation with more Earthly concerns—namely ‘70s heartland rock. Well, this sounded intriguing, and boy was I not disappointed. Sure, the Flaming Lips have already reached their sell-by date twice over (first in 1992, immediately followed by their MTV reinvention on 1993’s Transmissions from the Satellite Heart; and then again in the late ‘90s with the departure of guitarist Ronald Jones, followed by their creative pinnacle, ‘99’s symphonic masterpiece The Soft Bulletin), so it shouldn’t be all that surprising that this band could rise from the dead a third time. Only, for the most part, they didn’t. I guess I’m not surprised that American Head failed to reach a broader audience. Most people probably aren’t even aware that they are still a going concern, and after the failures of the last decade it makes sense that most weren’t interested in more tunes from the Oklahoma freaknicks. But for those willing to give the band another chance, American Head easily delivers their best album since Embryonic, if not all the way back to Yoshimi. Mixing ‘70s Americana with the star gazing of Soft Bulletin’s “Sleeping on the Roof,” the Lips deliver their best album in decades by foregoing the parlor tricks and returning to what they do best, taking trips to distant galaxies while keeping their feet firmly planted in the soil and songcraft of Oklahoma.

8. Cut Worms – Nobody Lives Here Anymore

This one is pretty easy. Do you like George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass? If yes, listen to Nobody Lives Here Anymore and revel in this double album’s upbeat acoustic rock mediations. If no, well there’s plenty of other good stuff out there. Not quite as metaphysical or orchestral as All Things Must Pass, Nobody Lives Here Anymore still manages to hit that rockabiliy-pop sweet spot that Harrison used to mine. I’m not quite sure what the definition of “troubadour” is, but it feels safe to call Cut Worms a troubadour, which is certainly better than his terrible stage name.

7. Cigarettes for Breakfast – Aphantasia

Similar to Cut Worms, Cigarettes for Breakfast also involves a simple influence equation. Do you pray at the altar of Loveless? If so, Aphantasia is just the record for you. Sure, it’s a bit of My Bloody Valentine paint by numbers (“Breathe” even features the same squally guitar noise [it’s really hard to try and describe My Bloody Valentine effects ha] as “Soft as Snow (But Warm Inside)”) but when you’re as into shoegaze as I am, that’s never really a bad thing. Plus, I’m being a bit unfair. Everyone with textured tremolo heavy wall-of-sound guitars and cooed vocals is going to inevitably be compared to MBV, and Cigarettes for Breakfast do enough to chart their own course. Perhaps most interesting is the musical journey this record charts. Its loudest moment is its opening, where pummeling guitars more reminiscent of Sonic Youth with a touch of Dinosaur Jr. rip across hardcore style drumming. From there each song becomes a little more ambient, until closer “If Someone Could Help Me, Please” more or less floats away on its shimmering sheets of beautiful noise clouds. In this sense, it bears a resemblance in structure, if not in sound, to Deerhunter’s Cryptograms, another album I spent a lot of time revisiting this year. A shutout here is owed to the fine folks at Radio K, who had me diving for my shazam as this thing ripped across their airwaves. So long as there is college radio, there’ll be a new crop of kids discovering via Kevin Shields that the electric guitar contains endless sonic possibilities.

6. Fontaines D.C. – A Hero’s Death

The second entry in our top-ten post punk trio is A Hero’s Death by Fontaines D.C. I’ll admit, on first blush it’s kind of a dumb band name (I just assumed they were some hardcore band from Washington DC chasing those Dischord Records glory days), but when you learn that the “DC” stands for Dublin City, it all clicks, as this band is sorta inescapably Irish in the way that James Joyce is. Now this fact at first was also off-putting—if I went the rest of my life without ever hearing the Dropkick Murphy’s again I’d be quite content—but eventually it becomes integral to their sound, and not just because of the brogue in Garin Chatten’s vocals. “Love is the Main Thing” is an incredible song in many ways, most notably because of the hypnotic quality of the drumming with its counterpoint between riding cymbal and staccato toms, but perhaps in the main (*wink*) for the way it manages to connote the weariness of a grey urban environment without ever being explicitly about it. Just as Turn on the Bright Lights managed to perfectly capture New York in 2001, A Hero’s Death to me is the aural equivalent of a dense urban center like Dublin, especially after nightfall.

5. Imaginary Softwoods – Annual Flowers in Color

It should come as no surprise that I listened to A LOT of ambient this year, and to me there was no better electronic record to chill the fuck out to during this insane year than Annual Flowers in Color. I absolutely loved Emeralds’ Does it Look Like I’m Here? and was devastated they never followed that gem (*wink*) up. In the immediate aftermath of the demise of Emeralds Mark McGuire’s solo albums got a lot of attention, but apparently the person I really loved in Emeralds was Imaginary Softwoods’ John Elliot. Annual Flowers in Color is like if Dead City’s, Red Seas, Lost Ghosts were waiting in the departure’s lounge of Eno’s airport. At the heart of the album lies the 10 plus minutes of “Another First/Sea Machine.” I could listen to this song forever, and on some particularly WTF 2020 lakewalks I more or less have. Chunky synths, arpeggios that drift off to infinity, ‘80s soundtrack nostalgia. I could live in these Softwoods for the rest of my sonic days.

4. Pottery – Welcome to Bobby’s Motel

In another moment of nostalgia for my college years, Pottery are a welcome return to weird ass experimental Canadian bands. They don’t sound anything like the Unicorns, but in spirit Pottery kind of remind me of them. I’ve spilled a lot of digital ink here and elsewhere bemoaning the fact that Pitchfork (or perhaps, me) isn’t cool anymore, and to me no band embodies this more than Pottery. They take a bunch of fun disparate elements—Talking Heads dance art rock, periodic weird pitch shifted vocal effects, hazy deep purple style guitars, and Queen style machismo disco—throw them into a witch’s cauldron, and come up with something off the wall that sounds like nothing else but is also instantly familiar. This is the type of thing Pitchfork would have been all over in 2007, but instead now they’re too busy chasing conde nast clout clicks. Oh well, nothing gold can last. But enough negativity, this here is a celebration of the joy of new music, and no new band embodies that unbridled joy like Pottery. Along with Fontaines DC, this is the band I wish I most could have bopped around to with a bunch of sweaty strangers in the 7th St. Entry or Turf Club. You can just imagine the call and response vocals and funky grooves getting the people moving. Oh well, hopefully we’ll soon all be rocking the vaccine, they can breeze through town, and I’ll be the first person on the dance floor embarrassingly pumping my fist a half beat behind the rhythm.

3. Pure X – Pure X

To paraphrase Same Elliott in the Big Lebowski, sometimes there’s a band, and well, sometimes there’s a band. For me this year, that band was Pure X. I absolutely loved their debut Pleasure way back in 2011, when lo-fi reverb heavy slow guitar music (ie, Galaxie 500) was all the rage. Their follow up Crawling up the Stairs was so bad I didn’t even bother listening to Angel, though perhaps that also owed a decent amount to just how terrible the art on that record is. (I’ve since remedied this mistake; turns out that record rules). Being that as it may, I can’t particularly tell you what drew me in to this year’s self-titled album, a full nine years after Pleasure first graced the stage. In one sense it’s probably because Pleasure is one those albums that just never went out of my rotation. Whenever the fahrenheit tips past 90 and the walk to the bodega is a few blocks longer than you’d like, that record always hits the spot. Maybe I just knew this was the record I needed this year. Either way, from the first bars of “Middle America” I was hooked. The guitars crash over you, but never in a threatening way. Rather, they envelop you like a weighted blanket, comforting you in their sonic embrace. Nowhere is this more true than on “Fantasy,” easily my favorite song of 2020 (especially since this was a year entirely devoid of dance floor bangers). If this album came out in 1999 rather than 2020 I would have hit the repeat button on my discman and listened to this song forever.

2. Crack Cloud – Pain Olympics

Pain Olympics is the answer to the question that no one asked: what if Arcade Fire’s (back when they were good) communal uplift was paired with Gang of Four’s stark anthem’s of industrialism’s collapse? While on first blush this might sound like your standard album of punkish fist pumping angst, from when the female vocals (sorry there are too many people in this band for me to be able to figure out whose who) come in on opener “Post Truth (Birth of a Nation)” Pain Olympics reveals itself to be a very strange animal (likely a unicorn of some sort), especially as little orchestral swirls creep into the mix, giving it an almost Judy Garland (in hell) quality. This subtle genre pastiche is given its best effect on stunner “The Next Fix.” That song starts out as an elastic spoken-word call and response addiction rumination, at the minute mark it starts to segue into a vocoded chill raver, then some horns crop up out of nowhere, then a spoken word passage, then at the two minute mark a chorus of voices come in, doing their best Broken Social Scene in the truest sense of the phrase. This is perhaps one of the strangest records I’ve ever heard, but what is strangest of all is just how beautiful it is. Crack Cloud are not for everyone, but if you really give it a chance, the returns are limitless.

1. SAULT – Untitled (Rise) / Untitled (Black Is)

You cannot tell the story of 2020 without SAULT, which is why this pair of records is here at the top, even if under the influence of sodium pentothal (lets be honest, veritaserum) I might lean more towards Pain Olympics. In June, the “anonymous” London project put out Untitled (Black Is), and then quickly followed that gem up with September’s Untitled (Rise). Perhaps more amazing still is that these two albums, released so close together, have unique personalities. Black Is is more pop/R&B whereas Rise has a dancy, electr(on)ic feel. I lean more towards the latter, but honestly, both albums are so overstuffed with amazing moments that it’s borderline unbelievable that one outfit could put out so much amazing music in such a short span. While these records would chart high even if sung in Hopelandic, there’s no escaping the social import of the lyrics. One need look no further than Black Is’s “Don’t Shoot Guns Down” for the 2020 dance party at the end of the world. As if that weren’t more than enough, it finds its analogue on Rise’s “Street Fighter,” and that’s SAULT in a nutshell: two albums in constant communication with one another, and more importantly, with the state of the world. Guns down. Don’t Shoot. Let’s dance.

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