#she works better then that apple pen ever did

[ckret2]

The most unpleasant breakfast.

I feel like this picture is a perfect summary of the fic so far.

Chapter 6 of The Pines Capture Human Bill Cipher But Can't Tell Anybody Because They Don't Know Whether Killing Him Will Restart Weirdmageddon (title TBD). Chapters one, two, three, four, and five, and I've gotta get a masterpost or something.

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The group asking for a seat at the truck stop diner was an odd sight: three adult men; two children; and one disheveled barefoot lunatic in a cartoon pony toga, handcuffs, a chain restricting one arm, and the dirt-smeared remains of a butterfly marker mask. But truckers and odd sights were the only things you saw at a truck stop on the outskirts of Gravity Falls at three a.m., and the handcuffed guest wasn't blinking SOS in Morse code, so the weary party was escorted to the round corner booth without question. They sandwiched Bill between Soos and Stan and silently awaited their menus.

"Hey, I'm Dani, I'll be taking care of you tonight." A waitress passed out menus to the group, hesitated uncertainly with a couple of paper kids' menus in front of Dipper and Mabel, and handed them over when Mabel made grabby hands for the accompanying four-pack of crayons. "Can I start you off with some coffee, or...?" Dani's gaze fell on Bill, and she beamed. "Oh, hey! Toga Lady! Hi!"

Bill gave her a puzzled smile and raised brows. "Hello?"

"Oh, yeah dude!" Soos laughed. "Wendy got a picture of you the last time you came by. You're totally a local meme now."

"Okay, I've gotta know." The waitress gestured at Bill's ensemble with her pen. "What's your story?"

"Well—" Bill opened his mouth, and froze; and the whole table went still as they simultaneously had the same realization.

If anybody revealed Bill's identity, in Gravity Falls, the epicenter of Weirdmageddon, they'd have a mob on their hands. At worst the town would rip Bill to shreds, and at best they'd throw him in a cell so they could schedule his shredding for a pleasant Saturday afternoon when more people could watch. Bill couldn't risk the possibility that he'd die for good, and the humans couldn't risk the possibility that he'd be re-released as a triangle.

None of them could reveal anything.

And all of them knew it.

"Party," Bill said. And then, warming to the cover story, he went on: "This is my party uniform. A little anachronistic, but what can I say? There's nothing I like better than being the center of attention at a wild party!" He cast a sideways glance toward the Stan twins. "Until the fun police break it up."

Ford grumbled, "Partying wasn't the problem. You were going to burn down the town."

"You get so worked up over a little bonfire, sheesh." Bill rolled his eyes, leaned toward the waitress, and said, "These geek types, I tell you. Some people wouldn't recognize a good time if it appeared to them in a divine vision."

"Maybe if I ever had a divine vision..."

Bill shot Ford a dirty look. They quickly broke off their mutual glare, conscious of Dani curiously watching, and Bill breezily explained, "He had a bad trip and still blames me for it."

Dani laughed. "You're crazy! What's your real name, Toga Lady?"

Bill hesitated. "Guess!"

"What?"

"Guess! It's a game. You guess mine, I'll guess yours."

She looked down at her name tag. "I already told you my name's Dani."

"But did you tell me it's Danielle Miranda?"

Her eyebrows shot up.

Bill beamed. "I'll give you three guesses! While you're thinking about that, could we get a round of coffee, and... do you serve anything more toxic than mildly spoiled apple juice? No? Just coffee."

"And a chocolate shake," Mabel threw in.

Bill's eyes lit up. "Make that two."

Stan snapped, "I am not paying for you to get a chocolate shake." Bill sighed.

Once the waitress was gone, Bill said, "Trauma still disrupts humans' long-term memories, right? Have the locals forgotten my name yet?"

"Yeah, no, everyone remembers," Soos said. "I know two different Williams that got their names legally changed."

Bill groaned. "Great. Terrific! Fine. My last pseudonym was getting stale anyway, it's about time I find a new one. All right, what have we got, toss out some ideas." At the others' blank looks, he said, "I've spent the last couple of days getting starved, beaten, and literally killed. All I'm coming up with is 'Not-Bill' and 'the letter A.' Somebody else think of something."

Stan let out a loud sigh. "Who cares? Bob."

"No."

"Will."

"No, and you're stupid."

"Hey—!"

Ignoring Stan's irritation, Bill looked around the table. "Anyone else?"

The others at the table considered the question. Soos said, "Ferdinand. I think Ferdinand is way cool."

"Coming out of you, that's not the high recommendation you think it is, Questiony."

Soos winced. "Ouch."

"C'mon, give me something that sounds a little bit like me."

Dipper said, "Troy Angle?" Mabel laughed.

Bill didn't. "Troy again."

Ford ventured, "Xanthe?"

"Ha. Sure, just call me 'yellow hair,' why not. I like the direction you're thinking—"

Stan—whose barely-suppressed rage at this whole situation had been steadily building back up since Bill called him stupid—snapped, "Why are we looking for a name he'll like? Why does he get any say in this! I say we call him whatever he can pronounce through a mouthful of broken teeth! Because when I'm through with this sonovab—"

Bill blocked his view of Stan's threatening fist by holding up his menu. "But Stanley's got a point, I need a simple name. How many Americans know how to spell Ξανθή?"

"Get this stupid thing out of my—"

Mabel stood and slammed her hands on the table, interrupting the brewing argument. "GOLDILOCKS!"

Bill erupted into a peal of laughter that made the rest of the table flinch. His handcuffs clattered as he smacked his hands on the table and he leaned toward Mabel. "Yes yes yes YES! You've got it! That's perfect!" It was like a light switch had flipped on in Bill, suddenly re-energizing him. Eyes crinkling in genuine amusement, Bill said, "You know, I like you, kid. You're the one with the fun ideas!"

Mabel blinked in surprise, any pleasure at the unexpected compliment dampened by the knowledge that being liked by Bill was never a good thing. Miffed, Dipper said, "Hey, I made a pun."

"I don't like puns."

Ford said, "If you'd please stop trying to win over my grand-niece with flattery..." but fell silent as Dani came back with drinks.

She passed coffee around, set a chocolate shake down for Mabel, set a second one down for Bill—"On the house"—and winked. "Is it Rumpelstiltskin?"

Bill cracked up again. "No, but give me three hours and a particle accelerator and I could teach you to spin straw into gold!"

"Worth a shot." Dani laughed. "Okay, is everyone ready to order?"

There was an awkward pause. Soos finally said, "Oh man, we all got to talking and completely forgot to look at the menu. Can you give us like five minutes?"

"Sure. Just wave when you're ready." 

The group steeled themselves to the task of picking a meal, which felt far too mundane for such a bizarre night. Dipper frowned at the paper kids' menu he'd been handed. "Hey, Soos. Can I look at your menu when you're done...?"

Wordlessly, Bill stole Dipper's menu and crayon box and slid over his adult menu.

"... Thanks."

Bill had already dumped out the crayons and started drawing triangles on the menu. "Don't mention it!"

By the time Dani returned, Bill had covered a quarter of the menu in tiny doodles of his own triangular face, reluctantly scratched them out after Soos pointed out he could get arrested for those, and covered half the rest in countless eyes. Soos ordered a burger, Stan ordered bacon and eggs, Ford ordered an omelet, Dipper ordered an omelet too not because Ford did but because it sounded good and maybe he wanted to try one okay that's all, Mabel ordered rainbow sprinkle chocolate pancakes, and Bill ordered a banana octopus pancake and a side of bacon "as floppy as you can make it" over Stan's objections to letting Bill get a side item.

"And raw bacon. Got it." Dani closed her notebook, gave Bill a considering look, and said, "Is it Blondie?"

"Ha! No! But you've been a good sport so I'll give you a hint! It's something in between your first two guesses."

"Huh..." Dani considered that a moment; then noticed Bill trying to pick up his shake with handcuffs on. "Do you... need help with those? I think our gas station next door's got bolt cutters."

Firmly, Ford said, "We've got bolt cutters at home." Bill gave Dani an apologetic shrug.

As soon as Dani was gone again, Ford leaned forward. "All right, Bill. If you're going to be in our house for who-knows-how-long, we need to establish some ground rules."

"Boy, do we ever," Bill said, with the confidence of somebody who assumed he'd have an equal say in deciding what the rules were.

Ford went on without acknowledging Bill. "For now, we can lock you back in the cellar—"

"Cellar's right under the gift shop," Stan pointed out. "I was thinking a storage closet. Just stuff him in there and pile a bunch of furniture in front of the door."

"You know, Stanley, I think that would be safer," Ford said, like he was trying to pretend he liked the idea based on safety rather than based on how satisfying it would be to make Bill as uncomfortable as possible. "Although I'm sure Bill knows he'll just be putting himself in danger if he makes enough noise to catch anyone's attention—so there's rule number one, no sounds. And once I've done some repairs, we can move him to the bunker..."

"No, I don't think so," Bill said. "I don't like that at all."

Coolly, Ford said, "Well, Bill, you're our prisoner, so we can do what we want, you don't get a say in it, and you don't have to like it. In fact, the more you dislike it, the more I think I do like it."

Stan laughed, elbowing Ford. "Took the words right out of my mouth."

"But that's just the thing—I do get a say in it," Bill said. "I'm as worried as anyone else about what might happen if this body is killed—but there are fates worse than death, aren't there? Like boredom, for instance. You know what I'm talking about, right?" He gave Mabel an appealing look.

She doggedly avoided making eye contact, slurping her shake.

Bill shrugged and returned his attention to Ford. "You know and I know that you're only keeping me alive until you can think of a better way to kill me—and that gives me an advantage. It means I've got nothing to lose. If I'm not living a life that's at least barely tolerable, then your only way to stop me from choosing death on my terms instead of your terms is by sticking me in an artificial coma." His smile stretched wider. "And are you really, really sure I don't know a way to kill myself in my sleep?"

Ford and Stan's scowls deepened the longer Bill spoke. Stan muttered, "If he's gonna be like that, it's not too late to just kill him and get it over with."

Ford shook his head. "What do you consider intolerable conditions."

"Being locked in one little room with nowhere to stretch my legs, no entertainment, and no company. Abandon me in your bunker? Once I get tired of the scenery, I'm bashing my skull in."

"And if we lock you in the cellar?"

"Then I'm screaming for help until someone calls the cops, and we all get to learn what they find more convincing: 'You've gotta believe me, this lady is secretly Bill Cipher in disguise,' or 'Help me, officer, these lunatics think I'm some kind of demon pyramid!'" Bill rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking for much. Just a little mobility. A few rooms I can move freely in, the occasional conversation, a window or two I can look out of..."

"In other words," Ford said, "if we don't want you to do anything drastic, we need to give you a slight chance to escape."

"See, this is why you're the smart one!" Bill graced Ford with a brilliant smile. "And in return, you've bought yourselves time to look for a guaranteed way to finish me off. It'll be like a game: can you figure out how to get rid of me before I find a way out?"

"I stopped playing games with you a long time ago, Cipher."

"We never stopped playing. You just stopped having fun."

Their negotiations were interrupted by Dani's return. She distributed their meals, then said, "Okay, I've got two guesses. They're dumb, though."

"I'll allow it!"

"Rapunzel or Goldilocks."

"Hey, guess number four! Smart girl! Give her a nice tip, Stanley."

"Stop trying to spend my money."

Dani laughed. "You're joking!"

"No, really! Goldilocks!"

"No, no way. You're totally lying."

Studying her face to gauge how much of her skepticism was sincere, Bill amended himself, "Okay, okay—first name Goldie, last name Locke. Funny though, right?"

"I didn't think I'd get it. Goldilocks the Toga Lady. Ha! You guys enjoy your meals."

Once she was out of hearing range, Ford said, "Here's your situation. You're trapped in a small geographic bubble and surrounded by enemies. You have no money, no identification, no connections, and if you still have any powers at all, they're clearly dampened or we'd be dead by now. Your options are limited even if you do escape—so before you try, think how much less latitude we'll give you once we catch you."

"Sounds like somebody's about to agree to my terms."

Ford glanced at Stan, to see if he wanted to voice any objections; then Soos, as the current owner of the shack; then the kids, with a silent apology for what this would mean for their summer; and when no one protested, Ford said, "You'll stay in the main shack. You can go anywhere that isn't closed behind a door—that means the kitchen, the living room, the R&D room, and the attic. You don't get to enter any room behind a door without supervision. You don't get access to tools, poisons, or anything you could potentially use as a weapon. No phone, no computer, no borrowing anybody's cellular phones, but you can use the TV."

"Question."

"Yes?"

"How will disputes over what to watch on TV be resolved."

"Everybody in the house gets priority over you."

"Now you're just being petty. You won't even say we could vote on TV selections?"

"Fine, let's vote. Who's in favor of being petty and never letting Bill choose what to watch?"

Everyone but Bill raised a hand.

Bill laughed. "Okay, I walked into that! But I want books."

"Fine. You can have books."

"And writing materials."

"Under supervision only."

"Sheesh, paranoid. Okay. And a radio."

Ford considered that.

"Come on, you don't think I could get into trouble with a radio."

"You can use the record player."

"Nobody uses records anymore. I want a CD player."

"Fine."

"Fine." Satisfied, Bill picked up the maple syrup bottle and poured way too much on his pancakes.

Mabel cast a quick, envious glance at Bill's banana octopus. It had chocolate chip eyes and was way cuter than she'd expected.

Bill caught her glance, gave her sugary pile of sprinkles and chocolate an equally covetous look, and said, "Want to go half and half?"

She shoved her plate over. "Like you wouldn't believe!"

Dipper hissed, "Mabel," and Mabel flinched, guiltily glancing toward Ford to see if the Head Bill Cipher Expert had any objections to the pancake swap. Ford grimaced, but said nothing. Mabel had already agreed and Ford couldn't think of anything Bill could have done to an untampered-with plate of pancakes, and if Ford objected on principle he'd just end up making himself look like the bad guy—which he had a sneaking suspicion Bill would immediately pounce on.

Meanwhile, Bill certainly hadn't waited to see if Ford approved. He mercilessly sawed his mushy cephalopod in half, the swap was made before anyone could protest Mabel sharing her bounty of sugar with the worst person in the universe, and Bill gleefully added more maple syrup to his new source of sweet sensory overload. He scooped up a forkful of pancakes, stuck it in his eye, then jerked his head back and stared in confusion when it just hurt. He tried the other eye before he remembered his mouth.

Mabel played with the banana peel tentacles on her half-octopus. At Dipper's grimace, she said, "It's fine, he'll be fine! Octopuses grow back if you cut them in half."

Soos had worked through his burger like popcorn at a movie while he watched Ford and Bill's hostage negotiations. Now that the important decisions had been made and Soos was down to fries, he said, "So, how are we gonna keep Bill out of all the other rooms? Am I gonna have to put locks on every door tomorrow? Because if we just say 'don't go there,' Bill will be like, 'okay,' and then do it anyway, you know?"

"Yeah, Stanford, how are you gonna keep me out of your rooms?" Bill was twirling a piece of bacon around his fork like spaghetti. "I hear I'm pretty sneaky." He stuck the fork in his eye again, winced, and gave it a disappointed look.

"Well—" Ford glanced around to ensure no one was nearby, leaned closer to Bill, and lowered his voice. "I've actually got a clever idea about that."

Instantly intrigued, Bill leaned in closer. "Oh, do you?"

Like he was inviting Bill in to hear a secret, Ford reached past Stan to put a hand on Bill's shoulder—and said, "Amnesia Limina—"

"You—!" Bill tried to jerk out of Ford's grip, but was blocked by a wall of Soos. Soos caught on and grabbed Bill's wrists before he could shove Ford's hand away.

"—Stupidi Digiti—"

"I hate you."

"—Occultus Locus."

A bright red light flashed between Ford's fingers. Bill's eye twitched. He jerked out of Soos's grip and shrugged off Ford's hand. "When did you learn how to play dirty?"

Dipper had watched with such fascination that he hadn't even noticed a chunk of omelet fall off his fork into his lap. "Whoa, what was that?"

"A curse," Ford said. "Cast it on a door, and no one who interacts with it will know how to open it. Cast it on a person, however—and they'll forget how to open any door. We don't have to worry about locking Bill in if he doesn't know how to use a doorknob, do we?"

Bill asked, "What's a doorknob?"

Stan cracked up. Ford grinned at Dipper and gestured at Bill. See?

"Seriously, what's a doorknob? I know every word in the English language, I'd know if 'doorknob' was a word. Is it a wart? A kind of fungus?" Bill sighed irritably. "I taught you that spell. This is how you pay me back for teaching you?"

"No, this is how I pay you back for torturing my family."

"I never tortured your family! Just you."

Mabel raised a hand. "You stuck me in a bubble."

"That wasn't torture. You had a great time."

Dipper said, "You threw me down the stairs and stabbed my arm."

"That was self-torture, and I had a great time."

Ford said, "Well, then—this is payback for myself."

Bill scowled, lips pursed, expression sour; and then spat a thick, milky wad of phlegm onto Ford's omelet.

Stan rounded on Bill so fast he kneed the table.

Ford put a hand on Stan's shoulder to stop him from making a scene. Calmly, he cut around the chunk of soiled omelet, scooped it up, and dropped it in Bill's milkshake.

Everyone tried to ignore how a crooked smile threatened to break through Bill's scowl. As if he was almost having fun.

When they left, in lieu of the extra tip Bill had wanted Stan to give the waitress, he turned over his paper menu and drew a map to an eighty-year-old buried cache of stolen jewelry just a fifteen minute walk from the diner.

He'd finished his milkshake, egg and all.

####

[saviorellie]

this will do.

pairing : ellie williams x reader

pov : third person , she/her pronouns

word count : 1,282 words

warning(s) : just fluff!!! college!ellie au!!! pinning!!!

notes : I’M ALIVE. yearly rebrand for the new hyperfixation. i need ellie williams desperately. that’s all!

masterlist

“y/n,” was the first word ellie spoke into the phone. “what’s up?”

her backpack was slipping off her shoulder. she just let it fall.

“can i come in?” she asked quietly. there was movement on the other end of the line.

“of course, y/n. you don’t need to ask.”

she didn’t respond.

“i’ll be out in a minute, okay? just got out of the shower- ‘m changing.”

she opened the door to her friend’s dorm room with the spare key ellie had gotten just for her. her space was warm and comforting and smelled of her, smokey and like home. but the tears came anyway.

ellie could feel it because she knows her. and has or ever a decade. but she didn’t expect to find her like this.

on a normal day, she would’ve had her backpack zipped open on the couch, her notebooks and laptop and ridiculous assortment of pens and highlighters and pencils spread out across the table. she would’ve pulled the blinds up and ridiculed ellie for failing to let light into her small apartment. she would’ve been rifling though her bare cabinets, trying and failing to find food to cook her an actual meal so she isn’t just living off of noodles and apple juice and weed. she would’ve glanced up at her best friend with gentle eyes and graced her with an even gentler hug.

but today, in the solitude and darkness of ellie’s apartment, she was sitting folded into herself on the couch.

it was easy for ellie to approach her, it was easy to crouch down and sit on the coffee table in front of her. if was difficult, however, to realize that she was avoiding eye contact. she knew. she was crying.

and there was just silence. ellie waited, watching her form shake while her heart sunk deeper into her chest with every passing second.

then finally, finally, she called out for her.

“ellie…” she whispered, and she was moving.

the couch cushions shifted as she sat next to her, pulling her in. as ellie tucked her head under her chin, her throat swelled with fear; she rarely saw this side of her and wanted nothing more than to take her pain away.

she was the composed one. she saw everything in her life in a positive light, taking things as they were and accepting whatever happened to her. she was compassionate and a great listener and an even better friend. the range of her emotions was about as diverse as one could imagine, but she was so talented in hiding her stresses that at times, even ellie didn’t notice until it built up so high that it just poured out.

here she was, the girl-ellie’s girl-that was always taking care of her and everyone else before herself. her work and her high expectations for herself had reduced to a bleak, discouraged figure in her friend’s embrace.

“angel,” ellie muttered, because she was still crying and her heart felt heavy and sometimes the line between best friend and more blurred and she forgot her place. she didn’t need a lover right now. she needed her best friend.

“i just… i just want to give up. i’m so tired,” she slurred long after ellie had lost track of time. once the tears had ceased and the shaking had subsided.

ellie just closed her eyes, searching for her hand in the dark. it made her so sad that the stress of college and work and bills and just living affected her hard-wired, determined, passionate self. she wanted to take it away and make if feel better. because that’s what she always did for her.

“it’ll be okay. you’ll, we’ll, figure it out. you always do.”

she nodded, just slightly, against her chest.

“i know,” she said. but the defeated sound would not leave her.

ellie didn’t really think through what she was doing as her hand brushed through her hair, brushing it back from her face. she was just exhausted. she needed comfort and ellie was going to give it as best she could.

“you gotta let me take care of you,” she sighed. “you can sleep here, if you want.”

she grunted out a noise of disapproval.

“no,” she muttered, but the softness in her voice betrayed her.

“you’re so stubborn,” ellie shot back and she laughed, just a little. and that was enough.

ellie swiveled on her heel when she heard her shuffling into the kitchen, smiling a bit at her disheveled appearance. it was harder than normal to ignore that she was in love with her on days like this.

she came right over and leaned into her side. naturally, her arm circled ellie’s waist and ellie’s arm rested on top of her shoulders as she peered into the pot she was stirring on the stove.

“what is going on?” she scoffed, because she was making actual food.

what was going on was that she has been serious earlier. about taking care of her.

after she’d fallen asleep earlier, ellie situated her on the couch and piled blankets on top of her because she was freezing all the time. although she didn’t want to chance being gone when she woke up, she didn’t have any food in her apartment and the protective side of her, reserved only for the girl sleeping on her couch, told her that was a problem. weighing her options, she went to the convenience store a couple streets over and grabbed the ingredients her favorite soup called for.

she pulled away from her best friend and hoisted herself up onto the counter next to the stove, leaning her head back on the wooden cabinet. ellie could tell she was thinking, so she left her alone. that is, until she noticed she was watching her.

“what?” she asked gently.

she just stared at her for a second. her beautiful, kind best friend. her auburn hair was falling out her bun and into her face and she had to resist the urge to push it back.

“thank you.”

ellie’s head tilted to the side.

“for what?” she moved a little closer and the girl beside her shrugged.

“i don’t know. it’s just…” she looked down at her lap, shifting on the granite countertop. “I’m still exhausted and overwhelmed and sad, but i know that you’ll be there so… i don’t know. it’s okay.”

she opened her arms lazily in ellie’s direction, the corners of her lips lifting in the slightest manner. so ellie hugged her. and her heart hurt.

then she pulled away, that dangerous thought invading her mind, the idea that the emotion in her eyes when she looked at her was how it felt for her to be in love with her best friend. the idea that she should risk it all and press a kiss to her cheek or forehead and gauge her reaction.

so instead, ellie stirred her soup and sat with her in comfortable silence.

“i love you,” she whispered, playing with the rings on her fingers.

ellie felt her breath hitch. she had said i love you to her before. but this felt different. she just didn’t know if it felt different for her too.

“i… i love you too.” she reached for her hand, running her thumb over the back of it. the silence returned, but ellie was no longer comfortable.

ellie didn’t know if what she felt would ever become reality- being more with her. but she did know that she was never going to stop caring for her and releasing her stress and doing little things to make her smile up at her with the glow she only held in her apartment.

but for now, this is plenty. this is enough. this will do.

[talaok]

I've dreamed of this | Pt. IX

Summary: You are a part of the BAU, and for the longest time you and Dr. Spencer Reid had been best of friends, even when it was clear to everyone else, and at times to you, that you should be more than that, and when something almost happens on a night out with the team, everything is destined to change.

This is a double pov story (each chapter will be alternated between y/n's and spencer's pov)

Chapter summary: Penelope calls you, and causes a chain reaction

warnings: angst (please don’t be mad at me)

<if you want to be added to the tag-list comment or write to me>

previous part | next part

*I'm really sorry for the long wait*

y/n

even his couch felt more comfortable than your own.

It was like you were meant to be here, it felt, like you were meant to be here.

The moment you woke up this morning, your head against his chest, and his sweet amber eyes looking down at you, the only question scratching your mind was why? Why have I waited this long for something I now see, was everything I've always wanted, if not needed?

It didn't make sense,

but then again, it did.

He had told you not to move, begged you even, to promise you wouldn't leave, and you didn't know how to tell him that that wasn't even a possibility you had weighed.

He had, unwillingly, left for work, and left you in his sunny apartment, feeling at home in one that was not your own.

You had been here before, dinners with the team, crashing at his place, movie nights where he either spent the whole time translating the film, or complaining about the improbability portrayed in the ones you chose.

You had been here, sure, but never like this,

now, it was as if you were looking at a whole new flat, a whole new world, one where things did, work out, and where his dark green walls maybe weren't so bad after all.

You had this feeling in your chest you couldn't describe as you smiled brainlessly at the off tv, relieving every second of the past 12 hours.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't want this- a lot, for a very long time"

"I don't think I've ever meant anything more"

"would you just please let me kiss you?"

" I could too"

"I like you y/n, I've liked you for a very long time, In a way, I had never had before, and I know this isn't ideal, that there are a lot of things we should consider and talk about, and I'm willing to do that, but I just thought you should know"

"I like you, and I'm serious about this"

All of it in your brain, a constant background above the silence around you.

it felt like a dream,

this couldn't be real,

right?

You had spent so much time fighting it, rationalizing all of it, your feelings for him, the way your heart would melt every time he blushed or smiled, and now there you were.

It all felt surreal.

This wasn't supposed to happen,

This was the forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden,

and still,

you had taken a bite of the apple,

and nothing had happened,

not yet anyway.

Ring Ring

Your phone was ringing.

"Hello?" you hadn't even looked at the caller ID

"hi gorgeous, how's it going?" You recognized Penelope's voice.

You smiled at that "great" you said "it's going great"

"Really? Emily said she talked to you yesterday and you seemed down"

"Oh yes" you recalled "well, everything is better now"

"Really?"

"yes, really Pen" you smiled at her thoughtfulness,

"So did you find some things to do?"

You had to hide a laugh "Yes-yes I definitely did"

"Cool like what?"

fuck

it wasn't like you could tell her the truth.

oh yeah, so I basically got into a relationship that I'd been avoiding for years with Spencer, our coworker.

That didn't seem like it would work out

"I- I started watching- " you looked around frantically, and your eyes spotted a book "I started watching the lord of the rings"

"the whole saga?" she asked, shocked

"yes, it's been keeping me occupied"

"Spencer's gonna be happy about that" she scoffed amusedly.

Your cheeks flushed just at the mention of his name "Speaking of which" she said, and you could hear the smirk on her lips "Wonderboy arrived late today" she snickered "word on the street is he's got a girlfriend"

"What?" the words fled your mouth before you could stop them

How was it possible they already knew?

Yes, they were profilers, but no profiler was that good.

"Yes, let's just say he must have forgotten about some marks the lucky lady left on his neck"

Shit

Shit shit shit

"oh" you could only breathe

"not to mention how distracted he is " she chuckled softly "he hasn't even done his crossword this morning" she whispered as if it was some sort of profanity,

which, of course, it kind of was,

Spencer never missed a day, the whole team knew it.

You didn't know what to say, and so you stayed silent.

You could feel Penelope's attitude shift "Shoot- listen I know you two were kind of... I don't know- something-" she trailed off "but maybe this is better you know, with the whole Hotch thing and you being friends"

"I mean it's not like a woman like you doesn't have a line of men waiting for her"

"We weren't- anything" you clarified

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't have told you" you could hear the sadness creeping up her voice.

"It's fine, Pen, I'm-I'm happy for him"

"alright," she said, even though both of you knew she was still mortified "well anyway I and the gals thought we could come by this afternoon to keep you company"

Oh fuck

they couldn't come by, you weren't even there.

"oh no don't do that"

really y/n? that's the best you could come up with?

"why?" Penelope asked

C'mon think of something

"I just- I'm feeling a bit sick"

"oh" she hummed "I'm sorry," she said, " why didn't you say anything before?"

"I just didn't want you to worry"

"I'm- I'm not " she lied plainly "I could make you some soup you know? I could bring it to you. Yes, you know what, I'm gonna get off work earlier and get started on it-"

"Wait Pen"

"yes?" she stopped her rambling, and it surprised you she still had air left in her lungs.

"I think it's best if I just rest a bit y'know?"

"Sure" she smiled, but you could tell she was disappointed and worried altogether "I understand"

"thank Pen, say hi to the team for me"

"of course" she nodded "take care of yourself"

"will do" you joked "bye now"

"bye"

You stared at the colorless reflection looking back at you from the black screen,

Your smile had faded,

The feeling in your belly had mutated,

more bitter now, the warmth slowly dissipating against the cold breeze.

You should have been happy right?

You had gotten away with it,

both of you had,

Yes, the team thought Spencer had a girlfriend, but they had no idea it was you.

And you were able to convince Penelope not to come by your house.

Everything went perfectly,

so why did you feel like this?

like a puff had just caused the unsteady house of cards to fall to the ground.

You had everything you wanted,

you had him,

you had you, together.

this wasn't how it was supposed to be,

you should be feeling ecstatic,

happy,

on fucking cloud nine,

but it was as if you had to woken up from the dream, from the fable, and reality was starting to hit.

You had lied to her,

to Penelope,

one of your best friends, a person who knew everything about you, a person who'd seen you cry and laugh and puke more times than you'd like to admit.

You had to lie

Make up a bunch of things and lie to her face like it was normal, like nothing was wrong with that.

But so much was wrong with it,

And not only because it made you feel dirty, and shitty, no, but because she didn't deserve it.

She would never do it to you, you knew.

And still, you hadn't even hesitated before doing it to her.

And as much as you liked to think that it was necessary, and that it wasn't gonna be forever, you had no real guarantee that that was the truth

You had never really thought about it,

and apparently, all it took was a phone call for the pandora's box lid to fly off, and your mind was now flooding with doubts and fear, and second thoughts.

When were you gonna be able to tell people?

never, was the only answer you could think of,

You weren't allowed to date,

because of Hotch's rule,

And it's not like you could have told everyone but him, that seemed practically impossible.

So that was it, either one of you left the BAU or you would have to keep it a secret forever, continuing to lie every single day.

The thought of it terrified you,

And with it, millions more started clouding your mind.

__ __ __

"hello"

you had been crying

"hi" you smiled weakly from the couch

He threw his sachel on a chair and walked up to you immediately, bending to meet his lips with yours.

It felt good, too good.

"I've missed you" he sat next to you, a big smile on his face "I couldn't wait to get home" he confessed shily "I don't think anybody suspects anything though, so we're in the clear" he moved a lock of hair behind your ear, and his brows furrowed "what's wrong?"

You didn't know where to begin,

a tsunami of emotions was going off inside of you, and you had no idea how to get them out.

"Penelope called" you finally said

"ok" you could tell he was confused "that's good right?"

yes, Spencer, that's supposed to be good.

God, you felt like you were going crazy.

"I lied to her"

"what do you mean?"

"she said she wanted to come to my house, and I said I was sick"

"Oh" he breathed "that's-that's ok, I mean that's like a - white lie"

You could only look at him, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

"And you know, you could have gone back home, that would have b-"

"that's not the point Spencer" your voice broke " I lied to her, and- and I'm gonna have to keep doing it"

"what? no that's not true" he placed a hand on your thigh, trying to reassure you.

"We can't tell anyone Spence you know it"

"Well I mean we could tell her, just not Hotch"

"and how that gonna work?" you asked way too harshly.

"I'm sorry I just- there's a lot of things we haven't thought of"

"I know y/n I know" he stoaked your cheek "but we can work it out"

Oh, you so wanted to give in, to tell him that yes, maybe you could and that he was right, but you knew that wasn't the truth, as much as it pained you to say it, he was wrong.

"How?" you said "We're gonna get fired if Hotch finds out, and unless one of us wants to leave the team we're gonna have to keep it a secret," you explained with a weak voice "and I don't know-" you couldn't believe you were about to say it "I don't know if I can do it, Spencer"

It was like you had just punched him in the face,

his eyes went blank, as his smile disappeared.

"I'm sorry" you cried "I'm so sorry Spence this is all my fault I should have never come here, please- i'm so sorry" you reached for his hand.

"y/n-" he tried to talk but you interrupted him

"no, please don't try to change my mind" you begged "It's- It's not only Hotch, Spence" you confessed

"You're my friend," you said "before this, before everything you're my friend Spence, and- and you mean everything to me, y'know" you sighed "and if- if this doesn't work out I don't wanna lose you, I can't, I can't lose you, I don't think I could do it without you"

"And I know this is gonna mess things up for a bit but I hope we could still be friends because I need that Spence, I need you as I friend, and I'm scared that if we do this, like really do this, and learn we've made a mistake, then I'm gonna lose you forever, and I can't let that happen"

You hadn't noticed the tears fleeing your eyes, because your sight was fixated on him, his mouth slightly parted, his eyes still in shock.

"I-" he swallowed thickly, his eyes scanning your face "You're never gonna lose me y/n" he said "we can work this out"

"This can't be how this ends"

"I'm sorry" was all you could say

"Y/n the moment I met you, the moment you smiled and introduced yourself, I knew I wanted this, the first time I saw you laugh I thought I was gonna have a heart attack y/n, I-I- I spent the last four years of my life stealing glances at you, and planning things to do or say to make you happy." he breathed "you can't do this y/n, not now"

"I'm sorry" your lip was trembling

"please forgive me Spence but I think it's best if I go" you got up and quickly grabbed your purse just to dash to the door,

but he followed

"y/n" you turned, and he was just there, inches from you, just like that night at the bar "y/n, I lov-"

"no, don't" you covered his mouth, a sob creeping up your throat "please don't"

You let your hand fall, taking a step to be flush against him, your mouth ghosting his "this is for the best" you breathed, hopeless "I can't lose you Spence" you kissed him, fully, desperately, like it was the last time you were ever gonna do it, because, of course, it was "please understand"

you whispered,

and without looking back,

you were out of his apartment.

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[tobiasdrake]

Guess this is gonna be a one-way trip. THANKS GARL.

YOU. I have a bone to pick with you.

Nuh nuh nuh do not give me any more cryptic shit. You and I? Our trust is broken. Probably gonna be three wizards.

And a warlock.

I. Would have hoped that we did. Given we wanted to travel it by raft and all.

Holy shit, we dodged a bullet with that one. Maybe ten years of going to your room to think about what you did wasn't such a bad punishment after all.

CAN I HELP YOU SCARY PORTAL LADY

I've been here five minutes and I'm about to get ganked by time/space assassins. This isn't fair.

Honestly, this has been a fairly relaxing trip so far. Ran into some monster ants and goblins chucking bombs but it's nice here.

I think this island's got it pretty good.

THAT IS A DRAGON

This island has a dragon.

...oh! Is that the "Sleeper" that Garl was talking about? Huh, I didn't figure he'd get to meet them this soon.

..."Sleeper Island". Right. I guess that was obvious.

NEW FRIEND. Probably. Hello, new friend! I hope this is not too forward but WILL YOU JOIN MY PARTY IMMEDIATELY because your hair is a-ma-zing. The pink and green go together nicely to make this calm and comforting aesthertic.

We should ask for a guide.

I think she's some kind of archaeologist, judging by how intently she's studying those runes.

Probably a bad archaeologist, given how much of her attention is being paid to a straight line with none of the interesting markings found elsewhere on the obelisk.

OUTVOTED 2 to 1, we're pestering the intensely focused science lady.

Can't imagine why anyone would hire time/space assassins to gank me. I'm so likable.

Garl is pouring on the charm. If there's one thing that's always been true about smart people, it's that they are eager to have someone to infodump on. Nothing gets a scientist talking like basic questions about their field of study.

We're practically besties already.

Hold up. Can Garl read these runes? He did a double take at us.

You got something to share with the class, bruh?

So the answer is yes, she is an archaeologist. We should probably leave her alone to study these old rocks with the world's oldest script engraved on them.

We will not.

TEAKS. It's a little goofy but, shit, my name was supposed to be Valerie but I accidentally misplaced my I. Garl felt bad for me so he discarded one of his own.

Trust me, we've got plenty of food even if you don't count Garl's infinitely-replenishing bag of apples.

So. To clarify. When you said "This is the oldest writing known to us, the Traveling Historians", what you meant was "This is the oldest writing I've personally ever seen in my career."

That's an important piece of qualifying context, thank you.

So. It's. Like psychometry but it's another object that utilizes psychometric powers and then writes it all down for ease of reference. Honestly, that's better than psychometry. You don't have to deal with fuzzy interpretations of events you barely got a glimpse of.

So really it's the book that's the historian, and you're more like its transport mechanism? I take it back, that's way shittier than psychometry. Imagine having to play second-fiddle to a pen. My utmost sympathies.

That's okay, a lot of great heroes have "skills" that become less and less impressive the more attention you pay to how those abilities actually work.

DEAL. If we find any interesting-looking things I'll have Vale hold them until we can pass them off to you. I'm already excited to hear what kinds of stories you'll have for us. :D

Oh, so you just started doing this, then?

...

So. To clarify. When you said "This is the oldest writing known to us, the Traveling Historians", what you meant was "This is the oldest writing I've personally ever seen in the five days or so I've been studying things."

That's an important piece of qualifying context, thank you.

[nostalgicatsea]

If you’ve been following me long enough, you know I’ve been trying to write a soccer/football/fútbol/whatever-you-call-it-in-your-area-of-the-world AU. I finally wrote words for it for @lightsonparkave round 34! I didn’t have a prompt in mind while writing it, but this one has a similar theme.

This is a story where Tony, a young talented player who’s become so jaded that he doesn’t know if he loves soccer anymore or if he ever really did, goes to the U.S. to be on the same team as Steve, who lives and breathes soccer. They dislike each other instantly, but they learn to be teammates and fall in love. 

—

“It’ll be a fresh start,” Pepper had told him, tapping the signature line with her “special occasions only” Montblanc—as if downgrading to the U.S. from Spain was a momentous event that deserved to be celebrated—and the best and worst part of it was that she had sincerely believed it.

Between the pen and the optimism brimming in her eyes, Tony had found himself believing it too. Or at least believing that he wasn’t throwing his life away entirely. The contract wouldn’t have even been on the table if Pepper hadn’t thought it was worth his time. She wasn’t the type to latch herself to a sinking ship; she was a loyal friend, of course, but she was also his agent and much more crucially, not an idiot. Tony had come across his fair share of clueless agents who had no idea what they were doing and Pepper was their opposite. One day, she was going to be a superagent (except not evil) and take over the world (in a non-evil way). 

But Pepper was known to be wrong on the rare occasion and Tony knew there were few places he could go where Howard’s shadow didn’t reach and his own reputation didn’t precede him. Having such a large social following and being a tabloid darling made that hard. 

Not to mention, he thought bitterly, his new club was led by Steve Rogers, the apple of Howard Stark’s eye, the guy who captured enough hearts to be dubbed Captain America even before he became captain of anything. Not exactly the most logical place to go when you’re aiming for a low profile, though maybe the rivalry was mostly in his head since they played on two different continents and weren’t even on the same national team. If he was going to give his career another shot, it could do him some good to start over away from the spotlight that would follow him no matter where he was in Europe.

Here in New York, he at least had a chance at anonymity. The MLS wasn’t the league where superstars went to retire anymore, but despite its growth, it was still a ways from being the most-watched sports league in the States. 

Here, he wouldn’t have to fight as much to reinvent himself. He could lay low, put in the work, stay away from the party life, and maybe, just maybe, not have to deal with every move he made being scrutinized and sensationalized. Or even wholly made up. Admittedly, he had fed the flames, doing things like going out to clubs the night before a match and staying until the early hours more than once, but it wasn’t like he had let that affect his on-pitch performance or even more absurdly, insisted on having a clause in his contract that Real Madrid would allow him to go clubbing at least once a week.

No one could be stupid enough to believe that—Tony could argue about why it was stupid for days, and the maxim that no player was bigger than the club was a maxim for a reason—but considering how the “news” was received, apparently most people were convinced that there was at least a kernel of truth to the rumor even if it wasn’t entirely true.

And so was his new captain, apparently. Steve Rogers could pretend all he wanted that he was as upstanding and accepting as everyone who fawned over him claimed him to be, but Tony was better at reading people than most gave him credit for. He could tell by the way Rogers painstakingly tried to fix a neutral expression on his face like any sudden move would make it slip off that he knew exactly who Tony was and he didn’t like what he saw.

A spoiled brat who got away with murder because he was so gifted and his dad and godfather were important people.

Not for the first time, Tony wondered if there was even a point in trying to change if everyone only saw him the way they wanted to see him.

[schrijverr]

Life Is Ours, We Live It Our Way 18

Chapter 18 out of 18

Genderqueer Stevie with platonic soulmates Robin and Eddie living their best queer life.

In this chapter, it is ‘93 and follow a day in the life of Stevie, Eddie and Robin, who now live in the big city, all grown up and settled in.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

Stevie is rushing around their apartment, trying to get everything so that she can hurry to class. Yes, he is going to college, something he never would have thought when he graduated or continued on into his adult life.

However, it is currently ‘93 and the time away has been good for her. In her time away, she has fully grown into herself. The label of genderqueer has been going around in queer circles and he has wholeheartedly embraced it.

Furthermore, she has stopped caring about what others think of him. He dresses how he wants and doesn’t mind that she’s older than her peers, not to mention happy that she is no longer the center of attention, like he was in high school.

Not that he’s lonely or an outcast at college, not at all. Actually, he realized how the party must have formed as he got settled, because she has amassed other outcasts during his time on campus so far. People who are different like her, who see that he doesn’t fit fully and is okay with that. People who cling to her like he clung to Madame Tucker and Robbie and Eds.

It’s odd, but nice to be that for people now. And also exactly why she wants to become a guidance counselor. He likes the idea of being able to help others like he wished he was helped, how Max got to be helped.

So, yeah, Stevie is studying again.

Robin has already graduated, so she’s working full-time like Stevie did when she went to college to pay their bills with Eddie.

She has been coming home to them for the past four years, having moved out here to reunite with Robin alongside Eddie in ‘89 when Dustin had figured out why Eddie and Stevie were still hanging around Hawkins, even though they clearly missed her and the group came together to threaten them with all of them purposefully failing Senior year if they didn’t start house hunting.

He still contributes to their bills, working as Princess Dingus in the club if she manages to land a gig, where he has most of his social life outside of college. Madame Tucker is still fully in business and her favorite host to work with.

None of his other friends will ever be the party, nor will they ever come close to what Eddie and Robin are to him. But they come to her shows in the clubs. The shows that make her wake up late and have to rush through the morning to get to classes on time.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Stevie asks Eddie, who is drinking coffee in the kitchen while Stevie shoves her notebook and a few pens into her backpack.

“I did. You told me you’d get up,” Eddie says. “I thought you were getting dressed.”

“I obviously wasn’t,” Stevie tells him, snatching an apple of the counter, careful not to tip over Eddie’s stack of notebooks that resides there.

“That’s true,” Robin butts in from her breakfast. “This happens every Monday morning. And Fridays. But you’re better on Fridays.”

“I only have afternoon classes on Fridays,” Stevie replies while chewing a bite of his apple. “And I hate you both for not waking me.”

“We packed you lunch,” Eddie offers the tupperware Stevie always takes with him.

“I added a chocolate bar,” Robin says proudly.

“I take it back, I love you both,” Stevie tells them gratefully, shoving the tupperware into her bag and kissing both Robin and Eddie on their cheek.

“Have a good day!”

“Good day!”

“Bye,” Stevie yells back, rushing out the door, glad he kept up the running after he moved away from Lucas, who had been his main motivator.

She comes falling into the right classroom a minute late, dressed in light wash, high-waist jeans and a pink sweater, her hair up in a ponytail. He awkwardly sends the lecturer an apologetic smile as she slides into the first row.

Luckily this happens every week, so the man is used to it. However, every time it happens, he can’t help but think of Robin’s confession on that cold floor of a Russian bunker and wonder if someone in that room thinks he’s an asshole for it. At least he ate her apple on the way.

He gets through most of his classes before it’s lunch time. She sits with a few people she befriended and pulls out her lunch.

In it is a note, in Eddie’s handwriting it says ‘Nourish thyself for thou knowledge adventure!’ with a small drawing of Stevie as a wizard holding a book and a chicken leg. Robin has written ‘Eat, you dingus! Love you <3’

Maria leans over when she spots the note and sighs: “That is the cutest shit ever, like that is what everyone wants in life. And you’re not dating either of them.”

“Yeah, they’re the best,” Stevie smiles softly and tucks the note in his pocket to put it with the others in the box in her vanity drawer. “And you’ll find the people that get you, I promise. Just try and do you and they’ll come around.”

“And you’re so nice about it too,” Jonny groans. “You have achieved domestic bliss at 25 and you’re just nice about it. It’s rude.”

Stevie laughs at Jonny’s dramatics and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder as he says: “Don’t worry, these things take time. Not everyone can nearly get murdered together as a speed run bonding experience.”

Jonny peaks up from where he has buried his head in his arms and replies: “You say shit like that and I never know if you’re joking or not.”

“If I told you the government would take me,” Stevie shrugs with a wink, then turns to her lunch and starts eating, not engaging in the topic again.

It’s a little joy to fuck around with what happened – now already – years ago. No one here knows Hawkins, not really. They don’t have pre-formed opinions of her or Eddie or Robin. They are just confused.

Eddie calls it hilarious, Robin worries about the government not agreeing, before giggling and whispering that she told her coworker she used to translate secret coded messages at her previous job.

On the way back home, Stevie swings by the grocery store, mentally planning what he has to do this evening.

He’s the first one home, since the office building Robin works at is quite a drive away and the record store Eddie works at closes later. So, she changes into comfy clothes, then starts preparing dinner, which she can leave on the stove for a bit, before starting on her course work.

Robin comes home first, asking if he’s doing something very important, launching into a tirade about her coworker when the answer is no. Stevie gladly listens to her ramble along, the topic slowly shifting to a cute server at the bar and how Robin wants to make a move, but also doesn’t want to harass her at work.

She’s in the middle of her lament when Eddie comes through the door and snorts: “Is Robs being useless and gay again?” Robin guffaws as Stevie nods. Eddie goes on: “Yeah, she told me this morning. What am I smelling? Is it dinner? Please tell me it’s dinner.”

“It’s dinner,” Stevie laughs. “Nothing difficult, but hearty.”

“I can do hearty,” Eddie says, taking a spoon and tasting a little before groaning: “Hell yeah, this is amazing, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” Stevie replies, before shouting: “Don’t stick that spoon back in there, Eddie! You licked that.”

“What? Do you think I have cooties, princess? You had my tongue in your mouth-”

“Don’t!” Robin whines, covering her ears. “I don’t need to hear about your fucking, please. Also come here, you need to help me with my girl problems.”

Eddie relents the sex-talk, dropping the spoon as he plops down on a chair and lazily grins: “I am literally the worst person to talk with about girl problems, Robbie.”

“You can try to be supportive like dingus here is,” Robin pouts.

“I have literally said nothing since you started on the topic,” Stevie deadpans, making Eddie snort as Robin whines again, restarting another rant.

Both Eddie and Stevie try to give input as they set the table, but it remains a sticky situation. The discussion lasts through dinner with Robin just deciding to wait and hope that the girl will make a move.

When they’ve left the topic behind them, Eddie asks: “Who’s going to Hawkins this spring break? Did we hear back from everyone yet?”

“Will and Mike are coming back to visit Joyce,” Stevie says, holding up his finger as if it will help, before sighing: “I can’t recall the rest, but I wrote it down on the fridge.”

She gets up and goes to the fridge. Her memory is pretty good overall, but she needs to repeat stuff often and if she doesn’t put in the effort, it’s less likely to stick. So, he roots for the note under the mess of polaroids that’s on the fridge, before returning victoriously with it.

Their collection of pictures has only grown over the years, the stack of albums that Robin still diligently updates over on one of the bookshelves.

“Okay, yeah, so Will and Mike are coming back from New York for Joyce, who’s picking them up from the airport. So, we won’t have to deal with the two lovebirds stuck in the car with us,” he starts to read. “Max and El are taking the same flight from Cali, Hopper wanted to pick them up but Lucas might also be doing that.”

“He must have missed Max,” Robin comments. “Long distance is always hard.

Stevie hums in agreement and continues on: “Dustin, uhm, Dustin wasn’t sure yet. Apparently MIT has this project thing that might run over, but he’ll know next week. And Erica is still back in Hawkins of course, taking Senior year like a champ.”

“What did Nancy and Jonathan say?” Robin asks, the only one who doesn’t think in Hawkins equals the kids and therefore remembers to add them into their list.

Stevie would feel worse about it, if contact with the two hadn’t been distant ever since they went off to college.

“Uhm,” Stevie looks at the note again, then shrugs helplessly.

Eddie luckily recalls: “Didn’t Nancy mention wanting to get time off? She and Jonathan are planning a holiday, right?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t sure if they were going to visit Argyle or go back to Hawkins to see everyone again,” Robin says.

“I can’t imagine Jonathan passing an opportunity to see Will again,” Stevie replies.

“So the whole gang will be back together again,” Eddie comments.

“Yeah?” Stevie perks up. “You managed to get the days off?”

Eddie beams and nods: “I’ll be working all the shitty shifts these coming weeks, but spring break is mine.”

“Cheers to that,” Robin grins, lifting her glass in a toast.

“Cheers,” the other two echo.

It’s Robin’s turn to do the dishes, humming softly as to not distract Stevie and Eddie, who are both diligently writing away at the table. Though… Stevie more so than Eddie, who throws his hands up and complains: “I wrote like five pages every day for weeks and now nothing. I know where I want to go, why is nothing happening?”

“Maybe you should let your brain take a break,” Robin shrugs. She’s the one with better advice about this, since she currently works in the publishing industry, albeit in translation.

“I don’t wanna take a break,” Eddie pouts. He’s been writing this book for a while now, Stevie had mentioned in passing how he thought Eddie would be good at it when he was mope-y about missing DnD. Eddie jumped on it with gusto and really wants to publish his fantasy novel.

“Well, your brain doesn’t care about that,” Robin informs him bluntly. “Now go read or play the guitar. You have that gig at the bar next week, remember?”

Eddie groans, but puts the writing away, before going to grab his guitar and plopping down on the couch as he starts to practice one of his songs. As it turns out, it’s easier to find people interested in joining a metal band out here. They’re not breaking through, but Eddie doesn’t mind that much, he likes sharing his songs in dingy bars just as much. Content not to fly across the world and remain in their little bubble.

Robin finishes the dishes and grabs her book, joining Stevie at the table, who has been writing away at her essay. The three falling into a soothing rhythm that has marked their relationship ever since it took off.

Sure, Stevie might struggle sometimes, but she’s putting herself through college and sitting in his living room with his two soulmates, while wearing glasses and an outfit King Steve wouldn't be found dead in, but feeling more comfortable in his skin than he ever thought possible.

And yeah, Robin is still a bit useless in the romance category, but she got out of Hawkins and has a job she enjoys and confidence in who she is.

While Eddie loves his job in the record store, he wants to become a writer. Solely a writer. It won’t be easy but he’s working hard. Not to mention that he can be himself now. That he’s known in the community, not because he was suspected of murder, but because he knows how to fix the AC and indulges the kids that live in their building in their fantasy games while haggard parents run their errands.

Life is good for them. Really good. Better than any of them imagined back when they were a shell without personality, an awkward closet-case and the town freak.

Stevie hears Eddie put the guitar away, before he’s punching in a number. His voice is bright when he greets: “It’s me, your favorite nephew!”

“Oi, what do you mean with that, you old man?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I figured you must be up by now. I thought, I’d check in.”

They devolve into chatter, which is equally welcome as background noise. Stevie loves hearing either one of his soulmate’s happy rambling. And Eddie’s voice when he tells Wayne that they’re coming to visit over the break is very worth it.

The essay isn’t that important, so when Robin snorts, Stevie asks what’s up and she tells him excitedly about the joke in the book, explaining the plot so Stevie can understand why the moment is funny. Before both go back to their task.

“Stevie,” Eddie calls after a second. “Wayne wants to know if you can set your hatred for the Cowboys aside, so you two can watch the game together when we come over?”

“I always want to watch the game with Wayne,” Stevie answers. “You two are terrible.”

“We can’t help that it’s confusing,” Robin complains. “There are all these rules and I can never follow along.”

“And I can’t help that it’s hot sweaty men, who’re distracting,” Eddie adds, while Robin makes fake gagging noises.

Eddie relays: “Wayne says he’s looking forwards to it.”

“Tell him I do too and that I say hi,” Stevie smiles.

“Also say hi from me!” Robin says quickly.

“He says hi back,” Eddie tells them after he told Wayne they said hi, then Eddie asks about the Hawkins gossip while Robin and Stevie turn to their books again.

Before Eddie hangs up, they both take the phone and talk with the man for a little. Wayne remains one of their favorite people and they’ve all grown closer over the years, so they adore it when they get the time to chat with him and catch up. He has become a pillar for them, also taking Will and Mike under his wing when the two came out to everyone as a couple.

However, phone bills are a thing along with the fact that they’re becoming boring adults as the kids would claim. So, after they’ve hung up, the three get ready for bed.

It’s an easy routine. Eddie checks the locks, while Robin pees and Stevie changes, Eddie pees as Robin changes and Stevie turns off the heating, and when Stevie pees, Eddie changes and Robin switches off the lights.

Then they brush their teeth in a little row in the bathroom. It’s stupid, but they all love it. Love how they try to keep up conversations through foamy mouths, trying not to laugh and inhale the toothpaste, making them choke.

With that all done, the three slide into bed. Eddie is still at Stevie’s back, arm slung around her, but Robin is now resting on Stevie’s chest, their hands still intertwined, while Eddie rests his on her waist.

They’re three little puzzle pieces, slotting together and resting peacefully. Nightmares have mostly faded, but the need for comfort and closeness never did. Not that any of them mind.

Yeah, life is good.

When Stevie was living in that big house, trying to be picture perfect to fit into the person his parents could brag about, she never would have imagined she’d end up here. He always thought he’d live his life the way it was expected.

Instead, he found who she wanted to be and the people she wanted to be that person with. He found people he can call in a crisis, who help and want to be helped. People she can look out for, like they do for her. People that fit.

This life is far from anything a Harrington should be. Far from what she should be. But he doesn’t care, it’s his life – their life – and they get to live it how they want to.

There is nothing better than that.

~~

A/N:

I really wanted this to be a single day a few years later, showing that they’re happy and settled and out of that small town none of them fit in. But it’s a little short because of it, hope you still liked it as an ending <33

Also, if you made it to this point (first of thank you so much for sticking this out to the end), but I also want to congratulate you on reading 225 pages of writing with 12 size fond, that’s a lot xp

[dataltruismtho]

After the Institute: Pax Populi

It had been some months since the revelation that McDonough had been a synth swept through Diamond city. Though it still remained a hot topic everyone was still asking each other about. To seek closure? To gague status? To gossip? That, is a question better left to the pen-pushers who found themselves under more stress than ever these days with paperwork flooding in for all sorts of city petitions, new buisnesses, complaints about noisy hammers and machines. 

A lady in a new row of office cubicles under the stands takes a bite of an apple. Its become a new treat she looks forward to - crisp, sweet and hearty. She remembers when she first passed Kawolski's new stand with a pallet of these strange new fruits. That bald skinny kid boasting about getting a good deal on an import from some place south of the 'wealth. She was dubious at first - like any other big city worker who had to pass a gauntlet of shopkeepers and performances beneath the Great Green Jewel's obselete walls. 

But, as fate would have it, a kindly old lady interrupted the young kid, 

"quiet down there Sheny, yer giving this nice lady a headache with yer yapping."

Before she threw a couple caps at the counter, and grabbed a fresh, red-and-yellow globule from the stand and put it in the young lady's hand.

"They're good! You really should try them.  Tastes like sugar-bombs without that card-boardy, starchy aftertaste. Don't mind me, I've been coming here each week to pick some up for the husband. This kid's got a knack for sorting through all the imports these days."

Her attention slid to the pile of pages inside her briefcase. All to be crossed and signed. Though weary, she was grateful her work was only mind-numbing. Her parents had worked the greenhouses as long as she remembered. She thought they'd be proud the night she went home and told them she'd gotten a job in a normally 'upper stands' role. But all they kept asking was why their daughter thought she was 'too good' to do 'proper work' like her ma and pa. They'd come around eventually. Afterall, with the new mayor and his big fancy speeches goin on about the new freedom they had without any boogeyman lurking in the shadows, a new tide of progress seemed to be breaking upon the city.

And then, Lars walked by, breaking her out of her melancholic waltz down memory-lane.

"Hello! uh- Ms. Briggs!" 

She didn't recognize him at first, those dark navy fatigues did well to hide the thin arms of her childhood friend.

"Lars?! Is that you?" 

She rose from her seat, excited at the idea of something to break up the monotiny. 

"You don't have to call me that! It's Janey and you know it!" 

She greeted him with a friendly hug

"Well-... i'm here on buisness im afraid. But its good to see you here!"

"Oh of course! right. I hope they're treating you well at the castle!"

"They are, about as well as any new recruit. So far its just been basic training, and grilled mirelurk. I can't even tell which is worse."

"Well you can always come home! Theres a new pottery shed opening up by the lake!"

"Janey, you know that's not my style. Now down to buisness."

Lars went on to deliver a memo for her superiors. An upcoming meeting addressed by the general himself to leaders and their staff across the commonwealth. Unfortunately, Janey wouldn't be going, she's not nearly an overledger yet.

Saying her goodbyes, she promised to write to Lars soon. It was a busy time for her and the city. But she was glad that she was able to make a life for herself. Even if she shared the same shack as her parents, it was still a great peace of mind to save her caps. It'd cost a premium to get one of those new 2-pieces with the pencil skirt, but Janey Briggs was nothing if not commited to her ambitions. She saw what was possible after the fallwar. Everyone in the Commonwealth did.

[virescent-v]

2, 11, 24, 27, 28, 30, 33, 35, 38, 44, 51, 58, 65, 70, 71, 72, 77, 80, 84, 91, 93, 95, 99

Hi Anon! This is so many! Find the answers under the cut so it doesn't eat up everyones feed lol.

2. Which planet  is your favourite?

Neptune!

11. What was  your favorite class at school?

Science or English.

24. Favorite  song?

Sleeping Sickness by City and Colour

27. Favorite  color?

Purple, black, or blue. If it looks like a bruise, essentially lmfao.

28. What kind of  music do you like best?

Like indie/alt? I guess. I like so many different types of music.

30. What book  did you last read?

I'm going to assume you don't mean anything that relates to school, so Count Your Lucky Stars. I have a lot of books on my tbr though that I need to work through....

33. The last  person you spoke to.

Does my cat count? Otherwise, my work bestie Sierra.

35. Where would  you go on your dream trip?

I want to go to so many places abroad it's unreal. Can I be vague and say Europe? Ugh. Top three? Ireland, South Korea, India.

38. Where did  you go abroad last time?

Honduras? Mexico? Somewhere in the Caribbean. I can't remember which was last lol. It was all on the same trip and it was years ago.

44. Favorite  Christmas Food.

Good ol sugar cookies. Use to make them by scratch with my nana every year. And I consider cinnamon rolls Christmasy because my mom would make them for breakfast every year for Christmas and that's basically the only time we ever got them lol.

51. Favorite  Actor / Actress.

Currently, if you couldn't tell by my blog, Paget Brewster lol. Also a huge fan of anything Jessica Chastain does. Lauren Graham. Hailee Steinfeld. Florence Pugh. God, I love women.

58. Do you  prefer to take pictures or be in the picture?

I prefer to take them. I have a better eye for angles and lighting than my friends lol.

65. What was  your first job?

I was like a home-health companion for an elderly woman. Hung out with her, made sure she took her meds, helped out around the house, took her for trips and such.

70. Favorite  pizza?

Extra cheese and extra pepperoni. Classics.

71. Are you  afraid of the dark? Negative. Love it.

72. Are you  afraid of heights? Kind of, yes. If it's like stationary? Like standing on something high up. But like rollercoasters and stuff no.

77. Salty or  sour? Just the right amount of salty lol.

80. Apple or  pear? Apples!

84. Cap or hood? Hood. I look terrible in hats.

91. Pen or  pencil? Pens.

93. Writing by  hand or on a computer? Recently, computer.

95. The last  thing you did in the kitchen? Danced? lmfao. I made breakfast after work.

99. What’s your  favorite series? I have so many! The ones I find myself rewatching though are SVU, Gilmore Girls, Brooklyn 99, CSI. Also love All of Us are Dead which is a Korean zombie series. Currently making my way through Criminal Minds!

:) Thanks for getting to know me!!

[lifewithoutmeds]

July 24, 2022

Sunday morning.

feeling pretty ok.  worked pretty hard throughout the week, then went fishing early on friday, and had a late lunch with my mom, and watched the first episode of some popular korean drama with her.

saturday woke up pretty late and then went to porto’s to pick up some treats before heading to lana’s for a bbq/pool party where some of her high school and college friends came out and i chatted with monique and cassie some, ate spam musubi, fried chicken, and some kalbi, which was all very tasty, before heading back home for a short breather before heading out to the west side to meet up with venice group where i stayed from about 6-10pm. i think i left my bike bag with wallet there but was too tired to go back and left it, and headed home and knocked out.

no real plans for today, except cleaning and catching up on some chores. have my usual list of things to do, and have already jogged my one mile and made my bed, and am on my second cup of coffee. 

i was feeling pretty good last week until sunday. i had walked coop twice on saturday and once on sunday, and then took the time to leave a note for j, bring her ghim and a new phone stand, and some cut up strawberries, and washed fuji apples and a ripe white peach. i left the fruit in her refrigerator with a little note and expectantly awaited her arrival and surprise and gratitude and ... thankfulness? love? acknowledgement? i see now the error of my ways.

i texted to check on where she was, had she left santa barbara yet? would she be driving? did she want company to chat with on her drive? i wanted to know the exact moment her eyes alighted on my gifts and feel her love and appreciation, but the hours came and went, and the dread and horror started to settle in and i started to lose it sunday afternoon. i imagined someone was there waiting for her at her place, that she rushed out for a date, that she was too busy to see any of it, that maybe she was on the phone with her new lover, or just with her new lover, and as the hours slipped away, my frenzy increased, and soon i was crying, i was drinking, i was texting whoever would text me back, and it seemed that whatever progress i had made in the prior months was all to naught. i was not ok. i was not better. i was regressing.

as it turned out, i was highly PMSing, started my period tuesday, and my mood has since improved. today’s coffee tastes and feels good, and i’m texting Lo pretty regularly. i even did my first good night and good morning text, albeit super casually of course. i feel glad and thankful that i have a day to rest, decompress, and put things in order before the workweek starts, although it’ll be a short one since i’m heading over to austin on thursday to visit alyson, which should be fun. on the calendar is early morning fly fishing, watching a UFC fight, and a night in a cabin by a lake! very excited.

i also was inspired and wrote a poem last week, my first in a while. i felt it sort of ... almost mounting in me. i saw phrases and images, i sounded out words, and i just put pen to paper and started to ... almost sculpt it, in a very visceral way. and out came this thing and it was pretty much what and how i envisioned it. i’m not saying it’s the best thing ever. but it felt pulled from me. and that was a really interesting experience.

hoping today is productive. feeling hopeful.

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

The Portrait (An Alcina x Maiden Fanfic)

You walk into the Atelier and find yourself once again gazing at the portrait of the Lady of the Castle, Lady Dimitrescu. She must have commissioned the portrait when she was younger because she looked like she was in her mid-20’s. She stands in an ivory-colored dress with a full skirt, holding a glass of wine. Her face is clear of her laugh lines, under-eye circles, and wrinkles but she is still as elegant and beautiful as ever. You move closer to get a better look and suddenly wonder who might have painted this portrait. Were they close to Lady Dimitrescu?

“Do you like it?”

You whirl around swiftly and find yourself face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. The corner of her mouth quirks up in an amused grin, making her laugh lines indent into her cheekbones. Her golden eyes are glittering with mischief.

“Well?” she prompts.

You come back to yourself. “I-It’s lovely, my Lady,” you stammer. “Did you commission someone to make it for you?”

Alcina lets out a laugh like tinkling bells. “Why, yes. In fact you could say that the two of us were rather close.” She steps closer to you and the portrait, a knowing smirk on her face. “It was actually me that painted that portrait.”

“You?” you blurt out suddenly. Then you realize how rude you must sound. "Forgive me, my Lady,” you say, ducking your head in apology. “I meant no disrespect. I just didn’t know you were the artistic type.”

“Oh, I’ve dabbled in a lot of different art forms in my life, pet,” she says, and you see her eyes mist over as she reminisces. “I was classically trained in opera, I’ve painted landscapes and portraits, written poetry...I even was a jazz singer for a time. I made that portrait when I was 25. I was a very different woman than the one you see now.” She smiles self-deprecatingly. “Well, aside from the obvious, anyway.”

“It’s exquisite,” you breathe as you lean your head to get a better look at the portrait. You think of something and turn to her. “Do you still paint, my Lady?”

“Lately I’ve taken to sketching. And now that you know my secret,” she says, giving you a conspiratorial wink. “Perhaps I might come in here and do my sketching while you clean.”

You suddenly remember the actual purpose of why you came to this room in the first place. “Right! I need to polish the bells! I’ll just get started on that, then!”

You hear her chuckle low in her throat as you scramble up the ladder, taking out your polish. You look over back at her and she has sat down on the sofa, slipping a pair of pearl chain half-moon spectacles over her nose. She takes out her pens and charcoal, flips to a new page in her sketchbook and bends her dark head down to work.

Soon you and Alcina have a little arrangement going where every time you enter the Atelier to work on your tasks, you know you will soon see Alcina ducking her head under the lintel to work on her sketching. While you are on the ladder, you sneak glances at her every so often. Her lashes kiss the tips of her cheekbones and her brow is furrowed in concentration. Sometimes you will look from her to the portrait and you conclude that if possible, her aging has made her even more beautiful.

You feel a hand on your back and jump making the ladder wobble slightly. The hand braces you against the ladder so you don’t fall and you hear a soft chuckle behind you. “I’m sorry, dear. I suppose I should have announced my presence beforehand. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s not a problem,” you say and you feel color flood your cheeks as you see you are truly face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. Her face is merely inches from yours. Her golden eyes catch the light from the chandelier and up close you see they are not just golden but with hints of silver around the iris.

“There’s this spot around the gears that doesn’t get enough attention that I’d like to show you,” Alcina hands hover around your waist. “May I?”

You nod your consent and she gently moves you on the ladder until you’re on the other side. She bends down and whispers in your ear. “Just between the cog and the gear. Do you see it?” The smell of her perfume is intoxicating. You nod that you understand and she smiles. “Good! I know you always do a thorough job and I wanted to bring that to your attention.” With that she settles back down and resumes her sketching.

This goes on for a while, you working while Alcina is sketching. Occasionally she will take a break and stand nearby observing you as you work. You find it difficult to concentrate when she is around but she eventually smiles to herself saying, “Yes. Very good,” before returning to her seat. A couple times you are not certain but you think you might have seen a flush creep up her cheekbones before she resumes her sketching.

A couple of weeks of this go by and you notice Alcina is not satisfied with the progress of her drawing. You see that she is erasing more often and often starts from a completely new page in her sketchbook. “No, no, this isn’t right!” you hear her say aloud one day. You chance a look at her as you are on the ladder polishing the candlesticks. She is furiously scribbling on the sketchpad and when a loose lock of her ebony hair falls into her eyes, she pushes it impatiently away. You try to lean down further to get a better look. You’ve seen how talented she is, surely the sketch couldn’t be that bad…

Suddenly you feel the ladder twist from under you as you lose your balance. Your arms pinwheel helplessly in the air as you try to regain your footing but to no avail. You shut your eyes tight as you fall, hoping at the most you’ll just sprain an ankle.

Instead of the hard floor, you fall into something soft. You open your eyes and jolt back as you see Alcina’s aureate eyes staring back into yours. She chuckles. “It appears I cannot do much but startle you these days it seems.” She looks at you with a concerned expression. “Are you all right, dear?”

“Yes, my Lady, I’m fine,” you mumble. You blush scarlet as you are very aware that her gloved hand is on your upper thigh, your skirt riding up in her haste to catch you. She becomes aware of this too and smoothes your skirt down, murmuring an apology, but not before you catch the blush in her cheeks.

She turns her head quickly away to hide it, her hat covering her profile. “Would you like to take a moment and rest, dear? You’ve been working so hard, you deserve a break.”

You nod soundlessly and she takes you over to the sofa where she has been doing her sketching. She closes her sketchbook with a snap before you can get a good look at it.

A maid arrives with Alcina’s afternoon tea. “Set out an extra cup for Y/N, if you please,” she commands the parlor maid. The maid nods and pours you both cups of steaming apple cinnamon tea, perfect for a cold winter’s day.

When the maid bows and leaves, you turn to Lady Dimitrescu. You clear your throat. “Um, my Lady?”

She smiles at you over her teacup. “Yes, pet?”

You can’t help it. You’re positively burning with curiosity at this point. “What have you been drawing?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Alcina’s cheekbones flood with color. “Oh, it’s nothing special really,” she says hurriedly. “Just some scribbles.”

You can hardly believe it. Was Lady Dimitrescu, usually so full of pride and grace, embarrassed? You see a scrap of paper on the ground near the sofa and pick it up. Alcina tries to stop you but you’ve already turned it over in your hands. You let out a little gasp of surprise as you see what Alcina has been drawing all this time.

There on the paper is a charcoal drawing of you polishing the bells. In the corner of the page is a closeup of you, your face shining in the chandelier light.

You look back at her, your mouth open in shock. When you finally gain the ability to form words, you ask, “Is this what you’ve been working on all this time, my Lady?” you ask quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Alcina nods and opens her sketchbook to show even more pages of you. You staring at her portrait, you reaching up on your toes on the ladder to dust off a high shelf, you pouring her tea. There are pages upon pages of your likeness.

Alcina turns her head to face you. “I must confess that I had been in need of a new muse for my art,” she says. “When I saw you gazing at my portrait, something stirred within me. There is something about you that draws me to you.” She takes your chin gently in her gloved hand.

“Your hair,” she says, and she takes off your cap and settles your unbound hair about your shoulders. “Even pinned under your cap, it cannot conceal its beauty.” She takes your hand in hers. “Your skin,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to the back of your hand, making you feel a pleasant shiver go down your arm. “How it shines under the lamplight. Your eyes.” She is moving ever closer. “The way I could get lost in those fathomless depths. And your lips…”

Her face is so close to yours now, her lips parted. “What about my lips?” you whisper, scarcely daring to breathe.

You are not quite sure who closes the distance between you first, but you are suddenly in Alcina’s arms and you are kissing her fiercely, your hands weaving their way through her ebony locks. Her hands settle themselves around your waist as her tongue gently parts your lips. You lay back on the sofa and bring her head gently down with you. She braces one hand on the side of the couch while the other gently holds the back of your head.

The sound of the clock chiming startles you, making you break apart suddenly. Alcina lets out a girlish giggle. “We simply have to do something about those nerves of yours, draga mea,” she purrs. You smile and lift your head up to receive her kiss again.

[collecting-stories]

Jolly Rancher - JJ Maybank

Request: Hey! Do you think you could do an imagine where the reader is Sarah’s twin and all the pogues are at a party or on the boat and her blood sugar drops really low (she has type one diabetes) and her pump keeps beeping. She is mid passing out, not feeling good and rafe has her Insulin so little bit of big brother rafe worried about his little sister and JJ and her not being together yet but he was super worried about her (like all of the pogues tbh). Thanks xxxx I really love your writing 🥺 every time you post something it makes my day

A/N: I did moderate research for this because the only person I actually know with diabetes is a cousin I don’t speak to. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

In hindsight, taking the Druthers out in the bay for a party after sunset wasn’t exactly the best idea you and Sarah had ever come up with. And yeah, technically, taking the boat out would have been totally fine and acceptable but none of you had considered bringing anything but alcohol with you. Six pogues (two honorary) on a yacht in the middle of the bay with just alcohol and weed. It was a bad combination in any version of the world but especially in this one, where you’d been pregaming white claw because you were finally, finally, gonna tell JJ how you felt about him.

The crush had been a saga ongoing since you had first discovered JJ Maybank, which coincided with discovering that boys, while terrible, were incredibly attractive. And sometimes...not too terrible. John B had started working for your family the summer before highschool and at the same time JJ started to pop up. Around the Druthers when John B was cleaning the boat, in a neighbor’s yard mowing the grass or cleaning the pool. And then at the Island Club. By then you’d started hanging out with Kiara and her friends and JJ wasn’t just some cute guy who was friends with John B.  

“Honey,” Kiara laughed, reaching for the can of Naturdays in your hand, “I think you need to slow down.”  

“I’m fine.” You promised, knee jerking rapidly as you gulped the rest of the drink down before Kiara could take it from you.  

You weren’t a heavy drinker. The last time you’d gotten drunk was in ninth grade, at a house party on the cut with Kiara. You’d guzzled down one too many Pabst trying to act cool in front of JJ and had ended up in the hospital in diabetic shock. Once everyone was sure you weren’t going to die, your father had laid into you about how irresponsible you were and how you had acted like a child. It was embarrassing, mostly because you were still saddled to a hospital bed and your friends were standing in the hallway, well within ear shot of Ward.  

After that, you stayed away from anything more than two drinks at a party and you always kept your insulin with you. Except, apparently, for tonight. You’d gotten yourself worked up over confessing your feelings to JJ and the possibility of rejection that you were well on the way to drunk. And your insulin was in your backpack, in Rafe’s truck.  

“You’re not fine.” Kiara laughed, “you’re like, buzzing.”

“Buzzing,” you offered her a dopey smile as you leaned forward, whirling your pointer finger around as you made buzzing noises and tried to poke her.  

“What the hell?” She swatted your hand away, “are you sure you’re okay?”

The commotion was enough to get Sarah’s attention and she turned away from John B to look over at the two of you. “You’re like vibrating babe,” Sarah said, “you’re really jittery.”

“Fine, I’m fine...I’m all good.” You promised, bracing your hand on Sarah’s shoulder as you went to stand up. You missed your footing, tripping over the air and hitting the deck before either Kiara or Sarah could catch you.  

“Oh my god!” Kiara got down on her knees next to you and helped you sit up, leaning partially against her. She pushed your shirt up so that she could check your pump and noticed realized it had been going off. “Hey, do you have like...something to boost her blood sugar? I think it’s dropping really low, I can’t really read this?”

“It’s definitely low.” You replied, hands shaking as you checked your pump, “yeah...too much...too much alcohol.”

“Where’s your insulin?” Sarah asked, crouching down so she could try to meet your eyes, “hey, look at me, where’s your insulin?”  

You hummed, a little too long before finally looking at Sarah, “uh, Rafe’s...shit, Rafe’s truck.”

“Are you kidding me? Fuck!” Sarah cursed, getting up to grab her phone so she could call him, “John B, can you take us back?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, heading for the ladder.  

“Here!” JJ pushed through Pope and Kiara, spilling the contents of his backpack onto the deck beside you. Amongst a change of clothes, some pilfered pens, his wallet, house keys, weed, a stick of deodorant, and a travel toothbrush, was a bag of jolly ranchers. He grabbed a green one out and unwrapped it, holding it out to you, “here, it’ll make you feel better.”

“You have a bag of jolly ranchers in your backpack?” Kiara asked incredulously.

“Of course,” JJ replied, “if her sugar drops she said one jolly rancher usually does the trick.”  

It was a stupid thing to smile about, especially since you were currently using Kiara to hold yourself up and sucking on green apple jolly rancher, but you couldn’t help it. You had mentioned that ages ago, the first time you went out with the pogues after your drunken night turned ER visit, as you sat on the dock next to JJ. You had doubted he’d even cared and been embarrassed afterward for just rambling on about yourself but he remembered.

“You remembered,” you said as JJ sat beside you, letting you lean on his shoulder as the yacht headed back to the dock.  

Sarah had gotten a hold of Rafe quicker than she expected. He was already talking when he answered the phone, telling her that he was on the way back from Topper’s. According to Rafe he turned his truck immediately, that was what he told you later, when you were feeling more like yourself again. That he’d realized your backpack was still sitting on the passenger seat and he did a u-turn right there in the middle of the street. You weren’t sure that was totally true, your older brother’s pension for dramatics and your family’s obsession with treating you like a baby.  

Usually, it felt stifling but right now you were feeling pretty shitty about yourself. The jolly rancher did exactly what it was supposed to, boosting your blood sugar enough that you were beginning to feel better.  

“What were thinking?” Rafe called the minute he boarded the Druthers, “you know alcohol makes your blood sugar drop!”

“I know, I know!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. You’d moved from the floor to the couch, JJ leaving your side the minute your brother ran up the jetty. “I’m not a kid Rafe,” you muttered, grabbing your backpack from him.

“Really? Cause you left your bag in my truck and you’re out here drinking your ass off.” He snapped.  

“She’s okay,” Sarah urged.

“What if she wasn’t?”

“I am! And I’m right here!” You huffed, “Rafe, thank you and I know you were worried but I’m okay.”  

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to be dad here...but you can’t take risks like that, you know better.”  

“I’m fine!” You slung your backpack over your shoulder and pushed passed Rafe, climbing down the ladder to the jetty. You’d apologize later, for now you were irritable and embarrassed and you just wanted to be back in your room, locked in where no one could see you and remind you how horrible this entire night was. The only decent thing that had happened was JJ but the more you let yourself psychoanalyze everything that happened the more you were positive that the pogues just saw you as a kid too. Like you couldn’t take care of yourself. Like you hadn’t been for the last ten years, since you were diagnosed.  

The Druthers said docked but you couldn’t tell from your bedroom window if everyone had gone home or if they were still hanging out and partying. You thought about texting Sarah but she would just tell you to come back down to the dock and stop pouting in your bedroom. You did your usual checks, to make sure your blood sugar had gone back up, and changed into comfier clothes. Even scrubbing off your makeup...you’d let this shitty feeling die before you saw anyone again.  

Or at least, that was the plan. As you were sitting in bed though, a knock at your window startled you. Not just a tap but a full-on knock. You climbed out of bed and went to the window, laughing when you saw JJ standing on the small balcony off your room.  

“What are you doing here?” You mouthed, reaching for the lock so you could open the window.

He pointed to his ear and then shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t hear you.”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed the window open and sat on the sill, “What are you doing here JJ?” You were trying your best to calm your racing heart, the last thing you needed was to go into cardiac arrest in front of him too.

“You left the party.”

“Not exactly in a partying mood...I was being stupid tonight.”

He sat down on the windowsill beside you, facing out toward the backyard but turning to look at you, “hey, I’m stupid every night.”

“You know what I mean,” you laughed, “I’m so careful...I haven’t had a night that bad in a long time.”

“Why weren’t you? Careful, tonight, I mean.” He asked.  

“It’s stupid.” You put your hands on your knees and looked away from him. You’d hyped yourself up to crashing lows and now he wanted you to tell him why? “You should go back to the party.”

“Not really in the mood...can you believe it?” He laughed like it was nothing but you could hear the heaviness in his voice.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault...I just meant. If you’re up here, I don’t really feel like hanging out down there.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and looked over at him, feeling just the slightest catch in your throat. For a second you thought this night was going to get even worse and you’d throw up...but instead you just started talking, words falling out with no control, “I pregamed with Sarah before we even got on the Druthers cause I told her I was gonna tell you tonight that I liked you but I was so nervous that you would tell me you didn’t wanna date me so I just kept drinking...” you said. You realized a moment later what the implication was, “not that its on you that my sugars dropped...or like, not that you have to say you like me just cause I almost passed out.”

“What if I do like you though?”  

“You do?” You asked, shifting more toward him, “seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously...why do you think I came all the way up here? Or carry around jolly ranchers? I like you...I’d do anything for you.” He replied.  

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you leaned closer to him, “oh well, now it’s definitely your fault.”  

He laughed, “let me make it up to you.”  

You nodded, standing up and climbing back through the window before holding your hand out for him. JJ was quick to his feet, taking your hand and pushing the window closed as he followed you further into your room.  

[xgryffinwhore]

Hey! Can I request a jaeden martell x reader where basically their charters are dating on a tv show and they are really really good best friends in real life and they they both go on the Jimmy fallon show and he keeps on asking if they’re dating because everyone thinks they are and when they say no he obvi doesn’t let it go lol and it ends up slipping up that jaeden did/ does have a crush on reader and they maybe end up sharing a kiss in front is Jimmy & audience & stuff😶just an idea i had 😂:)

i love this idea wow, thinking i’m going to put my own little twist on it but i think you’ll still be pleased ;)

just friends

warnings!: suggestive topics, fluff

word count: 2.1k

five

your face was being touched up with powder, the cotton pad dabbing at your nose as the white powder absorbed into any oil your face may have had.

four

you look over at jimmy, this wasn’t your first talk show, but it had been the biggest one with the most following. it was intimidating, you bounced your foot up and down and played with your hands.

three

behavior jaeden had grown to recognize. he knew you better then you knew yourself, your anxiety was worse then you put it out to be. “you ok?” he questioned, “fine, i’m fine” you painted a small smile on your face. but he wasn’t easily fooled.

two

he grabbed one of your hands and rubbed circles into your palm, this sent vibrations of relaxation down your spine.

one

his eyes locked with yours, you swore they were a different color each time you saw them. sometimes more blue, sometimes more green, sometimes dark with mystery, sometimes light and playful.

‘aaand where on air’

you wiped the hand that was interlocked with his off on your dress, it was clammy. the curtain came up fast, and your vision was soon flooded with bright lights and silhouettes of bodies.

making out the faces in the sea of people was impossible, but you knew your friends were out there. they had flown out to see you, a) they could go see new york and b) you were on national television, and they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

jimmy was talking, you knew that much, but your nerves took over and honestly you weren’t registering a damn thing he was saying. the crowd cheered, you snapped out of your daze.

“and here tonight, we have jaeden martell and y/n l/n from the new HBO tv series: turning tables”

he turned to both of us, and gave everyone time to clap. he tired to speak over the loud hands, moving on with his show, but the crowd made that difficult. eventually the clapping died out and he could continue.

“now, i’ve watched all of the episodes but, for the people who haven’t seen: can you explain what the show is about?” he looked a jaeden, you let go of a breathe you had held in.

“s-sure” jaeden turned to face the audience more, he was soft spoken and shy, so it was important he projected as much as he could.

“turning tables is a teen drama. it’s about families of poverty in the seattle washington area and how they struggle to go to school and work. my character, jennings cooper, is the main protagonist. the show is mainly from his point of view, and how he struggle to support his family.”

jimmy nods and smiles, he looks pleased with his explanation. i’m truth the show wasn’t that simple, he knew that. but, it would take so long to explain.

“and y/n, who do you play?” he knew the answer to this obviously, but you were becoming a crowd favorite. everyone loved your personality, and you were an up-and-coming a list celebrity.

“i play parker marlow, jennings girlfriend” you blushed at this statement, the crowd giggled and ‘ouuu’ed. jimmy rubbed his hands together, getting excited at the upcoming topic of discussion.

“so, your romance on season one was steamy” you thought back to the scenes you did together. all of the kissing, which felt normal at this point. he wasn’t a bad kisser, in fact- you didn’t mind it at all. your romance through the season built up to a sex scene, your mind flashed through the memories of filming it.

filming those scenes isnt half as steamy as you think it is. it’s awkward, you laugh a lot. you had never felt that exposed in your life! however watching it was different, it looked so real, so perfect.

you blurred out your thoughts, mr. fallon still speaking on the subject. “can we expect more -“ jimmy searched for your ship name, it was on the tip of his tongue. the combination of your first names on the show didn’t make an attractive combo. it was either jarker or pennings. your last names matched a little better.

“-carlow” jaeden finished for him. jimmy nodded and smiled “yes- carlow- can we expect more carlow next season?” you both looked at each other and smiled. the writers for the show already had the next four seasons laid out. you knew that carlow was a continuing relationship on the show.

“yes, you should expect more of that sort of content from us” you stated. the people in the crowd had a positive responce to this, the applause lapping until it died out once again.

“right, your characters have so much chemistry in the show. two struggling teens just trying to break even.” jaeden agreed “yes, our characters balance each other out, and being from the same background helps them associate. jennings is kind of a bad boy-as the ladies say- he’s a felon, he steels cars and sells them to counterfeit manufacturers and dealers for money. parker, y/n’s character, has a job at a diner. she shows him the light at the end of the tunnel if he chooses to go down a good path.”

“yes, parker gets jennings a job at the diner with her, and he falls for her sweet disposition even after everything she’s been through” you add.

jimmy licks his lips and pops another question: “so id imagine the chemistry in the show heightens the real life thing?” he cocked an eye brow, the group gasping at the intrusiveness.

“jaeden and i are just friends” you blurt out, your nerves working up again. it was hard, you liked jaeden ever since you had your first kiss with him.

“y-yeah” he stutters, he obviously wasn’t expecting this either “friends” jimmy shakes his head and puts his finger on his lip “recently, you both have been showing a lot of pictures of you two together on social media.”

the audience ‘awwwed’ at the photos that displayed behind you. on the screen, there were pictures of you and him that were on both of your instagrams. you two at gardens, getting food, even watching movies at each other’s houses.

“for just friends, these photos looks intimate , wouldn’t you say” a bunch of ‘yes’’s and ‘mhm’’s came from the crowd as both of your faces became red.

“we’re just best friends, honestly” jaeden laughed nervously, he fixed his hair with his hand has he always does.

“right right- can you tell me when this photo is from?” jimmy asked, the last picture flashing on the screen. it was of you both, you had just filmed your first scene together.

the first scene you filmed together was episode two, he saved you after you fell into ice cold water. it was how the characters met, and it was filmed at a cove on a windy august day.

the picture was a little blurry, but it added character. he had his arm around you, both of your hair soaked, and you share a huge towel. you remember how cold you were, your teeth chattered so rapidly. his hair was stuck to his forehead and more small pieces went up. and your lips were almost purple, half from the makeup, half because you swore that was the coldest water you had ever went in.

“that’s from when we first started filming, it was the first time we met in the show” you recited, re living the memory in your head. you remember jaeden pulling your head into his chest when the wind began blowing. you remember his thumb trying to create friction on your back to make you just a little warm.

“yes yes- you two look so adorable!” jimmy squealed, he was the most teenage-girl-grown-man you had ever met. his hand opened one of the drawers in the faux desk he sat behind, pulling out a small blue camcorder.

the camcorder.

you know how on tv shows, there is special footage? sometimes it’s just behind the scene specials but sometimes- sometimes - it’s footage the actors document when they were just having fun? yeah it was one of those camcorders.

the camcorder was brought in by the two other co hosts wyatt oleff and finn wolfhard (i know this cast is sooo original not really) they played jaedens two best friends on the show. while they weren’t filming, they’d dick around and talk about stupid stuff. you’d never seen what they filmed, but you had been featured quite a few times; their by them pranking you, or invading your personal space.

you looked over at jaeden, you watched his adam’s apple bob and a thin layer of sweat flush over his face. he bounced his leg slightly, a habit he had picked up from you.

“let’s just review our material here” jimmy teased, his tongue darting out between his teeth. the video began to play, the sound was loud; assumingely for jaeden quiet voice in the tape.

the video started with wyatts unsteady hand, him and finn were running around set, they stopped at jaeden, he was playing on his phone in his trailer.

“jaeden wesley we have come for you” finn yelled. you could see jaeden shoot up from his chair. “hey guys” he waved. they talked for around a minute, jokes and all. then finn started to giggle, wyatt zoomed in on jaedens face.

“so jaeden, how’s y/n?” he chuckled, jaeden blushed “she’s ok i guess dunno.” wyatt stopped zooming in when the only thing in frame was jaedens head. “the kiss was good hm?” wyatt asked. jaeden continued to play on his phone, he nodded. “yeah, she’s pretty cute too.”

the video cut to another segment, this was filmed after the sex scene. you knew because jaeden laid on the bed you, in the same underwear that he wore during the scene. the boys were jumping on the bed, and jaeden took the camera and talked to it.

“this is for memory and memory ONLY! h-hey y/nnn” he was talking to the camera like it was you “you’re amazing and cool” you could hear finn explode into laughter as he stole the camera back and started running “yeah! and he wants your babies and loves you so much-“ “SHUT UP FINN!!!” and jaeden chased him around.

the video was taken off the screen. your face had become close to ghostly white. it was weird, it was almost like he was dumb enough to think finn wouldn’t give jimmy this blackmail goldmine. you looked at jaeden, he hit his bottom lip until it was red, he itches his neck and laughed it off.

“yeah ok-ok jimmy, maybe i liked her back in the day” jaeden tried so hard to be casual, but jimmy hit him with a heart stopper: “but mr martell, the last clip was filmed less then a month ago!”

your mind flickered with memories and ideas of him.

your first time meeting, how good his hand felt in yours. when you wiped icecream off his chin, and him dotting icecream on to the top of your nose. the way his hair always fell perfectly above his eye brow. and SHIT how he always smelt so fucking good. how he let you fall asleep in his arms and how he never complained when you put on some stupid romcom and-

“y/n?” jimmy questioned. “huh?” you spaced, come on y/n you gotta stop doing that. “i asked how you felt about all of this.” “well, there isn’t a right word i can use.”

jaeden took this has a bad reaction, he did a small wave to the crowd and stood up to get off the stage.

you stood up, grabbed his hand, and laid one right on him. kissing him felt normal, but now that there was emotion behind it, it just felt so right.

you both stopped for air, the crowd went wild. jimmy was clapping too, you could barley hear them, your heart was pumping throughout your whole body. you swore jaeden could hear it.

after the show, you sat in your dressing room for a bit, contemplating the events of tonight, and how they were all broadcasted for your embarrassment. but it was only the beginning. only the beginning of what was to come for mr. and mrs. jaeden martell.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Hey buddy,” Spencer sat down in the chair next to Henry who was coloring at the table after dinner.

“Hi Uncle Spencer,” Henry replied, switching his orange marker out for a green one.

“So Josephine seemed pretty cool,” Spencer started.

He wanted to know more about his possible kid before going to Y/N. If it was true and she would let him meet her, he wanted to know all about her.

“Yeah, she sits at the same table group as me in class. One time when we were playing tag at recess, I fell and hurt my knee but she kissed it three times and said that’s what her Mommy does when she has a boo boo and it didn’t hurt anymore,” Henry explained.

“Does she talk about her Mommy a lot?” Spencer asked.

“She loves her Mommy like sooooo much. She says her Mommy says she doesn’t need a Daddy because her Mommy loves her extra,” Henry smiled.

“That’s nice,” Spencer said, getting up from the table.

Spencer was glad to hear that Y/N and Josephine seemed to be having a good life. He was just saddened that it didn’t include him even if she wasn’t his kid. He didn’t blame Y/N for not telling him if it was his. He honestly would have had no idea how he would have handled that news back then.

-

“And that is the difference between a stressor and a trigger. Any questions?” Spencer slid his hands into his pockets as he looked out into the audience.

The students were silent. Most of the girls appeared to be in a daze but still looking at him. Spencer furrowed his brow.

“Okay well then, I will see you next Monday. We will be covering chapter four section three of your textbook regarding victimology so I would suggest skimming it over before class,” Spencer finished.

He grabbed satchel from the desk and quickly exited the lecture hall. He had looked up the class schedules in the administration office and Y/N was also finishing a lecture at this time. Spencer was hoping to catch her before she could run away again.

He quietly slipped into the back of the lecture hall, taking a seat in the last row.

“Okay! That is it for today. Remember, we have a lab next class so closed toe shoes only and long hair tied back please. Have a great day, everyone,” you announced.

Students began to file out of the room, some coming up to your desk with questions so Spencer hung out in his seat a little longer. Once the last student had their question answered, Spencer got up and made his way to your desk as you were packing up your things. When you heard the footsteps, you looked up with a friendly smile that was immediately replaced with a grimace.

You grabbed your bag and keys and bolted. However, Spencer was expecting this and was hot on your tail.

“Y/N, please slow down. I just want to talk,” he pleaded as he chased you across the campus, garnering funny looks from people passing by.

You sighed and halted your movement. Spencer was not expecting this so he almost crashed into you. You took a step back to regain your personal space.

You looked around, noticing some people were staring.

“Let’s go to the coffee shop on campus,” you suggested.

Spencer still remembered how you took your coffee after all these years and insisted on paying even though you told him that wasn’t necessary.

You both sat down in a quiet booth in the corner. You were nervously fiddling with the coffee cup sleeve and avoiding eye contact.

“I-Is Josephine mine?” Spencer asked.

You could feel his eyes burrowing into your skull. You couldn’t lie to him, I mean you could but you wouldn’t get away with it because he was a profiler.

You finally looked up and made eye contact, “Yes, she is,” you stated.

Spencer smiled softly with tears brimming his eyes.

“Did you know before I Ieft?” Spencer sniffled.

“No, I found out after,” you responded.

Silence fell over the both of you.

“Why did you break up with me, Spencer? It all happened so fast that I never got a reason. We could have made long-distance work if you actually cared,” you spoke softly.

“Y/N please do not doubt that I cared about you. I loved you, I think I still do after all these years. I just thought you would be better off without me holding you back and not having a lot of personal time to visit you. It doesn’t mean I ever stopped thinking about you. I just thought you deserved someone better,” Spencer explained.

“Yeah well no one wanted to date the single mom in college. Guys would run for the hills when I told them,” you chucked sardonically.

“I’m sorry” is all Spencer could manage to say.

He thought he was doing Y/N a favor by breaking up with her but instead he made everything worse. He abandoned her to figure out how to take care of their child on her own.

“Can I-um...I would love to get to know her more,” Spencer stuttered.

“Spencer, I don’t know if that’s the best-” you started to say.

“Please,” Spencer begged.

You closed your eyes and exhaled.

“You can come with me to pick her up from the school if you want. You can play with her for an hour with my supervision. Under no circumstances are you to tell her that you are her father,” you demanded.

“Understood,” Spencer nodded.

You finished the last sip of your coffee and slid out of the booth, tossing it in the trash can.

“Let’s go,” you motioned for him to follow you.

Spencer scrambled out of his seat to catch up with you.

You unlocked the car and you both hopped in. Spencer noticed the backseat of your car had random toys and articles of children’s clothing scattered around and he smiled at just the thought that they belonged to his daughter.

When you pulled into the school parking lot, you turned to speak to him for the first time since he entered the car.

“You stay here,” you said as you turned the car off.

Spencer watched as you approached the line of kids and a genuine smile grew on your face. Josephine ran over to you and was immediately scooped up and littered in kisses. Josephine was dressed in overalls with a dinosaur sweater and a mini pair of converse. Y/N whispered something in her ear and she nodded as they made their way back to the car.

“Jo, you remember Spencer, Henry’s friend?” you opened the car door.

“Hi Josephine!” Spencer greeted.

Jo snuggled herself closer into your neck.

“Why are you being shy today, Baby J? Remember you already met him? He told you all those cool dino facts. Maybe he can tell you some more on the way home,” you bounced the child in your arms a few times before gently placing her into the car seat and buckling her in.

“Josephine, I remember you said stegosauruses were your favorite. Stegosaurus actually means ‘roofed lizard’ and their brains were the size of ping pong balls,” Spencer was looking at the child through the rearview mirror.

He heard the sweetest little giggle. The sound was music to his ears.

“Mommy, did you hear that? They have ping pong balls for brains,” Jo laughed.

“Yes, baby, I heard but I think Spencer said they were the size of ping pong balls, not actual ping pong balls,” you smiled as you corrected her.

Spencer turned around to face her now that Jo was feeling more comfortable.

“They also weighed about two tons which is about the same weight as this car,” Spencer smiled.

“Woah,” Jo exclaimed in awe.

“Okay! We’re home! Jo, you can play with Spencer for a little but then we have to do your ABC’s homework,” you explained as you parked the car in your driveway.

You lived in a small grayish blue house. It had a tiny gated backyard but you usually just took Jo to the park anyways. It was enough for the two of you. You moved in last year after accepting the job at Georgetown.

You unbuckled Jo and unlocked the front door with Spencer awkwardly standing behind you until he felt a tug on his sleeve.

“I want to show you my room,” Jo said.

“Sure! I would love to see it,” Spencer replied as he was tugged by Jo up the stairs.

Spencer laughed when he saw Jo’s bedroom. It was decked out in everything dinosaur. Dinosaur wallpaper, bed sheets, toys, and a carpet.

“You really love dinos, don’t you?” Spencer smiled.

Jo nodded, beaming as she seemed to be very proud of her room.

“Jo, I’ve got a snack for you,” Y/N called out from downstairs.

The little kid lit up even more and ran down the stairs, leaving Spencer alone in the room. He saw a small little bookshelf with picture books, mostly about dinosaurs. It was nice to know his daughter shared his love of reading.

“You have a lovely home,” Spencer complimented as he entered the kitchen.

“Thank you, I don’t know if you want some apple slices and peanut butter too. I would offer you something else but I haven’t had time to go grocery shopping this week,” you explained.

“It’s all good. If you ever need help-” Spencer began.

“We’re quite alright,” you snapped.

A silence fell over the room, even Jo picked up on it and stopped the loud chewing of her apple.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, patting the top of Jo’s head to tell her she could continue eating, “We’ve been on our own for so long that I can sometimes get a little defensive when someone suggests I can’t handle it.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I think you have done a wonderful job raising Josephine. But, I also had a single mom so I know that sometimes there just aren’t enough hours in the day,” he replied.

“Thank you,” is all you said.

Spencer glanced at his watch, “I should get going. My hour is up. If it’s okay with you, I would love to come over again sometime,” Spencer said.

“Leave your number and I’ll text you,” you replied, handing him a scrap piece of paper and a pen.

“Bye Josephine!” Spencer smiled at the kid who had peanut butter smeared all over her face.

“Ew, Jo! Did you get any in your mouth?” you laughed.

“Bye Spencer!” she attempted to wave to him as you were wiping her face and hands with a damp paper towel.

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress pt.IX

Warnings: Alcohol, swearing, mentions of death.

(So, sorry this is so short)

   After talking with Phil you both decided it would be best to return to the party. Although you weren't looking forward to seeing the lingering looks and stares, you were looking forward to dancing with Techno. Now that you've had a moment to ease your senses, you were able to push away the others and focus on your lover.

   When Techno saw you walk in with Phil, his lips turned into a smile. He offered his arm back to you, of course you took it without hesitation. Phil was happy to see you two having fun together, a lot of the things techno did with you, was what Phil did with his wife. So seeing you two was almost a blast from the past.

   "Feeling better?" He asked softly. His arm rested on your forearm. Wanting to clarify that you were ok. You gave him a nod and smiled.

   "Much better." He gave a reassuring nod and turned to the crowd again. You noticed the lingering eyes had fallen back to you. As much as you wanted to say the two of you looked like a casual couple. Techno was dressed beautifully in his traditional military uniform, truly looking regal and official. Like Sarah, she was also in her traditional uniform as well. Although looking around, most of the attendees were in uniform. This is what Sarah must have meant when she said that most of her friends were within her ranks. Even as Sarah's Maid of Honor, you were dressed very nicely. Purples and reds adorned the dress. Techno's favorite colors. You didn't know it, but Techno had specifically requested that you were dressed as regal as possible. Since this was the first time the public, and court would see you, he wanted to make a lasting impression with you. He knew you weren't the most ladylike, but for what your manners lacked, your personality made up for. You were kind and always willing to correct yourself. He only hoped that the court would see this as well.

   After a while Techno and you had found a comfortable seat to eat a little late dinner. Of course the meal last long as the time came for the brides to have their dance with the fathers. On Sarah's behalf this meant a dance with Techno. You had no problem offering him up to her of course. You knew she had no intention of stealing Techno or anything of the sorts. when they made their way to the ball room floor, the two contrasted greatly. Technoblade was dressed in darks well Seraphina was in whites, It was beautiful to say the least, but then again most things within this palace was.

   Well Techno and Sarah danced, you felt little hands tug at the hem of your dress. Tommy. You looked down at the little boy. Like his brother's he was dressed just as nice. You couldn't help smiling wide, taking him into your arms. When you rested him on your knee he quickly became interested with the items on the table. Of course you didn't mind though. You even offered him the roll from your plate, knowing they were his favorite. When you looked up, you saw Philza give you a gentle nod, and a smile. Acknowledging Tommy was with you.

   Well you watched your lover dance with the bride, a middle-aged man had approached you and Tommy. He was dressed well, but not in uniform. He looked loosely bemused as he offered you a drink. You gave a shy smile but politely declined. "You don't drink?" He inquired. His eyebrow lifting in question. He didn't look kind, but he also didn't look mean.

   "Not particularly, I'm sorry" you said softly. Pulling Tommy closer to you subconsciously. You were unsure of the man as he took Technoblade's chair ever so casually.

   "Oh your alright, give it time. You'll take up drinking" he said too casually, leaning into the chair. You blinked a bit, taken back by his words.

   "I... I beg your pardon?" You asked, wanting to clarify what you herd. He looked at you and raised a semi bushy brow.

   "You'll take up drinking. As long as your with that man there" He pointed to Techno "I bet you'll become an alcoholic even." His eyebrow quirked as a devious smirk formed. His eyes were lingering Technoblade, who unbeknownst to you, had a not so happy look when seeing you and the man. "Or I bet you'll mysteriously go missing, or die" your eyes glanced about, now looking for a familiar face. The longer this man was with you, the more uncomfortable you grew with his presence.

"I.. I’m doubtful that will happen.. Technoblade is a kind man to me..." you said carefully, your eyes flickering to the man well you held Tommy close. Protective of him from the rather rude man In front of you.

   The mans eyes lingered to Tommy and back to you. "We'll see..." he dropped that conversation for a new one. "Where are my manners, my name is Leon Schmidt." He held his hand out for you. Adjusting Tommy you offered your hand and shook his. To your surprise your hand was stronger than his. His hands were not worn and worked with trade, but instead soft, and made for pens and books. With this small note you felt a slight surge of confidence.

   "Nice to meet you... I'm (y/n)-" he cut you off quickly.

   You felt a warm hand rest on your shoulder. The hardened tone of the person ran through. Technoblade. "Schmidt." You could see Leon's Adams apple bob slightly as techno addressed him. "I see you have met (y/n)" Techno's tone wasn't kind, rather harsh to be frank.

   "Oh I know who you are. Your very popular among us court members." He said taking his hand back, almost looking as if he wiped it. He took his drink in his hand and took the one he brought you. "As a sign of friendship and with the hopes the Emperor takes care of you. Lets drink to your health." He offered the drink again. You took it but you were hesitant. You didn't want to drink, but what would happen if you declined? He held his glass out for a toast. You glanced your glass to his and slowly toasted. You looked down to the glass and thought back. You didn't want to disappoint Techno, and have the court pressure him about you. The liquid was rolling with pearlescent Yellow's, orange's and red's. With a glance to Techno you carefully took a sip. Setting it aside after. Having no desire to drink more. You felt the liquid drop down your throat, a slow buildup of warmth filling your body.

Alcohol.

   "That I have... How long until this one ends up bored, or dead, Blood God?" You glanced up to Techno and saw his Jaw lock.

"For your information, Leon... I intend to marry (y/n)..." his hand held firm but kind on your shoulder. Acting almost like a protector of Tommy and you. Your face went red, your heart beating much faster. He Intended to marry you? Well Tommy played with the beads of your dress, your mind raced at the idea of you and him being a official couple. Would you have a wedding like this? Would he actually want that?

   "Marriage? With her?" The man chocked out a loud laugh. This left Techno seething. However, Techno's attention was drawn from Leon's boisterous laugh to you instead. You weren't acting normal. With your hand subconsciously your throat you loosely rubbed. Your breathing began to turn ragged and strained slowly. With a slight blue tinge to your lips Technoblade knew something was horribly wrong.

   "What did you put in her drink." At his his tone was nothing but sharp and demanding. Harshly taking your glass to smell it. With nothing sticking out to the hybrids senses, he set the glass down.

   Well Leon's laughs died down, he no longer found amusement at Techno's cruel tone. Techno took Tommy off your lap, taking your hand in his. The clammy feeling of your hands and your rapid heart rate was enough to tell him the problem.

   Your body was going into shock.

   When you came around the sun was already up. You were in your own bed well Tommy was curled up beside you, peacefully asleep with his teddy bear in arms. You let your head roll as your eyes scanned the room, falling to Technoblade in the end. His back was to you well he faced out the window, you could tell he was deep in thought. He was no longer in his formal attire. Instead he was in casual wear, his hair was in a messy bun, showing whatever he was doing demanded his full attention.

"Te..chno?.." your voice was ragged but he clearly herd it, turning to face you his eyes softened fast.

   "(y/n)..." he quickly walked over and sat beside you on the bed. His hand moved your hair back before he placed a soft kiss to your forehead, happy to see you awake once more. "How do you feel?" His eyes were worried, but gentle.

   "I... think ok?" You asked uncertain. Your body felt tired, but also well rested. You were looking up at him, your eyes dancing between his for how he felt.

   "Do you remember what happened?" His tone was soft and gentle. Rather if that was because of Tommy asleep by you, or because you had gave him a scare, you wouldn't know.

   "I remember... a man, Tommy, and you... then my throat felt weird..." he nodded slowly and cupped your cheek gently.

   "You had a Reaction to your drink... Did you know you are allergic to Blaze powder?..." you nodded slowly. When you lived within your village, your mother found out about the allergy when she gave you a strength potion. Well she intended it to be helpful, instead it was harmful. He tossed a few thoughts around within his head before nodding. "That drink you had with Leon yesterday had Blaze Powder... Your body went into shock love..."

   You thought back about last night and realized. the pearlescent. Then it hit you. The wedding. Your heart sank slowly, you still had wanted a dance with Techno before the night ended. "Wha... I... I'm sorry..." You said slowly, trying to sit up. He shook his head and rested his forehead on yours, easing you back down.

   "You have nothing to be sorry for... Were just reassured your ok..." you nodded, with a little lingering silence you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. He didn't hesitate to wrap his own arms around you. Keeping you close to his body.

   "We didn't even get to dance together..." your voice was soft and saddened, almost like a child that was scolded. You slowly buried your head into his neck for comfort

   "Is that what you wanted?..." you nodded slowly. Taking in his lingering cologne from the night before. He slowly pulled away and moved you. Scooping you up into his arm like you were a bride. You were unsure at first, but wrapped your arms around his neck. Your head resting on his chest. With a slow rocking motion he started to sway with you in his arms. Although you couldn't have a dance with him at the wedding, you actually preferred this. You felt safe and at ease within his arms. "You know I love you..." his voice was soft. Loving. He meant what he was saying.

   "I love you too Techno... With all of my heart..." as if those few words meant the world, techno shed a silent tear. You gave him a serious scare last night. He was glad you couldn't remember past your throat hurting either. He knew the things he said to Leon would have stuck with you a bit. Resting his head on yours, he swore from this day on, he would never let something like that happen again.

   It didn't take long for Sarah and Leon to come back around to the forge. Sarah came first of course. Techno had advised you keep easy on yourself for the day, so that's what you planned. Well you were at your work bench tending to the jewels of Phil's sword, she had wondered in. Mostly she was just worried about your health and whether you were ok. Curiously she inquired if your throat was doing better, and what had caused the reaction. The last she saw of you was when you were in techno's arms, being carried out well you struggled to breathe. Of course you reassured her that you were now fine and just taking the day easy. with a hesitant nod she parted from the forge, seeking her men out for a final training before the Honeymoon.

   When Leon came in that was a different story, unlike the night before he was quiet. His sharp features were now accompanied by a bruise on his cheek. You couldn't recall if he had that yesterday, so you quietly pushed the thought aside. With him in the room it was awkward, although he did try and strike a conversation.

   “Is your throat doing better?” You hummed, nodding. keeping to yourself to your bench, not wanting to be any closer to him then you had to be. You chewed your lip. your eyes glancing to his cheek. His eyes much have picked up on it because he had another remark to fallow. “You best watch yourself around that Blood God, girl.” You furrowed your brow at his words. You herd him mention that name last night when he was talking about Techno, but you paid it no mind.

   “Blood God?” you asked quietly, almost uncertain.

   “Yeah your Lover boy or whatever.” He said scornfully. Technoblade a ‘Blood God’? Whatever he was talking about didn't make sense. Leon must have knew because he have a rouged chuckle. “Ask him about that name. Ask him why his sword hangs heavy with Blood. Just wait. You think he’s all sunshine and shit now- But you wait girl, you wait until you piss him off, and he’s two steps away from snapping your neck-” his little rant didn't last long as he was cut off. Technoblade who towered at the door, stood tall and proud as his face was locked into disgust. His voice dripping with venom for the man.

   “I hope your not talking about me, Schmidt.” 

@justthatfangirloverthere @itscaity-c @goldensunshineshit @snobunns @olyink @lolitsellieletsgobro @jackalopedoodles @angelic-scent @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @artsimatsu @justabalroginthenet @seme1e @fangirl570 @sweeetteaa @awlawdtheycoming @idkwhatusernametohave @sugarandspicebutnonice @bambibunz @lynn-draws-blog @buzzybeebee @feathersthewinged @prefesro @astroninaaa @ravennightingaleandavatempus @lifestylesleep @straydog265 @happygalaxymilkshake @vixenfoxpup @truthdaze @alovestruck-fool @luluwinchester @thegeekisheere @ivurie-xo @chxrrymilkshake

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Blind Spot

Spencer Reid x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2640

Warnings: Hair pulling kink! Bucketloads of sexual tension but no actual sex. Gratuitous facts about bird nests. Dorks being oblivious. Lots of fluffy heart-eyed banter. Accusations of intercourse with fictional tree-beasts. 

A/N: I saw a gif that made me want to pull Spencer’s hair. That’s it. I have zero shame. 

For the “friends to lovers” square on my @cmbingo​ card! Proofread by @fangirlxwritesx67​ because she’s the best. 

“You look like you fucked an Ent,” you commented cheerfully, stealing sideways glances at Spencer while you waited for the light to change.  

“Thanks, that’s helpful.” He grimaced, trying to tug another burr out of a snarled curl. 

“Oh my god, you’re just making it worse! I’ll help you when we get back to your place. Leave it, you goober.” 

“Did you just call me a goober?” Spencer asked, trying not to laugh. 

“You’re like the dictionary definition of a goober,” you said fondly. 

“I have three PhDs!”  

“I really wish I’d gotten a video of that tumble, Doctor Goober.” 

Spencer was blushing, grinning down at his lap as he shredded a piece of leaf. It was hard not to stare at him when he smiled like that. 

He’d essentially face-planted into a burr bush earlier, somewhere in the Virginia woods — he’d been so excited about explaining some wonky bit of Star Trek physics theory to you that he just forgot to pay attention to his feet — and he’d floundered out with half a hedge stuck in his hair before picking up exactly where he’d left off. 

In other words, Doctor Spencer Reid was a ridiculous human being. You knew that, objectively. It didn’t stop you from having a massive crush on him. 

Either he was pretending not to notice, to spare your feelings, or he was socially oblivious; you tended to believe the former, considering how well you’d seen him read other people, but you appreciated it. There was a chance you’d make it out of this — if you could just get over it already — with your friendship intact. 

You cleared your throat and told him, “You look like the bastard child of Grandmother Willow and the Wizard of Oz scarecrow.” 

“Even if they were real, the anatomical —” 

“You didn’t mention that when I brought up the Ents. Something you want to tell me about you and Treebeard?” 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffed, trying to sound exasperated, but he could barely keep a straight face for a second before he was laughing, that scratchy sunny childish giggle that only came out when he was really relaxed and carefree. 

“Close the window before a bird sees you and decides to take up residence.” 

“How about you watch the road?”

“What, no facts about bird nests?” 

“Is that a rhetorical question?” 

“Nope.” 

“Well in that case… gyrfalcon nests are frequently re-used and passed along for generations. The oldest one that’s been discovered was in Greenland, and it was actually estimated to be approximately 2,500 years old.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes! In fact…” 

You had to remind yourself, yet again, to stop staring. 

Maybe someday you’d get sick of hearing Spencer talk, but you couldn’t really understand the way most of your teammates reacted to his rambling. Even if you didn’t care about what he was saying, there was something amazing about the way his eyes lit up and his hands fluttered around to illustrate his point.

You parked in front of his building and followed him upstairs. His apartment had become comfortingly familiar — ever since you and Spencer bonded over a shared love of sci-fi, you’d taken to driving him home and, if it wasn’t too late, sticking around for an episode or two of Doctor Who.  

He got his ancient little DVD player up and running, and you settled on the couch, fluffing pillows and shoving aside his nest of colorful crocheted blankets, getting cozy. There was something about Spencer’s space that always felt like home; maybe it was the smell of books, or just the general Spencer-ness of the whole place. 

Just being around him had always kinda felt like home, too. Sometimes you forgot you’d only known him for six months. 

He disappeared into his room for a second and came back with a comb. It was cheap plastic, missing a couple teeth, and looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. You looked from him to the comb and back again. 

“That actually explains a lot,” you said, grinning. Spencer rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of you, leaning back against your shins, and after a dismayed glance at his curls, you commented, “We could always just shave it all off.” 

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” he said primly. 

You started with a couple of the less tangled pieces, finger-combing carefully through one soft lock at a time. You half-expected some comment about primates and social grooming, or at least a few facts about the quantum theory behind the TARDIS, but Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the TV. 

You separated out one of the worst knots, and he tilted his head to the side to give you better access. You were being as gentle as possible, but you knew you were hurting him at the first tug — he sucked in a breath, knuckles going white as his fingers clenched on his knees. 

“Sorry, I’m trying,” you sighed. 

With his head tilted like this, you could see the muscle clenching in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. 

“S’okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s not — not your fault.” 

He sat there stiffly as you worked. His hair was silky, where it wasn’t hopelessly knotted, and you were close enough that you could smell whatever clean, sweet shampoo he used. Something about it made you want to hold your breath; it felt like you were too close. Spencer rarely let you inside his little bubble of personal space. 

Maybe that was why he seemed uncomfortable. He was usually so fidgety, tapping out a rhythm or twirling a pen between his long fingers, and it was strange to see him motionless like this. 

You ran your fingers through a de-tangled section, slow and careful, and Spencer shivered, his shoulders trembling for a moment before he went unnaturally still again. 

Spencer blurted out, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

At the same time, you asked, “Are you cold?” 

You paused for a moment, surprised by the reaction, but after hesitating, Spencer just muttered, “Yeah. Cold.” 

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. It was too warm, if anything; Spencer had a patchy flush crawling up his neck and over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. 

“Here you go, goober,” you said, awkwardly cheerful in an attempt to cover your uncertainty as you grabbed an afghan from the couch and draped it around his shoulders. 

“Thanks.” He pulled the blanket down onto his lap without looking at you. “But maybe I should just do this myself.” 

“You’re never gonna get this loose on your own, not without scissors,” you warned, plucking at the knot around the last burr in his hair. “I’ll just, um — I’ll try to be more gentle.” 

“Maybe just go for it,” he said. “Get it over with.” His voice had gone all high-pitched and strained, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. If this was how much he disliked physical contact, no wonder he always avoided hugging you. 

You tried to go quickly, figuring that one quick moment of pain was better than another ten minutes of making Spencer uncomfortable. In your nervousness, you ended up tugging the burr out much more abruptly than you’d intended, and Spencer let out this rough, low, choked-off sound. Before you could apologize, he was jerking away from you, curled in on himself with his shoulders up around his ears like he was worried you were going to hit him, and — 

“Sorry,” he said, voice cracking. 

— what? 

“Spence?” you said tentatively. “What—”

He was still just curled up on the floor in a ball of gangly limbs, but he half-turned to you, twisting around. He wouldn’t make eye contact, though; he was staring intently at the pillow that was on the couch next to you. It felt weird, looking down at him like this, so you slid down onto the floor, hoping it wouldn’t spook him. He shifted back slightly, but at least he didn’t flinch away. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t — this was a bad idea.” 

The profiler in you couldn’t help but notice a few details. He was blushing, for starters. His lower lip was red where he’d been biting it, and — this was the part that surprised you most — his pupils were huge. 

You knew what Spencer looked like when he was panicking, and this wasn’t it. 

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh.” 

He looked down at his lap, frowning as he played with the loose thread in the cuff of his sweater. 

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know you don’t feel the same way, I wasn’t trying to — I didn’t realize it would be like that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and—”

“Wait, what?” 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I shouldn’t have asked—”

“I don’t feel the same way about what?” 

“I know you’re not attracted to me,” Spencer said, barely audible. 

“You’re… you…what?” 

He looked up, at that, genuinely startled. There was something sweet and vulnerable shining in his eyes, and your heart was racing. You slid a little bit closer, so that your knees were almost touching Spencer’s as you faced each other, cross-legged. 

“I thought you knew.” His hushed, croaky voice broke on the last word. “I thought I was being obvious.” 

You gaped at him for a second before letting out a sharp, hysterical giggle. 

He ducked his head again, hiding behind a curtain of hair, but not before you saw the hurt expression that flashed across his features. 

“No, that’s not—” you blurted out. “Spence. Spencer.” 

“Forget it,” he said sharply, his body going tense like he was about to bolt. “Can we just forget this happened?” 

Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pushed a few curls back behind his ear, and then you grabbed, twisting your fingers in his hair to tug him forward. You cut off the startled noise he made with a clumsy, eager kiss. 

The angle was all wrong, both of you leaning forward awkwardly, but it felt like sparks all down your spine.

You pulled away just far enough to get the words out: “I thought I was being obvious.”  

Then Spencer was surging closer on his hands and knees, crowding into your space, until you had a lapful of rumpled doctor pressing you back against the couch. He cupped your jaw with gentle spidery fingers, gaze locked on your mouth, and leaned in slowly like he was still waiting for you to push him away. 

There was nothing awkward about it this time. If the first kiss was sparks, this was fireworks — it was such a goddamn cliche you wanted to kick yourself for thinking it, but it was true. Your head was spinning. Every pillowy press of his lips and soft slide of his tongue seemed to steal the breath from your lungs. 

By the time you broke apart you were panting, but at least you weren’t the only one. Spencer’s chest heaved as he pulled away. He was still staring at your mouth like he couldn’t help himself. Part of you wanted to kiss him again and maybe never stop, but another part of you was paralyzed, trying to process the fact that this was actually happening. 

You just wanted to put the world on pause so that you could memorize everything: the way he licked his lips, the smell of his laundry detergent, the barely-perceptible movement of his pulse — you’d never seen that before because you’d never been this close to him before. You wanted to hold onto it, even the less-than-perfect details — the soundtrack of buzzy Dalek screeching in the background — the way you were folded together on the floor, all too-long legs and bony elbows, which was going to get uncomfortable fast.  

Spencer seemed to feel the same way. He grazed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, then followed the curve of your smile out to your temple and traced the shell of your ear with careful fingertips. When he brushed his curled-up fingers along the ridge of your cheekbone, you turned your head and kissed his knuckles.  

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding it in place, feeling the blood and bones shifting under the skin.  

“You really didn’t know?” you whispered. 

He shook his head shyly and gave you one of those incandescent smiles that always made your heart race. “No idea.” 

“I thought you were just ignoring it to spare my feelings,” you confessed. 

“I thought you were doing that.”  

“I thought you were good at your job!” you laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” 

“I think I have a blind spot, where you’re concerned.” He was blushing again. “But I was so distracted by you that I walked into a bush! How did you not —” 

“I’m the one who stares at you all the time like a creep.” 

“You thought you were being creepy?” he said sheepishly. “As soon as you started touching my hair — oh my god that’s embarrassing.” 

“That’s not the word I would’ve used.” 

You tangled your fingers in his curls, tugging experimentally. His breath hitched. 

Both of you were utterly still for a moment, watching each other, and the tension between you seemed to fill the air like a living thing. You were excruciatingly aware of all the places your bodies were touching.

You considered all the places you could touch. It would be so easy. You could tug him in, kiss him, melt into each other… there were so many possibilities, suddenly, and there was something incredible about that: the electricity, the excitement, the moment of pure potential in the pause between certainty and action. 

Spencer sighed, long and shaky, and you were so close that you could feel the current of exhaled air. 

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured, with a twitch of a smile. “That doesn’t happen to me often.” 

“So you didn’t know…” 

You scritched your fingernails down his scalp, marveling at the way he shivered and swayed closer like he was hypnotized. He curled his hand around the side of your neck, thumb slowly stroking the hinge of your jaw. 

“I knew I liked it,” he confessed. “But — within a certain context? Not out of nowhere like that. I didn’t think it would be... like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Intense.”  

“Yeah?” 

“But I think maybe it’s just you.” His eyes had gone all glassy and heavy-lidded, and you could barely breathe. “Maybe you drive me crazy no matter where you’re touching me.” 

“I can think of a few ways to test that hypothesis.” 

You caught a glimpse of his grin, but then he pressed his forehead to yours and his features went blurry, too close for you to focus.

“Never really thought I’d be into dirty talk, but if you’re going to start quoting the scientific method…” 

“Funny, most of the time you never shut up,” you said, giddy and overwhelmed. 

The tip of his nose brushed yours. There was maybe an inch of space between your mouths, and you wanted to close that gap so badly it felt like a physical ache. 

“I mean, if you want me to start rattling off statistics—” 

“Spencer.” You fisted both hands in his hair, tugging sharply, and he shuddered. “Take a hint.” 

“Blind spot, remember?” he whispered, lips brushing yours as they shaped the words, feather-light and maddening. 

“You know, for a genius—” you started, but he kissed you, hungry and sweet like he was making up for lost time, until you’d completely forgotten what you were going to say. 

.

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There is now a sexy follow-up here! 

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If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message! 

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 4: Jealousy

Draco had a jealous streak a mile wide. He always had, for as long as he could remember. His jealous streak had given him plenty of things; jealousy was an excellent motivator.

But his jealousy had never felt quite like this.

In the past, he'd been jealous of tangible things: attention, possessions, grades, etc. Lately, though, Draco had found himself becoming jealous over increasingly inexplicable things. Most (all) of those things having to do with Potter. He was jealous of the normal things, too, like people who casually touched him, or the way Weasley could make him laugh, or the attention he bestowed on Granger when she was talking about her latest campaign. In all honesty, there was nothing new about those things.

But one day, while they were in training together, Draco found himself jealous of the rain.

(More below the cut)

Jealous of the rain as he watched Potter tip his head back and spread his arms to accept it. Jealous of the way the rain was allowed to touch his skin, of the way Potter opened himself up to it and allowed himself to relax under its ministrations.

On the day they received their auror uniforms he found himself jealous of the clothes that the other man put on his body. Jealous of the way the trousers hugged his strong thighs, jealous of the way his robes stretched across his broad shoulders. Jealous of the closeness that Draco had never been afforded.

He found himself quite preoccupied one afternoon as they sat filling out paperwork, jealous of the pen that Potter kept sticking in his mouth. He was jealous of the absentminded caress of lips and tongue, of the sharp nip of his teeth.

At night he found himself jealous of not only the people whom Potter could, theoretically, be spending the night with but also of the thought of his pillows and sheets. Jealous of the way that Potter must allow himself to be completely vulnerable to them; glasses removed, face lax as he slept. Something in Draco surged with a fierce longing at imagining seeing Potter with all of his walls torn down.

He found himself jealous of the work they did. Jealous of the way it consumed Potter's attention, of the way that Potter poured everything he had, everything he was, into solving the crimes set before them.

Draco was jealous of the wind. Jealous of the way it tousled Potter's already messy hair, tugging the curls back from his face.

He'd even been jealous of Potter's own hand earlier that day. Jealous of the way Potter had folded his hands, fingers slotting between each other, as they sat across from their perpetrator. He'd ached to feel the incongruity of the tender skin between his fingers and the callouses on his fingertips and palms.

Most of all, though, Draco was jealous of the way that Potter seemed to be happy. Not because he didn't want Potter to be happy; he did want him to be happy, he deserved to be happy. But because Potter seemed to be happy without Draco and Draco wasn't sure that he would ever be happy without knowing the way that Potter tasted, knowing the way he smelled, knowing the way his muscles felt as they shifted under his palms. He didn't know if he could ever be happy without knowing what Potter looked like when his guard was down, or knowing how his voice sounded when he was completely relaxed.

"You're staring again," Weasley said, snapping Draco's attention back from where he'd been watching Potter as he fetched a round for the team of aurors who'd just wrapped up a very challenging case.

"I'm not," he protested. It was a lie and they both knew it.

Weasley narrowed his eyes at him, "You could just ask him out, you know."

"Why would I do that?"

He rolled his eyes, "So the rest of us can stop watching you pine after one another. It's distracting."

His heart clenched painfully, the way it always did when someone (usually Weasley, damn him) suggested that perhaps this wasn't as one sided as it felt like it was. Shaking his head, he replied, "He's not interested."

"How would you know?" Weasley asked. "I've been his best mate for almost our entire lives. I think I'd know better than you."

"Well, then maybe he should use a bit of the famous Gryffindor courage and ask me," he said with a haughty sniff as he took a sip of his firewhiskey.

Weasley rolled his eyes and was about to reply when Potter came over, levitating a dozen drinks in his wake.

After setting down the drinks on the table with an impressive display of control, Potter plopped down in the seat between Draco and Weasley. Draco watch jealously as Potter leaned against Weasley, pressing their shoulders together for a long moment as though he was drawing strength from the other man.

The table was loud and rowdy, nearly full of Gryffindors, and Draco wondered (not for the first time) how he'd managed to find himself almost constantly surrounded by their brash, obnoxious selves.

Potter was quiet next to him, as Draco had noticed he often was, listening to the others, laughing and sharing in their joy; quietly supporting and encouraging them to be their most authentic selves.

It always made Draco want to tell them all to shut up. To just be quiet for a minute and let Potter talk, let him be himself, because if he was being honest he wanted to know everything about Potter. He wanted to know what made him tick, what brought him joy, what made him weep, what made him laugh. He wanted to know why he chose to be an auror when he could have done anything. He wanted to know his favorite song, his favorite book, his favorite meal. He wanted to know everything.

When the desire to grasp Potter by the hand and make him tell him everything became too strong, Draco stood up (rather abruptly) and made his way out of the bar, muttering "cigarette" to the table as an excuse.

Outside, he leaned against the wall and lit up his cigarette, exhaling shakily as it caught. The warm summer breeze did him good, helped to settle his racing mind. He took a long, slow drag and held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, relishing the way it burned a bit and the way his slow inhale helped him to calm further.

Fuck Potter, fuck this, he thought sullenly. This was all getting out of hand, it was too much, even for him.

"Terrible habit."

Draco's head snapped around to see Potter leaning his shoulder against the wall a few feet from Draco, watching him intently. "You should get louder shoes," Draco commented, blowing a stream of smoke from his lips, "or a bell," he added, picturing the kind you tie around a cat's neck.

Potter laughed, free and unfettered, and Draco basked in it like sunlight. "Can I join you?" Potter asked.

Draco forced himself to take another drag of his cigarette before answering, it wouldn't do to sound too eager. "I suppose," he finally said.

"Can I bum a cigarette off you?" Potter asked next.

His eyebrows rose, "You smoke?"

The other man smiled, the soft, secret one that exposed his dimples. "Occasionally. When the company is right."

Draco handed him a cigarette but he couldn't even fully appreciate the comment when the company is right because Potter leaned in close to light his off of the tip of Draco's. He hardly dared to move, he tried not to inhale deeply enough to be noticed, but he could smell the other man. He could smell his cologne; earthy and woody, he could smell Potter's shampoo; faintly like apples, and the hint of something underneath that he couldn't quite place but made his mouth water just the same.

After a moment, Potter drew back and Draco watched as he inhaled the smoke and held it in his lungs for a moment. He had so many questions, so many things he was dying to know, instead he said, "You're always quiet."

"Sorry?" Potter asked, turning his head to look at Draco as he rested his back against the wall.

"Your friends-"

"They're your friends, too," Potter interrupted.

And oh, he was trying to be kind, trying to tell Draco that they counted him as one of them, his heart fluttered uselessly. "Fine, our friends," he conceded, "They're always so loud. And you listen to them, you know everything about them. You've kept every detail stored away in that funny little brain of yours."

"I wouldn't say every detail," Potter protested before putting his cigarette between his lips once more. It shouldn't be attractive, Draco thought to himself.

"But you're always quiet," Draco pushed. "You listen to everyone, know things about everyone, but you never talk about yourself."

Potter looked away, staring up at a lamp post for a long moment. He took another drag of his cigarette and Draco thought for a moment that he wasn't going to answer. "Who really wants to listen to me?" he murmured on an exhale.

I do! Draco wanted to scream. Instead he huffed, "Everyone does."

Potter's lips tipped up in what was supposed to be an approximation of a grin but there was no joy in it, "No they don't. They'd want to listen if I wanted to tell them about a date I'd gone on, or if I had a family to talk about, or if I'd just gotten a new crup, or if I'd done something good or brave, if I'd updated my kitchen, or taken up painting." He brought his cigarette to his mouth once more and didn't look back at Draco.

Draco waited. He was good at this, good at waiting for people to talk. Silence didn't bother him. It made him a very good interrogator.

After a moment, Potter continued, "No one wants to hear about how I can't always sleep at night. No one wants to hear about the memories, and the flashbacks, and the nightmares. No one wants to listen to me talk about all of the ways that everything that happened in the war feels meaningless when we're just dealing with the same bullshit day in and day out at the ministry. No one wants to hear me talk about how when I look at Teddy all I can think about is how he looks just like Tonks and has a mischievous streak as wide as Remus'. Everyone's moved on," he said. "Everyone has gotten on with their lives and no one wants to hear about how I am just..." he trailed off searching for a word, "trapped. In my grief, in all of the ways that I failed. No one wants to know that it feels like I'll never be able to atone for all of the hurt, for all of the death and suffering-" he broke off, his voice choked, and Draco watched as a tear tracked silently down his cheek.

"I do," Draco whispered because he had to. Because Harry had been brave and vulnerable, and Draco owed him this much. "I do," he repeated.

Harry looked over at him, and his forest green eyes laid Draco bare. "Why?"

He lifted one shoulder, "because," he paused and swallowed, "because you're not alone in feeling so many of those things," he started. "Because you deserve to feel heard, to feel seen, to feel known. Because what you have to say matters."

"To who?"

And Draco recognized this question for what it was. He understood that Harry was not really asking who but why. He was asking if what he had to say mattered because he was "the Savior" or "the Chosen One" or did what he had to say matter because he was Harry, just Harry.

"To me," Draco said finally, knowing it was tipping his hand. "What you have to say matters to me. I want to know you, Potter. Harry."

Harry was quiet for a long moment, looking at Draco, searching him and Draco very much hoped he would find whatever he was looking for.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry said, "I want to know you, too, Draco."

Draco couldn't have stopped the grin that spread across his face if he'd tried, and he did try, so he settled for looking down at the ground to hide it.

"I like your smile," Harry said softly.

"Oh?" Draco replied.

Harry nodded, "I like a lot of things about you," he said, soft like a confession.

"I like a lot of things about you, too," Draco admitted.

"Would you maybe want to go and get some coffee?" Harry asked. "Or go somewhere quieter than here so we could talk?"

"I would like that very much," Draco replied. "There's a little muggle coffee shop a few blocks from my flat that stays open until 3:00am?" he offered.

Harry dropped the stub of his cigarette on the pavement and ground it out with his boot, "Lead the way," he said, gesturing to the sidewalk.

Draco nodded once, his stomach tumbling and bubbling like a cauldron set too hot, and he set off toward his flat.

He'd only taken a few steps when he felt Harry's fingers slide through his.

"Alright?" Harry asked softly.

Draco squeezed his fingers, "Better than," he replied, giving Harry a little smile. Grinning because he supposed, with Harry's hand in his, he had one less irrational thing to feel jealous of.

Day 3: Agility | Day 5:Possessiveness