#so here is a random scribble that I did a couple weeks ago but still like

[timeworncalamity]

HAPPY PRIDE 2023

[whoistartaglia]

university au.

part two. part three.

includes: albedo and itto.

warnings: gender neutral reader, slight mentions of alcohol and drinking, unedited, fluff.

notes: this is me romanticizing university before i have to go in the fall.

albedo.

he sat down next to you on the first day of class.

it was his unofficial assigned seat.

you watched as he took notes and worked on problems with ease.

you were impressed with his intelligence.

albedo was impressed you hadn't dropped the class yet.

you were behind all the time.

one class you asked albedo to copy his notes.

only to be overwhelmed with all his precise calculations .

you didn't copy anything down and promptly handed back the notebook.

albedo didn't question it.

he wanted to help you but decided against it.

it would only make you more stressed out.

by the end of the semester, all you had was your notebook filled with random formulas and unorganized theories.

this calculus final was going to end you.

you had entered the library after dinner, and five hours later at midnight, you were still as lost as you were before. your notes laid strewn across the table next to papers filled with scribbled calculations and crossed out wrong answers. in front of you was a packet of practice problems, none of which you had gotten right on the first try. absolutely none. 

with little hope, you checked your second attempt at an answer with your calculator and almost groaned out loud when they didn’t match. this problem alone had taken you nearly ten minutes already, and was from the first unit. 

which you had learned months ago. 

you sighed and just stared down at your paper. the numbers and symbols swirled together on the page. nothing was making sense. there was no way you were going to pass this class. you would have to retake it next semester. and then you might not graduate on time and you would have to take out more loans and—

“[you]?” you looked up at the sound of your name. 

“oh, hi albedo,” you said. you sat up straight in your chair and did your best to appear anything but the hot mess you currently were. “what’s up?”

“nothing much,” he said with a shrug. “what’s up with you? studying for our calculus final i see.”

you nodded and faked a confident smile. “yeah. it’s going great. i’m doing well.” 

you could tell albedo didn’t believe you at all. actually, you thought he looked kind of confused. as if he couldn’t fathom why you were lying about something so very obviously false. he had seen your slumped figure with your head in your hand and pencil not moving in the other. 

“is it really going well, [you]?” albedo asked. he sounded genuinely concerned, which was why you dropped your stiff shoulders with a sigh and shook your head in defeat.

“i just,” you gestured to all the scattered papers and crossed out formulas and wrong answers in front of you. “i don’t understand.”

albedo stilled and hesitantly asked, “do you want some help?”

you went to shake your head, and stopped. there was no use in saving your pride and declining what could be a grade-saving offer. but a part of you was also worried that albedo would be leaving thinking you were an absolute failure, which was how you felt.

"yes but you might be here all night" you warned.

with another shrug, albedo sat down next to you, and took the pen out of your hands. "i don't mind. not if i'm here all night with you."

a quiet thank you stumbled out of your mouth.

"it'll be fine, [you]," he said. already he was looking at your notes and deciding what to start with first.

you gave him a nervous smile. you appreciated his help as he slowly began to explain the math to you. but you also silently cursed him, because now your mind was filled with him instead of the problems in front of you.

itto.

your university was one of the largest party schools in the state.

you had only been to one party.

and decided they just weren't your thing.

that had been well over a couple weeks ago.

instead, you spent time in your dorm.

watching movies or playing video games or simply just sleeping.

but unlike you, itto attended nearly every party he could.

he liked the high energy and fun atmosphere.

that and he hoped to see you again.

you had no classes together and that was the first, and only, time he ever saw you.

he thought you looked cute, even if a bit out of place.

but since that night, you hadn't shown up at any more parties.

and itto didn't know how or where to find you again.

there weren't many students not at some party on a friday night. but there were at least a couple of them, one of them being you.

instead, you were at your campus dining hall. it was almost midnight and you were wearing nothing but your pajamas and a zip up thrown over it. you were about to go to sleep before you decided your hunger was too great to ignore until breakfast.

so there you sat, alone at a small table in the corner of the dining hall, having dinner at near midnight. a few other students ate by themselves around you. in the middle was a larger group of students, no doubt filling up before heading to whichever party they deemed the biggest on campus.

you glanced over at them, and instantly looked away with you accidently locked eyes with itto.

you didn't know itto personally, but he was pretty popular on campus. when people talked about the parties over the weekend, his name was always brought up at least once. you had even heard that he got one of the deans to attend and play beer pong with him.

you weren't quite sure you believed that particular rumor.

"come on, let's go," you heard someone whine. "we're gonna be late."

"we already are," itto responded. the entire group laughed as they got up and headed towards the door. except for him. you watched as he remained leaning against the table, arms crossed over his chest.

"i'll meet you guys there," you heard itto say. "i'm just going to get someone else to eat." a few protests at that, but eventually the group left him behind, telling him not to be too late or he'll miss out.

when they were all gone, itto swiftly made his way over to your table. he pulled out a chair and sat down before you could protest.

"i'm itto," he said as an introduction.

you were confused and a little taken aback. the only thing you could think to say was, "i know."

he laughed at that. after a moment of silence, you said quickly, "oh, sorry. i'm [you]." you felt a little foolish, but itto didn't look bothered at all.

"say, are you heading to the party across campus? i'll walk you there."

"no, that's okay," you said, finishing your meal. you were still slightly bewildered at the turn of events. you had excepted to have a quiet meal alone. not whatever this was. you got up and made your way to the dish return. itto jogged after you.

"please, let me. it's too late for someone to be walking in the dark all alone," itto begged.

"i'm not going to the party," you said. you both returned to your table and you grabbed your backpack. when you looked back up at him, you were slightly concerned at how crestfallen his face was.

"you could walk me back to my dorm, if you want," you added quickly. "oh, but it's in the opposite direction. it's okay actually."

"no. i mean yes. i mean, i don't even think i'm going to that party now anyways." you raised your eyebrow but shrugged, allowing him to follow you as you walked to the exit.

you didn't know itto. you weren't sure why he stayed back to talk to you or why he was skipping out on the hottest party of the night just to walk you back to your dorm.

but you were willing to find out.

[thebookreader12345]

Cuts and Bruises

Pairing: Greg Grainger x reader

Summary: After treating the temporary fill in at Firehouse 51 for a minor injury, Y/n gets the feeling that she'll be seeing Greg a lot more often

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: mentions of a fire and minor injuries

Word Count: 1,423 Words

"Hey, Maggie," I greet the charge nurse. "Where are all of these people coming in from?"

"51 just responded to a huge complex fire," Maggie responded. "It's mostly minor burns, cuts, and a few bruises. Just take a patient chart, fix them up, and send them on their way. I want this ED cleared by 3."

"Got it," I say. "Thank you." So, I picked a patient at random and started doing whatever I could to help. After I had treated a few people, I went to the waiting room to grab the next person in line, but just before I could, Sylvie walked in with a firefighter at her side. “Hey, Sylvie. What’s up?”

“Grainger has a cut on his upper arm, and he insists that he’s fine, but it’s pretty deep. I think it might need stitches,” Sylvie put in.

“I’m fine. Seriously,” the firefighter insisted. “It’s just a scratch.”

“I’ll have Y/n be the judge of that,” Sylvie spoke. “Can you check over him? Please?”

“Of course,” I answer. “Follow me.” I led Grainger to the nearest empty bed and had him sit down while I pulled on some gloves. "So, Grainger-"

"It's Greg," Grainger interrupted. "Greg Grainger."

"Y/n L/n," I return, "So, Greg, are you new to 51? I don't think I've ever seen you around before."

"I'm just a temporary fill in as Engine 51's Lieutenant while Herrmann is on vacation," Greg told me. "And I work at Firehouse 40. All of the people we help on calls go to Lakeshore."

"Then it makes sense why we've never met. There's no opportunity for us to cross paths," I claim. "Now, lets see that arm. If you could ditch your coat, that'd be great." Greg took off his coat and laid it down behind him, but the wound was so far up his arm, his sleeve was covering it. "I uh, I'm gonna need you to take your shirt off too."

Greg didn't even flinch and pulled the shirt over his head, setting it down on top of his other gear. My cheeks heated up at the sight of Greg's toned chest and abs, and so I put all of my focus on the cut on his shoulder.

"So? What do you think?" Greg implored.

"W-what?" I stammer out, my face flushing even more.

"Of the cut," Greg stated. "What do you think? Does it need stitches?"

"Right," I murmur. "Yeah, I'd say so. But just a few. I can get you out of here in 10 minutes. Just sit tight." I was true to my word. 10 minutes later, I had finished up the last stitch on Greg's arm and was just putting a bandage over it.

"Thank you for this," Greg said and hopped off the bed, grabbing his gear from behind him.

"It was no problem," I assure him as he began putting his shirt back on. "Now, I don't know if you've had stitches before, but you've got to keep that wound dry for the first 24 hours, and also try not to overuse that arm. We don't want your stitches to rip."

"Got it," Greg confirmed. "Thanks again, Y/n."

"Like I said before, it was no problem," I repeat. "I uh, I hope I get to see you sometime in the future."

Greg smiled. "I have no doubts that you will. Bye, Y/n."

"Bye, Greg," I wave after him as he left the ED. Throwing off my gloves, I exited the treatment room to get to the nurses station, and I just so happened to bump into Will.

"Who was that?" Will asked and followed Greg out of the door with his eyes.

"A temporary Lieutenant for Firehouse 51," I reply and type away at the computer in front of me.

"Mmm," Will hummed. "You've got the hots for him, don't you?"

"What? Will, I just met him 15 minutes ago," I try and reason.

"But you do find him attractive," Will pointed out. "I can see it on your face."

"You cannot," I retort.

"So it is true? You find him hot. You know, I could see you and him being a cute couple," Will confessed.

"All right, I'm done here. Unlike you, I've got patients to work on," I attest to.

"This isn't over!" Will called out playfully as I walked away.

"Yeah it is!" I shout back.

..........................................

It had been one week since I met Greg Grainger for the first time. And whenever I wasn't busy with work or my social life, my mind wandered to him. Seeing him shirtless on our first encounter, the sincerity in his voice whenever he talked, the smile he sent my way when he left the ED....lets just say he impacted me in a way I never new someone could after spending just 15 minutes together.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Maggie questioned as she joined me by the nurses' station.

"Nothing important," I lie. "Just about what I want for dinner after shift."

"Uh-huh," Maggie muttered. "You're thinking about Grainger, aren't you?"

"Ugh," I groan. "Not you too. Did Will put you up to this?"

"He may have mentioned something," Maggie revealed.

"Oh my...." I trailed off. "I've only met the man once!"

"Twice," Maggie corrected me.

I frowned. "What?"

"He's standing out in the lobby," Maggie informed me. I turned around, and when I looked towards the lobby, I saw that Greg was indeed standing out there. For a second, our eyes met, and then he started walking towards me. To keep Maggie out of my business, I took a couple dozen steps forwards to meet up with him.

"Hey, Greg. What are you doing here?" I quiz. "Don't tell me your stitches ripped."

Greg laughed. "Surprisingly, no. They are still in place. I uh, I actually came to see you."

"You're still in your gear," I notice. "Did you come over here in the middle of your shift?"

"Yes," Greg responded. "But that's not the point. I came over here because for the past week, whenever I'm not focused on something, I think about you, which is weird because we only met once and it was for 15 minutes. But everyone at Firehouse 51 has told me what an amazing person you are, and that only pushed me to come here more. I guess what I'm trying to get at is that I'd like to take you out on a date."

"A d-date?" I stutter.

Greg nodded. "Yeah. Unless you're not interested or you're seeing somebody. If that's the case, forget about it."

"No. That's uh, that's not the case at all. I'd love to go on a date with you," I admit.

"Good. Great," Greg clarified, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. "Well then I will contact you later with the details."

"Greg wait," I interject, and reach forward, my hand grasping onto his forearm.

"What's up?" Greg asked. Instead of answering, I took my small memo book out of my pocket, scribbled something down on it, and then ripped the paper away, folding it neatly before stuffing it into his hand. Greg unfolded the piece of paper and stared down at it, his eyes glancing over my handwriting. "Your phone number?"

"Yeah. You need some way to contact me. How else were we supposed to talk about our date? Because as much as I love meeting up here at Med when we're both supposed to be working, the two of us could be fired for that," I joke.

"Right. Thank you," Greg spoke and sent a smile my way. "I'll be in touch soon." As soon as Greg walked off, I smiled to myself and turned around to head back into the ED. By the nurses' station, both Maggie and Will were waiting, desperate to hear the news.

"Well? What happened?" Maggie pushed.

"I just got asked on a date," I say.

"Told ya you liked him," Will exclaimed.

"So, what are you two gonna do? Tell us everything," Maggie requested.

"As much as I would love that, I've got work," I disclose.

"Work? You don't have any patients right now," Will declared.

"What? I'm sorry. I think I hear Dr. Abrams calling for me upstairs," I share and walk towards the elevator.

"Come on!" Maggie whined. "You can't just leave us hanging like that."

"I can, and I think I just did. See you guys later," I chirp and step into the elevator, the doors closing seconds later, leaving Maggie and Will frustrated in the middle of the ED.

__________________________

Tag List:

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[uselesssomebody]

𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤 - steve rogers x reader

complete masterlist | mcu masterlist | steve rogers masterlist

“𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕞𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖

𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕚𝕕” - cinnamon girl | lana del rey

words || 𝟙.𝟡𝕜

summary || in which the reader is worried that they've been stood up - and that steve's just like the others

a/n || the ending for this is a bit rushed/shit so apologies. also i definitely feel like i haven't done these lyrics justice so i feel like i'll probably do another oneshot with this prompt ➵ originally called ‘cinnamon girl’ ➵ hope you enjoy!

warnings || angst/fluff

i inhaled deeply, breathing in the lingering musk of alcohol, mopped floors and varnished wood. at the other end of the bar, two men sat, drinking and laughing as they gripped pitchers filled to the brim with the frothy, amber liquid. they were the only people in the bar, save for a bartender and, obviously, myself.

a large clock hung from above the entrance. the windows let in barely any moonlight, allowing the candles and lamps to provide a dim, golden glow over the building. i rapped my fingernails impatiently across the counter, my eyes remaining fixed on the clock.

he was supposed to be here 20 minutes ago.

the sound of my nails stopped when i felt a hand grasp my own. turning back, i see the young woman working bar smiling softly. still gripping my hand, she placed a small glass with a muddy, brown liquid in it.

“oh, no - i don’t drink-” i attempt to stop her from giving me the glass, but her smile only widens.

“it’s tea, sweetheart.” she has a slight southern accent and, with her reassurance, i shakily take a sip.

“thank you, -” i hesitate.

“kelly, sweetie.”

“thanks, kelly.” the tea feels warm and soothing as it slides easily down my throat.

“everything alright with you? you look…” she trails, not wanting to insult me.

“stressed?”

“something like that.” we both pause for a moment “well, i know whatever ass stood you up ain’t got a lick of good sense.” she huffs, her accent much more prominent as she starts gripping the rag she’s using to clean just a bit tighter. i inhale sharply, hating to hear it be framed like that.

he was supposed to be here.

he’d been consistent for a couple months now, longer than anyone else. he’d gone out of his way to show up every time, to be there. he was the first to convince me to get out of the house in a long time.

a lot of the people i’ve dated have had the unfortunate habit of standing me up. it started with my second boyfriend, fresh into senior year who, after promising me that he’d show up to a particularly well-planned and expensive evening, decided that a random girl from his biology class was a better way to spend his time.

then it was a guy i had been seeing for a couple weeks in college. while i thought we appreciated each other’s company, he obviously had different ideas - as he managed to ruin my day twice. in one night. not only did he not show up to the restaurant we were going to have dinner at, but, after i had made my way back home, also decided to - very unceremoniously - dump me over text.

since then, almost half of the guys i’d been speaking to since had managed to maintain the trend.

after a few very years of disappointing dates and even more disappointing men, i met him. steve rogers. captain america. i had barely known anything about him as a superhero, though - or the rest of his gang, the ‘avengers’. he was just a sweet, genuine and almost annoyingly good-looking guy i met at a coffee shop. it was almost unbelievable when, by the end of our conversation, he had asked for my number. it was even cuter when he scribbled it into a notebook he found after rummaging in his pocket. more of an old soul, i had guessed.

he had made sure to be a true gentleman: holding open doors, insisting to pay for meals, getting me flowers. i felt safe, and comfortable with him. i finally started trusting him.

but here i sit at 8:30, at a bar he told me he’d pick me up from at ‘7:45, sharp’. i sigh, glancing at the clock once more, hoping i was just an idiot and had managed to come at hour early, somehow.

i let out a sigh of defeat when i realized it was not the case. placing my cup down and letting my feet fall to the floor, i get up.

“thank you so much, kelly.” i murmur a thanks to the now smiling woman, as she placed another cup down.

“no problem - sweetie, what’s your name?” i smile, almost shocked i had missed sharing that fact.

“y/n. my name’s y/n.”

“alright, hope you have a nice night, y/n.” i nod as i grab my coat.

i think i honestly preferred ‘sweetie’.

i had managed to make it home in about 10 minutes, hailing a cab that wasn’t too opposed to going over the speed limit. it was a stuffy ride, causing me to almost gulp at the air that hit me when i opened the door. quickly handing the driver some cash, i fumbled with the code of my apartment building and waited patiently for the elevator.

the small side purse i had been carrying slumped to its side after i let go of it after entering my apartment, hastily peeling off my clothes and changing into something more comfortable. after falling lightly onto my couch, i stuffed a wedged a pillow in between the cushioned arm rest and my head. my hands itched for the remote, my mind begging for a distraction.

i had managed to finish 2 whole episodes of my favorite comedy, feeling my spirits lifted as i watched the goofy characters on screen.

my head perked up when i heard something at the door. i glanced at the clock on my wall: 9:30. i couldn’t imagine who would need me this late, so i shrugged it off, ready to resume my show.

then it came, much more clearly. 3 precise and short knocks. i hum, my mind going straight to the new neighbors that had settled in across the hall. they had a young child, who had caused a couple complaints by ding-dong ditching. the thought of them doing it this late made me slightly confused, but also convinced me to double check. throwing my legs off the side of the couch, i push myself up, smoothing out the shirt i was wearing that had managed to crawl up my torso. i quickly run my fingers through my hair, hoping i looked at least a little presentable.

i shuffled quickly to the entrance, my hand lightly gripping the handle and swinging the door open.

i find myself at eye-line with someone’s chest. ‘definitely not the neighbor’s kid’, i remember thinking. i look up and am greeted by steve rogers - a look of almost exaggerated sheepishness plastered on his face. i let out a breath - probably out of shock, as he rubs his hands together. we stand in silence for a moment.

“hey.” he breathes the word out, causing me to finally tear my gaze, allowing it to instead rest back on his chest.

“hello.” it was curt. almost dismissive. i felt i had the right to be dismissive.

“look, i’m so sorry. give me a chance to explain myself?” he must have noticed, as his voice is coated in the buttery tone that apologies usually have. his hand sticks out, gesturing to the inside of the building. i sigh, sidestepping so that i’m behind the door, allowing him entrance.

“sure.” i mutter, closing the door behind him as he enters.

he’d been here before - only a couple times. but this was the first time he looked out of place, almost uncomfortable. he stood awkwardly, hands stuffed in his pockets, as he glanced at the couch. i decide to tidy up slightly as, i assumed, he gathered his thoughts.

“i thought i’d find you here. i tried the bar but-”

“you realized that it had already been over an hour since you were supposed to pick me up.” once again, curt. i don’t even look at him, busying myself with adjusting the throw pillows.

“yeah… i am really sorry about that, it’s just, y’know, work and…” he trailed off, finally causing a frustrated huff to escape my lips.

“don’t-” i choke for a second, making me fluff the pillow more furiously, “don’t play games with me, rogers. if you’re not interested, just say it so i can go back to my night.” the last sentence slips past gritted teeth - an annoying habit that always returned to me when i was angry.

i feel him come up behind me, his body towering over mine. he radiated heat, which was almost shocking considering the cold of the night outside. he gently took the pillow out of my hand. it gave way easily, which was funny considering how hard i’d been gripping it.

he tossed it to the side, allowing it to fall onto the couch. using his free hand, he gently turned me so i’d be facing him. i avoid looking at him, finding myself becoming all too familiar, once again, with the zipper of his leather jacket.

“not interested?” his voice is low, almost a whisper.

“i won’t be mad at you,” my voice, however, was a whisper, “just tell me. i don’t want to have to worry -” i retract, rethinking the verb, “think about it.” my eyes shut slowly, my shoulders slumping in dejection.

a moment passes. i feel his fingertips harsher against my flesh - yet the squeeze was gentle.

“why? why’d you think that?”

“think what?” i finally look up at him, my voice laced in borderline annoyance. he was dragging it out on purpose, the bastard. i just wanted him to say it and leave, allowing me to wallow.

“think i’m not interested.” i scoff, rolling my eyes behind the lids.

“why wouldn’t you be? i know the type - your type. it feels like heaven for a couple months, and then you get bored,” my teeth grit again, “and then you leave.” he stills, his breath catching in his throat for a moment. he takes my chin in his hand - it being almost the size of my whole face - and moves my head gently, forcing me to look up at him.

“that sounds like a terrible type of person,” his voice is sweet, and i could hear a note of diplomacy behind the softness, “but i promise you i’m not that type. i’d never do something like that.” my eyes flutter slightly, finding it hard to keep his gaze. his hand slides away from my face.

there’s a long pause, and he allows me the time to think of what to say. my mind bubbles. there’d barely ever be apologies - and never ones this heartfelt. promise. the word echoed through my brain, sounding so genuine in his deep voice that i found myself allowing myself to believe him.

“promise?” it’s not intended as asking for clarification - but confirmation.

“promise.” he repeats, smiling lightly. i swallow, feeling my thoughts stagger as i take in the curve of his lips.

“can-” my voice cracks, “can i trust you? more than the others?” his eyes flash with understanding - allowing the final pieces of the puzzle slip together. he took my hands in his, trying his best to bring me comfort.

“i won’t hurt you. i won’t.” he pulls me slightly closer. his mouth is against my ear and i hear him soften his voice, “not like the others.”

[accioxreparo]

entranced | f.w.

synopsis: Fred finds himself taking a different approach to get your attention. Little does he know he already has it. 

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

warnings: none!

a/n: This idea is straight from the discord chat earlier with my babes! This concept is honestly so amazing and completely inspired by @levylovegood​ and also this picture so hopefully I did it justice 😭💖

The Gryffindor table was uncharacteristically silent as Fred Weasley approached late for breakfast. That was typical though. More often than not he was rushing in right before classes started and just as quickly rushing back out.

What was unusual though, and the source of everybody’s shock, was the pair of glasses framing his face. Glasses he didn’t need. Glasses nobody was sure even belonged to him.

“What?” Fred barely acknowledged them as he started putting food on his plate. “What’s with the staring?”

“What’s with -” Ginny let out a heavy sigh as she shared a glance with her siblings, every one of which was just as confused as she was. “What are you wearing those for?”

“Wearing what for?”

“Those obviously!” George reached across the table and flicked the frame of the glasses, skewing them sideways on Fred’s face. He ducked out of the way before he could retaliate. “Didn’t even know you owned any glasses.”

“Well I do,” Fred answered easily. Now that he was looking up he couldn’t help himself. His eyes scanned the Great Hall until he found you hunched over a book and scribbling something on some parchment.

“Well yeah but what for?” Ron frowned through a mouthful of food.

“To see, Ronniekins,” Fred looked away from you quickly when you glanced up abruptly, almost immediately looking right at him. “That’s what most people use them for.”

“Yeah but that’s not what you need them for,” Ron was oblivious to the fact that Fred wasn’t paying him any attention. His gaze had gone back to you the second you went back to your reading. “Think one of us would’ve noticed if you really needed them.”

“Spill it,” Ginny leaned forward while narrowing her eyes. “I can almost guarantee you didn’t own those before last night. Now why do you need them?”

“Need what?”

A groan resounded between the three siblings, each of them coming to the realization that Fred was paying absolutely zero attention to their conversation.

“Okay new question,” George kicked Fred underneath the table, forcing him to look their way again. “What’s got you so -”

But before he could get the question all the way out Fred threw back his goblet of pumpkin juice and practically tripped over himself getting up from the table. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Well that was something.” Ron shook his head, staring at the empty spot his brother had just left.

Ginny nodded towards the entrance of the Great Hall where Fred had stopped, apparently finding one of the suits of armor very interesting. “Look at that.”

“Makes sense now,” George only shook his head as the three of them watched Fred wait a few seconds after you had left the Great Hall to follow you. “McGonagall changed our seats in Transfiguration the other day and since then our dear Freddie’s been infatuated with none other than Y/N Y/L/N. Has a perfect view of her from where he sits now.”

“You’re kidding,” Ron couldn’t help but scoff at the revelation. “She’s top of her class, always in the library. There’s no way she’d even give Fred the time of day.”

“Maybe that’s why he likes her,” Ginny shrugged, going back to her own breakfast. “Or why he’s intrigued at the very least.”

George hummed before a smirk flashed on his face, leaning in towards his younger siblings a little more. “Place your bets, kids. Do we think Fred’s little glasses plan is going to work or not?”

*

You tried your hardest not to stare, you really did.

Of course you’d noticed Fred Weasley of all people hanging around you for the past week or so, who wouldn’t? The fact that he happened to go out of his way a little to talk to you meant absolutely nothing at all though, you’d convinced yourself of that. Especially not when you knew you’d stuttered through practically every conversation you’d had with him so far.

Finally you thought maybe, just maybe, you were getting somewhere. Maybe you could work up the courage to say more than a few words to him next time you spoke. But then you caught sight of the glasses sitting comfortably on the bridge of Fred’s nose. They framed his face perfectly and it really wasn’t fair how they somehow made his eyes shine more than they usually did.

Any kind of coherent thought you were able to form left your brain when you laid eyes on him from across the classroom.

This really wasn’t you. You were smart, you knew that for a fact. Sure you mostly kept to yourself but there wasn’t a single time you hadn’t been able to think of a quick comeback, even if it was only muttered to yourself underneath your breath. That was how all of this had started after all.

He’d overheard a particularly hilarious quip during Potions one day and his burst of laughter had earned him a detention. He had promised you he didn’t mind when you fumbled your way through a quick apology the next day.

Now, though, you were speechless at the mere sight of him because how was it possible for one human to look that good? It didn’t help that you quite literally had the perfect view of him from across the transfiguration room. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him in his glasses before. Had he even worn them before?

Just as you were about to search your memories for any kind of recollection of Fred and his glasses you were interrupted. It was then you realized that you were openly staring at him, and apparently not very subtly.

“Would you like to tell the class what it is you find so interesting, Miss Y/L/N?”

You weren’t sure how long Professor McGonagall had been standing there or what answer she expected of you. Before you could say anything she turned around and took a few steps, effectively blocking your site of the very person you’d been distracted by.

“What about you, Mr. Weasley? You seem to be just as distracted.”

Fred, for once, seemed to also be at a loss for words. He’d barely managed to blink owlishly and start with the beginning of an excuse before he was shushed again. McGonagall looked between the two of you for a moment before pursing her lips. “Detention tonight, both of you.”

Frankly, you were too scared to argue. So instead you turned back towards the very thing that had been the cause of your distraction only to find him already looking at you. You could feel the heat rush to your face when Fred offered you a smile as he pushed the glasses up his face a little and mouthed, this should be fun.

*

Much to your surprise, you were in fact not the first one to reach the transfiguration room at exactly seven o’clock that night. Fred pushed himself off the wall immediately upon seeing you walking his way, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read.

“And here I was thinking you were going to ditch me.”

“I think,” You gulped as you looked anywhere but at him. He was still wearing his glasses and you were positive you’d get distracted again if you looked at him for too long. “I think I’d just get another detention if I did that.”

Fred, on the other hand, was looking right at you with a small smile playing on his lips. This detention was more than worth it in his eyes, especially if it meant getting to spend an hour alone with you. Well almost alone anyway. You were fidgeting a little too much though, something he noticed rather easily. “Is this your first one?”

“First what?”

“Detention.”

You frowned then, stopping your nervous movements and looking up at his towering figure. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know really,” Fred shrugged and couldn’t but smile at the sight of you looking at him curiously, head tipped to the side and arms crossed in front of you. “Maybe it’s just cause you’re always so quiet.” The memory of you cursing at Snape under your breath a couple weeks ago made him laugh suddenly. “You do have a mouth on you, though, don’t you?”

You knew what he was referring to immediately and a flush spread across your face once more. “I’m sorry about that, again”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fred leaned against the wall again and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. “So is it?”

“No,” With a sigh you followed his movements and sat down cross legged next to him. “Though I guarantee my reasons probably aren’t as fun as yours.”

“Try me,” Fred turned then so he was facing you, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. “You first.”

Slowly your nerves started fading away. Your gaze however stayed focused on the wall in front of you. “Fine, One was for ditching History of Magic to read in one of the broom cupboards.”

“Well aren’t you a little rebel.”

“Oh always,” That comment made you laugh. You could hear the grin in his voice and finally worked up the nerve to look at him, trying your hardest to focus on the conversation and not on the way his school robes had been abandoned and the sleeves of his button up shirt rolled up his arms. “Now your turn.”

Talking to Fred came easier than you thought it would. A couple well timed jokes had you relaxing completely and soon enough the two of you were laughing together right there, sitting on the floor in a random hallway.

The reason behind you being there had slipped your mind completely. That is until you noticed Professor McGonagall walking down the hallway. Both of you scrambled up from the floor, simultaneously recalling the fact that you had detention.

“Professor,” You nodded and quickly straightened out your clothes.

Fred, meanwhile, gave a smirk as he leaned against the wall once more. “You know I think we ought to give you detention for keeping us waiting, Professor.”  

“Did neither of you get my owl?” McGonagall ignored the comment as she moved to unlock the door to her office.

You turned to look at Fred, both of you sharing a confused look. “Owl?”

“Your detention was cancelled,” Once the door was unlocked she stood in the doorway and glanced between the two of you. You didn’t miss the ghost of a smile that flashed on her face. “Though I suppose it’s just as well. The two of you two certainly got to know each other better. Perhaps you can now find it in yourselves to keep the staring to a minimum in my class.”

Then without another word she walked into the room and shut the door behind her.

Your stare was blank as you glanced quickly between the office, Fred, and the spot Professor McGonagall once stood. “Did she -”

Fred chuckled again and followed as you started walking down the hallway towards your common room. “Did she what? Trick us into going on a first date? I think so.”

You weren’t able to keep the grin off your face as you shook your head a little. “It was not a first date. It was talking.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Well in that case how about this weekend? We can try not to get ourselves another detention while sneaking out to Hogsmeade.” Fred stopped when you did and couldn’t help but notice the surprised look on your face, one that faded quickly. “How about it?”

“I’ll agree if you tell me one thing, first.” You challenged, eyes narrowing and arms crossing as you stared directly at him for the first time.

“Anything.” Fred’s answer was just as confident.

Your eyes flickered across his face, taking in the sight of him wearing those glasses just as you had earlier. “You’ve never worn those before have you?”

A beat passed and Fred knew he’d been caught. You could see right through him. “Yes I have.”

“No you haven’t,” Your arms fell to your sides, being able to see his hesitation clearly. “I’d remember.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you look good in them.”

“Do I?” Fred chuckled when your eyes widened at your own comment. One you evidently you hadn’t meant to actually tell him. “Since we’re confessing I suppose I should tell you that you’re right.”

“I knew it!” You were quick to respond and nod in satisfaction. “What are you wearing those for then?”

For a moment Fred only looked at you. This wasn’t where he’d seen his day going. Maybe some more pining, wondering if you’d noticed him at all. Now that he was here beside you, both of you apparently smitten enough with each other for one of your professors to meddle, he was ecstatic. “I’ll tell you but you’re not allowed to laugh at me.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Fine,” Fred started walking down the hall again but stayed focused on you to see what your reaction would be. “I thought they’d make you notice me more since you always seemed to be avoiding me.”

You tried not to smile, you really did. But the corners of your mouth started turning upwards and Fred stopped again, not being able to resist grinning along with you. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m not!” A laugh really did escape you then and you quickly put a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. You looked up at him then, a little more serious. “I swear I’m not laughing at you. I just think it’s cute.”

“Well I’m glad you think so cause I quite like these. Think I look rather dashing.” Fred pushed the glasses up a little bit from where they’d slipped and smirked. “And apparently you agree since the whole reason we’re here is your staring.”

“Hey, both of us were staring, thank you very much.”

“Well I couldn’t help myself, darling. You’re entrancing, you know.”

“Entrancing,” You repeated the word and your grin softened, looking away as butterflies formed in your stomach. “Is that right?”

“It is,” Fred gave a firm nod, giving you no room to argue. “You’re beautiful, love, you must know that.”

When you dared to look at him he was smiling at you, a completely genuine sparkle in his eyes as he looked only at you. You weren’t sure yet what the warm feeling that erupted in your chest and fluttered through your body at the sight of his gaze trained on you was. He was looking at you like you were the world and it overwhelmed you with emotions you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Fred on the other hand? You were positive he was definitely somebody you could get used to. Him and his smile that never faded. Him and his laugh that was practically infectious. Him and his eyes that were full of life, showed you entire worlds, and sat behind a pair of glasses he didn’t need.

“Thank you,” You couldn’t help but beam back at him, a flash of confidence suddenly coursing through your veins. “So are you.”

[mrsmaybank]

My Little Sun - Spencer Reid x Reader

 It could not be heaven because her actions, her sounds and her intentions were the opposite of sanctity and purity: they were sinful. So bad and so good that you could get the two confused.

CW: MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, IMPLIED SMUT, AGE GAP, LANGUAGE, DADDY KINK. (LMK IF I MISSED ANY PLEASE)

PART ONE

PART TWO

A/N: Shiiit!!! Sorry this mediocrity took so long!!! Anyway, let me know if you want me to clear anything up and please let me know if you like it. Kisses <3

I had the right to be upset, but I knew I shouldn’t be. Hotch was right, I could not work the case nor was I in the state to. It was for my own good and maybe the sanity of the rest of the team. I was a mess. He “ordered” me to go get some sleep in the breakroom, knowing I would never agree to go home. But like always, I couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t unusual and my brain began me to torture me with a movie of my most recent memories. 

9 Days Ago 

Friday - 8:49 PM

“I waannt Thaiiii foooood!” Only she could make my heart melt while simultaneously whining and disagreeing with me. She tightened her grip on my hand, “Pretty, pretty please?”

“We had Thai last week.” I looked down at her as we continued walking down the streets. “And plus, you love the Greek place.” She pouted and continued to ramble about why Thai was so much better. Even complaining, her company was so comforting and calming that I was genuinely relaxed, despite the roars of taxi cabs and the indistinct chatter of drunk city goers. 

“Oh my god! Don’t look! Do not look left!” She skipped to my right, “Look-look at me!” I watched her skip around me and cling to my right arm before her little hands grabbed my face and pressed her mouth to mine. 

“Sweetheart,” I tried to get out of her grip but she cut me off by pressing her body to mine and continuing the frenzied kiss. As soon as she needed a breath, I spun in the other direction. “You’re a monster.” I grabbed her hand and we ran to it immediately. A life-size and functioning chess board under an array of colorful lanterns and vines. It was probably a contemporary art piece and I silently thanked whoever created it. I wrapped my arms around her as I excitedly admired it. “Why didn’t you want me to see this?” I whispered into the small of her neck. “Is it because I always beat you at chess?” 

She backed up from me offended, “You don’t always beat me!” 

I grabbed her once more, not liking the space between us. “If you took all of our games, looked at my wins and your losses, I’ve won 98% of the time.” 

“Yeah well…” she tiptoed and grazed her lips against mine, “I win 100% of the time.” I was confused, “At this.” She pressed her entire body to mine and finally kissed me.

“You,”

Kiss.  

“Don’t know,” 

Kiss. 

“What you’re,”

Kiss.

“Starting little,”

Kiss.

“Girl.” 

She grabbed my hand and twirled herself around just to fall back onto me. I caught her, just like she knew I would. I trusted her and she trusted me, and that was the best feeling in the world. “I love you.” I said, still supporting all her weight. 

She stood upright and gave me a light kiss. “I love you so much Spencer.” 

I couldn’t see anything in the world but her. “I would do anything for you.” 

She perked up with a sneaky glint in her eye, “Would you eat Thai two weeks in a row?” She grinned. 

I sighed. She won. “Yeah,” I pushed the hair out of her face, “I would. Let’s go get some.” 

“If..” she rolled her eyes, “We play on the walk back.” I motioned to the board. “I’ll go easy on you.” 

“You’re on Dr. Reid.” she snarked back. 

8 Days Ago

Saturday - 2:31 PM

Saturday was one of those stereotypical rainy days where the world seemed slowed. The pitter patter of the raindrops and the light music of her favorite record created a symphony of other-worldly peace for me. I left our room, and there she was, my perfect girl sitting criss crossed at my desk. I perched over her, laying a sweet kiss on her cheek. 

“So..I was thinking macaroons…” she scrolled through different catering sites, “But cupcakes are a must too.” I watched her plan in adoration. Never in my life had I been so sure of anything. But I wanted to marry this girl and spend every last day of my life like this one and there was no question about it. It was that simple. 

“Spence?” she broke me out of my lovelorn daydreams of growing old together.

“Yeah?” I answered. 

“Chocolate or red velvet? There is one right answer.” her eyes narrowed. 

“Oh,” I knew exactly what she wanted me to say, “Red velvet. All the way.” 

“You really are a genius.” She teased and began to scribble ‘Red Velvet’ on the small notebook next to her. I looked at the list of random little things she’d written down in preparation for the day. It assured me she was just as infatuated with the idea of a future together as I was. I sighed, “Even your handwriting is cute.” 

“Duh..” she retorted and I rolled my eyes, “Can I read you the food list?” I gently lifted her off the desk seat, “You can read it to me on the couch maybe?” 

She nodded and grabbed her notebook. I sat first, and she took the opportunity to crawl in my lap. It’s like our bodies were made for each other because she just fit so perfectly there. 

“For the dessert table, hazelnut, pistachio and vanilla macaroons. From the French bakery in downtown. Obviously.  Red velvet cupcakes from that bakery JJ told me about. Remember the ones she ordered for her baby shower?” I nodded. “Those.”

“White chocolate macadamia nut cookies, and if I get my way..”

“You always do.” I teased. “Yeah, and don’t forget it.” she smiled, “Tiny little cheesecake squares.” 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” I said. “Of course! A lot of tiny desserts are waaay better than one big cake.” 

“And more sanitary.” It was her turn to sigh.

“Yes yes, and more sanitary.” She laid her head in my chest and closed her eyes.

 “I told Penelope we’d meet her at the restaurant at 3.” 

“But it’s raining!” I complained. Truthfully, I just didn’t want this moment to end. She gave me a look and I stopped my protests. “Y’know if we order an Uber instead of taking the metro, we might have time to take a nice…” her words purposely trailed, “Long...hot shower.” She didn’t really have to say much else, batting her eyelashes to give this heart wrenching illusion of innocence. I wasn't buying it. Then, being way too coy for her age, she ran her hands up my chest and flashed me a coquettish grin. It was textbook but, goddd. Her smile alone turned me on to an extent it shouldn’t. 

I let her off my lap and stood up instantly, grabbing her hand and leading her to our bathroom. “Now.”

7 Days Ago 

Sunday - 9:22 AM 

The view convinced me I had died and arrived in heaven. I had to be. Where else but heaven does an angel perch themselves on your lap? No, though. It wasn’t heaven. It could not be heaven because her actions, her sounds and her intentions were the opposite of sanctity and purity: they were sinful. So bad and so good that you could get the two confused. 

She kissed down my neck and I swore my heart would burst out of my chest. She paused and sat up to say “When was the last time we got a whole weekend together like this?” 

I rubbed her arms up and down, “I can’t even remember.” 

“Me neither.” She kind of sounded like she wanted to say something else, but I didn’t really care, kissing her open mouth and rocking my hips up to hers. She was panting by the time my hands met her chest. “Please,” she whined, “Daddy, please.” 

She had no idea what she was asking for but I did. So I gave it to her. 

I would give her anything. 

6 Days Ago 

Monday 7:02 AM 

“Bye baby.” I kissed her still bed-headed hair. 

“NOooo!” she tried to pull my satchel back into her mess of sheets. 

“I’m sorry.” I sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. She curled her head into my lap and I caressed her forehead. 

“You have class today.” I felt her twitch, “An important one. You should eat a good breakfast.” 

“I know.” she said sadly. I registered that the sadness was less about class, and more about the fact we both knew this was goodbye for at least a couple days. Time spent together was bliss and days apart were agonizing, regardless of how important both of our responsibilities were. 

“Hey, think about what a good weekend we had.” I gently reminded her. 

“I know but now you’re gonna be gone.” The pain in her voice brought me the kind of sorrow that you didn’t wish upon your worst enemy. 

“Not for too long, little girl.” I kissed her forehead again, “I promise.” 

She got up and sighed, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

I wish she wouldn’t do that, but I couldn’t blame her either. 

“I’m sorry.” She just shook her head. 

“Don’t be. Go save some lives Dr. Reid.” there was a gentle smile on her face as she said the words, “I’ll be right here when you get back.” I enveloped her in a hug with nothing but love, and she still couldn't resist teasing me, “Or maybe drunk at a Frat house, I don’t know.” 

My eyes went wide and the thought immediately gave me anxiety, “Please, do not. Do you know-” She shut me up with a kiss and I silently thanked her for it. “I love you Spencer. I’ll see you soon.” “I love you more.” I got up and headed for the door, “Sooner than later, okay?” 

She nodded, “Okay.” 

3 Days Ago 

Wednesday 2:10 AM 

I silently stepped through the apartment, relishing in the stillness that meant just maybe, my begging Y/N not to waste sleep over me had worked, but I still doubted it. Her listening to my instructions was like a solar eclipse: disappointingly rare. 

As soon as I made it to the bedroom though, I was pleasantly surprised. She was asleep, but not yet under the covers. Poor thing had tried to stay up, but couldn’t. As much as I wanted to instantly smother her in affection, I restrained myself only to admire the sight of her in nothing but underwear and a grey cardigan of mine. She’d only done a single button too, obscuring the direct view so her figure was just barely covered. It was incredibly attractive and she knew it.

I began to undress, trying to remain silent as I exchanged my tie and vest for pajama pants and the Caltech sweater on the dresser. I didn’t wear it much before she did. In fact, I’d only started wearing it because despite it being 5 sizes too big for her, she adored it. For the first couple months of knowing her, it was the only thing she slept in. And because of that, it smelled like her perfume. Nestling myself into bed next to her, I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her close, while trying to gently pull the sheets out from under her. 

“Get under the covers.” Her eyes fluttered open, “Spence...Spencer?” She smiled, “Spencer!” 

She buried herself impossibly closer to my chest, arms and legs wrapping around me like a…

“You’re like a panda.” I laughed. She giggled, “You’re bamboo.”

“Are you calling me a stick-skinny? That’s hurtful, y/n.” We laughed harder until I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her. The kisses were long and sweet as we both savored the reunion. She tugged on the sweater I wore, “Why are you wearing my sweatshirt?” I brushed some hair out of her face. “It was mine first.” She rolled her eyes, “Pff...did you even go to Caltech?” She was trying so hard to control laughter, “Poser.” 

She laughed as I’m sure despite silence from me she could hear my internal screaming. 

Her laughter finally ceased when my grip on her got looser and my eyes hung a little lower. “Sleepy?” she asked. 

I nodded and so did she, “Me too.” We got under the covers together. 

“Hold me.” she hummed. “Hotch give you guys the day off tomorrow?”

“Yeah, recuperation. The case was...rough.” 

“You guys catch the guy?” she asked. 

I nodded, “Yeah.” “That’s amazing Spence. You’re so amazing.” I held her tighter. 

“I love you.” I said. 

“I love you too. Now go to sleep.” And so I did. 

2 Days Ago 

Thursday 6:30 PM

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.  

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”

“You are. So, so much smarter.”

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.

Present Day 

Sunday 11:45 PM

How did it all seem so incredibly long ago? The BAU break room couch was definitely not made for sleeping, and yet Hotch had insisted I come try to get some rest. What was the use? How was I supposed to rest knowing that Y/N was out there in so much danger? I couldn’t rest until we found her, everybody knew that. 

Morgan came rushing into the tiny room, “Garcia’s got a hit. Her father left her 3 of his commercial properties, one of which is an abandoned mall.” 

I wasn’t allowed to work on the profile, but this was, for lack of a better word, a clear trap. “Morgan, it can’t be that easy. We both know that.” 

“Kid, she’s having a psychotic break. Everything about this is disorganized. It wasn’t planned at all. It’s not that much of a stretch to say she’d go to a secluded place she figured we’d never find.”

“Was there a second stressor? JJ and I thought it might’ve been the proposal but…” 

“Reid, I’ll brief you in the car. Get your shit together and let’s go get Y/N.” 

----

Taglist: @slaterskaterslaterboi @frickin-bats @bxtchboy69​  @reidsbbg

@sassy-hades @jackiehollanderr @k-k0129 @spenceoffense​

(Comment to be added)

[reidgraygubler]

a different type of high (spencer reid/reader) pt 4

Title: A Different Type of High (part four)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gender-neutral!reader

Category: angst in the first half, some fluff in the second half

Content Warning: mentions of death, talks about parent death, relapse scare, suicidal ideation, talks about drug usage and drugs, anxiety/panic attacks, explanations of nightmares/night terrors, swearing, intrusive thoughts,

Word Count: 4,514

Summary: Reader nearly relapses because of the anniversary of her mother’s passing. 

A/N: this one does deal with some heavier topics (see CW's), so please proceed with caution. I originally had t his as on big long part, but, uh, it was too long. So it’s two parts… anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

last part  series masterlist  next part

{***}{***}{***}

I sat in the living room with my eyes on the coffee table. Several orange pill bottles sat lined up on the edge. The way the light caught the plastic caught my attention, mostly in a bad way. I was already on edge, and my day was already ruined. Any number of things could have made my day bad, but we can easily put the blame on my mother. And, I’m not just saying that because she’s an easy target. No, I’m blaming her because she died a year ago on this very day.

I was hungry, and not for the food in my fridge. No, I was hungry for the high and the nothingness. The high that was dangerous and could likely kill me. Maybe that’s what I wanted. I mean, the only person I have in life to keep me grounded was Spencer… And we’ve only known each other for a short time. What if he’s faking it all? He doesn’t really care about me. He just says he does. Saying stuff I want to hear.

My body was on autopilot as my hand moved towards the bottles. The grip I had on the lid was tight like my life depended on it. Mostly because, in that moment, my life did depend on it. That was until a slip of paper caught my eyes. An unfamiliar handwriting was scribbled across the paper, but a more familiar name was at the bottom. 

Just because I’m at work doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you! Please call me if you need help with anything! 

-Spencer

I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at the note. I have no idea when he would have written it and put it there. But it was the exact sort of pick-me-up I needed to stop me from making a stupid mistake. 

I stood up and shoved the paper and bottle of pills in my pocket before making my way to the door. My keys and a small stack of quarters sat on the side table beside the door, they ended up in my pocket. 

My feet moved themselves, and I soon appeared at the laundromat down the street. There were a few people there, and I could tell they 

hadn’t been there for very long. I just hope my phone call to Spencer wasn’t too long and they didn’t listen. Although, why would they listen to a random girl’s phone call? They don’t care, they won’t care. 

I quickly made my way towards the payphones, going to the furthest one to ensure my own privacy (again, they won’t care). I fished out the quarters as I sat down. It was kind of amazing how quickly I dialed Spencer’s number, and more impressive how fast I remembered it. It was the next number I remembered after my address.

The phone only dialed for a few seconds before he answered. I would have assumed he was busy with work or something. But, I guess, like his note said, even if he was busy, he was thinking about me. I’m pretty sure he was just saying that though.

“Hello, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” he spoke calmly like he didn’t know what was happening. Well, that was probably because he had no idea I was on the verge of a breakdown. “Hello?”

“It’s… It’s me… Spencer, Spencer, I…” I swallowed roughly as I stared blankly at the wall in front of me. I could feel my heart beating a million miles an hour and hear the beating in my head. It was nearly deafening to me. Being alone didn’t help the anxious feeling. “Are you home?” My voice was a light whisper, and I wondered if he even heard me ask. I don’t even know why I asked if he was at home. I knew he was at work. It’s only 3 pm. Maybe I was just hoping he’d be home, and he could come over and save the day, make me feel better somehow. How though? I’m not sure. Spencer’s a fix-it type of guy, I’m sure he’ll figure something out.

“I’m still at work. But I should be home soon. Why? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” He asked, his voice heavily laced with concern. It was that moment that I realized he did care about me. 

I closed my eyes and brought my hand to rest over my mouth to muffle any sobs. “Are you okay? I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.” He asked again when I stayed silent. I let out a deep sigh and shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

“I, uh, I… I want…” I let out another deep sigh, hoping he’d know what I was getting at. “Please don’t make me say it,” I whispered and looked at the counter. My fingers rapidly tapped against the smooth surface. We both knew I had to say it and admit my defeat and the fact that I was sitting in the laundromat, with a bottle of whatever drug I had hidden in my bathroom. “Fuck,” I shouted before slamming the phone down on the hook. The other few people in the laundromat looked at me with caution in their eyes. 

“What?!” I looked at them before I tightly tugged my sweater around my body before storming out of the laundromat. The pill bottle in my pocket rattled with each step I took, and it was getting very difficult to move without wanting to take anything. Tears sprung from my eyes, blurring my vision the longer I was outside.

When I finally made it back to my apartment, I stormed to the bathroom. My reflection scared me. I almost didn’t recognize myself. It was a little horrifying, seeing myself as so unrecognizable. So, I stared at myself, my hand in my pocket, rattling the contents inside.

I scoffed before shaking my head. My hand came out with the bottle, and my eyes looked down at it. My thumb fidgeted with the lid, wanting to pop it off and pour the contents into my mouth. But, instead, I chucked it to the sink, the lid popping off and pills flying everywhere, before I ran to my bedroom.

I pulled the blankets over my body to hide from the world. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and face and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. That’s a shame too… Nearly two months clean and all I wanted to do was not exist and ruin everything.

{***}{***}{***}

I jumped awake when a very loud banging came on the front door. I looked around my room before swinging my legs off my bed and leaving the room. I dragged my body across my apartment and to the front door, where the banging hadn’t stopped.

I pulled the door open and looked up. Spencer was standing there, looking at me with a frantic expression on his face. I stared at him with wide eyes, my earlier fears and anxieties quickly returning. I had nearly forgotten about calling him too. Damn it.

“You didn’t do anything, did you? You didn’t take anything?” He asked, looking down at me. I took a deep breath and shook my head. I stepped to the side and silently invited him inside. He stepped inside and looked back at me, before looking around my home. He was probably looking for any signs of current drug use. The only real sign was in the bathroom… Where the bathroom had a grenade of pills explode all over the place. We’ll just keep him out of there… For now...

“No, no, I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I, uh... I took a nap and cried it out,”  I rubbed the underside of my nose. I pressed the door shut before turning around to look at him. He was looking at me, he still wore a panicky expression in his eyes and it made me feel sick. He doesn’t believe that I didn’t do anything. I wouldn’t believe me either.

“What happened?” Spencer finally asked as I walked up to him. He opened his arms up and allowed me to hug him. I honestly didn’t want to answer him. Everything about today was already awful, and I just wanted it to be over. “Can you tell me what happened?” He asked after a moment of silence. I let out a deep sigh after he pulled his arms away from me. He noted my deep breath and wrapped his arms back around me. 

I turned my head away from his chest so I could have a coherent sentence. Er, well, as coherent as it could get. “My… It’s the anniversary of… Of my mom's death,” I swallowed roughly. Spencer looked down at me before squeezing me harder. I pressed my face into his chest and shook my head. “And, I just…. Wanted to disappear. I don’t know…” I spoke, my words being muffled into his shirt. One of Spencer’s hands cradled the back of my head while the other held me closer to him. “I didn’t want to be alive at the moment,” I whispered. 

“Don’t say that,” he returned the whisper. His voice vibrated in his chest, and it felt good against my head. The way he squeezed me made me feel safer in the moment. “Please don’t ever say that again,” his voice cracked at the end. I bit my lips together as I started to cry. “Don’t even think like that,” his voice got even lower, probably because he was also crying and he was just trying to mask that fact.

“You don’t get to think that way either,” I looked up at him and furrowed my eyebrows. He looked at me as he remembered when he was gone for a week and how he stood in front of several people with loaded weapons. 

“This isn’t about me… It’s about you,” he whispered, bringing a hand to my face. His thumb brushed away the tears that were rolling down my cheeks, but that was basically useless because I couldn’t stop crying. But it felt good to cry, to be honest. “You’re still young and have so much to live for. Someone has to save you,” he looked down at me, his hand still holding my face. I feared that he was only doing it to make sure I was still here and alive. Which was a weird fear for me to have, and I suppose for him to have. 

“So are you, Spencer,” I whispered as I leaned into his touch more. He swallowed roughly as he kept his eyes on me. His eyes grew glossy the longer he stared at me. “You save everyone… But who saves you from yourself?” I furrowed my eyebrows. Spencer sighed deeply before hugging me again. 

“You do,” his whisper was hardly audible, so I was happy I heard his words. I wasn’t so sure what he meant by that. I mean, obviously, I was the thing that kept him sane while he was home. But, I don’t exactly know how I save him though. So, I was unsure as to why he told me that.  “It’s just been difficult for me recently. But, I’m working on getting better,” he spoke softly. And, I swear he said ‘for you’, but it was so quiet I couldn’t be sure. Even if he did say it, I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to hear it.

We stayed silent for a while, and we just stood in each other’s arms for even longer. Being in his embrace made me feel safe, and I know I said that earlier. But it’s true. I wonder if he felt the same.

“You alright?” Spencer looked up at me. I looked down at our hands and nodded. “You look like you haven’t slept in a couple of days,” he spoke, his tone was soft and gentle. I could tell that he really cared and was trying really hard not to sound mean. I didn’t mean to take it to heart the way I did, but I did.

“Not really,” I grumbled and looked down at the ground. I shrugged and quickly glanced at him. He was looking at me with an apologetic look on his face, silently telling me that he was sorry for suddenly offending me. I shrugged it off like it was nothing. It wouldn’t be the first or last time someone offended me over something so… small and unimportant. He shouldn’t be sorry, it’s my own fault. He was just asking if I was alright.

 “The last few days have been rough for me, ya know? Especially with this whole thing,” I sighed deeply and shrugged again.

“If I stay here, will you promise to get some rest,” Spencer offered, grasping both my hands. I looked at our hands with a dullness in my eyes. I was beginning to zone out because of how tired I was getting. Spencer lifted a hand and gently rubbed my shoulder. I sighed and looked down before looking up at his face.

“I’m having nightmares, and they’re really realistic… That’s why I’m losing sleep,” I whispered. Spencer looked at me before pulling me into a hug. “And they’re about everything. Me, my mom, you, drugs, dying, death… I don’t know,” I mumbled into his chest. I pressed my chin into his chest and looked up at him. Spencer looked down at me with a smile on his lips. We were really close to each other’s face, and I know he noticed that too. “I like when you spend the night,” I noted, changing the subject to something lighter, even though it was that much lighter. 

“Really,” he asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling lightly. I nodded and returned the smile. “Why’s that,”

“Because then I’m not lonely, and left with my thoughts,” I whispered as I stared at him. I’ve never noticed how pretty his eyes are, with their golden and greeny color. He looked at me like he saw something, but I was clueless about what he saw. “And, whenever I’m with you, I feel safe and at home, in some weird way. I’m sorry. I don’t know. The exhaustion is starting to hit me now that you pointed it out,” I sat back away from him. I pressed my hands into my face and shook my head. “I just never sleep anymore and I’m honestly used to it at this point. But I’m tired all the damn time,” 

“I’ll be here, you can rest. You don’t have to worry about anything hurting you,” he whispered before wrapping an arm around my body. I looked up at him and nodded. “Let’s lie down?” he asked softly. I nodded before going to walk to my bedroom. Before I even got the chance to step a foot away from him, Spencer picked me up and carried me. I looked at his face and furrowed my eyebrows. “I’m fully capable of walking, you know,” 

“I know,” Spencer smiled as he readjusted his hold on me. He was carrying me like a backpack, but on his front instead of his back. “But you’re tired,” he hummed as he held me tightly.

“Yeah, I am,” I looked at him with a smile. Spencer laughed at me and shook his head. Our faces were close again, closer than before. And, for some reason, I really wanted to kiss him. Which, again, is weird. He’s my best friend… And I want to fucking kiss him. It just felt like the perfect moment for us to kiss. But, I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I can’t lose the one thing that’s keeping me grounded. And he can’t lose the thing keeping him grounded.

Spencer carefully kicked my bedroom door open and walked in. He laid me down on one side of the bed before going to the other side. The blanket was pulled over both our bodies and Spencer was close to me.

“Please get some sleep,” he whispered, brushing hair away from my face. I looked up at him and nodded. “Do you want me to rub your back?” 

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” I laughed before rolling onto my stomach. “My bestest friend ever,” I hummed as he started running his hand along my back.

“Aren’t I your only friend?” Spencer joked lightly.

“Ah, not only that. My bestest friend,” I looked up at him and smiled. Spencer shook his head before brushing his fingers across my eyelids, somehow getting me to close my eyes. 

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. I giggled and nodded before moving closer to him. Spencer returned the laughter before wrapping an arm over me. 

{***}{***}{***}

I wrinkled my nose as I noticed a weight across my body. It wasn’t like an emotional weight like I’ve been so used to waking up to recently. No, there was something actually on top of me while I was asleep. So, when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t too surprised when I saw something on me. However, I was more surprised that it was another person. That’s right, Spencer stayed the night.

His arm was strewn across my torso, and his legs were entwined with mine. His head was resting on the same pillow as me. The way he slept so soundly and restfully made me mildly jealous. How come he gets to sleep so peacefully and I don’t?

I hope he was as peaceful as I thought. There was probably not a bad thing he was dreaming about. Unfortunately for me, I was freaking out because I dreamt that I watched my best friend being killed.

I laid back, pressing my head into the pillow before turning to look at Spencer. His nose twitched as he stirred lightly before hugging me tighter. I held my breath, worried that my breathing would wake up. But, it did. There was no need for worry. He must be having a good dream with all the humming and hugging he was doing. 

I looked at his face, mesmerized by the way he slept so soundly. The way his eyelashes pressed against his cheeks, and freckles dotted the bridge of his nose. His lips pouty and slightly parted. I didn’t even realize he was awake and I was staring till he said something.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling me closer before nuzzling into me more. I smiled softly as I looked up at him again. “You don’t have to go to the bathroom, do you?” he hummed as he closed his eyes again. 

“No, I don’t,” I replied back, giving up on any chances of getting up. We might be here for a while, so there’s probably no point in getting out of bed with Spencer holding me hostage. 

“Mmm, good,” he opened his eyes and looked down at me. The tired smile on his lips made me feel warm and safe as I looked at him. “How long have you been awake?” he asked, his thumb rubbing circles on my shoulder.

“Not long,” I whispered, looking right at his eyes. He looked back at me and nodded. “How did you sleep,”

“I think that was the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time,” he closed his eyes again, “Something about your bed is very comfortable,” he looked down at me and smiled. 

“Is it the bed or is it because you’re sleeping with someone to cuddle with?” I asked myself as I stared at him. “I’m happy you find my bed comfortable,” I laughed lightly. My bed is not comfortable. So I know he didn’t find it that comfortable.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, placing a hand on my cheek. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him.   

“Better than the previous night,” I shrugged a little bit. Spencer frowned as he readjusted his hold on me. “Let’s make breakfast,” I spoke out loud before sitting up, pushing his arms off me. 

“Breakfast?” 

“Yeah,” I smiled as I slipped out of bed and grasped his hand to pull him out of bed. He grumbled before standing out of the bed. I smiled at him before practically skipping out of the bedroom. “I’m sure I have something!” I spoke out loud, knowing I have nothing much for breakfast.

 I went right to the kitchen, instantly eyeing up the loaf of bread that was probably a little stale. I grabbed it and opened the fridge, happy to see a carton of eggs. And with that, I made eggs in a basket. I hope that Spencer would enjoy that. Considering it was one of the only things I knew how to make.

“Coffee?” Spencer asked as he slowly walked into the kitchen. I turned around and pulled open a cabinet. A can of Folgers was sitting on the top shelf. I pouted as I stared at the can.

“I don’t think it’s good,” I muttered as I pulled the can from the shelf. “I probably had this stupid can of grounds for an embarrassingly long time,” I spoke as I looked into the can and noted that the grounds were kinda gross and kinda clumpy, causing me to pout. “No coffee,” I muttered, tossing the can to the garbage, only to miss and go over. The can landed with a clang on the ground. 

“We can always get some later,” Spencer smiled as he bent over to pick up the can. I raised my eyebrow at him as he tossed the can to the trash, without failing.

“We?” I asked, turning to watch him lean against the counter. He shrugged and smiled.

“Why not,” he shrugged again. I smiled as I looked at him. It was only then that I realized I was burning the food.

“Oh no!” I jumped around to the stove to remove the pan from the stove. “I hope you’re okay with burnt eggs and toast,” I pouted as I looked back at Spencer. He had stepped closer to the stovetop to watch me. He looked very amused with my laughter and urgency with cooking. “Don’t laugh!” I looked up at his face.

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you panic over food before,” he pointed out with a smile. I looked down at the burnt food as I carefully moved it to a plate.

“I’m hungry,” I muttered before shrugging. I looked back up at Spencer and shrugged.

“That’s a good thing…” 

“Being hungry? How is that a good thing?” I scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

“You have your appetite back,” Spencer pointed out before he lifted me up to set me back down on the counter. It was so effortless as he moved me. I was impressed that he barely strained to lift me (unless, he did and I was just oblivious to it).  We were at the same level now, and I was able to look him in the eye instead of at his chest. 

“Why’d you do that?” I looked at him before looking at the counter beside me. 

“So we can have an eye to eye conversation,” he smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and looked down at the plate of two burnt eggs in a basket. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, watching as I started picking at the food. He smiled as he stood between my legs. 

“You just did,” I smiled, trying to pretend like I wasn’t suddenly anxious. Why ask someone if you can ask a question? Why not just ask the question? That’s like #1 reason why people get anxious. 

“I want to take you to the office, so you can meet everyone,” he whispered as he grabbed some food too. I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You want to take me… To the FBI…” I stared at Spencer. I almost relapsed yesterday and had the worst day of the year yesterday... And, he wants to take me to… The FBI to meet his friends… I could feel bile rising from my stomach. It honestly took everything in me to hold back the sick. So, I slowly lowered my hand and food back to the counter.

“Yeah, they’re my family, and you’re my family… So, that also makes them yours,” Spencer smiled at me. I dropped my shoulders as I stared at him. I really didn’t want to argue his logic there, but I understand why he said that. 

“Won’t… They’ll… Spencer, that’s… I don’t think that's a good… They’ll ask how you know me,” I whispered as I looked away from him. He rested a hand on my knee and looked at my face.

“We won’t worry about that right now,” he whispered in a reassuring tone. I stared at him and shrugged.

“What’ll we tell them? When they ask, ya know?” I looked up at him. Spencer stayed silent as he looked around my kitchen. I could only assume he was thinking really hard about what we would say and how we would lie to his family. 

“I’m not sure,” Spencer shrugged as he grasped my hands. I looked down at our hands and felt a frown forming. “I don’t know,” he whispered and shook his head. It was obvious for both of us that we would have a hard time being around his friends. Everything about telling a bunch of FBI agents that you’re addicted/was addicted to drugs can be a little (alright, a lot) intimidating. What are they going to do? The worst thing is they arrest me and fire Spencer. “Don’t overthink it,” he looked up at me. I nodded.

“I just won’t think about it,” I forced a smile before shrugging. Spencer gave me a knowing smile. “If they’re your family, Spencer, then they’re my family,” I sighed deeply as I looked down at my legs. I pulled my hands from his before rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. “And, I’d love to meet your family,” I sighed even deeper as I looked up at him. His face lit up a little bit with my words, and it genuinely made me feel happy. 

“You’ll love them,” he whispered before pulling me off the counter. I wrinkled my nose before looking up at him.

“I mean, I’ve already met Emily. And, she seemed definitely cool,” I laughed as I grabbed the plate. I looked at the two burnt pieces of bread. I tossed them into the trash and looked up at him. “I just hope everyone else is just as cool as she is, and even as cool as you,” I cocked my head as I looked up at him. He stayed silent before pulling me into a hug. “When would you even want me to go?” I asked once he released me. My stomach felt upside-down as I asked my stupid question. “Whenever you want,” he spoke softly. I looked down at the ground and nodded.

 “I should let you get to work. I know you don’t like being late,” I pouted, “I’ll see you later?” 

“Of course,” Spencer smiled before hugging me again.

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series taglist: @shameleswhorehourstm, @itsametaphorbriansblog, @bxtchboy69, @sammypotato67, @seninjakitey, @thebluetint​

didn’t work: thatsonezesty13,  mediocrehamiltrash

[suchalonelysunflower]

You Broke Me First (C.H)

Pairing: former FWB!Calum X Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Based on the song “You Broke Me First” by Tate McRae. You are trying to forget about the man who broke your heart, so it’s a surprise when his name appears on your phone again.

Warnings: Angst af. Language. Mild Smut. Mentions of Alcohol and cheating. Probably one or two grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 5K

Author’s Note: Requested by the lovely @thebasicbitch-things ✨ I loved writing this piece, maybe because I love the song so much, so thank you for requesting it and I hope I made it justice 💕. Feedback, reblogs and comments are always welcome and appreciated it! You can read my other works HERE. Happy reading! 🦋

@thebasicbitch-things : Can you write a Calum imagine based off the song You Broke me first by Tate McRae?? Like I’m just in a weeping mood. Thank you xxx

Maybe you don't like talking too much about yourself

But you shoulda told me that you were thinkin' 'bout someone else

You're drunk at a party or maybe it's just that your car broke down

Your phone's been off for a couple months, so you're calling me now

The liquid burns your throat, but you don’t really feel it anymore. When the heat starts spreading around the rest of your body is when you know you need another one. And another one. And another one. Anything to keep him from your mind.

It’s ironic how the memory of him still lingers on, even more with every drink you drown. Well, it’s not so ironic as it is shitty. But it’s at times like this, when you’re at a random club in the middle of the night surrounded by strangers trying to create stories of their own while all you want to do is forget, that the only thing your mind can focus on is him.

A year ago:

“Babe?” You heard his voice as he exited the bathroom. Still shirtless and with his boxers on, hanging loosely “Are you okay?”

You sat down on the bed, your naked skin barely covered by the messy sheets “Mhmm” you mumbled, still zooned out in your own thoughts and worries as you saw Calum grab his shirt and jeans from the floor.

It was always the same. He would call or text, you would meet with any excuse, hang out for a while before moving to the bedroom. The same old story of friends who fuck each other, with the same old ending every night: you in your bed watching him get dressed and close the door on his way out.

“Do you really have to leave?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“I have to”

“No, you don’t have to”

“Y/N…”

You hated that condescending tone. Not only that, but you hated yourself, too. You and this whole messy situation you got yourself into. You didn’t know how bad of an idea it was to accept his proposal of friends with benefits when you already had feelings for him. But who could say no to Calum Hood? Especially with the hopes of becoming something more along the way.

At the beginning it was all you could dream of. The night seemed endless when he hold you close to him, breathing the same air as your bodies collided with each other, creating messes as you explored every inch of skin you had to offer, seeing stars explode with every right touch, hearing each other’s names like prayers coming from your parting lips. It was almost like you couldn’t get enough, almost.

“What? God, Calum, would it kill you to stay the night just once? Would it ruin your reputation of a heartthrob batchellor?”

“What has gotten into you?” He asked in confusion at your sudden outburst “You know the rules of this”

“Oh, the rules. Fuck them”

The rules were simple: Never overstaying, no exclusivity, don’t let others find out, never do anything public… but most importantly: Never fall in love. You had agree to that once, but most certainly broken almost every rule. You’ve fallen in love with him.

“Y/N…”

“It hurts, Calum” You said with glossy eyes “It hurts when you leave, and I- I can’t watch you do that anymore”

Calum’s eyes soften a bit. Debating whether or not he should stay. But after a pleading “Please” from your lips he caved in, laying down on the bed next to you, pulling you closer to him.

You smiled, allowing yourself to drift away in dreams and hopes of him laying next to you for the rest of your lives. Little did you know that those dreams were to be crushed next morning when you find an empty bed and a note with a little ‘sorry’ scribbled on it.

That was the first nights of many where he would lay down with you. Sometimes he would stay till morning and share a cup of coffee with you at breakfast. Other times he would disappear as a ghost in the middle of the night, only leaving the marks on your body as proof of his presence. It hurted, but at least you didn’t watch him walk away. You never watched as he did.

Took a while, was in denial when I first heard

That you moved on quicker than I could've ever, you know that hurt

Swear for a while I would stare at my phone just to see your name

But now that it's there, I don't really know what to say

You feel your friend’s grasp on your arm as they drag you down to the dance floor. Pulling you away from your own pity party as you watch how they sway to the beat of a song you’ve never heard of, soon joining them with the alcohol in your veins rushing towards your brain and taking control of your every move. ‘Tonight is not about Calum’ you tell yourself as you let the music take you away, already feeling the effects of the one too many shots you did earlier. But some things are easier said than done.

It’s funny, how after so many months of not seeing each other you can still feel him in your skin. You memorized the way his hands wrapped around your waist and the smell of his cologne. You could still feel his breath on your neck, the burning kisses he used to leave and the whispers that got lost inside a dream. Even now that you are dancing along to an ear shattering beat, the rhythm of your heart still beats and longs for him.

You can feel yourself in the dire need of another drink, desperate to push those memories away and cleanse yourself from his touch once and for all. You don’t care how many nights it would take, how many people or how many hangovers. You are determined to get that boy out of your system, where he won’t hurt you anymore.

“Y/N!” Your friend yells over the music, gesturing towards your hand “Your phone is glowing!”

You bring your phone to your face, trying to focus on the image that’s plastered across the screen. A name pops up, a name you haven’t seen in so long.

Muttering an “Oh fuck” you press ‘decline’ over and over again, until Calum stopped calling.

Seven months ago:

It’s been two weeks since you last heard from him. It’s been two weeks since he left you alone in a fuzz. It’s been two weeks since he slammed the door and he still hasn’t called.

Maybe he was right and you fucked everything up. But you were sure of your words, you know there’s truth to them, so you stan by them. He will soon realize his mistake, he has to. He wouldn’t leave you like that, would he? He must know he hurt you, he must. The words he said… they are like tattoos on your mind, they don’t seem to fade with time. But you knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. You were as guilty as he was.

For the past two weeks you’ve been glued to your screen, hoping for his name to appear. Taping your screen randomly to see if you’ve gotten a text or a call or a dm or even a fucking email. But nothing ever came.

It wasn’t until you were scrolling down Twitter that you saw it.

It was a paparazzi photo, he was wearing a classic tee and the sweatpants you once told him were your favorite on him. His hair was longer, or at least it seemed like it, his eyes avoiding the cameras as he walked through the busy streets of LA as he normally would. The only difference is the hand that was holding his.

A lump formed in your throat as you opened the tweet to find a thread of even more pictures of him with the mysterious person, grabbing them by the waist and smiling as they came closer. The paparazzi seemed to catch every single intimate moment he was able to show in public, much more than he ever showed you when you were both out and sober, at least. But Calum seemed happy, and that hurt you the most.

A thousand questions ran through your head as you ignored the happy tweets from fans celebrating that his favorite band member finally got a significant other. How long has this been going on? Did he ever tell you about it? You never claim exclusivity, so it could’ve had happen when you were still ‘together’, meaning he choose them. He left you and chose them, replacing you and everything you didn’t get to have without even saying goodbye.

Swallowing the bitterness of the memory with a shot of tequila, you press decline once again and order another drink. What would you say to him anyway? Would you curse him? Would you kiss him? Would he even apologize or pretend that it never happened? The truth is, you don’t even want to know.

You catch some flirty eyes from across the bar, but you ignore them as you try to collect your thoughts on this whole situation, and besides, don’t need another heartbreak at the moment.

“That guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he came in” Said the bartender, pouring you another drink.

You lift your gaze towards ’pretty eyes’ over the bar, but he already seemed to have lost interest in you as his eyes scattered all over the room, looking for another person to spend his time with.

“Doesn’t seem like it” You nod toward the other end of the bar.

“What? No, not him. Him!”

They point behind you and you turn around quickly, a pretty bad idea considering how drunk you are at the moment. But wasted or not, you would recognize those eyes anywhere.

Calum is standing in the middle of a sea of people, but his eyes are solemnly focusing on you as he raises his phone to his ear, raising his eyebrows as he hears the dial tone. Almost immediately, your phone starts ringing next to you with the all too familiar name popping out again.

Without breaking eye contact, you press decline once again, standing up quickly as you start to walk up to the nearest exit, trying to get away from him as fast as you could. ‘Tonight is not about Calum’ you told yourself earlier that night, and yet there he was, pushing his way through a drunk crowd to get towards you.

“Y/N!” You hear him call, but you are not stopping. You don’t need this confrontation right now. You don’t want to see him or talk to him. You want to forget him and everything you ever did.

Feeling like your chest is going to explode at any second, you accelerated your pace, not caring how many people you have to push to get to the door as long as he doesn’t find you. Your legs, however, had other plans as they give out due to the mix dizziness and adrenaline you were feeling, just mere meters from the exit. You curse your past self for having so many drinks as you try to get up. But, soon enough, you feel an arm rounding around your waist and pulling you to your feet.

After almost eight months you find yourself reflected in those eyes again. The same eyes that made you feel butterflies in your stomach everytime he looked your way. You couldn’t help but get drawn into them, remembering that the last time you saw them they replaced the desire with anger, shaking you to your core.

He was saying something, you were sure of it because his mouth is moving “What?!”

“I said, Why aren’t you answering your phone?!” He yelled over the music. Your drunk mind can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him or cry right there on the spot.

“That’s none of your business! Now please let go of me, I want to go home”

You push yourself away from his grasp “Y/N, please I need to ta-“ He interrupted himself as he watched you almost trip over your own feet again, clearly too drunk to stand straight. In a matter of seconds, he was by your side again, this time pulling your arm over his shoulders so you could lay on him “Wha- How many drinks did you have?”

“As many as I needed” You scoffed, trying to pull away, but his grip on your waist was stronger.

“For what?! Drown yourself?”

“I needed to forget you” Calum clenches his jaw, feeling like his heart was shattered into a million pieces “But that’s clearly not working, given that you are here. Would you please let me go?”

“Y/N you are too drunk to function,”

“Am not!”

“Please, let me take you home. I need to talk to you”

“Leave me alone, Calum. I don’t need you and I most definitely don’t want to talk to you”

You turn your face to him. It has been a long time since you last saw him. He has more curls now, and a little five o’clock shadow, but his yes,,, oh, his eyes. The time stops, or at least it feels like it, it was almost like the first time you saw them, magnetic and filled with something you couldn’t decipher, but now they had something different. They were hurting, pleading, almost begging you for something you didn’t quite understand at the moment, but you know you couldn’t say no to those eyes, at least not here and not in your condition.

So after making sure you could stand properly, you caved “Fine”

I know you, you're like this

When shit don't go your way you needed me to fix it

And like me, I did

But I ran out of every reason

The car ride was as silent as a tomb. The sounds of the city night and the flashing of streetlights were your only source of distraction. You looked through the window, not wanting to make any eye contact with the man that broke your heart. He, however, was anxious for you to spare a glance towards him. Calum’s fingers taped the steering wheel nervously, he wanted to fill the silence with something, anything. But his words came short as he realized that you weren’t the person he knew, you were a stranger sitting in his car. The clothes you were wearing, the state of drunkenness you were in, the anger behind your eyes and words, and the fact that you couldn’t even stan him touching you… that was not the Y/N he knew.

Once you reached the house, you didn’t even wait for him to turn the car off as you practically jumped out of the seat and went to open the door. Calum quickly following you, half of him afraid that you might hurt yourself, the other half afraid that you would lock him out.

He let out a breath of relief as you let him in. Remembering the last time he was here.

Seven and a half months ago:

It was a normal afternoon for the two of you. Things were going well, Calum started to be more open towards you, spending the night, cuddling and hanging out more without the promise of sleeping together afterwards and you loved it. You were having fun as well, you would walk Duke together or cook dinner or just exist together by watching a movie or listening to his favorite songs that you “absolutely needed to hear” And today was no different as you cuddled with him watching one of Netflix’s crappy teenage movies. Things were going well, or so you thought.

You were straddling him, lips melting together as the movie was long forgotten. His hands were cupping your ass, setting a slow pace with your hips as you grinded on him. You whole body was on fire, ready to burst when his lips made their way down your neck, leaving marks that you would later trace with your fingers as you try to hide them.

“Calum,” You moaned softly as he found your sweet spot under your ear, sucking and biting it like only he knew how. Your hands flew to the back of his head, fingers lost in his hair, tugging it lightly every time he met your hips with a dry thrust.

He groaned, drunk to sounds you were making. He loved the effect he had on you, almost as much as the effect you had on him. It was addictive, dangerous. He knows he shouldn’t play with fire, but what a lovely way to burn it was.

You moaned again when you felt his teeth grazing your jaw, finding their way to your lips again. The rolling of your hips was faster, more desperate than before, the friction was almost unbearable. You needed him with a passion “C-Calum…”

“Tell me what you want, baby” He said with a raspy voice, breathing onto your neck “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you”

You shuddered at his words, getting dizzy with his touch, his soft groans and his eyes filled with lust, looking straight into your soul, burning like the sun.

You grabbed his head by the sides, pulling him closer until your foreheads pressed together “You” you whispered loud enough for him to hear “I want all of you, Calum”

A couple of hours passed and you were still laying on the sofa, cuddled against the naked chest of the bassist. His fingers were caressing your sides as both of your breathings became even, coming out of your highs.

You felt infinite in his arms, safe and wanted. You wanted this to last forever, to have him only for yourself and be his everything. You craved for more intimate looks, for innocent touches while in public, you wanted to show the world how in love you were with this man that has, not only conquered your heart, but also your soul. You loved him, and you hope with your whole heart that he loves you too.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, drawing circles down your arm.

You debated on whether to tell him the truth or not. You knew Calum had always denied himself the possibility of love, stating time and again that he doesn’t really believe in it. But you’ve seen a change in him for the last few months you were together. He was more caring, more attentive, staying longer than he should and being there for you when you needed, not only for a quick fuck anymore. Maybe the chances of him loving you back were not as low as you thought.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know?” You ventured, lifting your gaze to meet his. He gave you a quizzical look, not really sure of what you were referring to “I do want all of you, Calum”

He smiled “You have me now”

“Yeah,,, but that’s not what I meant”

Taking a brave step, you pushed yourself forward and kissed him. You were done hiding the feelings you’ve been accumulating over the years, ready to let yourself go and drown on him. Only him.

Calum, however, was taken by surprise. Pulling himself from you.

“I thought we agree on not to catch feelings for each other” He said coldly. Already sitting up and looking across the room for his clothes.

You sat and watched as he got up from his spot on the couch and started to dress as fast as he could.

“Cal-“

“We agreed, Y/N. We said no string attached. Goddammit, everything was going so well, but you had to fuck it up, didn’t you?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Shattering you completely from the inside. You tried to collect your thoughts as the tears threatened to come out, but Calum kept going.

“What the hell were you thinking? What were you expecting? Huh?”

“It’s not my fault that I love you” Your voice sounded broken, weak, and you hated that. How could he be so angry? What gave him the right when you were the one who was hurting?

“Well, it’s not mine either! Is it?” Calum said with exasperation, putting on his shirt.

“I thought-“

“What? That I loved you? Y/N, I don’t love anyone! You knew that when we started this!”

“And what am I to you then?!” You matched his tone of voice, tears were already spilling down your face but you didn’t care. You were fuming “What am I, Calum? A friend? A good fuck? Huh? Was I just a toy that you could play with every time you felt needy? Have you ever thought of me as something more?”

Calum’s stare was cold as ice. He was standing in the middle of the living room, clenching his fists to either side of his body until his knuckles became white. You, on the other hand, were sitting on the couch, crying. But your eyes burned with anger as you saw how carelessly he was invalidating your feelings, throwing everything away just because he couldn’t admit his own. A silent war was being fought between the two of you, both of you so scared but with nothing left to lose.

It seemed like ages had passed before Calum spoke again, grabbing his jacket and heading towards the door.

“Was there ever something more?”

You kept staring at the nothing he left behind, the last thing you heard was the slamming of your front door, leaving you alone and completely heartbroken.

Calum followed you into the kitchen, completely avoiding the living room where he last saw you, where he left you. He felt weirdly unwelcomed as you poured yourself a glass of water without even offering one to him, maybe he was.

You drink your water slowly, thinking that that will give you time to think on what to say to him. Maybe he would start talking soon, but the only thing he does is stare at you from the other side of the kitchen island. “How did you know where I was?” You asked.

“Your friend’s stories. You may have blocked me from yours, but they haven’t”

Then, silence came over you again. It was almost like he was waiting for you to say something, just like you always did. You played this game before, you are not going to cave. You are not going to give him the satisfaction of controlling the situation here.

“I need to talk to you” He finally said, letting his shoulders relax for a bit.

“You keep saying that. But you sure haven’t done a lot of talking”

The tension in the room was so thick that it could easily be cut by a knife. You always wondered what you would say to him, what would you feel the next time you saw him and, right now, you felt like there was nothing more to say. He had no right appearing into your life again, not when you were picking yourself together after he shattered you.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“For what, exactly?” The venom in your voice was palpable, Calum knew this was not going to be easy for him “For leaving me here alone and then got yourself another person to play the ‘couple’ part? For practically calling me a whore? Or for giving me shit because of what I felt for you, knowing damn well you felt the same?”

You tilted your head, waiting for his answer, but it seems you left him speechless. Good.

Calum ran his hand through his curls, staring at the floor then back at you “I fucked up”

“That much is true”

“I’m serious, Y/N” He started walking towards you “I’m sorry for everything, you are right. You always are. I just- I didn’t know what to do! I panicked and-“

“And that’s your excuse of why you ran away instead of facing the problem?”

“I was scared! Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Calum raised his voice. He was now standing a couple of feet in front of you, so close and yet so far away from you “Y/N, I was so fucking scared. You know that I’ve never had a committed relationship before, that I never let things get too far but with you.. God, I never felt the same with anyone like that before not after you. And then you said all of those things and I- Hearing you say that you love me was too much, I couldn’t process it and instead of saying something coherent I just lashed out on you and you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry”

Calum took a step forward, softly grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. He took your silence as his cue to continue.

“You were always there for me, every time I needed you were there. No questions asked, no judging, not waiting for something in return. Always making me laugh, supporting me and letting me take a break from the messy life I have. You were the best thing in my life and I took you for granted. I hate that it has taken me this long to realize that, but I just miss you, Y/N. I miss us, so much that you can’t imagine how much it hurts. I need you with me, please let’s just go back to where we started. Or we can start over, whatever you want! But, please, baby, please don’t leave me”

And just before you know it, Calum cupped your cheek with his free hand and brought your face closer to him, crashing his lips into yours. You responded almost immediately by parting your lips and granting him more access, getting completely lost inside the kiss.

For a moment it felt like the old times, he tastes just like you remember and his touch stills makes your skin erupt with goosebumps. For years you’ve been waiting for this, for him to feel the same about you and love you without any fears or doubts, claiming that he was yours and you were his. You wanted this for so long… but why does it feel so bad?

Gathering all the courage you could manage, you push Calum away from you.

“S-stop!” You said, trembling “Stop, this isn’t right”

He gave you a confused look as he took a step back “Y/N-“

“What about your partner? Calum, did you at least break up with them before you came to find me?” The way he looked at the floor gave you all the answers you needed. You raised your hand to your forehead, suppressing the urge to cry or laugh at his antics “Oh my God”

“I was going to! I swear I just-“ He failed to find an excuse “Things were doing awful between us lately, Y/N. You have to understand, I-“

“What?!” You spat “that you had to make sure I was on board with all of this?! I am not a consolation prize, Calum. I am not a second choice!”

“Baby, I know. I-“

“Don’t call me that!”

Calum took another step back, he has never seen you so angry before.

“How dare you? How. Dare. You, Calum. Coming here after eight months! saying all that shit about how much I mean to you when it’s just bullshit”

“Y/N, it’s not-“

“I’m not fucking finish” You say raising a hand to silence him “Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve? I don’t get a single text or call or fucking smoke signal from you for eight months, knowing how I felt about you, and now suddenly you're asking for it back? Saying that you miss all that we had? We had nothing, Calum. We were nothing more than just a fuck around, you said it yourself, didn’t you? There was no ‘us’ for you to miss. You made damn sure of that. You don’t miss me, not really. You miss how I made you feel. How easy it was for me to be there for you every time you called, well, I’m tired of fixing all your problems, I ran out of every reason to do it.

And I was so stupid, you know? For believing just for a second that this could actually mean something when it never meant something to you in the first place! Did you even think about how I would feel about all of this? Of course not! Why would you? After all, I’m just Y/N! The one who always gets stepped on, why should my feelings matter? If I’m always going to be there for you and everything you ask for. Well, fuck that!”

“Y/N..” Calum tried to intervene, but you couldn’t hear him.

“You want to know what I did after you left? I cried myself to sleep for weeks, reliving every moment we had, every word you said just before you left. Waiting by the phone for hours just to see if you’d call. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I was the living incarnation of death because I realized I lived just for you. Well, not anymore. You said you were hurting, you have no idea what I went through so, I’m sorry, but I don't really care how bad it hurts. I’m done. We are done”

You walk by him and towards the front door, opening it as an invitation for him to leave. Calum, however, remained standing in your kitchen, staring at you with glossy eyes.

“Baby, please don’t do this” He said with a trembling voice “I don’t know what to do without you I’m- I’m broken”

You were still standing by the door. Unmoving and without an inch of sympathy for the man crying in front of you.

“You broke me first, Calum. But I’m all glued back together now, and I did it by myself. Hope one day you could learn to do that too”

And, for the first time in months, you saw him leave.

[loving-daisy]

Cry For Me | George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist | Cry For Me Masterlist 

Chapter 4 -  Little by Little I Fall For You

Words: 7.1K

Warnings: nosebleed, mentions of blood, scheming, pranking, angst, and fluff

--------------------

Love makes my mind give way.  

“Damn Icestone. I knew you were smart but I didn’t know you were a genius at potions! That’s why you don’t write down on your parchment whenever Snape blabbers about his potions...you’re basically a master too!” George complimented. 

The controversial human relations of Y/N Icestone hanging out with a Gryffindor, especially a Weasley, grew even more after the party held 3 weeks ago. After the stunt George pulled, the unfolded events were spread like wildfire. Rumor has it that George Weasley fancies Y/N Icestone. Apparently, Slytherin queen Y/N Icestone fancies him back. 

Not an ounce did the Slytherin gave a damn to the nosey people chasing after her tail. However, somehow she was relieved. Because the event caused the couple to hang around more frequently. After George’s sudden confession, nothing really changed in their relationship. They remained as friends. 

Except they were friends who walked each other in classes as they slightly brushed their hands against the other, friends who gave forehead and cheek kisses as a quick goodbye, and friends who stole glances at each other across the great hall. Yeah. Friends. 

George and Y/N were currently seated inside the library, the ginger actually convincing Icestone to tutor him for their upcoming O.W.L.S. To be really honest, it's not like George had convincing to do. Y/N would have agreed anyways.

But what the Slytherin didn’t expect was to catch the Gryffindor alone. And early! The Weasley twins never parted. They were always attached at the hip! However, somehow Y/N felt giddy that she gets to spend some hours alone with George. 

The Slytherin huffed to calm her rapid heartbeat so as to not make heat rise up her cheeks from the Gryffindor’s flattery. “What are you talking about?” She snapped.

George rested an elbow on their shared desk, his chin settling down on his palm as he gave the girl an astonishing look. “How ‘bout replacing Snape in the next few years, love?” 

Y/N shrugged, turning her attention back to the open book to avoid getting lost at the boy's eyes. “I’ll consider. I do love potions afterall.” 

George’s ear’s spiked up at the statement. He was really interested in knowing more about Y/N Icestone but he was having a hard time because she doesn’t really let people in. She was more of a listener. Whenever the two hang out, it’s always George who tries to keep the conversation going. He’d ask questions, get answers, but then the topic always comes back to him like a boomerang. “Well, then what do you plan after Hogwarts? Are you gonna enter the ministry? Be a healer? What’s your plan, Icestone?” 

The Slytherin gave the boy a glare. “I mean, Y/N?” 

Y/N places her quill down, turning on her sides to rest her elbow on the desk, mirroring George’s position. Humming as she had her eyes at the ceiling, briefly thinking about an answer to the question. 

“Ministry? Nope. Healer? Sounds...interesting. Like I said, I really do love potions. Maybe a job that revolves around potions?” She suggested rather to herself before sighing in defeat. 

”I’m not sure, George. My parents want to marry me into a family as soon as I get out of here.” She reasoned. 

George rolled his eyes, the hand that had his chin rested being retrieved to slap the desk annoyingly which caused Madam Pince to give him a glare. George gave her a slight bow as an apology before ranting to Y/N in a more toned down voice. “Honestly, what is with Slytherins treating Hogwarts like a mating area? Marriage? We’re just teenagers!” 

“I know!” Y/N exclaimed. 

The ginger scoffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms against his chest. “I’m gonna make sure that my children get to do whatever they want when they grow up. Marry, go enter the ministry, work at Gringotts, anything their heart desires!” He confidently proclaimed, making the Slytherin spat a quiet and short giggle. 

George immediately felt his pulse run faster with the sound. He froze in place, staring at the girl in front of him. Y/N noticed the sudden tension in their bubble, however, challenging the boy’s stare as her own darted at his. Their atmosphere became quiet. Quiet but not awkward. It was more like a comfortable silence. Just a Slytherin and a Gryffindor staring at the window’s of each other’s soul, trying to find ways to enter and be mates. Soulmates. 

A few moments after their little staring contest, Y/N decided to break the bubble by whispering a question of her own. “How ‘bout you, George? What do you plan after Hogwarts?” 

“Marry you.” George replied, not breaking his intense stare.  

Y/N felt the familiar heat rising in her cheeks which made her feel a little embarrassed. For the nth time today, her heart was beating rapidly, intense like the sound of the drums whenever there was a quidditch world cup. Trying to hide her flustered self, she spat a demanding “What?!” earning a small laugh from the boy in front of her. 

“Are you blushing?” He teased, a smirk plastered on his face as he pointed a finger at the girl’s face. “I just made your heart flutter didn’t I?” 

The girl scoffed, rolling her eyes. “No. You’re really mad. It’s just the cold.” She reasoned. It was now the turn of the ginger to roll his eyes before getting ahold of the knitted material resting on his neck, unwrapping the soft scarf, and gently snaking it around Y/N’s neck, tucking her in. 

The beating of the Slytherin’s heart went allegro. Heat crawling up her neck, to her cheeks, and to all over her face. Only this time, she failed to cover it up.  

George had a finger raised, pointing at the girl’s face, still a teasing smirk plastered across his face. “You’re even redder than before. Don’t tell me it's the cold. You like me~” He sang, earning him a smack on the arm and a glaring Y/N Icestone. 

“Shut up!” The girl demanded. 

The boy huffed, decreasing the gap between their faces before muttering “Make me.” 

Y/N decreased the gap even more causing their foreheads to touch. The couples face being inches away from meeting, the ginger feeling the girl’s hot breath against his which caused him to pull himself away and turn as red as his hair. “O-okay! Chill down Icestone!” He stuttered, feeling heat all over his body as the girl in front of him began stifling a laugh. 

George groaned, crossing his arms against his chest as he huffed. Meanwhile, Y/N gave her head a small shake before turning her attention back to the essay that she was writing, a small smile on her lips as she read through her notes before jolting some sentences down her unrolled piece of expensive parchment. George just stared at the girl in front of him, his small pout being replaced by a grin as his thoughts consumed him. 

If he was to go back in time and tell his 3-months-ago-self that he would be sitting with Slytherin’s pride and joy, Slytherin’s queen, the Icestone heir, the girl who often gave ice-cold glares to people who blocks her ways, and the girl who turned him and his twin little ginger kittens because of a miscalculated prank, he would probably think that he was mad. Not once did he ever think of hanging around with Y/N Icestone. Not once did he ever think of being friends with Y/N Icestone. Not once did he even ever think of developing feelings for Y/N Icestone. 

George, however mentally scoffed at the last thought. If he was being honest, the task given to him by Fred keeps on slipping his mind as time goes by. He constantly had to remind himself that what he and Y/N have are not truly genuine. That he was just playing this little prank and Y/N must have been playing something on him too. I mean, a Slytherin couldn’t possibly think that a Gryffindor is worthy of their friendship, right? At Least that’s what he tried to convince himself. A game, George. A game. None of this is real. 

“A joke shop.” He suddenly blurted out. 

Y/N’s ears perked up at the small and random statement. Scribbling the last words of her generated sentence before turning her attention back at the ginger. “What?” She questions, confused written all over her face. 

“Earlier, you asked me what I’m planning to do after Hogwarts. A joke shop. Me and Fred are planning to start a Joke shop.” He repeated, suddenly getting embarrassed at his confession which caused him to scratch the back of his head before turning to his still empty parchment. 

With the girl still amused at the ginger’s answer, she was speechless. I mean, she didn’t expect George to go beyond the box. She knew that Fred and George were huge pranksters but she didn’t know that this was how serious they both were with it. She was stunned. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but the Weasley twins have just earned her respect. However, far inside the back of her head, she was jealous. The twins had freedom. They could do whatever they want. She, however, had to reach her family’s expectations. 

On the other hand, George felt Y/N’s silence suffocating. Merlin, she might think it’s stupid. I mean, she said she wanted to have a career centered around in potions. I want to have a joke shop. What a joke, I am. “It’s stupid, I know but —“ 

Y/N quickly brushed her thoughts away, moving in her seat as she placed a hand at the back of George’s neck, pulling him before slamming her lips against his. 

Before George was able to return the force, the Slytherin pulled away, retrieving her hand back and staring at the boy with narrowed eyes. “What was that for?!” George asked, stunned.  

“To make you shut up.” George’s face went as red as a tomato, however, still confused by Y/N’s reaction towards his chosen career path. 

The girl glowed a big grin, pointing at the boy’s face like he did to her earlier, deciding to tease him. “Now look who’s blushing.” 

The Gryffindor let out a forced cough, swatting the Slytherin’s hand away from his face. “Shut up!” 

Y/N stifled a small laugh at George’s reaction, thinking that it was actually funny to do the teasing. So this was what George felt when he was teasing me. She thought. 

Finally getting back to her more composed self, she stared at the pouting boy gently, her eyes like a doe, innocent and genuine. “That’s amazing, George.” She complimented, making George sit up straight and have a shocked look on his face. 

“Really?!”

“Really.” 

George grinned so wide that his teeth could blind a passerby. “So is this some sort of approval that you’re going to support me and Fred’s joke shop?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Y/N asked, an eyebrow raised towards George for the what she thinks is a stupid question. 

“Because it’s stupid?” George suggested, causing Y/N’s raised brows to furrow as she crossed her arms against her chest, ready to give him a small lecture. 

“Shut up, George! It’s not stupid! If you’re really passionate about running that shop, then go for it! If it’s your dream, reach for it! Run for it and don’t stop until you get there!” She demanded. 

“But people say-“ 

“Who cares what people think, George? Are you really going to let other people’s opinion define who you are? Who you want to be? Don’t listen to them. Do whatever you want. Just ignore and go on your own way.” 

After Y/N’s little words of wisdom and affirmation, George was left speechless, completely melting from the girl’s words. George was amazed. He was glad and giddy. After numerous times of sharing his career choice to his friends, not once did he ever receive a reaction like Y/N’s. His friends would laugh it off, thinking that it was probably going to change once the twin’s reach their seventh year. His friends didn’t take him seriously. Even his own mom couldn’t believe him! 

“Wow.” George mused. Y/N looked at him, her head tilting as she examined his face. “What’s wrong?” 

“I think I just fell in love with you.” 

____________________

Fred was seated on top of his bed, rolls of parchment on his left and a box of different sweets on his right. He was monitoring him and George’s products, evaluating on which one they should release next. 

Noticing that his twin wasn’t on his own bed, he looked around the room, rolling his eyes and forcing a rather loud cough when he saw George about to grab the handle of the door. George, failing to escape quietly, faced his twin, a guilty and apologetic smile plastered around his freckled face. “Hey...Freddie. You seemed busy so I didn’t really want to disturb you…” George reasoned, earning a scoff from Fred. 

The older twin dropped the parchment he was examining to cross his arms, raising a brow towards the younger twin. “George. Piece of advice, you shouldn’t be snogging someone else if we are to go on with our plan against the ice queen.” 

“Snogging? I’m not snogging anyone.” George denied, both hands in front of him as he held out all five fingers, as a sign of defense. 

Fred rolled his eyes once again, clearly not believing George. “Oh yeah? Well then where were you last night? And the other night? And the other night too!” 

“What do you mean?” 

“What do I mean?” The older twin repeated before giving a scoff. “I’m not stupid, George. At least not THAT stupid to not notice how you have been sneaking around at night. And without telling me! Your own twin brother.” He exclaimed before placing his hands against his heart to feign an offended look, “You pain me, brother. What happened to telling each other secrets?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Fred’s hands travelled down his hips, a brow raising once again. “Playing hard to get, ey? What secret of yours should I reveal to the whole school right now? That one time when we were 5 and you accidentally-“ 

“Okay fine! But I was not snogging anyone. In fact, I was with Icestone. At the astronomy tower.” George confessed, a hand rubbing the back of his head, slightly embarrassed for revealing his and Icestone’s midnight escapades.  

“Perfect!” Fred beamed. “I don’t know why you haven’t been updating me with our scheme when we’re a team...I really had to hear most of the stuff from the school gossip but it’s good to know that we’re still right on track!” 

____________________

“Nosebleed nougat?” Y/N questioned the ginger in front of her. 

A few nights after George’s reveal of his career choice to Y/N, the Slytherin wanted to get involved as an observer. She thought that the bewitched letters that spit water at the receiver was brilliant but she knew how it worked as she was able to bewitch hers into something that throws pie at the face. She did, however, wanted to see more, as the Weasley twins were really popular for their products. Therefore, she found herself in the room of requirement with George, who had a simmering cauldron in front of him. 

“Yeah! Me and Fred's latest product. Only, I still don’t know how I’m supposed to make this. You see, Fred is more of the....plan generator. I am in charge of the execution. He’s the mastermind and I’m the...whatever you call it.” George explained. 

“You’re the executioner.” Y/N suggested, earning a snort from George. “It makes it sound like I’m the one who’s going to punish a bad person.” Realizing this, Y/N started laughing, which George found infectious that made him laugh too. 

____________________

“George, I got it! You have to crush the peppermint! Not put one whole but crush it to bits and pieces and sprinkle it around the potion!” Y/N exclaimed, quickly grabbing a peppermint and crushing it using a mortar and pestle. 

A few minutes after watching George scrunch up his nose and think in his ginger head hardly on how to create the product, Y/N felt suffocated. It was painful to watch George casually throw ingredients into the cauldron without much thinking that caused countless explosions in the room. When Y/N stood up from her seat, George felt a pang of disappointment hit him as he thought that the girl was bored and was tired of him being unable to figure things out. However, he was surprised to see Y/N take off her Slytherin robes and roll her sleeves before grabbing an ingredient and staring at it, to think deeply. 

George felt giddy once again. The only one who has helped him was his twin. No other person on earth got involved with their products when creating. 

After Y/N letting the recipe cool down in a wooden pan, she took out a bunch and cut it into bite-sized pieces. She carefully placed it on a tray before offering it to George, who looked amused by Y/N’s work. 

“It...looks like what I have here.” George stated, pointing at the tray in front of him, which caused Y/N to roll her eyes at him. “Yes but yours didn’t work at all. Your nose bled like...2 drops. Besides, yours are shaped like squares. Mine are diamonds. Bet you 10 galleons that mine would 100% work. I’m so sure of it. You have to test it out.” She demanded. 

“Me?! No way! You made it, you go test it!” George exclaimed, causing Y/N to groan. 

“No.” She remarked. 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“George-”

“Alright, alright. I bet you’re just scared that yours would malfunction and that you think that it's better to be me than you.” The ginger pronounced, moving to set in front of Y/N to grab a piece before his hand was swatted away. George, confused, was surprised to see the girl having her brows furrowed, the tray settled down on a table as she chewed on her created sweet. 

Almost immediately, blood started dripping out of her nostrils like waterfalls. Her eyes were wide and watery, tears threatening to spill from the pain she’s feeling. Turning around for privacy, she quickly covered her nose with a free hand before shoving the other side of the nougat on her mouth to stop the bleeding. 

Moving to the table to retrieve her wand, she cleaned herself up before facing George with a grin on her face, who had his mouth open from utter shock. “It worked~” Y/N sang. “I told you so!” 

For the second time this week, George was speechless. Not once did he ever expect for someone to willingly test their dangerous sweets. Not once did he ever expect for it to be a Slytherin, for it to be Y/N Icestone. 

“Wicked.” was all that came out from his mouth, shaking his head from side to side as he gave the girl an applause. The grin on Y/N’s face remained as she curtsied, muttering cocky “thank you, thank you...of course I could do it. I am Y/N Icestone afterall.” 

____________________

A few hours after creating more nosebleed nougats, George and Y/N were sprawled at the floors of the room of requirement, wrapping the sweet into its packaging as they quietly chatted. 

“Hey, Y/N. Can I try something?” George asked, dropping the packaged nougat into his box as he looked at Y/N. The girl nodded, mirroring the boy’s action before facing him with a raised brow. 

“So me and Fred have been practicing palm reading.” He announced, a small smile plastered around his face as he executed the little plan in his head. 

Y/N gave him a look of amusement. “Palm reading?!” She repeated, earning a nod from George, who had a hand offered to Y/N. The Slytherin stared at his hand then to George then to his hand then back to George again, confused written all over her face. “Why?” 

“Can I try and read yours?” George urged. Almost immediately, the Slytherin accepted, moving closer to George to let him examine her palm. 

The ginger held it softly, tracing a finger at the lines of the girl’s palm, a determined look on his face as he squinted and pretended to understand something. “Hmm….interesting” He commented. 

“What? What is it?” Y/N, who was curious, queried. 

George put Y/N's hand on her lap, turning his attention on her doe-like eyes. “It seems like you’re going to be on a date this weekend. With a ginger Gryffindor in Hogsmeade.” He professed, the girl’s curious and expecting look changing into an amused one, realizing that George was lying and that the twins were not actually practicing palm reading. 

The Slytherin put out a thinking look, looking at the ceiling as she hummed. “Hmm...Perhaps Ginny?” She said, attempting to tease George, who only ignored her. 

Intensely staring at the girl with a hopeful look, George sat. “You and me. Hogsmeade this weekend. Please?” 

Y/N beamed, nodding. “Of course, George.” 

____________________

“So?” Daphne interrogated as she stood in front of Y/N who was seated in her bed, an innocent look on her face. 

“So what?” 

“What’s the tea?” Daphne questioned ever further, trying to get information. 

Y/N glanced behind her best friend, to her fairy Mira, who was making tea for the both of them. “Uh...cherry and -” 

“Not that kind of tea! The details! The 411! Hello? Has Weasley made you all dumb now?” Daphne conveyed impatiently, eager to get actual answers from her best friend who suddenly stays out of her room to go to unknown places. At least, unknown in Daphne’s knowledge. 

“No! I am completely fine, Daphne.” Y/N suggested. The black-haired girl crossed her arms against her chest, a brow raised as she interrogated the girl in front of her. “You sure?”

“Yeah...just…” 

“What?” 

“I can’t help but think about George.” Y/N revealed, sprawling in her bed as she put an arm on top of her eyes. “He’s just...he’s amazing, really. He’s so thoughtful and he’s so smart, he’s funny, and he...treats me like a princess.”

“Everyone treats you like a queen, Icestone.” Daphne asserted, still having doubts at the Weasley’s true personality. 

“Not him! People who treat me like a queen have other intentions with me. They either want to brag to other families that they got the Icestones on their side or just want a share with our family wealth! But George….he seems like he doesn’t care for any of those, at all!” Y/N articulated, dropping her arm as she felt Lixie lay on top of her. 

“Are you sure, Y/N? I mean, don’t get me wrong but the Weasleys aren’t really on the wealthier side of the wizarding families…” Daphne carefully commented, carefully trying not to offend the Weasleys or even Y/N. 

“Exactly my point! Those other families have been wanting more wealth and power from my family. They’re so greedy! I don’t think the Weasleys are like that at all. Besides, I met George, and of course his twin, Fred. I met their lovely sister Ginny who, by the way, adores Lixie! And Ron! I met Ron! They seem kind of nice.”  

“So?” 

“What do you mean, so?” Y/N asked, confused. 

“So what are you gonna do then?” 

Y/N sat up, her shoulders slumped as she sighed. She glanced up at Daphne who was impatiently waiting for her answer, before putting on a determined look on her face. “You know what, Daph? Screw the plan. I’m just gonna go with it and see where it takes me. I’m just gonna...fall.”

With Y/N’s answer, Daphne let out a small shriek. “Fall?! For Weasley?!” 

“Yeah...fall.” Y/N repeated. “Free fall. And I’ll see where I’ll land.” 

____________________

A day before the weekend’s Hogsmeade trip, the controversial duo agreed to not have their usual midnight escapade to the astronomy tower and to just get a good night’s rest. Besides, they are to spend the whole day together tomorrow after all. 

Currently, the Weasley twins were casually seated in front of the fireplace situated in the Gryffindor common room, doodling on their piece of parchment for the next product they’re planning to create when suddenly, the entrance busts open with a small fairy followed by an enchanted trunk who was floating her. The fairy examined the Gryffindor common room in awe, foreign to the warmth as the Slytherin’s common room was usually cold. Once again scanning the room, her eyes landed to two identical redheads before making her way towards them. 

“There you are! And here I was having second doubts if I would be able to find you. Good thing you’re both tall.” The fairy rambled, flying around the twins’ face as she spoke. 

Fred, who was completely bewildered, spoke. “Uh...hi?” 

“Oh! Hi! Apologies for my rambling. I’m Mira, Ms. Icestone’s fairy. I’m here to make a delivery? Which one of you is George Weasley then?” She inquired, her eyes moving back and forth to Fred and George.  

“That would be me.” George spoke, curious as to why Y/N would send her fairy with a large trunk past 10:00 PM in the evening. 

The fairy clasped her small hands before commanding the trunk to rest itself in front of George’s feet. “Great! Here!” 

The trunk was as big as a treasure chest, jet black in color with silver linings, which made it look expensive. In fact, it really was expensive. 

George knelt on one knee, his hand tracing the top of the chest before seeking Mira for answers “What exactly is this?” 

The small flying fairy gave him a small smile, her small arms laid out as she presented the trunk to him. “I guess you’ll have to open it to find out.” She said. Suddenly, there was a soft meow near them. 

Turning to look at the cat, Mira was delighted to see the familiar cat who sleeps beside her master, who was currently resting on top of Ginny’s arms. “Lixie! I didn’t know you were here! Sneaking out of the quarters again, I see? Did you ask Y/N’s permission?” The fairy asked, moving towards the Siamese cat as she patted his head. The cat gave another meow, which caused Mira to frown and scratch her small head. “Oh...yeah I forgot to wear my pin. I can’t really understand you, Lixie…” 

Meanwhile, as George opened the trunk with Fred, he saw an emerald envelope sealed with the familiar Icestone crest in gold. He took a hold of it, opened it, only to see a card that had a brand’s logo that he never heard before. Princeton Perspicuous Potions. Turning the card around, he saw the familiar handwriting.  

George, 

For your future. 

Icestone 

George, getting more curious of the contents of the trunk, pierced down the trunk to see a brown briefcase. Pulling it out of the trunk, he set it on the floor and opened it. Only to be surprised to see a variety of ingredients for potion making. 

The older Weasley twin then commented. “All this from Icestone? Damn, George. She’s mad. I think we shouldn’t continue on with our plan of breaking her heart anymore and just let her bring you gifts like this.” 

Mira, who was gently petting Icestone’s cat in the arms of the female Weasley, snapped her head towards the direction of the older Weasley twin. Eyes about to pop out of her head as she felt shock all over her small body. The Siamese cat froze. Shocked of what has been spoken as well. 

Meanwhile, the female Weasley glared at her brother, furious as to why they didn’t dropped their stupid plan yet. The cat was angry, spitting a few loud meows before hissing at the direction of the twins. 

As if he was not paying attention earlier, the older twin was surprised to see the cat in his sisters arms, the fairy no longer in sight. “Where’d you get the cat, Ginny?” 

“None of your business.” The youngest Weasley snapped before turning her heals away from her twin brothers.  

“Feisty that little girl is.” Fred commented, shaking his head from left to right, Turning his attention back to George who was further examining the contents of the prestigious looking trunk. “What’s that?” He asked, however, getting no answer from George which made him move closer and see for himself.  

“A cauldron...and gloves? Aprons too! For the two of us!” The older twin exclaimed. Inside the trunk, a medium sized black cauldron was unwrapped from emerald green silk. Unlike what the students of Hogwarts possess, the cauldron was thicker, shinier, and much more robust. Something that looked like Y/N Icestone’s own cauldron, based on what George remembers. 

In another unwrapped silk, there laid four pairs of gloves. Two were made of the finest leather, brown in color, while the other two were made of rubber, plain white. Lastly, in the other silk, two brown leather aprons with a small printed “W” on the top right side were neatly folded.

George felt his heart melt. He couldn’t believe that Y/N Icestone would spend a ton of galleons just for him. Somehow, he suddenly felt guilty. Embarrassed of himself for numerous reasons. One of them for taking advantage of the elite Slytherin.   

“Bloody hell, mate.” Fred, in an excited manner, was unable to prevent himself from cursing. “What did I say? Don’t break up with her just yet! Imagine the gifts she’ll-“ 

“Shut up, Fred!” George demanded, starting to get wrathful of his own twin. 

Fred raised both his hands in surrender, backing away from George as he stood up, a serious and stern look on his face as he faced Fred. “Woah, woah! Calm down, dear brother. What has gotten into you?” 

“I want to stop this, Fred.” George stated, Fred immediately understanding what he was pertaining to. 

The older twin scoffed in disbelief, crossing his arms as he furrowed his brows. “This early? But she hasn’t even declared her love for you yet! I really think we should stick to our initial plan so that it could work like we planned to! How can we break her heart if you don’t even have it yet?” 

“Breaking her heart would mean mine breaking too.” 

Fred, still in disbelief but in a more softened tone and an open mind, looked at his twin with concern. “What do you mean, George?” 

____________________

On the other side of where Fred and George stood, was the sender of the gift, Y/N Icestone in her nightgown, seated on her couch in her own quarters as she read her transfiguration book. Hearing the noise of her door opening and closing, she looked up to see her personal fairy, who looked as if she lost an intense battle. The 5th year closed her book, crossing her legs as she gave Mira a small smile, greeting her. “Mira. Glad to see that you’re back. Have you successfully delivered my gift to George?” 

The fairy flew in front of Y/N’s face. This time, Y/N was able to see the troubled look on her face, as if she was having a debate inside her head. The Slytherin put her two open-palmed hands side by side, laying it in front of the fairy to motion for her to rest on it. Almost immediately, the fairy landed on top of it, kneeling as she placed her small hands on top of her thighs. 

For a moment, Mira had her head laid low, before shaking it and finally giving her master an answer. “Yes, Y/N. I have. But -” 

“That’s great!” Y/N exclaimed enthusiastically, drawing what she thinks was George’s reaction in her head. She imagined him glowing, his lips curled from ear to ear, probably boasting his gift in front of his own twin. 

With the thought consuming her head, Y/N beamed. “Do you think he liked it?” She questioned. “You saw his reaction didn’t you? You were there when he opened it, right? You HAVE to tell me everything, Mira.” The girl added. 

“Of course, Y/N. It’s wonderful! He looked really happy and thankful! Bet you my 8 sickles that he’s going to probably ask you to be his girlfriend tomorrow on your date!” Mira answered, feigning excitement before visibly frowning. The frown, however, was not seen by Y/N as she bursted up giggling for her happiness soaring, her eyes shaping into a straight line as she smiled so wide. “But I have to tell you something -” Mira, who hesitated, added. 

Immediately, Y/N’s expression turned into concern, looking softly at her fairy. “Is everything okay? What is it?” She asked. 

The fairy once again laid her head down, her eyes fixated on her small fingers as she played with them, fidgeting from nervousness and hesitation. Suddenly, she rose to her feet, flying towards Y/N’s closet before opening it to examine its contents. “I have the perfect outfit in mind!” She pronounced. 

Y/N beamed once again. “Wonderful.”

____________________

The next day, George found himself parting with his twin at the entrance of Hogwarts castle, waiting for a certain Slytherin for their first date in Hogsmeade. There he stood in brown khaki pants and brown boots, a maroon white jumper inside a maroon winter coat, and a white beanie on top of his ginger head that matches his mittens and scarf, all hand-made, knitted by his mother. Hearing the sound of heels, he turned his head towards the sound, eyeing Y/N Icestone, who was wearing her own set of winter clothing, except it was colored in black and green. Offering his arm for Y/N to grab, the duo made their way outside, walking on the snow covered floor, heading towards the small wizarding village. 

The controversial Gryffindor-Slytherin couple spent most of the day inside Zonko’s Joke Shop, George purchasing a bunch of dungbombs to replenish his personal stock, and Y/N grabbing a handful of sugar quills, one of her favorite sweets to munch on whenever the classes becomes too boring for her liking. The two were also examining the shop’s newly released products, taking some inspiration for Fred and George’s Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. 

A few hours later, the two felt like they needed to quench their thirst, so they headed to the Three Broomsticks, greeting Madam Rosmerta before placing two orders of butterbeer for them to enjoy. 

“So…” George began. 

“So…” 

“I didn’t know you had a fairy...and a cat too” The ginger stated, trying to start a conversation, remembering last night’s encounter with Y/N’s fairy. 

The girl raised a brow. “You...didn’t know I had a fairy? You’re not as observant as I thought. Mira always flies with me in the Slytherin table at the great hall. And a cat? My cat was literally with me when you accused me of ordering the Slytherin Quidditch team to defeat Gryffindor in a not so fair way.” 

George, muttered a small “...oh” before laying his head low, embarrassed at the girl’s statement. Y/N, who immediately sensed George’s defeated state, looked at him concerned, feeling bad for not filtering her words. “You know...I can speak to Lixie.” She revealed. 

The ginger looked at her, confusion written all over his face. “You...can speak to animals?!” He queried, suddenly getting interested in the topic. The girl gave a small smile before shaking her head. “Nope.” She said, popping the ‘p’. “I can speak to cats.” She added. 

George placed an elbow on their table, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. “How?” 

Y/N’s hand went to her neck, fumbling with something before showing George a silver chain necklace with a single diamond pendant hanging on it. The boy stared at it for a moment, before recalling what he and Fred were studying in their common room a few weeks ago. 

“Icestone.” George, realizing, muttered. “That’s the Icestone mark or something, right? Of course, diamonds. Stones that looked like ice.” He worded, nodding to himself. However, trying to comprehend, he still couldn’t understand how a single necklace enables her to speak to a cat. Did all the Icestones know how to speak to cats? “I still don’t understand.” He confessed. 

Still holding the necklace, Y/N pointed towards the diamond. “This, George, is the Icestone jewel. You’re actually right about that. However, I bewitched it. For it to enable me to understand what cats are trying to say. Brilliant, aren’t I?” She declared, keeping it back to the safety of her jumper as she saw their orders making its way towards them. 

“You...bewitched a necklace? Honestly, how do you do that? Isn’t that advanced magic?” George asked, stunned. Y/N took her glass of butterbeer, taking a sip before answering the question. 

“Well...when I was just a little girl...about 5 or 6, my mother and father hired private tutors for me to learn about magic early. You see, the Icestone family really takes academics seriously. We hold a title, and one single failure would tatter that name. That’s why they have a lot of expectations towards me...because I’m an only child...and apparently the next heir to our family’s wealth.” 

“When I was 12, for my birthday in spring, I told my mother that I wanted a companion with me in Hogwarts. I think you noticed how I don’t just hang around with anybody. I’m really picky on who I make friends with...because of their true intentions. So you’re lucky, George Weasley, that I befriended you.” She added, George immediately feeling the familiar pang of guilt that he had last night when he received such luxurious gifts from the girl in front of him. 

“Anyways, you know, Siamese cats often talk. They really have a lot to say! They’d tell you what they did during the day, what they’re currently feeling, and you know...stuff! And I was really frustrated that I didn’t understand Lixie. So recalling my past lessons with Mr. Princeton, my tutor, I remembered something about jewelries being encharmed and so I asked for his help and bewitched my Icestone jewel. The rest...well...is history.” Y/N said, concluding her little tale.

____________________

A few hours after continuously chit chatting at the Three Broomsticks, it was nearing sunset so the couple decided to go outside and just have fun in the snow and breathe some fresh cold air. Y/N, who was gathering snow to make large snowballs using her gloved hands, was trying to make a snowman that resembled Fred and George, planning to throw snowballs on it to tease the ginger. George, however, was the first to tease the girl, as he threw a small snowball at the girl’s face. Only, it wasn’t Y/N in a snowman form. It was really Y/N, the person. 

The Slytherin gave him her signature ice cold glare, slightly scaring the boy with the look. At first, the boy didn’t take it seriously, but when the girl spoke, he felt his heart drop. 

“You, George Weasley, is so gonna regret that!” The girl threatened before turning her heels from the ginger’s view, heading back to the castle. 

George dropped his carved snowball, concern all over his face as he marched towards Y/N, who was stomping as she climbed the snowy hill. Thinking that Y/N must have been offended, the ginger started to plead for forgiveness. “Oh c’mon, love. I’m only jo--” The Gryffindor was unable to finish his sentence as he felt someone throwing a snowball at him from behind. Confused, he turned around, seeing nobody there. 

He examined the vast space covered in white snow, looking for any signs of footprint, thinking that it could be someone he knew who was using Harry’s invisibility cloak, his own twin perhaps, but to his surprise, there was no trace at all. Suddenly, from afar, he saw a chunk of snow being lifted off the ground, carving itself into a big snowball. Narrowing his eyes to determine its cause, he was shocked to see the ball darting towards him, hitting him straight in the face. 

Feeling shivers in his body from fright, with wide eyes, he turned his attention back to his date, who was on top of the hill, grinning at him as she had her wand pointed out. Realizing that it was the girl’s scheme, he felt competitive. “Hey! That’s a foul!” George called out, brushing the snow away from his face before grabbing his own wand. However, the grip he had on it loosened, as another snowball, rather a much bigger one, hit him again. 

George heard the familiar sound come out of the girl’s mouth, her laugh, which only a few people have heard nor seen. He thought that he would be glad to be hit with a thousand more snowballs just to hear the angelic sound. 

“Y/N Icestone!” He called, lying on the snow-covered floor due to the Slytherin’s countless and merciless snowball attacks. Y/N moved closer to him, a teasing yet innocent look plastered around her face before muttering “George Weasley.” 

The sun was setting behind the girl, giving her a soft yellow glow. It illuminated her pretty doe-like eyes, shiny like honey and diamonds. Y/N’s lips were curled upwards into a small smile, the sun illuminating it as well, making it look pink and plump. 

George sat up, stared at her eyes, placing a gloved hand on her cheek, leaning closer as he pulled her into him. Tension was filled in their atmosphere as their gap decreased even further, that their foreheads touched. It was as if it wasn’t 8 degrees anymore, feeling heat all over their bodies from the shared moment they’re in. 

The Slytherin slowly closed her eyes, waiting for George to seal their lips together. She felt his hot breath against hers, feeling it’s warmth even more when the ginger muttered. “I fancy you, Y/N Icestone.” 

The girl fluttered her eyes open, seeing the boy staring intensely at her, his eyes full of love and sincerity, his face showing a look of genuineness. Y/N gave him a wide grin, wrapping her arms around his neck, sealing the gap between them after muttering “I fancy you.” 

End of Chapter 4

____________________

Tag list:  @abrunettefangirlnerd​ @gloryekaterina​ @lilypad-55449​ @memekingofwwiii​ @leovaldez37

Author’s note: Thank you so much for being patient and for actually reading my work! I really enjoy reading your comments~ Do put a lot on this one! It makes me motivated to keep on going :D 

[pascalscenarios]

HOW TO LOVE (Marcus Pike x Reader

HOW TO LOVE

Marcus Pike x Reader  

Summary: To say thank you for helping you out last night, you take Marcus out for Lunch

Warning: None

Words: 2016

Author's Note: Hello! It’s been a hot minute! Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I’ve kinda been all over the place for the last two weeks. I finally had time to actually write! I’ll try my best to go back to posting on Saturdays/Sunday like I was. 

My Whiskey fic Common Ground, will be coming up soon pretty soon. Sorry for the wait! 

Hope you all are doing well! Enjoy! ( this chapters sorta boring sorry :( )

- K

CH 1| CH 2 | CH 3

Chapter 3

You sat at the information desk as you watched Marcus from across the lobby. The Art crime team came in early this morning. You were observing him, taking notice of how he interacts with others. He was talking to another agent. His hands were on his hips laughing about something. You wanted to say thank you again for last night, but you didn’t feel like bothering him.

You must have been staring for a while because the other agent took notice. They said something making Marcus look over his shoulder, locking eyes with you.

You were caught, but you tried to play it off as best you could. You quickly make yourself look busy, picking up a pen and writing random things down on a blank piece of paper.

Your eyes slowly glaze up seeing Marcus say something to the agent and walk towards your way. You continued writing on the paper making a fake to-do list, writing whatever popped into your mind.

“Hey” he smiled standing in front of the desk.

“Hi”

“How’s your day been for far?”

“Uh...busy!” you say, not daring to look up at him, embarrassed that he saw you staring at him. You didn’t know why you were still trying to pretend, you were caught.

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure I saw you staring at me.” he joked at you, smiling.

You felt your cheeks burn. There was no doubt you were turning red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare...”

He chuckled. “It’s alright”

“It’s just...I.. uh...I wanted to say thank you again… you know for last night” you finally look at him, fiddling with your pen.

“Yeah, it was no problem. Did you make it home okay?”

“ I did, thanks to you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“How about you? You made it home alright?”

“Yeah, just fine...If something like that happens again, just let me know...actually-” He leans in close, grabbing the yellow sticky note from off your desk, and takes the pen that you were holding from your hands.

“Here” He quickly scribbles something down, peeling it off and handing it with the pen back to you.

You take it as he places the sticky note pad back on your desk.

You look down at what he wrote.

Marcus: 202-555-4275

He gave you his number.

“My cell phone number in case you need anything...Is that okay?” He was hoping he wasn’t overstepping.

“Yeah, thank you” you smiled.

“Alright, well I just wanted to tell you hello real quick. I’ll see you around.” With that, he smiles and makes his way towards the elevators.

Without thinking you called out his name “Marcus!”

He turns around looking at you. “Yeah?”

“Do you wanna maybe get lunch later today? My treat. It’s the least I could do since you helped me out last night.” you offered. You felt bad for the way you treated him and then he was willing to help you. You wanted to return the kind gesture.

He smiled brightly at you.

“Sure, I’ll swing by your desk at 12?”

“Yeah” “Okay, I’ll see you then!” With that, he heads on his way.

“Lunch date with Marcus Pike?” Laurie chimes in, sitting in her seat next to yours and we both watch him wait for the elevators.

You spin your chair back facing towards, Laurie following. You take the sticky note, folding it up, and stuffing it in your pants pocket. “It’s not a lunch date...more of a thank-you lunch. I got caught up in the rain last night and my car got towed while I was printing the packets out.”

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I should have gotten those packets printed out earlier-”

“No! It’s not your fault. Everything worked out fine actually. Marcus was still around. He gave me a ride and helped me get my car back from the impound...It was really sweet honestly.”

“See he’s not so bad after all. Give him a chance dear, get to know him.”

Although you were still a little wary of him, part of you was curious to learn more about Marcus.

…

It was noon. Marcus should be coming around soon. You were working on brainstorming ideas

“You ready?” Marcus

“Sorry, just give a few minutes.”

“No worries take your time.” He says he patiently waits for you.

You head over to the office grabbing your wallet and phone from your bag. You walked back out into the desk area placing the lunch break sign out, then walking over to the short desk door, letting yourself out.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I know this good cafe that’s not far from here, it's down a block. Not too far, we can walk.”

“Okay.”

You two head over to the exit, Marcus opening the door for you. “Thanks”

He gives you a smile as you exit, following behind you. You both made your way down the steps and onto the sidewalk. Today was a nice day. It was sunny, a blue sky with patches of clouds, and a soft wind blew.

“So” Marcus begins to say.

“How are you liking D.C. so far?” he stuffs his hands in his pocket as he walks beside you.

“It’s great. I’m from Virginia actually. My family used to drive up to D.C. all the time when I was a kid.” You smile thinking about the fond memories you have.

“Ah, so you’re used to all the hustle and bustle around here…” He chuckles.

“Sorta, It's different living here than visiting. I’m from a small town so the rush 27/7 is something I need to get used to.”

“I know what you mean, I’m originally from Texas. I worked at the FBI headquarters in Austin. I’m used to the rush but D.C. is a whole different type of face pace”

“Texas? You’re pretty far from home. How come you’re out here on the east coast?” you asked.

“In Austin, I was working on local art crime cases. I got offered a promotion to run a task force here in D.C. dealing with international art crime.”

“Wow, that's great.”

“Thanks”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Couple years now.”

“Do you miss home?”

“Yeah, I do, some aspects of it, like my friends and family. I try to visit when I can, if not then phone calls and facetime are the next best thing.” He stayed silent for a few moments. “Do you miss home?” “Not really, other than my parents. I’m glad I got out of my hometown honestly. It’s like a breath of breath air.” you sighed in relief.

“Yeah, I’m kinda glad I got out of Austin. I had a fiance back home. We were supposed to start a life out here, but she ended up leaving me for another man.”

Maybe this was what Elliot meant when he said you might have something in common with Marcus… ex issues. You felt terrible that Marcus' fiance left him for another man. It reminded you of the countless times your ex cheated on you. You knew the feeling. The feeling of hurt and betrayal.

“Marcus, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s alright. It was a while ago. I’ve moved past it.” He shrugged.

“I know, but still that must have hurt.” You say sadly.

“It did, but what happened, happened. Life moves forwards. The person you’re meant to be with will come along eventually.”

Marcus was so optimistic and helpful when it came to love, unlike you. You on the other hand were fearful and scared of it.

“Here we are.”

He says stopping in front of an old brick building. You look up reading the sign outside.

Martells’

“It’s a family-owned cafe and has been here for years. They got the best sandwiches in D.C.”

…

You were slowly warming up to Marcus, starting to grow comfortable in his presence. You two sat at a table for the past hour eating lunch and talking about random things. He asked you questions about yourself. He was genuinely interested and cared about getting to know you, your hobbies, and your passions. It was strange for you, but it felt nice to be heard and even seen in a sense. Your ex never cared or seemed interested when it came to things you were interested in or liked.

Marcus told a story about his first case as an agent. He couldn’t help but laugh at his own story, poking fun of himself. A huge smile was smeared on his face, his eyes squinting as he laughed. You liked his laugh. It was that contagious.

“Oh no!” You gasped, laughing.

“They never let me hear the end of it. To this day, they still talk about it down in Austin. My old coworkers still give me shit for it when I talk to them.” He shakes his head.

“How did you even bounce back from that?”

“You didn’t…You wait until someone makes a bigger mistake, but mine was top tier. I don’t think anyone could outdo what I did, but I managed to figure out cases which took most of the attention away” He picks up his soda, taking a sip.

His phone began to ring. He pulls it out of his pocket looking at the caller ID.

“Sorry I gotta take this”

“No, of course”

“Hello?” he answers the call. “Yeah...Mhm...Shit. Okay, I’ll be there in a few.” He hands up, stuffing the phone back in his pocket.

“I’m sorry, something came up, I have to go to the FBI building.”

“I understand. I should be going back anyway.” You looked down at your watch. You lost track of time. You went over your lunch break.

The two of you stand up, throwing your trash away and exiting the cafe.

“Alright, I guess I’ll see you,” You tell Marcus.

“I’m not going anywhere yet.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “But you have to go??? Aren't you gonna take a cab or is someone gonna pick you up”

“Yeah I gotta go, but I’m walking you back”

“Marcus, you seriously don’t need to” You were fine walking back on your own.

“No, I’m walking with you back” He insisted.

“But-” you tried to protest.

He cuts you off “-No buts, come on”

You gave up trying to argue about it and you let him walk back with him. When you reach the museum steps you both stop.

“Thank you for lunch.”

“You’re welcome. Martells was great. You weren’t kidding when you said the sandwiches were good.”

“I told you...I had a great time. Maybe we could do lunch again some other time?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Great...I’ll see you later. I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“You too, Marcus”

You lightly wave. You make your way up the steps to the top. You look over your shoulder, seeing that Marcus was still standing. Once he sees that he reaches the top, he walks away down the sidewalk back in the direction you guys came from.

You open the entrance door walking through the lobby to the information desk. You see Elliot at the desk talking to Laurie.

“Well look you came back from her overextended lunch..” Elliot teases.

“I’m so sorry, I lost track of time-” You say as you make your way to your chair.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to apologize, especially if you were on a date with Marcus Pike!”

“How’d it go?’ Laurie asked.

“First off, It wasn't a date, it was a thank-you lunch” you addressed Elliot, “second, it was fine,” you tell Laurie.

“Fine? Just fine?” Elliot gives you a look.

“Yeah…”

“That’s it?” Elliot was expecting more.

“What do you want me to say, Elliot?”

“More than just that it was fine!”

“Elliot, Marcus, and I hardly know each other. All we did was talk. That was it.” You rolled your eyes.

“What do you think about him?” Laurie asked.

“He’s...different.”

“Different bad or Different good?” Elliot raised an eyebrow at you curious as to what your response will be.

“Good...Different good.” a smile slowly crept on your face. 

TAG // @alberta-sunrise​ @spacenerdpascal​ @ryleyrooroo​ @reader-s-cantina

MT // @wifeofdindjarin @icanbeyourjedi​ @sara-alonso​ @greeneyedblondie44

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 9 - A Case

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, is it a lead?, 2k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Late the next morning, the guys stood with Julie’s family at the airport. Alex couldn’t believe that weeks of jamming together, writing music together, goofing around while Ray was filming, and dinners cooked by Julie’s aunt Victoria had all passed so quickly.

“It’s only another two months,” Julie was muttering to Luke, her eyes looking up into his with a special gentleness. Her hands gripped the top handle of her backpack with white knuckles.

“You’re gonna kill it out there,” Luke encouraged. The softness he applied was so different from what Alex usually saw, and he wasn’t looking forward to how miserable Luke was about to get in her absence. A painful thought told him it was probably similar to how he was at the moment, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. Having someone else reflect that wasn’t as nice as he thought it would be.

“Okay, kiddos, let’s get a photo!” Julie’s aunt was saying, shepherding them all together.

“Your mother asked me to take more pictures, so I’m taking all the pictures I can, sobrina,” Victoria came back.

“Tía,” Julie protested, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.

Getting in formation, Alex positioned himself in the back by default, resting his arms on the shoulders of his bandmates while Julie, Flynn, and Carlos huddled together in front. After being uncomfortably squished into Reggie for a few seconds, he got blinded momentarily with the flash and was pretty sure he’d blinked. Then again, he was sure Bobby had been giving Reggie bunny ears, Luke was off balance, and Carlos had pulled a face, so it was likely that Flynn and Julie were the only ones who looked good in the photo.

“Ay, dios,” Victoria said afterward. “Your mamá is at least going to laugh a lot when she sees these.”

“I don’t know about the rest of y’all,” Flynn said, flipping her braids over her shoulder. “But I look amazing.”

Everyone chuckled and Ray picked up his carry-on.

“Alright, one last hug for everyone and then we’ve gotta board,” he said, pulling Carlos into his side. “You be good for your tía, alright?”

“Promise!” Carlos nodded with his typical grin.

Julie was already squished by Flynn and all the guys at once.

“Okay, before I get hugged to death,” she teased. They all let go of her. “I’ll miss you guys.”

“We’ll keep in touch, though, right?” Luke asked, his eyes wells of hope.

Julie looked up at him and smiled demurely.

“If you had a phone I could reach you with, then of course,” she told him.

“Yeah,” Luke muttered, pulling a Sharpie out of his back pocket. Alex smirked at seeing him be so prepared. Luke grabbed Julie’s hand and scribbled out a number, both chuckling lightly the whole time at how over the top he was being. “There, you’ve got my number.”

“Great,” Julie said with mixed awkwardness and amusement. “I’ll try not to wash my hands before I give you a call.” With that, she shouldered her bag and waved at them before joining Ray on the plane.

Bobby wrapped an arm around Luke’s shoulders and pivoted him so they could walk out of the terminal. Flynn and Victoria followed behind them while Carlos began running ahead of the boys.

“Don’t go too far, Carlos,” Victoria warned. “We don’t want to lose you.”

“You could still find me if you wanted!” he taunted, even though he made sure he remained in sight.

“He’s right,” Flynn smirked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Victoria said. “I’m taking a break while my sister needs support.”

Alex’s interest piqued at what he overheard.

“Wait, what do you mean?” he asked, pulling back from the rest of the group.

“I mean I’m putting my job on hold to help take care of my sister,” Victoria said, slightly confused at his question.

“Yeah, but what was your job?” he insisted, trying not to sound too intense about it.

“Oh,” she laughed. “I was on a team of investigators. We worked on missing person cases, mostly. But I’m taking a sabbatical.”

A mesh of things rushed into Alex’s mind and he wasn’t sure if he dared say them out loud. He had that strange feeling again, like he’d had when he first met Willie in the diner. That exhilaration.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Victoria told him casually. “If you’re wondering about Luke, his case is through a completely different department, and I can’t do anything for or against him.”

“No, it isn’t,” he started. “What if there was evidence of a really old case? What would it take to pick it back up?”

She blinked at him.

“Well, if it’s a strong enough lead, then it would be worth looking into,” she said. “Why, do you think you know something?”

“No,” he said finally. “Well, it’s probably nothing, just a funny coincidence.”

Reggie’s words from last night echoed: sometimes a kid is just a random kid. Other arguments surfaced. There hadn’t been anything to tip him off that Willie had gone missing as a kid, it was just a poster with the same first name. Why did he get so excited about it? He gripped the strap on his fanny pack.

Victoria looked at him with mild concern.

“Okay,” she said. “Like what?”

Looking at the guys, Carlos, and Flynn in the distance, Alex breathed in nervously.

“I actually saw a poster for someone, and usually I don’t pay attention, but it matched the description of someone that I met a few weeks ago.”

“You mean, when you were in Las Vegas?”

He nodded.

“I would have to see the whole case, and reopening old ones takes a little more work. But if you truly think you know something, Alex, this is a very serious matter and I would need as much information as you could give.” She looked at him firmly.

Alex was caught on all the thoughts swirling in his mind as they entered the parking garage. He felt himself begin shaking. Maybe he was jumping the gun?

“Well, like you said, you’re taking a sabbatical. And I’m still thinking it’s a coincidence, so, I’d hate to take your focus away from Rose.”

Victoria smiled politely, although her eyes didn’t reflect it.

“Well, I appreciate that,” she told him as she made towards where Carlos and Flynn were already waiting at her car. “If you change your mind, just let me know.”

A car horn from somewhere else was heard and Alex saw the guys all waving at him to join them in the van. Taking in a deep breath, he nodded to Victoria and ran over to join his bandmates.

“Dude, what are you doing talking to Julie’s aunt?” Luke wondered.

“Nothing,” Alex responded. “She just has a cool job and I wanted to know about it.”

“You know who else has a cool job, Alex?” Luke asked. “We do. We have the coolest job. Don’t get distracted.”

Alex buckled himself in as Bobby pulled out of the garage.

“I’m not, I swear!”

Reggie just patted him on the back with his goofy smile. Alex rolled his eyes, knowing the guys meant well. He could feel that all of them were trying to be normal around him, so he couldn’t blame them for their efforts. He knew he hadn’t been as easy to deal with lately. It wasn’t anything major, but something had gotten him acting more closed off from them, and he was balancing letting the guys be aware of it and trying not to burden them with it at the same time. Maybe that’s why he wanted to connect Willie to the missing kid. It probably had made him think he could get closure after everything that had happened on the trip. He didn’t want to accept the saying ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’

He couldn’t focus on that now, though. They had a few small gigs lined up and needed to get practicing. Opening for Julie had broadened their fanbase a little and things were going to change. Alex already didn’t handle change well. If he remained focused on something else, it was only going to make matters worse.

Later that night, they were just wrapping up practice in the garage. Bobby had popped a string on his guitar and ran into the house to grab a replacement.

“Alex, you were killing it, man!” Reggie was saying.

“Nah, I was just keeping it steady,” Alex shrugged.

“Seriously!” Reggie insisted. “You’re like the Energizer bunny! You know, always in pink, keeps us going, banging the drums - ”

“You should never make that comparison again,” Alex said, holding a hand up. “But alright, I was smoking, I’ll admit it.”

“Yeah,” Luke joined in. “Keep playing like that and you’ll be the next Neil Peart.”

Bobby reentered the garage.

“Hey, Alex,” he said. “You’ve got a phone call.”

All the guys, including Alex, looked confused. 

“Okay...guess I’ll go get that,” he said, heading into Bobby’s house.

Finding the phone attached to the wall outside the kitchen, Alex picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Alex, it’s Victoria, Julie’s aunt,” he heard on the other line.

“Hi,” he answered, even more confused than before. “How did you know I would be here?”

“The number your friend gave my niece. She said that’s where you kids like to practice. I guess I called at the right time!”

He simply nodded in response, even though she couldn’t see it.

“Anyway, I wanted to know more about this person you saw.”

“Oh, okay.” He tried to remember as many details as he could while he gave them to her. He was pretty sure he could even remember the address for the hotel. Victoria just said ‘mmhmm’ in between everything, like she was writing it all down. It got Alex sort of excited, even though he remained bewildered that she was asking him for all of this information.

“Okay,” Victoria sighed after a few minutes. “I need to ask a favor of you boys.”

“Yeah, anything,” Alex said.

“Look after Carlos for a couple days? I can pay each of you.”

“Uh,” he blinked in surprise. “Yeah, cool, we can do that.”

“Perfect! And Alex, muchas gracias.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, glad to recognize at least one phrase in Spanish. “Thanks for calling.”

“No problem, kiddo. Ba-bye.” She hung up before him.

Alex slowly put the receiver back in place as he stood there processing. What had he just involved himself in? Julie’s aunt hadn’t exactly explained why she suddenly wanted to know everything about Willie. As he went back into the garage, he tried to calm his nerves.

“Well, who was it?” Luke asked as they all sat around waiting.

“Julie’s aunt,” Alex told them. “She wants us to watch Carlos for a couple of days.”

“Aw, yeah!” Reggie exclaimed, pumping his fists excitedly.

“Why didn’t she just tell me, then?” Bobby wondered.

“Because she wanted to finish the conversation that you guys so rudely interrupted before,” Alex said, only half-joking. 

Luke and Bobby shared a puzzled look, but let it slide.

“Did you tell her we have a gig in a couple days?” Luke asked.

Alex’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no, I forgot,” he said.

“He can just be our VIP,” Reggie stated, clearly unbothered about it.

“That works,” Alex said, gesturing to Reggie.

A cold realization hit him and he clenched his fist. He’d forgotten to mention more than their gig to Victoria: he also hadn’t told her about Willie’s amnesia.

Victoria looked down at the picture in her hand. It was familiar, since she had worked on that case when it first opened. One of the few that had gone unsolved in her department for a long time. She sincerely hoped she wasn’t about to make a mistake.

“So, where are you going?” Carlos asked as he chewed a mouthful of fries. They were sitting beside the wall of posters on the pier.

“I’m just checking on something,” she said vaguely. “If you want, I can bring back something for you.”

“A million dollars?”

She chuckled. “Unfortunately, I don’t think so.”

“Are you gonna be solving a case?” he queried.

Looking at the picture again, Victoria sighed and gave him a sympathetic smile. She knew he would want to help.

“I’m not sure, bendición,” she said. “But maybe.”

Checking the address she had written down and the map once again, Victoria stepped out of her car and into the hotel lobby. No one was at the front desk, so she rang the bell on the counter. A young man with dark curly hair appeared.

“Welcome to the Desert Oasis, how can I assist you?” he said cooly, and she recognized his Brazilian accent.

“Hi, I made a call this morning for a reservation? For a Victoria Mo- ”

“Ah, yes, I remember your call,” he interrupted. He looked up the room in his records and pulled out a key. “Your room will be on the second floor and then all the way down the hall to your right. Have a wonderful stay.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the key, grabbing her one bag and heading up as fast as she could.

Hermana mía, por favor me perdones, she prayed silently in the elevator. If she was going to solve one case while she was supposed to be on sabbatical, it would be this one. She remembered searching high and low for this boy eight years ago and the devastation then. Rose would surely understand this, right? Victoria knew that if their positions were swapped, Rose wouldn’t be able to help doing something similar to help the people around her. It was just a family trait, she figured.

Getting situated inside the room, she pulled out the poster she’d pulled off the wall from the pier at Santa Monica and laid it on the table. Alex had called him Willie. She hoped they were the same.

[foreverlostindreams]

So many questions

“Tony that's not what happened!” Why was he the only one pointing that out again? They all would be free to go, so much faster, if he wasn’t the only one correcting all the crazy exaggerations the man was making. “Oh come on old man, why do you have to be so boring?” Tony wasted no time shooting back, while turning around to him “We spend nearly a week following every step of the plan Fury and his little friends here developed and now I can’t point out its flaws for two minut - what's that on your arm? Did you get a tattoo to fit in with the young kids?” Talk about turning around the conversation, if he didn’t expect some kind of distraction from the man, he would have gotten a whiplash. “Tony, can we just get this over with?” “Who is changing topics now?” “What are you even talking about?” “Your arm! You think I’m joking?” he gripped sayed arm and held it up into his view and everyone else's looks followed. Just in that moment new scribbles started appearing on his skin “Oh you just turned a lot less boring, star spangled banner” Tony concluded.

A few more inappropriate comments from Tony, questions from everyone and an intermission from Bruce, who led him away to deescalate the whole situation. Steve was storming a few steps ahead of the doctor right to his lab. “I was born nearly a hundred years ago, I should not be here. How can a soulmate connection start now?” he asked his most pressing question“Soulmates links cannot be concluded under any kind of logic, Captain. Some people have it, some don’t. Sometimes they show up early, sometimes later in life, sometimes it never does. And it might have started earlier for you as well, a lot of people draw and scribble a lot on their skin in childhood and teenage years. Hoping of course that they would get a reaction, if this was a person fitting your age now, not counting your - um time-out, that would have been approximately fifteen to five years ago, when you were - hm unable to notice it or return that favour.” Banner concluded. “But I shouldn't be alive! That person would have lived without a soulmate!” Steve seemed furious at that thought as Bruce noticed not without smiling a little. “Like I said, not everybody has a soulmate Captain. There were a lot more in your time but now, less and less people in each generation have one. Science is still trying to find out reasons for that, but not having one doesn’t mean people lead an unhappy life. Your person probably still believes themself one of those people.” he pointed out. “Let's also not get started on the discussion of what higher power or fate could be behind this, that would explain knowing you would wake up again in time, to be a part of this person's life.” 

“So what is the Text?” Banner asked, when they were finally in the lab “Kiyosaki, rdpd, 2014” Steve read aloud, not grasping any kind of meaning from it “Jarvis?” “Rdpd is most commonly used as an abbreviation for the book Rich dad, poor dad by Robert T. Kiyosaki advised as lecture in most colleges for courses of finances.” “So a college student” Barner concluded “if we assume that he or she must be in a lecture right now, we can cross off all colleges that do not teach a fitting course or are in a fitting time zone. How many would that be, Jarvis?” “There are 5300 Colleges in the United states, in your chosen parameters are 1134 of those.” Steve's head was swimming, was this how he was supposed to find out about his soulmate? He could still just reply with a pen on his skin and hope to not scare off the person on the other end. But as Banner had mentioned, he had been quiet for years, what if his person had built a good life for themselves without him? Had he a right to just barge in? Being his soulmate would come with a lot of safety problems and needed changes for that person, would he want that? 

Banner noticed his wandering mind. “If you want, I can continue searching without you.” he offered “If we find something, I will write it down for you and put it in an envelope. Then you can decide when you want to know. But Shield would need to know, there are certain protocols and measures for every soulmate of shield agents, if they know about us or not.” “Are there more out there, who don’t know, their soulmate is not answering, because he or she is a special agent?” “Unfortunately, yes. Like I said, I am not the biggest believer in fate, but I do believe, since soulmates exist, you would not be connected to somebody unable to handle you and your life. And making that decision for the both of you is quite the choice.” He very quickly noticed that he stuck his finger directly where it hurts and paddled back “Still, it is your life and your soulmate Captain, I am just a scientist, not a guru for the best life decisions. I mean, I turn green every once in a while.”

“Captain, Mr. Stark is calling a spontaneous meeting right now” Friday alerted him about a week of him wrecking his brain about the decision without a conclusion later. “Do we have a mission?” he asked, looking up from his sketches, ready to take off in seconds, only to relax when the AI denied. “It seems Mr. Stark has a visitor, he is excited to introduce to everyone.” Steve knew what was going on, before he even stood up, the white envelope Bruce handed him four days ago burned in the back of his mind and his anger boiled up the whole way to Tony's favourite of the meeting rooms in the compound. 

“You had no right!” he pressed out in between his teeth the second he saw the man, trying to calm his need to scream at him. “I know you people who are as old as dirt feel like you have time, but you don’t so I was doing you a favor really capsicle.” he answered totally unbothered by his anger as always. “I would like to take this moment to say ‘ I had nothing to do with this, he hacked my user’ “ Bruce piped up and threw Steve a look full of apologie and pity. Nats look on the other hand was on Tony the whole time and made pretty clear that she as well had not known about this beforehand and was also not in favor with his doing. “Well we always knew he was an ass, but who would have thought, he was this overreaching.” she commented, voice full of poison. “Oh come on, as if you all were not interested who on earth could be the perfect match for our golden boy here.” he argued back “Being curious has nothing to do with what you did!” Even Pepper argued for Steve's side and while Tony threw his hands dramatically in the air, Steve realised something else. 

“So you all have seen her already” “Finally you're focussing on the important things here, capsicle. Your soulmate is quite the view and from what her grades can say about intelligence, she -” “Will. You. Shut. Up!” Pepper finally hit him. “This has nothing to do with you or your opinions, you shouldn’t even be here.” and as if speaking those words out loud made her realise, she repeated “We all shouldn’t in fact.” She straintend her jacket, threw her soulmate another angry look and was back to business, hurrying everyone along, before Steve could vocalise his gratitude. 

Finally alone he took a couple of deep breaths, before he felt like mostly himself again only to realise, he didn’t even know with what explanation Tony invited her here. Did she know, or was it all hidden behind some kind of white lie? How was he supposed to go about  this? How not to offend her if she knew and he seemed to taken aback and how not to overwhelm her, if she didn’t know? When he entered the room it was without a plan, but knowing letting her wait any longer would definitely be insulting. 

When their eyes met, he could not stop himself from agreeing with Tony, she was quite beautiful. “Hi, I’m Steve.” he clumsily started. “I’m sorry you had to wait - and also for anything else my friends or colleagues might have said to you.” he added after a second thought. She grinned back at him “I’m Y/N and don’t worry, I know the type. If my friends would have managed to figure out it was you, they would have stormed in here years ago.” Steve felt floored at her ease with the whole situation. “We are quite well equipped against intrusion” he heard himself say, before his mind even caught up. She laughed at that. “Against equipped fighters maybe, but the ways determined college students find? I don’t think anyone can plan for all those random and stupid ideas.” Steve felt himself starting to grin back at her, without really planning to. She was amazing. “Would you like to go to dinner with me? I fear we have quite a few cameras in here and a lot of noisy people.” he proposed, somewhere in the back of his mind still trying to figure out how to best keep her safe, while all the rest of him just seemed too busy admiring her. “I would love to. I have heard quite a few stories about you, that I need clarification on and even more questions.” And for the first time, Steve couldn’t wait to answer all of them and ask even more himself. 

[sakurablossomcreamlatte]

tiny giants made of tinier giants

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Relationships: Dipper Pines & Ford Pines

Characters: Dipper Pines, Ford Pines, Stan Pines (mentioned), Mabel Pines (mentioned)

Words: 3,596

Summary: “It’s two AM, and Ford has a visitor.” 

[AO3]

why would I work on any of my own WIPs or try and get my life together when I could write oneshots

(this work was inspired by this super sweet comic by @rosesanddoodl3s! I hope you don’t mind, I just really loved it and had to write some of my feels out)

Ford’s been back in his own world for approximately thirty-two hours, and yet it’s almost like he never left - sitting at his desk in his old room, scribbling in the back of his second journal and muttering hissed curses between his teeth. The Oregon sky sits inky and indigo outside the panes of his window, studded with stars, and despite their apathetic, twinkling benevolence Ford can’t shake the feeling that they’re watching him. 

It’s not something he can just let go of after thirty years on the run between dimensions. 

On top of snatching away his chance to finally take out that demon once and for all, mercilessly and swiftly as he was powerless to stop it - his idiot brother’s activation of the portal literally created an interdimensional rift. He spent most of the day figuring out a way to contain it... and subsequently wrestling the slippery splashes of interdimensional matter around the portal room into the glass orb he was able to create. At least he’s in good enough shape to do so, despite his age - not that Stan would have a clue, if the beer gut he’s developed over the years is anything to go by. 

He crosses out one equation and scribbles another, tugging at his hair in frustration. All that stands between Bill and his goals now is a veil of worryingly breakable glass. 

There has to be something else he can use to protect everyone until he can find something stronger. Project Mentem, maybe? Would the machine still even work? It would probably need some level of repair after thirty years of disuse - not that he’d even used it successfully the first time round. 

A tentative knock on the door jolts him from the letters and numbers that are starting to spin on the pages in front of his eyes, and he really hopes it’s not Stan - but then again, Stan’s not really the type to knock either. Brow creasing, Ford turns to face the door. “Yes?” 

The door slowly creaks open, and he can’t stop himself from raising an eyebrow at the sight of the boy twin - Dipper, that’s it - hovering apprehensively in the doorway, clutching what looks like the comforter from his bed. “Um, Great-Uncle Ford?” 

“Dipper?” Ford frowns again, closing the journal and setting his pen down as he checks his watch. It’s after two AM. “What are you doing up?” 

Dipper hesitantly crosses the threshold, and as he steps into the dim light of the room Ford notices that his eyes are red - and a little puffy. “I, uh…” he averts his gaze, biting his lip, “...couldn’t sleep.” 

“I… see.” Ford can feel his heart sink a little. Dipper and Mabel were certainly a lot to take in upon his arrival back in this dimension, considering the thought of descendants hadn’t even crossed his mind - but they seemed assured of themselves, despite the way Dipper had almost fainted and/or thrown up upon discovering that yes, Ford was the one who wrote the journal he was clutching in his hands. The bright-eyed expression of hope and determination the boy had turned to him with as he’d pulled the memory eraser gun from his rucksack was a stark contrast to the one on his face now, and Ford’s struck out of nowhere with a sudden urge to protect him - his sister, too. He’s only known them for a day and he already knows he never wants to see them cry. Ever. 

Stan might want him to stay away from them, but he certainly can’t stop him from caring about them - and if Dipper’s down here of his own volition, Ford certainly won’t push him away. “Did you have a bad dream?” 

“Something like that.” Dipper hugs the comforter to himself a little tighter, and Ford makes a decision, rising from his desk and crossing the room to take a seat on the couch. The kid’s wide-eyed gaze follows him, and Ford simply pats the cushion next to him as an invitation. 

Dipper comes to sit on the couch next to him, tugging the worn, patched blanket around his shoulders. There’s still something hesitant in the movements of his limbs, like he’s holding himself back, and something twinges uncomfortably within Ford’s chest. He doesn’t want either of the children to feel like that around him - but he just wants to protect them from the dangers Stan’s opened their world up to, regardless of how inadvertent it might have been, and for that he probably needs to keep his distance. Even now he feels like he’s breaking some arbitrary rule, with Dipper perched on the couch at his side - before a wave of indignation washes it away. It’s Ford’s house, damn it, not Stan’s - despite what he may have told them… and everyone else in this town.  

“Any reason you came to me rather than Stan…?” Ford ventures. He’s absolutely not against it - if anything, he feels strangely honoured that one of the kids came to him seemingly looking for comfort - but considering how long they’ve known him against how long they’ve known Stan, he has to wonder why. Dipper simply stares at his socked feet instead. 

Were ten year olds always this… small? Both the boy and his sister barely come up to Ford’s - and Stan’s - elbows. Are they just short for their age? What were we like compared to Dad? 

He wonders if it’s a good thing that he’s struggling to remember. 

“I….” Dipper starts, and then seemingly gives up on himself, thin shoulders slumping with a sigh. “Sorry. I just - I dunno. I don’t think Grunkle Stan’s… mad at me, as such, but I kind of… said some things to him yesterday.” He averts his eyes, curling a little further in on himself. 

Of course. Ford’s still smarting at the idea that his brother claimed his name as his own (and almost certainly amassed an impressive criminal record under it). Stan obviously cares about these kids - that part’s so glaringly obvious that even Ford can’t deny it - but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s essentially betrayed them. 

“Well,” Ford concedes, “it’s… a lot to take in. I think you’re handling it better than I might have at the age of ten.”

Dipper looks up at him, stricken. “I’m twelve.”  

Ford makes a mental note to correct his journal entry on the boy later. “I see. My apologies.” 

His great-nephew (and that feels so bizarre to think, knowing that less than forty-eight hours ago he wasn’t even aware of the kid’s existence) just deflates even further. “It’s... okay, I guess. I know I’m short.” He pulls his knees up to his chest. “I mean, it’s just really annoying right now. Grunkle Stan’s really tall - and so are you, actually - and so’s my dad. I guess I can’t be short forever, but… I dunno.” 

Right, their father. Shermie’s boy - David. 

“How is Shermie, anyway?” Ford ventures, and no sooner have the words left his mouth than he wishes he hadn’t asked - because at the mention of their elder brother’s name Stan’s face immediately falls, any light that might have remained leaving his eyes, and that tells Ford pretty much everything he needs to know. 

“What’s your father like?” 

The question leaves Ford’s lips before he even really has the time to think about how random it is. He hasn’t even seen David since… what, Thanksgiving in third year of college? His nephew was barely four or five years old at that point, a rambunctious child with big brown eyes and a mop of chestnut-coloured curls who gleefully ran around their parents’ apartment while Shermie chased after him, throwing out frantic, stuttered apologies in their dad’s direction. It’s crossed Ford’s mind every now and then while jumping between dimensions, but he’s always pushed it away just as quickly, not wanting to dwell on the pain of everything else he threw away the second he shook Bill’s hand. 

Dipper’s seemingly just as taken aback by the question as Ford is, and when he lifts his head to look up at him, brown eyes wide beneath his fluffy chestnut fringe, for a second it’s almost like he’s looking at a carbon copy of David himself… although he thankfully hasn’t inherited the infamous Pines nose. “My dad?” 

“Ah - yes.” Ford coughs, averts his own eyes. “I suppose - well, Mom babysat for Shermie sometimes.” 

Dipper’s brow lifts a little in the light of recognition, before furrowing again in thought. “He’s…” he trails off, visibly searching for the right adjective. “Nice. Kinda goofy, I guess. Mom always says that’s where Mabel gets it from.” 

“What does he do?” Ford presses. 

“He’s a software programmer.” Dipper’s shoulders relax, if only by a fraction. “And Mom’s a lawyer.” 

“A software programmer, huh?” A memory of Fiddleford holding up a laptop prototype with bright, shining eyes briefly floats to the surface, and a stinging pang of regret bounces painfully against the inside of Ford’s ribcage, and he tries to focus on the child sitting next to him - family that he didn’t even know he had. It’s more than he expected, and more than he could have asked for. “Does he work a lot?” 

“Yeah,” Dipper answers, kicking his feet under the seat of the couch. “He has his own business, but he works from home a couple of days a week - and he tries cooking dinner sometimes, but he’s not great at it.” His shoulders twitch beneath his blanket, the shadow of a laugh bubbling up. “One time he made us spaghetti sauce with ramen noodles - it was so gross. When Mom got home we ended up ordering Chinese food instead.”

Ford has to chuckle at that. “You know Shermie was never a great cook, either.” 

Dipper relaxes a little more, and his shoulder bumps against Ford’s elbow as he leans a tiny bit closer. “I don’t remember a whole lot about Grandpa Shermie,” he admits, hesitantly. “Mom always says he really loved us, though. And Dad always took us to the planetarium on our birthday, because he said that was his favourite thing to do with his dad when he was a kid.” 

And even if Ford’s trying to stave off his own looming anxiety about the very real possibility of the world as they know it ending, there’s something in his nephew’s words that lifts his own battle-scarred heart by just a touch. Maybe it’s knowing now that for all he left behind him when he hightailed it out of Backupsmore with two PhDs and a fat research grant cheque, back home Shermie turned out to be a good man, bringing the happy, excitable child Ford once knew as his nephew along that path with him. Seeing that David apparently grew up to be a good man himself, if the little smile that tugs at the corner of Dipper’s mouth when he talks about his parents is anything to go by. 

At least someone in this family of ours turned out to be remotely functional. 

Ford’s next question emerges a little more easily, the distance between them slowly beginning to close in fractional increments. “Did they give you your nickname?” 

The question had already arisen when Stan was catching him up on the family history - the name Mabel is a little old-fashioned, although sweet in its charm, but surely nobody would ever call their child Dipper legitimately? - and Stan had simply shrugged and grunted something along the lines of, ‘Look at the little goofus’s forehead. It’s like someone spilled hot sauce on his face.’ 

He would, if the kid would stop vibrating with anxiety/pen clicks long enough to sit still. Not that it was even necessary, with the carefully inked sketch - which, sure enough, was a dead ringer for the Big Dipper - he’d found flipping through the third journal under the entry titled, ‘Your new author!’. 

He’s ten - no, twelve. Ford won’t hold it against him. 

Back in the present, Dipper nods. “Dad said Grandpa pointed it out to him when we were little and then he couldn’t unsee it, and then they both started calling me Dipper and it just… stuck.” He hugs his knees. “I feel like it fits. My real name’s kind of dumb, anyway.” 

There’s probably not much that could be dumber than naming a pair of twins Stanford and Stanley, but Ford decides not to push it. “Well, it’s certainly unique.” 

Dipper shrugs and averts his gaze, and a silence falls between them… but after a few moments, there’s a soft weight against Ford’s arm as he leans against him. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts his arm to rest it around the boy’s shoulders. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s expecting - but Dipper doesn’t jolt, or flinch away. Instead, he simply shifts to rest his head against Ford’s chest with a soft exhale. 

That in itself can only be a testament to the kind of fathers Shermie and David turned out to be. When Mabel threw her little sweater-clad arms around his neck earlier that night and chirped, “goodnight, Grunkle Ford!”, the wave of longing and affection that surged through his chest was so powerful that it both ached and almost took him off his feet at the same time. 

He’d forgotten what love - and the affection that goes hand in hand with it - felt like, and in one simple hug from a niece he didn’t even know he had, it had come rushing back with all the force of a tsunami. These kids - Mabel especially - are so strangely warm and open, with each other, and with Stan and that young man - what was his name, Zeus? no, Soos - and now with Ford himself, too. And Dipper could barely make eye contact or stop shaking, but in the middle of the night, worn down by exhaustion - and he hasn’t missed the shadows under the boy’s eyes, either - he’s far more subdued, seemingly removed from the stammering, gagging ball of pen-clicking anxiety that had first greeted him after he’d set foot back in this world. 

Either way, they’re certainly a far cry from himself and Stan. 

Belatedly, Ford realises that his eyes are stinging a little, and he awkwardly clears his throat. Dipper doesn’t say anything. Beneath his fringe, his eyes are distant, and Ford can only wonder what he’s thinking. 

“Is…” he winces at how his own voice breaks the silence, but they’ve already crossed this line. He doesn’t even know what it means to be an uncle, but if something’s bothering the kid, he wants to help. “Is there... another reason you can’t sleep, Dipper?” 

This town’s fascinating, but it’s also dangerous, and in those six years he lived here Ford had more than his fair share of close shaves. Dipper’s thin arms are covered by his blanket right now, but during the day, the thin lines and dots of scars and scrapes that traverse his skin haven’t escaped Ford’s attention. 

Ford can only wonder what he’s seen, and he hopes to God it’s not the same thing that sparked his own suffocating paranoia. 

He can feel Dipper’s shoulders stiffen beneath his forearm, and for a few long moments, another silence descends. 

When Dipper does answer, his voice is quiet, partially muffled by his comforter. “S-sometimes it’s just…” he trails off, shifting slightly against Ford’s chest. “Difficult.” 

It doesn’t exactly provide much of an explanation, and Ford sighs. It was probably a step too far to expect Dipper to open up right away - if anything, he’s grateful for the way he’s here with him now, even if it’s explicitly against Stan’s wishes. 

Dipper’s voice breaks the quiet once again. “Anyway… I wanna know more about you. Like…” he trails off, searching. “What were you and Grunkle Stan like when you were twelve?” 

A laugh bubbles up in Ford’s chest at the innocence of the question. It’s a lifetime ago now, like Stan had said. Before they thought anything could ever break them apart, when they were just two identical best friends - brothers, even - with a dream of sailing away from their shitty little town. 

“Didn’t Stan already tell you? He was a troublemaker and I was… well, a nerd, I suppose.” 

Dipper leans against his side, relaxing once again - and it’s a relief. If they have to do this on his terms, that’s fine. Hopefully the kid might open up to him when he’s ready, whenever that may be. “I mean… we heard Stan’s side of the story. I guess I wanted to hear yours.” 

Ford casts his mind back. “Well, Stan wasn’t wrong - he was a troublemaker.” A chuckle. “But then again, I suppose I wasn’t entirely innocent either…” 

The stories flow from him more easily than he would expect them to - for some reason, it doesn’t hurt as much to tell Dipper, who listens, giggles here and there, occasionally interjects with some quip or aside that shows Ford that for all that’s happened in the last forty or fifty years, there are parts of his brother that haven’t necessarily changed. With each story he recalls, hazy days gone by that leave his lips as a shared memory, Dipper slumps a little further into his lap - and in some complete paradox, the heavier the kid rests against him, the lighter his heart feels. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind as he’s regaling Dipper with the tale of Fiddleford’s disastrous attempt at a college open mic night - guest starring that godforsaken banjo - he wonders if it might be worth revising the entry he wrote about the kid in the third journal. 

It’s still painful to think about Fiddleford, though, and Ford hopes that one day he’ll get the chance to apologise. 

Even so, it still comes back to Stan. It often does. And for some reason, it’s easier to separate them in his mind - Stanley, the goofy, scrappy little smartass with half his front teeth missing who always pulled Ford up by his armpits when bullies knocked him down and tried to pin most of his mishaps on Shanklin the possum, and Stan, the exhausted, hollow-eyed stranger in a hooded jacket who showed up on his doorstep on that fateful day in 1982… who’s evidently reinvented himself as the man they now know as Stanford Pines, with a fez perched atop his now-grey hair and lies and blatant falsehoods falling from his lips. 

“It’s kind of crazy imagining Grunkle Stan as a kid,” Dipper murmurs. He looks like he’s having a progressively harder time trying to keep his eyes open. “Like… Mabel and I only ever knew him as this weird old scam artist guy.” 

Ford can feel the smile tug at his lips. Dipper and Mabel are going to grow up one day, too, and he hopes he’ll be able to witness it. “Well, we were all children once.”

It’s like he’s taking a back seat to himself as he tells Dipper these stories from another life. If he thinks about Stan and what they’ve become, it hurts - even if it’s dulled into a detached ache over the years, the occasional wave comes, raw and fresh, and it’s sharp like a knife. If he thinks about Stanley, it still hurts - but the edges are softened by the miasma that nostalgia casts over everything, and that’s not quite as painful. At least back then, he knew some sort of happiness, and at least he can vaguely recall what it felt like. 

He can’t stop the chuckle that escapes him at the memory of Stan trying to convince their mother that the person who set off the whole school’s sprinklers and took off into the distance shouting ‘that’s how Stan Pines does it, suckers!’ was someone trying to frame him, and the way she’d absolutely eviscerated him in response. 

“...and that was the last time Stanley ever lied to our mom.” 

There’s no response from Dipper this time - no giggle, or eye-roll, or dry quip - and he looks down to see that the kid’s drifted off in his lap, head pillowed against Ford’s thigh as he breathes, slow and soft. 

Well. In fairness, that was pretty much what he came down here for. Objective achieved… more or less. 

Tentatively, he runs his hand over Dipper’s hair. It’s a complete bird’s nest - he obviously doesn’t brush it that often - but it’s thick and fluffy, just like David’s had been as a child. The heavy curtain of Mabel’s long tresses that had hit him in the face when she’d hugged him had been more or less the same. 

Twins run in the family, he’d written in the journal. It’s a comforting thought - if anything, knowing that they hopefully won’t turn out like him and Stan. 

He hadn’t wanted to throw it away - neither of them had, but Stan had no idea what he was dealing with, and if he had any inkling of just how dangerous the forces he was messing with were, most likely didn’t care. Irresponsible and knuckleheaded to a fault, from childhood to now - and honestly, probably to eternity. 

As a scientist, Ford is used to determining things by probability and likelihood. Each situation has a predetermined number of potential outcomes… but sometimes, something greater - fate, the universe - has a hand in things. And maybe this time, she’s granted Ford a second chance of sorts. There’s a second generation of Pines twins, and they might have the potential to be better than he and Stan ever were. 

“Alright, my boy,” he mutters to the one currently sleeping in his lap. “Let’s get you back into your own bed before Stan notices.”

[wazzupmrstark]

breaking curfew [part eight] || th x reader

A/N: day idk of quarantine. time is meaningless. 

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, prescription drugs, alcohol mention, anxiety mention

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter​ + CALM by 5sos

Word Count: 2.4k

Series Masterlist

You’ve only been x-rayed twice in your entire life- not counting regular trips to the dentist- before now. Once when you thought you broke your ankle, (but it was really just sprained) and another time when you had pneumonia. Still, neither of those times had been quite as intense as this. Maybe that was because your mom wasn’t with you like she had been before. Or maybe it was because Tom, the boy who was pretending to be your boyfriend, the one that had just undressed you minutes ago, was standing just a few feet away behind the glass. Or in all honesty, maybe it was because you were hopped up on codeine, but who could say?

The x-ray technician draped the lead apron over you and told you to hold your breath while she ran back to operate the machine. She had you lay in a few different positions and had a nurse help her move your arm gingerly each time to lessen the strain on your end. 

It was a painful process, but they moved as fast as they could so that you were back in your room within a few minutes. 

“How’re you feeling?” Tom asked as he sat back in the plastic chair by your bedside. 

“Kinda dizzy.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t walk five steps without running into a wall, I practically had to carry you back here.”

“Fuck off!”

“Glad the pain meds haven’t completely altered your personality,” he said, shaking his head. 

“I feel a little nauseous too,” you added and rolled your neck uncomfortably.

Tom sat up a little more, eyebrows raised in concern. “Are you going to throw up? Do I need to get someone?”

“It’s probably fine,” you shrugged.

“I don’t know about that...  you took those meds on an empty stomach- and that’s probably why you’re smashed to hell too.”

“It’s fiiine, Tom.” You yawned. “I just wanna nap.”

He chuckled and pulled the sheet that had been gathered around your waist up to your shoulders and laid it gently over them. 

“That seems like a good idea.”

“Okay, good night.”

“Good night, y/n.”

It felt like you blinked and you were being shaken awake again. You groaned and attempted to sit up on your elbows, cursing when you tried to put pressure on your injured arm.

“Easy, easy,” Tom said, helping you lay back down on your back. “Um, the doctor’s here, babe.”

“Babe?” you wondered aloud, still clearly disoriented as fuck. 

“Yeah, love. He’s here to tell you about your arm.”

Tom was pretending to be your boyfriend. Right. That made a lot more sense. Why else would he call you babe? 

The doctor introduced himself to you and Tom and talked briefly about what he was looking for in the x-rays as he set them up in the light display for you both to see. 

“So the bad news is that your arm is broken,” he explained, and you felt your heart sink even though you knew it was coming. “But the good news is that it’s just a minor fracture- barely visible on your radius there. It’ll only take about four to six weeks to heal in a cast, and you’ll be good as new.”

You bit your bottom lip wilted visibly. “Six weeks? The summer will be over by then!”

“It shouldn’t be an issue, unless you’re involved in a super active sport or-”

“We’re camp counselors-” Tom said abruptly, irritation at the edge of his voice.

“Oh, yes well you might run into some complications, but you should still be able to do most everything. Even with a cast.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” he nodded. “I’ll print out a couple pamphlets and some other literature for you on how to care for your arm and cast and etcetera, and you should be fine.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“I’ll also prescribe you some pain killers. Probably not as strong as the codeine they gave you earlier, but a lighter dosage for a few days before switching to extra-strength ibuprofen might help you get back into the swing of things.”

You just nodded, not really understanding any of the words he was saying. You hoped Tom absorbed more of it than you did because you were honestly checked the fuck out. 

“I’m just going to grab the plaster and gauze for your cast and I’ll be right back. What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange,” you said without a second thought.

Tom waited until the doctor was gone before giving you a confused look. “Why’d you say that?”

You gave him the same look back. “What do you mean?”

“Orange isn’t your favorite color.”

“Says who?”

“Your favorite color’s always been green.”

“H-how’d you know that?”

“You really think I don’t remember you cheating your way onto the green team at mega relay every summer?”

“I would not cheat!” you argued.

“You’re supposed to pick a headband out of the box randomly! I don’t think peeking through your fingers and conveniently grabbing a green one every single time counts as random.”

“Well you don’t have any evidence, so good luck proving that in court.”

Tom held his hands up in surrender. “Damn, who said anything about court?”

“I just like being prepared.”

“But wait, why did you get orange?”

You shook your head absentmindedly and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s Theo’s favorite color. I thought she’d like it.” 

“That’s... really sweet.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Holland. I can be nice sometimes.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you.” 

Before you could say anything snarky back the doctor came back in with a written prescription and everything he needed to set and wrap your arm. You tensed and looked away as he set to work on it, using an alcoholic wipe to sanitize your hand and forearm before wrapping it.  

“You can hold her other hand if you want, Tom,” the doctor said, probably thinking that would reassure you, even though in reality it made you way more anxious. 

You had reached for his hand just a few minutes ago, unprompted. But in your defense, you were very out of it. You were still out of it now, but the thought doing it again was ironically making your hands sweat. You guys didn’t really know each other... like that, and even though it was just pretend it felt weirdly intimate.You wouldn’t blame him if he stayed put where he was.

But to your surprise, Tom didn’t even hesitate before grabbing your hand and interlocking his fingers with yours. His palm was a little clammy too, which was a relief. You didn’t want to be the only one with a sweaty hand and gross him out or something, even if you were the one in agonizing pain. 

You squeezed tight as your arm was moved into position for the cast. It hurt like a bitch and for a hot second the nausea returned and you thought you might pass out. 

“So, how did you guys meet?” the doctor asked casually as he worked. “Tom, if I’m not mistaken you’re English? And y/n you’re not? How did that play out?”

“We met at work,” Tom said without missing a beat. 

You were kind of taken aback by how seriously he was taking his role. It really didn’t matter if he was actually your boyfriend or not, it’s not like he’d get kicked out if they found out he wasn’t. 

“At the summer camp?”

“Yeah, it’s really well-known for its international program. We get a lot of campers from all over.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Are you long distance during the year then?”

You and Tom traded looks with each other. Why did you have to get stuck with the chattiest orthopedic surgeon ever? Your fucking luck.

“We are, yeah.” Tom answered for you both again. “We trade off who visits who. We’ve both been in school so we don’t get to see each other very often, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Summers must be nice then, no? You get to see each other all the time.”

He forced a chuckle. “You have no idea.”

-

The girls practically tackled you the second you got back to camp, and you were immediately bombarded with a chorus of “can I sign it? can I sign it?” from every single one of them. 

“You can all sign it!” you promised. “After you brush your teeth!”

You had never seen them so excited to get ready for bed ever. They were almost giddy about it. 

Your arm was still pretty sore, and the pills were starting to wear off, but you were glad to finally be back in your cabin. You couldn’t wait to knock the heck out and sleep for as long as possible. 

The ride back from the emergency room had been much more peaceful than the ride there. Zendaya was a little pissed you’d disappeared from the waiting room without a word, she was mostly just glad you were getting to go home and rest. You ate your fries and chicken nuggets in the car, and accidentally ended up dozing off on Tom a few times, only to be jostled awake by bumps in the road. 

And now that the day was winding down you could relax and spend some time with your campers. 

“Me first!” Theo exclaimed, racing up to you with toothpaste still in her mouth. You laughed as she scribbled her name in jagged letters across your arm, putting a smiley face in the O. “We have the same favorite color!”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her so you just laughed and nodded. “Now, go spit your toothpaste out before you choke!”

May was next. She signed her name right where your pinky was, almost as if she was trying to hide it. Amalia wrote her name in cursive just above your elbow, Grace signed her name with a heart at the end right next to Amalia’s, and Eva scrawled hers on top of your hand at the edge of your cast. 

You admired the girls’ masterpiece and showed it off to them. “What do you guys think?”

“It’s cool!” Amalia said, and the other girls added their agreements. “I’ve always wanted a cast!”

“Me too!” Grace chimed in. “Or crutches!” 

“I think it’ll definitely make me stand out,” you said as you sat on the floor and settled against one of the bunks for your girls’ daily Good Night Circle. 

“Maybe it’ll help you get a boyfriend!” Theo piped up, now wearing her big metal retainers.

“Or a girlfriend?” Evangeline pointed out very matter-of-factly.

The others were quick to jump on board. 

“Maybe one of the other counselors will see it and fall in love with you!”

“Do you want a boyfriend or a girlfriend?”

“We could help you!”

“Yeah! My dad says I’m a really good matchmaker!”

“You girls are silly!” you said, sighing in exasperation. “I think it’s time for bed.” 

There was less resistance than usual- maybe they were taking pity on you because you were broken- but there were still the typical whines and protests as you tucked them in. 

“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” you said in a singsong voice as turned off the lights and climbed into your own bed. 

And you finally.... laid there staring at the ceiling. For hours. Despite being completely drained in every sense of the word, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing and you couldn’t get comfortable with your arm bent at a weird angle. And were you remembering everything that had happened that day wrong- or had Tom actually helped you get undressed? And then get dressed? Had he really held your hand? Twice?

You wiggled your fingers as if the movement would replicate the feeling of his hand in yours, or give you an answer of some kind, but of course there was nothing. Just that same emptiness you felt in the pit of your stomach. 

Realistically, you knew all of those things really had happened, and even if you couldn’t remember the specifics, you remembered the little things. Like the pink tint that highlighted Tom’s cheeks when he edged the straps of your swimsuit down your shoulders, or the rough calluses that had tickled your palms when you held hands with him. They reminded you that it wasn’t all some weird dream... or nightmare, rather. 

You pushed your covers off, suddenly feeling very hot. You sat upright and took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, trying to force all the thoughts from your mind. Thinking about Tom in a positive manner was one of, if not the number one way your brain could betray you. Even barely brushing the subject had you breaking out into a cold sweat. The boy was really living rent free in your mind and not in a good way. 

Everything felt wrong, and not for the first time this summer you wished you could pour yourself a drink. Maybe it wouldn’t help with any of your problems, but it sure would take the edge off. 

Even though it was futile, you flopped back on your bed in the hope that sleep would have mercy on you and finally let you rest. You shut your eyes and tried a few of the meditation methods you’d learned from YouTube to make yourself sleepy, but even then you couldn’t shake the low buzz of anxiety that nudged at the back of your mind.

Fucking Tom Holland. 

If you weren’t going to get any sleep you might as well waste time on your phone. You unlocked it, fought the urge to google ‘can you pass out if you punch yourself hard enough,’ and opened Twitter instead. You didn’t need to show up to breakfast with a black eye and a broken arm tomorrow morning. 

Your eyelids were finally starting to feel heavy and the screen on your phone was getting dimmer and dimmer as you began to drift off when sudden knocking at your window startled you out of your half-asleep state. 

The first thought you had was that someone was trying to break in, but then you remembered that you were at a summer camp and there was literally nothing valuable in the cabin so you let yourself relax a little bit. 

When you squinted a bit, you recognized the figure on the other side of the glass and flicked them off with your casted hand, even though you were fairly sure they couldn’t see you sitting there in the dark. It was confirmed when they knocked again and you had to scramble to push open the window so they wouldn’t wake your campers- at this God-forsaken hour. 

“What the fuck do you want?”

this one was tricky to get figure out but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[hyperfixationswithkate]

connect | davey jacobs

reader x davey jacobs

[modern newsies au] 

summary: It’s been two years since they spoke, and they need a wedding date. What could go wrong? 

The opening of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ plays as you anxiously await for a response. The song he’d made his contact all those years ago as a joke but you’re too sentimental to let it go. You sprint across your apartment to grab it. “Hi,” you pant into the receiver. “As for your proposition, for you” your old friend said, “anything”. Your heartbeat races even faster at the thought of seeing him again. “Thank you” “See you then” He says and then the receiver clicks. 

Almost a month and a half later, you sit on your couch waiting. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you think about the last time you saw him. It was almost two years ago now. After graduation, you two had slowly grown apart. People thought you guys were made for each other, actual soulmates, but time is a cruel mistress. Romance was never a word you would use to describe your relationship with Davey. He was always your partner in crime, your best friend, never your boyfriend. Well not never, the amount of times you’d see him laugh or talking or just existing and imagine a world where you two weren’t just friends. But the possibility of love wasn’t worth risking a friendship over. 

Somehow the idea of seeing him still makes you feel butterflies. Even though he recently moved to New York for a grad program, you didn’t reach out with the fear of being awkward or just wanting to leave things the way they were. But a friend’s wedding where they were desperate to meet your childhood friend after learning he’s in town and needing a date, a proposal arised. 

It wasn’t a large wedding but large enough that you could leave early if things got weird. Getting cornered into bringing a guy you haven’t seen in years to a wedding where you barely knew the bride wasn’t the finest combo but it will have to do. All your worries and fears were pulled from your mind with a knock on the door. ‘Here we go’ you thought. You pull the door open with a deep breath as you see him.

Wow, college has done him well. Davey was always handsome but wow. Maybe time isn’t so criminal after all. Suits make anybody better but damn does he pull it off. “Hey, long time no see” he says, “shut up” you breathe as you hug him. The silk of the suit touches your face, you can smell the laundry detergent. The same one he’s used since he was a kid. The stale cotton smell fills your mind with nostalgia. Memories of crying into his shirt over god knows what, or borrowing a jacket from his car after a spring rain. A small smell brings you back to a past life, a completely different person, someone afraid of the endless possibility of the future. But his voice brings you back to the present. As he pulls away from the hug, he says “So y/n, what’s the plan?” 

You two leave your apartment in an almost awkward silence. The fear of making things weird after two years of limited contact weights on you. As you approach his car, he says “so how did you get wrapped into a wedding?” You take a moment to reply and say “I barely know at this point, the groom is a friend of mine from my freshman writing class. His friend group is filled with frat boys and trust fund babies but he’s an alright guy and I am still easily peer pressured.” You ramble. 

“You have a theme of finding the one alright guy in a group of animals” He says, winking at you. “A prime example being your juvenile posse from freshman year.” You say. Davey playfully gasps, acting offended. “Jack, Race, Romeo, and the rest of the goonies weren't exactly angels but they weren't heathens” He says in an overly dramatic tone. 

He changes the subject before I can poke fun at his boys again saying “Me and Jack are sharing an apartment while I finish my double major and while he’s still doing random things to pay for art school. Some of the other boys are around town. It’s kind of homely though, especially through the first couple weeks. What was it like living somewhere completely new all on your own?” You think for a second and say “It’s kind of nice. Starting completely fresh. No one has any expectation of who you are. It was rough at first without anyone close but I was able to change without fear of ruining old friendships.” He nodded silently, definitely thinking about my statement and analyzing it like the over thinker he’s always been. 

We sat in a comfortable silence as we approached his car. Davey takes two large steps to reach the car door before you, “M’lady” he says as he opens the door. The inside of his car smelled like a lemon air freshener and his dashboard was covered in post it notes with random things scribbled on them. “What are these?” you say, staring at the little notes. “Oh well they started by me forgetting things all the time and it evolved into the boys leaving notes every time they’re in here alone. I’m too sappy to take them down” He replies as he gets into the driver seat. ‘If you mess this up, I’ll deck ya. Love Race’ reads one of the notes. Davey notices you eyeing the note as he starts the car and says quietly “Race wrote that one about today. He really wants us to be close again so when I drive down here to see you, I pick up cheap weed for him.” ''God that's such a Race thing to do'' you say laughing. He makes nervous eye contact with you that makes you think that maybe weed wasn’t Race’s only motive for us meeting again. But Davey speaks before your mind can race too far off, “So what’s the address for this wedding venue?” 

As we drive for a few minutes, Davey turns on the radio to fill the weird gap of silence between conversations and of course the first sing playing is “You’re my best friend” by Queen. The song about your partner being your best friend is playing, the song that could definitely be labeled as “our song” is playing, the universe is playing a cruel game on us today. Davey turns to you recognizing how significant this song is and says “You better remember all the words to this song” and of course I do. I reply by singing the opening verse very loudly. To which he does the exact same thing. As the song fades out, he says “I remember listening to that in high school. We used to sit on your bedroom floor and do homework while the whole Night At The Opera album played”. The nostalgia flooding back to you as his eyes focus back on the road. A particular memory stands out.

One night we were both studying for our AP Lit test in my bedroom. It was almost 2am and you’d been studying for hours. We snuck down to the kitchen for some snacks before the final haul of work. Running down the stairs your feet slip and Davey catches you in his arms. As you balance again, his arms don’t fall away and you turn to face him about to ask him if something is wrong. His eyes staring deeply into yours as you look at him and you savor the feeling of his warm hands on your arms. The moment quickly passed when your cat meowed very loudly at your feet, scaring the both of you apart. After raiding your kitchen, you two swiftly return upstairs to finish studying and hopefully avoiding another borderline romantic encounter for the evening. Once you close your bedroom door, Davey said “What’s your favorite record at the moment?”. He was trying to avoid studying but I didn’t really care. “Currently it’s A Night At The Opera by Queen. I just got it on vinyl and it’s definitely a winner” I say back. “Well then put it on” he says jokingly gesturing to the small record player in my room. “Alright mate” you mumble in a vague british accent knowing that’ll get him to laugh, and of course he does. You put on the record and the opening instrumental starts playing. 

We study for most of the album, only interrupted by pages flipping, pencils scratching, yawning, and me flipping the record. By the end of the album, we’re both lying on the floor staring at the ceiling in exhaustion, the carpet touching my bare arms as the final notes fade out. “That was incredible,” Davey says quietly, turning to face me on the ground. “I know” I say nodding, leaning towards him. For a few seconds, we were close enough together we could have kissed. Staring at each other waiting for the other to make a move. He turns away, a fear of making things weird overcomes him. You can tell in his face that he regrets it the moment he turns. 

The memory fades as the car stops at a red light. Turning to Davey as his eyes are fixed on the road, you see the side profile that you saw everyday at school. The slightly crooked nose that got broken from a flying book during lunch. The eyebrow that has a small scar above it from tripping at the city pool during freshman year. The pink blotch of color on his cheek that never seems to leave no matter the temperature. All these memories attached to him for better or for worse. 

He notices you staring as he turns the corner. “What?” he says quietly, blushing. “Nothing, just thinking” you say equally as quiet. “About what?” he almost whispers. Just as you panic about what to say, the GPS says “You have arrived at your destination”

[thewidowsghost]

Fox - Chapter 20

Previously on Fox:

"What am I supposed to say?" Natasha asks. "That sucked and your powers suck and you suck? Nope, because none of that is true," Nat adds and (Y/n)'s eyes widen slightly. Realizing that the rain was ruining the mood, (Y/n) snaps her fingers again and the rain stops, the clouds dissipating.

(Y/n) summons another chair and sits down beside Natasha. "Hey, so, we're supposed to leave tomorrow night," (Y/n) begins. "What do you say we go on that date on Saturday?" Natasha looks up from her lap and smiles.

"That sound's nice," Natasha says, a soft smile spreading across her face.

The two sit there for a while before (Y/n)'s phone rings. She pulls it out to answer, "Hello?"

(Y/n)'s POV

"Captain," Fury's voice comes from out of the phone. "Are you still with Romanoff?"

"Yes sir," I put the phone on speaker so Nat could listen too.

"Good, we need you and Romanoff to come in, ASAP," Fury orders.

"Yes sir," Natasha responds.

"Where do you need us? Back at base?" I ask, the two of us standing up, and I wave the chairs away.

"Yes Captain, you have four hours," Fury says, ending the call.

"Guess we're not going on that date anytime soon," Natasha says as the two of us sprint towards the house and up the front porch stairs. I grab my sketchbook, tear a piece of paper out.

"Go pack our stuff," I order, and Nat nods, darting inside.

I scribble something to the Bartons'. It says:

Dear Clint & Laura,

Fury called us in for a mission. Hopefully, we'll be back soon. We love you, see you soon. Tell the kids we said bye. Love, (Y/n) and Nat

I take the note and set it on the dining room table before darting upstairs to help Nat.

"Leave the guitar," I tell Natasha as she goes to grab it.

"Are you sure?" she asks and I nod.

"Just grab the bare minimum," I say, throwing my sketchbook and pencils haphazardly into my suitcase and zipping it up.

"Let's go," Natasha says and I nod, grabbing each of our suitcases.

The two of us jog down the stairs and sprint out to the field where we had landed the Quinjet a few days previously.

We get in and throw our suitcases into the storage area before heading for the pilot and co-pilot's seats. We sit down and I pull the Quinjet into the air.

3rd Person POV

"We're never going to get there in time at this rate," (Y/n) mutters, staring at the time till destination: 5 hours. "Only one way," (Y/n) says and Natasha looks at her.

"What?" Nat asks.

"You'll have to see," (Y/n) answers, closing her eyes. She summons a jet of wind and the Quinjet speeds up. She opens her eyes to see that the time has gone down by half an hour. "Jeez," (Y/n) mutters. She grabs the stick and begins to pull the Quinjet up to an elevation of about 20,000 feet. Once at the elevation, she pulls the stick gently back down so the Quinjet is flying level. (Y/n) relaxes when she sees that the time has gone down to three and a half hours. "That's a lot better," she murmurs.

"Nice job," Natasha says and (Y/n) smiles.

"Hey, since we can't do that date Saturday, how 'bout we do it now?" (Y/n) offers.

"Sounds interesting, I'm in," Natasha says and (Y/n) stands up from her seat.

"Sounds good, I'll be right back," (Y/n) darts back to where she keeps the coffee maker and opens a cabinet. From the cabinet, she pulls out a few bags of chips. "This is all we've got now, but here," (Y/n) says, setting the chips on the middle console before running over and grabbing some sour cream and onion dip.

"It works," Nat says, opening a bag of plain Ruffles.

"So, Miss Romanoff," (Y/n) says, opening the dip, setting it on the middle console then sitting back down. "Tell me a little about yourself."

Natasha takes some of the dip and eats a chip before starting. "I was born on November 22nd, 1984 in Russia. I wasn't a great human being until a few weeks ago," Natasha continues and (Y/n) frowns slightly. "What about you?" she asks.

"My birthday is October 5th, 1985. I was born in Malibu," (Y/n) begins. "My mother died when I was 17 then I went to live with my dad until I was old enough to join the Air Force. During my time in the Air Force, I went on a couple missions for the US government. While I was in Sokovia, one of my partners died, I still keep in touch with the the other though. After that, Clint and Fury recruited me to work for SHIELD," (Y/n) pauses and Natasha nods encouragingly for her to continue. "Clint brought me to the farm to meet Laura and the kids, then about a week later I left and Clint flew me home. That evening Fury called me for an urgent mission," (Y/n) smiles at Nat, "you, of course," Natasha rolls her eyes playfully. "Clint and I spend a couple of weeks trying to find you, and well, you know the rest." (Y/n) meets Natasha's emerald gaze, "And you're not a bad person. From what I can tell, you're smart and brave and it seems like you are willing to do the right thing at whatever the cost." At (Y/n)'s words, Natasha looks down.

"How can you be so sure?" Natasha asks softly.

"Well, it's the fact that you decided so quickly to leave for a fresh start. The fact that you and Clint came to help me with those evil dudes that attacked me back in Belarus. The fact that you're here, on this jet right now, ready to go on a mission to help change what happened in the past," (Y/n) finishes and Natasha looks up, seeing the serious look in (Y/n)'s (E/C) eyes. "And like I said, I don't judge people on their past mistakes, but what they do in the present. Whatever you did in the past doesn't matter to me, it's what you do now that counts."

"Thanks, (Y/n)," Natasha says. "That means a lot. Since I was little, I was told that I had no place in the world," sensing that (Y/n) was about to speak, Natasha holds up her hand to keep her from interrupting. "But since I met you, I realized that you helped me find a place in the world, and I will always be thankful to you for that."

"You don't have to thank me for anything," (Y/n) says, and Natasha meets her gaze.

"Yes, I do. If not for you, I might still be in Russia -" (Y/n) cuts Natasha off by grabbing her hand.

"Don't, don't do that to yourself," (Y/n) says.

"But-" (Y/n) cuts her off again.

"Don't," Natasha meets (Y/n)'s gaze and relaxes a little.

"Okay," the redhead murmurs. "I won't," she vows.

"Good," (Y/n) says, still holding Natasha's hand.

"You can let go of my hand now," Natasha says, not really wanting (Y/n) to let go.

"I'm trying to figure out if I want to let go," (Y/n) says and Natasha smiles. "I'm leaning towards no," Natasha entwines her fingers with (Y/n)'s.

"Good," Natasha says and (Y/n) smiles.

The two sit there for a while, talking about random things until they hear someone from SHIELD radio into the jet. (Y/n) gently removes her hand from Natasha's and pulls on her headphones.

"Captain Stark? Agent Romanoff? Come in," A man says.

"This is Stark," (Y/n) answers. Go change into your uniform, she tells Natasha and the redhead nods.

"Good, we thought it was you two. You have clearance to land," the man says.

"Right," (Y/n) pulls back on the stick, the Quinjet hovering in the air for a moment. She gently makes it so the Quinjet will auto-park and she jumps up from her seat. She runs over to the storage area, opens her suitcase and pulling out her SHIELD uniform before quickly pulling it on. Natasha walks in from the bathroom in her jet black uniform as (Y/n) is tying up her combat boots.

"Let's go," Natasha says and (Y/n) nods. The two jog back to the front of the Quinjet and (Y/n) presses a button as the Quinjet lands on the ground. (Y/n) nods to Natasha and the two jog off the Quinjet, matching each others' steps.

"Stark, Romanoff," the two stop in front of Agent Coulson.

"Agent Coulson," (Y/n) and Natasha say in unison.

"Follow me," Coulson says and (Y/n) and Natasha exchange a look before following the brown haired man into the SHIELD facility. "Enjoy your break?" Coulson asks as he leads the two women to the briefing room.

"Yes actually," (Y/n) answers for her and Natasha.

"Good, because you might be gone for a while," Coulson says and (Y/n) and Natasha exchange a look before walking into the briefing room.

"Stark, Romanoff," Maria Hill says.

"Agent Hill," Natasha answers, and Hill signals for the two to sit down.

They settle down in chairs across from each other.

"We need you two to escort a nuclear engineer out of Iran. It will need to be an undercover mission. Leave the Quinjet about a hundred miles from the facility, and drive the engineer back to the Quinjet," (Y/n) nods. "You need to get there as soon as possible, but tonight if you can," Hill says. "Try to have him here by Sunday."

"Yes, ma'am," Natasha and (Y/n) say in unison, standing up.

"Good luck," Hill says, nodding to dismiss the two women.

With a nod from (Y/n), her and Natasha run back outside to their Quinjet and pull it into the air.

Word Count: 1630 words

This chapter is a little shorter then the past few chapters, but if y'all have seen Captain America: The Winter Soldier, you should know what happens. BTW the next chapter will have violence in it, but not extreme, rivers of blood kind of things.

Anyway, Nat and (Y/n) are still so cute!!!! I love it!!!

See y'all!

Love,

Kaitlynn 😍❤

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