#just a brief update about me i guess ! if you have even read this far huhu

[incorrect-supercorp]

hello hello have you missed me i am finally back after an almost 6 months unplanned hiatus hehe. mental health took its toll etc etc, y'all know how it is. but things have finally eased up enough that i can once again enjoy consuming media (and shitposting) :p

#when you hit rock bottom the only way is up #its true #anyway! hope y'all have been doing better than me <3 #and i can finally excavate some of the asks/submissions that have been in my askbox for god knows how long ... #just a brief update about me i guess ! if you have even read this far huhu #thinky thots

[strangersmunsons]

read 'em and weep #3

you and Eddie spend more time together. romance blossoms.

Chapter 3 Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series Read Ch. 2 -> Here!

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, lowkey shy!reader, new love and giddiness all around, and a brief cameo from Steve. No mention of reader's physical appearance, no use of y/n. Warnings: mentions of food/eating. Word Count: ~5.5k this took me sooo, ridiculously long to finish. work, writer's block, etc kept getting in the way! hopefully this is okay. i've spent far too much time at this point editing & second-guessing everything, i finally just had to stop overthinking & post!

You’re lying on your bed, nearly dozing when the telephone on your nightstand starts ringing shrilly.

The shock of it startles you from your half-sleep, and you blearily push yourself upright from the prone position. One hand smashes into the pages of the magazine you’d been skimming through, which slips forward on the soft bed covers.

Too comfy to really want to move, you stretch over and clumsily pick up the phone, bringing it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Eddie,” says the voice on the other end. There’s a fuzziness around the edge of his words as they crackle through the speaker.

It’s not the first time he’s rang you at this hour, but a thrill still shoots through you at the sound of his voice. “Hi.”

Eddie has quickly become a fixture in your life over the past few weeks. Your friendship continued to blossom with each visit he paid you at the library, where he gave you live updates on his reading progress, not even bothering to wait until he was finished before sharing his opinions. He was nice, and funny, and you became increasingly fond of him.

Then one day, while he was chatting your ear off about something or other, it hit you: you think Eddie’s pretty. His face is sculpted but soft, everything just looks so soft. The rounded chin and cheeks, the bulbous tip of his nose that looks like the perfect place to plant a tiny kiss…

He had kept on talking, but you could hardly hear what he was saying. Suddenly all you could focus on was the prickly warmth creeping up the back of your neck and into your ears. It was reminiscent of a feeling you’d had once or twice before around him, but this time it came in swinging. And finally, you could see it for what it really was. Oh.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry, I know it’s kinda late.”

“No, I was still up.”

You sound a bit groggy, but if Eddie notices, he doesn’t mention it. “Okay, good. How are you?”

“I’m alright. How are you?”

“I’m alright,” he echoes back wryly. “How was your day? Did you have to work?”

“Yes, I did. It was good.” You reconsider, an uncomfortable moment spent with your boss flashing back to you, and grimace. “Mostly, anyway. How was your day?”

“Listen, don’t worry about me yet, I’m trying to ask about you. Tell me about your day, why was it only mostly good?”

Eddie seems to have a knack for that; saying things that make your heart flutter in a very nonchalant way, like it’s no big deal. You’re glad this conversation is over the phone, so he can’t see the dopey look on your face.

“Well…” You bite your lip. “It’s not a big deal, but do you know the librarian at all?”

“Marissa? Unfortunately. She’s kind of a bitch.”

“Yeah, she is. And today she overheard me telling another clerk what I have planned for Story Time this weekend, and she doesn’t like it. So she got kind of nasty with me.”

“Why? Are you reading something very inappropriate?”

“I want to read them this Dr. Seuss book, Bartholomew and the Oobleck, do you remember that one? And then for the craft period, we’ll make the oobleck. It’s really easy, just cornstarch and water. But she’s saying that I shouldn’t do it because it’s going to make too much of a mess.”

“Oobleck is supposed to be a really thick slime, right? The whole point is that it gets everywhere and they can’t get rid of it?”

“Well, yeah,” you admit. “So she might actually have a point.”

“Are you kidding?” he replies brightly. “They’ll love that shit. You should do it anyway, I think that’s a sick idea.”

“Thank you.” There’s a touch of pride in your voice. You really do try your best to come up with fun and interesting things for the kids. Encouraging them to read and sparking their creativity is all you ever hope for. “I also think it’s a great opportunity to teach them all about non-Newtonian fluids.”

Eddie barks out a laugh, and it digs sharply into your ear.

“You’re funny sometimes, you know that?”

You were being serious, but if it means you’re making Eddie laugh, then you suppose you’ll take it.

He continues without waiting for an answer. “If you need help cleaning up after, I can be around for that, since I don’t work until later.”

Immediately, your brain conjures up visions of green goo splattering everywhere, getting stuck to the low tables and entrenching itself into the carpet. You can’t bring yourself to inflict that upon him. “That’s awfully sweet of you, but you absolutely do not have to do that,” you reassure him.

“I’ll be there,” he says firmly.

“No!”

“I wanna play with the oobleck. I’ll be there.”

“Fine,” you concede with a laugh. “I won’t argue with that.” There’s a warm pause, mutual affection running through the miles of telephone wire connecting the two of you. You fiddle with a small pilled spot on the bedspread. “So how’s the latest book coming along?”

“Well,” he heaves out with a great sigh, “I finally finished Left Hand of Darkness, which was really good. I can’t say I liked it better than Earthsea, but I enjoyed it. I get why you like it so much.” 

“Comes down to personal preference. I’ve never met a bigger fantasy nerd than you, so Earthsea would be tough competition.”

“For my own sake, I’m choosing to take that as a compliment. Oh, and Genly and Estraven definitely had sex when they were alone on the ice together. I don’t care if they say otherwise.”

“Oh, they totally did!” you concur with a giggle.

��They were definitely kemmering, or whatever it is you’re supposed to call it. Anyway, I’m on to Geek Love now, and frankly, I’m shocked that you recommended this to me.”

“Why? You don’t like it?” It is a little grotesque, but you thought he’d be into that.

“No, I do. But I just can’t believe that a sweet thing like you would read a book like this.”

Your cheeks flood with heat as the word bounces around your head. Sweet, sweet, sweet — he thinks I’m sweet. “I like all kinds of books,” you mumble, and mentally kick yourself for not coming up with something more flirtatious to say back. The banter came a little more easily before you realized just how much you like him.

“So I’ve gathered.”

“Just you wait. I’ll have you reading the Brontës in no time.”

He huffs in disbelief. “Right. That’s likely.” He clears his throat. “Hey, um, can I ask you something?” There’s an edge to his voice you’re not used to hearing. 

“Shoot.”

“Do you wanna come and hang out at my place this weekend? We could get food and watch a movie, like Lord of the Rings or something, if you still wanted to see it. Or we can go to the video store and pick something out. You can choose.”

So far, Eddie’s only ever come to visit you at the library. The prospect of spending time with him alone — truly alone, without coworkers and patrons lurking just around the corner — makes your heart hammer dizzyingly against your ribs. You keep your answer simple. “Yes. I would like that.”

“Awesome.”

Wayne can hear one side of the discussion drifting through the trailer when he comes home, kicking his work boots off and leaving them by the door. Halfway across the living room he spies his nephew in the kitchen, and his eyebrows shoot up at the state of him.

Eddie’s leaning with his back against the wall, the phone held in place between his cheek and his shoulder. One ringed hand is twirling the phone cord around his finger as he speaks in a low voice, goofy grin plastered on his face.

They make eye contact across the trailer. Eddie immediately straightens up and tries to neutralize his expression.

Wayne snorts out a laugh.

“So, um, so anyway—“ Eddie fumbles with the phone “— does six o’clock work?” He turns to the side in a poor attempt to muffle the conversation. 

Wayne steps into the kitchen and tosses his jacket and lunchbox across the table. He makes a kissy-face at Eddie.

Eddie gives him the finger.

The day Eddie is meant to see you takes forever to arrive. However, as he stares at his reflection in his dresser mirror, he starts to feel like maybe it actually came way too quickly.

He’d spent the past half-hour wildly picking through his closet, combing his hair with his fingers, trying to figure out how he should present himself as more and more clothing gets flung around the room. Eventually he gave up on his hair, and came up with an ensemble he liked, but would you like it? Would you like him?

To the untrained eye, Eddie is wearing his standard Eddie-uniform: tight black pants and a band t-shirt. On the surface, it’s a regular outfit for him. But if one is a truly acute observer, they should clearly be able to see that there are subtle variations within this basic framework he’s donning that scream “Eddie Munson is Trying to Impress a Girl!”

His ripped jeans have tears that expose swaths of skin not just on his knees, but his thighs as well (scandalous!) and he’s wearing his coolest Slayer t-shirt, the one that he ripped the sleeves off of so that his tattooed arms are on full display. And it’s just loose enough so that when he leans forward, the fabric gives way so you can catch a glimpse of his chest, with its sparse hair and winking nipple ring.

It’s all very deliberate.

But as much as Eddie doesn’t want to admit it, he’s nervous. While he becomes increasingly enamored of you, unable to keep the sly compliments and saccharine terms of endearment from slipping out, you get more shy. He still hasn’t figured out if that’s a good or bad sign.

Both of you seem to be hovering in romantic limbo, tiptoeing along the fine line between friendship and flirtation. Playful and insecure. Tender and uncertain. Was your puckish rapport a new experience, or were you like that with every person you met? Did you like it when he phoned you late at night and called you honey and sweetheart, or were you just too polite to correct him? Did you hold his name and face in your soft heart when he wasn’t right there next to you, like he did yours?

He’d chickened out at the last minute, dancing around the word ‘date.’

Eddie could be smooth on occasion, sure. But it was different when you knew you didn’t actually have a shot in hell with the person you were talking to. He didn’t have to be afraid of rejection when he already knew it was coming.

Like, he could flirt and wink at Chrissy Cunningham all he wanted and invite her to the Hideout because he knew full-well that she was never really going to show up to watch his band play — let alone dump her boyfriend to go out with him. So he could ham it up, make a fool of himself, and then shrug it all off when nothing happened.

Only a few girls had ever taken him up on his offers. And they always ended up being private affairs; nobody wanted to risk being seen out at dinner with Eddie Munson. Instead there were quick and clumsy trysts in the back of his van or in the woods behind the school, and he was reduced to a novelty notch in the bedpost, a secret for them to whisper about at slumber parties, the eponymous who of a giggly “Guess who I hooked up with!” 

It took Eddie a minute to catch on. He remembers the first time, when he hooked up with a girl at a party he was dealing at during his junior year. The next school day, he tried approaching her in the hallway as she chatted with a fellow cheerleader, and she quite literally turned on her heel and ran — but not without shooting him a look of such intense disdain that it made Eddie physically flinch. Her friend snapped her locker shut, and snickered knowingly at Eddie before following suit.

He won’t lie, that one stung. He’d stood there in mild shock at being brushed off so harshly, while other students milled about, completely oblivious to his distress; someone deliberately knocked their shoulder into his as they passed by, causing the handle of his lunchbox to slip out from his sweaty fist. It fell to the floor with a loud clang that echoed about his ears.

Eddie had already had a pretty good idea of what other people thought of him, but boy, did it really sink in that day.

It set the framework for what his love life would look like for the rest of high school. Which maybe wouldn’t have been so horrible to deal with, if only he hadn’t been in high school for two years longer than he’d expected to be.

So he leaned into it. It was really the only thing he could do, and hey, at least it meant that he could get some every now and then. What did it matter if they refused to make eye contact with him the next day? He didn’t need all that relationship mess, anyway. He didn’t care.

He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care — if he tried to tell himself that one more time he was going to explode.

In reality Eddie’s a pretty lonely guy. But since meeting you? He’s hopeful for the first time in a long time that maybe his life doesn’t have to be that way.

Eddie raps on your front door with his fist, biting the inside of his cheek. Pizza and movies. Easy breezy. There has never been a more relaxed person than you, ever, he thinks, buzzing with nervous energy.

After a moment the door swings open. “Hi,” you greet him, stepping out onto the welcome mat, tugging at the shoulder strap of your purse. 

“Hey,” he responds with an easy smile on his lips, one that doesn’t betray his anxiety. He gives you an approving once-over and lets out a low whistle. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

And you really are. He’s never seen you in anything but your work clothes, so he appreciates this chance to see you in an outfit that’s true to your style. 

You let out an embarrassed chuckle and wave a hand at him. “Oh, please.” 

“No, I’m serious! You look very nice.”

You can hardly meet his gaze, a flustered grin forming on your own face. “Thank you. So do you.”

He shrugs modestly, but his dimples show. He gestures to where his van sits parked by the curb. “Shall we?”

The interior of the van is plush and blue and smells of tobacco and something vaguely minty. Eddie insists on running around the vehicle so he can open the passenger-side door for you, and holds out his arm for you to grasp while you climb in; an unexpected act of chivalry.

“Wow, I’m getting the full VIP treatment here, aren’t I?” you ask him jokingly as you clamber onto the seat.

“Get used to it, sweetheart. I may not look it, but I’m a gentleman of the highest caliber.”

“I’m sure you are. I’ll bet Emily Post writes to you for etiquette tips.”

Eddie turns the engine on, and music starts blaring from the speakers. He quickly turns the volume down, shooting you an apologetic look. “Sorry. I, uh, I like it loud.” He gestures to a shoebox tucked away on the floor by your feet. “There’s a bunch of other tapes in there, you can pick a different one if you like.”

You’re delighted to realize that you have an opportunity to tease him. You tilt your head up, lips pouting as though you’re deep in thought. “Okay. Let's say I pull out a different tape.”

Eddie looks at you quizzically, but plays along. “Okay. Let’s say you do.” 

“Now, hypothetically, I would do this because I want to hear something different from what’s playing currently. Right?”

“Right…”

You reach into the box and pull out the first tape you make contact with, and end up with the latest W.A.S.P. album. You cock an eyebrow at him while you hold out the tape for him to see. “So riddle me this: what are the chances that this album — or any of these albums, for that matter — sound any different from what you’re playing right now?”

Eddie attempts to stifle a laugh and fails. “Hey now,” he says, trying to sound stern, “there is something incredibly special and nuanced about every single tape in that box. I would never deign to compare Ride the Lightning to The Headless Children. Completely different. Worlds apart, in fact.”

You shrug, pleased with yourself. “If you say so. You would know better than me.”

“I’m gonna teach you how to be metal,” he promises, peering over his shoulder as he backs out onto the street.

You continue rifling around in his box of tapes. “Do you really think I could be? My job is reading picture books to preschoolers.”

“Totally. There’s nothing more metal than the public library.”

The first stop you and Eddie make is at his favorite local pizza joint, where he insists on paying for dinner himself — he wouldn’t even let you throw a dollar in the tip jar. The shop is conveniently located in the same strip mall as the Family Video, so after putting your order in, the two of you cross the road to browse for a movie while you wait.

When you enter the store, you’re greeted by the little tinkling sound of bells and a bored ‘Welcome’ from the employee seated at the counter.

The cashier is cute — not as cute as Eddie, you think — and probably about the same age. When he finally looks up from the counter and sees the two of you together, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise before furrowing again as he makes eye contact with Eddie.

The two boys stare at each other in mutual distaste. He nods coolly at Eddie. “Munson.”

Eddie’s reply is flat. “Harrington.”

As you approach the counter, the employee’s name tag comes into view: Steve. 

Eddie strides past him and doesn’t stop, even when Steve calls out to his retreating back —

“You still haven’t brought back Spinal Tap!”

“I know,” Eddie replies, not bothering to turn around.

You follow Eddie across the store, skimming through the colorful titles. He stops abruptly in the middle of an aisle, and you bump softly into his back.

He gives you an amused smirk from over his shoulder. “Easy there.”

“Sorry,” you reply, giving him a little smile that’s all too apologetic for his liking. He can’t resist the urge to reach out and take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go again.

You beam at him.

“So what are we feeling?” he asks, feeling needlessly scrambled at the brief but lingering affection. “Something scary? Funny?” He bats his eyelashes dramatically. “Romantic?” 

Your response is automatic. “Whatever you want is fine with me.”

Eddie frowns at you. “I told you, it’s your choice. I already picked out a two-hour cartoon.”

He’s being very sweet. But you want to pick something that he’ll enjoy, too.

Acting on a little tip from your new friend Steve the Cashier, you ask Eddie —

“So you like Rob Reiner movies, huh?”

Eddie slaps The Princess Bride down on the counter in front of Steve. 

“Nice vest,” he comments.

Steve shoots him a dirty look. “Your late fees are gonna pile up.”

Eddie ignores this.

Steve sighs and begins the checkout process. Eddie can’t help noticing Steve casting you sidelong glances, his eyes flitting up and down your figure appreciatively. 

Eddie clears his throat pointedly.

“Here.” Steve pushes the film back over the counter.

Eddie grabs it and heads for the door without saying anything; you, confused and a little put off by the attitude, offer Steve your most polite “Thank you!” before scurrying out after him. 

Eddie holds the door for you when exiting, a pleasant expression on his face that’s a stark contrast from the one he wore when talking to Steve. When you’re both back outside, you can’t help but wonder what that cashier ever did to him.

“I take it you’re not a fan of Steve from Family Video?” you press.

Eddie looks sheepish. “You caught that, huh?”

“It was kind of hard to miss.”

He hesitates. “Well, we went to school together, and he wasn’t very nice. Let’s leave it at that.”

You simply nod, understanding his reluctance to say more. Reliving your high school trauma isn’t exactly something you’re interested in right now, either.

As you and Eddie head back across the street, your swinging arms cause your hands to brush against one another. After a moment’s hesitation, he clasps your hand in his, and your fingers intertwine, like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

Eddie starts the drive home, and he feels a wave of apprehension.

He told you he lived in Forest Hills early on, and you didn’t bat an eyelash. But with you being so new in town, he wasn’t really sure that you even knew it was a trailer park.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed, exactly, or even that he thinks you’ll really mind — nothing you’ve said to him thus far indicated that his economic status would bother you — but being called trailer trash as many times as he has…well, it’s enough to make anyone defensive.

By the time he pulls up to the Munson trailer, he still hasn’t dared to look across the cab to see your reaction. “Well, here we are!” he exclaims in a hearty voice that doesn’t match what he’s feeling inside at all.

While you fumble between unbuckling your seatbelt and balancing the pizza box on your lap, Eddie darts out of the van so he can help you climb out again. When he opens the door he’s relieved to see that you don’t seem phased by your surroundings; you flash him the same happy smile you always do, and it gives him a boost of confidence.

Hopping up the porch steps, he unlocks the rickety front door and gestures for you to enter, bowing slightly. “After you, miss.”

You curtsey back. “Thank you, sir.”

Eddie pretends that that has less of an effect on him than it actually does.

Inside, he watches you peer around the trailer in interest. He’s glad that he did a deep-clean yesterday: there’s no clothes hanging over the furniture, any garbage he could find was bagged up and taken out, and he wiped down all the flat surfaces with the lemon-y spray cleaner that lives beneath the sink. He even dumped out all the ashtrays; when Wayne saw that, he commented that he must really like this girl.

“That’s a lot of mugs,” you comment, looking admiringly at the shelves that display years of Wayne’s little hobby. “I’m impressed.”

“They’re my uncle’s,” says Eddie as he kicks off his shoes. “I keep telling him he’s got a problem.”

“No, they’re great,” you insist. “Everybody collects something. Don’t you?”

Eddie pauses, hovering by the boxy television. “I guess so. Music. D and D shit.” He sets the pizza down on the coffee table. “Here, have a seat. I’ll get us some plates.” 

Eddie walks to the kitchen and starts rifling through the cabinets for some paper plates and napkins. You call out to him from your seat on the worn sofa. “Is your uncle working right now?”

“Yeah.” Eddie pads back into the living room. “He works a lot of night shifts.”

“Are all Munsons generally nocturnal?” you ask, referring to his bartending gig at The Hideout, a job that keeps him busy well into the night.

Eddie chuckles as crouches by the coffee table, pulling off two slices of greasy pizza and laying one on each plate. “I guess you could say that,” he says, handing you your share. Brown eyes find yours and he nudges your knee with his elbow playfully. “But it leaves me free to come and bother you at work during the day, doesn’t it?”

You dig the toe of your sock into the rug and look down at the food instead of him. “I wouldn’t call you a bother.”

His full lips turn up at the corners. “You wouldn’t?” He rests his hand on your leg, and his fingers swirl a gentle pattern over your skin.

You swallow. “No.” The word comes out subdued and breathy.

Eddie doesn’t move, but stays positioned by your knee, staring up at you. “Look at me again,” he says softly, leaning in a little closer.

You do as he asks and it’s almost too much. His eyes are huge and warm and they look like everything you’ve ever wanted.

A few seconds tick by, and then the phone rings and Eddie’s standing up again, whatever momentary spell the two of you were under, broken.

“Hang on,” he says, face tinged pink.

You settle back into the sofa and squirm, feeling feverish. 

Eddie wrenches the phone off the hook in annoyance. “Hello?” When the person on the other line answers, he huffs and rolls his eyes, turning away so his back is towards you. Still, you catch snippets of the exchange:

“Henderson, I said tomorrow, okay?” Eddie hisses in aggravation. “No, I don’t care if you don’t wanna do it in the morning, man. I’ve gotta work tomorrow night. You guys either come early or it’s not happening.”

You watch him curiously.

“Suck it up.” Eddie pauses to listen to the person speak again, and turns and glances at you across the trailer. Then his tone becomes noticeably gentler. “Thanks, man. I’ll let you know. See ya.”

He hangs up the phone with a sigh, and his face relaxes into a smile again.

He strolls back into the living room and claps his ringed hands together. “So! Are you ready to experience a cinematic masterpiece?”

Some three hours later, you and Eddie are slumped back against the worn cushions, now one and half movies deep. Over the course of the night you’ve slowly closed the distance between your bodies, so his leg is pressed against yours. Eddie has one arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers dancing just above the skin of your collarbone. Both of you are stuffed to the gills, and more than a little sleepy. Even Eddie, who kept up a stream of commentary during Lord of the Rings, eager to discuss his favorite bits of Middle Earth lore with you, is tuckered out.

Shenanigans play out on the television screen. You let out a huge yawn. 

Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulder, hand digging into the meat of your bicep, pulling you closer to him. “This okay?” he murmurs.

You nod clumsily and start fidgeting, your hands twisting in your lap. 

Eddie says your name softly. You hum in acknowledgement. 

“I really like you. And I think you like me.” He cocks his head to the side. “Is that right?”

Your heart throbs.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he whispers back. “Can I kiss you then, sweetheart?”

You nod; Eddie leans in slowly, then presses his lips to yours for a moment before pulling back again. It’s quick, chaste and sweet, and not nearly enough. Your hands find his face, palms landing on both his cheeks so you can bring his mouth back to yours.

He’s happy to oblige. 

Eddie sighs, tongue dipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss. One hand cups the back of your head, keeping you right where he wants you. The other snakes around your thigh, and he uses the leverage to abruptly pull you up and over his lap. A small “Oh!” of surprise escapes you at the jolt, but Eddie wastes no time in securing his mouth to yours again.

His kisses are wet, heady, and grow increasingly frantic as the two of you clutch at each other. Your hands weave into his hair — a longtime fantasy of yours come true at last — and he lets out a soft moan when your fingers tug gently at the tangled tresses. 

Your skin feels tingly, sensitive, alight at every little touch he gives you. Your head is full of nothing but Eddie, the way he looks and feels and smells, and the way he makes you feel, like a shaken-up pop bottle, full of pink fizz and ready to burst.

Eddie suddenly laughs against your lips, smiling into another kiss.

You pull back hastily, self-consciously. But he looks jubilant, cheeks dimpled in joy, chocolate eyes crinkled at the outer corners.

“Sorry,” he says breathlessly, “it’s just — I couldn’t tell — I wasn’t really sure where your head was at.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “You kept gettin’ quiet on me all of a sudden.”

You let your head fall forward, forehead pressing into his shoulder, and let out a tiny groan. “I know. I’m sorry, it wasn’t you.”

You lift your head back up and face him. “I’m not usually very good at this stuff,” you admit. “Connecting with people. It’s harder, when you’re introverted…and have different interests. But you were so easy to talk to when we met! And I was so excited to make a new friend, but I…,” you trail off.

“But you what?” he prompts.

“The more I looked at you the cuter I thought you were.” The words come out in a rush. “When I realized what was happening I got nervous.”

Eddie waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Oh, something’s happening?” 

You swat at him playfully.

“I’m kidding!” He rubs your shoulders soothingly. “But you don’t have to be nervous around me. I’m just some guy, y’know?”

“You, Eddie Munson, are certainly not just some guy.”

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart. You’re makin’ me blush.”

The movie has long since ended, and a peaceful darkness settles over the trailer. The only sound is the chirp of the summer crickets outside and quiet breathing.

Eddie’s fully sprawled out over the couch with you nestled in his arms. It took some coaxing, but eventually he convinced you to lay on top of him, your warm weight better than any blanket, the sweet fragrance of your perfume soothing his senses. Your face is half-hidden in the crook of his neck, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I have a confession to make,” he says sleepily.

“Ooh. It better be something juicy.”

“It is. Excellent gossip. You can tell all your friends, I won’t even be mad.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I scoped you out at the library,” he admits. “I came in that day specifically to talk to you. Y’know, turn on that Munson charm, and sweep you off your feet, and all that.”

“Really?” You blink, trying to jog your memory. “I don’t remember ever seeing you before that.” You think of his tousled hair and clunky jewelry. “And you’re pretty memorable.”

“Well, there’s a slight chance that I, um, ducked, and hid behind a shelf when you got close. It was the Saturday right before we met, after you did your reading.”

That recalls something for you. “Wait, wait, maybe I do remember…” It’s hazy. Pale face, brown hair? You can’t quite place this person as Eddie, but it must have been him. “I think I did see you creeping around.”

“What can I say? Your story telling enthralled me.” 

It’s the truth. He’d been browsing for a Clive Barker book when he caught sight of you in the children’s area. You read We’re Going on a Bear Hunt with an enthusiasm usually reserved for trained Shakespearean actors, and it left him undeniably impressed. 

You cuddle closer to him, burying your face in his chest. “I’m glad you decided to nut up and talked to me.”

He smiles against your hair. “Me too.”

Early the next morning, in the hazy gray-blue dawn, the front door opens quietly — cautiously even. Wayne’s not sure what he’ll be walking into. All he knows is that his nephew really likes this girl, and that for Eddie’s sake he hopes that his date went well. He’s not sure how much more disappointment the boy can take. He wants to see him happy.

So he’s pleasantly surprised to see you and Eddie piled up on the couch like two puppies, fast asleep and — thank Christ — fully-clothed. Eddie’s arm is slung over you protectively, his soft snores just barely audible. 

Good for him.

And if they wanna sleep in the living room, that’s fine. 

Wayne’s gonna take the bed.

thank you for reading!! <3 Read Ch. 4 -> Here! taglist: @eddiesgirlforever, @eds6ngel, @sheisahauntedhouse, @lokis-tardis-companion19, @teary-eyed-egg, @whenshelanded, @nanaminswhore, @witchwolflea

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x bookworm!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson series

[interpolanticssuperfan]

nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 3 | 18+ only

hii everyone! thank you SO much for the incredible kindness youve shown me and sweet words so far! and thank you all for reading. i accidentally made this chapter longer than i intended to.. oops. i hope i am doing a good job at slow burning because ive struggled with that in the past. warnings: reader goes outside to smoke a cigarette. lol. enjoy and as always feedback fuels me!!

also, i wanted to let you all know that you can listen to the playlist i have been listening to as i work on this fic which is sort of a mix of stuff that reminds me of ken and stuff i think he'd like. idk i love when authors share what they listen to, so you can check that out here.

you can also reply to my posts or message me if you want to be tagged for updates. i am posting a masterlist today for ease of access.

tags: @heyareyoulistening @itsametaphorbriansblog @alyeria

In the span of one hour, you absorbed more information and somehow became more confused the longer Ken spent investigating every inch of your apartment. You explained to him that you did not own this entire building, and that only one unit was allotted to you, but this still impressed Ken.

“Are you friends with all your neighbors?” He asked, squinting closely at the magnets on your fridge, touching them and flipping frantically through the notepad you used for grocery lists, like he needed to see more of your handwriting, more of the things you used every day. Ken murmured to himself as he took in the words: flour, one dozen eggs, croissants.

You’d reinstated yourself at your dining table with your work laptop, creating an elaborate lie for your supervisor as to why you missed the weekly team check in. My cousin’s dog was assaulted by a rabid possum and we had to take him to the emergency vet, please excuse my brief absence… I’m happy to work overtime to accommodate this inconvenience… He was only a puppy…

So on and so forth. You were confident you could schmooze your way out of a write up. Ken couldn’t stand still, couldn’t contain himself – had whizzed through the front door when you unlocked it, bouncing off the walls with questions and comments that flowed freely.

“No, I’m not friends with all my neighbors. There’s gotta be at least forty other people that live here. Are you?”

“I know all the Kens. We are not all friends. But I know all of them.”

“You’re all named Ken.”

“No. There’s Allans.”

“Right.”

Ken gleefully picked up each cookbook stacked on top of a low hanging shelf, tearing through each one and making tiny astonished faces at each new dish he was introduced to. Recipes on the sweeter side piqued his interest – cinnamon rolls, pastries, cookies. You had suspended disbelief long enough to just let Ken do this, let him touch everything even if he moved your belongings out of place. It wasn’t typical for you to have a man over, let alone one who was learning how the natural human world worked. (And had to ask you with stars in his eyes what ovens were for.)  

“These pancakes look divine. They’re putting all kinds of stuff in these. I didn’t know you could put blueberries in them. They taste good, right?” You craned your neck to get a look at the recipe he was referring to.

“If you’re a decent cook! You just have to pay attention to what you’re doing, measuring, how long things stay on the stove. It’s like that for anything you cook. I’m not great with pancakes, for some reason I always tend to burn them.”

“So what’s your favorite food?” Ken asks, setting the book down and taking to the fridge, flinging the doors wide open and surveying each salad dressing, bottle of water, every can of cold brew coffee. He ran his fingers along the labels, as if reading braille, receiving telepathic information about these products from just handling them. It was an odd sight. Everything he held looked so small in his hands.

“Er… I guess I really like sushi. But I haven’t had it in awhile. Trying to save money, make a habit of eating at home. And I just like to make simple things.”

“What’s in sushi?” Ken’s rotating a banana in his hands, picking at the stem to see what it does.

“A lot of things. Usually raw fish. Rice that sticks together to make a shape, seaweed, different kinds of sauces.” It’s making you laugh, seeing Ken size up this banana with a puzzled look on his face. “Do you want to try eating that?”

He shifts uncomfortably, placing the fruit back down on the counter like it had offended him. “We have these in Barbieland but they are not nearly as squishy. Ours are rock hard. And not brown!”

Ken was right – that banana was probably past its prime, but you hadn’t cleaned out the fridge in a few days. You’d gotten sick of refreshing your inbox waiting for a reply from your supervisor, so you got up and pulled a knife from the drawer, setting the squishy banana on a paper towel to cut it.

“Here. Try this,” you cut through the peel and divide up a small end slice into two pieces, holding one out to Ken who seems frightened by it, squares his shoulders.

“There’s something inside that peel?”

“Go ahead, just take a bite! You might like it, how else will you find out what you like?”

“But (Y/N), I’m not… hungry.”

“That’s okay. It’s a very small slice, I promise it’ll be alright, Ken.”

His eyes flash with trust at the promise you’ve just made him, so he abandons his apprehension and plops the bit into his mouth. It’s like watching a baby bird clamor for its mother’s offering of regurgitated seed and berry mix. Ken doesn’t instinctively chew, he just lets it sit in his mouth like he’s waiting for the fruit to do something. You raise up the other banana slice, catch his eye and show him how to chew, slowly, and then swallow. 

Ken nods, although his movements are strange and exaggerated, but eventually allows a smile. “That was pretty good. Mushy.” He searches your face to see if he’s given the correct answer, which is even funnier to you than him trying food for the first time.

“Did you like it? Bananas are on the sweet side.”

“Definitely. I think I really like them. Can I have the rest of it?”

“So you can taste!”

Ken grins to himself, gives you a proud stance and swaggers to the side, popping his hip out as he starts cutting up the rest of the fruit. 

“Oh, yeah. I can taste everything. Nothing I can’t taste.”

“When I go to the store next I can get you some more sweet foods. But you can’t just eat sweets. Fruit is naturally sweet, but for example, you can’t just have ice cream and brownies all the time. Your body will hate you for that.”

“And I can make you pancakes with bananas.” Ken adds, cocky as ever, already physically spreading himself out in your kitchen like he owns the place, thighs open and easy and confident as he leans back. He adjusts quickly to new situations, you’re discovering, with none of the social anxiety most people might feel.

“Let’s save the cooking and… turning on the stovetop… for when I can teach you. It can be dangerous if you’re not familiar with what to do.”

“But what if I want to surprise you, (Y/N)? You wouldn’t want to ruin it, would you?”

“I’d rather ruin the breakfast than have you accidentally catch my apartment building on fire.”

Ken considers this, starts chewing at the rest of the banana slices while still committed to looking cool as he does so. “You’re so right. So, where do you think I should sleep?”

You put some distance between the two of you, since proximity to the blonde had begun to make you feel inexplicably self conscious, and sit back down at your laptop. You hadn’t gotten this far, hadn’t decided where Ken could stay and if he was even going to stay. Stay for what? A crash course in becoming a member of society? Turn him into the perfect roommate who’s convinced you’re dating now? And how in the hell were you qualified to teach him anything about life, fulfillment, health or success when you were far from the epitome of any of those?

“I thought you said you didn’t get tired.”

“There’s something I need to tell you about,” the sudden change in Ken’s tone caught you off guard, so after taking a brief glance at your emails again and confirming nothing of substance had arrived, you folded your hands in your lap and turned your body towards him, anticipatory and patient.

“When Barbie went to the real world, almost everything about her changed. She still looked like herself, but… it was different. She told us that she got a cold.” Ken gestured to his nose, crinkling it up in dismay. “Sniffling. She had to use tissues.” 

“You’re worried about getting sick?”

“No, not… right now.” Ken tried again, attacking it from a different angle. “Barbie said the longer she was here, the more she kept changing. Barbies never got sick before. But she had to see a human doctor, and she started making her own food and eating it. Sandwiches. And her flat feet never went away.” Ken’s distress was evident, but you weren’t sure what he was getting at, couldn’t see what panicked him so much about this topic.

“I don’t understand. What are you saying, Ken?” You tried to keep yourself casual, so as not to freak him out even further; he’d already begun pacing, boots clacking against your kitchen tile with each step.

“I’m saying that the longer I stay here, the less I’m going to be like… how I was.” He sounded so unsure, on the precipice of a conclusion, fearful of what he might learn. “Don’t you get it? I’ll have to brush my hair. Call the dentist. Pay taxes. Wear deodorant. I might get a breakout on my chin, just like Barbie did.” The last part sounded like the nail in the coffin for Ken, who looked weak just recalling the memory.

“Taxes? But you don’t have a job, do you? For all the city knows, you don’t even exist.”

“That’s not the point, (Y/N)! I’ll have to get a job.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. So… it sounds like you’ll become less like a doll?”

“Exactly. And I’ll have to do it alone.” Ken was silent, pensive as you let his confession settle. Perhaps it wasn’t the changes that he dreaded.

It was doing it without any support.

“I see. So you’ll have to sleep. You’ll have to eat. Is that scaring you?” Your intention was to minimize these facts of daily human life, shrink them down to manageable tasks, not to trivialize his valid concerns.

Ken hollowed his cheek, bit the skin in between his teeth and looked around for something to focus on while he reflected on what you asked. Noticing the cage you had set up for your guinea pig, Ken crouched in front of it without so much as a knee crack, raising his eyebrows up inquisitively.

“Who’s this?”

“I should’ve introduced you to her earlier. She’s my guinea pig, her name’s Willa. See her long hair? It’s really beautiful, but she’s pretty high maintenance.” 

Sounds like someone else in this room.

Being so close to Willa appeared to calm Ken down, and you watched his shoulders drop slightly, saw the veins in his neck depress, growing less agitated. “Does she have to brush her hair?”

The cookbooks, grocery lists, the banana had inspired Ken to ask countless questions, but meeting Willa, Ken merely watched in quiet awe.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his purported  jab. “I help her with it every day. She’s got a special little brush.”

“Hers is longer than mine. At least she gets some assistance.”

Ken sighs deeply, not taking his eyes off tiny caramel colored Willa, who has no idea what’s happening, just lounges in the paper substrate fleece and wiggles her nose up at the blonde staring her down. He rubs meager circles on his knees as if to soothe himself, then sighs again, long and dramatic. From minute to minute, Ken’s moods shift so drastically – he could be lovingly describing his newfound obsession with bananas and then just as easily pivot to jealousy over a guinea pig receiving grooming services from its owner. Decoding him was like whiplash.

“Ken?”

“I’ve been putting off thinking about this part.”

“You mean losing your doll-ness?”

“Yeah.” Ken’s voice is small, terrified, unbefitting of how he presented himself. Put together, well dressed, toned, tanned, oozing with charm. It all dissipated with his answer. 

With your foot, you push out the dining table chair adjacent to you, the scrape spooking Ken as he jumps. “Why don’t you come sit here and talk with me? You can bring Willa, she likes making friends. Just be mindful of her.” Nervous, Ken obliges, sticks a hand into her enclosure and waits for Willa to crawl over to him. 

To your shock, she comes without a moment’s hesitation, nosing at his palm and blinking at him. Willa ardently disapproved of your last boyfriend, and she never seemed to like the odd hookup you’d bring over after your explosive breakup. She’d ignore any man in the apartment for the most part, but you couldn’t believe how easy it had been for her to warm up to Ken, snuggling up to him already. 

“Wow. She normally doesn’t like strangers.” 

“Looks like she prefers your friends. She’s so soft,” Ken notes, temporarily forgetting about the needling anxiety he’d been expressing to you, and sits down. At your table Ken seemed larger than life, so full of color and irresistible personality. The most interesting irregularity you had ever entertained. He flattened the backs of his hands on the placemat and smiled down shyly at Willa, gentle like he was convinced the tiniest movement could hurt her.

(A smile that had the power to devastate – could ruin your life, could make you want to throw it all away just to know him; a smile that Ken saved specifically for a defenseless creature that nibbed at his thumbnail.) 

“Go ahead and pet her! They like that,” you encouraged Ken, denying the lump in your throat, who obeys and brings a steady forefinger to Willa’s back, warily petting her in one stunted action. Willa rustles, but doesn’t flee or make any noises contesting his presence. “She might try to run away, so just make sure you keep an eye on her.”

“I promise I will, (Y/N). How old is she?”

“She’s two and a half.” You raise your eyes to Ken, who’s entranced by the small animal and her lustrous coat, indifferent to his surroundings now that he’s connected with this hairy comrade. “How old are you?”

“I have no idea. How old are you?” 

This shouldn’t have surprised you at this point. Nothing could catch you off guard now as you went down the list, dedicating yourself wholly to figuring out what to do with this guy. Given how unadjusted he is to the world, is Ken your responsibility now? What would happen to him if he went out, unprepared, unassimilated, and tried to do things like get a job, buy something from the store? Had he ever seen currency before? 

Would you have to teach Ken math? You failed calculus. More than once. This wasn’t boding well.

“I’m twenty five. You don’t have a birthday?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s how you keep track of your age. Could you look at me for a second? Maybe I can try and guess.” Ken’s reluctant to stop looking at Willa, but does as you say, and it strikes you to admire him overtly like this, free from the guise of contrived modesty, not hiding how strongly you want to see him. He’s open, almost tranquil, those wide eyes continuously following yours, every single aspect of his demeanor softening the more you drink him in.

You couldn’t help but freeze. Pinning him. You could hear the robins chirping outside on the patio. Buses shuttling along on the road outside. Your blood pumping in your fingers, the hot curl of desire in your stomach. At once, everything felt vibrant, felt… exceptional.

Because of him.

Blonde angel, almost porcelain. Kind with your pet. Enthralled with the simplest items you owned. Eager to assist you with any task, however minor. Naively trusting. 

Blind to the ways this world could twist and chew you up. Brand new.

You wouldn’t ever be the source of pain for Ken. In that moment, searching his stark blue eyes for an answer to a question you couldn’t articulate, you wrote it on your heart, that no matter what happened – whether Ken stayed in your life, as a friend or something more – you would never hurt him.

You don’t even remember what you were trying to do with him. Mesmerized, you simply just enjoyed the sight, at a loss for words. What was there to say that wouldn’t fizzle out and die on your lips?

How are you real? (He wasn’t.)

How did you get here? (He’d waited for you.)

Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

“(Y/N)? Did you calculate it yet? Maybe it’ll be easier if I unbutton my jacket. Willa, stay put, I need to do something,” It flew over your head, you couldn’t hear what he said, just gawked and felt your pulse thrum as Ken started to undo the top of his denim jacket. Deft fingers working, you had to be aware of how affected you looked. You couldn’t hide it.

To see more of Ken’s chest physically pained you – it hurt to look, hurt to squirm and act like it wasn’t overwhelming, burning you up. He showed off his defined, carved muscle, smooth and enticing like a joke or something. 

Willa sniffed the salt and pepper shaker, not moving even a millimeter away from Ken as he undid the last button with a muffled pop. 

Where wisps of blonde hair would’ve led down to the tip of Ken’s waistband, there was nothing, just more of that milky white skin, blameless and pure and teasing. Where ribs should have anatomically been, his chest expanded then deflated, ripples of flesh rolling, then relaxing.

All of him on display. All of him so… bare.

Well – not all of him. Not yet.

You hadn’t felt anything like this before, not ever. You were experienced – you weren’t uneducated when it came to sex, or… pleasure. Yet it was impossible that you’d felt true desire in the past, even for the man you’d fallen in love with and been betrayed by, because those memories shriveled in comparison to what you felt in this moment, seeing Ken like this, expectant and unrestrained and so fiercely magnetizing. You saw your future, you saw his body, you saw Ken’s long eyelashes fluttering and pretty like a girl’s, and it was too fucking much, louder than your heart slamming inside your chest.

You began to question if you were even real. If this was happening. Maybe you were the lifeless doll. Harsh stings peppered out along the slope of your neckline – for the second time since meeting Ken, did that really just happen today? – and you made the horrible mistake of telling him the truth just as he was starting to visibly fidget, awaiting your reply.

“(Y/N)? Is this helping? If not, I can –”

“You’re so goddamned gorgeous. Fuck.” 

“What?” Ken blinked, taken aback. He looked like he wanted to say more, to press you, but he couldn’t form a response. 

“I’m. Jesus. I am so sorry, Ken. That wasn’t appropriate at all. I’m… supposed to be helping you. I’m sorry.” Dizzyingly, you shot to your feet, dug your heels against the floor just to feel grounded, and reached over the table for your purse. 

Weren’t you the one supposed to be in charge of boundaries? Teaching Ken how to act, how not to rush things when you met someone you wanted to get to know? 

Ken had flushed a deep shade of peach, an obvious blush that mottled his neck and spread out to his clavicles, nearly reaching his shoulder tips. 

“Did I do something wrong? Can you please tell me what it was?” Ken urged, pupils the size of saucers and still dancing to follow your every move. His face was frantic, lips parted revealing more of his perfect teeth, just another element of his perfect face, everything so perfect about him, and your headache threatened to return in full force.

“No – no, you didn’t, Ken. I promise. I just need to go outside and smoke, it’s not your fault, okay? Can you please stay here with Willa? I’ll only be a minute.”

Ken clearly didn’t know what you meant, or what smoking entailed, but he stayed fused to the chair, biting at his lip again in fragile confusion and not daring to abandon Willa. Fumbling for your lighter through the fabric, you caught the unmistakable downturn of rejection swimming across his features, and the notion that you might have inadvertently let him down made you sicker than the intense wave of lust that had just crashed over you, almost crumbling you, reducing you to nothing but a star cursed to orbit a bigger, more important planet. 

#ken #ryan gosling #ken barbie #barbie movie #ken x reader #ken x fem reader #ryan gosling ken #female reader

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Hollow Men

Part 1, part 2

Part three of The Way the Stars Love the Heavens series.

Contains: Fluff, slow burn, unresolved feelings, angst, violence, blood, death, a cliffhanger. Not beta read, likely full of mistakes.

Follow #the way the stars love the heavens for updates

2.9K words

This is the way the world ends

You stood in the briefing room with all eyes on you, and Price had a smile a mile wide on his face. Your translations were front and centre, and your laptop, which someone must have collected from your office, was open on the table. Price nodded a greeting to everyone as they walked in, then gestured towards you. "The boys gave me the rundown but I want to hear it right from you."

You blinked, unsure of what he was talking about. "It's all in the files sir, I'm not quite sure what more I can offer." There was that look from Ghost again, the same one he gave you when you stopped yourself from telling them about the American theory.

Price nodded. "We all know how thorough your work is y/n, that's not the issue here. I want to hear what you think, not want you know."

You took a deep breath, there was no point in protesting again. "He's in his late thirties to early forties, from the south and highly educated, but it came late, my guess is in the military. He acts like he likes the person he's talking to but he doesn't and judging by the last few communications, he's planning something big." 

Price reached into his vest and pulled a memory card out. "So far, all your translations have been from text right?" You nodded, and he continued. "How long would it take you to translate a disguised voice?" 

He handed you the card and you understood what he was asking. "A few seconds, I wouldn't even need to do anything, there's software that will clean it." You placed the card into your laptop and started the programs, and a stillness fell over the room as it worked through the file. 

The speakers popped to life, and a voice came through them. "Yeah, yeah, I get you. But now that it's done, I'm not going to be his bitch boy anymore." 

"You were right, love." Ghost turned to the group, his eyes hard and filled with anger. "That's Graves." 

Soap had told you everything that went down in Las Alams, you knew this was serious. "Umm, I'm going to go, I'm probably just going to get in the way now." 

"You'll stay right where you are." The only time Ghost had been that curt with you was the first time you met, and it lasted a total of two hours. "Who do you think he's talking to?" 

You thought for a moment, going back over all his conversations in your head. "I think it's someone on the outside, someone he complains to. And I think the person he's referring to is now very dead or about to be." 

You were waiting for the blow up, for someone to finally crack and for the rage to pour free. After everything they went through, you could only imagine how they felt. 

"I need to contact Los Vaqueros and let them know that Las Almas might be in danger." You understood why Alejandro was so upset, after the dust settled with Hassan, the 141 returned to Las Almas to finally stamp out the cartel. Alejandro and Rudy only agreed to join now because they knew their home was safe. 

Price nodded. "Go, we'll send some axillary men. We don't want you and Rudy to go home just yet." He swallowed and turned back to you. "Is there anything else you can tell us? I don't care how small it is."

You took a deep breath, you weren't used to being this important. "I know he's planning something. At first, he seemed unsure of himself, like he was figuring everything out but after a while, that went away. It would take me hours to explain word choice and syntax and punctuation, it might be time you don't have."

"Then you better talk fast because we need to know whatever's in your brain." For the first time, you wished Ghost didn't have so much faith in you.

****

They never interrupted, but the questions came thick and fast, and the more they learned, the more complex the questions got. It felt like you were teaching them linguistics and psychology all at once. But the room got tenser the more you talked, and there was clearly something they were understanding that you weren't. By the time you were done, they all looked ready to kill.

"I'm going to take all of this to Laswell, you should be ready to roll out at a moment's notice." Price's tone was short, you had no idea what was going on, and he left in such a hurry that you knew something was wrong.

"Did I do something wrong? Please tell me I didn't neglect to tell you something important?" Your thoughts started to race, something very serious was going on.

Soap shook his head. "No doll, you didn't. You've been a big help, really." When he saw that his words brought you no comfort, he kept going. "You wouldn't have known the stuff you told us was important unless you had worked with Graves. Really, y/n, you're a lifesaver."

You breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Oh thank God, I was really starting to like this job."

The room let out a chuckle and everyone started to pile out, just as you crossed the threshold, Ghost turned to you and stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. "I'm posting men outside your office and dorm when we're not here and I don't want you taking your morning walk alone anymore." His tone left no room for argument.

"Am I in danger?" It was the last place you'd expect to be at risk, despite the circumstances, you had always felt safe on base.

He shook his head. "No, but I just want to make sure. Graves is a bad man and if he thinks you helping us will end him, he will do anything to stop that." You understood what he was saying, trust no one. "I'll assign them personally, you don't need to worry about that." 

You nodded. "Ok then. Thank you for listening to me today, it really means the world to me that you guys think what I have to say matters." 

You could see the smile in his eyes as he reached up to brush your cheek with the back of his hand. "We'll pick up that other conversation, love, I just gotta deal with this first." 

You truly hoped whatever they were doing wouldn't take long, you might explode if you had to wait any longer to tell him the truth about how you felt about him. "I'd like that." 

****

The base was a rush for hours before you saw Ghost again and when he knocked on your office door, he wasn't alone.

"Y/n, this is Denise Peters and Arin Moss. Moss will be on the day shift and Peters will be on the night shift. You do not leave their sight." It was a small base and you had talked to both of them before, they both seemed alright. Peters was a little too arrogant for your tastes, but none of that mattered, if Ghost trusted them, so did you.

You nodded. "Alright. Maybe it will be good to have an extra pair of hands."

He smiled, waved them away and closed the door before sitting on the corner of your desk. "I think we have something to talk about love?" He paused and reached up, pulling his mask free as he leaned in close. His umber eyes looked over your face, and you placed a hand on his cheek as he brought his hand up so he could stoke your face.

You were too caught up in the moment to utter the words, he already knew anyway, he made that much clear every time he looked at you. "We do."

You leaned in closer, resting your forehead on his as you brushed his nose with yours. Your lips touched in a barely there graze and his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck as he shifted to pull you closer. You were stuck between confessing and finally kissing him but it seemed Simon had made up his mind because your lips brushed again as he went to speak. "Y/n, love. I love.."

"Ghost wheels up in ten." You glared at the flung open door, Price was standing there stock still, staring at both of you, his eyes going back and forth as he figured out what to do.

Simon had pulled away from you and was pulling his mask back over his face when you lost it. "You have the worst fucking timing known to man, did you know that?"

He nodded and glanced at the floor. "It seems so." His face fell and he gave you an apologetic look. "There's no time to continue your conversation, I'm sorry."

He left and Ghost followed, his hand lingering in yours as he went. "I'll be back soon love."

You nodded. "Yeah, be safe." You daren't say the words, it felt like bad luck.

****

It had been three long days since they left, with only a few words over the radio since and to say you were over it was an understatement. Arin Moss was a jovial young man who could talk for hours, he made Simon being away easy. But Peters was only just tolerable, he kept his distance and spoke when spoken to, which got lonely after a while, no one wants to feel like their company is a chore. Despite everything, you understood why Simon assigned him to you, he picked up on every detail, and you never needed to tell him something twice.

Tonight was no different, you were in the small kitchen getting a snack while he stood against the wall eating an apple and you must have said two words to each other since he started his shift. "You seem busy tonight?"

You blinked away your shock and nodded. "Yeah, I'm working on an old stone tablet, I tend to get lost in the dusty stuff."

He let out a single laugh. "Why didn't you go into archaeology?" The sudden interest in you felt strange but there was no one else to talk to, the 141 section of the base was always quiet.

You snorted. "I have a PhD in it, I'm just better with languages." Had it been one of the guys who had asked, you would have given more detail but something told you Peters wasn't interested in an explanation.

"Wow. You're a smart women, I can see why Ghost likes you so much." That struck you as odd, he normally worked in another building and unlike most bases, there wasn't a lot of gossip going around. 

You took your grilled cheese out of the sandwich press and turned it off before offering him half, along with a question. "What makes you say that?" 

He flashed you a slight smile. "He's put two men on you to keep you safe, he wouldn't do that if he didn't care about you." 

You nodded. "I guess you're...." 

BANG BANG BANG 

"What the hell was that?" He looked around and handed you back the plate. "I don't know but I'm going to go see what it was. Stay here." 

He ran off and you went to sit down and eat but before you pulled out your chair, there was another bang, louder this time, then alarms started to go off. 

The base was under attack. 

The chuff chuff of a helicopter sounded overhead and your heart started to race, and the air was filled with the sound of gunshots. Another bang, this one had you getting up and to shut and lock the door, it sounded like a door close by had just been broken open. Then more shooting and men yelling, it was getting closer and closer. 

The guys had told you what to do if this ever happened, grab the closest weapon and use it on anyone you didn't recognise, so that's what you did. You went to the draw and, grabbed the longest knife you could find and waited. It didn't take long, the light flickered and you saw men rushing by in the door's small glass window before the lights went out and you were bathed in almost darkness that made it hard to see anything. 

You protested at first when the 141 wanted you to join them while they trained, you had to meet basic firearms and hand to hand proficiency to work on the base, you could look after yourself. But right now, crouched behind the door frame, ready to stab the first person through the door, you were grateful they had insisted. 

There was no call out as the footsteps got closer and you knew what was coming, the handle twisted and the door opened and you lunged. You topped your class in Biology, you didn't need anyone to tell you where to aim the knife. The feeling was strange as the knife went into his neck, hard and soft all at once. He made a strange sound and you shoved him away from you, the blade staying in your hand as he fell. 

Your eyes had adjusted to the dark by now and you looked down at the man, he was reaching for his gun but his hands were failing him and with one more beat of his heart, he was dead. The adrenaline racing through your veins made it hard to feel anything but the urge to run but you were aware of the wet metallic stickiness that was clinging to parts of you. 

There were more gunshots, the muzzle flashes lighting up the hallway as they went off. You went over to the body and grabbed what you could, his custom helmet and vest were out of the question but his crackling radio would at least help if more were coming, so would his gun. 

You had to get out of the kitchen and walking through the door wasn't an option, neither was waiting but you didn't have the chance to think because another round of gunshots went off and then there was another flash of movement in the hallway and the dead body in the room had stolen the element of surprise. 

You didn't get the chance to raise the gun before you were bodyslammed into the kitchen counter. "You struggle and I hurt you." You didn't listen and a swift kick to his groin had him going limp and doubling over. You thought fast and grabbed the sandwich press before swinging it down onto the unprotected back of his neck. 

You threw the appliance down on his back and took your only option and ran, but he had recovered and yanked your ankle hard, you managed to grab the edge of the table to soften your way down. He pulled himself towards you as you tried to pull yourself away but it was too late and he was pissed. "I told you I hurt.." 

BANG

Someone grabbed the back of your shirt as the body fell on top of you and pulled you up, it was Peters. He looked at the other body on the floor and gave you a nod. "Good fucking work." He listened to his cracking radio and looked around. "We need to go now."

You nodded. "If you can get me to my office I can get us out, there's an old service door behind the shelves."

He placed a hand on your shoulder and all but pushed you out the door. "I think I can but you stay behind me, and if I'm shooting at something, you shoot too."

It felt strange to accept that so readily, killing was easier than you thought it would be. You had made it halfway down the hall before it started away, it was hard to suppress the urge to duck as the shooting roared behind you, even more so when Peters shot a man who popped up out of a connecting hallway in your path.

There were bodies everywhere, both sides, and it struck you as strange that you were almost at your door with only one encounter. "What's going on?"

He didn't glance back. "What do you think. We're almost there."

You didn't relax when you reached your office, even as he cleared the room so you could go inside. You ran over to the shelving and he helped you push it aside. A few hard pushes on the door got it open and he pointed his gun down the tunnel as he looked both ways before waving you in.

There was even less light here, and Peters' flashlight and the one you had taken from the dead man only did so much. The door shutting didn't give you any relief, they had to have had the blueprints and it was only a matter of time before they came looking. For a moment, your thoughts drifted to Simon, you hoped he was on his way back here but deep down, you knew that communication would have been the first thing they took out.

Your mind raced to find something that told you who these men were but there was nothing, the dead man's uniform and the bodies around the hallways didn't have any patches on their vests, just grenades and magazines.

You paused in the hallway and looked at to the door as your blood ran cold. "What is it?"

You swallowed, you hoped your lie was convincing. "Nothing, I'm just worried about the guys."

The clicking of a holster told you he didn't buy it.

"What gave me away?"

Part 4

@chaos-4baby

#simon riley/you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley/reader #the way the stars love the heavens #call of duty

[realmofvoxtv]

Theories about Vox's and Alastor's Past

SPOILERS: If you have not watched episode 8 or just season one please read this post later. Also these are theories. These may predict future plot reveals idk.

Trigger Warning: Brief mentions of a toxic/abusive relationships. I mention Valentino too. Please continue with caution. Also, I mention Alastor's possible past as a killer.

So, we got a pretty BIG reveal in episode 8. Which is the photo below:

So, Vox and Alastor have more of a history than what many people believed. Let's first take some notes about the photo.

1. Alastor has his pilot suit

2. This photo is in black and white

3. Vox's screen looks different, it looks like an older model.

4. Vox and Alastor are pretty close together (this is important later).

Ok, let's talk about a few things.

1. Alastor's pilot suit.

This could be reference to the pilot. Or maybe his change is a reference to how, apparently, Alastor has made a deal and may not even own his soul.

2. The photo is in black and white.

And 3. Vox's screen likes like an older model.

Given how Vox seems to be ALL about updating and keeping up with the times, I don't think he was like pretending to be old fashioned for Alastor in recent or present times.

So, odds are this was AGES ago in hell. Like shortly after Vox died. I would say 1950s-1960s.

4. Vox and Alastor are pretty close together.

Now I think this is something important to mention. So far it seems like Alastor has this disconnection from most other males. Alastor mentions his mother in the pilot, but he has yet to mention his father.

He has this hatred for Lucifer (Charlie's DAD and Lilith's HUSBAND).

And at BEST Alastor respects Zestial (A powerful and OLDER MALE overlord). And at WORST he fears Zestial.

Sidenote: Look at that scene between Zestial and Alastor. It really looks like Alastor panics when he realizes that he (Alastor) is losing the respect of people in hell.

So given all of this, Alastor having mostly female friends, and mentioning his mother. But not mentioning his father, and even seeming to feel this need for respect and control (check back on his song in episode 8). I really do think it's possible that Alastor had a father who was in his life. But his father may have instilled fear and the need to gain respect, and perhaps the way Alastor was raised. Alastor felt the need to gain control in his life. (Sidenote: If he did indeed hurt/end people while alive, it's possible that was the driving force).

So the fact that Alastor was standing so close to Vox. And long enough for a photo to be taken? (Sidenote: If this is an old photo, I'm sure this photo would have taken a while to snap. Also is the camera being held by someone else or on a tripod or something? (Remember that this is probably in the 1950s-1960s)). This is important. This tells me that Alastor and Vox, at the time, trusted each other.  

So what happened?

Well, let’s go over Alastor's history since we have more of that as of now. 

Alastor lived through the Great Depression, and died AT LEAST after the 1920s my best guess is 1930s - 1940s.

He arrived in hell, and according to Vaggie in the pilot, and Mimzy, he wiped out some of the most powerful and eldest Overlords with ease. 

IMPORTANT: I think Alastor made this deal shortly after he appeared in hell. His power had to have come from somewhere.

And seven years ago, he disappeared. And only recently he has re-appeared. 

Also despite killing overlords and hating new stuff, he allowed Vox around him for that photo. 

Now about Vox. It's try to make some sense of his timeline. Apparently the first tv's appeared in 1927. But they only become really popular around 1946 - 1951. So it's likely that Vox and Alastor DID NOT meet each other when they were humans. So, he likely fell some time between 1950 - 1960. HOWEVER, if Alastor did encounter primitive tvs in 1927 to whenever died. It make sense that Alastor would originally accept Vox's presence. 

IMPORTANT: I am now sure that Vox died at least before 1970s. As that’s when colored cameras were popularized. And again that photo was in black and white.

So, what happened between them. Well I have some ideas and supporting evidence. 

1. Vox and Alastor made a bet/deal and Vox won. 

We hear in episode 2 from Valentino that Alastor owes Valentino and Vox something. It is possible that Vox and Alastor similar to Husk and Alastor. Made a bet, in which whoever wins gets the loser's soul. However, Alastor lost and maybe since he doesn't own his soul, he's able to attack Vox. Meanwhile Vox is shocked, as he's weirded out that Alastor is still able to move and (apparently) still has his soul. Perhaps in this theory Vox thought that Alastor found a loophole. 

Perhaps Valentino gets involved, and that's how he loses his antenna. Maybe Alastor realized that his secret may be out. And he brought out an angelic weapon trying to end Vox and Valentino. But instead, he has to flee. Also, Vox has a crooked antenna too. Maybe a result of Alastor?

Also, in episode 2, Vox says that they must prevent Charlie from making a deal with Alastor. Interesting...

IDK though where Vox inviting Alastor to the team fits in this theory. Maybe this battle happens after Alastor rejects Vox's offer. 

2. One of them saved the other's life

In episode 8, while Alastor sings he taunts the idea that people would think that he would die and, thus, cares for the people in the Happy Hotel. What if this is something that happened between Alastor and Vox. What if when Vox was a younger sinner, he was nearly killed and Alastor came to his defense. Or perhaps it was the other way around. 

And Alastor realized that with him not owning his own soul, that he may be forced to kill Vox, like the oldest overlords. So, he cut off Vox. As he was maybe starting to care about Vox (doesn't have to be romantic). 

And perhaps that's why Vox invited Alastor to join his team (Which for sure had Vox and Valentino, idk about Velvette). As Vox wanted to have his pal back. 

Then Alastor attacks Vox to send the message to Vox. 

Also, in this theory. They were likely friends. (Remember the earliest tvs were made in 1927. So, Alastor likely had no problem with Vox's technology as it was around when he was alive, but just not common in most households. )

How close Vox and Alastor are in the photo, does support this theory. Especially since Alastor does seem to have this mistrust around males. 

Also if Vox saved Alastor's life. That would explain Valentino saying that Alastor owes them something (aka his afterlife).   

3. Alastor tried to swap places with Vox

It's possible that Alastor got close to Vox, and maybe offered Vox a deal. Which was intended to trap Vox and maybe Alastor was hoping that whoever owns his soul would instead want Vox to take leadership. And possibly free Alastor's soul. 

Remember how Vox mentioned to the other V's that they must prevent Alastor from making a deal with Charlie? Perhaps Alastor is going to order Charlie to take his place in his deal. (Remember, Charlie's only restriction is that she wouldn't hurt someone. Taking his place in his deal, doesn't directly hurt anyone). 

Anyways, Vox realizes what Alastor wanted. Maybe he tries to get Alastor more involved like joining his team. And Alastor keeps pushing a deal. And maybe Alastor or Vox snap and then they battle. 

In this theory, Alastor allowing Vox to be so close to him in a photo. Likely would've been an act to pretend that he trusts Vox. 

Also, in this theory, maybe Alastor was training Vox to be like him. That way he would be the perfect replacement for his deal. This would also explain Vox's similarities to Alastor. 

Maybe whoever owns Alastor's soul, realized his plans and intentions. And that's why Alastor disappeared for 7 years. He was being reminded to never betray them. 

4. Perhaps Valentino and maybe Velvette, drove Alastor apart from Vox and vice versa. 

We know Vox invited Alastor to join his "team". That hints that at least one more V member was in the team. Likely Valentino. 

Remember Alastor's possible past with his father and his fear/hatred of certain male figures. It's possible that such a male sinner like Valentino drove a divide between Alastor and Vox. Perhaps Valentino even framed Vox or Alastor. Which drove them to battle. Vox and Valentino get hurt. And Alastor disappears for 7 years.

So even though in this theory, Alastor once trusted Vox. He doesn't anymore. 

So that's all. Share your thoughts below!

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel vox #vox #hazbin vox #hazbin alastor #hazbin theory #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin spoilers

[heyidkyay]

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty

A/n: Hello lovelies:)! Part 20 is here!! Felt like I owed you lot a quicker update after the last and it's a much longer one than usual too! It's probably my favourite so far actually, so I hope you enjoy x

| Just a brief mention- this chapter has a lot of different scenes! You'll understand more of what I mean as you read on but a lot happens! ALSO I'm nowhere near fluent in the language used in this part, I did it as a gcse and that's about it. So pls don't slew me in the replies! Thanksssss, love you lots!

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Thievery. (yes.) ummm, swearing's always a given, a grumpy Ross too... lots of fluff and fun though? Or bits and pieces of it at least. Oh and a little ribbing against Americans but they're alllll just stereotypes!! And I do love you lot so it's not said nastily x

Feel like a lot could go wrong with this part, pls don't hate me😅

Masterlist

—

“Alright. Start packing.”

I frowned over at the suitcase Matty had thrown onto my bed.

“For what?” I replied from where I was perched on the window seat, knees tucked up under my chin with a book in hand. It was one of the three places I’d taken to hiding in since my last outing at Delia’s a couple of days ago. Hiding seemed like the best option right now.

“Airport.” Matty told me in prompt, already having walked his way over towards my chest of drawers and begun pulling out an array of tops. He wrinkled his nose between two and then glanced at me from over his shoulder, “Why do you have two of the same fucking shirt?”

With a crease between my brow, I fixed him with a halfhearted glower. “Says you. And why are you headed to the airport?”

“We.” Matty corrected casually, flinging a pair of denim shorts onto the bed. “Why are we headed to the airport. And well, ’cause we are.” He gave me a simple shrug as though things were that easy.

“Matty…” I tried, wearily shuffling forward out of my comfortable position so that I could move closer to him. “What do you mean? Why are we going to the airport?”

“Because,” He drawled out, still riffling through the top drawer of my dresser, “Airports are where planes take off, you know, those big metal birds you see in the sky.”

“Right. Yeah. I get that.” I answered him, absolutely baffled. “But why?”

“Why what?”

I groaned and Matty flashed me a shit-eating grin, obviously pleased with himself.

“Why are we going to the airport, Matty!”

“‘Cause we’re getting on one of those metal birds.”

“Matty, we are not getting on a fucking plane.” I denied, eyes as wide as saucers whilst I hastily tried to stop him from throwing any more of my wardrobe about the room. “So stop being a div and put all my shit back.”

Matty merely rolled his eyes and ignored my complaints, only turning back to face me when he held a yellow laced thong between two fingers and catapulted it at me. I scowled and swiped the offending item from off my head.

“Matty!” I stressed, getting the ump now.

“Oh, come on. Just go with it, yeah?” He said then, looking at me with a tilted head and appeasing eyes. “I figured we could both use some time to just chill, relax even. And the only time I’ve ever felt closer to being exactly that was when we were sixteen and in Tenerife.”

I blinked back at him owlishly, not really internalising his words. “The holiday with your dad and Lou?” 

Matty started nodding away at me in reply before he spun back around and headed for the sliding door that hid the rest of my clothes. “Exactly! Figured a couple days spent lounging under the Spanish sun might do us both some good.”

I gaped at his retreating back, beyond bewildered at this point.

“Are you being serious?”

“When have I ever fucking joked about a holiday, darlin'?” He quipped right back and I had to card a hand through my hair in attempt to try and wrap my head around things.

Now that I was actually messing with it I figured my hair probably needed a wash, but even so I couldn’t linger too much on that thought, not when Matty was apparently jetting off to Tenerife with a suitcase full of my clothes!

“Matty, just… please slow down, would you?” I murmured, tugging at my scalp as I glanced about my room that was in sudden disarray. 

Matty pivoted on his heel to face me, a couple hangers dangling off the crook of his elbow. I shook my head and chose not to focus on that, nor the loose strands of hair that fell into my face.

“I can’t just go to Tenerife!” I told him imploringly, “Are you actually insane?”

I was met with a pinched expression and thin lipped smile, “Why not?”

I spluttered at him. “Why not?! Because I’ve got things keeping me here! Like my next check up, and my job at Delia’s! My fucking arm is still in a cast, Matty! And I still struggle to get in and out of bed most days! How the hell am I meant to get on a plane to Spain?”

Matty’s stance seemed to shift upon hearing my worries and so he dropped the bundle of clothes he held, I tried not to wince at the motion even as he trod over them to stand closer to me. 

“Love, listen to me, yeah? You’ll be back in time for your next appointment, we’ll be gone a couple days max. And Delia doesn’t need you anywhere near her shop until you’re right as rain again.” His eyes were searching mine, he had a careful hand on my shoulder. “Besides the excuse about your arm is utter crap, and you are getting better. So much so in fact, that even Dr Mann reckons a bit of sun will do you some good.”

I frowned. “You spoke to Dr Mann?”

Matty gifted me lopsided smile, “‘Course I did. She even recommended a couple of sunscreens to me and insisted I buy you one of those umbrella hats to keep the sun off your giant head.”

I glared at him. “You better fucking not.”

That smile of his started to grow and his eyebrows lifted in excitement the second I realised what I’d just said. “So, is that a yes then?”

I chewed on my lower lip, gaze darting between Matty’s own ruddy brown and then swallowed thickly.

“‘Spose so.” I mumbled with only a tiny knot of anxiety welling in my stomach. 

Matty grinned brightly and I couldn’t help my light chuckles when he started jumping about excitedly, looking like a Labrador that’d just been let of its lead. 

“Fucking Tenerife baby, here we come!” 

—

“I hate airports.”

“Ditto.”

“Is that even a thing here?”

“What, ditto?”

I hummed, eyes searching the terminal.

“Reckon so.”

“Maybe it’s one of those many American things you’ve picked up.” I teased, “Traitor to your own, you are.”

“Leave off.” Matty chuckled at me from where he was hidden under a pair of black sunglasses.

“You gonna start spelling colour wrong and try wearing pants instead of trousers now too?”

He scowled, even from behind his darkened shades I could tell, it was all in the mouth with Matty. It typically flattened and forced itself out into a sarky sort of smile whenever he wasn't very impressed.

“Ha ha, hilarious. That the best you got?” He shot back.

“Nah, could talk about your brash arrogance too, but I reckon that’s just a you thing as well as an American one.”

Matty scoffed, “Just ‘cause I own it, love, don’t make it a bad thing.”

I widened my eyes sarcastically at him in reply before glancing out over the runway.

We were currently hidden away in the First class lounge, him in a cap and shades, me in a hoodie and beanie. There weren’t too many people mulling about, though it was rather late and our flight wasn’t set to take off until just gone eleven. Currently it was only nearing a quarter past ten.

“Excited then?” Matty asked me, drawing my attention back to him.

Was I excited? I guess so, but also anxious. I was an alright flyer, mainly due to having been Matty’s main distraction during all our years spent travelling together, but after the accident everything sort of felt different. I was different.

I kept on waiting for that burst of adrenaline to kick in and bubble over, the type I often got whenever one of the guys roped me into something stupidly spontaneous, but it had yet to even spark.

I nodded at Matty though, foot tapping aimlessly away beside my carryon. “Think so, just nervous.”

“That’s meant to be my job.”

We shared a knowing smile, but then I shrugged. “Dunno, just feels strange. Think I’ll be more enthusiastic about it once we land and get to the hotel.” I paused for a second then and darted my head over in his direction, “You did book a hotel though, right?”

His eyebrows rose high up over his sunglasses just as his mouth dropped. “Oh fuck.”

My eyes widened in alarm, already moving to grab my phone so that we could start a search. But Matty’s snickering caught me just before I could. I shot him a harsh glare in retort and shoved at his shoulder when I realised he’d just been having me on.

“You’re such a dick.”

“I couldn’t not.” He snorted, face full of amusement. Though with another shove Matty relented and slung an arm across my shoulders to drag me in, “Don’t worry, I sorted it all. You’ll love it and we’ll have a sick time.”

“You better fucking hope so.”

—

The flight had been alright, a bit of turbulence to deal with as well as a whinging Matty, but other than that, it’d been fine. Customs had also been quite the breeze, seeing as we’d landed in the early hours of the morning and my semi-conversant Spanish had come in handy with one of the security officers. It was just the car ride over to where we were staying that really fucked us.

Matty had originally hired a car to pick us up from the airport but it’d cancelled on us at the very last second, and trying to get hold of a taxi driver that was willing to take us as far as we were looking to go proved to be a rather difficult task.

When we finally did though- after one bloke with a bleached goatee had practically doubled the original asking price- the journey had been bumpy enough that I’d had to fight with my suitcase in the backseat just to get a hold of my painkillers. Matty had tried to help of course, but it’d been a struggle to even breathe in the tiny cab, let alone have him move around and find them for me.

So by the time we arrived I was shot to hell and beyond thankful to escape the stupid car and its extremely boisterous owner.

“You alright?” Matty asked me quietly once he’d reluctantly paid the man, rolling his eyes at the twat when the car pulled away from the curb, muttering under his breath.

“Yeah, just wanna sit down.” I replied uncomfortably, but that was before I finally caught sight of the building we’d pulled up outside. “Fucking hell, Matty.”

When I glanced back over at him, he was wearing the biggest smirk anybody could’ve possibly mustered. “Snazzy, ey?”

Fuck snazzy. It was insane. I’d been way off when I’d asked him about the hotel booking, because he’d only gone and rented out an entire sodding villa.

“You’re mental.”

“Been calling me that a lot, as of late.” Matty noted, pursing his lips at me whilst he braced himself against his suitcase, “Bit mean if you think about it actually, seeing as I’ve done all this for us.”

My smile was soft, tired, but oh so genuine when I peered back over at him, and caught him a tad off guard when I wrapped my one good arm around his middle. “You are mental but you’re also amazing. So thank you.”

He squeezed me back, cautious of my torso when he did, before we parted ways and he gestured his head over towards the front door. “You wanna stand outside all day then or are we headed in?”

—

The villa was incredible. Honestly, it felt like something out of a dream. 

We had our very own bar, pool, hot-tub, sauna and gym, even a pizza oven which resided right beside the built in fire-pit! Not that either Matty or I would be going anywhere near it, ovens back home were hard enough to handle and one with an open flame was not something we could get behind, even sober.

Speaking of being sober though, Matty had actually decided to take to it during our stay here. Alcohol wise at least… or so he claimed he’d try. But come noon our first day here and I could already tell that he was dying for a glass of wine out by the pool.

Still he didn’t, and so I simply started counting down the hours until he eventually caved.

Apparently our trip abroad hadn’t been too expected either, seeing as Ross had phoned me up the second he’d seen my instagram story and started ranting about his invitation. I’d attempted to pacify him by assuring that I hadn’t even been aware of it up until the point when Matty had come barging in the day of.

It was nice though. Getting away.

Home had just felt too confined now that I was out here. Sort of like leaving a cage you hadn’t even known you’d been trapped in.

The sun and the sea was everything I’d needed and more. It soothed my restlessness and calmed my chaotic thoughts, even dulled the ache my body was constantly in. 

“Oi, fancy heading into town? Reckon we might need more than what we picked up earlier.” 

Matty’s voice broke me from where I’d been sat daydreaming beside the pool, clad in a pair of short dungarees and a tee whilst I waded my legs back and forth through the water.

I glanced up at him, squinting in the afternoon sun. He frowned down at me in return.

“Don’t make me buy you one of those hats, ‘cause I swear I will.” Matty scolded as he made his way closer, tearing the cap he wore from off his head and placing it on mine instead. I wrinkled my nose but allowed the gesture, knowing the heat would only prey on me and my many medications. “And you’d best have sunscreen on too, I don’t need a bollocking at your next checkup, yeah?”

“Alright, dad. Calm down, would you? I put it on after I showered.” I told him with a roll of my eyes, extending an arm outwards so that he’d get the hint and help me up. He did, whilst pursing his lips in distaste- likely at the epithet used. “Besides, I thought I was meant to be relaxing. Ever since you woke up you’ve been on my case.”

“Oi,” Matty said, stopping me just before I could slip past him with a steady hand to my wrist. “It’s ‘cause I care, alright? I know you can take care of yourself but, I don’t know, it just helps ease my mind.”

I searched his expression, saw the honesty in his eyes and the sincerity that creased the skin of his forehead. Ultimately, I gave him a nod and released a sigh, “How far’s town then?”

—

“Ninety-five percent sure that that is the exact same bar we hid in when were sixteen and tried escaping from that one crazy fucker with the wooden tooth.”

I blinked at the sudden memory his comment brought forth and snorted at the picture my mind painted. “He only chased us because he thought you swiped an apple off his stall!”

“Oh yeah.” Matty chuckled then, nodding at the reminder as we wandered down a small street full of flavourful aromas. “Probably 'cause I did.”

A sharp laugh escaped me at his easy admission and I shook my head whilst attempting to dull my giggles.

“Don’t fucking laugh, it was your fault!” Matty blamed, though he was laughing lightly too even as I leaned into his side to steady myself.

“My fault!” I countered him, mouth open in shock at the blatant lie. “How was it my fault?”

“You said you were starving and it was a long walk back to the hotel! I had fuck all on me, and so I just pocketed it as we passed- it was in the moment!” He defended, taking my arm in his now, still smiling away.

“Oh fuck, I actually do remember that.” I agreed with a gleeful grin of my own, letting him lead us on further up the street at a sedated pace. “Hey- I did share it with you though. Had that barman grab us a knife for it too, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, just before you talked him into pouring the both of us shots.”

“What can I say?” I smirked over at him, “Even at sixteen I had a way with words.”

Matty snorted, “That or the fact he was mesmerised by your tits.”

I elbowed his side but failed in my attempt to dampen my grin, “Well, you got your shot, didn’t you? Made the journey home all the more exciting too.”

“That it did.” Matty smiled at me before he caught sight of something up ahead. “Why don’t we carry on the tradition, ey?”

And before I could even blink, he was out of my reach and walking away from me. My brow furrowed though I still wore a small smile, confused as I followed behind him, watching as he worked his way through the tiny market before us and up to the top of the street.

Matty rounded the corner in the next moment and so I quickened my pace to try and catch up. I found him leaning casually against a terracotta coloured wall, one ankle crossed over the other whilst he grinned like a sneaky little kid who had yet to be caught.

“What was that all about?” I asked, a tad out of breath now.

He simply shrugged and pulled the hand he’d been hiding behind his back into view. I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was, because there it was. Catching a ray of light from the slowly setting sun, was a bright red apple.

I could only shake my head as I laughed and hurried over to join him, stealing the fruit from his grasp and taking a massive bite out of it before he could even react.

“Thief!” He gasped dramatically and I grinned around the apple I’d just eaten, feeling more like myself than I had in a long while.

“Takes one to know one, I ‘spose.”

With a sly smile, Matty snatched the apple back and bit into it too. “Where to now then?” He prompted as he offered an arm out to me, chewing carelessly away. 

“Fancy aiming any higher? Reckon there’s got to be a bank around here somewhere…”

—

“Perdón, is this seat taken?” 

I heard a strong accented voice ask from right beside me and so I peered up away from the book I'd been lost in and into the eyes of a handsome stranger.

Blinking, I looked back and forth between him and the wooden chair he was pointing to. I was quick to shake my head in retort, offering it up to him. 

“Adelante, es suya.” I said, and he smiled down at me politely before simply slipping into the seat. I was a little taken back by the gesture, having figured he’d only wanted the chair for a nearby table, seeing as the restaurant was growing more and more by the minute.

“Discúlpame, pensé que eras una chica inglesa.” He replied after he’d gotten comfortable at our little table in the corner. His Spanish caught me off guard for a moment and I took a second to translate his words in my own head. I had to laugh a little when I did, and he tilted his head towards me with a mirthful smile of his own. “¿Qué?”

“Lo siento,” I apologised, dog-earing my book before I reverted back to English. “It’s just that, I am English.”

His eyebrows rose and I watched as his eyes quickly trailed up and down my figure. He appeared shocked almost. “I should be the one saying sorry!” He hurried to cajole, “I- just your Spanish, it is rather good.”

I tried to fight the unexpected blush his compliment gave me, and brushed his words off. “You’re fine, I’m just glad I didn’t offend you with my pronunciation.”

“No, no. Honest. I didn’t think anything of it.” He told me, and he seemed truthful. “Forgive me, but where did you learn?”

“Oh, from a family friend.”

In truth, I’d only picked it up from one of my mum’s many boyfriends. He’d lived with us the longest and had an elderly grandmother who he visited infrequently. My mum had sent me with him a couple of times and the woman seemed to take to my added presence, she'd taught me most of what I now knew.

I’d stop in to see her once or twice a week, mostly on my way home from school, and continued to do so even after he and my mum had split. She’d been lovely, always made me feel safe and welcomed, but sadly passed away a few months before I’d had the chance to leave home. 

I thought of her from time to time, mostly whenever my mind wandered to thoughts of what was after all of this. If there really was something waiting up (or down, I supposed) there for us all. 

“They did an excellent job!” The stranger complimented again, and I took a moment to give him the once over. Nice smile, pretty eyes, dark hair which only complemented his olive complexion.

“Thank you.” I smiled, unable to help the small burst I pride I felt. And here I thought I’d been butchering the language this entire time!

“Of course.” And he returned the sentiment- though I silently conceded that ‘nice smile’ had been somewhat of an understatement now. “Can I ask what you are reading?”

I blinked at his question before he could catch me staring and diverted my focus over to where I’d left my book. “Oh, um, The Bell Jar?”

He hummed and went to take it. 

“May I?” He asked me before he did, and I gave him the go ahead, watched as his eyes danced across the back of the novel. “What is your favourite?”

“My favourite book?”

He replied with a soft nod and I had to think it over.

“It sounds silly, but for a long time it had always been Pride and Prejudice. I stuck by it, read it a couple dozen times, watched the film again and again, even dragged my friend along to this giant garden they’d filmed it in. Then someone gifted me One Hundred Years of Solitude and I was hooked. Completely changed me. I fell in love with it, in truth.”

His eyes seemed to brighten at the sound of the second novel, though he’d seemed truly interested in hearing my reply.

“One Hundred Years of Solitude, now that one is increíble.” He divulged me, leaning in closer to be heard over the rest of the tiny restaurant with a doting smile. “My mother, she loved it too.”

I grinned at that and continued to chat with him, first about the book, then about Spain and what I thought of life here, he noticed my cast after a long while and questioned me on it just as we were stirred from our conversation.

“Alright?” 

Was the word that clued me in to Matty’s sudden arrival and I glanced up, somewhat startled, to see him smirking down at me, eyes lingering momentarily on the stranger who sat knee to knee with me. 

“See you’ve been quick to replace me.” He teased, waving off the man’s apology and the offering of his seat. Matty instead shook his head and slotted himself into the chair opposite us, the one I’d originally been saving for him.

“You said you’d be gone ten minutes!” I laughed in reply when I’d finally pulled myself together- already far too aware of what had probably caught his eye, or rather who.

“And I apologise! Sincerely I do, with my whole entire heart even. But what was I to do when I saw a lady in need? Not stop and offer my help?” Matty replied theatrically, always in his element when putting on a show.

I hummed and raised an inquisitive brow, unable to help my sardonic smile. “And that took you nearly an hour?”

He winced slightly in jest before he relaxed back into his seat. “What can I say, I’m very… thorough.”

I grimaced around a short laugh. “What you are is an idiot.”

Matty merely grinned and gifted me a soft shrug that couldn’t be helped, before he turned towards our party’s newest addition. “Thanks for keeping her company, mate, but just who might you be?”

I went to answer for him, but came up short when I realised we had yet to even swap names. 

The man appeared to find a little amusement in it though, and glanced over towards Matty to give him his reply. “Alvaro. And I was happy to, I apologise for stealing your seat.”

With another wave of his hand, Matty shook his head good-naturedly. “You’re all good, man. ‘M Matty.”

Alvaro smiled with a dip of his head and shook Matty’s hand in greeting, before he then turned to me. I realised a little belatedly that he was now waiting on my name. Matty snorted under his breath at the wide-eyed expression I must've made and I kicked at his shin from beneath the table, ignoring his sudden scowl in favour of glancing towards the handsome stranger.

“Y/n.” I told him around a sheepish smile, but it appeared to grow when Alvaro grinned sweetly in return and pressed a gentle hand to my shoulder.

“Well, Y/n, it has truly been a pleasure.” He murmured to me, enticing eyes locked on mine as he got up from his seat and ducked down towards me. “A mí me basta con saber que tú y yo, existimos en este preciso momento.”

My breath got caught in my throat upon hearing a quote from the book we'd spoken about and it lodged itself there when the Spanish man pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.

“Hasta que nos volvamos a ver. No?”

I swallowed and nodded up at him, touching the back of his hand to show I understood before I let him pull away. I watched him go then, eyes trailing after his retreating figure until he could no longer be seen and tried to wrap my mind around the entire encounter.

“Wow.”

Inhaling sharply, I spun around in my seat to find Matty leant back in his, smirking over at me.

“What?” I questioned and pretended to take a sudden interest in the menu that had been casted to one side a long time ago.

I heard him chuckle lowly before he followed on. “Just- that. The chemistry! Christ, if you don’t shag him I think I just might.”

I couldn’t help the airy huff of laughter that escaped me then and chanced a glance over my menu to find Matty still smirking away without a care in the world.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Bollocks it wasn’t.” Matty argued and set down his own menu to lean across the table towards me. “He was proper into you. I mean, how’d you even get to talking?”

I shrugged, eyes still trained on the many appetisers the bistro had to offer. “He asked for a chair.”

“He asked for a chair?” Matty repeated, though his tone was lined with a lot more bewilderment. “You’re joking, right?”

Again, I gave him a small shrug. “I don’t know, he just asked if the seat was taken and I said he could have it, thinking another table might've needed it- but then he just sat down!”

Matty laughed loudly, a hand coming to rest on the tablecloth. “He fucking wanted you!”

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes in retort.

“I’m not messing a-fucking-bout here!” Matty stated and I watched as he shoved his sunglasses up into his frizzing curls, “He was all over you just then, and when I walked in I honestly had to do a double take when I spotted the pair of you.”

I shook my head silently.

“Come on, even you have to admit that it was a bit strange of him to just sit at a table with a complete stranger, no?”

It had been. Very ballsy. “Doesn’t mean he liked me though.”

Matty rolled his eyes then with a huff. “You’re blind. I’m telling you right now, he fancied the fuck outta you.”

I chuckled quietly and was grateful to let the topic die when a waitress finally cropped up out of nowhere, taking the full brunt of Matty’s attention.

—

Lounging out on the deck had quickly become one of my most favourite pastimes.

Being out there was so peaceful, whether it was early morning or late evening. I was just enraptured by the landscape that surrounded us as well as the humid air.

It was a little while after lunch when I’d gotten a bit peckish and decided to make myself a bowl of ice-cream to bring outside with me.

I’d taken to lying out under the branches of a nearby peach tree, which liked to offer me shelter from the beaming sun. Sometimes I read, often times I just relaxed out there, listening to Matty move about the place, or play the old guitar we’d found upstairs. It was nice.

Today though, my plans had quickly been interrupted by an unprompted FaceTime call.

I grinned down at my screen as the call connected and caught sight of a familiar bearded man. “Ross!” I exclaimed happily, all too glad to see his face.

“Alright there, stranger?” Came Ross’s chuckled greeting and we seemed to just smile at one another for a long second. “Fucking hell you’ve really caught the sun!”

“Jealous much?”

“Of you being out there whilst I’m sat in this sweaty studio? Yes.” Ross replied with a gruff huff, “Still fuming you and twat-face jetted off before I could invite myself along.”

I giggled and flipped my camera around so that he could see what I was seeing. “Be home soon, only I’ll be forced to miss all this.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off. You know what you’re doing.” Ross drawled out unhappily, and when I returned to the screen I found him covering his eyes with a grumpy sort of frown.

“Ah Ross, I’m only messing! Wish you were here too. It’s proper gorgeous.”

“So you and Matty keep telling me.” He humphed, “What are you up to now anyway?”

“Currently just sat eating some ice-cream. Think Matt said he was headed for a shower.”

Ross hummed and I peered down at the phone with squinted eyes to see past the glare of the sun. I grinned when he mimicked me, getting up close and personal with the lens.

“You look good.” He told me when we finally pulled away, chuckling amongst ourselves.

“Yeah?” I answered, almost as way for something to say.

“Yeah, you always do. But you look happier is what I actually mean.”

I bit at my bottom lip and fiddled with the silver spoon I’d stolen from inside. “Feel it.” I said to him quietly, poking now at the melting ice-cream. “It’s different out here. No reminders of back home. Well, I say that then I’ll see Matty pop up.”

Ross snorted softly at that but nodded like he understood, which was something I typically loved about him.

“It suits you. The sun, the smiling.”

I couldn’t help my smile then and turned away to hide it.

“Leave off.” I muttered, gifting him a gentle laugh, one he mimicked. “How are you anyway? How’s the album going?”

“Oh- you mean the album that Matty just upped and deserted us with, that one?”

I huffed out an amused breath and nodded, allowing him to continue on.

“It’s… going, I guess. Mainly just focusing on our own parts as of now.” Then he went on to tell me about this new riff he’d since created with Adam, getting a little excited when he explained how it’d come about during a session together, and where they wanted to use it.

It was sweet to see, and I found that I missed him a bit more than I’d first anticipated.

Matty came and disturbed us a short while later, recounting all the details of our getaway if only to piss Ross off and then embarrassed me when he recalled our earlier encounter with Alvaro the previous day.

I’d left him with the phone and two fingers tossed his way when I swanned back inside to escape the heat- both literally and metaphorically. Listening to the laughter that echoed behind me.

—

I don’t really remember how it went down. Just that I actually had gone down. And hard.

Reckon I had a few violent bruises to prove it too, but I was far too out of it to really focus on that though.

The beeping was back again. Like a dull ache that haunted me. And so were the light whispers and hazing lights. The hand I felt in mine.

There’d been no floating this time around though. No peace. Just that pitch black darkness that I could hardly even recall now.

I must’ve come in and out of it a couple of times because I can remember random bits and pieces. Mostly Matty, his voice and worried face. But there were nurses again too, talks of medication and doctors… another uncomfortable mattress and itchy sheets.

This time though I blinked past the blur and fought to stay awake.

And with a furrowed brow I came to and I glanced about an empty hospital room, similar to the one from before but different somehow too.

People buzzed outside the door that’d been left ajar, talking in English but, Spanish as well? I remembered then that we were in Tenerife. That I was meant to be living it up on holiday, not stuck in another hospital ward.

“Oh! You’re awake.”

I startled at the sudden sound and immediately regretted snapping my head in the voice’s direction. I winced at the fiery ache I felt lick its way up my neck. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” A young woman said, holding a clipboard close to her chest. “I’ll just call your friend in. ¿Sí?”

I simply watched her leave without a reply. And Matty came bounding in only seconds later, looking worse for wear.

“All I asked for was one holiday! One week where nothing happens, and then you go and pull this!” He ranted as soon as he caught sight of me, practically skidding his way over to my bedside.

He was still wearing the clothes I’d last seen him in, jean shorts and the pale pink tee I’d bought him, so I took that to be a good sign.

“I mean, fuck. You scared the absolute shit out of me!” He continued, rubbing harshly at his tired face. “One second you were fine and the next-” He shook his head, “I don’t think I ever moved so fucking fast in my life.”

“Why?” I croaked out with a tiny smile, “Pull a muscle, grandad?”

Matty’s eyes sharpened when they turned to me, “Oh so you are well enough to have kept that shitty sense of humour.”

I wrinkled my nose, but allowed him to take my hand in his. He was putting on a bravado but seemed to have been really shaken by the whole thing.

“I’m sorry.” I murmured, coughing quietly to clear my throat and then forced myself to sit up a tad.

Those hard eyes narrowed and he shot me a well-deserving glare, “Don’t fucking apologise. Just don’t do it again, alright?”

I smiled and attempted to nod past the pounding in my head. “I’ll try. What even happened anyway?”

Matty sighed and kicked a wooden chair closer so that he could sit. I rolled my eyes, choosing to keep quiet about the fact that he could’ve just crawled in beside me.

“They said it must've been the heat at first.” And he fixed me with a challenging look, one that screamed 'I told you so', before he carried on, “But when I told ‘em about the crash and all that… they ran a couple more tests. Just to make sure.”

I hummed quietly, not commenting on his guilty glance. He had nothing to feel guilty for, he’d done what anyone would’ve.

“And then they were in and out of your room, said they didn’t sedate you or nothing but when you collapsed you hit your head pretty fucking hard, kept you knocked out for a while.”

“How long?” I frowned.

Matty huffed out a long breath as he thought it over.

“Near to an hour? You were awake a bit by the time I got you here, but then you passed out again.” He worked out, his fingers playing aimlessly with mine. “Was fucking shitting myself out in that waiting room and this nurse at the reception, barely spoke a word of English. So I spent the entire time wishing you were there to just talk to her and then cursing you out for pulling a stunt like this, again.”

The small chuckle I gave him hurt and so I didn’t apologise another time. Though I did feel guilty for the scare.

“Been out there waiting on you for two and half hours as well, and let me tell you now that their coffee is shite.” He grimaced, seemingly alright with taking lead of the conversation between us. “Tasted like watered down piss, I swear. And I hear I thought that the Spanish loved coffee!”

“Reckon you're thinking of Brazil.” I muttered to him, “Spain’s got Sangria, innit.”

“Ah, yeah probably.” Matty hummed, quiet then to allow the noisy flurry of the hospital outside to trail in.

“So when can I go?” I asked him and he looked over at me, those bags beneath his eyes were back but softened somehow by the glow the sun had gifted him.

“Not sure.” He shrugged, glancing over towards the door. “Could ask. They said they were just waiting on a couple more tests.”

“It’s alright, I can wait.”

Immediately Matty shook his head and went to stand, “No, I’ll go check. Shouldn’t be much longer, hey?”

He gave my hand a squeeze before he left, looking back at me from the doorway before he had the strength to round it. I let go of the sigh I’d been holding in. 

Just my luck, I supposed. To be in sunny Spain and end up in hospital once again. I figured now that I’d been in more of them over the last few months than I had my entire life. And that was including the time I'd spent in one before my dad passed.

Toying with the bedding, I tried to recall what little I could of the day before I’d gone and collapsed.

We’d been on the phone to Ross, but then Matty had gotten bored and pestered me into tagging along with him to the beach. I remember the lemon icepop he bought me and the cone he'd gone and dropped into the sand when a bird had swooped too close.

We’d sat outside a cute little cafe for an early dinner, he’d finally caved and let himself have a glass of cava to pair with his paella, and I’d gotten the fish? No, the pisto. Matty had snorted at the name.

It had only been a short walk back to the villa after that and in return for having joined him, I made Matty piggyback me most of the way. He hadn’t stumbled as much as I thought he would, and when he had he blamed it one the wine. ‘Two glasses!’ I’d laughed at him in return.

When we’d gotten back I’d jumped in a quick shower whilst he hooked his laptop up to the flatscreen downstairs, claiming he wanted to rewatch a film. We fought over which one, but ultimately settled on Mamma Mia!, the first one of course. 

It had happened just as we’d been getting ready to head up to bed. The long day had worn me out and I remembered feeling a tad bit dizzy when we’d been sprawled out on the couch, drifting slightly as ‘I Have a Dream’ played through the speakers. I can vaguely recall Matty nudging me with his foot, laughing tiredly as I swatted him away.

He’d gotten up first, wandered into the kitchen to grab some water before we headed up. I’d only just gotten to my feet when he’d returned and then nothing. I couldn’t tell you what’d happened.

But I must’ve fainted or something, just like Matty’d said. Because my skull now pounded, my body ached, and I was stuck in this shitty hospital room.

A light scuttle caught my attention in that next moment, it drew me from my thoughts altogether and I looked up, expecting to see Matty walk in.

But it wasn't, and so you can imagine my surprise when the last person I ever thought I'd see was stood there instead.

“Alright, Birdie?”

Part Twenty-one>

#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel fic #george 1975 #george daniel x reader #matty #matty healy #george daniel x you #1975 #best friend matty #the 1975 band #fic #adam hann #ross macdonald #carly holt #1975 band #matty 1975 #series #work #exes to lovers #y/n #reader #multi part fic #x you #x reader #angst #fluff #humour #drama

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

My Tweed Coat Ricochets (Agatha Harkness x Reader) Chapter 2

Summary: After a disastrous first encounter with your new colleague, you try to settle into your new job as an archaeologist at The Westview Institution.

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: Hi besties, here’s chapter two! We’re going for a sort of Indiana Jones and eventually Mamma Mia-ish romcom vibe. Disclaimer- I am not a historian or archaeologist. I’m a violinist. I’m just typing this up as I go along, haha. But I hope you enjoy this next chapter! I should hopefully be updating weekly, I have a pretty busy job so if there’s ever a delay that’s why :) Thank you for reading!

Chapter Two: The Last Great Archaeology Dig

There was nothing more peaceful than aimlessly wandering through a museum. With the abundance of exhibits and the stream of visitors flowing in and out, it felt as if the ancient worlds were coming to life before your very eyes. Growing up you had always looked forward to the occasional school trip to the museum, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d end up working for one of the best institutions in the world. You’d spent most of your morning getting settled in your office, making note of how you wanted to fill the space over the coming weeks.

There was an underlying sense of dread thinking about the staff meeting Stephen had scheduled. It wasn’t because you weren’t looking forward to meeting your new colleagues- you were. A crumpled white blazer you angrily tossed on the ground caught your eye, reminding you of the real reason you didn’t want to go. The mere thought of Agatha Harkness had you seeing red- and it wasn’t just the wine stain. You had encountered plenty of strong personalities over the course of your career, but none had infuriated you as much as this woman managed to within a day. You normally prided yourself on your calm disposition, but there was something about her that had you feeling emotions you never thought were possible.

You weren’t sure what it was about her, as your brain replayed your two brief, but memorable interactions. Perhaps it was her arrogance, with the way she wasted no time snobbishly judging you based on your appearance. Or maybe it had something to do with the conceited idea that you were following her, as if you would ever do something like that. The way her eyes had narrowed at you, the striking blue color seemingly darkened like an impending storm rolling into the wine dark sea. You could get lost in those eyes, and- wait a second. What were you even saying?

Pushing any and all thoughts of Agatha out of your brain, a quick glance at your watch left you alarmed to find the staff meeting was starting in a few minutes and you had no idea where it was. Stephen had sent a rather lengthy email you only half read, and you mentally slapped yourself for not paying more attention. The corridors all appeared to blend together in a rather confusing labyrinth, and you rounded yet another corner when you heard a light hearted chuckle from behind you.

Turning around, you found a woman staring at you, amusement twinkling in her blue eyes. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she looked at you with some sympathy. “You must be the new hire?” As you nodded she continued. “I thought so. Y/N, right? I remember Stephen mentioning you were joining us. I’m Maria Hill, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

She held her hand out, and you quickly shook it, pleasantly surprised at how friendly she was. Although, you guessed most people here were nicer than Agatha. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sorry, I don’t really know where I’m going.”

Maria gave you a sympathetic glance. “I remember my first few weeks here. It gets better, trust me.” She guided you down another hallway before adding, “How has your first day been?”

Shrugging, you thought of the whole amount of nothing you had accomplished so far. “I’m still getting settled in. To be honest, I can’t believe I’m here.”

Nodding along, Maria led you down another long hallway, and you wondered just how large this place was. “It can be a lot to take in at once, but most of the team is great. You’ll fit right in.”

You wanted to inquire what she meant by saying most of the team was great, but you’d reached the end of the long corridor which held an open doorway holding a spacious conference room. Maria entered first, leaving you to follow suit, trying to swallow the nerves building up in your throat. The room housed a large rectangular table in the center, and there were already a few people there. Each of the walls housed a variety of pictures; upon closer examination you realized they must be a collection of various excavations the team had done over the years.

Turning back to the table, your eyes scanned the room and you let out an internal sigh of relief upon seeing that Agatha had not arrived yet. Besides Maria and Stephen, with the latter setting up at the head of the table, there were three other chairs occupied. A brooding man with long black hair sat alone in the corner. He was scribbling in a brown leather journal, and gave you a brief, disinterested look when he caught you staring. The other two, a man and a woman, were sitting across from Maria and engaged in quiet conversation. The woman had long auburn hair that was braided, whilst the man wore a pair of silver glasses and had strawberry blonde hair.

Glancing around at the empty chairs, you were mentally choosing a seat when Maria waved you over to join her. Taking the seat to her right, you set your belongings down before saying, “Thanks, I wasn’t sure where to sit.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Maria reassured you. “Have you met Wanda Maximoff and Victor Shade?”

The two people sitting across from you ended their conversation, giving you their full attention. The woman, Wanda, gave you a warm smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Y/N, right?”

You nodded, pleased at how they also appeared to be friendly. “Yes, it’s lovely to meet you both.”

“Well you certainly don’t look like a clumsy baboon,” Victor commented lightly, and your eyes narrowed in confusion, while Wanda whacked his arm. Clearing his throat, he held out his hand to shake yours. “Ah, right, my apologies. Haven’t had my afternoon coffee. It’s nice to meet you.”

Maria appeared to be just as confused as you, but before you could ask for clarification Wanda and Victor returned to their previous conversation. A few moments later, Agatha came trudging in, looking as unpleasant as ever, followed closely by another woman you didn’t recognize. The woman had straight jet black hair, and bright green eyes that shone like emeralds. They sat towards the end of the table, near the man with the long black hair, and you swore you could feel Agatha glaring daggers into your back. Stephen appeared pleased with the turnout as he stood up, clapping his hands together once.

“Thank you all for joining us this afternoon. I’ll try to keep things brief. First, I’d like to welcome the newest member of our team.” Stephen motioned at you, and you offered a strained smile, feeling the muscles in your lower back tighten from the anxiety. “Y/N will be an excellent addition, and I hope all of you make her feel welcome.” It appeared that his last words were directed towards one person in particular, as it appeared everyone in the room seemingly glanced at a bored looking Agatha.

Clearing his throat, Stephen continued. “Onto the last bit of business, everyone but Y/N should be familiar with our new project, being fielded by Dr. Shade and Dr. Stark, yes?” Mostly everyone, excluding Agatha, nodded. “Victor, would you like to give an update?”

“Of course,” Victor opened a large binder that was in front of him. “Tony has been overseas for the past few weeks getting the rest of our findings in order. As many of you know, my research over the past decade has been solely dedicated to locating the Tesseract.”

You were fairly familiar with Victor Shade, but had never read any of his journal articles over the years. You had, however, read more on Tony Stark. His research and findings on ancient civilizations along the Nile were groundbreaking. Victor had taken a brief moment to look over his notes before continuing. “The Tesseract was rumored to have been a sought after relic. The carvings we found appear to depict it having some sort of legendary power. Unfortunately, there is no last known location, and up until last month it was thought to be a myth.”

“In the past we always assumed the Tesseract was the only relic of its kind, but during our latest excavation we uncovered what appears to be a writing tablet with six engravings etched on it.”

Pulling an iPad out of his bag, he fidgeted with it for a moment before the flat screen tv on the far wall turned on, and pulled up a picture of the carving. Everyone peered at the screen with intrigue, even Agatha appeared to be paying attention. “Now, with all of the findings and research Tony and I have conducted since we uncovered this, we’ve stumbled across a few other clues to their locations.”

The screen changed to a 3D model of the Earth, with six glowing circles around it. “With everything we’ve put together, as well as notes from previous journals, we’ve concluded that the six relics are located within the red circles. I was made aware that Agatha is going to be leading a team in Delos next month, and since we are fairly certain that is the location of one of the relics, we thought it would be imperative to begin there.”

“You are not allowed to hijack my excavation, you high tech toaster,” Agatha snarled from her seat, and as you rolled your eyes, you swore you heard Wanda sigh from her seat. Of course.

“Agatha, no one is going to be hijacking your research,” Stephen interjected, clearly trying to diffuse whatever was going to happen next. “But bringing a few extra sets of hands to widen the search is a good idea.”

“This could very well change the way we view almost every ancient civilization throughout all of history,” Victor added, seeming unphased by Agatha.

“Thank you, Victor. Now, I know some of our team is already in Greece preparing for Agatha excavation, however with the new timeline I thought sending a few more people would be beneficial,” Stephen explained. “In addition to Agatha and Victor, I’d like to send Y/N.”

Your eyes met Agatha’s simultaneously, and you both glared at each other. Great. Agatha shook her head. “I’d rather be working with someone I know, like Hela or Loki.”

The man with the long black hair, Loki, shook his head. “I’m going to be in South America until October. Unless you’d like to trade places?”

Stephen sighed, rubbing his temple. “Agatha, you cannot pick and choose which colleagues will be accompanying you to Greece. As long as there’s nothing else, why don’t we wrap things up for today. I’ll have more information regarding the excavation later in the week. Thank you everyone.”

Everyone took their time filing out, and you noticed Stephen and Agatha quietly arguing, mostly likely about you. Returning to your office, you packed up your belongings for the day until your gaze once again fell onto the Merlot stained blazer and you suddenly had an idea. Packing the blazer in your bag, you left and passed a vexed Agatha, and you pretended not to notice how nice she smelled.

Later that afternoon you found yourself in one of your favorite coffee shops in the city. Nestled one block away from your apartment, it was the perfect stop you needed on your way home from a slightly stressful first day. Ordering your usual, you sat at a table in the corner and thought about the excavation in Greece. You still had to look over Victor’s notes, but the dig and research sounded exciting. The only downside is that Agatha was leading the excavation and sounded less than pleased at the prospect of you joining her. Your brain also went back to what Victor had said before the meeting started, something about you being a clumsy baboon? You had a sinking suspicion that Agatha had been behind that.

“Iced chai with oat milk for Y/N?” The barista called out, and you walked up the counter to grab your beverage when you saw familiar blue eyes glaring at you.

“You have got to be kidding me,” You mumbled to yourself as Agatha came up to you.

“It really feels like you’re following me,” Agatha said in a cold tone, eyeing you suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

“I left work before you did,” You pointed out, not in the mood to argue with her. “And if you must know this is my favorite coffee shop in the city. I come here all the time.”

Agatha gave you an unreadable look before turning around and walking away. Nice to see she was warming up to you. Taking your drink back to your table, you watched the archaeologist settle in at a table near yours. The two of you ignored each other for the entirety of your visit, but once you finished your drink, you opened your bag and looked at Agatha’s blazer while a new plan brewed in your mind. Eventually she got up to get more coffee, and you discreetly dropped the blazer off on her chair with a note before leaving.

I’ll have to save up my money to buy that plane ticket to Greece

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #marvel au #agatha harkness fanfiction #wandavision au

[shoko-komi]

The Komi Report - Communications 444 & 445

This week in Komi Can't Communicate:

Tomohito Oda beats a dead horse...

...and the girls gamble.

Read It: Mangareader Mangakakalot Viz Media (North America Exclusive) Mangadex (English updates are dead, but there’s the backlog; and Spanish + Portuguese language updates)

As a Valentines Day gift, Oda has given me a headache.

I'll split this report into two parts

The Rumikai stuff

The Girl Talk Meeting

So skip to the second half if you're sick of reading my opinions on Rumikai. You won't hurt my feelings, because I understand alksdnlaknsdlak

So, after last weeks train-wreck I made two attempts at interpreting what was going on between Rumiko and Wakai; my first in the main Komi Report, and my second in an additional post that I made after I'd had time to reflect on the chapter and hear other people's thoughts. For brevity I'll assume you've read those.

Turns out I was sort of half right the first time, and half right the second. Rumiko was planning to turn him down...

...but was waiting until after the big soccer game. Then, when Wakai made his declaration, she said "uh-huh" because she was happy about it, and apparently couldn't resist.

What an absolute stinker.

Wakai's declaration was a poor thing to do for the following reasons:

It put immense pressure on Rumiko, who had explicitly told Wakai that she was feeling conflicted and needed time and space to think so she could give him a clear answer when she was ready

Wakai's choice of words was far too intense. "I play for you now" and "be mine forever" are insane things to say to a girl you barely know and with whom you aren't involved romantically

(A brief aside; mind that it's perfectly fine for characters in stories to do bad things and make bad choices. I lay out Wakais sins not to criticize him as a person, but to criticize the narrative choices Oda made in constructing and representing these events.)

However, as I initially thought, Oda does want the audience to view the declaration as straightforwardly romantic. Does he think this is what girls want?

Big declarations like this are common in romantic media - speeding to the airport to catch them before they board the plane, crashing through the window to stop the wedding, etc - and it can be very romantic, but only when the narrative is constructed properly. The characters involved need to actually like.... be in love. As well, there need to be outside factors that are preventing them from being together. That way, the declaration of love comes across as "we're in love and I won't let anything take you away from me" rather than what we have here, which is "I'm attempting to force you into a relationship by overwhelming you suddenly".

This plot-line is so severely undeveloped and mismanaged that Wakai just comes across as creepy and uncomfortably intense. Which could have been interesting if that had been the intention, but obviously it isn't. The fact that Rumiko is written to have enjoyed it and still might like Wakai makes me so frustrated I'll need to lie down after this. Oda also wrote the other girls to be all for it...

Sasaki and Kato would never endorse this.

I won't mince words; this whole thing reeks of misogyny. Reeks of it. I'm not joking nor am I being hyperbolic. There is the distinct odor of misogyny through this whole thing. Oda has a confusing track record when it comes to writing women; sometimes he's remarkable, other times he's about average for a shōnen mangaka (which is to say; bad). This is the worst he's ever done, in my opinion.

Not only that, but this apparently isn't even the climax of this story. Oda is still dragging his feet on the will-they-won't-they question. Rumiko is still conflicted. Pardon my language, but for fucks sake. Please let this end.......

If I had to guess, I'd say this dead horse will likely be beaten all the way to the end of the series. The love triangle spanned their entire second year (which was great because the love triangle ruled). To me, this plot appears to be the third year equivalent and will follow the same structure. Fucking huzzah.

Honestly, with any future Rumikai chapters I may just skip them. it depends on whether anything worth talking about happens, but I predict that any further developments will just be the same old thing. I'm thoroughly tired of them and I don't expect I'll have anything else to add. But we'll burn that bridge when we get to it.

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

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Let my blood pressure ease and fall aklsndlaknsdlaknsdlkansd

I've been really looking forward to the Girl Talk meeting about the TadaKomi kiss ever since that happened. It's unfortunate that a certain wet blanket was thrown over the whole thing, but I'm still determined to enjoy the fun bits of these chapters. So without further ado, let's let our hair down and have some fun:

asjdnalsdnlasndlansdlansdja

I would have bet my gummies on mint; if someone is anticipating their first kiss, it's likely they'll have a mint beforehand so their breath doesn't smell. My first kiss tasted like fried chicken and orange fanta, because that's what she and I had been eating beforehand.

alsdnlajsdnklajsdnajsdajkd wait a minute... when did Ase have her first kiss? That's new information!!!! How exciting!!!!

Girl I want to know the end of that sentence.

It says "the end" there, which is confusing. But it also says this is only the beginning of the investigation, so hopefully next week will continue it. We need to hear the story of Ase and Naruses first kiss. I like those two, so I'm keen for that.

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

Parting thoughts; there were bits to enjoy in these chapters, but they lie in the shadow of something truly dreadful. Hopefully we'll get more of the Girl Talk meeting next week, but there's also sure to be a chapter about Wakai's perspective on the soccer game event sooner or later. I'm feeling drained.....

My dear reader, I wish you a happy Valentines Day. I'm married to the Komi Report and cannot take on a lover, but it's still nice to celebrate love. Please enjoy some friend chocolate I made for you

Stay safe. I'll see you next week.

#komi #komi can't communicate #komi san wa komyushou desu #komi report #the komi report

[spotsandsocks]

Cover by the oh so talented and lovely @ronordmann thank you love, I adore it it’s perfect.

Read on AO3 9k E

Silence fills the room as soon as Eddie hangs up the phone. He’d known something was wrong the second he’d seen his Dad’s caller ID pop up at 2pm on a Wednesday afternoon. It had been a quick call, just long enough to update him on the situation, his Dad had been keen to get back to Abuela, Eddie doesn’t blame him, he wishes he could be there too. He hates that she’s moved away even though he knows it made sense. He just misses her so much, worries about her too, even more now. 

His phone is still in his hand so he doesn’t really think much about what he’s doing, just makes the call. It’s picked up in under three rings and Eddie breathes out a heavy greeting.

‘Hey. It’s me.” Although Buck knows that, caller ID and all.

He gets a “Hey,” right back and then after a brief pause Buck asks the question Eddie  knew he would.

“You ok?” There’s quite concern in his friend’s voice, he already knows something’s wrong. Eddie guesses there must have been something in his voice to give it away, even if he has only said three words. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, Buck’s good like that. He knows people, he sees things people don’t expect him to and he cares. Eddie knows he’s lucky to be one of the people Buck cares about.

“Not really,” Eddie sniffs and he can just imagine Buck stopping whatever he was doing and frowning in worry. It’s an expression he’s quite familiar with but he hasn’t seen too much of lately, not now things are getting a little better for him.

“My Dad called, it’s my Abuela.” He takes a deep slightly shuddering breath, “she’s in the hospital, they’re doing tests and things but no one's sure what’s wrong, Dad tried to play it down but I could tell he was worried.”

“And now you’re thinking about plane tickets right?” The understanding is instant, Eddie nods and confirms Bucks guess.

“Yeah, I can’t go, I know that and I’m glad he told me but..”

“You’re too far away and you feel useless.”

Again he nods, a small huff of air escapes too, Buck knows him well.

“I’m gonna call her later, Dad said she’s sleeping.” 

“She’ll like that, give her my love.” A heartbeat later Buck  says “You want me to come over?” 

He does but what he says is “No it’s ok, you’re busy. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Buck’s voice is soft, “Anytime Eds. I’m always here, you know that.”

They hang up not long afterwards, Eddie feeling slightly better having spoken to someone. No, having spoken to Buck, who’s right, he is always there for him. Every time. Eddie’s still not sure what he’s done to deserve it but he’s glad, so very glad he has Buck in his life.

Caller ID tells him it’s Buck’s calling and he doesn’t even wait for Eddie to say hi, just jumps in with,

“Eddie! You have to help! Maddie’s going to kill me.”

“What have you done now?” Eddie knows that tone, he waits to hear what minor crisis Buck finds himself in today.

“I’ve lost Jee’s favourite teddy. Maddie just called and Jee’s distraught.”

Eddie thinks Buck’s worked himself up into a similar state by the sound of him.

“Ok, calm down.” 

“I am calm.”

“You’re really not, ok, take a sec and...”

“I’ve looked everywhere, Jee will never forgive me, Maddie won’t either.”

“Buck you were here this morning, let me check, maybe it fell out somewhere.”

“Please find it Eddie, I’m a terrible Uncle.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as he pulls cushions around and looks under and behind couches and chairs.

“You’re a fantastic Uncle. Jee loves you. Maddie loves you too. A lost teddy isn’t going to change that .”

“I don’t know Eds. She really loves that bear.”

His hand closes around something fluffy under one of his chairs, he pulls it out and recognises the bear Jee had had earlier.

“Well it’s a good job I’ve found it then.”

“You have!? Oh thank god!” he can just imagine Buck's face, the way he’s throwing his head back, exposing his neck, mouth open as he sighs in relief. He gets lost in the image for a moment then shakes himself free.

“I’ll run it over to Maddie for you, I’m closer.”

“Thank you, thank you, you're the best man, I mean it.”

He laughs, he’s glad he could help wipe Buck’s distress away, a quick trip to Maddie and Chim’s is the very least he can do for Buck. 

Eddie knows he’d do almost anything for his friend, but all he says is “No problem, just glad I can help reunite a girl with her bear.” before he hangs up, bear in hand ready to save Buck’s neck from his niece’s tears and sister’s wrath

Read on AO3

#911 fic #911fic #Buddie #spotty scribbles #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic #evan buck buckley #eddie x Buck #buck x Eddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley

[neverendingsourceofmystery]

Sailing Close to the Wind|| One: Chasing Rainbows and Spinning Dreams

*takes a deep breath* *opens laptop* *blows ever so softly*

*coughs*

Hello everyone, I bet you didn't think I would ever come back to write more Downton stuff. Maybe an update from me isn't in your 2024 bingo card. Not gonna lie, I'm just as surprised as you are. I've been gone for far longer than I ever was here, but I guess, prodigal children always find their way home.

YES. This is an update. I know.

In light of the new movie announcement, I made a trip down memory lane, and was inspired by one of my old fics. Not that my writing from five years ago was ever inspiring, really. Anyway, it was supposed to be a one shot, and so I felt like I was in under no obligation to add more, but add more, I shall do.

*steadfastly ignores the 300 other cobert fanfics I am supposed to update*

To my surprise as well as yours, this one had an interesting and very polite demand for more, and honestly, if I wasn't so neck deep in law school, I would have given this a go earlier. Of course, I chose the most inopportune time -- when I'm in over my head, drowning, in bar review and prep -- to finish this piece. But whatever. It was therapeutic. I do suggest you read the prologue first, again -- here or here-- because I doubt any of you still remember this. This one's a long one that I just had to get out of my system, because studying about my country's system is the equivalent of pouring bleach all over my brain.

I would like to say as early as now however, that as I have already mentioned earlier, I am in the middle of bar prep, so the updates are probably going to be few and far in between, if at all, towards the middle of this year. Not that it's anything new where I'm concerned. But I shall endeavor to finish before the end of year or the end of the world, at least, whichever comes first.

.::.

One

Chasing rainbows and Spinning Dreams

"Can it possibly beThe future for me is you…Wait until I can tell you all my schemesChasing rainbows spinning dreamsTell me please your name”  - Tell me your name, Jose Mari Chan

The silence in the room was so loud that one could hear a pin drop – as the old adage went, anyway, – and for one brief second, Cora found herself questioning if her boss was all right in the head. Maybe she had lost her mind after all the stress and was now clinically insane. 

That, after all, was the only logical explanation to her even remotely suggesting this.

Cora looked away from her boss, wondering what she should do or say next, when her gaze met the eyes of the man on the other side of the room. Robert, that’s what Rosamund said, but Cora already knew that. There was nary a soul in this entire company who didn’t. He rarely made any appearance, but he’s never missed one company party and his name was always on everybody’s lips. 

Cora could still – though she would never say it out loud or admit it – remember the first time she had seen the esteemed Mr. Robert Crawley. It had been during her first company Christmas party. She was new, a new hire fresh from her internship, and she’d been so young and so infatuated by the piercing blue eyes that barely looked her way even once in the party. He’d been caught up, talking to the big wigs, to his sister, and their other colleagues and didn’t have time for the little Miss Americana that was Cora. Not that Cora had minded very much, she was content with sipping her wine and admiring Mr. Crawley from afar. 

He was handsome and his laugh was loud and boisterous, although hardly offensive. He spoke to Mr. Carson and his wife, Mrs. Elsie Hughes-Carson, who both worked with them at the company, like they were old friends – with respect and authority, but with clear affection. Cora could have only hoped, at that time, to be treated the same.

Now, here she was, sitting in the office of her boss, having been just told that she should marry the CEO of the company she’s working for so she can stay in London. She felt like she needed more ruminating about the “brilliant idea” of the boss in question, but she figured there wasn’t really even enough time to ruminate that. It was insane. That, in her mind, should count as a red flag right? That her boss was insane?

“Well?” Rosamund started to speak, though she looked just a little bit nervous, or anxious, or maybe it was self-realization – Cora could only hope for the last. “It’s such an unmusical way of putting things, brother.” She cleared her throat and nodded anyway. Clearly, any hopes of sanity were dashed at this point. “I was suggesting a convenient marriage with a deadline…if you’re amenable, of course.”

More here or here.

#guess who's back #yup me #no one cares i know but here we are #just writing robert and cora in five hundred different scenarios i guess #just another modern marriage of convenience #it's been ages i know #cobert #cora crawley #robert crawley #cora and robert crawley #downton abbey modern au #trutwritescobert #cobert fanfiction

[treehuggeranonymous]

Pokeshipping Week 2022 Day 7: Intimate/Close Together

Keeping Close When You’re Far Apart

Ash was kind of terrible when it came to writing letters.

He tried - he really did - but he’d never been that good with words and had basically dropped out of school when he was ten. 

(Brock was technically homeschooling them, but Brock had only got his school certificate last year so the legitimacy of his schooling could be called into question)

He mostly kept in contact via vidcalls, mostly with his Mom (who he called collect) and Professor Oak (who was part of some network that meant calls to him were free from any PokéCentre). And Misty, of course.

It wasn’t so bad when he was in Kanto, as calls from a PokéCentre to one of the gyms were free. And in Hoenn there’d been only a nominal charge so they could talk for ages and only get charged a few bucks for the call. He and Brock would do a marathon call with Misty once a month, updating her on where they were and all the new Pokémon they’d seen.

In Sinnoh, though - and every region since - the charges were ridiculous. It was cheaper for him to call Professor Oak and pay the express bus fare for Misty to visit Pallet than it would be to talk to her for less than an hour. And as Misty got busier with the gym and the time difference between regions changed it just became more and more difficult to catch-up over vidphone.

And so Ash had taken to communicating via letters. Terrible letters. Ones full of spelling mistakes and nonsensical nonsequitors and grammatical errors and run on sentences that never seemed to end. Letters that sometimes just read as bad directions between one town and the next with a brief interlude to describe some Pokémon that was of particular interest. In return Misty sent him paragraphs on her daily life, describing her gym battles in intricate detail so that he felt like he was there watching.

(Misty sometimes padded her letters to Ash with her battle reports if they seemed a bit dull or on the short side. That her letters were better - longer and more interesting - was a point of pride)

Despite these failings, Ash was not an early adopter when the PokéGear added a messaging function. Electronic messages were still basically letters, even if you didn’t have to write them by hand or put them in the post.

The latest update, though, had pictures. Pictures you could send as is, and little pictures that you could put in your messages instead of words.

It was great and he’d gotten in the habit of just photographing the things of interest that he would write about in his (terrible) letters and captioning them with the little pictures.

Only just when he thought he was getting the hang of this epistolary thing, he got a message from Misty desperately urging him to get Brock to teach him how to use emojis properly.

He frowned at his device, reluctantly typing a message in reply.

Aren’t you gonna guess?

Misty’s reply was instantaneous.

Ask Brock what it means and then I’ll guess

Sighing, Ash opened the previous message and passed it to Brock. “Can you guess what it is?” He asked his friend.

On screen was a dark shadow captioned with: ‘[Eggplant] [Tongue] [Water droplets]?’

Brock froze for a moment, looking between Ash and the screen and then deciding to give Ash the benefit of the doubt. “Why don’t you tell me what it is?” He suggested, keeping his voice steady despite the way his eyebrows had crept towards his hairline.

“It’s Haunter,” Ash explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. When he didn’t get an ‘of course’ from Brock, he explained the symbols. “The eggplant is cos he’s purple. The tongue was cos he licked Misty. And the water is like tears of laughter.”

“Right,” Brock said with a sigh of relief. “I can see why you thought that particular combination of emojis would convey Haunter,” he said slowly. “But what you’ve actually done is proposition Misty for sex.”

“WAH!” Ash exclaimed, taken aback. “You think - I didn’t,” he protested quickly. “We were just playing ‘Who’s that Pokémon’. I wasn’t propositioning anyone. I don’t even think of Misty - I”

His eyes widened with horror as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “How does Misty know that means, you know?” He asked in a secretive voice.

“She has older sisters,” Brock answered with a shrug. “Anyway,” he added, “if the water droplets is supposed to be tears of laughter, why didn’t you just use the laughing face?”

Like a switch, Ash’s embarrassment was forgotten and he narrowed his eyes at the middle distance. “Misty’s four points ahead,” he said with a glare. “I didn’t want her to guess it too easily.”

Accepting that is reasonable Ash logic, Brock offered to make a list of emojis to avoid in future messages, which Ash readily accepted.

Winking, Brock added, “And then next time you send Misty that emoji combination you’ll actually mean it.”

#pokeshipping week 2022 #day 7 #close together #I got where the prompt takes me #emoji speak #pokeshipping #shippy if you squint #fic #writing #ash x misty

[valleyrunearchives]

Binary

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Pairings: Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Chapter 17/?

“Binary code is a series of zeroes and ones strung together in a specific sequence. On paper, it’s useless. Annoying. Worthless. But put that same string of zeroes and ones into a computer, and suddenly it’s a language far more complex than the human mind can comprehend. I was the same way. The world decided I wasn’t good enough in the physical plane, so I went digital. That’s why I chose the name Binary. And you should be very,” He smirks at the underground hero on the screen, “Very afraid of the reach I have here. Aizawa Shouta.”

Or

Midoriya Izuku is tired of the world treating him like nothing. So he decides to becoming a hacker to show the world that nothing can be anything.

Featuring Midoriya Izuku as the Genius Hacker Aizawa Shouta as the problem child wrangler Yamada Hizashi as the moral support to his husband Tsukauchi Naomasa as the man who needs a long vacation PLEASE Shinsou Hitoshi as the intentionally adopted one Toga Himiko as the unintentionally adopted one Dabi as the really didn’t want to be adopted one but he guesses this is his life now and Nedzu as the Rat God of UA

Previous | First | Next

Click here to Read on AO3!

Shouta hears the murmurs around him of his fellow teachers. Now that he’s thinking about it, they’ve been mumbling amongst themselves for the last while. Shouta just hadn’t fully noticed beyond an initial thought of it since he’s busy working on both his cases as well as starting to get things ready for the next school year. Sure it’s still several months away but it never hurts to prepare early. He’d mostly been wondering how many of his new students that he’ll have to expel this year. He’s guesstimating at least four, if not six. Regardless, now he can’t focus on anything else because of all the low chattering around him. He gives a brief glance around the room before his eyes settle on Hizashi. His husband catches his eye and shrugs, not knowing what was going on.

“Alright,” he says tiredly, “Spit it out. What is so important that you guys won’t shut up for five minutes? Some of us have things to do, you know.”

“Well, it’s just…” Nemuri starts, uncharacteristically hesitant, “Nedzu normally gives the updates and any new expectations for next year’s classes by now but he hasn’t said anything. Not to mention, he said months ago that we’d be getting a new staff member for the coming year but he hasn’t said anything else about who it is.” 

“It’s like he’s… behind. And we know he only gets that way when he’s distracted,” Kan picks up, “You’re kind of the closest teacher to him, for whatever odd reason. Do you know what he’s working on so intensely?”

Shouta’s brows furrow. That is odd. “Has anyone heard him mention anything? Even just an off-handed comment about anything?” he asks them.

“I heard him say something about more cameras in the testing zones while I was dropping off some paperwork,” Thirteen says.

More cameras? Why would he need more-? It clicks for him just as it clicks for Hizashi too. “Binary,” They both say at the same time. 

“Binary?” The rest of the teachers ask, confused.

“There’s a new hacker on scene. Their hacking name is Binary,” Shouta reaches out and takes a sip of his coffee. He grimaces a bit. It’s cold. He’ll need to get a refresh in a minute.

“Oh! The hacker! I’ve talked to them! Or… they’ve talked to me, rather,” Nemuri says.

… What? He turns sharp eyes over to her. Hizashi beats him to it when he blurts out, “When?!”   

“Uh… about a week ago I guess? They helped me out with a case! They’re amazing at what they do!” Everyone turns wide-eyed to her as she shrugs, “What?”

“Why didn’t you think to tell anyone about this?!” Hizashi yells with flailing arms.

“Volume, Yamada,” He warns him before addressing Nemuri, “Why didn’t you though?”

“I don’t know. I kind of felt like if I told someone they would try and stop them. And they’re really good. They’re really trying their best to help people!” 

Shouta resists the urge to facepalm at that. Snipe slowly raises his hand behind Nemuri, “I have also had contact with Binary.” 

“What…” Hizashi blinks at him in astonishment now. 

The gunslinger hero shrugs, “My reasoning is kind of the same. They helped, they didn’t do anything to impede me, I didn’t see a point in sayin’ anything if ya’ll were just gonna try and stop them.”

“Well that ship has long sailed…” Hizashi says.

“What?” They both ask him.

Shouta sighs. Couldn’t Hizashi have had just a bit more tact about this? He does still explain to them, “I’ve been investigating Binary at the request of Tsukauchi for months now. I’m still no closer to figuring out their identity. Yamada and I both have had interactions with Binary where they worked with us as something of a dispatcher. I can admit, they’re good at it too.” 

“Okay, so what does this have to do with Nedzu, anyway?” Nemuri asks with eyes squinted in suspicion. 

“Binary somehow managed to hack into our networks and get the specifics of UA’s entrance exam.”

All the voices of the teachers ring out in complete shock. He knows what they’re thinking. It was unheard of. Some of the top hackers in and out of the country haven’t even come close to figuring out the UA entrance exam specifics. They never get past the initial security Nedzu has in place. How could this newbie get past it all in one try? Shouta stands up and moves to the coffee pot to finally refresh his coffee as he continues, “Nedzu, in typical Nedzu fashion, is hyperfixated on it. He’s absolutely certain that either someone who knows Binary or Binary themself will be a part of the entrance exam this year. Why else would they need to hack the specifics?” 

“That’s why he needs more cameras in the testing areas,” Thirteen points out, “He’s hoping to catch whoever it is.” 

“Precisely,” Shouta agrees, then takes a sip of the now hot and fresh coffee. Oh, that’s nice.

“Why didn’t you tell us about Binary, Shouta?” Nemuri asks him.

He sets his coffee down at his desk as he retakes his seat, “Tsukauchi and I were hoping to keep Binary on the DL. Based on what we’ve figured out about them, we have suspicions that they’re possibly traumatized due to past bullying and mistreatment by those around them. This was taken by the fact that they indirectly told me the worthlessness of their quirk.”

Hizashi clears his throat with a pointed look. He rolls his eyes but dutifully adds, “Or lack of one. Since he seemed to keep contact with only me, Tsukauchi, and Yamada - and even then only because Binary hacked deep enough to find the connection between the two of us - we hoped we could find them and convince them to peacefully give up hacking. That we could possibly reduce any kind of charges against them if so.”

“Are there charges against them?” Nemuri asks suspiciously.

“So far, no. None that we can really pin and keep since all they seem to be doing is acting as a concerned citizen by reporting high risk crimes to the proper authorities. But some people will be rallying for them if we do catch them. Especially now that we know that he’s contacting heroes outside of the three of us.” 

“We won’t tell, Shouta, you know we won’t,” Nemuri reassures him with pleading eyes. He knows what she wants but he can’t guarantee that he’ll be able to give it to her. He shakes his head negatively, “That’s not the issue. I know you and snipe won’t say anything. But not every hero is going to have nice things to say about Binary or be willing to keep their hacking a secret.” 

“So what do we do?” Snipe asks him.

“For now, nothing. Let me or Yamada know immediately if any others of you have contact with them. Also, try and keep a closer eye on the testing areas as well. Maybe we can beat Nedzu to Binary or their associate if we all work together to try and spot them. I’m going to contact Tsukauchi at the end of the school day today to let him know what’s going on and that you’re now all a part of the Binary case, if for no other reason than to try and keep them out of Nedzu’s claws.”

All the other teachers agreed with him immediately. Shouta sighs and picks up his coffee mug again. This is going to be a long day. And an even longer conversation with Tsukauchi.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #hacker!izuku midoriya #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #kayama nemuri #vlad king #thirteen mha #snipe mha

[multi-lefaiye]

13, 14, 15, 29, and 37!

hello!!!

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

I don't remember where I saw this, but I think the best writing advice I've come across is that, generally speaking, there is no such thing as a bad concept. Pretty much any idea can work with the right approach! Sometimes it takes a while to find that approach, and it might be hard to make that concept work, but there's pretty much always a way.

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

That tumblr post out there that was like. This person listing a bunch of examples of figurative/descriptive language (such as describing a character as choking out words or hissing as they speak) and complaining about how it's not realistic. Like sure everyone has their own personal taste but you will take my descriptive language from my cold dead hands.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

This is a lot of power you're giving me right now. Anyway UHH out of the fanfiction I've written, if I could somehow make a film version of my Unwind fic Twelve Years that'd be pretty cool. Even if it's not done and it's been a hot fucking minute since I updated it, I think it's a fun look into a fucked up universe and an exploration of like... a character who's extremely far removed from the main characters of the series and is just trying to survive the best they can.

Out of my original WIPs, if any of them were filmed I'd be pretty excited I think, but if The Ruins of Memory was filmed that’d be fun, but it’d have to have SO many effects....

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

OKAY HOLY FUCK. There's a few but I'll share the one I'm thinking about the most rn.

So there's this Saw fic I read recently that will not leave my fucking head. I have reread it several times and it's already a comfort story for me. It's called Must Be A Devil Between Us by Vulcanodon (not gonna link it directly here b/c there is explicit content in the third chapter) and it's like. My favorite fic I've seen so far with the premise of Adam surviving and reconnecting with Lawrence, not knowing that Lawrence is now an apprentice for Jigsaw.

What I like about Must Be A Devil Between Us is that, imo, it uses dramatic irony very well, and even though it's focused on Adam and his perspective, it still portrays Lawrence and his psychology in a really interesting way!! I'd fucking love a continuation into this particular fic's version of the series, though I definitely respect that the author isn't planning to at this time.

Also I love that fic because there's like... a very fun bit of ironic comedy in the fact that Adam COMPLETELY misinterprets Lawrence trying to confess the whole "I'm working for a serial killer now" thing. Lawrence says that there's a secret he had to keep from his wife that ultimately ended their relationship, and he feels that Adam is someone he can be honest with and be himself. And Adam's like, "Oh he's gay? Neat. Guess I'm not as subtle as I thought about my own orientation if he only feels comfortable telling ME about it." It makes me laugh <3

Either that or a continuation of that one fic where Adam ends up in a time loop, that would also be really fucking good.

37. Talk about your current wips.

Ok we're gonna be here all day if I list every WIP, both original and not, so I'll try to keep this brief <3 I'll share one thing about each WIP.

The Ruins of Memory - This may be on hold until further notice, but don't worry, I think about my sad post-apocalyptic furries all the fucking time.

A Modern Ghost Story - Well this started as my attempt to make a fun story about ghost-hunters (in the style of Buzzfeed Unsolved) stumbling across a real haunting, but the lore's out of hand so I'm not sure where it's going now.

God Died With Wooden Bones - This story's plot is still very vague in my head but I do at least know the backstory. I have that going for me. Anyway this, if you can believe it, is chock full of bones and skeletal imagery!

CUDAAS - I really need to get a proper title for this before it's too fucking late- Anyway Alekto, one of the first book's protags, was originally meant to be a very minor character until I thought about the three personality traits I gave them and went "oh there's something here."

Bleeding Over Eden - This story is really metaphorical and I'm realizing more and more that the whole thing can be read as an allegory for coming to terms with the worst parts of yourself and moving past grief. I have a theme, evidently.

For We Are Both Fragile Things - The prequel to Bleeding Over Eden, Fragile Things is all about some really REALLY sad gay people who slowly get angry and bitter due to factors that are mostly behind their control.

Magic Apocalyptica - Wuh-oh, how did the planet get all these fucking holes in it!! This isn't one single WIP and more just a setting I've been developing but it's there.

And the unnamed WIP I'm currently referring to in my head as Sad People WIP: I'm gonna be honest that this has very little so far aside from Themes and Base Concepts but I still am thinking about it and microwaving it in my brain.

I feel like I'm forgetting things. But this is very long so I'm gonna call it for now <3

#long post #talk to the bunnykitty #bat time all the time #ask game #thank u for the ask!!! #how much saw fanfic have i read in the past two-three weeks? ahah. well. #[i run away without answering the question]

[sailsinstorms]

Legacy of the Girls - Part 10

Let's continue reading, shall we?

So last update it was WinterFest. The girls had a good time and it was a surprisingly PG holiday, which was great. I've been tweaking the Mods around a bit and the unnecessary amounts of sex have decreased, weird preferences have been fixed etc.

This is why I'm playing The Girls first before starting an actual legacy. This way, I can adjust everything to the way I like things. Like I said, I've only just started playing Sims 4 so everything is new.

Please remember that as you scroll through this update, haha!!

So to start things off, Hawea has decided he wants Molly to be his girlfriend. That's such exciting news! Congratulations Molly! Good luck Hawea...

All right, yep... celebrate all you want...

Ugh, now it's freaking Tina Peeping that's been coming around harassing the girls through the windows. I gotta do something about this. I gotta send a message - beating people up just isn't working anymore.

So I was clicking around and in one particular Mod there was an option to beat someone's head into the ground. Sure! That should sent a message, right?!

WRONG! Molly killed her.

*blank stare*

I accidentally made Molly kill someone...

Molly: No really, it's fine. I'm just gonna go back to my boyfriend now. Next time don't interrupt me.

MOLLY. Molly I didn't mean for that to happen. I thought you were just gonna rough them up a little. That kid is dead!

Molly: So I was thinking of ordering UberEats. How does cheesy toasted sandwiches sound?

Oh my God the Reaper is here. (TT_TT) Molly doesn't even care. What have I done?

The Reaper has a tablet. They keep track of their deaths using modern technology <3 I love it! I'm both happy and sad at the same time. What are these emotions?!

Oops. I should really start paying more attention to what's going on around me. This is a classic case of not realizing the consequences - or thinking I can get away with something. Is that it? Maybe there's another lesson to be learned here...

I'll figure it out.

Reaper: Hey, so ya girl Molly just beat a kid to death outside. I'm gonna need you to go into a blind panic for the next few hours. Also, please sign here *holds out tablet* Do you want the receipt for this sent to your email or..?

Reaper: Knight to D6. Peace out squad. *shimmers away*

And Molly gets rewarded with a promotion.

The world works in mysterious ways I guess.

Radley can you be careful please? Please don't set yourself on fire. I'm like really nervous now. I feel like I'm gonna be the one to get the bad karma and something is going to happen to one of you.

These two are just a never ending love rocket at the moment.

Winter and Marcel have also been hitting it off really well. Here they are having their first kiss. Winter is actually supposed to be wearing clothes right now but for some reason the lag on her getting changed was super slow.

I'm sure all the other Sim God's out there understand..

He's so lovely. He actually goes around and fixes anything that is broken in the house. What a good guy. He's also married but that hasn't stopped any of us so far, so... not for long my guy. Not for long.

Loren: Please get OFF the table! I just want to eat my food, Mya! Seriously! Mya: *genuinely confused*

I had Solar make a bunch of food because I decided I wanted them to have a New Years Party. Halfway through her huge cook-up it looks like she got sick? She started getting all dazed and spinny.

Please be okay, baby <3

The regulars were invited. Makoa and Don, the household's favorite boys - as well as Mortimer Goth, Darumk and his wife, and Hiroki, Marcel and Hawea. There was also some chick from Loren's work. I think they were in a commercial together.

Everyone had a good time <3

Winter did have a brief fight with Darumk about something. From the looks of things it was him getting angry at her, because maybe she wanted to see him without his briefs on? I'm not sure. I'm just speculating.

But immediately afterwards they were sipping wine and laughing about the good old days.

Loren and Hiroki were all over each other. Loren convinced him to leave his wife, which he was more than happy to do by the way. So he's officially a man with no strings attached, dating a young adult romance sim who currently wants to have 3 serious relationships going at the same time.

I feel like he's gonna be going through some stuff, but we'll see!

Solar and Vanessa were the last ones standing for New Years. Which was surprising since Solar was soooo dizzy all night.

Molly: Hey Winter, you left the stove on.

Previous | Archive | Next

#thesims4 #thesims #sims legacy #simblr #ts4

[lilacmoon83]

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 68: Carry On, Pt. 1

Later that night, after he kissed his sleeping wife and daughter, who were cuddled together in their bed, David went into the office in search of the journal that TJ had sent over. He found it on his desk and sat down. He put his reading glasses on and flipped through the tattered, fragile document. And what he saw amazed him, as it glowed and lit up the entire office. It was a depiction of a man carrying a young girl in his arms. It was him…and Olive. He was stunned and quickly closed the book, before carefully putting it in his satchel. He stood up and made his way out, with the intention of taking the book home to study.

After, he arrived home and undressed to some sleep clothes, before climbing into bed, with his wife and daughter, who was being held by his wife. He fell asleep, but it was not without dreams. A few hours in, he found himself in a nightmare or rather a Calling.

He was back in the smoky nightclub and he looked around, as he heard a voice. A voice that he recognized as TJ.

"TJ…" he uttered, but he couldn't find him.

~*~

The next morning

Emma arrived at the nightclub scene to check on the progress of the recovery mission and clean up.

"Detective Nolan…we have another body," one of the uniformed officers called. She came over and prepared herself for what would be a gruesome sight, as the body bag was opened.

"Male…pretty tall," he said and her heart sank, as she saw a bracelet in the man's hand that Olive had described to her. They wouldn't know for sure until they used the dental records to get a definite identity, but it wasn't looking good. With that, she made the drive to the station for an update briefing from Captain Humbert, who was getting ready to give the update as she walked into the squad room.

"Six lives total so far," Graham said.

"We're working closely with FDNY to gather more information. And, yes, we are very much treating this fire as a crime," he added.

"Is it true that the passengers of Flight 828 were the intended targets?" Ruby asked.

"That's our best guess so far. Although a number of the fatalities and injuries have been non-passengers," Graham answered.

"So, who torched the place?" another officer asked.

"Detective Nolan's firsthand account indicates this might have been arson committed by a disgruntled member of the Church of the Believers. Isaiah McCann," Graham replied.

"This has those Xer sons of bitches written all over it. Maybe these two are working with them," Ruby whispered to Killian.

"I don't think so," Killian replied, though clearly troubled.

"You seem awfully certain. The investigation is ongoing. You know something we don't?" Ruby asked.

"I guess we'll find out," he answered.

The news played in the Nolan house that morning, as they followed the investigation closely, though Olive was clearly upset and frustrated by the whole thing and the reporter.

"Suspected arson is at play. As you can see behind me, the community has rallied together, bringing flowers, cards, candles…" the reporter droned on, as the doorbell rang and Margaret answered.

"George…it's sweet of you to come by," she said, as she invited him in. The older man smiled.

"It's the least I could do," he replied, as her phone rang and she silenced it.

"Sorry…the phone calls have been nonstop," she said.

"That's quite all right…it's a lot for one family to go through," he replied," as David greeted him with a handshake.

"Yeah…we took Henry to my dad's. It's just too much for him," David said.

"And as for Olive, well, it's…" David said, trailing off. George put a hand on his arm.

"I know TJ was a friend to all of you. Everyone on campus is terribly upset," George said.

"Upset?! That is such bull!" Olive exclaimed.

"Olive!" David scolded.

"It's okay," George said.

"Everyone at that campus thought TJ was a freak. Nobody accepted him. Nobody even knew anything about him. And now they're all sad that he's gone," Olive replied.

"I'm sorry. Excuse me," David said, as he intended to calm her down.

"I-I-I'll just get out of your hair. Just gonna use the bathroom," George said.

"Sure, it's through the door on the right," David said. George slipped into the hallway, but instead of finding the bathroom, he snooped through a few rooms until he found his way to the garage. He observed David's research boards with a bit of awe and snapped a few photos, before making his way back out.

"Olive…I don't think we need to be watching this anymore," David said, as she listened to the report.

"A woman from the Bronx has found her sister...last seen at the nightclub, being treated at Ed Koch Hospital," the reporter said.

"It's just search-and-rescue still going on. That woman just found her sister. I mean, TJ could have made it out alive, too," she said with hope, as George returned. He sighed and kissed her head. He hoped she was right, but at this point, he knew the chances were slim.

"Thanks again for dropping by," he said, as he shook his boss's hand, just as Emma came home.

"George…this is my sister Emma. This is the supervisor of my department, George Spencer," he said.

"Nice to meet you," Emma said.

"Likewise. Please call me if any of you need anything," he replied, as he made his way out.

"I appreciate that, thanks," David said.

"Um, can I talk to you in the other room?" Emma asked, but Olive saw her and hurried over, just as they were about to go talk outside.

"Wait," Olive pleaded, as David closed the door.

"Did you... find TJ?" Olive asked desperately.

"Uh, Olive, let me talk to Aunt Emma," David replied.

"No. I have the right to know. Please. Tell me," she pleaded. Emma looked at her brother and he nodded.

"Olive, um…" she started to say and the teen could tell it was bad news.

"No," she said, as she started to cry.

"No…" she sobbed, as David and Margaret surrounded her with hugs.

"I'm sorry," she said, as she put the bracelet in her niece's palm.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," Olive cried, as her parents held her.

"It's okay. It's okay," Margaret tried to soothe, even though she knew it wasn't. She shared a teary gaze with her husband, as they attempted to comfort their heartbroken daughter.

~*~

George Spencer stood before his burgeoning group of disgruntled anti-828 people and gave them the latest update, including projecting the photos he had taken of David Nolan's wall in his garage.

"Look, our mission with Humanity First is simple…to create a greater, safer, stronger Nation for us and our children," George said.

"The passengers of Flight 828 threaten that mission. They've robbed banks. They've been accused of murder. And rumors of their inhuman abilities run rampant. Let us be clear. These are 185 walking time bombs working in our hospitals, our universities, our police precincts," he continued.

"Which one of them will be next to detonate?" he added, as he conducted their latest meeting, before it ended and that's when Killian, now a member, approached to speak to the leader.

"I appreciate you attending," George said.

"I appreciate you asking," Killian replied.

"Listen, just a heads up. I wouldn't be surprised if people in your orbit start to get interrogated about that club fire the other night," Killian warned.

"I'm on the verge of exposing the 828ers for the threat they are. Violence would make them sympathetic. Why would I do that?" George said.

"I'm not saying you would. My sources tell me it was a rogue member of the Church of the Believers," Killian replied.

"Their leader disappeared, too. Probably in hiding," he added.

"This is good. We could use this. False flag operation set by 828 sympathizers to generate support. Thank you. You've proven quite valuable," George said. Killian smiled and nodded.

"Happy to help," he replied.

"Killian, uh, one favor to ask," George said. Killian nodded curtly.

"A movement like ours needs all types, but we've got some... impulsive members. Your pal Nick for one. He's quite effective at bringing new people to the movement, but he tends to act without thinking," George said.

"Which could be detrimental to our goals. Please keep an eye on him. We gotta get these bastards before they get us," George added. Killian forced a smile.

"I'll definitely keep an eye on him," he agreed.

~*~

Regina had spent the morning planning a service for her father and then came to the hospital to work in an attempt to take her mind off everything. She analyzed the sample she had taken from her half brother and the results were clear. Definitely frostbite.

"Regina?" Neal asked, as he poked his head in.

"Hey…" she said tiredly.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah…just tired," she replied.

"I can come back later if you want," he said.

"No…I actually was here most of the night," she replied.

"The last thing I want to do is take you away from an emergency," Neal said.

"There's no one else to save. They suspended the search-and-rescue. It's just search-and-recovery now. What's up?" she asked, as he showed her his hand.

"Wow…this looks worse than it was last night," she said.

"Yeah…it's definitely not getting any better. It's just like in the cave," he replied.

"I'm freezing to death," he added.

"The Death Date," she realized.

"Afraid so…guess I knew this was coming," he said.

"Have you told your father and Emma yet?" Regina asked.

"No…and neither can you," he pleaded.

"Neal…they're going to notice," she chided.

"I know…I just know that they're going to try and find a solution and I'm not sure there is one," he answered. She sighed.

"Maybe…but if there is, I'm the one to find it. That is, if you're open to spending some time with me while I do some tests and research," she said. He shrugged.

"If you think you can help me, I'd like to try," Neal replied. Regina smiled.

"Then let's get started. I quite like having siblings and I'm not about to lose one already if I can help it," she replied, as they shared a smile.

~*~

What she had just learned gave her pause. She had just discovered that Killian was snooping into her caseload. The desk sergeant just let it slip to her that he asked for her investigations under the guise of helping her with a promotion, which was crap and meant that he was up to something. She just didn't know what.

"I'm sorry…Killian did what?" Emma asked, as her new partner discussed what she had observed earlier.

"Defended the Xers. At least that's what it sounded like to me. He was insistent that they couldn't be involved in the arson," Ruby said, as Emma looked concerned.

"What?" Ruby asked.

"I mean, the Xers didn't start the fire, but…" Emma replied, as she trailed off.

But…?" Ruby asked.

"I don't know. My gut is telling me that Killian's involved in something that could cause some serious problems," Emma replied.

"You think he's in with the Xers?" Ruby asked.

"Do you?" Emma asked in return.

"I hate to say it, but, yeah, I do. I-I think he's leaking police intel to them. He copied my investigations and then he lied about it," Emma said.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Ruby asked. She nodded.

"That's all I have on him, so I can't…" she trailed off.

"Let's tail him," Ruby suggested.

"I'm not there yet," Emma replied.

"Do you want answers or not?" Ruby asked and they shared a long gaze, before Emma nodded.

~*~

David returned to the kitchen, after checking on their daughter and sighed, as Margaret put her arms around him.

"She seems okay, but I don't know. My laying into her about Samdi and following the Believers before all this, I just created this giant void between us," he lamented.

"But you were right, David. Everything you said to her," Margaret replied.

"Yeah, but it doesn't make it any better. I told myself I was gonna make up for lost time, but I just pushed her further and further away from me since I came back, MM," he said.

"I don't know what to do," he added.

"I think we need to give her space. We all need to process TJ's death and she's going to see that Samdi has blood on his hands in this. He made Isaiah believe the passengers were like Gods," she said. He nodded.

"I just wish there was more I could do. Olive just lost the first love of her life. I have to do something to help her," he replied.

"I know baby, but you know you can't protect her from her pain," she reasoned. He nodded.

"I just can't stop thinking about that Alzarus illustration of the man carrying the girl through the fire. It might as well have been a picture of me and Olive at the nightclub," he said.

"I know. It gives me the chills," she replied.

"It means something. It has to," he insisted, as he was suddenly seized with a Calling. It was odd though, as he heard a chanting of sorts…something he couldn't understand.

"What was it?" Margaret asked.

"I…I don't know. It was chanting…I couldn't understand it," he said, as he dialed his sister.

"Emma…did you just get that Calling?" he asked.

"No. Why? What was it?" she asked.

"Some sort of chanting, but not in a language I recognized," he explained.

"Sorry…I wish I could help," she replied.

"The last Calling I had was about fire. I didn't figure it out until it was too late. People died. I can't let that happen again," he said.

"Okay, well, a lot more people survived because of you, too. Look, hang in there, okay?

I'll... I'll call you if I hear anything," Emma replied.

"All right," he said, as he hung up and Margaret put her arms around him.

"You'll figure this out…let's go check on Ollie," she suggested. He nodded and they joined hands, before going upstairs together.

~*~

"Okay, your MRI looks good. There's no bone or muscle damage. I want to check your blood-cell count and filtration, okay?" Regina asked. But Neal was frustrated.

"This is all just a band-aid. It's not gonna save my life," he said.

"No," Regina admitted.

"So what will?" he asked, but she was reluctant to answer.

Regina, I've got six months. Please," he insisted. She realized that he knew she knew something.

I've been working on something and I was going to test it on myself, but MM kind of freaked out on me for even thinking about that. But if it works…I think it might eliminate the DNA anomaly from our bodies. The problem is…that it is experimental and might kill you instead," she said.

"Uh hello…I'm dying anyway. I'm your perfect test subject," he replied.

"It's still preliminary, Neal. I don't know how long it's gonna last or if it's even safe. There could be side effects, and it could backfire. It could make it worse," she admonished.

"Worse than dying?" he asked. She sighed.

"Look, Emma and I... she makes me feel like my life is finally coming together. And to lose it all because of this Death Date…" he said, trailing off.

"I know it sounds sappy…but it's the truth. I have to do everything I can to stop this. If it doesn't work…I'm gonna die anyway," he said bluntly.

"You're not a sap. Listen, when you care for someone that deeply, I get wanting to hold onto it, no matter what," Regina replied.

"Been there, done that?" he asked.

"I wish I was still there. But I lost it…or I thought I lost it. Turns out it was actually taken from me," she replied.

"Cora…" he said knowingly.

"Regina…I don't have any more time to waste," he insisted.

"Okay. First, you need to clear the pre-clinical testing… kidney function, liver enzymes, tox screens and that's just to name a few. If you pass that, and assuming your system doesn't reject the infusion, then, yes, you might have a chance of actually beating this," she said. He smiled.

"Great…let's get started then," he replied.

~*~

Margaret gently rocked their daughter in her arms, as she lay on the bed with her, trying to bring her some comfort.

"It's all my fault. I made TJ go to the nightclub. He didn't even want to be there," Olive sniffed.

"This was not your fault, Olive. It was a horrible tragedy at the hands of someone who was seriously disturbed," Margaret said.

"Olive…this drawing... Every time I see it, I see you and me. I just had a Calling when I

was looking at it downstairs," David gently explained.

"What did the Calling say?" Olive asked.

"I don't know. It was some sort of chanting. But I think it has something to do with you and me," he replied.

"I'm not a part of the Callings," she refuted.

"I think now you are. I think we're supposed to do something together," he countered.

"Well, it's a little late now, isn't it?" she snapped angrily.

"If some random, old drawing suddenly makes me a part of the Callings, then why didn't the drawings show you carrying me and TJ out of the fire? Why didn't the Callings stop this?" she shouted.

"The Callings didn't do this to TJ, Olive," Margaret gently admonished.

"Well, it sure didn't save him, either," Olive shot back.

"Look, Ol, there's a memorial site set up at the nightclub. I could take you. We could both pay our respects together," David suggested.

"I can't. Okay? I am not ready," she replied.

"Okay," he replied.

"But you should go," she suggested. He nodded and hugged her gently, before kissing Margaret and heading out.

~*~

Killian walked into the bar he had been frequenting and up to the counter.

"Where's your brother?" he asked Gretta.

"Hey, babe. Missed you, too," she teased. He shook his head and smiled at her.

"You good?" he asked. She nodded.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, as they shared a kiss.

"Hey Rogers…you want a drink?" Nick asked from the pool table.

"We're just, uh, celebrating a few less 828ers in the world today," he added. Killian nodded.

"Can we talk?" Killian asked.

"Yeah, okay," Nick replied, as the taller man pulled him aside.

"So, I just spoke with George. He doesn't want anyone going off the rails over this," he said.

"He's got a solid plan, Nick. He just...he wants us to stay on course," Killian added.

"You and George are having private pow-wows now?" Nick asked suspiciously.

"I-I was the one who brought you in on this," he added.

"He knows how invaluable you are to the cause. He just... He just wants us to stay chill right now," Killian remarked.

"You're getting pretty cozy pretty fast there, Rogers. Moving in on my sister, up George's ass…" he accused, causing Killian to shove him back a little.

"Hey!" Nick growled.

"You had better watch it. That bloody mouth of yours is gonna get you in some serious trouble one of these days," he warned. Nick chuckled.

"With who? You?" Nick challenged.

"I'll take you," Killian challenged, as Nick remained in his face.

All right Nick, just...stop it," Gretta said, as she pulled them apart. But Killian wasn't backing down either.

"Killian…" she said, as he finally let it go and retreated outside with her.

"I swear Nick was dropped on his head as a baby," she joked.

"It's the only way to explain how we're related," she added.

"You gotta watch out. The kid can go pretty psycho," she warned.

"So can I," he warned.

~*~

Ruby used her binoculars to observe the two people outside the bar and then handed them to Emma.

"This isn't exactly how I pictured spending my Thursday afternoon," Emma complained.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to watch my ex kissing someone else, either," Ruby commented.

"Yeah, I don't love seeing Killian making out with another woman, but... that's not all that's bugging me," Emma replied.

"What then?" Ruby asked.

"This bar... It's not his vibe. At least it didn't used to be," Emma mentioned.

"No, him... him being here, it just feels wrong. There's something going on here," she added.

"I'm gonna go in," Ruby decided.

"No…hold up," Emma protested.

"It has to be me. I'm getting a major "passengers not allowed" vibe from this place. You're the last person who could walk in here incognito," Ruby warned. Emma signed.

"Okay fine…just be careful," she said. Ruby smirked.

"Trust me, it's a trashy bar full of degenerates and fascists. They'll flock right to me," she joked, as she went in and then approached the bar.

"What can I get you?" Gretta asked. By now, Killian was gone so there was no chance of being recognized.

"Just a beer…whatever you have on tap. I'm gonna need it," Ruby said.

"Oh?" Gretta asked curiously.

"Yeah…my flight out of JFK was delayed for four hours and I'd rather scrape a cheese grater against my forehead than wait around for that," Ruby replied, as she was served and then pretended to take an interest in the game of pool being played.

"I got the next one," she said. Nick looked up at her in surprise.

"You?" he questioned.

"Like I told the bartender…I got time to kill and I'm pretty sure I can beat your ass," Ruby replied. He scoffed.

"Is that so?" he asked.

"Twenty bucks says I can," she challenged. He scoffed.

"Rack 'em," he said, as she took the pool stick and proceeded to set up a game. As they played, Ruby took stock of her surroundings and it became obvious quite quickly. There was a red x on the dart board and she spied a few newspaper articles strewn on a table. All of them were about 828 passengers and many had red x's drawn on them. She was true to her word and beat Nick's ass.

"Twenty bucks, fair and square. You wanna hang around for another?" he leered.

"I'd love to…but airport security is still a bitch and the uber is almost here," she replied, as she took his money and discarded her empty bottle, before leaving and getting back into the car.

"You smell like beer," Emma complained.

"Had to make it believable. Even stupid ones get suspicious if you go into a bar and not drink," she replied, as she popped a breath mint.

"And the money?" Emma asked.

"I won it fair and square," Ruby replied. Emma shook her head.

"Great…but did you find anything out?" she asked.

"Well…Killian's new girlfriend may be an x'er, because her brother and his bonehead friends sure as hell are. There's red x's all over in there and 828 paraphernalia," she replied. Emma sighed. She couldn't believe it. Killian was hanging out with x'ers. If Ruby hadn't told her about the x'er stuff from her own observation, she would have had trouble believing it.

"I'm sorry…looks like he's close with them. Especially Nick, but I have faces now so we can go back to the station and look through the database," Ruby suggested. Emma nodded, before putting the car in gear and driving off.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Emma #Regina Mills #Henry #Mr. Gold #Neal Cassidy #AU #Manifest #With a Once twist #romance #adventure #family #mystery #Lightning in a Bottle

[doctorstethoscope]

Yes, Mr. President || 100 Days In (18+)

art by @mrsh0tchner

two smutty updates in a row?? wow I’m really spoiling you guys.

story summary: Scandal! AU– your mentor, David Rossi, has recruited you to make Senator Aaron Hotchner the next President of the United States. Once described as a political nun, the Senator helps you see that maybe you can mix business and pleasure.

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: 18+ CONTENT MINORS DNI. dirty talk, thigh riding, slight bdsm, sir kink

wordcount: 2.5k

You work at the White House. You work for the President of the United States. It’s a sentence that feels weird every time you say it to yourself, even a month after Inauguration Day, and you’re not sure if that will ever really change. But it’s real. You get up every morning, walk down Pennsylvania Avenue, greet Hank, the security guard at the White House gate, and make your cup of coffee in the communication department’s kitchenette, just down the hall from the oval office. On this particular morning, however, you have a visitor waiting for you in your office when you arrive, with his feet up on your desk.

“Good morning, Mr. President,” you smile as you enter your office, intentionally leaving the door open as you place your briefcase on a chair and move to hang up your coat. 

“Good morning,” he says back. 

“I can’t imagine your scheduler would be happy to learn that you’re in my office right now, instead of adhering to her perfectly-manicured itinerary,” you narrow your eyes at him playfully. 

“She gave me an hour to read through this,” he says, brandishing a briefing binder. “She didn’t say anything about where I had to read it.” 

“And yet, here you are… not reading it,” you pointed out. 

“I finished it. I was motivated,” he tells you, swinging his feet off of your desk and standing up, crossing the room to stand in front of you.

“Motivated, huh?” You smirked as he reached around you to close your office door behind you. 

“Particularly motivated,” he assures you as he wraps his arms around your waist, and you tilt your chin up for a kiss, raising one hand up to run your fingers through his hair, but you resist the urge to pull at it. He couldn’t leave your office looking too ruffled.

“How much time do you have?” You ask between kisses. 

“Not as much as I want,” he answers, pulling you closer. “Never enough time,” he whispers against the skin of your neck before leaving another kiss there.

“We’d better stop, then,” you say, pulling away, although not far enough that he has to stop holding you.

He pulls you towards the couch in the corner of your office. “I’ve got fifteen minutes. Just sit with me? You can work, I’ll be good,” he says, looking at you with puppy-dog eyes, and you’re helpless. 

“You’d better be good,” you warned him, breaking into a smile as you did so. You pulled your laptop out of your briefcase and settled in next to him on the couch, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulders. He made some notes in the margins of his briefing materials while you skimmed through the morning’s press clips, sipping at your coffee as you did so. All too soon, the President’s phone buzzed, warning him of an upcoming meeting. “I don’t want to go,” he groaned. 

“You haven’t even cleared your first one hundred days,” you point out. “Come on, get up. I’ll see you in an hour at Senior Staff,” you tell him, standing up from the couch and extending a hand to help him up. 

He takes your hand, pulls himself up, and then pulls you in for a kiss. “I guess it’s not the worst way to start a morning,” he smiles at you. “I’ll see you in a little bit,” he says, shooting you a wink as he slipped out the door. 

“Where are we on cabinet nominations?” The President asks a few hours later as you, Rossi, and the rest of senior staff are gathered in the Oval for your first morning meeting of his presidency. 

“Greenaway for Department of Justice is going to sail,” Rossi reports. “She’s got bipartisan support, we could have her confirmed by the end of next week if you want me to put a rush on it.” 

“I’d rather you save that political capital for one of our more challenging nominees,” the President says. “What about Blake for Secretary of Education?” 

“That one’s going to take a little more finagling,” you tell him. “There are some holdouts, a few congressmen concerned about her work with the Italian government when she got her PhD abroad.” 

“But you can handle it?” He asks. 

“Consider it handled.”

The first few months of President Hotchner’s term are a dream. You work harder than you ever have in your life, but you get so much done. Your nominations all sail, and you play footsie with Aaron underneath the table at his first cabinet meeting. You produce a bold, comprehensive outline of his first 100 days, and he delivers it to the media flawlessly. The two of you make out in a closet after that one. You pass your first major piece of legislation, guaranteeing free health care to anyone making less than three times their local poverty level, and you and Aaron have a private dinner in the West Wing, under the guise of business, snuggling on the couch in the Oval Office while your food settles. You were beginning to think that maybe Aaron was right-- maybe you could have it all. 

“We’re going to Camp David,” Rossi announced in the Oval Office while you and the other staff members were awaiting the President a few weeks before the State of the Union. “The President wants to take a few days for a senior staff retreat and to work on the speech.” 

“When are we leaving? Who should we bring from our staff?” You asked. 

“Senior staff only,” Rossi tells you. “President Hotchner made it very clear that the only people writing the speech would be you and him. We leave on Thursday and we’ll come back on Sunday.” 

“Understood, thanks Rossi,” you say. When everyone goes back to their conversations, he takes a step closer to you. 

“I feel like I’ve done a bad job,” he confesses. 

“With the President?” You ask, confused. 

“No, with you,” he clarifies. “I brought you on to this campaign, threw you into the midst of all of this, and I haven’t even checked on you.”

“I’m okay, Rossi,” you assure him with a smile. “I’m great.”

“You sure? This field isn’t for the faint of heart.” 

“When have I ever given you the impression that I was faint of heart?” You scoffed. You weren’t really offended, but the comment did seem to come out of left field. 

“You haven’t, but I still wanted to check on you. Are you doing anything other than working? Getting out, seeing people, dating?” 

Oh man, you did not want to have this conversation. “Well, we’ve been busy, but I’m happy to be busy. We’re doing once in a lifetime work, Rossi. I don’t want to miss any of it.” You deflected. 

“And I don’t want you to miss your youth, bellissima. You live in a town full of people who love politics and the game just as much as you do, and you’re going to tell me you’re not interested in meeting any of them? Not interested in finding a partner?” 

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re saved by the bell when the President walks in. Everyone rises from their seats, which he still hates, even after nearly four months as President. 

“Sit, sit, god. You don’t have to do that,” he assures you as he sinks into his seat behind the resolute desk. Of course, he’s said it every day since the inauguration and no one has listened. “Alright, what do I need to know?” He asks the group. 

The President had decided to offer Dr. Reid a position in the administration, as legislative director. Spencer gave the first report. 

“The Senate doesn’t have any scheduled votes today, but there is a hearing in the education committee that we’re sending a few staffers to. They’re going to discuss college affordability and we want to scope out which Senators may be supportive if we propose expanding the Pell grant,” he explains. 

“Great. Keep me posted. Next?” The Senator nods, his brow set in a determined line. It’s that focused look that just makes everything about him so damn sexy. You licked your lips, suddenly flashing back to the delicious things you’d done on that desk, when Aaron called your name, and you blinked back to reality. 

“There’s a storm approaching the Texas Gulf that FEMA is keeping an eye on, but it isn’t expected to reach national disaster status,” you tell him. “You’re still getting good press on your healthcare reforms, although the other side is hitting harder to try and chip at your success. But, Mr. President, your record speaks for itself and we are taking care of it.”

“Great. And the State of the Union?” 

“I’ll have a first draft ready for you when we arrive at Camp David,” you assure him. 

“No, no. I want to write it, too. Why don’t you stay behind, and we’ll touch base on it. Everyone else, great work, and thank you,” he says, dismissing the rest of the team, and they filter out the doors slowly. 

Aaron raises his eyebrow at you as soon as the door is shut behind him. “You were thinking about doing naughty things on my desk,” he asserts.

You balk, even though he’s completely correct. “I know for a fact that you’re not asking me to include that in the State of the Union.”

“No, but I was serious about you not writing a draft-- I want this to be given to the American people, and to come from the President, but I need your help.” 

“Absolutely, Mr. President. That’s why I’m here,” you smile. 

“Great, so take off your clothes,” he adds plainly, and you bark out a laugh.

“Are you crazy?!” You asked him.

“You brought it up,” he shrugs, loosening his tie just a bit. 

“No, you brought it up.” You correct him. 

“You suggested it with your eyes,” he tells you. “You want me to fuck you so bad that you can’t even walk out of here,” he tells you, and you take in a quick, shallow breath-- you’re shocked, yes, but you’re also undeniably turned on. 

“Mr. President--” you started to warn him, but he cut you off. 

“So damn sexy when you say that,” he tells you, rising from his chair and coming towards you. It’s a bad idea, you know it is. You absolutely cannot have sex in the oval office a second time. Once was bad enough. But maybe just a kiss would be okay. 

You tilted your head up as he approached you, allowed him to crash his lips to yours, relished in the feeling of his big hand over your jaw and cheekbone. He ducks down, settles onto the couch next to you, brings one hand around to settle on your hip. You should have known it would never stop at just a kiss. 

“I’m not getting naked in the Oval Office in the middle of the work day,” you tell him before kissing him again. “I can’t believe you even made me say that sentence.”

He pulls away from you, barely a centimeter, but enough for you to see him roll his eyes, watch his lips quirk up in a devious grin. “I don’t need you to take your clothes off to make you cum,” he says, as if it should be obvious. You’re about to ask him what on earth he could possibly mean by that, when he grabs you by the hips and pulls you into his lap to straddle his thigh. “Would’ve been easier if you weren’t wearing tights,” he mutters. 

“Well, we are at work,” you reminded him pointedly.

He gripped your hips tighter, rocked you against his thigh, just once. You whimpered, nearly collapsing against his chest at the sensation. “Did you want to get back to work?” 

“No Sir,” you whispered breathlessly. 

“Didn’t think so,” he snickered. 

“I.. um,” you bite your lip, unsure if you really want to speak up. 

“What is it, sweet baby?” He asks, his eyes searching yours in an instant, and he’s so full of concern that you almost forget that your panties and the tights he hates so much are the only thing stopping you from leaving a wet spot on his dress pants. 

“I’ve never done this before,” you confess, and he’s visibly relieved. 

“That’s okay, angel. You don’t have to know everything, not with me. Do you want to try it? You know what to say if you don’t,” he reminds you. 

“I know what to say,” you assure him. “I want to try.” 

“Good girl,” he smiles at you. “I’ll help you, because it’s your first time,” he says, his long fingers tensing up again as he rocks you against his thigh. You take his cue, rolling your hips over him, revelling in the delicious way his slacks felt against the skin of your thighs, and the way the thick muscle of him felt against your aching clit. “There you girl, sweet girl. You know what to do,” he says, his grip on you loosening. He leaned forward to kiss your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin there, the sensation of it making you buck against him. You let out a little moan-- it was stimulating, turning you on further, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more.   

“Sir,” you moaned out breathlessly. “I need--” you start, but Aaron cuts you off. 

“I’ll help you, my love. This is new,” he assures you, before shifting his hands to your ass, beginning to bounce his thigh up and down as you rocked. The sensations were overwhelming. You cry out, and he muffles you by crashing his lips into yours-- one of you had to be mindful of volume. You let your head fall into the junction of his shoulder and neck, and without warning your orgasm crashes over you-- it’s more powerful than you anticipated, nearly knocks the wind out of you. He hadn’t been inside of you at all-- quite literally, hadn’t laid a finger on you, and still managed to give you an orgasm that left you breathless. He wraps his arms around you as you come down from your high, whispering to you as he runs a hand over your hair. 

“Shhh, shh. You did such a good job, sweet baby. I am so proud of you,” he tells you as he holds you close to him. You take a few moments to breathe in the scent of him, to bring yourself back to reality, before sliding off of his lap. 

“Thank you,” you say.

“No need to thank me,” he assures you, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. “How are you feeling?” He asks. 

“A little in shock, but good,” you assured him, and he laughed. 

“Happy to be of service,” he teases you. 

“I was very impressed by your performance, but you should probably take your pants off for me to return the favor,” you joke. 

“Oh, I can’t. I have a meeting to go to,” he tells you. 

“Are you sure? I feel bad, I didn’t mean to--” 

He places a finger on your lips, shushes you. “Don’t feel bad. I wanted to make you feel good. You work too hard,” he tells you. “You can return the favor some other time. Have a good day. I’ll see you soon,” he smiles, dropping a quick kiss to your lips before walking out the door, as if he had done it a hundred times before. 

tagging:  @ssamorganhotchner​ @qtip-blog​ @averyhotchner​ @the-modernmary​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @choppa-style​ @hotforhotchner11​ @infinite-tides​ @ssahotchie​ @sleepyreaderreads​ @rousethemouse​ @scuttling​ @angelfxllcm​ @silvermercy​ @hotchinkevlar​ @angelhotchner​ @arsonhotchner​ @skyler666​ @mintphoenix​ @gspenc​ @lilacprentiss

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #scandal #scandal au