#& i keep fucking arguing with my one friend about the godfather of all things & i thought it was just like debate between buddies but

[transsexualjoanofarc]

:|

#me.txt #📔 #vents #i feel like such a horrible person right now #not any real reason but like. sighhh #my friend mentioned they were gaving trouble eating so i tried to get them to eat at lunch #& ended up trigfering her & now i feel awful #& i keep fucking arguing with my one friend about the godfather of all things & i thought it was just like debate between buddies but #i now feel like im making her really mad at me #ON THAT POINT #i cant stop FUCKING talking about my interests i cant keep my stupid mouth shut all i do is talk about myself & my interests #my buddy just got out of the fucking psych qlward hes coming over to my house fr a sleepover & i found myself stressing over what movie wed #watch so they dont get triggered #fuck!!! #& talking about my interests & sharing what i like is one of my love languages but i feel like im incqpavle of talkong about #ANYTHING else & its so FUCKING annoying like CHRIST i cannot tolerate myself i dont know how yall do it #im just a horrible person to be around #& its so hard fr me to connect with other people about THEIR lives & what THEY have going on #i feel like my drawing isnt improving & my writing is repetitive & i cant make anything well & im just stuck in the same old cycles im. tir #tired of myself #God can i be anyone else fr a day

[kariachi]

Sorry still a little bit on that idea of an alternative story to The Color Of Monkey-

Little kids in Undertown have been just vanishing and given he is setting himself up as The Person in Charge and is a local hero the parents and guardians turn to Argit about it

(Bonus points if we see this in the cold open and it leans heavy into The Godfather)

Should they be turning to the Plumbers instead? Maybe, but Argit's not about to argue because 1) more power and influence, and 2) this is a post-Rooters Argit and he's not trusting the Plumbers with a fucking pet rock nonetheless children, for all he knows they're the ones behind this

As a result, Argit calls up Ben and Rook to get them on the case, because at least them he can trust more that the rest of that lot

He would have called Kevin, has total faith between the two of them they could handle this matter, but given kids are involved figured it would be better to have fuckers he could trust to not lose their temper and straight-up dismantle a fucker in front of the kids

This is all well and good, all the norm, but Ben and Rook about do a double take when he joins them for the mission

Argit's excuses include 'has seen Rook in action and doesn't think Ben can carry his ass dealing in the criminal underworld' and 'have to keep up heroic appearances for political purposes', but over the course of the story it becomes clearer and clearer that his true motivations lean harder into 'Kevin and I have both been that kid snatched up for some jackass's own purposes and despite everything some part of me is still that kid that stayed near danger for his only friend and when he saw that friend go on a murderous rampage risked himself to try to help everybody'

Again, much better if he's going to have a good relationship with Ben's kids later to have an episode that goes 'whatever else he is and does, Argit isn't letting any kids go through anything like he did' rather than what we actually got

What exactly is the evil plot of the day? Is it another 'selling kids as food' thing? Easy slave labor? Throw them in a pit and watch them struggle? Not a clue but it gets dealt with and all the kids are rescued we are not having sad or bittersweet endings here

Argit needs to play a major role in handling shit, either he's helpful with the dealing with fuckers or he turns out to be damn good with little kids and gets them the fuck out of dodge while Ben and Rook handle the fighting- more likely the latter than the former, as much as The Color Of Monkey and some of the Rooters Arc shows there's a steel pipe to beat someone with at the core of the bastard he's not a fighter by preference, better to take advantage of his fucking off abilities to get the kids safe

Mind you I would not turn down a scene where they're trying to get information out of someone and Argit goes full 'my bestfriend isn't Kevin 11 for nothing' mode to the shock of Ben and Rook and the full intimidation of whatever bastard they're dealing with, but we can't have everything in this world

Needs to end with another 'Argit is a hero to a crowd' scene, he is returning the kids after all, but this one giving indication that he's not necessarily playing a part for his own benefit anymore as much as he is slipping into a role some part of him was made for, or at least heading in a direction where that's going to be true

Which itself would point back at the universe where Argit has the Omnitrix, and is at least good enough to be presented as an option for Team Good Bens, and to have seemingly not been looked at by Team Bad Bens when they even went after the firmly Team Good Bens 23

Final scene is Ben and Rook watching this and acknowledging that maybe they can start to see why Kevin's kept him as a friend so long and despite everything, end off with a joke about how they're still not voting for him though

[leclerc-s]

mamma mia! - part four

masterlist previous next

miatate posted new stories

food is a 10/10. company is a 8/10 only because they keep arguing over who's going to win today

monza ready! i've been advised to say forza ferrari. i still know nothing about this sport other than the cars go really fast and i know about four teams. which one is sebastian vettel on again?

daniel's the type of guy to say this one's for you babe then miss the shot. this is a joke, please don't come after me, this message was approved by danny himself.

well, turns out i was wrong. congrats danny 🧡!

george russell twitter brought up an interesting question.

george russell WHO GETS GODFATHER!! IT SHOULD BE ME!!

george russell I WILL MAKE A PRESENTATION ON WHY I SHOULD BE GODFATHER

sebastian vettel she's not even close to giving birth why are you ready to argue over this??

pierre gasly IT SHOULD BE ME! I'M CHARLES'S BEST FRIEND

alex albon fuck you, that gives you no right. controversial opinion, i nominate lewis.

lando norris see i would say me but i know none of them trust me with a human.

mia tate my vote's for mick.

kimi raikkonen not me.

mia tate well that takes kimi out of the running.

mick schumacher ME! PLEASE ME!

carlos sainz i should be godfather because i'm charles's teammate

sergio perez by that logic it should be me because i'm max's teammate and a father.

lewis hamilton why am i being involved in this? please don't involve me in this. i do not have the mental strength to be responsible for a mini max, a mini charles, or a mini daniel.

mia tate you get to be the cool uncle then.

fernando alonso i want to be the fun uncle.

mia tate well that takes fernando, lewis, and lando out of the running too.

george russell

george russell i have a presentation ready.

lando norris oh my god. he actually did it.

alex albon the fact that he surprised you at all is why you shouldn't be godfather. lando norris well fuck you. you shouldn't be god father either alex albon oh i know i'm not getting picked but at least i'm higher up on the list than you.

esteban ocon if it's not me let it me mick please. he will not stop pouting about it.

lance stroll it should be me. i'll spoil the fuck out of that kid.

carlos sainz that doesn't make you special lance. any one of us could do that.

lewis hamilton not that it matters or will stop them from arguing, i think it should be seb. he's the only one responsible enough for a human

kimi raikkonen 👍

max verstappen while the idiots continue arguing, who gets godfather??

mia tate none of you because what if i pick daniel and he ends up being the father?? do you know how awkward that would be?? how would i explain that to the baby?? 'hey by the way your father is also your godfather because i fucked up.' thanks but no.

daniel ricciardo not mick. he's a baby

mia tate but i like mick?? he's adorable

daniel ricciardo he's a baby!!

charles leclerc i vote pierre!

mia tate no?? not the french fry also my sister is godmother, i don't care what any of you have to say. i'm the one carrying this child.

daniel ricciardo well at least one thing is decided. max verstappen i mean, i sort of figured it would be her. charles leclerc i'm okay with that.

charles leclerc i don't get why we can't just have pierre be godfather

mia tate 1. he's french 2. he doesn't seem responsible for a human. it's the same reason lando won't be godfather.

max verstappen but mick does?

mia tate his father is michael schumacher, that says enough.

daniel ricciardo it doesn't change the fact that it would be a baby looking after another baby

max verstappen honorary godfather then

charles leclerc i still think it should be pierre.

mia tate of course you do.

daniel ricciardo realistically it has to be someone responsible right?

mia tate yes charles leclerc i know no one like that. max verstappen i can't believe you just said that shit. only one person came to mind.

mia tate honorary godfathers are mick and alex

charles leclerc ooh george is not going to like that one bit. daniel ricciardo why alex? not that i mind. mia tate he's the only one not fighting over the title unlike the rest of them and i like his pets. i want a cat.

max verstappen i have two cats! you should move to monaco.

mia tate we are not doing this again. my whole life is in new york

charles leclerc and we all live in monaco. it's the reasonable choice.

mia tate well being unreasonable got me into this mess in the first place

daniel ricciardo i'm not moving to new york. best i can do is los angeles.

max verstappen daniel, you work out of the uk and so do i, charles works out of italy. monaco is the best choice.

mia tate i go to school in new york

charles leclerc YOU SAID YOU'RE DOING ONLINE SCHOOL WORK! STOP LYING!

mia tate fuck. i forgot i told you that.

charles leclerc i pay attention. sometimes.

max verstappen a miracle truly.

mia tate seriously, will you two just kiss already? there is too much sexual tension between you two.

max verstappen i literally can't stand him

daniel ricciardo stop fucking cuddling him then?

max verstappen no? i'm comfortable where i am. maybe you should move your big ass head.

mia tate YOU GUYS ARE CUDDLING?? WITHOUT ME? THIS IS TREACHEROUS!

mia tate now, according to twitter i should be asking what happened in vegas back in 2019 and for max and charles to follow each other. why are you two not following each other?

charles leclerc i'm petty and the answer is austria 2019. daniel ricciardo he unfollowed him while they were on the same flight. this man was ready to commit murder on the podium. charles leclerc i was not. max verstappen you were, ask valtteri.

mia tate one moment i have to go break the news on who godfather is going to be

charles leclerc well who the fuck is it going to be?? mia tate think whoever has the same name as the red crab in the little mermaid daniel ricciardo he's never going to get that. charlie, think your former teammate. charles leclerc oh. turns out i do know someone responsible. he was my second choice after pierre max verstappen liar.

mia tate after much consideration we've decided on who gets to be godfather...

george russell please let it be me. i made a slideshow and everything.

mia tate but first, honorary godfathers are mr. mick schumacher and mr. alex albon

lando norris BOOOO ALEX! THAT SHOULD BE ME!

charles leclerc i want it to be known that i voted for pierre but they ignored me.

pierre gasly wow, fuck you guys.

mia tate and this is why you didn't get honorary godfather.

mick schumacher aww, thanks guys.

alex albon i knew not arguing over godfather would pay off. suck on that george.

daniel ricciardo she picked you because she likes your pets. i think she's plotting on kidnapping one of your cats. alex albon a win is a win. i will take anything considering the year i've had.

mia tate PLEASE HOLD YOUR APPLAUSE. GODFATHER GOES TO THE 4X WORLD CHAMPION, THE ONE WHO GOT MY FATHER TO APOLOGIZE AFTER WHO KNOWS HOW MANY FUCKING YEARS.

carlos sainz we had no chance if sebastian was even in running. i got my hopes up for nothing.

george russell can i at least get godmother?

abigail tate no, the fuck? that's my job. right? i get godmother? max verstappen there wasn't much of a choice. she didn't let us nominate anyone else.

lance stroll wait, so who's godfather?

esteban ocon is there anyone else here who is a 4x wdc? lance stroll oh it's seb.

sebastian vettel me?

daniel ricciardo do you know and other sebastian vettel? mia tate i mean, lewis did nominate you, you're the only responsible one here, you've put up with both charles and daniel as teammates, you yelled at my dad, and you helped abby and i fix out relationship with him. there really wasn't any other choice but you. mia tate i don't exactly trust any of my friends back in new york to be godfather.

lewis hamilton well congrats to seb.

sebastian vettel i'm honored to godfather.

abigail tate oh my god. marc's going to freak the fuck out when he finds out.

mia tate i'm gonna make an instagram post on my private so i can see him freak out.

abigail tate can't wait to see that.

t8_m godfather? godfather of the future leclerc-tate-ricciardo-verstappen baby. boy is that a mouthful

view all comments

honeybadger3 you know what else is a mouthful?

→ sharl16lechair you’re such a child

→ vershtappen33max you're literally giggling at that joke right now?

→ sharl16lechair shut up?

papayaboy4 did you google these pictures or something?

→ t8_m you think i just have pictures of them saved on my phone? of course i googled them.

papayaboy4 still think i could’ve done a better job as godfather

itz_abbyt8 and marc is going to lose his shit in 3,2,1!

marc_t8 HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK?

marc_t8 HOW DO I GET REINCARNATED AS THIS BABY

marc_t8 THERE'S NO WAY THIS BABY GETS THE FUCKING SEBASTIAN VETTEL AS ITS GODFATHER

→ t8_m can't forget that mick and alex are honorary godfathers

→ marc_t8 OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!

smoothoperatorsainz this just isn’t fair.

georgieporgie63 nah this shit is fucking unfair.

estiebestie31 at least i don't have to deal with a pouty mick over this.

→ 18strollin pouty mick is not a good thing. source? trust me bro.

→ ohmickey47 guys, it's not that bad.

→ roscoesdad it's the equivalent of having a whining puppy.

→ vershtappen33max can confirm

p10_gasly i still think i would've been the better choice

→ t8_m no the fuck you wouldn't. you can barely take care of yourself, i'm supposed to trust you with my child? no thanks.

marc_t8 I LITERALLY CAN'T FUCKING DO THIS! THIS IS THE WORST THING EVER!! I'M GOING TO COMMIT CRIMES.

marc_t8 NO, IT'S JUST NOT FAIR!

→ sharl16lechair please don't do this

→ marc_t8 LET ME MEET SEBASTIAN AND YOU HAVE A DEAL!

→ sharl16lechair DEAL!

→ marc_t8 FUCK YEAHH!!

taglist: @six-call @barcelonaloverf1life @janeholt3 @queen-aria-things @camdensreg @mycenterfold @woozarts @vellicora @nichmeddar @thisismereading @inloveallthetime @baw-sixteen @floxly @dear-fifi @chiliwhore @ilove-tswizzle @nataliambc @greigreyhiyyih

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! i realized as i was finishing this that i accidentally named marc, one of charles' many middle names, but we're sticking with it either way. speaking of, does anyone have any ideas of who i should use as a faceclaim for marc? i'm literally lost in that sense. anyways, hope the godfather debacle delivered even though i had decided since i started this that seb was going to be godfather, no matter what.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #f1 fic #f1 instagram au #formula 1 fic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #mamma mia series #fanfic #fanfiction #daniel ricciardo x female oc #max verstappen x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc #f1 x mamma mia crossover

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part II

Word Count: 1,846 Warnings: References to drug use. PTSD. Ben Affleck. As always, if I forgot anything please message me and I'll amend this warning. A/N: Protect Francisco Morales at all goddamn costs, honestly. 

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

“Fish?”

He cringes inward at his military nickname, it rips at his heart hearing it drip from his best friend’s mouth now. This man he would die for, almost has died for. None of the others had called him that in years, he insisted on Frankie with them. But he’d barely heard from Santiago, had no way of telling him.

He hears the words he’s saying, same shit he always says:

“I need a pilot. I can’t do this thing without you."

Years of that shit pulling him into another tour here. A deployment there. Again and again. Long after he served his sentence and was free to go.

“I don’t know, man. I got the new baby now,” he beams. Santi didn't know Luna and all Frankie wanted to do was tell him about her but he holds back, opting instead for, “And my lady isn’t into my doing this kinda shit anymore.”

He looks back at Will, a knowing look exchanged between the two. He is begging for his brother to step in, say something. Save him. He’s throwing Leah under the bus but, fuck it, it’s true. She isn’t into him doing this kinda shit anymore. And she wasn’t the biggest fan of Santi, always coming up with shit to get the rest of the boys into.

“Wha—what does that mean?”

Frankie lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding all day and stands, knowing he’ll start shaking if he doesn’t. The knee bouncing is getting out of hand but he was hesitant to seek out anti anxiety medication while detoxing. He’d just sweat it all out anyway. Santiago’s droning on behind him, hell bent on staving off rejection.

“Did you read the text? This can change you and that baby’s life forever.”

Leave it to Santi to exclude Leah, he wasn’t necessarily her biggest fan either. But to just gloss right over her? Didn’t even fucking ask Luna’s name.

He crosses his arms, “What happened to that bullshit about going back to your mother’s homeland and empowering the people to police themselves?”

Santiago stares him down, a power grab of a laugh escaping him.

“Anyway, I lost my license. I can’t even fly right now.” Please just drop it, please just drop it, please just drop it.

Benny’s wrapping his knuckles. William’s looking between the two. And Santiago? Santiago is closing the space between them.

“I don’t need a pilot with a license, I’m in with the army down there,” he says as if that makes things better. It doesn’t. He knows it, Frankie knows it, the Millers know it. But if there’s one thing Santiago Garcia gets, it’s his fucking way.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Frankie’s firm, he’s not fucking doing it this time. He’s worked too goddamn hard on everything. Built a life out of rubble and was this close to pissing it away, he’s not gonna seal the deal on Leah’s promise to go.

Santi paces, frustrated, “Lorea is destroying that country. So we get to take out a very bad man, and, oh, by the way, there’s a winning lottery ticket stuck to the bottom of your cowboy boot.” He says that last bit with a mock tone and he’s smiling, believing he’s got Frankie now. A bit of a tease to rile his best friend up, get him laughing, get him in it. “Every guy in that gym would jump at this.”

“Come on, focus, guys! It’s fight night.” —————

“Hey!” He catches up with Santi in the hall, “I didn’t mean to call your shit bullshit.”

He didn’t, really. He knows where Santiago’s coming from but he can’t be the one in the thick of it anymore.

Another of those cool, indignant laughs, “It's all right.”

“I got busted,” Frankie says coolly, like he’s letting you know he left the light on, “it’s not a big deal.”

Santi’s head snaps to the right.

“Actually,” the taller of the two continues, “It's a big deal.”

“Coke?” Santiago’s trying not to let Frank’s addiction shock him, scoffing, “Jesus, Frankie.”

“Technically, it’s a suspension, I’m still under review but… it fucked everything up with Leah. I’ve been detoxing in Will’s spare room for weeks.”

“You’re telling me she didn’t know before the suspension? I don’t buy that.” Frankie tried to ignore the venom in his words.

“No, she knew. We’ve been in couple’s counseling while I’ve been getting clean, she said she didn’t know it was as often as it was. Just thought it was a hit here and there.”

“So things are good still?”

Frankie takes a deep breath, “We seem to have gotten back to good but that’s not where I wanna be, Pope. I wanna be great.” He looks to Santi and then Will, “What about you? What are you gonna do?”

There was no doubt in the world where Benny stood. He’d follow Santiago into hell. He pretty much had on more than one occasion but Benny always was a wildcard. Will was too calculated for that bullshit, he needed a plan. He needed foundation under his feet, not just charisma and Frankie would follow him. Frankie owed him his life. Will was the one to convince Frankie to hang it up. The one putting a half dead Frankie in cold showers and pumping his fucking stomach on no sleep. Will was the one Leah called when Frankie got too close to the edge. His brother, Luna’s godfather.

“I said if Redfly’s in, I’m in.”

Fuck! Fucking Tom. Frankie takes his hat off, adjusts his hair. I fucking hate Tom. —————

“Tom is not in our wedding,” Leah glared down the kitchen island at Frankie, arguing again about the goddamn wedding party. She didn’t even want it anymore. Had thrown her hands up, on more than one occasion, and begged to just run down to the courthouse.

And it all circled back to Tom fucking Davis.

“We served together for ten years, Leah! It’s a bit fucked up to have the rest of the boys up there in tuxes, Tess as our flower girl and Tom is,” he flails his hands out, “Three rows back with that one coworker who brings you coffee every Friday.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d let Tom sit that close to the altar, Francisco Morales. And next to Alexa? She is my angel and Tom Davis will be nowhere near her, do you understand me?”

“Then marry Alexa, babe!”

Leah put her hands on her hips, “Bitch, I might.”

He breaks and laughs, lifting his hat to rub at his forehead, “What do you want me to tell him then? You have plenty of friends who could be a fourth bridesmaid.”

“How about you drop Benny too?” She shrugs, “Just keep Will and Santi and I’ll keep my sisters. Two and two.”

He throws the hat on the counter, “YOU LOVE BENNY!”

“You're right, baby,” she laughs, eyes bright. A challenge on the tip of her tongue. "Drop Santi.”

He charges after her, ready for her words, and chases her through the house. Their house. Still nowhere near unpacked after a month and he’s cursing the unintended obstacle course he’s laid out for himself. She’s making quick work of it but, fuck, he’s out of shape.

He runs up the stairs, back screaming with every step as he gains on her. It helps his legs are much longer than hers.

She makes it to the bedroom, spinning to close the door but he grabs her before she can, pinning her down with all his weight. She insisted on the nicest sheets they could find and almost never made the bed, preferring to fall right into the softness without much work.

He ran his hand down her body, drumming his fingers in a soft rhythm until he reached her thigh, hitching it over his hip.

Her heart was still racing from the chase but Frankie felt it tick upwards as he placed his lips on her neck.

“Francisco,” she whined, “we can’t do this right now. We have to do grown up things.”

He smiles into the soft skin, “this is grown up things.”

“You know what I mean.”

He looks up at her, “hmm…” He’s got her right where he wants her, none the wiser as he reaches down to her knee and—

“Frankie, what are you doing?” Her voice comes out an octave higher, panic in her eyes pleading with him not to when the corner of his mouth crooks upwards and—

He digs his fingers into the soft flesh at the bend of her knee, smile blown wide as she screams out like a hyena.

“Stop! Stop!” She laughs through labored breaths, “baby, it was just a joke.”

“You're not funny,” he lulls with a kiss.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” her eyes filled with hurt and conviction, “I'm hilarious so… ya know, jot that down.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“But Tom fucking Davis is not in our wedding or I swear to god, Francisco Morales, I will call the whole goddamn thing off. It is my day and I’m not having his big Irish head in my wedding photos for the rest of my life.”

He laughs again, “Fine. But what should I tell him?”

“Tell him I fucking hate him.”

“You don’t hate anybody, baby, I don’t think you’ve got that in your heart. Be serious with me, please. What do I tell him?”

“Tell him,” she thinks for a second, because she absolutely does have the capacity for hate in her heart, “that I can’t choose amongst my friends for a fourth bridesmaid and so I just want to keep the party small with only my sisters.”

He seems satisfied by that, nodding his head. “But I am keeping Santi.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“But…”

Her stare is like daggers, “I’m not talking about Tom anymore.”

“No. No, it’s not that,” he’s laughing, his life is all laughter now. “I just still think we should set Pope up with Kristyn.”

She’s pushing out from under him, sitting up for the higher ground. Her finger is in his face, her words are measured, “If Santiago Garcia even so much as looks at my little sister, I will do what so many have tried and failed to do before.”

“And what's that, sweetheart?”

“I will kill him.”

The whole bed is shaking with his laughter now, “You're right, baby, you’re hilarious.” —————

Will’s in front of them now, hands on his knees, “What's the verdict?”

Tom looks at Frankie, then to Will, “I'm in for the recce if you guys are.”

The world goes quiet, replaced by a high pitched ringing in Frankie’s ear as he downs the world’s shittiest beer.

Fuck.

“Fish?” Santiago’s voice cuts clear through, always had.

Frankie lowers the plastic cup, “When is it?”

“We leave Thursday.”

Fuck.

Again, he lets go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, staring off into the ring. Staring off at nothing and everything.

“Okay.”

This could change his family’s life forever.

Fuck.

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @notcookiebelle | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​

#i believe in francisco morales supremacy #francisco 'catfish' morales #okay but frankie was actually baby #frankie morales #triple frontier #god i'm really posting another fanfic before bed and dipping i love y'all #fanfiction #pedro pascal #santiago 'pope' garcia #william 'ironhead' miller #benny miller #tom 'redfly' davis #charlie hunnam #oscar isaac #oc #ofc #original character #original female character #fanfic

[honey-dewey]

The Monster we Share

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 2,812

Warnings: PTSD for military action, sexual assault, and abuse. Mentions of abuse, panic attacks and dissociation, one very bitchy ex-wife, mentions of canon-typical violence, I think that’s it. 

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Frankie would tell you he was messed up, at which point you would retaliate with the fact that you were just as messed up as he was. Both diagnosed with PTSD, life isn’t easy, but it doesn’t always suck either.

Dating someone with PTSD was difficult.

Dating someone with PTSD when you also had PTSD was nothing short of a hellscape.

You had met Francisco Morales through a friend of a friend, and after a few drinks and some chatting, you two were close friends. Fast forward six months, and you were dating and living together in Frankie’s house. It would’ve been a miracle.

Would’ve, of course, being the key word here.

Soon into your relationship, you heard about Frankie’s PTSD involving his time in the military, specifically his non-military mission down in South America from a year ago. You had opened up then, spilling about abuse from an ex and the horror show that had been your life for almost three straight years. You’d never seen Frankie look vicious, but in that moment, he looked like a killer.

Now, a year into your relationship, and you were still navigating the rocky parts.

Namely the nightmares.

You woke in a cold sweat, broken from your nightmare by a harsh scream coming from your side. Scrambling upright, you tried to rouse Frankie, who was thrashing and screaming, his eyes still closed.

“Frankie!” You yelled, putting your hands on his shoulders and doing your best to wake your boyfriend. “Frankie please!”

Frankie shot upright, eyes wide open, and immediately took a swing in your direction. You jumped back, but he was faster. Thankfully, his fist didn’t hit your face, which was where he was aiming, but with all the jostling around, he did catch your shoulder.

You yelped, falling off the bed and immediately starting to cry, curling up as small as you could. Despite the obvious differences from your previous apartment and relationship, all you could see, all you could hear, was your ex.

“Babe?” Frankie’s raw voice echoed through your mind. “Babe?” He sounded more urgent, and you realized, with detached worry, that it was because you were hyperventilating. “Babe!”

He pulled you close, something which you didn’t have the energy to object. Carefully lining your back against his chest and sitting you in his lap, Frankie leaned against the wall and held you against him as your panic died down, as you realized you were safe. No one in this house would ever hurt you, not on purpose.

When you finally stopped breathing heavy, you collapsed into Frankie’s embrace, feeling utterly boneless and totally spent. It was rare you entered a dissociative state after panic attacks, but this time must’ve just been unlucky.

“Hey,” Frankie breathed, and you heard him very faintly, as if he were speaking through a pane of glass. Not much stuck when you dissociated, but despite that, Frankie was determined to talk to you. “Can I lift you onto the bed?” He never got a response, but just him having the heart to actually ask instead of just doing it was comforting. After a beat, he lifted you up and carefully placed you on the bed, laying beside you once he was done.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, running feather light fingers across your aching shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t respond. Your eyes were open, but you couldn’t really see. All you could do was lay there, waiting for your brain to turn back on again. Frankie stayed beside you the entire time, humming ABBA songs and trying to shake away the remnants of his own nightmare.

When you finally sparked back to awareness, it was your hearing that came back first. Able to anchor onto Frankie’s humming, you pulled yourself out of the dark, blinking and twitching your fingers as your sense of feeling returned. Then your sense of smell, then your touch, then you could taste blood on your tongue. Finally, your sight unclouded.

Frankie must’ve noticed you blinking more than once in a row and immediately reached over to the bedside table and held a glass of water. With one hand, he helped guide you to sitting, and then he pressed the glass into your hands. “Drink,” he said softly, and you did, glad for the water to wash the metal taste out of your mouth.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asked, taking the glass once it was empty. You nodded, not trusting your vocal chords to work right now.

“Just wanna get some sleep?” Frankie asked, and you nodded again.

Nothing makes you want sleep more than a two AM panic attack, so you ended up sleeping until noon, only really rolling out of bed because Frankie was missing and you wanted to check on him.

You found him on the couch, eating lunch and sitting on the phone, quietly arguing with someone.

“No!” He whisper yelled. “Absolutely not, I get custody! She’s my daughter too!”

You slowly walked into the kitchen, trying not to be spotted. There was still coffee in the pot for you, and you made yourself a cup while Frankie got even more mad.

“Marisa,” he hissed. “Don’t you fucking dare. I deserve to see her too, even if it’s just weekends!” He was quiet for a minute before responding. “You leave my partner out of this!” He yelled, practically at full volume, and you jumped, splashing coffee all down your front. Frankie turned, shocked. “I’m calling you back,” he said firmly. “This is not over.”

As soon as he hung up, Frankie rushed over to you and took the nearly empty mug from you. “Hey, you okay?”

“Better,” you said softly. “How’s Emmie?”

Frankie sighed, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. “Marisa still won’t let me have custody,” he said weakly. “I miss Emmie. I want to see her.”

You sighed, wrapping Frankie in a hug. “It’ll be okay Frankie,” you promised. “It’s been a year. I’m sure if we went to court, you could get partial custody if you proved you’d been clean for the whole year, which you have.”

Frankie began to shudder, and you sunk to the ground with him still in your arms. “You’ve never been in a legal battle with Marisa,” he said shakily. “She’s determined to never let Emmie see me again.”

You ground your teeth. “I hate that woman.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Frankie said.

Eventually, with cold coffee on your shirt and your stomach empty, you got up and urged Frankie to get dressed. “We’re going out to lunch,” you said insistently, kissing his knuckles. “Please?”

Frankie relented, and you two ended up driving to a small 24 hour diner that had the best pancakes pretty much ever. You’d only found it because of Benny, who had gotten a job as one of the waiters. You sat at your favorite table, the one in the corner where Frankie could see all the exits, and ordered pancakes.

Five minutes into your meal, you were interrupted.

“Daddy?”

Frankie’s eyes widened, looking at a small baby, barely two, standing near your table. She was a spitting image of Frankie, right down to the curve of her nose and the spark in her eyes. Her two thick pigtails bounced as she began to get excited. “Daddy!”

Frankie was frozen, face stiff. You bent down, smiling at Emmie. “Hiya Emmie. Where’s your mommy?”

Emmie shrugged, and you grew more worried. “Well, where were you sitting?”

“Over there,” Emmie said, pointing to a table.

“Okay,” you said, standing and holding out your hand. “Why don’t we sit back down over there. Your mommy is gonna be super worried when she doesn’t see you over there.”

Right as you finished, a scream echoed through the diner. “You bitch!” Marisa yelled, running over and yanking Emmie from your gentle grip. “How fucking dare you!”

You stepped back. “I’m so sorry Ma'am, she approached us. I was just trying to return her.”

Marisa’s eyes found Frankie and she seethed. “Good luck getting custody now,” she snapped loudly. “You just tried to kidnap Amelia!”

Emmie whined, tugging against her mother. “Daddy!” She yelled, pointing.

For you, everything else faded when you saw Frankie. He was sobbing, curled in a ball and shaking violently, hands gripping his hair and breathing uneven.

“Frankie!” You immediately rushed to his side, trying to dislodge his hands. “Frankie, honey, it’s me.”

“Fish?”

You looked up, seeing Benny standing there, wearing an apron and a horrified expression. “Benny!” You said gratefully. “Thank god, can you comfort Frankie? I’m gonna call the cops.”

“I already did it,” one of the other patrons said, holding up their phone. “And my girlfriend has been filming this whole thing.”

You nodded gratefully, turning your attention back to Frankie. “Hey babe, hey, that’s it,” you praised softly, hearing his breathing even out. “You’re with me, it’s safe. We’re here, in the diner, and Benny’s here. Hey, see, we’re all safe.”

Frankie nodded slowly, regaining himself. “Em?”

You pointed to Emmie, who was being held back by Marisa. “She’s still here. Still safe. See?”

Another slow nod, and then the cops were rushing in. You sat in Frankie’s lap, cradling his head and keeping him secure as they cops asked everyone what had happened. Upon reviewing the footage from the other patron, they took Marisa for questioning, at which she screeched and threw a fit and tried to assault the cop. Emmie, as soon as she was free, ran towards you. Benny scooped her up, holding her close.

“Are you this girl’s father?” The cop asked Benny.

“No,” Benny said. “I’m one of her godfathers. That’s her father, but he doesn’t have any custody.”

The cop sighed. “Write your name and number here, we’ll be in touch about the custody.”

Benny jotted down Frankie’s name and number and nodded to the cop as he left.

“Aight Fish, you ready to go home?” Benny asked, bouncing Emmie in his arms.

Frankie nodded, getting up with your help and trudging to the car.

Emmie watched as Benny sat in the back with her and you drove, holding Frankie’s hand and trying not to let yourself waver. “Is daddy borken?” She asked Benny.

Benny sighed. “No hon, he isn’t broken. His brain just doesn’t like him very much.”

“Oh. Otay.”

The rest of the ride home was near silent. Benny kept Emmie occupied as only he could do, mostly by very quietly teaching her to sing ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall. You didn’t object. It made Frankie smile when she lisps her way through the song, and you would do anything to see that smile again.

The other two boys were waiting for you at home, sitting on the porch. They jumped up when you two arrived back, both eager to see Emmie and make sure Frankie was okay.

“Hey,” Will said softly, pulling you aside as everyone trudges into the house. “Y’know how you told me to keep an ear on you-know-who?”

It’s like a ton of bricks hit your chest. “Yeah?”

Will smiled. “Gone. Completely. At least ten years behind bars for abuse, but the more they look into his past relationships, the more time he gets.”

The bricks suddenly crumbled, and you were crying, tears bubbling over.

“What the hell?” Frankie asked, coming back out and pulling you into a hug. “What’s going on?”

“He’s gone!” You said happily, beyond the tears. “Gone Frankie! He’s gone!”

Will filled in the details, and Frankie was grinning wildly when he finished. “This is amazing,” he said, still hugging you. “Amazing.”

You two headed back in, Frankie’s arm over your shoulder. None of the boys knew how bad your past relationship ran except Will, but they definitely knew something was wrong. So when you came in, teary but smiling, they immediately asked what was wrong.

“Their ex is gone for good,” Frankie said happily.

It was a cause for celebration, which was just what you did. Benny, along with Will and Emmie, went to go get a cake while you, Santi, and Frankie made dinner. Dinner wasn’t fancy, mostly just warming up whatever you could find and hoping Emmie would eat it.

“We’re home!” Benny said happily, opening the door and holding up a cake. “I got cake!”

“And I’ve got dinner for Emmie,” Will said from behind Benny.

While Emmie at chicken nuggets and honey mustard, you and the boys ate tacos and cake. It was a messy dinner, but it filled your bellies and made you happy.

“Movie?” Benny asked hopefully once you’d packed up the leftovers.

You sighed, putting the pan in the sink to be washed later. “Yeah, sure. Go turn the TV on.”

Benny eagerly hopped over to the couch and sat down, turning the TV on and flicking through channels. When he found a decent movie, he let the channel sit as he watched.

The movie was a violent one, something you didn’t want Emmie to watch. She yawned as you carried her to the guest bedroom, which wasn’t fit for a two year old, but it would have to do for now. You tucked some pillows under the sheets to protect her from rolling out of the bed and set a box at the side so she could get down in the morning. With a kiss goodnight, she was out like a light.

“We good in here boys?” You asked, poking your head back into the living room. “Oh for god's sake, change the channel.”

“Why?” Benny asked. “I like this movie!”

You pointed to Frankie, who was gripping the armrest of the couch. “You’re gonna set him off.”

Frankie nodded his thanks, eyes wide and body stiff. Benny changed the channel to some cute animated movie you’d seen the trailer for but never bothered to watch the movie.

You hummed, sitting practically on top of Frankie. He never panicked during movies with live fire and violence anymore, but they still made him jittery.

“You okay?” Frankie asked softly, running his hands over your skin.

“I should be asking you that,” you pointed out, kissing the hairless patch on Frankie’s face. “Tomorrow will be better. We’ll take Emmie shopping.”

Frankie smiled. “Lord, we really are two complete messes.”

You snuggled closer into Frankie’s arms. “Messes shmesses. We’re together. Our pasts are being amended. One day, we might even be able to look back at how we are now and laugh.”

“Yeah, when Emmie’s in college.”

Smiling, you reached up and grabbed Frankie’s face, squishing his cheeks. “Even if we aren’t, if we’re still waking up at two AM with nightmares and spending our days comforting each other through panic attacks, I’ll still love you.”

Frankie grinned. “I’ll love you more.”

“Oh no you don’t,” you argued playfully. “I’ll love you more.”

“Nah, I definitely love you more.”

You heard gagging from the other side of the couch and turned to see Benny making a face. “Get a room!”

Frankie stuck his tongue out at Benny while you laughed. Santi and Will both whistled when Frankie scooped you up and carried you to bed.

Because of your ex, you and Frankie had never slept together. Bed sharing was difficult in the first months, and then cuddling was the next hurdle. You were finally comfortable enough to snuggle in the bed together, and when you reached the bedroom, Frankie plopped you on the bed and immediately snuggled up. Clothes still on, he gently rested a hand on your waist, murmuring soft words in your ears.

“I don’t think this is what Benny meant when he said get a room,” you said happily as Frankie peppered kisses across your collarbones.

“To hell with what Benny meant,” Frankie said. “You aren’t ready.”

It almost made you cry. “Thank you Frankie,” you said, a slight wobble to your voice. “Thank you.”

“You adjust your life for me,” Frankie reminded you. “I can adjust my life for you.”

That night, as you lay down to sleep, you stared at the ceiling, listening to Frankie’s low and rhythmic breathing. He was right. You had mindlessly adjusted for him, noticing what set him off and silently making changes so he didn’t have panic attacks on the daily. But he had done the same for you, changing his words and his mannerisms so he could be the best person for you, the person you needed. It was so seamless, the way you two molded to each other.

“Love you,” you whispered softly into the air, swirling around because of the fan Frankie needed on. Frankie, dead asleep, didn’t respond, but you didn’t mind. Rolling closer to Frankie, tucking yourself up and under his arm, you breathing in his late night smell. “Thank you.”

You knew, in the morning, he’d either wake up at three in tears or slowly in the sun. But either way, he would wake up to you, ready for his worst, and no matter what, he would be there for yours when it struck. You both had each other, no matter how dark life got. The monster you shared would always connect you.

#Triple Frontier #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Fifty-Seven) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary sibs. Dom/sub relationship. Mild edging. Impregnation kink. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, Hotch refers to them as female when saying “good girl”.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 8391

Timeline: A few days after part fifty-six.

Criminal Minds Discord Server

November 2nd. Aaron Christopher Hotchner’s birthday only came a few days after Halloween, which just meant more sugar for the kids. Between the cookies on Halloween and the birthday cake on Hotch’s birthday, those kids were spoiled rotten. Not that I ever complained. I loved celebrating Hotch’s birthday, as much as he hated it, and I loved dedicating the whole day to him—again, even though he hated it. He disliked the idea of celebrating himself. Not to mention that celebrating his birthday just made him think of his mother, who was horrible to him, and that would lead him to remember his father, who was even worse. That was why over the past couple of years, I had been trying to turn that day into his day, and not his parents’. It was okay for him to be selfish. Aaron really struggled with thinking highly of himself, or even thinking anything about himself. He preferred the idea of just spending his time and energy on me, the kids, and work. Between all of that, there was hardly any time for himself. On his birthday, however, it was all about him, and I was going to make him love his birthday one of these days.

However, my plans seemed to be canon-balled in the side by my parents. They surprised me and Hotch with a call shortly after Halloween to let us know that they had decided to get back together, and that they had moved in together again. When I asked when this happened, my mom said a couple of months ago. So… they had been keeping that from me all this time? Them and Hotch with the fucking secrets. I let it slide, though, considering I always knew that they still loved each other and that they only split up in the first place because of work, but now that was all in the past. Now, they could just be them. In fact, that was why my parents called in the first place. They asked if they could have the kids for the day, and when I tried to argue that it was Hotch’s birthday so we wanted the kids home with us, my mom interrupted with: “Oh, perfect! We’ll take the kids for the day, then you guys can come over for a birthday dinner!”

Ugh…

The thing about my mom was that she was never really… there… when Elle and I were growing up. Because she worked for the CIA, she was gone a lot, the same way that Hotch and I were away from Scar and Jack so much. With her traveling so much, she hardly settled to do “motherly” things like learning to cook. Elle and I loved her dearly, okay. We did. But her cooking was like eating acid. For Hotch’s birthday, I was imagining something a little more special than battery acid. Yet, I couldn’t talk them out of it.

Hotch had sing-songed in my ear, “We’ll have the whole house to ourselves for the day…” which made me ultimately give in. Then, when I hung up on them, he said, “Who knows, maybe the kids’ll like your parents.”

I groaned. “Who ever likes their grandparents?”

“Celia and Ken are good people, baby. They’re fun, and they love you and Elle more than anything in the world. I’m sure they’ll be good with the kids.”

I squinted at him. “Fine.”

My dad picked up the kids early in the morning since he spent the night working at the Academy anyhow. They lived about an hour away from our house, so by the time they were gone, we only had lunch, the afternoon, and about an hour of the evening before we had to leave. What was supposed to be a day of fucking in every reasonable room of the house turned into us just staring at our bedroom ceiling, counting the minutes until we had to get ready. I was dreading dinner. Not only was the drive going to be unbearably long, but dinner itself was going to be complicated.

There were a thousand things from my past that Hotch didn’t know about, and I would’ve kept it that way, but knowing my parents, they were going to unknowingly spill the beans, and I was going to have to explain a thousand things after the fact. Great. I mean, it wasn’t that I was actively keeping it all a secret from him. It just never came up. I was sure that there was stuff in his own past that he didn’t bring up because he couldn’t remember at the time or because there was no point in mentioning it. But my parents were the embarrassing type. I thought that by dating an older guy, and kind of rushing our relationship, we could skip that whole “embarrassing dinner with the parents” spiel, yet there we were. Hence, why I was staring at the ceiling with him all day rather than running around the house naked.

While in the car, Hotch and I were extremely handsy with one another. He was trying to focus on the road, but I kept messing with his hair, or playing with the wedding ring on his finger as we held hands; meanwhile, he was kneading my thigh every so often, or caressing my cheek with his thumb, or brushing my hair out of my face. I wanted my attention to be on him. The whole day was supposed to be dedicated to him, yet I couldn’t think straight. Going home after years and years of not being there was just making me appreciate how far I had come, and now my mind was racing with memories, good and bad.

I had the love of my life, the job I always wanted, and I had an amazing, beautiful, nuclear family. My stepson loved me as his own mother. My daughter was perfect in every way. Just as I always anticipated, she lit up a room just with her very presence, and it was most obvious whenever she was around Reid or Morgan. My best friends, and one of them was the godfather of my child. My life was perfect. Going home, however, was just a reminder of a time when things weren’t perfect. I didn’t need that bringing me down right now.

“What’s wrong?” Hotch asked me when he took notice of how quiet I was.

I glanced over at him and sighed. “I love them, my parents. You know I do.”

“I know.”

“But I just don’t want to do this…”

“It’s too late.”

Silence hung in the air for another minute as I returned to deep thinking about what they could possibly say in front of Hotch that could upset either of us.

“What are you thinking about now?” he spoke up again.

“The past.”

He raised a brow. “Care to share with the class?”

I smiled and shuffled to face him. “Well, I was just thinking about how different I used to be before I joined the BAU and met you, and before we started dating. Even when we first started going out, we were so different than how we are now.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” I rested my elbow on the arm rest between us and stared up at him. “I used to work a shitty desk job, only dreaming about being where I am today. I had no friends, I didn’t talk to my parents or my sister, I hated my job, I lived in a one bedroom apartment in the city, and I didn’t have anyone I loved or who loved me back. I was entirely alone. And then everything changed when I met Jason Gideon and I solved the Footpath Killer problem faster than anyone else. So, I joined the BAU, thinking ‘What have I got to lose?’. Joined the team, made a friend or two, reconnected with my sister, and met a guy who was… well… my boss. He wouldn't leave me alone unless I went with him to dinner.” I poked Hotch’s dimple lightly when he smiled in response to my joke.

We both knew that he hadn’t chased after me. He wanted to. He really, truly wanted to chase after me, but he kept his distance because he thought that it would protect me, spare the team confusion, and spare himself potential heartache. But, eventually, he budged, and he asked me out. And by budged, I mean that I forced his hand. But it was cute to think that he would’ve chased after me if things had been slightly different. Maybe if I didn’t join the BAU, the chase would’ve happened naturally. Or maybe we would’ve continued staring and smiling at each other from a distance and nothing would ever happen because we were both cowards who didn’t know how to jump headfirst into a real relationship since we had been hurt one too many times before.

“And I guess he was cute, and I guess he was sweet…” I leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “And I guess he was good in bed…”

Hotch turned quickly and pressed a kiss to my lips before I could pull away from him. I smiled and pushed him back. “Tease,” he muttered under his breath.

“Shh,” I insisted. “I’m telling a story.” I sat back in my seat, swinging my legs over the arm rest between us so that my feet were on his thigh.

“That’s dangerous,” he warned.

“I trust you. Now, my story.” I hummed to myself, thinking about where I left off. “I gave up my life for a better part of a year for him and our relationship. So, I'm starting to think that this maybe might work, and the second it entered my head, he starts lying to me—”

“I didn’t lie—”

“No? What would you call what you did in Cincinnati, then?” I raised a playful brow. Hotch didn’t respond. He only licked his teeth and fell silent again so that I could continue my story. “Anyhow, he starts lying to me, yet I can’t stop thinking to myself that he’s the one, that I love him more than anything, and I’d die without him.” Hotch tore one of his hands off the wheel so that he could run his thumb over the inside of my left ankle. “And I know that I love him the way he is— even when he thinks that lying to me is the right thing to do.” Hotch squeezed my calf lightly to warn me away from accusing him of lying again. “I wanted to tell him, ‘You don't have to always be there; you don't have to change your habits… Just love me. You don't have to put the seat down; you don't have to eat avocado toast; you don't have to change a thing— Just stay with me.’ So, I try to tell him, ‘I want you— nothing but you.’ Because you take me in your arms, and suddenly everything in my life makes sense. For a moment, I forget just how dark and cold the world can get. It feels like my life led right to your side and will keep me there from now on.” I leaned forward again, pressing my palm against his cheek. He continued to watch the road, though I knew he was desperate to look at me, too. “Now I wanna hold you close— I don't ever wanna have to let you go. I don't wanna go back to the lonely life. Can we do that?”

Hotch moved to kiss my palm. “Of course.”

“Listen, when we get to my house, take a look at that town, take a look at how far I've come. I will never go back, never look back anymore. Everything bad that happened in my life stems from that place. I was missing what was perfect in my life—you and our family—but now I have you, and I never, ever want to let that go. Does that make sense?”

Hotch shrugged.

I brushed his hair back out of his face. I needed him to understand exactly what I meant, so I had to put it into terms that he could understand. “Just think about what you wanted. Think about what could be. Think about how I love you. Think of what's great about me and you. Think of the bullshit we've both been through. Think about how we’ve come so far together, and how we’ve overcome every single obstacle, no matter how tough they seemed at times. That’s not by chance, Aaron.” I gently curled my fingers around a fistful of his hair. “That’s effort that my parents never put in. That’s learning from our experiences—learning from where we came from and choosing to be better. Going back to my hometown and seeing my old life is like taking steps back on Candyland—” He chuckled at my simile. “I’m serious!” He shook off his laugh as we turned into my neighborhood and he started looking at the house numbers to figure out which one was mine. “You can’t let me stay here,” I said once I saw it at the end of the cul-de-sac. “Please, Aaron.”

“You’re being a little overdramatic, baby girl.”

“Just wait.”

I knew that once he would spend the evening with my parents, learning about my past and how spoiled and annoying I was as a kid, he would understand what I meant. I never thought in a million years I would be back there. I never thought that my parents would somehow manage to convince me to come back. Yet, as Hotch pulled into the driveway, I realized just how fucked this was.

“Mom! Dad!”

I looked over my shoulder and out my window to see Jack and Scarlet running out of the house, speeding onto the front lawn, and dashing towards our car. I smiled lightly. At least I had them. My little man and my lil’ bug. They made this trip worth it, and the upcoming dinner was going to be unbearable, but I could just hold Scarlet in my arms if I ever got upset or bored, and I would feel at home again.

Did Hotch realize how grateful I was? I mean, to be honest, I did most of the work, but the beginning was a team effort… if you catch my drift. I was so thankful that he gave me my lil’ bug Scarlet, and that he looked after us shortly after she was born, and that he was so hands on with her. I mean, he was close with Jack. He dedicated everything to his son when he was born, and even more so after Haley’s death; but Hotch was vastly different with Scarlet. With Jack, there was a level of protection that he had because of Foyet; because he didn’t want Jack to experience anything traumatic ever again. On the other hand, Scarlet hadn’t been through anything yet, and Hotch was working tirelessly to make sure it stayed that way. I would say that Scarlet was a daddy’s girl, too, which only encouraged Hotch to coddle her. I didn’t care anymore. It used to irk me that he was too overbearing with her, but since our lives had continued to turn upside down because of work, I actually appreciated Hotch’s caution with our daughter. Jack had been hurt once before, and between Hotch and I, we had been hurt over a hundred times—if I were being generous. At the very least, as her parents, we could protect Scarlet from ever enduring what the three of us had.

I swung my feet off of Hotch’s thighs so that we could both get out of the car. As I opened my door, Jack immediately jumped up, his arms sprawled so that I could catch him. I laughed as I barely made it on time. “Oh, boy!” I groaned while standing and hugging him tightly.

He was too big now to lift, and it pissed me off, but what was I supposed to do? Hurt my back more just to try to pick him up? No… As much as I missed holding him on my hip and hugging him so tight that neither of us could breathe, trying to lift him now would have been futile and simply hurtful for the two of us.

“Daddy!” Scarlet cheered as she jumped into Hotch’s arms. Like I said, daddy’s girl.

He kissed her cheeks over and over again until she pushed him away because it tickled too much. “How was your day, Ms. Scarlet?”

She poked at his cheekbones. “Good. Grandpa and Grandma played soccer with us.”

“Did you win?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not true!” Jack argued. “I won!”

I kissed his hair. “I’m sure you did, little man.”

“How was the drive?” Dad asked as he and Mom came to meet us outside, too. Hotch and I turned to face them. We told them that it was long, but nice. “Did ya work up an appetite?”

“Dad—”

“You know it,” Hotch answered over me, sending me a quick glance that begged that I would be polite.

“Good. Good.” Dad patted Hotch on the back before ushering us inside. “Celia’s been cooking up a storm all day. Hope you like steak.”

“Nothing sounds better.”

----

Dinner was ready almost immediately. The family gathered in the dining room, the kids at the end so that they could draw in a coloring book that Scarlet brought with her while the adults talked on the other end. Hotch and I sat side by side, my parents across from us. This was the first time we had a chance to talk with my parents since the wedding nearly three years ago. Not that the distance was on purpose. It was just that we never had the chance to sit down like this ever. The first time they met Hotch was practically just after he proposed, but then we were called away to work. It happened like that every time. Our jobs called us out to different states all the time, my mom’s job called her out to different countries, and my dad’s job required him to be at the Academy practically 24/7. It was a miracle that we could get all four of us in the same room for Hotch’s birthday.

Not that I necessarily saw it as a miracle. Considering we had never done this before, like I said, so therefore, Hotch never really got to know them, and vice versa. What were we supposed to do if they ended up hating them? I knew I was bitching about this all day, but that was only because I was nervous. If this went awry, I wouldn’t be able to choose between my parents and my husband. I knew what my decision would be, but that was heartbreaking to even consider.

Hotch put a hand on my knee to stop it from bouncing anxiously. My attention snapped to him to see that he was sending me a look that asked if I was alright or if I needed a break. I sent him a look that said I was alright. I was just thinking… Again…

Dad cut through his slice of birthday cake that Mom made for after dinner while talking with Hotch about Cody, the Director of the FBI. For dinner, my mom made steak—which was edible—and mashed potatoes and green beans, which were there. She tried her best. Dessert was probably the best part. Hotch didn’t exactly like anything “unhealthy” since he liked to stay so fit for the field; but I made him try some of the cake on my plate, and once he did, he was convinced into having a slice of his own.

“Have you been in contact with anyone from your high school?” Mom asked me. “I heard there was some kind of class reunion a month or so ago.”

I chuckled behind my cup. “Who would I be in contact with?” I took a sip.

“I don’t know… Oh— What about Steven Teller?”

I nearly spat my drink out. “What—”

“You know! Steven!” Mom hit Dad’s shoulder, “Where did he end up going for college?”

Dad started thinking. “Hmm… Wasn’t it… Tulane?” He snapped in eureka. “Yes! That was it! Tulane. His dad told me after he graduated that he got a job working for some prestigious law firm.” My dad pointed at me, “You must have a thing for lawyers.”

Hotch leaned to the side, pulling me towards him somewhat. “Steven Teller? Isn’t that—”

I stopped him with a glare. When he fell silent, we both sat back up straight in our seats. I looked at my parents. “No, I haven’t talked to Steven. I haven’t talked to anyone. And, honestly, I don’t want to.”

“What about Tess—"

I cleared my throat. “It’s getting kind of late,” I said, checking my watch. “I want to show Aaron around before we leave. You know, brag about some old memories and stuff.”

My parents took note of the change in tone in my voice, and the way the room suddenly grew uncomfortable. They recognized that they touched some kind of nerve. They fucked up, though they weren’t sure how, and they weren’t going to pry or stop me from talking to Hotch about it all privately—which was clearly what I wanted to do. So, they let us go.

I grabbed Hotch’s hand and started pulling him towards the stairs. He hurried after me, trying to keep up with how fast I was leading him along, and even trying to tug back on me to get me to slow down, but I didn’t. We skipped up the steps and hurried down to the last room on the left. My bedroom. It hadn’t been touched or bothered since high school. It was so weird. It was like some kind of time capsule that should’ve been burned down years ago. This wasn’t who I was anymore. I had grown up so much since leaving home. Like I told Hotch, I left this place and I never looked back, and I was fine with how my life turned out. I just didn’t think my parents would keep mine and Elle’s rooms untouched like this— like they were shrines of a better past or something.

“Steven Teller. I know that name,” Hotch said, closing the door behind me. “It’s been churning in my head for six years, Y/N. How do your parents not know?”

“I’ve told you before, I didn’t tell anyone. And I’ve also told you before that I would’ve never told you or Elle if the Fisher King hadn’t let the cat out of the bag. He took pictures of it, Aaron, and then he used them to black mail me. How could I tell people that? I got those pictures back, I hid them away, and I left this place for as long as I could.”

Hotch stepped closer to me. He put his hands on my biceps and sighed. “I’d kill him if I could.”

George Foyet and the Hawai’i gang had seen up close and person how far Hotch was willing to go to get revenge on those who hurt his family. If Steven Teller were there in front of us, I had no doubts in my mind that Hotch would’ve been willing to get locked up just for the sake of putting him six feet underground.

“Remember, I told you to take a look at how far I’ve come. I told you to remember that this isn’t who I am anymore— that none of this matters to me now. What matters is being in your arms. Being with you helps me forget.” I reached up to hold his face in my hands. “It was so long ago. Aaron, I need you to believe me when I tell you that it doesn’t matter. I mean— I— It does matter… But I don’t let it define me. I don’t let it distract me from what makes me happy. You, Jack, and Scarlet make me happy. That’s all that matters. I don’t care about him. I don’t think about him. Every bad memory I have of him has been forgotten and replaced by my happy memories of you.”

Hotch wrapped his arms around my waist and he lifted me up slightly so that my toes were barely tangling over the carpet, but my face was even with his. He kissed me. After a moment, he set me back down on my feet and he let go of me.

“So, what was Y/N Greenaway into when they were in high school?” His change of topic caught me off guard, but I appreciated it. He knew that I didn’t want to talk about this because, to me, it didn’t fucking matter. And if it didn’t matter to me, it didn’t matter to him. What mattered was that I promised to show him around. He was in my old bedroom, and he wanted to finally get to know everything I never told him. “You have any fun stories to tell me about all of this?” he teased while spinning around to get a look at everything around him. He stopped when he noticed my box of vinyls. “If there isn’t a single good record in here, I’m leaving.”

I snickered. “Well, your definition of good music is definitely older than mine.”

He grinned at me while running a finger over the titles. “Are you calling me old right now?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m only one year older now, not ten.”

“Still old.”

He picked out one of the records. “Brat.” He admired the cover of A Night at the Opera by Queen. “So, this is where your love for Queen began. Who’s old now?”

“That record’s older than me.”

“So, you like old things, then. Who would’ve known?” he questioned sarcastically. I rolled my eyes and sat down on the bed. “Oh,” Hotch smiled to himself, “look what we have here.”

I watched as he reached for something at the bottom of my bookshelf. I cocked a brow, figuring that he was just grabbing an old kiddie book that we could take home for Scarlet, but what I saw in his hands when he turned around absolutely mortified me. “No—” I insisted quickly, pushing myself to my knees on the mattress. “Aaron Hotchner, you put that back!”

Hotch’s wicked smile brightened as he meandered over to the bed, flipping the book open to the front page. “I always wondered when I’d get the chance to see this.”

“Aaron—” I reached out, trying to swipe the book from him, but he caught my wrist and held me steady. “I swear—”

“Behave yourself,” he narrowed his eyes, still smiling, though. He released my hand, allowing me to sit back down obediently. As he turned to the next page, he sat down next to me so that I could watch what he was doing. “Do you remember how we went through my old yearbook the night you first told me you love me?” I was going to kill him, I swear. He had to know that I would do it, and I knew how to get away with it. “And you told me that I would never, ever get to see your yearbooks.” With that snide, calculated comment that was supposed to tease me, I tried to grab the book from him again, though I knew I shouldn’t have. “Look at you, you were adorable!” I tried again. “If you don’t stop that, I will tie you to the headboard.”

“I wasn’t adorable,” I told him as I gave up trying to take the yearbook away from him. “I was nerdy and dorky. Elle was always the cool one. She knew how to play the system so that she could be popular, meanwhile, I was just focused on getting to the Academy.”

“Sounds like a fun childhood,” he teased with sarcasm hiding behind his words.

“Hey!” I punched his arm lightly. “I had fun!”

“Mhm,” he nodded sarcastically. “Was that between studying and playing D&D, or was that after you volunteered at the senior center?” He pointed to all the different pictures of me on the community service pages. 

“I’ll have you know,” I grinned, recalling a memory that would definitely get under his skin, “that it happened after the homecoming game junior year.”

He looked up at me with wide, shocked, yet still angry eyes, just as I predicted. “Please tell me it wasn’t in his car, at least.”

“Her bedroom,” I corrected. “She lived just a block away from the school, so we snuck out of the game and walked to her place. Elle never even knew I was gone.”

Hotch’s eyes dilated slightly as his mind raced with every possibility of what happened that night. “And what about your room?” he asked while looking around in order to avoid eye contact with me so that he was harder to profile.

“Her birthday the following week,” I answered, now using the same kind of smirk that he had plastered to his face only moments ago. He thought that he could get to me by looking through the yearbook and stirring up old memories, but what he failed to recognize was that I would do anything to get the upper hand on this situation again.

Hotch cleared his throat as he turned another page of the yearbook. “Oh, look!” He was trying to change the subject again, despite how obvious it was that he was thinking about what happened on that bed in high school. “It’s a picture of you and Elle.” He turned the book slightly towards me again, but I didn’t look down at it.

I leaned against him, shifting around on my knees as I got closer. When my hand brushed against his pants, Hotch cleared his throat again and nearly slammed the book shut, yet he still managed to somehow hold together his composure. “You know,” I whispered into his ear, “birthday sex is a lot of fun.”

“Was this your move in high school?” he asked me with a raspy, breathless tone.

I knew I got him, now it was just a matter of breaking him. “No.” I shook my head. “This was.” I grabbed the book, knowing that he wasn’t paying attention to it anymore, and I threw it to the floor. His hands were desperate to hold onto something now, so they immediately found my hips as I straddled him. “And then it went a little something like this…” I whispered in his ear as I started slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

“Your parents are downstairs,” he whispered back.

“Just like high school.” I smiled.

He laughed as he leaned in to kiss me. “You would have been bad news for me back in high school, Y/N.”

“I’m still bad news for you.” I finally got his shirt open and I quickly pushed it off his arms. His arms snaked around my waist once they were free of his blue silk shirt. “You remember Valentine’s?” He nodded before pulling me in for another kiss. I pushed him away. “Round two?”

He shook his head. “I just want you. Please.”

“Whatever the birthday boy wants…”

Hotch moaned as I lowered my hips, grinding my panties against his trousers. When he was least expecting it, I parted from our endless kisses and pushed a hand to his chest with enough force to give him the idea that he should lay back on the width of the bed. Hotch listened, his arms falling from hugging me to grabbing my hips as he laid back calmly. He stared up at me with his brown eyes dilated that were turning pure black with lust. He licked his lips, trying to forget about how nice it was to kiss me and how he wanted to do it again.

I used my hand on his chest to balance myself as I dragged my hips up towards his chest slowly, feeling the outline of his erection passing over my covered slit. As I pushed myself back down, I felt his tip hit my clit, both of us letting out an unexpected moan in response.

When I realized what happened, I put my other hand over his mouth. “You have to be quiet,” I whispered, moving my hips forwards and backwards against him. He groaned against my hand, the vibrations of his pleasure running through my hand before coursing through the rest of my body.

“Fuck me,” he begged against my hand.

I sat up entirely, moving down his thighs somewhat so that I could fidget with his pants. He groaned quietly every time my fingers accidentally passed over his throbbing length as I struggled to get his pants off as fast as possible. I wanted him just as badly as he wanted me, and there was only so much time we had before my parents or Jack would come looking for us. All I knew was that I wanted to fuck him and call him mine for his birthday.

We worked together to discard the rest of our clothes. While I fidgeted with his pants, his hands crumbled up the skirt of my dress, and he made a move to lift it over my head, but while he was still laying under me, he couldn’t make the aggressive move he wanted. So, he had to wait. I pulled his belt out of all of the loops, then tossed it to the side. Without hesitation, I undid his pants, my palms brushing over his erection so often he was moaning and bucking. I lifted my hips so that I could push down his pants and underwear to his ankles, and when I sat back down, I made sure that I was right over his erection.

“Baby, please. Your dress.” He tugged at the skirt of it lightly. I nodded, raising my arms over my head. He whimpered a “thank you” and sat up slightly so that he could pull my dress off my body entirely, and afterwards, he unclasped my bra with expertise. “So precious, baby girl…” he exhaled through his nose lightly before kissing my bra strap. As my fingers tangled themselves in his hair and pulled, Hotch’s cold fingers slowly started pushing my bra straps off my shoulders. The more my bra fell, the more he kissed my bare body, making his way down to my nipples. “I love you,” he whispered to me as my bra fell to the floor and he wrapped his lips around my left nipple.

I moaned, throwing my head back. “I love you, too.”

He released my left nipple and slowly went to suck on the other one, making my stomach twist in pleasure. While he was preoccupied and I was desperate for him, I reached between us so that I could take his length in my hand. He hissed quietly. When I bucked my hips up slightly, running my clothed slit up every inch of him, I felt him twitch in my hand with excitement. He wanted me, of course. I wanted him, too, but this was all about pleasing him. I was going to take my time making sure that he was served and happy.

Hotch nibbled on my nipple gently when I ran my thumb over his tip. I heard him whimper a few quiet times. So, I did it again. He released my nipple so that he could moan into my chest. I smirked and did it again.

“Baby, please—” he gasped breathlessly. “Just fuck me. Please.”

“You wanna cum for me?” I asked him before kissing his hair.

He nodded. “Yes. Please. Fuck—”

As I lifted my hips, Hotch reached between us to push my panties to the side. “Do you want to cum in me?” I teased his tip at my entrance.

“Baby girl, I want to fill you so bad…” He tried pushing my hips down, but I held steady. “You—” He gasped against my shoulder as I rolled my hips slightly. “You promised— For my—For my birthday—”

“I know, baby,” I whispered. “I know.” I just loved hearing his pleas and whimpers too much to not pry them out of him. But now that he had given himself to me and his whimpers blessed my ears, I could finally give in for him. “I’m sorry.” I started lowering myself onto every inch of him. We both let out quiet moans that filled the room. Hotch wrapped his arms around my entire body, pressing my chest against his. “I love you.”

“I love you—” He groaned and threw his head back as I settled at the base of his cock. “You treat me so well, baby girl. Thank you.”

“Shhh…” I cooed. “Fuck…”

As I started rolling my hips around him and slowly moving up and down his length, I felt myself get more worked up, encouraging me to only go faster and harder. We held each other close as I did so. He was so hard, every inch of him was throbbing inside of me, hitting exactly where I needed him most. But then there was the added stimulation of my clit grinding on his pubic bone. It made me melt.

“I fucking love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

Slowly, but surely, my back started to tense up. The muscle that had been injured the worst during the bank explosion over a year ago was starting to act up again, which wasn’t unusual in these cases. For the most part, I was healed since then, to the point that I could participate in cases in the field without issue, and Hotch and I could have intense scenes with only minimal aches. But from time to time, I would feel it to the point that it felt like my back was screaming at me: “Please, do anything else but this!” So, I gave in. I listened to the way my body was angry at me, and I tried to shift around somewhat to calm down, but it wasn’t working.

“You okay?” Hotch asked after noticing how my pace had slowed.

I nodded slightly before cringing again. “My back…” I finally admitted. This was the worst fucking time for it to hurt. “I’m sorry, baby.”

He shook his head and sat up. “Don’t be.” He hugged me and stood, giving me time to wrap my legs around his waist. We moaned into each other’s mouths in response to the way he moved inside of me. He turned around and started carefully laying me on the bed with him still buried inside me.

“That’s a talent,” I mumbled against his lips. He chuckled. “I like being under you better, anyhow.”

Hotch leaned up to stop me from continuing my endless string of kisses. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

I nodded and bucked my hips up to encourage him. Hotch caught the hint, so he planted his feet on the ground and slowly started pulling his length out of me. When his tip was all I had inside of me, we kissed, then he thrust into me with a little more power. I moaned loudly. Hotch quickly put his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. I pressed a kiss against his palm to let him know that I understood that I had to be quiet, but he didn’t release me because now he was on top, and my mild bratty attitude hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. He was in Dom space now. I could see it in his eyes. Melting in with the lust and love that filled his dark eyes was a red tint that screamed: “You’re mine.” And I loved it. I loved it and I let that tint put me in my place.

He snapped his hips back and forth again a few more times. With every thrust that passed, he increased his speed and power to the point that I was a moaning mess under his hand. Everything was so muffled, but he understood that I would’ve been screaming for him if I could. I loved him. I loved how he fit in me perfectly—that it didn’t matter that we had been together nearly six years because I was still so tight for him and only him. I was his. He was mine. We were us, and that was what mattered. Being back at home, reliving a few bad memories, talking about some people I would’ve rather forget about, none of that mattered while he was towering over me.

He leaned in close and let out a shuddered breath in my ear because he was close to moaning loudly, too. “I’m gonna cum,” he warned. I nodded against his hand, letting him know that I was close, too. “Fuck…” He started attacking my neck with his lips, leaving a mild hickey that hopefully wouldn’t start forming until we were gone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” There was his tell. “Y/N—” Before he could say anything else, my walls tightened around him as I tipped over the edge, encouraging him to cum, too. “Fuck!” he hissed against my skin.

“Sir,” I moaned against his hand. I bucked my hips to make sure both of us worked out our entire orgasms before slowing down and giving up. “Shit…” I slumped back, my body going limp.

He slowly pulled out of me and removed his hand from my mouth. “You okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Your back?”

“I’m okay, baby, I promise.” I patted his chest. “Happy birthday, my love.”

“Thank you.” He sat up by pushing his hands on my hips, then he let go of me so that he could pull his pants up. “I don’t think we can use a towel…” he joked.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Ha. Ha.”

“Where the fuck did you throw my shirt?” he questioned while spinning in a circle to try and spot it. I giggled and reached over my head to retrieve it from the floor. I threw it at his face. “Brat,” he hissed after catching it. I smirked.

Hotch held his hand out for me, and when I took it, he carefully helped me up, keeping his eye on me to make sure that I wouldn’t break. I was still a bit sore, but it was manageable. I figured that since he was right about the towel thing, I’d have to make my way to the bathroom down the hall, and I would just grab a Motrin or something there, too.

After Hotch slid his arms back through his dark dress shirt, he moved to start buttoning it up, but I beat him to it by shooing his hands away and grabbing ahold of the hem of his shirt. As I reached the top button, my pinkie passed over the purple mark I made on his neck that was getting more and more obvious as the seconds flew by. I blushed and looked away. Hotch chuckled and lifted my chin by trapping it between his thumb and his curled index finger. My gaze met his again.

“Are you shy, baby?”

I nodded. He grinned and gripped my jaw hard. I gulped before biting my lip and feeling the way my legs gave out somewhat.

“Why, though? Weren’t you the one to mark Sir?”

I whimpered. “Yes, Sir.”

He brought me close to his lips, then lingered for a second, as if he were daring me to act out by kissing him quickly, but I obeyed by waiting. Maybe five years ago I would have given in, but now… with my parents and the kids downstairs… There wasn’t really any time, and our priorities were different. So, I waited for him to kiss me first. He smirked at my compliance, then slowly leaned in to press his lips against mine, barely even touching me at all before he pulled away.

“We should head home,” he whispered.

I whimpered. “I hate you…”

He grabbed my jaw harder. “Go clean yourself up.” He kissed me again, this time a little more passionately, then he turned to walk out and start wrangling the kids downstairs.

I let out a shaky breath as the room fell silent again. That was certainly one way to celebrate…

Once I cleaned myself up in the bathroom, downed a pain killer, then got dressed, I headed downstairs to see Hotch holding a passed out Scarlet in his arms. She was resting her chin on his shoulder while sucking on her thumb—a habit I thought we kicked about six months ago. Jack, on the other hand, was sitting on the floor in the living room while playing with Red and some of his other favorite toys. As I passed him, I kissed the top of his head. I asked if he was ready to go yet, and he nodded. I could tell that he was getting tired, and I knew that by the time we had him and Scar loaded up in the car, the two of them would be dead asleep for the whole drive home.

“Alright,” I began wrapping up the conversation Hotch was having with my parents, “I think it’s time to get them home.” Hotch agreed shortly before my parents gave in. “Thank you, guys, for looking after them today.”

“They were perfect,” my dad said.

“We’d love to have them back soon,” my mom added.

Please, no, I thought to myself, even though I was smiling and conceding. Hotch stood with Scarlet in his arms, and I kissed her temple while petting her hair. It was a miracle she lasted this long. I honestly thought that she was either going to pass out before dessert, or that dessert was going to give her a sugar high that would keep her up for the rest of the night. However, I had not anticipated that she would eat dessert and still be exhausted. I guess we got lucky.

“Oh, wait, I almost forgot!” Mom jumped to her feet and ran to the kitchen to grab something. I prayed that it wasn’t leftovers. When she returned, she was holding a wrapped gift in her hands. “Ken and I got this for you, Aaron.” She held it out for him.

Since his hands were full, he couldn’t necessarily accept it, so I offered to take Scarlet from him carefully to make sure that she wouldn’t wake up. When his hands were free, he took the gift. I watched as he eyed me for a second before starting to unwrap it.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” he insisted politely. My mom and dad shook their heads like it was no big deal. As the wrapping fell apart, he found a black leather box in his hands. He found the zipper on the side and pulled it open. Hotch chuckled to himself. “You guys seriously didn’t have to do this.”

I peeked over his shoulder to see what it was that they got for him. It was a fancy travel-size shaving kit. It had an electric shaver, with the charging chord, it had a handheld shaver in case there was no plug-in sight, it had a full tube of shaving cream, moisturizer, aftershave, and so on. It was completely unnecessary. Like, ostentatious for no fucking reason. I almost wanted to chuckle, but it would’ve been rude, so I bit my lip and held back the urge.

“We know what it’s like to have to travel all the time for your job, so we just wanted to make sure you had a way to make sure that beard of yours never grows back,” my dad joked.

I finally let out a chuckle. “I miss the beard.”

“I don’t,” Hotch said, smiling. “Thank you both,” he said to them while zipping up the kit. “It means a lot.”

“Can we go home now?” Jack questioned, slowly stumbling into the room, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

“Yeah, buddy. You wanna say goodnight to Grandma and Grandpa?”

Jack shuffled another few steps towards my parents, and he hugged their hips lightly. After they hugged him back, he meandered towards his dad who kneeled down to let Jack crawl onto his back to carry him the same way JJ liked to carry Henry. Jack slumped against Hotch. He flung his arms around his dad’s neck and trapped his legs around his waist. When he was steady, Hotch stood up straight.

“Seriously, thank you both for tonight. We had a lovely time,” Hotch said to my parents.

“We’ll call you guys in a couple of days to see if you want to do this again,” I offered. Scarlet started fussing in my arms. “Okay, okay, we’re going.” Hotch and I slowly started making our way to the front door. Dad skipped around us so that he could hold the door open for us since we were a little pre-occupied. “I love you,” I said while passing him and kissing his cheek. He kissed mine, too.

“Drive safe,” he begged.

“We will.”

Hotch headed down the front steps, then turned to make sure I could navigate them safely while not being able to see around Scarlet. When I made it down, we walked side by side to the car. Since Scarlet was certainly smaller than Jack, I was able to balance her in one arm long enough to open the backseat to put her down and buckle her in quietly, then run around to the other side to help Hotch get Jack in since he passed out on our way to the car, too. When they were settled, I chuckled. They were still so young and innocent. I almost envied their ability to fall asleep so quickly and in such uncomfortable positions.

Hotch sighed and snaked his arms around my waist. “I love you.”

I rested my head back on his shoulder. “I love you, too.” I slowly spun around. “Happy birthday, baby.”

He kissed me. “Probably my best birthday yet.”

“Suck up.”

“I try.” He kissed me again until we both melted and smiled against each other’s lips.

-----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999​ @gorgeousdarkangel​ @alex--awesome--22​ @oceaneblu​​ @brithedemonspawn​​ @absolutemarveltrash​​ @bshelley322​​ @rousethemouse​ @sunshinepower17​ @weexinling​​ @pettttyyyc​​ @Braty-angel  @braxdix

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner smut

[redhoodieone]

Wrong Number Part 2

A/N: Here’s Part 2! Uh…I don’t really know what to say other than…enjoy it! Hopefully, I can post Part 3 sometime next week.

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, Text Message Nudes, and Mutual Masturbation.

I’m in complete shock. I know I’m frozen because I can’t literally take my eyes off the text message Jason sent to me. It’s clear; it’s in black and white, staring right at me.

Do you ever think we’ll meet each other?

He wants to meet me. Jason wants to meet me in person!

I want to text him back, but my mind is full of many ridiculous questions and the fears of Jason being a serial killer, or rapist, or just an insane Arkham escapee blows up in my head.

Before I knew it, I see the three bubbles on my screen.

I’m sorry. That was selfish of me to ask you that even though we’re still practically strangers to each other. Forget I asked, please?

My heart suddenly hurts like fuck. The pain I’m instantly feeling is very familiar. A broken heart?

It’s pure agony when I notice Jason texting me again.

I’m not going to be able to text tonight, sweetheart. I’m working late with my brothers. I’ll text you tomorrow. Have a good night. Sweet dreams.

I can’t believe I did this. How could I do this to a guy who’s been so funny, so sweet, and such a good friend in only just four days through text messages?

I seriously fucked up. And now I have no one to talk to until I fall asleep.

And as strange as it is, I only sleep well after I talk to him.

 ————————————————————————------------------------------

And true to his word, Jason texts me at five in the morning, only to let me know he made it home safe after working with his brothers.

We only spoke about our jobs once. He told me he works alongside police officers and tracks down criminals and helps brings justice to the city. He seemed almost hesitant to tell me and turned the conversation to me as if he doesn’t like talking about work. He made it clear that he would rather keep his work private, and I didn’t push him to tell me more. I didn’t want to ask a lot of questions, even if I’m sometimes curious about it, because I wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable about it.

I had told him I’m a waitress at the local diner just a block away from GCPD, and how I’m a late-night writer who dreams of publishing my novel on love and loss. And after I confessed about the book I wrote to Jason, I noticed he was very enthusiastic about that and even told me he wants to read it.

And as the shy and insecure person that I am, I became embarrassed and said no.

That only fueled the fire between us. Jason went on to explain he loves to read. His favorite literature consists of Shakespeare (particularly Hamlet), George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal Farm, and even poetry from Edgar Allen Poe.

He even went into depth of how The Tell-Tale Heart mirrors his own reflection of life and stuck with him during a depressing time in his life.

It wasn’t until after we shared our love for literature that I found myself falling for Jason. As ridiculous and insane as that sounds, I couldn’t help but feel as if he’s the missing piece in my life.

It’s as if he’s the words to my story.

Important, but very valuable to a writer.

I was basically on a high that had me grinning like an idiot, giggling like a moron, and jumping in my seat as my stomach twists and turns like a roller coaster, when Jason refused to take no for an answer after I said he couldn’t read my novel. He even said his dad has connections to businesses in Gotham and could even help me get it published.

As much as I would want that, I couldn’t help but feel that it seems too good to be true. What if his dad took my novel and publish it as his own? What if I get cheated out of a contract and didn’t get paid fairly like I should? What if it’s basically a soul-sucking scam to just fuck my entire life up?

Jason must have sensed my hesitation after that, because he then began to tell me about his brothers.

How his older brother Dick still treats him like a kid, even though Jason is taller and stronger than him.

How his younger brother Tim is a computer nerd and often geeks out over the oddest things.

And how his youngest brother Damian is really a demon spawn, who tries to be tough shit, but is really a soft teddy bear.

He even has a sassy but wise butler, Alfred, who frightens him and sometimes reminds him of Vito Corleone from The Godfather. But the older man loves Jason as much as his dad, Bruce.

The stories about Jason’s family are the best. I always find myself excited to see what he texts me about his family.

How he and his brothers fight over their dad’s car, how they wrestle and spar to see who’s the strongest one, and how whenever one’s in trouble, the other three are already finding ways to save or bail the troubled one out.

It all makes me feel good to know they’re a close family. Especially when my cold, harsh reality reminds me I don’t have a family.

My parents died when I was just fifteen years old. I was in the school library alone during afterhours; reading on a beanbag chair because I didn’t want to go home. At that particular time, my parents were hanging around a different crowd. A crowd that was into drugs and gambling, and possibly other illegal activities I don’t even know about.

So, I chose to stay in the school library that night, sitting in my favorite beanbag chair the librarian allows me to use, reading a favorite horror book, munching away on a hot pocket (a snack also from the librarian), and just enjoy the silence but comfortable environment I would call home.

Then I was told they died in a car accident, but after eavesdropping on Commissioner Gordon and the other cops, I heard there could have been a hit on them.

The car accident happened only a block away from our apartment.

The brakes were cut.

The car was burning too much oil.

The airbags were taken out.

Many noticeable factors couldn’t pinpoint the real crime. Eventually, they just called it a “car accident”, and everything fishy about the case was ignored and never brought up again.

I suffered and struggled a lot in foster homes until I turned 18. I didn’t have any other family members to get into contact with, so I had to make do with the foster care system. After being shipped to three unstable and cruel homes, the last family only dealt with me until I turned 18 and I was soon kicked out. I did get lucky enough to get a job at the diner I’m working at since the new manager needed a pretty young girl to serve the customers.

I even went to Gotham Community College for a year but dropped out when I couldn’t pass any math and science classes.

It was fucking hard.

Science was confusing as hell.

Math was just evil and useless.

I hated those classes so much.

I only passed my English classes because reading and writing only made sense to me.

I even took a creative writing class and poetry class only to discover I want to write.

I want to be a writer.

So, I dropped out of college and decided to work full time at the diner as a waitress. Since no one wants to live and work in Gotham, I’m lucky enough to work morning and night without any issues. As dangerous and scary Gotham can be, I have nowhere else to go, so that’s why I stay here.

Maybe that’s why I’m eager to meet Jason. After everything I’ve been through, maybe I do need a little unpredictability.

Chances.

Risks.

The more I consider meeting Jason, the more I can imagine him being my family.

Or being a part of his.

Maybe.

 ————————————————————————--------------------------------

“You’re not going to meet him, right???” Stacey raises her voice at me in sheer annoyance and panic. She crosses her arms and glares at me to answer her. “Right, Y/N???”

I sigh as softly as I can while wiping down the booths and tables for the night. In the midst of a battle, I find myself growling with irritation when I can’t wipe away the sticky maple syrup spills on the hard surface.

“He could be a fat, old man who picks up on teenage girls! He’s probably some 40-year-old loser who still lives on his mom’s basement playing Street Fighter with kids! What if he tricks you into meeting up in a hotel room and has his way with you? Then what, Y/N?! Does that sound like a good idea to you?!” Stacey snaps.

I exhale deeply and stand up straight; after leaning over the table to reach the opposite side for some time. Turning around, I face Stacey Patterson, a tall, petite, pretty blonde, fresh face girl straight out of high school. She’s a waitress like me, and after only working here for a year, we’ve become close friends; always looking after each other in dangerous Gotham City.

“I didn’t say I was going to meet him, Stacey. We’re just talking about it,” I answer timidly.

Despite being five years older than Stacey, she still intimidates the hell out of me. Whether it’s her 5’11 height, loud voice, or natural evil glare, I can never speak up or defend myself. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t take a stand.

Because what if I actually piss her off? What if she stops being my friend?

Because I don’t think I could live in Gotham and not have any friends and not know anyone.

Stacey is like my best friend, and her friends Amber and Holly hang out in our group. Stacey even says they’re my friends, too, even though I clearly know they only put up with me because of her.

And if Amber and Holly aren’t my friends, then I’ll just have Stacey. And if I don’t have Stacey, I’ll only have Jason.

And who knows if Jason is who he says he is, and if he’s even real.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N! You’re totally thinking about Jason! You’re thinking about meeting up with him because I could see it in your eyes!” Stacey declares. She waves her arms around to emphasize her point. “You like this guy! You have feelings for a guy you’ve never even met!”

“That is not true,” I argue weakly.

“Yes, it is! And we don’t even know if it’s a guy!”

“Jason is a guy, and I can tell!”

“Oh, really? How? Do tell.”

I stare at Stacey with a serious expression, except my cheeks are burning with embarrassment as usual. “He...comes off like a guy. I know he is. I can tell through his text messages,” I say.

“Anybody can sound like anyone through text messages. That’s how people catfish victims online!” Stacey argues.

“I’m a writer, Stacey. I just...have a feeling, okay? I know Jason says who he is, and I believe him,” I say strongly, as I push a lose strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m doing this the smart way, too. When he and I decide when we should meet up, I’ll let you know. Maybe we can make it a group thing. I bring a friend. He brings a friend.”

Stacey sighs in defeat when she realizes I’m not backing down. She glances up at me with a stern face. “Fine. When you two decide when you’re both going to meet up, I’ll be there. I’ll be there to make sure he’s not on America’s Most Wanted, and to make sure he doesn’t try to lure you to his mom’s basement. BUT...you have to go on a date. A REAL date with a guy we both know, AND who could be good for you,” she states loudly and clearly.

“But Stacey-”

“Hey! Only until this Jason guy comes to Gotham and we meet him! Until then, I want you to give this guy a chance. A fair chance! For me...please???” Stacey pleads. She pouts and gives me her puppy dog eyes, which she knows I always give in to.

I’m too nice. Mom always said I was too nice, and that one day it’ll get me in trouble.

I’m still wondering when that’ll happen.

“Okay, I’ll give this guy a chance. I swear I will,” I promise and salute her. “But who’s the guy?”

Stacey grins in success and hugs me tightly. “Good! Because you’re like my sister, Y/N, and I just want to see you happy. You deserve it,” she says softly. “And it’s Chace. Remember him? He’s the drummer from, WakeHell. He moved in right next door to me, and I know you two will hit it off right!”

Chace????

Oh yeah. I know him.

He’s a total bad boy. A bad boy I don’t even think I could deal with.

I force a smile but then frown, because the only guy in my life who makes me happy is Jason.

Who I only text.

Who I haven’t even met.

 ————————————————————————---------------------------------

The next day is a lazy day since it’s my day off. I spent the majority of it sleeping, doing laundry, and just doing minor cleaning around my apartment until it’s 9:00 P.M.

And Cruel Intentions is on TV.

Lying on the couch with my second glass of Vodka Cranberry, I find myself really buzzed and horny. Ryan Phillippe back then was hot, and him making out with Reese Witherspoon is doing things to me.

My phone bings. It’s Jason.

What are you up to tonight, sweetheart?

Just a night in, a cup of glasses of vodka and cranberry, and Cruel Intentions is on TV.

I barely realize I’m buzzed and texting Jason. But my horny side doesn’t care.

I sorry I’m buzzed right now lol.

LOL no worries. I just came back from the bar with my brothers. We had a successful night and decided to get some drinks. We even had Tim and Damian use fake I.D’s.

I laugh and snort. Thank God no one heard me do that.

That’s good...we wouldn’t want Tim and Damian to be left out. They’re your baby brothers, Jay.

Jay? I really like it when you call me that. And I especially like you buzzed. LOL.

I like me buzzed too! I think I’m way more fun and free!

LOL!!! Exactly, princess!

I smile down at my phone. I love it when he calls me princess.

You said you’re watching Cruel Intentions? I just found it on TV. Wow...this movie’s old LOL.

Shut up!!! I find young Ryan Phillppe sexy in this movie!

You seriously find him sexy??? The guy’s a whiny brat! A pussy! Fuck, this movie woulda been sexier if we actually saw the douchebag eat out Cecile and saw him fuck Annette AND Kathryn!

I gasp out loud and giggle.

Then it would have been a porno! Not a movie! Hahaha!!!!

That’s fine with me, princess!

I softly whimper at just the thought of Jason watching porn. Closing my eyes, I imagine how he would sound, touch himself, and look when he’s pleasuring himself.

My eyes shoot open when I hear Sebastian telling Cecile he wants to kiss her…down there. I quickly turn my attention to the TV and watch the movie. Even though he takes advantage of a clueless, drunk girl in the movie, just the thought of him eating her out makes me clench my thighs.

It’s been too long. WAY TOO LONG!

The last guy I was seeing didn’t like to eat me out; claimed it was disgusting and unnecessary to do before sex.

As if sucking his dick was glamorous AND fun!

My thoughts are interrupted when Jason texts me.

You’re quiet tonight…does this scene turn you on???

The laughing emojis he texts me should hurt my feelings since I can easily be embarrassed over sexual things but…he’s right.

I’m turned on with just the thought of getting eaten out.

I boldly text Jack back. Unashamed and VERY buzzed.

You have no idea. Just imagining him eating me out, writing the alphabet with his tongue, and making me have an explosion is making me wet my panties right now.

I laugh to myself just seeing that Jason read my text message and is responding fast. The texting bubbles have never looked so good.

You’re…you’re wet right now????

Yes. Soooo fucking wet.

A surge of drunken confidence hits me, and I quickly shove off my pajama shorts until they’re on the floor. In just my white tank top and pink panties, I bravely slip my fingers into my damp panties and rub the wetness against my sensitive clit.

And with my other hand, I raise my cell phone and snap a picture of fingers in my wet panties.

And I send the picture to Jason.

I bite my lip in anticipation when I see he read my text message and saw my picture. The texting bubbles do not appear on the screen. He’s not texting me back.

Frowning, I wonder if I freaked Jason out. Maybe I crossed the line. Maybe I made him uncomfortable. Maybe I’m just not sexy.

Suddenly, my phone beeps. Unlocking my cell phone screen, I see two text messages AND a picture.

Oh, fuck sweetheart…that’s fucking sexy. You’re fucking sexy…

Jason sends me a picture of him wearing his boxer briefs, and his hand holding his hard, thick cock, showing me the outline and shape of his boner.

Delicious. I can feel my pussy clench just from imagining Jason fucking me with his cock.

Fuck doll...you’re doing this to me.

I whimper pathetically and can’t help but continue to rub my clit and respond back. I can see my juices staining my panties.

Are you touching yourself too?

Fuck yeah. Just seeing your fingers playing with your wet, pretty pussy got me hard. I’m jacking off to your picture.

Would you want me like I want you?

Fuck yes, sweetheart. I probably want you more than you want me.

I slip a finger inside my pussy and moan. My thumb runs fast hard circles on my clit, and I’m soon pushing in two fingers. I’m fucking myself crazy, but I imagine Jason is finger fucking me because my fingers wouldn’t get me off so fast.

And his fingers are thick. His hands are fucking huge!

I bite my bottom lip. “Fuck...I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” I whisper to myself. I snap another picture of my fingers shoved in my pussy, and how I’ve gotten wetter. I send him the picture with the truth.

I need to cum so bad. I wish it was you touching me.

Yeah? What would you want me to do to you, doll?

Fuck that picture’s so hot.

I’d want you to finger me. Eat me out. Fuck me hard.

Jason sends me another picture of him stroking his cock but with his hand in his underwear. I can see a wet spot where his tip is; stained with his precum. I want a taste of it so badly.

Fuck I would baby. Your pussy looks so good enough to eat. I’d fucking eat you out until you can’t cum anymore. I bet you taste delicious.

Oh fuck…I’m so close. I want your cock so bad, Jay. You’re gonna make me cum…

Rub your clit harder baby. Fuck your pussy fast and hard with your fingers. Imagine they’re my fingers, baby. I’d fuck you so hard and deep. 

I want to see your cum, okay? Take a picture of that pretty pussy and show me what I did to you.

I do what Jason says. Behind his words, I can feel his authority. Even though I can’t hear Jason’s voice, just reading his words makes me burst like fireworks. My thumb rubs my clit harder, and I crook my fingers just right until I push against my g-spot until I cum. My orgasm is intense, and I force myself to snap a picture of my soaked underwear and fingers. I sent it to him with a lazy smile.

My phone beeps. Jason sent me a picture of his thick, juicy, cum covering his abdominal muscles. I smile a little with pride. 

Fuck that was hot, sweetheart. I needed that. 

Me too. Now, I’m sleepy. 

LOL, I’m tired too. Get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.  

Okay…goodnight Jay.  

I roll over onto my side and shut off the TV. Pulling my UGG throw blanket over my body, I snuggle up to fall asleep. My phone beeps again. Opening one eye, I reach over to read the text message. 

Goodnight doll. Sweet dreams.  

#dc comics #batman #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x y/n smut #jason todd smut

[ashes-and-ashes]

Lightning and Marauders

Draco stares out of the window.

He’s still furious, with Harry and with Dumbledore and the entire fucking Order. He can feel it, rage coiling around his bones, the anger making him feel light-headed. He’d always had an explosive temper, the type that ended up with shattered glasses and holes in walls.

It didn’t work when his father attempted to beat it out of him, but then again, rarely anything worked. He learnt though, over the years, learnt to keep everything contained inside of him, because at least he didn’t cut anyone when he shattered.

With a sigh, Draco stares down at his arm, the ugly brand that couldn’t cover the scars on his wrist. He couldn’t even remember what the fight was about - something small, he was sure, something inconsequential and pathetic. Stress had blown it up, turned it into something so much bigger then it should have been, made him keep pushing, keep arguing until him and Harry were both screaming at each other from opposite sides of the kitchen table.

Of course, he had spat, anger making him feel like he was on fire. Of course you would say that. You’ve always had it easy, being the fucking savior.

Don’t you ever say that again, Harry replied, all hissed words and cold fury. Don’t you ever say that I had it easy. You’re the one on your Malfoy throne, all high and mighty -

You don’t know what they did to me.

What? Harry sneered. Bought you a broomstick and held your hand? Is it to your advantage to switch your side?

Fuck you.

Harry laughed. What did I expect? You’re the son of a Death Eater. Why did I ever think that we could trust you?

Draco had stormed off before he could say those damning words spinning around in the back of his head, echoing the cold words spoken by his father so long ago. You’ll never be enough. You’ve doomed us all.

He couldn’t though, couldn’t bring himself to say the words. It would destroy them, that already fragile bond he had with Harry, the small hope of something more. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to risk that.

Draco leans his head against the window, the glass cool against his cheek. The rain cast patterns over his face; he watches the shadows trace against his skin.

He doesn’t know where he is - some tower room in Grimmauld Place. The house was huge, larger then the Manor, all stone and dark wood and huge green drapes. There are tapestries all over the walls, symbols embroidered on them in heavy gold thread; he recognizes a few of them. Whom ever owned this house must have been rich - Charmed Marks were expensive and there were hundreds of them all over the walls.

He sighs, turning his attention back to the scene outside. His head pounds; he lets it drop back against the window frame.

“Done being all melodramatic?”

He can see the barest hint of a reflection in the window, all darkened shapes and blurred lines. He doesn’t bother to turn around though, just shrugs. “It’s my forté. I should go into acting.”

The person lets out a dry chuckle. “Aren’t you a spy? It’s close enough.”

Draco stiffens. “Who told you that?”

“You’re not the only Drama Queen here.”

Draco turns slightly in his seat, just so that he could see the figure standing by the door. He’s tall, hair down to his shoulders and covered with tattoos. There’s a casual sort of elegance to him, the type that Draco had spent most of his life trying to perfect, all careless arrogance and stunning grace.

Charcoal eyes met his; grey, he thinks, just like mine. Draco gets to his feet quickly, leaning back against the wall. He’s learnt that appearing casual made others lower their guard. The man’s quiet chuckle lets him know that his action had not been missed.

“God,” he says, giving him a small smirk. It’s the grin of a younger man, the ghost of something that had long died. “You remind me so much of - “

“Don’t,” Draco says, cutting him off. “Don’t say that I remind you of my father. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? As if I wanted to be some egotistical fanatic - “

The man laughs. “No. I wasn’t going to say that. I get the sense that you aren’t fond of your father though. He was an asshole. A brilliant, conniving asshole but an asshole all the same.”

Draco looks up, startled. “You know him?”

“Doesn’t everyone? Everyone who knows about Death Eaters, that is.”

Draco flinches. “I - I’m not - “

“Like them? Family bonds can be hard to sever. Just take me for an instance.”

“What do you know?” Draco fires back. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about Pure Blood families. You don’t know what it’s like to be suffocated, to be forced into a mold that doesn’t fit you - “

The man throws back his head and laughs; bitter and amused. “Oh I don’t know, do I? I probably know better then anyone else here, I Draco.”

Draco turns away, willing the tears not to come. “Oh, really?”

The man smirks. “I’m Sirius,” he says. “Sirius Black.”

“Harry’s Godfather.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been known as anything but Traitor.”

Draco folds his arms across his chest. “I’m a Malfoy,” he says. “Your name was synonymous with Hero back at home.”

“Nice to know I’m still worshipped.” Sirius leans back against the wall. He’s covered in scars, hundreds of them; up his arms and wrapped around his fingers, disappearing under his shirt. Draco thinks of his own back, the smooth, pale skin and shudders. His father was careful - and even Voldemort’s Crucio’s didn’t leave any scars. He didn’t want to think about how bad the pain was to leave so many scars across Sirius’ flesh.

“What do you want?” Draco says, keeping his voice even. “I assume you don’t just want to chat.”

Sirius shrugs. “Harry. You had a fight with him.”

“Why don’t you check in with him?”

“I already did.”

“Did he tell you about how much of a manipulative, lying bastard I was?”

Sirius shakes his head. Draco stares at his forearms, the silver moon tattoos inked onto the skin. They seemed to shimmer, even in the dark room, the edges rippling and fading into the next shape. “He told me all about you, actually. How brave you were. How you’re only 17 and yet you’re spying for a side that will try and execute you if they win this war.”

“What do I have to lose?” Draco whispers. “There’s nothing left for me in this world. I might as well try and - “

“Make it better?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius smiles. “I was actually going to say, before you interrupted me earlier that you remind me a lot of myself. Back when I was younger. You have the same...complete disregard for yourself. Self-destructive tendencies, almost. Because who cares if you burn as long as you’re warming those you love?”

“I - “

Sirius fixes him with that piercing gaze, the one that saw into his soul and stripped him bare. “Jesus, you’re young. I fought in the first War, back when I was 19. I still have nightmares. To do that to innocent kids - I don’t - you’re so - “

“Young?” Draco’s voice was a near-breath. “I’ve already killed 8 people, Sirius. I’m a little too damned to be innocent, don’t you think?”

He stared at his hands, palms up, the light dancing off his fingertips. “I’ve tortured people and been tortured myself. Spying is nothing.”

“True.” Sirius’ voice is light. “But I never knew Lucius would lay a hand on his son.”

Draco’s breath hitched. “What?”

“Don’t what me. My mother was the one hurting me. I know those marks.”

Draco stares down at Sirius’ hands, the tiny scars that flecked his skin. “What are those?”

Sirius’ grin was savage, brutal and cutting and painful. “Crucio.”

“Crucio doesn’t leave marks.”

“When you use it enough it does.”

“I’ve never met someone who knows what it feels like. Besides Harry and myself.”

Sirius blanches at the sound of Harry’s name. “He’s been...”

“Yeah.”

“God.” Sirius drops his head in his hands. “12 years. 12 fucking years I’ll never get back. God, I missed so much.”

“He loves you,” Draco says quietly. “He adores you.”

Sirius looks up. “You love him.”

It wasn’t a question. Draco feels the blood drain from his face, his heart falling to the floor. He takes a deep breathes, holds it, waits until he knew his voice wouldn’t shake. “He’s one of my closest friends.”

Sirius studies him for a minute, then lets out a low whistle. “God, you are practically a carbon copy of me.”

“What do you mean?” Draco demands.

Sirius just studies him, his head tilted, those piercing eyes shredding him slowly apart. Draco just grit his teeth, met his gaze.

Finally, Sirius speaks. “I was in love with a boy,” he says, and Draco flinches. “For ages, actually. Since I was 12. He was my best friend.”

“How did you know?” Draco breathes. “That it was love?”

Sirius smiles. “You just know.”

“I don’t though.” Draco looks down, at his feet. “I always hear things, about how love makes you soft, makes you happy, lifts you up and turns you lighter. And I always think what bullshit. Because that’s not what I feel. Not at all.”

“It’s fire,” Sirius says quietly.

“God, it’s more then that. It’s consuming. It scares me, because I’m in a war, and if something happened to him...There’s nothing I wouldn’t do - I’ve switched sides for God’s sake. I’ve damned my soul because of him, I love him that much.”

Sirius just shrugs, head propped up against his han, and Draco thinks again that he looks very, very young. “The only monster made are ones that are in love.”

“And he doesn’t - I don’t even know if he loves me.”

Sirius laughs. “Oh Merlin. Harry most definitely does, Draco.”

“No - “

Sirius cuts him off. “Yes. He does.”

Draco looks down, at his feet. He can feel the weight of Sirius’ gaze against his back, burning into his soul. “Tell me about him,” he says.

Sirius closes his eyes. “I don’t know. He was...beautful. All full of light - the steady kind. A candle, compared to the raging flames inside of me - inside of both of us,” he adds. “He never thought he was good enough, but he was better then I ever could be.”

Draco nods. He thinks about Harry - his smiles, his eyes, the way his hair felt when Draco let his hands brush through. The harsh set of his mouth when he was concentrating, the way he laughs, all quicksilver and molten metal, the way Draco’s heart stopped every time they touched. He thinks about how he dropped everything - his family, his title, his home, how he was willing to die just to give Harry a chance and he wonders if he’ll ever have anything like this again.

“Do you regret it?” he asks. “Telling...telling whoever it was?”

Sirius’ holds Draco’s gaze.

“No,” he says, and Draco believes him.

#wolfstar #drarry #wolfstar angst #drarry angst #wolfstar fluff #drarry fluff #wolfstar fanfic #drarry fanfic #sirius black #draco malfoy #sirius black angst #draco malfoy angst #sirius black fluff #draco malfoy fluff #sirius black fanfic #draco malfoy fanfic #sirius x remus #draco x harry #harry potter #remus lupin

[whoslaurapalmer]

so i never do this but i put a lot of thought into really specific details about the structure and scene layout of (the three-part folding mirror) and i really really really want to talk about it so here are some of my notes and some general commentary 

-the crux of the fic, at least the way i had envisioned it, is what vfd does to family, how it becomes biological family vs the family created by vfd

-what vfd did to specific families: -physically separated the calibans -morally separated the denouements and the snickets -somehow brought the anwhistles closer together

-in terms of ramona and olaf, ramona was there to stress the distinction of biological family vs. vfd family but also how they’re so inextricably intertwined with each other, and olaf, this is harder to tell bc he doesn’t have a point of view here, but olaf is scoping out potential candidates for his personal group of firestarters – his own sort of “family” (ramona bc she’s a duchess, ernest because he has a similar line of thought, josephine because her husband is working with the mushrooms, the white-faced women because, well they wind up in his troupe and I have very vague headcanons about how that happens)

-related; the reason frank asks olivia about miranda at the end is because, at that point in the fic, frank feels so terrible about what he said to ernest that he’s trying to reassure himself that his family is still okay because (dewey’s right) at least they’re together, compared to the calibans, who haven’t seen each other in years. it was one of the first ideas I had when I was jotting ideas down in april and it stuck with me the whole way through. I really wanted it in there. I went back and forth before I got to this plot, though, on whether or not frank or ernest would be the one asking it. but I think it fits frank. -(ahahahahahaha the kicker being that miranda really was at the party the whole time and olivia didn’t recognize her) -anyway 

-the parallels in the fic were: -the denouements start the fic together, and end the fic alone (by being honest about how they feel about each other) -the snickets start the fic relatively separated, and end the fic together (by being dishonest about what happened during the party) -the denouements start the fic by playing their game, and the snickets end the fic with theirs -frank is mistaken for ernest, ernest is mistaken for frank -frank pretends to be ernest on accident, ernest pretends to be frank on purpose -dewey has never slammed a door in his life; towards the end of the fic he slams the tray -i….think that’s all of them. I think

-character-wise, jacques and frank both see themselves as the people holding their families together; when in fact for the denouements, it’s dewey, which I think is clear in this, and for the snickets it’s lemony, which is less clear here? but definitely something I agree with -dewey and kit see themselves as the most ‘normal’, and they both have relatively solitary positions of acquiring information -ernest and lemony clearly both vibe on a ‘question vfd’ wavelength -i was also interested in kit and ernest, as siblings who feel stifled by an older/perceived older sibling, and dewey and lemony, who are sometimes unnecessarily protected by their siblings because they are the youngest/perceived youngest -this doesn’t show up in the fic bc olaf’s parents are still alive, but I thought ramona and olaf were also interesting foils re: reacting to their parent’s deaths

-some narration notes: -frank never refers to ernest and dewey as his brothers, except in the scene where he argues with ernest. because frank doesn’t necessarily see the split of biological family vs vfd family but has definitely swayed more to vfd family -ernest and dewey always refer to each other as brothers. -similarly, frank refers to the members of vfd as associates, most everyone else refers to them as friends. -ernest refers to vfd as strictly VFD because he’s distanced himself from it, while everyone else calls it ‘the organization’ -frank doesn’t swear even in his narration when he’s thinking them and not saying them because it’s, still his narration. he still wouldn’t quite completely say the words. (oh, he’s like gansey, like that. the raven cycle is still on my brain. i had so many scene sketches where ernest and frank were way too callous to each other bc they kept coming out like ronan and declan.)  -kit’s line at the beginning is “someone in this very room has betrayed us” which is jacques’s line from the building committee meeting in unauto. the clock saying wrong afterwards is because the someone who really betrayed them (lemony) isn’t in the room. 

-the costumes, which i did decide very arbitrarily: monty: clearly a snake. olaf: sigh. wolf ramona and olivia: oh, there was actually a slight distinction that just no one notices because none of them have looked at an insect (and also because describing clothes properly but succinctly is the hardest thing. i've written fic for a long time!!!!! i did my time in block paragraph clothing description hell!!! it haunts me!!!!!!!!!!), but ramona was the butterfly and olivia was actually a dragonfly. their masks are roses because, well 1) I thought that would be cool 2) butterflies and dragonflies land on flowers…. jacques: the boxwood, but a lion otherwise. josephine: ocean widdershins: the octopus with the pirate hat jacquelyn: the gold star suit (because gustav said she should do it for a play on. star. like. actress star.) miranda: uranus’s moon named miranda. it was very vague and I put that in the fic before I decided to have her in the little scene with esme. and then i thought i would put her in that scene too. gustav: phantom of the opera.  haruki: tree frog hector: tree (not because of haruki’s costume but because i literally could not think of a damn thing for hector to be) lemony: uhhhhhh I had vague ideas he was. a cloud or something. like a stormcloud???? couldn’t pan out though. I like him in grey anyway. kit: I really just wanted her in red. with a big cape. and i spent so much time mentally deciding if i wanted her to have glasses or not in the archives that i forgot to mention her mask. everyone has one i swear to god  white faced women: did anyone recognize that was them? :) it’s not mentioned in any way at all but in my head they were all dressed identically as flappers

esme actually doesn’t have one, because I, forgot, to give her one. I’m taking suggestions. 

-references to lyeekha’s fics: -“that which is essential is invisible to the eye” is what frank says to jacques at the end of edge, and also the title of their snicket/denouement series  -it initially wasn’t in there, because I was worried it wasn’t, like, in the right tone, re: what happens in edge vs how I was interpreting jacques and frank? but i liked it a lot. so i put it back in.  -“frank quit smoking, but you didn’t” is a reference to frank smoking at the end of rigged  -guess the guest and the clock alcove are from the end of fragments, with dewey and ernest watching hotel guests. this is my favorite thing in the whole world and something i actually keep forgetting is not canon because it is SUCH the perfect beethoven parallel  -kit’s tattoo, which I was specifically imagining as the giant bombinating beast tattoo from ink on her back, which is definitely not around her neck but that was the only spot of skin she was showing so it was available and my thought was, it was kind of a low-cut in the back dress, and she was wearing the cape to cover up the giant tattoo on her back because beatrice was not there to cover it up with makeup (also bea picked out the dress.) (bea: if I can’t be there you have to make a statement) (kit: I have to what) -lemony being a “powerful, mythical figure” to the sugar bowl gen was actually something I wrote a long time ago, back in 2013, and I put it in the fic because I thought it fit, and then happened to reread double edged VERY late into the rewriting, literally THE DAY after I wrote that line in, and i saw a similar line of thought, and I was like “*cooper voice* sometimes you just get lucky ~ ” -jacques being in a lion costume, from the masquerade outfit sketches

additionally – -yes I am still cackling about ‘angel of my apple’ -angel of my apple -ANGEL OF MY APPLE  -writing olaf is constantly like, he can say the funniest fucking things. and then turn around and say the absolute cruelest shit and the balance can be difficult.  -but, angel of my a p p l e 

-i can’t believe that out of all the people here, frank and jacques are the ones having the most semi-successful romantic relationship. well, ramona and olivia, too, but frank and jacques actually kiss so good for them -i know it was very vague and it’s because writing romance is physically embarrassing, but yes that last line was supposed to be them kissing, i’m so sorry 

-undercover underwater was a last-minute addition because I didn’t want to take the time to try and google something real and good because I didn’t have the time. my guilty pleasure is super shitty hallmark murder mystery movies (I like good murder mysteries as well, thank you.) and my mom’s been reading terrible murder mysteries during lunch (where I was sitting across from her, also eating lunch, but also hiding behind my laptop and writing the fic) so I just came up with undercover underwater on the spot, but my mom came up with the tagline. it was originally ‘sleeps with the fishes’ (especially because i love the godfather movies which also, clearly has a very big stress on family vs The Family) but I thought ‘diving for the truth’ was funnier. -my mom and my brother (who has no interest in shitty murder mysteries, but loves to verbally smack them down with me re: their predictable tropes) and I decided that the plotline was something like, single woman scuba dives and keeps running into stuff (you know, hidden treasure, dead bodies, the like); her love interest drives the boat; her overbearing family member is an aunt; this is definitely like, book four in the series. there’s probably twelve books or something. (she goes on vacation on like book six and still finds a dead body, come on it practically writes itself.) (she probably owns a little fish tank......it’s a small sunny beach town.........etc etc.........) (it’s so easy to do this.)  -oh, fixer upper is the worst hallmark murder mystery series, murder she baked is the best. in my opinion. 

-dewey and lemony were supposed to have an actual conversation at the hors d’oeuvres table but every time I tried to put lemony in earlier he just wouldn’t work. it didn’t feel right. so he got saved for the reveal. -but i’m still delighted by the idea of lemony literally doing the shot of gazpacho.  -dewey uses a spoon because he doesn’t have the composure or the guts to do a shot of cold soup  -lemony was also supposed to have a scene with kit and one with jacques, i’m pretty sure, to lead up to the gazpacho conversation and the commiserating re: siblings. but again, didn’t work out. so then dewey had to fare alone in the scene. -oh!! the line about how lemony hides, in the least likely places, was actually something that was in my initial write of lemony’s scrapped pov of my ellington fic. jacques being responsible for sending olivia to the hinterlands was from a scrapped jacques fic.  -steal from your unused fic. 

-because I had to take scenes with lemony out, I had some, gaps in the night that I had to fill in (especially because this is a party more people are there than the snickets and the denouements), so that was how esme, the herpetology squad, and olaf and josephine came to be. (also olaf needed to show up again somewhere else otherwise he kind of, disappeared awkwardly, I thought?) -also because initially there was going to be a scene of bea and bertrand, elsewhere, but I wanted to keep the fic contained to the hotel, because one of the ideas I wasn’t able to put into the fic all that much was the sense of the hotel being its own world -oh, bea and bertrand don’t know that lemony used them as cover. the assignment they were working on instead of being at the party? planning the opera. the scene would’ve come right after ramona and olaf’s conversation. -the herpetology squad not only serves to highlight that people can’t tell the denouements apart (part of the foreshadowing that ernest would pretend to be frank), but was also me roasting myself because writing like a million different characters I had never written like this before had me very concerned about if their characterization was consistent, specifically for kit. (specifically, her with dewey.) also defining a character down to one base trait can be helpful when writing and creating characters, but for people no it’s not ideal. -haruki’s estimation of the denouement’s traits were not how i was mentally keeping track of them, because i definitely do do the ‘one base trait’ sometimes, but i had a lot more going on when i was thinking of them -but yes dewey is kind. in the way that bertrand is kind, but bertrand’s like, way more smooth about it. 

-lemony does not have his own pov because, for me personally, I can’t fathom writing him in any other way besides first person, and it just would not do to have one scene out of the whole fic not in third person. unless he was secretly narrating each scene, which, he clearly was not. i would’ve had to do it in a whole different style. 

-i love that dewey and kit are like ‘ahaha we’re the normal ones though’ and their normal conversation is them literally going ‘hey these creepy fish are AWESOME THOUGH’ -i looked at so many fish. for hours.  -ALL BECAUSE I came up with the phrase ‘oceanic intrigue’ as a fun phrase and decided I had to commit my soul to it and never look back. -oh, the fairy shrimp are really very cute though. and i think the cookiecutter shark is, fucked up but a neat little guy. 

-i’m eternally going to be laughing about this too  kit: where the fuck is frank frank: /three floors down, making out with jacques

-oh!! 40-49 is unassigned in the dewey decimal system (which I googled. many, many times.), and was previously biographies. there’s another section for biographies now, but because biography was the closest I could come to like, some sort of, identity category, I thought it was more fitting if it was the section that used to be biography but was now as blank as frank felt.

-dewey is the one responsible for the clock sounding like it does. he just thinks ‘wrong’ is a fun word. that, and frank recognizing jacques by sound, were from my earlier scene sketches for this when i thought this fic was going to be much, much shorter. 

#lulu talks about the sad lemon man

[cocos-cocoapuffsarenotforsale]

Hazards of Lying

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Potter!Reader

Summary: Draco and the Reader have been in a secret relationship for a while. But what happens when she gets injured during a Quidditch match and their relationship is outed?

Tags: Swearing, Fluff, Potter!Reader, Gryffindor!Reader, Protective!Draco, She/Her Pronouns, Female!Reader, Slight AU, Canon Divergence, Godfather!Sirius Black, Sirius raised Harry and Reader, Harry’s Twin!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Sick!Reader, Injured!Reader, Secret Relationship, Happy Ending, Quidditch (Idk if that’s a warning)

———————————————————————

“Ready to get your butt whooped Malfoy?” You tease your boyfriend of two years, Draco Malfoy, as you pull him into an empty classroom.

“I think you really ought to be asking yourself that Potter.” He responds cheekily, giving you a quick peck on your pouting lips.

“Watch it Malfoy,” you warn, before a cough rakes through your body.

“Love, are you alright?” He asks with concern lacing his features.

“Yeah, I’m fine it’s just a little cold,” you lie. You didn’t want to tell Draco the truth about just how shitty you were feeling. He would find a way to make you sit out the match. Not for nefarious reasons, of course, he just wanted to make sure you were ok. But you couldn’t let your team down, especially your twin brother Harry. It was Harry’s first year as Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and you wanted to do all you could to make sure it was a successful one.

“You sure you’re good to play today?” He presses, eyeing your rundown form suspiciously.

“Scared you’re gonna lose Malfoy?” You quip trying to get his mind off of your health.

“Not in the least Potter. I’m merely concerned about my girlfriend’s well-being.” He tries to make the reply come off as playful, but you can hear the edge in his voice.

“I’m fine, Draco. I’m great actually seeing as how I’m about to kick your sorry arse in Quidditch.” You taunt, with a playful smile spreading over your face. 

“In your dreams Potter.”

“You always are.” You reply with a wink before giving him another quick kiss. 

“I gotta go meet Harry and the others for breakfast. I’ll see you down on the pitch. Wanna meet up after the match?” You ask as you walk back to the door.

“Sure, Room of Requirement? 8 o’clock?” 

“Sounds good. Love you Malfoy.”

“Love you too Potter,” he replies with a wink. You exit the classroom and head towards the Great Hall to meet up with your twin brother and your friends.

———————————————————————

GREAT HALL

“Ready for the match today, Y/n/n?” Harry asks as you sit down beside Hermione, across from Harry and Ron (who was already piling food onto his plate).

“Born ready brother.” You reply, grabbing a small muffin. You were hoping that picking at the muffin would prevent your brother and friends from noticing your lack of appetite.

“You feeling ok Y/n/n?” Hermione asks after a while of you just picking at the muffin. Damn Hermione and her astute observation skills.

“Yeah, I’m just not very hungry. Pre-game nerves.” You lie. Harry’s eyes narrow and he eyes you closely.

“You’ve never been nervous before. You’ve been playing since second year.” He points out, watching your reactions carefully. 

“Well it’s the first game of the season and it’s the first time without Wood. It’s just different this year.” You can tell Harry and Hermione don’t believe you. And Ron was too busy with his food to pay attention. Thankfully Harry and Hermione let it go for now.

———————————————————————

QUIDDITCH LOCKER ROOM

By the time you had made your way down to the pitch, you were feeling ten times worse than you had when you first woke up. Your head was pounding, your stomach was churning, and you felt like you were going to pass out any second. But you couldn’t let your team down, so you forced yourself to push through.

“You ok Girl Potter?” George Weasley asks you when you walk into the locker room.

“Yeah, you’re not looking so hot,” Fred concurs when he takes in your haggard appearance.

“I’m fine guys. Let’s just go out there and kick some Slytherin ass.” You reply.

“Must be ok, she’s still so feisty.” Fred teases with a wink before Harry walks in.

“Alright team, it’s the first match of the season. I know there have been a few changes this year and we haven’t played a real Quidditch match in over a year, but I believe in us. This is our year to win the Quidditch Cup! So let’s go out there and crush Slytherin!” Harry encourages and the team cheers excitedly. You feel yourself sway a little when you join in but push it aside. You were not going to let your team down, let Harry down.

“Let’s head out then team!” Harry instructs and you all follow him onto the pitch. 

Once everyone is in position Madam Hooch gives her usual speech about keeping it clean and then she blows her whistle and throws up the Quaffle. Katie wins the face-off and passes you the Quaffle. You speed off towards the goalposts and fake out the Keeper before passing the Quaffle back to Katie, who scores right after. Your head was pounding even harder and you felt incredibly woozy. But you tried to shake it off, you were not going to let the team down.

“You good?” George mouths as he comes up next to you. You sure as hell weren’t good but there was no way you were going to admit it so you merely nod in response. 

By the time Gryffindor had scored a total of 90 points, you were ready to fall asleep right then and there. You were so worn out but you weren’t ready to give yet. You just hoped Harry would find the goddamn snitch soon. You were so out of it you didn’t even notice the Bludger that almost knocked you out of the air. Luckily Fred had his head in the game and whacked the Bludger away before it could hit you. Fred shot you a worried glance but you just shook your head and soared off towards the Slytherin goalposts to help Katie and Angelina score. 

But on your way towards the goalposts, you start seeing black spots. You try to ignore it again but suddenly your vision goes black and that’s the last thing you remember.

———————————————————————

DRACO’S POV

I kept a close eye on Y/n after our little rendezvous before breakfast. She seemed off earlier and it had me worried. I knew how stubborn she was and there was no way she would willingly sit out a Quidditch match, even if it was in her own best interests. Through breakfast, I noticed she didn’t eat anything. All she did was pick at that stupid muffin. But it wasn’t like I could say anything to her now. We had agreed when we started dating to keep our relationship on the down-low. After all, could you imagine the rumor mill at Hogwarts if they found out the Slytherin Prince was dating the Boy-Who-Lived’s sister?

By the time we started the match, Y/n looked awful. How the fuck could Potter let her play like this? It was so obvious that she was unwell, her face was ashen and she looked as though a light breeze could knock her over.

After Gryffindor had scored nine goals and we were trailing behind with a total of 30 points, I noticed Y/n swaying. Why the bloody hell did Potter let her play today? She could fall and get seriously hurt, not to mention she looked like she was about to vomit any minute.

I gotta get that bloody snitch, I need to end this game before Y/n passes out.

I see the snitch and Potter soar past me and I go to move for it when I see a streak of black darts past me. I manage to avoid it but then I see it take off towards Y/n. She’s so out of it that she doesn’t even notice the Bludger that’s coming right at her. I feel my chest seize and I start to fly towards her when I see one of the Weaselbee Twins whack the Bludger away. 

I need to end this game, is all I can think after and I see the familiar gleam of the snitch out of the corner of my eye. Potter apparently saw it too and is already after it. I let out a low growl before I take off after him and the snitch. 

Just as I see Potter’s fingers close around the snitch I hear yelling. I turn and see Y/n falling, my heart stops and all I can do is try to catch her in time. I quickly start muttering the spell to cushion her fall when I realize there’s no way I’ll make it in time. 

Fortunately, my spell seems to have worked because while she still hits the ground with a soft thud it was definitely not as bad as it could have been. I’m by her side moments later, I was the first one to reach her and I feel my heart splinter when I see her motionless form.

“Y/n, Y/n, please, love, please, wake up,” I plead as the traitorous tears run down my cheeks.

“Y/n!” I hear Potter yell and he runs towards us. 

“What the hell are you doing Malfoy?” He spits shoving me away from her and I let out a deep growl making him back away in shock.

“I’m trying to take care of her Potter. Since you apparently are incapable of looking after your own bloody sister.” I hiss, furious. 

“Enough! We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey at once.” A deep voice commands, I look over to see the Headmaster and other teachers gathered around us, along with a horrified looking Sirius Black.

“I’ll take her,” I grumble as I carefully scoop her up into my arms, trying to be as gentle as possible. Potter and Black look like they’re about to argue but once they take in the state Y/n’s in they think better of it and simply follow my lead, as do Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape.

After we finally arrive at the Hospital Wing I lay Y/n down on the bed that Madam Pomfrey had motioned me over to.

“Is she going to be ok?” I ask in a quiet voice after Madam Pomfrey finishes her preliminary exam.

“What do you care, Malfoy?” Potter snarls.

“Enough of this, we should be focusing on Y/n,” Sirius commands, concern covering his face as he looks at his goddaughter’s unconscious form.

“Agreed Mr. Black, your goddaughter should be fine in a few hours. It seems she had a small flu bug and that was probably what caused her to pass out. She has a concussion, a couple of broken ribs, and a fractured wrist. I should be able to fix her right up but I do want her to remain overnight so I can keep an eye on her.” Madam Pomfrey explains.

“Daughter,” I hear Sirius correct and Madam Pomfrey nods with a small smile.

“Daughter,” Madam Pomfrey amends. 

“When will she wake up?” I ask in a croaky voice. 

“Well, it could be in a few hours or in a few minutes. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go fetch the healing potions.” She replies shuffling off towards her office.

“Sirius, you are welcome to spend the night with her if you wish.” Dumbledore offers kindly.

“Yes, I would like that. Thank you, Albus.” Black responds as he pulls up a seat next to her bedside and grasps her hand in his.

“Well, we had best get going,” Dumbledore suggests and he, McGonagall and Snape leave the wing promptly.

“Draco, why don’t you have a seat,” Black encourages softly. I nod and pull up a chair on the opposite of the bed and take her free hand in mine. Potter glares but says nothing and instead takes a seat beside his guardian

———————————————————————

READER’S POV

When you come to you are greeted with three very worried looking men. You look around slowly so as not to jostle your pounding head and realize you were in the Hospital Wing.

“What happened?” You ask softly, all three sets of eyes whip towards you.

“Thank Merlin!” You hear your godfather exclaim.

“What happened? I feel like I-” Harry cuts you off.

“Like you fell 100 feet?” Harry teases making you glare at him.

“Yes actually.” You reply sticking out your tongue at your obnoxious twin.

“That’s because you did, Princess,” Sirius responds, solemnly.

“The match,” you say, finally remembering.

“Yeah, you fell off your broom. You’ve been out for about an hour.” Sirius explains softly.

“Why?” Draco asks in a hushed voice.

“Why what?” You question, bewildered.

“Why did you lie to me? Why did you play when you were unwell?” He practically growled back.

“I knew you would try to make me not play. And I really wasn’t feeling that bad then. I couldn’t let Gryffindor down. Especially this year.” You explain. Sirius shoots you a quizzical look.

“What do you mean especially this year?” Your godfather inquires.

“Well, Harry’s captain this year. I couldn’t let him down.” You mutter not meeting your brother’s guilty eyes.

“You wouldn’t have let me down Y/n/n,” Harry reassures you and he pulls you into a tight hug.

“You need to take care of yourself first. You could’ve really been hurt Y/n, or even…” Draco trails off but you can see the fear in his eyes and fill in the blanks.

“I know, you’re right Draco. I’m sorry, I was stupid. So I guess our secret’s out of the bag, huh?” You ask cheekily, trying to lighten the mood.

“You could say that,” Sirius teases with a chuckle. “Why did you keep it from us, Princess?”

“I didn’t want to make you guys mad. I know how you both feel about him.” You play with the hem of your dirty Quidditch uniform to avoid looking at anyone.

“That doesn’t mean you have to hide things from us. I just want you two to be happy. If he makes you happy and treats you right, that’s all I can ask for.” Sirius replies, gently gripping your chin to make you look at him.

“Really?” You whisper in shock.

“Really Princess.” He assures you. 

“Me too.” Harry murmurs awkwardly. 

“For real?” You question, not quite believing him.

“For real sis.” He promises.

“Thank you, guys.” You say, unable to stop the excited smile from covering your face. 

“Why don’t we give you two a minute, I need to take a walk anyway,” Sirius suggests and he stands up and wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulder. Harry reluctantly nods and the two of them exit the Hospital Wing.

“Promise me something?” Draco asks, sitting on the end of your bed and taking your hands in his.

“What?”

“Swear to me you will never do something like that again.” His voice was eerily quiet and you could tell by the look in his eyes there was no use arguing this one.

“I promise Draco.” 

“Good,” he replies looking around before he gently, but firmly presses his lips to yours in a possessive kiss.

“Merlin, you scared the hell out of me,” he mutters when the two of you finally pull apart.

“I really am sorry.” You apologize again, feeling guilty for all the worry you caused everyone.

“I know, love. Just never do that again. And no more lying, deal?”

“Deal.” You reply, pulling him down for another kiss.

“I love you, Potter,” he confesses after you release him.

“I love you too, Malfoy.”

#Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x gryffindor!reader #draco malfoy x potter!reader #female!reader #potter!reader #draco x potter!reader #draco x gryffindor!reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x reader #Sirius Black #harry potter au #au harry potter #au #alternate universe #CANON DIVERGENCE #AU - Canon Divergence #au canon divergence #protective!draco #harry potter fluff #gryffindor!reader #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #CocosCocoaPuffsAreNotForSale

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Not Your Type

Steve Harrington x Reader

Read part 2 HERE

Word Count: 6,669

Warnings: Swearing, Smoking, Drinking, Sexual Assault mention

Tag List: @carolimedanvers @moonstruckhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hotstuffhargrove @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @hipsmcgee @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @balladblood @ashescilev 

“You’re not her type, Steve.” 

“You can’t say that till she meets me.”

The two had been arguing for days on the subject, without a clear answer in sight. Robin had promised, after weeks of watching Steve fail at getting girls, first at Scoops Ahoy and now at Family Video, to introduce him to a girl. Not just any girl, a girl like her. Steve had finally admitted that Dustin was right and he needed to go after girls who could make him genuinely happy, not just a girl who fit his popular mindset. He had tried his luck with Robin, and easily accepted the loss due to her own sexuality, and now he was set to try again. And Robin had been hyping up this friend of hers for weeks. She was cool and funny and smart like her and she was straight. That was all he was looking for. Whoever she was, she sounded perfect. 

But Robin was holding out on him.

His turned halfway to look at her, leaning his elbows on the counter to watch her shelf VHS tapes of music videos by the checkout line. She kept her back to him, rolling her eyes at his last comment. He was so pig headed most of the time, it was honestly annoying.

“Robin, you made this big deal about her, you said she was perfect, that I’d want to marry her on sight, and now you’re holding out. You gonna tell me what the deal is or not?” he asked with a brutal sigh. 

Robin didn’t turn around “Look, I might have...overhyped her a bit...like she’s amazing but she might...not be interested.” she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, turning to look at him with an embarrassed grimace.

“What?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Look...she likes Billy Idol types. She probably would’ve gotten along with Billy Hargrove if...well, you know.” Robin said, trailing off at the end. Both nodded softly, Robin swallowing as if her throat was dry. Maybe it was, the memory was certainly hard to swallow and even harder to forget.

“Right...so?” 

Robin scoffed “You’re too squeaky clean for her.” 

Steve slapped his hand on the counter, his hair bouncing excitedly with the quick movement “Oh come on! Do you remember me? I’m Steve ‘Hair’ Harrington! I was the coolest guy at Hawkins High.” he puffed up his chest proudly, like a peacock.

“And the most modest.” Robin stood up, dusting off her knees from grim from the carpets sticking to her bare skin. The only perk of working at Family Video was the lax dress code. The store’s air conditioning had broken in June and had turned the place into an oven with its big windows that couldn’t be shaded to hide the marquees and cardboard cutouts in the windows. Keeping the front door open and wearing as little as possible helped. 

“But seriously, Steve, I don’t want you to get your hopes up about her. She might not be interested.” Robin replied, planting her hands on her hips.

“I got it, now when can I meet her?” Steve asked.

Luckily for him, you were already on your way.

You had no idea why Robin had been so insistent on you visiting her at work. She never had been before, she’d made you promise not to visit her at Scoops, which was strange since you only worked a floor above at Claire’s, piercing children’s ears with ugly silver butterflies and flowers, only for them to buy big plastic hoops and balls to shove into the unprepared holes and get them totally infected. It was fun, you got to use a piercing gun. You’d almost gotten fired for trying to pierce your nose with the gun. You were glad that you didn’t, it would’ve totally ruined your nostril, but you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t totally worth it to see the look on your fat manager, Marge’s face. She was such a bitch, you were glad when that damn mall burned down. The one in Carmel was better anyway.

When Robin insisted on you coming to Family Video to meet her for her lunch break, you weren��t insanely apprehensive about it. It wasn’t until her tone changed when she mentioned meeting her coworker and friend that you started getting that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach. She was trying to set you up with someone. Again. She always did this when she wanted something. Last time she did it, it was with that awful Keith to try to get him to give her his poster from The Godfather, which he’d nicked from the back storage at The Hawke while it was still open. Whatever she wanted, you weren’t going to be used to get it. 

Still, you showed up. You promised that you would after all, and you were a person of your word. Parking your car in front of the store, you saw the almost empty parking lot and the wide open door signaling the open store. You sighed softly to yourself, grabbing your purse off the seat next to you and stringing it over your shoulder, popping the door and climbing out.

“Robin? You here?” you called as you walked in.” the store was empty and far too quiet for your liking.

“Welcome to Family Video, where we bring movie magic to you! Can I help you with anything today?” Steve asked from the counter, startling you. You practically jumped out of your skin, your hand coming to clutch at your heart as you whipped around to meet the soft expression of Steve Harrington. He looked slightly bemused, clearly trying to not laugh at your over the top reaction. You rolled your eyes, walking up to the desk.

“Is Robin here? Robin Walker.” you asked, looking him over with a calculating eye.

“Yeah, she’s just in the back, wait here.” Steve stepped out from behind the desk, pulling at his stiff, polyester golf shirt. The shirt was so white and blindingly bright that it hurt to look at, but the large black logo for the store broke it up enough to make it easier to watch Steve leave as it was to watch him walk away. 

Steve didn’t even make it all the way to the stockroom before Robin emerged, already changed out of her uniform and was grinning like an idiot. “Hey! You made it just in time!” she said, tossing you her purse and sweater. You caught them easily, relieved to see your friend and get out of there. 

“Steve, this is my friend Y/N. Y/N, you know Steve, right?” Robin said, gesturing between them with her now free hands. 

“What up, Harrington?” you asked boredly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Robin gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut and pulling her lips into a straight line. This is exactly what she thought would happen. Every time she’d introduced you to someone, no matter how genuine she was being, you turned into a brick fortress, completely impenetrable. Gone was your bubbly, snarky personality and quick wit, replaced by sneers and eye rolls and sarcasm. You weren’t nice or warm or open when you met the boys Robin decided you’d like. You weren’t yourself.

This wasn’t you. Robin knew it, she was certain that deep down you knew it. But Steve didn’t know it. Robin was certain that he had no idea who you were. And that made it worse. He had no background to you other than her own descriptions. And that wasn’t enough. This was not going to end well.

“You ready to grab food?” you asked, drawing Robin out of her mind.

“Huh? Oh yeah definitely. Burger in a Basket cool?” she replied, her eyes darting strangely between the pair of you.

“Sure, I’m not vegetarian this month. Accidently ate a fish stick last weekend while babysitting Todd Carther again. Total shit head but his parents pay me so much money to do it.” you replied, handing Robin’s things back to her. 

“Hasn’t he scared you off yet?” Robin asked, tying her grey sweatshirt around her hips.

“Nope, almost got me by dumping a whole jar of electric blue paint on my head. But the stuff is non-toxic so it didn’t mess up my eyes or skin and it let me know that dying my whole head blue isn’t going to be a good look for me.” you replied with a giggle, flashing a strand of faded blue hair to her. “The stupid paint did dye some of the bleach though, which totally sucks.”

“You babysit Todd Carther?” Steve asked, drawing your attention back to him and indented a hard frown onto your face. Robin caught the look and wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders, squeezing them too hard. 

“Oh yeah, Y/N is utterly fearless.” Robin announced with a grin.

“I know his older brother Matt; wicked dude, total party animal. He threw the best parties at the end of the basketball season. Totally rad…” he trailed off with a doofy grin, clearly imagining the fun times he’d had at some shitty house party.

“I know Matt too. He groped Sylvia Newman in the middle of freshman English for a stripe of Fruit Stripe gum. He assaulted her and didn’t even get detention for it.” you replied stonily, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh… bummer.” Steve tried. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “No, I’m serious. I didn’t know about that, that’s really fucked up. I don’t hang out with him anymore, but if I did I’d stop.”Steve said more confidently this time, running a hand through his overstyled hair. 

That...wasn’t the answer you were expecting. It knocked you out of your senses and you took a moment to respond. “Yeah...well I take money from his parents so I mean nobody’s perfect. And that whole family’s fucked up anyway.” Steve smiled slightly and you tried not to notice it. He just looked so proud of himself. It was almost endearing. But not enough to make you want to care.

“So, anyway, Steve? You go on break yet?” Robin asked.

Steve furrowed his brow, looking at Robin as though she’d grown a third head. Robin nodded her head towards you strangely and suddenly Steve blurted “That’s the girl? Really?”

You whipped around to look at Robin, utterly appalled. You had a sinking feeling that the whole reason you’d been invited out today was to be introduced to some guy, but you had no idea it would be so quick and for the guy to be Steve motherfucking Harrington. You couldn’t believe it. I mean he was the dumbest, more generic guy at Hawkins High. You swore he’d won the metal for stupidest questions in your Home Economics class in freshman year. He was just…such a dork! How he’d gotten so popular, you had no idea. Maybe this town was such so void of charm and charisma that even the most empty, callus boy could become a god with a wink and a smile.

“What does he mean that’s the girl?” you asked, your face pulling into a look of sheer anger that could stop a man in his tracks.

“Oh great work, Harrington, now you’ve done it.” Robin sighed, pulling her purse across her chest, smacking his arm roughly.

“Robin, what does he mean? What did you do?” you snapped, forcing her to look at you. Her face pulled into a look that you knew too well. Regret, embarrassment, and just a little bit of fear.

“I might have promised Steve that I’d introduce you to him.” You groaned loudly, your head falling back to look at the white tiled ceiling. Robin pressed on, her face turning into a look of sympathy, her smile made of rubber. “Because you’re so great! He doesn’t have many friends his own age anymore and I just thought-”

“Oh I know what you thought.” You bit out.

“Well, are you coming or not?” Robin turned to Steve, completely ignoring you.

Steve’s face turned sour and surprised and he looked between the two of you and then to the clock above you. “I mean…I kind of have some stuff to finish up here and I should really wait until Keith gets here before I go on my break…don’t want Mr. Mueller mad at me again.” He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging awkwardly.

Robin clicked her tongue “Since when do you care?” Steve simply shrugged again. “Y/N, can you wait for me outside?”

You nodded, turning on your heel and heading out just far enough to be out of sight. You wanted to hear whatever they had to say.

“Dude what the fuck? You wanted this!” Robin whispered violently.

“Yeah but I didn’t want her!” Steve replied. You didn’t see the smack, but you sure heard the sound of skin hitting skin and the embarrassing yelp Steve let out.

“Yeah well, you’re going to come with us and you’re going to be nice. Because I did this for you. And now you have to accept it.” Steve didn’t respond, which must have been a good sign for Robin.

“Remind me to never do anything nice for you ever again…” Robin muttered as their footsteps charged closer to you and you scurried out the open door, choosing to lean against the burning hot glass, crossing your arms over your chest and knocking the sunglasses from the top of your head to your face again.

“You ready to head out?” You asked, standing up straight, smiling at Robin.

“Yeah, just waiting for Harrington to put the sign.” Behind her, Steve was hanging the tiny clock shaped sign on the door, trying to figure out what time it would be when they got back.

“Just put four fifteen, Steve, Keith will be back by then and your shift will be over like immediately anyway. You clocked out, right?” Robin said quickly, turning to you to add “Keith is a menace; he doesn’t like to work with anyone and kicks everyone off the floor whenever he can.” You nodded boredly, you’d heard this when she worked with him at the arcade; she quit whereas he got fired, it was a point of bragging for her.

“Yes, Robin. I did what you said. I don’t like this idea, I need this job more than you do.” He muttered bitterly. You raised an eyebrow curiously. Bitter looked decent on him.

“Oh, will you relax? Let your hair down a bit, dingus.” Robin grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The three of you headed down the street to the cheesy diner Burger in a Basket. The whole place was themed after a fifties diner, complete with neon and pastel colours and fifties nostalgia on the walls. Bikes, hoola hoops, records, pictures of dead icons like Elvis and Marilyn Monroe, movie posters-the whole shebang. You didn’t go there for atmosphere, no, you went for the food. Robin insisted that it was the best burger she’d ever had and you’d be hard pressed to find one better in Hawkins. You didn’t know if Steve had been initiated into the burger ritual yet, but you didn’t really care.

Entering the teal and pink dining room, you nodded to the poor young thing in the giant black beehive wig and roller skates, you and Robin heading towards your normal booth. Steve followed behind, wide eyed and a little bit horror struck. You slid into the booth and grabbed the menus out of the rack at the table, handing them out wordlessly. Robin pushed Steve towards your side of the booth and he begrudgingly slid in, much to your dismay.

“You dragged me out of work…to go to a cheesy themed diner?” Steve asked incredulously.

“Just wait till you try it, Steve, it’ll change your life.” Robin said with a grin, flipping open the menu. You knew that she always ordered something different each time you came. You always ordered the same thing so you didn’t bother to open yours. Steve cautiously followed Robin’s example, flipping around with a wide eyed, innocent expression.

“Alright, welcome to Burger in a Basket, I’m Sylvia, how are you guys doing today?” the voice above you asked. You grinned as you saw Sylvia standing there in the stupid uniform. It was a comfort to know that her life was a little worse than yours. After all, she was such a bitch to you most of the time. That Matt Carther thing gave her plenty of room to get away with being a complete bitch, and it gave you something to use as a tester with guys in town. If they didn’t know who she was or they laughed, then they weren’t worth your time. Sure, you felt bad for her, but she treated you like dog shit for a year before dumping your ass to hang out with Macy Clarke and Nancy Wheeler.

“Hey Sylvia, we’re doing alright.” You said with a slight smirk, resting your head on your palms. Sylvia cringed slightly, but her eyes landed on Steve’s and her whole expression changed.

“Hey, Steve…” she murmured, pulling her lip into her teeth, grinning slightly.

“Hey, Sylvia, how’s it going?” he replied. Of course he’d go for her, you thought to yourself, she’s exactly his type. Just dumb enough to be cute but just pretty enough to hold your attention, with the slightest stink of desperation. You wanted so desperately to roll your eyes, but Robin was watching you with the knowing look, so you maintained your composure.

“I’m good! Can I get you a drink? Or are you ready to order? Do you need a minute?” you wanted to laugh; this was the best service you’d ever gotten at the restaurant. And it was all thanks to Steve.

“I mean…are you guys ready? I think I’ve got it figured out.” Steve said, gesturing to Robin with a nervous expression.

“Yeah, I’ll get the Fourth of July burger with mushrooms and can I get no mustard? Oh, and a diet coke.” Robin said, smiling confidently at Sylvia, who took down the order boredly.

“Sure, and for you, Steve?” she asked sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

“Um…I need a second more, Y/N can you order?” he muttered, leaning over to you. You nodded, surprised that him being closer to you didn’t upset you. It was almost…nice.

“Yeah sure…I’ll get the double hula burger with extra cheese, no pickles, no ketchup, and a triple thick chocolate shake.” You rattled off quickly, enjoying watching her struggle to get everything down.

“Alright, you ready, Stevie?” Sylvia asked and you noted the distinctive blush forming on his cheeks. Sylvia seemed too proud of her work and you wanted to wipe that look off her face. Pride was a bad look for her.

“Can I just get classic burger with mayo and extra tomato? And a coke?” he asked awkwardly, still clearly very unsure of himself.

Sylvia nodded “Perfect! I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment.” She said, turning and skating off, waving coyly to Steve as she headed back into the kitchen. You and Robin snickered, Robin rolling her eyes as soon as Sylvia disappeared.

“Oh my god we should have been bringing you since day one, they never give us that much attention!” you cried with a loud laugh.

“Dude, she wants you so bad oh my god!” Robin added, reaching out to slap his shoulder. Steve lowered his head, shaking his head.

“I totally remember her now…she had a thing for me in junior year, covered my locker in paper hearts. I wasn’t supposed to find out but I did. It was very uncool.” He muttered, shaking his head. You remembered that too, how she’d planned it for weeks, forcing you to help cut out pink, purple, and red hearts. You thought the whole thing was so cringy and weird, but she was dead set that he’d be intrigued by the mystery and sweetness of the action. She thought it was so cute. Barbra Holland unintentionally started the rumor that it was her, but you wished it was you to tell the world. Watching her slink home was worth the afternoons in the library with her calling you stupid for not cutting the heart out perfectly.

“She was just trying to put her feelings out there!” Robin replied incredulously.

“No, Rob, she was being weird. She could’ve shoved a note in his locker, send him a candy gram and Valentine, they do that every year for lacrosse team. She did something unnecessary and creepy to get attention. You’re just a hopeless romantic.” You grinned, reaching out to touch the bright red heart drawn in permanent marker on her wrist. You knew she had a thing for Jennifer Buffet, who worked at the now defunct Starcourt movie theatre. She always drew that little heart on everything whenever she had a crush, it was like she was trying to get caught, you didn’t get that; you always wanted to hide your crushes until the other person showed any interest in you. You wouldn’t usually agree or defend Steve Harrington, but he was right for once. You didn’t mind agreeing if he was correct for once.

“I am not!” Robin cried, crossing her arms over her chest.

You leaned in to whisper to her “Tell that to Tammy Turner.” Robin turned bright red and she leaned back into the vinyl seat, looking away from you.

“Oh was it bad?” Steve asked with a wide, doofy grin. You were surprised to know that he knew about Tammy, but you didn’t question it. Asking questions could reveal something that Robin didn’t want known. You were used to being careful with her.

“Ohhhh yeah, it was a rough year with her pine after that muppet.” Watching Robin pine after Tammy Turner was so embarrassing, since the girl was so straight. I mean the Steve thing was one thing, but the girl dated Tommy H for two weeks between his forty-second break-up with Carol. That’s the epitome of straight bullshit: finding Tommy H’ s awful, crass, and downright sexist attitude and sense of humor attractive and desirable. How Robin didn’t see that was beyond you.

“That’s what I said! She sounds like a damn muppet! Like Kermit the frog or something!” Steve cried, smacking the vinyl and turning to look at you fully. When he wasn’t trying so hard, he was actually pretty cute. His eyes blew wide and his smile reached its fullest capacity, straining to not split his face in half.

“I thought more Ms. Piggy, like when she sang with Elton John. She always like pinching up her mouth at the end of her words, she looks like a wrinkly old apple.” You said, giggling slightly. “Don’t go breaking my heart…” you imitated, pursing and squeezing your lips together, making a tiny ‘O’ with your lips. Steve’s eyes grew impossibly wider and he laughed far too loudly, his head tossing back. You turned to Robin, who was blushing crimson, fully turned away from the scene you were making. Sylvia skated over with your food and drinks, smiling far too much. She placed each order in front of you, angling herself so her chest landed in Steve’s face when she handed his order over to him. He didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy laughing.

“What’re you guys talking about?” she asked, tossing your order in front of you.

“That time you made Steve’s locker look like the Valentine’s Day massacre.” You grinned back spitefully.

Sylvia paled significantly and she reached up to adjust her wig, looking away. “That…that wasn’t me…” she replied softly.

“Yeah…yeah it was…” Steve said between breathes, wiping tears away from his eyes. Sylvia opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She turned away quickly, skating out fast. You laughed hard when she ran off, hunching over in your seat.

“That was so mean!” Robin cried, looking between the pair of you with a stern look.

“She…she deserved it! After everything I dealt with from her, I get to have one!” you replied, shrugging softly as you recovered. Steve offered you a high five, which you took happily. You never thought in your life that you’d be laughing with Steve Harrington. Today was a weird day.

“Eat, both of you.” Robin snapped and you complied equally happily. You loved this place-everything was fresh and made to order. Sure, it was greasy and unhealthy, but you deserved a bit of comfort food once and awhile. Steve took his first bite and let out a very loud moan. You giggled, it was so stupid. And a little cute, you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t. And maybe a little hot. But you wouldn’t admit that.

“This is so good!” he said, muffled by his mouthful of food.

“It’s even better when you’re high.” You whispered, nudging his arm. Steve nodded in approval, clearly into the idea.

The three of you ate in silence, wolfing down your burgers without much of a hum save for the sounds of ice clinking in glasses and small slurps from straws. Burger in a Basket still had glass bottle of coke, the rumor was that they filled them up with every drink and washed them after, since they didn’t really make glass bottles of soda for retail sale anymore.

With only their fries left, the group returned to each other’s attention. To your surprise, Steve spoke first.

“Can I be like honest here?” he said, turning to face you once again. You nodded shortly, shoving a fry into your mouth. “I have like, no idea who you are. I really don’t.” you raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of how you were supposed to react to that news. You swallowed your mouthful, nodding to yourself.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” You replied “I remember you though.”

“Oh yeah, what for?” Steve leaned back in the booth, putting his arms over the seat. He looked to be ready to take in praise.

“I remember how shit you were on the basketball team. How shit that whole team was.” You replied with a chuckle, watching Steve deflate immediately.

“I was, like, the best player on the team!” he replied indignantly.

“That’s not saying much.” That line made Robin laugh and Steve curl further into himself.

“You really should’ve joined the track and field team. You were much better at that anyway.” You added softly.

“On what planet? I’ve never even done track and field.” Steve cracked bitterly.

“Yes you have, we all had to do it in middle school.” You said. Both Robin and Steve looked at you like you were crazy, so without any remaining shame, you pressed on.

“At the end of the year, every year of middle school, we had the grade-wide track and field meet. We all trained on basic stuff-long jump, cross country, shot put for the older kids, and high jump. Then, each grade would compete and the best of those kids would go onto the main competition. We all got a day off to watch and there were free freezies. It was one of the best days of the year.” You explained.

“Yeah, so what? I never competed.” Steve replied, watching you closely.

“Yes, you did.” Steve raised an eyebrow at you. You rolled your eyes and continued.

“You were in eighth grade and I was in seventh. You had won the long jump in your grade level because Jude Armstrong broke his ankle and I had won the high jump. So we both competed. I remember three things about that day: one; that I won the high jump against all the older kids and Tina tried to push me into the mud after I got my medal; that you and Tommy snuck off to smoke cigarettes during the high jump. You both pretended that you’d done it before, and maybe you had, but Tommy was coughing so hard even after that it was so obvious that he’d never even touch a cigarette before.  And three, that that was the year we were all forced to run the cross country race. Nobody had wanted to compete in the race, so they forced us to do it to set an example. I didn’t want to run it, I’m not a distance runner, but you were so confident. You didn’t look nervous at all. And when the whistle blew and everyone bolted, you held back. You came in third in the cross country race and second at long jump, against the odds on both. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.”

Steve nodded. You looked so pretty when you explained the memory, your whole face lit up and your smiled so softly. You looked angelic, it was truly a sight. But the memory itself turned his stomach.

“I remember that…” he muttered “What I remember about that day was my dad telling me that no other place matter except first and that I was absolute shit.”

You felt so bad, bringing it up at all. He looked so sad now, you regretting even commenting on it. “Oh…I’m sorry…” you said softly. Steve shrugged as if it meant nothing, as if he felt nothing. “God, what a dick and you were good too!” you cried.

“Nah, I kind of sucked.” Steve replied, pushing away the compliment with his hands.

“No seriously! We could have used you on the team, Jude Armstrong sucked ass after like freshman year! You showed real aptitude. And you’re built for it, strong legs and a good core. Let guys like Chuck Bronson stomp around the court, you should’ve came and competed with us, you would’ve won something.” You joked, kicking his shoe with your own.

Steve huffed “We got into the county semi-finals last year…”

“Yeah? We won country finals and got fifth in state. Half my team got into state colleges on scholarship based on that alone.” You replied haughtily.

“You gonna get one?” he asked.

“I might, I got a scout watching me. Don’t know if I’m gonna take it.”

“Oh yeah, why not?”

You grinned proudly “I’m hoping to follow in Emma Lancaster’s footsteps.”

“What she do?” Robin rolled her eyes at that comment.

“She got a full ride to NYU for fashion design.”

“You sew?”

You rolled your eyes “I’m the head of the costume department for the drama club.”

“It’s how we met.” Robin added proudly.

“Emma Lancaster founded and headed up the fashion club at Hawkins High and ran the sewing club. She wants to work for designer labels and head up her own one day. I just want to make costumes for plays. I’d work anywhere that paid and go to any school that offered money.” You explained.

“That’s cool, I hope you get it.” Steve said and you noted the slightest hint of sadness in his tone.

“How’s your planning going, Steve, got any ideas yet?” Robin asked, clearly catching onto the tone Steve had in his voice.

“Well…” he looked a little embarrassed as he spoke, but did so anyway “I was thinking about applying to the police academy in Carmel…it’s not a clear shot, but I’d like it more than working for my dad.”

“My uncle works there, I can put in a good word with him if you want.” Robin said cheerily.

“That would be cool. I just don’t know if I’d be any good.” Steve muttered to himself.

“I’d think you’d be pretty good, I mean you’ve got strong morals.” You turned to Robin “Remember when he broke freak Byers camera? He deserved that fucking shit.” Robin nodded in agreement.

“I mean yeah, Steve, you care about people. Like you take care of Dustin like he’s your brother. It takes guts to be genuine and unafraid about hanging out with literal children.” Robin added.

“You hang out with Dustin Henderson?” you asked curiously.

“You know Dustin?” Steve asked, equally confused.

“Yeah, my sister Stacy made fun of him for like a week last year after the snow ball for asking her to dance. I wanted to smack the shit out of her for it, it takes guts to ask somebody out, especially at that age.” You explained, slamming your tall milkshake glass on the table, having just slurped up the last drops of chocolate milk and whipped cream.

“Yeah well he’s got a girlfriend now named Suzie.” Robin said. Steve’s attention had turned to the window and you heard a small gasp.

“Shit, Keith’s here, I gotta run.” He pulled out his wallet and slapped a twenty dollar bill on the table before sliding out of the booth.

“Don’t get in shit, dingus!” Robin called after him.

He spun around quickly, jogging backwards “If you get me fired, I’ll kill you.” He looked you over slowly, a lopsided grin pulling at the corner of his mouth “I’ll see you around, Y/N?”

“Yeah, sure.” You smiled. Steve nodded happily and his back slammed into the poor dish boy, stumbling slightly before scampering off.

As soon as he was gone, Robin turned to you with a devilish grin “He likes you.” She giggled, reaching out to poke your shoulder.

“Good for him.” You replied, trying to seem confident and uncaring about the whole situation. Internally, you were utterly rocked. He’d gotten to you. You’d drunk the Steve Harrington kool-aid. He was deeper, more genuine, honest, and cooler than you’d ever expected him to be. You were utterly intrigued and now you had to know more. But you weren’t going to admit it now, not when Robin was being so cocky about it.

“I think you like him toooo!” she said in a sing-song tone.

You scoffed “No, not really.”

Robin saw right through you. But there was no sense in arguing when you were like this. You had too much pride to admit it now, especially with Sylvia floating around, looking for any excuse to rip the rug out from under you. But she had an idea.

“So, listen, I’m not working tomorrow and we haven’t hung out in forever. Wanna have a sleepover tonight?” Robin asked, pulling out cash from her wallet to cover herself and you, since she owed you money from the last time you’d gone out to eat.

“Sure, I’m not babysitting the brat tomorrow.”

“Great! You want to rent a movie or something? I get a discount at Family Video.”

You knew what she was doing, but you went along with it. No sense in calling her out now when she had a plan, it wouldn’t stop her anyway.

“Eh, whatever. I’m good either way.” You replied breezily.

“I wanna rewatch Carrie so let’s head over. Maybe grabbed some snacks too, I want some sour belts.” Robin said, climbing out of the booth and grabbing your hand, pulling you out. You didn’t really like horror movies and you really hated sour belts, they weren’t even sour, so you knew Robin was milking your ambivalence for all it was worth. What she didn’t know is that you actually kind of liked Carrie and you had a new dress that needed fitting and Robin would be the perfect model for it. Karma was a bitch.

Robin dragged you all the way to Family Video and inside, grinning at Keith and watching him blush as you passed by. He’d told you that he loved you the first and only time you hung out. You never called him back and Robin had to explain to him that saying I love you on a date that wasn’t even a date is the wrong move. Now, he wouldn’t even speak to you, which you didn’t mind.

“Y/N! Go gather as many packs of sour belts as you can get your hands on! I’m gonna find Carrie in the back!” Robin instructed.

“Get something fun too! Like the Princess Bride or something! Something I’ll actually watch!” you called after her. Robin flashed you a thumbs up and you sighed, turning on your heel and heading to the checkout line, grabbing lime green packs of rainbow striped, sugar coated candies off the rack and clutching them to your chest.

Robin found Steve in the back and, with very little pushing, sent him out onto the floor to talk to you. It only took two tries from him to get the courage to go and talk to you.

And again, he scared the shit out of you. He tapped you on the shoulder and you jumped a foot in the air, dropping all the sugary treats.

“Shit sorry!” Steve cried, dropping to his knees to clean up the mess.

“It’s okay!” you replied quickly, following suit. He shouldn’t have to clean up your mess after all. Your hands both rushed to grab the packages and when they brushed one another over the last packet, you couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t nice. The briefest chance of touch set your heart aflutter. You felt like you were ten years old again. He handed the packages over quickly, standing up just as fast. He offered you a hand up, which you took, if only to hold his hand for the briefest of moments. God, who even were you? You pulled it away fast.

“So…what’s with all the sour strips?” he asked, looking over the armful of candy you had.

“They’re Robin’s favourite. She told me to grab a shit ton, so I did. She’s grabbing the movies for tonight.” You explained.

“What movies?”

“Robin wants to watch Carrie. I’m hoping she gets something fun too, like Fast Times at Ridgemount High or The Princess Bride. Something funny.” You replied. You’d never smiled so much in a day, your face was starting to hurt but with Steve you couldn’t help it!

“Oh yeah? Having a sleepover or something?” that cocky Steve Harrington attitude was coming out, but it wasn’t making you as nauseous as it usually would, which was very odd.

“Yeah kind of. Which means Robin’s gonna wanna watch horror movies, eat so many of these until she pukes, and sneak malt whiskey from her father’s liquor cabinet.” You said, not hiding the slight disdain in your voice.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna hem the dress I made for the Roenke County theatre’s production of Romeo and Juliet, sip vodka from my flask, and take away the sour belts when Robin gets sick.”

“Sounds fun?” Steve questioned.

“It probably won’t be,” you chuckled “But it’s not the worst way to spend a night.”

“How’d you think an evening with me would chalk up? In comparison I mean.” Steve asked, his hand coming to the top of the low black shelf to lean into you.

“Well I guess it would depend, what’s your plan?” you asked with a grin.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured softly, smirking far too confidently. You didn’t mind though, you knew what was underneath it all.

“Well, I’d have to think about it…how about you call me sometimes and we’ll talk about it.” You replied slowly, looking him up and down.

“Anytime, you got a pen?” Steve said. You nodded, pulling one out of your purse and grabbing his arm. You scribbled out your number on his palm, trying to make it as legible as possible and ignore how big and warm his hands were.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, that cool?” he said as you watched Robin saunter up too confidently, too proud of herself and of what she’d done.

“Sounds good.” You smiled, ignoring Robin’s cocky leer. “You ready to pay for this shit?” you asked as she walked up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Gimme the belts, I got this.” Robin said, eyeing up Keith like she was going to beat him up. Maybe she was. “Wait in the car, okay? I didn’t bring mine, so you’re driving me home.”

You nodded “Got it.” You turned to Steve, smiling softly “I’ll see you around, Harrington.”

“Definitely.”

#stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanon #stranger things au #stranger things 2 #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve x reader #steve x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington au #steve harrington aus #steve harrington fluff #joe keery #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington fanfic #steve fanfiction

[bbyx]

ripple effect - part four

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

"(y/n), my dad wants to know if you want to come over for the rest of the summer?" Ron asks, running after you as you near the portkey station.

"Really?"

You had heard all about the Burrow from your friends over the years. It sounded like a wonderful place. You had been friends with the so-called "golden trio" since your first year at Hogwarts but it was hard to really get close to them because of your different houses.. You were overcome with joy because this invitation meant that they enjoyed spending time with you as much as you did with them.

"Yeah, my dad agrees with us, you shouldn't spend your last two weeks of school alone in a big manor."

"I would love to!"

When (y/n) arrives at the Burrow, the first she notices is how cheerful and welcoming it looks in the dawn light. Then she notices a little woman with the signature ginger Weasley hair burst out of the front door and sprint towards Mr.Weasley.

"Oh Arthur- I've been so worried- so worried"

She then seizes the twins and gives them the tightest hug.

"Ouch! Mum, you're strangling us!"

The woman then goes on into a rant about how she shouted before they left and would never be able to forgive herself if anything happened. You couldn't help but smile at how wholesome the entire exchange was. Then the woman glances at you and is taken aback.

"Hi! Mrs.Weasley i'm (y/n) Deauxville, i've heard so-"

She cut you off excitedly.

" You're (f/n)'s daughter. Your father and I went to Hogwarts together. You look just like him with that hair! How is he these days?"

"He's alright. He's decided to take a couple years to travel around Europe and expand his business now that me and my brother are old enough to look after ourselves." You lie while flashing her an extra bright smile.

"Good for him! You know, your father was quite the charmer during his Hogwarts day, In fact he used to date my best friend at the time, Cassidy Blavatsky, and -"

She dove headfirst into a story about your father serenading a girl next to the black lake while she ushered you into the kitchen. Fred and George grab the newspaper from Mr. Weasley's hands. The group argues about a false article concerning the death eater attack published by Rita Skeeter.

"Blimey, Ron, looks like (y/n)'s stolen the love of your life." George says, staring at the paper, hiding a smile.

"Always knew those bulgarians had a thing for veelas." Fred comments, his eyes never leaving the newspaper. You yank it out of your twin's hands.

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Your eyes scan the paper until you find it. It's that picture that Rita Skeeter took of you and Krum shaking hands after the game. Below it reads:

HAS BULGARIAN QUIDDITCH STAR FALLEN FOR REAL ESTATE HEIRESS?

After his defeat last Sunday, Viktor Krum was spotted canoodling with millionaire (f/n) Deauxville's daughter. Witnesses say that they saw her trying to cheer the seeker up after Bulgaria's staggering loss . Miss Deauxville is currently in her fourth year at Hogwarts while Viktor Krum is in his last year at Durmstrang. The Daily Prophet has reached out but both of them have declined to comment on the matter. Could this be the wizarding world's new power couple? Stay tuned for more information.

"You've got to be kidding me! I'm going to fucking murder her!"

"Murder who?" Harry says as he grabs the paper from your clenched fists.

"Rita Skeeter. She's the one who wrote this bullshit article."

"That picture looks pretty real to me." Ron asks, eyebrows slightly raised. You glance at Harry and he looks hurt, you brush it off.

He's probably just tired.

"Yes, but all we did was shake hands after the game. Everyone was shaking hands with everyone and I was trying to get out of there and-"

Hermione cuts you off.

"You don't have to explain yourself (y/n), we believe you." You smile relieved.

"Mrs Weasley, Hedwig hasn't delivered any letters, has she?" Harry asked.

"No there hasn't been any post at all dear."

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other then at you. Ron grabs your hand.

"C'mon, let me give you the royal tour."

You head up with them but instead of showing you around they go straight into Ron's attic bedroom.

"What's up, Harry?" says Ron.

"There's something I haven't told you." He starts. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Ron and Hermione's faces contorted between expressions of terror, shock and worry.

"What scar? It's probably just infected or something." They look at you incredulously.

"Oh shit you mean like the scar!"

"It hurts whenever Harry is near You Know Who." Hermione says.

Ron looks dumbstruck. "But - he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-How? I mean - last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?

"I'm sure he wasn't in Privet drive" Harry said "But I was dreaming about him ... him and Peter - you know Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill ... someone."

Hermione and Ron looked horrified. You were very lost.

You Know Who? At Hogwarts? Worm tails? Are they high?

They kept talking, forgetting about you. You were lost in thought trying to piece what they had just said together. They said something about Professor Trelawney, a prediction, more about the worm tails and something about being serious. Hermione gasped and dropped Crookshanks. They all looked at you with worried expressions.

" I am being serious." You answer quickly. Ron almost dies trying to stifle his laugh.

"No not serious, Sirius, as in Sirius Black." He chokes back.

"Like the murderer?" You say, confused.

"He's not a murderer! He's my godfather." Harry says defensively.

"What are you talking about Harry?"

He sighs and looks at Hermione and Ron.

"I reckon we should tell her." Ron answers.

" Tell me what?"

Harry starts "Well,um, last year, you remember Profesor Lup-"

Hermione interrupts him. "No, Harry, you have to start from the very beginning."

For the next two hours, you sit barely saying a word as they recount their adventures from the past three years. When they finish, Harry slightly shakes your shoulder.

" You okay (y/n)?"

"Yeah, yes i'm okay it's just a lot to take in." You answer shakily.

"Yeah um sorry for dumping all that on you" Harry says looking straight into your eyes.

" No, I'm honored that you would trust me with all of this. But why? I mean why tell me?"

Ron and Hermione look away from your eyes while Harry blushes.

"No.. um no reason we just wanted to burden you with this information for the rest of your life." He stutters a little bit.

"C'mon Harry let's go play some Quidditch. We can do three on three, Bill and Charlie, Fred and George too. You can try out the Wronski Feint..."

"Ron! Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch! He's worried about Sirius and.. And" Hermione fumbles for words.

" Yeah, I want to play Quidditch!"

She rolls her eyes at him and mutters "Boys".

The last two weeks of summer spent at the Burrow were wonderful. You had grown so much closer to Harry, Ron and Hermione and were almost sad to go back to Hogwarts because it meant seeing them less. As Mrs.Weasley hugs you goodbye on the platform you hear Charlie and Bill mumble something about " it's gonna be an interesting year at Hogwarts".

You, Harry, Ron and Hermione climbed on the train and went hunting for an empty compartment.

Almost as soon as you sit down in your compartment do you hear a familiar snobby voice coming down the hallway.

"...Father considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts you know. He knows the Headmaster..."

The sound of Draco's voice made your blood boil. You were still angry with him about what he had said during the attack at the world cup.

Just then Neville and Seamus walked into your compartment.

"Did you two go to the World Cup?" Ron asks the boys.

Seamus nods and Neville sighs.

"Gran wouldn't let me get tickets."

Seamus pipes up "Hey (y/n) I heard you were dating Krum, think you could get me his autograph."

"Oh god I'd forgotten all about that. Seamus it's not true, just some gossip columnist having some fun."

Seamus looked deeply disappointed.

"We saw him right up close, as well," Ron said. "We were in the Top Box-"

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."

Draco slid into the doorway.

"Don't remember asking you to join us Malfoy" Harry said coolly.

"Not here for you Potter I want to speak to (y/n)" He looks at you with those icy grey eyes. " Why aren't you sitting with us? Why are you hanging around these-" He stops.

"What is that?" Draco points to Ron's second hand dress robes draped over Pigwidgeon's cage. He seizes it before Ron has a chance to put it away. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle start making fun of it while poor Ron turns beet red.

You tune it out trying to think of a simpler time when Draco wasn't such an asshole when he says something that catches your attention.

"So... going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know... you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won..."

"What are you talking about?" Snapped Ron.

"Are you going to enter?" Draco continued. " I suppose you will, Potter? Never miss a chance to show off, do you?"

"Either explain or go away, Malfoy." Said Hermione. A flash of delight swept across Draco's face.

"Don't tell me you don't know? You've got a father and a brother at the Ministry and you don't know? My father told me about it ages ago... heard it from Cornelius Fudge himself. But then maybe your father's too junior to know about it, they probably don't talk about important things in front of him. If you really want to know, just ask your dear friend (y/n)."

"Draco, leave." You say looking him straight in the face. His smirk slightly falters and he slides out the compartment. Ron breaks the glass in a fit of anger.

"What was he talking about (y/n)?" Hermione snaps.

" I have no clue, I swear."

"What about that deal with the minister? What did he want?" Harry asks you.

You tell them about the deal, about Fudge's strange words and the ridiculous price they paid. After that the ride was strangely silent. Hermione was reading, Harry was sleeping and Ron was still too furious to speak.

"I'm gonna go see Daphnee and Millicent." You whisper to Hermione.

"Allright, say hello to them for me."

You head down the hallway and hear the voice of the last person you want to see right now, Draco Malfoy. Without thinking, (y/n) throws herself into the nearest compartment and hits someone with her elbow. One of your brother's friends, Jeremy, you think his name is. Red liquid starts seeping out of his nose incredibly fast.

" Merlin! I am so so so sorry. Oh god, is it broken?"

"Ah if it isn't my famous little sister, breaking hearts and noses, I see?" Nick chuckles.

Of all the compartments in this goddamn train, I just had to jump into his.

There are six boys in there: Nick, the unfortunate Jeremy, two seven year Slytherin boys playing wizard chess, one Ravenclaw boy sleeping and Cedric Diggory.

"How's Krum doing, by the way?" One of the Slytherin boys asks, not looking up from his game.

"Bloody Hell!" Jeremy mumbles as blood streams out of his nose.

" You look like a bloody hell." Says the Ravenclaw boy, having just woken up.

"Fuck you, Xavier" Jeremy says while spitting out blood.

" I'm so sorry, is there anything I can do to help?"

"You can start by getting the fuck ou-" Jeremy looks at you in the eyes and stops. His face softens. "Nevermind."

" What are you doing in here anyways?" Asks your brother.

"Hiding." You say quickly.

" He looks like an extra in The Shining, let's get him cleaned up." The Ravenclaw says while yawning. Everyone looks at him for a second before he elaborates.

" It's a muggle horror movie."

All the boys leave the compartment with a trail of blood following them, except Cedric.

" So you and Krum, huh" He huffs.

" Don't tell me you actually believe that crap."

" I don't know, could happen, he's famous and all." Cedric mumbles. Why was he acting like this? What did it matter to him?

"Well it's not happening, all Krum does is sulk and play Quidditch."

"What about our date, is that happening?" He flashes you his signature lopsided grin and your mind blanks.

"Date? What date?" You say slowly as you remember that night and the campfire. "Oh right! I didn't think you were serious about that."

He cocks his head slightly to the side. "What do you mean?"

"I thought it was just a conviennent way to get out of that dare because, you know, i'm part ve-"

"First weekend at Hogsmeade?" Cedric blurts out, giving you a shy smile.

"Sure." You answer while sliding the door open. Something hits you in the back of the head. You pick it up, it's a chocolate frog. You look back up at Cedric who's grinning.

"Heard they're your favourite." He says.

(y/n) laughs.  You're taken aback by his thoughtfulness because chocolate frogs are your absolute favorite candy. "Chocolate frogs are everybody's favourite."

" No, I'm more of a licorice wand type of guy."

You pretend to gag. "Cedric! Ew no. That's disgusting, licorice is horrible. I might have to reconsider this whole date thing." You tease. He shakes his head and smiles.

"But anyways, thank you, for the frog." You walk out and set off trying to find Daphne and Millicent.

Finally you stop at a compartment at the back of the train. As soon as the door slides open a flash of bouncy red hair sweeps you into a hug.

"(y/n)! Where have you been! We thought you missed the train!" Millicent shrieks at you. You peel out of her hug and go over to hug Daphne. You stop when you notice a third girl with thick chestnut hair in the compartment.

"This is my little sister Astoria, she's starting Hogwarts this year." Daphne

" Oh hello Astoria, I've heard all about you. Are you excited about going to Hogwarts?" You offer the girl a welcoming smile. Except for her hair colour, she looked like a clone of Daphne with her cyan blue eyes and her small round mouth.

" Is it true?" The small girl asks, her eyes full of curiosity. Daphne looks slightly embarrassed.

"About Krum? No! God has everyone on the planet read that dumb article?"

"No, about you being a Veela." Astoria says very fast.

"Oh, uh yeah. Well part Veela anyways. My grandma on my dad's side was a Veela."

"That's fascinating." She says dreamily.

"Not really, I can't do any of the cool shit." Daphne shoots you a look. " I mean any of the cool...stuff. I can't turn into a bird creature or" You start waving your hands in an overly mystical way. " Enchant men into falling in love with me. The only thing I got is glossy hair, I guess."

"How tragic!" Millicent snorts sarcastically.

"Sorry (y/n), we saw a Veela on vacation in Germany and my horribly annoying little sister" Daphne says while tickling her sister. " has been obsessed with them ever since."

" Speaking of vacations" You perk up. " How was your summer with the Parkinsons, Milli?"

Millicent turns pale. "Dreadful." She says, over exaggerating every syllable.

"Oh god, say no more." You reply dramatically clutching your chest as the girls burst into laughs.

Millicent's parents had decided to go renew their vows in Tahiti and had left her with Pansy Parkinson's family for the holidays. It wasn't a secret that you and Pansy couldn't stand the sight of each other and you felt terrible that Millicent had been stuck with her all summer.

"Sooo (y/n), I read that article about Viktor Krum and you." Daphnee says with a sly grin.

" You know it's bullshit, right?" You look at her worriedly. All the girls laugh hysterically.

"Of course! I can't believe people actually believe that crap." Daphne gasps between laughs.

" And to make things worse, he is SO not my type." You bleat.

Millicent shakes her head. " I actually think he's quite attractive." Yet again, all the girls start laughing uncontrollably.

The rest of the train ride is giddy and happy as you laugh at Millicent's stories about Pansy and think about Cedric and his perfect lopsided grin just as Hogwarts comes into view.

#cedric diggory #harry potter #draco malfoy #hp and the goblet of fire #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric x you #cedric x reader #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

ben&bev, eddie&richie, and mike&bill all start having kids around the same time and won’t stop fighting over which of them gets to name their baby after stan. like, full fledged fighting. mud slinging. guerilla warfare. ‘beverly how dare your due date be a week before our surrogate’s due date. I know you fucking planned this’. bill’s trying to use his money to bribe the adoption agency into speeding up the process while mike is researching spells and herbal ways to prolong pregnancies and using them on bev. ben originally tried to argue they can just all use the name stan but then eddie said that was the ‘stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life and I have to listen to richie editing his standup routines’ so ben was like ‘ahh...guess I need to turn to psychological warfare’ like he keeps hacking everyone’s electronics, making the lights flicker and locking them out of their wifi and sending threatening looking emails that are like ‘You Know How To End This’. one time he hacked the blue tooth in the k. tozier’s home and blasted that bass boosted monster’s inc song for like an HOUR until richie literally started crying. he retaliates by breaking into the hanscom house and filling every vent with food that bev can’t stand to smell because of her pregnancy. eddie found out bill and mike set up their nursery already and broke in, cut all the heads off the stuffed animals, and left them in their bed like this is the fucking godfather. bev projectile vomited all over bill and passed it off as morning sickness even though he’s damn certain she’s passed that point but mike won’t let him say anything about it. for a solid seven months every time they see each other they literally argue about who deserves to name their baby stanley and do nothing else

but also this is a stan lives au and patty is Also Pregnant and she’s like ‘hey guys what if I....want to name my baby....after my husband’ and they’re all like ‘DAMMIT patty you already won stop trying to be greedy’ and stan is really losing his mind over this whole situation

after a while they decide they can’t keep living like this so they have a formal competition to see which of them knows stan best, we’re talking buzzers, essay questions, lightning rounds, questions that are borderline invasive. winner takes all. this competition rages on for three straight days with no breaks for sleep in between. stan was reluctantly roped into being the moderator and after a while he was a bit terrified to discover exactly how well his friends knew him

richie beats patty out by two points and has bragging rights and a son named stanley for the rest of his life

when little stanley k. tozier is about five he announces he’d rather go by ‘lee’ than his full name. the rest of the losers are absolutely enraged 

#Stephen king's it #stanley uris #reddie #benverly #hanbrough #molly mumbles

[minervahopebeyond]

Blood Petals.

Hi, everyone! I’ll leave here the third chapter :) it’s longer than the other two but I hope you’ll like it.

Chapter 3: Hanahaki.

You know what the problem with him living at Grimmauld Place was? It was that he felt too comfortable. Living with Sirius and Mr. Potter was so easy. They tried to be cool all the time so they never told him to eat more or made him talk about stuff on the table because it was the ‘polite thing to do’. It had something to do with the fact that Sirius felt too mentally immature to make house rules and Mr. Potter seeing himself much younger than he actually felt, so one time they confessed him that he could pretty much do what he wanted if he promised that he wouldn’t do blood rituals in his bedroom. Draco secretly thought that it was so easy to live with them because no other Gryffindors were around so he didn’t found himself in a situation where he was supposed to act as a prat just to keep the balance of nature as it should be.

Because of the events that took place in the department of the mysteries, the Order had decided that it was safer if he didn’t go back to school for the rest of the year and he agreed of course. The rest of them had to attend as always with the promise that Umbridge was no longer the High Inquisitor at Hogwarts and that they shall not have detentions given the already very traumatizing events they had to endure.

Not for all the galleons in the world he would willingly sleep in the Slytherin dungeons until all of this blows over. If someone actually took any opinions that Draco may have into account, they would know that he didn’t want to go back to Hogwarts at all. He didn’t want to spend the last two years of his life studying for his useless N.E.W.T.S., Severus almost had a heart attack when he told him.

“I will not hear you talking as if you’ll die.”

“But I’m going to. It’s pointless for me to study and it’s pointless for me to be locked down in here. I understand if you don’t want me to be near here because they may catch me, but I can go wherever and enjoy this. It’s an opportunity.”

His godfather stared at him with a annoyed expression. Then he continued to drink his tea while reading the book on ancient blood magic that they found at Grimmauld’s library. There were no answers in that one, Draco already read it, but Severus had this insufferable little habit of ignoring everything he said.

“You are going back to school because you are a minor and under my guardianship. And I absolutely refuse to talk about how you will face a certain death if you do not tell me what exactly is the bargain about.”

“ Yeah? Well don’t hold your breath.” He ended the conversation right there and stormed off to his room, dramatic door slammed and all.

After that awful little chat with his godfather, Draco spent four days in Regulus Room. He read, watched the stars in the ceeling, sometimes he would draw too, Kreacher brought him food there... It was like his little cave and he kind of hated it and loved it at the same time. By the fifth day he was woken up by knocks on his door. He stepped out of the bed, still dizzy from sleep, as he was trying to rub his eyes, he opened the bedroom door. Sirius and Mr. Potter were in front of him with a hesitant look in their faces. What time was it, Salazar. He was so tired...

“Good morning” Sirius greeted him.

“Is it?” He responded. Mr Potter let out a soft chuckle then.

“Harry told me you were on the quidditch team.” Draco looked at his cousin confused. He wasn’t getting the point, really. “You can fly on the gardens... everything has wards, you wouldn’t be seen.”

“I don’t have a broom, clearly. I asked Severus to bring mine from school but he refused, said that it would raise suspicion.”

Their expressions deflated then. Apparently this was the only plan that they had thought of to cheer him up and Draco felt kind of guilty for no having even faked a little enthusiasm. Fuck it, he was angry with his godfather not with them. This poor people gave him a roof, no questions asked and that was more than he could say about ‘I don’t care what you think’ Severus or ‘hurt them and we are going to have a problem,Malfoy’ Potter. Really, how come that all the persons he loved were the ones that thought shit of him. Maybe it was because of his awful relationship with his father, he was too familiar with insults as a way of communication.

He grabbed a shirt that was near his bed. It was Regulus’s, like everything he used those days, because they couldn’t send his stuff to the headquarters yet. He left the pants he had on, it was kind of depressing but last night he didn’t even have the energy to put on his pijamas so he had just took off his shirt and went to sleep. He put his shoes on and joined the two man that stood there in the hallway. Mr. Potter frowned, Draco started walking downstairs to the kitchen because he wanted to avoid any comments but he heard them anyway.

“That’s it? All we had to do was knock? I told that to Padfoot ages ago”

“ Well who told you to listen to me? I just said my opinion that maybe space was best.”

He smiled to himself a little bit, sometimes Draco could hear them arguing about the most ridiculous things around the house, all focused on their own opinions, and then Mr. Potter would start laughing, then Sirius would laugh too and they forgot what the hell were they talking about before they started laughing.

When they got downstairs, Kreacher had already prepared breakfast. He pulled a chair and sat in silence, there was a copy of the daily prophet on the table so he grabbed it and started to read it as he drank his tea. Sirius was looking at him, he could feel it. It was a rather uncomfortable silence, until his cousin spoke.

“So... Snape stopped by yesterday. He was concerned, about you. Which I get, though, we were concerned too. He told us about this fight that you had, a few days ago, and I understand if you don’t want to talk to him, because...well it’s Snivellus and he’s a git, I would know, the point is-“

“ I know for a fact that you tried to kill him in your fifth year. If he is a git, what are you?” He heard Mr. Potter choke with his coffee. When he raised his eyes from the newspaper his cousin was staring at him, very pale. “I don’t care for what you did when you were a kid, neither should you care for your stupid rivalry at school. I think I could live without you talking bad about him to me. If you don’t stop insulting him, I will insult Potter in front of you which I don’t believe you would like. Trust me, I have more imagination than you two for cruel nicknames.”

And then Mr. Potter started laughing, which caused Sirius to laugh and the awkward moment disappeared.

“Sure thing, kid. I have training in not insulting Snape because of Lily, I can tutor this one until he stops with the insults.” Draco just nodded at that. Maybe if he was lucky they would have forgot about the real topic of the conversation. But he was never lucky.

“What Sirius was actually trying to say it’s that you have to talk to someone. Whether it’s your godfather or a friend or even us, you need to tell someone what the deal is so you are not alone in this.”

He wanted to die right there and then actually. That’s what he wanted. When Death offered the deal he didn’t realize that he would have to go through all of this. The questions, the meddling, to have people worried about him with hope that he would not die. The most curious thing is that Draco always believed he would die young, he didn’t know when exactly but he could feel it in the deep of his soul, carved into his bones. When Death asked for his own life he was just glad she didn’t asked him to kill himself right there, because Draco wasn’t scared of dying, he was just a coward that couldn’t take his own life. This was easier, it would just happen to him. He hesitated to tell them. On the bright side he would be relieved to talk to someone who didn’t actually cared for him all that much, not like Severus did; on the other side, once they hear what he had to get they would meddle, trying to help him or whatever, giving him hope and he didn’t need that.

“ If I tell you-“ He stopped talking when he heard Sirius do a little happy noise. This was a thirty-five year old man doing a happy noises because his fifteen year old cousin was trusting him with a secret. If he didn’t consider Sirius as family before, from then on he absolutely did. He contained himself so he would not smile before he continued. “If I tell you, you CAN’T talk to anyone about this: not Severus, not the Weasleys, and I can not express it more clearly than this: NOT POTTER.”

Sirius couldn’t contain his chuckles at that, but promptly nodded as if he sensed that the blond boy was definitely not joking. Then Draco turned to look at Mr. Potter who promessed not to tell a soul, under no circumstances, because he owed him his second chance in everything.

“Fine. The reason I don’t want to tell anyone it’s because I know they are going to try to give me hope. I know I don’t stand a chance in this, that’s why I would like to travel and live this two years as intense as I can, because there is no chance, I’m sure of it.”

They gave him a painful look and nodded, they clearly didn’t want to interrupt him and say something that would change Draco’s mind about telling them. So he just kept talking.

“I’m in love with this boy since forever, when it started I didn’t even understand what love was” Draco smiled at the memory of the butterflies that he got at Potter’s first quidditch game, he felt so weird that went to Madam Pomfrey and said he was feeling sick. The blond boy shook his head coming back to reality. “He’s straight. It’s such a cruel joke, really. She didn’t gave me a chance to live, she gave me a suicidal mission: ‘You shall have two years to get the heart you crave for, otherwise you will come to join me in my realm. The love that flourishes in your heart will take your life.’ See? It’s useless for me to do anything else than enjoy what’s left, that was her mercy in all of this.”

The silence was too painful after that, he was dying for someone to crack a joke to lighten the mood... He knew it was all very depressing but still. He had pulled his knees to his chest to use as a shield, to protect himself a little from how vulnerable he felt. Then he heard Sirius muttered a weird word he couldn’t fully understand. His cousin had a very sad look in his eyes. Mr Potter asked him what was wrong, if he could help and then Sirius spoke louder.

“It’s Hanahaki Disease. Runs in the family actually.” He said it with such pity, and even though Draco didn’t know what the hell he was talking about he wanted to punch him in the face for that tone only.

“I don’t know what that is.” And Draco didn’t like to admit when he didn’t know something. He studied everything, knew all the pureblood customs by heart, he read ancient magic books for FUN, Salazar. He should always just know things.

“It’s a very painful way to die, that’s what it is. Death didn’t even hide it, she outright said it. ‘The love that flourishes in your heart will take your life’... the love acts like a seed, eventually you will have flowers inside of you and start coughing petals, when the roots take over your lungs, they will strangle your heart to death.”

Well, Draco did not expected that, to be honest. He just blinked, frozen in place. Of course he wouldn’t just live in peace for two years and then leave. How was he so fucking naive??

“Do you know anything more? You said it was a family thing.”

Sirius nodded.

“ Yeah, A few generations back I had an Aunt that died from that. My hag of a mother used to tell me that’s what happens when you fall in love, you just die. I was so terrified to get it one day that I read all the books in the library where it was mentioned.”

Draco couldn’t help but to feel such admiration...Sirius was psychologically abused for years by this awful woman and he could still find it in himself to speak about it as it was just that: a part of his life that ended. The blond boy wished he could do the same when he talked about his father. Actually, Draco just wished he could talk about his father at all, period. His thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Potter’s voice.

“Padfoot, do you know a way to stop it? Or a treatment?”

“There is none, the cure is only one and it’s exactly what Draco has been told... Unrequited love heals when the beloved returns the feelings of the one with the disease.” He paused a little before he went on. “The only thing I can say it’s the one thing you don’t want to hear.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Just think about it, She must be fair. You could only bring James back because his death wasn’t suppose to happen... what if she really gave you fair game too?” Sirius was getting anxious, he could noticed it because of the way that the words started to come out of his mouth, fast, urgent. “You are so young. I don’t know who is it that you are in love with, if he is older or not , but if he’s at Hogwarts? Darling, he could be into guys and just doesn’t know it. Hell, he could be keeping it hidden because he’s in the closet. You know how many straight-passing bisexual guys I knew at school? Tons, I swear.”

This is what he didn’t want. He cried enough about Potter only liking girls to have someone telling him that maybe he was just confused or outright lying to everyone. Potter couldn’t lie for shit, it was one of the things he loved about him. He was so proud of him for not lying even after Umbridge’s blood quill. When Draco saw that, he knew he would never love anyone else, at least not like this, so all consuming. Funny enough he would die not loving anyone else in any way, apparently.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, kid, but it sounds as if don’t have other choice but to go for it.”

He gave Mr. Potter the most severe look he could manage before answering.

“I don’t have to do shit, actually. And even if he was, by some miracle, into guys, that does-“ His voice was cracking in the middle of the sentence, he would not cry again after this git! He would not cry again after Harry bloody Potter, and least of all in front of Potter’s father and his godfather. He tried to control his voice, to contained the tears but as he continued talking he realized he was crying and sobbing instead. “That does not mean that he could feel the same. So, if you want to be helpful I beg you to not talk to me about this again.”

He left them sitting at the table with guilty looks on their faces. Draco just ran upstairs and lock himself in Regulus Room again. He hugged himself while he tried to stop the tears but he couldn’t stop. He was just so pathetic. Maybe Sirius mother had been right all along and this was what happen when you fall in love: you die. Because even if Draco wouldn’t have gotten the stupid flower disease, this feeling of longing would had killed him. Maybe someday his heart would have just stop working because of all the times it was broken about the same stupid thing. Wouldn’t that had been better than heart strangulation, Merlin.

#drarry #fanfiction #fanfic #prongsfoot

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Tori as Cinders and Jame as Briar Rose. That, thats a great concept. Tori chasing after his sister for thirty years (unlike canon) just gets me.

RIGHT????

Okay, so, some other thoughts I’ve thunk about this.  Obviously I would call it “oh my love (as the cities you were razing)” because that line fucks.

Obviously Tori is both Cinders and Snow/General White--he blames himself for not saving Jame (as all versions of Tori must) and so on his mission to find her, he starts rallying the resistance.  He assumes Jame is dead, at first, while he and Burr and Rowan and Harn and Rose and a couple others escape on a sabotaged ship.  Rose bleeds out from her wounds while she’s pumping oxygen, but with one less person burdening the system means they live to make landfall.  They go into hiding briefly, but then...

Then the Banes start turning out, in huge numbers, slim and lethal soldiers with clawed hands and silver eyes, and black curls shorn down to their scalps.  Tori understands the very first time he sees one, looks into his sister’s eyes, his eyes, and doesn’t see a goddamn thing looking back.  The Bane hesitates, though--not a flinch, just.  An extra moment in raising its arm to shoot him.  Tori shuts his eyes and puts a bullet through its heart, and rips off his glove without thinking, to see the ring on his hand.  Its stone is as white as snow, and he breathes, and breathes, and breathes, and then he reloads his gun and starts shooting Banes.

They are not Jame.  They are not.  He repeats the words until he can shoot them with his eyes open, looking into those silver eyes as they go dim and still.

(Jame, dreaming, sees her own hand rise, holding a gun, pointed at the other half of her soul, and screams no, helpless in the grip of a nightmare, one of the thousands upon thousands of nightmares she sees in fragments, and the hand--hesitates.  And then Tori shoots her--it--them--and she’s gone, snatched away to the infinite mind of a Behemoth, rolling across a planet like a storm front.)

(Her body, the real one, frowns faintly in her glass coffin.)

Tori leads from the front, as General Black.  This is why it’s rather important that he wears all black, you see--the Banes are armored in steel grey with the red crest of the Master for an accent, and an apology wouldn’t bring their general back, if you shot him by accident.  He ignores the way his own people flinch, if he comes up on them too suddenly.  He’s not here to be their friend.  He’s here to be their fixed point, the star they all navigate by, and to follow his ring as it slowly, so slowly, tints darker with each inch the resistance creeps toward the heart of the Master’s power.

Torisen wears his ring on a chain around his neck, after the first time it’s nearly lost in a fight.  He can hide it, that way.  Not everyone is eager to know that their general is seeking the woman they’ve been killing all these years.

(The Banes don’t flinch from him, not quite.  It’s not enough to be noticed as anything more than good luck on his part.  But Tori doesn’t often get shot, either.)

Grimly goes by the name Red Hood and brands his virus the WOLF, and Gorbel and Lyra overthrow their planet’s Snow King and pick his Mirror chips out of their skulls to give the resistance a home base, and the fearless general Aerulan and her wife and guardian, nicknamed Brenwyr the Beast, become known for their gift for evacuating planets before the Master’s forces can hit.  Kindrie, the best healer in the resistance, always knows when someone is going to die, and he’s given the nickname Godfather Death for his talents and his bone-white hair.

The anthem of the resistance is written about Pereden, who slew a Bane Behemoth--except, of course, that he didn’t.  He ordered his people to fall back and then he was never seen again, and Tori didn’t argue when the resistance hailed him as a hero, dead of his wounds.  He needed the support of Pereden’s father, Ardeth, commonly called the Cat.  He kills Pereden quietly for his treason, orders Harn and Burr to burn the body in secret, and bites back the guilt when he replaces Pereden in Ardeth’s affections, as the new Marquis de Carabas.  The resistance needs the money.

(The boy who really did kill the Behemoth died without anyone seeing him, in that same battle, after he brought down the Behemoth through pure dumb luck.  A child, too young for war, really, mourned by only Torisen and his closest advisors, those who knew the truth of Pereden’s treason.  The only witness to Donkerri’s death is the Bane who kills him, and the sleeping soldier watching through its silver eyes.)

The first Bane, the Bane that went wrong and got wired into the Master’s defense grid, is also the Bane whose mind has touched Jame’s the most, in the thirty years of their dreaming.  She knows him inside out, knows that there’s a whole person in there, knows that he’s full of broken glass and hate and the need to kill.  He has some of her memories, some of his own.  She presses the face of her brother, their brother, Torisen, the other half of her soul, into his mind whenever she can, tells him I love him, lived for him, would die for him, protect him.  The Shadow Bane, as he’s been nicknamed by the resistance, coughs out stasis fluid on his knees as Tori’s soldiers pull wires and tubes from the ports on his spine, and then grins, through drenched black hair.

It’s Jame’s face, but she could never wear a smile like that, Tori thinks.  It’s been thirty years since he could feel sick, but he feels the memory of it as the Shadow Bane rises to its--his?--feet.

“So,” he says, standing on shaking legs and ripping the last of the wires away with his own hands.  “You’re the one she loves.”

“Sir?” Burr asks, casting a glance at Tori, as if to ask if they should, maybe, have just shot him.

The Shadow Bane steps forward, wavering, and his starved frame looks nothing like Jame, doesn’t even have her claws, but he has her bright silver eyes and Tori stands his ground.  One of the damp fingers raps him on the chest, where the scarlet glow of Tori’s ring can be seen through his shirt, and the Bane’s voice is low and rasping from disuse, utterly unfamiliar, but the laugh is still bright and cruel when he says, “You’re closer than you think, brother.”

“Take me to her,” Tori says, keeping his voice carefully even.

“She says it’s my choice,” the Bane drawls, tracing his hand up to Tori’s throat, as if considering trying to crush it in his hands.  Tori thinks he might be able to stop him, depending on how much of Jame’s strength is in those fragile-looking hands.

Then the Bane moves, lightning-quick, and Tori remembers that this was their first attempt, known for instability, who wiped out a moon, and then--

The kiss draws blood, maybe his, maybe the Bane’s, spilling iron and salt across his tongue, and their lips are both stained red with it, when the Bane pulls away, a feral light in his silver eyes.

“A blood price, then, for our sister,” the Bane says, bright and mad.

The Bane, mad and cruel and as dangerous to his allies as his enemies, lives three days in freedom, before he dies to save Jame, newly released from her glass prison, so that she can kill the Master.  Jame kneels over Torisen, holding his bloodied chest together as she shouts for the resistance, shouts for a medic, and gives the Bane a nod of gratitude as the light goes out of his silver eyes.  

It’s only her long hair, falling almost to her waist, that saves her from being shot on sight, when Kindrie and the survivors of Tori’s original seven storm into the throne room.

“Who are you?” Kindrie demands, holding up a hand.

“I’m--” Jame’s voice fails her, looking at the Banes dead around them, the one in black, the many in silver and red, her hands covered in gore with her ring ablaze on her finger, and then she says, “I’m Tori’s sister.  He needs help.”

Kindrie presses his lips together, hesitates, and then says, “Arrest her.  I’ll see to the General.”

Jame is still in chains, sitting at Tori’s bedside, when he finally wakes up nearly two weeks later.  No one can look at her.  Only a few can bear to speak to her.  Tori reaches blindly for a gun, when he comes around, and then he blinks and sees the long black hair bound back into a braid, the shackles around the slender wrists, and he says, “Don’t tell me they chained you up.”

“I’m afraid so,” Jame says with a wet laugh, and she shakes her wrists to make her chains clink.  “Hello, brother.”

#kencyrath #chronicles of the kencyrath #the mechanisms #once upon a time in space #as the cities you were razing #OH OKAY I SEE I HAD MORE THOUGHTS THAN I THOUGHT I DID #hm actually this au absolutely fucking slaps. maybe i will turn it into a real fic. #some questions that i have decided to ignore include! #'where are the mechanisms' they're not here. the only people with the right energy for those lunatics are jame bane tori and kindrie #and i already used them #if you want an au where tori has a morals switch and jame isn't captain that's a different thing #'why is bane a guy' idk gender's fake. he's a clone of jame don't ask questions. #'where's the dreamweaver' no idea! long dead maybe! maybe one of the three little pigs! #'what's up with ganth' idk fuck him #I AM COMPLETELY OBSESSED WITH THIS THOUGH #LIKE NOT TO TOOT MY OWN HORN HERE BUT BANE AS SLEEPING BEAUTY WAS BRILLIANT #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #seirnarei #asked and answered

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 26 and the epilogue of don’t read the last page are here!

masterpost

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

Thank you to everyone who has been reading and following along with this fic! Your support means the world to me.

november 1st

On the way home from the movie premiere, Anna was strangely quiet, her head against Kristoff’s shoulder and both hands on her stomach. It wasn’t until they were at home once more and he was helping her out of her gown that she said softly, “I don’t want to have the baby here.”

His hands stilled on the laces. “What do you mean here?”

“In LA.”

“But this is where your doctor is,” he said, frowning as she stepped out of the dress.

“Yeah. But I...I don’t know. Maybe this is crazy, but-- well, he mentioned a while back that in case we were ever up visiting your parents and something went wrong, that he used to practice up there, and he knows someone, and…”

Kristoff moved to stand in front of her, cupping her face in his hands as she looked up at him with worried eyes. “Why don’t you want to have the baby here?”

“Just...they’re all going to be there. All the photographers and reporters trying to be the first to get pictures, and I just...I don’t want that to be part of it. I want it to be just us. Do you think...do you think maybe we can figure it out?”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll call my mom tonight, see if we can stay up there with them.”

“But you have clinicals--”

“Just a couple more days, then my exams aren’t til the first week of December. And I still have days off allowed, so after the fourth, we’re good to go.”

She heaved out a sigh of relief. “I’ll call the doctor up there first thing in the morning. Are you sure your parents won’t mind?”

“Are you kidding me? They’re gonna be over the moon. Ellie, too.”

“And your brothers?”

“Nate’s already bought him and Liam both ‘world’s best uncle’ t-shirts. And Lilly, honestly, is gonna be pissed that she won’t be home til after he’s born. She’s already talking about just skipping her last week of classes to come home.”

Anna broke into a wide smile. “So...we’re doing this? I mean, assuming Milo doesn’t decide to make an appearance in the next three days?”

“Don’t jinx it,” he teased, leaning down to kiss her.

---

november 8th

Anna had been having a hard time sleeping the last month or so, but the past week had been nearly unbearable. Tonight she’d given up on it altogether and had rolled out of bed a little after midnight. Kristoff, who’d practically been sleeping with one eye open the entire time she’d been pregnant, had sat up immediately, but she’d kissed his cheek and said, “Go back to sleep, honey. You’ll be up all night with me soon enough.”

Now she found herself sitting-- well, leaning, really-- on his parents’ sofa watching Friends reruns and steadily making her way through a pint of pistachio ice cream. A creak came on the stairs, and she winced; preparing to make her apologies for waking up whoever it was. Before she had even turned around, though, Kristoff’s father said, “Only me, kiddo. And I’m up and down all night, anyway.”

After a minute, he joined her on the sofa with his own pint of ice cream. “What’s keeping you up, then?” he asked.

“Aches and pains and a little monster determined to turn my ribs into dust.”

He chuckled at that. “How you feeling besides that?”

She shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “Just...tired, I guess.”

“Understandable.”

The cramp in her lower belly worsened again, and she winced, shifting in a fruitless attempt to get more comfortable. Cliff noticed her movement and wordlessly handed her a throw pillow. “Thanks,” she sighed, setting it behind her back. 

For a while, they watched the show in companionable silence, occasional faint bursts of laughter escaping them. When it switched to an infomercial, though, Cliff cleared his throat and looked at her. “You have to excuse me, Anna, for being so quiet. You know I’m not really one for words.”

She winked at him. “It’s alright. Your son takes after you.”

He smiled and reached over to pat her hand. “I think he turned out pretty okay, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “He really did. I hope Milo does, too.”

Cliff nodded slowly. “Are you nervous?”

She’d been doing her best to hide it, but when he looked at her like that with his voice so gentle and his eyes so soft-- “Yes,” she admitted. “About-- about not just, you know, the labor part, but...what comes after. I guess I just...don’t know how to be a mom.”

He gave her another long, thoughtful nod. “Can I tell you a secret?”

She raised an eyebrow, inviting him to go on.

“I still don’t know how to be a dad. And I sure as hell don’t know how to be a granddad. But that’s the thing, kiddo-- nobody really knows. You just do your best to love ‘em and get them on the right path, and then…” He shrugged. “I guess the rest kinda follows.”

Anna felt her eyes begin to sting with tears, and without her having to say anything, Cliff moved to sit closer to her, pulling her into a hug. “And I want you to know, sweetheart,” he said softly, patting her shoulder, “that I think your mom and dad would be just as excited-- just as proud-- as I am.”

They held onto each other for a little while as Anna sniffled into his shoulder, but then another cramp started up, and she pulled back with a hiss. Cliff raised his eyebrows. “How long have you been hurting like that?”

“Oh, since I guess around lunch? But it’s fine, really, I pretty much never stop being achey at this point.”

“I’ve been down here with you for nearly forty-five minutes now, and even without my glasses I can tell it’s been hurting you more and more as time goes on.”

Anna frowned. “Well, that’s how this whole thing kinda works, isn’t-- ow, Jesus fucking-- sorry, Cliff.”

He squeezed her hand until the moment passed. “I think,” he said, his eyes warm, “you better go wake your husband up.”

---

november 9th

“I got here as fast as I could!” Sven panted as he burst into the room. “Tell me I didn’t-- oh, shit!”

“You’re really not supposed to use potty language like that around kids, you know,” Anna said, her eyes bright as she looked up from the bundle in her arms to smile at him. 

Sven stood frozen on the doorstep for a moment longer until Kristoff chuckled and said, “You wanna meet him?”

That was all it took for Sven to spring into action, and a moment later he was leaning over the side of the bed, getting as close as he could to the sleeping infant in Anna’s arms. “Shi-- shoot, man,” he breathed. “You got lucky.”

“I know I--”

“He got Anna’s nose.”

Anna burst into laughter. “Kristoff’s nose is just fine.”

“That’s the hormones talking. Can I hold him?” he asked eagerly.

When Elsa returned from the cafeteria a few moments later carrying a tray of coffees, for a moment they glared at each other, eyes narrowing, in a silent debate about whose turn it was to hold the baby, but then he squirmed in Sven’s arms and began to wail.

Sven handed him back to Anna immediately, who rolled her eyes. “He’s just hungry,” she teased. “What happened to you being the most competent godfather of all time, huh?”

“Part of being a good godfather is knowing when it’s time to pass him back,” he said magnanimously as Anna began to feed the baby. “Like right now, because I can’t do that.”

She laughed. “Okay, okay, point taken.”

---

Later, when it was just the three of them again, Kristoff moved to sit beside his wife on the bed. Anna snuggled happily against his side and carefully set the baby on his lap.

“Hey, Milo,” Kristoff whispered, reaching down to trace a finger over his son’s tiny hand. “Happy birthday.”

Milo Clifford Bjorgman-- that's what they'd decided on; his father had cried when they told him as he held his grandson for the first time.

Anna smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “We did a pretty good job, huh?”

“You’re the one who did the hard part. Even if you didn’t know that it was going on until-- what, one A.M.?”

She giggled. “If it wasn’t for your dad, I might have just had him on the kitchen floor.”

“Thank god he found you then,” Kristoff said drily. 

“It kinda worked out, though. That meant I was only worried about you passing out for a couple of hours.”

He was distracted from replying as Milo blinked sleepily and peered curiously up at him. “Hey, buddy,” Kristoff whispered. “How’s it going?”

Anna leaned her head against his shoulder. “Do you think he likes us?”

“Judging by how much he’s already eaten today, he definitely likes you.”

She giggled. “He sleeps better when you’re the one holding him, though.”

His lips tugged upwards into a smile. “Do you think so?”

“Oh, definitely. He gets that from his mama.”

Kristoff turned and kissed the top of her head. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Yeah. But it bears repeating, I think.”

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair. “I love you two more than anything in the world.”

She smiled and turned to kiss him. “Love you back.”

---

epilogue

“You sure you two are going to be okay?” Anna asked as she finished putting in her second earring.

Kristoff leaned down and kissed her cheek. “It’s just an ear infection, baby. I can take care of him.”

She frowned. “Yeah, but you’re still running a fever, and--”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Bulda said cheerfully as she bustled in, Milo in her arms. “Ellie, baby, why don’t you let Anna do that lipstick for you?”

“See?” Kristoff said as Anna turned to help his sister finish putting on her makeup. “I’m more worried about you two and the trouble you’re going to get into.”

“Us? Trouble?” Ellie said, rolling her eyes. “Please.”

“You’re still in trouble for skipping class, by the way,” Bulda said sternly. “And very much re-grounded as soon as tonight is over.”

“Mom!”

As the two of them began to argue, Kristoff took the opportunity to take Milo from his mother’s arms and walk into the kitchen with Anna, moving carefully to avoid stepping on the train of her long, golden gown. “You nervous?” he asked, passing her the baby.

Anna shrugged as she cradled Milo carefully against her chest. “Nah. I know I’m not going to win anything.”

“I mean, between three nominations...odds are good, right?”

“Nah. Musicals never really win the big awards. And considering one Disney movie got two songs nominated in that category, I don’t know why I even bothered working on an acceptance speech.”

“Well, in my opinion, Anastasia was the best movie of the year,” he replied with a wink. “Definitely had the hottest lead actress.”

“Get down here and kiss me before I put my lipstick on.”

He did so with a smile.

---

He’d grumbled all day about his mother coming by to help him out tonight-- “He’s my son, Ma, I can take care of him on my own”, to which she’d replied, “I know you can, but I just want every opportunity to love on my grandbaby, and I’ll be bringing your sister, anyway”, and Anna had interjected, “And he’s still running fever, Bulda, and I caught him trying to mow the lawn, anyway.”

But he had to admit he was grateful for it now as he sat nervously on the edge of the sofa, drumming his fingers against his knee. Anna and Ellie had both looked beautiful on the red carpet-- well, really, Ellie had looked nervous as hell, but when Anna had taken her hand in her own she’d relaxed for the most part-- but this time around, there was more for Anna to do than just look pretty.

“Now performing another of the numbers nominated for Best Original Song,” the host said, “here’s Anna Arendelle, singing ‘Under the Stars’ from Anastasia!”

There was silence for a moment before the slow swell of violins started to play, and then the lights rose to reveal Anna, looking like a goddess in her gown, as she began to sing, and despite himself Kristoff felt tears spring to his eyes.

“Look at her go,” his mom breathed, and on her lap even Milo seemed enraptured.

Anna finished the song to uproarious applause, and damn, he wished he’d protested harder about her telling him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going to the Oscars with a fever, because right now what he wanted more than anything was to run onstage and scream, “That’s my wife!”

Fifteen minutes later, when all five of the nominees for ‘Best Song’ were announced, his mother reached over and squeezed his hand as the camera landed on Anna and Ellie in the audience. They waited with bated breath as the announcer said, “And the Oscar goes to…’A Garden Full of Butterflies’ from To Those Who Wait!”

Both of them sat back with a sigh. “It’s alright,” Kristoff said, “there’s still the other two, right? And those are a bigger deal.”

Milo gurgled in agreement.

If he was being honest, Kristoff didn’t really give a shit about the rest of the ceremony-- he’d seen some of the movies with Anna, but in his opinion, most of the shit nominated for these awards was just depressing as hell-- and so he distracted himself from the waiting by tidying up around the house, straightening the rows of toys Milo’s aunts and uncles had spoiled him with and folding the blanket Anna had given him for their first Christmas together and rearranging the pictures on the fridge so that the one of the two of them on New Year’s was right next to the picture of the day they’d brought Milo home.

“Kris!” his mother squawked as he stood back to admire his handiwork. “They’re doing Best Actress!”

He hurried back into the living room just as the announcer for this award-- Hans, to his amusement, who had been nominated for nothing on his own merit-- said, “And the Oscar goes to...Anna Arendelle!”

The two of them erupted into whoops of joy, Milo joining in with a screech of his own. “That’s right, buddy,” Kristoff cheered as he swept his son into his arms, holding him high for a moment to make him squeal with delight before cradling him against his chest. “Mama did it!”

Anna’s eyes were shining even brighter than her gown as she took to the stage and accepted the statuette. “Wow, I-- wow,” she said, and the audience laughed fondly. “I don’t know what to say, I mean-- I wrote the speech and everything, but I didn’t actually study it because I never in a million years dreamed this would happen. I, um-- well, let me start of by saying thank you to everyone who worked on Anastasia with me, especially our wonderful director Destin Mattias. And thank you to my family as well-- my sister Elsa, especially, thank you for supporting me since we were kids.”

She grinned and looked right into the camera. “But most of all, thank you to my husband, Kristoff, who couldn’t be here right now because he’s taking care of our son. I love you more than anything, honey. Thank you for going on this crazy, incredible journey. I wouldn’t be here without you. Here’s to our happy ending.”

#IT'SS FINALLY DONE #drtlp #kristanna #my fics