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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 10 months

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💄 Anomalous: Chapter Eight

Anomalous: You are attending a make-up artist convention in London, England for your work as a MUA yourself. Little do you expect to meet a handsome stranger at a bar, proceed to ditch your friends with him, have a one-night stand, and then flee because you are late for a convention event. Unbeknownst to you, that will not be the last time you see that handsome stranger, and now that you think about it… you really should have gotten his number.

Warnings: Domestic Fluff, Married Couple Vibes, Unrealistic Makeup Removal.

To Note: Tom Sturridge x MUAFem!Reader, Respect The Actor! (This is Fiction), Reader has long hair for reasons, You can thank @pinksirensong for this lovely mini series.

Word Count: ~2.9k

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You ended up in Tom’s flat a second time, only this time you were a walking deadweight that Tom was currently guiding around so you didn’t trip over your own feet in your heels. Your feet hurt, your eyes burned so viciously they kept trying to shut to get some rest, and you were at the point of wanting to lay on the ground, curl in a ball, and go to sleep. Tom didn’t let you.

“You can’t go to sleep yet, babe,” Tom told you as he guided you into his bedroom and helped you take your coat off. “You don’t want to sleep wearing that makeup and I know you need a shower after the day you’ve had.”

“I just want to sleep though,” You complained, lurching into his chest and wrapping your arms around his chest. You had missed the way he smelled, immensely, and just wanted to drag him to the bed so you could sleep with your limbs wrapped around him. “Can’t we just get to the snuggling now? I can shower later…” Tom chuckled at your sleep deprived rambles and detached your limbs from his body.

“You’ll feel a lot better if you shower, then sleep, Y/N,” Tom chided you, ignoring your grumbles and reaching down to grab your right leg. You pouted at him (which he found adorable), and let him take your heel from your foot, before doing the same to your left.

“I’ll just fall asleep in the shower then, not even sure I’ve got the energy to even bathe myself,” You sighed as you rested your hands on his shoulders for balance. Tom looked up at your face from where he was crouched, noting that you really were moments from nodding off.

“Well, what if I helped you?” Tom offered in sincerity, rising to his feet and brushing his fingers over the bags beneath your eyes. “You are barely standing as it is, when was the last time you slept?”

“What day is it?” You asked. Tom’s eyebrows went up and he sighed.

“Okay, that’s a yes on the help because you are already neck deep in a caffeine crash and I don’t trust you not to slip and fall.” Tom murmured before directing you to the bathroom. He left you leaning against the bathroom sink with a bleary eyed gaze, while he turned the shower on and grabbed several towels. Your head tilted to the side as you watched Tom move around the small bathroom, and you let out a drawn sigh. His eyebrow went up and he glanced at you while sticking his hand under the stream of water.

“What’s wrong?” Tom queried in concern, was this not kosher to you? Was he going overboard already? It certainly was a possibility. You blinked at him.

“You are so hot when you’re doing domestic stuff, you know that?” You stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Like, you could be doing laundry and I’d wanna jump you.” You sighed dreamily and Tom couldn’t help but chuckle at you. That was not the answer he was expecting, but he certainly welcomed it. Especially if you looked at him like that.

“Glad to know, Sunday,” He told you, patting you on the head. “Now why don’t you get yourself into the shower while I go get some clothes for you to change into, okay? I’ll be right back to join you.” You grunted out a sound of acknowledgment and blindly reached for the zipper of your dress, pulling it down before he was even out of the bathroom. Not that it mattered, did he not say he was going to help you? Be pragmatic about this, Y/N, the faster you shower, the fast you can get in bed and sleep. More importantly, cuddle. The cuddling was very important to your brain at the moment.

Dropping the too small dress to the floor and following it with your underwear, you stumbled your way into the shower and stood hunched under the nice hot spray of water. Now that you thought about it, you really did feel kind of gross. You might not look like it, thanks to the costume department, but you sure felt like it. You were in the middle of rubbing foundation and mascara off, albeit sloppily, when Tom slipped his way into the shower behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He nuzzled your neck and you softly groaned, leaning back into his embrace. Oh how you could melt within his arms.

“What has caused you to be this exhausted, Y/N?” Tom gently asked, his fingers trailing over your hip for a moment before he reached for his shampoo. You huffed in reply.

“I was working a runway show yesterday, had to get up early for that, then I hopped a redeye here to make it to the set in time for shooting.” You mumbled in answer, your head dropping back as his fingers combed through your hair and over your scalp. “I, uh— can’t exactly remember when the last time I got quality sleep.”

Tom was not pleased to hear that. It was no wonder that you looked so worn down and tired. You had worked yourself into the ground!

“You need to take better care of yourself,” He chided you, letting his fingers trail along your neck. You grunted in return.

“It’s work, Tom, my hours are weird at times… at least working this one should keep them relatively normal.” You reminded him, reaching a hand to tip toe your fingers along Tom’s jaw. You leaned back into his chest once more. “I just need a good nights rest, which I’ll get because the editors will be running tests tomorrow to see what works and what needs adjusting.”

“Hmm,” Tom hummed, letting the water rinse out the shampoo from your hair and his hands. You scrubbed the rest of the makeup from your face as best as you could before twisting your head and looking up at Tom.

“Did I get all of it?” You questioned, Tom took a moment to appreciate your lovely face before swiping one last bit of mascara clinging to your lashes.

“There, all done,” He replied, running a hand down your back and around your side. Tom smiled at you, thinking that even as sleep deprived as you were, you still looked just as beautiful as you had when he had first caught sight of you all those months ago. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he was going to have you in his arms once more. You closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace once more, letting out a sigh.

“This is a bad idea,” You murmured, your mind thing over what he surely was thinking, what you were both wanting.

“According to who?” Tom countered, leaning his chin on your head and holding you tighter. “You aren’t part of the main cast and won’t hinder shooting, and people in relationships have worked together before.”

“But are we though?” You asked. “In a relationship that is,” You opened your eyes and stared at the water pouring from the shower head. “I mean, I kind of ditched you in your bed with the sheets still warm. Dick move on my part. Especially after you were so nice to me.”

“Well, we could be, if you wanted. I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want,” Tom answered, hoping that you would be interested in further exploring a relationship with him. That sounded nice to you, really nice. So you would see how things would go, after all, you’d be there in England for several months and that would be more than enough time to figure out if you and Tom were really that compatible.

“Hmm, okay, I’ve never had a British boyfriend before,” You agreed tiredly. “Now I hope you have something for me to sleep in because I’d really rather not put that dress back on.” Tom chuckled in agreement and kissed your neck.

“You are lucky that I still have the underwear you left that night.” Tom told you. “I even washed it in the event you came back.” He washed your underwear!? Good god this man was getting more and more appealing the more you learned about him! “I also have a shirt and sweatpants you can wear so no little dress for you unless you want to.”

“God no,” You whispered out. “I am never wearing another dress that is too small for me ever again.”

“But they look so gorgeous on you,” Tom complained into your skin, hugging your body nice and tight. Your cheeks warmed to a sweltering temperature. “In all honesty, Y/N, I’m pretty sure you look gorgeous in anything and as your boyfriend, I want you to feel comfortable.” You shivered at the title and placed your hands over Tom’s arms. “Come on, babe, let’s get you dried off and in bed before you fall asleep standing up.”

In the end, you had to do very little save for stand (or sway) in place as Tom bundled you up in a nice fluffy towel. He was all too happy to dry you off and certainly appeared to like taking care of you in your sleep deprived state. He thought you were positively adorable and just wanted to hug you and squish your cheeks, and nuzzle your face, and— Back on track Thomas. You pulled on your underwear and the clothes Tom had retrieved. They smelled just like him and that made you very happy as you tottered from the bathroom and all but face planted on the bed with a groan. Tom chuckled at you and coaxed you into slipping under the covers, fussing over you and tucking you in, making sure you were comfortable.

“I’d be more comfortable if you were next to me,” You sleepily mumbled, your stinging eyes barely able to look at him. He laughed at you before doing as you asked. The moment he was within your vicinity, you wiggled over and snuggled yourself right up to him with a more than happy sigh. “That’s better.” Tom almost had to pinch himself as you went quiet and didn’t move from where you had placed yourself flush against his body. After nearly a minute of simply appreciating your soft and lush body snuggled up against him, Tom realized that you had crashed for the night and weren’t going anywhere, anytime soon. Despite knowing that you had promised to see how things would go with him, he still worried that he’d wake up to an empty space next to him.

Waking up in the morning, Tom blearily stared at the window adjacent to his bed. Reaching up and rubbing his jaw, his eyes glanced at the clock on the nightstand which read 6:51. A rather good nights sleep, he had to admit, he hadn’t woken up once. Then it occurred in his mind of what had transpired last night and he was instantly wide awake with his heart nearly in his throat. Were you still here!? That question which plagued him, was answered when Tom realized that an arm was tossed over his side and a hand, smaller than his, was dangling near his stomach. His heart swelled in his chest as Tom took your dangling hand and fully realized what position he was in. Sometime in the night, he had rolled over and you had decided to wrap yourself around his body with your face buried in his back.

It was both endearing and adorable at the same time because you were clearly still passed out, but refused to depart from his side. Even unconscious you kept your promise. But Tom, poor Tom was starving to touch you, to run his hands along your body, to kiss your skin, to nuzzle the junction between neck and shoulder. Fulfill all those filthy desires of you he had dreamed of in the last seven months. He softly groaned, knowing that you needed the sleep. But that didn’t meant he couldn’t enjoy snuggling and cradling your body until you woke up. So very carefully, Tom scooted forwards and rolled to face you.

In your sleep you made a noise of unhappiness at the retreating heat, but were appeased the moment Tom tugged your body close to his chest and wrapped his arms around you Your face automatically sought out his chest and you once again pressed yourself against Tom. This made a very pleased smile appear on his face. You were so adorable. Tom’s eyes traveled down your sleeping face to your neck, and then glanced at the stretch of shoulder revealed by his shirt that was a tad too big on you. His fingers tiptoed across your skin as he appreciated how your skin felt beneath his fingers.

It was nothing short of a miracle that he had found you once more, because Tom had never felt as in tune or connected with another human being like he did with you. His fingers trailed along your skin, slipping up the column of your neck and reaching your jaw where he brushed his thumb along the bone. Tom was convinced that no matter how much time he took to appreciate your beauty, he would still have his breath taken away.

As it turned out, Tom, in all his loving and gentle caresses, had drawn you from your deep slumber and you blearily cracked your eyes open to see the fabric of his shirt. You were quick to realize that it was his touches that woke you, and proceeded to softly moan when fingertips glided down your neck and across your collar bone. Tom swooned at the sound.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” He asked as his fingers froze. Yes, yes he had woken you up. But you weren’t going to call him out on that, not when his touch felt so heavenly upon your skin, upon your body. You wanted more.

“I swear to god, if you don’t resume I will mutiny and go find another ungodly hot guy with a cute smile and messy hair to cuddle n’ kiss.” You gruffly murmured, your fingers reaching up and curling into his shirt. Tom chuckled at your threat and did as you asked, returning his fingers to stroking your skin.

“It’s still quite early, did you sleep well?” Tom softly asked, letting his fingers glide across your skin in an agonizingly hypnotic way that left you melting within his arms. “It’s almost seven, you can still get in a few more hours. You probably should given how exhausted you were last night.” You grunted at him.

“I actually feel pretty good,” You replied, wiggling one of your fingers to the hemline of his shirt to trace the muscle and tendon of Tom’s neck. Seriously, though, how in the hell did he look this good!? You now knew that he was an actor, and they had to work to get their body to fit their role… but damn. “I haven’t slept that well in ages.”

Tom was very happy to hear that and you couldn’t help but enjoy the beaming smile on his face. Honestly, the smallest of things made this man so happy it was positively adorable. While you were busy appreciating his happiness and smile, Tom was staring at your lips and wanting to kiss you so bad. Well, he wanting to do many things at the moment, and kissing you was the least of it. Not to mention the most pg.

He wanted to appreciate your body once more, run his hands along your curves and dips, refamiliarize himself with the way you were beautifully shaped. Hell, Tom would do anything to be able to taste your sweet nectar again and watch as you writhed and strained from pleasure. Oh you were a sight to behold and the sounds you made. His memories of your moans and gasps had been tortuous the last seven months, haunting him in both his dreams and his waking hours. Which is how he found himself sliding his fingers along your jaw and tilting your head back.Then his head dipped down and he was pressing his against yours once more. You, of course, had a problem with this.

“Tom!” You hissed against his lips, your fingers digging into his shirt and pressing against his chest.

“What? You are too irresistible!” Tom countered in between kisses you were trying to dodge. You were failing spectacularly, not that you were putting in too much effort in the first place.

“I haven’t even brushed my teeth!”

“Don’t care,” You blanched and he took that chance to deepen his kisses, his teeth nipping at your lower lip. It was clear that he didn’t care that you hadn’t brushed your teeth. All he wanted was to kiss you, and who were you to take that away from him? So you reached up and sank a hand into his hair, curling your fingers around the midnight strands. The next time Tom’s lips fervently pressing against yours? You pressed back, never once getting enough of his lips ravishing yours.

With your lips locked together and tongues darting out in tantalizing teases, those precious sounds Tom had been haunted by, started to emerge. You moaned softly, feeling Tom’s hand run down your side, caressing your body and worming its way beneath the shirt you wore. His fingers stroked your skin, made shivers go up your side. Oh god you wanted him so much right now. So when Tom rolled you both so you were lying on your back with him hovering over you, mouth constantly taking from yours and tongue twisting your own, your arms clung harder to Tom.

Your mouths had to break apart and you gasped for oxygen, having gotten so caught up in his kisses that you had forgotten that you needed to breathe. Tom’s eyes glittered as he stared down at you, hunger within the depths of his irises.

“Are you going to allow me the pleasure of reacquainting myself with you?” A shiver went up your spine. And by reacquainting with you, he meant your body. You swallowed and tilted your head to the side.

“It would be a travesty if you didn’t.”

Date Published: 1/12/23

Last Edit: 4/2/23

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#tom sturridge x you #tom sturridge #tom sturridge x reader

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determinedwriter · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023: Day 13: Infection

The day after I kiss him, Peter only gets worse. His wound is seemingly infected and he has a fever. And now, I don’t know what to do. I’m still stuck in the stupid ditch. I’m so terrified of losing him. Someone has to find us. It’s been well over twenty four hours. Someone has to be looking for us.

Right? “Ro, you have to get out of here. Find help. You can use your powers to fly out of the ditch and-” Peter suggests.

“I’m scared to leave you. I can’t do that. Plus…my arm makes that difficult. And I think we’re both starting to get dehydrated. Even more of a reason why I don’t want to leave you here. What if those people come back?” I reply.

Peter groans in pain. “I’m sorry, Ro.”

I take his hand. “Don’t be. You didn’t cause this at all. I’m gonna…I’m gonna find a way for us to escape.”

“You should try to get out of the ditch for help.” He says.

I should. I had originally tried to do so when we fell down here, but there’s nothing to grab onto and drag myself up to escape. “Okay.”

Running and jumping, I try to grab onto roots sticking out of the dirt, unable to get a firm grip. I attempt this again and again until my hand is torn up, unable to use the other due to my arm injury.

Now both of my hands are messed up. My right arm is in a makeshift sling, likely broken after the crash we’ve just been in a couple of days prior. My left arm is scraped up from broken window glass, my hand now bloody and cut up by the roots I tried to grasp.

So here we are. I lay down on my back after falling for the millionth time, sighing with tears in my eyes. Don’t cry, Aurora. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. You have to be the strong one. For Peter’s sake, you have to pretend you aren’t absolutely terrified and in the worst pain of your life.

“Ro?” He asks, voice weak.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” I reassure him. “I can’t climb up with just one arm free. And now my hand’s all bloody. As for my powers…I’ll try.”

Attempting to kindle a spark in my palm, I find myself unsuccessful. Usually I can get something, but I think the exhaustion, dehydration, and stress of it all has gotten to me. But I’m not giving up just yet.”

I run and jump as I did before, trying to propel myself with my power of fire flight. But with my weakness proves to overpower my attempt. “Okay. Okay, It’s gonna be alright. We’re gonna be fine.”

I’ve said that a good few times now. I don’t think Peter believes me anymore. And I can’t blame him if that’s the case. I’m not the genius my father is. I’m not a soldier like Steve, or a resourceful spy like Nat.

I’m just me. Aurora Stark, the girl who has failed to live up to the name held by both my father and grandfather, proving just how innovative and freaking genius they are. But I couldn’t do the same.

And I’m going to die here in this ditch with my best friend because of that.

Because the apple fell far, far away from the tree.

With the infection now making things a lot worse for Peter, I’m not sure how much longer he’ll live. And with no water, both of us will die within the next day or two if we’re lucky. Not to mention the fact that I’m sleep deprived and hungry too.

I try to convince myself that it could be worse, but I don’t really see how. And God knows I’ll jinx myself if I say something like that. That seems to be how my life goes.

Everyone gets hurt and dies around me. And now Peter is next.

The sweet, amazing, adorable, dorky Peter Parker. Lost to the world because I couldn’t save him.

It’s all my fault.

(Continued and finished in the next part tomorrow)

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neoheros · 4 years

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sneaking out headcanons feat. gym 3 squad ♡ — also this is all gonna be set in an au before or without the quarantine, so don’t leave your house please!! social distancing is important and people are dying!!

kuroo tetsuro

listen LISTEN

sneaking out is terrible and you should never do it because it’s dangerous and risky

and you as the woke and understanding gen z that you are definitely respected that

but , BUT , BUUUUT !

the minute your boyfriend snapped you a photo of him in his car with him rubbing his tired eyes captioned “couldn’t sleep, dreamt of u”

your morals were OUT THE WINDOW and now it was your turn >:// !!!

kuroo: i know it’s 4 am but what’re the chances you’d hop out for a quick trip to chick-fil-a 👉👈

you, purposely taking two minutes to reply: why are you still awake

kuroo, who knows you like the back of his hand: babe don’t lie to me, it’s embarrassing for the both of us x

so you agree !! because it was kuroo, the love of your life, the man you’d simp for, and he’s paying for food so hell fricken yeah

you throw on a hoodie, lock your doors, fluff up the bed to make it look like someone was sleeping in it just in case and you gently make your way towards your window

due to personal reasons, you want to pass away

you suddenly remember why you hated sneaking out and boy — the food kuroo was buying you better be worth it

the only way you were actually gonna get down from your two story house that idiotically doesn’t have a roof ledge was if you grab onto the tv satellite that latched by the sill

from your window you see kuroo’s car parked by the trash cans near your house and he’s got his windshield down signaling at you

mfer pulled out his phone from his pocket and waved as he zooms closer to your figure and he SMILED ?

you were in a dilemma?? and he had the audacity???? the fricken audacity???

kuroo, snapping you the vid he took: babe please you’re so cute you look like a tiny gremlin

you: had me in the first half, not gonna lie

it was a MOMENT for you !! but you just say what the hell and go for it anyways because you only live once apparently and sneaking out with your boyfriend at 4 am was better than sleeping

you grab onto the satellite ridge and you pray for mercy that it doesn’t make a sound or loosen up because if anyone found out you were doing this it was definitely kuroo’s ass on the line

while you’re struggling to get down, kuroo’s just in the car ??? laughing his ass off at your current state and you swear that he’s still taking photos

you get down on the cement safely and instead of him pulling up closer to your drive way naaaah he makes you walk to where he was at 😤

you, getting in the car: if i dump you by the end of tonight, just know that the only reason why i didn’t do it sooner is because i wanted food

kuroo, putting on your seatbelt: we’ll get back together in the morning, i’m not worried

so the two of you make your way to chick-fil-a, get food via drivethru and eat in the parking lot with the doors open and the windows down

he still looks very tired and before you even realize it it’s already 6 in the morning

you catch him yawn every few minutes and he always reassures you that he didn’t mind staying up this late :(

he’s baby

kuroo: lets get you home, are you gonna dump me yet?

you, kissing his cheek: no, i kinda love you

kuroo, less sleepy with a lazy smile on his face: aha simp

tsukishima kei

bro if you think he’s a goody two shoes boy who won’t ask you to sneak out at like 2 in the morning , you are so wrong

canonically, he is the most devious and logical character in the entire anime and if he wants to go out with you before the crack of dawn — he fricken will !!

he’s gonna be so sly about it too, nah, he gon make you think it’s your idea to sneak out

tsukki, texting you a tiktok of homemade shrimp rotini at 2:35 am: look what yamaguchi sent me

yamaguchi, who fell asleep three hours ago and absolutely is not in any state to send tiktoks:

so you’re there like ??????

bruv you were just tryna scroll through your twitter feed in peace, why the hell would he send you that like that’s so uncool

because now you were sleep deprived and hungry

you, close to tears: does your house in hell have a pool or

tsukishima, unnerved: i don’t like the concept of swimming

he’s gonna go on about how he didn’t realize what he did and how he’s kinda sorry for waking your hunger but you weren’t born yesterday !! you smelled BS !!

so you facetime him, ready to go off on how unsorry he is and you can already imagine the shit eating grin he must’ve had on

he answers after three rings and he’s in a MFING yellow hoodie with the dinosaur print in the middle, his hair neatly tucked and you just know that he’s got his keys on his fingertips

you, defeated: i’ve been played

tsukishima, heading out the front door: i deny all accusations

you’re not even upset though because this was a perfect opportunity to try the stability of your roof ledge and tbh? who wasn’t unreasonably hungry at 3 am

turns out climbing out your window was harder than you thought and you may or may not have gotten two new bruises on your wrist just by trying

safe to assume that you fell on your ass and since the universe has a particular hatred towards you, your boyfriend arrived at the perfect time to witness all of it

tsukishima: how are you gonna kiss me when you’re too busy kissing the ground

you, tears on your cheeks: if i wanted a bully instead of a boyfriend i would’ve SAID SO

when you get in his car, the first thing he does is ask if you’re okay though and he’s checking your wrists and hands for any scratches or bleeding because 🥺

tsukki: you’re such a clumsy idiot what the hell

tsukki, kicking down the pavement when you’re not paying attention: 💢🪓

you guys end up going to numerous places because most of the drivethrus in town were already closed

you see him get tired behind the steering wheel and you almost have the urge to offer to drive but you didn’t really feel like crashing his car any day soon so

you: lets just head to starbucks hm? get some coffee?

tsukishima, feeling bad because he knows you wanted to get food: we don’t have to

you, in love with him: if you say no i will willingly walk all the way to starbucks by myself , what , you think i won’t do it

so you guys go there and order a couple double shot espressos with a side of scones and muffins and the entire time you’re just trying not to shiver because name one starbucks you’ve been to that hasn’t been unreasonably cold huh i dare you

he notices this and he gives you his hoodie and ITS JUST THE SOFTEST THING OKAY BECAUSE HE’S COLD TOO BUT HE JUST WANTS YOU WARM

you: i knew it, you love me too huh 😌

tsukishima: unfortunately so

akaashi keiji

AKAASHI IS LEGALLY THE BEST BOYFRIEND IN THE WORLD !!

like he cannot be a bad boyfriend ?? it’s impossible for him to be so ?????? he’s just built that way ????

he’s the ultimate mixture of respect and self love , god was just like “let’s make this one perfect !!”

he’s DRIPPING in love each other juice and he eats kindness for breakfast so ha !

he physically cannot say no to you because he flat out adores you

( except when he feels like you’re wrong or being irrational to which he’ll politely correct you and educate you because that’s on what? that’s on having a healthy relationship ♡ )

so when you hit him up at 5:23 in the morning after a series of tiktoks that he has yet to see and react to you about, he’s kinda alarmed

but then again he’s also not ?? because let’s face it, at this point, he’s used to you spamming his inbox

the last thing you sent him two minutes ago was a text saying “bro just imagine this: you and me at a maccas drivethru with two oreo flurry’s and a box of 20 piece chicken nuggets — immaculate”

and you didn’t really expect him to reply?

it was five am and you were absolutely shit talking but when you saw his face time status go online you were just like ?????

akaashi, snapping you a pic of him under his covers with very tired eyes: it’s 5:27 am

you, sending him back a photo of you and the 2000 piece puzzle you spent the last two hours doing: that’s not a no 💅

he doesn’t reply and you’re not really upset by it because he probably just fell asleep and that was really cute to you so !!

but then two minutes later he’s facetiming you and you JUMP at the sudden ringing

he’s all tired and his voice is groggy and tight but he’s still smiling as he says “i’ll see you in ten”

YOU ARE !!!! PUMPED !!!!!

you won the boyfriend lottery , holy hell

now the only thing keeping you from seeing your man and the mcdonald’s sign was the eleven foot gap between your window and the solid concrete

you’d usually take the stairs but you just know that your mom would absolutely murder you for trying to sneak out when you should be asleep 💆‍♀️

it was either climbing out by clawing through the pipes or not being able to give akaashi a hug and you were not gonna let that second one happen

akaashi, after reading your two paragraph rant on how unnatural it was for your window to be that high: please be careful

you, haven’t slept in 32 hours: screw careful ! i embody elegance !!

in which elegance was screaming every time your pipes squeaked because dear mercy you did not want to die yet

akaashi, who just pulled up your drive way and is now seeing you almost fall to the ground:

you, on the verge of tears: please catch me

AND he does 🥺

it was a close call and he barely even made it to you when you chose to let go but HE DID ANYWAYS

you kinda fell on him rather than landing smoothly in his arms but that’s okay you were just glad you didn’t die

when you both get in his car, he just takes a hot sec to dust you off and ask if you’re okay and he’s so concerned please tell him you’re fine

he’s such a baby please i can’t believe this shit

the two of you end up in a mcdonald’s parking lot with doja cat blaring on the radio and you guys do your best to hold back your laughter as you eat

it was pretty cold and the sun was rising but honestly you couldn’t find the urge to care since the moment just felt so surreal

you: i’m sorry for waking you btw 🥺

akaashi, showing you his new lock screen which is the picture he took of you when he first saw you climb out the window:

you: i’m less sorry

bokuto koutaro

BOYFRIEND OF THE MFING YEAR

i accept no arguments, go cry about it

i literally don’t care what anyone has to say, bokuto is the only man ever ? he’s so deserving of every right on earth i’ll cry

the way that this is the third night in a row he’s stayed up til 4 am and he’s not even alarmed about it

like at this point he’s just accepted that he is nocturnal and that’s that on that !

before he actually had the idea to ask you to sneak out for him, he debated whether or not it was worth it

you needed sleep and you barely got any so when he knew you were resting he absolutely refused to message you :(

but then he also thought about how you would love to have a large dunkin iced coffee right now

and he was already getting ready for his morning fix so why not just ask harmlessly?

if you weren’t going to respond then he’d be okay with that because he knew that you were resting well

but if you were going to answer his consecutive texts with a positive reply then HE IS 🥺 over the moon

you, barely awake: can we get a venti triple shot latté instead , my caffeine tolerance is SHOT

bokuto, snapping you back within a minute: babe you are delusional if you think i’m gonna let you drink that

so it’s 5 am and your parents are in the other room asleep but you know that their jobs start pretty early so you had to get a move on

your room wasn’t that high from the ground to be honest, so you weren’t really worried about falling off

what you were worried about was how dizzy and out of depth the melatonin gummies made you because in order to fall asleep you took 3 and now that you basically forced yourself out of a self induced coma, your body was on the verge of passing away

bokuto tells you that he doesn’t mind if you’re not up for the trip and he’d just bring you back your coffee BUT NAH

you’re not a quitter 🤬 you miss your boyfriend and you are gonna do whatever it takes to spend some quality morning time with him !!!!!

so you throw on a proper outfit, make your way through your window and gently do your best to refrain from yelping every time your hand would slip from the railing that’s keeping your balance

bokuto, pulling up seeing you on your roof: you’re so strong 🥺👉👈

you, barely alive: all for you baby ❤️

he helps you get down from where you stood and he had the prettiest smile on earth i SWEAR when you immediately sank in his cold chest

he apologizes for making you sneak out like that BUT NUH UH YOU DO NOT LET HIM

he is a gift !!! and you knew how tired he must’ve been too since he kept yawning but he still took the time and energy to pick you up 🥺

he fastens your seatbelt in the car and puts the windows up because he knew that the air would get in your face and you didn’t like that

he even brought you a spare hoodie of his because he remembered how much you swooned over this particular fabric

bokuto: we’ll get you some coffee but you can sleep while i drive, ok babe?

you, trying not to cry: are you single because i really want to kiss you

bokuto, kissing your cheek: i’m dating someone i’m sorry

3K notes · View notes

dongofthewolf · 3 years

Text

When You’re Lost in the Darkness, Look for the Light- Chapter 2

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Read chapter 1 here !

After your night with Abby you head down to the cafeteria again to grab some food, still convinced it was all a dream. It’s not until you recognize a familiar face from across the room that you realize it was real, and this time she’s not alone.

Warnings: mild violence, swearing, fluff, just a lot of gay panic tbh

The new chapter is finally here !! All the positive comments on the first one made me so happy so THANK YOU for those :))

BTW that gif of Abby... both eyes open no blink (O_O)

When you woke from your slumber you were almost positive that your encounter with Abby was merely a dream or a figment of your imagination. It was the first time since moving to the base that you hadn’t woken up in a cold sweat; nightmares filled with the echoes of clickers and that piercing sound of ammo clattering on the floor was not an uncommon occurrence. After spending those two dreadful days trapped in a bunker with nothing but a pocket knife and a small handgun, a good night's sleep was something you no longer expected. You shivered as you recalled that dark, cold, concrete room you had barricaded yourself in, awaiting your death with no food, water, or supplies of any kind. It wasn’t until you heard the crashing of pipe bombs in the above levels that you snapped out of your weakened state. The WLF had on a whim decided to clear the building you were hiding out in and saved you. Your rescue was a complete stroke of luck and you weren’t sure whether to be incredibly grateful or afraid for it.

Still groggy from your sleep, you hadn’t even realized the small piece of paper that had been slipped under your door. It was from a page in a notebook that had been ripped out, and on it was a small message in neat, military handwriting: “Had a lot of fun last night :) - A”.

“So it was real!” You thought. That absolute tank of a woman wasn’t just a product of a sleep deprived trip to the communal cafeteria; she was real and every fibre of your being hoped she had enjoyed last night as much as you did.

You neatly tucked the note into your copy of Pride and Prejudice before getting ready for the day (or more like afternoon since you had slept in). After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you slipped on your military issued combat boots and a light sweatshirt before leaving your dorm.

It was still raining outside but luckily the WLF base wasn’t too chilly. Even when it snowed they always managed to maintain some modicum of heat, it seemed as though the wolves could always find ways around the pesky inconveniences of living in a post-apocalyptic world. You never really questioned it though and you knew better than to doubt Isaac’s methods. It’s not like you’ve actually met him or anything, but the stories that you had heard were enough to send a chill down your spine, and you knew that even if you did ask questions it’s not like anyone would answer them anyways.

Fortunately you hadn’t slept in past lunch because you were absolutely starving, so starving that even the shitty WLF base food was starting to smell like heaven. As you made your way into the cafeteria that was teeming with life, there was only one thing on your mind: devouring those damn burritos. Once you finally got some food you quickly sat down to demolish it, amazed at how so much happiness could be contained within the confines of a single bland tortilla and completely oblivious to the staring of a familiar pair of blue eyes from across the crowded room.

“Just talk to her already.” Manny said in a teasing tone.

Abby quickly snapped out of it “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”.

Of course Abby knew what he was talking about; in your rush to completely annihilate those burritos you had failed to notice Abby sitting at a table a few feet away. Abby couldn’t explain it but her heart was racing, the same way it would if she were in combat with a hoard or some Scars.

Manny rolled his eyes “Dude I’m not blind, you’ve been staring at her ever since she sat down. So who is she?”. He relished at the sight of Abby’s nervousness, he hadn’t seen her like this since back when she was still dating Owen.

“Huh? No hablo inglés.” Abby said sarcastically trying to get Manny off her back.

“Fine, I guess I’ll have to ask her myself.” Manny started to get up when Abby kicked his shins from under the table. Manny yelped in pain “Dude! What the hell?”.

“I will literally clock you in the face, sit your ass down right now.” Abby quickly glanced around the room to make sure no one noticed Manny writhing in pain.

Manny chuckled then smiled that classic smug grin while he gripped his definitely-bruised shins “I knew it, someone’s got a crush.”.

“God you’re annoying, I should’ve let that clicker eat you last week.” Abby said in an annoyed tone as she fell back against her chair. Abby felt a tinge of remorse for kicking Manny like that, she knew that Manny probably wouldn’t have actually walked up to you; but she couldn’t have risked it. Abby looked up and noticed Manny’s expression had changed, afraid she overstepped with that last statement Abby was just about to apologize when Manny started.

“What the fuck Abby?! Why didn’t you tell me about this girl, you know I’m the best wing-man.” Manny was suddenly very intrigued, Abby had always been very secretive when it came to her love life so Manny jumped at the opportunity to become her certified dating coach. Plus, not only did Manny have his fair share of experience with women, he also just really wanted to see Abby less lonely. After Owen and Mel started dating along with Leah and Jordan, Abby was stuck constantly third-wheeling the entire group; Manny didn’t think she minded that much, but sometimes it hurt his heart to see her all alone.

“There’s nothing to talk about Manny, we’re just friends.” Abby replied reluctantly, not completely believing her own words. It’s not like you guys were dating, but it felt like a disservice to call what you guys had a “friendship”. The word itself didn’t accurately encapsulate enough meaning for her and despite the fact she was a voracious reader, Abby just couldn’t come up with a word for what you two had.

“If you’re friends, then just go up and talk to her.” Manny knew Abby, and he knew that she always needed a push if he wanted to get anything out of her.

“I can’t… I just can’t. I’m not like you, okay?” Abby was conflicted, waves of doubt started to roll in the more she thought about it. She didn’t want to consider the possibility that maybe you didn’t want to talk to her; that maybe you were just being nice last night and didn’t actually like her, or maybe even that you saw her when you came in and decided to ignore her on purpose.

Obviously Abby was freaking out for no reason, but those small anxious bits of uncertainty that crept in from the back of her mind made her shield of confidence feel tenuous and weak; something she despised.

Manny knew what Abby meant but being the smug little shit he is, he wanted to hear her say it out loud “What do you mean?”.

Abby sighed, “Don’t make me say it.”.

“No, no I really want to hear it.” Manny smiled that famous shit-eating grin, the one he used whenever Abby had to admit he was right.

Abby realized he wasn’t letting go of this “Ugh you know, you can… talk to people.”. Abby could tell by Manny’s face that he wasn’t satisfied with her answer, so not wanting to risk the possibility that he’ll stand up again Abby gave him a look of defeat “and I guess you’re charming or whatever.”.

“Ah! Música para mis oídos.” Manny smiled proudly, hearing Abby compliment him was almost as rare as seeing her without that signature braid. Just as Manny was getting ready to haul Abby’s ass to your table he looked over and realized that you had disappeared, it wasn’t until Abby kicked his shins again that he realized you were standing right there.

You were elbow deep in your third burrito before your dumbass realized that Abby was sitting a couple tables across from yours. “Shit!” You thought, how long had she been sitting there? Did she notice you? No, probably not… unless, what if she was so disgusted by you huffing down those burritos that she ignored you? Ugh! How could you not have noticed her?

You calmly set your burrito down, wiping your face and praying to God there wasn’t anything stuck in your teeth. You figured that Abby probably hadn’t noticed you so you decided to just bite the bullet and talk to her. As you stood up from your seat to make your way over to her table, you quietly whispered to yourself “Come on y/n, don’t be a pussy.”.

“Hey Abby.” She was sitting with a man who you assumed was the friend that she had transferred here with, she mentioned his name last night but you couldn’t place it. He suddenly jerked around to face you with a calm smile on his face, his rugged features and charming personality now making it clear as to why Abby complained about being kicked out of her own room so many nights. Even though you weren’t attracted to him, you understood what all the fuss was about.

“Hey Y/N, I didn’t even see you there.” As soon as the words came out Abby shot Manny a look, the kind of look that meant “don’t say a fucking word.”. However, of course Manny being… well Manny, he grinned and raised his hand to shake yours.

“I’m Manny.” His smile was warm and welcoming as he shook your hand “Please, sit down sit down. Tell me all about yourself.”.

You took a seat next to Abby, your knees just barely grazing each other due to the shortage of space at the table. Even though it was such a small form of contact, you couldn’t help but feel like there was an electric charge connecting you together. You wondered if she even noticed the gesture, if Abby could hear your heart daring to beat out of your chest; if she noticed that small gap between your hands on the table, or if she even noticed the small clandestine looks you were sending her the whole time.

Abby froze stiff as a board when you sat down next to her, and she did her best to maintain her composure when she felt your knee graze hers from beneath the table. This was the closest you two had been and now she could really see the details of your face and your actions; how you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear whenever you were nervous, or how you snorted when Manny thought “Little Women” was just about really tiny people. She noticed how bright your smile was, how it was the kind of smile that could instantly light up an entire room, and she was astonished because Abby finally understood the real meaning of that one Firefly quote about “looking for the light”. Abby realized that no matter what, she would follow you to the ends of the Earth. You were this bright and unexpected light that suddenly entered her life, you weakened her defences and made her feel like a ball of putty, and while one part of her detested that feeling, another part of her never wanted to part with it.

You explained to them how you had been rescued by the WLF and how you were a pretty skilled mechanic. You even told them about how although you loved your job, you desperately wanted to work in the library, because other than the fact that you wouldn’t be covered in grease at the end of every day, you’d also be surrounded by things you love.

The two told you about the “Salt Lake Crew” and how they were essentially Isaac’s top soldiers. It was a fact that left you with about a hundred questions, but you figured it wasn’t the right time to bring up their boss so you tried your best to brush it off. The three of you sat at that table talking for what felt like forever before the cafeteria staff kicked you guys out because they had to clean up.

As they both walked you to your room you were so incredibly excited. You had spent so many months at this boring outpost, spending most of your time reading or crying. Then Abby happened; she came into your life and suddenly you weren’t alone anymore. You were so insanely grateful for this newfound happiness that you just wanted to leap into those insanely strong arms.

Just as the two were about to leave Abby grabbed your hand and leaned down to your height so she could quietly talk to you, “Hey Y/N, can I ask you something?”.

You were so dumbfounded by her hand holding yours that you nearly passed out, you tried to form words but all you could manage was a small nod.

Abby smiled as she stood up and looked to Manny “Hey, you can go ahead I’ll catch up. I just need to talk to Y/N for a quick sec.”.

Manny immediately got the signal and grinned so wide Abby thought his face would freeze like that, Abby knew she was never going to hear the end of this, but she couldn’t really be bothered to care with your hand in hers.

Then Manny was gone, and it was just you and Abby. Her hand was still holding yours and you couldn’t help but notice all the details of them; how she had these small calluses on the palms of her hands, formed from years of wielding firearms and lifting weights. You realized how much damage she could do with them—how much damage she had done with them—but instead she stood there softly cradling your hand in hers, just lightly squeezing it before she looked at you with those same pools of blue you wanted desperately to drown in.

“Hey so I know we kind of just met last night, but I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with you and…” Abby paused to contemplate her words before starting again “and I was wondering if we could do this more often. I’m doing some work for Isaac tomorrow but I’ll be back later if you wanted to come by and watch a movie or something?”.

“Holy shit!” You thought “Did Abby just ask me out on a date?”. You couldn’t believe it, there was no way this absolutely fucking perfect girl just asked you on a date. You almost wanted to pinch yourself because nothing about this felt real, it wasn’t until you snapped back to reality that you realized you had been staring at Abby in absolute silence while she stood there waiting for an answer.

You quickly answered “Absolutely, I would love to come over and watch a movie.” Your heart was pounding dangerously fast against your ribcage and your face was completely flushed as you gave her a reassuring smile.

Abby sighed with relief and lightly squeezed your hand “Great! I’m in the room across from the gym, does eight o-clock work?”. Abby felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, at first when Y/N didn’t say anything, she was afraid she had misread the situation and crossed the line.

“I’ll see you then.” As you started heading back to your room, you suddenly remembered something “Hey Abby!” She looked back with curiosity as you shot her a small smirk “Thanks for the note.”.

Abby smiled shyly “I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N.”

—

Read the next chapter here

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson imagine #the last of us imagine #abby anderson #abby tlou #manny tlou #fluff #fxf #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #gay panic #slow burn kinda

163 notes · View notes

ma3fiore · 3 years

Text

Just A Black Coffee

Warning(s) ⇾ profanity,

Pairing ⇾ kuroo x gn!reader

Genre ⇾ fluff and some angst, college au, mini-series

WC ⇾ 3.1k

Summary ⇾ You just got out of a toxic relationship and now you need a new place to stay. Your friend just so happens to know someone who’s looking for a roommate who can help out with the rent for the apartment.

AN: @luv4sakusa wanted to be included in my story so bad so I put her in 😒

j.a.b.c master list || next chapter

Ch. 1: New Encounters

It was two in the morning, you and your boyfriend were in a heated argument. You had just caught him cheating on you, but he was trying to deny it. “Why won’t you just fucking admit it!” Your throat was hurting from screaming so much. “I saw you on the couch with her and you dare to tell me that it was nothing!” Truth be told, you had known for a while now that something was going on, but you were in denial. You didn’t want to believe that your boyfriend of five years would do something like that. Yet here you are right now, confronting him. “Omg, you’re overreacting. I was just--” you cut him off “YOU WHAT? HUH? YOU TRIPPED AND YOUR TONGUE ACCIDENTALLY SLIPPED INTO HER MOUTH?” You didn’t want to start crying, yet your body said otherwise. He stared at you in silence before you stomped off to the bedroom.

“Y/n what are you doing?” “Isn't it obvious? I’m packing my shit and breaking up with you.” You were shoving your things into your suitcase not bothering to fold any of your clothes. He scoffs, “Really? Where are you gonna go then?” “Anywhere without you seems good.” You had no clue where to go, all you knew was that you didn’t want to be near Daisho for another second.

You zipped up your suitcase and pushed past him. He forcefully grabbed your arm causing you to turn around. “You can’t just leave me y/n,” he says almost menacingly. “I think I fucking can when I have a pretty valid reason.” You yanked your arm away from him and walked out of the apartment leaving him alone with the girl. As soon as you were out, you felt a sense of relief, but that soon went away as you realized that those five years you spent together were nothing. And your heart starts to ache even more the further you walk away.

_______________________________________________

You were sat on a park bench, the autumn winds nipping at your nose. You looked at your phone and the time read 2:31 am. ‘I shouldn’t have left while it was this cold’ You go to your contacts and call your best friend Abby. “Y/n?” she says in a raspy voice. “What’s wrong, why are you up right now?” You sigh before telling her everything that happened.

“So, yea I was wondering if I could crash at your place for a bit.” “Bitch of course you can! Fuck Daisho, his bitch-ass doesn’t deserve you.” You chuckle at her string of curses. “I’ll be over soon.” “Okayyy be safe.”

You were thankful for having a friend like Abby. You stood up from the bench and made your way over to her apartment. You needed to start finding a place for yourself soon because you didn’t want to mooch off of your friend for too long. You knew she wouldn’t mind having you stay, but you didn’t want to be too much of a burden because she lived in a pretty small space. You got on the bus that led to her address and looked up some websites for apartment listings to pass the time.

_______________________________________________

By the time you arrived at her place, it was already 3 am. You knocked on her door waiting for her to come and open it. You wait there for a few minutes before the door slowly cracks open. “Hey hun,” she says with her eyes partially open. She invites you in and leads you to the living room to set your things down.

“You can put your suitcase over here and there are some toiletries in the closet if you need them.” “Thanks, Abby, you’re the best.” “Of course, you know I’d do anything for you.” “Yea I know.” “So how ya holdin’ up?” You stared at her in silence for a moment trying to recollect your thoughts. You thought you had cried it all out while you sat in the park earlier, so you were surprised when you felt tears streaming down your face.

You didn’t want to cry over this anymore, but your emotions got the better of you. You held your head in your hands and kept sobbing, unable to stop the emotions from pouring out. Abby came over to your side and hugged you. She didn’t say anything. She just let you cry it out until you were able to compose yourself. Deep down she always had a bad feeling about Daisho ever since the day you announced you two were dating. She just didn’t want to say anything because you were so happy. To her, it felt like she was overstepping her boundaries.

“Ok, I think I’ve cried about this enough for today.” “Well shit, I thought I was gonna have to hear you cry until class started.” You chuckled. “Oh shut up.” “I think it’s time we both go to bed, otherwise we’ll pass out from sleep deprivation in class.” She gets up and brings you some pillows and blankets. She bids you goodnight before going back to her room. You were glad she went back to her room because you didn’t want her to see you crying still. You felt bad that you called her so late so you told her to go to bed. You spent that night crying until you finally fell asleep.

_______________________________________________

You woke up at 7 am, eyes still sore from all the crying you did. You felt so drained, but you had to get up and get ready for your classes. Getting up from the couch, you fold the blankets and place them neatly to the side. You open your suitcase and take out your clothes and some toiletries before heading off to the bathroom.

You saw your reflection in the mirror and were startled at the image before you. Eyes all red and puffy and hair all tangled and sticking up. ‘Yikes,’ you thought. You quickly detangle your hair and wait for the shower to heat up.

When you get out, you quickly dry yourself off and change into a fresh pair of clothes. After getting dressed and drying your hair, you met Abby at the kitchen for breakfast.

“You gonna be okay going to school?” she questions while grabbing two plates, placing one in front of you. You take a seat at the counter and fix yourself some of the food she prepared. “I’m not gonna let this whole break up ruin my studies alright. I just have to hold myself together during the day and break down when I get home,” you say with a strained smile. She rolls her eyes at your remark and takes the seat next to you.

“I swear if I see him I’m gonna--” you interrupt, “You’re going to walk away and not cause any drama.” She looks at you with an unamused face. “I’m serious, I don’t want any drama. I said what I said and I have no reason to talk to him anymore.” She turns back to her food before responding. “Okay fine.” You shake your head as you see the look of disappointment on her face. “I’ll be fine, promise.”

You two finished up your food and grabbed your things for school. Both of you rushed to the train station so you wouldn’t be late for class. You were still in anguish over the events that happened, but you were trying your hardest to ignore those feelings so you could focus on your studies. You were anxious about running into him because you felt like you would start crying again if you did. You didn’t want to have a whole breakdown in school.

You pushed all those thoughts in the back of your head as you reached the front of the school. “I have my club meeting after school so you’re gonna be going home by yourself.” “That’s fine I have my part-time job today.” You bid your goodbyes as the both of you head to your respective classes.

_______________________________________________

You head to the back of the classroom and take a seat. You didn’t feel like socializing with anyone at the moment. Mainly because you didn’t want anyone to notice how red your eyes were. You had tried to cover it up as best as you could but to no avail. You decided to look for more apartment listings as you wait for the professor to come to class. All the ones you found were either too expensive or looked like they would fall apart the second you walked in. Finally, the professor walks in and begins the class.

You barely paid attention during the lecture. You were so tired from basically having zero hours of sleep and stressing out over how you were going to find a place to live. You weren’t that close with anyone in your class so you couldn’t even ask them for help. You had zoned out for the majority of the class. The only thing that you obtained from the lecture was that you had a research paper due in the two weeks that was worth 25% of your grade.

You feel a buzz from your phone and you look down to see what it was.

*Message from Abby*

Abby: “Hey y/n, I just wanted to let you know my boyfriend is coming over later to hang, but don’t worry we won’t make you a third wheel :)”

Y/n: “If I walk in on both you being whores, I’ll kick you out of your apartment--”

Abby: “Whatever”

You turn your phone off and try to pay attention to the last ten minutes of the lecture.

_______________________________________________

School was finally over and you quickly met with Abby to tell her that you might be coming home late because you had to cover for your coworker. “Okay, just remember to be safe, you never know what sketchy ass guy is gonna be around.” “Don’t worry I know how to take care of myself. I didn’t take those self-defense classes for no reason.” She waves goodbye as she heads over to meet with her club.

You walked over to the convenience store where you worked that was only a couple of blocks away from your school. You liked taking the night shifts because it was usually the least busy and it meant you could do some homework. That being said, you also had your fair share of creeps and drunks. You had bought pepper spray just in case anything happens. Though you hoped that you wouldn’t have to use it.

When you arrived, the worker there got up to leave so you could take over. You didn’t have much to do. Your main tasks consisted of restocking shelves, mopping the floors, and managing the register. When it was just you in the store it kind of felt peaceful. Sometimes you’d just observe the people who walk by and other times you’d be lost in thought. However this time, you wanted to be away from your thoughts. You tried to put on some music to drown out your thoughts. For a while, it was working until you saw your ex walking hand in hand with the girl he cheated on you with. You were enraged at the sight. How could he move on so easily, while you were still stuck on it? Were you overreacting? Were you the only one who cared about the relationship? All these negative thoughts started to flood in. You were brought back to reality when you heard the bell from the door ring, signaling that a customer was there. You quickly brush off those thoughts and greet the customer. The last hour and a half went into cleaning the floors and doing a little bit of homework.

By the time you finished your shift, the sun had completely disappeared. Although you were confident in your self-defense skills, you would still be nervous about walking home alone. You made sure that you had your pepper spray with you before locking up. You quickly shoot Abby a text saying that you were done with work and were on your way to the apartment.

_______________________________________________

Upon your arrival home, you were greeted by a very loud and energetic guy, who you assumed to be Abby’s boyfriend. You were caught off guard by his liveliness, especially since it was pretty late. “Y/n, this is Bokuto, my boyfriend.” “Bo, this my friend that I was talking to you about.” You exchanged hellos before you went to the bathroom to freshen up.

“Y/n I just solved all your problems,” your best friend announces to you as you exit the bathroom. “Uh how exactly?” you question with one eyebrow raised. “Bo, tell her” she nudges her boyfriend. You sat down next to them on the couch waiting for his response. “So, Abby told me how you’re looking for a place and I happen to know someone who’s looking for a roommate to share the rent.” Your eyes lit up immediately. “Omg really?!” you ask in excitement. “Yup, I can--” you interrupt “I’ll take it.” Both of them were startled by your immediate acceptance.

“Damn y/n, you hate me that much.” You roll your eyes at her remark. “You know that’s not the reason why I wanna leave.” You turn back to Bokuto to ask who this person is just to make sure it wasn’t some sketchy weirdo. “He’s a friend of mine from high school, he goes to the same college as us. He’s a marketing major.” “Okay, he seems fine.” “Yea, I’ll tell him that you’re interested, and I can set up a time for you guys to get acquainted.” You were kind of excited to meet your potential new roommate. You just hoped that he wasn’t going to be an asshole like your ex. “Thanks so much, Bokuto.” “No problem y/n” he flashes a friendly smile.

After a few hours of hanging out with each other, Bokuto had to go. Before leaving he gave you the address of the apartment, Kuroo’s contact information, and his own. He said he would tell you when Kuroo would be able to meet with you. “Aren’t you glad to have such an amazing friend like me?” she asks smugly. “Uhh if I’m not mistaken it was Bokuto who knows Kuroo not you.” you tease. “Okay, but who was the one who introduced you to him? Me exactly.” The both of you started laughing. “Ok, but seriously thank you for doing this. I’ll treat you to ramen sometime.” “You better.”

_______________________________________________

A week has passed since that day, and Bokuto finally texted you saying that Kuroo was able to meet. You were waiting in anticipation. You were hoping that he didn’t already find someone else during that week of waiting. A wave of relief washed over you when you received Bokuto’s message with the details for the meeting. “So when are you seeing him?” she asks from the kitchen. “Today at 4.” You had about an hour to get ready. “Are you nervous?” “Yes and no,” you respond. “I just hope he doesn’t reject me,” you say while trying to pick out an outfit. “Bo said that he’d be fine with anyone as long as they’re able to pay the other half.” “Do you know anything about him?” you inquire hoping to get a little more information before meeting him. “The only thing Bo has told me is that they’ve known each other since high school and were rival teams for volleyball. Other than that, I’m as clueless as you.” You give her a slight nod.

You finally picked out your outfit and went to go change. “Does this look okay?” She turns around to see what you had on. “Yea you look great.” You go back into the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror one more time. “ARE YOU SURE?” you yell. “YES STOP WORRYING, YOU LOOK FINE!” she yells back. You leave the bathroom to grab your bag and head to the cafe. “Wish me luck,” you sigh. “Relax, it’s not a life or death situation,” she jokes. You wave goodbye and head over to the cafe, hoping that you wouldn’t arrive late.

_______________________________________________

You walk into the cafe scanning the area to see if he was there. You didn’t even know what he looked like so there was no point in trying to look. You feel a buzz from your pocket. You take your phone out to see a message from Kuroo.

Kuroo Tetsurō: “By the window.”

You look up to see a guy with spiky hair sitting by the window looking at you. You could feel his gaze piercing through you. Your heart started to race. You walked over hoping he wouldn’t notice how nervous you were. “Hey gorgeous,” he says with a smirk. “What’s your name?” His forwardness caught you off guard. “Uh I’m y/n,” you say as you took the seat across from him. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asks. “A black coffee is fine.” He gets up to order the drinks. As he gets up, you catch yourself admiring his looks but you quickly brush it off, especially when he’s going to be your future roommate. Besides you just got out of a relationship. Just as you brushed it off, he comes back with the drinks.

“So why do you wanna be my roommate?” he asks you and you reply with “I just really need a place to live right now, I promise I’ll be a good roommate, and make sure to give the payments on time.” “Whoa whoa whoa there, I just asked for a reason not a whole life story,” he says in a teasing manner. You sit there, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry didn’t mean to embarrass you, sweetheart.” Little did he know that it made you feel even more flustered. “Uhmm it’s fine,” you reply. Trying to ease the conversation from what just happened, you say in a cocky manner, “So do you want me or not?” Causing a chuckle to escape his lips.

“This is going to be interesting.”

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cyhyr · 3 years

Text

Summer of Whump Day 15: Sleep Deprived

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: G

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka; Umino Iruka & Uzumaki Naruto

WC: ~3320

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: AU backstory for the purposes of I Wanted To.

A/N: This is just. I don't even know guys. I started writing and then it got bigger and bigger and I couldn't stop. It's just. A Lot.

Kakashi has not been able to take care of his sensei’s child the way he should, the way the boy admittedly deserves; and yes, absolutely, he takes that fault personally but also doesn’t do anything about it because really… what can he provide for this child besides instability? He’s hardly in the village anymore, though Sandaime has hinted that, if Kakashi asked, he could be assigned missions closer to home. Instead, Kakashi does what he can without bothering Naruto or letting the boy realize that he even exists. He ensures the bills are paid up in six-month increments, and has the utility companies know to charge to his personal account anything he misses due to being out on mission. He provides non-perishable groceries, placed in the pantry late at night every month or so: oats, rice, dried or tinned meats, beans and legumes. He’ll bring a small selection of vegetables with him at the same time, (no more than three or four items, so they don’t rot before Naruto feels obligated to eat them) usually pilfered from Gai’s garden so he knows they’re not poisoned.

And whenever he’s in the village, he makes a stop at Naruto’s apartment at least once to check in on the wards wrapped into the walls and window frames.

This is how he learns about Umino Iruka and the interest he’s taken in the village jinchūriki.

The wards when he gets to Minato’s son’s apartment this time are different. Odd. Not… well, actually, they might be stronger; Kakashi glances at the walls with the sharingan and finds himself mildly impressed. Whoever placed these wards knew about the ones Kakashi put up, and modified their own to augment and strengthen Kakashi’s.

Kakashi says modified because he’s seen these styles of wards before, but never used like this. The key in the front door jingles a bit, like the person unlocking the door knows Kakashi’s in here and is giving him time to leave. Kakashi takes the out for what it is and slips out the window, closing it quietly behind him. He stays plastered against the wall beside the window for a moment, however, wanting to get a glimpse of who’s taking care of his sensei’s kid in Kakashi’s stead.

The door opens and Naruto—gods, how old is he, seven? Eight?—barrels by the figure in the doorway with a grin and shoots straight for the pantry.

“Naruto-kun, take your sandals off first. I mopped for you just earlier this week, I’m not doing it again so soon.”

One arm balancing a paper bag of fresh groceries, a leather school bag over the same shoulder; hitai-ate and vest both neat, but his sleeves and pants legs are scuffed; and his fingers carry the faint dusting of chalk that hours of holding ingrains and a quick wash won’t wipe away. A teacher.

“Iruka-sensei, I can mop later; I’m hungry now!”

“I won’t ask you twice.” The man—this Iruka-sensei—walks barefoot through the apartment and sets the grocery bag down on the kitchen table. Naruto hangs his head and goes back to the door, and once he’s out of the room, Iruka looks at the window Kakashi is peeking in, scowling initially. The scowl lessens when he sees the Konoha ANBU mask, and he nods, but makes a slight shoo gesture.

“What’re we making tonight, sensei?” Naruto bounds back into the room, barefoot as his sensei.

“I’m thinking of teaching you breakfast for dinner,” Iruka says. “Miso soup, tamagoyaki, steamed salmon; how’s that sound?”

“Sounds great!”

“And if we make enough, you’ll have enough for the morning, too,” Iruka ruffles Naruto’s hair. “Go grab out the rice and we’ll get started, okay?”

Kakashi leaves. Iruka-sensei seems to have only good intentions.

Iruka is a new teacher, one that (if the very quiet rumors are to be believed) didn’t initially want to be the jinchūriki’s homeroom teacher. Something changed his mind, clearly, and now he’s spending every moment outside of class with the kid.

Every. Moment.

Kakashi notices the third time he’s in the village after meeting Iruka—notices how tired the man seems. He follows the teacher from just before dawn when he wakes up and heads out to Naruto’s apartment and fixes him breakfast. Kakashi watches Iruka herd Naruto around the apartment, brushing teeth, getting changed, gods Naruto where’s your homework I told you to put it right back in your bag last night after I helped you with it. Then they’re out the door and one of them locks the deadbolt while the other activates the wards (Iruka always double-checks the wards if Naruto does them) and they walk to the Academy together.

Iruka spends the day in the Academy staunchly refusing to play favorites. If Kakashi didn’t know that the man had made Naruto eat breakfast while searching for a clean shirt for the child to wear, he’d swear Naruto was Iruka’s least favorite student—based solely on the amount of yelling.

But the two of them have lunch together, talk and hang out during recess unless Iruka shoos him away to play, and then they walk together to either Iruka’s or Naruto’s apartment after school. Sometimes they’ll go out for ramen, or to one of the training grounds to work on a technique they started in class which Naruto needs more time to fully grasp. Iruka is a patient teacher, especially one-on-one, and even though Minato-sensei’s son doesn’t perform well on the tests in school he learns the techniques after class and gains the appropriate muscle memory.

Which is admittedly much more important than the grades Naruto earns. Iruka won’t say as much, but it’s obvious that he agrees when his teaching style puts emphasis on practicals rather than paper tests. Kakashi approves.

After a day of minding twenty-five ankle-biters, an afternoon of extra training for the village jinchūriki, and an evening of making sure Naruto is fed and happy and his homework is completed to the best of his ability, Iruka then helps Naruto get ready for bed. Against the kid’s token protests, they’ll read a story together (Kakashi suspects Iruka does this because Naruto’s reading skills are lacking, but he could also very well just be doing it because he enjoys it—the man’s motives are enigma to him) and Iruka will tuck Naruto in. He stays at the apartment until he knows Naruto is asleep, tidying up here and there or even just leaning in the bedroom doorway watching the jinchūriki’s chest rise and fall.

Only when Naruto’s asleep will Iruka leave, activating the wards and locking up after himself.

It took only two times of Kakashi watching these kinds of days go by before he realized that Iruka knew he had been watched all day. As he passes the tree outside of Naruto’s building, the only one that reaches high enough to afford a glance into his apartment, Iruka looks right up into the limbs where Kakashi is crouched, waves, and continues back to his own home.

(He had been underestimating Umino Iruka’s awareness. He’s intrigued.)

(But anyway.)

Once he’s home, Iruka rushes through grading and lesson plans and adjustments. He makes lunch for himself and Naruto for tomorrow. Cleans, if he remembers; showers, if he has any energy left. Then, Umino-sensei crashes hard around one or two in the morning.

All to start over again at five-thirty the next morning.

It can’t be sustainable. Kakashi is morbidly interested in how long Iruka planned to keep up this kind of schedule.

It starts out with checking out during lunch. Kakashi is lounging in the trees on the Academy grounds, pretending to read but listening intently to Naruto ramble on about some new topping Ichiraku is introducing on Friday and please Iruka-sensei can we go? Then the soft click of dropped chopsticks against a bento box made Kakashi look down to the pair sitting at the base of his tree.

“Iruka-sensei? Are you—?”

“Oh, I’m. I’m alright.” Iruka laughs it off, fumbling for his chopsticks. “I was just thinking too hard there.”

“You shouldn’t do that!”

“Hu—?”

“You tell me not to think too hard all the time,” Naruto pouts. “That I’ll hurt myself.”

Iruka’s laugh crinkles his eyes and he tips his head back. “Gods, Naruto, I’m sorry—no, not—um. Listen, forget it, okay? Ramen, on Friday, right?”

“YES!”

And it was forgotten. Except, Iruka is unconsciously rubbing his fingers together beside his hip and Kakashi can see it. Something happened to force the drop—likely, he lost feeling in his hand briefly.

Kakashi’s out of the village as it gets worse, but he hears all about it from Shikaku and Inoichi when he gets back. They’re in the hallway outside the Hokage’s office, talking in low tones like they were discussing an attack on the village.

“What could cause such a serious mood shift?”

“Genjutsu; one of the other teachers sabotaging him; another student practicing poorly.”

“Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi asks.

Both men look at him as he approaches. He’s still in his ANBU armor, but the mask is in his locker. It’s an open secret he’s in ANBU; only his codename is high-clearance.

Shikaku nods. “Shikamaru’s complaining about the man’s temper being shorter than usual.”

“My Ino confirmed this behavior shift. We’re understandably worried, if someone if trying to use an Academy teacher to attack the kids—”

Kakashi shakes his head. “It’s not that.”

“And you would know?” Shikaku prompts.

“He’s taking care of Naruto,” Kakashi shrugs. “It’s probably catching up with him, finally.”

“What is?” Inoichi looks honestly confused.

Kakashi tilts his head and then realizes. “Ah. That’s right. You’re both married. You have a way to share the responsibilities.”

Sakumo hadn’t ever been irate with him, but Kakashi can remember him being tired. He lifts his hand and walks away. “I’ll see if I can’t have a talk with Iruka-sensei,” he says, as though he speaks with the man on a regular basis instead of just waving back from his shadowed space in the tree at night when Iruka leaves Naruto.

He doesn’t get a chance to talk to Iruka for weeks. When he gets back, it finally comes to a head.

Kakashi is perched outside Iruka’s apartment where he and Naruto are preparing their dinner. Naruto, still talking a mile a minute, hardly notices that Iruka is dazed at the counter, his hands going through the motions of peeling carrots and separating pieces of broccoli without being fully cognizant. He’s much paler than the last time Kakashi peeked in on them—all except for the bags under his eyes; those couldn’t get much darker if they were black.

He flinches forward as Iruka drifts to the side. Naruto catches his teacher before Kakashi can take a step, and the clang of a knife hitting the floor is more than a little startling. Together, they stick Iruka’s hand under running water from the tap, and then Naruto disappears further into the apartment and returns a few seconds later with a first aid kit.

“What was that about, Iruka-sensei?”

Iruka takes a bit to answer. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” he says. “I’m a bit tired, that’s all. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Naruto says. He finishes caring for his sensei and then says, “How about I go get some take-out, and then we can clean up and you can go to bed?”

Iruka smiles tiredly. “We can bring the take-out to your place, okay? I’ll clean up when I come back home.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, Naruto,” Iruka puts his unbandaged hand in Naruto’s hair. “I’d rather make sure you’re fed and well-rested for school tomorrow. That’s what's important.”

“You’re important, too, sensei,” Naruto says.

Kakashi can’t help but agree.

“Let’s go get some ramen, and we can argue about this later.”

Kakashi flashes away to Ichiraku to put in their order and pay. It’s the least he can do, right?

Later that night, Iruka leaves Naruto’s apartment and like always, lifts his head to wave up at Kakashi in the tree. Only, his eyes roll back with the movement of lifting his head and his knees collapse under him and Kakashi makes it just in time to keep the sensei’s head from hitting the ground. He catches Iruka with one hand under his back and the other cupped behind his head and eases him down against his raised knee.

As soon as Iruka is horizontal, his eyes flutter back open. “Oh, ANBU-san,” he mutters. He’s dazed and foggy, but tries to stand up on his own anyway.

“Sensei, are you well?” Kakashi asks, knowing the answer but needing Iruka to admit it.

Iruka waves him away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

It’s more than that if you’re slipping into micro-sleep, Kakashi thinks, but lets the man stubbornly stand up. He’s still holding his hands out, ready to catch him again, when after five paces Iruka tips sideways and falls again. Kakashi keeps him upright this time, arms tight around his waist and back.

Iruka stays under for a few seconds this time, and when he wakes he leans more heavily into Kakashi’s armor and groans. “What’s happening?” he murmurs.

Normally, he would stay and look after Naruto all night, but this seems more important. “Umino-sensei, I’m going to see you to the hospital now,” he says.

“But… Naruto?”

Because of course Iruka figured out that Kakashi—his ANBU persona at least—stays close to Naruto at all times. “Together, our wards are top-notch, sensei,” Kakashi says. “He’ll be okay for a night.” He slips Iruka onto his back, pulling his arms over his shoulders. Iruka’s light breath huffs past his ear as he says, “Hold on.” Then, they’re gone.

Iruka wakes up much later, Naruto tipped against his hospital bed, snoring. He feels so much better after however many hours of sleep he’s gotten. He wonders briefly why he’s here, and where the ANBU that brought him here is. If Naruto is here, that ANBU is likely closeby. Iruka lets out a jaw-cracking yawn and settles back down on the pillow to sleep some more.

When he wakes up the second time, it’s because he has to pee so bad oh gods. It’s night time and Naruto is gone—Iruka tries not to feel disappointed. His legs shake under him when he tries to stand to get to the restroom; whatever’s wrong with him, it’s making him weak as a newborn but he will not embarrass himself by not making it to the toilet. He pushes chakra through his legs, and, finally, blissfully, makes it.

He gets a good look at himself in the mirror as he’s washing his hands. His eyes are puffy and red, but he has some color back in his skin. His hair could use a wash and some heavy conditioning—he hadn’t had time for that in awhile. All in all, it’s not bad; but he’s still wondering why he’s here.

Iruka leaves the restroom and is halfway across the room to his bed when his chakra flares unexpectedly. He stumbles, collapses, and feels his eyes blur and begin to roll back.

Before his head can hit the tile, he’s caught and cushioned by Naruto’s ANBU. The ANBU gently picks him up, one arm under his knees and the other around his back, and it’s like Iruka weighs nothing as the ANBU stands and carries him back to bed.

“Thank-you, ANBU-san,” Iruka says, flushed. “I promise I’m not usually so weak.”

The ANBU fusses with the blanket and covers Iruka back up. He (Iruka assumes they’re a he, the voice and height lead him to believe it but he’s been wrong before) seems frustrated, in the way that ANBU show frustration: by being busy, and then by being absolutely still. He’ll make sure the water pitcher is full, and then stand silently by the window for a few seconds. Pace the width of the room from window to door and back, and then stand at the end of the bed.

“What’s going on, ANBU-san? Is Naruto—?”

“Uzumaki-kun is safe, healthy, and well-cared for,” the ANBU says, cutting him off. “You are a godsend to this village, if only to care for the uncared for.”

Iruka glowers. “Someone had to do it. He’s seven years old and living alone and has lived alone his entire life. I couldn’t—”

“I’m aware,” the ANBU holds up a hand to stop his rant. “Believe me, if I could have done more, I would have. But an ANBU is no role model, especially not me. I’m glad he’s had you. That said.” The ANBU somehow matched Iruka’s glower through the mask; he was suddenly glad for all the time spent in Sandaime’s office around the ANBU that he can pick up on these micro-aggressions for what they are.

Iruka folds his arms and waits for the ANBU to continue.

After a heavy sigh, the ANBU says, “Sleep deprivation.”

“I—what?”

“What you’re here for. You’ve been running yourself into the ground, sensei. You slept for twenty-two hours, and you’re still not fully recovered. The medics say it could take up to a week of proper sleep for you to feel normal again.”

Iruka flushes and ducks his head. “I… But, that doesn’t…”

“How much sleep have you been getting? Three, Four hours a night? And then you’re exhausting yourself all day looking after pre-genin and then Naruto.” The ANBU folds his arms. “This isn’t sustainable.”

“I know that. I just.” Iruka groans. “I don’t have time for—” He scrubs both hands across his eyes. Now that he’s actually gotten some sleep he’s really tired. “No one else takes care of him, not the way he needs it; he’s just a kid! It bothers me enough that he lives by himself—”

“Your immune system was compromised when you arrived, sensei.” The ANBU snapped, quieting Iruka’s tirade. “Who’s going to take care of Naruto the way he deserves if you’re stuck on your back with a perfectly, normally treatable form of the flu? What will happen to him if you critically injure yourself due to a micro-sleep at an inopportune time and find yourself off-roster for weeks? What then, sensei?”

The silence is heavy. Iruka picks at a stray thread in the blanket on his lap.

“I don’t know,” he answers, his voice small. “I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking that far ahead, I guess.”

The ANBU nods. “At least you’re aware now.”

There’s a long, awkward pause as Iruka wonders what else there is to say.

“You have a spare room in your apartment, yes?” the ANBU breaks the silence.

Iruka nods, slowly, not sure where this is going.

“Maybe…” the ANBU continues slowly, “maybe changes in Naruto’s living arrangements can be made. If Naruto were living with you, could you agree to a better sleep schedule—one with which you can better take care of yourself and Naruto?”

Iruka could kiss this man.

“Yes! Yes, please, I’ll—yes! I’ll take him, even if it means I have to lose him as a student, I’d take him as a foster.”

The ANBU chuckles. “I’ll speak with the Hokage. If he says no, well… There’s nothing saying that Naruto himself can’t choose where he lives, is there?” Then his micro-aggression is back, leaning over the foot of the bed with his arms wide. “My only stipulation is that you take better care of yourself. A sick guardian can’t very well keep up with any child, let alone a jinchūriki.”

Iruka nods. “Deal.” He covers a yawn with his palm and asks, “Can this taking care of myself clause start now, with me asking you to leave so I can go back to sleep?”

“I’m not leaving,” the ANBU says, standing back up straight. “If you’re to be the guardian of our jinchūriki, you’ll need to get used to the ANBU guard, sensei. But please, get some sleep.” He chuckles lightly, “I think I’ve caught you enough in the last thirty-six hours, don’t you?”

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump15 #sleep deprived #fanfic #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #uzumaki naruto #my writing

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spectrumed · 3 years

Text

5. sleep

It hardly gets dark in the Swedish summers. Between dusk to dawn, you’ve got about an hour to fall asleep before the sun rises again. If you struggle to fall asleep that fast, you can invest in some good window blinds. Or you can do as I do and place one big pillow over your face. Then the birds start singing around three o’clock in the morning. You can practically hear the sounds of Edvard Grieg’s Morning Mood playing at around four o’clock in the morning. Around five o’clock in the morning, it is as bright as midday. Did you have a good time sleeping? Or did you pace around in a circle having one hell of a panic attack? I thought you took some of those sleeping pills you got prescribed, they should have helped you fall asleep… wait, you did take them? They didn’t work? Oh, they did work, you just felt your body falling asleep while your mind stayed awake? That sounds terrible, real terrible. Very well. It’s morning now. Want some coffee?

You could form a religion out of sleeping. Let’s have sermons where we fill a whole auditorium full of beds and have our congregates take a big collective nap. Sleep for the sleep god! Pillows for the pillow throne! Sleep is a billion-dollar industry, there’s a plethora of handy products you can buy that promise to send you on a luxury liner to dreamland. Pills, mattresses, dreamcatchers, whatever your snoozy heart desires. You can go to a proper doctor and they might help you, or you can settle for the placebo effect and go to some fraudulent quack, instead. He might make you swallow some pills that contain arsenic, but hey, arsenic is a naturally occurring element. It can’t be all that bad for you if it is natural. And you do want to sleep, don’t you? If you take this pill in your mouth and swallow it with a glass of water, I promise you, you will sleep for a very long time.

The esteemed former president of the United States of America, Donald Trump, claims that he only needs four to five hours of sleep every night. While Mr. Trump is well-known to be a paragon of honesty, I do doubt he’s telling the truth. No, I actually do believe him when says that he only gets about four or five hours of sleep each night, I just don’t believe him when he says that is all he needs. He doesn’t look very well-rested, does he? And Margaret Thatcher, the similarly adored former prime minister of the United Kingdom, claimed that she also only needed about four hours of sleep every night. Yes, while researching the sleeping habits of famous monsters, I’ve come to the conclusion that amongst powerful individuals, not getting enough sleep has become a proper badge of honour. The belief is that if you don’t get enough sleep, that must be because you are living such a vibrantly successful life, and are so career-driven, that you simply haven’t got enough time to sleep for the full eight hours. People who sleep for more than four hours are lazy liberals. Go-getters like Trump has got to be out there, working, making decisions, raping women, and showing daddy what a good boy he is. Sleep is for the weak. But maybe I am weak. I sure like sleeping.

It’s the cultural hangover our society has had since the 80’s. Back when the yuppies wearing jackets with obscenely padded shoulders would happily chuck down eight to ten espressos in one go while A Flock of Seagulls was playing on the radio encouraging everyone to go running. And to be fair to them, with the constant fear of the doomsday clock hitting midnight, they really had no reason to think that they’d survive the decade. The new millennia, it seemed, would have no cities, no nature, no humans, only radiated mutants scouring the rubble that remains of civilization for cans of preserved something edible. Self-destructive behaviour was in. It was fashionable. Doubt people got enough sleep back then, between snorting coke and wondering if the next pandemic that hits the night clubs would start killing as many straight folks as gay folks. Well, here we are in the new 20’s, and we’ve got a pandemic that does appear to kill people regardless of sexual orientation. Sure, the looming threat of nuclear obliteration has been lessened dramatically, but we’ve largely come to exchange that anxiety for the fear of total environmental collapse, instead. No wonder 80’s nostalgia is a big thing right now. History doesn't repeat itself, but It often rhymes, said Mark Twain (supposedly.) I wonder how much coke Mark Twain would snort if he lived in the 80’s.

I notice a palpable difference in my mood and mental state when I’ve been getting good amounts of sleep. Lack of sleep results in lack of clear thinking. Caffeine, though it is something I am chronically addicted to, does not help fix a sleep-deprived mind. There are no tricks of revolutionary “life hacks” one can employ to get out of sleeping. To recover from depression, one has to sleep. Sleep often and sleep well. I cannot understate the importance of being well-rested. You cannot process information if you are tired. I am reminded of my teenage years seeing friends of mine who’d stay up all night, then come into school shuffling like agonised zombies. They got so frustrated when the teachers reprimanded them for snoozing in class. Well, dummies, it is your fault for drinking several dozen cans of Red Bull every day! I know that sleep does not always come easy. I know the terror of insomnia. But, c’mon! At some point, you’ve got to realise that sleep is essential. Maybe most of your problems stem from the fact that you refuse to get enough of it? Here’s where the tough love comes in. If you wanna get better, kiddo, then listen to me. It’s bedtime. Yes, I know you’d rather stay up late playing monopoly with your friends, but I’m confiscating your dice and I’ll only give it back to you when you’ve gotten some good sleep. Okay? You hear me, missy? You listen to your daddy now, and go to bed. No ifs or buts about it, princess, I’ve made myself clear. I know what is best for you, and you know that I am right. I’m your daddy.

But what if I can’t seem to fall asleep? Normally, it takes a long time for me to fall asleep. It is not uncommon for me to stay awake for two hours, maybe more, before I finally begin to sleep. Fearing that I won’t fall asleep gives me anxiety. That anxiety keeps me awake. I turn my body. I try lying on my side. First my left side, then my right side. I then try to lie on my back. I’ve got a song stuck playing in my head. Not even the whole song, just a ten-second segment of it. It’s playing over and over. I’m worried about the future, will I ever find security, will I ever find a wife, will I get to grow old? I worry about death. I keep hearing the music playing, it’s grating. I rearrange the pillows, in hopes that will make me feel more comfortable. But no, I keep tossing and turning like a fish caught on land. I’m getting frustrated. If only I could shut off my brain. I’m constantly thinking. I turn to my side again, but now I notice I’ve moved arounds so much that now the bed has shifted away from its position next to the wall. There’s now a gap between the bed and the wall. I almost fall down that gap. I get up and I push the bed back against the wall. I lay down in bed. The song is still playing.

How am I ever going to become a successful businessman if I am wasting so many hours just trying to get to sleep? This is the time I should be spending on the phone, yelling at people and making inappropriate sexual comments to my female employees. That is what good executives do. I need to get my life in order. I need to exercise more. I should practice mindfulness. I should get a life coach, a personal trainer, a stylist, an accountant, an assistant, a trophy wife, and a mistress. I need people in my life to take care of me. It’s funny how rich people create the sort of environment around them where people will take care of all their needs, effectively infantilising them. These people don’t even get to decide how to dress themselves. They’ve got fancy apartments, but they don’t choose any of the furniture. They’ve got art on the walls that they don’t like, but the art looks expensive, and that is all that matters. They’ve got kids, but they don’t raise them. Their spouses are cheating on them, but in fairness, they are cheating on their spouses. They don’t really even know what their jobs entails, as they’ve gotten promoted so many times that they’ve ended up in a position that is totally outside their realm of expertise. But they’re so powerful that no-one is able to fire them over their pretty blatant incompetence. They’re successful. They’ve made it. But they still can’t sleep at night. They only manage to successfully fall asleep at night after swallowing a fistful of pills along with a swig of vodka.

It must be easy being a self-help guru. Well, what I mean to say is that all you really need is charisma, which is something you need to be born with. But you don’t need to do any actual studying, any real research, or any kind of soul-searching or deliberation. All you need is to state what is obvious. You go on stage in front of an anxious audience, mostly composed of middle-class salesmen and miscellaneous white collar ghosts. You smile, show off your eerily bright teeth, and they clap. You tell them to go take care of themselves, to eat more healthily, to take walks, or go swimming, and love their partners. You tell them to drink less, or maybe, if they feel like it, they could drink more. I am sure you could spin alcohol as a positive or a negative, depending on what crowd you’re talking to. Tell them to appreciate family. Tell them to appreciate others. Live, laugh, but most of all, love. Tell them to go clean their rooms. Tell them to remember that if they’re on an airplane that is about to crash land, they need to put their own oxygen mask on before they can help others put theirs on. If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else? Now, go to bed!

You know all this stuff. Me telling you that you should sleep more doesn’t really help you. You know that you should sleep more. It’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that. And it’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that it is better to drink in moderation, and that you should smoke less weed. There are many small little things you can do to improve your life, to stop being a terminally unemployed slacker. It’s like your grandpa who tells you stories about life after the war when you could walk into the biggest building in town, slam your fist against the table and demand to be given a job and a house and a wife and a couple of kids, and that was all you needed to do. He can’t comprehend the fact that society doesn’t work like that, any more. Most people my generation have given up hope of ever owning a home, at least if they happen to live in the vicinity of a larger city. It seems that, no matter where you live, the cost of homes has risen to an impenetrable degree. It seems just as likely that you will be able to afford your very own genetically-engineered pet dragon before you will get to be a house-owner. It’s the fault of those damn boomers, why bother changing your ways, when the boomers are still in charge? Others may accuse you of wallowing in your own depression, but you are perfectly aware that this is exactly what you are doing. You are self-aware. But self-awareness on its own is not enough to motivate anyone. You still can’t see the point in doing anything constructive with your life. Life just feels so aimless. It’s easier to sit, smoke weed, and watch cartoons.

Pop psychology is problematic. To say the least. Take all those self-help gurus suffering from their messiah complexes and put them through the shredder. Don’t buy books thinking that they’ll offer you the kind of treatment you would get from an actual psychiatrist. I know that, depending on where you are in the world, treatment can get very expensive, but you’re not going to get better reading the book of some self-aggrandising narcissist’s collection of wishy-washy platitudes. Dr. Phil has done great evil pretending to be a therapist on the TV, and Jordan Peterson (despite having once been an esteemed scholar) has turned a generation of young internet-savvy zoomers into proto-fascists obsessed with the monogamy of lobsters. Pop psychology has become a guise for cult leaders to reap new followers. Getting treatment should not feel like joining a new religious movement. Maybe I’m just one of those annoying atheists, but I dare say, psychiatry works at its best when it's secular. You should not look at your psychiatrist as a prophet speaking to God. They’re just a doctor, and you need treatment.

I do not aspire to create a self-help blog. I do not promise that reading this blog will help you in any way. I would be overjoyed if someone came up to me and told me that I had inspired them to seek help. You may tell me that reading my words have made you feel less alone, knowing that others have gone through all these things that you are going through. When I felt at my worst, I remember reading the memoirs of people I admired who had similarly struggled in their lives, and I felt less alone. But none of those books pretended to exist principally to help others. Those books did help me, through the candid descriptions of struggles that I thought I was alone in experiencing. Knowing that some people had pulled through, managed to find a light at the end of the tunnel, it made me think I could one day be like them. The books didn’t seek to fix me, but they offered me a perspective that came to be very valuable later on, when I started going to therapy, and when I later started taking medication. Sometimes that is all you need. Not someone standing over you and telling you to go to bed, or to clean your room, or to stop drinking. You know all that, already. What you really need is the reassurance that things can indeed get better. Sleep will come.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

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Written In The Stars CXXXIX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m scared to see how you guys will react to this one, hope you at least find it enjoyable despite my very self-indulgent plots -Danny

P.S. Huge s/o to @bwbatta bc I decided to update my fic and now I have pretty dividers in all my books! Most of the ones I ended up using are her work so go check it out :)

Words: 4,641

Series’ Masterlist

Book V // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Need Your Love’ -by Joshua Wicker

Chapter One: Dumbledore's Mission.

"A galleon says Erick will crash the car —"

"Shut up!"

"Don't make him nervous," Emily scolded Harry. "If you continue this I won't teach you how to drive!"

"We don't need to learn," Mel snorted. "We'll apparate everywhere..."

"I thought you hated it," Her mother raised a brow.

"Yeah, but she's lazy," Harry smirked.

"Why is Harry here? He's not allowed to leave the house, is he?" Mel frowned.

"He's not allowed to be alone outside, there's a difference. We're babysitting two infants, unfortunately..." Erick taunted.

"What's the matter, Flint? You have stage-fright?" Harry replied.

"Oh please, he feeds on attention! Like a dementor but in a more annoying way..."

"Enough!" Emily looked over her seat. "Is that the kind of things you want to teach your brother?"

"I doubt he'll remember any of this!"

"We know he can do it, Em, we're just teasing," Harry said blithely.

"Yeah, he's the only adult here apart from you, mum. It's kind of his obligation to be good at driving."

The baby let out a squeal of agreement, he was three weeks old but had a good set of lungs that he was happy to use at any given time, especially while everyone was sleeping.

Harry leaned and checked that the baby's blankets. Mel beamed at the sight, the boy had pretty much adopted the boy as his own brother, which she thought made a lot of sense, not only because it was Sirius' son, but because he'd been part of her family for so long that anything else would've been silly.

They were well aware that bringing little Regulus to their driving lessons was a bit risky, but Emily wasn't as keen to leave Mel and Harry alone in the house as she used to, so she put a few safety spells on the chair once the baby was seated while Harry and Mel sat on both sides of it.

Erick turned out to be a good driver, but he still had a bit of trouble understanding how cars worked.

"I have to be pulling and pushing stuff all the time!" He complained as he activated the windshield on accident for the third time. "Why can't I just turn the key and press the pedal?"

"Cars don't work like that," Emily said patiently. "It's complicated, but you're good!"

"He's only gone up and down the street for half an hour, Leggie fell asleep already," The girl huffed.

Emily looked over the seat once again, she was frowning. "Erick, switch seats with Mel."

"You're joking... right?"

"Erick," The woman repeated.

"On it," He said happily. "C'mon Mel, are you scared?"

Ten minutes later, Erick was in the backseat and she was tightly holding onto the wheel.

"I'm doing it!" She said. "Is not that hard, is it?"

"A slug could move faster," Harry was looking at the roof of the car and dying of heat. "I thought you were going to be more... the reckless type of driver."

"Me too..." Erick agreed lazily, he was playing with one of Reggie's feet.

"I'm not going faster, my brother's in the car!" Mel scoffed.

"We're not asking you to! Just enough so we can feel like we're actually moving!"

"Bringing you three was a bad idea," Emily said over the boys' laughter.

"Fine!" Mel pressed down the pedal, the car immediately gaining speed. "I'm was just being careful!"

"Which makes me proud," Emily softly patted her shoulder. "It feels like it was yesterday when you were running around Remus' house in nothing but a diaper and now you're driving!"

"The other night I ran into her wearing no pants, so she's hasn't changed really," Erick murmured nonchalantly. "I stepped on Grey's tail thanks to that... maybe that's why he hates me so much."

"What?" Harry's head snapped to the side so fast he hurt himself.

"I forgot you live here now! Sometimes I sleep like that, s'not a crime!" She looked at Harry through the rearview mirror. "I've been an only child for sixteen years, sometimes I forget there are more than two people in my house..."

"I'm surprised her scream didn't wake up Leon," Erick sniggered.

"He's a heavy sleeper like his dad," Emily responded distractedly.

The conversation died instantly. It wasn't the woman's intention, of course, but it'd been only a few weeks since Sirius' passing, sometimes they would forget for a moment, just a brief second, then one of them would talk about Sirius and everything would start again...

It was painful, and it was weird. Mel had never endured something like this with anyone except Harry. Having a larger group of people sharing the same pain was strangely comforting.

Mel cleared her throat. "It's Harry's turn..."

"I'm okay," He said quickly. "I can learn another day..."

"Glasses, you and I have a tradition of experiencing things at the same time," The girl stopped the car and turned to look at him. "You're not going to ruin our streak. Besides, I need to know if I'm better than you."

Harry stared at her in amusement, then he looked at Erick.

"Is it fun, having her bossing you around all day?"

"I boss her around too," Erick smirked.

"They take turns," Her mother sighed.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry gave the woman a look of sympathy as he stepped out of the car.

"There are worse things than being stuck with two pushy teenagers..."

"Hey!"

"Sorry," Emily smirked. "A pushy teenager and a pushy adult."

"If it annoys you that much I'll move out," Mel offered humorously. "What d'you say, Prince? Should we try our luck outside our comfort zone?"

"You wouldn't last a day," Erick taunted.

"Fiddlesticks," Mel muttered, to which Harry laughed.

It was around three in the morning when someone knocked on her door. She'd been awake for a while now, so she stood up and opened it.

"Hi," She rubbed her eyes. "What's up?"

"Can't sleep," Erick mumbled. "Care if I stay a moment?"

"Go ahead..."

She went back to bed, Erick sat at the edge and stared at her for a moment. Grey let out a sleepy growl, curling further away from his reach. Erick pulled out his pocket watch, now hanging from a chain he'd found in Regulus Black's room back in Grimmauld Place. The reason why he'd taken it was unknown to Mel.

"What's up?" She mumbled, suppressing a yawn.

"I'm thinking."

"About?"

"How lucky I am."

Mel let out a puff of air without replying. He would do this often, say he was lucky to be there, that she'd saved his life... She just wanted him to shut up.

"I really don't want to punch you, Prince, I'd ruin your pretty nose."

He smiled, unbothered.

"You know, a few years ago you would've been pleased to hear me say that, you ungrateful git."

"Yeah well, a few years ago my biggest dream was to become a princess," She joked. "So you see my priorities were a bit messed up..."

"You'd make a cute princess."

"C'mon —"

"I mean it."

"Erick," Mel said in a tone of warning. "Stop."

He'd been acting like that for a whole week: flirting when no one was around, complimenting her... Mel had closed up so tightly around herself that she was barely capable of saying I love you to her mum. Erick had lived deprived of affection his whole life and was just getting out of that environment. At what point had she become the cold, distant one, and he the ray of sunshine?

She knew right away what he was trying to do, but she was so numb... Mel cared about him, but she was not there yet.

Erick leaned on the wall and tilted his head a bit so he could look at her.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" She replied. "It's not your fault... I just — I need time."

He nodded shortly.

"We can talk later?"

He was wonderful, but she was in the middle of all that was wrong in their world, right next to Harry and the lifeline that she still hadn't decided whether she wanted to keep or not.

"We should go to bed," She murmured, still unable to make any real decisions for herself.

"Yeah," He stood up, carefully putting the blankets back in place and dropping them all over Grey on purpose. He put the watch back in his pocket as well. "Sweet dreams, Mely."

The Ministry of Magic

PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK FORCES

The Wizarding community is currently under threat from an organization calling itself the Death Eaters. Observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your home from attack.

"I have a better way to protect our house," Erick groaned, he was gently rubbing his temples. "Let Leon cry the whole night and not even Voldemort will try to enter... I myself am starting to consider living on the street just to get away from the noise."

"S'not that bad," She answered, the dark circles under her eyes giving her away. "It's hard to get used to being a human, you know?"

"Look at this," Emily unfolded the newspaper. "'Scrimgeour succeeds Fudge' — Well, haven't met him yet but I hope he's got a bit of brain, Tonks told me a few months back that he's certainly a bit brisker..."

The doorbell rang and Mel left to open the door.

The routine at that point was established even if it had been only two weeks since their arrival; Erick got used to life at Privet Drive quite easily, he spent two whole days examining every corner of the kitchen, and when Mel showed him what a movie was, he wasted a whole day in the drawing-room watching the movie adaptations of the books she'd lent to him.

Harry would go daily to check on"Reg". Once he'd stayed the night but refused to sleep in Mel's room, not that she'd tried to convince him otherwise.

"Goodmorning," She opened the door without paying attention, "you're a bit late for breakfast but I'll let it pass as soon as you —"

She stopped talking at the sight of her great-uncle, Dumbledore smiled at her and walked in.

"I can't stay for breakfast, but I dare say I regret it deeply."

"Professor... I — Is everything okay?"

"Certainly."

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Mel turned to see her mother standing near the stairs, gazing at Dumbledore coldly.

"Emily," Dumbledore said. "Good morning... I'm here to speak with Mr Flint."

"Is he in trouble?"

"Quite the contrary, I believe he's never been better."

"Professor," Erick's posture changed when he walked into the room, suddenly he looked more like a young man and less like a boy. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a mission for you... Mel as well, but only if she wishes to go."

"She's not of age," The woman replied quickly.

Mel was ready to accept whatever it was he wanted her to do, she needed to feel like she was doing something. Although she wasn't exactly happy to see him so soon after the end of their last term.

"As I said, only if she wishes to come. I assure you she'd be safe."

The girl looked at her mother and then at the men standing in front of her.

"Can I hear what this is about first?"

Emily crossed her arms without uttering a word, her uncle signalled towards the couch.

"A word, then?"

Erick nodded, making a beeline to the closest armchair. Emily turned to leave, but Dumbledore spoke again.

"You can stay."

The woman shared a look with her daughter, Mel couldn't hide her eagerness to hear what the old man had to say.

"I won't sit there and watch history repeat itself," Emily sighed.

The woman left before Mel could say anything. She would talk to her later, but first, she needed to talk to Dumbledore.

"I beg you not to interrupt me while I speak."

Both pupils silently agreed to his petition.

"Now, I find myself in need of a new Professor, but the man I'd been contemplating for the job has been on the run for almost a year — He's not guilty of any crimes," He added, noticing the way their faces grew worried. "He's just afraid like everyone else... I need you to track him down and point me to where he is so I can have a word with him."

"I'll do it," Erick responded instantly.

"Alone?" Mel frowned.

Dumbledore stared at her for a second too long.

"If I remember correctly today is your sixteenth birthday, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Mr Flint turned seventeen in January — You may know that's considered to be the start of our adulthood."

"Yes."

"Erick is allowed to do magic outside school... But you still have a year left."

"I don't see —"

"You have Matthew's spirit when it comes to saving a friend, Mel. When you were eleven you left this house with Hagrid so you could look for Harry yourself... The time has come for me to finally be honest with you."

"What do you mean 'finally'?" The words were burning a hole in her brain. "You mean all the things you told me when I was in your office last month... that wasn't it?"

Erick stared at them with polite interest, even though she knew he was dying to ask. Mel hadn't told him a thing about that night out of respect for Harry's privacy.

"That was all I had to tell you regarding the Harry," Dumbledore replied. "There are plenty of things I haven't said, and I wish to talk about them with you."

"And if I agree to go with Erick on this mission... you'll tell me?" Mel raised a brow.

"I'll tell you whether you help me with this or not, but I believe there's nothing else I can teach you, Mel. All that's left for you is to start putting your knowledge to use; I recommend you to go on this mission."

"What about my animagus lessons?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore smiled. "I'll help you with that, but that'll be it. You've concluded your lessons with the highest marks, dear girl."

She would've been elated hadn't been because of the strange way her uncle was acting.

"Aren't you happy?" Erick nudged her arm gently. "You've worked hard for years, you should be proud!"

"I am proud," Mel replied shortly. "And I'd love to help, but I can't leave my family, it's not safe."

"They'd go to the burrow if you leave."

"What about Harry?"

"He'll go to the burrow too, but I have a few matters to attend with his family first."

"If Mel wants to stay that's alright, I can go on my own —"

"You can't."

Erick looked at her irritated.

"It's not like you can do magic outside school."

"It takes more than magic to survive out there — You don't know how to blend in with the muggles, do you?"

"You can discuss this throughout the day," Dumbledore grabbed a letter from his pocket. "In this, you'll find all about Horace Slughorn's last known whereabouts and a picture so you can identify him. If you do, don't approach, he'll know you're following him. As soon as you find him come back to Privet Drive and write to me."

"This is all just in case we decide to go, right?"

"I'm going," Erick scowled at her.

"We'll talk about this after dinner," She glared back.

Dumbledore stood up and they followed, Emily was at the entrance ready to let him out.

"I'll wait for your response, then," Her uncle stared at her for a moment. "You and Harry..."

"We haven't decided," She was quick to reply. "We need time."

"Very well."

"You're quiet."

"I have a lot to think about."

Her day had been slightly ruined by her great-uncle's visit. Although Lupin had been there for a couple of hours and stayed for dinner. Mel and Erick talked about the mission and she'd promised to tell Harry after the party was over, which was now.

The Slytherin was upstairs taking a shower and Emily was putting Reggie to bed. Mel and Harry were sitting on the grass, watching the stars above them. She'd fallen into contemplative silence, pondering what to do. She could go chase some stranger for Dumbledore's benefit, or she could stay and look after her family.

"This would be much easier if my mum had asked me to stay!" She pouted.

"I reckon she knows that," Harry responded, throwing small rocks over the fence.

"Won't you?"

"Hmm?"

"You won't ask me to stay?"

Harry stared at her.

"No."

He didn't explain his reasons, but he didn't need to. Mel had made up her mind even if she didn't want to admit it. That was exactly why she was so upset, she wanted to look after her family, but her responsibilities were keeping her apart. Three years of hard work had led to this, and although Mel was a big sister now, winning the war was more important than changing diapers.

Her mother was a whole different problem too. Around them she was always cheery, but Mel was sure she'd heard her cry when none of the boys was around to hear.

She believed it was about Sirius, but it could also be about her and Harry, that she was scared for them. Mel didn't have the heart to lie if her mother were to ask about the prophecy. It was, as they had agreed without even having to speak about it, too much weight to put on their loved one's shoulders. The idea of Emily, the closest thing to a mother Harry ever had, finding out there was a big chance one of them would die after having lost Sirius in such a brutal way...

"I don't think I'll be able to look at Dumbledore in the eye if I come back empty-handed..."

"You're one of the best witches I know," Harry shrugged. "You'll be fine, just try not to murder Flint while you're away."

"He's less annoying now," She grinned. "Ever since he left his parents' house, dunno, he's improved. Although I might murder him if he doesn't stop —"

She was going to say 'flirting', but for some reason, she didn't feel ready to talk about that with Harry. She wasn't ready for anything and yet the world was forcing her to keep moving, it was exhausting.

Mel got up and offered her hand to her friend.

"Do you remember when you were just Harry and I was just Mel, and we were the odd kids at school?" She fixed her gaze on her bedroom window. "Wish we could go back to that."

"When I didn't know I was a wizard?"

"Things were easier back then, don't you think?"

"Maybe," He retorted. "But they were never entirely good."

In Harry, Mel found another reason to stay.

They could have the summer to talk about the things they needed to. She would stare at his aged features and compare them to the ones of that young boy she used to call her best friend...

Their bond still had thousands of cracks that had to be fixed, Mel was having a hard time letting him in again and they needed to be okay in order to know if they wanted to keep the lifeline or not. It wasn't that she didn't want to like him, she wanted the comfort he used to provide, the warmth and security of having someone who understood.

He knew it, and he was trying his best to not mess it up, but Mel didn't want to love him again, cutting the lifeline was the best way to assure that... It was easier said than done, though.

Harry was confused. Sometimes it felt like nothing would ever happen, then an overwhelming affection would crush his chest whenever Mel laughed or touched him. He didn't want to put a name to it, he was terrified of saying it, even to himself. All he knew was that the connection was a way to make sure Mel would be safe, and he didn't want to give that up.

"I should go."

"Yeah..."

"Happy birthday," He said. "I have to be honest and tell you that your present was meant to be sent last Christmas, but..."

"I didn't give you a present either, it's okay... I'm a bit angry though, that was a missed opportunity, I could've won."

Harry laughed.

"You'll have a new chance this year, but I doubt you'll be able to beat me — I've already gotten yours..."

"It's July!"

"I know," His smile vanished suddenly, then he added. "Be careful out there, please."

"Erick'll make sure I don't do anything stupid," Mel smiled. "He's so obsessed with protecting me — as if he didn't know I can do it alone just fine!"

"Yeah, but now's different."

"Different how?"

"We need you alive," He told her. "You want to live long enough to become Headmistress, right?"

Mel froze, not knowing what to answer.

"What?" Harry tilted his head.

"I lied," She blurted out. "I never wanted to be Headmistress — I saw you that night, in the mirror... I saw..."

"What?" He asked again, this time softer.

"You kissed me. A real kiss... like the type we used to gawk at as children."

Harry cleared his throat. "Oh."

A tense silence surrounded them. The variations of colour in his eyes were remarkably easy to notice from where she was standing. She was tilting her head up now, perhaps they were too close.

"Be careful."

"You told me that already," Mel whispered, unable to look away. "Anything else you'd like to say?"

"Yes," He paused, his eyes took a quick glance to her lips. "But if I say it you'll get mad."

Harry kissed her, Mel responded by pulling him down.

It was hard to tell whether she was euphoric or scared, perhaps both, or perhaps neither. As soon as it happened Harry jumped away, and she was dropped back into reality.

"I can't do it — We haven't talked about the lifeline — We won't make the right choice if we let our feelings —"

"You're right! Yes!" Mel said, acting just as agitated. "It's a terrible idea — I like you, but—"

"—it's confusing," He said anxiously. "Do you have feelings for me?"

"Do you have feelings for me?" Mel asked in a high-pitched voice.

"No!" He responded, but his voice trembled with a lack of confidence. "I care about you a lot —"

"— I care for you too —"

"— But just —"

"— as friends!"

They stared at each other with the same frightened expression.

"I'm sorry if I made things uncomfortable," He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I... I don't want to lose you."

"We need to spend some time apart," She nodded, avoiding his eyes. "We can ignore this happened, right?"

"Absolutely," He agreed. "You're spending the summer at the burrow?"

"My mum and my brother will be there, so I kind of have to... is that okay?"

"It's okay," Harry looked around. "We... we should go."

"Did you ever regret falling for my dad?" Mel asked randomly. "I mean, you ever wonder how things would've turned out if you'd stayed as friends?"

Emily stopped folding her clothes.

"Something nagging that head of yours?"

"I think relationships are a waste of time. They all break and you always end up hurting..."

"What makes you think such nonsense?" Emily raised a brow, leaning back on the couch. "Who are you and what did you do to my daughter?"

"You don't think that way?" She asked doubtfully.

"Because I lost my partners that means I have to be bitter?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Mel replied quickly. "But... yeah."

Emily remained silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"Solitude can do weird things to your heart, love. It can pull you towards bad or good places... People that make you feel a little less lonesome, someone who understands you. You should hold onto that for as long as you can, no matter how scary it is. You never know what wonderful things may bring you..."

"Sirius said something similar a year ago," Mel said quietly. "Something about finding my equal, that the earth's full of options and stuff..."

"I won't force you to find a partner if that's not what you want, but you're young and the world is big, you can't turn your back on every opportunity."

"It's not like I have lots of prospects right now..." She huffed.

"You don't need lots, just the right one."

Mel hesitated for a moment, then added:

"I know you used to have a crush on James Potter."

Emily looked up from the laundry again, she raised a brow. "Oh?"

"I know it was a long time ago," She shifted in her place awkwardly. "But do you ever wonder what would've happened if you two..?"

The woman sighed.

"Only once."

"When?"

"When I found out Voldemort was after his son," She folded the last shirt and handed it to Mel. "I asked myself if I had made the right choice by giving him up... When I look at you I know it was the right thing to do. What happened to James and Lily... it was horrible, but it wasn't my fault. I was happy with your father; maybe Matthew wasn't my first love, but when it comes to this, your first love rarely is the one that lasts."

"Mel?" Erick walked into the room. "If we're planning to drive around all day tomorrow, you should sleep," He nodded shortly at both of them and left the room, her mother chuckled.

"You know, Erick reminds me of your father... I know Sirius said he was like his brother, but Regulus made all the wrong choices... Erick's done all this for himself, to be better. Just like Matty."

Mel's gaze lingered on the doorway long after Erick had left.

"Thank you, for letting me go," She sighed, looking back at the woman. "I don't love following Dumbledore's orders but I... I want to make this world a better place."

"Love," Emily cupped her face adoringly. "I know why you're doing this. Just how I knew why you flew that car to save Harry, and why you went to the Ministry... but you're my daughter, and it's my job to worry about you anyway."

Erick and Mel took three changes of clothing and put them in the trunk, Emily gave them muggle money. Mel had a fake driver's license as well as Erick, and they would take turns driving. Harry was nowhere to be seen, but it was expected since it was five in the morning. She hadn't mentioned the kiss to either her mother or Erick, she was determined to keep it that way, much like the whole lifeline stuff and the prophecy.

'Just pile more secrets on top, why don't you,' She thought bitterly as she walked out of the house.

Emily hugged both and let them kiss Reggie goodbye, Mel promised they would see each other soon, and Erick vowed he'd make sure Mel would be safe (she snorted loudly at this). Once inside the car, her friend took a deep breath.

"Ready?"

"This isn't our first adventure, Prince."

"This one's the first we do with permission."

"You're an adult, you don't need anyone's approval."

"You know what I mean," He rolled his eyes.

"Sorry. I get defensive when I'm —"

"I know," He sighed. "I talk too much when I'm worried."

"I know," She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I'm ready... We'll be okay."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @wlwmaximoff @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter xoc #harry potter fanfiction #WITT fic

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willadisastercry · 3 years

Text

Sleep deprived Keith annoying the crap out of the other paladins before crashing

Tw: depiction of sleep deprivation, insomnia, needles.

Keith has trouble sleeping sometimes... but this is a new level for him. His teammates can’t remember the last time he looked well slept and neither can he. They also don’t remember him being this hyper or social with them, like literally ever.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Shiro so annoyed,” Lance whispered over a crouched Pidge as they peered around the corner into the control room.

Keith was hovering around Shiro as he typed away on the panel in front of him, working out the strategy for their next mission.

“Well, if you really think about it, the Galra are kind of like space Russia, they have a lot of real estate, the people are really tall, and—hey, wait why wouldn’t we infiltrate the loading dock first? That’s the most reliable route because the lions won’t be far, we can just cloak them ya know, like all stealth? and if we go in where...”

“I think his mouth is twitching, watch. There it is, it did it again!” Pidge pointed out, her eyes wide in amazement.

The older boy’s mouth was indeed twitching, the corner pulling up like he wanted to say something as well as drop someone, but he refrained from both.

“I think I would’ve punted Keith across the room by now... do you think Shiro meditates, he must meditate, ya know? He’s always so calm and reasonable, always telling us that we have to breathe and whatever, no one can possibly be that zen without—“

But before Lance could finish his analysis on Shiro’s freak ability to be so zen, the basis of his argument shattered with an explosion from their team leader.

“I can’t even hear myself think, Keith!” Shiro started, a vein very visibly pumping away on his forehead as his face took on a dark flush.

“I have been watching the same surveillance loop for five minutes now beccause I can’t focus with you rambling in my ear!”

The red paladin’s face fell, his antsy pacing halted and his hands tapping his side like he was anticipating something. He took a breath. He hadn’t realized he’d started trembling.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—fuck,” Keith said before turning away, “I’ll leave you alone.”

Lance and Pidge nearly toppled over with how aggressively they flung themselves away from where they had been perched while they eavesdropped. Mostly out of curiosity at how Shiro would handle a manic-ly energetic Keith.

They could hear Shiro cursing under his breath, then ushering an apology for being so harsh but Keith likely didn’t hear it as he hightailed it out of there. He moved so quickly he didn’t even notice the pair as they stood planted in the center of the hallway failing to feign even the slightest of nonchalance.

Shiro ducked his head out to find that Keith had already disappeared and became wildly flustered when he found the very guilty-looking pair instead.

“Uhuh,” he cleared his throat, “do you guys know what’s going on with Keith? I didn’t mean to be such a dick, but he’s like next level tweaking out and I have no idea why...”

“Uh, we’re not sure either,” Pidge replied, “but he’s been like this all morning.”

“Yeah, he made Coran snap and crack a crystal in half earlier...”

“Oooo and Allura stained her dress when he wouldn’t shut up about how human mice carry infection and probably shouldn’t be near food and then she like flung her coffee...”

“And poor Hunk was trying to entertain his ramblings about the how hard it is to attain cinnamon in space and that it should be rationed and ended up burning a whole batch of snickerdoodles...”

“He was bouncing off the walls, it was weird” Pidge resolved. “And Keith never has that much energy.”

“Yeah, he’s been rambling, that’s my thing! The kid hardly says more than five words in one sentence and now he can’t shut up,” Lance added, scratching his head.

“Okay,” Shiro looked like he was running over in his head a million possibilities of what could be wrong, “will you two go check on him for me... and let him know I didn’t mean to yell at him?”

“Of course.”

“We’ll let you know if we figure it out,” Lance promised before they started after their friend.

They checked the common room first as it was the next room on their way and found only a grumpy Hunk scraping the singed bits off of the plate of cookies in front of him.

“D’you see Keith?” Pidge asked, surveying the sight before her.

“No,” he gruffed sadly, taking a bite of one of the cookies and breaking it off with a loud snap.

“Okay, keep an eye out, we think something’s wrong...” Lance looked around, “I know where he might’ve gone but we have to grab something first, let’s go.”

They took off at an urgent trot, once again more out of curiosity than concern because this just didn’t occur. Keith is a guy of few words, so when he speaks it’s usually sarcasm, not a rapid flurry of silly questions that seem more like the goofy blue paladin than the tempered red. This was weird for him. And they just wanted to know why.

But their curiosity changed quickly into fear as soon as they entered the hallway of the training room because they could hear the intense whir of the simulator working. From down the hall.

“Shit Keith,” Lance said activating their bayards they stopped to pick up on the way.

“He’s got it on the highest setting—not even Shiro can handle that intensity solo,” Pidge noted as they raced for the door.

“This kid’s got a death wish,” Lance deadpanned as he wrenched the doors of the training room open, only to be immediately met with Keith’s strangled scream as his head snapped against the floor with a sickening crack, the sentry that threw him across the room quickly closing the distance between them.

Lance ran forward and knelt down, slowly lining up shots and taking down the new sentries as soon as they regenerated while Pidge made her way to the kill switch.

By the time she got to the lever and tugged it all the way down Keith was dangling from his twisted arm and throat, shuddering gasps the only noise he was able to make in protest.

Lance had just taken out the second sentry cornering Keith with a head shot when every robot assailant powered down at once, the one choking Keith releasing his grip on his throat first, his arm pulling at an awkward angle as he fell before it was released. The pale boy let out a shrill gush before clamping his lips together tightly and pulling his slumped form up with the help of the wall.

“What the fuck was that, mullet?!”

He refused to make eye contact with his worried friends as he went to storm out like before, but this time he moved slowly, gingerly.

“I needed a good workout... to clear my head,” was all he managed. They could tell he didn’t want to let on that he was in pain, but the way he grimaced when his arm swung as he walked as well as the obvious bump protruding from his shoulder where no bone should be told them otherwise.

“Oh, that’s a load! That was not a good workout, that was a good ass-whooping! And I’m not entirely sure there’s anything left in your head to clear after the way it smacked the—“

“You’re hurt,” Pidge blurted. “The sentry dislocated your shoulder, I’m staring at the head of your right humerus and I shouldn’t be able to do that...”

“Oh... huh,” was all the mind he seemed willing to pay to his injury, his eyes bleary and wider than usual as he continued to walk away from them, but they persisted.

“We’re taking you to get that checked out by Coran. Right now,” Lance ordered.

“I’m good,” he assured, shouldering the door with his other arm.

Lance reached the door handle first and pulled on it, keeping Keith from going anywhere and spurring a low groan when his bad shoulder was jolted.

“Lance...”

He looked so tired.

He closed his eyes and continued to lean heavily into the hulking door of the training room. Under the bright artificial lights his skin looked greyer than it usually did, every bone in his face sickly accentuated and sharpened, the staple bags underneath his eyes hanging heavier than ever.

“Keith, you’re hurt and something else is obviously wrong so NO, we’re not letting you storm off to go pout to maintain your stup—“

“Shut up—“

Keith’s vision tunneled, his eyes fixed in a clearly unfocused haze as he stared at nothing.

“What?” Lance questioned, very caught off guard by the sudden interjection.

“I s-said shut u-up,” he whispered as he sucked in a shuddering breath.

The shrillness of Lance’s chastisement made his head swim and he blinked away the haze that came with the sudden levity.

“Hey, take it easy...”

It seemed the more he tried to control the tremor in his voice the worse his entire body seemed to shake.

He was fading; he could feel it.

The exhaustion had given way to anxiety as the adrenaline dripped dry allowing him to fully feel the pain in his shoulder as it pulsed angrily.

It was like the tide was washing out, the tumultuous waves of the storm that settled itself in his chest receding just before the next wave surged, and then he could feel everything he’d been ignoring.

Every individual bone seemed to ache with weariness and the pressure behind his tired eyes was so immense that it made him unsteady.

“Woah, what’s going on man?”

The floor suddenly seemed to shift beneath him, like he was walking on one of those moving conveyer belts in the airport that made your feet feel weird once you were back on solid ground.

“I think you should sit down,” Pidge urged, tugging worriedly at the hem of his shirt.

As much as his pride wanted him to protest he couldn’t seem to muster enough energy to even disagree let alone have a shred of cofidence that he could possibly get himself back to his room on his own.

They seemed to understand by his silence that he wouldn’t push away their help now and then he could feel firm hands on his good shoulder and back, guiding his trembling frame down to the floor where he came to rest his head on the knee that wasn’t bouncing.

“Where you at, mullet?”

The tinier hand had never left the middle of his back and rubbed soothing circles on the tense muscles beneath it.

“Can you tell us what you feel like right now?” Pidge asked before moving a hand to steady his restless leg.

He took a strained breath.

“D-dizzy... c-cold maybe, I-I don’t know why I can’t stop s-shaking.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry about that.”

“Here, this’ll help,” Lance added as he draped his jacket over Keith’s back, careful to not have it touch his injury.

“How’s your shoulder? Is anything else hurting?”

Keith thought about it for a solid minute, finding it sort of difficult to organize his thoughts and give Pidge an answer.

“Hurts a lot. S-so does my head... I have a headache—maybe... maybe a migraine I d-don’t know.”

“Is that what was bothering you before? The lights are pretty bright in here so that’s probably not helping... why don’t we start heading to the infirmary, before it gets worse?”

He nodded slowly against his knee and lifted his head up, his eyes still pressed together tightly. He pried one open to test his head but the swirling nausea and general agony that followed was answer enough.

“You don’t have to keep them open if it hurts.”

He hummed in acknowledgment and steeled himself as they took up his good arm and pulled him to his feet then waited for him to give the go ahead before making their way.

It was almost worse when his eyes were closed. The pounding in his head had only increased while they guided him, each step rattling his brain around so painfully that it almost distracted him from the instense heat in his shoulder.

He didn’t know why his head hurt so bad and why it was making his eyes so sensitive. He knew he’d hid it, but not hard enough to warrant this. He was also really tired, practically jumping out of his skin every few moments when he let his head tip forward slightly as if to nod off, which was entirely strange and alarming seeing as he was so drowsy he almost fell asleep while still walking.

He hadn’t noticed when they made it to the infirmary, only realizing when he was being pushed to sit down on something and a light was being shone across his now opened eyes.

“No! Oh-ouch,” he inhaled sharply when the light retreated and he was left seeing a blurred strip of bright white across his field of vision.

“I apologize, my boy, it had to be done. No concussion though! We have dimmed the lights for your comfort, the aversion is most peculiar given your injuries... “

He proded Keith’s shoulder blade and the inflamed area around it, earning a hiss when he tested the dexterity of the limb.

“The scanner detects significant ligament damage that will need to be corrected in a pod after I er... set the joint in its proper place. It will hurt for only a tick and I have several nerve blockers and muscle relaxers I can inject in the area to make the process less painful. Does that sound manageable to—“

But Coran didn’t get to hear Keith’s answer, the way his face greened and he clamped a hand over mouth was telling enough. He bit back a sob as he lurched forward, not enough time or notice for anyone to prepare before Keith was dry heaving, but they didn’t really need to worry because nothing but saliva came up.

“Were you at all ill before this today? This is the first time you’ve been sick to your stomach... when was the last time you ate?”

Silence only followed for a dobash before all three launched into different themes of admonition, but they all had the same anger to them. He knew they meant well, that they were just worried, but the bite to their words made his eyes sting like hell and he was seriously worried he wouldn’t be able to keep the tears at bay before Shiro was there telling them to be quiet.

He turned his head away and tried to breathe normally, but his chest was working up and his head throbbed pitifully and the movement made the burning in his shoulder deepen to where he had to hold his breath to keep from aggravating it. But Shiro’s warm, human hand was pulling his face towards his own, his eyes taking in Keith’s form and coming to several conclusions at once, the tension everywhere, the darkness under his eyes, the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands shook entwined about themselves...

“Keith,” his voice was so low and warm, he felt his chest pang at the gentleness in it. He closed his eyes, he knew what was coming next and he was both relieved and terrified for it.

“When was the last time you got a solid night’s sleep?”

He waited, even though they both already knew the answer and then it was when his hand moved to cup the top of his head that he finally broke. He didn’t need to speak for Shiro to know the answer.

Too long. It had been entirely too long since Keith could remember going to bed and waking up refreshed, each night only more frustrating than the last as he laid his head on his pillow and closed his eyes, knowing full well it wouldn’t work. Nothing did.

This week had been too much though. Running on empty on far too many missions followed by a dozen insomnia-induced late night training sessions trying to tire himself out in order to snag only a few hours of rest.

He’d just kept excerting himself and not ever properly recharging, but not on purpose, he physically couldn’t.

That part wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t help that, but he could let people know he was struggling and he had purposefully not alerted Shiro.

“Shit, Keith,” Shiro murmured with Keith’s forehead on his chest as he held back the sound of his crying, “you have to tell me when it gets bad like this! It’s not safe for you to be fighting and training when you’re not properly rested, you know that...”

Coran resumed analyzing his shoulder.

“And now you’re hurt because I snapped at you—Keith, I’m so sorry, I should’ve realized...”

“D-dont,” he managed through stiff breaths as Coran worked his bad arm gently out of his shirt, “s’not your fault, never is.”

Shiro set his jaw and eyed Coran who looked at him sadly and nodded.

“This conversation is far from over, but we have to get that shoulder fixed right now.”

Coran asked Pidge to gather some supplies and Lance to help him brace Keith.

“You’ll feel a small pinch in your arm now.”

He did. The area felt cold with the liquid that was now under his skin and Coran rubbed it for a minute before moving near his collarbone.

“This one might burn, but you’ll find it entirely numb in a dobash.”

This one was quicker, less to inject, longer to rub in so it spread. It burned and itched, earning a groan before he felt less of Coran’s fingers and more of just pressure.

“Oh, that’s... better.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

He felt someone kneeling behind him holding just below his shoulder and around his chest. Someone else was in front of him holding his arm up with their hand on his other shoulder, Shiro’s hands on his shaking one.

“Now I trust you’re familiar with what is about to happen, do you want me to explain what I am doing or—“

“Don’t explain, just—“

The pain that exploded with the hollow pop that followed was even grosser than the sound itself. Keith’s vision whited for a second and he was immediately ashen and panting as his body worked through the shock of the correction, his ears rang and so he wasn’t sure if he had screamed or not but with the way his throat ached he’d assumed he had.

Exhaustion weighed on him like a sopping wet blanket, making it difficult to keep his head up let alone his entire upper body. He wasn’t sure how long he had been leaned against Shiro’s chest once he started coming back to himself and realized he was the only thing keeping him upright.

Something was compressing his shoulder, pulling in places he didn’t quite like as it was wrapped tightly around the still damaged joint, making its way around his chest and back several times. Shiro held him away for a moment while something fell around his neck that held his arm against his chest and had an attachment to secure it to his side.

He tried to open his eyes and see what was going on but they were so very heavy and he was in awe of how he wasn’t entirely asleep by now, almost thankful for the steady ache behind his eyes as it was forcing him to keep them closed.

“You still there, Keith?”

He hummed into Shiro’s shirt in response.

“Hey, so we’re going to forgo the pod to repair all the torn ligaments for a little while. Coran thinks it’s best that you catch up on your sleep without the being frozen part... we’ll see how you’re feeling tomorrow, does that sound alright to you?”

It sounded superb to him. Truly.

He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline crash or the general daze from sleep deprivation, but he was entirely checked out. Sufficiently out of it to care much about anything other than Coran’s lovely altean painkillers and the comfy pillow his head was now resting on.

Once he was laid down he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness almost immediately, the last thing he knew before he was consumed in bliss was the blanket that was being pulled up to his chest and Shiro calming words.

“Rest, buddy.”

And he finally did because now he actually could.

He wasn’t sure if it was the level of exhaustion he’d brought himself to or the threat of pain when he awoke, but whatever it was keeping him asleep he was grateful for it. Coran never even had to administer a sedative to keep him down during the night, just pain killers so he wouldn’t be woken up by his shoulder.

He slept for a day and a half after that, everyone taking turns watching over him while he slept so Shiro didn’t bring upon himself a similar fate.

The next time he was conscious coming deep into the next night, nearly early morning. Shiro stirred in the chair he was posted up in when Keith groaned and tried to turn over but cried out instead.

“Crap, what—hey... you’re okay,” Shiro soothed as he held Keith’s searching hand away from the thick layer of bandages covering his shoulder.

“It hurts, Shiro! It h-hurts!”

“I know, Keith, I know it hurts.”

Shiro sounded sad, Keith didn’t want to make him sad.

“I’m sorry...”

“You don’t need to be sorry for anything, bud.”

“I was stupid, I shoulda t-told you—just didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’m always going to worry about you, Keith. All of us are going to worry until you stop giving us reasons to,” he laughed weakly as he ran his hand through Keith’s hair while his breathing returned to normal.

“And until then, we’ll be here to make sure you don’t get pulverized by the training simulators and aren’t walking around delirious from not having slept in a week, okay?”

“Aha, yeah... okay.”

He tried to doze off again, but the steady pulse of pain in his shoulder seemed to prevent it. After an hour of trying, Shiro called Coran in who agreed it was also time to go into a pod.

“You will feel as good as new in no time, number four.”

Keith nodded absently as he rested his head back against the cushion in the cryopod before its doors closed with a whoosh and then cold surrounded him, lulling him off into another much needed sleep.

#keith whump #whumpee #vld #voltron whump #voltron fic #whump tropes #keith kogane #voltron fandom #keith angst #sleep deprived af #vld shiro #takashi shirogane #vld lance #vld pidge #worried teammates #keith needs a nap

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isitgintimeyet · 4 years

Text

Just a Friend

So I finally started to write another story...

I will try and post weekly, but can’t promise on account of real life and my inability to actually focus on translating what’s in my head onto paper (or screen!)

Getting the courage to post never gets any easier, but here goes. I hope you enjoy this frothy bit of fun. I will also post on AO3.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for being an excellent beta.

Chapter 1: From Airport to Aggravation

Bank holiday crowds, on the whole, are hell.

And this one is rapidly turning into an even deeper level of purgatory. The hottest May for years in Scotland and I’m stuck at Glasgow airport with a dozen women, collectively known as ‘Geillis’s Hen Party Posse’, each displaying varying degrees of inebriation, hangover or general sleep deprivation, and all aiming for the luggage carousel showing the flight from Barcelona. Which apparently is where several hundred other disembarked passengers are also heading.

Eventually, I manage to get a view of the bags and cases slowly making their way around the belt. They’re pretty picked over by this time, apart from the couple of boxes covered in gaffer tape that always seem to be first off a plane—any plane—and last to be collected. They’re always there, on every flight. Why is that?

I pause from my musings to wave frantically at Geillis, who now has a trolley and is clearing a path straight towards me.

“I got us a trolley.” she informs me, stating the obvious. “I thought it’d be easier. Have ye seen ours yet, Claire? I canna see the others. They must have already gone through.”

“No,” I answer, keeping my eyes firmly on the little hatch, willing our bags to appear. All I want is to go home, put my sleep mask on and try and get some sleep. Three days in Barcelona celebrating Geillis’s forthcoming nuptials have worn me out, and, I glance at my watch, I am due in theatre in approximately seventeen hours time.

"It's there, it's there," Geillis points excitedly at the neon pink and green leopard print bag making its way towards us.

She makes a grab for it as I continue to look for my bag. Predictably, it’s one of the last ones on the carousel. I recognise it immediately from the piece of red gift ribbon tied to the handle of the plain black Samsonite. I load it onto the trolley and Geillis and I head through customs to join the rest of the posse.

We say our goodbyes loudly, with much hugging and kisses. A stranger viewing this scene might imagine we won’t be seeing each other again for weeks or even months. In truth, I’ll be seeing most of them in the next week or so at the hospital as our schedules coincide.

“Shall we two get a taxi, then?” Geillis asks me.

I start to answer as my mobile pings — a text from Frank...very nice, very caring, very predictable.

Darling, it’s been a long three days without you. I am ready to collect you from the airport if you would like. If not, might I see you later this evening? xxx

And that is very clearly Frank. Correct grammar and punctuation, even on his texts. I shake my head as if to drive away my inner bitch and pretend I haven’t read it. I will respond, of course, just later when I’m back at home.

So, I smile at Geillis and agree. “Of course, we can go halves.”

***********

As I walk into my flat, the peace and quiet and sheer bloody calm wraps itself around me like a swaddling cloth. It’s blissfully cool too, with all the shutters closed.

It’s not that I didn’t have a good time in Barcelona. It was actually great. But being in the company of others twenty four hours a day is wearing, much as I love them. And we all had to do everything together. No sneaking off for a solitary walk, or escaping to bed for a little siesta.

I deposit my suitcase by the bedroom door, slip off my converse, pour myself a glass of orange juice, settle down on the sofa and figure out how best to tell Frank not tonight without offending him.

Frank, Sorry but tonight isn’t —

I delete and try again.

Thanks for the offer to pick me up. I was already in the taxi when I got it. Can we give tonight a miss? Theatre in the morning and I’m knackered totally exhausted. You know what Geillis is like. Speak tomorrow, I promise. C

Frank knows what Geillis is like. Frank thinks Geillis is a bad influence on me, with her larger than life personality and wild ideas. I think Frank doesn’t really know me at all if he believes I can be influenced like that. I hang out with Geillis and my friends because they’re fun and we laugh… a lot.

Without realising, I feel my shoulder muscles relax as soon as I’ve sent the message. These are not good signs for my relationship with Frank. He’s investing far more into ‘us’ than I am willing to do. But as long as I’m honest with him…

There are advantages to being with Frank, of course. He’s punctual, very organised and a proficient and considerate lover. He always makes sure I come, even if I sometimes...er… exaggerate my reactions to hurry things along. So much for honesty, then.

I finish my orange juice and plan my evening. Four things to do - unpack, grab some food, shower and sleep. Not even going to wash my hair. That would really be too much effort, struggling with my untameable mane, and it’s going to be stuck under a surgical cap for most of tomorrow anyway.

It takes a bit of effort to actually move from the sofa. I could quite happily fall asleep there. But then I’d wake up in the middle of the night—starving hungry and still smelling of sweaty airports. Reluctantly, I haul myself into a vertical position and head for my bedroom picking up my suitcase en route.

Opening the suitcase, I am not greeted with the expected haphazard mass of sun dresses, t shirts and shorts—all with the evocative aroma of Hawaiian Tropic—but a layer of white dress shirts, immaculately folded and the faint scent of a musky cologne.

Shit, shit, shit!! Some else has walked off with my black samsonite with the red ribbon on the handle. My evening plans are rapidly going awry. I delve into my handbag praying that I kept my boarding pass with the sticky bar code luggage receipt. The relief when I find it lurking in the bottom of my bag is immense. Quickly I google the airline lost baggage number and dial.

After a few bars of some god awful plinky plinky hold music, I hear a recorded message. “Your call is important to us, please hold. Your call is important to us, please hold.”

Good to know, then back to the plinky plinky before another message. “The office you are trying to reach is now closed. Please try again during office hours nine am to five thirty. Thank you.”

“If my call is so important to you, why is no one there at six o’clock?” I yell down the phone, but the plinky plinky ignores me and continues its irritating melody.

I sigh. I don’t want to have to wait until tomorrow morning to sort this out. Besides, by nine am tomorrow morning, I will be somewhat unavailable - reshaping the hip bone of a seven year old boy. So, I have no alternative. I will have to have a bit of a dig around this stranger’s suitcase, looking for any clue or contact details.

As I start to have a feel around, it occurs to me that some stranger might, at this very moment, be doing exactly the same thing — having a poke around my suitcase in the hope of finding my details. No doubt judging me based on my choice of holiday attire. And, I suddenly realise, his judgement may well be coloured by the discovery of some items of a more adult nature.

I say ‘he’, based on the XL white shirts, the pair of battered jeans and faded Scotland rugby shirt, but I could be wrong. I don’t have to dig any further into the case as I spy, in a mesh pocket, a neat rectangle of card with a name — James Fraser — a mobile number and an email address.

Relief sweeps over me. Perhaps we can get this all sorted tonight. Unless this James Fraser lives miles away and was just passing through Glasgow on his way to, say, the Outer Hebrides. That could be a whole other level of problem.

I quickly reach for my phone. Another message from Frank awaits.

Are you sure, darling? I’m looking forward to seeing you. Would tomorrow evening work for you?

I ignore it for the moment. Let me sort my luggage issue out first.

I dial the number on the card and begin to pace around my bedroom as it rings and rings. I am just about to give up when, thankfully, it’s answered.

“Hello?” A female voice asks warily.

I clear my throat and put on my most pleasant phone voice. “Is there a James Fraser there please?”

“Ye’ve the wrong number.”

“Oh, sorry, I must have mis—“ I begin, but find myself apologising to dead air.

I try again, carefully comparing each digit to those written, very neatly, on the card.

“Hello?” The same female voice answers, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I’m sorry, but this is the number I have for James Fra—“

“And I already told ye, ye’ve the wrong number. Dinna bother again.”

In the days before mobiles, I’m sure this would have been accompanied by a deafening crash as the receiver hit the cradle. Pressing a soft key doesn’t have the same dramatic effect. But I get the message anyway.

So, new plan needed. All I can do is email this James Fraser and hope he actually has written down the correct email address. If not, I’ll have to sort it out with the airline tomorrow afternoon.

My stomach rumbles and I suddenly realise that I’ve not eaten since breakfast, unless you count the slices of fruit in my jug of sangria. I wander into the kitchen and peruse the contents of my cupboards and fridge. I’m not the most gifted cook, but I’m not too bad and can usually rustle up something edible and fairly tasty. The bread feels a bit on the dry side but will be fine toasted, and I know I have eggs.

I put a knob of butter in a pan and text Frank while I’m waiting for it to sizzle.

Think tomoz will be ok. Talk 2morrow. C

I don’t normally use text speak at all, but something about Frank’s perfectly formed text messages always makes me want to rebel. I can imagine him wincing right now. He’s a professor at the university and is forever complaining about the standard of literacy amongst his undergraduates. If he thinks he has problems, he should try dealing with junior doctors.

With my scrambled egg on toast all eaten, I focus my attention on the email to James Fraser. I write it quickly, brief and to the point: I have your suitcase and therefore presume you have mine, can we meet to swap them over and here’s my phone number.

The longing for a shower and then bed is now overwhelming. I strip off and bundle all my clothes into the laundry basket, tie my hair up with a scrunchie and step into my shower. This is undoubtedly one of my favourite places on earth and possibly the reason that I bought this flat. Large enough for two, I suppose. Although none have yet been invited to partake in this heavenly experience. Maybe I’m saving that for someone extra special. It has a huge overhead rainfall shower head and a handheld shower head too.

My indulgences are all in here — a selection of expensive shower gels, scrubs and lotions and an assortment of huge fluffy bath towels. I choose a lavender scented gel and scrub all traces of the day from my skin.

Wrapping myself in one of my pristine white towels, I slather shea butter lotion on my slightly sun-burnt skin, noticing the uneven red patches where the sun cream hadn’t quite reached but at least it’s not sore.

A quick check of my emails shows there’s no word from James Fraser as yet, so I decide to just settle down to sleep and leave luggage worries until the morning. Fortunately, I had changed the sheets before my weekend away, so I simply unwrap my towel, leaving it in a heap on the floor and slide into bed. The feeling of the cool, crisp bedding against my skin is wonderful. I assume a sort of diagonal starfish position, not having to worry about any other occupants. It crosses my mind whether to reach for the tiny vibrator in my bedside drawer, but I’m too comfortable and drowsy for that, so instead I check my alarm and settle down for sleep.

#outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Just a Friend #chapter 1 #Here goes

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actuallybarb · 3 years

Text

The Aftermath ~ Part 2

Summary: y/n gets knocked around by a water monster, has secret-sharing time with peter, and decides mj is more important than her pride. sleep deprivation and caffeine consumption are definitely involved.

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mysterio being a dick, trauma, it’s marvel what did you expect

Word Count: 3978 give or take

A/N: endgame is canon, *vomits*, but we’ve all got a thing for broken peter parker, even if all i want is his never ending happiness

///////////

“I can’t believe you punched Flash.” Brad, of course, decided to sit next to me on the gondola ride to the hotel. Figures.

“You better believe it, ‘cuz it actually happened.” I tried to pay as little attention to him as possible and just take pictures on my phone, but he kept talking.

“Why don’t you like me?”

I groaned. “Because, Brad, you ask stupid questions like that.”

We pulled up to the hotel and were all sufficiently underwhelmed.

“It’s flooded!”

“The hotel is sinking?”

I considered helping the hotel out, at least while we stayed at it, but there wasn’t much hope left for it. I took my room key and thanked my lucky stars I didn’t have a room on the ground level. In fact, I was sharing with MJ. I waited patiently behind her as she jiggled the door open.

“Is it safe to assume the building will crumble any second now?”

MJ burst out laughing. “I think that’s an understatement.”

“If I get TB, I’m suing.”

“The hotel?”

“Harrington.”

She smiled. “C’mon, let’s get outside before we drown.”

We walked along the water and let the sun happily reflect on our exhausted faces. Everyone was enjoying themselves, but I was starting to feel queasy. It was almost imperceptible, but I could feel the city moving with the water, and it was making me sick. I started lagging back and tried to find my “sea legs,” but Peter noticed and stuck back too. “You alright?”

I plastered on a weak smile. “That long flight is catching up with me. I’m just going to grab an espresso, I’ll meet up with you guys soon.” He looked at me one more time before nodding and meeting the rest of the group.

I didn’t completely lie — I was getting an espresso. But I wasn’t going to catch up with them, at least, not for a while. I needed to get away from the water, even just for a little bit.

I can’t fly, per se. I can control the air currents around me and change them how I want them too, like I did on the airplane with the turbulence. I can do that with most elements, (except wood, I hate wood) and that gives me a heightened awareness of them. I’m basically the Avatar and the characters from Percy Jackson. All I have to do is shave my head and tattoo blue arrows on my body. (And, yes, I did watch all seven seasons of the two series and read all ten Percy Jackson books to actually figure out what the hell it was that I could do. It helped. Clearly.)

I just lifted myself to the top of the coffee shop. I’m a sucker for espresso, I like to be close to it. The distance helped. I felt grounded enough to walk on the normal streets of Venice again, but when I touched down, I suddenly lurched to the right.

“What the hell,” I muttered. I got my answer soon enough. A huge river monster was crashing its giant water arms on anything it could see. And I was directly in its path. “Oh, shit.”

I shouldn’t have been as terrified as I was. I mean, come on, I can control water. Dissipate the water man, Y/N, I can almost hear you yelling at me. Shut up, I was scared. This thing was twice as tall as any of the buildings, and it had a direct path to anywhere in the city. Me, a seventeen year old girl, against that? Not a good idea.

So, like any logical human being, I ran. And I still got clobbered with water and ended up actually falling into the water. Let me just tell you, Italy needs to get a Brita, ‘cause their river is nasty.

But, once I was actually in the water, the river monster looked a lot less intimidating. Sure, the water was churning around and sucking everything into its path, but I was in my element — literally. I got close to it, like, really close. I pushed against the flow of the water and tried to stop the monster from forming, and it worked, for a little bit. It slowed down, and I got some newfound momentum, when all of the sudden, it all stopped, and tons of water crashed to the surface. That was my cue to leave, but then something caught my eye. A flash of metal was in the water. Luck would have it, though, that I could bend water and metal (shout out to Toph Beifong). I latched onto the metal and pulled it close to me, but I couldn’t make out what it was. Didn’t mean I would trash it though, this water was disgusting enough. I tucked it in my pocket and started swimming to the surface.

I got out of the water actually pretty close to the rest of the class, but I was the only one completely drenched.

“Oh, Y/N, good! We’re all here,” Mr. Harrington celebrated. “Let’s get back to the hotel, your families will want to know you’re all fine.”

“You’re soaked.”

I shivered, even though it wasn’t cold. The temperature difference between the water and the air was enough to make me shake. “Astute observation, Brad.”

“Here, you can have my jacket.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want it.” I kept walking and managed to bump into Peter. “You got wet too?”

“Just splashed. Did you get thrown in?”

“Yeah, the bastard caught me by surprise. I’m okay, just cold.”

“Here.” Peter slung his backpack around and took out a mostly dry sweatshirt. He gestured it my way, but I didn’t take it. “It’s just a jacket, Y/N. You’ll get a cold with your hair dripping all around you.”

I knew that wasn’t how colds worked, but I took it anyway and let it soak in the water from my hair. It helped, surprisingly, at least making me not shiver. We made it back to the hotel with no other complications, aside from Flash tripping over his own shoelace because he was too busy recording for his Instagram followers to pay attention to where he was going. I quickly went upstairs and changed out of my clothes, putting on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt that used to belong to Jessica. The room had a tiny balcony, and I took advantage of it and laid out all of my clothes and Peter’s sweatshirt. The last thing MJ or I needed was a puddle of water to slip in.

I went back downstairs and sat close to the top of the stairs, not wanting to get anywhere near the water at the bottom. MJ was a few steps below me, and Peter was leaning against the stairs, talking to someone on the phone. He hung up, and I slipped past MJ and wrapped around to the phone. I was about to dial, when I remembered something. “Hey, Peter.”

“What’s up?”

I pulled him away from the stairs and whispered, “Is the plan still working?”

“The—oh, that plan. Uh, yeah, I think so. I got her this necklace of a black dahlia from a glass shop, and I want to give it to her at the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

I smiled. “That’s adorable. I’m going to use the phone, do you mind?”

“Oh, sorry, I’ll get out of your way.” We smiled at each other, then I grabbed the receiver and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh my—John, it’s her. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Harrington wanted all of us to call our parents, so this is me, doing my due diligence. We’re still set for Paris tomorrow, so I’ll call you then, okay? Love you.” I didn’t even really wait for them to respond before I hung up. Truth was, I didn’t want to talk to them. I didn’t really want to talk to anyone, but I had to make one more phone call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jess, it’s Y/N. You watch the news nonstop, so I figured I’d call, let you know I’m okay.”

“Thank god, I was so worried about you. What happened?”

“This water monster literally came out of nowhere and knocked me straight into the murky junk, it was disgusting.”

“Were you able to help at all?” Jess was one of two other people in the world who knew about what I could do. She was the one who bought me the tv shows and books, of course she knew.

“I slowed it down at some point, but then all of a sudden it just dissipated, it was weird. I did find this weird metal thing in the water, I picked it up. I’ll send you a picture of it when I get the chance.”

“Okay. Call me soon, got it?”

“Count on it. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore, so I walked up the stairs, ready to succumb to the moldy mattress in my room. Unfortunately, I had to collect my clothes.

Everything was nearly dry, and Peter’s sweatshirt was definitely dry, so I brought them inside. I almost didn’t want to give Peter his sweatshirt back, just because it was so soft, but knowing him, it was probably the only one he brought, so I walked the ten feet to his front door and knocked. I wasn’t told not to enter, so I turned the knob and walked in. “Hey, Pete, I—“ I stopped with my hand by my face, terrified. A small dart was less than an inch away from my palm. I turned to the man in the corner who was holding the gun. “Did you just try to shoot me?”

“You’re the one who came barging in.” The scary looking guy with the eyepatch leaned forward. “What’s your name?”

I laughed heartlessly. “Ha, yeah, like I’m going to tell the man who just pulled a gun on me.” I looked at Peter and threw his jacket at him. “I brought this back.” Then I turned to the man in the chair. I crunched the dart, letting it fold on top of itself before his eyes, then I let it fall to the floor. “You can keep that.” I looked at Peter one more time, then slammed the door on my way out.

MJ was laying on her bed when I walked back in, but she could tell something was up. She had impeccable observational skills. “You good?”

I was pacing, a bad habit I picked up after The Snap first happened. “I just need to look something up.”

“Well, the hotel might be sinking, but they’ve at least got good wifi.”

I finally sat and opened my laptop, then turned on my VPN and put the whole device on ‘incognito mode.’ I had some serious investigations to conduct, I didn’t need the government to see what I was doing. Okay, I only had one serious investigation, but that could possibly have lead to more, so I kept my guard up.

First search: scary-looking black man with an eyepatch. The guy’s face was the first image that popped up. Nick Fury. Ex-director of SHIELD before all of that went to shit. Now he’s running some ‘underground’ SHIELD, I guess. Now I know the guy’s name.

But why was he talking to Peter? And why did he shoot me?

I was up all night doing research. Not just on Nick Fury, but on the metal piece I had found in the water, the Avengers, and as much as I could find on Peter Parker himself. Sooner than I thought, the sun peeked between the curtains at the window and MJ’s alarm came blaring through the speakers on her phone.

“Morning,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and finally taking a break from my computer screen.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Are you going to yell at me if I say no?” MJ just pursed her lips. I knew she wouldn’t.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve pulled an all nighter. At least this one was productive.

“What’s on your bed?” She picked up a small spring and looked it over before putting it back beside the rest of the pieces of the metal thing. “Did you take apart your toothbrush?”

I chuckled. “No, I found this thing in the river when I got knocked in. I didn’t know what it was, so I took it apart.”

“Have you figured it out?”

“Not yet.” I rubbed my eyes again and groaned. “We’re going to Paris today, right?”

“Yeah.” MJ stood and stretched and I caught the smallest smile on her face when she replied. I smiled too and packed up my project. Something for another late night.

We were escorted outside with our luggage in tow, but Mr. Harrington happily informed us we would be taking a bus to Prague instead of a train to Paris. You’ve got to be kidding.

Peter was walking to the bus in front of me, but I grabbed his arm and dragged him away. “What the hell, Peter?”

“You can control metal?” He was in awe. His admiration would’ve been flattering if I wasn’t so pissed.

“You had Nick Fury in your room last night. I almost got shot last night. What the hell is going on?”

“It was only a tranquilizer, you would’ve been fine—“

“That’s not the point, Parker!” I basically hissed at him. He looked a little surprised that I was so upset. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down enough to not start shouting. “We were attacked by a water monster, I almost got shot, I didn’t sleep, and now four people in the world know what I can do, so give me some damn answers, because I sure as hell deserve them.”

Peter looked around, like he was looking for an escape, but I was ready. I might not have slept in almost 48 hours, but I wasn’t going to let him get away so easily.

Then Harrington was calling us over to the bus. Perfect timing.

“Can we talk on the bus?”

I nodded and let him lead the way to the back. Surprisingly we were the only ones that occupied those seats and the ones surrounding, but that’s what happens when you get a bunch of nerds in the same vehicle—they all sit in the front. He sat low in his seat, and I did the same, and I let him start the conversation. Prying it out of him wouldn’t be too successful, I figured, not with something like this.

We got fifteen minutes out of the city before he started talking. “Fury wanted me to go with him to meet this guy who defeated the Elemental yesterday.”

“Why you? And what’s an Elemental?”

“The water monster, it’s called an Elemental. And he asked me because I’m—I’m,” his voice dropped to an even lower whisper, “I’m Spider-Man.”

I almost didn’t believe him.

I almost burst out laughing at the hilarity of it all. Peter Parker, Spider-Man? Ridiculous.

But, remember, I learned from Toph Beifong. I can tell when people are lying.

And Peter?

Peter wasn’t lying.

Well, shit.

How do I even respond to something like that?

“Okay.” Good one. “Who was the other guy you met with?”

“You—you’re not surprised?”

Oh, young Parker, I was dumbfounded. But I had learned two years earlier how to control my heart rate, so he would never know how freaked out I actually was.

“You saw me stop a dart mid-air, Peter, you being Spider-Man is hardly out of the ordinary.”

He looked relieved, but he still hadn’t answered my question.

“Who was the other guy?”

“Oh. His name is Quentin Beck. He’s—“ another low whisper, “he’s from an alternate universe. He fought the Elementals before, and he and them got sucked into our universe when Tha—Hulk brought everyone back.” He didn’t look me in the eye when he talked about the snaps. I wouldn’t either, but I felt the little blip his heart made at the mention of Thanos’s name, so I didn’t push. Even though Quentin Beck and his story sounded like bullshit.

“Do you have a picture of him?” Peter looked at me skeptically, but hooked up his mask to his phone. A somewhat blurry picture of Quentin Beck popped up, and he sent it to me, but he didn’t seem happy about it. “I just want to know who to look out for. If I start chucking rocks at people, I don’t want to hit the wrong one.” The lie seemed to relax him a little bit. It wasn’t a complete lie, I did want to know who to look out for, but I also wanted to find this guy in our universe. “What’s the plan now?”

“They think another one will pop up in Prague—“

“Peter, we’re driving toward Prague. Shouldn’t we be going away from it?”

“I have to help fight this thing—“

“Let the Beck guy do it!” My voice had risen above a whisper and Peter quickly shushed me. “He’s done it before, he can do it again.”

“They need my help, I can—“

“Peter.” He kept muttering, convincing himself he needed to help, but I wasn’t having it. “You don’t have to save the world, Peter.”

That got him to shut up.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t owe the world a goddamn thing.”

“Help me.” That got me to shut up. “Help me fight the Elemental.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you’re one of the only people who can! The next one that’s coming, they’re pretty sure it’s the fire elemental, and any time it absorbs metal it can get stronger. You can help us beat it by keeping the metal away from it!”

Oh. He didn’t know I could do more than that.

“Peter, I — ”

“Please.” Peter Parker had the best puppy-dog eyes I had ever seen in my life. But I wasn’t convinced.

“I’m here for a school trip, Pete, not to save the world.”

It’s like I sucker punched him. He deflated immediately and looked away, and I got up and moved a few rows ahead.

I wasn’t opposed to helping, but I didn’t want to get near Quentin Beck until I had a full story on him. And that would take a lot of research and caffeine.

“Hey, Eugene.” We had stopped for a bathroom break and he was still using his phone to update his Instagram followers on all of the happenings on our way to Prague.

“Are you here to break my jaw again, Y/L/N?”

I looked at his face and didn’t see any swelling, barely any discoloration. “Nope, you’re healing nicely, I’m impressed. Do you have a hotspot?”

“Why do you think I have a hotspot?”

“Because you’ve been on your phone the entire trip.”

“What will you do for me if I let you on it?”

I rolled my eyes and groaned. Of course he would ask for a favor. “Anything. Within reason.”

“Can I cash in on the favor later?”

Goddamnit. “Sure, whatever.”

He laughed maniacally. “Okay, Flash Hotspot is the user, and spidermanrocks is the password, no spaces, no caps.”

“Really, Eugene, you went with that password?” I almost had to laugh. He would have an aneurysm if he knew who was really Spider-Man.

“What?”

“It’s a bit obvious, don’t you think?”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What were you doing with Parker?”

“Plotting the downfall of the European Union.” I let out a laugh. “We were talking about the water monster, and how there’s a light festival in Prague that’d be cool to go to.”

“Gonna go on a date with Penis Parker?”

“I was actually thinking about asking Brad.” That made Flash laugh, and I smiled myself. “But seriously, stop calling him that.”

“Whatever.”

Peter looked flustered as he got back on the bus, but I didn’t pry. But Brad looked awfully smug as he sat beside MJ. Focus, Y/N, you have to find Quentin Beck. I hunkered down in my seat and slipped my headphones over my ears, then logged onto Flash’s hotspot and got to work.

The number of illegal websites I went on was not something I’m willing to admit out loud, but I couldn’t find anything. Not a single facial-recognition scan showed any results for Quentin Beck, and I tried as many as I could get my hands on. But the more I looked at his face, the more I felt like I’d seen him before. And honestly, it was pissing me off.

I stared at the image on my phone, and I had a gut feeling it had to do with Tony Stark. This Beck guy was somehow connected to Stark. It’s like the answer was on the tip of my tongue. I rubbed my temples in frustration, wishing I could just reach into my memory and pull out the information when it hit me. “Memory, you’re so stupid, Y/N.”

Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, affectionately called B.A.R.F. was presented by Tony Stark at a lecture he did at MIT almost seven years ago. But this guy had released a paper about it six months before—a guy named Quentin Beck. I remembered reading about it for a school project, and the picture of the guy was the same person Peter met.

“There’s no way.”

I looked up the article, and sure enough, I was right. Quentin Beck was the scientist behind the technology, and he was an employee for Stark Industries when the article was published.

Great, now I had to break into Stark Industries and access their archives while on a hotspot provided by Eugene Thompson. Lucky for me, we pulled into the parking lot for our much improved hotel, which meant free wifi. Unlucky for me, Mr. Harrington now felt he needed to start bossing us around, considering he was the teacher. Which meant I had to put my investigations to the side. For now.

“Okay, kids, grab your room keys, same roommates as before. Meet back in the lobby at five o’clock for the light festival!”

MJ and I dragged our cases up to the third floor. We each chose a bed, but she was moody, more than her usual angst. But I didn’t have time to play therapist. “Did we get a wifi password?”

“Uh, yeah.” She passed over the card after logging in herself and sat on her bed, glancing back at me every ten seconds.

I was typing away madly, but her stares were making me uncomfortable. “Why are you staring?”

She looked away quickly. “I’m not staring.”

“You were totally staring.” I kept clicking and typing. “What?”

“What are you looking for? I know you stayed up all last night on your computer.”

To tell or not to tell, that is the question. Not a very hard one, but it’s still the question. This secret isn’t mine to make public, though. “I’m trying to prove someone wrong.”

“Who?”

I hesitated. “Peter.”

“Why do you need to prove him wrong?”

“Because he’s gotten his idyllic little hopes up and I want to squash them like a bug.” I glanced at her and smirked. “I’m kidding. I just don’t think he’s right about something, and I’m proving it.”

She nodded, not entirely convinced. “You’re coming to the light festival, right?”

I looked at her. Really looked at her. She was pulling her long sleeves over her wrists and switching her weight from foot to foot—uncomfortable as hell. I gave her a genuine smile and closed my computer. “Wouldn’t miss it. Wanna help me figure out what to wear?”

Friends come before saving the world any day.

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel comics #reader insert #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #spiderman far from home #mcu #spiderman #avengers

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errzula · 3 years

Text

Second installment of Sokkla first meetings. Azula lives next to an annoying pop fanatic.

Azula has been waking up screaming for the past week. And times like this, she envied Zuko so much.

She wished that she had her brother's support system, that she had someone to turn to when things were breaking apart, a sincere human touch during the divorce, the violence, and the over all depression they all went through. When Azula left their home, she thought that she'll also be leaving the painful memories she had. But she didn't, and it haunts her in her most vulnerable hour.

It's all coming back, in flashes, in little things. Every thing in the world reminded her of what they have become, of how broken and hopeless they were.

All she wanted was a night of rest. A dreamless sleep. A moment of peace that her nonexistent family kept away from her.

"I should have not married you!"

"But you did, and here we are!"

The crashing sound of breaking glass, Zuko's cries, door slam, choked tears rang in her person. It drummed in her ears and she can't block the noise no matter how hard she press her palms on her ears. She can't do anything, but be immersed in the memory she already lived through.

"I'll take Zuko with me!"

"Who cares about that stupid brat?"

"Rather than that monster that you call dau-"

"If you can see I'm the one who understands you-"

Something loud and awful blasted on the beside room beside her.

"-Been here all along so why can't you see, you belong with me"

A pop song was being played by her neighbor. She checked the time. 11:00 pm.

She went to her balcony and called her neighbor's attention.

"Excuse me? I don't know what shit you're doing, but people are trying to sleep here."

A man peeked from the windows. "I am sorry, I am sorry! It was my alarm."

"At this ungodly hour?"

He stumbled to his balcony, knocking over his dried house plants leaving soil and pebbles scattered on the floor. "I have things to do, and I am a really heavy sleeper. It won't happen again. I am sorry."

But it did happen again.

"My ex-man brought his new girlfriend She's like "Oh, my god!" but I'm just gonna shake"

And again.

"I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE WHEN YOU WALK IN!"

Azula could be anything, but patient. In the middle of the night, she marched towards his unit, her mind bursting with threats. After 3 heavy knocks, he opened his door and got a glimpse at his room. What she saw almost made her strangle him on the spot.

2 speakers were directly placed at the wall adjacent to her place. His phone conveniently placed at the top.

"Is this some sick joke? Did you perhaps live in a barbaric-" She was losing the little amount of sleep she could salvage because of her neighbor's stupidity?

"Please, let me explain-"

Azula didn't. She instead gave him her deadliest glare.

"NO. YOU. LISTEN. Do this again, I'll report you to the building manager, and be prepared to be kicked out in an instant."

"That's not-"

She slammed his own door to his face.

Her night terrors weren't only about how things fell apart. Sometimes (and her most hated ones) she was visited by the happy memories of the past.

She would watch how her parents would hold each other as they lovingly gaze at their children playing in the shore. Snippets of her father's smiling face.

It was fucking unfair. Why experience perfection if it would only be taken away from you. Why be given with happy memories when it would only serve as a reminder to what you've lost.

Tap. Tap. Tap

What did Azula do to be deprived of a loving home?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

How would Azula be able to-

TAP. TAP. TAP.

It took her a full minute before she realized that she was pulled out of her nightmare.

Instinctively she looked at the source of the noise. At her glass door, she saw pieces of pebbles pooling at her balcony's floor.

Azula slid the door open and was greeted by a flying pebble to her head.

It was him, again. The shaved head gangster who apparently enjoy fucking with his neighbor's life.

"Pack your bags." Azula was about to make the call that will ultimately ruin this weirdo's life.

"I know you've been having nightmares. Every night." Azula raised a curious brow, but still went on with the phone call.

"And I really can't ignore it. I know it's none of my business. But I get it. My sister had her episodes before. I had my fair share of terrors before." Azula ended that call and stared at him.

"Back then, my sister and I had each other. Until I didn't, and had to wake myself up from those."

She cannot stop herself from scoffing at his sappy speech. "Please, you probably thought I was an easy target. Is pleasing yourself not that satisfying anymore?"

A faint blush on his cheek, he avoided her gaze. "I didn't even know you, until the first night! I- I admit that you're cute, but even if you're a burly dude who can take me down with a snap, I would have done the same thing."

Silence. She noticed him itching towards his door.

"Name."

"Huh?"

"Tell me your name."

"Ah. It's Sokka. Nice to meet you..?"

"Not it's not. Don't do this again, this is my life, my problem."

Sokka released a breath he was unconsciously holding. He went inside his room. He didn't know what he was expecting, but oddly, he felt that things went perfectly.

And it did, because on the other side, Azula was leaning on the glass door, not as hopeless and mad as she was earlier.

"Thank you, Sokka."

Hello! It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything. I missed this fandom so much, I deactivated my first account but I guess, I cannot stay away from these cute babiess.

#atla #sokkla #sokka #azula #fanfiction #sokkla fanfiction

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nodusomnis · 4 years

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title: gacha puller pairing(s): tsukioka tsumugi & reader characters: tsukioka tsumugi, reader, settsu banri, chigasaki itaru, rurikawa yuki, sakisaka muku, nanao taichi synopsis: if Itaru has his own gacha puller, then you have your own as well. word count: 6.1k

"Ugh! No SSR again!" You yell in despair as you throw your hands up in the air while holding your phone in frustration.

You had pulled three times already for the new event that the game currently released, and yet you still haven't gotten the limited SSR of your favorite character that you've been waiting for. You did your best from delimiting yourself to pull for the other events for an entire month, albeit your hands were yearning to tap the pull button to get the new SSRs. It was an immense effort to forbear yourself, to be honest, considering the previous events were a tremendous temptation for you to manage.

Heeding your online friends getting the SSRs within that month made you envious and anxious about the fact you wanted to pull for the new cards as well. However, you impede and incessantly reminded yourself that the new card for your favorite character will be released in no time, so you need to be patient as they said: "Patience is Virtue." Nevertheless, you cling onto that famous phrase for you to prevent yourself from tapping that awfully tempting button.

What a drag.

"Sucks for you." Your head spontaneously whips at Itaru, sitting indolently on the couch across from you with the other lazyass, Banri.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it from you. Your luck is much worse than mine, you know?" You sneer as you roll your eyes before flicking your gaze back on the screen of your phone to see the fodder cards you had obtained.

Just by viewing it, it utterly makes your head throb and puts you in a pit of misery. Banri and Itaru are minding their own businesses as per usual, for they had their own mobile games to play to even give you a scarce of their notice, particularly the salaryman who will never reel when he’s in his gamer mode.

You're the only one who doesn't play the games they are currently obsessing over since you're more into otome. Moreover, their games are beyond for you to grasp. Notably, you're not the type of a gamer akin to Itaru who will forsake sleep just for his one and only games. The way he lives his life is outrageously unhealthy, and you don't want to be sleep-deprived as you have other concerns to do as well in reality. As a university student, you need to prioritize your studies before entertainment as it was, by all means, your responsibility.

Since it was your day off today, you fritter away the responsibilities for now as you already completed the assignments you carry for this week.

Speaking of Itaru’s unhealthy habits, despite all of it, you do admit that you admired his obstinacy and perseverance when it comes to his games.

His devotion from staying in the top rankings and able to balance his work and entertainment had you respect the salaryman without any cynicism since, for you, it takes an amount of effort to segregate your attention to both states. However, the only thing you highly opposed about his commitment is him consuming a lot of money and not eating a decent meal during weekends as he would lock himself in his room for the whole day to play.

You never dared to enter his room since you know full well how he'd turn into a demon when someone disturbed him during his gaming bout.

He'd literally cuss at you, no doubt.

Not to mention, their games are not free to play friendly, which is why you never played the games with the two despite wanting to be part of their so-called co-op. It made you envious every time you will witness them being enthralled with clearing the dungeons and discussing their next quest. You'll lie to yourself if you say that you didn’t feel out of place in their conversations sometimes. Due to that, you did not disrupt the two, for you were aware that it will only hinder the momentum of their enthusiasm.

On the contrary, whenever you watched the two having a friendly game and seeing their triumphant faces when they won against some other teams was indeed a calming sight to observe. You would even notice yourself smiling along to their childish expressions, which was at first; you were bemused as to why, but shortly shrugged it off as you acknowledge that it was refreshing and a splendid view to behold. Though, sometimes, their effrontery they'd manifest will directly upend the sentiments you harbor for them.

"At least I got the new SSR yesterday," Itaru retorts, granting you a smug smirk, which causes your aggravation to develop and puff your cheeks.

"Yeah, right. A big thanks to Sakuya for pulling for you."

Banri sniggers upon hearing your response and leans his back on the couch, resting his arms on the backrest. "(Name)'s right, Itaru-san. You don't have the right to be priggish when you relied on Sakuya in the first place."

"Well, if you're in the level of desperation to get the SSR that you want, then you need to take drastic measures," he suggests to which you and Banri look at him in confusion with a tinge of curiosity.

"And that is?" Banri asks, and you only wait for Itaru to say his answer.

"Call for Sakuya and let him pull in your stead." Itaru exhibits a lopsided grin as he looks at you with a glint of persuasion and mischief behind those fuchsia irises of his. Hearing his outlandish suggestion earned him a groan from you and stomped your feet in distress.

This guy is seriously no-good when giving you advice. His reason only provides you nothing but a headache, and the faint light of hope you’re clinging onto is gradually quenching. You thought it would be something serious and beneficial, though you remember that in front of you is Itaru's switch off mode in which his princely appearance is out today, and his crappy personality will be served instead.

For that reason, you flash him a menacing glare, having the urge to grab his neck and strangle him to death, if only you had the courage to do so. Also, the director might get mad at you for diminishing their limited actors, albeit she’s a kind-hearted woman.

"Hell, no! Sakuya is your gacha puller, and there's no way I'll rely on your lucky charm—though I like him as an individual more than you, not gonna lie, no hard feelings. But seriously, your misfortune might be passed on me, so no thanks."

Banri bursts out a laugh once you say your retort, and even slapping his thighs so hard. While Itaru only stares at you with an incredulous face and instantly shifts to a feigned dejected mien.

"You're still headstrong in spite of being in a dire situation," he says matter-of-factly as he dismissively gestures his hand.

"It's because I have pride in me."

"Then that pride of yours must be discarded right now. It's not needed in this kind of circumstance."

"Ah, you're the only one who has the ability to do that, Itaru-san."

Your reply prompts the side of his lips to curve upwards, presenting you a boyish smirk on his handsome profile. The kind of smirk that will make girls' hearts skip a beat and fall for his charm, submitting themselves like he was a king who needs to be revered and would comply with his orders with no abstinence.

A relief sigh escapes your lips, knowing that you have the immunization to his charismatic façade and his princely appearance. Therefore, you needn't worry about being caught in his trap and wrapped you around his fingers with ease.

"I can't deny that since it's an irrefutable truth."

"You seemed to be proud."

Itaru lowly chuckles. "Of course, there's no room for me to degrade myself right now, won’t I?"

"You're seriously impossible." You sway your head in defeat as you are aware that debating with him is insignificant, so you ignored him completely.

You return your eyesight to your phone and find out that you still have two pulls left for you to get the new SSR. The frustration that temporarily quenched—thanks to Itaru’s sudden disruption—has now enkindled once again. You don't know if you should try to buy crystals if you didn't get it, but if you did buy them, then you’ll have insufficient money to sustain your future necessities, considering you’re a university student.

More importantly, there are tons of projects that will be given by the teachers this month, considering the first semester is about to end. In spite of having a part-time job, it’s inadequate to provide your simple living. It will be impertinent if you’ll rely on the company. There’s no question that Sakyo will scold you for hours and give you a mindful lecture about how to save money and blah blah blah.

That’s the last thing you ever wanted to occur. You don’t want to confront the cheapskate yakuza.

The dreading thoughts that are consuming your mind cause you to bite the inside of your cheeks in frustration. Temptation and the desire are crashing in your entire being like tidal waves, furnishing you a hard time to choose what decision you need to take. Preventing yourself from detaching yourself with desires is not smooth, like how you’d roast Itaru through words. After all, you’re just a humble human being.

Your only option is to rely on your luck, but the gut feeling crawling in the pit of your stomach tells you nothing but anguish from the outcome.

Ugh. This is seriously frustrating the hell out of you! You feel like you wanted to pull your hair out of your head.

You inhale an amount of breath to appease yourself. There’s no time for you to freak out in this urgent matter. You just need to determine what the best course of action is. You lift your chin to glance at the two gamers, having a sweet time communicating to themselves as though they are devoid of any dilemmas.

Their ignorance of your current lamentation and have the tendency to be merry is insulting on your part. Well, they are not the ones to blame for your hopeless situation since it’s your game. Besides, comforting someone due to some minor matter isn’t something to give notice. There are lots of controversies happening to the world that must be given complete attention to instead.

This is just a game. If you’re going to borrow Sakyo’s philosophy, then it wouldn’t be hard for you to decide. But to your dismay, you aren’t Sakyo.

Your mind drifts to Itaru’s suggestion earlier, trying to deliberate whether you should really rely on Sakuya this time. Do you really have to break your pride on the pretext of getting the SSR that you really desire?

No. There must be some other method to be considered. There’s no need for you to tarnish the pride you have confidence in.

Dwelling over the matter for a minute, the chatter of the two falls deaf in your ears like you’re being drowned under the sea. You’re too occupied with contemplating your next options to even give your half attention to the two. Once you had finally searched a good idea in the depths of your brain as if you did your utmost best to squeeze, just for you to find one due to the desperation to free from the shackles of your own hopelessness.

“The once dead fish eyes are now sparkling with hope. I hate that look,” Itaru comments once he took a glimpse at your way, which Banri also confers his attention to you.

“You’re so immature, dude.” Banri sweat drops yet ignores the adult beside him to ask your sudden enlightened face. “Don’t tell me that you finally got the SSR that you wanted?”

“Nope!” You chirp, making the two bewildered at the use of your tone, albeit you haven’t yet completed your mission of acquiring your deepest desire.

“Then why do you look so happy?”

Your smile stretches upon Itaru’s query. “I’ve got a plan of how I’ll get my favorite character.”

The two gamers exchange looks for a brief second before turning to you.

“How?”

A sing-song hum flows through your throat, and subsequently, answers Banri’s question. “I will find my own gacha puller!”

Upon hearing your response, the two were taken aback and rendered them mute, trying to digest the words you spouted in their brain, especially Itaru, who suggested not too long ago about relying on his gacha puller.

“What? So, you’re going to mimic my strategy, too?” The salaryman scoffs, and you roll your eyes at him.

“For your information, you’re not the only person who has a gacha puller. Self-proclaiming won’t get you anywhere.”

“When did I say that?” You ignored his question.

“If I’m going to search for my gacha puller, it has to be like Sakuya. Innocent and not corrupted like someone here.”

“Oi, you’re pertaining to me, aren’t you?”

“I kinda’ know where you’re getting from,” Banri says.

“Are the two of you gonna ignore the lonely salaryman here?” Itaru feigns a crestfallen expression and voice bound with a melancholic tone.

You snap your head at the whining man. “Shut up, Itaru-san. You’re being a nuisance.”

“Ouch.” You continue to ignore him as Banri shows a sympathetic look before returning his gaze on you, whose two fingers pressed against your chin, thinking who will be the perfect candidate for your gacha puller.

“Well, if we’re talking about innocent people here, then it’s either Muku or Taichi,” Banri suggests, stopping you from your tracks and peer at him.

“I agree with Muku, but I’m having doubts for Taichi,” you say with uncertainty to which Banri creases his eyebrows.

“Why’d you have doubts about our member, huh? He’s actually innocent rather than Hyodo,” he spats Juza’s name with virulence while brandishing a sour look on his visage.

“Why are you involving Juza in our conversation? You seemed attached to him, don’t you?”

Itaru snickers at your counter, and Banri, in a flash, shoot him a scowl before facing you. “Huh?! Who you’re talking to?”

“Whatever. You’re still in the denial stage, so let’s throw this off-topic aside. ”Your voice is as cold as the snow, face woven with indifference as you’re not here to discuss Banri's rants about his teammate. Seeing them bickering on a daily basis had you tired from always hearing the two autumn troupe members. That is enough. You don’t want to add it further.

“I’m still talking!”

“Anyway, Muku can be one of my gacha pullers, but it feels there’s someone who we’re still forgetting. Do you know who they might be?” You question the two. Banri’s irritated face has yet to fade, bestowing you a huff before rolling his eyes.

What an attitude man.

“She totally ignored you,” Itaru taunts, causing the young gamer to release a scoff.

“Shut up, itaru-san,” Banri grumbles. “I don’t know who you’re talkin’ about. Why don’t ya use your pretty little head to find it out?”

“I suggest that you should find someone devoid of desires. But I’m afraid it’ll be hard for you to search for one since humans are inundated with unlimited desires. Ah, I’m fortunate to have met Sakuya. It must be fate.” Itaru’s grinning from ear-to-ear, looking at you tauntingly as if looking down at you for being an unfortunate soul.

You repress yourself from lurching at the man just to wipe that shit-eating grin of his. It’s pissing you off. His face is infuriating.

“I’ll slap you if you’re going to rile me up. And I’m not kidding,” you threaten with venom in your speech. Itaru can even witness how your face darkens as though he’s in a thriller game about to get killed by you. It was enough for the gamer to hold his hands up, and motions his hand as though he’s waving a white flag at you, an indication of surrender.

“Please, spare me.”

“Should I go for Muku?” Is your immediate question, leaving the two lazyasses to shrug their shoulders in sync.

“Go ahead. It’s not our game after all—urk!” Banri’s sentence was cut off when you suddenly charged at him and grabbed his collar, pulling his face closer to yours.

“Hey, I’m asking for a genuine reply here, you bastard. Don’t give me a half-assed answer if you don’t want me to shove a pipe in your asshole.” Banri feels the sweat on his forehead begins to form and breathe hitches upon the proximity of your faces. His ocean blue eyes stare into yours, looking at him so precariously as though you won’t have second thoughts of granting him an abominable experience. Additionally, the way how baritone your voice was, so low and threatening that didn’t miss to send shivers down his spine.

He isn’t informed that you can be this terrifying and manifest this kind of appearance.

Even Itaru was speechless to say anything at this moment. He only watches his player two getting dominated by you, hovering the poor high schooler while your faces were only inches apart. Banri hasn’t responded anything yet and remained still in his spot. Itaru chooses not to step in between you two since it will be a red flag for him if he does. He has no qualms that he’s gonna receive your lethal glower, and Banri’s position might be switched to him.

So nope. He’s just going to send F to Banri on LIME later.

“I’m home.”

Your treacherous character dissolves in a heartbeat once the familiar gentle, and silken voice of the winter troupe’s leader meddled in your ears. Without wasting a second, you hop off of Banri to face Tsumugi with a sweet smile and amiable appearance as though nothing vexatious had happened.

“Welcome home, Tsumugi-san!” You greet him with life and skips to the man to welcome him.

“It’s amazing how her behavior alters in just a spur second,” Itaru comments, only for Banri to hear.

“I can even see flowers surrounding her face when confronting Tsumugi-san.” The poor boy, who just recently received your murderous intent, was in disbelief to see your cheery face at the winter troupe’s leader. There’s no trace of deadly appearance on you like how you gave him only a little while ago. It seems that all of it was a mere illusion once you confront Tsumugi.

“Oh? Why are the three of you gathered here? It’s rare to see you in the lounge around this hour,” he says as soon as he enters.

“We’re talking about some game-related stuff. So, how’s tutoring your tutee, Tsumugi-san?” you ask him with your full attention. And the said guy gives you his immediate answer.

“He has issues with memorizing, but I know he’s going to be fine once we continued practicing his memorization skills. It will take time for him, but it's better if we worked on it now rather than sooner. He’s a great student, I dare say.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how he really gives his full effort on tutoring his student, added by how supportive he was. It’s already apparent at the way he’s helping the high schoolers in this company during his spare time. And even he returned home after tutoring one of his tutees, if there’s someone who is in need of his assistance, he won’t have second thoughts to help them out.

You certainly admire and respect this man in front of you. He’s an actual angel.

“You’re really nice, Tsumugi-san. I can’t help but admire you even more,” you say straightforwardly, which causes the apple of his cheeks to sprinkle with red hues.

“E-Eh, is that so? T-Thank you, I guess?” You chuckle at the way he stumbled on his words. It’s so typical of Tsumugi to do that. He’s not used to receiving such compliments, albeit he definitely deserves it.

Tsumugi regains his composure and begins to ask you. “Anyway, what about the game you’re talking about? I know I’m not good with games, but I can lend you an ear if you have any troubles.”

You feel your heart warm after he says those words. Words that are enough for the misery you felt to evaporate and give you the slightest hope in your darkest day. His concern toward you surely touched you. Not like those two lazyasses still sitting on the couch, can’t even have a mere sympathy for you. Sigh.

“Now that you mentioned it,” you trail off, recollecting the circumstance you’re in, a good idea suddenly emerges in your brain as you look at the tutor. If it’s Tsumugi, it’s worth the risk. Also, you won’t know until you try. “Can you pull in my stead, Tsumugi-san?”

Your query generates him to be baffled, tilting his head to the side as he casts his eyes upon the phone you are lending. He doesn’t know what you’re talking about but takes the gadget from your hand regardless.

The winter troupe leader peeks at your phone’s screen, only to find out different guy characters showing on the screen. He has no idea what kind of game you’re playing, but he is certain that this type of genre is exclusive for girls.

“Which button should I tap?” You peek at your phone.

“The one that said roll ten times.”

When Tsumugi heard you as clear as day, he leads his pointer to the button you wanted him to press. He takes a glimpse at your face, eyes filled with anticipation and plead, eyebrows knit together while your lips tremble lest for the upshot of his aid. His apprehension solely expands as he hasn’t had the slightest inkling of what is happening for you to present such expression.

Further, he hasn’t yet to inquire about the whole matter. However, relying on him for your game had his stomach twist unpleasantly. Beads of sweat start to dribble down his nape, knowing full well that it’s something important to you. Hence, entrusting him with it seems that he is carrying a huge responsibility on his shoulders, similar to his troupe’s debut show. And for some reason, it appears that your anxiety has transported to him as well.

Tsumugi was too immersed in his thoughts to even lay his attention on the phone he’s holding. His gaze fixated on yours had yet to avert for just a little second. As he stares at you, the expression you showed a second ago has altered to a shock one and immediately tilts your head upwards to face him with eyes gleaming with rapture.

“T-Tsumugi-san…” you mutter, voice tied with disbelief.

Your reaction confuses him. That’s why he attempts to glance at your phone. But before he can even land his sight on it, you abruptly release a squeal while leaping in joy. And this causes the two men sitting on the couch to flinch once they hear your energetic voice.

He doesn’t know what happened, but he deemed that he did a good job. Your phone is still in his hand, literally forgotten to hand it to you back as his awareness is concentrated on yours, cheering like a little kid who just received a gift from her parents. With you being like that, he’s inclined not to interrupt your happiness and let you celebrate as long as you want.

Tsumugi couldn’t refrain himself from smiling at the sight since your mood is indeed entertaining and contagious for him not to.

“Well, we already know what the conclusion is,” Banri suddenly speaks while taking a side glance at Itaru.

“If I only knew that Tsumugi has this luck with gachas, then retreating to have him pull for me before was absolutely a bad decision of mine.” Itaru huffs, slumping his back against the backrest, feeling dejected upon recalling the day he mentioned. He sure does regret it, not gonna lie.

“You did? Condolence for you, man,” Banri nonchalantly responds.

“I can’t feel any sympathy from you.”

After many seconds of celebrating, you swiftly spin your body to confront Tsumugi with a wide grin. “Tsumugi-san, thank you so much!”

Due to the overwhelming emotions swelling you to the brim, you throw your arms around him, embracing the man with delight without any warnings. Your abrupt action had the leader to be caught off guard, and a faint blush instantly crept up to his cheeks. His muscles all over his body freeze, seemingly like steel that couldn’t be bent due to how stiff he is right this instant.

This kind of skinship makes him uncomfortable and embarrassed as he had never done it outside of his family, especially to the opposite gender since he knew full well how it’d cross the boundary between the parties involved. It’s not like he doesn’t like to be hugged by you. It’s just; it was so sudden that his coherence had flown away from him.

Tsumugi’s heart races alike when he’s having a morning jog with Tasuku. He couldn’t move a single inch as he’s yet stunned at the current situation. Fortunately, he didn’t loosen his grasp on your phone despite his astonishment.

Tsumugi only has the chance to relax when you retract your body from him, but your hands are still holding his arms.

“You really made my day! I was about to lose hope because I already spent two-thousand crystals, and yet I still haven’t acquired my favorite character,” you gloomily say as you gaze down to show how afflicted you are for your misfortune. But eventually rearranges to a merry mien after looking back at him. “But because of you, my hope has recovered once again! You are the light in my darkest time, Tsumugi-san! I really owe you!”

Tsumugi’s heart has yet to recover from beating vigorously, and here you are only supplementing it more. Your choice of words sure does make him flustered as though his face is gonna explode at any given moment.

“Y-You’re exaggerating. I’m not similar to what you think of me… Also, I’m just lucky enough to get your favorite character,” he bashfully says while avoiding his gaze.

“Even if you say that my opinion of you will never change. Just so you know, your presence around always makes me calm and wash away my troubles in the meantime. Well, I don’t know why I feel that way, but one thing’s for sure, it’s because of your gentle trait and artlessness that makes my chaotic mind to pacify from creating a storm. It really helped me a lot during the time of my crisis due to school work and job. Your aura is a good influence here in the dorm, especially everything’s a mess here. So why don’t you take the credit for yourself this time? You need it sometimes, and you really deserve it.”

You flash him a toothy grin, a perfect time where he peers at you again. Beholding your bright smile that is free from any malice, like the sun rays illuminating the dark places, he couldn’t have the chance to give you a response as it’s keeping him arrested from uttering a word. On top of it all, your disclosure of the way you see him has rendered him speechless, and his ears are starting to burn up.

“Anyway, you have my sincerest and deepest gratitude. I owe you this time. Can I take my phone back?” you ask, which returns him to his senses.

“Oh, right. Here you go.”

Taking your phone, you take a glimpse at the cards that he pulled for you. Seeing the SSR you’ve been desperate to get already came home. You couldn’t restrict yourself from grinning broadly, and the wave of ecstasy crawls to your system.

Relying on Tsumugi was the best decision you ever made!

“Hey, you lazyasses! I finally got the SSR that I want!” You enthuse.

Banri was the first one to comment. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks to Tsumugi-san.”

“Good for you. Not only did you acquire the SSR, but you also found your own gacha puller.”

Upon hearing Itaru’s statement, an idea instantly pops in your mind, which causes you to whip your head at Tsumugi, who’s looking at you with a questioning gaze.

“Hey, Tsumugi-san,” you drawl his name, almost cooing. “Can you give me the honor of being my gacha puller?”

Hearing your question and the way you look at him with puppy eyes prompts him to blink his eyes in confusion, specifically to the word he hasn’t yet encountered.

Is that a slang word for games? Also, why are you looking at him like that?

“Why does it seem like (Name)’s proposing to him?” Banri utters while watching you with a weird look.

Itaru evokes a scoff. “Maybe she is.”

“You kiddin' me, right?” Itaru only shrugs his shoulders as his response to the autumn leader before returning his attention to you and Tsumugi.

The tutor doesn’t know what could be his answer to your offer just now. You’re still staring at him with hopeful eyes, seemingly glimmering under the lights of the lounge. Tsumugi feels a sweat dribbling down his temples as he’s getting self-conscious by the seconds you keep on staring at him with gravity.

Before he speaks, he gulps first to hydrate his almost dry throat to prevent him from stuttering.

“W-What do you mean by gacha puller?”

Well, so much for not stuttering. He sighs mentally.

“Oh, just like what you did earlier. You’re only going to pull for me to get the SSRs that I want. I don’t have luck like yours, but Itaru-san’s luck is much worse than I am, though.”

Itaru reflexively reacts upon the mention of his name. “Oi, why did I suddenly get involved in this? I’m not doing anything to you. That’s BM.”

Tsumugi sweat drops at Itaru’s retort and sheepishly laughs, knowing the two of you are glaring at each other that he can even see an invisible line of electricity through your gazes. In order for both of you to stop, he decides to meddle to change the atmosphere that is starting to surround the lounge, and before the situation gets worse.

“If that’s the only terms and conditions, then I wouldn’t mind.” In a spur second, you snap your head at him, and the antagonistic face you display for the gamer vanishes in a jiffy when you confront him.

“Really?!” You exclaim with a broad smile.

Tsumugi nods, smiling as well. “Yeah, I don’t mind. If it will make you happy, then I’ll offer you my assistance.”

The leader stumbles when you suddenly leaped in joy and hugged him with enthusiasm. This causes his face to flare again as he didn’t expect that he’ll be embraced by you two times in a row. But what makes his face to sharpen its red color is when the three words that slipped from your lips.

“I love you, Tsumugi-san! You’re the best!”

It seems that the cogs of his brain have stopped as though something had blocked its operation. His eyes grow wide like saucers as he hadn’t foreseen of you to blurt out such a thing. Tsumugi strives to second-guess. Perhaps, the meaning of your words is just a simple expression to imply how happy and grateful you are for him to accept your request. However, in the deepest corner of his brain tells him otherwise, and that alone only adds the saturation of his red face.

The two gamers who witnessed the scene solely stare at you both with shock evident in their profiles. They couldn’t follow if it’s just the same as to how Tsumugi sees it, or you accidentally confessed to him because of your overwhelming emotions that you couldn't contain. But they couldn’t even recall a time where there’s a sign of you liking the winter troupe leader. There is a high possibility that you’re hiding your feelings that you slipped it out, out of the blue. If it does, then you sure are damn good.

The lounge is crackling with awkwardness, and it didn’t go unnoticed by you of how the silence erupts inside. When you assimilate the situation and the words you had blurted just now, it was enough for you to release yourself from Tsumugi with so much haste that you even toppled on your feet.

You lift your chin up to face the leader, whose face is in a bright shade of red and had never seen him looking at you with such big eyes as though accusing you with something in which he is confident that you are the culprit.

Oh gosh, you said something you shouldn’t have. You can be an idiot sometimes.

Now, you don’t know how you’ll get away from this awkward tension. Your face is heating up as the seconds' tick, and the stares of the three seem like melting you slowly. The embarrassment you had induced to yourself makes you want to dig a hole and put your head inside like an ostrich, rejecting to face reality. Noticing Tsumugi’s flustered visage didn’t help you to soothe yourself even for just a brief moment. Instead, it gives you more a reason to faint at this current moment.

“I-I…” you stammer, trying to find an excuse to defend yourself. However, your brain isn’t cooperating with you in this predicament, for it’s in turmoil to even go back to its coherence. Your head is becoming fuzzy, thanks to the shame that’s eating you alive. Most importantly, it appears to be your body has been frozen, obstructing you from running away just as you want to.

“We’re home!” The new voice that emerges from the front door snaps you all back to your senses and turn your heads where the others are.

The shuffling sounds and footsteps are heading to your way. You assure that the voice you recently heard is Taichi’s, and you heard Muku and Yuki’s voice as well. Once the trio enters the lounge, they instantly greet you all.

“We’re back,” Yuki says nonchalantly, facing the two gamers before shifting to you and Tsumugi.

“What are you all gathered here for?” Taichi’s inquiry causes Itaru and Banri to cast their eyes upon you, and that action had Muku to be baffled and look at you as well.

Both of your faces are red, and it’s not that difficult for the three to notice the awkward atmosphere between you and the winter troupe leader.

“Eh, why are your faces red?” Taichi suddenly asks to which you flinch in your spot and frantically shakes your head.

“I-It is? It’s because the w-weather is hot for me to handle, so that’s why,” you awkwardly laugh while scratching the back of your head. “Oh, it’s already six. I need to go back to my room to do my homework! Well, see you all around! And by the way, welcome home, you three!” After you bid your goodbye, you dash away from the lounge, like a speed of light.

The students who just arrived simply display a confounded expression, and discerns the way you’re being frantic as though you’re in a hurry.

“So, why’s the acting nerd blushing?” Yuki blurts, intensely scrutinizing the said man.

Hearing Yuki’s question earns his attention and shakes his head violently, similar to what you did earlier. “E-Eh? I-It’s nothing serious…”

His answer hadn’t convinced the designer, but instead, it only ignites his suspicions toward the flustered tutor.

“Oi, elite swindler, and neo gangster, did something happen while we were away?”

“Perhaps, it’s time for me to tend the flowers. I-I’ll see you all later…” Tsumugi says with a trace of timidity in his voice, eluding the question that may pass onto him soon. And afterward, he struts away from the place before going to the courtyard to look at the flowerbeds.

The ones who are left in the lounge just watch him until his figure disappears in their sight.

“So, what happened?” Yuki interrogates. The two gamers sitting on the couch steal glances at each other before Banri shrugs his shoulders.

“Well, it’s not our place to tell you that.”

“Eh?! What, why?! Is it some scoop the reason why you aren’t sharing it with us?!” Taichi exclaimed, causing the pink-haired boy to blush upon imagining something intimate.

“W-What if they accidentally kissed, that’s why they are blushing like that?! It’s like a scene from a shoujo manga. T-Then, after that incident, it will make the two slowly fall in love with each other!”

“N-No way!”

“Calm down, you two,” Yuki elicits a sigh as the two starts to become engrossed in their own world.

Banri and Itaru laugh at Muku’s presumption. In spite of acquiring your own gacha puller, there’s still a consequence for you to get what you desire. And that is embarrassing yourself in front of the known angel of the winter troupe.

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nerdzzone · 3 years

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Two Burning Hearts: Chapter Five

Summary: After meeting during a time when the world was in total lockdown, Brooke Harris and Henry Cavill are facing the next challenge to their relationship: transitioning back to normal life. Will they be able to cope with the changes they’re facing or will they fall apart once they leave the idyllic peace of isolation that they had in Jersey?

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

______________

August. 8. 2020

For the most part, our quarantine was going amazingly well. There was some concern going into it that since we hadn't been together for very long, two weeks of uninterrupted quality time together would be way too much too soon, but for the most part it seemed to be the opposite. It was almost like a little honeymoon for us. We settled into our own little rhythm and I was quite enjoying the domesticity.

We had small disagreements here and there, but we hadn't argued anywhere near as much as I had imagined that we would. But that all seemed to change just four days before the end of our quarantine, on the Saturday before Henry went back to work.

Henry had been up late playing a video game online with his brother in Canada and while I went to bed at a reasonable time, he woke me up when he finally crawled into bed at almost three in the morning. After that, I couldn't fall asleep again so I kept us both up for about an hour and a half as I tossed and turned until I finally gave up and got out of bed. Henry probably fell asleep quite quickly once my movements stopped disturbing him, but he didn't sleep for long either as he stumbled downstairs looking bleary eyed around eight o'clock.

Both of us were tired and quiet and even though nothing had happened there was a slight tension in the air as we both went about our mornings, feeling grumpy from the sleep deprivation. I knew that I was feeling irritable so I did my best to try and soothe myself and stop feeling so wound up, but I just couldn’t shake it and it all boiled over as I was trying to clean up after lunch.

I opened the dishwasher and, despite it being just as much my responsibility as it was Henry's, I was irritated from the start to see that it was full and clean, but hadn't been emptied. I put my plate on the counter and, rather crossly, started taking things out, but as soon as I went for the cutlery, I was stabbed by a rather sharp knife that had been put in with the handle towards the bottom and the dangerous part towards the top.

"Fuck!" I cursed, pulling my hand back and inspecting it for damage, feeling my annoyance emboldened by the pain I was feeling. "Henry, I've told you about this so many times!"

The flash of sympathy on his face at my initial yelp of pain quickly shifted into irritation.

"Told me about what?"

"Putting the cutlery in the dishwasher the wrong way!" I explained. "You left a knife sticking right up and now I've cut myself!"

I grabbed a paper towel to cover the cut and stop the blood from getting anywhere. It wasn't a deep wound, but I didn't want to make a mess and I felt it had more of a guilt-inducing dramatic effect.

"You don't need to speak to me like that," Henry scolded, picking up his own dirty lunch dishes before coming around the island counter to where I was standing. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt, did I?"

"Maybe not, but you clearly didn't care that much about preventing it since I've asked you almost every day to be careful how you load the dishwasher."

Henry shrugged as he put his plates next to mine on the counter.

"I just didn't think it mattered that much..."

"Well, it didn't. Until I got stabbed."

My tone was harsh and bratty, but it came out before I could stop it and I was so cranky that I really didn't care. I was clearly testing Henry's patience though as he sighed, a scowl on his face.

"I would hardly say that you’ve been stabbed," He argued. "I'm sorry that you’re hurt, but maybe it has less to do with how I load the dishwasher and more to do with your own carelessness."

Now it was my turn to scowl as I shot him a dirty look and wordlessly turned my attention back to the task I was doing. I fully intended to silently sulk as I worked, but as I pulled out a dish that was still filthy because of how it had been shoved in behind another plate, I lost my temper again.

"See, Henry, this is ridiculous!" I complained. "You just throw everything in however you want and nothing actually gets clean. You have to leave space between the plates or they stick together and the water can't get through."

"I didn't do it on purpose," Henry protested as I roughly put the dirty plate in the sink and went back to unloading. "No one will die if we have to wash one dish again, I don't know why you're being so horrible about this."

"I'm not being horrible! I'm frustrated that I've told you about this a thousand times and you won't listen," I insisted. "But maybe my patience for your irritating habits would be higher today if you hadn't woken me up so bloody early this morning!"

"Oh, so that's what this is about," Henry groaned. "You're mad that I was up so late playing video games with my brother."

I stopped my unloading again and spun to face him.

"That is not what I said," I told him firmly. "I don't care that you were up late and I certainly don't care that it was because you were playing video games with your brother. I don't even care that you woke me up, but since you did and I only had about four hours sleep because of it, that might explain my lack of patience with you now!"

"You definitely cared," Henry insisted with a roll of his eyes. "You huffed and tossed yourself around for ages before you finally stormed off."

"I was tossing and turning just because I couldn't sleep," I argued. "And I didn't storm off, I got out of bed because I knew I was disturbing you and I was trying to be nice."

"You stormed off," Henry repeated bluntly. "Which is why I felt the need to get up so early despite not managing to fall asleep myself until a very unreasonable time."

"I didn't storm off," I insisted. "And I didn't ask you to get up before you were ready to. If you're so tired because of me then maybe you should take a nap since you're acting like a child."

Henry barked out a laugh despite the irritation written all over his face.

"I'm acting like a child? You just accused me of stabbing you because I loaded the dishwasher wrong!"

"I said that I got stabbed, not that you physically stabbed me," I clarified. "You're deliberately misunderstanding everything I say."

"It's not hard to misunderstand when the things you're saying are so ridiculous," Henry rolled his eyes. "Maybe you're the one who needs a nap since you're in such a foul mood."

"I'm not in a foul-" I felt a flash of anger as I snapped at him, but stopped myself as I realized this argument wasn't getting anywhere. "Okay, whatever. I will go take a nap."

My plan was to just step back from the situation and get some space from Henry until we could both calm down, but clearly we weren't on the same page.

"Okay," Henry shrugged. "I'll join you."

I glared at him for a moment before I spoke again.

"I'll nap on the couch then."

"Seriously?" He asked, but when I held my glare, he sighed. "I'll take the couch then if you're going to be like that."

"No, Henry, you're three times the size of me," I pointed out. "You won't be comfortable on the couch."

"Then we can share the bed."

"No," I insisted. "I'll take the couch."

Henry rolled his eyes and turned to walk out of the room. My shoulders fell with relief as I assumed that he was letting the argument drop, but as I followed him out of the kitchen I saw him grabbing himself a blanket as he headed towards the couch.

"Henry, seriously. You are not napping on that couch."

"I disturbed your sleep last night," Henry reminded me. "I'm not going to ruin your nap as well."

"Well, apparently I disturbed your sleep too so maybe I don't want to ruin your nap now either."

He ignored me as he lifted the blanket in the air and went to drape it over the couch, but in my frustration, I grabbed the end of it before it could fall. I tugged it roughly and Henry's surprise was written all over his face when it slipped from his grasp.

"Just go upstairs if you want to nap," I demanded, tucking the blanket under my arm.

Henry was feeling just as feisty as I was though and he shook his head as he reached out and grabbed the corner that was hanging down. He tugged on it just like I had, but I was prepared and managed to hold on before it could slide away completely.

"Why are you being so difficult?" Henry growled through clenched teeth. "Let go of the blanket."

"No," I snapped back. "You let go."

We stood there like children, jerking the blanket back and forth, but realistically, I was no match for Henry. After a few minutes of pulling and bickering, he lost his patience and pulled on the blanket with much more strength than he’d been using so far. My grip on the blanket was tight though so instead of it flying out of my hands like he had intended, my entire body went with it as I crashed against him with a yelp.

"Shit," Henry mumbled as he caught me in his arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"I know, it's okay," I assured him as I found my footing again.

All of a sudden, as I looked up at him, with the blanket dropped around our feet, the ridiculousness of the entire situation hit me and a giggle slipped from my lips. I quickly covered my mouth, not wanting to irritate Henry even more by laughing if he was still angry, but I noticed his lips twitch into a smile as well. Moments later our laughter bubbled over as I rested my head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around me.

"That was the silliest argument we've ever had," I giggled as we fought to get ourselves under control. "I'm sorry I was being so harsh on you."

"I'm sorry that I was as well," Henry chuckled. "And I'm sorry that I never take the time to load the dishwasher carefully. Is your hand okay?"

I looked down at the wound that started this whole mess to see that there was barely even a scratch to show for it.

"It's fine," I admitted. "It hardly even hurt, it surprised me more than anything. I shouldn't have made such a big deal about it."

"And I shouldn't leave knives sticking up in a way that could hurt someone."

I giggled again, picturing how insane we must have looked trying to pull a blanket out of each other's hands and shook my head at the image.

"I think I really do need a nap," I confessed. "Even though, I really didn't 'storm off' this morning when I got out of bed, I was just trying to be respectful because I knew I was disturbing you."

"I know," Henry groaned. "I don't know why I said that."

"And I don't know why I made it sound like you'd stabbed me. God, if anyone heard that they'd think we were insane."

"I think plenty of people have had arguments just like that over these last few months," Henry pointed out with a chuckle. "With everything going on in the world, being in such close quarters with someone for an extended period of time makes even the little things feel big sometimes."

"Well, it all feels ridiculous now."

"It does," He agreed with a smile. "But how about we have that nap, together in our comfortable bed, and forget this ever happened?"

"That sounds like a very good idea."

I smiled and stretched up to place a kiss on his lips before taking his hand in mine and leading him up the stairs to our bedroom.

Tag List: @heartfelt-pen @stephartrave @herefortherealdeal @imaginecrushes @justaboringadult @ speakerforthedead0 @summersong69 @bichibibi @healojane

Let me know if you’d like to be added!

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #two burning hearts

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geniusgub · 3 years

Text

north//chapter thirteen

genre: angst

pairing: season twelve spencer reid x female oc

warnings: prison arc, blood, implications of being drugged, self harm under implications of being drugged, physical violence, mentions of abuse (lmk if i missed anyting)

word count: 8.2k

summary: spencer’s post-mexico hardships continue on, and get much worse, while amelia has a concerning experience in her own apartment

i hope u all like this chapter! enjoy!! like, comment, and reblog!! reblogging helps so much❤️

SPENCER

The feeling of abandonment is one that I'm far too familiar with. I hadn't expected to be completely abandoned by the FBI and to not have their support in this battle. I know that I have the support of my team and of Amelia, but when the FBI says that they won't support me and help me stay out of jail or prison, it's disheartening. It’s crushing. It leaves me feeling cold as I sit against a cinderblock wall.

Sitting in jail is boring. It is, by far, the most boring thing I've ever done in my life. I sit and stare at the wall all day while I regret my decisions and listen to the detainees around me scream and shout. The team individually comes by the visit but it's only for a short amount of time because they're working so hard. They're working on my case at the same time they're working on other cases that they would normally take and I know that they can't come to entertain me. I fully understand why, but I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I could be home.

But Amelia never comes. I told her not to come. She doesn't need to see me like this. She has seen enough. I'm a completely broken mess, rotting away in a jail cell and I don't need her crying over me or providing more content for her nightmares. I asked Emily to relay this message to her and I was told she cried and didn't speak to anyone for a few hours. She's been staying in a BAU interview room and will only go home for a few hours every few days, and I don't blame her. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn't want to go home. But it breaks my heart to know how much Amelia is hurting without me and that I can't help her. I choose to pretend like she doesn’t exist so I won’t think about her. I pretend like I’m living the way I was before I met her. Alone, work-obsessed, with nobody but myself to confide in. It’s easy to forget her during the day when there’s a stream of sunlight flooding in from the tiny window to my right. But then I lay down at night and reach for her waist, or wait to feel her hand on my cheek, or crane my neck to kiss her, I crash back down to earth and remember that I can’t be with the woman I love because of my idiotic decisions.

Emily manages to get me in touch with an old friend hers who is willing to be my lawyer, a wonderful woman named Fiona. She's blunt and she knows what she's talking about and I appreciate that. And now that I have representation, we can move onto the trial and maybe I can go home. I try to absorb some of Amelia’s optimism and stay hopeful that I’ll be released on bail, but my own nasty pessimism rears its ugly head and pulverizes any sign of hope.

Fiona wants me to plead guilty to a crime I didn't commit. I'll only get two to five years as opposed to twenty-five to life, but how could I plead guilty? My memories may be blurry for the first time ever but I know I would never kill that woman. That medicine she was providing me with helping my mom. Why would I kill her? There was another person in that motel room and if my brain would just cooperate and just confirm that it was Scratch, this could all be over.

If I plead guilty then Fiona says I can be released on bail pending trial. Rossi said he would be willing to post my bail, no matter the cost. I'm grateful for him and his generosity but as I spend my time sitting and staring at the wall and the ceiling and the concrete and the mold, the more I don't want to plead guilty. I want to fight this. I have complete faith in my team and their abilities to find Scratch. We found him once and we'll find him again.

"I'm gonna fight it."

That's what I tell Fiona. Being the supportive lawyer she is, she nods and goes on her way, but she comes back far too soon. She doesn't return with a suit for my trial or a date for my trial or handcuffs so I can be transported to my trial. She comes back with Emily.

"Spencer," Fiona sighs, "the Mexican authorities found the murder weapon in the desert. The theory is that you threw it out the window in the car chase. The previous offer you didn't want is off the table. The new offer is to plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter and get five to ten years."

"Gosh," Emily breathes, hanging her head. "There's nothing you can do?"

"Your DNA is on it and the blade matches the blade that cut your hand," Fiona explains. "Spencer, if you don't take this offer, there will be no more offers. And if you lose your trial, you're going to prison. I need to know what you're going to do."

"I'm-"

"Spencer," Emily cuts me off. "Can we talk privately?"

Fiona nods and collects her things, leaving the room and Emily takes her spot. As soon as the door is closed, I shake my head at Emily. "I can't plead guilty to something I didn't do."

"You could do life in prison," she whispers, and I can see her eyes start to tear up. I ignore them.

"You guys will find Scratch. I know you will." I nod stubbornly, falsely confident.

"Yes, we will. We will never stop looking for him. But what if we can do that this month? Or this year? Or this-" she shutters, "decade? Because we sure as hell can't do it before your trial."

I look down at my hands, observing the bandages over my hand. It stings and burns constantly and I wish it would go away. "How's Amelia? Is she still staying at the BAU?"

"Mostly," Emily responds. "Her friend- Jenna, I think- has come by a bunch to take her home and back. She's stayed at Jenna's a few times but she stays mostly in the interview rooms and in Garcia's room. She's, um, well, she's mad at you, Reid."

I scoff out a laugh, rolling my eyes. "Because I won't let her come here?"

"Exactly," there's no humor in her voice. "She just wants to see you. She wants to see that you're okay and it might help you feel better to see her and talk to her a bit. You can talk out decisions like this with her. She's your girlfriend and you were planning on moving in with her and JJ told us you were supposed to go buy an engagement ring for her. She deserves to be involved in this and not at the BAU, suffering and crying and having panic attacks-"

"She's having panic attacks?" My eyes widen, my back straightening up as the red flags start popping up in my head. Is she okay? Have her attacks been so bad that they have warranted a hospital trip? How is her breathing? Has she gone nonverbal? "Wha- is she-"

"Yeah, she’s had some. She obviously had that one with JJ and Garcia and she had one on Monday and she couldn’t speak for an hour.”

"She usually goes nonverbal," I murmur, bringing my hands to my face and trying to avoid biting my nails out of nervousness. "Okay, okay, don't ever touch her until she can speak again. Keep a really calm and low voice and don't freak out because that makes it worse. Get her head between her knees and keep her sitting and get her water and-"

"Spencer, I know how to help a panic attack. We need to be talking about your trial," Emily protests.

"And after her attacks, she usually needs physical attention and she needs comfort and sometimes-"

"You're gonna go to prison, Reid!" Emily shouts, effectively shutting me up. "It's scary to accept but we have to talk about it! You could go to prison for a very long time if you don't accept this deal! Stop talking about your girlfriend’s panic attacks and talk about the situation at hand."

My face hardens and I drop my hands again, sighing. "I can't plead guilty. I just can't."

It's the answer she should have expected, and I'm sure she knew it was coming. Before I even finished, she was out of her seat and banging on the door for a guard to take her away. And yet again I'm left to myself and my thoughts, playing the blurry images over and over again, trying to make out faces and events and names. But there's nothing and I'm left to wonder if I'm going to die in a prison cell.

///

AMELIA

///

My dress has bunched up around my thighs but I can't find it in me to pull it down, even in a courthouse. My legs are full of goosebumps from the air conditioning and my denim jacket isn't doing much to help. I stare down at my lap, my hands resting there with Spencer's medallion between my fingers. The empty space on my hand between my pointer finger and thumb looks too empty and it makes my heart beat faster. I look from the medallion to my hand and back, and I suddenly want to rush out of this goddamn courthouse.

"Amelia," I hear Penelope's voice coming closer, and when I look up, the whole team is approaching.

"Hi," I smile weakly, standing and finally adjusting the hem of my dress. "You guys made it. How was the case?"

"Did they call Reid's case yet?" Luke asks, ignoring my formality question about the case.

"No, but they're about to," I shake my head, gesturing to an open door a few feet away.

They all start walking that way, but I don't follow. I make the decision to choose the horrible wooden bench over the even worse pew-like benches in the court. I had been so upset about not seeing Spencer, but maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Now that I'm faced with the idea of seeing him, I don't want to. I don't want to see him in handcuffs again, or sleep-deprived, or being told off by a judge or prosecutor. I know the BAU has virtually no evidence to support Spencer and that the judge isn't going to rule in his favor. I know that, the pessimist in me knows that. I don't need to see that.

"Amelia?" Dave is standing in front of me and I know it's him from his expensive looking shoes. "You're not coming in?"

"No, I don't need to-" I choke on my words, clutching the medallion in my hand, "to see this happen. I don't want to hear it."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the fact that you're not on Spencer's approved visitor’s list?"

"Maybe," It's taken me two years to learn not to lie to a profiler. "I don't know. But I don't want to see him, Dave. Please go. I'll be here."

I don't even need to ask. The look on their faces tells me everything. The way everyone holds themselves when they walk out and the way they glance around tells me what I need to know. Nobody looks up at me and nobody is running to me for a hug. Spencer isn’t at my side.

I chew on my cheeks and choke down my tears as I stand, meeting them in the middle of the hallway when they walk toward me. "So how bad was it?"

Stephen is the first fearless one to speak up. "The judge decided he was a flight risk,"

I furrow my eyebrows. "A flight risk? Seriously? My Spencer?"

Tara nods shamefully. "He didn't use his FBI passport, he didn't inform the bureau, the prosecutor claimed he had connections all over the world and could get a fake passport and go on the run if he was released on bail. The judge agreed."

"So what now? What happens to him?" Penelope moves towards me and grabs onto my hand, enlacing our fingers. If she didn’t do that, I might have fallen to the floor in a puddle of tears.

"He's gonna go back to the federal jail," Luke answers. "His trial is in three months and that'll determine if he goes to prison or not."

"Penelope?" I whisper and she just hums in response. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course. Whatever you need," Penelope nods, giving everyone a soft, slightly concerned smile before I lead her away.

///

"Um, seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Now?"

"Yeah, now."

"You or me?"

"Me. Why, do you want one? I'll draw whatever you want."

"No thanks."

I pull open the door and let Penelope walk in first, even though she seems incredibly hesitant, practically tiptoeing through the threshold. She manages to get me to crack a tiny smile, but that's the most she gets before I just revert to my sadness.

"Zav!" I call, noticing the front desk is empty. Nonetheless, I walk up and grab a post-it and a pen, starting to scribble little drawings.

Zav comes wandering from the back of the tattoo parlor at the sound of my voice, smiling. "Oh, hey there! Been a while since I've seen you. Here for some new ink? It's about time you added to your sleeves."

"Just something really quick," I tell him, picking up the post-it with the sixth design I'd drawn. "Not on my arm. On my hand, right here," I gesture to the empty space between my thumb and pointer finger.

"Sounds easy enough," Zav nods, then smiles at Penelope. "Hi, friend. Do I get the pleasure of inking you today?"

Penelope's eyes widen and she hastily shakes her head. "No, no, I'm just here with-- with-"

"No tattoos for her, just me." I save her from more stuttering and Zav puts his hands up in surrender. He winks at Penelope before sitting me in a chair and starting on the stencil.

“So,” Garcia asks over the buzzing of the tattoo gun, “what does this one mean? You've said that all your tattoos mean something. What's this one? And why is it so important that we do it now, after the trial?"

Careful not to disturb Zav's work, I reach into my pocket and pull out Spencer's medallion. I hold it up and show Penelope the compass, and she nods in a confused understanding. "When Spencer was in recovery, he was always told that north is the right way to go and obviously, going the right way is the road to recovery and being clean. Well, he told me that ever since he met me, he considered me to be his north or his reason to go north. I've been wanting this tattoo for a long time. Just never got around to getting it."

"That's really sweet," Penelope whispers, smiling at me. "How much pain are you in?"

"A lot," I answer through gritted teeth. "This one is right on my bone and those are the worst, but it's small so it's fine. It'll be done soon."

As anticipated, the tattoo is done within another few minutes. A compass rose with north labeled. Simple. But it’s beautiful and it’s the perfect reminder of Spencer while he’s gone. Temporarily gone. He’s going to come home. Soon.

He's going to jail. He's going to be sitting in jail for three months and I won't be able to see him, and then after that, he still might go to prison. No matter how much he reminds himself that I'm his north, and no matter how much time I spend at the BAU, no matter how many of his shirts I wear, no matter how many times I visit Diana and Cassie, it means absolutely nothing. The justice system is horrible and I know they have a job to do but why can't they see that my Spencer is innocent? Sure, he broke some protocol but all he was doing was trying to help his mom. It's not his fault that a serial killer was targeting the team and decided to sabotage his trip. He should be at home on bail and he should be searching for Scratch so his name can be cleared.

"Amelia?" Penelope's voice breaks me out of my trance and I notice that Zav has already walked away, probably to the front desk to ring me up. She rests her hand on my shoulder and gives me that same pitiful smile that everyone keeps giving me. "We're gonna get him out. We know he didn't do this."

"I miss him," I admit shakily, eyes locked on my new ink. "I know that I spend all my time at the BAU but everything reminds me of him. When I go home with Jenna, we pass by the cafe that me and him went to almost every day. Whenever I see someone carrying a revolver on tv or in the building, it makes me think of his gun. God, P, whenever I braid my hair, it makes me think of him. I functioned before I met him but with him, I was living and actually enjoying my life for the first time. But now that he's gone again," I look up at her, my lips quivering, "how am I supposed to live?"

Penelope opens her mouth to answer but then closes it again. She drags me into a hug, tighter than any hug we’ve had before. I let her squeeze the life out of me because it’s the only thing that feels similar to the way Spencer scoops me up and hugs me after being away on a case. "I wish I had a good answer. We're all hurting and we're all trying to get through this. As long as we lean on each other and you leave the crime fighting up to us, we'll get through this."

///

I stir awake, bundled up beneath a scratchy, knitted blanket and my head resting on a flat pillow. A yawn escapes my mouth before I even open my eyes, my body begging me to go back to sleep. I blatantly ignore it though, swinging my legs over the side of the couch and yawning again.

"Good morning, sunshine," Jenna comes wandering into her living room, holding out a cup of tea for me, "sleep well?"

I shake my head, sipping the not-well-made tea. "No,” I keep myself from scrunching up my nose at the odd taste, “I didn’t.”

Jenna gives me a tiny smile as she sits on the couch beside me. "Maybe you should try melatonin. I heard you watching tv at three in the morning." When I don't respond to her really smart and helpful suggestion, she moves on. "How's the tattoo?"

"Itchy," I glance at the covering of my tattoo, then shrug. "It's whatever. I'm used to it. What are you doing today?"

"Well, me and Frankie were gonna go do a shoot today. You should come. You haven't done any shoots in a while. I'm sure Frankie would love your help," Jenna encourages softly.

I shake my head yet again and take the last drink of my tea, then put the mug on the floor. "Thanks but no thanks. I'm gonna go to the BAU today. But I'm gonna shower first. I'll let you know what I'm doing tonight. Thanks for letting me stay here." And without another word, I stand and walk off to the too-bright bathroom.

Going into the BAU used to always be a fun experience. I looked forward to seeing Penelope and lounging around in her lair, and I looked forward to leaving little gifts for Spencer on his desk, and I looked forward to greeting the team when they arrived home from cases. The BAU quickly became like a second home to me when I started dating Spencer and I went there at every chance I could. But now the BAU is a reminder of the situation at hand, and despite the fact that I'm spending so much time here, I wish I didn't have to. The constant reminder is painful. Seeing Spencer’s desk and all of his belongings arranged in the perfect way he needs them to be is maybe the hardest part. Every time I look through the glass doors, my heart breaks a little more.

I've come to learn that seeing the team huddled up and speaking in hushed tones is never a good thing. But it's the first thing I see when the elevator doors open. My eyes are locked on them before I even open the glass doors to the bullpen. Penelope's eyes are wide and she's clinging to Luke's side and everyone is just looking concerned. That's never a good sign. They are federal agents and have seen the worst of the worst. They should be able to have some kind of poker face, no matter the situation.

JJ is the first to notice me, and when she looks up, she almost grimaces. "Amelia."

Okay. They didn't get a case. This is about Spencer. Something happened with Spencer. Did he get beat up in jail? Did they find more evidence? If they found more evidence, then it's surely not in Spencer's favor. What did they find? What are they hesitant to tell me? Why does everyone look like they’ll burst into tears if I say one wrong word? What the hell happened?

I keep a few feet between me and them, clutching the straps of my backpack, my breath caught in my throat. "What's going on?" I ask, my voice quieter than I expected it to be. "Is Spencer okay?"

The team shares glances and Penelope bows her head, and all the horrible thoughts in my head intensify. Emily clears her throat and my eyes dart over to her. "Spencer," she speaks strongly and confidently, "was transferred to prison this morning."

Spencer likes to put a mountain of sugar in his coffee. Spencer can only fall asleep if he’s read at least two books while lying in bed. And, of course, only after he has received what he deems as a sufficient amount of kisses from me. Spencer prefers to take the train to work instead of driving. Spencer likes to hold my hand when we walk the street. Spencer orders swirled soft serve at every ice cream parlor. Spencer wears purple whenever he gets the chance.

Spencer doesn't fight. Spencer isn't violent. Spencer isn't a criminal. Spencer hates shooting his gun and he wouldn’t even walk around with it on his hip until I told him it didn't bother me. Spencer doesn't resort to violence to solve his problems. He’s the one who puts the violent people where they deserve. Those killers and rapists deserve to be in prison. Not the man who thinks it’s bad luck to wear matching socks. Definitely not the man who mumbles my name in his sleep and whines if he reaches over and I’m not sleeping beside him.

My Spencer doesn't belong in prison.

I'm stunned into silence for a moment and it's almost like I'm waiting for someone to tell me this is a joke. Spencer's not in prison with the worst of the worst. That he's not with the people that he has spent his life hunting and putting away. He isn’t locked inside with people who could be sentenced to life in prison, or in a cell people who will kill him just to have a new pair of shoes, or people who have nothing left to lose.

"He's-" I gulp but my saliva tastes sour and it burns my throat, "he's in prison?"

"There was overcrowding in the jail," Tara explains softly. "I know it's not ideal but-"

"He's-" I cut her off, my voice sharp, "he's in prison? He's in prison with the same people that you guys put away and he's-" my hands fall from my backpack and tears start to fall down cheeks, my eyes darting around until they land on Rossi. "He's with people like my-"

"Why don't you come with me?" Dave cuts me off, stepping forward, holding his arm out for me.

As I break down into sobs, he leads me into his office, sitting me down on a couch as he closes the door. I curl up into myself and cry, and cry, and cry for my boyfriend who is suffering immensely for a crime he didn't commit. He's locked inside a cage with horrible people like my father and he can't escape.

"Amelia, we're gonna get him out," Dave pulls up a chair in front of me, letting out a sigh that doesn't do much to convince me. "We're spending every second we can on his case and searching for evidence that will-"

"He's gonna be in a fucking prison," I sneer, lifting my head, revealing my smudging makeup and tear-stained cheeks, "with people like my father!" Dave sighs again, ducking his head. He doesn't say anything and I don't know what to make of that. "He's gonna be with killers and rapists and abusers and men who kill their wife and son and leave their orphaned daughter to be abused in foster homes!"

"Amelia, I don't know if this will help you at all but, just so you know, serial killers are not held in general population. Serial killers have their own specific wings and they don't get mixed up with the other inmates."

I scoff, staring down at my lap, watching as my tears drip onto my clothes. "Inmates. I guess that's all he is now, right? An inmate?"

"No, Amelia, he's not just another inmate," Dave shakes his head and leans forward, trying to offer me comfort by proximity, but it just makes me feel cramped and overwhelmed. "We're going to get him out of there. I promise."

His promise only makes me cry more. I'd do anything to hear Spencer make another promise to me. I'd do anything just to see him again, but Spencer didn't want me in a jail and I can't imagine he'd want me in a prison. I won't be able to see him, or hear him, or feel him until he gets exonerated. That's going to take days, weeks, months. It could take years. Could go years without seeing his smile and feeling his touch and listening to him ramble on and on about whatever random factoid surfaces in his brain.

"You should go back to work," I whisper, wiping my cheeks. "Sitting here and watching me cry doesn't help anyone. I'll go somewhere else and worry by myself."

I stand and adjust my backpack, but the whole world just seems wrong. It seems like it's spinning and it feels like I just don't belong here. It feels like I've slipped into a different dimension that I don't belong in. It feels like I should just be able to take a nap and wake up and Spencer will be right next to me, kissing my neck and telling me he has to go to work. I'm waiting for the day that I can experience that again.

///

SPENCER

///

I never thought I'd be in prison. Maybe that's a dumb statement, but it's true. I thought my closest relation to prison would be sending criminals there, occasionally going in to interview inmates, and seldom breaking up riots and breaks. I never thought I'd be forced into blues and shower shoes and thrown into my own cell. I never thought this would become my life. I never thought I'd be sitting out on the prison yard, surveying my fellow inmates and wondering who I should avoid and who I could trust enough to keep me alive long enough for me to return home.

"Sup?" A group of three men I recognize from previously stroll up to me, their hands tucked in their pockets, and that alone makes me more nervous than their confident aura. I rise to my feet when they approach me, not out of obedience, but just because I don't want them to hold too much power over me in height. "Got any bats?"

I furrow my eyebrows in the slightest. "Bats?" Maybe I should've listened to Amelia when she rattled off her slang. Amelia.

"Cigarettes," the same guy clarifies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, glancing towards his buddy next to him. I fight the urge to jump as the redhead slings his arm over my shoulder, standing uncomfortably close to me. If I wasn't in a prison, I'd rattle off how many germs he passed on to me just by doing that, but I know I'd get beat up for doing so. I keep my mouth shut.

"No, sorry, I don't smoke," it's my honest answer, but I almost instantly regret it. Will they kill me just because I don't have any cigarettes to give them? Is that how it works in here?

"Yeah," that same inmate keeps speaking, "I think I'm gonna quit." But then he narrows his eyes at me and takes a step closer. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah," I answer, but I know my unsure sounding voice has completely betrayed me, "I'm o-okay, thanks."

The third man chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. "Does he look okay to you?"

The redhead leans in closer to me and it takes all my self control not to cringe. "Looks like he's gonna cry."

"Or wet his pants," the first man laughs, and the other two join in with their own chuckles. "Hey, we're just messing- out of respect, you know? It's all over the yard that you stole from Milos."

I quickly shake my head, finally gaining the confidence to shake the redhead’s arm off of me. Well, if they said they respect me, I might as well. He doesn't put up a fight when I do so. "But I didn't steal from Milos. That was my stuff."

"No," Redhead interrupts, "that was a tribute. Everyone has to pay when they join the group."

I glance between the three of them and they're all stony-faced, but I'm confused. I don't get it. What are they talking about? It's clear to them, but not to me. "What group?" I dare to ask the question.

The third man scoffs yet again. "You're kidding, right? Take a look around. They outnumber us.”

"So we gotta stick together," Redhead goes on, and it all starts to make sense. A gang. They want me to join their gang. Am I gang material? Is this a compliment? Is this some weird, sick, twisted, prison-style compliment? "In here, we're the minority."

They're serious, and it's obvious. There are no chuckles. There are no side eye glances. My profiler skills aren't going off and telling me that they're lying. They're serious. They want me to join a gang.

What would happen if I accept? Does that make me a target by the majority? Will that make the majority look at me and want to take me out? I have to survive three months, at most, in here and that's it. I have to do whatever I need to stay alive for three months, and that's it. But what if I reject them? Will that make me an even bigger target if I say no? Will they take that rejection lightly? I can't imagine they would. Which is the lesser of the two evils? Do I really want to join a gang during my three month prison stay? Would I want to join a gang at all?

"I'm not interested," I say quickly, and attempt to make a quick exit. "Thanks anyway."

Before I can even leave, they catch me. "No, no, no," the first guy shakes his head, his arm now around my shoulders, his jaw clenched, "that's not the way this is gonna go."

"Hey," the third guy interrupts, "Tony-O is over there and he's waiting for us,"

The first guy pats my chest and, thankfully, lets me go. "Okay, my man, we gotta go. But," the three start to back away with devious smiles that I've seen far too many times on psychopaths, "no worries, we'll catch you tonight."

They'll catch me tonight. That can't be good. My eyes follow them as they approach someone else, but when they start chatting like friends, I look away. But then my eyes land on someone I can't look away from because he looks familiar. I know for a fact I didn't see him in the room of cots, but I know I've seen him before.

Ever since the situation in Mexico, my brain has been a little bit slow to react and recall faces and facts, but suddenly, it comes to me. I squint my eyes as a name flashes in my head. Calvin Shaw. He was an FBI agent who killed a criminal agent who was working for a Russian mob. He turned himself in and he's been here ever since, but I studied his case in school and he's become an example at the bureau of what not to do.

He's here? At this prison? And why is he staring at me like that? Does he know who I am? Do I radiate federal agent energy? Amelia talks about people's energy's all the time. Maybe I should've listened to her. I'm realizing that maybe I should have appreciated her more than I did. If I get out of here, I need to lay down all my love for that girl as soon as possible.

The guards blow their whistles and shout for us to line up so they start the process of corralling us back inside. Some inmates are brought back to their cells while others, like me, are brought to rooms with a bunch of cots lined up.

Time takes forever to pass by in prison. There's nothing to do and there's no type of stimulation. I just sit on my bed and try to tune out the chatter surrounding me. I try my hardest not to let my mind wander off to my friends or my girlfriend or my mother because I'll go crazy if I start worrying about them. They're fine without me, I bet.

I sit on my bed with my knees to my chest and guard the box of things I'd fought to get back from another inmate, making sure they don't get stolen yet again. That decision to reclaim my things almost got me killed once and I don't feel like getting in that situation again.

It's nearly impossible to tell what time it is because there are no windows but eventually, a few guards come by to scream at us to shut up. Wilkins looks around as the room falls silent and then informs us that it’s lights out.

My heart starts to pound when the lights go dark and the guards walk away because, despite the darkness, I see three familiar men rise from their cots and stalk over to me. Like on the yard, I rise to my feet just so they don't get too much power over me. I know that I've made the right decision to do so when one man pulls out a makeshift knife he's clearly made from a bed frame or something he smuggled in. The panic and unfiltered fear settle in. My instincts tell me to run, but there is nowhere to go. I don’t have a gun to defend myself, there is no way to talk these men down like I’ve done to others in the past, there’s nothing I can do. I’m all on my own.

One guy smirks, stepping up to me. "It's party time."

The two other men quickly grab my arms and tie my wrists behind my back, then shove a sock in my mouth to keep me quiet and muffle the sounds of me screaming, just so a guard doesn't come in and interrupt. Is that good? Does that mean they're not planning on killing me? They're just going to beat me up?

They start dragging me off, into the connected bathroom and my screams echo even louder off the wall. I'm doing what I can to get out of the grasps of the men but I've never been physically strong. Maybe I should've taken the fit tests more seriously. Maybe I should've gone training when Morgan asked me to go. Maybe I should've taken my life more seriously.

"So," there's another man with a thick accent standing there already, his arms crossed over his chest, "you're too good to be with us? We offer you friendship and what do you do? Spit in our faces."

The redhead tightens his grip on my arm. "Thinks he can survive in here without our help."

"You," the man with the accent grabs the knife, "you need to show some respect," he brings the knife up to my face and traces the blade across my skin. I'm not sure what they're planning on doing to my face but I know it won't feel good.

"Do it," one guy encourages, smirking.

"Back off," there's another voice now, and the four men holding me stop in their tracks, "now." I turn my head to see who my savior is, and it's none other than Calvin Shaw. "Untie him," he says, and the guys behind me quickly do so, and take the sock out of my mouth. "Now get out of here," he tells me and gestures back into the main room. I hesitate, but Calvin gives me a pointed look. "Go on. Go."

I high tail it out of there, my heart pounding harder than it ever has before. I think it could positively burst out of my chest as I return to my cot. It dawns on me now how many people are in this room, and not a single one of them stepped up to help me. Nobody yelled for a guard or helped me fend off the gang or did anything at all.

So I sit down on my cot and I don't even lay down. I don't dare to go to sleep and I barely even blink. I'm even paranoid that, due to the position of my cot, there are people behind me that I can't see. I'm too freaked out. I'm too scared that those men will come back and kill me for real.

I've faced the scariest men and women in the world. I've witnessed things that I never should have and I've talked myself out of horrible situations. I can't escape this. I can't flash my identification or shoot a few bullets and then go home to Amelia. I can't do that. I have to spend every second of my life with my guard up, watching my back at the same time I'm watching my front and my sides just to make sure no one is coming for me. It's day one and I'm already panicked and I'm already lost. I just want to go home.

///

The next two days are like walking on eggshells. I'm constantly watching my back, front, and sides and I'm making sure to keep everyone in front of me at all times. I can't move my cot without risking a fight so I'm barely sleeping at night. I force myself to stay awake to guard myself and protect myself from any possible attacks.

I get to have a talk with Calvin at a time when the cell blocks are open, and he shows nothing but compassion for me. He believes my innocence, shares the story of his sentence, and gives me a book I've never read before. It feels good to have someone I can trust. I can tell he's powerful in this prison, judging by the way he told those gang guys to stop beating me up and they immediately complied. Sitting in his cell is the only time I allowed myself to relax in the slightest.

But that relaxation is short lived because soon the guards are telling us to get back to where we belong. We get cuffed and shoved along to our cells or wherever else, and I get back to my cot. I sit with my knees to my chest and prop my eyes wide open, despite how utterly exhausted I am. I've barely slept in the three days I've been here and I don't know how much longer I can stand this.

"Reid," my name is called by a guard along with a few other names, and we all quickly rise to our feet. "Grab your things and let’s go."

I quickly grab my little bucket of belongings that I've been guarding with my life and hold it close to my chest as I approach the guards. I'm thankful that they don't cuff us as they take us one by one into different blocks.

Wilkins, of course, is gripping my arm harder than he needs to be as he shoves me along a corridor. I keep my eyes forward and no matter how badly I want to see what prisoners I'm walking past, I don't let my eyes wander. I've already seen a guy beat someone else up on the yard just for looking at him and I'm not wanting that to be my future.

"Hold," Wilkins snaps, and I force my feet to freeze in their spot. Then I feel him shoving me inside with, again, more force than needed. "Now get in there." Once I wiggle my way through, not really fitting with the tray I'm holding, Wilkins shouts for the door to close. He gives me another look before stomping away, leaving me all alone in my new home.

I set my tray down on the little table beside me and immediately notice the book on the bed. It's the one that Calvin had told me about yesterday, and I guess he arranged for it to be in my cell.

"Hey," I suddenly hear Calvin's voice from the cell beside mine, "welcome to the neighborhood!"

///

AMELIA

///

I throw my backpack onto the floor of my apartment, locking the door behind me, groaning in pain with every step I take. I dread when I'll eventually have to walk up to my room, but I plan on avoiding it as long as possible.

I start on my walk to the kitchen for a drink, probably a huge glass of wine, but then I stop in my tracks when there's a small, cold breeze against my legs. I shake it off and drag myself into the kitchen. The window is closed and the plants on the windowsill are half dead. Of course, they are. I haven't been home enough to water them.

I grab a wine glass from a cabinet that's far too high for me, definitely placed there by Spencer, and fill it almost to the brim. I toss the entire drink back in seconds and then pour another drink. Once I have my second glass in my hand, I fill a new glass with water and start to feed my dead plants that are probably past the point of return. Once I've quenched the kitchen plants, I move to the bigger one beside the balcony door.

As I approach it, I roll my eyes. I've located the source of the breeze and it's coming from the cracked open balcony door. I’ve left the door open for two days straight. I shake my head at myself and pour the rest of the water into the plant before closing and clicking the lock on the balcony door.

I barely even realize that my hand starts to shake while I pour the water into the plant. I'm blinded by tears that I don't feel coming and something in my mind tells me that the more wine I drink, the less I'll cry. Drink more wine. Drink more wine. So I gulp down the rest of my wine glass and ignore it as my head starts to get fuzzy.

I throw both glasses into the sink and then grab the cracked open wine bottle, taking a long sip. Drink more wine. Drink more wine.

It smells sweet in the kitchen. Did I light a candle? What in the kitchen smells like bubblegum?

My body is moving around the kitchen and through the living room, but my brain is so fuzzy and everything is so blurry that it doesn’t even feel like I’m moving. I feel like I’m floating with my lids drooping closed, hands moving like they’re being told to. I nearly collapse against the couch, but it feels like I’m pulled back up and pushed back to my feet. Drink more wine. You want to drink more wine.

I grab the bottle and chug down the rest of the contents, my trembling hand dropping it to the ground. I barely even jolt when it shatters at my feet.

The glass, it feels like I have a voice whispering instructions in my ear. Pick up the glass. I fall to my knees and grip a piece of jagged glass in my hand, watching blood come to the surface and stain the clear surface. Tighter. I oblige, watching a drop of blood fall to the floor. A drop stains my jeans. Go to the stairs.

I toss the glass aside and crawl to the stairs, collapsing at the bottom and dropping my head onto a stair. I bring my knees to my chest, my cries fill the apartment as I slump down, my whole body shaking as I sob. I'm not sure how long it takes me to fall asleep on the staircase, but I do, and the alcohol keeps me asleep the whole night, something I haven't been able to do in a while.

///

"Amelia? Hey, are you here? I hope you are, the door's unlocked."

I whine as I'm roused from my sleep, and as I start to move, I'm expected to be comforted by my duvet. But instead, I go sliding down two steps of my staircase, groaning as I hit my hip. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes as I process the intense pounding in my head.

"Are you-" Penelope comes and stands in front of me, freezing when she sees me, "whoa, you look awful."

I let out a humorless laugh, rolling my eyes. "Gee, thanks."

She observes my surroundings- bloody hand, smudged makeup, messy hair, wrinkled clothes, tear-stained cheeks, sleeping on the stairs. It's not hard to tell what's going on, especially for someone who has been hanging around profilers for over a decade. I'm sure everyone on the team can see that I'm spiraling, and it's obvious to Penelope too.

"How'd you get in?" I ask, shakily pushing myself to my feet and grabbing onto the railing to steady myself.

"Well, I knocked and you didn't answer but the door was unlocked. I came to check up on you because I know you were really upset yesterday. I, well,” she pauses, wringing her hands together, “I'm not really sure what I say but I'm really sorry if I-"

"No," I cut her off, shaking my head, hugging the railing and trying to hide my bloody hand from her view. She looks utterly heartbroken, but I'm not sure what the cause is. If it's because of Spencer or because I lost my cool at the BAU, I'm not sure. "I should be the one apologizing. It was my fault. I overreacted. Um," my eyes wander down to the ground and I ignore the few pieces of random broken glass that have trailed towards the stairs, "I was just kinda upset. Then when Dave was talking to me, he promised that you guys would get him out of prison. Promising was kind of mine and Spencer's thing. Him saying that just made it so much worse."

"O-Oh," Penelope's eyebrows pop up, "I had no idea."

I nod and fall back onto the stairs. "When we first met and he told me he didn't shake hands, I went home and I just thought about how we could do something similar to shaking hands but not actually shaking hands. One of the options I presented to him the next time we saw each other was pinky promising. He liked it and it just stuck. Promising just became our thing." Penelope stares at me, her lips turned downward and her hands laced in front of her, head bowed. “Well, I’m gonna go take a shower. Thanks for checking up on me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Penelope just slightly perks up now, lifting her head and giving me an attempt at a smile. “If you need anything, let me know. And make sure to double check that your door is locked.”

“I will, thanks,” I turn on my heel and start stumbling up the stairs, clinging to the railing for support. My brain is pounding against my skull and I can’t keep a thought in my head for more than a second. My hand is throbbing.

“Hey,” Penelope pauses at the door, looking up at me, “did you light a candle?” I shake my head. “Hmm. It smells like bubblegum in here.”

TAGLIST

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evermorehaikyuu · 4 years

Text

Day 10

Title: The Consequence of Exhaustion

Note: There is a major character death this time, so be warned.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

He couldn’t stop. As much as she warned him about the consequences, he just didn’t stop and that ended up with him somewhere else, somewhere where he couldn’t do or see the things he loved most.

Everyone had warned him about what would’ve happened if he didn’t stop and slow down. Even Kageyama warned him and still, he didn’t listen.

It had been years since he last collapsed, but Takeda and Ukai had both warned him about the consequences of not taking a break. Exhaustion and sleep deprivation together made a deadly and fatal combination, usually leading up to a heart attack and killing the person. Hinata was currently in the MSBY Black Jackals, never forgetting about that moment as he made sure that he never got that sick again so he could play volleyball.

“Shoyo, you need to take a break!” Y/N shouted as she marched inside the volleyball gym, her eyes pleading with him.

Hinata, Atsumu, and Bokuto were the last ones in the gym and knowing Hinata, Y/N had marched inside and taken matters into her own hands. Hinata glances at Bokuto and Atsumu nervously, asking silently for help. Bokuto said, “He’s okay! We’re making sure that he’s fine--”

“I know you care about Shoyo a lot, but he needs to go and rest now, he’s been at it for too long.” Y/N said patiently, but her words pierced Hinata as he realized that she was only trying to get him up to good health. “Shoyo, please, just...come with me.”

Her eyes were begging for him to take a break, so he gave in on the spot and followed behind her. He mumbled, “Y/N, I’m okay, I can take care of myself.”

“I know sometimes I’m too naggy and I know you love volleyball more than anything--”

“Not more than you!” Hinata said, gazing at her with concern before reaching out to try and take her hand. She allowed him to, entwining their fingers as if it was a natural reflex. Her small laugh made him relax and he listened to her next words attentively.

“No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just...on that day, you scared me.” Y/N gripped his hands and he knew she was thinking about what had happened to him during the Kamomedai game.

The sound of Hinata spiking the ball across the gym, his lips turned upwards in a giant grin as he realized that it was his turn to serve, his turn to continue playing. There was nothing that could stop him, he was doing great, amazing even. Even with the amount of sweat pouring down from his forehead and his legs heavy from the amount, he felt on top of the world as he played on the court.

Tanaka reached over to him to give him a high five. “Nice receive!”

“Thanks!” However, as Hinata tried to return his high five, he found his hand falling through the floor until he was staring at the ground, his heart racing abnormally fast, his muscles aching and his head slowly starting to hurt. He couldn’t stand up, he stayed there, his mind racing.

Y/N was watching him from the stands with Yachi, but she was already screaming internally, grabbing onto Yachi’s sleeve. “Is he okay? What happened to him, why did he collapse?”

As Hinata tried to stand, he toppled over, his eyes flickering at his surroundings, not knowing what was going on with him. Karasuno took a timeout and Hinata was sitting down at a bench, staring at his teammates and his coach. “I’m not sick!”

“Oh, God. His first Nationals and he has a fever….” Y/N put a hand over her mouth, shuddering as she watched his look of desperation to get back in the game, followed by a look of despair at the reality sinking in: he wouldn’t be able to play anymore.

He was sent back to the hotel with Yachi and Y/N but Y/N could feel him screaming at himself and the fact that he was trying to blink back his tears almost made her tear up herself. From that day on, she swore to herself not to let that happen ever again.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I’ve got you by my side now!” Hinata exclaimed.

Y/N nodded happily, before walking along with him. Both of them stayed in the streets, enjoying the other’s company. What Y/N didn’t know, along with Hinata himself, was that Hinata’s body was slowly shutting down on itself. Hinata, in his excitement about being in the Black Jackals, had not taken a proper break and stretched himself to the limit.

Night after night of staying up to watch volleyball matches, he didn’t realize that he had not gotten a wink of sleep. Hinata was too high-strung and that could’ve ruined him immediately. Results, however, are very slow and they catch up before anyone can detect them.

This time was different than him just collapsing. It’d be much more fatal.

Hinata was at volleyball practice again and Y/N was currently cleaning everything up, cleaning the house and making HInata’s favorite food. It wasn’t a special day like their anniversary, but she thought that any day could be a special day, even if it was an ordinary day.

Not for long.

Song after song playing in her earbuds, it was cut off abruptly by a phone call. Picking it up, she answered Atsumu’s call. “Hey, Atsumu, what’s--”

“Y/N, listen to me closely.” His voice was grave and panicky at the same time. He had never sounded so serious before, something must’ve happened. The only reason she could speculate that he was calling her was because something had happened to Hinata.

“Atsumu…?” She clutched her phone with both hands, her breath coming out shakily. “Nothing happened to Hinata, right?”

He paused on the other line and she could practically see his face. “He’s going to the hospital right now. He collapsed in the locker room, he was knocked out. Y/N, there was an ambulance and everything, they never told us anything, you need to get there now! Y/N? Are you listening to me?”

Y/N had dropped her phone, the vision of Hinata in an ambulance hitting her like a ton of bricks. Grabbing her jacket and keys, she had ignored the phone on the floor and sprinted out of her house, getting into the car.

Atsumu ended the call as he looked over at Bokuto and Sakusa’s faces. They were indescribable, but somehow, all four of them had a bad feeling about this.

Y/N slammed the door to her car, quickly locking it as she ran into the hospital, heading to the counter in a daze. She could barely see what was in front of her and accidentally crashed into several people. There was no way she’d let anything happen to Hinata. She made a vow for herself to always take care of him and now here she was, in the hospital because she couldn’t do a simple task.

“Hinata Shoyo? He’s on the thirteenth floor.”

The thirteenth floor. Always the subject of myths and legends and superstitions of nothing ever good coming out of there. Just the words themselves made her feel like she was heading to her demise. She could swear that every building with more than ten floors got rid of the thirteenth floor and now she was on her way to the floor.

Once she stepped outside and hurried to where they were holding Hinata, a security guard told her, “Ma’am, you can’t step inside. They’re performing something on him.”

“When are they going to be done? Do you know? Please tell me, I need to see him!” She begged; even to herself, she sounded pathetically weak as she tried to look over the man’s shoulder. Nothing. He was like an iron wall, unbreakable.

“No, but I will make sure you are the first to see him.” The guard reassured her, leading her to take a seat.

Hours passed by and every minute felt like an eternity, making time go back excruciatingly slow and painful. She wrung her hands together, her leg bouncing in place as she bit her lip, trying to shake her head of the negative thoughts.

When the surgeons got out of the room, she stood up quickly. “Where is Hinata? Is he okay? What happened to him--”

“Miss. He never made it.” The lead surgeon said. “Our efforts were futile, he had gotten a heart attack but he was feeble and another attack finished him off while we were trying to help him.”

He’s not dead. He can’t be dead, it’s impossible, there’s no way Hinata Shoyo is dead. “He’s still alive, tell me he’s still alive!” She tried to push past them only to be held back by the security guard. She struggled against him. “Let go of me! I need to see him, let me see him, let me through! LET ME THROUGH, LET ME SEE SHOYO!” She screamed, trying to get out of the man’s grip and struggling like a rabid animal.

All of this took her energy away and she burst into tears, her tears falling down her face quickly as her shoulders shook. She covered her mouth so as to try and mask the bawls coming out of her with no avail. Pitiful wails and cries came out of her, raging through the breaking barrier.

The doctors could only look at her, some with melancholy in their eyes at seeing this young woman weep over someone she had tried to protect all her life, only to not be by his side when he passed away.

Hinata Shoyo, the greatest decoy, the man she had loved with all her heart, was dead.

“Come home, Shoyo, come back to me, please….” She whispered, even though she knew that her words were useless. No words could bring someone back from the grave, no matter how much love they had for the person.

Hinata watched from the corner of the room, staring at his translucent body before looking back at the girl who had told himself he’d take care of. The girl he told himself he’d protect. The girl he told himself he’d marry.

All of those broken dreams, now withered away and dead like he was. If only he had stopped. There were so many things he hadn’t done. He hadn’t gone on vacation with her. He hadn’t gotten to see her in a white dress. He would never teach his kids volleyball. He hadn’t gotten to kiss her one last time.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll wait for you.” He said quietly, wiping his own tears away. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

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