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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 3 years

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I’m On Fire [Chapter 2]

With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

Chapter Summary: Y/N and Spencer start to put a plan together.

A/N: I’ve got a head cold at the mo’ but I had to get a covid test just in case so I’m not allowed leave my room till I get the results! So enjoy a bonus chapter while I wallow on my own for like 36 hours :( On a positive note, thank you guys all so much for the response to chapter 1 I really didn’t see that coming! I’ve tagged everyone who asked, let me know if you wanna be added

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: Cursing, some NSFW language/themes

Word Count: 6.1k

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"Are you coming up or what?"

The question was still ringing in my ears. It caught me completely off guard. 'Up' as in up to Spencer's apartment? Where he lived? I knew he lived somewhere in theory, just like I knew deep down that he wasn't made in a test tube.

Without noticing I've undone my seatbelt and I'm hopping out of the car, following him around to the front door. I guess I am coming up.

Spencer's apartment is more cosy than I thought it was going to be. It's warm and lived in. It's not big, but I think that might be what makes it homely. Something about the way he behaves had me thinking it would be fully decked out in stainless steel or glass or something. But it wasn't pristine, it was messy.

There were books bursting from the shelves that lined the walls of the apartment, along with books laid open over nearly every surface in the place, it looked like he was in the middle of reading all of them, and honestly, I didn't doubt it. Maybe I'd misjudged him. He even had some photos of what looked like his family, and maybe friends, even some of the BAU, lining his walls or propped up on his mantle. He had little trinkets and souvenirs on his shelves too, evidence that he'd been around the country for reasons other than a case. I would never admit it to him but there was a real charm to the place.

Once we got inside he took off his bag and suit jacket, tossing them on the desk just inside of the door. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, and he seemed to pick up on my awkward energy.

"You can make yourself at home" he said, his confident streak remaining. I had no idea what to do with that. What would even make me comfortable in Spencer Reid's apartment? I took a seat on his sofa and just sat with my hands resting in my lap. Really not even sure where I should look without feeling like I was invading his privacy. Even though I wanted to. I think it was morbid curiosity, looking for clues on who this man might actually be outside of the BAU. What I really wanted to do was stand up and walk around, soaking in every bit if this place as if it would help me decipher our messy relationship.

He returned to the living room a few moments later, two mismatched mugs in his hands. He places one in front of me on the coffee table. I pick it up and take a sip. It's lemon and ginger, how did he know what kind of tea I liked? I held the mug in my hands inhaling the steam in an effort to relax. When I look up he's watching me, arms folded across his chest.

"So, how does this thing work. What's the game plan?" I honestly have no real idea. This evening really got away from me, I was still expecting to snap out of it and wake up in my bed at any moment.

"Well I can't say I've ever been in a Sandra Bullock movie before either so this is uncharted territory for me too" I say with a chuckle, trying to ease the tension. Even a little. I can see him crack a small smile but hides it almost instantly, his face hardening again.

"My sister, Margot, she's getting married in like 4 months." I can feel myself tense and I shake out my shoulders, I have to remind myself that he's agreed to this already, "Fuck it, I'm just going to be honest with you. My Mom's mostly freaked out that I'm too attached to this job and that I'll just never find someone again." I shouldn't have said again, fuck. I hope he didn't pick up on that. Who am I kidding. "Even though, I'm not sure I care if I do or don't?" he doesn't say anything, like he's waiting for me to continue. I know I've shared a little too much already but I keep going.

"Margot's 2 years younger than me, I introduced her to her fiancé Philip, we met in college, he's a sweetheart. But since they've gotten engaged Mom's gotten exponentially weirder. I think she's convinced I'm fully going to die alone, as if that would be the worst thing that could ever happen? Anyway, she's been trying to auction me off to all these guys, using this wedding as an excuse. I'm not sure how much of that phone call you actually heard earlier but Mom was trying to sell me on this guy, David, and I just… snapped." I look up at Spencer and he unfolds his arms, leaning in ever so slightly coaxing the story out of me.

"David, he uh, he worked for my father for a while back in high school, filing documents and stuff, busy work mostly. He used to make out with me when he was at our house after school, but then he'd ignore me in the halls the next morning. I know it's because I was a pariah back then or something but I didn't want to think about it today and I just got worked up. I shouldn't have let on that you were my date, I was just going to ask if I could bring Garcia or something, and I'm sorry." I cover my face in my hands, "I'm insane, you can back out if you want to."

I can hear him move from his spot on the opposite side of the sofa, he takes my wrists and gently pulls my hands from my face. He looks into my eyes, "I'm in this now Y/N, what do you need me to do?" he asks, and there's a genuine earnest in his voice that I think I've only ever heard a handful of times. And it's never been directed at me.

"Okay, well we've got a few months before you ha–, wait, fuck!" I throw my head back, there's already a complication, "shit" I curse under my breath. His eyebrows knit together, sitting upright.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"I forgot about my Mom's 50th, it's next month. They've got this whole huge party planned back home in upstate New York. I've gotta go and they'll probably want to meet you, or they're gonna have a load of questions for me at least. I can try and get you out of it I'm sure"

He gets that cocky look again, he shakes his head "I don't know, I've always liked a bit of competition" he reclines back into his corner of the sofa, taking a satisfied sip from his own mug before speaking again. "You know, if I've got to learn enough to pass as your boyfriend in a month, surely that means you've got to learn enough to pass as my girlfriend within the month, no?"

Oh god. What have I done, why didn't I think this far ahead. "I mean, yeah I guess you're right." I had to remember he was doing me a favor. I had to get over myself. "Okay, if you're sure you're up for that?" I ask, and he nods, and I think he looks excited, or maybe he just finds the whole situation funny.

"If anyone's up for the competition it's you" he says, and I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a dig but I nod in agreement.

He takes another sip of his tea, collected and relaxed. I can't help but notice how at ease he is when he's in his own surroundings. I'm so used to seeing him sitting at a desk surrounded by paperwork, or combing through file after file in the make-shift office in a small-town police station, usually flustered or anxious, or antagonizing me whenever he wasn’t. This was a different Spencer. Completely in control, at ease.

"Alright, shall we get started then, we can't really afford to waste any time can we?" he was actually sort of right, so I nodded. It was only now occurring to me that I'd have to share parts of my personal life with him if I wanted this plan to work. We already knew the basics about each other, I'd read his file when I started at the BAU, I'd read everyones. And I feel like it was safe to presume he'd done the same.

His eyes bore directly into mine as he leaned forward, I think he was enjoying how uncomfortable I must've looked.

"How about I ask you some rapid-fire questions and you have to answer 'em?" he asks, and it's as good of a plan as any, and I can't think of any other suggestions, so I nod.

"Okay, shoot." I say, unsure and nervous, so I brace myself. I'm just grateful that he's making my life easier rather than harder for what feels like the first time since I met him.

I really should've known better.

He leans in, "So Y/N, first question, when did you lose your virginity?"

I almost choke on the mouthful of tea I just took, that can't be what he just asked, and he looks like he's savoring my shocked expression.

"I uh, I don't think you need to know that?" is all I can get out.

"Really? You think that's something your boyfriend wouldn't know about you?" he's right, but I didn't want to admit it outright.

"I feel like I sort of already hinted. It was that same guy David, I was 18, he was 19. We had sex on the couch while my parents went out one evening. I kept my bra on the whole time, he came, I didn't. It was all very standard stuff." I wasn't sure what compelled me to add that last part. I think I was giving in to the open honestly thing. "So what about you Doc?" I challenged.

He didn't seem embarrassed, or even shy. "I must've bloomed little later than you" he admits with a soft chuckle, "Vivian Stewart, I was 21, she was too. It was the last semester of my last PhD and I figured I must be missing out on something. And I sure was" he smirks to himself. "I came, she did too, 3 times. I did a lot of research ahead of time" he mirrored my story and I rolled my eyes. It was hard not to feel a little impressed but I tried with everything I had to stifle it so he couldn't tell. I wish it didn't make me feel something but it did. I gulp down the mouthful of tea that's been sitting in my throat.

I have to shake myself back to reality. I can't give him the satisfaction of throwing me. "My turn." I command, "When was your last relationship Dr. Reid?" I ask, "I mean like, serious one, not like hook-up" I clarify before he can ask. He thinks on it for a moment.

"I'm not sure what you classify as fully serious, but I guess it was this girl, Rebecca, we dated for a while when I first joined the BAU but it didn't work out. What about you?" he flips it back.

"So that was what, like 6-ish years ago?" I ask, he just nods.

"Mine was like 3 years ago now I think. I met this guy Nathan on my first week of college, we dated for like 4 years. He moved here for me when I got accepted by the BAU." I had to stop myself from delving into the detail. It was a long time ago now but it still hurt. "Long story short, the hours were demanding and they got in the way more than I would've liked. We ended up splitting a couple months after I got the job." I tried to play it off like it wasn't one of the more devastating things to happen in my life. But something told me he’d registered that, so he didn't push.

His energy picks up and he looks at me with a grin, but there's something a little sinister behind it. "I've got a more fun question for you." he leans in closer to me, "Y/N, when was the last time you got laid?" I just looked at him in shock.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, I can go first if you really need me to?" his voice didn't waver,

"Fuck you Reid, I know when it was!" I snapped back at him. I did have to think back a little farther than I'd like to pull up the memory.

"Met this guy in a bar when I was out with Pen one night, we went back to his place and hooked up." I say as deadpan as I can make it.

"Well that's not very exciting is it?" he jokes, "Did you at least cum that time?" I know he's just trying to rile me up, but I answer anyway.

"As a matter of fact I did" I earn back a little of my confidence.

"I'm so happy for you, but you did manage to avoid my initial question" fuck "when was this exciting night of yours Y/N?" he probes, like I really, really wished he wouldn't. I could lie, but I'm sure he'd be able to tell. I cringe before I can say it.

"About 8 months ago" I mutter, just low enough for him to hear.

"Sorry, did you just say 8 months ago?" He nearly shouts in disbelief, he seems to find it funny.

"Hey fuck you Spencer!" I go on the defensive, "When was the last time you even got laid?"

"Like two and half weeks ago" he says, confident, and still laughing, "Wait wait, when was the last time you got yourself off? I know you're not waiting 8 months!" he giggles and I think I could kill him. I know I kept giving him outs but was it too late for me to just get up and leave?

"I'm not doing this with you if you're just gonna make fun of me Reid, I get enough of that at work" I get out, my voice is serious but I'm trying to hide how awkward all of this is making me feel, and I don't know that I'm doing a very good job.

I can tell that's gotten to him, he relaxes and eases up on the giggling. "Look okay wait Y/N. I'll stop, I'm not actually trying to make fun of you. I was being serious, I think stuff like this is important if we're gonna have to be comfortable around each other enough to seem like a real couple. Plus, it'll just help break the ice?" he shrugs. "But you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

I soften, because I agree, even thought I hate that he's right. "Fine" I collect my thoughts, "2 nights ago I'm pretty sure." I regret it almost instantly, but breaking the ice is supposed to feel awkward.

"Same here actually," he chuckles, "what'd you do?" I'm so startled by the question I almost forget how to answer.

"I, uh, my, my vibrator? I just felt like uh, I watched some..." I still can't force out a whole sentence. It's not like I was always awkward about sex or anything, I could talk to Garcia, or honestly probably any of the other team members about it. But with Spencer it didn't feel as comfortable. He still sat calmly, smiling just a little.

"Same here, 2 nights back, but with my hands I guess. I wonder if we were doing it at the same time?" he mutters the last part gently and my head goes a bit fuzzy. My eyes drift away from his face and settle on his hands, the mug he's holding looks so tiny with his fingers wrapped around it, I wondered how they'd look wrapped around my-

"Okay I think that's enough for one night, don't you think?" I jump up off the sofa and turn, mostly so that he doesn't catch the blush thats creeping from my neck up to my cheeks. And because I don't know what I'll say, or regret saying, if this conversations continues on its current trajectory.

"Sure," he says, standing up next to me, and I want to move further away instantly, "you're probably right, and it's getting a little late now anyway" he glances at his watch. Ushering me back towards his front door and opening it up. Before I can walk out he lightly touches my shoulder to turn me back to face him, and I wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from every part of me.

"So are you free next Friday after work?" he asks, and I'm so flustered I almost forget why, I just nod. "Perfect, how about we come here again and we can dive into preparing? You could also make a start on getting these onto a hard drive?" he gestures to the antique looking hardbacks adorning the shelves.

'Sounds great!" I perk up, feigning enthusiasm, "See you then!"

"Well, see you Monday morning actually Y/N" he smirks as I walk out the door. Fuck, he was right.

I really hadn't thought this through.

——

The weekend was a bit of a blur. I decided to try and put some useful information into a document for Spencer. It felt strange to try and condense my life into as few pages as possible. I knew Reid had an eidetic memory, and nothing would necessarily overwhelm him. But I also knew that he was someone that the team relied on to fill in a lot of the gaps in the rest of the our knowledge. So I felt bad about dumping a load of information on him, especially considering it was a favor he was doing for me.

I'd complied the majority of my life into a 15 page document and printed it out. Hopefully that would address most of what my family could guerrilla attack him with. There was also something unsettling about the imbalance. I was going to give him so many of the intricate details of my life in a little file, whereas all I really knew about Spencer was what I'd taken it upon myself to learn about him throughout the past few years.

I'd read all of his work while I was in college, given how he was the gold standard of getting into the BAU at a young age, I wanted to know who this guy was. I think I'd pictured something different. And I couldn't deny there was something enticing about finally getting to know him after all of these years of working together. Maybe this could actually be fun, or interesting at least.

----

I arrived early on Monday morning. I thought I was first into the office as usual but Garcia was sitting in my desk chair waiting for me. The second she saw me walk in she tensed, she must've known we were the only people in this early.

"What happened! You've been avoiding me all weekend?" she asked, and she was right. I'd drafted enough texts to her, trying to explain what the plan was, mostly without wanting to admit that she was right. Maybe I was stubborn.

"Alright okay, I drove Reid home." I admitted, dropping my bag by my desk. She rolls her eyes at me, dramatic as always.

"Well I knew that already Y/N damn! What happened next?"

"Fine, we went into his apartment and talked for a while. Trying to sort out the details, get a handle on things I guess?" I said, unsure of how much I should actually give away about our conversation.

"What things!?" She shouts, standing up from my desk,

"I don't know Pen, like logistics and stuff, I still haven't decided how I feel about that little stunt you pulled on Friday night!" I let my frustration get the better of me, and maybe that's why I haven't talked to her. It could also be because I know she's able to read me like a book and I'm not even sure how I feel about this whole situation.

"I call bullshit." She counters, "I know you were relived as hell when I sorted that whole thing out. You would've had anxiety tummy all weekend if I hadn't called Spencer!" I just go silent, she was right. I'd gotten so caught up in the whole, 'how to have a fake boyfriend' that I'd almost forgotten about how stressed I was about Spencer hearing my call in the first place.

"Okay, shit" I sigh. "Maybe you were right Pen. We're actually meeting up again this Friday after work to make a plan for the next while, so I guess that's progress?" I shrug, trying to play it off like this whole situation doesn't make my stomach flip.

"Ohhhhh! So like a date?" She probes, her enthusiasm rising drastically.

"Oh my God Pen no! Like an appointment at best" I diffuse the situation

"Ugh that's no fun" she says, not even trying to disguise her disappointment.

As if on cue Dr. Reid walks through the double doors into the bullpen. Both Garcia and I wave, overall awkwardly, but making an attempt pretend like things were completely normal and like nothing had changed since the last time we were all in the office together.

Penelope heads to her office as the bullpen starts to fill up quickly. Less than an hour later though Garcia's back at my desk and there's a new case that needs the teams attention in Boston. I follow her into the conference room and wait for the rest of the team to join. Spencer follows a moment later with 2 cups of coffee in his hands. I can see my mug in his hand and my automatic response is that he's messing with me. But he places my mug in front of me in the circular table before taking the seat next to me, listening to Garcia's briefing. I don't know if he's ever sat next to me in this conference room, at least not by choice.

I barely had any time to finish my coffee before I have to say goodbye to Garcia and hop on the jet to Boston.

----

The case was grueling. More so than usual. It was wrapped up late on Thursday night and the team decided to fly back home first thing on Friday morning. I was exhausted. Even if there was enough time to get sleep each night it wasn't like I got any. Whenever a case got on top of me like this it made it hard to rest, or get it off my mind at all until it was wrapped up. So even though it was over, that didn't mean I wasn't exhausted.

Hotch gave the team the rest of the day off, given that we have until submit our paperwork by Monday. I wasn't sure if Spencer's invitation from the following week still stood. I didn't want to ask, partly because I was so tired, but also because I was scared. I wasn't about to show up at his house in an effort to have a heart to heart, or hand him a condensed version of my life story on a manilla envelope if he was as drained as I was.

Standing by my desk I packed up everything I'd need to get my paperwork done over the weekend, I was just about finished when Spencer snuck up behind me, perching himself on the edge of my desk. "So, you almost ready to go?" he asks, like it's the most obvious question in the world. I couldn't really hide my surprise.

"Oh yeah. That's fine, I mean, if you're still cool with that?" I ask, and I hate how flustered I sound, like he makes me nervous.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" He chuckles, standing up straight.

"Cool, gimme a sec and I'll be good to go."

I pack up the rest of my stuff quickly and we make our way out. There's something that feels a little eerie about the two of us being in an elevator together alone again. It was a different kind of awkward to how it felt a week before hand. It almost felt like a kind of tension rather than a hatred or a rivalry. Either way we rode down in silence.

Once we got to the basement Spencer walks out of the elevator and walks straight to my car without having to ask. I unlock it and he hops into the passenger seat. Like this is a natural interaction. Something we do all the time. And I don't hate it as much as I thought I would.

"So," he says, buckling up his seat belt and breaking the silence, "do you know how to get to my place from here or do you need directions again?"

"Well I've got to turn on the engine first" I tease, hoping he picks up on the reference to our last car ride, he chuckles like he does.

"Are you hungry?" he asks

"Starving."

The delivery guy get's to Spencer's apartment at almost the same time we do.

---

Once the food's been demolished the two of us finally sit on his sofa, the same sides as the week before. "So, shall we get back into this?" He asks, sitting forward slightly to pull a notebook out of his satchel on the floor. It's small and lavender, and it's got a pen clipped into the spine. He cracks it open and flips to a specific page.

"Sorry, what's that?" I ask, pointing to the book, he looks confused,

"They're my notes?" he says, like it should be obvious

"Your notes?" I ask,

"My notes on you." he smirks, again like I'm silly for even asking.

He had notes on me? He had a whole notebook on me? What was even in that thing?

"You've got notes on me?" I ask, my hands reaching out to grab it, but he retreats faster than I can catch him. "What have you got in there that's so serious?"

"Nothing." and his tone's a bit too stern and I don't really want to push it when he's being so uncharacteristically nice to me.

"I've actually got this ready for you" I pull the file out of my own bag and toss it to him. "I'm not sure exactly what you need to know but that should be the majority of it at least."

He opens it up and glances over the the pages. It takes him all of 2 minutes to get through the whole thing. It feels unsettling that he's taking in a boiled down version of my life while I'm just sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. Trying to avoid the attention I pipe up.

"Um, hey, maybe it would be a good time for you to show me where to make a start digitizing your books over here?" I stand up and make my way to the shelf. He jumps up off the sofa and walks toward me, visibly excited.

"That's actually a great idea, I thought that the theses from my degrees could be a good place to start, since I'm pretty sure they're not backed up anywhere." he guides me to a section of the book case by the window. There's a series of leather bound hardbacks, the same gold font embossed on the spines. I recognize all of them, pulling out the first one.

"This is my favorite" I say without thinking about it and he does a double take, clearly thrown.

"You've, uh, you read my work?" he asks, completely puzzled. I'm sort of proud that I've managed to make him this awkward, and I nod.

"Mmhm, back before I joined the BAU actually. Before I really knew you" I regret saying the last part, it comes out a little meaner than I really wanted it to so I back track. "Spencer, I read all of your work while I was in college, you were like the gold standard. I don't think I slept more than 2 hours a night throughout my PHD because I was just trying to get as much done as you." and his face softens at the admission. But it takes him a moment before he responds. Leaving the two of us in silence a little too long.

"I had no idea" is all he says.

"I think this one was best" I say propping up the one in my hand, "you get a bit cockier as you move on” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "but I'll start with all of these I guess" I grab the matching books and stack them in my arms. Walking over to his desk and setting up. Glancing at the clock it was only 7pm so I decided to just make a start.

Spencer didn't contest. Letting me just get settled at his desk, I pull out my laptop and begin work on transcribing the first volume. After a few minutes he silently places a cup of tea down beside me and goes to sit on the sofa. The time rolls in quickly after that, each time I look up at Spencer he's carefully combing through the file I'd given him. Re-reading it and making little markings in his lavender notebook. I'm not really sure what I put in there that was worth making a note on but clearly he was reading between the lines on some things. That little notebook was like a profile of me.

When he seemed like he'd finished writing he pulls out his phone, scrolling through it aimlessly like I'd never seen him do before. It made him look so normal. His eyebrows knit together as he's looking at something on his screen and he stands up. Making his way over to me at the desk and shows me what he was looking at.

"Who's this?" he asks, "This guy you're with?"

I recognize the photo instantly. It's from a few years earlier, Nathan and I on the beach, my head resting on his chest. He'd taken it while we were on vacation celebrating our anniversary. That was about a month before I got into the BAU, I had no idea that was going to be our last anniversary. I gulp down the emotions that it stirs. I'm mostly over the whole thing by now, but looking at old photos like that, photos of happier times, it can still sting.

"That's uh, the boyfriend I was telling you about last week. Nathan, we broke up not long after I joined the BAU?" he nods, but he's smart, and I kind of figure he already knew that.

"Ah alright" he takes out the hardback and jots another note down. Maybe he's trying to get a read on me.

"What are you doing?" I gesture to the phone,

"It's research, do you not think that if you and I were really dating that stalking your social media profiles would be on my agenda?" he's smug, and he's right. But I guess I just didn't expect it from him.

"Well that's not really fair now is it? I can't reciprocate, you've got no social media presence whatsoever!" he finds that funny, letting out a deep chuckle and tucking his phone away in his back pocket.

"Maybe so, but that imbalance is hardly my fault. Besides, you've read all my dissertations apparently..."

"Bastard" I joke, slamming my laptop shut and throwing a pen from his desk at him so that it lightly bounces off the top of his head.

"Hey, there's no need for violence Y/N!" he rubs the spot beneath his curls, "Maybe it's time you took a break actually?" he says, sitting himself back down on the sofa.

I was reluctant to admit it but he was right. My eyes were starting to go a little fuzzy after looking at the screen for so long. I stand up and stretch my arms out above my head, feeling my spine stretch out after sitting for so long, letting out a low groan. Spencer waves me over to the sofa and I join him.

"How about we go back to basics?" Spencer asks with a small grin, and I can't help but let out a long sigh.

"I thought I was taking a break, no more questions" he just laughs at me,

"Relax, you're not that interesting, it's just a simple question." he states, and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to find it funny or offensive

"Ugh, fine, shoot"

"Well, actually it's two questions" he corrects, "what's your favorite movie, and what's your favorite snack?"

I'm confused mostly by the fact that it actually is a simple question, I was expecting something a lot more contentious, but also because he looks eager to know the answer.

"I'm not really sure what my favorite movie is to be honest, one of them is Night of the Living Dead?"

He nods to himself, and jots it down in the notebook again, "Alright, I can make that work" he stands up off the sofa before turning back to me, "and snack?"

"Peanut butter cups I guess?" I respond and he grins ear to ear, which is a completely new sight, and I like it way more than I thought I would.

"Perfect, gimme 2 minutes!" he leaves the living room and wanders towards the kitchen.

Spencer returns a few minutes later with a DVD, a packet of peanut butter cups , and a thick knitted blanket gathered in his arms. He drapes the blanket over me and gently places the peanut butter cups on top of it before popping the DVD into the player and sitting down beside me. I'm not really sure how to process any of the situation. Am I about to watch a movie on Spencer Reid's sofa? Sitting next to Spencer Reid?

"I... I, uh, thought you were just asking for your notes?" I ask, pointing at the notebook resting in his lap. He picks it up and throws it onto the coffee table.

"Sometimes I find experience is the best teacher, don't you?" he asks before pressing play, “And besides, it should keep you quiet for a whole 96 minutes” of course.

I can only nod in agreement, I'm not really sure what I'll say if I try to speak. I get myself cosy under the warm blanket and we watch the movie in near silence.

Once the credits roll Spencer finally speaks up, "I actually went to see a screening of this last month downtown, there was this little old horror movie fest-" I cut him off without really realizing, I'm just strangely excited that we've genuinely got something in common.

"Holy shit, I was there!" I say, more enthusiastic than the situation calls for.

He laughs at my excitement, "Well, I guess we have more overlap than I thought, that should probably help with the whole charade." he stretches his arms up over his head and let's out a small, gentle yawn. I'd been enjoying myself more than I thought I would, or would ever tell Spencer, that I'd almost forgotten that we'd both been on a case for almost every waking moment of the past week. I really should feel a lot more drained than I do.

I was just after midnight when I suggested that I head back home. I offered to take some of the books home to work on throughout the weekend but Spencer insisted that I just work on them whenever I came over again. I sort of felt like I should thank him for the evening when I was on my way out the door, or give him a quick hug, no that felt wrong. In the end all I could really muster was a lousy, "goodnight" and a meek wave on my way out the door before I drove home. And couldn't get to sleep.

— —

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

With you, he wants it all.

Part 2!! You can find all the info about why this is such a mess in Part 1! Also, I totally meant to post this earlier but Taylor Swift’s new album wrecked my plans.

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her.

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader, stalker

Word Count: 9972

The next time you wake up, the room is significantly brighter. You feel around in the cold bed, realizing Spencer isn’t there anymore. You have to force yourself to open your eyes to combat the overwhelming urge to roll over and sleep for another twelve hours. The clock reads 12:07. You can’t help but think you deserve more sleep as you force yourself into a sitting position. Once you finally sit up, you hear someone shuffling around, whispering in the other room. It’s too quiet to try to make out the voice, but you definitely heard something. Without too much thought, you quickly jump out of bed, grabbing the only thing you can find that even remotely resembles a weapon- the bible from the hotel drawer.

Slowly, you push the door open, getting ready to make a break for the door to the hallway at the first sign of danger. Remembering everything from yesterday has you on edge as you move toward the kitchen area, looking for anything out of place. You duck around the pillar separating the kitchen from the living room only to find it empty. As you finally let your guard down, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Without thinking, you turn around getting ready to slam the book into whoever is touching you.

Spencer catches your arms before you hit him. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, dropping the book and hugging Spencer.

“I’m sorry! I just heard a noise and you weren’t in bed anymore and I wasn’t sure where you went and I wanted to make sure nobody else was in the room, but I-“

“It’s okay. Just breathe.” Spencer is rubbing soothing circles on your back as you cling to him as if your life depends on it. A few minutes pass, before you calm down enough to pull out of the hug. You run a shaky hand through your hair, moving to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

“I put the coffee on so you can grab some when it’s done. I’m going to get dressed so we can figure out where we want to go for inspiration today!” You wink at Spencer before heading back into the bedroom to shower and change. You throw on a pair of jeans and a light sweater after squeezing the extra water out of your hair. You like to let it dry naturally on days like this.

You make your way back into the kitchen only to find Spencer has already changed into a navy and white plaid button down, khakis, and a navy cardigan. He is sitting at the table drinking his coffee when you enter the room. You immediately put the kettle on, reaching into the cabinet to pull out your tea collection.

“No coffee for you?” Spencer asks, gesturing to the half full pot on the counter.

“Oh, nope. Not for me. It’s only palatable if I add way to much sugar and then I get all antsy. I only have coffee if I have a really good reason to stay up.” You chuckle as you add the teabag to the mug you set on the counter. You sit on the counter, swinging your legs as you sip your tea.

“So, where do you want to go?”

“For what?” Spencer pretends to not know what you’re talking about.

“It’s time to start writing silly!” You grin at his deer in a headlights expression. “Spencer, I told you not to worry. We are just looking for general ideas right now. Anything that could potentially lead to a song. It’s more fun to observe others during this part of the process because the ideas are less specific.”

“I don’t even know where to start!” He actually seems nervous about this.

“Spence, let’s just go to your favorite coffee shop. And don’t tell me that you don’t have one. You’ve already drunk half that pot of coffee.”

“Why my favorite?” He actually looks taken aback at the suggestion.

“Well, for one because I’m not from here, so I don’t know where to go.” You try to backpedal, but you’ve started a list. Something he is all too eager to point out. “And two?” He’s got his brows furrowed, a look of pure confusion adorning his face.

“If it’s your favorite, then you’ve been there before.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well yes, but your point?” The confusion is still present, but his words are laced with exasperation.

“You might just be comfortable enough in your surroundings to suggest a song idea.” You shrug as you say it, trying to make it feel more casual.

“You considered whether or not I would be comfortable?” He seems genuinely surprised now.

“Of course. I want you to help me, so I gotta butter you up.” You try to cover up your blush with a joke.

“Thank you.” HIs words seem surprised, but the two of you move on. Spencer grabs his satchel, and you your jacket, as the two of you exit the hotel to head to the café. You opt for walking since the weather is not too hot. You don’t say much during the walk. After the moment in the kitchen, you feel a bit nervous. A few fans stop you along the way for a picture or an autograph, but mostly you just enjoy each other’s company. Nobody pays much attention to Spencer, rather opting to ignore him to get your attention. Every time someone comes up to you; you make a point to say excuse me or smile at him before addressing the fans though. You just don’t want him to feel left out or like he’s not important.

You finally make it to the café. Spencer opens the door before guiding you in, again placing his hand on your back. You thank him as you make your way up to the counter to order. You order a chai latte for yourself, gesturing for Spencer to order his when the barista asks you if you need anything else. You make sure to add two scones to the order before sliding your card into the machine before Spencer has a chance.

“It’s my fault you’re here with me, so please. My treat.” He shakes his head slightly, a small smile forming on his face.

“How many times do I have to tell you, none of this is your fault?” He gives you a look as you two move to find a table after accepting the scones.

“I know.” You don’t sound sure as you take your seat. He doubles down the staring as you continue. “I promise. I know. It was just a joke.” You sound more sure of yourself that time, earning another smile from Spencer.

The barista brings you your drinks as you settle into the corner booth. You set your phone up on the table, pulling up the recording from yesterday. You pass Spencer your headphones from your purse so he can listen to what you’ve already come up with.

You take this time to really study him. The sun’s rays are streaming in through the blinds on the window, causing slight shadows to drift across his features. You take in the sharp lines of his jaw as he turns to look around the café, listening to the various melodies and lyrics you sang for the team. His brown locks appear golden as the sunlight reflect off the highlights. He’s sporting a slight stubble from not shaving for a few days. His hazel eyes drift across the faces of everyone in the room, not settling for long on any one person.

You shift your attention to his hands. He has one draped across the table, lightly tapping along as he listens. His long fingers are mesmerizing. You begin to recognize he is tapping out the melodies as if he were playing the piano. The other hand is wrapped around his coffee cup. You bite your lip as you think about all the things those hands are capable of. Your mind wonders as you stare. You are staring so intently at the way his hand grips the cup, you don’t notice when he removes the headphones.

Spencer clears his throat to catch your attention. “That was incredible. How do you come up with ideas so fast?” He looks like he knows exactly what you were thinking, but is too kind to bring it up. He’s just doing his job, and this isn’t a date.

“Oh, um thanks. I guess the BAU is just full of inspiration. The song writing process is a little different every time, but sometimes I can think of random lyrics and melodies.” You try to smile as you force yourself to focus. “Think back to a time where you felt an emotion really strongly. It can be whatever emotion you want. Then, try to put it into words. I like to use common phrases or metaphors because it can be fun to twist it into something new.” You close your eyes as you think back to how you felt the moment you understood there was a man out there killing people because he is obsessed with you. Maybe it’s a little too soon to write that one out. The idea does give you another way to explain it to Spencer. “It’s kind of like therapy. You can talk out your feelings and share them with people. It’s just a bit more public.” Spencer looks like he’s contemplating his entire life as you sit in this coffee shop.

“Spence,” you say it lightly to draw him out of his own thoughts, “don’t worry about it. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. I just wanted to get the ball rolling. Why don’t we try something else?” He looks grateful as he nods. “Great. Pick out someone in the coffee shop, preferably part of a group.” He looks around before his eyes settle on someone.

“Okay, now tell me what they’re thinking about.” He looks confused, like a lost puppy. “It’s called people watching. Just make up a story about what they might be doing here.”

You and Spencer discuss ideas for the next few hours. He picked out a young man, maybe about 19 years old. He was clearly here with friends trying to catch a break from studying if the backpacks on the floor were any hint. Spencer noticed all of that immediately of course, being that he is a profiler.

His story sounded just like the profile Hotch told you yesterday, although much less horrifying.

“White male, late teens to early twenties. He is likely a STEM major. This is the first time he has let loose in a while, normally choosing to forego the party life for studying. He likely has immense pressure on him from his family to succeed and do well in school.” You nod along, not having any idea where this information is really coming from. He sounds so confident, you can’t help but ask how he knows all that.

“You’re incredible. How did you figure all that out?” You stare in wonder at the man across from you. He doesn’t meet your eye, but responds nonetheless.

“His age is fairly obvious to observe. His bag is fuller than the others, indicating a major that requires more coursework. He keeps checking his watch, almost as if he knows he is wasting time that could be spent working toward a goal. The family pressure can be inferred by the other behavior. It is more likely a young adult is studious due to a strict upbringing with a focus on work ethic and goal-driven activities.”

“Amazing.” You sigh as you look around the room. “My turn.” You point to a couple sitting a few tables away from you. “Those two are exploring the possibility of taking their relationship past that of friendship. They obviously like each other and are too nervous to say anything.” Almost as if to prove you aren’t a profiler, the two lean across the table for a kiss. You laugh it off, knowing it’s just a game for you.

“Or maybe not. Either way, their song would be about new love. Something slow and pretty.” You smile as you turn back to Spencer. “Your turn again!”

The two of you go back and forth a few times. His stories were really just profiles, but after a few tries he leaned into the fun, game-like nature of people watching. Of course, his last story didn’t stray too far from profiling, but it was much more dreamlike in the way he presented it.

“The woman sitting by the window,” he said, subtly pointing to an older woman at a table alone, “she’s waiting to see her grandkids for the first time in years. Of course, she’s excited to see them again, but she’s nervous. What if they don’t like her? What if she can’t patch things up with her… I’m guessing daughter?” You smile brightly at the story. Family moments were usually the most inspiring for generic song ideas.

“Good job, Spence! What would the song be about?” The question clearly caught him off guard. For the past few stories, you asked how he came to those conclusions. It was so fascinating to hear how his mind works. This time though, you thought he could really be on to something. You give him an encouraging nod, as you set your phone up to record again.

“It could be about- about family.” He states it so firmly; you know he wants to say more. “She is sitting there thinking about the memories she has with her own parents and grandparents, so the song could be a reflection on days spent enjoying their company. Maybe future memories they can make together.” He smiles, albeit shyly.

“That is a really good idea! It fits with the vibe of the lyrics I came up with for Rossi.” You see the moment it clicks in his head. I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you’re not scared of anything at all. Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today.

He actually seems pleased with himself now. “We could work on that one tomorrow. We should get up and walk around though, we’ve been sitting here for hours.” You reach for his hand as you scoot out of the booth, pulling him along with you.

You stuff your hands in the pockets of your windbreaker as you head outside. You feel an overwhelming desire to be close to him, but you don’t want to overstep. The early evening crowd is out and about, bumping into the two of you as you walk back to the hotel at a leisurely pace.

“Why don’t we go order some room service and just hang out for the rest of the night? All that people watching was exhausting.” You turn to grin up at him as you continue walking. He hums in response, looking down at you in return. You swear you can feel the mood shifting, but the moment is broken by a tap on your arm. You turn to examine the source of the interruption only to find a little girl who couldn’t be more than 10 years old.

“Hi there!” You squeeze Spencer’s arm before ducking down to talk to the little girl. “Are you parents here?” She nods turning to look at a couple a few feet behind her, slightly out of breath, as if they just chased her down the street.

“Carly! Honey, you can’t run off like that! You could have gotten hurt!” The man scolds her, but is clearly relieved she didn’t get away from them.

“Sorry daddy! I just wanted to say hi to Miss Y/N! She sings my favorite song ever!” You wave at the parents before turning your attention back to the little girl.

“Hi Carly, it’s nice to meet you! You really do need to be careful though. You should always stick with the adults so you don’t get lost.” Your voice is playful, but your expression is serious. The only way to truly convey that message to a child you have no parental claim to. She nods in response.

“Mommy! Take a picture!” You pose with the girl as her mom takes a picture.

“We’re so sorry for interrupting your date! She just saw you and took off down the sidewalk.” You blush at what the woman is implying about you and Spencer, not daring to look at him.

“No worries at all. I’m always happy to meet a fan. Have a good night!” You wave goodbye, linking your arm with Spencer’s as you start to walk. He gives you a curious look, but you just laugh before joking “What? It’s so I don’t get lost.” He chuckles at your childlike behavior, but shifts so you can hold him closer.

The rest of the walk is peaceful. You don’t see any more fans, which is good because you aren’t paying enough attention to anything at the moment. You keep picturing the look on Spencer’s face right before the little girl interrupted you. What was about to happen?

Before you know it, you and Spencer are back in the room. He steps into the kitchen to call Hotch while you call to order dinner. You change into the FBI sweatshirt from yesterday and a pair of sleep shorts before settling on the couch to wait for Spencer. A few minutes later, he joins you on the couch after he hangs up. “The team has ruled out all the performers. It’s not surprising as the unsub wouldn’t be brave enough to perform for a crowd. They are still working through the lists of vendors and crew members.”

“Good. That’s progress. Progress is good.” You nod to yourself, trying to convince yourself everything is normal.

“Talk to me, what’s going on inside your head?” Spencer reaches out to take your hand while you stare at the ground.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just hard. It’s hard to have such an amazing day and then think about how it only happened because people are being killed. I guess I feel guilty.” You keep going before he can interrupt you. “I know it’s not my fault that this guy is out there doing horrible things, but I still feel bad for enjoying myself while it’s happening.” You don’t have any tears left to cry. You look over to Spencer to find him staring back at you.

“Y/N, you are such a selfless person. There isn’t anything else you can do right now. We haven’t had any more victims, likely because nobody has posted about how excited they are for your shows since we still have 13 days before the next one. We are going to catch this guy.” You form your mouth into a soft smile before nodding at him. “What movie do you want to watch?”

You smile at his attempt to distract you. “You pick. Anything that will take my mind off things, but not require too much thinking.”

Spencer is racking his brain for a movie that fits your description when you hear a knock on the door. “Must be the food, I’ll get it.” When you return with the food, you find Spencer still thinking over movie choices.

“Okay, how about this. What do you like to watch when you really need a pick me up?”

Again he looks surprised that you would take his opinion into account. “Um, usually Doctor Who, but that’s not a movie it’s a-”

“TV show. Right. Is that the one where they fly around in a telephone booth?”

“First of all, it's a police box, not a phone booth. Second of all, Doctor Who started a quarter of century before Bill and Ted even went on their bodacious adventures. So really, they should just call it Bill and Ted's excellent rip-off, I mean at least then...”

You listen as he rambles about why people always think it’s a telephone booth. You can’t help but smile at how cute he is when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about. You don’t realize he asked you a question until he clears his throat with a confused expression.

“Sorry, I was rambling again.” He looks dejected, and you would do anything in the world to make him smile again.

“No, I’m sorry!” You scoot closer to him to convey your point. “I was listening at first I promise. It’s just, you looked so happy I got distracted. Let’s watch Doctor Who.” You turn to face the TV before you say anything else that makes you feel like a complete moron. He sorts through the food as you find the show online, setting it up to play on the TV. There’s random free episodes on demand, so you end up staring with the 11th doctor.

You are completely captivated by the show. Every so often, Spencer would comment on a theory about what one specific prop could mean only to have you cover your ears and warn him about spoilers. During an episode about creepy angel statues, he goes on a tangent about how Amy could have avoided the whole situation. Once he starts mentioning characters you haven’t met, you actually have to reach your hand up to cover his mouth to get him to stop talking. His words putter to a stop, eyes widening in shock as he stares at you.

“Spence, I absolutely love how passionate you are about Doctor Who. But it doesn’t matter how adorable it is when you ramble on about something. If you spoil one more thing before I can actually watch the whole show through, I will not hesitate to smack you.” You stare right in his eyes the entire time, watching as they widen with each word. You had to get a lot closer to him to actually reach his mouth. He had moved forward, animatedly waving his arms around as he talked about various plot points, so you were basically sitting on his lap to avoid being smacked in the face.

You drop your arm from his face slowly, as if any sudden movement would break the spell you were under. You lean forward, connecting your forehead to his. You take a steadying breath as you close your eyes. Your about to close the gap when his phone rings. Again, the moment is lost. You only move enough so that he can reach into his pocket for his phone. As he answers the call, you shift in his lap to cuddle into his chest.

“Morgan, what do you need?” Maybe you’re imaging it, but he almost sounds the slightest bit annoyed. You can just make out what Morgan is saying on the other end of the phone.

“Calm down, Pretty Boy. We might have a lead, Hotch and Emily are tracking it down now. I’ll meet you at the hotel in the morning to go over it all with you and Y/N.”

“Okay, thanks for the update.” He sounds so normal now, you think you must have imagined the annoyance earlier. He hangs up the phone, tossing it next to him on the couch. He wraps his arms around you before shifting so you’re both laying down.

“Let’s just relax and watch more Doctor Who. Morgan is stopping by in the morning to talk about the case.” You nod in agreement, turning to face the TV. A few episodes later, you and Spencer are drifting in and out of sleep. Neither one of you really wants to interrupt what you’ve got going, instead opting to just fall asleep on the couch.

You hear the faintest knocking noise that pulls you out of your slumber. It takes a few minutes for you to recognize you are on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms. He must have pulled a blanket over the two of you last night after you fell asleep. Before you can get up to evaluate the knocking, the door opens and Morgan comes rushing in. The concern on his face is quickly replaced with a knowing smirk. You blush, jealous that Spencer is somehow still asleep.

“Hi Morgan. Sorry to alarm you. We must have fallen asleep watching TV last night.” At the sound of your voice, Spencer slowly begins to wake up. He smiles sleepily at you before realizing your attention is elsewhere. He practically throws you off the couch in his effort to sit up when he realizes Morgan is in the room.

“Sorry!” Spencer looks at Morgan, then back to you. “I’m so sorry!” You laugh as you stand up.

“Don’t worry about it.” You settle yourself in the chair, gesturing for Morgan to sit next to Spencer now that he isn’t sprawled across the entire sofa anymore. Turning to Morgan, you ask about the case “What did you want to talk about?”

“We have been focused on going through the people who work for the tour. It makes the most sense for them to travel with you, otherwise it would require a lot more planning.” You can feel the nerves growing in your stomach. “Garcia found a name we wanted to run by you.” He hands you a picture before saying the name. “Ryan Moore. He works-“

“On the instrumentals. I know. He usually runs the sound booth during the shows. I don’t know him that well, but we’ve talked a few times.” You think back over your past conversations. “It couldn’t be him.” You are 100% sure he is not the unsub, and the agents don’t fail to notice the conviction in your voice.

“What makes you so sure?” Spencer is flipping through the case file Morgan brought with him. He doesn’t even look up when he asks the question, too focused on memorizing every detail about this man’s life.

“Well, Hotch told me the unsub wouldn’t be able to talk to me right?” You look to Morgan for confirmation.

“Yes. He wouldn’t approach you or seem confident when talking with you if you approached him.” Morgan confirms what you’re thinking.

“Great. So it can’t be him.” You smile to yourself for actually contributing to the case. “Last week, right after the Columbus show, he asked me out. The unsub wouldn’t be brave enough, right?” The utter joy in your voice startles Spencer enough that he finally looks up from the file.

“Alright then. He’s likely not the unsub, but we’ll finish the investigation into him just in case.” Morgan settles back into the chair he’s sitting in, making no move to leave even though the conversation is clearly over. There is an obvious smirk on his face as he looks at Spencer.

“Well, I’m going to make some breakfast, feel free to watch TV or something.” You smile awkwardly at the two men, unsure of why there is suddenly a strange tension in the air. As you move into the kitchen, you connect your phone to your Bluetooth speaker. Listening to music while you cook has always been calming for you. You honestly prefer baking, but eggs and sausage with toast sounds perfect right now. You pull out the ingredients, humming softly as you dance around the kitchen. You can just barely hear that Morgan and Spencer are talking in the other room, but not enough to make out what they are saying. It just sounds a bit more intense the conversation you just had.

You choose to ignore it and give them their privacy instead focusing on cooking. You end up making scrambled eggs the way your mom taught you, by mixing in some chive and onion cream cheese. You pop some English muffins in the oven under the broiler while you place the eggs and sausages in dishes. After turning the music down, you move all the food to the table. You’re about to invite Spencer and Morgan to have some food when you hear their conversation.

“I’m telling you man. She likes you. You should go for it.” Morgan is clearly trying to encourage Spencer, but he won’t hear it.

“Morgan, it’s not like that. It’s probably just transference because I’m here to make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Plus, you saw the smile on her face when she talked about Ryan asking her out. She was beaming.” He sighs, almost wistfully as you consider what he’s saying. Surely you are capable of separating your feelings for him from the situation. Would you like him if you had just run into him on the street? Plus, what does Ryan have to do with this?

You move back to the stove to remove the English muffins before they burn, putting them on a plate as well. Ultimately, you decide to try to straighten out your feelings for Spencer before making a move. You want to be sure. If there is even a shred of doubt in your mind, Spencer will surely be able to see it on your face. Stupid profilers.

Their conversation died down while you were dealing with the muffins, so you walk back to the other side of the room. You mumble out “I made food, you’re both welcome to have some” before returning to the table. You have a lot to think about and the last thing you want to do is lead Spencer on if you aren’t sure. He deserves better than that.

The conversation over breakfast is nice. Nothing too heavy or serious. The three of you are just talking about your lives. Morgan asks you what it’s like to be famous. You ask him and Spencer what it’s like to be in the FBI. You realize just how different your career paths are. The only thing you can relate to is travelling. Neither Spencer nor Morgan have family in the area, but they mention how hard it is for Hotch and JJ.

“That I can understand. The travelling, I mean. Of course, I travel to perform, not to track down killers.” The room is quiet for a few minutes as you think about what to say. Morgan and Reid being profilers know you haven’t finished your thought, so they give you the time to think it over.

“Thank you.” You say it softly, but firmly at the same time. This is the first time you’ve seen either of them look surprised.

“Wh- for what?” It’s Morgan who speaks up. Spencer has a familiar expression on his face. It’s the same look he got when you asked his opinion for coffee shops and movies.

“For everything. For protecting me. For catching bad guys. For giving up so much to do this job. You two, and the rest of your team, you all sacrifice so much to keep people safe. I mean, I’m sure the people you save and the families you give closure to are grateful, and you deserve that. But, you also deserve to have everyone be thankful for what you do. You get into the minds of these people. It must be exhausting to have to think like that all the time. I’m barely dealing with it now and it’s only be on my mind for 2 days! I just can’t even fathom the number of people you have saved, people that you’ve never even met, by doing this. So, thank you. For being strong enough to do it. For being you.”

You spoke every word with every ounce of sincerity you could muster up. You were looking between them as you said it. The shock on Morgan’s face slowly morphed into a small smile. Spencer’s expression didn’t change, but somehow looked more sincere when you were done.

Neither one of them knew what to say. Morgan rose from his chair to pull you into a hug. Patting you on the back, he uttered a soft thank you before saying he should get back to the office to help the rest of the team. You locked the door behind him, turning to see Spencer staring at you from the table.

“Spence? Are you okay?” You were nervous that your impromptu speech made him uncomfortable. He rose from the table, slowly making his way across the room to you.

“I’m, I, I just… that was… thank you. You amaze me.” He barely says the words, practically breathing them into existence. You reach for his hand, squeezing it.

“I meant every single word. Promise.” There is nothing more you want to do than kiss him right now, but all you can hear in your head is Spencer talking about transference. You hug him quickly before pulling back again. Without some distance between the two of you, you won’t be able to control yourself. “Do you want to go to another café today? Or somewhere with a piano so I can finally see you play?”

“We can do what you want today. You let me pick the café and the show yesterday, so it’s only fair.” You grin, knowing exactly where you want to take him.

The two of you get ready in near silence after that. Both of you want to calm down a bit before spending another day together. After you’ve both showered and changed, you drag Spencer down to the SUV. The weather outside is perfect for where you want to go, but the park is just far enough away that you want to drive. You pull up directions on your phone, hiding the address from him. Spencer protests the entire time. He keeps mumbling about how he would know how to get there if you just told him where you were going. Then something about how mobile phones are a distraction, so it would be safer for him to drive anyway.

You just let him ramble on about the many DC streets. Your grip on the wheel tightens when he starts listing off statistics about car accidents.

“More than 38,000 people die every year in crashes on U.S. roadways. The U.S. traffic fatality rate is actually 12.4 deaths per 100,000 inhabitants. An additional 4.4 million are injured seriously enough to require medical attention. Road crashes are the leading cause of death in the U.S. for people aged 1-54.” With every passing word, your knuckles get whiter, your heartbeat gets faster, and your breaths get shorter. Spencer is too caught up in reciting the statistics to realize anything is wrong until he turns to look at you, his next sentence dying on his tongue. “Seatbelts reduce the risk of dying by…” His brow furrows as he takes in your appearance.

“By what Spence? Don’t leave me hanging?” You try to joke with him to calm yourself down, but he obviously sees right through it.

“45%.” He continues before you can even comprehend the number. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m totally fine. 100% A-Okay.” You try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Having arrived at your destination, you pull into a parking spot.

“Y/N, talk to me. What is it?” You take a steadying breath as you turn to face him. Honestly, you are embarrassed more than anything else. You were the one who decided you had to drive.

“Spence, really it’s not a big deal. I just get nervous driving sometimes. I don’t have to do it a lot, and I’ve never felt like I was particularly good at it. It doesn’t matter though, we’re here.” You move to get out of the car, but Spencer reaches across the car to stop you. His face is only inches from yours as the realization dawns on him.

“And I was rambling on about how dangerous driving is.” He says it more to himself than to you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you stop me? I really need to learn how to shut up. I just get so caught up in the statistics-“ “Spencer. I love when you ramble. I’ve already told you how calming it is… normally. I’m fine, I promise. You just have to drive us back to the hotel later. Deal?”

“Deal.” You’re both smiling as you get out of the car to walk around the park you brought him to. He doesn’t ask why you picked this place and you don’t offer up a reason. He’ll figure it out soon enough. You talk about random things from childhood as you lazily stroll through the trees. There’s something so calming about wandering through so many trees when you know you’re in the middle of a bustling city.

Before long, the two of you have crossed the park. A few feet away stands an upright piano in front of a park bench. You glance at Spencer as he looks at the piano, realization gracing his features as he discovers why you chose this particular park. You beckon for him to sit down next to you, asking him to play you a song.

He blushes as you whisper pretty please in his ear. The cherry on top does him in. Soon enough, you are hearing the beginning notes of Bach’s Prelude in C. You just sit and listen, watching his fingers gracefully move above the keys. He’s not the most passionate of piano players. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he moves his hands efficiently across the instrument, as if he really is thinking about the math behind it all. Still, you lose yourself in the music, swaying lightly. You find yourself leaning on his shoulder, closing your eyes as you think about everything you’ve been feeling.

You studied music for a few years when you were young. That’s how you started writing, with lessons to learn to play both the guitar and the piano. You took to the guitar more than the piano, but you remember learning about the emotion behind every classical piece you were taught to play. You can’t help but think back to those lessons as you listen to Spencer. This song is always reaching forward, yearning for the next note. It plays into the idea that life is simple and pure. Even good at times. But there is something lurking just below the surface. It’s weirdly fitting of your current situation, but you choose to just be glad he chose the major over the minor.

You feel the breeze in your hair as Spencer finishes the song. For a few moments, the two of you sit listening to the leaves rustling in the wind. Eventually, you look around the park once it is quiet again. It’s mostly empty given that it’s 2 pm on a Tuesday, so there aren’t many people around to witness this moment. You slip your phone on the piano to record before you take over, playing that all too familiar melody that reminds you of Spencer. Neither of you say anything as you let the music and your emotions guide you through the song. You can tell it’s not perfect, but it just feels right.

After that, you and Spencer brainstorm lyrics for Rossi’s song for another few hours. The park begins to fill up as school lets out and the workday ends. A few fans recognize you, asking for pictures. After a particularly strong gust of wind, Spencer drapes his cardigan over you as you walk back toward the car, both of you blissfully unaware of the figure watching you from behind the trees.

The next few days pass in much the same fashion. Spencer takes calls about the case, trying to narrow down the massive list of crew members on your tour. You and he work on lyrics for Rossi’s song, as well as JJ’s. She’s just so pretty, the words flow right out of you. You can tell Spencer agrees. You believe him as he swears up and down that the two of them are just friends, but you can’t help teasing him just a bit.

“Honestly, it would be weirder if you didn’t think she was pretty. The woman looks as if she were sculpted by Michelangelo himself. A living embodiment of Aphrodite.” He nods in agreement, a faint blush on his cheeks.

No matter how much you try, you just cannot come up with anymore good lyrics for Spencer’s song. It could be that he is sitting right next to you all the time and knows the song is for him that’s causing the writer’s block, but it’s still frustrating.

One night, he’s working through the case file for the third time in a row when you interrupt his thoughts with a seemingly random question.

“Spence, can you tell me a story?” He looks up at you, brow furrowed and eyes confused. “I just need inspiration for the lyrics. Everything I come up with sucks.” You pout until he finally gives in. “Yay! It can be anything, even a memory. Just make it overwhelmingly happy.”

Spencer stops looking through the file as he thinks back on his life experiences for an overwhelmingly happy memory. The faces of his team members instantly flood his mind as he sorts through the many good times they’ve had. He keeps circling back to one event, ultimately deciding it is happy enough to fit your standards.

“This is actually the story of JJ’s wedding.” You lean forward, a wedding story could be just what the doctor ordered. “Will wanted to marry her for a while, but she was hesitant. She said everything was perfect as it was, she didn’t feel the need to change anything.” You were honestly a little confused as to where the happiness was at this point, but you let him continue anyway. You could listen to this man talk for days on end without complaint.

“We ended up working a case with Will. It was a bank robbery turned hostage situation. It was a rough case for all of us; bombs, secret partners, kids at risk. I won’t bore you with the details,” he chuckles at your thankful expression, “but it all worked out in the end. Will, he could’ve died. When JJ went to see him in the hospital, she told him to ask her again. She wanted to get married then and there in the hospital chapel. Will wanted to wait until he was actually out of the hospital though, and not wearing a hospital gown.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of loving someone so much, you were instantly ready to marry them.

“Rossi, he overheard everything. So, he started planning. He called JJ’s mom, told her to fly in and to bring her wedding dress. We threw her a surprise wedding the next day. It was such a beautiful moment, to have such a joyous event after everything that we had been through. JJ looked wonderstruck as her mom walked her down the aisle. The lights were sparkling. It was enchanting.” He spoke with such awe about the whole event. He told you stories about doing magic for Henry and Jack, who you came to know as Hotch’s son. It was so easy for you to picture the fairy lights and purple flowers. The team seemed like such a close-knit family, it only made sense that they would share this memory.

The chorus of the song hit you like a ton of bricks. You didn’t even warn Spencer as you jumped from the couch and ran to the piano. He followed behind you, curious to see what would happen. He watched with wonder as you placed your phone to record on top of the piano and started playing the family melody you first hummed while thinking about him.

“This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go. I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew, I was enchanted to meet you.” The verses didn’t pour out of you in quite the same way, but the general storyline of the song came to you in the next few minutes. You rushed to get it all out, speaking directly into the phone.

“The first verse can be about feeling out of place in a room, faking laughter, forcing smiles. Then it all changes when she sees him. It’s as if they have a conversation with only their eyes as they float across the room to each other. Then the chorus. The second verse can be about her wondering if he felt it to. 2 am who do you love? Chorus again. Then the bridge can be about hoping that the one night wasn’t it for them. That she’ll see him again and hoping he isn’t already in love or with someone.” You’re so pleased with the song idea, you don’t notice the shifting expressions on Spencer’s face. After your explanation, you turn to him, the biggest smile he’s seen yet on your face.

“What do you think?” He’s so shocked he doesn’t know how to respond. After a moment of silence, your face begins to fall. You can’t stop your brain from thinking the worst.

He must hate it. Oh god, he’s just trying to find a way to let me down easy. Why do I have to be so stupid? Sure, go ahead. Write a love song about the man who’s sitting next to you. That won’t be weird at all. Oh god, oh god…

Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you into a tight hug. “It’s beautiful. It will make a wonderful song.” He’s whispering in your ear. The feeling of his lips brushing against you is too much. Everything you’ve been pushing back for the past few days comes roaring to the surface. You can’t stop yourself.

You pull back slowly, only to pull his face to yours so rapidly you’re surprised you didn’t get whiplash. In less than an instant, his lips are moving gracefully against yours. His hands slide down your body to your waist as he pulls you even closer to him. Your arms move up around his neck, your fingers running through his hair. The hunger and passion is slowly taken over by the need for oxygen, the two of you separating just enough to pull air into your lungs.

He kisses your forehead, and you kiss his nose. A few minutes later, and you’re still standing there with your heads pressed together, arms wrapped around each other. Every so often, one of you places a light kiss on the others mouth, just to make sure this is real.

“I know what you’re thinking.” You are still out of breath from kissing him, but you can just tell his mind is moving a mile a minute.

“I’m not sure you do.” He sounds nervous.

“I think I might surprise you.” You can’t help but tease him a little before continuing. “You think its all transference. That I only think I like you because you’re here to protect me. Some sort of white knight bullshit.” You can’t stop yourself from sounding mildly annoyed about it. Although, the look of shock on his face helps. “I heard what you said to Morgan.” He sighs before moving to pull back.

“No, Spence. Listen to me. I heard what you said to Morgan.” You wait for him to follow your train of thought back a few days.

“But that was four days ago?” He looks more confused than ever.

“I know. I wanted to make sure that what I feel is real. I didn’t want to lead you on if I might not actually want this. But I do. More than I’ve ever wanted anything before. Spencer, you are a light in my life and not just because you’re here to make sure I don’t get murdered. Although that certainly doesn’t hurt. I feel like I can tell you anything and you won’t judge me for it. That I can truly be myself without worry of letting you down.”

“Y/N you could never let me down. I just don’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything. I don’t want you to regret me.” He looks crestfallen.

“Spencer Reid.” You move your hands to his cheeks to gently push his head up to make eye contact. “I could never regret a single moment spent with you. I have loved every single one. I loved watching you listen to the songs about your friends. I loved listening to you talk about things you love, like Doctor Who and statistics. I loved sitting next to while you played piano. I loved talking to you about anything and everything. Spencer, I love how I feel when I’m with you and I know for a fact I would feel the same way if I met you walking down the street.”

“Y/N” the way he says your name is music to your ears. “I love how I feel when I’m with you too. I loved listening to you sing about my friends, capturing the essence of who they are. I loved watching you experience the things I have grown so accustomed to doing. I loved the feeling of you leaning on my shoulder while I played Bach. I loved hearing you come up with an entire storyline for one song in a matter of minutes just based on one story. I have loved every single second I have been with you since I first saw you 7 days, 2 hours, and 32 minutes ago. Even if I didn’t say a word to you until after you woke up in the hospital.”

The two of you laugh as you pull him to the couch to cuddle. You put on more Doctor Who, sitting with your legs across his lap and playing with his hands. It’s nice to just be close to him without having to worry. You find yourself getting wrapped up in the show. Spencer is quieter this time. You think he might have something on his mind, but you decide to wait for him to share. Between the third and fourth episode, he speaks up.

“Y/N, are you and Ryan… are you together?” You look up to see a nervous expression once again on his face.

“Ryan who?” You are genuinely confused as to who he could even be talking about.

“Ryan Moore, the sound booth guy.” You look even more confused than before.

“Not even a little bit. I politely declined his offer to take me out. Is that what’s been bugging you for the last three episodes?” You smile at his pout.

“Maybe. You just seemed so happy when you mentioned that he asked you out. You were practically glowing with how big your smile was.”

“Spence, I was happy because I could actually help you with the case. I only have eyes for one guy.” You shift to straddle his lap.

“Yeah, who’s that?” He pulls you even closer.

“Matt Smith” You say it with the best deadpan expression you can manage in the circumstances.

“Wow, your standards must be pretty low to settle for the 11th doctor. He’s not even in the top three best doctors!” He plays along with your joke, although he doesn’t have to act incredulous sat you preference for the 11th doctor.

“Well, my number one doctor isn’t really on TV.” You bite your lip, leaning in until you connect your mouth to his.

Right as you’re both about to take it one step further, your phone rings. “Fuck.” The word is barely a whisper leaving your mouth as you pull back from Spencer trying to catch your breath.

“Hello?” you don’t hear anything on the other end of the phone. “Hello? Anyone there? Hello?” Suddenly the line goes dead. You turn to Spencer. “Well, that was weird.” Spencer frantically moves you off his lap as he stands up, taking out his phone. Without telling you anything, he is frantically dialing a number, mumbling under his breath.

“Garcia! I need to you to figure out who just called Y/N’s phone.” He waits a minute, presumably listening to her reply. “Yes, it just rang and when she answered nobody said anything. Thank you.” He hangs up, swiftly moving back to the couch to pull you into a hug.

“What just happened?” You can feel your heartrate speeding up.

“It might be nothing, but that might have been the unsub. Garcia is tracking down the number that made the call right now. If it’s possible to figure out, she’ll have it done by morning.” He rubs calming circles on your hip with his thumb. “Why don’t you go to sleep? Try to get some rest?” You nod, rising from the couch.

“Spence, will you lay with me?” Your voice is small and scared as you ask the question. He simply nods, both of you changing into pajamas before meeting in the bedroom to lay down. You snuggle up close to him, trying to breathe in the same pattern as him until you fall asleep.

When you wake up, you can hear Spencer in the living room, talking on his phone. You want nothing more than to go back to sleep, but not if you can’t cuddle with Spencer while you do it. Throwing the covers off of you, you get up so you can actually see Spencer. He’s got his back to you when you open the door, so you sneak up behind him. He jumps a little with a surprised gasp when you wrap your arms around his middle.

“What? Oh, uh… I’m fi-fine. Everything’s fine. I was just surprised.” He spins around to hug you, giving you a slight glare. “By, um, a beetle. Yeah, there was a beetle.” The lie is so obvious you can’t help but laugh as you bury your head into his chest.

A few minutes later, he finally hangs up. “What did they find out about the phone call?” You mumble the question into the fabric of his cardigan.

“Less than we were hoping for. It was a prepaid cell, so Garcia can’t trace it back to the owner.” You squeeze him tighter, glad to have him with you through all of this. After a few minutes of standing with him, you reluctantly pull back.

“Well, we should get to work. These songs are not going to write themselves!”

You and Spencer retreat to different parts of the suite to get ready for the day. As much as you would love to jump his bones, it doesn’t feel right to take up his time with that when he could be working. At least if you were working on songs together it was part of the cover.

You ultimately decide to just sit in the park across from the hotel today. Normally, you wouldn’t even leave your room at this point in the writing process. You just don’t completely trust yourself to be alone with him at the moment. At least in public you can control yourself a little bit. Yet, the many people walking around the park do nothing to stop you from grabbing Spencer’s hand and playing with his fingers while thinking particularly hard about a certain lyric.

A bright flash of light draws you out of your reverie. You already know how the picture is going to look. You are laying across a blanket, knees in the air. Spencer is sitting beside you, reading messages from the team on his phone. His other hand is still between yours as you run your fingers over his knuckles. You are absolutely sure there is look of complete adoration on your face. You can’t bring yourself to care that the paparazzi took the picture. You have nothing to hide.

After the shock of the bright light fades, you notice a familiar face behind the few photographers in front of you. The shock of seeing someone for a second time floods your brain while you try to remember the profile Hotch told you that very first night. Without thinking too hard, you fling yourself into a sitting position. You gather everything you brought with you to the park, dragging Spencer along with you. He clearly doesn’t understand the shift in your behavior, but he’d gladly follow you anywhere.

It’s not until you reach your room that you look at him. He can see the fear in your eyes before you even open your mouth. “Baby, what is it? What happened?” He begins recalling everything from the moment the first flash went off, trying to figure out what made you so scared.

“I saw him.” You can barely hear yourself over the sound of your heart beating in your chest. “I saw the unsub. I mean, I think I did. He held the door open for us this morning when we left the hotel, and then he was in the park when the paparazzi were taking pictures. Hotch… he said to tell you if I saw anyone more than once in a day.” The words escape your lips in a hurry, trying to keep up with your flying thoughts.

“Okay, breathe. I’m right here. I’m going to call the team. Did you recognize him from anywhere else?” You try to picture the face in your mind, and suddenly you are seeing him everywhere. In the coffee shop that very first day. Behind the trees in the park with the piano. If you and Spencer were there, so was he. Just, normally you only caught a glimpse of him for a second. Definitely not twice in one day.

You rush to tell Spencer what you’re remembering. At this point, you don’t even know if it’s true. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. Just filling in this man’s face on other people’s bodies to fit the story that he is the one behind it all. Nonetheless, you give him the description of who you saw. White, probably 35ish, brown hair. You didn’t see his eyes, but they looked evil. The expression on his face just screamed serial killer. Maybe that’s in your head too. Who knows?

“I know I’ve seen that face before, I just can’t remember where. God, I’m useless. This man is hurting people and I can’t even remember where I’ve seen him before. Think. Think. THINK.” You’ve started pacing the room, trying to figure out who it could be. Spencer doesn’t say anything else to you until he’s finished the phone call. Even then, he’s more so humming and shushing you than really talking. He pulls you into a hug, trying to calm you down yet again.

“Y/N. You are anything but useless. You noticed he was there. That’s a step in the right direction. We are going to find him, and he is going to go to jail for a very long time.” Somewhere, deep inside, you knew Spencer couldn’t guarantee that, but you also knew it was better for you to listen to him than to force yourself down a rabbit hole you couldn’t dig yourself out of.

A few calming breaths later, and your asleep on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms.

It’s still dark when you open your eyes. You can hear someone moving around, but it’s too dark to see. Spencer isn’t with you on the couch, so it could be him, but something feels wrong. Why would Spencer be up in the middle of the night wandering around in the dark?

“Spencer?” Everything goes still at the sound of your voice. Yeah, that was not the best move you could’ve made… Before you can say anything else, you are knocked out cold. The sound of a lamp smashing over your head is that last thing you hear.

tag list:

@mac99martin , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @spencerhotchner , @girloncorneliastreet , @itsametaphorbriansblog , @moonshinerbynight , @meowiemari , @justanotherfangirl , @im-so-wonderstruck , @eevee0722 , @raining13lemonade @dilaudidwinchester , @silverdagger69 , @thatsonezesty13

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid one shot #Criminal Minds #spencer reid x you

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nebulousnajm · 3 years

Text

whose child is this? - levihan crackfic

Levi heads to his room to grab a document from his desk, but all thoughts of bureaucracy and paperwork fly out of the window as he finds a baby sitting and blabbering to itself on his bed. The baby looks up at him in the doorway and exclaims “papa!” upon seeing him.

He frowns. Very few of the survey corps have children, and so he’s familiar with how those look like. This brunette child is not one of them, “whose brat are you?” he asks, as if it is capable of answering him.

Did a governor or someone from the inner walls visit? It’s probably someone’s child that wandered off. He sighs, closes the door, and goes to ask the guards stationed at the headquarter doors about any recent visitors. The answer is “no sir, only the supply carts have come today,” he nods in thanks and deliberates on what to do.

On his way back to his room, Levi passes by Hange’s lab. He can hear them sorting through their books, probably looking for some obscure fact to back up a working theory. He knows that Hange is friendly and on talking terms with all of the staff, so they may recognize the tiny intruder.

(continued after the cut)

He knocks –to announce his presence– and enters the room. He finds Hange scanning a book with one hand and jotting down notes every other second with the other, all the while muttering to themselves. For a split second there’s something comforting about the sight; about seeing them be at some level of peace doing something they love. But he pushes the thought away into the forbidden corner in his mind where all similarly sentimental thoughts go.

“Hey four-eyes,”

Hange looks up, “hm? oh hey Levi! i didn’t hear you coming in”

“I’m not surprised. Anyways, did one of the supply staff have a brat recently?”

They look thoughtful, “..no i don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

It’s an expected question; he’s never expressed an interest in the detailed lives of the staff, but given his current predicament, he’s sort of forced to know more.

Levi also realizes that there’s no way to explain the situation in a way that will make sense, but then again, Hange has never needed things to make sense to take them seriously.

“There’s a... baby in my room, and i don’t know whose it is,” he looks away and doesn’t mention that said baby thought he was it’s father.

“What?!”

“I don’t know! Why do you think i’m asking you?”

He must look visibly flustered because Hange laughs and puts down their book, “alright, maybe if i see this mysterious baby i’ll recognize it,” they get up and –presumably– head to his room. He spares a glance at the lab before he follows; it’ll need a dusting soon.

Once he catches up to them, they ask, “what does it look like?”

“Brown hair and grey eyes, you’ll see for yourself,”

“Grey eyes huh? I don’t think I know of anyone who has a grey-eyed baby,”

Levi wearily hopes that Hange unlocks that memory once they see it; this whole situation is starting to take a lot longer than he’d like it to.

They reach his room and find the baby looking around in wonder at its surroundings. It’s quiet. He remembers that this is unusual for babies but doesn’t know what to do with that piece of information.

Hange giggles as they approach the tiny creature on the bed, “who are you, you little cutie?”

The baby raises its arms and says “mama!”

Hange complies with the request and lets it wrap its small arms around their neck and rest it’s head on their shoulder.

“I’m not your mother though,” a small pause as they notice something on the baby, “aww you have a book with you?”

It does? Levi hadn’t seen if it had something in its hands, but going off of the small yellow cardboard square it’s holding, it apparently does. He plucks the item from its hands, and reads the title out loud, “The Bumblebee and The Tulip”. The script on the cover is legible but strange.

Hange smiles, “it’s been ages since i’ve seen a children’s book, I’ve only ever found them in Sina,” they glance back at the baby, “so you’re a rich kid, huh?”

“Doesn’t look like one though. No fancy hair clips or jacket. Not even expensive shoes,”

They hum thoughtfully, “true. What a strange little specimen,” they take a look at the baby’s clothes, “speaking of strange, these clothes are weird too. Simpler yet somehow more complicated than usual,”

Well. This isn’t going great, “I don’t think there’s anything “usual” left in this situation,”

The baby, which has been sitting contentedly in Hange’s arms this entire time, now reaches towards him and says, “papa,”

He narrows his eyes at it, “why does it think we’re it’s parents? And can it only say those two words?”

Hange laughs a little, “I don’t know, but babies can only say so much. Do you know how to hold one?”

The answer must be on his face because they just continue, “you basically have them sit on your arm, and you support their neck or back with a hand as well, here try it,” and they offer the baby to him.

“I think i’ll drop it if I try to carry it,”

“You won’t, this one’s quite light so you’ll be able to handle it,”

Levi shoots them an unimpressed look but hold out his arms anyway. Hange hands the small thing over to him and arranges his arms so that they look like how Hange’s did. He’s still a little worried that he’ll accidentally hurt the child even as it just sits there and stares at him with strangely familiar grey eyes.

Hange tilts their head to the side and smiles, “you look kind of adorable together,”

He glares at them with no real heat, “no we don’t”

“It’s true! You know what? Actually..” but they trail off.

That’s weird. Hange never keeps an observation to themselves, “what is it?”

They look kind of sheepish, “okay, well, it’s ridiculous, but the baby does look a little like both of us,”

“What,”

“I know it’s impossible, but it has your eyes and it’s nose looks like what mine did when i was that age,”

Levi looks back at the baby and a weird feeling blooms in his chest. Hange’s observation explains why the eyes were familiar; he’s seen them everyday in the mirror. He also notes that even the baby’s hair is of a very similar shade to Hange’s, but that doesn’t mean anything; brown hair is very common.

“Right, well. This brat might look like us but that doesn’t mean shit. It’s not our child and we don’t know whose it actually is,”

Hange sighs, “I’m sure we’ll find it’s parents once we ask around, but it is confusing. You said you just found it on your bed?”

“Yeah,”

“No disturbance around it? Any footprints or signs that the window was open or anything?”

“I wasn’t really focusing on that when I found it,” but he does take stock of his room now and notes that nothing seems out of place; as if the child simply manifested into existence.

Just as they’re contemplating on who to ask, they hear voices. But not from the hallway.

The sound of two voices in conversation came from the wall to the left, the one that has no door or window and just connects to more stone. Yet it sounds like someone is coming from there as if through a hallway.

Levi and Hange glance at each other, “Levi do you have a secret corridor attached to your room?”

“No. why would I-“ but he stops short as the voices become clearer.

Because if this entire thing wasn’t weird as fuck already, it’s their voices that are coming closer, and he starts to be able to pick out the conversation:

“Four-eyes i swear to god if our child is in the universe of the cannibal-murder-giants,” that’s his voice. What the fuck. To make matters worse, the baby he’s holding turns towards the voice with excitement.

Someone, no, Hange laughs. That’s their laugh, but Hange is standing right next to him staring wide-eyed at the wall.

“There’s nothing to worry about! the drop range I set for here is limited to only the building where our parallels work at, so Kora should be safe. what I’m really hoping for is to find her alon-“

Two people materialize as they step out of the wall, and freeze upon seeing them.

Two people, may he add, that look and sound exactly like them.

A very thick silence suffocates the air, and it’s only broken when the baby squirms in his hold, reaches out towards the other two and says “mama! papa!”

The other Hange awkwardly waves at the child while the other Levi simply says “shit,”

Other-Hange tries to smile, “uh hi. can we have our child back, please?”

“your child?” the real Hange chokes out.

“Yes, she accidentally wandered here while we weren’t paying attention,” other-Hange replies as if answering a normal inquiry about the weather.

This other-Hange approaches him with their arms out to receive the child and he instinctively steps back. The other-Levi laughs, “we’re not gonna bite,”

His own hold on the baby isn’t going to last while she’s trying to jump into her mother’s arms, so he tentatively hands her and her book over lest he drops both.

He notes that other-Hange wears a wedding ring, and when he glances over to his apparent twin, he’s wearing a matching one too. Great.

“You just caused a huge mess, you know that Kora?” the other-Hange tells the baby with a fond smile.

Kora simply laughs in response.

Levi’s fairly sure that his brain short-circuited, because he asks “who are you?”

“Damn I didn’t think I would be this stupid” other-Levi says.

other-Hange laughs a little, “hey be nice! you weren’t the brightest bulb when you learned of this either,”

“Yeah whatever, we gotta head back anyway before we break this universe,”

“Right. Well, it was interesting meeting you two. Try to convince yourselves that this was some weird fever or lucid dream, things will go smoother that way,”

And with that, both Others turn back to phase through the stone wall they came from. Kora waves at them both as she disappears without a trace, just like how she appeared in the first place.

It might have been minutes or hours that Levi and Hange just stood there gaping at the wall, but eventually he says “what the fuck?”

“I have so many questions. I’m going to be thinking about this for the rest of my life,” Hange says as they sink down to sit on the floor.

Levi joins them and thinks that maybe one of the new recruits snuck something into the tea.

–––––––––––––

thanks for reading!

this fic can also be found on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31065770

please don’t repost or upload on another site :)

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lets-go-steal-a-hardison · 3 years

Text

Good Days and Bad Ones

New Leverage ot3 fic! Warning for gun violence and gun wounds. Fluff then angst then fluff again. ~2.9k words | Teen

Can read below or on my ao3 account here.

It had been a good day. Eliot should have known not to trust that, but lately, he had been having a lot of good days. The worst part was that what happened wasn’t even on a job. They didn’t even see it coming.

Eliot had woken up surrounded by his partners. The fact that he couldn’t move from being so entangled in their arms and legs should have felt suffocating, but instead, it just felt safe. He started to move around, wanting to get up and go start his morning routine, and Hardison nuzzled into his neck.

“C’mon man, I gotta get up,” Eliot whispered to him.

Hardison grunted, still mostly asleep, then kissed where he had just nuzzled. He did relax his arms though.

Okay. One down. One more to go.

Eliot turned to look at Parker and saw she was awake, already looking at him.

“I gotta get up, sweetheart, you gonna let me?” he said with a small smile.

Parker was wrapped around his arm with a leg thrown over him. She pouted a bit, then kissed his shoulder before letting him go.

“Thanks, darlin’. I’ll make pancakes later, kay?”

Parker grinned at him. “With whipped cream?”

“Only if I can add blueberries,” Eliot bargained as he got up and pulled on a shirt. He had to get her to eat fruit somehow.

“Fiiiiiine,” Parker said, moving into the warmed spot Eliot had just vacated and wrapping around Hardison, who octopused onto her the moment she was in arm’s reach.

Eliot took a moment to stare at them. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe that they chose to love him. Change with him. It was humbling, their love for him.

He was one lucky bastard.

Eliot did his morning workout, then showered. By the time that he was going into the bedroom to get clothes, towel around his waist, Parker was up. She took off Hardison’s old shirt, which she had been using as a pajama shirt, and kissed Eliot one more time before taking the next shift in the shower. Hardison was still passed out on the bed, but as Eliot walked in, he started to stir.

Letting the towel slip off, Eliot bent over to pull on underwear and heard an appreciative rumble from Hardison. It took a while for him to be coherent in the morning, unless he had stayed up all night. That caused a different kind of incoherence.

Eliot grinned at him from over his shoulder as he continued to get dressed. “You snooze, you lose,” he teased.

Hardison let out a sleepy groan, then made grabby hands towards Eliot.

“Hell nah, I’ve got to get started on Parker’s pancakes,” Eliot said, already walking forward anyway.

“Mmmmm… pancakes,” Hardison hummed as he pulled Eliot in. Eliot could feel his boyfriend’s smile against his lips. He pulled back and kissed him once more, on the forehead this time, and moved away.

“They’ll be ready in a bit, you just gotta be up for them!” Eliot called as he walked out of the bedroom.

It was a good morning.

It didn’t last.

___________________________________

The first gunshot rang out at 1:12 pm. Eliot knew because in the moment, everything froze and he took in everything in the kitchen of the brewpub, including the time.

The screams came next.

Eliot immediately put himself in between the doors to the kitchen and the waitstaff and cooks. “Run. If you can’t run, hide. If you can’t hide, fight. GO!” he said, jerking his head to the back entrance, hoping he wasn’t sending them into a trap.

“ALEC HARDISON!” a voice roared. “COME OUT, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.”

Eliot felt himself move before he had really thought about it. He cut across the kitchen and made his way quickly but effectively towards the living part of the brewpub, where he had left Hardison and Parker at their dining room table.

Too late.

Hardison came out of the back room with his hands up and Eliot redirected his attention to the rest of the room, immediately assessing the three men with guns in the middle of the room. The patrons of the brewpub were cowering in their seats and on the floor. There was one man by the door too, covering the exit.

It didn’t look good.

“Sinclair,” Hardison drawled. If Eliot didn’t know Hardison as well as he did, he wouldn’t be able to tell how tense he was. He kept it hidden in the flex of his back muscles and his hands.

It was a very distinctive flex.

“Haven’t seen you in years. How you been, man?” Hardison continued, arms still raised.

“Well, prison is a bitch and those anger management classes just didn’t take. So, here we are,” the man in the front, Sinclair, said as he waved the hand not holding his gun to take in the scene.

“What do you want?” Hardison asked, his face and voice becoming serious.

“Need your help with a job.”

“And you thought coming in guns blazing into my day job was the best way to ask?” Hardison asked derisively.

Sinclair smiled grimly. “This isn’t asking. Either you will help me or I will shoot you where you stand.”

Hardison shrugged. “I’ve got my own crew and while they don’t mind me working freelance, I think they would object to the job conditions.”

“You’re damn right,” Eliot growled, moving into the room.

“Oh hell no,” the guy who was guarding the door said. “You didn’t say Eliot fucking Spencer was part of the target’s crew. I’m out.”

He threw open the door and ran out the brewpub.

One down, three to go.

The other two men shifted nervously as Eliot stared them down, looking between them and the man Hardison had called Sinclair. Eliot didn’t like how steady Sinclair’s aim was at Hardison.

“Fellas. Now we can either have y’all walk out of here alive, or there’s gonna be a need for body bags. Which is it gonna be?” Eliot said.

The two men glanced at each other. One shook his head, but the other one started sliding towards the door.

“Don’t you dare, Clancy, don’t you dare!” Sinclair shouted.

“Man, I got a baby at home. I just needed the payout, but she needs me more,” the man, Clancy, said. He turned and was out the door.

Two on two.

Eliot liked those odds.

“You sure you won’t help?” Sinclair asked, and Eliot started edging towards Hardison, ready to move if he needed.

Suddenly, Sinclair’s gun was pointed at Eliot.

“Not even if I threaten to shoot your buddy here?”

“Whoa. Now, hey man, you didn’t have to go there. We had our moment, I said no, and you just had to keep pressing. They always keep pressing, don’t they, Eliot?”

“Hardison…” Eliot cautioned, cause he knew what Hardison was doing. He was trying to get himself back in Sinclair’s crosshairs, even though Eliot was much more comfortable being the one with the gun pointed at him.

“Nah, man, I know you’re doing your macho shit right now, and I for one do not appreciate it. You are trying to kill him just with your glarey eyes and guess what, man? Doesn’t work. I know, cause otherwise I would be at least slightly damaged by now.”

“Oh my God, shut UP!” Sinclair said.

He turned.

Eliot jumped.

And Hardison gasped as the bullet hit his shoulder.

Sinclair watched as Hardison stared disbelievingly down at the bloom of blood on his shoulder. He took a gasping breath of air, then his knees went out.

Eliot caught him before he could hit the ground.

“Put pressure on it, Alec. Come on, you know the deal,” Eliot encouraged, pressing down himself. He could sense Sinclair in his peripheral vision, but Hardison was his priority.

“It’s d-d-different wh-when it’s you,” Hardison stuttered.

He was going into shock. Eliot needed to finish this so that they could get Chicken Parm down here, get him to help Hardison.

Eliot forced himself to take his attention off of Hardison and place it firmly on Sinclair.

He looked disconcerted at the look on Eliot’s face.

Good.

“You lost your chance to walk away when you pulled that trigger,” he said to Sinclair. He turned to the last man standing, who flinched when their eyes met. “Last chance for you.”

The man nodded. Dropped his gun. Walked out.

“You fucker!” Sinclair said, sighting his gun on Eliot.

Only for Parker to drop down from the ceiling, right on top of him.

The gun still went off, but Eliot was unscathed. He rushed forward, diving on top of Sinclair who fought tooth and nail to keep his gun in his hands. Eliot saw Parker crawl across the floor towards the gun the last man had dropped out of the corner of his eyes.

In the moment of distraction, Sinclair’s finger found the trigger and pulled.

Eliot felt the bright burn of the bullet going into his hip, but he just grunted and pulled back a fist, bringing it crashing down onto Sinclair’s temple.

He went limp.

Eliot forced himself to stand. He turned and Parker nodded to him from where she was standing, gun pointed at Sinclair.

“I’ve got him, you get Alec,” she said.

Eliot nodded. He pulled out his phone as he went over to Hardison and put pressure on his wound, making Alec whine, high and full of pain.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, gotta keep pressure on it. Help’s coming, Alec, just hang on, kay?” he murmured as the phone rang.

“P-parker okay?” Hardison whispered.

“Yeah, she’s-” Eliot glanced over to Parker and froze. “Parker.”

She looked at him from keeping an eye on Sinclair. “What?”

“Your leg.”

She followed Eliot's gaze and looked down to her thigh. The right leg of her sweatpants - actually Eliot was pretty sure those had been his as some point - was soaked with blood.

She looked back at Eliot. “Huh.”

Then she collapsed.

“SHIT!” Eliot shouted.

“Hello?”

Eliot remembered the phone in his hand. His head was swimming and he blinked repeatedly to clear it. “Parm, altercation at the brewpub. Three GSW’s, Hardison n’ Parker are down. You need to- to… aw, hell,” he slurred.

Then he fell forward onto Hardison’s chest and the world went black.

_________________________________

Dragging himself out of inky black unconsciousness was one of Eliot’s least favorite things in the world. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it sucked.

He was definitely on drugs, cause his brain took way too long to connect to his body. He was floating a bit even when he realized who he was and started registering his body and surroundings.

He was definitely in a hospital. The smell, the sounds of the intercom, and the feeling of an IV in his hand were too distinct for him to be anywhere else.

Eliot wasn’t as bad as Nate, but he still wasn’t a fan of hospitals. The catheter alone was enough to make him wanna punch someone.

Forcing his eyes open, he looked around the room. There was an empty bed next to him and no one else in the room. He wanted to jump up and find Hardison and Parker, find out if they were alright, but the ache in his hip made him grimace as he sat up.

He settled for hitting the call button.

“Hello, Mr. Dubois, how are you feeling?” the nurse who came in asked.

“Sore and floaty. Can we reduce the meds? I hate this feeling. Rather have the pain,” Eliot said.

The woman pursed her lips. “We can, though I will ask you to start taking tylenol in its place, so you still have something in your system.”

Eliot nodded. “The others at the brewery,” he started, not sure what cover he should be working with, how he should be referring to his partners, “are they alright?”

“The gunman has been taken into custody after getting treatment for his concussion. The man and woman who were also injured are stable. I’m sorry, that’s all I can say,” she said, working with the machine next to Eliot.

He hoped that the floating feeling would leave soon. He needed to come back to his body, pain or no pain.

“Alright, call if you need to get back on the morphine or if you need assistance with anything else.”

“When can I get up?” Eliot asked.

“We can do a walk around this evening, but we’re leery of moving before in case the stitches are disturbed. We can take out the catheter at that time as well, as you will be able to get up for bathroom needs at that point. Sounds okay?”

It didn’t, but Eliot forced himself to nod again.

The nurse had been out of the room for about a minute when Eliot heard something overhead. He grinned at the ceiling, then frowned.

“Parker, should you be up yet?” he asked.

“The doc said that I could get up to see to my needs, and I needed to check on you,” she said through the vent.

“They meant the bathroom, Parker, not my sorry ass,” Eliot said.

“Yeah, yeah. How you feeling?” she asked.

“They reduced my meds, but still disconnected a bit.” He knew she would get what he meant, so he didn’t elaborate. “Alec okay?”

“Yeah. He was still sleeping, but his vitals looked good. He lost the most blood of us, so he’ll probably be in here the longest,” Parker said.

“He’ll love that,” Eliot grumbled, already imagining the havoc that Hardison could produce if left in a hospital bed for any extended period of time.

Of course, he would have to be awake to cause havoc…

Eliot shrugged away the thought, reminded himself that Parker said he was doing well.

“How long you gonna be here?” Eliot asked.

He heard a rustle and imagined that Parker had shrugged. “Bullet went through and through, just bled a lot. Once they are sure that it’s closed and healing, I’ll be good to go. They had to dig the bullet out of your hip,” she said, her voice getting quieter. “So it might be longer for you.”

“I figured that, darlin’. It’ll be alright.” He glared at the grate without any real heat. “Now get back to your bed and to healing.”

“I’d rather be here with you,” she said, her voice soft.

“That ain’t fair,” Eliot said, staring at the grate. He felt the ache in his hip and now he had one in his heart. “You gotta go back, Parker, cause if you’re here, you aren’t getting your meds. I’m being good and taking mine, you gotta too.”

“Fiiiiine,” Parker said. “I’ll be back though.”

“I would be worried if you didn’t,” Eliot said.

He didn’t hear her go, but felt when she was gone.

It was going to be a long stay in the hospital.

___________________________________

Hardison had woken up later that evening and Eliot had been able to see him when he was doing his walk around. Alec was still pretty out of it, but he smiled up at Eliot.

“Knew you would take care of it,” he said, only slurring a bit.

“Get some sleep,” Eliot said, resisting the urge to touch him. Their cover stories weren’t partners.

Parker got out of the hospital first. Eliot missed her voice coming out of the ceiling, but was checked out the next day anyways.

The brewpub wasn’t the same without Alec around. Eliot ended up stocking a bunch of the meals that Alec liked in the fridge for when he came home and Parker installed a new security system. They cleaned the whole back area of the pub they called their home, working in tandem as they washed sheets and clothes, scrubbed down the kitchen and bathroom, and tidied the rest of it. They didn’t sleep much.

By the time Alec got home, the place was spotless and stocked with orange soda and Eliot’s food.

Hardison eased onto the couch and looked around. He turned to his partners and grinned. “You missed me.”

Parker rolled her eyes. “Course we did, dummy.”

Eliot inclined his head, conceding. “Maybe.”

“You hungry?” Eliot continued.

“Eliot made all your favorites,” Parker said. Eliot narrowed his eyes at her, cause he wanted that to be a surprise.

“Did he?” Hardison said, smile turning toward Eliot. “You know I’d never say no to Eliot’s cooking. Mind bringing it here? Have y’all eaten? Let’s just all eat here, pull up some movie.”

Eliot nodded. Parker jumped up from where she had been sitting next to Alec, kissing him on the top of his head before she followed Eliot into the kitchen.

They settled in, food and movie at the ready. They finished eating long before the end of the movie, but their plates lay forgotten on the coffee table as they cuddled as close as their wounds would allow them to.

Eliot felt sleep come slowly towards him, but didn’t do anything to fight it. He trusted Parker, and by extension, her security system. He knew that both Parker and Hardison were safe and healing. More bad days may come, but they would face them together.

In the arms of his two best friends and loves of his life, he let himself rest.

#leverage ot3 #parker x hardison x eliot #alec hardison #parker #eliot spencer #leverage #fanfic #my fic

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ziracona · 3 years

Text

It’s my Birthday today and I wanted to start it off with updating a fic I’m enjoying writing. Hope you enjoy the read. : )

[Fate Grand Order AU fic] The Kid (pt: 1, ... 8, 9, 10, 11, ?)

----

“Okay so, sorry, I’m still doing a little catch-up,” mutters Robin as we reach another corner and pause. Ahead, Emiya holds up a hand for us to halt and we do.

“Robin, do you have the mana for May King?” I hear Emiya’s voice in my head. Which, I appreciate being looped in on. Kind of thought he was going to be more of a pain to work with just because he could be, but he’s surprisingly practical and easy to work with for the uncooperative introduction we have. He seems real familiar with Robin’s abilities; gotta wonder where and when exactly they did meet—'specially since Robin barely seems to remember him at all.

Unlike me, poor Ritsuka looks like the frequent mental chatter is still something she’s trying to get used to; zones out a little every time someone communicates this way. I get it—took me a while to not be weirded out myself my first time summoned, and that was with the ability coming naturally, since I was a spirit.

“Hold that thought,” whispers Robin to me, then mentally to us all, “Yeah, a few times if it’s short. This important?”

“It’s not a difficult hall,” replies Emiya mentally, “But there’s too many people interacting with their security measures, and we haven’t gotten enough of us free yet. If we can’t disarm the magecraft security system and their personnel at once, someone might stay up just long enough to hit an alarm, and I’d prefer we free as many of us as possible before they figure out what we’re up to, since-“ He almost hesitates, glancing at Ritsuka for a split second, but he doesn’t. “-they might just start to kill them.”

Makes sense. I know it. They have catalysts to get us all back, and we have no idea where those are. I hate it, but he’s right—they’d definitely do it. Pretty sure I see Ritsuka connecting the same dots.

“Roger. I’ll move ahead into position,” says Robin mentally, cracking his neck as he moves up, “Give me about six seconds to find a good vantage point, then I’ll go as soon as I sense mana from you going after the security system.”

“Can we help?” asks Ritsuka worriedly in my head.

“If something goes wrong,” replies Robin telepathically, “Hopefully we won’t need it.” He stands then. “Sorry Mast—Ritsuka. I’m going to take a little bit out of you with this, but it’s only a skill, utilized this way, so it shouldn’t be too bad.” At my side, Robin glances down and gives a nod, then vanishes—not to spirit form, just flat out invisible. God it’s so cool! It always has been. Wish I could vanish like that; be useful as hell when dodging pursuers or trying to get an edge! Wish it was a thing he could teach me, but it don’t work like that—it’s a skill earned in life, and it’s all the thief of the forest’s.

Ahead, Ritsuka’s eyes widen as she watches him vanish, but she follows where I think he might be—she’s connected more than we are to each other, so she probably has a better idea than I do. Honest, it’s weird to have a guess where he is at all; I...don’t think I’ve ever been co-servant to someone before. It’s different, but, I like it. I like having a team. I mean, I’ve had allies before, but this ain’t the same. I can sense Robin a little myself like this, but I gotta wonder just how different it feels to be a master.

Emiya places his hand against the wall and whispers somethin’, and I feel a pulse of mana from him and hear the sudden ‘flishk’ of drawn bow strings releasing and movement, plus one choked, barely audible cry, then several quiet thuds all in rapid succession.

“Clear,” comes Robin’s voice in our heads.

Emiya smiles and steps out, Ritsuka and me behind him, and Robin materializes ahead of us between five guards sprawled unconscious along the ground. Kinda amazed how well we’re doing so far—damn it I’m gonna jinx us, but still! Non-lethal is way harder, and we’re still doing ok.

Looking amazed by the scene, Ritsuka rushes up to Robin. “Wow, that was incredible!” she whispers excitedly, “How do you do that? —How did you know he could do that?” she adds, turning big eyed to Emiya.

Robin and Emiya share a glance, slightly awkward. Huh, don’t seem like Emiya knows him too well, from the way he’s lookin’ at him; which makes it weirder he knows so much about his skills. Maybe…they fought? They don’t seem hostile to each other at all, but somethin’ like a Holy Grail War, where mages force you to kill each other, God knows I’ve fought my share of people I had no desire to kill and who really had no desire to kill me either. I could see it bein’ somethin’ like that. …Maybe?

“It’s uh, an inherited custom from the Celts,” says Robin, “I picked up some tricks, when I was on the run so much, and I guess it was pretty good, because as a servant, it lets me do that.”

Ritsuka looks at Emiya for his half of an answer.

“...We’ve met,” offers Emiya vaguely.

“Oh,” says Ritsuka in surprise, “So. You and Billy and Robin-?”

“—No, we never met,” I interject, gesturing between me and Emiya.

“Okay, so, different times?” checks Ritsuka, “When-”

“-I don’t mean to be rude,” says Emiya gently, “But we don’t really have time to discuss this.” He gestures to the waiting door and Ritsuka flushes.

“R-right—I’m sorry—it’s just interesting how you all meet and I want to know more—“

“-Hey, don’t worry kid,” says Robin, clapping her on the back, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know later. To answer your question,” he adds casually, moving to the door and drawing back a leg to kick, “I’m not sure about him, but I don’t remember.” With one solid slam from his foot, Robin snaps through the remaining physical lock on the door so it slides open, and in the one second before I’m distracted by what’s inside, I notice Emiya raise an eyebrow. Huh. So you do remember.

I get a glimpse into the room ahead then, and every thought goes out of my head. Except ‘The...hell?’

It’s different. It’s so different. I know it’s only been me and Robin so far, but it’s not the death bed with a withered corpse I expected at all. The spirit in this room is very much alive, and it is furious.

The cell is circular, with more seals carved into and drawn on the floor and walls and ceiling than I can process, and the spirit is dead center of them all, with heavy, bulky, painful looking restraints locked around his feet and forearms, another thick band around his waist and more on his thighs, his neck, his upper arms, each attached to a different heavy chain drawn taut, tugging in opposite directions of each other and making it as close as it can to impossible for him to move at all. He’s got a blindfold on too, also metal and painful looking, and a gag, but he’s not kneeling under the weight of it all like I was, or immobile and weak like Robin; he’s thrashing madly with the tiny, limited movement he has. His head snaps in our direction when we enter, and I hear his muffled, angry shouts even from here. He’s choking himself and ripping at the skin on his arms and legs and neck, but still, he’s fighting—and wildly. In fact, I’m pretty sure the seals around the room are the only thing keeping him captive at all.

It hurts to watch, seeing one of us rip blindly at his restraints, trying to break free like a dog being forced into in a fighting ring. But, I’m also impressed. Astounded. He doesn’t seem scared at all, just angry, and there’s something reassuring about it. ‘Specially since he’s short too.

“Huh,” says Emiya, the same look on his face I figure is on mine, and is definitely on Ritsuka. She snaps out of it first though, and starts to rush toward the blinded spirit, then hesitates because we’ve all balked too.

“...Can’t one of you break the locks? Like for Robin?” asks Ritsuka worriedly, half-turning to face us.

“Probably, but we don’t know what happens if we step in the circle,” explains Emiya, indicating the etchings above, below, and all around us.

“Yeah, I don’t speak mage runes, but I’m pretty sure that says some version of ‘if you’re a heroic spirit, get fucked,‘ ’cause I can feel that from here. —I got you though,” I add quickly, “move a little left and I’ll shoot one from here.” Thank God for long ranged skills! Both of the others seem chagrined I’m the first to think of this; can’t decide if I should be proud, or insulted by that.

Ritsuka hops to the side, and I aim, but I hesitate again with my gun drawn. The man in front of me is blinded and I don’t think he can hear well, because he ain’t reacted to anything we’ve said—only our presence—and he’s flipped out. If I free him, he might lash out, and Ritsuka is closer than we are. I’d rush in, of course, but I have no idea if stepping in that circle would paralyze me.

“Hey Boss—Partner?” I correct, lowering my gun just a little, “I don’t think he can hear well with that thing on his head. He’s panicked and angry—might be a bad idea to cut him loose without explaining who we are. Even if he don’t attack us, he’s probably gonna make a lot of noise, and we don’t need that.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, looking from him to me. Ahead, the spirit lunges in our direction with a fury I understand and makes me pretty sure I’m right that he has no idea who we are.

“Think you can calm him down? I could shout from here, but we don’t wanna he heard, and you probably got a better shot anyway. Not sure how much he can hear, but he’s gotta be able to hear a little, since he seems to know where we are without his eyes. Try talking to him—let him know we’re here to help ‘fore I break him free?” I suggest.

“Uhm,” she says, looking from him to me, “I’ll try.”

I feel bad immediately, seeing the moment of fear in her before she moves forward, so I take another step, close as I can get without hitting the circle, and call after her, “Don’t worry! Promise; he makes a move to hurt you, I’ll stop him before he even gets close; easy shot from here, ‘n I’m a crack shot—I won’t miss. ‘N don’t worry—won’t hurt him too much, either,” I add with a wink.

She glances back and smiles at me, worry mostly evaporated, and I grin back.

“Okay,” she whispers to herself, and then she turns to the bound figure up ahead.

He hears her coming, and there’s a muffled scream of rage from him as he tears at the chains holding him back. We’re not any of us an easy thing to contain, and I can sense how much he knows it, how furious and how ready to make whoever did this pay.

Beside me, I sense movement and out of the corner of my eyes, and I make out Robin and Emiya both moving, Emiya first, materializing a bow and readying a shot like I am, Robin doing the same with an arrow on his crossbow, but pivoting to keep an eye behind us, on the hall. Bases covered.

Carefully, Ritsuka takes another step, edging closer. About fifteen feet from him now in the big room. He definitely knows where she is—even blindfolded, his head moves with her and he thrashes in her direction as threateningly as he can like he is. The restraints on his legs and arms are bulky, so I can’t see his hands or feet, but the places they end on his forearms and calves are bleeding from his attempts to rip free.

“I-it’s okay,” says Ritsuka, taking another careful step over one of the taut chains, and putting her hands up calming and nonthreateningly as she proceeds moving closer. He can’t see her, but of course she still is. “It’s alright. We a-”

The spirit uses his neck to rip the chain around it back with all his might, and I realize almost too late it’s the one she’s just now carefully stepping over.

I can’t think of a way to stop it long-distance, so I bolt. The second my foot goes over the first seal though, I feel an intense amount of mana hit me, and I knew it was coming, but it’s SO much worse than I expect, and I can’t move. It’s so much. It’s agonizing, like being hit with a bolt of lightning! The hell kind of seal-! Fuck! I—can move, damn it! I will!

I can! I can. I just... It takes immense effort, but I feel my muscles starting to move. I’m gonna be way too late—I should—

Arm throbbing with pain, I drag my hand up to level a shot as the chain snaps into her leg and she yelps and pivots forward. If he has a real plan and some way to grab her, least I can shoot him first, but something closes around the back of my vest and I’m flung backwards with force onto the safe ground outside.

“Idiot!” calls Emiya irritated over his shoulder, “You don’t have the magic resistance of an Archer! Stay out there!”

He’s...right, but. Even Robin and he shouldn’t...?

How is he doing that?

It’s been less than two seconds and he’s already there. He barely even lost steam throwing me. I-I am watching him shoot to her side with such speed I could almost swear he teleported, through a bounded field. He catches Ritsuka like it’s nothing while she’s still in the air, and rights her as she yelps in surprise, then jumps and flings himself back out of range of the circle, landing just outside it far on the right side with a little wince and a grimace. I gape at him from on the ground. It did hurt then, doing that. The field—It did hit him. He just...got through? The hell kind of magic resistance you got? I know Archer’s a knight class and that gets you some, but...

This is something else. I don’t know what. I-I didn’t think any of us could move in there, once I felt it; that can’t just be magic resistance can it? But it’s something. I want to ask, but I know it’s not the time. He glances at me though, after making sure Ritsuka is fine and giving her a nod when she checks over his should to see if everything is okay and she should keep going, and I realize to my surprise I’m pretty sure he’s doing the same with me—checking in to see I’m okay. I manage a nod as well.

“You okay?” asks Robin from behind me.

“Yeah,” I answer. My gun’s been leveled the whole time, but I’m only now remembering to get to my feet again, and do, eyes on the chained spirit the whole time, “Those things always sting, but it ain’t as bad as some other recent memories.”

I kind of expect Robin to say something back, but he doesn’t, so I turn 100% of my attention to the people in the middle of the room.

“It’s okay!” tries Ritsuka again, facing the bound spirit but hesitating to move forward out there now, “Please stop fighting us! I’m not an enemy; we’re trying to help you, I swear!”

I don’t feel a change in the atmosphere at all—the spirit is still radiating anger—but he stops tearing at his bindings for a moment when she speaks and just stands there breathing hard, blindfolded eyes turned towards her and blood running down his neck and limbs.

“Thank you,” says Ritsuka, smiling and holding up a hand in thanks with the word even though he can’t see it, before moving forward again, “If you just listen, I-I can explain—I promise, we’re not here to hurt you. We aren’t with the people who locked you up. We broke in here to try and help. Everyone but me in here is another heroic spirit, and we’re all trying to help you—help all the spirits trapped in here!”

The man stays still and tilts his head slowly, considering her. Mistrustful, I think, like I was. But he’s hopeful, or desperate, too—not sure why they’d send her to lie, which is enough to make you hope.

“I-I’m gonna get a little closer now, okay?” says Ritsuka, edging towards him again, “And see if I can get any of those chains off you. The others can probably do it if I can’t, but they’re all spirits so they’re having a hard time getting past the uh—the seals.”

He tilts his head back upright and then the other way, and tracks her movement by sound as she gets closer. The guy is still breathing heavy and clearly on edge, but he lets her get close this time.

When she reaches him, Ritsuka holds her hand up. I don’t think he’s going to lash out, but I don’t trust like that—‘specially knowing the pressure he’s under firsthand—and so I keep my gun trained on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay? To see if I can figure out how this is fastened. P-Please don’t hit me.”

She stutters nervously on that last line, and I see just a little of the tension in the man’s shoulders loosen. Interesting. I guess that means whoever he is, he ain’t the most hardened sort, if he’s feelin’ empathy for a stranger while trapped like that.

Ritsuka moves a little to the side for a better look and touches the back of the shackle blinding him, and he flinches and pulls away a half-inch on impulse, breathing quickening for a second, then goes still again. This must be agonizing for him.

“Really is okay!” I call out in a hushed voice, even though like that he probably can’t hear me. I can’t risk drawing security, but-

Emiya side-eyes me for a second. I can’t tell if the look is annoyed or amused. Guess it don’t matter.

“Okay—it’s pretty simple. Just a little bolt again,” says Ritsuka in relief. I hear a metallic ‘click’ and then she’s pulling the metal blindfold off him, and there’s a fairly young man—maybe early 30s at a guess—looking back at her then. He’s not very bulky, and taller than me, but not tall, kinda long and shaggy green hair, and a face I don’t recognize at all with red marks all over it where the metal bit in, a few little trickles of blood runnin’ down his forehead and cheekbones from it. The most notable thing though is the expression on his face. He registers Ritsuka’s form as she lowers the blindfold and his eyes go wide. The man blinks at her a few times, then quickly looks up, clocks me and Robin and Emiya, seems relieved, and looks back questioningly at Ritsuka. Almost all of his readiness to lash out has vanished in an instant.

“Hi,” says Ritsuka, smiling at him, “I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru. Nice to meet you. Thank you for not hitting me.”

The man blinks again, and gives her a little nod. I see more of his tension ease.

“I’m really sorry this happened to you. We’re here to help—those two were stuck here too.” She pauses to point to me and Robin, and I give him a little hat tip, Robin a two-fingered wave in acknowledgement.

Our Master—I mean partner—friend? —Ritsuka, she looks down at some of the other oddly bulky shackles, and then back up at the now much more calmly waiting man. I’m trying to guess who he could be. We had letter, earring, kunai, and a pot, according to her, ‘long with my and Robin’s catalysts. He’s definitely not Asian—looks maybe...middle eastern, Semitic? Not sure though. Either way, I’m willing to bet he’s not the kunai, so that leaves broken pot, earring, and letter. None of which help much. I don’t have a good guess, and that’s only if they haven’t gotten more since Ritsuka saw catalysts anyway, but, whoever he is, he seems level-headed and decent at least, so I’m takin’ this all so far as a good sign.

“The ones on your arms and legs have real locks, so I’m not sure I can get them—I’ll have to have one of the guys shoot them off from outside the circle,” says Ritsuka, looking sorry.

I look at Robin and Emiya, because what I got’s loud; the two of them exchange looks, and Emiya sighs and turns to study the chains for a second, then summons a long, thin…arrow? and draws.

“But let me get the gag first—I think I can get that too,” says Ritsuka smiling at the man as she reaches up to do it. Much less on his guard now, he stoops for her to make it easier to reach, still watching her carefully though. Or, actually, interested more than careful, maybe, at second glance. Huh. Very level-headed man.

The gag makes a snap sound, and Ritsuka pulls it off. Relieved, the man opens his mouth and kind of rolls his jaw, trying to get the taste of it out, then straightens back up and smiles at Ritsuka. “Well thank you very much, for that and the rescue.”

Unbelievably calm. But I don’t think he’s being fake—he’s just got some kinda personality.

“Where did you come from, Miss...Fujimaru, yes?” he asks, and she nods, “How did someone as young as you end up-” he tries to gesture, immediately hits already taut chain, and winces, “-here?”

“Wrong, or, right, depending on how you look at it, place at the right time,” answers Ritsuka.

He’s definitely curious, but he just gives a nod of acknowledgement.

“Oh—before you do that,” she says to Emiya, then turns back to the man, “Uhm, you’re probably connected to the building somehow, and if we break those, you’ll run out of mana. Or. You aren’t actually that hurt,” she adds like she’s only just now really thinking about it, “But you’ll still vanish pretty fast if we sever your connection to mana, won’t you?”

“Yes and no,” says the man, clearly surprised by how much she has figured out, “You’re right they somehow altered the contracts to let the technology itself provide us with mana, and we can break the contracts physically, like you would killing a Master, by breaking the machine.”

“Why?” she asks, lost.

“They want to sell us. This makes us easily transportable, and it’s not like a mage could support one of us alone outside a ritual easily anyway,” says the man, a bit of that earlier rage and spite sinking back into his tone. He refocuses on Ritsuka and smiles again. “But I’m an Archer, so I can survive for a little bit on my own—week or two—without an anchor, since I’m not in terrible shape.”

“Another fucking Archer?” asks Robin without thinking, almost affronted disbelief in his voice and his face when I turn to look and see him gaping.

Wait.

“Oh shit, he’s right! Did they only take Archers? Why??” I ask.

“That is almost upsetting somehow,” says Emiya thoughtfully, “They didn’t summon me, but two and a half out of six of you so far is still super weird.”

“You’d think we’d be less good picks, since we can survive so long on our own. They should be grabin’ Casters or somethin’,” I agree in confusion.

“Wait, all three of you are Archers?” asks the man.

“I’m a gunner,” I say like ‘kind of’ while Robin says “Yeah,” with irritation and Emiya says, “I guess.”

“That is weird,” says the man to Ritsuka, “but I don’t think we have time to discuss it. Their security might not be perfect, but they aren’t idiots.”

She nods. “Uhm, okay. Well, in that case, I guess you don’t need to contract right now to be okay, but if you’d like to—to help you fight better or without worrying about disappearing, you can contract with me—if you want.”

His expression is one of a man hearing something that made complete sense until suddenly it made absolutely none at all. “...C. ...You? But.” He looks over at the rest of us, then back at her, “are none of the others...? -You know, outside a ritual, even a strong mage will be exhausted by that?”

“Oh, I know,” says Ritsuka quickly, nodding, “I’m not good at magic yet, and can’t do almost any spells, but my circuits are weird and apparently I have such a massive pool of mana I can support multiple heroic spirits on my own without a grail or anything!”

He stares at her like that straight up can’t compute. Blinks slowly. Looks at us.

“Yeah,” I say. She looks so proud of herself. It makes me happy! And weirdly proud too.

“It’s true,” agrees Robin, “Got no idea how many she can carry, but we’re three so far, and she hasn’t slowed down a bit.”

“Wow,” says the man, looking back at her with big eyes, “That’s quite a skill.” He considers for a moment and then smiles to himself. “Todah,” he says quietly, almost fondly, and then, “What a blessing; God never ceases to surprise. I will happily take you up on your offer Ba’al, I accept.” He gives a little, awkward and slightly painful looking bow as best he can still bound. “My true name is David, and I am an Archer. Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, surprised and flattered. She flushes and holds out a hand, then realizes he can’t take one the way it is. He smiles at her and bows his head forward instead, resting it against her outstretched fingers. “Uhm.” She takes a second to find her footing. “My soul becomes your will, your spirit becomes my destiny. If you hear me and agree, accept me and join, Archer.”

It’s softer than I’ve heard her say it before. Funny how many ways I’ve heard it now. Desperate, to me, afraid of losing me. Intense and pleading, to Emiya, begging for help. Kind and intent and sincere to Robin. And now here, soft and happy. I got no idea why that’s all so significant to me, but it is. I feel like I’m gonna remember it. I hope I will.

…I…

….Haven’t thought about that for a while, but now that the thought’s there, my gut sinks and my heart with it.

I might not. …So often, the Throne won’t let us remember anything from a summon once we die and get dragged back to it. God only knows how many Ritsukas I didn’t want to forget as bad as I don’t wanna forget this now, and don’t even get to know to be sad I can’t remember.

I hate that thought. ...

In the center of the room, a light flashes from Ritsuka’s hand at the point of connection, and I can feel a faint attachment of my own to David now. Try to focus on that instead. On how odd it feels to be under the same master as someone else, but not bad—just so different, in a way it’s hard to really get over.

David, he said? Right—which David? WAIT.

“David?” I ask way too fast, interrupting this beautiful moment without thinking, my mind completely blank outside of one sudden fear, “Wait, which David who’s an Archer—you’re not-?”

He looks over surprised and then gives me a kind of sheepish smile. “King David of Israel. Son of Jesse and Nitzevet, father of Solomon, my successor.”

Oh my God. Oh God; fuck—I’m so glad I didn’t shoot him.

Emiya is taking this in stride, but Robin looks at least a little something, and Ritsuka’s eyes have gone huge. “You’re a king? Wait. You’re from. -” She’s floundering, so I step in to save her.

“-King David? I—Hi, Billy the Kid; I’m so honored to meet you! I never met a Biblical-uhh-T-Torah-ical,” shit now I’m floundering worse god damn it; I was trying I—I just never seen someone from the...th-the actual religion that—I practice, before—I.

Totally nonplussed, King David shakes his head dismissively with a smile. “I know what you mean; pleased to meet you all. Please though, just call me David. My days as a King are long past, and on the Throne, I have been called to serve others again. I was a shepherd before I was a king, and I have always been the both. Think of me as just another companion, because right now, it’s who I am.”

“Whoa,” says Ritsuka, still a little pale and in awe, “Th-thank you. Okay, David. I-It’s great to meet you too. —I’m so sorry! What am I doing?! -Emiya, can you?” She glances over and sees his bow drawn, nods, and hops out of his way.

King David glances at Emiya, then holds perfectly still, and the archer draws a quick series of shots that tear through the restraints nearly simultaneously in a little shower of sparks and screeching metal. Some kinda style; don’t think I’ve ever seen someone shoot what was clearly swords just now off a bow string before. Huh. Who are you?

The chains fall away, and King David raises his arms and looks at his hands, flexes them, and takes in the bruising and lacerations on his body from trying to get free.

“I’ll try to heal you,” offers Ritsuka, stepping up to him. He glances over at her. “I’m still learning, so I’m not sure I can fix it all, but I’m sure I can help!”

He smiles and gives a nod, stoops a little and offers her his arms. She takes them in her hands, scrunches her face up and shuts her eyes, and I sense a quick, small pulse of mana. It’s amazing how much she picked up in one night. I’m kinda in awe, watchin’ the worst bruises fade, and the cuts that are still bleeding close up and start to heal. It ain’t perfect, like me, like Robin, but it’s a hell of a lot, and King David looks pleased and maybe a little impressed himself.

“Thank you, Ba’al,” says King David, “I’m good to go now.”

Ritsuka opens her eyes and beams at him. She’s sweating a little again from the effort, but it ain’t bad. She’s holdin’ up like a champ so far. “Great!” she says, “Let’s get moving, then!” She takes a step and spins right back around back to face King David. “—Oh. Can you walk out okay? Do I need to carry you?”

Kind David looks incredibly tickled by that offer, but he shakes his head. “I’ve got extremely good magic resistance, even for an Archer—I’d love to get out of this seal now though—it’s quite agonizing.” Without extra comment, he slides his hands under her armpits and lifts her up, then speed single-hops right out of the seal, like Emiya did, and sets her down gently.

“Oh—uh—thanks,” says Ritsuka, surprised but not bothered, “okay—sorry for taking so long,” she adds to us three, “Let’s get to the next one!”

Emiya gives a nod and moves to take point again, motioning us after.

“Question,” says Robin quietly as we slide out into the hall, watching King David’s surprised and little else expression as he takes in the unconscious guards, “I’m uh, really glad for you that you weren’t on death’s door like us—don’t get me wrong—but I thought that was their whole thing. Why were you just kind of...imprisoned? It’s a weird break of form. Might be significant.”

“Oh, that,” says David, “it is a break of form, but it’s not very significant, except I guess as proof they’re not exactly the most seasoned of field mages, no matter how much money, staff, and technical skill they have. They didn’t know which King they were going to get, summoning me. Just the general power of the catalyst—guess they got it not very legally, even for a catalyst. And unfortunately for them, I’m not a great candidate for death-battery-whatever they’re doing, because I died peacefully in my sleep as an old man.”

“The dream,” I say just loud enough for only Robin next to me to hear, and he shoots me a barely restrained smile.

“So then,” continues Robin, “Why keep you? Dangerous to leave one of us alive and motivated to rip shit apart.”

“Mmm,” agrees King David with a nod, “But they weren’t going to keep me. They were going to sell me, contract and all, to the highest bidder. Contacted a lot of mage groups.”

Ritsuka looks so horrified hearing that. It’s sweet, and a little sad, because Robin and I aren’t even surprised by it. It’s not really even odd; it makes sense. That’s how mages act, and that’s how we get treated.

“Any idea who or what for?” asks Robin.

“Hey,” comes Emiya’s voice in our heads, “Uh ahead. Sensing a containment field like the rest, but no guards at all this time.”

“That’s...weird,” says Ritsuka back mentally. She keeps closing her eyes to talk in her head when she starts, and it’s endearingly funny to watch. “I mean...I don’t want to jinx us, but hasn’t this all been...too easy? When I got Billy out, I had a huge explosion and the element of surprise, and no tripped alarms and a working pass, and I still barely got out. Here they’re already on high alert, and we’ve freed three heroic spirits now, and they’re not guarding the rest or checking their rooms?”

Huh. I mean, I’m not as familiar as she is with building security, but she’s right that they’ve been...weirdly placed.

“Yes,” agrees Emiya, tone firm, “it is strange. There are a lot of armed people here, and security, but even with all the luck in the world, it’s almost unbelievable they haven’t pinpointed us yet, and we haven’t hit more security. It’s like...”

“...A trap?” I ask nervously.

“...No,” says Emiya out loud as we all reach a corner and pause together, “It’s like someone’s helping us.”

“What?” says Ritsuka, taken aback.

“There’s too many people weirdly scattered for it to feel like a trap,” says Emiya, “It’s more like watching moves on a shogi board where someone is trying very hard to make sure they lose. The pieces are all here, they just keep...being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or, sure not being in the right one anyway.”

“Nobody helped you before, right?” I ask.

Ritsuka shakes her head.

Considering, King David tilts his head and lets out low ‘hmmmm,’ then says, “…There are people here right now, for me.”

“Hm?” says Robin.

“Other mage groups—their representatives. Rivals, some of them. To bid. It’s possible, not sure, but, someone might be grabbing this opportunity for a little self-serving corporate espionage.”

“God willing,” says Robin, cracking his neck again, “Love it if some selfish spineless little prick picked now to do something that helps us. Enemy of my enemy, and all.”

“That seems plausible, but since we can’t be sure, I know there’s no point saying ‘stay alert’ when we all already are, but, be ready for something to go wrong. It might,” says Emiya, and then he grimaces like ‘maybe shouldn’t have said that,’ looks at Ritsuka, and says, “it also might not. Just pays to prepare.”

She nods, and we all turn to face the hall. Emiya places his hand on the wall again and I feel a faint pulse of mana from him.

“Yup, definitely a servant up ahead. One floor up, almost directly above us. ‘Bout one room further,” says Emiya, pointing, “We can take the elevator shaft—probably less likely to draw attention than destroying the floor, and if we do have someone helping us with some corporate espionage or just a really incompetent new security staff, let’s not make it hard on them to keep going.”

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amintyworld · 3 years

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Mentors - Dream SMP Hunger Games AU

A/N: So this started as a one page drabble, then it turned into a six page fic. Oopsies! Anyway this is meant to be a sort of prequel to ‘The Victor’ drabble I submitted over at @dreamsmp-au-ideas, but can be read as stand-alone. Anyway, I wrote this in the span of an entire DAY because I have no self-control when it comes to writing and this AU has sparked some Middle School nostalgia in me. Anyway, hope you enjoy and please check out the blog where the AU idea came from, they’ve given me a LOT of inspiration for fics to write. -Minty

TW: Talk/mention of death, fighting, depression/loss, threats of death, slight insanity. (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!)

Summary: Tommy’s an angry orphan, Wilbur grows a soft spot for Tommy, Sam is the only braincell left in District 7, Tubbo has Dadschlatt and needs a lot of hugs, Phil earned the achievement ‘Oh no Feelings’.

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Tubbo intertwined his fingers as he walked with the guards toward the white porcelain-like door. The shock of his name getting pulled hadn’t exactly faded yet, and the dread of the logical conclusion he’d drawn up in his head did not exactly help matters. He knew he was dead - he’d never trained for combat, he wasn’t agile or fast, he knew next to nothing about surviving in the wilderness, or even whatever the Gamemaker threw at him for that matter. His fate was completely sealed the moment that boy with devil horns picked his name out of the bowl.

He took a breath, his hand on the door handle. Time to say goodbye.

As soon as he shut the door, he could feel his father’s comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, kiddo.” His voice was gentle, warm, and kind. Tubbo’s emotions couldn’t help but become unplugged at the voice as tears ran down his cheeks and he clung to his father tightly, afraid to let go. Schlatt wrapped his arms around Tubbo gently, rubbing his back to give him some comfort. “Oh Tubbo, I know kiddo, shhh...”

“I’m so scared, Dad.” Tubbo’s voice wavered as his body shook with sobs, and Schlatt’s heart broke at his son’s voice.

“I know buddy, I know.” Schatt moved so he could brush his hands through his son’s hair. “But… but you don’t have to be. I know you can do it, I know you can win.” A few tears slipped down Schlatt’s cheek. “You’re so much smarter than any of those meatheads in the Capitol, probably in any other District in Panem. You’re so much stronger than you know, kiddo. I know you can do it. Just survive, I know you can outthink any of them, I know you can win. Just survive, win, and I’ll be waiting right here when you come back, okay?”

“And… and we can finally make s’mores?”

Schlatt’s face broke out into a smile through tears. “Yes, yes we can make as many s’mores as you want! We… we’ll… I’ll show you the bee farms, and I promise I’ll be there every single night for dinner, no more late hours at the office. I swear.” Schlatt’s hands squeezed Tubbo’s shoulders. “But you gotta win and come home, okay?”

Tubbo’s eyes blurred with tears as he scanned his father’s face, words dying in his throat, not knowing what to say. “Dad, I-”

Schlatt pulled him down into another hug as the two wept, holding onto each other for dear life, not daring to let go. Then, a soldier appeared in the doorway. “He’s got a train to catch, Mr. Ram.”

Schlatt breathed deeply, pulling away from the hug to run his hand through his son’s hair one last time, taking in his face as he brushed a bit of hair out of his face. “I…” He bit his lip. “I love you, Tubbo. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“I love you too, Dad.” Tubbo gave a quick hug to his father, wrapping his arms around his neck.

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When Wilbur was assigned as a mentor for District 7, he was more than a little nervous. The other Victors from Victor’s Row assured him he’d do just fine, but still, he was not exactly looking forward to it. He’d met the escort and advisor a few days ago, someone from the Capitol named Sam. For someone from one of the richest districts in Panem, Sam didn’t exactly dress in high fashion - no bright colors or extravagant hairstyles. Instead, he simply wore a clean formal vest and slacks. He gave Wilbur the firmest handshake he’d ever been given in his entire life, and despite the situation seemed almost cheerful.

If he remembered correctly, he was supposed to settle in his personal car on the train and meet Sam in the dining car. Sam seemed to have every detail of their trip planned out perfectly, which Wilbur more than appreciated. He was already dealing with enough as it was having to mentor two kids and try to get them sponsors while basically reliving the worst time in his entire life. Ths screams, the blood… the memories were… they were not good.

They called him insane, unstable. The One Who Went Mad. When he used to panic and whimper and mutter to himself, they used to laugh at him. They thought what he’d been through, the things that he’s seen, and the nightmares that plagued him were nothing more than a funny joke. They loved his pain and suffering. Wilbur didn’t like when they laughed at him like some stupid monkey in a cage. That’s why he preferred to just stay home most of the time. But at this point mentorship was unavoidable, it was under Capitol orders.

It was a bit early before he was due to meet up with Sam in the dining car, and he craved a cup of black coffee. His mind whirred a bit from the familiar fancy train cars, and he needed something to clear his mind from remembering. When he opened the door, however, he didn’t expect to see one of the tributes already here this early. From his blond messy hair and his bright blue eyes, he assumed this was Tommy, the boy. Wilbur held up his hand to show he meant to harm before he moved past the teen sat near the window towards the tea cart, fiddling with the french press. Successfully pouring the pitch-black liquid in a very expensive looking teacup, he cradled it in his hands as he moved to sit across from the teenage boy, still focused on the train station outside the window. “Uh, interesting view?”

Tommy looked over at him for a moment, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Something like that.”

Wilbur sipped the bitter coffee thoughtfully. He took a breath before speaking. “You know, you’re allowed to say goodbye to your friends and family in the Governor’s office, if one of the Peacekeepers made a mistake I’m sure there’s still time for you to…”

“No.” The teenager’s voice seemed firm, staring out of the window. “They didn’t make a mistake.”

“Uh, well…” Wilbur felt the awkward tension in the room rise. “You are a… bit early, we don’t leave for another half-hour…”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go. No one to say goodbye to, so I guess they just skipped that part for convenience.” He looked almost angry as he turned back to Wilbur. “Do you mind maybe not staring at me?”

“I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” Tommy snapped. “You shouldn’t just start up a conversation just because you feel bored. I’m not paid to be your fucking entertainment.”

Add this to the number of reasons Wilbur didn’t want to be a mentor - teenagers. This kid certainly had a mouth on him.

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed in anger as he gripped his teacup, trying his best to stay calm. “Well, whether you like it or not, you’re all of Panem’s entertainment now.” Wilbur quipped as he moved to walk away. “So maybe you should learn to be a bit more likable.”

As he began to walk across the car to move toward a table in the corner of the room, he felt a heavy weight on his back as he lost his grip on his cup as it landed on the metal ground of the car with a loud crash, the coffee staining the expensive carpets. He felt punches on his back and head as someone tried to pin him down. Wilbur sighed in frustration. With ease, he jabbed Tommy’s side, putting him off balance, and flipped the kid over, grabbing his arm and pulling it behind his back. Tommy struggled against Wilbur’s grip, angry. He could see tears in the teenager’s eyes as he practically growled at Wilbur. “Take it back you bitch! Get off of me and fight! Take it back or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Tommy’s anger slowly disappeared as he began to cry, his body shaking as he sucked in breaths, slowly realizing what exactly he said. “I’ll… I’ll…” Wilbur’s heart couldn’t help but ache at the sight of the poor kid, bringing back memories of that time, that feeling of being trapped.

The door at the other end of the train car flew open, to reveal Sam and the girl tribute from the Reaping, Sarah. “Wilbur, what are you doing?” Sam questioned as Wilbur quickly got off of Tommy, holding out his hand for the teenager to take.

“Uh, right.” As Tommy’s eyes met Wilbur’s the mentor noticed how they scanned across his face, confused at Wilbur’s sudden change from annoyance to kindness. Wilbur smiled slightly. “Let’s save the real fighting for the arena, yeah?” Tommy hesitated before taking Wilbur’s hand as he helped him up, getting even more confused as he quickly wiped off his tear-stained cheeks.

“Sarah Teller and Tommy Innit, meet your Mentor, Wilbur Soot.”

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

Tubbo formally met his other tribute mate, a girl he knew from those fancy business dinners Schlatt would host - he never really talked with her much then, but it was nice to see a familiar face, that was for sure. Her name was Crystal.

They arrived and settled in without much really going on. Their advisor, the one with the devil horns a few hours earlier was their advisor, Bad. They were very confused at first why anyone would name their child that, until Bad insisted it was a nickname for ‘Badboy’… Tubbo couldn’t say he didn’t believe the advisor with some of the fancy and absurd names that seemed so popular in the richer districts. “Now, the best part is that even though you are both chosen as tributes, you’ll be able to see all the Capitol can offer before you’re in the arena. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

“I guess it’ll be kind of cool to see the Capitol.” Crystal agreed as she took a sip of a fruitful smelling juice of some kind. Her eyes furrowed as if she was focusing intently on the next words out of her mouth. “I mean, this year economy-wise wasn’t particularly the best for them, seeing as their main exports have been plagued with attacks. It’ll be interesting to see how they fair under unseemly conditions.”

“E...Economy?” Tubbo asked in a silent question to his fellow tribute, whose face flushed in embarrassment.

“My father is the head of exports for District 3. Knowing about stocks and stuff is kind of his thing… then, I guess, it became my thing.” Crystal shrugged, and Tubbo thoughtfully bit into a buttered crust of bread. “I don’t really think that’ll be too helpful in the Games, though.”

“Speaking of the Games, where’s that old man… I told him to meet us here almost an hour ago.” Bad thoughtfully added with a sigh. “He’s going to miss dinner completely if he doesn’t hurry up.”

Almost as if on cue, the car door slid open, and in walked a tall broad blonde-haired man who looked completely mentally checked out. He yawned as he reached over the table to grab an apple and one of Bad’s homemade muffins from the basket. He looked over to the two kids and gave them a slight smile and a two-fingered salute as if to say ‘hi’. “Crystal, Tubbo, this is Phil Craft, your Mentor,” Bad said, quickly gesturing to the man, anger bubbling to the surface. “Phil, where have you been?” Bad demanded, leaning over to snatch the muffin out of Phil’s hand. “No muffins until you eat actual food! We’re in District Two tomorrow and they expect us up and ready by 9 am sharp-!”

“Alright, alright! Stop freaking out, okay?” Phil pinched his nose in annoyance, turning his gaze to look over at the two teenagers again. Phil met Tubbo’s eyes and smirked. “Also, you said I needed real food?” Phil threw the apple up into the air as it caught wind on his arm, traveling over his shoulder blades and taking off of his opposite hand, landing in his mouth as he sunk his teeth into the apple flesh. “That count?” He asked between chewing as Tubbo and Crystal couldn’t help but smile and laugh, clapping to applaud Phil’s trick.

“You bail on us for a whole hour, show up to eat a single apple, and then got back to your little hermit hut?!” Bad’s voice raised slightly. “What do you even do in there that’s more important than this, huh??”

Phil’s playful smile dropped for a moment, replaced with something more melancholy as Bad clearly struck a nerve. There was a tense moment of silence before Phil resumed his happy persona. “Well, I didn’t mean to be a bother and disrupt your dinner. Now that I have my apple and my muffin, I’ll take my leave.” He looked over to the two tributes. “I’ll see both of you in the morning.” Phil smiled before quickly exiting the room once more, leaving a slightly irritated Bad, and two very off-put tributes.

Tubbo couldn’t sleep. The day’s events weighed too heavy on his mind - the Reaping, saying goodbye to his father, dealing with the thoughts of his own inevitable fate. He missed Schlatt’s warm embrace, he missed how his father ruffled up his hair just in the right way to say ‘I’m proud of you, kid.’ He missed home and its faint smell of motor oil and coal from the factories that always seemed to seep in through the windows and cracks in the walls just right. He didn’t feel safe here, he was in one of the fanciest bedrooms on a train that he knew he’d never be able to get a ticket for years, and yet nothing about this place felt safe.

He was being chased by something, something with claws and teeth that whispered nothing but death. But Tubbo didn’t want to die. Even if he knew it was his fate, Tubbo did not want to die. So he ran, his legs quickly getting sore and tired from overuse, yet he pushed on. He heard whispers in his ears, taunting him, laughing at his pathetic escape. Tears ran down Tubbo’s eyes as he pressed his hands over his ears and continued to run, something pinned him to the ground, claws sinking into his back as he whimpered in pain. A chill ran down his spine as the monster growled close to Tubbo’s ear. His heartbeat quicker as he begged, no pleaded to whatever was out there, please please I just want to live-!

He awoke with a start, looking around, tears streaming down his face as his body shook with an adrenaline rush. His hands found their way over his heart, making sure he was still alive as arms wrapped around him, shushing him and holding him close. “Woah there, Woah there… it’s okay, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real, shhh…” The panic in Tubbo’s chest slowly quieted as he wrapped his arms around the person, needing comfort desperately. The figure seemed startled for a moment before brushing back some of Tubbo’s hair out of his eyes. Tubbo looked at the figure for a moment, confused.

“Phil?”

“Hey mate.” Phil smiled warmly. “That was quite the nightmare, yeah? You were flopping around like a fish out of water.”

“But…” Tubbo sniffed, pulling away to wipe away his tears. “But why? How?”

“You sounded like you were in physical pain, I was worried. Can’t have a tribute dead before they even get to the arena, you know. Would really throw off the whole schedule.” Phil half-joked as he looked down at the mattress, not being able to meet Tubbo’s eyes at that moment. Tubbo’s gaze was focused on his mentor.

“Why’d you help me, we just met today for like two seconds at most-”

“It doesn’t really matter that much, I was just passing by-!” Phil dismissed quickly before Tubbo’s tone got more serious.

“Phil, if you’re going to be my Mentor you’ve gotta at least tell me the truth. I need you to tell me the absolute truth when it comes to this because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, what I’m up against, how I’m even supposed to survive, but you do. I need you if I ever stand even a chance of getting home. Please.” Phil let out a frustrated sigh.

“You reminded me of my son, that’s all. When he used to be a tribute.” Phil said, looking toward the ground. “He’d have nightmares, he was so scared but I told him I’d never leave his side, so when he got picked I went with him as his Mentor.” Phil sucked on his cheek. “I thought that if I went with him, talked him through it, got every single sponsor I could, he’d…” Phil sighed. “I just didn’t want for you to have to deal with the nightmare alone, no one should have to handle everything alone.” Moving off his bed, he looked over. “I’ll be across the hall, okay?”

“Oh...Okay.” Tubbo said, nodding. “Thanks.”

Phil nodded back as he turned and Tubbo saw Phil’s hand move toward his chest quickly, was he putting his hand over his heart or something…? As Phil moved toward the door, one question stood on Tubbo’s mind, he bit his lip for a moment, considering.

“Phil, wait-!” Phil turned around, and Tubbo saw Phil’s hand wrap around a necklace of some kind he didn’t notice before, in the shape of a heart. “Did… did he survive? Your son?”

A tense silence followed.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Phil said. “No more questions, you need to get some sleep.”

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y0itsbri · 3 years

Text

it's pizza night at the gallagher-milkovich household!

word count: 2k

usually they order a couple pizzas from some local joint: thin crust chicago supreme for ian and deep dish meat lovers for mickey, though they steal pieces of each others' all the time (even if mickey has to pick off all the onions from ian's chicago supreme.)

but tonight ian wanted to do something different. the tomatoes and bell peppers from the garden were finally looking ripe. ian, with his green thumb, had spent most of spring and summer nurturing a row of plants in the community garden of their apartment complex. mickey had thought it was boring as fuck at first when nothing seemed to be changing, but eventually seeing the plants shoot up and seeing ian excited about all the new growth gave him a paternal kick somewhere from deep inside him. he even found himself wondering how the plants were holding up after a particularly bad thunderstorm one night. for fuck's sake -- was he a plant dad now? when the fuck did this happen?

and if they were going to make their own pizzas with ian's fresh vegetables, they sure as hell weren't going to cut any corners with the store-bought dough. though mickey would never admit it, he was getting pretty good at baking, which was something ian was both a little jealous and very proud of. at this point, mickey was basically a pro specifically at making orange cranberry bread (which ian had become immediately hooked on for a few weeks after jill brought over a loaf as a 'sorry-my-boyfriend-pissed-off-mickey' gift) and also at his favorite peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (mickey has such a sweet tooth, and ian has no idea how he hasn't had more cavities.) surely pizza dough couldn't be too much different than the rest of mickey's pretty impressive baking skills.

after work wednesday evening, mickey emerged from the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist. he peeked out into the living room expecting to see ian zombified on the couch with the usual two boxes of pizza balanced across his legs. however, mickey was thrown off a bit as he spotted ian behind the kitchen counter rummaging through cabinets, occasionally opening the fridge, and proudly wearing his "i like to get high (quality ingredients)" apron, which had been a very appropriate birthday gift from lip.

"what's with all the ruckus in here, big bang," mickey teased. ian's wild eyes calmed a beat after they had finally noticed mickey standing in the doorframe. he checked out his husband up and down once over as a mischievous smile blossomed on his face.

"it's a surprise, but i'm gonna need you to put some clothes on," ian announced, even though his darkening eyes were saying quite the opposite.

mickey was rather hungry and curious about the shitstorm of a mess in the kitchen, so he decided not to push his luck with ian's lustful gaze and instead obediently turned around to pull on some sweatpants while mumbling something about "can't be too good of a surprise if i have to put on clothes." ian smirked from behind him.

mickey swaggered back to the kitchen wearing one of ian's old rotc t-shirts, hoping it would get enough of a rise out of ian for him to enthusiastically take it off late in the night. as if ian needed a reason.

"alright, alright, tough guy. what's the big surprise?"

ian slid his arm around mickey's waist and pulled them flush together as they stared at the array of ingredients sprawled out.

"Pizza," he stated as if it were a simple fact.

mickey's brow furrowed. there clearly wasn't any pizza on the counter. "where's the fuckin' pizza? or did you get too high," he teased, poking at ian's apron.

"ha. ha. very funny, babe. just high quality ingredients, remember?" ian winked and mickey smirked, musing at his dork. when mickey didn't counter him again ian cleared his throat and continued, "no, but for real. ya know how i've been growing vegetables in the garden here?"

mickey nodded. as if he could forget.

"well, for pizza night i was thinking that we could make our own with some of the vegetables and i was hoping," he dragged out the word and squeezed mickey's waist, "that you would make the dough, seeing that you're the star baker of the house."

mickey rolled his eyes. he didn't know where ian got the impression that he was the next best thing to a professional baker when he would usually just take the easy way out. especially when he was hungry and it came to pizza night. but he was secretly very excited to try the food that ian had spent so much time cultivating.

"yeah, man, let's get it." mickey leaned over the counter to turn the bluetooth speaker on and connect his phone, 'wait by the river' by lord huron playing. he grinned as he allowed ian to slide his hand down his arm and lace their fingers as they swayed together for a moment before pulling away and promptly getting to work on food prep.

ian hummed while he washed and chopped the vegetables, occasionally making comments about how he can't believe how colorful they are or how they had grown from nothing. mickey entertained his comments while he made the dough, "well not quite nothing. there was the seed and the sunlight and the shitty ass soil and you watered it a bunch and stuff. all that love ain't nothing." ian warmly smiled at how casually his husband talked about all forms of love now.

once everything was cleaned and diced and the dough was divided into two equal slabs, they got to shaping their crusts. mickey, being the little shit that he is, had extra flour on his hands and wiped some across ian's cheek. he took off behind the counter and into the living room before ian was able to even get out an agitated "what the fuck, mick!" ian was soon on his heels though and tackled him into the couch, wrestling and straddling him and pinning mickey's arms above his head with one hand and smearing flour from his own hand across mickey's cheek as he struggled.

"payback's a bitch," ian teased through his fits of laughter as mickey's face was twisted up in utter disgust, "oh c'mon, mick, can't take it?"

"you know exactly what i can take, asshole," mickey wiggled his eyebrow as he grumbled lowly. ian's face dropped in complete shock as he was taken off guard, and his grip loosened. mickey used that moment of weakness to flip ian off of him and straighten up his shirt as he stood, no mind to the floured handprints placed haphazardly all over himself, and definitely not entirely from his own hands.

"great, so pizza, then?" he smiled over his shoulder at a disheveled ian as he went to go shape the dough, innovatively using a can of beans as a rolling pin.

ian joined him behind the counter and smacked his ball of dough. "hmm"ed and paused. mickey turned to investigate the curious glint in ian's eye when he heard and felt a similar smack on his own ass.

"oh my fucking god, ian. we're never going to get anything done. i'm fucking starving," he groaned.

"as if you didn't start it!"

mickey paused for a moment. sure, fine, yeah. ian had a point with this one, "whatever." he poked ian in the side and then turned back to his pizza. after they were rolled out enough, ian picked up the spoon to put sauce on.

"nah, man! what the fuck are you doing?" mickey snapped, more with urgency than actual agitation, "we gotta cook them for a little bit first before putting all the shit on there, ya know?"

ian put his hands up in innocence and slowly backed away from both the pizzas and the oven, "my bad, chef, carry on."

mickey flipped him off before slipping the two crusts into the oven for a couple minutes. while they waited, ian picked up mickey's phone and pulled up a youtube compilation video of gordon ramsay 'critiquing' his chefs.

"hey mick, this is you in the kitchen."

they watched for a couple minutes as ian laughed his ass off.

"oh fuck off, you'd burn the place down without me," mickey retorted, carefully pulling the crusts out of the oven. ian just rolled his eyes and resumed playing the music from a spotify playlist that mickey totally did not have named 'date night🥀.'

they took turns spooning sauce with chunks of fresh tomato onto their half baked crusts and then sprinkled on some grated cheese and pepperoni, which they had picked up at the farmer's market on their last trip with a couple of the women in their complex they had accidentally befriended.

as much as mickey ate like a broke college kid when he was left to fend for himself most days, he really didn't mind vegetables (except for fucking onions -- those could rot in hell.) despite this, ian still looked on astonished as mickey piled on the veggies just as much as his pepperoni. that was really saying something.

mickey glanced up, "what, popeye? like you're the only one that gets to enjoy the shit from the garden? i gotta taste for myself all the hype that went into this!"

a look of pure adoration flashed across ian's face as he laid a smooch on mickey's forehead. mickey's felt fucking butterflies in his stomach. he thought that being married to the guy would make those feelings simmer down, but as if it was even possible, the flames burned even stronger.

as they waited for their pizzas to cook in the oven for the final time, they giggled like lovestruck teenagers as they wiped the flour off of each others' faces, making an even bigger mess than they started with, as mickey's hair was now dripping wet. they then cleaned off the countertops and packed the extra ingredients in some blue-lidded tupperware set that debbie had recommended.

ian got two beers out of the fridge, "special occasion," he reasoned. mickey scoffed. as if they needed a reason to get fucking smashed.

soon the pizzas were done, and only slightly burnt at the edges, "adds flavor," mickey reasoned. as if anything mickey actually put effort into cooking would be less than perfect.

ian sliced the warm pizzas as mickey grabbed a couple plates, pausing in his steps to not-so-subtly stare at his husband's biceps flex with the force of the pizza slicer.

they didn't even bother to put on a tv show in the background as they ate. mickey's phone was still playing some chill, lowkey romantic music, and they were just excited to dig in. at this point mickey was fucking starving. mickey quite literally moaned as he took his first bite. ian snapped his head to stare daggers at mickey, watching his throat intently.

"shiiiit. that good, huh?" ian murmured.

all mickey could manage to do was nod as he swallowed.

"might have to do this more often," ian suggested as he took a bite of his own slice. shit. this was good.

"good job growing this shit, man," mickey praised through a mouthful. he swallowed, then added on teasingly, but actually oh-so-serious, "might wanna try growing some mary jane next year if you keep it up with your green ass thumb."

"sure, mick." ian took a sip of his beer. ian would agree to anything mickey would ask of him right now, tipsy on both his beer and his fondness of his husband. as if he could read his mind, mickey reached his hand out to rest on ian's thigh, squeezing once before resting it there for the remainder of dinner.

they finished off the beers and pizzas in bliss, leaving the dishes near the sink to be tomorrow's problem. they didn't even make it out of the kitchen before ian started to tug on the hems of mickey's shirt.

#a portrait of dumbass domestic bliss #yes it was pizza night at my house tonight #i have nothing against onions unlike our dearest mick #they have a pizza slicer but not a rolling pin - priorities #my posts #shameless #gallavich #shameless headcanon #gallavich headcanon #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #fic #fanfiction #ian x mickey #ian x mickey fanfiction

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satsuma-saturn · 4 years

Text

Why Do I Love You? - Asmodeus x Reader

A/N: I’ve been writing this for way too fucking long lmao. I’ve never written smut before, so this isn’t the best, but I tried. It’s also been a hot min since I’ve posted a fic. Hope y’all enjoy. Requests are also still open, if anyone’s interested.

WC: 2215

Warning(s): nsfw content, oral sex (m), angst (ya gotta squint to see it lmao), slightly graphic details of violence (no actual violence), slight description of the feeling of drowning, but no actual drowning.

fic below the cut .3.

Love is a dangerous game, especially the kind of love where you feel as though your lungs are filling with water, your chest being crushed from pressure. Still, love can make you feel alive, reviving and bringing new life to you. Call it a gamble, a game of chance. Many avoid love, not wanting to play a game they’re gonna lose.

Asmodeus has been alive for so long that he doesn’t even remember how long he’s been in existence. Over the course of his long life, he has had many lovers, who have all come and gone at one point or another. Yet, with each and every one of those lovers, it wasn’t love, but lust. The demon is well versed and knowledgeable with the concept of lust, being the Avatar of Lust. It’s all he knows. Of course, he’s okay with it, as he doesn’t need to love anyone to be adored by all. In fact, it’s not something he often thinks about, since he is the Avatar of Lust, not the Avatar of Love. Everyone will love him no matter what he says or does. At least, that’s what he believed. Was it possible for anyone to not grovel at his feet, lusting after him? Often, he finds himself reassuring himself that, no, it was not possible for someone to not love him. He is perfect.

When the human first arrived in the Devildom, of course he was intrigued. New blood, someone he could add to his body count, so to speak. It had been quite a while since he’d been in contact with a human, other than Solomon, the shady sorcerer. Frustration consumed him as he learned that the human isn’t susceptible to his Charm, which is known to charm even the strongest-willed witches and wizards. How can an ordinary human with no magic whatsoever remain unaffected by his Charm? Still, it’s never deterred him. He is known to be persistent, and won’t stop until he can get the human in his bed and gain their affection. The human is realistic, honest with him. Something he isn’t used to. Everyone has always been so quick to shower him with praise, complimenting his face, fashion, body, skills in bed, whatever. They don’t worship him, unlike his partners in the past. Despite that, he always finds himself wanting to hear the human’s thoughts and opinions on everything about him.

Butterflies fill his stomach at the thought of the human, something he isn’t sure he’s felt before. Why should he care about someone who doesn’t think he’s the best creature in existence? When the human disagrees with him, he finds himself getting frustrated, throwing makeup brushes and lotion bottles around his room. When he calms down, he reluctantly picks them up, wanting to keep his room immaculate, but not wanting to actually clean his own mess. Yet, he keeps going back to them, only for them to be swept away by one of his meddling brothers, Mammon in particular? He doesn’t understand why they would want to even be in the presence of that greedy scumbag. Too many times, he’s had to complain to Lucifer about some of his more expensive skin or hair care products going missing.

Placing his hand on the table next to the human, he leans toward them with a small grin on his face. Their eyebrows raise in a question, as if asking what do you want? He’s getting to that. Be patient, human. “So, I went shopping with Mammon the other day and I bought tons of new lotions and oils. I was wondering if you wanted to try them with me? Of course you do, what am I saying? Who wouldn’t want an excuse to hang out with me?” With a small sigh that he chooses to ignore, they stand up to follow him to his room. Excited, he practically skips to his room, the human in tow.

Upon reaching his room, he wraps his fingers around the doorknob and pulls it open, stepping inside to sit on his bed. The human follows, shutting the door behind them. “Oh?~ Naughty human,” he says, a glint of mischief in his eyes. They just sigh and settle on the bed, not too far, but not close enough. That’s okay, he’ll just close the distance. Scooting over, he reaches over to his nightstand, where he had set his lotions in preparation for the human arriving home from Hell’s Kitchen, where they’d gone with Beel.

“You’re annoying,” they say, rolling their eyes at him.

“Ah, but you love it~” He coos, snapping open the lid of one of the many lotions, squeezing a dollop of the cream into his hand. “C’mere.” The demon gestures to the human, rubbing the lotion onto their skin when they oblige. “This lotion will make your skin so soft~ And it makes you smell absolutely delicious~” His voice drips with seduction, tempting the human to let their guard down. To let him in.

“It does smell pretty good,” they admit, watching Asmodeus massage their hands with his slender fingers. A fanged smile appears on the demon’s face as he works, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on their palms. Once he’s finished, he lets go of their hands, reaching for the lotion bottle once more. Maybe it’s some Devildom magic, but the lotion seems to be working immediately, the human notes to themselves, feeling the soft flesh of their hands.

Humming, Asmodeus massages the lotion into his own hands, watching the human out of the corner of his eye. Just watching them, he feels the urge to pounce on them, ‘helping’ them give into their darkest desires. Unfortunately for him, his Charm doesn’t seem to have an effect on them, which is irritating, to say the least. What made them so powerful that they, an ordinary human being, could resist the temptation of the Avatar of Lust? He was curious, really. Curious to crack open their head and discover what’s inside. Amongst the blood and brain matter, he was sure to find something. The source of their power, maybe. Though he would never actually hurt the human, just the thought of the sickening crack of a skull got him excited, his pants becoming a little too tight. No, he could never hurt them. They mean too much to him. Hell, he can even go as far as saying that he loves them.

“Dude, what the fuck?” The human’s voice draws him from his reverie. Their eyes are a little too focused on his growing erection, he notices. “Are you getting hard from putting on lotion?’

“No. I just love you so much~,” he croons, his tone dark, sending a shiver down the human’s spine. Was the shiver from fear from his sudden mood change, or was it lust? His question is soon answered when the human slides off the bed, slipping in between his legs. They look so pretty on their knees, though it isn’t too often that he gets to see them in that position. The sight excites him.

Looking down at the human kneeling between his legs, he runs his fingers through their hair, as they rest their hands on his clothed thighs. His breath catches in his throat as he stares down at them, their eager eyes shining brightly back at him. Pink eyes follow the human’s hands as it inches closer to his crotch. He swallows thickly as their fingers latch onto the zipper of his pants, pulling it down, all while making eye contact with him. Their eyes are darkened with lust. For some reason, he feels a sudden pang of anxiety, but the routine is the same as it always is. The human notices and pauses, their eyes filling with concern.

“Are you okay, Asmo?” They ask, their voice soft, filling him with a new warmth.

Shaking his head, he swallows again and replies, “No, it’s okay. You can keep going.” As an afterthought, he adds another sentence to his reply, “Only if you want to, of course.”

“I want to.” Their eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting...strange.”

His signature grin creeps onto his face. Is he okay? No. Is he going to pretend that he is? Yes. “Of course, sweetheart. You’re always so concerned about me,” he says, a giggle bubbling from his throat as his manicured fingers brush the human’s cheek. “And I’m not strange! You’re so cruel to me!” A fake pout spread across his lips as he teased the human seated between his legs.

He squeals as the human smacks his inner thigh. “I’m not cruel. You’re just sensitive.” They stick out their tongue at him and he goes to bite it, but they’re quick to reel it back in. “Don’t bite me, you toad.”

“C’mon,” he whines. “Just do what you came here to do and suck me off! I need you right now~” He palms himself through his pants, impatient.

“You’re so whiny,” they remark, smacking his hands away so that they can pull down his pants. He huffs, but doesn’t reply, just closing his eyes instead. Once his pants are down, he feels their hands on him, feeling him through his boxers. A small groan escapes his lips as he opens his eyes to look down at them. They're just a simple human. How could they have enraptured him in the manner that they did? The demon of Lust, pinned under the thumb of a weak, powerless human.

Grinning up at him, they shimmy his boxers down his legs, allowing his hardened cock to spring free from its confinements. A bead of precum oozes from the reddened tip. The human swipes their thumb along the demon’s slit, collecting the precum on the digit. They lick their thumb, looking him in the eyes the whole time. He shudders, the human’s actions exciting him.

Slowly, they lick along his length, starting from the base, slicking it in their saliva. They’ve barely done anything, but he’s putty in their hands, twitching and groaning softly. “You’re so sensitive,” they say, pausing their ministrations to blow on his tip, feeling a shudder wrack through his body. He bucks his hips lightly as they wrap their lips around his tip, giving it a soft suck. Annoyed, they pull away, sitting back on their heels.

“I’m sorry! I’ll be a good boy, I promise!” He whines, trying to slip his cock back between their lips.They’re stubborn, though, and seal their lips shut. “C’mon~ Please?” Seeing that they’re not going to give in so easily, he pulls back, starting to stroke himself, using the human’s drying saliva and his own precum as a lubricant. His hand slides up and down the length of his cock with ease and he can see the human in front of him, watching.

After watching him for a few seconds, they nudge his hand away, replacing it with their own. Asmodeus whimpers softly as their hand glides along his length. The whimpers turn to moans when they start teasing his slit with their tongue. Warmth encases his cock as the human takes him in their mouth, sucking as they slide more of him into their mouth. His hips buck again, and he can feel the human gagging and trying to keep his hips still. Their gagging just turns him on more, making him want to fuck their mouth until he cums. Yet doesn’t, allowing them to keep control of the situation. He’ll be the perfect pillow prince for them. Maybe they’ll even fuck him, if he’s a good boy.

His fingers comb through their hair as they suck him off, gently pulling them further down his cock, feeling their throat clench around the intrusion. They gag again, focusing on breathing through their nostrils. He isn’t going to last long, he can feel it. Their throat is just so warm and tight.

Not too long after, he reaches his breaking point, spilling down their throat without warning. They pull away, wiping saliva and cum off their face. He stares silently at them for a few seconds, before grabbing them and pulling them up towards his bed. His human is so beautiful and he wants to show them how much he loves them, but they pull away, shaking their head.

“No, this isn’t about me. I just wanted to help you out,” they explain, making their way to the door. “This lotion smells really nice, by the way.” The door opens and Asmodeus starts to speak, causing them to pause briefly in the doorway, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“I love you,” he says. His eyes widen as he realizes what he just said, but it’s too late to take it back.

“I love you too, Asmodeus,” they reply, shutting the door behind him. Their response stuns him into silence, though he wants to call them back in.

But why do I love you?, he wonders to himself. Why now? After centuries of only loving himself, why does he love someone else? Loving someone else adds unnecessary complications to his life. For his whole existence, he’s worn his heart on his cheek, not on his sleeve. The bitter taste of defeat lingers in his mouth as he stares at his door that the human had just left through.

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

Tipsy Confessions (Darrell “Shifty” Powers x f!Reader)

So based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic because I love it!

Warnings: None...just Shifty cuteness.

Words:3200

Tag list: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m

He looked down the barrel of his M1 Garand rifle, lining up the sight with the target at the end of the shooting range. The noise of his fellow paratroopers drifted away to blessed silence. There was something for him when lining up his shot, everything else seemed to fade away. The world narrowed down to himself, his rifle and the target. The faint breeze kissed his cheek and made the ends of his hair sway. Shifting the rifle just slightly, he accommodated for the wind. Finally, he was ready. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, hold, squeeze…

Bang!

"Nice shot, Shifty."

Darrell "Shifty" Powers looked up at the target, an almost perfect bullseye, just a little to the left, then over to his friend standing nearby. "Thanks, Popeye."

"Can we head back now?" Floyd Talbert asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Why? You gotta brush your hair or somethin'?" Popeye Wynn teased.

"That's why I get all the dames at the dances and you don't."

"Come on, lectures will start soon." Smoky Gordon stated good-naturedly, then he pointed at Talbert. "And you owe me a pack of smokes. Told you Shifty could hit the target."

"You said bullseye, not just hit the target."

"Well, he did it."

Talbert grumbled but dug the pack out of his pocket and tossed it to a smirking Gordon.

Bang!

Shifty looked over his shoulder in the direction of the gunshot. He thought they were the only ones there. This was his favorite time to practice since everyone else was either at the mess hall or relaxing in their barracks. Usually he came alone but today Popeye decided to keep him company and then from there Gordon joined them, dragging Talbert along.

To his surprise, he saw you a few lanes over, laying on your belly, rifle set in front of you with your finger still on the trigger. The ODs they gave you were just a one or two sizes too big, thus your sleeves and pant legs were rolled up a few times. Somehow you still pulled the look off well. Instead of looking like a child playing dress up in too large clothes, you looked…. well…. good.

Talbert gave a low whistle. "She's a good shot, I'll give her that."

"Even if she arrived with Hitler's head in a sack, Sobel would still hate her." Gordon stated, watching you closely.

"And Guarnere."

Another shot rang out and Shifty would easily admit...he was impressed. Not because you were a dame and knew how to shoot a gun. His mother would string him up sideways for thinking something like that. No, the distance you were shooting at...most of the soldiers did not even try it. Only himself and a few others shot that far with any accuracy.

And you were dead on.

Finally you stood up, slinging the rifle over your shoulder when you noticed the four men staring at you. He could see the hesitation in your usually guarded expression. You had only joined Easy Company once they arrived in Camp Mackall. Sink thought your connections and resources in Europe would prove invaluable to the paratroopers. Unfortunately, by that point, most of the men had bonded and were not looking to add an outsider...especially a woman. Even worse, you spent most of your time with Intelligence so the men could never get a good read on you.

"Hey, doll," Talbert called, a flirtatious smirk lighting up his face, "you going to be a sniper for Easy?"

You moved a little closer, head held high and shoulders back. “If the need arises...and that's Lieutenant to you, not doll."

"Yes, ma'am."

Your gaze moved his way, eyes assessing with just a look that seemed to see more than they let on. "Are you Private Powers?"

"Ah, everyone calls me Shifty, ma'am."

"You're an excellent shot. If you have the time, I'd appreciate some pointers from you. I'm better with a pistol."

He could feel the blush rising on his cheeks. "It's not a problem, ma'am. I'm… I'm not sure how I can help though. You're an excellent shot yourself."

Your lips turned upward at the corners but you just shrugged. "Thank you, but there's always room to improve."

"How good are you with a pistol?" Talbert asked, gaze skimming over you. "Think you can hit that target?"

The target he pointed at was only about five yards away, any paratrooper was expected to hit at that distance. It was almost an insult to think you could not.

And the look on your face after he asked...you definitely took it as an insult.

Without removing your eyes from Talbert's grinning face, you pulled the pistol off your hip, pointed at the target and unloaded it.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

"Have a good day, boys. Shifty, I hope we can talk soon." You stated, switching from staring down Talbert to a small smile at Shifty. Then you stomped away, reholstering the pistol, rifle still slung over your shoulder.

Shifty's gaze moved to the target and froze. All six shots were in the center of the bullseye...which you had shot at without looking.

"Tab, you better not piss her off. She don't even have to look at you to kill you." Popeye japed.

Shifty's eyes darted back to your retreating form in awe. He had never met a woman like you before. And damn, if watching you shoot did not do something to him.

"Oh, now that's a knockout." He softly said, unable to tear his eyes from you. Never mind him giving you pointers, he wondered what you could teach him!

"Yeah, yeah. She can shoot." Tab muttered, turning to head back into camp.

"You're just mad she showed more interest in Shifty than you." Gordon joked then screeched when Talbert hit him upside his head.

Shifty ignored their taunts as the group walked back towards their barracks. He found you beautiful, any man with eyes could see you were attractive. But watching you shoot, that focused look on your face and the confidence you held...that was going to be a problem for him, he could already tell.

Especially with the way he kept having to readjust his pants so the others would not notice the effect you had on him.

*****

"You're starin' again."

"Mmm?" Shifty blinked, it took a long minute for his friend's words to sink into his brain. When they finally resonated, he practically jumped in his seat, face turning red. "What? No, no, I'm not."

"You're starin' at her like Perconte when he sees garlic bread." Popeye stated, clearly amused if the shit-eating grin said anything.

"What?" Perconte yelled further down the table.

"Nothin', Frank! Wasn't talkin' to you!"

An argument broke out with Perconte demanding to know why Popeye said his name. Shifty only half listened, his gaze drifting back to you across the mess hall. You were facing away from him, talking with some of Easy's officers.

It had been several weeks since the encounter at the shooting range. Since then whenever you were around, he became a bumbling mess. He stumbled over his words, a blush continuously heated his face, a couple times he tripped when you would casually touch his shoulder or arm. Yet the whole time you were kind and patient with him, ignoring his awkwardness. Or at least he hoped so. A few times the two of you would find the other at the range and shoot together, giving one another pointers or creating silly competitions. It was during this that he realized he was falling for you.

Hard.

Like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute and feeling gravity control one's descent as if that person was just along for the ride.

It did not take long for the others to notice how his gaze was always on you when you were nearby. How his brain ceased to function properly as if you were all he could focus on. How he would go out of his way to try and say hi to you every day. The dopey smile on his face when you smiled or laughed, even if you were across the room.

And thus, the teasing began.

One of the more embarrassing moments was when Sobel was leading a strategy practice in the woods, quickly getting everyone killed from his impatience. Shifty, you and two others were forced to be left behind as wounded while everyone else tramped back to the rendezvous point. During those hours of laying in the grass, you and him, lying next to each other, began a quiet, running dialogue telling stories from your lives. Who taught you to shoot, what you were doing before the war, favorite foods, ect.

Once the four of you were relieved and allowed to return to the rendezvous point, you broke away to return to your separate barracks to clean up. When Shifty returned to 3rd Platoon, they immediately teased him about his rumpled clothing, the grass in his hair and if he remembered to wear a condom when you two….

He still blushed thinking about some of the graphic things they said.

Not that his mind had not enjoyed picking up those images and replaying them in his dreams.

*****

He was drunk.

Or at least tipsy.

A part of him knew going out was a bad idea. He never drank. Just did not like the taste of beer. It always sat like lead in his gut. But at the moment, he did not care.

Easy celebrated the fact that they were moving on from Camp Mackall soon. One step closer to be official paratroopers. One step closer to war. Drinks were flowing, some even found local women to dance with in the bar. Glenn Miller crooned over the radio. Sobel was gone on a forced weekend pass. Everyone was in high spirits.

Shifty sat at a table with a few others from Easy, listening to Luz tell some story...and he kept giggling.

Giggling!

Popeye was giving him an amused side-eye as he sipped his own beer. They all knew Shifty did not drink. Sure, he got teased about it but most respected it. For a very specific reason tonight when someone offered him a beer, he took it. And then another. And another.

He felt sort of floaty as he sat there. Everything was funny. His head was spinning slightly but it did not ache. That was good, right? He could still see straight...mostly. He was beginning to see why the others drank often.

When he looked around the bar, he finally spotted what had made him start drinking. You reclined at a table talking to Lt Winters and Lt Nixon, which was unsurprising. What was different was the dress you wore. It molded to you in sinful ways and dear God! he almost swallowed his tongue when you walked into the bar. Between that dress, the red lipstick and victory rolls in your hair, he swore even sunrises were jealous of your beauty. Others definitely noticed, a few buying you drinks but you refused to dance with anyone. A comradery had finally developed between you and the men of Easy, most accepted your presence and the intelligence you provided. Plus, your marksmanship added points and willingness to take the brunt of Sobel's verbal abuse.

You laughed at something Nixon said, head tipped back and a hand on your chest. A sappy smile grew on Shifty's face as he watched your joy radiate. He loved seeing you smile and laugh. Even if he was not the cause of it, he liked you being happy. You had the ability to make even the gloomiest day seem like the peak of summer sunshine.

Excusing yourself from the table, you started towards the outside door. With a bright smile, you redirected slightly and stopped at his table before passing it.

"You boys having a good time?"

A chorus of "yeahs" answered from those around.

"So, when are you going to admit you're in love with me?" Talbert asked, cigarette between his lips. Over the past weeks, he shamelessly flirted with you, even more than Luz but everyone knew it was done jokingly and when superior officers were not around.

"Mmm...the same time Sobel admits he has a hidden stash of pornography in his footlocker."

Malarkey's chair dropped back down onto its four legs as he gaped at you. "And how in the hell would you know that?"

You just winked. "Well, I'm off. Have a good evening, boys."

As you stepped away, Shifty found himself stumbling to his feet to catch up. "Y/n, ma'am."

You stopped, turning to watch him as he approached your side. There was no plan, no rationale in his following you. It was almost instinctual. He wanted to be near you...to hear you laugh again...be graced with one of your brilliant smiles. Now though, as you stood in front of him, waiting for him to speak, his brain sluggishly tried to come up with a reason for him to be near you.

"I'll walk you back if you like. It’s...you...you shouldn't walk 'round alone none." His words tumbled out, somewhat coherently in his rush so he was not just awkwardly staring at you.

You smiled, your face lighting up. "Thanks, Shifty."

A giggle escaped him and he practically felt his heart splatter on the floor at your feet. You were so beautiful and looking at you made him feel warm inside. Or was that the alcohol?

A few wolf whistles follow you both out but he did not pay attention. He floated walking next to you...or felt like he did. He was unsure. His boots caught on a rock and he stumbled faintly but tried to play it off. For some reason the ground swayed just enough under his feet. It reminded him of the floating dock in the next town over from his home, how it was stable yet unsteady. The stars were really pretty tonight. Not as pretty as you. Oops...he stumbled again and a giggle slipped out.

"Are you well?"

"Ah?" He looked over at you, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes scanning him as if for an injury. "Yes, yes." He giggled out. Why would he be injured? No more Currahee!

And then he tripped, almost landing on his face if you had not caught his arm.

"Stop. Stop. Look at me." You moved to stand in front of him, placing your hands on his chest to hold him still.

Your touch sent an electric current through him. It sharpened the warmth of your hands on his chest, how good they felt there. How your breath ghosted over his face as you peered at him. How close your bodies were. No one could ever compare to you. His feelings, his affections, bubbled up inside of him like a champagne bottle after being shaken, threatening to explode.

But he could not say anything. No! It would be wrong. So wrong. Not right. You were a superior officer...and... just incredible.

"Shifty, are you-"

"I like you. " He suddenly blurted out. The cork of the champagne bottle finally popping off.

You tipped your head to the side, watching him. Your hands still on his chest, still so close to him. Your eyes seemed to draw him in and he did not have the strength to escape their current, pulling secrets and truths from him.

Before he could stop it, his mouth disconnected from his brain and went on autopilot. Secrets and thoughts spilled out he had never told anyone. "I think youse beautiful and strong and an amazin' shot...and... I like you but not like...I like Popeye or Gordon or Lipton, no. I like-like you... like I want to kiss you and hear you laugh. But I can't tell you cos youse an officer and you would just laugh at me. I love watchin' you shoot. Rogers says you have a great ass but that don't matter to me cos, well truth is, I think I--"

You slapped a hand over his mouth, clogging the outpouring of words. "Are you drunk?"

He shook his head then changed his mind and nodded. Christ, he hoped he was drunk. Maybe you would ignore his ramblings then. Oh, what had he done? What happened? If he suddenly sprinted away, could he somehow hide from you for the rest of the war and he could pretend this never happened?

"Right. Here's what we are going to do." You tapped his chest with your pointer finger, drawing his attention back to you and ceasing his inner panic. "I am going to walk you to your barracks so you can sleep this off. After everything you just said, if you still feel this way in the morning, I want you to tell me all this when you are sober. Since I like-like you too. If not, then you owe me breakfast in exchange for my silence, jerk, and we'll never speak of this again." You smiled, other hand still on his mouth. "Nod if you agree."

He did not think he ever agreed to anything so quickly in his entire life.

"Good, let's get you back now." You pulled your hand away from his mouth and slipped it around his arm. Together you two walked, arm in arm, towards his barracks.

Shifty still felt like he was floating on air. For more than one reason.

*****

A few hours later, just as the sun was rising, he stood outside the barrack you were staying at. Practically bouncing on his toes, he knocked on the wooden door. Thankfully you stayed there alone since there were no other female paratroopers. You opened the door wearing an oversized shirt and gym shorts, hair amess and a sleepy smile on your face.

"I still think you are the most beautiful woman and I like-like you a lot." He exclaimed without preamble...and then paused. "And I'm sober."

"I like you too, Shifty."

A stupid grin spread across his face, cheeks warming up but he did not mind for once. "Can... can I... hug you, ma'am?"

You laughed lightly before grabbing the front of his ODs and yanking him inside, slamming the door behind him. Before he could utter a word, you pushed him against the closed door and slammed your lips against his, your hands gripping his ODs tightly.

Oh.

Oh!

This was much better than a hug.

Cupping your face, he returned the kiss fervently. He sank into your mouth, loving the feel of you pressed against him, how everything seemed to fade away and your touch and taste were all that mattered. You deepened the kiss, your tongue slipping into his mouth. If you did not have him pinned to the door, his knees would have given out. His hands slipped to the back of your head, tangling in your hair. Your tongues fought for dominance, which he would gladly let you win if only you did not stop. But it was when you whispered his name against his mouth that he almost came undone right there.

Finally you broke apart, desperate for air. Both of your chests heaving like you had been sprinting up Currahee. Staring into your face, your pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen; he decided he liked this even more than watching you shoot. Then he dove back into your mouth with unbridled passion, wanting to test how good your accuracy was in other ways.

Yes, this was much better than a hug.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #ww2 #world war 2 #shifty powers #shifty powers x reader #darrell powers #mzwrites

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sparrowofsong · 4 years

Text

The Water Damage After The Storm

What a Nightmare! - Prologue

Summary: Ethan (Deceit) has been rather reclusive after recent events, the details of which are a mystery to the other sides. Worried for his well-being, Patton attempts to talk to him and find out what’s going on. He does get a few hints, but they’re really really not great.

Characters: Deceit and Patton. All sides are sympathetic for the whole story.

Warnings: Vague-ish flashbacks with mentions of violence, blood, abuse, and general Bad Things of that nature. Refusal to eat (lmk if i should tag as eating disorder, not sure). Let me know if there’s anything else I should add!

Word Count: 1k-ish

Author’s Note: GUYS. I DID IT. I FINALLY STARTED THE AU I’VE BEEN GOING ON ABOUT FOR T W O M O N T H S

For those who haven’t been putting up with my sporadic concept art and constant excited rambling – What a Nightmare! is an AU where Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts never happened. Deceit and Remus came up with a different plan that,,,, worked! Let’s see how this goes!

Ethan kept his eyes down as he begrudgingly followed Patton into his room, taking a seat at his table. He stared at the small plate of cookies in the center, able to watch Patton sit across from him in his peripheral vision, but refusing to look directly at him.

Why couldn’t they just leave him be? He’d been just fine with spending the last week alone, savoring the silence he’d gone so long without. If he had it his way, he’d still be doing exactly that. It was better than having to face them.

“Would you like one, kiddo?” Patton sounded tentatively hopeful. “I made them just for you.“

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to glance up at him for a second, hoping he could manage to scan his face for any signs of underhanded trickery without-

please no fake evil not real not real beat stab push bruise blood break pain lies lies lies anger fear danger please dont hurt huRT HURT HURT

-regretting it.

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his heart racing as he tried to maintain his composure. He couldn’t stomach a cookie if he tried.

Eventually, he found it in him to respond.

“I’ll pass.“

There was a pause. Silence was more unnerving when he wasn’t alone.

“You… you haven’t eaten in months, kiddo. Not even after you woke up. You didn’t touch anything we sent to your room this whole week.“

Or rather, the spare room they’d created. Everyone had agreed to leave Ethan’s room be after they found him, and he didn’t exactly protest after coming to.

“I understand that you don’t want to talk to us, or see us, and that’s okay. I’m sure you have a good reason.” He took a deep breath to steady his voice. “But I can’t just let you starve to death in there. You’ve gotta regain energy somehow.“

“Is that so?” Ethan scoffed, back to staring at the table. “Pray tell, Patton, when did you suddenly start caring?“

Taken aback by how easily his resentful words slipped out, there was a moment’s pause before his eyes widened in alarm.

dont you fucking dare please youve done enough sorry sorry pain pain blood too much let me go please no no no sorry sorry ill be better ill be better please no please please nO HURT HURT HURT HURT

He immediately snapped his head towards Patton, watching with learned vigilance for annoyance, anger, malice, spite – any potential sign of dangerous intentions.

Decidedly ignoring the sting of regret, Patton sat perfectly still as Ethan observed him. He didn’t dare risk heightening his fear, though he had no clue where it came from. That was why they were there, after all. No one knew what had happened, and with each day Ethan refused to see them, refused to eat, refused to do anything but sit alone in the spare room, their concern grew. Together, they came up with a plan that would, hopefully, get him to open up. Even if only a bit. They just needed something to work with so they could figure out what to do.

So, they brought him to Patton’s room and let the two chat for a bit. Among other things, his room caused them to think and talk about the past, and they’d hoped it would help Ethan do just that. It almost seemed to be working, too; that was the most in-character he’d sounded since the court hearing! However, as Patton watched his fear steadily increase, he was starting to wonder if this was such a good idea.

After a few tense minutes, Ethan realized that, at least for now, no harm would come to him. It wouldn’t have taken this long before. He didn’t completely let his guard down, of course, but he let himself relax a bit, dropping his gaze and continuing to watch Patton from the corner of his eye.

Just to be safe, Patton waited a few more minutes before he broke the silence, answering the question ever so softly.

“I started caring when you helped me remember that I should.”

no no no no knife dead body blood accident cant move get help my fault my fault weak useless murderer monster punish pain sORRY SORRY PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE NO HURT HURT HURT HURT HU RT

“Oh, by all means, let’s discuss exactly what I did to you that day.” Ethan gritted his teeth, trembling hands clenched into fists as he desperately tried to control his rapid, shallow breaths. “It isn’t like I’ve been forced to dwell on it every single day for… how long did you say it was? Seven months?“

Patton winced. This was the most he’d told them about the ordeal, sure, but it was obviously a sore subject. It looked like their plan had a few flaws. "Sorry, kiddo. We don’t have to talk about it. If nothing else, though, I do wanna make sure you know it wasn’t your fault. And I’m not angry, or upset, or anything like that. I know it was an accident.”

Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but stopped dead in his tracks once he fully processed the statement. “…How? How can you possibly be that sure? How much do you even… What do you think you know about any of this?"

"If I’m being honest, not much. We know next to nothing about what happened after we’d forgotten. There’s a few scraps of information about before that, a few details we’d noticed, but…” Without thinking, he reached for the cookies in the center of the table, unintentionally extending his hand towards–

danger danger grab shove beat stab trapped pain lies lies lies break sharp broken broken gold blood hELP PLEASE STOP STOP PLEASE SORRY SORRY SORRY HURT HURT HURT HURT HU RT H U R T

“NO!”

Ethan cried out in alarm, recoiling with enough force to fall out of his chair. Patton jerked his hand back as he rebuked himself for his carelessness, stubbornly gripping his chair to refrain from helping Ethan up. It was now abundantly clear that it would do more harm than good.

His broken facade of composure now thoroughly shattered, Ethan kept his eyes locked on Patton as he picked himself up and backed away. Every step of his retreat was agonizingly slow; despite knowing he could actually escape this time, he still refused to risk further aggravating the perceived threat.

Patton, however, was not aggravated in the slightest. He was horrified.

"I don’t think we’ve got the whole picture at all."

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years

Note

FFT: If I Loved You Less I Could Talk About It More

Hey haii. Soooo.. This is kind of a follow up to the one I answered last night - I know right, it’s about goddamn time. Again, I’m so, so so so so sorry. I really am. - which can be found [ here] if you want to backtrack and read that so this one maaaybe makes sense bc I cannot entirely vouch that it does in fact make sense without the one I just linked above.

I had such a blast writing this and I am kinda v. happy with the way it came out even if it’s just a little weird? I’m starting to dig first person.

TAGGING:

Jon Moxley isn’t a talker by any stretch of the word. He’s more of a doer. The words, without actions behind them, are hollow and meaningless to him.

I’ve known this for a while now. It’s not hard to figure out about him at all. It’s actually kind of obvious and definitely something one can appreciate about the man, when he’s not driving them to the goddamn brink of insanity.

What I can’t figure out is why in the seven blue hells he’s suddenly being so nice to me. Up to our encounter in the elevator a few weeks back? Guy hated me.

I was nothing to him, just some poor little princess trapped in an ivory tower. Or a toy, only meant to be played with. He’s openly said as much on numerous occasions.

Lately, it seems as if everywhere I am, he’s there. Arms crossed, all brooding and angry in some back corner, tapping his foot impatiently or holding up his wrist to indicate passage of time, kind of like some grumpy bodyguard or god forbid, a chaperone... Or sitting ringside, watching whatever match I happen to be in, a smirk on his face the entire time.

Literally no one can get me to themselves because of this... Especially not Maxwell, which believe me, the pathetic prick has actually been dumb enough to try and do, on more than one occasion. You’d think me, throwing the shit he left at my place into the pool below my balcony would’ve been a really clear hint I was absolutely fucking done being his late night booty call. Nope, apparently not.

But back to Mox, though. Mox is the reason I’m torn between anger and sheer unbridled sexual frustration as of late, and here’s why...

I don’t know what bothers me more… the fact that I can’t figure out why he gives a damn, - or if he even does, who knows with that guy? - or the fact that deep down, it secretly turns me on. I’ve never really had someone just… attach themselves to me willingly, for lack of a better term.

But then, tonight… Tonight, Maxwell managed to get me to myself, corner me up backstage.

His eyes darted around the hallway. “Look at this. You drove away your self appointed guard dog. Are you ready to admit you miss all of this, kitten?”

“Did hell freeze over in the last ten minutes, Maxwell?”

“I’m the best you’re gonna have. This bizarre thing you and Mox have going on is just you, passing time. C’mon, kitten. Think about it. Do you really think he’s capable of half the things I could give you?”

“He’s got a cock, so I mean… yeah. Pretty much the only thing you were good for was sex when the batteries to my vibrator died.”

He eyed me. For a split second I smirked because it almost seemed as if I hurt him with my words. I know better than that, but I needed my moment of victory. Then he stepped closer, a hand ghosting down my side. “You know you want me back. You need me, princess.”

“I don’t need anybody, actually.” I corrected, feigning a yawn and rolling my eyes at Maxwell.

“Right, that’s why you’re letting Mox follow you around.” the sour expression on his face as he looked at me was worth a million words. But I rolled my eyes and reminded myself that the only reason he’s even choosing this hill to die on is because I ditched him first and in Maxwell’s mind? That’s a no go.

I know his type well. I was brought up with them. Bunch of mouth breathing elitist bitch boys. I’ve realized since our thing ended that Maxwell -and pretty much any man of his type, they aren’t what I want anymore. I don’t know what I do want, true but… I have a very clearly defined idea of what I don’t want and won’t fuck with or tolerate now.

“No, I’m not letting him do anything, everybody knows Mox does exactly what Mox wants. However, I’m not stopping him, either. Maybe he has me curious. Maybe, Maxwell,” I leaned in a little, lowering my voice and laughing softly as I continued, “Maybe I’m tired of being goddamn bored to death by prissy little bitch ass pretty boys. Besides, in the end, guys like you always leave. Your type are dogs. Always looking to get your dick wet and moving on once you find a sparkly new bitch you can wrap around your finger and bend to your will... Maybe I want more. Something real. Maybe Mox could be that. Maybe, Maxwell.. Maybe I want him. That’s really what burns you up, isn’t it?” I hoped he’d get the point, or get bored, and fuck off and away.

Naturally, he didn’t. And he started to talk himself up all over again. Tried reminding me of his version of our ‘good times.’

I gave an annoyed snort and butted in. “Says the man who refused to take me anywhere. Who insisted we couldn’t be seen together. Why the hell do you think I’d even begin to want you back? Sex was all you could offer and frankly? I’ve had better.”

He swore and glared at me angrily.

“You’re a fucking bitch.”

“May be. But I’m not a dumb bitch anymore, now am I?” I said it in a mock sweet tone, laughing at him as I turned and prepared to walk away.

“I was done with you anyway. I just wanted to give you one last chance to see reason.”

I held up my middle finger at him as I walked away, backwards. When I crashed into someone, I turned around, a glare at the ready.

Mox was smirking down at me. As his eyes roamed my body slowly, I felt something shifting in the dynamic between us. And it hit me then… That stuff I said to Maxwell?

I wasn’t just saying it.

I actually fucking meant it. With every single fibre of my being.

I gulped under his intense round of eye-fucking and i did my best to stay calm. To not be so obvious at the way my thighs clenched and god forbid, remember to breathe. He stepped closer, rough hand grasping at my hip, hauling me against him.

“Did I not tell ya to stay in the fuckin locker room? He only gets to ya because ya fuckin let him, woman. Then again,” Mox muttered in a dry tone, “You’d argue with a fuckin brick wall, I think. Stay here.”

His firm tone didn’t do anything to help out the situation I found myself in currently, dripping wet and so frustrated by what I’d just figured out that I honestly just wanted to shove him against a wall and rip off his clothes.

He eyed me, a brow raised. “The fuck is that little smirk for, huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” I shrugged, giggling.

“Stay here.” he repeated, even more firmly this time, stepping so close to me that he towered over me and our bodies brushed against each other lightly.

Jesus, the way it felt, lightly pressed against him.

He spent a second or two grumbling and glaring, then he turned and stormed off, right through the curtains separating the back of the arena from the front.

It hit me then, MJF had just gone down. Literally just. As in he was still walking down the runway.

Curious, I made my way over to the curtains, pulling them just so that I could peek through a little and when I saw it, I barely restrained a whimper… I could hear every single word Mox said as he lunged at Maxwell from behind.

And it had me fidgeting, pacing the hallway and trying to puzzle out just what the hell was going on the entire time Mox was down in the ring, beating Maxwell’s ass all around it.

Mox stormed back through the curtains and I didn’t think, I just ran. Climbing the man like a tree, dragging my fingers over his close shaven scalp and wrapping my legs around him tight. He growled, nearly dropped me, but I felt his fingertips digging into my body and he staggered back a little, putting my back against the wall.

“This mean you’re ready for a real man, princess?” his voice a low husky growl against my lips as I smirked against his mouth and nodded my head, pressing my forehead against his.

“It took me a while to figure you out, Mox… But now, I think I know exactly what you’re all about. So yes.. to answer your question, maybe I am ready for a real man, Mox.”

“Oh you do, huh? Gonna explain or do I gotta guess?” he smirked back.

“I like it better this way. Actions are better than words. Less talking, Mox. More kissing.” I breathed against his mouth, rubbing myself against him as he carried me towards the door leading out into the arena parking lot...

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fortheloveofkuroo · 4 years

Text

HAIKYUU AU;

Part 1 Part 2

Karasuno boys are having a sleepover in your place, their Manager!

7. Hinata Shouyo

Aweee look at those adorable face TwT

I'm a huge softie for first year tbh like.. WHO DOESN'T.

You know how Hinata supposed to ride his bike trough the mountain for half an hour and nu-uh baby you don't have to do that.

He doesn't mind though, he got his trusty rain coat stored back in his bag.

BUT STILL.

You insist at having the boys staying over night in your house. Watching you and Daichi having an argument it's like watching his parents quarelling.

"What about the others with a far house? Like Hinata, huh?"

DING DING DING! You - 1, Daichi - 0.

Hinata, being the most happy-go-lucky boi he is walks to your house with the most brightest grin.

You two are basically close enough, a lot of the first years really adores you. Because of your motherly side and well, your scary sides sometimes almost scares them more than Daichi's.

But Hinata, boy he is your favorites. He's the most brightest cheerful boy you've ever met and he's just like a baby brother..

To you, at least.

"Na na (Y/n)-senpai, do you have any siblings?" He asked. You nods. "Mhm i have one. He's on junior high. He's about your height." You jokes, knowing so well that Hinata will be pissed about it. And he did, he start complaining and protesting despite the rainy weather.

God you love him so much.

After unlocking the doors, you all entered the house quickly because the weather is just getting more worse. After distributing the towel, you went to bath.

While Hinata and the others busy looking around your house.

"Woaaah.. So this is what a girl's house look like.." he accidentally blurts out his thought. "Well yeah, never see a normal house before?" Tsukishima scoffs.

"Damn it Tsukishima. Shut up!" "Hey don't talk to Tsukki like that!" Yelp Yamaguchi.

After waiting for a bit the boys finally got to shower. Some of the third years showers first so he waits. But his sharp nose picks up something. Something smells delicious. The third years are back from his bath too.

So he follows his instinct and trails the delicious aroma and he ended up in Kitchen. He was about to walk past the Kitchen but then..

His eyes- Oh my for the love of Asahi's beautiful hair. He witness someone's cornering you. He panicks. He saw the gorgeous golden karaage that's been served on the plate and quickly snatch a few of them.

Before any of you could say anything, he bowed so many times and left the kitchen at ungodly speed. Leaving both of you in awkward position.

He was munching the Kaarage only to realized that his face is still in panic state. So he went to the trusty ol' buddy. Kageyama lol.

"What happen? You run into a ghost or somethin? That's what you get for cutting the line dumb-" "Kageyama.. In the kitchen.."

Ah shoot, is he really going to tell him this?

"They were in the kitchen.. They.." But before he could explained, Kageyama already assumed first what he was going to say.. incorrectly.

"Sugawara-san is cornering (Y/n)-san.." he whispered. Maybe his whisper is a tad too loud. Someone might have heard that. Kageyama clench his towel and gets up.

Poor bby tried to stop him but gets thrown away instead. He never know what happen when Kageyama went to the Kitchen. All he want to do now is get to the hot shower and eats.

"Hinata you can go." A voice told him, it was Nishinoya. Hinata thanked him and went to bathroom. Before he can get to the bathroom, he get past the kitchen. Preparing himself to witness another 'intense moment' as he past by.

But he locks eyes with you instead. You eyes was a little gloomy. His heart suddenly got a little pinch when he see your unusual facial expression.

After showering, he went out. Fold his dirty clothes and join the others. Somehow your unusual expression gets him that hard. He hardly can focus on food when you and Sugawara served the main dish.

Of course he still talks and jokes around but you're the only one who noticed that Hinata's not as cheerful when he first enter your house.

"Um.. Due to lack of the space, one of you have to sleep with me."

As usual the two second years that are going after you fights over who's the one who gets to sleep with you.

Untill you pull Hinata from the crowds and grins.

"I choose Hinata, he's like my baby brother so i trust him!" You smiles as you hang your arms on his shoulder. Hinata cannot believe you just did but everyone strangely agrees.

"He's too dumb anyway, he won't do anything weird to (Y/n)-san." Ouch, He heard that.

You leave the door open as you prepare the mattress for him. Ofc he helps too. You two pull the mattress out and prepares it.

"Here's your pillow and blanket. Do you need anything else?" You kindly asked. Hinata shakes his head.

"Kay then, i'll turn off the lights!" Once you cut off the light, the dim room suddenly got so different. You jumped to your bed and wrap yourself in your soft fluffly blanket as you face Hinata's side.

"Hehehe, i feel like sleeping with my brother, it's somehow exciting." You chuckles. Hinata looks up, he tried to find your face in the dim room. Thanks to the moon that unexpectedly shines over you two, you both able to see each others faces.

You're surprised after seeing Hinata's face. He got that serious calm face just like when he about to take over the courts. It sometimes scares you how the loud boy can be so calm yet serious.

"Do i look like that to you, (Y/n)-senpai?" He asked. Sitting right up.

"Huh?"

"Do i really look like your baby brother?" He asked. You jokingly agrees. But when he gets up. You know he's serious now. Oh fuck.

"Did you forget that i'm a boy too?" His fast movement plus the dim room causing you to lower your guards and just in a second, he's already on top of you. Wait how?

"You know.. I saw how Suga-san cornering you like this in the kitchen earlier." He explained. Ah he did witness that.

"Don't treat me like a child, (Y/n)-san. I'm- I'm a man too!" He stated while making a manly face.

You can't help but smiles. Damn, you misunderstand him. You always thought that he just adore you because you're his senpai, turns out you're wrong. He got thus serious yet commited face. And don't forget a lil' flushed cheeks.

"I'm not a kid..." those were his last word before he falls down on your body and fall asleep.

You laughed and hugs him. Hugging him close to your chest.

"Of course you're not, Shouyou.."

8. Tsukishima Kei

Salt boi is here yall

He doesn't bother to say no when you offer him.

"Hah? No thanks. I'm not in the mood for sleepover."

But oh well you insist him to go in the end. And he does.

As expected, Tsukki didn't say much or even complained. Because he kept it inside. Pfft.

"Dang it why do i have to do this?" "i should've decline." "This is just a club, duh." "How many times i have to deal with this bunch of idiots."

"ThIs iS jUst A ClUb"

He places his shoes and went in. Leaving everyone behind and drop himself to your couch.

While everyone are looking at him with the 'what-the-fuck' face and Daichi is ready to beat his ass, but you stopped them.

"It's alright you all. Tsukki is actually visited my house a lot so he gets used to it." You explained and everyone are shooked.

Everyone asked him why did he get to visit your house. He simply shrugs "Our parents are friends with each other."

Everyone never knew that you both are actually childhood friend. Well you and his older brother is. But you consider Tsukki's your childhood friend too because he used to tag along with his older brother and play together with you. Since middle school, he often visits your home. Along with Akiteru.

No one really notice this because of your rare interaction. Sure you often scolds him and talk ti him but no interaction outside the club activity.

While the other are making a ruckus he wondered. "It's been so long after i came here. When was it? Around Junior high i guess? Well, doesn't matter."

"Tsukki! You came here a lot? How come i never know??" Yamaguchi protest. He doesn't believe that his bestfriend is actually close with anyone.

"None of your bussiness Yamaguchi." He simply shut him up and dried his blonde hair.

His eyes wander around your living room. Nothing change since his last visit. He hates to admit it but it brings so much memories.

"Nee-chan, I like you!"

He snaps out. Fuck why is he remembering that now. He takes off his glass and massaged his temple as Hinata rushing back from the kitchen.

It didn't take too long for him to figure out everything because of Hinata's loud whispering. He knows what happen between you and Sugawara in the Kitchen.

It's none of his concern. Or is it?

So he didn't think about it and left to bath. Before he able to enter the bath, you tried to stop him and offer him a clean towel for him but ofc he refuse wdy expect.

Once he shut the door close, gotta admit he kinda hate seeing Sugawara touchy touchy with you. But tch, what's his problem. It's your problem, not his. So what if you date someone from the voleyball club, right?

...Right?

He left the bath feeling a little better and less annoyed. When he's back to the living room he saw how close you are to the senpais. Deep down, it honestly irks him. But oh well.

Just when he place himself infront of the table, you hand him his portion of rice. "Not too much, right? I still remember!" You smiled.

He thanked you then starts to eat. Tsukishima probably is the calmest when eating. While everybody laughs, jokes, and talks he keep quiet and focus on his food. Sure he add a littlr insults here and there but it doesn't distract him from his focus.

You love that side of Tsukishima. If only he can take Voleyball that serious, you thought to yourself.

After cleaning up and washing the dishesh, it's time to sleep.

Again, "Um... Due to the lack of space, one of you have to sleep with me."

Again, Tsukishima already prepared himself for sleeping anywhere. Anywhere is fine really. He just want to call it a night. Sleeping with you? It's out of his boundaries. He can never do that-

"Tsukishima? You alright?" Your voice snaps him out.

"Huh oh, me?"

"Yeah. You seems spacing out a lot lately." Tsukishima denies, only to realize that he's in your room and no one is around him.

"Wait. Where's everyone?" He wonder. You laughs. "They've gone to sleep. And you should too, Tsukki." You tap his back, giving him a little rub.

After you pulled the mattress out, Tsukishima helps you with the sheet and stuff. He didn't say a word. Is he okay, you always wonder.

"Can you turn the lights off, please?" You ask him. He reach for the lights and turns it off. When darkness hits you. It's like you're in a different room.

10 minute have passed and none of you made any sound. Ony the sound of your body turning over and over and the soft blanket.

"What is it? Can't sleep?" Tsukishima suddenly spoke out. You're kinda surprised a little. But you nods.

"Hey, don't you remember our first sleepover?-" "I didn't. Goodnight." He cuts you off and turns his back on you. Guess he's that tired afterall.

For god sake you've tried to close your eyes arpund hundred thousand times. But it won't. Tsukishima presence is making you hard to behave.

You face him. Looking over his broad back. He grew so fast. You barely stands a chance. You remember how you and him used to compare your height and he beats you. You remember how he used to play with you and Akiteru will suggest a weird yet fun ideas. And how that day, he... confess to you.

You snaps out when you feel a sudden hit in your hand. You look over to him and find his eyes looking at you. "Are you okay? Staring at the ceiling, not blinking for almost a minute now. I'm almost having a heart attack." He said followed with a laugh of yours.

"Sorry, reminiscing old times."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, our old times."

He suddenly became quiet again. You turn over him and rest your head at the corner of the bed. "Why.. Are you avoiding me?" Tsukishima scoffs. "Avoiding you? When?" "3 summers ago. When we're having our first sleepover. And you..."

Your heart and brain are niw deciding whether you should remind him or not. Not noticing your body being so close to the edge and boom.

You fell right trough to his body. What a coincidence right. "What the- Get off me!" He pushed you off. Ouch..

You sits on his bed. Your heart is still aching from him raising his voice. You looks away.

"Do you hate me that much? I tried to talk to you but you never listen." Tsukki looks over to you. His blurry gaze didn't help so he sits right up too and faces you.

"What is your problem? Can't you just sleep quietly?" "I cannot!" "Well then stop bothering me!" ..He might have gone too far.

Is that you've been doing? Bothering him..?

Ah fuck, never knew getting told off like this will hurt your heart that much.

"Fine, Sorry. I'll stop." You climbs up to your bed. Ignoring your aching heart you decided to close your eyes.

Until you feel a warm presence behind you. You know it's him. "What are you-" "Shut up and listen. Don't cut me off and let me finish." He stated. Your silence showing that you agrees.

"I still remember our first sleepover. I remember how we can't sleep untill 2. While Akiteru-nii is sleeping, we talk and jokes until the night goes away. But one thing that i want to forget that night is when i..." he stops for a while, seems lost. His left hand is resting on your waist. You holds his hand. Calming him.

"When i confess to you. I want to erase that memory from my mind but lucky me huh, we met again. So it's a fail." You turn around and cups his face. "..Are you assuming that night that i rejected you, Kei?" He didn't expect this. What the hell?

You chuckles, seeing his clueless face is funny. "You stupid giraffe. It's my first confession dummy. I don't know how to react so i just left you off and sleep without thinking about it. But now that i think about it.." your cheeks heating up. Ah shit.

You two are so close. There's barely any distance left. His arms suddenly pushed you into his hug. Resting your head in his chest.

"In case you want to know. My feelings haven't change a slightest."

9. Yamaguchi Tadashi.

Look at that. You've been blessed by his precious smile.

Cutie didn't want to bother you at first. But Tsukki's joining so why not?

As you already know, the first year are well obsessed? Not really, but all of them put you in a special place in their heart.

Especially for Yamaguchi.

You know his struggle. His pain. His grieve when he failed that pinch serve.

You're the one who calms him down and be there for him. His panic, he almost burst out to tears and he did, he tried to leave but you stopped him and hugs him while he's crying like a baby in your hug.

And of course after that he developed a huge crush on you.

He's amazed on how you're able to handle most of them from the craziest, loudest one to the saltiest and quietest one.

When he step into your house, he barely even realize that his face shows how happy he is. Spending a night in your house, what is this a dream?

'Till he found out that his bestfriend, Tsukishima is your childhood friend. And he never knew anything. At. All.

"Tsukki? You came here a lot? How come i never knew??" And as usual Tsukishima shuts him up

He lost a little bit of his hope. Poor baby :(

You and Yamaguchi is always a good.. friend? I mean you both comfort each other. But being their Senior and their Manager, it's your job right?

But then he heard that Sugawara-senpai is- what? Cornering you? What is going on?

His heart immediately panicks and over-thinking.

It's true that everyone want to have you, but.. He cannot lose. He won't.

For a whole day he keeps himself quiet. More quiet than the usual. From the bath to dinner. And you don't even notice. Weird, usually you notice right away.. But oh well, he can talk to you later, right?

And the time came.

"Um.. Due to the lack of space, one of you have to sleep with me."

His heart jolts up. His chance for talking to you.

He locked eyes with you. Hoping you notice him. But.. You didn't. And in the end, you decided to sleep alone. Shoot. "There goes my chance." He thought.

The coldness in the living room is not comfortable at all. His mind is still going around on you, you, and only you. He need to talk to you. So he made up his mind.

He sloowly make his way to your room. Knocking it lightly to inform you. But no answer. A minute has passed since the last knock went on your door. "She's probably asleep.." But the door's open. And he got a glimpse of you in your bed. Getting sleepy but still a little awake.

Then your eyes met. Yamaguchi squeak and tried to run away. "Wait! Yamaguchi!" And he freezes on the spot. You walk over and opens the door.

"What is it?" Your gentle smile flies is a cure for his worries and thoughts.

"I-I.. But you already asleep, i shouldn't bother you, I'm sorry.."

"No no! It's alright. Come here." You says with a smiles. God his heart feel at ease. He quietly walk closer and enter your room.

He's embarassed and it shows. His fidgety moves and the sweaty palms.

You pull the mini mattress below your bed and Yamaguchi immediately helps you. You both then sits on top of it.

"What is it you want to talk, hm?" You look over to the shy boy. He let out a sigh and then his arms wraps around you. You're quiet a bit surprise seeing him hugs you first. Usually you're the one who hugs him first if he's having a breakdown.

"Let me recharge, senpai.." Yes. You're his source of battery. Being around you or near you giving him energy that will make him last a whole day.

"Sure thing, Tadashi." You ruffles his dark green hair. You can feel his breath tickling your neck. And it's the time. "Okay now, go to sleep-" "No. Wait, don't pull away.. Not yet." He hugs you tighter, not letting you go.

"You're warm, Senpai.. And you look really cute in that pajamas." He whispered to your ears. Causing your face to turns into a blushing mess.

"What the hell Tadashi, when did you learn to sweet talk like this, huh?!" You hit his head lightly.

"Ow! I didn't, i mean it.." the boy green haired boy rubs his head as he snuggles to you.

"I know Tadashi. And it works."

Hey hey hey! FINALLY DONEEE! Oh my enjoy everybody. And remember, stay save!

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu au #haikyuu!!#hinata shouyou #hinata shoyo headcanons #hq tsukishima #tsukishima kei #haikyuu yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi

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willow-salix · 4 years

Text

Anyone want to see Selene try (and fail) to play video games with Alan?

Day 54 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I almost killed Alan today. Mostly because he was laughing so hard he kept choking, wheezing and forgetting to breathe.

What, you might ask, was so funny? Well, he tried to teach me to play a computer game with him. And let's just say… I'm not a natural.

"I'm bored," I whined, stretching out a foot and poking Alan with my toe. "Entertain me."

He looked at me. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know, suggest something."

"You won't like anything that I want to do."

"I promise I will, I'll give anything a go at the moment, I'm that bored."

"Fine," he handed me a VR headset and a set of hand controllers. "Let's play."

"Oh, oh no! No, this is not for me. Boy, you know I'm a technophobe, I don't play games, I just can't get my head around them."

"You promised you'd try," he reminded me, an evil glint in his eyes and an even eviller smirk on his face.

"Crap." I sighed and slid the heavy goggles onto my face. "You had better pick something easy."

There are, as it turns out, two versions of easy, Alan easy, and me easy. He picked Alan easy, which should be considered very hard for me.

"What are we playing?" I asked.

"Cavern Quest," he replied. "You'll love it, I even set you up with a witch character to go with my Knight. You'll do great."

At least someone had faith in me. Though unfortunately that faith was about to be short lived.

"How do I walk?" I called after him as he sped off like a streak of lightning. Boy was rapid. "Come back!"

"Just use the thumb controls of the left controller to move, push forward or backwards to go forward or backwards and side to side to move left or right."

I pushed forward and was instantly face to face with the floor.

"What happened?"

"You fell over. You ran into a stump."

"Poop. How do I get up?"

"Push up! Just push the direction you want to go."

I pushed up and ended up looking at the stars. .

"Erm…help?"

"Hang on, I'm coming."

A hand grabbed mine and hauled me to my feet.

"Thank you."

"Want me to guide you to the first level?"

"Yes, yes I do."

He towed me along by the hand until we zoomed through a curved doorway into what looked like a castle hall.

A king sat upon a pretty nifty throne, so I guessed that my assumption had been correct.

"Welcome, brave warriors," he boomed. "I am grateful for your assistance. I shall give you five quests, each one more challenging than the last. Complete them all and you will win your place within the ranks of nobility and become a Knight of the Realm."

"Fancy," I commented.

"Prove your valour and recite the Cavern Quest oath."

Alan nudged my character, and I think me in real life as I felt it in my ribs.

"Just keep up if you can," he whispered then launched into what I assumed was the oath.

"With mystic blades and fire ore, we pledge our honoured best. Many shall fall for only a noble few will pass the test! So come more worthy heroes and bring forth the cavern quest!" Alan finished triumphantly.

"Mystic ore…nobel us…test…Cavern Quest…" I mumbled, the only words I could catch. Alan didn't look impressed.

"You have pledged your fealty, you may now enter."

A set of doors opened before us and Alan dragged me through.

"You have to be on your guard now. You're a witch, so you fight with spells. Use the buttons on your right controller to cast. You simply swoosh and point and hit the right buttons."

I lifted my right hand and swooshed, hitting a random button with my thumb. A shot of red light flew out of my hand and blew up a rock. "Dang."

Alan cracked up laughing but soon sobered as out of the trees lumbered a gigantic troll. He dived at the troll, hammering it with his sword.

"Cast a spell!" he yelled as I shrieked and dived out of the way, trying to karate kick it.

"Oh, yeah, I'm magic," I remembered, fumbling with the controller. I bashed buttons madly, swinging my arm like I was batting away a fly. Coloured sparks shot this way and that, but the only thing I succeeded in hitting was Alan.

"Hey!"

"Sorry!" I yelled back. I risked moving a little closer and fell over again.

Alan defeated the troll and picked me back up again, moving us through the rest of the level. It didn't come naturally or easily for me.

"How do I jump?" I demanded.

"Left trigger!"

"Why am I stuck?"

"Because you're in a bush!"

"Why did I just die?"

"Because you fell in lava!"

"HIIIIYAAAAAHHHH take that you beast!"

"That's a dog not a werewolf! Stop hitting him with that stick!"

"Oops."

"No! Don't go through…there."

"I can't see! I'm blind!"

"You walked into a wall and you're still walking."

"Why can't I move?"

"You just got yourself stuck in a corner, turn around!"

"Why did I die this time?"

"That tree just fell on you."

I screamed like a banshee when something swooped down out of nowhere and attacked me. I flailed and somehow my thumb hit a button and my hand moved the right way and suddenly the gargoyle was in flames on the floor.

"You did it!"

"I did?"

"Yeah!"

"Cool. See? I got this."

Turned out I didn't got it at all.

We fought our way through the dark forest, taking out elves, fae and the odd goblin. Alan did the majority of the work while I set to work on a few puzzles, all of which provided me with new spells to add to my arsenal.

"For this bit you need to change your form, you cast a spell and become something smaller, like a rat or a toad."

"I can do that?"

"Duh, you're a witch. Use that new spell, it's easy, left, right, right, left, up."

"I wanna be a cat!"

"Then select the cat!"

I toggled along the options until I found a cat and hit the button. A flash of light, a puff of smoke and boom, I was a cat.

"This is so cool! I'm a cat! I have ears! Look at my tail! I can swish." I wiggled my butt back and forth. "Swish, swish, swish,"

"We don't have time for you to play with your tail. You need to go through that pipe and push the button."

I did as I was told and actually managed to complete the mission, opening up a gate for us to go through.

"Now return to yourself."

"I'm stuck! I'm stuck! Alan, help me!"

"You were supposed to get out of the pipe first!"

"You could have told me that!"

"It's common sense!" he yanked at my arms. My avatar didn't budge.

"You're too stuck and you're crushing your own lungs. I'm gonna have to kill you. Sorry about that."

"Just make it quick," I begged. I closed my eyes as he raised his sword.

We moved on once I blinked back into existence after my slaughter at the hand of my team mate. Alan handled all the quest points like the pro that he was, instructing me to go around each area, smash up as much stuff as I could and collect all the objects that fell out.

"Just get all the coins, potion ingredients and magical objects, I'll protect you and do the rest," he promised.

I nodded and proceeded with my one woman rampage of the scenery. I was a button basher, that's all I seemed to be able to do. I found it impossible to coordinate more than one button or movement at a time. I was just about managing to walk, maybe jump and land at a push, everything else was pure dumb luck.

"Yes! Take that you ugly box! Boof! Ha! Give it up, give it all up, I know you've got some gold in there. Quit holding out on me." I smacked the box with an axe that Alan had taken from a suit of armour one level back. The box refused to allow itself to be looted. "Gimme it!!! Gimme the gold! Make me rich, baby!"

I bashed a series of buttons as quickly as I could.

"Why am I a goat? Alan, I'm a goat! Why am I a goat?"

"You cast a spell, change back!"

I tried. "I'm a cow! This is worse!"

He had to stop beating up a wild boar to run over and fix me, laughing the entire time.

"Don't laugh at me! You're body shaming me!"

He actually had to hold his breath for a few seconds to calm down before he could talk me through getting back to my former self.

"Thanks."

I returned to the chest and tossed a spell at it and to my deep joy it splintered apart." Yes!" I scooped up the gold and tucked it away into my bag. I was kinda getting the hang of this.

"Come on, we gotta move!"

Alan leapt up onto the battlements and raced along the wall. I jumped up after him… and promptly fell off the other side and hit the ground.

"Crap!" I yelled as I blinked out of existence and appeared on the other side of the wall again.

It took me six goes to manage the jump, move, run routine, by which time Alan had given up waiting and was half way down the stairs that led to the great hall where the sounds of an epic battle could be heard raging.

"Alan! Don't leave me!" I raced after him and immediately ran into a door that I forgot to open first. I finally made it to the hall after getting wrapped in a spiders web, stuck in a cupboard, setting myself on fire and accidentally drinking a potion that turned me into a ghost for twenty minutes. But at least that gave me a breather to wander around and wail at nothing, kinda like I felt like doing in real life at that moment.

"What took you so long?" Alan called as he slashed at a dark elf that had just thrown a spear at his head.

"I got caught up, but I'm here now. What can I do to help?"

"Anything!" he yelled desperately.

I took him at his word, throwing spells randomly, hitting maybe one intended target out of twenty.

I swung my axe, whacking at anything that came close enough for me to hit.

"Ha! Take that you twat! Come closer so I can kill you easier!"

"I don't think life works that way," I heard John comment.

"How the…?" I looked all around and almost got hit by a flying shield. "Gahhhh," I screamed, ducking out of the way.

"Try hitting it again?" Scott suggested.

"Shut up! I'm trying to stay alive here!" I yelled back.

"Try harder," Gordon encouraged.

"Duck!" Alan yelled and it took me a second to realise he was actually being helpful. I dropped to my knees and just about avoided death by turkey leg.

I'd like to say that I held my own, but I'd be lying. I failed miserably and had to be rescued by Alan another five times just to make it to the end of the level. Though I did manage to trip over my own foot, but then a vengeful knight tripped over me where I was sprawled out on the floor, so I suppose that was a good thing.

"Nope, I'm done, I'll never get the hang of this," I tugged off the headset to find everyone sitting around, watching me.

"How long were you there?" I asked.

"Long enough," Virgil grinned.

"Swish, swish, swish," Scott wiggled his eyebrows at me. I glared in return.

"Lady Witch," John bowed, offering me an apple from the fruit bowl. "I wish to engage your services."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm a mercenary now, I only accept precious jewels or things of high value. You got any potions about your person?"

"How about a dirty old bar of gold? Will that suffice?"

I pretended to think about it. "Deal." I held out my hand. "You good sir, just hired yourself a witch."

I've got no idea what I just agreed to but I'd just survived an epic quest and now I know I can handle anything. He won't be too mean to me, will he?

#alan tracy #Isolation Island #Cavern Quest #Thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds oc #thunderbirds 2015

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angryknightstatesmantrash · 4 years

Text

It’ll Be Okay

A Criminal Minds One Shot

MY MASTERLIST

Requests and Tagslist open!

[I’m super willing to write more parts with London or to continue this part let me know in the requests!]

Original Focus Character: London Emma Schmidt, 17

Team Status: First few episodes of season 3 before Rossi→ Hotch, Reid, Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, Garcia

Potential Triggers: Sexual abuse and assault → 2 potentially triggering scenes. One depicting the after thoughts and another briefly detailing what it looks like on the outside from a distance.

National Sexual Assault Hotline: Call 1-800-656-4673

London loved her job.

Sure, the pay sucked, but the hours were relatively constant, the people were amazing, and even though the team could function without her, they all pretend it couldn’t.

Working as a (low pay) intern at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit was a dream come true for her. She had landed the gig through her councilor, who had handed her the pamphlet and application.

Mrs. VerHagen knew about her passion for going into some form of law enforcement or government, and how badly she wanted to join the bureau. With that knowledge, as soon as she saw the new intern program that would match one student to each unit in the building, she knew London would be interested.

As soon as the deadline had occurred, she received the letter she was accepted and would need to submit a skills profile so that each unit could choose which intern they felt would fit their team best. It all seemed very pet adoption style, but if it meant she had a better chance of making it into the FBI after high school, she would take it.

Once she submitted that, she waited another very anxious several months before getting word that the Behavior Analysis Unit had chosen her from all the survey talented individuals.

Since she was only a high school junior, seventeen years old, she couldn’t go on trips with the team’s and parent’s approval- which she knew would never happen- so she just stayed in the office, helping Garcia from her cave, or tidying things and filing old cases.

Today, however, was one of the days that she would go straight from her public high school to the bureau’s headquarter. She smiled at the main guard at the main entrance, letting them search her school bag and scan her employee badge clipped to the front pocket of her jean jacket.

As she stepped out of the elevator, she was greeted by JJ waving to her while walking from her office, “hey London, I have a few things for you to do today while you’re in, the list is sitting on your desk!”

“Sounds great, JJ! I’ll get right on it,” London called as they passed and she entered the bullpen and set her bag down onto her desk.

“Hey, Schmidt, did you make a coffee run?”

Moving her head to follow the voice she rolled her eyes at Special Agent Derek Morgan, one of the people she loved the most at the BAU, sitting at his desk, relaxing as he leaned against the desk of the person in the office she was closest with, Doctor Spencer Reid. “I didn’t know I was supposed to, I can see what the break room has, but I know you’ll still complain.”

Morgan laughed and outstretched his hand, an almost empty coffee mug hanging for her to grasp, “You know my order?”

London laughed and took the mug, “splash of milk one spoon of sugar, yeah, I know,” she laughed. Looking over to Spencer she raised her eyebrows, “want any Reid? I know your order, don’t worry.”

Spencer nodded and smiled at her, “Yeah, sure. Thanks, London. How was school?”

Shrugging, she leaned back against her desk with the mugs held in her hands. “As good as school can be, but hey, I don’t have to go back until 8am tomorrow.”

The two men laughed as she shrugged and moved to fill up the coffee mugs, “I’ll be back!”

After London filled and returned the mugs to her coworkers and a mug for herself, she started on the list that JJ had given her.

It was a simple list, just filling out some basic forms and organizing records. Sometimes spending so much time with the agents. She made small talk with the people around her.

Tricking Reid into doing her homework for her, throwing small things at Morgan while he wasn’t looking, and sending cat videos to the group chat she was in with JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia were just a few.

It wasn’t until Morgan spoke again that she remembered the time, and what waited for her at home, “Hey, Lon, it’s Tuesday, don’t you gotta be back home by 10?”

Looking up from her AP Chemistry homework, she nodded, “Yeah, why?”

Prentiss looked at the clock sitting on his desk before chiming in, “It’s 9:30 right now.”

Her heat dropped. She was already dreading going home for the fact it was the night of the week she hated wholeheartedly, but being late would make everything that much worse, “Shit, the bus leaves at 9:45, do you think I could make it?”

Reid looked at her, “Hey, I can drive you home, no problem.”

She shook her head, scrambling to shove her books in her bag, log out of the computer, and chug whatever was left at the bottom of her coffee mug, “Yeah, but that’ll only save a few minutes, I’ll still be late.”

At that point, London didn’t have time to allow herself to remember that not only did Reid hate people in his personal space but he also hated driving.

Morgan looked at Prentiss, they made eye contact with a mutual concern.

London was always punctual, that’s just how she was, but on Tuesdays towards the end of the night she was always that much more on edge, only for her to return on Thursday fine.

Once she had gotten ready at her desk at a seemingly superhuman speed, she looked at Spencer expectantly. “Chop chop, we gotta go, come on.”

With keys in hand, he was still grabbing his side bag while she all but dragged him out the office, neglecting the elevator after deeming it, “too time consuming and slow”.

Once they had gotten into the car, London’s leg wouldn’t stay still, it was bouncing and she was picking at her nails, something the team had quickly identified as her “tells”.

“So, are you going to explain why you’re in such a rush?” Spencer asked, seeing it as appropriate to have an explanation.

London shrugged before pointing the corner to turn leading him into a neighborhood that could not be easily classified into lower or middle class. It was the first time any of the team members had brought her home after her shift.

Once he pulled into the driveway, he moved to get out, but was interrupted by London stopping him with a forceful, “what are you doing?”

Spencer looked at her front door, which had the porch light on, and the man standing in the window before clarifying, “I was going to meet your dad and siblings, you talk about them all the time. More your siblings than dad, but still.”

It was a terrible idea. Bruce would be mad enough at London for being late, let alone if she brought someone home, let alone on a Tuesday night.

It wasn’t a secret to the team that her mother was dead, she was open about the ordeal. A drunk driving accident, something that was all too common. It was also true she talked about her younger siblings, little Lance and Jessica, all the time, she loved them and proved every Tuesday she would do anything for them. But the threat of her father, Bruce, out weighed the desire to introduce her family with her friends from the BAU.

Frantically shaking her head at him, her eyes darting from her father, to the clock on the dashboard reading that she was at least fifteen minutes late to curfew, and then Spencer. “No, no no no no, I’m sure you’ll get to meet them sometime but tonight won’t be it. I promise I’ll pick them up from school one day and take them to the office even. But right now I need to go.”

Before Reid could even argue, she was already out of the car and standing outside the front door. “I’ll see you and the rest of the team on Thursday! Have a good night and get some sleep!”

After the kind words she yelled at him she quickly entered her home, shut the door, and turned off the light.

Spencer knew that something was wrong, but nonetheless he drove away from the house and discussed the peculiarities of the situation with the team once he arrived back at the office.

While Reid drove back to the office, London was dealing with the rage of her father inside the home.

“You’re late.” The empty cans laid on the coffee table and refused to let her forget the impending doom that polluted the air around her.

“I know, I got wrapped up, it won’t happen again, I promise.” She looked to the kitchen table, “where are the kids? You know the deal, you do whatever you want to me but you don’t lay a hand on them.”

Downing the rest of the can he was holding, London’s father moved towards her, “I don’t care about what the brats do. What I do care about, is what we’re about to do, and I’m going to take my sweet time tonight,” the way he caressed the side of her face made her almost as sick as what was about to happen would, “sweetheart.”

Laying in her fathers bed, naked with tears streaming down her face and under the covers with him, all London could remember was when she hadn’t grown so numb to her father raping her.

She used to resist. Sometimes she wouldn’t go home on Tuesdays, as that was always the night he got so wasted he could barely remember who his own children were and would beat them senseless.

London learned the hard way that if she wasn’t there to take the brunt of it, it would go to her ten year old brother, or six year old sister, and she couldn’t let that happen. It wasn’t like her older brother, Bryan, knew about it. Once mom died, dad spiraled, and Bryan left for college never to look back at just the right time.

So her father had his way with her every Tuesday night so long as she kept her grades up, he didn’t get black out wasted, and she met her 10 o’clock curfew every Tuesday night, and 11 o’clock curfew the rest of the week, or until her father decided to add an extra day to the schedule.

She knew that she would find herself back where she was tomorrow night, she was late, what should she have expected?

She was tired, she was so tired, more tired than she usually was on a night after. It was a Wednesday, the conveniently planned off-day unless she was called in to help JJ brief the team on a new case, something she had only been allowed to help with two or three times before.

She had drifted through the day ready to go home and get the torture and punishment of being late by her father, until her phone rang as the last bell rang.

Answering it she heard JJ’s lovely voice through the speakers asking for her to go into the office and help with a couple house/office keeping things, help out the team a bit overall.

London agreed, only asking if she could go in a bit later to set up Lance and Jessica’s dinner and evening situations. She felt bad for leaving them alone as often as she did, but on days she regularly had to go into her internship, she had arrangements with her kind neighbors established.

JJ, obviously, agreed.

It was around five thirty in the evening when London made her way into the office. She still smiled at the people she passed, and greeted the security guards who, although were confused about her break in schedule, were still happy to see her.

As soon as she got to her desk she dropped her bag, half heartedly waved at Prentiss who smiled brightly at her, and went to get the most needed mug of coffee probably ever.

Reid had approached her shortly after she sat down, “hey, are you alright? You seemed really upset last night.”

Glancing up from her laptop, London gave him a faint smile, “yeah, sorry about that. My dad’s just strict about curfew.”

Morgan chimed in from his desk, “only on Tuesday?”

London looked between Morgan and Reid before squinting her eyes and looking between them, “Yeah, my siblings get home earlier those days. Why? You guys better not be profiling me, there’s a rule against it for a reason.”

Reid shook his head and shrugged as he sipped his coffee, and Morgan leaned into watching as she stared into space after the three remaining in the situation for what felt like lifespans.

Nodding to Spencer, Morgan, and Prentiss, who didn’t want to be directly a part of the investigation but was still invested in the girls wellbeing, watched as he placed his land on her arm.

Against their hopes, she flinched away and panicked, darting her eyes around the office and her breathing escalated. “What?”

Spencer just looked at her for a moment before asking, “I’m going to be done with paperwork early tonight, I can give you a ride home again tonight if you’d like.”

She looked at him before slowly agreeing, rubbing her forehead in her hand, “yeah, sure, sounds great. Curfew’s 10 again tonight, though.”

Spencer looked back to Morgan and subtly nodded before replying to the girl, “sounds good.”

After an odd car ride to London’s house filled with weirdly general but specific questions from Reid, she once again found herself standing inside the front door of her house, ready to let her father take advantage of her so long as it meant her siblings were safe.

Reid sat in his car parked outside of London’s house with his binoculars in one hand, and his phone in the other. It felt wrong that he was there, spying on his department’s intern that he had grown to become friends with.

Friends care about and help friends. London needed help. That much was clear and had been subtly obvious since day one, the only part left unclear was from what.

***TRIGGER WARNING: ACT (AS MENTIONED ABOVE) BEGINS***

He sat watching through the large front bay window as she stood to her father, which Garcia and other research found to be Bruce, until he pressed her against a wall and moved his face close to hers.

There was a look of resistance on London’s face before he said something that made it drop into defeat and she let her father push her down the hallway.

Spencer had a sick feeling in her stomach. So far, everything that was happening had matched with him, Morgan’s, and Prentiss’s theories. Someone was molesting their intern, they just weren’t sure who.

Watching through the window, Reid watched as London was pushed into the middle of the room. It looked like it was hers, the light blue walls seemed to fit the girl so well he wasn’t sure whose else room it could be.

Spencer hated watching, but he knew that if there was another witness it would make it that much easier to put the bastard away once this was over.

With that in mind, he watched as the girl shook her head at her father before he slapped her face, and moved to close the blinds.

He could still see her silouette as she removed her shirt.

It was all he had to see to call Derek Morgan on his phone and say the only words he needed to, “Hey, we were right. It’s her dad.”

***TRIGGER WARNING: ACT (AS MENTIONED ABOVE) ENDS***

One week and one day later, London works at the BAU, and she loves her job and couldn’t think of a time she genuinely disliked it.

That particular Thursday, however, doing anything else was more appealing to London than going to work.

Maybe it was the sinking feeling that someone had figured out her secret with all the questions they had been asking for a week. Maybe it was the day after feeling she had grown used to when she missed curfew for the second week in a row. Maybe it was just because she forgot her lunch money and was even more tired than Wednesday.

She followed her regular routine through the hallways and elevator to the BAU office floor where the desks of the agents were empty, something that wasn’t uncommon when they were out of town on missions and JJ would have Penelope give her tasks or email her a list.

The uncommon part about the desks being empty was that Doctor Reid was standing next to her desk.

She could tell something was wrong. It was established early that Spencer had the worst poker face, and she had gotten significantly better at profiling since the internship had started.

She was determined to find out what was happening. Did something happen to her siblings? Did something happen to her? Was she being fired?

“What’s up, Spence? Why the long face?”

First, he nodded at her desk and then to the conference room, then he spoke to her, “why don’t you set your stuff down and come join the team in the conference room. We have a case we’d like you to see.”

“A case?” She had been allowed to sit in on several briefings, even help JJ give the briefings, and she often helped Penelope when she was incharge of her interning, but they never waited for her so that she could see.

Nodding, Spencer walked next to the girl around the bullpen and up the staircase. “How was school? Did that boy ask you out yet? Did you know that Morgan had Garcia dig into him for you?”

Laughing she shook her head, “You guys are ridiculous.”

There was a shift in the atmosphere when she walked into the conference room. The entire team was sitting there, and it seemed they were waiting for her and Spencer. “What’s going on? Am I getting fired because I swear Morgan was the one who broke the mug on Tuesday.”

“Hey!” Morgan exclaimed as the girl shrugged at him. What she was saying wasn’t entirely true, but she wasn’t about to get fired over dropping a mug because a boy texted her.

Hotch smiled softly at her before calming her, “no, you’re not getting fired, London. Reid, can you close the door?”

“Okay, cool. What’s this about then?”

It got quiet again as the tension in the room was insufferable.

Looking around the room, London watched as every member of the team avoided her eye contact. “What’s going on? I’m not a fan of the whole-everyone-knows-something-London-doesn’t thing.”

Emily looked up to meet her eyes before speaking in a calm and comforting manner, “London, we know what’s happening at home.”

What’s happening at home. Which part? It might not be as bad as London was thinking. Maybe they don’t know about Tuesdays, they only know about Bruce’s drinking problem.

“What? What do you mean, what’s going on at home?” The change in London’s voice was palpable. It was strained, like she was about to cry if it was what she thought it was, which was absolutely true.

JJ cleared her throat softly, “we know what your dad does to you on Tuesdays. And every night you miss curfew.”

London was glad she didn’t move her head to make eye contact with JJ, she kept her eyes unmoving, staring straight in front of her. Her jaw was clenched, her breathing was heavy but steady, and her fingers clenched in and out of fists.

After a few beats of silence, Derek spoke to her, “Lon, it’s okay. We just want to help you.”

London blinked before looking up and diluting her face to a neutral position before asking, “Alright. Are we done here?”

The team wasn’t sure what was worse, how natural ignoring trauma was to a seventeen year old, or the fact she was so calmly numb to the fact that there were tears rapidly falling down her face without notice from her.

Spencer then did one of the most unexpected things that he could have done, he walked up to the girl and pulled her into his arms. It was then the dam broke and London started sobbing uncontrollably, moving to clutch the man in a hug.

“It’s okay, London. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

concepts for a part 2/series

#heartbeat #spencer reid owns me #intern #bau #criminal minds #fanfiction #angst #spencer reid #original character #writing #masterlist #fluff #london #london the bau intern

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