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nhasablogg · 1 year

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Did it all to make you feel admired

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Morgan/Reid

Summary: While apart during a case Morgan tells Reid over the phone exactly how he’d tickle him if he was there.

A/N: Loosely part of the universe that this fic takes place in, but can be read independently. Thanks so much for the love on that fic btw! I might be adding more parts to this ‘verse as time goes on, so feel free to request anything you want to see! I already have some ideas of my own.

Warnings: Not really anything graphic, but kind of sexual undertones if you squint. Also tickle kinks, but it's pretty tame and not really discussed in this one.

Words: 1.5k

(Read on ao3)

“Pretty boy.”

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief and gripped the phone tighter. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He could hear the smile in Derek’s voice. “How you holding up?”

“Well, I haven’t had a fever since yesterday morning.”

“Why do you sound so grumpy about that?”

“It means I could’ve come with.”

“Spence.” He was rummaging through something, possibly his bag. The first time they’d been forced to share a room during a case Spencer had been surprised by how organized Derek was. Everything was exactly in its place. Well, until the things actually left the bag, that is. “We weren’t gonna bring you with us when you were sick.”

“But at that point I had already been sick for three days, and the likelihood of it continuing for longer than another couple of days was very low, which I told you about-”

“You’re probably better because you’ve been resting.”

“Hm.”

“Spencer.”

“Yes?”

“You have been resting, right?”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the ceiling. “Of course.”

“Baby.”

“Mm?”

“I know when you’re lying.”

Something about his tone of voice made Spencer flush. He could imagine him hovering above him, fingertips on his jawline, head tilted as he gently told Spencer exactly what he wanted him to do for him-

Well, his brain was just cruel. Derek was in fucking Seattle and he was left (alone, unattended, abandoned) in Virginia.

“I might have asked Garcia to send me some of the case materials,” he admitted, and he could hear Derek spluttering into the phone. “Hey, it’s actually really boring to just be lying here when you’re not dying.”

“I’m gonna kill her.”

“Please don’t.”

“Don’t think I won’t kill you too.”

“You’ll miss me too much.”

Derek didn’t reply. He must’ve found whatever he’d been looking for. Maybe he was getting ready for bed. It was nearly 11pm over there after all and he’d probably had a long day.

“I have some input if you guys want it,” he mumbled after a while and Derek huffed out a laugh.

“Of course you do.”

“She wouldn’t send me everything.”

“She shouldn’t have sent you anything.”

“Don’t blame her, I was pestering her for like two days.”

“Oh my god.” Derek laughed again. Spencer couldn’t help but smile. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

“You knew what you signed up for.”

“That I did.”

The sound of the faucet running. Spencer turned his head and looked at the semi-illuminated tree tops outside. Being sick during springtime was just unfair.

“Hey, Spence?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you still awake anyway? It’s like 2am there.”

Spencer shrugged even though he knew he couldn’t see it. “Wanted to talk to you.”

“We literally talked earlier because you wanted me to talk you to sleep.”

“Didn’t work.”

“Spencer, have you spent the last few hours working instead of sleeping?”

“No.”

“Doctor Reid.”

“Oh, stop. You can’t say it like that when you’re not here.”

Derek hummed. “I’m gonna tickle you to pieces once I get back. As punishment, of course.”

Spencer blushed to the roots of his hair. After all these months he was still unused to this. “Oh, no, whatever shall I do.”

“Okay, smartass. What if I do the opposite and withhold tickles until you learn to take better care of yourself?”

“Oh, now you’re being mean,” he pouted.

Derek laughed. He could hear him get into bed, probably shuffling under the covers and lying on his back with one arm behind his neck like he usually did.

Spencer ran a hand over his chest. “Speaking of that,” he started, suddenly feeling shy even though Derek couldn’t see him. “How- how exactly would you punish me?”

“You want to know how I would tickle you right now, pretty boy?” His tone was teasing, but his voice gentle. He wasn’t making fun. He never had.

“Maybe.”

“I need you to speak up, baby.” Spencer groaned, making Derek laugh again. “Or is that too much to ask for? Are you blushing?”

“Me? Never.”

“Hmm. I can imagine it so clearly though. Your eyes refusing to meet mine. Me forcing you to look up by gently holding your jaw. How deliciously pink you are right now. I can nearly feel the heat of your cheeks on my fingers.”

Spencer covered his face with both his hands, caught somewhere between an embarrassed laugh and an overwhelmed squeal which Derek could probably hear. “Stop.”

“Don’t you want me to tell you how I’d tickle you?” he purred on the other side. Spencer could imagine his grin and it made his heart skip a beat.

He said, quietly, “Yes.”

“That’s a good boy,” Derek said. “I’d ask you to tell me how you’d want me to tickle you, but I fear we’d be getting nowhere with how shy you’re being tonight.” Spencer whined and Derek laughed once again. “Don’t worry, it’s adorable. As for the tickling.” He sang the last word, dragging it out as if to make sure Spencer didn’t miss it. “Are you lying on your back?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’d probably not straddle you or anything, but start off lightly just to see you squirm and fight against your instinct to move away. I’d trail my fingertips over your ribs-” Spencer started stroking his own ribs, his skin warm to the touch. “Watch you tense up each time I get close to your sides. I’d probably be grinning at you and you would blush, kind of like you are right now.”

Spencer’s blush intensified. “Do you have cameras in here?”

“No. But that’d be kinda hot right now.”

Spencer laughed.

“There it is,” Derek said, audibly delighted. “The first laugh. I bet it’s because I’m slowly moving toward your belly and you’re nervous about it.”

Spencer moved his hand down, his abdomen jumping beneath his fingers.

“I bet your belly’s jumping right now. That’s so cute, by the way. You being so sensitive there that your body’s fighting to get away from the sensation.”

“Derek.”

“Yes?”

Spencer breathed out, unsure whether the teasing was too much or just enough. Maybe not having him physically there made it all the more intense, since Spencer couldn’t know what Derek looked like. If he was smiling or undressing him with his eyes, or both at the same time. He could hear Derek shuffling when he didn’t reply.

“You okay?” he asked, dropping any playfulness from his voice. Spencer could picture him frowning.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, sorry-”

“There’s no need to apologize, angel.”

Angel. Derek had never called him angel before.

“Did you start overthinking?” he continued.

“Not really, I just- I didn’t know how to respond to your- teasing. It’s different when you can’t physically see my reactions.”

“You don’t have to respond, you know. I trust you’ll tell me if you think I’m overstepping or that it gets too much. You can just lie there in silence and imagine my hands on you, okay?”

Spencer nodded even though he couldn’t see. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good because I was just about to reach your lower belly and you know how much I enjoy the sounds you make when I kiss and tickle you there.”

Spencer’s breath hitched. He could practically feel Derek there, being so very gentle every single time.

“I will trace your skin for a bit, getting you all squirmy and flustered.” Spencer traced the skin of his lower belly. “And then, just as you’re starting to giggle and fight back I will pin you. Do you feel my body on yours?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. I’m straddling your hips, because while you flail a lot it’s your bucking that always throws me off. Literally.”

Spencer let out a laugh. “Sorry.”

“I forgive you only because you’re so pretty.”

“Mm, that’s shallow of you.”

Derek laughed in surprise. “I thought you were gonna be quiet? Don’t get all sassy on me now. I might pin your hands above your head and tickle your armpits and not stop, pretty boy. Actually,” he added when Spencer spluttered. “I think I’ll be doing just that. Raise your arms for me, baby.” Spencer did, even though Derek had no way of seeing if he obeyed or not. “Just like that. Can you feel my hand approaching?”

Spencer, somehow, could, and it made him throw his head back in anticipation.

“My hands are big, you know. I can cover so much ground.”

“I kn-know.”

“Oh, you’re talking again, huh?”

“Sh-shut up.”

“Not when you stutter like that.”

Spencer gripped the headboard of his bed, his phone on speaker next to his head, as if Derek was speaking right into his ear. He could almost feel his breath tickling his cheek, making his hair flutter a bit. Derek would be perched on his side with his head resting in one hand, his other hand free to roam. Maybe he wouldn’t even be tickling him. Spencer would be blushing no matter what.

“Do me a favor, pretty boy,” he was saying now. “Laugh for me.”

And Spencer, even though he wasn’t actually being tickled and it was technically impossible that mere words could tickle, did.

#tickling #moreid #moreid fic #ticklish!spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #tickle fic #n writes #did it all to make you feel admired

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

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Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 14

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“It was so good to see you, Will,” Valerie says in a muffled voice against his chest as he has her wrapped up tightly in a bear hug.

“I know, I’m so glad I ran into you,” Mulder replies, brushing his hands over her back. He pulls away and kisses her softly on the cheek.

“It makes me really happy to see you so happy,” she says with a smile, her long brunette hair lifting softly in the breeze, brown eyes holding affection that can only be held between two people who have the type of bond that can withstand a breakup and then a transition from lovers to friends.

“Likewise,” he says, nodding towards the small swell of her growing belly.

“I’d love to meet your girlfriend someday, if you think she’d be okay with that,” she says, collecting her purse.

“Yes, I’d really like that. I think you two would get along really well, actually,” he says, and she smirks at him.

“You’re not afraid we’ll bond over having to sit through your shitty movie collection?” she teases, and he laughs good-naturedly.

“Hey, Scully likes my shitty movies, that’s why we’re a perfect match,” he retorts.

She squeezes his arm.

“Call me sometime, okay?”

He nods and watches her walk away, feeling like he’s on cloud nine. A great friendship with his ex-girlfriend, a promising new love with the woman of his dreams; he can only imagine what lies in store next. He practically skips on the walk back to his car, wondering if Scully might let him come by tonight, hoping that he won’t have to wait until the weekend to see her again. He decides to call her as soon as he gets home.

The first few times he gets her machine, he assumes she must be at her mother’s. When she still hasn’t answered or called back by 9:00 pm, he’s confused. When he emails her the next morning and still hasn’t gotten a response at 10:00am, he’s officially worried.

Something is wrong.

———

She had eventually turned off the ringer on her phone and put the volume all the way down on her answering machine so she wouldn’t have to hear his increasingly obsessive attempts to get ahold of her, then slept fitfully all night.

She knows that she needs to give him some kind of response or he’ll show up on her doorstep, but she can’t bring herself to face him, even in voice. Every time the image of him with that woman pops back into her head, she feels a lump form in her throat immediately, a sick sadness welling in her belly. She’s pored over every memory in her mind, every interaction they’ve had, searching for signs. Signs that he was seeing someone else, that he wasn’t interested in anything other than getting in her pants, that he was lying to her. Her thorough inventory brings up next to nothing, which almost makes it worse; how adept he must have been at creating a false reality for her to exist in. Perhaps he’s garnered some tips from the sociopaths he studies, or maybe his background in psychology allowed him to manipulate her.

When she arrives at work, she is unsurprised though still dismayed to see an email waiting for her.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5, 1997 7:57 am

To: [email protected]

Subject: Where are you?

Scully, you’re freaking me out. Are you okay? Please respond.

She deletes it immediately and tries to focus on work. She performs an autopsy and teaches a class, both welcome distractions from her emotional torment. Just before 11:00 am, the phone rings.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy…yep, she’s here, one second.”

Trudy turns and opens her mouth to speak, but sees Dana waving her arms and shaking her head. She makes a confused face and puts the phone back to her ear.

“Oh, actually she just stepped out, sorry. Can I take a message?”

She watches as Trudy scribbles something on a piece of paper.

“Uh huh…yes. Okay, I’ll tell her…you have my word.”

She replaces the phone on the receiver and hands Dana the paper with a sympathetic frown.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asks rhetorically.

Dana looks down and deciphers Trudy’s messy scrawl.

Call Mulder immediately. Send a sign of life.

She crumples it up and tosses it into the trash can.

“You wanna talk about it?” Trudy asks.

“Nope,” Dana replies, turning back to the computer.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:03am

To: [email protected]

Subject: PLEASE RESPOND

Scully, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but if you don’t reply to this within an hour I’m driving down there.

Please respond

She feels fresh tears well in her eyes. Why is he trying so hard if he’s seeing someone else anyway? Why is he doing this to her? With a surge of anger, she hits reply.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:05am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:PLEASE RESPOND

I’m fine, Mulder. Please just give me some space.

With that she closes her email, begs someone to take her second class of the day, and goes home.

———

He feels like he’s stepped into an alternate universe. He’d left her happy and satisfied, and out of nowhere she’s shutting him out. What does she need space for? Space from him? Why? Did he come on too strong and freak her out? He thought they’d moved past that. He picks up the phone again.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy.”

“Trudy, it’s Agent Mulder again. Look, I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, but is Dana there?”

She pauses. “No, she went home for the day. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Do you have any idea why?” he implores.

“No, other than the fact that it seems to be directed at you.”

“Yeah, that much I gathered. Thanks, Trudy, sorry to bother you.”

“No worries, good luck.”

He slams the phone down, grabs his jacket off the back of his chair and leaves.

———

She is half expecting his knock, but it still makes her jump, nearly causing her to spill her wine. She wants to just ignore him until he goes away, but she knows his proclivity towards persistence won’t let him do that. Better to just get it over with, she thinks as she slumps towards the door.

The second she lays eyes on him in his slacks and dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie discarded, she feels her chin pucker and tears threaten her eyes. As angry as she is, she immediately wants to go to him, to curl up within his embrace so he can comfort her. The problem is, what she needs comforting from is him.

“What is going on?” he says with a mix of frustration and fear.

She stands in the open doorway, not making space for him to enter.

“I saw you,” she says, her voice strained with emotion.

“You saw me...what?” he asks, his face a mask of confusion.

She lifts her chin, clenching her jaw and summoning strength.

“I saw you with her. Yesterday, at the Bluebird Cafe. After I had lunch with my family.” her voice holds steady, anger carrying her through.

His face falls and her gut twists. She wishes she didn’t have to watch this.

“THAT is what this is about?” he asks, but there’s no shame or regret in his voice. If anything, he sounds a little mad.

She nods curtly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spits out, and she recoils a little at his vitriol. “Let me in, Scully. Right now,” he demands, and against her better judgement she moves aside.

He pushes past her into the apartment and she closes the door softly, leaving it unlocked in case either of them decides to make a hasty exit.

“Did you consider,” he begins, his back to her, “maybe, I don’t know, asking me about what you saw?” He turns to face her, one hand on his hip and his face contorted with anger. “Or were you just planning to avoid me until I gave up and went away again?”

She doesn’t know what to say. She’s confused about why he’s yelling at her when he’s the one who did something wrong. She just looks at him, expressionless.

He juts his chin out expectantly, waiting for an answer, but gets none. She averts her eyes.

“Is that all this is worth to you, Scully?” he continues, “you’re ready to throw this away over a simple misunderstanding, without even talking to me?”

She lifts her head and looks at him with a pained expression. “Okay then, talk,” she gets out.

He drops his head in frustration. “The woman you saw me with,” he says flatly, lifting his head to meet her eye, “was my ex-girlfriend, Valerie. I ran into her while I was running errands yesterday, and we had lunch. She has a boyfriend and is three months pregnant. We spent the majority of our meal together talking about you.”

She shakes her head gently, her throat closing as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I saw you kiss her,” she whispers, her jaw quivering.

“You saw me kiss her on the cheek? I also kiss my mother on the cheek, Scully, it’s hardly an intimate gesture.”

She feels a new wave of sickness pass over her, but this time it’s entirely different. This time it’s the sick feeling of realizing that she was very, very, wrong, and that she has, yet again, hurt the man who loves her. She opens her mouth to speak but she can’t find the right words.

He steps forward but doesn’t touch her. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more defeated than anything else.

“I’m sorry that you saw something that upset you. But if you actually thought for a single second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I meant what I said the day you left my apartment last year. I felt it then, and I feel it now. I want this to work more than anything, Scully, but for that to be possible you have to trust me. I can’t live with the knowledge that you might just shut me out at a moment’s notice when you get scared.”

She keeps her head down, overwhelmed by a combination of shame, embarrassment, and gratitude that he wouldn’t let her walk away. She does not deserve this man, but she wants to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, still unable to meet his eye.

“I know you are,” he replies, moving towards the door. “Take the space you need, and let me know when you’re ready to trust me.”

When she hears the click of the door closing behind him, she collapses to the floor, sobbing for so many reasons she couldn’t possibly name them all. When it’s faded to snivels and hiccups, she stands and goes to the hallway, picking up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Missy,” she chokes out, “Can you come over?”

———

He’s not sure if leaving was the right thing to do. The risk that she might not come back around is one that sends his stomach into knots, but at the same time he finds it hard to accept that she wasn’t even going to give him the opportunity to explain. He’s been actively working to temper expressing his feelings so he doesn’t overwhelm her, but then she gets it in her head that he’s not invested. It feels like he can’t win.

He goes back to work and stops by Kirkbride’s office to apologize for disappearing. Kirkbride just gives him a quizzical look, clearly not having noticed he had left. The rest of the day he buckles down on his caseload, distracting himself from the catastrophic thoughts that dance through his head, and gets more work done than he has in quite a while. When he leaves the office just after 5:00 pm, he feels melancholy and grouchy, and annoyed that he left the ball in her court.

The elevator dings to announce his arrival on the fourth floor and he steps out with a takeout bag in his hand, eyes downcast. Halfway down the hall, he readies his key and looks up, startling when he sees Scully sitting on the floor against his door, knees tucked up against her chest and her forehead resting on her kneecaps. She’s very still, and as he gets closer he realizes that she’s asleep. His heart aches knowing that she’s been waiting that long, that she didn’t want to leave without talking to him.

He crouches down beside her, setting his dinner on the floor, and gently touches her shoulder. She jerks, her head snapping up and her eyes wild for a moment while she tries to orient herself. When she focuses on him, she immediately starts crying, reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck. He’s surprised by her uncharacteristically emotional response, but says nothing and just holds her until his knees start to ache, at which point he sits down on the floor and pulls her into his lap. They stay this way for several minutes, long enough for one of his neighbors to walk by and politely avert their eyes, entering their apartment as though there was nothing out of the ordinary happening in the hallway. When the crying seems to have subsided a bit, he gives her a little squeeze.

“Wanna go inside?” he asks, and she nods against his chest, his shirt damp from her tears.

She stands unsteadily and he follows her, grabbing the takeout bag off the floor. They enter the apartment and Priscilla plods up to them with an excited meow. Scully leans down and picks her up, tucking the cat against her neck as they nuzzle each other. Mulder smiles at them with a bemused expression.

“She was talking to me through the door,” Scully says with a small smile, “she heard me knocking and was meowing from the other side. We had a conversation.”

Affection swells in his chest and he steps forward to kiss her. Her shoulders drop and she lets Priscilla down so she can get closer, threading her arms around his waist and kissing him back in earnest. Desperate, thought I’d lost you again kisses that are as arousing as they are a relief, because he knows that they will be okay.

He pulls back a little and she makes a whimpering sound in protest.

“I’m gonna go change really quick, okay? Then can we talk?” he asks, and she sighs and nods. “You can have half my Chinese,” he adds, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

When he sits on the couch beside her five minutes later, she scoots closer so they are pressed against each other, and he gathers that she needs physical closeness right now. He loops an arm around her shoulder and she crawls right back into his lap, curled against him as though trying to fuse her body to his own. Her head tucked beneath his chin, she holds one of his hands in her lap, fingers laced tightly together, and begins to speak.

“After you left, Missy came over and we talked for a long time. I’ve come to realize how much I’m still affected by...what happened last year. I harbor a lot of guilt for being unfaithful to Ethan, and that’s actually largely why I married him even though I knew my heart wasn’t in it.” She pulls in a deep breath, pressing their joined hands tight against her belly, trying to get even closer. “When you and I reconnected, in a way it felt like a chance to validate it. As though things working out with us would mean that what I did wasn’t as bad, because there was something real between us. But at the same time, a big part of me doesn’t believe that I deserve to be happy.” Her voice remains steady, but he feels the wet drop of a tear on the back of his hand.

He tightens his arm around her waist. “I’ve always been a person who values doing the right thing, and integrity was something that was very important to my father. It was his measure of a person’s character, and that’s something he instilled in me as well.” She sits up a bit so she can look at him, and his heart breaks at her red-rimmed eyes, her icy irises so mournful. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mulder. You haven’t given me any reason not to. It’s just that I don’t feel like I deserve this, especially with you, and I’m waiting for the moment it all comes crashing down. So when I saw you with that woman, it was almost like I’d been waiting for it, expecting it. Getting what I deserved.”

He brings his palms to her cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says softly. “I wish I could change how you feel, but I know that I can’t. I do know how it feels to spend your life harboring guilt over something you could have done differently, and I can tell you that punishing yourself won’t make it any easier. It makes me really sad that you’ll always regret how we met.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head gently. When she opens them, her expression is more tender than it is mournful.

“I don’t regret it, Mulder. I do feel guilt, and shame, for not ending it with Ethan so we could have done things the right way, but I could never regret meeting you.”

He pulls her back into an embrace, her arms wrapping around his ribcage, and plants a kiss to the top of her head.

“Are we okay?” he asks softly.

“I hope so,” she says hoarsely.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that Valerie wants to meet you sometime?” he asks, and she laughs.

“I don’t know, did you tell her that I freaked out on you because you had lunch with her?” she replies, and he can already hear her tone shifting back to their typical lighthearted banter.

“No, of course not. That’ll be our little secret. Well, plus Trudy. I think Trudy knows too much honestly.”

She laughs again, and god he could spend the rest of his life trying to make her laugh. In fact, that’s exactly what he hopes to do.

“Speaking of meeting people,” she continues, “Missy mentioned you to my mother yesterday and she wants to meet you.”

A grin stretches across his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. She pulls back to look at his face, to gauge his reaction, and smiles softly in response.

“You want me to meet your mom?” he asks, the delight on his face carrying over to his voice.

Her mouth screws up shyly. “My little brother will probably be there too, and Missy. Is that too much?”

He shakes his head. “Sounds perfect. But, there are some friends I’d like you to meet too, if we’re meeting people.”

“The Lone Gunmen?” she asks with a skeptical lilt.

“Those are the ones. They’re my only friends, actually. Aside from Val.” Just then, Priscilla hops up onto the couch beside them. “Oh, and you Priscilla, sorry,” he adds.

Scully smiles at the cat, and then at him. “Can I bring Missy as a human buffer?” she asks hopefully.

“Of course. You may set a record for the highest number of female visitors to their lair in a day.”

“Lair?” she asks with wide eyes.

He chuckles. “They’ll grow on you, I promise.”

#the x files #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #txf #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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emachinescat · 2 years

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Febuwhump Day 13: Won't regain consciousness (unfinished, to be completed tomorrow!)

Fandom: Psych

So I'm still running a bit behind with Febuwhump, but I'm making it my goal to post whatever I do have written every day. The full story for Day 13 (possibly made up of multiple chapters, or maybe just a lengthy one-shot, unsure at this point) is going to fulfill a request for @justanotherdutch-asiangirl here on Tumblr. Also, if you recognize the name of the drug lord, I basically genderbent and borrowed it from The Magnus Archives. And the SEAL who saves Shawn is loosely based on Thomas Magnum from the Magnum P.I. reboot, just because that show's my newest hyperfixation lol. :) Anyway, like yesterday, if there are any errors, I'll fix them tomorrow when I post the whole story. And yes, Shawn *is* in a coma, even if the story doesn't say it yet, so it still counts for this prompt! Hopefully I'll find the time to get fully caught up on Febuwhump soon and won't fall farther behind! Life is a lot right now, so we'll see! Either way, I plan to post the full fic (or chapter 1, at least) on AO3 and share it here tomorrow, so stay tuned if you're interested!

Juliet

On a normal day, the drive from San Francisco to Santa Barbara took exactly four hours and fifty-five minutes. Today, it took Juliet O’Hara just under three and a half.

She’d been in court when Lassiter had called, waiting to testify in a trial for a murder case that she’d spent weeks cracking. When she’d checked the screen and seen her former partner’s ID, she’d slid the vibrating phone back into her purse. He had to be calling about dinner plans later that evening.

Juliet had actually convinced him to go on a double date with her and Shawn, a task that had been months in the making. She’d had to swear on the lives of her grandmother and both of her cats that Shawn would behave himself to get him to agree.

Five minutes later, her phone went off again. Rolling her eyes, Juliet undid the snap on her bag and peeked inside. Still Lassiter. What in the world was so important that he was trying to call her when he knew she was about to testify? Part of her worried that he was trying to back out of dinner, so she closed her purse and refocused on the trial. Like she would let him go back on his word now. If they just spend a little more time together outside of work, Juliet thought, maybe they can finally get over their pride and admit they’re friends. It was a long shot, but these were the two most important men in her life, and she was tired of being stuck in the middle all the time.

Not even a minute after, he called again. The old man sitting next to her shot her a disapproving look as she dug into her purse, ignored the call, and then tapped out a quick text: WHAT? I’m in court.

Almost instantly, her phone buzzed again. Emergency. Call me now.

Gut twisting over on itself, heart hammering against her ribcage, she managed to type. About to testify. Can it wait?

It took less than thirty seconds for him to respond, but it felt like thirty minutes. She could barely unlock her screen when she got the notification, her fingers trembling and palms sweaty. She could feel her fight or flight instincts swelling inside of her, the inescapable need to do something, to get up, to leave, to call Lassiter then and there. But she maintained her composure, outwardly at least, and waited for the return text with all the patience of a high schooler at 2:45 on the day before summer break.

When she saw Lassiter’s response, her blood turned to ice in her veins. She was on her feet before she’d registered she was moving, and when the judge demanded an explanation, she stammered something about a family emergency and nearly tripped over her own feet racing to the exit.

No. It’s Shawn.

No other information, but Juliet knew that whatever had happened, it was bad. The only time Lassiter had ever called Shawn by his first name had been when he was in trouble. The Garth Longmore nightmare came immediately to mind.

She’d dialed before she’d even left the courthouse, and Lassiter picked up on the first ring. She rushed outside, away from prying ears, and demanded, sans greeting, “Is he okay?”

The short but heavy hesitation brought tears to her eyes. She already knew the answer. No way would Lassiter interrupt such an important trial just to change dinner plans or tattle on Shawn for some stupid prank.

Finally, Lassiter had answered, voice thick with an emotion Juliet couldn’t quite place, “He’s alive.” The way he said it didn’t inspire much hope or confidence. The tears crested, spilling down her cheeks in silent streams.

“What happened?”

Another pause, this one shorter but just as weighted. “It’s a long story. I don’t even know all of it myself. I’ll tell you what I can in a minute, but you probably need to square things with your trial first and head this way.”

If someone had taken a carving knife and hollowed out Juliet’s chest, it would have hurt less than Lassiter’s words. She choked on a sob, chest so tight it made her head spin. Get it together, she ordered herself, recognizing all too well the beginnings of a panic attack. She could break down later. Right now, she had to get to Santa Barbara. She had to get to Shawn.

So she had called Karen, who had already spoken to Lassiter, though she claimed to know nothing more than Juliet did at this point. Juliet couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth, but she hadn’t pressed, especially when the chief told her to go, that she would take care of everything else and be on her own way to Santa Barbara as soon as she could. Juliet had tried to book a flight, but there were none that left soon enough, so she’d decided to drive.

For the first half hour of the trip, she’d talked to Lassiter, who had filled her in, more gently than Juliet had ever thought possible. From what he said, Shawn and Gus had been working on a private case. Shawn had come to the station poking around for information a couple of times, but they had been promptly shooed off. The man they were asking about had ties to vicious drug lord Nicholas Orsinov, and they had been told in no uncertain terms that if they kept pushing this dangerous matter, they wouldn’t see another SBPD case for the next two years.

As usual, Shawn hadn’t listened, not to Lassiter, not to Gus, not to his dad, all who told him to back off and refused to help. About two hours ago, the SBPD had gotten a call about a John Doe that had been spotted in the waves about a hundred feet from shore. By pure luck, the guy who found him was an ex-Navy SEAL and had managed to get the man to shore. The John Doe, of course, had been Shawn.

“The guy who found him’s a real hero,” Lassiter said seriously. “Realized Shawn still had a pulse, got him to shore using his surfboard as a stretcher, then called 911 and performed CPR until the ambulance arrived. Even came to the hospital to check up on him later.”

“But what the hell happened?” Juliet demanded, her whole body numb except for the swelling nausea in her gut.

“Best we can tell, Shawn decided to keep poking into Orsinov on his own, even after we told him to leave it alone, to find some other way to solve his case. Either Orsinov himself or some of his goons must have caught him, and decided to tie up any loose ends.” A pause. “I’d bet just about anything that it wasn’t Orsinov himself. He’s too smart to have left anything to chance. So that’s something to be grateful for, O’Hara. It could have been a bullet between the eyes, and there’s no coming back from that.”

As usual, Lassiter’s pep talks sucked. Even in her state of shock, with the swirling tide of grief and fury and terror pounding madly against her defenses, widening the cracks in her armor and threatening to tear her down from the inside, Juliet had enough awareness to realize that Lassiter wasn’t telling her everything.

“Look, O’Hara,” he said, discomfort clear in his voice. For a moment, Juliet felt sorry for him; this kind of emotional conversation was way outside of his wheelhouse. But they had been partners – were still partners, even if Lassiter was now chief and Juliet lived five hours away – and he had been the one to ID Shawn at the hospital, and she knew that he would never have delegated this phone call to anyone else, that Juliet needed to hear this from him. “You’re on the road, and you’re already upset enough. I really think it would be best–”

“I really think it would be best if you told me the truth,” Juliet snarled. She took a deep breath. It felt like her heart had been replaced by a lead weight. “I’m sorry, Carlton. But please, I need to know.”

#psych #fic #unfinished #to be continued #febuwhump 2022

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thesewordsareallihavetogive · 3 years

Text

no body, no crime - allison argent x reader

(gif source)

Summary: When y/n disappears after confronting her husband about his affair, Allison takes matters into her own hands. Based on “no body, no crime (feat. HAIM)” by taylor swift [x]. You can find the mood board for this fic here

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: cursing, infidelity, implied kidnapping, implied murder, murder, alleged murder, alleged/implied death of reader, reader is married to a man with a j name 🤢

a/n: hi everyone! it’s been a hot minute since i posted a new fic & this is why. i’ve been working on this since late december of 2020, so this is the longest i’ve ever spent on a stand-alone work. i’ll include more gory details about the writing process at the end if you’re interested :)

dedicated to: elle (@demxters) for all of her help and ideas! this fic literally wouldn’t have gotten finished without her, send her some love <3

this is also dedicated to caoimhe (@free-pool-trash) for not murdering me after i gave her a preview several weeks ago and then just ✨stopped writing✨

master list

Este's a friend of mine

We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine

“Hey!” Allison greeted cheerily as she met y/n at their usual table tucked in the corner of their favorite restaurant. y/n returned the brunette’s smile as she stood up to hug her friend, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Allison saw through y/n’s facade and furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” she asked as concern spread across her features.

“I think Justin is having an affair,” y/n admitted. The statement dropped like a bomb between the two women, causing Allison to nearly spew the wine in her mouth all over the table. She coughed a few times and drank some water to clear her throat before she composed herself enough to ask questions.

“What happened? Did you see something?” Allison asked hesitantly. Her mind was still reeling from the mere concept of y/n’s husband cheating on her. Sure, Justin had never been Allison’s favorite guy, but it was normal for girls to think that no guy would ever be good enough for their best friend. Right?

Her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity

She says, "That ain't my merlot on his mouth"

"That ain't my jewelry on our joint account"

y/n explained what had been going on over the past few weeks. Justin had been acting distant, which wasn’t too abnormal, but when he started coming home from work much later than his shifts ended and disappearing at odd hours of the night, y/n got concerned. The day that she had planned to approach him about everything and ask if anything was wrong, she got a call from her bank while driving home from work.

“Hi Mrs. y/l/n, this is Kathy from the bank. I’m calling to inform you that there have been a few large cash withdrawals from your joint account recently under your husband’s name, as well as a pretty expensive purchase yesterday at the jeweler,” the rest of Kathy’s words sounded muffled to y/n. It was nowhere near her birthday, Valentine’s day, or their anniversary, so y/n didn’t know what he could possibly be spending all their money on.

The next incident came a few days later when both y/n and Justin were home. y/n’s husband was in the shower and his phone buzzed with a new text message alert. Typically, y/n was never the type to snoop on her husband’s phone, but she figured she should check in case it was a work message. At least that’s how she justified it in her head. Justin had saved the sender’s number under the contact name “Spam Risk.” It was clever, y/n had to give him credit for that at least. Upon further inspection, y/n quickly realized that those texts weren’t sent from a telemarketer bot.

6:24 p.m. I can’t wait to see you tonight, baby - Spam Risk

6:25 p.m. Don’t keep me waiting too long ;) - Spam Risk

y/n thought the messages were strange, but the picture that followed the messages was definitely what threw y/n for a loop. There, on her husband’s text message thread, was a racy photo of a woman’s body that definitely wasn’t hers. y/n was quite literally stunned to silence as she dropped the phone back down onto the dresser. For the rest of the night, y/n was numb and quiet, not that Justin noticed. Then, like clockwork, he left the house at 11 p.m. with no explanation of where he was going or when he would be back.

By the end of y/n’s story, Allison’s mouth was open so wide she was sure her jaw would hit the table.

“What are you going to do?” Allison whispered, still in shock. y/n grimaced before clearing her throat and speaking her next words with finality.

No, there ain't no doubt

I think I'm gonna call him out

Este wasn't there

Tuesday night at Olive Garden at her job or anywhere

“Hi, there should be a reservation for two under Allison Argent or y/n y/l/n for tonight,” Allison greeted warmly as she approached the hostess stand at their go-to girl’s night restaurant.

“Right this way, ma’am,” the hostess said with a smile as she grabbed two menus and led her towards their usual table. Two menus. That must mean that y/n wasn’t there yet? Allison thought it was strange, y/n almost always was the first of the two to arrive. Allison brushed off the thought as she thanked the hostess and sat down. She had intended to look over the menu, but the strangeness of it all wouldn’t leave her mind. y/n was late. She was never late. Allison pulled out her phone to text her best friend, and it then occurred to her that she hadn’t heard from y/n since last week. Allison had been away on a “work” trip with her dad for the past six days and had just gotten back into town. After 30 minutes of sitting at the table alone, half a dozen unanswered text messages, and even more calls sent straight to voicemail, Allison dropped a few bills on the table and left.

As Allison pulled out of the parking lot, she turned on the radio in a futile attempt to drown out some of her racing thoughts. Between songs the radio host took to the mic to make an announcement.

“Hello Beacon Hills, we now interrupt your regularly scheduled listening with an urgent message from the Sheriff's department. Speaking now is Sheriff Noah Stilinski,” the host trailed off before there was a brief crackle as the audio transitioned to the Sheriff’s press briefing. Allison turned up the volume as the Sheriff’s voice carried across the radio.

“Thank you all for attending and tuning in. It is with great displeasure and a heavy heart that I inform you all that y/n y/l/n has been reported missing. Shortly after 8 a.m. this morning, we were informed by her husband that she didn’t show up for work yesterday morning and also didn’t come home last night,” Sheriff Stilinski continued speaking but it all began to sound like white noise to Allison. It took everything she had in her to focus on not veering off the road so that she could head to the Sheriff’s station and speak to Stilinski in person.

Conveniently, her route took her right past y/n and Justin’s house. Allison didn’t know what to expect as she sped by their house, but the fact that Justin’s normally filthy truck had been cleaned and waxed definitely caught her eye. The truck and driveway were soon out of sight due to the speed she was driving at, but at first glance, it looked as though his tires and grill had been replaced.

He reports his missing wife

And I noticed when I passed his house his truck has got some brand new tires

About a week had passed since y/n had been reported missing. Allison wasn’t sure how many search parties had been held, but they all resulted in the same thing: nothing. There wasn’t a single trace of her best friend, in fact, everything in Beacon Hills looked completely unchanged and normal. Allison’s focus and appetite seemed to have left with her other half, try as she might to desperately hold onto them. Her marksmanship had even been affected, something that hadn’t happened since high school.

Allison started driving around town during her free time. She wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, she mostly did it to try to clear her mind, though most times she was unsuccessful. She’d been mindlessly taking right and left turns and before she realized where she was, she passed y/n’s house.

Allison hadn’t planned to slow down as she passed the house, it was a mindless act if anything. Seeing a moving truck backed up to the house while Justin and some unfamiliar blonde woman were unloading boxes ensured that her decision to park her car where it couldn’t be seen and spy on the pair wasn’t mindless. Despite her gut telling her not to, Allison decided to give Justin the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he needed a roommate now since y/n couldn’t pay her share of the rent? Allison tried her best to keep all of her judgments and suspicions at bay as she watched the otherwise uneventful event unfold while biting her fingernails.

A few boxes later, Justin pulled the blonde in by her waist and kissed her with a fervor that would make most people blush. Allison’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she sat there in shock with her mouth wide open. It took a while, mostly because the kiss lasted for an obnoxious amount of time, but Allison finally regained control of her body. It was like her brain had to go through a hard reset before she was able to face the reality of the situation.

y/n was right. Justin was cheating on her. Not only that, but Justin had cheated on y/n, spent less than a week grieving her disappearance, then allowed this to happen.

And his mistress moved in

Sleeps in Este's bed and everything

Allison found out that Justin Smith’s mistress’s name was Rebecca Baker. She was a few years younger than y/n and she worked at the same company as Justin. It didn’t take long for Allison to hack into both of their iCloud accounts. A few hours of scrolling later she was really regretting her decision, especially when she got to Justin’s messages to Rebecca about y/n.

2:47 a.m. What about your wife? - Spam Risk

2:47 a.m. What about her? - Justin

2:48 a.m. Are you going to leave her or kick her out or something? - Spam Risk

2:48 a.m. It’s been taken care of. - Justin

2:48 a.m. Taken care of? Justin, what does that mean? - Spam Risk

2:49 a.m. Justin??? - Spam Risk

Each new message ensured that bits of Allison’s fingernails had been gnawed off while her left hand fidgeted anxiously in front of her mouth. Allison decided that those messages were probably the most incriminating thing she’d find digitally, but the time and date stamps caught her eye. The texts were sent early Monday morning, the day that y/n allegedly left home and then didn’t show up for work or return home.

A chill spread from deep within Allison’s bones up to the surface of her skin, making goosebumps appear. Allison didn’t know what exactly, but she knew something terrible had happened to y/n and Justin had something to do with it. She shut her laptop a little harder than necessary as a resolved look spread across her face.

No, there ain't no doubt

Somebody's gotta catch him out

Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen

Allison regularly accessed her personal armory, whether it was to prepare for a job or pack for a trip to the shooting range, but it had been a while since a powerful and unforgiving feeling hung over her shoulders. Allison carefully ran her fingers over her custom silver arrowheads as she considered her options. Her father’s words from one of her adolescent archery lessons rung in her head.

“The type of bow and arrows you use doesn’t matter. As long as you use them right, you’ll be able to make any shot. Don’t get hung up on the technicalities.”

Not too long after, her bag was stocked with her essentials: a bow, her trusted black leather archery glove, as well as a handful of arrows, though these ones lacked the silver heads she typically reserved for more exotic expeditions.

The rare dark clouds in the California sky at sunset were reflected in Allison’s cold eyes. The drive to her target’s house was familiar, the turns she made were almost instinctual. Normally these roads reminded her of her coffee dates with y/n and nights they spent talking for hours until sunlight crept through the windows. Now, her mind was blank and her heart was devoid of all emotion.

Even though Allison had disabled her car’s GPS earlier, she parked her car about a mile away from his house. When she was done, there wouldn’t be any evidence that could be traced back to her. She memorized his schedule; at 5:00 p.m. his shift ended and recently he’d been getting home by 5:20. His girlfriend got home sometime between 5:30 and 5:45, but she would leave for her pilates class around 6:30 and wouldn’t get home until 7:45. Allison had just over an hour window to get the job done, but it wouldn’t take that long. If everything went according to plan, she’d be off the property within a few minutes of taking the shot.

When she arrived her target had just come home from work and was alone in the house. She waited patiently, hidden by the trees that the property backed up to. She watched as he moved around through the open curtains and then as his girlfriend entered the house and kissed him with a passion that made Allison’s stomach churn. She watched as they ate dinner together, as her target’s girlfriend got ready for her gym class, and watched as she got in her car and drove away. When Allison checked her watch it was only 6:25 p.m., she had far more time than she needed.

The plan was simple, really. Under the cover of darkness, she’d flip the breakers, effectively cutting the power. When her target came out to investigate, she’d let him fumble around in the darkness for a while. He’d always been a paranoid individual, so it wouldn’t take much to get him on edge. A rustle in the bushes here, a small snapped tree branch there, and then something that would get his attention. Allison wanted his eyes to be on her when she took the shot.

Allison’s target was watching TV so he knew immediately when the power went out, plus the fact that the once illuminated house was suddenly bathed in darkness. The high-pitched yelp that escaped his throat almost made Allison laugh. She had to keep quiet though, at least for now. As expected, the dopey man scurried around to the side of the house where the breakers were located in no time. The batteries in the flashlight he held were on their last leg, that much was evident in the way the light beam flickered every few seconds.

Just as he opened the door to the circuit breaker panel, Allison moved. A rustle here. The sound practically echoed in the silence of the night, causing the man to whip around and shine his flashlight directly at the source of the noise. There was nothing there. It’s just the wind, he reasoned before getting back to work. After a few switches had been flipped - none of them for the outdoor lights - he heard another noise. This one was much louder than the last, a small snapped tree branch there. Again, the flashlight’s flickering light beam uncovered nothing, but it was enough to make all of the hairs on the back of Allison’s target’s neck stand up straight. He hastily flipped the rest of the breakers and the outdoor lights finally came on.

When yellow light from the backyard fixtures flooded the area, both Allison and her target were revealed. Allison stood a considerable distance away from the man, but she was close enough to see the blood drain from his face and his Adam's apple bob. When his eyes darted to the bow hung by her side, realization dawned on his face. He began to turn away with the intention of running, but Allison’s voice held him frozen in place.

“Don’t move,” she ordered quietly without any aggression behind her tone. Her face wasn’t threatening, she just looked calm and focused. Allison’s smooth features and peaceful expression was what scared the man the most.

“I- I’m sorry- I didn’t-” he stammered out, his arms and legs beginning to tremble.

“Shh,” Allison chastised as she raised her bow, loading it with an arrow. Her fingers moved with precision, her muscles knew this routine well.

“Please don’t- no, you can’t, you can’t do this!” the man pleaded. He wasn’t above begging on his knees, but Allison wasn’t about to give him the chance. Her gaze was sharply focused on her target, the view of her tightly grasped bow in her peripheral vision.

“Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.”

When Allison’s fingers let go of the bowstring the arrow flew smoothly through the air. The only sounds heard were the arrowhead piercing skin and the man wordlessly falling to the ground. The arrow went straight through his heart. Maybe Allison’s shot landed right where she intended. Maybe there was a metaphor in there. Allison checked her wristwatch, the numbers 6:45 shining back at her. An entire hour to spare.

Time to take out the trash.

I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene

The job didn’t take long at all and it was definitely one of Allison’s least challenging ones, but it still felt nice to take a hot shower and sit in front of her fireplace with a cup of tea. The fire served a dual purpose; the crackles of the burning wood soothed her like a lullaby while the flames licked around and destroyed her bloody clothes from earlier. All of her equipment had been cleaned and put away, positioned exactly as it had been before. Everything was the same, nothing changed or out of place. There was just one less heartbeat in the world that night.

Good thing Este's sister's gonna swear she was with me

On the second day of the trial, Rebecca Baker’s lawyers were throwing whatever they could against the wall to see if something would stick. That morning they began to argue that Allison Argent might’ve abducted and murdered Justin Smith in retaliation for y/n’s disappearance. It was all speculation at best, but the theory unfortunately made sense to the jury. Before things could get too far, the prosecution called its first witness of the day to the stand.

“Mrs. Martin, where were you on the night of Mr. Smith’s suspected disappearance?” the prosecution lawyer questioned calmly.

“I was with Allison at my house. We were having a girls night in, you can check my security cameras,” Lydia answered confidently. Lydia still had a pocketful of favors from her MIT days, so when the jurors were shown the clips from Lydia’s home security cameras, they saw exactly what they would’ve expected based on Lydia’s testimony.

Truth be told, Lydia didn’t know anything about what happened that night; including Allison’s whereabouts and any details related to Justin’s alleged demise. All she knew was that Allison called and asked for a simple favor - an alibi for just a few hours. Lydia didn’t ask questions and Allison didn’t give answers.

Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy

On the third day of the trial, Rebecca Baker took the stand. Her lawyers tried to help her as best they could, but the prosecution was ruthless. All of the evidence was circumstantial at best - all parties, including the judge and jurors, knew that - but it was enough to make everyone reconsider the spotless image the defense had tried to create for Ms. Baker.

“Ms. Baker, is it true that you knowingly engaged in a romantic relationship while Justin Smith was married to and living with his wife?” another one of the prosecution’s attorneys began.

“Yes,” Rebecca replied meekly. Allison internally scoffed from her seat in the gallery. She found irony in the fact that Rebecca didn’t find any humility or shame in sleeping with another woman’s husband until she was under oath.

“Is it also true that within approximately a week of Mrs. y/l/n’s disappearance, you moved into Mr. Smith and Mrs. y/l/n’s house?”

“That is correct,” Rebecca said as she began to wring her hands together anxiously. The judge tapped his wrist watch and shot a stern look towards the prosecutor. The man nodded in response and continued to his final points.

“I’ll wrap up my questions for you, Ms. Baker. Can you confirm that shortly after moving in with Mr. Smith, multiple legal and financial arrangements and adjustments were made? And these new arrangements make you the sole beneficiary of Mr. Smith’s life issuance policy, assets, and investments?”

By the end of the prosecution’s final question, every jury member and spectator sat up straighter and waited to hear Rebecca’s response with bated breath. The blonde ball of nerves sighed defeatedly before turning to face the attorney directly as she answered his question.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“No further questions, your honor.” As the lead prosecutor returned to the plaintiff’s table, Rebecca’s attorney stood up to address the judge.

“Your honor, the defense would like to request a brief recess,” the defense attorney nearly pleaded. Though his poker face was much better than his client’s, it was clear that he was getting nervous.

“We’ll reconvene in 15 minutes,” the judge ordered with a stern glare cast towards Rebecca.

They think she did it but they just can't prove it

It soon became clear to Rebecca that the recess her legal team requested was nothing more than a “kiss your dignity goodbye” meeting. If she hadn’t been queasy before the recess was called, she definitely was upon re-entering the courtroom.

The rest of the trial seemed to move in slow motion for Rebecca. A few more witnesses were called to the stand, more lackluster evidence was presented, both sides made their closing arguments, and the jury left to discuss the verdict. After what felt like an eternity, the jury returned with an official decision.

Silence settled over the room as a single juror stood to address the court.

“The jury finds the defendant not guilty on count 1 of murder in the first degree based on lack of sufficient evidence. The jury finds the defendant not guilty on count 2 of kidnapping based on lack of sufficient evidence. The jury finds the defendant guilty on count 3 of insurance fraud based on…”

The rest of the jurors’ statement sounded like white noise to Rebecca. She was just barely coherent enough to hear the judge deliver her punishment a few minutes later. $50,000 fine and 200 hours of community service.

Allison stuck around to the bitter end of the trial to hear the verdict in person. In all honesty, Allison didn’t want Rebecca to go to jail. It wouldn’t be right for her to serve time for a crime she didn’t commit, but Allison did find satisfaction in the fact that Rebecca would soon be picking up garbage in a fluorescent orange vest.

After the majority of the spectators had vacated the courtroom gallery, Allison leisurely gathered her things. Justice had been served to Justin, she personally made sure of that, and now justice had been served to Rebecca. The blonde and brunette women briefly locked eye contact as Allison made her way towards the exit.

“You did this,” Rebecca whispered to Allison. Suddenly, it was like a flip switched within her. One moment she was numb, yet calm and collected, and the next moment she was screaming (literal) bloody murder and had to be held back by her lawyers.

“YOU DID THIS! YOU KILLED JUSTIN, YOU BITCH!” Rebecca cried, though her words fell on deaf ears. Allison exited the courtroom with her head held high as the courtroom deputy and defense lawyers did their best to calm the hysterical woman.

She thinks I did it but she just can't prove it

A week later the court case was still on Allison’s mind but the emotional scars had begun to scab. Healing was never a straight or smooth path, Allison had learned that the hard way over the years, but this was a start.

y/n’s landlord had been generous enough to allow Allison to gather y/n’s things before he cleaned out the house for new renters. As Allison walked through the home she once considered to be an extension of her own, she felt her throat dry out and tighten up. She hadn’t realized she was crying until she was wiping salty tears off of the picture frames she’d carefully picked up. Each photo unlocked a new memory, some even elicited a chuckle out of Allison amidst her tears.

A photo from y/n’s wedding day stood out among all the rest as Allison’s eyes jumped from frame to frame. It was a candid shot Lydia had taken while they were in y/n’s dressing room before the ceremony. y/n looked as beautiful as ever in her flowy white gown and Allison’s mulberry maid of honor dress complemented it well. As Allison put the final touches on y/n’s hair and makeup, y/n fastened the clasp of a custom necklace behind Allison’s neck. On a thin, medium-length chain hung an arrowhead from the first time Allison had ever tried to teach y/n how to shoot a bow and arrow. y/n failed miserably, but it was a cherished memory for both girls. Since that day, Allison had only taken the necklace off a handful of times.

Allison smiled bittersweetly at the memory and wiped a fresh tear off of the decorative frame before pulling her necklace out from underneath her shirt. She pressed a gentle kiss to the cool silver arrowhead and then to the photo frame, right above y/n’s styled hair.

A feeling that Allison couldn’t quite explain flowed through her body just then; it was like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being stuck underwater or seeing the gentle rays of the sun for the first time after a hurricane, it felt like freedom. Allison felt almost as if y/n was right there next to her, with her head resting on Allison's shoulder and wrapping her arms around the brunette’s torso. In that moment, Allison somehow wordlessly knew with every fiber in her being that y/n was finally at peace.

No, no body, no crime

I wasn't letting up until the day he died

a/n: AHHHH DID YOU LIKE IT? it was kind of a wild ride from start to finish and i definitely shed a few tears while i was writing it. please lmk what you think!

okay, now onto the writing process from hell: i started drafting ideas for the fic on dec. 21 or 22 of 2020, after i put together a mood board. i had written more than half of the fic when i decided i hated it and scrapped the whole thing on xmas eve (~3000 words 🤡). after that i was kinda in a rut and couldn’t decide how i wanted to end the fic so i ended up writing and deleting ~2500 words over the past month and a half. @demxters is an absolute GODDESS and helped me come up with the ending, so i am eternally grateful to her for that. if any of this seems a lil strange it’s probably because i finished writing it at 4:45 a.m. after working on it for 3ish hours straight. have a great day lovelies!

join my tag list!

@dashkana @rogershoe @basicbibitxh @sweetfairyprincess17 @samkysnks @ellxpsismm @pure-ghost @lilyspells @ineedyourskulls @loveheathens @plq-cid @linkpk88 @grace-wade-08 @brithedemonspawn @fanfichoex @wistful-chaos @silveralma @malfoysadore @miss-i-ship-it @sonnydoesrandomshit

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empire-of-wildfire · 3 years

Text

HOLIDAY SURPRISE

A @starseternalnighttriumphant X @empire-of-wildfire CHRISTMAS MINI-FIC COLLABORATION

a/n: here’s the first part guys!! We hope you guys enjoy it! Sorry for those of you that saw this yesterday, I’m not sure why tumblr decided to post it almost 24 hours early. Send me or Hannah @starseternalnighttriumphant an ask if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Cassian Laskaris’s personal phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, causing him to frown. Almost no one bothered him on his phone while he was at work, so he fished it out of the deep pocket and looked at the name that flashed on the screen. A sigh followed by a small smirk, he answered the call and put the phone up to his ear.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Funny,” Rhys answered, voice full of amusement. “I was just checking for cold feet.”

“Are you sure you meant to call me and not Feyre?” Cassian drawled.

“Hers are warm and currently playing footsie with mine.” There was a shuffle and Feyre’s tinkling laugh in the background. “I just want to make sure you’re actually coming.”

Rhys’s worry was genuine, but it still grated Cassian’s nerves. He had promised his found brother he would be there for his wedding, and Cassian was many things, but he never broke his promises to the people he loved.

“Yes, bastard brother of mine,” Cassian sighed, spinning in his office chair. “I leave in the morning. I’ll see your ugly face tomorrow.”

His door opened, a beautiful dark haired, deeply tanned skin woman walking in, her hips swinging. Emerie smirked at him, holding a folder, and he took his time dragging his eyes over her. She looked extremely good in that tight black dress and he wanted to—

“Are you still there?”

“Sorry,” Cassian muttered, leashing his dirty thoughts. Now wasn’t the time. “Yes, Rhys, I’ll be there. I have everything set up, I’ll see you around one or two p.m.”

He hung up before Rhys could say anything else, turning his womanizing smile towards Emerie. She had started at the firm less than a year ago, and Cassian knew he shouldn’t have spent most of the time fooling around with her. But she was a good distraction, and she didn’t want anything from him besides friendship with benefits. She was also the only woman that had lasted this long in the past four years since he’d left Velaris. Most women only made it a few weeks, maybe a month or two.

“Dinner tonight before I leave?” he asked as she handed him the folder containing his next high profile law case.

“My pleasure,” she purred, winking as she left.

Despite Rhys’s protests, Cassian had decided to rent a car and stay at one of the two hotels in Velaris. He hadn’t been home once in four years; he felt awkward even being back in his old stomping grounds without the subtle tension his presence in Rhys and Feyre’s home would bring. He didn’t fit in anymore, and though his brother would never admit it, Cassian knew it was better to keep a distance. And he knew Rhys and Feyre would be busy with wedding planning, and his intrusion in their house would probably create more stress since he was staying through Christmas until the day after New Years, their wedding on the very first day of the year. Rhys and Feyre were disgustingly romantic like that.

After checking into the hotel and letting Rhys know he was on his way, Cassian decided last minute to take the scenic route to his brother’s home. He wasn’t sure what had pushed him to do it; curiosity, maybe. He hadn’t been home in four years.

Velaris hadn’t changed much in the years since he’d been gone. Honestly it was like looking into a time capsule— everything was almost identical to how it had been when he’d blown out of town to chase his dreams. Driving through the small town, he was immediately transported back in time to his high school and college days.

Ahead on his right was the park where he’d met Feyre, Nesta, and Elain not long after the Archeron family had moved to Velaris. He still remembered that night perfectly: he’d been having a normal conversation with Azriel when Feyre walked over, her sisters in tow, and his entire world had stopped the moment his eyes fell on Nesta. She was without a doubt the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Dressed simply in a gray t-shirt dress and sandals, her long golden brown hair was braided around her head. Cassian remembered marveling, knowing that something so intricate had to have taken quite a bit of time. Nesta hadn’t appreciated the staring, and made sure to tell him as much as soon as she walked up to him.

He abruptly shook himself out of the memory, trying to focus on driving so he didn’t get lost in his past and the girl who still haunted his dreams even four years later. But then just a bit further down the road, there was the restaurant where he’d taken her on their first date, almost a year after he’d met her. It had taken him so long to get her to go out with him, he honestly thought she’d just agreed to get him to leave her alone. But that night he’d walked her to the door and he’d said goodnight, not wanting to push her too far. He had moved to leave when she’d grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him. Nesta was the kind of girl who knew what she wanted, even back then, and that first kiss broke and remade him all at once.

The entire drive to Rhys’s house was a lot of the same. He passed their spot, a hidden trail leading back to a small lake that he’d taken Nesta to after six months of dating, which was where they had their first time. He still sometimes got embarrassed at how awkward he’d been then. He passed the Archeron’s old house, now occupied by a different family, which was where he told her he loved her for the first time. Everywhere he turned, memories of him and Nesta haunted him like a ghost. It left him unsettled, that despite years of silence and trying to forget and move on, Nesta was still so much a part of who he was.

He was glad when he finally pulled Rhys’s driveway, able to put the memories of the past to bed and focus on the present. His excitement at being home increased exponentially as he got out of the car; he’d missed his brothers, and despite how infrequently they communicated he still loved his family fiercely.

He knocked on the door twice and within seconds it was opening. He hadn’t expected it to be the tall and lithe woman his brother had been in love with nearly a decade, but his grin was genuine as Feyre laughed in delight and all but jumped into his arms, hugging him tight. He wrapped a strong arm around her, hefting her up as he pushed further into their house. He set her down and he ruffled her hair when she looked back at him.

She batted his hand away. “I was worried I wouldn’t recognize you.”

He raised a brow. “I’m hurt. It’s only been a few years.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and turned towards the staircase. “Rhys, my favorite brother is here!”

Cassian laughed as Rhys came down the stairs, shaking his head. “Gone four years and you’re already trying to steal my fiancée, brother.”

The two hugged firmly, and Cassian tried to ignore the tightness in his throat. He remembered the last time he’d seen Rhys in person. It had been a year after he left, and his brother had all but begged him to come home. But Cassian had been so entrenched in his work, climbing up the ladder at the law office he’d joined, and he’d refused. It had led to a huge argument, and though it had long since been resolved, Cassian still thought about it almost everyday.

“It’s good to see you,” Rhys told him, clapping him on the shoulder. “I hope you’re ready for some wedding planning because we have about five more seconds before Feyre darling sends you out on a task.”

Feyre’s slim hand smacked Rhys’s arm. “I was going to ease him into it.”

Cassian huffed a laugh, meeting his future sister-in-law’s eyes. “Tell me what you need.”

Feyre rattled off that she needed him to pick up all the stationary waiting at the printing shop, place cards and thank you notes and custom signs to scatter around the wedding venue. She gave him the receipt and told him where it was, even though it was unnecessary. It seemed that nothing had changed in this small town, and that included the local printing shop. He was willing to bet it was still owned by the same old woman that had printed their graduation announcements so many years ago.

The shop was near the town center, and he parked on the side of the road next to the library. He got out and looked at the towering structure, knowing that it used to be the town hall hundreds of years ago when Velaris used to only have a few hundred people. Now it was the library, and his mind drifted back to spending summers there, doing book reports on books he never actually read. He remembered finding Nesta there the next week after he’d met her and her sisters, nestled in a quiet corner with a book in her hands.

He’d been surprised; he’d only known her for a week but she had struck him as the reading type. He remembered he had come up to her to talk to her and she’d hid the book behind her back, a light blush staining her cheeks, taking his breath away which he had tried to hide with a laugh. He’d managed to grab the book from her hands and saw that it was one of the smutty romances that were in the adult section that he and his brothers had snickered at as young teens.

A slight smile turned his lips up as he remembered how embarrassed and angry she’d been, and how she’d gotten him back by “accidentally” spilling her drink all over his pants during lunch. He’d been mocked for weeks.

He blinked, pulling himself out of the memory, shaking his head slightly. Gods, he was going to go insane if he stayed in this town longer than he had to. It was bad enough he was here for over a week. He’d have to stay holed up in his hotel room as much as possible if he wanted to escape wave after wave of memories and nostalgia that seemed to crash into him without any warning.

Cassian headed down the street and grabbed all the wedding stationary from the printing shop. Sure enough, it was that same old lady. And she’d been delighted that he was back in town, patting his cheeks and telling him to come by before he left. He’d given her his charming grin, but he’d left feeling… off.

The drive back to Rhys and Feyre’s house was a blur, trying not to let his mind wander as he pulled into the driveway. Hefting the large paper bags that held everything Feyre had ordered, he walked up the steps and reached for the doorknob with his free hand.

The door opened before his fingers even brushed the cool metal, a figure he’d almost mistaken as Feyre standing in the doorway. She was dressed in dark blue scrubs, her golden brown hair braided in that all too familiar crown around her head. Her smooth, flawless face froze in an expression of pure shock, her full lips falling open as she stared at him.

He knew his own mouth was hanging open, his heart in his throat as he met the steel blue gaze of the woman he had known better than he’d known himself. A woman he’d loved fiercely for almost seven years, a face that haunted his dreams even when he tried so hard to forget her.

He hadn’t seen her, handn’t heard from her, hadn’t even heard her voice in four years but Nesta Archeron’s silky tone still managed to raise goosebumps along his skin as she blurted out, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

@werewolffprince

@schmlip-scribble

@justgiu12

@westofmoon

@legallyhermione

@love-is-a-contradiction

@shyvioletcat

@oversizedbats

@superspiritfestival

@ladywitchling

@highqueenofelfhame

@disgreisful

@empress-ofbloodshed

@lovemollywho

@rocky99

#holiday surprise #holiday surprise 1 #hs1 #nessian #starseternalnighttriumphant x empire of wildfire

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

4 times he wanted to come over + one time he did

Ok, we’re going to ignore several things here, like the fact that this was an 8 page Google Doc that I put together in a few hours, the fact that said document had been blank since June, t y p o s, and the fact that it’s nearly three am and I have my first day of classes technically today (aka at 2 pm).

But here I am, with my second fic of the day? IDK but since classes are starting, my posts are going to be a lot less frequent, so hopefully you guys like this! -------------------

one

Your apartment was finally put together just the way you liked it; all your stuff had its place, it was decorated just the way you liked it, you even had a pantry full of food, a rare feat when you were in college even with living with three other girls. Your first morning in your new, fully set up place was going to be celebrated by yourself. You had planned to make yourself breakfast that would probably last into lunch, order Chinese food later that night, drink coffee and watch Seinfeld on Hulu until you felt like going to sleep. There was no better way to break in a new place than by just relaxing in it.

You turn on your TV, setting your coffee and plate down on the table in front of your couch, and walk over to the huge windows you were lucky enough to have in the apartment. It was a picture-perfect day, and the sun shined right into your apartment, not a single cloud in the blue sky. You felt like you were in a movie like someone had curated the scene and that with the touch of a button, the green screen would be gone and so would the magic.

Sitting down, putting your feet up on the table, you dig in. This was actually perfect for you. Your new job was going to be stressful and you knew it. The more you could find ways to relax in your home, the better the job would be.

After three episodes and nearly spilling your coffee all over you twice, you decide to get up and move around. You were drawn back to your windows, still in awe at the scene on the other side of them. Across the street, it looks like someone was doing the same in their apartment. He was tall, handsome, shirtless, and covered with tattoos that you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of.

He waves at you smiling in a way that made you melt. It took everything in you to wave back and not do something stupid, mentally thanking yourself that the pajamas you had been wearing were athletic shorts and a tshirt from your sorority, and not something more embarrassing.

You go back to your couch, knowing that he could still see you and probably what you were watching. You couldn’t focus on the episode, feeling as if he were still there watching you. You tried to force yourself not to steal glances at him but failed, every so often seeing him mirroring your actions, watching TV on his couch. You didn’t know that the entire time, he was also stealing glances at you. He couldn’t help it; never before had he seen someone look so naturally beautiful, so in their element and carefree while just sitting and watching TV.

“Fuck it,” you say to yourself, pausing mid-episode and getting up to find the paper, markers, and tape you know you had stashed somewhere.

Messily scrawling ‘I just moved in, nice to meet you,’ on a piece of paper, you tape it up on the window, praying that you wrote it big and dark enough that he could see it. Sighing when he wasn’t still on the couch, you get back on your own and press play on the TV again.

Where could he have gone? And why were you more invested in the handsome stranger on the other side of the street than you were in the show about nothing that you had grown up watching?

Your stomach growls, not quite late enough to order dinner, you wander into your kitchen to get a snack, looking over to the window of handsome man to see that he had left a note, presumably for you. ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Pierre-Luc’ was written in print messier than that of a doctor’s. Thank god your best friend growing up had the world’s worst writing, having to ask him to rewrite it would have been demeaning and embarrassing.

And so it began: you would write a note, watch an episode, then check to see if he left you anything back. He always did,

His name was Pierre-Luc and he played hockey. After a quick google search, unbeknownst to him since you were assuming he couldn’t see what was on your phone, you found that he was a professional hockey player, player for the Blue Jackets. Great, as if he weren’t already being sweet, asking you questions, leaving you charmingly flirty messages on his window for you, now he was an athlete? Quite possibly one of the sexiest types of men in your opinion? Great. Amazing.

‘What’s for dinner?’ he leaves on his window, disappearing somewhere into his apartment.

‘Ideally Chinese food, where do you suggest?’ is what you leave for him, scrolling through Uber eats to see what was cheapest and nearby. You look up, seeing him writing on a notepad his answer, taping it to his window before sending you what you could swear was a wink.

‘Best place to eat out is here at my place,” you read, bursting out laughing. Confident, this one.

You roll your eyes, leaving a cheeky message about sticking to Chinese food and just ordering it from the first place that came up.

The night went on, you not realizing you had spent the whole day flirting with a window stranger. He had liked talking to you, too, but it was pretty bad for the environment to be wasting all this paper when he could clearly see the phone that was in your hand or on your table. Writing his number on what he hoped would be his final piece of paper, maybe you would invite him over. Or he could invite you over. There was something about you that he wanted to spend time with you, not flirt with you while a city street separates you. Taping the paper up, he can see you, fast asleep on the couch, your TV screen asking you if you were still there.

Closing his curtains, he hoped that you would use the number soon so you could actually spend time with him.

Two

You had been feeding that cat every morning for over a month. You loved that stray cat; there was a weird sense of satisfaction in feeding her even though you knew your apartment building wouldn’t allow you to take her in as a pet. But of course, the day you had your friends coming over for dinner was the day you had to run to the store to buy more cat food because you ran out the day before and forgot to get some yesterday. You didn’t know who put food out for the cat at night, or even if anyone did.

You go to the bowl sitting in the alley way, seeing that it was empty, confirming your suspicion that no one else fed the poor cat. You would have to start feeding it at night, too.

“Sorry, you don’t have to do this,” you hear someone say behind you. You get up to see him, the man from the window.

“Pierre-Luc? Why don’t I have to do this?”

“Because I’ve been doing it.”

“No, I have,” you argue, knowing that this would lead to a never-ending circle of ‘me, no me.’ You had been texting each other for a few weeks, constantly trying to figure out when you could spend time together, but much like you and your best friend during senior year of college, your schedules never matched up, going a year before finally seeing each other.

“When?” he asks, a cocky smile dancing across his face.

“Every morning before work, what about you,” you ask, getting closer to him. You text relationship was flirty, you were sure of it. Every time you passed by your window when he was home, he made a point to check you out, he winked at you, he smiled. He exuded a welcome confidence that you weren’t used to.

“Every day when I get back from practice.”

“What about the days that you’re away for games?”

“I figured someone would feed him for me.”

“The cat’s a girl,” you say, the little feline coming up to you. “You would know that if you didn’t just assume other people were doing what you set out to do in the first place.”

“Well, my assumption was correct, wasn’t it?” he says, a devilish twinkle in his eye as his tongue runs along his bottom lip.

“You know what they say about assuming,” you tell him, breaking your eye contact to put out some food for the purring animal.

“What’s that?”

“It makes an ass outta you and me,” you tell him, looking up at him towering over you as a laugh leaving his lips. Given his demeanor, you wouldn’t expect him to look as, what’s the right word, jolly? As he did.

“How come you’re feeding her now if you usually do it in the morning?” he asks, bending down to help you.

Feeling your phone buzzing in your pocket that signaled your friends were already there waiting for you, you tell him, “I ran out of food yesterday and didn’t have the chance to get more until after work. Plus, I needed to pick some stuff up for tonight, anyway.”

“Tonight?” he asks, his head snapping up. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit, ran through his head.

“Yeah, my friends are coming over for dinner. It’s the first time they’ll be seeing my new place.” You pause for a minute. He was here, obviously with some free time, but did you want his first time over your place to be surrounded by your nosy friends? They knew you were talking to an attractive neighbor, but you knew they would say things to him that would mortify you and send you running before he got the chance.

But like the night you first moved in, fuck it. “Are you free tonight? I would love for you to come over,” you tell him, the smile on his face disappearing as soon as you asked.

“I have a game tonight, I can’t. I was actually about to change and then leave,” he says, looking sad. He wanted to come over, and as soon as you said you were having friends over, he knew that you were going to ask him.

“Oh, that’s fine. Now I have a reason to watch a game, though,” you tell him, smiling. You had to admit, you were a little bit upset, but again, it was probably for the best that he didn’t meet your friends just yet.

“If the game ends early enough, I’ll stop by, yeah?” he suggests, running his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

Three

“Babe, you’ve lived here for like, what? Almost six months? You have a hot as fuck neighbor who you actually talk to, and he hasn’t come over yet? Why haven’t you asked him to come over?” Amy says with food in her mouth. Your friends were over, again, this time to hang out before they went out to the bars. You were originally going to go, but you were too exhausted, and having already promised to host the pregame, you weren’t going to back out now.

“You call me babe more than any guy I’ve met, you realize that right?” you ask her, getting up to go over to your window. You knew he wasn’t home; you had the Columbus game against the Flyers playing on your TV, Pierre-Luc was on the ice as you absentmindedly went over to the window to see if he was there. “Plus, our schedules never work. Look, Aimes, he’s literally on our TV, meanwhile as soon as all you hooligans leave, I’m going to bed.

“Come on, stay up for the man,” Jeff said. The only male in your group of friends, he always entered the girl talk, encouraging you to get with a guy just as much as the others.

“I’m going out to breakfast with you guys in the morning, how cranky do you want me to be, Jeffy? You know I will not hesitate to throw a potato at you,” you say, the rest of the group laughing even though they know you’re serious. You have thrown stuff at him and only him during breakfast before, him never thinking you’d have the guts to cause a scene in public, but doing it anyway.

“We all know you’d be less cranky if you got laid,” he says through a mouthful of food. Why did everyone talk with their mouths open?

“Tomorrow I’m ordering two breakfasts; one to eat and one to throw at you.”

You tune out your friends for the rest of the night. You only paid attention to the hockey game, your eyes trying to stay focused on Pierre-Luc every time he was on the ice. You did really want him to come over, but again, the first time couldn’t be with your friends, not when they were full psychopaths when it came to any boy that you were talking to. What would you have done if Pierre-Luc was there when Jeff commented about you being cranky and needed to get laid?

Why did the cute guy have to have such a complicated schedule? Every time you were free, he was to jet off somewhere in the country for a few days for games, then he would come back, sleep, go to practice, and then go to a game. From what you could tell, he never stayed up past maybe 10 pm on the nights he didn’t have games, he napped nearly every day after practices, and he really was only home to eat.

Not that you were stalking him. Or memorizing his schedule. You two talked all the time, having evolved from notes in the windows to texting, from texting to calling, from calling to him falling asleep before you while on Facetime. He was one of your best friends, and you had never actually hung out with him at your or his apartment.

“So how long will it take for him to get home now that the game is over?” Amy asks, snapping you out of the trance that you didn’t know you were in.

You didn’t even know that the game was over; the Jackets beat the Flyers 2-1, the game apparently ending about five minutes ago. You never timed how long it took between the game being over and him getting home since it was different pretty much every night. You think. Again, it’s not like you were stalking the boy. “Uh, I don’t know, half an hour?” you guess, giving them what you hoped was enough information for them to not ask you more.

“So has he sent you any like sexy pics?” Tanaka pips in, you nearly choking on the water you were drinking.

“What the ever living fuck?” you nearly scream, all your friends laughing at your reaction. “There is no way I would ever tell you. Guys, we’re friends. Yes, he’s cute, hell, he’s fucking hot, but we’ve never physically spent time together, so can we just drop it?”

They change the subject, going back to the conversation from this afternoon that involved them trying to get you to go out. You loved your friends, they were your found family, but dammit they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Wait, sorry, which apartment is his again?” Jeff asks in the middle of you telling them yet again why you weren’t going out with them.

You all snap your heads to the other building, the one directly across from you now with lights on. “That one,” you say, Pierre-Luc appearing in the window, all of your friends running up to go wave to him. This was mortifying. Your phone started buzzing on the table, and with Pierre-Luc having his phone out for his friends to see, they knew it was from him.

“What did he say!” Tanaka yells, trying to grab your phone from you.

“He said get your creepy friends away from the window,” you lie. If you told them he was asking to come over, they would steal your phone and make him come. “Guys, shouldn’t you be going by now? It’s almost 11, the deal at the bar ends at midnight and all of you are still sober,” you point out, praying that it would work.

“Let’s get drunk!” Amy says, grabbing her bag and marching out the door. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Yep, I’m going to sleep. Text me when you’re all alive!” you say, pushing them out the door.

Your phone buzzes again, Pierre-Luc asking again if he could come now that your friends were gone. You wanted to say yes, but you knew that as soon as he came over, you would be asleep. Plus he just came from a game, there was no way he wasn’t also exhausted. ‘I’m about to pass out, I’m sorry. We’ll hang out eventually, I promise’

Four

You should be back in your apartment by now. You had told Pierre-Luc that you would be home by 11 pm. You had an early day the next day and staying out late wasn’t something you wanted to do, no matter how good your date went or how attractive you thought the guy was.

Much to Pierre-Luc’s dismay, you had told him that your friend Amy had set you up with someone she knew from school. You were going out with him tonight, you Facetiming Pierre-Luc while getting ready. He should have just been over there, watching you get ready. No actually, he should have been the one taking you out, but at this point in whatever the hell relationship you had, the first thing that you were going to do in person with each other, besides that one time you fed the alley cat, was hang out in each other’s apartment.

He was pacing, checking his phone to see if you had sent him anything about your whereabouts. You should have been home by now, why weren’t you home? If you weren’t home in ten minutes, he was going to call the police. No, they wouldn’t do anything. He would figure out how to hack your phone, try to find Amy on social media, something so that he would know you were safe.

Sitting down on his couch, he positioned himself so he had a direct view of your apartment. As soon as you walked in the door and turn on the light to your living room, he would know. He needed that light to go on right now.

‘Maybe I should go over and wait outside her door? Would that be creepy?’ he thought to himself, ‘I could say that I was just checking on you, which would technically be true. It’s not like you were going to bring the guy home, right? But what if you did and then I was there sitting outside your door. I can’t ruin things for you.’

Why has it taken him so long to even get over to your place? Or for you to come over to his? He hated that your schedules were just different enough that you couldn’t meet up. You were always running out the door when he was just getting home and vice versa. He couldn’t even fathom what he would do the first time he saw you in person.

He should have just kissed you when you were feeding the cat. He knows that he wants to date you, how could he not someone who was sweet enough to do something like that for a random cat but also unafraid to chirp him like his teammates?

Your light goes on, him doing everything in his power to not jump up and go to his window, but that doesn’t stop him from watching what was happening.

Your date went well; you and David had really hit it off, leading to making out in the elevator ride up, stumbling into your apartment with your lips practically glued to his. You look across to Pierre-Luc’s apartment, him sitting there. You make eye contact with him, smiling because of David. David comes up behind you, starting to kiss you down your neck. You send a thumbs up to Pierre-Luc, closing the curtain as you let David do as he pleases.

Pierre-Luc sits on his couch, dumbfounded by what he just saw. That should have been him. He should have been the one in your apartment with you right now.

+one

Saturday morning, sitting on your couch, watching Seinfeld. A cup of coffee, your phone, and a plate with some fruit on it, much like the first full day when you moved in. The sky was cloudless and blue, but you weren’t admiring it in the same way as you were that day. You were out with David last night, one month after your first date. You thought everything was going great, until he told you that he wanted to see other people. You shouldn’t have been surprised, he had been saying that he wasn’t sure he was ready for a relationship, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt when he officially broke it off with you.

‘You’re crying,’ a message from Pierre-Luc pops up on your screen. For a moment, you forgot your curtains were open, giving him a full view into your apartment.

‘Yep,’ you reply back, not sure what else to say. He could see you, it’s not like you could lie to him.

‘Need to talk about it?’

‘I don’t want to Facetime right now.’

‘Got it,’ was all he said. You look over at his apartment, just in time to see him shutting the door behind him. What the hell was he doing that he could ask you to Facetime and then leave right after? You let out a sigh, deciding to focus on the TV and try to force yourself to eat the fruit. You weren’t going to feel any better if your hunger turned into hanger, so you might as well eat the food that was in front of you.

You didn’t know where your phone ended up; somewhere in the couch cushions maybe? On the floor? You didn’t even care, you just wanted to wallow and be dramatic for the day. What you weren’t expecting was the knock on your door, interrupting your favorite episode of the show. Getting up, not expecting anyone, you debated even opening the door when you hear his voice on the other side.

“Y/N, it’s me, open up.” You see Pierre-Luc standing there, a bag from the donut shop down the street in hand, a bunch of take out menus in the other.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, him pushing past you and plopping down on the couch, obviously already knowing the way around.

“You were upset so I wanted to make sure you were alright,” he says, taking out the donuts, putting them on the plate with your fruit, popping a piece in his mouth. “You don’t have to talk about it, but at least this way we’re finally hanging out in person.”

There was something about seeing him sitting on your couch that just felt right. He looked so at home, his feet already up on your table in the way you sat pretty much all the time. He had already started up the episode, replaying it from the beginning so he could see it when you sit down beside him, tucking your feet underneath you.

“Come here,” he says, reaching his arm out. You cuddle up next to him, your head on his shoulder as he plants a kiss on the top of your head. It felt so right. So much better than with David, so much better than with any of the other guys you had been with.

“He dumped me,” you tell him, even though you were sure that you had already texted him that last night when you were on your way home.

“He didn’t deserve you,” you hear him say. He mumbled something else, something you couldn’t quite make out. If he wanted you to hear it, he would have said it louder, you figured.

“He said I play hard to get?” you ask, unsure if that was true or not. Were you hard to get? You slept with the guy on the first night, Pierre-Luc had seen the beginning of it through the window.

“No, you’re not hard to get, you’re hard to earn. Any guy would be lucky to have you. If I had you, I’d,” he stops himself, mentally kicking himself for opening that can of worms that he really didn’t want to dive into yet. You hadn’t even been out on a first date. If anything, maybe, this was your first date.

“You’d what?” you say, sitting up, hoping he would continue. This was his first time in your apartment. Something you had both thought about a lot. You wanted to hear what he would do if you were together, hoping whatever he said would actually happen.

“I’d feed the cat with you in the morning and then do it by myself in the afternoon if I didn’t have a game or something,” he starts, laughing, “I’d go out to breakfast with your friends even if we didn’t go out with them the night before. I’d even hang out with them whenever you did, even though they are a little crazy. You love the people around you, the animals that aren’t even your own pets. You deserve someone who will love you back the way you love everyone and everything.”

You sit there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. “I should have been the one that night in here with you, not him,” he says, finally admitting it out loud.

“Do something about it now, then,” you tell him.

“What?” he asks, stunned.

“Forget that night you saw me with David, and do something now,” you insist. You had wanted this just as bad as he did, so why were either of you waiting?

He starts slow, sweet, his hand on your cheek as he presses his lips to yours. His lips move with yours, his tongue swiping your bottom lip as his other hand snakes it’s way around you back, picking you up from the seat next to you and placing you in his lap. Your hands go through his hair, your mind blank. This was what you had been waiting for since you first saw him.

He pulls away, his cheeks now red, a smile on his face, “I really hope I’m the only one who ever looked through your window.”

“If anyone else is looking then at least they get a little bit of a show,” you say, kissing him again.

#pierre luc dubois #pierre luc dubois imagines #pierre-luc dubois #pierre-luc dubois imagines #columbus blue jackets #columbus blue jackets imagines #blue jackets #blue jackets imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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bellasweetwriting · 4 years

Text

Black Coffee

Spencer Reid x f.reader

(not my gif)

masterlist

Request: I just saw your post about wanting to write for reid. could i request a fluffy fic about reid falling for a barista at a local coffee shop and the. he realizes she also works at his favorite bookstore or record store? ahhh i’m sorry it’s a lot ! thank you in advance!

warnings: some criminal minds stuff but mostly just fluff

word count: 1290

— • • • —

Morgan and Emily arrived at the office with coffees for everyone. They started giving them out, and Spencer was the only one that questioned that selfless action.

"What's this?" Asked the Doctor, drinking from the black coffee that was given to him. "What's the occasion?"

"There's this new coffee shop around the block and Morgan and I decided to try it, then we bought coffee for the team."

Reid nodded. He knew which coffee shop they were talking about, and he had visited also but decided to keep that information to himself.

"Prentiss, Morgan—" called them Hotch—" thanks for the coffee. Everyone conference room. JJ has a case for us."

"And the day couldn't get better."

The team entered the conference room and sat in their usual seats, Reid was doodling the handwriting of the barista on his cup, unfocused of the victims in the screen.

"Three victims, three of them blonde, two seventeen-year-olds and one with forty six."

"How does that murder connects with the other two?" Asked Morgan. "We sure it's the same killer?"

"The two blondes, Amanda and Alice, were best friends and both had another friend who's the daughter of the forty-six-year-old woman called Marie. That’s how they were connected. Besides, it's the same signature, same way of placing the body on the ground... same guy."

"And how does her daughter look like?" JJ projected the photo of a seventeen-year-old girl with brown hair. "Huh... interesting. Wheels up in 30."

— • • • —

The team caught their unsub. It was the daughter Gabriella’s boyfriend Jason who found out that her friends were talking bad behind their back and her mother was abusing her psychologically. He was trying to get rid of all the bad and hypocrite people in Gabriella’s life, thinking by killing them he was saving his girlfriend from these double-sided people on her life.

"I think we should celebrate, " interfered Garcia with a tiny smile, "we have work tomorrow so no drinks but, the coffee shop you mentioned is still opened. We can eat some doughnuts and I'm definitely craving for a lemon cake."

"It's too late, baby girl, " said Morgan, "tomorrow morning."

No one joined Penelope’s plan except Reid, who quickly stood up when everyone left and reached Garcia on the elevator.

"I'll join you, " he said in a hurry, and she smiled. "I’m starving for some coffee"

"Me too. The coffee this morning was so good." Spencer nodded. How could he tell her he wasn't going to that coffee shop only for the black coffee they served.

Both sat down at the counter and started talking about the case and how they caught the guy. Spencer tried to show Penelope how Morgan entered the unsub’s house with the sugar bags and she cackled as she heard how Derek almost tripped with a piece of furniture as he was going to catch the guy.

"Doctor, " you called him from the other side of the counter, confusing Garcia, "if I didn't know you better I would’ve said you are following me." Garcia quickly noted how Spencer got nervous. "But as I said, I know you. Black coffee."

"Please, Y/N, and a latte for my friend Garcia."

"The tech analyst?" You questioned.

"Actually, technical analyst, but close, " corrected you Spencer with a tiny smile. "How you’ve been, Y/N? What happened to the record store?"

You used to work at Reid’s favorite record store, and before that, you worked at his favorite bookstore. You kept crossing paths with him. Now you worked at the coffee shop near the BAU office.

"Got fired. I put Pink Floyd on the speakers of the store and I accidentally poured coffee on the controls and destroyed the panel." Reid laughed, nearly choking on coffee. Garcia looked at him really confused.

He has never spent so much time without spilling random facts or acting weird. He was acting cool and that was weird from him.

"That's such a Y/N thing to do." You giggled.

"Oh, Morgan and Prentiss were here yesterday and you are completely right, he does flirt with every girl." Reid nodded after you finished telling. "It's so good to finally meet you, Penelope, heard so much about you."

"Same thing, Y/N." And with that, you left to another table, leaving Garcia and Spencer alone. "Who is she?"

"You can't tell the team, Garcia, " said quickly the doctor as he inhaled deeply. "As soon as I tell them about her the tiny amount of privacy I've gained this last three months is going downhill."

"Ok, fine, I won't. This is why you wanted to come here?" He nodded. "You like her!"

"Shh!" Spencer quickly shushed her friend with his eyes wide open. "Don't shout, Garcia!"

"I can't believe you like her, " she whispered, excited about this new discovery. "You talked to her about us?"

"Yeah, " Reid murmured with a tiny smile forming on his face, "she’s the best and she listens to everything I say, including the nonsense babbling. Do you think I got a chance?"

"Uhm, yeah! She’s crazy about you. You should ask her out. Look, I'm gonna go with my lemon cake and my coffee to the office so you can be alone with her." Reid quickly started shaking his head but Garcia was already leaving. There was no coming back.

A few seconds later, you approached the daughter placing the rag on your shoulder, glancing confused over Spencer who seemed really nervous.

"Everything good, Doc?" You asked and he gave you a nervous smile. "What's up with the tech?"

"She had to leave. Work on a case, " he lied even though he was a terrible liar.

"Shouldn't you be leaving too, then?"

"Oh, no, no... it wasn't my case... it wasn't... it was hers, " he stuttered making you chuckle a bit. "Hey, Y/N."

"Spencer, " you called him too to release the tension.

"Would you want to go out sometime?" He asked quickly, taking to by surprise.

"With you?" He nodded. "I would love to. Actually, my shift ends in ten minutes. You maybe wanna catch a movie or something?"

"I would love that."

— • • • —

Spencer arrived late to work the next day, he looked tired and he had bags under his eyes, barely even able to stand on both feet.

"What train ran you over, pretty boy?" Asked Morgan, getting the attention of the whole team. "You look terrible."

"Thanks, Derek, " he said trying not to close his eyes. "I stayed up late."

"Adding numbers or some?" Questioned Derek again sitting on top of Spencer’s desk.

"I had a date."

Those four words gained the attention of everyone. Spencer Reid had a date. That couldn't be possible.

"Oh my God! She said yes!?" Yelled Garcia and Reid nodded with a smile. "I knew it!"

"You know this girl, Garcia?" Asked Emily and Penelope nodded.

"Yeah, I do, " admitted her while Reid smiled. "How was it, Reid?"

"We went to the movies, then we had food and then I drove her home and kissed her." Penelope couldn't hold the excitement. "Calm down, Garcia."

"When are you going out again?"

"Tomorrow, " replied Spencer. "I went to the coffee shop this morning and asked her out again. She said yes and gave me a black coffee with my name on the cup."

"You asked the barista out?" Questioned Emily. "What's even going on?"

"She drew a little heart next to the «r», " whispered Penelope with a big smile, almost melting by the action. "She's perfect."

"I know, " whispered Spencer, drinking from the cup with a tiny smile, thinking of what happened the night before with you.

requested by: @artcozy

#spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #fanfic #fanfiction #y/n #reid #pov

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thedeathdeelers · 3 years

Text

Julie x Luke Fic

ok i did it

i finished the song inspired fic (my first attempt at writing Juke lols) (also my longest fic posted to date?? over 2k?? what)

find it here on my AO3, otherwise under the read more cut below :)

let me know what you think!

————

i’ll go wherever you will go

JULIE

Saturday morning found Julie wide awake tossing and turning at 7:30am. Which was odd to say the least, as Julie definitely enjoyed a good lie in just as much as the next person.

She tried to go back to sleep, snuggling in deeper under her covers, tucking her hands under her cheek, and even switching positions a few times.

But still nothing.

Finally giving up on sleep by 7:50am, Julie jumped out of bed, planning to head straight to the studio. Her mind had switched on the moment she first opened her eyes, whirling with lyrics and melodies for a new potential anthem.

So she slipped on her large bear claw slippers, and padded her way through the still quiet house, gently opening and shutting the front door behind her.

She slowly walked down the path to the studio, fully aware that the boys would not be back from whatever it is teenage ghosts who don’t sleep do all night.

Julie pushed passed the doors of her mom’s studio, leaving them ajar, hoping to let in the cool morning breeze. She headed straight for the couch, where lay Luke’s (and now hers as well, she supposed) songbook.

She plopped down, enjoying the worn out feel of the leather and the softened cushions, dragging the book over & onto her lap. Flipping it open, she rifled through the pages, humming quietly under her breath, looking at all of the recent songs she & Luke had written together. It was routine for her to do a little recap of their joint material before she reached the empty pages, where she would start on something new.

She was just about to flip past their latest work, paper crinkling under her fingers, when something fell out from between the pages, fluttering to the ground. She looked down, brows pulling together, to find a folded piece of paper on the floor next to her cladded feet.

Curious, and fully aware that she had only just held this notebook in her hands yesterday, Julie leaned forward over her knees and picked up the scrap of paper, and unfolded it.

It was in covered Luke’s familiar scratchy handwriting, covered in words and notes and melodies, just like the rest of their shared songbook (albeit looking slightly more organised). Scratching at her scalp in confusion, Julie brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear as she brings the wrinkled paper closer for her to read.

But just before she does, she allows herself to breathe in deeply, eyes closing as the scent that is purely Luke invades her senses, enveloping her in a kind of warmth that vaguely reminds her of happy summers past.

She only gives herself a few seconds of self-indulgence, before she pulls the paper away from her face, sitting up a little straighter. Opening her eyes, she focuses on the words in front of her, scanning through the first few lines.

A gasp breaks through the silence in the studio as Julie starts to process the meaning behind the song.

She was reading a love song.

Her brain takes a second to comprehend, and another to fully process and kick in.

A love song written by Luke. And there was a very big chance that it was written with her in mind.

Love songs weren’t entirely a new territory for them - they had experimented with a few ever since they performed Stand Tall. But this one was a fully fleshed out song, with an underlying tone that was so heartbreaking, Julie could already feel her heart squeezing tight in her chest as tears start to push past her eyelids and down her cheeks.

So lately, been wondering,

Who will be there to take my place,

When I’m gone, you’ll need love,

To light the shadows on your face

A sob clawed its way out, breathing ragged as Julie clutched tighter at the piece of paper in her hand, her eyes squeezing shut. He must have written this when they thought they were going to move on.

She presses her free hand, now shaking, against her mouth, failing to stop the new stream of oncoming sobs from breaking out.

Even now, with the boys being physically present in her life, uncertainty still reared it’s ugly head. She would be bobbing her head along to music, working on her algebra homework, or lying in bed scrolling through Instagram, and it would hit. She’d suddenly be very aware of the fear of losing her new found family, of losing him, unsuspectingly crawling its way back up from where it was buried deep down, engulfing her in a haze that wouldn’t let up.

Trying to bring herself back to the present, Julie shakes her head, eyes opening back up. She tries to refocus on the words in front of her, even as her vision continued to blur.

If I could, then I would

I’ll go wherever you will go

Way up high, or down low,

I’ll go wherever you will go

And maybe, I’ll find out

The way to make it back someday

To watch you, to guide you,

Through the darkest of your days

I hope there’s someone out there

Who could bring me back to you

If I could turn back time,

I’ll go whenever you will go

If i could make you mine

i’ll go wherever you will go

“Jules?”

She was so taken by the words on the paper, so absorbed in the world the words were creating, that she hadn’t noticed Luke appearing into the studio.

Startled, she lifts her head, hair shifting and falling back over her shoulders as her eyes meet his.

LUKE

Luke had spent his night just as he always did: Roaming around the streets of Hollywood, constantly checking out new bands, new music - desperately trying to keep up with the music scene that constantly seemed to be changing.

Him and the boys had made a pact that they would always take advantage of their time back on Earth, whether spending it with loved ones (Alex tried to sneak off and see Willie whenever it was possible; Reggie liked to stick around the Molina house, following Ray and Carlos around), or spending it enriching their already deep knowledge of music.

And although he genuinely enjoyed spending his nights exploring the music scene with his boys, Luke always found himself itching to head back to their studio. Itching to head back to Julie. Some could call it pathetic (Alex), but he was over caring.

After having thought that he had somehow lost her, being forced to cross over or join some megalomaniac’s house band forever, he was through trying to act coy. He was head over heels in love with Julie Molina, and that was that.

Which meant that as soon as he deemed it late enough to head back, he left the boys on their way to meet Willie at some singer’s pool, and poofed back home (home. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?).

He was expecting the Molinas to still be asleep, hoping he’d be able to get a few hours’ worth of songwriting in before he’d be joined by a sleepy Julie.

What he hadn’t expect was to find a hunched over Julie, sat on their couch looking small as her eyes shone with freshly shed tears.

Luke quickly crossed the space between them, nearly jumping over the coffee table in his rush to get to her. He fell onto the couch next to her, reaching out to grab her hand in his. As was his routine whenever he’d held her hand, his thumb started to lightly trace over her knuckles, trying to soothe her the only way he knew best: by touch.

“Jules? Julie, what’s wrong? What happened?” He searched her face, futilely trying to make sense of the red rimmed eyes and the tear streaked cheeks. He was so preoccupied by the fresh batch that had started to spill over that he hadn’t noticed the cause: the now crumpled piece of paper wrapped up in Julie’s trembling fist.

But Julie would only shake her head at him, staring back with wide and glistening eyes.

Luke shifted, twisting his body to fully face her, extending his free hand towards her face to gently cup her cheek. The need to touch was just as much for her as it was for him. If he had a beating heart, it would be trying to hammer its way out of his chest. He needed something to ground him, to calm him down so he can focus, and nothing did that better than the girl sitting in front of him.

“Do you- do you want to talk about it?” He tried to regulate his voice, making it softer, tilting his head slightly to get closer to her eye level. He’d let her decide if she wanted to talk. He knew from personal experience what it felt like to want to let the tears and emotions pour out, without feeling the need to speak them out loud.

And yet - the lack of reaction on her part was worrying him. She still wouldn’t say a word, not even another shake or nod of the head - just staring at him with a mix of grief and wonder shining from her eyes. He didn’t know what to do with that.

But just as he was about to slide back a little, give her some space, he saw her lift her free hand, fingers curled tight into a fist, holding it up in front of him.

He looked at her questioningly for a second, before the hand that was still resting on her cheek moved to brush at her closed fist. At the contact, her fingers seemed to relax, easing the pressure on her knuckles. She slowly unraveled what was in her hand, dropping it in the palm of his.

As soon as he saw the crumpled piece of paper he understood.

She had found it.

His song. To her.

His farewell song.

He‘d completely forgotten he had hastily slipped it back into his songbook yesterday after their session.

He had planned on leaving the song in her dream box, where she was to find it after they had crossed over - a little piece of him, of his heart, of his soul, left behind for her to hold whenever needed.

But then they had stayed. And hugged. And laughed and hugged some more. And he figured she didn’t need to know about the sad love song he had written her.

So he had snuck back into her room late last night while she was asleep, and quickly grabbed it, shoving it into his songbook, with plans to properly dispose of it at a later time.

Too late for that now.

“Jules - I’m so sorry. You weren’t supposed to find this.” He scratched the back of his neck, song still in hand, unsure of how to navigate the conversation. He let out a long breath, trying to find the right words to explain to her.

“I wanted to leave you something that would always remind you of me - something personal, that no one’s seen or heard before. Just a little keepsake that you could go back to and read whenever you needed it.” His hand dropped into his lap with a soft thud, sound muted by the deafening quiet of the studio.

He chanced a look at her face, to find her still staring at him. Fortunately (he hoped), he could see the tears had stopped.

“I didn’t want to leave, knowing things might have been left unsaid. I figured I wouldn’t be as lucky next time round.” He tried for a weak laugh, but knew it wasn’t going to work. So he tried again.

“It uh- it was in your dream box. I know you said not to go near it, but I swear I just dropped the song in there and closed it. I didn’t snoop. Scout’s honour.” He did a little salute, two fingers held up, despite the fact that they both knew he was never a boy scout. He even tried a little shy smile, hoping she’d react to something. Anything.

And yet, still nothing.

Did she hate it? Did she think he was overstepping her boundaries? Did the song make her uncomfortable? He was starting to panic, even as he still felt her warm hand resting in his.

He let out a deep breath and tried again.

“I’m sorry, Julie, please, just talk to me. Let me know if I made you uncomfortable in any way, I-I-I’ll stop. We can burn the piece of paper and just forget this ever happened just please- say something.” He was pleading her, eyes solely focused on hers as he tried to gauge any type of reaction from her.

“You think I’m crying because it made me uncomfortable?” Her voice was so low, he nearly missed it.

He was not expecting her to start with that. But unexpected reactions were better than nothing.

“I- I don’t know Julie. You’ve been quiet from the moment I poofed in here. I don’t know what to think. But I’m so-“

“Please. Please Luke, stop apologising.” She shook her head, voice hoarse. Her lips twitched at the edges, the first signs of movement on her face since he approached her.

“This song- I-“ She swallowed, trying to dislodge the emotions wedged in her throat. Her eyes flickered from his lap, to the song and back up to his.

“Luke this- this is the most beautiful song you’ve ever written. I haven’t even looked at the music accompanying it and it’s already my favourite piece of music ever.”

Her voice hitched, as she tried to control her feelings. She cleared her throat, continuing.

“I cried because the emotions, the feelings that have been building up for a while now, all came crashing down on me at once. The fact that I really was this close to losing you guys,” she lifted her hand and touched his jaw, letting her fingers trail his cheek. “To losing you.”

Luke lifted his hand, covering hers.

“I’ll always be by your side Julie. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure of it. You know that.” His lips quirked into a half smile, recalling the words he had uttered the night they thought was their last.

“Could you- Could you play this for me?”

That surprised him. He wasn’t expecting her to want to revisit the song for a while. He lifted his brows as he tried to read her clear brown eyes.

“You sure you want to hear it now? We have all the time in the world. We could leave it for another day?“

She shook her head, the first real smile that morning, finding its way on her lips.

“No, I’m sure. I want to hear you sing it while I- while I can hold you close.”

His non-beating heart stuttered at her words, even as he tried to (unsuccessfully) keep the joyfully surprised expression from showing too much on his face.

“Alright.”

He got up quickly to grab his guitar and then immediately headed back to sit down next to his brown eyed wicked beauty.

Hm, that title had potential.

No Luke, focus.

He started tuning his six-string as Julie settled herself more comfortably against his side on the sofa. Her arm snaked its way around his back as she squeezed herself closer, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

He closed his eyes, trying to savour this feeling, this moment, committing it to memory, before he opened them back up and prepared himself to start playing the song he never thought he’d get the chance to perform.

So lately, been wondering,

Who will be there to take my place,

When I’m gone, you’ll need love,

To light the shadows on your face

He could already feel the tears soaking their way through his shirt sleeves, as Julie’s hand clenched, her arm tightening her hold onto him. He fought through the need to comfort her, willing himself to finish playing her his song. He was baring his soul to her; the least he could do was do it right.

I know now, just quite how

My life and love might still go on

In your heart, in your mind

I’ll stay with you for all of time

He was nearing the end of the song, strumming through the last verse before he reached the altered chorus, bringing his emotions to an all time high. He sneaked a quick peak at Julie, her eyes closed as the tears continued to spill.

If I could turn back time,

I’ll go wherever you will go

If I could make you mine,

I’ll go wherever you will go

And with the last strum of his guitar, the final note softly fading into the quiet of the studio, Luke shifted for the first time since he started playing her the song. He gently moved the guitar from his lap, placing it against the side of the sofa. Turning back around, he then fully enveloped the other half of his soul in his arm, bringing her even closer to her rightful place in his heart.

FIN

#juke #jatp #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #julie molina #jukebox #julie x luke #jatp fics #my fics #thedeathdeelers fics

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izlaria · 3 years

Text

Someone you like (part 2)

This is the second chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform.

Feel free to write comments in the tags or send me messages about this. I love feedback!

16 and 14 years old

Pidge Gunderson. I am Pidge Gunderson.

Katie looked herself in the mirror, trying to convince her brain that the image reflected was hers, that it was a boy, with no previous links to the Garrison, someone who had wanted to go into Communications.

It didn’t really work. All she saw was Matt: his glasses; his short, unkempt haircut; his nickname for her.

Maybe it was better like this. Katie had initially meant to immerse herself in this new identity, to go so deep into Pidge Gunderson that no one would be able to see past the cover, but the truth still kept slipping through her defenses. Katie was a Holt and her family was missing, so she was gonna find them. Pidge was just a tool.

It would be easier if there weren’t so many risks in studying at the Garrison.

Her father hadn’t brought her around often, but Katie had become infamous among the night-time security for her excursions to discover sensitive information regarding the Kerberos mission. Iverson, in particular, was probably expecting a new advance on her part.

He hadn’t recognized her, yet.

Sometimes Katie worried that she’d already been exposed and that they were just gathering evidence before actually making a move against her. If the Garrison was willing to lie about her father’s and brother’s deaths, then she couldn’t overlook the possibility that corruption ran deep within the organization.

She sighed, tugging at the ends of her hair.

“Come on, Gunderson!” she heard someone shout from outside her door. “You’re coming to lunch with us whether you want to or not!”

Lance continued to make noises, probably talking to Hunk. They usually threatened to hack into her keypad if she didn’t come out to join them for meals. Katie couldn’t really understand their stubbornness. She might have appreciated their offer of friendship back in Middle School, when she’d felt ostracized by her peers, but now it was just another hazard to her already convoluted plan.

“Go bother some poor girl, McClain!” Katie shouted in response, feeling more inpatient than strictly necessary.

She knew that Lance meant well, but she didn’t have time for his hijinks. Katie had a duty to her family, first and foremost, and any effort spent placating her teammates was a waste in that regard. Not to mention that Lance had a knack for attracting attention that completely opposed her own need to remain unseen.

Her door slid open with an elegant swoosh.

Katie poked her head from the bathroom to glare at the two boys who stood there. Hunk had the sense to look ashamed, but Lance just grinned.

“It’s bonding time, Pidge!” He stepped into the room, arms wide open. His easy smile was the same as ever, despite the news they’d received earlier that day about their performance stats. It was probably why Lance was there, after all.

Katie actually felt a little bad about the whole thing. She wasn’t particularly invested in training as a communications officer and, though she wouldn’t say it affected her retainment of the knowledge demanded from her, it certainly translated into frustration when they were in the simulator.

She wasn’t much of a team player, Katie could admit.

“If you’re trying to get on my good side, this is not how to do it,” she grumbled, trying her best to keep her voice low. Too much of a change would eventually weight on her vocal cords or sound plain ridiculous, but a difference in pitch and speech patterns were certainly necessary to disguise her true identity. Thankfully, any slip up could be attributed to puberty, as she’d been seeing many of their male classmates endure the difficulties of cracking voices.

Lance took her by the shoulders and shook her indiscriminately. “Quit being the worst!” His cheerfulness hid the vexation that Katie knew he truly felt. “We’re having burgers today, so I’m not letting you bring us down.”

She snickered. Lance was notorious for his love of junk food, despite Hunk’s attempts to get them more nutritious meals. He frequently spoke about his mother’s cooking but didn’t seem to have that same interest in the dietary plan prepared by the Garrison.

Katie couldn’t really fault him for that. Their meals were usually so blend that they seemed to withdraw taste from any of the condiments added.

From behind Lance, Hunk had finally gathered enough courage to come in. He looked around in such false innocence that Katie might have believed him, hadn’t she caught him going through her drawers the previous week. That boy was nosy as hell.

Just another reason to keep them away.

“If I go with you to the cafeteria, does that mean I can get you out of my room?” She fixed them with a stony look.

“For a time,” Lance offered, all cheeky and bright and annoying.

Hunk put a hand on his shoulder, pulling his friend back from Katie. “We noticed you didn’t eat yesterday, again.” He sighed. “If you took better care of yourself, we wouldn’t come here so often.”

Katie let that reasoning sit with her for a bit. She usually sneaked granola bars and other less-perishable types of food into her room to eat while she worked, but it was true that she didn’t really sit for meals unless the boys pushed her. She didn’t think they would notice.

It brought a strange warmth to her chest. She’d felt cold for so long now, always at arm’s length from those around her. Her mother had tried, but she was grieving and her suffering filled her until there was no more room for her daughter. These small kindnesses had gone away with Matt.

She struggled not to reach into her pocket for the picture she kept of them. Hunk had a curious soul and Lance was a gossip; they had almost caught her one too many times.

“I guess I did want your input on how to recalibrate this old radio I found in the junkyard…” Katie huffed out a breath, which the boys took as a surrender.

“Ah, nothing like the smell of oil and grease to really improve the day!” Lance put an arm around her shoulders, but she quickly dodged away, lest he recognize anything different about her body. Even though she was already pretending to be a boy, Katie didn’t want to also have to pretend to be trans. It was a line that she dared not cross, morally.

She felt the dysmorphia more acutely than she’d imagined she would. As a child, she had enjoyed cutesy things and dresses and her long hair. The sudden departure from those possessions was supposed to remove her from her previous identity, but Katie would always know the truth. There was no escaping it.

More than anything, it was the inability to choose that left her frazzled. The loose clothes and glasses and boyish haircut didn’t bother her and they did give her a liberty that more feminine wear didn’t, but Katie wished the circumstances allowed her to be a girl too, sometimes.

Alas, here she was, stuck between Hunk and Lance as they basically escorted her to the cafeteria. Matt would have a conniption if he ever found out there were boys breaking into her room at all times of the day.

“You thinking about those amazing fries we’re gonna get?” Lance sighed dreamily. “Honestly, I don’t know how they do it. Every other meal freaking sucks, but then Monday comes around and the cooks just nail it!”

Hunk chuckled, nodding along. “They probably want to put us in a good mood for the week. Everybody knows that getting back to classes after the weekend can be hard.”

“Hard? It’s impossible.” Lance dragged his hands through his face. “I nearly fell asleep during Arithmetic today. Professor Reeves is such a bore!”

“Maybe you wouldn’t fall asleep if you didn’t spend Sunday nights in town,” Katie quipped before she could stop herself.

“Yeah, well,” Lance floundered. “What’s your excuse, then? You won’t come with us, but you still look dead on your feet in the mornings!”

“I’m just not a morning person.” She crossed her arms, turning away from Lance.

In doing so, however, she came face to face with Hunk, who was staring at her with an inquisitive look. He was less loud about it than Lance, but it was clear that he also had questions about what Katie spent her time doing.

She tightened her arms around herself, feeling her stomach drop.

This was why Katie didn’t like to talk to them. It was usually easy to ignore Lance, because of how over-the-top he was, but Hunk’s gentleness and concern made the guilt rise within her. She didn’t want to involve other people in her lies, didn’t want them to believe Pidge was their friend only to be faced with a betrayal.

And that’s how they would see it, wasn’t it? Katie didn’t have a lot of experience with friendships, especially not ones as deep as Hunk and Lance’s, but no sane person would take it lightly to find out someone had lied about their whole identity and motivations.

Besides, if she ever did find out what the Garrison was hiding, it could possibly affect the future of the organization and disrupt the trajectory of every student there.

Before Katie could go further into her spiraling thoughts, she felt Hunk maneuver her into the cafeteria line. She had tuned out the rest of their conversation and now Lance spoke of a girl in his Aerodynamics class.

She ignored his ramblings. Lance tried to project this image of a lady’s man, but the few dates he’d scored since they started school never seemed to really move forward. They ended up in an endless cycle in which Lance fixated on some girl, hit on her endlessly, then finally gave up and went crying to Hunk.

Katie couldn’t see the appeal of it, but it most likely had to do with Lance’s self-esteem and need for validation.

“I think Jiya might actually like me!” he declared, despite how both Hunk and Katie were more focused on filling their trays with food. “Whenever the teacher asks me to stay behind and clean up, she stays to help! That has to mean something!”

Katie collected her juice box and went to sit down, pointedly ignoring Lance’s questions.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Hunk said agreeably. He didn’t sound too sure, but his expression showed that he was trying to be positive for Lance’s sake.

“Or, you know, the girl is just a nice person who thought you were being picked on by the teacher.” Katie raised her eyes to give Lance an unimpressed look. “And you’re reading too much into it.”

The boy scowled at her. “What would you know, Pidge? I’ve never seen you with a girl before.”

“Yeah,” she raised an eyebrow, feeling smug that the other two wouldn’t understand the humor in this. “What do I know of girls?”

Katie had to suppress a laugh when Lance turned to her with a very confused expression. Hunk, however, gave her a small, secretive smile that set off all kinds of warning signs.

“I don’t get it,” Lance complained to Hunk, then turned back to her. “I don’t get it!”

“Well,” Hunk started and immediately her heart started pounding in her chest. Outwardly, Katie tried to remain impassive. “The girls in our class all love Pidge.”

“They do?!” Lance burst out, eyes widened. His gaze shifted back and forth between her and Hunk.

They didn’t, Katie was pretty sure. Did they?

“They think he’s cute,” Hunk confirmed, waving his fork in the air as if trying to recall the exact words. “Pidge is quiet, but he’s smart and mostly polite, so Denise decided he was a good guy and the rest of the girls kinda followed her lead.”

Now that Katie thought about it, it was true that she’d helped Denise with her Bio homework and that people had been nicer to her since. She supposed they could see Pidge in a good light, especially because he seemed so much younger than the other students in Engineering.

Katie blinked rapidly to dispel her thoughts. She’d been thinking of Pidge in the third person, again.

“Fine, then.” Lance narrowed his eyes at Katie. “What miraculous advice do you have for me, oh Great Pidgeon?”

Despite his sarcasm, it was clear that Lance truly wanted an answer. It was one of the most ridiculous situations Katie had ever found herself in.

“How about you show some interest in what these girls like, instead of showboating around them?” She flicked a fry at him, which Hunk quickly stole for himself. “Sure, some people want to be impressed, but we all got into the Garrison and a lot of them already know your grades on the simulator. Most girls want someone who will listen and who they can have fun with.”

“I can be fun!” Lance protested.

“I get what Pidge’s saying, though,” Hunk intervened. Katie hadn’t meant to be harsh, but Lance suddenly looked a little deflated. “We know that you’re great, but you’re always so busy trying to be what these girls want from you that you don’t really get to know them. A little kindness goes a long way.”

Katie nodded along, munching on her burger. “No girl wants an egocentric boyfriend,” she added, mouth still half full. Lance glared at her in both disgust and indignancy.

“I don’t want to hear this from you, Mister I’m-not-here-to-make-friends!”

She shrugged and continued to eat her burger.

“Okay, okay…” Hunk put his hands up placatingly. “How about I get us some dessert and we change the subject?”

Lance glanced at him through the corner of his eyes. “Those guava-flavored popsicles?”

“You know it!” Hunk grinned back at him and the two shared a high-five.

“You’re so easy to please,” Katie commented once Hunk had gotten up. She used her last fry to soak up the mayo leftover on her plate.

Lance glared at her for a moment, before letting the last of his annoyance slip away. He reached into his backpack and took out an apple.

“Here.” He deposited it on her tray.

Katie frowned at him. “What is this?”

“You always eat fruit after we get something greasy, right?” he asked it casually, distracted by trying to squeeze ketchup onto his remaining fries. The condiment bottles in the cafeteria were continuously blocked.

“Yeah.” She blinked up at him, caught by surprise. Her voice had gone soft and she had to clear her throat to dispel the emotion that knotted there. “I didn’t think you would remember.”

Lance looked up from his food to give her an exaggerated eye-roll.

“You’re my friend, Pidge.” He kicked her under the table. “In spite of all your efforts to keep me away.”

She stayed silent for a moment, staring at the apple.

“Thank you,” she said. I’m sorry, she wanted to add, but it would make no sense to him. As far as Lance knew, Pidge was cold and self-involved and clinical to a fault.

“Don’t mention it!” He threw a fry up and tried to catch it with his mouth, but it merely bounced off his nose, marking it with ketchup. “Dang! One more!”

Katie let out a breath of laughter. Then, sitting up to better her odds, she waved at Lance. “Try me.”

By the time Hunk returned, Katie was biting into her apple as Lance complained about the ketchup stains he’d gotten on his uniform jacket.

She didn’t know what had driven her away from the dorms that day. There was a restless energy within her that demanded space and, though she’d never been the biggest fan of nature, it had sent her directly into the Arizona desert.

Katie felt like Pidge, today. Not like Pidge Gunderson, but like the little girl who’d yelled a misheard swearword at locked doors, until her brother had come to her rescue. She felt young and impulsive and alive, despite the grief that still weighted on her shoulders.

More than anything, she missed her mom.

In Katie’s eyes, Coleen Holt knew everything there was to know about agriculture and plant life. She was a different kind of genius from her father and brother, possessing a peacefulness about her that none of the other Holts could ever hope for. It had been a comfort through the years of Katie’s adolescence.

Sitting underneath one of the few trees distributed across the Garrison grounds reminded Katie of her grandmother’s place in Italy, where the fruit trees spread as far as the horizon. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the sweet smells that rose from the vegetation.

“I wonder if they have lemon trees here,” she murmured to herself.

“I don’t think they do, Pidge.”

Katie lurched back in shock. She felt her shoulder scrape against the tree trunk and had to stretch out an arm to keep from falling. Lance sent her a carefree grin, bent down at the waist to look her in the eye, as he usually did. It irritated Katie to no end, not only for how condescending it was, but because it always put him too far into her personal bubble.

“What are you even doing here, Lance?” she asked once her heartrate had gone down.

“I saw you through a window and thought we could eat together, since Hunk is sick.” He looked pointedly at the half-eaten sandwich she’d tossed in her surprise. “I see you started without me.”

“Well, now I’ll have to buy something else for lunch, so thanks for that,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t be like that, Pidgeon.” Lance poked her on the ribs. “I even brought you something as a bribe.” And then he extended an apple towards her.

Katie took it, trying to cover up her amusement with exasperation. “Do you think I’m obsessed with apples or something?”

“Next time I’ll bring you a lemon,” he teased.

Maybe it was because she felt more herself than she had in weeks, but Katie snickered at him. While his sanguinity could be exhausting, this time it was a welcome relief from the stagnation she’d fallen under.

Lance pulled out a sandwich from his pack, one of those 30 centimeters subs in Italian bread and multiple fixings, and Katie felt her mouth water at the sight. He must have noticed, because Lance chuckled and broke out one end for her.

“I think this is a palo verde,” he remarked after swallowing his first bite. At a confused look from Katie, he clarified, “the tree. You were talking about it before, right?”

“You speak Spanish?”

“Yeah…” He sounded like he was laughing at her. “I’m Cuban.”

Katie suddenly felt very stupid. He and Hunk had probably mentioned this already, but she didn’t pay them that much attention. It was a little embarrassing, especially when Lance seemed to be memorizing every small piece of information she offered him.

“Oh.” She searched for the right thing to say. “I didn’t know. Your last name sounds American.”

The whole situation left in her a sense of déjà vu. She couldn’t quite remember why, but the words pulled at her memory.

Thankfully, Lance took it in stride. “Our family has been to the US, then back to Cuba, then back to the US for generations. My whole name is actually Lance Serrano Mcclain.”

She nodded. Normally Katie would let the conversation drop and focus on finishing her meal, but she had already decided to take a bit of a break that day, in order to be more attentive at night. It couldn’t hurt to find out more about her teammate.

“So… Palo verde?”

“It means green stick, which seems kind of unfair, because this tree is actually pretty big, especially for the climate around here.” Lance fanned himself. “I hate how dry it gets.”

She almost agreed with him, but, as far as Lance and Hunk were concerned, Pidge Gunderson had no reason to have been outside of Arizona. Instead, she pretended to ponder his comment.

“The desert can be pretty unpredictable. The lack of humidity during the day is bad, but I wouldn’t want to be caught out when the temperatures drop.”

Lance faked a shiver. “Don’t even talk about that! I have too much tropical blood to handle the cold well. Hunk’s Samoan, by the way,” and there was unnecessary emphasis to his words here, “so he’s the same.”

“I didn’t realize both of you weren’t from around here.” Katie could imagine how much they missed their families. Choosing to voluntarily leave so that they could study at the Garrison must have been difficult.

“That’s nice to hear.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just…” He scrunched up his nose, as if he wanted to take back the words as he said them. “You were so cold to us when we first met, we weren’t sure what it was about.”

It was her turn to grimace. Katie hadn’t wanted to seem like so much of a jerk. She could be snappish and patronizing, even with those she loved, but her haughtiness towards her teammates had been a façade created to keep them out. Not that it did any good.

“Ugh, you’re already closed off, again.” Lance threw his head back in frustration. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s just personal, Lance.” Katie played with the apple in her hands. “I swear it’s not about you two.”

Without looking directly at him, she couldn’t tell what expression Lance was making. He stared at her, letting the silence extend.

Then he popped the last of the sub into his mouth, spreading back onto the grass.

“We will pester it out of you.” She turned to see him grinning. The confidence there was a quiet thing, so much different than Lance’s usual hyperboles and that much more effective. She felt dazed by it. “Eventually.”

Katie had never understood what the girls in her school meant when they talked about crushes. They always seemed frivolous, going on about someone’s hair or how handsome they were or how strong. Meanwhile, Katie had simply hoped for a friend, for a respite to the unending mocking.

Still, Lance suddenly looked very interesting under this light. His chin was too pointed to be considered attractive, but his blue eyes caught the sunshine like polished stone. He could be funny and thoughtful and inventive, attributes Katie hadn’t expected to value.

She moved her gaze to where another group of students was sitting, uncertain if the heat running up her neck would translate into a damning blush. She bit into the apple to keep from incriminating herself further.

#plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #cyance #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #vld lance #pidge gunderson #katie holt #lance mcclain #vld fanfiction #vld syl verse

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

The Haunted Ones: 1 Hello, Welcome Home

Tom Hanniger x Reader

Words: 2603

Series Summary: Scarred by their past, Tom Hanniger and his girlfriend decide to face their nightmares together. When the reader’s past begins to resurface, the two must hold fast to each other, or submit to insanity.

Episode Summary: After six years together in the institution, the reader takes Tom back to her hometown. Back to where it all happened.

Notes: I know I said fourteen imagines for October, but I just couldn’t resist this idea after watching this movie. I wrote a fic series for the video game Until Dawn and I’ve wanted to write something similar for a long time. I don’t know how often this’ll be updated, so just continue to check in if you enjoy!

Thanks to my wonderful beta @suckmysupernatural. She’s a beautiful human and I love her!

Shake. Shake. Shake. You could hear the pills rattling around in your pocket. Shake. Shake. Shake. The jeep slowly creeped down the road, a heavy fog making it nearly impossible for Tom to see. You were getting close.

Trees stretched up to the sky, looming over the car like they were ready to swallow you. You used to love those trees. Even they seemed to have turned against you. You kept your gaze on the road and with every mile, the weight on your chest grew heavier and heavier. It wouldn’t be long before you passed the house.

Tom noticed the way you shrank into your seat like you were trying to disappear. The look in your eyes was one he was all too familiar with. It was a crippling combination of crushing guilt and absolute terror. You’d had it since you’d left the institution and it only intensified when a narrow road split the trees apart. It gaped at you, mocking your fear. Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew that the house was watching you. Tom drove faster, hoping to put your memory in the rearview mirror as soon as possible.

With a trembling hand, you dumped a couple of pills into your palm. Shake. Shake. Shake. You brought the little white ovals up to your lips, feeling Tom’s worried gaze follow your movement.

“Maybe we should go camping like we talked about.” He suggested, pulling the jeep over. He knew you hated those pills. He hated his too.

“No.” You swallowed, shaking your head. “I have to go back. I have to go home.” You hesitated and made sure Tom wasn’t looking before you poured one more pill into your hand. Shake. Shake. Shake.

“Fucking hate motels.” Tom muttered as he stuck the key in the lock. You felt all of the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Someone was watching you. Afraid to look, you slowly turned your head. The curtains of the room next store closed in a flash.

“What is it?” Tom asked, eyes searching the direction that you were looking.

“I thought… nothing.” You pushed inside the room. You were just being paranoid. You just had to keep reminding yourself what the nurses said. Dr. Krychek was dead. She couldn’t hurt you anymore.

Tom placed both of your bags at the foot of the bed before collapsing onto the comforter. You kicked off your shoes and crawled up beside him. Tom slowly unbuttoned your jacket and laid his hand over the large, jagged line that stretched across your stomach. His touch grounded you. It kept you from going back there. Back to that house.

While he soothingly ran his fingers over the length of the scar, you tapped the rhythm of his heart beat on his chest.

This was a routine that you’d fallen into anytime one of you was having a particularly rough day. HIs touch kept the pain at bay and your steady taps reminded him that he was still himself. You anchored each other to the present to keep from slipping into the past.

“Thank you.” You whispered into the fabric of his sweatshirt. The olive green color reminded you of a pond - steady and calming.

“I still think we should leave.” He huffed, his arm tightening around you protectively. “I don’t care what the nurses said.”

“It’ll help me get closure. I need to move on.” It was a line you’d heard over and over again. Your voice sounded automatic, rehearsed. The following words were your own. “I have to go see her, Tom. She’s probably wondering where I’ve been all these years.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, last time you saw her was the trial and she nearly broke your nose.” Tom pulled away to give you a concerned glance. You shrugged.

“From what I’ve heard, Amanda has been doing okay. She’s married now and adopting two boys.” You had a tone of envy in your voice. “She certainly coped better than I did.” For one, she didn't spend the last six years being fed a bunch of self-help bullshit.

Tom didn’t try to argue. He just wanted to keep you safe, whether it was from this town or from yourself. Your eyes locked together and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Can we talk about something else?” You pouted. It had been a long day and you wanted to forget where you were, if only for a few hours. Tom nodded.

It felt odd, having no one to hide from. Your nurses discouraged romantic attachments, especially with other patients. They said that a relationship would only confuse you more. They also thought that you were just some fragile little girl afraid of her own shadow. They didn’t know what you were capable of.

And you weren’t hiding anymore.

Tom’s breathing hitched as you lowered his hand from your scar to the waistband of your jeans. His free hand undid the rest of the buttons on your jacket and snaked around your back, unclipping your bra with one motion.

With your hands free, you removed his sweatshirt, followed by his belt. He slipped off his jeans before shimmying yours down your legs. You threw your jacket on the floor, followed by your shirt. The cool air found your bare skin, making your shiver, but his body was quick to warm yours. He whispered your name, kissing a trail from your neck down your stomach until he settled between your legs. Your fingers laced through his hair, desperate to feel something other than fear or anger or despair. You just wanted to feel him.

By the time Tom woke up, you were half dressed. You walked around the motel room in slacks and your white lacey bra. He couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

“Hey,” He greeted, lazily swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“I’m just going out for some coffee. Sleep in.” You playfully shoved him back onto the pillows. Tom hooked his fingers through your belt loops and pulled you onto his lap.

“Give me a second to get dressed and I’ll go with you.” His strong arms locked around your waist and those green eyes nearly had you. You shook your head and kissed his forehead.

“I can go get coffee by myself, Tom. You spent all day driving yesterday. You need the extra rest. Especially after last night.” You silenced his argument with a kiss. “I won’t be gone long.” Tom gave you a disapproving frown.

“Okay.” He said reluctantly. You pried yourself away and put on one of your nicer blouses. You wanted to look decent for your return to your home town. If you could look sane, maybe people would believe it.

You went out the door and Tom laid down, but had no intention of sleeping. He didn’t like sleeping alone. Without you, he saw him again. Swinging that fucking pick ax into someone’s skull. Sometimes it was your body he saw in those mines. Sometimes he saw his own.

You didn’t really just go to get coffee. You to Alli’s, the diner in town that you went to as a kid. You had heard that Amanda was working here as a manager. Funny. She used to be a law student. But hey, who were you to judge?

The subtlety you’d been hoping for was quickly ruined. It felt like every pair of eyes were on you. Cars even slowed down to get a better look. You tried your best to ignore them. None of them understood. None of them except Amanda.

The sign of Alli’s had new paint. It used to be blue. It was red now.

Going in was like a scene from a movie. The music stopped, all chatter halted and everything just froze. Dozens of stares burned into you and you wished you could sink back into that motel bed with Tom’s warmth pressed against you. Holding your chin a little high, you approached the register.

“What is going on out here? Y’all look like you’ve seen a-” Amanda froze, eyes meeting yours, “ghost.”

“Hey Mandy.”

Just like that, it all flooded back into you. And from the look of her eyes, you knew she felt it too. Neither of you were standing in that diner anymore. You were back at the house.

Seven Years Ago

Your legs ached, your muscles screaming from being strapped down for so long. But you couldn’t stop. If you stopped, she’d catch you.

“We have to go back for her!” Amanda sobbed. You were practically dragging her down the hall, fingers clamped around her wrist. Your other arm was pressed against your bleeding stomach like you could keep your insides from spilling out. With the amount of blood gushing from the wound, your vision was turning black around the edges. And still, you pulled Amanda along behind you as you kept running.

“Stop it! Stop!” Amanda fought your iron grip. “We have to go back for her! Ashley! Ashley!” Her screams for her sister went unanswered.

“Ashley’s dead.” You blurted. Amanda pretended not to hear you.

“Ashley! Ashley!” A figure appeared at the end of the hall.

“Get back here!” Dr. Krychek shrieked.

“Fuck.” You muttered, yanking Amanda through the door. She kicked and she screamed, but you didn’t care. You were getting out.

Present Day

“Y/N?” Amanda gasped. “Jesus, I thought you might be-”

“Dead?” You laughed humorlessly. You stepped towards her. “Nuts? Yes. But very much alive.”

You waited for her to yell. To slap you and to order you out of the restaurant. You weren’t prepared for her to fling her arms around you and cry happily into your shoulder.

“I thought I would never see you again.” She cried. “And after everything I said at the courthouse… I’m so glad you came home.”

Still shocked by the rush of affection, you hesitantly returned her hug. The last time you saw Amanda, she clawed your face and called you a murderer. She had to be pried off you by courthouse security. They said she wasn’t thinking straight because of the trial, but she was the only one who knew the truth. Dr. Krychek didn’t kill her sister. You did.

Back at the motel, Tom was getting anxious. Your ten minute coffee run had turned into an hour. His call to your cell went unanswered, sending an icy panic through his veins. If you were alone for too long, you could have one of your episodes, with or without those damn pills.

“She’s abandoned you, Tommy boy. Left you all alone with me.”

Tom ignored him and called again.

“Come on, you’re not really worried about her. You’re worried that, without her, you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Tom quickly downed a handful of his pills and continued to ignore the voice. Leaving one more unanswered call, Tom decided enough was enough. He put on some jeans and his sweatshirt and grabbed the keys to his jeep.

“I’ll be back, Tom. You know I will.”

Tom took a deep breath and started the car. He didn’t make it far before he saw the glare of red and blue lights. Again, the freezing hand of panic seized his heart. No, no, no. He slammed on the breaks, leaving the jeep in the middle of the street to investigate.

The yard was teeming with police and paramedics. They had been called too late, judging by the body being loaded into the ambulance.

“Poor woman.” One of the neighbors. “Emily was supposed to play cards this weekend… poor woman.”

He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t you.

“What happened?” He wondered genuinely. The woman shrugged.

“The gardener found her. All cut up on her kitchen floor.” She shook her head. “It’s like the Krychek killings all over again.” She mused before walking over to a group of other neighbors. Tom observed the scene for another minute or two before returning to his jeep.

He found you walking down main street with another woman. You were smiling.

Tom quickly pulled over and caught up to you. You noticed the worry on his face before he threw his arms around you. In catching up with Amanda, you had forgotten he was waiting for you.

“You didn’t answer your phone and when I saw those cops I-” He took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Paranoid, I know.”

“Tom, I’m so sorry.” You pulled back and placed an apologetic kiss on his cheek. “We got to talking and I didn’t even think about how worried you would be.” His eyes darted between you and Amanda.

“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Amanda. Y/N and I were friends when we were kids.” She held out her hand to shake his and he took it, eyes narrowed slightly. She just kept smiling.

“It’s okay, Mandy. He knows.” You could tell that she had this part rehearsed well, but there was no need to pretend with Tom. She visibly relaxed. He gave her a small smile.

“Tom Hanniger.” Her expression was quizzical, as if she was trying to place the name. Tom clarified. “That Hanniger.”

You forgot that you weren't too far from Tom’s hometown. The news of the mine collapse and the Harry Warden murderers spread all over the state. Even after nine years, she recognized the name.

You recalled something strange Tom had mentioned.

“What were you saying about the police?” You asked. His expression darkened.

“They found a body.” His lips formed a grim line. There was something else.

“What?” You urged. You never hid anything from each other. He let out a heavy sigh.

“I heard someone say…” He trailed off, reluctant to share in fear of scaring the two of you. You and Amanda watched him expectantly. “They said it was like a Krychek killing.”

Amanda gasped, but you didn’t make a sound. It was like a light in your eyes just switched off. This is what he was afraid of.

“Baby, hey, look at me. Y/N, look at me.” He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb lightly tracing your trembling lip.

“W-what’s wrong with her?” Amanda squeaked.

“Y/N, I'm right here. You’re right here.” He slipped his hand in between the two of you, resting it over your blouse where he knew the scar was. After a moment, his touch brought you back. You blinked and the light flipped back on.

“Tom?” You whispered. He enveloped you in his embrace.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He swayed slightly, rocking you in his protective arms. Amanda gave the couple a small smile.

“I’d better get back to work.” She sighed. Her eyes brightened with an idea. “Come to dinner tonight. Matt and I would love to have you.”

You parted from Tom to give her a nod. She excitedly walked back to the diner, leaving the two of you behind.

“She seems… well adjusted.” Tom noted, leading you to the jeep.

“She certainly coped better than I did.” You scoffed, repeating your statement from the previous night. Still feeling the aftermath of your attack, you pulled out your pills and dumped them into your hand. Shake. Shake. Shake. With a heavy sigh, you looked at the town you once called home. “God, it’s like nothing’s changed.”

“One thing has.” Tom put his hand on top of yours. “You’re not alone anymore.” Your lips turned up in a loving smile. With a sweet kiss Tom started the car.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado

#my bloody valentine #jensen ackles x reader #not dean #but kinda dean #tom hanniger x reader #halloween #horror #slasher #there will be blood #lots of blood

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theoriginalladya · 3 years

Text

WIP Whenever

So, for two days I’ve been trying to get out all of the feelings I woke up with Friday morning for Caleb and some of his post-war stuff. Things I’d decided months ago I really wanted to deal with for him, but took a sudden, MUST WRITE NOW! urgency all becaose of a photograph I saw that I suddenly realized connected to him and that part of the story (this all happened Thursday night - yeah, my muses had a FIELD DAY while I slept). (very rough draft, but a workable draft nonetheless)

So, even as rough as it is, I’m willing to share the feels because lord help me, I love this Irish boy. This post is a continuation of a snippet I shared with @shadoedseptmbr yesterday - was it just yesterday? feels like FOREVER ago now! lol That snippet can be found here.

Setting: Old Neddy’s Pub, Shannon, Ireland; post-Reaper war, mostly post his first post-war fic (not sure yet if this is part of that same fic or a shorter continuation of it - depends how much of this second part blows up on me I guess)

Characters: Caleb Shepard, Kaidan Alenko, Athair Connor

Pairings: mshenko

~~~

“And you really don’t mind?”

“I can’t say I ever gave it much thought before now,” he replies after a moment. “Not…in so many words, anyway. But that doesn’t mean I’m not interested.” His dark eyes twinkle brightly. “Next great adventure for us, right?”

Caleb is left speechless, breathless almost, at his easy acceptance. “Just that easy?”

“Not everything is as complicated as uniting the galaxy against the Reapers, Shepard.” Chuckling, Kaidan releases one hand and reaches for his drink again. “I think we’re about due for something ‘easy,’ don’t you?”

Caleb nearly chokes on the sip of his beer in his mouth. “Easy? I never said anything about this being easy.”

“It won’t be as bad as you think. Besides, Mom’ll be around to help navigate us through the worst of it.”

Mom. Caleb sets his glass back onto the table and stares over at Kaidan again. “That’s another thing. Your Mom. She hasn’t even met me yet. What if –?”

Kaidan pulls their joined hands over and uses it to prop his chin on. A smug smirk twists across his lips as he watches with amusement. “You know, maybe you shouldn’t resign your commission. You get all sorts of nervous when you aren’t on active duty.”

Caleb’s eyes narrow. “You aren’t nervous at all about this?”

“Not at the moment.” Kaidan downs the last of his beer. “Cross that bridge if and when it’s time to.”

Caleb opens his mouth to make a smart reply, but the words get caught in his throat. Bridge. A shudder works through him and he drops his gaze to the table, noticing as he does so that his free hand trembles just a bit.

Kaidan catches on quickly, immediately squeezing his hand and leaning in closer. “I’m right here. You’re here. The kids are safe. You are safe,” he murmurs, repeating it several times.

Caleb nods, taking deep breaths, but above all, keeping his hand in Kaidan’s. After a minute or two, the images fade and the world slowly rights itself once more. “Thanks.”

“Sorry about that.”

Shaking his head, Caleb replies, “No, my fault. I –”

“Not your fault,” Kaidan insists.

The sound of someone clearing their throat right next to them interrupts the conversation, and Caleb glances over to find Athair standing there. “Am I interrupting?”

Kaidan starts to ward the priest off, but Caleb shakes his head. “Not at all, Athair,” he replies, squeezing Kaidan’s hand once more before releasing it. “How can I help?”

Kaidan creates space and the priest slides into the seat beside him. “I believe this may be one of those instances where I may be able to help you, son.”

Caleb frowns, eyes darting over to Kaidan briefly, but he looks as confused as Caleb feels. “How is that, Athair?”

The priest nods across the room at the table where he’d been sitting. Caleb’s gaze follows to find the woman whose face he does not recognize still seated there, alone. When Caleb turns back around, Athair is waiting for him. “This may come as a shock –”

Caleb snorts softly. “You’ve known me my whole life, Athair. I doubt anything can shock me much more than I’ve already experienced.”

There is a moment, just a small one, where the priest simply stares back at him, eyes flickering between sympathy, pain, and something that strikes Caleb as joy. “Do you recall when we met all those years ago?”

Another shudder ripples through Caleb at the memories that return again. He can’t speak just then, but he nods. Something about the way Athair holds himself, the slant of his smile, the brightness in his eyes – something warns him that whatever it is the man is about to share will knock him off his feet. Good thing I’m sitting down.

“Ruairí showed me the files you recovered, Caleb. I’ve spent the better part of a week assisting Saoirse and Aine as they went through them.”

Athair stretches his hand across the table and drops something in front of Caleb. As Caleb reaches for it, the man also presses something cold into his hand, closing his fingers around it. It doesn’t take much effort to recognize it; another, new St. Sennan medallion, chain and all. Caleb stares at it for a moment. While he asked for a new one, if possible, shortly after their arrival, this is the first time since that it’s come up again. The timing on that strikes Caleb as odd. “What’s this?”

“You know what that is.”

Meeting the man’s eyes, he rephrases the question. “Why now, then?”

“You know his history as well as I, Caleb,” Athair chides gently.

“Aye, that I do, but that doesn’t explain –”

Athair nods at the second item. “Read.”

Caleb’s gaze shifts to the datapad as he does just that. Absently, his fingers start toying with the chain of the medallion, swirling it around on the table into a metallic whorl. And while he senses the two men across from him as they shift in their seats – no doubt Kaidan giving the older man a questioning look, maybe even asking aloud – Caleb doesn’t hear anything outside a soft ringing in his ears as his attention is focused solely on the datapad in his hands ....

#WIP Whenever #ladya writes #mshenko #Caleb Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #Irish Shepard #Athair Connor #OTP: Brothers in Arms

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 57 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Fame nearly gave the designers a heart attack while Violet reached out to a friend and Courtney couldn’t get Bianca out of her head.

This Chapter: A delivery, an investigation, a confession, a meeting, a startling revelation, a secret rendez-vous, and an emotional breakdown.

***

“Miss?” Courtney asked timidly, standing in the doorway. She knew she’d been a bit distracted all week, and could tell that Miss Fame was annoyed with her, but she was trying nonetheless.

“Yes?”

“Ivy sent over the powerpoint for tomorrow. She wants to know if you have any more notes.”

“Leave it.” Fame gestured to her desk, and Courtney hurried forward to put it down, turning to get out of the office and her direct eye line as quickly as possible. “Courtney!”

“Yes Miss?”

“Close the door behind you.”

“Of course, Miss.”

Courtney closed the door, sighing. It had been a long week, Courtney already counting down the seconds until their meeting at Marie Claire tomorrow, nervous butterflies filling her stomach as she wondered what it would be like to see Bianca again.

Would she be all business? Would she flirt with her right in front of everyone? Courtney’s skin prickled, imagining those dark eyes smoldering at her, when the intercom buzzing made her jump, startled.

“Court, got a delivery for you,” Roxy announced through the speaker, and she hurried to reception to see what it was, assuming Roxy meant a delivery for Miss Fame.

At the front desk, Roxy held a small bag out, but when Courtney reached for it, she moved it out of the way, first asking, “Why’s the runner from Marie Claire bringing you stuff from La Perla?”

“I...I dunno,” Courtney said, twirling her hair, already psyched at the prospect of a delivery. It was probably related to the meeting, but even so... “What’s La Perla?”

“Bitch, it’s a lingerie store. A fuckin’ fancy one,” Roxy said, still holding the bag out of reach.

“Oh.” Courtney bit back a smile, abdomen twisting with excitement, lunging forward to grab the bag from Roxy’s hands. “Thanks.”

But Roxy wasn’t giving up without a fight, grabbing her sleeve and pulling her back.

“Ma’am, you aren’t going anywhere until you answer. What’s the deal?”

“Well…” Courtney said, “I’m kind of...dating someone who works there.” Which was at least a little bit true, wasn’t it? Maybe dating was too strong a word, but she didn’t think “fucked” would be appropriate for workplace chitchat.

“And he used the company messenger?” Roxy asked. “He must be pretty high up then, who is it?”

Courtney giggled at her mistaken assumption, shaking her head and saying, “That’s all you get today.”

She wrestled her sleeve out of Roxy’s grip and skipped off back to her own office, where she eagerly opened the bag, first pulling out a handwritten note on BDR stationary, which Bianca must have written as soon as she’d gotten to the office, since her plane landed only a few hours ago. Not that Courtney was tracking her flight.

See you tomorrow. XX, B

Courtney touched the letters, feeling a bit silly but also incredibly elated that Bianca was thinking about her at all, much less sending her presents. She then pulled a tissue-paper wrapped package from the bag, opening it carefully to reveal an embroidered lace turquoise bra and matching panties. She quickly stuffed them both back in the bag before anyone else saw, cheeks warm and skin pleasantly tingly.

Finally, she had an excuse to send another message. She pulled out her personal phone and quickly typed it out before she lost her nerve.

COURTNEY: Thanks for the present. ;)

Courtney felt a rush of adrenaline as soon as she hit send, wondering how long it would take for Bianca to reply. When those three magical dots appeared almost immediately, she nearly gasped with delight.

BIANCA: You gonna wear it for me?

COURTNEY: Maybe…

Her heart pounded as the dots appeared once again, waiting with bated breath for Bianca’s response. She seemed to be typing for an awfully long time. But when the message finally came through, it was short.

BIANCA: Can’t wait.

As she took a deep breath, trying to calm her frantically beating heart, the phone rang, the shrill sound nearly knocking her out of her chair. She put on her headset, trying to compose herself and swallow down her giddiness before answering.

“Miss Fame’s office…”

***

ROXY: Hey girl, got a minute?

SHANNEL: Sure babe, what’s up?

ROXY: One of our assistants here is apparently dating someone high up at MC. Need you to help me solve who it is.

SHANNEL: Oooh, I love a mystery. Clues?

ROXY: Yeah, your runner just dropped off a bag of La Perla for her.

SHANNEL: Lol cheesy. Stand by…

SHANNEL: OMG. Last person to send the runner out was Joslyn. BDR’s assistant.

ROXY: Whaaaaaat????

SHANNEL: Who’s the assistant?! Is she gay???

ROXY: I mean not that I am aware but daaamn!!!

ROXY: PS It’s FAME’S assistant

SHANNEL: OMG

ROXY: GUUUURL

IVY: Lol, what’s up?

ROXY: BDR just sent Courtney a delivery

IVY: Yeah, and? It’s probably for the meeting tomorrow

ROXY: Bitch it’s La Perla

IVY: :O :O :O :O

ROXY: Exactly

***

If anyone asked, Jovan would say that he found creating support pieces boring, that there was no creative challenge to rounding out a collection, that his talents were wasted on closing up holes and tying up bows.

In reality, it was something he looked forward to every collection.

Once all the major pieces had been selected, once the stars of the show were submitted, it meant that he could direct his creative attention outside of the company without it affecting the quality of his work.

Jovan pressed save on the drawing he had just finished doodling, a repetitive pattern of beige thread roses on a cream white background for the seasons underwear not a detail anyone would pick out when they looked at the runway, but one he knew would matter to senior management when they were shooting the looks in the spring.

He stretched out, hiding a yawn behind his hand as he grabbed for his coffee cup.

He had spent the majority of last night on his building's roof, his outfit for this year's christmas party an orange suit he was decorating every square inch of in graffiti.

Jovan raised the cup to his mouth, the liquid barely touching his lips before he spit it back out, the coffee ice cold.

“Fuck-“ Jovan groaned. He had completely lost track of time, and as he looked around the room, it seemed like he wasn’t the only one, all of his coworkers caught up in their own projects.

“Hey, Chachki,” Jovan twirled around in his chair, turning so he could look at his desk mate. Violet was sitting with her sketchbook, her gigantic headphones on, her head resting on her hand.

“Yo-“ Jovan stretched his foot out, tapping the edge of Violet’s chair which made her jump, a loud laugh leaving Jovan at her surprise as she took her headphones off.

“What?” Violet sounded annoyed, but Jovan had learned that it was simply who she was once she was in the zone, interrupting her a really bad idea if she wasn’t in the mood.

Jovan figured that was part of why Trixie had paired them up, neither of them ever taking it seriously when the other one snapped.

“Coffee?” Jovan waved his mug, a smile on his lips. Violet considered it for a second, but then she nodded, grabbing her own cup to go with him, Jovan not even noticing that the page Violet had been on was completely blank.

***

“Your team is already here,” Joslyn said, leading Miss Fame and Courtney down the hall to the conference room. “So if you’re all set, I can let Bianca know-”

“Bianca knows better than to keep me waiting,” Fame said, tossing her coat to Courtney, who stumbled a bit.

“Of course,” Joslyn assured her, and was proven right by the fact that Bianca strolled into the conference room a few moments after them, greeting Fame warmly and then turning to Courtney, a sly grin on her face.

Joslyn was no idiot. She had a sneaking suspicion when the whole “find a vegan chef for Thanksgiving” thing had come up that Bianca had her eye on someone new, and it was basically confirmed yesterday when Bianca had asked her to arrange the La Perla delivery.

Today was the first time she’d met Courtney in person, and she had to admit that she certainly was beautiful--Joslyn even briefly wondered if she was wearing the lingerie before telling herself that was inappropriate.

“Hey, Courtney.”

“Hi,” Courtney replied, biting her lip, cheeks reddening. Zero poker face whatsoever, Joslyn noted, turning her head to hide her amusement.

“Courtney,” Miss Fame said, and Courtney’s head whipped around, standing a bit straighter, her arms still full of the heavy white coat. “This conference room is too crowded. We don’t need you here.”

“Oh. Okay, I…” Courtney looked around, slightly embarrassed, clearly unsure where to go, and Miss Fame let out a little huff of annoyance.

“Hey Jos,” Bianca cut in, a hand on Courtney’s lower back guiding her towards Joslyn. “Why don’t you set Courtney up in my office?”

“Your office?” Miss Fame repeated.

“Yes, so she’s close by in case you need anything. And she can hang your coat in my closet, where it’ll be safe.” Bianca punctuated her suggestion with a self-satisfied grin.

“Sure thing!” Joslyn chirped, taking Courtney’s elbow and leading her from the room before Miss Fame’s death glare melted them both. She then unlocked Bianca’s office and opened the large closet for her.

“Thank you,” Courtney said, taking the offered hanger.

“So, um, I guess just make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, tea…juice?” Joslyn asked sweetly, pretending that it was totally normal for an assistant from another company to be hanging out by herself in Bianca Del Rio’s office. This girl could very well be a brief fling, and probably was, but it didn’t hurt to get on her good side anyway.

“Thank you, but that’s alright. I don’t want to be any trouble for you.” Courtney bypassed Bianca’s comfy sitting area, instead choosing a hard-backed Lucite chair in front of her desk. She seemed to be trying to make herself as small as possible.

“It’s no trouble, honestly.” Joslyn smiled again, and Courtney looked up at her.

“I appreciate that. You’re really sweet.”

“That’s why I make the big bucks,” Joslyn joked, and Courtney chuckled.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, go ahead.” Joslyn perched on the arm of the sofa.

“Is Bianca a good boss?” she asked, shifting in her seat.

“Why, you after my job?” She crossed her arms, feigning offence while giving Courtney an exaggerated look of grave suspicion.

“No,” Courtney laughed, “I just...I don’t know. I know you’ve been here for awhile, and she seems like a good boss. Is she?”

Joslyn wasn’t sure exactly why Courtney was asking, and she was also aware that anything she said could easily be repeated, so she was careful but honest in her response.

“Sure! I mean, she’s tough. And she expects us to work really hard. But she also works really hard, so...plus, you know, her last assistant is now one of our senior ad execs, so that bodes pretty well.”

“Yeah, definitely. Thanks.” Courtney smiled again, this one bright and dazzling, and Joslyn couldn’t help but return it.

***

“Ginger! You’re back!” Katya exclaimed, a big smile on her face as she entered the staff room, holding a slightly misshapen hand-painted mug gifted to her from a student several years back. She set it down on the counter and went to give her friend a hug. The fifth grade teacher had been in Florida for a family reunion, and Katya couldn’t wait to hear the stories of her self-described crazy redneck relatives.

“I’m back,” Ginger affirmed, her smoky voice even hoarser than usual. “Made it out by the skin of my teeth.”

Katya laughed, then winced, pulling back suddenly.

“You alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah, I just like...I must be PMSing because my tits are so sore,” Katya said. She poured coffee into the mug and then sat down heavily. “And I’m exhausted.”

“Oh yeah? How long’s that been going on?” Ginger asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, I dunno. I’ve felt a little flu-ish on and off all month, just kinda tired and achy and nauseous, but it’s never developed into actually being sick. I probably just had a stomach bug that didn’t want to leave my system?” She shrugged, adding, “These flesh suits we lug around are weird.”

“That they are.” Ginger sat down, putting a hand over Katya’s. “But in this case, there may be an explanation.”

“Oh god, am I dying? Like, faster than normal?”

“Well, I’m no doctor, but…it sounds like you’re pregnant.”

Katya burst out laughing. “Oh my god, can you imagine?”

Her giggles died down when she saw that Ginger wasn’t laughing along. Which was weird, because she’d been the one to make the joke in the first place.

“You’re kidding, right?” Katya asked, a sense of dread growing inside of her as she repeated, “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

Ginger paused before shaking her head slowly. “I mean look, I could be wrong, but…”

“Oh my fucking god.”

***

Bianca stifled a yawn, trying to pay attention to Raja and Alyssa’s presentation on their upcoming collaboration. She had no doubt that the spread would turn out well in the end--the partnerships with Galactica always did, the fashion house absolutely known for bringing high quality editorial pieces.

However, at the moment, she was seeing a lot of taupe, and with the level of jet lag she was still suffering from, it really wasn’t enough to keep her eyes engaged. Luckily, they appeared close to the end.

“If we’re committed to this color story,” she cut in, “then I’d like to think about incorporating a few more graphic prints as well, and some exaggerated shapes.”

“You’re so impatient; that was our next slide,” Raja replied, motioning for Ivy to click forward, showing sketches of some of the looks with bold large-scale prints beside the originals.

“Wonderful.”

“Yes, the idea is for the makeup to be the real color stars,” Alyssa said, “but of course we want plenty of eye-catching shapes.”

“Yeah, it all looks good, very promising. What do you say we order some lunch, take a short break, and then go over the potential advertising partnerships my team put together?” Bianca suggested, and was met with nods (and a few relieved sighs) from around the table. She dialed her office extension on the intercom. “Joslyn, can you bring in the lunch menus?”

She began to get up from the table when she noticed Fame giving her some side eye from across the table.

“What?”

“Where are you going?” she asked suspiciously.

“Bathroom. Is that okay with you?”

“Mm…” Fame sat back, eyes still narrowed, and Bianca laughed, shaking her head.

“If you really want, I can bring you back a sample.”

“You’re disgusting,” Raja called out, and Bianca shrugged, letting out a cackle before ducking out of the room.

She hurried the short distance down the hall, passing Joslyn on the way, swiftly entering her office, a rush of endorphins filling her with glee the second she caught a glimpse of Courtney inside. She hadn’t expected for her to get under her skin so fast, but the entire week in Tokyo, she’d found herself thinking about her, fantasizing about her, anxiously waiting for the next time they’d meet. And now here she was, finally.

Courtney stood, turning around slowly. At first, she looked shy, maybe a bit unsure, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Hi. How was your week?”

“Brutal. I thought about you every second…” Bianca said quietly, her gaze unwavering.

Hearing that seemed to embolden Courtney, her eyes brightening before her face melted into a suggestive grin.

“Shut the door.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bianca grinned back at her, closing the door firmly behind her. She looked as fresh and pretty as always, in a belted, long-sleeved shirtdress and ballet pink heels. But all Bianca was interested in was what was underneath. “Are you wearing it?”

“Come see,” Courtney said, head tilted coyly, and Bianca strode forward, immediately taking hold of her belt, pulling it loose. As she began undoing the buttons as fast as possible, Courtney added, “I don’t usually wear bras, but I figured I could make an exception today.”

“Special occasion?” Bianca asked, heart hammering in her chest as she opened the dress to reveal the bra and panties she’d sent over yesterday, the teal standing out on her creamy skin, even better than Bianca had imagined.

“Uh huh…”

“Fuck.” She stepped closer, wanting nothing more than to wrap her into her arms, but Courtney evaded her touch.

“Now show me yours.”

Bianca’s head lifted, temporarily stumped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

A smirk pulled on Bianca’s lips as she asked, “Do I look like some kind of sex object to you?”

“Yes.” Courtney twirled a lock of hair around her finger, perched on the edge of the desk.

Bianca had to hand it to Courtney--she was proving to be a lot feistier than planned, and it was a very welcome surprise. She slipped off her jacket, placing it on the guest chair, and then turned around. “Maybe you better help me with the zipper.”

Courtney took her time, dragging the zipper down, fingers trailing along the exposed skin until Bianca shrugged out of the dress, letting it pool in a heap at her feet. She turned back around, standing in what was at least pretty respectable silk underwear, if slightly unmatching as usual, and a black garter belt hooked to her thigh high stockings.

“Well?”

Courtney’s green eyes raked over her body, taking in every inch of her, making her feel exposed in a thrillingly unfamiliar way. When her eyes finally lifted to Bianca’s face again, she was breathing hard. She reached out and pulled Bianca in by the waist.

“Kiss me.”

“I’ll get lipstick all over you,” Bianca warned, fingering one of her bra straps.

“I don’t care. Kiss me.”

Bianca smiled, tilting her chin up and moving in for a kiss.

It was electric, hungry--even better than the last time. Courtney’s hands clawed at her ass, pulling her closer, and soon she had her sprawled on the desk, falling apart in the most glorious way. Bianca pulled down one of her bra cups, tongue wrapping around her dainty pink nipple, making her gasp and whimper, thighs tightening around Bianca’s hips.

Bianca moved a hand between her legs, feeling through the thin lace how wet she was already, one finger teasing her clit, rubbing her in gentle circles as she watched her eyes roll back.

“Oh god…”

“Look at me…” Bianca cradled the back of her neck, wanting nothing more than to watch her beautiful face as she came, when she heard buzzing, a phone vibrating beside them. She paused, fingers going still, eliciting another choked whimper. “Is that you?”

“What?” Courtney blinked up at her, pupils fully dilated, hips still rolling fruitlessly against her hand.

“The phone.”

“Shit!” Courtney gulped for air, struggling to sit up as Bianca handed her the still ringing phone, doing her very best to answer in a normal voice, the anguish in her eyes nearly making Bianca laugh. “Yes Miss?”

Bianca tried to suppress her dimples, patiently waiting as Courtney listened to rapid-fire instructions from Fame, but unable to resist teasing her a little bit more, fingers just barely touching the front of her panties.

“Uh huh...yes, I…” Courtney drew in a sharp breath, and Bianca’s dimples deepened, now unable to wipe the grin off her face. “Yes...right away, Miss.” She finally hung up, pressing her forehead against Bianca’s shoulder, chest heaving.

“Everything okay?” Bianca asked, moving closer, hovering over her.

“Yeah. I have to…um…” Courtney swallowed hard, tucking her face into Bianca’s neck, teeth grazing her skin.

“Can you spare a few more minutes?” Bianca murmured, and Courtney nodded.

“Yes. Please…”

“Please what? Tell me what you want.”

It had become clear to Bianca, during their last encounter, that Courtney was not accustomed to dirty talk. She had no trouble giving orders in some circumstances, but words like fuck and pussy seemed beyond her. So of course, being the sadistic bitch that Bianca was, getting her to say them became an urgent desire.

“I want...I want your fingers…” Courtney grasped at her wrist, doing her damndest to shove Bianca’s hand down the front of her panties.

“Yes? Where? Tell me.”

“In my cunt,” she said finally, voice breaking, and Bianca would have laughed if it wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You got it, angel…” Bianca slid two fingers into her wet pussy, curling them forward, pausing a beat when she gasped. She could feel nails dig deeper into her ass and asked, “You okay?”

“Fuck me, please…”

How quickly they learn.

Of course, Bianca obliged, working her quickly, thumb dragging figure eights over her clit the last thing she needed to send her over the edge with a high-pitched, drawn out moan.

“Shhh, shhh…” Bianca whispered, attempting to remind her where they were, who was potentially still in earshot. And then her whole body went soft, practically molding itself to Bianca’s, and all Bianca wanted to do was wrap her into an embrace. A pang of regret that she had to quickly return to the meeting went through her, and she tipped Courtney’s chin up to kiss her softly. “Hey so...you got any plans later tonight?”

Courtney shook her head, still in a daze.

“So there’s a restaurant near my place that I’ve been dying to try. Why don’t you come over after work and I can take you out on a real date...wine and dine you like you deserve.” The way her face lit up at the suggestion told Bianca that it was absolutely the right call.

“Okay…”

Bianca helped her down off the desk and guided her into the bathroom, where she handed over a makeup wipe and then went to work fixing herself.

“I gotta get back, your boss is already suspicious of my whereabouts,” Bianca said, pulling open a drawer to find a lipstick that matched what she was wearing before. “But use whatever you need in here.”

“Thanks, I-shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“No, um...when she called, she was giving me a lunch order and I can’t remember if she wanted broccoli or kale…”

“Go with the broccoli,” Bianca advised, walking back to the office to find her clothes. “But why’s she not ordering from Pierre’s? We literally chose it because it’s her favorite.”

“She said there was nothing she wanted on the menu,” Courtney said, stepping forward to help with her zipper.

“What a diva,” Bianca chuckled, and turned around to face Courtney, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

Courtney nodded slightly, and Bianca couldn’t help notice that her dress was still unbuttoned. She took one last gratuitous look, and Courtney giggled, pushing her towards the door.

***

When Trixie opened the door to the supply room, he heard a strange noise.

He had only meant to come in to get a new box of pens, his favorite one all dried up, but now, he paused, waiting for a beat, but when he heard the noise again, he knew instantly what it was.

Someone was crying.

“Hello?” Trixie stepped inside, flicking on the lights, taking a few steps. “Anyone in here?”

Trixie had expected to find Blu, or maybe even Kiara or Kandy, but instead, he came face to face with Violet, who was standing in the corner, hiding in between reams of printer paper and extra staplers, her crutches resting against the shelves.

“... Violet?”

Trixie could see that Violet had been crying, black smudges under her eyes telling their clear story, but she looked so different from when she had been lying on the floor with a broken foot, the expression on her face completely devastated.

“Please go away.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” Trixie didn’t like to force himself on anyone, didn’t like to force anyone to open up, but he couldn’t accept that anyone from his staff was crying, couldn’t look away when someone he was responsible for was so obviously in distress. “Is it your ankle?”

“No,” Violet looked up, turning her eyes towards the ceiling as she quickly dabbed under her eyes, her lip between her teeth. “It’s stupid.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t tell me.” Trixie leaned against a shelf, making sure he didn’t knock over the boxes of pencils. “Please.”

“I just, it’s-” Violet took a deep breath through her nose. “I’ve been trying so hard to keep up, and I can’t. I just- I can’t. I work on my dress, and I can’t let anyone else touch it because it isn’t finished-”

Trixie nodded, listening to Violet’s words. He understood her point of view, a couture gown a completely different beast from designing ready to wear. No one expected Violet to do the entire thing herself, not even Violet, but Trixie could see that she had an extremely clear vision in her head for how she wanted it down to the beading, which meant she couldn’t ask for anyone’s help yet and least of all tailoring.

“And when I’m on schedule for the dress, and I try to focus on the sketches, I don’t, I can’t, I just scrapped half my sketchbook because it isn’t good enough, and I can’t push through because I’m so tired and-”

“Hey, hey hey hey.” Trixie reached out, gently touching Violet’s arm. “Violet. Violet. Listen.” Trixie squeezed it, forcing her to focus on him. “It’s okay that you don’t have any support pieces-”

“Maxwell has done over 30 submissions.” Violet looked like she was about to cry again, and Trixie could see how much she hated it painted all over face.

“Maxwell is a senior designer.”

“But-”

“No. No buts.” Trixie cut her off “Do you want to hear a real problem? I’m trying to replace Aiden, and so far, Fame has rejected every single candidate.”

“She does like to do that,” Violet gave the tiniest smile, and Trixie couldn’t help but grin.

“Exactly, but do you know why I think she’s so tough this time around? Because the last hire we made, is a goddamn rockstar, who happens to be closing on her first ever show.”

Violet snorted, like she didn’t actually believe him, but she looked so much better, the woman he had come to genuinely care for slowly coming back.

“Go home Violet.” Trixie squeezed her arm one last time before letting go. “Go home, and I’ll see you Monday. Okay?”

Violet nodded, not even opening her mouth to argue, and Trixie couldn’t help but feel like he had finally, finally, finally broken through to his newest designer.

***

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toenialls · 4 years

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hi ! here’s a fic rec i made bc what better time to read fics than a quarantine. i’ve ordered them below from longest to shortest. :)

these are all the fics i’ve read/re-read this quarantine

hiding place by alivingfire @alivingfire (365k)

louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. enter harry styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. with one fateful meeting in a x factor bathroom, louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

from the x factor house to madison square garden, from the fountain studios stage to stadiums across the world, louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace louis as the center of his universe. meanwhile, harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. all he has to do now is convince louis to give them a chance.

or, the canon compliant harry and louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

relief next to me by dolce_piccante @haydolce (333k)

au- what happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific craigslist post? fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

young & beautiful by velvetoscar @mizzwilde (227k)

louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name zayn malik means something, niall horan doesn’t stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and harry styles, only son o a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes

now in a minute by thealmightyavocado @avocadolouie (150k)

13 feels like yesterday for many people, but for louis it actually was.more than anything in the world, louis tomlinson dreams of growing up. simply skipping over all the awkward embarrassing years of teenage existence and getting on with life, real life.

so when thirteen-year-old louis wakes up in the body of his thirty-year-old self, he expected his adult life to be picture perfect. and maybe it is. he has it all…or so it seems.

except his favorite person and lifelong best mate, harry styles, is totally missing from the equation and louis doesn’t understand why. he has a lot of catching up to do and as adult life turns out to be more than what he bargained for, louis can’t help wondering why a life that seemed so perfect, feel so empty.

or, the 13 going on 30 au that should have been done years ago.

walk that mile by purpledaisy (149k)

harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “i wanted to get the most out of this trip so i planned it carefully.” his voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “so far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything i’ve tried to do.”

"sticky fingers?“ louis repeats. offended. “are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the dotty diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

"polk-a-dot drive in,“ harry spits before getting out of the car. he slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and louis rolls his eyes.

or, a route 66 au where falling in love was never part of the plan.

own the scars by crinkle-eyed-boo @crinkle-eyed-boo (144k)

“but i don’t belong here,” louis insists.

"why do you say that?“ james asks.

"these people are all drug addicts and alcoholics,” louis shrugs. something sparks in james’ eyes. “and you’re not?”

louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friends, for the life he’s supposed to want. after an accident that nearly costs him his life, louis’ parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to make his own decisions. on the long and difficult road to recovery, louis must confront the truths he;s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

wear it like a crown by zarah5 @zarahdetand (141k)

au- as a part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in buckingham palace, louis expects prince harry to be a lot of things – most notable a royally spoilt brat. never mind that the very same prince harry used to star in quite a number of louis’ teenage fantasies.

unbelievers by isthatyoularry @isthatyoularry (136k)

it’s louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. however, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifying uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life that much worse. mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

or, the one where louis and harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything

empty skies by green_feelings (134k)

for three years, harry has been running from his past. now, he is moving to london and pledges to fulfill only his dream – making it big in the music industry. not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. as is his past catching up to him.

louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there meant a lo to hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. he’s still happy. maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

featuring perrie as harry’s adorable flatmate, niall as his manager, and liam and zayn as louis’ bandmates.

love is a rebellious bird by 100precentsassy @100percentsassy gloria_andrews @gloriaandrews (134k)

au. in which the boys still make music. louis is the concertmaster of the london symphony orchestra, harry is the new! and exciting! interim conductor / ex-cello prodigy who “has made mozart cool again” according to esquire magazine (louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and niall is the best. zayn and liam are around too.

don’t hum Bolero

wild love by purpledaisy (130k)

“good,” julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “now, i only have one more question before you can go. what are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?“

"we said we’d stay friends no matter what,” harry says smoothly his chin lifting in defense.

"that was our one thing going into it,“ louis agrees. “stay friends no matter what.”

julia raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow, “that’s all fine and good. but i hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. if one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. i’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, i’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

or, two friends try to date each other for forty days. it’s supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated

got the sunshine on my shoulders by hattalove @hattalove (124k)

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist, he didn’t have much regard for what he left behind– a life, a family, a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want. he’s rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he’s forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past– and louis, who’s spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

or, au based on the movie sweet home alabama.

california sold by isthatyoularry (123k)

notoriously closeted boyband member harry styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile louis, as his best friend, is back home in manchester living the typical life of a 24 year old. when harry needs louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

or, a fake-relationship au between two lifelong best friends.

the finish line (is a good place for us to start) by loadedgunn @loaded-gunn (122k)

louis tomlinson, one-time formula i world champion, is looking forward to the 2013 season, he’s got zayn in his garage and liam in his ear, he’s got cowell racing backing him despite former indiscretions, he’s got experience and the best race car out there. not to mention he’s the only racer they have, after oliver dropped out late last year.

it hasn’t occured to him that oliver would have to be replaced by february. that is, until he finds himself at a party celebrating harry styles leaving ferarri for cowell. harry hotshot styles, who broke a record last year and is probably looking to make a big splash. harry styles, who is talented and somewhat intimidating. harry styles, who left ferarri for reasons unknown and seems kind of lonely and harmless in person. lonely, harmless, hot as fuck. whatever.

the first thing louis does is take him under his wing. from there it’s nine months of slow-burning romance, the past catching up to them, turning into the human puppy pile that is ot5 and a lot of feelings until, of course, reaching the finish line.

tired tired sea by mediawhore @mediawhorefics (113k)

as a b&b owner on the most remote of all the british isles, louis tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sol companions. until one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

here in the afterglow by fondleeds @fondleeds (88k)

"if you hadn’t noticed, i don’t have many friends,” louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing his way into his throat.

harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes louis’ stomach shake. “i’ll be your friend.”

or, 1970’s au. in a tiny town in idaho, louis’ life changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

chasing empty spaces by domesticharry @domestic-harry (79k)

the year is 1934 and harry styles was to inherit the largest tobacco firm in the south. his parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. the problem was, harry hadn’t realized that he didn’t want nay part of the future until he met a mechanic named, louis tomlinson.

don’t want shelter by kingsofeverything @kingsofeverything (76k)

louis and harry have known each other all their lives. friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. except for that one time ten years ago...

when hurricane nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families' old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own.

during the storm, and in the months after, they’re both forced to reevaluate their history and what they mean to each other

money moves by mmaree @zqua1d (74k)

"i’ll cut straight to the chase,“ liam announces. he leans forward, and zayn is met with steely eyes and steepled fingers. "i’m willing to offer you fifty grand if you’ll enter into a small…partnership with me. this would be in addition to your salary at payne innovations, of course. think of it as a bonus.”

zayn narrow his eyes. “what kind of partnership?”

"a fake engagement.“

"oh,” zayn says, relived it’s nothing illegal. “wait–what?”

“a fake engagement,” his boss repeats slowly, as if he’s convinced zayn’s comprehension skills are significantly lacking. “for six months. maybe less if i can pull it off sooner but don’t worry– you’ll be paid the full sum regardless of how long it takes.”

zayn’s suspicious, and he doesn’t even know why. there’s nothing to be suspicious of because, clearly, liam’s lost the plot. zayn’s having a conversation with a complete nutter. there’s no other reasonable explanation.

he clears his throat, searches liam’s eyes for a sign he’s taking the piss. “how long what takes?”

a smile plays at liam’s lips. “for me to be hired as the cto at titan technologies.”

to the ends of the earth by stylinsoncity @aliensingucci (68k)

during a yearlong hiatus, louis visits harry at his cabin in idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

lend me your hand by quickedween (63k)

society has long since decided that the soulmarks everyone is born with are entirely unfashionable. they’re just another way for people of a lower class to scam their way into marrying above their station.

lord louis tomlinson viscount loring, on the other hand, has always believed that he will find his soulmate one day. despite preparing for a match his whole life, he is entirely unprepared for the arrival of gemma styles’ younger brother.

harry styles has been travelling and away from society for over a year. coming back, he intends to spend time with his sister, and slowly reacquaint himself with life in town. he doesn’t need to wait around for a soulmark to determine how his life will play out.

small doses (loving you it’s explosive) by quickedween (40k)

louis tomlinson finds himself at vitality fitness to try and turn his life around after having left his cheating boyfriends of four years. the gym’s owner, liam, quickly becomes a good friend but his right hand man is rude and dismissive from the get-go.

louis and harry continue to clash all while harry is trying to move his way up the ranks in manchester’s amateur boxing circuit, but they can’t seem to stay away from each other.

learning to eat by photo41 (28k)

celebrity chef louis tomlinson has a problem, he’s opening his first restaurant in 9 week . and he has yet to hire a pastry chef- apparently people think he’s “standoffish” and “rude” and “quick to temper” . whatever. he ends u saddled with an annoying, happy-go-lucky rookie who also happens to be obnoxiously good looking. his tv presenter and pop star friends only add to the drama, and for fucks sake would everyone please stop quoting julia child?!

these roads we stumble down by onewasturning @onewasturning (18k)

he’s completely drenched, not one milimetre of him covered in rain, and the old sheepskin cover over the seat is probably going to stink afterwards from the damp. but even with what seems to be a constant tremor shaking his body, brown hair plastered to his forehead, and a blue tinge to his skin, he’s still probably the most gorgeous person that harry has ever seen.

or, harry picks up a hitchhiker in oxford, and it’s a long ride to glasgow.

#this took an embarassing amount of time and its not even all of them #anyways hope this was useful to someone !#also i am allergic to capital letters muah #fic rec #mine

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actress4him · 4 years

Text

Whumptober 2020 - Day 30

I tried another new style for this one. It's not one that I would want to use for a fic any longer than this one, but it was interesting to do and I thought it worked pretty well for this. It certainly allowed me to include a longer span of time without writing a forever long fic. Nothing at all is graphic in this, but you should still check the warnings because there's a lot packed in.

Also, you don't even know how close I came to leaving it on Day 31. But I decided to be nice. You may thank me in the comments.

Read on AO3

Read on FFN

Day 30 (No. 31) - Experiment

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: dehumanization, all of the following is referenced, not shown - human experimentation, muzzles, mild blood, needles, teeth pulling, respiratory distress, seizures, burns, broken bones, electrocution, surgery

DAY ONE

“New specimen, coded KK5738. Male, approximately twenty-one years old. Mother is full-blood Galra, father was full-blood human. The subject takes on the appearance of an Asian male - white skin, black hair, eyes...vary from grey to violet, depending on lighting. Height is approximately five foot eight inches, weight approximately one-hundred-forty pounds.

“We will begin with a general examination.”

DAY TWO

“You can’t do this! You will not get away with this! You people are sick! You’re all going t-nngh hnnghaah!”

“Subject KK5738 continually exhibits aggressive behavior, despite its restraints, including shouting and attempts to bite myself and my assistants. Measures are being taken to prevent this from happening any further.”

DAY THREE

“X-rays show that most of the subject’s internal organs are the same as a full-blood human. However, there appear to be two or more extra organs of unknown function, adjacent to the liver and intestines. Further examination is needed. Exploratory surgery has already been scheduled for next month.”

DAY FOUR

“The subject possesses the most fascinating blood I have ever seen. Results from the first sample have come in, which are detailed in Report 659. Today I will be taking several more samples for further testing.

“I will also be taking skin and hair samples. The skin sample will come from the inner right arm.”

DAY SIX

“I don’t know how you think you’re going to get away with this. I am a U.S. citizen. I am the leader of Voltron! Yo- hhha.”

“Subject KK5738 still shows defiance whenever given the opportunity to speak, though it seems to have weakened since the first day. This is probably due to the amount of time it has spent immobile.

“Currently its typical mouth guard has been changed out for a surgical gag so that we may extract teeth without being bitten. We will also be testing its jaw strength.”

DAY NINE

“That was the last injection.”

“Thank you. As will be detailed in Report...ah, 668, Subject KK5738 has now received the first twelve of the substance injections that we plan to test. Substances one, four, and seven caused no noticeable reaction. Substances...two, three, eight, and ten caused mild external reactions, as detailed in the report. Substances five and nine’s reactions were internal, monitored via MRI. Number nine we did have to administer an antidote to prevent further damage. Substance eleven caused the subject to vomit extensively. Substance number six had the most dramatic reaction, garnering the use of an epipen, and it appears that substance twelve will be similar. I’m seeing signs of respiratory distress already, and -”

“He’s seizing.”

“Alright, go ahead and give it. So the subject showed the most sensitivity to substances six and twelve. Specific symptoms will be listed in Report 668.”

DAY THIRTEEN

“Daily monitoring of the various wounds created on Subject KK5738’s thighs. The superficial cut through the first layer of skin has nearly disappeared. The one millimeter deep cut has completely scabbed. The five millimeter cut has finished sealing up, but has not yet started forming a scab. The two centimeter cut is still open, with no visible change.

“The first degree burn is still peeling slightly, but the redness is no longer noticeable. The second degree burn is possibly slightly less red than yesterday, but the blisters have not changed. The third degree burn shows no visible signs of healing.

“Once everything is fully healed, tests will be performed to ascertain the damage to nerve and muscle in these areas. Unfortunately, it does not appear at this time that the subject has any accelerated healing abilities that could be useful for advancing our technology.”

DAY FOURTEEN

“Subject KK5738’s oxygen deprivation test showed that it can last thirty seconds longer than the average human male before losing consciousness. Further tests will have to be performed to determine why.”

DAY SEVENTEEN

“Aaahngh!”

“We have just concluded our breakage tests for Subject KK5738’s bones. This included a finger, rib, radius, and femur. The exact pressure needed for each bone will be recorded in Report 682. Bones will be reset, and healing will be monitored.”

DAY TWENTY-FIVE

“So far the subject has responded well to the nutrient drip that it has been on since the beginning. Starting today we will be removing one of the nutrients...ah...protein, so that we can study the long-term effects. In a human, we would see swelling of the abdomen and extremities, as well as muscle weakness, brittle hair, and ridges in the fingernails. Maybe one day I’ll be able to run these same tests on a full-blood Galra for comparison. For now, we’ll have to see what this hybrid can tell us.”

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT

“The subject seems to have calmed, or perhaps weakened, to the point where the mouth guard is no longer necessary. We will, of course, keep it on standby in case this changes, or we require something to muffle its screams.”

DAY TWENTY-NINE

“Please...please stop...I don’t...I don’t want it.”

“We are applying electrode pads to key points on the subject’s body so that we can proceed with our electric shock test.”

“Please, I just...I wanna go home.”

DAY THIRTY-ONE

“Today we are monitori-...A-admiral! Sir!”

“At ease, Doctor.”

“What a pleasant surprise! To what do we owe the honor?”

“The hybrid specimen, of course. You’ve had it for a month now, and I’ve been keeping up with your reports religiously. I decided it was high time I come see it for myself.”

“Of course, of course. Well, here it is. Quite the specimen, is it not?”

“Well, it’s like you said...pretty much looks like an Asian kid.”

“True. But as I’m sure you’ve seen in my reports, there is so much that is un-human about it. I honestly can’t believe it got away with passing for human for as long as it did.”

“I...am human. And you...you people are monsters.”

“Hm. I see you’re letting it talk.”

“Yes, sir. It seemed unwise to keep the mouth guard on it for such an extended period of time if it could be helped. I’ve been tempted to put it back on, to be sure, but I imagine that after a while of seeing that talking doesn’t get it anything, it will stop.”

“You’re just as bad as the Empire...you know that? You can’t...keep me here forever. Someone will find me.”

“And just who is it that you think is even looking for you, hm?”

“Admiral, sir, I -”

“No no, don’t worry. I think this could help you with your little talking problem. Lieutenant, pull up the article for me.”

“Voltron is looking for me. My team...they’ll find me.”

“Your team thinks you’re dead. The whole world thinks you’re dead. Here, see this? ‘Black Paladin Killed in Crash to Earth’. This article is from a month ago. No one is looking for you because you didn’t make it to the hospital alive. Your Galra mother identified your body. You were cremated. Your funeral was two weeks ago. It was quite the touching ceremony, you should have seen it.”

“It appears you have sent KK5738 into shock.”

“Maybe it won’t be quite so talkative anymore.”

DAY FORTY-FIVE

“I must admit I have been looking forward to this day since first setting eyes on Subject KK5738’s X-rays. Currently we are prepping the subject for surgery by cleaning the torso where the incisions will be made. I’ll be starting with a Y-incis-...pardon me. What is going on out there?”

“Everybody step back! Hands up where we can see them!”

“What in the -...who are you, and what do you think you’re doing in here? This is a high level security facility -”

“I am Commander Takashi Shirogane, and these are the Paladins of Voltron. Now drop the scalpel and step back away from our friend.”

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