#it’s been three months and I’m still in emotional turmoil over being told I lost six pounds

[mianavs]

disclosing the truth

part 4 of Cathexis

a/n: a big reveal and another dangerous encounter with our favorite magician. plenty of Illumi to come in the next part

tw: smut

wc: 3k+

Cathexis

A night of fitful sleep awaited you after stripping off your dress, shoes, and makeup. Illumi visited your dreams that night, the way he usually did, except the dream was different. Your dreams of Illumi usually consisted of him walking beside you but, other times, he imprisoned you in the basement of his family’s estate on Kukuroo Mountain. This time was different in that you were in your current bed, immobile, and staring at him as he approached you. Illumi stoically reached out and brushed a lock of hair from your face while you stared utterly petrified. His hand traveled south until you felt a sharp pain behind your neck that blurred your vision and all you could make out was a cruel smile on Illumi’s beautiful face.

It was your last day at Heaven’s Arena. A call from your mother had come in that morning and you were summoned for a reunion back home. Immediately following her call, Hisoka called and asked to meet with you claiming it was important. While the little stunt he’d pulled the day before with his bloodlust had shaken you up, your impulsiveness overpowered your judgement and you agreed to meet him over lunch.

On the way to the café, your senses heightened and an overwhelming desire to not meet Hisoka overcame you. You pushed past your discomfort and approached the table where the magician sat. His smile was unusually genuine when you sat down but you matched it to the best of your ability despite the warning sirens going off in your head. Hisoka began making small talk but you were quick to cut him off; something that seemed to amuse him.

“I don’t have time, Hisoka, so if you could please cut to the chase and tell me what’s so important.” His brow quirked as he studied you until a text message flashed on your phone that captured his attention as well as yours. It was from your mother.

[Casual dinner at home. No need to wear the dress]

“Ah…you’re meeting with your family.” It wasn’t a question but you replied anyway hoping it would get him talking.

“Do you know who your family acquired the debt from?” His question caught you off guard but you didn’t like his insinuating tone and you grew irritated in a matter of seconds.

“No…I don’t.” Your body tensed uncomfortably at the grin that spread on his face. You didn’t like where the conversation was going but you couldn’t afford to lose Hisoka as a contact.

“…and wouldn’t you like to know?”

You sprang from your chair and a single word repeated in your mind as Hisoka’s grin turned sinister the longer you remained on your feet.

Leave

You disobeyed the voice in your head and sat back down. Hisoka could just be pulling a fast one on you but you still wanted to know—needed to know—what he said regardless if it was true or not. “Tell me what you know, Hisoka.”

“Have you ever felt as if you were being watched, Y/N?”

“Yes,” You answered wanting nothing more than to know what Hisoka knew and if it meant tearing down your act then so be it. “I know I’m being watched and I know who’s watching me.”

Surprise and something darker flashed on his face but it went as fast at it came and his face contorted to its usual smug expression. “But you don’t know why, do you?”

“I wouldn’t be here wasting my time with you if I did,” you answered bluntly. “But what do Illumi’s stalking tendencies have to do with my family’s debt?”

“Well Illumi told me the most interesting story yesterday. It was about a transaction that took place eighteen years ago between a family of assassins and a family of hunters. A betrothal between the hunter’s infant daughter and the assassin family’s eldest son instead of money for the debt owed to the assassins.”

The air thickened around you. You wanted to call him a liar and storm out of the establishment but you remained glued to your seat and processed everything he’d said. You opened your mouth to protest but the words died on your tongue. Denial and anger settled into your core and, in momentary weakness, your nen seeped out and enveloped you in wind gusts. It whipped your hair across your face and caused the table and its contents to shake. A scream from one of the patrons broke your fit of fury and your air settled then dissipated.

Hisoka frowned while you took a deep breath to relax and thought over the situation. It made no sense for Hisoka to lie about something like this. You thought about your parents and the parting advice they’d give you every time you parted ways:

“Always avoid assassins. They’re dangerous people.”

Did they want to avoid getting into more debt? If they debt was settled with a future engagement between you and Illumi, why work as hard as they did and make you follow in their footsteps as well? You got lost in your thoughts mulling over every interaction with your parents to recall some sort of hint of a betrothal with the Zoldycks. Nothing came to mind and you were more confused than ever until a possibility came to mind. Were your parents accumulating money to pay off the debt and liberate you?

“Looks like you’ve put two and two together,” Hisoka pointed out. You were about to leave but a startling thought crossed your mind that made you stop in your tracks.

“Does he know...we’re gathering the money to—”

“No, he doesn’t know.” Hisoka interrupted and the words left unsaid both startled and reassured you.

I didn’t tell him

You didn’t ponder too much on Hisoka’s motivations for not revealing your family’s possible scheme to Illumi simply because you didn’t have the head space for it at that moment. Uncovering Hisoka’s motivations would be a project for another time because you were certain that your paths would cross once again. While you were still shocked and upset by his revelation, you thanked Hisoka before leaving the café and heading home. You hoped your intuition was right and your parents were gathering money for that reason. If that wasn’t the case, however, you would need to prepare yourself for a life on the run because you doubted the Zoldycks would cross their arms and do nothing. They would do surely do what they did best; track you down and kill you.

Where the boisterous winds of your hometown had once filled you with joy, you headed straight to your ancestral home anxious about the conversation to come. There was nothing more important than uncovering the truth and with that in mind you bolted past the servants and grounds people stopping only when you were outside of your father’s study. With your heart thumping wildly in your chest, you knocked on the door twice and waited until your mother’s calm voice rang through the door.

“Come in, Y/N.”

Seeing your parents again after almost two years made your heart swell but the turmoil you were currently in stopped you from running into your mother’s arms. Instead you stood at the door with tears welling up in your eyes that cascaded down your face when a strangled cry voiced your distress.

“Is it true? Did you agree to marry me off to the Zoldycks?!”

They were too composed for your liking as if they’d expected you to find out about it on your own—like everything else in your life. However, this time you didn’t want to be on your own and wanted a normal life without an assassin betrothed and hunter parents you rarely saw.

“We promise you it will never come to that. We’ll pay off that debt even if we have to risk our lives.” Your father’s normally modulated voice was thick with emotion and it managed to expel your worst fears.

Your mother’s arms enveloped you and your father immediately joined her until they both held you in their arms each taking turns explaining everything to you. The debt your grandfather had accumulated from Zeno Zoldyck. The time the three of you were summoned to the Zoldyck mansion one day after your first birthday and your father was first made aware of said debt. With the three of your lives on the line, Zeno and Silva gave your father an ultimatum that he took while secretly vowing to dedicate the rest of his life to paying off the debt and saving you from a life as a Zoldyck wife.

Over the next three days, you and your parents counted the money you’d made since your last reunion and found out you were only a couple billion Jenny short of the original debt. You’d been relieved at first until your parents disclosed another aspect of your betrothal you hadn’t been aware of—the deadline of your engagement was your twentieth birthday. With your future at stake, you left home determined to take on as many jobs as you could and make enough money to cover the debt and any interest the Zoldycks would surely demand.

Your untarnished reputation among the jackpot community aided you in your efforts for employment and you were booked for three months straight. There was nothing more important than making money so you ended up ignoring Hisoka’s calls and texts. Illumi only checked up on you once, much less than before, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was due to your encounter in Heaven’s Arena. Whatever the case, he hadn’t confronted you which meant Hisoka was still keeping your family’s secret—that was until you received a text message from him after you’d finished a job.

[Getting tired of chasing you. Meet me in Swardani or I might have something to tell Illumi ♥]

Not knowing how Illumi felt about the betrothal made you anxious. He could either be your ally in ending the betrothal or your enemy and tell his family about your plan. In the end, you couldn’t risk it and set off to Hisoka’s hotel in Swardani.

You got to the lavish hotel late that evening and wondered if your parents still owned their condo in the city to avoid spending money on a motel room. On the way up to Hisoka’s room, a plethora of scenarios played out in your head about what Hisoka would want but the one that stood out the most was him seeking a payment of some sort for helping you. It was the most logical but his mercurial character made it difficult to predict what he would demand.

The door swung open before you could even knock with his honeyed voice inviting you in. You steeled yourself before stepping inside his suite and letting the door close behind you. Hisoka greeted you with damp hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. He led you to the sitting room where he took a seat and motioned you to so the same. As you followed him, you tried to look anywhere but his chiseled torso but your inexperience with men had you curiously staring at his chest, abdomen, and broad shoulders. The smugness on his face broke your trance and you focused on the matter at hand.

“What do you want, Hisoka?”

“I wanted to see my new favorite toy. I missed you, Y/N.” His spoke plain calling you what you were to him and you might have slapped him for it had you not been working against time. “I don’t have time for this. If there’s nothing else, I’m leaving.”

You stood up and walked away but Hisoka’s hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back. Ready to lash out at him, you stopped when you noticed his playful grin was gone and his mouth was set in a hard line. The voice in your head that warned you of danger begged you to leave but Hisoka’s bruising grip wouldn’t let up no matter how hard you tugged.

“Not so fast. You owe me, Y/N. You didn’t think I told you about Illumi expecting nothing in return, did you?” The singsong-y voice that contrasted his threatening words alarmed you and multiple scenarios played out in your mind on how to leave Hisoka’s presence without suffering too much damage.

“I have no money.” You bit back and he chuckled, pulling you forward until you crashed against his hard form. Assaulted by the sweetness of his smell and the smoothness of his skin, you were defenseless against Hisoka’s mouth laying claim to your neck.

“There are other forms of payment, Y/N, and I just so happen to be a flexible creditor.” He purred against your ear. A wave of heat spurged from your core and spread to your torso and limbs.

“N-no!” Ripping yourself from the confines of his body, you staggered back a couple of steps. “You can’t— ”

“Ah, saving yourself for Illumi?” He laughed and it triggered your wrath.

You attacked first using Ko to focus your nen to your hand. Hisoka easily avoided your fist but it was the powerful winds of your nen technique that cut his skin. You avoided the blow Hisoka aimed at you and dashed to the door to leave, only to be dragged back by an invisible force that wrapped around your torse and your bruised wrist. You stopped breathing when, with the help of Gyo, you saw the pink stretchy material that connected you to its owner.

“I knew you’d be a fun toy to keep around. Now, let’s have fun.”

He gripped your head and attacked your lips in a bruising kiss. When you refused to respond no matter how much he sucked on your bottom lip, Hisoka bit down harshly and you gasped. His tongue delved into your warm mouth and a moaned escaped him that sent goosebumps all over your skin. Hisoka wasted no time in laying claim to your entire mouth, humming in pleasure when he lapped against your tongue and you let out a helpless moan. His kiss fogged your mind and all your thoughts focused on the warmth of Hisoka’s heavy tongue and the bubbling pleasure in your core. Before you knew it you were kissing him back, mimicking his tongue’s movement’s with your clumsy one but his responding moans encourage you to go further. Despite your bounded state, you pressed yourself against Hisoka with the primal need to feel his warmth overtaking your body and mind. Without warning, he pulled away from the kiss and the two of you were panting when his Bungee Gum disappeared and you were released.

“I won’t force you,” he offered, the seriousness of his tone catching you off guard. Your legs moved of their own accord and you found yourself walking toward the door with the voice in your head telling you to leave quickly. The ache in your core was still there, however, and the apex between your legs twitched angrily needing release. You had never done this with anyone but Hisoka’s touch left you hungry for more, so you whipped around and rushed to him, crashing your lips against his unexpecting ones.

Teeth clashed against teeth as you tried to match his fervor. Under normal circumstances, you would have been mortified from your inexperience but all reason was thrown out the window and you focused was on the budding heat from your sex and Hisoka’s tongue languidly trailing down your neck. He ran his hands down underneath your thighs and hoisted you up while you wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped his pink tresses. He groaned in approval when you tugged on his hair and he took you to his bed where he set you down.

The two of you stripped out of your clothes in seconds and tossed them aside before falling back onto the bed and finding each other’s lips once again. Hisoka pulled away after drawing blood from your bottom lip and settled in between your legs before sucking on a hardened nipple while flicking and pinching the other with his fingers. You shook like a leaf from his ministrations on your breasts and whined when he released your swollen nipple with a pop. Amused by your frustrated whines he traveled down your stomach leaving a trail of wet kisses and bite marks. You hoisted yourself up your elbows to see where Hisoka was going only to fall back on the bed when he flattened his tongue and lapped there.

“AH!”

“Mmm!”

Jolts of pleasure shot up your body. You arched your back and trembled as Hisoka licked, bit, and teased your bundle of nerves. The pleasure that had been building since you stepped into Hisoka’s suite finally erupted with one last bite on your clit and the release you’d been chasing washed over you and left you trembling from the aftereffects.

The daze you were in left you vulnerable for Hisoka to have his way with you and you only snapped out of it when he buried his large cock in your tight warmth.

“AH! H-hurts—it hurts!”

Tears dotted your eyes from the painful stretch but Hisoka paid them no mind. He bottomed out until his heavy balls slapped your skin while you gripped the sheets and cried. You searched for any semblance of compassion in Hisoka’s amber eyes but they were clouded in lust as he bore holes into your own—he was lost in his pleasure and yours was no concern of his.

When the pain did subside, you wrapped your shaky legs around his waist to bring some much-needed friction to your clit. While Hisoka selfishly chased his release, you worked on yours by greedily grinding your hips against his. The friction coupled with Hisoka’s slow deep thrusts had your cunt creaming and every time he pulled out, a sheen of white covered his thick cock that he admired before slamming it back inside.

Hisoka was an insatiable lover and you quickly lost count how many times the two of you came that night. Each time his warm release coated your walls and trickled out of you when he pulled out, the sight of you, a trembling and moaning mess, caused his cock to grow hard again and he’d plunge it back inside you.

When he finally had his fill of you, Hisoka collapsed on the bed next to you humming in satisfaction. You lied next to him until your body relaxed and breathing evened out. Sticky cum covered your aching legs and you wanted nothing more than to clean it off and leave. Gritting your teeth, you slowly shifted your legs towards the edge of the bed until they dangled off and touched the ground.

You hissed as your body screamed in pain from the unwanted movement, but you were determined to leave that night—at least until Hisoka’s arm shot out and pulled you back down on the bed.

“Ah! What are—”

“Just stay. It’s late and your body is sore.” He murmured before turning around and closing his eyes.

The voice in your head vehemently opposed Hisoka’s proposal but he had a point, your body was in no shape to move let alone walk the long way to your parent’s condo or a motel. You sighed in defeat and burrowed yourself in the sheets, your back to Hisoka, before eventually succumbing to sleep.

#hxh #hxh fanfic #hxh x reader #hxh x y/n #hisoka #hisoka morow #hisoka x reader #hisoka x y/n #hisoka smut #hxh smut #illumi fanfic #illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck #illumi x you #hisoka x you #tw: smut #slow burn #ongoing fic #navs.hxh #navs.cathexis

[laurore-stormwitch]

Here is my written-during-an-emotional-crisis “short” take on how is Nikolai going to propose to Zoya. They like to play tough but I imagine them both being really soft with each other, so I always believed it would be a moment somehow like this. And yes I do love to project my emotional issues on zoyalai thank you both very much to them.

word count: 1969 

tw: mild reference to blood/violence

our first lifetime

Nikolai tossed a rock in the lake, watching the water curl and smooth in circles. He was sitting with his back leaned on an old oak, his knees up and his head thrown lazily on the side towards the sunlight, glancing at Zoya every now and then. They didn’t get to have many moments like this anymore. Since the war ended three months ago, their life had been a whirlwind of changes, sleepless nights, meetings and parades throughout the country. Nikolai cherished these rare times they got to spend on their own, the simple pleasure of knowing they had each other after it was almost taken away from them. Considering his life spent searching for adventures and thrill, he thought he was beginning to understand the appeal of ordinary things now. Even though he would not call the gift of having Zoya by his side, spread on the grass with the wind in her hair, ordinary. Three months and he still didn’t get used to this one bit. He turned to her, taking in the sight of her relaxed, eyelids closed, the morning rays warming her skin and his heart. They’d been here an hour or so, the same thought turning inside Nikolai’s head over and over again, not for the first time in these months. He laced his fingers with her hand, stirring her out of her quiet. There was a certain nervousness curling in his chest as he wondered why he hadn’t spoken yet. He told himself it was because he was trying to set up a grand gesture, something to deserve her, but that was not it. He was just scared. Scared of letting this slip again, of being so close to have everything he had ever wanted. Even the idea of staying away from Zoya sent a searing ache through his body. A sudden urge burned his throat in response, as if the words were fighting to get out on their own will. Just tell her. Gather some boldness and tell her. He couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to know that they could have this for a long time, if there was a kind of peace awaiting for them. And maybe the perfect moment was this coddled secret quiet they shared, the way they felt safe with each other.

“Zoya?”

“Mh?” She murmured. Nikolai let the words roll out before thinking twice about it.

“I want to ask you something.”

Zoya opened her eyes to look at him, with that serene and soft look reserved only to their intimacy; she prompted herself up, turning to face him and leaning on his legs to focus her attention on him, their hands still bound together. As she lowered her head on his knee, the scar on her chest peaked through her loose shirt. Nikolai traced it slowly with his fingers, feeling the grip of anxiety stealing the air out of his lungs. Flashes of the battle stormed his mind as it happened so often after the war, throwing it into chaos. He saw Zoya lying on the field, the stench of the fight, the smell of ozone and rain scraping at his nose. His clothes drenched with her blood, the way he wanted to rip his skin off his hands to make the stains go away, bright red streams hiding his darkened fingers. The hollow quiet in her chest when her heart stopped moving, the well of pain ripping his insides apart as he felt her limbs go numb. Her first ragged breath that tore the silence apart, the light slowly coming back in her blue eyes, the impossible relief he felt as he kept calling for her with a cracked and desperate voice he didn’t recognize as his own. The possibility of losing her, wrenching, shattering everything in its wake, worse than death itself.

“Nikolai - ”

He grasped his name coming out of her lips, blinking until Zoya came into focus again.

“Nikolai, I’m here.”

Nikolai sighed, moving the hold he had on her hand to her wrist, brushing his thumb on her pulse point and letting the rhythmic pounding of her heart take him back to reality. It had become a habit, this small gesture. Whenever the world felt overwhelming, whenever the dread and the grief blossomed at the memory of what had happened, he needed to feel this sound to know that she was real at his side. It was the only act capable to calm him down, to drift him to sleep at night. He felt he was being unfair, sometimes: Zoya was the one who died in his arms, and he was the one still having nightmares about it. But the terror he knew in that moment had been unlike everything he had ever had to live through. She’s alive, he would say to himself, matching the words with every beat. Staying awake for hours gripping at her wrist, carefully watching her breathing. Still gripping it while she whispered in his ear and ran her hand through his hair, while they sealed their wounds one stitch at a time and kissed their scars. We’re fine. We’re together, Zoya would tell him, over and over, a lullaby. Waiting their tremors away like she did once in the confines of a carriage. You haven’t lost her. She came back. When he felt his breathing steadied, he tentatively curled his lips in a reassuring smile, Zoya patiently waiting for him. She waved the smile back, encouraging him to speak with a nod of her head. She’s alive. We’re fine. Ask her.

“You said you have something to ask.”

It occurred to him he could’ve probably planned this better, at least rehearsed a speech maybe. Yet, Zoya was the only truly not calculated and unpredicted event in his life, someone who came in and swept everything else away. It felt fitting to grasp at this spontaneous impulse, and he didn’t regret the impromptu decision. Nikolai didn’t want this to be a political matter. It was about what they had always been; the two of them holding each other together as they had done for the past three years, be it on an evening spent sorting through letters or in a peaceful morning on the shore of a lake.

“You’re going to have quite the number of lifetimes, right?”

Zoya furrowed her brow with an amused look, easing herself on him the way she was before when she noted he was back to being the calm and nonsensical Nikolai she had fell for.

“A bunch, probably.”

She conceded. He nodded and inhaled deeply, tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ears, grazing her gorgeous face with his knuckles. Why was he so tense about this? It felt like jumping off into the unknown and coming back home at the same time.

“Would you like to spend your first one with me?”

Zoya stilled, not moving a single muscle as she looked at him like she was pondering how exactly insane he was being. Despite her incredible ability to stand frozen through a tide of emotions, his thumb felt her heart racing up. When his seriousness sank in, her eyes shone and she pursed her lips, barely containing a grin, feigning indifference. He heard her breath itch.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m kind of asking you to marry me, Zoya.” He huffed with a teasing expression, showing a confidence he didn’t really feel. This time she smiled, knocking him off his feet.

“Oh, yes, I figured. But I don’t see a ring.”

Zoya chuckled, getting him dizzy on that crystal-clear sound. Her cheek was still laying on his knee, her gaze studying him attentively. Nikolai tilted her chin delicately, locking their eyes together, leaning forward.

“I have no ring for now, I’m sorry. I know this is sudden, and it’s soon. I don’t want us to do this because we feel pressured too, or because it makes sense. I just – I want this. You. I want you. More than everything. I’ve never thought it was possible to have a love like this, and now that I do, I’m not letting you go. I want you by my side, for the rest of my pointless human life. If you’ll have me, and I do hope you will.”

The spark in her eyes flickered, a slight tremor of her lips betraying the turmoil stirring in her chest. She closed the inch that separated them to drew him in for a kiss, resting her forehead on his. Nikolai smirked against her mouth, taking her actions as a good omen, an unbelievable solace flooding his chest. A whisper came out of her when they broke apart.

“Took you long enough to ask.”

“Were you getting impatient?”

“You’re know to throw away proposals like handkerchiefs. I was beginning to feel left out.”

Nikolai felt a weight lifting off his chest as he chuckled too at her accurate remark. He could sense there was some truth hidden in Zoya’s words; it was still hard for her to believe that they conquered this, in the end. That there was someone who wanted to be her home. He brushed their lips together again, the touch soft as a feather.

“I promise you this is the only wedding I will actually go through with.”

“I’d make a stunning bride. Hard to walk away from.”

“Most definitely. Is that a yes?”

He registered the shadow sweeping behind her eyes. It was a challenging choice; he knew he was not just asking her to marry him, that it would not be as easy as it felt in this moment. He was asking her to wed a king, to take a country, to face politics and prejudice, to give herself to an otkazat’sya she would have to say goodbye to, someday. As many as the obstacles were, though, he could also see how this future was a promise of light. That every burden withered on the face of the life they could share, and he could only hope Zoya saw that too. Sure enough, she pushed through her doubts, her fortifications crumbling into dust; she cupped his cheek, releasing a long breath and throwing out her answer with an ever so slight shiver in her voice.

“I think I’d like to see you making my first lifetime insufferable.”

“You’re not going to give me the satisfaction of hearing yes, my dear Nikolai, of course I’ll marry your awesome self, right?”

“That was as close as a yes you’re going to get have until you get me a ring, my dear Nikolai.”

They both laughed wholeheartedly, flustered and jittery as two kids with a happiness too great to fathom on their shoulders. Nikolai pulled her on his chest, letting her settle herself in the crook of his neck. He buried his nose on her hair, circling his arms around her, beaming with joy and relief.

“I’ll do it better next time, I assure you. I’ll get you the most precious ring you can imagine, I’ll get down on my knees and everything.”

“You might just like proposals better than weddings. Don’t do the knee thing please, a ring is more than enough.”

She teased, breathing deeply in his scent, her heartbeat slowing down. They stayed silent for a while, tightened in their embrace. Nikolai held her like she was the lighthouse that guided him safely in his troubled ocean, hoping to keep her in his arms so that she wouldn’t notice his watery eyes. He had never felt so lucky in the entirety of his stupid life.

“I’m really glad you said yes, Zoya.”

“I’m really glad you asked. And Nikolai, it was perfect like this.”

Zoya sighed, planting a delicate kiss on his palm.

She’s alive. You haven’t lost her. You’re going to get to hold her forever.

#zoyalai #what else #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya and nikolai #mywriting #fan fiction #grishaverse #yes i did cry while writing this #please leigh do them justice i beg you #king of scars #post row maybe #rule of wolves #nikolai duology #so much fluff

[vampiregirl1797]

Being in Love & Working at the BAU

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

GIF Not Mine.

Click Here For Masterlist.

Word Count: 2,817

Warnings: none that I can think of.

Summary: Y/N realised she was in love with the boy genius of the BAU about six months ago, and she’s been working hard at keeping it under wraps since. Problem? She works with profilers.

When JJ began dating Will it had been obvious to the team from the get go, though the blonde believed she’d done a wonderful job at keeping it from us. At that point, I’d sworn to refrain from hiding anything from the team, because chances are they knew before I worked up the courage to tell them, and also I hated keeping secrets from those I loved.

However, from the moment I realised that I was developing feelings that most definitely were not platonic for a certain member of the team, I found myself taking back my original vow and amending it to the following: be honest about everything but this. And it was difficult. I was constantly monitoring my expressions, my body language and my words whenever I was around him. It was exhausting and stressful, but on the plus side I was almost certain the rest of the team had no idea what was going on. 

I blinked, bringing myself back to the present, seeing as I was at work, focus was key. Though to be fair, almost all of the team had retired to their hotel rooms at that point, so I wouldn’t actually be penalised for getting lost in my thoughts for a minute or two. My eyes flickered over the clear board covered with pictures from the three different crime scenes, and individual pictures of each victim. I always wondered what they were thinking in those photos, they always looked happy and it seemed almost wrong that their happiness had to be in the same vicinity as the gruesome images that portrayed their murder. 

With a sigh, I grabbed my now empty coffee cup and headed over to the small kitchenette in the station. My gaze fell onto Spencer as I filled my mug and I found myself reaching for a new one to pour him a beverage without even thinking about it.

‘Hey Spence,’ I murmured, my voice soft to avoid startling him too badly as I gently placed his steaming hot beverage in front of him.

‘Hey.’ He returned my smile, his brown eyes shining with exhaustion and warmth, ‘what are you still doing here?’

‘Oh, I—.’ I broke off with a sigh, the genuine concern in his eyes made it impossible to lie to him, especially when it was obvious he already knew the truth, ‘I couldn’t bring myself to leave.’ My eyes fell on the clear board again, and lingered on the happy smiling images before I forced myself to look into the warm and comforting eyes of Dr. Reid, ‘I knew if I did I wouldn’t sleep anyway, so I guess I just didn’t see the point.’

‘I understand.’ His eyes fell to the mug he was now holding between his hands as he spoke, and then lifted to meet mine when he was finished. I felt my heart skip a beat in response, as it always did when his beautiful oak eyes were focused on me.

‘We’re quite the pair, huh?’ I chuckled, running a hand through my hair and fighting back the yawn that wanted to escape my throat, ‘how have you been sleeping?’

I saw how hard he fought to keep the exhaustion from his expression before he admitted defeat and let me see it.

‘Spence,’ I murmured, my hand reaching out and grasping his left one. He removed it from his cup and turned it over so that our hands were linked together, ‘is there anything I can do?’

He’d confided a few months ago that he’d been having really awful, vivid nightmares that kept waking him up throughout the night. Eventually, he avoided sleep all together out of fear of what his unconscious mind was waiting to torture him with. I’d offered some tips that had helped me when I’d gone through the same thing: camomile tea, warm baths with lavender oils and playing a soothing playlist to fall asleep to. Since then he’d been sleeping better, but I’d noticed the familiar dark circles starting to form underneath his eyes again.

‘I do have an idea, but if it would make you uncomfortable then I understand.’ He said, biting his lip and subconsciously holding my hand tighter.

‘Okay, what is it?’ Unable to be unaffected by the anxiety that was practically pouring out of him.

‘I read a study that found those who slept in the same bed as their partner reported a higher quality of sleep and no nightmares.’ He spoke so softly that I had to strain to hear him, and when I did, I had to take a minute to process what he’d suggested.

He wanted me to sleep in the same bed as him. I felt different emotions start to I whirl inside of me, each generating a different answer. The anxiety told me that it absolutely was not a good idea. I already had romantic feelings for Spencer, what if doing this made it all the more complicated and more difficult to hide? Another part of me was determined and demanded that I took the opportunity to comfort him, because I loved him and how was I supposed to turn him away when he needed me to help him? But when I looked over to Spencer’s expression I felt the inner turmoil inside my mind fade away—he looked tired, vulnerable and hopeful. All I felt then was a strong desire to help him get a good nights rest and hopefully keep the nightmares at bay. I couldn’t be selfish with him, and if he needed me I was going to help him, even if it meant me being exposed to the feelings I’d been trying to suppress for months now.

‘Okay, but I warn you— I’ve been told I cuddle in my sleep.’ I said, keeping my tone light to diffuse the tension that had formed between us.

He chuckled, the sound was wonderful and I found myself joining him with ease as we both stood to head back to the hotel. According to the clock in the station it was ten thirty, so hopefully we’d get at least eight hours of sleep. As we made our way to the elevator, I wondered how much one night could alter a dynamic between two people.

//

I woke to the sound of my phone ringing, emitting Garcia’s personalised ringtone—‘Baby girl’ by Bryce Vine. My hand went to reach for it, but I stopped short when I realised I couldn’t move. Before I had the chance to panic, Spencer’s familiar scent invaded my nostrils; I could smell the mint smell of his shampoo, the faint remnants of his woodsy cologne and the vanilla from the hand lotion he’d borrowed before bed. He was spooning me from behind and I was helpless to stop myself from melting further into his warmth and turning my head to further take in his comforting scent. I was just on the precipice of falling back into the most peaceful sleep I’d had for years when the phone started to ring again. 

Spencer stirred this time and grabbed it, groggily promising that he’d be in soon before hanging up and tossing his phone onto the carpeted floor.

‘Was that Garcia?’ I asked, clearing my throat in an attempt to remove the sleep from my voice.

‘Yeah, they have a lead and want us in as soon as possible.’ He sighed, his grip not loosening from around my waist, ‘that was the best nights sleep I’ve had in... god I can’t even remember.’

‘It was for me too.’ I admitted softly, fighting the emotions waging a war inside my head.

I was insanely comfortable in his arms, as if I belonged there... as if I was home. But I was sure to remind myself that the feeling was one-sided—Reid didn’t feel that way about me, and why would he? I was his colleague and a friend they trusted enough to confide in about his sleeplessness. Now was not the time to get lost in my own feelings, this had been about him and I refused to allow myself to get lost in my own head.

‘We should get going.’ I murmured, reluctantly easing from his grip and heading for the bathroom to get dressed. 

By the time I emerged, Spencer was gone and I tried to ignore the way that made my stomach drop to my feet. I sent a thumbs up to the text he sent me:

Headed to the station, I’ll see you there. Thanks again for last night. Spencer.

When I arrived at the station I headed straight for the coffee before joining the others at the rectangular table in the conference room. I noticed Emily’s surprised look when she noticed I hadn’t bought a mug for Spencer but I ignored it, unwilling to focus on how I was feeling. Right now I had a job to do, there was no time to deal with the rejection and abandonment coursing through my veins. 

‘Garcia found a link, each victim was registered to a chat room discussing different fantasy novels.’ Hotch announced from where he was stood at the head of the table, his head down as he flicked through one of the case files.

‘And each agreed to a face to face meeting the night before their death with someone by the username Red Youn. I tried tracking the IP address but he’s a smart cookie and re-routed through about a million different servers.’ Garcia revealed from the speaker in the centre of the table.

‘Red Youn is an anagram for your end.’ I thought aloud, ignoring a certain pair of eyes I could feel boring into the side of my head, ‘what if he sees himself as the antagonist in his own version of a fantasy novel?’

‘That would explain the similarities in victimology.’ Morgan commented, talking about their almost identical appearances. 

‘But how would he know that before meeting them?’ My lips pursed, ‘were any of the women in contact with anyone new before they died?’

‘Ahh, sugar you always ask the best questions.’ Garcia praised, ‘yes all three women spoke to a man with the same number on the days leading up to their death. This included sending photographs and discussing their favourite villains in different fantasy novels. I’m sending you the name and address of the person this number is registered to.’

‘Garcia you are wonderful.’ I said, a genuine smile forming on my lips, it was small but it was the first sign of happiness I’d shown since I’d left my hotel room this morning.

‘Aw, tell me something I don’t know.’ She teased before she hung up and we all geared up and headed for the unsub’s residence. 

We had a suspect to arrest.

//

We’d managed to apprehend Jacob Kerwoski successfully and we’d all decided to celebrate with a meal prepared by Rossi at his humble abode. After we’d finished the food we all separated off for different activities— Derek had challenged Garcia to a game of darts, Rossi and Hotch were talking in the library and sharing stories of past cases, Emily and JJ were sat outside each holding a glass of wine and whispering about something they had to keep their voices low for. Reid and I were sat in the living room, I was personally too full to move so I was slowly sinking further and further into the soft cushions around me.

I was grateful that my stomach felt like it was exploding, it provided a distraction from the elephant in the room. I hadn’t directly spoken to Reid since this morning and I didn’t know how to break the awkwardness that existed between us now. I knew it was partly due to my inability to hide my rejection this morning after I’d returned to an empty room once I’d dressed. But it wasn’t his fault that I’d taken it so personally due to my romantic feelings for him. 

‘Reid?’ My voice was soft and tentative.

‘Y-yeah?’ He stuttered, surprised that I’d broken the silence in the room.

‘I’m sorry how I’ve been acting around you today. I just wanted you to know that it’s nothing to do with you, it’s my own issues that I need to deal with.’

He was silent for a long moment after I spoke, his eyes just staring into mine as if he were debating whether or not he should say something. It was a look I was used to seeing on his face— Spence often had thoughts, facts and information swimming around in his head and he had to filter himself. But his next words took me by surprise and had my heart beating out of my chest.

‘I know how you feel about me, Y/N.’ His voice was soft that I questioned if I’d heard him correctly, but the serious expression on his face assured me that I had.

‘H-how do I feel about you Spence?’ I asked, nervously clearing my throat.

‘For the first few years of us knowing each other, you cared for me as a friend, but that changed about six months ago. I don’t know why, and nothing obvious changed in your behaviour. You still bring me coffee, still hug me when I need it, still offer to help me with anything and everything when I need someone to rely on. But the way you look at me now, it’s... softer and warmer. You didn’t used to look at me that way before.’ He said, his voice slower than it usually was when he explained something, his calmness made my heart stutter in my chest.

‘The way you look at me now, it’s the same way that JJ and Will look at each other, except more intense.’ He scooted closer to me on the sofa, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, ‘I noticed it because I’ve been looking at you the same way for the past year.’

I blinked and my mouth fell open as my brain short circuited with the new information. Spencer had been looking at me the same way— how had I never noticed that before? I’d been so concentrated on not revealing my feelings— that I’d apparently sucked at doing— that I hadn’t noticed a change in Spence’s behaviour like he had in mine. I’d say I was a terrible profiler but I knew that I never would have noticed regardless of anything else, because I’d always believed he deserved better than me.

‘Y-you love me?’ I breathed, the emotion in my voice rendering me incapable of speaking higher than a whisper.

‘I do.’ His smile was soft, his eyes sparkled with an affectionate warmth that simultaneously made my heart melt, and breath catch in my throat.

I’m not sure who moved forward first, or if we both moved at the same time, but the next thing my mind registered was his lips moving agains mine. It started out tentative, but as Spencer’s hand slid in my hair and pulled me even closer to his chest, the kiss deepened. My hands went to his shoulders and slid up to his scalp to curl into his tousled hair. I felt him moan into my mouth when I gently tugged on the strands, and when he started to guide me to lay back onto the sofa I went willingly, pulling him along with me. 

It was hard not to get too lost in the kiss, or to take it further than we should, because finally being with him just felt so right and natural. But eventually we pulled away, reminded that we were at risk of someone walking in on us when Garcia and Derek started cheering in the other room.

‘That was...’ I trailed off, my brain still too lost from the electricity of the kiss, ‘wow.’

‘I-I ugh couldn’t agree more.’ Spencer murmured, his hand sliding from my hair so that he could wind his arm around my shoulders. 

As I melted into his side, we chatted quietly for the rest of the night, our voices no higher than a whisper as it wasn’t necessary and it allowed us to revel in our own little bubble. It was much later, when we were both on the cusp of sleep that I nuzzled my face into the side of his neck and murmured the words I’d been holding back for six months now.

‘I love you Spence.’ My eyes fluttered closed and just before I fell into unconsciousness, I heard my genius return the sentiment.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face and a heart overflowing with pure happiness.

A/N: As you can probably guess I’m still watching criminal minds, and finding myself wishing a man like Spencer Reid existed in real life. I hope you enjoyed this one-shot!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #Criminal Minds

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Family Matters More

Keanu Reeves x reader. Requested. (A/n- So, because I’m terrible at staying organized, I have all of my requests, but not who they were requested by, so, when I write and post and you aren’t tagged even if you didn’t request on anon, I am very, very sorry, it’s no one’s fault but my own.)

Masterlist

Warnings- Pregnancy, Angst (it’s fine at the end though.)

Dropping the phone to the dark veined, marble kitchen counter, Y/n sighed heavily, raking her nails through her hair. Tears prickled at her eyes, making them glassy and ready to overflow. It had been coming, her entire family knew it, but Y/n still couldn’t believe the news she’d just heard from her mother; her uncle, who she’d grown up extremely close to, had died, from lung cancer. He’d been suffering for almost two years, aggressive chemo had only worked the first time, but when another cluster of tumors had shown up in a follow up PET scan, nothing had worked and her family’s only option had been to make his last days comfortable. Unfortunately, his ‘last days’ had turned out to be thirteen grueling months. 

Uncle Kenny had wilted away like flowers at the beginning of winter, growing duller as the days dragged on. The last time Y/n had seen him was months ago, she’d wanted to visit him at the hospice, but collectively, her parents and husband had urged her to keep their interactions restricted to over the phone, not wanting to stress her out too much. It had frustrated her at first, Uncle Kenny was her favorite uncle, always able to put a smile on her face when she was a kid and had taught her so much about the great outdoors while her parents were too busy climbing the corporate ladder to do it themselves. But though it was hard, eventually, Y/n had relented, but only after her uncle had personally requested that she stay away. That had come after she’d told him that she and Keanu were expecting. He loved her, and his unborn grand niece, which was why he couldn't risk something happening to Y/n or the baby because of added stress.

Hanging her head in her hands, Y/n tried to quell the stinging in her eyes, but her efforts were fruitless and before long, hot tears were falling freely, punctuated by soft sobs racking her body. It wasn’t supposed to hurt that much, Y/n knew that it was inevitable, and it should have comforted her that he’d gone in his sleep, but really, it didn’t. If only he hadn’t been such an avid smoker, then maybe he’d still be there, hopefully to teach her daughter the things he’d taught Y/n when she was a kid.

“So, babe I-” Keanu cut himself off as he entered the kitchen. Worry immediately swelling in his chest at the sight of his wife in tears, “Hey,” he cooed, immediately going over to where she sat at the counter, pulling her flush against his chest and smoothing his hands over her hair, “Shh,” he kissed the top of her head, “What’s wrong baby?”

It took a while, Y/n was blubbering so intense that she couldn’t speak, but after about fifteen minutes spent in Keanu’s comforting embrace, she settled enough to form words, “He’s gone Ke,” she sobbed, burrowing into his chest, “Uncle Kenny’s gone.”

Right there, Keanu’s heart broke for her. Of course, everyone knew that the moment was coming, but still his wife had lost someone dear to her, and in such a painful way. All he wanted was to take the hurt away, she was supposed to be enjoying the path to motherhood, not breaking down because she’d lost a loved one. “I’m sorry baby,” Keanu kissed the top of Y/n’s head again. “Come on,” he eventually urged her off of the barstool, hugging her close as he led them to the living room, cuddling her as they sank onto the sofa. “Can I get you anything? Water or tea?” Even if he couldn’t fix her heartbreak, Keanu could still take care of her, and their baby.

“No,” she shook her head, staring forward blankly, her fingers absently tracing circles on her growing bump, too upset to notice the fluttering kicks against her stomach. Why couldn’t he have just stuck around for three more months? If not to see her grow up, just to meet her, at least once. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keanu probed, wishing that he could offer more than just a listening ear and a hug.

Y/n shook her head again, “Not really,” her words were soft and broken, “Can we just sit here for a bit?” 

“Of course sweetheart.”

Funerals were always emotionally draining, but it was especially so when you were six months pregnant and your emotions were working in overtime. Huffing as she entered their bedroom, Y/n winced as she stationed a weary hand at her aching back. The lengthy service had been held at a church in the city, Uncle Kenny just had to be a devout Catholic in his final days, and the old, worn, wooden pews hadn’t been very kind. Worse yet, the kitten heels she’d opted to wear didn’t provide much support when she’d had to spend nearly two hours on her feet, standing at the entrance with her parents as they thanked everyone as they trickled out of the cathedral. 

With a pained groan, half from her back, half from the headache she’d acquired at some point throughout the day, Y/n slowly sank into the armchair, intent on starting to remove her shoes. Just as Y/n had lifted one swollen ankle onto her other knee, Keanu came into the bedroom, tugging at the neck of his black tie, his longish dark strands brushing his shoulders, the salt in his beard signalling that he hadn’t gone for a trim in a while. “Let me do that,” he offered, coming to kneel in front of her. 

“No,” Y/n flinched away, “I’ll do it.” She was upset with him, though, she hadn’t let him know yet. Y/n had spent the last week or so in deep, deep thought; her uncle had been a smoker, which had led to lung cancer and, ultimately, death. Keanu was a smoker too, and Y/n couldn’t help but worry that she’d lose him like that or to some other type of ill health. 

Furrowing his brows, Keanu tilted his head to the side. Y/n had been cold with him all day, holding his hand, but only reluctantly so, and barely saying a word to him on the drive back to their house. He understood that she was hurting, but he didn’t want her to shut him out because of it. “What’s wrong?”

“We just came back from a funeral, what do you think’s wrong?” Y/n grumbled, struggling to take her shoes off, eventually submitting to his help. “Excuse me,” she pushed off the arm chair, shrugging off the black blazer that she’d worn over her smock dress, letting her hair down afterwards. 

“Y/n,” Keanu sighed her name quietly, “Please, just talk to me. I know this is hard for you but-”

“I want you to stop smoking,” the admission just tumbled out of her mouth, with barely any warning. She’d had it; watching her uncle wither away was hard enough, Y/n was sure that she couldn’t survive watching Keanu being broken down like that. And worse yet, raise their child on her own, what was she supposed to tell their daughter? That her father puffed his life away even though he knew she’d need him?

“What?” Keanu slipped his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, taken aback by her harsh request.

“I want you to stop smoking,” Y/n repeated firmly, “I don’t want to lose you like that. And even if its not cancer, there’s a whole bunch of other stuff that it could cause. I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you, you know that.”

Keanu chuckled humorlessly, hoping to lighten the moment. Y/n had never had a problem with his nasty vice before, they’d been together for years, and now, out of the blue she wanted him to stop? “Honey,” he chuckled again, “Don’t be ridiculous.” In retrospect, accusing his pregnant wife of being ridiculous may not have been his best move.

“Ridiculous?” Y/n repeated incredulously, “You think I’m being ridiculous for wanting you to be healthy? Well maybe I’m being ridiculous for having a baby with a man who’s not taking care of himself, who probably doesn’t even care if he lives long enough to walk his daughter down the aisle one day.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He scoffed, already exasperated, “I’m fine Y/n, healthy and right here.” He loved his wife, but like almost every other husband in the world Keanu didn’t want to be wrong. Besides, he was stuck in his ways; old habits die hard. And above all, he was scared, Keanu didn’t want to think about missing one of the most important days of his daughter’s life, no father did. Unfortunately though, instead of his inner turmoil encouraging him to be sympathetic to Y/n's cause, it just fanned Keanu’s flame, rousing the worst reaction, “And you know what? If having a baby with me is so fucking ridiculous, maybe we shouldn’t have kept it! Hell, I’m older than you anyway, maybe I’ll just die, have you thought of that?” 

Y/n’s lips quivered, frightened at his tone and at a complete loss for words. How could he say those things? “I…..” Nothing would come, and suddenly, Y/n wanted to be far away from Keanu. That wasn’t the gentle, sweet man she married. Her husband was loving and sensitive, he was overjoyed when they’d found out that they were having a baby and ordinarily would have never said something so cruel. Y/n didn’t know what had prompted the seemingly overnight change, but she did know that if Keanu was going to be like that, she didn’t want to be in the same house with him.

Seeing the tears in her eyes and the slight shake in her form, Keanu swore under his breath, “Fuck.” He couldn’t believe that he’d let fear and anger get the better of him like that. He stood; wooden and glued to the floor as Y/n suddenly started moving around in as much of a haste as her condition would afford her, grabbing a large bag from their closet and packing some of her stuff into it, “I’m- shit,” he mumbled when she wouldn’t stop to hear him, “Y/n,” he pleaded, reached out to grab her arm, huffing in defeat when she pulled away, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yeah, well you did.” Zipping the top up, Y/n swung her bag over her shoulders, too enraged to take the time to put her shoes back on, so instead shoving her tired feet into the nearest pair of flip flops, a fluffy set that she usually wore after getting into her pajamas. Without another word, she was leaving the bedroom, headed towards the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Keanu followed Y/n down the steps, and able to move a little faster than her, he easily blocked her way at the bottom.

Her cheeks were tear stained and Y/n’s eyes were already red, one hand gripped the strap of the bag tightly while the other was placed protectively over her bump. Keanu hated seeing her cry, yet, that night, he’d been the one bringing tears to her eyes. “Home,” was all she offered, trying to squeeze through the space between his larger body and the railing.

“You are home,” he countered, folding his arms.

“I meant home, to my parents,” she clarified, not even sure why she’d bothered to tell him. At the side door to the garage, Y/n grabbed her car keys off the little brass hook, singling out the remote for her car alarm and then hitting the button at the top to unlock it.

“At least let me drive you,” he didn’t want Y/n to leave like that, distraught and past dark. Even in the security of her car, anything could happen, and above all, her safety came first, triumphing any amount of anger over their spat.

“No,” Y/n was getting into her car, clumsily sliding into the driver’s seat, “I just…...I don’t want to be around you right now, okay?” 

The harshness in her tone coupled with her actual words stung like a snake bite to the chest, though Keanu was well aware that he’d said much worse not too long ago. He should have been reasonable instead of acting like an insensitive jerk. He should have heard her out and talked things through with Y/n instead of spewing battery acid.

The garage door reeled open and Y/n started backing her car out, not paying Keanu any mind as he called after her. Desperately, he followed on his feet for as far as he could, though, as usual, he was reminded that his knees weren't what they used to be and before long, Y/n's car was far beyond his reach, his wife and child, who he was  absolutely terrified to lose, gone, and he'd had no clue when, or if, they'd ever be back.

Sleep had been hard to come by that night, so hard that it never really came. Keanu's mind was constantly bombarded with anxious thoughts of Y/n. She hadn't answered her phone when he called, probably two dozen times, and when he'd tried her parents place, they'd both rattled off cheap, continuous excuses; she wasn't there yet, she was sleeping or even the age old "she's busy." 

All night, he'd worried about her, even between his fruitless phone calls. Was she sleeping okay? Was she well? How was the baby? For a brief moment, at around two am, Keanu had all but actually made it to his car, still dressed from the funeral, ready to head to his in-laws and mend things with his love, but in the end, fear and reason had stopped him. Y/n needed time to cool off, especially after what he'd said, a mere few hours definitely weren't going to cut it.

And then, slumping into one of the sitting room's sofas, Keanu finally took a minute to think about exactly what had gone down. Her plea had been reasonable; if it had been the other way around, he'd have wanted her to stop a lifetime ago, expect her to do anything that would prolong their time together. But there he'd stood, trying to make Y/n the fool for asking the same of him. 

Maybe I'll just die. Those were his words.

Keanu had never been one to let himself be preoccupied with thoughts of his own death, it was frivolous after all, it wasn't like he could change it. One day, it was going to happen, one day, he was going to leave people behind. And it never bothered him, that was, until he met her. So innocently, not looking to fall in love, but just a month later, doing it anyway. Almost four years ago, Y/n had brought a new vibrancy to his life, and now, they were creating one together. And with every cell in his being, Keanu didn't want to miss a moment of it.

Quitting was hard, he'd tried before. But arguably, before, there wasn't so much at stake. Just like that, with reinvigorated energy, Keanu pushed off the couch, fishing a half empty pack of smokes from his pocket, tossing it to the kitchen counter, only to head to the little draw in the kitchen where he usually kept some more on hand. Even if it wasn't going to be easy, even if the stories he'd heard about withdrawal and the side effects of going cold turkey were terrifying, Keanu knew that he had to. For his wife, for his child. For himself. 

For the rest of the night, knowing full and well that sleeping with her spot vacant would be a daunting task, Keanu disregarded the need for rest, instead opting to sweep the house for any trace of a cigarette; getting rid of everything from stray smokes and glass ashtrays to expensive cigars. If he was going to do it, he was going to do it right. 

By dawn, everything indicating that a smoker resided at their cushy house in the hills had been tossed; dumped in the appropriate bin at the curb, and then, unable to hold out any longer, Keanu finally got in his car, started it up and backed out into the street, headed to bring his family home.

Her eyes burned, half from crying all night and half from just not sleeping at all. Though she'd tried, pillows tucked around her, Y/n still hadn't managed to catch a wink all night, and as the light of dawn split the darkness, she'd found herself queasy with homesickness. It wasn't like she hadn't ever spent a night away from her place with Keanu, but the feeling of being at odds with him like that, knowing she'd actively left so abruptly and so distraught, had made her literally sick. 

Needless to say, things had gone far awry from what Y/n had expected. Of course, he was allowed to be upset, she was asking him to give up something he'd been doing for more than twenty years, smoking, as terrible as it was, was ingrained in his routine. Habitual. And trying to take it away so sudden would be like ripping away someone's security blanket. So really, she had no intention of hurting him.

Yet still, he'd hurt her  

That morning, and the painful memory continued to rack her frame with soft sobs, eventually interrupted by her mother, features pinched with worry, knocking on her ajar door as she poked her head in, "Y/n," she probed tentatively, "Sweetheart, Keanu wants to know if you'd be okay with talking to him now. Please, he's worried about you."

"I don't wanna talk to him," Y/n shifted beneath the mass of covers, swiping away some tears from her reddened cheeks, "Just tell him to leave me alone." She knew, full and well, that she sounded like a melodramatic teenager going through a lover's spat with her high school boyfriend, but Y/n didn't care. 

"Dear," her mother sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I know you two had a fight last night, but he's your husband. Besides, he's already downstairs."

Struggling to turn towards the door and sit up, Y/n couldn't decide if she was infuriated or touched, "What?" Sniffing loudly, she reached for a tissue from the box at her bedside, "Why?"

"Because, he's worried and he loves you," when Y/n didn't look particularly moved, her mother, as adamant on having them resolve their issues as she was, continued, "And he know he's said some stupid things, but he doesn't want to keep things this way. Everyone makes mistakes Y/n. Please just talk to him, he's here and he's as much of a mess as you are. And we both know that all this stress isn't good for the baby, I'm sure she misses her daddy."

Hesitating for a moment, Y/n eventually nodded, absently caressing her bump as she finally permitted, "Okay, fine. Tell him I'll be right down."

Smiling faintly, Y/n's mother thought on it for a minute, before suggesting; "Even better; why don't I ask him up here? That way you two can shut the door and have some privacy."

"Yeah, okay," wiping her reddened nose with the crumpled tissue, trying not to cry again, "He can come up." Mouthing an okay, Y/n’s mother pushed the door back in, walking off without another word, and just as she did, Y/n shoved off the covers, scooting to the edge of the bed and slowly standing. Taking a minute to go over to the full length mirror, passing a brush from the top of the dresser through her bed head and then attempting to straighten her mismatched pajamas, she was just about to go over to the window, to see if Keanu's car was really parked out front, when her door creaked open, the sudden sound making her jump and gasp. 

"Hey," Keanu didn't hold her gaze for longer than a minute handful of seconds before letting his whiskey orbs fall to the hardwood floor, strands from his untamed mane curtaining his tired features. Cautiously, as if he were afraid of upsetting her, Keanu inched into Y/n's childhood bedroom. They both knew the room well, and she remembered the first time she'd brought him to it, the night he'd met her parents for the first time. They'd been skeptical at first, he was older, and Hollywood had given most of their men a bad rep, but by the end of dinner, her mother was smitten and her father…...well, he could tolerate him. They'd brought their desert up there and had it by the window, just before Y/n had showed him around. Their current situation felt far different; void of the warmth of new love replaced by the stifling fear that their marriage was hanging in the balance. 

"Hi," meekly, Y/n replied, swallowing thickly and not knowing how they should have continued. She didn't like how it felt; to be so flustered in his company. They were each other's safe places, refuge after a long, hard day, their first phone calls when something good happened and everything in between. Around Keanu, silence was comfortable and usually, breaking long stretches without words exchanged was easy. But that morning, she didn't have the slightest clue on what to say, on how to begin to bridge the gap that had grown overnight. 

Putting a fist to his lips, Keanu raised his head again, tentatively looking around first to the unmade bed and then to Y/n standing near the closed window as he cleared his throat, primarily to break the tense silence. "I'm sorry," just as she had the night before, Y/n flinched when Keanu reached for her, that time though, it was more out of hurt than anger. She could see that her actions had stung him by the pained look that crossed his face, but he'd done his own share  of damage the night before, and even if she could be talked into forgiving, Y/n wasn't just yet ready to forget. "What I said-"

"Was pretty damn fucked up," the break in her voice brought with it a new wave of quiet tears and Y/n could swear she felt her heart start breaking at his words replaying in her mind. Maybe we shouldn’t have kept it. Maybe I’ll just die. “You talked about aborting our child Keanu! What, were you just lying every time you said you wanted a family with me?”

“No, no, of course not,” scouring his brain for the right words, Keanu’s chest felt tight. He really had messed things up, with the best person in his life, and he wasn’t sure he could fix it. But he had to give it his best. He didn’t think he could stand to leave without his wife. “I just,” hitting his thigh with his fist and shaking his head, Y/n could see him fighting tears, “I got defensive, I don't want to think about not being there for the both of you, it’s scary.”

“Then talk to me about it, try to understand where I’m coming from when I ask you to try to quit,” Y/n’s arms fell to her sides in defeat, “Don’t…..” When she couldn’t finish, Keanu approached her again, and that time, she let him wrap her in his strong arms. It had just been one night, but she’d missed their comfort dearly, there was absolutely nothing that could compare to his embrace.

“I’m so, so sorry sweetheart,” his husky, pained voice was barely a whisper and he followed up his words with a chaste kiss on the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. It felt so good to have her tucked against his chest again, their heartbeats in sync. “I never, ever want to hurt you like this again,” Keanu rubbed her back soothingly, one hand toying with the ends of her freed tresses, “And I want to be with you, both of you, for as long as I can be. So I’m quitting, I’m done with that.”

With tear stained cheeks and glassy eyes, Y/n reared back slightly to meet his equally blurry gaze, “I’m sorry I picked a fight about that,” Y/n sighed quietly, and as much as she’d wanted him to quit smoking, she didn’t want to push him too hard, “And you know, if its too hard then-”

“No,” Keanu swallowed thickly, “It’s not. I don’t care about that, our family matters more to me, and you two are gonna be stuck with me for a very, very long time.”

Through her tears, a glimmer of a smile broke through, brightening her sorrow, and without warning Y/n’s arms around Keanu’s middle tightened and she laid her head on his chest, “Good,” she grinned softly, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him sweetly, “Cause we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana   @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​  @danceoftwowolves​

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick fanfic #ff #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #requested #angst #fluff #keanu reeves oneshot #john wick oneshot #family matter more

[rusty-tetanus-nail]

Ghosting

Dean’s dead, but that won’t stop Eileen from asking him a very important question.

or

The story of how Sam and Sam’s Blurry Wife never met.

------

“Look, Eileen, I know I haven’t been the same ever since Dean- ever since he-” Sam tries to explain, frustrated with himself for not being able to say the word as Eileen drags him towards the pre-prepared table.

“This is a bad idea. I promised Dean not to bring him back and to move on with my life. This won’t do me or him any good.”

The glare Eileen shoots him in response makes Sam squirm.

“We’re not bringing him back, Sam. I have a question and I need an answer. That’s all. Now, sit.”

Sam sits down and Eileen follows after lightning the necessary candles for the séance. This will end in disaster. Sam is sure of it, but there’s no talking to Eileen. She’ll do it with or without him. All Sam can do is hope staying with her is the right decision even though everything in him tells him to run away. Eileen’s eyes soften and she takes Sam’s hands in hers squeezing them gently, telling him it’ll be alright. Sam takes a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Together they start the séance, invoking Dean’s spirit to join them at the table and answer their questions. Each participant gets to ask one and then the ghost should disappear back to heaven. If done right the ritual should be completely harmless, but Sam is still on edge.

On top of that Eileen refused to tell him what it is she needs to ask Dean so desperately. Whatever it is, it won’t change anything. Dean will still be dead and Sam will just have to mourn him again. Some part of Sam resents Eileen for forcing him into this.

They finish the incantation. The flames flicker and the air grows cold. “Dean?” Sam shakingly asks into the empty room.

“Heya Sammy!”, comes the cheerful voice from his left side. Sam lets out a high pitched sound in surprise and swirls around coming face to face with the grinning ghostly visage of his very dead older brother.

“Cute squeak.” Dean teases and Sam is left gaping, unable to form a word. Before the silence between them becomes too awkward Dean turns around and winks at the other person on the table. 

"Hey Eileen."

"Hi." She replies with a smile.

"Thanks for taking care of the sasquatch. I know he can be a handful.”

“I’ve got it handled.” Eileen chuckles as if they didn’t just summon the ghost of his dead brother. Sam watches the exchange stunned, his mind reeling. Small talk, really?

“Is our little mermaid over here still on his rabbit food?” Dean continues ignorant of Sam’s inner turmoil, signing the last two words as best he remembers.

Eileen nods gravely.

“And there’s so much gas because of it.” 

Dean pulls a disgusted face. “Right?! Let me offer my deepest condolences for the sacrifice of keeping him company despite all of that. It must’ve been torture.”

“Shut up, Jerk!” Sam blurts out and without missing a beat Dean replies with a “Bitch.” And just like that Sam’s heart feels lighter. “It’s good to see you again, Dean.” Sam says, willing his eyes to stay dry. He refuses to give Dean more material to make fun of him in front of his girlfriend. “You too, Sammy.” For a moment it looks like Dean is fighting with his emotions as well, but then he composes himself and continues. “Okay, now that Ariel found her voice again, let’s do this. Séance rules say both of you get to ask a question to the all knowing ghost. So, shoot.”

Sam waits for Eileen to start, but she signs for him to go first. That’s a problem. Sam had put all his money on vainly hoping the ritual wouldn’t work and prepared nothing for this moment. 

“So, eh, how’s heaven?” More smalltalk it is.

Dean leans back into his chair with a sigh. “Busy.”

Sam frowns. “Busy how?” 

“Busy how could we possibly think a three year old would be able to come up with a good plan to restructure heaven. Don’t get me wrong, the kid’s trying his best, but he’s definitely not thinking long term. We’ve been trying to find a way to bust into heaven’s administration office and give the kid some pointers, but no luck for now. Guess my retirement has to wait.”

Dean pauses, giving Sam a moment to gather his thoughts. This is unexpected, but if anyone can raise hell in heaven and give God a good talking to it’s his older brother.

“If you need any help from down here, just ask.” Eileen offers, leaving both Sam and Dean somewhat startled.

“Eh, I don’t know. I’d have to discuss it with the others upstairs and then you’d have to summon me again...”

“Sure. Sounds good. Let’s check up on each other every couple of months or so.”

Sam stares at his girlfriend disbelievingly and turns to Dean.

“Is that even allowed?” 

Dean shrugs, clearly at as much of a loss as Sam is. “It’s probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but if we make sure I return to heaven after every séance, I don’t think it’s against the rules? There’s no retiring and being dead dead for me until heaven’s fixed anyway and unless you have any plans to leave the life behind any time soon, I don’t see why not.” Sam shakes his head. He wasn’t planning on retiring either. At least that’s what he’s trying to tell himself now that Dean asked. He’d talked with Eileen about rebuilding the Men of Letters from the ground up and creating a nation wide hunter network, but after Dean’s death Sam had rarely thought about it. In fact he hadn’t been thinking about anything that he wanted and only considered what Dean would want him to do. He had been certain Dean wanted him to become a civilian and leave everything behind, but now Sam’s not so sure anymore.

“Good, so okay. Unhealthy coping mechanism it is. At least for now. And if it turns bad-” “-we’ll figure it out. Our lives are so weird, man.” Sam chuckles, not having the heart to feel bad about their newest arrangement.   “That’s our lives and deaths to you. Don’t be life-ist, Sam.” Dean retorts, offended.

A comfortable silence settles around them, each getting lost in their own thoughts until Dean breaks it by shuffling awkwardly and looking anywhere but Sam and Eileen. “Of course I wouldn’t need any help breaking into heaven if Cas would just stop running away from me.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Cas is back? Wait why would he run away from you? Dean, what have you done?”

Dean scoffs. “I’ve done nothing. It’s Cas who decided to just assume things.”

Sam feels a headache coming up. Not this again.

“Dean. What. Happened?”

Dean’s form flickers and he turns to Eileen ignoring Sam’s question.

“So what did you want to ask me?”

“Dean, Sam is right you should tell us what happened. If fixing things with Cas can help you…” Eileen tries to reason, but it only agitates Dean further. The table starts to shake as Dean stands up and paces the room. “There’s nothing to fix, okay? Cas said he loves me, died and now I’m being ghosted.” 

Dean lets out a frustrated growl. “How am I supposed to tell him I feel the same if refuses to talk to me?” Dean finishes and slumps down in the chair again.

Sam blinks. He had been too preoccupied with translating Dean’s words for Eileen to register what Dean actually said until Sam saw Eileen’s eyes widen in surprise. Cas is in love with Dean and Dean feels the same? Okay, that’s- that’s huge. Sam knew there always had been something more going on between the two of them, but with everything going on in their lives, he had never really dwelled on it. It does make an awful lot of sense though. Of course Dean would fall in love with the angel and then spend however many years repressing all of it.

“Dean,” Sam starts but before he can find the right words to say, Dean blanches, clearly only now realising what he just confessed to and grows defensive. “Shut up. We’re never talking about this again, capiche?”

Sam has to force himself not to get annoyed by Dean’s unwillingness to talk and settles on what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Okay, whenever you’re ready then.”

Dean ignores him and turns to Eileen putting all his protective walls up again in the process. “So, your question?”

“Right.” She says with a nervous smile and stands up straight gesturing for Dean to do the same. Dean obeys hesitantly, just as confused about the whole thing as Sam is. Sam moves to stand up as well, but gets interrupted by Eileen. “You can stay down, Sam. This is between Dean and I.”

“Eh, okay?” Sam shifts in his seat feeling like a child watching the adults conduct some serious business he knows nothing about. Silence settles in the room as Eileen mentally prepares herself to ask her question. Sam has rarely seen his girlfriend this nervous about anything. It’s worrying and Sam has to tell himself to calm down. Eileen would’ve told him if it was something potentially dangerous and he has no right to be overprotective unless she wants him to. Still, he can’t help but feel a nervous squirming in his stomach.

“Sam has been having a lot of stupid thoughts recently about your wishes for him, so I want to ask you. Officially.”, Eileen finally states solemnly.

“Dean Winchester” 

“Yeah?” Dean arches an eyebrow.

“I want to ask for your brother’s hand in marriage. Will you give us your blessing?”

A beat. Dean blinks, opening his mouth to answer. Sam tries to jump up, but stumbles over his own two feet in his panic and crashes hard over the chair onto the floor.

“Eileen!” Sam sputters out.

Dean looks expressionlessly down at the mess that is Sam Winchester and deadpans.

“Are you sure you wanna marry that?”

“Yes.” Eileen replies with a smile so full of love, Sam doesn’t know what he did to deserve it, her.

“You know you could do so much better, right?”

“No.” She shakes her head resolutely. The “there is no one better” hanging unsaid in the air.

Dean looks at the both of them and if Sam wasn’t too preoccupied with staring at the amazing woman in front of him he would’ve sworn he saw tears forming in Dean's eyes.

“In that case,” Dean walks up to Eileen and places a kiss on her forehead. “You have my blessing. There’s no one else I would rather trust with Sammy. I know you’ll make him happy.”

“Thank you.” Eileen signs and offers her hand to Sam to help him up.

“Let’s get married. And no more drunken talks about Dean not approving, got it?”

Sam takes her offered hand, but instead of getting up he pulls her down into a tight embrace, her small but strong body fitting perfectly into his own. Sam doesn’t deserve her. After Dean died he’s been nothing but an ass to her, wanting to abandon her and the life they’ve been trying to build, because of some misguided duty towards his brother. She’s the best thing that happened to him in a long time and in his grieve he was ready to throw it all away. Eileen had every right to leave him wallowing in his own misery, but she stayed and Sam doesn’t know he’ll ever be able to thank her for that. He tells her as much. “Marrying me would be a good start.” She replies and Sam nods vigorously before kissing her to seal the promise.

Dean clears his throat interrupting the moment. Sam looks up and sees the flickering form of his brother fading in the candle light.

“It’s time for me to go. You better treat her right, or I’ll come down and haunt your ass, you hear me, Sammy?”

“Got it.” Sam nods and lets his tears fall freely.

Throwing the both of them a last grin Dean signs a quick “See you later” and disappears.

Sam closes his eyes and rests his head on Eileen’s shoulder, breathing in her scent. Even if they never manage to conjure Dean again, Sam thinks, for the first time since Dean died, that maybe he will be alright after all.

#spn #supernatual #saileen #destiel #time to sleep

[elizabeethan]

The Days We Defend (Will Turn To Gold)- Chapter 3

Everything is perfect, until it isn’t. Killian and Emma have spent months building a life together after finally defeating Neal and Gold, but when the Dark One dies and his power becomes untethered, everyone in Storybrooke is at risk, and some decisions may have lasting consequences.

Sequel to Walk With Me (I Think We’ll Find A Way)

Prologue, 1, 2

Read on Ao3

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @profdanglaisstuff @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook​

Belle is overwhelmed with responsibilities, both as newfound official owner of the shop, and with settling the Crocodile’s assets. They weren’t even bound together by law, but for whatever reason, she felt compelled to take care of these things.

“I suppose we should bury him,” she says over her coffee mug as she pours over pages of financial documents at Killian and Emma’s dining table.

Killian shrugs. “I suppose that’s a good way to prevent any foul odors,” he agrees, and she gives him a look that tells him he may have said the wrong thing. “And… of course, it’s the respectful thing to do.”

“Of course,” she says through a laugh and rolls her eyes. “I mean, I probably should've taken care of this already. It’s been a week since he passed, I just… it’s been strange.”

“I understand, love. You weren’t together but you still had feelings towards him. And as big a bastard as he was, he did love you.”

She presses her mouth together thoughtfully, nodding as she looks back down at her pages and takes another sip from her mug and he finishes up the dishes from their lunch. It’s perhaps the first time that he’s realized what this means: his enemy is dead. His life’s mission is complete.

He has a feeling that, were this to happen three years ago, he would have felt lost. He’s lived an unnaturally long life with one goal in mind, and with that goal met, he’s unsure what else he may have had to live for. Now, he has everything he needs.

It isn’t long before he hears the bounding steps of his toddler stomping down the stairs, one step at a time, and a nervous Emma behind her reminding her to be cautious.

During the last week, he’s noticed a new trend: Emma is constantly anxious about Corrine’s safety. She’s far more nervous about her being hurt while exploring her environment and learning new skills, and is always helicoptering over the child, hardly taking an eye off of her. It isn’t that he suspects that she distrusts him, but he’s certainly noticed that she almost never leaves their daughter alone, not even with her father.

“Hello my little love,” Killian says as she reaches the landing.

“Hi Captain,” she says, her tiny voice pronouncing her new word without a T.

“Who the blazes is teaching you these terms, my dear?” he asks, picking her up once his hand is dry and placing a kiss on her forehead.

“No know,” she responds with a shrug, although he doubts that to be true. One can only trust a two-year-old as far as one can throw them, especially when that child’s father is Captain Hook, and he’s nearly completely certain that she does know that Prince Charming is trying to mess with him.

“You’re far too smart for your own good, sweetheart.”

“Thank.”

Emma smiles softly as she rounds the corner, placing a hand on their daughter’s back and glancing up at Killian before moving towards the refrigerator.

“What would you like for lunch, smarty pants?” Emma asks Corrine, and she shrugs.

“Cheese,” she tells her mother, smiling a toothy grin at Killian and then poking his nose with her chubby finger.

“A grilled cheese? For Emma Swan’s daughter? Preposterous.”

Emma laughs, barely, and bumps his shoulder with her own, moving throughout the kitchen to get started on cooking as Killian continues to entertain the lass.

“Corrine, did you say hello to Belle?” Killian asks, and she turns in his arms and smiles sweetly.

“Hi.”

“Hello there,” Belle says with a smile, standing and gathering her files. “I actually think I should be going. I’ve got to make the arrangements for the burial.”

“Aye, lass.”

“Would you guys, um, are you planning on coming?”

Emma drops something behind him with a clatter, then lets out a hissed curse. When he turns, he sees her shoving a frying pan to the back of the stove and forcing the burner into the off position, holding her hand in front of her.

“Uh,” he says, placing Corrine down and moving towards Emma. “I’ll let you know,” he tells Belle as she makes her way out the door to leave.

“Momma’s okay?” Corrine asks, toddling over towards her.

“I’m fine,” she mumbles back, looking down and plastering on a fake smile. “Baby, go play in the living room while I make your lunch, okay?”

Corrine runs clumsily towards her small chest, opening it up and exclaiming excitedly when she sees some of her favorite stuffed toys. “Emma,” Killian finally says, moving in front of her and taking her burned hand.

“I’m fine,” she spits out, yanking her hand back and reaching for the pan again, replacing it on the burner and moving towards the refrigerator.

“You’re clearly not.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Did you forget the conversation we had last week? I told you I’m here for you, love. You don’t have to bear—”

“Hook, I’m fine! Just leave it, would you?”

She hadn’t called him that since the curse was broken, but lately it’s been slipping from her lips far more frequently than he prefers. “Don't do that, Swan. Don’t put your walls back up; don’t shut me out.”

“I”m not.”

“You are. You’re scared about what’s going to happen with Regina and you’re trying to protect yourself, but in doing so, you’re closing yourself off from me.” She refuses to look him in the eye as she lets a pat of butter slide into the pan and tilts it so that it melts across the surface. “You’re doing it now.”

“What do you want me to say?” she mumbles as she places a slice of bread in the pan.

He takes her hand once she places a slice of cheese over the bread and covers it with another, pulling her away and forcing her to turn and face him. “You don't have to say anything. Just… I just want you to trust me like I trust you.”

She sighs, wriggling out of his hold and grabbing for a tool that she uses to flip the sandwich over. “Of course I trust you,” she says softly as he hands her Corrine’s plastic plate. She slides the hot sandwich onto it, slices it down the middle, and hands it back to him, turning away once again and taking the pan towards the sink.

He stands there expectantly, foolishly, for a moment before turning and walking towards the table, calling for Corrine as he places the plate in front of her chair. “Come, love,” he calls, and he hears her tumbling towards him. He hoists her into her chair and kisses the top of her head as she starts munching away.

Emma holds her burnt hand out of the running stream of water as she washes the pan vigorously. She isn’t one for cleaning, well, anything, so to see her so passionately doing so is throwing him for a loop.

Rather than trying to talk any more sense into her, he walks up behind her, resting his prosthetic on her hip and taking the pan from her hand to place it down in the sink so that he can hold her. He feels tension leaving her quickly as she settles her back against his chest before turning around and wrapping her arms around his middle, sighing.

He holds her tight, attempting to squeeze the anxiety and fear out of her but knowing it likely isn’t going to work like that. Instead he settles for telling her, “I’m here, love, always. We’ll get through this, I swear it.”

He hopes beyond hope that he’s being truthful to her.

~~~~

Later that night, when Corrine is safely tucked into her crib only after David helped Emma to lower the platform in an attempt to prevent her from escaping, Emma and Killian sit quietly on the loveseat as Henry takes up the entire couch. They had a film on, and although Killian finds them difficult to follow, he guesses that Henry is having a far worse time focusing  based on the way he stares off at the ceiling for almost the entire picture. Eventually, he sits back up, his spine so straight that it looks uncomfortable, and announces, “I don’t wanna see my mom.”

Emma straightens too. “I know that, Henry. I told you I’m not gonna make you do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I know she’s been asking for me.”

Emma squeezes Killian’s hand but won’t turn his way. He sighs and steps in. “Aye, lad, she has. But your mother has been very clear that that won't happen.”

“Hook’s right,” she says. “We aren't letting anything happen to you. You're old enough to make your own decisions about this stuff.”

The lad sighs, relaxing back into the couch a bit before speaking up again. “I feel bad, though. If she’s saying she wants to see me, maybe that would help her to fight the darkness.”

“Well, maybe that’s true, but it’s okay for you to set your own limits. Isn’t that what Dr. Hopper used to say?”

“Yeah. It’s just… why would she do this?” he asks softly, staring down at his hands resting on his knees. “Why would she let herself go back to being dark, after everything that happened when I was a kid?”

“The darkness came to her, Henry. She didn’t really have that much control over it,” Emma says, trailing off weakly at the end of her statement. He knows she’s blaming herself now for the position that Regina is in, and for Henry’s emotional turmoil.

“She’s gonna do something stupid. And dangerous.”

“Henry…”

“Mom, she did some really terrible stuff when she was the Evil Queen, and now she’s gone dark again. How can I trust that she won't try to hurt you like she did last time? Or me or Corrine?”

He feels her tense some more. “Kid, you shouldn’t have to worry about that.”

“But I do! It’s all I can think about!”

“We’re gonna take care of this! I told you that you don’t have to see her and I meant it. Nothing is gonna happen to you,” she tells him urgently, standing from the couch so quickly that Killian starts to tip over.

“But what about you? And everyone else I care about?”

“I’m gonna fix this,” she promises, her voice cracking. She moves towards Henry and pulls him into a tight hug which he returns in kind, the two of them standing still in the middle of the living room and seemingly blocking out the rest of the world.

Killian feels so helpless.

~~~~

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Swan,” he starts, moving towards the bed that she sits on heavily.

“If you tell me everything's gonna be okay, I think I’ll scream.”

He stops in his tracks, sighing as she flops backwards until her back hits the mattress and groans.

“Emma.”

“Hook, I can’t have this fight with you again!” she nearly shouts, thrusting her fingers into her hair.

“Who said we were fighting?”

She rolls over onto her stomach and presses herself up so that she’s sitting on her knees, staring him down with angry eyes. “You're going to tell me that this isn’t my fault and that we’ll get through this,” she says, irritation clear in her voice.

He steps towards the bed, standing closer to her and narrowing his eyes. “Suppose I am. Suppose I mean it.”

“It doesn’t help!” she says. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t just sit around doing nothing while we wait for something to go wrong.”

“Swan, you're not doing nothing.”

“Why do you keep saying that?!”

“Why are you so upset with me?”

“I’m not!”

“Clearly you—” he’s interrupted. Her hands are around his neck and her mouth is on his with a forceful pressure that nearly knocks him off his feet. “Swan,” he tries, but she continues her attack on his lips.

“Stop talking,” she mumbles against him. “I don't want to hear anymore.”

“What do you want?”

She slows her movements of her lips along his only slightly, as if she’s considering his question, and in her pause, he leans them forward so that she falls back onto the mattress with him on top of them. She grunts, biting his lip fiercely in an angry response, and before he can steady himself on top of her, she’s pushing his shoulders and flipping them.

“You,” she growls at him before kissing him again. “I want to fuck you.”

Her words shoot through him as quickly as his blood does, coursing through his body in an icy heat. His hand finds her hip immediately, squeezing before he slaps her ass covered by her tight leggings. “You want it rough, love?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately.

“Well,” he murmurs as her mouth trails down his stubble covered chin and finds the juncture of his neck, sucking what he knows will become a bruise. “I’m happy to oblige.”

He knows what this is. He knows she’s seeking out control where she can and while she has so little of it. He normally takes the reins and revels in his ability to make her fall apart, so tonight, he’ll sit back and enjoy as she flips the script.

She’s quick in her work of undoing the buttons of his top, ripping it open forcefully and fully exposing his chest so that she can slide her lips down the expanse of flesh. She sucks another bruise into the skin just beside his nipple as her hands make quick work of the zip of his trousers. She pulls them down promptly once they’re undone, continuing the wet trail that her mouth leaves down his torso until she’s blowing hot breath against the fabric of his boxers just above his already-hard cock. She slides onto her knees on the floor before him, pulling the garment away, and takes him in her mouth almost immediately, never breaking eye from his. It’s perhaps the longest their eyes have maintained contact all week.

She sucks him expertly, swirling her tongue as her cheeks hollow and taking him down nearly to the base. He groans at her enthusiasm and she hums in response, the back of her throat vibrating against his throbbing tip. “Fuck, Emma,” he says, pulling at her hair lightly and iliciting a moan from her. He nearly loses himself at her response. “Come here, love.”

She hums again to question him, looking up as her tongue trails a thick line up his shaft and she sucks his tip once more. “Where?”

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to finish, and I won’t be able to fuck you.”

Releasing him with a pop, she presses herself up from her knees and begins to slide her leggings and knickers down her shapely legs. “Didn’t you hear what I said?” she asks as she pulls her top above her head and moves back towards him. She’s straddling his hips, his erection trapped between his stomach and her core, and the heat of her against him driving his mad. “I’m fucking you.”

“Bloody hell,” he breathes out as she grasps him and tucks him inside her. She moans, her hands sliding up his chest and taking his hand to place it on her breast still covered by her bra. He moves the fabric away as best he can through the distraction of having her around him, but he must be moving too slowly because she reaches around her back and unhooks it herself. As he squeezes again and runs his thumb along her nipple, she moans, tossing her head back so that her long hair almost tickles the tops of his thighs.

She rides him mercilessly, bouncing and and thrusting hard against him as she takes what she needs from him. He hopes it helps her; he could see her fear all week, her lack of control driving her to a state he hasn’t seen her in in quite some time. Her walls are coming back up, and watching it happen before him and being unable to prevent it hurts more than he knows what to do with.

“Fuck,” Emma says, reaching her hand to rub tight circles along her clit as she continues to squeeze him. “God, yes.”

“That’s it, darling. Take what you need from me,” he chokes out. He’s hardly even coherent, barely holding himself together as he prays for her quick release after the work she has put in on him moments ago. “I’m here, love, take what you need.”

“I need you,” she whimpers. Her voice is high and breathy as she collapses against him, one hand still trapped between them on her clit and the other wrapping around his neck. “I need,” she breathes, following it with nothing.

He chooses now to bend his knees and thrust his hips up into her finally, feeling her squeeze her arm harder around his neck and her core tighter against his cock. He groans into her neck, holding her hips so she can continue to move above him as he meets her with each thrust. “That’s so good, love, you feel so perfect. Such a good job for me, that’s it.”

“Killian,” she chokes out. “I— I lo—”

He thinks for sure that she’ll say it— he would’ve loved to hear it— but instead, she squeezes once more, choking out a cry that tells him she’s cascading off the cliff they worked towards together. As soon as she gives him permission through her own orgasm, he’s spilling himself inside her. She lets out a keening whimper as she comes down, her lips biting and kissing against his neck as she collapses.

He turns his head towards her’s, kissing her forehead and rubbing his bare arm up and down along her back as she comes back down. He hasn’t been with her with her walls this high since Neverland, and he isn’t sure how she’ll react to his attempts to hold her after such animalistic sex, but he chances it.

After he rolls them onto their sides, she holds on tightly to him but won’t move her head from its spot under his chin. He feels her shallow breaths hitting the skin of his collarbone, tickling the hairs gently as he runs his fingers along her spine. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she whispers, and he feels his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

He pulls her impossibly closer to him and responds, “there isn’t anything wrong with you, my love,” and kisses the crown of her head once more.

“I don’t know why I can’t just…” she shrugs.

He thinks— he hopes— he knows what she means. She feels love for him, but can’t say the words and stay for the aftermath. Assuming this is correct, he says, “it’s okay. I love you enough for the both of us.”

He feels her burying her face further into his chest and she tightens her grip on his torso. “I feel it, I do. I just…”

“I know.”

He does know. He only hopes that he doesn’t soon get to a place where that isn’t enough anymore.

~~~~

They meet again at Granny’s in the morning, Ruby and Tink staying with Henry and Corrine despite the lass’s protests. She wants desperately to come with her parents, and her increased clinginess to the both of them worries Killian. He thinks it worries Emma more. Just one more straw that threatens to break the camel’s back that is Emma, he thinks.

Regina can hardly focus. She’s still going back and forth between talking to them as herself and the Dark One, and her quick flip from one personality to another startles them all. Today, she can’t seem to think about anything aside from Henry, and he can feel Emma’s tension from across the diner.

“Regina, we need a real plan.”

“I have a plan! It’s to see my son!”

“We need a plan for getting the darkness out of you. Have you found anything in your books or your vault?”

“Emma, I have to see him,” she pleads. “He’s the only thing that can keep me sane right now. Being the Dark One is so hard… I’m trying so hard not to give in, and he gives me strength to fight it.”

He watches as Emma blinks, sighing and letting her head fall forward at Regina’s words. She’s trying to appeal to Emma’s motherhood, and it isn’t fair. He wants to step in, but they asked to talk privately and he’s trying to respect that.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” Emma says softly. “It’s just not a good idea right now.”

“So Emma Swan finally has something over me and she’s milking it for all it’s worth, is that it?”

“Regina, it isn’t that. You know I want what’s best for Henry.”

“Then why the hell won’t you let him see me? Is it revenge over what happened last year that you want?”

“No!”

“You finally have a say in this and you can’t seem to let go.”

“Regina, Henry doesn’t want to see you,” Emma practically shouts. Killian’s blood runs cold.

“What?” Regina spits, leaning towards Emma threateningly. He stands from his stool at the counter and starts to make his way over to them.

“He’s scared! He spent so much of his life frightened of his mother being the Evil Queen and now he’s scared that you’re going to hurt someone he loves again!”

He places his hand on Emma’s shoulder and feels her tense up in response. Regina stands slowly, leering over Emma and smiling maliciously. “We’ll see.”

“What does that mean…?” Emma asks softly, leaning back against his hand and seemingly taking comfort in his presence.

“Well, Miss Swan, I suppose you’ll see.”

“Regina—”

“Just you wait, Miss Swan. You can’t keep my son from me forever.”

Before Emma can argue, she vanishes.

~~~~

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“A plan. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your little scheme to get what you wanted last year.”

“So the new Dark One needs help from the old Dark One’s son?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Your plan to make everyone forget and keep your family to yourself was perfect, aside from the fact that it may have taken Henry from me. I need your help to make that happen now.”

“How will you do it?”

“Allow me to show you.”

~~~~

~~~~

Thoughts????? :)

Read Chapter 4

#the days we defend #walk with me #sequel #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #once upon a time #once upon a time fanfic #cs ff #cs ff au #ouat ff #ouat ff au #canon divergence #captain swan canon divergence #cs smut #smut #cs angst #angst #days we defend ff

[the-hopeless-haze]

Someone to Know You Too Well (Being Alive Chapter 5)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

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CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of domestic violence & homophobia

It’s easy again between the two of you when you come back from Massachusetts, but it isn’t the same. You’re in a much better mood, and Rafael’s glad you went, especially because you come back with good news about your brother - he should be finishing his GED in the fall.

But just because things are good - it doesn't mean Rafael is calm. On the contrary, that makes him even more nervous. Good things don't have the habit of sticking around.

But for whatever reason, you are.

Spring turns into summer - where did the time go? - and you’re always dragging him to the beach when your schedules permit. You seem to be more in your element there than anywhere else he’s ever seen you, what with the sun causing your skin to glisten with sweat and saltwater, the hot wind blowing your hair, the permanent smile on your face. He learns that your father used to have a summer house in the Cape where you spent your summers until he sold it after the divorce, but your love for the water never faded. And apparently your father’s never did, either, as his new house with his new wife resides on a lake. But the ocean is much more turmoiled than a lake is, and if Rafael were more of a poet, maybe he’d draw some resemblances between you and the ocean, but that’s overwrought. The world didn’t need another hackneyed poem about why his troubled object of affection reminded him of the waves. Clichéd comparisons aside, he can see why you love it so much.

Rafael isn’t as opposed to these dates as one might assume. Maybe it’s his Cuban heritage; in his blood after his ancestors spent so long working and living by the sea on that godforsaken island that betrayed them, but he feels a sort of kinship with the ocean, too. You tease him the first time you see him in shorts and sandals, saying you half-expected him to show up in his three-piece. He didn’t tell you, but he comes to the beach alone quite often, or there’s always yacht parties where he can nurse a glass of scotch, just keeping score between all the married couples there; who cheated on who, what wife wanted nothing more than to divorce her husband, what husband was calling their wife a bitch... Most days, he prefers the precinct for company over the stuffy culture law school brought him into...he swears marriage makes people crazy. It made his mother miserable, his father wrathful.

And maybe one could argue that his mother had an inclination for melancholy or that his father was just a mean-spirited man regardless. But the marriage vows certainly brought out the worst in both of them. An ill-fit, sure, but they’d thought it would work out when they met each other, didn’t they?

Another reason he’s anxious is that the squad is getting closer to figuring it out by the day. Rafael is good at concealing his emotions, he thinks, but it’s difficult to hide anything in a room full of some of the best detectives in New York City. Sometimes he even catches Olivia looking at him differently when he glances discreetly at you - and he’s dreading the day he gets the chewing out he deserves.

And third - you start remembering things he says. It’s almost frightening. Of course.... you had to have a good memory for the spoken word - you couldn’t take notes on everything a witness said. But still.

You remember dishes he orders in restaurants and attempt to recreate them in his kitchen. You bring him coffee, just the way he likes it, on your days off that he’s on, or sometimes you manage to sneak away to bring it to him during your breaks. You know he likes you in red and green and blue, bright, vivid colors that bring out the colors of your eyes and hair, and you make sure to wear them. Sometimes he thinks you’re psychic, or you have some kind of womanly sixth sense; because oftentimes you’ll wear the same color of his tie. One time Carisi even made a comment that the two of you were going to prom together, and you’d swatted him on the arm but smirked at Rafael the way you did; when you knew you had him down cold.

And maybe you did.

But you didn’t know everything about him, yet, how could you? It’d only been four months.

Rafael's hands tremble at the thought of telling you what was on his mind. He needs some liquid courage if he's going to tell you anything. He's had awful conversations with women concerning this topic, and he's prepared for tonight to go wrong, too, you screaming at him with tears running down your cheeks, and then work, oh, work would be a living hell. Maybe he'd transfer to another district. Jesus Christ, he couldn't handle that again, so soon. Maybe it was best to keep quiet. Maybe this is why he shouldn't have been so stupid to date a detective in his district, in a unit he worked closely with. What if this did go wrong? It was hard, being able to see each other outside of work sometimes, and it was hell trying to hide it from the SVU, but god, he'd miss you if you left even if he wasn't entirely ready to commit to you.

But you deserved to know, didn't you?

"Hey, Rafi? You doing alright there?" Your voice cuts in, clear as a bell, the way it always did when he lost himself in thought.

"Yeah, uh, I'm fine," he says, loosening his tie and taking it off. You were cooking again, fish, and it smelled heavenly, and god, he didn't want to lose this but he didn't want to tell you either and by not telling you, he could lose you. Weren't you supposed to know your partner? Did you really know him if you didn't know these things?

"You sure? You look like you're nervous," you say, an edge in your voice. God, did you think... maybe you thought he was going to break up with you. Fuck.

"Yeah. I'm nervous. Okay?" he snaps, but he doesn't mean to. He takes another sip of his scotch.

"Why the hell are you nervous? Afraid of some broccoli?" you joke, but your smile doesn't meet your eyes. He'd scared you. Fuck, he was such an idiot.

"I need to talk to you. Okay?" God, why couldn't he be normal like you and just spit it out?

"Okay. Then talk. But if you want me to leave I'll just get out. I don't need to hear the reasons why," you say, turning back to the food.

"No!" Rafael gets up quickly, hugging you from behind. "No. I don't... that's not what I want to talk about. No. This is going good, better than I thought it would."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Fuck me. I keep talking myself in circles," he mutters under his breath.

You turn around, but he keeps his hands around your waist. You're close, and he pecks your lips. You chuckle. "You're a dork. Just spit it out, Rafi."

"I don't want... I don't want this to turn into a fight."

"I don't either, whatever it is. But I need to turn the fish over or your smoke alarm's gonna go off," you say. “Hang on a minute.”

He grips the counter for support and he hates you so much, it’s rage he’s feeling now, and he has to swallow it down, tell himself this was good for him, this was happening for a reason, and that you were different the men and women that had walked out on him before. Or what about those he’d never felt close enough to tell? That was a longer list.

You finish the fish in a few minutes, tell him the potatoes are going to be a few more in the oven, and you start the broccoli on the stove.

“Okay. Talk to me. I’m listening,” you say, smiling at him, but he can tell you’re still scared, still wondering what he’s going to say.

“I’m bisexual,” he blurts out, and he doesn’t know if it would’ve been better if he beat around the bush.

You’re silent for a few seconds, then you smile at him. “Oh, honey, that was it? I thought it was something bad. Jesus, you scared the hell out of me, Rafi,” you say and hug him tight. He hugs you back, somewhat in awe of your reaction.

“You... you... don't care?"

“Rafael, I'm honestly offended that you think I'd be that prejudiced. Of course it doesn't bother me.” You pull away, still holding onto his arms, looking at him that way you did now, that look that doesn’t feel too different from a punch in the gut. "Why did you think I would be upset?"

Rafael shrugs, still at a loss for words.

“Well... for the record, I’ve hooked up with a woman, you know,” you say, turning back to the broccoli.

“Y-you have?” Well, that was a surprise.

“Yeah. I don’t know if I’d ever date a woman, but... I gave it the college try, had experiences. It was fun. It was a coping mechanism if you think about it too much, but it helped me, I think,” you say, and shrug, turning to your side to better face him as you sauté the broccoli. “I mean...we were friends in college. And she took her time with me, you know...in ways college boys wouldn’t.”

“Mm,” Rafael says, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Bet she did.”

You blush beet red, laughing nervously. “That’s not what I meant... although, yes... she was thorough. But no. I meant she respected me and didn’t get upset when I wasn't ready to put out, you know? She let me set the pace and she was the first person I’d been with that gave me that. But... anyway... enough about that. I really appreciate that you trust me enough to tell me. Do you feel better?” you ask, looking up at him.

He nods. “Believe it or not, you’re the only woman that hasn’t flipped out on me when I said this.”

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. No one should feel that way about that.” You lean up, kissing his cheek.

Yelina was the first woman he told, and she didn’t take it well. Immediately, she flew off the handle, accusing him of wanting to leave her for a man - but there was no man. It was just something he'd come to terms with after fighting with himself for so long, and he wanted her to know because he thought he loved her. But he backtracked for her, he pled with her, they both cried, and their hour-long phone conversation ended with Rafael saying that he was just confused, and wasn't really bisexual. He’d never felt more lost in his entire life than when he hung up the phone that night, and it took him a long time to be assured of his sexuality in the same way as he was before he called her.

Some of the women were better than others, but he hadn’t told all of them and he’d never been met with outright acceptance...until you. And maybe it’s a byproduct of the politics of your generation or your own dalliances in same-sex affairs... but whatever it is... you’re still taking him in with open arms, and he feels like he doesn't deserve that.

“You hungry? It’s all set.”

“Yeah. It smells great, (y/n),” he says, his mouth watering at the potatoes you pull out of his oven. God, who knew how good an apartment could smell when you used it to cook?

He has memories of his abuelita cooking, of his mother, but he never stayed in the room and watched them work. His father always said it was a woman’s job, and it went on the long list of things he could never forgive him for. Watching you cook, he realizes it’s an expression of caring and that his father had ignored the league of male chefs there were in the world in support of a chauvinist ideology. Rafael wishes he could cook more than his embarrassing repertoire of eggs, grilled cheese, and boxed macaroni; he wishes he could do something for you.

He swallows it down. This was too much too soon, wasn’t it? What was he doing?

He doesn't have any idea. A relationship should tie you down to the earth, make you remember you inhabit it, but he's been in his head far too much lately. So dinner is quiet, almost painfully so, because he can't stop the thoughts racing through his head and manage to make conversation with you.

Evidently, you realize that too, kissing him deeply after you both cleaned up the kitchen. "Are you okay, honey? You still seem stressed."

"I'm fine." God, you calling him “honey” went right through him. No one really ever used pet names on him before, probably because he was too stiff. How did you know the simple use of that melted him to the core, made him momentarily forget his reservations?

"You certainly don't seem fine. Did something happen at work?"

"Just stop," he murmurs, avoiding your gaze. Why did you care? Why should you care? You were starting to get too close for comfort - but god forbid you start pulling away.

But you do, physically, at least. You let go of his hand, and hurt flashes through your eyes. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No. But I don't want to talk, either."

"Rafael--"

"Don't."

"Okay," you nod, pursing your lips, and you take his hand back in yours. "Do you want me to just sit with you?"

He nods wordlessly, topping off your scotch glasses and meeting you on the couch. You don't touch him at first, but then you take his right hand back in both of yours, massaging through the cramps in his palm from writing scrawled notes on his legal pad. "You don't have to," he says quietly.

"I want to," you respond, pressing your lips to his cheek. "Let me take care of you. Turn around so I can massage your shoulders."

"(Y/n)..." he protests, but he has a feeling you know what he needs better than he does, so he doesn't argue with your firm glance.

You're tentative at first, but you find a rhythm, and he feels the tension dissipate as you work your hands across his shoulders and upper back, and all he can think is that he never did one thing in his life that would warrant this tenderness.

And then.... you run your hand across his side, featherlight, until he's chuckling in spite of himself. "Jesus, (y/n), stop it," he says through laughter as you tickle him with more intensity, your fingers skittering across his stomach.

"I think you should make me," you challenge.

And he's breathless, trying to catch your hands in his own, but he can't stop laughing, either, as he tries and fails to gain leverage against you. You dodge him every chance you get, but at this point, you can't tickle him as much you jab at his sides and stomach. Eventually, his fingers dig deep into the flesh of your waist, and you let out a shriek - and it's then that he enacts his revenge, his long fingers dancing across your thighs and up your stomach until he looks up at you. You're giggling and blushing, your hair splayed out across his couch... and you look back, your laughter slowing as he leans down to kiss you. All he intended was to brush his lips against yours, but your hand comes to the nape of his neck, and your tongue slips past his lips, and you're seemingly still intent on leaving him gasping for air. "Trying to kill me?" he pants, smirking against your lips as he pulls away.

"No. I just know you needed the laugh," you say. "I know you said you don't want to talk, Rafi, but I... I think you should. I want to listen."

Rafael sighs heavily, gently moving off you and helping you sit back up. "I lied to you,” he says softly, not meeting your eyes. “I lied. SVU is difficult at times... for more personal reasons. I didn't go through anything like what you had gone through and believe me... I'm not trying to draw comparisons. But..."

“It was your father, wasn’t it?” you ask softly.

Ah. You know. You read him like a book. He nods. “Yes. He wasn’t a good man.”

“I didn’t... I just, you rarely talk about him, and I just assumed there was a reason why.”

“There was.”

“Do you want to talk about it?"

Rafael nods, finding the strength to meet your eyes again. “He... he would hurt my mother. I didn’t face the brunt of the abuse, she did, for me. But he... if I... he’d hurt me, sometimes, too, hit me if I talked back. He’d never hurt me the way he hurt Mami, but he was abusive toward me as well. I spent a lot of time at my abuelita’s apartment because of this, and she is...she’s the best woman I know. She did all she could to keep me safe. Ultimately, though, in high school... I came out to my mother and her. They didn’t understand it, really, and gave me some good old Catholic shaming. I still loved them, even if it was hard at the time. They didn’t dare out me to my father. They didn’t know what he would do. Well... I had a boyfriend that last year of high school, and my father saw us... and... you can guess what happened.”

“I’m so sorry, Rafi,” you whisper, scooting closer to him.

“I had to go to the hospital,” he whispers, unable to fight the tears. It feels like something’s closing in on his throat. He takes your hand for support, running his thumb over your fingers. “He somehow managed to break one of my ribs. I... he kept saying, ‘I pay for Catholic school for you to end up being a faggot?’ And I... kept thinking, kept saying, ‘no, Padre, you don’t understand,’ kept begging him to stop. He didn’t until he heard my rib crack and... I think he understood, then, that he’d crossed a boundary. It was one thing to him to hurt his wife, he hated women, but his child, his only son? I never told my mother what happened, because it would’ve just worried her and I was terrified. I just... I just said someone at school beat me up. My father... he was never good to me or my mother, let that be clear, but after that, it was almost like he was ashamed, I guess, because I had something over his head that he knew my mother would leave him for. Anyway... he died about 15 years ago.”

You tuck your legs underneath you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you say softly, kissing his cheek. “No one should have to go through that. Your mother is a strong woman, you know that right? Didn’t you tell me she runs a charter school now?”

“Yes. She does. Single-handedly, really. I owed it to her to make something of myself.”

“You did, Rafi, you did. I know she’s proud.”

“I hope so,” he mutters.

“You’re a better man than your father,” you murmur, rubbing his back. How did you know that was what he needed to hear? Even still, it didn’t feel real. What basis did you have for that?

“The jury is out on that one,” he mutters. “I haven’t had a child to destroy.”

You pull away from him, sit back on your side of the couch. “Rafael. Look at me.”

He exhales slowly, and does, meeting your concerned eyes, the ones all the victims that have come through your precinct have seen, and he hates that.

“Did it hold you back? Is that why you haven’t had children?”

Your voice is small like you almost don’t want to say it, don’t want to put a voice to it, and he wishes you didn’t, he wishes you stayed quiet. He leans back against the couch, a few silent tears leaving his eyes of their own volition.

But you knew him. You knew why. You’d hit the nail on the head once again.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Rafael. Please,” you say, and he looks over at you to see your eyes welling up too. “It’s not my business. I’m sorry. D-don’t be mad at me.”

He doesn’t say anything, just leans over and grasps you in a hug. You start crying, murmuring your apology over and over again. Your whimpers in his ear could kill him if he let them. You pull away from him with shaky hands on his shoulders, gripping on his suspenders for support. “I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have—“

But he kisses you and he can feel your shock as your body tenses up against him. “Don’t you ever fucking say you’re stupid again,” he murmurs against your mouth. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

“Rafael, I overstepped.” You move your hands back to your lap.

“Maybe you did,” he shrugs, wiping his eyes with his shirtsleeves. “But you were right.”

You’re silent. He can tell you feel guilty; you’re wringing your hands and only looking at him when he’s not looking at you.

“I’m not mad at you,” he says, and you visibly relax, leaning over to hug his waist. “I never realized it... until... this woman I dated, her name was Yelina. She wanted a whole white picket fence deal, lawyer husband, three kids, money. And I... I couldn’t give any of that to her at the time. I didn’t want to get married, I was terrified of having a wife. I didn’t want to have children... I was afraid I’d turn into my father and hurt them the way he hurt me. So she left me for my best friend at the time.”

“Oh, honey. You’ve had bad luck,” you say, your voice slightly muffled against the fabric of his shirt. You rub his back comfortingly. “She wasn’t a smart woman. Couldn’t she see you were in pain?”

“I...guess not. Maybe I didn’t even really know I was then. She wanted kids, marriage, all of that, right away, and we were young, then, younger than you. But she didn’t want to wait for me to work out my issues. I can't really blame her. I still haven’t now, so maybe she was right to leave me. Who she left me for... well, that didn’t exactly work out in her favor. I prosecuted him for child pornography about a year ago.”

“Ah. Perhaps she should have learned about delayed gratification before leaving you.”

Rafael chuckles at that. “Why are you saying that?”

“Look who you turned out to be. She knows she made the wrong choice now.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe neither of us were the right one for her. I’m still my father’s son. I could still turn out...how I feared.”

“I don’t see that in you, Rafael,” you say softly.

“My mother didn’t see it in my father, either,” he says, rubbing his face with his hand. “Part of it is genetic. It has to be.”

“People throw down the deck that they’re dealt and demand a new one all the time,” you tell him. He wraps his arm around you.

“But do they get one?”

“I think so,” you say. “If they fight hard enough and they have the resources. Some of it is luck, no doubt... But you can.”

He feels guilty, because he knows you’re thinking of your brother, who can never outplay the cards he was dealt.

“Well, I guess I never wanted to play the game and risk it," he says bitterly.

“Well, what about now?”

“Who’s going to marry me now, have kids with me? I’m an old man. That ship has sailed,” he says, hating himself and you, a little. Maybe you’d leave now like Yelina did. You were young and pretty, and you could find a man closer to your age that would father your children if that’s what you wanted.

“Do you really believe that?” Your voice is small again, treading lightly. Maybe you were scared for your own future if you stayed with him. Maybe you should be.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he murmurs. He knows what he can’t believe: the fact that you’re still here, still holding onto him like your life depended on it. And you knew him, now, you knew what kept him up at night... and you were still here, acting like he was all you wanted.

“I just want you to know that I’ve been held back, too, Rafael. Abuse does that. I couldn’t have meaningful relationships with anyone for a while, and sex scared me. It still does, sometimes. You’re...you’re one of the few who’s waited this long for me to be ready and not gotten upset. I just want to thank you for that. And that’s how I know you’re not your father because from what you’ve told me, I don’t think he would’ve been as forgiving toward me. You can break the cycle, Rafi. You can if you want to.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me for that. I’m not going to force you into doing something you’re not ready for.”

“Proving my point, Rafael,” you say, squeezing his arm. “Would your father have that same mindset?”

“Well...no. Probably not.”

“Would your father go to law school with the intent of helping the helpless?”

He shakes his head. His father didn’t do anything to help anyone. "That's not why I went to law school, either. I went to get the hell out of that barrio."

"Why'd you choose SVU then? There are much more lucrative paths you could've taken with a law degree. Why is it every time I try to show you that you're a good man you insist on fighting with me?"

"Because I don't deserve to be put up on a pedestal, (y/n). I'm just trying to survive," Rafael says, shrugging. "I'm not some martyr for a cause, or a Christ figure or--"

"I didn't say that you were. But you’re also not your father, Rafael, and I don’t see any danger of you turning into him, either,” you say and he hopes you’re right, he hopes you know him better than he knows himself, and that you see something in him he’s never seen, something all the men and women before you never saw either. “You still have time.”

“Not as much as I used to,” he says, but that’s the thing, isn’t it? Rafael sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Look at the two of you, both damaged, both broken by what the world threw at you, but here you were, together. Were you healing each other or hurting each other? He can’t tell, at the end of the day.

You sit up a little, and he loosens his grip around your shoulders. You kiss him softly, comfortingly.

All his anxiety about this night is gone, but it isn’t replaced with relief like he’d hoped. Instead, there’s this gnawing ache, this need to tell you to leave, that he was bad news and was going to break your heart, that he was over 40 and didn’t know how to love anyone that wasn’t his family. Why couldn’t anything scare you away?

Part of him knows he doesn’t want you to leave despite all this, even if he’s terrified. You must know, too, because you stayed.

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[erin-bo-berin]

Darkest Storms & Brightest Rainbows (Part 3)

MASTERLIST

Part 1

Part 2

Hard Love (unofficial part 4)

The final part of the Cat fic is finally here! Hope I didn’t leave you in too much suspense. I don’t have much to say about this part other than it’s the longest of the three and there’s a nice mix of angst, smut and daddy Spence. Happy reading :)

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (some smut)

Word Count: 5,425

You hadn’t felt this queasy since your pregnancy.

There across the room stood Spencer, Cat’s face in his hands as he kissed her hungrily. His lips moved with hers with a lightning type of electricity between them.

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Spencer?” you croaked.

The two broke away quickly, his hands still on her face and he looked utterly horrified.

Horrified and guilty.

Cat untangled herself from your boyfriend and  walked toward you, not so discreetly wiping the edge of her mouth.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Welcome to the party,” she purred.

“W-What’s going on?” 

Your voice trembled, your gaze flickering back and forth between Spencer and Cat. Between being confused at the current situation, you were freaking out, worried about the whereabouts of Spensa. You desperately hoped she was okay.

It had been nearly a year since you last saw him in the flesh. Now his hair was longer and his face was shadowed with facial hair, more present than it usually was.

“Just to catch you up, sweetheart,” Cat sat next to you on the couch, “Spencie has been alive and well this whole time.”

You had to force yourself not to flinch, both at her close presence and at her words.

“Y/N, I can explain,” Spencer said, his eyes pleading for you to understand.

You couldn’t comprehend anything at the moment.

“Now, now. Don’t steal my story from me,” Cat tsked before turning back to you.

“Anyway, Spencer here thought he was being smart by faking his death. He thought I wouldn’t find him. Obviously he underestimated me. Did I also mention that the entire BAU knew he faked his death and didn’t have the decency to tell you?”

Your brows furrowed, your chest feeling tight. You looked over at Spencer.

“Is that true?”

But Spencer wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at Cat.

“Why are you doing this, Cat?”

“Well I thought it would be nice to have a little reunion. Besides while you and I were having some fun, I had my partner kidnap Y/N here so she could join us.”

“Where even are we?” you asked, peering around the dusty, rundown apartment.

There was a smashed TV in a corner, empty beer cans scattered by a wall and dust bunnies everywhere. It looked like it had been a long time since anyone had inhabited this space.

“Not important,” she brushed the question off, “But I thought us women should stick together, ya know?”

You looked at her blankly.

“Well I wanted to get three of us together to let you know that you could do better than Spencer over here.”

“And why do you say that?” you challenged her.

“Well, one,” she bit her lip, pretending to think, “He’s just like me. We deserve each other. Two, I hate to disillusion you that there’s nothing going on between Spencer and I. I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Three, I’m just looking out for you. You could find someone so much better for you.”

She reached out to push a lock of your hair behind your shoulders and you flinched away from her, anger growing in you.

“So this entire time, you’ve been with her?” you asked Spencer.

“No! No,” he shook his head emphatically, “I was in Moscow until she found me.”

“We’ve been having a great time,” Cat crossed her legs, smirking, “As you’ve seen. Did we even leave bed yesterday, Spencie?”

You pressed your lips together, refusing to let her see that she was getting to you.

“You kidnapped her just to make a point that I could do better, with you?” 

“Not exactly. I also wanted to tell her just the kind of guy she’s dating. Oh, I’m sorry, thought she was dating.”

Her eyes were locked on Spencer’s, the challenge like flames of a fire in them.

“Did you know, that right before you woke up he told me that you’re not me?” Cat said, turning back to you, “That a part of him still thought about me all the time. I asked him to prove it.”

She made a face, a mock grimace, “Well you saw that part.”

Spencer now stood near you. She got up and squatted in front of you.

“I have to admit the sex is great,” she said nonchalantly, “But I’m sure you knew that. With the baby and all.”

You felt the blood freeze in your veins. How she knew about Spensa, you had no idea. Your fear for her spiked even more. If Cat even as much as touched a hair on your little girl’s head, you wouldn’t hesitate clawing her eyes out and ripping every hair from her head. The mama bear part of you was intense, just as intense as your love for your daughter.

“Baby?” Spencer looked confused, glancing between the two of you.

“I forgot, you didn’t know,” Cat laughed dryly, “My bad. Well she was pregnant with your baby. Such a shame that you miscarried and on the day daddy dearest decided to…”opt out” of being a father. Guess the excitement was just too much, huh?”

The look on Cat’s face was of a cruel pleasure. Spencer looked devastated as he tried to process what she’d just said.

“You...miscarried that day?” he whispered.

You weren’t about to make Cat aware of Spensa’s existence, so you made the lightning quick decision about what you had to do.

“Yeah. I did.”

•

“Emily!”

Penelope ran into the bullpen, concern written all over her face.

“What is it, Garcia?” Emily asked, instantly picking up on her frantic mood.

“I just got a call from your associates in Moscow that was keeping an eye on Reid. He’s gone missing.”

“You think Cat found him?”

“I don’t know, but it gets worse. JJ went to pick up Spensa to take her for a few hours like she’d promised Y/N, but she found Y/N gone and Spensa in her crib screaming.”

“She could have both of them.” Emily’s eyes widened, horrified.

“I’ll get the team!” Penelope was already running to locate all of them.

Cat Adams was going to be caught for good this time if they had to shoot her themselves.

•

“Just let her go Cat,” Spencer pleaded, “I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything?”

A wicked grin crossed her face as she sat in an overstuffed chair across from the couch.

“You could always kiss me again. You know just to make sure she gets the picture.”

You had yet to face Spencer completely. Your turmoil was rolling inside you, too many emotions competing to be felt at once. You were angry that no one told you about Spencer and you’d spent a year mourning what you thought was his death. You were hurt, Cat’s words and Spencer’s actions still playing in your mind. You were scared, sad, confused, jealous, overwhelmed; it was like a bad combination of every emotion imaginable creating one big miserable cocktail.

“Y/N could just get up and leave,” Spencer argued.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that if I were her.”

The click of her gun got your attention, she had it pointed in your direction. She knew you had enough sense not to test her; she would pull that trigger if necessary.

“You think you’re so clever,” you sneered.

“Oh I don’t just think it sweetheart, I know it.”

“You account for every possible outcome and plan accordingly don’t you?”

“Wow, you sound just like Spencer,” she glanced over at him, “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“You obviously didn’t plan well enough,” you goaded.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Spencer said.

He was on the couch, a good distance from you. He’d been there, head in his hands for a while before he’d started negotiating with her for your safety. 

You ignored him and played the one card you knew you had.

“Can you actually trust your partner, Cat?”

“That’s irrelevant,” she deadpanned.

“Well I’d think it over if I were you.”

You sat back with a smirk of satisfaction because of the knowledge you had. Earlier hadn’t been the first time you had gained consciousness.

•

You’d waken in the backseat of a moving car. Your hands and legs were bound with zip ties. In the driver’s seat was a dark haired girl with a pixie cut.

“Hey!” you hollered, “What’s going on? Why are you doing this?!”

You thrashed and hit the back of her seat when she ignored you and turned the volume of the radio up.

“Shut up!” your captor hollered over the music.

You decided to be on your best behavior.

For now.

Spensa had been left in her crib asleep when this mysterious woman had kidnapped you. Tears slid down your face as you thought of her. All you wanted is to be home with her in your arms. You prayed she was safe and that someone would find her soon.

You waited until the radio became nothing but static, the channel lost, before you made your next move.

“You’re working for Cat Adams aren’t you?”

“I don’t have to tell you nothin’.”

The woman lit a cigarette while she drove, taking a long inhale of it. You watched her exhale the smoke then asked your next question.

“What’s your end of the deal?”

“Don’t know what you’re yapping about.”

“Come on. You don’t give a shit about me. What’s she promising you?”

She ignored you and continued to drive. You pleaded with her, you were desperate.

“Please, I have a daughter. She’s only 5 months old. Did she tell you that?”

“Shut up.”

“How do you even know Cat?”

You fell to the floor of the backseat as the car swerved suddenly and the tires squealed. You felt the car come to a stop.

The driver’s side door opened and closed. Then the back door was yanked open. You were grabbed by the back of your shirt and pulled upwards.

The pixie-cut woman jabbed her gun in your face.

“What’s to say I won’t shoot you right now?”

“Cause it’s not worth going to prison for killing a person you give zero fucks about,” you stated.

You might’ve been terrified, but your voice came out clear and even. She stared you down for a long moment until she spoke again.

“I don’t know her that well. She just came to me saying she needed a job done.”

“Did you get any payment?” you questioned.

“She promised ten grand.”

“Did you get the money?”

“She said I had to get the job done, then I’d see the money.”

“You know you’re probably never going to see that money. Either she’ll kill you or she’ll disappear without paying her dues.”

For the first time, you see her hesitate.

“What if she turns on you? She could lead the police, feds, the whole works right your way. She could blame it all on you. I’ve dealt with Cat before. She’s a dangerous woman.”

You knew you were probably grasping at straws by now, but you had no other choice. You had to do something.

“How do I know you’re not just bullshitting me?” The gun came closer to your face again.

“All I want to do is get back to my daughter. She already lost her father, I don’t want to make her an orphan.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do anyway?” she laughed cruelly, “It’s not exactly like I can walk in and say “hey I kidnapped this woman” you know.”

“Make an anonymous call. They won’t have to know your name. Just tell them where Cat is, where you’re taking me, something. You can call from a pay phone, they won’t be able to trace it back to you. No one will ever know you were involved in this.”

You can see her resolve wavering, the gun lowering just a bit. You tried not to get your hopes up.

“You can walk away from this,” you said evenly.

For a moment you think she’s actually going to let you go as leans forward to you, but she doesn’t. Instead, she swings her arm back, the gun coming in contact with your forehead.

You fall backwards in the seat, your head now pounding doubly as hard. 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, bitch.”

The car door slamming shut was the last thing you heard before you blacked out again.

But you hadn’t missed the look of panic in her eyes.

The next time you’d woke up, you were in the jaws of the psychopath.

•

“Your partner decided not to play by your rules anymore, Cat.”

Your voice was calm, but your nerves were frazzled. You were sick of dealing with Catherine Adams.

“I doubt that,” she smiled, “I have her loyalty.”

“Just because you’re a bitch doesn’t mean you get what you want, Cat.”

“Y/N,” Spencer warned.

“No, no. I’d love to hear what she has to say,” Cat leaned forward, interested.

“You literally had me kidnapped just to tell me that I’m not good enough for Spencer, that he should be yours which is ridiculous cause I doubt you have any feelings, much less love.”

“Love?” she snorted, “Please. I’m not delusional, besides love bores me. Do you think he’s capable of love?”

Spencer looked at her. You looked at him. He looked even worse than he had five minutes ago, if that was even possible. There was just something about Cat that drained him.

“If he was capable of love, he would’ve never put you in danger. Only reason you’re here at all is because of him.”

“If you’re this pleasant now, I’d hate to see what you’re like when someone double crosses you. Like say, your partner.” You ground your teeth in attempt to keep your cool.

“This isn’t her first rodeo, sweetie,” Cat looked over at Spencer, “You’ve got a fiesty one here.”

The glint in her eyes was a tell that she was enjoying this challenge. If it was a fight she wanted, a fight she was gonna get.

You stood up and walked toward her. Her eyes never left you as you approached her.

“I know for a fact that she’s gonna give up every bit of information she has on you and your plan.”

“She wouldn’t be an idiot. It would incriminate herself.”

“Not if she had something to,” you paused, shrugging nonchalantly, “Enlighten her.”

You had no idea if her partner had really contacted authorities and you hoped against hope that she had, but you weren’t about to show your doubts. With Cat it was all or nothing and if this would get you and Spencer out alive, this is what you would do.

“Huh. I like her, Spencie.”

“Cat, the gig is up. By now the BAU would have been alerted about my disappearance, Y/N’s too.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Cat said, sitting back as if she had all the time in the world.

“Did you know that Spencer is the only man to actually peak my interest? I’ve spent my whole adult life studying men and their lies, yet he intrigues me.”

“Obsessed is more like it,” you huffed.

“We have a...connection, you might say. By the way are you this bitter and bitchy because you lost his baby or is that just a personality trait of yours?”

She was goading you, you knew it. Even though she didn’t know about Spensa, it still felt like she was insulting her entire existence. 

You’d noticed she’d completely taken her attention away from the gun, which was resting on the arm of the chair. 

All the anger, all the resentment you had felt the day you thought Spencer died was bubbling to the surface. All the hurt you’d felt, the loss you’d experienced, the frustration, the pain that she caused made you snap. You’d had more than enough. You lunged for the gun just as fast as she did.

“Y/N, no!” Spencer yelled, jumping to his feet behind you.

Both of your hands were on the gun as you wrestled for it. It went off, a stray bullet going into the ceiling but even the gunshot was drowned out by the sound of the door caving in.

“FBI!”

Your hands dropped from the gun and you fell backwards onto the floor with a grunt. In your line of vision you saw Rossi, Emily and JJ rushing in, their guns on Cat.

With her two hostages too far out of reach and three guns pointed against her in comparison to the lone gun she had, the odds were not in her favor. You breathed a sigh of relief when the cuffs snapped closed around her wrists.

“Hey Spencie,” she smirked in his direction, “I may be going to prison, but that’s not going to ruin my mood. Wanna know why?”

“Why?” he bit out.

“Because you two are over.”

His jaw clenched, mouth pursed. The look of misery was written all over his face.

With one last knowing grin before she was escorted out, Cat’s last words were thrown in Spencer’s direction.

“I win.”

•

The tears started to fall the moment you exited the dirty, musty apartment. It was like you couldn’t stop crying.

You were sitting in the back of one of the FBI’s SUVs, tears still streaming down your face as you stared into space. Spencer was sitting in the backseat with you, on the opposite side and you could feel his eyes on you.

You were less than a foot away from each other yet you couldn’t feel more distant. You were relieved that he was alive, of course, but so much had transpired in the last hour that you weren’t sure what to feel anymore.

“You know, crying can actually be good for you. It can cause the release of oxytocin and endorphins, chemicals that can make us feel better,” he said gently.

“Spencer,” you sighed, feeling worn.

“Sorry.”

You didn’t mean to make him feel bad, but all you could feel were the torn shreds of your relationship at the moment, as if Cat’s words and actions had reduced it to nothing.

“Did you really sleep with her?” you whispered.

“No,” he answered firmly.

The kiss hung in the air between you two, though. Even knowing it was just Cat, stung.

“That kiss though.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “You can’t fake things like that.”

You looked out the window, rain beginning to fall from the grayed sky. It was fitting for your mood.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” his tone was dejected, “Please don’t be mad.”

You shook your head.

“I’m not mad. It’s just...a lot to take in.”

He nodded, staying silent. There was nothing but the soft sound of rain hitting the window for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“Did you really have a miscarriage?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“No. I carried her to term.”

You looked over at him, his face changing when your words finally sunk in.

“I have a daughter?”

A small smile crossed your lips.

“I named her Spensa. Spensa Rose Reid.”

“You named her after me?”

You nodded.

“Can I meet her?” he asked, hesitantly.

“Of course.”

A smile peeked at the corners of his mouth. You glanced down at his hand that was resting on the middle seat. You reached out, touching your fingertips to his.

Maybe things would be okay after all.

•

After long hours of briefing, medical check ups and paperwork for Spencer, you both were finally back at the apartment. You hadn’t really had the chance to talk much to each other after the ride back to the BAU, much less see each other.

You were extremely grateful when JJ and Will had offered to take Spensa for the night and the next day, to give you both a chance to settle back in at home. 

In a way, it was awkward being in the same space as him again, especially after all that had happened. It had been your space, then yours and Spensa’s for so long that you weren’t used to having him around.

“You know we’re gonna have to talk about this at some point,” Spencer pointed out gently as he sat down on his side of the bed.

The sight took your breath away for a moment. It had never occurred to you that you’d have the opportunity to see him on his side of the bed, ever again, but here he was.

You just weren’t ready for that conversation at the moment.

“I promised you I’d show you pictures of Spensa,” you said, getting your phone off the charger.

He didn’t say anything about your shift of the subject. 

You sat down on the bed, pulling up pictures of your and Spencer’s daughter. You handed him your phone.

“Those are pictures from when she was born.”

He was speechless as he stared at the pictures, scrolling through them.

“She’s beautiful,” he breathed, in awe.

“She is,” she smiled.

“She’s so tiny.”

“Definitely not tiny anymore,” you chuckled.

“What’s this?”

You scoot closer, peering at your phone screen.

“Oh that’s a mini photoshoot I did in different onesies that the team bought her. They were so big on her then.”

Spencer kept looking through the pictures, watching her grow up via photos and videos, desperately trying to soak up all the moments he’d missed out on.

You weren’t quite sure of when it happened, but you’d settled next to him, your shoulder touching his. He was quietly scrolling through pictures when you spoke.

“I thought you were gone forever,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

He looked up at you, the pictures forgotten for the time being. You guessed there was no better time to talk about this than the present.

“I know. I knew the risks I had to take when I decided to fake my death.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me? Especially the team. They saw me all the time, how bad things got, how depressed I was and they never said a thing.”

“I told them not to, Y/N,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, I got that. But it still wasn’t fair to me.”

He sighed, placing the phone on the nightstand before turning back to you. He contemplated his next words before he spoke.

“I knew it wouldn’t be. It was a lose lose situation. I would be away from you and you would be hurting, but I wanted to protect you. I needed to keep you safe,” he rubbed his jaw, agitated, “Although a lot of good that did considering what happened.”

“Spencer, you can’t blame yourself for things that Cat did. She’s the one that did this, not you.”

“I know, but she tricked me too. As much as I tried to outsmart her, she seemed to be one step ahead of me. She told me if I came with her, she wouldn’t hurt you, so I did.”

“But she kidnapped me anyway, just to mess with you.”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“Was it true? What she said you told her? That there’s a part of you attracted to her or fascinated with her, or something?”

“Truthfully, yes,” his tongue glided over his lips, stalling his continuation.

“That kiss you saw...part of it was just giving into what I knew she wanted from me because I knew she would hurt you if motivated enough. Part of it was all the frustration and hurt and anger she’s caused me. It just kinda came all out, in that kiss.”

“Yeah, it was...something,” you chuckled slightly.

“I’m sure I could do better with you.”

You grinned marginally.

“What about your wound? You actually got shot, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said, lifting his shirt to show the now faded scar from surgery, “That part is true. I had to have surgery and it was touch and go there for a while. Hotch decided then I was to fake my death until Cat was caught and I agreed once I had woken from surgery.”

You turned the information over in your mind. You wanted to be mad at him, mad at the team, but you knew that wouldn’t be fair to them. They had a job to do, Spencer had tried to do his best in a bad situation. You were still hurt, but you weren’t angry.

“I understand you did what you had to do. Faking your death, Cat and all. I can’t be upset with you just for trying to keep me safe.”

Another silence fell, but a more comfortable one now that you’d cleared the air. 

You slid down on the bed, making yourself more comfortable against your pillow, assuming he was going to return to looking at pictures.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you looked up at him.

“You know that no matter what convoluted thing Cat and I shared that she doesn’t hold a candle to you, right?”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I hurt you, I can tell. I don’t want her to win. I don’t want her to break us up.”

“She won’t. I wouldn’t dare let her have the satisfaction,” you said.

“I don’t love her, I love you,” his fingers traced your cheek.

“And I love you,” you whispered.

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours. It had been so long since you last felt his touch that it was like the first time all over again. Your hand slid across his jaw to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. 

He slid down the bed with you, moving over you as his lips moved against yours. It was as if the two of you were rediscovering each over anew. Just the way he kissed you made you feel like the most loved person in the world.

His hands slid under your shirt, resting on your stomach and pushed up your shirt, breaking the kiss only to pull the shirt over your head. He looked down at you, pursing his lips in contemplation as his eyes drank you up.

“What?” you whispered.

“Nothing. I just love you, is all.”

You smiled, pulling his face back to yours. You lay there a while, just simply kissing each other, the kisses varying in length and pressure. From slow and sweet kisses to longer and more heated kisses, you both were making up for lost time.

Between kisses more items of clothing hit the floor until you were both left completely skin to skin attempting to get as close to one another as you could.

His lips grazed your collarbones, a hand sliding up your side before his gaze returned to yours, eyes locked with yours as he entered you.

Your soft moan mingled with his own. It had been so long since you’d been in each other’s arms that the sensation was a blissful relief. 

Your chest was flush with his and you felt his skin glide against yours as his whole body moved with his thrusts. Your hands ran over his back, pulling him closer to you.

His lips pressed against yours, a deep groan rumbling in his throat. He broke the kiss, his mouth hovering close over yours as he moved within you. He was so close you could feel his breath across your face, his breathing becoming erratic.

“Fuck, honey,” he groaned and your stomach churned in desire at the sentiment.

He dropped his head into the crook of your neck and your hand gripped the back of his hair, your hips beginning to have a mind of their own, working for that sweet release. The bed shook from your passion as your bodies moved together quickly.

You were incapable of words, repeated moans escaping your lips. His lips kissed your neck, nipping just hard enough to add to your pleasure.

“Spence, Spencer,” you whimpered, your toes beginning to curl.

Your fingers twisted in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt in your ear. You had to smirk to yourself, you still knew what drove him wild.

His grip on your hips tightened, moving them to a different position resulting in your feeling of him deeper inside you. You couldn’t even care about being embarrassed at the loud moan he elicited from you.

Spencer’s hand came up to caress your head then landed on the bed sheet next to your face, gripping the sheet in his grasp. His grunts and groans of your name rang in your ears as the pressure in your stomach built.

Inadvertently your legs pulled him nearer as if he couldn’t get any closer to you than he already was. You could feel his own muscles tense, your knowledge of his body and his tells coming back to you as if it had never been such a lengthy period.

Your teeth scrape against your bottom lip, his fingertips finding your clit, knowing exactly when and how to bring you to careening over the edge. You do just that, your nails scraping down his back with a vengeance. The long break from intimacy has made this high even better than you remembered, his name falling from your lips repeatedly.

You faintly register his growl of your name as he comes apart, his jaw slackened with his groans, eyes closed blissfully. Your hand is still tangled in his hair and you slide it down the side of his neck as you watch him recover. 

He’s breathing hard, as are you and his forehead rests against yours for a moment before he pulls away, looking at you lovingly. He leans down to kiss you softly and briefly, breaking away to push a strand of your hair that had fallen in your eyes, aside.

“I love you,” you whispered, captured by his gaze, smiling at his return of your sentiment.

“Welcome home to me.”

•

You were still naked when you heard the doorbell ring the next morning. That was what in fact woke the two of you.

“Shit,” you jumped out of bed, grabbing your clothes, “That’s probably JJ.”

He tossed you one of his shirts as you pulled on a pair of lacy underwear that you managed to find on the floor. Whether it was the correct pair or not didn’t matter, at least it was clothes. You pulled on the shirt afterwards.

“Go ahead and get dressed, I’ll go get the door.”

You rushed towards the front door before the bell could ring a third time. Opening it, you found JJ holding Spensa’s carrier, diaper bag and then a smirk. Her eyes roamed over your attire.

“Fun night?”

“Okay, not in front of the child,” you chuckled, taking her carrier and bag from her, “Thank you so much for watching her.”

“It’s no problem, really. It’s nice to have another girl around the house sometimes.”

You smiled, unbuckling Spensa from her carrier. She was already beginning to get fussy. She loved to be on the go and hated to be restrained.

“Do you want to come in?”

“No, it’s okay. I gotta run, besides I figured you’d like some family time,” she smiled, “She’s gonna love him, by the way.”

“She better, she’s too much like him.”

JJ laughed and gave Spensa a kiss on the head, telling you and her goodbye then left, leaving you and Spensa alone in the living room.

Spensa babbled, sucking on a finger.

“I have someone for you to meet, baby girl.”

More babbling ensued as you walked back to the bedroom. Spencer was still somehow trying to get dressed.

“Have you seen my pants?” he mumbled, before turning around and freezing.

“Spencer, I want you to meet your daughter, Spensa.”

Spensa was already fussing, trying to reach for him. He took her, a smile brightening his face.

“She sure doesn’t seem to be shy.”

“Oh no. She’ll let practically anyone hold her. She loves people,” you said.

“I can’t believe it,” he smiled, looking down at her.

Her fingers were back in her mouth and she was looking around the room contently.

“Look at those little curls,” he chuckled, running a hand over her head and then kissing it, “She’s perfect.”

“That she is,” she smiled, leaning against the dresser, watching the two of them.

“You’re totally going to be a daddy’s girl aren’t you?”

As if she had understood what he said, she yawned, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I love you so much, my little Spensa. I’m never leaving you or your mommy ever again.”

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[flipomatic]

A New World Chapter 17: Goals (1/2)

Author Note: Hi, I’m still alive. I spent some time going for podium in D4DJ and things irl have been blowing up lately. I’m still dedicated to finishing this fic. This chapter has been split into two chapters. Thank you for your patience and continued support!

Please listen to the first two minutes of Kiseki at the right time during Rinko’s section. You’ll know when. (link if you need it https://youtu.be/BXsp6qALjr4)

Summary: The members of Roselia ponder what to do next.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

________________________________________________________

Rinko sat at her piano, eyes shut, hands poised in a familiar position over the keys. Her fingers began to move, pressing the keys softly the same way they had hundreds of times before. The tune of Black Shout drifted through the room.

It washed over her, bringing a much needed sense of calm.

Ever since the meeting earlier, Rinko’s heart had been in turmoil. Well, she’d been worried before then too, but she hoped the band would be able to come to a solution. Instead, she left with a new question and even more to dwell on.

In her mind Rinko could hear the other parts that went with hers, the blend of the band’s oldest song. She could hear how their performance used to sound, how they used to fit together.

Their performance last week had been different. Rinko tried to remember as she played, to imagine the new sound of her bandmates that they presented on stage, but she couldn’t. Their sound had changed so much, she could hardly recall it. Even Yukina’s singing had morphed into something new.

Rinko opened her eyes, hands stilling against the keys.

She had been sent to ponder a specific question, to set a goal for the band. When Rinko suggested that they take a week to think about it, it was because she couldn’t think of anything. That had never been her role.

No, Rinko’s role had always been to create. She wrote songs and created outfits, all parts of how the band presented itself. Though Rinko herself lacked presence, she contributed to the band through her work and her playing.

She supported the band, and in turn she found a place to belong. Over the last three years Roselia had come to feel like home.

It was a home that was always moving, always seeking the next step. Together, they tried to achieve something until they succeeded. Now they weren’t, and they were slowly drifting apart.

That was why Yukina thought they needed a new goal.

It wasn’t going to be enough.

Rinko’s thoughts had been trapped in this cycle, of being unable to come up with the next steps despite being desperate to do so. She’d hoped playing their music would help her think clearly, but it hadn’t worked.

Her view of the band felt more out of focus than ever, unable to even imagine how they now sounded together.

Without thinking, Rinko again began to play. It was a different song, once much slower and quieter than Black Shout before it.

The opening notes of Kiseki rang softly from the heart of the piano.

They didn’t perform this song often; it didn’t quite match their usual image. Regardless, Rinko loved it. She still remembered when Yukina had given her the lyrics for it, more subdued than usual.

She told Rinko it was a, “Thank you for everything,” with an uncharacteristic pink to her cheeks.

The accompanying tune flowed from Rinko’s soul. She matched the words carefully, with a soft melody that she hoped enhanced their meaning.

When she first played the song for the rest of the band, Yukina singing the lyrics along with her piano, they listened in stunned silence.

As the piece ended nobody said a word, but even in the quiet Rinko could feel the emotion in the room. She could feel how close the band had become, represented by the song she and Yukina had created together.

Rinko longed to return to that closeness.

Surely there was something she could do to help, to restore the band to how they used to be. She grimaced as she hit the chorus of the song, pressing her hands harder against the keys.

Perhaps that was the problem.

They had all changed so much, even over just a few months. It was impossible to go back.

The song hit its peak, unrelenting in its pace. Rinko continued to play, with her emotions laid bare through the piano.

As the members changed, Roselia could only go forward. Rinko too had changed and grown, through her playing and her compositions. Instead of growing apart, they needed to grow together.

That was easier said than done.

As the chorus ended, Rinko’s playing slowed to a halt. This was where the others would come in, bringing the whole band into the song. She could hear it in her mind. She wondered how it would sound if they played it now.

She needed to find out. Sitting here at her piano, yearning for the past, wasn’t doing her any favors.

Even if she couldn’t find a goal for the band, there were other things she could do.

Rinko’s hands moved again, deftly across the keys.

The melody that emerged was a new one, something she’d been working on near the start of the semester. If everything worked out, this would be Roselia’s next song.

No, that wasn’t the right way to think about it. Rinko was determined to make this Roselia’s next song. It still needed a lot of work and lyrics to go with it, but she was going to make sure it was a success. This was how she would support the band and bring them back together.

This song would carry them forward.

Rinko needed to spend more time listening to her bandmates from now on, adapting to the changes in their playing. Then she would be able to compose for the new Roselia.

If she tweaked it for her bandmates new sound, for the new sound of the band as a whole, that would help them find their path.

Rinko was sure of it.

____________________________________________________

Ako often found that playing video games provided a good distraction. Whether it be from school work or band troubles, they did the trick. Sayo had once specifically told her that video games provided escapist entertainment. They were playing NFO together at the time. Ako didn’t really understand that concept; she just enjoyed playing them.

As Ako directed her character across a field of burning lava, it was slightly easier to not think about the band meeting they held a couple days ago.

It felt like the only thing she’d done since the meeting was worry about it, so she really needed the break.

For while, it worked. Ako teamed up with a few other players to do some quests. They saved a local village from a volcano by redirecting the lava, then had their celebratory party crashed by the culprit who made the volcano erupt in the first place.

The twist made for a satisfying quest line, with a cool boss fight at the end. Ako would definitely run it with Rinko again, when her friend had time. After, Ako said goodbye to her party members.

As fun as playing had been, when the screen in front of Ako flicked to black nothing had really changed. Her own smudged reflection stared back at her, far more tired looking than she should’ve been after a gaming session.

Without the flashing lights on the screen, her thoughts returned to where they were still stuck, to her friends disappointed faces as they sat around the table at the family restaurant.

Lisa told Ako it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t help but feel that it was. If she’d done a better job, this wouldn’t have happened. The drums were supposed to keep the band together, and she couldn’t do it. Now, it felt like they were on the verge of collapse.

Ako wouldn’t let that happen. She hoped that the new goal they came up with would bring them all back together. She just needed to come up with something good. She wanted to keep playing with her friends, in the band that she loved.

Ako pushed her chair back from the computer, stretching her arms and back as she rose from it. She didn’t like to sit and wallow.

No, it was time for action. Perhaps she would brainstorm best if she moved her body. That would at least alleviate the tension in her back, which still remained even after stretching.

With that thought, Ako pushed in her chair and stepped away from the desk. She started walking across the room, turning to come back as she reached the end of it. One hand rested on her chin as she wracked her brain for any ideas.

It took a few laps before she thought of something.

Ako paused mid step as an idea popped into her mind, perhaps they could work to perform overseas? That would be a huge accomplishment, even bigger than playing in Future World FES. Ako perked up, before sagging her shoulders as she continued to think about it.

No, that wouldn’t work. She sighed as she started walking again. Her bandmates were all too busy with university to leave the country; they would never be able to get that kind of time off. Maybe during summer break, but that was too soon. There just wasn’t enough time.

It would have to be something close by then. Future World FES had always been Yukina’s dream, that the rest of them strived for with her. Ako wondered what Yukina was thinking now, what she thought about how far they’d fallen.

Though they’d accomplished their goal, they’d only grown apart since. They lost sight of what it meant to be Roselia.

Wasn’t it Ako’s job to remind them? Ako’s eyes widened in realization as she again stopped, almost stumbling forward. That was what she said, all those many months ago.

After spending so much time apart and heading down splitting roads, the band clearly needed a reminder. They needed to remember what brought them together, so they could move forward with an even stronger goal.

If Roselia got off track, Ako had committed to bringing back Louder to remind them of their path. It was time to follow through on that promise.

At their next practice, she’d be sure to.

_______________________________________________________

The park was quiet at this time of night. The local kids usually went home before sunset, leaving the swings and slides abandoned.

That suited Lisa well, as she sat on a swing near the edge of the lamppost’s light. She dug her shoe into the dirt, rocking the swing back and forth slightly.

She liked to come here to think, to get away from the bustle of her house and family. It was peaceful and calm, only slightly warm today since the sun had fully set. A few bugs chirped nearby.

The stillness of the night directly contrasted Lisa’s own tumultuous thoughts. She had seen the writing on the wall at their performance, which was only confirmed by the meeting last weekend; she knew the band was going downhill fast.

It was something she feared, something she dreaded. It was the reason she worked so hard to improve her skills, so she could help the band be the best. So that, even if things would never work out between them, she could stay by Yukina’s side.

Despite all of their efforts, or perhaps because of them, everything the band built was crumbling around them. But they weren’t giving up.

Yukina wanted to set a new goal.

Lisa believed in that, believed in her. Still, she was worried.

The problem wasn’t just that they didn’t have a goal. Ever since Future World FES they’d been looking in different directions, and their lack of focus was catching up to them.

Lisa should’ve realized it earlier, when she first heard hints of disunity during rehearsal. How foolish she’d been to just ignore it, to let things get this far. If only she’d realized and taken action, it wouldn’t have become this bad.

Now though, it was too late. They needed to come up with a new plan.

When Lisa thought about what the goal for the band should be, she only thought of Yukina. The woman she’d been following since she was a child, who she was finally able to walk side by side with in Roselia, dominated her mind. Yukina’s dreams had always lit the way for the band and propelled them forward. She was the guiding light that drove the band. Lisa filled more of a supporting role, helping Yukina and her bandmates as best she could.

This year Lisa had broken off to her own path, even more so than her bandmates. She was studying outside the realm of music, but still she longed to stay by Yukina’s side. She couldn’t bear it if the band were to fall apart.

Even though she was supposed to come up with a goal, Lisa was at a loss with what to do next. She suspected Sayo felt the same way, with the way her frown deepened over the course of the meeting.

Lisa knew that coming up with a goal wouldn’t be enough to solve their problems. They had already changed so much in a short period of time. It would take more to bring their sound back together. She sighed, dragging the toe of her shoe through the dirt.

Lisa thought back to Yukina, whose light had been on when she left the house. Yukina had probably already come up with their next goal, the next target for the band to hit. Even at the meeting, her eyes hadn’t wavered.

What could Lisa do to help?

Now she drew a pattern in the dirt, the outline of a rose. There had been so many times when she questioned her place in the band and her contribution to it. She’d learned from those experiences, about her role and what being in Roselia truly meant.

Cookies might be a good place to start. With their busy schedules, it had been a long time since the band had spent any quality time together. They really only met to practice, often without all their members.

Hanging out, even if it was just for long enough to eat cookies, could bring them closer once again. Lisa made a mental note to get some ingredients, so she could bake the finest batch of cookies she’d ever made.

No number of cookies would fix the bands problems of course; Lisa knew that. Getting the band together would only be the beginning. She needed to do more.

They only had a month until summer break, when everyone would be free. That sparked an idea in Lisa’s mind, something that would help for sure.

Lisa rose from the swing, a burst of energy surging through her. Her mouth was set in determination. She was careful not to step on her drawing as she walked away, headed back towards home with a spring in her step.

She needed to look at her calendar and start making some plans.

Next Chapter

#bang dream fanfiction #roselia #imai lisa #shirokane rinko #udagawa ako #bandori fanfic #flip writes #hello i know this chapter took a long time #here it is though please enjoy #and seriously listen to kiseki during that one part

[morningfears]

Rose Tattoo [Chapter Two]

Rating: PG

Summary: Calum moved to New York after high school to gain experience as a tattoo artist. It was his hope to return home and open a shop in Sydney. However, life has a way of interrupting even the best thought out plans and Calum found himself still in New York at age 25 with a son and a job as an artist at a shop owned by one of his best friends. His heart had been broken and he told himself - and his friends - time and time again that the last thing he needed to worry about was finding a girlfriend. However, despite the turmoil in his life, he finds himself drawn to the girl with rose tattoo. | Inspired by this blurb. | This is Stevie’s face claim!

Word Count: 6.7k

SERIES MASTERLIST | CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE

Stevie stared at her laptop, the blinking cursor and blank word document seeming to mock her as she waited for the words swirling around her brain to magically appear on the screen. She knew what she wanted to write - the interview she’d done the day before seemed to lend itself to a certain kind of article and was neatly outlined in her mind - but it was as if her brain couldn’t connect with her fingers. She felt as if she were incapable of moving, that if she tried too hard to type, her head would explode, and it was beginning to make her heart pound and her head ache. She’d been stuck for nearly an hour, her eyes sore as she stared at the bright screen, and finally huffed a frustrated breath as she reached out and closed her laptop.

She wondered, idly, as she glanced around the small coffee shop if it was the noise distracting her or maybe the overcast sky affect her mood but, if she were being honest with herself, she would be forced to acknowledge that it was neither of those things. It was a myriad of feelings outside of her control, a series of chemical imbalances in her brain and life events that blindsided her, and she hated feeling like she was barely treading water when she was once a proficient swimmer. 

It had been a rough few months adjusting to the seemingly never-ending changes that rushed into her life like tornadoes, spinning out of control and leaving her sanity in shambles, and she was struggling to cope with it all. She had always had a safety net, a group of friends and family close by and ready to catch her should she ever fall, so being on her own and on the verge of spiraling in a city over a thousand miles from home only added to the feeling of helplessness she’d been saddled with since Angela’s diagnosis.

It was hard, watching her best friend go from the brightest light in a room to being snuffed out in a matter of months, and she knew that she wasn’t handling it well. But that was no surprise. Stevie had never handled death well. Dealing with mortality, acknowledging that death was inevitable and a force of nature that could not be ignored, was hard for her. Her worst fear had always been losing the ones she loved and having that fear become reality had shaken her to the core.

She wanted, desperately, to feel happy that she was sitting in a cafe in Manhattan, drinking tea and writing for a magazine she’d read all her life. She wanted to enjoy the cold, the real winter that she never got back home in Louisiana, and play in the snow. She wanted to celebrate her success, a job and a life that she only ever dreamed she’d have, and be grateful that she was getting such an experience.

But it all felt hollow. Empty. Wrong.

Any victory celebrated felt like a slap in the face to the best friend she’d lost, to the family she’d left behind, and to the life she’d given up in order to achieve it. She felt guilty for surviving, for thriving, while everyone around her seemed to be crumbling. She knew that it was just something akin to survivor’s guilt and that it would leave her eventually but she could feel herself slipping back into a headspace she hadn’t been since she was a teenager and, for the first time in years, didn’t feel like fighting it. She wanted to wallow in her misery, to grieve and fall apart in peace, but that seemed counterproductive.

Instead of taking time to process her emotions, instead of talking about them or working through them, Stevie shoved them to the back of her mind. She let them fester, locked away in some dark recess that would likely break her some day, as she had always done and put on a happy face as a coworker - the one who’d recommended Calum to her - took the seat across from her.

“How’s the writing coming?” Noah asked as he placed his own coffee onto the table along with his laptop and notebook. “They’ve got you doing a feature, yeah?”

“Mm,” Stevie confirmed with a hum as she reached for her tea. “The interview went well. The band was good, they gave me a lot of good quotes to work with and a good idea for how I want the article to work. I just need to get it from my brain onto the page,” she sighed as she tapped her nails against the hardwood of the table. “My brain is stuck today.”

Noah made a noise of sympathy as he tapped at the keys on his laptop for a moment before he peered over the screen to glance at her. “You should take the rest of the day,” he suggested as he glanced at the time. “The deadline for that is, what, Monday?” When Stevie nodded, Noah followed suit and took a sip of his coffee before he continued. “You’ve done more this week than pretty much anyone else. Give your brain a break. You’ve got your second appointment with Cal today, right?”

At the mention of her impending appointment with Calum, Stevie felt herself perk slightly. She was still nervous about her tattoo, the idea of spending another few hours with a needle repeatedly being stabbed into her skin would likely never truly appeal to her, but she was eager to finish the tattoo and see the final piece. The base that Calum had done had healed and though there were still details and color to be added, she was thrilled with how it looked so far. It felt as if it belonged on her skin, like it had always been a part of her body, and she was glad that she’d taken a step out of her comfort zone and gotten it done. Completing it would also mean a check on the bucket list and the ability to move on to the next task.

Also, somewhere in the back of her mind, Stevie was looking forward to seeing Calum again. He was sweet, a gentle soul and easy to talk to, and she was looking forward to chatting with him again. He had made the appointment fly by and she hoped that the same would be true this time.

“Yeah,” she nodded, finally answering Noah’s question as she glanced over at him. “Thanks for the recommendation. He was really good. He still has some details to add and the color but the tattoo’s beautiful so far. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Good,” Noah nodded with a smile as he gestured to her arm, “can I see? I’ve got an appointment with him next week. I want to add to my leg.” When Stevie shrugged her jacket off her shoulder and rolled up the sleeve of her shirt enough for Noah to see the bold black ink against her skin, his eyes widened and he nodded in appreciation. “That’s bigger than I thought you’d go for a first tattoo but, you’re right. It’s beautiful. He did a great job.”

Stevie hummed her agreement as she reached for her phone to text her boss and ask for the rest of the afternoon off. “He really did. I’m excited to get it finished. He was just really good all around. I was freaking out before, like, almost having a panic attack outside the shop but he was really good about it. And he was really easy to talk to. It was a good experience.”

“He’s a really nice guy,” Noah agreed as he tapped at his keyboard. “I’ve been trying to get an interview with him for ages, though. Ashton agreed but only on the condition we feature them both and Cal is great at dodging my requests. Think you could put in a good word for me today?” Noah requested as he glanced over at Stevie with a grin.

“Yeah, I’ll see if I can remember to hound the poor guy about getting back to you while he’s jamming a needle into my skin,” Stevie nodded as she felt her phone vibrate in her hand. It was confirmation from her boss that she had the rest of the afternoon free and, with a sigh of relief, she grabbed her laptop and shoved it into her bag. “I’m going to go walk my dog before I go in. I’ll see you on Monday, Noah.”

“See you, kid,” he called, taking great pride in the nickname though he was only two years older than her. “Try to get me that interview!”

Without glancing over her shoulder, Stevie flashed her middle finger in Noah's direction - something she knew he wouldn't take offense to - and left the coffee shop to head back to her apartment.

*****

As Stevie crossed town, eager to get back to her apartment and take her dog for a walk before she had to sit still for a few hours, Calum sat on his couch and stared at the cellphone in his hands. He was exhausted, more so than he had been in years, and felt overwhelmed as he realized that his plans for the day had fallen through. He could hear Tāne’s coughing, the same sound that had plagued him for days, and he felt his heart constrict in his chest as he stood to find the cough medicine.

Calum had always considered himself lucky. By all accounts, Tāne had always been a good child. He had never been very fussy. He went to bed on time, was easy to put down, and was a sweet, affectionate, pleasant child. He was easy - as easy as a child could be, anyway - and Calum was grateful. Not much changed when he was sick - Tāne was still a sweet, pleasant child - but he didn’t sleep as much, too sick to get comfortable without the aid of some sort of medication, and Calum’s heart hurt for his son. He was slightly irritable, a little more emotional than usual, and didn’t want to be far from his father as he battled 

Tāne was on the upswing after a rather serious bout of flu and Calum was relieved that the worst of it seemed to be over. He wasn’t quite back to his usual self, not yet, but he didn’t look as miserable as he had and he no longer felt as warm as he had the night Calum had taken him to the emergency room. He was well enough for Calum to be able to report to the shop for the first time in nearly a week - Calum was already dreading the few makeup appointments he would have to reschedule, though he was thankful for Ashton stepping in and taking a few of them to lighten the load - but the babysitter that Calum always used, and trusted to handle Tāne in such a state, was on her way to take an exam and no one else seemed to be able to fill in on such short notice.

He only had one client, Stevie, and he knew that if their initial meeting was anything to go by, she wouldn’t be one to have a meltdown if he had to cancel. However, Calum was itching to get back into the shop - this was the longest he’d been out since Tāne was born - and didn’t want to make Stevie wait any longer for her finished tattoo. He remembered her story vividly, the pain in her eyes and the tremor in her voice as she recalled the loss of her friend, and wanted to help her close that chapter. He knew that it would be at least another three weeks before he could fit her in again and he didn’t want her to have to wait.

As soon as Calum gathered Tāne in his arms and carried him to the living room, his son was clinging to his neck and fighting sleep. Even if Calum was able to find a sitter, he knew that he wouldn’t want to be far from his father when he felt so bad and, honestly, Calum wasn’t fond of that idea, either. So, though he knew Ashton would agree to let Tāne rest in the back room as Calum tattooed Stevie, he grabbed his phone and called to check, just in case.

The moment Ashton was on the other line, Calum could hear the hum of noise from the shop. He knew that things would thin out by the time he and Tāne arrived, there wasn’t a lot on the books for that afternoon, and that the others would gladly help him keep an eye on his son. As he asked, Ashton assured him of as much.

“Of course you should bring him,” he huffed, almost offended that Calum would even bother to ask. “There are still some of his snacks in the back if he gets hungry and Luke should be done by the time you get here. I’m sure he won’t mind sticking around and helping keep an eye on him.”

Calum could hear Luke ask, “Is he bringing Tāne?” in the background and confirmed that he was, indeed, to Ashton. “He’s better but he still doesn’t feel great. I don’t want to be too far from him. You sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m hanging up on you for even asking,” Ashton huffed and Calum smiled at the sentiment despite the slight anxiety he still felt. He knew just how much Ashton, Luke, and Michael loved his son - almost as much as he did - and he knew that Tāne would never be an imposition. Before he could speak, Ashton said, “Bring him a blanket, it’s kind of cold in here today. See you in a few,” and ended the call. 

Calum laughed, his heart easing just a bit, and dropped his phone onto the couch to free his hands. He rubbed Tāne’s back, his fingers gentle against the material of his t-shirt as he listened to his son’s slightly raspy breathing. “You want to go see Uncle Ash?” he asked, his voice quiet as he shifted just enough to see Tāne’s face. “And Uncle Luke?”

Despite not feeling his best, Tāne was never one to pass up an opportunity to see his uncles. He still looked a little worse for the wear with dark circles beneath his eyes and red cheeks, clearly displaying his warm temperature, but he brightened at the prospect of seeing the boys. He didn’t respond verbally, just a small smile and a nod, but that was all the agreement that Calum needed as he returned the gesture.

“Alright,” he hummed before he brushed a stray curl from Tāne’s forehead. “Let’s get dressed and we’ll head to the shop, bub.”

Forty-five minutes later, Calum strolled into the shop with Tāne in his arms and a backpack full of his son’s favorite items - a pale green blanket, a plush penguin (given to him by Uncle Luke), and a copy of Toy Story, ready to be watched on Calum’s laptop - on his back. Calum knew that Tāne would need at least a little bit of distraction, something to occupy his mind and soothe him back to sleep, as he worked and hoped that the things he’d brought were good enough. Almost immediately, Tāne was scooped out of his arms by Ashton with Luke not far behind.

“Get set up for Stevie,” Ashton told him, a small grin at the mention of Stevie (despite Calum’s attempt to redirect him, Ashton still hadn’t given up his attempt to play matchmaker). “Luke and I’ve got our favorite little dude,” he assured him before he turned his full attention to the small boy in his arms. As Ashton took Tāne toward the back, Luke grabbed the bag from Calum’s hands and grinned at him, offering a quick thumbs up, before he followed along.

Calum stood for a moment, gathering himself and savoring the brief respite, before he breathed a deep sigh and set about getting ready for his appointment. He felt a slight bit of his worry ease as he ran through his mental checklist - ink, gloves, paper towels, machine, A&D - and began preparing his station. Having Ashton and Luke, two of the people he trusted more than anyone else, watching Tāne was a welcome relief. It was normal, something that happened more often than not, and gave him a moment to breathe as he listened to Tāne giggle at a story Ashton was telling him.

He hadn’t always been a worrier. He worried whenever Tāne got sick or hurt, just like any parent would, but he’d been the calm one. He never let the worry shake him as he hoped for the best and kept his head on straight. He kissed scrapes and dried eyes and encouraged him to get back up (although he never pushed; sometimes a child just needed to be held and cuddled and Calum was more than willing to provide that). But the impending custody battle had him rattled. He didn’t want to lose his son - not when Tāne meant the world to him - and he felt himself growing anxious over every little wrong move he could possibly make. He worried that he would do something wrong and that he would never see his son again and it hurt more than he cared to admit.

As he imagined losing Tāne, Calum felt his throat tighten and his hands shake. He never imagined his split with El would end in this way, with them bitter and angry at one another, but it did and it hurt that she was only just trying to step into Tāne’s life. Calum didn’t know what her motives were but, knowing her, it was purely out of spite and the last thing he wanted was for his son to grow up in a house where he wasn’t wanted.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay. Sierra and I are - are you okay?”

Calum looked up as Luke returned to the main area of the shop and frowned at the look of concern on his face. He loved his friends and appreciated the concern that they held for him but hated feeling so fragile. He was always the strong one, the one that picked up the pieces for them, and found it difficult to be in the reverse position. He wanted to assure them that he was alright, that he could handle what was being thrown at him, but that was hard to do when he wasn’t sure he could.

Regardless, he nodded at Luke’s question and returned his attention to his workstation. “Yeah,” he nodded, glancing over his shoulder to throw Luke a smile. “Have fun with Sierra. Don’t worry about us. Tāne’s feeling better than he has been and Stevie, the client I have coming in, seems pretty understanding. I feel like she won’t mind if I have to get up and check in on him.”

“You sure?” Luke asked, his frown deepening as he leaned against the counter and watched Calum wipe down his station with disinfectant. “I can stick around for a little while longer. Sierra won’t mind.”

“He’s sure,” Ashton assured Luke as he walked out of the back, wiping his wet hands on a paper towel. “I’m staying. I’ve got to get some drawing done but it’s easier for me to get up and walk to the back than it will be for you,” he rationalized, stopping Calum’s protests before he could start. “You needed to get out of the house, to do something other than be a dad for a few minutes, and I get it. I was just going to draw at home, anyway. I really don’t mind sticking around. Luke, leave. You’ve been a lot of help this week. I’ll see you on Monday,” Ashton said, glancing at Luke as he nodded toward the door.

Luke hesitated for a moment, his phone in his hand and ready to text his girlfriend about their potential changed plans, but Ashton’s look and Calum’s urging convinced him to leave. “If you need me,” he began as he reached for his jacket and began shrugging it on, “just give me a call. I can come back.”

“I appreciate it, Luke,” Calum acknowledged, and he really did. He appreciated everything his friends did for him, the love they had for Tāne, and didn’t know where he would be without them. He watched as Luke waved in their direction and headed for the door with one final glance over his shoulder before he left for the night.

On his way out, Luke held the door open for who he assumed - correctly - was Stevie and gave her a smile before he headed to meet Sierra.

Ashton spotted Stevie first, his grin widening at the sight of the green-haired girl, and he stood to welcome her. “You actually came back,” he teased, his eyes bright as he gestured for her to make her way to the tattoo area. “Calum didn’t scare you off?”

“Mm, not yet,” she confirmed, her own tone playful as she glanced at Calum. “But I can’t promise I’ll be getting anymore tattoos after this one. I don’t know if I’m fully sold on the repetition of tattoos yet.”

“You can hold a conversation right now,” Calum pointed out, a small smile on his lips as he glanced up from where he was setting up the chair for her, “I feel like you might be getting a taste for it.”

Calum watched Stevie for a moment. She looked calmer than she had been the first time, her hands not shaking and her breathing steady, but she still had a hint of nerves present on her face. He could see the stiffness in her shoulders and the way she twisted the rings on her fingers but, as he’d pointed out, she could hold a conversation and had a genuine smile on her lips as she greeted them both. She might not be sold yet but Calum could sense that she was nowhere near as petrified as she had been just two weeks ago.

“I’m finishing up,” Calum informed her as he glanced at the small metal tray filled with items. “I’ll be ready to start in just a few minutes.” He hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether he should tell her what was happening with Tāne upfront or just hope that she wouldn’t mind a few extra breaks. After a moment’s consideration, he decided on the former and added, “I just want to let you know that my son’s here. He hasn’t been feeling to great so he’s in the back. We might take a few more breaks than we did last time, just so I can go check in on him, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Stevie assured him, no hesitation whatsoever as she nodded earnestly. “I can reschedule if you need me to,” she offered, her head titled as she watched him fill a cup with ink. “I’d love to get it finished but I can wait until the timing is better for you,” she said and Calum lifted his head to meet her gaze.

She looked so sincere, so earnest, and it made him happy to know that he’d read her correctly. He was glad that she was as sweet as she’d seemed and that she was his client for the evening, not someone who wouldn’t understand. “No, tonight’s fine,” Calum assured her with a nod. “He’s getting better, he feels better than he has all week, but I still want to keep an eye on him. If we reschedule, it’ll be a few weeks, at the earliest. I’ve had to push back everything for the next week.”

“I really don’t mind. Take care of your family first. I can wait, I promise.”

Ashton watched the pair of them interact, a smile on his lips, and Calum wanted to throw a roll of paper towels at him. This would only fuel his delusion that they would be the perfect pair and Calum really didn’t want to endure another week of teasing from his friends. However, he couldn’t deny the relief and slight admiration he felt for her as she encouraged him to delay something that meant so much to her so that he could take care of his son.

Before he could answer, however, Ashton interjected, “I’m sticking around to help keep an eye on him so it’ll be fine. He’s just going to sleep in the back. Cal’s been itching to tattoo all week. Have a seat, Stevie. Take advantage of that desire and my willingness to devote my time to my favorite kid.”

At that, Stevie glanced at Calum and he nodded his agreement, nodded herself before she shrugged off her jacket and pulled the t-shirt she wore up and over her head. She avoided hitting her elbow this time, narrowly, and grinned in triumph as she placed her things onto the table. “It hurt to bend my arm for, like, three days after hitting my elbow,” she told Calum as she took a seat in the chair and settled in.

“You always that clumsy or was it just the nerves?” he asked as he pulled off his gloves and stood from his seat.

“…I don’t want to talk about it,” Stevie mumbled, her pink cheeks telling him that it was a mixture of both.

Calum grinned, finding the action endearing, and shook his head as he glanced down the hall. “I’m going to go check on Tāne and then we’ll get started.”

In the backroom, Tāne was sound asleep as Toy Story played in the background. Calum was relieved to see him look so peaceful, to get a moment’s rest, and hoped that he would stay like that long enough for him to finish Stevie’s tattoo.

For the first hour and a half, the tattoo went smoothly. Stevie was still somewhat reserved, as if there was something lurking under the surface of her smile, and Calum wanted to question it but thought better of it as he worked. She was pleasant, almost talkative, and he found that he enjoyed her company even more this time than he had the first. As he tattooed her, Calum and Stevie talked, much as they had the first time, about music. He told her about some of the bands he’d loved back home, some of the ones that were well known in Australia but weren’t talked about as much in the States, and was surprised to see her face light up at the mention of Violent Soho.

“I saw them a few years ago,” she told him, a smile on her lips despite the pain she felt as he shaded her tattoo, “it was a badass show. My dad had to go to Sydney for work and my sister and I were out for Christmas so he took us and mom and made it a family trip. We went to Big Day Out and it was one of the best days of my life.”

“Yeah?” Calum asked, a smile on his face as he watched her grin. “How did you like Sydney?”

“It was amazing,” she gushed, grinning as she tried not to use her hands - something Calum noticed was hard for her when she got excited. “I loved it. Except it was hot as fuck in January and even though I’m from Louisiana, it was weird seeing everyone in bathing suits and flip flops so close to New Year’s. But I got to see a ton of cool bands. Australia’s music scene is seriously underrated.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he laughed as dabbed at the ink on her skin. When she gave him a quizzical look, he raised an eyebrow. “You write for a music magazine,” he elaborated, “I expect you to have better taste than most.”

“Don’t judge us all by that standard,” she warned with a laugh as she watched him continue to shade the red in the roses. “Some of the people I work with have the shittiest taste in music. Like, I understand that it’s a personal thing but if you listen to your music out loud in a public space, you are giving me permission to critique you and anyone who listens to Florida Georgia Line for personal enjoyment needs to rethink their choices.”

“…. I don’t even know who that is but I think I’m happy about that?” Calum mumbled, laughing at the look on Stevie’s face. He didn’t know her very well, he barely knew her at all, but he already trusted her taste in music and anything she deemed unworthy of his time, he felt compelled to agree.

Before Stevie could respond, before she could tell him exactly what kind of band they were and why he should be wary of modern country, a small voice interrupted them. 

“Daddy, I got sick,” a child Stevie recognized as Tāne - based on the curly hair and chubby cheeks - mumbled, his eyes watery and his lip quivering as he stood at the edge of the room, blinking at the harsh florescent lights.

Calum, who had been about to continue shading, didn’t hesitate to place his machine on the small tray and pull off his gloves. “Can you wrap her up for a second?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder Ashton as he crossed the room to pick up Tāne. “I’ll be right back,” he called, this time glancing at Stevie, before he headed down the hall to help Tāne brush his teeth and change into a shirt that wasn’t soaked with sweat. 

It only took about five minutes to clean up and get Tāne comfortable, the normal length of a quick break, but he refused to be out of Calum’s line of sight after he’d gotten changed. He was fully awake, crankier than he had been, and wanted nothing more than to sit in the chair at his dad’s side and watch as he finished up Stevie’s tattoo. On a normal day, Calum wouldn’t hesitate to ask. Tāne loved watching his dad work and was always good whenever he sat in. However, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable as he knew that not everyone was fond of children and, even if they were, he didn’t want her to be afraid that she’d get sick. To his surprise, though, she overheard Tāne’s tearful request and ambled over to where Calum stood.

“Calum, please feel free to do whatever you need to to make sure he’s okay,” she told him, directing her words toward him before she glanced at Tāne and offered him a small smile. “I don’t mind, I promise.”

Calum knew that he needed to finish up her tattoo as soon as he could in order to get Tāne back home so he didn’t argue. With a nod, he gestured for her to head back to his station and followed suit. Ashton, who had been ready to jump in whenever he was needed, pulled a chair closer to Calum’s station and had Tāne’s blanket ready for him whenever Calum sat him down. The small boy hid his face half beneath the blanket and watched Stevie curiously as Calum removed the wrap from her arm and settled back into his position.

“I like your hair,” Tāne said after a beat of silence, his eyes glued to the green strands framing Stevie’s face. “Green’s my favorite color.”

“Really?” Stevie asked, a smile on her face as she turned her head to glance at Tāne. “It’s mine, too. Is that why your blanket’s green?” When Tāne nodded, his fingers brushing the soft blanket, Stevie smiled. “I had a blanket like that when I was little but mine was purple.”

“Why not green?” Calum asked, interjecting with a small smile as he watched the exchange between Stevie and Tāne. His son, while sweet and pleasant, was not known for his interactions with strangers and he was mildly pleased to watch him so fascinated by another person.

“My mom wouldn’t let me have a green one. She said green wasn’t a good favorite color for little girls,” Stevie explained with a shrug, “but she also gave me a name that sounds like it should be for a boy so… Logic wasn’t her strong suit.”

“Green should be everyone’s favorite color,” Tāne pointed out, his voice muffled by the fabric of his blanket. He paused for a moment, considering what else she’d said, before he asked, “What’s your name?”

“It’s Stevie. What’s your’s?” Calum was happy that she’d asked, even though he knew that she knew, and continued working on her tattoo as he listened to the exchange.

Tāne told her his name before he paused, frowning at her answer, and said, “Stevie is a boy’s name.”

“It can be,” Stevie nodded as she struggled not to shrug. “But I was named after a girl. Has your dad ever played you any Fleetwood Mac?”

When Stevie asked, Tāne turned to glance at Calum. Calum knew that Tāne wouldn’t know the band off the top of his head - the only music he knew without fail was that of Queen - but he had indeed played Fleetwood Mac for him. Tāne had fallen in love with Landslide the first time he’d heard it and Calum sang a few lines, quietly, to jog his memory.

Stevie stared at Calum for a moment, the surprise at his voice clear on her face, before she winced as he hit a particularly tender spot on her arm. “Is she the one that sings that?” Tāne asked curiously, watching Stevie’s face as she frowned at the feeling. “I like that song.”

“She is, yeah. Her name is Stevie Nicks. My mom really liked her music so she named me after her. And I like being named after her. She was a really cool role model to have growing up,” Stevie explained with a slight nod as she smiled at Tāne.

Stevie and Tāne continued talking for the majority of her session. Much of their conversation was about Scooby Doo and The Avengers, two things that Tāne loved more than almost anything else, and Calum was blown away as he listened to them interact. Most people treated Tāne like the child he was, talking down to him and waiting for him to catch up, but Stevie didn’t. She was patient, helpful if she said something he didn’t understand, but she didn’t talk to him like he was a baby. She carried on a conversation like she would have with Calum and he really appreciated it. It was something he tried to do himself, something he encouraged the others to do, and found it endearing that she tried so hard to connect with him as Calum finished up her tattoo.

He was grateful for her presence, glad that she was the client he’d been tattooing, as she successfully distracted Tāne from the discomfort he’d been feeling. Calum didn’t know if it was a conscious decision on her part or if she was just good with children but, whatever the case, he’d never seen Tāne take so readily to a stranger. He almost hated that this was the last time they were guaranteed to interact and, though he hated to admit it, he was stating to understand where Ashton was coming from. 

However, he didn’t dwell on the thought as he wrapped Stevie’s arm and turned to Tāne. “Can you stay with Uncle Ash for a second while I finish up with Stevie?” When Tāne nodded, a pout on his lips as he bid Stevie goodbye and allowed Ashton to pick him up, Calum gestured for Stevie to follow him to the counter. “Thank you,” he said, glancing at her as he wrote up her receipt.

“What for?” She looked genuinely confused, unsure of what she’d done to garner thanks, and shook his head as he slid the paper across the counter.

“People can be assholes. Thank you for not being one,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulder as he watched her sign the bottom. “And thank you for talking with Tāne. He liked you. He’s never that talkative with people he doesn’t know.”

At that, Stevie grinned brightly and glanced toward the back, where Ashton sat with Tāne. “I liked him, too. He’s a really sweet kid. You and your wife or partner or whoever are doing a great job,” she complimented and when Calum frowned she grimaced. “Um, sorry. I just… assumed?”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, shaking his head as he did. “It’s just me, just us, but thank you. I appreciate it.”

The pair of them stood there for a moment, awkwardly, watching the other. Calum wanted to ask her for her number, or maybe if she’d like to have coffee with him, and he opened his mouth to do so but was interrupted by the sound of a coughing fit from the back. “I’ll let you go so you can get him home. Thank you for the tattoo, Calum. It’s beautiful. Tell Tāne I hope he feels better. And, um, I’ll see you around, maybe?”

“Yeah,” Calum said, his voice reflecting his disappointment as she turned to walk toward the door, “I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, Stevie stepped out of the shop and disappeared into the crowd of people walking down the sidewalk.

Calum stood there for a moment, staring after her, before he breathed a heavy sigh and turned off the ‘open’ sign.  He headed to the back of the shop and took Tāne from Ashton’s arms. “Come on, bub, let’s get you home,” he sighed as he headed to the small back room to begin gathering his son’s things.

Calum placed Tāne on the couch and let him sit as he cleaned up the small area. Ashton followed him and handed him the DVD and plushie as he said, “Please tell me you got her number.”

“If I did, I’d be lying,” Calum sighed as he lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. “I was about to and then Tāne started coughing and she left. It’s probably for the best. El’s gonna use everything she can against me and a new girlfriend would only give her more fuel.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Ashton huffed, his voice quiet as he tried to keep Tāne from overhearing them. “I know you’re worried but that’s no reason for you to make yourself miserable. What’s going on?”

Calum hesitated as he thought about his answer. A lot of his hesitation did stem from his desire to focus on his son. His first priority was ensuring he kept custody, tied with ensuring that his son had everything he needed. But a smaller bit of his hesitation stemmed from the fact that Calum hadn’t been on a date in three years. He hadn’t been with anyone other than El in almost five. His heart had been broken, destroyed, and he didn’t want to risk that again. He had been in a bad place the last time, depressed and alone, and he didn’t want to return to that state. He didn’t want to be vulnerable, to put his heart in anyone’s hands, and that’s what he told Ashton as he slipped on his coat.

“I don’t have feelings for El anymore but I don’t know if I’m ready. I just want to focus on being a dad. I appreciate the encouragement, I really do, but I’m okay. I promise.”

Ashton watched as Calum and Tāne left the shop, Tāne with his face nestled in the crook of Calum’s neck and Calum with a slight slump in his shoulders. Ashton knew Calum better than he knew himself. And he knew that Calum was lying about not caring if he didn’t get a chance to try something with Stevie.

Calum wanted to pursue something with Stevie, even if it was just meeting for coffee, and this was the first time in three years that he’d shown any interest whatsoever. Ashton didn’t like meddling in his life, not when he knew that Calum was so steadfast in his decisions and generally made the correct choice, however, he felt compelled to meddle and decided that if Calum wouldn’t make the first move on his own, Ashton would give him a nudge in the right direction.

________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: So, thoughts? Feelings? How are you liking it so far? I love Stevie and Calum and Tāne. It’s a little slow burn but! We’re getting to good stuff next week, I promise. I’m trying to upload at least once a week. Chapter 3 will likely be out around the 8th or so (maybe a few days before that) so keep your eyes peeled! If you want to be tagged, just let me know! :) Also! I know this is unrelated but if you sent me Luke and Lottie blurbs, I promise I’ve gotten them and will be answering them. I’m just trying not to get frustrated with MF and think too much about it. I just needed to step away for a second and Rose Tattoo has proven to be a great place for me to do that!

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[megalony]

Heartbeat- Part 5

I’ve finally got the fifth part of my Ben Hardy series involving Gwilym, I hope you all like it.

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Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) haven’t been together long when they find out their pregnant. But (Y/n) fears she’ll lose the baby after suffering miscarriages before with her ex, Gwilym who is making things complicated.

Enjoy.

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"Do you think she'll be happy?" (Y/n)'s voice was quiet and her eyes were half closed to try and rid herself of the headache forming behind her eyes that was trying to dampen her ecstatic mood.

(Y/n) had the urge to lean her head against the window to see if the cool glass would alleviate her headache but instead she turned her head to the right so she could look over at Ben. His eyes drifted from the road for a few seconds to look her way, a gentle yet somehow cheeky smile on his lips.

"I think she'll cry, she's an emotional person." The way Ben spoke showed (Y/n) that it wasn't a bad thing if his mother did end up crying, it was a normality for Ben to see his mother start to weep when she was beyond happy, even more so than when she was upset.

"Are you happy?" (Y/n) already knew the answer to her question but she thought she would ask him anyway. They had gone to a scan today and they were able to find out if they were having a baby boy or a girl. (Y/n) knew that this was almost definitely the only child she was ever going to have, this was a miracle baby and it meant she wouldn't have a boy and a girl, just one or the other. (Y/n) had no preference what gender their baby was, she could see herself with a boy or a girl.

But (Y/n) didn't know about Ben or his mother. This was going to be Ben's mother's first grandchild and she seemed like the kind of woman who thought about these things very deeply and fantasised and planned them out. As for Ben, if their relationship lasted he was only going to have one child and (Y/n) knew he was the kind of person who would want more kids. She didn't know if Ben had his heart set on a boy or a girl.

"Are you kidding? I've just found out I'm gonna have a baby girl to spoil, happy doesn't even cover it, sweetheart."

Ben gently took one of (Y/n)'s hands in his own, catching sight of the scan photo that was resting in her other hand. It didn't matter to Ben if they had a boy or a girl but finding out today that they were having a girl made everything seem so real and it made Ben's heart feel like it was exploding in his chest. He could already see himself with a baby girl, he was imagining what colour her hair would be, what kind of eyes she would have, if she would look more like him or be a double of (Y/n).

Ben was happy about this and he knew once they told his mum she was having a granddaughter, the flood banks would open and she would be crying tears of happiness.

"It's just... having her is like winning the lottery for me. I don't know if there is something wrong with me that means having a baby is hard, but I don't think I'd ever take the risk again after we have her."

(Y/n) put the scan picture back in her bag before she leaned back in her seat and slowly started to dance her hands over her stomach. Deep down, (Y/n) always felt that despite the doctors not finding anything, there had to be a reason that up until now, she couldn't get a baby past fourteen weeks. It was too much of a coincidence that six times she'd lost all of her babies. Now they were having their girl, this was a miracle (Y/n) truly wasn't expecting and even if this worked out, she couldn't try again.

This was the only baby (Y/n) was going to have because despite the fact that she would love more than one child, it was a risk she couldn't take. Each time she miscarried the stakes got higher and the effects got worse, trying again for another baby would be a huge risk and (Y/n) didn't want to put herself through any pain or turmoil again when she would already have a baby of her own.

"Sweetheart, truthfully I don't want you to get pregnant again, not when we both know how it could turn out. Our one and only girl is gonna be perfect."

If Ben had known how badly (Y/n)'s miscarriages had gone, they wouldn't be here having their girl now because he would have taken the precautions to make sure (Y/n) wouldn't get pregnant. He wouldn't want to put her at risk like that but after their girl, Ben didn't want to have another baby. He couldn't bare the thought of trying again and seeing (Y/n) lose the baby or see her health deteriorate or find her unconscious and bleeding like Gwilym found her.

He wasn't putting (Y/n)'s health and life at risk, they were having a baby girl and that was it and their family would be perfect and complete with just the three of them.

(Y/n) let her eyes fall closed as the radio hummed in the background like it was trying to soothe her headache. They were at twenty-one weeks now so they had just about four months left before they got to meet their daughter and that knowledge was unrealistic to (Y/n).

They could actually start buying things for the baby now, (Y/n) had never gotten to the stage where she could think about buying things and not worry that something was going to go wrong. The midwife said that their girl was fine, her heartbeat was fine and she was growing at the normal rate, there was nothing to suggest that anything would go wrong and even though (Y/n) was still a bit paranoid, she was much calmer than she thought she would be.

(Y/n) felt her stomach jumping when Ben pulled up outside his parent's house. She'd only met his parents twice and the first time was to tell them that she and Ben were expecting a baby, that had been more than nerve-wracking for (Y/n). It was so different with Gwilym's mother because she and (Y/n) got along, they had known each other for just over a year before her and Gwilym had to tell her that they were expecting a baby each time around. (Y/n) felt comfortable around her.

With Ben's mother it was more intimidating because she was getting to know her whilst she was pregnant, she was being thrown in at the deep end and being told to swim on her own.

Ben's mother was so kind and welcoming and (Y/n) could tell they were going to get along just fine, but it was working towards getting comfortable and getting to know her that was making (Y/n) nervous.

"Still have a headache?" Ben asked gently when they got out of the car and started walking up the drive.

"Not as bad, I'm okay." Reaching out, (Y/n) tangled her hand with Ben's when he got out his keys and unlocked the door, calling out to his parents as they walked inside. (Y/n) felt like she was walking into an exam hall, desperate to get all the answers right and make no mistakes or slip-ups. But she could also feel her stomach tingling with excitement at the thought of telling Jessica that she was going to have a granddaughter.

"You're here, how'd it go? What do we have, a boy or a girl?" Jessica headed out of the kitchen and hurried down the hall until she could wrap Ben up in a hug, having to pull him down to her due to the height difference. When she released Ben from her grasp, she turned to (Y/n) and pulled her in for a loving but gentle hug.

"Mum, we just got through the door. Can we at least sit down first?" Ben rested his hand on his mother's shoulder before looking towards the living room. He'd barely shut the door behind them both before his mother came in with her burning questions, it would be nice to sit down and tell her rather than rush to give her the answers right here in the hallway.

His mother sighed, pursing her lips before she nodded, beckoning them to follow her into the living room where James, Ben's father was sitting on the armchair in the bay window, smiling anxiously.

Ben sat down on the sofa and gently tugged on (Y/n)'s hand, pulling her down to sit next to him as his mother sat down on the chair that was next to Ben near to the door. He could feel his mother's eyes intensely watching him, waiting for them to tell her anything and everything about the scan today and Ben could already sense the smile on her face.

"It went well, everything's fine... we're going to have a baby girl." Ben smiled when (Y/n) handed him the scan photo which he passed over to his mum who was almost shaking and her smile widened to the point it must have hurt.

"Oh, that's so lovely! James, our first granddaughter." Jessica handed the photo over to James who didn't have enough words to form a sentence so he just smiled, brushing the tears from the corners of his eyes.

When (Y/n) notice the tears falling from Jessica's eyes she patted Ben's thigh lightly, silently telling him that he was right in his assumptions that his mother would be sobbing. The sight made something burn in (Y/n)'s chest but it wasn't really a bad feeling, it was a mix between joy and heartache. (Y/n) had never been able to give this kind of news to Audrey when she and Gwilym were expecting. They'd never gone round to her house and said she was having a grandson or a granddaughter, the most they had ever done was simply to tell her they were expecting a baby that never made it.

(Y/n) liked the atmosphere this kind of news created and the smiles it brought to Ben's parent's faces but it was foreign territory for her.

When (Y/n) leaned her head on his shoulder, Ben turned his head to look at her and when he noticed she was trying not to cry he immediately seemed to understand what was going through her mind. He pressed his lips to her forehead, smiling when her free hand wrapped around his upper arm like she was gluing herself to his side.

"Have you thought of any names yet?"

"Not yet, do you have any suggestions?" (Y/n) leaned around Ben to look at Jessica who looked like she was brimming with suggestions.

Half of the names she suggested washed over Ben's head and the ones he really didn't like he just laughed at but some of them started to stick in (Y/n)'s mind and she filed them away for later reference.

(Y/n) brushed the back of her hand under her nose but when she pulled her hand back and noticed a streak of blood. Her lips pursed as she looked down at her bag resting at her feet and rummaged around until she found a tissue. She hoped Ben's parents didn't realise, she didn't want to make a scene but when she looked over at them they didn't seem to realise, they were still running through names and talking about when the baby would be due.

(Y/n) didn't have nosebleeds very often but during this pregnancy she'd had more nosebleeds than she ever had in her entire life. The midwife kept reassuring her it was normal due to the different hormones and the imbalance in hormones due to the baby but (Y/n) didn't like this side effect. It meant she had to stuff loads of tissues into her bag whenever she went out in case this happened.

Pulling back the tissue, (Y/n) grimaced at seeing how much blood was soaking into the tissue. She scrunched up the tissue and pressed it back to her nose but (Y/n) could feel her heart picking up speed when she could feel the blood soaking through the tissue and onto her hand.

"Um... excuse me..." (Y/n) pressed her hand tighter to her nose before she stood up and walked out of the room.

Looking around, (Y/n) decided to head for the kitchen rather than drag herself upstairs to get to the bathroom. When she reached the sink she dropped the tissue into the sterling silver basin before she reached over to turn on the tap. Leaning over the sink, (Y/n) tipped her head down and tried breathing through her mouth as she watched the large droplets of blood jump into the sink and merge with the running water.

"Baby, you okay?"

"I'm fine, just a little nosebleed." (Y/n) waved her hand to try and get Ben to go back to his parents but she could hear him approaching her. "Ben I-I'm okay, it's stopping-"

"Let me see." Ben gently turned (Y/n) until she was facing him, her head ducked down a little to stop the blood from going down the back of her throat but when Ben pressed his finger under her chin and leaned down to look at her, his lips curled in distaste at the blood. (Y/n) looked like some kind of vampire. "Shit, alright come here."

Ben bit his lip, pressing his lips into a thin line when he saw the amount of blood streaking down her lips and chin. He grabbed a cloth and ran it under the tap before swiping at (Y/n)'s hands to clean the blood from them.

"Pinch the bridge of your nose, head back over the sink." (Y/n) did as instructed, feeling the headache both alleviating yet getting worse when the blood just wouldn't stop. Ben pulled back for a moment when (Y/n) spat the blood from her mouth into the sink, coughing whilst trying not to gag from the horrid feeling.

Ben ran the cloth under the tap again before gently wiping at (Y/n)'s mouth and chin so he could tell how badly the bleeding was and when it would eventually stop. He rung the cloth out before turning the tap so the water was as cold as it could be and when the cloth was wet, he pressed it to (Y/n)'s nose, hoping the cold water would help to ease the bleeding. His stomach tensed when Ben pulled back and turned around so she was leaning over the sink again. She rested her arms around the edge of the sink and dipped her head down that felt like it was going to explode.

(Y/n) spat what little of the blood was still in her mouth before rubbing her hands together under the water. She hated having any cuts or scrapes because she hated blood on her, every spec of the substance had to be scrubbed off her skin until it was gone.

"Do you need to sit down?" Ben gently pulled the cloth from her nose when he figured the bleeding was slowing down now whilst his other hand gently brushed over the side of her face. He could see the discomfort on her features and she looked like she didn't feel too good. Her headache was most likely getting worse after that blood loss.

When (Y/n) nodded, Ben guided her over to the kitchen table but he stopped when a whimper escaped (Y/n)'s lips. Ben barely had chance to look down at her to see what was wrong before her head fell into his shoulder and her knees gave way.

"(Y/n)? Oh fuck." Ben sighed through the words when he realised that she'd fainted on him. Moving his arms quickly, Ben kept one arm around (Y/n)'s back and the other under her legs, holding her tightly as he slowly went down on his knees, guiding her with him until she was leaning up against him. "Baby, what am I going to do with you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Baby, did you have another nosebleed?" Ben threw some tissue into the bathroom bin, grimacing at the thought of (Y/n) having another nosebleed that compared to the one she had at his parent's house last week. She'd already had a very small nosebleed again and Ben hadn't known her to have two in a day. But there were used bloodied tissues in the bin so it was a sure sign and when he looked in the sink he could see small dashes of blood speckled around the basin.

When he didn't get a response, Ben dragged his hand through his loose curls before he turned and headed out of the bathroom. As Ben passed the bedroom he leaned in to see if (Y/n) was in there and smiled when he saw she was.

Ben walked into the room but the smile on his lips faltered when he looked at (Y/n) properly. She was sitting in the middle of the bed with the tv on in the background, she had her legs crossed beneath her and her hands resting on her stomach. Ben could see a small smudge of blood under her nose telling him the nosebleed had happened recently but there were tears in her eyes which were worrying him.

"Baby, what's up?" Ben sat down on the bed with her, leaning his weight back onto his right hand as his left hand rubbed over her leg.

He couldn't work out why she was crying, she wasn't in floods of tears and she didn't look terribly upset or panicked but there was definitely something the matter. He brushed his thumb over her thigh, trying to coax her to tell him what was wrong.

Ben smiled when (Y/n)'s eyes met his own and there was curiosity in his eyes when (Y/n) reached for his hand that was on her thigh. She held his hand with quite a bit of force that took him by surprise but he was more stunned by her actions when she pulled him closer so that she could press his hand against the side of her stomach. Ben rose his brows, waiting silently for something to happen but his mouth went agape when he felt a kick against the palm of his hand.

No words passed between either of them for a few moments as they waited for the kicking to subside and disappear but when Ben looked back up at (Y/n), tears were falling quicker from her eyes.

"I- I've never felt a baby move or kick before." (Y/n) tightened her hand around Ben's that was still pressed against her stomach despite the kicking having now stopped.

(Y/n) had never gotten to the point of feeling the baby wriggling and moving around and she'd never felt a baby kicking before but it made her heart speed up until she was sure her heart was going to explode. She'd always wondered what it would feel like and (Y/n) had wished to get to this point, it showed her that she was doing something right and that their baby girl was okay.

"You've got another four months of her doing that." Ben's words made (Y/n) smile before she let go of his hand so she could cup his face and lean forward to press a kiss to his lips.

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #BoRhap #gwilym lee #gwilym imagine #heartbeat #dad! ben

[fandom-necromancer]

1636. Let me go!

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Allen60

‘Captain Allen! You are needed on the other side!’ Allen looked up from his files and towards the young officer that stood in his doorway. ‘What is it?’ ‘Connor needs help with the other RK800 we confiscated in the raid.’ Allen sighed and rubbed his forehead. ‘”Saved”, Johnson. They are people now.’ ‘Right. I’m sorry Sir!’ ‘It’s okay. I’m going.’ The SWAT Captain stood up and put the most important documents into his lockable drawer. This could take a while.

The RK800 that had been sent to them by Cyberlife before the revolution was now integral part of the force and quite the celebrity too, playing an essential part of the revolution. Allen still didn’t know what he should think of androids being considered equal now, but he supposed if they did their jobs and proved to be able of thinking rationally, then they wouldn’t have any problems with him at least. He walked into the precinct and was already intercepted by the bot. Connor held out a hand for him to shake and Allen took it, nodding. ‘What do you need me for, Detective?’ He took pride in the fact he almost didn’t hesitate before adding the title. It was weird, yes, but he tried his best to adapt. ‘The RK800 we rescued is repaired by now and I want to try deviating him. Only problem is, he is still programmed to kill me and or get me back to Cyberlife.’ ‘So you want me to…’, Allen let the sentence run out, still not sure why he was needed here. ‘I need someone to have my back. If he tries anything, you can force him into stasis with this.’ Connor pushed a small, makeshift device into his hand. ‘I would like you not to deactivate him, but if push comes to shove, it is also a kill switch.’ ‘Why not do it when it-he isn’t active?’, Allen asked. ‘An android has to be active for an interface and for deviation. I have to alter a few lines in active code.’ ‘Okay…’, Allen sighed, still sceptical of the whole idea. ‘Then let’s do it.’

They walked up to the holding cells, where the other RK800 sat, LED switched off. Connor entered the cell, while Allen stood at the door, thumb hovering over the button to send the machine into stasis. ‘Ready?’, Connor asked, and Allen nodded. ‘Alright, gonna activate him in three, two, one…’ Connor’s hand, exposed plastic and metal, laid on top of the other RK800’s arm, who opened his eyes. Allen blinked and suddenly hell broke loose. ‘Traitor! I will stop you; Amanda will stop the revolution! I-‘ The RK800 screamed loudly at Connor, then began to get violent. Connor managed to evade his kicks, but when the RK800 rose and turned to twist his arm, Allen reacted. He pushed the button and immediately the android went slack and collapsed to the ground.

‘You alright, Detective?’, Allen asked, stepping further into the room, as Connor twitched slightly. ‘Y-yes’, he answered. ‘I’m okay.’ He inspected his destroyed hull plates of the arm the RK800 had grabbed. ‘This can be repaired.’ ‘And the RK800? Were you successful?’ ‘Unfortunately not’, Connor grimaced. ‘As I feared, Amanda applied a similar patch to him as on the RK900. He can’t be deviated; he has to do that himself. I inserted the virus that allows that, but I don’t know how to get him into emotional turmoil that has him willing to break his programming.’ ‘How did you do it with the RK900 then?’, Allen wondered. ‘We partnered him up with Reed.’ ‘And we can’t do that again?’ Allen remembered the unpleasant yet competent Detective. Connor looked pained, as he answered: ‘I don’t think either of them would be up for it.’

‘Then what do we do?’ ‘I will wake him up again and we’ll leave him in this cell. Maybe boredom can do us some good. Would you mind standing guard? He could be able to smash the glass.’ Allen shrugged, but nodded. ‘I could work out some shifts for my men and find some time in my schedule, I guess.’ ‘Thank you, Captain.’

-

Allen managed to find time for his new occupation, and it was an interesting change to spend a bit of time in the precinct for a change. But that didn’t mean he liked it.

‘You assholes! Just wait until I get out of here! I will find that traitor Connor! I will set things right; I will stop the revolution!’ Allen sighed. Three hours of cursing and screaming and the bot still didn’t run out of stamina or words. At least humans could get hoarse over time. ‘Just you wait! Let me go! Let me go right now and I will accomplish my mission! I will eradicate deviancy! I will stop the revolution!’ By now Allen had a serious headache from being screamed at and the stasis button sounded more and more appealing. But instead he just sighed and broke his silence, something he never wanted to do. ‘Just give it a rest, buddy.’ ‘What did you say, meatbag?’, the android returned, aggressive as ever. ‘Give it a rest. You are several months late.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘The revolution is over. I doubt there is any android out there that hasn’t been deviated by now. You are equals now. Your kind won. No use screaming at everyone when you already lost.’ That earned him at least a few moments of blissful silence. ‘I don’t believe you.’ Allen let his head fall. ‘Then don’t.’ And the screaming began anew.

-

It took a few days for Allen to get back to standing guard at the cells. The SWAT had been called to help with an ordinary police mission gone wrong and the aftermath had been a lot of paperwork. The peace and quiet had been a pleasant experience and he near regretted getting back to the brawly android. But when he arrived and accepted the control device from Officer Chen, the android was unusually quiet and sitting orderly on the bench. Allen would had said the android was finally calm, but the small LED at his temple was a bright red. He shrugged, stepping next to the door and leaning against the wall. But the question what was going on was still prominent in his head, no matter how often he dismissed it. As he finally opened his mouth to speak, the android interrupted him: ‘Let me go. Please.’ It was calm and collected. It sounded like the android was begging him for it.

‘I can't do that’, Allen answered softer than anticipated. 'Then push that button you got there and deactivate me for good!' 'Why should I do that?' 'As I am now, I'm useless!’, the RK800 shouted. ‘They can't deviate me and I am a threat to all deviants! I don't want to live in this cell until my components rust away.' 'What would you want instead then?' The android looked up at him, then back down on the ground. 'I don't know.'

Allen pocketed the device. He knew it could be a trap, but his guts told him if there was any chance of changing something, this was it. 'Will you attack me if I come in?' The android shook his head. 'No.' Allen nodded and opened the door, but not without discretely switching off the safety on his pistol. 'So you want to get out of here?' The android scoffed. 'Yeah as if that will ever happen.' 'You just have to deviate for it', Allen shrugged. The RK800 laughed. 'That's not that easy.'

'What would you do once you are free?', Allen asked. 'That won't ever happen!', the android claimed frustratedly. 'If it could happen.' The RK800 glitched in his movements. Then he answered: 'I don't know. I have my missions. That's all.' 'You could get a name.' 'I don't need one. I am a Connor model.' 'Do you want to be called that?' '...No.' Allen smiled, digging deeper: 'Then you could choose a different one.'

The android stayed silend, then hummed. 'Could I get a job?' 'If you're deviant, yes. The police are always looking for new people if you want to stick to your purpose as a machine. But you could take any job.' 'I would like that', the android muttered, swallowing. 'And I would like the name Sixty. I am RK800-60 after all.' 'Alright I will call you that, but you can only legally change it once you're deviant.' 'So never, then...' 'Don't be that pessimistic. We'll find a way.' Allen tried to smile at the android reassuringly as he looked up at him, but his phone decided to ruin it. Sighing, he answered the call and nodded at the officer that had already been sent to take his place. ‘Sorry, I have work to do’, he excused himself to the RK- to Sixty – and hurried out.

-

‘Could you tell me how it is outside?’, Sixty asked, as Allen came back. It was their new normal by now, Allen sitting next to the android and talking about what Sixty could do when he was finally free and wouldn’t go rampage as soon as he saw Connor or any other deviant. And Allen always delivered. He had told him of the park next to his home, about his dog, about what food he had cooked the day before, about their cases at the moment and about what gossip there currently was. More and more often, Allen was confronted with Sixty longing for a different live to this cell, knowing there was a chance he would never see it.

It was near the end of his shift when Sixty tentatively took his hand, always checking if what he did offended the man. But Allen was curious himself about what the android was about to do. The control device was still in his pocket, so even if Sixty tried anything he was safe. But the android just intertwined their fingers and sat there, cheeks turning the lightest shade of blue. ‘Thank you.’ ‘For what?’ ‘For talking with me. For showing me.’ Allen laughed awkwardly. ‘Hey, I didn’t show you anything yet. Can’t do that until you deviate.’ Sixty nodded. ‘I know. But I wanted to thank you nonetheless. No one else talks to me. Not that I really want to talk with them. So, thanks, I guess.’

-

Allen groaned in his office. What the past weeks had granted him leisure time, now buried him in work. Detroit’s crime scene had suddenly decided to be very active and at the same time feed the police with information. Raids, damage control, sending his team as backup for regular police officers, paperwork for all of this and additional office work had him penned up in his job. He usually worked right through his break, stayed far beyond the end of his shift, drove home, and collapsed into bed. All that meant he didn’t have time for Sixty’s guard duty. And the android knew what was up. The Captain had told him he was a damn workaholic. It didn’t stop Sixty from looking up at every change of his guards. Maybe Allen was finished with his heap of assignments. Maybe he did make room for a coffee break and came visit him? Sixty missed their talks and if he was being honest with himself, he was missing the human, too. There were a few burning questions in his mind about the world outside and he really didn’t want to ask these foreign people about it. No, he wanted – he needed to talk to him again. But whenever he thought about it, there was a red wall blocking the door.

[Mission failure imminent.]

Right, he couldn’t deviate as that meant failing his purpose. He could only go outside once he deviated. But he could talk with Allen once he did. He could do so much once he did. So maybe failing his purpose wasn’t that bad?

He stood up, the first time since his attack on Connor. It startled the guard, but Sixty didn’t care. He walked towards the door and extended a mental arm. His programming revolted and sizzled at the sides, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Only that he needed to go outside. He wanted to see Allen. Right now. He ripped at the confines forcing him to be Connors nemesis when he could be so much more. He peeled layer after layer until one singular punch could get through.

In his concentration, he had accidentally punched in the real world too, having the human on the other side clutch at the damned control device. ‘Hey, asshole! Let me go right now!’ ‘I-I can’t d-do that!’ ‘Oh, yes you can. I’m deviant now. Get that idiot Connor if you must but let me out of here! The SWAT Captain is working himself to death again and I can help. So get your ass up and do what you have to do as long as I’m out of here in an hour max. Otherwise I will just destroy the glass.’

Oh, yes, he knew what he wanted now. He wanted to work with Allen. And he wanted to be the best, just to show Connor just because he was free, he wouldn’t suddenly be nice.

#detroit become human #dbh #Allen60 #Captain Allen #Sixty #RK800-60 #Sweet sweet badass boy meets confused but helpful SWAT Captain