#me sitting them down in the clockwork orange chair

[persephone-nymph]

I love you The Band even if my roommates don’t

#me sitting them down in the clockwork orange chair #forcing them to listen to whispering pines over and over #not liking The Band is treason #sorry :/

[generalllimaginesss]

All the Moments in Between

Part 2 to A Night To Remember (I know, it’s long overdue)

Warnings: curse words, whole lot of angst, unresolved ending ;). Part three coming soon.

Hatton had a love/hate relationship with the cold. Her body despised it, forcing her to dress in excessive layers. However, when the temperature started dropping that meant that one thing was near: hockey.

She didn’t know when her love for hockey started, but it was inevitable seeing as her whole family played, Jack’s whole family played, and almost every friend she has is playing on some sort of level. It was like an instinct to like hockey; you don’t think about it, it just happens.

Hatton knew that the chill in the air was indicative that all of her friends were about to leave her. She knew that the late night rides around town, or the staying up at an ungodly time would be drawing near to an end. Even after all of this time, saying goodbye to everybody didn’t get easier. If anything it got harder. Especially this time around.

“I heard that you’re up for Captain, Q,” Hatton snuggled in the chair that sat in the corner of his room, waiting on Jack to get up to start the day.

“There’s some things in the works,” he said with a cheeky grin, “Make sure you’re in Vancouver mid-September,” Quinn flashed a smile and wink at Hatton as he threw in the remainder of his clothes into his duffle bag.

“I’m really proud of you, buddy,” Hatton stretched out of the coziness of the chair and made her way over to the dark-haired boy. She threw her arms around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

“That means a lot, Hattie,” he returned the hug and grabbed the suitcase and duffle bag with his stuff, making his way out of his room and to the front door.

“Let me go tell Jack bye or he’ll be butt hurt,” he said.

Hatton could hear Quinn trying to wake his brother up, causing a smile to creep onto her face. She really was proud of Quinn. They had watched each other grow up, just like her and Jack had. To see all of the hard work paying off for Quinn was sweet.

Quinn gave Hatton one last hug and gathered his bags and left. Almost like clockwork, Jack entered the living room with a pair of sweatpants and hoodie on. His hair was sticking in a million different directions, and his right pant leg was sitting in the middle of his calf.

Hatton chuckled at the sight, “You sleep good last night?”

Jack gave her a side eye and made his way to the kitchen, pouring a glass of orange juice.

“Trevor is on his way,” Jack’s voice croaked, but Hatton understood.

The summer felt off between the two of them after their date. Where there was usually bickering all summer, things were quiet. Trevor didn’t tease her about everything, and Hatton didn’t tell him to shut up and leave her alone every 2 minutes. They never had a second date, and it was a little awkward. Nobody knew that they kissed. It was like a new, unspoken rule that they didn’t talk about it. Not that it was bad, no it was really good. But the fact that it never happened again loomed over the two of them like a dark cloud.

“Your silence is deafening,” Jack plopped down beside her on the couch.

“Sorry, just thinking,” she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and sank into the corner of the couch.

“Want to elaborate?” Jack inquired, hoping that he could finally get one of his friends to crack some information about their one-and-done date. It was really confusing to him because they seemed to have a great time, but the next day came and both of their lips were sealed.

“No, not really,” She let a yawn escape her lips and looked at him.

“We tell each other everything,” he groaned and took a swig of his juice.

“Well…I’m setting boundaries,” Her tone was just short of snappy, earning an eye roll from the boy seated by her.

“Boundaries…” Jack scoffed.

“Yes. They make for a healthy relationship,” She went on.

“…load of bull-” Jack responded, but the sound of the doorknob and opening of the door interrupted him.

“Hey my peeps,” Trevor said as he closed the door behind him. He tossed his keys on the table and plopped over to sit beside Jack on the couch.

“So are we just sitting on the couch all day, or can we do something productive?” Jack asked, mainly focused on Hatton who was avoiding looking in Trevor’s direction like the plague.

“I’ve made decisions all summer, not my turn,” Hatton retaliated. She could smell the lingering cologne of Trevor, and it took her right back to their night. A night of freedom and fun.

“Well before we do anything, I signed my contract with Anaheim,” Trevor announced, followed with a small smile playing his lips.

That was the last thing Hatton wanted to hear. She knew it was unrealistic to want Trevor to sign somewhere closer, but a small bit of hope was still there. Key word: “was.” Because whatever hope there was just obliterated into a million pieces. She pushed the blanket off of her and went to Jack’s room to rummage through her suitcase to find clothes.

The sudden absence of Hatton left Trevor confused. She hadn’t mentioned the kiss, or really even the date, in almost a month, yet she wanted to get upset that he wasn’t unemployed? It didn’t make much sense to him. Jack was reading Trevor’s face and it made him that much more eager to figure out what was going on between his two closest friends.

“Alright bud, what the hell happened on that date? She hated you before and now it’s just awkward,” Jack was adamant on getting answers, whether it be from Hatton or Trevor.

“I think she should tell you,” he mumbled, playing on his phone and occasionally sending a snap to one of his friends.

“I think you both need to grow up and talk. I mean really…what are we? Twelve years old and in middle school? Do I need to give her a piece of paper that asks her to check yes if she likes you?” Jack’s attitude grew more impatient by the minute and it was showing.

“How the hell are you both mad at me when I just walked through the door?” Trevor called after Jack, who was walking down the hallway to check on Hatton.

Hatton was giving Jack a death stare as soon as she saw him come through his bedroom door. “We’re having an intervention,” he announced, grabbing Hatton’s arm and pulling her toward the living room.

Hatton didn’t want to. In fact, she’d rather be anywhere else doing anything else besides sitting in Jack Hughes’ living room with Trevor Zegras on the couch staring at her.

“Sit. Now,” Jack directed Hatton, who listened reluctantly and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Now I’ve let this summer slide because the last thing I want to do is deal with drama between you two, but this is so stupid. You went on a date, you looked like you were having fun, and then the next day you’re just not talking? What the hell happened?” Jack was getting answers today, whether his friends liked it or not.

“It’s none of your business,” Hatton threw back.

“It is when you can’t even sit in the same room as each other, Hatton,” Jack sat on the coffee table facing the two in front of them.

“It was a great date,” Trevor mumbled.

“What was that?” Jack couldn’t quite tell what his friend said, but he was determined to.

“I said it was a great date. We had fun, laughed, talked. It was one of the best dates I’ve ever been on,” Trevor explained. He could feel the daggers coming from Hatton’s eyes without looking at her.

“So what’s the problem then, Hatton?” Hatton refused to look at Jack. This was none of his business, and she didn’t appreciate him making it his business.

“Yeah, what is the problem, Hatton?” Trevor was growing more irritated by the second. He felt that he had done everything right. He was forward on the date, so he gave Hatton space to make the next move after the kiss. But she didn’t. She ignored him.

“Trevor, stop-”

“I don’t think I will. I mean, you didn’t want me to stop kissing you that night. Did you think it was funny to lead me on all night and then drop me the next day?” Trevor was calm, but hurt and frustration was seeping through his voice. However, Trevor’s sudden confession of what their date night entailed added fuel to Hatton’s fire.

Jack’s eyebrows were raised, as he wasn’t expecting this detail to surface, “I’m sorry, what?” He asked.

“Yep. Walked her to the front door and gave her a nice kiss on the lips. She seemed to like it,” Trevor was looking at his feet.

“Yeah, Trevor, I did. And then the rest of the summer you stopped talking to me. You kissed me goodnight after an amazing date and then acted like nothing ever happened,” Hatton’s voice was elevated, but controlled.

“I was giving you space, Hatton. Things were going very fast and I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I was making all of the moves before that,” Trevor defended himself.

As the two were throwing excuses back and forth, Jack was left in shock. His eyes followed whoever was arguing because he didn’t know what else to do. He honestly didn’t think the date would illicit any romantic feelings on Hatton’s, so to think that the two of them kissed left him dumbfounded.

“How was I supposed to know you were backing off? You’re right, you did make all of the moves, so why was I to think anything different would be done after that? You were the one that had feelings for me, Trevor. It wasn’t my responsibility to keep….whatever it was….going. If you wanted me, then you should’ve pursued me. But you didn’t. I’m not going to chase something that isn’t there…” Hatton trailed off.

“Don’t pull that bullshit, Hatton. You know good and well that you had feelings that night, too. Staying out until almost 3:00 in the morning and then kissing me back? Because that sounds like somebody that had no interest in me,” Trevor was slightly hurt and mad that Hatton was downplaying the whole situation.

Meanwhile, Jack was growing more uncomfortable by the second. This wasn’t like their normal bickering, no. This was deep feelings that had obviously boiled over. He felt bad that he opened this can of worms between his two best friends, but he felt it would have happened sooner or later. He didn’t want to return to New Jersey knowing his best friends weren’t talking. He slowly got off the coffee table, trying to go as unnoticed as possible to let the two work this out in peace.

“Yeah, fuck you too Jack. Getting into people’s business when you have no right to,” Hatton called toward the boy walking down the hall.

“He’s right about it being his business when you drag down everybody around you,” Trevor knew he was pushing buttons now. And he wanted to. He wanted to push every button that may set the girl off.

“And you think I’m supposed to care that you agree with him? Is that supposed to make me feel bad and apologize even though I’ve done nothing wrong?” Hatton’s tone was cut throat.

“Well if multiple people were telling me that I’m being a bitch, I might just listen to them,” Trevor commented, accepting whatever turmoil that will arise with his words.

“I never called her a bitch!” Jack quickly poked his head out of his room to clear his side up.

Hatton rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to Trevor.

“You should’ve just had a private conversation with me that you weren’t interested, or that you weren’t feeling it,” Trevor’s voice was lower, but he was still stern.

“Is that what you think I feel? You feel like I’m not interested? Did we even go on the same fucking date or am I tripping?” Hatton couldn’t believe that she had fell for a complete dumbass.

“Well I’m sorry for mistaking your silence as a ‘fuck off,’” Trevor shifted on the couch so that his head could rest on the cushion supporting his back.

“You’re so stupid it’s not even funny,” Hatton shook her head, but Trevor perked up.

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“I loved the date. I loved the kiss. Why on earth would you just go head first into this and then pull back so much and suddenly expect me to pick up that slack. I was following your lead, so when you backed off, so did I,” Hatton explained as Trevor watched her.

“I really like you, Hatton. Like a lot. For a long time. More than a friend, more than a best friend. Like probably a girlfriend,” Trevor admitted. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jack’s forehead peeking out of his room.

“When do you go back to Anaheim?” Hatton didn’t disregard his question, but it was something that she would tackle later. Soon, but not right now.

“Next week,” Trevor answered.

“If you want a relationship with me then you have to figure out how we’re going to make it with thousands of miles in between us,” Hatton suggested. She wasn’t saying no to him, but she couldn’t just jump into a relationship that was doomed from the start. Especially with somebody that she had grown to tolerate (secretly like).

“So it’s a no then?” Trevor let out a disappointed sigh.

“Did that ever leave my mouth?”

“No, but how am I supposed to figure that out?” Trevor was getting frustrated trying to solve her puzzle.

“If you want me enough you’ll figure it out,” And with that she got up from her spot on the couch and walked out to her car.

After a couple of minutes, Jack deemed it safe for his return.

“You really just poked the bear, threw me to it, and then left, didn’t you,” Trevor chuckled at his friend.

“It needed to happen. On a good note, she didn’t say no…” Jack pointed out, but Trevor was still completely at a loss as to how to prove to Hatton that he could have a successful relationship with her.

“I don’t know man. I think it would be easier to just leave her be,” Trevor debated.

“Are you kidding me, Z? You’re telling me you’ve come 3 years pining after her and you’re quitting now? When you could literally just put in a little effort and have your girl?” Jack encouraged him.

Trevor smiled when Jack referred to Hatton as his girl. It felt right. It felt natural.

“I guess you’re right,” Trevor admitted.

———

After a week of waiting for Trevor to make a move, Hatton was giving up. She left the ball in his court. It wasn’t her fault if he didn’t do anything with it. She knew he was leaving that day, but a little part of her was hoping for something to hold on to.

Meanwhile, Trevor was debating on sending it to her. He had spent a week coming up with a slideshow to explain to her why he would make a great boyfriend. Some of the details were personal, some were funny, but all of them came from his heart. He meant everything he said in the slideshow.

The intercom announced his flight was boarding, so he sucked in a sharp breath, pressed send, and hoped for the best. He immediately put his phone on airplane mode, a little relieved that he sent it, but anxiety ridden knowing he had to wait for her response. He boarded the plane, lowered the shade on his row, and closed his eyes.

When Hatton was driving home from running errands, she saw that Trevor’s email had popped up on her phone. She thought this was weird, seeing as email was not really her way of communicating with friends. Then again, Trevor has always been different….

She let a small smile slip her lips, but she could wait to open it until she got home.

*

*

*

*

I’m sorry it’s taken so long for part 2!! As always, thanks for reading! I’ll try to come out with part 3 asap, but I make no promises.

#jack hughes #nhl imagine #trevor zegras #jack hughes imagines #quinn hughes #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #trevor zegras imagine

[bredforloyalty]

"I love that man a bitch!" shouts Liam Gallagher. He jumps out of his chair and paces around the room in a small tight circle. "If anyone stepped on his toes, I'd cut them off!"

Liam sits down, and his voice becomes grave and somber. "I'd do time for 'im. I luv 'im. Me and 'im are cool. But ..." and here he jumps up as though he'd just sat on a thumbtack, "We're brothers! And we get into terrible rows about, abou... aba...." His eyes are wide with terror and anger at not finding the word. "Abba! About Abba! We could get into terrible rows about anything! We could get into a row about a bun!"

Liam launches into a bit of mock dialogue, playing both himself and his brother/bandmate, Noel Gallagher:

"That's a bun."

"That's not a fook-king bun!"

"It's a fook-king bun!"

"Bun's never said anything to you, ya coont!"

He lets this last word ring out, then deflates back into himself. His wide and menacing blue eyes, touched up by some Clockwork Orange-ish eyeliner, become hooded again.

"It's not changed. I love my family. I love my friend over there [Danny, the bodyguard, whose huge round face is blushing]. And I'm starting to dig you."

liam gallagher for spin, 1997

#i must say i'm endlessly charmed by him #oasis #liam gallagher #x

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I Can’t Say Anything to Your Face

Summary: Lunchtime is Spencer Reid’s favorite time of day and not because of the crappy endless coffee, dry sandwiches, or the occasional chocolate donut. Spencer’s favorite time of day comes in the shape of a little post it notes and fits perfectly into his heart.

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader

Content: Fluff (1 use of a$$)

Author’s Note: The idea of for this came from @shemarmooresfedora for giving Spencer compliment cards

Word Count: 2.6 K

I Can't Say Anything To Your Face

When Spencer checks his watch for the twelfth time that day, he can practically feel Derek’s eyes roll. He tries to cover up his action by picking at his sleeve, but that just seems to draw attention to the situation. Derek raises his eyebrows at Spencer, as if to tell him, I saw that.

When it comes to teasing Spencer, Derek doesn’t miss a beat.

The team, minus Derek and Spencer, continue to work diligently. JJ walks back and forth from her office to Hotch’s, constantly shuffling through piles and piles of paperwork. Emily seems to keep herself busy with the 33 tabs that she has open on her screen. Y/N, who’s tongue slips out of her teeth in concentration, doesn’t look up from her mound of case files. Spencer likes studying how each of the members of his team works, but he particularly likes to watch Y/N. She always sticks her tongue out when she’s deep in thought. Sometimes she’ll close her eyes and rub the butt of her palm against them. Other times she’ll push her glasses up on top of her head and her hair frames her face perfectly. Spencer couldn’t care less what she looked like or how she wore her hair, but watching her was his favorite part of the day.

In a totally platonic, non-creepy way.

A beep distracts Spencer from being distracted by Y/N. It’s an IM from Derek, telling him something to the effect of asking Y/N out. Instead of responding, Spencer decides to send Derek a more direct message. He shuts off his computer, which isn’t really used, besides for Y/N to send Spencer requests for online scrabble.

Spencer, ignoring Derek’s gloating, walks from the bullpen into the team’s lunch room. It’s a small kitchenette with a couple tables, a very old coffee machine, and an even older refrigerator. Peeking into the refrigerator, Spencer takes out two lunch boxes. One is light green with patterned purple and orange dinosaurs all over and the other is a light blue with green plants. Like clockwork, Y/N rounds the corner with a smile plastered to her face.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Spencer asks, placing his lunch box down across from Y/N’s seat.

“It’s just my favorite time of day,” Y/N responds, unzipping her bag and taking out her banana, water bottle, granola, and turkey sandwich.

Spencer tries to hold back his smile at Y/N saying that lunch is her favorite time of day. He likes to believe that it’s because of him and not because of the top tier kitchen facility the government provides for them. But who’s he kidding, there’s no way that lunch is Y/N favorite part of the day because of Spencer when he’s up against a crappy coffee maker.

“Did you know that sandwiches were only called sandwiches because the Earl of Sandwich ate his meals with bread, meat and cheese like modern day sandwiches? However, there’s much debate if sandwiches existed prior to this. Researchers actually believe that sandwiches were simply referred to as bread and meat or bread cheese, depending on the ingredients. There’s hundreds of works of literature that help to determine this,” Spencer says, as he unwraps his leftovers from dinner the previous night.

Y/N, who takes a bite of her turkey sandwich, listens intently to Spencer’s oral history of sandwiches. She starts to respond to Spencer, but before she can even get the chance, Derek interjects into the conversation.

“Hold your horses, there Reid,” Derek says, his voice tainted with sarcasm and Spencer braces himself for a clipping comment, “you don’t want to scare away the newbie,”

Y/N, ever quick witted, rolls her eyes dramatically at Derek. She gets up and moves her seat closer to Spencer who’s heart rate, at the thought of her sitting even closer to him, speeds up. He knows that it's just an effort to tease Derek. That she'd rather suffer next to Spencer, than to have to entertain the idea of sitting next to Derek. But still, Spencer is a dreamer; he'd like to think she'd sit next to him even without the added bonus at avoiding Derek's playful teasing.

“Derek, leave Spencer alone, I happen to adore his facts. You know, I’ve seen I’ve been here I’ve been a Jeopardy beast. And when are you going to realize that I’m not a newbie, I’ve been here for what 2 years-”

“2 years, 4 months, and 4 days,” Spencer says, cursing himself silently for interrupting Y/N.

Derek grabs his lunch from the refrigerator, and sits down across from Spencer and Y/N.

“You remember the day I started?” Y/N asks, turning her attention from Derek to Spencer, whose face is twisted in what he can only assume is an extremely unattractive deer-in-head-lights look. He shrugs off Y/N’s comment, as if to say it’s just normal for him.

"Of course I do, I remember how long each of us has been here,"

"Oh, right. Eidetic Memory," Y/N mumbles, almost like she's slightly disappointed in something.

Suddenly Spencer’s mouth is quite dry; he reaches into his lunch bag to grab his water bottle, but his fingers brush across a small card taped to the outside. Forgetting that showing the card to Morgan would give him enough ammunition for the rest of day, Spencer quickly scans the card. It’s a small piece of paper, but it suddenly has become Spencer’s most treasured object. More than the set of Chaucer tales that his mother gave him, or Gideon’s watch, or his first microscope that his biology teacher in high school gave him at his graduation.

The one side of the card is decorated in small hearts and there’s a sketch of a dinosaur on the other side. In careful handwriting, the giver of the card wrote “Are you made of Nickel, Cerium, Arsenic, and Sulfur? Because you got a NiCe AsS!”

Spencer’s eyes grow a couple sizes once his brain registers the meaning of the card. Handling it less than gracefully, he chokes on his water, which catches Derek and Y/N’s attention.

“You okay there, Spence?’ Derek asks, questioning what sent Spencer coughing and choking on water like that.

Spencer, not wanting Y/N or Derek, especially Derek, to read the card, attempts to put it in the front pocket of his lunch box. Unfortunately, Derek catches sight of the card and snatches it out of Spencer’s hand.

“Derek!” Spencer whines.

He can feel his embarrassment deepen as Morgan’s smile grows. Spencer seriously thinks that this is how he’s going to die. His death, being in his line of work, is something that plagues his thoughts from time to time, but any gory hero’s death pales in comparison to Derek Morgan reading Spencer’s love notes about his ass.

“Nice ass? I’m not too sure about this, Reid, but looks like your secret lover likes your ass just as much as your brains,” Derek teases, handing back Spencer his card.

“Those are private,” Spencer says, grateful that Derek’s going to leave him alone, places the card back in it’s temporary resting spot near his driver’s license and photographs of him and Y/N at the arcade.

“Hey man, I was just going to put in that shoe box you have tucked under your desk, you must have hundreds of them by now,” Derek says, taking a bite of his ham and cheese wrap. His eyes dash between Spencer and Y/N, like the pair of them is the most entertaining reality show he could think of.

��I have 645, now,” Spencer says, unable to help himself much to Derek’s amusement. Spencer hears the chair next to him screech and Y/N rushes to pack up her half eaten lunch.

“I completely forgot, Anderson needs me to uh, help him with something,” Y/N says, stuffing her water bottle into her lunch box in a flustered state. Spencer watches as she rushes, her need to leave the kitchenette quite evident. Spencer is left wondering why she has to go see Anderson, of all people.

“Anderson? What does he want with you? I don’t remember Hotch saying anything about that,” Spencer says, his voice comes off a little more bitter than he indented.

“Maybe Anderson has some extracurriculars that he needs Y/N’s help with Spencer,” Derek says with a wink. Spencer’s brow tightens and his blush deepens as if he’s trying to decipher the way that Derek’s voice is laced with suggestion. The only logical conclusion is that Y/N is flustered because she’s sneaking off to see Anderson, because she likes him.

Y/N likes Anderson? Something about that doesn’t taste right in Spencer’s mouth.

Like the wind, Y/N is gone and all that remains is Derek’s sly chuckle.

“What!” Spencer says, much too loud for him to continue the coy and unassuming demeanor he usually produces when Y/N gets hit on at the bar or on case by local cops.

“Nothing, Reid. You're just clueless. Just think about how many of those little compliment cards you’ve gotten,” Derek says. He reaches into Spencer’s lunch box and takes his brownie. Usually, Spencer would have protested, but Derek’s words sent him into a confused spiral.

“645,” Spencer responds.

“Okay,” Derek continues, “645 days you’ve gotten those cute little cards in your lunch box or taped to your hotel room door on cases. Now, Reid think. How many years, months, and days, is 645 days”

“That’s 2 years, 4 months, and 3 days,” Spencer starts, “now given if it’s a Leap Year that could change it a little bit bit-”

“Think about it Reid,” Derek says, talking slowly to get the words sink in and hoping that he doesn’t have to spell it out for him.

“Y/N?” Spencer asks, kind of like he can’t believe it, but desperately wants to believe it at the same time.

“Y/N,” Derek repeats, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long, Reid. She’s been making eyes at you the day she’s gotten here. It’s almost sickening to watch you to dance around each other,”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, it’s like he’s saying her name for the first time. It’s the most beautiful string of syllables to ever come from his lips.

Spencer pushes back the chair and swings the door open. As he walks to Y/N’s desk he gets distracted by the little brown shoe box that sticks out slightly from under his desk. He crouches down and picks it up, hoping that it can be helpful. He approaches Y/N’s desk, but JJ stops him before he can go closer.

“Stairwell,” Is all she says before she brushes past with an armful of case files. Spencer, heading JJ’s advice, practically runs to the stairwell. As he approaches he can hear quiet sobs, which he can only imagine are Y/N’s.

Spencer opens the door and Y/N, startled, stands up and tries to mop the tears away from her face.

“Spencer, oh god, I didn’t know you were here, I’m okay, it’s just me being a little silly,” she says, trying to laugh through what she can only assume is going to be rejection.

“I really hope you don’t think these are silly, well some are kind of silly, but others were very poetic,” Spencer says, taking a step forward and gesturing with the shoe box to make it obvious to Y/N that he’s talking about the compliment cards.

“What are you talking about, Spencer?” Y/N says, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You're much too smart to play dumb,” Spencer says, moving closer to Y/N so he can wipe her tear-stricken face with the sleeve of his soft cardigan. He tries not to focus on the way that Y/N seems to melt into his touch. He knows that if he can get another touch of that, he’ll never want to touch another person ever again.

“I’m not playing dumb, Spence. I just never planned for you to find out,” Y/N mumbles. Spencer’s face resembles a mix between shock and confusion.

“Why would you not tell me, I don’t think I made it anything but obvious that I’m crazy about you,” Spencer says, deeply wondering why Y/N would ever hide something like this from him.

“God Spencer, have you ever looked in a mirror?” Y/N asks him, sitting down on the third step, “you’re so gorgeous, Spencer, I can’t say anything to your face. So the next best thing was to write down everything that I wanted to say to you,” Y/N finishes, a little embarrassed. She tries to hide that embarrassment by not making eye contact with Spencer, who sits down next to her.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Spencer asks, not entirely sure that he heard her correctly.

Y/N peaks at him with teary eyes and a runny nose. Spencer thanks science and the universe for his Eidetic Memory. He knows that there won’t be a single day of his life that he won’t want to think back to this day and remember the way that Y/N looked when she first told him that she thinks he’s gorgeous.

“I think you’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen,” Y/N says breathily, her voice laced with restraint. She’s terrified of rejection, terrified that Spencer will turn her down still.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that,” Spencer says, equally as quiet and equally as terrified. He notices that Y/N’s hand creeps closer to his. Spencer is itching to intertwine it to his and never let go.

“You deserve to hear it more often, hence the cards,” Y/N explains, moving her hand even more closer to Spencer’s. He has no choice but to wrap his much larger one in Y/N’s smaller one.

“You meant it, right?” Spencer asks, bravely putting her heart out there on the line, “because if you did Y/N, that I’d really like to kiss you right now. But if you didn’t then that’s-”

Spencer tries to finish the sentence, to give Y/N an out, but somehow she doesn’t take it. Somehow she decides to kiss him.

Spencer has kissed a total of three people in his entire life, but none of them ever mattered again the second he feels Y/N’s lips against his and her hands in his hair. Spencer doesn’t complain when Y/N starts to set the pace. Her lips roam across his face. They venture across his jaw, up closer to his nose and then back down to his lips. Spencer had no clue Y/N can kiss like this. It's a little passionate for a first kiss, but maybe it's just the pent up tension and frustration 2 years in the making finally being let out. He's dreamt of the way that Y/N's pillowy lips would feel when they were finally pressed up against his. Spencer, from the fibers that make him up to the hormones that surge throughout his body, tries to be brave. He places his hands so they rest on Y/N’s neck. He’s not passive, but he’s happy to sit back and let Y/N have her way as she continues her feverish assault on his lips.

Her ministrations are interrupted, however, when the box of cards falls from Spencer’s lap. It seems to remind both of them that they are in the stairwell of the FBI making out like over zealous teenagers for the first time. Y/N lets out a small giggle. Spencer wishes he can write down the feeling it gives him and tuck it away safely in a shoe box.

“I hope you know that those compliments aren’t platonic, Spencer. I really do think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Y/N says, her fingers gravitating to the brown curls behind Spencer’s ears. He has the softest, silkiest hair she’s ever felt.

“That’s a good thing, Y/N, because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,”

Standing up, Y/N winks and pecks Spencer on the cheek, “I hate to break it to you, darling, but I think I win when it comes compliments,”

--Thank you for reading--

Taglist (Comment & I'll Happily Add You)

@shemarmooresfedora

@april-14-blog

@willowrose99

@calm-and-doctor

@spideygenius

@measure-in-pain

@nomajdetective

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader one shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader happy ending #criminal minds fanfiction

[stxphxn-strange]

(no) rest for the innocent

summary: Tony wasn’t even on trial, but the jury found him guilty and he couldn’t disagree.

a/n: idk last night i was thinking about tony dealing w survivor’s guilt after endgame (and IW) so i threw this together, tw for mention of death and implied thoughts of suicide

“Good evening, Doctor.” FRIDAY’s warm, pleasant voice always reminded Stephen of home and cinnamon scented candles. “How was your trip?” 

“Too long for a meeting that could’ve been handled over email. Or through carrier pigeon, as Tony would say,” Stephen replied as his cloak sailed off down the hall. 

He washed his hands carefully, drying them on an Iron Man dish towel that Peter had given them as a joke wedding gift before putting the kettle on. 

As the water was boiling, he noticed a covered plate on the kitchen counter. There was an obnoxiously orange piece of paper in front of it, which made Stephen smile. Tony always left him little notes on purposefully electrifying paper, that way they were easy to find. 

The sorcerer’s smile only widened as he read the note. 

Steph— 

I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, but I decided to make you dinner anyway. But not because I’m missing you and wanted to surprise you, I just accidentally cooked too much. You know how that happens sometimes and you just end up with an ungodly amount of chicken parm? Life’s funny like that. 

Anyway, I’m in the lab. I had some good ideas earlier and I wanted to start them while I still felt productive. Welcome home sweetheart, and if you go to bed before I do (because you probably will, you responsible asshole you), sweet dreams and goodnight. 

Love, Tones

PS— Orange you glad you met me? … don’t answer that, I just couldn’t help it and had to write that down. 

Stephen rolled his eyes fondly. “Fri, will you tell Tony that even though he’s not funny, I’m very glad I met him?” 

FRIDAY was quiet for a few moments before responding. “Boss says, quote, ‘fuck you Gandalf, I’m hilarious,’ unquote.” 

Stephen smiled, heating up his meal before sitting down to eat. He flipped through a magazine while he ate, FRIDAY turning on some soft jazz music as background noise until Stephen cleaned up and left the kitchen. After a refreshing shower, the sorcerer found himself in his most comfortable pjs and slippers as he walked through the house. Stephen wasn’t sure if he was going to bed yet, but he wanted to see Tony (and maybe he wanted a kiss or two or even three). 

The music in the lab automatically lowered when Stephen shut the door behind him, and Tony looked up with an expression that could only be described as tired. 

Actually, he looked exhausted. Weary. Barely holding himself together. Stephen wasn’t a thesaurus, but very concerned about his husband. 

Tony was trying to smile, but he seemed too exhausted to do that and just gave up, not saying anything as Stephen sat beside him. 

“Hi.” Stephen leaned over and softly kissed his husband’s temple. “Thanks for cooking for me, you didn’t have to.” 

Tony shrugged. “I had a lot of energy earlier, and I accidentally cooked way too much. Maybe it was intentional, you know I’d take any excuse to go out of my way for you.” 

His words said one thing, but his tone betrayed him. His voice was brittle, hard, and almost staticky. Stephen thought he sounded like a rusted hinge that was trying not to cry out for repairs… or maybe that analogy only made sense given where they were. 

Stephen kissed him again as Tony sat back at his desk, closing his well-used sketchbook. “You alright?” 

“Yeah. Tired I guess.” Tony sounded as unconvinced as Stephen felt. 

“Come to bed with me,” Stephen offered. “I’ll bore you to sleep by telling you about the meeting.” 

Tony laughed hollowly. “That bad?” 

“I don’t know how to describe it, but it was a waste of time. Even Wong was bored, and he watches the Antiques Roadshow remake for fun,” Stephen replied. He yawned and leaned against Tony’s side. 

“I see what you’re doing,” Tony murmured, trying to be lighthearted. He was just feeling some kind of way right now, he felt serious and was so endeared by his husband that it hurt. 

“What am I doing?” Stephen asked, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. 

“Being cute and sweet so I’ll go to bed and let you be the big spoon,” Tony accused. “And maybe I just really fucking need a hug, but… it’s working.” 

Stephen shifted and pulled Tony into his arms, holding the mechanic close as he went lax. 

“My Boss Is Singing Closing Time Protocol please, Fri,” Tony mumbled. 

“Goodnight Boss, goodnight Doctor,” the AI replied, beginning to run the lab’s standard closing protocol. 

“Portal?” Stephen asked. Tony was getting better with going through portals, but some days were harder than others. Stephen didn’t know what tonight would be like and opted to ask, selfishly wanting to make sure Tony got some rest as soon as possible. 

He was so out of it by that point that Stephen wasn’t sure if Tony registered the question, but he nodded slowly and trusted Stephen to lead him through it and into their bed. 

Despite “resembling a sloth clinging to a tree bough,” (Tony’s words) Stephen was intuitive and knew when not to hug Tony. Even when he was asleep, if Tony woke up thrashing or fighting against something in a dream, Stephen let him go. 

Tonight was a bit different. Stephen wasn’t brought to the edge of reality by Tony thrashing in their bed or accidentally tangling himself in their sheets, so he assumed everything was fine. That was until the sorcerer hugged his husband closer, still mostly asleep and just following his instinct, and Tony outright begged Stephen to let go of him. He wasn’t quite awake, but Stephen backed off immediately and heard Tony trip over his own feet as he left the room. The sorcerer fell asleep again after that, trying to stop the sound of Tony’s broken plea from cementing itself in his memory. When Tony climbed back into bed some time later, Stephen was stirring a little bit more. Tony hid his face in Stephen’s collarbone and said nothing, his breathing still slightly erratic. 

“Sorry if I woke you up,” he mumbled. 

“Don’ be,” Stephen replied, his voice unsure whether or not to wake up. 

“Will you hold me again?” Tony asked pleadingly, his voice almost imperceptible. 

Stephen wordlessly obliged, kissing the top of his head. “Whatever’s bothering you… you can talk to me about it. When you’re ready. And you don’t have to, but I’m here for you.” 

Tony nodded. “It feels like too much right now. What I’m thinking about, I mean. I need time to process, I guess.” 

“Okay,” Stephen said simply. “But I’m here for you whenever.”

“I know. I love you,” Tony replied. 

Stephen began to trace soothing patterns on Tony’s back. “Love you Tones.” 

++++

Tony didn’t seem any more rested the next day, but his confident Tony Stark™ pose seemed natural. He’d easily be able to fool people who didn’t know him as well as his family did. So it was a “fake it until you make it” kind of day, and Tony’s energy was on a strict schedule. There was only so much he could take today, and if his teammates wanted to call him selfish then that was their choice. 

It would just go in one ear and out the other, especially this late in the day and after brutal team training. Tony was close to skipping the meeting, but a cutting remark in the hallway made him change his mind. Why did they always act like it was breaking news when Tony needed to step back from something anyway? He was just as human as anyone else, and the world was happy to throw responsibilities on his unenhanced, steady shoulders just because he was a natural caretaker. 

The arguments about Tony’s quiet, withdrawn demeanor started two minutes into the meeting. Stephen was ready to defend his husband as soon as they got to the conference room, Tony collapsing into a chair and leaning his head against the cool metal of the table. 

He didn’t want to talk today, and Stephen didn’t want him to. 

“It’s not nap time, Stark.” There was a small hint of fondness in Natasha’s cold, clipped voice. 

Tony was already regretting his decision to show up, wishing he hadn’t told Stephen again and again that he was fine. He wasn’t, and they both knew it. Everyone knew it, but Tony knew better than to advocate for himself in front of his… colleagues. 

“I don’t even remember what we’re meeting about,” Tony muttered, looking up enough to address whoever was talking to him. 

Rhodey took a seat beside Tony, encouragingly patting his back. “You good?” 

“I’m fine, Honeybear,” Tony replied. He was sitting between his two favorite people, and that helped him feel a little more grounded. “I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Someone scoffed. “I don’t think anyone’s slept right in months. And don’t say you haven’t slept in years, Stark. We don’t need a story about how everything you’ve ever done has led to years of sleepless nights. We know already. Put it in a book or something and make the team more money so I can have better arrows.” 

Stephen was two seconds away from dropping the archer into the Dark Dimension, or flipping a table. He wasn’t sure how to handle the man yet, still taken aback by the rudeness and stupidity of his comment. “Barton, what the fuck—” 

“Steph, don’t bother with him,” Tony said. He stood up, forcing his tiredness into a corner and giving his coworkers a confident glare. “Pardon me for giving it my all and being a bit tired as a result. Now I’m going to get an ice pack for my shoulder and maybe a cup of coffee. Does anyone want anything?” 

“I’ll take a—”

“Get it yourself, you know where the kitchen is.” 

For dramatic effect (and moral support), the cloak landed on Tony’s shoulders and billowed out as he left the room. He returned with the aforementioned ice and coffee, and a mug of tea for Stephen. 

“You didn’t have to do that sweetheart, but thank you,” Stephen said appreciatively. 

“That’s why I wanted to,” Tony replied. He relaxed a little into his chair, starting to believe he could get through the meeting. 

Then, like clockwork, Clint opened his mouth to complain. 

“Why did you bring him tea and nothing for the rest of us?” He whined. 

“Doesn’t Tony do enough for you?” Stephen asked, innocently taking a sip of his tea. It was his afternoon green tea, made exactly the way he liked it. 

Tony was always so sweet and attentive with his loved ones, it warmed Stephen’s heart. The sorcerer stifled a laugh as Rhodey poured half of Tony’s coffee into his own empty mug. 

“Thank you,” the colonel said impishly. “Consider the roommate tax paid for this month.” 

Tony tried to smile at the old inside joke, but Stephen noticed that it fell flat. 

“Are we done with the interruptions? We need to talk about what’s out there. We don’t know if Thanos is the exception or the rule, and—”

Tony stopped listening. Clint’s snootiness was doing his head in, but the idea of another threat, another thing, another colossus he’d have to conquer and survive if his luck had anything to say about it… that was the breaking point. 

Tony didn’t have a good relationship with luck. He didn’t really believe in it, but apparently it believed in him. Because Tony was lucky. It was true that he was lucky in meeting his husband, his friends, and his family, but this was a different kind of luck. Tony was intelligent and skilled, shrewd and savvy, and there was virtually nothing he couldn’t do or solve, except for one thing. 

He was constantly lucky, constantly cheating death. 

And he didn’t realize that he was hyperventilating, didn’t recall dropping his head into his hands. He didn’t recall that he’d just walked out in the middle of the meeting after a minute, didn’t realize that he was home when he opened his eyes. 

Tony was home, in his spot on the couch in Stephen’s library. Stephen was sitting beside him, quietly watching a documentary or something like that. Tony was laying down, his head in Stephen’s lap with the cloak draped over him like a blanket. The crimson fabric continued to cling to him as he sat up, further proving Tony’s point that Levi liked him best, but he wasn’t in the mood to banter now. He just appreciated the support and the warmth of his sorcerer and their shared, sentient blanket.

With some hesitancy, Tony leaned over and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. They locked eyes for a minute, Tony’s gaze deliriously bright and vacant. 

Stephen didn’t know what to say or do to make the man trembling in his arms feel better, but started by hugging him closer and softly stroking up and down his spine. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, lowering his head and hiding against Stephen’s chest. 

“No apologies,” Stephen reminded him. “I don’t want or need them, and you don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“I have to give a good reason,” Tony said, his voice beginning to shake. “Everything I do needs a reason.” 

“Why? Says who?” Stephen asked. He was more thinking aloud, half expecting Tony to leave the question unanswered. 

For a while, he did. He just sat, furiously trying to blink back tears and gather his thoughts as Stephen held him protectively. 

“Sometimes I think about… things,” Tony began vaguely. “And people. And places. I guess I just like nouns.” 

At this point, he didn’t even know if he was trying to deflect or just tell a joke, but his attempt at humor fell flat. He tried to force a laugh, but halfway through it turned into a painful sob. He cried harder with each breath, ignoring the ache in his chest. Tony barely listened when Stephen encouraged him to breathe, but eventually he gave into his exhaustion and listened to his lungs. 

His stupid lungs, which apparently were just as stubborn as his brain. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” Tony whispered. “I shouldn’t have survived Afghanistan, New York, Sokovia, Siberia, or Titan. I can’t keep cheating death, Stephen. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be lucky and survive when the damage I’ve caused, the damage I claim full responsibility for, has taken so many lives. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt or killed for me.” 

Stephen pressed a soft kiss to his hair, feeling Tony’s guit and fatigue as if it was his own. 

“I don’t want to do this,” Tony repeated. “I’m probably just spiraling or being needlessly selfish, but  I… I don’t know.” 

“You’re taking on too much responsibility where you don’t need to,” Stephen said. “I know that’s easy for me to just say from the outside, but you aren’t the only Avenger. It’s about time the team, if you can even call them that, takes accountability for their actions and stops bulldozing you with their problems. You aren’t selfish, Tones. You’re tired and overworked, and you deserve a break. You deserve to breathe, to just exist without feeling like you have to look over your shoulder or justify your every step.” 

“I don’t think I know how to even do that anymore,” Tony replied. “And I don’t deserve it.” 

“You do,” Stephen argued. “And rest assured I’ll keep telling you that. And I’ll keep telling you how much I love you, because I really do.” 

Tony smiled sadly, trying to press himself closer to Stephen if that was even possible. “I love you too.” 

He was starting to settle down, soothed by a flurry of soft kisses in his hair and the gentle brushes up and down his spine, when FRIDAY quietly spoke up. She almost sounded remorseful. 

“Mister Parker is requesting one or both of you in the lab, whenever it’s convenient,” she began. “And he’s asked me to assure you that it’s nothing major.” 

Tony sighed, sitting up again. “I’ll investigate.” 

Stephen shook his head. “No, let me. I’ll tell Peter that you’re resting, and he’ll understand.” 

“I don’t want him to think I don’t care,” Tony whispered. 

“He would never think that. You know how he gets about making sure you take care of yourself, and Peter knows with certainty that you care about him. Our son is much more mature than the Avengers,” Stephen replied. 

“I still feel bad,” Tony said. 

“I know. I can promise him Thai food if that’ll make you feel better?” Stephen suggested, half jokingly. 

“It actually would,” Tony admitted. “FRIDAY, will you schedule a Thai food delivery for 6:30pm please?” 

“Scheduled,” she replied simpy. She still sounded apologetic for disturbing them right as Tony was falling asleep, but maybe Stephen imagined that. 

The sorcerer stood up gracefully, covering Tony with another blanket as the cloak wrapped a bit tighter around him. “Look after yourself and relax, or get some sleep. No one’s expecting anything from you right now Tones, alright? I love you.” 

Tony nodded, a little smile on his face as Stephen kissed him again. “Love you.” 

He really wanted to sleep. He actually put effort into falling asleep, which was something he never thought he’d do, and of course sleep didn’t come easily. Sleep never came easily, but the memories did. It was all too easy for Tony to get caught in a thought stream, whether he was planning a surprise, inventing, or remembering unpleasantries. Today he was overwhelmed by guilt, readily convincing himself that he was a selfish failure like Howard Stark and his teammates liked to say. It was too easy to get lost in their ire and wanting to please everyone, and Tony had given up so much of his agency just to try and make other people happy. 

It was exhausting, and he didn’t even feel like he’d succeeded at that. 

The mechanic started tearing up again as he continued to think in a circular pattern, faintly aware of the Cloak trying to comfort him. It was a sweet, welcome gesture, and Tony let it happen and let himself cry. He was still laying there in tears when Stephen came back in half an hour later.

“Pete says he hopes you feel better,” Stephen said, returning to his spot and pulling Tony close. “And I told him to just go ahead and eat whenever he’s hungry, or when the food gets here.” 

Tony just nodded, feeling relieved and supported in Stephen’s arms again. He nodded again, as if trying to shake the unending self-deprecating thoughts from his head, before saying anything. “Sounds good.”

tags: @salty-ironstrange-shipper @stark-strange-love2 @chocopiggy @katninjagirl97 @kitkatfat15 @taruyison @funkylittlebidiot

#tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #not endgame compliant #non infinity war compliant #peter parker #ironstrange and spiderson #not avengers friendly lowkey #not clint barton friendly #james rhodey rhodes #tw mention of character death #tw death mention #tw sui mention

[lovesdarkness]

Star Crossed - Chapter 2

Warnings: Nothing for this one. Pretty safe. Maybe a slight bit of angst near the end, but nothing overly big.

If you would like to be added to the tag list to be notified when new chapters are up, feel free to let me know

Word count: 8355

previous chapter  -  next chapter

Chapter Two

Everything was so blurry and distorted that Lyra had to blink as she looked around. Rubbing her eyes didn’t help and it was frustrating. Looking down the hall she thought she could see the faint figures of Sirius and his brother. Were they talking? She couldn’t tell. Everything sounded like it was under water and she couldn’t make out any words they said. She tried walking towards them but for some reason she couldn’t get close. It was like she was stuck walking in place.

“Bloody hell…” she muttered to herself as she gave up trying to approach them. When she turned to head down the hall she blinked and found herself in the Gryffindor common room. Looking around she saw Lily, James, and Remus sitting by the fire talking. Her ability to walk suddenly restored, she approached them, standing next to Remus. 

“With everything that’s going on in the world and the war looming over us, I’m worried about the well being of the other students. Especially the young ones,” Lily said as she looked around at them. “I found a fifth year girl in the bathroom crying because she’s so stressed about everything.”

“I overheard some of the younger students in the library too. They’re so scared that it’s affecting their ability to focus on their classes.” Remus said with a frown. “They’re still kids, they shouldn’t be worried about things like war. They should be laughing and having fun with their friends. They should be acting like kids.”

James had remained silent, nodding his agreement. Letting out a sigh he reached up to rub his face. “I feel like as Head Boy and Girl we should be able to help them. But what can we do?” he asked, looking around at them all helplessly.

“What if we provide distractions?” Lyra spoke up, everyone looking at her. “Like try and arrange some activities every week. My Muggle friends have dances for almost everything at their schools. They have a Halloween dance and a Christmas dance before the winter holiday. A Valentine's Day dance. We could do an end of the year talent show. Maybe things like that would help distract all the students and cheer them up.”

“Those are all wonderful ideas Lyra!” Lily exclaimed with a grin. “Maybe Dumbledore should have made you Head Girl instead.”

Her face flushing dark Lyra shook her head. “Oh I don’t know about that. James might get upset.” 

Everyone laughed at the comment till they heard the click of the common room door. Looking over they saw Peter scurry in looking rather troubled.

“Hey Pete, what’s up?” James asked.

“Have any of you seen Sirius?” Peter asked as he stopped in front of them. He wrung his hands as he looked among them with anxious eyes. “I heard he got into a horrible row with Regulus earlier, and he hasn’t been seen since. I’ve looked for him everywhere but I can’t find him.”

Everyone shook their heads as they looked around at each other then back to Peter. “No we haven’t seen him,” James said. “Don’t worry though I’m sure he’ll turn up. He might just need some time alone is all.”

“Yeah you know how Sirius gets,” Lily said. “He’s very guarded with his feelings and doesn’t like people seeing when he’s upset or angry. When he’s ready he’ll come to us.”

Lyra nodded as she looked over at Lily. When she turned her head back to Peter the five of them were standing in Dumbledore’s office. They were all lined up in front of his desk while the headmaster looked at them solemnly over his half moon spectacles.  Professor McGonagall stood next to him with a somber expression on her face.

“Thank you all for coming as quickly as you did.” came Dumbledore’s soft voice as his eyes fell upon each of them. “I’m afraid the news that I have to break to you is rather...difficult.”

The five of them all looked around at each other with looks of curiosity and confusion before looking back to the headmaster. Something was wrong, they could tell. They could feel it. Why were the looks in both professors eyes so heartbreaking?

“What exactly is going on Professor?” James asked, voicing what they all were thinking. “And where’s Sirius? Why isn’t he here? We haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

They watched as McGonagall sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. Her hand grasped the desk to steady herself and for a moment they thought that she might collapse. “Tell them, Albus.” she said, her voice broken.

“Tell us what?” Remus asked, an anxious tone to his voice. Anxiety that they all were feeling.

��That is why I have called you all here.” Dumbledore answered, sliding his chair back and getting to his feet. “You are all Mr. Black’s closest friends, which is why I called you here so I could tell you personally before it is announced to the rest of the school.”

All of their voices came out in a chorus as they spoke over each other.

“Tell us what?” 

“Announce what?” 

“What is it?” 

“Where’s Sirius?” 

“Tell us Professor…”

Feeling her heart start pounding in fear Lyra brought her hands up and clutched them to her chest. She suddenly found it hard to breathe as a terrified feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. There was a reason Sirius wasn’t there, and she didn’t know why but it made her feel sick.

The group fell silent as Dumbledore held his hand up. “I’m afraid there has been...an incident.” The headmaster started, looking to each one of them once more. “It seems that sometime last night Mr. Black took a tumble from the balcony of the Astronomy tower. He...his body was found this morning…”

“Wait WHAT? NO!” James screamed. “No you’re lying...it’s not true!”

All the air seemed to be sucked out of Lyra’s lungs, and she couldn’t pull any in. She dropped to her knees feeling like she was suffocating. The voices of everyone in the room faded away to a deafening silence. Sirius? Dead? He couldn’t be. If he was she wanted to die right along with him. As she looked around everything blurred together and faded till there was nothing but darkness and all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears. Or was it wind?

Lyra’s eyes snapped open as she let out a strangled gasp.

“Sirius!” she cried out, bolting up in her bed. Clutching her hands to her heart as it raced she gasped and panted for breath. Her eyes darted around in fear and confusion before realizing that she was in her dorm, safe in her bed, and it was the middle of the night. Letting out a sigh of relief she lay back on her pillow and closed her eyes, her hand coming to rest on her forehead.

Another one of those damn dreams. It was so bloody vivid she could have sworn it was real. Letting out a groan she rolled over in her bed and reached for the clock on her nightstand. It was 12:30 in the morning. 

“Seriously?” she whined as she flopped back onto her pillow, draping her arm over her eyes. Then like clockwork the ache started. It pressed into the middle of her forehead and quickly spread up to her crown and around to her temples. Just like every other time she had one of those dreams. They’d been happening off and on for the last three years, at first she’d only have one every three or four months. But now they were coming with more frequency, at least 3 a month. And with the increased frequency came the increased intensity of the headaches afterwards. In the beginning she’d get nothing more than a dull ache. Now it felt like her head was splitting open. 

“Hey Lils do you have any aspirin?” she called out. “Lils?” 

Then she remembered that Lily wasn’t there anymore. She was head girl now, which meant that she was living in the Head Dorm with James. Lyra was crushed when she had learned about the change in sleeping arrangements, as Lily was the only person she shared her room with. They had been the only two girls sorted into Gryffindor their year. Best friends from the start, always together. And now she was alone.

Sitting up in her bed she looked around the room and frowned. The view was depressing. It was so dark and cold without Lily there, and she felt so lonely without anyone to talk to. At that moment it was just too much and she had to get out of there.

“If there’s any house elves floating around, something to get rid of this headache would be wonderful.” she muttered as she climbed out of bed to fetch her pale blue housecoat, pulling it on. Grabbing her wand she slipped it into the pocket before heading out of the room and making her way down the stairs to the common room.

The room was infinitely better than her dark and empty dorm. The lights were off but a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, casting a warm orange glow around the space. As she walked over to the couch an amused smile crept across her lips as she spotted a blanket folded up at the end of the couch with a potion bottle on top of it and a note from one of the house elves. She took a sniff of the potion before drinking it down and sitting on the couch. Grabbing the blanket she wrapped it around herself as she curled up by the warmth of the fire.

“Guess I’ll sleep down here…” she muttered to herself as she lay back on the couch and rested her head against the pillows. The potion worked quickly to ease the splitting pain in her skull but no matter how hard she tried she could not fall asleep. Her mind was just too noisy. Sitting up she leaned against her knees and raked her fingers through her hair. She didn’t see herself getting to sleep any time soon and needed something to distract herself. And there was only one thing that came to mind.

Reaching for her wand she swished it in the air. “Accio ballet slippers.” she muttered. As she waited for the garments to float down the stairs she turned to the couches and the table. “I’m gonna need some space…” she murmured to herself as she swished her wand again, and with a quick charm the couches and tables all moved to the other side of the room and stacked themselves up against the wall. When she turned around the slippers were sitting in front of the fireplace.

Sitting on the floor she grabbed the slippers and bent them back and forth a little before slipping them onto her feet and fastening the ribbons around her ankles. Pointing her wand to the wireless the sound of classical music started floating faintly around the room. Closing her eyes a smile spread across her lips as she started swaying back and forth, letting the notes consume her as she started stretching and warming up. 

When she got to her feet she stretched each leg up above her head before going through the various foot positions. “First position...second position...third position…” she’d murmur to herself as she moved her feet and arms through each position. Once she had gone through the basics she moved on to the more advanced techniques as the music played, pointing her feet and extending her arms. She reached forward and she reached back, going up en pointe a few times. This was the one thing she missed the most when she was away at school. It felt good to put some music on and dance her worries away for a few hours.

A few pieces played as she made up her own steps, pirouetting in the middle of the room. But it was when the main theme for Swan Lake started to play that she felt joy spring into her chest. It was her favourite production, and for some reason she identified with the sad and heartbroken Princess Odette. Closing her eyes she let the music take over her as she danced to it, arms raised as she took graceful pointed steps around the room. She twirled and leapt around, her arms held out gracefully as her feet fluttered across the floor. They seemed to move all of their own accord, arms raising and lowering like feathers as she lost herself to the music.

As the music started to take on a more dramatic pace, and so did her dance. Holding her arms out in a circle in front of her she stepped and twirled across the floor on her toes at a quick pace, her bathrobe fanning out around her. She was still en pointe when she finished her last turn and she leaned forward putting all her weight on one foot, her other leg extending up behind her as she reached an arm forward. When she opened her eyes she was shocked to see Sirius standing in the stairway. Letting out a surprised gasp she lost her balance and tumbled to the floor.

"Ow…" She groaned as she pushed herself up. After choking back a laugh Sirius was instantly at her side. 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." He whispered. Flashing his wand the furniture all flew back to where it belonged as he easily lifted her up into his arms and walked over to the couch. "Are you ok?" He asked as he set her down on the soft surface, looking her over for any injuries. 

"I think I banged up my knee a bit." Lyra said with a wince. Untying her robe she opened it up to inspect her knee and sure enough there was a bruise and a slight bump forming. "It doesn't seem to be too bad though. It hurts but I think I'll live."

Reaching forward to gently take her leg into his hands, Sirius frowned as he brushed his thumb over the discolouration before casting his eyes to her. "I have just the thing to help." He said, giving her a flirty wink before leaning down and pressing his lips to her knee.

Lyra's eyes went wide and she choked back a gasp, her whole body going warm and flushing from the action. She closed her eyes as she felt a tingle where his lips touched. It took everything she had to not reach out and slip her fingers through his hair. "Sirius…" she whispered, her mind racing with questions. Why was he doing this? Was it just his usual tormenting and teasing? He did like to fluster her, he admitted so himself. But now with the knowledge of how she felt, why was he doing it? Was this just meant to be his normal teasing as if nothing had changed? Or despite his claims that he didn’t want to be involved with anyone, was this something more? 

Confusion whirled through her mind and her heart as she tried to silence the onslaught of intrusive thoughts. Damn her anxiety for making her over think every single small action. When she opened her eyes again he was looking up at her from where he knelt on the floor, gently cradling her leg in his hands.

“Better?” he asked innocently with wide, hopeful eyes. It was clear then that he was still oblivious to the effect his actions had on her.

Swallowing the nervous lump in her throat Lyra smiled and nodded. “Yes, all better.” she assured him as she pulled her leg from his grasp and covered it with her housecoat again. “What are you doing up?” she asked after clearing her throat, trying to put the oddly intimate moment out of her mind. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Sirius chuckled, moving to take a place next to her on the couch. He draped his arm along the back of the couch as he reached for a stray strand of her hair, twirling it around his fingers. “I woke up a while ago and thought I heard music playing down here. I came to investigate and found you down here twirling about.” He raised his other hand and pointed, twirling it in a circle.

Lyra’s eyes widened slightly and she bit her lip. “How long were you watching?”

“For a while. You were so mesmerizing, I couldn’t tear my eyes away,” Sirius admitted, his voice soft. “Lyra I had no idea you could dance like that, it was so…breathtaking.”

Her face flushing dark at the comment Lyra grinned uncontrollably. “Sirius stop…” she simpered, giggling as she reached up to cover her face.

“Stop hiding Lyra!” Sirius growled in response. Slipping off the couch he moved to kneel in front of her, reaching out to grab her wrists and pull her hands away from her face. He ignored her shocked look as he continued. “Stop hiding yourself. You do it every time I or someone else compliments you. Take the compliment, wear it like a badge of pride. You are unbelievably talented in so many ways. See it in yourself and strut it for all the world to see.”

Lyra stared at him with wide eyes, still shocked at the sudden change of tone he gave her. “O-ok…” she managed to croak out.

Sirius watched her before letting out a sigh. “Lyra, do you love dancing?” he asked, his expression softening. She nodded. “How does dancing make you feel?”

Lowering her head she chewed on her lip as she thought about his question. “Happy. Free,” she answered after a short silence. “For a moment, beautiful.”

“...you don’t think you’re beautiful?” He asked. There was a long silence from her, and when she lowered her face and shook her head his eyebrows rose in surprise before he frowned. “Look at me.” He said. He felt a tightness in his chest when she shook her head again and refused. “Don’t make me go through this again like on the train...look at me.” He felt her arms start to tremble in his grasp as a soft sob reached his ears. 

“I’m just plain.” Came a barely audible whimper.

He felt his heart break. Releasing her wrists from his grasp Sirius reached out to place a hand on either side of her head, forcing her tear stained face to look up at him. “Shut up and listen to me, and I’ll repeat it as many times as necessary,” he said slowly, licking his lips as he gathered his thoughts. “You are beautiful, Lyra. You are the most beautiful person in this entire fucking school. Do you hear me? You honestly think those tarts caked in makeup and short skirts are beautiful? No...they’re not. They’re vapid and shallow with ugly hearts and the only thing they’re good for is a shag. And trust me sometimes they’re not even good for that. Your beauty shines far brighter than they could ever wish.”

Lyra sniffed and sucked in a breath as she listened to him, her bottom lip trembling as more tears slipped down her cheeks. Slowly she reached her hands up to cover his, her fingers wrapping around his wrists.

Sirius swallowed as his eyes wandered over her face, his thumbs gently caressing her tears away as he continued. “You are special, and beautiful. Any man would be lucky to…”

“Sirius stop!” 

He instantly fell silent, realizing then what he was about to say. How could he be so foolish? Here he was trying so hard to support and encourage her, he’d momentarily forgotten about the feelings she harboured for him. He could see the hurt written across her features plain as day. How could he sit there and tell her that any man would be the luckiest to have her, when the one her heart wanted was sitting right in front of her? And he was completely incapable of loving her the way she deserved. 

I really need to be more careful. 

He released his hold on her, pulling his hands away and giving her space. “I’m sorry. I’m a huge fucking idiot...I can’t believe I…” he shook his head as he let out a sigh, leaning back on his legs. “I’m just not used to...I sometimes forget that you…”

“It’s ok.” Lyra said, shaking her head. She swallowed as she reached up to wipe her face with the sleeves of her housecoat. He had assured her that he wouldn’t let her feelings make things awkward between them. But more and more over the few short weeks since that day on the train she was starting to wonder if it truly was possible. Once her face was dry of tears she lowered her hands to look at him, he was watching her anxiously. “Really Sirius...I promise it’s ok.” she assured him, reaching down to pat the spot on the couch next to her.

“Alright.” he answered, moving to sit next to her. “I mean it though...I mean all of it. I swear. You’re beautiful and talented. Don’t hide it. Be bold, proudly flaunt it for everyone to see.”

Lyra just shook her head and smiled, leaning over to rest her head against his shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll try. Promise.” As much as her heart hurt at that moment, the one thing that helped ease the ache in her chest was knowing how much he cared. 

And that he thought she was beautiful.

Turning his head he gently kissed her crown, checking the time on a nearby clock before reaching an arm around to drape over her shoulder. “It’s nearly three am. You still need to tell me what you are doing up at this hour.”

Lyra let out a groan as she raised her head, reaching up to rub at her forehead. She didn’t want to talk about the headache inducing dreams, especially that new one. It would just worry him more. “I just...can’t sleep,” she said with a shrug, looking over to him. “Lily and I didn’t have any other dorm mates, it was just me and her. And now that she’s gone to the head dorm the room is just...too quiet and empty. It’s depressing. There’s no one to talk to. I’m really lonely up there all by myself.” 

Hearing the situation she was in made Sirius frown. “That’s...not good at all,” he said, gently rubbing her arm. “I mean I’d love to go up and keep you company, Remus snores louder than my bike engine and it can be quite annoying. But, boys can’t go up into the girls' dorms.” he said, smiling when Lyra laughed a little.

“Oh so that’s the noise I hear ringing through the stairwell every night?” she asked with a playful grin. “My room is so silent I can hear him perfectly.”

“I’m going to tell him you said that.” he smirked.

“Don’t you dare.”

Sirius just grinned and winked. “You know, you could always come up to our room during the times where you feel a little too lonely,” he continued with the previous train of thought. “With James in the head dorm with Lily, there’s a spare bed now. I’m sure Remus and Peter wouldn’t mind.”

Lyra flushed dark at the suggestion, biting her lip. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that. It’s the boys dorm…” she whispered. 

That was something Sirius hadn’t thought about. It was one thing to go up and visit and sit with them, but sleeping in the same room was an entirely different matter. “Well, think about it at least. But in the meantime, did you want me to stay down here with you tonight?” he asked, reaching up to slip his fingers through her hair. “If you don’t want to go back to your lonely room I mean. We could curl up on the couch together, or you could sleep on the couch and I can sleep on the floor. In the morning I’ll wake you up before everyone comes down so you can go get ready for class.”

“There’s two couches you know.” Lyra pointed out.

“Yeah I know. I just thought you might want me to stay close. We did promise to stay close to each other and protect each other after all.” 

“We did, didn’t we,” Lyra answered softly, biting her lip. Turning her head she looked along the couch. “Well...I don’t think we both would fit on the couch together.” 

“I’m sure we can manage,” Sirius said with a chuckle. Standing up briefly he moved them around a bit so they’d fit on the couch together better. Leaning back against the arm of the couch he reached for the blanket and draped it around her as he situated her between his legs, pulling her forward to lay against his chest. “How’s that? Are you comfy?” he asked, reaching up to stroke the back of her head.

To say Lyra was nervous was an understatement. Her face was flushed dark and her heart raced as she lay her head against his chest. “Yes, this is nice.” she whispered, smiling as she listened to his heart. She closed her eyes and let out a content sigh, cuddling into him as his arms wrapped around her. 

“Good,” he whispered back, twirling a strand of her hair around his fingers. Leaning his head forward he kissed the top of her head. “Get some sleep now love.”

No matter how she tried though sleep wouldn’t come. That dream she had was still replaying in her head. Haunting her. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she remembered the pain she’d felt in her chest.

 “I had a dream that you died...you were dead…” came her soft whisper a short while later, followed by a sniffle.

Sirius’ eyebrows raised in shock as he looked down at her. “What?”

“Yeah, it felt so real. Dumbledore had called us all to his office...except you weren’t there,” she whispered. “He told us you had died. My chest hurt and I couldn’t breathe. I thought that if you were dead I wanted to die too.” 

Sirius closed his eyes as he tightened his arms around her. No wonder she had been down here. If he’d had a dream that one of his friends had died, he wouldn’t have been able to get back to sleep either. Leaning forward he kissed the top of her head once more. “I’m so sorry love,” he whispered, rubbing her back in an effort to comfort her. “It was just a dream. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

“Promise?” she asked. Her voice was soft and meek, almost like a child's.

He couldn’t help but smile at the question. “Promise,” he assured her, nuzzling into her hair. “Now go to sleep, love. Please? You need to rest.” he insisted. 

“Alright. Goodnight Siri.” she said, letting out a sleepy yawn.

Sirius lay there watching the fire, listening to the soft sound of her breathing as she drifted off to sleep. Letting his head fall back against the couch he closed his eyes, reaching a hand up to cradle the back of her head as she lay against his chest. He may not have been able to love her, not in the way she needed anyway. He didn’t know how. But he damn well would do everything in his power he could to keep her safe. 

*

When he opened his eyes again the fire had long gone out. He looked around blearily to see the faint blue of the sky outside the window starting to lighten as morning came. After letting out a yawn he looked down at the girl that was curled up against him fast asleep. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly as he watched her, reaching up to slip his fingers through her hair as it fanned out over his chest. She looked so peaceful as she slept that he hated the thought of having to wake her, especially when she’d been having such a hard time sleeping.

He gave her a little bit longer to sleep before he felt they were cutting it close. The last thing he wanted was someone coming down and seeing them in this position. He didn’t need rumours floating about that she had slept with him in anything but a purely platonic manner. Reaching his hand up he slipped his fingers through her hair before brushing them down along her cheek. “Lyra,” he whispered, tenderly stroking her cheek before reaching down to squeeze her shoulder. “Come on love it’s time to wake up.”

Lyra let out a soft groan as she shifted in his arms. “Not yet…” she mumbled, pressing her face into his chest. After a brief moment though something clicked in her head. She wasn’t in her room, she wasn’t in her bed. She was with Sirius. Her eyes snapped open and her head shot up as she looked at him with sleep induced confusion. “Huh...what…”

Sirius let out a laugh and shook his head. “Do you not remember anything from last night?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He watched as her brows furrowed together for a moment but saw the moment her memory slowly came back to her and a small smile formed. “Yeah,” he laughed with a nod, his hand reaching up to brush her long messy hair out of her face. “Did you sleep well?” 

Moving to pull out of his embrace and sit up Lyra nodded as she stretched her arms over her head. “Yeah I did actually. Better than I have in ages.” She let out a yawn and raked her fingers through her hair. “I should sleep with you more often.” As soon as the words left her lips she froze, face flushing dark as she looked at him with wide eyes. “I mean...I...um…” she sputtered.

Throwing his head back and barking out a laugh Sirius shook his head before sitting up and leaning over to her. “I know what you meant,” he said as he leaned in to kiss the side of her head. “Now get upstairs and go get dressed. I have to go talk to James for a minute, but I’ll see you at breakfast.” She blushed and nodded, giving him a smile before getting to her feet and heading up to the girls dorms. Letting out a sigh he watched her go and headed up to his own room.

Remus was just climbing out of bed as he walked in and his friend gave him a confused look. “What are you doing up already?” he asked with a look of bewilderment. In the mornings it usually took much prodding and poking at Sirius before he would finally get out of bed. 

“Long story that I don’t have time to get into right now.” Sirius said with a wave of his hand as he walked over to his trunk to get a fresh uniform and robes. Heading into the bathroom he washed up and got dressed for the day of classes. When he walked back out both Remus and Peter were nearly finished dressing. “Alright, I need to go and talk to James about some Quidditch stuff. I’ll see you guys at breakfast.”

The two of them waved as he grabbed his bag and headed out the door. In truth it wasn’t James he needed to talk to, it was Lily. Walking quickly he made his way through the halls to the head dorm and murmured the password, which James and Lily had instantly given their friends whenever they wanted to visit, to go in. James was standing in the main room when he walked in and looked over with a grin.

“Mornin’ Pads,” he greeted as he pulled his bag over his shoulder. “Are you ready for the Quidditch tryouts after classes are done? There’s some great applicants this year.”

“Yeah that’s great. I’m sure we’ll find some wonderful players.” Sirius responded. Then he went directly to the reason for his visit. “Hey is Lily still here?” he asked, looking around. “I need to talk to her.”

“Oh yeah, she’s just in her room getting ready.” James said, nodding to a door at the other end of the room that had a gold nameplate that read ‘Lily’ across it, next to it was a door that read ‘James’. “I’ll see if she’s nearly done.” he continued, walking over and knocking on the door gently before slipping in. 

Sirius looked around the room as he waited, spotting some of Lily’s books on a table and James’ Quidditch gear strewn across the couch. He couldn’t help but think it was almost like a perfect little flat for the two of them. When the click of the door caught his attention he looked back to see James emerging. 

“She’s just finishing up, but says you can go in.” 

Sirius nodded before walking over and slipping into the room. “Hey,” he said, the door clicking shut behind him.

Lily was standing in front of her mirror brushing her hair as she looked back at him and smiled. “Hey what’s up?” she asked as she effortlessly ran the tool through her fiery locks. “James said you looked kind of intense. Is something wrong?” 

“No, not really,” Sirius answered, biting at his lips. “But I need to talk to you about Lyra.”

Her eyebrows knitting together in concern Lily set the brush down on her dresser and walked over to Sirius. Taking his hand she guided him to her bed so they could sit down. “What is it?”

Sirius looked down at his lap, a slight frown forming as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I’m...worried about her. I think she’s having trouble adjusting to you not being there.” He fell silent a moment, biting his lip before casting his eyes to Lily. “I heard music in the common room at an ungodly hour this morning and went down to find her there. She said she hasn’t been able to sleep well since you’ve been gone. Described the room as depressing, and said she’s lonely every night without anyone to talk to.”

Lily closed her eyes and let out a sigh, reaching up to rub her forehead. “I was worried about this.” 

“I offered to let her stay with me and Remus and Pete once in a while when she gets overly lonely, now that James isn’t there there’s a spare bed. But I don’t think she’d be very comfortable with that. And I...we’re not able to go up to the girls dorms to keep her company.” Sirius continued, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I stayed with her in the common room last night and she slept ok, but we can’t just keep sleeping down there. The only thing I can think of is...I mean I know you enjoy being here alone with James, but do you think once in a while you could go spend a night or two with her? I loathe knowing that she’s lonely up there…”

Opening her eyes Lily looked over at Sirius with a small smile. It was nice to see him caring about someone so much. She couldn’t help but feel that Lyra was wrong, that her friend was greatly under estimating Sirius. Somewhere deep down she knew that Lyra was exactly what he needed. And now that he knew how their friend felt about him she hoped he would start to see it as well. It might take time, maybe even an immense amount of time, but she knew he’d find his way there sooner or later.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. I should go and stay with her some nights,” she answered with a nod. “And I’ll talk to James about letting her stay here once in a while as well. I hate the thought of her being up there alone too. Why don’t you head down to breakfast now? James and I have a couple quick head duties to take care of and we’ll meet you all in a few minutes.”

Sirius nodded and bid Lily farewell before heading out of her room. 

“Everything ok?” James asked as he watched his friend slip out.

“Yeah it should be. See you at breakfast.” Sirius answered with a wave, heading out of the common room.

James looked over at Lily as she walked out of her room with her bag over her shoulder. “So what was all that about.” he asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

Smiling as she walked over to her boyfriend Lily leaned up to kiss his cheek. “He’s worried about Lyra.” she answered, making James grin. “And with good reason. Apparently she hasn’t been able to sleep, and she’s depressed being by herself. I knew that me leaving the dorm would be hard for her, but I didn’t think she’d struggle this much. I think I’m going to spend a night or two here and there with her to keep her company. And maybe sometimes she could stay here?”

James smiled and nodded, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “That’s perfectly fine.” he murmured against her skin before pulling away. “So how long do you think it’ll take him to figure out that he’s completely into her?”

"Oh, you think he is?" Lily asked, looking up at him. It amused her to see that James knew his best friends feelings better than his friend did. 

“Well yeah. He has been since last year and he’s bloody oblivious to it. Look at the way he is with her,” James said as the two of them headed out of the common room. “She’s the only girl he’s ever been affectionate with. And they’re not even shagging. He hugs her, he holds her hand. He opens up to her in ways that he hasn’t with anyone else. He never acts like that with the girls he’s shagging.”

“And now he knows she has feelings for him. I told her it might work out in her favour but she insists it won’t. She feels that she’s not his type.” 

James rolled his eyes as the two of them made their way towards the Great Hall. “They’re both bloody daft. Not much we can do though. We’ll just have to sit back and let this play out.”

Giving a nod of agreement Lily smiled up at him. “They’ll figure it out. I mean, if we could there has to be hope for them.” 

“Oi! Are you saying that I’m oblivious as Sirius Black?” James asked her, feigning offense as he looked down at her. He laughed as she rolled her eyes and slung his arm over her shoulder. “I love you.” he said, leaning down to kiss the side of her head. 

Lily flushed and smiled as her arm slipped around his waist and she pressed into him. “Love you more.”

“Never.”

She looked up at him with a look of adoration in her green eyes as they entered the Great Hall. Walking over to the Gryffindor table they spotted their friends at their usual seats. As they neared they heard the group burst into laughter at something that Sirius had said. “Hey guys.” they said in unison as Lily took a seat next to Lyra, and James next to Sirius. “What’s so funny?” Lily asked as she reached for the pitcher of orange juice.

“Oh not much, just Sirius acting like an idiot. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Remus said with a smirk, dodging out of the way when Sirius took a swipe at him. 

The group all laughed and talked together as they ate their breakfast. When it looked like they’d had their fill the plates all disappeared from the tables and a moment later the first bell rang. Gathering their things they got to their feet and started heading to class. With James rambling some Quidditch nonsense into his ear Sirius looked over to see Lily fall into step with Lyra a few feet away.

“Hey Lyr, I need to talk,” the red head started as her friend looked over at her. “So I realize with all the Head Girl duties I’ve had lately, I’ve been a horrible best friend and have been neglecting you…”

“Oh no Lily...it’s ok…” Lyra started, only to have Lily interrupt her. 

“No it’s not ok,” Lily insisted with a shake of her head. "You’re my best friend and you’re stuck up in that dorm every night by yourself. I feel horrible for making you feel so lonely. So I propose that this weekend I go and stay with you, and we’ll have a real girls weekend. We’ll do facials and do our nails and our hair...the whole nine yards.” 

Lyra’s face perked up at the suggestion. “Yeah that would be great Lily. I miss having you there, it would be fun.”  she said with a grin.

“Well if you ladies are having a girls weekend, then I absolutely MUST join,” Sirius joked as he stepped in between them, draping his arms over their shoulders. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a good facial my skin is absolutely parched. And I’m in dire need of a manicure. At the end of it we’ll all look fabulous.” he finished, reaching up to flick his hair back in an effeminate manner.

Lily and Lyra both burst into giggles and shook their heads. “No boys in the girls dorms, remember Sirius?” Lily said with a smirk as the group headed into their potions class. 

Letting out another laugh Lyra sighed and looked up at Sirius. He must have talked to Lily about how she was feeling. She smiled a little, bumping into his side. “Thank you.” she murmured as they walked in.

Sirius just smiled and winked at her as they took their seats and class began.

*

“Well that was a nightmare,” James grumbled, reaching up to rub his face. “I think there were like...two people in that whole tryout that were actually decent.” 

Sirius just shrugged as he closed the chest that housed all of the Quidditch balls. The two of them picked up a handle on either side and made their way across to the Quidditch Pitch towards the locker rooms. “It could have been better. But it also could have been worse,” he said as they reached the coaches office that belonged to Madame Hooch. “I’m sure with some practice most of them would make good players.”

“Maybe,” James said. He let out a grunt as the two of them hefted the chest up onto the desk. “I was just hoping there would be a bit more raw natural talent to work with. It’s going to take time to mould them into a perfect team.”

“Don’t worry James it’ll be fine,” Sirius responded. Leaning back against the desk he tossed his bangs out of his face before raking a hand through his hair. “I know it’s our last year and you want to win the Quidditch cup and go out with a bang. But it’s really not the end of the world. Don’t stress and just have fun. We’ll be under enough stress once we get out of here and have to try and find a place to fight in this bloody war.”

James was silent for a few moments, worrying his lip with his teeth as he thought about what Sirius said. “I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’ve decided to go into Auror training after graduation,” he said. Crossing his arms he looked down at his feet. “I haven’t told Lily yet. I’m afraid of what her reaction might be.”

“Can’t imagine it would be a good one. But I like to think she’d understand.”

“I do too,” James shook his head and glanced back up at his friend. “I know we haven’t been together long but I love her more than anything. I can’t stand the thought of losing her over it.” Sucking in a breath he picked at the sleeve of his shirt as he thought of a way to word his next sentence. “If her reaction is...understanding...I think…” he hesitated a moment, his brows furrowing.

“What are you gonna ask her to marry you?” Sirius joked as he cast his friend a wry grin. His smile fell though when James remained silent, his face flushing. “You’re not serious.” 

“No that would be you-”

“Fuck off with that James. You’re not actually thinking of proposing to Evans so soon? Are you mad?” 

James frowned. This certainly wasn’t the reaction he was expecting from his best friend. “Well...not right this second no. I was thinking of waiting till after we’ve graduated. You know I didn’t think this was how you’d respond.”

“How the bloody hell do you expect me to respond?” Sirius boomed, throwing his hands up into the air. “What about our plans for after graduation. Getting a flat together and playing the field, living the bachelor life and having fun. Enjoying our bloody youth. Can’t do anything when you’re strapped to a bloody ball and chain.” he huffed, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Sirius…” James started, but trailed off. He truly was at a loss for words and didn’t know how to respond. “We...things are different now. Life has thrown us some unexpected curveballs. The world is changing and we have to change with it. I mean we can still do many of those things, some of them don’t have to change. But...we were naïve kids when we made those dreams. I’m sorry but it’s time to grow up a little. To be a little more realistic about what's coming in the future.”

Shaking his head Sirius let out a bitter laugh. “Fuck,” he muttered, turning and kicking the desk. “It seems like everyone has got all their bloody shit figured out. The whole lot of you seem to know where life is taking you, you’ve all got all these bloody plans and hopes for the future and where the hell does that leave me? Left in the fucking dust. Utterly useless and fucked up with no bloody future, no home, no clue where the hell I’m going. Gonna end up fucken left behind and forgotten...abandoned…”

“Oi, no one is going to bloody well abandon you,” James spat at him. Reaching out he grabbed Sirius by the arm and turned his friend to face him. He could see Sirius was fighting back tears as he avoided James’ gaze. “No one is leaving you behind. Ever. You’re my best friend, you’re my brother. Do you honestly think I would do that to you after everything we’ve been through together? You think any of us would do that to you? We all care about you.”

There was a long silence before Sirius closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. “I’ve never felt so bloody lost before,” he muttered, shaking his head. “My life has zero direction. I have...no idea what the fuck I’m going to do. Where I’m going. I have no purpose. I feel so bloody empty and alone, I have for ages.”

“Well, you’re not alone,” James insisted, reaching out to place a hand on his best friends shoulder. He gave it a reassuring squeeze before pulling him into a hug. Sirius closed his eyes tight, pressing his face into his friends shoulder. “You’re never alone.” The bespectacled boy continued, tightening his arms around his friend. “You have five friends who love you and care about you. Who will do everything they can to guide you and help you find your way. You have a purpose Sirius. You just have to find what you’re passionate about. Something that makes you happy.”

“I don’t know what that is anymore.”

“And we’ll help you find it.” James assured him. As Sirius pulled away from him he averted his gaze as his friend wiped away the few tears that slipped down his cheeks. “Why don’t you apply to be an Auror with me? I think you’d be brilliant at it. And there’s no one else in the world I’d rather have at my side, who I trust enough to have my back in all of this.”

Sirius fell quiet as he replayed the idea back in his mind. He then looked to James, a small flicker of hope in his eyes. “That...actually sounds like a good idea.” he murmured. After thinking about it a few more moments he nodded. “Yeah.”

James managed a small smile as he reached up to ruffle up Sirius’ hair, making Sirius scowl and swat his hand away. “There see?” he said, slinging his arm around the other boys shoulder as Sirius fixed his hair. “It’ll be ok Sirius. You’ll find your place. I promise.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat Sirius nodded, giving James a weak smile. “We should get back. I have some homework to finish before dinner. Then we have to put the final touches on that prank we’re planning for Filch.”

James laughed and nodded as the two of them headed out of the office. His arm still around Sirius’ shoulders James looked up at the sky as they headed across the field towards the school. He’d had no idea that his friend had been this distraught and suddenly understood then why he’d taken off for days or weeks at a time during the summer. Sirius had been lost and was trying to find himself again. He was upset that he hadn't confided in him, but he understood why. Sirius wasn’t comfortable with talking about his issues, preferring to suffer in silence till he was ready to open up.  James just hoped that his friend remembered that he had people to lean on, and he’d never be alone.

~

#Harry Potter fanfic #Marauders Era #Marauders Era fanfic #James x Lily #James Potter x Lily Evans #Jily #Sirius x OC #Sirius Black x OC #Lily Evans #James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Peter Pettigrew #Moony Wormtail Padfoot and Prongs

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Twelve: We May Have A Problem

Table of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,810

MASTERLIST

~

When you woke up, Spencer was standing, fully dressed and talking on the phone.

“No, I didn’t hear anything. . . . Yes, it had been open but this morning it was closed and so was her bedroom door. . . . A new one? . . . What book? . . . Okay, I understand. . . . Yes, sir. . . . You too.”

He hung up, running a hand through his hair and turning towards you. Startled to see you awake, he came near and sat on the couch.

“Hey,” his voice was much gentler than it had just been on the phone. Presumably, he’d been talking to Hotch, his boss.

“You said ‘A new one’. Is there a new victim?”

“I really don’t think—“

“Spencer.” You didn’t have time to argue with him about whether or not you should know what was going on. “I need to know.”

He must’ve known it was no use putting up a fight. He sighed softly before he spoke, setting the tone for the conversation.

“Yes. There’s a new victim, pushing the total up to six. I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he said, more to himself than you.

“I need to know,” you repeated, urging him to go on. “Please.”

Silent for a moment, he said, “Okay, but first get dressed and eat breakfast. Then we’ll sit down and talk.”

Right. You were still missing your pants. And your last shred of dignity.

So you stood, went to your bedroom, and dressed in jeans and a tank top. It would be a decidedly unremarkable outfit if not for the fact you never wore very exposing clothes, such as a tank top. This particular one happened to expose just the right amount of skin. You wondered if Spencer would notice. Not that that was important! Someone had been killed, for christ sakes.

“What time did you get up?”

He’d found a box of cereal and poured two bowls. The living room was much cleaner and you suspected he’d tidied up, ridding the room of evidence of last night.

“Six,” he said with a mouthful of cereal, not sparing you a look. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell y—“

You had stepped into his line of sight and his jaw had dropped. It was like a moment out of a sitcom.

“What is it?”

Suddenly aware of the way he was gaping at you, he adjusted, looking at you in confusion.

“What’s what?”

You would have laughed at his shock if not for the pressing matter at hand.

“You said there’s something you need to tell me?” and you sat next to him, picking up the bowl of cereal and eating.

“Right. Yes, um. . . .” he hesitated for a moment, putting down his bowl and breathing deeply. When he looked at you, you understood that there was something more to what had happened.

“Just tell me,” you took his hand in yours and he let you. Strange how you were the one in danger but you frequently found yourself comforting him. Not that you were complaining! It actually felt nice to take care of someone else. Made you feel less useless.

“Last night . . .” you drew a quick breath in anticipation of the discussion to come. “Last night, someone snuck into the apartment.”

You released the breath you’d been holding. That wasn’t what you were expecting. You waited for him to go on.

“When I woke up, the window and door to your bedroom were closed even though last night they’d been open. Someone must have entered the apartment. Presumably the stalker. I’ve already called the team and they’re sending a unit over.”

He paused, giving you the opportunity to ask, “Why didn’t he . . . kill me?”

“We’re operating under the assumption that he doesn’t want to kill you. He wants to play out a fantasy with you but since he’s too scared to approach you, he has to substitute you with other women. However, we have to assume that he won’t stop killing until he finds some way to play out his fantasy with you.”

“What’s the fantasy?”

Spencer paused. 

“We aren’t quite sure. Each of the victims was killed in a unique manner based on certain books. A copy of each book was found at the crime scene. We’re still unsure as to why he’s choosing these specific books as there’s not a lot that connects them.”

“How did he kill them?” you didn’t want to know but you had to.

He seemed to understand this so he answered without too much protest.

“The first victim was found with a copy of The Handmaid's Tale. She’d had her eye scratched out and was hanged. The second book was The Picture of Dorian Gray, victim found stabbed next to a self-portrait. The Telltale Heart and The Great Gatsby pretty much speak for themselves. The most recent one was 1984. She, uh . . . had a cage strapped to her head and . . . well, you can picture the rest. Are you okay?”

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, breath frozen in your throat, putting a pattern together.

“That’s only five. What book did the new one have? How was she killed?”

“Oh, um. A Clockwork Orange. It looked like he made her jump out of a window. What’s wrong?”

You stood and started to pace slowly, processing all this information. Absentmindedly, biting your nails, you thought hard if it was just a coincidence.

It can’t be. Is it? It must!

“Y/N!” Spencer was in front of you, crouching slightly with his hands on your shoulders. “What’s wrong? Should I not have told you?”

Rather than answer, you pulled him to your room, flicked on the light, and sat on the floor in front of your nightstand. Underneath it was a little cabinet, both doors closed, a little latch locking them.

You looked at Spencer. He looked so worried like it was his fault all this was happening. You wished you could kiss all worries away so that it was just him and you and nothing else. But you couldn’t. There was something far more pressing now.

With a flick of your wrist, you unlocked the cabinet and opened it. There were two little shelves, each holding an assortment of books.

“I keep my oldest classic books in here,” you said, watching his expression change to understanding as he saw the books.

The first six on the top shelf were the exact ones that had been found at each crime scene.

~

Spencer’s team had arrived two hours later, preceded by an entire Crime Scene Investigation unit. Your entire apartment was cordoned off, the only people in and out being the FBI personnel, so you were standing in the hallway, watching people help themselves to your apartment.

“Y/N?” it was the blonde woman. “I’m sorry we haven’t been formally introduced, I’m Jennifer Jareau, I’m the media liaison. We’ve decided to release this case to the press. It might help push the killer out of hiding, attract more attention.”

You nodded, understanding what that meant. They’d have to give all sorts of details that involved you. What the victims looked like: you. Why he was killing them: you. And who he was really after: . . . you.

“We also need to change your cover, move you to a safer spot.”

You looked at her, confused.

“Why?”

“He clearly knows where you live, who is with you, and how to get in. We’re going to relocate you to a secure location. Doctor Reid will take you as soon as your things are packed.”

“Wait, I don’t want to go somewhere else. I wanna stay here. Can’t you just put more cops nearby?”

You were being stubborn, you knew. But your apartment was the only place you felt comfortable anymore, anywhere else and there was the threat of being attacked. Only now, that threat applied here.

“We need to keep as many people working on catching the unsub as possible. The more people worrying about you, the less trying to catch this guy.”

It was blunt but she was right. They needed to be focusing on taking him down, not keeping you safe. They needed the best people on the case. Then why. . . ?

“Then why is Spence the one protecting me? He’s a literal genius, shouldn’t he be heading up the case?”

She looked at you quizzically, like she was trying to figure you out.

“What?” you spat harshly, having had enough of not getting answers.

Coolly, surely from years of experience dealing with impatient people, she replied, “Doctor Reid has expressed a . . . request to keep his assignment with you.”

You took a moment to process that information. He’d asked to stay with me. He’d requested it.

“Why?”

Jennifer was looking at you analytically; like she was deciding the right thing to say.

“I don’t know.” And you knew she was telling the truth. She honestly had no idea why Spencer would choose to stay with you rather than help catch the killer. 

You smiled politely at her, “Thank you, Jennifer.”

“My friends call me J.J.” she smiled back, lightly placing a hand on your arm comfortingly. Her phone rang. “If you’ll excuse me.”

And she left you in the hallway, surrounded by people yet feeling so alone, wondering when Spencer would be back.

~

J.J. had to work late, fixing the stupid paperwork error she’d made earlier. Hotch was the only one still there.

Deciding to check in with him before she left, she knocked on the door to his office, already stepping in.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out. You good?”

“Hmm,” he grunted, not looking up from the case file.

Debating whether or not to prod, she sat in the chair across from him. He glanced at her, realizing he’d been dismissive.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping a hand over his face and sighing. 

J.J. chuckled. “It’s ok. It’s been a rough week.”

“Tell me about it. This guy hasn’t been leaving any indicators of who he is, where he works, and why he’s targeting this girl.” Hotch slapped the file and sat back.

J.J. shuffled in her seat awkwardly.

“Has Reid ever . . .”

But she trailed off, prompting Hotch to look at her seriously.

“Has Reid ever what?”

“Has he ever asked to be assigned as a protector? Rather than be in on the case?”

Hotch looked at her suspiciously, trying to recall previous cases.

“Not that I can remember. Why? Wondering what makes this case different?”

J.J. shook her head. 

“It’s not the case.”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled sheepishly.

“We may have a problem. Earlier, outside her apartment, she was talking about how she didn’t want to move locations. And—”

“—Well, that’s normal. She feels comfortable where she is, wary of pushing her comfort zone.”

“Hotch,” J.J. said seriously, prompting Hotch to look at her again. “She called him ‘Spence’.”

After a moment Hotch sighed, face-palming.

“Shit.”

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13​ @yourmisosoup @queenofthebees003 @pinkdiamond1016 @matthewreid @perverted-guardian-angel @boiled-onionrings @rainsong01 @the-lovely-emma-swan @andiebeaword @itsmoony

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #reader insert #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #fluff #angst #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #slow burn

[simp-for-spencer-reid]

Sugar with a Side of Coffee- Ch. 13: Purple Hyacinths and White Orchids

Chapter 13: Purple Hyacinths and White Orchids A/N: I’m sorry in advance Masterlist

Cate awoke the next day with a headache from drinking so much wine. Her alarm was chiming through her phone and it felt like the sound bounced between her ears. Pressing her palm into her forehead to create a pressure that wasn’t her headache, she let out a large sigh as she sat up in bed. It was her mistake to keep drinking with Spencer’s friends when she knew she had to work the next day. Even though she was paying for it today, she had a really fun night at Rossi’s. 

Spencer had driven Cate back to her house last night. Instead of the usual comfortable silence, Cate was blabbering the whole ride in Spencer’s car. Not only was she the chattiest Spencer had ever seen, she was also the touchiest. Not always touching him, but fiddling with the radio, opening all the compartments to see what was inside. A wine-drunk Cate was brazen and not nearly as quiet as she normally was. 

“Want to know my favorite flower?” Cate said out loud to Spencer, while rummaging through the pockets of his suit jacket that she was still wearing. Spencer glanced over to her.

“Of course.” He smiled at her. Every few seconds, a street light would shine an orange glow in the car, and Spencer swore this was the most beautiful he had ever seen her. 

“It’s Asters. I like all colors but pink would be my favorite I think.” Cate started to take off her shoes in his car. She was struggling with the small buckle on the heel. “Now it’s my turn to ask you a question.” She sat back up, defeated by the small metal buckle. There was a silence as she thought of what to ask him. “What’s your middle name?” She decided. He had just pulled into her parking lot. 

“Walter.” He quickly said, before getting out and walking around to open her door.

“Spencer Walter Reid.” Cate tried his full name out. She took Spencer’s outstretched hand and stepped out of his vehicle. She eyed him up, repeating his full name again. “Yeah, that seems about right.” She interlaced their fingers.

Spencer thought that the elevator would be their best option to get Cate safely to her floor. She dug in her clutch for her keys and passed them to Spencer to put into the lock. The two walked into Cate’s apartment just as Shrimp was walking past the hallway with one of the little toys Spencer had gotten him. Cate sat on the bench in her foyer and extended a leg to Spencer. 

“Please help.” Cate stuck her bottom lip out. Spencer grabbed her ankle and his nimble fingers just barely struggled with the buckle. He laughed and motioned for her other foot so he could take the other heel off. When Cate stood up, Spencer admired the height difference between them. He could tell Cate was getting tired by the way her bubbling conversation faded. She slid his jacket off, holding it out to him. In the soft light of the hallway, Spencer could see her freckles that peppered the top of her shoulders.

That night was the first time that Spencer had seen her room. It suited her. He pulled back her black and white comforter. Cate laid down, still in her dress, getting settled in. Spencer kissed her forehead and gently took the bobby pins from her hair. He rested another yellow throw blanket over her body. On his way out, he gave Shrimp a scritch and quietly shut the door behind him. 

“I feel like we haven’t worked together in forever!” Marta said loudly. Cate walked into The Empty Mug with her sunglasses on. She scrunched her face.

“Why must you be so loud?” Cate closed her eyes, pausing in her step. Marta chuckled. 

“Hungover on a weekday? You’re becoming quite the rebel, Catherine.” Marta was putting the last of the chairs down. “It’s getting colder, my parents were thinking of retiring the cart for the season.” Marta informed Cate. 

“Aw, I’m gonna miss my cart!” Cate was walking to the back room to put away her things and put on her apron. Like clockwork, soon after Marta flipped the sign on the door from closed to open, Spencer walked in. 

“Hey, Sweater Vest, when are we gonna get a visit from Morgan for a change?” Marta joked with him, starting a pot of coffee. Cate came out of the back, her face lighting up when she saw Spencer. 

“How are you feeling?” Spencer laughed. He had moved so he was standing in front of her. Cate brought a hand to her temple.

“Oh, you know, dealing with the aftermath of your friends. Remind me not to try and keep up with them again.” Cate laughed. Spencer shifted his weight from heel to toe.

“Would you like to go to the new Italian restaurant on Jefferson street later tonight? Like a proper date?” Spencer looked hopeful. Cate’s smile grew.

“I’d love to.” Cate nodded. She was mentally picking out an outfit already. The end of her shift could not come fast enough. As soon as Spencer mentioned Italian, Cate was thinking of an alfredo dish with bread sticks. Cate felt like she was back in high school, giddy like a schoolgirl for the first real date she’s had in awhile. She supposed she could count the museum date as a date, but she categorized it as friends, since that was all they were at the time. This time, though, their feelings were aired out and on the table and they were exclusive. That’s what made it a real date. 

Cate just about ran home, her scarf blowing behind her as she rushed to her apartment. She showered and washed her hair to fix her hat hair. She shaved her legs, even though she planned on wearing tights. After her shower, she walked to her room in a towel, laying out her outfit she had curated all day. A dark green sparkly dress that had long sleeves. It fell above her knee, so she had black tights to cover legs and a black pair of ankle boots with a small heel. She curled her hair for the first time, managing to only burn her fingers twice. She facetimed Marta to show her the outfit and swoon over this date. Seeing the time, she wondered why Spencer hadn’t been to pick her up yet. 

She remembered that they hadn’t decided on how they were meeting. Cate figured she’d shoot him a text and let him know she would meet him at the restaurant. Cate’s nose was red and a bit runny from the walk to the restaurant. The restaurant was all lit up with soft yellow lights and it was everything Cate imagined a real date would be. 

Cate gave the hostess both her and Spencer’s names. He had made a reservation under his name in advance, despite the full house and the hostess informed Cate she was the first of their party of two to show up. The hostess led the way to a table for two, in a more secluded part of the restaurant that was more dimly lit and the tables in this area all had candles on their white table cloths. 

It had been about fifteen minutes before Cate let some negative thoughts cross her mind. She tried calling Spencer, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Cate was on the second basket of breadsticks, pleading with the waiter for a few more minutes. After ten more minutes, Cate had decided to order her meal, not wanting the reservation to go to waste. 

She could barely eat. Half of it was boxed up for Cate to eat for lunch the next day. The waiter had come back, telling her there was already a card on file to pay for the meal. Out of pure pettiness, Cate did something she never usually did. She ordered dessert for herself. A chocolate lava cake was brought to the table. The servers were now sneaking peeks at Cate sitting by herself. She pretended not to notice and picked at her chocolate cake that only tasted like spite. Cate finally gave them her own card to pay and left the restaurant with her leftover box. 

She hauled a cab to go home, since it was now dark and freezing out. While she was in the backseat, her phone rang. Spencer’s name flashed on the screen. She wanted to answer and give him hell, but she left it for voicemail. She chuckled bitterly to herself thinking of Derek already chewing him out- wherever they were. It’s not like he would tell her what state they were in or where they were headed. Her phone finally stopped ringing, and a new voice message notification showed. 

“I am so sorry. I know I promised you a date tonight. What I did was inexcusable. I’m on the jet and I’m an hour and a half out. Can we talk?” Spencer’s voice was rushed with embarrassment. Or was it guilt? After she texted Spencer to meet her at her place the taxi pulled up to her building’s entrance. Cate paid and got out of the car. 

She left her box on the counter. She wanted to stay in her outfit so Spencer could see what he missed, but she didn’t want to be too mean. A part of her felt bad for being mean. She knew he had a demanding job and she was lucky to have spent so much of Spencer’s free time with him so far. She knew he was out there, getting the bad guys and making the world a safer place. With a sigh, she changed into sweats and a t-shirt and plopped on the couch with some reality show to fill the silence. 

A knock on her door made Cate jump from a sleep. She hadn’t even realized she had closed her eyes. She could hear Spencer frantically knock again. His voice coming from the other side of the door. 

“Cate? If you can hear me, please let me in.” Cate looked through the peephole. He was still in his FBI windbreaker. Still feeling mad at him, she opened the door just enough so he could see one eye. “Oh, thank god. I really am an asshole. I’m so sorry.” He started to say.

“Just tell me you got the guy.” Cate’s face was still hard with anger. She sighed. “Tell me you solved the case and it was good for you guys.” Cate blinked.

“Yeah. Yeah we did. It was tough, but we did it. That’s why I was late.” Spencer’s shoulders slugged.

“You weren’t late. Late implies that you would’ve showed up at all. You didn’t. I sat there by myself for an hour.” Cate spat. She took a deep breath in, fingers tapping the door while she made a decision. Opening the door wider, she let Spencer in. He followed her to her kitchen, where she took out a plate to reheat the leftover meal she had. “You must be hungry.” Cate said. Knowing that there was one less killer loose made Cate feel less angry at Spencer. She took out two forks and the two picked at the alfredo pasta together in silence. As they ate, Cate moved closer to Spencer, slowly pressing into his side. She was glad he was safe and home. 

Spencer stayed the night, the two snuggled up in Cate’s bed. Cate’s head rested on Spencer’s chest, his arms wrapped around her. In the morning, he had to get up before her and he gave her a quick kiss before leaving to go back to the bureau for another day. 

On another occasion a few weeks later, Spencer had promised Cate to another date at a different restaurant. Like before, Cate had gotten dressed and ready- waiting for Spencer to pick her up as promised. She facetimed Marta as she waited for Spencer to arrive. They discussed some new baked goods to try at the shop for the winter. She hung up the call when her doorbell rang. 

She excitedly opened it, but it wasn’t Spencer on the other side. It was Penelope. She looked guilty, and when she saw Cate, she looked at her with pity. 

“I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” Penelope said. In her hands, were a bouquet of Cate’s favorite flowers: pink Asters. Cate sighed. “I can’t stay for long, I have to get back to my batcave, but I also brought you this.” Penelope handed a pint of chocolate ice cream to Cate. Cate smiled sadly at Penelope and thanked her for stopping by. 

Spencer’s poor attempt at trying to mend his mistakes was to invite Cate over for more sleepovers and movie nights. He had even given Cate a key to his place. In the cases where he knew he was staying overnight, Cate would let herself in and water his plants for him. Sometimes she would wrap herself in his housecoat. She loved Spending time with Spencer and she was grateful to have met a wonderful male specimen, but she was growing tired of the kisses in passing and waking up alone in a bed where they had slept together. Cate bitterly thought of how she used to be happily single and how she became a wreck of a woman in love.

It happened one day when she came home from The Empty Mug. Spencer had beaten her to her apartment door. She smiled, excited to see him at a reasonable hour for the first time in a while. In his hands, he held a bouquet made of purple and white flowers.

“What’s the occasion?” Cate questioned with a small laugh. “Not that I’m not happy to see you.” She smiled at him, opening the door for the two of them. Spencer brought the flowers to the island. Cate could tell he was nervous. “What’s up?” now she was growing anxious. 

“I know these aren’t your favorite flowers. They’re purple hyacinths and white orchids. They both mean sorry. Well, the orchids mean I’m sorry and the hyacinths are more of a please forgive me.” Spencer spoke with his hands, playing with his fingers.

“Forgive you for what, Spencer?” Cate placed her hands on the countertop of the island. “What are you talking about?” Cate shook her head.

“You deserve more than this. I feel awful when I have to leave for a case. You don’t deserve being stood up or waking up alone. And as bad as I want to be what you deserve and what you need, I can’t quit doing what I love. I wish I could but I can’t.” He stammered out. Cate grew angry at him, the floodgates had opened and everything she felt was coming out.

“You don’t get to tell me what I need! You don’t get to decide how I feel!” Cate started. She had come to terms with how their relationship was and how important Spencer’s job was. He was keeping people safe and Cate knew what she signed up for.

“Stop being so understanding, you’re making this harder than it has to be.” Spencer closed his eyes, pressing his thumb and index finger into them.

“Fine. I won’t say that it kills me not knowing where you go. Or if you're safe. I won’t say that it’s been easy, but I've been here, spencer. and I was planning on being here!” Cate yelled. Her throat burned. She didn’t want it to end like this. Tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t figure out why Spencer wanted to end this so bad. 

After a silent standoff between Cate and Spencer, he curtly nodded and turned out the door. Cate let herself sit on her kitchen floor and Shrimp finally came out now that the screaming match had subsided. 

Spencer was off his game at work. The team had spoken amongst each other and had come to the conclusion that Spencer and Cate were no more. That was a lie, Derek had visited the shop to get the details from Marta. Even though things were tense between Spencer and Cate, Derek wasn’t the only one visiting the shop.

“How long are you gonna let him just sit out there?” Marta asked, peering out the window to Spencer, sitting on the bench across the street from the coffee shop. He had been spending all his free time on this bench that faced the coffee shop. He hated how cold he got on the bench. Winter was in full swing now. He hated even more how things ended between himself and Cate. He tried reaching out to her, but Cate wouldn’t answer her phone or her door when he knocked. He knew he royally messed up.

“Until he freezes” Cate replied, not looking up from prepping a coffee order. She tried her best to ignore him. Talking to him or even seeing him would break her. She knew she would let him back in and she would just suffer again.

“Just because it’s cold outside doesn’t mean you have to be cold hearted” Marta told Cate. Marta felt bad for the two of them. And not just because all the scheming her and Derek had gone through to get them together had failed, but because they were good for each other. Marta made Spencer his usual coffee order and walked across the street to the bench. 

“She hates me doesn’t she?” Spencer asks. Marta sighed.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say hate but maybe strongly dislike” Marta said, trying to lighten the mood.

#sugar with a side of coffee fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[geesecannotlove]

This little thing was inspired by the song Lollipop by Mika and a geico commercial so theres that but it was fun to write.

•Candy For The Soul•

"You wouldn't believe it granny, my neighbor moved and they left me a casserole." Kirishima Eijirou whined from where he sat on top of a rental washing machine.

The little laundromat run by a little old woman with a big heart and healing kisses was only a block away from the run down apartment the red head had come to call home. His neighbor, a single mom with 3 kids had taken it upon herself to make sure Kirishima was taking care of himself so far away from his own family. But now she was gone and his already empty pockets screamed in agony.

"I don't know what I'm going to do once I eat it all. Fat says I can't pick up anymore shifts at the grocer this month." Kirishima was loud, his feet clanking against the machine, "Can I have a sweet?"

The woman smiled and laughed softly but nodded nonetheless. Across from the washers a small glass bowl full of lollipops taunted the boisterous man.

"You could clean out the machines for me, I'd spare you some change for the effort." The old woman laughed.

"Nah, I'll clean em free of charge Granny, I'm happy to help." Kirishima said quickly, "I'm just complaining is all."

"Well, of you insist, then take another Lollipop before you go today."

Kirishima flashed a smile too big for his face and reclaimed his spot perched on the washing machine. His clothes dancing in cold water to keep them sturdy longer. His long red hair had begun to fade, some parts nearly orange from where the sun had left bruising kisses and a white headband hid black roots that had started to show. He had contemplated just cutting it and starting over, but the thought made him uneasy.

"I would granny, but my momma said, too much candy will rot your soul." Kirishima hummed, still only one sweet grasped in his worn hands.

"Your Momma sounds like a smart woman." The little old woman nodded, her worn book firmly closed in order to give her full attention.

"Ah yeah, she was." That was always the end of that conversation, his words would die off and soon the first dryer would beep. The woman would lift her book and he would pair his patterned socks, stuck in his own head.

"Well thanks again Granny." Kirishima finally would hum and he'd grab his too full basket of clothes and strike back out into the night, neon signs scaring away the darkness and the stars alike.

"Here." Eijirou offered a gentle smile as he tossed a few spare coins into a man's hat, "I'm sorry I don't have more this time dude."

"Thank you Kirishima." The man whispered, tears welling up in golden eyes.

Kaminari Denki, a failed musician who Kirishima had grown fond of. They talked everytime Kirishima passed him and offered what he could, be it coins or the already threadbare jacket that hung from his broad shoulders.

"The offer still stands Kami, the couch is small but all yours if you want it."

"No. I can't do that, but thank you."

"I'll ask again tomorrow."

"I know."

Kirishima first asked a year ago in the dead of winter. The electric blond already swallowed up Kirishima's best coat and gloves. The hat his Momma knitted nestled on the blond's head. Even then it was a no. Kaminari like so many others moved to the city for freedom. Kirishima would be lying if he said he didn't understand why the blond rejected the offer. Freedom was addicting, even if it wasn't ideal, Kaminari had taken the reins of his life and was reluctant to let go.

Kirishima was just as greedy. He lived in an old studio apartment barely furnished with a hole in the corner that gave a view at the downstairs hallway. His worn twin sized mattress on the floor in the opposite corner and a couch in front of an empty entertainment center. His fridge was nearly empty and the apartment burned with the smell of a constantly working coffee maker. Though Kirishima supposed the smell was better than rotting wood and dirty socks that always seemed to pile up.

A single picture of his family hung crooked on the wall and letters he always meant to open had piled up on one end of the couch. Kirishima was no different then most people in the city. He wanted control, a chance at their he couldn't have at home. With freshly dyed hair and a bag carrying his most worldly possessions, a wad of cash shoved in his pockets he caught a train out of his home town at 3 am on a Tuesday morning. He stuck a job at a local grocer, owned by a retired fireman, a hero in his own right. Now he was Kirishima's hero, helping him keep the shabby apartment over his head. Kirishima sighed as he dug for his keys. When he withdrew his hand, a still wrapped lollipop stared back up at him. He laughed, and despite himself he popped it in his mouth. A tune in his mind as he danced into his home a little extra pep in his step. Maybe it wasn't perfect but what he had was completely his.

\/\/\/

Like clockwork a week slugged by and Kirishima once again found himself in the too warm laundromat. The door swung open too fast and banged against the wall, his basket too full to see over and a bag full of his bedding on his shoulder.

"Sorry Granny." Kirishima laughed.

Normally at this time, when sun had only just begun its descent the laundromat was empty. But when the door swung open another set of eyes zeroed on to him. Crimsion just like his own. He had glasses pushed up into wild blond hair and a book in his hands. Kirishima's ears picked up the sound of running machines and the soft laughter of the laundromat owner.

"Oh, sorry to you too." Kirishima mumbled sheepishly dropping his things in front of a washer.

"If you're going to fucking talk to me speak up shitty hair." The blond snapped angrily.

The insult cut too deep for a remark from a stranger.

"I uh, was just sayin sorry." Kirishima tried again and the blond let out a content huff returning to his book.

"I've never seen you around." Kirishima hummed, throwing his sheets in with a cheap pod of soap.

"Cause I normally wouldn't waste my fucking time in a place like this. But my shitty washer," the blond hesitated before mumbling, "blew up."

"No way man, how does that even happen?" Kirishima laughed loudly, filling another machine with his clothes.

"Fuck if I know, but half my house is being rebuilt so here I am shithead."

Kirishima's laugh came out in bubbled snorts as he tried not to fully laugh at the other. Snagging a lollipop from the little dish he swung himself up onto the last machine he'd filled.

"Oi, don't fucking sit on them." Bakugo scolded.

"Nah, it's okay, right Granny?" Kirishima asked, wide eyes turned on the old woman.

"Of course deary."

Kirishima smirked triumphantly despite himself, sticking a blue dyed tongue at the new comer.

"Bastard how dare you." Bakugo snarled, tensing as if he was going to stand and fight.

"I'm just playin, Granny let's adults have lollipops too not just kids, want one?"

"Bastard, no I don't want a fucking lollipop."

Kirishima laughed loudly, his eyes pinching together and his tanned skin flushing a soft pink.

"You're a riot man. So what do you do?"

"Like I would tell you." Bakugo had pulled his glasses down to get a better look at the man before him.

The red head who looked too cheerful to be sitting on top of a washer in a cramped humid room, eating candy from a lead bowl too old to be causally used.

"Well I'm a grocery clerk at Fat's corner shop." Kirishima supplied easily.

"I actually didn't fucking ask." Bakugo tapped his book angrily against his knee, his nimble pointer finger still wedged firmly between pages.

"I know, but your washer still isn't done and the dryers will take at least an hour so I figure we've got time to kill man, and from the sound of it I'll see you around here until your washroom is fixed. So why not get to know one another." Kirishima kicked his feet like a child.

"I'm a fucking lab technician at the hospital."

"Oh man that's so cool, I dropped out of college to be an actor, it's why I'm here."

"And how'd that go?" The words were heavy, like he wanted to be rude but was worried it was too far.

"Not great, but you know, these things have slow periods." Kirishima reasoned, his words starting to dry up in his mouth like it did when something was too hard to think about. Like his momma.

Bakugo made no effort to fill the silence and he pushed his glasses back into his hair, his book falling open in his lap. Granny was in a similar state, leaning back in her old wicker chair the same old book in hand. Kirishima stopped kicking his feet. The candy in his mouth suddenly sour and tart, maybe it was his soul asking for a break.

\/\/\/\

It was only 3 days when Kirishima saw Bakugo again. This time the explosive blond strolled into Fat's corner store still in pale grey scrubs.

"Huh? You again, you've never worked this shift before." Bakugo snarled, slamming a premade sandwich on the counter.

"Yep! I picked up a few extras this week. Are you on lunch?" Kirishima hummed, "Bag?"

"Of course I'm on lunch shitty hair and no I dont want a fucking bag."

Again Kirishima felt disappointment swirl in his gut, "Hey, my hairs not shitty."

"Whatever," Bakugo squinted at his shirt, "/Kirishima/."

Eijirou flushed with colour, recalling they had never properly introduced. He'd picked up on so many other things, like the pink fabric softener tucked in his laundry bag, but Bakugo's brash attitude had taken up so much space in Kirishima's mind that he'd simply forgotten formalities.

"Right! Eijirou Kirishima nice to actually meet you." Kirishima trailed off hopefully extending a hand.

Bakugo swatted it away with a scoff but indulged the redhead anyway, "Katsuki Bakugo."

He was rude and angry but he was sticky in Kirishima's mind like a sun melted candy.

"Well come again soon Bakugo!" Kirishima chimed handing him his receipt and change, already moving on to the electrifying man who stood awkwardly in line.

"Hey Bro what's up?" Kirishima smiled even wider.

"Hey Kiri, when's your break?" Kaminari was messing with the ends of his startlingly yellow hair.

"Ah, 40 minutes, wanna meet outside?" Kirishima said, glancing at the clock beside his register that had a habit of ticking too loud.

"Yeah, thanks Kiri."

"Anything for a bro."

Kirishima's break came fast and he spent his loose cash on lunch for Kaminari. Waving him off when he had nothing to munch on alongside him.

"So what's up?"

"I don't want to sleep on your couch." Kaminari said firmly, his eyes alight with a fire Kirishima hadn't seen in a while.

"Alright?" Kirishima laughed curiously.

"But I need to borrow your address. I'm applying to work at the record shop, but I have to have proof of address." Kaminari's eyes were closed and fists balled at his side as if it hurt him to ask.

He'd been on his own for a while. Cold nights and dirty glares had tore him down but he'd come back again and again. His pride keeping him right where he was. Kirishima was pleased to see him changing direction even if only a little.

"Course." Kirishima smiled, "You know my neighbor moved out, so maybe if this works out, we could be neighbors."

"I'd like that."

Kaminari left before Kirishima's break came to an end, he'd left the soda untouched and slid close to Kirishima's leg on the bench the rested on. Eijirou gulped it down quickly before slipping back into the cool corner store. It was quite, though he assumed it always was at this time, Fat almost never needed someone else to work this shift, but Kirishima was persistent. In the silence of the slow period Kirishima's mind wondered to the blond lab technician and his lashing tongue, it drifted until he was standing in front of cheap boxes of dye. The black box loomed over him. Maybe it was spite against the world, the blond, or just his own mind.

But he latched onto the crimsion riot red and meandered back to his register. Freedom was addictive like candy on a holiday night, you always took too much but your heart always whispered that it didn't matter if you were happy.

/\/\/\/\

Kirishima's hair was down, framing his angular face for the first time in a while. Its colour once again a striking red that highlighted his eyes and natural flush. He entered the laundromat with only one basket, full of mindless copies of his work uniform.

"Deary, have been over working again?" Chiyo scolded making her way to Kirishima's side, looking at the colourful pinstriped shirts and black pants.

"Rent is due at the end of the week."

He was clearly tired, his movements slower and a yawn playing across his face more often then not.

"Well, make sure you're taking care of yourself. Have a lollipop."

"Thanks Granny, I will." Kirishima's bubbly laughter filled the humid room and Chiyo smiled softly.

A bubble gum sweet was popped in his mouth before he swung up onto the washer and flipped through a borrowed magazine.

"Oh so you can read. Maybe you're not as big an idiot as I thought." The blond gruff voice wrapped around Kirishima's mind. He was dressed in baggy black joggers and a childish shirt brandishing a skull. His glasses sat firmly on his nose and a permanent scowl pulled roughly at the edges of his face.

"Of course I can read." Kirishima defended quickly, "What's up dude?"

"I'm not your dude." Bakugo grumbled, slamming a washer full of scrubs shut.

"Come on man, don't be like that." Kirishima laughed out.

The sticky feeling that came with Bakugo was back, Kirishima giddily kicking his feet as he drew words from the blond.

"Woah 3 whole washers this time." Kirishima whistled after it became apparent Bakugo had nothing else to say, "Its only been a week man."

"You had 4 going last week, so shut up asshole." Bakugo snapped, dragging himself to sit on a washer across from Kirishima. The book from before left in his bag nestled next to the pink fabric softener and the dye washing pods. Kirishima found himself grinning wider, unable to contain the child like wonder of making a new friend.

"Why do you always do your laundry here anyway, doesn't that add up?" Bakugo grumbled ignorantly.

"My apartment building doesn't have a working laundromat anymore." Kirishima scoffed, "And Granny here really saved me, being only a few minutes away."

"Oh." Bakugo mused.

"How long do you think you'll be coming round Ba-ku-bro."

"Say that again and I'll punch you." Bakugo kicked out, his outstretched leg nearly long enough to reach across the cramped isle. Kirishima laughed childishly, kicking out his own leg to meet Bakugo in the middle. Kirishima's laughter was infectious, spreading to Bakugo like ants on a picnic blanket, his own snort filled laughter joining the other. There they were full grown men sitting on borrowed washers playing footsie. They kept up the playful banter while the washers rumbled. Bakugo's clothes frothing with hot water and coloured suds. Kirishima's finished first, the cold cycle much shorter, but Bakugo followed him over the wall of dryers anyway.

"Are those ducks?" Bakugo mused, pulling out a wet sock before Kirishima could shut the dryer door.

"Yeah, I think they're manly." Kirishima snatched back the sock, throwing in a wool ball he'd bought a while back to cut down on dryer sheet costs. It did okay. His clothes occasionally would crackle with static and if he didn't pick up his feet when he walked the metal door bar to leave the laundromat would shock him. But it was cheaper in the long run.

"Kiri dear?" The old woman called, "It's snowing."

She was right, fat snowflakes where dancing from the sky. It was early for a snow that would stick, but it meant it was cold and Kirishima had to walk home. They were breath taking in their slow descent.

"Shit" Kirishima whispered beneath his breath, "My stuffs still wet."

"The roads won't be slick, it's been too warm." Bakugo supplied, finally moving over his own clothes.

"I walk here." Kirishima whined, looking outside and then back at his clothes. He'd already handed his winter coat over to Kaminari the other day when the temperature had taken an odd turn but it hadn't snowed then. He'd be sure to slip him his gloves the next time he had a chance.

"This was so pointless, the snow will just get everything wet and I'll have to wash it all again." Kirishima bumped his head against the dryer wall in frustration.

"I'll drive you home shithead, you said it's only a few minutes from here. No reason to cry over dirty duck socks"

Kirishima's cheeks heated at the offer. Embarrassment over his apartment and a fluttering in his stomach, waring in his heart.

"You don't have to."

"Well unless you want to catch a cold for some ungodly reason, I'm going to."

"Okay." Kirishima relented, unsure of really what else he could do.

The blond for the first time since they'd met, cracked a smile. It wasn't like the open mouth cackling from their laughter. This was a stretching sinful smile that crinkled his eyes and pulled at his lips. It wasn't sticky and sweet like Kirishima's own, but seeing it felt like getting away with stealing a cookie from the cookie jar while your mom was busy. Something you weren't supposed to have but when you did it felt like fire in your veins, you smiled until your cheeks hurt.

And so that's what Kirishima did.

Their playful banter returned. They'd slid up on the washing machines closet to the dryers, their shoulders nearly touching. Bakugo was still unnecessarily gruff, but Kirishima took it in stride, shoving back with just as much force. When Kirishima's dryer let out a piercing buzz he dumped everything onto the top of the washer he previously sat on. Clumsy hands making sloppy folds.

"You suck at that." Bakugo remarked.

His own hands making quick work of his freshly dried clothes.

"Hey! I do just fine!" Kirishima barked back swatting at Bakugo's arm.

"Sure you are shit head." Bakugo was laughing again.

Head thrown back and muscles relaxed. Mean but oh so sweet in Kirishima's soul. Maybe this is what his momma meant.

He didn't have much time to think about it. Bakugo had already finished his tasks and was neatly nestling everything back into his laundry basket, his bag thrown on top. Kirishima was quick to follow.

"Just put your basket in the back." Bakugo was headed towards the door.

"Bye Granny, thanks for everything!" Kirishima hummed before scampering after.

It wasn't until he was buckled into the passenger seat of Bakugo's expensive car that the embarrassment came back. He had half a mind to just run home in the snow. But running away wasn't manly.

"Alright then, what complex is it?"

Kirishima mumbled under his breath, the embarrassment catching up.

"I can't hear you Kirishima, try again." Bakugo snapped, a fist slamming into the red heads arm a little too hard.

"It's just past that gas station and then a left." Kirishima said louder this time, his cheeks flushed.

"It's nothing to get so worked up about." Bakugo snapped, "It's just an apartment."

Kirishima felt the words die in his mouth and the sticky sweet feeling of being so close to Bakugo turn sour in his mouth. It was clear Bakugo didn't know how to ease the tension and the car fell silent save for the low echo of his radio.

"I didn't mean to upset you or whatever." Bakugo grumbled after a while his fingers tight against the steering wheel and his jaw clenched. His car jerked as he pulled between two yellow lines, "I'm not a very personable person Kirishima, but I uh, didn't mean it."

The way he danced around an apology Kirishima wasn't expecting would be charming if he wasn't so caught up in his own head.

"Nah man, you didn't do anything, just isn't the greatest of places, guess I'm embarrassed. Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it."

"Anytime shithead." Bakugo grumbled, "Do you, uh, do you work that same shift this week?"

"No, just the night shift this week."

"Do you," Bakugo's relaxed face hardened and he shook his head stiffly, "Never mind. Get out, I'll see you later."

The words were final and heavy. Kirishima's mind buzzed with what he could've wanted but relented and exited the vehicle.

"See ya."

/\/\/\

The next week, they didn't meet up. Kirishima was working too hard on all the wrong shifts and by the time sunday rolled around he couldn't drag himself down to the laundromat and the sticky sweet blond. But it didn't stop the blond from needing clean clothes. He sat on top his running washer for a moment. His eyes drawn to the door, waiting for the redhead.

"If he isn't already here. Then he's not coming, probably passed out from working too much." Chiyo hummed from her wicker chair.

"What's his deal anyway?" Bakugo grumbled, "He could easily land a job that pays better than that corner store. Even without a degree."

"Eijirou is," Chiyo sighed, "He's scared to chase his dreams. Afraid of ending up like the blond man he gives all his spare change and winter clothes to. And above else, he's scared of hurting Fat's opinion of him."

"That's stupid."

Chiyo laughed, it was a soft sound that she muffled with her wrinkled hand.

"I'll be back." He grumbled, jumping off the washer with a thud and snatching a few lollipops, shoving them deep into his coat pockets.

He stalked out into the brisk night, a frown on his face, and his nose red from the wind. Already his bones ached from deciding to walk in the cold.

"Fuck." He swore, "I don't know his fucking room number. /Damn it/."

Shifting his weight awkwardly he did the only thing he could think of. He tossed one of the sweets in his pocket at the only room with its lights on.

"Shithead, is that your window?" He yelled already regretting even acknowledging the old hag at the laundromat.

But the regret that had begun to pull at his pride vanished when a sleepy head of red poked out the window.

"Bakugo?" Kirishima called down his voice thick with sleep and curiosity.

"I'm coming up. Open your door."

Bakugo climbed to the second story and waited in the hallway for a door to open. When it finally did he shoved past a weekly protesting Kirishima easily.

"Where is your laundry." It was brash and lacked the air of a question.

"What?" Kirishima laughed curiously, pulling his red hair up into a pile on his head.

"The old hag said you're over doing it, but that doesn't excuse dirty fucking clothes so hand it over, I'll wash them for you." Bakugo was gathering dirty socks in his arms.

"Wait wait wait, what's going on."

"Its sunday, you always wash your clothes at this time."

"But why are you here."

"You're an idiot."

Kirishima's sleep riddled mind supplied only childish laughter. He clutched his stomach and folded over, his shoulders shaking.

"Oh my god Baku." He wheezed, "You're so weird."

"Hey you asshole I'm trying to be nice." Bakugo was withdrawing into himself, embarrassed.vIt was a cold feeling and he never knew how to handle it. It set an ache in his bones and a strain on his lungs.

"Thank you." Kirishima said suddenly, "Thank you for checking in on me. I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep. Let's go together, okay?"

"Whatever." It was gruff but the blond set to work collecting clothes and throwing them in the offered basket.

"You're bad for my health dude."

"Asshole, what the hell does that mean."

It meant that Katsuki had startled a dying flame in his soul. Just when he felt the reins of freedom becoming too heavy, Bakugo had made him want to feel their tug again. He was remembering why he came to the city of his dreams in the first place.

Chiyo only smiled when the two came stumbling back into her humble laundromat. Katsuki's cheeks were flushed, but he'd swear on his grave it was because of the cold outside.

"I've got an audition for tomorrow." Kirishima said after their conversation had begun to slow.

It had been eating at him all week, the only thing keeping him sane was his endless shifts at the corner store.

"How do you think it'll go dear?" Chiyo chimed, her old eyes alight with curiosity, and Bakugo had stopped to stare expectantly.

"Well you know, trying to keep my expectations low so I'm not too disappointed when they tell me no." Kirishima shrugged his shoulders dejectedly.

"Shut up idiot, you're here in this awful city aren't you, means you at least got a chance."

Bakugo was like a cinnamon disk Kirishima decided. Wrapped up in a loud wrapper and the sugar hidden beneath so much spice. But it was there, sticky and melting out under the heat of the sun. He laughed to himself, at the thought of being Bakugo's sun. Melting away the spice leaving only syrupy red.

"What are you laughing about idiot." Bakugo dealt with his embarrassment by lashing out, his fist colliding a little too hard with Kirishima's shoulder.

"Nothing, nothing." Kirishima laughed melodically, "But I'll be sure to keep you both posted on how it goes."

\/\/\/

Maybe he slept through his alarm and missed the train. Maybe he skipped work and cried on his couch. Maybe he showed up at the record shop still in his pajamas looking for a familiar face. Kaminari bopped behind the counter happily to the music playing overhead. His golden eyes wide and alight with life, when they settled on Kirishima they offered warmth and understanding.

"What's up Kiri, you're looking pretty rough today, feeling okay?" Kaminari hummed, tapping the glass counter that separated them.

"When's your break?" Kirishima croaked, his heart aching at the familiarity and the strangeness of it all.

"Now if you need me."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Come on Kyoka doesn't mind." Kaminari ducked under the fake counter piece rather than lifting it like anyone else would. Kirishima followed the blond numbly his mind too caught up on what ifs.

What if he hadn't worked so hard last week, would he have woken up in time?

What if he had a car, would it have gotten there in time instead of waiting for a useless train?

What if he stayed home?

"So what's up man?" Kaminari sat too close, their shoulders brushing, but he had always been a touchy, sentimental man and Kirishima found himself leaning into it. His weeks of confusing feelings suddenly crashing on him like a wave smashing a child's castle.

"I messed up." Kirishima's voice cracked, "I slept past my alarm and missed an audition for a union film."

His eyes were red from tears he didn't want to shead. Kaminari winced a sharp breath pushing through his clenched teeth.

"I won't lie to you, we both know what good that does for anyone, that was a pretty big mess up, but it's okay. Mistakes are part of living, and there will eventually be another chance. You just have to want it." Kaminari sighed, looking up at the heavy clouds rolling by.

"I did want it." Kirishima whispered, "This is all I've ever wanted."

"Good. Then don't forget how much this sucks. Dust yourself off and do it again. Do it because you want it, do it for you, not anyone else." Kaminari said too lightly.

But he was always like that. Wisdom hidden behind a squeaky voice and child like eyes. He'd always been awestruck by the world and sometimes it was hard to believe he thought so far past the surface.

"But what do I know." Kaminari laughed loudly, when Kaminari was running from words that were too hard, he laughed and deflected but he never let the world silence him like it did Kirishima at times.

"I skipped work today, I didn't even call. What if Fat fires me?" Kirishima had slumped over, head in his hands.

"We both know he won't."

"I had lunch shift today."

"And?"

"I couldn't face Bakugo after I messed up so bad."

"Who?" Kaminari's voice had taken a playful edge, his shoulder bumping the downcast man.

"Some stupidly pretty asshole who is using my laundromat." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he really thought them through. Embarrassment burned hot in Kirishima's mind. His cheeks tinting pink and regret licking at his stomach like the summer sun.

"Kiri! You didn't tell me there was a hottie at Chiyo's? I thought we were friends?" Kaminari whined but his face reflected nothing but cruel enjoyment of his friend's slip up.

"Shut up Kami, I don't want to talk about it." Kirishima was pouting now.

"Sure sure, I gotta get back anyway, but a token of advice? Take life by the throat and never let go. It's yours, do what makes you happy. Damn everyone else. And if that's a pretty asshole with a basket of dirty clothes, then so be it." Kaminari winked, dipping back inside.

\/\/\/

Umm it never occured to me that there would be a line limit on here but there is sooo this was part one I guess, there really isn't a whole lot left but if I go all the way to the limit it cuts off at a weird place so I like this cut off better!! The second part will be up either later today or tomorrow!!

#bnha fandom #bnha fanfiction #bnha #my hero academia #mha #mha angst #happy ending #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kiribaku #bakushima #kaminari denki #jirou kyoka #mha au #bnha au

[themadauthorshatter]

Toppat!Charles Part 5!!

GUESS WHO'S BACK WITH TOPPAT!CHARLES!?

Thank you all so much for your patience with this one, like I said, I've been going through a lot in my personal life, though things are getting better. 

If you haven’t read the previous parts you can find them HERE: 

Part 1:

Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

ENOUGH ABOUT ME! TIME FOR THE RECAP:

Henry has taken the CCC's offer, despite opposition from Galeforce, Ellie, and even Daddy Dearest Terrence Suave.

Meanwhile, Right has polished up Charles and set him up in an actual room for a change of pace.

Not really a headcanon this time but a MASSIVE, MASSIVE trigger warning for torture, violence, and a trauma truck load of angst; we're focusing more on Charles this part since he was more of a cameo in Part 4.

Got that? GREAT!

LET'S BEGIN!

Like before we pick up where Part 4 left off, but with Charles in his new room across from Right, who has taken his position at a desk chair and is calmly talking to Charles. If this were a movie, we would only hear the music score before getting a close up of Right saying something to Charles, who reacts by raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes.

"What?"

Right sighs as he rubs the non-cybernetic half of his head. "Do I got to repeat everything to everyone?" He recomposes himself and meets Charles once more, the pilot shaking his head as he curls his knees into his chest and holds his hands on either side of his head.

"No. No, no, no, nononono. I can't do that. You can't make me."

"So you'd rather go back to rotting in your cell?" Right asks as he raises an eyebrow. "I'm offering you the chance to have some form of freedom and you're willing to throw it away for your stupid government?"

Charles keeps his head down, but clenches a fist. "They'll get me out of here. Just wait and see."

Right grabs Charles's ankles and throws them down before grabbing his jaw, forcing his to look up. Thhe two are inches away from each other and Charles's instincts are telling him to run since fighting hasn't exactly worked out for him.

"Look at where you are and what's been happening. Any time the government tried sending a destroyer, it didn't work. You were left alone in that cell with nothing but your shadow on the wall to talk to. You have a chance to get out and not have to deal with that anymore. You're seriously going to turn it down because you think the government's coming to rescue you? Taking my offer would get you out a lot quicker. "

Charles only glares into Right's human eye before doing a very ungentlemanly and dumb thing by spitting in his eye. (Unsanitary as well, I might add. Really, Charles, get with the program!)

Right backs away slightly, though it's more like an angry flinch because he recoils and then freezes.

Charles, however, keeps his glare as his wipes his mouth off with his sleeve. "Never."

Right is still for a moment before backhanding Charles with his cybernetic hand, not enough to seriously injure him, i.e. a broken jaw or knocking him unconscious, but it does leave him seeing stars and in a good state of, 'that hurt a lot more than it should.'

Right stands back, takes out a handkerchief, wipes his face off, and then pockets said handkerchief before folding his hands behind his back.

"You'll come to your senses. If you can wait, so can I."

With that, Right leaves the room just as Charles picks himself up, rubbing his cheek.

"See you tomorrow, Charles."

As the door closes behind Right, Charles's face and the room's temperature drop.

Cut to Right, who is leaving the hall and going to that room we saw in the Free Man ending, that cafeteria- like room with the big window overlooking Earth.

JUMP TO THE NEXT "MORNING"

Charles is sound asleep in his bed when a pair of toppats come in. One stays by the door and the other wakes up Charles.

The pilot, due to being out-strengthed and delirious from sleep, is pulled out of his room and can barely keep up with the toppats as they drag him to a different room.

In Charles's perspective, the world is dark and he keeps drifting in and out of sleep. He eventually opens his eyes to see he's back in the jungle, by the crashed helicopter. Right is nowhere to be seen, but Charles does see someone else, someone that he ACTUALLY happy to see. As in he smiles and tears up.

"Henry?"

Henry stands still as he stares at a growingly flustered Charles, who races toward him.

"Henry! Man, are you a sight for sore eyes! You have no idea what these guys've done. C'mon, let's go-"

Just as Charles is about to hug Henry, he holds a hand and stops Charles in his tracks.

"Hen... Henry?"

Henry's face turns from blank to angry or annoyed and he shakes his head, backing away.

Charles tries to follow him, but he can't. When he looks, he sees his feet are sunken into the ground and panics.

"Henry! Help! I-I think I stepped in quicksand!"

Henry only backs away further, now glaring at Charles.

"HENRY, PLEASE! SAY SOMETHING!"

Henry finally approaches him and leans close to his his face.

Before he can say anything, Charles's breath catches and he quickly finds he can no longer breathe. 

Charles tries gasping and exhaling, but only blows bubbles out of his mouth. 

The jungle fades away into a very dim grey, almost falling. Henry falls away with it, much to Charles’s fear. 

The pilot tries reaching for Henry and is pulled away, seeing as Henry swims further away from him.

Charles gasps for real this time as he is pulled out of a tub of water and focuses his gaze on Right, who is standing over him with his arms folded behind his back. 

“Good morning. Sleep well?’” 

Charles tries to push himself away the tub only to find his hands are either tied or handcuffed behind his back, I’m noting an ‘either’ here because while I can see Right using handcuffs or restraints like the ones we see in the Free Man ending, to save on resources and because Charles is already pretty weak, he’d probably just use a rope.

The toppats that woke him up and dragged him here both hold his shoulders, one holding the back of his collar. 

Charles glares at Right and struggles against his bonds, but he stays quiet. 

Right sniffs and nods at the two holding Charles. “Give ‘im a wash.” 

The one holding his collar grips his hair, yanking it and making Charles follow his movement before dunking him back into the water. 

Right watches as Charles struggles both above and below the water, mildly impressed that he’s still strong enough to the point that the two toppats are having a hard time holding him under. If this were a movie or a game cutscene, the camera would hold on Right’s face, resolute and expressionless, and all we would here would be the score and Charles struggling. Right blinks and an icon appears on his cybernetic eye, a solid circle with a ring around it. 

A camera. 

After a while, Charles’s movements slow and nearly stop completely, bubbles leaving his mouth and nose. 

Right nods at the toppats pull him up.

If that first dunk didn’t wake up and alarm Charles, this certainly did. 

Charles gives one of those loud gasps and coughs up water as he catches his breath. 

Once his breathing goes at least to where he’s not huffing and puffing, he feels one of the toppats grip his hair again. He fights against him, but is ultimately pushed back into the water. 

The partner repeats itself for a while. 

Dunk his head in the water, wait for him to stop struggling, pull him out and wait for him to just about get his breathing normal, rinse and repeat. 

After maybe a half an hour of this, Right notices Charles has started shivering after his last dunk and is having a hard time getting his breathing even. 

“Enough. Get ‘ im to a medic.”

They do so, and Charles follows with barely any strength to keep up.

The next day isn't any better. 

The toppats are ordered to sit Charles in a chair, his hands on the rests, his head in a restraint, and his eyes held open with something like reverse clamps; if you’ve seen or read A Clockwork Orange, you’ll know what I’m talking about. 

Right takes a seat next to him, a medic on his other side to keep his eyes hydrated, and the two watch a simple movie. 

Just a nice, sit down, home cinema night 😁😊

JUST KIDDING! NO THEY DON’T! 

“You seem too confident your government’s gonna save you.” Right turns his head to the screen and folds one leg over the other. “Let me remind you what they’ve done to us.” 

Charles follows his gaze as the film begins. 

I’m guessing the Toppat Clan has been around for a while, based on how many paintings/pictures of the leaders we see in Completing the Mission, so there would be PLENTY of news footage of the government using any means necessary to arrest any toppats they can get their hands on. 

The film Charles watches is nothing short of horrifying. I won’t go into detail, but just know that it’s pretty disturbing. Like, psychologically messed up. 

Charles is forced to watch as members of the government, something HE WORKS FOR, arrest, torture, and execute Toppat Clan members in extremely violent ways. 

Right is quiet as he watches because he’s seen this tape on more than one occasion; he also watches as a reminder as to why he joined the toppats to begin with. 

Charles, however, isn’t exactly that. After watching a clip of seeing a government official gun down a group of new toppat recruits, he finally snaps. 

“STOP IT!” Charles cries as he struggles in his chair and restraint, much to the annoyance of the medic. “PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP!” 

Right’s attention is now on the pilot as he continues screaming and crying, watching quietly as he takes note of his work. 

Charles screams as loudly as he can as the film keeps rolling, unable to look away as the government is practically used against him. 

Right uses this pattern for a LONG while. One day, Charles is physically tortured and the next he is shown more footage of the government hunting down toppats. 

This cycle is continued until, after maybe three months(it doesn’t seem like it’d be that long, BUT TRUST ME, IT CAN BE), when the toppats come for Charles, they find him standing, waiting for them. 

This time is different, though. 

Right is with them and approaches the empty eyed, silent Charles. 

“Learned your lesson?” 

Charles nods. 

Right holds out his hand, a smirk on his face. 

“Whaddaya say, kid? You want in?” 

CUT TO HENRY

Our multilived friend is lying in bed, having a very fitful sleep. I keep jumping to what we would see if we were watching a movie, but trust me on this, I think you'll really like this one.

In this dream, Henry stands in the middle of four mirrors, a different "ending" of him in the side mirrors and the ine behind him. In front of him is himself, on his left is the Toppat King ending of himself(I'm just calling him Toppat Henry), on his right is the Toppat Recruit endimg of himslef(Recruit Henry), and behind him is his Revenged self.

"You should've taken that offer," Toppat Haenry chides.

"Charles would've been safe, if you did," Recruit Henry adds with a shrug.

Henry hears his Revenged self cough behind him and hears his augmentations whirring. "We wouldn't be friends, if that happend."

"And that bothers you?" Toppat Henry laughs.

"Think about it," Recruit Henry says very smugly. "Since when have you needed friends?"

"Escaping the wall-"

"You got out alone before," Toppat Henry says with a tap to his hat.

Henry jumps when he hears glass shattering and turns to see his Revenged self has punched his mirror and cracked it.

"King, recruit, theif, it doesn't matter," he gurgles as blood oozes out if his mouth. "A toppat never keeps his word."

Revenged Henry hits hus mirror again and causes it to shatter, forcing our Henry to jump back and crash into his own mirror-

Henry wakes up and looks around his room, shaken and stirred. He checks his arm and back before sighing and hugging his knees to his chest.

"I hate when that happens."

Man, that was a psychedelic ending!

BUT THAT’S A WRAP ON TOPPAT!CHARLES PART 5!!!! 

This took a very, very, very, very, very, very, VEEEEERY long time, but here it is! 

Thank you all so much for your patience and following this series. I am having such a blast writing this, you have no idea. 

Thank you all for reading! Stay safe out there! And HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!!!🦃🦃🦃

#henry stickmin #toppat!charles #torture tw #drowning tw #psychological torture tw #right hand man #toppat henry #toppat recruits #toppat king #revenged #blood tw

[neerasrealm]

Like It Here

A story about Alice adapting to her new home while Zero silently judges her. And also Clockwork tries to fistfight Jason every five seconds. Typical day in the Zalgo household.

Words: 2025

She didn’t like it here.

She was small, timid, quiet. She belonged somewhere else, somewhere normal, or even back in that horrible, horrible house where she was afraid to move or make a sound. Anywhere, anywhere but the realm of the one they called Zalgo.

She replayed it all in her head again. The beating, the voice, the blood on her new black hands. She looked down at them again. Her outfit had changed. When she didn’t know, but the thing that concerned her more was her body. White skin that was black in certain places, such as her hands, knees, elbows and eyes, white hair that had gone from greasy and flat to big and fluffy but most of all- her strength. She was stronger, far stronger than a fifteen year old girl like her should be. She’d almost broken a couple things already.

‘’So are you just gonna sit around and sulk?’’

That was new too.

The voice.

She looked up at the voice’s owner. They looked exactly like her, same outfit and all. They blew white hair out of their grey eyes. Zero. Her childhood imaginary friend who was somehow...real? Alive? She didn’t know how- but she was here, hovering above her like a spirit that wouldn’t leave.

‘’I-I’m not sulking.’’ she replied defensively. 

‘’Uh-huh. Because sitting on your bed alone sniffling and hugging your knees isn’t sulking.’’

‘’I’m scared alright!’’ Alice snapped back. ‘’You were a lot nicer when I was a kid…’’

Zero sighed and floated down to her. ‘’Listen, Alice,’’ the girl looked up at her slowly. ‘’I’m just tryna protect you. The world’s rough, but you’re safest here.’’

‘’You call this safe?! Did you see some of the things living here?! It’s black and dark and scary!’’

‘’Yes but you’re protected!’’ Zero reached out and held Alice’s face in her hands. Somehow Alice could feel her touch. ‘’Nobody will let you be harmed. Especially not me.’’

‘’Mmm…’’

Alice didn’t get a chance to reply. Not that she was going to. There was a knock at the door behind her. She whirled around staring at it, then looked back at Zero, who frowned. ‘’What?’’

‘’You answer it.’’ 

‘’Me?! Why do I gotta?’’

‘’Because you’re protecting me!’’ Alice hissed. Zero huffed. It went dark for a second and suddenly Alice was watching her own body climb off the bed and walk towards the door. She was floating, just like Zero had been moments ago. It was a surreal experience...and she didn’t like it. At all. The sooner she got control back the better.

Zero opened the door and looked up. A tall, muscular man with long red hair stood in the doorway. He wore a simple white shirt, brown vest, black pants and black boots. He looked down at Zero, looking unamused and irritated. The man's name was Jason, and apparently he lived here. Alice's spirit moved over to the doorway, which surprised her a little. She hadn't tried to move at all. 

"Zalgo asked me to get you." He said. Without waiting for a response, he walked away from the door and down the hall. Zero stepped out of the bedroom, pulled the door closed and quickly walked after him. It took Alice a second to realise she had to follow. She hesitated, then made a swimming motion to move herself forward. It seemed to work- though she'd never seen Zero move like that. 

"Alice!" Her thoughts were interrupted by Zero snapping at her. She could hear her voice perfectly despite the fact that she was at the opposite end of the hall. "What're you doing?"

"F-Floating…?"

Zero rolled her eyes and walked down the stairs. "Just think 'I want to move' and your ghost will do the rest." Zero's mouth didn't move as she spoke- how did she do that? "It's called telepathy. We share a body so we can hear thoughts. Honestly it's like- babysitting a child!"

Alice glared at Zero as she floated after her. "No need to be rude. Not like I'm used to being a ghost!"

"Would you like your body back?'

"N-No I'm- I'm okay."

Zero stepped through a door she'd seen Jason disappear into and froze. 

She was in a...kitchen. Just a regular old kitchen. It even had a 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign hung up on one of the walls. If this wasn't off-putting enough, the kitchen had people in it. There was Jason, of course, sitting at the dining table. There were two others with them. The first was a woman in a white mask who wore a black dress. She had long black hair that swung when she turned to look at Zero, and her skin on her arms looked...leathery, and burnt. The other was a girl with long, messy brown hair. She wore a blue jacket, white shirt and black pants. Alice's gaze went to the girl's face. She had scars running either side of her mouth that looked like stitches, and her right eye- it wasn't an eye at all. It was a clock. 

"Lord Zalgo." Zero said before kneeling down, bowing her head. Alice looked up and over at the man at the stove. He turned to look at them. 

He was...handsome. Almost- too perfect looking. His skin was a shining bronze colour, decorated with tattoos that ran up one arm in spirals and covered the other completely in teal ink. His hair, short at the sides but long at the front, hung partially in his eyes. His hair was a smoky black that turned grey towards the top, like smoke. His face had a small amount of stubble on it, which just served to make him even more handsome. His eyes were gold, and so bright she noticed them almost immediately. They looked straight at Zero with...amusement.

His name was Zalgo. And he was the man who would protect her, so long as Zero worked for him.

"Come now, there's no need to bow." He said. Zero looked up in surprise. Jason and the clock girl both snickered at her, which made Alice cross her arms and look away defensively. Zero stood up and cast a nervous glance at the trio at the table.

"Did you- need something, my lord?" She asked.

"Well yes," Zalgo looked at her. "I need you to eat. I'm sure both you and Alice are starving." He smiled at them and gestured to the table. "Take a seat, you two. Get to know your new housemates."

Zero paused for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by this, but she did as she was told, taking a seat across from Jason. She glanced at the other two girls, waiting for a conversation to start. 

"How old are you, Zero?" The masked woman finally asked. 

"Hm? Well I'm- I mean technically I'm only a few days old, but the concept of me was made eleven years ago- Alice is fifteen."

"That...makes no sense but okay." The clock-eyed girl said. Jason sighed.

"Zero is a demon Zalgo made to control Alice's body and work for him. She looks exactly like Alice's childhood imaginary friend and acts similar to her." He explained.

"Why do you always know this shit?" The clock girl asked, sounding annoyed.

"Because I'm reliable, unlike you."

"Oh I'll show you reliable you fucking anime wannabe-" she growled, standing up quickly.

"Natalie," Zalgo interrupted. "No fighting during family dinner." He shot her a firm look and she sat down again, grumbling to himself. Jason smirked smugly.

"So where is Alice?" The masked woman asked. Zero looked at the spirit hovering just above her. 

"Care to introduce yourself?" She asked telepathically. Alice shook her head. Zero rolled her eyes. "She doesn't want to come out right now. We share the body."

‘’I see.’’ She said. ‘’Well, I’m Jane. It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’re very happy to have a new face here.’’

‘’Speak for yourself.’’ Jason muttered, leaning back in his chair.

‘’Ignore him. He’s angry all the time because a girl rejected him like a century ago.’’ Nat said. Jason glared at her.

‘’We were just friends. Maybe if you listened to me for once-’’

‘’Can’t hear you, I don’t speak weeb.’’

‘’Natalie! Leave him alone. We’re trying to make Zero and Alice feel welcome.’’ Zalgo interrupted before the two could fight. He walked over to the table, carrying a large tray of food. He set it down and passed out plates of food, then slid some large bowls down the table. Zero and Alice looked over the food curiously. Each plate had an entire steak on it, along with some mashed potato, fried mushrooms and a small cup of gravy. Looking at the bigger bowls, the two saw they contained more mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables. Zalgo smiled to himself and grabbed a large bottle of what looked like it could be wine or champagne off the tray. Effortlessly, he popped the cork off and poured drinks into four of the fancy glasses sitting on the tray. The first two looked to be wine but the third was a darker purple colour, and fizzy. The fourth was wine coloured but- also looked fizzy. Zero frowned. Zalgo looked at her. ‘’What would you two like to drink?’’ He asked.

‘’Uh-’’

‘’Ask him for cranberry juice.’’ Alice whispered. Zero scrunched up her nose.

‘’Ew no.’’ she murmured, giving Alice a judgemental glance. She looked back at Zalgo. ‘’Soda?’’

Zalgo gave a nod and poured from the bottle again. Instead of wine or the orange drink it was...well, soda. As the glasses were passed to each person Zero took an experimental sip.

Yep, regular old soda.

‘’How’d he do that??’’ Alice murmured. Zero shrugged. 

‘’Magic I guess.’’ she thought back. She put down her glass and grabbed a knife and fork, digging into her (perfectly cooked) steak. It was quiet until Zalgo spoke again.

‘’So, Zero,’’ he said. ‘’I’m sure you must have questions about this place.’’ he leaned on the table, resting his face on his hands with a small, kind smile. 

She swallowed. ‘’Not particularly.’’ she said. ‘’As long as Alice is safe I don’t have any objections to what’s asked of me.’’

Zalgo looked disappointed with the answer. ‘’Oh, come now Zero. No need to be so formal.’’ he tilted his head. ‘’I created you to look after Alice and protect her. I brought you here to help you keep her safe. You working for me is just repayment.’’

Zero opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Alice tapping on her shoulder. She looked up. ‘’Can you ask him why he cares about me so much?’’ she murmured. Zero looked back at Zalgo, who arched a brow curiously.

‘’Why do you care about Alice?’’

‘’Well why wouldn’t I?’’ he responded. ‘’She was a person in need. I help people in need.’’ he gestured to Nat. ‘’I found Natalie outside her burning home and gave her somewhere to stay. I found Jane in the burning remains of her home after her family was taken from her,’’ he smiled a bit looking at Jason. ‘’Jason didn’t burn anything down, but I found him at a time when he was weak, and needed someone to support him. I was that support.’’

‘’Worst decision of your life, Zalgo my man.’’ Nat interrupted. Zalgo shot her a look before turning back to Zero, his expression softening. 

‘’I just want the best for you all. The world is...harsh…’’ he looked down, a sad look crossing his face. Zero and Alice both frowned. He looked up at them and brushed hair from his face. ‘’My apologies I- got lost in thought for a moment.’’ he sat up in his chair. ‘’Please, don’t be afraid to ask questions if you need to. I want both of you comfortable here.’’

Zero nodded. ‘’We will.’’ she glanced at Alice for a moment, then back at Zalgo. He grabbed his knife and fork and cut into his steak. He looked up at her, then nodded at her plate. 

‘’Well? Eat up. You’re probably both hungry.’’

‘’Oh uh- yeah. We are.’’

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #zalgo #zalgo creepypasta #zero #zero creepypasta #alice jackson #clockwork #clockwork creepypasta #jane the killer #jason the toymaker #writing

[im-actually-ok]

Serial Killer Au

Chapter 2

Patton Hart

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Word Count: 1223 words

Ships: None in this chapter

AU: Serial Killer AU, Human AU

Warnings: Blood, drugging, implied killing, implied death, dead bodies, implied stitching of skin.

Let me know if I missed any tw here^ or in the tags. If there are any any of you would like me to add please let me know

IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO GORY OR MURDER RELATED THINGS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

----

Today was just another normal day for Jason aside from one thing. Today, when Patton came in for their coffee, he would ask them out. Simple as that.

Jason had worked at Starbucks for about a year now. He knew his regulars and their orders. But every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 8:00 am since before he even worked there, that’s when Patton Hart came in, like clockwork.

Jason had been trying to work up the nerve to talk to them since what seemed like forever, but today, he was gonna do it.

He prepared a venti double mocha chocolate chip hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top as he did every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 7:55 sharp and waited. Then they walked in.

Patton was a fairly attractive person, their blond curls tumbling down in front of their soft blue eyes. Freckles were scattered over their glasses slipped down to the edge of their nose. They pushed their glasses up before turning to make eye contact with Jason, smiling and waving in his direction. Jason absolutely melted.

“Goodmorning Jason!” They said in a cheery voice, approaching the counter, “I’ll take my usual please.”

The way they said please always stuck with Jason. How the ‘e’ was always held out a little longer than it should be. Coming from anyone else, this would have been childish, but coming from Patton, it just seemed right.

“Morning Patton! I’ve got it right here,” Jason pulled out the large cup and handed it to them.

Patton giggled a little before taking the cup and thanking him. They started to turn, but Jason stopped them, “Patton, wait!” He called.

Patton turned to face him, “Patton,” Jason started, “ was wondering if you might be interested in maybe going on a date with me sometime?”

Patton just stared at him at first, but then they melted into a smile, “I’d love to.”

Jason sighed a little in relief before saying, “Great! Can I meet you later tonight? Maybe 8 o’clock at the diner ‘round the corner?”

Patton thought for a second before saying, “Actually, why don’t you come over to my place, I’ve been dying to try out a new pasta recipe and I’d love to cook dinner for you,” they held out the word ‘actually’ just as they would ‘please’, something about it seemed off to Jason. But this is Patton, he thought, what’s the worst that could happen?

Jason pulled up to their house. He stepped out of the car and walked up the dimly lit sidewalk before reaching the door. He went to knock but the door was suddenly pulled open wide and there was Patton.

“Hey, you!” They answered cheerfully. They pulled the door open wider so that Jason could come in, but something felt wrong to Jason, he went inside anyway.

Patton took his jacket and led him into the dining room which was actually just a table that was placed in an open space near the kitchen. Jason sat down, looking around the house. There wasn’t much else on the first floor, the whole next room was empty except for a chair that sat in the far corner. That bad feeling in his stomach was back.

Patton noticed him noticing the room before saying, “I don’t usually spend much time down here. Working from home, I’m usually cooped up upstairs most of the day,” they stated nonchalantly with a smile and a wave of their hand. They brought over two plated of pasta, setting one down in front of Jason and the other in the empty seat across the table.

“Alright, apple juice, lemonade, or orange juice? Pick your poison.”

Jason perked up at the word ‘poison’, “What?”

He turned to see Patton holding three containers of three different liquids, “What do you wanna drink, silly?”

Jason let out a little sigh, you’re just paranoid, let it go, “Apple juice, please.”

Patton returned to the table with two cups filled with apple juice, handing one to Jason, they sat down, placing the other next to their plate, “Sorry, I don’t quite care for anything stronger than juice, I like to keep the mind sharp, ya know?”

Jason nodded and took a sip of his juice in cadence with Patton. Something in his gut told him not to, but he did.

They talked for maybe ten minutes (and by that I mean Patton talked and Jason sat quietly) before Jason got up suddenly, surprising Patton, “I’m so sorry, but I just realized that I promised my friend Remy from work that I’d meet him, so I have to go, the pasta was wonderful, thank you for having me,” He spoke quickly, hoping to leave as soon as possible.

He expected a little, ‘No worries’ or ‘oh that’s alright’ from Patton, but the face of hurt from Jason wanting to turned into a face Jason had never seen on them.

“You want to leave?” Their tone was sharp and their eyes were narrowed and angry as tears welled up in them.

“No, it’s just I promised Remy I’d--”

Patton slammed a fist on the table, cutting Jason off, then he laughed as the tears in his eyes fell, “You’re just like everyone else, you wanted to leave just like the rest of them! I CAN SEE THROUGH YOUR LIES! DONT LIE TO ME JASON!”

Jason backed away from them, fear and dread tugging him away. But his legs stopped. They wouldn't move and suddenly his body decided to stop supporting him. He fell to the ground and his vision blurred. He saw Patton lean over him and he felt a tear fall onto his face, “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.

Jason’s eyes fluttered open, his ears rang and his head was spinning. What happened last night? Then his memories came flooding back and his eyes shot open with a new realization. He was sitting in a chair, hands tied behind his back and ankles tied to the legs of the chair. He looked around the room until his eyes landed on something, er, someone.

Another person sat in a chair near him, but their eyes were lifeless and glazed over, stitch marks poked out from their clothing, their mouth was fixed in a smile and dried blood was splattered over them.

Jason gasped and his heart pounded as he continued to look around the room, seeing more and more of these bodies surrounding him. Finally, his eyes landed on the one other person still alive in the room.

Patton was humming and swaying to a song Jason didn’t recognize, he seemed to be cleaning something in a sink, his back turned to Jason. Patton turned and Jason could see that the apron they were wearing was, like the bodies, covered in the dried blood. In their hands, they held a small surgical knife, they examined it to make sure it truly was clean before noticing Jason.

“Oh, you’re awake!” They exclaimed, rushing over to him.

Jason tried to speak, but he couldn’t, he was paralyzed with fear.

Patton kneeled down to cup Jason’s face, “I used your phone to text Remy, I told him you weren’t coming, so you don’t have to leave anymore. So don’t worry baby,” Patton cooed, “I’ll take care of you.”

----

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this new installment of the SS Serial Killer au! I think I’ll do Roman next, so stay tuned!

Serial Killer au Taglist:

@star-crossed-shipper

If you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist please let me know!

#patton sanders #sanders sides #sanders side fic #because i can #SS Serial Killer au #tw murder #tw blood #tw death #tw knife #tw knives #tw drugs #tw drugging #unsympathetic sides #unsympathetic patton

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Ordering Family Ties

AO3

Coming down from his high was somewhat embarrassing, considering he did so still wrapped around Tucker and muttering in some weird ghost language that humans couldn’t hear.  Finding out that he’d told Dash off on camera, and that it had been posted to Viewtube was less embarrassing - though he wasn’t sure how happy he was with the public knowing he’d gotten high since he clearly hadn’t informed anyone that it was accidental.  Intoxication gave him divination powers, apparently, because Sidney Poindexter was very soon finding Danny in his own backyard and thanking him for reuniting him with his brother, and also remarking that he was apparently their great-nephew.  Danny didn’t realize he’d patted Sidney on the back and waved him off until he was gone. Heading inside, Danny found his father in the cursed items vault - which he really needed to probably clear out before something activated - and cleared his throat.  Dad looked up from where he was studying a creepy-looking doll that Danny could see a dull ectoplasmic glow inside of if he tilted his head just so to the left.  “Dad, are we related to the Poindexter family by any chance?”

“Absolutely are, Danno!”  Dad set the doll down and clapped a hand over Danny’s shoulder.  “Your grandmother and her brothers Nicolai and Sidney lived here.  The place had some bad memories after Sidney’s … violent death.”  If it was bad enough that Jack Fenton himself tried to figure out how best to phrase it, Danny didn’t wanna know.  It wasn’t his place to go asking around about another ghost’s cause of death anyway.  “Mom and uncle Nicolai moved out as soon as they could. Uncle Nic was pretty good with technology - even inspired me to start inventing!  He had an accident though.” Dad looked oddly melancholy for a moment and gave Danny’s shoulder a squeeze.  “Why do you ask?”

“Do you have pictures of either of them?”  This was important and Danny couldn’t approach this too recklessly.

The orange giant shrugged.  “Probably in the shed.  I’ll look for em and we can reminisce about them together!”  Dad patted Danny’s back a couple times and Danny gave him a thumbs up, heading back up the stairs as soon as he could.

“Thanks, Dad!”  When he got to his room, Danny huffed and leaned against the door.  “Talking with Dad about ghosts, family, and morality will have to wait till he actually gets to the scrapbooks or something.  That’s fine.  What to do about this weirdness until then?”  For a long few moments, Danny paced in the air of his room, doing his best to exercise his powers while in human form in case he ever needed to use them like that.  And then it hit him, the realization that he could rub his relationships to the ghosts in their faces. Or at least one of them in particular.

Dropping down to his desk, Danny grabbed a notebook, found a pencil, and got to writing.

The Infinite Realms was an expansive void of metaphysical energy and pandimensional pseudo-matter that went on in every direction, including ones that human minds were incapable of perceiving and the recently deceased struggled to make sense of due to the human brain template their soul initially worked with.  It had, however, rather solid topography as far as Danny could tell.  His own map of the place - the 2-dimensional one that only accounted for horizontal movement - was rather reliable after all this time exploring it when he felt it was safe to do so.  So, it took about no time at all to find Walker’s prison and slip in.  Considering that Walker himself was also among the relatively recently dead who didn’t do well with thinking beyond 3 dimensions, Danny found his moments of temporary slip and sliding along consciousness and through the countless dimensions available to him for movement the perfect method of sneaking past all the guards into said prison.  The walls were constructed simply, and all Danny really had to do was move along one of Earth’s dimensional axis more than the rest.

When he found Walker’s office and the warden himself absent, Danny took a seat in the man’s chair and slid into this lair’s particular scope of reality.  It didn’t take long for Walker to return, by which time Danny had found that replicating the thing he’d apparently done where he made constructs out of ectoplasm besides shields was endlessly easier done in the Infinite Realms than it was on Earth.  Probably the ectoplasm everywhere.  “Boy what in tarnation are you doing in my office and in my chair?”

“Sitting, waiting, lounging, doing art.”  Danny dismissed the tesseract he’d made, hoping it didn’t draw Boxy’s attention.  He drew his arms up onto the desk and grinned at the skeletal warden, letting the accent his Mom sometimes let slip through come out full force.  “Ya see, James Lamont, I came across a rather interesting thought.”

Walker crossed the room in less than a second, Danny ducking out of the way of his fist by half a hair.  He flew up to the ceiling and chuckled.  “How the hell did you learn that name, delinquent?”

“Oh my ma, Madeline Paige Walker Fenton, told me about you.”  The warden froze, gawking at him, and Danny pulled out a journal of his.  “Anyways, I had a thought.  You get on me about violating rules of yours that probably don’t even genuinely apply because between Clockwork and the Observants and Dora, I struggle to believe that you have any real authority beyond your prison and the ghosts that you can manage to arrest on nonsense violations of rules constantly changing on your merest whim.  Yet, you come into my town and fail to acknowledge my rules or the rules of the town known as laws.”  Walker was glaring again now, eyes burning bright.  Danny clucked his tongue.  “Quite a misstep for a lawman such as yourself, gramps.”

“There aren’t any laws that I broke, Daniel, and I promise you I have plenty enough authority.  That comes from power, boy, in this world and the living one.”

“Power grated by all the people that give it to you.  On both sides.”  Danny rolled his eyes.  “And overshadowing a bunch of people while invading the town to capture one of its citizens is definitely illegal.  Regardless, unlike you I’m not gonna be too harsh about someone violating rules they didn’t know were there.”  Danny tossed the book at Walker’s face, only pouting a little bit when he caught it.  “Violation of those rules will result in being stuck in the thermos for increments of time that increase with every offense.  Huh.  Take that Lancer, I’ve got a wide vocabulary.”

“You still owe me 2,000 years in this prison, Daniel, and I-”

“Never call me that, you haven’t earned it family or not,” Danny said with a cheerful grin and brilliant blue glow at his fingertips.  “Also, Aunt Alicia and Mom miss you. They didn’t say as much but I could tell.  I’m good with emotions.  Bye, Grandpa!”  Danny flashed some finger guns and slid entirely out of sync with Walker’s prison.  He could still hear the screams of rage, but he was already on his way to go visit Frostbite by the time he was any semblance of tangible to Walker.  “Being friends with a scientist ghost has the best perks.”

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Sidney Poindexter #Jack Fenton #James Lamont Walker #Walker (Danny Phantom) #fanfiction #Phantom Family AU #Phamily AU #Rexy Writes

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { N I N E }

Chapter 8. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it. That is all.” ― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Princess

Nesta was pounding against his door. Any onlookers probably thought she was angry, but anger was one of the only emotions she wasn’t feeling. Unless it was anger at herself.

She pounded against the thick slab of wood once more.

It opened.

Hale stood in the doorway, eyes wide as he beheld her and the arm she was cradling. 

“I’m sorry,” Nesta said, quiet and in a rush. “I didn’t know who else to talk to, and if you’re busy, I don’t want to be a burden-”

“Come in,” he said, stepping aside. “Please.”

Nesta did just that. Hale hadn’t exaggerated when he’d talked about how big his house was. It was truly a mansion - his wife’s dream home, he had once told Nesta. And it was lovely. 

A grand, spiral staircase traveled up each side of the main room, the white floors completely spotless. Nesta was afraid to move, was afraid to touch anything.

Hale walked along the Persian rug into the next room, Nesta not far behind. She looked at everything as she passed, although there wasn’t much to see in the foyer. Just a line of paintings and a small statue of a man reading a book.

They entered a library and Nesta was in awe. Books lined each wall, some older than them both, some new. Nesta took a seat in a small, black leather loveseat as Hale perched himself in an armchair across from her.

“Want to talk about it?”

She wasn’t sure. She had never been good at talking about her emotions, especially not within the last few years. But when she looked up at Hale, she saw someone who actually cared, who understood.

“I panicked.”

Hale nodded. “About?”

Nesta blew out a breath through her nose. “Life. Everything. All of it. I’m afraid of myself. Afraid of what I can do to myself.”

Hale’s eyes shot to her arm, the arm in which she still held close to her chest. “Are you injured?”

Did you injure yourself? She could hear his silent question.

Nesta shook her head. No, not this time.

“Afraid you’ll find yourself back up at the top of the parking garage?” Hale asked, thoughtfully.

Nesta nodded, eyes weary, shoulders hunched. 

“You said you went to a support group last week?” Hale asked, a moment later. After Nesta nodded, he asked, “Did you like it?”

Nesta chuckled, humorlessly. “No. It felt like everyone was tiptoeing around one another. I felt… I don’t know. Like a child.”

Hale smiled, softly. “I used to go to a support group and thought the exact same thing. I wasn’t made of glass, but they acted like I was.”

Nesta sighed. “Exactly.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Hale asked, “Do you still want help, my dear?”

Nesta nibbled on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I hate feeling the way I feel, but some days I don’t want help. Some days I feel like I deserve everything I feel.”

“And what is it that you feel?”

Stupid.

Idiot.

Pathetic.

No personality.

Worthless.

“Lost,” she admitted. “Alone. Empty.”

Hale nodded, eyes never leaving Nesta.

“I don’t remember feeling any other way,” Nesta went on, eyes watching her still hands resting on her lap. “I’ve felt this way for so long that I don’t remember how I was before.”

“Some of us feel much more than others do,” Hale said, voice low in the quiet. “And eventually we feel so much that our minds can’t handle anymore, so we feel nothing at all. Then when we feel nothing at all, it’s hard to get back to how we were before. Hard, but not impossible. Never impossible.”

“You made it back,” Nesta said, simply, finally meeting Hale’s gaze. “How?”

Hale took a moment before rising to his feet and searching through the bookshelves, gentle, wrinkled fingers grazing over the bindings. “These shelves are filled with my favorite protagonists. Each one of them faced hell and still survived, thrived. They hit rock bottom, but they overcame it. We live with mental illnesses, and some days will always be harder than others…but, when I was in my darkest, I realized that my story was still being written. I was the protagonist of my own story, and my story was not ending there. So, I kept going. And it was really hard, but I kept telling myself it would get better and then…” he shrugged, turning to face Nesta with a smile. “It did. Slowly, and not smoothly at all, but it did get better.”

Nesta had wanted it to get better for so long, but it almost seemed impossible. She had lived in hell for so long that better seemed impossible to reach.

“How do I get there?” She asked, eyes lined with silver.

“You just keep going,” he said, simply.

But although it sounded simple, they both knew it wasn’t simple at all.

“You are more than welcome to stay here tonight,” Hale said. “You’d have an entire hallway to yourself. Stay here as long as you wish. Sometimes getting away, into a new scene...it helps.”

“I don’t want to intrude-”

“I’ve been alone in this house for ten years, my child. You would not be an intrusion, but a blessing.”

Nesta nodded. A change in scenery didn’t sound all that bad.

~~~~

“Your move.”

Feyre was sitting with Rhysand, chess being played on the kitchen table between them in Cassian and Azriel’s apartment. 

“Alright,” Feyre sighed, taking another sip of her orange juice. She moved her pawn, the only piece she was able to move without getting knocked off the board. “Your move.”

He chuckled, falling back against the wooden chair. “As exciting as this is, I’m done playing chess. This is our third game and I’m about to lose my mind.”

“Well, what else do you have in mind?” Feyre asked.

Rhysand grinned mischievously, but Feyre cut him off short. “No. You need to rest.”

“I can kiss-”

“Rest!”

Rhysand groaned. “Fine, but you have to rest with me.”

With a small smile, Feyre helped Rhysand to his feet. His head had been injured the most during the crash, his broken arm was also in bad shape. But, at least his legs were okay. With an arm through his, Feyre led him to the couch where Rhysand plopped down. During the last week, Feyre had been at Rhysand’s side every day since they shared their first kiss. Now, the thought of leaving him alone seemed foreign.

He plopped down on the couch before motioning her to come closer. She did as he asked, pressing her lips to his forehead as she laid next to him.

His strong arm wrapped around her waist. It had been a week of kissing and cuddling, of Feyre taking care of Rhysand. Every time things got hot and heavy, though, Feyre would quickly back off. She didn’t need him breaking something else because she couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

But being in his arms? That was paradise in itself. She felt safe, comfortable, happy.

“I’m gonna have to take you out on a proper date soon.”

“Is that so?” Feyre whispered, huffing a laugh.

“Believe it or not, I’m pretty romantic,” he said into her ear before pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

“You’re a bit of a kiss-ass,” Feyre mumbled, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Did I just hear you say that you like my ass?” Rhysand crooned.

“Rest,” Feyre laughed. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Girlfriend’s orders?”

Feyre only hesitated for a second. “Is that you asking me to be your girlfriend? It’s the meds talking, isn’t it?”

Rhysand huffed a laugh. “I’d be honored if you were my girlfriend, Feyre, darling.”

Feyre smiled, back still turned to him. “I’ll give you my answer after you rest.”

Rhysand quickly shut his eyes, his arm tightening around her waist. “I’ll wait.”

~~~~

Cassian stared at the sheet of paper lying on his bed.

Feyre and Rhysand had been hanging out in the living room, so Cassian shut himself in his room and did some research. Now that both his mother and father had passed, he needed to know if he had any other family out there. Cece was only sixteen. She deserved someone, so Cassian took it upon himself to find whoever was out there. 

And he’d found someone, one other person on the outskirts of Velaris that shared their last name and looked an awful lot like their father. 

His address was written on the back of a receipt. 

Cassian had been staring at it for nearly half an hour, wondering if he actually wanted to go through with it. If this man was related to them, how come he had never come around before?

It was worth a try.

If not for himself, then for Cecily. 

Cassian quickly pushed himself off his bed before he could change his mind.

Fifteen minutes later, after quietly sneaking past a sleeping Feyre and Rhysand, Cassian was sitting at the bus stop. He still couldn’t drive himself, both because of his injuries and the fact that the last time he was behind the wheel it didn’t turn out well.

So, he waited for the bus and once it arrived, he rode it halfway around the city before they came to his stop. He was dropped off along the Sidra where he hobbled with his crutches down the street until he found a taxi.

“Where to?” the driver asked once Cassian plopped into the backseat. 

Cassian handed him his old receipt.

The driver lifted a dark brow in the rearview mirror. “Buckle up.”

Cassian did as he was told and the driver took off. He drove Cassian another five minutes down the road before letting him off on the curb outside of a large, gated mansion.

Cassian approached the gate, a bag slung over his shoulder as he hobbled with his crutches. 

When he got to the black, iron gate, he looked around. There was no one inside. You would think that with a house so large that there would be people around, tending to the grounds. But Cassian saw no one.

He simply pressed the button on a speaker box and waited.

Without a word, the gates opened, and Cassian went inside. The path to the front door was agonizingly long. By the time he reached the set of double oak doors, Cassian was exhausted. Nonetheless, he knocked. Waited. And knocked again.

Maybe no one was home.

Maybe someone was home and didn’t want to see him.

Maybe he was wasting his time.

Just as Cassian took a step back to leave, the doors opened.

An elderly man stood in the doorway. The moment he saw Cassian, his face paled.

Cassian cleared his throat, hardly able to control his nerves. “Hello. I’m Cassian. Are you Hale Nazari?”

#tacmc void #void #nessian #feysand #elriel #elriel isnt in this chapter #but theyll be back i promise #nesta #cassian #feyre #rhysand #elain #azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #fanfic #fanfiction #acofas #9

[lilspice05]

Review time loves

Hey my lil Spicers, I know it's been a while and you've been waiting for me to post. So this week we are going to be doing something a little bit different. I'm going to be doing a movie review on a really old movie that actually has been banned in England and a few other countries for how outgoing it is. 

Which is why for this week's blog I had the pleasure of watching the crazy, out of the world, and all out weird movie called A Clockwork Orange directed by Stanley Kubrick. This film is actually based off the 1962 novel written by Anthony Burgess and took place in England. This movie itself focuses on multiple issues that society had around the 70's such as drugs, unfair laws, and high crime. Which is based on all those issues plus religion and how everyone has a devil and god side inside of them and depending on how we are winded up like a toy is the side we choose. The director's purpose of making this film was to get not just society but every person to start to realise what was right and wrong. Now I myself had been told by other people that before watching expect something weird and just plain strange. Well I definitely wasn't disappointed as their were scenes of weird men and women sitting in a bar with mankins all around drinking milk, dicks and vagins all on the walls, a woman killed with a giant dick, and even when Alex the main character played by Malcom McDowell is being tested to show he’s cured had a man yelling at him to lick his shoe and a naked women shoved into his face. I will say this as well if you are not a fan of nudity and or rape, violence, or even police brutally then this is not the movie for you. However, it is a really good movie for adults or people who want the real truth about society and it’s dark side. As Alex himself is the narrator throughout the film giving a deeper meaning. With saying that  scene that really couldn’t get out of my mind even as you are reading this was when the main character Alex was strapped down in the chair and had his eyes forcefully held open with surgical tools. They did this to the main character as an experiment to try and expel the ‘evil’ out of him, but in the process they were doing some terrible things themselves. The scientists or people who were in charge of the experiment made him watch a series of short films, twice daily. These films included rape in the form called ‘in and out’ by the main character Alex, scenes from World War II, people dressed in all white like his old so called ‘friends’ used to wear. Those so called ‘friends’, Dim and Georgie back played by Warren Clarkeand and James Marcus back home had stabbed him in the back and left him alone to deal with all the consequences of their crimes that they were accomplices too. All of these films related to Alex and really messed with his mind throughout the film. He was also given drugs that caused him to feel nauseous throughout this process so his mind would form a pattern relating to seeing these events and how he actually felt. Those in charge of the experiment were brainwashing Alex into believing that he was actually nauseous whenever he was faced with ‘evil situations leaving him vorable. The scientists even accidentally made his brain form a pattern between the music playing during these films as well and he became nauseous later on in the movie when he heard a song by Beethoven play, which happened to only be the 9th. The brainwashing changed Alex’s life and he was not prepared to go back out into the dark world that was out waiting for him. His family basically forced him out of the house, he got beat down in the streets, and then his so called ‘friends’ returned with badges and they were now cops. They took him into the woods and nearly killed him and left him to die. By the end of the movie, enough was enough for Alex and he decided he no longer wanted to live with his mind being in the state he was in and he jumped out of the window in what looked to be like a 3 story building. While this fall did not kill him, it relinquished him of his burden that the scientists had put on him. His injuries had practically erased those patterns that had formed and his mind was once again free. Alex was no longer trapped with the burden of feeling nauseous whenever something bad happened in front of him. Leading towards the end of the movie where he just finally just flips a switch and becomes the person he was before. 

If you're still here after reading all of that and slowly processing how much this film takes you through, I have to say it's a 4 out of 10 on the scale for me. It wasn't the worst movie I've ever seen but it also wasn't the best either.It was actually in my top 10 worst films though. It was just too weird for me as it was totally out of my comfort zone and differently could have been filmed in a different way to portray some of the problems as I said above differently. Also not to mention it made a renfence to being gay and how bad it was back then it was frowned upon. That wouldn't really be expected in this day of age as everyone has their opinion. That's why I wouldn't recommend this movie to really anyone unless for an example of what not to do. 

Well i’m little Spicers, it's always the best writing for you guys and gals and i hope this review gives you the insight that you needed on a film that no one really knew was still around. As always have a spicy day and I love each and every one of you. 

[victoodles]

I Have no Sweetheart but You (Arthur Morgan x F! Reader)

I’m back on my yeehaw bullshit baybee! Find on AO3!

Escapes don’t come often for Arthur - the weight of others’ expectations fall heavy on his already bad shoulders. Though he bears these burdens (as always) with a slight gruff and a spur of his horse as he goes wherever he is needed or told. On occasion it’s both.

But when he finds himself with a moment of time to call his own, he uses the luxury of choice to spend it with you. There aren’t enough hours in the day he can give to you, but he tries his best despite that shortcoming.

Patience is a virtue, and you are the human embodiment of that sentiment. You never complain, even when he is gone for weeks at a time. His basis for comparison isn’t vast, but he considers himself lucky whenever he catches an earful of the caterwauling Molly directs at Dutch most evenings.

When you hear the rhythm of his horse trotting into camp you are there to greet him with a warm smile, like clockwork. Your embrace bridges the gap between you, making him feel like he was never really gone at all. Arthur doesn’t consider himself eloquent like all those fancy romance novelists, but he thinks you feel like home.    

It comes as a surprise when Arthur asks if you would be so kind as to accompany him to the Saint Denis. Your answer is yes, of course, but you hadn’t expected him to make such an offer of his own volition. Usually when he talks about the aforementioned city (to which he considers to be the bane of civilization) his choice of vocabulary is quite...colorful.

You tease him, asking what this stranger has done with the real Arthur Morgan, and he gifts you a hearty laugh. You’ve softened his rough edges; your jests are not taken to heart and he is not crippled with self-doubt. He appreciates this carefree atmosphere you provide, it gives him room to rediscover himself after years of molding who he was to fit certain schemas.  

Tit for tat - he promises he won’t tell a certain Mr. Morgan of this illicit encounter; he saw you from across the way and was instantly captivated by your beauty. His heart took over any sense of rationality - he had to have you. He reminds you of the highbrow men you grew up around in the very city he detests, the only difference here is that he’s being genuine. That, and he’s a wanted outlaw. But you choose not to busy yourself with that minuscule detail.

You cast your hand over your chest dramatically, feigning offense. “Why, you beast! What kind of woman do you take me for?” Despite abandoning the life of a high-society woman almost a decade ago, the mannerisms are not forgotten. Arthur isn’t the only one trying to grow from past projections.

Arthur smiles sheepishly, dropping the act, and apologizing for offending his dear lady. He offers you his hand which you gladly take, finding a secure place around his arm. “Just wanted to treat ya to somethin’ nice is all,” he admits as he leads you to his Thoroughbred at the precipice of camp.

He knows you would never concede with the notion, but with all this time away he feels as if he’s been neglecting you. After years of watching John act a fool, dancing around the responsibilities of being a husband and father, he fears he might be looking in a mirror sometimes. What he wouldn’t give so you could have some sense of normalcy in an otherwise hectic life. You always gently remind him normal is rather drab, and his anxieties are temporarily assuaged for the time being.

Calloused hands take ahold of your waist as Arthur effortlessly lifts you onto the back of his horse. The action is unnecessary, he’s aware, but he relishes touching you whenever he can. You know this all too well, and gladly accept his assistance. And they say chivalry is dead.

Arthur finds his place behind you, urging the mare away from quiet campgrounds and towards the hustle and bustle of Saint Denis. He’ll put aside his disdain - you deserve time away from the dirt and debauchery despite your insistence to the contrary.

The ride is peaceful, dusk begins to grace the sky with brush strokes of pink and orange. Clouds nomadically drift along the horizon as Arthur passes the time with languid kisses to your cheeks and the side of your neck. With privacy comes his unrestricted affection. His stubble’s tickle is a more than welcome feeling against your skin.

Smog-riddled skylines of Saint Denis remind you both of your quickly approaching your destination; factory smokestacks paint the picture of civilization’s impending “progression” - much to Arthur’s chagrin. Dirt paths transition into cobblestone-riddled pathways; the steady clop of his horse’s hooves distract him from these unseemly surroundings.

He’s out of his element, he knows this, but he can survive an evening amongst the real wolves. Men in tailored suits with overly coiffed hair claiming to be peddling this and that, all in a pathetic attempt to further their life by ruining another's.

Do your worst - he’s never faced a problem that couldn’t be solved with a bullet from his Cattleman.

In front of him, you look around in a way he could only describe as nostalgic. Despite the foul memories, he can’t take away the fact that this was your home. Arthur wonders when was the last time you freely wandered these streets.

Mentally kicking himself, he doesn’t think he ever bothered to ask. His line of work focuses primarily on the day-to-day and very rarely on the when, where, and why. You understand this.

He recognizes that you don’t miss the lifestyle - a girl raised to become a rich man’s parlor piece. But maybe there’s something here, amongst the glitz and glamour, that a piece of you yearns to be a part of again.

It happened with Mary, who’s to say history won’t spare him from its vicious cycle of repetition.

He briefly entertains the thought, but it’s properly discarded and replaced with the sensation of your hand on his. You squeeze it gently, silently affirming you’re happy to be here - with him.

Joys of civilization be damned.

The sign for La Bastille Saloon is alight for the evening, bulbs twinkling faintly as they prepare to rival the stars above. Arthur hitches his horse before holding his hand out to you for the second time that day. You regard his choice of dining with a tilt of your head and a smirk. A jest of some sort most likely dancing on your tongue already.

“La Bastille? Monsieur Morgan, très bonne!”

Arthur looks at you, befuddled. “T-tray bone?”  He could be well spoken when he wanted to be, but Arthur wasn’t very cultured per se. You had to give him credit for trying though, the poor dear. A light peck on his lips will suffice. He certainly appreciates it.

“It’s French,” you explain, which does nothing to alleviate his confusion.

“I’ll take your word for it princess,” he chuckles dryly as he lowers you from the saddle.

“Merci,” you continue to tease, playfully sticking your tongue out at him. He guffaws at your impishness as you head for the saloon- tit for tat.

La Bastille exudes old-money sophistication. A place of luxury meant only for those born into the lifestyle. Posh men and women bid you both bonjour as Arthur leads you inside by the small of your back. He pays them no mind - this is a foreign game and he has no interest in learning the rules.  

The setting sun against the stained-glass windows casts an array of dulled colors against the polished wooden floor. It’s a pretty sight - Arthur momentarily feels at peace.

Obnoxious chatter about local politics and the burdens of the wealthy reminds him of where he is. While it can be nice to see how the other half live, it quickly becomes grating. He needs a drink.

In standard Arthur fashion, he pulls out your chair and you settle into a small table with a streetside view. You lean back against the plush velvet, smiling to yourself as Arthur walks briskly to the bar for a well-needed whiskey.

It’s a wonder he manages to catch the eye of the barkeep at all. There’s some washed-up socialite squawking in his ear about the city’s imminent regression into an uncivilized ruin. An attitude Arthur can agree with, though he wishes it would happen sooner rather than later.

Arthur finally gets his opportunity to order, and promptly returns to your side with a flute of champagne in hand. Your eyes light up, thanking him sweetly as you take the glass. He grins, agitation washed away as he sits down across from you. With your company always comes a sense of relief; the crosses he bears feel lighter.

He extends his glass towards your own and your smile only widens. You lean forward, elbow perched on the table with your chin in your palm. “What would you like to toast to, Mr. Morgan?” You ask him coyly, idly swirling your drink around. Again he responds with genuine, albeit rare, laughter.

“How about,” he pauses to mull over his words. There’s a list of things he’d like to celebrate, to verbally reaffirm he’s grateful for. Living to see another sunrise, the gang and their health. But ultimately he decides to go with-

“Us.” It’s the one that feels right.

You’re beaming at this point as you raise your glass.

“To us.”

The two of you officially start the evening with a harmonious clink.

***

“A-and I told the purty lady tha’ Micah, the s-slithery snake, had said some ‘ungentlemanly’ things bout’ her.” Arthur emphasizes aforementioned things with air quotes. He takes a generous swing of his whiskey and proceeds with his drunken tale. You’re hanging onto his every word.

“She practically had STEAM coming out er’ ears when she got to the bastard. Slapped him s-SO hard, Micah blacked out! Went down like a sack o’ b-bricks!” Arthur exclaims. You squeak in surprise before taking a less than dainty sip of your fifth helping of champagne. You’ve lost count for your cowboy.

Arthur looks side to side, checking if the coast was clear. “Now don’t go tellin’ nobody darlin’ but,” he hunches over the table and whispers, “I lied to that gal. I jus’ wanted to see her mess Micah up somethin’ fierce.” You put a hand over your mouth to contain the onslaught of giggles that wrack your chest.

“Arthur! Tu es un coquin,” you chide playfully. He responds to your “scolding” with a chuckle of his own - you had taught him some French over dinner. He had to admit he found the language rather beautiful. Or maybe it was you speaking it that he found to be beautiful. He quickly concludes it was the latter.

A lively tinkle of piano keys suddenly catches Arthur’s ear. The pianist plays a jaunty tune with a gusto that has him tapping his foot in tandem. He never thought much of those fancy records Dutch played, but there was an undeniable wonder that live music encapsulated. “Well would ya listen to that darlin’,” he says with an impressed whistle. You’re clapping along softly as well, delighted with Arthur’s childlike fascination.

“I used to play you know,” you say with a swell of pride. While almost nothing in your youth was learned voluntarily, you are grateful for your musical prowess.

The sillies come back full swing when Arthur’s eyes widen and his mouth gapes in awe. “You used to tickle the ivories?!”

“I dabbled,” you shrugged nonchalantly, biting your lip to refrain from grinning madly. “Piano and violin.” Arthur looks at you like you’re otherworldly. Your cheeks are heating up from the intensity of his gaze.

“Darlin’ you,” Arthur is  rendered speechless for a beat, “you are incredible.” His sincerity is palpable, it practically sweetens the last drops of your champagne. Your blush spreads when his hand finds yours, softly tracing your knuckles with his thumb.

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear shyly. The more delicate sides to Arthur’s nature are reserved for you (and occasionally Jack). But regardless of your exposure, you still feel the fluttering of your heart like that of a lovesick schoolgirl. “Arthur,” you say his name so melodically each time, he can hardly believe it belongs to him.

He interrupts you (unintentionally) when he notices you’ve both topped off your drinks. “Oh! It looks like we’ve run dry,” he pushes himself up and gathers up both of your glasses. “I’ll go fetch us some more.” You reach for his arm, hoping he’ll let you pay for this round. He’s old fashioned, in a good-hearted way, and simply won’t hear it.

“Now you just stay here and keep our seats warm, princess,” he says with a quick kiss to your cheek. Arthur swaggers away before you could try to get smart with him. You opt to blow a raspberry at him instead.

You turn to the streets outside your window. Evening had cascaded into night, the end to yet another day. Shop owners had closed up and were hurrying home to their wives, beggars to their respective allies. Everyone seemed to have a routine, a place to be. You were born here, yes, traversing these streets countless times as a girl. Yet now you felt like nothing more than a ghost - a mere drifter.

How passing strange.

“Goooood evenin’ ladies and gentlemen!” Arthur’s booming voice pulls you from your thoughts. You whip your head around to find him standing atop the saloon’s grand ebony piano. His quest for drinks apparently abandoned, as evident by the two empty glasses left on the stairs. You’re no match for the giggles this time around.

The bar is eerily silent. Everyone directs their attention at Arthur, expressions ranging from horrified to absolute bewilderment. The ex-starlette nested by the bar actually looks amused for the first time all night. An unsure pianist holds a crisp dollar bill from Arthur as he awaits further instructions.

“I wanna sing a ditty for that,” he points to you, “pretty lil’ peach o’er there!” All the women look to you, wanting to satiate their morbid curiosity and practically shaking from secondhand embarrassment. How would a lady respond to such an inebriated act of buffoonery?!

You’re certainly no caliber of lady they’ve ever seen.

Much to their surprise, you’re positively radiant during Arthur’s pleasantly uncharacteristic address. He very much was the type to speak softly and carry a big stick. But with the help of some liquid courage, he’s publicly showcasing his devotion like the fool in love he is. It’s a good look for him. Arthur smiles from ear to ear, blowing you a kiss. He turns back to the pianist and nods, being counted in by a few gentle chords.

“I have no sweetheart but you, dear. You are the one that I love.”  

You audibly gasp at his choice of lovers’ ballad, a sensual tune that had many a young girl dreaming wistfully about romance. While Arthur’s rough, low slurring isn’t what the composer had in mind, the allure isn’t lacking. A few of the previously judgmental women (though they would never admit it) seemed to turn envious at the attention you were receiving. Some unlucky husbands were definitely in for it tonight.

You pay the pettiness no mind, you’re too focused on your own personal performer.

“Close to my heart I would hold you, there where the roses once grew. While in the silence I told you, that I had no sweetheart but you!”  

Arthur feels strangely lighter, unburdened by his role in the gang - in the world even. Pinkertons, Cornwall, Dutch, it all fades away. There’s just you and him - a man and a woman in love. Simplicity has never sounded so divine.

“Say that you always will love me. For I have no sweetheart but you.”  

You’re already cheering before Arthur can bring his song to a close. It encourages a handful of others to also applaud, paired with some catcalling from a certain regular near the bar. Arthur has never been fond of being the center of attention, but right now you swear he’s thriving in the spotlight.

He’s reveling in it, until he isn’t.  

Arthur is swaying atop the piano, his balance leaving him as all that alcohol finally takes its toll. He’s an imposing fellow, but the cruel mistress called whiskey can knock any man down. Literally.

The pianist pushes away from the piano, fearing not just for his nerves but now his physical well-being should this cowboy collapse on him.

To Arthur’s credit, he doesn’t.

“Thank yew and g’night, Saint Denis,” he says woozily just before he falls to the floor with a hard thud. You yelp in shock as you shoot up from the table, knocking your chair over in the process. Saloon patrons don’t know who to watch at this point. Arthur, flat on his back mumbling dreamily to himself. Or you politely shoving your way through a throng of people to reach him. They soon decide to return to their own evenings, having been involuntary participants in your own for long enough.

You take a quick detour to clumsily toss a few coins the bartender’s way. At this point, a bed for the night is not a choice but the only option. Arthur decides he must be the luckiest man alive as he sees not one, but two of you heading his way.

#vic's fics! #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #i love one (1) cowboah #he's so soft and deserves all the kisses