#and i still feel pretty shitty but like. ive already been out a week and i miss a ton of school already mc migraines | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twodimecastle · 3 years

Text

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #dr spencer reid #my writing #spencer reid fluff

277 notes · View notes

mostlymaudlin · 2 years

Note

I don't remember the numbers lmao. Teacher AU + Interrupted Declaration of Love. Maybe also Locked in a room 👀

YESSS THESE ARE SO GOOD. i accidentally went off so I’ll put a cut in lol.

okay so. they work at a middle school, so you already know it’s gonna be trouble. baz teaches the language arts intervention classes, meaning he works with kids who need extra reading & writing support. simon is the school social worker. they’ve been working together all year because let’s be honest a lot of their students overlap! and there’s like a weird undertone between them that they can never address because they’re always surrounded by kids and idk just take it from me it’s hard to flirt around middle schoolers they see everything and they’re merciless. and neither of them rly partake in staff bonding events bc that shits lame.

now theyre both working summer school — so take all the chaos already here and multiply it by 10. the thing about summer school is that it’s four weeks of hell and the trauma bonding amongst staff is intense. after the first week, the administrator takes everyone out for drinks after work. simon and baz stay out after everyone leaves because they’re having so much fun and it gets flirtier and flirtier until… simon invites baz to go home with him! and they fuck but they kind of decide it’s not a good time for them to start dating (even tho they’ve both got crushes). so now they’re doing this weird friends w benefits thing “to ease the stress” as summer school goes on.

cue the last day of summer school, after the kids go home. everyone is cleaning up camp and putting stuff away and simon and baz end up getting asked to go put something in the basement, which is really spooky and kind of gross. neither of them realized the door locks automatically so they get stuck in the basement (obviously). and now they’re alone and there’s like 45 minutes until they’re not in summer school anymore and what does that mean for them? and they’re being so awkward and self-sabotaging and baz just looks rly pretty and kind of sad in the shitty pale yellow basement light, and simons internally like, FUCK IT, we are basically dating right now and it would be worse to work with him this fall and wonder than it would be to work with an ex in the future (but honestly, he can’t imagine why he would ever break up with baz) and he crowds up into bazs space and he’s gonna TELL HIM HOW HE FEELS AND THEN… someone comes looking for them and opens the door.

and then they’re around people finishing up the work day. and then they’re in the parking lot and then they’re both saying their too tired to do a last round of drinks with the rest of the staff. and then simons watching baz drive out of the parking lot in his stupid pretty vintage mustang. simon just sits there in the parking lot ruminating. five minutes later, he still hasn’t left, and bazs car peels back into the parking lot. he parks so crooked and doesn’t turn the engine off and storms toward simons toyota corolla.

simon gets out of the car, confusesd. he’s like, “what’s wrong?” because baz looks fucking livid, but baz doesn’t answer — he pushes simon against the car and winds his fingers into his hair and kisses the shit out of him. simon pulls away after a few seconds, because he needs baz to know.

“it wasn’t just for fun,” he says, breath ragged. “it wasn’t just stress-relief. i don’t want us to be over.”

and baz leans his forehead against simons, eyes squeeze shut, and nods.

“it wasn’t that for me, either,” baz murmurs. “it was always more than that.”

the words send a shiver down simons spine. his hands are on bazs shoulders, but he moves them up to cup bazs cheeks, pulling his face forward to brush their mouths together.

“i want you to be my boyfriend,” simon breathes against bazs lips. he feels baz inhale sharply, feels his fingers tighten in simons hair.

baz kisses simon instead of answering, to which simon pushes him away and demands assurances. and ofc baz is like duh ive been yearning for so long please don’t make me talk abt it it’s embarrassing. and then they’re like omg this one kid who always tells them that she “ships” them is gonna be absolutely demonic if the kids figure out they’re dating in the fall. but like they’re in LOVE it’s worth it to be taunted by middle schoolers if they get to have each other 🥰

#my writing

48 notes · View notes

serowotonin · 3 years

Text

falling ; bakugou k.

pairing ( bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ) wordcount ( 2.4k ) genre ( fluff & basically pining )

↷ a hc-styled narrative describing the four stages bakugou katsuki goes through as he finds himself falling for you . . .

STAGE I ( impression ) ;

the first time bakugou laid eyes on you was during the entrance exam at UA.

back then, you were just another face in the crowd of faces he was going to have to beat to earn his spot in UA

the first time bakugou spoke to you wasn’t memorable to him either

like with everyone else, he was loud and rude and made it very clear he wasn’t interested in playing friends

after that you became a part of the class, just another extra, someone who’d just get in the way

that was all he thought you were…

until you kicked todoroki’s ass one day during training

the teachers had paired everyone in the class and told you to practice your 1-on-1 combat skills using your quirk

bakugou, who was paired with kirishima went first

you and todoroki were to be the last pair

despite a good effort put up by kirishima, bakugou still ended up winning that round

when it was finally yours and todoroki’s turn, bakugou paid extra attention

in his mind, he knew todoroki was powerful and someone to watch out for

but what happened was quite unexpected

you maneuvered easily through todoroki’s attacks with a combination of physical prowess and creative usage of your quirk

let’s just say his ice didn’t work on you and he was caught off guard, allowing you to snatch a win

needless to say, most of your classmates were a bit surprised at first

bakugou included

they knew you were strong but they didn’t know you were that skilled

whatever the rest of the class thought didn’t matter to bakugou though

all he knew was that now he had to keep an eye on you

STAGE II ( perspective ) ;

after that event, bakugou did indeed keep his eye on you

it started off with him observing your moves whenever the class had to do any training exercises

he saw you fight with todoroki a couple more times after that

those didn’t end in easy victory for you as it did before because todoroki was now more wary of you

however, the way you evaded and countered his attacks was something to be praised

in bakugou’s subconscious opinion at least

your moves were carefully thought out and bakugou could see that

he could see the effort and practice you had put into perfecting them

not only that, he could also see the natural talent that you had to be able to become this strong

and it wasn’t only your fighting capabilities

you were also smart

maybe he hadn’t noticed it before but he did now

you seemed to always know the answer when a teacher called on you and your grades were great

slowly, but surely, you gained respect in his eyes

if he knew one thing about you, it was that you were maybe the tiniest bit better than the other extras

for a while it stayed like this, him acknowledging you but never making it obvious and you just doing your thing

that was of course until one day in the morning before class started

mina, kirishima, and sero were talking about things as they usually were and somehow the conversation led to you

they were talking about how strong and smart you were and going on about stuff

bakugou must’ve turned his head in their direction or something but mina noticed him listening so asked him cheekily what he thought of you

“y/n? of course they’re strong. anyone could see that.”

he said that pretty loudly and didn’t seem to notice you walking into the classroom

and of course you heard

“did my ears deceive or did the bakugou katsuki just praise me?” you teased

he was pretty embarrassed, blushing and sweating a bit but trying to hide it

soon after though, class started and the ordeal was forgotten

but something about that interaction led to you and bakugou becoming closer

closer in that instead of passing the other off as another strong classmate as you usually would, you’d actually greet each other and talk

you’d say hello to him in the mornings and goodbye after school and he’d just grunt or nod your way

but this was what it meant to be close to bakugou anyway

during the weeks that passed, bakugou found himself noticing you even more

before he only paid attention to your skills and thought about you as an enemy or rival of sorts

now it seems as if he’s just noticing the little things about you and your personality that make you who you were

he wasn’t doing it on purpose god forbid

no no it was just him being unknowingly observant

weeks turned into months and months turned into years

in a blink of an eye, you were all well in your second year

with everything that happened, you and bakugou became close

close enough for you to tease him at random times and close enough for him to ask you to fight him as training

by then it was safe to say bakugou knew you

he knew the little quirks you had

he knew your different smiles, your different laughs

he knew your favorite foods and your not so favorite ones

he knew the many different little things that made you you

STAGE III ( contradiction ) ;

before the start of the third year, the class decided to have a little get-together party of sorts

to celebrate the start of their last year in high school and to catch up as everyone’s been busy with internships and whatnot

you spent the break away from tokyo so it’s been a while since you saw the rest of the class

naturally you were excited to be able to meet them all casually again before the intense studying and training that awaited you all

bakugou, on the other hand, wasn’t too excited

frankly, he could do without seeing the class before school

but when he heard you were going to be there, he also agreed to go

so there you two were with the rest of the class at a cinema buying drinks and popcorn before your movie started

the neon lights and the prospect of popcorn lit up your face and bakugou couldn’t help but stare

there was just something, something he couldn’t quite figure out

it’s not that you were beautiful, it’s not that you looked cute in that outfit, it’s not that your smile was making his heart flutter

no it wasnt any of that true though they may be

you just.. you looked nice

thats why he was staring

yeah he hasn’t seen you in a while and you come back looking *nice*

of course he would stare

anyone would

apparently you had noticed him staring though, so you sent a wink and a grin his way before turning back to the popcorn and drinks

in other words, you killed him

with ridiculously high levels of cute and nice

kirishima and sero were just watching the whole thing happen and hell was it obvious to them

their boi was falling hard

now they knew he’d never admit it and they knew you weren’t likely to do anything about his “crush” even if it was obvious to you too

so…

while bakugou was busy helping you carry your popcorn, they devised a rather devious plan

operation: jelly burst

objective? none other than to make explody boiy jealous

for what reason? no reason really it’s just fun to mess with him and this is probably the first time he’s had this big a crush

once everyone finished buying popcorn and was walking into the cinema, operation: jelly burst was put into action

“hey y/n ! come sit next to me” — sero

so you did, nothing strange bout that, sero was a good of yours anyway, nothing strange at all

bakugou moved to come sit next to you too but kiri hurried past him and sat down on your other side before he could

“oh hey bakubro didn’t see ya there sorry”

the seat kirishima stole was the last seat on the aisle

and bakugou was forced to go sit somewhere else

alone

poor guy</3

the seat he found was a few rows above yours though and all went according to the jelly burst plan

by the end of the movie, bakugou was in the foulest mood and no one, except for the 2 lads sitting on either side of y/n, knew why

operation: jelly burst didnt end there though

see they got him jelly but they haven’t gotten him to burst

the next week at school, kirishima and sero both acted really nice to you

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary but they did talk to you just a tad bit more than usual

either way bakugou noticed big time and he did not like it

he did not like it one bit

the jelly was there alright

it was just boiling to unprecedented levels

pretty soon, the boys dumped the idea of operation: jelly burst

mainly cos it was taking too long

but also because bakugou had become at least 10x more hostile

except to you of course

for some reason, a reason absolutely no one could figure out(sarcasm intended), he was just

quiet around you

didnt yell but didnt really talk to you either

whenever anyone else, kiri and sero especially, tried to talk to him though, he’d shout louder and be a lot ruder to them

he’s just agitated

and he knew why he was that way

he’s just in denial about it

he’s also in denial about the reason why

why couldn’t he just accept his feelings and act on it already?

kirishima asked him that one day in the dorms

he saw bakugou staring very intensely straight at you without blinking for a full minute

“look man, don’t even try to tell me you don’t like y/n. it’s obvious and i’m not an idiot. you aren’t either.”

“i know shitty hair. it’s just… i’m me. and she’s y/n. nothing’s ever gonna happen.”

“you don’t know that”

“but i do. cmon, she’s just so fucking perfect even with all her flaws. and i’m just the loud guy with exploding hands and no emotions.”

kiri was surprised honestly

this wouldn’t be the first time bakugou was insecure around him but the way bakugou talked about you and how he implied he wasn’t worthy

damn that hit kirishima

“bakubro, i’m gonna help you”

STAGE IV ( intimacy ) ;

ever since he told kirishima abt what’s been bothering him about you and ever since kirishima declared he’d help, bakugou became more…

quiet

he was still loud, but he just became a soft kind of loud now(?)

it was like he got calmer and he was assured that things would be okay

of course things were not okay

why? because ever since bakugou fully accepted his feelings for you, he doesnt know how to act around you

the other day you asked him what he wanted to eat for dinner cause you were cooking tonight

his answer:

“you”

“umm..”

“-you can make anything you want. i’ll eat whatever.”

that and a lot of other little awkward incidents started occurring

also maybe it was just the weather but he always seemed red whenever you saw him

it wasn’t the weather though

it was him being shy and nervous and flustered

which made bakusquad extremely weirded out cause seeing him like that is like seeing aizawa cheerfully smiling and wearing bright color clothes

it was weird af and was just not right

anyway, mina’s advice to him was to try to get closer to you

“but we’re already close”

“no i mean closer on a personal level. ask her how her day was or ask her random stuff about her likes and dislikes or her hobbies or literally anything”

“oh… ok then”

and so he tried that

he tried getting closer to you by greeting you every morning and sometimes asking you if you slept well

you found it odd

it certainly was odd, but you didn’t mind

if you ask him why he asks about your sleep he just goes red and says he needs to make sure his opponent for his afternoon sparring session is well-rested and healthy

speaking of the sparring sessions…

he asks you to spar more often than usual and actually makes small talk during your breaks

he was also a lot nicer to you, offering to help carry stuff for you and assisting you in the little things

like getting a mug from the kitchen’s high shelves or picking up the pencil you accidentally dropped

what he did worked though and within a few weeks, the two of you got a lot closer

the next step, as mina put it, was “making sure she knew you weren’t interested in her as a friend”

now that was hard for bakugou to do

“it’s not that hard. you could just tell her.”

bakugou: ..??

“basically confess”

bakugou: wha- *shortcircuits*

CONFESSING

he never thought about that

he actually has

he knew in his mind he’d have to do it eventually if he wanted to have you

but he didn’t think it would be *this soon*

“dont think that much and just tell her you like her”

“you’re making it sound easy”

“because it is!”

he groaned internally

he’s faced tons of villains and been in quite the number of fearful situations but the fear he felt now was completely different

“look if you’re afraid of rejection just confess like this”

*sero clears throat*

“*y/n i like you and i would like to be something more than friends. i’m not going to pressure you into anything so if yoh don’t want to we can just pretend this never happened>:)”

“...”

bakugou ended up confessing the next day though

just not like that

it was a spur of a moment thing and he wasn’t really aware he said it until you responded

the two of you were sparring as usual and you had just gotten close enough to knock him down and pin him to the ground

in that moment you were just so beautiful and amazing and everything and he just couldn’t keep it in apparently

“i like you”

“w-what?”

“what?”

“did you just say you liked me?”

“like not liked dumbass”

“:o present tense o:”

well long story short, you like him too and you tell him that and you two just sit there grinning like idiots

from then on things didn’t change much

you and bakugou still talked, although maybe more than usual

and still sparred with each other, although maybe less seriously and more playfully

some were surprised when it became known you were together

some weren’t

whatever other people thought though, they couldn’t deny one thing:

bakugou looked at you as if you were the world

STAGE ∞︎ ( fallen ) .

note ; i started writing this soo long ago but then abandoned it cuz thats just me:”] bUT i decided that since its his birthday i might as well finish it up and finally post it u.u,,, also TYSM @animebsposts for helping me with this ily and ur amazing<3

taglist ; ( send ask to be added ! ) @lilikags

#happy birthday ya big cute bomb boy<3 #bakugou x reader #bnha #www.pink-ink.com/writing #/hcs

291 notes · View notes

lvnce-mcclain · 2 years

Text

i think i belong to you (hope you feel the same)

By @lvnce-mcclain for @trinipedia for the @911ficexchange

Rating: M

Relationships: Buck/Eddie

Characters: Buck, Eddie, Christopher, Carla, the 118, Ana, Frank

Summary:

Buck’s taking him to therapy, where he knows Eddie’s therapist’s name and Eddie’s entire history with him; Buck, who let himself into Eddie’s house with food from Eddie’s favorite coffee shop with coffee crafted perfectly for Eddie’s tastes; Buck, who apparently has a book on Eddie’s coffee table with so many dog-eared pages it’s like any interruption at Eddie’s house is worth putting it down.

Buck, who touches him with a devotion as palpable as all the little pieces of himself scattered throughout Eddie's home.

Eddie thinks he might have solved his own question, but he’s afraid to look at the answer too closely—because he’s fairly certain his best friend is in love with him, and Eddie can’t remember a single thing about him.

Or, the one where Eddie wakes up from the shooting only to think he was hurt in a certain 7.1 earthquake years prior and learns to appreciate the life he's created for himself since then.

[Read on ao3] or below the cut

Eddie has had some pretty piss-poor starts to his day throughout his life.

When he was shot out of the sky and barely survived a helicopter crash in Afghanistan, he didn’t wake up feeling grateful to be alive—he had woken up with gut-wrenching regret already eating away at his tired bones for not bringing everyone back to the base alive. The day Shannon left, it had felt like any other morning—until he read Shannon’s note and his entire world had been flipped upside down.

The first day he woke up in LA after their move, it had felt like every molecule of air in his sparse room had dried up in his lungs and he choked on the realization he left every safety net he ever knew back in El Paso.

So, yeah. Eddie’s had his fair share of shitty mornings—and yet this one was already on its way to the top of the list and he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he woke up slowly, he thinks. It would be fine if he had time to adjust to the sharp-numb-aching pain in his shoulder and the cold drip of an IV in his hand. Instead, he goes from nothing to everything, all at once.

“Christopher,” Eddie gasps with sudden clarity. His eyes shut as quickly as they opened—the light is loudly fluorescent and immediately burns. But then his brain starts tripping over itself trying to remember why urgency is important anyway. There was an earthquake—7.1, the first one since he moved to LA a few weeks back—and he hadn’t heard from Chris all day. They had been in a crumbling sky-rise and despite Buckley’s insistence of the building’s structural integrity, Eddie must have been right to be skeptical if it landed him in this hospital bed.

“Shh, Edmundo, it’s okay. Christopher is okay. Lie back down, your shoulder shouldn’t be strained right now.“ There’s gentle hands trying to push him back against the scratchy hospital pillows, and when Eddie blinks his eyes open again they’re met with a face so concerned it’s disconcerting—he definitely doesn’t know this woman well enough for her to be distressed. And wait—

“What did you call me?” Eddie shakes his head against the name he left in El Paso, before he asks, quicker this time, “And who are you? How do you know Chris?” He thinks maybe she could be one of his teachers—he hasn’t gotten the chance to meet them all yet, mostly on purpose since he’s still been looking for a school better equip to handle Chris’ needs—but that still doesn’t answer why she’s here.

The woman is speechless for a moment. There’s a flash of hurt in her eyes Eddie would normally probably feel bad about, but anxiety is rising in his chest as he realizes something just isn’t right and there’s a growing suspicion burning up the air in his lungs that it’s him.

“I—“ The woman clears her throat before her face goes carefully blank. “I’m going to go get your doctor.”

Eddie doesn’t know if being left alone makes him feel better or worse, but he doesn’t get long to figure it out before the woman returns with a taller woman who must be his doctor. They both wear looks of concern, but the doctor’s is more clinical and somehow that is worse.

“My name is Dr. Tamara Pierce. I need to ask you a few questions and if at any time you need a break, we can stop, okay?”

There’s a heartbeat too long before Eddie realizes he’s supposed to answer, but that same heartbeat is a choking weight in his throat so all he gets out is a nod.

“What is your name?”

“Eddie Diaz.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“A hospital. Hopefully one in LA.” The doctor quirks her lips up at him but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Shit. “I—“ Eddie swallows hard, and the movement is enough to send a twinge through his shoulder. “Was hurt. My shoulder?”

Dr. Pierce levels him with a look that’s somehow kind but also expresses just what she thinks about guessing. “How were you hurt, Mr. Diaz?”

Eddie closes his eyes, breathes out deeply. “I…don’t know. I think—it must have been at work?” When he opens his eyes, it’s met with a hopeful expression on the woman who he woke up to. He averts his gaze and stares right at the doctor when he says, “It has to be related to the earthquake—that 7.1—right? I had to be injured when we were trying to reach someone stuck at the top of a high-rise, but I—“ Out of his periphery, that hope has died off her face. “I don’t remember what happened after I entered the building.”

Dr. Pierce nods and writes something down quickly. “And what year is it, Mr. Diaz?”

Eddie may not have been at the 118 long, but he’s assessed enough head wounds while on active duty to know why everything seems just a little off to him.

His fingers grip the starched hospital sheets when he answers, “2018.”

Dr. Pierce breathes out through her nose, not quite a sigh, but it holds the same weight. “Alright. Thank you, Mr. Diaz. We’re going to have to run some more tests, but you appear to have some form of acute amnesia.”

The look she gives him isn’t pity so much as an acknowledgement of the work he has ahead of him, and he’s grateful for it. He doesn’t think he could take the weight of someone’s pity right now; he feels fractured, like the small sliver of control over his life he’d finally gathered up is slipping through a thousand fissures in his skin. He can barely listen to the rest of the conversation. His vision tunnels in on his hands, shaking against the sheets in his grip.

“So—so what does that mean? Is he going to be okay?” The woman asks quickly, stepping around Eddie’s bed.

Dr. Pierce flips through Eddie’s chart and the sound itches against his ears, too loud and sharp. “I’m sorry Ms. Flores, but I won’t have more information until we run more tests. I need to contact his power of attorney due to the nature of this injury, but there’s a few blood tests we can run in the meantime —“

That finally gets Eddie’s attention. He’d switched his medical POA over to his abuela when he moved, and the thought of having a familiar face around makes his chest ache but another priority presses against his ribs harder. “My abuela, she probably has my son and I don’t want—I can’t let him see—“

Dr. Pierce looks through his chart once more, her eyes scanning the page. “You have an Evan Buckley listed here.”

Eddie’s stomach drops at the same time the woman takes a sharp inhale. “That can’t be right, I just updated it, I—“ This doesn’t make sense, he barely even likes his partner at work, why would he—why—

Eddie’s chest is cold and hollow when he finally asks, “What year is it?”

Dr. Pierce’s mouth is a firm, unwavering line even as her eyes soften with empathy.

“It’s 2021, Mr. Diaz.”

~—~

The woman, he finds out, is his girlfriend—Ana Flores.

It’s almost surprising how numb he feels about dating again—how he must have moved on from Shannon, yet he can’t muster up any disappointment. All those nights he’s spent since she left staring at the wedding band gathering dust on his nightstand, and he can’t even remember when he stopped feeling guilty about chasing her away.

There’s something infuriatingly poetic about that. Eddie has always hated poetry, though, and at least that hasn’t changed.

He tries to ask about it all once and the look on Ana’s afterward face twists something inside his stomach. She skirts the question, so he asks more general questions that she only answers vaguely. She doesn’t have many answers to Dr. Pierce’s questions over Eddie’s history either, so Eddie tells himself it’s because their relationship must be pretty new. She hasn’t run from the hospital yet though, despite how awkward this must be for her.

Eddie wonders if that’s one of the things he liked about her—before the shame at not even knowing why he asked the woman out in the first place settles into the growing, gnawing pit of anxiety in his stomach and pushes the thought away.

When Buck finally arrives at the hospital, it’s with Abuela in tow. He doesn’t have enough time to be surprised at that before Abuela commands his attention.

“Oh, nieto—Eddie, I was so worried.” Abuela reaches his side as soon as she’s through the door, smothering his face in kisses.

The pit feels a little more shallow as he huffs out a laugh. The tension that had been tangling in his shoulders—coiled tight like he could break any moment—releases the moment he smells her jasmine and rose perfume. She’s worn the same one since he was a kid, and the familiarity stings as much as it comforts him.

“I’m okay, Abuela, I’m fine—“

“You’re not,” Abuela insists, her hands fluttering about his forehead before decidedly smoothing back his hair. Her eyes soften. “But you will be, that I know.”

Eddie raises his hand to hold the one she pats against his face one more time before he realizes, “Wait, if you’re here—is Chris with Pepa?”

At this, Buck steps forward. He had somehow blended in with the doorframe—his shoulders are bulkier than Eddie remembers but they’re bunched like if he tries hard enough, they’ll all forget he’s there.

“He uh—he wanted to come, but I didn’t think it would be a good idea.” There’s a flare of irritation in Eddie’s chest at the thought of someone he barely knows making decisions for his son, even if he agrees with it. “He’s with Carla—uh, she’s his home aid.”

“She’s very good with Christopher,” Abuela assures Eddie, like that’s the only reason uneasiness would be reflecting off his face. “He adores her.”

“I don’t like not knowing who my son is with,” Eddie says before he can think much of it.

A silence blankets them all at the reminder of his condition.

He knows it isn’t fair; he’s sure that if he hired this Carla, he would have fully vetted her. And he would never have kept someone around that Chris didn’t like. Still—the unknowing twists between his ribs and makes it hard to breathe.

He tries to clutch at something he can control. “Can he stay with you overnight, Abuela?”

His grandmother exchanges a look with Buck that Eddie doesn’t know how to decipher, and the thought itches beneath his skin.

“It may be better for him to have the familiarity of his own home, nieto,” Abuela tells him gently.

“Could you stay with him at home, then?”

Another look between them. Eddie is about to ask what the hell that’s all about, but then finally Abuela turns to Eddie with a placating smile. “We’ll get Christopher taken care of, my love. Don’t worry.”

Eddie’s about to ask what that’s even supposed to mean before Ana clears her throat.

“Well—hopefully they’ll be able to release you soon, Edmundo. Now that Buck is here—“ Ana’s encouragement trips over Buck’s name, her eyes resolutely staying on Eddie’s while she takes his hand. Eddie had forgotten she was in the room still. “The doctor will be able to move forward, right?”

Her eyes flit to Buck, who is back to standing as close to the door as he can manage. He looks guilty when he looks back at Ana. Curiously, he won’t look at Eddie.

“Uh, right. Right. I’m going to go find her, see what I need to—yeah. I’ll be back.” Buck looks ready to bolt, but he turns to Abuela first. “Abuela, do you need anything? I can bring something back from the cafeteria or get you a coffee—I know you were up all night, so—“

“Go, Evan,” Abuela reaches one hand up to pat at Buck’s cheek the same way she did to Eddie moments ago. “I have my nieto and a chair—these old bones can rest now.”

Buck’s laugh is a tired thing, but he nods before finally leaving.

The door behind him shuts and Abuela settles into the chair at the side of Eddie’s bed with a deep sigh. There’s so much Eddie wants to ask her—she’s the only familiarity he’s trying desperately not to grasp onto too tight. The exposure of asking any of those questions is too much for him, though; asking means accepting he doesn’t know the answers, and that acknowledgement presses against all his edges in all the wrong places.

Plus, it feels too personal when they’re not alone.

“I still don’t quite understand why Buck needs to give permission for anything.” Ana’s voice cuts through the silence. “I mean, it’s not like Edmundo is incapacitated—he’s awake, he should be able to make his own decisions.”

Admittedly, Eddie has had the same thought a few times; he doesn’t like the idea of a virtual stranger making any of his medical decisions when he’s perfectly capable of making his own right now. The doctor had assured Eddie all major decisions would be given to him for final say but that in his condition, his medical POA had to be kept informed since informed consent is a difficult thing to give when you’re missing a lot of crucial information about yourself.

“Evan will make the right decision, whatever is needed,” Abuela replies with a confidence that surprises Eddie.

Ana looks just as surprised as she stands at the foot of his bed, staring at Abuela. She folds her arms across her chest; on someone else it might look defiant, but she just looks uncomfortable.

“Still, it just…Doesn’t seem right.”

The tension that creeps over them begins suffocating Eddie. Before Abuela can defend Buck any more, he clears his throat.

“Uh—Ana,” Eddie starts, tripping over having to actually address his own (apparent) girlfriend. “Would you mind finding my nurse and seeing if I can get something to eat? My head is starting to hurt.” He’s not hungry, but he’s not lying about the headache forming behind his brows. Ana opens up with the opportunity to do something and easily agrees.

Once she leaves, the rest of the tension in Eddie’s shoulders finally releases.

With a sigh, he falls back against the thin hospital mattress. He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes and prays to a God he barely believes in that this has all just been a long, exhausting dream.

“Oh, Eddito,” Abuela sighs, and he hears her chair scoot closer before her fingers wrap around his bicep. “I know this must be hard.”

“I’m just so confused,” Eddie breathes out, dropping his hands. Abuela’s fingers take his limp ones between her own. Admitting it out loud helps release some of the pressure that had been building in his head, but it leaves room for the fear of the truth to start bubbling up. He’s lost three years of his life, and everything he’s apparently built for himself is so unfamiliar it burns like tears in his eyes.

“I know, cariño, I know. But you will get through this. You have more support that you know now. You are not alone in this.”

Eddie knows it’s supposed to comfort him. He knows the idea of having people who want to help him, be there for him, was unfamiliar long before he lost his memory—and knows how hard it must have been for him to allow people in enough to give him that support.

Still, when he tries to picture all these faceless people who supposedly love him, he just feels alone.

~—~

Thankfully, Buck and Ana are both scarce after that. Ana has to go back to work between a MRI Eddie has to have and a CT scan, and Buck leaves soon after he comes back from talking with Dr. Pierce. He was mostly needed to confirm Eddie’s medical history is up to date and to give them a framework for the years he’s missing. He comes back only to update them and tell Abuela that Pepa would be picking her up at the end of visiting hours before he slips back out with barely a glance in Eddie’s direction.

It’s a little easier to breathe when it’s just Eddie and Abuela left, but then even she has to leave. He grows more and more restless as he fights off the morphine-induced drowsiness throughout the night while trying to pull memories out of the void with a growing desperation.

It’s almost a relief when he’s given an official diagnosis of post-traumatic dissociative amnesia the next day. His doctor delivers the news with some trauma specialist at her side, about how sometimes the brain tries to protect itself from a traumatic event by forgetting certain things or people—or sometimes entire chunks of time, like in Eddie’s case.

Then they carefully explain to him the reason he’s at the hospital in the first place. The fact he was shot is less shocking than he feels it probably should be; the ache in his shoulder is a familiar one, and he half wonders if his body remembered how to deal with the pain even if he doesn’t remember getting shot this time.

It’s decidedly all less of a relief when he’s told the only things they can prescribe are time and therapy.

He almost wishes there was something physically wrong with his brain if it meant some surgery or medicine could fix it, but instead he’s just told to take it easy and surround himself with people who can “cultivate a supportive and caring environment” which is the most bullshit prescription Eddie has ever received, he thinks.

He gets released later that afternoon with the caveat he reports tomorrow for his first official therapy appointment, but that feels far enough away he refuses to deal with it until he has to. It’s the same way he feels about actually getting to see Christopher—as much as he wants to see his son, he’s terrified of getting to a home he’d only just started getting used to and somehow explaining to Chris he can’t remember. He’s stopped himself from wondering too much how many things he doesn’t remember his son doing; it feels too much like the nights in the desert he would wonder what milestones he was missing.

The closer he gets to going home, the harder it gets to picture how he’s going to deal with it all.

Ana picks him up from the hospital. Eddie honestly doesn’t know how she knows to be there, but she brushes it away with an explanation involving coordinating with Buck, and Eddie stops listening with little guilt. Buck is another thing he doesn’t know how to deal with yet and that list is growing too fast for his comfort so he shoves it to the back of the mind.

The universe, however, has a of a sense of humor Eddie doesn’t appreciate when they arrive to his house and a Jeep that’s barely familiar to him is sitting beside his aunt’s beat up old Subaru.

It’s enough to distract Eddie from worrying about what he’s going to say Chris, so when Ana leads him inside he’s nearly bowled over with spindly legs and a pair of crutches.

“Dad! You’re home!”

Eddie envelops Chris in a one-armed hug that nearly fills up the hole that’s been in his heart since he woke up two days ago.

“God I missed you, kid,” Eddie breathes out against his son’s curls. Chris hugs his neck tighter.

“I missed you too, Dad,” Chris tells him like it’s a secret. “But I knew you were going to be okay. And now you are!”

Eddie falters before slowly pulling back. He’s very conscious of the other people in the room—of Ana and Buck watching them with too much familiarity, and of Abuela and Pepa flittering at the edges of his vision. Still, Eddie can’t avoid telling Chris forever.

“Ah, Chris I’m—I am okay, but you need to know I’m still…Hurt.”

Chris’ hand flutters around his shoulder. “I know that, Dad,” he says with so much exasperation it makes a laugh bubble up past the anxiety in Eddie’s chest.

“No, mijo, not just that. I—my head, it—“

“Is this because you can’t remember?”

Eddie blinks.

“Because Buck told me the doctor said you have anne—anniemn—“

“Amnesia,” Eddie corrects absently, his eyes drifting to Buck where he’s resolutely staring at his own socked feet.

“Amnesia,” Chris repeats back with a decisive nod, “and that you forgot some stuff since we moved to LA—like all the cool stuff at work, and Carla, and even us being best friends with Buck!” Chris says the last part like it’s the most unbelievable thing out of it all.

That anxiety feels dangerously close to hysteria at this point.

“He said that, did he?”

“Yup,” Chris nods, popping the p.

“And you’re not…Upset?” Eddie drags his eyes back to his son, who rolls his eyes in a way Eddie definitely doesn’t remember teaching him. Suddenly he realizes Chris is taller than he remembers too—his face is less round, and there’s a distinctly teenage quality to the look in his eyes at being treated so carefully.

Eddie swallows down the the realization his kid is now only a couple years away from being a teen, and his eight year old his no longer waiting for him at his elementary school during that earthquake.

“Well, I was,” Chris admits, quieter this time. “But Buck also said you remember me and that even though sometimes the brain forgets some things, that doesn’t mean they’re not important.” Chris raises one hand and carefully pats one of Eddie’s temples. “And that you could get them back if we give you time and love which is easy.” He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, actually, and Eddie is left speechless.

He doesn’t know if he wants to scream at Buck or kiss him.

There’s an uncomfortable knot in his chest at the thought of someone else explaining something so delicate to his son, but looking at Chris—handling this so much better than Eddie had imagined in any of the scenarios he went through in the hospital, all he can do is be grateful Chris doesn’t feel abandoned by his father yet again.

The rest of his welcome home goes by a lot smoother, thankfully.

Abuela and Pepa get back to the residency they’ve claimed over Eddie’s kitchen—cooking enough freezer meals to last them through the next Armageddon—only allowing entry to Buck, who gets called in as back up every so often. Eddie hadn’t pictured the guy as a cook—he was cocky from the moment they met and despite the “good heart” the rest of the team had assured Eddie existed somewhere beneath all that bravado showing up eventually, he still gave off frat boy vibes.

Well—at least, he used to. Eddie has trouble recognizing the young Buck he knows with this older, softer Buck that can’t seem to stop doing things around Eddie’s house long enough to actually talk to him.

If he’s not in the kitchen, he’s doing something to entertain Chris or straighten up something Eddie doesn’t even realize is out of place. To be fair, most of the things in the house look out of place to him though—most of it is new to him, even if it still all looks like something he’d have wanted to get for it eventually. It’s a lot cozier than how he remembers it; most of his funds were stretched thin right after they moved trying to get Chris set up with school supplies and then getting all new out-fittings for the bathroom and Chris’ room, since his parents refused to give up the ones they had.

It’s nice, though. There’s a lot more heart in their home than Eddie could have ever imagined existing, and he finds himself mostly wandering throughout the house and cataloguing all the changes.

Ana stays by his side, quietly telling him some general things that had happened in the last three years, which he’s trying to not feel suffocated by. As much as he appreciates her dedication, there’s still a distinct discomfort at having someone he just…Doesn’t know constantly watching him. At least he knows Buck, even if doesn’t know this Buck—but Ana is a complete stranger to him. He doesn’t know how to handle her without hurting her feelings, but also doesn’t want to ruin a relationship he doesn’t even remember starting.

“—and then there was the pandemic, but don’t worry—things have been pretty under control for the last year, and you and Chris are both vaccinated. I don’t want you to be completely lost if a variant or something comes up, though, so don’t be surprised—“

Eddie blows out a breath, thinking maybe he’s more traumatized than he realized if the word pandemic doesn’t even phase him at the moment. He puts the picture frame he was studying back down on the bookcase.

“I’m sorry, is this all too much?” Ana asks, quirking an embarrassed smile at him. She nervously straightens the frame he put back, and Eddie tries to not be annoyed at that.

He forces a smile back and tries to reply as honestly as he can. “Just a little. There’s just…A lot, that I missed in just…My life. It’s hard to think about anything else.”

Ana swallows, immediately looking regretful. “You’re right, I just—I guess I don’t know how else to help.”

“I appreciate what you’ve done already. I know this isn’t…Easy.”

A small, timid smile breaks across her smile. Eddie tries to not flinch when she reaches out and squeezes his arm.

“I’m happy to be here. I want to…To be here for you, to do whatever you need to remember. I care about you, Edmundo, and that won’t change even if you can’t remember me.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say that feels as heartfelt as that, so he just gives her a strained smile in return.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that…I thought I could maybe—stay. Tonight. To help you out with Christopher, and so we could maybe talk and see if anything jogs your memory.”

At that, Eddie does flinch.

“I…Appreciate that. But I think it’s best that I just have some…Time. For me and Chris, I’m just—I’m tired, and I just need—“ It’s not a lie; his shoulder started aching an hour ago, and his head is beginning to pound out a rhythm that pulses against the light of the living room. “Plus, my Tía said she would stay tonight, so—“ Which is a lie, but he doesn’t feel bad about it.

“Of course,” Ana cuts in. “No need to explain. I could stop by tomorrow?”

“Maybe…Next week? I just need…Time.”

“Yeah, of course…Of course.” There’s disappointment in her eyes but the sad smile she gives him says she wasn’t expecting any different.

Ana doesn’t stay long after that.

Buck doesn’t either, but strangely enough he lingers even more than she did.

“Alright, so, Carla will be here in the morning to get Chris for school—she’ll get here at 6:30. You uh, enrolled him in a new private school a few months after that earthquake,” Buck tells Eddie in between putting on his shoes. “I threw his uniform in the wash for you earlier.”

Eddie is left blinking at Buck. He briefly wonders about how in the world he affords a private school on top of an in home caregiver because unless he also got a massive raise in the years he’s forgotten, he’s going to have to sit down with his bank statements sooner than he thought. Even with the impending doom finances always leaves him with, though, he can’t help but stare at Buck with a little wonder at how ingrained he seems to be in their lives. He’s had some good friends throughout his life, but none that ever came close to knowing the laundering schedule of his kid’s school clothes.

It’s all on the verge of too much; he’s grateful he has someone to tell him these little things he definitely needs to know, but it also just reminds him how much he’s forgotten.

“Does she usually pick him up?”

Buck pauses before lacing his boot quickly. “Honestly, she was technically off tomorrow and has another client but she knows how hard this is going to be for you and wanted to uh…Meet you. Again.” He stands up and barely meets Eddie’s eyes. “But I was already scheduled off for tomorrow since we didn’t know…”

Eddie realizes it’s because they didn’t know if he was going to wake up. The strangeness of not knowing just how enmeshed Buck is in their lives starts itching under his skin again.

Buck clears his throat. “So I had planned on picking him up, but…”

Eddie knows the hesitation, logically, doesn’t make sense. Eddie can’t drive yet, and technically, he at least knows Buck. He might not remember why he trusts the man so much, but he is a familiar face not only to himself but obviously to Chris, and he should probably trust him to pick up his son over this mysterious Carla.

His headache pulses a little harder against his skull.

“Could you—“ Eddie sighs, resisting the urge to rub at his shoulder; it won’t help, and it’ll just show how uncomfortable he is asking this. “Can I come with you? It’s probably stupid, but—” He hates having to ask to do something regarding his own son, and he doesn’t know how to say that without insulting him.

“Hey, it’s not stupid.” Buck’s reassurance comes quick. Eddie blinks at him in surprise; there’s more confidence in his eyes than there’s been since Eddie woke up, and he doesn’t know what to make about that. It dulls to something more tame. “Actually, I didn’t want to overstep, but…” Buck sighs and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I know you have an appointment with Frank tomorrow, and I’d like—I mean, if you want—I can drive you.”

The fact that he even knows Eddie not only has an appointment with a therapist but knows the man’s name twists something up in Eddie’s chest.

“Okay…okay. Uh, yeah—thank you,” Eddie says, feeling a little lost. He clears his throat, the words rough on their way out. “Really. Thank you, Buck.”

For the first time since Eddie’s seen him again, Buck smiles. It’s soft but steady, and more reassuring than anything Eddie’s been told in the last couple of days.

“Hey, what are friends for, right?”

Eddie doesn’t have much experience with friends—good friends—but he thinks everything Buck has been doing for him in the background might exceed most expectations. What does he know though—maybe this really is just how their friendship is.

Eddie thinks, briefly, he’d really like to remember that.

~—~

The next morning, Eddie is quickly convinced Carla is a woman forged by the heavens above and sent as a gift he’s certain he’ll never be able to karmically repay.

Eddie doesn’t usually warm up to others very fast; it’s not that he doesn’t like people, per se, but he just doesn’t trust people until they’ve proven they’re worth the effort of trusting. Carla, however, has a soothing command of the world around her that makes Eddie instantly understand why his grandmother was so insistent about her before. Not only is Chris completely at ease with her as soon as she shows up, but she also calms Eddie’s nerves about the finances he has strewn across the dining room table he’d been staring at since he woke up a little after 4 unable to go back to sleep.

“Oh and this one you definitely don’t need to worry about, honey,“ Carla tsks and taps the largest bill Eddie had dug out of the mail left stuffed into a box by the front door before disappearing into the kitchen. It was overflowing and Eddie thought it would be an easy task to organize it in the wee hours of the morning, but instead he’s just given himself a migraine before 7am. He rubs thoroughly at his eyes, one then the other, before weighing the dignity he’d lose if he just collapsed on the dining room table right then.

“That’s just the monthly invoice from my employer, more of a formality for your records. The state covers my services through a program—I can tell you more about it if you’d like, but you look like you’re about to keel over any minute.” Carla re-emerges with a cup of coffee in one hand and an encouraging smile on her lips.

“Have I told you before that you’re a blessing?”

Carla barks out a laugh before setting the mug in front of him and deliberately gathering all the papers on the table together. She shuffles them into something resembling a stack and sets it as far away from Eddie on the table as possible.

“Trust me, baby, I’m just as blessed to have the Diaz boys in my life. Especially when I have them home in one piece,” Carla tells him with a smile that makes Eddie wonder just how in the world he ever found her in the endless void that is LA’s disability services. Before he was shot, he remembers how much the stress of finding a solution for Chris’ care while he was at work had been slowly winding around his subconscious every waking moment. He constantly felt on the edge of drowning, and yet he woke up to not only a lifejacket but a whole ass rescue boat in front of him.

It almost feels like cheating at a game he didn’t know he was playing; which is absurd, since it’s not like he used cheat codes to pass by the hard parts of his life. He did actually go through them, he just…Can’t remember them.

Eddie can hear Chris’ crutches clacking in the hallway between the bathroom and his bedroom, so he estimates they only have a few more minutes until his son is ready to leave.

“Before you leave,” Eddie says, blowing on the dark coffee still steaming in his mug. It’s black and sugarless, but he hides the grimace when he takes a sip. “I just have to ask—how did I ever end up finding you? I feel like I went through hundreds of carer profiles when I first arrived and I gave up a week in, too overwhelmed at figuring out how to navigate all the different companies and what grants they used.”

Carla’s face melts into something softer than he knows how to process on a virtual stranger. “That was all thanks to our boy Buck.”

Eddie blinks at her. “You knew Buck?”

“Oh yes, I knew Buck way before you. Or ‘Buck 1.0’, I think that’s what he’s calling it nowadays.” Carla laughs, but it’s fond and amused. “Abby, his girlfriend, hired me for her mother. After Abby left, well, we didn’t keep in touch too much but Buck does grow on you in a way that’s hard to ever completely shake.”

“And he what—referred you?” Eddie tries to picture himself asking Buck of all people for a recommendation for Chris’ care; he struggles to come up with a plausible image even with this more mature Buck he now apparently knows.

“More like he set us up,” Carla laughs again. “Long story short, our little Buckaroo knew you were struggling with childcare, and he reached out to me to help with finding some grants. I think he knew we’d click from the beginning, even if he swears that was just a happy coincidence.”

“Oh,” is all Eddie replies. He feels a little raw but doesn’t know which part of it all rubbed him that way. “That’s…A lot. You know, to do for someone he barely knows.”

That soft look is back, and this time it’s enough to start burning across Eddie’s skin. He has to look away from it. “To be honest,” Carla sighs, “I have my doubts there’s anything in the world that boy wouldn’t do for the two of you.”

And Eddie…Well, he doesn’t know what to make of that. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to figure out because Chris is careening into the dining room a moment later. “I’m not late!” He informs them with a giggle.

Carla checks her watch before laughing herself. “I don’t think declaring it makes it true this time, sweetheart. C’mon now, let’s let your dad get a head start on resting up, right?” She gives him an admonishing look and Eddie holds his good hand head startup in surrender.

“Not going anywhere, promise,” Eddie tells her solemnly.

“We all know that doesn’t mean you’ll rest.”

“Yeah, Dad, we all know.”

Eddie laughs, and for the first time he doesn’t feel like an outsider to his own life. “Okay, okay. I get it—butt down, feet up and all that.”

“Atta boy,” Carla coos, patting him on the cheek as she follows Chris to the door. “And you’ll call me if you need anything.” She doesn’t leave it as a question.

“Sure,” Eddie concedes.

It’s not a lie if he doesn’t plan on needing anyone, anyway.

~—~

To be fair, Eddie does try to rest after they leave.

For about half an hour.

(Seventeen minutes to be exact, but Eddie doesn’t think semantics are important if he’s the only one counting.)

He tries to sit down with a book that had been left on the console table behind the couch, resolutely ignoring the rest of the mail on the dining room table. He had been wanting to read more for a while now, but it’s a luxury of time he never seemed to be able to justify especially with the stress of moving. But Chris loves to read—at least, Eddie is pretty sure he still loves to read—and he wanted to set a good example for him. When he saw all the books pressed tightly against each other on the bookcase in the living room yesterday, he was grateful he must have at least figured out a way to do one thing right by his son.

He’s fairly certain the book isn’t one of Chris’—although his son has always been more mature for his age, Eddie still doesn’t think his eleven year old was reading a non-fiction cold case about a library fire. The book is dog-eared several times, like it’s one Eddie must have been trying to fit in between a busy schedule. He rationalizes he must have been pretty determined to read it but when he tries to start it, he has to reread the second page about five times before giving up.

Maybe his taste in books has drastically changed in three years, or maybe Chris has some really…Interesting tastes for a preteen.

Either way, he thinks he gives “resting” a fair shot before he tosses the book onto the coffee table and decides to snoop through his own stuff again. It’s probably not technically snooping since it is still his stuff, but he can’t help but feel like he’s intruding on a stranger’s life as he explores the house. That’s probably something the hospital appointed therapist is going to have a field day unpacking, and the thought alone makes Eddie grimace.

He starts in the kitchen, because it feels like the safest option emotionally.

There’s few differences he can note at first; despite the verifiable cooking storm that happened in here yesterday, the counters are completely cleared and the only thing out of place is where the coffee pot sits by the sink where Carla must have left it. He meticulously begins looking through the cabinets, though, and is surprised to find multiple appliances and high-end cookware Eddie thinks would take a miracle for him to know how to use. He briefly wonders if Chris’ complaints about Eddie’s lack of culinary prowess bullied him into taking a cooking class or fifty.

The fridge is another mystery. It’s fully stocked with leftovers, sure—and when Eddie checks the freezer, he isn’t surprised to see more gallon-bags with careful instructions written on them filling it up—but beyond that, it’s just so…Organized. The type of organized that used to make Eddie feel overwhelmed when he would search for parenting tips during the late nights he was convinced he was going to ruin Chris forever with his ineptitude and the top results were Pinterest boards by stay at home moms with “simple” homemaking hacks that cost more time and money than Eddie ever had to spare.

Staring at the clearly labeled snack and produce bins in between drink dispensers for carbonated water, though, it looks like the fridge has never seen a messy day—and seriously, when did Eddie become the type of person to have carbonated water over a single can of soda in his fridge?

He looks at the calendar nearly hidden beneath everything else and makes mental note to figure out some of the circled dates with cryptic shorthand beneath them before he starts sifting through the papers stuck to the fridge doors with mismatched sets of magnets. Most of it is predictable; some coupons, a Father’s Day card, a half-written grocery list, but mainly pictures signed by Chris in various Crayola shades. There’s artwork of different animals—and Eddie makes a mental note Chris must really be into those now and to check if he’s still into space at all—and a couple of depictions of the 118 in the middle of a heroic save which make Eddie smile.

That smile drops quickly when he finds the first “family” portrait.

It depicts a sunny day with a clearly labeled “Dad” watching over Chris on a skateboard—but on the other side, there’s a smiling figure labelled “Buck.” Eddie stares at it for longer than he’d like to admit before flipping through the rest of the drawings only to find every one that includes Eddie has Buck right there with him.

Eddie moves onto the living room, and tells himself he’s not running away from a refrigerator.

He takes a closer look at everything he passed over yesterday. His eyes had barely scanned over the room with Ana following him so closely; he felt watched, even if her attention was mostly on figuring out different current events to catch him up on. Still, his skin had felt frayed with her next to him while he tried to imagine the thought behind each knick knack or photo. He didn’t realize how much he hadn’t actually taken in until he gets close to the mantle and examines each framed picture.

There’s one of him, Chris, and Shannon at the beach—Chris looks closer to what he remembers, so it must have been shortly after they moved to LA—that makes Eddie’s heart ache with the amount of questions it raises. He traces the smiles on all three of their faces with his good hand. How did he get to a point where they could look so happy together, and yet she wasn’t here with them? Were they actually able to overcome everything they put each other through to co-parent peacefully? Did she even live nearby or does she only visit occasionally—is that why they look so happy to see each other? Did they finally learn their love was best at a distance?

He’s tempted to call her.

His phone has been left plugged in on his nightstand since he got home yesterday—he hadn’t even thought about it in the hospital, but learned it had been given to Buck by the hospital, along with the rest of his possessions on the day of the shooting. He had briefly considered going through it last night, but he made it a couple of days’ worth of communications through a group text with the rest of the 118 before giving up. The amount of inside jokes he just didn’t get became overwhelming, so he decided to leave it until he either (hopefully) remembers his life, or at least gets to know his coworkers enough again that it doesn’t feel intrusive to read their conversations.

Still, seeing the photo of all three of them makes a part of him wonder if they have the relationship now that Shannon would want to know if her (ex?) husband is apparently suffering from traumatic memory loss. A stronger, more raw part of him remembers the desperation he felt when he decided to move to LA and start over with their son, and thinks it’s probably for the best if he doesn’t revisit his past too much while trying to remember his future.

The other photos are even harder to conceive.

All of them—not that there’s many, but Eddie has clearly forgone any decor in favor of making room for as many photos as possible on the mantle—include Buck. Most are selfies of Eddie, Chris, and Buck on various outings. One is from what looks like Abuela’s birthday party, and she’s giving Chris a kiss on the head while Buck and Eddie sandwich her with cheek kisses. There’s one where they’re at the station and Eddie is in his dress uniform, so he assumes it’s when he made it off probation. Chris is wearing Eddie’s helmet, and Buck is—curiously—on crutches. Chimney and a pretty brunette woman are beside Eddie, and they’re all laughing at something it looks like Chris said to them right before the camera went off.

Eddie holds his breath at as he imagines living through each photo, until it all comes out in a rush at the last one at the edge of the mantle. Nestled beside an innocent one of Buck and Chris reading inside what is probably a blanket fort, is a small 4x6 frame featuring just Eddie and Buck.

The photo was taken outside; it looks like a typically bright day in LA, and the sun throws a glare from behind them. Neither of them are looking at the camera, both of their gazes focused somewhere out of frame. There’s nothing too special about the picture itself; honestly, what’s more telling than the photo itself is the fact Eddie had apparently thought it belonged on display. He picks it up, and he thinks he understands why—he looks…Happy. He isn’t wearing one of the big smiles that hurt his cheeks just looking at, but instead there’s a simple air of contentment about the photo that makes his chest feel hollow. The way they’re pressed so casually close, Eddie smiling something softer than he’s felt in years and Buck laughing with joy reflected in his squinted eyes and one arm thrown around Eddie’s shoulders—it’s the type of friendship Eddie never understood.

He looks like he’s at home. He doesn’t know how to look at himself.

There isn’t a single photo of Eddie’s parents out on display. There’s not even a picture of Eddie’s girlfriend—but there’s at least five featuring none other than Evan Buckley. Eddie puts the frame back on the mantle. He takes a deep breath that rattles on the way in, and forces it to steady on the way out.

Eddie is exhausted.

He stares at the fireplace without really seeing it anymore. There’s a dull ache in his shoulder that he knows he should take a pain pill for, but his feet feel like concrete blocks against the rug. It takes all the effort he can manage to slump down and plop on the coffee table, which doesn’t seem to appreciate his weight. Trying to make sense of his life has left his brain feeling like stretched out taffy; every thought is distorted and too thin.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there. Long enough for the dull ache to pulse into something a lot angrier, that’s for sure. He’s certain he should get up soon and start getting ready to exist in public—not that he can shower yet himself, but he doesn’t have even a quarter of the mental energy to get that dilemma figured out so he’s shoved it to the lowest priority until he can start smelling himself. But he can probably at least manage to do a quick rinse with a washcloth at the sink, if he can maneuver his shirt off the right way.

Even thinking about it makes his limbs feel heavier.

But he doesn’t have the luxury to exist in his exhaustion. It doesn’t matter what he’s going through—his kid, his house, his life can’t stop functioning just because Eddie hasn’t figured out how to function himself yet. If he stops moving for too long he’s fairly certain the entire weight of the world would crush him in its gravity, so he’d really rather not chance it and pushes himself to his feet.

As he musters the motivation to actually make it to the bathroom, though, he freezes at the sound of the door unlocking. It registers that he has no idea who could be walking through the door at the same time that the bulk of Buck’s shoulders fills the doorway. His head is down as he toes off his boots while trying to balance a brown bag and two to-go coffees.

“You have a key?” Eddie blurts out instead of a greeting, because it seems like a nicer thing to ask then why the hell Buck is letting himself into his house.

Buck’s head whips up, eyes wide. He trips over his own boot and nearly spills the coffee. Eddie takes an automatic step forward, but Buck steadies himself and his goods.

“Uh, hi,” Buck says sheepishly. “Sorry.” He clears his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “I do—have a key, that is. I guess it’s just…Habit. I didn’t think about it, but I shouldn’t have—“

Eddie doesn’t know how to process any of that information, so instead he interrupts Buck’s increasingly frantic explanation with, “Is that coffee for me?”

Buck blinks at him. “Yeah. It’s from McCallie’s, it’s—well, it was your favorite.”

Eddie sort of remembers seeing the place when he had searched the area when they first moved in. He had been wanting to try out the coffee shop for a while since it’d be convenient on his way to work, but he just hadn’t found the time yet.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, instead of unpacking any of that. He watches Buck watch him back for a moment before clearing his throat. He nods toward the kitchen. “You want to sit?”

Buck jumps into step, following Eddie’s lead to sit across from each other. He unpacks the bag and sets a comically large muffin down beside the coffee in front of Eddie. The house somehow feels emptier with Buck in it now too; it’s filled with a yawning quiet and too bright morning light, and it feels like Eddie is missing more than just the memories of how this is probably normal for them now.

“Sorry, again,” Buck repeats. He’s taken the lid off his own coffee and blows on it a couple of times, not looking Eddie in the eye. “I was on autopilot, I guess, but I should have stopped to think how weird this would be for you.”

Eddie doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. Probably both. “Weird is an understatement,” he says on a rush. He almost instantly regrets how honest that is and tries to swallow the discomfort with some of the coffee; he nearly spits it out when it tastes perfect. Slightly creamy with a hint of sugar, and Eddie thinks crying might win out.

Buck finally looks up at that. He doesn’t look hurt like Eddie would expect; he quirks a smile at him and he wraps his fingers around the disposable coffee cup on top of the table. “I gotta admit, I’m a loss here too if it makes you feel any better.”

“What do you mean?”

Buck sighs, squinting his eyes past Eddie and watches the light filter in through the sheer curtains across the room. “Dr. Pierce said you woke up thinking it was after that earthquake way back when, right?”

Eddie doesn’t know where he’s going with this. Still, he nods. “I remember us going into that high-rise, but—“ His throat feels tight around the admission, but Buck doesn’t seem to need more confirmation.

“Right.” Buck focuses back on him with a sad sort of humor in his eyes. “I can’t even remember what we were like back then, if I’m honest. Things have…Changed, so much since then, and I never really had to stop and think about it. I don’t even know how to act to make things less weird for you, because I don’t remember what you must think of me where you’re at right now.”

“You don’t have to—“ Eddie shakes his head, tries to find words for feelings that he’s not used to expressing to others. “I don’t want you to act any different than you usually would.” He’s not sure if that’s entirely true actually, but the thought of getting used to Buck again but having it be some sort of mirage of whatever Buck thinks he needs to be is more confusing than figuring out whatever the hell kind of friendship the two of them have seemed to cultivate over the years. “I don’t want to get to know whoever you aren’t.”

Buck’s head tilts, considering him through the entire tangle of emotion Eddie tries to unravel. “You want to get to know me?”

Warmth tickles at the back of Eddie’s neck. “Well, yeah. You’re like…You’re my best friend, right?”

Buck’s smile is soft around the corners, but it’s nothing compared to his eyes. Eddie focuses on his coffee and tries to ignore how much he likes it was made perfect for him. “Yeah,” Buck rasps, his fingers tearing tiny lines into the cardboard sleeve around his cup. “You’re mine too, you know.”

Eddie laughs, and it feels a little like it was punched out of him. “I’m beginning to understand that, yeah.”

“Good.” Buck clears his throat, and Eddie chances a look at him. That softness has tempered the rest of his edges too. “Now, who’s ready for some therapy?”

Eddie groans, and the tension is gone. “That better be a rhetorical question.”

“Oh it definitely is.” Buck grins at him. “But Frank remembers how much you loved seeing him last time, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

“I’ve seen him before?”

Buck pauses from where he’s stood up and started clearing trash off the table. “Your doctor didn’t tell you?” Eddie shakes his head and picks at his muffin. “Ah, yeah. A couple years ago now.”

“Doesn’t seem like something I’d do,” Eddie muses around a bite. It’s weird to consider himself doing something so out of character, but no weirder than the rest of this whole experience.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it was voluntary.” Buck laughs awkwardly, like there’s a story behind it. Eddie makes a mental note to ask about it. “But you mentioned to me before that you told him a lot more than you thought you would, so when the doctor asked if there was anyone you’d prefer seeing, I figured he’d be a good fit.” Buck crumples the bag in both hands, holding the ball in front of his chest. “I hope that was okay.”

“No, yeah,” Eddie agrees quickly. “Makes sense. Uh, thank you.”

Buck laughs and starts moving again. “You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know.” He disappears into the kitchen and Eddie works on disappearing the rest of his muffin.

When Buck appears again, Eddie chugs the last few sips of his coffee. “I need a few minutes before we leave, I still gotta—“ He gestures down to his sweatpants.

“Yeah, of course. Do you, uh…Need any help?” He winces like the question came out more painful than he meant it.

Truthfully, Eddie probably does need help. Still, that’s one line he doesn’t think he’s ready to cross with his coworker. “I think I got it,” Eddie assures. Buck nods quickly and grabs Eddie’s trash.

“Well, just—give me a shout if you need me, I guess. I’ll be out here.” He throws a thumb toward the living room.

Getting rinsed off goes about as well as Eddie’s worst prediction for it. He can’t unfasten his sling one handed and it gets stuck over his head when he tries to pull it off, which sets off a new ache in his shoulder. He gets water all over the bathmat even though he tries to wring out the washcloth each time he wets it, and he’s pretty sure he still has soap in some places by the time he gives up. Jeans are decidedly an enemy, so he just pulls on a clear pair of joggers. When he looks at his t-shirt, he has instant flashbacks to wrangling his sleep shirt up and over his head and sighs.

His shirt and sling fisted in his good hand, Eddie pads back into the living after an embarrassingly long amount of time. Buck is sitting on the couch with the tv off and when Eddie crosses over to him, he sees the book he gave up on earlier open in his hands. He has it open to a little over halfway through.

“Oh! Hey, sorry, wasn’t paying attention,” Buck says, startled a little. He folds the corner of his page down and sets the book on the coffee table. Eddie doesn’t know what to make of that.

“You’re fine,” he says, clenching his clothes a little tighter. Buck seems to register his lack of shirt belatedly.

“Do you need…?” Buck tilts his head to Eddie’s fist; he doesn’t know how to ask, but he doesn’t need to before Buck is standing up and gesturing for them to switch spots.

Eddie sits down stiffly. Buck kneels between his knees like the proximity doesn’t bother him at all. Eddie resolutely focuses over Buck’s shoulder as he starts to manipulate his shoulder carefully to get the shirt on; Buck’s gentle touch makes him curious, though, and when he chances a peek down at his face, Eddie has to hold his breath at the concentration pinching Buck’s expression together so seriously.

Eddie lets that breath out on a hiss when his arm is pulled a little too far, and Buck immediately apologizes. Pain is clear in his own eyes as his hands move slower, his fingers barely a brush over Eddie’s skin; there’s a reverence in the way he touches him, and Eddie can’t breathe properly until his shirt is on and the sling has been fastened and Buck has pulled out of his orbit.

“There we go,” Buck says with a half smile. He sits back on his haunches until he’s pressed against the coffee table, and even then there’s so little room between them that it’s all Eddie can think about and yet it doesn’t seem to phase Buck whatsoever.

“Thank you,” Eddie murmurs, a little dazed.

“What did I say about that?” Buck’s lips quirk up a little higher, his eyes bright.

Eddie smiles back a little then. “What’s wrong with a little appreciation?”

“Nothing wrong with it,” Buck says, using the coffee table to push himself up. “But it’s not necessary. Not with me.”

“Why?”

The question seems to throw him off as much as it throws Eddie; he’s not sure exactly why he asks it, or even what exactly he’s asking. There’s a lot of questions that keep bumping around his chest regarding Evan Buckley, but the one that keeps tripping over his ribs is just—why? Why Eddie? Why he everywhere Eddie looks? Why does he give so much to him and Chris?

Why does he look at Eddie like that?

Looking down, a complicated sort of sorrow stretches deep into Buck’s eyes. “I…” One of his hands twitch toward Eddie before he folds his arms across his chest. Resolution settles into his expression. “I’d do anything for you, Eds. You and Chris—all you have to do is ask, and it’s yours.”

It’s so close to what Carla said, yet it hits harder coming from Buck himself. It’s like a truck straight to his solar plexus the way all the air is sucked from his body at once.

It doesn’t even answer his question—not really, not when why why why keeps tripping through his veins with the same thrashing beat of his heart.

“Anyway, we should get going—” Buck swallows, stepping to the side with averted eyes. “Don’t wanna be late.”

Therapy.

Right.

Yes.

Buck, who touches him with a devotion as palpable as all the little pieces of himself scattered throughout Eddie's home.

#buddie #buddie fic #911ficexchange #911 fic exchange #my fic #sorry I uh #could not control myself lol #I know the min was 1k #and this is like a 30k monster #but I didn't think amnesia could #fit very well close to 1k #so I hope you don't mind #this is being posted in 3 parts lol

25 notes · View notes

homoose · 3 years

Text

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part IV

Summary: The Halloween parade. Will and JJ are adorable. Anita suggests that Spencer become a classroom volunteer. Reader has a rough week.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, a smidge of angst

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 4.4k

a/n: I wish we’d seen more of Will and JJ as parents because I imagine it would be adorable and hilarious. Let’s see if you can guess all of their costumes before the reveal lmao. Your only clue is that Spencer loves keeping with a theme and the brown vest (I literally learned how to make my own shitty gif bc I couldn’t find the right one in the search and I do not understand embedding lmao) makes an appearance.

Series Masterlist

———

“Did you grab the bags?” JJ swept the pleated, platinum braid out of her face as she bent over to zip up her boots.

“No, I thought you did,” Will called, bouncing down the stairs.

“I put them in the car already,” Spencer informed them, popping his head back in the front door. “There was just the one box, right?”

“Yeah, that was it,” Will confirmed. “Shit— where’s Michael’s sword?”

“Should be on the counter,” JJ huffed, standing up and adjusting the bodice of the blue dress.

“Got it.” Will came around the corner of the kitchen, patting his hips where his pockets would be— if he weren’t wearing an adult-sized onesie. “Keys?” Spencer held them up. “All right then, let’s get this show on the road.”

The trio headed to the waiting SUV, Spencer climbing into the backseat as Will and JJ got into the front. Will and JJ chattered on about dinner plans and schedules for the following week, and Spencer smoothed down the brown wool vest layered over his white linen shirt. He’d spent entirely too long putting together the costume over the last week (with a little help from Penelope). He’d scrapped the Spock getup he’d been working on since September— he could always wear that next year. But he’d only get one chance to attend the Room 105 Halloween parade, and once the idea had wormed its way into his brain, he had to make it happen.

“Spence?” JJ’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Would you be able to pick Michael up on Monday?”

He ran his hands down his thighs over the mint green cropped trousers. “Sure, as long as we don’t have a case.”

Will smirked at him in the rear view mirror. “How’s Ms. Y/L/N?”

“You’re about to see her yourself, so you can ask,” Spencer replied.

Will laughed, and JJ turned in her seat. “Whoa, coming in hot with the snark. You really do like her.”

Spencer fought and failed to keep the blush from rising, irritation at being teased blooming sharp inside his chest. He tried to shrug as nonchalantly as possible. “She’s a great teacher.”

“That’s not a no,” JJ noted, eyebrows raised.

“She’s Michael’s teacher,” Spencer said, like it meant something.

“Yeah, so?” Will shrugged his shoulders. “You’re his godfather. Technically, you’re not related, so it wouldn’t be breakin’ any rules.”

“Well, it’s not like that, so it doesn’t really matter,” Spencer insisted.

Will hummed and JJ turned back around in her seat. Spencer drummed his fingers on his knees and watched DC roll past through the SUV window. It really wasn’t like that. Y/N was just… very nice. A nice, beautiful, sweet, silly kindergarten teacher that he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how many books he read or coffees he drank or chess games he played.

Monday was the last day of his sabbatical, and he was even more relieved to be headed back than usual— grateful that he’d have something to occupy his mind other than her. Because his mind was, indeed, occupied. The way her smile beamed like the spotlight on a stage, illuminating whoever happened to be on the receiving end. The way her hands moved in unbound, buoyant illustrations of her thoughts. The way her laugh felt like the first warm sip of tea or the wrap of his favorite scarf. It was getting out of hand, to say the least.

Will pulled into the parking lot, and instantly Spencer’s palms began to sweat. He glanced at the headband on the seat beside him and felt the mortification clawing at his insides. The costume was ridiculous; he was ridiculous. He should have just worn the Spock outfit.

Maybe he could just wait in the car and pretend like he hadn’t been able to make it. Or he could just leave the headband in the car. But then he’d just be in mint green capris with a sweater vest and platform sandals, and she’d have absolutely no idea who he was supposed to be. Then he’d have to explain it, and it would be even worse.

Will parked the car, and he and JJ immediately stepped out. Spencer watched them near the hood of the SUV, enjoying a rare moment of co-parenting without work hovering right out of frame. Will pulled the hood of the onesie up and JJ laughed, brushing her hand over the brown fabric twigs sticking out of the top. He supposed that if Will Lamontagne, Jr. could strut his stuff in adult footie pajamas, his handmade costume was probably all right.

With one last resigned sigh, Spencer slid the headband on. He grabbed the box of Halloween treats, opened the door, and hauled himself out of the vehicle. He pushed the door closed and looked in the reflection of the window, adjusting the headband around his curls and blowing out a breath.

“Ready?” JJ called, peering around the side of the SUV.

“Yeah—yeah,” Spencer agreed. He moved around the vehicle to join them, the three of them walking to find a spot in the crowd of parents standing around the carpool loop.

When they found a suitable spot, Will looked up at him and shook his head. The sandals added three extra inches to Spencer’s height, putting him a good six inches taller than Will. “Those shoes make you look like an actual giant,” Will chuckled. “I know that’s the point, but I feel like even more of a shrimp next to ya now.”

Spencer set the box of candy bags on the ground and would have shoved his hands into his pockets if the linen trousers had any. Before he could respond, JJ pointed to the door of the school, cooing, “Oh my god, look. Remember when the boys were that small?”

The PreK classes came out first, and Spencer could acknowledge that they were very cute, barely out of the toddler stage and holding hands with a line buddy. But he was waiting on a very specific cutie.

He’d barely had the thought when the kindergarten classes started to emerge from the door. He almost didn’t recognize her at first— just an orange blob and green shrubbery. But the converse gave her away.

“How is she so cute?” JJ threaded her arm through Will’s. “Even when she’s dressed as a giant orange blob.”

“It’s a gift,” Will agreed. He glanced up at Spencer. “Right, doc?”

Spencer nodded but didn’t take his eyes off Y/N. “I think so, yeah.” Will grinned and bumped JJ’s shoulder, but Spencer barely even registered his own response.

Thankfully they’d picked a spot near the very end of the loop, so he had plenty of time to get himself together before she was in front of him. While Will and JJ waved at all the tiny superheroes and princesses, he watched Y/N. She was all orange fabric from her shoulders to her knees, with bright orange Chucks to match. On her head was a strange variation on a party hat, bright green ferns sprouting from the tip of the cone and falling into her face. She looked absolutely ridiculous and entirely adorable, and he was in so much trouble.

When the class finally approached the final curve of the loop, Will nudged Spencer and gestured to the box of goodie bags. Spencer crouched down and lifted the box, standing back up to see Y/N laughing at Will and JJ. “Very cute, Lamontagne Family.”

Her gaze traveled across, then up, and then her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Spencer wondered if maybe the earth could just open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh my god, are you—?” She stepped forward and ran her hand lightly over the vest, and he didn’t dare breathe. “Are you the BFG?!” Her hand dropped from his torso, and he didn’t have time to be disappointed before her face split into quite possibly the biggest smile he’d seen from her yet.

A tiny Superman shouted, “Ms. Y/L/N, we’re making a gap!”

Y/N came back to herself, gesturing to all three of them. “Don’t go anywhere.” She accepted the offered box of treats from Spencer and then turned to help her class catch up.

Will gave him a look. “It’s not like that, huh?”

“Oh my god, she likes you.” JJ clapped her hands together. “This is amazing.”

“I’m takin’ credit for this,” Will bragged. “I’m a regular ol’ matchmaker.”

Spencer couldn’t even be bothered to attempt a denial. He was still thinking about the feel of her palm on his chest, how it might feel to hold her hand, the way her eyes practically sparkled when she saw his ridiculous headband. He was in so much trouble.

Fifteen minutes later, the classes filed back out into the parking lot for dismissal. Y/N led the class down the sidewalk, grinning at the excitement coursing through her line. As they approached the end of the loop, Y/N caught sight of them and waved. The kids lined up in their normal spot, chatting excitedly about their costumes and candy bags.

“Lord, Ms. Y/L/N, you’re something else,” Will laughed.

“Is it not the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen?” She laughed and tapped the green shrubbery hanging in her face. “I have the kids do a little persuasive writing thing every year. They draw a picture and write a sentence about what they think Ms. Y/L/N should be for Halloween, and then we take a vote.”

She waved her hands in that way Spencer loved, the way that was so similar to his own. “Usually the options are pretty tame, you know—ghost, witch, bumblebee. This year was a near tie between runner-up Jojo Siwa and well,” she gestured at herself, “carrot.” Y/N cackled, and the leaves on top of her head shook with the action.

They all laughed along with her, and then JJ added, “The details are truly incredible. Is this an actual plant on your head?”

“I really thought about it,” Y/N laughed, “but no, it’s just fake ferns stuffed into a cardstock funnel.” She gestured at Will and JJ. “But also, excuse me— this family costume is ridiculously cute. Mr. Lamontagne, loving this onesie. Mrs. Jareau, I didn’t even know it was possible to look prettier than you usually do, but here you are. And Michael’s Anna costume?” She held her hands up. “Incredible. Show stopping. I wish I had an aunt Penelope to enlist the help of, because that cape is the actual height of fashion.”

“She helped Spence, too,” JJ prompted, stealing a glance in his direction.

“Oh yeah?” Y/N asked, turning to smile at Spencer.

“We um, 3D printed the ears,” he clarified.

“No way!” She took a step closer to him, peering up at the detail on the headband. He leaned down a little for her to get a closer look. “That is so cool. I’ve never actually seen anything 3D printed up close before— did you design them yourself?”

She met his eyes briefly, and he realized how close they were— close enough that he caught the faintest whiff of sandalwood and cardamom. Of course she even smelled like warmth and home. “Well. I, um— I drew a sort of sketch, I guess. And then Penelope did the software coding. I— I’m not very good with technology, honestly.”

She ran her fingers lightly over the plastic, and he decided she was really trying to kill him. “Yeah, I’m not sure I really understand how it works.”

“Well, first you create a blueprint file of the design you want to print, which you can do through modeling software or three-dimensional scanning. Then you convert the file into an STL file— named for Stereolithography which was the first ever 3D printing process. The STL file is made up of triangular mesh polygons, which is the data that describes the surface of a three-dimensional object. After that, you use a software program to complete the process of slicing— essentially dividing or chopping the 3D model into hundreds or thousands of horizontal layers that the printer can print one at a time to create the 3D object. And then the printer prints each layer until you have your finished product.”

Y/N was quiet, and he pulled back to see her grinning at him. “I thought you said you weren’t very good with technology?”

“I’m not good with using technology,” he clarified.

She nodded. “Gotcha. So you just know everything about it.”

Her joking tone had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I read a lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“I can read at a rate of 20,000 words per minute, so… a lot.”

Her eyebrows shot up into the tangle of ferns on her head, and he was just so overwhelmed by how adorable she was. “Well, if I ever have a question about anything, I know who I’m coming to.”

He was sure he was blushing, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. “I’m happy to answer any and all of your questions.”

She let her gaze travel over the rest of the costume. “Oh my god, the sandals! Man, you really nailed it. I’m very impressed.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I thought about being Trunchbull, but I couldn’t find the sweatshirt,” he joked.

She laughed, and he wanted to bottle it up to keep forever. “As much as I would have loved to see your hair in a bun… you’re much too sweet to have been able to pull that off.” She smiled softly at him. “Much more suited to our friend the BFG.”

He rubbed a hand down the back of his neck, and it was only then that he realized Will and JJ had gone to the car. He looked back to Y/N, opening his mouth but unsure of what he was going to say.

“Y/L/N!” He turned his head to see Anita jogging toward them. “Did you—” The giant cardboard box she was wearing knocked into one of the few kindergarteners left in Y/N’s line, nearly sending them to the ground. “Oh my gosh, sorry sweetheart!” She righted the startled child, and Spencer gave her a once over, completely at a loss as to what her costume could be.

“What in the world are you supposed to be?” Y/N asked, choking out a laugh.

Anita looked at her deadpan. “A monopoly piece. Remind me that I’m never participating in team costumes ever again.” She rolled her eyes and gestured at Y/N. “Next year I’m gonna wear an orange t-shirt, call myself a carrot, and be much more comfortable.”

“I’ll have you know this costume was a lot of work,” Y/N remarked, crossing her arms.

“I’m sure it was. You could have put on an orange dress, stuck a green pipe cleaner in your hair, and called it a day, but that’s not the Y/L/N way.” Anita’s eyes slid across to where Spencer stood. “Well, hello, doctor. I have absolutely no idea what you’re supposed to be, but I love everything about it.”

“Spencer’s the BFG,” Y/N said, and Spencer could have sworn she sounded almost proud.

“Ah, Roald Dahl, of course.” Anita smirked. “I see you, Spencer. I see you.” She put her hands on her hips— or rather where her hips would have been if they weren’t covered by a ridiculously large box. “So, when are you going to volunteer?”

“Sorry?” he asked.

“Like, when are you going to volunteer in Y/L/N’s classroom?” She held up her hand, palm down, and made a circular motion between the two of them. “You know, hang out, but professionally.”

“Oh my god, did you need something?” Y/N’s squeaked, eyes wide.

Anita ignored her. “You just have to do a background check, but I’m sure you’ll pass it.”

“Lopez,” Y/N said, staring her down. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, I was just going to ask if you got the email about the PD after school on Tuesday. But this was much more fun.” She winked at Spencer. “Bye, Spencer.”

They both stared after her as she nearly skipped across the grass to the building. Y/N turned to him. “I’m— so sorry.”

He met her eyes and took the leap. “Volunteering could be fun.”

He watched her press her lips together to contain her smile. “It could be.”

He didn’t bother containing his own. “I’ll um— I’ll shoot you an email.”

“I’ll respond to your email.”

…

When he walked in the door, Spencer made a beeline for his desk. He opened his laptop and pulled up his email account, writing as fast as his one-finger typing would allow.

Spencer Reid Re: Volunteering

Hi!

I’m just following up about volunteering. Anita mentioned a form that I needed to fill out? Now that I’ll be back to work, I’ll just need to plan around the BAU schedule. Could you give me a list of days that would work for you?

Really looking forward to seeing you in action.

Spencer

He checked his two other email messages, and then left the browser up while he thumbed through his most recent reading material.

He sat at his desk for the remainder of the afternoon, distractedly perusing his book and glancing at his empty inbox every minute or so. His gaze flew up to the screen at the ding of a new message at 6:30, only to find a promotional email from one of his favorite indie bookstores.

He closed his laptop with a sigh. It was a Friday night. Y/N probably just didn’t check her email on the weekend. He could wait until Monday. He’d see her on Monday.

He limited himself to checking his laptop twice a day on Saturday and Sunday. When Monday rolled around, he checked it in the morning. He leaned back against the leather of his chair, staring at the empty inbox. He had some errands to run, and for the first time in his life, he wished he had a phone that had email on it.

He ran his last-day-of-sabbatical errands and stopped in at his favorite coffee shop for most likely the last midday, sit-down coffee he’d have for a while. Before he realized, it was 2:30. He brought his empty mug to the counter and waved to the barista. Then he walked to the car and prepped his conversation starters.

“Did you get my email? I sent you an email, just wondering if you saw it? Hey— Hello— Hi, I wasn’t sure if you got my email.” He blew out a breath. “Hi. How are you?” He waved his hand. “I’m great. Did you get my email?” He laughed into the empty car. “Ridiculous, Spencer. You’re ridiculous.”

When he pulled into the parking lot, his heart was racing and his palms were slipping against the steering wheel. He pulled around the loop, looking with a furrowed brow at the area where Y/N should be. In her place was a short woman with cropped grey hair. She held a clipboard and looked generally overwhelmed.

Michael sprinted to the car as soon as he saw it. He pulled open the door and let out a world weary sigh. Spencer turned in his seat. “Everything all right?”

“No, everything is terrible,” he huffed dramatically. “Ms. Y/L/N was sick today. Mrs. Franklin was our substitute, and she smells weird.”

Spencer looked through the window at Mrs. Franklin, struggling to keep a few rowdy boys in the line. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m sure Ms. Y/L/N will be back soon.” He was secretly relieved that he had a potential explanation for the unanswered email.

“I can’t take another day of Mrs. Franklin,” Michael sighed, buckling his seatbelt. “I hope Ms. Y/L/N’s back tomorrow.”

Spencer let out a breath and pulled away from the curb. “Me, too.”

…

JJ huffed out a breath, glaring at the stack of paperwork in front of her. Spencer was nose deep in a book, but he glanced up at the sound. “I can take a few of those if you want,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine,” she sighed. “I’ve really only got six left.”

He looked at his watch. “Each report takes you approximately 37 minutes. With eight minute breaks in between, you’re not going to be out of here until almost 6:00.”

JJ laughed. “I can’t believe I missed out on these scathing performance reviews for thirty days.”

“Suit yourself.” Spencer dropped his gaze back to his reading.

His first week back from sabbatical had been uneventful to say the least. The team had just wrapped a local case, and they’d spent the better part of the week going over consultations and potentials. It was finally Friday, and Spencer was finished with his stack of backlogged reports.

He was finishing the last chapter of the book when JJ dropped a string of quiet curses. He continued reading, waiting for her to ask. She was quiet for another minute.

“I forgot I’m on duty to pick Michael up today.” Spencer looked up at her, slight panic coming over him.

“I really don’t mind finishing your reports,” he offered.

JJ raised her eyebrows. “What, no offering to visit Ms. Y/L/N?”

Spencer closed his book. “I, um. I sent her an email a week ago, and she hasn’t responded.”

“So?”

“So…” Spencer ran a hand through his hair. “That’s weird, right?”

JJ laughed. “You don’t really use email, so I’d imagine your inbox is pretty orderly. But if you use it a lot, it can be easy for messages to get lost.” She looked at him pointedly. “I can almost guarantee that she’s not ignoring you, Spence.”

He sighed. “I guess there’s a quick way to find out.”

...

Spencer drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the door of the school. He glanced at the clock, noting the class was later than they’d ever been. Without really understanding why, he pulled out of the loop and swung back around to park in the lot. He exited the car, and as he rounded the hood, he spotted them.

Y/N was at the front of the line, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket and mouth pressed into a thin line. The line behind her was unlike he’d ever seen it. No waving arms, no smiles, no giggles. Twenty small bodies followed behind her with absolute and total solemnity, and he felt uncomfortable just watching them. It would have almost been funny if it wasn’t so dramatically out of character.

The line weaved around the more rambunctious classes, maintaining their grave expressions and quiet pace. They reached their spot on the sidewalk, and Y/N didn’t even have to say anything. Spencer watched as the line took their spots behind her. She held one hand up to acknowledge parents as they pulled up, murmuring stoic goodbyes to students as they headed to their vehicles.

He hung back at the hood of the car until the majority of the class was gone, slowly making his way across the parking lot. Y/N’s line of sight was pointed in his direction, but her eyes were unfocused in the afternoon sun. He could see the moment that she registered his presence, her eyes widening slightly and bottom lip releasing from the place she’d been absentmindedly chewing. She shifted her weight as he closed the final few feet between them.

“Hi.” She held a silent hand up in greeting. He clenched and unclenched his fingers. “Rough day?”

“It’s not always sunshine and rainbows, despite what everyone thinks,” she snapped. She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes up to the perfectly blue sky, mocking her mood. “I’m sorry. Yes, it was a rough day.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“You don’t deserve my wrath.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the students. “They didn’t either, but— too late for that.”

He watched as she lowered her head back down, rubbing a hand over her face. He desperately wanted to slay whatever dragons had given her normally brilliant eyes such a grey cast. “You have strong relationships with them, and kids are resilient. I’m sure they know you—”

“Please— don’t.” Her voice was thick, and she looked at him with desperate eyes. “I— I appreciate the thought, but I’m— I’m a frustrated crier.” Her shining irises proved her point. “And I’m just— I’m really just trying to keep it together for the last four minutes of my contract time.” Her words were practically a whisper, and she swallowed thickly and glanced down the line, just Michael and one classmate left, eyes downcast.

“I understand.” Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from reaching out and touching her. “I’m sorry. I— I hope your weekend is better than today.”

Michael slowly left the line, murmuring a quiet goodbye to Y/N. Spencer put a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the car, stealing one last glance at a crushed Y/N.

...

Y/N Y/L/N

Re: Re: Volunteering

Hi,

I meant to respond to this email, and then a bunch of things happened, and then I was out all week.

I don’t know if you even still want to volunteer after this afternoon, but it felt rude to not respond at all.

I’ve attached the background check form to this email in case you’re still interested.

Y/N

1 Attachment: Background Check

—

Hi,

I meant what I said this afternoon. Your students love you, and they know you love them. If my conversation with Michael in the car was any indication, they’re feeling rightfully embarrassed and guilty about their behavior while you were out.

Regardless of what happened today, your relationships with your students are strong enough that they will come to school tomorrow knowing that you still care about them. Children don’t hold onto things nearly as much as adults.

It would be a privilege to volunteer in your classroom, even on the worst day.

Spencer

1 Attachment: Background Check - Spencer Reid

—

If I wasn’t already crying, I would be now.

Thanks for that.

No sarcasm intended. Really. Thank you.

—

This might be inappropriate, and if it is, please just pretend like this email doesn’t exist.

I have a favorite cafe in the DuPont circle area, Soho Tea & Coffee. They have an excellent tea drink made with honey and milk that I like to order whenever I’ve had a particularly difficult day.

If you’re up for it, it’s on me.

———

Tags: @spacedikut @uhuhuh @itsametaphorbriansblog @90spumkin @blameitonthenight21 @magenta145 @annesauriol @watermelongubler @ampal98 @rainsong01 @meowiemari @mrsmyaweasley @mggsprettygirl @ceeellewrites @coffeeandendlesswords @daybabyx @joalsglasses @chevyimpala00067 @misshale21 @sapphic-prentiss @danifaithkae @saspencereid @heyitssomegirl101

Permanent tags: @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection @coffeeandendlesswords @justanothetfangirl @no-honey-no @ajeff855

#spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #homoose writes #TMSIDK

659 notes · View notes

hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Come and Go

Part iii of the Without You series: Colson struggles to explain himself, only pushing Y/N further away.

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, angst, Colson being really bad at communicating

Word Count: 1500

| i | ii | iv | v | vi |

masterlist

“Colson?”

You were shocked at first, then upset, and then you were angry. “You can’t just fucking break into my house.” You yelled at him, placing your laptop on the coffee table.

He held his hands up in surrender, “I knew you wouldn’t let me in if I knocked and I have a key so technically it’s not really breaking in.”

“Get out!” You yelled, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you stand up.

“Okay, look. I know you’re upset-“

“Upset? Colson do you remember what you did? What you said to me? And now you show up at my goddamn house what, 2 weeks later? I’m not upset you fucking moron, I’m fucking pissed off right now.”

“I know I fucked up, okay? I’ve gotten enough of a lecture from the guys.” He said, looking more annoyed than apologetic.

You rolled your eyes, sitting back down. “Yeah you seem like you really feel bad Cols.” You said sarcastically.

“What do you mean? I am sorry, Y/N. Sorry I’m not down on one knee or some shit. What did you expect, really?”

You fought hard to keep tears from reaching your eyes. “I didn’t expect anything, honestly. But if you’re gonna come here and waste my time you could at least act sincere about it. You’re acting like this is a joke or some shit. I mean why are you really here?”

Colson walked backwards towards the door, “honestly I’m just here to get the boys off my back. Now I can tell them I tried to apologize and you turned me down and we don’t ever have to talk again, sound good?”

You thought that the next time you saw him you would be begging him to take you back, but now your blood was boiling. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Remember, you mean nothing to me. I don’t give a shit if you actually forgive me or not. In fact I’d rather you not, because then you’ll stay as far away from me as fuckin possible.” His voice was harsh, like he was cutting you with a poisoned blade.

You could only sit and let his words hit you, willing yourself not to break down until he left. You spoke quietly, because that was all you could bare to do. “Get out.”

And he did.

Another week passed, and you seemed to have regressed back into the broken girl. You couldn’t seem to get his words out of your head.

And you felt stupid because you had other friends. You had great friends. But almost all of them were friends you made through Colson and you didn’t want to make them choose. So you chose for them.

Pete still texted you daily, but you’d resorted to giving him short answers or just not answering all together. You hadn’t told him about Colson coming over or what he said, he was already caught in the middle enough as it was.

The one person you told was Rook, only because he told you if you didn’t tell him about it then he would show up at your house and not leave until you told him. And you’d rather just type it all out than have to speak to another person. You just felt so emotionally drained, having an actual conversation with someone just seemed like too much effort.

But, despite telling you he would not come to your house because you told him, he ended up on your doorstep with a very angry Colson.

He rang the doorbell, scaring you slightly. Why was someone at your door at 11 pm?

Against your better judgement, you answered, finding the two boys on your porch.

You raised your eyebrow at Rook, waiting for him to explain himself. “Can we come in?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“You can come in. Not him.” You motioned to Colson without looking at him. You had yet to meet his eyes, but his were shooting holes through you.

“Y/N. We’re coming in. I’m tired of this shit. We’re not leaving until you two figure this out.” Rook was very obviously annoyed, and despite your body in the doorway, he moved into your house. Colson stayed at the door, still looking at you.

You turned away from him, letting him inside, “whatever.” You mumbled. Rook had made himself comfortable in your kitchen, grabbing a beer from your fridge and chips from your cupboard.

You walked into the living room, taking a seat on one of your couches awkwardly. Why the hell were you feeling awkward in your own house?

Colson sat on the other couch, his eyes still following you as you looked everywhere except him. Rook called from the other room, “I don’t hear you guys figuring your shit out!”

“Goddamn man what the fuck do you want us to say? This is fucking bullshit.” Colson called back, standing up from the couch and turning to the door.

Rook blocked his path, venom in his voice. “Sit down. You’re not fucking leaving.” His voice got quieter and you almost missed his next words. “Fucking fix this.”

Colson let out a sigh, “fine, but can you at least give us some space man?”

Rook studied Colson for a moment. “Fine. But if you hurt her again I’ll kill you, bro.” He opened the front door, giving you a small smile and a wink before closing it behind him.

Colson turned back towards you, studying you, trying to figure out where he stood with you. You were looking down at your hands, picking your nails to avoid looking at Colson’s blue eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything, Colson. I’ll just tell Rook you tried to apologize for real this time and I shut you down. I just want all this shit to be done with. I’m over it.”

You didn’t know it, but Colson’s heart sank further into his stomach. You sounded so defeated, so broken. It was exactly what he intended to do, and he knew it would hurt him too, but he wasn’t sure he could see you like this anymore.

He slowly made his way back towards you, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch you sat on. “I think it’s time I was honest with you,” he paused, “and with myself.”

“No offense Colson but I think I’ve had enough honesty from you to last a lifetime.” You muttered, still looking at your lap.

“Can you just hear me out? Please?” You didn’t answer, so he took his cue to continue. “I’m scared, Y/N. I’m fucking terrified.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “If you’re that scared of living without Megan then just go beg for her back.”

He took a deep breath, “That’s not what I’m scared of.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, turning your head towards him but still avoiding his eyes.

“I’m scared of.” He paused, trying to find the words, “I’m scared of falling in love.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Colson. That’s a shitty fucking-“

“Just let me finish, please.”

“Whatever.” You mumbled, realizing this conversation wasn’t going to actually fix anything.

Colson took another deep breath. “I’m scared of falling in love because every time I do, the person I love gets hurt. I’m not good for anyone. I- I fuck people up.”

You were still pretty confused but you put some dots together. “So, what, you were upset that you hurt Megan and you blamed it on me? Right. Cool. Great talk.” You rolled your eyes, waiting for him to get up and leave.

“Can you fucking listen to me, please?” He turned towards you. “I wasn’t in love with Megan, that was the whole problem.”

You finally found the courage to look at him. His blue eyes pierced yours as you studied his face. The sunken bags under his eyes, the unshaven stubble adorning his jaw, the unkempt hair.

“I’m in love with you. And I think I always have been.”

His words came out as a whisper. You felt tears surface and it took everything inside of you not to let them fall.

“You’re an asshole.” You stood up, walking towards the bedroom.

He followed you, “what do you mean?”

You turned back to face him, standing in your doorframe. “Yeah, Colson, this is all really funny to you, I’m sure. Is this your way of humiliating me even more? You make me feel like shit and then you try to convince me you love me? And then I fall for it and you-“

You were cut off as Colson’s lips met yours, his hands on either side of your face. At first you reacted, kissing him back before coming to your senses. You pushed him off of you and he stumbled back.

The tears in your eyes began to fall and you felt utterly ridiculous. “Fuck you. Get out of my house. Don’t ever fucking talk to me again.” You said, closing your bedroom door in his face.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker angst #rook cappelletty

243 notes · View notes

peaceisadirtyword · 3 years

Text

Move On IV (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!💕 I don’t even know how I managed to finish this with the crazy week I’ve had💀 I had 3 exams, a huge paper to hand in and a presentation. But somehow, I did this too and I wanted to post it as soon as possible🥰 I’m quite happy of how this one turned out considering I hadn’t that much time to work on it. So I hope you like it!♥️ There’s not many parts left (2 or 3) but I have an idea for a “sequel” so if you guys like this one, maybe when it’s done I’ll work on that!

Now enjoy, stay safe and enjoy the holidays, even if this year isn’t the best one for celebrations😅 See you soon🥰

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, angst, implied Hvitserk x Reader, don’t kill me for this lol

Words: 4179 (I’m sorry)

Move On II III

gifs belong to @therealcalicali and @honestsycrets

You actually liked to go shopping. You enjoyed walking around the shops and looking at beautiful clothes and shoes. You didn't like to try on the clothes, though, because the comparisons between the model on the photos and you were awful.

"Aren't you gonna try that on, Y/N?"

Torvi's voice startled you. She just got out of one of the fitting rooms, wearing a beautiful silver dress that made her look even better than the model. You widened your eyes.

"I... Don't think this will fit me" you glanced at the clothes they made you pick. Party clothes; tight dresses, short skirts, low cut crop tops... "I'm more of a comfy sweatpants and oversized hoodies girl" you raised an eyebrow.

Torvi chuckled, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"Come on, Y/N, I want to see how you look on them!"

She looked at herself on the mirror, frowning softly. You looked at the pile of clothes on the wooden table and wondered why you agreed to go shopping with Torvi, Gunhild and Lagertha when you could be at home, eating cookies and watching Disney movies with Hvitserk.

They insisted on going shopping and then go and grab lunch. As you barely had any social life anymore, you thought it'd be a great idea. Then they entered one of those expensive shops that you could only admire from afar and glare with jealousy to the people that exited the store with a couple of bags.

"Okay, I think this is the one" Torvi shrugged happily "What do you think?" She turned around and you smiled softly.

"You look beautiful"

"Thank you" her smile widened "You're the sweetest, Y/N"

"Are you girls done?" Lagertha's voice startled you, her head peeked through the door.

"Nearly" Torvi winked at her "What do you think about this dress? Y/N likes it"

"I think you look perfect on it" Lagertha smiled at her ex daughter in law. You were still amazed with the narrative of that family, but it wasn't your place to judge "What about you, Y/N? Did you try anything?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but Torvi interrupted you.

"She didn't, I keep telling her she should, but she won't listen" she raised an eyebrow and you groan, rubbing your face.

"Come on, we're not leaving until you try something on" Lagertha chuckled.

Sighing, you rubbed your face and grabbed the clothes, rolling your eyes as you entered the fitting room, making Torvi and Lagertha smirk in victory.

_________________________________________

"So... We could go out" Torvi looked excited as you stared at your lunch. You had nothing against modern, expensive restaurant but you weren't sure if it was legal that they asked that amount of money for that.

"We're already out, Torvi" Gunhild chuckled. Out of all of them, she was the one you could relate to the most, she was the most calm, the quiet, but also as fierce as Lagertha if not more.

"I know" Torvi rolled her eyes "But maybe we should go out to a nightclub, you know, I haven't been out in forever and I want to, this whole 'plan the perfect wedding' thing is stressing me out"

"You don't need to plan the perfect wedding, every wedding is perfect when you're in love" Lagertha raised her cup of champagne softly, and you chewed at your food slowly.

"I know, I know, I just... Ubbe is the one, you know?"

"We know, Torvi" Gunhild smiled widely at her "But you see... My own wedding with Björn was quite rushed, and still... Magical" she blushed softly, looking down.

You smiled, remembering her wedding. You had attended with Ivar, who wasn't too excited to go to his half-brother's wedding and was nearly obligated by his family. The two of you left very early, but not before having sex on the limousine Björn had rented.

"I know you will have the same thing with Ubbe, I can see it" Lagertha caressed Torvi's hand over the table.

"Okay stop getting emotional, I know what you're doing" she narrowed her eyes at them "Can we go out, please?"

They laughed, and even you chuckled softly.

"Y/N, I trust you, don't leave me alone" she pouted at you "Tonight?"

"I'm afraid I work tonight" you smiled apologetically "But you all can go out! I'm sure you'll have a better time without me"

"No, we need you" she sighed "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I suppose tomorrow is fine..."

"Perfect!" She giggled.

"I'm afraid my time on nightclubs is already over, girls" Lagertha laughed "But I wish you have a great time, enjoy your youth"

"I think I can" Gunhild nodded "But I'll leave early"

Torvi looked satisfied.

"Okay, I can call Sigurd's new girlfriend too"

"Sigurd has a girlfriend?" You raised an eyebrow. You didn't know anything, but as you barely talked to him due to his bad relationship with Ivar, it didn't surprise you.

"Yeah, I met her when we had dinner with them to tell them about the wedding... She's cute, and nice... It looks like our dear Sigurd finally settled down... Ubbe was relieved to hear about her, he was really worried that the rockstar life was too much for him"

Even Sigurd, the now semi-famous musician that girls pursued after his gigs, the soft and sweet Sigurd that had had nearly as many girls as Hvitserk, had settled down. He had an stable relationship. You, on the other hand, had a shitty job and spent your nights watching Disney movies.

You kept eating as Torvi talked about her favorite clubs, trying to decide which one was more suitable for a girls' night. But suddenly, someone entering the restaurant, and your eyes widened. Torvi stopped talking and Lagertha raised an eyebrow, turning her head to look at the door.

Of all the people you'd think you might run into on a posh restaurant, Aslaug wasn't one of them. She looked as beautiful and flawless as always, with her hair tied on an elegant bun and her subtle makeup that made her pretty eyes stand out. Ivar had his father's eye color, but the shape was much more similar to his mother's. They resembled each other, and it made your stomach turn.

She looked around the restaurant, and when her eyes found yours, she looked surprised. An strange expression crossed her face, but she flashed you a sweet smile. Aslaug seemed cold and distant to most people, but to you she was always sweet and caring, treating you like the daughter she always wanted but never got.

Her smile turned a bit stern when she looked at Lagertha and Torvi, ignoring Gunhild. Then she turned to the bar, smiling politely at the waitress.

Then the eyes turned to you. You cleared your throat nervously and avoided them. It was true that, out of Ivar's family, the only people you had a close relationship with were Hvitserk, Aslaug, Floki and Helga, and sometimes Ubbe, even if that changed when he decided to get closer to his half brother and Lagertha. Now things had changed, and you still felt a bit out of place in this new social circle Alfred had introduced to you, but your link to the "enemy" was much stronger.

"I... I'm going to say hello" you muttered.

No one said anything, and you nearly felt sick. When you arrived to the bar, Aslaug was talking to a man next to her. You hadn't even realized he walked in after her, like her favored son, she had the gift of making everyone aware of only her presence by just walking in a room.

"Hi, Aslaug"

She turned to face you, her face lightened up and her smile widened. This time it reached her eyes.

"Y/N, my sweet girl, hello" she hugged you tightly, and you sighed, hugging her back. You missed her "I was wondering if you'd say hello... How are you, my dear?"

"I'm fine" you nodded "How are you?"

"I'm good, honey, I'm so happy to see you, I was worried when you..." She licked her lips, nervously "I called you a couple of times, but you didn't pick up"

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that... I kind of neglected my phone for a few weeks"

"I understand" she nodded. If anyone in the world understood exactly how you felt, it was Aslaug "I truly do, Hvitserk has been talking to me about you, I'm glad you haven't completely cut off communications with my family, we need you"

"Of course" you giggled "Hvitserk is one of my closest friends, and that won't change"

I hope, you thought. You kind of felt very replaceable.

"I'm glad to see you" she repeated, the smile never left her lips "Remember you will always be welcome in our home, Y/N"

"Thank you, Aslaug" you nearly teared up "I think I should go back now..."

"Yeah, go and have fun, dear" she caressed your cheek softly, not even mentioning the people you were with "Goodbye"

"Bye, have a good day" you shot her another wide smile.

______________________________________________

Thora looked impressed when you arrived to the cafeteria with Torvi, Lagertha and Gunhild. She was polite to them, but it was obvious that she was surprised to see you hanging out with them.

'Wow' was the only thing she said once they left, making you promise you'd wear the dress you had bought that morning to the club the night after.

"Don't even mention it" you groaned, rubbing your face as the both of you got ready to start your shift.

"I didn't take you for someone that had brunch with these people" Thora held back a laugh, and you hit her arm playfully.

"They're really nice" you muttered "They're just trying to make me feel better"

"Yeah, they seem nice, but... Are you sure you fit in that group, Y/N?" She raised an eyebrow "Don't get offended, but I never pictured you in there"

"No, I don't" you sighed "As I'm seeing Alfred now, I suppose they see me like one of them"

"You're seeing..."

"Not like that" you glared at her "Shut up, we're just friends"

This time she didn't hold back the laugh.

"I went on a date with Hvitserk" she cleared her throat, and you looked up at her again, interested.

"And?"

"Nothing, he's just not my type" she shrugged, making you groan.

"He likes you, I know it" you winked at her.

Thora shook her head.

"Hvitserk is the kind of man that likes everyone" she laughed "It's okay, he's nice and fun, but not what I'm looking for... I have another date tonight, though, with a guy I met on Tinder"

"You're on Tinder?" You frowned as you kept drying the coffee cups.

"Yes, and you should too" she giggled when you widened your eyes at her "Come on, Y/N, you're young, hot and cute, stop thinking about a boy that didn't appreciate you, you deserve to spend your nights having orgasms, not chocolate ice-cream"

"But I like chocolate ice-cream" you muttered.

"More than orgasms?" She chuckled, and just when you were about to answer, she interrupted you "Don't answer, you're weird" she rolled her eyes.

Hvitserk surprised you at the end of your shift with a bag full of beers. He had brought his car and offered you a late night with beer, chips and reality shows. As it was probably the best plan you could have, you said yes, and opened one of the beers even before entering the car. You saw Hvitserk glance at Thora as she stayed to close the cafeteria and wait for her date, chatting with a girl she knew from university that visited her at work.

"You should work a bit for it" you said, raising an eyebrow at him as he drove to your home with a poker face.

"She's not interested" he shrugged. As Hvitserk wasn't used to having girls reject him, it had hurt his pride.

"But you can make her interested if you do things right" you chuckled "You Lothbrok boys are always waiting for girls battling their eyelashes at you"

Hvitserk laughed.

"You're right, what can I say? I'm surprised you didn't battle your eyelashes at me yet"

"I was busy with your brother, Hvitty" you giggled "Until he got tired of me"

Hvitserk's smile faded slowly, and as soon as he could, he put his hand on your thigh, turning to look at you.

"How are you, Y/N?"

"I'm fine, it's okay" you muttered, shrugging "I saw your mother today"

"Yeah she told me" he nodded, his attention back to the road "She also asked me not to say anything to Ivar" he sighed "It's because she doesn't like Freydis, she came home for dinner the other day and I could swear she would have loved to sink the knife on her neck" he held back a smile.

God, you loved Aslaug.

"Why? What happens with Freydis that no one likes her?" You asked, curious.

"You've seen them together, haven't you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, briefly... Alfred and I left immediately, I barely talked to them"

"Ivar is infatuated with her" he sighed "He's lost his mind, Y/N, he's not even rational now, his whole world is Freydis, it's not love, it's... I'm worried about him" he frowned "He's changing, he can't see anything past her"

"Have you tried to talk to him? Maybe he needs a bit of big brother guidance"

"I can't talk to him, he's... He doesn't listen. No matter what I tell him, he doesn't trust me"

"Ivar has a hard time trusting people" you said softly "Maybe..."

"Don't defend him" he glared at you "I know what you mean, but he's known her for a few months, Y/N, and he's pushing away every single person that was important to him, he's not even going to physical therapy anymore"

You frowned a bit. Ivar hated therapy, but he always understood he needed to do it. Suddenly you felt the need of texting him.

"Stop worrying about him, Y/N" Hvitserk narrowed his eyes "It's my job to worry about him because he's my little brother, but you can forget about him now"

When you arrived home, Hvitserk went directly to the kitchen to heat up the sandwiches you had taken from the cafeteria and put the beers in the fridge as you entered your bedroom, sighing tiredly.

"I'm going to take a shower" you raised your voice, and after Hvitserk hummed, probably with his mouth full of food, you entered the bathroom, closing the door and taking off your clothes.

The warm water relaxed your body and you were able to finally stop thinking, leaving your mind completely blank.

It didn't last, though.

As soon as you left the shower, you unlocked your phone, looking for Ivar's contact. The last text messages you had exchanged were from the last days of your relationship. Ivar didn't like to text, so he usually only replied with monosyllables and then called you to hear your voice, but in those last weeks he hadn't even replied. In that moment, you had tried to convince yourself that it was normal, that he might hadn't feel like texting you, but then he had broken up with you. Scrolling down the messages, you could tell exactly the day he had realized he wasn't in love with you anymore -if he had ever been in love, which you started to doubt-. You let your throat ache and a couple of tears run down your cheek before wiping them away and writing the message you had in mind.

Hi Ivar. Are you okay?

You didn't think he'd reply. But after hearing people saying how weird Ivar was acting (even more than the usual) and how Freydis had changed him, you started to wonder if he was okay. No matter how much he hurt you, he was still someone you cared deeply about.

A knock on the bathroom door startled you.

"Y/N? Are you alive?" Hvitserk sounded a bit worried as he knocked on the door. You cleared your throat and dried the few tears on your face.

"Yes! Sorry! I'll be out in five!"

____________________________________

The beers didn't last as long as you thought. It was past midnight when Hvitserk convinced you to open the bottle of vodka you had bought months ago and already forgot why.

It resulted on a blurry night, as the both of you started feeling more and more happy, you watched stupid movies and laughed at them. You forgot about Ivar, the text and the ache in your chest. Hvitserk was the only one that could make you forget everything and laugh so much.

"Come on, that never happens" Hvitserk groaned, rubbing his eyes with his voice already a bit unsteady. The brothers had a high alcohol tolerance, but Hvitserk was always the one that got drunk first "The girl never runs back to us, we're the ones that have to chase them"

You giggled drunkenly, hitting his arm.

"Yeah, we have to make you work for it"

He rolled his eyes, drinking directly from the bottle now.

"It's always easier to go out to a pub and have sex with another girl"

You giggled again. For some reason, every single thing he said felt like the funniest thing ever.

"Yeah, we can do that too" you smirked "For example, as you don't want to work for Thora, she's now out on a date and probably having sex with another guy while you're in my apartment getting drunk and criticizing terrible movies... Who's losing now?" You raised an eyebrow, smiling in victory. Hvitserk frowned and glared at you as you laid back on the couch.

"Are you saying I should go out and find someone to have sex with?"

"No" you giggled "I'm saying you should call Thora tomorrow"

"Anyway" he scoffed again "You should be the one going out to have sex"

"Me?" You laughed "Why?"

"When was the last time you had an orgasm, Y/N?"

You closed your eyes and pressed your fingers against your temple. It was hard to think when you had that... Noise in your head.

"I can't remember" you muttered "Probably before..." You hummed. He knew what you meant.

"What?" He widened his eyes, and his jaw dropped "It's been months, Y/N, what the hell?" He groaned "You didn't even touch yourself?"

You were so drunk that you didn't even flinch at his question.

"I don't have time for that" you frowned.

"Well, now I know why you're always pouting and looking like a lost puppy"

You opened your eyes to glare at him, even if you only saw a blurry bulge on the other side of your couch.

"I don't pout" you scoffed "And I'm just not ready to get to know someone new, Hvitty"

"You don't have to know them, you just need to fuck them" he shrugged "It works, you know, it helps to move on... In fact, this is what you should do; you should go out, pick someone, take them to my flat and fuck them on Ivar's bed"

You couldn't help the burst of laugher that brought tears to your eyes. Hvitserk looked amused.

"I'm serious, that should teach that asshole a fucking lesson, he needs it"

"I miss him" you muttered when the laughter died down "I texted him"

You couldn't see it, but Hvitserk sighed and rubbed his eyes. He moved then, startling you when he laid down next to you, hugging you softly. It made you smile.

"You need to stop, Y/N" he whispered then, and the lump in the throat came back "You really need to move on, you're amazing, and there's so many people in the world that deserves you much more than my stupid brother"

"I know" you sighed "But I want him"

Hvitserk hummed. He knew the feeling. He also knew you'd get over it, with time, but now it was difficult.

"That's why you need to go out there and enjoy your youth, Y/N" he drank from the bottle again, making you laugh "Get drunk, have sex and stop living like you're fifty and getting over your second divorce"

"Sounds easy when you say it" you giggled turning around to face him.

"You just need to do it" he muttered. Your eyelids already felt heavy, and when you opened your eyes, you saw Ivar. You didn't even know why, Ivar and Hvitserk didn't really look alike, but in that moment you saw him, his deep blue eyes staring at you, his pouty lips, his cute nose... Even that nervous expression he had whenever the two of you were alone. Your heart started beating faster and faster, and you felt his arms around you. You could even smell him. Oh, gods, you missed him so much. You would give anything, your own life, just to be able to kiss him again, even if it was for the last time.

So you just leant in and kissed him.

He kissed you back, but that kiss didn't feel like Ivar's... This one was much more rushed, it was good but... It lacked Ivar's passion and intensity. It wasn't the same.

Anyway, you kept kissing him, as his hands roamed up and down your body. You might knew you were kissing Hvitserk, but decided to ignore it. Maybe he was right and you just needed someone to move on.

_______________________________________

Ivar just glared at his phone. He had been glaring at it for the past two hours, since Freydis left, saying she was meeting some friends that night. Then he checked his phone and he nearly dropped it when he saw your name on his screen. Why were you texting him now? He thought you hated him. It was easier that way.

He rubbed his face, groaning and laying back on his bed. His legs hurt so much that day... No matter how many painkillers he had taken, how much he rested. He was feeling like someone just ran over him with a truck.

Hvitserk didn't come home either. Not that it made a difference. The long nights they spent drinking cheap beer and talking about family and life were long forgotten. They weren't as close now. He was probably fucking someone he just met, or getting drunk. Did he mention he'd go to your house to see you? Maybe. Ivar had stopped listening whenever your name came up, trying to avoid that rage he felt the last time he saw you, getting all cozy and giggly with Alfred. The fucking Alfred.

You always insisted he was only a friend, but he knew better, if he hadn't left you for Freydis, you'd probably have ended up leaving him for Alfred. He was better for you anyway.

Hi Ivar. Are you okay?

Why did you care? Were you thinking about him and suddenly wanted to know if he was okay? Did anyone say anything to you?

He had to hold back a smile when he saw your profile picture. It was you in Iceland, hugging one of the huskies Floki had on his house in Skógar. Freki, the husky you had fallen in love with, was infatuated with you, too, and Ivar found very amusing how he would follow you anywhere, trying to get your attention. It reminded him of himself, actually, annoyed when you diverted your attention to something that wasn't him. Ivar had a serious talk with the dog, explaining him that he wasn't allowed to get into bed with you, let alone cuddle you in your sleep, the only living being that could do that was Ivar.

He took that picture one morning you decided to take Freki for a walk. The husky had been so excited to see you that he had knocked you down to the floor, making you laugh. The picture had you looking at the camera, hugging Freki as he tried to lick your cheek.

When he locked his phone again, the warm tingling on his chest disappeared. It made him sigh, closing his eyes. Freydis was perfect, wasn't she? She was beautiful, sweet, she loved him. She made him understand he was special, that he needed no one but her.

She was perfect. She was the one, and she loved him as much as he did, she always said it. At least a few times a day, she smiled sweetly and said that she loved him, so that meant she loved him, right? You didn't say it that much. But then again, you would have never left him alone knowing he was in pain.

Shaking his head, he unlocked his phone again and wrote a quick text.

Yeah, thanks.

Then he deleted your number. He didn't want to see that photo with Freki, smiling at him, he didn't want to think about you or about what you would have done. You weren't part of his life anymore.

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1 @justacripple @love-dria @heartbeats-wildly @letsrunawaytotomorrow @inforapound @sallydelys @hellogabysblog @hecohansen31 @youbloodymadgenius @xinyourdreamsx @funmadnessandbadassvikings @eteramfools @tgrrose @flokidottirsstuff @lovessce @tootie-fruity @didiintheblog @alexhandersenx @belovedcherry @fantasydevil2002 @xceafh @astrape-the-weatherwitch @destynelseclipsa @poisonous00 @littlebear423 @xbellaxcarolinax @soleil-dor @geekydane-post @katarokkar11 @crackhead1-800

I hope I didn’t forget anyone :( if I did please tell me

#ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #modern ivar #vikings #vikings imagine #modern vikings

310 notes · View notes

koshicoast · 3 years

Text

A few shinkami headcannons because I love them more than anything

Shinsou has a growth spurt and practically towers over Denki by their second year (for all intents and purposes, Shinsou has always been in class 1A)

Denki grows a little bit but not that much, he’s not complaining though, he gets Shinsou to grab stuff on the top shelve for him or has him hang up posters in higher places in his room (the only downside is that he has to get on his tippy toes for kisses but usually Shinsou will just bend down like a good boyfriend)

They go on dates every Sunday, It’s their day and it doesn’t matter what they’re doing as long as it’s just the two of them

They could be studying or doing homework or exercising or anything really and they’ll call it a date

The rest of the class knows better than to try and contact either boy on Sunday

“Normies worship Jesus on Sunday but I worship Shinsou” - Denki, at one point in time

Shinsou loves playing with denki’s hair, he buys different kinds of hair clips just to put them in denki’s hair

he just likes how the colors pop out

He especially likes to see purple hair clips in denki’s hair

Tbh it doesn’t have to be hair clips, it could be a scrunchie or a rubber band or a headband; as long as it’s purple it does wonders to shinsou’s heart

Denki likes playing with shinsou’s hair too but more than that he likes seeing Shinsou in yellow clothing

Shinsou doesn’t wear bright colors a lot usually sticking with black or cool tone colors

But when he does wear yellow, Denki just gets all mushy no matter how small it is

It could be yellow earrings or socks or something and Denki will wear a love sick expression all day

Despite being in the hero course, Shinsou still gets incredibly insecure about his quirk and how some people only see him as a villain

Denki, without fail or hesitation, tells Shinsou what a great hero he’s gonna be, he talks about how Shinsou is gonna inspire a new wave of underground heroes and how he’s gonna be some kid’s Aizawa one day and how proud he is of him (The first time he said that, it makes Shinsou sob. It makes denki cry too bc he’s a sympathetic crier so they just lay in bed holding eachother)

He also tells Shinsou how no matter who’s the number one hero, Shinsou will always have first place in his heart. And that Shinsou is just as much as any other hero out there and even a little more because he’ll be underground

Denki just loves his boyfriend so much and whoever planted the idea that some quirks are just made for evil is going to get electrocuted >:(

Denki will also pepper Shinsou in kisses saying things like ‘you are so kind’ ‘you’re an amazing person’ ‘I love you so much’ ‘You’re my hero’ and just a bunch of stuff so by the end of their heart to heart Shinsou is feeling a lot better

Denki gets insecure about how ‘dumb’ he is and how he’ll probably just end up hurting civilians or himself before he hurts a villain

Shinsou hates how that’s how Denki views himself because Denki is one of the kindest people in the world and doesn’t even realize it like the first time Denki told him that insecurity, Shinsou looked at him and was like ‘are you..you’re serious? Denks, You’re one of the most clever people I know’

Whenever Denki mentions it, Shinsou he just squeezes the blonde and lets him cry out his frustrations before telling him that ‘he’s not an idiot or stupid and that it’s okay not to understand something as fast as others and that it’s okay to learn differently and it’s okay’ (Shinsou will always try not to cry but a few tears fall anyways bc he just wants denks to be happy without feeling like he’s a fuckup)

Shinsou never lets Denki call himself an idiot or stupid, even in a joking way.

They don’t fight a lot because of their personalities like

Denki is a people’s person and is really in tune with other’s emotions and by default is a pacifist unless otherwise

Shinsou isn’t a people’s person but he’s observant due to his quirk bc of how he’s been treated in the past, he’s also good at picking up on people’s body language

Most times it’s just small disagreements and even then they communicate the best they can and try to compromise

If that doesn’t work then they’ll give each other space so the disagreement won’t turn into something ugly

They’ve only fought once and it was the worst (and best) thing for them

The fight happened after a mock rescue mission goes wrong and there were weeks of stress and tension leading up to it

It was messy and bad like really bad

“I just don’t get why you have to run into danger!” Denki screamed. The whole dorm could probably hear them but he didn’t care, not when his boyfriend was looking at him like he just lost his mind.

It was supposed to be a simple training exercise. Simple. Go in, defeat villains, rescue the ‘hostages’. It was not that simple.

*insert how badly the mission went and Shinsou ran towards the danger to help or smth idk*

It gets pretty rough between the two of them because they’re both pretty emotional people

Shinsou thinks denki doesn’t want him to be a hero and denki thinks Shinsou doesn’t want to be with him

It’s a lot of insecurities + stress + yelling

Denki is the first one to break, he’s a lot more emotionally sensitive than Toshi and everything is just crashing down and he hates it

“Do you just not want to be with me?!” He cries, unable to keep the tears at bay any more. He hates arguing with people, especially when that person happens to be his boyfriend. He gets it, he does! Toshi is training to become a hero and so is he but that doesn’t make it easier. Doesnt stop the shot of fear whenever he watches the other get hurt, doesn’t stop the late night self deprecation, doesn’t stop the anxiety he gets whenever he sees Toshi run head first into danger.

But he gets it and somehow it’s a bitter realization.

Because Hitoshi’s priority is the job they signed up for and Denki’s is Hitoshi.

The fight ends with tears on both their parts and they call it a night, too tired to scream anymore

They sleep in their own rooms that night

The next morning they agree to take a break, not a full break up, but some time away. Space away from each other to prioritize and think.

(Now ive seen fanfics where everyone picks denki over Shinsou and i hate that so fuck you, class 1A are both their friends and they’re all family and try and to help each other I will die with that statement)

Surprisingly the two most helpful people are Bakugou and Kirishima

(Actually not that surprising, they’re the longest couple in the whole class, dating immediately after Kamino)

Bakugou and denki have a heart to heart

“You’re both dumbasses” Katsuki sighs heavy, passing another tissue over to the sobbing blonde. He’s not good at these kinds of things, but Kirishima told him he could help the electric blonde more than he could so here he is. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong or just cry?” He asks, not without a hint of worry though. He pretends to ignore it.

So denki tells him everything and his insecurities

Oh. Yeah, Kirishima was right.

“You think I’m an idiot” Denki mutters quietly, harshly rubbing his eyes.

“No” The older blonde shakes his head, plopping down on the bed next to the other. He doesn’t turn to meet yellow eyes, his own trained on the All Might poster hanging directly across from them. He feels Pikachu’s curious gaze on him so he decides to elaborate more, knowing the sooner he helps the sooner he doesn’t have to deal with this anymore. It’s totally not because he’s gotten soft. Absolutely not.

“Trust me, Zombie Eyes looks at you like you put the fucking stars in the sky. It’s disgusting to watch.” He crinkles his nose in disgust earning a small laugh. “People like him and I, we gotta work twice as hard. Not saying that no one else does but it’s different.” He stresses the last word. “People like Ei or Deku or even you, people already see you as good so all you gotta do is get stronger. They don’t question your character, your morals, they don’t look down on you for having a weakness. People like Zombie Eyes and I though?we gotta work hard just to prove that we’re good. That we were meant to become heroes. Every action we do is put under a microscope and analyzed.” He explains.

“We’re assholes by default, It’s how we were raised. Not saying it as an excuse though. He was in the shitty system and I had shitty parents, no adult taught us shit like love or how to properly deal with feelings.”

Stupid Deku tried with him but he didn’t even know how to deal with his own much less some angry blond kid’s.

He takes a deep breath, pushing back faint memories of his childhood. The younger hasn’t said a word but he can tell he’s listening so it’s fine. “We can’t just turn off how we are. If it’s frustrating for you and Ei, It’s worse for us. Like we know logically that we’re good people, that we changed but that’s now how our brain sees it. We push ourselves because that’s all we know how to do, it proves to us and everyone else that we bled for our spot here. That we made it. Having friends is hard because we compare ourselves to them and draw our own conclusions to their actions. Being nice? Our brain says it’s a trap. Showing some human fucking decency? Our shitty brain says it’s an act. Being in a relationship? Laughable. We’re just villains pretending to play heroes to everyone else.”

He takes another deep breath, forcing himself to look away from the poster, flashbacks to their first year briefly passing in his head. Okay yeah, not going down that route. He looks over, making eye contact. He wonders if this is how Kirishima feels whenever he’s trying to cheer him up. Wonders if it’s just as hard. This better be worth it, everyone has been miserable. (Shitty thing about having been through life and death situations together is that everyone has bonded and become close like a family so when one of them is sad it’s like everyone is fucking sad.) (He loathes it because even he gets worried.)

“But despite that he still loves you.” He says softly, almost whispering like he’s telling the other a secret. “Fights his demons to hold your hand and all that shit”

Shinsou loves him? Loves him?

“How do you.. how do you know?” Denki whispers, throat sore. “We fought so badly last night, we were screaming at eachother.”

“He treats you the same way I treat Ei.” He answers,

“He changed his priorities around to try and accommodate for another person in his life, you became more important than training or studying. He takes days off to be with you, cuts his studying short if you need a break. It might not seem much to others but for him that’s huge. He came in with this one track mind but then you came along and he scrambled to balance everything. And then you two got your shit together and started to go out and I’m pretty sure he got scared”

“Scared?” Denki asks, the thought almost funny to him.

“I did.” Bakugou admits as Denki’s eyes grow wide.

“I was petrified. When Ei started to become more important than hero work, I freaked. It’s not that loverboy is choosing being a hero over you, It’s because he doesn’t understand that he can have both. He thinks everything important is a choice- that if you want something you have to give something up. He chooses hero work and he loses you. He chooses you and he loses hero work.”

“But he’s not going to lose me or hero work”

“Kinda sounded like you did give him an ultimatum though”

The realization hits him like cold water.

Shinsou gets a similar talk with Kirishima

It helps, a lot

They don’t immediately go back to eachother, instead spending the week with their everyone else and just taking time for themselves

Shinsou knocks on Denki’s door Sunday morning and they finally talk things out

It’s also the first time they say ily!!

Anyways after that fight they work harder on communicating especially when it comes to things like hero work

It’s not perfect bc their dumb traumatized teens but they’re trying and they know their lil family will always be there

I haven’t slept but yes thanks for sticking around if you’re reading this

If ur interested in shinsou’s talk with Kirishima lmk

#shinkami headcannons #shinkami #drabble #snippets #shinsou x kaminari #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou #denki kaminari #kaminari #my hero academia #kiribaku #Kirishima #bnha bakugou

160 notes · View notes