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emlos · 23 days
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autisticlancemcclain · 6 months
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fic rec friday 52
hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics. and a quick note before i start: happy one year, everyone! a year of fic rec fridays! i started doing these when my blog really started to take off, and it's been an honour to share these with you :)
A Kind Demon And A Scary Angel by vrepit-nah (anonymous)
Day 18 - Forbidden Love Shiro breaks his head trying to appease the angel and demon on his shoulders and stop them to killing the other. He soon finds out that he didn't need to after all.
making lance's troublemaking ass the demon. so real. poor shiro can never have a break in any universe 😭😭 he just wants to vibe and he just gets bothered by klance all the time
2. Of Friends and Rivals (And Lovers) by vrepit-nah (anonymous)
Lance McClain has a big family, and that means no one is really ever alone in a room at any point of time. It becomes unnatural for him to feel when he’s in space in a huge castle with barely any people. So, he tries to fill the hole in his heart by seeking out his teammates. It strikes Keith odd one day when Lance begins hanging out with him instead of his other friends, and worst of all, it seems like Lance is caving in on himself without anyone noticing. Or: 5 times Lance seeks out to hang out with a friend, and the one time he doesn’t.
the first time i read part v i gasped OUT LOUD bc i was like no way he's gonna fuck up that bad. no goddamn way. and then he DID and i HOLLERED
3. Today, anew by MemeKonVLD (MemeKonYA)
“Lance.” Lance’s eyebrows furrow in concern for a second before his whole face goes gentle and open. “Hey buddy, everything okay?” Keith nods. Then shakes his head, then opens his mouth to let out a noisy sob before he’s hugging the air out of Lance, grip vise tight. Lance hugs him back. That’s one of the great things about him— he doesn’t— he doesn’t need explanations for things like this. He doesn’t make Keith jump through hoops, the way other people might— he’s just— he just knows what Keith needs in times like this. No façades, no posturing. (Or: the one where Keith is trapped in a time loop. A time loop from hell.)
their worst nightmares are each other dying. i am going to lose my mind. i am sobbing and screaming and yelling on the floor. i am sucking on cement. nobody touch me
4. Visions by @snowwarning27
"It’s funny, because as a tattoo artist he makes art that lasts pretty much forever – as far as the person who has it is concerned – but a street artist…their art lasts maybe a couple of days." Keith comes in for a tattoo; Lance immediately falls in love. With his art. His love for Keith comes later.
it's usually tattoo artist keith but tattoo artist lance my LOVE. also i will never get over graffiti artist keith i think about him all the time the punk ass
5. story received, story included by @freshia
(4:20PM): u know, number neighbor, i think i need a chiropractor.  (4:23PM): ? (4:25PM): because my back really hurts (4:25PM): from carrying this conversation ;(
Lance texts his number neighbor.
i LOVE texting fics. they're so fun. and lance in a texting fic is always funny bc it's so obviously true that he would be so funny if he had time to think about it. and of course keith would fall for him over text
that’s it for today!! happy one year! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!
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leclsrc · 1 year
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prompt 35 with Charles????
everyone adores you – cl16
genre: fluff, drabble, 1k celebration
35: an awkward kiss given after a first date. title from this
Charles loves the story of your first date. He tells it often, over wine nights with the drivers or Secret Santa exchanges with friends. Over a glass of red or a fake Santa beard, he quells the room and goes: “Did I ever tell you guys the story of our first date?” And although everyone groans and lets out a bunch of affirmative answers, still he meets your eye from across the room, where you’re nursing white wine, or wearing an elf hat, and you smile, winking.
“Okay then!” He hollers, miming a shush motion. “No need to pressure me! I’ll tell it.”
And everyone groans again, a collective sigh, because Charles loves to pull out his best theatrics for your love story, and it means sitting through another living room one man play. Alex pretends to stand and get up, and Lily sloshes her wine or tugs her Santa hat off in her hurry to pull him beside her, because she loves the story so much. Max groans and slides onto the floor, spilling his vino or shedding his ugly fleece sweater.
You’re always silent when Charles insists on telling it because, although you fully understand the sarcastic disappointment, you also know that everyone loves the story deep down, loves your boyfriend’s goofy antics. And his storytelling aside, you’ll admit: your first date was the stuff of films.
Set up by Lewis (who continues to claim it was his worst mistake during gatherings like these), you’d met in London, where you were based for work at the time. Charles arranged the whole thing himself, with the pride of a six-year-old with a messy drawing, and looked up the best restaurants in the area. You met him outside the expensive-looking restaurant, and—
“—she goes, ‘I hope you’re paying for everything!’ and I go, ‘of course I will!’” Charles says energetically, the whole room watching him with amusement. He slides back and forth on your wooden floor, playing both you and himself, and then when it reaches that point of the story, the snooty French restaurant host: “He goes, ‘how may I help you, zir and madmwasel?’ and I go, ‘oh, I called you the other day—to reserve a table for two. Under Leclerc.’”
You looked expectantly at the host’s finger sliding through the seating chart, flipping a page, sliding through another, and then looking up with an unsmiling face. His expression said it all, and you were getting ready to leave when Charles began arguing, insisting he really did reserve a table, maybe you just can’t spell, I called your number, here it is.
“And the French host, he says, ‘zir, zis is not our number. Our number endz in 5-4-0, not 5-0-4.’” Charles pauses for dramatic effect even if everybody knows what happens next, holding his arms up. “You might be wondering, where did I reserve that table?”
“Nobody is wondering,” Pierre quips, wearing a Christmas tree sweater. Yuki swats him quiet, wearing the exact same one. 
“It was in a chicken shop down the street. So we ate there, she and I,” Charles says dramatically. “And I kept thinking, oh oh oh I’ve fucked it up, yes? No!” (A bit.) “We ate chicken and chips, and had soda, and I learned everything about her. We were probably expecting to eat steak and beef and drink wine”—he raises a glass—“but we made do. And I don’t regret it. But that’s not all!”
It isn’t. Your night had ended in front of your flat, still laughing over anecdotes shared in-between bites of chips and sips of Coke. Work awaited the both of you, so you made a flimsy excuse to go inside and thanked him for bringing you home. But you didn’t walk inside yet, like you were waiting for something.
“Something like a signature Charles kiss,” your boyfriend says proudly. “But nothing was good about the kiss. I leaned and she didn’t, and we were both stiff, and unprepared.” Everyone has a window to laugh despite themselves, because the way he describes you both is so unlike how you are now. It’s so unbelievable, it’s silly. And even you allow a laugh, hiding behind your giant glass of wine or pulling the elf hat over your shy eyes.
You’d kissed, stiff and cold, and pulled away fully aware of the stiffness and coldness of the kiss. You had smiled to try and play off the stiff cold kiss that still lingered, and then opened the door to your flat and shut it. In your head, you wondered if your chemistry seemed good in the chicken shop and then ultimately wilted when it came to everything else.
“So I stood there.” Charles says, sipping wine, hand on hip, like a middle-aged mom. “And I thought, no way am I going to let that beautiful girl go home without a proper kiss! So…”
You were still leaning against the door, not even toeing off your shoes, when it rattled thrice. You swung it open, and allowed him to kiss you then. This time it felt right somehow. Not stiff, not cold, not awkward. Turns out, you just needed to not think about it, and it became the most memorable first kiss you’d ever had.
He finishes the story, panting with the intensity of his acting. Scattered clapping meets the finale and you whoop, throwing your hat or a throw pillow to serve as a congratulatory rose. You’ve grown to realize that Charles’ stories of wins, victories, overlaps—they never go like this. He’s quieter, less excited. But for the story of your first date, he pulls out all the stops.
You wonder what comes next. Charles, though: he wonders if you’ve noticed the indent of the ring box in his jeans pocket, an introduction to a story for another day.
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collidescopeeyes · 1 month
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Time is a Roulette Wheel: Swain WIP Pt2
SFW
Not me spending like an hour in the weeds of the fandom wiki trying to reconstruct a timeline for Noxus. Apparently after Swain killed the previous Grand General and established the Trifarix council he pulled back most of the warhosts but maintained a bunch of coastal territories in Ionia and Shurima, which is roughly when I'm setting this, but also at some point in the future he decides on Ionian Invasion Pt: Back In The Saddle Again re: the awaken cinematic, which apparently isn't even necessarily canon?? Anyway I'm extrapolating a bunch of information about Noxus' current political climate from those two things
----
They give you a nice room in what you take to be a guest wing, and Garret departs again. There are guards outside your door, which you aren't sure if you're to take as a threat or a luxury. You aren't really in the mood for their oppressive hospitality, though, so as soon as the doors close you rewind yourself to the streets outside.
Your latest raven sights you almost immediately. There's lots of them outside the palace–you assume because that's where Swain is. You make it to the block outside the tower before you stop and turn to look at it, exasperated. “Come on then,” you wave it over. It flits down to the fence next to you, cocking it's head at you. “If you're going to be following me around anyway, I'd rather know where you are,” you say, offering it your arm.
It blinks, one eye at a time. “I'll tell you a secret? Something no-one else in Runeterra knows…” you coax. It caws softly. “Alright, you drive a hard bargain. Two.”
The raven steps onto your arm and caws. You grin. “Okay, let's see…hm. When I was six, I stole all of my friends glitter pens and blamed it on a boy who was mean to me. Then I felt bad, so I threatened him into writing an apology note and planted it and the pens back in her bag the next day.”
The raven caws harshly at you. You shrug. “I never said they were ground-breaking secrets.” Nevertheless, the bird settles on your shoulder when you lift your arm up to it, and you set out again.
You walk without any particular purpose, just exploring the City. You were somehow expecting it to be more depressing, but despite the grim and brutality architecture the people are lively and vibrant. It reminds you of Bilgewater, but with less outright crime, honestly. The market hawkers holler offers across the street, beside you a woman argues sharply with a weaver about the cost of a bolt of silk. A vastayan man on a street corner does an elaborate fire-breathing display, and his hat is piled with coin. Nobody apologizes when they knock into you in the busy streets, but not once does anyone try and lift your purse. You eventually find your way to the markets, where you permit yourself to buy a few books and a glass figurine that catches your eye. You usually prefer to travel light, but here's hoping that you'll be staying here for at least a while. You get skewers from a food stall that smells irresistible, and you feed chunks to the raven as you walk back. You suppose that they must be like normal ravens to some extent, because it accepts the food easily enough.
The raven departs with a soft caw as you make your way back to the tower, the sun setting in the distance. You rewind yourself back to your room and read until your dinner is brought.
If you were counting your entire stint in the Void as a single incident, meeting the Trifarix is the second most stressful thing that's ever happened to you. It's like a job interview, except you're pretty sure they're going to try and kill you if you don't get the job.
You're led into a cavernous throne room, with the Trifarix seated at a simple stone table at the foot of the empty throne. Swain sits in the center, Darius on his right, and to his left the Faceless in their many layered robe. You sit across from them, feeling distinctly like you should be wearing something nicer. Your guard escorts fall back, and Swain prompts you to recount your offer.
What follows next is the most exhaustive hour of negotiation you've ever been party to. The Faceless asks where you got your powers. You explain that you can't explain, and then go through all of the unpleasantness of proving it by hacking glass up on their table. Darius wants to know what exactly you have to offer Noxus, the limits of your powers, whether you can be sent to the front lines. You tell him you're immortal, and then when he laughs in your face, you say he can behead you and prove it if he's fine waiting a few hours for you to come back. He kind of pauses, then, and either the seriousness in your offer or the shard of mirror glass still sitting on the table seems to convince him, because he's a tad less rude after that.
Swain seems more concerned with the terms of your agreement than your worth to the empire–what your duties will be, for how long, how each party will assure the other that they're fufilling their end of the contract. He doesn't know off the top of his head how to get you home, but he suggests several promising avenues a team of mages and researchers could pursue. The Faceless suggests you work for them until they find a way to send you home, you point out that that motivates them to purposely delay or fail their research to keep you here. You suggest that you work for them for a year regardless of their findings; at the end they either send you home, or you fuck off elsewhere. Swain suggests a ten year term with updates. You point out that if you find out that they're trying to fuck you over, you’ll unmake this entire goddamn city around them. Swain points out, almost idly, that that would disproportionately affect the citizenry, and you don't really have a rebuttal for that, so you relent and amend that fine, you'll just kill all of them, but that's a much less dramatic threat. Darius laughs. The other two do not.
You settle on a three year term.
---
“Garret, be honest with me, are you reporting my every move back to the Trifarix?” You ask wearily, on your way out of the meeting.
Garret blinks. “Not specifically. Of course I'll be honest if asked, but to be frank, ma’am, they have better ways to keep tabs on you.”
You grimace, glancing up at the birds on the rooftops around you. “That's fair. Why were you assigned to me, then?”
“If the need arised, to kill you,” he says evenly.
You raise a brow at him. He doesn't look any more dangerous than your average Noxian, but there must be some reason he was the one assigned to take you out. He looked Ionian–maybe some form of magic that would take you off guard. “Unlucky.”
“So I hear,” he says dryly. He stops in front of your new residence, a two story in a nice looking part of the city, or as nice as Noxus' imperious architecture gets. “This will be your new residence. Someone should have already been by to drop off your citizenship documents. Welcome to Noxus, ma’am.”
“You won't be escorting me anymore, I take it?” You extrapolate. He shakes his head. “Can I ask you a personal question, then?”
He blinks. “Not standing out here in the street, no. You may invite me in for tea, however.” He fishes a set of keys out of his pocket and hands it to you.
You crack a smile, open the door, and then turn to stand inside it. “Could I invite you in for tea, Colonel I don't know your first name Garrett?” You say with your best approximation of an Ionian bow.
“You may, Madam Iso I don't know your last name,” he responds in kind. There's the edge of a smile on his lips, which is as expressive as you've ever seen him.
“I don't actually know if I have tea,” you say as you close the door behind you. “I didn't bring any.”
“I don't drink tea,” he says plainly. He goes to sit at your new couch, politely folding his hands in his lap. “You may ask your question.”
You sit across from him, bemused. “Are all Noxians this abrupt?”
He inclines his head at you, akin to a bird. “We value our time. Was that your question?”
You laugh. “No. I wanted to ask, and you can feel free to tell me to fuck off if it's too personal, but…you're Ionian, right? Why are you here, in Noxus?”
He pauses for a moment. “That is very personal, yes. May I ask why you want to know?”
You pause a moment, mulling over your words. “Because…look, you know what I did in Shuriman. I work for Noxus now, and honestly there isn't a hell of a lot I wouldn't do to get home, but…all the same, I want to know what I'm getting into. What I've done to those people.”
He sighs. “It was…different, for me. My village was poor, and we had little to resist with when Noxus came almost a decade ago, under Darkwill’s rule. It was brutal, and I lost people I cared for in a hopeless attempt at resistance. The army raided our temple for relics, and we were told to bend the knee or die. I bent.” He spreads his hands to indicate to his practical Noxian garb. “I thought our lives would be as senseless and cruel as the army was. For a time it was. Then Grand General Swain deposed Darkwill, and things changed. The world opened to us. My sister pursued an education in history, my son an apprenticeship in smithing. We were recognized for the worth of our craft rather than the blood in our veins. I miss my wife, yes, and my son his mother, but we are fed and content.”
You look down. “Does that make it worth it?”
His lips thin slightly. “The spring does not justify the winter. They are merely things that happen, and we weather them.” You sit in silence for a moment, before he offers “Grand General Swain is just, as far as I have seen. He has inherited his predecessors' wars, but there is a purpose there where Darkwill only had tyranny and madness. He is not war-like by nature, I believe, but securing Noxus' future relies on stabilizing the borders of our acquired territories.”
“So that makes the brutal expansionism justified?” You ask dryly.
He shrugs. “Justification is the tool of a dishonest conscience. I know who I am and what is valuable to me, and I know what I must do to have it. So do you. That is why you are Noxian now. The citizens of Bitharix will have a choice to make, whether they value their lives or their ideals, and then they will either be dead or they will be the same as any other Noxian. I can tell you that the Trifarix cares for the wellbeing of Noxus. I cannot tell you if Noxus' wellbeing is more valuable than that of Shurima’s, but here is where I live, here is where I thrive, and so here is where I will serve. Whether the same can be said of you is your own decision to make.” With that, he rises to his feet and offers you a bow. “I will be going now.”
You nod. “Thank you, for your assistance, and for your advice.”
He nods. “Whatever path you choose to walk, I hope that you walk it with surety.” And then he turns and leaves.
You sit in silence in your new Noxian house for a few minutes. Then you abruptly decide this situation calls for ice cream and hop to your feet.
“Birdie, do you know if this place has ice cream?” You ask the raven that flies down to the fence next to you. It caws harshly, and you get the sense it's offended. “Oh, come on. I'll tell you a real secret this time if you bring me somewhere nice,” you offer enticingly. It caws again, this time somewhat uncertain. “C'mon, it's riiight on the tip of my tongue, can't you just taste it?” you taunt.
The raven stares at you so intensely you think it might actually be able to, and then hops onto your shoulder and caws in the direction of the markets. You beam and set off.
“God, I really needed this,” you tell the bird appreciatively as you devour your chocolate chip cone. “I know you're a demonic entity whose reporting my every move to Swain, since I'm under contract now, here's a secret for free: that man stresses me the fuck out.” The bird caws in what you take to be agreement. “I know, right? It's the resting bitch face, I think. It makes me feel like I've forgotten my homework or something.” You shudder.
As you finish your cone, the bird caws at you impatiently. “Alright, you did good, I guess you earned it,” you relent with a sigh. It hops onto your knee and peers up at you intently. The words rise to your tongue unbidden. “The thing that took me had a name, but I haven't been able to remember what it is since I killed it. I try, and it's just…white noise, like blood in my ears. I don't even know why I knew it's name, it's not like it ever told me,” you say forlornly. Then you blink. “Wait. I shouldn't have been able to say that. How did you–”
The raven crows triumphantly, and then pain beyond anything your curse has ever given you rips through you.
You wake up on a plush couch. You sit up groggily, only to realize you have no idea where you are.
“You weren't lying about your immortality, it seems,” Swain observes mildly. He's at a large desk, writing something. You're in his office, it seems.
You rub your throat. “What happened?”
“Raum suppressed your curse long enough to draw out a secret, and you paid the price for speaking where you shouldn't.” Swain says. He signs the page at the bottom, puts his quill in his inkwell, and then steeples his hands and looks at you. His expression is neutral, but there's an intent glint in his eye you aren't sure what to make of. “You were found with about a dozen shards of glass protruding from your throat. You have been dead for…” he glances at his desk clock. “Approximately one hour and twelve minutes.”
You blink. “That was quick. Usually takes longer here.” You look down at the couch you're on, which is covered in what is most likely your blood. You rewind it clean with a grimace. “Why bring me here?”
“For one, to verify your claims of purported immortality. For another, we need to discuss your duties. I had intended to give you some time to settle in, but given the circumstances it seems best to be expeditious. Do you need anything, before we continue?”
You frown. Your mouth tastes like blood. “Water would be good.”
He produces a pitcher and some glasses from a side table hidden from your view by one of his enormous stacks of paper, and gestures for you to sit across as he pours. “What do you know of Raum?”
You settle yourself across from him and drink. It tastes faintly of lemon. “Demon who eats secrets. I know generally what you can do with his powers, but I don't have the specifics of how you control them.”
He nods. “I see. Suffice to say, Raum becomes more difficult to control if I overuse his power, or if he's…overfed, shall we say.” He gives you a pointed look. You wince. “I purposefully let him loose to see if you could contain him unassisted. Not only did you accomplish that, but your intervention significantly weakened his bids for control. As such, part of your duties for your time with Noxus will be assisting me with Raum’s ongoing containment, starting now.”
You blink. “Now?”
“Now,” he repeats, unimpressed. “May I remind you that you fed him a secret capable of leveling a kingdom so that you could find the best ice cream parlor in Noxus, and now I am paying the price.” His voice is so dry it rivals the Shuriman dunes.
You wince slightly. “Yeah, that's fair. Give me your hand.”
He blinks. You hold your hand out towards him and wiggle your fingers expectantly. His lips thin slightly, but he complies. The leather of his gloves is warm, and you can feel the shape of his past beneath it, but… “Something's not right,” you mutter, opening your eyes. “Other hand.”
“Pardon?” He says.
You furrow your brows. “Give me your other hand.”
“This wasn't necessary last time,” he points out warily.
“Last time, I was being actively fried with demonic energy, which gave me a physical connection to Raum’s timeline,” you point out. “Now, I'm pretty sure there was a term in my contract that says you're not allowed to eldritch blast me just because you really want to, so I suppose you're just going to have to give me your hand.”
He lifts his hand from where it lies hidden under his coat, and if it were a word you thought could be physically applied to Swain, you'd say he seemed hesitant. Alas, it's not, so you go with wary instead. It casts a soft red glow across your skin, and when he finally places his palm in yours, it has the oddest sensation of electricity–a current that's just strong enough to hum under your skin, but not to hurt. Other than that, it feels like a normal hand, though admittedly one with long curling claws and feathers at the elbow.
“Satisfied?” He asks dryly.
“Yes,” you agree easily. You shut your eyes and begin to work–it’s strangely difficult, like every inch you wind Raum back he tries to regain. “This will take some time. He's not happy about it.”
“Hm.” He hums in response. “Tell me something. Why Bitharix?”
You blink at him. “It was in an important strategic location to connect trade from the coastal cities, and a sustained seige would cost too many resources, leave your forces too exposed for too long. Plus, I figured altering the geography of an entire city would be the fastest way of getting my point across.”
“Why not Port Alkaline?” He counters. “It was closer to Tereshni. It's an important coastal stronghold with strong walls.”
You furrow your brows. “I figured you were planning to blow their wall up and then just build it back. It's not nearly as thick, and you had more stone shipped in than you'd need for the those big ominous arches you like to build.”
“And do you know why we build the arches?” He pushes.
You frown. “It’s an ever present reminder of Noxus' presence, and their resources, as well as a defensible structure? Why are you…” you pause, narrowing your eyes at him. “Are you quizzing me?”
“Hm,” he hums noncommittally. “You mentioned you could restore the walls, and the Bitharix ravine.”
You nod. “Sooner would be better. Longer something is the way it is, the more it wants to stick. Won't take me long, though, I can go back to anywhere I've been before without much effort. Same goes for Alkaline, if you do end up blowing their wall.” You pause, listening. “...can you hear that whispering?” You ask.
“Constantly,” he agrees. “Best to ignore it.”
You frown. “Can you tell him to shut the fuck up?”
“I truly wish so, but no,” he sighs.
You open your eyes and squint down at his feathered hand. “Hm. Maybe if I…” and here, you slow the rhythm of Raum’s existence to a crawl, until there's quiet in your mind. Swain looks at you in what might be surprise, but doesn't comment. You sit in blessed silence for the few more minutes it takes to claw Raum back to what feels like a reasonable equilibrium. “Hm. Is that better?”
He removes his hand from yours, flexes it experimentally, then nods. “Yes. You're dismissed. I’ll send for you when I have need,” he returns to his work.
You stand, apparently dismissed.
“Oh, and Iso?” He calls as you turn to leave. “If you have any more pressing questions about local cuisine, please refrain from making bargains with my birds.”
You consider him. “...in that case, do you know where I can find a good seafood mornay? I've got a craving for fish.”
He gives you an unimpressed look. You're fully expecting to be ignored, but apparently he decides answering you is the fastest way to get you out of his office. “Sailmaker’s Bounty, on the east side. Now begone.”
“Thanks, boss!” You chirp with a grin before you close the door.
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harrison-abbott · 3 months
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The McKennas
The McKenna home was much larger than the others around the area. And nobody quite knew who they were. Mr McKenna was a dogwalker and he would give a false smile and hello if you met him strolling down the paths. But he never stopped to say Hello. His wife had corkscrew hair and she very quickly learned the neighbours not to greet her, because she wouldn’t respond. Nobody knew what they did for a living; but they were obviously wealthy: just look at their house.
There was a security gate in front of their porch, and the garden was walled off. Their dog seldom barked. Mr and Mrs McKenna must’ve been in their fifties, with their grey hair – and so, did they have kids? If so, the children must be grown up, students, maybe. None ever saw any young people visiting the house. In fact, there were no visitors at all.
Occasionally around the neighbourhood there would be social events in the little park at the end of the street. These had been going on for years – little snack gatherings on a Sunday – before the McKenna’s arrived. And so the organiser, who was called Mrs Hays, thought she might send an invitation along to the McKennas, to see if they wanted to come. She lived by the woody area, and also had a dog. And thus one day she walked along the pathway en route to the McKenna home. And, by chance, she actually saw Mr McKenna himself coming towards her, with his tame labrador.
“Oh, Hi there,” Mrs Hays said to him. He nodded to her. Then she took out her invitation letter. “I was just popping over to your place, actually. I wanted to give you this.”
Mr McKenna’s face changed and there was a flash of suspicion when he saw the paper. But then his expression changed again and he took it.
“It’s a little gathering we have down the street, by the by on a Sunday. Just an informal thing,” Mrs Hays continued, “you and your wife should come, if you like?”
“Ah. Many thanks for the gesture. That would be … Sunday the 21st. Let’s see. Oh. My wife and I won’t be in the city on that date. We have a trip up north on that weekend. But, it’s very kind of you to give me the offer anyway. Thank you. I better be getting on now. Be well.”
He moved on past her. She said that was okay and he kept walking.
The next time Hays saw him on the path, a few weeks later, he kept his head floorward and didn’t give a greeting. And the same time after that. Had she offended him? She didn’t know.
That invitation thing happened in the spring. And summer came and it was record-breaking hot. And autumn nuzzled by and then in the winter it was record-breaking cold. Mrs Hays had to brace the cold because she could only walk her dog very early in the morning, as she had to go to work around seven o clock. So it was still pitch dark when she walked her dog along the path. With her breath, and her dog’s, puffing clouds in the frosty air.
And there was one morning when she rounded the bend, which looked on to the shape of the McKenna house in the distance. As she neared, she thought she heard something. And her dog heard it too, because her ears switched up at an erect angle.
Mrs Hays slowed her pace, but kept going. Then she heard the noise again … which came from the McKenna’s garden. The noise sharpened.
It was a man, shouting. Not words. He was yelling, as if in pain.
The fur on her dog’s back rose.
There it was again! This rash hollering, as if a man had hurt himself. And yet, it was not close enough to be inside the garden – sounded like it was inside the building. But Hays couldn’t see over the walls and so couldn’t locate it. No lights were on inside the McKenna house. Hays looked at her phone: it was 05:46. She paused and listened. And waited. Wondering what to do. But nothing ever came. There only resumed the winter silence.
She didn’t want to be here anymore, and so she whistled for her dog and retreated back the way she had come.
The incident was strange but for some reason she never told anybody about it. Because of its dreamy nature. Perhaps she had half imagined it. She was in the total dark and the sounds were scary but perhaps there was only a simple explanation.
So that was in December and then the spring came again the next year. Mrs Hays still walked by the McKenna house. But, do you know? – she hadn’t seen Mr McKenna since that shouting incident. Not once, in three months or so. She had seen the corkscrew hair wife a handful of times. But not him. And no labrador either. Hmm. This prickled her imagination, too. And she thought perhaps she should have told people about that weird night back in the winter …
Spring passed and there was the summer. And it wasn’t so hot this time.
Mrs Hays was coming home from work on the bus. And she noticed, at length, a darkness in the sky above her neighbourhood. Because the bus came down from a hilly part in the city and she could see towards her district. Smoke. Dark grey and brown smoke from her area. Jesus, what was it?
And then a fire engine hurtled past the bus she was on, with screaming sirens and flashing lights.
She got off at her normal bus stop. Which was a ten minute walk from her house. And there were a gabble of people speaking in a crowd at the end of the street. One of them was one of Hays’ neighbours; they recognised each other and Hays went up to her.
“My God,” she said, “has something happened?”
“There’s been a fire,” was her neighbour’s response.
“Oh, my. Where?”
“At the McKenna house. There’s been a big fire there since the morning. The police are there with the fire brigade. We don’t know anything else.”
With the smell of smoke in the air there was indeed the notion of disaster.
The fire brigade battled with the inferno for quite some time. And the story was in the news. And in the following week the story made the national news, because there was more to add to it than ‘a fire’.
Mrs McKenna had died in the fire. From what the experts could tell, the fire hadn’t been accidental. It was arson. Looked like she had set it herself and let herself be burned to death.
The authorities searched the rest of the household. Not all of the building was damaged. The fire had caused Hellish destruction but there were parts that the flames hadn’t gotten to.
Including the cellar. The cellar was filled with cardboard boxes, filled with a whole range of detritus that was hard to make sense of. But what the police did notice was an awful smell. And in one of the boxes they found a dead Labrador … clearly it had been dead for months. But as they went further into the cellar they had to retreat and put masks on because the stench was so bad.
They cleared the mass of boxes away and discovered a long bulky shape wrapped in what looked like tarpaulin. It had rope tied around it. And it appeared muddy or greasy.
When they cut the plastic open they found the remains of Mr David McKenna, who, the scientists would later determine, had died the previous year due to blunt trauma wounds to his skull, at the age of 59.
His wife had been using his bank account ever since then. And nobody had raised concerns about his disappearance, because he had no kids, and had retired early, due to his exquisite wealth.
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memestockpile · 9 months
Text
the ghost and mr. chicken (1966) feel free to change as needed.
he was walking along the street, when bang! right on the head!
for heaven’s sake, stand back.
whatever you do, keep your head.
i don’t want to stay here by myself!
a terrible thing happened! i got the pictures and everything!
cool it, sport.
will somebody listen to me?
calm? calm? do “murder” and “calm” go together? 
what are you trying to do, make a fool out of me?
nice work, scoop.
wonder who done him in? i can’t wait to read the morning paper and find out.
why don’t you run up an alley and holler “fish”?
what are you doing here? you’re dead!
we shouldn’t laugh. we really shouldn’t. 
a person is never dead until their pulse is stopped, [name].
lay off, will you?
i don’t blame you one iota.
i wouldn’t go near there for $200.
it’s a murder house.
why don’t you come in for some coffee?
she’s an awful sweet girl. 
yeah, she’s a good kid. 
i just love the sun, don’t you?
good morning, sugar.
boy, you look like a million bucks.
you know, of all your sweaters, i love this one the most.
we had a seance at the house last night, and it ran on until all hours. 
don’t tell me you believe in that sort of thing. 
you try and you try and you try, and what do you get? heartaches!
you had a good murder story going there. only trouble was, nobody got killed.
mr. boob. that’s me. b-double-o-b... boob!
stabbed her right in the throat. they never did find out what with. 
i just don’t happen to believe in ghosts... particularly. 
‘cause you got spunk. 
there’s a very active spirit life in that old house. 
what was that? i’m afraid i wasn’t following the conversation. 
the supernatural doesn’t bother you?
i’ll get us a booth and order for you. what would you like?
did you happen to see yesterday’s paper?
gee, that’s an exciting idea.
you know, even though most people say they don’t believe in ghosts, it takes an awful lot of nerve to spend the night in that spooky old place. 
hi, honey. sorry i couldn’t have lunch with you.
put that on my tab.
they say there are still bloodstains. 
i’m just putting your adrenaline in shape, kid. 
don’t get so excited, fella. 
you’re scared and you know it. 
for your information, i work single. just me, myself, and i.
okay, ace. 
holy toledo!
it was terrible! just terrible!
i’ll never get over it as long as i live!
they’re selling like hotcakes. 
no one’s allowed on this property. 
it’s obvious you don’t understand. 
you don’t seem to realize the cosmic importance of this. 
no wonder you have a nervous stomach. 
can i have your autograph?
i just love good food. 
you know, you and i are a lot alike. 
atta boy, [name].
loved your speech. 
i’m gonna tear you to shreds. 
a little pipsqueak like you?
you better save your breath. you’re gonna need it. 
that was just about the best steak i ever ate. 
i didn’t know you knew karate.
my whole body’s a weapon.
[name], do you think i’m crazy?
the whole town is behind you.
[name]’s opinion isn’t worth a hill of beans. 
you’re a darn attractive girl. 
are you trying to say that you like me?
this place is really buzzing. 
now, you just quiet down. 
i only wanted her to like me. 
relax, son. 
you certainly have a flair for turning a colorful phrase. 
mmm, bravo. 
i’m asking you a question.
can’t you curb your imagination for one minute?
i believe in you. i believe in what you stand for. 
that’s akin to love. 
you’re coming in with me, aren’t you?
where do you think you’re going?
if you’ve seen one picture of a woman with shears stuck in her throat, you’ve seen ‘em all.
it’s almost midnight. 
run along home. 
please, just leave me alone. 
won’t do you a bit of good, [name].
you killed them both, didn’t you?
well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.
dead as a doornail. 
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shadeedee · 7 months
Text
LOVE & WAR - Producers fic
Roger Debris was sitting at the table, absolutely fuming. The reason? A drag queen was flirting with Carmen Ghia right in front of him. Carmen was doing his best to reject her advances, but she kept going. “Look, i’m married to Roger. I’m sorry, but i’m not interested,” Carmen said. The drag queen, named Ruby La Roux, batted her eyelids. “Awww honey. Come on. You wouldn’t settle for a guy like that, would ya? He’s too plain,” she replied. Roger clenched his fists. Finally he couldn’t take anymore and marched over to them. “Get your paws off my partner,” he demanded. Ruby shot him a cheeky smirk. “Ooh, it’s mister Roger Debris himself. I’ve heard about you. You’re not as good as you think you are. But look at me. Look at these gorgeous eyes, this body, this hair. And who can forget this ass. I’m sure Carmen would love to get in my bed,” she gushed. Roger had truly lost it, now. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” he shouted, and lunged at her. Carmen’s eyes widened. The production team hollered and cheered. “Get her Rogey! Kill her!” Kevin called. “Use your nails, Roger!” Scott added. Carmen watched in horror as the two brawled. Over him. It was unreal. Ruby kicked Roger in the face with her high top boots, then Roger speared her into a nearby table. “Stop it! Enough! Stop!” Carmen pleaded. They both got up, panting. Roger held Carmen close to him. “You’re not taking him away from me. I won’t let you. Take any man in the world, but not my Carmen Ghia!” Roger begged, and began weeping. Ruby simply laughed. “I gotta run honey, but i’ll be back. Count on that. Next time i’ll be kicking your ass right here all the way to the other side of this city!” she replied, and danced her way outside. “Bye bye, Carmen darling,” she added, doing a little jump as she left, and made sure Roger saw it, too. Roger’s face was red with anger. Everyone was silent. A man nearby was also angry, looking at the fallen over tables and chairs. “You guys gonna clean this up, or what?” he asked. Later, Roger was at his townhouse still furious over the incident. Carmen felt awful about it. Two guys were fighting over him and he was stuck in the middle. But he knew which one he wanted to be with and that was Roger. He loved him with all his heart. He went over and kissed him. “Nobody will ever come between us. I promise you,” he said. Roger held onto Carmen, tightly. “I don’t want to lose you,” he replied. Carmen smiled. “You’ll never lose me. Ever,” he said. The production team smiled at each other.
At her lavish home, Ruby La Roux couldn’t stop thinking about Carmen. “Mmmm such a dream. Such a cutie,” she gushed, and kissed a photo of him she had secretly taken while his back was turned. But something was standing in her way. Roger Debris. He was a threat, and he had to be taken care of. She had to come up with a plan. Thankfully, she knew some people she could call, and took out her phone book. “Hello? Yeah it’s me. Listen, i need you to do something for me,” she said, and smiled an evil smile. That night, a white van parked outside the Debris house. Three masked men got out and headed for the front door. The production team were snoring, sleeping soundly. Suddenly there was a loud smash and the men came through the window, grabbing hold of Roger. He was terrified. “Oh my god! What the hell is going on!? he screamed, and he was dragged outside and pushed into the van. “Roger!” Carmen cried, and tried to rescue him but was too late. He watched as the van sped off into the night. “Oh my god! Our poor Roger! Bring him back you scoundrels!” Kevin cried, and the team huddled together, weeping. Roger was taken somewhere to a street he had never been before, duct taped and tied up in the back seat of the van. Ruby was waiting outside the house, smirking. Roger’s eyes widened. The men removed the tape from his mouth and pushed him out of the van. “What’s going on!? Where am i!?” he cried. “Shhh, hush hush. Let’s not get the neighbours involved,” Ruby whispered, giggling. Roger was forced inside onto a sofa. Ruby sat on a nearby chair, baring her high top boots and a pair of purple tights underneath a glittery miniskirt. “Good job boys. I’ll pay you extra for the double knot you tied on his wrists,” she said, flirtatiously. The men smiled and left. Ruby smirked and looked straight at Roger. “I think you know why you’re here. I have a problem with you. A big one. It’s obvious you’re going to do everything in your power to keep me from pursuing Carmen Ghia, so i’m going to have to get serious with you. When i want something, i get it. And i want Carmen. Consider this a warning. Stay away from him. He’s mine,” Ruby said. Roger couldn’t believe it. “You’re mad! Carmen and i are partners! He isn’t even in love with you! He’s never even heard of you!” he cried. “Oh don’t be ridiculous. Everyone knows the glamorous Ruby La Roux. And soon Carmen will too. He’ll be married to me instead of being your itty bitty boyfriend,” she said, giggling. “Correction, he is my husband!” Roger shouted. “Whatever. The point is he will soon be married to me. I’ve heard all about you, Roger Debris. You’re not as good as they say you are. Not as good as me, anyway. You’re in my territory, now. And this is my playing field. If you’re not going to play fair with me, then i’ll just have to get rid of you myself,” Ruby replied. Roger sat there, in shock. When Carmen heard the news, he was horrified. “She’s insane, Carmen. Absolutely insane! She could have killed me if she wanted to i really thought she would. I was terrified!” Roger said. “I don’t know why she’s so obsessed with me. It’s time for payback,” Carmen replied. “Hmm, so in a way we’re getting revenge? I love it, darling!” Roger gushed. Carmen smiled. “Ruby La Roux is about to get a taste of her own medicine,” he said, and they both laughed, flamboyantly.
The next morning, Ruby La Roux awoke to find her entire house covered with glitter and super glue everywhere. She screamed in horror. Roger and Carmen popped out of the bushes, laughing. “Heard you like glitter Miss La Roux, so enjoy some pretty little sparkles!” Roger called, and they both laughed again. “You jerks! You absolute jerks! How dare you make a fool of me! I’ll get you for this!” Ruby shouted. “Ooh not so fast! The police are here!” Roger gushed, and pointed to a police car. Ruby was handcuffed and taken away for kidnapping and threatening to kill someone. They watched as she was taken away, and both laughed flamboyantly.
0 notes
selinafae · 2 years
Text
After you left my life became an indie movie
I spent two months in a drunken haze, not sure which city I’d wake up in/My life packed into cardboard boxes/Yours, untouched/I cried on the floor, moved out west, bought a pink Mustang and a shitbox apartment in Chinatown/I hung a shower curtain I knew you’d hate/I ordered all the food you used to pick out for me at a restaurant/I cooked everything you used to make me at home and danced to Taylor Swift and screamed about how selfish you were/I went to concerts and hung out with the band afterwards/I wore red lipstick and texted you at 2AM/I got a new job where nobody knew your name/I swore nobody would ever know your name and then I changed mine/I bought a blender and started making smoothies every morning and I still haven’t spoken your name/The months after you walked out of my life are an indie movie that never won any awards/They had to cut all those crying shower scenes because the run time is too long/My indie movie life is all men hollering out of car windows and deleted tinder accounts/I have 6 months of quirky cut scenes of buckling high heels and laughing under neon bulbs and searching crowded streets for your face/Your life/Is a sitcom that should’ve been cancelled after that one character left/That one character is me/It’s okay though, you couldn’t give me what I wanted/Do you remember what I said once baby/I don’t want no small time TV/I want to be a movie star
0 notes
immortalbumblebee · 2 years
Note
There is this one thought that's always on my mind 24/7 and I was wondering if it's possible if you can write about Powder and Mylo getting along because all I ever see is angst surrounding me, and I just want them to be happy even if it's only for a little bit..T-T
OMG YES! The saddest thing I've seen is the fact that, if everyone had made it out and all of Vander's youngin's made it to adulthood, Powder and Mylo could have maybe made amends and the thought just KILLS ME. So here, enjoy this fluffy little story.
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Crying Over Spilt Milk
The whole situation started with nobody else being home that evening. Vander was out checking on a situation with the Enforcers, and Vi and Claggor had gone out on a job, with Powder having been sent to the market to collect some groceries. But Mylo?
Mylo was stuck at home. Grounded.
It was a long story involving a graffiti incident with a couple other kids in the Lanes, and Mylo having actually been lucky enough to land a punch on the Enforcer that caught them. Only to then have to be escorted from the station by Vander, long lecture about respect ensuing. But now he was stuck at home, alone, forced to do dishes and clean as his punishment. So unfair!
Then Powder strolled in. Her cheeks were stained with tears as she carried the groceries in her arms and not the bag she had been sent with, which struck Mylo as odd. Her hiccuped sobs filled the space as she stumbled through the door and took heavy, laboured steps down the stairs towards the kitchenette. But Mylo paid her no mind. After all, comforting her was Vi or Vander's job, not his. So he kept his head down, only sending her small, hidden sideways glances.
Only to make sure she was putting the food away correctly, it wasn't like he was worried or anything.
But then she dropped a bottle of milk. Thankfully it wasn't a hard enough fall to break the glass, it just made a loud noise as it clattered onto the stone. But it was enough for the small girl to stop for just a moment, and then proceed to let out an ear-piercing wail as she crumpled], face shoved into the floor as she hollered and cried her little blue eyes out.
"Oh my gods, what the hell is your problem?" Mylo finally snapped, spinning around to stare wide-eyed at the little girl.
"I-" She spoke between loud sobs, "I dropped it!"
"Yeah no shit, Sherlock!" He continued to yell, with little regard for his bad language around the barely-6-year-old. "That's what happens when you use your puny little arms instead of a bag! Didn't Vi send you with one?"
Another huge wave of wailing, so loud that Mylo was starting to worry people outside on the street would hear. Beginning to panic, Mylo quickly walked over to the fallen bottle and picked it up, placing it on the counter (and having to step over his adopted sister to do so). "Geez, there! All better! Now can you please shut up before someone thinks I'm murdering you or something?"
But Powder continued as if she hadn't heard anything. "They-they broke the bag!"
This, admittedly, caught Mylo off guard. "Uh-what?"
"They broke the bag!" She repeated, stronger this time. "When they smashed Cecilia and Pickles, they took the bag and ripped it! So I had to use my arms to carry everything all the way back, and I couldn't even save them!"
"..and Cecilia and Pickles are..?"
"My bombs!"
Mylo actually had to take a step back from Powder, her screaming directly at him with a line of snot dripping thickly from her nose. "Geez, right, okay. Uhhh...who did this exactly?"
Powder sniffled. "I-I don't know...they didn't look familiar. Big kids, I guess, around the market."
"And they just, what? Came up and broke your shit?"
"Yeah! I-I guess!" She sniffled again, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "I didn't do anything, I promise!"
Most of the times that she said that phrase, like after a mission she'd botched for them, Mylo would have rolled his eyes and scoffed in her face. But this time? Seeing her all torn up and melting down on the floor over all of this? A pang of sympathy actually hit his heart. He knew kids could be mean to skinny lil tykes like her, hell he was a perfect example of that. But it was different when it was him as opposed to someone else who she didn't know.
Slowly, the young boy lowered himself onto the ground beside her, leaning against the counter as he thought of what to say.
"Are...you okay?" He asked, and cringed at himself at how awkwardly it came out. "Like, did they hurt you at all?"
Her bottom lip quivered as Powder shook her head 'no'.
"Good, that's...something at least." He nodded. Then, after a long moment of relative silence, Mylo extended his hand and gently patted Powder's shoulder. She didn't lean into the touch, but she also didn't shy away from it, just turning to stare at Mylo with an inquisitive look. "I-" Mylo cleared his throat, "I'll kick your ass if you tell anyone I said this, but...I'm sorry that that happened to you. People are dicks, and you didn't deserve that. And...if you need me to walk you to the market a couple times after this, like, if you don't feel safe by yourself or whatever...just lemme know, k?"
To Mylo's surprise, Powder's response was to slowly lean her body into his, curling herself to lay her head onto his shoulder. It wasn't comfortable, but it brought her a semblance of peace.
"Thanks, Mylo." She whispered into his shirt, the leftover tracks of old tears soaking into the fabric. But he didn't push her away, instead wrapping an arm to lay his hand awkwardly on the top of her blue-covered head.
"Don't mention it, brat."
58 notes · View notes
lovetorn · 3 years
Text
in chains for you [dream]
Dream x Fem!Reader Criminals!AU
Summary: The Dream Team is an underground crime group that works for Techno Industries. But what happens when one of their most valuable members is taken for ransom by their enemy, Schlatt?
Warnings: Swearing & mean insults :(, kidnapping, death, violence, uhhh nothing else? message me if you see anything else!
Word Count: 8.1k+
A/N: I’m so sorry for any mistakes/plot holes, my adhd said no❤️ when i was editing :(
Note: Please remember these are all characters! Since I do not know any of these people in real life, I have created all aspects of their lives, personalities etc. and apologise for any OOC moments. I portrayed Schlatt as the villain purely from his role play in the Dream SMP, obviously, I do not believe him to be like this irl in any way. He is also written as much older than the Dream Team to enhance the villain-like characteristics. Remember, this is just fiction! Thanks! 
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Night had fallen over California, and the icy breeze from the South blew through the city of Beverly Hills. The lights from several luxury hotels and displays lit up the streets and exposed the city. It was more alive than half the people that resided there. Here, people only cared about their money and their assets; barely any room left for emotions towards others that didn’t benefit them. 
“Hurry the fuck up, Sapnap!” 
The gravelly sound of Dream shouting prompted Y/n to run faster. Tensions were high as three criminals rushed to the dark SUV that sat running outside of the tall building. They clutched black duffle bags in both hands when the sound of familiar sirens cried a few blocks away. 
Unlocking the car, George threw open the back car door and launched his duffle bags onto the car seats before hopping in. Dream rounded the car and opened the door to the driver’s seat, Y/n doing the same for the passenger’s side. And whilst they were shoving the bags in, Sapnap came running out of the building, another duffle bag in his hand and a briefcase in the other. The ends of his white bandana flew around in the wind behind him as he missed a dip in the floor.
“What the fuck has he got now? We’ve gotta go!” George exclaimed, hurrying the boy by waving his hand. Dream put the car in drive as Sapnap slammed the door, “Go, go, go!”
The car squealed while Dream pulled off of the curb, the wheels screeching against the tar as he pressed his foot heavily on the accelerator. 40, 50, 70, 100, 130mph. The speedometer jumped by 10s and then by 40s as the car barrelled down the long strip of road, the wailings of sirens fading behind them. 
George, Y/n and Sapnap were laughing as they took their masks off. The sound pissed Dream off as he gripped the steering wheel harder; why is nobody taking this seriously? 
Ripping his white mask off his face and throwing it into his lap, Dream looked at Sapnap through the rearview mirror, “Why did you take so long? That could’ve fucked our whole plan!” 
“Jeez, chill out.”
Dream shot him a glare through the mirror as Sapnap put his hand up, “Schlatt said he had a briefcase full of Chick-Fil-A gift cards, so I grabbed the first one I saw.” 
George lolled his head to the side, mouth agape as he stared at him in disbelief. “Are you shitting me?” 
Sapnap shook his head, resting the case on his thighs and popping open the clasps. 
“Fuck yeah!” He cheered, turning the case around to show the rest of the car the bundles of hundreds of red and white cards that laid on a sheet of red velvet. Sapnap’s eyes remained as wide as saucers the entire time he tilted the case at different angles to ensure everybody saw. 
Y/n turned around in her seat to face the boys in the back and giggled. 
“Can I have one?” She asked, holding her hands up in a praying gesture. Sapnap laughed and nodded, “I’ve got enough for a whole country! And anything for you, Y/n.” Y/n smiled at him, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ before turning back around to face the road that was gone as quick as it came. 
The deep sigh that came from Dream in the driver’s seat caught the attention of everybody in the car. Sapnap rolled his eyes and shut the case. “Calm down, green boy. She’s all yours.” 
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Arriving at the motel George had found, the four lugged the black duffle bags in the small room. Locking the room door, Dream spun around to see everybody sitting on one of the single beds. 
He eyed the black duffle bags in the corner with a frown, each one full to the brim with thousands of 100 dollar bills that they had to transfer back to base. George cleared his throat when he saw his friend looking at the bags and raised his eyebrows, “Dream?” The man turned at the sound of his name and nodded once. He had an odd feeling in his stomach but decided to ignore it and face the problem at hand first before anything else.
Dream sighed, “We did good tonight,” The three on the bed hollering softly, fist-bumping each other before Dream continued. 
“But...” Y/n, George and Sapnap all groaned, throwing their heads back at the oncoming disappointment that Dream was going to throw on them.
“Sapnap, what the fuck was that? You can’t go off on your own tangents during a plan this big! What would’ve happened if—”
Sapnap’s eyes widened when he realised Dream’s rage was aimed towards him. “Dream! It’s okay, bro. I’m right here, we’re all alive—”
“Don’t talk back to me.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Y/n avoided Dream’s gaze when it landed on her. She didn’t want him asking her to back him up; not tonight. 
“Anyway, I hope you all know what comes next.” The three nodded, heads down and eyes trained on the worn carpet. Sapnap and George stood up and went to different sides of the room, George to the bathroom and Sapnap to the desk where he pulled out his iPod and earphones. 
Dream watched as Y/n lifted her head back up, meeting his gaze. She gave him a soft smile and patted the space on the bed next to her. Dream ran a hand through his tangled blonde hair and walked over to her, sitting where her hand once was. 
“You okay?” She asked softly, placing her hand over his that sat in his lap. Dream nodded before huffing. “I just don’t know how successful this plan actually is. Something’s off.” He whispered, grabbing her hand. Y/n leaned forward to try and meet his green eyes; the ones that made her weak at the knees when he looked at her a certain way. But he didn’t need to know that considering they were just friends.  
“We did good today, look! We’re here, alive and well. And if something’s bothering you, just know that I’ll always be here to help you. Now, I need the bathroom.” She smiled, squeezing his hand before standing up. 
“George? When are you done?” She yelled at the bathroom door. Dream tilted his head to the side as he admired her, what would he do without her?
“Soon! Stop being annoying!” 
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It had reached a point in the night where Dream couldn’t sleep. The single bed he laid in was uncomfortable, and the nagging feeling of doubt kept him awake. Something was wrong. 
He looked over a Y/n who laid in the other bed across from him. His top priority was to keep her safe; he had to. His eyes then travelled to his two other best friends—Sapnap in the desk chair and George on the brown couch. 
He smiled softly. Dream rarely got emotional, but seeing his friends and partners in crime—literally—so vulnerable, had his mind plagued with vicious scenarios that brought tears to his alarmingly vacant eyes. 
They weren’t always void, but seeing death as he did, had pushed the soul of nature out of his once striking eyes. He thought they looked dull now, matching the rest of his face, but Y/n always told him they were the prettiest she’d ever seen. He’d always flush when she said that which always elicited a poke in the ribs and a teasing comment from her. 
Dream forgot how long he’d been lying there, his mind drifting in and out of sleeping until a high-pitched squeak came from the main door. He reached for his knife that held a place under the pillow and sat up, holding his knife and facing the door. 
On the floor next to the door, sat an ominous black envelope. Dream chewed the inside of his lip, his heart beating rapidly with panic. How did they find them?
— 
“How the fuck did they find us?” George asked, his palms sweaty as he held the letter in his hands. The gold foiling around the letters was both alluring and terrifying. 
Palm Casino.  Wednesday Night. 12am.  Be there, or face death. 
Dream had rolled his eyes when he read the letter for the first time; Schlatt was so dramatic. And although fear and doubt had set in his stomach, he didn’t let his friends know. 
How did they find them? They had been careful with the robbery, getting everything they needed without leaving a trace, nothing out of place, except for—
Dream shoved his partners out of the way and leaned down to pick up the briefcase with the Chic-Fil-A gift cards. Sapnap went to interject, primarily to save his prized possession when Y/n grabbed his elbow and shook her head when he turned to her. 
Dream opened it then turned it upside down, emptying the cards onto the rotting carpet. 
“Dream—” 
“Shut up.” He then continued to rip the velvet from the inside of the case to reveal a small box with a red flashing light. Sapnap stopped his wriggling and stood staring at the device. 
“This is your fault, you dipshit.” 
Sapnap was silent. Y/n softened her grip to rub his elbow comfortingly instead, the action making Dream narrow his gaze. The girl rolled her eyes and spoke up, “How was he supposed to know it was in there, Dream? You can’t blame him for this at all.” 
Dream shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor before huffing and scrunching his nose in a disgusted manner.
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Midnight had arrived quickly, like a thief in the dark, and the crescent moon hung high in the sky. A light breeze swept into the city, making the palm trees sway in the delicate moonlight as a black SUV pulled up to the Palm Casino. 
“Okay, here we go. I want you all on your best behaviour,” Dream joked. And as his mask only hid half of his face, a lopsided grin graced his face as he popped the door open. Y/n knew that smile; it was one that was begging for chaos, but she knew it was just a deflection from his real emotions. 
Walking to the entrance, Y/n reached up and placed her hand on Dream’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Dream let out a laugh, “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”
The boys sported black on black suits with matching Rolex watches, the gold of the timepieces shining in the low light. The only differences between them being Dream’s smiley mask, Sapnap’s white bandana in his hair, and George’s white glasses upon the top of his head. Y/n, on the other hand, wore a fitting dress with gold jewellery. She would’ve worn anything else, but considering the situation, she complied. 
As the waitress walked them over to the poker table, Y/n caught Dream’s hand in her own, squeezing it once before letting go. She knew he was worried and the action in itself was enough to calm Dream’s nerves for the time being, but as soon as he made eye contact with Schlatt, it all went away. 
“Boys! How are we doing?” The man yelled, throwing his arms up with a smile on his face. Dream nodded once and sat down at the table, Sapnap and George following. Y/n went to sit beside Sapnap but was cut off by Schlatt who took it upon himself to police the members at said table. 
“I’m sorry, gorgeous. I’m afraid this game is only for the men.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile and clasped his hands on the table. Y/n narrowed her gaze at him before rolling her eyes and moving to stand behind Dream. 
Schlatt then stood and excused himself from the table, making George throw Dream a confused look before the man spoke up. He walked towards another room, guarded by velvet ropes, but not before shouting, “Let the games begin!” 
—  
Dream sat observing the last man in the game next to himself, ensuring he wouldn’t lose, not that he ever did. He had learnt from his father early on to read the expressions of the players around him and how to benefit from the folds and raises. People were shocked when they found out his age, bewildered that such a young man could earn numbers like that. 
Dream stared narrowly at the man; his eyebrows raised as he wore a sly smirk. The man in front of him was profusely sweating, his hand reaching to grasp a tissue from his pocket as the last community card was placed down. The surrounding men groaned; their expressions irritable as the Dream Team gained another win. Dream threw the cards onto the Poker table and stood up, offering his hand to the gentleman. He reluctantly accepted then hurried out of the room, four of his acquaintances following.  
Y/n watched as Dream swapped seats with Sapnap, allowing him his turn at the game. She then moved and leaned down to Dream’s ear, “This is bullshit, where’s Schlatt gone?”
Dream shook his head and shrugged quickly, “Fuck knows.”
“Let’s go, Sapnap,” A man they recognised as Fletcher spoke, sitting down in front of the young man as his buddies filed around the table to take their seats. Sapnap didn’t talk, he only glanced back at Dream who tilted his head, holding his forefinger up to indicate this would be their last round.  
Once Sapnap had collected his two starting cards, the game began. Dream watched as each of the men were eliminated through folds and how they apologised to Fletcher for letting him down. The man brushed them off, telling them to “watch how it’s done”. Dream, Sapnap and George stifled a laugh as they watched the second last man fold. Behind them, Y/n grew impatient and began mumbling to herself about how ridiculous it was.
“Excuse me? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a round? Get the fuck outta here.” Fletcher said, his voice harsh as Y/n’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. Dream went to interject before the man spoke again. 
“A scotch on the rocks.” He then said. 
“I’m not a waitress.” Y/n’s voice was monotone while the man waved her away. Y/n scoffed before she moved towards him. Dream’s hand flew out to catch her wrist, and Y/n rolled her eyes. As angry as Dream was, he wasn’t going to start something with Schlatt’s men before the meeting actually started. Sapnap didn’t pay any attention to the conversations around him, focusing only on winning.
Fletcher chuckled, holding his cards close to his chest, “you dumb kid”. Sapnap’s facial expression went from serious to amused, watching as the dealer placed down the final community card. Sapnap’s eyes flickered to Fletcher’s grey ones as he slammed his cards down on the table. Sapnap then reached to gather his winnings in chips, earning pats on the back from George and a gentle laugh and fist-bump from Dream. 
Fletcher sat in disbelief; he was sure he would win this one. Sapnap stood up and embraced George in a hug before moving to Dream as Fletcher circled around the table. 
“You cheating bastard!” Sapnap held his hands up in defence, clueless as to why this man was coming at him. 
“No cheating here, Fletch, just plain luck,” He grinned, clearly not fearful of him. 
“Dude just take the loss and move on, it’s not that deep,” Y/n said, catching the attention of Fletcher again. 
“Not now, you whore. The men are talking,” Fletcher glowered, looking intimidatingly down at the girl. 
Y/n, however, wasn’t fazed by his words, “Look, it’s not his fault that you lost. I guess you just suck at Poker.” Fletcher’s face went bright red, and Y/n swore she saw steam coming out of his ears. Her eyes widened as she took a step back slowly. George pushed her behind him despite her protests of being able to handle herself. 
“Come on Fletch, there’s no need to go after an innocent woman,” Dream asserted, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. He soon realised that his actions were a mistake as Fletcher spun around and threw his fist towards Dream’s nose. Dream’s mask had cracked slightly on impact, his green eyes widening in panic as he stumbled back slightly. 
Sapnap scanned the other men around them and calculated their next moves before he ducked a punch from a redhead. George’s hands gripped under Dream’s armpits as he pulled him up, dodging fists from the older men. Dream’s eyes were watering from the unexpected hit to the nose, and he could barely see.  
But what he did see was Y/n raising the metal drinks tray she found on the poker table next to them and slamming it down on the back of Fletcher’s bald head. Her eyes were wide as she stood behind his figure that was now on the floor, groaning. Her eyes met his and Dream felt his breath catch in his throat, but he couldn’t acknowledge it at the present time because there were five other guys to deal with. 
Dream regained his posture and cocked his head to the right, stretching his neck before standing off to the others. The men stood with their fists raised in front of their faces and their feet apart, ready to engage. George, Sapnap and Dream were just as confused as Y/n was, who was making sure Fletcher stayed down. 
“I really fucking hate you guys. Let’s get a move on with the meeting, shall we?” Y/n said lazily, she just wanted to get home. 
Dream sat in a large black chair, the lower half of his face covered in blood, the top half covered by his stained, cracked mask. Y/n had her legs crossed, with a stern expression, glaring at Schlatt as he rounded the table to sit at his obnoxiously large desk. 
Schlatt had demanded it only be Dream and Y/n in the office with him, making George and Sapnap wait outside. The two boys had angrily complained about it, but Dream assured them it would be fine, leaving them to sulk next to the heavy wooden door that led to Schlatt’s office. 
“You two make a good pair, eh?” Schlatt smirked, bringing his hands to interlock in front of him on the desk. Dream glanced at Y/n, who gave him a bored look. 
He then turned back to the front, “Why are we here, Schlatt?” 
“Oh, not very friendly,” He laughed, earning no responses from anyone in the room except for his assistant, Quackity, who stood in the corner. “That’s Quackity by the way.” 
Dream shrugged, uninterested with the introduction of his assistant and remained still until Schlatt continued.
“Now, tell me where the money is, Dream.” There it was—the literal million-dollar question.
The masked blonde didn’t react. Y/n cast her eyes towards him, seeing nothing but the white mask that covered his face. The smile on the front was a harsh contrast to the anger Dream felt. And when Schlatt huffed and wiggled his fingers at Quackity, then Dream perked up. 
Suddenly, Y/n wrists were being grabbed by Quackity, who had crossed the room in seconds. Dream immediately stood, only to be pushed back by Schlatt who had moved in front of him. 
Y/n opened her mouth object when Quackity whacked his free hand over her mouth. She let out a whimper at the smack, tears welling in her eyes in shock. Nonetheless, she continued to struggle against his harsh grip on her wrists. Y/n’s breathing became heavier, her thoughts clouded with fear of the unknown; what would Schlatt want with her?  
Quackity dragged the girl from the large chair towards the other side of the room, where another door lay, but he didn’t take her in yet. Dream’s gaze was locked on Y/n, everything else slipping away as he watched her thrash against her captor. 
“Let’s call it leverage?” Schlatt’s haunting voice echoed through the room, and he had an evil gleam in his eye. “You tell me where you hid the money, and I’ll let her go.” 
Dream’s head was on a swivel when he turned back to face Schlatt. Panic blossomed in his stomach; if he gave up the money, they’d all be dead. And as hard of a decision as it was, Dream knew what to do—he had his full faith in Y/n. He remembered what she had told him when they first started working together and drew in a breath. He nodded at Y/n once, receiving a pleading look in reply, and sighed.  
“Give ‘em hell, baby.” 
“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” Sapnap spat as the three men got back into the SUV outside of the casino. George shook his head in the backseat, scoffing as Dream ignored their questions. 
Meanwhile, Dream drove in complete fury. He knew what he did was wrong and stupid, but Y/n once demanded he let her go if she was ever held for ransom. It was an odd request at the time. And this was an irrational move that could get her killed, but he had no choice—it was her or the whole operation, and Dream was loyal. 
“Hello? You fuckin’—” 
“Sapnap.” 
The youngest froze at Dream’s tone and sunk into his seat, choosing to look out of the window than at him. He flexed his hand against the steering wheel, refusing to meet their gazes.
“Y/n asked me before any of this started, that if she were to ever be held hostage, for ransom, whatever, to trust her and let them take her. I don’t know why I never asked her why, but we have to trust her, and you have to trust me for making this decision.”  
“Call Techno and tell him that Schlatt’s taken one of us for ransom.” Dream said to no one in particular. Sapnap scrambled to get his phone from his pocket and dial their boss’ number, but not before turning and facing Dream from the passenger’s seat. 
“I—we trust you, Dream. And we’ll be with you till the end, okay?” Sapnap mumbled, gesturing to George in the backseat.  
“She’ll be fine.” Dream had a hard time believing George, “We know Y/n, she’s a strong girl—a whole lot stronger than us—she’ll get through it.” 
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The piercing sound of metal against metal made Y/n cringe, distracting her from the burning of the new rope bound around her wrists. Quackity’s heavy breathing almost made her laugh, they hadn’t even walked for that long.
He didn’t say anything to Y/n when he guided her inside a cell. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked around the dirty space, scrunching her nose in disgust as she noticed the damp walls and the stray cockroach that scurried across the floor. 
“I’m sorry about the state of this, we don’t have visitors often,” Quackity said, exhaling a scoff he let go of her arms. Y/n’s face dropped when she felt the rope loosen and fall off her wrists. She remained still as Quackity rummaged around behind her. 
The screech of the cell door closing startled Y/n—she thought she’d have more time to fight back. She heard Quackity shuffle away from the cell, and shortly after, the sound of dress shoes tapping on the concrete floor caught her attention. 
Y/n slowly turned around when someone cleared their throat behind her. She rolled her eyes as she came face to face with Schlatt. He stood with his hands behind his back in his usual arrogant suit and his deep red tie.
“Do you know why my tie is this red?” He asked, his head tilted to the side with a patronising smirk. It was an odd question, but Y/n could already guess the answer, she just didn’t want to hear it when she was this vulnerable. 
Schlatt leaned down and closer to the cell, his face fitting perfectly between the bars as his eyes glared into Y/n’s.  
“It’s so you can’t see the bloodstains.” He winked before sanding to his full height, his mood shifting entirely, “Anyways, I’m gonna keep this short. Get comfortable, Princess, you’ll be here awhile knowing Dream and his goons.” 
With a clap of his hands and a small chuckle, Schlatt left, his shoes clacking down the hallway and into the elevator at the end of the hallway. The machine dinged and then it was gone, leaving Y/n in a deafening silence. 
She sank to her knees, crestfallen, onto the concrete beneath her, still in her tight dress. As strong-minded as Y/n was, she couldn’t bring herself to give a witty remark. She was absolutely defeated. She knew Dream would get her out, eventually, but at what cost? Would Dream let everything the Dream Team has worked for in the past 3 years go to waste? For her? 
She didn’t let herself cry as she picked herself up, and hesitantly sat on the cot in the corner of the cell. Her dress was uncomfortable, and the feeling of satin against her skin irritated her immensely. 
Y/n had no idea how far underground she was; she sat in complete darkness and utter silence, nothing but the ringing of her ears and her screaming thoughts to keep her company. 
Dream paced the small space, tearing at his hair roots with his fists, his face red with panic and anger. He was so in his head; he couldn’t hear his two friends calling his name from 3 feet away. The thought of Y/n alone with Schlatt made him so infuriated he could punch a hole through the brick wall next to him. The ringing in his ears was deafening, and the stinging of his nails digging into his palms was numbing. 
Sapnap threw George a concerned glance, his brown eyes pleading George to do something to stop Dream from falling further into an endless loop of guilt and despair. 
“Dream!” The sound of George calling him in that tone caused him to pause his pacing. He turned to look at his English friend with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 
“You need to stop! Y/n wouldn’t want you having an existential crisis over her, she’d want you to hurry up and figure out a plan to get her back.”
Dream stood frozen for a moment; what would Y/n want? It was like a switch flipped inside Dream when he stood up straight, sending him into autopilot. All emotion wiped was from his face, leaving his eyes vacant and face blank. And as much as George hated to admit it, this cold version of his best friend knew what to do and how to do it efficiently. The sudden change shocked Sapnap slightly, leaving him frightened as he grabbed onto George’s sleeve. 
“Ok boys, let’s get to work.”
Emotion is a weakness, and they sure did not need that right now. 
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Y/n had been suffering in the same tight dress and uncomfortable heels for a week; Schlatt’s lack of humanity and human decency (as well as kidnapping her in the first place), had put him in Y/n’s bad books.  
The only human interaction she had was Quackity bringing her meals twice a day and the small conversations they would have as she ate. He didn’t talk about his work much, only hinting at his eventual betrayal and escape from Schlatt. Although, he continually spoke of his family to her, telling Y/n that he was there against his will and was threatened with death if he left. She felt sympathy for the boy, he was so young. 
When Alex, as she now calls him, left her, Y/n was back with her mind. She had remained seemingly sane despite being in solitary confinement but was going insane without Dream. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his emerald ones gleaming at her through the darkness, their vibrance giving her shivers. 
She missed his touch: his cold hands in her’s, their knees brushing slightly when sitting on the motel bed, his hand on her thigh in the car, despite complaints from the boys. She cared deeply for him, and she knew he did too, but they were both too scared of rejection to get together. Sapnap always teased them for being ‘pussies’, and George would roll his eyes whenever they would flush at their closeness—god, she missed them too.
Biting her lip, Y/n tried her best to prevent tears from falling down her cheeks. But she hadn’t let them fall since being held ransom, fearing she would be seen as weak by Schlatt, and even Alex. The burning at the back of her throat was fiery as she let them out. She struggled to breathe, clawing at her throat when she felt her lungs tighten. Y/n tried to sit upright to calm herself down, but her pained cries filled the cold, concrete basement and rattled the cell bars. She sobbed for hours, only falling asleep when the last ones dried. 
As Dream put the car in park, he turned to face George in the passenger’s seat.
“You ready?” He asked. George exhaled and nodded, “Let’s get her back.” 
Dream smirked. His attitude had flipped entirely from last week, leaving him cocky and ready to fight the world. However, George saw through his best friend’s act. He heard Dream’s choked and ragged cries in the bathroom at 4 am, and noticed his red, puffy eyes at 7 am when they woke up. He saw the way his hands shook every time he drove, and he caught onto Dream’s routine of not eating until Sapnap would force him away from the table with the plans spread across it. 
George was concerned for his best friend, and Dream was oblivious. But despite everything, George knew he was determined to get Y/n back, above all else. Her life came before his own, and that scared George to his core, how far would Dream go to save Y/n?
“Ok, Geor—” The piercing screams of fire alarms made Dream jump as they echoed down the street. The two boys shared a surprised look before they hopped out of the SUV. They jogged down the road towards the Palm Casino with black duffle bags on their shoulders.  
Flames rose as high as the sky and embers rained on Dream and George as they ran through the smoke to the entrance. Employees darted out of the main doors, crashing into the boys as they continued to the central control room of the casino. George heaved the heavy door open before closing it firmly behind them. They dropped the bags and began drinking in the clean air as they set their eyes on Sapnap who sat behind a desk with his feet up on the table. 
“Well, boys, how did I do?” He said, arms out as he cocked his eyebrow up. George laughed in disbelief, “I can’t believe that worked.”  
Sapnap shook his head quickly, “You had no faith in me, did you?” He threw his hand on his chest and stood up from his spot. 
“Sap, you did great!” Dream exclaimed, walking over to slap the boy on the back. Sapnap’s pained expression turned into a smile as he watched George do the same. 
“Ok then, where’s the security office?”
“I can’t fit my fat ass through there, Sapnap.” Dream’s jaw dropped as he measured the gap with his hands, “There’s just no way!” 
George rolled his eyes and pushed Dream towards the duct, “Just go! Do you want Y/n back or not?” Dream’s face scrunched up, much like a child when having a tantrum, and whined. 
“Why don’t you just go? I simply just cannot fit! Here, you wanna see?” George and Sapnap nodded, amused looks on their faces as they watched him dive headfirst into the air duct. 
His body slipped in in such an elegant way that it made them burst out laughing. Dream, who couldn’t see his friends, exhaled deeply before he began crawling along. His movements heightened their laughter, seeing him wiggle through, but it only made Dream more determined to pursue the journey. 
“Oh yeah, you have such a fat ass, Dream! Throw it back for me, baddie!” Sapnap yelled after him, his giggles interrupting the sentence a few times. 
George and Sapnap’s antics were long gone, and all Dream could hear was the squeaking of an elevator and the creaking of the metal beneath him. He had memorised the layout of the ducts in his head and decided that this was the spot to drop down into.  
The first basement looked usual,  with a boiler in the corner and some filing cabinets lining the walls. Dream dropped from the ceiling with no sound, moving silently towards the elevator in the opposing corner of the large room. The sound of shoes slapping the hard ground paused Dream’s movements before he moved quickly behind a cabinet. 
“—He said not to go down there, Tubbo. What do you think he’s hiding?” 
Dream furrowed his eyebrows, were those kids? He adjusted his mark slightly before he peeked around the corner of the filing cabinet. Sure enough, Dream saw two teenage boys, one significantly taller than the other. But nonetheless, they were definitely very young. Why did Schlatt hire two British kids to guard his secret underground prison? Dream shook his head, glancing down at the floor as he crept out of his hiding spot. 
“Oi!” He heard. Dream looked up, seeing the taller boy stalk towards him. The blonde boy stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he looked back at the other boy. 
“Tubbo, do you know who this is?” The blonde asked in disbelief. The shorter one nodded, his expression lifting at the sight of Dream. Their jaws dropped as Dream exhaled deeply. 
“Dream? As in the Dream Team? As in Techno Industries?” Dream rolled his eyes behind his mask. He didn’t respond as the two boys inched closer to him. 
“Listen, I’ll give you a few bucks if you don’t mention this to Schlatt, got it?” Dream growled, shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out a few hundred-dollar bills. The boys’ eyes shone, the shorter one reaching forward to accept the bribe before the blonde pushed him back. 
“That’s all? I was expecting at least a grand each from THE Dream.” He smirked. Dream remained expressionless and went to decline before the blonde continued. “It’s a grand each or I tell Schlatt you were snooping around his casino.” 
Dream shook his head and pulled another $600 from his pocket and shoved it into their hands, “Now shut the fuck up, or I’ll do it myself.” 
The taller one went to reply, but the other one pulled on his sleeve and shook his head. He rolled his eyes and mumbled a string of curse words before turning and stomping away. The other boy muttered a quick ‘thank you’ with a small smile on his face and hurried off in the direction of the staircase that went up to the casino’s main floor. Dream guessed that the fire had been taken care of by the way they fled carelessly up the stairs. 
Dream sighed and trod over to the elevator. He pressed the arrow to go down and groaned when the scanner next to it blinked red. 
He scrunched up his face when he glanced back towards the air duct. The only other option was to try and get down the air duct and into the rafters in the basement below. 
Dream had the urge to throw a temper tantrum at Sapnap’s shitty planning. He pulled himself back up into the duct and crawled towards the wall where the elevator was. Reaching a sharp drop, Dream looked over the edge, his eyes widening at the height. He grunted as he positioned himself above the fall; all he had to do was slide down. 
He could hardly see the bottom, but he knew if he slid down as planned, he would go straight through. So, instead, Dream slowly moved his arms and legs into the small space and gradually let himself down, inching closer to the bottom with every move.  
Sweat dripped down his temple, and his muscles ached as he went, his palms becoming slippery against the smooth and thin metal. He held his breath as he reached the bottom, scared any sound he made would attract unwanted attention from whoever could be in the vicinity.  
He let out a quiet, steady breath, and he returned to his hands and knees in the horizontal air duct. His original plan was irrelevant, so he didn’t know the map of the air ducts in the second basement, leaving him guessing. 
Once he thought the spot was right, he harshly pushed on a panel of the duct below him, hearing it clatter on the concrete as it hit the ground. He cringed at the sound and slowly lowered himself onto the beams that were directly below him. How convenient. 
The sharp sound of the panel dropping had caught the attention of several guards. On this level, there were actual security guards with weapons and not lippy teenagers. Dream made eye contact with one of them, scolding himself when the man scrambled for his walkie talkie as he spotted Dream on the beams above. 
Dream rolled his eyes and dropped from the ceiling, crouching as he landed before standing up. He brought his pointer finger to his lips before bringing his fist to his neck and dragging his thumb across the skin. The action itself made the security guard’s eyes widen and freeze his movements. Dream’s sadistic smile and seemingly wild nature made the guard move backwards into the wall as he passed. 
He went around another corner and was met with an entirely different area he wasn’t expecting. But, Dream was sure he was going to succeed in finding Y/n and escaping as soon as possible. And of course, the echo of a sinister whistle made him freeze. Fuck.
“Dream! Hey, buddy, how’s it going?” As Schlatt rounded the corner, a smirk spread across his smug face, Dream squeezed his eyes shut. 
“A little friend of mine told me you were here! Just thought I’d come and say hi,” He chuckled as Dream cracked his knuckles. Damn kids.
“Schlatt, where’s Y/n?” Dream demanded, cracking his neck when he jerked his head to the side. 
“Now, that’s not a nice way to greet a friend, is it, Dream?” 
Dream’s eyes widened behind his mask. He stood stunned, no words coming from his mouth. 
“Dream, she’s not yours. She never has been. So why do you think you have to save her?” Dream’s expression remained the same as Schlatt continued, “You’re too pussy to even ask her out, let alone be her boyfriend.” It was a ridiculous argument, Schlatt knew that, but he was positive he was going to get a rise out of Dream this way. 
He sneered at Dream’s silence, the deep rumble of his cackle rattling Dream’s bones. Suddenly, a scream added to the ominous atmosphere that Schlatt had created, and Dream jumped into action, launching himself at the older man. 
“Where is she?” His voice became raspy as he threw a punch at Schlatt’s temple. Schlatt growled at the attempt and hurled his arm back at Dream. He dodged it, barely, but stepped back and rushed towards the cell Y/n was in. 
“Y/n?” He shouted, ducking and searching for the girl through the bars of the numerous cells that lined the basement. 
“Here.” 
The sound of her broken voice snapped Dream into action. Sprinting down the hallway, he was met with Y/n’s grubby and exhausted body. His heart broke at the sight of her, and he gripped the bars, pulling and pushing them in an attempt to break them. 
Dream was so caught up in getting Y/n out, he didn’t notice Schlatt coming from his left. 
The impact of a fist colliding with his temple sent Dream stumbling to the right, his mask cracking slightly in the corner at the force. He grunted in pain before spinning to meet Schlatt again, who had his arm raised in its previous position. Dream tried to shake his head from his dazed state, the unexpected hit stunning his consciousness. 
Schlatt aimed once again and swung his fist to hit Dream in the face. But, Dream saw it coming and swivelled to the left to dodge the incoming punch. Schlatt let out a guttural sound, growing frustrated with his miss. The hit to his temple left Dream seeing stars; however, he managed to duck and strike Schlatt in his stomach, earning a deep groan. The older man recovered quickly, picking himself back up to his full height as he mumbled, “bastard.” 
Dream was losing shamefully, lazily avoiding punches and swaying lightly as Schlatt grinned at his anticipated win. 
Whilst Dream stumbled slightly, Schlatt snickered, his fist coming across to hit him again. This time, the punch followed through and cracked his ceramic mask fully, the object dropping to the ground and shattering on impact. Schlatt barked out a laugh as he watched the pieces scatter.  
“And here we have, the real Dream! You know, you’re not what I expected. Definitely uglier.” He cackled, doubling over in laughter as Dream watched. He blinked and was void of any emotion as Schlatt stood back up. 
“What? Can’t take a joke?” Dream clenched his jaw, and he lunged forwards, his hands coming to grip onto Schlatt’s shoulders and bringing his knee up to jab him in his stomach. He groaned out in pain as he doubled over, yet again, but this time not in joy. 
The back of Dream’s belt that held his handgun was screaming at him. So, reaching behind him, Dream revealed his firearm. The weapon had wiped Schlatt’s smug look off of his face, replacing it with one of fear. His expression mocked Dream, although he didn’t catch onto Schlatt’s taunting. 
“Dream, listen, buddy—” 
“Shut the fuck up, Schlatt.”
But, Dream’s face contorted to something of confusion and horror when Schlatt started chuckling. He pulled the side of his suit jacket to the side to reveal a similar Glock, making Dream freeze his once confident motions. 
“You see, I’m always 3 steps ahead of you, Dream,” Schlatt tormented, pulling the gun from its secure place in his jacket.  
“You’re fucked now.” Dream went to lunge at him again, but Schlatt stepped to the side and pushed him down.
Dream’s gun went sliding across the polished concrete and out of his reach. The blonde swore as he saw Schlatt stumbling towards his fallen body. He lifted himself off of the ground, panting heavily as he ducked another punch from the older man. Dream stepped back, balancing his weight on his right foot, and threw his fist out towards Schlatt’s cheek. The punch landed, and Schlatt staggered backwards slightly, blood dripping from his lips as he grinned. 
“I see how it’s gonna be,” He lifted his arm and aimed the gun towards Y/n, who stood in the cell behind him. Dream leaned to the side to catch Y/n’s pained gaze. 
“Please,” Dream’s strained voice was barely audible through Schlatt’s booming psychotic laughter. Clenching his fists, Dream glared at him, “Don’t do this, Schlatt.” 
“Oh, Dream, I could do this all day!—” A flat crack bounced off the concrete room and was soon followed by a heavy thud. Dream swallowed in shock as he watched deep red blood spill across the floor, oozing out of the fresh wound. He was frozen in his spot as he watched the body twitch and then loll, unmoving. 
“Dream?” Dream’s eyes flickered from Schlatt’s body to Y/n, who stood with his gun loosely in her hand. 
“Y/n?” His voice was weak as he struggled to stand. The clatter of the gun dropping on the hard surface didn’t come close to silence the thoughts running through his head.  
“Hey, hey, hey, I’m okay, I’m here. Dream?” Y/n cried, wrapping her arms around Dream’s stiff body. His hand came up to feel the wetness on his cheeks, and he pulled it away, seeing red smeared on his fingers. 
“He’s gone?” He whispered, earning a nod from Y/n, “It’s okay.”
“No, I know. It just shocked me, that’s all. I thought he killed you.” 
Y/n sighed, tightening her grip on him, pressing her face into his shoulder, “I’m right here, see. I’m not hurt, I’m fine, with you.”  
Dream turned his head towards her, an unsure expression on his face as he threw his arms around her. 
“Fuck, I thought—” 
“Dream. Deep breaths.” He nodded, following Y/n’s motions in breathing evenly. 
“Jesus, usually you’re the one helping me calm down from something like this,” Y/n giggled, her hand coming to run her fingers through his hair, not minding the dampness of drying blood. A smile broke out on Dream’s face before he noticed Y/n’s eyes widen and her head fly to the side to search for something. 
“What’s wrong?” Dream asked, seeing Y/n’s eyebrows crease, “Your mask.” She whispered, spotting the shattered ceramic feet away from where they sat. 
Dream breathed out a laugh, bringing her face back towards his, “My mask is the least of my worries right now.” 
“I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” 
“Of course, you will.” 
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“Y/n!” Sapnap yelled, running towards the girl as she pushed open the security office door. Y/n locked her arms around Sapnap’s shoulders as they embraced, the pair giggling in disbelief. 
“How have you guys not been kicked out yet? The fire’s out.” Dream said, closing the door behind them. George shrugged, “Paid ‘em off.” Dream snorted in response.
When Y/n pulled away from Spanap, she hugged George, who was eagerly waiting behind them. 
“Don’t do that ever again. You left me with two dumbasses for so long,” George mumbled. Y/n felt tears fill her eyes as she squeezed George tighter, “I missed you guys so much.”
And after a teary reunion, the group sat around the desk in the middle of the room. 
“Where’s the big man himself?” Sapnap nervously laughed, dread ate at his conscience at the thought of Schlatt coming after them again. 
“Schlatt’s dead.” The news had George raising his eyebrows and pushing his head forward, “Huh? Sorry? What?” 
“He’s dead, Y/n killed him.” Dream stated, earning a small smile from Sapnap that Y/n laughed at. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. Sapnap’s reaction made me giggle.” 
The group shared a collective rumble of laughter before Dream suggested they went back to the motel. 
“Hey,” Dream whispered at Y/n when she passed him, gently grasping her elbow. “You guys go ahead, I just need to speak with Y/n,” He continued, waving the boys in the direction of the car. George and Sapnap shared a knowing look and tried their best to conceal their cheeky smiles. 
“What’s up with them?” Y/n asked, throwing her thumb over her shoulder at the boys. Dream shook his head slightly, “No clue.” 
“Anyway, I just wanted to ask how you are. You know, after everything.”
Y/n nodded, “I’m okay, I think. I don’t think anything’s really hit me yet.” Dream sighed in response. 
Y/n sucked her lips between her teeth, throwing her arms around Dream’s neck in a hug. He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around her waist. 
“Thank you,” She whispered in his ear, her voice cracking with emotion. Dream’s heart clenched at the sound and tightened his grip around her. 
“You don’t have to thank me, baby. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, you know that,” He murmured, hiding his reddening face in her neck. He flushed, even more, when he felt her lips against his neck, “I love you, so much, Dream.” 
Dream’s heart skipped a beat before he pulled his head from her neck. His green eyes looked into hers, the closeness of them making Y/n inhale sharply. 
“And I love you. Don’t forget that, okay?” He replied, his voice low. Y/n nodded shortly, inching her lips up to his. 
“Kiss me.” She muttered, nudging his nose with hers. Dream laughed breathy before leaning down and brushing his lips against hers. 
Their bodies had become flushed against one another, her hips against his as they shared a heated kiss. Dream pulled away first, his cheeks pink and his lips plump. Y/n whined silently, bouncing in her heels at the loss of his lips. 
Dream smiled widely at her, “I guess I want you more than I thought I did.” Y/n gasped, taking her hand from his neck to slap his chest, giggling like a schoolgirl at his teasing. 
“Shut up, you’ve wanted me since you met me,” She said to which Dream nodded. 
“You got that right, baby.” 
Feedback is greatly appreciated, always xoxo
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Can You Get Enough Of Me? - Michael Myers x Reader
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"It's a nice day today, huh?" Y/N smiled up at the sky as she went back and forth in the swing. "Will you push me, Mickey?" "Sure." he shrugged as he got off his own swing and went behind her, pushing her the best he could. "Look, Mickey, I'm flying! Whooooo!" the little girl giggled without a care in the world, as Michael watched her long, beautiful hair going everywhere. "Okay, okay, I wanna swing too!" but before the girl could take her time and stop swinging, a bunch of older boys came by and roughly grabbed the chains holding the swing, which in turn, made the girl fall off and get hurt. "Y/N!" Michael gasped as he ran to her side, helping her up, and seeing the blood seeping from one of her legs and arm. "Aww, Myers's got a giiirlfriend! Look at them, gonna fuck? Girl, don'tcha know, Myers's a faggot?" the gang hollered maliciously, and Y/N could only frown, despite the tears of pain from her injuries, and clinging on Michael for support, she got up and yelled at the boys. "Leave Michael alone, jerks! You're rude!" but instead of trying to fight them off, or go in a brawl, she grabbed her friend's arm and dragged him away from there, knowing that if he were to get in trouble again, he'd get some bad detention, and that's the last thing she'd want. Besides...Two kids couldn't possibly fight those guys. "Why didn't you let me fight them?! I could've taken them on!" the blond boy glared at his friend, who only rolled her eyes and sighed at his childishness. "No, you couldn't. Besides, if the teachers find out you got in trouble again, who knows what will happen? Come on, let's go to the fountain, I have to wipe off the blood." Y/N muttered, going on ahead to sit on the rocks by the fountain and took out her handkerchief from her little bag, dipping it in the water and carefully wiping away the red liquid streaming down her limbs, hissing from the pain here and there, but otherwise, staying completely silent. "I'm sorry..." the girl suddenly heard the blond boy mutter, barely audible. "Huh? What do you have to be sorry about, Mickey?" as her eyes widened from the shock, she leaned forward, raising his chin up with her finger. "...I couldn't protect you. I suck. I'm as bad as that fuckass says I am..." he sighed, gently pulling away her hand and looking away from her. "Look at what they did to you. Could've been much worse. And yet, you stood up for me, while I did nothing. I'm a horrible friend." his voice was pitiful, and it was obvious he hated his lack of strength. "First of all, you aren't just my friend. You're my BEST friend. Okay? And nothing in this world will change that. Got it? Okay. Second of all, we're still little and weak. That's how kids are. Trying to fight those guys is like trying to fight the forces of nature...You...You can't fight a hurricane, you know? And...Violence isn't the answer. I mean...Look at our parents. There's nothing good coming out of that...But someday! Someday we'll get older and stronger, and nobody will bully us anymore! It just...It takes a while...I guess." she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, trying to comfort him. "That's shit! They'll see, they'll ALL pay for it! Nobody will dare be fuckers with us anymore! And when I grow up, I will make sure everyone is nice to you." he was so revolted, but his anger gradually dissipated as he felt her warmth. "Please don't speak like that. Calm down, Mickey. Things are okay now. At least we have each other, and we will always have each other, don't forget that, okay?" she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes for a while, only to hear an aggressive male voice booming through the park which made the girl yelp and tremble in fear. "GET AWAY FROM THAT FREAK, Y/N! GET HERE RIGHT NOW!" her father yelled at her and she could only whimper silently, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating. "B-But daddy, Michael is not bad...! H-He tried to protect me from those mean boys from the playground!" she spoke meekly, slowly walking in front of her father, her head hung in fear, only for the man to burry his hand in
her hair, pulling on it roughly, making the girl yelp in pain. "Don't talk back to me, you stupid little bitch! You have no right to go against what I say while you're under MY roof, got it? Home, now." Michael couldn't even retaliate in any way, knowing that if he were to cause trouble for her, she would get in even more trouble, and that's the last thing he'd want...But why did it have to be her...?
He can take it, alright...But her...That's just not acceptable. She is small, and weak, and frail, and innocent...And there is nobody who can protect her.
Nobody but him...
----
"Michael, Michael, are we going trick or treating today?" Y/N asked, skipping around him in her cutesy witch costume, while he was a boring clown. "I guess." he shrugged, pulling down his clown mask. "Come on, it's Halloween, Mickey! You love Halloween! It's your favourite holiday! And we get free candy! It's gonna be fuuun~!" she bumped him with her body, making him stumble a bit, before looking at her and groaning. "Fine, fine, we're going. I just have to tell my mum." he grabbed her wrist and dragged her to his house, but on the way, she stopped him. "Hey, how about we trick or treat all the houses on the way to yours? I mean, there's nothing bad in that, right? We're just going home! It's not even considered a detour!" Y/N grinned widely, her beautiful eyes sparkling with excitement. "...Okay, let's do that." as he said that, Michael took out his candy bag from his schoolbag and taking her hand, they went to all house from both sides of the street. "Trick or Treat!" they both exclaimed as the first grandma opened the door with a loving look on her face. "Ahh, my, my, how cute you two are! And what do we have here...A very adorable, magical witch! And...A funny clown! How lovely!" the woman clapped her hands together to her chest, admiring the two kids. "Ma'am, he's not just a clown, he is my jester! Isn't he so cute?" she threw her arms around his neck, slamming his face to hers as she grinned even wider, making the woman laugh at them. "Yees, yes, I understand! Here, darlings, you're so adorable, take all of these. Hope to see you two, cuties, next year as well! Have fun!" the grandma patted both their heads before going back to her home. "Wiiicked! Look how much candy we've got! My fave holiday is Christmas, but honestly, Halloween is a very close runner up! Our teeth will literally rot after this!" the girl giggled as she inspected each variety of candy in her bag, "I love it 'cause I can spare people." Michael shrugged simply, but he also munched on some candy corn. "Would you scare me, Mickey?" Y/N turned her face to his, her eyes widening with a glimmering, innocent curiosity. "...No. I wouldn't. But you're the only one, okay?! Everyone else, I'd scare!" he tried to sound scary and dangerous, but it only made the little girl giggle and kiss his cheek. "You're my hero! My handsome knight in shining armour, Mickey! Thank you for protecting me. You're the best." help his soul, he wasn't used to people saying good things about him... "...But I'm ugly...That's why I wear a mask so often..." he muttered, looking down at the ground. "No! That's so not true! You're very pretty, okay? I love your face! And you have the most gorgeous eyes in the world! And...And...And your hair is so lovely, I'm jealous! Please don't say bad things about yourself, Mickey, it makes me very upset." she pouted, hugging him tightly, and it was pretty clear neither of them wanted to let go. "You won't leave me, would you, Y/N?" Michael's low voice came out barely above a whisper, but it was the only time he ever allowed himself to show any kind of weakness or vulnerability. "Never. Some day, we will be together forever, okay?" she ruffled his hair playfully, which made his face flush softly. "Hey, actually...Here you go. This is yours now. This way, if you're ever lonely, you'll remember I'm always thinking of you, okay?" Y/N grinned sweetly at him as she took off her flower-charmed necklace and put in on him, hiding it under his costume, so nobody else could see it. "Mum gave this to me on my birthday, before she died. It means the world for me, and so do you. So...Don't forget that, okay? I hope you'd smile more, you have a very pretty smile." as she said that, she squished his chipmunk cheeks.
The boy said nothing - What was he supposed to do, anyway? He was overwhelmed entirely by the only person who makes him feel...Good? But he had to go home, and he already knew that home was hell, and by the time he went there, he knew he wouldn't actually be going trick or treating, as promised...And he'd have to let Y/N down again.
Stupid family.
With a very disappointed voice, he went outside of the house and told the girl that he can't go trick or treating with her, but instead of yelling or disappointment, she just smiled and hugged him.
"It's alright! There's always next year! And besides, we already kinda went trick or treating, right? Sweet dreams, Mickey! Take care!" she waved at him cheerfully and skipped back home.
But little did she know that would be the last Halloween they'd spend together, for that night, a massacre happened at his home, and deep down, Y/N knew.
She just...Knew.
It was Michael who created that blood bath. He couldn't take all that abuse anymore, and Y/N understood that well enough...And she hated herself for thinking this, but she knew she was selfish...
If Michael didn't kill his family, they'd still have been able to hang out daily, and laugh together, lick each other's wounds, and go trick or treating on Halloween...
But she had to be happy with visiting him at Smith's Grove institute weekly with his mum, and they'd chat, and talk, and try to get him out of the shell that he hid himself into...
And he wouldn't stop hiding his face behind his masks, every week, a new one, a new one, and a new one, each time, weirder and creepier and grotesque.
No matter what his mother told him, and no matter what Y/N told him...Michael didn't listen, and the more time he spent there, the less he spoke...Until he hasn't said a word to Y/N in at least two weeks. It made the poor girl tear up, fearing that he hated her, but at least he'd shake his head and clutch his shirt where the gifted necklace would be.
And she would understand.
His mother was confused, and the Dr. was confused as well, but Y/N wasn't, and she'd smile at him and wouldn't explain what happened. It was their little secret, and nobody would be able to be made aware of.
And then...After many weeks of visiting, Michael stuck again and killed a nurse, which led to his mother committing suicide, and since she had nobody to go with to visit him, the last thing she could do was send in letters weekly, hoping they will be given to him, but she had no way of knowing, since nobody wanted to tell her anything, and no reply came by.
Until she gave up writing, thinking that Michael actually hated her, and decided to go on with her life, and her father made her move away to another state to get better education.
15 years passed, and the now 27 year old Y/N was a University graduate who worked hard and was able to get her old home in Haddonfield...To think she'd finally be able to go there again, she never would have thought that.
But here she was, having found a nice, well-paying job, and she was pretty happy, albeit nostalgic, being again back...Home. By the time she returned, she had already learnt how to play the guitar too, so every Friday night, she'd sit on her porch and play a song, softly singing along, hoping not to disturb anyone.
"I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for loving me..." she hummed, singing the song by Kiss as she looked up at the starry night with no care in the world.
It was a simple life, but it was good and peaceful - And she had quite a lot of money to do with as she pleases - What else could ask for?
"BREAKING NEWS! A psychiatric patient from Smith's Grove escaped just last night and -..." but Y/N didn't bother hearing the rest of it, because...Because... "Michael...!" she gasped, covering her mouth with both her hands from the shock, tears threatening to fall and she goes outside, looking around, left and right, down the street, hoping to see a glimpse of the blond boy she once held so dear to her heart.
And what a coincidence, tomorrow night was Halloween...Did he do it on purpose? Did he even remember the days they spent together? Or how special Halloween was for him? Did he still have that silly necklace with him? Did he ever read her letters?
So many questions that she was pretty sure she'll never get an answer to, and that thought alone killed her.
The next day, she dressed in her Kiss loose Tshirt, remembering how that was Michael's favourite band, and somewhere in her heart, she hoped to see him again, even just by a little bit. Even a glimpse at his beautiful blue eyes would be enough.
But she knew she was dreaming...
She went to work as usual, but she was so busy that she didn't realise she ended up overstaying and overworking herself until she left the place and realised it was already dark outside, and there were barely any children trick or treating - But hey, there still were a few - And Y/N couldn't help but smile and remember the cute witch and her loyal jester.
The good times...
As she hummed carefree and looked up at the starry sky, but then she heard a crack, and looking back...Nothing? Hmm...Suspicious... She continued walking, but the ominous feeling in the back of her head continued, and so, she took out her pocket mirror and noticed a man somewhere in the back, walking towards her. A colleague from work, she recognised him, yes, she remembers him. He was kicked out from the job because of his inappropriate behaviour...And him following her now truly was no good news.
Analysing the situation, she realised she was close enough to home to make a break for it, so taking a deep breath, she sprinted the hell out of there...But...things didn't go as expected.
Before she could even reach her home, for she was pushed to the ground and straddled, his hands immediately finding their way around her neck, trying to immobilise her, to stop her from struggling and let him have his way with her.
But Y/N was a fighter, and she didn't want to allow the bullying she experienced as a child to take over her adult life, but she also didn't have the body strength to go against this guy, no matter how much she tried to struggle.
However...Before she knew it, the man stopped - Almost as if he froze - And she was splattered with liquid. It was blood. The man above her was stabbed in the chest, then in the head continuously, before his body was snatched and tossed away like a ragdoll.
Great - Y/N thought - From one criminal to another, with a whimper, she tried to get up and run away, but the man was too fast for her, and he picked her up with a weird ease, getting her inside her own house and letting her fall down on her couch.
The man saw fear in her eyes, and she was whimpering, her head hung as she tried to make herself as small as possible - As if she wasn't already so small, especially compared to him - It was pissing him off, as he remembered her jackass father abusing her. He would never hurt her! He promised her he'd always protect her, so why is she so scared of him...?!
"E-Excuse me...Uhm...Mister...A-Are you...Maybe...Uhmm...Are you Michael...?" she stuttered in such a meek voice that it grated his brain. This isn't right, Y/N was cheerful and happy. This...This wasn't right... The man got a hand underneath the neck of his blouse, only to reveal the old flower necklace from long ago. "Michael...! It really is you...Michael...I can't believe it! Oh my God...You grew up so much, this is insane!" as if a switch turned inside her, the girl jumped on her couch and threw herself on the incredibly tall man, not caring whether he liked it or not.
He was her Michael, and she missed him.
"You still don't talk, do you? Well...At least take off this mask of yours. I told you, I hate it when you hide yourself from me. I want to see your beautiful face." she chuckled, pulling Michael down with her on the couch, as he stood with his hands mid-way in the air, rather awkwardly, before finally pulling up his old mask and threading with it with his hands that were laying on his lap. "There we go, as beautiful as ever." she chuckled softly as she parted his long, dirty blond hair and letting it fall down his back, so his face could properly be seen. "Oh my God, you even have a stubble. I can't believe it. Well, we are all grown up after all, aren't we? Seems like almost yesterday when we'd go trick or treating...On this very day." she kept talking of the nostalgic things from so long ago, so much that it made Michael grunt in amusement, but his face didn't sketch any emotion. It really upset Y/N, it felt like talking to a wall. "Well, at least I'm happy that you remember me. I didn't think you did. I kinda thought you hated me too, I didn't know if you got any of my letters either. Uhm...I don't really know what to say. It's weird talking to myself like that. But I'm happy to see you again." she continued speaking before stopping altogether and fidgeting awkwardly on her spot next to him, as he didn't even move, or bother saying a single word.
They stood like that for a while, until Michael suddenly started moving, and revealed a bunch of unopened letters - All from her.
"You have all of them...!" Y/N gasped in shock, taking the letters and examining all of them one by one. "Why didn't you open them?" but instead of an answer, he shook his head. "Did you...Not have them...Until recently?" Y/N tried to guess, and the answer came in the form of a nod. "That stupid doctor! How dare he?! ...You must have felt so lonely stuck there...With your mum shooting herself, I couldn't go there anymore, so I sent you letters weekly...The doctor promised to give them to you...Urgh, what a jerk. And I thought you hated me and that's why you didn't want to reply to them...But you just got them. How annoying." Y/N groaned, realising the truth of what happened, and she let the letters fall down on the coffee table.
After some more silence between the two, Michael pointed towards her shirt, and she smiled, nodding and taking her guitar before leaning on his side. "Yeah, I know it's your favourite band. I never forgot that." she chuckled, and as she started playing the same song she knew so well - And she felt a strong arm sneaking around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. It surprised her a bit, but she felt so safe and warm in his embrace.
"I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for lovin' me. And I can't get enough of you, baby..." she sang in the same sweet, crystalline, soft voice that he loved so much, and missed over the many years they've been separated.
"...Can you get enough of me?"
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Ask the Stars [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]
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Find my masterlist here. Requests are Open.
Requested: Yes l No
A/N: I’ve had this idea floating around for a while and finally decided to write it and it flowed liked nobodies business! I LOVED writing this so I hope you enjoy reading it. Special thanks to the angel @dreatine who gave me the title for this fic and showing me the beautiful song the title is from (lyrics for which can be found throughout). Set pre-BAU.
CW: swearing, drinking, mutual pining, friends to lovers, age gap between consenting adults, virgin! Spencer, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, groping. I think that’s everything!
Plot: growing up together, best friends Spencer and the reader have always been secretly in love with one another. But a night together under the stars might be too little too late and with Spencer moving to DC and you to Idaho, that one night may be all you ever get.
WC: 12.2K
—————————————————————
Ask the stars up in the sky,
Ask the stars they’ll tell you why.
Stars know ev’ry little thing you do,
There’s a little star that’s watching you.
Ask the stars when you’re with me,
Ask the stars then watch and see.
Las Vegas, Nevada - 2003
Spencer didn’t think he would have made it through the last ten years of his life and been where he was now if it hadn't been for the family next door.
He was just twelve years old when they’d moved in, struggling to cope with high school bullies and his mom's schizophrenia all on his own.
They would help out with his mom in any way they could, they had him round for dinner when it was too tough for him to go home and they took him along on their annual camping trips every year.
They had been there for him when he’d had to have his mom committed when he was eighteen. They were kind, friendly people. They treated Spencer like their own son.
He liked to pretend when he was with them that they were his family. He liked to play pretend, that he had a loving father and a mom who wasn’t sick.
He lived in a fantasy world whenever he was with them.
But Spencer’s favourite part about the family next door by far, was their daughter, Y/N.
You were four years Spencer’s junior, just an adorable eight year old when you’d moved in next door to the young genius and his mother. The two of you had grown up together and somewhere along the way attraction and feelings developed.
Of course neither one of you had ever said as much. You were best friends, you didn’t want to risk destroying that by confessing your feelings for him.
And besides, at the end of the summer the two of you were going your separate ways; you were off to college in Idaho and Spencer was moving to DC for his illustrious new job at the FBI.
This was the last chance the two of you had to spend time together before everything inevitably changed. So maybe going on a camping trip with your parents at eighteen was a little lame. But there was one reason and one reason alone you were going on the trip.
Spencer Reid.
***
Just as you were lugging the last of your bags out of the front door, you heard the front gate creak open.
Your eyes shot up and landed instantly on his as he slipped through the gate.
You immediately dropped the bag on the floor and were dashing down the front steps and down the path.
“Spence!” You squealed, running at him at speed.
He caught you in his arms and the two of you almost went tumbling back to the concrete but he managed to steady you both.
“Whoa Y/N,” he laughed, wrapping you tightly in his arms. “I missed you too.”
You clung to your best friend, breathing in his scent. He’d only been gone two months finishing up his third PhD, but it felt like forever.
The last few years Spencer’s studies had taken him away from Vegas much more than you would have both liked. He’d missed the last two family camping trips and they had been so dull without him.
You were so happy to have him back for one last trip.
“It’s so good to see you.” You smiled, pulling back from the hug to get a proper look at him. Of course over the years you’d memorised every sculpted curve of his face, those sharp cheekbones, deep set eyes and sinfully plump lips but you would never tire of looking at him.
“Y/N, Spencer, it’s time to go!” Your mom hollered from the street, breaking you out of your thoughts.
“Give me a hand with my bag?”
“Of course.” He smiled, following up the path to the house.
You felt lighter when Spencer was around, like all of your worries and fears just melted away.
You had no idea how you would cope with him in DC while you were in Idaho. But that was a problem for another day.
For now you were just revelling in Spencer’s presence.
***
Admittedly camping with your parents was never a terrible experience. Your dad was the outdoorsy type, your mom was not. So they compromised.
Yes you were in the woods but your mom would not allow sleeping in rustic tents. Every year she booked up the most glamorous of tents for your stays. Wood flooring, real beds, even nightstands and lamps.
So technically you were sleeping in a tent, but it was just as comfortable, if not more so than your bedroom at home. The site was equipped with showers and real toilets. It wasn’t really like camping at all.
“Oh Spencer sweetie,” your mom called to him as you were unpacking the car several hours of driving later.
“Yes?” He looked up at her with a smile.
“Did Y/N tell you, we weren’t able to book three pods this year, I must have called late. I hope it’s ok for the two of you to share?”
Wow. Your mom was a better liar than you pegged her to be.
Even your dad seemed to fall for it.
When she’d told you a few days ago, you’d seen right through it.
You knew your mom had known for a long time of your crush on your genius neighbour. She’d probably known before even you did.
So you didn’t question it when she’d told you she’d only been able to book two camping pods, but you were sure your blush gave away exactly what you thought about it.
“Uhm yeah I guess that’s fine.” He shrugged and was that a blush you saw spreading to his cheeks? “I’ve got my sleeping bag, I can just sleep on the floor.”
Not if I have anything to do with it, you thought but his response seemed to appease your father.
Once Spencer went back to emptying the bags from the car your mom gave you a look and a small smirk.
You tried not to blush. Your mom had always been pretty cool for a mom and you had never been more grateful for that until right now.
You finished unpacking the car and took your stuff to your allocated tent to change before heading down to the lake.
Spencer took some clothes to the toilets to change and you spent longer than was necessary picking out the perfect bathing suit.
The last time Spencer had seen you in a bathing suit was two years ago and boy had your body changed in two years. You couldn’t wait to show it off to him.
You just hoped he liked what he saw.
***
Thankfully Spencer had already dived into the water before you took off your summer dress and unsheathed the glorious body you were hiding underneath the fabric.
The water made for a great way to hide the erection that almost immediately grew when he saw you in that bathing suit.
He tried not to look at you, mostly because your parents were there and he was sure they wouldn’t be happy with him gawking over their daughter.
But he was in essence, a cold blooded male. He’d had a crush on you for about as long as he could remember, you’d grown up together, surely it was only inevitable?
But you were his best friend. You were the only real friend he’d ever had. And he didn’t want to ruin that by sexualising you. But god that would be so much easier to do if you weren’t so damn hot.
When had you stopped being the adorable girl next door who used to play with her pony toys in the front yard? When did you become this drop dead gorgeous woman standing before him in a scantily clad bathing suit?
You had changed since the last time he’d seen you in so little clothes. You’d developed curves in what Spencer thought was all the right places.
You looked up and your eyes met his and you gave him a bright smile that made him feel a little weak. You walked to the edge of the lake and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.
You walked with poise, a sense of a confidence Spencer could never muster. He watched as you dove into the water so gracefully, and re-emerge a few feet in front of him.
You pushed your wet hair off your face and waded closer to him, wiping the water from your eyes.
Spencer felt a lump forming in his throat the closer you got. His eyes betrayed him and they fell to your chest, the water droplets rolling over your skin shimmered in the sun.
How I want to lick those beads of water off your skin.
“You ok?” You laughed, coming to a stop in front of him.
“M-me? Y-yes why wouldn’t I b-be.” He stuttered at the close proximity he now found himself in to you. He could reach out and touch you. He could reach out and kiss you.
He did neither.
“Come here,” he raised your hands out of the water. “Your hair is going to get in your eyes.”
You gently stroked a strand of Spencer’s wet hair out of his face and it sent a shiver racing up his spine.
His cock was aching. He’d never been touched by a woman in such a way. He’d never been touched by a woman in any way and honestly it felt like he could blow his load just from you stroking back his hair.
“Much better.” You smiled at him, leaving him feeling a little downtrodden when you withdrew your hand.
“Uh thanks.” He croaked, feeling light headed.
“You’re welcome.”
For a moment the two of you stared at each other, eyes locked as though communicating subconsciously.
Spencer wanted to grab hold of you and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. He wanted to pull you close and feel your body pressed up against his own, run his fingers over your every curve.
He wanted his hands to get lost in your hair. He wanted to bury himself between your thighs. He wanted to feel you, to taste you.
Honestly you were thinking the same, he just didn’t know it. His white t-shirt cling to his skin now soaked in water and you could just make out the soft skin of his chest underneath. You wanted to run your hands over that skin, through his hair, over every part of his body.
You wanted to feel him inside of you, his fingers, his cock, anything. You wanted to stare deep into his eyes while he made you come.
All of a sudden Spencer snapped out of his trance before he did something to make a fool of himself.
“I’ll race you to the next dock!” He dove beneath the surface before you had time to register his words.
You watched him go, splashing a lot as he swam, gangly limbs flailing.
It took you a few seconds to pick your mind up out of the gutter and start swimming after him.
Being the much more adept swimmer, despite Spencer’s head start you managed to beat him to the next dock.
He was much more out of breath than you when he arrived.
“How did you get into the FBI again?” You laughed as he gripped hold of the dock for dear life.
“They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field.” He panted.
“Clearly.” You teased. “Ohh and look, we’re right by the jet ski hire!” You pulled yourself up on the dock and sat on the edge looking down at Spencer.
“You know I hate those things. Did you know there are around seven hundred jet ski related accidents every year which results in approximately forty deaths? I don’t like those odds, I’ll wait on the dock.”
He tried and failed to get out of the water and in the end you had to help hoist him up.
“No way, you're coming with me.” You stood up and pulled him to his feet as well.
“I most certainly am not.” He made the mistake of looking into your eyes. Those beautiful expressive eyes that could probably make him commit murder.
“Please?” You asked softly and he was like putty in your hands.
“F-fine.” He grumbled.
“Yay!” You squealed a little, throwing yourself into his arms.
Your body pressed up against his and he tentatively wrapped his arms around you.
Your wet bathing suit and his wet t-shirt clung to each other and he could feel your every curve.
Thankfully you pulled away before he got too excited. You took hold of his hand now and started leading him towards the hire booth.
Honestly he’d let you lead him anywhere.
***
Spencer was still shaking almost ten minutes after pulling up in the small alcove a way up the lake and dismounting the jet ski.
He’d enjoyed the close proximity with you it had involved but it didn’t make up for the sheer terror of your haphazard driving.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You laughed staring down at him as he laid on the grass.
“All I’ll say is, if you drove a car like that I would never let you drive me anywhere.”
“It’s a jet ski Einstein, they are supposed to go fast.” You nudged his ribs with your toe. “Get up, we need to head back.”
“I would literally rather swim back.” He groaned.
You rolled your eyes, nudging his ribs again.
“It’s probably almost a mile back, don’t be so dramatic.” You leant over him and took hold of his hands, pulling him into a sitting position. “How about you drive? That way we can go at a granny pace.”
“Funny.” He grumbled, getting to his feet. “But I will drive actually. I’d rather not die of a heart attack on this lake.”
You slid the rubber band over your hand that the key dangled from and tossed it at Spencer.
He flapped about trying to catch it and just managed to stop it falling to the floor.
You got in your positions on the jet ski. You wrapped yourself tighter around him than was necessary, your arms snaking around his waist and resting on his stomach.
Spencer shuddered but he hoped you would think it was due to the wind.
It could have been the wind but the timing seemed a little too convenient. Did your touch really have that effect on him? He’d never given you any indication that he liked you in that way, but could it be possible? Maybe you would have to test that out.
Spencer took a tentative breath and started the jet ski’s engine. You tightened your hold on him as it started moving.
Spencer was slow to start with just like you had assumed he would be. It was quite nice actually. You had a chance to revel in the way the water felt as it splashed onto your bare legs, the way the wind felt in your hair.
But mostly you were wrapped up in the way it felt to be this close to Spencer.
You pressed your chest into your back, making sure he could feel your breasts on him. You started by gently moving your fingers over the fabric of his t-shirt, round in little circles on his stomach.
As he picked up the speed a little you dared to let your fingers drop a little lower, over his hip bones. You felt him tense a little but due to the sound of the jet ski you didn’t hear the way his breath hitched at your touch.
You moved your hands again, your fingers gently grazing the waistband of his swim shorts.
Spencer practically jumped at your touch so near his crotch and he inadvertently swerved sharply, so sharply that it sent the two of you flying off the seat and crashing into the water.
The engine cut off when the key attached around Spencer’s wrist was yanked out with him.
You both broke the surface, spluttering a little.
“What the hell Spencer?” you pushed your hair back off your face. “Why did you do that?”
Because you have no idea how long I have wanted you to touch me like that.
“You uh...your...I don’t know. I just lost control I guess.” he didn’t want to tell you that your touch had sent him into a tailspin and he had completely lost his focus.
But you had a pretty good idea that was what had happened. And if that was the case, why? Why had your touch affected him in that way? Surely he did not feel for you the way you felt about him?
It couldn’t be possible. But it surely did seem that way.
“I’ll drive the rest of the way.” you told him, rather than pushing him. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
But you might have to test this more, maybe on stable ground.
You both climbed back up onto the jet ski, Spencer slightly less gracefully than you, and he handed you over the key.
You made it back to the jet ski hire with no further incident and Spencer was happy to be back on dry land. Although he did miss the closeness the jet ski brought.
“I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back ok?” Spencer told you while you returned your life vests.
“Sure, I’ll be here.” you gave him a soft smile.
He couldn’t help but give your body a once over again, it was accidental, he couldn’t stop himself. The feeling of your fingers on his waistband and your chest pressed up against his back were imprinted in his mind and by the time he reached the bathroom he was hard again.
Making sure there was no one else in the bathroom he shut himself in one of the cubicles. He leant against the closed door and exhaled a shaky breath.
It wouldn’t be the first time he had touched himself while thinking of you but this seemed dirty. This wasn’t the comfort of his own bedroom where no one would catch him.
But he knew he needed to take care of this otherwise it would plague him all day.
With another shaky breath he relieved himself from his swim shorts. He closed his eyes, taking his length in his hand and started stroking himself. He bit his lip hard to stem his moans as he pictured you in that sinful bathing suit.
He imagined your fingers moving from his waistband inside his pants and tried to imagine it was your fingers wrapped around him.
He was panting and mumbling your name in no time and it didn’t take long at all for him to come.
He cleaned himself up as well as the tiled floor he had dirtied before using the facilities and heading back outside.
God he hoped you wouldn’t see his deed written all over his face, he would be mortified.
But by the looks of it, you were too busy to notice anything.
The guy putting the moves on you was shorter than Spencer but much more broad and muscular. He had sun kissed skin and beach blonde hair. He had a charming smile and it was clearly working its magic on you.
Spencer approached slowly, you didn’t seem to notice. As he reached your side the man looked over at him with a frown.
“Can we help you?” he asked Spencer.
“Spence, hi.” you smiled at him before turning all your attention back on the other man. “Greg, this is my best friend Spencer. Spencer, this is Greg.”
Best friend, of course, because that’s how you saw him. Friends. Only ever friends.
You hadn’t had any intention of talking to someone while Spencer was gone but when Greg had approached you, you engaged in friendly conversation.
He was attractive, sure, but in your eyes he had nothing on Spencer.
But there was something in Spencer’s eyes that looked a lot like jealousy. Maybe you could use Greg to your advantage?
“Greg invited us to a party at the lake tonight.” you spoke when neither man said anything.
“I actually invited you to a party.” Greg corrected you.
“Oh.” Spencer squeaked a little.
“I’m only coming if Spencer does.” You told Greg with a seductive smile.
Greg smiled at you and stepped a little closer.
“How can I say no to a face like yours.” He ran his finger over your cheek and Spencer wanted to smack him. “I’ll see you tonight babe.” He winked at you before sauntering away.
“He seems like a complete jackass.” Spencer grumbled once Greg was out of ear shot.
“You didn’t even speak to him.” You frowned at your friend.
“Neither did you, not really. I was only gone five minutes. I don’t think we should go to that party.”
“And why not?” You folded your arms over your chest.
“Because we don’t know him. He could be some creep for all we know.”
“I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you.” You stepped closer to Spencer making him swallow. “Are you jealous Spencer?”
“W-what?” He croaked. “Jealous? W-why would I be j-jealous?”
It was written all over his face. He was jealous.
“I don’t know Spence, you tell me.” You stepped even closer to him now, so close he could feel your breath on his face.
You let your hands drop to your side.
“Do you want me for yourself Spencer? Because you know all you’d have to do is ask.”
Good god, what are you doing to me?
Of course he wanted you all to himself, it’s all he’d ever wanted. But that didn’t change the fact you were his best friend and you were moving to different states.
Telling you he wanted you was completely pointless.
“Of course not.” He tried to scoff, forcing himself to step back away from you. “If you want Greg that’s fine by me.”
“Fine.” You spat.
“Fine.” Spencer mirrored.
And with that you turned on your heels and stormed away.
Maybe you’d been wrong after all. Of course Spencer didn’t like you. What a stupid thought that had been.
***
That night your dad allowed you and a very reluctant Spencer to use his car to head back to the lake and meet Greg and his friends.
You and Spencer hadn’t said much of anything to each other since that afternoon but if your parents had noticed they didn’t say anything.
You felt foolish for thinking he could have possibly been jealous. Of course there was no way the brilliant Spencer Reid looked at you that way. There was no way he would deem you smart enough or interesting enough.
It had clearly all been in your head. Or so you thought.
But of course it hadn’t.
Spencer had wanted to scream at you that of course he was jealous and of course he wanted you all to himself, but he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. There was no way he was confessing his feelings for you. He’d done a good job of keeping them hidden up until now and he certainly wasn’t going to let Greg be the reason he told you.
He would take his feelings for you to the grave. It was easier that way. It was easier than ruining your friendship.
You drove to the lake in stifled silence. Normally small talk wasn’t an issue for the two of you, you could talk about anything and everything for hours on end. But for the first time, neither of you had anything to say to one another.
Thankfully it wasn’t a long drive to the lake and you pulled up soon enough and exited the car as soon as you shut off the engine.
Spencer sighed loudly once alone in the car. This was the last time the two of you would be together in god knows how long and you were in a fight already on the first day of the trip.
He didn’t think the two of you had ever fought, not properly anyway. Was this a fight? Spencer wasn’t even sure. He hoped not. He spent a few minutes alone in the car just collecting himself.
He got out of the car and followed in your footsteps. You were already down by a bonfire near the lake edge with none other than Greg. Greg had his arm around your shoulders as he handed you a bottle of beer which you took with a smile.
Spencer took a deep breath before heading towards you. He really didn’t want to be a third wheel with the two of you but he also didn’t have the kind of confidence it took to go and talk to new people.
Third wheel it is.
“Hi,” you barely acknowledged him as he joined you and Greg and if Spencer wasn’t mistaken you moved your body closer to Greg.
He gave you a half-smile and nodded in Greg’s direction.
“Can I get you a beer?” Greg asked him.
“No thanks. One of us is going to have to drive back and looks like that’s going to be me.” Spencer shrugged, trying not to sound annoyed but he clearly did because he saw you roll your eyes.
“Want to take a walk Greg?” you smiled at the other man who gave your shoulders a squeeze as he eyed you up and down.
“I would love that.” he chuckled and before Spencer knew it he was leading you away from him.
It had been all of two minutes and you had already abandoned him. Great.
He turned away from the lake and started back up towards the car assuming he would just wait for you there while you were off doing god knows what with Greg.
He made his way towards the car but didn’t get very far before someone ran into him, knocking him to the floor.
“Ow.” he groaned as he hit the ground, someone landing roughly on top of him.
“Oh my gosh, I am so, so sorry!” she pushed herself off of him, standing up before holding out a hand to help him.
Spencer took it and allowed the stranger to pull him to his feet.
“I was chasing after a frisbee and I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you ok?” she was smiling sweetly at him and Spencer couldn’t help but think it was a very pretty smile.
Maybe not as pretty as yours but pretty in its own right.
“It’s ok.” he told her, shaking it off. “These things happen. I’m uh...I’m Spencer.”
She smiled again and nodded.
“Rose.” she replied. “Would you care to join me for a drink Spencer?”
“You know what?” Spencer smiled. “I don’t mind if I do.”
***
You and Greg had walked further up the lake and found a spot near the water's edge to sit. It didn’t take long before his lips were on yours and his fingers were in your hair.
It was...nice. It was nothing special but it was ok. And you couldn’t help but wish it was Spencer’s lips pressed against your own.
When Greg’s hands moved from your hair down to your breasts, palming them through your top a little roughly, you pushed him back.
“Nuh uh.” you shook your head frowning at him. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh come on babe, we’re just having a little fun.”
“We can have fun without you groping me.” you picked up your beer bottle and swigged from it.
“I didn’t peg you as a prude Y/N.” he raised an eyebrow at you.
“Because I’m not. I prefer the term selective.” you scoffed.
He didn’t take your reluctance as a no however and he moved in again, his lips latching on to your neck and his hand finding your thigh.
He moved his hand higher up your bare leg, over your denim shorts and soon his fingers were toying with the button.
Once again you pushed him, harder than before.
“Hey asshole.” you spat. “I said no.”
He rolled his eyes, picking up his own beer, downing the contents and then tossing it away.
“You’re a drag.” he groaned. “Is this because of that pipe cleaner friend of yours?”
“No.” you pushed yourself up from the ground, grabbing your beer. “This has nothing to do with Spencer. I just don’t like pushy men who think they’re god's gift to women.”
You turned away from him and started back towards the bonfire you could see burning brightly in the distance.
“Girls like you are a dime a dozen.” he called after you.
You flipped him the bird over your shoulder but you didn’t turn back to look at him.
“Asshole.” you muttered to yourself.
You should have listened to Spencer, he’d always been a good judge of character. Maybe you’d have to apologise to him.
You made your way back to the bonfire to find him and make up but you didn’t have to look far.
He was sitting on one of the logs next to the fire but he wasn’t alone.
He had a petite redhead sitting in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck. And her lips were hungrily exploring his.
“Oh god.” you felt like you’d just been kicked in the chest, like all the air had been forced from your lungs.
You lost your grip on the beer bottle and it fell to the ground.
His hands were gently on her hips, holding her place while he explored her mouth.
Your tears came out of nowhere, alarming you as they started heavily cascading down your cheeks.
Just as a sob wracked your body, you took off running up the bank and towards the car.
You couldn’t watch anymore. Seeing Spencer kiss that girl made your heart feel like it was shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.
You got back in the car and sobbed. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Spencer and that girl, locking lips.
And all you could think was, it should be me.
***
“Sorry if that was really forward of me.” Rose blushed a little when the kiss ended.
Spencer was blushing too, but he had been since their lips first touched.
“I-it’s o-ok.” he stuttered, completely baffled by what had just happened. “I-it was n-nice.”
“I hope it was a little more than nice.” Rose giggled.
But it wasn’t. It was simply nice. It was a nice kiss but it wasn’t with you. He’d kissed girls before but it never felt quite right. And he knew it was because he wasn’t kissing you.
He didn’t speak, he couldn’t find the right words to say.
Rose’s face fell a little and she slid off Spencer’s lap onto the log next to him.
“I know that look.” she chewed her lip. “That’s the look of a guy who is thinking about someone else.”
He wanted to argue with her but it seemed pointless.
“I’m sorry.” He shrugged pathetically. “You’re beautiful and you have no idea how much I wish I wasn’t thinking about someone else. But I am. I always am.”
“It’s ok.” She placed her hand gently on his knee. “It was nice to meet you Spencer.” She pushed herself up from the log.
“You too Rose.” He stood too, needing to find you before you did anything stupid with Greg.
Just as he had this thought, Greg came wandering towards the bonfire alone.
“Where’s Y/N?” Spencer rushed over to him.
“How should I know?” Greg scoffed. “That girl is a cock tease. Not worth my time.”
“Don’t say that.” Spencer practically whined, making Greg chuckle.
“What are you gonna do about it?” Greg snarled at him.
“I uh...I need to find Y/N.” He changed the subject. He did not want to get into a fight because he would most certainly lose.
“Whatever.” Greg scoffed, turning away from Spencer.
Spencer scanned the crowds but couldn’t see you, he knew he’d be able to pick you out of any crowd.
He practically sprinted back to the car, hoping to find you there and as luck would have it, there you were in the driver's seat.
But even in the dark he could see that you were crying.
He ran to the passenger door and flung it open.
“Oh my god Y/N, what’s wrong?” He threw his arms around you, pulling you closer over the console.
“Get off me.” You pushed him away, sniffing back your tears.
“What’s wrong? What did Greg do?” He asked clearly not noticing your hostility towards him.
You sighed, not wanting to tell your best friend you were crying over seeing him kiss another girl, you shook your head, fixing your seatbelt in place.
“Nothing. I just want to forget all about tonight.” You started the engine.
“O-ok.” Spencer chewed his lip.
Neither of you spoke again on the drive back to the campsite or once you were back in your pod.
You slipped into the bed and Spencer in his sleeping bag on the floor.
Neither of you got much sleep that night, you both had too much on your mind. Namely, being in love with your best friends who were seemingly oblivious.
***
The next morning when you awoke you decided today was a new day. You weren’t going to allow yourself to spend the whole trip being mad at Spencer.
You’d never seen him with a girl before, it had been a shock. But he was twenty two, he must have had girlfriends before you guess he’d just chosen not to tell you. And it wasn’t as though you’d never been with a man.
You resided yourself to the fact that you and Spencer were destined to be friends and that was ok. At least it would be ok. It had to be.
You knelt down on the floor next to his sleeping bag and watched him for a second. He was sound asleep, his breathing soft and even. His plump lips were parted ever so slightly and his hair was draped over the pillow. His eyelashes grazed the skins under his eyes.
Maybe it would be a little harder than you thought to just see him as a friend.
Suddenly his eyes fluttered open and landed on you.
He frowned a little, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.
“Uh...good morning.” He croaked, voice riddled with sleep. “Were you staring at me while I slept?”
“No.” You scoffed, standing back up. “I was just wondering if I could free your hand and put it in a glass of water, see if that peeing thing really works.” You started rummaging through one of your bags to hide your blush from Spencer.
“Mature.” He laughed a little as he sat up. “Hey Y/N, are you ok?”
You took a few deep breaths and turned back to him with a large, fake smile on your lips.
“I’m great.” You beamed. “Now get up sleepy head, we’re going for a hike!”
And with that you took your clothes and stepped over him, undoing the front of the tent pod and disappearing.
Spencer ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.
He wished falling out of love with you was as easy as it had been falling in love with you.
Not being in love with his best friend would make his life so much easier. But life never was good to Spencer.
***
Spencer loved your family but you were all much more athletic than he could ever hope to be. After a five mile hike, Spencer was exhausted. Sweat made his shirt cling to his body and his hair stick to his forehead.
When your mom had suggested stopping for the picnic she had packed, he was more than happy to oblige.
He practically fell to the grass on his back, panting and sweating.
“If it wasn’t for that huge brain of yours there is no way you would have gotten into the FBI.” you laughed as you flopped down next to him.
“Be nice Y/N.” your mom scalded you to which you rolled your eyes.
Your mom set some food while your dad poured glasses of soda for you all. You spent an hour sitting in the sunshine eating while Spencer worked on getting his breath back.
They still had a five mile walk back.
Spencer found himself stealing glances at you as you ate, like he usually did. He never grew tired of watching you.
You were wearing cargo pants and a vest top. His eyes caressed the side of your neck and the curve of your shoulder and your collarbone. Your skin glistened a little from the heat.
His eyes grazed up to the side of your face and the stray strand of hair that fell onto your face. He wanted to lean in and tuck behind your ear but that seemed too intimate.
He must have been watching you for a long time because when he resurfaced from his thoughts your mom was packing up what was left of the picnic.
“Spence and I will make our way back.” You stood up and brushed down the back of your cargo pants.
“Don’t get lost.” You dad shot you a sarcastic look.
“We’ll be fine. Come on Spence.” You encouraged to which he stood too.
“See you later.” He waved at your parents before following where you had already started walking.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” He asked once he caught up with you.
“No idea.” You shrugged.
“Oh good, just what I want. To get lost in the woods with you.” He rolled his eyes.
“Yeah I’m sure you’d much rather get lost in the woods with that redhead from last night, right?” The bitterness was seeping from your words.
Spencer stopped in his tracks.
“Uh...what redhead?” He tried to lie, he didn’t know what you’d seen so he didn’t want to give away too much.
“Don’t play dumb Spencer.” You stopped too so you could look at him. “The one who was cosied up on your lap, eating your face.”
“Oh. That redhead.” He chewed his lip. “I uh...didn’t realise you saw that.”
“Well I did.” You shrugged. “Looked like you were having fun.”
“It w-was...she was nice I guess.”
“Good.” You spat a little more harshly than you’d meant to.
Spencer frowned, stepping closer to you, leaves crunching under foot.
“Are you annoyed?”
“What? No. Why would I be annoyed?” You scoffed, giving him your best eye roll.
“You seem annoyed.”
“Well I’m not.”
“Good. Because you wouldn’t have any right to be.” It was like he was poking a bear with a stick. He was trying to get a rise out of you.
“And why wouldn’t I?” It was working, you were rising to it.
“Because you left me alone while you went off to do god knows what with Greg. I had to pass the time somehow.”
“By sticking your tongue down some random girl's throat?”
“I’m sure you were doing much more with him.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You growled, stepping closer to him now.
“You know exactly what that means.” He stepped closer to you too, as though you were challenging each other.
“You really think I was off fucking him?” You raised your voice. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Weren’t you?” He shrugged.
“I most certainly was not! He tried to get fresh with me and I pushed him away. He was a jackass! And then I come back to find you making out with that girl!”
“So you are annoyed about that?”
“Yes, happy? Yes I am annoyed about that.” You yelled.
Spencer closed the space between you but you stepped backwards away from him. He backed you into a tree where you collided with the bark.
He put his hands either side of your head pinning you in place.
Where had this side of him come from?
“Why are you annoyed Y/N?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do.”
“No I don’t.” You tried to insist but you knew he could see right through you.
“Tell me. Tell me why you’re annoyed with me for Christ sakes Y/N! What did I do that was so wrong? I was just having some fun.”
“Without me.” You pouted.
“I can’t have fun without you?”
“No, it’s not that.” You shook your head, very conscious of how close Spencer was to you.
“So what is it then? Tell me.”
“I don’t like seeing you with another girl ok?” You raised your voice again.
“But I have to see you with another man?”
“I offered myself to you Spencer. I said all you had to do was ask. You said no. What was I supposed to think?”
“Y-you…you meant that?” His facade faltered and his hands fell to his sides.
“Of course I did.” You spat.
“You...you…” he swallowed.
“It should have been me you were kissing. Asshole.” You mumbled pathetically.
Spencer didn’t know what came over him at that moment but he couldn’t hold back.
He took your face in his hands and pushed you back against the tree trunk before pressing his lips to yours.
For a moment you kissed him back but then your anger returned and suddenly you were pushing him away.
“Stop it!” You yelled. “It’s too little too late Spencer. I don’t want to be your second choice. I don’t want you after she’s had you.”
“S-second choice? Y/N you could never be my-“
“Save it.” You pushed passed him and started walking again. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We need to get back before it starts getting dark.”
You didn’t know what had come over you. All you’d ever wanted was to feel Spencer’s lips on yours. But when he kissed you, all you could think of was that redhead from last night.
And it broke your heart all over again.
***
“Spence?” You whispered into the dark. “Spence are you awake?”
It had been a long, awkward walk back followed by a long, awkward evening back at the campsite with your parents.
You and Spencer had said barely two words to each other before you called for an early night and crawled into your bed.
“Yeah I’m awake.” He whispered in reply from the floor.
“I’m...I’m really cold.” You felt foolish but you were freezing, you couldn’t seem to warm up.
And the only thing you could think that would help would be Spencer’s warm body next to you.
You heard him sigh followed by some rustling. Then you saw his silhouette beside the bed.
“You want me to warm you up?” He asked softly.
“If it’s not...too much to ask.” You didn’t deserve him being kind to you but that was the thing about Spencer, he was always there when you needed him. No matter what.
He sighed again before lifting the covers and sliding into the bed.
“Come here.” He held his arm open for you and you slid closer to him, his arm wrapping around your waist and you rested your head on his chest.
As suspected, he was radiating warmth. You snuggled into him sighing in content. He ran his fingers up and down your side.
“I’m sorry about earlier Y/N.” he spoke into your hair.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you, not like that. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry.”
You shifted a little so you could look up at him.
“I’m the one who should be sorry, Spence. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I just...I don’t like the way I felt seeing you with that girl.”
“It didn’t feel great for me seeing you with Greg either.” he cupped your face with his free hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb.
“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, Spence.” a tear escaped your eye. “You’re my best friend and I don’t want to do anything to change that. But I can’t pretend that it didn’t hurt to see you with another girl. And I suppose that means I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship. But I can’t lose my best friend Spence.” a few more tears fell and Spencer tried to wipe them away with his thumb.
“I know Y/N, me too.” He agreed, chewing his lip.
You settled back into his chest and he tightened his hold on you. If this was as close as he could have you then he was going to soak in every moment.
Eventually you both fell asleep, into peaceful slumbers brought on by being wrapped in each other’s embraces.
***
For the rest of the week you and Spencer avoided unnecessary touches and glances each other’s way.
You tried to act normal. You tried to act like you hadn’t kissed and spent the night in each other’s arms.
You knew your parents suspected something was amiss with the two of you, you weren’t quite as pally as you usually were but neither of them said anything.
You spent days at the lake, you went for hikes and sat around the campfire in the evenings as the sunset around you.
On your final night your parents retired to their pod but you remained sitting on one of the logs, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.
“Are you coming to bed?” Spencer asked you softly.
“Not yet, I might watch the stars for a while.”
“Want company?” He smiled at you and you nodded.
He laid his own blanket out of the ground and motioned for you to come over.
You laid side by side on your backs and you draped your blanket over the top of you both as you stared up at the sky.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving for DC when we get back.” You sniffed back any tears that might fall. “I have to spend the rest of the summer at home without you.”
“You’ll be off to college in a few weeks. You’ll forget all about me.”
You rolled your head to the side and he did the same so you were looking at each other.
“Spence, I could never forget you.” You reached for his hand and entwined your fingers.
He sighed in content at your touch. It was the most physical contact you’d had in almost a week.
“I’m going to miss you so much.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.
“I’m going to miss you too Spence.”
You laid like that under the stars, just staring into each other’s eyes for some time. There were so many things you both wanted to say but nothing seemed good enough.
Somehow you ended up closer together on the blanket, you’re not sure how it happened. You weren’t sure if you’d moved closer or if Spencer had or maybe you both had, but somehow you ended up with barely a few inches between your faces.
You could feel his soft breath on your face and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his lips. That kiss had burned itself into your brain and you couldn’t believe you’d pushed him away before you got to really enjoy it.
“Spence,” you whispered after a long stretch of silence.
“Yes Y/N?”
“All you have to do is ask.” You repeated what you’d said to him at the lake your first day.
He knew exactly what you meant and it made his chest tighten at the mere thought.
“Y/N?” He whispered, edging even closer to you.
“Yes?”
“Can I...c-can I kiss you?” He stuttered.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t Spence.”
He let go of your hand so he could cup your cheek and slowly closed the small space between you.
This time when your lips met it was slow and soft. You revelled in the feeling of his plump, pillowy lips pressed against yours for a moment before you cautiously parted your lips.
Spencer was tentative in his movements as though you may push him away again at any moment.
But of course you didn’t. He slid his tongue in your mouth and started exploring you, slowly at first but soon an animal instinct took over.
He explored your mouth hungrily, holding your face delicately in his large hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and helped him roll on top of you.
He was hard already, you could feel it pressing against you and you knew a kiss wasn’t going to be enough.
You played with his hair, tugging it a little and he moaned into your mouth, subconsciously grinding his hips into yours.
You dared to let your hands roam his back until you reached the hem of his hoodie and slipped your hands under the fabric.
He moaned again at the feeling of your hands on the skin of his back. It spurred you on to rake your nails lightly over his flesh. You were met with another hard roll of his hips.
The kiss ended so you could both gasp for the air that had left your lungs. Spencer chewed his lip nervously, scared of what might happen next.
“Should w-we uh...do you want to go into t-the tent?” he was so unsure of himself. He didn’t want to sound as though he was being presumptive.
“No,” you whispered, but you were smiling. “I want to stay out here.”
“B-but your parents…”
“Sleep like logs.” you laughed, stroking back his hair. “Spencer, I want you to make love to me under the stars. Do you think that’s something...something you can d-do?” you suddenly felt nervous telling him what you wanted. Maybe that’s not what he wanted? Maybe it was just a kiss?
But the hiss that slipped from his lips told you it was exactly what he wanted.
“I-I...there is n-nothing in the world I want m-more.” he swallowed. “B-but I...I’ve never...done this before.” his cheeks turned crimson in an instant.
Your heart swelled. You had no idea. You assumed Spencer was just quiet about his exploits. You had no idea he’d never been with a woman before.
“Oh,” you didn’t really know what to say. “Is this...have you ever pictured, you know, what your uh...first time would be like?”
His blush deepened and he gnawed heavily on his lip.
“All the time.” he confessed. “And it’s always with you.”
“Kiss me Spence.” you smiled at him, pulling him closer again by his neck.
Your lips met again but this time it was much more frantic and desperate, now you both knew exactly where this was going.
You hooked your fingers under the hem of his hoodie and pulled it up his body. He sat back so he could pull it over his head.
“T-shirt too.” you told him with a smirk while he was sat up.
He looked a little nervous but he complied. In all the years you’d known Spencer you didn’t think you’d ever seen him shirtless before. He was always conservative, insecure about how skinny he was. But in that moment he didn’t have time to worry about his insecurities, all he wanted was you and that was all that mattered.
He discarded the items of clothing, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Your eyes raked up and down his torso and soon your fingers followed suit, running over his flesh. He hissed again, telling you he liked it.
“W-what about you?” you swallowed nervously.
“What about me?” you smirked. You knew what he meant but you wanted to hear him say it.
“Y-you uh...can I...your dress?” he was blushing again and it was so adorable.
“Spencer, you can do whatever you like to me.” your voice was dripping with seduction and it made his cock twitch achingly. Oh how he’d dreamed of this moment.
His hands were shaking as he reached for the bottom of your dress. He was slow to raise the fabric, making sure you weren’t going to change your mind.
He inched it up your thighs and paused when he got it to your hips. The black pair of lace panties you wore underneath made his head spin.
“Oh gosh.” he panted a little as he spoke.
You smiled, arching your back so he could continue undressing you. Inch by inch the fabric got higher and higher, revealing more of your body.
Once you had discarded the dress, Spencer sat back again to take you all in. Your panties had a matching bra, cupping your breasts magnificently.
“Do you like what you see, Spence?”
“Are you kidding?” He smiled. “You are perfection Y/N.”
You raked your nails down his chest once more and came to a stop at the waistband of his trousers. You toyed with the button a little.
“Can I?” You whispered.
He chewed his lip and nodded.
You unbuttoned his trousers and tugged them over his hips. He wriggled out of them and tossed them in a pile with the rest of the clothes.
His cock was straining at the front of his boxers, begging to be freed.
You allowed yourself to palm him through his underwear. His head fell back and he moaned deeply.
“Oh gosh.” He panted. “I’m sorry, no ones ever touched me like this before.”
You smiled to yourself, loving that no other woman had been here before. But you could also tell if you were to touch him properly, he wouldn’t last to the main event.
You moved your hand to his wrist and guided his hand between your legs instead.
You panties were soaked already.
He looked at you with large, uncertain eyes, but you nodded in encouragement.
“Please Spencer?”
He swallowed.
“What if I’m no good.” He whined a little.
“It’s ok baby,” you cooed. “You could never make me feel anything other than amazing.”
You let go of his wrist and his fingers shakily played with the lace fabric.
He took a few deep breaths before he moved the fabric aside enough so he could get to your heat.
He was so cautious with his movements, trying to ensure he was doing everything right.
He’d read books. He’d watched porn. But he’d never had the real thing.
He started slow, circling your clit with his fingertip in gentle movements. It was enough to make several moans leave your parted lips and he took that as a good sign.
You pulled him down by his neck so you could kiss him again and his confidence built a little, moving his fingers faster between your legs.
“Oh god Spence,” you mumbled into his lips. “That feels so good baby.”
Spencer felt a swell of pride that he was able to make you feel good, but he wanted more, needed more.
“Y/N,” he panted. “C-can I...can we…”
“Yes Spence. God yes.” You kissed him again and he reluctantly removed his hand from between your legs.
You arched your back and unhooked your bra.
His mouth fell open at the sight of your breasts and he moaned viscerally.
You smiled, taking hold of both of his wrists now and placing his large hands on your breasts.
“F-fuck.” He moaned feeling you beneath his hands. “Jeez Y/N.”
You laughed, now working on sliding your panties down your legs.
Spencer gave your breasts a small squeeze, tweaking your nipples a little between his fingers.
You moved your hands to his hips and cautiously slid his boxers down his hips. You couldn’t stop the small moan that left your lips as you freed his erect member.
“Fuck Spence,” you groaned eyeing him up.
He removed his hands from your breasts so he could shimmy his boxers off.
He laid back down on top of you, his cock nestling between your legs. He kissed you softly, stroking back your hair.
“Y/N, I need to tell you something before w-we...you know…”
“You can tell me anything.” you encouraged him.
“Y/N, I have been in l-love with you for as long as I can remember. I need you t-to know that. I need you to know h-how inconceivably in love with you I am.”
You felt tears spring to your eyes at his words. You pulled him close for another kiss.
“Spencer, I love you too baby.” you whispered, making him sigh in relief.
“I have waited so long to hear you say that.”
“You should have asked.” You smirked, kissing him again. “Are you ready baby?”
He nodded with a deep breath. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he kept his eyes firmly on yours he slowly pushed his way inside of you.
His eyes widened and his jaw fell slack. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the way you felt. Honestly, he almost came as soon as your tight heat was sheathed around him.
He pushed all the way inside you, filling you up beautifully. He paused to take a few steadying breaths.
“Are you ok?” You traced your finger along his bottom lip.
“Yeah,” he panted. “I just need a minute. I don’t want to uh…f-finish too soon.” He blushed.
“Take your time Spence.” You smiled lovingly at him.
He took a few more breaths and captured your lips in a kiss before he started moving slowly.
He was careful in his movements, slow and gentle as though you were made of glass.
He withdrew almost all the way, before slowly plunging back inside you.
His eyes rolled back in his head and the two of you moaned together under the starry sky.
“Jesus Y/N.” He gasped. “This f-feels so...so…”
“I know Spence,” you kissed him harder, messily exploring his mouth, your hands roaming his body and he moved in and out of you.
“I’m r-really not g-gonna…l-last long.” He spoke into your lips.
“Touch me again Spence. I want to come with you.”
He exhaled, moving his hand between your bodies and his fingers started circling your clit once more as he continued his slow thrusts.
The feeling of being inside you was otherworldly. Spencer had never dreamed in a million years it would feel this magical.
He wanted it to last forever. He never wanted this end. If he could feel one thing for the rest of his life he wanted it to be you wrapped around his dick.
He was getting closer and closer to the edge but now his fingers were working deftly on you, so you were you.
You found it hard to believe he’d never done this before because he was amazing at it. He seemed to know just what to do to bring you to your orgasm.
“I’m s-sorry Y/N…I can’t...I’m g-gonna…”
“Me too Spence.”
Hearing you moan his name was all he could take and with one last thrust, Spencer came, filling you with his load.
You came too, clenching around his spasming cock.
He fell on top of you, panting and moaning into your neck.
You wrapped him in your arms and kissed his messy hair.
“God damn Spencer,” you panted. “That was incredible.”
“R-really?” He lifted his head so he could look at you.
“Absolutely.” You held his face and kissed him gently. “I love you Spencer.”
“I love you too Y/N. So much.”
“Shall we go to bed?”
“Five more minutes under the stars?” He asked to which you nodded.
He gently pulled out of you and rolled onto his back on the blanket. You curled into him, resting your head on his chest.
He wrapped one arm around you and held your hand tightly.
“Beautiful isn’t it?” You sighed sleepily, looking up at the night sky.
“Not half as beautiful as you Y/N.”
***
It didn’t take long at all for you both to fall asleep like that. Thankfully you woke up before your parents and managed to sneak back into your tent before they found you.
Your dad would have a coronary if he found the two of you like that.
The drive back was long, it seemed longer than on the way. Maybe because you knew your time together was coming to an end.
Tomorrow Spencer would be leaving for DC and who knows when you would next see each other again.
At least you had your night together under the stars.
You were both exhausted when you arrived home so retired to your own homes to rest, Spencer promising to come and see you before he left the following morning.
Your night together had been magical, but the air between you was now stifled. It was what Spencer feared most. Giving into his urges had probably ruined your friendship.
And now he was leaving and didn’t have time to make it up to you.
As promised he showed up at your front door the following morning, his car already packed up.
You stepped out onto the porch and closed the front door behind you.
“I can’t believe you’re really leaving.” you wrapped your arms around your body as though shielding yourself from the pain that was going to be caused.
“I know, me either. I never imagined leaving Vegas, not permanently anyway.” he shrugged sadly.
“Don’t forget about me when you’re a hot shot in the FBI, Agent Reid.” you gave him a half smile.
“You and I both know it’s Doctor Reid.” he tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sigh. “Look Y/N, I need to know. After what happened the other night…”
“Spence-”
“Where do we stand Y/N?” he cut you off. “What...what are we?”
You sighed heavily and tried to smile even though your heart was breaking.
“We’re best friends, Spence.” you shrugged. “Always.”
“Best friends.” he muttered sadly. “That’s what I thought.”
“Spencer, we’re moving to different parts of the country, I’m not sure exactly what you thought that night was.”
No, neither am I.
“What was it to you?” he said instead.
“I guess...it was a perfect way to say goodbye.”
Spencer couldn’t keep his resolve any longer and his tears broke free, falling down his cheeks.
“Of course. Goodbye.” he whispered.
“Spence, please don’t cry.” you reached for him but he stepped out of your touch.
“I need to uh...g-get going. It’s a long drive to Quantico.” he rubbed the palms of his hands heavily over his eyes.
“Spence,”
“Really, I n-need to go.” he turned away from you and jogged down the front steps of your house and down the path.
“Spencer, please don’t leave like this.” you called after him, dangerously close to tears yourself.
“Goodbye Y/N.” he turned back to you when he reached the front gate. “I’ll always love you.” he sniffed but before you could say anything more, he was gone.
He ran to his car and seconds later he was inside and you were watching him pull away.
You fell to the ground on the porch and you sobbed. What else could you possibly do? You’d lost your best friend and the love of your life in one fell swoop.
All because of one stupid night under the stars.
Ask the stars up in the sky,
Ask the stars they’ll tell you why.
Stars know ev’ry little thing you do,
There’s a little star that’s watching you.
Ask the stars when you’re with me,
Ask the stars then watch and see.
***
Quantico, Virginia - 2020
Seventeen years seem to pass almost in the blink of an eye. One day Spencer was walking into the BAU for the first time and seemingly the next he was almost forty with a lifetime of trauma behind him.
He thought about you every single day for the longest time. He wondered what you were doing with your life. Were you happy? Had you met someone and got married? Had kids?
Honestly he probably still thought about you every day of his life until he met Maeve.
Maeve was a wonderful reprieve from thoughts of you, and for the first time in almost ten years you hadn’t been the first thought on his mind when he woke in the morning.
But he’d never loved her the way he loved you. It was probably for the best that he and Maeve never got to be together properly because it would have inevitably ended when he couldn’t give her his whole heart.
No, he’d left a piece of that in Vegas years ago.
After Maeve he thought about you from time to time but not everyday like he once had. When he was incarcerated he thought about you a lot. He wondered what you think of him if you could see him sitting in that cell, becoming a man he didn’t recognise. Surely you wouldn’t recognise him either.
Then he met Max and once again he thought maybe, just maybe he would finally be able to give his heart to someone else. But his hopes were dashed. They dated for a few months but she always knew there was someone else. Someone else occupied his mind and his heart and it wasn’t fair on Max to stay with her in the hopes that one day he might be able to love her like he loved you.
You hadn’t fared much better in the love department.
You met a man in college and the two of you married at the tender age of twenty one. You knew you were over compensating. You knew this wasn’t the man you were supposed to be with. But he helped take your mind off your lost love and you were sure in time you would stop thinking about Spencer all together.
But of course you didn’t.
The marriage lasted three years and you were divorced soon after your twenty fourth birthday. There had been other men over the years, but none lasted very long.
They scratched an itch. They filled a void in your life that had existed since Spencer walked out. But inevitably you couldn’t commit so each one ended quicker than the last.
You stayed in Vegas all those years, maybe hoping one day Spencer would come back to you, but of course that had been foolish. Spencer was off living his own life, he probably hadn’t given you a second thought in years.
And then, at the age of thirty five, the job offer came that changed everything.
***
“It’s so quiet around here.” Luke mused as he and Spencer walked through the bullpen.
“Yeah I know what you mean. How is Garcia getting on at her new job?”
“She’s enjoying it but she misses the BAU.”
“Tell her we miss her too. Isn’t her replacement meant to be starting today?”
“She is and she’s settling into her new office.” Emily’s voice caught Spencer and Luke’s attention.
“I guess we should go and introduce ourselves.” Luke shrugged.
“Sure,” Spencer shrugged too and the two of them made their way out of the bullpen towards Garcia’s old office.
“I bet it’s going to be so drab.” Luke laughed.
“No more unicorn mugs or fluffy pens.” Spencer agreed.
“Penelope is one of a kind.”
“Undoubtedly.” Spencer swiped his card on the door and pushed the door handle before stepping into the office, Luke just behind him.
“You must be our new technical analyst.” Luke spoke as the door closed behind the two agents.
The woman sat in Garcia’s old chair tapping on the keys turned in the chair to face them.
She seemed to move in slow motion.
“I’m SSA Luke Alvez and this is Doctor-”
“Spencer Reid.” she cut him off, the words falling from her lips.
“Y/N Y/L/N.” Spencer croaked, glaring at the woman in front of him as if he’d seen a ghost.
Luke frowned looking between the two of them who seemed to have forgotten his presence.
Spencer and Y/N stared at each other without saying a word. Spencer’s chest tightened, constricting his breathing. Was he having a heart attack? Was this how he was going to die?
“You uh, know each other?” Luke spoke up.
“Uh...did know each other.” you croaked not tearing your eyes away from Spencer.
“A long time ago.” Spencer added, not looking away from you either.
Sensing the tension in the room, Luke backed up towards the door.
“Maybe I should let the two of you get reacquainted.” he said but neither of you acknowledged him.
He pushed his way back into the hall just as JJ was heading his way.
“Hey, I was just coming to meet the new tech analyst.” she smiled at him.
“I would give it a minute.” Luke told her, making her frown.
“Why?”
“There’s a lot of unfinished business in that room, trust me.” he put his arm around her shoulders to lead her away from the door.
“Spencer and the new Garcia?”
“Yeah.” Luke sighed. “If my profiling skills are accurate, I would say they were in love once. Probably still are.”
Back inside Garcia’s old office, you and Spencer were still staring at each other.
“I had no idea you still worked here, I swear. I wouldn’t have taken the job if I’d known.” you chewed your lip awkwardly.
“You look different.” he spoke as though ignoring what you’d said.
“Well yes, it has been a long time Spencer.”
“Seventeen years, three months and fifteen days.”
“Precisely.” you frowned at his recall. “I’m not eighteen anymore.”
“No and I’m not twenty two.” he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
It was longer now, curlier and messier. He sported stubble on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’d gained weight, somehow gotten even taller you were sure.
He was most certainly not the twenty two year old Spencer Reid you had spent a night with under the stars.
“You look different too. Good different.” you told him.
“A lifetime of trauma will probably do that.” he nodded stiffly.
“Spencer? Strange question for you…”
“Yeah?”
“Did you uhm...did you ever tell Penelope about...that night.” you felt yourself blushing.
Spencer closed his eyes for a moment with a sigh.
He hadn’t been this drunk in a really long time. Maybe ever. Spencer never had been a big drinker. But they’d had a tough case and Garcia had suggested they all spend the evening at her apartment drinking.
Spencer couldn’t recall who exactly had suggested the drinking games, possibly Kate, but they had been Spencer’s downfall.
“You never did answer the question,” Garica helped Spencer into his jacket after everyone else had left.
“What question?” he slurred, narrowing his eyes on her.
“During truth or dare Morgan asked you how you lost your virginity. You didn’t answer.”
He swallowed, stumbling over his feet a little.
“I uh…” he sighed. “It was with my best friend. On a camping trip under the stars.”
“How romantic!” Garcia swooned.
“Hmm not really. It doesn’t have a happy ending.”
“I don’t remember,” he opened his eyes. “Why?”
“I met her a few times before she left, she was training me up while you guys were away on cases. She told me about the team and that’s when I figured out you still worked here, but I’d already accepted the job by then. Anyway I told her I used to know you, that we were best friends. I didn’t really think much of it until I found this today.” you fished in your pocket and pulled out a brightly coloured post it note. “It was slotted between the desks. I recognise her handwriting.”
You handed the small folded up note to Spencer who took it and unfolded it. In Garcia’s signature handwriting, it read, “You’re in love, just ask the stars.”
“Ok so maybe I did tell her about my best friend who I lost my virginity to under the stars.” he confessed.
“Ah then the note makes sense.” you took it back from him and slid it back into your pocket.
“Yeah.”
Silence followed, heavy, palpable silence.
He thought maybe after all this time he didn’t feel as strongly about you as he used to. But looking into your beautiful eyes, all those feelings came flooding back to him. He didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that he was still in love with you.
The question was, did you still feel the same?
As if reading his mind you stepped a little closer to Spencer, cautiously at first but when he didn’t shy away you came even closer.
You took hold of his tie and played with it between your fingers.
“I know what you’re thinking Spence,” you smiled coyly. “I always know what you’re thinking.”
“You should have been a profiler.” He smiled softly, making you laugh.
“I’ve said it once, Spence and I’ll say it again. If you want to know if I’m still in love with you...all you have to do, is ask.”
When they twinkle, twinkle,
Wedding bells will tinkle, tinkle.
You’re in love, just ask the stars.
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coldsandfluff · 3 years
Text
Friday Night Fever (F/M, Original, Illness Care-Taking Fluff)
Wrote this little original F/M care-taking fluff fic inspired by something that happened to me when I was in college (basically, caught a cold, three friends came over unannounced and insisted on me coming with them to the bar until one of them noticed the thermometer on my nightstand and realized I really was too sick to go). I've changed all the characters personality/appearance (including myself) so that we are completely unrecognizable, and added more to the story of course 😚
So if you like group of friends, platonic to maybe romantic care-taking fluff and F/M illness, read on!
--------------------------------------------------------------
Annabel left the sandwich shop at the end of her evening shift, feeling the cold autumn air seep through her jacket. Darkness had blanketed the town hours ago, and college students were already filling the streets on their way to the bars to celebrate the end of the week. Not that they’d really needed a reason to drink, of course.
As she launched the trash bags in the large dumpster in the back alley, Annabel felt an uncomfortable shiver running down her back. She’d been feeling under the weather for a couple of days, downing vitamin C fizzy drinks to stave it off. What she’d hoped would end up being a little annoying cold was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for. She could feel the icy tendrils of a fever crawling on her skin, and all she wanted to do was slip under the covers of her warm bed and sleep all weekend.
Her phone pinged as she started making her way back to her apartment.
Finn: We’ll be there in 40 minutes. Zack wants to pick up some pregame vodka from the store first.
Annabel sighed. She’d met Zack, Finn and Alex at her second job—a fancy new restaurant in the heart of town where she’d been waitressing part-time for the past two months. They’d hit it off on opening day, when Zack had accidentally broken a whole stack of plates. No one had seen what had happened but the four of them. Zack had gotten his dishwasher’s apron stuck on the door handle, and his hands had slipped at the sudden pull.
The crash had been deafening.
Right before the owner had rushed in to ask what had happened, Zack’s best friend, Finn, had kicked the wheel of the cart where the plates had been sitting a few moments ago, giving Alexander and Annabel a knowing look.
They’d all told the owner that the cart was broken and had tipped over without anyone touching it. Somehow, the owner had bought the lie. That night, Zack insisted on paying them a round of shots at the bar, and a tradition was born: The four of them. Every Friday. With lots of alcohol.
It was the only time Annabel let loose. With her two jobs and college, she was struggling to find free time, but Friday nights had become sacred. There was nothing like downing drinks and letting the buzz take over, following her three new friends wherever they wanted to go. It was always an adventure. Especially with Zack at the helm.
But tonight, there was no way she could make it.
Annabel: Actually, I can’t come tonight. Sorry.
She walked past a group of friends laughing and hollering, wishing she’d felt as good as they did. But the headache growing behind her eyes wasn’t going to let up, and adding alcohol to the mix would only make it worse. Not only that, but her nose had started running in the past two hours. She’d had to go blow it in the restroom every half hour, getting herself banished from the front of the store by the manager. She’d washed her hands so often that her skin was almost raw.
Just like her nose.
Finn: Nah, you’re coming. Nobody cancels Friday night. Come on.
Annabel couldn’t hold a smile. She typed back, sniffling. Her sinuses were prickling like crazy, as if she’d accidentally inhaled a cloud of tiny fireworks. She stifled a sneeze in the crook of her elbow, mid-word. “Ehh—Ehh’KSHHeeww!” Her eyes watered from the force of it. She wiped the tears away and resumed typing.
Annabel: I’ll make it up to you guys next weekend. Drinks on me.
She grabbed a crumpled tissue from her jacket pocket and dabbed at her nose. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, beckoning her. As she crossed the last stretch of sidewalk to the entrance, she kept checking her phone.
No reply.
Shrugging, she unlocked the front door and took the stairs.
***
Back in her apartment, she made a beeline for the bathroom to the right and used toilet paper to blow her nose, finally free to make as much noise as she wanted. She winced from the roughness of it on her chapped nostrils, but it was all she had. She wasn’t exactly the planning type. Her idea of a grocery list was memorizing the first three items and hoping the rest would come to her as she walked through the aisles. Most often than not, she’d have to make a quick run at the convenience store down the street to get what she’d forgotten.
She gathered her thick curly hair into a bun and looked at herself in the mirror. It was enough to confirm that she’d made the right decision. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin was so pale that her freckles popped like they did in the summer. Except for that slight flush high on her cheeks, of course. She popped a thermometer under her tongue and removed her work clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the bathtub.
Shivering from the sudden change in temperature, she covered her arms with her hands and ran to her dresser. Her warmest, softest sweater was the first thing she grabbed and put on, before throwing on a pair of comfy leggings and wool socks. The thermometer beeped.
100.8 °F. Figured.
She rolled her eyes and shuffled over to the “kitchen” of her studio apartment, which was the size of a matchbox and only contained a mini fridge, a microwave and an old sink. She poured herself some water and walked over to the bed, placing her glass and the thermometer on her nightstand. She would have brought over medicine as well, but she’d run out last semester after catching the flu going around campus, and had forgotten to replenish her stash. No matter. She could sleep this off. It was just a cold.
She suddenly sneezed twice in a row, as if her body wanted to protest her minimizing her illness, then got under the cover. Just as she was getting a little warmer, propping up her laptop to watch a movie, there was a knock at the door.
Annabel sat up, startled.
“Anna, open up!” a voice said behind the door.
Zack.
Annabel chuckled. Of course they wouldn’t give up that easily. She groaned, getting out of the warmth of her bed. She considered rushing to the dresser and putting on cuter clothes—they were her friends, but they were still boys, and she didn’t want to look like shit in front of them—but the thought of it was enough to drain her energy. Screw it. She walked over to the door and opened it.
“Finn told us you don’t want to come,” said Zack as he walked in. It was her friends’ first time coming up to her apartment. They’d usually wait for her downstairs. “So we’re here to change your mind.” He didn’t look at her, too busy checking out her place. He was dressed for the night—a buttoned-up shirt, navy blazer, jeans and dress shoes. His casual chic style always stood out in the local bars filled with broke college students, but he liked it that way.
Finn walked in after him, a crooked grin on his lips. “See, I told you you can’t cancel Friday night.” His shaggy blond hair half-covered his eyes, as always. Finn and Zack had been best friends since high school, and couldn’t have been more different from each other. At least physically. Finn was tall and lanky, Zack was smaller and worked out a lot. But they were both party guys, always ready for a crazy night—even though Finn was a bit more mellow than Zack.
Finally, Alex came in, and Annabel closed the door behind him. He had a sheepish look on his face, as if apologizing for the other two. He was a lot more like Annabel. Quiet, chill, along for the ride—whatever it may be. His deep brown eyes held her gaze for a second too long, and Annabel noticed one of his eyebrow raise ever so slightly. She bit her lip, feeling self-conscious about her appearance. They’d never seen her in such a state before. Thank god she hadn’t had the energy to remove her makeup yet.
“So this is where you live, uh?” Zack said, sitting on her desk chair and spinning it around and around. “I like it. Dorms suck.”
Before she could reply, Finn tsked. “Wow. So no love for your roommate, uh?”
“Dude, I love you,” Zack said, “but between you and an apartment all to myself, the choice is obvious.” He stopped spinning and turned to Annabel, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what’s so important that you can’t come with us? Do you have a date?”
All three boys turned to her. Annabel almost laughed. Could they not see the condition she was in? She cleared her throat. “No, I’m just not feeling well.”
Finn sat on the edge of her bed and examined her from afar. “Like what? Stomach thing? Flu?”
“Probably a cold, I guess.” Annabel could feel Alex’s gaze on her at her side. She glanced at him, then looked down, feeling silly. Now that she was saying it out loud, it sounded like a poor excuse. But she did have a fever, after all. She just didn’t want to start listing her symptoms.
Zack clasped his hands together. “You know what will make you feel better? Alcohol!” He grinned, as if proud of his solution. “Didn’t they used to give brandy to people when they were sick? We’ll make a special mix for your throat. Something with lemon and orange juice. You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know, I already have a headache…” Annabel said.
“Just take a couple of Tylenol. It’s like a hangover in advance,” Finn said with an encouraging smile. “One time, I went out clubbing with an ear infection and everything was fine. Actually felt better the next day, weirdly enough.”
“I don’t know guys, I won’t be much fun if—” Annabel was interrupted by a fierce tickle deep in her nose, spreading like wildfire. She ducked to her side, away from Alex. “Ehh’KSSHeeew! ‘KSSSHeeew!”
“Bless you,” the three boys said almost in unison.
“See?” Annabel said, pointing at her nose and sniffling. “You want me to sneeze all over you guys all night?”
Finn shrugged. “We’ll bring tissues. Whatever.”
Alex walked over to the bathroom and grabbed the toilet paper roll from the counter, then handed it to her. “Here.”
Annabel ripped a piece off and wiped her nose. “Thanks,” she said, sheepish.
Alex’s gaze paused on her for a few seconds before he turned to the other two. “Guys, she’s obviously sick. Let’s just go and let her sleep.”
“It’s just a cold,” Zack said. “She’s young and healthy. It’s nothing.” He got up and put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Give it an hour, and if you’re not feeling better after a few shots, we’ll walk you home.”
Annabel considered it for a second, trying to fight the shivers. Maybe if she wore something warm and took a few shots, she wouldfeel better. Numb the pain a little, at least. While she pondered it, Finn laid down on top of her bed spread and locked eyes with the thermometer on her nightstand. He frowned and sat up, picking it up.
He looked at her, thermometer in hand. His voice softened. “It’s that bad, uh?”
Annabel blushed. Why did admitting that she had a fever feel so vulnerable? She looked down and nodded. “Kinda.”
Zack looked at the thermometer, then back at Annabel. He narrowed his eyes and put a hand on her forehead. “Ooof,” he said, a hint of concern slipping in his tone.
Finn got up. “Let me see,” he said, walking up to her and placing his own hand on her forehead. His eyebrows shot up. “Yikes.”
“Yeah, you need to be in bed,” Zack finally said, guiding her back to bed. “Why didn’t you say you had a fever? Jesus, Anna.”
She shrugged, sitting on her mattress. “I don’t know. I just get fevers with colds. I guess it’s normal for me.”
“Fevers suck,” Finn said. “Last time I had one, I stayed in bed for two days and everything hurt.” He walked over to the front door. “We’ll miss you tonight, though.”
Zack followed. “Hope you feel better. We’ll text you all the crazy shit that’s going to happen so you don’t miss anything.” He followed Finn out of the apartment, leaving the door open for Alex.
Alex watched them walk by, then grabbed the roll of toilet paper on the counter where Annabel had left it. He brought it over to her nightstand and gave her a sad smile. “Do you need anything?”
Annabel shook her head, relieved that she was going to be able to stay in bed. “I’ll be okay.”
He seemed to hesitate for a second, then nodded. “Let us know if you want us to get you food later. I know I can never sleep when I have a fever.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. Her nose scrunched up, overtaken by another annoying prickle. “Ehh… Iihh’KSSSHHeeww!”
“Bless you.”
Zack’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Alex, you coming?”
Alex snickered. “I guess I should go.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “Feel better, okay?”
“I will. Thanks.”
***
Annabel tried to sleep, but her fever and runny nose kept waking her up, leaving her floating halfway between dreams and reality. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get any rest in her state. She needed cold medicine.
It took her a long time to finally convince herself to get out of bed and go to the convenience store, but she managed to push the covers away and get up. She shivered, causing another tickle in her sensitive nose—it had only gotten worse in the hour since the boys had left. She ducked at the waist in an exhausting triple. “Ehh… Hehh’KSSSHeeeew! ‘KSSHHeeew! Hiihh’KSSHeeew!”
Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Annabel frowned and made her way to the door, cracking it open.
It was Alex. Alone.
“Bless you,” he said with a shy grin.
Annabel let him in. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with the guys?”
He shrugged, closing the door behind him. “I thought you might need this.” He showed her a plastic bag filled with tea, tissue boxes, ramen, cough drops and—she gasped—cold medicine.
Alex chuckled. “So I was right. You don’t have any medicine, do you?”
Annabel laughed. “How did you know?”
“Your nightstand. You only had a thermometer on there. When I’m sick, I take Nyquil everywhere I go.” He handed her the bag. “And I wanted to make sure you had tissues instead of toilet paper. Your nose will thank me.”
Annabel touched her chapped nose, smiling. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” He stood there for a second, as if not knowing what to say. “I’ll uh—I’ll let you rest.”
Before he could go, Annabel put her hand on his elbow. “Wait. Do you want to—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, her nose scrunching up yet again, her eyes fluttering. She spun around and sneezed, covering her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Hehh’KSSHH! Ht’Ksshht!” She turned back around, blinking away the tears and laughing. “Sorry!”
Alex laughed, too. “Bless you.” He held her gaze, then looked down. “What were you going to say?”
“Oh—I was just wondering if—maybe if you’d like to watch a movie with me. I don’t think I can sleep until the medicine kicks in.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. Of course he didn’t want to watch a movie with her. This was Friday night. What kind of college guy wanted to hang out with a sick, sneezy, nose-drippy girl on a Friday night instead of getting drunk with his friends. “Sorry,” she added quickly, “I forgot that the guys are probably waiting for you. I guess I’m kind of loopy from the fever.”
Alex took a step forward and placed his hand on her forehead. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, that Annabel closed her eyes, appreciating the coldness of his palm on her hot skin.
“You are definitely burning up,” he half-whispered, frowning. “I was wondering if the guys were exaggerating. Guess not.”
Annabel bit her lip. “I’ll be okay after I take the medicine. You don’t have to stay.”
Alex removed his hand. “I do,” he blurted. “I mean, I do want to watch a movie with you. And stay.”
“Are you sure?” Annabel asked through her blossoming smile. “Aren’t you worried you’ll catch my cold?”
“Actually, I have a confession to make.” Alex led her to the bed and placed the content of his bag on her nightstand. “Last Friday, I kind of had a cold. It wasn’t as bad as yours, pretty minor, but… Zack convinced me to come out anyway and I—I think I might have given it to you. You drank out of my glass and I didn’t have time to stop you.” He looked at her, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Annabel laughed. “I can’t believe Zack didn’t rat you out earlier. It would have been the perfect example of someone going clubbing with a cold and ‘being fine’ anyway.”
“He probably knew it was partly his fault that you’re sick and didn’t want to admit it.”
Annabel shook her head. “Well, you owe me a Friday night.” She got into bed and patted the spot next to her. “That means I get to pick the movies.”
Alex grabbed the throw blanket at her feet and draped it over her. “That sounds fair.” He walked over to the other side of the bed and settled next to her. “But when you fall asleep, I can’t guarantee I won’t change it.”
“Deal.”
After taking a dose of Nyquil, Annabel started the movie, snuggling under the blanket. She wondered what kind of crazy adventures Zack and Finn were getting themselves into. She expected to feel FOMO, but instead, she shot a glance at Alex next to her, and realized she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was Alex’s shoulder touching hers, but it felt like this was the start of a different kind of adventure. Maybe not alcohol-fueled, but Nyquil was pretty close.
All because they’d shared a not-so-secret cold.
And Annabel had a feeling it would be worth the fever. And the countless sneezes to come.
THE END
70 notes · View notes
wisteriashouse · 3 years
Text
three pointer.
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pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader
genre: fluff, romance, college!au
word count: 2453
remarks: for @kyojoroo​ who mentioned something about a college!au for kyojuro!! this is a bit of an ugly draft, but i just wanted to post it anyway (because i spent too much time on it) i hope you enjoy it!
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“Great game!” 
“Yeah, you were a beast on the court, captain!”
“That last shot was insane! We wouldn’t have won without you!”
“Thanks, everyone,” Kyoujurou laughs as he steps into the communal showers, peeling off his basketball jersey as he goes. After a whole after non of so called friendly matches against a rival college, Kyoujurou can’t wait to get into the showers to wash all the sweat and grime that has accumulated off his body. “We all did great today, not just me. It’s our victory.”
“Oh, stop it with the humility, Rengoku, it’s embarrassing to watch,” someone shoves his shoulder playfully from the back - Kyoujurou turns around to see Tengen grinning at him as he steps into the shower next to his, tossing his own jersey to the side. “I’ll eat my gym socks if the headhunters aren’t brawling over you at this year’s nationals. They’ll be like a bunch of piranhas trying to get a piece of that ass.”
Kyoujurou shakes his head, but there’s a pleased smile curling at the corners of his lips. “Let’s just focus on making it to the finals firsts,” he says with a quick laugh, stripping off his shorts and stepping into the shower. Cold water runs down his back, splashes over his face. He glances at the clock hanging on the wall.
Five minutes to eight.
He reaches for the soap just as one of his teammates starts asking around where the rest want to head to for dinner. There’s a smattering of replies from the team, consisting of answers ranging from Wendy’s to the sushi place down the street, punctuated by the sound of running water. Kyoujurou, however, does not answer, focusing his attention on rinsing his hair clean of any soap suds before he’s reaching for his towel to dry himself off. 
Tengen, who’s in the shower next to him, notices how quickly he’s moving.
“What’s with the rush?” Tengen calls as Kyoujurou roughly dries his hair. “Are you that eager to head to dinner? Or,” his smile turns sly, “is it because of the cute waitress there who has the hots for you?”
“What? Don’t be stupid,” Kyoujurou reaches for his shirt, tugging it over his head and casting another glance at the clock. Eight o’ clock now. Damn, he’s late. “Besides, I’m not having dinner with you guys today. I have something else on.”
Tengen raises his eyebrows so fast Kyoujurou thinks that they might just fly off his forehead. “You have something else on?” He repeats, so loudly he might as well be trying to broadcast it to Mars. And to nobody’s surprise, least of all Kyoujurou’s, everyone in the showers is immediately aware of Kyoujurou’s dinner plans.
“Ehh? Captain, you’re not coming with us for dinner?”
“Yeah, we were gonna treat you and have some drinks after!”
“No, no, everyone, let him go,” Tengen’s eyes glint, and instantly Kyoujurou knows that his thoughts are ballooning far beyond the reaches of reality. “He’s definitely got himself a date, fucking finally-” Kyoujurou slaps a hand over Tengen’s mouth to shut him up before another word can leave him. The man might be one of his best friends, but god can he be annoying sometimes.
“I am going to dinner with a friend.” Kyoujurou emphasizes on the word ‘friend’. Tengen waggles his eyebrows very suggestively at him.
“A very… flamboyant type of friend?” He suggests, and Kyoujurou throws his towel at him. This, unfortunately, only serves to make Tengen all the more insufferable than he already is, the man dissolving into a bout of uncontrollable laughter. Kyoujurou groans.
“Stop it.” Sending one last look at the clock, he gathers up his things and shoves them into his backpack before pulling on his varsity jacket as fast as he can. “I’m meeting a very friend sort of friend for dinner, so don’t get any funny ideas. And stop it with the moaning noises,” he directs his last comment at Tengen, who’s still laughing at him. “I’ll see you guys for training tomorrow!”
As expected, a few shout goodbye in return while the rest hoot and holler for him to introduce them to his ‘special friend’ soon. With a quiet laugh and a shake of the head, Kyoujurou steps out of the sports hall, grateful for the cool evening air against his warm cheeks. Really, why do they feel the need to tease him like that?
He’s just about to take off at a light jog when his phone vibrates in the front pocket of his jeans.
Wincing around a slight smile, he hits ‘answer’ and raises the phone to his ear without a glance at the caller ID, the soles of the shoes slapping lightly against the pavement as he picks up a steady pace.
“Hey.” Kyojuro says. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound too breathless.
“You’re late.”
“We went into overtime and the match ended late.” The lights are red when he reaches the crossroads, so he slows his pace and takes a moment to catch his breath. A car honks loudly opposite him. “Sorry about that.”
“Hmm.” A noncommittal noise, and then a pause. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Dinner?” He repeats. The lights turn green, and he begins to jog once more. “Uhh… a double cheeseburger set and a coke zero.” It’s difficult to run and talk at the same time, more so over the phone with his backpack jostling with every step he takes. 
“Tempura side?”
A short bark of laughter leaves him. “You know me too well.” There’s a smile stubbornly clinging to his lips. He doesn’t want to get rid of it.
“You’re about as easy to read as a piece of paper.” A snort, then quieter, “I’ll be waiting for you at the diner.” Before Kyoujurou has the chance to say his own goodbye, the call hangs up on him. He holds the phone up, looks at it for a moment in amusement and laughs, before shoving his phone back into his pocket and quickening his pace, a new spring in his step.
You’re not a person who likes to be kept waiting.
>>> 
The distance to the diner isn’t very far from the sports hall, so Kyoujurou takes only about ten minutes, at a light jog, to make it there. Slightly out of breath from the exertion, he takes a moment to catch his breath and collect himself, before he pushes open the door to the diner, eyes immediately searching the inside for-
You’re seated at one of the booths, dressed in a comfy oversized hoodie and idly scrolling through your phone as you wait for him, two trays of untouched food on the table in front of you. At the sight of you, his mood lifts instantly - you don’t seem to have noticed him yet, so he waits for a moment before he makes his way over to you, sliding into the seat opposite.
You look up from your phone, and Kyoujurou beams, shucking his bag to the side.
“Hey.”
You raise an eyebrow at his chipper attitude, glancing at the screen of your phone as you set it to the side. “You are,” your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek, “twenty minutes late.”
Kyojuro puts his palms flat on the table and bows his head sincerely. “I am very sorry,” he says, suitably chastened. “Please forgive me.” You look at him for a moment, then open your mouth to speak.
“Did you win?”
At that, the smile that Kyoujurou has been trying so hard to keep down inevitably breaks through. “Mmhmm,” he says, and he swears he catches a ghost of a smile touching your lips as well.
“Then I’ll let you off this time.” You push his tray towards him, condensation gathering on the outside of his drink. You’ve been waiting twenty minutes for him, after all. 
“You could have started eating first, you know?” Kyoujurou says, slightly worried as he begins unwrapping his burger. “It’s not healthy to eat too late, and I know you skipped lunch for your project today.”
You shrug off his concern, lazily stealing a fry from his tray before he can stop you (not that he would, even if he could). “Wanted to eat together.” Is all you say in form of an answer, before popping it into your mouth.
Kyoujurou blinks at you, then reaches over to put a few more fries on your tray. He really needs to work on hiding his smile.
“Have some more, then.”
The two of you eat in comfortable silence amidst the chatter and noise ongoing behind you. Occasionally, Kyoujurou pauses between bites to ask you about your day, how your tests went. Conversation swells and ebbs easily between the two of you, never awkward, and the silence is always comfortable.
He finishes his meal first, demolishing the entire tray of food in a few big bites that would make Godzilla proud. Calling for an ice cream (because he’s still hungry), Kyoujurou settles his head on his hands, content to watch you eat, but to his surprise, you’re the one who speaks up first with an unexpected question.
“So, nationals.” You say, slowly. “When are they?”
Kyoujurou pauses, then blinks up at you, unsure if he’s mistaken the word ‘finals’ for ‘nationals’. You’ve never showed an interest in any of his basketball matches before, due to your dislike of large crowds and excessive screaming - hence, almost every basketball game ever. As far as he remembers, you’ve never even been to a game since… well, ever. Still, you asked, so Kyoujurou will answer. 
“They start next month.” Kyoujurou sits up, back a little more straight. “Why?”
Ignoring his question, you simply continue. “It’s a big deal for you, isn’t it?” You lift your burger and take a bite out of it. “Your future, and all that.”
Kyoujurou exhales a bit before he smiles again. “Yeah, it’s huge. All the headhunters from the professional teams will be watching. I can’t afford to show them anything but my best if I’m serious about becoming a professional athlete in the future.”
You make a face. “That sounds… awful, to be honest.” Kyoujurou laughs at that. Instead of taking another bite of your burger, you take a breath, set it to the side and look at Kyoujurou seriously. Confused by the sudden change in mood, Kyoujurou looks back at you, back straightening subconsciously and leaning forward more so that he can hear you better. “Since that’s the case, do you…” you pause for a second, seemingly hesitant, which really piques Kyoujurou’s interest. “Do you want me to-”
Kyoujurou never does find out what it is that you’re suggesting, because in the next second you’re interrupted by an ice cream being set down on the table between you. You, as usual, fall silent in the presence of an unexpected stranger, and Kyoujurou wants to groan. Talk about bad timing. It had seemed serious.
“Oh, it’s you again, captain.” Kyoujurou looks up to see the waitress smiling at him - she’s the one who usually serves his team when they stop by here for team dinners. He returns her smile politely. “It’s surprising to see you here with someone other than your team.”
“I had plans with a friend,” Kyoujurou gestures at you, not noticing the slight frown that tugs at your mouth. The waitress’ mouth forms a slight ‘o’ of realisation at the word ‘friend’, fidgeting with the serving tray in her hands before she speaks again.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your time with your friend here,” she says, suddenly, and her nervous tone gives Kyoujurou pause. Was Tengen right somehow? Did she really have a crush on him? “But you’re a sweet person and I think you’re really cute, so… if it’s alright… may I have your number to get to know you better?”
Kyoujurou blinks up at her, caught off guard by the sudden question - yet he finds his eyes instinctively straying to you. Your expression is neutral, both hands wrapped around his sundae as you begin digging into it, seemingly paying no attention at all to his business with the waitress.
Pressing his lips together, Kyoujurou turns back to the waitress, giving her a smile. “Thank you for your affection, I’m deeply honoured. However,” he pauses, making sure that his voice is carefully gentle before he continues, “I’m afraid that I already have someone else I am interested in. My deepest apologies.”
“Oh.” Her voice comes out tiny. Her eyes dart towards you, just for a moment, but once again you don’t seem to notice, attention still completely riveted on his ice cream. “No, no, it was my fault. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 
“Not at all!” Kyoujurou is quick to reassure her. “I think you’re a lovely woman, surely soon you will meet a partner worthy of you who returns your feelings.”
The waitress squeaks out a ‘thank you’ before she escapes into the kitchen, serving tray clutched to her chest. With that over, Kyoujurou turns back to you with an apology on his lips, only to be surprised to see that you’re staring at the kitchen door the waitress has just disappeared through.
“That happens often,” you comment lightly, taking another bite of his sundae. “You must be used to rejecting them by now. Did you come up with that excuse on your own?”
I’m afraid I already have someone else I am interested in.
Kyoujurou’s mouth opens, lips parting slightly and an answer hanging from the tip of his tongue, but before the words can escape him he closes his mouth firmly. He looks at you, watching as you swirl a fry in his ice cream before popping it into your mouth, before you look up at him expectantly. It is not in his nature to lie, so…
“You’ve finished all my ice cream,” he says, tone lighthearted. “I wanted dessert, you know.”
You glance at him, eyes narrowing slightly, but you don’t press the issue, looking down at his ice cream again. “I’ll buy you another one if you want.” You shrug. “Food always tastes better when stolen from someone else.”
Kyoujurou has to shake off a smile before he rises to his feet, hiking his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” Although the stroll is done so in comfortable silence, the topic of the waitress does not resurface, and Kyoujurou can’t help but feel just a hint disappointed. When you bid him goodbye at the door, your expression is just as unreadable as ever, and Kyoujurou does not know what to make of it.
He never manages to find out what it was that you wanted to talk about, either.
216 notes · View notes
writerofshit · 3 years
Text
(I mentioned briefly a story of how the Stream Team met. This is that story.)
Somewhere in Los Santos, in the late night hours of a Tuesday, a convenience store is robbed. So is one several blocks southeast. And one roughly in the middle of them both. After all, what's more convenient than 24 hour chili dogs on every other street corner?
Cash. Cash is more convenient. So are guns. Hollering, waving one to get the other. Most important, back alleys that twist and turn, snaking away from increasingly distant sirens. Three individuals find themselves running through these alleys, a couple grand each weighing their pockets down.
It's through serendipity and convenience that their paths cross.
The man from the farthest store arrives first. He's done this a few more times than he'd like to admit, so he'd had a plan. Of sorts. Cut through the park, take a few sidewalks like an upstanding citizen, under the bridge and find a fire escape to utilize from there. There aren't any that reach the ground, of course, because he's smart but not quite enough.
And so this is why Trevor is standing in an dark alley, contemplating whether or not the dumpster will give him enough height to reach the ladder, when the man from the middle store appears. He's around Trevor's height, but would probably win in a fight between them, if he were so inclined. He doesn't seem to be, though. He seems shaken, like he's not quite sure how he ended up in this alley. He's holding a gun almost gingerly, as if it might bite him.
Trevor pulls his own gun.
'dont you fuckin' try anything!'
This does not go over well with Matt. He takes a step back, and then seems to remember that he also has a gun so maybe this is even footing. He holds it aloft, finger nowhere near the trigger.
'same, asshole!'
At this moment the robber from the first store arrives, also, of course, with a gun. And a mask. And an entire purple and orange neon fucking suit, actually, topped with a white cowboy hat. It gives them a few extra inches of height they are distinctly lacking, comparatively. Somewhere in the back of his head, Trevor acknowledges that this newcomer could probably kick his and the other gunman's asses. It is not a pleasant thought.
'oh, what the fuck!?'
Jeremy sounds more annoyed and less scared than one would think, considering they've run into an alley only to find two men with guns. Two men who quickly turn those guns on them.
'who the fuck are you?'
The question surprises them all, including Matt, even though he's the one who asked. As it turns out, people have a tendency to say the first thing that comes to mind when in a stressful situation. Such as, having robbed a convenience store for the very first time and immediately finding himself face to face with other apparent robbers. It would get to anyone, probably.
'i don't want any trouble, but i've already robbed someone tonight and i don't give a shit about felony murder!'
Two lies and a truth, is what Trevor has chosen to play, for some reason. In reality, one does not rob a convenience store at gun point if one is intent on staying out of trouble. And he does, in fact, care very deeply about felony murder. Felony murder is the precise reason he'd shot a bag of Doritos and not a clerk. In his defense, the clerk had initially rolled her eyes at him, asked what exactly he thought he'd get out of this. He'd found this question rude.
The truth, of course, is that he did rob a convenience store. That did happen. No take backs.
'so did i!'
Matt and Jeremy speak so in unison it's almost scary. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the two of them had always known each other.
Trevor's gun wavers between them, unsure which is the bigger threat. The guy who clearly has zero experience with guns, or the weirdo who seems to have far too much? It's a toss up, really. So his aim pinballs back and forth, but his finger does not curl around the trigger. He's serious about that felony murder thing.
The air seems to shift, suddenly, and the sound of sirens is now growing closer. This evidently also annoys Jeremy, and they throw a glance over their shoulder to the direction they'd come from. Red and blue lights flicker past.
'shit. ok. we're all robbers, i guess, and we're all fucked if we keep standing here. who's got a plan?'
Jeremy's eyes are staring impatiently at Trevor. Eyes being the only part of their face Trevor can see. And their hands, a plastic bag in one and a gun in the other.
Trigger finger is an apt name.
He glances at Matt, still wild eyed and glancing back and forth. No, Matt probably does not have a plan. He sort of gives the impression that he's never had a plan ever, actually. That perhaps he'd simply woken up here and decided to wing it. So Trevor makes an offer.
'fire escape?'
There's another moment of tense silence. Well, minus the sirens. And oh, helicopters. Even better. Jeremy shrugs.
'good a plan as any.'
And then they're off, brushing past Trevor and hoisting themself up onto the dumpster. He knew it could work. Trevor blinks and Jeremy has caught the ladder, is quickly working their way up. Shit, how does five foot something manage to get that high on a good day, much less in this situation and with a bag and gun in hand?
Matt's gun clatters to the ground, and honestly, that's probably for the best. He's climbing onto the dumpster now, and he mutters something about not signing up for this shit. Trevor reminds him that he apparently robbed someone, so yeah, he kind of did.
Before Trevor climbs up, he shoves his gun into his jacket pocket. Smart? Probably not. Convenient? More so than climbing with a gun in his hand. He follows Matt up the ladder, wondering what happened to his plan. Yeah, the ladder had been involved. Two other people, however, were not.
Above them, glass shatters.
'warning, maybe!?'
'oops. careful, there's glass.'
Jeremy's voice is no longer directly above them. Instead, it comes from one story up and a little to the left. So they've broken into an apartment. Sure, add breaking and entering to the list of charges, that sounds great. But Matt and Trevor follow, because there's not really another option.
Inside the apartment, Jeremy's mask is gone. The suit is quickly disappearing as well, revealing a rather boring outfit of a white tank top and...sweatpants? The true mystery lies in where the cowboy hat has gone to, because that's a hard item to miss.
'do we really have time for this? don't you think someone might, oh, i don't know, wake up and call the cops?'
Trevor doesn't mean to hiss, it's just that he's sure there's more pressing matters to attend to than an outfit change. Continuing to flee, perhaps.
'nobody's gonna wake up.'
They don't even have the wherewithal to lower their voice. It registers to Trevor that Jeremy's bag and gun are missing as well. Had they dropped them on the way up? It was certainly possible. Trevor thinks he would have noticed a gun flying past his head, but there's a lot going on.
'can we maybe not kill anyone? he brought up a good point with that felony murder thing.'
It's the most words Matt has strung together since he'd shown up. It's damn near a whisper, but at least it's progress.
'i'm not- god, can you two shut up? i gotta make a phone call.'
Jeremy yanks the door open, hand carefully wrapped in the fabric of their shirt. For a moment, Trevor thinks they're leaving and steps forward to follow Jeremy. Instead, Jeremy turns and heads toward the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and digging inside it briefly. They come back with a cell phone.
Something dawns on Trevor.
'is this- do you live here? did you break your own window?'
Jeremy doesn't answer. They put the phone to their ear.
'you're gonna wanna hide whatever you've got. and try not to look like you just climbed in through a window.'
And then-
'hello? yes, hi, i'd like to report a break in, i think? i was hearing a bunch of sirens and then i don't know what happened but some guy just broke my window? he ran through and i just- my friends and i are really scared and we didn't know what to do- yes, we're ok, he's gone, but we- you'll send someone? ok, thank you. the address? oh, uh, it's the del perro heights building, apartment 7. should i shut the door? no, don't touch anything. ok- guys, don't touch anything, she said someone's on their way to check on us! thank you so much- no, i think we'll be fine. thank you.'
It's a marvelous performance. Jeremy genuinely sounds like some poor flustered victim of a crime. Trevor would applaud if he thought Jeremy would appreciate it. Almost immediately, their voice is back to normal.
'check things out my ass. they're gonna show up, ask which way he went and never call me again. feel real fuckin safe.'
Jeremy settles themself onto the couch, choosing the spot closest to the door. Matt, who has apparently gotten over his initial terror, wanders into the kitchen. Searching for something to distract himself, if Trevor had to guess. Trevor is still standing in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded. How did a simple robbery become hanging out with other robbers, waiting for cops to show up?
'i'm jeremy, by the way. they won't ask, but y'know. just in case.'
They're flipping channels on the tv, seeming to arbitrarily skip almost a dozen programs. Finally, they settle on one and stand. Trevor recognizes it as an old Disney movie, and desperately wants to ask why the fuck Jeremy has put this on.
'uh, hi. i'm trevor. why are we watching Mulan?'
'matt. oh hell yeah, i love this movie!'
He sounds remarkably cheerful, considering the circumstances. How Trevor had seemingly switched places with Anxious McGee is beyond him. He needs to get it together. He pulls his gun from his pocket and takes it to the kitchen, sticking it in the drawer Jeremy had taken the phone from. There are several other phones of varying price point. He steps back to the living room just in time.
'that's why.'
They don't elaborate. Apparently Trevor is meant to just figure this out on his own, which ordinarily he might be able to do. After the course of events of this particular evening? Not a chance.
But he can't ask, because now there's a cop in the doorway and he's staring at Trevor and that will never be a good thing. Trevor stares back. He has no clue what he's meant to say. Hello? Welcome? He went that way?
'oh thank god! we've been so terrified, we didn't know if he'd come back or what he'd do.'
Naturally, Jeremy has taken lead on this. They're a phenomenal actor, Trevor has to admit.
'did you see which direction he went?'
'toward the stairs, i think. we've all been rooted to the spot, you know, it's so scary-'
Matt freezes in the doorway of the kitchen. He's just out of the view from the front door.
'right, well. you boys did the right thing by calling. can you give me a description of the man?'
The corner of Jeremy's mouth quirks.
'gosh, it all just happened so fast. taller than me, probably, but shorter than you, wouldn't you say, trey?'
Trevor nods, because he's not quite sure what else to do.
'alright, thank you. someone will be in touch with you for an official statement. in the meantime, if you remember anything else don't hesitate to call.'
He's holding a card out to Trevor, of all people. He takes it carefully, like if he does it wrong somehow the guy will know and arrest them all. The card is simply the number for a tip line.
As suddenly as he'd arrived, the cop is gone and they're all breathing sighs of relief. Jeremy closes the door.
'you guys can stay for Mulan, if you want.'
So they do.
Trevor asks about why Mulan again, and Jeremy explains that they assume most people have seen it, could answer any questions about it if they came up. Perhaps, if LSPD officers were less incompetent, they would have. Although if that were the case, they wouldn't be LSPD officers at all.
Matt asks about the window, and Jeremy says yes, they did break their own window. Of course they'd had an actual plan when they'd entered the alley. They were always going to end up exactly here, give or take the extras. Asking for a plan was simply a test, determining the merit in bring them along. They'd passed.
Jeremy asks if they want to stay for Mulan II, which is apparently up next. They do.
Somewhere in Los Santos, in the early morning hours of a Wednesday, three convenience stores are recovering from three separate robberies. Right in the middle of them all, their respective robbers are sitting on a couch together, watching a straight to video children's film.
It is the beginning of something far greater than any of them can imagine.
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kats-blogg · 2 years
Text
Ok it’s up on my Ao3!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/37337521
*runs away*
It’s late and all of Tulsa seemed to have slowed down for the day. Soft orange light from the flickering street lights bled in through the window, and the only noise besides cars in the distance is the quiet song coming from the radio. I don’t know whos singing, but the house felt too quiet.Our doors are always open, and usually someone is here trying to get away from life at home, most often Steve or Johnny. Dal usually stays at bucks place, so no one’s here tonight. Nighttime seems to be the only time I can catch a break. I pick up the newspaper from the coffee table, worn and stained because nobody uses coasters. I try to find something interesting to read but not much happens in Tulsa worth reading. I pretend to be interested anyway.
I don’t know how long it had been when the screen door slammed open, hitting the wall with a clang. I sprung up, not sure who I was expecting to see.
“Tim?”
He stumbled in. “I-I’m sorry,” he apologized between breaths “your place was closest…I thought I could take ‘em-“
“Tim.” I grabbed his shoulders, his head jolted up, giving me a better view of the bruises and cuts that distorted his face, painted in purples and greens and pinks. It hurt me to see him like this. “What happened?”
“Damn socs. I didn’t even do nothin.. I was outnumbered but I thought I could take ‘em. Guess not.” He gave a wry smile that I couldn’t return.
“C’mon, let me help you,” I tell him, guiding him in the direction of the bathroom.
“Nah I’m fine. I’ll just sleep it off.” I ignored him, continuing to lead him down the hall, floorboards groaning under our weight the whole way.
“Honestly Dar,” He continued “I don’t wanna wake anyone. Pony’s probably got school.”
“He’ll be alright. He’s a heavy sleeper.” I sat him down and got out the first aid kit, setting it on the counter.
“I wish you wouldn’t do this to yourself. Why do you get into fights?” I ask as I get to work cleaning his cuts.
“They started it and I thought I could take ‘em. I’ve done it before,” He replied. “I think you’re overreacting.”
“I don’t think so,” I assure him, applying the last bandage.
“You still love me right?” He asked. He meant it lightheartedly, I could tell, but I could see seriousness in his eyes.
“Of course, but I’d love you more if you didn’t do stupid stuff like this.” I too, meant it lightheartedly, but I really did love him, and I hated seeing him hurt.
“You know I try,”
“I know. Get some rest.” told him. “There’s blankets and a pillow on the couch going to bed. Holler if you need anything.”
“Alright,” he smiled, heading towards the living room.
He was gone before I was awake the next morning, blankets on the couch and an open first aid on the counter the only signs he had ever come.
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