#“us” shaking my head laughing incredulously lady with the glasses gif

[ultralightpoe]

Pearl, Peach and Pomegranate - Tangerine

Authors Note: I am working on requests rn but I had to write this because it’s been stuck in my head all dayyyyyy -- Let me know if you want more of this little family?

Description: The Three times Tangerine meets the loves of his life

Warnings: birth giving

Word Count: 1730

If you like Taylor Swift and my writng then look at my writing event I have HERE! I think you will really enjoy it! 

Enjoy!

Pearl  

You were having a good day, this much Tan knew. 

He had been watching you for days, sitting in the back booth of a pub near a mission he had taken, with his brother. They still had two more weeks of work and Tan was just fine with spending every second he could sitting right here…..watching you. 

“You should go talk to her.” Lemon offers, playing the straw of his lemonade, smiling a bit when Tan shakes his head. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“She could hear me, mate.” Tangerine snaps, his face thrown in an incredulous look as if the thought was the worst thing he had ever heard. His rings glint in the light as he grabs the empty glass in front of him and breathes out. 

“Well you need another drink.”

“She seems busy.” Lemon laughs at this, gesturing to where you were polishing glasses with no one bothering you. “Okay okay. Fine.”

Risking one last glance at his brother before sitting up and scooting out of the booth, taking three easy strides across the bar until his hands touch the wooden bartop that separates you from him. You don’t notice him at first, which he is affronted and glad for, and he took a second to watch you a bit closer. 

You were pretty from a distance but at this angle you were absolutely stunning, from your hair to your outfit all the way to the pearl dangly earrings you wore in your ear. 

“Oh hey! Sorry, what can I get for ya?” You smile and he swears he feels his heart stop. It takes him a minute to clear his throat and come up with a good response, a heat traveling his skin. 

“How about your number?” Smooth. Bloody smooth. 

“Or maybe you can start with my name?” You laugh, reaching a hand out to him. “I’m Y/n.”

“Tangerine.” He responds, reaching to shake your hand and there is a zap when your skin hits his. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were using code names.” You tease, shaking your head. 

“Get a grip, pearl. Catch on.” He laughs, sitting on the stool to stare at you.

“Pearl?”

“Yeah, my lil’ pearl.”

—---------------------

Peach 

“How ya doin’ love?” Tangerine asks, decked out in protective hospital scrubs, leaning down to kiss your forehead as you grunted in pain for the hundredth time. 

You were covered in sweat, tears sliding down your cheeks, and his hand had lost feeling 10 minutes ago due to your tight grip but Tan had never been so in love with you. Which was astounding considering he worshiped the ground you walked on. The pearl wedding ring you wore began digging into his hand as you yelled out while the doctors began trying to do breathing exercises with you and you tried to keep your cool, you really did. But the second the sweet short nurse started handing you another ice chip you lost it a bit. “Get the fuck OUT OF MY SPACE WITH YOUR UNMELTED WATER!”

A laugh crawls up Tans throat that is quickly diminished when he sees the nurse give you a dirty look, a protective anger washes over him and he reaches a hand over to snatch the cup from her. “I can handle this, yeah? Why don’t ya’ go hover over another pregnant lady?”

His eyebrows are pinched together and when he leans forward to give her his best ‘fuck around and find out’ look the gold chain he always wears pops out of the scrubs and flashes. You hum, coming down from a contraction and your hold on his right hand softens the slightest bit. 

The nurse, apparently not as stupid as he thought, backs out and removes herself from the room. The second the door closes he turns to you and leans his head in, allowing you to smell the peppermint he loved so much. “Say the word Pearl, and I’ll go handle her.”

“Easy there tiger.” You laugh, letting go of his hand to reach up and hold the back of his shirt and draw him in. “No death on our baby's day.”

So he listened, and he is thankful he was here for this because 2 hours later you were holding a small bundle in your arms as Tan paced the room anxiously. The doctors had left to check all the test results to make sure the baby was okay leaving you three alone in the room. 

The purple bundle (Lemon had insisted purple was a lucky color for babies and made a blanket himself) was so silent and terrifying that Tan had to stay on the other side of the room. 

He, for the first time in his fucking life, felt so vile. Like he would taint the air his daughter breathed, his pure precious daughter. 

“Would you stop pacing and come hold her?” You ask, a soft look on your face.

“I…..Pearl I can’t-” He chokes up, body tightening and eyes welling with tears. “I don’t wanna hurt her.”

“My arms are so tired, please?” It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that, but you knew the only way he’d get over his fear is if he thought you were in pain. Within moments he was across the room, hands shaking as he slowly picked her up into his arms and sat in the chair beside your bed. 

Tangerine had been on countless missions where he had to keep himself contained in order not to get caught, and yet never once in his life had he ever sat so still. He couldn’t risk hurting the……

And that’s when he sees her, looking down on the sweetest face he has ever seen, peacefully sleeping. Tears began flowing from his eyes and you laughed lightly as you watched, crying yourself. 

“How do we feel about the name Peach?” You finally ask after a moment of crying and Tangerine could do nothing else but nod. Because at that moment he knew he would tear out his own heart for his little girl, his sweet baby Peach. 

—------------------

Pomegranate 

He was still covered in blood by the time the plane landed, Lemon panting by his side as they raced through the airport with tons of people turning to stare at them. If this was any other day he would have changed into a fresh suit and tried to hide the proof of what he had just done. 

But he had no time to fuck around today. 

You had told him you had a feeling something was gonna happen before he left, and the both of you assumed that feeling revolved around him getting hurt on the mission, so he had promised to stay safe and kissed you passionately before he bent down to kiss Peach’s head and left. 

Little did he know that your feeling would end up meaning you would go into labor 8 days early and he would miss the birth of his second daughter. 

“Lemon, hurry THE FUCK UP!” He barks when they reach the parking lot, rushing to the cars in the back and both finding the first one that was unlocked and throwing their stuff in the back. 

Lemon sets his bag down  lightly, shaking his head when Tangerine chucks his own on top. “Be careful, yeah? I got that gift for Peach in there.”

Lemon had taken his job as godfather very seriously and now every place they went he collected an ornament for your daughter so she could hang it on her little pine in the backyard. 

“Yeah yeah. Your Peach’s favorite blah blah blah. Shut the fuck up mate.” Tan snaps, hopping in the drivers seat and hotwiring the car. “I got her a barbie.”

“She likes G.I. Joes.”

“Well France didn’t have any fucking- you know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you because the barbie I got was cool. Yeah? So fucking awesome. Wearin’ scrubs and everything so why don’t ya piss off?” 

Lemon shakes his head, obviously amused and holds on tight as his brother tears through the streets like a wild man. By the time they actually make it to the house the car is nearly out of gas and definitely burnt through the oil. 

The second he has it parked he is rushing out, racing up the front steps and opening the front door. 

Peach squeals in excitement, dropping the two figurines she had been playing with, and jumping across the room to dive into his arms. 

“There she is! My plump little Peach!” Tan sighs, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pulling her in. Every worry seemed to vanish when you or your daughter hugged him and for that he was eternally grateful. “Where is ma?”

“Upstairs!” She smiles, pulling out of his hug much to his chagrin and dragging him up the stairs to the nursery he had set up a month before he left. 

The door is silent when he cracks it open, but his daughter stomps across the room calling for you. You smile, sitting up in the rocking chair when you see them both, and fix the bundle you were holding so he could get a better look.

He never wanted to meet his second child covered in blood, and he was embarrassed at the fact that this is how his new baby would meet him at all. Not that it mattered considering she wouldn’t actually recognize colors or remember this when she grows up. 

You hand her off, kissing the top of the blanket before moving to pick up Peach so she didn’t feel left out. Tangerine tries to catch his breath as the baby blinks at him, waking up and looking straight at him.

“She’s looking at me.” He says, heart beating out of his chest. Suddenly the baby smiles and coos and he feels like throwing up in excitement. 

“She must recognize your voice.” You smile, bringing Peach closer to see. 

“What did you name her?”

“Well I figured we had a tradition to uphold and since I was craving Pomegranate seeds for 9 months it seemed fitting to name her…”

“Pomegranate.” He smiles, a laugh escaping him. “Oh she’s gonna grow up hatin’ us for that one. I love it.”

“Hey papa?”

“Yeah Peach?”

“What is all over you?”

“Uhm…..paint?” 

(If you like Taylor Swift and my writing take a look at my writing event for April HERE! I think you will really like it! Let me know if you want more of Tangerine and his two daughters!)

[noladyme]

As It Should Be - A Raymond Smith One Shot

Raymond is the perfect gentleman, with a perfect home, and very settled habits. One of those habits had become to cancel dates at the last minute; and in stead spend the night in with his girl.

Now, she's had enough, and decides to challenge him on it, doing everything she can, to get on his nerves. The result is much more interesting than she'd anticipated.

Hell hath no fury like a girlfriend of a gentleman gangster, who has been stood up one too many times.

Ray had given me a key a few months before, during dinner at our favorite steakhouse – his backyard. We’d been celebrating 6 months together, and he’d handed me a small wrapped box, with a pretty bow tied around it. He’d most likely used a ruler to get the paper and the ribbon exactly the sizes he needed, to make it look as perfect as possible. His perfectionism both drove me mad, and turned me on immensely.

My hands had been shaking, partly in fear – I was no near ready for any diamond rings – but Ray had given me a slight smile. “Don’t worry, darling”, he said. “Nothing near as serious as you’re worried it might be”. “You telling me we’re not serious, Raymond?”, I replied snarkily. “Just open it, love”, he said.

Inside the tiny packet lay a golden key. “It’s for the house”, Ray said. “I want you to be able to come and go as you please… Just don’t try to break in to any locked freezers”. I raised a brow at him. “Is this because you don’t like my flat?”, I asked. “I know you have issues with council estates…”. “You spend most nights here anyway”, Ray said. “Look, I’m not asking you to move in… Unless you want to of course”. I laughed at his amused expression. “You wouldn’t last a week with me in the house!”, I said. “First time I use the wrong glass for red wine, or leave water stains on the bathroom mirror; you’ll go mad”. Ray blinked – his little adorable tick. “No, I won’t”. I tugged at his beard, and smiled. “Yes you will”.

Ray pressed the key into my hand. “Just… keep this, alright? The house feels more like a home when you’re here”. I leaned towards him, and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “I didn’t get you anything…”, I blushed. “That’s alright”, Ray smiled. “You can give me head in the shower later”.

I had used the key on more than one occasion – admittedly preferring Ray’s more comfortable bed to my own lumpy mattress in my one-bedroom rental. And both Ray and me had enjoyed when I’d been waiting for him in it, naked and ready to help him relax after a tense day of whatever it was Mickey had him doing all over London. Tonight, my plan was different.

Ray had cancelled four dates in a row, just as I was about to leave the house. He’d call just as I would be about to put on my shoes. “I’m so sorry, love. Work ran late. I’ll have Bunny pick you up, drop you at the house, yeah?”. And once again, I’d end up waiting for Raymond in his house, in my pretty dress; until he’d show up – an hour later – with a bouquet of roses or a pair of earrings too expensive for the queen, takeout from some fancy restaurant; and an apologetic smile on his face.

I was beginning to wonder whether Ray didn’t want to be in public with me. I wasn’t the kind if woman he’d usually meet while wining and dining lords and ladies all over England. Maybe my teacher’s salary and fondness of things like public transport – he’d practically begged me to let him get me a car, which I’d declined vehemently – was becoming too lower class to him. I decided to challenge him on it – and maybe, just maybe, I wanted to punish Ray just a little bit, for cancelling our plans for the hundredth time.

This time, I was ready. Ray called, on cue, just as I was about to slip on my shoes. “I’m so sorry, love…”, he began. “It’s alright, Ray. I understand”, I said. “I’ll pick up dinner on the way”. Ray paused for a moment. “I don’t want you waiting in some restaurant alone”, he said. “Don’t worry, babe. Bunny will be there”, I replied. “Tell you what. You can pick up the wine”. “Ripasso?”. I heard the smile in his voice. “You know me, I’m not choosey. Just make it red”, I said. “See you soon”, Ray said, and with after a few more warm words, we said goodbye, and hung up.

Bunny gave me large grin as I jumped into the back seat of the large Mercedes, dressed in leggings, a hoodie, and a smug expression. “Hello, Bunny”, I said. “We need to make a stop”. “Of course, miss. Where?”, he asked. “McDonalds drive-through”, I said. Bunny’s smile became impossibly bigger. “Ray is in for it, isn’t he…?”, he asked. “You fucking know it”, I smiled, and leaned back in my seat.

Once inside the house, I began my preparations. My first stop after kicking off my shoes and setting down the bag of food in the kitchen, was in Rays closet. I checked to see Fletcher wasn’t hiding in it, as he’d done once before; and then went through the collection of shirts. I chose a white Armani, shrugged of my hoodie; and put it on. For an extra touch, I left the closet door open, mussed up the sheets on the bed, and threw the duvet and a pillow on the floor. Next up was the bathroom. I opened the lid to the toilet, washed up – making sure to spray some water on the mirror – and dropped the towel on the floor, once I’d wiped my hands.

I dropped my hoodie on a chair in the hallway, and made my way to the kitchen. Being a big fan of Rays espresso machine, I made myself an americano, poured it into a tea mug – drank half of it – and left the mug in the sink. I took out two plates, carrying them over to the coffee table. I chose the actual silver silverware from the drawer, and put it by the plates.

With a few final touches, and after touching up my makeup, I sat down in one of leather recliners, and put my feet up – waiting for Raymond to come home. It wasn’t long before I heard his keys turn in the lock, and I readied myself for a potential catastrophe. I heard his footsteps in the hallway, and got up to stand. “Darling?”, he called out. “Something smells… deep fried”. I heard him stumble for a moment, probably over my sneakers on the floor. “I’m in here”, I said, and went to meet him in the kitchen – knowing his usual route when he got home.

Ray looked as dapper as ever, in a tweed jacket, a vest, and a pair of dark grey slacks. He looked mildly annoyed about having tripped over my shoes; and was holding a bottle of wine in one hand, and a wrapped box from Selfridges. When he saw my relaxed attire, he looked confused.

“I love when you wear my shirts, but that’s…”. “Armani. I know", I said, and tugged at it. “It’s very comfortable“.

Ray shrugged, put down the wine, went over to slip an arm around me, and kissed me deeply. I was finding it difficult to keep my composure, as I stood pressed against his firm frame; and inhaled his scent. “I brought you something… to apologize", he said, and handed me the beautifully adorned box. “You didn’t have to, Ray", I said, and suppressed the urge to open it; in stead tossing it on the kitchen island. He looked at me with narrowed eyes, and I kissed his cheek. “Dinner’s ready. Go wash up". Raymond stole another kiss, and squeezed my bottom, before going back out into the hallway, and towards the bathroom.

“Is this your sweater in the hallway?”, Ray called out to me, as he passed it. “Probably”, I responded. “You don’t usually wear hoodies”. “You could hang it…”, he said. “Never mind, I’ll do it”. I smiled to myself, imagining his grumpy face as he hung my 15 quid hoodie, next to his own Burberry trench on the coatrack.

Once Ray returned from the bathroom, I was sipping some of the delicious red wine, from one of the cognac glasses. Ray didn’t say a word about the state I’d left his bathroom in, but he did twitch at my choice of glass. “Something wrong?”, I asked sweetly. “Nothing at all”, he said, and tried for a smile. I handed him a glass of his own, and he struggled with not holding it in his palm, as he would have, had it been filled with brandy. I clinked my glass to his, and smiled. “Everything alright with work? What made you late?”, I asked. “A meeting with some people… Nothing that would interest you”, Raymond said, and turned towards the counter, noticing the half full mug of coffee in the sink. “I’m happy you’re making yourself at home”, he grunted, and peeked out the corner of his eyes at me. “Well, you told me to…”, I said, and linked my fingers with his.

Rays eyes twinkled, and he leaned in for another kiss; parting his lips, to deepen it. His tongue probed for entry to my mouth, but I pulled back. “Let’s eat”, I said, and walked towards the living room area. “I’ll set the table”, Ray said. “I already did”, I smiled. He looked confusedly at the dining table. “We eating outside?”, he asked. “No. I set us up over here”, I said casually, and threw myself on the couch; patting the seat next to me. Ray looked flabbergasted. “I have this lovely dining table…”, he tried. “Bring the wine”, I said, ignoring his words.

Ray sat down next to me, and filled my glass. I picked up the paper bag of food, and began distributing burgers and fries on the plates. “I got chili cheese tops and chicken wings as well”, I said. “Eat up”. I picked up the knife and fork, and began cutting into my burger. “That’s a … salad fork”, Ray said, his voice choked. “There’s salad in the burger”, I shrugged. Ray looked at me incredulously, as I dipped a few fries in my ketchup, and then – deliberately – let some of it fall and stain his shirt I was wearing. “Woops”, I said, and grabbed a napkin, beginning to dab at the stain. “Fuck, darling. That’s dry clean only!”, Ray sighed. “I’ll get it out… maybe some bleach”, I said. His eyes widened.

“What’s going on with you?”, he asked. “Nothing", I said, feigning confusion. I took a big bite from my burger, using the silver salad fork to put it there. “Yum". Ray took the fork from me, just as I was about to take another bite. “What are you doing?", I frowned “Why are you testing me?”, he demanded. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean, babe", I said. “I’m just enjoying a date with my darling”. “In a stained Armani shirt, and leggings?”, Raymond said. I shrugged. “It wasn’t like we were going out anyway". “I had reservations at…”, he began. I blew a raspberry at him, catching him completely of guard. “Like there was ever a chance we’d use those", I said.

Raymond’s eyes finally lit up in understanding. “You’re angry that I was late, and we had to change plans tonight". “Tonight?”, I sneered. “Try the last… five dates we were supposed to go on". Ray pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. “I see… This isn’t how I’d seen the evening going either, love". “Sure it was", I said, getting up from the couch with my cognac glass of wine in hand. I took off my socks, and walked over towards the door to the yard. I opened it, and threw my socks outside. Ray got up behind me, in shock. “Its fine, really. I don’t mind the fact that you don’t want to be seen in public with me. That I’m not worth enough to be taken out somewhere nice”. Using a chair as a step, I walked onto the dining table, and made a little catwalk back and forth. Ray looked equal parts terrified, astounded and enraged. “This way, I can show you how truly at home I feel here".

“Please get off the table", he croaked. “No”, I said, taking a sip of my wine. “Please", Ray tried again, obviously trying to control himself. “Not happening", I said. I stopped my leisure stroll back and forth, and looked Raymond square in the face. We were both quiet, and it was like a standoff in one of those old western movies. “Get off the fucking table, or else…”, Ray said, patience clearly wearing thin. “Or else… what?”, I challenged him.

Though enjoying my little game, I was also beginning to fear that I was digging myself into a bigger hole than I could get out of. Raymond’s eyes were on fire, but I thought I could see something behind the rage – something quite intriguing. I decided to keep my game going. Either Ray would kick me out on my ass, or something else would happen; something much more fun. Either way, I’d have some sort if closure. “I will spank you six ways from Sunday", he said. I hadn’t expected that. “Is that a promise?”, I asked, not sounding remotely as confident as I’d hoped to.

As I lifted the glass to my lips again – all the time keeping my eyes on Ray’s – I shifted my fingers, so that I was palming it in my hand. Ray blinked again, twitching from my teasing.

Suddenly he made a jolt forwards, as if launching himself at me, and I almost fell of the table as I stumbled backwards. Looking down myself, I realized some of the red wine had splashed onto his shirt. “You made me spill my wine!”, I said. “Last fucking chance, darling”, Ray said, walking towards me; almost on the prowl. “We gonna dance now?”, I said. I walked to the middle of the table again – downed my drink – and used my toes to push the bowl of fruit towards the edge. Ray caught it just as it toppled over.

He walked over to the kitchen island, put down the bowl, and calmly took of his jacket; before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He walked over to the head of the table, cleared his throat; and set down his palms on it – his eyes dark. “Right. This is going to hurt me more than it will you”, he declared, before pouncing on me; catching my legs, and throwing me over his shoulder. He gave me a hard spank over the ass. “Will you behave now?”. “No!”, I yelled. He set me down, and turned me around by the shoulders; forcing my upper body down over the table, with a hand pressed down between my shoulder blades. I could honestly say I’d never been more turned on in my life.

“I asked you nicely, and you still acted like an imp”, he said. He used his free hand to pull down my leggings, exposing my panty-clad bottom; and as I kicked my legs, he removed them completely. “Impish behavior demands punishment”. He delivered a hard smack on my left cheek. “Ow!”, I yelled, trying to wrestle myself away from him. “You’re spanking me like a child, now?”. Ray leaned to hold me down with his whole arm. “Well, if you’re going to behave like a child…”, Ray said, and spanked my right cheek. His hand rubbed over my skin afterwards, almost soothingly. “You’re the one who should be punished!”, I growled. “You’ve been cancelling all our plans lately”. Ray spanked me on the left cheek again. “That’s what you’re doing? Punishing me?”, he asked. He gave my right cheek another smack. “When all I’m doing is keeping you happy… getting you flowers and presents; telling you to make yourself at home in this nice house… Oh, no; love. I’m a fucking prince to you”. “Yeah, I’m really feeling my princess Di fantasy here!”, I scoffed.

Raymond began spanking both my cheeks in turn. I let out yelps and whimpers at each hit; as they sent signals straight to my core. “This is for the silverware (smack)… This is for throwing the towel on the floor (smack)… For the glasses (smack)… For leaving your shoes about for me to trip over (smack)… And this (smack), is for walking all over my dining table on your bare feet (smack)…”. I was struggling in vain to get free; and at the same time wanted this torture to never end. His fingers ghosted my covered folds, and I drew in a short breath. Ray pulled me up to stand, and raised a brow, as he looked down at me. “Now, will you behave?”. “Not in a million fucking years”, I said.

Before he could catch me, I sprang towards the kitchen island, crawling on to it. Ray caught my ankle, but I managed to get free; and got down on the other side – the island now a barrier between us. I smiled wickedly. I grabbed the half full mug form the sink, and held it up as to spray the coffee at him. “Careful, Raymond. I know how you dislike getting dirty”, I smirked. “I’ll show you how fucking dirty I can get, babe", Ray growled, and sprang over the island, making me drop the mug back into the sink in pure shock.

Ray pulled me into his arms, pinning my arms down at my sides, and attacking my lips with a feverish kiss. I didn’t struggle now; my body responding by completely giving in to lust. After a moment of passionately kissing me, Ray let me go; and ripped open the shirt. “You ruined my shirt”, he growled, and pulled it off me; leaving me in my bra and panties. He was still impeccably dressed himself. The mix of his warm body and the cool fabric of his vest pressing against my naked skin was heaven. I began leaning against Ray, and bit my lip with a smirk. He shook his head. “You want to use things the way they’re not supposed to be used? Fine. Get your ass on that counter”.

My jaw dropped. Sex with Raymond was always thrilling, and we’d enjoyed these sessions, not only in his – and a few times my – bed, the backseat of his car, and in the shower; but also, one time in a fitting room, where Ray had come with me to help chose a dress for a job interview at a private school. I made the mistake of bending over with my back to him; and suddenly found myself pressed against the wall, with Ray covering my mouth with his hand, to muffle my moaning as he screwed me into oblivion. I hadn’t gotten the job, but I did gain a memory for life. In spite of this, we’d never had sex in his kitchen. Ray had this obsession with keeping everything in his home as it should be, and I had a feeling that it might be because he needed to control at least some things in his otherwise quite unpredictable life.

I gave myself a second to feel bad for having disrupted his perfect home base; before he lifted me up to sit on the kitchen island. He snatched a pair of scissors out of a drawer, pulled out the fabric of my panties, and cutting through them at my hips. “You bought me these!”, I said. “I don’t care”, he growled. “I’ll get you some new ones”. He ripped the ruined panties of me, and looked down at the apex of my thighs. The cool wooden surface against my bottom made the sting from the spanking subdue, and I shifted to get more comfortable. The moment seemed to drag out forever, as Ray just looked at me. He took a deep breath. “Don’t move”.

Ray left the room for a moment, and then returned; having poured himself a proper glass of probably very expensive scotch. Leaning back against the counter opposite me, crossing his legs; he took a sip of the drink, and commenced his staring at me. “I have to say, that is the most appetizing piece of meat laid out in my kitchen in a long time”, he said. “Ray…”, I said, feeling myself melt under his gaze. A wicked smile ghosted his face, when suddenly his phone buzzed in his pocket. He leisurely took it out, and picked up the call.

“Yes?... Handled it this morning. Meeting’s set up for tomorrow afternoon… No, you didn’t interrupt anything, boss. Just preparing dinner…”. He began strolling calmly around the kitchen, and I didn’t dare move. “I was about to ask her, but she’s a bit preoccupied at the moment… I’m sure she’d love to, count on us…”. He took another sip of his scotch, and then held the glass to my lips; seemingly for me to taste. As I opened my mouth, he pulled the glass back, and dribbled some of the amber liquid down my chest instead. I frowned, and parted my lips to speak; but Ray set down the glass, and held a finger to my lips. “Will we be needing extra security…? I’ll take care of it… Yes, of course, I’ll wait…”.

With the phone still to his ear, Raymond licked the trail of scotch on my skin, from my collarbone, down to the top of my breast. My breath hitched at the sensation of his hot tongue. Just as he was about to move the cup of my bra down, to go for my nipple, he stepped back again. “Yes, I’m here… Did he…? Well, he’s a right cunt, but consider it handled… I’ll keep you in the loop. Goodnight, boss. Give my best to Rosalind”.

He hung up the phone, and put it on the counter next to me. His fingertips travelled over my thighs; avoiding my warmth. “Sorry about that, but you know how it is”, he said. “Now where were we…?”. “You were wasting a 1000-pound scotch on my tits”, I jeered. “1500”, Ray said. “And I wouldn’t call it wasted”. He took another sip of the scotch, but before he swallowed it, he put his lips to mine; letting me have a taste. “What was that about you not being worth enough? I usually don’t baste my meat in expensive whiskey”.

He put his hands on my ass, and made me scoot forwards on the counter. His fingers travelled down my belly, and finally met my folds; dipping in between them. I drew in a ragged breath, as he slid his fingers up and down. “Let’s have a taste���, he said, and removed them again, putting them into his mouth. “Sweet, bit tangy, perfectly moist”. He dipped his fingers again, this time letting one of them dip in to the knuckle, and crook upwards. I threw my head back, and closed my eyes. He removed the finger again, and I groaned. “Quit with the games, Ray”, I complained. “You started this, love”, he said. “I’m just finishing it”. “Then, bloody finish it!”, I retorted.

Raymond stepped back, corrected his glasses, and clicked his tongue chidingly. “Now, now. No need to be greedy. We’ve got all night. As you said, dinner plans are out the window”, he said. “Fine. I wasn’t hungry anyway”, I said. He raised a brow at me. “No? Let’s see if we can wake that appetite”. He thrusted two fingers into me, and used his free hand to get me to lie back; before moving it down to brush against my clit. “Please…”, I whimpered. “Please, what? Forgive me, Ray? I’ll never be a brat again, Ray?”. He thrusted his fingers upwards, touching my sensitive spot inside, as he began rubbing circles on my nub. “No…”, I said, not wanting to give in. I struggled to keep my composure, but as Ray began thrusting harder, and stroked deliciously at me, I was soon too far gone to speak. “I’m…”. “That’s what I thought”, Ray said calmly. I clambered to hold on to something, put found nothing but a rolling pin; which fell to the floor, making a clanking sound to accompany my own cry of passion, as I came.

Ray gently withdrew his fingers, wiped them of in a handkerchief from his pocket; and took my hand for me to sit up. “All good?”, he asked, his face not giving away an ounce of emotion. His pants were giving away enough, though; as the bulge on the front of them had grown quite a bit. “Living room”, he ordered, and as I got off the counter, and walked towards the door, he turned around, and quickly washed the mug in the sink. “Tea mug for coffee. Honestly…”, I heard him mutter.

As I stood in the dimly lit living room alone, waiting, I shivered from the chill entering through the still open door to the back yard. “Ray?”, I called out. “Coming, darling”, he responded, and he came through the doorway; walking over to the patio door, and closing it. He gestured at me to get over to the couch. “Knees”. He was carrying the whiskey-glass, and refilled it. “Don’t I get one?”, I asked. “No… I said; knees”. He sat down on the couch, legs spread casually, and looked on, as I got down on my knees in front of him. The elitist machismo in the room, was thick enough to carve with a butter-knife. “How’s the appetite?”. “Getting there”, I admitted. “Well, bon apetit”, Ray said, and gestured towards his crotch.

I rested my elbows on his thighs, and unbuttoned his pants; pulling down the zipper. Ray made no move to help me unwrap his erection, so I went on to pull down the elastic of his boxer-briefs as well. He let out a silent grunt, when I wrapped my hand around him; and I smiled at his respond to my touch. I began stroking the velvety skin on his hardness; and Ray took a sip of his drink as he watched me. I stuck out my tongue, and flicked the tip over the sensitive spot under the head; before flattening it, and sucking him into my mouth. Ray tasted as good as he looked and smelled. A perfectly expensive taste, with an undertone of something animal – dangerous even. I bobbed my head up and down, hollowing my cheeks to make my pull on his penis tighter. Putting my hand into his bowers, I managed to get his testicles over the elastic as well. This made me able to massage them gently; rolling them in my palm the way I knew he liked.

My vagina was still sensitive from Rays former treatment, so when he leaned forwards, ran a hand down my back – between my cheeks – and slid a finger between my folds; I almost came from just that second of contact. Ray sat back again, and continued his viewing of my work on his cock. “Don’t stop on my account”, he said. I made a swallowing movement, and another stifled groan came from him. I hummed slightly; making vibrations to add to the sensation. I added pressure to his testicles, and felt them tighten in my hand. Apparently, Ray was even more impacted by my treatment, than his face gave of. I released him from my mouth with a pop, and smiled sweetly up at him. “Enjoying yourself, Raymond?”, I asked. He cupped my chin. “You know I am, darling”, he smiled. “But it seems to me, you are as well”. I nodded, and bit my lip.

I went back to sucking him off, while he finished his drink. I could tell he was struggling not to grab on to me, so I took his free hand, and put it on my head. At first, he simply ran his fingers through my hair; but then held on to it, and began controlling my movements. I let go of his testicles, and held on to his thighs, as I let him take charge of me. Ray led me to take him shallowly; then pressed me as far down as I could take him. After a few minutes, he couldn’t keep quiet anymore, and let out audible grunts and gasps, accompanied by a series of fuck, babe and that’s perfect, darling. With one final deep push, his cock twitched; and he came in my mouth – holding me there until he was completely finished. He let go of me, and I sat back on my heels; swallowing.

Ray took a moment to calm his breathing, before getting on his feet, and helping me to stand in front of him. He put himself back into his pants, and led me in front of him, towards the bedroom. I knew we’d end up there at some point; and suddenly felt a chill down my spine, when I remembered the state, I’d left the room in. Before he could open the door, I stopped him. “Ray… Uhm…”, I started. “What?”, he asked. “I sort of left a mess in there… The closet…”. “Fletcher wasn’t in it again, was he?”, Ray growled. “No, nothing like that…”, I said. He gently pushed me out of the way, and opened the door; stepping inside, and turning on the lights. “The fuck…”, he said from inside. I moved up behind him. “At least I didn’t spill ketchup on anything…”, I tried.

Ray began removing his vest and shirt, not saying a word all the while. I was worried – and at the same time hoping – that I was in for another spanking. I went to sit on the bed, and heard Ray open his belt behind me. “No", he said calmly. I turned to face him, and saw he was shedding his pants and boxer briefs. Undressed, Ray was no less regal. He might as well be wearing a dinner jacket, and holding a glass of port. As it was, he was naked as the day he was born, standing proud and fit. I sent a thankful thought to his personal trainer; or, Coach, as I knew him. Ray put his clothes in the hamper, removed his glasses, and placed them on the dresser in the spot he always did.

“Seeing as you’ve thrown half the bedding on the floor, we might as well start there”, he said. “But the bed is right there…”, I said, slipping an arm around his torso. I ran my hand up his chest, and back down, running my nails through Rays pubic hair – as always, well groomed, and blonde as his head. He raised a brow at me, and caught my wrist, as I was about to take a hold of his penis. “And the red wine glasses were right within reach too, but you still chose something else", he said. “You asked for this, love. Its upside down-day".

With a swoop of his arm, Ray had me on the floor, and he patted my hip to make me roll onto my stomach. Once there, he gave me hard smack over my bottom. “Lift", he ordered, and when I did, he took the pillow; putting it under my hips, so my ass was raised in the air, and my chest against the duvet covered floor. I looked back over my shoulder, and saw Ray kneeling behind me. The view of my bottom and wetness had made him hard again, within record time; and he stroked himself a few times, while he probed my entrance with his fingertips. Stroking my cheeks with his free hand, he then gave me one more hard spank. With a firm hold on himself and one of my hips, he pushed into me; bottoming out with the first thrust.

“Oh, my… fuck!”, I cried out. Ray stroked my back up and down gently, and then spanked me again. “I thought my spanking was over”, I whimpered. Ray leaned over me, to kiss my neck, and speak into my ear. “Why would I stop, when you keep making those delicious little squeaks every time I do?”. He smacked me one more time, and I whimpered loudly. “There we are".

He began moving his hips, the blunt tip of his cock rubbing perfectly against my front wall. I rolled my lower body, and with the pillow under my hips, my back was perfectly arched to make the sensation of Ray inside me more intense than ever. Ray kissed and nibbled at the sweet spot on my neck, as he moved in and out of me. “You taste better than a Big Mac, any day of the week”, he chuckled. His warm breath against my skin, sent small jolts to my warmth, and I moaned wantonly. I clenched the muscles in my tunnel around him; knowing that it was one of his favorites among my tricks. “Fuck, you know what that does to me, love…”, he croaked. I repeated the action, and Ray let out a choked moan.

He placed a hand on either side of me, and held himself up to thrust shallowly, before bottoming out again. I craved his closeness, and tried lifting my body to have his chest against my back; but Ray pushed me down. He took each of my wrists in one hand, holding them behind my back, and grabbed a handful of my hair – holding on tightly, as he forced me against the floor. I was completely at Raymond’s mercy in this position. I couldn’t move my arms, lift my back or my head; and he had placed his knees between mine – making it impossible for me to put my legs together. All this brute dominance, and his casual upper-crust demeanor, had me feeling like I was in sex-paradise.

He went back to shallow thrusts, and then one deep one, trying to make me reach my climax by stimulating my g-spot. Soon after, he was successful; heat rose from my feet and all through my body, and I felt my walls contract. I cried out in extasy. I heard Raymond groan, trying to hold back his own orgasm; apparently not finished with me yet.

After I’d settled around him, Ray pulled out. “I’d love to shag you in the backyard now, but its late, and cold; so, if you don’t mind, let’s go for the bed", he said. “That works", I agreed, though my body was still convulsing. Ray leaned down and left small kisses up my spine. “Do you need to stop?”, he asked softly. “No! Please…”, I pleaded. I managed, with Raymond’s help, to get onto the bed; my legs shaking, and breath ragged. Ray grabbed the pillow and duvet, and quickly made the bed up properly; an impressive feat, as my exhausted body was splayed out on it. He got under the duvet with me, and gently spread my legs, to lay between them.

Hooking a leg around Ray’s hips, I pulled him towards me. “I think you’ve learnt your lesson, now”, he smiled, and stroked my cheek gently. I put a hand behind his head, and lifted my head to catch his lips with my own. Our tongues stroked softly against each other, and I let out a content sigh. “Soft finish?”, I smiled. Ray lifted his head, and raised a brow at me. “Fuck no”, he declared.

Suddenly, both my knees were hooked over his shoulders, and he pushed into me with a groan. My eyes rolled back into my head, as Ray began thrusting hard and fast into me; without mercy. Every thrust felt like it reached the deepest parts of me. Gone was the well-groomed gentleman dom. Ray was a wild animal, his jaw clenched, and pupils blown. His hands were holding on to my breasts, making his arms force my thighs together. I was sure that I would have bruises on both my breasts and my thighs from his attack, could not give less of a fuck; from the extreme orgasm that was building in my core. Crying out wasn’t enough; I screamed Ray’s name so loud, I was sure his neighbors would show up with noise complaints. In his current state, I was convinced he’d probably meet them in the door naked, telling them to either get in and enjoy the show, or fuck right off.

I grabbed his biceps, and dug my nails into his skin, leaving my own marks on my lover. My legs stretched out, and every muscle in my body tightened, as I exploded. Ray growled from my walls tightening around him, and the pain my nails were surely bringing him. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes burrowing into mine. My orgasm was at its peak, and my voice hit a pitch I didn’t know it could. Ray kept thrusting, and the feeling was getting so intense, I was unsure whether or not I’d pass out before long. “Please… I… Too much!”, I whimpered; as my body was thrusted back and forth from Ray’s movements. “Almost, baby. Keep going…”, he growled.

Just as I began thinking this is it. I’m going to die from too much orgasming, Raymond pounded into me three final times, and came inside me with a roar.

I was shaking as Ray dropped my legs from his shoulders, kissed my unmoving lips; and pulled out of me. He laid down next to me, and gave a me a crooked smile. “You still with me?”, he chuckled. “I just came… a lot!”, I croaked. “I could tell…”, he said, and moved a lock of my hair out of my face. “You’ll be happy to know, that so did I”. I laughed hoarsely.

“I should get cleaned up, before I get cum all over your Egyptian cotton sheets”, I sighed. “Fuck it. They were on sale”, Ray shrugged. I shook my head in mock confusion. “Excuse me?”, I said. “You bought something on sale?”. “Just keep it between us, love”, he said, and pulled me close, to kiss me. I tugged at his bottom lip with my teeth. “I still have to go pee”, I said. I crawled out of the bed, and made my way towards the door. “Please put the towel back on the hook, when you’re done washing your hands”, he called after me. I smirked at him over my shoulder.

Once I’d finished my business, I made my way back to the bedroom. Ray had already fixed up the bed, and left his spare robe for me over a chair. Putting it on, I searched for him; finding him clearing up the mess I’d made around the house. I leaned against the doorway, watching him. “I’m sorry”, I lied. “No, you’re not”, he said. After having put the plates in the dishwasher, he walked over to me, taking my hand and pulling me with him, to sit down on the couch; where earlier he’d been enjoying my lips around his cock. “And as much as I enjoyed screwing you senseless just now, I’d like to know where all this came from”.

I looked down at our joined hands. ”You’ve been avoiding going out with me”, I said. “I know I don’t fit in to your posh lifestyle, but…”. “That’s what this was about? Getting back at me?”, he asked. “Partly”, I admitted. “And I suppose I wanted to… make you see what I’m really like. So, you could make a decision to either accept me, or…”. “Finish it”, Ray finished my sentence for me. I nodded.

He sighed deeply. “Darling… First of all, the fact that you don’t give a shit about which fork to use, and throw your clothes around, annoys the hell out of me; and makes me love you even more”. I met his eyes, and let out a short breath. Raymond had never used that word before. “Love…?”, I whispered. “Fuck yes, I love you”, he smiled. “And you not only fit in my life, you’d leave one hell of a hole, if you left. So no, I don’t want to finish it. You’re not getting rid of me by feeding me fast food, and throwing your socks in my yard”.

I frowned. “Then, why are you always working late? Cancelling our plans?”, I asked. “Well, that is the second part of this conversation, I suppose”, he said. “I knew we’d get here at some point, but I’ve been putting it off… You know what I do, isn’t exactly legal”. “Of course I do”, I said. “It’s not normal to sleep with a .48 in the drawer of your bedside table”. Ray brushed his thumb over my knuckles, and continued. “We’ve been having some issues with another… organization, in town”, he said. “They’ve been making some threatening moves… I’m worried, that of you’re seen with me, they’ll try to use you to get to me”. My jaw dropped. “As in… They’d kill me?”, I croaked. “I don’t think they’d go that far, but I’m not willing to take that chance”, Ray said firmly.

I took a few moments to think. “Ray… you can’t keep me locked up in this house”, I said. “I’m more than happy to do what you ask me to keep safe; but at some point, I’d like to get out… make all those posh cunts jealous of my arm candy”. I tugged gently at his beard, winking at him. “Who says you’re not the arm candy, darling?”, he smiled. “What, in my 20 quid H&M dresses, and worn shoes?”, I scoffed.

Ray stood up, and led me into the kitchen. He grabbed the wrapped box. “Actually, that’s why I got you this”, he said, and handed it to me. “Now, that was quite a bit more than 20 quid, but I’m sure you’ll look just as lovely in it, as you do in everything else you wear”. I blushed, and began unwrapping the box, opening the lid, to reveal a beautiful cocktail dress; in my exact size. “I don’t have anywhere to wear this!”, I said. “And it’s too expensive to keep at my flat. I’ll get robbed. I had to buy a lockbox for those earrings you got me”. “Michael has a birthday-party coming up next weekend. His wife will have my bollocks, if I don’t show; with a date”, Raymond said. “So, I can’t cancel on you this time”.

I took out the dress, and held it against me. “Bringing me as your date for your boss’ party… that’s pretty official, love”, I smiled. “It is, and it’s about time”, Ray responded. “And as far as where to store it…”. He tilted his head, and looked pleadingly. “Please leave that rat infested hell hole of a flat, and move in here permanently. I have to take a shower every time I come home from that place”. “It’s not that bad”, I said. “My next-door neighbor bakes me cookies every Christmas”. “And the one further down the hall, sells smack out of his trunk”, Ray retorted.

I bit my lip. “You really want me here? With my novelty mugs, and sneakers littering the hallway?”. “Absolutely”, Ray assured me. “Gives me ample opportunity to shag you on every surface we didn’t make it to tonight”. “Even the table in the backyard?”, I grinned. “We’ll have to make sure the grill isn’t so hot, you burn your perfect ass”, he said. “What do you say…?”. “Fuck it. Why not…?”.

Ray smiled warmly, and wrapped me in his arms. “Just for future reference; I prefer Burger King over Mickey D’s”.

--- 

[targaryenimagines]

Tempering the Storm

Daenerys Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 2,164

Summary:

Notes: For @alphawolfworld— I hope you enjoy it. I decided to make my own little spin on it, which I hope you enjoy.

The harsh winds of the North whip at your face as you step from the rowdy Great Hall. Your eyes watering slightly because of it. Pulling your cloak tighter to your body you begin to make your trek back towards your room. Thick plumes of your breath being the only thing that accompanied you on your journey. 

You could still hear the faint sound of laughter and drunken shouts. Something that brings a small smile to your lips. Even if you couldn’t stand to be around the drunkards that inhabited the Great Hall, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth that they were able to be so happy. That they were able to find something to be so carefree about. You just hoped that they didn’t end up regretting it in the morning. 

With a smile, you hunker down against another strong surge of wind as you cross the courtyard. Your body canting to the side as you tried to right yourself. Alas, your body wasn’t used to the conditions that you had put it in. Something that you quickly discovered as your foot hit a patch of ice underneath the snow and your entire world flipped upside-down. The breath leaving your lungs in a whoosh of air as your back made contact with the cold stone of the ground. Thankfully it was slightly cushioned by the snow that made up the entirety of the North. 

Groaning, you flop your head down-- not having the energy to rise from the ground. Trying with all your might to ignore the cool liquid seeping into your clothes. Your eyes slip shut on their own accord as you imagine that you were simply resting against the warm sands of Meereen. The sound of crashing waves taking the place of howling wind. The harsh bite of the weather giving way to the gentle touch of the sun. When your eyes open once more you could feel the way your mood drops when you’re not met with the crystalline blue sky of Essos. A sight that you never knew you would miss so much. What I would do for this snow to become sand.

The soft sound of laughter pulls you out of your thoughts. Craning your neck, you had to squint through the thickening barrage of snow to see the figure approaching you. Even though as it drew closer and closer you could make out the familiar silhouette of Sansa Stark. A woman that you had grown rather fond of during your time in the North. You watch as she stops next to you with a gentle smile curling her lips. The blue of her eyes standing out against the stark fairness of her skin. Familiar waves of auburn being kept in a simple braid. Her soft voice filled with both amusement and concern. 

“Are you doing alright? I can’t imagine that you’re comfortable laying on the ground like that.”

You allow your own smile to appear as you looked up towards her. “I am doing quite alright down here. Why don’t you join me?” 

Her nose wrinkles at the offer. Her blue gaze tracing the lines of your clearly soaked cloak with a disgruntled air. “I would much rather stay where I am.” She turns her head towards the Great Hall-- a slight frown furrowing her brow. As if she was piecing together a puzzle that didn’t make much sense to her. After a moment her gaze meets yours once more. “Where is Lady Daenerys? Should she not be out here with you also?” 

A surprised look blossoms on your face at the question. Your own frown appearing as you mull over the words. The familiar warmth spreading through your chest as you thought about your dragon-- your Daenerys. But it quickly turns sour when memories of recent events come to the surface within your mind. Seemingly sensing your mood change, Sansa glances at the snow-covered ground with a pointed glare before she gingerly sits. Her back ramrod straight as she tried to ignore the feeling of it melting underneath her. 

Offering Sansa a weak smile, you begin to speak. “Dany has a lot on her plate right now. With the impending battle with the Night King and Cersei being a constant threat in the background.” You pause as a small sigh escapes your mouth. “It’s enough to make anyone feel pressured.”

“Has she been neglecting you?” Sansa seemed enraged by the thought. 

“No.” You shake your head at the mere thought of Daenerys doing so. “I just don’t see her as much I used to, but I know she tries her best to make time for me.”

Blue eyes darken at the thought. An expression flashing across her face that you couldn’t quite decipher. “I see.”

A silence settles over the two of you-- only the howling of the wind and far-off laughter permeating it. Opening your mouth, you try to figure out what you could possibly say to Sansa to soothe the situation. Even though you weren’t exactly sure what situation you were in. However, before you could, Sansa turns to you with a slight smile. Her expression much clearer than it had been a moment prior. 

“Why don’t we start heading towards your chamber? I think a change of clothing and wine between friends is more appealing than sitting out here. Don’t you agree?” 

Not knowing what to truly say, you simply nod. 

And with more energy than you were expecting, Sansa springs to her feet and holds out her hands towards you. Her normally closed off eyes sparkling with affection. 

“Then let’s go.” 

---------

“Did Jon truly do such a thing?” You ask in an incredulous tone. Not believing that the silent brooding man could ever do something like that. 

Sansa lets out an airy laugh. “I promise you it’s all true. Jon and Robb got into such mischief together.” A sad look flashes across her eyes before she can hide it. “I miss those days.”

Setting down your goblet of wine, you gently take Sansa’s hand in your own gentle grip. A look of complete understanding washing over your face. “I can understand that, but do you know who can also understand that. Better than anyone I have ever met?” 

She shakes her head in response, but there was the same look in her eyes from before. 

“Daenerys.” You frown at the small scoff that Sansa lets out in response. “I’m serious Sansa. Daenerys knows better than anyone how it feels to long for days long passed. To wish for a different future than the course you have been put on.” 

Sansa lowers her head-- her voice dropping to a low whisper. “You seem to old the Dragon Queen in high-esteem.” 

“I love her, Sansa,” you whisper back. “She has saved me more times than I can count. Has been there for me when I didn’t even know I needed someone. She has never given up on me. Has never faltered in her devotion for me. And I will never do so either.” 

An almost pained look appears on Sansa’s face at the clear conviction within your tone. It was a look that you suddenly understood. For it was a look you had seen many times before. A look that many potential-suitors held when they finally understood your complete devotion to Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. 

Sighing softly, you offer Sansa an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Sansa.”

She offers a weak smile in return. “Not as sorry as I am.”

Tightening your hold on her hand, you pull Sansa into a warm hug. Wrapping your arms securely around her as she buries her face into the crook of your neck. A silent understanding passing between the two of you in that moment. That everything was going to be okay in the end. 

The sound of your chamber door causes you both to jump away from one another. Your eyes widening at the slim figure standing at the threshold of the room. A furious violet gaze meeting your shocked one. 

Standing you take a slight step forward. “Daenerys?” 

You pause when her gaze seemingly freezes you in place. Her eyes turning to the woman behind you. A harsh look taking over her features at the sight. 

“What in the Seven Hells is she doing here?” 

With widening eyes, you begin to speak-- desperately wanting to salvage the situation. “Sansa and I met earlier in the courtyard, and after a brief discussion we decided to convene in my chambers for some wine.” You gesture behind you towards the goblets. “And after another brief discussion I decided it best that I should hug her farewell.”

Daenerys’s eyes narrow. “Then why is she still here if you were simply hugging her farewell?” 

You flounder for an answer. Your brain seemingly short-circuiting as you tried to speak. Luckily, a soft voice speaks up behind you.

“I was just leaving.” You wince internally at the sharp quality to Sansa’s tone, but you smile gratefully towards her as she passes you. Thankful that she was able to speak when you couldn’t.

Pausing for a brief moment beside you, Sansa murmurs. “I shall see you tomorrow.” She shoots Daenerys a thinly-veiled glare. “I hope you sleep well.” 

With that she exits the room. The banging of the door being the only sound in the room for some time. Taking a chance, you glance towards Daenerys’s still figure. Only to find that she was still staring at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher. 

You take a small step towards her. Your expression open and honest. “Dany, I promise what you saw isn’t what you think it was. I was simply offering her a hug as a friend. Nothing more.”

Her mouth twists down in a frown. “I am well aware of your intentions, my love.” She turns from you and moves towards the window. Her expression pensive as she takes in the sights just beyond the glass. “It’s hers that I am vexed with.” 

You frown. “What do you mean, Dany?” 

She turns to you with a slight smile curling her lips. The first she had offered you since entering the room. “Oh you must realize how she stares at you, my love. Must realize how she speaks towards you without a care of who overhears.” She turns her gaze back towards the outside world. “Her gaze is filled with that of longing. A deep-rooted longing for something that she can never have. The type of longing that keeps one awake at night. Her words simply highlighting the fact. For they show no inkling of self-perservation as she tries to take something that is already someone elses.” Sighing, Daenerys moves towards the bed where she gingerly sits down. “So, no, it’s not you I am worried about, my darling.” 

Clearly seeing the anguish within Daenerys’s violet gaze, you move to sit beside her. Taking her still gloved hands in your own. Your eyes pleading with her to listen to you. 

“Dany,” you mumur with a soft look on your face. Your hand coming up to caress her cheek. “There is no other person that I could ever see myself with. No other person that I could ever see myself loving as much as I love you.” You dip your head as your next admission comes out. “I am aware of Sansa’s feelings towards me. Even though I had no knowledge of it when I entered this room with her. She has since become aware of my complete devotion towards you. Something that will never change.” 

Daenerys’s eyes flash with various emotions. Though you could tell clear as day that her insecurities were eating away at her. 

“Truly?” She asks with a small tilt of her head. “Even when my plans have to take me away from you for long periods of time? When I can’t spend time with you like I used to?” 

You smile. “Even then. For I know that you will be just as miserable as I am. That we will both be wishing for the day that we can be in each others arms once more.” You bring your lips to hers in a small, chastised kiss. “I am yours, Daenerys. For now and forever.”

Daenerys smiles back at you. Her violet eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. “And I am yours, my love.” She wraps her arms around your neck and pulls your body flush against hers. Her mouth ghosting across your cheek towards your ear. Her warm breath fluttering against the shell of your ear. “I just hope you realize that the next time Sansa Stark tries anything I won’t be so forgiving.”

Chuckling, you turn your head and press your lips against hers. Relishing the feeling of having her in your arms. Any other thought leaving your mind as your hold her tightly to you. 

For there would never be anyone else you would ever need.

Not as long as you had her.

[qu1etwolf]

Dating Game

Chapter 6

You swallow your bite with a loud gulp, "You're gonna what now?"

"Dancing, doll. Been told I'm not half bad at it. Did you forget that we heard a band when we got here?" he reaches over to grab your wine glass out of your hand before you can take a drink and tries it himself before handing it back, "Not bad. A bit sweet for my taste, but it's alright."

"If I'm getting out there," you gesture at the stage, "I'm going to need something stronger than wine."

"Gotcha covered whenever..." he trailed off as Mary appeared almost out of nowhere with his drink, colder than she had been, "Can you grab the lady an old fashioned the next time you're at the bar, dove?"

She sat his drink down and smiled a little at the use of the pet name, "No problem. Anything else?"

"Nah, I think we're good. When are the guys playing tonight? I haven't been down here on a night they've played in a while. Covering anyone specific?" he nodded toward the stage.

"Probably in 10 minutes or so. Shouldn't be much longer. I don't think they have their vocalist here so it's probably just going to be instrumental. But I like that better anyway," she smiles a little wider as she checks with the rest of the tables in the room.

"I think you just saved us from having very bad service for the rest of the night. What's with her anyway?" you gesture towards the waitress with your wine glass before taking a larger than usual sip.

"Mary? Who knows. She can usually beg a dance or three out of me when I'm here by myself," he shrugs as he speaks.

You gaze at his face slightly more intently than you had been. He can't really be that clueless, can he? The waitress is jealous that he's not here on his own and he...simply doesn't notice? Or does he not care?

You aggressively gesture at him with a french fry before sticking it in your mouth, "You're going to dance with her before the night is over if I have to force you."

He sits up a little straighter and looks at you with an almost cute but very confused expression, "But.. I'm here with you. That's not polite. You don't leave your girl sittin' by herself to go off and dance with another bird. That's not how these things work."

You choke on the last gulp of wine as you see the band start to filter out from the back. "First of all, I am not 'your girl'. Second of all, it would absolutely make her night and you know it."

The faint noises of instruments being tweaked slightly steals your focus for a moment. You turn back around to see a face somewhere between mild anger and hurt. He reaches over and grabs your wrist, making you drop the fry you were holding. "No, you are not my girl. But tonight, you are. You can square with that or not," James says quietly before realizing the hold he has on your wrist is tighter than he intended. He glances down at his hand, your wrist, and the discarded fry, and immediately let go with a contrite expression. "Okay, I'll dance with her later. I promise. I'm...sorry."

Before the entire exchange can confuse you further and before you fall headfirst into the grey pools of ice looking at you like a sad basset hound, the band introduces themselves and breaks into pleasant slow instrumental jazz. A smile replaces the frown on his face when the music starts as if it was never there to begin with. Mary almost skips around the corner with your drink. She places it down in front of you with a napkin. You immediately take a sip and groan happily at the familiar bite of the bourbon.

"Oh. That's amazing. Keep these coming would you?" you say, taking a second sip of the drink. "See, that's much better than the wine." You fish out the cherry from the glass before popping it into your mouth.

He barks out a laugh, "Really? I didn't expect you to....of course, you'd like a man's drink. Why wouldn't you?" He shakes his head and lifts his almost identical glass to clink against yours. You happily down half your glass in one go watching his huge grin turn to an incredulous smirk.

You lift an eyebrow at his comment but before you can get a word out he is practically yanking you out of the booth by your waist as the song changes. You let out a stifled and confused squeak because he moved faster than you expected. Pulling you out of the booth, he plants a strangely gentle kiss on your cheek. "I promised you a dance after you had alcohol, did I not? Well, you've had alcohol and I'm not one to go back on my promises."

You start to utter mild annoyance and say that you were a really bad dancer but he shushes you with a finger against your lips before cheerfully kissing you on the nose. Is this really the same grumpy asshole you had been dealing with? His complete demeanor has shifted to playful, silly, and strangely affectionate. You will have to concede to Natalie later that she was, in fact, correct. You are actually enjoying his company.

He startles out of your thoughts by firmly grabbing your waist and taking your hand in his. "You've never actually properly danced before, have you?" James asks with a slightly confused tilt to his head.

"I was about to tell you that before you unceremoniously shushed me!" you say sternly with a glare.

"Well, we will start easy then. When I move my foot, you move yours. It's easier than it looks, doll, I promise. If you step on my feet it's no big tragedy. These boots have handled worse," he laughs before starting to guide you around the floor, waiting for you to stop stumbling and catch on. The hand against your waist is solid and you are certain you couldn't fall if you tried - and there were a few times you were afraid you might because he is positively beaming down at you and the way it lights his face up is beautiful. It is more than a little distracting.

It takes a song or two, but you finally stop misstepping, and he speeds up slightly when he notices. In no time, you are circling the floor. With a satisfied smile, he pulls you into his chest and you almost forget that you're moving. He slides the hand that was resting on your back to the base of the back of your neck, keeping your head against him. You can feel him humming quietly along with the song as it reverberates through his chest.

"See? I told you it was easier than you thought. Nat was right, I am having a great time. Thank you." The music was loud, but the words were quietly against your ear. Your resulting shiver makes him chuckle before he finally pulls you back to the table, exhausted and a little dazed. For a moment there you forgot how to use words.

Chapter 7

Dating Game Masterlist

Fic Masterlist

[wondernimbus]

book-thief — james potter

pairing: james potter x female!reader

prompt: reader and james fight over the last book on the shelf.

please refrain from plagiarizing my work. requests are always open!

[Y/N]'s arm stills in mid-air, hovering over the spine of the lone textbook as she makes eye contact with a familiar-looking boy whose hand is similarly outstretched towards the same book: Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage. It's the only one left on the shelf.

"Um," she says, pursing her lips as she grabs the book before he can even think about breaking eye contact. "Sorry. I got here first."

Diagon Alley is especially busy during this time of the year, less than a week before Hogwarts is set to reopen its doors to welcome a brand new set of first years and resume learning for the rest of the older students. Every single shop [Y/N] has gone into so far has been bustling with witches and wizards going about their shopping business—including Flourish and Blotts.

The bookshop's usually stocked shelves are almost empty. Most of the textbooks for [Y/N]'s year have gone completely sold out; according to the very frazzled manager, there had been an issue with the publishing house, hence they were short a good hundred textbooks or so for each subject. This meant that at least a hundred Hogwarts students were going to have to use a secondhand textbook or two during the school year.

And [Y/N] is not going to be one of them.

Feeling only a tiny bit guilty, she tucks the textbook under her arm, offers the strangely familiar-looking boy a half-assed apologetic smile, and resumes her shopping for textbooks. Weaving through the crowd of customers without even having to look up from the piece of parchment she clutches in her hands, she surveys her shopping list:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 by Miranda Goshawk Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage Confronting the Faceless A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch Flesh-Eating Trees of the World Advanced Rune Translation by Yuri Blishen

Two textbooks left to go. So far she's been lucky enough to get most of them without much trouble despite the shortage of books (unless she counts the awkward encounter with that boy back there). She mutters occasional "excuse me"s as she slinks past other customers on her way to the Herbology section of the bookshop in search of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World.

There are only three other people in the Herbology aisle—an old witch mumbling something to herself about leaping toadstools, a little witch no more than age five surveying a book titled "Devil's Snare and Its Devilish Secrets", and—

It's the same strangely familiar boy from before. The one [Y/N] stole very reasonably took the last copy of Advanced Potion-Making from. (She had gotten there first.) But he's standing all the way at the end of the aisle, and she's standing on the opposite end.

Judging by the fact that he seems to be her age and goes to Hogwarts (which would explain that sense of vague recognition she gets when she look at him), he's here for the same book that she is.

It's more of an assumption than anything, but her legs kick into action nonetheless and she starts speed-walking towards the shelf that holds Flesh-Eating Trees of the World. But the boy seems to have the same incentive as she does, and at a pace much quicker than hers courtesy of his annoyingly long legs, he reaches the shelf first.

Her entire world seems to slow down. Before she knows it, she's standing two feet away from him—and he has the last copy of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World clutched in his hands.

"Sorry," the boy says with a flicker of mischief in his tone, smiling smugly as he holds up the book in a manner one can only describe as ostentatious. "I got here first."

She blinks, watching as he nods at her before turning and disappearing into a different aisle.

Great—now she has to use an old Herbology book this year and hope that she doesn't get one that's been thrown up on or jinxed to bite her hands every time she opens it.

She scoffs to herself, shaking her head in disbelief as she looks around in search of someone to share her incredulity with, maybe say "Did you hear that? Absolutely unbelievable" as a means of ranting. But the old lady and the five-year-old witch are hardly fit for such conversation, so instead [Y/N] huffs to herself and goes to look for her last textbook.

She walks faster than usual on her way to the Ancient Runes aisle, still reeling a little bit from the ridiculous situation that had just unfolded moments before and cost her her Herbology book. When she catches sight of the shelf she's supposed to find Advanced Rune Translation in, much to her delight, there is only one book left on the shelf. Hers.

But when she makes a move towards it, a certain someone rushes past her. It's that boy again.

Oh no, he's not—

His outstretched arm reaches out for the last copy of Advanced Rune Translation, and her instincts kick in—she grabs the book before he can, but he has latched onto it too.

Eyebrows furrowing, she tugs the book towards her. He tugs it back to him.

"I'm sorry," she says, keeping her voice level as she stares up at him, forcing a friendly smile. "I need this book."

His nose wrinkles before he smiles back at her—that same look of obviously insincere friendliness. "Sorry," he replies, lips curling, "I need it too," he tugs the book in his direction.

With gritted teeth, she grips onto her side of the book persistently. "I need it more," she insists, the smile on her face slowly fading.

"I don't see how you can be the judge of that," he fumes, his smile drooping into a scowl.

"I got here first—"

"No, you did not—"

The both of them have completely dropped all pretense of friendliness, now full-on scowling at each other as they stubbornly engage in an intense tugging match for Advanced Rune Translation.

"Fine!" she exclaims, letting go of the book as she takes a step back, frustration bubbling in her chest. "Fine. Merlin. Have it, then, if you want it so bloody badly."

The boy grins in triumph, looking much too pleased with himself. "Correction: I needed it."

"Yeah, whatever," she grumbles, glowering at him. And then, in a much lower tone, "Prat."

The smirk on his face drops. "Excuse me?"

"Hm?" she hums, glancing at him innocently. "Oh, nothing. You have a good day."

Spinning on her heel, she makes her way to the cashier, still seething as she dumps her very incomplete set of books on the counter. What a prat.

—

[Y/N] steps out of Flourish and Blotts onto the busy street of Diagon Alley. A bell chimes as the door to the bookshop closes behind her, but the sound is lost amidst the sounds of conversation coming from busy shoppers passing by.

Sighing, she purses her lips and checks her school supply list. She has everything—everything but two particular books that were unjustly stolen from her by a strangely familiar pain in the arse—

Okay, you know what? What she needs right now is to cool down—and what better way to do that than to get ice cream?

A few minutes later, she finds herself in Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, sitting on a little table lined along the windows with a triple chocolate ice cream cone clutched in her hands. She tries not to look too sulky, but memories of that boy from the bookshop linger in her head that have her feeling irritated.

She's been staring out of the large glass windows for quite some time that her eyes have gone out of focus, so it takes her brain a while to register the fact that there's a boy standing right in front of the window, looking straight at her.

But it's not just a boy—no, this is the boy. The prat, [Y/N] has decided to call him inside her head.

She glares back at him. Annoyingly enough, he grins at her and raises his hand in a wave. What he does next has her gripping her ice cream cone so hard she's surprised it doesn't break, because the prat pulls out a book from his bag and waves it at her.

Written along the cover of the book are the words "Advanced Rune Translation".

Before [Y/N] can raise her hand and give him the middle finger, he averts his gaze and walks right into Florean Fortescue's.

She watches as he strides to her table before plopping down into the seat opposite her, setting the textbook down on the table. Her eyes flit to it before she looks up at him. If looks could kill, the prat would already be in the afterlife.

"Can I help you?" she asks, not bothering to hide the scorn in her tone. But just because she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction, she puts on a forced, sarcastic smile.

The prat grins. He crosses his arms, and whilst leaning forward in his seat, asks, "I suppose you go to Hogwarts?"

She regards him with a deathly stare. "Yes," she says, and then slowly, she repeats, "Can I help you?"

He ignores her question. "What house?"

Scoffing, she replies, "Ravenclaw."

"Aw, I was hoping you were in Gryffindor—but that wouldn't make sense because I'd be friends with you by now if you were."

She gives him an unimpressed glance. "Sure. Friends."

He raises his eyebrows, the impish grin on his face widening. In a flirtatious tone, he asks, "Were you hoping to be something more than friends?"

Her eyes widen and she scoffs again in disbelief. "Oh, Merlin," she says, shaking her head as she forces out a few breathless laughs out of frustration. "You are something else. Really."

The prat grins and leans back on his chair. "I'm James Potter. And you are?"

"Very annoyed," she takes an angry bite out of her ice cream cone.

Amused, he slides the book towards her on the table. "Because of this?"

"Because of a certain prat, to be more specific," she takes another bite of cone, chewing much too fast out of anger as she glares at him. "His name's James Potter—you might have heard of him."

The prat—James Potter—laughs. Actually laughs; a genuine sound of amusement. A look of feigned wonder comes across his face as he strokes his chin. "Why, yes, the name does seem familiar. Mind describing him for me?"

She rolls her eyes, but for some reason, she plays along. "He's tall. Looks like a tree."

"Interesting comparison."

"Black hair that strongly resembles a bird's nest—wow, he really does look like a tree."

He scoffs.

A tiny smirk tugs at the edges of her lips as she keeps going. "He's in Gryffindor, too, so that explains why he's such a prat."

He clutches his chest as though in pain. "Ouch."

"Oh, and I almost forgot. Silly me," she simpers, and then fixes him with a stony gaze. "He stole two of my textbooks."

James lets out an incredulous laugh. "Stole?" he repeats, shaking his head. "I got to the Herbology book first; it's only right that I took it. As for this one—" he taps the textbook on the table, "Technically, you gave this up."

She presses her lips together. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

He stares at her for a moment, mouth open as though to say something and his brows furrowed, and then he shakes his head and lets out a long breath. "You're lucky I find you pretty."

She narrows her eyes at him, ignoring the one—just one—butterfly that has been let loose inside her stomach at being called pretty by an annoying book-thief that a tiny, tiny part of her finds mildly attractive. Because he is a bit of a looker—she has to admit.

James Potter taps the book on the table and grins at her. "What if I decide to give this to you?"

"Bless your kind soul."

He laughs again. "No—really. What do I get in return?"

[Y/N] stares at him, trying to figure out whether he's being serious or not. Her lips bunch up to one side as she ponders her response.

"A name, perhaps?" James suggests, his eyes glinting.

She raises her eyebrows at him. "You want to trade a book for my name?"

He shrugs, drumming his fingers on the book cover. "Maybe. Yes."

"A book that you paid money for?" [Y/N] asks dubiously.

His bottom lip juts out as he contemplates his answer. Then he shrugs again, nodding. "Yes."

"Then you should've asked earlier!" she exclaims, sitting up straight and holding your hand out. "I'm [Y/F/N]."

James Potter lets out an amused sound, feeling something akin to fondness pluck at his heartstrings. He mimics the way she sat up straight, although his version is a little exaggerated—he quickly sits up, back rigid like a soldier being called to attention in a clear attempt to mock her. She gives the prat—James—a warning look; he grins at her.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, [Y/N]," he grips her hand firmly in his and gives it a shake.

Her lips tugging up involuntarily, she replies, "And yours."

Both of them drop their hands back to their sides at the same time as though afraid to hang on for longer than necessary. "So I suppose this is mine now?" she says, reaching out for the textbook.

James sighs heavily, shoulders slumping as he stares at the book with a dramatic, longing gaze. "I suppose so."

Hands hovering over the cover, she looks at him for confirmation. "You sure?"

He wipes a fake tear from his eye and nods. Rolling her eyes, she tries to hold back a laugh. "Alright. Okay. Um," she slides the book slowly towards her as if waiting for him to change his mind, but he doesn't. "Thanks.. um.. James."

He drops his dramatic act of despair and beams at her, crossing his arms as he props his elbows on the table. "You're very welcome, [Y/N]. Like I said—you're lucky I find you pretty."

She rolls her eyes, ignoring the warmth spreading across her cheeks. "Quite the flirt, aren't you?"

James shrugs. "Just being honest."

She gapes at him, at a momentary loss for words. And then she looks away, cheek twitching with a threat of a smile as she lets out a heavy exhale. "You really are something else," she mutters.

"Only for you, love," James grins. His eyes dart to the watch on his wrist, and his grin falters as he glances back up at her. "As much as I want to sit here and stare at you all day—"

"Annoy me, you mean."

James continues on smoothly like he hadn't heard her. "Unfortunately, I've got to go. I promised a friend I'd meet with him somewhere—his name's Remus, I'll introduce the both of you someday but hopefully he doesn't fawn over you too much. You've got the brains and the looks, after all."

She flicks her eyebrows up at him.

"Alright, well," James huffs, getting up from his seat. "I've really got to go—I'm already ten minutes late. I'll see you around Hogwarts, [Y/N]. Oh, and your ice cream's melting—I thought you ought to know."

With one final wink, James Potter backs away, keeping his gaze fixed on her as he goes. Just before he leaves the ice cream parlor, he gives her a mock curtsy, smiling, and then disappears into the crowd of people outside.

Feeling oddly breathless, [Y/N] blinks herself out of her reverie and then looks down at her ice cream. James was right—it is melting.

Couldn't he have said that earlier?

With a strange little smile on her face, [Y/N] finishes up the rest of her ice cream. And when she leaves Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour a few minutes later, there's a bounce in her step and a weird, fluttery feeling in her chest.

[mysoftboybensolo]

The Alienist and the Soprano

Chapter 6: The Disturbance

A/N:  This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!

Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!

Warnings: Age gap, a child is harmed, creepy break in of apartment.

Special shout out to @arizemo​​ for giving me encouragement to continue to write when I felt like giving up. You were the best and this is dedicated to you, even though I know you haven’t seen the show.

The sky didn’t look as promising as Laszlo had hoped, and was grateful that one of the staff members insisted that he’d bring an umbrella just in case, but he could swear that when he saw Evelina, the day seemed brighter and to him, there weren’t any clouds. “Good morning, Miss Lind. I trust you had a good night’s rest?”

“I did, thank you. I have not had the pleasure of walking this park yet, thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course, shall we?” He asked, gesturing with his umbrella, making her chuckle. For a while, they walked side by side, exchanging pleasantries, Laszlo pointing out the different birds, even the ones he couldn’t see but only hear.

“My goodness, you do know everything!” she laughed.

“When I was in college, I studied ornithology first, not quite sure what I had wanted to do, but then I had come to realize that psychology was even more fascinating to me. That was when I had met Moore and Roosevelt, I suppose they are the longest kept friends I have. This was in ‘77, so nearly twenty years.” He faltered for a moment, then said, “That must make me sound very old, doesn’t it?”

“Old? Nonsense, age was what you feel. Do you feel old? You don’t look it, if I may say. You are lean and fit, and you keep yourself in good condition.”

“I’m middle aged, Miss Lind.”

“Silly word. You are a man of the hills.”

“You may tease me as much as you wish, but I cannot help my age.”

“Your age?” she asked, surprised. “I never dreamed-” she stopped herself. I never dreamed that you’d ever think yourself as old, was what she would have said, but she saw the shadow in his eyes and decided to not further probe the topic. “You know,” she says, “It has come to my attention, that you still refer to me as Miss Lind. I believe we have come to know each other long enough to move past formality. Don’t you think?”

He paused to think and realized that she was right. They have known each other for a little over a month, and certainly their introduction was under a certain case of duress that helped bring them closer together. “I-I suppose so. It would be nice to hear you call me by chosen name.”

“Very well, Laszlo.”

Oh God, he thinks, how wonderful it sounds! As they walked, they passed a pair of ladies who stared at them with contempt and made a gesture of turning their noses at them, silently but effectively showing their distain for the pair.

“Do you think that was for me?” Evelina asked, trying to keep her voice light, though she was hurt by the gesture.

“I am certain that was for me. I am not the most well-liked man, and my profession is as frown upon as…” he paused, fearful he’d offend her.

Evelina smiled and nodded understanding. “As an opera singer. It’s alright, it can be said. A month ago, I had difficulty bearing the judging stares and snide comments, but I like to think I developed a thicker skin to bear it, even though it still hurts. I am sure they don’t bother you anymore, the comments on your profession I mean.”

He stopped completely then says, “Evelina, this is wrong.”

She looks at him incredulous. “What is?”

“That I should take up the time and friendship of…of someone so young and good as you.”

She sighed and grinned. “Oh, Laszlo, I am so glad I’ve met you.”

Now he looked at her incredulously. “But why?”

“Well, that’s just it. I am not sure why. I never met anyone that surprises me as much as you do, and yet, someone that I feel I truly understand. And the young ones are so boring. I am never bored with you!”

He huffed out a smile, shaking his head. “I didn’t think I was at all interesting.”

“Of course, you are! You put on this air of being steely cold and distant, but really, you are gentle and kind, and warm.”

“Do not be mistaken, I am nothing more than a cold, aging alienist.”

She shakes her head. “That’s what you try to make people think. And I know why. I may not know the details, but I know you did not have a happy childhood, and it made you feel as though you had to protect yourself from the hurt, but it also stops you from the joy you want.” Looking down at her gloved hands, which fiddled for a moment, she said looking back up, “Now, I told you why I like you, it’s your turn to say what you like about me. You do like me, don’t you?” She asks, her voice soft as she hoped she wasn’t wrong.

He speaks not a moment, then says, “Yes, I like you, very much. I like…that I feel safe with you. It’s a feeling I’ve not had much in my life. You make me think and smile, and, want to live.”

Evelina smiled and her eyes tender. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Laszlo.”

“And I-I’ve never met anyone quite like you.” He feels his heart race at her words, those blue eyes filled with an emotion that no one ever gave him before, and it filled him with many different emotions.

“Laszlo?” A voice breaks the moment, making Evelina and Laszlo turn to see where the voice came from. Approaching them were two young men, one tall and slim with a cheery disposition and the other a few inches shorter and sturdier with glasses. “Laszlo, we may have a lead!” spoke the sturdier man, who sounded quite excited.

“Oh, forgive us,” the slimmer man said, “We hadn’t meant to intrude.”

“Gentleman allow me to introduce to you, Miss Evelina Lind. Evelina, this is Marcus and Lucius Isaacson, they have been working with John, Sara and I on investigations.” Laszlo introduced them, pointing out to Evelina which man was who.

“Oh, yes, I do remember you. I recall Laszlo mentioning the both of you.”

“Likewise, Miss Lind. In fact,” Lucius spoke with a smile, “Laszlo has spoken of you on many occasions. It almost feels as if we know you.” Marcus gave a small but clear jab in the rib, making Lucius look at him in confusion.

Evelina blushed, pleased at the thought of Laszlo speaking of her to others. “Uh, yes, well,” Laszlo intervened, “Follow the lead and when we meet tonight, we’ll go over it. Good day,” his tone of voice may have been a bit curt, but it was understandable.

Marcus nodded and bid the pair a good day before guiding his brother away, trying to explain to him what it was they had interrupted.

Evelina felt her cheeks grow warm at the idea that she was talked of by Laszlo, that other people have heard him speak of her, she wasn’t just some secret friend he didn’t wish to be associated with. The soft rumble of thunder made them both look up at the gray sky and with a few drops falling, Laszlo opened his umbrella and held it over them both. Without thinking, Evelina had slipped her arm around his, allowing her to be sheltered more from the rain.

Laszlo gulped. Yes, he had escorted her a few times, he even escorted Sara, but how close her body was pressed to his side, the scent of rose and iris filling his nose, it made Laszlo feel like a schoolboy in the throes of his first crush. “Um,” he cleared his throat, “I should take you back home.”

As much as she was disappointed that the walk was cut short by the rain, she was pleased at the progress they had made. She felt certain that now with formalities pushed aside and the sharing of first names would lead to the next big step. But still, she was not certain. Did he just humor her since he had saved her and thought that she was a lonesome young woman, or did he have the same feelings as she did? His attitude at times made it difficult for her to decipher, but she wasn’t one to give up.

Reaching back her place, Evelina thanked him, and both felt the absence when her arm slipped away from his. But he had to return to the institute, and she had to be ready for rehearsals tomorrow.

Laszlo hurried back to the institute, and once he had returned, he noticed a group of children sitting on the floor along the wall, looking rather glum. “Oh, now why the long faces?”

“We were going to play outside, but then it began to rain, and sadly the children were very eager to go out,” Mrs. Gorenko, one of the teachers, explained to the doctor, helping him with his coat.

“Well, we can’t have disappointed children. I am sure that the great hall can be a perfect substitute.”

He smiled when he saw the children brighten up and exclaimed in excitement as they were led to the great hall to play. And as he returned to his office, he allowed the good mood to overcome him and he now smiled because of Miss Lind, or rather, Evelina. To say her name aloud was as much of a pleasure as it was for him to hear his name on her lips. Perhaps, he thinks, perhaps it is as he could hope it to be.

His mood was so high that he thought nothing could spoil this feeling, but a sudden crash and sound of children screaming broke his dreams. He got up and ran towards the sound, leading him to the great hall where children huddled in a corner, having been led there by Mrs. Gorenko.

He looked over and found Mrs. Gorenko knelt beside a crying child, his leg bleeding. Rushing over and falling to his knees, he looked at the child. “What happened?”

“I am not sure, doctor. We were doing our morning exercise, then suddenly, the window broke, and something flew into the room. Alastair tripped and his leg landed on the glass.”

“Check on the children, I’ve got him.” Mrs. Gorenko went to the other children, looking over them, while Laszlo examined the little boy’s leg. Alastair was only eight, smaller than the other boys, and it broke Laszlo’s heart to see him sobbing and shaking with fear. Other members of the staff came rushing in, wondering what the commotion was and came to help. Two of the nurses rushed over to Laszlo and they carefully carried the boy, rushing to the ward. “Get to work on his leg, he may need stitches,” he softly tells one of the nurses as he got up from the floor.

He went over and looked down at the little ones huddled, many of whom were crying, frighten by the disturbance. “Is everyone alright?” he asked gently and gave a quick scan over their persons. “Take them to their dormitories, no more lessons today for them, they’d have quite a shock as it is.”

Once alone, he inspects the window, followed the broken glass to where a large rock sat. Picking it up, he saw that tied around it was coarse yarn and a folded up piece of paper. He managed to slip the note out without tearing then opened it. The words sent a shiver up his spine.

I have my eye on you, Dr. Kreizler

John never got word from Laszlo to hurry due to great urgency, so when he arrived back home and received the message, he was quick to hurry right back out, despite his grandmother calling for him. He was led by one of the nurses to the big hall and his heart dropped to his stomach to see the sight. “Good God, Laszlo, what happened?”

Laszlo, who had been pacing back and forth, the look that John has seen many times of contained fury, and he knew it could not be good. “Someone threw a rock through my window, with this note attached.” He gestured to the note in his hands, stopped only to give it to John.

John read the note and he too felt his blood run cold. “Do you think it is the killer?”

“Who else? We must be getting close, if he could do such a thing. We need to get him before anything else happens.”

“Are the children alright?”

“Yes, for now. But,” his voice began to rise, “He intruded in their sanctuary. How am I supposed to explain to the children, that the one place they thought they were safe is no longer the haven they were promised? How can I take care of them if I can’t protect them from people like this?”

“We will catch this man, Laszlo, and all will be well.”

“You don’t get it, do you John?” Laszlo stopped pacing, yelling, “They came after my children! One of them got hurt, he may need stitches! What if the rock hit and killed one of them? My children were put in danger John, my children!” His voice cracked at the last words, forcing him to turn away from his friend.

John rarely ever saw Laszlo express an emotion that came from a place of caring, and it broke him to see how upset Laszlo was when a threat came to close, not to him, but to those he cares for deeply. John stepped up and placed a hand on Laszlo’s shoulder, gently, comforting. “We will get him, Laszlo. We will protect your children. I promise.” As much as Laszlo was touched by John's willingness to help, it did not ease his fears or disturbance.

But Laszlo was not the only one to be disturbed.

Going up the stairs to her room, Evelina hummed softly, thinking of the way he said her name, and stopped completely when she saw her door slightly opened. Her blood ran cold, and she carefully kicked the door open, but found no one there. Evelina looked about her room, nothing valuable was taken, but what sent a wave of fear over her was that her dresser drawer was open, and a pair of her knickers was missing. Her heart began to beat furiously and without thinking, she rushed out of the building and went to the first person she thought of.

Sara was shocked to say the least when she saw Evelina standing at his door, looking half out of her wits, desperate. “Evelina. What on earth?”

“I need help.”

She let her in and brought her to the drawing room, offering a whiskey, not thinking of how most women wouldn’t drink it. But Evelina gladly accepted it, downing the whole of it. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“My apartment has been broken into.”

“Oh my.” Sara sat beside her, offered a comforting hand. “Did they take anything valuable?”

“No,” Evelina said, and at first she hesitated, unsure if she should mention it, but then said, “They…they took a pair of my knickers.”

Sara stiffened, feeling shocked and a second hand fear. “What compels a man do to something so disturbing? Thank goodness you were not there, and that no one else was harmed.”

Evelina nodded, agreeing, but still shook. “I do not feel safe staying there. I am not sure what to do or where to go. Forgive me if I am a burden, but you were the first thought of when remembering our first conversation.”

“Not at all. I am glad you came to me.” Sara thought for a moment, then said, “If I came with you to your apartment to collect your things, would that make you feel better?”

“To collect my things?”

“Well of course. I can’t imagine you’d want to stay there much longer, so we shall have all your things brought here.”

Realizing what she meant, Evelina immediately began to protest. “Oh, I couldn’t dare ask. It is too much.”

“Nonsense. Even if you did feel comfortable staying, I wouldn’t feel right with sending you back alone. You shall stay with me for as long as you wish.”

Evelina’s eyes watered and she reached over to hug Sara, who at first was taken aback by the gesture, but welcomed it as she figured that Evelina was in need of comfort. “Thank you so much. I’ll pay you back,” she said, pulling away, “Whatever you’d like. I am not afraid of pulling my weight around here.”

“Really, it is alright. If the situation was reversed, I am sure you’d do the same. Now,” Sara stood, “Let us go and get your belongings.”

It was short work as Evelina did not have much, but Sara looked around the room, searching for clues, for anything to give a clue to who would do this. Whoever it was, knew how to return everything back to where things were, so he was smarter than your usual criminal. The sooner she’d get her away from this place, the better. Sara’s footman helped carry the trunk into the house and Sara brought her to the guest room. “You are free to stay as long as you wish. And I promise, I shall do what I may to figure out who did this.”

“No!” She quickly said, but then tried to explain, “I couldn’t drag you into this. What if this perpetrator is mad, a violent criminal?’

“It will take more than a pervert to stop me from helping you. Truly. And after all, if I intend to have my own agency to solve crimes, I will need the opportunities.” Taking her hands, she looked Evelina square in the eyes and said, “No woman should ever have to live in fear of being born a woman. And I meant what I said, we women must help each other. I am keeping my promise.” Giving a reassuring squeeze, she released her. “I’ll let you get settled in.” She turned to leave, but then stopped and turned back. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Tonight, a few men will be here to discuss a case.”

“You mean, John and Laszlo?”

“Yes, as well as the Isaacson Brothers. We are trying to solve the case of the murdered children. If you do not feel comfortable with the subject, you do not have to stay.”

“Thank you for the warning. At this point, there is not much I cannot handle.”

Evelina found herself situated perfectly and with enthusiasm hurried to join the gathering. All of them had arrived at the same time and were surprised to see an extra member of the group. “Evelina. You are joining us?” Laszlo asked, surprised.

“Evelina is staying with me indefinitely, so you shall see a great deal of her. And don’t worry John, I’ve already warned her of the nature of this case. No need to defend any ladies’ delicate natures tonight.” She teased, making him flustered. Evelina noticed and smiled, it was not difficult for her to see the attraction between the two.

“I shall get the tea,” Evelina offered, wanting to help as much as she could.

“Any news?” asked Marcus, as the team settled in their seats.

“Perhaps. Earlier today, a rock came hurling through a window of my institute, with this note attached.”

Sara took the note and looked at it. “Do you think he is closing in on us?” she asked as she passed the note along to the brothers.

“Who knows?” Laszlo said, taking the note back from Lucius once he was done examining it, stuffing it in his pocket, “But it unsettles me greatly to think he is close to my children.”

Evelina walked in at the last part and gave a quizzical look as she set the tray down. “Something is wrong with the children?”

“Thankfully no,” Laszlo answered, taking the teacup from her.

“Someone threw a rock through Laszlo’s window, we think it might be the killer,” Lucius filled in.

“No one was hurt, I hope?”

“One, he needed stitches, the others were just frightened, but they should never have been frightened in the first place.  Which is why it is imperative that we close in on this murderer.”

The evening passed in a feverish haze; Lucius and Marcus sharing their lead, everyone eager to work out the possibilities, and Evelina was there, trying to help keep things neat for them to work efficiently. She wished she was cleverer to help in their case, to actually do something worthwhile. But she also knew that any little bit could help them figure out why such a madman would want to hurt children in such a terrible way. Her eyes pricked with tears and she had to turn away at one point to dab her eyes with her handkerchief. At least the end of the evening seemed to be satisfactory enough for everyone had left with newfound hope and eager to start the next day. Laszlo and John were the last to leave. Evelina watched with amusement of how Sara and John danced around their feelings, and she wondered if she and Laszlo looked that way. She did sympathize with John, for he clearly adored Sara and Sara seemed to feel the same, but held incredible restraint from her feelings.

Laszlo didn't talk much around Evelina, as if company made him shy, as if everyone was watching him. But she understood, he no doubt had his mind on the case and he spoke her given name when he bid her goodnight, making her mind settle as she worried she offended him in some way. Both ladies retired for the night, and as Evelina laid down, she tried to wrestle with the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. Will she really be safe with Sara? Should she tell the whole truth of what she knows?

Tagging: @monsieurbruhl​​​ @flutterskies​​​ @sokoviandelights​​​, @cazzyimagines​​​​, @rumblelibrary​​​​, @fictionlandslanddreams​​​​, @violetmuses​​ and @barnesxnobles​​. If anyone else would like to be tagged, please let me know!

[voidstilesplease]

For @steoevents' SteoVDay

The Quest for Eros' Wayward Arrow (a demigod Valentine's au :)

Tags: 1.7k word count, fluff (??), Isaac's here, vague kinda confession but they get it, so are they together now? who knows.

I pretty much gave up on making an aesthetic for this one, so here's a cute gif I found on Google instead. It fits, I guess, since this is my last arrow! Happy Steo Valentine's everyone 💕

---

Walking the wet pavement on his way to his apartment, Stiles reaches inside his hoodie for his dagger, eirènè. His senses are tingling, alerting him that something is off - something is following him. Inconspicuously, he bumps against a stranger in an excuse to turn around, half-heartedly apologizing, while his eyes scan the space behind him. Nothing suspicious to the common eyes. Then again, monsters lurk behind the Mist.

He pulls the hood over his head and continues walking, his pace faster this time. February in New York is cold, rainy, and with the possibility of snow, but hundreds of people still walk around the city, trickling in and out of establishments. It's going to cause a ruckus if there is a monster trailing Stiles. But it's better to end it before it starts.

Passing by a flower shop with reflective glass panes, he spots it - a disturbance in the atmosphere as it knocks back a potted plant from the sidewalk. Stiles thinks he also hears noises and grunts. Facing forward, he sets his jaw and straightens his spine to get ready. Stiles's fingers close around tightly on eirènè, veering from his direction and turning sharply into an alley, walking faster, leading himself and his pursuer deep into a more deserted location. Up ahead, he finds a narrower passageway, and he makes another turn toward it.

Seconds later, he hears an empty can rattling. He shoulders off his school bag and chucks it to the ground unceremoniously. Then, he pounces.

•••

What he finds himself holding his blade against is not a monster, though. It's Theo in the camp's orange T-shirt, choking on Stiles's arm around his neck. When he realizes who it is, Stiles quickly releases his grip. He stares at the boy wide-eyed, in a mix of confusion and anger.

"What," Stiles gapes as Theo bends to cough. "What are you doing here?" Stiles's arms flail. "And why are you following me? I could've hurt you, you know, dumbass."

Theo points an accusing finger, still coughing a little. "Hey," he glares, rubbing his throat with his other hand. "I slipped a note in your pocket."

Stiles frowns. Someone had slipped a note in his pocket, but that was back at school. "You've been following me since school? I thought it was just a random Valentine's note from-" he cuts himself abruptly. It's probably unwise to be talking to Theo about a nameless admirer.

But Theo is already narrowing his eyes, "Who's giving you Valentine's notes?"

"Hey," another voice grunts out of thin air, male, startling Stiles to action, raising his knife again and making a defensive stance. He sweeps his eyes around but sees nothing. It speaks again. "Could you cancel the glamour now before Stiles sticks his knife to my forehead?"

The accent and dry tone is familiar, and just when Stiles places the voice to its owner, Theo touches an empty space with a sigh, and Isaac, son of Aphrodite, appears of thin air, holding a limp-

"Why are you carrying an empousa?" Stiles cries incredulously, looking alarmingly at the unconscious shapeshifter. It's female with a beautiful face but hideous one hairy donkey leg and the other a prosthetic one made of Celestial bronze - and lying like a sack of flour over one of Isaac's shoulders.

Theo steps forward, pursing his lips. "We're on a quest, Stiles." he says, "And we need your help."

•••

"So, let me recap," Stiles says after Theo and Isaac finish explaining a bit of the situation. "Somehow, a group of empousai got hold of one of the god Eros's magical love arrows." Stiles looks at the two demigods for confirmation. When they both nod, he continues. "And now, they're using that arrow to bewitch young men into entering this blind dating thing where these vampire ladies could suck the poor, loveless guys dry?"

Isaac nods, shifting the limp empousa onto another shoulder. Stiles grimaces at the creature. "Eros called in a favor from my mother to send a quest to retrieve it. Aphrodite appeared to me to do the quest. Ares bonked Theo in the head-" Theo rolls his eyes hard at this. It's a marvel how Theo is an expert at eye-rolling now. He must have picked it up from Stiles someone. "-to come with me. Now, we're on a mission to take back our shared brother's magic arrow on this fine day of hearts and roses. It's all very lovely."

Theo gives Isaac a flat book before turning to Stiles, "Hecate explains that she can't stop the nature of her children, but that she can assist." Theo takes a purple pouch from a front pocket and shows it to Stiles. "The goddess had Lydia send this to us. Invisibility dust. We have enough for the three of us to come in undetected into the building where the empousai are holding the blind dates. At least, for a few minutes."

"What perfect occasion to seduce desperate men to their deaths other than Valentine's Day, huh?" Isaac quips from behind them, grinning dryly.

"Okay," Stiles says nodding, "and why do you need my help exactly?"

Theo pauses for a second, caught off-guard, recovers, then shrugs casually, "You're a very skilled demigod, and from around the area."

Isaac snorts loudly.

"Shut up, Isaac," Theo grinds his teeth without turning to him.

The empousa on Isaac's shoulder shifts and moans, but Isaac commands her to sleep again. She hangs limply once more - just like that. Charm speaking is handy and definitely scary.

Theo shakes his head, exhaling a long-suffering sigh. When he looks at Stiles, he puffs his chest and straightens as if he's about to reveal a life-altering secret. "It's true. We can use your battle expertise. But there's also something else," Theo takes another pause. "The presence of Eros's arrow won't beguile only four people: his children, children of Aphrodite, Hecate's children because it's currently under enchantments by the goddess' followers, and-" he stops again, wetting his lips. "anyone touching or near someone they're in love with."

For a second, Stiles stops breathing, quickly understanding the implication. It still throws him off-kilter, though. Did Theo really just-

"So," Theo speaks again, stepping closer, looking into Stiles's eyes. "I need you with me in this quest."

Isaac makes another impatient noise in the background, but Stiles cannot focus on anything else at the moment. His vision tunnels on Theo and the honesty in his eyes.

Finally, swallowing with butterflies in his stomach, Stiles finds his voice. "How do you know it will work on you?"

For a moment, Theo looks confused. Then, he laughs at the question as if it's ridiculous that Stiles even asked. "It will," he says with absolute certainty that his eyes are bright with it. "After all, it worked on Calypso's island. I have zero doubts."

At the mention of Calypso's island, Stiles becomes aware of the cold pendant of Theo's Christmas gift, sitting on his collarbone with the words for bringing me back from Ogygia where three azurite stones sit as proof of the mythical island's existence. And how Theo came back from it. Stiles's hand reach unconsciously to feel it, now familiar to his skin after over a month of wearing it with his camp beads.

Theo's eyes track the movement, smiling when he realizes what Stiles is touching. It's the first time Theo sees it on Stiles.

Stiles clears his throat, forcing down the heat rising to his face, only faintly aware of Isaac murmuring behind them - probably charm speaking pedestrians to walk the opposite direction or just muttering to himself about the delay. From the corner of his eyes, Stiles sees the son of Aphrodite move the empousa to the other shoulder again. But it feels as if it's happening miles away from him and Theo. Hands falling to his sides, he puts eirènè back to its sheath. Then, Stiles opens his mouth and asks, "How do you know it will work on me?"

Theo falters at that, studying Stiles's face as he considers the question. Then, his gaze drops to where the pendant is and flicks back up with a reply, "Won't it?"

Stiles bites the inside of his mouth to stop the dumb smile threatening to break through his face. But he knows his eyes must be laughing because Theo grins dopily at him, taking cue from his reaction, making Stiles's insides somersault in a giddiness he only ever knew with the son of Ares, of all people.

"You guys are pathetic," Isaac comments, and it's without heat that Stiles kindly tells him to shut up.

"All right," Stiles announces cheerfully after a few seconds of daffy staring, feeling like a total dork. He picks and hoists his school bag on his back. Belatedly, he thanks the Fates that he left all his textbooks in his locker. "Let's go, then."

"Finally," Isaac grumbles, opening his palm expectantly for the pouch of invisibility dust. "Do you realize I've been carrying her for a while now? This girl smells like a fried donkey."

Theo passes it to him, not losing the silly smile on his face, then fishes something from his back pocket. "Here," he hands it to Stiles.

Stiles takes the object. It's- "A Valentine's card?" He asks in amusement, but his heart is dancing in his chest, and he wants to melt inside, giggling. Di immortales. He can deal with cocky, short-tempered, impulsive, asshole children of the War god, but he can't handle the sappy ones. Stiles wants to swoon like no respectable son of Athena should. It's as disconcerting as it's pleasant.

Theo shrugs, looking so attractive with his eyes alight in happiness instead of fury. "At least, I get to give it to you this time. Happy Valentine's Day, son of Athena."

"Are we going or what?"

Stiles allows himself to laugh then, ignoring Isaac. Really, he should be more excited about this development. Aren't children of Aphrodite notoriously enthusiastic about match-making and romances? Stiles opens his backpack to keep the card in safety. He feels inexplicably light at the moment that he thinks he might float. Gods, he never knew he missed Theo, but he desperately did.

"Happy Valentine's Day, son of Ares," Stiles answers, taking Theo's hand when he extends it. "Now, let's go put some bloodsuckers back to Tartarus."

Theo smirks, brandishing his free hand in the air to conjure a weapon, a skill he now artfully masters. Instantly, a celestial bronze sword appears in his hand, folding smaller and smaller until it's nothing but a ring on his finger. It's so fucking hot. "It's a date."

~•~

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Ezekiel ‘EZ’ Reyes x Obispo ‘Bishop’ Losa daughter! Reader

Anon #1 asked: Hi 💕 obsessed with your writing! I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is Bishops daughter so she’s jokingly referred to as a “forbidden fruit” cause she’s hot but none of the mc can have her because of who her dad is. But she starts to fall for either Angel or EZ? (Either one you pick 🤘🏼) thank you 💕💕

@ly--canthrope asked: I lied! I have a 3rd one for Ez haha. Not much of a prompt, but can you build a scene around this please? -- breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths- thank you so much!

Word Count: 1.5k

Author comments: This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @xxrouxx

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan @lady-pswrld @minnicelli @marquelapage @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @jadesamhart ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“Yeah, you hit him hard, man”. Coco cheers EZ, once he's out of the ring and the Stockton members are picking up what is left of their prospect.

“Good job, lil'bro. You fucked up that bitch”.

“So, what's your prize, ah? Choose”. Gilly says offering him a beer.

“I'm gonna ask (Y/N) to take care of me”.

“No, no, no, no”. Coco replies, placing himself in front of him to stop his feet.

“The hell you sayin', brother? That bitch left your brain out of you, or what?” Angel narrows his eyes, shaking lightly his head.

“She's the forbidden fruit, carnal. Don' get into more troubles”. The mexican with long hair speaks.

“Prez looks happy teasing Oscar because I won”.

“Prez looks happy 'cause it's his daughter's birthday. ‘Best day of his life’, as he always says”. Gilly surrounds his neck with an arm, while continuing walking to the bar on the crowded yard.

“I will do it anyway”. Having a long sip of his beer, EZ gives it to his brother, taking the advantage to look for you.

You're sitting close to your father, clinged to one of his arms, having fun with your tíos and your family from other charters. It's your 21th birthday and Bishop decides to have a party with all the Mayans. So, the whole Santo Padre knows you're celebrating. It's the first time you see them all reunited, being the center of attention even if you don't like it. Every five minutes, a member walks closer to greet you, as if you were some kind of princess. Yes, your father is El Rey de los Mayas, but you're not sure what position it gives you.

Your eyes travel to the crowd, observing the younger Reyes coming with self-confidence and security towards your position. Sitting up on your chair, you smirk at him trying to not show how nervous you are. Should be illegal see this fucking good after a fight. You like him. You like him at the point you dream with him. But it's a shit that he hides what he feels because of Bishop. Just like you do. He's the most interesting man you have never known. Sometimes you try to figure out why the hell he joined Mayans, but then you see him riding his bike and your head goes blank.

“Congratulations, Ezekiel”. Your father compliments him with a huge smile on the corner of his lips.

“Thanks, presidente. I was… asking myself if (Y/N) could help me to fix me up. Angel sa—”.

“No”. “Yes”.

Bishop and Marcus talk in unison. The men look at each other, frowning a little. You're in the middle of them, raising your hands to both chests.

“Club business, caballeros”. Making fun of them, you get up from your chair holding EZ's hand.

You let him lead you to the inside of the clubhouse, looking for the medical kit to heal his face. Letting go his fingers tangled in yours, you cross the main hallway to the bathroom to take all the stuff you can need. Carrying it among your hands, you come back to the younger Reyes with that smile that makes your legs shake since you met him a year ago.

You ring the bell, holding with a hand the glass tray full of tamales, your best friend's favorite mexican dish. Coco opens the door with a cigar between his long fingers and a serious look on his face.

“We don' wan' publicity, thanks”. He says before trying to close the door on your nose.

“Don' you have a moment to talk about our lord Itzamná?” You joke on him, hitting the wood with a shoulder to come in.

“Ah, bueno, si es un Maya… pues sí, digo, no más, pasa, pasa”. (Well, if it's a Mayan… of course, come in, come in). He replies gesticulating exaggeratedly, starting to laugh.

“What's up, Coquito?”

The mexican takes the food from your hands, leaning to leave a loud kiss on your check.

“Hey, lil'mama”. The oldest Reyes surrounds your neck with both arms from behind you, kissing the top of your head. “Come're, I wanna introduce you to my brother”.

“The famous Ezekiel”.

“Oh, stop”. He clicks his tongue somewhat jealous, leading you to the kitchen. “Hey, EZ. That's (Y/N), Prez's daughter. So, don' try anything sexual with that smile yours”.

“Angel!” You break in laughs, before focusing on his brother.

“What's up? I'm Ezekiel, but everybody calls me EZ”. The younger Reyes leans forward surrounding your waist with an arm, pushing you closer to kiss your cheek.

You already know that you're fucked and in love.

“Don' lie, brother. We all call you ‘boy scout’!” Coco's words make you both laugh.

“You like adventures?” You ask trying to not sound as if you're flirting. But you are.

“And you?”

“Of course”.

“Yeah, well… What can I say then? I can make fire with everything, that's a good point if you wanna go hiking”.

“I'll keep it in mind, boy scout”.

EZ sits on the poker table, settling yourself between his legs to make it easier to clean the blood on his face with a wet soft towel. He doesn't set apart his eyes from you, on how focused you are on taking care of him. As if he was the most delicate thing in your life. And you're trying to not fall more for him, in case that it's possible. He doesn't need stitches, being enough using some iodine to cover the wounds. Looks like you're an artist in front of her masterpiece, watching him breathe somewhat nervous too close of you.

“I asked for a birthday wish that you don' kiss me tonight”. You mumble, getting lost in his eyes with both hands resting on his lap.

You're not going to blame the alcohol you have been drinking, but you're not in your best moment.

“Saying it will not be fulfilled”.

You can feel his long fingers, a little damaged, touring your hips until they flow on your lower back making you take a last step forward.

“Analyze the phrase, smart boy”.

Narrowing his eyes, and having some seconds, EZ begins to draw a sly smile shaking his head for an instant. Now, he has understood it.

“You wan' me to kiss you?”

“Technically, I don' want you to no kiss me”. You point out, emphasizing each word, containing a loud laugh. “That's what I said. More or less”.

“Tonight”.

“Yeah', tonight”.

“What about tomorrow?” He mutters, raising up a hand to the right side of your neck, caressing the line of your jaw with a thumb.

“I don't know, EZ… I think my last brain cell collapsed”. Pursing your lips, you're almost touching his.

He laughs between his teeth, before kissing you. Your heart has collapsed too, when the adventurous hand goes up to the back of your head, while your mouths fit like two pieces of a puzzle. In perfect harmony. No rush. No nerves. Nothing. You're calmed, enjoying the taste of beer on his tongue, and the taste of tequila on yours. His lips aren't soft, but you're in love with them, with him, right as he is. Al carajo with that your father said. If he is playing his skin for you, you're going to do the same.

Your fingers roam his bare chest, noticing that he's breathing somewhat better, pressing his hand on your back to push you a little closer. Up to his neck, your fingers wrap it softly while he bites your lower lip so sensual that, if he wasn't holding you, you could fall down.

“Your father is watching us”. He whispers onto your mouth, caressing your nose with his.

Your cheeks are burning when you turn between EZ's legs to the main door. Bishop is resting against the frame having a drag of his cigar and carrying a closed bottle of tequila. You know what it means. You made him the promise that you would get drunk together, now that you can ‘legally’ drink.

“I have… to leave. Put some ice on your knuckles, okay?” You say to the younger Reyes, and he simply nods.

El presidente is killing him with his look, offering you a hand to hold it and take you away from the prospect. Going downstairs, he puts his eyes on you with an incredulous gesture.

“It could be worse, dad”.

“Oh, really? Surprise me, mi amor”.

“Could be Angel, instead of EZ”.

“Why the fuck you have an answer for everything, ah?”

“C'mon, dad! It's my birthday”.

“Yeah, the anniversary of the best day of my life. But we're going to talk about it tomorrow”.

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Rough Drafts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of a murder scene, argument, angst, and cursing.

A/N: Okay, so I know I said I was gonna publish this yesterday but I got Cassandra Clare’s newest book and I couldn’t put it down. I seriously love that lady. Omg. Anyways, it’s here now! And it’s angsty! And there’s gonna be a fourth part soon I promise! For real. Don’t forget to reblog, comment, send me an ask or a message and overall just adore me so that I may continue to feel good about myself. As always thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy!!!

[ Part One | Part Two ]

___

An incredulous laugh bursts from your lips, your nails cutting crescent moons into the palms of your hands as you try and convince yourself that this isn’t actually happening.

“Do you have alibis for your whereabouts on Monday, June eighth, Saturday, June thirteenth, and Thursday, June eighteenth?” Spencer can see your leg bouncing rapidly under the table, your eyes flying over the pictures and the expression of Emily Prentiss. You seem genuine, but he can’t trust himself to get an accurate read of you anymore.

“I, uhm, I- I wouldn’t know off the top of my head. I keep a planner, I’ll forget things otherwise.” The burst of iron in your mouth is not something you’re unused to, having chewed your cheek so badly that the skin there has broken under your teeth.

“We’ll need to see that.” Emily isn’t sure whether or not she believes that you’re guilty, watching the way you seem to unravel before her. When you look at the crime scene photos, it isn't with any pleasure, but with disgust. Your nose wrinkles a little at the bridge and you keep looking away as the blood from your face starts to drain. 

Either you’re a really good actress or you aren’t the unsub.

Emily says as much as she flips through the small teal planner that you’d willingly given them. Due dates for chapters, publishing events, book signings and days for book tours fill most of the pages in your most neat handwriting. Dates you plan to go visit your mother, grocery shop, doctor’s appointments, even plans to go somewhere and write.

Everything is explicitly stated, that way you’re never unsure of what you meant to tell yourself. That is, until around three weeks ago when a handful of days are notated with an ‘S,’ followed by a random doodle. Sometimes it’s a tiny heart drawn absentmindedly while you discuss the plans over the phone, other times it’s a cartoon bunny or a top hat.

Garcia is the first to take notice of it, her fingers faltering in their constant thrum against the keyboard in front of her. She glances out of the side of her glasses, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Looks like lonely girl found herself a boo.” 

“That makes sense,” JJ says from the chair she’s pulled into Penelope’s office from the bullpen. A pen is stretched between her hands, her posture relaxed into the curve of the stiff, government-issued rolly chair.

All the girls have gathered into the tech analyst’s room while the men take turns interrogating you. Well, all except Spencer. He just stands behind that window watching your every move with eyes like a hawk. “What doesn’t make sense is why she keeps it secret even in her personal planner.”

“Maybe she has a stalker? That could be who is doing all this?” 

“Then she wouldn’t keep careful notation of everything else going on in her life. A stalker would follow her every move, not just her romantic interests. Even if he is in love with her.”

“A partner, maybe? Like the days they planned the murders or days they were acted out?”

“None of the days line up with the crimes, save for this one,” Emily leans the book toward the two women with her finger just underneath June fifth, the day Alison Crane was abducted from outside her campus dorm room. It’s the third ‘S’ scribbled into the corner of a day in the entire book.

“And there is nothing else written in relation to this ‘S’ character?” JJ shakes her head, looking for any clues that could be nestled among the loops and curls of your writing. Reid would be better at this, he was the graphology expert among them. So why wasn’t he back here helping?

“Then I guess we better try and get her to talk about it. Meanwhile Garcia, we’ll get Rossi and Reid to head over to her apartment and you can hack into her computer?” Penelope spins the chair, a flash of bright colors and blond hair. She clicks her tongue in response, throwing up a fingers gun and winking.

“Whatever you need me to do, I’m on it like sexy on Derek Morgan stepping out of the shower in a towel.”

After some arguing, and maybe just a little bit of pleading, they manage to convince Reid to join Rossi on a trip to your apartment. He can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, standing in your living room. Not because he’d been here before, but because he’d never been here before.

The empty mugs that litter every surface, smelling of old coffee and your favorite coffee creamer (he only knows it’s your favorite because you explicitly ask for that creamer at every coffee shop the two of you have ever gone to), is unfamiliar to him. He’s invited you to his apartment at least three times. How come he had never been to yours?

Small pages and notebooks of scribbled ideas and dialogues cover just as many areas as the coffee cups do, your handwriting messy and cramped in every note. It’s almost like you couldn’t get the idea out of your head fast enough.

The bed in your room is meticulously made without a wrinkle in sight, but that could be because of the obvious bed you’ve made yourself along the salmon pink couch that stretches out in front of your TV. A multicolored crochet blanket is thrown haphazardly over the back, a pillow still slightly squished against the arm.

On the coffee table is a half opened laptop, a notebook with red and black ink scribbled in the lines, and a still full cup of coffee. Rossi makes quick work of calling Garcia and helping her get patched into your computer. It’s strange, watching her move the mouse on your screen from miles away.

Reid never stops moving, walking the length of your studio apartment with his eyes peeled for any kind of information he could find. It’s obvious that you spend most of your time in the main room, which houses the kitchen, a small dining area, and the living room. A door leading into your room branches off to a small bathroom which is just as disorganized as everything else in your house.

Hair products, skin washes, and all kinds of makeup are scattered across the sink and back of your toilet. It’s funny because every time he’s ever met up with you, you’re bare faced and your hair is still drying from the shower you took before leaving your house. The tube of lipstick he picks up makes him think he doesn’t really know you at all.

On the nightstand in your room is a bottle of water with the label ripped off and the two Rossi books you’d bought that fateful day in the bookstore. The label from the water bottle is stuck between the middle pages of one of the books. The passages in question don’t lend anything to connecting you as a homicidal maniac, let alone a serial killer.

Back in the living room, Garcia is snooping through every aspect of your computer.

“I don’t know whether or not the be freaked out by her web history. There’s a lot of murder-y questions here. ‘Signs of a post mortem amputation,’ ‘How much blood can you lose and still live?,’ ‘Most brutal ways to be killed.’ It’s creepy.” Rossi is flicking through the notebook from the table, his eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of the abbreviations and scribblings of another writer.

“She writes crime novels so it isn’t entirely strange for her to be looking at those types of things.” Thankfully, the defense of your web search history comes from the older man who looks up as Garcia delves deeper and deeper. Spencer had thought it first, but hadn’t said anything to avoid suspicion. He’s smart enough to know that the truth has to come out eventually, but he wants to be sure of your innocence (or guilt, he reminds himself a bit glumly) before he reveals your link to him.

“I’m not seeing anything she could be using to contact a partner unless her partner is one of the publishing people she’s constantly messaging via email.” At this Spencer stops, leaning against the back of the couch with his weight resting on the heels of his hands. The stance appears relaxed. He is anything but.

“Why do we assume she has a partner?” Reid asks, impatiently pushing a stray curl away from his face. Rossi glances at him curiously, otherwise undistracted from the shake the movement gives the couch.

“Oh, Prentiss, JJ, and I were looking through her little teal book earlier and the only thing not explicitly stated was just the letter ‘S.’ It’s why they came back to interrogate and they sent you guys to her house. I thought they told you.”

Spencer wants to beat his head against the wall.

“That isn’t a lead, Garcia. You have to tell them that ‘S’ isn’t her partner.” The mouse on the computer screen falters, several saved documents for different rough drafts of books or drabbles are pulled up the way you might have papers scattered about in front of you.

“What is it? Do you know who ‘S’ is?” Rossi is turned sideways on the couch, looking over the back and up at the distressed man in front of him. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots when they make eye contact. Penelope impatiently whines over the phone.

“I’m ‘S,’ I’ve been seeing her for the last three weeks. I’m sure if you tell me the dates then every single one of them will be days that we’ve had plans together.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Before anyone has the chance to say anything else, the door to Garcia’s office opens and a second voice filters through Rossi’s phone speaker. It’s JJ.

“Let Reid and Rossi know there’s just been another murder.”

This time it’s a fifteen year old girl. Her hair is black and wet, her lips are as blue as the sky, and she’s naked. Water droplets from her skin have soaked into the sheet of paper that was layed over her chest. The bathtub she’s in is completely empty, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that she was drowned there. The bruises on her shoulders from the force the unsub used to pin her down are dark against the contrast of her already pale skin.

...The man leaned over the tub, his eyes squinted in thought and his lips skewed a little to the side. Ryder stayed focused on the crime scene, for the most part. But even detectives of her caliber, and higher, could easily get lost in the eyes that look up at her from beneath long golden-brown lashes.

“Detective?” She blinks the distraction away, looking back at the girl, her black hair wet and spiraling like the snakes on Medusa’s head against the ivory siding of the drained tub. Ryder can’t help but wish the girl had been lucky enough to turn her killer to stone. Maybe it would have saved her.

“Agent.” She crosses her arms, looking anywhere but at the man across from her, pretending to look for any useful clues. Ryder had gotten to the crime scene fourty-five minutes before the pair of FBI Agents had walked in. The man, who had introduced himself as Supervisory Special Agent Matthew Gray, had decided to join her in the second floor bathroom. His partner, a woman named Katherine Swift, had taken to looking for clues through the rest of the house.

Agent Gray is beautiful. It’s the only adjective that seems to stick to him with certainty, every other aspect of his personality just as elusive as the exact color of those eyes. Even as short as his hair is, the golden brown tendrils are unkempt and curl every which way. Ryder has to force her hand to stay at her side and not reach up to smooth an alfalfa that does nothing for the serious expression on his face.

She keeps imagining what it would feel like if he reached out to kiss her, curling his fingers into her hair and bringing her unworthy lips up to meet his. He’s tall so she would probably have to stretch a little, but she wouldn’t mind. Not when his hands are tangled in her hair and he’s giving her the kiss she’s been silently begging for since the moment he flashed that crooked grin at her.

The imagination is so vivid that she jumps when her own partner, Detective Russo, comes around the corner of the hallway and straight into the bathroom...

The paper crinkles in the evidence bag as Morgan places it on the table, trying to ignore the daggers being glared into him on the other side of the mirror.

Nobody on the team had been very happy with Spencer when they heard the news about your relationship, Hotch had nearly snatched him by the scruff of his neck when he made to go into the interrogation room. But after several minutes of thoroughly explaining himself, Hotch had sent Morgan in. To say Spencer was infuriated was an understatement.

“Do you know what this is, (Y/N)?” You look down at it, twisting the evidence bag so that you could read the Times New Roman font you always wrote in when writing in Microsoft Word. The words cover the front and back of the copy paper, but you don’t have to read it through all the way before you know what it is.

“It’s a page from my newest book.” The bag scratches against the tabletop as you push it away from you, crossing your arms over your chest. Your face is stoplight red with embarrassment at the thought of Spencer reading this page, mostly because you had pulled so heavily from your own thoughts when first meeting Spencer to write Ryder and Gray’s first meeting. You created Matthew Gray to write about Spencer Reid in a way that felt less ‘high school diary entry.’

“More specifically, it’s from the book you just started working on about a month ago. The one that only you and your agent have access to.” Finally, Morgan sits. Before, he’d just been pacing around you the way a lioness might stalk around her prey before she launches an attack. It made you uneasy, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

“Do you know where we found it, (Y/N)?” His muscles bulge against his shirtsleeves when he leans them up on the table. Derek Morgan is a very attractive man, you’ll give him that, but if making you uneasy and putting you in the room with a attractive man to fluster you was their strategy then they should have sent in Spencer.

“My computer.”

“We found it on the body of a dead girl.” Another picture joins the ones already shuffled around the table. You can barely look at it, nausea and tears building in your throat at the sight of another person dying the same way you’d written in a story. When you don’t respond, Morgan continues.

“‘She was found at the bottom of an empty bathtub, a pale leg hooked over the edge of the porcelain siding, and her arms pinned to her sides in death. Bruises discolored the skin at her shoulders, and Ryder knew at first glance that her cause of death would be asphyxiation by drowning.’” He drops the paper back to the table, having picked it up to read the passage from the end of the page.

“That’s wrong,” You say, leaning back over the table to look at the paper again. Derek looks down, like the words might have changed in the moment he looked away, but the text stays exactly the same as before.

“That’s exactly what is written here.” You shake your head, pulling the bag back to you and wrinkling your forehead in thought.

“I don’t doubt that is what you read, Agent Morgan,” Your eyes fly over the page, reading the end of the excerpt with overwhelming relief. The bag sticks a little to the pad of your index finger as you tap over the paragraph in question. “But I rewrote this scene only two nights ago. It’s on my computer, I’m sure your tech analyst can confirm my claim. This girl, Bella, she doesn’t die from drowning anymore. Her hands are tied above her head to the faucet and she’s strangled. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to be by her sister or her girlfriend.”

JJ rushes back to Penelope’s office, on a mission to confirm your statement just as you had suggested. Meanwhile, Morgan’s mind is rushing to figure out the mess he is currently sat in. You lean back in your chair now, unsure if the dizziness you feel is from lack of food or the sudden realization that they couldn’t pin this to you anymore.

“I’m not your bad guy. If I was doing this to prove to my mother that my writing is good, that I chose the right career, as your profile says, I wouldn’t change the scene in my book and not change the murder.” In Morgan’s earpiece, Hotch tells him that you were telling the truth about editing the scene two nights ago.

“Unless you planned it to throw us off track. We know about your relationship with Spencer, you’ve probably found out all kinds of things to do to keep us from catching you.”

You clench your teeth, straightening into your chair and pinning Derek down with a look you’d learned from your mother. It makes him think of his mom, your eyes narrowed and your gaze so cold that it could cause frostbite. He watches curiosily as you tilt your chin up a little, trying to hide the pricks behind your eyes and the wobble of your lip. Derek notices them, the entire team notices. They’re trained to notice.

“I want a lawyer.” You say simply, you voice is sharp and quiet but it does the job of slicing through the tension already building in the room.

“Come on, you don’t need a lawyer.”

“That’s where you’re wrong again, Agent Morgan. I do need a lawyer. Because even though I have full-heartedly trusted the justice system since I was in diapers, and even though I came to these offices willing to help your team in any way that I could, you are still trying to use me as a scapegoat instead of actually doing your fucking job and finding the bastard who is killing people in my name.

“A study from criminal law bulletin says that 10,000 people are wrongfully convicted of serious crimes every year. One in every twenty-five people sentenced to death are innocent, Agent Morgan. Just since 1973, more than 160 people were exonerated from the death penalty. That’s not even counting the people who were killed. But you sure as hell aren’t about to make me apart of that statistic because you want to waste your time trying to piece an investigation around me. That’s not how you’re supposed to do your job. So until you can remember how to do it correctly, I do need a lawyer. Thank you.”

By the time you finish you’ve leaned over the table, your index finger jammed into the wood to make your point. It feels like your chest is on fire as you slam back into your seat and cross your arms, determined to keep your silence for the rest of the time you were forced to sit here.

Everyone on the opposite side of the mirror is stunned into silence, their eyes focused on you even as Derek gathers all the things from the desk and walks out looking a little flustered himself. If Spencer was totally honest, your outburst was actually kind of hot. He has to remind himself that you may have killed eight people in cold blood.

Your lawyer makes it to the BAU in record time, his red hair expertly gelled back from his face. His icy blue eyes only cracking when he sees you sitting by yourself in the interrogation room. Spencer can tell by the way that he lowers himself on the balls of his feet to talk to you, reaching out to touch the hand that sits on your thigh, that he knows you personally. He likes you, actually. Spencer tried to tell himself that it doesn’t make him glad when you pull your hand out of his and awkwardly pat his arm.

He’s been lying to himself a lot today.

Hotch is the one to go back in the room, he was the best at dealing with lawyers. Unfortunately his best wasn’t enough to keep you in custody and soon your lawyer, who Spencer learned was named Jeremy, was walking you out of the room for the first time in six hours.

Your back cracks when you stand, your shoulders rolling back to try and ease some of the stress you’d been holding there since this morning. The sound of the door swinging open for you is almost heavenly, the feel of the air outside of the room is damn near enough to make you cry.

When you look to the side, ready to leave out the second door that leads into the hallway and away from this mess, you meet eyes with the only profiler of the BAU that you hadn’t seen that day. Spencer looks back at you with an expression that you find hard to put into words.

He almost looks sorry, the regret evident in the slight widening of his eyes, but at the same time his chin is tilted up like he is facing an enemy he has vowed to take down no matter the cost. His shoulders are squared, but his arms are uncrossed and his palms are open.

And even though you knew you wouldn’t be there without him knowing, the reassurance that Spencer knew and even suspected you is like a blow to the chest and stomach. It robs you of air, causing you to stumble.

Jeremy reaches to steady you. You shake him off, pulling your eyes from the young doctor and focusing all of your attention on the door knob.

“I’m fine, Jeremy.” Your tone of voice is more harsh than you intended but you’re still struggling to collect oxygen, even when you slide into your car by yourself, it feels like you can’t get enough air. The walk from the BAU offices to the parking lot had passed in a blur. Jeremy’s talk about staying at home and keeping your head low had gone by even faster, and now that you have time to truly be by yourself, everything hits like a ton of bricks thrown at you from a speeding train.

In the midst of your panic attack, gasping for air into the palms of your shaking hands, questioning everything about yourself and your career, you don’t register the shuffle of movement in your backseat. You’re so deep in your mind that you almost don’t notice the cool press of a gun barrel against the back of your neck until a familiar voice lifts your head from your hands.

“Drive.”

[sierraraeck]

Return to Normalcy (Pt.2)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Returning to normal has never been so hard. Just as Aundreya is starting to make amends and fit back in with the group, something gets in the way. Story twenty-two.

Category: Angsty-fluff

Warnings: Cussing. CM talk. Mentions of death and suicide as a COD. Break-ins.

Word Count: 3.9k

I stormed into my apartment and slammed the door shut. I ripped off my jacket and tossed it aside along with my bag. Then I just screamed. I screamed as loud as I could for as long as I could and then I just stood there.

There came a knock on my door and I assumed it was my neighbor Billy, some poor old lady that had the misfortune of living next to me. And not to call her a grump, but for real, she could be a pain in my ass. Especially after I’d just fought off three people during the night, and then had to deal with her glaring at me in the morning asking me to please (and I quote) ‘pull myself together or throw my childish temper tantrums somewhere else.’

I whipped open the door and yelled, “Billy, I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood right now for your-” I stopped mid sentence, mouth hanging open when I saw who it really was. “Aaron, I’m sorry, I just-”

His eyes went wide and he offered a small smirk, “Who’s Billy?”

“Someone you’re probably glad you aren’t,” I replied. “Come in.”

Once he did, I wanted to just up and shoot myself. Way to lie to your boss about what was going on, and then just invite him inside to the only place that could prove you were lying.

He turned to face me and I sighed, shaking my head. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He gave me a pointed look, “I’m okay, thank you.”

I tried to make light of the situation, “Well, make yourself at home, if you can find a place to do that.”

My apartment really was a disaster. The couch was the only semi-clean spot considering Spencer and I had slept on it the night before, but other than that, you had to step over and around broken wood and glass to get to where you wanted to go. I’d already learned to ignore it.

“Was that true?” Hotch asked, out of the blue.

“Was what true?”

“What you said back at the office, about the snipers?”

“Yep,” I said, popping the p. “Who did you think shot Penelope?”

“We weren’t sure,” he admitted, “We suspected one of your people, but Deen assured us that was not the case. We were then so busy getting her to the hospital and finding you that we didn’t revisit it. Dave and I talked about it, but neither could really remember everything that led up to that moment.”

“That’s understandable. I’m sure it was a lot. I mean, it was a lot for me to watch,” I confessed.

“So you were also watching us,” he stated more than asked.

“I was,” I confirmed, “I had three different angles showing different people and groups at different times.”

“How come you’ve never told us this?” he asked. His face somehow always seemed neutral, yet inviting.

It was a valid question. They couldn’t exactly do a write up of the case considering they weren’t even supposed to be on it, and on top of that worked with a group of known criminals without going through all that government red-tape bullshit, so I never talked about it. Not like anyone asked. “Wasn’t important at the time. You got me out, I got you out, end of story.”

“Clearly that’s not true,” Aaron stated, glancing around the room. I shrugged. “What is really going on?”

“If I tell you I think I fixed the problem once and for all, would you let it go?” I asked. He tensed his jaw and narrowed his eyes at me, so I relented. “People were breaking in.”

“Were?”

“That’s my hope, anyway. I think I solved the problem,” I said.

He skeptically looked at me. “The problem?”

“Yeah. The problem,” I repeated, trying not to open myself up too much for profiling. I didn’t want him finding out about Archer just so that I could lose any bit of credibility I had left with him.

“Did the problem have a name?” Aaron asked, “Maybe Howard Archer?”

Fuck. “Coincidence. Plus, I was with the girls all night at a concert.”

“And every minute can be accounted for?” he asked.

“Yes,” I confidently answered, “There was a short 20 minute period where I ran home to grab my jacket, but I’m sure you can see me on the security cameras.”

I kept waiting for him to respond, but he just kept looking at me. Scanning my facial features, body language that was changing, and things that weren’t changing. We just stood there in absolute silence, staring at each other. Is he gonna say something? Does he know? I’m sure he knows, but is he gonna turn me in? Should I say something?

Then Hotch saved me from my thoughts by moving to sit on the couch. He tilted his head which was my cue to go and sit next to him.

“You actually seemed to be doing pretty well,” he started. “You were readjusting.”

“‘Were’ being the key word,” I pointed out.

“They’ll come around.”

I scoffed in his face, “If I had a dollar for everytime someone has said that to me, I would be able to buy the BAU.”

“I’m sure, but every time it’s true,” he stated.

“How can it be?” I asked, getting slightly irritated, “If every time something goes wrong they turn on me, then I have to justify it, and then they have to ‘come around’ at what point is that not working anymore? At what point do they stop ‘coming around’ and start walking on eggshells, waiting for me to mess up?”

He expertly dodged my question, “Who says we’re waiting for you to mess us?”

“Your behavior!” I exclaimed. “If you aren’t waiting for me to screw up, then how come whenever anything goes wrong, I’m immediately the target?”

“But shouldn’t you be the target?” he calmly asked.

“Probably!” I was now shouting, “That’s the most irritating part! Is that most of the time, they’re right. I am causing problems and we have to trust each other with our lives which we clearly can’t do so I get their hesitation, but it’s not me all of the time. Like those videos, I had no choice, and while I get it, they don’t have any reason to hear me out, it still hurts knowing they actually believe I’d say those things and mean them.”

“So all of the stuff you said, every word, was a lie?”

“Correct.”

I saw the corners of his lips tilt up just slightly, “Even when you called me an emotionless robot who couldn’t care less about his team?”

“Oh no,” I teased, “that was definitely true. I’ve been looking for your charging port since I met you.”

He offered a small laugh and raised his eyebrows, “You will never find it.” It lightened the mood for a moment, but once it passed, I was back deep into my thoughts. Aaron could tell, though, always so perceptive. “If it makes you feel any better, Reid is apparently doing one hell of a job standing up for you.”

“Huh?” I gave him a confused look. “How do you know that?”

“Dave is with them right now,” Hotch held up his phone quickly, “You know, Reid has been a big proponent of yours throughout all of this, even when you were on the run after the hospital.”

“Has he?” I incredulously questioned, “He seems okay with me now, but back then? I thought he hated me, you know, shoving me up against a wall and all, asking me why I was helping.” Hotch opened his mouth but I stepped in, mocking, “Oh wait, let me guess. ‘He came around.’”

“You know what, he actually did,” Hotch answered me, more seriously than I had been. “Even when he acted like he was mad, and I’m sure he was, he seemed more hurt than anything. I know the two of you had something going on, but I didn’t realize how serious it was until you were gone.” I leaned forward, inviting him to continue. “I don’t know if you know this, I’m not actually sure Reid fully knows this, but he cares about you, a lot. More than either of you care to admit. I know you feel the same.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure Maeve does as well,” I reminded him.

“That’s an excuse.”

“Excuse me?” I wasn’t prepared for how harshly he was calling me out.

“You know it is. I’ve never seen you back down from any challenge, yet, the moment there’s even the possibility of someone else being in Reid’s life, you just, give up?” I stared at him, jaw on the floor. “Why is that?”

I knew why. I’m sure he knew why. I’m not good enough. I’ll corrupt him. I’ll poison him. He already went to prison because of me, I don’t want to be the one to completely hurt and destroy him. But I didn’t want to confess that, so I went for, “I just don’t think he’s as interested in me as you think he is. Plus, Maeve is good for him.”

“So that’s the reason?” Hotch asked, addressing my added reason. “You don’t think you are good for him?”

“And you do?” I fired back, astonished. “Look at me! Look at what I’ve gotten him into! Prison, drugs, watching me murder people in front of him, nearly getting him shot by a sniper, the nightmares he’s having from all of the trauma I’ve put him through, not to mention everything I’m sure I’m continuing to put him through!”

Hotch grabbed me by the shoulders, and until that moment, I hadn’t realized I was shaking. “Aundreya!” I partially snapped out of it, and looked him in the eyes. “You did all of that for him.”

“Sure, but if I was normal-”

“You think Reid’s normal?” Hotch kept his voice raised, “Neither of you have been normal for your entire lives.”

“Exactly! So maybe he needs normal for one, maybe he needs something low stress, low pressure, and low risk like Maeve.”

“No,” he insisted, voice strong, “He needs someone who is willing to fight for him as hard as he's willing to fight for you. I’ve seen the way he fights for you, Aundreya, and while he was working hard to find Maeve, it wasn’t anywhere near the amount of effort he put into finding you. He was broken up when he thought something happened to Maeve, but he didn’t even allow himself the time to think about that when it came to you. He was so laser focused on putting the pieces together, that he wasn’t sleeping. He was barely eating. Maeve had to come to us because it got to the point where she was genuinely concerned for his health, and I made him take a forced vacation and ordered him not to think about you. In that moment, you know who he reminded me of? You.”

My mouth was dry, and my brain was still processing everything he was telling me. All I could manage was a small, “What?”

“When he got incarcerated, you had your own evidence board in your apartment, you spent every free moment thinking about him and trying to figure out who was really behind this. You didn’t sleep, and you didn’t eat. Finally, you just went into the prison to get him out yourself, and then you actually solved his case, putting yourself in the line of fire just so that he wouldn’t be. Sure, you didn’t come to us about what you’d figured out, but you were still trying to protect him, and all of us. You took matters into your own hands, and Reid was damn near close to doing the same thing.”

I struggled to find any words that could possibly respond to learning something like that. “I-I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. You were busy doing whatever it was you were doing, but you never asked. You never even looked into it. Because you run from your problems,” he stated, his voice back to one of calm neutrality. “Stop torturing yourself. Stop running.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

After Hotch left, I had a lot going through my mind. I just sat on my couch, staring out at nothing, thinking about everything he had told me.

Spencer was working that hard to find me? After everything I’ve put him through, he still cares about me? He’s been standing up for me? Okay, and what the fuck did he mean that Spencer was about to take things into his own hands? How could he have-

My thoughts were cut short by the vibrating of my phone on the small coffee table. I reached for it and saw Spencer’s name at the top. Speak of the devil. “Hello?”

“Hey, Aundreya, how are you doing?” his voice sounded a little horse and definitely groggy.

“About average. Just waiting to see if anyone decides that the night is ripe for apartment raiding. How about you?”

“You shouldn’t joke about that. You could get seriously hurt,” Spencer sounded concerned, and a bit frustrated.

“If I don’t joke about it, I’ll never survive it,” I replied. “But don’t worry about me, I know how to fend them off in my non existent sleep by now, and you never answered my question. How are you?”

“I am worried about you.” I could practically hear his small pout through the phone, “That’s why I was going to invite you over.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to do that,” I assured.

“I kind of feel like I do. I don’t want you constantly having to fight those people alone,” his voice was like velvet, spreading from the phone all the way through my body.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be alone.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, once they break in, I won’t be alone anymore,” I smirked.

“You’re terrible,” he feigned annoyance, but I could tell he was cracking a smile.

“But you already knew that,” I shot back.

“I did,” he sighed, “I’m serious, though. Please, come over. If not, I will drive to your apartment and wait with you.”

“No, definitely not,” I quickly responded.

“Great, so I’ll see you in about 15 minutes?” Genius bastard. Way to play off my fear of you being around when shit goes down.

I rolled my eyes, “Sure.”

When I got to his place, I didn’t even have to knock before the door swung open. He was standing in a pair of blue and black checkered pajama pants, but with his white dress shirt still on. It was unbuttoned slightly at the top, sleeves rolled up, and his tie was nowhere to be found. His hair was a bit of a mess and his feet were completely bare. I swallowed.

“Hi, come it,” he ushered me through the door.

“Hi,” I said, with a small smile on my face.

“What?” he asked, following my eyes as I scanned him up and down.

I shook my head, a cheeky smile on my face, “Just wondering what I’m interrupting.”

He gave me a sarcastic look. “Yeah, I was in the middle of changing.”

“Then by all means,” I gestured in the direction of his bedroom. He nodded, scurrying away from me while I scanned the room. It looked just like it had on that tv screen months ago, probably not a single book out of place. The curtains were open but it was dark outside, only the moonlight shining through. I quickly went over to shut them.

When I turned around, Spencer was now fully changed with an old MIT t-shirt on, watching me curiously. He looked confused and like he was about to ask me something, when I saw the lightbulb go off. “Oh, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think-” he started.

“Don’t be,” I cut him off, “You can’t remember everything.”

“I should,” he sounded irritated with himself, “I can’t imagine walking in here and having that be the exact same angle as the one you saw when-”

“Spencer,” I sternly got his attention, “It’s okay. The problem is solved. It’s not that big a deal.”

He sighed and looked down. “It is, though.”

I walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, and it felt like the most natural thing I’d done all day. He raised his eyes to meet mine, and it was like I could see all the images flashing over his pretty eyes. “Don’t think about it. Please, when you look at me, don’t think about the things you saw, the things your mind can’t forget.”

“I’m trying,” he whispered, “I really am.”

“That’s all I ask,” I replied, forcing a smile.

“You know, if you ever want to talk about it-”

“I don’t,” I rejected, way too quickly. I could see the small amount of pain in his eyes, “But if I do, I’ll know I can come to you.”

That eased the tension a little, and he turned to walk to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” I said. He returned with two bottles of water anyways and sat down in one of the small kitchen chairs, pushing one toward the opposite end. I sat across from him and took the bottle.

“You know that I was hooked on dilaudid for a while, but I never told you how I got started,” he murmured, fidgeting with the bottle cap.

“Spencer-”

“No, it’s okay. Within my first couple years at the BAU, there was a man named Tobias Hankle. He had multiple personalities, three to be exact, which is very rare. I got split up from JJ when we were searching for him, and he kidnapped me. He tied me to a chair and tortured me for what felt like months. Whenever Tobias’s personality was in control, he would give me dilaudid to help me deal with the pain. After the team came to rescue me, I stayed behind to grab the extra bottles.” At this point, he was tearing up, and his voice was quivering. I couldn’t imagine him having to go through that as a brand new agent barely into his 20s, and there was a pit in my stomach imagining him in almost the same situation I had just been in. “I became my own worst enemy. The drugs were making me angry to the point where I couldn’t even do my job properly, but I felt like I could no longer function without them. Once I ODed for the first time, I decided that it was time for me to get help. I’ve been sober for over six years now.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go through that. I’m impressed with your willpower,” I said, moving my hand to cover his.

“Impressed?”

“Yeah. When most people get hooked on drugs, to the point of ODing, they can’t stop. I’m amazing with your strength to stop and to stay clean all this time. I mean, you have a very stressful job,” I pointed out.

“That’s true, and thank you. I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone, and you can always come to me because I’m the last person who could ever judge you. I’m sure you’re tougher than I was and won’t make the same mistakes, but if you do, please talk to me. I’ll always help you,” he said, looking at me with big, watery eyes.

Without answering him, I stood up and gently pulled on the hand I was already holding toward me. He stood up and I wrapped my arms around him. We comfortably melted into the other’s embrace, entering our own safe bubble filled with warmth and compassion. When I pulled away, I assured, “I’ll always be here to help you, too.”

I tried so hard to keep my emotions at bay, but the way he looked at me pushed me over the edge. Right as the first tear slipped down my cheek, he brought his hand to my face and used his thumb to brush it away. With our arms still around each other, emotions flowing between us, he kissed me. Gently pressing his lips to mine, noses softly rubbing against each other’s, in our own infinite moment. He was so warm and so cozy that I didn’t want him to pull away when he did. I would have rather suffocated.

He scanned my eyes, and started, “I, um, I-I’m so-”

I brought my finger to his lips to stop him. “Shh. We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

He was silent for a moment before he nodded, “Okay. Do you want to maybe stay and watch something on the tv with me or…”

“I would, but I think I should get back home,” I said. Hotch’s voice came ringing back into my head. You run from your problems. Stop torturing yourself. Stop running.

But tonight was not that night. “O-oh. Are you sure it’s safe? I wouldn’t want you going home where you still have people breaking in.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I gave him a tight lipped smile. “Besides, I think I solved that problem.” I reluctantly moved myself out of Spencer’s arms and headed toward the door.

“Hey, Aundreya?” he asked, stopping me before I could leave.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to answer, but I wanted to ask. Why was I the only one without a video?”

I knew that question would come up at one point or another, either from him or another teammate. “Because you’re my weakness.”

His face scrunched up in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Which it didn’t, thinking from his perspective. If he was my weakness, wouldn’t DeLeon start there? I explained, “He was saving the best for last. He knew I wouldn’t be able to say those things when it came to you, and if I did, he was going to leave the live feed on to make sure that I ruined our relationship. If I couldn’t say those things, he was going to shoot you and make me watch. I luckily thought of a way out of that situation before it happened.”

“So all that about ‘I’m not capable of loving’..?”

“Probably true,” I confessed with a sad, bitter laugh. “But I don’t want it to be. I’m hoping it’s not.”

“It’s not,” Spencer said, with all the confidence in the world. “You’ve been to hell and back for most everyone you’ve ever worked with and cared about. That says something, and I believe that shows you are capable of love.”

“When I’m around you, I start to believe that’s true.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I returned home, feeling more relaxed than I’d ever had, even confident in my ability to get a good night's sleep without intruders. But when I opened my apartment door, on the scratched up wall opposite me, there were big red letters spelling out three words:

This isn’t over.

I grabbed my phone and quickly dialed Mateo. Before he could even greet me, I rushed, “I was wrong, it wasn’t Archer. It’s been DeLeon this whole time.”

“And you killed Archer!” he screeched, “Do you know what you’ve done?”

“I was solving a problem,” I bit back, frustrated.

“The wrong one apparently. DeLeon is going to come for you now that you’ve broken your deal.” The panic in his voice sounded like it almost matched mine.

“I know. But this time, I’ll be ready.”

Series Taglist

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

[theelvenhaven]

Confessions

Ecthelion x Reader

1.9k words

Rog makes a pretty interesting assumption about the Readers love life. Ecthelion springs into action to make sure his opportunity to be with Reader isn’t missed. 

* * * 

"Ecthelion!" Rog called out as the elf-lord walked towards the pavilion that both Ecthelion and Glorfindel were standing under. The two turning their gaze from each other and to their friend with a smile,

"Rog how nice of you to finally join us." Ecthelion teased out sarcastically, making him look at him in return with a glint in his eyes. Glorfindel roughly patted him on the back, though it did not phase him, as Rog took his place to lean up against the railing.

"Do not tell me that the Lady's distracted you again?" Glorfindel teased, as Rog was always found himself inclined to stop the maids who couldn't reach higher shelves. Unashamed in admitting he definitely did enjoy their fawning and attention, but Rog smirked as his eyes landed on Ecthelion.

There was mischief there and this only made Ecthelion sigh out at the sight, knowing whatever he was going to say would be something no doubt to stir up some discomfort if he could. Rog finally bobbed his head a little at Glorfindel's words, folding his strong arms over his chest.

"Yes, but it would be our dear friend's Lady that has captured my attention this time." Glorfindel laughed out at this mirroring Rog's stance, while Ecthelion only shook his head like a disgruntled parent. Once again here Rog was trying to complicate between you and Ecthelion,

"Do explain what captured your attention, Rog?" Ecthelion said picking up a glass of wine from the table to sip out of. He wasn't complaining too much, if anything curious to hear what Rog would have to say about you. 

He always did have the most curious bits of information, even if half of it was true. Rog's smile only grew as he didn't break eye contact with Ecthelion who was trying to brush him off,

"Your dear Y/N was with your guard, Lindaleon," Rog began, only making Ecthelion roll his eyes, it was no secret you were friends with him. Close friends it seemed but for no reason to have Ecthelion all discontented over this news. 

"With his hand on their lower back, a gentle embrace... And she was certainly not rejecting the affections." Rog concluded, though his tone had grown a little more serious, which caught Ecthelion's attention. Both curiously and with worry, not even Ecthelion had embraced you yet. Rog was never serious when jesting, and he quickly took this information to heart.

He had been keeping things as steady as they came; he was not ready to confess just yet, though it was in the near future... Had you figured out that he liked you? If so had you gotten bored waiting around for him and moved on? Had you not liked him to begin with?

For once Ecthelion wore his look of panic on the outside, making the two elf lords around him snicker at the sight. Bringing Ecthelion back down to earth before he waved the laughter away, setting the glass down.

"Are you alright dear Ecthelion?" Glorfindel asked with a bright smile, enjoying the sight of his friend floundering in love for once. Ecthelion thought he was clever, but with Rog and Glorfindel together, their friend underestimated them. The pair exchanging a glance as Ecthelion didn't even register Glorfindel's words.

"I must go." He grumbled out, thoughts tumbling over one another in an effort to come up with something to say to you. If you liked and loved Lindaleon, he would be... okay with that if that's what made you happy, but he had to get it off of his chest that he was in love with you first. Without another thought he was hurrying off the pavilion while Rog and Glorfindel called out to the "lover boy" with laughter and some encouragement.

Everyone that saw Ecthelion coming was quick to move out of his way, the ellon deep in his thoughts hardly noticing the others around him before he finally made it back to his House. Being greeted with many nodding their heads and "my lord" but he hardly paid them any attention, too focused on the current agenda.

Without any hesitation he began to search for you, knowing there were only two places Rog would have seen you. In the gardens or in the courtyard near his workshop, and he was confident Rog had seen you once he left the workshop after dropping a few things off.

As he came to workshop immediately his suspicions were confirmed as there you stood in the evening sunlight with Lindaleon. You had yet to spot Ecthelion, Lindaleon blocking your view with his back to him. Quietly he assessed every single aspect of the both of you, taking a moment to admire how lovely you looked.

He was assessing the body language, looking to try and see if you looked at the guard with adoring eyes. But he could not tell and Ecthelion didn’t know if this soothed his panic or made it worse. That was until Lindaleon leaned down to kiss the top of your head, making him suck in a breath harshly at the sight.

Sorrow filled him at the sight, struggling to believe that he had misjudged how you felt for him. Nonetheless as Lindaleon walked away, he begin to approach you, looking at you in a cool and relaxed manner that you were used to seeing. Completely hiding the heartbreak he was feeling,

“Oh! Ecthelion! It’s a pleasure to see you!” Your voice was full of mirth, and he could not help the soft smile wanting to pull at his lips. Despite that sight, your bright eyes were focused solely on him and he felt his breath leave him. By the stars he needed to get a hold of himself.

“My dear, Y/N.” He began bowing his head respectfully to you, before giving you a charming smile. Bright blue eyes looking down at you, making a soft blush rise to your face.

“May we speak privately?” Ecthelion asked you before you could even get a moment to respond to his greeting. You nodded at his words, noticing how Ecthelion seemed conflicted on whether to touch you or to offer his arm to you. It was not often that you were so easily able to read him, his demeanor much more guarded and collected than it was now.

You couldn't help but feel the concern bubble up inside of you. Was something wrong? You wondered, following after him as he opened the door to his workshop. Ever the gentleman making sure to allow you to enter first before following close behind you and shutting the door.

"What is the matter, Thel? Is everything alright?" You asked him with concern using your nickname for him, Ecthelion stood in silence in thought. Hands clasped in front of his cerulean and silver robes in a stoic manner, his face had grown rather serious making you hold your own breath as you waited impatiently for him to begin.

"Y/N, there is something that I must tell you. Though I hope you know I mean no disrespect." Ecthelion's voice was even, eyes flitting up to you almost apologetically and you nodded as if urging him to continue.

"I doubt you'd ever cause much or any disrespect at all Ecthelion." You assured him as you folded your arms across your chest, plainly wearing your confusion. Ecthelion sighed for a moment shaking his head some, knowing that he should just leave your relationship alone.

That he shouldn't confess how he was feeling, and make you feel worse for wear about this. You were a wonderful soul, and Stars forbid if this made you feel conflicted on such a happy time. Even if he felt saddened, he didn't want to make you feel the same.

"I have been feeling this way for quite some time, Y/N. I in no way wish to cause any conflict between us as I value our friendship deeply." Ecthelion continued making your brows draw together as you frowned with worry at where this was going. Had he found his one?

Did he know you liked him and was calling you out on it now when he already found his? Eru was he breaking up your friendship? You wanted desperately to interrupt him, but decided to let him speak his peace.

If your love for Ecthelion wasn't returned that was okay by you as long as he was happy, you most certainly didn't want to lose your closest friend you had. You just wanted him to be happy,

"I have greatly enjoyed our time spent together, you have been wonderful company. I look forward to our daily walks, our long evenings reading and drinking, and the conversations that we share together. It is time never wasted, and I always wish to spend more of my alone time with you." You could hardly believe your ears that he was even saying this! Was he saying what you thought you were? Had you actually heard this correctly?

"I have undoubtedly fallen in love with you, and I know this could not come at a worse time-"

"Worse time? Thel, how is this the worst time?" You interrupted him breathlessly, softly stepping forward towards him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. Ecthelion furrowed his brows at you, confused how you couldn't see that this was a horrible time!

"Why would it not be? You are with Lindaleon, I cannot see how this comes at a good time." At this you gave Ecthelion an incredulous look, trying to piece together where he ever got the idea that you and Lindaleon were in love? Ecthelion quietly watched you, seeing you fumble in confusion at his words. 

"In.. love with Lindaleon? Ecthelion what ever gave you that idea?" You asked him with a halfhearted laugh, though this time it was Ecthelion's turn to laugh some in exasperation. His cheeks beginning to bloom some with color, but then quickly the expression was washed away with seriousness looking back to you.

"Then what was that kiss Lindaleon gave to you?" His voice firm catching you off guard some, but you only smiled at him. You couldn't help but snicker at this whole mess, he had gotten things so very wrong.

"Lindaleon has explained to me that I remind him of his younger sibling that still resides in Valinor." You began folding your arms over your chest raising a brow at him, 

"And I think of him like my older brother. It was strictly done in a familial manner and nothing more, I assure you." You continued before you began to approach him again, this time standing much closer to Ecthelion. His composure clearly rattled some by this new information, your hand came to brush against his fingers that rested at his side now.

"Though... in case you were wondering," You began in a soft voice pulling Ecthelion from his thoughts, eyes fixated on you and goosebumps rising on his skin at the brush of your skin. 

"I am very much in love with you too..." At this Ecthelion smiled, very much relieved and thrilled to hear that he had been right, and that you did love him too. He brought a hand up to your cheek, thumb gently stroking it before he leaned down, lips pressing against yours gently. You received him eagerly, lips melding against his with care. 

Interlacing his fingers with yours, he pulled you closer, kissing you with more passion that he had been desperate to show you. Finally he no longer had to hide his feelings nor his affections for you any longer, or worry about you being with anyone else. 

“Would you do me the honor of courting me?” He whispered out to you, soft and warm lips brushing against your own. A wide smile pulled at your lips as you began to nod,

“Yes Ecthelion, a thousand times yes.” You answered quickly, before finally kissing him again.

[headoverhiddles]

Bat-Shaped Glasses - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You and another guest need a little salvation from the party you're at.

Notes: Well, this was supposed to be fluffy, but as you all know, one thing leads to another, and... smut. Also, this takes place during Eat Me Drink Me era!  

Tag List: @livelifewondering​

It's early October. This month is "your month" or as you've been reminded by everyone in your circle for the past 7 days. You love Halloween-- something that inspired you to become a horror actress in the first place-- but hearing "spooktober" every other sentence at this party was tiring, to say the least.

Halloween parties are usually fun, but this one is an industry party. You and the rest of the cast of Hell's Most Wanted, a hot new horror franchise, had been invited.

Oh, well. At least you could stand here, look fabulous in the bat shaped glasses and silver bat scarf you had thrown on, enjoy the spiked vampire punch here in Hollywood tonight, and hope someone you'd like to meet walks by. Speaking of Hollywood and vampires...

"Depp!" you call. Your friend whirls around, tan brown hair wild, and spots you through narrowed eyes. He's got a headband with light up devil horns on, and a bit of red glittery eyeshadow on.

"Ah! (y/n)." He frowns for a moment. "You look like you could use another drink, love." You glance down at your glass, realizing it's currently empty.

"Looks like you're right." You two walk over to the refreshments table, and you thank him as he refills your punch, getting a few bat shaped ice cubes in there for you.

"So. Who did your makeup?" you ask, raising a brow. 

"A very dear friend of mine... whom I seem to keep losing. Ah, there he is. When in doubt, look for the brooding shadow in the corner."

Johnny grabs your hand, and leads you over to a man with black hair, black eyeshadow, and press on lower lashes. His lips are ruby red, skin pale, and he's got a long, sweeping black cloak on with ornate black patterning. Cherry on top, his height is intimidating too.

"Nice vampire costume," you smile. The guy looks over at you, unimpressed.

"I look like this everyday. But thanks."

Johnny comes in behind his gothic friend, giving him a shoulder rub. "Manson, play nice. That's (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Never heard of her."

"She's a lovely girl."

"Mm."

"She is!"

"Mm."

"Well," you say awkwardly, pursing your lips, "Nice meeting you, good seeing you Johnny, I'm gonna--"

"Wait," an eye roll from him, "I apologize." The man steps forward, extending a pale hand. "I come off as an asshole until I... y'know, decide not to."

You cautiously decide to shake his hand. His skin is warmer than you expected. "What made you change your mind?"

He smiles wryly. "I don't know. Something about you."

You nod slowly. "(y/n) (y/l/n)."

He shakes your hand. "Marilyn Manson."

Johnny digs out a hand-rolled cigarette, then produces a bag of them. "Anyone for a smoke?"

"Blacken your lungs on your own, Depp," Marilyn mutters, giving a sarcastic wave, "Unless the lady would like to join you, in which case... I'll grin and bear it."

You giggle. "I'm fine."

"Right then. I'm off." Johnny kisses Marilyn on the cheek, then you, then pops off through the crowd, disappearing to the terrace that overlooks West Hollywood.

"Man, these parties are bullshit," Marilyn comments. "You don't know whether to get fucked up or fall asleep." You burst into laughter. He really cuts to the chase, but he's not wrong.

"That about sums it up," you nod.

"Then again, you could do both. But in what order?"

"We could just go find a bush and have a nap," you shrug, "I don't think anyone would miss us." He finally cracks a small smile, walking with you through the crowd.

"That's starting to sound like more and more of a good idea."

You make it to the banquet table, and you pick up two strawberry (booberry, as they're dubbed) cream puffs. He accepts his, and you eat yours, letting the strawberry jelly gush down your lip.

"Now who's the vampire?" he smirks. You blush, wiping your face, and he motions with his head to the terrace. You both walk out, and he breathes a sigh of relief, sitting down in the garden. Black roses surround you, the venue obviously taking their star studded Halloween party seriously. It's as if you're caught up in a gothic novel... or the Addams Family.

"Here." Marilyn places his cream puff on your knee. You shake your head.

"I got it for you."

"I just took it from you so you wouldn't look stupid carrying two around." You give him a funny look. He elaborates. "I don't eat at parties. I'm sick enough already trying to bring myself to talk to people." He shakes his head. "It honestly feels like I'm back in high school sometimes."

You place the cream puff beside you, blinking. "That's exactly how I feel."

He gives a sad smile. "Funny. They don't tell you this, but you can't ever escape the shit. It's all classroom politics-- blame the scapegoat, who's the prettiest, who fucks the best, get dumped when you’re no longer socially useful, and every man for himself."

"High school never really ends, I guess," you say, and watch the crowd of costumed celebrities mingle and laugh. You feel his eyes on you. "I bet you think I was some kind of cheerleader or something in high school," you say.

"No," he says simply, folding his hands in his lap, "I don't have any judgement about you whatsoever. I think it's short-sighted to say that someone looks like they were the pretty one, or the nerd, or the jock. Anybody can become anybody." He glares around. "Although I can tell you that you could find 80% of the guys at this party beating me up for my lunch money."

You look around as well. "I've found that Hollywood, for me, is like all the artsy kids joined up and created a club."

"That's true," Marilyn muses, "It's like all the weird kids were given agents, fancy cars and drugs, and told to go play. I guess it depends on your crowd, though. I know people from all over the social map, but it takes a lot to be my friend." He cocks his head. "Johnny did a good job of snaking his way in with a few snarky comments." You look around for Johnny, though he's probably sauntered off somewhere private. He likes parties for the free alcohol, and nothing else really. 

"What were you like in high school, anyway?" you ask softly, sipping your drink. Marilyn crosses his legs, placing his painted fingernails over his knee.

"I was the kid no one wanted to be seen with. No matter what you were, you wouldn't have either. Doesn't mean I wouldn't have tried to sleep with you, though." He smirks. You shrug.

"Maybe you would've been successful."

"I had a mullet."

"Yikes. Nevermind."

A real laugh comes out of him, and he ducks his head, tucking his black hair behind his ear. You think it's fascinating how shy he is... an international rock star like him. But, just as Marilyn said, proper judgement is impossible in situations such as these.

"What was your prom night like?" you ask.

"My prom night?"

"Mhmm." 

"Boring. I went out with the girl, jerked off when she wouldn't put out." He shrugs. "Didn't help that the suit was thick, it kept rubbing against my dick and gave me a hard on. Of course, at that age, the wind could blow and I'd get an erection. She looked at my crotch, saw that I had a boner, hit me with her purse and called me a pervert. I knew the relationship was over when I pointed out that she was the one looking at my crotch in the first place." You giggle, and he smiles, shaking his head. "People get uncomfortable when you point out their hypocrisy." He rolls his palms on his knees, taking a deep breath of fresh air. "Okay. What was your prom night like?"

"I was drunk, I don't remember." 

He looks at you incredulously for a second, obviously not expecting that answer. "Alright, enough with this high school reunion shit," he says. "We're both here now, at a party in Hollywood, you're talking to Public Enemy Number 1 and I'm talking to Hell's Most Wanted, so I guess we both did something right."

You stand up. "A-ha! So you do know who I am!"

Honest to god, you see him blush. "Yeah. A lot of people do."

"You were faking!"

"That's what I do," he smiles sarcastically, "I'm as fake as a wedding cake."

You step closer to him. "Somehow, I don't think that's true."

You two walk across the terrace. The sound of the traffic in the distance is almost enough to overpower the beginning of Enter Sandman, which is playing inside. "This is the only song I like by Metallica," you tell him. He looks back into the party.

"It's okay. I've been listening to Moon Over Bourbon Street by Sting for the past month, to get over the break up to end all break ups.”

“Oh yeah.” You recall seeing something about Marilyn Manson and divorce in the tabloids recently. “Dita, right?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, looking down. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, and you don’t press. “Anyway, I wish they'd play Bourbon Street here. Those words make me feel eternal, and it’s not like it would be out of place at a Halloween party." 

"I swear, you must be a real vampire," you tease.

He gives that shy laugh. "I'm a vampire in every sense of being one, without actually being one. I go out at night, sleep half the day away. I'm pale, I like blood." He purses his lips. "I just don't like the taste of it."

"No? What do you drink, then?"

"Absinthe."

Before he can say anything else, you snake through the crowd over to the bar, ordering two Death In The Afternoons, which is a delicious mixture of champagne and Marilyn's poison of choice. You hand him one, and he accepts, sipping it.

"Mm. You trying to get me drunk?" he asks.

"Maybe."

"This is probably the most sober anyone's seen me for weeks," he confides. "I don't know if you'd like me when I'm drunk. Not many people do."

You clink your glass against his. "Same goes for me, Manson."

He looks at you for a long time, until you start to fidget a little. He finally blinks those long eyelashes, tongue coming out to swipe his painted red lips.

"You're very pretty."

You blush hard. "One sip is all it took to get that out of you?"

"I won't let the absinthe take credit for another mistake I make," he smiles, eyes dark and honest, "I've been thinking that since you first called me a vampire."

"I didn't mean anything by it," you whisper, walking back into a dark corner, grinning. He follows, eyes a black pit you want to get lost in.

"No, I get it. Dark, mysterious."

"Charming."

"Brooding."

"Sexy," you moan, and he downs the rest of his drink, dropping it on someone's table. 

"Alright. The absinthe might be in control from here on out, but fuck it." He cups your cheeks, and presses you into that corner, shadows enveloping your two rocking bodies as those blood red lips slip down to touch yours.

"Please," you moan, and he doesn't quite know what you're asking, but he takes a leap of faith, sliding his hands beneath your skirt and bunching it up. His hands move beneath the waistband of your lace panties, and he uses one hand to squeeze your ass, the other using slender fingers to masterfully circle your clit. Well, that was fucking fast.

You breathe heavily into his shoulder, and he draws back a little, eyes searching yours for any little hint as to what's working and what's not. When your eyes roll back and you bite your lip, he continues with the rubbing, rocking his hips forward as well.

Your hands dip into the opening of his cloak, and find his belt buckle, unlatching it slowly, each rock of the hips and grind of his hand against you slow, dirty, deliberate.

"I want you to make me cum on your fingers," you whisper.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" he whispers back, lips moving down to nibble at the line of your jaw.

"Yes..."

"Ask again."

"Marilyn, please."

You kiss him again, the two of you making out as your fingers wrap around his semi-hard cock. He hisses slightly at the sensation of your cold hand around him, but a few seconds tick by, and your skin warms up to his, dragging beautifully up and down his hardness.

"You keep doin' that, I'm gonna get your hand real messy," he whispers.

"Get it all over me," you growl, the dirtiness of your words urging you on, "I wanna feel it when we cum together."

"Fuck," he groans, and dips his fingers into you. You marvel at his talent-- in two strokes of his fingers, he's found your g-spot, and you're arching into him, breasts pressed against his chest. 

More than a few thoughts are whirling through your head, but you vaguely tell yourself this is just a rebound for him. He was imagining his ex-wife, that’s all, and--

“(y/n)?” he gasps out, and you’re surprised he’s moaning your name.

“Yeah?”

“C-can I... tell you a secret?”

“Mhmm...”

“After the first episode of Hell’s Most Wanted... I had to jack off.”

You almost laugh, and it comes out as a groan. You imagine Marilyn jacking off, thinking of you... him even having a tiny crush on you. 

"God, that’s so hot," you pant, jerking him faster. He tries to whisper your name again, but it gets garbled as he gasps and cums in your hand. This only forces his fingers deeper, and you grab onto his hair and bite his bottom lip as you cum hard too, riding his fingers in the dark corner of the room.

"Ow," he smiles, pulling away and dabbing at the blood on his lip from the bite. You grin, licking it up with a swipe of your tongue.

"See? I could be your vampire." 

"Sweetheart. If I was your vampire, we'd have each other til the sun."

"You're poetic."

"And you're still pretty."

"Glad I haven't lost my appeal after all that," you snort, as the two of you glance around sheepishly. You find napkins to clean up with, and pass him one.

"Nah," he says, taking your other hand, "I think I've warmed up to the idea of you. At least while the moon is still up." 

You take a glance outside, and see a crescent moon trying its best to shine on all the ghosts and ghouls of Hollywood gathered at this party. It's a valiant effort on its part, and it brings the spooky spirit of the evening back.

"Looks like we have a few more hours,” 

“Just don’t break my heart,” he warns.

Against all better judgement, you question him. “What happens if I do?” He lifts a finger up to flick the plastic wings of the novelty Halloween sunglasses. 

“Then I’ll break your bat-shaped glasses.” 

 You take his arm, and you two outsiders re-enter the festive crowd, anonymous but no longer alone.

[veronicamarsbars]

kiss me goodbye Part Three

click here for part one

The mystery of Jesse. It only grew deeper as the weeks went on.

Not a phone call or text passed between you both since that night of what would probably be classified as a fight. Though there wasn’t much fighting on Jesse’s end, just agreeable silence, you weren’t sure which was worse.

You were standing out the front of Jesse’s house. He’d never told you where he lived or talked about his home much, but then on the night you dropped him home you finally caught a glimpse into his mysterious life, so you came back to it. You didn’t know how else to contact him.

You weren’t sure what you were going to say to him, though. For one thing, you were still quite mad. Frustrated. You were afraid you would just unleash it all as soon as he opened his front door. So, you tried to calm yourself, until you were completely sure you were in control, otherwise this visit would be for nothing. You wanted to patch things up with him, somehow, but you didn’t want to just forgive him so easily. You were conflicted.

You clutched the coffee and donuts you picked up on your drive over, and then you stepped up closer to the door. You took in a deep breath and with a free hand, you knocked on his door. But there wasn’t an answer, instead, the unlocked door swung open slightly at your touch. You heard scuffling noises inside. You frowned and then opened the door up all the way, carefully, you called, “Jesse?”

What greeted you was unexpected. Sleeping bodies littered the floor, among trash and needles. Homemade crackpipes. It was like you stepped in through the looking glass, into a much more sinister Wonderland.

“What the hell…” you muttered, under your breath. You scanned the living room floor, people bunched up together and people lying alone, all high and probably completely out of their mind. You suddenly wondered if this really was Jesse’s home, or if it was just some crackhead-haven he called home. Was that why he kept so many secrets?

You swallowed and ignored the almost rancid smell of puke and blood. You weren’t afraid but you were definitely unsure. You stepped back out of the house and took in a deep breath of the outside, fresh air.

You had to think about all this rationally. Of course, this wasn’t Jesse’s home. Or at least, it wasn’t some drug commune. Or there was something else, something else that explained it all. You had to find out the truth. You licked your lips nervously and looked around the neighbourhood, did anyone else know?

You rounded the house to the neighbour’s front door and knocked. You patiently waited but there was no answer. You crossed the street and knocked on another house, hoping that the car parked in the driveway meant they were home. Finally, an older looking lady answered the door. She was dressed in a simple button-up sleeve shirt tucked into a just-below-the-knee length skirt.

“Hey,” you started, practically breathless. “Hey, I was just wondering…” you tried to gather yourself properly so she wouldn’t seem as startled as she did now. You pointed across the road, “I was wondering who lived there?’

“Well,” she started, nodding her head as she thought carefully, “that house belonged to a lovely lady. But I believe she passed away. Cancer, sadly.”

You frowned and looked back up at the house, you could feel your heart begin to race at the thought of Jesse moving into some old woman’s home after her death and turning it into a crack-house. You turned back to the woman, “I thought – I thought a guy, Jesse, lived there?”

She nodded again, her eyes grave, “Yes, he did. He does, he bought that house. He’s her nephew.”

You blinked, surprised, “Nephew…” You felt a rush of relief pass through you. It was his house after all… but that only brought on more questions.

“Jesse Pinkman,” she continued, “causes some trouble sometimes. I heard he threw people out when they were trying to sell the place. Janice told me he was angry that his parents were kicking him out. But I guess he got the better of them, when he bought it himself.”

You nodded, slowly, “Right…”

She looked at you curiously, “Is everything okay?”

You nodded again, “Yeah—yes. Everything is fine. I’ve got to go but thank you so much.” You waved her goodbye as you walked down the driveway and then headed back to Jesse’s house.

When you walked back in, the smell wasn’t any weaker. You noticed a few people giving you suspicious looks. You swallowed.

You checked the time on your phone and then stared at the bodies that slept and the ones that shuffled around mindlessly. One guy at the back just kept rambling, on and on and on…

You clutched your phone close to you, like a lifeline, and broke through the crowd of addicts. “Jesse?” you asked, nervously, scanning the faces, “Jesse, are you here?”

You couldn’t see him amongst the crowd, and the complete silence in response seemed to answer your question enough. You sighed frustratedly and held up your phone. You could call him, but it was very likely that he would just decline, or not even bother to look at his phone.

But it suddenly clicked; another idea came to mind.

You held up your phone at shouted at the addicts, hoping your voice didn’t crack too nervously, “Hey! Hey!” you called, stepping over them as you spoke, “I’m calling the police! This isn’t your house, so I’m calling them right now!” You watched as a few of them widened their eyes, the ones that were sober enough to understand what you were saying, anyway. But they gave you the confidence you needed. “Yeah,” you continued, “the police! So, get your asses up and out of this house or you’re all going down for drug possession!”

It seemed like a crazy idea; it was a crazy idea. But the thought of Jesse living in this mess… whatever happened to cause it, you just wanted to help him get out of it.

“Get up, get up, get up!” You held the phone up and pretended to dial 9-1-1, while they scrambled out of the house one after the other. You watched as they fled the house, as they trampled over the front lawn and dispersed into the quiet street. Janice and that lady would have a field day, if they were spying on Jesse’s house now. You sighed, but it was better to have two elderly women gossiping than a whole group of junkies invading Jesse’s home. You turned from the front door and suddenly noticed all of the shit they left on Jesse’s floor.

You cautiously checked upstairs and the basement, and thankfully, everyone was gone. It seemed they were all just secluded in the living room. But now they had all bolted and just a pile of mess was left behind.

You stood in the middle of the living room, hands on hips as you stared at the graffiti on the wall, “God, Jesse… what the hell happened to you?”

***

It didn’t take you too long to clean up the mess they left behind. You had the day off from work, anyway, and you would feel bad for just leaving the house in the state that it was. And what if the junkies just decided to come back? They could walk on in with the unlocked front door.

You used protective gear around the nasty stuff and even called one of those trash-collecting companies to deal with the heap of garbage on the floor.

That was the easy part. The hard part was scrubbing away at the obscene graffiti on Jesse’s walls. You laughed at a few of the tags and dumb jokes they left but you, of course, couldn’t leave it up on the walls for much longer. It had to come down.

It was early evening when you got to the graffiti, sponge and scrubber in hand. You had just started cleaning the spray-paint off when you suddenly wondered if Jesse was ever even going to come back to this place. He must be working but how long are laundromat shifts, anyway? You suddenly realized that you weren’t even completely sure of what he did there, and it only reminded you how secretive the guy had been.

You were deep in thought about Jesse’s whereabouts when you heard the front door swing open. Startled, you turned at the sound and saw a dark, hooded figure in the doorway. You were about to yell at it and threaten the police again, thinking it was one of the junkies from earlier, but it wasn’t.

He paused at the entry to look at you and then he shrugged off his hood. It was Jesse. He stared at you from across the room, his blue eyes big.

You looked back at him, wet sponge in hand, no words came to mind.

“Y/N?” he seemed to be in disbelief but it soon grew into some kind of anger or frustrated confusion.

You jumped down from the stool you were using to reach the graffiti. Jesse couldn’t keep his eyes off the clean floor, and the lack of addicts wandering his halls. You swallowed nervously, “Uh… I… Hey…”

He finally looked at you, incredulous, “What the hell?” he raised his hands to gesture his surprise.

You gulped, “I… I came over with coffee,” you started, floundering for speech and words and things that people used to communicate, “and donuts.”

Jesse only stared at you as if you had lost your mind.

“I… I came in and all of these people were everywhere, Jesse…” you shook your head, “I couldn’t see you—”

“So, you… what, told them to get out of my house?”

“Yeah,” you replied truthfully, “yeah, I did.”

He blinked, “If I wanted them out, I would’ve done it myself—”

“What do you mean, if you wanted them out!?” you retorted, shaking your head, “You can’t just live with—”

“I can do what I want!” he yelled back, exasperated. He was pissed, you’d obviously crossed the line, but you didn’t quite understand what line that was. “Why are you here? Why are you doing this? Cleaning my walls,” he angrily pointed to the sponge in your hand, “cleaning my house!?” He was furious and you couldn’t understand why. You thought you were helping them.

“I wanted to help you—”

He interjected, “I don’t need your help, I don’t need you to… what, rescue me? Is that what you’re trying to do!?” Jesse was overwhelmed with emotion, he was struggling to keep it all together, especially after the shitty few weeks he’s had working for Mr. White. He suddenly laughed, an awful, mocking laugh that hurt you more than he thought, “Like, what are you, my mother?”

His explosion of anger surprised you. You knew he couldn’t possibly be this mad just because of you but it was so hard for you to not resolve to screaming at him until the sun came up.

Your face grew hot with retaliated anger, “I wasn’t trying to rescue you, Jesse. And no, I’m not your mother!” you huffed as your chest heaved, “I was concerned and I’m allowed to be! You’ve been acting weird and distant; I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to do! I didn’t know what the fuck you wanted from me, but I knew something was wrong. Something is wrong! And I know you won’t tell me because you never tell me anything, but I had to do something to help because I care about your stupid-ass!”

His jaw hardened at this, he hated seeing you this upset but all he could think about was that you didn’t deserve to have to care about a piece of shit like him. He swallowed his emotion, despite how much he cared for you, and said the worst possible thing he could so you would be free of him, “You know, I never asked you to care,” he paused, almost reluctant, “I never asked you to sit with me at the diner.”

You felt your anger burst within you and tried to swallow it down, tears formed in your eyes and you tried your best to shake them away, “I know you didn’t. But you never asked me to leave.”

“Well, I’m asking you to now.”

You couldn’t help but feel gutted by his words. He knew what he was doing to you and he did it anyway. You dropped the sponge and grabbed up your bag and headed towards the front door. “You know, for the record Jesse, I really like you.” You locked onto his eyes, you could see the regret already pooling in their watery blue, “Whatever it is that’s making you act like such a—such a pussy, I advise you get the fuck over it before it buries you too deep.”

Your words stung Jesse. He tried to reach for you, he tried to stop you from leaving but you dodged his attempts and walked briskly out the door and over the wet lawn.

“Y/N!” Jesse shouted as he ran out of the house after you, “Y/N, wait!”

You stopped walking. You couldn’t turn to look at him because of how angry you were.

You felt his hand on your shoulder.

You reluctantly turned to him, clutching your bag tightly to your chest. He watched you a moment before he finally spoke, “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

You swallowed.

“I-I didn’t… I wasn’t planning on meeting someone like you. It couldn’t be worse timing,” he sniffed and kicked at the grass, “I’m a mess right now. I don’t…”

You shook his hand from your shoulder, “Clearly.”

He sighed, his eyes looking to you desperately, “Please.”

You stared long and hard at him. “What do you mean someone like me?”

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and then looked to his feet. “You know…” he caught your eyes again, “Someone I feel comfortable around. Someone I could trust. Someone I want to know.”

You shook your head at him, “You don’t want to trust me. You won’t even talk to me—”

“It’s hard, alright?” he interrupted, and you saw the honesty in his eyes. “It’s… not easy, not like it used to be.”

“Okay,” you breathed, pausing, “okay.”

“But I can try.”

You digested his words. It was one thing to just say these things, but it was another to actually mean it. You swallowed, and then finally responded, “But will you? Try, for real?”

He nodded. And there was silence, but it soon passed. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, “You know…” he started, carefully, tearing his eyes away from his feet, “I used to dream about becoming a superhero.”

You looked up at him, confused, was he joking? You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him, you knew he was just saying it as a pathetic way to calm your anger.

“Yeah,” he continued, “the super tight underwear over the pants and everything. The whole shebang.”

You stared at him and couldn’t help but feel slightly amused.

He could see that, so he kept going, “I drew all sorts of ideas for a costume.” He stepped closer to you, “Actually, I drew so much shit when I was a kid that it ended up on the walls half the time, and my parents were mad as hell at me.”

You smiled at the thought of a mini Jesse, probably still wearing over-sized hoodies, drawing superheroes on the walls. It made you laugh out loud.

Jesse smiled at your laughter, his eyes bright, “Yeah, no kidding,” he laughed too.

You twisted your mouth, trying to hide your amusement, “Is that why there’s so much graffiti on your walls?” you jabbed at him, jokingly.

He shook his head, knowing you would get back at him somehow and said softly, “They look like superhero drawings to you?”

You smiled, “Guess not. But that does remind me, I wasn’t quite finished with scrubbing it off.”

He smiled too, his eyes kind, “Then I guess we better get back to it.” He paused, his hands deep in his pockets, “If you want to.”

“I want to.”

You followed him up back into the house and got to work. There was only one more wall to wash, so you washed it together. It didn’t take long before you finished, and you ended up sitting on the damp floor listening to Jesse’s childhood stories. And boy, was he some wild child. You half-wished you were friends back then, but the other half of you knew he probably would have been a bad influence.

“Thanks,” he said, and he meant it. “I know I… exploded earlier and said some mean things, but what you did for me… I really—”

You stopped him, “It’s okay. I know.”

He looked at his hands in his lap, “I think I just... No one’s ever done that.” He looked up at you, “No one has ever done something that nice for me before and it... it scared me a little.”

You reached for his hand, he held yours too.

He swallowed.

“Can I ask what happened?”

He felt his chest tighten. He wasn’t sure how to explain it to you let alone to anyone at all. It didn’t make sense. “I was... afraid of being alone.”

You could see that he didn’t want to say much more so you decided not to push it. That was enough for you. It would be a slow process, but you believed you could both get there in the end.

You squeezed his hand.

He caught your eyes and they were a brilliant blue in the fading light of dusk. He held them there, for a moment. Then he leaned over the floor closer to you, on his knees, one hand keeping him up, the other found its place on your neck; thumb on jaw. He tilted your head up slightly. He stared at you before he met your lips with his.

You accepted his affection and reached for his face. You kissed him back, his lips urging for more. You hugged him closer to you as one of your arms wrapped around his torso. You leaned back onto the floor and he followed, his lips still on yours.

His hand slid from your neck to your waist as he lay on top, his lips travelled to your neck and you were surprised to see this playful side of him. You squirmed underneath him in pleasure and giggled when he kissed just under your collarbone.

He looked up at you, his face close now, and his eyes even bluer if possible. He was amused by your laughter, “What?”

“Nothing, just tickles.”

“Oh, really?” his eyes were suddenly alight with mischief. “You’re ticklish?” He reached for another ticklish spot and you laughed loudly.

“No!” you shouted, and he kept tickling you as he laughed, and you squirmed and fought him off as best you could, “Jesse!”

He gave up after you almost kicked him in the stomach and sat back on his butt, breathless. You sat up with him, also breathless.

He reached for your hand playfully, you held it and eyed the tattoo that edged onto the back of his hand as your thumb slid over the skin. It was a black, spiraling tattoo that reminded you of a dragon or a web. You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his fingers, slowly but eagerly, eyeing him. He watched with desire, a burning feeling he hadn’t felt for a long time. He smirked and you couldn’t deny those blue eyes of his.

His eyes widened momentarily and he nervously scratched the back of his head, “Not to ruin the mood or anything but… we might have to change those bedsheets first.”