#But I’ve never started a study; nor has anyone passed off a study to me to keep

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

That awkward feeling when a PIMI childhood friend sends you an invite to a party in the summer; but you know you’re going to be out of the cult and shunned by then.

What do I even say? Do I lie and say I’ll be there? Do I just not respond?

[messylxve]

ignited spark | aaron hotchner x reader

part one

pt 2 pt3

content warning : angst, pining, first kiss, drunk aaron, haley, sad ending

You met Aaron when you were young. When the biggest worry in your world was the next pop quiz in your Criminal Law class. He was pretty, smart, charming, and had a killer smile to match. You were quiet, shy, but easily the smartest one in the class.

He had often found himself glancing at you from across the room during lectures, a soft smile gracing his features when he noticed the way you color coded your notes based on your highlighters. Yet, whenever you looked up at him, his gaze was oddly fully focused on the professor ahead of him.

“I might just be going crazy Macy,” you reassured your friend one day. Or maybe you were reassuring yourself. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Orrr,” she grinned, walking alongside you. “This guy totally has the hots for you and you need to make a move.”

You snorted. “When pigs fl—,”

You never finished your sentence. Whatever you were going to say was clear out your mind by time your brain even process that you collided with someone, knocking your books and notes clean out your hand.

“I’m so sorry, that was completely my fault.”

You recognized his voice from the times he’d raise his hands in class and ask a question.

Words failed you as he kneeled down in front of you and pick up each of your things with upmost care. “I-.”

“Here. Again I’m so sorry.”

You sucked in a harsh breath as you grasped the books in your hands. “Thanks…”

“Always.” He flashed that smile at you and he was gone, walking away from you. Missing your moment. Missing the way he took one more glance back at you as he continued on his own path.

“Don’t tell me…” your friend started, amusement painting their voice. “Was that the mysterious man from your class?”

You cleared your throat, shoving away the embarrassment that creeped up your neck. “I’ll neither confirm nor deny that.”

You didn’t want to admit it but that interaction left you with a smile for the rest of the day.

The next time you interacted with Aaron, you were alone. Books surrounded you as you worked quietly in the library, head bopping softly to your music.

The last thing you expected was him, but alas he was there. You saw his shadow first, it draped itself over the book you copied notes from and blocked the light from shining over you.

“y/n right? You’re in my Criminal Law class.”

“How do you know my name?”

You didn’t mean to come off as so defensive, but you heart beat so fast in your chest, you couldn’t help but blurt out your words.

“Umm…your friend told me I could find you in here. I needed help with something for class.”

You had cleared a seat for him and gave him all the help you could give.

The friendship only ever bloomed from there.

An hour into the fourth study session, the two of you had completely forgotten the books, now broken into fits of giggles attempting to stay quiet in the library and failing. Horribly.

“God you make jokes like a dad would. Has anyone told you that?”

Aaron rolled his eyes, but his smile persisted. “I’ve heard it before. My girlfriend though compares it to an uncles humor ironically enough.”

You hoped it hadn’t been noticeable, but your smile eased up at the moment. Flickering away for a millisecond. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” he smiled obliviously. “I didn’t tell you about her?”

You shook your head and pressed on a smile. “Not that I remember.”

You watched, disheartened as he flipped open his wallet and passed you a photo of him and a woman. She was wearing a gorgeous gown and he was dressed as a pirate for some reason.

She was painfully gorgeous.

“Her name’s Haley. We started dating in high school and it’s been great ever since.”

You studied the photo a little while longer, your mind reaching other places. In that moment, you could have been resentful or hateful. You could picked a fight and scoffed about him leading you on.

But you didn’t.

With a smile, you passed the picture back. “She’s cute. You guys are cute.”

Who are you to get angry over someone who isn’t yours?

The study sessions continued on as if nothing ever happened and soon enough, you convinced yourself that truly nothing ever happened. You two were now friends and that’s all you wanted.

It became a tradition then to meet every weekend at that table. Then one weekday turned into the weekend. Then the weekend turned into every other day. Soon enough, you guys were attached at the hip, finding time to eat lunch together, listening to lectures in class together, even sneaking into each others dorms after curfew for movie nights.

The two of you were easily best friends and per the rules of best friendship, you two shared nearly everything. Stories about the god awful roommate, awkward confrontations with professors, even stories of embarrassing slip ups made.

You two told each other almost everything. Which was why it was so weird to hear about his break up with Haley from his friend.

He had called you from Aaron’s phone, so you didn’t think twice about picking up the phone. But when you heard the loud music and starkly different voice, you knew something was wrong.

“y/n?”

“Mark? Where’s Aaron, is everything okay?”

“Aaron’s fine. Physically at least…look I need your help.”

You noted the slight slur over his words as he slowly began to panic.

“Anything.”

“Haley broke up with Aaron and he…well he didn’t take well to I suggested we go out for drinks since it’s spring break and so he could feel better, but when I turn around he downed like 7 shots and now he can barely stand and I didn’t think ahead and I’m drunk so I can’t take us home but he’s plastered so he can’t take him home either and I called my friend but they have the tiniest fucking clown car ever and he can’t fit so-,”

“Mark! Breathe. I can’t understand you.”

“Sorry…”

“Do you have a ride?”

“Yes.”

“Does Aaron need a ride?”

“No. I mean yes. Yes he needs a ride.”

“Where are you?”

There was silence for a moment. “Miller’s.”

“I’ll be there in 10.”

Aaron didn’t talk until he reached his empty dorm, putting more than half of his body weight on you.

“Haley broke things off.”

Your heart broke into a million pieces at the sight of his sad face. His eyes were wet, but not yet ready to release the tears the built and a pout fell upon his lips.

“I know.”

He had dragged you into bed with him, hugging you to his chest like a pillow as he sulked. You took the embrace hesitantly but welcomed it. Your arms wrapped around his waist and you kicked off your shoes, climbing into bed with him.

“I tried to tell her that I can be better. I can call her more, and visit her more, but…she didn’t want to hear it.”

You looked up at him sadly. “It’s not your fault…long distance just isn’t made for everyone.”

A silence spread over you two and you thought he’d fallen asleep.

“She said I’m in love with you…”he blurted out.

It was an awful feeling hearing those words. It felt as if a bomb had dropped into the abyss of your stomach, but it never went off. It simply sat there and weighed so heavily down on you. Tugging at the string of your heart and encapsulating your lungs in a chokehold.

“She said I’m in love with you and I don’t even know it.”

Saying it a second time only confirmed the dread inside of you was true.

“…what did you say?”

“Nothing. I didn’t know what to say.”

“Oh.”

You don’t know how long you sat there, frozen in place and frozen in mind. It felt like forever and nothing at all. It felt like you were dying.

“I need to leave,” you started abruptly. You untangled yourself from his arms and sheets and began to slip your shoes back on but a hold on your wrist stopped you.

“Kiss me.”

What?

You had to be dreaming.

Or maybe it was a nightmare.

“Aaron, I’m not going to—,”

“If you kiss me then I’ll know.” Determination shined in his eyes and he furrowed his brows down into a frown. “I’ll know if I’m in love you or if Haley is wrong.”

You didn’t know what to do. Your face felt numb and your heart. Oh your heart. It ached. Seeing such sadness painted on his face was the first blow, but his words…His words were like a hammer to porcelain.

So you laughed. If you could even call it that. It was more like you breathing out for the first time in minutes. “I’m not going to kiss you—.”

You didn’t think he’d get any closer but he did. He scoot down to the very edge of the bed and tugged you forward so that his legs laid on either side of you.

“Please.”

Your heart melted into nothing as he brushed his nose against yours. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as his lips whispered over yours but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

It was Aaron. How could you care about something like that?

It was a moment of desperation that surged your lips forward, pressing into his in a sloppy but arguably perfect kiss.

Your hands immediately rushed up to meet his hair, tugging and running your fingers through his gorgeous locks.

You dreamed of this moment since he approached you in the library asking for help, but none of your fantasies could live up to this.

His lips were unexpectedly soft and gentle as they moved down your jawline and to your neck. He left open mouthed kisses now, eliciting gasps from your mouth.

It was bliss for the first minute. 60 seconds of heaven as you basked in the glory of being loved by Aaron Hotchner.

But when those 60 seconds were up, you crashed down to Earth and realized what the hell you just did.

You pushed him away, fear shining in your eyes. Or was it tears.

“This was a mistake. I’m so sorry.”

He was drunk for christ sake. What was wrong with you?

You didn’t look back as you rushed out of him room, slamming the door behind you.

It took you two days to cook up the courage to talk to him again. He had left you so many missed calls and you felt terrible as you let it go to voicemail, but you couldn’t find it in you to talk to him yet.

The day you finally chose to talk to him, you were ready. You had a paper of what to say in case you lost your words. Macy said it read out more a confession and maybe it was, but you needed you speak your peace. You needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

You clutched the paper in you hand as you approached the elevator that would take you to his floor. Hesitantly, you reached to touch the button, but pulled back when the door opened on its own.

By some higher power, your dread grew even more when you saw the face on the other side of the door.

What are the odds you’d see Haley Brooks right as you were going to confess to her ex-boyfriend.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, immediately recognizing you. “You’re y/n! I can’t believe this!”

Haley immediately stepped out the elevator, a bright smile finding her lips.

“You’re…Haley.”

She was somehow even prettier in real life. It almost hurt.

“I just have to say…I’m so sorry for ever accusing you of anything. I was concerned and worried and paranoid cause to be honest, I haven’t spent this long away from Aaron.”

These words were supposed to be relieving. Why didn’t you feel relieved?

“What did he tell you?” It came out as a pathetic croak.

“He told me that he does love you, but not in the way I thought. That you’re his best friend in the highest regard and every time we were having a rough patch, you were there to make sure we were okay.”

Suddenly would remembered every time you gave him relationship advice. Every time you told him to cherish what he has, appreciate every moment he has with Haley because time was most important to a long distance relationship.

Were you really your own betrayer?

“You were there for him when I couldn’t be. And you made us both realize that we need to appreciate what we have, because it’s special and important.”

You did say that. Didn’t you?

You couldn’t remember the rest of Haley’s words. You didn’t want to remember the rest of her words. You don’t know how long it had been since she left, but when you finally came to your senses, you folded that note into your pocket and stepped away from the elevator.

You couldn’t bring yourself to see Aaron Hotchner ever again. So you didn’t.

part 2 out now!!

taglist: @mackannkees

[cherienymphe]

Cruel Intentions (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, manipulation, mentions of abuse, therapist!Steve, silverfox!Steve, drugging

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ Image by @angrybirdcr

      ➥ dividers by @firefly-graphics

This is for the “For the Fic” challenge whose winner for my fic was @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

The entire plot was her request and I hope that you like it!

summary: after escaping an abusive ex, you find solace in a therapist recommended to you by a friend. 

~

“...I know I shouldn’t...but sometimes I blame myself. In Harry, I know that I was looking for what I never had in my family. I think it made me quick to rush into things...to ignore what I should have seen.”

Your eyes remained on the dark carpet, the man before you humming as the scribbling sound of his pen reached your ears. You fought hard not to fidget, a horrible habit you’d picked up in the last 3 years. You finally lifted your head again when the room was bathed in silence, eyes meeting familiar blue ones as he studied you.

You were used to these short moments of silence by now.

You’d been recommended to Dr. Steve Rogers by a friend, a friend who’d helped you escape your violent ex in the dead of night while he’d been away on business. She had grown worried when it became obvious that the effects of your tumultuous relationship would be lasting if you didn’t do something about it. Oddly enough, you’d been receptive. For 2 whole years, you’d wanted to tell someone, have anyone to turn to and talk to, but fear, a very valid fear, had stopped you.

Not only had you been worried for your life, something that was threatened on a constant basis, but you’d also been afraid of judgement. You worried what your friends would say, if they’d blame you for finding yourself in such a predicament, if they’d look down on you for no longer fighting back. It was only by a stroke of luck that Nakia had seen Harry slap you right across the face when he thought she’d left. You were grateful that she’d waited for him to leave before rushing towards your trembling frame, pulling you into her arms as she shushed you.

She had demanded to know how long this had been going on. She had been horrified and confused and angry. It didn’t take her long to come up with a plan, and within 2 weeks, after waiting for Harry to leave the city for 2 days, she’d gotten you out and into her place across town. You didn’t stay for long, maybe a few weeks, wanting nothing but to put it all behind you, and although she was sad to see you go, she understood.

It was how you found yourself in upstate New York, in a secluded tiny thing of a house. You hadn’t even realized that you’d become something of a recluse until Nakia had pointed it out during one of your weekly calls. It had never hit you that you went to work and to home and that was it. You barely ate anymore, so grocery shopping was never a frequent affair. That was when she’d told you about a well known therapist in the area, Steven G. Rogers. You had been shocked by how much you weren’t opposed to the idea as she went on listing all of his credentials. 

It was only moments after she hung up that you found yourself researching him yourself. You remembered noting how handsome the man was, even more so in person. His bright blue eyes and silver tresses complimented his strong features nicely, pink lips pulled up into a polite smile. You didn’t find yourself put off by the stranger, thinking to yourself that talking to someone you didn’t know, an objective listener who was paid not to judge you, might be for the best.

You soon found out that was easier said than done.

The first visit had been rocky, barely mumbling a thing and constantly fidgeting. You had hardly been able to meet his eye, and the session had abruptly ended when you’d left early, stumbling over your words as you gave some half assed excuse for your sudden departure. He was far more understanding than you deserved during your second visit. Wracked with guilt and anxiety, you’d written some things down that you wanted to talk about, and thankfully, the man hadn’t laughed at you. In fact, you remembered how fondly he looked at you as you unfolded it.

As it turned out, you didn’t need the slip of paper at all. Notes forgotten, you had rambled on for an hour. It was like once you started, you just couldn’t stop, and Steve simply listened the entire time. The next time he spoke to you was only to tell you that your time was up, and both embarrassment and disappointment had flooded through you. It must have been obvious, plain as day on your features, because Steve reassured you that it was normal to ramble. 

You had been reluctant to leave. After years of biting your tongue and living in fear of even making the wrong sound, you finally found someone to listen. Even if it was only a stranger getting paid for it, it was still something. There was someone to express your fears to, and although it had taken some time, terrified that you’d say the wrong thing and upset him, eventually, you started to express your anger too.

“...and then I get angry all over again,” you continued when he said nothing. “...because I’m smart, because red flags in others’ relationships have always been so obvious to me. I’ve always been the mom friend, the one who can spot trouble before it even starts. I’ve helped friends get out of situations before they even had the chance to turn sour…”

You shook your head.

“...and yet...it took a slap to the face to realize just how deep I was in? Not the jealousy, not the anger issues nor the way he’d isolated me from just about everyone in my life...but a slap? It should’ve never gotten to that.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the actions of others.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time he’d told you that, and yet here you were again.

“We can go in circles analyzing your own behavior and the things you did and the things you said, but the truth is that you could play it out in your head a million times. You could do every single thing differently, and it still wouldn’t change a thing.”

The corner of his lips lifted into a crooked smile, a familiar sight.

“Some people are simply cruel, and it has nothing at all to do with you.”

You sharply inhaled, unsure of why such a simple statement resonated with you so deeply. You stared at Steve, blinking a few times, opening your mouth to respond when he glanced at the clock. It was a tell tale sign, and your shoulders sagged. You would think that after seeing him for 7 months now, you’d be used to leaving after only an hour, but it never got easier.

“That’s all the time we have for today,” he said, standing. “You’re progressing nicely, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, and he chuckled, eyes crinkling. 

“You are. Progress and healing isn’t linear. Sometimes you’re going to take 2 steps back before you can take 10 more forward. It’s all part of the process,” he assured you.

You sighed.

“Well… I guess that does make me feel a bit better,” you replied.

He sent you a small smile as he guided you towards the door.

“I’ll see you next week?”

You returned his smile with a nod and didn’t let your face fall until the door was shut behind you. The good thing about therapy was that you could recognize your own toxic behaviors now, and it was clear that you were becoming reliant on your sessions with Steve. You had never liked being alone, but you had come all the way out here to learn to do just that. For your sake, you needed to learn to love being alone. It was how you had gotten into this mess to begin with.

Your phone vibrated with a call from an unknown number, and figuring it was a scam call, you silenced it.

Your house was practically in the middle of nowhere, so when the tv wasn’t blasting or you didn’t have Spotify playing some light tune, the house could get scarily quiet. But that was what you wanted...right? Harry had always been so explosive. The smallest of things could set him off and then the sound of yelling and shattering glass would rain down on you. Silence and solitude was what you wanted, needed.

Your phone buzzed again as you settled into your car, and you huffed when you noticed it was the same number. Again, you weren’t unfamiliar with scam callers so you ignored it. You noted that you needed to go grocery shopping, but you weren’t on the precipice of starvation just yet, so it could hold off for another day. By the time you got inside, your phone had started to buzz again, and with a frown, you decided to answer it.

“Hello?”

You were met with silence as you unlocked your door, and you repeated yourself, but there was no response. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You both loved and hated coming home. It was quiet and safe and everything you had craved for years now, but the unfamiliarity of it all unnerved you. Sometimes you were just waiting for Harry to come flying through the door, screaming and breaking things. You had to remind yourself that this silence, this security, is how it’s supposed to be.

You went about making a quick meal, hopping into the shower while leaving the stove on low. When you got out, in the process of moisturizing your arms, you noticed your phone buzzing with another call. From that same number. Unease filled you as you neared it, and you hesitantly reached for it before answering.

Again, you were met with silence, and frustrated and annoyed, you simply blocked the number. A quick look through your phone revealed that you’d missed several calls from the same number while in the bathroom. Blinking with a deepening frown, you set your phone down and made your way to your kitchen. Dinner, like always these days, was quiet. You curled up on the couch with your plate while you watched some old sitcom.

The rest of the night passed as blandly as it always did. Sleep was much easier to find these days, so you had no trouble as soon as your head hit the pillow. However, just as you were on the verge, your phone buzzed with another call. This number didn’t match the previous one, but it was unknown nonetheless. With a groan, you put your phone on silent and rolled over, sleep claiming you.

“I know it’s you,” you sneered into the phone.

Unsurprisingly, you were met with the faint sound of breathing, and you clenched your jaw. You slammed the car door behind you before stomping across the parking lot.

“I know it’s you,” you quietly repeated. “Stay away from me.”

You hung up before blocking the number, the 10th number you had blocked in the past week. Every few hours or so a day, like clockwork, you got calls from an unknown number. You’d always end up blocking the number after the first few calls, but they always called again from a different one. At first, they’d say nothing, and you’d listen to silence for a few seconds before hanging up. Now, they’d taken to breathing in your ear like a creep. It wasn’t even until you blocked the 3rd number did it finally hit you.

Harry.

Harry freaking Osborn.

You felt like such an idiot for not putting it together sooner. Of course, it was Harry. Was this not the same man who threatened to hunt you down and drag you back like some animal if you ever left him? You had always equated woman beaters to cowards so you never thought he’d have the nerve to actually do it. Putting the pieces together didn’t bring you any comfort. Your filthy rich abusive ex had managed to track you down. What comfort was there to find in that?

Since that day, you hadn’t had a proper night of sleep. Your mind was constantly at war with itself on what to do. Having been down this road before, you knew the police would be no help. You’d gone to them once before, at the very beginning after the first time he’d hit you. It was your first harsh lesson that money ruled over everything. If you thought hard enough, you could still recall his hands around your throat, eyes alight with anger at what you’d tried to pull.

Still, you considered at least trying to get a restraining order but at the end of the day, that was a mere piece of paper. If Harry came to your door, it wasn’t going to stop him from hurting you, and that’s even if the whole process went through. They don’t just give restraining orders out willy nilly. You tried not to dwell on that hypothetical situation, but if he’d found your number, it would only be a matter of time before he found your address.

“Oh!”

You’d only just entered the grocery store, barely stepping into an aisle when you bumped into someone. The chips and bread in his hands went flying to the floor, and apologies tumbled from your lips. It was only after you helped him pick up what you made him drop did you realize who you’d run into.

“Dr. Rogers...hi,” you breathed.

The corner of his lips pulled into a crooked smile, head tilting to the side as his gaze fell onto you.

“We’ve discussed this before, Y/N. You’re more than welcome to call me Steve,” he told you.

You gave a nervous chuckle, nodding.

“Yeah...uh… I normally do, it just...it just slipped my mind,” you replied.

He blinked at you, eyes narrowing just a bit as he studied you. His brows furrowed in that concerned way you were used to, a silver strand of hair kissing his forehead.

“Everything okay…?”

You folded your arms over your chest, nodding with a strained smile.

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. “It’s just… It’s been a weird week. Our next session cannot come fast enough.”

You forced a light laugh, and he joined you. He placed a hand on his hip, eyes boring into your own.

“There’s a coffee shop just over there,” he gestured. “Did you want to sit and have a chat?”

You frantically shook your head.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you told him. “I-.”

“I know I’m your therapist, but I want you to think of me as a confidant outside of the office too. You’re more than welcome to talk to me anytime. In fact, I encourage it,” he interrupted. 

You nervously eyed him with a frown.

“Are...are you sure?”

His smile was comforting.

“This may be my job, but it’s one I chose because it’s one I enjoy. I don’t want you to feel like you’re only allowed to talk to me during our sessions,” he quietly said.

You bit your lip, and Steve continued.

“I’d hate to think that you’re bottling things up for days on end, suffering in silence because you’re just waiting to talk to me,” he confessed.

Your shoulders sagged, and you hesitantly nodded.

“...okay. I just need to get a few things for the house.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “You know where to find me.”

You parted ways, and a sigh escaped you. You really didn’t want to become reliant on Steve. Wasn’t the whole point of therapy to learn how to process your feelings and cope with them better? Running to your therapist every time you have a problem just seemed counterproductive. And yet, once your car was loaded up with the few items you bought, you found yourself making your way to the coffee shop.

After ordering a small drink, you easily spotted Steve at a table in the back. You noted that even outside of your sessions, he still dressed nicely. The dark button down he wore contrasted with his light hair, dark slacks making him appear taller. You felt simultaneously nervous and comforted as you settled across from him. There was a brief silence, one in which you sipped on your drink while he eyed you before finally speaking.

“So what’s on your mind?”

What a loaded question. You struggled over whether or not to tell him the truth. Your abusive ex had found you somehow and was currently harassing you. That’s not something you could just casually drop into the conversation. Besides, Steve was your therapist, not your friend. You didn’t think it fair to rope him into the drama with your ex. That wasn’t part of his job description. Right?

“Just sleepless nights,” you said.

It wasn’t a complete lie. Steve eyed you like he was waiting for you to continue, blue eyes soft.

“I’m also worried that...my past might not remain in the past.”

Once again, this wasn’t a complete lie. 

“How so?” Steve hummed.

“I can’t help but wonder about what will happen if Harry finds me. He always threatened that he would if I ever left, and while I never believed him before, I just keep wondering… What if he does?”

Steve tilted his head at you, and you leaned back in your seat with a sigh.

“I’ve moved all the way out here to get away from him. I’ve isolated myself because I thought it was for the best, but it would have the opposite effect if he ever found me. I’ve never been particularly close with my family as you well know, and I’ve left all of my friends. I’m all alone here, and it’s the worst thing to be if he ever did track me down.”

Like always, you had started to ramble, and you snapped your mouth closed, embarrassment flooding through you.

“What brought all of this on?”

Steve’s eyes were sincere as he ran them over you, handsome face twisted in concern, and you glanced away.

“Just thinking,” you lamely replied, eyes on your drink now. “It’s something I’ve always thought about, sure, but it’s been more pressing as of late.”

“Well...that’s what I’m here for. You shouldn’t have to deal with these thoughts alone,” he eventually said.

“I know,” you sighed, rubbing your temples. “...but I shouldn’t become so reliant on you. The whole point of therapy is to learn to deal with these things on my own, is it not?”

Steve exhaled, leaning back in his seat as he gazed at you.

“Not necessarily. Not always,” he answered. “...but even then, until you can get to that point, it’s best to lean into your support. After all, you’ve gotta crawl before you can walk, right?”

You nodded, taking in his words.

“...and even when you’re walking, you usually need someone there in the beginning to hold your hand in case you fall. I encourage you to talk to your friends more, maybe even branch out and find some friends here, but I’m here as well. Don’t halt any of your progress because you feel like you need to be dealing with this alone. Outside help does more for your progress than you’d think.”

“I guess that does make sense. I don’t know… I just- I’d feel so bad about showing up at your office throughout all hours of the day or calling your receptionist-.”

You cut yourself off when he took out a pen and a slip of paper.

“Here,” he said, scribbling a number on it before handing it to you. “This is my personal number.”

Your eyes widened. 

“Oh, I can’t-.”

“It’s fine, trust me.”

You hesitantly returned his smile, taking the piece of paper.

“Don’t hesitate to call me anytime you want to,” he told you, standing.

You joined him, fingering the note before sliding it into your pocket.

“Thank you…Steve. I don’t know if I’ll ever actually call you, but just knowing that I have the option makes me feel so much better,” you whispered.

You heard his pager go off, and you watched as he glanced at it. He let out a sigh, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded disappointed.

“I’ve got to go, but I hope you’ll use that number if you need to.”

Thanking him again, you said your goodbyes, and you watched as he exited the shop. The slip of paper felt heavy in your pocket, so you solved that by putting his number into your phone. Just as you were about to put it back into your purse, it buzzed with a call from an unknown number. Fear settled into your gut, and with a grimace, you silenced the call and blocked the number.

You were late. You were so late it was laughable to even show up at this point. Your shoes tapped against the tile as the numbers on the elevator lit up as it passed each floor. You slipped through the doors as soon as they parted, and with no mind to check in, the receptionist calling your name, you raced towards Steve’s office. You reached his door just as he opened it to step out, and the papers that he was holding scattered to the floor as you collided with him. You hadn’t even realized how fast you’d been running until you were knocked on your ass. 

You could hear the heels of the receptionist as she ran over, apologizing to Steve for letting you slip past her, but he waved her off. She reluctantly returned to her desk, and you scrambled to sit up, reaching for everything that had fallen.

“I was beginning to think you’d never show,” Steve joked.

You gave a shaky laugh.

“I uh...I got caught up,” you replied through trembling lips, fingers shaking as you struggled to stack all of his paperwork.

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but you avoided his gaze.

“I know I’m late. Our hour is practically over, but I- I just… Um, crap.”

You had dropped the papers all over again, and you both reached for them at the same time. At least, that was what you thought. Steve’s hands covered yours, and you only just realized how badly they were shaking.

“Y/N.”

His voice was soft, exactly what you needed right now, but you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

Your chest was tight, and you wanted to will your lips to form a yes. You wanted to tell him that everything was fine, but you couldn’t even get the words out. He called your name again, and you suddenly stood, taking the papers with you. You handed them to him as he followed your lead, still avoiding his eye.

“I’m sorry for being late, and I know that you probably have another session-.”

“I don’t,” he interrupted. “Come in.”

You glanced up from beneath your lashes as he opened the door, ushering you inside. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he shut the door behind you.

“Is everything okay?”

You turned your face away from him, unable to keep it from crumbling as you held in a sob.

“Y/N.”

The way he called your name had you freezing in place, a shiver running through you at his firm tone, authority in the one simple word. In a way, it reminded you of Harry, and you looked to him with wide eyes. Seeming to understand what he’d done, Steve sighed before sitting down, making himself appear smaller to show that he wasn’t a threat to you.

“I’m sorry,” he genuinely apologized. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Please...sit.”

You hesitantly did so and reached out to take the tissue he offered you. You hadn’t even realized that you’d started crying.

“Now… I’m going to ask you again, and I’m begging you to please be honest with me. I’m here to help you in any way I can,” he whispered.

You wiped your face, sinking your teeth into your lip.

“It’s...Harry.”

Steve’s face was pinched with concern.

“What is it? Are you having nightmares again-?”

“No, you don’t understand. He’s calling me,” you confessed.

Steve froze, blinking a few times before his eyes widened, your words finally registering. You sniffed, fighting to hold in a sob.

“It started weeks ago, before we ran into each other that night…”

You didn’t miss the disappointment that flitted over his features, lips pressed together.

“...and I know I should’ve said something then-.”

“You should’ve called me.”

“I know! I know, but… I don’t know. I just wanted to handle this on my own,” you quietly said.

He didn’t respond, and you turned your eyes towards the window.

“Last time...I wasn’t able to get away on my own. I wanted it to be different this time. At first, I simply blocked him but he kept calling and calling from different numbers. Then I got a new phone...and eventually another, but it’s still the same. He keeps finding me,” you tearfully told him. “...and today…”

Your eyes met his, and you were comforted by the concern you saw there.

“Today I was at the police station. That’s why I was late.”

Steve straightened up at this.

“I thought that maybe I could get a restraining order or maybe they could trace the calls to show that it’s him, but the whole visit was useless. They boiled it down to petty relationship drama, and since there’s no record of his violent behavior because I never reported anything…”

You shrugged, scoffing.

“There’s basically nothing they can do. The whole visit was a waste,” you spat.

Steve heaved a sigh, and he slowly reached out towards you, leaning forward.

“I didn’t ask before, but… Is it alright if I hold your hand?”

You nodded. That was what you liked about Steve. He was always asking for your consent with just about everything, even the simplest of things, and it was such a nice contrast to Harry who used to feel like he was entitled to your body. Steve took your hand, throwing you a comforting smile as he eyed you, worried.

“I wish that you had called me,” he said.

You looked down, guilt filling you.

“I could have helped you before it ever got to this point. I have friends on the force, friends in high places who could lock this creep up if you wanted.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

Of course Steve, Dr. Steven Rogers, knew people who could help you. Of course he did! Your stubbornness had gotten you far deeper into this than necessary. 

“What have I said about self deprecating language?”

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“You’re not an idiot. Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re just a woman trying to find her strength again.”

You hesitantly nodded, and he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I want you to get rid of your phone,” he suggested.

You frowned, and he continued before you could question him.

“I’ll work on getting a new one for you. A secure one under my name.”

You frowned, not liking the idea of being so indebted to him.

“Steve, I don’t know-.”

“It’ll only be temporary. You can use it until I talk to some people and have him properly dealt with.”

Even though you weren’t keen on the idea, you reluctantly agreed.

“...and you have to promise me one thing…”

You eyed him, holding his gaze as you waited for him to continue.

“Promise me that you’ll call me the second he bothers you again,” he proposed.

Accepting the fact that your stubbornness was doing you more harm than good, you nodded. Steve seemed pleased with that, and with one last pat on your hand, he let you go. As he guided you out of your office, your phone in his hand, you felt more hopeful than you had in over a month. You felt so silly for not seeking out his help sooner, and you couldn’t deny the weight that had been lifted from your shoulders as you settled into your car.

True to his word, at your next session, Steve presented you with a new phone. It had all of your important contacts with Steve being at the top of the list. Embarrassment had flooded you as you thanked him with tears in your eyes. The week without your phone had been the most peace you’d had in a while, and you finally got some much needed rest.

“You haven’t heard anything from him, have you?” he’d asked you.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “Not a peep.”

He threw you that same smile that always brought you comfort.

“Good. Even if you never do, you’re always free to call me,” he’d reminded you.

Finally deciding to let your stubbornness go, you did. Talking to Steve outside of your sessions was easier than you thought it’d be. It was like talking to a friend. Sometimes you’d meet up at that same coffee shop not too far from his office, and other times you’d be putting a quick meal together while he was on the other line, listening to you ramble. You soon realized that it wasn’t just his profession that made him that way, but Steve truly was an unbiased listener. He never judged you for any steps back in your progress nor for any of your more self deprecating thoughts.

Best of all, you hadn’t heard anything more from Harry.

Not until he knocked on your door one night.

It was late when you’d heard the pounding on the wood, and having been watching tv in your room, you wondered if you imagined it. It was only moments later that you’d heard it again. Your eyes had widened, sitting up in alarm. No one knew you lived here. Not even your mailman. All of your mail collected at a Post Office box before you eventually went to pick it up. You stood, standing in your room, trembling in fear before a knock on your bedroom window had you screaming.

You didn’t hesitate to call the police, and it took longer than you liked for them to arrive. All the while, you dealt with knocking and pounding on your window and door. Back and forth, it alternated with minutes in between before stopping altogether when the sound of sirens could be heard. Unsurprisingly, and frustratingly, the police didn’t find anyone.

“Look, we’ll get this report down to the station,” the brunette had told you, not looking concerned in the least.

Frustration filled you, and you shuffled on your feet.

“Can’t you...idk, have someone stay here? Not even the whole night but just a few hours in case they come back?”

The tall man sighed, and you glanced at his badge. Officer Barnes, you noted.

“With all due respect mam, we can’t just have one of our officers sitting in your yard because someone knocked on your door-.”

“I told you-!”

“I know, I know. The windows too,” he said, sounding exasperated, and your frown deepened. “The best we can do is get this down to the station. You’re more than welcome to call us again should anyone come back.”

You crossed your arms over your chest as they left, finding no relief. You swallowed as you thought about Steve. You didn’t want to, but Harry had found you, tormenting you by knocking on your house in the dead of night. This was exactly the reason Steve had given you his number. Swallowing down your stubbornness, and with a deep breath, you called him.

He didn’t sound like he was asleep, and for that you were grateful. You would’ve kicked yourself if you had woken him up. Finally getting out why you’d called him was an awkward affair, stumbling over your words, and you felt even worse as he agreed to come over. There was no hesitation, and you couldn’t help but feel as if you were taking advantage of Steve’s generosity. 

You mumbled out your address, surprised to realize how relieved you were. You couldn’t remember the last time you had trusted a man this much. Harry had made you so paranoid, but you supposed that was what therapy was for. This was why you had all those sessions with Steve. To learn to heal and to trust again.

You opened the door with a small smile when he finally pulled into your yard. He was dressed comfortably, and you felt much better about your own ratty t-shirt and leggings, but his casual attire made him no less striking. 

“Thank you,” you breathed as he stepped inside.

“I was up going over paperwork when you called. I’m glad you did,” he told you.

You leaned against the door as you closed it, rubbing your arms.

“I didn’t know if I should. It’s just… He was here, Steve. Knocking on my door and window like something out of a horror movie, and the police treated it like it was nothing,” you complained.

Steve tilted his head at you with a sad smile.

“First thing in the morning, I’m going to make some more calls. Since he’s in town, it should be easy to have him put away. At the very least, a restraining order.”

Relief and hope filled you as you brushed past him.

“I really can’t thank you enough for coming over. I promise I won’t keep you long, just until I feel I can be ok being alone,” you said over your shoulder.

He followed you into the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Eat? It’s the least I can do.”

“Some wine might be nice. You might want to pour yourself a glass too,” he suggested.

You chuckled, and he joined you, but you agreed with him nonetheless. You poured a glass for both of you, and you leaned against the counter with a sigh.

“I just don’t understand why he can’t leave me alone. Hasn’t he put me through enough?”

Steve hummed.

“From what you’ve told me, he strikes me as a narcissist. I’d bet that he doesn’t want you to move on,” he mused.

“Maybe,” you distractedly replied as you heard your phone ring. “I’ll be right back. Let me grab that super quick, it might be Nakia.”

Your phone was in your room, but by the time you reached it, it had stopped ringing. Sure enough, it was a missed call from your best friend, and you brought your phone with you to the kitchen, determined to call her back. Steve’s eyes were fond when you returned, and you shrugged.

“I need to call her back. I’ll only be a moment,” you said, swiping your glass.

“Take all the time you need.”

You made your way to the living room, taking your place on the couch as you called her back. She answered almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She greeted you with a soft exhale.

“Uh… Harry’s...dead.”

You froze at her words, pulling the glass away from your lips. You blinked a few times, trying to come to terms with what she’d said.

“...what?”

“I just found out. I honestly didn’t know how you’d take the news, but I thought you should know.”

She was right. You yourself didn’t even know how you felt about this news. You had loved this man at one point...but he was also your abuser. This was good news...right?

“How?” you finally asked her.

She sighed.

“Apparently, he’d been missing for months-.”

“Months?”

“Yeah,” she quietly replied. “They found and identified his body today. I just saw it on the news.”

Your stomach twisted as the truth, and the meaning behind it, sank in. Just because Harry had been missing for months, it didn’t mean that he’d been dead for months. It very well could have been him harassing you like you believed. But...if they’d found and identified his body today, then there was no way it was him at your house tonight.

“Thank you,” you eventually said. “Um… I’m glad you told me.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” you honestly replied. “I’m just a little unsure of how I feel about all of this, but I’ll call you tomorrow when I’ve slept on it.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

You said your goodbyes and returned to the kitchen with an empty glass.

“Everything okay?” Steve questioned.

Your face must have been an open book.

“Harry’s dead,” you scoffed, blinking as you still fought to process this.

Steve didn’t respond, and just like one of your sessions, he seemed to be waiting for you to continue.

“Apparently he’d been missing for months and they just identified his body today. There’s no way it could have been him knocking on my door tonight, and now...now I’m even more scared than I was before,” you confessed. “God, I can’t even fully come to terms with my feelings on this because I’m realizing that Harry might not have been the only thing I should’ve been afraid of.”

“Hey,” Steve soothingly said, nearing you. “Are you sure it wasn’t someone who got lost? Maybe they had the wrong house?”

You thought about it before shaking your head.

“No, it definitely didn’t seem like that. Oh my God,” you cried, letting your head fall into your hands.

Steve pulled you into his arms, startling you, but you eventually relaxed, the wine settling into your system nicely.

“It’s going to be alright-.”

“What if it isn’t? Because I’m the idiot who thought that Harry was the only possible danger out there, I’ve attracted another without even realizing it.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “Maybe it was nothing, and maybe it was more. Either way, I’m only a phone call away. Say the word, and I’ll have an officer living in your yard if need be.”

You chuckled at that, and nodded.

“Thank you,” you said, looking at him. “I-.”

You swallowed your words when his lips met yours, soft and demanding as they moved against your own. You were stunned, and it took you a moment to realize just what was happening before you pulled away. You stared at Steve with wide eyes, hesitantly reaching up to touch your lips as you took a step back.

“Steve…”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed.

Your lips parted, a soft gasp escaping you at both his words and the fire in his gaze. It was so sudden and great that it froze you.

“Steve, I think… I think you should go,” you whispered, almost in disbelief.

He frowned at you, tilting his head just a tad as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Go? Why would I do that when you’re not feeling well?”

You opened your mouth to repeat yourself, even demand to know what he meant, but a sudden wave of nausea hit you, head feeling fuzzy. Steve caught you just as you stumbled, and you frowned, fighting to get out of his arms.

“What…?”

“You seemed really tense. I thought you could use something to take the edge off…”

You stared at him in disbelief, attempting to blink away the stars in your vision. Your legs felt like they were made of Jell-O as Steve guided you towards the living room. He deposited you on the couch, and you could hardly do anything as he laid you down, sitting beside you. His blue eyes, normally so soft and comforting, were dark with a longing you had never seen before.

“You were like a wounded little lamb when you first came to me,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your lip. “So lost...broken… It’s because of me that you’re even halfway back together again.”

His hands moved to slowly undress you, taking his time, and your hands might as well had been air as you tried to stop him. You shuddered as the cool air in the house hit you, nipples pebbling, even more so when Steve brushed his fingers over them.

“I wanted to wrap you in my arms during that first session. Drag you back as you tried to leave, show you how a woman should be touched by a man.”

You were in a state of shock, disbelief coursing through you as you watched Steve undress. Even at his age, the man was a wall of muscle, thick bands making you swallow in fear as you hopelessly tried to tell yourself that this was a dream.

“Steve,” you whispered.

“I had to be patient. I didn’t want to scare you off, push you into the arms of another dangerous man. I had to help you heal before showing the kind of man I can be for you,” he told you, fingers on your face as he neared you again.

Your whole body felt weighed down, and you couldn’t stop your tears even if you wanted to. Your touch was light as you pressed your hands to his chest, feeling like you were going to be sick as he settled over you.

“Harry is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore, and I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

The irony was not lost on you, but the way he said that struck something in you, and your mind traveled to the unthinkable. You didn’t get the chance to think about it some more before Steve was forcing himself inside of you. A choking noise escaped you as he filled you to the hilt, your legs spread wide to accommodate his frame. Steve released a shuddering breath, breathing through his nose, body trembling as he delighted in the feel of you wrapped around him.

It was amazing that while all of your senses felt dulled, you could feel his pulsing member inside of you so well. He surrounded you, bulky frame caging you in, and you felt like you would pass out from suffocation. Steve sighed just before his lips met yours, and your stomach clenched as he moved within you. A broken moan slipped out against your will, and Steve groaned at the sound.

“I’ll show you pleasure that you’ve never known, touch you in ways you never felt. I know how to make you happy,” he purred, his pace languid as he thrust in and out of you.

You turned your head away, the furniture of your living room blurring together from whatever he’d slipped into your drink.

“I know your deepest desires and your deepest fears. I know you better than anyone else out there…”

You hated that in a way, Steve was right. You’d bared yourself to him under the guise of trust and healing. He really did know all there was to know about you, and you hated yourself for it. You hated him for hiding his intentions so well, for taking advantage of your vulnerability and trauma. He tutted as you started to squirm beneath him.

“After all I’ve done for you...in all the ways I’ve helped you, the least you could do is give yourself to me. I deserve to reap the benefits of my efforts-.”

You gasped beneath him, legs kicking around him, but he only pressed himself more firmly against you.

“...I’ve gone out of my way to make sure you were safe, to protect you so that no more threats remained to you nor our relationship.”

“You’re crazy-.”

You cut yourself off with a yelp as he nipped at your neck, jerking in his hold as he continued to snap his hips into yours. His hands were gentle on you, a contrast to how he fucked you, his pace increasing with every passing minute. Despite the fact that you could hardly move, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you in place as the sound of your coupling filled the room, your core now wet and slick from his ministrations.

Steve seemed intoxicated, blissfully immersed in the feel of you and how you clung to him. His low groans and moans filled your ear, and you could do nothing as he covered your lips again, tongue tasting you, moaning at the taste of wine that still remained.

“My touch will never cause you harm, bringing you nothing but pleasure for the rest of our lives.”

~

tags:  @xoxabs88xox​ @harryspet​ @readermia​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @nickyl316h​ @captainchrisstan​ @sebabestianstan101​ @villanellevi​ @lokislastlove​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @coconutqueen21​ @hurricanerin​ @hyoyeoniie​ @sherrybaby14​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @mandiiblanche​ @gotnofucks​ @oneoftheprettynerds​ @doozywoozy​ @sapphirescrolls​ @threeminutesoflife​ @searchforanotherway​ @mcudarklibrary​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @widowsmaximoff​ @nerdygirl8203​  @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @charmed-asylum  @harrysthiccthighss​ @patzammit​

[libraryofloveletters]

Love Delivered To Your Doorstep

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of cheating, break ups and killing/serial killers. (<in a joking context) 

Category: fluff for the most part. 

Word Count: 3.9k

Author’s Note: Doesn’t follow canon, it has a little of buck begins in there but it doesn't follow a strict timeline. It also is written like Buck moves to LA and has his apartment from the moment he moves there while trying to figure out what he wants to do. 

-----

Texting and calling was never your choice method of communication. 

Letters had always been more of your thing. 

Truthfully, they hadn't been your thing until your boyfriend moved halfway across the country for university. The two of you met in high school, freshman year and became inseparable since. Growing together and promising to always love each other no matter what -you always knew that couldn't be true but it never stopped you from telling him. 

When he told you that he was going to be applying to UCLA during your senior year of high school, it came as a bit of a shock to you. The plan was always going to college together, get engaged when you were done school and then married with a house by 30. 

You held out the hope of that being possible until the day he showed you his acceptance letter. 

You were incredibly proud of him but it was real now, he was leaving. 

You watched him pack up his entire life and uproot himself from New York and moved across the country. You sent the first letter to him at what was supposed to be his apartment. 

September 30th.

‘Hi baby! 

Just writing to see how you're settling in. How’s UCLA ? Have you gotten a chance to go around and get to see the place ? I know you’re there for school but you've got to live a little too. Hope your neighbours are sweet, your mom told me it’s a pretty nice place and it’s got a good view, sounds like your type of place. Hopefully I can come visit you soon. 

I started my classes last week. My chem professor is a pain in my ass already, he expects us to read an entire textbook in a week - well not exactly an entire textbook but you get the point. My biology professor is a sweetheart, she showed us pictures of her kids and talked about them for an hour, I didn't realize being a mother was so interesting but she was cool. Also showed us a video of an appendectomy that one of her colleagues performed last week. How are your classes and professors ? 

Did I mention I bumped into Sam at the grocery store ? Yeah, he’s back and he’s not fine to tell you the truth. He seemed like he was ready to snap but that might just be my judgment. He said to tell you hello if I spoke to you so- hello :) 

I’m going to sign off here, I know this one is short but I don’t have much to update you on. Life’s been pretty dull without you. Hope you’re having fun out there, soaking up the sun for me.

Write me back soon, I love you. 

Yours always, y/n’

You mailed the letter the next day, a few weeks had passed before you received a letter back. Except this letter had a different sender name but the same address.

October 22nd. 

‘Hi y/n,

This isn't your boyfriend. (I'm assuming that’s who you're writing too based on the context of the letter) I’m Evan, I live in the apartment you thought belonged to your boyfriend or maybe you got the address wrong, I’m not sure.  I know you were waiting for an update on all these exciting things that are happening at UCLA. I do not go to UCLA nor can I update you in anything exciting that’s happening there, sorry.

Anyways, the reason I'm writing you back is because I figured you’d want to know that this isn't the correct address and the person you were looking for isn't here before you send another letter and get no response. I was debating if I should have even written you back, but here I am, writing you back. 

Your professor for chem seems like an ass to be honest (hope that’s not rude) and your biology professor sounds great, is she hot by the way ? because bonus points for that. Anyways, are you studying medicine ? I'm guessing yes because of the classes you're taking. I'm thinking of signing up to become a first responder but I haven’t decided yet on what yet or if I'm actually going to do it. Anyways, good luck on your classes and the shitty chem professor. 

Hope you find your boyfriend (again, assuming) 

Peace out, 

Evan.’

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. How could the letter you sent to your boyfriend’s apartment belong to someone else ? Why was there someone else living in his apartment ? You dug through your apartment, searching for the paper he left you with the address, you finally found it buried in a drawer.

The address on the paper was identical to the one that Evan sent to you and to the one you sent prior to that. Either your boyfriend was lying or you were losing your mind. 

November 4th. 

‘Dear Evan, 

I'm sorry that I sent the first letter to you and as you guessed, I was looking for my boyfriend who seems to be a bit MIA right now. His mother says that’s the right address and the place that she helped him move into. So I'm not really sure what’s happening there. Anyways, sorry for unloading all of that on you. 

To answer your question, yes, I am studying medicine and no, she isn't hot. My bio professor is a 65 year old woman who loves her college aged kids very much. If that’s your definition of hot, then yes - she's got milf status

Have you decided yet if you’re going to sign up to be a first responder ? That’d be pretty cool. Imagine all the girls swoon over you and how many girls you’d pick up just for being a paramedic or a firefighter. 

Wait, are you into girls ? Or guys ? You know, whoever you're into, just imagine how many of them you’d pick up. 

Also, you’re not a murderer or anything right ? because I rather not answer questions when the police come asking about why I've been sending letters to a serial killer. 

Anyways, signing off for now. 

Yours always, y/n. 

ps. if you do end up bumping into or meeting a guy that looks like my boyfriend, (tall, brown hair, brown eyes. he’s got a pierced ear and a little butterfly tattoo by his collarbone- though not sure why or how you'd see his collarbone) let me know or tell him that his girlfriend is looking for him.

Double ps, what size shirt do you wear ?’

Buck laughed at your absurd question. A person he didn’t even know was asking what size shirt he wore. The letter was set on the coffee table with the rest of the mail, getting buried under all of the stuff he had on there. It was almost the end of December when he realized that he hadn't written you back yet. 

December 21st. 

‘Hey y/n, 

Sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. Things have been hectic over here. I’ve been doing some ‘soul-searching’ - I guess you could call it that and honestly, I don’t think if this whole first responders thing is for me. 

I tried out bartending or well, the technical term is mixologist and I’m liking it so far, I think i’m going to stick with it for now. 

How have you been ? How’s school ? Surely, you’re on break for the holidays right about now or at least when you get this letter. I hope that you're spending the break doing something fun. 

I’m not going to make this very long, I’m sure you’ve been busy with whatever you’re doing right now. 

Also, I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you located the mysteriously disappearing boyfriend yet ? I haven't seen anyone that fit your description. 

well, that’s not true- I did and just to be sure I asked to see his collarbone, he looked at me like I was a mad man so I guess it wasn't him ? 

Anyways, I hope you have a good holiday and you're probably gonna get this sometime between holidays, so merry belated (?) Christmas and happy New Years y/n. 

Peace out, 

Evan. 

ps. medium or large, depending on what it is. Hopefully that answers your question weirdo.’

January 13th. 

The morning of the 13th, he went down to check his mail. A box was there with his name on it, the return address was one he had only seen on an envelope. The box returned upstairs with him, setting it on the counter before opening it. 

Upon opening it, there was a letter and some colourful tissue paper with what seemed like a sweater under it. He opened the letter first.

‘Dear Evan, 

Happy New Years! How was your holiday going ? Did you do anything fun ? 

I’ve been good and school is good too, I'm almost done my first year, isn't that crazy ? Just a few more months to go. 

How’s your job as mr. mixologist going ? I'm sure you’ve met some wild people and heard some interesting stories. 

As for the boyfriend situation, that's over. I’m not surprised to tell you the truth but it still kinda sucks. Anyways, so what happened was that his older brother had come home from college last year and brought a friend with him. She went to the same school as his brother but transferred to UCLA- anyways long story short, they hooked up while he and I were still together and he moved in with her after his mom helped him move into the apartment I thought he had. 

But! I’m single and chilling now so it’s all good. (bonus, she cheated on him and left him so yeah) 

I got you a little something for Christmas and as a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present. I was in the gift shop and it made me think of you. Do you celebrate Christmas? I forgot to check oops. If you don't, count it as a just a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present? 

I got a large because I wasn't sure if it would fit. I hope you like it. That’s all for now.

Yours always, y/n.’

He unwrapped the tissue paper to see a blue sweater with the letters NYU on it. He smiled, he assumed that’s where you went. It was sweet that you took the time to get him something, even if it was a by the way thing. Not a lot of people would send something to a person they had been talking to via letters and halfway across the country. 

February 12th. 

2 days before Valentine's Day, your least favourite holiday of the year. You weren't looking forward to watching all your friends going on with their boyfriends and girlfriends. The mail had arrived while you were out, you picked it up and headed in. There were two envelopes with your name on it,  a plain white one and a red one. The red envelope was more squared than rectangular, you assumed it was a card- both had the same sender name. 

‘Hey y/n!

Thank you for the sweater, it was nice of you to think of me and get me something. I didn’t know we were doing gifts or I would have sent you something as well and yes, I do celebrate Christmas. 

My job as ‘mr. mixologist’ was going well until I quit. It just didn’t feel like the right fit for me you know ? I'm going to see what else is out there for me. 

Sorry to hear about your boyfriend, he seems like a douche. Who would cheat on you ? You seem great I mean at least you are on paper (did you get my joke, it’s hard to tell) 

Also, remember how I was thinking I might actually give that first responder thing a try? Imagine me as a firefighter, that’s pretty cool right ? 

So I kinda did a thing and signed up and then I got in. I started two weeks ago and it was kicking my ass at first but I've gotten a hang of it and things are going pretty well. There's three other Evans in my class so everyone calls me Buck-I kind of like it. 

The other envelope, hopefully you opened this one first, is a little something for you for valentines. Hope you like it. 

Peace out, 

Buck’ 

The red envelope was on your lap, you pulled the edges carefully not wanting to rip it. Inside was a plain white card with bright red letters that made you laugh. The cover read ‘I’m not sick of you yet!” Opening the card, a $20 fell onto your lap. There was a little message inside that went along with the cash. 

‘Since we aren't together and can’t spend valentines together, there’s some cash to get yourself a box of chocolates and a teddy bear. Happy Valentines Day y/n

Love, Buck.’ 

You smile, this was the first time that Buck had signed with ‘love, buck’ it had always been ‘peace out, buck.’ You tucked the card into the drawer, one you didn’t use very often so you knew it’d be safe there. 

*4 years later*

A few weeks had passed since Buck had last heard from y/n. His last letter to her was at the end of June, telling her all about the day he had spent at Hen and Karen’s. He always described every little detail so vividly that it made her feel like she was there with him- but it was now July, end of actually and moving into August. 

4 years had blown like nothing.

It felt like just yesterday he got the first letter in the mail. 4 years and they still had no idea what each other looked like but they knew every intricate and intimate detail about each other, their lives and the people in it. 

Y/n and Buck had grown rather close over the last few months- more than they already were. Y/n just went through a pretty shitty break up and Buck wasn't exactly big on relationships as of right now. 

He had just gotten home from work, his keys set on the counter when he realized that he forgot to check his mail. Stepping back out, there was a woman in the hallway and boxes scattered across her, leading into the apartment down the hall. 

She must be his new neighbour.

He wanted to go over and introduce himself but she was busy telling the movers where to set her couch so he decided that he would check the mail and then introduce himself when he returned so he did just that. 

Except, she was still busy. 

She leaned against the wall, watching the movers move what looked like a coffee table. She glanced up to see Buck walking by, she smiled and he returned the smile. 

Buck reaches his apartment, the mail in hand and steps in. He sorts through the pile, bills, ads, coupons and no letter from y/n. 

---

Your new apartment was a mess. You decided it was time for a change. You applied to a few hospitals after your break up and the one in LA hired you. So you dropped everything and moved- no family, no ties. 

A fresh start. 

It was a nice neighbourhood and the building was quiet. The neighbours you met were pleasant and welcoming. When you were having the furniture moved in, there was a blonde man who smiled at you and you assumed he lived in the unit down the hall because that’s where he stepped into. 

It was almost 11pm when you finally sat down. You had been on your feet all day and just wanted to eat something. The box with the dishes was beside the couch, you pulled the tape off and opened it. There was an envelope sitting on top of the stack of plates. 

Buck’s last letter to you. 

You must have tossed it into the boxes while packing and you forgot to write him back. Tumbling through the boxes, you find a sheet of paper and a pen from your bag. Sitting on the floor, the paper resting on an unopened box, you begin writing. 

‘Dear Buck, 

I’m sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. I quit my job, and uprooted my entire life. The break up sucked major ass as you know, so I decided it was time for a change. 

Guess where I decided to go ? 

Did you guess yet? 

No, not Canada, why would you guess Canada ? 

LA! 

Yeah, isn't that crazy that I ended up here of all places? Maybe we could get together one day (if you haven’t turned into a crazy serial killer that is.) 

Anyways, that’s why I've taken so long to write. I was packing when I got your letter and I tossed it in a box and just found it again. Anyways, I hope you’ve been good, how have things been at the station ? 

I promise I'll write again with more details soon, I just have to get settled in first. 

Yours always, y/n.’ 

Folding the paper, you slipped into an envelope. The address being scribbled into the back of the envelope. You were about to seal it when the building number caught your eye. 

It was the same number as the place you moved into. The same address, the building number, the same floor. 

The unit number was the only difference. 

There was no way you moved into the building that Buck lived in. 

You knew the address felt familiar when you saw the listing but you didn’t think anything of it nor did it occur to you that you knew the address. 

Stepping out of your apartment, looking at the number on the room and back down at the envelope in your hand. Buck’s apartment was down the hall. 

Part of you just wanted to mail it and keep things as it was but another part of you wanted to meet him, to see what he was really like in person. So there you were walking down the hallway at a quarter past 11 in the dead of the night to meet a man you had been sending letters to for the last 4 years. 

The end of the hallway, you stared at the black wooden door in front of you. Your brain weighing the options right now: he’s a sweetheart and welcoming and makes you feel comfortable or he’s a weird guy who’s been lying to you this whole time and you told him everything about you and now he’s going to kill you. 

Before you could register what you were doing, you knocked on the door. 

Glancing down at yourself, you were wearing a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt from high school that you found in a drawer while packing. Not an ideal outfit, maybe he’s sleeping and you can go home and change- the door opened, a man wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt stood there. He looked like he had just woken up. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” 

“It's alright,” he yawned, his hand covering his mouth as he blinked away a few tears. “What can I do for you ?” he leaned against the door. 

“Um, this is an odd question-” you shifted, glancing down at the envelope in your hand. “Are you Buck ?” 

“I am, who are you ?” 

“Y/n.” 

You had never seen a man wake up that fast, he seemed surprised, confused and concerned all in one. “How- uh, are you- What ?” he mumbled. 

“I found your letter in the box after I moved, I moved into the apartment down the hall” you point to your left, Buck sticks his head out of the doorway and looks at the door you were pointing to. You were the woman in the hallway that he saw earlier, he knew you looked familiar. 

“I just wrote your letter and I noticed that the addresses were the same, just a different unit number so I decided to come check. Sorry if I bothered you, we can talk another day- it’s late and you probably have work” “Would you like to come in?” he opens the door a bit more, looking to you for an answer. 

“Um, okay sure.” stepping in, you can’t help but glance around. The apartment was similar to yours, the layout was a bit different though. “Can I get you something to drink ? Coffee, water ? A beer ?” he rounded the kitchen counter, you took a seat on one of the chairs by the counter. 

“Water’s fine, thanks” 

He reached for a bottle from the fridge, sliding it over to you. You gave him a smile, he leaned against the counter and was now looking- studying you. 

“I know we’ve talked to each other for 4 years but this is kinda strange” you chuckled awkwardly, Buck can't help but smile. 

“Yeah, it is, isn't it? but can I ask why you moved to LA?” 

“Well all of that was in the letter” you slide the envelope across the counter and he picks it up, opening it. Giving him a few moments to read, you watch his expression like you were hoping for some insight as to how he was feeling or what he was thinking. He let out a laugh, “how’d you know I'd guess Canada ?” you smiled at him, a small wave of relief washing over you for some reason. “Lucky guess I suppose” 

“Do you-” “What are-” the sentences cutting each other off, the two of you awkwardly smiling at each other. “You first” looking at him, he hums. 

“Do you have work tomorrow or are you busy ?” His eyes meet yours, you found yourself leaning forwards towards the counter- towards him. He made you feel comfortable, you’d go as far as to say safe, in a way you’ve never felt before. 

“No, I don't start until the 21st. Why ?” 

“I was thinking - if you're not busy and if you want to, of course. Maybe I could take you out for breakfast and I could show you around ? Or lunch or dinner ? Whatever works for you actually” he rambles, fiddling with his fingers to avoid eye contact. 

A small laugh slips past your lips causing him to look up, his brows furrowed as he studies your face, looking for an answer. 

“Breakfast sounds good, what time should I be ready for ?” 

“Uh, is 10 okay ?” he asks, you nod. “I’ll be ready for 10 then.” 

“Okay, I'll pick you up” he smiles. 

“Buck, we live in the same building.” 

“Oh right,” he chuckles, “well I'll be by yours at 10 then” the two of you smiling at each other. 

“Okay.” 

----

taglist: @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @beth-winchester21 @fernandaweasley2 @yikesyikesyikes95 @hotchsdarling @duhbar1975 @hailsstormthings @averyhotchner  @captainxholmes @venusrosepetal @luke-alvez​ @looney-literature @caitsymichelle13​ @artemishunter18​ @anxiousblanketqueen​

[spiderling-space]

This idea is inspired by @zozobegone ‘s this post 

Setting: Grim goes platonic yandere mode when he realizes MC is going to go back to their world

It is written from Grimm's perspective

Italics indicate thoughts

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

The Great Grimm

Warning: Unhealthy dependency and friendship

"Henchperson, give me those candies!" Grimm ordered (Y/N) after trying so many times to reach the top shelf.

"Aw, you couldn't reach yourself?" (Y/N) had seen Grimm jumping and trying to climb to take the candies. They didn't do anything but watch him fail for the last 10 minutes, they couldn't help themselves as he was being so cute. "What's the magic word?"

After grumbling a little, Grimm spoke coercively, "Please..."

"That's a good boy!" They patted him on the head before grabbing the candies and giving them to him. 

He started devouring them the moment he got his hand on the candies. He thanked them quickly before focusing entirely on his food. They were just so delicious, he couldn't resist it!

"Honestly Grimm, what will you do once I'm gone?" They sighed as they took a seat in the kitchen.

The words didn't register for Grimm at first. "Eh?" He stopped eating for a moment and looked at them. "What nonsense are you babbling about?"

"Hmm? Oh! Well, you know, it's been months and lots of progress have been done. Crowley finding a way for me to return home is right around the corner." They spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"That birdman doesn't do anything but whine and pin all the tasks on us."

"I convinced him to do the actual work and he made a progress on finding a way for me to go home." (Y/N) stood up, walking toward him and kneeling to his height. "I'll give you a secret, I haven't told anyone this." They gulped before smiling, "Crowley found the way for me to go back. We just need ingredients and get some tests done then I'll be able to go back. I haven't told others about it yet because I wanted to have something concrete but since you are like my second family, I wanted you to know first."

Huh, he thought.

Grimm continued eating, ignoring what (Y/N) had said who got up and left the kitchen after sharing their secret. At that moment, it didn't bug him at all since he thought they were joking.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

It didn't even pass a week that (Y/N) started to tell the others that they would be leaving soon and ask their help to get the ingredients and spend their last days together. Meanwhile, Grimm became more and more irritable as the days passed by.

Grimm didn't have a family nor a friend. When he opened his eyes to the world, he was in a back alley by just himself. He fended for himself and decided to become the greatest magician when he heard people talking about Night Raven Collage. He didn't have anyone who supported his dream nor he needed one. He would accomplish it on his own and show everyone how great he was. Of course, things didn't go as planned and he got thrown off the moment he revealed his true self at the entrance ceremony and was even threatened to get eaten. What's worse was that when he returned to NRC, showing the persistence of an NRC student, he was about to be thrown again. That would be the case if it weren't for (Y/N) sticking up for him. He wasn't a sentimental monster and he hated to be called cat by (Y/N) despite his catly activities as they called it. However, deep down he knew it was because of (Y/N) that he became a student in the NRC, getting one step closer to achieving his dream. Heck, he and (Y/N) were considered one student together.

It wasn't just (Y/N) creating him an opportunity that made him care about them, it was everything. They studied together; they slept on the same bed, shared meals and snacks, played games, did homework, complained about the school and students together. Not to mention, how much he enjoyed getting petted, belly rubbed and washed by them. They had each other when no one was around and always stood against overblot student together. In Grimm's eyes, they were an inseparable and astonishing duo; even a family he never had, not that he would say it out loud.

Maybe that was why he was miffed by everything that was going on... What would happen to me if (Y/N) were to go back? Become alone again? Get kicked out of NRC? Have no friends and family? No, that's not going to happen!

As the days passed, the attention he got from (Y/N) diminished gradually, came to a point that he only saw them in classes and when they got back. They were out with another person every day, not sparing enough time for the Great Grimm. 

How dare they, he thought while heatedly huffing and puffing on the couch.

Grimm dearly missed the old times when (Y/N) wasn't obsessed with going back. He didn't even receive enough petting last few days nor they studied together. His mind wandered to their time spent together when he noticed something. (Y/N) would leave everything behind regardless of how important it was when he got into serious trouble or got hurt. They would sweep in to save his neck. It just clicked at that moment. 

He would get into trouble or injured to get their attention on him. However, then the other minions would gather around them too and their attention would be divided. It was not something he wanted. An idea struck in his head after a few minutes of thinking. As expected out of the Great Grimm, it was a brilliant plan.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

"Oh my goodness, Grimm! What happened to your paw-paw?!" (Y/N) rushed to his side, kneeling and examining his paw.

Grimm grumbled acting as if he didn't want to tell them. "Nothing, Great Grimm is fine!"

"Don't be ridiculous! It looks broken!" The worry on (Y/N)'s face was gratifying since he got their attention back.

"Ask your best friends," He answered with faux melancholy, withdrawing his paw near his chest and turning back as if he would leave.

"What does that supposed to mean?" They asked, confussion evident on their face just like Grimm wanted.

"Azul tricked them into doing his work and asked them to collect all the feathers on the roof. Ace and Deuce took me with them then we got into a fight and I fell off the roof." He lowered his head for extra effect.

"And they didn't even take you to the infirmary?!" He managed to get them riled up.

"It was my fault th-"

"That's not an excuse! For fuck's sake! C'mon, we are going to the infirmary." (Y/N) wrapped their arms around Grimm and lifted him en route to the hospital wing.

"Hey (Y/N)! Do you -"

"I can't believe what you two did!"

"What we did?" Deuce mumbled, fearing their wrath.

"Don't talk to me for some time and at least take responsibility and apologize!" (Y/N) stormed off before Ace could finish his sentence. Both Ace and Deuce look perplexed as (Y/N) marched away. Grimm was looking at them over (Y/N)'s shoulder, taking in their puzzled looks and flashing a grin as (Y/N) walked away.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

For the next two weeks, Grimm continues with his plan.

"I swallowed a lot of soapy water." Grimm said as he was rubbing his belly, it genuinely hurt. Swallowing soapy water was more awful than hurting his paw.

"Azul! You promised to not do this and shame on you Jade, Floyd!"

3 more down, plenty to go...

"Leona, have you seen Grimm? He is way smaller than you! How couldn't you realize what your claws would do on Grimm?"

"Ruggie, Grimm got food poisoning because of you! You could have just stolen his food instead of replacing them with expired ones."

"Jack, I've never expected this from you. I'm very disappointed."

"What? What are you talking about?" Jack asked hastily but it fell on deaf ears as (Y/N) didn't even listen to him, grabbing Grimm and leaving them standing.

Woo hoo! My plan is working fantastically! 

"He could have died Kalim if it were higher!"

"Jamil, I thought you would stop making people poison taste. Grimm has been puking all day long because of you!"

Grimm grinned wickedly as he was once again carried by (Y/N).

Wait until I'm done with all of you! HAHA, You cannot defeat me!

Grimm was thinking of new original ways to distance (Y/N) from the rest of Heartslabyul, Pomefiore, Ignihyde and Diasomnia. The last one would be the hardest as he had a powerful competitor who also sought (Y/N)'s attention but it didn't matter, Grim would be the only one!

That was what he thought until Birdman came bearing the news...

"(Y/N)! Good news! All the tests we did on the mirror worked! You can go back now!"

Everything stopped right there and then. 

Grimm was so focused on getting (Y/N)'s affection and attention that he forgot about the tests they were doing on the mirror.

Now I am too late...

"My goodness! Thank you! I missed my home so much! I'll start saying my goodbyes!" (Y/N) spoke rapidly, they truly were happy to hear the news.

Happy to leave me all alone!

"No worries, they all gather around the magic mirror, waiting for you." Birdman informed, "Are you coming now?"

"Yes!" (Y/N) said before turning to him, taking him in arms and carrying him outside.

That is not how it was supposed to go...

As they were walking outside before leaving the Ramshackle perimeter, Grimm jumped on the ground.

"What's wrong?" (Y/N) stopped to ask.

"What's wrong?!" Grimm couldn't contain it anymore. everything was too much.

"(Y/N), do you need a moment to say goodbye to the dorm?" Birdman questioned, getting closer to where they were standing.

"Uhm... yes... I mean I spent months here so I should say goodbye to it. You can go, we will catch up in a moment."

With that Birdman walked away, leaving (Y/N) and Grimm alone.

"Is there something you wanted to talk about?" They asked idiotically. 

Are they too dumb to understand?

As Grimm was about to tell them what was on his mind, unfiltered, he felt a power within himself. A power that wanted to surge out of him and he let it since he had nothing to lose anymore.

"You will leave me all alone!"

"But you already knew that, Grimm. This place isn't my home and if I took you with me, you would be discovered and people would do experiments on you." Their voice was so soft as they tried to reason with him but none of them mattered.

"We are one student together, you can't leave until I graduate!" The power inside of him grew even more.

"Well, Crowley said he-"

"We fought the monsters together. We are a team, you called me your son!" He could feel that power getting closer

"I-" He wasn't going to let them speak anymore!

"So you see me as a family but you abandon me!" He felt the power leak outside and he didn't even care about it.

"GRIMM!" (Y/N) yelled, taking a few steps back. "I, I, I changed my mind, we will be together!"

"You want me to have no one again!" Grim screamed, not even noticing how his voice changed. "AAAAAHHH!"

Everything went black for a moment and the second he reopened his eyes, everything was different. He was no longer looking up to (Y/N); he now was looking down on them. They were so tiny.

"YOU CANNOT LEAVE!" Grimm screeched when he saw (Y/N) backing and running away. He jumped, landing right in front of them who fell on the ground from the shock and still trying to crawl away.

"G-Gr-Gr-Grim, i-i-it's me! We are friends, remember? I know you wouldn't hurt me because we are family, innit?"

"It is too late for everything but you are right. We are family..." Grimm said, his voice echoing, giving it more menacing feelings. 

Grimm was no longer waiting for (Y/N) to understand that they couldn't leave him. He had no intention of waiting anymore. He leaned towards them slowly, biting their clothing and lifting them.

It was always (Y/N) who carried Grimm around relentlessly now it was Grimm's turn. Once he was sure that they wouldn't fall, he took off, running away from the Ramshackle, leaving NRC behind.

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Resurrect Me (N.R.)

Warnings: swearing; death; Hell/the Underworld; cliff jumping lol

Word Count≈ 3.1k (yikes lol my bad)

Hecate一 the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, the moon, ghosts, and necromancy. Known to be an intricate mosaic of good and evil, destruction and beauty. Capable of granting wishes, summoning the dead, resurrections, teleportation, warping realities on unfathomable scales, mind control, energy manipulation, and any sorcery or magic known to the Gods. Second only to Zeus himself.

I am the human embodiment of Hecate. I am not Hecate; she merely resides in the depths of my soul and provides me guidance. We do not communicate through words; she speaks through dreams and gut feelings, and sometimes even through signs in the outside world. I have not mastered the powers she’s granted me, nor have I reached my full potential. In addition to the Goddess’ powers, I hold the basic Olympian powers, such as superhuman speed and stamina. I have no recollection of how I merged with Hecate or the life I lived before this point, and she has provided me with no answers, but I do not question her motives. 

Agent Phil Coulson came across me in my temple in Turkey. Apparently, he had discovered strange energy readings coming from the temple. When he arrived, I used the power of energy manipulation to blow the concrete off of me, and that is the first thing I remember一 emerging from underneath Hecate’s temple.

I joined the Avengers during the Battle of New York. Agent Coulson had recommended me to Fury when he was piecing together the Avengers Initiative. In the three years between my awakening and the invasion, I practiced my sorcery mercilessly and studied Hecate deep in the Greek countryside. I’ve stuck with the Avengers throughout the years, fighting every battle alongside them. Through the ups and downs, I’ve fallen head over heels for Natasha Romanoff. One would assume that with so much power, I’d be confident and have any mortal begging at my feet. That couldn’t be any more inaccurate, however. As I’ve said, I am not Hecate; I am simply the human embodiment of the goddess. And as a human, I turn into a blushing, stuttering mess whenever the levelheaded assassin is near. Consequently, there have been many years of pining, but I’ve yet to muster up the courage to ask the woman on a date.

In our most recent war, we’ve gone up against a mad titan一 Thanos. We lost terribly. Half of all living things inhabiting the universe were snapped away. I can’t help but ponder whether things would’ve gone differently if I had better mastered my powers. I potentially hold all the capabilities of the goddess of magic; aside from Zeus, I hold more power than any being to ever exist. I’ve practiced my sorcery every day for the past five years on the off chance that we ever get a rematch一 a chance to bring everyone back. I’ve improved significantly, but Hecate has been oddly quiet for the past few years. It’s driving me crazy. I know she’s still there, but she hardly provides an ounce of guidance.

And so, that is where I find myself now一 practicing sorcery in the room specifically designed to isolate me when I use dark magic. Everyone who has access to the training section of the compound knows that they should never enter this room. It is far too dangerous for regular mortals. As I warp the room’s reality, a dark mist envelops me. When it clears, the room has changed into a 50s ballroom. I look down to see an elegant maroon ball gown covering my body, and I scan the empty area. I hear a pair of heels clicking toward me, and I spin around, already panicking. In order for someone to be here with me, they would have to be an inhabitant of the location’s true reality. My eyes land upon the woman I’ve grown to love, dressed up for the event. She is wearing an extravagant light blue ball gown, and her hair is carefully done up. 

“Natasha? What are you doing here?”

“Why I came to dance with you, of course.” She steps closer and drapes her arms around my neck, swaying to the nonexistent music. Stay calm. Don’t panic. There’s no way I’m making her do this. I’m not even doing anything! Of course I’m the one making her do this, who else would it be?! Breathe in. Breathe out. My powers don’t control me. I control them. Just breathe. I can do this. I know how to do this.

As I focus on the magic coursing through my veins, a black mist envelops us, and the room returns to its original form一 a basic training room with black padded walls. I immediately take a large step back from Natasha.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Natasha?! You know you can’t come in here! I could’ve seriously hurt you!”

“I...I’m sorry. I thought you’d just be moving shit with your mind. I didn’t realize you could do...that, whatever that was.”

“That was reality manipulation. I didn’t know you were here and I don’t have full control of it, so you got caught up in it. Are you okay? Do you remember it?”

“Yeah, I remember it clear as day. I was still me and I was still in control, it was just...different, I guess.”

“Well, I literally warped your reality, so even if you felt in control, you might not have been.”

“You stopped it, though. I remember when that seemed impossible. You’re getting better.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck. “What did you come in here for in the first place?”

“This is gonna sound crazy, but Scott Lang is here. We might have a way to bring everybody back.”

“Wait, what? Holy shit. It’s happening. Okay, come on then!” I eagerly walk past her, grabbing her hand as I pass her, and we leave my training room. I realize that I’m still holding her hand as we make it to the meeting room, and I immediately drop it, clearing my throat. If I wasn’t so familiar with the sensation, then I would swear that my ears and cheeks are on fire.

<//>

We all step onto the platform in matching white and red time-travel suits. “We’re really doing this?”

“Hell yeah, we’re doing this,” Clint answers.

“Alright, then. We bring everybody back,” I say with determination. “Whatever it takes,” Steve adds.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha adds with a smirk. Before I can appreciate how beautiful she looks with the glimmer of hope in her eyes, we’re flying through a flurry of colors. Nebula, Natasha, Rhodey, Clint, and I land on Morag. We all say our respective goodbyes before Nat, Clint, and I get on a jet to head to Vormir.

<//>

“A soul for a soul.”

“What? That’s insane. Look, no offense, Mr. Bloody Tampon, but why should we just trust what you’re saying? Because you know their fathers’ names?”

“I didn’t.” I looked into Natasha’s eyes as she spoke and I instantly wish that I could replace the dull sadness with the bright hope that had filled them before.

“He doesn’t know my father’s name. If he’s some mystical being, then why can’t he tell me that?” I turned to face him as I asked the question.

“I’m afraid you are a mystery. I am meant to know everything about any being who seeks the stone, but I know nothing of your identity.”

“Hm. Seems like a load of bullshit to me,” I deadpanned.

“We need to do this. We need to bring everyone back. I’ve spent the past five years trying to reverse the snap, and now I finally know how to fix it. Let me do it.” As Natasha spoke, she grabbed both of my hands in hers.

“And I’ve spent every day for the past five years training to do this. I wasn’t just practicing sorcery and talking to dead people for fun, Nat. All I wanted was to do better一 to fix this. If anyone is jumping off that cliff, it’s gonna be me.”

“No. Absolutely not. Neither of you is dying for that stone. I’ve done horrible things these past few years. I’ve killed...so many people. It should be me,” Clint says, and Natasha and I turn to face him, but one of her hands remains in mine.

“No way in hell, Clint. And not you either, Nat. Both of you guys have families. You’re not sacrificing yourselves. I won’t let you. And you can’t stop me even if you try.” Nat gives me a questioning look as I mention her family and I speak in her head ‘I know about them, Nat. And they need you. She needs her big sister.’

“What are you saying?” I can hear the anxiety lacing Nat’s words, and it causes a pit to form in my stomach.

“I think you know what I’m saying, Natty.” 

“Then you don’t leave me much of a choice.” She shoots a Widow’s Bite toward me, but I stop it using energy manipulation without even having to lift a finger.

“You can’t beat me, Nat. Please, don’t fight me on this.”

“I call bullshit.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Clint running toward the edge while we’re distracted, and I teleport in front of him, throwing him backward. I use mind control to force him to stay down. I sense Natasha running toward the edge behind me, and I teleport in front of her. I use energy manipulation to keep her in place, and I grab onto her biceps.

“I’m really sorry, Nat. I hate that I’m doing this to you, but I can’t let you throw yourself off a cliff for some stupid stone. Your life is worth so much more than that. You’re an amazing person, and your ledger was cleared of its red so long ago. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“This is sounding an awful lot like a goodbye.”

“You can be sarcastic all you want, but I’m not walking out of this one, Natty.”

“Don’t do this. The team needs you.”

“No, they don’t, Nat, and we both know it. They need you.”

“And what if I need you?!”

“Well if that’s the case, you’ll figure it out, just like you always do. Don’t let something like this hold you back. Goodbye, Natasha Romanoff.” I kiss her cheek before turning around. I start walking towards the edge, but it quickly turns into a sprinting pace as I hear Nat screaming for me to stop. Just before I reach the edge, I lift the mind control from Clint and I release Nat, just in case it doesn’t automatically lift when I die. I push myself off the cliff, turning mid-jump so I’m not facing the ground. As I’m falling through the air, I see Clint holding Nat in his arms as her screams fill my ears. I hit the ground and everything goes black.

<//>

“Hello, y/n. It’s good to see you again.” I sat up and一 what the hell is that smell? “Ah, yes. That would be burning flesh. Welcome to Hell, darling.”

“Uh...what? Who are you?”

“Yes, I suppose I should explain, hm? I am Hecate, Goddess of一”

“Yeah, I know what you’re the goddess of. How did I get here?”

“I thought you were smarter than this. You died, obviously.”

“And went to Hell? Damn.”

“Oh, relax. Hell isn’t what the mortals think it is. This is the Underworld. All of the dead reside here. The bad people get punished, the good people don’t. Simple as that. We don’t have a lot of time, so I need to explain. I am cursed; I cannot leave the Underworld. However, my human embodiment can, and that is where you come into play. You hold all my power, and I can see you’ve been practicing, but you’ve never lived up to your full potential.”

“Hey! Rude!”

“Don’t interrupt. I didn’t allow you to live up to your full potential, not until we met, anyway.”

“And I had to die in order for that to happen?”

“Yes. I’m giving you all of my power, but I can still stop you if I ever need to. I know you don’t want to risk hurting the people you love, especially the redhead, but you need to trust yourself. Trust your powers. Have a little faith. You are a goddess, remember. Don’t let people forget it. That purple thumb is nothing compared to you, even with his colorful rocks. Your family needs you now. You must help them.”

“That’s it? Why do they need help? How will I know what to do?”

“I will always be there to help you, Y/N. You can handle this. This is nothing. You are part of me, just as I am part of you. You are my daughter, after all. I should know your capabilities better than anyone.”

“Wait, daughter?!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Oh well, it doesn’t matter right now, anyway. You need to go.”

“Go where?”

“Home, darling.” 

The earth above us cracks open and I can hear faint sounds of fighting on the surface. I look at Hecate as she nods. Before I even realize I’m doing it, black mist surrounds my body and lifts me through the crack. I step out of the mist onto the ground and a staff appears in my right hand. I tap it once on the ground and my white suit is replaced by an all-black leather outfit that’s definitely made for a goddess. I smirk and make eye contact with the titan across the battlefield. His sickly creatures race toward me as they notice the new threat on the field. I summon an army of ghouls from the cracks in the earth. As the aliens and the undead clash, I teleport in front of Thanos.

“And who might you be, dear?” He acts confident, but I can sense his fear.

“I am Y/N, daughter of Hecate.” He tilts his head in a questioning manner. “Oh, did someone not study mythology? Hm, then let’s be blunt, shall we? I’m a goddess, ass-chin.” I throw my staff at his throat, but he catches it. He moves to swing his large sword at me, but I capture his arm in black mist. When he tries to move the other arm, I restrain that one, as well. “Well, that surely can’t be all you’ve got, hm? Pity, I thought it’d be more exciting than that.” If I were to look in a mirror at that moment, I would’ve noticed my ghostly pale skin, black eyes, and the raw power spreading through my veins like a black road-map.

“It’s not over yet, my dear child.” Before I can question the meaning of his words, an alien tosses him the gauntlet. It slides on his exposed hand, but I hold it open with dark magic. I look around and notice that the army of the undead is nowhere to be seen. My teammates are pinned down, even with the help of those who were snapped. There is a feeling in my gut and a voice in my head that tells me what I must do. I pull the gauntlet off his hand with black mist and slide my hand inside. I feel the power surging into my body. “What are you doing? That power will kill you!” Thanos sounds truly desperate.

“That’s cute. Truly, it is, but you can’t kill someone who’s already dead.” I close my hand and snap my fingers. His army fades to dust and he slumps to the ground before floating away with them. I drop the gauntlet to the ground and look around. Natasha runs toward me and throws her arms around my neck in a firm hug.

“Wha一what happened to you? How are you here? I thought you died!”

I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder before saying, “I did die. I am dead.”

She pulls away and looks at me from head to toe. “Well that explains why you’re so damn pale, but now I have so many more questions.”

“I am Hecate’s daughter, so I am technically a goddess, like her. I’m not sure if I was technically resurrected or not, but I can probably一”

She cut me off with a gentle yet passionate kiss. She pulls away and searches my eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” she admits.

“Me too,” I breathe out.

“Yeah, I picked up on that. You’re not very discrete.” I laughed and a smirk spread across her face. “As sexy as this whole ‘powerful goddess’ thing is, am I going to get the old you back? You know, the one who blushes whenever I look at her? The one who’s, like, alive?”

I smile at her and glance down at her lips as a thick black mist appears behind me. I step backward into it as her face morphs into a look of confusion. She disappears from sight as a wall of black fills my vision, and a surge of power spreads throughout my body. I fall to my knees and the black cloud disappears. Natasha rushes over and kneels in front of me. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think I’m alive again.” I lift my head and meet her eyes.

“Your skin isn’t crazy pale anymore, and your eyes are their normal color again.”

“Sweet.”

“Cool.”

We both crack up and I lean my forehead against hers as our laughter fades.

Tony interrupts our moment of peace. “This is all good and dandy, but does someone wanna explain what the hell just happened?”

I raise my head and look at my teammates一 my family. “I kicked the purple thumb’s ass. That’s what happened.” I can feel a warm presence in my heart, and I know that my mother is with me.

“Yes, yes, I noticed. I also noticed a bunch of demons. Care to explain that one?”

“They weren’t demons...they were just...the souls...of dead people. I can summon the dead. You knew that.”

“Uh, I definitely didn’t know that.” I laugh and shake my head at the eccentric man. 

I stand up, pulling Natasha with me, and bring her into another embrace. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Natty,” I whisper in her ear before pressing a delicate kiss to her temple.

A/N: I literally had this completely finished and edited over a month ago and I hadn’t posted it yet soooooo... idk here it is

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Wilfords Demands: Simple As That

Summary- 7.3k Curtis Everett x You. Realization of your predicament really sinks in, but Curtis wont simply let that happen. Wilford seems happy to extend the deal, after all Curtis is his favorite fighter, always has been. Confident that things wont be as bad as they could be, you and Curtis settle into preparing for the new child. Divider made by @firefly-graphics​

Warnings- talks of pregnancy, hint of possible abortion (a sentence), smut. 18+ Only. 

A/N- I can’t claim to know anything about pregnancy except what research has informed me. So descriptions will be vague and probably not accurate. 

Chapter 4 / Wilfords Demands Masterlist

“Then my Dear, you better encourage Curtis to win.” 

Those words sunk deep as you looked into Wilfords cold ice-sharp eyes, the way he was grinning as if this was a game. But it wasn't a game, this was your life, Curtis's life and ultimately the new life growing inside of you right now.

And right now it was better to stay with the devil you knew. Your hands flew to your still flat stomach, pressing it lightly while gasping out. 

“But I'm pregnant, with Curtis’s child. You can’t give me to another while raising his child.” You pointed out, hoping that the facts would be on your side in this. 

Wilford pulled back with a hearty laugh that made you feel sick, wanting to vomit hearing it. Claude to snickered at you as if you were to stupid to understand. Your confused look clouded your face. 

“Girl, you think you get to keep that baby? No woman like you gets to keep them.” Wilford wiped under his eyes to clear the tears. You could feel the blood ringing in your ears now as panic settled in your chest. 

“You are going to take away my baby?” 

“Of course you stupid bitch, you all are not fit to be mothers. Other more capable women will take them, raise them.” Claude snapped out gleefully at your distress. Wilford leaned forward giving you what was supposed to be a comforting pat on the hand, which you pulled back to your chest out of his reach. 

“Girl, you will birth that child and give him up to us. I might even keep this one for myself. If Curtis wins. I only keep winners. I expect you to be good to whoever gets to claim you after the tournament.” He shifted to a stand, putting his chair back. You were in too much shock to even comprehend what Claude and Wilford were saying to one another. 

“Ah, Claude, you better take her back to Curtis. The pretty thing seems to be in shock.” Wilford sighed a bit. “If she wasn't a tail ender, I would keep her for myself. She is a lovely thing. I'm sure Curtis will do his best to keep her.” 

You just stared ahead now while Claude pulled you to a stand with a mutter. “It is a shame Sir. But you don't really want to lower yourself to that.” 

All of this was just mumbled nonsense to you, still rolling over what they said earlier, neither you nor Curtis were going to get to keep the baby. 

Heading back towards the rooms, Claude paused you at the door and gave a nod to have it unlocked. 

Curtis had been pacing the room. To watch him was like the large cats in the zoo, coiled muscles back and forth pacing, snarls of frustration escaping at his predicament. The creak of the door made him pause though and you stepped through, your arms wrapped around your midsection and a blank look on your face. That scared him. And when the door slammed shut behind you, you flinched and blinked suddenly realizing where you were. 

“Y/N? Say something.” Curtis finally broke the silence, crossing the room to grasp your forearms, looking for another reaction from you. Anything to snap you out of the silence. 

You blinked a few more times and opened your mouth to say something but the words seem to be stuck somewhere. 

Curtis drew you to sit on the edge of the bed and lowered next to you waiting. Finally you looked at him, drawing in a breath. 

“There's a tournament? And I'm the prize?” You asked it like a question, still disbelieving. Curtis’s face darkened with a nod. 

“Yes. It's a gladiator style tournament once a year. I swear Y/N, I'm not going to lose and let anyone else have you. It’s why I have been training so hard.” He shifted in closer and let his hand rest on your thigh, squeezing lightly. “I have been training for these tournaments for years.” 

You looked down at his hand and studied it a moment, his knuckles were thick with scar tissue, some still busted from use. Fingers dug slightly into your thigh, as if holding you to him in case anyone tried to take you. 

Hands of someone who lived a hard life, but managed to be gentle on you most the time. You knew you would have to tell him the next part. This you didn't know how to deal with. It should have been joyful news, but it was so tainted by the situation. “I'm also pregnant, several weeks now. Did you know… when you got me pregnant that I wouldn't be keeping the child?” You cleared your throat a bit. 

Curtis withdrew his hold on you, flexing his hand. “Y/N… I never was sure but I suspected. The other women I had with me, I never saw them again. I don't know what happened to them or if they were allowed to keep their children.” His shoulders hunched. “But you… Wilford told me you were going to stay. He told you specifically that he would be taking it away?” 

You swallowed and pulled back into the bed, to use the wall as support, your legs stretched out before you and your hands resting on your stomach. 

“He did, he plans on taking it as soon as I give birth.“ You say darkly, already feeling protective and deep sadness that you wouldn't be able to prevent this. 

Unless… the idea was so dark, it made your stomach churn. 

Curtis was quiet for that moment watching you, worried at how quiet you had turned. He made a move to touch you and you withdrew from him. 

“Please don’t… just this once.” You asked and Curtis for the first time withdrew from you and moved to the chair at the table, rubbing a hand over his head. 

Any other time this happened, it didn't mean much to him except that his current charge was leaving. But to hear that you had his baby growing inside you made conflicting feelings. Part of him was thrilled, for whatever reason he wanted to see you grow and need him. To cradle his child to your chest and whisper sweet nothings. Warming his bed and filling his life. 

The dread followed close on that feeling, because nothing good ever happened on the train. Even if he won, you were still going to lose the child. And Curtis didn't think he could handle that pain, but more importantly, that you couldn't handle it. Pushing to a stand, he pounded on the locked door. Hard enough for you to jump “Curtis, what are you doing?” The door opened once more. 

“I need to see Wilford.” 

The guard shook his head. “Not till your appointed time.” Curtis surged forward, pushing the man back into the hallway wall and fisted his hand in his gear to lift him off his feet, snarling out. 

“I need to see Wilford now.” 

Let him come. Came a cackle in a walkie and Curtis let him go.

He didn’t look back as your panicked voice called to him once again. “CURTIS! What are you doing?” You were trying to untangle from the bed when the door slammed shut, the last view Curtis had of you was your look of confusion and panic. 

Without a word, Curtis was escorted back to Wilford’s. Being let in, Curtis didn't even hesitate as he brushed past Claude, who huffed in annoyance. “Asshole.” 

“You can’t take her child.” 

Wilford was standing up in the engine. “Isn't she just beautiful Curtis? Every part of her has a function that keeps us alive and moving. I’ve worked so hard to keep her running so smoothly” Curtis went up the steps into the hellish thing, not finding the beauty that Wilford seemed to be admiring. 

“Let her keep the baby.” He started again, clenching his hands at his sides to keep from grabbing Wilford. He knew if he did Claude would shoot him in two seconds, but the urge not to snap the man's neck burned through him.  

Wilford finally broke from whatever he was admiring and turned sharply to ascend down the steps, leaving Curtis standing there. “You two can just make more Curtis. Why this time? You never cared before what happened to the women or children.” 

“Because Y/N is staying with me, you take away that child and you will destroy a part of her.” 

“Make her easier to handle then wouldn't it? No fight left.” 

Curtis growled a bit. “She isn't a problem now Wilford.” 

“Listen, I’m not an unreasonable man. You win, you keep it all. The girl, the baby. We will change the terms of your contract. You Curtis were always one of my favorites. If it makes you happy, then I can give you this.” Wilford finally said, acting as if he was doing Curtis a favor by the way he spoke to him.

“What's the catch? If I lose?” Curtis asked knowing there would be more and Wilford shrugged. 

“Then you lose it all Curtis, just like always.” Wilford stated, snapping his fingers to have the guard come back in waiting for Curtis. “She belongs to the champion, she will lose the child and the terms of her contract with you will pass to whomever gets to claim her. Like I told your little Sweetheart, don’t mess up if you want to keep her with you that badly.” 

Curtis glowered at him, straightening to his full height. “I don't plan on it.” 

Wilford looked nothing but joyful and calculating. “Just what I wanted to hear.” 

After that Curtis was directed to leave the engine, the steel door slamming in his face. 

There is no other choice, not that there was much of one before going into the ring ever. If Curtis was to keep you safe, he was going to have to win. With that resolve, he went back to find you curled up on the bed, knees pulled up, arms hugging around yourself. As if you were trying to fold in on yourself and escape. Lifting your head when you heard the door open, Curtis could see the relieved sigh that escaped you. Your tension loosening in your hold as you shifted to sit at the edge of the bed. “What happened?” 

“I just talked to Wilford.” He made his way to the chair at the table, easing down in it for a minute while the silence stretched between you two. 

When Curtis leaned down to untie his boots, you ventured with your next question. Playing with your fingers. “About the child? Curtis if they take me away…” Your voice drifted, cracking a bit at the thought even passing your mind, let alone saying it. “Maybe it's just better that this baby doesn't come, you know? Maybe it's best to just-” 

Curtis immediately snapped his head up, eyes blazing in anger as he barked out sharply. “Don’t even go there Y/N. You and that baby are not going anywhere.” 

You quieted for a moment, looking down at your hands after his raise of his voice and you heard Curtis curse from his seat, moving to grasp your chin and make you look up at him. “Trust me okay Y/N. I'm not going to lose.” 

You wanted to, you could see the resolve in his gaze as he made you look at him. 

This sadness that was all over your face pained Curtis and he wanted nothing more than to take it away. His grasp loosened slightly on your chin, your eyes still uplifted to bore into his, but you made no move to pull away from him. He did what he could only think of to do, lowering his head, his rough lips pressed gently against yours and his hands sliding to cup your face. You were so soft in his hard life. 

This time Curtis didn't demand you to open for him, he waited, the top of his tongue tracing the seam to be allowed in. The action spun your head, and immediately the tickle enticed your lips apart, allowing him to tangle his tongue with yours. Pressing you back as Curtis continued forward, you fell back into the mess of the bed, Curtis moving over you while never breaking the kiss till you had to pull away to draw in a breath. But he didn't stall, bringing his mouth down to your jawline and the curve of your neck, pressing his knee in between your thighs so he could slot his hips there to press his weight over you. 

A while ago you learned how pointless it was to fight against him and now at this point maybe you no longer wanted to. He could give you mindless pleasure, let you forget the mess of your existence for just a few moments if you just let him. Curtis’s fingers expertly plucking away at the ties of your pants and drawing them down, muttering for you to lift yourself which you listened to, raising your hips under him while dragging your palms to brace against his back, digging in your fingers through the layers of his clothing to hold onto him. 

“Do you promise Curtis? I don't care what happens to me anymore. But this baby, Wilford cant have. Please promise me.” You gasped slightly under him as you felt his fingers start to stroke you, seeking for you to open once more for him. Arousal pooling with each expert touch heated you to a warmth that couldn't be found any other way. He dragged your shirt over your head, kissing against the top of your breasts and drawing a nipple into his mouth to suck between his teeth while you started to wither at the sensations he was drawing out of you. 

“I promise Y/N, you just focus on growing our baby, m’kay?” He grunted as his hand covered your fluttering belly, not yet round or even showing. But knowing it was in there and for once he was going to get to see it all happen stirred something in Curtis. Something he never wanted or cared for before. Flicks of his tongue traced around your nipples, the warmth of his mouth was such a contrast to the coolness in the air, it drew out these soft little gasps that delighted the man. 

Your hips started to rock into his hand while he started to finger you, stroking velvet walls while he lifted his head to watch your reactions. Always so expressive, you fisted your hands in his shirt while your head tilted into the pillows with a soft whimper, knowing that you were close. Curtis was rewarded when your eyes glazed over and warmth flooded his hand while you clamped around him. “Good Girl, don't hold back.” He praised you while tilting down to kiss you slowly, swallowing the aftermath of your orgasm, the tiny whimpers of his name and your pleas for him to finish. 

How badly you wanted him to finish in you now. 

Curtis pulled back to yank his shirt off and shove his pants down enough to release his cock, stroking himself over you. Your eyes lowered to watch him and for the first time ever, you reached to wrap your hand around his length. “Oh shit Y/N.” His voice stuttered when you squeezed slightly. He hunched over you, falling to his elbow while you pressed him between your swollen folds, looking up at him with a bite to your lip. 

“Promise me Curtis.” 

Blue eyes that were once so damn harsh and cold towards you simmered heatedly. You didn't know how you could ever think of them as cold as they sharpened with desire. Curtis pressed his forehead to yours for a moment, whispering. “On my life Y/N.”  

You gave a slight nod at his answer and his mouth pressed against yours as he started to press into you. The stretch had you gasping though, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down to press your mouth back to his, his hands held onto the side of your head as he started rocking his hips, dragging himself in deep to the place only he has ever been. Dragging against your sensitive walls, you wrapped yourself around him while placing kisses against his mouth, gasping whenever he dropped his weight on you and speared back into your heat. 

With everything going on, you let yourself enjoy being with him. The push and pull, the feel of his heavier body pressing yours into the bedding beneath. His heavy length filling you till you were clamping around him to keep him there. 

Your fingers curled into his neck, twisting into the short hairs at the back of his head, and Curtis continued pressing harder grunting kisses against your shoulder, his hands curling around under your arms and grasping your shoulders to hold you close as his hips ground into you, his pelvis pressing against your clit. 

The rush of it all, the feeling of him kissing you so passionately while he kept claiming you to spiral under him was so much. A cold fire in your belly and the flutters in you turned to clamping, trying to hold him to you while you came. 

“That's right sweet girl, just let it happen.” He grunted once more when your body under him locked, twitching as you dug into the back of his neck and your knees gripped his hips to rock with him. His hand loosened on your shoulder and pressed between your bodies, his palm slightly pressing against your stomach to feel how full you were from him and then fell between your bodies to rub your clit to bring you to arousal again. 

“Curtis-” You whined and he nudged your head back, sucking on your neck, pressing faster. 

“One more, that's it. I know it feels good.” He hissed feeling you buck underneath him. “Feel s’good, right?” 

You nodded your head hurriedly while he played you so expertly, all those other times he had grown to learn what made you wither and whine for him, the only man to ever make you feel like this. Which after the stress of the day, you needed to go mindless. “So-so good.” 

Nip of teeth with a touch of his tongue, had you arching, the room filled with the harsh sounds of his body colliding with yours and the squeak of the mattress underneath you. Your toes curled and you sobbed out, dropping your hand to cover your mouth to keep your orgasm from bouncing off the metal walls, but he jerked your hand down, filling your mouth with his tongue. Harsh thrusts turned to grind out his own release, warmth flooding you in an all to familiar pleasure. 

You dug fingers into his shoulders and dragged him over you, quivering underneath him while pressing your face into his chest, willing your heart to start to slow while his rat-a-tat-tat rapidly in his own chest, deep inhales expanding his chest and pushing you into the mattress while he gasped for air. Curtis went to move, but you clutched tighter. “Dont, please not yet.” 

Reaching underneath him, he pushed to an elbow and fisted his hand in your hair gently to pull your head away to look up at him. “I'm not, just be patient Y/N.” 

Curtis eased down enough so he wasn't smothering you, but could lay his head on your chest, his arms looped around your midsection. His hips kept your thighs pinned underneath him and his belly pressed against your waist, keeping you under him. 

“Soon I won't be able to lay like this on you, you know.” He pointed out after a few minutes and you slipped your hand tentative over his scalp and along the back of his neck. Another first he thought to himself while he closed his eyes to enjoy the way you were willingly touching him. 

“I know… I actually never knew I liked the way it felt.” You admitted, having always pulled away from him before after they finished. 

Curtis didn’t either, sex had always been a means to an end, there was no intimacy really in it for him. It was a necessity to survive, so he never allowed himself to enjoy it like this, it was simply good in the moment and when it was over, it was over. It never really occurred to him that it could be this simple moment of bliss. But feeling the softness of your body just cradle him so easily, your warmth envelops him into a lull of relaxation. Well, maybe he could get used to feeling this way. 

Feeling this way with you. 

“Curtis… I have to get up.” You said after a while with what he hoped was regret in your voice. Planting his hands against the mattress, he pulled himself off to lay at the side while you shifted out from under him to sit on the edge of the bed and reach down to grab something to cover yourself with. 

“Why do you do that? Cover yourself?” He asked, while you slipped the shirt over your head so that it pooled down around your thighs. You glanced over your shoulder, where he laid stretched out, comfortable in his own skin. 

“Why wouldn't I? It's not like I'm anything special Curtis. Also it's safer in the tail end to not get noticed.” You said while pulling to a stand and disappearing in the bathroom. Curtis frowned to himself, he could understand not getting noticed, but the other he couldn't agree with. He was still genuinely surprised that you were a virgin when you were brought to him. 

When you came back out, running your hands over your shirt and moving to crawl back in the bed, Curtis reached over and grasped your chin in his forefinger and thumb. “That's not true Y/N.” 

You blinked at him wide eyed, confused in such an innocent way. The corners of his mouth tugged a bit seeing you blink at him owlishly. “What's not true?” You wriggled into the dip in the mattress you had left earlier. 

“You claim you're not anything special. You are beautiful Sweetheart. Especially now that your health is returning. I'm not the only one to notice.” His fingers loosened and trailed along your cheeks that were filling out and were always so warm against his fingertips. 

You huffed a bit and your eyes went downcast while settling back in the bedding. “I don't know if that is a good thing.” You wrinkled your nose and Curtis reached over to let his hand settle on your stomach. 

“You are not going anywhere.”

First Trimester

Changes started so subtly. One morning your stomach turned at the sight of eggs Curtis brought that had you sprinting to the bathroom and over the toilet. You grasped the sides as you gagged over it, and Curtis cussed while placing the tray down, following you in to stand behind you, pulling hair back and rubbing your back. Once you stopped gasping and fell back to sit on your ankles, he let go of you and went to the bathroom sink to fill a cup with some water for you to clear your mouth with. Taking it, you swished some water and spat it out before handing it back to Curtis. “Thank you.” 

“What was it?” He questioned while giving the cup a rinse and reached down to help you to stand. 

“Uhh, the eggs maybe?” You took a deep breath just thinking about it and felt your stomach roll again while moving to the sink and grabbed the tooth brush. 

“Want me to get rid of them?” 

“Can you Curtis?” 

He gave a smile and rubbed your back once before exiting the bathroom, giving you some privacy. Going back out, you saw the offending pile of eggs was gone. Alot of it was trial and error. You soon learned that you had a constant craving for milk as well, which Curtis was sure to start adding to all the meals he brought you. 

You craved back rubs and shoulder rubs, which Curtis was good at you found out. As well as being so tired. All the time. You took several naps throughout the day, which at first you apologized for. Curling up in bed to sit whenever Curtis caught you dozing off. One day with a sketch pad stretched out before him, making lazy swipes with his pencil, he gave a shake of his head. “Sleep. You have to listen to your body and right now you are growing a person, no wonder you are tired.” When you started to protest by throwing the blankets off you, Curtis gave you a hard stare till you sunk back down, blinking back at him. 

“You are being serious.” 

“Aren't I always Y/N? Finish your nap.” He said curtly and went back to his sketch. The sun heated through the glass and the beams fell over you, lulling you back to sleep. When you woke up later, Curtis was gone. But his notepad was left, which when you got up, you leaned over it to see what he had been working on. 

A sketch of you stretched out in bed, your hair falling around your sleeping face. You could tell he had been practicing his shading as he did it from several angles, and one where you had rolled to your hip, sure to focus on your hand pressing against the slight bump you had.

When he came back, Curtis would offer to take you around the train as long as you weren't tired. At first you declined, worried about further run-ins with people like Grey, New Years Eve not far from your mind. But the more times he offered and you grew restless, you took him up on the offer. 

The greenhouse car was one you always looked forward to, the natural lighting in it for the vegetation soaking into your body, the air felt fresh from the plants and you would wander the aisles to attempt to learn from the greenhouse workers what they were growing. Curtis simply watched as you started to get braver, ask questions and help with the weeding, just wanting to feel the dirt. 

One day you two were sitting under the trees, Curtis nodding off in the warmth, and you were reading a new book out loud to him when you eased the book shut. 

“Curtis? I need some water.” You mentioned and his eyes snapped open, pulling himself up to sit. You would have just gone yourself to get it, but you knew he wouldn't allow that. So you stayed there while he pushed to a stand. 

“How about a snack to? You haven't eaten much today and I saw them picking the cherry tomatoes when we first came in.” He inquired. 

Giving a nod, he soon dipped out of the aisle to get what you asked for and you tilted your head back to relax against the tree trunk. But your peaceful moment was short lived. A shadow passed over you and a snickering voice taunted you to spring your eyes open and pull your legs back. “Well well well, Curtis left his little pet to wander around all alone?” Grey moved to a squat in front of you, a few of his friends crowding around behind him, all leering down at you while you tried to shrink away. Your tongue swelled up, unable to speak. When Grey reached a hand out to touch you, you pulled further away. 

“Don’t.” You finally were able to say, causing him to jerk his head back and laugh deeply at your attempt to put space between you two. 

“Oh you shouldn't be scared of me, I was your friend on New Years remember? Curtis is the one who beat you, not me.” 

You folded your arms around your legs to hold yourself away from him, but Grey wasn't allowing you to shrink away too much, his hand moving to touch your knee, grinning at the way you jerked. “Don't touch me.” 

Grey shuffled closer, the men behind him closing in further till the space of the greenhouse seemed to no longer exist. 

“You're like a little unsoiled dove, so innocent in all this. I promise you though once I take you, you won't be able to play this act anymore.” Grey said coldly, his gaze glinting with promise as it raked over your face. He was close enough to feel his hot sour breath washing over your face. 

The tension stretched between you two and you felt like you were going to snap when a low deep voice came from behind. “Step the fuck back from her.” The group parted enough to show Curtis striding closer the handful of cherry tomatoes in his palm crushed to drip the juices and seeds from between his fingers and the tin cup of water sloshing over the edge as he sped up, pushing past the others to grasp the back of Grey's collar and fling him back. Grey easily straightened, pulling an innocent look as Curtis moved to block you from them. You scrambled to get up, using the back of his shirt to pull yourself to a stand and stay behind him. A barrier between you and Grey. 

“I thought I told you not to go near her again?” Curtis’s rage was laced in his tone and Grey shrugged a bit. 

“Just saying hello Curtis, I missed seeing your girl since the party.” You eased around Curtis a bit and Grey caught sight of you, aiming a wink towards you. “Till next time Y/N.” 

You pressed in behind Curtis, your gaze looking down the aisle to see members of the greenhouse take interest. From afar it would appear to be just a passing of words, and the tremors going through Curtis told you how he was holding back from attacking Grey. If he did, it would all seem unprovoked, Curtis words and yours against Grey and his crowd. It wouldn't end good for Curtis. 

Curtis watched long enough to make sure they were out of sight and turned swiftly towards you, wiping his hand against his jacket till the tomato residue was off his palms and touched your face afterwards, tilting you to look up at him. “He didn’t touch you did he?” 

A firm shake no answered him and he offered the mug of water which you tilted back to calm your nerves and moisten your mouth. “No Curtis, not really.” 

“Son of a bitch.” He clenched his hand at his side, looking over his shoulder again and you reached to press your hand to his chest, bringing his focus back on you. 

“Let’s just leave here, please?” Last thing you wanted was Curtis’s anger to sit with him the rest of the day. 

He took a deep breath to let it settle in his chest before turning to you blinking up at him and part of him softened. “Come on… Got somewhere else you might like to see.” Wrapping an arm around you, you followed along with him as you two made your way out of the gardens aisle. Your fingers played at his sleeve nervously as you glanced behind once more, but Grey was nowhere to be seen. The silver train door whooshed and crossed into another threshold. Once it closed behind you, you turned your focus to the area Curtis had taken you. 

It was filled with wild greenery, and the echoes of songbird calls bounced off the towering glass of the train's ceiling. Your lips split into a grin when you stepped from Curtis hold, your gaze lifted to see brilliant colored birds darting around one another. “I remember coming through here when I was brought to the front, what is its purpose?” 

“An aviary, the last birds on earth that we know of.” Curtis informed you, his head tilting back to look up in the treetops crowding against the glass of the train, straining for freedom that would forever be denied them from growing to their full size.

Curtis watched your child like wonder as birds filtered down to land on you, tiny trills and warbles inquiring as they inspected you. You stretched out your arms for other curious birds, hoping down to peck at your palm looking for food. You happened to giggle with the ticklish feeling and to Curtis it was far better then all the songbirds in the aviary. 

You were such a light in Curtis’s life now. These kinds of moments where you seemed to forget that you were held against your will but found a reason to laugh, your eyes bright when they looked at him and you danced into a small circle, the birds lifting off of you in a flurry of cries and wings, so you could come back to him excitedly. Curtis couldn't believe that he once saw you as a job, something he had to tolerate. 

Now he didn't want anyone else sharing his space with him. 

“There were so many Curtis! I didn't know there could be that many on the train…” Your hands fluttered back and forth with your words, rambling about how much you loved the moment, thanking Curtis for bringing you when he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks and his eyes bright while looking at you. It paused you in surprise as his head lowered against yours and pressed his mouth against yours. This was a different kiss then any he's given you before. 

But this was a gentleness that was asking permission, his hold cradling and gentled, slightly rough lips easily pressing against yours and the tip of his tongue just swiping as in a way of saying ‘Please?’ 

Your hands braced against his chest and slid around behind him, allowing him to swipe in and roll his tongue with yours, pulling you in closer to him till your body was flushed with his own, his hold sliding from your cheeks and sliding down your back. When the two of you parted, foreheads leading against one another, panting slightly. 

That kiss simply took the air from your lungs and you could feel it meant something more this time. 

More than being forced together or trying to comfort. This one had something behind it. Part of it scared you that maybe this man meant more to you then he had before. 

Second Trimester

You sat on the edge of the bed, a hand braced against the curve of your stomach, waiting. Curtis was nearby, nose in a book but he noticed that you had moved up to sit. A curious glance looked over the spine of the book. “Whats going on?” He questioned as you sighed a bit, sliding your hand to another spot, scrunching your nose. 

“He was just moving, I swear he was getting ready to kick.” you looked down at your now protruding belly, rolling your shirt up enough to slide your palm against it. “But feels like he has settled down.” Curtis chuckled softly and set the book aside on the table, moving to kneel on the floor before you and ease his hand around the sides, exploring for himself. 

“That's because he's decided to treat his mama well.” 

You snort a bit and roll your eyes. “More like he's saving it for tonight when I'm trying to sleep.” 

Curtis smirked a bit, and rested his hands against your thighs, winking at you. “Well he does take after his dad.” 

You shoved at his shoulder with a scoff, leaving Curtis laughing heartily while falling back to rest on his ankles looking up at you. Moments like these he seemed so boyish, his laugh was genuine and rare. But the longer you two lived together, the more you got to hear it. It was a pleasant sound, one that seemed to make you forget for a moment that you two were stuck together in a glorified prison. “We keep calling him he, do you think he is a he?” 

Curtis shrugged a bit. “Honestly, boy or girl doesn't matter to me. But yea...I think it's a boy. Just feels right when I think of seeing him for the first time.” He admitted admiring the glimpse of skin showing where your shirt had ridden up. 

It was also easier letting him see more of you. It probably helps that during your pregnancy, you had cravings. Serious cravings. 

Which even now started to curl in your lower belly and clench your thighs slightly under his hands that still rested against them. He felt it and arched a curious brow as you shyly looked away as if distracted. But he knew, he shuffled in closer and slid his palms warmly back up to your belly. “You know you just have to ask.” 

Caught. You knew you were caught and you shifted slightly, twisting your fingers together. “I don't wanna ask though. I mean it's not like your job to have to anymore.” 

“Y/N- will you just lay back? You want it and I don't mind giving it.” He instructed, pressing you to lay back on the bed, leaving your legs dangling over the edge of the bed. His hands grasped in the band of your shorts and started to draw them down to leave your lower half naked and you folded your hands together to rest on your stomach, looking down your body to watch Curtis. 

“You may not mind, but I still don't want you to feel like you gotta.” You rambled on as he brushed his chin against the top of your thighs to nudge them apart and drew one leg up over his shoulder, brushing a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Your damn kid is making me horny, but I have other ways to handle it whenever-” 

Curtis rolled his eyes in amusement to your rambling. Honestly he would be happy taking care of you like this, seeing you pregnant was driving him crazy with want. Knowing he made you need him so much, be able to take care of you and see you satisfied in his bed. Right now nothing was better than seeing you post orgasm bliss. You were still going on above him, but he stopped listening, his goal now to make you forget about feeling guilty for wanting him. Flushing kisses up your thigh and he brought the other one over his shoulder, he heard his name while he dragged the tip of his nose through your curls and to your folds that were starting to glisten with arousal. 

“Are you listening, Curtis?” you voiced above him and he snickered a bit while spreading your folds apart and lapping along your quivering cunt, hearing your question turn into a gentle moan. 

“I was, but now I'm not Darling, because honestly eating you out is my main priority right now.” He lapped again, sucking on your outer folds and was rewarded with another gasp above him and your hand falling to his head, curling your fingers against his scalp. 

“Do that again?” You breathed out and you felt his tongue curl through you once more, just making you pulse and arousal seep from you that he was quick to collect with a growl as he sucked on you. You let your eyes close and mind clear to just the sensations he was creating in you. His fingers massaged the tense muscles inside your thighs as he looped his arms over the top of your thighs and spread them just a bit wider, burying his face in between your legs. He found your clit and proceeded to tease it in just that way that had you arching your hips for him and whimpering into your shoulder till you couldn't keep quiet anymore. 

“Oh god Curtis… Curtis…” You started chanting his name while he played with you, continued pressing his tongue in all those places that made your core clench and thighs quiver and strain in his hold trying to clasp around his ears. 

“Just let it happen Y/N, why are you holding back?” He teased you, the graze of his cheeks scratching along the inside of your thighs that he released so they clasped around his head and your hands started to press his face into your center. He plunged his tongue into you, teasing your fluttering walls till they were driving you blissed out, rocking into his face till you finally did as he said, letting go and letting your orgasm wash over you till you were floating happily in pleasure, a sigh escaping you as your toes curled into his shoulders then they collapsed over his back, humming out your bliss. 

Curtis rolled his shoulders to let your legs fall off, one last lap through your core and a kiss to the top of your mound before he sat back and massaged your thighs till the tension seeped through them. Planting his hands on the mattress to pull to a stand, looming over you as he pushed your shirt up to kiss the curve of your belly. 

“Better?” He asked as he fell to the other side of the bed, his hand massaging your hip, the other hand running through his beard and you slid an eye open to see him watching you for an answer. 

“Thank you, he's settled down.” Your hand slid over your curve and he mimicked your touch, feeling for himself. 

“Perhaps he decided taking a nap was better than being aware of his parents intimate time.” He teased and you covered your face in embarrassment, sighing. 

“You are terrible Curtis.” 

He snorted with a grin while pushing up to a stand. “That I am. Alright, time for me to go to the gym. Do you need anything before I go Y/N?” 

You shook your head while pushing up to a stand yourself and brushing past Curtis to reach into the little fridge to grab an apple. “Nah, I'm good. Afterwards do you think we could go walking somewhere? My back has been killing me and the baths are not helping so much anymore. Walking around seems to help though.” 

He gathered what he needed while nodding. “Sure, we will do that when I get back.” Curtis promised before heading out, and you plopped down in the seat he occupied earlier, easing back a bit and picking up the book he had been engrossed with earlier, looking to see where he was. Taking bites of the apple, you suddenly felt the baby start to wriggle again, and this time he gave the kicks you were expecting earlier. 

“Oh now you wanna be a wriggler. Apparently your father was wrong, you have been awake.” You chuckled a bit while settling back. 

A whoosh of doors announced Wilford as he stepped into the enclosed space off the engine. Humming to himself as his eyes glanced over the screens to different sections of the train. Everyone was right where they needed to be, his eyes glinted gleefully appreciating the order of Snowpiercer. Everything so wonderfully balanced, just as it always has been. He was there god, giving them life. Each one he looked at was absolutely perfect, all constructed by him. Wilford viewed them as stories, each one he could maneuver in the way he wanted. Settling down in his seat, he twisted his chair towards his prize tv screen, the biggest and clearest one. 

On the screen was a black and white version of Curtis’s room. So far Wilford had let you and Curtis have moments of domesticity. Let you two get comfortable, sure that your lives were going to continue being peaceful.

Wilford grinned coldly while leaning forward to trace a finger over your form sitting in the chair, singing to your belly. 

“That's right Dear�� you keep on taking care of my baby so sweetly. You will be the perfect mother to my son.”

[mitsungo]

　∧＿∧

（｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*。

⊂　　 ノ 　　　・゜+.

しーＪ　　　°。+ *´¨)

　　.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)

(¸.·´ (¸.·’* ✫⌒*･ﾟ

　　

　　I didn’t expect the second part to become more popular! It honestly shocked me! I kinda have an idea of where I’ll be going with the ending—kinda don’t. Idk. We’ll just wait and see how this progresses! Also just go with the flow on this please 😵‍💫

　　✧༺🔥༻∞　🌸　∞༺❄️༻✧

Kyojuro had never wished for nothing more than to live a peaceful life with Y/n after retiring from the demon slayer corps. She was a wonderful person, ever since he had met her, he had known that she would be the girl he would one day call his wife, and she would call him her husband. He and his fellow hashira, named Uzui, would talk about marriage and occasionally talk about children and retiring. Though Uzui would get carried away when it came to the children part, adding more to the conversation about making the children and not imagining how the children would be like. When Uzui talked about that topic, Kyojuro would get startled and start sweating, before he would change the topic as fast as he could. But heaven knows that Uzui would pick up the idea that Kyojuro was still, pure, as Uzui would put it. So what if he was? He and his fiancée agreed that they would consummate their marriage duties once they got married. But then again, Uzui would tell him about how wonderful it felt to, be intimate with a partner.

“Y/n, may I ask you something?” Kyojuro asked, his eyebrows furrowing a bit, to show off that he was going to be serious in the conversation. “Of course Kyo, what is it that you wish to know?” Y/n replied gently, her eyes now fixated on his own. “Have you ever thought of, being intimate…on another level?” Kyojuro felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the question he had just asked his fiancée. Y/n abruptly stopped sewing, she didn’t move for a good minute, before she put the needle and kimono down on her lap. “Well, if I am completely honest. I don’t really know what you mean by that dear. What do you mean, ‘on another level’? Are you trying to say…” she paused, her cheeks turning bright red as she realized what he meant. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by asking you that. But I just, wanted to know. You know? I mean, the farthest we’ve gone to is kissing and occasionally leaving small marks on one another.” Kyojuro said, he really hoped he hadn’t made y/n’s opinion change on him. What if she thought he was a pervert now. How embarrassing. As he was lost in thought, y/n burst into laughter, starling Kyojuro in the process. “You could have just asked me if you wanted to make love Kyo. No need to be shy with me! We’ve known each other since we were children darling!” She let another fit of giggles escape her mouth as she desperately tried to cover it with a hand over her mouth. How cute. “Guess you’re right! I’ll try to be more straightforward next time!” He shot her a bright smile, causing y/n to stop giggling and stare at him in awe. Kyojuro made his way over to y/n, kneeling down in front of her and taking out a small picture of her and him together in kimonos she had made for them. “Always and forever, my beautiful wife.” He felt y/n gently put the picture back into his pocket, her fingers entangling with his own. “Always and forever, my handsome husband.” Kyojuro looked into his future wife’s eyes, those beautiful shining orbs of life and color. She leaned in closer to his face, her lips touching his. “Let’s get married here now then. And we can consummate the marriage before you depart tomorrow for that mission of yours.” Kyojuro closed his eyes, placing his forehead onto her own, smiling gently at her, “Very well. I will marry you here. And you will marry me here. Together, we will bring our two families and more importantly our souls together.” She nodded, smiling back at him with a warm smile like the sun. They both leaned in, closing the gap between them. Just how lucky was he to have such an amazing woman in his life? He would never know.

Now looking at the situation he was in, with upper rank 3’s arm piercing through his stomach, he wished he had married y/n sooner. They had only spent two months secretly married together, he was hoping to be spending his entire lifetime with her. He couldn’t give up now, not without a fight, not until he cut this demon’s head off. Kyojuro knew y/n would want him to fulfill his mission, just as his mother would too. He had to do it now. “I WON’T LET YOU ESCAPE! NOT UNTIL I CUT THAT HEAD OF YOURS!” He yelled at the demon, who had began to panic due to the sun rising. “LET GO! I SAID LET GO!” Akaza screamed, but to no avail. Kyojuro could feel his body start to succumb to his wound, no, he had to continue fighting. His mind started to get a bit fuzzy his vision on his right eye following right behind. Kyojuro felt Akaza rip himself away from his grasp, so this was it. The fight was over. He could finally rest. He had also lost the picture he always kept near his heart of him and y/n, how much he wanted to cry from not being able to see her face one more time.

“You will, live on without me. I will see you again.”

The day after Kyojuro’s funeral, she locked herself up in her room, ignoring her aunt and uncle’s plea for her to come out and eat or be in the garden. How could she eat or do anything when the man she loved had just died? Y/n undid her hair, throwing the pin away in a corner of her room. The sound of it hitting the wall harshly, she didn’t pay no attention to it, nothing mattered anymore. Nor she, or anyone. Her eyes started to tear up again, she looked up and saw one of the unfinished kimono’s in her room. Y/n grit her teeth in anger, yanking the kimono from the rack, grabbing a pair of scissors and tearing it apart. The one beautiful piece of fabric was now a torn up piece of cloth. She fell to her knees, her head starting to hurt from the anger and grief.

“Kyojuro! Why did you leave me all alone? Now who will be my other half if not you? Gods, what have I done to anger you enough to take away my husband from me? Please, take care of him for me until I go with him and my parents. Who am I to judge you for your decisions? Even then, I can not live without Kyojuro!” She proclaimed to no one, her hands gripping tightly on the kimono she had just shred into pieces. Why was this world so cruel to her? To everybody? She knew others had gone through much worse, and only now did she understand those who have lost their entire families, friends, and even themselves. How tragic. Her uncle and aunt were shocked when she had come down later in the night to the garden. Y/n looked up at them, her hair a mess, eyes red and a shredded kimono in hand.

“I renounce my title as a seamstress.”

A whole month has passed since Akaza had met Y/n. The two have gotten closer to one another, almost as if they were best friends. He had just arrived for the night at her home, the scent of her perfume in the room.

“Oh, Akaza. You’re here. Please. Take a seat.” Y/n said, gesturing for him to sit down in his designated spot. As he walked over to the small tea table, his eyes caught a certain picture frame that was placed in between a small shrine. Akaza picked up the frame, glancing behind his back to make sure y/n was not there, he studied the picture, it was Y/n and Kyojuro. Both of them smiling softly with their hands intertwined. It made him a bit jealous seeing kyojuro there with her, he didn’t deserve a woman like y/n. “So, are you going to teach me how to sew details into a kimono today or are you just—.” He stopped mid sentence, his mouth covered by y/n’s hands. She leaned into his ear and said, “I know you were the one that murdered Kyojuro.” He felt his eyes widen. “But don’t worry, I do not hate you. Humans and demons are sworn enemies. One may say that you are evil, doing unspeakable things to mankind, but even so, you are still a living creature, as I know you do not age, and you can be killed. Any living thing can be killed, though your morals are different than ours, I understand. What you think you do is righteous , and what the demon slayers think they do is righteous, it will in the end be the same. Killing one another because of different perspectives.” Y/n pulled her hands off his mouth, and backing away slowly. Akaza turned to face her, his face written with confusion and thoughtfulness. “You truly are an odd woman.” Was all he said in response. “They say the best people are a bit odd.” She giggled, taking his hand into her own. “Come now, let me show you how I do these details.”

The wind had began to pick up more now. With the petals of fallen wisteria flowers being taken away by the air and into the unknown. Akaza had just had a hard night, first he was summoned to an upper moon meeting, it seemed that an upper moon had died and their master was not happy at all, then that idiot with the blood stained hair had to go and bother him. How irritating, if only he could beat that parasite. But at least he would be going to go visit y/n today, since he didn’t have much do to. Akaza arrived in a matter of time, he poked his head into her room, his eyebrows furrowed when he noticed y/n’s scent was different today, sickly almost. He began to panic.

“Y/n? Where are you?” He took another look around the room and ran towards the end of the hall. “I’m downstairs, in the study room.” Akaza heard her say, he quickly made his way down to the room she said she was in. He slid open the door and saw y/n sitting down with her hand over her stomach. “Akaza, I found out, today, that I am pregnant.” His jaw dropped at the news, what the actual fuck? “How are you pregnant? I mean, is that even possible? Who’s baby is it? Have you been seeing men behind my back?” He started asking her, though he knew that couldn’t be the answer, as he would have smelt the scent of another man sooner. “I’ve only ever slept with you and kyojuro. This is very hard for me to even understand.” Akaza frowned when he realized that the baby growing inside had to be Kyojuro’s, it irritated him, now this day has truly become the worst one. As he was lost in thought, he snapped back to reality when he felt y/n’s soft hand tightly grip his. “I do not know why, but I have a feeling that there are two babies in me. And you are the father of one of them. You don’t need to stay by my side anymore. I understand. I wouldn’t stay either.” She happily said. Akaza’s eyes widened at her words, could that be a possibility, and would he actually want to keep staying here with her? Perhaps it was, or not. Only time will tell. As for staying with her, he didn’t know how to feel anymore. Y/n looked at him, her gaze slowly breaking away from his own, as if she was getting the aura that he wasn’t so sure anymore about anything. Y/n felt a smile creep up on her face, she pulled her hand away from his and slowly got up. But Akaza quickly yanked her back and embraced her, not too tightly, as he was worried he would hurt her and the babies. Akaza closed his eyes as he felt her arms wrap around him. This was a familiar feeling. He opened his mouth to finally give a response,

“I will stay with you no matter what.”

[missymurphy1985]

The Groupie (part three)

Cillian has just turned 30, and has no children. Reader is a fan, has been since day one and is a plus size girl. I myself am a UK size 16, so I hope I don't offend anyone with my story (I'm writing about my own insecurities a little here so be kind please).

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06

A year had passed since that night. A year of you going through some serious soul searching. You'd become comfortable with yourself - to the point you were genuinely happy with your mind and your body, curves and all. You'd even been on dates - it surprised you when the men you'd been out with confessed they actually preferred a girl with a figure like yours.

You'd even began a university course in London, studying for a PhD in Psychology and Mental Health. You'd been to hell and back in your own kind, and made it through the other side. Now you wanted to help others achieve the same.

To help fun your course, you'd taken on work at a live jazz bar in Camden Town in the evenings and weekends. The music was always incredible, and you were allowed to wear 50s style dresses that accentuated your curves perfectly. Along with a slick new bobbed haircut and your favourite red lipstick, you relished in your new found life and emotional freedom. You had a new group of friends that you shared a flat with in Kilburn, and the regulars in the bar treated you like family. Life was perfect, a far cry from where you were just 12 months earlier. You'd also stayed off social media - and stopped following the career of the man that broke your heart.

It was one Saturday night, when your shift had not long started, when you were suddenly catapulted straight back to that morning.

"What can I get you?" You asked over the dimly lit bar. The man turned quickly without looking at you and ordered a Guinness. You froze. That voice... You'd know it anywhere... You swallowed the lump in your throat and poured his drink, carefully so as not to spill any. Praying to all that was holy that he wouldn't recognise you..

You placed it on the bar, holding a hand out as he placed a crisp £5 note in your hand, still not turning round. You handed him his change, which is when his eyes finally met yours. He did a quick double take, and you were just as quick to move onto the next customer.

You felt his eyes on you all evening and couldn't help but smile to yourself. Not that you'd ever show him that. You'd served him a couple of times through the course of the evening and was proud of yourself for not acknowledging him once.

Your shift came to an end around 10pm, and your flatmates soon joined you at the bar for a few drinks. Your best friend and flatmate Ella was due onstage any second, and as much as part of you wanted to crawl under the crowd and hide at home you couldn't miss her debut performance.

She came onstage a few minutes after you left your post behind the bar and sank into your seat in a booth with the rest of the Flat 76 crew. Your mojito in hand, you cheered with the rest of them as hour friend took to the mic and started to sing an Amy Winehouse classic.

"Y/n?" You turned at the sound of your name, and froze when those ice blue eyes made contact with yours. You ignored him, and turned your attention back to the stage. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you continued to ignore him.

"Y/n... I think Cillian Murphy is talking to you...." Your friend Stacey nudged you.

"Don't be ridiculous, Stace, he's clearly mixed me up with someone else."

"Y/n, for the love of God will you talk to me?!" His voice was louder now as he shouted across the table. Your friends looked between the two of you, stunned. You turned to face him and fought against your heart to stop yourself from bursting into tears. You stood up and walked over to him.

"I have absolutely nothing to say to you. Now leave me alone." You turned to walk away but he grabbed your wrist. Wrenching your hand back, your other hand quickly moved, slapping his cheek. A years worth of pent up anger and frustration buried deep in your damp eyes as he staggered backwards into a tall table, fortunately no one was sat on it and after a quick glance around it appeared no one had noticed either. Your friends on the other hand, saw everything and their faces wore matching open-mouthed expressions.

"What the fuck?!" He yelled, rubbing his cheek and grabbing your elbow, dragging you over to the restroom hallway. Once you were alone your emotions got the better of you.

"What's the matter? A hundred Euro not enough? Come back to see if you can double your money huh?!" You yelled at him, his face a picture of both anger and confusion.

"The fuck are you talking about? A hundred what?"

"Neve told me about your little wager Cillian - I hope you spent the money well! Tell me, what did you buy with it? New shoes? Fancy new shirt?"

"Wager? Neve? The fuck?"

"I'm not stupid Cillian - there's no way you'd be seen out in public with someone like me and that's okay!! I've come to terms with it, and I'm fine! I'm happier now than I've ever fucking been and NONE of it is down to you!!!"

"Will you stop fucking talking, and listen to me!!!" His voice loud, the Cork accent breaking through and stopping you in your tracks.

"Neve was trying to get with me from the first day of that production. Flirty comments, making excuses to be near me, it was fucking horrendous! I knew she wasn't interested in me, just wanted to boost her fucking career. I made it clear I wasn't interested immediately but she wasn't getting the message. Seeing me with you sent her fucking crazy! I never ONCE made any kind of wager about you or anyone else! I barely spoke to her by the end of the show run unless I absolutely had to!"

"You would say that wouldn't you? Irresistible Cillian Murphy, woman falling at your feet!"

"For fucks sake... You followed me for ten years. Ten years! Ever known me fuck around?"

"No..."

"One night stands?"

You shook your head.

"Scandals?"

"Well no... But..."

"But nothing!!! I'm not, nor have I ever been, THAT guy!"

You looked into his eyes.. he looked genuine. But you couldn't let yourself go back to that person you were before. That girl was weak. That girl was naive and stupid. You straightened your back and mentally reminded yourself of how far you'd come.

"What do you want from me Cillian?"

"Just you. It's always been you, y/n."

"Bullshit..." You scoffed, shaking your head.

"What do I need to do to prove it to you?"

"I can't answer that Cillian. I don't know."

"Come back to mine? We can talk properly?" You pulled back, almost laughing and shaking your head, immediately questioning his intentions.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm going back to my friends and watching the rest of the show. I never want to see you again." You turned on your heels and walked back into the bar area, rejoining your friends at the table who were all staring at you. Full of questions that you'd never give the answers to. You didn't look back at him once.

All that talk, and all he was interested in was getting you back to his to use you all over again?

Not this time Cillian, not this time.

[wondernimbus]

no time to die — tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x female!reader

prompt: "i'd fallen for a lie, you were never on my side."

a/n: this was inspired by the song no time to die by billie eilish so i highly highly recommend listening to that while reading! the prompt/lyric itself isn’t in the actual text but it was based off of it eeee anyways enjoy

It should never have come to this.

She’d warned him, time and time again, that if he didn't stop, she would have to interfere. Whether he liked it or not.

He never listened, of course. He’d said the same thing he always did: that everything he was doing was leading to something much, much bigger than she would ever be able to imagine. Never quite specifying what it was, exactly, but [Y/N] wasn't dumb—she knew Tom wasn't up to any good.

It was during his fifth year that she first tried to confront him about it, only to no avail. Tom had told her not to worry, putting on that same facade of complete composure that he'd used to fool so many others into believing that he was nothing but the picture-perfect student he made himself out to be. [Y/N] saw right through it, as she'd done so many times before.

They’d first met when they were eleven and grew closer ever since. Tom, she supposed, knew right off the bat that he wasn't fooling her; it was clear in the way she looked at him, so full of doubt and suspicion, that she wasn't easily fooled, young as she was. It should have made him want to avoid her, but instead he only grew curious, and before he knew it they'd become something akin to friends, growing more and more intimate with the passing of time even though neither of them ever quite addressed it.

The two of them cared for each other, that much was certain. She wasn't sure how deeply Tom cared for her, but she knew that she would do anything for Tom. Or at least whatever she thought was best for him.

And maybe it was for that reason that [Y/N] found herself outside of Dumbledore’s study, hand hovering in mid-air mere centimetres from the wooden door as she took in a shaky breath, wondering if this was the right thing to do.

She knew Tom better than she knew anyone else, and she knew that he was getting worse, growing more distant with each passing day. She was losing him to.. whatever his plans were. He was beginning to spend more time with his so-called group of admirers (although [Y/N] knew that the term "followers" was more appropriate). What little glimmer of sanity in his eyes that always used to show only whenever he was around her was slowly starting to dim.

She wasn't just losing him; he was losing himself, too, bit by bit. And she knew she had to do something about it.

So she knocked on the door.

"Come in!" came Dumbledore’s voice.

[Y/N] took in another deep breath, furled and unfurled her fingers, swallowed, and then she twisted the knob and pushed open the door.

She’d only been to Dumbledore’s study once before, to ask him a question about homework. Such drastically different circumstances she found herself in now.

"Good evening, professor,” she said, meeting the old man's gaze from where he sat behind his desk. There was an open book in front of him—when was there not?—and what looked like a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans clutched in his hands.

"Ah, Miss [Y/L/N]," beamed Dumbledore as he held out his box of treats. "Would you like to have some?"

Rather used to Dumbledore’s peculiar friendliness, she forced a smile and shook her head. "No, thank you."

"I imagine you don't make it a habit to visit your professors as a means of enjoyment," said Dumbledore, wizened old eyes twinkling as he set down the box on his desk in favor of clasping his hands together and setting them over his book. "So what, might I ask, brings you here? Oh, and please—sit." He gestured to the plush chair across from him.

[Y/N]'s movements were hesitant as she made her way to the chair and took a seat; something that didn't go unnoticed by Dumbledore, judging from the sudden somberness that crossed his face. It was clear that she wasn't here to ask about homework, much less share a box of jellybeans.

"Is everything alright?" Dumbledore frowned.

[Y/N] looked down at her lap. She couldn't stop fidgeting.

Tom was going to suffer for this. She didn't know how, but she knew he would. But she had warned him, hadn't she? She’d told him that if he didn't stop whatever it was that he was up to, she would put a stop to it—and this was better for him, wasn't it?

She knew what Tom was capable of. To anyone else he may have looked like nothing but the perfect model student, but [Y/N] knew him. He had a certain kind of coldness about him. The dangerous kind; the one that suggested he was capable of doing terrible, terrible things.

That, coupled with the nights he spent somehow sneaking out of the castle, only to come back in the early morning with a disturbingly triumphant gleam in his eyes.. the countless reports of dead Muggles in the surrounding villages.. the young followers he'd already amassed, some greedy for glory, others hungry for cruelty, some weak and seeking protection.. his seemingly harmless talks of immortality..

And the constant talk of a plan that would bring about some sort of change in the wizarding world. Somehow [Y/N] knew that whatever this change was, it wasn't going to be a happy one.

"Tom," she breathed out, deciding to cut straight to the point as she looked up to meet Dumbledore’s gaze. "Tom Riddle. I’m sure you know him."

A brief look of realization flashed in the old man’s eyes. Shifting in his seat, he looked down at his book momentarily as though pondering over something, and then back up at [Y/N], gaze now completely serious. “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Of course.”

”And I know that you have your doubts about him.”

A beat of silence. And then he nodded. “I do, Miss [Y/L/N].”

”He’s planning something,” she said, oddly breathless. “I don’t know what, but he’s.. he’s up to something.”

A ghost of a slight smile appeared on Dumbledore’s face. “That much I have figured out as well.”

[Y/N] swallowed. “I think he’s trying to make a Horcrux.”

A tense silence followed her words.

The weight of what she said hung heavy in the air as though a dark cloud had settled over the room. For a few seconds all Dumbledore did was peer at her through his half-moon spectacles, brows creased just the slightest bit, and then, after what seemed like an awfully long time, he let out a long, low breath and nodded.

"I wish I could be more surprised," sighed Dumbledore. "But I'm afraid I've long since had my suspicions about Mr. Riddle, and I don't doubt your words, even though part of me wishes they were untrue."

"He mentioned the word Horcrux to me once, in passing," began [Y/N], relieved at how easily he trusted her. She'd always known Dumbledore was wiser; while the other professors had fallen for Tom's spell, he had not. "Something about having found an answer to his problems—the answer being Horcruxes. something about a soul in exchange." [Y/N] paused, fists clenching in her lap. "I decided to look into it. It took me a while—none of the books in the library here hold too much information about it, but I looked through my family's library when I came home during the winter break. I found out what the word meant.. how to make it."

"And you believe Tom might be interested in—"

"In making a Horcrux, yes." Her tone of voice held a sense of urgency; she'd leaned forward unconsciously in her seat. "I know it sounds mad, but professor, I know Tom. I know what he's capable of. And I—" she inhaled, as though bracing herself for her next words, "I believe he'd be willing to kill for the sake of immortality. Saying it out loud sounds ridiculous, but Tom is hungry for power. I don't know what kind exactly, but I've known him for a long time and I'm sure I'm not just imagining it. He even has followers of his own—he calls them friends, of course, for the sake of normalcy, but they're more his subjects than anything else. He's up to something."

She was betraying Tom, she knew. She was the only person he truly trusted; it was clear just by the way he looked at her, the way he treated her like she was royalty. And [Y/N] felt just as deeply for him as he did for her.

[Y/N] loved Tom; it was why she was doing this. And if he loved her, he would understand.

There was a beat of silence as she recalled what Tom had told her, not so long ago. "Something big," she echoed, holding Dumbledore’s gaze. "Something much bigger than neither I nor you would ever be able to imagine."

—

The world seemed to be ridiculing her.

Two days after her conversation with Dumbledore, Tom took her to the Astronomy tower and confessed that he did, indeed, care for her. And not like a friend would care for another, nor the way a brother would care for his sister—no, he loved her like a man would love another woman.

Tom loved her.

But that wasn’t all he confessed. Finally, he told her of his plans to seek immortality, and along with it, power; how, in the future, he planned to purge the world of non-magical blood. He told her that his plan was already in motion.

This boy standing in front of her, only sixteen—had he murdered someone already?

The mysterious deaths in the Muggle villages surrounding the castle.. [Y/N] had her suspicions, but she’d hoped that it wasn’t him.

”We will rule the wizarding world together,” Tom told her, hands holding the sides of her face, pulling her close. “Bit by bit, we will gain power together. You will be at my side as I become the most powerful wizard of all time—and I will protect you with that power. I will make sure that no man will ever be able to touch you—“

”Tom.”

”I have never known love like the one you’ve taught me to feel,” he exhaled. “And I intend to keep it. To keep you.”

She closed her eyes, ignoring the tears burning behind them as she reached up, gently prying his hands away from her neck. “Tom, listen to me.”

He tried to hold her gaze even as she looked away; her hands gripped his own weakly. “What you’re talking about,” she began softly, “It’s.. I’m sorry, Tom, but it’s madness.”

He stared at her. “Madness.”

This time her grip on his hands did falter. Her arms dropped down to her sides as she turned to instead hold onto the railing, needing something to hang onto. “Tearing your soul apart? For immortality?” she shook her head, pained. “You can’t possibly expect me to stand by your side while you do.. Merlin knows what.”

Tom was silent, but the loving look in his eyes had died out. They were cold again. A little stunned.

“I love you,” she whispered, looking down at her hands, which clutched the metal railing as though it were a lifeline. “Just as much as you love me, Tom, I can assure you of that. But I can’t be with someone who—“

”Someone evil,” Tom cut her off. His tone was bitter. “Is that what you think I am?”

Isn’t that what you are? she wanted to say. Asking me to help you tear your own soul apart and stand by as you murder innocent people?

She swallowed, hung her head, eyes squeezed shut. “Please leave,” she said quietly. “I need some time to think.”

A few seconds passed by in complete silence. She could still feel his presence behind her—could feel the frustration radiating off of him.

“Please leave, Tom,” she repeated, ignoring the shakiness in her own voice. And then, louder: “Leave.”

She listened to his footsteps as he left the tower. And once they faded away, it was only then that she sank to her knees and started crying.

—

[Y/N] loved Tom, and it was for that reason that she found herself inside Dumbledore’s office that very same night, retelling each and every detail of Tom’s plans to the wizened old man, her voice oddly numb and devoid of any emotion.

No fear. No anxiety. Not even pain, as she stood before Dumbledore, betraying the boy she loved and yet could never have. Not with what he wanted to do.

”Thank you,” Dumbledore said once she was finished. Her jaw was clenched as she nodded, swallowed, and then—

What now?

She would go back to the Slytherin common room and face Tom again. What would she do? Take him into her arms and pretend as though all he’d confessed to her hours earlier was that he loved her, and not his horrible plans? Or would she ignore the ache in her chest and pretend as though all their six years of friendship were nonexistent?

Could she? Was her heart capable of that?

As though Dumbledore had read her mind, he said, “Miss [Y/L/N], I’m going to have to ask you to look for another sliver of bravery within you. You must continue to gain information from Tom.”

At this, [Y/N] looked up, the first few traces of real emotion flickering in her eyes for the first time since she arrived.

“Learn his secrets. His plans. Find out what horrid things he has already done and what he will do.”

[Y/N] opened her mouth. No words came out.

“I understand that it would be difficult,” said Dumbledore, tone gentle and yet at the same time authoritative; it wasn’t a request. “But as far as I am aware, you are the closest thing Tom has to a friend. It seems he trusts you.”

”And you want me to keep betraying him.”

There was an almost amused lilt to Dumbledore’s tone. “Were you planning on stopping after this, Miss [Y/L/N]?” he asked, brows furrowed in curiosity. “Did you honestly plan on walking out of this room and turning a blind eye to your friend’s dangerous schemes? I believe you and I reached an understanding the moment you asked for my help a mere few days ago: we will stop Tom Riddle, no matter what the cost. No matter if it risks your friendship with him.”

It risked everything she ever had with him. Everything she would ever have.

And yet.

And yet she loved him, and it was for that reason that she nodded and muttered, “I'll.. I’ll do what’s necessary.”

Meaning, she would betray him.

The first time she’d gone into Dumbledore’s office, she was determined. Nervous, yes, but she’d known what she had to do. But now, knowing that Tom loved her, that he trusted her enough to tell her of every single one of his plans—it changed a lot of things. Made her feel ten times more guilty than she already did.

But she had no choice. She had to stop him. She knew he wouldn’t even if she asked him to—the mere idea of it was unrealistic—so she had to find another way.

She had to trick him. To betray him.

If Tom truly loved her, he would understand.

[Y/N] hoped he would.

—

It took days before they spoke again.

[Y/N] had wanted to put off her task for as long as she could, but before she knew it, Tom was approaching her again.

It seemed he couldn’t last very long without her.

It was nighttime. She was alone—the rest of the students were at the Great Hall, eating dinner—so she had the Hogwarts courtyard all to herself.

Until someone yanked her by the shoulder, pulled her into them, and kissed her.

There was a brief moment of surprise in which she tried to push him away roughly, but then, wide-eyed and bewildered, she got a good look at him.

“Tom,” she gasped, but he kept his lips on hers, one hand on her waist and the other clutching the side of her face. The way he kissed her was almost feverish—desperate—as though he'd been longing to have this for a long time and wanted as much of it as possible now that he had it.

She thought of protesting, of pushing him away roughly and storming away, but instead she found herself relaxing into him; there was a part of her, she realized, that wanted—no, needed this as much as Tom did. So she kissed back, fingers pressing into his upper arm as she kissed him with just as much passion as he was offering her.

Warning signs flashed inside her head. Could she really do this? Pretend like nothing was wrong?

And then a thought came to her. A disturbing one, really—one that had what felt like guilt pricking at her chest as she molded her lips against Tom's own: this could work.

This was exactly what she needed to do. Pretend as though nothing was wrong, stay at Tom's side like this, grow closer to him, find out his secrets and his plans, like Dumbledore said—and then.

And then she would bring him down, in the end.

So she kissed him. Kissed him until she lost track of time; until the passion in her died out and was only replaced by a feeling of numbness, knowing fully well that the reason she was kissing him was no longer because of how much she wanted to, but because she had to gain his trust. When Tom pulled away, finally, lips swollen and eyes like dark pools of water, he leaned his forehead on hers and whispered, "I love you."

A chill ran down her spine. She swallowed and closed her eyes. It was easier not to look at him.

[Y/N] tightened her hold on Tom's arm and choked out four words that she meant fully well, and yet felt so horribly guilty for saying.

"I love you too," she told him, and hoped that he didn’t hear the trembling in her voice.

[hellotherekenobi]

───there’s a reason.

summary: you think you might have feelings for your master, but you can’t be sure unless you do something about it, which happens to be having a long conversation with him.

cw: padawan!reader, master kenobi. i can neither confirm nor deny whether feelings are reciprocated (or understood.)

requested by: @the-devils-littlegirl

ONESHOT. ⟶ 2,145 WORDS.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Having a close connection with your master came in handy, helping you out on more than the one occasion when you’d be on the ropes in a tight mission, but feeling close to your master was more tricky than any mission you have ever been on. It was forbidden and, quite frankly, dangerous. You couldn’t even imagine being caught out for it, or even worse being called out. Imagine that, getting fired from the Jedi because of how you feel for someone. No, it was better to not give in and to not say a word. Maybe the feeling will fade away in time? Or just maybe, you’ll start to lose your mind from keeping it all bottled up.

“So there’s this guy,” you say casually to someone you randomly met at Rex’s diner. “I really like him. He’s always there to protect me, you know? But it’s complicated.”

“What’s more complicated than having a crush on someone and not telling them?” they ask, sipping from their coffee. They looked groggy, like they had just woken up or were trying to recover from a hangover.

“Age, duty, the fact that he probably doesn’t even like me beyond our partnership.”

“Who cares about duty? I’ve always gone with my gut about these things and I’ve been just fine. Look—” they hold their hand up to show you a wedding band on their finger—“Eight years.”

“That’s a long time, good for you both.”

“Ah hell, we’ve been divorced more times than I can count, but we always find our way back to each other. It’s the love that matters.”

Suddenly you feel as if you shouldn’t be getting relationship advice from a total stranger, but before you can make a move to get off of your chair, a hand plants down on your shoulder and you don’t even have to turn around to know that it’s your master.

“I’ve got what we came here for. You ready to leave?” He asks, smiling politely at the person sitting beside you.

They suddenly look very awake, their eyes wide before they cough out, “You’re a Jedi?”

“Padawan.” You correct, almost wincing at saying it out loud.

“But I doubt you have much more training left.” Obi-Wan smiles.

When he turns his head to wave at Rex behind the counter, the person points at him and mouths, “he’s the guy?” to you, causing you to awkwardly shrug your shoulders and whisper, “yes?”

They groan, “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan says, turning back into the conversation. He thinks they were speaking to him. “We should get going.”

You nod your head, slipping off of the chair and following Obi-Wan out of the diner and back to the speeder parked around the corner. As soon as you hop into the passenger’s side, Obi-Wan lets out a sigh mixed with a groan that you know all too well by now.

“I know that grumble,” you almost chuckle. “What’s wrong?”

Obi-Wan sighs as he settles himself into the driver’s seat. “The information I got wasn’t exactly the information I was hoping for. Looks like we’re headed out to a no-fly zone.”

“No,” you groan. “You don’t mean we have to do this all on foot, do you?”

“My young padawan, our missions are never easy.” he starts the engine up, passing you a small device. “This is the map. Do make sure to tell me which turn to take in advance.”

“That was one time, master.”

He chuckles, turning out into the traffic and flying as far as he can with your aid, before having to park between a thicket of bushes in what looks to be the middle of nowhere. You hop out one at a time, glancing over the area, hands on hips, eyes squinting, as you stand in a thick mist that about covers the sun, yet the brightness still breaks its way through.

By the time Obi-Wan and yourself are settled in the corner of a cave, after the wind suddenly picked up and almost blew you both off course, the sun is starting to set. You knew not a lot was going to happen on this mission in the first place—it was a study mission, or as you like to call it a lurk mission, as all you have to do is keep hidden, keep watch, and report back to the Council with your findings. You had hoped for something more comfortable, like a bed, or at least a room, but it will have to make due, especially because if you were going to be sitting in the middle of nowhere alone with anyone, you’re happy for it to be Obi-Wan.

He takes the first watch, then you take the one after him. You liked the silence, though it wasn’t really quiet with the wind. It was more so the silence of your master’s mind, as opposed to your own. When he was asleep, you didn’t have to put up a wall so high as to when he’s awake. You’ve trained under him for some years now and have learnt much, and have also used what you’ve learnt to keep Obi-Wan from the truth. Honestly, how embarrassing is it that out of all the people in the galaxy you could ever form a crush on, it was your master?

You don’t ever plan on telling him. You just hope it will pass with time. Unlike some other padawans you know, or even some Jedi (shh, don’t tell anyone), where all they want is for their crush to like them back, you just want this feeling to go away. You know it’s wrong, you know it can get you in trouble, and above all, you know the consequences if anything followed through. But, when you think of that in itself, you shudder. That’s new.

“Any updates?” Obi-Wan mutters, turning onto his back.

Thank heavens your lightsaber was not in your hand otherwise the sound of his voice would have startled you so much that you would have tried to slash him down. Your fight instincts always kick in first and more aggressively than you flight instincts.

“Oh no,” he chuckles. “I hadn’t meant to scare you.”

“Surprised,” you retort, pointing a finger at him and then twirling said finger around your padawan braid. “I was only surprised.”

He says nothing in reply, doesn’t make a sound. He simply stares at you, furrows his brows a bit, and then leans up on his elbow. “What’s the matter?”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re twirling your braid. Something’s on your mind.”

Damn it. Sometimes you forget how well he knows you.

He sits up, hissing a little bit from the ache in his back from lying on a hard surface. “Talk to me.”

Should you actually tell him? No, of course not. Hadn’t you only just reasoned with yourself how you would never tell Obi-Wan the truth? You’re keeping your mouth shut.

“I’m just a bit confused,” why the kriff are you talking?

“That’s only normal. We’d hardly be human without questioning some things.” He’s ever the supportive master. “What are you confused about? Perhaps I can help.”

Well, you don’t exactly want him to help. Goodness, the last thing you need right now is to be stuck in the middle of nowhere after confessing your feelings and have them rejected.

“Attachment.” It’s the only word you speak, just letting it sit in the air long enough for it to sink in with your master who, once you look over at him, looks like a Bantha caught in speeder lights.

“What about it...?”

Good. He’s unsure. He doesn’t have a clue where you could be going with this and that’s exactly how you want to keep it. You want to be able to twist your words if need be, without him already being two steps ahead of you like he always is.

“I understand why we as Jedi don’t explore that, and I have no intention of furthering my interest, but... aren’t we, like you say, only human for questioning such things?”

Maker, you’ve got him in a tight spot, don’t you? You’ve seen your master face armies of troops, even Sith Lords, but nothing has made him paler in the face than what you just said. It’s almost hilarious, but you happen to have enough sense in you not to laugh at him.

“Well,” he clears his throat, sitting up. “I can’t argue with that.” Himself. He means he can't argue with himself. “How long have you thought this?”

“A fair while.”

“I see. I must commend you on your curiosity, my young padawan.”

There it is again, the shudder. This time, with Obi-Wan awake, he notices it. His furrowed brows could almost snap in half at this rate. You better let the poor man breathe.

“It’s alright. Don't worry about it, master. Staying up this late just has me in my thoughts and I got carried away. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t worry if you didn’t just tell me not to. Twice.”

Alright. Can he just give you some space? How come he always knows what you’re thinking or feeling before you even know? How come he always runs ahead of you, even though you were in front literally moments before?

“You’re unbelievable.” you shake your head, lifting your knees up to wrap your arms around them.

He smiles. “Simply doing my part.”

“Would be nice if you didn’t do it so well.”

That earns a chuckle from him. It makes the air around you two just that more breathable, just that more lighter. It doesn’t feel as heavy now.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Obi-Wan speaks, leaning over to pat your leg comfortingly.

Good. You won’t tell. You won’t ever tell.

“I think I have feelings for someone.”

What happened to the original plot of the movie!?

“Feelings?” Obi-Wan asks. He wants you to say it.

“A crush.”

You know you’re screwed the second he starts playing with his beard. Did you go a little too far? Is this too much to handle, even for the renowned Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi? You’re not even anxious about what he might say, or how he might feel, you just want this to be over.

“Why do you think it’s a crush?” he finally says, yet doesn’t spare a glance in your direction.

“Why?” you ask, a bit confused. “Because... I think about them a lot, about what they’ve done for me, about who they are. I think about how safe I feel with them—how I like being by their side.”

Obi-Wan lets your answer settle in. He waits, in case you have anything further to add. Then, finally, he looks at you.

“A crush.”

Is that all he has to say? You know you didn’t exactly let all the chips fall, but you did just open up to him. A crush. Yes. You have a crush. On him. The fact that the one time you want him to be two steps ahead of you and yet he’s two steps behind is about to send you over the edge if you’re not careful, or if he’s not careful. A crush. Yes! You have a—

“Oh.”

It’s only now, after getting carried away in your head, that you realize Obi-Wan wasn’t stating a fact, he was posing a question. He asked you if you have a crush.

“Oh.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan confirms, and you just sit there in silence.

With how long you let it sink in, completely quiet, not even moving a muscle, you could convince yourself, and maybe your master too, that you’ve turned to stone. Wasn’t that a turn of events? But even so, what a relief. You let a breath out just as Obi-Wan leans over to tap his finger against your arm. Tap, tap, tap. He’s chipping away the stone. He always knows.

You run your hands down your face, burying yourself in them for a moment and then groaning out, “Thank, maker.”

Obi-Wan begins to laugh, nudging you with his elbow that almost topples you onto your side because you weren’t ready for it. You don’t have a crush! Yes, you like Obi-Wan. Yes, you’re attached to Obi-Wan. But it’s not love you feel, it’s admiration. Being a padawan and a person who’s never felt anything outside what you’ve been taught (or, really, shielded against), it makes sense that you blurred the line between the two. What. A. Relief.

“That was a close one.” you laugh alongside your master, making him shake his head. “I can’t believe I almost thought that I had a crush on you.”

Silence. The laughter stops, the wind kicks up, and you’re about to reach for your lightsaber to run yourself through.

Obi-Wan coughs. “You never told me who it was.”

taglist: @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @alwayssleepingforreal @obiwns @immoral-rose @bloodybunnyuwu @nagitokomaeda-onthe-nintendo-ds @princessxkenobi @mythandmagik @i-cant-hear-you16 @inukako @whyiminlove @cosmicsierra @dxnxdjarxn @voidmalfoy @darthkenobii @chogisss @nectav @disastereyebags @hellolitty @pradahux

[erin-bo-berin]

Sweet Cheeks

MASTERLIST

This was an anon request for a smut where Spencer and the reader have a Garcia and Morgan like relationship and boy was this fun to write. I think I got to around 3,000 words before I even got to the smut part so I might’ve gotten a little carried away. Happy reading!

Also, HUGE thanks to @multifandommandy​ for inspiration and help with Morgan quips in this. You’re the best. :)

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 5,056

“Last night around 2 am in Alexandria, Virginia, Desiree Armstrong was brutally murdered in her bed.”

Your finger pressed the button on the remote to bring up more images of the grizzly murder on the screen. You grimaced, looking away.

“Yeah, this is why I never look, kid,” your mentor Penelope Garcia said from the round table, her back turned towards the screen.

“It was definitely brutal alright,” Emily Prentiss commented.

“There’s so much blood, you can hardly tell what happened,” Derek Morgan piped in.

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned, “The poor woman.”

“Has the autopsy report come back yet?” Jennifer Jareau—JJ for short—questioned.

“Yeah. She was stabbed 24 times with a-”

“Kitchen knife. It looks a lot like a Santoku knife. They’re similar to a chef’s knife, but they’re shorter and thinner with a flat blade instead of a curved one. Mostly, they’re used for mincing, slicing and dicing. You can tell because the stab wounds are slightly longer than a normal knife wound would leave,” Dr. Spencer Reid cut in.

You gave him an exasperated look.

“Okay hot stuff, would you like to come up here and finish my presentation for me?”

He grinned, looking back down at the file.

“Anyway, as I was saying. Her 18 month old Willow was missing from her crib when the neighbor found Desiree.”

“That means she’s been missing for at least six hours already,” David Rossi noted.

“Which is why we need to get a move on,” Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner said, “Let’s go.”

Everyone gathered their things, heading for the door.

“See ya later, Dite,” Spencer called over his shoulder as he headed to the door.

You grinned at his special nickname for you, remembering how the nicknames had all started between you two.

“You know how to reach me if you need me big boy,” you called back.

“You two sound like Derek and I,” Penelope chuckled from behind you.

“Well I did learn from the best.”

•

When you’d started at the FBI, you were placed in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Working under Penelope Garcia, their tech analyst as her assistant/protégée, you were anxious to learn as much as you could.

You were endlessly amused at the playful banter and nicknames Derek Morgan and Garcia had for each other. Although it appeared to be flirty, it was none other than just platonic teasing and banter. They just had the personalities for that.

To not be a profiler, Garcia sure could pick up on things as well as the actual profilers.

Like your almost immediate crush on Dr. Spencer Reid.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that it took you a few months to finally be comfortable around him. 

You could do your job well, but not without awkward fumbling or the nervous voice cracking.

One time he actually thought you were losing your voice and suggested you drink some warm ginger tea with honey for it. He couldn’t see you through the phone, but your cheeks flamed from embarrassment.

Garcia had laughed for almost ten minutes when you told her.

“Loosen up Y/N,” she said, “He doesn’t bite.”

“I know,” you grumbled, “But he makes me nervous.”

“Well it never hurt anyone to be a little flirty,” she pointed out, “Try it sometime. Even if it’s not reciprocated it can go a long way for your confidence and helping you be more comfortable around him.”

You had to admit she had a point.

Thus, your nicknames for him began.

-

“Ready to help sir,” you’d walked into the briefing room where the team was sitting around the table, working a case.

“Okay, Y/N we need you to look up every male in a 100 mile perimeter of D.C. that owns a Lamborghini,” Hotch said.

“Well that’s gonna be like looking for a piece of hay in a haystack,” you mumbled.

As good as Garcia was, you knew broad searches were still tedious to comb through without other search parameters.

“Narrow it down to owners that are between the ages of 25 and 35,” JJ said.

“Are married or have just recently been married,” Morgan added.

“Okay, keep it coming,” you scribbled your notes on your notepad.

“Look for owners that have no children. Also, check their financial records. They might’ve come into a large amount of money recently,” Spencer said.

“Got it, sweet cheeks. I’m off to search.”

You left to head back to yours and Garcia’s lair, missing Spencer’s raised brows and slightly flustered and confused expression.

Morgan smirked at Spencer, holding back a laugh.

“Which cheeks?” he teased.

Spencer blinked slowly, looking quite dumbfounded.

“She means the ones on my face...right?”

Morgan laughed out loud at this as he stood to grab more coffee. He patted Spencer’s shoulder on the way out.

Pretty boy had a lot to learn.

-

Sure, the first nickname had kinda just slipped out. But Penelope was right. It kind of was enlightening to tease Spencer. It was amusing and adorable when he would get flustered.

What you didn’t expect was Spencer’s nicknames for you.

The phone rang and you hit the answer button.

“Y/N’s the name, researching is my game.”

“Wow, you sound just like Garcia,” came Spencer’s voice.

“She learned from the best!” Garcia called from across the room.

“I need your undivided attention, bright eyes.”

The pet name slipped from his lips so easily that you actually stared at the phone, making sure you were actually on a call.

“Y/N?”

“Bright eyes, huh?”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one with Garcia rubbing off on you,” he chuckled.

“Okay. I’m all ears,” you positioned your hands above the keyboard, ready to work, “Fire away, stud muffin.”

•

It’d been five years since you first joined the team. You and Spencer were now incredibly close and flirty nicknames were now an everyday occurance. 

Even Garcia and Morgan were no match for your banter and here you’d thought theirs was crazy enough.

Maybe it was because you had feelings for Spencer, maybe not, but it didn’t faze the team much at all. They were used to Derek and Penelope, so it was just another day at work.

That didn’t stop their passing comments on the matter.

“Jeez, the sexual tension in here is so thick I can cut it with a knife,” Garcia once commented.

“Will you two ever just suck it up and date?” Rossi shook his head after listening to another every day banter.

“Can these two just fuck already or something?” Was a comment you’d accidentally overheard Morgan say when neither of you were around.

You weren’t exactly sure what to call you and Spencer, but he was a friend and that seemed to be how it would remain, regardless of your crush.

“Any luck in finding Willow’s father?” you asked Penelope as you scanned Desiree Armstrong’s documents.

“Nope,” Garcia huffed.

The two of you nor the team had any clue who would have done this to Desiree. They decided to start looking for a father, to see if he could be a suspect. So far, a search for him turned up nothing. He seemed to be a ghost.

Your phone rang and you answered it with a click of a key.

“Hey Aphrodite, I need your brains.”

Aphrodite or Dite was what Spencer had taken to calling you pretty early on. It was quite flattering considering what she was the goddess of.

“Well if it isn’t Hunky Brewster,” you commented, “And to think the genius needs my brains, I’ve never felt more special.”

“That you are,” he chuckled, “I need you to look into a neighbor: Evan Kelly. The victim’s sister said he had been bothering her for a while.”

“Gotcha,” you typed out the name, waiting for search results, “I’ll hit ya back when I got something.”

You hung up, beginning your research.

•

Spencer was in front of the murder board, studying it. So far, they only had Evan Kelly and the missing father. 

He was currently on the phone with Y/N, going over the findings on Evan Kelly.

“Basically there wasn’t a window this guy hadn’t peeped in,” your voice came from the speaker.

“Any arrests?”

“Nope. Seems like this guy was just a creep.”

He sighed, rubbing his jaw, thinking.

“Any luck finding a father of Willow?” he asked.

“Garcia is still looking, but he’s just not there,” you said.

“Like not in the picture?”

“Like doesn’t seem to exist. We can’t find a record anywhere.”

“Look into adoption records, see if you can find out if she was adopted. She might not biologically be Desiree’s,” he said.

“Good point,” you said, “Now I know why you’re the genius.”

“I aim to please, pretty lady,” he smirked.

“I’ll get back to you in an instant, sugar lips.”

When he hung up, he turned to see Emily staring at him, jaw dropped.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head in exasperation before she spoke.

“What did you do to her?”

•

The team was back at headquarters, working hard to find the precious little girl.

You sat at the round table, working on the new lead the team had just discovered.

“So let me get this straight,” JJ said, “Willow Armstrong was adopted by Desiree Armstrong, although not through a legal company. As in, the company wasn’t legit?”

“More like it wasn’t done through any company at all. There was no paperwork, no legality, nothing,” Garcia answered, “It’s basically like the birth mother just handed over Willow and disappeared.”

“Maybe that was part of their verbal contract?” Rossi brainstormed.

“If so, then there might be an angry birth father out there,” Spencer thought out loud.

“And nearly impossible to find,” Derek sighed.

“Um, hello? Have you met me and my protégée here?” Garcia asked, motioning between you and herself, “We can find almost anything.”

“Any luck on finding an adoptive father of Willow?” Hotch questioned.

“No, there wasn’t a father,” you said, “Desiree was a single mother but her ex-boyfriend Scott Griffin knew she wanted to adopt apparently. I’ve contacted him and he’s willing to talk to you guys.”

“You never disappoint, angel face,” Spencer mumbled, still studying the murder board.

“Okay, Morgan, Reid you go speak to Griffin. We’ll stay here and see if we can track down the birth mother,” Hotch said.

“Got it. Thanks baby girl and protégée,” Morgan teased.

A moment later they were out the door.

•

“I hadn’t spoken to her in some time until just a few weeks before her death,” a bereaved Scott Griffin said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Morgan said sympathetically.

“Mr. Griffin, did Desiree ever mention the name of the birth mother?” Spencer asked.

Scott sat, thinking for a moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, she did. It was a unique name. Lorina something. Lorina Cano I believe. She wasn’t from here, but she lived around here she said.”

“What about the birth father?” Morgan asked.

“I never got a name, but Desiree said she claimed the birth father didn’t even know about the baby.”

Morgan and Spencer shared a look before turning back to Scott.

“Thank you for your-”

“Wait, there’s something else. I don’t know if it’s relevant, but the last time I talked to Desiree she said she thought there was a man following her. She caught him on her surveillance once.”

Morgan nodded while Spencer pulled out his phone.

“Thank you. We’ll see ourselves out.” Morgan said.

With a knowing look at Derek, Spencer hit your number, putting the phone to his ear.

You answered the call, putting it on speakerphone so Penelope could hear as well.

“Hola papito, how may I help you?”

You heard Spencer’s easy chuckle.

“Dare I ask what that means?”

You opened your mouth to speak but Garcia answered for you, not even looking up from her computer.

“Hot daddy,” she called.

If you could see him, you were sure he was blushing a bright red.

“I forgot to mention you’re on speaker, so keep it clean, both of you,” you chuckled.

“We need you to pull the surveillance from Desiree’s house. Scott Griffin said there was a man stalking her,” Morgan said.

“Okay will do. It’ll be ready for your viewing pleasure by the time you get back,” you said.

“Thanks Dite, you’re the best.”

“You know it, dreamboat.”

•

Half of the team were following other leads while you, Morgan, Rossi, Spencer and Garcia attempted to view the surveillance footage. It was slow going since it was pretty grainy.

Spencer stood in front of the big screen in the briefing room, studying it closely, his chin resting in his palm as he watched. He glanced over his shoulder at you.

“Honey, can you come here for a second?” he asked.

“Sure, sweet cheeks,” Morgan smirked, walking over to him.

Spencer looked at him, exasperated.

“Not you. Y/N.”

“Oh I see how it is. That hurts, kid,” Derek said, a hand over his chest mocking hurt.

You noticed Rossi’s lips quirked as you walked past him towards Spencer.

“Not. A. Word,” you mumbled to him.

“Do you see this car here?” Spencer pointed to the screen, “I think our suspect just got into it. Can you zoom in and see if we can make it out?”

This, he said to Garcia.

“On it, boo.”

He turned to you.

“I need you to see if you can find anything on Lorina Cano. If we can find her, maybe we can find the birth father.”

“Yup. My fingers are ready.” 

You were back in your chair working on your task, Spencer watching from behind you.

“Okay, got it.”

You pulled up the page for him. He read it, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Do you mind?”

“Not one bit,” he mumbled, still reading.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the screen. Your heart sunk when you saw the same thing he just had.

“Dammit,” he groaned.

“She’s been dead since last year,” you mumbled, feeling defeated.

“Well I guess we have to track down the mystery father another way,” Rossi mused.

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, feeling like you’d failed.

“It’s not your fault Y/N, don’t worry,” Spencer said, pecking your cheek, “I have an idea though, I’ll be back.”

You were still stunned from the kiss that seemed to come out of the blue. It took you a second to notice the other three staring at you, raised brows and amusement all over their faces.

Your gaze went back to the screen quickly, your cheeks flaming hot. 

Derek’s amusing response made you blush even further.

“Reid never kisses me like that.”

•

“Guys, I think I got it!” Garcia said, rushing in with her laptop.

You had been lounging at the round table eating your dinner. She’d been sympathetic to your frustration and ordered you to take a break from your research to have some dinner.

“Got what?” you asked, slapping Spencer’s hand away from stealing more of your fries.

“Ow!” he pouted.

“Fine,” you groaned, putting one in his mouth.

You turned back to see, once again, the entire team staring at you two. Garcia especially.

“What’d you find, Garcia?” Hotch prompted.

“Right. Yes. Okay, so from the partial license plate I found who I believe is our unsub. His name is Noah Elliot and he works for a trucking company. I just spoke to his boss. Well, get this. We know the father didn’t know about the baby, right? Somehow he got clued in—whether by a friend, a family member, who knows—about little baby Willow and he was furious. So, he finds Lorina I’m assuming and finds out that she gave Willow up for adoption. Somehow he found Desiree and killed her, kidnapping Willow. If you think I’m done yet, I’m not, I have so much more! According to the boss, a truck recently went missing from the company, they haven’t been able to trace it. Noah hasn’t showed up for work in a week and the boss was cleaning out his locker since he was gonna fire him when he finally showed up again. In the locker he found this.”

Garcia turned her computer around. Pictures of Willow and Desiree had been hidden in his work locker, assuming no one would ever find them.

“He was stalking her,” Emily said.

“Yeah and hardcore,” Garcia said.

“Garcia is there a way for them to track that missing truck?” Hotch inquired.

“Yes, they’re working on it now and before you ask the address is being sent to your phones right now.”

“Let’s go,” he ordered, the team following behind them.

“Be safe!” you and Penelope called after them.

•

“I’m exhausted,” you sighed, plopping down in your chair.

In total, it had taken a little over 24 hours to find little Willow Armstrong, safe and sound. After managing to activate the tracking of the missing truck, Noah Elliot was located and caught trying to cross the Virginian border into North Carolina. He would be going away for a minimum of 25 years.

Willow would be placed in the care of Desiree’s sister. It was a bittersweet ending. Even though the child had been saved, it still upset you knowing that the poor little girl had lost her mother at such a young age. But, it was a win. Not all cases ended happily and you were glad this one had.

“Same,” Garcia mumbled. 

You were waiting for the team to come back. Garcia had ordered pizza and everyone was going to relax and rewind before heading home. It was well deserved. They had been on the move almost constantly throughout this entire case.

“Good work today, bright eyes,” she smirked.

“Stop it,” you groaned.

“Aphrodite, Dite, Angel Face, Honey,” she replied, heavy emphasis on each nickname.

“Okay, so? You call Derek nicknames all the time. Spencer too and the others.”

“That’s different. I do it out of love and you know Derek and I just have that type of close, comfortable relationship,” Garcia pointed out

“That’s the same with me and Spencer. I don’t see your point.”

“Yeah because you don’t see all the flirting that happens around this office like we do,” Garcia gave you a look, “You were feeding him fries earlier for God’s sake! I wish you two would just do something.”

“Well that’s going to be hard to do considering it’s a one way street, Penelope.”

“You clearly don’t know the boy genius like I do,” she smirked, “He doesn’t...what’s the word for it? Flirt. Not like he does with you because he’s comfortable around you and likes you.”

“I love you Garcia, but you’re delusional,” you heard a noise in the hallway, “Say is that the delivery guy?”

You hopped up to go check.

“I swear Y/N, I will lock you two in a room if I have to,” she mumbled.

You turned around, an eyebrow raised.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she grinned innocently.

You walked out into the hall, Garcia at your heels and found Spencer carrying three boxes of pizza, a big smile on his face.

“Someone order pizza?” 

•

You were the last to leave, so it seemed. You wanted to tidy up your desk and get some work done so you wouldn’t have to worry about it later. 

You stood in the deserted hallway, waiting for the elevator.

“Late night for you too?”

You startled and turned to see Spencer exiting the BAU, walking towards the elevator.

“I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

“Sorry for scaring you, by the way,” he chuckled and you waved it off.

“Tough case, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, walking into the now opened elevator.

“You did some great work, Y/N,” he said, walking in behind you, hitting the button for the lobby.

“Hey, you’re the real hero here,” you smiled, “I just do computers.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t know what to do without you,” he said then quickly clearing his throat, realizing his mistake, “I mean we wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“Well, thank you. That’s sweet.”

You rode in silence until a loud crash rang throughout the elevator, followed by a shuddering sensation. Suddenly, the elevator came to a complete stop.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” you gasped.

“Uh, well. This isn’t good.”

Spencer hit several different buttons with no luck. The elevator still hung between floors and you were stuck in here.

You were literally stuck in an elevator with Spencer. 

With your feelings bubbling to the surface even more lately, especially during this case, this was your worst case scenario.

This was not good.

•

“So,” Spencer said, pocketing his cell phone, “Hotch said it would be at least an hour or so before he and the building engineers can get down here.”

“Wonderful,” you mumbled, pacing the very small space of the elevator.

You were sort of freaking out. Not because of the actual being stuck part, but because you were afraid of what you might do or might say. This was dangerous territory.

Of course, there was no way Spencer knew that and he obviously interpreted your anxiety as a reaction to being stuck.

“Hey, calm down, it’s okay.”

He grabbed your elbow, stilling your steps in front of the metal doors. You slumped back against it, but at least you stayed still.

“You okay?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Studies find that the best distractions in stressful situations are meditation, helping others and-” he paused.

With a quick purse of his lips, his eyes glanced upwards nonchalantly and his brows raised just the slightest.

“Orgasms.”

Your eyes widened, sure you’d misheard him somehow.

“I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m not an idiot, Y/N.”

Your mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“What exactly are you saying?” you asked hesitantly.

“I think you know good and well what I’m saying.”

You were astonished and exasperated.

“Dammit Spencer, if you’re just messing with me, I swear.”

He was closing in on you now, a slight grin on his lips, tongue flicking over them in a quick movement, moistening them.

“I’m not,” he whispered.

Then his lips were on yours. It took a moment for you to get over the initial shock, but when you did, you were kissing him back. 

His hand that rested gently on your cheek, slid into your hair, pulling your head closer to him. After a minute of pure heaven for you, he pulled away much to your dismay.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he murmured, lips hovering over yours.

“Yeah?” you whispered, eyes still on his lips.

You were on cloud nine and you just wanted his lips back on yours.

He hummed his response, pressing his lips towards yours again. His hand slid along your waist, pulling you into him. Your lips moved feverishly with his, your first initial soft kisses quickly gaining intensity.

“Hold on,” he said after parting from you again.

He shedded his suit jacket and your eyebrows rose. He moved to the opposite side of the elevator, tossing the jacket over the camera that hung in the top corner.

You bit your lip, trying to hide your giggle.

“Just in case,” he smirked.

It took about only two steps for him to be in front of you again, his mouth busy against yours once again. 

You still hadn’t quite wrapped your mind around the fact that you were currently trapped in an elevator, your back pressed against the metal doors, making out with Spencer. But then again, you didn’t want to focus on anything but him at the moment.

A small moan escaped you when he tugged your lower lip gently, teasingly. His hands had somehow made it under your dress, sliding up your bare thighs.

You broke away with a gasp when his touch ghosted over your nether region through your underwear. He pressed his lips together, pulling them inward, his dimple showing up because of the expression.

“Is this okay?” he asked, hand hovering near your pulsating core.

“Y-Yes,” you managed to croak.

You don’t know just how long you’d been lost to his kisses, but he had gotten you worked up and you could feel yourself throbbing with the want. All the sexual tension the both of you had shared was coming to the surface and you were craving every bit of it ten times more now.

His fingers traced a line upwards along the outer portion of the undergarment, his lips on your jaw, making a slow descent to your neck. He was taking his time with you and it was driving you crazy. His hands slid up, pushing your dress up with them.

You reached out for his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down. Other than your heavy breathing, the only sound was the slow grinding of the zipper as you pulled it down slowly. Your anticipation and arousal were making you short of breath and Spencer pulled back, eyes searching your face.

“I’m sure,” you answered his questioning expression, firmly.

That was Spencer. Always making sure to think of the other person first. You knew he wouldn’t have continued if you weren’t comfortable with it. 

His own arousal had grown to match yours, though his was obviously more apparent. You pushed his suit pants down, his underwear following.

Before you realized it, he’d hoisted you up and your high heeled feet were crossed behind him. His hand reached down, pushing your underwear to the side with a determined roughness as he kissed you. Then he was inside you.

Your hand tangled in his hair as he thrust gently to begin with, his eyes locked on yours. You felt a funny sensation in the pit of your stomach that wasn’t caused by your desire. 

The way he was looking at you was giving you extreme butterflies. It was as if you were the most beautiful woman in the world to him. 

Your hips moved in time with his and you bit your lip, whimpering from the pleasure. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. 

“Fuuuck,” he groaned lowly, sending your body aflame even more so than it already was.

Never would you have thought that Spencer moaning in your ear would be so hot, but it was.

The more he thrust into you, the more your moans became less restricted, flowing freely from your lips.

“Spencer,” you moaned, gritting your teeth, “Harder.”

If he wanted to fuck you as hard as he wanted against these elevator doors you’d be totally okay with it. 

He obeyed your wishes, his body rocking into yours, one hand behind your head to keep you from hitting it. You briefly register the thought that even during a situation like this he was caring enough to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself. 

“Y/N, shit,” he grunted, the sound sending shock waves down to your core.

As much as you loved his nicknames for you, you couldn’t help but love hearing your name fall from his lips in such extreme pleasure.

You grinned slightly, his nose pressing lightly against your cheek as he pulled you closer to him, his thrusts becoming uneven. He was on the brink of losing it, you knew it.

“Come on Spence.” 

Your hand gripped his hair and he lost all control his groan rippling through you. You had trouble realizing that you were the one having this affect on him.

But he wasn’t done with you, yet.

If he’d told you once, he’d told you a thousand times that he knew how to be a gentleman.

You reached down to finish yourself off but his hand moved yours out of the way, thumb landing on the bundle of nerves that sent an electrified feeling through your veins when his touch reached it.

“If you don’t know me by now, Y/N,” he grunted, his thrusts coming hard and fast.

“G-Gentleman. I know,” you moaned, your head lolling back against the metal doors.

His lips ravished your throat, his combined efforts releasing the fire in the pit of your stomach. You completely let go, your breathy moans filling the elevator, your back arching away from the doors.

When the intense feeling had subsided, your eyes opened to find him watching you. Your cheeks heated as you realized how out of control you must’ve been the entire time. But instead of being horrified or regretful, Spencer was smiling at you.

He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you gently, igniting the butterflies once again. It was this that truly confirmed that you’d fallen and fallen hard for Spencer.

After parting, you readjusted your clothing in silence, not exactly sure what to say.

“So, uh, wow,” he laughed a bit as he pulled his suit jacket back on.

He’d retrieved it from over the camera shortly after you’d disconnected from one another.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Your legs were definitely feeling like jelly at this point and you were pretty sure he could tell. It had been pretty amazing sex. 

“I know this is kinda backwards from how it’s usually done,” he chuckled, suddenly timid, “But could I take you to dinner sometime?”

Your hand found his and his fingers automatically threaded through yours. You kissed his cheek before answering.

“I’d love nothing more.”

The whirring of the elevator startled the two of you. Ironic how it was just in time, it seemed.

The elevator arrived back to the floor of the BAU and you were surprised to see Garcia and Morgan in the hallway.

“What are you guys doing here?” Spencer asked, stepping off the elevator, you at his side.

“Hotch had a thing he wanted us to do,” Garcia explained lamely.

“Like getting us out of the elevator?” you asked, suspicious.

“Yes! That’s it.” Garcia said, eyes flickering to yours and Spencer’s joined hands.

She was heading back to her lair when you heard her call.

“See Morgan? I told you stopping the elevator would work!”

Spencer’s jaw dropped and you gaped after Penelope dumbfounded. 

Derek laughed heartily at your matching reactions before following after Garcia, calling over his shoulder to Spencer.

“Hope you had fun, sweet cheeks.”

Tag List: @dreatine​ @reid-187​ @groovyreid​ @reidslibra​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @fuckthealarm​ @whatspunispun​ @iamburdened​ @cindywayne​ @thomasfoockinshelby​ @tinyminy88​ @theitcaramelchick​ @missprettyboy​  @hushlilbabydoll​ @sammy-jo1977​ @theonlyone-meeeee​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @lemonypink​ @multifandommandy​

[dragonblobz]

I'm on my bullshit again. No lemons. Just Shinigami goodness. Wrote this to In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth 3 by Coheed and Cambria.

Ryuk has been around for such a long time. Ever since she had found that notebook sitting on that tree stump years ago. Cover soft looking and beaded with dew. It had looked as if it had been there some time. And, although the pages looked weathered and yellow, there was no mold or outward damage.

Surprising given its location in the middle of the woods. She’d only even seen it because she’d stopped and knelt to retie her shoe. Just an alien black square looking sharp and unreal sitting on that stump just off the jogging trail.

She can remember how the thing had felt when she’d picked it up. Soft in texture. Like careworn leather.

The words “Death Note" emblazoned on the cover had made her feel a little unsettled. Eerie out here in the predawn misty quiet.

A silent voice inside her mind had whispered that maybe she should put it right back down on that stump and keep running. As far and as fast as she could.

Another voice, vapid and cunning, had laughed at the absurdity of such a book, with such a title, being left out here in the middle of nowhere.

She hadn’t left it there. Without opening it, she’d tucked it under her arm and continued on her morning run.

She performed all the menial tasks of her daily life, forgetting all about that Death Note leaving dew marks on her dining room table.

Breakfast was bland. Work was tedious. No different than any other day. Even when she’d reentered her home and plopped her work bag next to the thing, her eyes really didn’t focus on it.

It was the tall bony Shinigami standing in her kitchen that finally arrested her fuzzy mind from the blandness of living.

He hadn’t even been looking at her. Instead, the spinous processes of his vertebrae pressed onto the dark material upon his long back as he leaned over her counter. Observing a bowl of fruit as if it were a still life masterpiece.

She hadn’t moved. Was utterly frozen. Just watching this creature as it looked at her food.

“What’s all this junk? Taking up room that could be used for perfectly good apples.” It’s voice, low and yet raspy, grated on her eardrums as it lifted a hand and poked a claw into the ripe flesh of an orange. The movement causing several pieces of fruit to fall out of the over filled bowl entirely.

With a deft movement, the creature caught the only apple which had exited the bowl. Rubbed it with the pad of it’s thumb as it finally lifted it’s face to look at her.

It’s face………

Cadaverous. Eyes beady and large and yellow. Nose squashed. Like a mummy who’d decided to affix it’s hair for a punk rock concert. It was even sporting a dangling silver earring on one of it’s little ears.

At her gawping expression, it had smiled. Wide thin dark mouth sporting a row of razor teeth appearing aged and yellow.

“No screaming, eh? Hiya, Y/N.”

She hadn’t bothered to question how this thing knew her name.

“Um…….. hi?” Her own voice sounded dry and distant in her ears. “And you are?”

It bit into that apple, it’s eyes closing. As if savoring the fruit. A stray drop of the juice dribbled down onto it’s chin.

It said a word. But muffled thru a mouthful of apple, it nearly sounded like a retch.

“Ex….Excuse me? I didn’t…… I didn’t quite understand that.”

“Not a good listener tho. Ah well. Nobody is perfect.” It’s long tongue snaked out to swipe at that bead of juice as the creature had studied her.

Raising it’s free hand, it extended a long bony finger. She noticed now the rings glinting on his hands.

“I. Am. Ryuk.” He said it very slowly. As if she might have been a child who might not understand. But there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or ill temper in it’s behavior.

“So….. Ryuk…… why…… um…. What……. What do you want?”

At this, it’s smile had widened.

“I’m just here Y/N. YOU are the one that picked up the Death Note.”

Imagery of that notebook popped up in her head.

“I….. I did……”

“Yes. You did. And I’ll be with you until you die now. Or I do.” It was leering now. “Whichever comes first.”

“I see….” She didn’t really see. Turned from him and went into the dining room to pick up that notebook. Opening it. Reading the first thing written on the inside of the cover out loud.

“The human whose name is written in this note shall die.”

It had been frightening in retrospect. Not those words. Not that Death Note. Not even the monster standing in the doorway happily crunching it’s way thru a second apple and watching her.

What had been utterly terrifying was that she had not blanched. Had not set this note down and backed away. Had not told that creature to take it and go.

Instead, she’d stood there. Continuing to read. A name and face already coming to mind.

A face belonging to a monster who’d put that apple eating shark mouthed monster to utter shame. The man who’d killed someone she had loved.

Without looking away from the Death Note, she’d reached over and started rummaging thru her work bag. Fingers shaking and fumbling at keys and change.

“Never can find what you’re looking for if your bag is too full, Y/N.” Ryuk looked vastly amused. “You’re not even going to question the validity of the Note? That’s what you humans usually do.”

She hadn’t answered. Simply gasped as her fingers had clutched onto a great fistful of bullshit in her bag. Lifting the whole mess out to drop carelessly on the table. Chapstick and a tampon scattering across the surface.

And there, rolling and coming to rest against an old broken key chain, had been a blue ink pen.

She’d looked up at Ryuk. Eyes wide, almost manic.

“Any person?”

He smiled again. Repeated her words.

“Any living person.”

There had been no eloquence. No artfulness nor ritualistic care taken in that first death. She had scratched the name onto the paper. And a way to die. Almost stabbing it in. Breathing coming out in ragged desperate gasping.

After the deed had been done, the pen clattered to the floor as she’d wept. Fingers numb.

It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be no way to instantly verify this death. Not until that moment. And so, with a frustrated cry, she’d slapped the Death Note onto the table and fled into her bedroom. Right over to the dark corner to collapse, wrap her arms around her knees, stuff her face into her knees, and cry as a child. Ryuk following her, tilting his head quizzically at this suffering.

“Why are you crying? You couldn’t have liked that human if you wanted them to die.”

“Please…… please go.”

But he didn’t. Simply had sank down. Knobby knees on either side of his ghastly face as he sat across from her.

“I told you. I’m here till you die, Y/N.” There was no camaraderie or sympathy in his voice. It had been matter of fact. “But this surely will get boring very soon, won’t it?”

“When will I know if he died?”

Ryuk smiled again. Leering.

“My my. Impatient aren’t you. Actually that’s a quality I like about you humans. As for your question, I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.” His eyes glint as his smile turns wicked. “You could always write a name belonging to someone closer. If you’re seeking validation, of course.”

“There isn’t anyone else I wanna kill.”

“Then this is going to get very boring very quickly, Y/N.”

She hadn’t had to wait long. Two days later, she’d received correspondence that her presence would no longer be required at a hearing. The defendant was dead.

A quick Google search verified that the person had died just as she’d written.

Setting the phone down, fingers numb, she'd simply looked up at her Shinigami.

She knew that’s what he was now. She’d been peppering him with questions about himself and his kind. And about the Death Note. He hadn’t answered many of them. At least, not until she’d given him an angelic grin and revealed a bag of bright green apples.

“Your apples can be green???” He'd looked absolutely delighted. And had been far more forthcoming.

“He’s dead. He’s really……. Gone…….”

Ryuk merely grunted in visceral enjoyment as he popped the core of that Granny Smith into his maw.

Without warning, she’d reached forward, patting at another errant drop of juice on his chin with a Kleenex she’d just snatched from the box. The action was mainly impulsive. And she’d laughed.

“You’re so messy.”

The Shinigami had frozen. Utterly motionless. He didn’t breathe himself. Statue still. Simply looking at her.

The years passed by like this. The shock and relief provided by this first killing soon giving way to an almost comfortable routine. She didn’t go on a wholesale slaughter. And often targeted those who hurt children. The pain of such cases resonating with the events of her own life.

And there were so. Many. Apples. Loads of them. Ryuk loved all kinds. Although he did seem preferential to Honey Crisp. She never once could get him to try another fruit. And she DID try. Not even a damn orange.

“It’s yummy. Ya know, for somebody that says he gets bored easily, you sure are picky.” She waggled the bright fruit.

“I’ve watched you peel one of those things. What sort of food makes you work so hard? Now THIS……” He'd held up his half eaten apple. “THIS is the pinnacle of crisp and juicy. Now leave that orange wherever you found it, if you please.”

Time was littered with conversations as simple as these, intermingled with serious discussions in which he was as non informative as ever.

It was one of these more serious conversations which followed an observation on her part.

She’d noticed changes in him. Very slight. But she was simply around him so much that she could see them. His movements had become slower. More careful. His speech slowed as well. As if he might be thinking more carefully. Or even forgetting things. She never once pointed this out.

Not until, one day, after clearing 6 entire apples, he’d actually groaned as he’d flopped upon her couch. Long booted feet hanging over one of the arms.

She plops next to him. Poking at one of the skulls on his belt. He’d long since stopped being surprised by her impulsive touches and nearness. Her humanness. Simply tolerating it.

“Are you hurting, Ryuk?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Oh. No reason.”

“I’m dying, Y/N.”

For once, it is she who freezes.

“I thought Shinigami lived a long time.”

“We do. My time is simply running out.” He’s just watching her.

“You’d said….. you’d said that you guys get more years by taking ours.”

“We do.”

She stops toying with that skull entirely. Turns her body so that she’s facing him directly.

“Is it time, then?” She’s oddly unafraid.

“Time for what?”

“For you to….. ya know…… write my name in YOUR Death Note?”

At this, he chuckles.

“I’m not going to write your name.”

She looks confused.

“But….. why not?”

Now he’s actually laughing.

“Do you WANT me to write your name in my Death Note?”

She chews on her bottom lip. Reaching out to pat his chest. Once again, he doesn’t react.

“I don’t want you to die.”

He laughs again. But there is no more true mirth in the sound.

“Why?”

She counters.

“Why won’t you write my name?”

“I am not entirely sure, Y/N.” The slight confusion in his voice gives credence to this answer.

“Well. I am sure.” She’s staring intently at him. “Everything ends, Ryuk. Nobody ever stays. Nothing is constant. I’ve never had a single person ever remain in my life. Except….. except you.”

He sighs. Patiently repeating himself.

“I will be with you until you die.”

“I don’t care if it’s because you have to be here. You’re still HERE……. Will it be soon?”

That same, toothy leer.

“You know I won’t tell you your lifespan, Y/N.”

“I don’t mean me.”

He just looks at her. She’s never seen his face so expressionless. Then repeats yet again.

“I will be with you until you die. Or until I do.”

“I will write my own name then. Will that do it?”

“Stop being foolish. Be a dear and get me another apple won’t you?”

“Yeah….. I will. But I’m not done.”

“I’m sure you’re not.” He chuckles.

It is as if this conversation opens a chasm in this inevitable process. Everything about Ryuk is changing. And so quickly.

Already emaciated and pale, even his dark lips turn papery and light grey. His hair grays too. Yellow eyes growing filmy where they had been so keen before. As if, when the aging process actually begins in a Shinigami, it is accelerated.

It is barely 2 weeks after this conversation that he gives a defeated grunt, sprawled on her bed as she’s on her laptop.

“I can’t get up.” He barks out a laugh. As if this is genuinely funny to him.

She closes her laptop and rises from her chair. Turning and walking over to the bed to flop next to him. Staring at the ceiling just as he is.

“You want another apple?”

“Thank you, Y/N. But I do not.”

“That close, huh.”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Will the Death Note still work? When you’re gone I mean.”

“Yes.”

Her voice is oddly cold.

“Do death gods go to hell? I cant go to heaven or hell. What about you?”

He doesn’t answer for several minutes. She doesn’t speak either. Finally…

“I suppose we will end up in the same place, Y/N.”

“I'm glad.” She turns her face to look at him. “I’ll need something before you go.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“The Shinigami eyes.”

At this, Ryuk turns his face as well. And they just stare at each other.

“Clever greedy impatient girl.” The insult is almost affectionate. “Are you truly that afraid to die alone?”

“Nobody should die alone. And this way, neither of us will half to. Half my lifespan for the Shinigami eyes. We’ll die at the same time.” She looks back up at the ceiling. He does too.

When he feels her fingers intertwining with his, as always, he doesn’t react.

“I never actually made that offer to you. Merely spoke of it.”

“I don’t care. I want the Shinigami eyes.”

He turns his face to her.

“Who am I to turn down such a lucrative deal?”

She sees his hand coming towards her face. Closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, the picture of her and some old friends on the wall is noticeably different. One face, the face of the friend who’d committed suicide years before, is clear and unblemished. The other faces each have a name and numbers above them.

And when she looks back at Ryuk, she sees that his hair is once again jet black. Eyes just as clear and sharp as she remembers. He leers at her. Squeezes her hand as she’s squeezing his.

“I’ll take that apple as well. If the offer is still there.”

She grins.

“You got a new lease on life and you STILL won’t try an orange?”

He scoffs.

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 10 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3k

Part 10 - Mors Grano

The days after Avery’s poor attempt of gathering information went by quite eventfully. Not only had Avery and Lestrange almost gotten expelled by Dippet for what they had done, but had received the worst detention you had ever heard of. 

Every day, up until the N.E.W.T.s would start, they had to help Mr Carpe, Hogwarts’ caretaker, to clean every last bit of the castle. Without magic of course. And when they weren’t scrubbing floors, cleaning windows, or polishing trophies, they were copying the school rules on parchment, by hand. The amount of paper they had to fill looked like it wouldn’t even fit into an entire classroom, had it not been rolled up. 

Even if they still wanted to, their new schedule didn’t even give them enough time to trail, or even think about you. They barely had enough time to finish their homework before tumbling into their beds.

You would have felt sorry for them, but Tom’s snarky grin, which he wore every time you saw the two in the hallways, reminded you that you didn’t have to. 

Thank Merlin you hadn’t told Avery much when he had disguised himself as Tom. You had just confirmed that the engagement had been arranged but thankfully hadn’t said anything about your sister. There had been worse rumours going round about Tom and you. 

Camille almost didn’t believe you when you told her what they had done. After a lot of head shaking and “no, they didn’t”s she just stared at you with her mouth open and proceeded to laugh for a full minute or two when you told her about their punishment. 

It was a lucky coincidence that she had found an interest in Ben, as she didn’t mind now that you were spending a lot more time with Tom. She was preoccupied as well by the looks of it. 

After the accidental sleepover, you had stayed in Tom’s dorm overnight more often. Not on accident though. It had become a routine to you, to have another quick chat with Camille after classes, arrange some dates for when you wanted to study together and then make your way to the Slytherin common room, where Tom’s dorm was.

Tom was sitting at his desk when you entered the room, apparently deep in thought and studying the Potions book he had gifted you.

“Alright?” you said when you closed the door.

He nodded as you went up to him.

“Found anything interesting for the Moly?” you asked. “It still looks quite healthy to me.”

“Not really,” he answered and turned towards you. “Nothing specific.”

“Oh, I just got an owl from my parents. ” You crammed the letter out of your bag and handed it to him. “They’ve fixated the date. For the wedding.”

Tom read the letter quietly, his eyebrows twitching slightly once or twice.

“June 30th,” he said.

“That’s only one day after we graduate,” you stated and tried to lighten the mood by joking. “Seems like they can’t wait for the big day.”

He nodded as he gazed into the flames inside the fireplace, a tiny grin pulling on the edge of his mouth before he looked up at you. “Can you?”

To prevent the chuckle that built up inside of you from bursting out, you took Tom’s hand, lightly pulled on it and gestured towards the couch, where you wanted to sit. He closed the Potions book, but kept one finger inside it and took it with him when you led him over.

“Well, I don’t know,” you said as you let yourself fall onto the cushion. “It still doesn’t feel real, does it?”

“True,” he simply agreed. 

“I can’t wait to try on the dress, though. That’ll be exciting,” you went on and noticed him smiling. “And then there’s the most important part, of course.”

He gave you a look as if to say he didn’t know what you meant.

“Elsie,” you explained. “Your uncle will lift her curse completely then. Or so I hope at least.”

Morfin had to, didn’t he? It was part of the pact after all. Tom and you would get married so that they would free your sister. As much as you wanted to believe that the Gaunts were trustworthy, there had been a nasty sting in your stomach ever since the engagement. Would they really give up, even when they had won? They wouldn’t be able to control you anymore afterwards, or Tom, or anyone but themselves. Marvolo’s filthy grin appeared in your head. Would he ever give it a rest?

“He will free her, won’t he?” you asked.

Tom looked into your eyes for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Well, it’s what they agreed on.”

“But?” you asked. 

“But,” he went on, “You’ve seen how they are.”

An invisible weight seemed to pull on your limbs and the sting in your stomach got more intense. 

“They’ll never let go,” you breathed. “But how-”

Tom shook his head and exhaled slowly. “I have to show you something.”

He gave you the Potions book and opened it at the page where he had put his finger before. “I thought you’d come across it on your own, but as I noticed you wouldn’t… Just see for yourself.”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering what Morfin’s book had to do with anything, before looking down at it. Tom pointed at a recipe, written in scrawled handwriting:

Mors Grano or The Dust Of Slow Death The dust is used to be scattered over an item and will cling to the first person that touches it. Vanishes the second the victim comes in contact, which makes it very hard to be detected and cured. Victims will suffer from a distinctively harsh cough, as well as pain and flu-like symptoms, which will worsen each day, until they become fatal. Average time until death is around three weeks after the first encounter with Mors Grano. In most cases, the victim will lose their life before the appropriate antidote can be given. 

You didn’t bother reading the list of ingredients, as your hands were shaking far too much to even detect another word. You had heard of Mors Grano before. Professor Dippet had brought it up in History of Magic when you had learned about the Passing of Men in 1760. Hundreds of witches had poisoned their abusive husbands with it when the dust had been invented. It had taken years to figure out what had caused such an increased amount of deaths, which happened to involve male wizards only. The potion and most of its ingredients got banned afterwards and you had never heard of another case since.

Until now. It suddenly all made sense. The Gaunts had sent the letter and had coated it with Mors Grano. They had known how to cure Elsie all along and had patiently waited, days and weeks, had let your sister suffer until Father had contacted them. No wonder the owl had given the letter to her, even though it had been addressed to Father. They had specifically chosen her. A ten year old, innocent, little girl. 

You weren’t sure if you had to throw up, or just needed to punch something really hard, but your stomach did twists and turns that you had never felt before. A thin layer of sweat had formed on your forehead and your hands were still shaking.

“They…” you whispered. “And you knew?”

Tom swallowed thickly. “I didn’t at first. But then I came across it when Morfin prepared the poison.”

“And you never told me?” you asked, your voice loud and on the verge of breaking, while you attempted to get up from the couch.

“Let me explain,” Tom said and grabbed your hand. “Sit down.”

“What is there to explain?” you asked, trying to pull away from his grip. “You’ve known for months. Even before your first visit. Before Elsie got sick. And you never tried to prevent it, nor did you tell me.”

Tom’s grip around your hand got tighter the more you tried to get him off you. “I said let me explain. I let you explain yourself when I saw you with Avery, didn’t I? Imagine I just ran away then. Now sit down.”

Finally, Tom’s grip loosened, allowing you to tear your hand away from him. Not knowing what to think or say, you sat down but couldn’t bring yourself to even look in his direction.

“Yes, I knew,” he began with a sigh. “And I didn’t care until I found out what they wanted to use the potion for. But I couldn’t tell you. Or anyone. I still can’t. I’m unable to talk about it. They were a step ahead. Understand?”

The Gaunts were a step ahead. They always wanted to be. Just like on Christmas Day, when they wanted you and Tom to do-

“An unbreakable vow?” you asked with wide eyes. “You had to vow not to tell anyone.”

He nodded. “I vowed not to tell. But I didn’t vow not to show.”

He turned one page inside the book and handed it to you again.

Mors Grano - antidote

Ingredients: 

The skin of a snake

2 fresh Foxgloves

3 blossoms of a Moly

4 drops of Moondew

5 tears of a Banshee

“The antidote,” you mumbled. “Full with an ingredient list and instructions. Morfin brewed it already then? They gave it to Elsie, otherwise, she wouldn’t have gotten better.”

“He didn’t complete it,” Tom answered, apparently trying not to say something that would interfere with the vow.

“He left out something? They gave her an unfinished antidote?”

Tom nodded. 

“The tears?” you guessed, solely because it was the most powerful and rare item on the list.

“I’m not sure. They never let me into his chamber after the engagement.”

“Can we… Can we steal it from him? And add the last ingredient?”

“Marvolo has the flask on him at all times. He’s suspicious, even of Morfin.”

Bloody hell. Marvolo’s paranoia was a real pain. You scanned the antidote again, thinking of all the ways you could get your hands on that potion.

“But I could brew it myself. Most of the ingredients are easy to find. Foxgloves are for sale in Diagon Alley, I’ve seen them countless times. The Moly, we have it here,” you listed and looked at it standing on the desk, finally realising why Tom had tried to keep it alive so badly. “Snakeskin from Nagini. We just wait for her to shed. Moondew and the Banshee tears will be tricky, however.”

Tom nodded at every new thing you had said. “You figured it out.”

Your stomach had stopped squirming at the glimmer of hope you had for saving Elsie. You carefully read the recipe for the antidote again, understanding how long it would take and how hard it would be to get the potion right. If everything went well, it would be finished mid to late June at the earliest. Besides, Slughorn had never taught you such advanced techniques. 

Now that you were thinking of your Professor, it began to dawn on you. “Do you think Slughorn has Moondew and Banshee tears in his chamber?”

“Possibly,” Tom answered. “But do you really want to steal from him after what Avery and Lestrange did? I’m sure he’s got it all locked up in his office now.”

“Well, I have to try. Where else would I get those things from? And I better try soon. The antidote will take months to make as it is and the earlier I start, the better.”

Tom took the book, got up from the couch and put it into the drawer of his desk, closing it shut slowly.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“We’re going to Slughorn then, aren’t we? Come on.”

You followed him out hastily, trying to sort out your thoughts. Frankly, you had not expected to get the ingredients this quickly.

“Wait, how are we going to do it?” you asked, struggling to keep pace. “We can’t just sneak in and grab the things we need. He might be in there.”

“Even better then,” Tom said, not deigning to look at the other students strolling along the hallways. “I talk, you get the stuff.”

As Slughorn’s office was located on the sixth floor, it took some time to get there. Your mind was still racing around the facts you had just been given and you needed to talk about it.

“I can’t believe they made you vow,” you muttered. “Marvolo and Morfin are…”

“Bastards,” he finished your sentence when you stepped from one of the moving staircases to another. “I’m aware.”

“Well, yes they are.”

You were the only people on the staircase, floating higher up towards your destination. Tom looked over his shoulder to double-check if anyone could hear him.

“You know what,” he said pensively. “I actually expected people to ask me what I, or my family, had done to make the engagement happen. Seeing as it was them who got the ball rolling. But everyone suspected you. They all thought your parents bribed us.”

You thought about what to answer for a moment. A sour smile had formed on your face. One that, for all you knew, every woman had worn at least once in her life. 

“A woman's intentions will always be questioned a hundred times harsher than those of a man, Tom. What else is new?”

He pressed his lips together, nodded and kept quiet until you reached the sixth floor.

“Wait,” you said and got a hold of his hand when you had entered the corridor of Slughorn’s office. “I wanted to thank you. For helping me. The book, the Moly and now this. You know you don’t have to.”

He squeezed your fingers lightly in response. 

“Trust me, no one hates Marvolo and Morfin more than I do. If I can make their lives a bit harder, I’ll gladly do it. And besides, I want to see your sister become Quidditch captain one day. That will really piss them off.”

There wasn’t a lot of time to take in Tom’s words, as you had arrived. There it was. The door to Slughorn’s room.

“Get behind me,” Tom ordered. “Make sure he doesn’t see you.”

You did as he said, pressed your back against the stone wall and watched from a small distance how Tom knocked on the door and Slughorn opened it.

“Oh, Tom,” the Professor said. “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

“Good afternoon Professor. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I have some questions about Avery and Lestrange. I’m trying to sort out some things for Professor Dippet. Would you mind letting me in?”

Slughorn opened the door fully and stepped back. “Of course, boy, of course. Come in.”

Tom had left the door open for you to slip in behind them, which you instantly did. He lured Slughorn to the far end of his office, walking backwards and keeping an eye on you. Slughorn’s potion stock was right next to the entrance, where you knelt down between the shelves, in case he would turn around unexpectedly.

The small drawers weren’t tagged, but you noticed that their contents were sorted alphabetically. As you silently roamed through them, you could hear Tom and Slughorn speak.

“So, Professor,” Tom said. “Do you know if Avery and Lestrange have taken anything else? Apart from the Polyjuice Potion?”

The Professor hummed. “Not that I’m aware of, no. Why?”

Every single one of the drawers was filled to the brim with ingredients, some vials even had completed potions in it, but you still hadn’t seen the things you were looking for. It was a delicate act to go through everything so quickly, while being quiet at the same time and making sure not to miss anything.

“Well, there were some items found. Residues of Moondew and Banshee tears,” Tom explained.

“Banshee tears?” Slughorn asked.

“Yes. We can’t be sure if it was them, but I thought if you missed those things from your supply, the two might have something to do with it.”

“No, everything else is there, I counted it myself,” Slughorn assured. “What baffles me are the Banshee tears.”

Tom was an excellent liar, even though Slughorn would have probably bought anything his favourite student said. The bottom drawer at the penultimate row was stuck. You pulled the handle tightly but it only opened up an inch and gave a screech while it did, making you freeze from fear.

“Did you hear something?” Slughorn asked, his voice echoing your way.

“No, I didn’t,” Tom answered and coughed. “Why are you surprised about the Banshee tears, sir?”

“Well, those tears are rare,” the teacher answered, his head directed towards Tom again. “Very rare and also not very legal, boy. I’ve never seen them anywhere in my whole life. They couldn’t have been from me.”

No Banshee tears from Slughorn then. You pulled out your wand and cast a nonverbal spell to loosen up the stuck drawer. Should have done that right away, you thought to yourself. Eventually, it opened smoothly and your eyes went over all the flasks and their name tags. Mollowsweed, mandrake, maw, mistletoe berry... Moondew. Thank Merlin! There were over ten vials of it in the drawer, so you hastily took out one and put it into your pocket.

You peeked over the counter, locked eyes with Tom, and pointed towards the door to let him know you would leave.

“I see,” Tom went on, his eyes back on Slughorn. “We’ll have to look into that. Anyway, if you do notice some Moondew missing, against all expectations, I’m going to have another talk with Dippet about Avery and Lestrange.”

“I’ll let you know, boy. Thank you.”

“Enjoy your evening, sir.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[cadykeus-clay]

remember a few days ago when i said i was writing a collection of mismatched scenes of all the times that I think jester and caleb should have just kissed on the mouth? hehe :)

I.

“Caleb, can you hear through it?” she’s yelling, head tilting and eyes squinting as she looks at the one-way glass he’s just apparated in the middle of the hall. She leans in, scrunching her nose and sticking out her tongue a little as she detectives. “Can we come into it?”

He grins, he can’t help himself. “Only you.”

“Do we just hit the side of it or -” 

Her fingertips press through the barrier, disrupting the near-transparent bubble with a ripple and he reaches out his hand for hers, guides her in. Her mouth makes the cutest little oh! shape as she passes through and she can see what he’s seeing. 

“Caleb. This is so COOL!”

The grin hasn’t dropped from her face, and it spreads infectiously across his. 

“I’ve been working on this for weeks,” he says, smacking his legs with triumphant fists. 

Her grin gets even wider, sharing in that joy. A few more silent moments pass, as she takes it in with awe. 

“So, can anyone come in, or like, only people you like, or … ?”

He thinks for a moment, grins slyly. He sticks a finger out, just barely missing her nose. “You can come in.”

She leans towards him, returning the affection he seems to be offering. She gets close to his face, on purpose. She likes making him blush. “That means you like me.”

Blush he does. It’d be near impossible not to - they’re alone and unseen together, and she’s leaning towards him, her grin pushing up the freckles on her cheeks he’d love to try and count. And he’s tired, exhausted, barely functional. He’s got no strength left to carry all the layers he usually hides himself behind, but it’s alright, it’s only Jester looking anyways. 

She hasn’t pulled her face back yet, like she’s waiting for him to do something. Tease. 

Even after everything they’ve both seen these past few days, fear seems gone for just a second. They’re safe inside their shell, and no one’s watching. It would be so easy to just lean down, steal a moment to remind her that he cares, remind her that he’ll always care, remind her that he did this to keep her safe, take her mind off why. 

It would be so easy ...

******

II. 

“Can we like. Stick things through the bubble?”

“Uh. Ja, you can put your weapons through it, but no magic can come in or out. But you can leave and come back any time you want.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

She tries to hide the wince in her face as she nods a bit too heartily, jostling the half-healed slash across her chest left from panther-like claws. He notices. She notices him noticing, notices the way his brow furrows even deeper. 

“But, please. No walkabouts when we are sleeping, okay?” 

He looks up at her through those drawn-together brows when he says it, pleading more than he really needs to. She learned that lesson. But it’s still sweet to see how much he cares. 

He’s been caring a lot lately, come to think of it. Chatting with her on the boat. Checking in. Making sexy jokes when they’re supposed to be stealthing. Doing a very bad job of hiding his attempts to make sure she laughed at it.

“I’ll stay right here. I promise.” She settles back onto her hands, hoping it’ll bring a little relief to the pain starting to spark across her ribs.

“Well. That’s good enough for me.”

And he pauses for a second, just a second, like he’s giving her an invitation to double down on that promise, make sure he knows she knows someone cares, and who someone is, and that someone else cares back.

It would be so easy … 

******

III.

When she was little and read a lot of fairy tales, she’d often think about kissing a beautiful boy in a beautiful room full of paintings and tapestries and a billion things on shelves that glittered just to be pretty, and the light would somehow be reflecting off all of them at once, and his shirt would be off for reasons, and it would be glorious.

The tunnel they're in can’t really constitute as a room, but the way the crystals shimmer even in the dim glow of the Dancing Lights, rippling all around them is arguably better than shiny decorations. Caleb certainly can constitute as a beautiful boy. After all, she’s just admitted he is neither stinky nor dirty anymore. And arm wraps aren’t quite the same as a shirt, but he has taken part of his clothes off in front of her. 

Creepy snails and the third day without daylight weren’t her romantic vision, sure. But. She feels safe here, with him, and she hopes he feels safe with her. She had meant what she had said, a few days back, when he spilled his fears and his history on the floor of their wagon. She didn’t think he was a bad person. And the way he looked at her when she said it, man, he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe it so bad. 

She ought to let him know. She ought to tell him, again, that she believes in goodness in him. She believes in love in his heart. She ought to tell him right now, in this glittering cave with his heart and arms bare before her. She ought to tell him in a way where he can’t argue back ‘cause his face will be preoccupied. 

It would be so easy …

*******

IV. 

“YOU GUYS!”

She practically burst the door to their new ally’s house down with excitement when she got back, holding out the little striped carrying box in front of her like it’s the coolest loot they’ve ever found. She bounces on her toes, making it hard for anyone to get a real look at the confections inside. 

“What do you have?” he asks, knowing she wants to tell him.

“Cupcakes!” she beams back.

“A lot of them, or?”

She flips the lid up and pushes her nose nearly into the icing topping as she examines the haul. “Well I have thirteen here, so … one, two, three -” 

He almost says the numbers along with her. Counting things and making Jester smile are both muscle memory at this point.

“ - six, so good! That’s one for each of you and the rest for me!”

He looks in the box properly now, the counting having slowed her jitteriness enough for him to try and piece out flavors. There’s some dark ones that could be chocolate, but he doubts it, and some that are paler, dotted with blue. He reaches for a blueberry one, and takes a cautious bite. 

“Caleb,” she says, pouting, and he’s worried he wasn’t supposed to try one, “you are Missing. Out.” 

She sticks her face in towards him, to make sure he can get a good look at this reprimand. She’s got a little bit of icing stuck in the corner of her mouth. 

“You can get blueberry cupcakes anywhere.”

He keeps his eyes trained on her, longer than he really ought to, but he’s trying to figure it out. 

Is that a challenge, Lavorre? Is that a promise?

It would be so easy...

*******

V. 

She has to get up on her tip toes to reach the shelf where they keep the scribing paper, pulling the stack towards her so she can count out sheets. 

“About 300 gold?” 

“Mmm.”

She counts out the sheets, thumbing them forward into a little pile that she pulls apart, before stretching up to push the rest back onto the shelf. She turns on her heel and marches for the front counter. He lingers a moment to straighten the pile on the shelf, and trails after her. 

His gaze is buried in the inside of his coat as he searches for his coin purse. His hands are still buzzing, just a little, from where she held them earlier and promised him she’d be at his side. He can’t stop thinking about it. It’s distracting him from getting his coins. 

The distinctive clink of metal on countertop jerks his gaze up just as he reaches his hand in for the first coin. She’s already dropped the gold in a neat little pile, pleasantly smiling at the clerk as she snaps the clasp on her purse shut. 

“That’s very generous of you,” he says, hand still frozen holding his own money. 

She swings around, flashing a thumbs up and a grin. She holds it a little too long for comical effect. Of course, he snickers. 

She turns to the paper on the countertop, making to gather it in her arms, but he starts, and she turns back to face him. He’s frozen there, hand just barely outstretched for her, mouth agape like he was going to say something. 

What is there to say? What can he possibly say to her, to repay everything she’s ever said to him? What can he say that’s worth the sound of her laugh, and the way her tongue sticks out a little when she smiles? What’s worth the way she brightens up a room even when she’s grumpy, the bubble to his gloom? 

What measures up to a tap on his shoulder as he turns to leave his study, and hands in his as she swears, with the most somber honesty he’s ever seen, that she watched him face what he could have been, tied up like a feral beast in a prison cell, and she stares in his eyes and tells him it’s ok, she saw it and loved him even through it, and then bought him presents afterwards just because?

He’ll never deserve her, he swears. 

She’s still looking at him, expectantly, and his mouth is still stuck open, and his hand is still halfway between the two of them. Maybe it’s just him, but the memory of her holding it seems to be burning even hotter. 

He tries to say something again, and the words aren’t coming out. She’s still waiting on him, expression starting to tip towards worry as he tries and fails to express just how overflowed his heart is right now. He can’t say it but gods, she ought to know how much she’s worth to him. Maybe he can just show her. He’ll tell her later.

It would be so easy … 

******

VI. 

The hallway is orange. Pale, warm, sort-of-translucent orange, swirling about her in patterns of lollipops and unicorn hamsters. Her own spells wrapped in the tender grip of his magic, handed to her with something like reverence. 

I believe, he had said, I have no choice. 

He’d done little things like this before, casting spells to make her and everyone else happier, letting her play with his cat because it made her smile. But he said he’d been working on this for weeks. Pouring time and sweat and his precious paper into making this thing, just for her. Everyone liked to tease her about the Traveler and how it was totally a cult, and usually she let it roll off her back, even if it stung a little on impact. And Caleb was here, telling her he took her belief in the Traveler at face value, simply because it was hers.

I don’t know anything about faith, he had said, I am learning from you.

He was a suspicious man. She knew that. He held grudges, and he mistrusted, and he had every right to. And yet all these months, he’s been putting everything he had in her hands, sure that she would not drop it. She would hold it as gently as she could.

I am the transmutation wizard, he had said, but you are the one who changes people. 

How was he supposed to know that was what she was afraid of, leaving no mark on the world at all? How was he supposed to know she made art everywhere she got the chance to in hopes that she would stop being erased, start existing outside of one little room and a handful of people? 

He wouldn’t have any reason to, except for he knew her so well, better than nearly anyone. He could tell when doubt was crawling up out of her gut, spilling its black tendrils from her mouth and across her eyes. He could see when the veneer got scratched, and he knew how to brush it just so, so it looked okay again. He knew how to comfort her. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

She knows it’s barely anything, but she doesn’t know what else to say. It caught her by surprise, and she’s reeling a little in the aftermath of seeing just how far he’s willing to go for her. 

He says something else, she barely processes, but it’s enough to get her babbling about some kind of performance. She trips over her words a little, she’s just so excited. He can tell, he smiles, and that just makes her heart jump even more. 

“But you have done so much for m- for all of us,” he says, and he’s not sneaky.

For me. She knows he was going to say it. For me. 

Tears are almost brimming in her eyes, happy ones, and he put them there. Done so much for her, she thinks, has he counted how much he’s done for me? She’s clasping her hands at her mouth, trying to keep all her feelings from coming out at once.  

He doesn’t know the half of it, everything he’s done for her. To make her feel safe, to make her feel smart, to make her feel seen, to make her feel believed in. He doesn’t know it at all, and yet the hallway is orange as a testament to how much he’s done, and she can’t let the sentiment go unreturned. 

It would be so easy … 

*******

VII.

“Didn’t go as well as you were hoping?”

His voice seems to startle her, as if she’d forgotten in her sadness that there were other people around her. He knew the feeling. 

“In some ways it went better?” she says, doubting it even as it leaves her mouth. “But. No.”

His face softens. It’s the only thing he can do, really.

Her breath is coming out shaky.

“I can’t speak for him,” he starts, offering what little encouragement he can, “but you do have us.”

“I know,” she answers, grateful even through the sadness. 

“So, whatever you land on. Jester.” He stops for a second, letting her name linger in his mouth. “We will make it happen.”

She nods, curt, tears still pricking in her eyes. “I have to figure out what I want to land on.”

He laughs, hollow and breathy, what else is there to do. He starts to reach his hand out for her, and catches it, his own hesitance getting the better of him.

He knows what he wants her to land on, he’s known for … longer than he really cares to admit. He knows he’d follow her to hell and back, that’s why he’s here on this island with her. 

He knows how hard it is to love without a compass to direct it. He knows that moonlight makes selfishness a much more appealing color. 

It’s dark, and he’s hopelessly in, and she’s searching for a place to not be so alone. He could show her a place to land. 

It would be so easy … 

******

VIII. 

He’s holding it out to her, a black ball clutched between his fingertips, just a little iridescent in the blazing sun overhead. He’s grinning, and his eyes are bright. He looks so happy, for just this moment, with a pearl in his hand. 

Forget the water pouring down their faces as they come up from the murk, plastering their hair to their foreheads at odd angles. Forget the wrench in both their guts about the monster brewing beneath their feet and in their minds. Forget the clothes sticking to their skin in all the wrong spots. Forget the sounds of their friends arguing twenty feet back. 

She jumped in the water with him for a reason, because he wanted pearls, and she wanted him to be happy, and he’s holding one out to her right now because he is, and that’s all she could really ask for.

Maybe it’ll be extra wet and slippery. Maybe it’ll taste like salt and seaweed and that weird fish stink that all bodies of water seem to have. Maybe her hands are covered in sand and they’ll get some in their mouths and it’ll be disgusting. 

Who cares? She jumped in the water with him and he’s happy. 

It would be so easy … 

******

IX.

The funny thing is, when she was little, she actually planned her wedding in this room. The canopy bed would double as the altar, gauze draping about them and the window lighting them from the back as they knelt with their hands together, wrapping them up with silk ribbon as someone spoke some formal rites. Mama would sit in the guest of honor chair at Jester’s desk, a tear running down her cheek as she watched her baby girl marry the love of her life.

Now Caleb’s in here with her and she’s realizing there’s no good angle to get the window backlight and be in full view of her Mama.

He’s lying down on the bed, because she told him to. She’s flopped down next to him, squirmed up into his side with the excuse of “small bed” but the intent of “I like the way I rest against your side”. 

He’d commented on her array of books - she knew he would. She may or may not have pulled the smarter looking titles up to the front a few visits ago, just in case.

He’d looked at her artwork too, spanning the walls in all its multicolored glory. He’d bent down to get a good look at her earliest, shittiest paintings. But not in the way where he wanted to see how bad they were, to laugh at. In the same way he looked at new artifacts they’d picked up along the road, as he traced his runes for Identify. Like he was trying to glean a missed history out of them, to get to know just a little bit more about what was in front of him now.

So she’s curled into his chest, careful with her horns, wrapping her hand over his to point out every last detail. Her other hand falls to his stomach, her fingers brush his, and neither of them pull away.

She always figured they’d fall like this, her and her husband, backward onto the bed after the ribbon was knotted to finalize their union. They’d be too happy to stand and they’d just collapse at each other’s side, and they’d plan their honeymoon like this. Pointing out places they wanted to go in her little snapshot of the cityscape, nestled into each other’s chests. 

Caleb’s enraptured, she can hear excitement in his breath, and she’s more than a little pleased. She didn’t know people cared this much about her art, about her childhood, about who she was before she became who she is. She hopes she has all the time in the world to tell him more. 

She’s still on his chest, their hands are still touching, even though she’s finished pointing out the painted landmarks. She’s kissed a lot of imaginary boys in this room. 

It would be so easy … 

******

X.

Spinning with her arms out, feet tracing circles in the snow, they haven’t even made it to the dance hall yet and she’s already waltzing like he taught her all those months ago in a scroungy gnomish bar. The cold is bringing a flush to her cheeks and god damn it, it’s cute. She’s humming. 

They could get inside where it’s warm, where they don’t need to get close for heat but they do anyway. Wrap an arm around her waist and take her hand in his. Keep her close enough to hear her giggle with each twirl he leads her on. Get drunk off her smile alone. 

Find a far corner where the music is softer and they have space to just sway together. Write new memories over old, equally as sweet, slightly less bitter. Look at that smile that won’t have faded since before they stepped through the door. Run his fingers across her jaw, save this moment in tactile too. Lean down in slow motion, as she stretches up.

It would be so easy … 

******

XI. 

“What are you drawing?” he asks, not even looking up from his spells. He’s grown comfortable with having her in his space.

“A cup of hot cocoa.”

“Are there dicks in it?”

“No, just two very lovely marshmallows.”

His head lifts up at that, gazing at her with the gleam he’s been giving his runes. He’s trying to figure her out.

“Shnuggling up next to each other,” she continues. “With consent.”

“We’re not talking about grass are we?”

“No. I’m talking about marshmallows.”

“Marshmallows?” The gleam in his eye grows a little brighter. He leans a little closer. “I thought there was a hidden meaning for a second.”

There’s a reason why she sat down here, why she wanted him next to her as she thought about love and commitment, and telling people things after all these months. There’s a reason why he didn’t start as she settled at his side. There’s a reason why he’s looking at her with a cocked grin on his face, sure of himself, in a way that he so rarely is. 

Maybe she wanted him to figure her out. Maybe she’s been trying to get him to figure her out for a while. He’s starting to turn back to his spells, so maybe she needs to get even a little more obvious.

It would be so easy...

******

XII.

She knocked on the door with her heart already in her throat, but the second she stepped through the door and saw him looking over at her, tired but welcoming, it started to settle back where it belonged. 

“Caleb. Will you cast tongues on me? YouknowImeanthespell,” she said, rushing words out because her heart was starting to leap back up again. “I just want to read the book.”

He nervously tucks some hair behind his ear. “I could read it to you, if you want?”

She knew he’d offered before, but she’s still surprisingly happy that he’s done it again. “Okay.”

He stands, wiping stained ink from his fingers on his pants as he leaves his desk, gesturing her over towards his fireplace. She swears as she walks over the flames get a little taller. She’s always liked it warmer than Caleb does. 

She flops down onto the couch, wiggling a little bit to get comfortable. She pats the seat next to her and he obliges. She holds the book out and he takes it from her, so very gently, and she can’t tell if it’s just the way he treats books, or the way he treats her, or both. 

He clears his throat as he prepares to open the cover, glancing over to make sure she’s ready. She scooches a bit closer, resting her cheek against his shoulder, you know, to see the pictures better, and hums to let him know he can start. 

He talks to her in a quiet kind of voice. It’s soft, and it makes his chest rumble, and it feels like home. She could close her eyes and fall asleep here, and she can bet he wouldn’t even get up and risk disturbing her. She nearly does, but he’s stopping every few sentences to show her the pictures, without her even asking, he just knows she wants to see them. He’s pointing out the hidden cat on every page. She loves that he still remembers where they all are.

“That was a happy story, Caleb!” she says, mostly to his shoulder, because she doesn’t want to move from where she’s nestled herself. 

“Mhm,” he agrees. “That’s why my mother read it to me.”

“I really thought, like, the cat prince was going to trap him in there forever, and then he wouldn’t be able to go and see his mother.” She cranes her head up now, propping her chin on his arm, stabilizing herself with arms she was barely aware she’d wrapped around his waist. 

“Well,” he says, turning his head towards her and finding their noses nearly touching, “a lot of Zemnian stories do end that way.”

She laughs, he smiles, and neither of them want to move. 

“The Cat Prince kind of reminds me of the Traveler,” she muses. She buries her face back in his shoulder as she talks, squeezing her arms a little tighter around him. 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” 

It’s a question only in technicality. The way his voice sounds as he says it, she can tell. He’s read so many stories, he could have picked any to leave in her room, but he chose this one about a boy and a bedroom and a magic cat and a brief escape, with a happy ending. He knew she’d ask. He wanted her to. 

She’s glad she did. She’s glad he knows her so well. She’s glad for the way he turned up the fire to make her comfortable. She’s glad for the smile that’s still on his lips, lasting longer than his smiles usually do. She’s glad she’s here with him, after everything they’ve seen and heard and done. She’s just glad. 

Gods, she’s so in love with him.

It would be so easy.

fin.

[vminity21]

Recompense | myg

Pairing: student!yoongi x student!reader, college!au f2l

Word Count: 2,925

Genre: angst, fluff

Warning(s): language, mention of death of a relative; Rated: pg 13

Summary: Underneath the tough exterior is truly grief, yet Yoongi is unable to execute it well until he discovers that you relate to him more than he realized. Sometimes learning that you are not alone is the best form of healing.

Credits to: @suhdays​ for making such a beautiful cover!! And thank you @cyberkryptonitecupcake​ for making the request! I really hope you like it!

Rain clouds encompass campus as easily as entering the end of a thread into a needle. At least, that’s the analogy you groggily come up with and you are sticking with it. Compiling your textbooks into your backpack, you trace your steps in finding your dorm key and with a brief look in the mirror, you inhale and exhale slowly. You can do this today. You are smart. You have great hair. You will not annoy Yoongi for the millionth time in two days.  It has taken a lot over the years to give yourself positive affirmations to start your day as your mother always taught you to do so, but when she had passed, you went a very long time without encouraging yourself at all.

But that’s the secret you keep. With no social media for anyone to discreetly look at of you, you bury the heartbreak as best as you can because overall you know that your mother is proud of you. She would want you to stay positive; she would want you to smile not only for you but for the sake of others. Stepping onto the sidewalk, you put in your airpods with an upbeat tune as you saunter to class. You were partnered for a project with Min Yoongi, and one thing you have learned is that he is not your biggest fan for reasons you are uncertain. Maybe it has to do with how much you antagonize him with your charms? Maybe it has to do with the irresistible way you cut letters out of construction paper. Who even knows? But…. He does have a cute bu-

The brief collide of a large shoulder astonishes you as you jolt to remove an airpod, “Hobi, are you insane?” You stifle a large smile as he scrunches his nose at you.

“Saw the perfect opportunity and I took it.”

“Well, good for you. How are you and Monnie holding up? This project is intense.”

“Firstly, I better confess before she calls me out. She’s done all the work. Secondly, is it the project? Or the partner?”

Flashing your best friend with a warning look, you keep the subject away from Yoongi. “Of course, your girlfriend has done all the work! What is the point of a boyfriend if he is completely useless!”

“Excuse me, Heathen. I’ve come up with some of the facts that we have to present so I have put in a smidge of my time.” He shakes his head, ruffling his strands from his laughing eyes.

“You better be glad she loves you. I’d washi tape your eyes closed. And then superglue wiggle eyes in your hair.”

“I’d also give him a mullet and replace his eyebrows with pipe cleaners. Hello guys,” Monnie joins from the library as all of you continue to class.

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t fight back?” Hoseok muses while laying a steady hand upon his beloved tendrils in preparation to protect.

“I have my ways, peasant.”

Feigning to be nervous, Hoseok’s gaze flickers between you and Monnie. “I don’t know what kind of vile thoughts are festering within your skulls, but I do not want any part of it. But, to return your question because I have human decency unlike you stale croutons, how is the project going with Yoongry?”

“Hobi, how many times do I have to tell you that he’s not angry, he’s just… I don’t know difficult.”

“Seems angry to me, ow!” Hoseok rubs his side from where Monnie jabbed him with her elbow upon entering the classroom.

“Sh! He’s right over there,” Monnie whispers in warning. Yoongi is leaned in his chair with arms crossed, his intimidating gaze observes the room while his tousled, black hair reveals his forehead. As much as you hate to admit this, you are very attracted to him- especially when his eyes move to find you. Shit! Smiling in his direction as happily as you can muster, he briefly rolls his eyes in response before returning his gaze to the front where you happen to make a quick trip to the professor.

“Um, Professor Namjoon, how are you doing?”

“Ah! My straight A student, I am wonderful, how are you?”

“I am doing great, Professor, just wanted to let you know that I read over the articles you suggested for the project! Super helpful!” You gleam.

Yoongi eyes you as you continue your conversation with Professor Namjoon. One thing he has picked up on is how much you like to people please which is something he has never fully understood about the human population in general. Nobody should have to go out of their way just to make someone happy if they do not want to, but then again, it’s hard for him to express his emotions especially after his mother passed away before the semester even started.

“Good morning!” Your chirpy voice resonates with the intention of making Yoongi smile, but instead he murmurs his greetings in response.

“You studied over Furosemide last night, haven’t you? That’s one of the major heart medications used in the veterinary field.”

“I sure did. You studied up on pimobendan as well, correct?” The project is based on medications for congestive heart failure and the importance of why they are needed along with the explanation of what happens within the heart when it is functioning abnormally. ‘Lucky, I got stuck doing a project on the prostate,’ Hoseok’s whine echoes in the forefront of your brain.

After a few seconds, you can’t seem to refrain from taking Yoongi’s presence in. He really grew up to be so handsome. The thin curve of his chin, his button nose, his soft, umber eyes and the way he gels his hair in place, even the scent of him is alluring.

“Staring at me isn’t going to get the job done,” he mumbles, slipping the rolled poster behind him to unravel upon the desk.

“Looking at you?” You jump, frantically moving to gather the materials needed to decorate the project. “I’d rather look at a pin cushion.”

“It probably would appreciate it if you didn’t stare at it either.”

Squinting your eyes at him, your mouth open and shuts multiple times without a subtle comeback. “What is with you? You know I’m not going to cower until you smile, right?”

Shoulders tensing, Yoongi peers at you, “Can you take anything seriously for at least one second?”

“If taking this project would help boost my immune system, sure, why not.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you need a dose of sunshine. Hoseok has a contagious smile, why don’t I introduce?”

You are unaware of the grip you have on the chair beside you, trying everything you can to maintain your happy façade no matter how much you are tempted to let it crumble. How was your mom so good at handling people like this? There has to be something deeper tormenting him to resonate so much hatred to whatever it is he is clinging to.

“I would prefer to be introduced to a tree. Now if you’ll so kindly hand me the stencil sheet, I will begin formulating words to define the jobs of the atriums versus the ventricles before tracing the letters.”

“I’ll leave you to it then. In the meantime, I’m going to grab a coffee, I’ll be right back.” Shuffling to retrieve your wallet, you are sure Professor Namjoon wouldn’t notice the few minutes that you would be gone and for what it’s worth, you need a moment to relax. What happened to make him so cold? Unbeknownst to you, a picture of your mother swoops to the ground to land at the tip of Yoongi’s shoe. Eyebrows scrunching, he bends to pick up the picture to see a woman whose smile matches yours, but not only that, there is a familiarity about her as if he has seen her before.

“Miss Jeon?” Memories swarm his mind of his childhood where an exuberant joy was in the air mingled with the smell of chocolate chip cookies. A little girl chased him around the backyard while giggles reverberated throughout the atmosphere. Miss Jeon would call out for you guys when the treats were ready and would always make sure Yoongi had everything he needed when he would come to visit. But that little girl who was his best friend as a child happened to be none other than you. How had he not recognized you? Another memory resurfaces, one of his own mother sharing laughter with yours. They had been friends, too.

From what is written on the back of the portrait, it is revealed that your mother is no longer on earth right beside you the same as his mother left this world so soon. Tears gather in his eyes as the shame overwhelms his chest in all entirety. Who was he to judge you based on your happiness? If you could lose someone who obviously meant the world to you and can still maintain your kindness, then why can’t he?

Bustling of the other students is loud enough to not focus in on the man whose world has seemed to halt. Swallowing roughly, he tries steadying the picture with his quivering hands as a tear drips off his cheek. His mother would be disappointed in how he coped with his anger and today was the day he would need to make a change. And he will. When you return, the Styrofoam cup warm in your palm, you set it onto the table, “Alright, now that I’ve retreated for a few minutes, I would hope your top tier attitude has-”

Quieting immediately, you take in a trail of tears resting on Yoongi’s face. Eyebrows furrowing, you are so surprised that words do not exist in this very moment. Why is he crying? Did you say something wrong?

“I’m sorry,” he whispers through the trembling of his chin, “I’m so sorry.”

“Yoongi, what’s?” Eyes trailing to his hands, you gasp at the realization that he is holding the picture of your mother that you carry with you everywhere you go. Before you can even verbalize anything, Yoongi hands you the picture without a word and exits the classroom while you stand there in silence.

-

Days pass and you haven’t seen nor have heard from Yoongi. Running your hands over your face, you’re leaned over your desk with nothing but the days events cycling heavily on your brain. Any form of homework has not been touched, and Professor Namjoon seemed to fully understand the circumstances of why you needed to leave class early. Collecting the materials as well as the posterboard, Hoseok and Monnie had helped you carry everything back to your dorm and offered to stay with you for the evening, but you declined. LenLen, your roommate happens to be with her boyfriend, Jimin which saves time for you to cry.

You miss your mother more than anything in this world, and she is the first person you would have called if she had been alive. How did you miss the picture falling out of your backpack when you grabbed your wallet? Deep down you always knew who Min Yoongi was, he was your ‘soulmate’ when the pair of you were children. Your mothers would always joke about a future of grandchildren with the absolute assurance that you and Yoongi were destined to be husband and wife. Unfortunately, you and your mother had to relocate for her job opportunity and you never saw Yoongi again until you recognized him the beginning of this semester.

It is funny how life works sometimes, as if an invisible string tied him to you in all aspects of life. Alas, he did not remember you, hence why you had been so lenient with his annoyance directed at you. You wanted to believe that he would wake up, and because he was so stand offish, you couldn’t find the bravery to confront him nor confess that he was your friend at one point in life. Instead, you bottled it up. When you called your brother to give an update a few days ago, he relayed the news regarding Yoongi’s mother which all made sense as to why Yoongi was so distant; your heart shattered for him as tears pooled. How could you possibly ever bring up a subject as devastating as that? But you wanted Yoongi to know that he is not alone. You are mourning as he is. If only he would realize who you are-

A soft knock on the door jolts you from your palms while sparks dance along your vision before clearing up. Confused due to not expecting anyone, you carefully step to the door, cracking it open to realize that Yoongi of all humans is standing with a bouquet of roses in his grip. “Yoongi?” You take in a sharp breath, “How did you find my dorm? I don’t remember-”

“I met Hoseok,” he says softly, “You were right, his smile is… definitely contagious but rather mischievous for lack of a better term. He told me where to go.”

Giggling, not only at his accurate description of Jung Hoseok, but also out of uncertainty because you have no idea how to truly react. Is it odd that you are very happy that Yoongi is here? Gaze flitting to the roses, you are in awe of how beautiful they are against the dark shade of his trench coat. “They’re beautiful.” You say, “How did you know I loved roses?”

A gentle smirk graces his lips, the closest to a smile you have ever seen, and you have never felt your heart pitter patter the way it just did. “I remember always seeing them in a vase when my mother and I would visit.” His fingers stir along the plastic cover around the stems, “Really, I am so sorry. You did not deserve to be treated that way. I was wrong to take my frustrations out on you. Not that this is an excuse but, my mother-”

Reaching your fingers to lightly press to the back of his hand, he stops as his eyes widen. “Why don’t you come in?” You whisper, and straight way he enters, following you to a sofa set off to the side. “My brother told me about your mother. Yoongi, I am so sorry about that. She was the sweetest woman. My mom always missed her after we moved.”

“And mine always missed your mother,” you take the roses and swiftly prepare a vase of water to settle them in, decorating the kitchen counter with the beauty of the red petals. “I think… I think I just blocked out that time in my life because I hated that you weren’t there with me anymore.”

Your heart skips a beat. Did Yoongi eventually remember everything after all? “I was heartbroken, too.” Turning to lean your back against the counter, you cross your arms to try to bring some comfort to the anxious feeling beneath your chest. The pain of the losses will never go away, but the man across the room will end up being the bloom of happiness that you will need, and you will be his solace- the one person who will remind him that he is not alone. He has you. “I don’t want to hear another apology, okay?”

His mouth falls open, “But-”

“Nay, you shan’t.”

“Really though, how will I ever repay you for my actions? I should have never forgotten about you.”

Arms still crossed, you gradually near him as he stands to his feet, your eyes connect with his, “All I want you to know is that you are not alone. Sure, you may not have known who I was majority of the semester, but at least you know now.” When his gaze, filled with guilt, strays, you move your head to regain his focus. “Yoongi, really, you remember me now. So, lets try to live life the way our mothers would want us to.” Your voice breaks, knowing how proud they must be of the pair of you reconciling and reuniting after years of being apart. “Besides, we have a lot to learn, and a project to finish, so whaddya say?”

For the first time in years, you get to see it, the gummy smile glowing from his face as he shakes his head at you. “Must I be reminded of that wretched thing? I’d prefer to shave my eyebrows.”

“You have a sense of humor?” You tease lightheartedly as you nudge his shoulder with your knuckles. “I knew you had it in you!” Chuckling, he reaches for your frame to pull into a tight embrace, you immediately relax into his mold while you breathe in the crisp scent of his cologne. “Goodness, you smell like a dream. If our moms were correct about our future, I am not going to be disappointed!” For once, the pair of you feel complete even if sorrow will awake from time to time- as Yoongi squeezes you tighter, you bury into the crook of his neck, pressing a small kiss to his warm skin. “We better make an A+.”

Pulling away slightly, to rest his forehead upon yours, he is still smiling, “Following up with some extra credit.”

“Agreed,” you beam, letting his warmth encompass you to its full extent, when you almost lose balance due to him shifting his feet, he catches you.

“I’m so-”

“Gah!” Your fingers brush his lips, “What did I tell you?”

“No more apologies.”

“No more apologies.”