#I found the first half of this piece sitting in my notes document from maybe 6 or 7 nights ago

[cheeto-flavoured-pasta]

It’s always one little mishap and then all of a sudden, I’m a shitty person. A fool. A careless idiot. Well, in my eyes, that’s what I am. Maybe in others’ too. I don’t know. I hope not. But it’s a cycle at this point, just some spinning wheel fueled by the desire to never fuck up anything again. 

I got called stupid a lot as a kid. Someone  could ask me to find, I dunno, a cup lid in the kitchen and it’d take me way too long to figure out where it was. My sister would vaguely point, tell me to “turn off the light,” and there were about four of them, but asking would only make her angrier so I fumbled with each switch until she finally told me which one. Doesn’t sound bad, I know. And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just the yelling afterward that stuck in my seven-year-old head. Maybe it was just the “too slow”s and “fucking incompetent”s that wormed their way into my brain and stamped themselves on the prefrontal cortex. 

Silly mistakes, plus a kid who doesn’t know jack shit, equals an entire outburst from everyone older than I was. I still don’t understand why the math works that way. Then again, what do I understand? I don’t wanna say nothing, because that’s harsh. So let’s see what I do understand. 

I understand… that little mistakes and imperfections in my behavior define who I am. I understand that people can make all the stupid slip-ups they want, and I don’t — or, well, maybe I can’t — say anything about it, but when it’s me, I should shut up and take the insults. I understand I can’t always comprehend directions and that makes me a fucking idiot. I understand there’s something wrong with me. My brain. Myself as a person. 

Oh, and there’s one other thing that just popped into my head right now. 

I think I understand where my crippling self-esteem comes from. 

[the-odd-devil]

August's Night (part 1)

Edward Nashton x gn!reader

Summary : Edward is your first and only friend in Gotham. Tonight the sky is beautiful and so is your friend.

Word Count : 1 648

Warnings : None! Pure fluff!

Author's Note : I impulsively wrote this little fluff fic, I have so much long fics I'm working on, and working a little fic that is in your current mood felt amazing. Not beta read, so excuse me for the mistakes and my non-English native speaker writing >< I hope you'll like it nonetheless!

The offices are empty. It’s the middle of august and everyone is on vacation. You can finally breathe. 

The open office is silent, just some distant keyboards can be heard. Your time here has been hectic. Moving to Gotham was hard enough for your boss to not even acknowledge you just arrived there, and to ask you to do tasks you had no idea what they are about.

You spent your first day looking at numbers on your screen. You had no idea what they were about. You kept looking at the screen. Your eyes started to get blurry and your head was buzzing. You felt like you were about to throw up when,

“H-Hi…”

You turned your head to be facing with a man. A tall man, tall enough to tower you and be intimidating, but he looked nothing but sweet. Shy voice and demeanor, not standing straight and looking at the ground as if he was afraid to scare you, soft smile as his lips made a semi crescent and his eyes were smiling too behind his clear frame glasses. You found him beautiful in his own awkward way.

You sniffled.

“Hi… My name’s… My name’s Edward… I thought that… maybe I can help you?”

You nodded.

Edward took place being your chair to look at the screen. Head on top of yours, arms straddling you. The gesture was reassuring. 

“You’re new right? How long have you been there?”

“It’s my first day.”

His eyes went wide before an angry frown drew over his face. He muttered under his breath something about your superiors being pieces of shit.

He continued looking at the whole document, getting comfortable above you, you felt his belly touching your lower back. Your stomach flipped, and your cheeks grew red. It was soft and hot on you. You were now extremely conscious of the situation. You were in the proximity of a stranger, a very cute stranger, his arms brushing yours, his warm breath caressing your hair. The previous buzzing of your head became a soft, calming one, making you dizzy as butterflies were dancing in your stomach. 

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

He woke you up from your drunken state. You look up to meet his gaze. Your nose were almost touching.

You saw a red blush spreading on his face and his glasses sliding as his eyes were lost in yours.

He coughed. Put his glasses up and changed his position to be on your side. You unconsciously pouted from the lost.

He waited for your approbation, looking at you with a sad expression, apprehensive.

“Uh, yeah! I could go for a coffee right now.”

A warm coffee in hand, you observe your new colleague making his. He was tall and doesn’t stand straight, trying to make himself less visible. His clothes a bit big on him, but you were still able to see his belly through it. He was looking like a cliché of a nerd in his high button shirt underneath his sweater, dress pants and shoes. You found it very endearing. He looked like someone you go to to be comforted. 

“Do you want to join me? I-I thought I could finish my work and help you…”

You spend the rest of half of your shift sitting next to Edward’s desk on a chair you borrowed from one of your absent colleague, the other half in the same position at yours. His voice was very relaxing, calm and low, as he gently explained to you what he was doing, looking at you to make sure that you were understanding. Making you blush by showering you with praises. You were already falling for Edward Nashton the first day that you met him. 

You were already inseparable the next day. You made a habit of taking every coffee break together, putting sweet messages on sticky notes for the other, and visiting each other desk for moral support. Days at your shitty office job in Gotham were made sweeter. 

You wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him how he made you blush and your heart flutter? How cute he was when his warm coffee fogged his glasses, or how he stuck his tongue out when he was concentrating. How he became in one day the most important person in your life, and how you keep each one of his notes. You never found the courage, too scared to lose the most meaningful little things in your everyday. 

But life is better now. You let yourself admire the bright orange sunset that is engulfing Gotham, making it seems on fire. 

You hear footsteps behind you. You let them approach.

“I didn’t know Gotham could be so beautiful…” 

You say, turning your face, knowing who your eyes are going to meet. 

Eddie’s face is dived in the warm and soft sunlight, highlighting his nose bump and high cheekbones. He looks beautiful. He smiles.

“I guess this city can bring us some unexpected gifts.”

He looks at you and gives you an adorably sweet smile, his signature smile, where his lips makes a C shape and his eyes sparkles.

Your heart skips a bit. You look deep into his eyes, incapable to look away from his genuinely peaceful smile, far away from his usual tense self.

“Uh…”

He starts to blush and looks away.

“I know Josh keeps beers somewhere in the break room…”

He starts picking the skin around his nails.

“Do you wanna… Get one and watch the sunset on the roof? Together, I mean, if that’s ok…” 

The last part of his sentence is barely audible. 

“Oh.”

He looks at you, like a scared puppy. As if what he just said would make you run away.

“I mean, yes! Yes! I would love to, Eddie!”

And Eddie’s smile is back. 

You are surprised that Eddie knows exactly where the beers are - hidden in the fridge behind a fake lunch box - you grab them and follow Eddie to the rooftop.

The sun, between two buildings, gently warms your face. Eddie walks to the end of the roof, you follow him. 

“I used to come here last summer. I like the view.”

Standing next to him, you could see Gotham, light reflecting on buildings window, a fresh breeze caressing your hair, people drinking cocktails after a long day of work. Everyone is enjoying the last summer nights, temporary forgetting about their shitty lives in this shitty city. 

“It’s the first time I come here with a friend… I mean… You’re the only friend I’ve ever had too…”

You look at him. He looks back at you. 

“And I’m here to stay.”

You’ve never seen Eddie have that big of a smile before.

“Thank you.”

You see him hesitate, eyes moving all over your face. 

“Can I… can I hug you?”

You reassure him with a smile.

“Of course.”

You open your arms. He immediately pulls you in a tight hug.

You feel safe. You feel safe in this man’s arms, in this hug where he is towering you with all his body. Like he is trying to be a shield that would protect you, no matter what. You complete each other. He protects you, but you can feel his need. From how tight he holds you, the way that his nose is unconsciously nuzzling in your hair. You found each other. And you will not let him go.

The way he let you go from his arms is as tender as his hug. He looks sorry that he made himself let go of your embrace.

“Do… do you want to drink the beers? Before they get warm.”

“Oh yeah. Sure.”

You say.

He opens the beers and gives you one.

You sit on the roof’s floor and drink beer after beer. Both getting dizzy as the sun slowly disappear behind Gotham. You are having a good time, each one telling fun anecdotes about work or that weird dude that called you everyday thinking you were his dentist to schedule an appointment.

 All night you admire him. The way he is so passionate about little things, how pretty he is when he laughs, how his shyness hides a sweet, caring man, that never, ever was given love but deserves it. He deserves it more than anyone else. You want to give it to him. 

Gotham was now fully engulfed in the dark, the gentle warmth of the sun is now gone. You shiver. Eddie notices. He gives you his jacket. It’s warm and smells like him. Your mind dizzy, you snuggle in and sniff it. You catch Eddie looking at you, mouth slightly open, you can guess the blush on his cheeks.

“You smell really good Eddie.”

You search his eyes but he is desperately trying to hide by looking away.

“I think it’s time for you to go home.” He looks back at you. You can’t place his expression. He looks sad.

“Let me drive you home, I’ll come back tomorrow to get your car.”

You nod, holding your hands towards him when he stands up. He helps you get up, his expression unreadable.

The ride is quiet. Your head empty from the beers you got. The car is gently rocking you, and, nuzzling in Eddie’s vest, surrounded by his smell, you are slowly falling asleep.

Getting out of the car was more difficult than anticipated, good thing that Eddie is holding your hand. The feeling of his warm and soft hand on yours makes you blush. He leads you to your door and let you unlock it, making sure you’re safe and in your apartment.

“I… I guess I should go… Goodnight. And don’t forget to drink water, please.”

His sad expression hasn’t left when he starts walking towards the staircase.

“Eddie! Wait!”

He stops and fixes you, worried.

“Would you spend the night with me?”

[dewdropreader]

3, 5, & 8 for the new years writing ask!! Happy new year :)

3. Do you anticipate writing for a new fandom this year? Which one?

I have no idea! It’s definitely possible but I have no plans for any other fandoms at the moment! I’ve definitely had ideas for other marvel fandoms (especially crossovers with Loki characters but also others being involved) but other than a vague idea I jotted down for Sylvie and Peggy Carter meeting I don’t have any planned fics for other fandoms!

If I had to predict, the only one I could imagine is if my rewatches of Steven Universe allow that show to dig it’s claws back into me lol. I wrote a few snippets for things when I was like 17-18, after I’d stopped writing/posting fics officially but had short little scene ideas I wanted to write down. I adore that show still but I’m not at peak obsession/interest like I am with the Loki fandom! But we’ll see! It’s always possible that something like that (or maybe even season 2 of Our Flag Means Death?!) could inspire me enough to write something else!

5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

I have a few that are first up! The main one is my 5+1 Christmas/New Year fic, I need to finish that soon so it’s not *too* far beyond the holidays lol. I’m a bit over half done and it’s short little sections so hopefully soon! Here’s a little preview!

Sylvie shrugs and starts tearing into the present, the goofy mustache themed wrapping paper being shredded effortlessly. She pulls out a long piece of fabric, bright green and covered in a slightly gaudy combination of gingerbread cookies, candy canes, Santas, snowflakes and reindeer. Holding it up in front of her and shaking it out reveals a long fleece onesie.

Loki gives an exaggerated frown that doesn’t stick as he lets out a laugh. “Shall I guess what mine is?” Loki gestures to his identical package.

“I have one too,” Mobius grins, cheeky and way too proud of himself. He clearly knows that his two much more stylish partners aren’t taken by the loud patterned pajamas, but when he’d seen them at the store he couldn’t resist.

“We’re meant to wear them and, ah, ‘twin’, are we?” Sylvie smirks slightly, her eyebrow raised.

“Triplet, yes. And I have more for the other Lokis when they come over tomorrow. Croki included.”

8. Is there a story idea in your mental vault that you’ve never been brave enough to try writing? Is this the year? Can you tell us about it?

It’s not fully in the vault, as I do have a bunch of notes and planning and even a few snippets for it, but it has been dragged along for a while and beyond what I have on the page there has been an insane amount of just sitting and thinking about it trying to sort it out in my brain and make it click! And that would be my Boastful Loki fic! In the vein of having written origins and/or rescues for the other void Lokis, I’ve wanted to tackle Boastful’s story for so long. I have a whole document of outlines and notes from conversations with people like @insert-witty-user-name-here where we discussed ideas and thoughts, all trying to build to the full fic, but it just hasn’t come together yet. Because we know so little about him (barely a personality beyond a few traits and no backstory) there are so many directions it could go, and I already have the main event that causes his deviation (briefly hinted at in “In the Middle of the Night”) but deciding exactly how I want the story to unfold to make it as impactful and fitting as I want, it’s just not there yet 😅 I hope this is the year it finally gets done!! I’m not sure if it’d be better or worse to finish it before Season 2, it’d be nice to solidify it with my own ideas but there’s a possibility he could show up again and we’d get some canon stories for him 🤔 Ideally I’d like to finish before summer/season 2 but we’ll see lol. Even if not the origin, I do have some plans for Boastful to show up and get some more time to shine in the found family series!!

Thank you for the ask!! ☺️

[archonoftears]

info: modern au! reader receives a package that helps her tease her boyfriend while he’s at work. 

warnings: 18+ smut, slight breeding kink (mentioned), lingerie, phone sex (kinda), pretty vanilla, no penetration, just description, a tiny bit of dom/sub (implied through dialogue)

word count: 1,626

authors note: umm head empty, thoughts only filled with laying in zhonglis bed and teasing him over the phone. i really can’t remove myself from modern au! with ceo daddy zhong. so here we are again. not gonna lie though, i found myself looking at dragon dildos yesterday and now i just wanna write dragon zhongli and sacrificial maiden. so maybe after i finish with the first chapter of my other fic i’ll get right on that. 

ps no beta, i just kinda got this out and edited it once. so sorry if any mistakes or issues.

please thirst with me if you want to!!

Glancing around your dining room table you felt defeated by the amount of packages staring back at you. You were surprised by the latest delivery of clothing you had received for PR from a few high end designers. You knew you shouldn't have been shocked, dating a CEO of a multi million dollar cooperation came with many perks. Yet you never imagined anything like this. Knowing the mess would only stay on the table if you didn’t start tackling it. You began opening up a few packages, finding bags and shoes. Even the latest spring wear from the major brand ‘Liyue Qixing’ sat in a box for you. Before setting your eyes on a more intricate looking box. Opening it to discover some of the most beautiful lingerie you had seen in a long time. Looking at the brand name ‘Scent of Spring’. You didn’t recognize it, but you were quite enamored with the pieces inside.

Forgoing opening any more packages you quickly gathered the items in the box and wandered off to the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend. Selecting a ivory and gold silk longline balconette bra, with matching thong, and harness. The gold tulle flowers that patterned the silk and lace were soft and delicate under your fingers. You couldn’t go a second longer without wearing the beautiful set. Quickly stripping off the clothes you were wearing and slipping on the lingerie. Loving the feel of the soft lace and silk against your skin. Staring at yourself in the mirror. 

‘This lingerie had to be designed by some deity who knew Zhongli’s taste.’ You thought to yourself as you admired the way the balconette bra exposed half of your breast and how the thong straps cut into the flesh of your hip in a sexy way, giving your body a more defined silhouette.

A light bulb went off in your head, walking over to grab your phone and opening the camera app, returning back to the mirror. Posing yourself quite provocative as you snapped several photos, dropping to your knees and taking a few more photos, before flipping through them. A coy smile playing on your lips as you went to call Zhongli.

Zhongli was startled by the sound of his phone ringing on his desk, glancing down to see your contact photo, a smile immediately forming on his face, he swiped to answer.

“Hello (name), is everything alright my dear?” Zhongli greeted as he turned from the documents in front of him and leaned back in his chair. You seldom ever called him when you knew he was going to be in the office all day, preferring to email him if you needed anything so he assumed this must have been important.

“Everything is fine, just calling to see what you were up to.” You greeted over the phone. Zhongli let out a small sigh, relieved that nothing was wrong.

“I’m just preparing for a meeting with Fatui Industries in a little bit.” Zhongli started, glancing at the clock to check the time. “What are you doing today my dear.” He asked, knowing you didn’t have much on your schedule today.

“Well I was going through some packages I received, you know the PR kind. It was mostly clothes from some nice designers.” You hummed, he could hear you twirling your hair in your fingers as you spoke.

“Oh really? Hopefully they sent things that are your style.” 

“That’s why I was calling actually. There was this one package, the clothes are really nice. But I think they’re more to your taste, and I wanted to get your opinion on them.” You confessed. 

“Of course, I can do that when I get home for you if you would like.” Zhongli replied, glancing at the clock noting that he had about 27 minutes until his meeting. “I should be done with work after I meet with Signora and Childe.”

“I’m actually sending you a couple photos right now, please check your email and tell me what you think.” He couldn’t put his finger on it, but you seemed awfully excited about all of this but he complied with your request.

“Of course, one moment.” Opening his email, quickly finding the one from you at the top and opening it, his eyes widening in realization as he enlarged one of several photos in the email. His voice catching in his throat as he examined it.

“Are the clothes to your liking, sir.” You cooed from the other end of the phone, knowing very well they were in fact to his liking. 

“Ms. (Name)..” Zhongli growled quietly.

“Yes sir?” You asked innocently, Zhongli aware of the game you were playing, but nevertheless here he was clicking on the next photo, feeling his pants grow tighter as he continued to view the photos. The one of you on your knees sending more blood rushing to his already aching erection.

“Are you being a good girl right now?” 

“I’m always a good girl Sir.”

“Are you? You don’t look to be acting like a good girl in these photos.”

“Then should I send you some more photos so you make sure I’m being good?” He could feel himself getting riled up just by the implications of what was being said.

“Well… I’ve already sent them so hopefully you don’t mind.”

Not needing to be told twice Zhongli refreshed his email inbox to find a new message. Opening it to discover new attachments. Slowly he clicked the first picture. Finding you not in front of the mirror in the bedroom anymore, but now on the black sateen sheets of the bed the two of you shared. Angling the camera in a way to show how you would look if he had you pinned down. You looked ravishing, from the way you let your cleavage spill out exposing your nipples, to the way you spread your legs. 

The next photo your hand was on one of your breast cupping and pinching the nipple. The next photo was taken lower, your hand was now in your panties clearly teasing yourself. And the final attachment was a video, it was no more than 15 seconds, but in those 15 seconds you show yourself pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, before dragging your fingers out of yourself and licking the wet slick off your digits. Zhongli was taking deep breaths as he watched. His eyes following your every movement.

“Sir…” You moaned, lust lacing every syllable. “Do you think I look like a good girl in those photos?”

Zhongli couldn’t say anything for a moment. Letting the video replay itself over and over, his eyes finding new things to focus on each time it replayed. From the way your plump lips wrapped around your fingers or the way you quivered when you plunged your two digits into yourself. He just wanted to see you do more.

“When did being a good girl equate to acting like quite the little slut? Surely I’ve taught you better than that.” Zhongli replied firmly, as he adjusted the way he was sitting to accommodate his throbbing cock.

“This is what you’ve taught me…” the breathiness of your voice letting him know you were in fact still touching yourself as you replied.

“I don’t recall teaching you to send provocative photos to me while I’m at work.” He glanced at the clock again, 16 minutes until the meeting. Fuck. 

“Did they make you hard?” You asked suddenly.

He was not a liar, so he wouldn’t lie to you. “Yes they did…” 

“Did they make you want to come home and stuff your big. thick. cock inside of me.” The punctionaction of your words were breaking him down.

“Yes they did…”

“Master are you going to come home so I can show you how much of a good girl I am, when I’m milking your cock.”

“My Lily… I-” Zhongli wasn’t used to you being this forward with him.

“I need you to come home and fuck me now. Because if you don’t pump me full of your cum I might go crazy.” You whined your voice working wonders on his resolve. “Please… Please come home and breed me sir.”

One final weak glance at his clock showed he had 9 minutes before they would arrive.

You moaned again calling his name out through the phone, the thread holding his composure together snapping.

“You’re not allowed to cum until I get home do you understand.” Zhongli growled into the phone, quickly on his feet, grabbing his bag and making his way to the door of his office. “Do you understand?”

“Yes sir..!” You exclaimed.

“I hope you understand you won’t be walking for the next few days my Little Lily.” He warned before leaving the safety of his private office.

“Yes yes! Hurry please.” 

“I am.” Quickly saying goodbye and hanging the phone up  with you, while walking towards two approaching figures. 

“Mr. Zhongli goo-” Signora began, reaching her hand out to greet him, but he didn’t meet it.

“My apologies, there seems to be an emergency at home, can you meet with my assistant to reschedule.” Zhongli haphazardly explained. “Again my deepest apologies.” He finished, turning on his heel and b lining it to the exit. Letting the receptionist know that he was leaving and scrambling for the parking garage.

“What do you think his emergency was?” Signora stood bewildered where Zhongli had left her and Childe.

“Do you think everything is alright?

Childe seemed to be having the best laugh of his life as his colleague pondered the obvious.

“Trust me everything’s fine.” Childe said in between laughs. “We should probably reschedule for Monday, he’ll probably need the whole weekend off.”

“This is why I hate partnering with you, you’re too vague sometimes.”

[yellowcabdriver]

love language

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javier wants to love you the right way.

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warning: none

A/N: this was written in like 20 minutes before I went to sleep so sorry in advance for mistakes 🥲 Also, a kiss on a head for those who guesses Javier’s love language I tried to force in here 🥰🤣

“What form of love language do you prefer?”

You raised your head from the paperwork you had been filling out for what seems like an eternity.

“What?”

Elena shook some heavy-looking glossy magazine in her hand.

“There’s a test in here. Wanna find out?”

You went back to filing the report and shrugged your shoulders.

“How many love languages are there anyway?”

“Umm…” Elena quickly flipped through a few pages. “Five.”

Usually, you were not the one to indulge in magazines, especially not at work but… it had been a long day at the embassy. Very long. You spent the first part of the day typing out reports for Noonan, then you had to go to the archive and sew together some old documents in a badly lit backroom in the company of, you were sure of it, a ghost of someone who died in that backroom choking on an ungodly amount of dust. Your back was aching, high heels required by the dress code were straight up slaughtering your feet one step at a time. And also, you were bored out of your mind.

“Wow, okay.” You sighed and plopped down on a chair. “Sure, let’s see. I needed a break anyway.”

With a victorious shriek, Elena started reading out questions and marking the answers down on the pages with a pencil that desperately needed to be sharpened.

“Okay, you got…” her lips inaudibly moved as she was counting the results. “You got words of affirmation.”

“Oh, bullshit!” You threw your head back in sardonic laughter and stretched out your legs. “I don’t enjoy being complemented at all, I always get super uncomfortable!”

Elena shrugged her shoulders as she was erasing her pencil notes from the magazine.

“Maybe you do, somewhere deep down.”

“Nope, not a chance,” you snickered. “Your magazine is full of lies.”

“Hey!” Jokingly offended, Elena hugged the magazine to her chest. “It’s my only entertainment in this lifeless pile of paper!”

“What did you get then?” You asked, propping your cheek with your palm making you sound all muffled.

“Acts of service.”

“Well then, I’ll tell David to serve you up real nice.”

An enemy missile in the form of a crumpled piece of paper landed on your table.

“Oh screw you!”

“What’s the hustle?”

Elena and you immediately straightened up at the voice of a visitor who, upon further inspection, turned out to be your boyfriend, Javier.

“It’s just me, not Noonan,” he raised his palms slowly walking to your table as you two relaxed into your previous positions. Javier sat down at the edge of your table next to your chair and leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, this was his way of saying hello.

“Are you ready to go home?” He asked. Boy, were you ever.

“Of course, I am. So tired,” you complained suppressing a yawn. Javier smiled, soothingly stroking your hand.

“Let’s just go home, they don’t even pay us any overtime anyway,” Elena muttered, shooting a resentful stare at the piles of documents in front of her.

“By the way,” Javier turned to look at Elena. “David is downstairs, I think you’re gonna catch up.”

These words were enough for Elena to throw away her magazine, which honour she was just defending by violating a Geneva Convention of friendship, and bolt out of office without further ado. You and Javier looked at each other in amusement and burst into laughter at the same time.

“We should also go.”

“Yep, let’s go home.”

Nominally, “home” was Javier’s apartment, it was closer to the office and was overall much nicer than your place. Driving down the familiar street—the next turn after that yellow house, you were thinking, is home—Javier put his hand on your lap and asked you:

“Why were you arguing with Elena? Did she do something to you?”

“Oh, she did, she Inflicted the pain of knowing the content of a beauty magazine,” you half-heartedly complained, enjoying the warmth of Javier’s large hand on your thigh. Javier grinned at your remark.

“That harsh, huh?”

“We were just bored and decided to take a dumb test from the magazine.”

Javier chuckled as he quickly glanced at you, his yellow aviators catching a glimpse of the setting sun.

“About what?”

“Something about love language.”

“And what about it?”

“Well, found out that my love language is apparently words of affirmation.”

The car slowly stopped in the driveway as you reached Javier’s apartment building.

“Really?” He smiled at you, kissing the back of your hand. You almost melted at the gesture of his casual affection.

“Yes, who would’ve thought, right?”

Javier laughed again, exiting the car and jogging to your side to open the door for you. You jumped down and placed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth as a thank you.

“So it means you need to hear words of affirmation every day? Like your Cleo?” Javier asked, locking the car doors and turning slightly to look at you with a smile. You snorted. “Your Cleo” was a plant sitting comfortably on a windowsill of your office. She was a dying little thing until you saved her from being literally abused in the dark hallway of the embassy. Once you got her into a well-lit room and started watering her properly with actual water and not residue 3-in-1 coffee, Cleo turned into a stunning blooming beauty. You did talk to her, mostly paying her compliments—yes, weird, but you read somewhere that plants responded to positive affirmation. Javier, of course, didn’t believe any of that but for you, and he highlighted that specifically, he would greet Cleo every now and then when he entered your and Elena’s office.

“I am not like Cleo!” You huffed, making Javier smile as he hugged you by your waist and you two started walking towards his apartment. “But I believe everyone flourishes under kind words, don’t you think?”

Javier opened the door to his place and let you enter first.

“That’s a fair point, hermosa.”

The evening went by as it usually did: you two ate a dinner that Javier quickly put together—you maybe were a better cook but a slow one, for sure. Then you went to put Javier’s clothes into a washing machine, a dreadful loud thing that was tumbling around so hard you were afraid it would explode, while Javier washed the dishes. Finally, you two settled on the coach to watch some classic evening telenovelas because nothing relaxes a person more than an intricate plot of a tv show where somehow everyone ends up being everyone’s relative.

You were very engulfed in an episode—main character shot a man who turned out to be her biological father,—when Javier quietly asked:

“Am I saying enough compliments to you?”

“What?” You let out an involuntary laughter but as you turned to look at Javier, he didn’t seem to be joking.

“You said your preferred love language is words of affirmation and I’m… cariño, you know I’m not good with words,” Javier let out a bitter chuckle rubbing his temple—a nervous habit. “Am I showing you enough love?”

Oh.

Oh.

That you didn’t expect.

You turned the volume down and quickly climbed on Javi’s lap. He uncomfortably glanced up at the ceiling with a vulnerability you never saw him exude before. You could see something you would believe was more of your thing—an insecurity of being not enough.

“Javi, please, look at me,” you took his face in your hands and he immediately left a quick kiss on your palm, like a reflex.

God, that man was gonna be the death of you.

“Javi, my love, I never said anything about my preferences, it was just a dumb magazine. And besides, I don’t need to hear compliments, you know I can’t even take them well!” you said causing Javier knowingly to raise his eyebrows in agreement. Your left hand found its way to the back of his head and into his soft curls making Javier groan quietly.

“I love you so much and I love your ways of showing affection. I feel loved, if anything I feel adored.” You let your right index finger trace his aquiline nose and Javier closed his eyes at your tender touch. You began to press soft kisses all over his face.

“You love me so well, Javier Peña. You are so caring, so wonderful, so handsome, and sooooo sexy…” you exhaled as your kisses reached his jaw and you felt him smile. “I love you, Javi. So so much.”

Javier opened his eyes and pulled you in for a proper kiss.

“I love you, too, mi corazon,” his hands gently squeezing your thighs.

As this gesture pressed you closer, you felt the tightness in his jeans. Jokingly widening your eyes you glanced down, between your bodies, as Javier offered you a shy boyish grin.

“Ohh, but I see that someone else’s love language is definitely words of affirmation.”

Javier’s hands slid under your shirt and tightened around your waist as he began to leave open-mouthed kisses on your neck prompting you to let out a shamelessly loud moan.

“Oh yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that,” he softly said, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “I really love to hear your praise, mi amor.”

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

[heyitssmiller]

Bewitched, Body and Soul

So... this happened. Blame the Discord. Basically, the premise is receiving a note from a stranger about having similar tastes in books, and my first thought was Finn/Leo. And now, around 24 hours later, this showed up in my word document. Hope y’all like it!! And don’t worry, I’ve already got a sequel planned with Logan ;)

All characters, of course, belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

And, if you’re so inclined, check out my Masterlist if you enjoy this story! <3

CW: food/drink

.

Leo loved this bookstore. There was a west-facing windowfront that allowed all sorts of afternoon light to shine through, creating a large, warm sunspot right in Leo’s favorite armchair. The shelves were always neatly organized by category, there was a featured book of the week, and there was a coffee shop sequestered to one corner of the building. What else did he need in life? He’d spent countless hours here, sitting with a new book and a cup of coffee or tea and getting lost in whatever world he’d been transported to within the crisp pages and black ink. Being new to the city, there were probably better ways to make friends, but there was something so soothing, so comfortingly familiar about shutting off the worry in his mind and just focusing on the story unfolding in his hands.

But when his stomach growled loudly in protest, he figured he needed to put reading on hold.

There was a wrinkled, jagged-edged scrap of paper sitting on top of Leo’s book when he returned to his table, café pastry in hand. It hadn’t been there a second ago. Curiously, Leo set his food down and inspected the foreign paper. Messy, inelegant scrawl slanted across the page in deep blue ink. The lines were uneven and chaotic; the i’s weren’t even dotted, almost as if it took too much effort to go back and add them in. Leo found it strangely endearing. It read:

           Hi!

           I don’t think we’ve met, but based on your choice of literature I think we would make great friends. :)

-        Carrot Top

Leo smiled, read it again, and looked around for the person who sent it but no one acknowledged him, seemingly lost in stories of their own. So he sat there, a smile still on his face as he got back to his book, using the note as a bookmark.

~~~

Finn couldn’t help himself when, a few days later, he left another note after seeing the guy with good taste in books again at the bookstore. He was at what must have been his usual table, seemingly right where Finn had left him. The only difference besides the clothes he was wearing was the book he was reading. Finn let himself linger on his profile, just for a second – the gentle slope of his nose, the way his curls rested against his forehead, how bright blue eyes scanned the pages below him.

Finn wasn’t one for love at first sight; that was for romance novels only. But instant attraction? Oh yeah. He was definitely there.

He picked up a small flyer from the front desk, flipped it over, and began to write.

And maybe it wasn’t a good way of, as the kids said these days, “shooting his shot”. But it was a start. And it was fun – the thrill of trying not to get caught, the anonymity. Sure, one day he’d maybe get up the courage to talk to him in person, but he was happy with this for now.

           Hmm… haven’t read that one. Might have to get myself a copy!

-        The Walking Freckle

After dropping the note off while the blond walked off to take a phone call, Finn tried to act casual as he stared sightlessly down at his own book instead of over at the cute stranger like he desperately wanted to.

Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious…

If he was being completely honest, he didn’t really know where to go from here. Did the blond think the notes were creepy? Or weird? He never seemed to mind much, but… well, a stranger was repeatedly leaving notes for him. What if it was making him uncomfortable? Would it make things better or worse if Finn introduced himself?

A snort came out, unbidden. Yeah. Right. That would go well. Finn could practically see it now: he would be clumsy and awkward, probably spilling coffee all over the guy’s book or – even worse – all over him. He’d scare him off for sure.

But at the same time, Finn wanted nothing more than to meet him. To sit down across the table from him and debate the points of the book he was reading, or give book recommendations, or just talk. About literally anything. Finn wasn’t a picky guy. He could sit there and let him speak for hours, absorbing any and all knowledge about him like a sponge. Did the corners of those bright, blue eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Did his cheeks get all flushed when he was passionate about something, just like Finn’s? What was the story behind the soft-looking tuft of gray hair at his temple?

Who was he?

Finn was overflowing with questions, and desperate for the answers.

But he needed to go about this the right way, didn’t he? The last thing he wanted to do was screw this up. So he closed his book, propped his chin in his hand so that he could stare out the window, and started to plan.

~~~

The next note threw Leo for a bit of a loop. He’d saved his table with his coat thrown over one of the chairs and went up to the New Books section, surreptitiously keeping an eye on his table and hoping that he’d catch his note-sender red-handed.

Leo could’ve sworn that he’d looked away for half a second, but – well, he got distracted by a book, so it easily could’ve been five minutes for all he knew. This note was written on one of the café napkins, the ink bleeding through in some spots and a few small tears in the delicate material.

Nice choice! That book absolutely shattered my heart and then pieced it back together. The way she writes love lost just hurts so beautifully, doesn’t it?

I like your sweater by the way.

Fuck I hope that’s not creepy.

I’m not a stalker, I promise. I just think you’re really cute. And you have amazing taste in books. I’d like to learn more, if you’d let me. :)

But first, you have to figure out who I am! Good luck!

-        Your Not-So-Secret Admirer in the Tortoiseshell Glasses

He smiled, wide and happy, and looked around for tortoiseshell glasses, red hair, and freckles. Those were the only three clues he had so far. So he quickly scanned the crowded café, looking for anyone who fit the description. The only one even close was a freckled, redheaded guy at the corner table, but no glasses.

That was a shame, too. He was stunning.

The mystery bibliophile must already be gone, then. Or hiding.

Looked like Leo had his work cut out for him. He did always like a challenge.

~~~

It probably wasn’t Finn’s best idea to take his glasses off. He couldn’t see a damn thing and was left squinting down at his book, trying to determine if what he was seeing was an F or a P.

That smile, though… he could’ve seen that dimpled smile from all the way across the street.

He never thought he’d be pining for a stranger like this, but then again – he wasn’t a complete stranger, was he? After all, you could learn a lot about a person by their book preferences. Finn wasn’t normally known for being a good judge of character – he was too optimistic, too unwilling to see the bad in people. But damn, did he hope he was right about this one.

~~~

Finn had probably been too bold with the note he’d just dropped off, but when he’d seen what book that his new maybe-friend was reading, he knew he couldn’t just pass up an opportunity like that.

He didn’t wait to see the reaction this time – he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He just left the short note on top of the book while the blond was at the café counter and booked it (pun definitely intended) out of there as fast as he could.

           You have bewitched me, body and soul. <3

-        Bambi

~~~

He should’ve waited. Leo’s reaction, all bashful smile and bright red face and pleased expression, would’ve been worth it.

~~~

Leo went back to the bookstore pretty much every day after that, intent on finding this person. Not only was this a fun little game they were playing, but it would be nice to finally have a friend in the city. He still didn’t know anyone besides his coworkers and… well, he was a little lonely. A friend would be nice, especially one who had a shared interest in books.

The only thing left to do was to find them.

Red hair, freckles, glasses, and big doe eyes.

Leo looked for the only four defining traits he had, methodically starting in the front of the store and weaving through isle after isle of bookshelves. When that proved unsuccessful he moved on to the café, gaze landing on the queue first before lurching to a stop at the glimpse of a shock of auburn hair in the far corner booth. Heart hammering in his chest, Leo used his height to his full advantage and peered over the line of people.

Freckles, Glasses, Big, doe eyes.

If he needed any more confirmation, the stranger – the very cute stranger – was reading the same book Leo had been reading a week ago. The one his anonymous friend said they hadn’t read yet.

It had to be him.

Leo didn’t let himself think about it too much – he knew he’d panic if he did. He just strode over and sat down across from him, setting his book down on the table with a quiet thud. The note-writer jumped a little, then lifted wide brown eyes to look up at him.

Oh, but he was gorgeous.

“So what part are you at?” Leo asked, eyes taking in everything they could now that he was close enough – that messy red hair that just barely curled at the ends, the hint of scruff on his jaw, brown eyes shifting from shade to shade in the afternoon light filtering through the window beside him. Soft, mesmerizing lips curved into the beginnings of a smile that Leo couldn’t help but be transfixed by. “Have you gotten to the part where Patroclus dies?”

Finn stared back, trying to look horrified but he knew he was smiling so much that they counteracted each other because, finally, he’d figured it out. “I can’t believe you’d break rule number one of having a reading buddy: don’t spoil the ending.”

Dimples.

“Oops.”

Finn was done for.

“I’m Finn,” he managed to stammer, aiming for his best smile and probably looking like he’d just tasted something awful instead.

“Leo,” his companion said with a warm smile. Then he frowned. “Wait, no. Go back. You can’t spoil the ending of a story that’s literally thousands of years old.” The blond leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee and watching in amusement as Finn gaped at him in horror. He could feel his cheeks and ears getting red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“That’s so not the point!”

Leo laughed, then motioned for Finn to state his case. And then Finn was off, forgetting all about his nervousness and tendency to be awkward. He ranted about that topic for… well, he didn’t really know how long, but it was a while. Leo didn’t even bat an eye, keeping pace well and interjecting with his own points calmly and collectedly – the gentle breeze to Finn’s tornado. He was smiling, too, even though sometimes he tried to hide it behind the rim of his coffee cup. And he was smart, Finn learned as they jumped from one topic to the next and the minutes ticked by. He knew a lot about literature, like Finn, but he could also make these random connections to all kinds of different topics that Finn would’ve never thought of, all while keeping up with Finn’s fast-paced brain and tendency to jump down rabbit holes.

It was an instant connection, the likes of which Finn had never experienced before. It was intoxicating. Finn felt like he could never get enough.

During a lull in between one conversation and the next, Leo pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over, looking suddenly and inexplicably shy. Finn cocked his head confusedly, then unfolded the paper and looked down.

           Would you like to go on a date sometime?

PS: I’m free tonight if you are. :)

-        The Guy Who’s Been Crushing on You for Weeks

Finn’s heart threatened to burst. “Absolutely.” He hesitated, just for a second, then decided to go for it. “Are you free now? I know a pretty great café nearby.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he jerked his thumb at the bookstore café and earned a laugh. He wondered what he could do to earn another.

“Sounds perfect.”

They walked over to the counter together, the backs of their hands just barely brushing – it was still enough to make Finn hyperaware of every miniscule movement and get his pulse hammering. Leo was teasing Finn for his terrible eyesight in a soft, southern drawl – something Finn definitely wasn’t expecting but sure as hell wasn’t complaining about, his fingers deliberately playing with Finn’s now, and Finn knew it was going to be a good night. It was already a good night; how could it possibly get any better?

“What can I get for you?”

Leo and Finn looked up at the barista and their eyes widened in tandem as they took in thick chestnut waves, long, dark lashes, and bottle-green eyes. He wasn’t smiling, not necessarily. His expression was fairly neutral, all things considered – except for those eyes. If you stared at then long enough, you could see just the faintest whisper of amusement.

They both looked down slightly, searching for a nametag. There, in bold black letters, read:

Logan.

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.5

Another few good weeks passed before they heard from their so-called goddess, gone who knows where. Not that anyone would ever question her absences, even the lords knew better than to stick their noses in her business.

When Nicole found herself once again following Emma through blue-lit underground corridors, there was an odd determination in her strides. She wanted to figure out what the hell was going on with her and Miranda, if nothing else, was a scientist who above all loved solving an equation. And what else could her situation be described as if not an intricate equation with a bit fat X as her missing factor.

She was right in thinking that Miranda would find her issue of interest, as when she finally brought it up the woman furrowed her brows and turned to face her, a clipboard grabbed from a nearby table.

“And there was nobody else?”

“No. Just me, Cassandra, the pharmacist and some guy that came for his medicine,” Nicole answered with a barely contained huff.

“What for?” Miranda tapped her pen against the paper in anticipation, a clear sign that she may be onto something and was only putting together some puzzle pieces that nobody but her could see.

Nicole had to dig through her memories for a moment. “An infection. At least that’s what the pharmacist mentioned.”

Miranda hummed and scribbled something else. There was no point in trying to decipher what exactly, the woman had the handwriting of two drunk doctors put together. How very fitting for her.

Without another word, she was on her feet, unbuttoned lab coat flowing after her the same way her black robes did when in goddess mode. “Follow me. I want to test something.”

And what else was she supposed to do really?

Quick steps took them down the hallways, black stone walls surrounding them and taking on an odd shine under the unnatural neon lights above. At least Nicole didn’t have to jog for once, Miranda not being that much taller than her.

The journey was short and they reached their destination quickly, which seemed to be a door not unlike the one belonging to the lab they had just vacated, except this one had the number 24 engraved on a small plaque on it. Miranda pushed it open to reveal a small hospital looking room, four beds divided by grey curtains but only one seemed to be occupied, a sleeping woman hooked to a heart monitor whose rhythmic beeping caused some memories to resurface in Nicole's mind.

Those memories however were quickly pushed down by a sudden burst of nausea at the decaying smell that seemed to forcefully crawl its way down her throat. Nicole all but slapped a hand to her face and turned around in a pathetic attempt to block out the overwhelming sensation. Some blood also started to trickle down her face and past trembling fingers, although thankfully not an ungodly amount like before.

By some mercy of well… herself, Miranda didn't stop her when she decided to do a wobbly turn and hastily exit the room. She followed Nicole out and observed as she slumped against a wall, pulling a tissue from a pocket to wipe at her face.

"What… the fuck," Nicole breathed out.

"Was that the same as before?" Miranda's eyes were full of a weird kind of glee that could only belong to a mad scientist. Not that that would be an inaccurate description for the woman.

Nicole only nodded, trying to get her face on a more presentable level before speaking again. "Is she-..."

Miranda scoffed. "Are you deaf? I can assure you the woman is quite alive," she responded with an eye roll.

The soft beeping monitoring the heartbeat could be heard faintly from behind the closed door, so her words had to hold some truth to them. Though her intentions were still shrouded in mystery.

"Then why the hell does she smell like that?"

"She doesn't," came the nonchalant reply and it had Nicole almost seething.

Is your ego stuffed up your nose, is what she wished she could snap and say, but she knew better.

If Miranda noticed the daggers in her eyes, she paid them no mind. Instead she noted something down on the paper precariously attached to the clipboard she got a hold of before exiting the lab they had been in previously. When she finished, she simply motioned for Nicole to follow and continued further down the hallway, without a second glance.

She only stopped once to exchange a few words with an unfamiliar assistant on the whereabouts of certain patients. Patiens. Why would Miranda keep any sort of patients down there?

Before she had time to dwell on it, Miranda pushed another door open, this time leading to another corridor dimly lit by strategically placed torches. Apparently nobody bothered to get electricity to this particular part of the underground maze of tunnels, the warm light so pleasant on the eyes as opposed to the harsh neons of the previous area. The tunnel was also long, way too long for it to be an often used path, especially given how awfully humid the air was becoming. Nicole tried to take a mental note of where they were heading, squinting her eyes in an effort to imagine what was above them, but with how convoluted the tunnels down there were, it was fruitless.

After maybe fifteen minutes of walking, awkward silence -at least awkward on her part, Miranda didn't seem to care- only broken by the echo of steps and the soft sounds of crackling fire from the torches, the tunnel ended in what looked to be a far too modern stairwell. Nicole had to pause for a second, looking at the unnerving contrast where dark ancient stone gave way suddenly to gray concrete and steel, going up in sharp angles and blocking the view to whatever laid above. The overall architecture did look vaguely familiar though, but Miranda didn't seem to have the patience for sightseeing as she quickly started walking up the stairs.

At the top of the staircase stood a steel door that was quickly unlocked to finally reveal a place that Nicole recognized. She blinked rapidly in surprise, all but freezing in the doorway at the sight of the hospital corridor she had walked down on so many times before, complete with a handful of nurses discussing in a corner. She shook her head and slowly followed the woman, not wanting to remain behind. It didn't take long before they came across the one person Miranda was apparently searching for.

"M- Mother Miranda," Salvatore's voice came in an oddly high pitch, at least for him, when he almost crashed with her in his hurry to get somewhere.

"Moreau," Miranda greeted with a nod and unreadable expression. "I need the documents on each of your patients and where they're staying." Straight to business apparently.

He simply nodded and moved his attention to one of the nurses standing nearby, instructing him to finish whatever task he was supposed to before their arrival. The man moved rigidly, painfully aware of Miranda's presence. Then, Moreau led them to his office, starting to pull out a consistent number of files from a large bookcase.

His office was, unsurprisingly, a mess aside from the one place he held the documents keeping track of all his current patients, complete with a few books and office supplies haphazardly placed on the desk. A few spare white coats were hanging just by the door, together with a long and worn leather jacket that he often times wore when outside the building. A familiar string of bones was also peeking from one of its pockets, nowadays worn as a necklace since, after the effects of his mutation were lessened, he found the crown quite unsightly.

"Are you coming by anytime soon," his voice came from behind, snapping her out of her exploration. "We could use a hand sometimes."

Nicole turned to give him a polite smile. "I may, but I have some things to get out of the way for now."

A glance in Miranda's direction revealed the woman hunched over the documents on the desk, writing down a list with the aid of whatever she was reading. They could do some small talk for the time being.

"How have you been," Nicole asked, turning to him again.

She and Salvatore were on quite friendly terms ever since she started occasionally helping out in the hospital that he was in charge of. Not that they had much time to ever hang out, but the few times they did, it's always been a pleasant interaction among colleagues.

"Some days are better than others," he responded with half a shrug.

Judging by the deep purplish circles under his eyes, today wasn't particularly stellar. He was slightly hunched, whether it was out of habit from a time when sitting straight was quite impossible or from tiredness, she couldn't tell.

"Any news from the castle?" He asked with a chuckle. He was rarely welcomed in Alcina's home so the curiosity wasn't unwarranted.

Nicole shrugged. "Same old same old. Bleeding out prisoners, stopping Daniela from breaking vases and all that boring pseudo nobility stuff."

He let out a quiet laugh. "Nobility? Should I start calling you my lady?"

Nicole snorthed, giving his shoulder a small shove that didn't make him move in the slightest.

Their joking banter was interrupted by Miranda all but shoving her way in between them and out the door, calling for her to follow. With a small wave, Nicole was quickly after her, falling in step just slightly behind the other woman. Though it was a small building after all, so it didn't take long to reach the first door on Miranda's list.

"I want you to tell me exactly what you feel," she flatly told Nicole while pushing the door open.

She frowned, eyes slightly narrowed in confusion and glued to Miranda's back as she stepped inside the small room after the woman.

Any incredulous question died on her tongue when she seemed to be yanked back in time, to the yearly family trips her father insisted they all go on. It was to a relative, or family friend, Nicole couldn't quite recall, who owned an old cabin near a lake. Problem was, the lake was always murky and full of algae, the water gaining an unpleasant scent under the August sun. She and Alex never tried swimming.

"Well?" Mirada raised an eyebrow, impatient.

Nicole scrunched up her nose, both wanting and desperately trying not to take a deeper breath. "Pond water? The kind of water that's stagnant and muddy in summer, full of dead fish and weeds."

She tried not to fidget, her mind running a thousand miles an hour. The so-called goddess seeming completely uninterested in shedding light on what the hell they were doing was not of much help either. A frustrated sigh threatened to escape when another person spoke up.

"Doctor?" A meek voice came from the only bed in the room, from a young woman who seemed asleep when they had walked in. She looked between the two of them confused and with squinted eyes.

Miranda simply raised a hand, not even sparing the girl a glance. "Pay us no mind, we're only here to check on something. We'll be on our way in a moment."

Nicole couldn't help the confused look she threw the girl's way. Was she not recognizing the woman this whole town worshipped? An amused snort almost escaped her but she knew better. Besides, who could really blame her? Mirada was wearing an oversized lab coat, blonde hair held back in a ponytail and there was no trace of the makeup that usually accompanied her ceremonial robes and mask.

Not that Nicole had time to appreciate the odd humanity of Miranda's outfit, as the woman turned on her heels and exited the room as soon as she was done writing. She was starting to grow annoyed with the uncooperative and know-it-all attitude, but decided against voicing any opinions and settled for following along to the next door.

It kept on being a rinse and repeat of the first room, only variables being the patients inside and her answers. Sometimes the change wasn't too obvious, maybe just a more metallic undertone or a new faint smell latching onto her senses, like the sickly sweet aroma of honey. A handful of times though she had to all but slap a hand over her face to not be overwhelmed by the enveloping stench. One room in particular made her almost stumbled backwards and out the door, when a strong metallic smell contrasting the accompanying one of decomposition hit her like a slap in the face. The man inside, who was evidently not doing particularly well, didn't seem appreciative of the apparently crazy woman coming in and rudely interrupting his rest.

Nicole didn't look forward to lingering around by that point, but there was one more room to check.

They pushed open the door, and the familiar stinging scent of decay immediately overtook her senses, seeming to latch on to the very inside of her throat. A small rivulet of blood also started dripping down her face, and Nicole quickly pulled out a paper tissue from her pants pocket to press against her nostrils. It was both to stop the bleeding and to shield her senses from the smell.

Once outside, Nicole was trying to catch her breath while Miranda was simply writing something down. Another set of steps approached them, who turned out to be Moreau coming to check on their findings. Upon being given the clipboard to read -he could actually decipher her chicken scratch, really?- he let out a curious hum.

"I need to go over John Abbott's file and compare them," Miranda started, clicking her pen and putting it back into her pocket. "I'll send an assistant after it later." Then she looked her way and waved a hand dismissively. "You're free to go, I'll send Emma after you when you're needed."

Nicole blinked, dumbfounded, her voice coming out harsher than she probably should've allowed it to be. "That's all? What did you find?"

The exasperated edge in her voice did not go unnoticed nor was it appreciated. Miranda rolled her eyes slightly and gave her an answer. "You can distinguish illnesses by smell. We'll do a more comprehensive test and list, but for now we have enough to say that's how the Mold manifested with you," Miranda explained, half turned away and ready to leave.

And she did turn to leave as soon as she was finished. With a nod towards Salvatore, she made her way back down the hospital corridor and presumably towards the passageway that led back to her lab.

Nicole wasn't particularly keen on going down there again if she could help it, so she instead stuck by Salvatore's side as they walked back to his office.

That day wasn't the first time Nicole had entered that room, so the fact that it also served as some kind of archive did not go past her. The office itself was decently sized, and even had a storage room attached to it with the sole purpose of keeping old files that may be important but Miranda didn't need at hand. Although, in all honesty, Salvatore wasn't particularly skilled in keeping everything organized. That's what my secretary is for, he would say, ignoring the fact that Miranda would gut anyone who touched those documents if they weren't part of the small group of people she deemed worthy. Therefore, the files were a mess, the only saving grace being that he at least had the foresight of organizing them by decade.

With a sigh, he started looking through the binders all but stuffed on one of the many shelves. Nicole sat down at his desk, occupying herself with a crayon that she started twisting around her fingers absent mindedly. There was some semblance of relief in finally figuring out what had so cruelly changed in her body, and what an ironic twist of fate said change was. To have spent years pouring over books learning about the illnesses that now were recognizable by something as simple as an acidic smell of blood. On the other hand though, the knowledge that Miranda had a tendency to find some kind of use for all her experiments left a sensation of dread slowly making its way into the deepest crannies of her chest, where a certain parasite had burrowed and made a nest for itself.

"Mind if I call the castle, I don't really feel like walking all the way back," she asked, eyes settling on the phone pushed to the side by a couple books and scattered pens.

"Sure," he responded without moving from where he was pulling out papers, only to shove them back inside their folders when they weren't the correct ones.

Her hands hovered over the keys for a moment. She wasn't about to call Alcina's personal phone to ask for a ride, heavens no. The phone in Carolina's study, where the Constable would spend her time when not in the stables, would be the best choice if only she could remember the number from memory. Nicole decided that the one in the main hall was the best next thing, where one of the guards at the entrance would probably hear the ringing and answer.

She dialed the number and listened to the typical ringing sound once, twice, until she thought nobody was actually around, but at last, a voice came from the other end.

"Alo?"

Nicole took a moment to recognize the voice as Dalia's, the head chambermaid.

"Hey, it's Nicole," she started toying with the pencil again. "I'm at the hospital, can you send Carolina with a horse to pick me up?" She sensed the slight hesitation on the other woman's side and thought to clarify. "I'm not injured, just with Moreau."

She heard a slight exhale from the other end of the line and had to entertain the thought of whether the woman was relieved due to genuine concern for her wellbeing, or she was well aware of how irritable her wife could be. Her being injured definitely made its way on the list of things that would bring out the anger and cruelty carefully crafted over almost a century.

Before hanging up the phone, she sighed and thought better of her request. "Actually, tell Cassandra to come."

She could almost feel the slight grimace from Dalia at being asked to go talk to the most sadist of the sisters, and with a request no less. Oh well, there's to hoping that Cassandra wouldn't be too peeved at said request coming from her wife.

She hung up after hearing an of course, my lady.

With a way to get back home without having to do the trek on foot assured, she leaned back in the chair, watching Salvatore continue on his search. He was standing with his hands on his hips, eyebrows pulled into a frown that slightly wrinkled the already rough skin of his forehead. He looked almost as if he resorted to glaring at the piles of papers, hoping that enough intimidation would scare the right file into jumping into his hands.

It almost made Nicole snort, were it not for the curiosity that both acted as a distraction and pleaded to get some more answers. "So, who's this… Jack Abbott?"

"John Abbott," he corrected without tearing his eyes from the shelf in front of him. He grimaced then. "He was one of Mother Miranda's earlier experiments, and had a very similar mutation to yours."

At that Nicole's eyebrows shot up past the low line of her fringe, interest successfully piqued. She turned in her seat to fully face him, one arm thrown over the back of the chair. When he didn't continue talking, instead pulling out one of the last binders on the shelf labeled 1930's, she impatiently prodded for more information. "And?"

Moreau pulled a face, probably wondering if he was even supposed to talk about it. It didn't take long for him to let out a defeated sigh, the demand to play dumb were Miranda to ever ask about this going unspoken, but more than understood. "Same thing as you really. He could tell what illness someone had by a specific smell, down to the nasty nose bleeds whenever it got too much," he started, noticing a few drops of blood that had dried on her upper lip.

He turned back to pulling out the very last binder dedicated to that decade and relaxed his posture ever so slightly when he saw JOHN ABBOTT written in big letters and black ink on one file. Another frown tugged his cracked lips downward, the information written in such a clinical way only mudding the memory of the frail man he had briefly met so many decades ago. "His body took well to the Cadou until… well ,until it didn't. I don't know what went wrong, but his body just rejected it at one point and he died being slowly consumed by the infection."

At that Nicole's face fell, dread now overtaking her usual curiosity. He must've noticed, for his next words came the slightest bit rushed and with a strained kind of reassurance that wasn't convincing to either of them.

"It may very well not be connected."

Nicole almost scoffed, not at him but at the situation at hand. The hand holding the pencil was tense and, had she not been as weak as she was, the wood would've probably cracked by then. "Did you know him?"

With a slight shake of his head, he answered, not a negation but more a gesture of pity. "Barely. I was brought here only after he started," he narrowed his eyes at a wall somewhere behind Nicole trying to find the right word. He didn't. "...deteriorating."

That was about as much as her brain wanted to know at the moment, letting a heavy silence fill the space for endlessly too long. She was caught in her own thoughts that started to twist and turn into countless what ifs. Thoughts that crashed to a halt when a nurse knocked on the half open door to announce her presence.

"Lady Cassandra is waiting outside," she told Nicole, expression pulled in a poker face that could only belong to someone who had to deal with her wife and tried to seem unbothered. Tried and failed.

Nicole sprung to her feet, circling the desk and about to make her exit when he called out. "Take care of yourself," Moreau told her, looking up from the papers he was reading.

Her lips turned slightly upwards into a smile. "You too." And then she left, rapid pace taking her through off-white hallways and slight smells that she was now painfully aware of.

Stepping outside was a breath of fresh air in more ways than one, the orange hue of the setting sun welcoming her after the hours passed under the harsh lab lights. How ironic was her hatred for the damned neon lights, when not too long ago she would've gladly spent her life under their bluish glow.

Even better than the warm sun on her skin, was the sight of Cassandra, dressed in her usual riding attire and absent mindedly scratching the furry muzzle of one of the castle's Clydesdale horses. A big beast of a horse, black and white with its feathery legs that, Nicole realized with an eye roll, she wouldn't dream of getting on without help.

Her pace quickened until she found herself embraced by a pair of strong arms, the stable smell mixed with Cassandra's cologne filling her senses with something finally pleasant. She didn't let go until she felt a gentle kiss placed on top of her auburn hair.

"Darling," Cassandra greeted her once she pulled back, gloved hand coming to rest on a pale cheek. "How are you?"

Nicole sighed and pushed into the touch, the kind of tiredness that could only be felt after a day spent bending over backwards to every one of Miranda's whims settling into her bones. "Ready to go back home."

Cassandra simply nodded once and moved her hands on her hips, getting a good enough grip before picking Nicole up to where her foot could reach the stirrup so she could pull herself up. Her wife decided that climbing in the saddle was below her at the moment, choosing instead to turn into a swarm, only to retake her human form a mere second later, on the horse's back, her front comfortably against Nicole's back. With a few taps of her boot against the stirrup still occupied by Nicole's foot in a silent demand to let her guide the horse, she took a hold of the reins and they finally started moving down the stone paved road.

There was no complaint on Nicole's part, taking it as a good opportunity to sit back and enjoy the ride, pressed to her wife's chest.

A few eternally long minutes were spent absentmindedly scratching the horse's muscular neck, where short black fur met the mane held in a beautifully done french braid, that only their Constable could pull so seamlessly. A few long minutes spent mulling over what she had found out, thoughts twisting cruelly with every worst case scenario her mind could conjure. Had she made a mistake? Was the infection a mistake to begin with? How cruel could fate be sometimes. Back in New York she had come to terms with a meaningless life, the only truly important thing she had amounted to at that point being choosing a career path to spite her father. But now, after finding a place to call home where she ached to stay to the point of seeking eternity for it, the very thing that could allow her to remain there forever could also take her life away, miserably so.

"What's wrong?"

Cassandra's voice snapped her back to reality, so much so that she even shook her head a couple times to chase away the lingering thoughts. She gave an inquisitive hum in an attempt to play dumb. The attempt was met with an incredulous eye roll.

"You're quiet," she simply responded.

"I'd think spending decades with Daniela would make you appreciate quiet people," Nicole jokingly threw back.

"Not you," came the reply, one hand leaving the reins and coming to rest on her thigh. "I love hearing you talk, even when you're blabbering about proper medical technique."

At that Nicole let out a light gasp, turning around with mild offence written in her eyes. She couldn't find anything to retaliate with for once, setting instead for giving her wife a slight shove with her elbow, that only elicited a laugh.

She shook her head and let out a sigh. "We did figure out what's with the damned nosebleeds." At a curious hum and Cassandra's chin coming to rest on top of her head, she went on. "Apparently I can distinguish illnesses by smell. Now that would've been useful during med school," she finished with a bitter laugh.

Her wife responded with a snort. "If I were Daniela, I'd say you're joking to hide how you really feel." She shrugged. "However I'm not her, and I'm assuming you'll simply tell me without the need of an impromptu psychoanalysis," she said almost smugly, the hand that was until then lazily placed on her leg finding its place around her waist.

The times when Nicole wished to curse her wife's apparently impeccable observation skills were rare, but this was one such occasion.

She almost let out a groan, pushing further back into Cassandra's form. "There was this other man, John Abbott, with the same mutation. Except his body rejected the Cadou and he died slowly and painfully," she explained, her voice quieting halfway through, but almost flinched when the arm around her went stiff with an almost vice-like grip. The realization of how long Cassandra has really been in the Village for slowly crept its way from Nicole's memory, having been filed away and almost forgotten in a metaphorical drawer of obvious things that however were rarely brought up. "Did you know him-"

"You won't end up like that sorry bastard."

The conviction behind that one simple sentence almost had Nicole letting out another short bitter laugh. Not out of bemusement of course. Irony perhaps, at how determined her wife was to double down on cheating death, not only for herself but her too. Even when death could be brought by the very thing keeping them alive.

"Not much we could do about that," she said in a small voice, one hand toying with the black fabric of Cassandra's sleeve.

"Don't think for one moment that I'm joking," she started, an edge of a warning behind her tone. Her hand came to rest more gently on the bottom of Nicole's sternum, where the skin had healed in a dark scar that seemed to send jagged cracks all the way to her stomach. "I'll pull the wretched little thing out of your chest myself if I have to."

At that Nicole actually let out a laugh. "Way to go with something morbidly romantic."

Cassandra chuckled close to her ear, bending down slightly to leave a peck where her neck and shoulder met. "You're not going to die. I won't allow it."

A silent possessiveness accompanied her words. An implication that she now belonged there, in her arms, and frivolous things such as death had no place to come between them. She should flinch at such implications, were it not for the fact that it was mutual and Cassandra knew better than to recklessly throw herself on death's path, knowing well that soon her wife would follow in her steps.

The soft kiss was returned when Nicole bent back again, until the angle between their bodies allowed for their lips to meet tenderly, in a way that anyone would believe was so utterly uncharacteristic to the both of them, ruthless in their own ways but soft like velvet running on smooth skin with each other.

They rode in comfortable silence up until the gates to the stable, where they dismounted and handed the reins to one of the servants waiting there. The sun had set by then, purple and dark blues reigning the skies as they entered the castle through one of the secondary doors.

She parted ways with her wife, saying that she would soon join the rest of their family as she headed up the stairs. A change of clothes was due. That and a request to their seamstress.

Oh her way back down, she stopped by the open door to the woman’s studio, busy with readjusting some garments for one of the ladies. A curt knock on the wooden frame of the entrance got her attention and had her pulling a face upon realizing that she had probably lost count of whatever she was mentally keeping track of. Nonetheless, she offered a polite smile when greeting Nicole.

“My lady, what can I do for you?”

“I need a facemask,” Nicole started.

The woman’s eyebrows pulled in a confused frown. “I thought a new batch of surgical masks just arrived the other day.”

Nicole raised a hand when she went to check on the shipments list. “I meant something I can wear for longer and outside the lab, surgical masks have a tendency to clash with an elegant gown, you know,” she explained with a chuckle. “Preferably that can filter out any smells?”

“Oh. Of course, I’ll just need to take your measures to make sure it’s fitted for you.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” she proposed and, after the seamstress gave her an hour, she continued on her way down the hallway to where the rest of the Dimitrescus were gathered.

Being home brought some peace of mind, thoughts of dying and being forcefully ripped away from her life momentarily placated in favor of enjoying a few hours by the fireplace with her family. Leaning against Cassandra as she draped an arm around her shoulders and listening to Daniela and Bela have a hilariously heated debate over the latest book they've read felt downright blissful in its mundane aspect.

Although no matter what, the little parasite that now called the inside of her chest its home, was quietly gnawing at her worried mind.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 25: Prima Materia

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Five Months Later

Friday, November 13th, 1998

“I can’t believe you,” Scully hisses as they exit Skinner’s office. “We’ve discussed this, Mulder. Multiple, no, countless times. You can’t just accuse someone of being a supernatural entity based off a… a wild hunch!”

“A hunch? Scully, we have concrete evidence. It’s literally documented in the folder you’re holding right now.”

“That ‘evidence’ is obviously subject to interpretation,” Scully retorts, stomping down the hall in an attempt to keep pace with Mulder’s long strides. “An interpretation I thought we’d agreed upon before going into that meeting. And I don’t appreciate you abandoning a solid hypothesis, that we discussed at length, in favor of whatever the hell that just was.”

Mulder stops outside the elevator, turning to her. “That was the truth, Scully. It’s out there, if you would just open your mind a little and accept that there are things science still can’t explain.”

“But science can-” She reaches out and punches the button for the elevator, “-explain it. You just like the sound of your own theories and ideas better than fact. Fox Mulder, the champion of truth, the only man willing to consider the extreme.”

“You know you like it,” he says in a low tone.

Scully’s eyes go wide, and she grabs his elbow. “Do not-”

The elevator doors open, and they scurry into the lift. Mulder presses the button for the basement.

“Do not use my weaknesses against me at work, Mulder, that’s not fair,” she says as the doors slide closed.

“Weaknesses?” Mulder asks casually. “Am I your weakness, Dr. Scully?”

“I’m serious. We’ve have a few close calls in the past few months; if we’re not careful, we’re going to be found out.”

“How, by arguing? We did that before we started fu-”

She gives him an imploring look.

“-working after hours,” he corrects. “Besides,” he continues, angling his chin downwards to reach her ear, “I happen to know arguing turns you on.”

Scully licks her upper lip. “I’m just saying we have to be more careful,” she insists, staring straight ahead.

“Then I guess this isn’t the best time to invite you out for a drink,” Mulder says.

Scully glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “It’s Friday the thirteenth,” she notes with a twinge of a smile. “Don’t you think it’s a little risky?”

Mulder shrugs as the elevator doors open into the basement. “Historically, the thirteenth is my lucky day.”

-

“You know, it’s been nine months since our first date,” Mulder says conversationally. They’d walked to Casey’s Bar from the Bureau and are now perched on stools at the far end of the counter, nursing a beer each.

Scully furrows her brow, obviously doing some quick mental math. “February… that was a date?” she says, somewhat amused. “You should have told me at the time. I wouldn’t have waited so long to put out.”

Mulder raises his eyebrows. “Dana,” he says in mock surprise. “I thought you were a good church girl.”

“What gave you that idea, my penchant for kneeling?” she mutters into her glass.

Fuck, she’s good.

They’ve been together for six months now, and it’s surprising how little has actually changed between them, in the practical sense. They’ve been pretty good at keeping their relationship a secret, Mulder thinks. It helps that everyone in the Bureau already thought they were crazy, codependent, and tanking their respective careers. Apparently, bad reputations make the best cover.

He and Scully arrive at the Hoover building in separate vehicles, squabble over conflicting viewpoints, have lunch together almost every day. He rests a hand on her back, guiding her through the halls, and she gives him withering glances and dramatic eye rolls when appropriate. From the outside, they’re still the same Mulder and Scully.

And then they go home to one of their respective apartments and tear each other’s clothes off.

Well, they usually make it home. That quickie in the office annex was an outlier.

Nine months seems significant somehow. The length of human gestation, Mulder thinks absently. It seems like a length of time worth celebrating.

“Would it be terribly corny of me to propose a toast?” he asks.

“A toast to what?”

He’s suddenly shy. “Us,” he says softly. “How far we’ve come. And how much,” he adds, giving her a nudge with his elbow. She rolls her eyes at him, and it feels overtly fond.

Scully lifts her glass. “To us,” she says warmly. “And to spooky shit.”

“You remember,” Mulder says as they clink glasses, recalling that first toast in Casey’s all those months ago.

“Mm,” she replies, sipping her beer. “I do. It was a… notable evening.”

“What made it notable for you?” he asks.

“We had an actual conversation, for one,” Scully muses. “About our personal lives, attraction, about how we relate to the outside world; and by extension, how we relate to each other. I remember very clearly feeling like we were close to something.”

“So did I,” Mulder admits. “So what happened, on your end?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “The spell wore off, maybe? When I got home that night I remembered all the reasons it would be a mistake to let myself feel. And then Mark happened, and you know the rest of that story.” She turns on her stool to face him more fully. “What happened for you?”

“I took you on a very cold, very dark picnic,” Mulder reminds her.

“Which was wonderful,” she offers.

Mulder nods. “But then when I asked you out again, you had a date. I don’t know, maybe I was going too slow, being too subtle. But when you started going out with that jackass it felt like… in a way, you were saying that what I had to give wasn’t enough.”

Scully doesn’t say anything, just stares down at her glass.

“And I realize that it’s selfish of me to project that onto you,” he amends. “Your choices aren’t about me. But fuck, I wished they were.”

“You’d be surprised how many of my choices actually were about you,” she says softly. “I surprise even myself. You told me before that you didn’t think I’d last a full year working with you, remember? There was validity in that. This job… it’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. So much is at stake for us, so much has been taken. But I chose to continue because I believed in you, and in our work. We have different methods and come to different conclusions, but we’re working towards the same thing. That’s what I believe.”

He reaches over beneath the cover of the countertop and takes her hand, clasping it atop his knee. They sit in silence for awhile, taking sips of their drinks, palms pressed together.

The truth hides in many places, Mulder is learning. Places more secret and sacred than dusty file folders or abandoned warehouses, more mundane than the locked rooms of the Pentagon or trapped beneath thousands of years of ice. The greatest truths are scattered pieces he stumbles upon every day; reflected in his bathroom mirror, scribbled on post-it notes in their office, hidden under Scully’s warm tongue. He knows he’s an obsessed man, prone to irrationality and impulse; but in quiet moments with his partner, he finds small fragments of peace he never thought he could reach.

“Where are you?” Scully says softly, drawing him back into the present. A dim barroom, a sweating glass, her soft hand in his. He wonders if the day will come when his mind wanders too far for her to follow.

“I-I know how crazy this is going to sound, Scully but bear with me… do you ever think that we’re… that we’re bonded somehow? Like we were always supposed to end up here. Together.”

“Like here, here? In this bar?”

“Maybe. Maybe less specifically this bar and more generally this time and place on earth. This universe, this dimension. With each other.”

She shakes her head gently, smiling. “Mulder, it’s been a long week. If we’re going to talk about the metaphysical I need to either have more to drink or be under the influence of a postcoital surge of oxytocin.”

He leans closer to her. “Do you have a preference as to which, because I’d gladly provide either.”

Scully pushes her half-empty glass away from her, eyes dark and soft. “Take me home, Mulder,” she whispers.

His heart squeezes. “Will you stay?” The night, the rest of our lives, until our boat drifts over the edge of the earth?

She nods, and another piece of the truth slides into place.

[doubleleoenergy]

iii. Angel, The Princess and the Pogue Series

And even though we live inside a dangerously empty life. You always seem to bring the light, you always seem to bring the light.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drug use, mentions of suicide, mentions of alcoholism and addiction, swearing, if there are any others please let me know.

Summary: JJ spends a late night with y/n and finds out they’ve got a lot more in common than it seems.

Words: 2863

As soon as the last school bell chimed Thursday afternoon, the gang jumped from their seats and headed straight for John B’s van. JJ lingered in the hallway, leaning against a set of lockers outside of y/n’s class as he waited for her. He had spent any chance he had during the school day around her. It was like she was a beacon of light, a beacon of hope, after so many things in his life had gone wrong. Of course, he wasn’t sure if she even found him remotely attractive in that way, but he sure as shit thought she was.

Y/N’s class had finally dismissed for the day and she stepped out into the hall, smiling as she saw JJ who was standing there with a big goofy grin on his face. “You didn’t have to wait for me, I could’ve walked out to the van on my own.” She commented.

JJ pushed off the lockers, falling in step beside her, an arm draping loosely over her shoulders. Her heartbeat quicker in her chest, though she tried to play it off, letting her expression remain calm. “A princess should never walk alone.” He teased, pushing the front door of the school open with his opposite hand.

“Not sure I’m a princess.” She retorted, rolling her eyes dramatically which caused him to laugh.

“Well, that’s your new nickname, sorry princess.” He let go of her shoulder and jogged forward to the van, meeting Kiara for their secret handshake before sending a salute in John B’s direction.

“You ready to fish, y/n?” Kiara asked, hopping in after her into the van and shutting the door behind them. Again, she was sandwiched between Kiara and JJ, which of course she didn’t mind at all.

“Yeah, I think I’ve only fished once in my life, with a cousin in Montana. But I didn’t catch shit and refused to go after that.” She picked at her cuticles, watching as the van started cruising down the street, John B’s free hand moving to grab Sarah’s who sat in her usual spot in the passenger seat.

“Well, we’re kinda experts at this, so if you don’t at least catch one fish you’ve got some bad juju on you.” Pope responded, earning a smack to the chest from Kiara. “Damn Kie, it’s just a joke!” The gang laughed, John B continuing to drive until he pulled over at a dingey corner store, JJ hopping out of the back seat and going inside. Sarah started belting out the lyrics to a Bob Marley tune as they waited, JJ emerging minutes later carrying two cold packs of Natural Light.

“Can’t fish without beer, that’s a Pogue sin!” He claimed, shutting the door as he nestled back into his spot beside y/n. Five minutes later they pulled into the docks, John B parking his van in an empty spot before everyone hopped out one-by-one. The boat John B had was not the prettiest, but it just showed its resilience. He hopped in first before helping Sarah get in, JJ passing up the beer for John B to set down in the boat.

Y/N, Pope, and Kiara got in after, JJ waiting on the dock for John B’s signal to push off. He gave it a swift push after a nod from the other man, jumping in as John B turned the keys in the ignition, driving the boat off into the deeper portion of the water.

“It’s beer o’clock!” JJ commented, opening one end of the first case and passing out beers to everyone, including y/n. She opened the can and took a long swig, admiring the water as they trolled in the deep.

“We’re gonna want to go to the far side, that’s where the fish are feeding right now.” John B noted, the speed of the boat increasing as he headed in that direction. Sarah turned on the radio, the music wafting as they sped farther away from shore towards the sweet spot where they’d anchor down at.

Y/N’s hair whipped in the wind, taking in the view as they cruised along the water. The Outer Banks truly was paradise on earth, as the sign had stated when she first arrived. She wasn’t sure how she would feel, being in a new town for her final year of high school, but she just felt meant to be there, like it was fate.

Soon enough the boat slowed, Pope grabbing the anchor and tossing it in when John B instructed him to, finally turning off the ignition and sitting back in his seat, taking a heavy swig of his beer.

“Alright, let's get the poles set up.” John B took the poles that were slid tight against the side of the boat, handing one to each person aboard before opening the container of worms. JJ pulled a knife from his pocket, cutting a few longer worms in half, everyone grabbing a piece.

“Can you put it on yourself, princess?” JJ questioned, wrapping his worm tight on his hook before inspecting y/n’s in her hand. She scoffed, following what JJ had just done, wrapping the worm around the hook, stabbing it through until it was stuck tight.

“How’s this?” She tilted her head to the side, sticking her tongue out at him. JJ displayed his middle finger playfully at her, finishing the last little bit of his beer before he moved to the bow of the boat, standing up and casting his rod.

Y/N moved to stand next to Sarah and Pope, casting out as they did and making sure not to cross lines, as Pope had told instructed her not to do. It wasn’t long before the Pogues were reeling in fish, taking them off and inspecting them before tossing them back in the cool water. They seemed to make a competition of it, seeing whose fish was bigger and how many fish they could catch.

Ten minutes had gone by, everyone but y/n catching a fish. “Maybe you were right Pope, I’ve clearly got some bad juju following me.” She huffed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Nah, you’re just not doing it right.” JJ motioned her over to him where he stood at the bow, having y/n watch him cast. “See, I cast it out and I let it sink a bit before I start slowly reeling in. You gotta jiggle it a bit now and then too. Now you try.” He reeled in completely, his eyes on her as she took her turn. She listened to his notes, casting out far and waiting briefly before she started to reel, stopping after a few turns of the handle to jiggle her line. Sure enough, after a few turns of the handle she felt a bite, tugging sharply to ensure it was on the hook. Her line started moving from left to right as the fish tried to swim away.

“Fuck, I got one!” She cried out, reeling it in bit by bit, listening to JJ as he coached her through it. Soon enough the fish was above the water, y/n jumping up and down happily. The Pogues clapped behind her, cheering her on as she put her finger in the fish's mouth just as she had seen Sarah do, carefully freeing the hook from where it had been caught.

“We need to document this!” Kiara stated, opening the camera on her phone. “Say...fish food!” Y/N smiled at the camera, allowing the woman to snap a few pictures before she looked up at JJ proudly.

“Great job, and now a kiss.” JJ instructed, taking a swig from his second beer.

“For you or the fish?” The boat became dead silent at y/n’s words, JJ’s cheeks flashing crimson as he choked on the swig of beer. “I’m kidding.” That was a lie, she would’ve kissed him. She pecked the fish near its eyes before tossing it back into the water with a smile.

 They continued to fish until the sun started to lower in the sky, y/n finally catching five and Kiara catching the most with eleven. The Pogues settled back into the boat, the music softly playing, the fishing poles now stashed away as they continued to sip on their beers.

“So, y/n, you said it’s just you and your sister?” Sarah chirped, leaning back into John B’s embrace.

“Uh yeah, she’s great. She’s actually working a double shift tonight at the hospital, but she told me to tell you guys hello and she can’t wait to meet you all sometime.” Pope trolled the boat on the route back towards the docks, taking another swig from his can.

“What about your parents?” He blurted out, receiving a hard smack from Kiara.

“You don’t have to answer that y/n.” She retorted, a death glare meeting Pope’s confused expression.

“N-No, it’s alright.” She swallowed, looking down at her hands as she continued. She’d eventually have to share; it might as well be now. And she’d had three beers, the liquid courage all she needed. “Well, my parents, my sister, and I lived here until I was three. My mom moved us after...well, after my dad shot himself. He battled with depression his whole life and the depression finally won.” John B turned the music off as she spoke, everyone going silent, even JJ.

“My mom couldn’t enjoy living here after my dad’s death, so she packed us up and we moved to Montana. My Aunt and Uncle live out there, so she wanted to be closer to family. My mom became a shell of a person, she couldn’t get over losing my dad and so she coped with alcohol. She was good at hiding it at first, sipping from a water bottle at my sister’s high school graduation, or adding a splash to her morning cup of coffee. Eventually it just got worse and she developed cirrhosis of the liver. She died a year ago from it.” Y/N cleared her throat with a sip of beer. “Enough of my sad, shitty life, the sunsets sure are beautiful here.”

JJ knew how she felt, all too well. Though his mother left him, and his piece of shit father was alive, he knew the struggles of having a parent with an addiction. He put a hand on her thigh, startling her briefly before her body untensed, enjoying the comforting gesture.

“Yeah, it really is.” Kiara agreed, eager to move the conversation away from y/n’s family, as it was clear she was done talking about it. “Ya’ll down for a dip?” Before anyone can protest Kiara is shimmying out of her shorts and top, her body clad in a navy-blue bikini as she hopped off the boat into the water.

“Hell yeah!” Pope added, pulling off his shirt as he dove in next to her. Sarah and John B joined them, jumping hand-in-hand off the boat.

“Shit, I forgot to put my bottoms on.” Y/N noted, Kiara leaning up on the edge of the boat beside the woman.

“It’s fine, just go in your underwear. It’s basically the same thing.” She let go of the boat, floating on her back in the water.

JJ stood up beside y/n, tossing his shirt off, giving y/n a view of his bare chest. His chest was tanned from the sun and chiseled; his arm muscles taut as he stretched them over his head. He met her gaze, a smirk playing on his lips as he noticed her eyes on him.

“C’mon, princess.” He joked before he dove off the boat and under the water, emerging seconds later, shaking out his blonde locks.

“Alright, I’m coming.” Y/N pulled her shirt up and set it on the seat, JJ’s eyes instinctively taking in her breasts clothed in a tiny orange bikini top. She pushed down her shorts, her black lace cheeky panties catching JJ’s attention, his breath hitching in his throat. Her body was gorgeous. She moved to the edge of the boat, John B and Sarah egging her on as she jumped in.

The water was cool, enveloping her body and refreshing her skin. She stayed under for a moment before resurfacing, whipping her hair off her face. They all waded around in the water, John B and Pope starting a war over who could splash the other the hardest.

JJ floated over to y/n, taking in the sight of her again beside him. Breathtaking, as always. “Sorry about your parents.” He mumbled, running a hand through his wet, shaggy hair.

“It’s alright, I’ve been through tons of therapy by now to know ‘it’s not my fault’, ‘addiction is a disease’, ‘depression can develop in the happiest people’. Blah, blah, blah.” She mocked herself, her lip quivering slightly at her words.

“My dad’s an alcoholic and a drug addict.” JJ admitted. “Used to beat the shit outta me. Luckily that bastard is far gone, haven’t seen him since he left over a year ago. So, we’ve got that in common. The parent with an addition, I mean. And you know, I’m here for you. Or whatever.” He mumbled, trying to seem nonchalant about the offer.

“Thanks, JJ. You’re a good guy.” It had been awhile since he heard that, but it made his heart soar knowing she felt that way.

They swam until the sun had disappeared in the sky, heading into shore and docking the boat once again. They had air-dried by that point and pulled their clothes back on, everyone hopping out of the boat and heading for the van.

“Alright, John B do you mind dropping me off at The Wreck? I promised to help my parents clean up tonight.” Kiara asked, leaning back against the seat of the van.

“Yeah, sure Kie. We’ll drop you off first.” They drove towards The Wreck, everyone exhausted from the day of school followed by their boating adventure. As the gang talked amongst themselves, y/n’s eyes started to drift shut, her body lulling until she leaned her head against JJ’s shoulder, startling him at first. He took one look at her sleeping, a smile creeping onto his face, and he let her sleep, his fingers tracing lightly against the skin of her thigh as they drove.

They dropped Kiara off first, then Pope, dropping Sarah off at her place after, but not before she gave John B a soft goodnight kiss.

“Alright, let’s head to y/n’s place.” John B looked back at JJ, noticing y/n still asleep on his shoulder.

“Let her sleep, JB. We can just bring her back to your place for the night.” JJ announced, his hand still tracing her thigh.

“Dude, you’ve got it so bad for her.” John B replied, backing out of Sarah’s driveway and heading towards the Château.

“Shut up.” He retorted, shooting up his middle finger for John B to see in his rearview mirror.

“Is it so bad if you did? I’m with Sarah, and I couldn’t imagine my life without her.” John B turned down the road towards his place, glancing at JJ from his mirror every so often.

“M’not good at this stuff, JB.” JJ had never really held down a steady relationship. He got girls, for sure, but all were just one-night stands, nothing more. If he was being totally honest, he didn’t know if he deserved to be loved by someone like John B and Sarah. He didn’t know if someone could actually love all his broken pieces, and he didn’t want to feel like a burden on anyone.

The van pulled to a stop, John B hopping out and heading inside. JJ wrapped one arm behind y/n’s back, scooting her until his other arm scooped under her legs, pulling her up and out of the back seat. He carried her in his arms, y/n’s eyes fluttering open, blinking in the night sky.

“What are you doing?” She mumbled, her head lulling to look up at JJ as they entered the shack.

“I didn’t want to wake you, you just looked...peaceful. We can take you home if you’d like.” Y/N shook her head, letting him carry her until he kicked open his bedroom door, setting her down gently onto his comforter.

“I’ll stay, if that’s okay. I don’t really enjoy being home alone when Bailey’s gone all night.” She fell back against his bed, taking in the sight of his room. It was messy, but she expected that from a guy like him, although the comforter was soft and his mattress plush underneath her back.

“Yeah, of course you can stay. You can stay here anytime.” He glanced at her as she pushed her body under his covers, nuzzling her face into his pillow. “M’gonna sleep on the couch. If you need me, you can come get me…” Before he could finish his sentence y/n’s eyes closed, her breathing heavier as she drifted to unconsciousness again.

“Goodnight, y/n.” JJ whispered, creeping out of his room and shutting the door. He walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch, a huge smile on his face. She had him wrapped around her finger, an angel in his hell, and she had know idea.

Tagging those who may be interested. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged/untagged: @midnightf, @serendipityrogers, @bucksmotel, @eireduchess, @fuckandfluff, @moniamaybank, @astrydis, @sokovianheadtilt​, @blackwiddows​, @matbarzalschain​, @bigassnocash​, @sspidermanss

[hargrove-mayfields]

With the exception of one faded baby picture kept in a heart shaped locket his mother used to wear around her neck, now hidden away in Max’s jewelry box so it was safe, Billy doesn’t have any pictures from when he was younger.

No chunky photo albums full of pictures of family outings and days at the park, a chubby-cheeked toddler in the grass. No evidence of a time when he was happy, healthy, safe. He had nothing but vague memories to remember his past by.

It had always sort of bothered him, knowing most people had the chance to look back fondly on their memories while he was stuck hardly able to recall anything beyond the worst moments of his childhood.

Without something to jog his memory, he knew there were faces he’d forgotten, places he’d been that he could never identify, countless moments of his youth lost to time, because they were remembered only through stories his father was too heartless to tell.

He’d long ago come to terms with the fact that that just wasn’t something his family did, but it was hard, and he still felt strangely isolated, almost erased by it.

Steve finds out when they’re unpacking at their first shared place. He’d gone through everything Billy had brought in the few boxes he was able to fill, and apparently hadn’t been pleased with what he found.

He looks over at Billy, confusion clear in the furrow of his eyebrows. “Is this everything?”

“Mhm. S’all I’ve got.”

“But what about your personal stuff?”

Billy shrugs. “You’re looking at it, babe.”

“That’s stuff from your room, I mean like, photo albums? Baby clothes?” Steve does a vague gesture to his boxes still piled in the corner of the room, the fact that there’s at least twice as many as Billy has. “My mom wouldn’t let me leave without at least bringing a family portrait.”

He hesitates, feeling put on the spot about something that had bugged him for ages. “Just don’t have anything like that. My mom, I guess she took all that stuff with her, and Neil didn’t care about replacing it.”

“Well, I do.” Steve looks down into the box of Billy’s things again, takes note of how none of it really means anything to him, and his mind is made up. “You’re taking me to the store.”

“Stevie, it’s fine-“

“No it isn’t.” Looking Billy right in the eyes, he says firmly, “I’m making you a scrapbook.”

If there’s one thing Billy’s learned, it’s that there’s no arguing with his boyfriend when he’s like that, determined to do something he thinks is important no matter it’s actual significance, so two hours and a visit to the craft store later they end up with ridiculous amounts of patterned paper, glue dots, stickers, and fancy Polaroid sheets, and two books to put it all in.

From that point on Steve makes it his mission to document absolutely everything Billy does. There’s countless pictures of him just sitting on the couch, pictures of him eating cereal and falling asleep in the car.

If it were up to him, he’d keep every last photo he took, but Billy makes him get rid of blurry and poorly exposed ones. Even with throwing some out, within the first few years of living together, they amass hundreds of photos, all crammed into the pages of those books.

Just like his mother had with her scrapbooks, Steve takes extra care to label each photo with the date it was taken and a brief description in blue pen on the back, and adorn them with little themed stickers and quotes, framing them with pieces of accent paper cut with craft scissors so it was even more special.

His personal favorite is a photo from December of ‘87. It’s of just Billy by himself, sitting on the floor surrounded by crates of Christmas decorations, a half built Christmas tree behind him, laughing at something Steve was doing behind the camera. It had been one of the first few Billy hadn’t minded keeping around, once his hair had finally grown back out to where he wanted it, and his scars started fading.

Billy’s favorite is one of the both of them at a cheesy roadside diner in a Pennsylvania beach town, the closest they could get to California at the time, taken in 1990. It had been taken by a kindly stranger in front of a blown up ‘Smiles from Erie, PA’ postcard. He likes it because Steve looks like a dorky tourist, sunburn on his nose from hardly any time in the sun and wearing a Hawaiian shirt as tacky as the decorations. He keeps a second print of it in his wallet.

Over the years they fill several photo books of all colors and shapes to the very last page, a huge collection of their time spent together in a chest behind the living room couch.

Maybe it’s the fact that it was something he never had, or maybe because it was something they almost couldn’t have, but for Billy, it’s nice just to know that for once someone cares enough to want to preserve moments passed with him.

Even sweeter is thinking of the future, of the day they’ll crack open those old books for nieces and nephews and children of their own, even. That’s all he could ever want, he thinks.

Because it was never really about pictures, that was superficial. It was about family.

[aineryeo]

Prominence ௹ ATSUMU

The letters of the first few days when you parted ways 📨

Prominence: “Find someone great, but don’t find someone better.” You’d say to yourself, though it was directed to your ex-boyfriend, writing in a number of papers, serving as letters. Awaiting your impending doom.

Timeskip! Atsumu x Reader

Synopsis: You break up with Atsumu Miya in hopes to alleviate his pain. And for what he'd have to deal with. » 6.2k Words

Warnings: Depictions of Mental Illnesses & actual disease, Angst, Suicidal tendencies, Cursing, Atsumu is an impulsive bitch, so is reader. Read at your own discretion. Do not read if this has any sort of possibility to trigger you, more if you feel encouraged to do something you shouldn’t. This isn’t what the fic is about.

It was a rainy day, droplets of water knocking on the window of what was your empty room. It wasn’t a space you were supposed to be getting used to at this point in your long life. A faint tune of a piano was penetrating through your thin walls as you stared into nothing in particular, maybe the particles that become visible with the peek of sunlight through the gray clouds piercing through your window pane.

Your body got up, but you had a stinging migraine, your limbs were weak, and today was an off-day from your work as a bustling city journalist. No phone calls for a sudden need for your presence in your job. Your blanket was wrapped around you loosely, your feet navigating through your creaking floors. How depressing.

Empty fridge.

Messy bed.

Disorganized papers.

And clothes in unsuspecting places.

Your clothes. None of his. You can’t even reminisce about him anymore. Your migraine seems to have gotten worse. You spot one of the few things that were left organized. Your letters. You grimaced, the pain suddenly pushed to the back of your head as you were reminded of the contents.

“It won’t be bad to see him, at least once.” You reason to yourself with a small smile, it wasn’t a happy one. Nonetheless it was one. One reason out of many when you were always reminded that he was already happy, that Atsumu no longer needed you, and your relationship was a ghost of the past.

It has been for a month now, how else would it go, when you were the one who ended it?

Yeah, it was a bad idea to see him. You scold yourself for coming here, furthering your torture. You see him with a huge smile, bigger than when he was with you. Brighter than when you last picked a joke, at least that was what you thought. You dated him since you were sixteen, young, and fresh in-love.

“Tsum, baby, not here.” You vaguely make out, from hiding behind one of the tall bleachers near the exit from where their practice usually resided in. She was very pretty, her voice silky. You hear a rumbling chuckle in return, you feel your spine shudder at the familiarity. “Hm, honey where do ya want me ta do it then? I jus’ can’t resist ya.” You took your small window to catch a glimpse of them. The perfect lovers.

This was selfish, you knew it. But you inwardly cheered for him, happy to know that he found someone great. That he was happy, even if it was at your expense. Your eyes were glossy, dams about to break, so you walk away; like you always do, like you always did. Your mouth formed into a shaky frown, your fists clenching ‘till you were white-knuckling nothing in particular. White-knuckling all your pain, perhaps.

It was when you exited the establishment, into the car park, into your cheap second-hand car, did your tears fall; until everything kept breaking, your multi-functional tape to bar all your emotions inside, failing you for the umpteenth time for the past month. You were all alone, still clutching your keys to open the door to the driver’s seat. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, which made you jolt, you were too surprised that you didn’t get to wipe your residual breakdown off your face.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Your blurry eyes adjusted, and your heart almost jumped at the familiar face. You turned your face away from him, you were too ashamed to show your face to him. To the brother of the man you were still in love with. You changed your voice a few octaves higher, “Yeah! Thanks, sorry you had to see that.” Mishandling your keys before being able to open it quickly, though Osamu stopped you just as fast.

“I know it’s you, Y/N.”

You froze. “I’m not—”

Hearing a small laugh from him made you stop. “I think I’ve seen your car enough times before, with the same plate to know that it’s you when I parked right next to it.” Turning back, he already had his hand out holding a handkerchief.

“Sorry.”

He smiled sympathetically at your small figure, noticing that you’ve gotten smaller than you already were. More fragile. So he placed his hand that was roughly the size of your face, gently on top of your head to stroke it, hoping to bring you some comfort; roughly knowing the situation about you and his brother. How couldn’t he?

“It’ll be okay.”

It’s not. You recall, already sitting in your bathtub, not really crying, not really feeling anything of the sort. You exhaled as if it lightened your burdens. It won’t be.

You hum. Knees to your chest, “Not when...” You sigh, not now.

It was time for work, tedious work that requires you to write articles and camp out places at 2am in the morning, only to turn up and camp out at a different place again, just hoping for an interview for your channel. You didn’t feel like breaking down at all, but it felt like everything is typically more down. You refused to eat when your co-workers asked you to join them, you had no appetite.

You hadn’t for weeks.

A heavy feeling is always stuck inside you. Like everything is screaming at you, but you can’t scream back. You just can’t. Always heaving sighs, always staring into what once was blue skies, turned dull grey. Was it because you regretted having to let go of him? Or was it because of the news you had received prior to when you left him? Was it because the one time you felt like you couldn’t walk, the doctor told you that you had a few left; extend your life with a surgery that was high-risk.

Your hand ran through your hair for the umpteenth time, thoughts drifting to whether you should just end it quicker than what you had. What was the point? You failed to notice that your hand was writing on another piece of paper, as if documenting everything that ran through your mind. And maybe you wanted them to find out, when you’re gone. So you don’t have to face the burden of facing them afterwards and giving them any answers.

But you don’t want to ruin the happiness Atsumu had right now. He’ll blame himself, but this was all your fault. You ended it with a bad note so he’d forget you easily, you yelled at him, told him that he was useless, you didn’t love him anymore. You open your eyes, seeing yourself back at the situation where it all began, and where it all ended.

“Atsumu, I hate you.”

“Angel, what are ya saying? I said I was sorry! I’m tired from practice.” He replied, he was tired. He was stressed. You were stressing him. And he was getting rightfully agitated, it was working.

Your thoughts briefly flash to the days before, same old. You chose to do it days slowly, so it wouldn’t be too sudden; so he’d lose all love for you once you leave him. So you nitpick him again, even though it never really bothered you, “You always do this. Maybe we should just...” You swallow, it was like eating hard, bitter candy at once.

“What? Break up? Yeah, with your incessant yappin’ these days, Y/N, I wouldn’t mind one bit.” He said, looking at you with a harsh gaze. Similar to when some random fan begins screaming during his serving routine. You were nothing now. You nodded, if he had the right mind that time, he would’ve noticed that you were eerily calm; you were expecting this, why wouldn’t you?

“Yeah, break up.” You confirmed, with a somber smile. He hadn’t even noticed that more than half of your things were already gone from your shared apartment. You had one last suitcase, it was right beside the door. Atsumu failed to notice all the little things disappearing, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if he failed to also stop you before you hung your apron on the rack, turning the stove off, he was already gone. Into his bedroom, where he slept, too tired for anything his aching muscles couldn’t take right now. Your keys left untouched on the table before you left him altogether. Always, just always looking back with a heavy grimace.

The skies were the same color from that day, to everyday, same grey.

It wasn’t long before you found out he had a new love. Apparently an avid, and innocent fan of his whom he met during one of his morning runs in the park.

“What’re you writing there, Y/N?” One of your co-workers as of now, Akaashi Keiji, brought your head back up in the present. You hummed, folding the paper your hand subconsciously wrote in, and placing it in your pocket. “Nothing, really. My hand just kind of moves on its own when I think of anything in general.”

He smiles, sweet. “That’s endearing. Must be why you’re quite famous in the department.”

You chuckle, “I’m not famous, Keiji. If anything, this job just keeps giving me migraines. You’re the real MVP as a great editor in your dept.”

His hand was rubbing his nape, laughing softly with you. You stood up, supposed to get some water only to fall back down again. Your co-worker quickly catches you with worry etched in his delicate features.

“Y/N, have you been eating?” No, but..

“Keiji, I can’t feel my legs.”

It was showing.

You asked Keiji not to tell anyone, he in turn, asked if any of your family members knew this. It made you chortle, you said, “No. My grandmother died years ago, I’m an only child, and my parents didn’t last.” It wasn’t a funny thing, you knew that but it made you laugh anyway. Laugh at how pathetic you were.

He looked at you, on your bed at your home that he had kindly helped you in after calling your doctor from before. Saying it was that the disease was starting to become severe, causing your limbs, your legs, your arms, to lose its sensation. Slowly, you’ll become more agitated, and it’ll be harder for you to talk, or even move. Only your co-worker, and your boss knew for the time-being.

“You don’t have to help me. I know you’re busy.” You said, though weak, “I’ll only weigh you down.”

Keiji sighed, he knew that you worry too much about other people, he knew that you got lost enough to stop thinking about yourself. And it was sad, he empathized with you in the way that you were both overthinkers, though he’d understood for a while that you were more hasty with decision-making.

“No.” He said, simple.

You looked down at the blanket that covered your bottom half, your top half facing the big, musty, old window next to your bed. Facing away from Akaashi.

“Why?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, save for the usual noise from the surrounding roads. He looked up, before he looked back at your weak figure. “It’s just you—you’re all alone.” Walking around to the other side so he can face you. About to utter a tad more to his sentence, he stopped when he saw your eyes blown wide, a bit red at the bottom, a hard attempt to stop tears from falling. He didn’t miss a beat after, quickly crouching, and allowing your head to rest on his chest.

“So I thought you could use some company.”

You appreciated your co-worker, now close friend’s generous help. It’s been a few weeks, and you’ve been spending it cooped up in the hospital. He had also forced you to finally admit yourself so you can get immediate assistance in the case that something similar were to happen again. A similar event where he was forced to carry you to your car, and drive you home.

The cords stuck to your skin to hydrate you was a bother, but it was manageable. Here were your last few months alive. You still had no idea why you couldn’t just leave. You had no specific goal, you were bound to hit rock-bottom, and the least you can get is a few more months, maybe years of living if you get the surgery. There was no point, nothing to live for. You could work on your career, but what can you really do with legs that can barely stand, and… hands that can’t even pick up a pen.

The latter was the one that you cried to every night if you had tears to spare. The latter was the one where you try to continuously hit your head in hopes it can keep writing. It was such a simple task, why couldn’t it do its job? When Akaashi came to visit one afternoon, he had to rush and grab the sharp pen you had in your barely moving left hand, attempting to dig it in the skin of the right. Just to feel if it was still alive.

Then it was requested to have no pens, or sharp objects left near you without supervision. You’d call your friends, if by friends, you mean other than occasional visits from your co-workers that didn’t know much about your personal life; but still had the courtesy of visiting you nonetheless after hearing news from the boss, you’d consent to it since you were leaving the field. But he hasn’t fired you yet, apparently.

Sometimes it shifts, when your arms refuse to work, your legs will move for a bit, vice versa. A frown forms on your face when it happens to be both. Why couldn’t this just be quicker? You ponder, and hear the door open. Expecting the only person who visits you so frequently.

“Keij—” You stopped. He stopped. “What are you doing here?”

“Hm? So I can’t visit ya now?” Oh, his familiar tone.

“How did you even know I was here?” You said, a bit agitated.

“Asked one of yer co-workers.” He shrugged.

“...You visited my workplace? And they told you immediately?” You raised your brow, bringing your body up to sit on the bed instead. It was a feat on its own, but he’d seen your struggle, he was about to reach and help actually.

“Yeah, I had deliveries to make.” He said, leaning back. “And I may have made them slip it after overhearin’ yer name. Couldn’t resist my charm.”

“You’re ridiculous, ‘Samu.” You smiled, for the first time in a while. He could tell that it wasn’t a normal occurrence in a while, the thought of at least alleviating your stress for a bit eased a tide inside Osamu.

Osamu took his hat off, putting it on the table next to your bed. He was humoring you, because he didn’t want you to see the first look on his face when he confirmed that it really was you who's been confined here. Not any other person with the same name. He sat on the sofa beside you, next to the window. You’d lie if your heart didn’t clench at the sight of him, If you’d look inside, you’ll spot the tinge of pain; but outside, all Osamu could see was that you still adored him. By that, he meant his brother. He knew he might trigger you due to him being the twin of what was your love. Still is, he was sure.

Clearing his throat, your trance broke. “Y/N.”

“Hm.” You lay your back flat on the metal headboard covered in the white pillows of your white bed, in your white room.

“Why are you here?” It was true that Osamu had heard you were confined in the hospital while he was making deliveries to your place coincidentally, so he couldn’t help but perk his ears. Despite your break-up, he was still your childhood friend, and although he heard of the story of how it ended from none other than his brother’s dull voice on the phone that night he was closing up Onigiri Miya; he knew there must’ve been something that caused you to do that other than Atsumu himself. He’d investigate, and help rekindle the lifelong relationship you both shared if he wasn’t so busy himself. And if his brother hadn’t immediately used a rebound to inflict immediate pain upon you, maybe he’d have considered it.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

Osamu sighs, “You do. Tell me,” he looks at you with sincerity, placing his coarse palm from the work he’s been juggling in, on top of your pale, lifeless hands. Almost wincing at the cold temperature they held, “Please.”

You sucked in a breath, he placed his, what you assume to be, warm hand on top of yours. But you felt nothing. So you let it out, “I have Friedreich’s Ataxia. Apparently it’s genetic, uh, doesn’t allow me to use these flimsy things.” You glanced at your legs, slightly waving them along with your hands, “I can’t even feel the warmth of your hand right now. I mean, that is, if you’re warm. It’s always cold here. The doctors said they’d try to give me therapy and train me to walk again, or actually use my hands.” You chuckle.

“And something about heart surgery, though that won’t really extend my life for long.” You finish, opting to insert a joke that you thought was bright until you let it out, “Better than turning out blind though! Haha… Kidding, it may happen to me too, which sucks, by the way.”

Your rambling was cut off when you were met with an intense stare from Osamu. “And you’ve found out of this, when?”

“...Nearly 2 months.. Ago?” You gulped the lump that was stuck in your throat.

Osamu rested his elbows on his knees, thinking. “So that was the reason?”

You retained silence.

He sighs. “I knew it would be a valid reason, but I really wasn’t hoping it would be this.” His face hidden in his big hands, frustration was visible. But it was the breathy question of, “Why are the gods this cruel?” To which your eyes soften, albeit a little bit.

“Samu, can I ask a favor?”

He looks at you, face out of his palms. “Sure.”

“Can you… Turn the TV on?” He raised a brow at first before standing up and getting the remote by the stand, switching it on, immediately being greeted by the sports channel on Volleyball. Oh, they had a game today. He had nearly forgotten due to this new revelation from you. He looked at your face that was staring directly at the screen, then he saw the number thirteen, and his heart clenched tighter.

He placed the remote on the table beside your bed, and he took his black cap. He spun it on his finger for a bit, “I won’t tell ‘Sumu.”

You hummed again, before looking at him. “Thank you.” Then he smiles sweetly at you before turning around, his face immediately turning into a painful grimace. Because even he could feel the tragedy of this love.

Each day you were gone was a punch in the gut for Atsumu. His initial lack of reaction to his overreaction, trying to get back at you for leaving him. It was wrong. All he ever wanted was to call you, tell you to come back, have you in his arms, the lot. He’d miss the smell of your hair when he hugs you tight, or the clean apartment whenever he comes home to you beaming, cooking dinner; like his precious wife-to-be. Though he hadn’t proposed, the ring he bought for you started collecting dust in his drawer.

The girl he was with didn’t really last long, she broke it off after getting annoyed by him calling your name instead of hers on any normal occasion on impulse. His head in his hands, bed half-empty. His games gave him a little bit of adrenaline, but every time he sees the empty spot saved for you in his jersey, the adrenaline will scafe off, bit by bit. It’d be a lie if he said that he didn’t at least try to call your number in the past two months, he had actually, for a couple of times. But your number was unreachable, and your social media was non-existent.

It was like you weren’t real. Like a ghost. Sand that was slipping far from his fingers, his hold. His hold loosened in a moment of weakness.

To say his biggest regret was the night you left was a lie, because the biggest regret he ever made was never immediately trying to get you back. He was dazed off in the locker rooms after one of their games, his water bottle in hand. Hinata waved in front of him, Bokuto right next; to which his daze cut off.

“You okay, Tsum?”

He smiled, nodding. But his teammates knew it wasn’t the same for a while now. He was more rigid and tired in his movements. Probably not the kind of exhaustion that could be solved by sleep.

“Yeah, no worries.” Even Sakusa worriedly glances once in a while, he still cares, though not openly shown. Atsumu slung his gym bag over his shoulders after changing, he decided to visit his brother in his shop for now. He was walking out to drive when he accidentally bumped into someone, trapped in his little thoughts about you again.

“Oh—Sorry, didn’t see ya there.” Atsumu apologized, knowing it was his fault.

“It’s okay, Miya-san.” It took a few moments before Atsumu registered who this was.

“Akaashi? Keiji? Bokuto talks about ya all the time! Nice to meet ya.” He smiled, putting his hand out for him to shake. To which the latter man does. Oh, Akaashi recognizes him, not just from being his friend’s teammate; but from being your ex. He concluded in his thoughts by the few seconds they shook hands that he wished for him to not find out about you any longer. Thinking about the pain it would cause for both of you, especially him. They nodded at each other before bidding goodbyes and heading off to their own destinations.

Atsumu drove past the busy streets of the city, traffic holding him back a little bit. He was stopped a little bit in front of the city hospital. He didn’t know why, but his gaze lingered on the building a little longer than he’d like to admit. His left hand clutching the wheel, the other on the stick; Why does it feel like… He shakes his head to rid himself of ridiculous thoughts, seeing as the cars were finally moving, he did too.

Just as his foot pressed on the accelerator, his eyes landed on you. His eyes were the widest it had been, and this was the day he felt the most emotions since the day you left him.

“Y/N?” He asks, though his window was turned up and he was inside his car. He must be going crazy. Were you on a wheelchair? Was it really you? Or were his eyes playing tricks on him again, just like it had been every time he visited places he used to go with you. Or when he needed anything in particular, his first call in the apartment would be your name, expecting an answer back like you always had been.

He rolls his window down, and at that moment he swears your eyes met before you quickly changed vision. He’d run out of his car to chase you right now, if it weren’t for the honking behind him. Fuck.

He drives forward, and goes around to park for the hospital real quickly. Just to see if he wasn’t going insane by the amount of times he’d imagined seeing you again. He looks around the area, arriving at the greener part of the hospital, probably one of the places where they take some patients out for walks. Atsumu’s heart beats faster when he sees the same beautifully familiar hair, and angelic face he’s fallen in love with. He misses a beat, he stops, just plainly admiring; he notices your weaker stature, and your crest-fallen face. Paler skin, and limp limbs. And for that mistake, he fails to notice you were being guided in already.

He panics. About to bolt when he suddenly trips over his feet, and gets a bloody knee as the door closes. That doesn’t stop Atsumu, no, he’s dealt with much worse; one of which was the pain of not having you in his life. So he runs, and he sees the wheelchair you resided in enter the elevator; and once again, he swears, he swears, that his breath catches in his throat as he sees your eyes, and you see his.

And maybe he didn’t know, and maybe you didn’t know, but for the first time in months, you both saw colors.

“She was there, ‘Samu, I was sure of it!” Atsumu yells even in the midday of the bustling Onigiri Miya.

“Yer delusional as always, ‘Sumu. Ya should get yer head checked.” Osamu says from the kitchen in the back, there was faint squealing from the men and women alike in the restaurant. Feeling blessed for being able to witness the Miya twins in one sitting. And bantering, no less; even if it was over a girl.

“I can’t have mistaken it. I know when I see ma’ girl, Samu. Ya know it.” Atsumu groans, burying his head in his arms on the counter. “But when I asked the nurses, none of ‘em are giving me details. They say there ain’t Y/N L/N on their recent list of confined patients.”

Osamu was lucky he was working the kitchen right now, because he was low-key nervous of what to say, to not compromise you. How was his brother so close to it anyway? He wants to drive him away. He thinks he can agree with your rationale, but when he thinks of his brother’s side, wouldn’t it be more painful to just find out that you were just… Gone? His mind was splitting in half because of this dreaded situation, until Atsumu called him out again.

“Hey, ya scrub! Are ya even listening to me?” Atsumu lightheartedly yelled as Osamu’s heart softened. If anything, he didn’t want to see his brother bear the pain of losing you, permanently.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut yer trap. I have a business running here. Yer scaring off the customers.” Osamu says, getting out of the kitchen, arms crossed with a scowl.

“Help me, Samu. I just… Can’t bear to lose her.” Atsumu finally says, with a lace of evident longing. Osamu’s face contorts into a myriad of reactions that he couldn’t pick from. Before he settled with a sigh, and a lean on his forearms to poke his brother roughly on the forehead. A grunt of pain from the blonde.

“The only one who can help ya is yerself. If ya want to go find her, go ahead. Whatever your choice will be, don’t let it end with regret.” Was all he said before he went away to tend to the girls who were about to order, red-faced, and all.

Atsumu didn’t understand it a bit. How was that supposed to help him? He thinks. His fist digging into his cheek, face contorted into heavy thinking. It went on like that. He had no other clue, but he kept visiting the hospital, kept driving through, hoping he could catch a glimpse of you; to prove to himself that you were real. But for the first few days, he had no sign of you whatsoever. He kept bugging the nurses, or at least asking them everyday and ended up getting rejected again, and again, and again.

He sat in his car parked in the hospital on his free-day. As if a lightbulb turned on, he felt stupid for not visiting your workplace. They should at least know something about you, right? You were pretty well-known, and idolized in the industry. So he drove there, he may or may not have sped up a little more than he should but all in good purpose. He arrived there, and immediately knew where to park, the signature spot for everytime he comes to drive you home. Recently hearing that you bought a car when you broke up with him, made him sink a little bit. But he saw the spot was taken, eyebrows furrowing for a little before parking to the spot next to it.

When he got out, he noticed that the car that took your spot had dusting on it. As if it hadn’t been let out in a while. Or used. Quickly putting two-and-two together, maybe this was your car? The one you had bought? And if it hadn’t been used in a while… Then that supports his thoughts about you being in the hospital. His face shifted into worry. That must mean.. Whatever you had been sick of, was serious if you haven’t been using your car as often, considering your job was hectic.

He shook the thoughts off for a while, determined to find more clues about you instead. But he thinks the search suddenly became too easy when he suddenly heard a few gossiping women.

“Oh, poor Ms. L/N… She’s been hospitalized for a month now.”

“Really? Have you heard of any reason why?”

“I’m still unsure but I heard it’s chronic, and she doesn’t really have long.”

He sucks in a harsh breath. What? His ears perk up more to their conversation. He hides behind a wall, he assumes that they’re probably heading for their lunch break as a group right now.

Then a snicker, “I know this is kind of mean, but who’ll be replacing her now? Surely her position is up for debate.”

Atsumu’s face darkens at this. Stepping out of the wall as his big frame became all the more intimidating, “I mean, she’ll be biting the dust sooner or—”

“Shut your damn mouth, filthy whore.” Atsumu says with a sneer. Chin up, looking down. “Continue that sentence and I’ll see who bites the fuckin’ dust first.” A whimper, “It’s him again!” Shuffled feet, then they’re gone and out of his sights.

It takes a sigh, and a slump in his posture before everything sinks in. What does this mean? Is it.. True?

He shook his head, sure, you weren’t looking so good when he last saw you. You looked especially sick. But it was like nobody, not even the universe, had wanted him to see you. He thought back to the gossiping workers earlier. It’s him again? Atsumu hasn’t visited in a while, and he doesn’t think that he’s seen them… Oh.

Fuck, Osamu.

He could pass off as a professional racer with the speed he was driving at, only lucky enough to not have any cops tailing him. He was breathing heavily, his brother knew about you and didn’t tell him anything apart from that vague statement a few days ago? He couldn’t help the light betrayal he felt but in all honesty, he’d much rather force his brother to take him to you now. So when he arrived in Onigiri Miya, he didn’t waste a second dragging his brother out who was grumbling incessantly.

“The fuck ‘Sumu, I have a business to run!”

“No you, The fuck ‘Samu. You knew where Y/N was? Take me to her, now.” Atsumu said, foot on the ground, he won’t let anything come between his decisions now. Taking the bag of Onigiri from Osamu’s hand, “I’ll take this too. I’ll pay for it, I need to give a treat at least but we’re kind of in a hurry.” Osamu sighed, finally getting the gist of the situation. Deciding to spare his brother, he’d have to apologize to you later for spilling the beans. But he thinks he needs to let his brother let his feelings out as well.

“Okay.”

“No, you don’t have any other cho—Okay. Okay, get in the car.”

Osamu briefly yells at the part-timer he recently hired, telling them to take over for a while. To which they nodded eagerly, and so, the brothers left. Save for the quiet ride for the first few minutes. “...How—” Atsumu clears his throat, “How is she?”

A quiet beat, Osamu thinks of his answer. He settles for a passive one, “Okay.”

“Hn.” Atsumu grunts.

Osamu leans back on the passenger seat, “Just… Just make sure you don’t regret any of this.”

Atsumu raises a thick brow at this, “Why would I?”

“I think you already know why.”

He sucks in a harsh breath at this, and the silence remains. Atsumu reaches the hospital, parks the car, and Osamu leads the way to your room. Every step Atsumu took felt like the ground was shaking and trying to eat him whole. He wanted to see your pretty face again, your smile that could make his day whole and puff his chest out, or your hands that would comb through his hair and ask how it’s so soft when he bleaches it regularly.

So why was he seeing your writhing body under nurses yelling your name this time. Osamu breathes in, slowly understanding the situation as he quickly glances at his brother who was frozen. Both of them kept walking, until they were in front of what was supposed to be your room. Door open, and multiple people, trying to keep you alive. He hears that the doctor is coming, that you should wait, that you’ll get better in no time, at this point Atsumu didn’t know if the reassurances were for him instead.

When he sees your weak hand gripping the railing of your bed, he breaks. The bag of Onigiri long forgotten on the floor as he runs towards your bed.

“Darling, hey, hey, Angel, you—Yer okay, yeah? You’ll be fine, please be okay.” Atsumu says with shaky hands gripping yours, it was intensely cold, as if you weren’t even alive in the first place. He wishes so much that he was the one to give you warmth. “Look at me, you’ll be okay.”

And for the second time in a while, your eyes meet his, your weak, fragile, pretty little eyes; finally meeting him. The nurses noticed you calming down more, but your state wasn’t getting any better. They were initially going to let Atsumu out, but noticing the intimate relationship you two seemed to have displayed, they decided against it. More focused on bringing you back to life.

You had the heart surgery. You took the leap to extend your life, ever since you caught a glimpse of him a few days back; you just knew that the biggest regret you’d ever have is to never try. You told Akaashi when he visited that you were deciding on it, and he was supportive. He was really supportive. But you weren’t blind that it was a risk that may also shorten your life instead. Though wasn’t that what you were asking for, this whole time?

So maybe the time you got out of the surgery unscathed was the calm before the storm, it was the calm before this. But you were glad that even through your hazy vision, it was him that showed. It was Atsumu that kept telling you to look into his pretty eyes, and tell you that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu thinks that even in this situation, you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. So when the most beautiful thing slipped from his grasp, with no chance of clutching it back; his heart is torn, and burnt into crisps, non-existent flakes as his mind replays every memory he’s ever had with you, and how he was standing and watching warm, sunny spring turn into the ruthless, cold winter.

Osamu watched his brother break down in front of your bed, his own tears mixing in the lot, his cap covering most of his face. Another familiar figure that frequented visits with you, a solemn expression on his usual calm face. Heavy feeling on his chest, Akaashi approached the man who lay on his knees in front of your bed while the nurses that were scrambling to keep your life had promptly announced the date and time of your death.

Akaashi handed the box in his hand towards Atsumu who was kneeling with all his might, head on the ground, continuously asking for forgiveness from you, continuously asking for more time, just a little more. He hates this, he hates it. Because, when it sank in, you were gone.

The scene of your death. ⁆ To Visualize :) But instead of it being Kousei playing the piano, it's Atsumu when he plays volleyball, but when someone comes up to him, tapping on his back with a bright smile for an interview after the game; it's not you.

[serenasoutherlyns]

Not a Summer Crush Part Seven

a/n: It's heeeeere! The night before my classes start for the fall. There's a timeskip from the previous part-- Caroline, Alex, and Casey have all been together for about a month and it's the transition between fall and summer. This one features fighting and humor and lots of Jack McCoy. Any and all feedback makes my world!

Part Seven

The weeks passed in late nights spent in the same office, in morning lattes and afternoon runs (that often ended in the kinds of showers that don’t save water, with the almost frantic pulling off of clingy clothing, with breathy “god yes”-es and rushing to the door when either of you heard Alex’s key in the lock). Jack McCoy noted with pride how efficient it appeared your bureau had become since the summer started.

It was important to maintain a good amount of discretion. As progressive as the world may be becoming, you knew that the DA’s office had to keep up appearances; that it wouldn’t be good for you, and Jack (and, by extension, you again) for the media to get wind of your relationship. Besides, you wanted to keep it personal, special.

But oh. The thrill of the honeymoon phase is so irresistible.

A Friday night, one where the air began to have the kind of bite that previewed the coming fall, found you and Alex together in a candlelit restaurant waiting for Casey to join you. You had some sense, choosing a place not normally frequented by the Hogan Place set, in the opposite direction from your apartment. You set your glass of wine beside Alex’s and took her hand in yours, above the table this time. You couldn't resist leaning in, kissing her softly.

“Caroline,” she said as you pulled away, smiling at you with the same look you’d first seen months ago, that you hadn’t known was what it was until you’d seen it over and over as she pulled you tighter into her arms.

“Alex,” you said, enticingly, all but batting your eyelashes. She ran her fingers along yours in apology. “I know,” you said, placing your hands back on the table, leaning back against the booth seat. “We could always meet Casey when she gets to your place,” you said, looking at your phone. “Except she’s almost here.”

Alex laughed lightly. “You’re insatiable,” she scolded you, teasingly. You shrugged, knowing it was accurate. “And I’m hungry.” She picked up her menu.

Across the room, around the corner, sitting at a single table, Jack McCoy returned his focus to his book, trying to convince himself he hadn’t seen what he thought he did.

---

Jack was on high alert at the office. He had been too far away, he couldn’t be sure. And it was such an out of the way place-- he went there when he didn’t want every law student and defense attorney on the island to vie for a piece of his ear. So it couldn’t’ve been them, Jack thought. Who am I kidding? That’s exactly the kind of place they’d go. After all-- Jack knew from affairs.

He wouldn’t have expected this of Alex Cabot, knowing how in love she and Casey were. Though, now he considered the possibility, the two of you seemed to gravitate towards one another in a characteristic way. He remembered seeing her hand linger on your shoulder a beat too long in the courthouse hallway.

Who knows, he’d always expected Mike and Connie would go for it one day, and they still hadn’t. When Erika Keller and Anna Mikhailova had filed their disclosure he could’ve sworn he’d needed to get his eyes checked, having heard the way the two of them could argue. Maybe he wasn’t the best judge of things. Because I’m looking for myself in other people. He leaned in his chair. He’d do the introspection later. For now, he’d do what he could to keep one of his bureau chiefs out of a public scandal. Besides, they were too far away. It could’ve been anybody’s curls bouncing in laughter, could’ve been anyone’s impeccable posture. He hoped.

He made a point that Monday around noon to personally stop by the junior office on your floor, but found only Nick Anderson (who, he remembered, he needed to talk to about a possible change of bureaus) with his head buried in a journal.

“Mr. McCoy,” he said as soon as he realized he wasn’t alone, snapping the book shut harder than he needed to. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Nick,” Jack said, a little disappointed that he’d roused the guy from what was clearly riveting reading. “I was just looking for Caroline.”

Anderson’s face fell. Evidently, he was used to that line of inquiry. Poor guy. McCoy remembered the days when he’d given the least helpful junior ADAs piles of nothing to keep them out of his hair. No obvious changes, Jack noticed as he looked around your side of the office. No notes or photos or out-of-the-ordinary gifts. Though, someone needs to show this woman the value of an organized space, he thought. It’d be hard to notice anything among the pile of papers.

“Mr. McCoy?” he heard Anderson say.

“Yeah?” he replied, somewhat irritated.

“Oh um,” he said, what little confidence he had faltering. “I just said she was in Ms. Cabot’s office, sir.”

Jack’s stomach dropped. That may as well be “step one” in the old Jack McCoy playbook, get her in your space as often as possible. Oh come on, Jack. She’s her boss. They’re probably going over witness statements. Right. And how many witness statements did Sally and I review together while I was still going home to Ellen? He swallowed. “Thank you. And you don’t need to ‘sir’ me anymore. You’ve earned your desk.”

“Yes s-- got it, Mr. McCoy.” Anderson returned to his book. Jack continued down the hall.

---

“You really think she’s being honest?” Alex’s question was audible through her slightly-open door.

“She’s our witness!” you said, matching her tone. Somehow, the mood in the office was light even in your disagreement.

“Witnesses lie,” Jack said, surprising the both of you as he nudged his way in the room.

“When it’s in their best interest,” you said, acknowledging him with a nod in his direction. Jack liked how you didn’t let etiquette get in the way of your arguments. “Alex,” you said, pointing your gaze at her. I know that look. “What good does it do her to lie about who she was with?”

Alex fired right back at you, not bringing McCoy into the conversation. “She avoids embarrassment? Guilt? Fear? I’m not putting her on the stand unless we can verify her testimony.”

“Then we’re looking at an acquittal,” you said dryly.

“Because I won’t suborn perjury? O ye of little faith,” Alex responded. Jack caught a playful lilt in her voice. He was liking this less and less with each piece of evidence he uncovered.

“Do you know for certain she’s lying?” Jack said, breaking the intensity in the room.

“No, but--” Alex said.

“Exactly--” you said at the same time.

“Are you certain she’s telling the truth?” He asked. “This is People v Buckman?” he clarified. Alex nodded. You pushed an offending curl out of your eyes. “I would probably put her on the stand,” you smirked, “and when defense -it’s Elsie Campbell, right?- I’d have no recourse when defense tears her story to pieces.” You shrugged, never minding being the first to concede defeat.

“I’ll see if Detective Rollins is up for a coffee break,” you said, grabbing your phone and attache, but, Jack noticed, leaving your cardigan hanging on the extra hook. “Sometimes I wish I’d stayed in California,” you said, “reciprocal discovery would be pretty sweet.”

“Ouch,” Alex said as you walked out of the office. You waved a hand over your shoulder.

“Did you need something, Jack?” Alex asked, glad she’d known him long enough to be casual.

“Nothing,” he lied, and when she looked puzzled, said, “I was actually checking on the Buckman case.”

“I’m in no need of supervision,” Alex said under her breath. “Anything else I can clarify for you?”

Tell me I’m wrong about this, he thought. “No,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve got it under control.”

---

Of course, if Jack McCoy had been a more athletically inclined man, he may have run into you and Casey in the park two days before the restaurant, cooling down from the 5 and a half miles you’d done. He may have seen you tug on the hem of Casey’s tank top, seen her whisper something in your ear that made you blush and laugh, he may have caught the split second her lips met your jawline, seen the two of you heading off for the subway together.

And if he’d seen that first he may have tried to convince himself that it was another red ponytail and another person’s graceful lines. That there were so many people who jogged in that park, that it couldn't have been you.

He would’ve made a point to stop by the juniors’ office, maybe earlier in the day. Nick Anderson would’ve told him you were in Casey’s office and his stomach would’ve dropped. That may as well be “step one” in the old Jack McCoy playbook, get her in your space as often as possible. Oh come on, Jack. She’s her boss. They’re probably preparing for an admissibility hearing. He’d remind himself to schedule a meeting with Anderson for the end of the week.

He’d continue down the hall to find you and Casey sitting together, wordlessly handing one another documents highlighted in different colors. He’d remember the last time he was that in sync with an assistant and an undeniable flutter of recognition would’ve hit him.

But he hadn’t been in the park.

---

Your phone buzzed on the counter. You dried your hands quickly on the dishtowel, you turned off the tap. In the living room, Ashley was gathering the toys and books scattered about. Ramin was late at the office.

1 new message from: Alex to: you, Casey:

Alex: I just had quite the meeting with Jack.

---

“You wanted to see me, Jack?” Alex said, entering his office after most of the lawyers had gone home or

retreated to their own offices for the night.

“Actually, I’d really rather I didn’t need to,” he said. Alex’s concern showed on her face.

“Is this about the Buckman case? I know it’s going to be extra time to look into her statement,

but I really think this could be a break in the case, if she’s telling the truth or lying, so I thought it was justified. I could probably still make the argument without her, but it feels worth it--”

“No, the case is fine. Besides, it’s your case. I-- Alex we need to talk about… it’s maybe a more personal issue,” Jack said, shifting his hands’ position on the desk in front of him.

Alex’s eyes widened. “Are you speaking as my boss or as my friend?” Jack melted, remembering that they were friends, and that he could approach the topic as a friend. Though, usually, he wouldn’t have to confront a friend about their romantic life. Or if he did, it wouldn’t have professional repercussions. Electoral repercussions, he heard a younger, more emotional version of himself say to Adam Schiff 20 years ago. Sorry, Adam.

“Both, I hope, now that you mention it.”

Alex paused a moment, considering what to say. She had an idea what Jack was getting at, but no idea how he had come to that conclusion. He probably has some kind of sixth sense, she thought. “Start as my boss.”

Jack took a deep breath. “OK. I’ll tell you something Adam Schiff told me when I was in your position,”

Alex felt the need to stop him, to find out exactly what he thought he knew. “Wait. Before you reprimand me. What position am I in? What do you think I’m doing?”

“Jesus, Alex. What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. She didn’t answer him. “You’re having an affair with Caroline Haley.” He wasn’t asking her a question, and the disappointment in his voice was wounding. Alex took a deep breath. “You’re not going to deny it?”

“What makes you think we’re having an affair?” She was determined to out-wit him, get him to show her all his evidence before letting go of anything he was unaware of. Under New York law it is the prosecution’s responsibility to disclose any exculpatory evidence, she thought. And a lawyer who represents herself still has a fool for a client.

Jack looked at her blankly. Was she really going to make him spell it out? Well, he’d missed presenting cases. “I’ve noticed that she spends a lot more time in your office than her own,” he started. Alex’s poker face remained unchanged. “Your conversational style is, quite, amiable, ah,”

She couldn’t suppress a smile, then, biting back a laugh. “My apologies,” she said. “All you have as proof of this alleged affair is friendly conversation and spending time together?”

Jack tried to play into her humor. “I’ll remind you Ms. Novak Cabot,” he said, using her married name to see if it got a reaction (no luck), “that adultery is still a class B misdemeanor in the state of New York.”

Alex snatched that opportunity. He opened the door, your honor. “And how many three-month stays do you owe the good people of New York, Mr. McCoy?” He looked caught-out. The upper hand was hers. “Are you sure you’re not just seeing your old habits?”

“You know, it’s funny you should say that. Because after this coming election, I was going to ask you to be my EADA. But you know I can’t do that if there is even the slightest appearance of impropriety.”

“So this is about election results? You and I both know my patience for politics is--”

“Limited, yes. But don’t tell me you’re not the slightest bit interested.”

“I’d have to think about it, Jack,” she said honestly. It seemed to surprise him, which didn’t surprise her. He seemed to forget, often, that she’d arguably done much more important work (and he seemed to forget that Tracey Kibre had turned down the same position more than once, that some people enjoyed seeing their partners and the insides of their apartments every once in a while). “But that’s not why you wanted to talk to me, and you’ve yet to convince me that you have any idea about any affair.”

“Where were you last Friday evening?” Jack asked her, in full cross-examination confidence.

Alex flinched, her first misstep since she’d come in. She wasn’t going to out-right lie to him if disguising the truth would do. However he knew this (if he knew anything), she had no way of knowing how much he knew. “I had dinner with Caroline at a restaurant near her apartment in Brooklyn.”

“A working dinner?”

“I can’t be friends with my colleague?”

“Trilogy isn’t a particularly platonic place as far as I know,”

“You spied on me outside of work?”

“I happened to be there,” Jack said. Alex rolled her shoulders back, trying to let go of some of the anger she had at what felt like an invasion of her privacy, even if it had been public. “I saw her kiss you, Alex. I know.” Alex didn’t answer him. Jack, uncomfortable with the silence, said “I really do understand. I sympathize with what you’re going through, I know it isn’t easy.”

Her frustration gathered itself in her cold fingertips that she realized were gripping the arms of her chair, hard. “Actually, you don’t understand,” she said, quietly, as politely as she could. “You have an incomplete picture of the nature of our relationship.” Jack opened his mouth to argue. “I won’t say any more,” Alex said, certain, “except that Caroline has done absolutely nothing wrong, and if you go after her about any of this, you will have my resignation.” Jack nodded.

“You understand how something like this could look to the public? You understand that your position is at stake?”

“I understand.”

“I mean, just the power dynamic alone, disregarding the infidelity, and I hate to say it, but you know how rampant homophobia still is.” She clenched her jaw, but she didn’t look guilty.

“I know. Now, I’d like you to be my friend for a moment,” she said. “Please.”

He smiled weakly.

“As your friend, I’d tell you not to cheat on your wife,” Jack said. Alex looked serene.

“I won’t,” she said, rising from her seat. “Goodnight, Jack.” She left faster than he could return the sentiment. He’d hoped he had more comforting things to say. And he wanted to know what on earth she’d meant by “the nature” of their relationship. He trusted she’d take extra care now that she knew he knew. It was not going to be a fun secret to keep.

---

She didn’t tell you what the meeting was about, so you knew it couldn’t have gone well. Quite the meeting. You hoped it wasn’t what you thought it was. You said you’d be there soon. You moved through the apartment quickly, leaving the last of the dishes in the sink, snagging your keys off the hook, tossing them along with your phone into your backpack.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Ashley asked. You knew he’d been looking forward to catching up on episodes of The Bachelor, and you did hate to disappoint him. You looked up from tying your shoes.

“Alex and Casey’s,” you said. His shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.” He rolled his eyes. “What?” you asked. “You can watch without me, you know, I don’t mind.”

“I don’t care about the show,” he said, returning to his tidying.

You stood up, crossing your arms. “Something you want to say?” He shrugged.

“No, no. Go have fun,” he said.

“I don’t think it’s going to be a whole lot of fun,” you said, trying to keep the worry buried. “Alex texted, she said that Jack had called her into his office this evening over something.”

“That surprises you?” Ashley said, his voice high-pitched.

You looked at him with your eyes wide. “I’m sorry?” you said, resisting the urge to raise your voice.

“What did you think was going to happen, Caroline?” he said, with a patronizing look that made your stomach turn.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you said. Two could play at passive aggression.

Ashley laughed bitterly. “I mean, did you not think twice before risking your job, everything you’ve worked towards to be what, the third wheel in a relationship that existed far before you came across it?”

“Ashley,” you warned him.

“I thought you were trying to work on the self-sabotage, I mean, you’ve never even been in a relationship before,”

“That’s not exactly true,” you said. You were starting to feel nauseous. He knew you well enough to know that he was pushing right on all your insecurities.

“That lasted more than a couple months, then, which is hardly anything.”

“I think we’ve gone over that a couple times-- Just because you’re so morally invested in monogamy doesn’t mean it’s for everyone--”

“You really want to be the girl who sleeps with the boss? No, sorry, the girl who sleeps with both of the bosses?”

“It’s-- wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

It was quiet for a moment as the two of you dared the other person to talk first.

“I just don’t think you’re making the best decision,” he said.

“I thought you were happy for me,” you replied, and walked out the door.

---

You didn’t usually ride your bike after dark. It felt right, though, as you went, releasing your nervous (and sad, and angry) energy out through the pedals. Your arms came up in goosebumps, from the chill in the air or the trepidation in your spine. It started to rain.

---

You and Alex arrived almost simultaneously. She was accepting a cup of tea that Casey was offering her when you came in. You were a walking cliché with your hair stuck to the side of your face, shivering. “Hi,” you said, shakily. You hadn’t quite been crying. The insecure part of you felt small, out of place, intrusive: they had this cozy, tidy, warm apartment, mugs of hot tea in their hands; and you were shattering it with the chaos that followed in the wake of your personal life. You were being so selfish, so inconsiderate, bringing your own emotional baggage with you despite Alex being the one having a hard time. For a split second you thought about leaving with no explanation, dashing out almost as soon as you shut the door. Casey held up a mug for you. It was one of a matching set of three.

“Jack thinks we’re having an affair,” Alex said, matter-of-fact, as you slipped out of your shoes and made your way to the counter Casey was leaning against. Alex was pacing, slowly, how she often did when she was figuring something out. You took a sip of your tea, grateful for the warmth, then set it on the counter and rested your head on Casey’s shoulder. She jumped and you laughed, the relief spreading through you. She squirmed as you pressed closer, letting out a squeak at the feeling. You let her go, listening to the quiet creaking of the floor.

“Which us?” you asked, matching the seriousness of the subject again. “All of us?”

“Just you and I,” Alex said.

“How did he come to that conclusion?” Casey asked, knowing there were equal cases to be made for any combination.

Alex stopped moving, pushing herself up to sit on the counter opposite to you. “To begin, he was apparently at Trilogy last Friday night.” The goosebumps threatened to make a repeat appearance. This was your fault.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, your eyes lost in your teacup. “I was reckless.” Out of the corner of your eye, you felt Apollo the duck stare at you accusingly with the stone cold eyes he didn’t have.

“Don’t be sorry. I was there too,” Alex said, meeting your gaze as you looked up. “He didn’t stick around long enough to see Casey.”

“What did you end up telling him?” Casey asked, letting herself be the problem-solver for the night.

“Very little,” she said. “He doesn’t have the complete story. That he should hold off on any judgements unless and until he did.”

“Did it work?” you asked.

“Well enough, I think. You don’t need to worry about your job. I threatened him with my resignation if he said a word to you about it.” Your heart beat faster. Sacrifices for your sake, or the offer of them, made you uneasy.

“You don’t have to put your career on the line for me,” you said, the same shaky tone edging into your voice again. Alex blinked at you, like it was no big deal, like it was the obvious choice. Casey traced circles on your shoulder blade.

“Nobody’s career is at risk, Caroline,” Casey said. “Honestly, imagine the kind of headlines that would break if Jack McCoy fired someone for adultery.”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Alex said, “Jack’s disapproval right now, or how he might react if we just told him what’s going on. He made it clear his objection had more to do with poll numbers than morality.” Ashley’s words echoed in your head. You really want to be the girl who sleeps with the boss-- both of the bosses? Your fear must have been more obvious than you intended. “What’s wrong?” Alex asked you.

You swallowed. “It’s nothing,” you said, stopping yourself from spilling every anxious thought that came to you. “I’m fine. It’ll be fine,” you said, a real smile making its way out of you. You held your hand out for Alex’s and squeezed. She slid off the counter, letting herself be pulled in, letting whatever you weren’t saying stay unsaid for that moment. She also jumped when she first felt your wet clothes against her skin.

“Now, let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” she said. Your mouth was open in amusement as she started off down the hall. You began to follow but Casey stopped you briefly, hooking her ring finger into your belt loop.

“Whatever he said, it isn’t true,” she said, starting to run her warm hands underneath your shirt.

“How did you,” you said, feeling seen. “I didn’t say anything about it.”

“Give me some credit,” she said then kissed you gently, her body warming yours. “I’m very perceptive.” She gripped the bunched-up body of your t-shirt and you slipped your head through the top. Casey placed her palms against your ribs, holding you steady.

“Thank you,” you said, deep and low, as you kissed her again. The two of you, now almost equally damp, joined Alex. Six hands moved slowly, purposefully. Nothing felt desperate, fleeting. Only warmth filled you.

---

taglist: (I'm tagging a couple of my moots who aren’t on the taglist, let me know if you’d prefer I didn’t!)

@addictedtodinosaurs @nocreditinthestraightworld @cmmndrwidw @hi-i-1 @lesbianologist @readerhermit @@alexlivdoncas @laezzzi @imaginaryoperagloves (thank you for your help!!) @swimmingstudentchaos891

[mystic-deep]

“Whipped Cream” - Part 2 | Nanami Kento fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Taking cooking classes seemed like a nice way to relax and sharpen your skills, too bad the teacher hates you.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: explicit content not suitable for minors, nothing graphic but please be advised, light swearing

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: Here's part 2! Things are starting to move in the right direction. Nothing too explicit though, part 3 will be the first real reason. Hope you enjoy and as always, please forgive any errors and mistakes.

♡ ♡ ♡ previous parts: Part 1

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 3.4k

The second the doors of the elevator opened you dashed out, your eyes glancing nervously at your hand watch. Your weekly meeting had lasted longer than expected and now you were running late for your cooking class. You couldn’t wait to add another reason for that jerk to pick on you.

As you hurried through the lobby, the receptionist that you met on Monday noticed you and offered a sympathetic smile.

“Good afternoon! Nanami-sensei forgot some documents so he went back to fetch them from his car, you should hurry up before he returns.”

“Thank you!” You grinned at her and quickened your pace towards your classroom. It was good to know that not every staff member here was a devil in disguise.

You practically barged inside the room and for a second everyone looked at you with hopeful eyes, only to shift into disappointment when they realized it wasn’t Nanami. Or was it perhaps the fact that they all hoped you’d quit and they wouldn’t be forced to deal with you anymore.

Ignore them, this time around you wouldn’t lose your temper and become another subject for them to gossip about when the class was over.

With that thought in mind, and hopeless positivity, you scanned the room and realized that your previous working space had been occupied already. The only free space was at the very front row, near Nanami’s desk. Strange, you were sure that was probably the most sought out station, seeing how close you’d be to the chef.

You pushed your worries to the side and took out your apron from the bag before putting it on. Only a few seconds later the door opened again and Nanami stepped inside.

“Good afternoon and sorry for being late.” He offered a small apologetic smile and deep inside you thought that he was actually really pleasant to look at when he wasn’t criticizing your existence.

The smile vanished quickly when his eyes landed on you and you kicked yourself for finding him attractive just a few second earlier.

“Miss Y/n, as you probably noticed, I’ve moved your seat in front of my desk. After the events from last time, I need to supervise you attentively.”

You fought back the urge to argue, knowing full well that this is what he was looking for. Obviously today was a test of patience, to see how much he could push your buttons until you’d explode.

“Oh I don’t mind, Nanami-san.”

“I would like you to address me as Nanami-sensei or chef Nanami during classes.”

“Of course, Nanami-san.”

He shot you and angry look but you beamed at him innocently. You had told your friend that it would me a miracle if he didn’t kill by the end of the week but now your execution seemed right around the corner.

“Let’s start today’s lesson.” Everyone took out their phones and placed them on their working station.

“Today we’ll be making Paris Brest, it’s a very popular French desert. I’ve sent you the list of ingredients and instructions on the group chat, make sure you read them carefully and if there’s something you don’t understand you have 20 minutes to ask your questions. After that we’ll get started.”

Everyone gave a short nod in reply, well everyone except you. Your hand rose up causing Nanami to arch his brow in annoyance. “Yes, what is it.”

“I’m sorry but I’m not part of the group chat so I don’t have the list of ingredients or instructions.”

“That is, unfortunately for you, not my fault. Yamamoto-san is the admin, it was her idea to stop the waste of paper that we usually printed on in favour of sending everything via chat. You’ll have to talk to her.”

He made a short hand gesture towards one of the older women and you realized with distress that it was the old hag that questioned you during the previous lesson. She didn’t even bother to look up from her phone, like you didn’t even exist.

Fine, no point in begging to be added to some group you didn’t even want to be part of. You were sure you could find some recipes on youtube or something.

As the 20 minutes passed and Nanami began to take questions, your hand went up again but this time he ignored you. You frowned and went back to study the recipe you found. You were going to make this work, you were going to nail this desert and bask in the glory of your achievement.

About an hour and a half later all deserts had been finished and they were now presented to the chef for inspection. Nanami had moved from station to station giving advices to everyone and correcting mistakes here and there. He of course never spared you a glance and you had to admit it was starting to hurt. You didn’t know you craved so much for his approval or was it maybe the fact that it pissed you off to be pushed aside in such a way. At the end of the day you were paying for this course, it seemed unfair to be treated in such a manner.

“Right, let’s see what we have here.” He studied your Paris Brest, probably looking for any mistakes that he could judge. “A bit underdone, the bottom is somewhat soggy.” You bit your tongue and looked at him as he cut a small piece from the desert but didn’t taste it like he did with the rest. “I’ve asked for crème praline but instead you filled it with crème patissiere. Are you perhaps unable to follow instructions?”

“I didn’t have the list of ingredients and I didn’t have your instructions so I had to search for the recipe myself.”

“And I told you to ask Yamamoto-san to add you-”

“No, you said to talk to her as though this wasn’t your responsibility at all! Meanwhile you didn’t bother once to stop by my station and correct me even though you saw I was making custard crème.” Your cheeks turned red from frustration and you clutched your hands in small fists.

“If you don’t plan on teaching me anything then at least have the decency to say so! If I wanted to learn recipes from youtube I would have stayed in the comfort of my home without having to pay a dime for this joke of a class.” So much for keeping a cool head and not letting him get to you.

Nanami was a tall man, you noticed the second he first set foot in the classroom and back in the parking lot when you dropped your key. Yet you didn’t realize just how tall he was, at least compared you, until he was looming over you. His blue eyes had turned icy and his lips had tightened in a small, sharp line, a sign that he was barely keeping his anger in check.

“You will stay after class.” Despite not raising his voice even an octave, he said it in such a strong manner, like a divine command. When your mouth opened he sent you the most chilling glare. “You.will.stay.” With that he returned to his desk and you were left to boil in your frustration.

Class ended in what seemed to be mere seconds and everyone hurried out after saying their good byes, probably not wanting to delay you imminent death.

“Now, let’s talk in my office.” He gestured towards a door just a few feet away from his desk and you followed him as he opened it and stepped inside.

His office was quite impressive and you wondered just how much this school was making for him to afford such luxury. The room had large windows with a nice view of the office buildings in the distance, a solid wooden desk with a black leather chair as well as a couch with a modern looking coffee table. On the walls you could see several certificates and degrees that were framed, probably from all the cooking classes he had taken.

“Please take a seat.” He sat in the leather chair and you sat in from of him, legs crossed and eyes narrowed. Whatever the hell he wanted to discuss it had better be quick, you just wanted to go home and take a hot bath and forget about this miserable day.

“It seems that you are not adjusting well to this course so I will speak to management in order to return your money. No point to continue this if you don’t want to be here.”

“Oh no, you will not make this look like it’s my fault.” You sat up so quickly you thought you sat down on a spring. “You have treated me horrible since the very beginning and now you’re angry that I don’t sit quietly and take your abuse.”

“If you think that not praising you for the disastrous bake you did on Monday, a bake that I might add you half assed the whole time and then proceeded to blame everything except yourself, was too harsh for your sensitive self then it just further proves how unsuited you are for my class.” He sat up as well, his expression mirroring your own. “The class is a joke, the students are a joke, I am a joke. It’s all a big joke to you, the successful business woman who has no time to waste on such a silly course.”

You felt waves of anger washing over you but deep down inside what you felt more was sadness. Sure he was part right about what he said, you did look down on your classmates and you did insult him back then in the parking lot. Still, it wasn’t that you thought so highly of yourself, it was the opposite actually. Your self-doubt sky rocketed when he pointed all the flaws of your cookies and you couldn’t stand the way those women had chuckled gleefully in the background. Of course, you’d rather eat your fist than to admit to all of that.

“I don’t think this class is a joke and I have nothing against my classmates, it’s just that some of them don’t want me here. As for yourself, you’ve treating me differently than the rest of the class so the problem here is you not me.” You crossed your arms and looked at him in a defiant way. “Rather than returning my money, I want to be moved to a different course where someone else will properly teach me.”

He couldn’t have looked more shocked or upset if you had punched him in the face. This must had been for him the ultimate insult, for you to suggest that his teaching was bad and that someone else could do a better job. Truthfully, you weren’t questioning his skill as a teacher, just that you two obviously couldn’t get along. You weren’t sure that the point came across though.

“You insolent little-” He stopped himself and took a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to strangle you. “You are absolutely impossible to deal with.”

“No, it’s you who just doesn’t know how to deal with me and I have had enough. There is nothing you can teach me.” With that you grabbed your bag in which you had previously stuffed your apron and hurried towards the door. As your hand reached for the knob, you felt his presence behind you and his left hand slammed against the door while his right quickly turned the key to lock it.

You turned to glare at him but as your eyes met his, your words got stuck in your throat. He looked at you with such intensity that it made your body temperature rise.

“I could teach you a lot of things if only you’d learn to keep that little mouth of yours shut.” The way he said things made you think he wasn’t necessarily referring to cooking.

His right hand suddenly reached for the back of your head and he pushed you forward, taking your lips in a hungry kiss. At first you didn’t move, you were too shocked to fully process what was happening. As his tongue slowly began to push against your lips you parted them and gave him full access to your mouth. Your hands reached for his broad shoulders and you instinctively stood on your toes in order to kiss him back.

The kiss only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like a life time when you finally parted. The anger from his eyes had been replaced with what seemed like hunger and he licked his lips making your knees to tremble.

“You could actually pass as cute when you’re not trying to push all my buttons.”

His words were like a wakeup call and your eyes widened at what had just transpired inside his office. He kissed you, but more importantly, you kissed him back! Not only that but you did it with such desire that no amount of denial would get you out of this one.

“Why-Why did you-”

“Because I wanted to.” Just like that, because he wanted to. He trapped you in his office and kissed you just because he wanted to.

He grabbed your wrist, quite gently to your surprise, and began to pull you away from the door.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you silly on the desk, what else.” Your eyes practically popped out of their sockets and you froze in place.

“I’m joking, obviously.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Your fist aimed for his shoulder but he dodged the punch without a problem. He then sat down on the couch and pulled your body so that you would seat next to him.

“Now then, let’s discuss a few rules if this is to continue.” What exactly was he talking about? What did he think was going to continue?

“Whatever happens in this room stays in this room. Once we’re out the door we’re back to teacher-student relationship and nothing more. You’ll give me your phone number so I can send you further recipes and set up meetings but we’ll never discuss anything that goes on here via messages or calls.”

“And what’s going to happen here?” You asked feelings a mixture or excitement and curiosity wash over you.

“That depends a lot on you.” He gave a little shrug as his hand landed on your thigh and began to smoothly move upward. “Depends on how obedient you are, show me that you want to learn.” You almost found it impossible to breath as his hand began to massage your flesh through the fabric of your pants. Why, why in the world didn’t you wear a skirt today?

“First, I think it’s fair to ask if I should be worried about you seeing someone. I don’t want to ruin a relationship or marriage.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” After your promotion from last year it had been nearly impossible with your work schedule to form any kind of meaningful relationship and truth be told it was starting to show. God knows how much time had passed since you shared such a deep kiss and you wanted more of that. Even though there was a part of you that worried about what you were getting yourself into, you absolutely needed to feel that light headed again. Also, you knew that what he had offered was just a taste, just a fraction of what he could do to you.

“What about you? Is this something that you do often?” His hand on your thigh tightened and you let out a little whimper.

“I know you have the tendency to always believe the worse of me, but no, I’ve never done this with anyone. All the more reasons to set up clear rules. Obviously I’m also not in a relationship.”

You didn’t question him- he indeed didn’t seem the type to just sleep around with his students. If anything those women from your class would give and arm and a leg just to be here, in his office, sitting on the couch with his hand on their thigh. Yet for some reason, he chose you. The annoying, opinionated one that always rubbed him the wrong. Or maybe, you were actually rubbing the right way.

“I came to the conclusion that the only way for you to behave during my class is if we can take care of some of that pent up frustration you have.” You cheeks coloured red and you hated to admit it but he was right.

“What about you?” Your fingers began to travel provocatively to the growing bulge in his pants but he grabbed you by the wrist before you had the chance to reach your destination. You whined a little but he just chuckled and kissed the inside of your palm.

“Obviously, I’m not immune or I wouldn’t be here, offering to give you extra lessons.” He let go of your hand, his expression turning seriously.

“Before we continue, I need you to agree that you will behave accordingly.” You nodded in agreement, a bit too quick for your liking.

“I want to make it clear that we’ll not be dating. The second your course ends, so will this arrangement. We won’t meet anywhere else except here and once that door is locked you will be obedient. I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with, but I want you to be opened to try new things, do you think you can do that?”

You nodded again finding it almost impossible so seat still. You were both nervous and excited for this little arrangement and you couldn’t wait to get started.

“Good, one last thing that we need to set straight.” He grabbed your waist and manoeuvred your body until you were sitting in his lap, his hand gripping your chin so he could look straight in your eyes.

“Inside this room you’ll address me as sensei or sir, none of that Nanami-san bullshit you pulled earlier. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes...sir.”

“Good girl.” He offered you a low chuckle and a light smack on your ass. You were absolutely desperate for more of his touch and seeing the need in your eyes, he pulled you in for another deep kiss.

As his tongue explored your mouth, your hips moved against his and his hands gripped your waist in order to stop the friction. He pulled away and looked at you in a threatening way.

“Don’t be greedy, your lessons haven’t started yet.” You wanted to protest but you were also afraid that he would end this before it even had the chance to start.

His slowly unbuttoned the first two buttons of your shirt and let his mouth fall on the swelling of your breast. He licked the flesh and nibbled, making your head fall back in pleasure.

“N-Nanami-sensei.” You mewled his name and he smiled against your breast. After a few more seconds he pulled away, admiring his work. The first mark he had left on your body and the promise of many more.

“Up you go.” He gave you another light smack on your bottom and with trembling legs you moved away from his lap.

“The next meeting will be and Saturday, to make up for the time you wasted today.” You frowned slightly, wondering how you’ll be able to resists until the weekend.

“Don’t make that face, I promise to give you and extra reward if you do well during Friday’s lesson.”

Your expression turned into an excited one and he laughed whole heartedly. “You’re so easy to read.”

With that, your little discussion had come to an end. He unlocked the door of his office and you stepped outside, practically waltzing through the classroom, down the hallway and through the lobby. The nice receptionist asked you something but you couldn’t register anything that she was saying so you just smiled like an idiot and waved her goodbye.

As the elevator door closed, a part of you began to worry about what you were getting yourself into. You weren’t a reckless person and you knew what scandal this could cause if you were caught. Still, it was even more dangerous for Nanami who could risk getting fired, so you had to trust that he knew what he was doing. All worries aside, on Saturday you were going to wear a damn skirt.

[klbwriting]

Pirate’s Heart - Chapter 5

Parade Music Part 1

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: Y/N is saved and Kaz finds something troubling

Notes: so this was originally going to be longer but it was getting to be like 2500 words and I figured I would split it into 2 chapters, also we get to see how Y/N and Kaz met and the flirting is just *chef’s kiss*

Taglist:  @sixofshadowandbone​ @thedelusionreaderbitch​ @itsemy01​ @angelicdanvers​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @screen-to-stage​ @aysegust​ @sagewrites111​ @lilyoflower​ @hey-peeps​ @starjane312​ @spawn0fsatan​ @myalupinblack​ @ameliathackray​ @moondustmarauder​

​

(its been too long since I’ve seen Milo)

This is parade music

Good grade music

Party like you just paid or got laid music

              Kaz had panicked when they started going to fast in the boat, they all looked shocked as Y/N was just pushing them, moving so fast in the water. Then he felt the boat falter for just a moment and blood was moving behind her legs in the water.  A bullet must have hit her and for whatever reason Kaz felt his heart was in his throat, worried she might stop and they would all be killed, worried that she was going to die.  He wasn’t sure at what point in this little jaunt he had really gotten attached to Lady Heartless but now he was.  They had always been friendly, even as rivals, but he never felt worried about her.

              Just after he was made captain of the Crow their small crew needed money to get more hands on deck so they had decided to hit up a small navy treasury on Port Du Nonce.  They noticed another ship was there, a pleasure vessel that they ignored, assuming it was just for the men.  They were even excited, hopefully most of the guards would have abandoned their posts to go party for the night.  They were shocked to find the guards dead, all of them.  Inside the treasury was a small group of young women, putting the money and gold bullion into bags and barrels.  

              “Can we help you gentlemen?” one of the women, the oldest of the group asked, holding her machete casually at her side, a pistol poised in her other hand. Kaz had considered his options, there were more of her crew than theirs, the odds were not good.

              “Who are you?” he asked, glaring.  He had wanted to make a striking first impression on his first job but clearly this would not be happening.  

              “I am…” the woman paused as if no one had asked her that before.  “Lady Heartless.”  Kaz had laughed at that.  What a dumb name.  “Have you come to steal our treasure?”

              “No, we came to steal Pekka Rollins treasure, but it appears you’ve done that already,” he said.  He didn’t know the moment it happened but something shifted then, maybe it was something he said or did but she put her weapons away and snapped her fingers.

              “Come on ladies, we have enough treasure, let’s leave the rest for the boys here,” she said.  The girls just nodded and grabbed onto what they were carrying.  She picked up a couple full bags of her own.  “There, now we each have some treasure to get our pirate careers going.  Take this half and stay out of my life, I’ve already had my life ruined once I don’t want it happening again.”  Kaz had watched her walk away and in that moment decided he was going to mess with her, fuck up every heist she tried to do if he could, generosity was a weakness he would exploit at every turn.  

              At first that’s what he did, he would do any job that he thought she might be at, noticing her pattern of only attacking pleasure vessels or navy treasuries or mining sights, anything that Rollins had a hand in.  His uncle must have done whatever she had said had ruined her life. They met often at first and finally she had gotten tired of him.  

              “You are ruining my life,” she one night when she had just finished kicking his ass and taking a job out from under him, something he normally did to her. “Now, stay down and don’t make me shoot you.  You’re a boy trying to be a man, grow up a little bit before you try crossing me again.”  

              “I’m not here to ruin your life, only fuck up your night,” he said, moving to stand.  She sighed and shook her head.

              “I really didn’t want to do this,” she muttered.  He lunged for her, ready to take her out with his cane, when she shot him.  It only grazed him really but it was the first time he had been shot and instead of pushing through it and attacking he just grabbed her sleeve, pulling it down and seeing the scarring on her chest.  It was then, as he lay bleeding, that he put together who she was.  

              “Wait…” he had called but she kept walking, yelling for his crewmates to come retrieve him before leaving him there.  

              Kaz touched the scar on his side from her shooting him as he cleaned up from their job.  She had been taken to his medic’s room to be looked at and he had sent the others to clean up.  The ship was in a state of paused motion right now, everything seeming slow as they waited to hear about the other captain.  He knew that the others had questions, but it wasn’t his place to answer them.  He had left them waiting for word on her while he changed and wiped off the blood. He had already been sick from what had been happening but seeing her carried below, pale and mumbling incoherently had made it worse.  He couldn’t stomach going to see her while she was worked on so instead he decided to go through the bag she had retrieved.

              He hid the will and all of Rollins’s identification papers, knowing that the crew did not need to know about any of that.  He counted the heaps of money and bonds finding that there more than he thought before.  This was enough for both ships to function for a year without needing to do another job. He set them aside and started to pour through the business documents, wanting to see what was going on amongst the islands.  He froze when he found a parchment that held plans for harnessing the power of a sea witch to destroy the reef and open them back up to the world again.  That would be a problem.  More access meant more pirates, more competition.  Kaz clenched his jaw, he didn’t like the sound of this. He slid that paper aside to show Y/N later, if she survived.  He was just finishing a rather boring stacks of documents when Jesper came in without knocking.

              “Didn’t I tell you next time you came in unannounced you would lose a finger?” Kaz asked, looking up from the parchment.  Jesper took a step back out the door and knocked on it.  Kaz nodded, not really wanting to get more blood on him tonight anyway.  

              “I just wanted to let you know that Y/N is ok, awake, the medic gave her a crutch to use and why the hell didn’t anyone tell us she could do that? What is she?” Jesper asked.  Kaz glared at him.  “You know what, I will just go and ask her, um, goodnight.”  He closed the door in a hurry.  Kaz let out a breath of relief and sat back, a small smile coming to his face.

                Y/N woke up, sitting up quick and gripping her head.  It ached like someone had hit her with a hammer.  She looked around the small cabin, slowly figuring out that it was the medic’s room.  She looked at her leg, seeing her pantleg pushed up to her knee, a bandage wrapped around it.  There was a crutch leaning on the bed.  She gingerly swung her legs over the side and stood, leaning on the crutch.  She remembered swimming and the pain, she must have been shot during the escape.  She needed to get some seawater and kelp, that should help her heal faster. She pushed open the door of the cabin and walked out.  Inej and Nina were waiting for her.

              “Let us help you,” Nina said, offering her arm.   Y/N took it gratefully and walked to the steps.  “What do you need?”

              “Find out if they have any kelp and seawater aboard, I don’t think I can swim enough to get it myself, it’ll help me heal up faster,” she said.  Inej nodded and went off to do as asked.  “When she gets back I’ll explain everything.” Nina smiled.

              “Its ok, we kind of figured you were a mermaid with the whole finding you in the jungle thing, and you know not aging for 5 years,” she said.   Y/N laughed a little, feeling a great fondness for her ladies.  She wished she could love them, she really did.  

              “Yes, but I didn’t tell you everything and you should know, I mean, I’m sure you’ve pieced together parts of my story, but I should tell you both all of it,” she said.  Nina got her above deck and sat her on a bench near the side of the ship.  She stretched out her leg and saw the rest of the crew eyeing her.  Ah, so everyone knew there was mermaid aboard now, great.  Inej soon came back with some kelp and fresh seawater.  

              “Captain Kaz told them to get it after he knew you survived,” she said. Y/N raised an eyebrow but just nodded, taking the kelp and dipping it in seawater.  “Nina, remove the bandage please.”  Nina did as asked, her fingers quick and concise.  Once removed Y/N handed her the kelp.  “Now wrap that like a bandage.”  Once again the girl did as asked before sitting back.  

              “How does that help?” Nina asked.  

              “Mermaids get their abilities from the water, we are born into it and we spend our lives taking care of it and the creatures in it so it in turn takes care of us.  I’m sure you saw me swimming, it gives us some extra strength and speed in the water and also can help us heal quickly.  That wound should be gone in a couple days.  Send word to the Menagerie to meet us at the rendezvous point at Pirate Island,” she said.  Inej ran off to do that.  Jesper, Matthias, and Wylan joined them soon, offering their regards and telling her they were happy she was alive.  She looked at the stern and saw Kaz watching her.  He didn’t approach so she just nodded to him and he nodded back to her.  

              During the voyage to Pirate Island, the farthest island from Argoes, Y/N slept a lot in Kaz’s room, healing up.  Kaz avoided his room mostly, only sleeping in short bursts so that he could not be around her.  She looked dead still when she slept and he couldn’t handle it.  After Jordie he couldn’t handle someone else he cared about being hurt like this.  He scowled at himself.  Admitting he cared for Y/N just annoyed him, he already cared too much about other people and its not like she could ever really care about him.  She could like him enough to not want him to die, but actually care?  Never.

              He hadn’t meant to be in the room when she woke up but here she was, just a few hours before they would be getting to their destination, sitting up, looking much better, eyes finally focused and sharp again.  Kaz had been coming in to change his shirt but stopped, trying to close the door again but she had seen him.

              “Kaz Brekker get in here and acknowledge that I’m alive,” she demanded. He groaned internally.  This fucking woman.  He entered, glaring at her.  “Don’t be like you’re happy I’m still breathing.”  He dropped the glare but still didn’t look pleased.

              “What do you want?  Aren’t you still resting?” he asked, leaning to his cane.  She leaned down and peeled the kelp from her leg, showing him a scar where the wound had been.  “Miracles seem to happen every day for you it seems.”

              “Not the day I met you cranky,” she grumbled.  This brought out the glare again.  “Why have you been avoiding me?  We should be talking about what we found from Rollins’s desk and how to divvy up the cash.”  Kaz didn’t want to answer her question so he avoided it.

              “There’s enough in there for each of us to live a year without actually pirating,” Kaz said.  Y/N’s face broke out in a grin that rivaled the sun.  “We can do the official split after the party.”

              “Party?” she asked.  Kaz was throwing a party?

              “It’s the biggest bounty we’ve had in years, the men want to have a party. They also wanted me to ask for your ladies to join if they want,” he said.  

              “Yes of course as long as they behave, anyone giving trouble will have body parts removed,” Y/N said.  Kaz agreed to her stipulations before moving on to the next issue.

              “We have a problem, Rollins has plans to harness a sea witch’s power to try and break the reef again,” he said.  Her eyes widened.  “More access to these islands means more competition for us, less loot to go around.”

              “It would mean that Rollins would get unlimited power too, if the sea witch’s power is strong enough to break the reef it could possibly be strong enough to do much more to the rest of the world,” she said.  Kaz looked at her surprised, having not thought about that.

              “What would give a sea witch that kind of power?” he asked although he was pretty sure he already knew.

              “The heart of a rare tail mermaid,” she answered.  “Well, we have the plans, is there a map?”

              “Yes, to a spot near Argoes.”

              “Horus’s home, they probably don’t know how to summon them, shit, now that Rollins knows I’m alive he’ll probably try to find me.  Fuck, I’m going to have to abandon the Menagerie until this is over, I can’t put those woman at risk over my own stupidity,” she said, throwing the useless kelp across the room.  “He knows I’m alive, he knows I know how to summon a sea witch.  I’m sorry Kaz, me just being here is going to put you in danger…”

              “I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about how we’re getting you to this Horus’s home to summon them,” he said.  She snorted a laugh.

              “You think that I’m just going to waltz in there and somehow get their power? They wear their power in a crystal around their neck, it would take a master thief or magician…”

              “Good think I’m both of those things,” Kaz said.  She looked at him.  

              “When do we tell the crew?” she asked.  

              “After the party, let them have some fun before we start putting their lives in danger again,” he said.   Y/N nodded. “Will you…join me at the party?”

              “Are you asking me on a date Kaz Brekker?” she asked, hoping she didn’t bely how pleasing the idea was.  Kaz smirked and shook his head.

              “No, I just know everyone would like to see you there looking healthy after you almost died on us,” he said.  “Morale booster and all.”   Y/N looked at him and smiled, he was telling her half of the truth.

              “Admit it, you just are too nervous to ask me on a date.”

              “Would you even say yes if I did?”

              “Ask and you’ll find out.”  Kaz opened his mouth to speak but they heard the call for land above them so instead he stood and headed out the door.  Y/N smiled after him and for the first time she felt a pang of something new in her soul, she couldn’t identify it but it was something that only Kaz seemed to bring out in her.  

[spencesglasses]

sweet creature (spencer reid x f! reader) pt 3

a/n: no spence in this part, sorry to disappoint you simps. but uhh, y/n and jj rights! but as besties <3

tw! there are mentions of sexual assault and a minor character death! please be aware before reading!!

part one | part four

“St. Augustine, Florida,” Penelope starts, showcasing the most recent case. “Two bodies were found early this evening in a remote wooded area just west of the city. Neither have been identified yet.”

“This woman’s complexion…” Tara said, looking at the pictures of a woman with various injuries on her face.

Y/N looked at the board beside Penelope. “… she was exsanguinated.” she hissed.

“Correct, my dearest, which is a really fun word to say, but I didn’t know its terrible meaning until I started working here.”

“Odd that the only female had her blood removed,” Rossi said across the round table.

“Well, the male victim might have been collateral damage or a witness that needed to be silenced.” JJ added.

“I mean, it is the kind of message that would be sent to each other. The Curiel Syndicate recently set up shop in Florida,”

“Except it looks like these two were meant without anyone the wiser. How is that a message?” Asked Rossi.

“Well, cartels have also been known to use murder as a form of voodoo.” Derek pointed out. “In 1989, a University of Texas student was murdered by a satanic gang while on spring break.”

Y/N leaned further into the table, reviewing the photos they were given. “My guess is that this has nothing to do with drugs. Maybe someone with a blood fetish-”

“Vampirism?” JJ asked.

Y/N hums in response, glancing at her for a brief moment.

“It’s late and we need to hit the ground running. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said as he closed the file he held, gathering any necessary belongings for the case.

Without another word, the team mirrored his actions and followed him out. This was one of the first few cases she has worked on with the team without Spencer. She didn’t mind it, of course. The team welcomed her with open arms and treated her as if she had always been there, which she appreciated. She had gotten used to everything that came with the job, and grew closer to the team, but she wouldn’t be lying if she said that some things she sees still make her skin crawl.

-

Y/N looked out the window of the jet, admiring the contrast of the dark, star filled sky beneath the white clouds. She was seated with JJ, Hotch, and Morgan at the small table, the rest of the team claiming their spot to the seats to their right.

“The coroner attributed the lacerations on the bodies to animal bites.” Morgan said. “Apparently there are a lot of raccoons in that area.”

Y/N felt JJ nudge her slightly and brought her attention back to the file on her lap, flipping through the photos. “The media’s going on about satanic mutilation.”  

“It’s happened before. The West Memphis three case showed how animal activity on a corpse can be mistaken for a ritualized torture.” Hotch noted.

“After the first bite, the insect infestation expands and distorts the open wounds,” Said Rossi.

Y/N heard Garcia groan over the laptop speaker, seeing her face scrunch up in disgust on the screen. “Ok, here’s my finger, here’s the mute button. Are you guys done talking about the critter damage?”

JJ and Y/N shared a look, and she smiled. “You can put your finger down, Pen, we’re done,”

“Thank you, and Y/N’s right; local news and radio outlets are going wild with this being a blood-worshipping cult murder.” she continues typing. “Hey, new information. Both of those bodies have just been identified, Cheyenne Pravato, 23 and George Henning, 71.”

The team leaned forward to inspect the photos of the recent victims popping up on the screen.

“Any connection?” asked Hotch.

“My level-one search says no, my level 2 through 20 await. Cheyenne was a waitress that is currently unemployed. Henning was a retired steelworker from Pennsylvania, lived in Florida a few years. They both went missing 3 days ago.”

“3 days?” Tara questioned. “Coroner estimated the time of death as less than 24 hours from the time of discovery?”

“Preliminary indicators show no sign of torture or sexual assault,” JJ said.  

Y/N’s eyebrows knit together in thought, trying to piece together the information. “What was he doing with them?”

The team brought their attention to Hotch, and he said, “Dave, you find out what you can about Cheyenne from friends and family. Morgan, you do the same thing for Henning. JJ, I need you to rein in the media. And, Lewis, Y/L, you two go to the M.E.. Hysteria’s growing and we need to contain it.”

-

“Still waiting on the full tox screen for the male victim,” said the medical examiner.

“We think they may have been held for up to two days.” Tara said. “Were they fed?”

“Stomach contents were empty, but nutrition and hydration levels were normal. My guess is they were both fed through an I.V.” he said, lifting the fabric that covered the body. “I did find one curiosity,”

He uncovered the victim's calf, showing a mark on the skin with red rings around it. Y/N furrowed her brows, her eyes scanning the injured spot. “It looks like an animal bite?”

“Not under magnification. It’s actually a surgically precise triangle,”

She saw Tara’s face harden in the corner of her eye; she turned to her and they shared a questioning look. They heard the telephone ring from across the room, and the medical examiner was quick to answer it. Tara lifted the fabric once more, bending down to look closer at the injury.

“You’re positive of that?” Y/N heard him ask over the phone. The medical examiner hung up the phone, turning on his heel to face the two women. “The tox screen and DNA tests on George Henning just came back. You ready for this? Most of the blood in his body isn’t his…”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then whose…”

“It’s Cheyenne’s…”

Her whole body tensed at his words, and Tara’s jaw dropped in shock.

-

Y/N tapped her pencil against the table as she read over the tox screening. “The blood drained from Cheyenne was put into George Henning?” Morgan questioned, gesturing to the document in her hand.

She slid the paper across the table for him to read. “It is strange, a triangle was cut into his calf muscle too,”

“And there’s still something in the toxicology screen that the M.E. can’t identify.” Hotch said.

“Yeah, we’re hoping to find something more in the next few hours,”

Morgan slid back the report to her. She heard footsteps coming closer to the room they occupied and turned to see JJ walking in.  She greeted her with a small wave and smile, to which she returned. JJ leaned against Y/N’s chair, resting her hand on the back of it. “So, it took a little arm-wrestling,” she starts. “But the media finally saw the wisdom in toning down the whole demon worship angle,”

“Don’t take a victory lap just yet,” Rossi said, Y/N handing her the tox report.

“You’re kidding,” JJ huffed.

Tara picked up the photos from the M.E., flipping them over for JJ to see. “Y/L and I are just trying to work out this whole calf muscle business,”

“Triangles are big in illuminati symbolism.” Rossi recounted.

Morgan let out a sharp exhale. “This is just bending back toward cult behavior.”

“What did you find out about George Henning?” Hotch asked him.

“According to the neighbors, the guy was a shut-in. No friends, a lot of health problems — hypertension, parkinson’s,”

“Cheyenne was the opposite,” Rossi interjected. “Vegan, into new age lifestyles. Never met a harmonic convergence she didn't want to converge on.”

“Well, I mean, I get it with him; he was a recluse, but how did nobody notice her missing for 3 days?”

“Her friends said that Cheyenne was flighty. It was not unusual for her to take off without notice for a week or two.”

“Transfusions and sustained I.V. feeding takes skill, planning and access to materials, and as crude as it was, the replacing of old blood with new is dialysis.” Hotch said.  “ What if the triangle isn’t a symbol, but a tissue sample? Could this be medical experimentation?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve got a youthful, healthy host in Cheyenne and a sick test subject in Henning,”

“If the new missing girl’s his next victim, the unsub could be getting ready to try again,” JJ said, clutching the back of Y/N’s chair.

Y/N gave her a look of confusion. “New missing girl?”

“A missing persons report came in earlier today, Andrea Gambrell,” JJ explained. “Her car was found abandoned at a cemetery near Jacksonville. Cheyenne and Andrea waitressed at the same restaurant.”

“If Andrea mirrors Cheyenne, then who mirrors George?” Y/N asked.

“I guess that’s what we have to figure out.”

-

Y/N stood with JJ and Hotch looking over photos they’ve gathered throughout the case, trying to come up with a conclusion. She tapped her foot anxiously against the tile beneath her feet, her brows furrowing as she looked closely at the photos. The sound of Hotch’s phone ringing startled her, making her jump. She let out a deep breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. JJ took notice of a very flustered looking Y/N and placed a hand on her shoulder gently. “You okay there?”

She gave her a half-hearted smile, moving past her to stand next to Hotch. “‘m fine.”

“What do you have, Garcia?” he asked.

He asked her to search for doctors or any medical professionals in the area, anyone that could pop up as a red flag, and of course, Garcia was quick to find just what they needed. “Nothing on my crimson flag doctor search, but I did learn about something with a super cool name,” she said through the speaker. “The mad scientist club,”

JJ took a step, now standing beside Y/N. “And what is that?’ she asked.

“They’re a student group from the Florida College of Medicine in Jacksonville. Before the disbanded, they used to get together and talk about experimental ways to cure disease.”

“Do you have any names of the people in the club?” Y/N questioned.

“Uh, kinda, sorta, not really. They were totally informal. Here’s the part that made me sit up straight. They used to meet at a local cemetery,”

JJ scoffed. “Let me guess, the same cemetery where Andrea Gambrell disappeared.”

“Yeah! The very one!”

“Alright,” Hotch started. “Keep working on the names and see if you can find out what the club disbanded.”

“Okay,” Garcia said before hanging up.

Before the three of them could say another word, Y/N's own phone started ringing. She reached into her back pocket and held the phone up to her ear. “Agent Y/L,”

“Yes, agent, I’ve got the full tox screen of George Henning,” he said, Y/N bringing her phone from her ear so she could put it on speaker. “There were massive levels of massive levodopa in his system.”

“The parkinson's drug?”

“Correct,”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek. “But the blood was replaced with Cheyenne’s. Does that mean the levodopa was introduced into his system after the transfusion?”

“Yes, ma’am. We got the results of the other DNA samples and the surprises keep coming. Found traces of mesoglea and testudinata keratin,”

“That is…” she urges him to continue.

“Jellyfish and turtle. George Henning had animal DNA in his system.” He said.

Y/N scrunched her nose, looking up to see JJ with her mouth slightly agape and Hotch with a deep frown. Y/N quickly says ‘thank you’ before hanging up. But before she could turn her phone off, a quiet ding! went off notifying her about a new message.

“Guys,” she alerted. “Another body was found.”

“You two check that out, see what you can find. I’ll brief the team on the tox screening.”

-

Y/N and JJ walked in silence, their shoulders bumping as they made their way to the site where the latest victim was found.  “Okay so, a homeless man found him,” Y/N breaks the silence, lifting the police tape for her and JJ to go under. The officer close by handed them both gloves to search the area and a bag of belongings found on the victim. “We I.D.’d him as Harold McDermott, longtime local resident.”

“He didn’t even bother hiding the body this time.” JJ said. “The unsub might be unraveling,”

“He must’ve been the new George Henning.” Y/N muttered, crouching down and her eyes scanning the injuries the man ensued. “I don’t even want to think about what might be swimming around in his bloodstream.”

JJ crouched down to her level. “No obvious tissue removal, bruising on his face and chest.” she looked at Y/N, then to the bag in her hand. “What’s in there?”

Y/N eyebrows rose, following JJ’s gaze to the items in the clear bag. She stood up, opened the bag and it was a wallet. With a medical card. Ah, of course we’d find something like this in here, she thought. “It’s a medical I.D. card” she said, pulling it out for JJ to see. “Our victim suffered from epilepsy and cortico-basal degeneration…”

They tore their eyes away from the card, glancing up to each other. “We better deliver the profile.”

-

It’s been a few hours since they’ve delivered the profile to local authorities, and since then, they’ve gotten more information to help them solve the case. The M.E. had found more animal DNA in George Hennings body: sea urchin and some other type of tropical parrot neither of them could identify.

Penelope was able to locate one of the former members of the Mad Scientist Club, Diane Haller, and she was able to go in to talk to Tara; finding out that there was a man that could be a potential lead. Robert, or Richard, Diane couldn’t remember his name, but the club called him the magic man. He only went to the gathering a few times, according to Diane, and while he was there he would go on about how they were in a ‘magical place’. He attended the Florida College of Medicine in Jacksonville while the club was still active, his interest being in neuroscience.

A local doctor went missing, Laura Braga. She was a neurologist, which they believed was a connection to the unsub. Dr. Braga was heading back to her office to get files she’d forgotten when she discovered that the unsub broke into her office trying to get extra levodopa.  

“Garcia compiled a list of every medical student in the North Florida area with the first name of Richard or Robert, and I got to tell you guys, it’s a long list.” Tara said as she stood to the side of a board filled with photo evidence and a map of the area.

“So which one is our magic man?” JJ asked.

Y/N sat in the chair next to her, facing the board. She spun her chair around to face the other way and noticed a peculiar look on Rossi’s face. “What is it, Rossi?”

“They identified the bird DNA in Henning as coming from a scarlet macaw,”

“Mmhm. And?”

“That got me thinking about Turritopsis Dohrni,”

“Turri… what?’ Tara questioned him.

“It’s called the immortal jellyfish,” he explains. “Endlessly recycles its own cells through a process called transdifferentiation, a kind of lineage reprogramming.”

“Oh, my goodness. Dr. Spencer Reid, master of disguise.” JJ joked.

Y/N quirked an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth rising slightly. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed that you were the resident genius, Rossi,”

He let out a soft chuckle. “No disguise. I called the kid last night.”

“Ahh,” Y/N and JJ said in unison.

“But think about it, jellyfish, turtle, sea urchin, and now a scarlet macaw. What do they all have in common?”

“A long lifespan.” Tara answered.

“Exactly, longer than a human’s.”

“So that means the unsub may not be focused on a specific disease but longevity,” Said JJ.

“Oh, God. Guys,” Tara gasped. “I think I know why the magic man thought this place was so magical,” She uses the file in her hand to point at the map. “We are right around the corner from the legendary Fountain of Youth.”

-

A local zoo reported a macaw stolen, the owner suspecting it to be a former employee, Robert Boles, who they’d believed to be the unsub. He went to medical school and flunked out in the middle of his first year. They found key information linking him to the case when Penelope found that he currently worked at the same hospital as Dr. Braga. The team rushed to the location where Boles did his experiments on his victims.

“All right, so, in high school Robert Boles got a summer job at a gift shop near the Fountain of Youth archaeological park.” JJ explained. “He got fired for breaking in after hours.”

Y/N and JJ sat in the back seat of the car, leaving Morgan and Hotch in the front. “That’s probably where his obsession with eternal youth started.”

-

They trudged through the hallways of the abandoned building with their guns pointed forward, ready to shoot if needed. “And I won’t let you get in the way!” they heard a man shout from one of the rooms.

The team followed the sound of the voice and turns the corner to see two men standing over a young woman. The younger man they’d identified as Robert Boles, and the young woman being Andrea Gambrell, Y/N assumed.

“Robert Boles, drop the weapon.” Hotch said sternly.

He whipped his head around to them.

“It’s over, man. You’re not getting out.” Morgan steps closer to him.

“Put the knife down, slowly.” JJ said.

Y/N watches as Boles lifts his arms in surrender, opening his hand to drop the knife. Morgan hurried to cuff him, while JJ rushed to untie Andrea strapped to the hospital bed.

“My wife needs help!” The other man, Ben Kebler, tells Hotch urgently.

“Where is she?”

“In the next room!” Mr. Kebler rushed out.

“Show me.” Hotch said, following him, and Y/N followed along. “Call an ambulance,” he tells her.

-

“Medics are on their way,” Y/N said softly, entering the room Hotch and JJ were in and she stood between them.

She looked down to see Eileen Kebler in the hospital bed, her husband leaning over her her. And her heart breaks. Eileen was dying.

“How is she?” Ben Kebler asked, eyes brimming with tears.

The three of them stayed silent, Y/N unable to comprehend what's happening, let alone come up with words to say in that moment. Hotch peers down at him, and Ben knows. He frantically shakes his head, hand shaking as he grabs his wife's hand. “What have I done?!”

“I’m cold,” Eileen mutters.

His face scrunched up. “Eileen, stay with me!” he pleads.

“I am always with you…” she whispers. “Always…”

And she was gone. Sobs echoed throughout the empty building, and Y/N could feel her heart bursting out of her chest. Her eyes watered with tears, then suddenly she felt a hand interlock with hers. It was JJ’s. She squeezes her hand gently, JJ rubbing soothing circles along her knuckles. She let out a soft exhale and used her free hand to wipe away any tears, trying to regain her composure. This part of the job was something she could never get used to. Something the rest of the team couldn’t get used to, no matter how long they’ve worked there.

-

It was safe to say that Y/N was not a night owl. The team were on their way home and she laid on the couch in the jet with a small pillow and blanket that could barely cover her. She smiled to herself as the memory of her finding Spencer snuggled with a far too small blanket the morning after their first movie night. She still cringes at the fact that she accidentally fell asleep barely into the first few movies, but smiles when she remembers what she woke up to. Y/N thought it was sweet that he stayed there with her, and finding Spencer curled up in a messy bundle of blankets made her heart grow twice its size. She took a mental note to call Spencer when they land, and she finally lets her eyes flutter shut, finally being able to rest.

-

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