#Ten is so arrogant and thinks he's better than everyone which comes off rough when he's mostly surrounded by women lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vampiregirl1797 · 4 years ago

Text

Love Blossoms

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

GIF Not Mine.

Click Here To Find My Masterlist.

Warnings: mentions of murderers, panic attack, some light smut near the end, otherwise FLUFF and Aaron allowing himself to be less serious and more happy around Y/N.

Word Count: 15,065– It’s a big ole one.

Summary: A collection of moments between Aaron and Y/N, documenting the journey they took to come together.

When I had started working at the BAU, it had been just after Agent Greenway transferred to another unit. I had no idea why she’d made the decision, but I sensed it was better not to ask, due to the tense behaviour that appeared the few times her name had come up in conversation. It took a while for the team to warm up to me, but even then they were still polite and professional. But for a good six weeks, I felt a little... left out, which sounded almost juvenile, but it was the truth. It didn’t take an expert in behaviour to notice that the BAU team were like a family, and after just losing a member made it easy to understand their hesitance in letting me into the fold.

I don’t know what made the decision for them, but it seemed that my relationship with each and every one of them went from polite and professional to open, honest and familial overnight. But I wasn’t going to complain, they were the most wonderful people I’d ever met and I was grateful for being accepted into their little family. There was only one problem, and that was Aaron Hotchner. The man was incredibly stern-faced, hardly ever smiled and he led the team like a drill Sargent. He had the most expressive eyes I’d ever seen, when he was actually willing to let his guard down for people to read them, he cared deeply, deeper than anyone would ever think, and I swear to god he knew about the crush I’d had on him since the moment I’d been introduced by Strauss on my first day at the BAU. That had been almost a year ago now, and my feelings had flourished, the flowers blossoming, the roots digging deep inside me to a point that extraction would cause me immense physical pain. I was in love with my boss, and I was certain he knew. How could he not? He was the unit chief of a team of profilers for goodness sake. And after we’d all witnessed JJ unsuccessfully hide her relationship with Will from us, well let’s just say I wouldn't be surprised if the whole team knew too. But I tried not to give it too much thought, after all Hotch was married and he was my boss. It wasn’t like I could do anything about it if I wanted to.

I needed to get over it, that much was clear. Which was why I was open to accepting Garcia’s offer to set me up on a blind date with one of her gamer friends. It could be good, couldn’t it?

‘Garcia, I swear I’m never letting you set me up on a date again!’ I complained, waving my hands around in my frustration, but somehow managing not to spill a drop of the coffee in my right hand.

‘Come on, Y/N! Randell is a catch!’ Garcia argued, linking her arm through my left in an attempt to calm my erratic movements.

‘A catch? Honey, there’s a reason they say you should never trust people you meet on the internet!’ I quirked my brow, lightly elbowing her when I noticed the smile she was trying to hold back as we stepped into he conference room, ‘you knew he was a creep!’

‘No I didn’t, I swear. Seriously though, what happened?’ She asked as we took our seats at the round table— we were the first to arrive for the briefing.

‘He was only capable of talking about sex, which was ironic because he kept flinching and crossing his legs every time I so much as reached for my wine.’ I rolled my eyes, sighing, ‘not to be overly negative but that guy wouldn’t have lasted thirty seconds if I’d taken him up on his offer.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She winced, her expression softening with sympathy.

‘Oh, I’m only getting started, he kept degrading me.’ I took a sip of my coffee to get my anger under control, ‘saying things like: “I’ll bet a girl like you likes it real hard and rough, huh? I’ll bet you’re a dirty little slut.” And then he proceeded to ask me to call him “Daddy” so I threw his wine in his face and left.’

‘His wine?’ Pen frowned, and I didn’t notice the way she glanced over my shoulder and took a sip of her own hot beverage to hide her smile.

‘I’d already drunk mine.’ I shrugged, my smile becoming a full grin when Penny started to laugh.

‘Well I’m sorry that he was a jerk, Y/N.’ Garcia said, her voice sincere once she’d recovered from the humour of my story, ‘he may or may not find a hardware wiping virus on his computer at some point today as a punishment.’

That startled a laugh out of me, and she chuckled with me too, my hand squeezing hers briefly in gratitude before releasing her.

‘Don’t worry about it, it’s my own fault really.’ I bit my lip, knowing that she could have put the perfect guy in front of me last night and I still would have found him to be lacking in some way. Because he wouldn’t have been him. I shook that errant thought away before it could show on my face.

‘We’ll find someone for you, Y/N.’ She patted my arm and lowered her voice as the rest of the team joined us, ‘or at the very least someone for you to blow off some steam with.’ She winked.

Her sudden suggestiveness took me off guard, so much so that if it hadn’t been for me raising my cup back to my mouth in time, there would have been coffee all over the round table, and a few agents sitting around it. I gave her a look that was a mixture of annoyance and mirth, but she only winked again as I wiped my mouth free of the excess beverage that had spilled onto my chin.

‘Are you gonna share what you’re talking about over there, Baby girl?’ Derek asked, a smirk painted on his lips as his eyes flittered in between the both of us.

Garcia and I shared a look that was full of mischief and mayhem— the usual concoction that resulted in us being together. Pen leaned forward and opened her mouth to say something that was going to be incredibly suggestive and most likely inappropriate, but as if he sensed a verbal war he wouldn’t be able to stop unless he got ahead of it, Hotch bought the conversation to a stop.

‘We’re going to Louisiana. They need our help with an unsub who’s mutilating women aged 25-30.’ He started, his authoritative tone garnering the teams attention immediately— I personally felt incapable of not paying attention when he spoke, he was so... captivating.

I felt myself subconsciously crossing my legs together, a vain attempt to quell the ache that started to form whenever I lost myself in his dominant personality. I pulled my eyes from him with great effort, and focused on the file in front of me, but it was for nought as my mind ran wild. Generally alpha personalities guaranteed a handful of the same qualities: arrogance, narcissism, dominance to a point of control and over confidence. I’d met, and even dated, more than my fair share of men with those same characteristics. But Aaron was different, and up until I’d met him I had no idea there was another kind of alpha male. He wasn’t arrogant, he was most certainly intelligent and confident within himself, but not to the point of parading his greatness in front of anyone and everyone in an attempt to boost his ego. He was quietly confident, but still willing to listen to others, still willing to accept blame if he ever did something wrong. He was about as far from a narcissist as you could get— getting him to talk about himself for more than a few sentences was taxing, he was much more comfortable and happy with the topic of conversation being on anyone but him. And as for being dominant... he most certainly gave of an aura of authority that you couldn’t help but notice or pay attention to, but rather than be flippantly commanding like the other alpha males I’d known, he always took other’s feelings into account. In other words— he’d never make you go through with something he could tell you wouldn't be comfortable with. Without meaning to, I couldn’t help but think Aaron Hotchner would most definitely be dominant in the bedroom— but I had a feeling it would be tailored to whoever he was with. He was a caring dominant personality, I was sure of it, he was the type of alpha personality to get off on getting his bed partner off, to care about fulfilling her fantasies and desires. The type to care about keeping his partner safe, to care for them physically, mentally and emotionally.

Hayley was a lucky woman.

I shook myself out of my thoughts with a sigh, actually taking in the details of the case in front of me and hearing Reid reel off the square footage of Louisiana.

‘Seeing as we already have three victims I’ll get started in a geographical profile when we arrive.’ Spencer finished, offering Hotch a small smile as he offered an approving nod.

‘Very good. Wheels up in ten, if this unsub follows the same pattern, he’s about to kidnap his next victim. Time is of the essence.’ Hotch said, I didn’t notice him frown when I didn’t catch his eye before leaving the room like I usually did— I just couldn’t bring myself to look at him just yet given how my thoughts had wondered off.

I needed to get my reactions around him under control, because this was getting ridiculous.

‘He has to be finding the girls at this club, following them home, and kidnapping them before they get their keys in the door.’ Morgan said, running a hand over his head as an exhausted sigh escaped him.

I leaned next to him on the table, my arm knocking against his as a silent offer of comfort, he nudged me back and smiled with gratitude.

‘I think our best bet is sending someone undercover.’ One of the cops at the Louisiana station proposed, and not for the first time.

At first he’d been dismissed because when we’d arrived, there had already been another woman reported missing, and we knew he kept them for a minimum of three days before disposing of them. So it would have been pointless to send someone out to seduce him when he already had someone to keep him busy. Her body had been found this morning and the friend who’d been with her had confirmed they’d been at the same club as the others the night she’d gone missing. We had no idea who he was, or how to find him, but we knew where he was going to be, now we had to lay the bait, but who was it going to be?

‘It’s not a bad idea.’ Prentiss said, looking over to Hotch, knowing that nothing would go ahead without his approval.

‘We’d need a woman who fits his type.’ Spencer pointed out, looking over to me.

‘Why are you looking at me, Doc?’ I raised a brow, frowning when I noticed everyone’s eyes on me, all except one pair.

‘Y/N, would you be comfortable with going undercover?’ He asked, his brown eyes meeting mine directly for the first time that day.

I felt my heart beat pick up in my chest as I answered, ‘of course.’

His eyes remained on mine for a few more moments, holding me captive while he studied my expression to determine if I meant what I’d said, or if I was simply agreeing because I felt I had to. What felt like hours later, he looked away, and I felt like I could breathe again as I lifted my coffee cup to my lips to hide my shallow breaths as I worked to return my heart rate to normal.

‘JJ and I will go with her, all the other victims were in groups, it would be suspicious if she was on her own.’ Prentiss murmured, her words somehow still sounding like a question even though she hadn’t worded it as one.

‘Fine.’ Hotch nodded, sweeping out of the room and leaving the team to prepare for what was most definitely going to be a long night.

‘I look ridiculous.’ I complained, not for the first time but I couldn't help it— I had never wore such revealing clothes and I felt exposed and stupid.

‘No, you look like a knock out, trust us we know what we’re doing.’ JJ said, her voice gentle and patient— I assumed she could see the discomfort in my eyes.

‘Don’t forget, we need to attract the unsub’s attention, and all of his victims so far have been party girls so we need to appeal to his type.’ Prentiss reminded me and I sighed, closed my eyes and resigned myself to my fate.

This isn’t about me. This is about stopping a psychopath and preventing anymore women dying.

‘Okay, thank you both.’ I offered them a shaky smile as I stood, trying to walk in the heels they’d dressed me in. It took a few minutes of pacing, but I got it.

Before I knew it, we were heading to the club the victims were last seen in, JJ and Prentiss linking both of my arms, and a deceivingly bright smile plastered on my lips. This was going to be hell. But I sucked it up and headed over to the bar, signalling for three drinks that were most likely going to be nursed for as long as possible. I was waiting for my drinks to be prepared when I felt a presence behind me. I attempted to ignore it until I felt a hand on my waist, the feeling sending a shiver of dread up my spine. I looked up into the darkest eyes I’d ever seen, and I didn’t just mean in colour, though they were a dark brown, but there was no emotion behind his iris’. They were completely void of any emotion aside from a sadistic shimmer that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This was the unsub, I was sure of it.

‘What might your name be?’ He asked, his hand moving back and forth on my waist.

I knew from the profile that this man’s ego led him to kill when he was rejected by the women he sought out, so I took great pleasure in twisting his arm behind his back.

‘My name is none of your business.’ I sneered, gathering up the drinks and carrying them over to the table the three of us commandeered in the corner.

‘We saw you had company.’ Emily commented, her tone light but her eyes held a seriousness to it that hinted at what she was really asking.

‘That’s him. I’m sure of it.’ I said, relaying what had happened to them, and the rest of the team on the comms.

‘Give it thirty minutes, then leave. Remember, you’re leaving separately. Y/N first and we’ll see if he follows you.’ Hotch murmured, his voice a quiet, seductive tone in my ear.

I took a deep breath and pushed away the cocktail in front of me— anymore alcohol and I would end up revealing more than I wanted. I knew from experience that I was a chatty drunk, and incapable of keeping any secrets to myself.

‘Got it.’ JJ answered for all of us and we lapsed into casual conversation for the next half hour.

Despite my intentions not to, half of my drink was gone before I’d even realised I was drinking it, but by that point I couldn’t remember why alcohol wasn’t a great idea.

‘So what happened with that asshole Garcia set you up with anyway?’ Emily asked, sipping her own cocktail.

I snorted, ‘he was awful, honestly. Wouldn’t talk about anything but sex, but every time I reached for my drink he flinched and kept shifting in his seat.’

‘No stamina there then.’ JJ snorted and Em and I nodded in agreement.

‘Honestly I’m just so sick of it.’ I rolled my eyes, swirling my drink around with my straw, ‘I can’t remember the last time I had satisfying sex.’

JJ snorted into her drink and Emily loudly agreed with me.

‘Tell me about it! The ones who are loud and proud about being able to get a woman off have—.’ Em started but I cut her off, happy someone knew what I meant.

‘NO IDEA WHAT THEY’RE DOING!’ I held my hand out for a high five, and sober I would have never considered high-fiving over something like this, but drunk me thought it was a great idea and apparently Emily agreed as she slapped her palm against mine eagerly.

‘Well, lucky for me I got one of the good ones.’ JJ smirked, flashing her wedding rings.

‘Lucky bitch,’ I gave her a mock glare that had her winking at me.

‘Seriously, you don’t know how lucky you are. Good guys are so unique and rare.’ Emily sighed, ‘I went on a date last month with a guy who spent the whole night talking to my breasts and when he was clawing at me when he dropped me back off at my place, I ended up kneeing him in the crotch.’

‘Men our age suck.’ I squeezed her hand in agreement, ‘most of them only care about getting themselves off, some to the point of aggression if you try and push them off when you’re not enjoying it.’

‘Amen.’ Emily cheered.

‘Do they know we can still hear them?’ Spence’s voice over the comms had us all breaking into laughter.

‘Sorry Spence.’ JJ apologised, wiping the moisture from her eyes.

‘No don’t apologise!’ I shook my head, holding up my hand to stop them from commenting, ‘he’s right, it’s sexist to exclude him from the conversation, do you have anything to add, Doc?’

I could practically hear him blushing from inside the club as he floundered for a moment, and someone— probably Derek— chuckled.

‘I know that in 2015, only 6 percent of women said that they always had an orgasm during penile-vaginal intercourse, 40 percent said they had an orgasm nearly always, 16 percent of women had an orgasm half the time, and 38 percent had one infrequently.’ Spencer reeled off, always eager to share information he’d absorbed.

‘Thank you, Spencer for proving my point.’ I smiled, finishing my drink, ‘you’re herby invited to the next girls night.’

Emily and JJ cheered, our glasses clinking together as they finished their drinks too, signalling for two more.

‘Thanks,’ Reid mumbled, actually sounding quite touched at the invitation.

I cleared my throat and stood, careful to keep the nerves now bubbling in my gut off my expression.

‘Well ladies, this has been fun, but I have to go.’ I pretended to pout, winking when they groaned in disappointment, ‘sorry, I have an early day tomorrow. Goodnight, I love you both.’

I hugged them before I departed, and both murmured a “be careful” into my ear before I left them. As I walked out of the club and headed for my car, I couldn't help but put my phone to my ear to talk to the others— the further away I got, the quieter I became and the more nervous I was.

‘Hey, this is unexpected, it’s so nice to hear from you!’ I greeted brightly, being careful to keep my eyes trained forward—if he thought I was on to him I might scare him off.

‘You’re doing great, sweetness.’ Derek murmured, his voice calm and comforting, though it didn’t dissipate my nerves completely.

‘That’s amazing, congratulations. I’ll bet your fiancée is so proud of you!’ I gushed, unlocking the rental car they’d commandeered for me and sliding inside, tossing my phone into my purse and placing it onto the passenger seat and putting on my seatbelt.

‘Just a little further, Y/N.’ Hotch’s voice soothed my anxiety like a balm and I felt my white knuckle grip ease a little from the steering wheel as I settled into the drivers set, suddenly more at ease.

‘Thank you.’ I murmured, hoping he didn’t hear how breathy my voice sounded as I headed for the address that had been pre-programmed into the GPS.

I drove in comfortable silence, knowing the team was on the comms offering me a sense of security. I was about five minutes from arriving when a cop car lit up behind me, wanting me to pull over.

‘Uhhh... did we clear the Louisiana police?’ I asked, not pulling over just yet.

‘Why?’ Hotch asked, his voice urgent.

‘Because someone is trying to pull me over now. What if that’s how he got them? Coming to the club in his cruiser and following them to pull them over when they were on their way home?’ I suggested, trying not to panic as my heart suddenly felt like it was beating in my throat. It made sense, and I might have recognised him had I been paying more attention to the cops around the station. It made me wonder if he knew me, but then again I’d barely been at the precinct the past few days, Hotch had me on activities that led to me being outside the station.

‘Y/N, listen to me do not pull over. Garcia just checked with Louisiana police department and there aren’t supposed to be any cars in patrol in that area.’ Hotch ordered, and I wondered if I imagined the tremor of concern in his voice as I sped up a little.

‘If I don’t pull over then we won’t have anything on him, remember? We have no way to tie him to the women he killed, and if he’s a cop that makes sense. If he doesn’t take me, he’ll try to take someone else, someone who doesn’t have an FBI team and SWAT to back her up.’ I argued, but I didn’t like it anymore than he did.

He didn’t respond for a long time and my heart beat became so loud that it was ringing in my ears. I almost didn’t hear Hotch when he responded.

‘Give it one minute and then pull over, I’m redirecting SWAT to your location and we’ll be there as fast as we can. Keep him talking, Y/N and don’t hang up the phone.’ He murmured, his voice dripping with so much authority that it made the hairs on my arms stand up.

‘Yes sir.’ I answered, watching the clock on my dashboard and pulling over exactly one minute later.

I put a bright smile on my face as the same man from the bar came up to my window, signalling for me to wind it down. I lowered it an inch. His smile was dark and I had to physically hold myself back from flinching.

‘Hello there darlin,’ he greeted, his attempt to be charming having the opposite effect, ‘I didn’t just see you come out of that club back there, did I?’

I pursed my lips, deliberating on whether to lie or not, I knew he’d find a way to get me out of the car either way, but I needed to buy myself some time.

‘You did, officer.’ I admitted, biting my lip in what I hoped was an enticing way, ‘but I only drank water.’

‘You wouldn’t mind proving that, would you?’ His hands rested on his hips as he pushed his chest out, attempting to emphasise his brawny shoulders, but he just looked like he was pecking like a chicken.

‘Prove it how?’ I attempted ignorance.

‘Take a breathalyser test for me, if you’re under the limit, I’ll send you on your way.’ He winked, his eyes glinting dangerously at the prospect of what he could do to me as soon as I stepped out of the car.

‘How long would that take, exactly?’ I asked, but I wasn’t talking to him.

‘We’re two minutes out, Y/N.’ Derek promised.

‘No more than five minutes.’ The man promised and with a sigh, I climbed out of the safety of my car, slamming the door shut loud enough to be heard over the comms.

‘Okay then.’ My words ended in a scream, because even though I was hyper aware of every move he made, the fucker was fast and had stabbed a needle into my arm before I could so much as attempt to defend myself.

‘What did you just—what did you—what’s happening?’ I groaned, my voice consumed with panic as I started to lose feeling in my limps. He caught me under the arms when I fell forward and laid me on the back of his cop car.

‘You and me are going to have so much fun, not that you deserve it, you uptight bitch.’ He snarled, his hand wrapping around my throat and squeezing just enough to make me aware how easy it would be for him to kill me then and there.

‘No,’ My eyes were wet with tears as I felt his hand roaming across my chest, ‘stop.’

He grinned, his eyes reflecting how much pleasure he was taking from this, and he watched my expression as his hand started drifting lower and lower...

I gasped in relief when he was roughly pulled off me. I couldn’t lift my head, but I heard the thump as he was pinned to the car and cuffed, most likely by Derek.

‘I can’t m-move.’ I said, worried that my voice would be to low to hear as even talking was taxing and took maximum effort.

‘Y/N,’ Hotch’s voice wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I noted the relief in his voice as his hands wrapped around my waist and lifted me into sitting position.

‘I can’t move.’ I murmured, as if he didn't know that already, my forehead rested against his shoulder as my body slumped forward.

‘I know. You’re going to be okay, there’s an ambulance on the way,’ he reassured me, and I must have been on some heavy drugs because I could have sworn I felt him stroking my hair.

‘Will you stay with me?’ I said, fear returning to my voice at the prospect of being in a cold, sterile hospital without a familiar, comforting face.

‘Of course I will.’ His warm breath against my ear would have made me shiver, had I been able to.

It was crazy how easily I slipped into unconsciousness with Aaron’s arms around me, holding me up and murmuring reassurances into my ear. His hand continually stroked over my hair, and I wondered if I fell asleep because of the drugs, or because Hotch had soothed me so well that I was powerless to stop it.

Months passed after the case in Louisiana, and nothing much changed, aside from Hotch announcing to the team that he and Hayley were getting a divorce. And I couldn’t muster up anything other than sadness for him, despite my nowhere near platonic feelings for him, I knew how much he loved her, how much it must have been killing him to be separated from her. So I tried to help in anyway I could, I took half his case files so he could go home sooner after cases and be able to spend a little time with his son before he was put to bed. I bought home cooked meals for him to take home, knowing he was less likely to take care of himself if he didn’t have a wife and son to cook for. And the whole team made an effort to get him to come out with us at least once a month. Usually I avoided the drinks on those particular outings, not knowing what my liquor fuelled brain might make me say to him, but tonight was one of the rare nights he said no, having promised Jack he would swing by and listen to his stories about his trip to the zoo.

No one had been able to argue with that, and after we all went home to change— well JJ, Emily and I got ready at Penny’s place— we met up at our usual bar and started ordering the drinks. The conversation flowed with ease, and as the alcohol intake increased, the topics became more... private... between the girls anyway. Reid, Morgan and Rossi were having a separate conversation of their own about past cases by the sounds of it.

‘What’s your number?’ Pen asked.

‘My number? You have it in your phone!’ I frowned, genuinely confused over what she was asking.

‘Not your phone number, the number of people you’ve had sex with!’ Emily shoved my shoulder playfully, the other girls giggling when I flushed in embarrassment at the miscommunication.

‘Three.’ I held my fingers up for JJ, who was furthest away from me and possibly unable to hear due to the loud music.

‘26’ Emily said, winking and throwing back a shot of whiskey.

‘14’ JJ chirped.

‘11.’ Garcia admitted last.

‘Wow, I’m such a prude.’ I mumbled, taking my shot and throwing it back.

‘Nah, you’re young! At 25 my number was around the same as yours!’ Garcia assured me, downing her shot with a grimace.

‘I’ll get the next round!’ I announced, standing from the table and trying not to fall on my face as I walked in the heels JJ insisted I wear.

They were strappy platform heels and apparently they went perfectly with the flowing black skater dress I was wearing. It was a lacy material and I loved it because it was dressy but also comfortable. I reached the bar and ordered another round of the usual for our table, asking for it to be put on our tab. The bartender assured me he’d have my order ready in a few minutes and I’d just slid in a stool to wait when I felt someone groping my ass.

I turned around so fast I almost gave myself whip lash, ‘hey, asshole what exactly do you think you’re doing?’ The first thing I noticed about him was the cockiness that seemed to seep from his every pore. His hair was a bleach blonde, his eyes a cold blue and his arrogant smile made my hand twitch.

‘Nothing sweetheart, pure accident I swear.’ He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. I assumed he was trying to draw attention to his obviously athletic frame, but honestly I didn't think there was anything he could do to make himself attractive to me.

‘Hmm, see it doesn’t happen again.’ I warned, glaring at him, but his smile didn't waver, of course it didn't. This was the kind of man who saw women as property, as a plaything for him to do what he wanted with, whether they enjoyed it or not. To him, I was inferior because of my gender, and honestly there were few other things that boiled my blood like sexism.

He stepped closer, so close that I could smell the excessive amount of cologne he was wearing, it made my nose scrunch up in distaste that he refused to see, because as far as he was concerned he was god’s gift to women.

‘Back off.’ I said, preparing to defend myself if he laid a finger on me.

He laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. He opened his mouth to say something but it snapped shut again when he spied something over my shoulder. I studied his expression for a moment, and when I saw the genuine fear in his eyes I determined he wasn’t faking just to deter my attention. I was just about to turn to see for myself what was scaring him, I idly wondered if Rossi or Derek had seen the commotion and come to offer assistance, but before I could I was overwhelmed with a familiar scent. It was the woodsy cologne that I’d gifted him for Christmas, having found it and insisting that it smelled of Hotch. It smelled comforting, safe and strong. That was the scent that surrounded me, and I felt my eyes flutter shut for a second, overcome with the calm that came over me. When he wrapped an arm around my waist, I was sure my knees would have buckled if I hadn’t been close enough to grab onto the bar for support. I vaguely registered his deep, authoritative voice saying something to the arrogant blonde in front of us, but all I could think about was how warm he was and how good the heat felt seeping through my dress and onto my skin. So good.

‘Y/N?’ His voice bought me back, his tone soft with concern and a little humour.

‘Sorry, I was out of it for a moment there.’ I shook my head, knowing I should step out of his hold, but I couldn’t bring myself to.

‘Are you alright?’ He asked, his free hand twitched and I wondered if that was because he wanted to touch me with that one too.

‘I’m fine.’ My chin jutting in the direction the boy had been standing, ‘but for future reference, that is an example of the assholes men my age can be.’ I mused, signalling for one more beer for the new addition to the party.

‘Hopefully he’ll grow out of it.’ He said, his tone was dry and I found myself laughing with him as we headed back to the table.

‘What took you so long, sweetness? I’m dying of thirst here!’ Derek complained, chuckling when I rolled my eyes at his antics.

I placed the tray in the middle of the table and everyone helped themselves. I tried not to show how pleased I was that Aaron ended up sat next to me, his arm over the back of the booth and close enough to my shoulders that I could feel the heat radiating from him. As everyone drifted to their own conversations, I found myself falling back to talk to Hotch, his dark eyes focused on me and only me. That was the thing about him; he had this way about him, of making you feel like the only one in the room when he looked at you. I didn't know if he had this effect on everyone, or if it was just me, but either way it was overwhelming.

‘How was Jack’s trip to the zoo?’ I asked, shifting a little to face him better, and trying not to visibly show how my heartbeat quickened as my legs became pressed up against his.

‘He loved it and he’s already begging for his birthday party to be there.’ He chuckled, his brown eyes sparkling with the fondness he held for his son.

‘His birthday isn’t until October though, I’m sure he’ll change his mind a million times before then.’ I reminded him, smiling because I knew how wonderfully indecisive Jack could be, as all kids his age were.

Hotch stared at me for a moment, and for all my BAU skills as a profiler, I couldn’t identify the soft emotion swirling around in his eyes. Before either of us could attempt to continue the conversation, Rossi commandeered Aaron’s attention for help in recalling details of a particular case. I leant back and just observed everyone, happy to be silent for a moment and enjoy the atmosphere and multiple conversations around me without actually participating. And if I was secretly happy that Hotch’s arm stated behind me on the back of the booth, well no one needed to know.

As the night wore on, people started to leave. First Reid, then JJ and Prentiss, then Derek and Penny, until it was Rossi, Hotch and me. But when the exhaustion started to seep in despite my buzz, I decided it were best if I went home too.

‘I’m calling it guys.’ I announced, standing and stretching out my tired limbs before I grabbed my purse and jacket.

‘How are you getting home?’ Hotch asked, standing with me.

‘I’m gonna call an Uber.’ I said, reaching into my bag for my phone, but his hand on my wrist stopped me.

‘Let me drive you, I’m heading out now anyway and it’s on my way home.’ He murmured, his eyes boring into mine. I could see that he really wanted me to accept his offer, but I knew if I said no he’d drop it and let me go.

‘Okay, if you don’t mind.’ I smiled, much preferring to get a ride home with someone I knew and trusted rather than have to wait in the cold for a stranger to pick me up.

‘Do you need a ride, Dave?’ Hotch asked as he slid on his own jacket.

I missed Rossi’s knowing smile as he answered, ‘nah, I’ve been on water for the most of the night, I’m fine to drive.’

‘Okay, see you in a few days!’ I kissed his cheek and walked with Aaron out of the bar, wondering if I was imagining the warmth from his hand seeping through my dress into my lower back.

He led me to his car, opened the passenger door for me and gently closed it before moving to the drivers side. I felt a smile form on my lips at the chivalrous act— I didn’t know people still did that anymore— and I was surprised at the butterflies that formed in my stomach from his actions. He turned the heat up as he drove, noticing the subtle way I was rubbing my upper arms in order to generate some warmth. I found myself falling asleep, which was surprising seeing as I had trouble falling asleep when I knew someone could see me. Call me crazy, but it was the truth. I didn’t realise just how close I was to being completely immersed into unconsciousness until we arrived at my apartment and Hotch murmured my name, softly, sweetly.

‘Hmm?’ I jolted awake, my cheek feeling like ice from where it had been resting against the window.

‘We’re here.’ He smiled, and if I’d been more awake, more focused, I would have noticed the fondness behind it.

‘Thank you.’ I blinked, trying to wake myself up a little more, ‘love you.’ I said, stepping out of the car and into my apartment building, which was coincidentally the same building as Emily’s. I was on the eighth floor and she was on the third.

It wasn’t until I was tucked up in bed, on the brink of falling asleep again that I realised what I’d said. To Hotch. To my boss. To the man I was secretly in love with. Suddenly completely awake, I sat up, my eyes wide with mortification.

It’s fine, you tell the team you love them all the time, he wouldn’t have interpreted it any other way. He wouldn’t. I took a deep calming breath and lay back down again.

It would be fine. Right?

When we returned to work, I came in a little earlier, determined to catch Hotch alone and offer him the cookies I’d made for him and Jack as a thank you for the ride home he’d given me. I also wanted to clear the air, test for any awkwardness that might be lingering from my surprising declaration. I was still clinging onto the hope that he hadn’t seen it as anything more than me confessing platonic love.

I placed my coat and bag onto my desk and continued on to Hotch’s office, expecting him to be here already. But I was surprised to find it empty. I frowned when I noticed his coat and briefcase weren’t here yet, meaning he wasn’t somewhere else in the building. With a disappointed sigh I placed the box of cookies on his desk and took a post it note and pen from one of his drawers and scribbled a note before sticking it onto the box.

Hotch,

A thank you for taking me home the other night, I really appreciate it.

I made chocolate chip and walnut for you.

The chocolate chip ones I decorated in a spider man theme are for Jack, and you if he wants to share.

Thanks again,

Y/N.

I walked to the small kitchenette and poured myself a cup of coffee before heading to my desk. Seeing as no one would be in for another hour and a half— at the earliest— I decided to get started on some paperwork. I was surprised at how quickly I got through it, being as a stack so large would have taken me all night any other day. I guessed doing it first thing allowed for maximum concentration, and I was just moving the final file over to the done pile when the first agent arrived.

‘Spence!’ I cheered, my smile melting into a sheepish expression when he jumped, ‘sorry! I’m just so happy to see another person, I’ve been here since 7 and the empty room was really starting to freak me out.’

He chuckled, placing his satchel and jacket on his desk before coming over to mine and accepting the hug I offered him. I loved hugging Spence; he was almost a foot taller than me, so when his arms wrapped around me he made me feel tiny and safe. He was like the twin I’d always wanted— we were similar in age, we liked the same movies and we were both a little socially awkward and trying to figure out who we were.

‘Why did you come in so early?’ He asked after we’d pulled apart, the both of us heading to the coffee machine, his arm around my shoulders.

‘I made cookies for Hotch and Jack and wanted to drop them off before the team could see and complain I hadn’t made them any.’ I told him, which wasn’t exactly a lie.

‘Smart.’ The genius snorted, pouring some coffee into my mug and then his own.

‘What did you get up to yesterday?’ I wondered as we headed back to my desk—I’d actually seen him on one of the days we’d had off as we’d had a Star Wars marathon. It was something we made a point to do at least once every three months.

‘Nothing really, just boring domestic stuff.’ He shrugged, wheeling his chair over to my desk.

‘Same, well that and baking,’ I shrugged.

‘What’s the matter?’ He explained when I frowned in confusion, ‘you sighed, that’s your tell.’

I sighed again, biting my lip and looking over to Hotch’s still dark office, ‘can you keep a secret?’

‘You know I can, Y/N.’ He assured me, and I knew he was right.

‘I’m having certain... feelings for someone I shouldn’t be, and I’m just struggling to get over it.’ I admitted, looking down at my coffee cup to avoid his observant eyes.

‘You mean Hotch?’ He clarified, and my gaze found his, shocked and surprised at his casual question.

‘You know?’ I squeaked, putting my mug down before I dropped it, ‘does anyone else?’

‘I don’t think so, I mean I’ve known for a while now, but I didn’t say anything because I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.’ He shrugged and his calm attitude quelled my anxiety a little.

‘Okay well yes, I’m in love with Hotch and I don’t know how to make it stop.’ I sighed, running a hand through my hair, ‘I know he’ll never look at me that way, plus he’s my boss everyone would see it as inappropriate and that’s not even factoring in the age gap. I’ve tried dating other men but I just compare them to him and find them lacking, or they end up being total jerks and well you know about the guy Pen set me up with.’

He nodded, his brow crinkled with sympathy.

‘I know what you’re going through. Well, kind of.’ He bit his lip, running a hand through his chocolate locks, ‘it took me a while to get over JJ.’

‘I didn’t know you liked her.’ I admitted softly, my hand reaching out to squeeze his.

‘I did, for about a year, until I realised that she was never going to see me that way. Then she met Will and had Henry so it was easier for me to move on.’ He explained, taking a sip of his coffee, ‘how long have you been in love with him?’

‘I’ve had feelings for him since I met him, but I never really paid them any mind until we were on our way back from a case on the jet. Everyone was asleep and Hotch was on his way back from the bathroom, on his way he stopped and covered JJ and Prentiss with blankets, and got you a pillow and put it under your head. When he saw that I was still awake he just smiled at me and sat down next to Rossi. He didn’t say a word and in that moment I realised I loved him.’ My voice was low, but still loud enough for Spencer to hear, and though neither of us knew it, it was loud enough for Hotch to hear from the kitchenette, neither of us aware of his presence, ‘that was almost two years ago.’

‘You should tell him.’ Spence said, his hand entwining with mine, knowing the warmth of his hand would offer me some comfort.

‘Why? It won’t change anything for the good. He’ll tell me I’m his subordinate, that a relationship would be inappropriate, that he’d never be interested even if I didn’t work for him. I’ll be heartbroken and embarrassed and it could change the whole team dynamic. I don’t want that to happen.’ I sighed, looking down and fighting to stop any tears from falling. But like I said, Spence was like my twin, he knew when I was upset and I was bundled up in his arms before I could take another breath. The tears fell in earnest then as I sobbed against his chest, knowing I needed this moment to pull myself together before the rest of the team arrived.

‘So what are you going to do?’ He murmured against my hair.

‘Suffer in silence and hope I don’t die alone.’ I said, sarcasm heavy in my tone, but it wasn’t enough to completely disguise the fear in my choice.

‘Hey,’ he pulled back to look into my eyes, to allow me to see the sincerity behind his next words, ‘no matter what, you’ll never be alone, I promise you that. We’re all a family here, Y/N. You know that.’

A soft smile formed on my lips, ‘thanks Spence. You’re the best twin ever.’

We chuckled together and I pulled away to wipe the moisture from my cheeks before looking at the time on my watch. 8:45. The team would be arriving soon.

‘I’m gonna go and clean up.’ I murmured leaning over to pick up my bag and missing Hotch making his escape to the hallway so he wouldn’t be seen when I stood up.

‘Okay.’ Spence’s voice was soft and he returned the smile I sent him as I left for the bathroom.

By the time I’d ran some cold water over my face, reapplied my make up and ran a brush through my hair, I looked like I had when I first stepped through the doors this morning. No evidence of my morning heart-to-heart with Dr Spencer Reid remained as I made my way back to my desk, placing my bag onto my chair and joining the others in the conference room.

‘Sorry, I was just in the bathroom.’ I murmured, feeling the embarrassed flush form on my cheeks. Only I could arrive two hours early and still be late for the briefing.

‘It’s no problem,’ Hotch replied, nodding at Garcia to continue relaying the case.

I didn’t notice his eyes flicker back to me after I’d opened the case file, his dark eyes swimming with adoration, concern and sadness for a moment before his guards rose again and his attention shifted back to Garcia.

Reid however noticed the glance and felt his heart squeeze with hope. Y/N might not have noticed Hotch’s behaviour towards her, but he certainly had. He doubted anyone else on the team had observed the same things he had, because his eidetic memory didn’t allow him to miss anything. The glances, the fond looks, the concern for her during cases, how his expression softened at her happiness, how he made sure that there was always a supply of chocolate pop tarts in the kitchenette at work, because Y/N often forgot to eat during cases and he knew the sweet treat would offer her at least some nutrition and a pick-me-up for the particularly hard days.

Y/N didn’t know about any of it, and he’d considered telling her, but he knew she wouldn't believe him, and also it wasn’t his place to reveal. If Hotch wanted her to know, he’d tell her himself, he didn’t want to cause her any pain if he did reveal his observations only for Hotch to shoot it down and hurt her. He shook his head and focused on the briefing, reiterating some statistics on Florida.

He just hoped it all worked out for his friends. They deserved happiness.

A weary sigh left my lips as I wondered to my desk, eyeing the stack of paperwork and deciding to stay late and get it done; it was better than letting it build up to obscene levels. We’d just returned from Florida after ten days tracking a man who kidnapped families, held them for a week and then murdered them all. We’d managed to catch him before he killed the new family he’d abducted and I was beyond relieved, as was the rest of the team as we always were when we managed to save someone.

I glanced over to my right, eyeing Emily’s tired eyes with a soft smile. She’d stayed behind to finish paperwork like I had, but I could tell she was about ten minutes away from passing out. Seeing as I’d already managed to finish the few I’d accumulated on my desk, I wheeled my chair over to her desk and snatched up her remaining six files. It would take me another hour and a half, but it was worth it if she’d go home to sleep.

‘Y/N, what are you doing?’ She yawned, pushing her chair away from her desk.

‘Go home, Em.’ I told her, my voice gentle but firm. I continued when I saw her hesitate, despite her desire to take me up on the offer, ‘I’m serious, go home and snuggle your cat. Get some sleep.’

‘Are you sure?’ She murmured, another yawn escaping her lips.

‘I’m sure. Get outta here.’ I winked, turning and hiding my own yawn in my fist as I placed her files on my desk.

‘Thanks Y/N. Love you.’ She hugged me from behind and left with a kiss to my cheek.

‘You better.’ I yelled after her, smiling at her tired laughter.

I turned and started to work, I vaguely registered the elevator open and close as I filled in the report efficiently and quickly. I was determined to get through the remaining files before the exhaustion seeped in and took me over, too. I could feel it lingering in the back of my mind, just waiting to strike, but I hoped my concentration and the coffee I was drinking would hold it off long enough for me to finish. I also put Taylor Swift’s new album ‘Folklore’ on shuffle quietly in the back ground, hoping to prevent the empty floor freaking me out for as long as possible.

I was humming along with my tears ricochet as I signed the last file, tossing it onto the separate finished pile for Emily. I placed them back onto her desk and sat back down at mine, yawning as I turned off the music and just took a moment to relax. Of course in hindsight, that was a mistake, because I was exhausted and vulnerable to sleep. I didn't remember my head falling to rest on top of my arms, nor did I remember closing my eyes, but the next thing I knew was a large, warm hand on my lower back, gently rubbing back and forth to carefully rouse me from sleep.

‘Hotch?’ I murmured, my voice thick with sleep as I blinked, trying to wake myself properly. I looked down to my watch and saw the time: 2:45am, the last time I’d looked it had been 1am.

‘You should go home and get some sleep.’ He said, his voice gentle as he rubbed my back once more before moving away.

‘Yeah.’ I agreed, standing and stretching, a yawn leaving my mouth as I did, ‘what about you?’

‘I’m heading home now.’ He assured me, a small fond smile on his lips.

‘Okay.’ I offered him a grateful smile as he helped my uncoordinated, still partially unconscious self pull my jacket on.

‘Did you get my cookies?’ I wondered as we stood in the elevator that would take us to the parking garage.

‘I did.’ He smiled again, his eyes sparkling with that soft emotion again. I found myself returning the gesture, hoping he didn’t notice the flush that had most definitely formed on my cheeks.

‘Good.’ I said eventually, my brain apparently incapable of coming up with anything better as I leaned back against the wall, too exhausted to stand properly.

‘Jack will love the Spider-Man cookies. He’s still massively obsessed with him, I’m sure he’ll be his Halloween costume this year.’ Hotch mused, a small smile on his face as he spoke of his son.

People always assumed because Hotch was so authoritative and serious at work, that he wasn’t capable of smiling ever. But that wasn’t the case, sometimes his humour did find a way to integrate itself at work, but whenever a case was over, he became much more relaxed and smiled a lot easier as the responsibility from his job eased from his shoulders for a little while. What I didn’t know, was that he never relaxed around anyone else as much as he did around me.

‘I don’t know.’ I pursed my lips to hide my knowing smile, ‘Jack might have already mentioned what he was going to dress up as for Halloween this year last week over the family picnic.’

Hotch had invited the team to spend some time at the park with him and Jack. Garcia had insisted on turning it into a picnic, and had insisted on my help for preparing the food, seeing as I’d been preparing meals for Hotch, and sometimes Jack, for months now so I knew what they would like. It had been a huge success, and I had been reminded again what an amazing father Aaron was to Jack, he was an amazing kid.

‘Really, what’s that?’ He asked, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

‘Sorry, I’m sworn to secrecy.’ I winked and then blushed immediately after when I remembered exactly who I was winking at. I cleared my throat, ‘but something tells me you’ll love it.’

‘I’m sure I will.’ His voice became soft as his eyes stared into mine, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was talking about something else.

I was as powerless to look away from him as I always was, he had this captivating aura around him, this powerful personality that you couldn't help but submit to. Or maybe it was just me who felt his bewitchment so strongly because of my additional feelings for him. Either way, he didn’t look away from me until the elevator dinged, announcing our arrival to the parking garage. Even then, it took him a moment longer and I found myself wondering what he saw when he looked at me that made him so reluctant to break eye contact. When he did, look away, I became aware of how fast my heart was beating, how erratic my breath had become and as I walked to my car I was overcome with embarrassment, because it was something that wouldn’t have escaped his notice.

‘Goodnight, Y/N.’ He didn’t speak above his usual volume, but it was easy to hear him in the near empty garage.

‘Goodnight, Sir.’ I replied, climbing into my car and taking a deep breath, before turning on my car and driving away.

When Foyet had attacked Hotch, I had been the one to track him down at the hospital. I had refused to leave his side while I waited for him to wake up, tears trailing uncontrollably down my face as I took in his weakened state. I’d hated seeing him so pale, so vulnerable, and when the rest of the team had been informed after the new case had been solved, so had they. It had been awful, even more so when he woke and immediately went into profiler mode. He discovered that Hayley and Jack were in danger and ordered for them to be taken into protective custody before he passed out again. I’d stayed while the team went to retrieve them both, holding his hand until he regained consciousness.

‘Hey,’ he murmured, his dark eyes on mine. I went to remove my hand from his, but he tightened his grip and prevented me from doing so. I saw the soft look in his eyes again and relaxed my grip, looking down to hide my tears.

‘Hey.’ I replied, realising I’d said nothing in response to his greeting. I winced when I heard how rough my voice was, a sure sign I’d been crying.

‘You’ve been crying.’ It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact.

‘Only Aaron Hotchner would be profiling from his hospital bed.’ I teased, my heart feeling a little lighter at the amusement that formed on his expression.

‘Not profiling, just paying attention.’ He said, his voice low and weak and it made my heart hurt.

‘Of course I’ve been crying, you’re in a hospital bed, I walked into your apartment to find blood on the floor, and found you here with multiple stab wounds.’ I frowned, the images replaying themselves through my brain.

‘Hey.’ He squeezed my hand and my gaze returned to his, his dark eyes soft and reassuring, ‘I’m okay, Y/N. A little beat up, but I’m going to live and that’s all that matters.’

I started into his eyes for a long moment before nodding. That’s all that matters. He was right of course, but we both knew the only reason that was true, was because Foyet wasn’t finished with him yet, he wanted to watch him fall apart without his son and ex-wife in his life. But I refused to even think about that, because we were going to find him, and until we did, the whole team would be there for him. We wouldn't let him lose himself like the previous detective Foyet made a deal with had.

‘I’m really glad you’re alive.’ I admitted with a whisper, my eyes glazing over with tears, and I knew that my eyes were essentially an open book in that moment, my guards had crumbled to rubble over the past twenty four hours. I knew he could see just how relieved I was that he was okay, as his eyes glimmered with that unidentifiable emotion again as he squeezed my hand, telling me he was glad too.

My hand stayed grasped in his until Hayley and Jack arrived.

When we found Foyet, it hadn’t been before he’d managed to track down Hayley and Jack. Without a doubt, it had been the hardest case any of us had to work, hearing Hayley tell Hotch goodbye before we heard the gunshots that told us she’d been murdered. We all raced to the house to find Hotch beating Foyet beyond his death, not letting up until I placed a hand on his shoulder, the soft touch making him pause immediately.

‘He’s gone, Hotch.’ I murmured, squeezing his shoulder as he sobbed, ‘where’s Jack?’

‘Jack.’ He sobbed, jerking up from the ground and sprinting upstairs. I followed him, knowing he wouldn’t want Jack to see him the way he was, covered in blood, long enough to ask questions.

He ran to his office, falling to his knees next to the window seat and lifting it up to reveal a smiling and proud Jack.

‘I worked the case, daddy!’ He cheered as Aaron lifted him from inside the seat before pulling the lid back down.

‘You did a good job, buddy.’ He smiled through his tears, gripping his sons shoulders and kissing his forehead.

Prentiss stepped into the room behind me, her eyes soft with sympathy and heartbreak— the same look held in everyone’s eyes in that moment.

‘Hey Jack, why don’t we leave your daddy to clean up, huh? I’ll take you downstairs and you can play with the sirens in the car.’ Prentiss said, forcing her tone to appear cheery.

‘Can I daddy?’ Jack pleaded, his smile bright.

‘Of course buddy,’ Aaron said, squeezing his sons shoulder once more before Jack darted to Prentiss. She took his hand and led him from the room.

I didn’t remember moving to kneel in front of him, but I suddenly was, my arms wrapping around his neck as his head rested onto my shoulder. I held him as he sobbed, his tears trailing down my neck and shoulder, my hands moved comfortingly through his hair as he held me in a rib breaking grip. I held him until his throat was raw from crying, until his tears dried up, until he felt strong enough to pull away from my hold. At that point, no one had stepped into the room. I assumed the team had deduced that Aaron would need some time, and had kept everyone away knowing Hotch would hate anyone to see him vulnerable.

‘I’m so sorry, Hotch.’ I murmured, my eyes glazed over with tears at the sight of his pain.

‘I know.’ I could see the small spark of gratitude in his eyes among the pain, the grief, the worry, ‘we should clean up.’

I frowned at his use of ‘we’ until I glanced down and saw that I was covered in blood too; it must have transferred over as I comforted him. I nodded and took the hand he offered me to help me from the floor. He led moved to the small closet in the corner— I assumed he kept clothes in his office during his marriage to Hayley to avoid disturbing her if he got called into a case at odd hours of the morning. He pulled out a shirt and dress pants for himself before turning to me.

‘I think Hayley still has some clothes here.’ He said and it took me a second to understand what he meant. When I did I shook my head, almost a little to vigorously, but I couldn’t help it, wearing her clothes, when she was lying dead in the other room just didn’t seem right.

Hotch nodded in understanding, handing me a plain grey T-shirt that obviously belonged to him. I wondered into the en-suite, taking off my vest and unbuttoning my blouse before tugging the shirt over my head, tying it in a knot at my waist to make it more form fitting. I then washed my forearms and hands, watching the water run a light pink as I scrubbed away the blood. A few tears fell while I worked, but I forced myself to get it under control before I left the bathroom— this wasn’t about me, it wasn’t acceptable for me to fall apart right then. When I emerged from the bathroom, Aaron entered. As I waited for him to return I took deep and even breaths to keep myself in control of my emotions. While none of the team had been particularly close to Hayley, we all loved her because she’d loved Aaron, our leader, the man we looked up to, the man we trusted to make the tough decisions. And so, his grief, his loss was going to be felt by the entire team. I couldn’t even imagine how this was going to effect Jack, who was young enough to potentially not understand that his mom was never coming home.

I wiped away my tears and cleared my throat as the door opened and Hotch joined me in his office. I could see the concern in his eyes so I must have looked bad. I felt myself shake my head, amazed that even while he was feeling the worst pain he’d ever felt, he still took notice and cared about those around him.

‘Come on, you should get to Jack before he drives the neighbours insane with those sirens.’ I managed a smile that became more genuine at his breathy laugh as we walked down the stairs.

Everything was going to be okay, I’d make sure of it.

It had been six months since Hayley’s passing and life was starting to form a new normal for all of us. The team all offered their help once him and Jack had settled into his apartment. Aaron had respectfully declined, insisting he wanted to find out and adjust to being a single parent without the help. We all acknowledged his wishes, but made a point of us all going on a day trip at any available opportunity— that ended up being once a month.

Despite what he said, I continued to bring in prepared meals to work, more often than before and always for him and Jack, knowing that the last thing he’d have the energy for when he got home would be cooking. Plus, this meant he had more time to spend with his son before he tucked him in, and well I didn’t need to explain why that was a plus. He thanked me gratefully every time, and after a few months, he started inviting me over for dinner with him and Jack at least once a week. Sometimes it would be on one of our rare days off, or it would be after a long case before we started a new one the next day. Either way those dinners became the highlight of my week, primarily because of the company; I loved seeing Hotch relaxed and happy, which he always was around Jack, and I loved hearing Jack’s endless stories about school, or the imaginary world he’d created in one of his drawings. At first the domesticity of the gatherings threw me for a loop, but I continually reminded myself that I was there as a friend and nothing more until it sunk in. And so, we settled into a comfortable routine where I was blissfully ignoring the way my love for him only seemed to grow deeper the more time I spent with him. How was I to know that it was all going to go up in flames?

It was any other Monday morning as I rode the elevator up to the BAU floor, but when I stepped out and noticed everyone already gathered around the conference table, a bad feeling started to form in my gut. I dropped my jacket and purse off at my desk before heading into the room, not liking the way everyone’s eyes turned to me.

‘Am I late?’ I frowned, sliding into my usual seat in between Reid and JJ.

‘No, you’re right on time.’ Rossi assured me, his eyes flickering over to Aaron.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked, noticing there weren’t any files in front of anyone that would indicate a new case.

‘Johnathan Rivers is going to be put to death next week.’ Hotch started, and I felt myself tense at the name, ‘he’s revealed that there are more victims we didn’t even know he’d taken. He’s offered to reveal their names and locations in exchange for something.’ He continued when I didn’t ask, ‘he wants to be interviewed by you and me.’

‘Why?’ I couldn’t fathom why he would want Hotch there. Me I could understand— I was the victim that got away, he probably wanted to taunt me with details of what he’d done to the other women we hadn’t saved, to torture me with the guilt and knowledge of what I’d escaped when so many others hadn’t.

‘I don’t know.’ Aaron admitted, knowing that I wasn’t asking about me, but I got the feeling he wasn’t being completely truthful when his eyes darted from mine after he spoke, ‘if you don’t want to do this, I understand.’

‘Of course I don’t want to do this.’ I huffed a laugh, but it was void of humour, ‘but I’m not going to put me being uncomfortable above providing families with closure. When do we leave?’

He studied my expression for what felt like a long moment before he nodded and dismissed us with, ‘wheels up in ten. The rest of the team will remain behind to assist on any cases that come in.’

Everyone nodded and stood from the table. I headed for the bathroom, needing a moment to compose myself before I grabbed my go back from underneath my desk. I ran my hands underneath the cool water, taking a deep breath and trying to keep the memories from the forefront of my mind.

His sadistic smile. His hands running over my body. Not being able to move to stop him. No. Stop it. Get off me.

My breath caught in my throat and I braced my hands on the sink, ignoring the tears falling down my cheeks in favour of getting my breathing under control. If I didn’t I was going to hyperventilate and have a panic attack. But that knowledge didn’t help, it only seemed to make the invisible noose around my neck grow tighter and I fell to my knees, my vision becoming spotty and the shallow breaths I took feeling like fire in my throat.

‘Y/N.’ I’d know that authoritative voice anywhere, but at the moment I couldn’t bring myself to respond. I felt his hand envelop my right, squeezing it tightly as he continued, ‘you need to take deep breaths. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Match your breathing to mine.’ His voice was low, commanding and impossible to ignore, as he took his breaths I tried my best to mirror him, encouraged as he whispered soft reassurances to me whenever a deep breath broke into several shallow, panicked breaths. I don’t know how long he stayed there with me for, my hand in his, whispering encouragements and continually reminding me to match my breathing to his, but eventually I regained control and a long, relieved sigh left me when I realised it was over.

My forehead fell against his shoulder, exhaustion falling over me as I soaked his suit jacket with my tears. I hated panic attacks. They sucked, in truth I’d forgotten just how much. Hotch’s hand stroked my hair while the other rubbed soothing circles into my lower back. He never once complained, never gave the impression that he was getting impatient with how long it was taking me to pull myself together.

But when I did lift my head from his shoulder, my hands resting on the tops of his muscled arms for support the first words I said were, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’ His eyes were sincere and reassuring, and I felt the tension in my chest ease a little.

I nodded, my head falling back to his shoulder. In the back of my mind I knew there was no need for me to still be clinging to him like this, that we were shifting more towards inappropriate behaviour the longer he held me in his arms, but I couldn’t bring myself to care, and seeing as he wasn’t in a hurry to pull away I didn't either. We stayed there for a few minutes longer but the moment was broken when his phone started to ring in his suit jacket. I reluctantly pulled back and stood with him as he pulled out the device and answered it.

‘Hotchner.’ He said, his voice slipping back into his usual stern work tone.

I tuned out of the conversation, wiping my cheeks and running some cold water over my face. I didn't have my bag with me so I couldn’t apply fresh make up to make my face look less tear stained, which was frustrating but it was what it was. I blotted my face dry and offered Hotch a reassuring smile as he examined my expression once again.

‘I’m fine.’ I told him once he’d hung up the phone.

‘Are you sure? When I said you didn’t have to do this, I meant it.’ He murmured, his eyes softening with sincerity.

‘I know you did, but I meant it when I said I wouldn’t put my discomfort above giving families closure.’ I sighed, gesturing towards the door, ‘we should get going.’

He nodded, guiding me from the room with a hand hovering above my lower back. I grabbed my go bag and purse from my desk, relieved the rest of the team was in the conference room again, most likely being briefed on another case. If they’d seen me in my current state, I was sure I’d have more people to convince that I was up to this.

We boarded the jet, taking one of the double seats next to each other. We spent most of the flight in silence, Hotch spent time going over the past cases, but I couldn't bring myself to, worried seeing what he’d done to those other women would trigger a panic attack. I took time to properly pull myself together, knowing I couldn’t sit across from a psychopath anything less than guarded and prepared. By the time the jet’s wheels touched down on the tarmac, I was ready to face him.

‘It’s nice to see you again.’ His smile was the same, it still sent a slither of discomfort down my spine, but I refused to let it show on my face.

‘We’re here as you requested, now give us the names and locations of the victims we missed.’ Hotch said, I could see him out of my peripheral vision, he was sat straight, quietly confident and his tone was stern. But Rivers hadn’t stopped staring at me, and I wasn’t about to break first.

‘Names,’ Hotch prompted after a moment, his tone hardening.

He finally looked away and I took in the smug upturn of his lips and the malice that glittered in his eyes. I didn’t know what he was going to say, but I knew it wasn’t going to be good.

‘I’ll tell you what you want to know.’ His eyes flickered to me again, and when Aaron cleared his throat to attract his gaze, the smile that grew on his face was that of a sharks, ‘if you tell me something first.’

‘What do you want to know?’ He asked, a confused frown forming on his face.

‘What I would like to know is how you function so well as a team when you’re clearly in love with one another.’ He said and I felt my blood run cold. Of all the ways I’d pictured Hotch finding out about my feelings for him, this was most definitely not on the top ten list.

Neither of us spoke, and he took that as a sign to continue as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed arrogantly against his chest, ‘I noticed the night you arrested me. While I was cuffed and led away by your brawny agent you rushed over to her. Now love is not something I understand myself but I’ve witnessed it on others, specifically on the two of you that night. The way you held her, the way she relaxed with your arms around her, the way you refused to leave her alone and carried her over to the ambulance when she passed out.’

I’ve witnessed it on others, specifically the two of you that night.

Specifically the two of you that night.

The two of you.

He didn’t mean... did he?

I banished that train of thought before it could run away from me. Rivers didn’t know what he was talking about, he just wanted to rile us up, to exert the minimal control he still had to play with us and feel some form of accomplishment. I took a breath and leaned back in my seat, making a show of rolling my eyes. I’d be damned if I was going to let this psycho see just how well he’d pin pointed and played on my insecurities.

‘Not that it’s any of your business,’ I examined my nails, knowing not giving him my full attention would play on his superiority complex. Like I said, most domineering personalities were arrogant and incredibly narcissistic— Johnathan Rivers possessed that particular characteristic in spades, ‘but the way I feel for Agent Hotchner is no different than how I feel for the rest of my team. I love them all and they’re like family to me. Now I don’t know what you think you witnessed, but I assure you, your assumptions are false.’

I leaned forward to look him in the eyes and when he suddenly jolted forward, to make a grab for me, I refused to flinch and continued to meet his eye. I felt Hotch lean forward too, slamming his hand onto the metal table and once again demanding the names.

‘What’s the matter Agent Hotchner? Nervous about sharing your own feelings on the subject?’ He asked, but chuckled at Aaron’s dark glare, ‘fine. Wendy Grooves, Sarah Jones, Victoria McMillan and Melinda Hewitt. All of them can be found buried underneath concrete in the basement of the house I owned. I had to move the dumping site when I ran out of room.’

Without another word Hotch and I stood, so simultaneous that it was almost as if we planned it, and strode from the room. He pulled out his phone to call Morgan to put together an extraction team to recover the bodies that we’d been given. We both headed for the jet afterwards, neither of us wanting to stay any longer there than we had to. I could feel the tension that crackled between us and how it seemed to intensify the longer we didn't talk. As much as I hated it, I didn’t want to be the one to break the silence, and so we stayed quiet until Hotch shifted in his seat across from me half way through our flight.

‘We should talk.’ He said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it, and when I looked up into his eyes I could see his hesitation along with that ever present soft emotion.

‘Okay.’ I reluctantly agreed, taking a deep breath and steeling myself for rejection, ‘I’ve been in love with you—.’

‘I know how you feel about me, Y/N.’ He cut me off, continuing when I blinked in confusion, ‘I had my suspicions before, but when I heard you talking to Reid almost a year ago, that confirmed it.’

‘You heard me.’ I repeated, feeling embarrassment swirling in my gut, ‘why didn’t you say anything?’

‘Because at the time, I was still dealing with getting over Hayley, and then she...’ he trailed off, closing his eyes for a moment, ‘then she died and I didn’t realise how much time had passed. And I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure I was ready to move on, until I was sure I could be completely invested in the relationship and not feeling guilty for moving on and being happy.’

I couldn’t believe my ears. The way he was talking it sounded like... like he had feelings for me too?

‘But I am ready to move on, Y/N. If you’re still willing to give me a chance?’ He asked, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions, the most prominent being hope. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning forward and taking his hands in mine.

‘I am absolutely sure I want to give you a chance, Aaron.’ I murmured, his following smile was contagious.

He leaned forward, his hands pulling away from mine to caress my face, gently wiping away the happy tears that fell down my cheeks. His forehead fell against mine, and I knew he was giving me the chance to pull away, to change my mind, and when I didn’t he leaned forward and sealed his mouth over mine. The kiss started off tentative, as all first kisses did, and when we’d become more familiar with one another, his hand lifted to my hair as he deepened the kiss. My hands slid into his midnight locks, enjoying the softness and tugging on the strands. I felt a groan vibrate in his chest and he pulled me closer, both of his hands lifting me by my waist and onto his lap. One hand trailed down my back, the other fell to the side of my neck, his thumb moving back and forth over my pulse point. Before the kiss could deepen any further, we reluctantly pulled apart, our lungs in dire need of oxygen. Our foreheads rested against each other, our erratic breath mingling as we worked to get it under control. Once we’d recovered more, he placed a chaste kiss to my lips, then my nose, then each eye lid before finishing with my forehead. I chuckled breathlessly, my heart picking up again, as his hands rested on my cheeks and he stared at me with that soft emotion again. Only now I could see what it was, now that my mind wasn’t clouded with fear of misinterpretation. It was love.

‘We have some things we need to discuss.’ He murmured after a while, ever the boss.

‘I know.’ My hand covered his left on my cheek, shifting it so I could kiss his palm before I entwined our fingers together.

‘I don’t think we should tell the team right away, while we figure things out and get into our own rhythm without having to worry about being over assessed when they know.’ He said, his other hand moved through my hair, a smile forming on his lips when I leaned into his touch, ‘and we’ll have to file a relationship form with Strauss.’

‘Sounds good to me.’ And it did, hearing him talk about what we would need to do once we’d found dynamic as a couple, made it seem more real and long lasting.

After that, we didn’t talk much, and I didn’t move from his lap. My head rested against his shoulder, my face nuzzled into his neck. His hand moved through my hair while his other held a case file that he was reading, apparently it was one JJ had asked for a second opinion on. I didn’t remember exactly when I fell asleep, but the last thought that ran though my mind was one word.

Safe.

It was three weeks later that Aaron and I went on our first date. We’d spent time together in between of course, but we’d only had the odd day off since and that time was meant for Jack, which I understood. I loved the little guy so if spending time with Aaron meant spending time with Jack too, it was hardly a hardship and more of a blessing. Which is why I didn’t push for us to have our first date, knowing that he cared for me as I cared for him practically had me walking on air. But when he asked me out to dinner and a movie, and told me that Jack was with is aunt for the night, I found myself feeling nervous with butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I’d dressed in a form fitting slinky dark purple body con dress, paired with some black flats. I’d curled my hair and clipped it back so it fell down the centre of my back, my make up was light and I was wearing lip balm over lipstick— I didn’t want to have to worry about topping it up throughout the night.

His knock at the door made the butterflies swarm again and I opened the door with a smile. I felt my eyes dilate with attraction as I took him in— he was wearing his usual dress shoes and pants, but the way he wore his shirt made me want to drool. It was pale blue, his top two buttons were undone, allowing me to spy some chest hair, and his cuffs were rolled up to his forearms. I couldn't help the way my gaze lingered on the veins that protruded from his arms, and when I finally managed to meet his eyes again I noticed they were alight with attraction and pleasure at my reaction to him.

‘You look...gorgeous.’ I said, for lack of a better word. His smile grew on his lips as he reached forward, taking my hand in his. My free hand fell to his forearm, running along his veins and enjoying the softness of his skin.

‘Thank you, honey.’ He murmured, his hand moving to the side of my face, his thumb moving over my cheekbone, ‘you look breath taking.’

I blushed at the compliment, placing a kiss to his palm in thanks. As I grabbed my keys and my card wallet, I realised I hadn’t grabbed a bag to carry them in, before I could Aaron took them from my hands and placed them in his back pocket with a wink that made my heart skip a beat.

As we walked to the elevator, he told me about how Jack had taken his FBI badge into school for show and tell, without telling him about it first. He’d worried that he’d misplaced it, or left it in Detroit— the last place we’d gone to for a case—until Jack had come home and told his dad about his day. He’d told him he shouldn’t take things without asking, but he’d been more touched than mad.

When we arrived at the restaurant, we sat next to one another in the privacy of a booth, eating Italian food and drinking wine. We spent the night basking in each other’s company, sharing stories, laughing and deciding to order dessert when we realised we’d lost track of time and missed the movie. But I didn’t mind, I preferred it actually instead of being in a place where we couldn’t share conversation. We stayed until an apologetic waiter told us they were closing and asked us to leave. And we drove back to his apartment, his hand entwined with mine and his other on the steering wheel as music from the radio played quietly.

‘Jack has a play date tomorrow morning, so Jessica won’t be bringing him home until the afternoon.’ Hotch murmured to me as we stepped into his apartment.

‘Oh really, so no early start tomorrow?’ I grinned, a sigh of contentment leaving me as his hands rested on my waist.

‘Which is good, because when I’m through with you, I think you’ll need your rest to recover.’ He spoke quietly against the skin of my throat in between kisses.

There was no arrogance in his voice, he was confident but quietly so, and I assumed he had a reason to be. He wasn’t the kind of man who was self assured without knowing it to be true.

‘Hmm... I think you’re all talk, Hotchner.’ I teased, but it was rendered pointless as a quiet moan left my throat when his lips latched onto the sensitive spot behind my ear.

He chuckled against my skin, not bothering to respond as my behaviour had already told him everything he needed to know. My hands wound in his hair as his lips continued their exploration, grateful for his grip on my lower back, as without the support I was sure my knees would have buckled. My head fell against the back of the front door as my breathing became erratic, while his lips trailed over my collarbone and down between the valley of my breasts. His hand slid the thin strap down my arm, and allowing him to move the fabric of my dress and close his mouth around my nipple. I moaned, feeling myself grow hotter as his hand moved down my legs, slipping under the satin fabric and trailing up my bare leg and stopping behind my knee. He lifted my right leg to hook around his waist, and then did the same with my left, his lips never stopping in their pleasurable torment on my chest. I barely noticed him carrying me to his bedroom, until my back was met with the cool temperature of his sheets. His lips returned to mine, the kiss full of passion, lust and when our tongues met, a battle for dominance that he won with minimal effort.

As we became lost in each other, as he moved inside of me, as he whispered praises and encouragements in my ear, as we reached our climaxes together, I found myself fall that little bit more in love with him. Because, he was gentle, he took care of me and my desires, and he found pleasure in doing so, just as I knew he would.

Much later, as we both lay back to regather our breath and exhaustion overcame me, I found myself thinking— there was no way us being together would feel so natural, so right, if we weren’t meant to be. And in that moment, I knew we were.

Aaron Hotchner was my soulmate.

A/N: This came to me after I read of terrible coffee and late night rides by @venusbarnes It’s absolutely wonderful and if you haven’t read it yet, and like Aaron Hotchner imagines, you can find it on their Masterlist. Trust me, you’ll love it.

I hope ya’ll liked this one, I know it’s long, but I just couldn’t bring myself to stop. Whoops.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #criminal minds

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sometimesitrytowritethings · 4 years ago

Text

Mountain Man: Part 3

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Swearing, Mourning, Nudity

Summary: You never thought you’d love again. Then Arthur Morgan came into town. Fate continuously has you meeting each other in odd ways, and a troubled past is something you are both familiar with. Perhaps that’s what will make this time different.

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The smell of soap filled the air on the porch of the boarding house, the same as it did every other Thursday. Work didn’t start until the late afternoon, so you took the extra time in the morning to do some chores around the boarding house. It wasn’t the most entertaining of times, but it netted you a good ten dollars off of your monthly rent, and you recently had been able to convince Ben to work on his reading as you washed.

This week, there was notably more to wash, with an additional border at the house. Mary seemed nice enough, if a little arrogant, and had offered to pay you an additional five dollars to wash her laundry alongside yours. Given that it looked like she hadn’t worked with her hands a day in her life, and not expecting much to wash after the woman’s short stay, you’d agreed.

However, you were surprised to note that, over the course of less than one week, Mary had managed to need five chemises, three skirts, and four blouses washed. At first, you had balked at the large pile of laundry, who goes through so much in one week? Seemingly having missed your surprised face, Mary had thanked you before heading back inside, mentioning something about coffee and a book.

Honestly, you would have been furious with her if you hadn’t taken the time to look at the clothes. The majority of them were mostly clean, the shirts slightly scented with sweat, and the skirts and chemises had a light ring of dirt on the hem. All of these clothes could have easily been worn weeks or even months longer before they even needed to be considered for washing. This left you more amused than it did irritated - if she wanted to pay you to essentially dip her clothes in soapy water while you were doing the rest of the wash anyway, you would certainly take the extra money.

You hummed quietly, lightly scrubbing the dirt from the hem of one of her skirts, as Ben practiced reading to you from an “Otis Miller” storybook that he had been slowly working his way through. He would slowly sound out each word, as you had taught him, and occasionally ask for help with larger, unfamiliar words.

He had read through an entire 5 pages by the time Mary had come outside to join you. She held two steaming cups of coffee in her hands and her book under her arm, as she sat in the worn rocking chair. She placed one cup at her side and held the other out for you. “I’ve made it fresh, I thought you might like some,” she mentioned with a smile. “And to thank you for helping me out with my laundry.”

You smiled back and stood, wiping your wet hands on your skit. Was it still considered being helpful if you were only doing it because she paid you? You supposed it didn’t really matter. “I’m glad to help out, Mary,” you reached for the cup, holding it and enjoying the warmth on your hands, “thank you for the coffee.” There was a small stool next to where Ben sat, which you took, ruffling his hair and giving him a kiss on the top of his head as you sat next to him.

Having seen you take a break from work, Ben looked up from his book. “Mama, can I go play?” He had been hard at work for about an hour - he deserved a break.

You nodded, and he immediately darted out towards the long grass in the yard, where a cat was sleeping lazily in the sun. Upon hearing Bens footsteps, the poor animal stood up and dashed to his left. The cat was fast, but your son was determined - he dashed after her. You laughed lightly and sipped your coffee, keeping an eye on the boy. “Have you been enjoying your stay so far?” you asked, not exactly comfortable with the silence.

Mary was also watching Ben with a small smile on her face. “As much as possible. It’s a…” she paused, evidently searching for the right word, “charming little town, and I do wish I were here under better circumstances.” The diplomatic answer. Valentine was a dirty, smelly old town and everyone who lived there knew it. The nickname “Mudtown” had stuck for a reason.

“I’m sorry if this is too forward of me, but if you don’t mind me asking,” you started, fiddling with the warm coffee cup in your hands and turning your gaze to her. The steam from your cup was rising in the cool morning air, and the warmth seeped into your chilled fingers nicely. “What brings you to Valentine? Most of the time we only get tradesmen and livestock around here. It’s not usually the kind of place for a high-society lady like yourself.”

Mary seemed only slightly taken aback by your question. She must have been asked the same thing nearly every day since her arrival - everyone knew this was not a town for tourists. If she wanted to have a taste of the outdoors, she was much better off in Strawberry, which you had heard was recently marketing itself as a mountain resort. “Oh! Well, I suppose you’ll find out eventually, but I would appreciate it if you don’t spread the word around,” she looked off into the distance as she spoke, as if she was too embarrassed to look into your eyes.

“Of course.”

She sighed before continuing, her breath blowing the steam from her coffee away from her. “My brother, little Jamie, he’s run off and,” she paused and she chewed lightly on her bottom lip, “and joined the Chelonians. I’ve heard he’s been seen around here and was hoping to convince him to come home.”

“The Chelonians?” you had recognised the name from the papers, but had never really paid attention to the group. Supposedly they were camped nearby, in the mountains, but you didn’t know much else. They had never bothered to come into town that you know of, and most people rarely had time or interest in venturing so far away, so no one you knew had actually seen them in person.

“Oh yes, it’s some ridiculous new religion of some sort that worships turtles in the mountains, from what I understand,” she explained, waving a hand in front of her face to emphasize how indifferent she felt about the group. “I have to say, it’s all terribly confusing and I don’t see why he was so taken with it.”

“Oh, I… I’m very sorry,” you responded, more out of politeness than anything. If he ran away, why was Mary sent to get him, of all people? What about the rest of the family? Mary seemed determined, but you hadn’t actually seen her do anything to look for her brother. Was there no one better suited for the job? “Did he say anything to you before he left? About why he was joining?”

She sighed and stood from the rocking chair to pace over to the porch railing, leaving the chair rocking lightly in her wake. She leaned on the rail and gazed further into the horizon. “Oh, he blames my father for it, of course,” she explained in exasperation, again waving her hand in front of her as if to brush away the very notion. “The man can be overbearing, yes, but I know he only wants what’s best for us. I just hope Jamie will see that soon.”

“I’m... sure he will,” you honestly didn’t know what else to say in the situation. Mary looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, so was Jamie not also an adult? Was he not allowed to make his own decisions? To live his own life? If that was the case, you honestly wouldn’t blame him for running away.

Before you could let the silence become awkward, Mary continued, “If not, well, I’ve seen some old acquaintances around town. My childhood love, before Barry, used to run with a rather rough crowd of outlaws and... degenerates, so I suppose I may be able to ask them for help if it comes to it.” Seemingly eager to change the subject, she turned to face you, leaning against the porch railing and holding her coffee in both hands. “In the meantime, may I ask you something as well? If it’s not too personal?”

You paused before answering and glanced at Ben. He was still chasing the poor cat around the yard. “Sure, I suppose. If it’s not too personal…” You leaned against the wall, took the last sip of coffee in your cup and looked at her, awaiting her question.

Mary had also glanced back to Ben before continuing, leaning slightly in your direction. “Your husband? Ben's father, I mean. If I can ask, where is he?” she asked, quietly, in case Ben should not hear.

That was a surprising relief. Yes, you missed Andrew, and yes it still hurt to think about losing him, but you never would hide what happened or how much you had loved him. “Oh. He…he passed shortly after Ben was born. It was a bad flu that took a turn for the worse all of a sudden. We got some medicine, thought he was getting better and then… and then he was gone. Overnight,” you revealed, unable to look in her eyes as you spoke. The pity that always overcame people when you spoke about Andrew was sometimes too much to bear. You swallowed and took a deep breath, burying the lump that inevitably formed in your throat each time you had to retell the story.

Mary quickly moved from the railing and sat back in her chair, reaching for your hand. “Oh my, I am so sorry! That must have been awful,” she replied. You allowed her to grasp your free hand, still refusing to look into her eyes.

You had heard the same rehearsed response hundreds of times - from friends, family, neighbors. Everyone had been curious at first, after his passing. People you had barely known came by, more out of curiosity than care, and had quickly offered you their well-wishes before digging for the gossip. They almost always left feeling disappointed and guilty. This type of death, suddenly from a common illness, was not uncommon in this area, and left very little to be gossiped about.

You cleared your throat and turned your focus toward Ben, wanting something to distract you from the conversation that you had had so many times before. “It was. It still is, actually, but... I think you get used to carrying it with you after a while,” you explained, a bittersweet smile gracing your features. Outside in the yard, Ben had finally caught the cat and had wrestled it into his lap. Sensing the futility of trying to escape, it had given in and was now purring as he stroked its fur and whispered to it. “But… he gave me almost five amazing years, and he gave me Ben, and I… I honestly couldn’t ask for more.”

If you had looked, you would have seen Mary sporting the same bittersweet, longing smile that you wore. “Ben is a wonderful boy, I’m sure your husband would be proud,” she responded, her voice quieter and sadder than most peoples’ usually are at this point in the conversation.

“Thank you, I think so too.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, both of your coffee cups emptied, and the bubbles from the washbasin having slowly receded into the grimy water. The birds chirped in the crisp spring air and a few clouds drifted by overhead. A light breeze came in from the West, making your skirts sway lightly as you sat on the porch. It was nice, peaceful.

After a few minutes of contented silence, Mary spoke, “My husband also passed away a few years ago. Pneumonia,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. “Even before that I lost my first love, but in a very different way. And now I may have gone and lost Jamie too. It’s… it’s never easy, and I wish no one had to suffer like that.”

“No one deserves to,” you agreed solemnly, surprised by your companion’s revelation. It was strange to have something in common with Mary Linton, but you wouldn’t complain. It was nice to have someone who understood.

Once again, silence overtook the two of you, as you sat on the porch and lost yourselves in memories. The peaceful morning bled slowly into the early afternoon, the birdsongs fading away, the sun shining high in the sky. Ben had long since lost track of the cat and was laying on his back in the grass, making pictures out of clouds. After a while, Mary opened up her book and began to read silently, rocking back and forth in the chair, and you returned to the laundry.

Only a few hours later, you stood in clean clothes in the back of Saint’s Hotel, getting a necessary breath of fresh air and listening closely for any new customers. In the last hour, you had already cleaned the upstairs rooms, readying any empty ones for new patrons. Unfortunately, this task also included cleaning the room of Mr. Presley in 2A, which the other women refused to touch unless specifically told to do so. After a thorough scrubbing and airing out, you had managed to get most of the stink from the room for the time being, but you dreaded the day he left. Room 2A may never again be suited for a new patron once the poor man moves out.

You stood, taking in deep breaths of the fresh country air, until you heard the front door of the hotel open and close. A few words were exchanged between your boss and a new patron, before your name was called. “Please fill a hot bath! Our customer will be in his room until it’s ready.”

With a sigh, you heaved yourself off the stack of logs you had been leaning against and went to fetch a pail of water from the well. The water was ice cold from the mountain runoff, and would surely take some time to heat, so you went ahead and started the coals in the bath room as soon as you were back inside.

After a half an hour of trudging back and forth with pails of water - one of your least favorite parts of the job - you called to your boss to tell him the bath was ready. A pair of freshly laundered towels and a bar of soap on a chair in the room finished the job, and you headed outside to take a quick break.

As was custom, you were to listen for the patron to enter the bath room, wait about 5 minutes for them to undress, and then knock on the door and offer your services.

Valentine, being a livestock and trade town, rarely had families or women passing through for baths, so rest assured you were usually invited by the lonely men in without hesitation. By and large, the men were respectful, if a little flirtatious, and never tried anything uncouth. Of course, occasionally men would come in drunk, or were just plain bastards sober, and that would lead you to deny your devices and call for your boss to toss them out. Thankfully, your boss never batted an eye when you brought him in to sort things out - possibly out of respect for his long-standing employees, but more likely because there was no other hotel in town and he already had their money. Regardless, you were grateful that he looked after you, even if his motivations may have been somewhat questionable.

You heard the bath room door squeak as it shut and began your countdown, digging out any dirt from under your nails just in case you were needed. After about five minutes had passed, you squared your shoulders and knocked lightly on the door. “Need any help in there?”

Immediately, the response came, and the voice was unexpectedly familiar. “Shoa, why not?”

You tried your best to hide the surprised smile on your face, and pushed the door slowly open. The room was dimmed, curtains closed and lit by only a few candles, and smelled strongly of soap and lavender. Even through the dim light and the fog from the hot bathwater, you recognized the handsome face of the man who sat, naked, in the tub before you. “Well hello again, Mountain Man,” you said with a smirk, rolling up your sleeves.

At first, he seemed shocked, but quickly let out one of those loud barks of a laugh as he had done at your previous meetings. “Ha! I just can’t seem to shake you, can I?”

With a friendly smile, you moved to sit on the stool next to the tub. “Seems so,” you responded, reaching into the soapy water to wet your hands. A slight nervous lump formed in your throat as you looked him over. Each time you saw him, he’d somehow become more and more handsome. Granted, the first time, you were exhausted and were in a dimly lit saloon, the second time he was covered in mud, and now… now he was stark naked and dripping wet in a bathtub, directly in front of you.

Your perception may have been slightly biased.

Arthur cleared his throat, making you jump. Had you been staring? “Didn’t know you worked here,” he teased, looking you directly in the eye. He really had to stop doing that. “May have to stop by more often.” He tore his eyes away from yours and then drew them obviously up and down your body as he spoke, stopping momentarily on your cleavage, which was peeking out through the top of your blouse.

A blush crept to your face, and you were immediately thankful that the room was not well-lit. He could stop by every day for free if he kept looking at you like that. Of course, you couldn’t say that out loud, your boss would kill you. Instead, you chuckled and said, “Please do, I can use the extra cash.”

Not missing a beat, Arthur responded with a smirk, “Thought you was expensive?”

Cute. You let out a small chuckle and reached for the bar of soap at the edge of the tub. “Too expensive, I suppose. Or maybe I’m just too choosy,” you managed with a wink, before turning him away from you so you could wash the top of his head. Finally, those eyes weren’t on you and you could actually think again.

He groaned lightly as you massaged soap into his hair. “So that’s why you've been runnin’ off on me?”

That earned him an earnest laugh. “Running off? Oh, please! You’re easily one of the better men that’s come through this town in a long time,” you told him, lightly smacking the top of his head before moving down to his shoulders. His muscular, broad, tanned, perfect shoulders. “Especially that Tommy…” you continued, having heard about his fight with the man after you had left the bar the other night.

“I guess you heard about that?” he chucked awkwardly, tilting his head back slightly to look up at you.

Another laugh. He was obviously not from a small town, otherwise he would know exactly how fast gossip can travel. Not to mention that Tommy was completely black and blue, and ranting about some drunken bastard the next time you had seen him in town. “‘Course I heard! Maybe 100 people live in this town and half of them were in the Saloon the other night,” you chided, still massaging his shoulders. “You can’t keep a secret for long around here, Mountain Man.”

He laughed again, that barking laugh that started in his belly and made him throw his head back with a smile. You liked it. “Obviously,” he grinned up at you for a second before turning away. “Though, if I’m one of the best ‘round here, I’d hate to see the other bastards that pass through.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused. Was that a joke? Sure, he seemed a bit rough around the edges, but no more than the other men who usually passed through here. And you wouldn’t even begin to start on how much more attractive he was than the rest of them.

Regardless, you decided to try your best to change the subject, it seems to have been a bit of a sore spot for some reason. “It’s not all that many, to be honest,” you told him, moving to wash his left arm. The muscles lightly twitched under your touch, and you couldn’t help relishing the feel of his skin under your fingers. “Occasionally we get some groups of men from out in New Austin or near Strawberry looking for work, I guess that’s where you’re coming from?”

He cleared his throat. “Shoa,” he confirmed, still looking away from you. “We was workin’ at a factory ‘n it was shut down. Lookin’ for something new now. Didn’t wanna come this far east, but there ain’t many options anymore.”

You nodded in understanding. Plenty of factories up north had recently shut down, or replaced their workers with newfangled machines. “I hear that Cornwall Tar is hiring,” you mentioned, only half joking. Cornwall was a notoriously awful boss, who underpaid and overworked his employees as much as possible, but a job was a job. “If you’re willing to work for below average and ungodly hours.”

Another loud, barking laugh. You were growing rather fond of it. “Low pay and high hours I can handle,” he responded, finally turning his head to look at you again, “just not for Cornwall.”

“Got a history?” you joked, not at all expecting a serious answer. Everyone knew about Cornwall’s awful business. No one actually wanted to work for him, even without a history.

“Somethin’ like that,” came Arthur’s mumbled response, surprising you. So he actually did know Cornwall? Maybe the man had owned the factory Arthur used to work at? “In the meantime we’re gettin by with the occasional bounty and whatever other labor we can find.”

“We? You and your two friends from the saloon, right?” you asked, dipping your hands in the water to gather more suds. Just a few inches closer and you would be able to feel his chest. Somehow, you managed to resist the urge, and proceeded to wash his calf, which honestly may have been just as nice.

“Yeah, there are a few more of us around too,” he explained, shifting position in the tub and causing the water to splash about slightly. He leaned his head against the back rim and groaned as you massaged his aching muscles. “They’re my… co-workers.Though really they’re almost family at this point.”

“You didn’t part ways when the factory shut down?” It was an innocent enough question. You’ve had groups of laid-off workers come through before, though usually by the time they had hit Valentine the group was at about a quarter its original size. People found other jobs along the way. People got sick. People just left. That’s how it went.

“Nah, we’ve been workin together too long to give up on each other now. Loyalty’s always been important to us. Course, we lost a few along the way, but that’s the way it is I s’pose,” he continued. It was interesting to say the least. You had seen about twenty or so new faces in the past week, all coming from the direction of Emerald Ranch. If that were his group, that would be a surprising amount of people who’ve stayed together.

Suddenly, something Mary had mentioned that morning came back to you: she had seen some acquaintances of her ex-love around town. It couldn’t possibly be the same group of people, that would mean that Arthur rode with a bad crowd, as she had described. You glanced him up and down again. He had his head leaned back, eyes closed, and hair dripping on the wooden floor below. At that moment he looked serene, peaceful. Definitely not the kind of man who ran with a gang of outlaws and degenerates, as she had described.

After a few more moments of silence, Arthur opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, contemplative. “‘n what keeps a woman like you in Valentine? Seems like somewhere else might have more to offer,” he finally asked.

You chuckled, having been asking the same question yourself since Andrew had died. “Oh most definitely,” was your response. “But this is where my husband grew up and where my son was born. I’ve been here long enough that Ben and I know everyone in town and, well, it’s been hard to leave. Been thinkin about it for a while, but I can’t bear to part with it. As dirty and backwards as this place may be.”

This seemed to peak his interest. He sat up straighter in the tub and brought his leg back in to soak. “Your husband, right. That the boah’s pa?” he asked, looking at you and lifting his other arm out of the water - your cue to move to the other side of the tub.

You feigned offense at his question, but didn’t blame him. It’s not like Andrew was around to introduce himself. “Of course! What kind of woman do you take me for, Mountain Man?” you teased, flicking a few droplets of the cooling water into his face.

As a reflex, one of his large hands came up to shield his face from your attack. “Hey!” he shouted through a laugh. “Now, that’s not what I meant! I just seen you at the cemetery after your boah said you was going to visit his pa. Didn’t want to assume.” His laughter had died down by the end of the sentence as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

You looked at your feet, having dragged the stool to the other side of the bath and sat down. Under normal circumstances, you would let the conversation die there. No need to continue, no need for explanations. But, for some reason, with Arthur, a man who is essentially a stranger, you wanted to let him know. “Oh. Well, yeah, that was his pa,” you began, reaching into the water and gathering some of the remaining suds to begin washing his other arm. “He passed a few years ago. He got pretty sick for a week or so, and then right when we thought he was getting better he was just… gone. All of a sudden. It…” you took a breath to steady yourself before you continued. “It was right after Ben was born, actually. Poor kid doesn’t even remember him.”

Arthur cleared his throat and looked away from you. “I’m real sorry. Shouldn’ve brought it up.”

You wish he hadn’t. You wish he could have just stayed flirty and playful. You wish he hadn’t unintentionally brought your mood down. It wasn’t his fault, but you still wished it hadn’t happened. “It’s fine,” you told him, quietly. “You didn’t know.”

You didn’t know how to continue. There was no way you could think of to cut through the awkward silence that followed. So, you finished up his bath with practiced efficiency, no longer taking the time to inwardly fawn over his muscled arms and calves. It only took a few more minutes until you had finished up - a lot sooner than you would have preferred under other circumstances. “Well, that should do it then,” you said quietly, clearing your throat and wiping your wet hands on your skirt. “You’re squeaky clean, Mountain Man.”

He coughed out a short, “Thanks,” as you stood to leave the room.

As soon as the door creaked shut, you practically ran out the back door, desperately in need of fresh air. You heaved yourself up to sit on top of the small stack of logs at the back of the house, wishing you had a drink as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. It was strange, really, talking about Andrew with him. You had talked with people about your late husband hundreds of times, and it always made you sad, but this time was different. It made you feel so overwhelmed and, somehow, raw. Talking to Arthur, a man you hardly knew, about your husband, confirming that Andrew was gone, it seemed wrong and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

Maybe you were just tired? Maybe it was because, between Arthur and Mary, you had talked about him more today than usual? Maybe you could see yourself beginning to move on, and you felt guilty?

After a good amount of time had passed, when you were certain Arthur had left the bath and gone up to his room, you re-entered the hotel and made your way back into the bath room to clean up. Even after nearly a half an hour, the scent of soap and lavender hung thick in the air. You quickly opened the curtains and the windows to air out the humid room and let in the afternoon sunlight.

As soon as the light filtered in the room, highlighting the wisps of steam still hanging about, you noticed a folded piece of paper sitting on the stool by the tub. Gingerly, you picked it up and ran your fingers over the handwritten letters on the front. Your name. Upon unfolding it, ten dollars fell to the floor, and you saw a drawing of a small daisy in the upper right hand corner of the paper.

Below the daisy was a note, beginning with your name.

I’m real sorry about bringing up your husband. I know losing someone you love never really goes away, and I can see that talking about him hurt. Can’t really make up for that, but I hope a nice dinner from the saloon today for you and the boy will help out just a little.

Thank you for the best cleaning I’ve had in years. I hope we can really meet for a drink sometime.

Yours, Arthur

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x reader #f!reader #arthur morgan x f!reader

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sanktagenyas · 4 years ago

Text

ok so i finally watched those last three episodes. i said buckle up it’s time to suffer and by the saints did i ever suffer. i just knew the darklina scenes were gonna be rough to watch. it was already rough reading the scenes as they were written in book one. i mean the darkling just shines with his intelligence in that chapter, doesn’t he? threaten the man she loves? well the other man she loves? check! tell her she betrayed you when the reality is you’ve been telling half truths all along and didn’t trust her to make her choices? check!

buddy this isn’t how you apologize. in the show itself it’s pretty much the same back and forth that leads nowhere. you lied to me! you ran off because my mother told you i’m not who i say i am without giving me a chance to explain! you’ve been lying or bending the truth since we met! YOU TURNED YOUR BACK ON YOUR COUNTRY!

by that point i was just like chill the fuck out man you’re about to decimate many many countrymen and you know it. i loved that the stop they made was all about him getting revenge on the man who attempted on alina’s life, that was very unhinged of him and i was HERE for that shit but everyone else in that port? every other woman and child and man on that port? not all of them played a hand and he just went ahead and had them slaughtered without batting an eye. and it’s not like he has some kind of safeguard for grishas does he? how does he know there’s no grisha wherever he’s expanding the fold? some could be in hiding because they fled, because they didn’t want to serve the king. oh well he doesn’t really care about those people does he? we all saw how he spoke about those deserters to arken.

also he could NOT handle alina’s harsh truths about how his own actions are harming grisha close to him even though he claims that every choice he’s made was to protect them and empower them. when she brought up genya i was like yes you better look down you motherfucker! you did this to her, you delivered to her abuser over and over.

we saw his backstory, some of it and he acted out of grief and rage. he toyed with magic he did not understand and of course he didn’t intend this but his reaction to the fold once it was all said and done was definitely foreshadowing what he was to become. i created something he said defiantly. you created something you don’t have control over. and now he’s done it again somehow, he’s got brand new creatures following him at the end.

i actually felt for young aleksander for losing the woman he loved but the arrogance and the recklessness he showed there is still the same arrogance he has now. he thinks he has thought his plan through but that’s just working off the assumption that no one opposes him ever otherwise he went ahead and put a target on grisha’s backs. he definitely put a target on alina’s back although i know that was never the plan. the fact that when he has a perfectly good remedy to the fold, a chance to actually fix his mistakes once and for all he turns its back and decides to make it ten times worse, chooses ruling via fear over hope is jusr a sign of how far he’s gone. and he didn’t waver once not even when alina was pleading with him that he could have made her his equal, that they could have stayed together and made ravka safe together if only he gave her a choice, he was still manipulative and lied to her face.

at this point i just don’t think his love for her outweighs his belief that he knows what’s best for ravka, what’s the best way to protect grisha. because he doesn’t care about anyone who isn’t grisha at all. he was persecuted like so many others. he won a war for a king centuries and that king turned on him. i’m sure he’s looking at the current one knowing that once grisha have exhausted their uses that king will turn on him too. the fold is just a different kind of war and if he wins that one for the king the darkling already knows what the outcome will be.

so to summarize this whole darkling commentary here i understand where he is coming from, i understand the fear and the rage and the desperation. it’s not working out for him though. he’s feared but he’s alone. for every ivan there’s a zoya. for every man who’s blindly loyal to him there’ll be someone rising up to oppose him eventually. and if it’s not his own people it’ll be non grisha folks. he has the second army working for him still, but he is alone. and that’s no one’s fault but his own because alina was willing to work with him.

speaking of alina i loved every second of her rising up to oppose him telling him she never needed him. she may have fallen in love with him but she never actually needed him to be powerful, she only needed to free herself of the restraints she’d put on her powers out of fear. i also thought that the way she freed herself of his control made more sense than it did in the books.

i have hope for darklina still despite all that’s happened despite how positively full of rage ans resentment she is because she still loves him, she still listened when he pleaded with her that they needed each other if they wanted to deal with the fold. of course there’s the slight issue of him lying directly and manipulating her to do his bidding and of course the fact that he took her power from her. the only thing that was her and he perverted it for his own gain. i think it just might take more than a year for her to forgive him i’m afraid. i don’t necessarily see a path to redemption right now but reconciliation? alina can be merciful, she can be forgiving. i think all it would really take is just one selfless act, one show of good faith. if he keeps pursuing her and mal and keep trying to rob her of her agency however i don’t see them ever having any kind of closure.

i don’t think i need to expand much more on my thoughts on malina. i’m not feeling what the show wants me to feel. i’m not seeing them as these soulmates that belong together. to me they’d be better of as best friends. the darkling didn’t make her strong he tried to steal her strength for his own use but mal doesn’t make her strong either, she relies too much on him. mal actually was pretty damn resourceful when left on his own. i unfortunately couldn’t say the same for alina. co-dependant love is not better than toxic love and darklina’s toxicity (most of it) comes from the lies and from the darkling repeatedly choosing for alina. he’s not brave enough to just tell her what he intends to do and let her decide whether to align herself with him so he lies and he deceives instead. not much he can do to undo it now but he could help actually destroy the fold if he wanted to. i don’t know if he’ll ever come around to it though.

the darkling visiting mal with the sole purpose to rub it in his face that alina and he are immortal and so eventually mal will die and then he could just swoop in was just peak comedy. the way he delivered that line too you’d think he was talking to an insect not another human being. it was brilliant. mal echoing that same line but ending it with “the past will do it for me” was pretty good, nice quip i’ll give mal that but also terribly ironic when you see the ending.

team crows remains the highlight for me. kaz and inej and their unspoken love for each other is just killing me. i can tell there are personal traumas there that i don’t know about (gotta read those damn books and quick) what with kaz not being able to help tend to her wounds and the fact that there were moments were i could see there was maybe a kiss about to happen or an embrace (at the end when kaz let alina go free and made a deal not to rat her out) and it just didn’t happen. there’s a story there about kaz and his distaste for being touched/touching others. jesper is just here to look pretty, shoot shit and be the most charming person in any crowd. i’m in love. also someone give him his goat back for the love of god.

nina and mathias were entertaining for sure. with all that banter and all these jabs i should have really seen them falling for one another coming. i felt like it was perhaps a bit rushed but i guess there’s nothing like almost freezing to death together to make you reconsider your views. you know the whole saving of lives thing can really bond you. the waffle date was adorable. was not expecting nina to just brand herself a traitor for him and she’s damn lucky fyedor came on that mission because i’m pretty sure ivan wouldn’t even have offered to keep her name out of the report. she and mathias ended their story both heartbroken and separated. i really hate that he thinks this was all intentional. really hope she’ll join the crows on their next con job. and i also cannot wait to see the look on heleen’s face when kaz buys inej’s freedom.

i was not at all expecting zoya to turn against the darkling. that’s what happens when you turned down one of your fuck buddies, aleksander they get bitter and then they leave you to be eaten alive by volcras. ok but in all seriousness she did the right thing and i hope she finds her family even if they’re not alive so she can say her goodbyes.

oh and completely unrelated but since i talked about heights of comedy before i really need more sassy! darkling in my life. he is everything. that quip about his speech. the way he said adorable like he was gagging on the word. him just letting david be his dorkiest self and raise his hand before speaking, that little put upon sigh. i love sassy! darkling almost as much as jealous and petty darkling which is saying a lot. just more of that. it humanizes him, i’m tired of villains who are forever stoic and stone face.

i think i about covered everyone and everything that happened in those remaining episodes. all in all shadow and bone is an amazing adaptation, really faithful to the first book. they made some changes to the characters which in turn changed some dynamics (alina actually admitted she wanted to be with the darkling. out loud. to his face. book!alina would never and book!darkling would never cry in front of her.) but it made for surprising viewing. it also made me become even more attached to some characters (the darkling let’s be real) which made me care more which is why i was livid when they started making a lot of terrible no good choices.

i was just really blown away by this show and the way the grishaverse was brought to life and above all major props to the actors who all just seemed to be born to play their respective roles.

#shadow and bone spoilers #sab spoilers #darklina #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #inej ghafa #nina zenik #mathias helvar #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #zoya nazyalensky

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cibeewastaken · 5 years ago

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run-on sentences

loosely inspired by this beautiful art by @pan-da-hero

on ao3

----

Draco loves to write.

Not fictions, as much as he likes reading, he has no interest in creating new worlds or people and makes them do things that he has to think up. He loves to write – about himself. Because even at the stage of innocence, Draco always thought he is the most interesting person there are.

From age ten, he filled journals and journals. Diary, of sorts. Besides recording his (very interesting) life, a lot of them were fragments of musings. Some of them were letters, especially after starting school. Students at the Slytherins common rooms were used to seeing Draco sitting by the fire, by the window, at his desk, on his bed; ornate leather journal and quill in hand. And Draco’s furious hysterics if he were to be interrupted were almost as legendary as his Harry Potter tirade.

He writes as a child, as a teenager, as an adult (only in the legal sense) then as a man. His page span from thick, traditional journal to loose parchments bound together to cheap muggle paper notebooks. His handwriting went from carefully constructed individual letters to arrogant cursive to frantic scribbles – so illegible and so obviously written in the dark; finally, to smooth and soft curves; reveries about boys and healing.

Draco writes until he’s twenty-seven, ten years out of the war, with old enemies turned new friends and old friends turned family and family turned ghosts surrounding him when someone asks if they could see his works?

What works, Draco asks.

Apparently, this agent is friend with Blaise and he has raved about Draco’s bel-esprit, how interesting his perspective was on the war, the struggles he went through to overcome his beliefs, what a romantic he secretly is –

Draco sends a stinging hex to Blaise who is lurking somewhere in the crowd and tells the agent no.

It is Ginevra who gets him to change his mind, as always. She wants kids, and she says Draco telling his side and how he changed is valuable for their world to see what to look out for. Plus some ridiculous sentiment about inherent goodness that Draco has no intention to remember but gets convinced anyway.

He has to dig out his journals. He still writes, about whatever he fancies, but the old ones were left in his childhood bedroom in places he frequented as a child but no longer remembers now. An Accio has all of them flying out of a loose floorboard that Draco only then remembers he pried loose himself because that’s where people hide things in books.

Reading through them is shameful. Reading through them with the agent is embarrassing, but her eyes lit up frequently and her nose sometimes scrunches in distaste, then she just keeps crying, after the first five years of journals. She asks if he wants to organize them in chronological order, or —?

That’s a loaded question. Draco doesn’t know. There are diaries, notes, ideas, thoughts, letters. The agent sifts through everything and decides that the diaries can be in chronological order, in their own section. And everything else they will go through and divide them into sections.

Draco squeaks when he realizes she wants to publish everything and argues that no one wants to read a behemoth of a book. She says a behemoth of memories is a good thing.

Draco isn’t sure anyone will read it. Who will want to read a brat’s diary? Who wants to read a Death Eater (he was still one when some of these were written)’s thoughts?

But people do. They line up outside of shops. Owls tire themselves from deliveries. On request of Pansy, who sees this as golden opportunity to make some pretty gold, pesters Draco for stocks of his book and sell them to people who didn’t manage to get one on the first day.

All of this disconcerts Draco, who once upon of time would no doubt love this. Though, as much as he loves to talk even now, these were the talkings that he hadn’t been brave enough to say. He has thought no one would be interested, now the reality is that everyone knows.

Draco writes all of this down.

He asks for time off work.

Harry comes knocking, just a few days later. Draco knows it’s coming, still he trembles when he goes to greet him at the door. Harry hasn’t finished reading the book yet, can he finish the rest here? Draco nods, let Harry sits on his bed as Draco takes his seat at the desk. Harry opens the book, and Draco knows where he’s at by the thickness of the two halves. The diaries are done and he is on the miscellany. Draco turns. Harry’s face gives nothing away but Draco knows, he knows, Harry is reading the section titled “Love Letters”.

“Love Letters” starts with a short note, written by Draco five years of age, to a boy he met at a gathering his father used to have. “Love Letters” isn’t typed but had images of the original letters (done by Scan-ing, or something). “Love Letters” consists of notes and origamis addressed to a variety of people: Blaise, Remus Lupin, Penelope Clearwater, some Quidditch star Draco can’t even remember the name of except for the way the man’s brown eyes honeyed under the sun. These love letters comprised less than half of “Love Letters”. “Love Letters” is originally named “Draco Malfoy’s embarrassing crush on Harry Potter (Potter!)”

Draco used up his only veto for that.

Most of them don’t even read like someone in love. Most of them read like hate mails, bullying and sniping. But Draco is the one that wrote them and he knows what they had meant. A lot of them were heavily creased, because they were folded into origami animals. When Draco first found them, he had to be so careful opening up, old from the years, they wouldn’t have survived rough treatment. There are a smattering of letters written when Draco was thirteen and fourteen where he expressed genuine heartache that he wasn’t friends with Harry; an explosion of anguish, written when Draco was sixteen and seventeen; then finally, eighteen, cluster of letters, slow and sweet, like fruits overly ripe. Accounts of Harry’s struggles and victories after the war. (One letter embarrassingly detailed the shape of Harry’s chiseled jawline in far too many words). There’s one where Draco spent a full parchment talking to Harry about his sudden aptitude in schoolwork and how much Draco likes it because he has always appreciated intelligence in men. Draco had written those like the letters were meant to be seen by a lover. But he never did, even though Harry and he had been friendly by then already.

The fact that the book omitted any names doesn’t matter because the author is Draco and he practically founded the Potter-mania. Plus most of the letters mentioned green eyes and long lashes.

But Harry doesn’t seem upset at being written into letters then into a book that got published for the whole wizarding world to see. Ten years has mellowed the public’s affection for Harry into a simmering haze; something Draco can’t comprehend whatsoever.

Harry shuts the book gently and asks if he could see them. Draco has to pretend he doesn’t know what Harry is asking about. Then he lies and says they’re at the publishing house. Harry tells him that Draco would never leave something so personal at places like that, if he has to guess, is it somewhere beneath the floorboard based on Draco’s love for old romance novels?

Draco protests and grumbles and goes to pry the floorboard up, but Harry stops him before his nails make contact with the wood. Harry delicately grasps Draco’s hands and murmurs let me and before Draco can even blink his haze away, his journals, notes, and letters are in Harry’s reverent hands. He picks out the crumble letters that show it has been folded and unfolded until it’s bruised and loved. He traces the “P” of every letter, always the first, and always written with the most vigor.

I noticed these, Harry says.

Draco doesn’t understand what that means.

You used to fold them in class, Harry says. I noticed.

Then he grabs his copy of Draco’s book and takes something out – a piece of parchment that has been folded and unfolded until it’s bruised and loved. Harry holds it out.

It’s Harry. On a broom, smiling until a bulger hits him. Draco’s eyes seek out the messy hair that a thirteen-year-old Draco had drawn on one strand at a time, tenderly despite the end product. And the arrogant cursive of his sighed name in the corner. And the little lone figure in the otherwise empty Quidditch stands, laughing and looking at Drawing-Harry.

Draco says this is embarrassing. Harry laughs and tells him it’s okay. Draco then scoffs and clarifies it’s embarrassing for Harry, who keeps a drawing of themselves getting hit in the head? Then Harry is kissing him, cradling him in his arms like he did the parchment, which is surprising because Draco has been folded and unfolded until he is bruised, but he never thinks he can be loved, too.

Against Draco’s lips, Harry says he wants to finish Draco’s embarrassing book. He wants to know if there’s a happy ending.

Draco spoils his own book by telling Harry there isn’t. The book only goes until he was twenty-five-years old. Which wasn’t a bad year, just a difficult year. Draco folds himself up so he can fit in Harry’s embrace better and tells him it’s okay.

Harry sounds genuinely upset when he says how can it be okay?

Draco kisses Harry, and again, and again, until his lips are sore and flushed and Harry looks a little less sad. Draco kisses him quicky again because — well, just because. Because the book ends, but it’s not the ending, Draco says.

Harry asks how will it end. Draco shrugs and says he doesn’t know.

Harry says his fine petulantly and wraps Draco tighter in his arms. He opens Draco’s book again and presses his cheek to Draco’s hair when Draco tucks his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry kisses Draco’s hair and says, I guess I’ll just have to stick around and find out.

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #hp #darry #my fic #harry x draco #draco X harry

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frunbuns · 4 years ago

Text

No Use Crying Over Spilled Nail Polish

Allison helps Five. They bond. That’s basically it.

Read on Ao3

Allison sighs. Some of her nail polish has vanished. Vanished might not be the correct word though, because Allison is fairly certain she knows where it's gone. Doesn't make it any less frustrating though.

If Klaus wants to paint his nails he could just come and ask her. She can even paint his nails and he can paint hers. But Klaus always has had sticky fingers. She's not terribly surprised.

"Klaus!"

She marches out of her room, towards Klaus', a scolding on her lips. Except, when she opens the door the room is empty. There's no trace of her nail polish either.

Klaus could be anywhere. The Academy is massive and it'd take her hours to search the whole premise. Just because they weren’t allowed in certain places didn’t mean Klaus wouldn’t go there. In fact, he’d definitely go there if he wasn’t allowed. Five and Klaus seems to love breaking the rules. They’d racked up more punishments to cover all seven of them three times over.

(Allsion has never understood why they do it. Dad’s punishments can be rough and it’s definitely not something you want.)

Even if the Academy is massive, Allison does not give up that easily. She’ll find the nail polish. It’s hers after all. One of the few things that are really her own. Which is why she finds herself stomping up the stairs.

"Klaus?" she calls out, but receives no answer.

Allison huffs to herself, rolling her eyes. She really does not have the patience for this today.

"Klaus?"

She walks down the hallway, quickly peering into each room as she passes. Somehow they're all empty, even though ten people live in the building.

And then she sees a tuft of dark hair.

"Klaus! I swear to—"

Except, it isn't Klaus. It's Five.

"Sorry, I thought you were—"

He’s slumped against the wall, looking half-asleep as his legs slowly shuffle down the hallway. There’s a thin sheen of sweat coating his pale, ashy face. His bangs are slick against his forehead. Five looks, for lack of a better word, sickly. Allison would almost say he looks dead. But that can’t be the case because she wouldn’t be able to see him, and while dad pushed them in their training, he surely wouldn’t kill them. Right? He wouldn’t do that. He needs them.

She recalls that it’s Five’s personal training day. He had been whisked away after breakfast that morning by dad and Pogo. They hadn’t seen him at dinner. Ben and Vanya had eyed his empty chair through the whole meal. It had been impossible to ignore the missing occupant.

(Why Five is friends with Ben and Vanya Allison doesn’t quite understand. Five is arrogant and smart and he never misses an opportunity to rub it in their faces. He thinks he’s better than everyone and talks back to dad. Vanya and Ben are very much not like that at all. They’re quiet and timid. Really, they shouldn’t be friends, yet here they are.)

"Are you...are you okay?" she asks him.

"I-I'm fine—"

He looks anything but fine. In fact, he looks like he's about to fall apart. Right in front of her.

"You're shaking."

Five's legs seem to be trembling with the effort of holding him upright. Even his arms shake as he uses them to support himself against the wall. His jaw remains tightly clenched. Allsion can't recall ever seeing her brother like this before.

Five is never vulnerable. He never lets himself be. Not in front of them at least. He always acts like he’s invincible. Sharp smiles and a smart mouth. Like nothing will get him down. Like nothing will crack him. (And they believe him.)

"What happened? Was it training?" she asks him.

"Passed out," he tries to explain. "All I need is some rest, and maybe some food."

That, at least, explains why he wasn't at dinner.

“Should I get Vanya? Or Ben?” she asks. “You look like you could use some help.”

Predictably, Five shakes his head.

Allison frowns. "Let me help you at least," she says.

She's not sure where her sudden desire to help has come from. Normally everything at the Academy is very 'every man for themself'. They've always had to glue themselves back together alone after training.

That doesn't mean that her and Luther hadn't lent a helping hand every now and then. And she surely hasn't missed how Five tends to reach out to them, in his own, special way, when they've had particularly rough days.

Before Five can protest she grabs his arm and lays it over her shoulder, getting a hold of his torso and slowly walking down the hall. Five leans heavily against her as they shuffle forward, nearly stumbling over his own feet multiple times. She pretends not to hear his quiet whimpering.

The stairs are difficult. Allison curses their father for putting Five’s bedroom so high up as she practically carries his weight up. She doesn’t blame him though, as his whole body trembles violently against hers for each step. He’s taller than her - not by much - but he’s also very skinny and gangly.

“It…” Five gasps softly. “It hurts.”

Allison frowns, swallowing heavily. “We’re almost there,” she tells him, even though they still have a flight of stairs left.

She doesn’t say anything about his tear stained cheeks. Just this once, she tells herself. Just this once she won’t tease and make fun of her siblings. Even though they’re all the same age, Allison can’t help but feel like a big sister. Five might be taller than her, but he’s still Number Five, and she’s Three. And three comes before five.

It feels like an eternity, but they eventually make it to Five’s room. Five flops onto his bed, face first. Allison snorts. She takes off his shoes and pushes him further onto the mattress so he doesn’t fall off.

“You said you needed food, right?” she asks.

For a moment Allison thinks Five might have fallen asleep, but he eventually hums at her.

She looks down at her feet, even though he can’t see her from the way his face is pressed against the covers. “Well, since you missed dinner I’ll go see if mom can make you something.”

She leaves before he can answer her.

- - -

On the way down again Allison hears Klaus chatting happily in a room with an ajar door. She looks in. Klaus is laying on the floor, waving his newly painted toe-nails in the air. On the floor is a tipped-over, green nail polish bottle. Over half the contents has spilled out onto the wooden floor.

Allison wants to scream.

“Klaus!”

Klaus jumps. “Christ on a cracker!”

Allison stomps her foot, her hands curled into fists at her sides. Anger bubbles up in her. “You spilled my nail polish!”

He looks down at the bottle. “Oh...sorry.”

“Are you kidding me?!” she shouts. “Klaus, I swear to god—”

Klaus quickly picks the bottle up, wiping the nail polish off the outside of the bottle with his vest. (Mom surely won’t be happy about that.) He quickly screws the cap on and hands it to Allison, looking mildly apologetic. She takes it from his hand with more force than what was probably necessary and stuffs it in her pocket.

“I hate you,” she says. Klaus stares.

Allison lets out a frustrated noise and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

- - -

Allison walks into Five's room with a plate in her hands ten minutes later. Five is still laying face-down on his bed. The same way as when she had left. She closes the door behind her with a soft click.

"Five?"

She sighs and sets the plate on his nightstand. She shakes him. He groans quietly and slowly turns his head to look at her through bleary eyes.

"I got you food. You better eat it before the bread goes stale."

"Oh," is all he says.

He slowly sits up. He still looks exhausted, but he seems slightly better than before. She places the plate down next to him on the mattress. He picks up the peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich on it and starts eating it. It's disgusting.

Allison grimaces. "How can you eat that?"

Five shrugs lazily.

"Wha' 'appned dow'shtairs?" he asks through a mouthful. He swallows. "Heard you yelling."

Allison sighs and sits down next to him. "It's just…Klaus. He spilled my nail polish."

"Huh," Five says, though he doesn't sound like he cares all that much. "That sucks."

Allison nods, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

Five probably isn’t the best person to confide in. He’s never been good with emotions. Or talking. (There's a reason he never is put in charge when it comes to interviews after all.) But at least he listens.

“I just—” Allison closes her eyes. “I only have a few, and they’re mine. And Klaus keeps going through my stuff.”

“You know how he is. Klaus is Klaus.”

She sighs. “I know.”

She takes the nail polish bottle out of her pocket and inspects it. It’s still usable at least. There’s still about half of it left. Maybe not quite half, but close enough. She doesn’t even like green that much anyway.

In the aftermath of it all, Allison feels foolish for the way she had reacted. Once the anger had deflated. Maybe she was a bit harsh on Klaus. He didn’t mean to spill it.

she unscrews the cap and, without warning, grabs Five’s free hand.

“What are you—”

He watches her with raised brows as she carefully starts painting his nails with the green polish. He doesn’t protest, or tell her to stop. Instead he fixes her with a curious stare as he finishes his sandwich.

It takes two coats to make it look okay, the polish a little opaque. It has sparkles in it. Little flakes that shimmers and glitters in the light. Allison can see why Klaus likes this one. It’s pretty nice.

“I think blue would suit you better,” Allison muses. “Not that green doesn’t fit you, I just don’t think it’s your colour, you know?”

Five looks like he does, in fact, not know.

She snorts. “Give me your other hand.”

- - -

The next few days Allison discreetly keeps an eye on Five. He looks better after food and some sleep. A little sore maybe, but much better than when she’d found him. She can’t help but wonder if it’s a normal occurrence if he bounces back so fast. Allison had never thought she noticed everything, but she likes to think she’s fairly perceptive.

She’ll catch his eye every now and then, and his lips will twitch into what looks like a smile. She’s never sure though. It’s always gone before she has time to acknowledge it.

In a lot of ways, it’s as if nothing’s changed since their little moment that day. It’s almost like it never even happened. But the evidence is there. In the form of green painted fingernails.

When Allison steps into her room she notices something on her bed. a small bottle of nail polish. She picks it up and turns it around in her hand. It’s blue. A dark, navy shade of blue. There aren’t any sparkles in it, but it’s still pretty. Even if it’s some unrecognizable drug store brand polish that chips after just a little while.

Allison doesn’t need to be a genius to know where the nail polish came from. She smiles to herself, clutching the bottle in her hand. She places it on her desk, next to her other polishes.

The smile doesn’t leave her face for the rest of the day.

A few weeks later Five runs out the door and doesn’t come back.

#the umbrella academy #tua #umbrella academy #tua netflix #number five hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #allison hargreeves #fics #my fics #mine

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violet-knox · 5 years ago

Note

Snape realizes his student has PTSD due to a/ flashbacks in class. Does he help her?

Imagine Professor Snape Finding Out About Your PTSD

Word Count: 4970 (~1k - 1.5k per house)

Warnings: Mention of child abuse, feeling of worthlessness

A/N: I think he would act a little differently based on what house his student is in, so I decided to write for each house. They are all the same scenario, just different outcomes. Though I did a bit of copy and paste for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw since we never really got to see Snape interact with them.

This is NOT a Snape x reader because I’m not comfortable with student/teacher relationships outside the professional realm. But it’s still a cute moment with Snape and his student, so I hope you enjoy regardless 😊

Slytherin

- First day of classes was always rough on his students, most unprepared, naive, thinking they could foul around simply because his class, at first glance,seems of a less magical nature. But never his Slytherins. They always cameready for class, and no doubt eventually find themselves at the top of hisclass.

- But you were different. The look on your face was quite baffling to him when hemade his usual beginning of the term speech, always more directed to theGryffindors than his Slytherins whom always perked at his nod towards theirfuture success in his class.

- Your eyes were glossy, and your bottom lip trembled with fear. You were actingas though you’d seen a Basilisk and lived to tell the tale and it only gotworse as the class went on. It wasn’t until he’d instructed his students tobegin brewing that he noticed you looking around the class in search forsomething.

- He was angry. Never had he had a student so unfocused and never had he seen a Slytherin so fragile, so weak. This wouldn’t do. Not this fear youshowed, not those bags under your eyes and certainly not your poor brewingskills.

- In all his years, he’d never witnessed one of his own Slytherins brew such ahorrid concoction. Even Potter’s Potion was in a better state than yours, despitethe fact that it looked like it was laced with poison. At least it appeareddrinkable in comparison to yours.

- He watched as you went to the back of the room and grab the snakeskin off theshelf (almost dropping it) before making your way back to your desk. He didn’teven have to double check the board because he was absolutely certain he’dwritten snake fang not snakeskin. How could it be that you would be socareless, so blind as to not follow such simple instructions?

- Rushing over, he grabbed your arm just as you’d reached into the jar to grabsome of the ingredient the Potion demanded next. “What do you think you’redoing!?” He shouted, eyes practically popping out of his skull with furry.

- Your mouth was open, but no words were coming out. You looked petrified, likehe’d just threatened your life or scolded you for wearing mismatched socks.

- “Speak!” He’d demand and the moment his words seeped into your ears, he felt your weight crumble onto the ground as tears streamed down your face. You felt like you couldn’t breath yet you’d been rapidly inhaling air like it would bethe last you’d ever get. Your body shook and your mind blurred with images ofyour abusive father.

- Professor Snape stood there in absolute shock. In his twelve years of teaching,this was certainly a first. Every student in the class had now stopped brewingand you were continuing to make a scene. He couldn’t leave them unattended and he couldn’t leave you on the floor like this either.

- “Class dismissed!” he bellowed and immediately, most of his students beganpacking their bags.

- “But Sir,” said Malfoy in protest. “What about our potions?” He sounded asthough he’d been inconvenienced, and he wasn’t wrong to feel such a way whenhis potion was near perfection. Now, if only he’d made as much progress as therest of his classmates, perhaps he’d have a viable career in Potions.

- “You should have had enough time by now to finish, so I will assess them based on how far you’ve gotten.” Malfoy’s face turned white and Snape knew he was afraid of receiving a failing grade after spending half the class talking abouthow his father had hired private tutors, to give him a head start in school.“Now, everyone out! I won’t ask again.”

- No one looked back as every student made their way out, the last of the herdshutting the door, leaving you alone in the darkest, most secluded part of thecastle with the one man you’d wish to be as far away from as possible rightnow.

- You could hear the Potion’s Master pull up a chair right in front of you as youtightened your hold on your knees, stuffing your face into your lap, hoping theworld would disappear around you. “Why are you crying?” he asked, voice low but as stern as ever.

- You didn’t budge a muscle and if it weren’t for the high ceilings in this room,creating quite the echo, he would have assumed you hadn’t heard him speak. “Ifyou do not speak, if you do not tell me why you’ve just disrupted my class, howdo you expect me to help you?”

- Nothing. No response, not even a twitch or any sign of recognition. Howdisrespectful. “I’m your Head of House, you must explain yourself to me, andneither of us will be leaving this room until you do.”

- It wasn’t until now that he’d placed a hand on your shoulder, hoping to getyour attention, that he noticed your trembling body. It was like you’d beenfrozen, the nonexistent cold biting into your skin as your body shivered indefense. “Nobody will harm you here Miss. (Y/L/N). It is not only my job as aneducator but also my position as Head of Slytherin that inclines me to be sureof your safety.”

- It took you a solid minute of silence to stop shaking, your tears stillflowing, but your mind had finally begun to clear as your Professor’s wordsechoed through your head. He was nothing like your father. He seemedunderstanding and patient.

- He would watch you in relief as your body finally relaxed and your arms lowered enough for him to peer into your swollen eyes. He waited, knowing fully no words would incline you to stop those tears. You had to speak on your ownterms.

- You weren’t used to the support he’d offered. Then again, you’d never hadanyone to look out for you like this before. It was an odd feeling, wanting totrust him yet push him away at the same time. But, if he meant what he said,then perhaps he’d understand if you opened up to him and that was enough of areason to let your guard down to relax your tense body.

- Slowly, and through broken breaths, you’d tell him about your past and how theslightest incline in another person’s voice triggered old memories. Or thesimple touch of someone’s hands on you, causing you to think the worst.

- He’d apologize and understand your situation, recalling his own childhoodfilled with nothing but neglect and backhanded punishments. Hogwarts wasn’tkind to him either and his own Head of House had done nothing in his favor.He’d sworn the day he took this job he’d be better than his predecessors, thathe’d accomplish the impossible, support his Slytherins and help them rise tothe top. He wasn’t going to let your past get in the way of that because achain was only as strong as its weakest link and if he’d let you fall throughthe cracks, Slytherin would surely crumble with you.

- Your eyes only brightened as the days passed, Professor Snape offering what he could to help with your PTSD, allowing you extra time to carefully copy thenotes off the blackboard before class began, giving you a Calming Draught ifyou asked, silently passing you by during class and never once raising hisvoice with you (even when you’d grabbed a handful of the wrong ingredient,about to cause quite the explosion).

- Your favorite part of school had become your monthly sessions with your Head of House, talking about any troubles you’ve had or simply asking for advice towhich he’d gladly give. He was a good listener, an even better Professor andyou couldn’t be happier in any other house.

Gryffindor

- The arrogance of the Gryffindors never surprised him with each year thatpassed. But this year, this year was different. It was much worse. Naturally,Potter had shown the same disinterest in Potions his father had so bluntlydisplayed during his own Hogwarts days as Snape began the first class of theterms. Most of the first years had lost that enthusiasm they’d spent in Charmsor Defense when coming to the Dungeons in the afternoon and the atmosphere of the class had been as horrid as he’d imagined.

- But he’d never let them get to him before and Potter was nothing special, evenif he shared the same notion of superiority with his forsaken father.

- No, what set him off this year, wasn’t the fact that he had one incrediblyinsufferable uptight Gryffindor to deal with, it was the obvious fact that hehad TWO.

- He began eyeing you after he’d given Potter an earful, watching you shove your face in your arms laying on the desk as if you’d rather be anywhere buthis classroom, as if he’d bored you enough, you thought it appropriate tosimply take a nap.

- “Are we disturbing you Miss. (Y/L/N)?” he barked as he stood beside your desk, towering over you. The sudden increase in the volume of his voice had you jumping back in your seat as you realized the close proximity that separatedyou from him.

- Your eyes began to water as you stared up at the tall man drenched in so muchblack, you felt like it could drown anyone who stood within five feet of him.You couldn’t form words, nor could you move from your spot but somehow, youmanaged to shake your head enough to warrant a response from your Professor.

- “Then perhaps you’d like to answer the questions Potter failed to provide aresponse for.” He spoke smugly, expecting you to fail as Potter had. And justas he thought, not a single word was uttered from your mouth. “No? Very wellthen, detention for the both of you and ten points from Gryffindor fordisturbing my class.. each.”

- Tears leaked down your cheeks, drenching your skirt as you did everything youcould to keep from breaking into a million pieces. Nothing triggered you morethan an overpowering authority figure and his attire, this classroom, weren’thelping in any way.

- He hadn’t made a student of his cry for quite some time, though when he had, it had always been due to one of his miscellaneous threats of poisoning them orthrowing their brewed potions over their heads for dissolving perfectly goodcauldrons.

- The class went on and he’d never seen such a horrendous display of talent inhis class before, even if it was from a Gryffindor. But he kept from speakingas he watched you fall behind all your peers.

- The end of class couldn’t have arrived sooner, and Professor Snape was quick to keep you and Potter behind to further discuss your detention. Naturally, speakof punishment had you shriveling in your spot again, especially when he spokeof forcing you to wander the Forbidden Forest at night to collect herbs andminerals for his personal supplies.

- But it wasn’t until Professor Snape noticed your eyes closed so tight, theycould have been glued shut that he’d realized what he’d done. He couldrecognize signs of PTSD from a mile away and he finally understood.

- Turning to Potter, he ordered him to fetch McGonagall as he made his own way tohis desk, retrieving a small vial of Calming Draught before crouching on theground beside you. He didn’t utter another word, knowing very well there wasnothing he could say to a Gryffindor that would help.

- McGonagall burst through the door not moments later, immediately heading inyour direction. Snape knew when to back off and the last thing he wanted was tomake things worse, so he simply handed the Transfiguration’s Professor the vialof Calming Draught before taking a few steps back. He eyed Potter who appeared to have nothing better to do than to observe the situation. He wanted him gone. Out of his classroom, out of this school, out of his life, but of course, he had to do as ordered and protect the boy who lived.

- It didn’t take long for McGonagall to calm you enough to take the Draught, yourtears drying up as she continued to comfort you. She then instructed Potter toescort you back to her office where she promised to meet you in a few moments.Snape took this time to explain what he’d seen from you in class and share histheory that you suffer from PTSD.

- McGonagall joined you shortly after you arrived at her office, dismissingPotter before offering you a cup of tea to which you silently agreed to. Asyour head finally began to clear, your Professor began speaking to you, askingabout what happened today. You trusted her so it wasn’t hard for you to open upto her, telling her exactly what triggered you in class and why you’d beenreluctant to come attend his class any further.

- Your Head of House made an effort at the end of the day to stop by Snape’soffice, where she discussed everything you’d given her permission to tell himand it really showed during your next class as your Potion’s Professor tookextra care around you. He was a professional after all and if a colleague askedhim to speak calmly with a student or give you that extra ten minutes afterclass, he’d gladly do it.

- Of course, McGonagall’s requests didn’t come without hurt. It burned him totreat a Gryffindor as something special, like he didn’t get enough of that withPotter, but at least you seemed grateful for the lack of threats you wouldreceive from him, contrary to your peers.

- He’d never go beyond what was asked of him and he’d never bring up the subject with you again. In fact, you got the distinct impression that he may have had a gun aimed at his head, forcing him to stay clear of you when lecturing some insolent child on the dangers that come with potion making.

- But you didn’t mind. In contrast with that first day of Potions, the distancehe put between you and himself was a blessing.

Hufflepuff

- He could admit he favoured his own Slytherins at time, but one thinghe’d never dare let slip was his preference of his morning class with theRavenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Those wretched Gryffindors ruined his afternoon and not even the presence of the talented members of his own house could cancel out the stupidity that those higher than life students of his brought.

- The Hufflepuffs were usually humble. Never inclined to break rules (unlikesome). Always paying attention when he spoke (unlike some). And never straying from their task (unlike some).

- He’d asked Dumbledore several times before to let the Gryffindors switch placed with the Ravenclaws so he’d at least have a peaceful afternoon and a semi decent morning. But the old Wizard simply gave him one if his life willchallenge you at every turn and the important thing is… blah blah blah speech.What a loud of-

- “Am I boring you Miss.(Y/L/N)?” Of all his years as a Professor, never had heseen a Hufflepuff so disrespectful on his first day of class before, head hunglow, hunched over with her eyes closed as if she was trying to take a nap.

- You sprung up in your seat to find the intimidating Potions Master standingover you, arms crossed with a grim expression on his face. Your eyes widened as his pierced your own, those sharp black orbs; a portal into the Devil’ssoul.

- You were stunned in your place. It was happening again and there was nothingyou could do to stop it now. You began rapidly blinking as you triedresponding, but no words came out of your mouth, your jaw simply hanging open. Instead, you simply shock your head, but that didn’t seem to satisfy your Professor.

- “Five points from Hufflepuff Miss.(Y/L/N),” he said, turning his back on youand walking back to the front of the room. “Already losing house points whenyou just started at Hogwarts. I expect better.”

- As if the flashbacks you’d been trying to repress the last few minutes weren’tbad enough, you now felt like all eyes were on you. Judging you, annoyed byyour very existence, just like your family.

- The rest of the class did not go as smoothly as he’d hoped. He’d assumedremoving some points would be enough to wake you up, but he was wrong. Ifanything, your attention span had worsened as you’d grab wrong ingredients, stirred your Potion in the wrong direction, completely failing at following thesimplest of instructions.

- He’d had absolutely enough of this foolishness and could no longer tolerate thedisrespect and lack of interest you showed in his class. Sitting at his desk,he quickly wrote up a note to Sprout, explaining the audacity you had to actsuch a way in his classroom before making his way over towards you and roughly grabbing you by the arm.

- You’d had such a hard time focusing when you could feel yourself on the edge of an episode, all those old memories fighting to be heard when all you wanted to do was drench them in gasoline and set them on fire. And you thought youwere starting to get a grip on the toxicity in your mind when you suddenly felta hand harshly lift up your arm.

- Your breath hitched as you felt that familiar ping in your chest. Not again.Looking up, you found Snape staring you down, looking angrier than ever.

- “You’ve wasted my time enough today with your recklessness Miss.(Y/L/N). You will take this note to Sprout and only return to my classroom when you’re ready to give me your full, undivided attention,” he said, speaking so loud that he’d gotten the class’ full, undivided attention. “Do I make myself clear?”

- You wanted to move, but you couldn’t. You wanted to tell him to stop, to letyou go, but you couldn’t. So you stood there frozen, hoping those tearswouldn’t fall down your cheek, putting you in a much more vulnerable state thanyou were already in.

- Your professor finally let you go, only to slam the note on the table beforeyou and demand you leave his classroom at once. You gladly obliged and withshaky hands, you gathered your belongings and bolted out the door, running tothe stairs leading away from this dungeon of doom, only stopping when youfinally got to the courtyard.

- Taking a breath, you shriveled to the ground, clutching your chest, your tearsstreaming freely down your cheeks as you tried to clear your head. You tried tothink of happier memories, anything to keep away those memories.

- After what felt like an eternity, you finally pulled yourself together to makeyour way to Sprout’s office who’d luckily had a free period as most of herclasses were always scheduled in the afternoon.

- Severus didn’t hear from you for a full week and though he’d grown a bitconcerned, he was simply happy to have regained peace during his morning class, especially since Potter was as arrogant as ever in the afternoon.

- Sprout had made her way to his office a few days later, telling him everythingyou’d given permission to share and the more she spoke, the worse Severus felt. His only goal in class was to teach his students to the best of hiscapabilities. The last thing he wanted was to traumatize you to the point whereyou didn’t feel comfortable going anywhere near his classroom.

- His heart sank even further when he heard Sprout mention how his class was the only one you’d skipped this last week. He was the reason for your torment. Astudent he’d never meant such harm, suffering because of him. How could he ever forgive himself?

- He’d immediately arrange for a private session with you, Sprout insisting onsupervising after your evident reluctancy. “I apologize for my behaviourMiss.(Y/L/N). I never meant to cause you such pain and rest assured, it willnot happen again.”

- The air of the dungeon suddenly felt so much lighter, so much safer as he spoke and went to fetch all the ingredients needed to brew some of the potions you’d missed.

- It turned out that you were much better at potion making than he’d originallyanticipated, though he blamed himself for your poor performance that first day.He’d failed to educate you; a mistake he’d never make again.

- And he’d truly lived up to his promise, attending to every inquiry that wasasked of him by your Head of House, making sure you had everything you needed during class and outside of class. He’d take extra caution around you, not because he pitied you, but because he feared he’d repeat his pastmistakes.

- The rest of your school year went much more smoothly and Professor Snape became one of your favorite Professors, contrary to everyone else who thought he was an absolute monster, though his slight favoritism, thanks to your success in his class, probably had something to do with it. Nevertheless, you weregrateful for him and everything he’d done for you while he was happy to see youblossom.

Ravenclaw

- The Ravenclaws were a bit more of a handful than the Hufflepuffs; some always wanting to experiment while others seemed to have an endless barrel ofquestions to which he didn’t have the patience to answer. But still, he enjoyedtheir curiosity and as long as they didn’t step on his toes, he welcomedit.

- First day of class and already he could see questions swimming in their minds,just begging to be answered. And he tried, he really did try not to snap atthem, but he’d answered this question four times already and here you wereasking it AGAIN. How hard was it to remember such a trivial thing as to thedifference in usage between leeches and leech juice?

- Children would normally learn to pay closer attention if he was stern withthem, but it was clear, that wasn’t the case for you as your attention spanworsened throughout the day. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you weresorted in the wrong house. What kind of Ravenclaw makes such horrid mistakeswithout even acknowledging their lack of effort?

- You’d been stunned into place when he snapped at you, toxic memories spilling through your mind and you had no mop to clean them up. You couldn’t ask for one, you couldn’t go find one, all you could do was sit there in your mess,pretending everything was alright and hope no one would notice. But someone did notice, and it was the last person you’d wanted the attention of rightnow.

- “What is the meaning of this sloppy concoction you’ve so carelessly throwntogether Miss.(Y/L/N)?” His voice echoed through the room, louder than beforeand his tone was almost threatening, like he’d been so offended by your work,he’d kill you for it.

- You didn’t want to look up, you knew what you’d see; yet another adultdisappointed in you, yelling at you, wanting to hurt you. But against yourwishes, your head turned, your eyes locking with his and you once again foundyourself swimming in the dark abyss of trauma.

- “I asked you a question (Y/L/N). Or do you think yourself too proud to answer?”He sounded more menacing than ever, but something had to be done. He couldn’t have a student perform so poorly in his class, act so disrespectfully. He had to knock some sense into you.

- There was nothing you could do to stop your tears from flowing down your cheeks now. Even if you closed your eyes, those memories would still be there, staring you in the face until you finally gave into their need to burn you from theinside out.

- “Ten points from Ravenclaw and a week’s detention for your disruption andinability to follow the simplest of instructions,” he said before spinninground, letting his cloak bellow behind him and went back to supervising therest of the class.

- Your peers had very quickly gone back to their task at hand, diverging theireyes off you, but you couldn’t join them. You couldn’t stop crying, youcouldn’t stop those flashbacks, you couldn’t do anything but puddle into yourchair, hoping, praying to Merlin class would end soon.

- You felt humiliated, defeated, worthless. The only Ravenclaw who’d more thanlikely fail one of her first-year classes, a core subject nonetheless. And itwas all thanks to your past coming back to taunt you.

- Class went on forever and you’d simply sat there, eyes closed, wishing theworld away as you waited for the Potions Masters to dismiss your class andfinally that time came. Only, he’d mentioned you by name, demanding you staybehind to explain your behaviour. So you sat there, glued to the chair youcouldn’t wait to get out of moments ago, your arms wrapped around yourselftrying to provide you with even a sliver of comfort as your thoughts spiraledonce again.

- Snape would approach you, ready to give you a stern talking to, only to findyou a complete wreck in your seat. He’d seen his student’s cry before, butthis, this was something else. Your current reaction was beyond dramatic. Youweren’t seeking attention, nor were you privileged enough to act like atoddler. He recognized those emotions, the fear emanating from your body like abeacon. Had he gone too far? Had he triggered something he shouldn’thave.

- Without saying another word, he swept across the room, into his personalstorage and retrieved a vial of Calming Draught. Gently, he’d put a hand overyour shoulder as to not disturb you and simply presenting the vial toyou.

- You’d first stare at it, your mind thinking of the worst possible cases. Was itpoison? Some sort of punishment? But your mind came to a halt as your eyesspotted the label wrapping around half the glass. Calming Draught,written in the same cramped handwriting you’d spent what felt like hoursstaring at during class.

- Hesitantly, you’d take a sip from it, looking up for only a second, silentlyasking permission to take some more to which he granted. The potion didn’t takelong to kick in and for the first time that morning, you felt at peace.

- Snape was glad he’d managed to at least partially undo what he’d done, but itwasn’t over just yet. He needed an explanation and he knew it wasn’t hisresponsibility nor was it appropriate to speak to you about such things. So,when he felt you ready, he asked you to stand up and follow him down thecorridor to Professor Flitwick’s office.

- You had yet to speak to your Head of House, but from what you’d heard aroundthe school, the man made a good Professor and cared for his Ravenclaws just as much as the other Head of Houses cared for their students (Snape being the possible exception).

- Snape left you to speak with Flitwick alone, feeling his presence unnecessaryafter he’d explained the situation, but it wasn’t long until he found theCharms Professor at his office door after classes had terminated that day,asking to speak with him.

- And it was just as he’d suspected; you suffered from PTSD and he’d soinsensitively triggered whatever it was that caused you such great pain. Guiltand sorrow seeped into his chest, feeling as though he’d failed you, one of hisstudents, suffering instead of learning, all because of him. But as Flitwick spoke,he began to make mental notes of what to do next time he was around you. Hethought back to this morning and came up with what he should have done instead of so bluntly shouting at you.

- Potions class went much smoother after that, and you found yourself able tofocus much better with the added help from the school’s Potions Master. You’din fact, begun to rather enjoy the class along with the rest of your peers,every day a challenge and an adventure.

- Your Professor was rather proud of himself for turning your progress in classaround, happy he’d managed to not only mend what he’d done, but help you strive further as one of his students. He’d taken this experience as a lesson to never rush into a situation, unjudged and unguided like he had with you. He was much more diligent with you and did everything he could to provide you with anything you needed and you were secretly thankful for it.

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arigatouiris · 5 years ago

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you // bakugou katsuki

Author’s Note: Bakugou Katsuki is someone I can write about anytime anyday.

Ehh so this is my first time writing anything yandere and this is happening because guess who binged all of season 1 of You in one day? Me. Yes. And while I haven’t been posting as much, it’s been a very very hectic year for me, mental health-wise and professionally, so using tumblr is a luxury. There’s a twist here because it’s more of a reader being yandere than Bakugou.

Word count: 3254

Pairing: Yandere! Reader x Bakugou (there’s a twist)

Warnings: yandere elements, sexual references

❝

It had been a rather long day.

Not that you were complaining. With rising levels of anxiety, a long day was a refreshing break from all things related to your mind. Honestly, you like being busy because it somehow takes a large load off of you, giving you a chance to breathe, move around in your own space and think of things that are actually worth thinking about.

And you’re really trying here; to make a difference to yourself. You’re really trying to not let the growing anxiety creep under your skin, to tell you about things that don’t actually matter and despite how much you want to listen to the voice that says ‘if it bothers you, then it matters’, you want to do the right thing and focus on yourself for a change. You’re going to do better, you’re going to stop fixating on things that will only damage you, you’re going to move past what can only hurt you and think of better things, healthier things—

“Hey,” You spun around and blinked, before your eyes slightly widened at the person you grabbed your attention, “You dropped this.”

Oh.

Oh no.

His eyes were on you, not to say it in a creepy way, but there they were—glowing red and power-hungry, falling on you like satin on the floor. Your hands nearly trembled when he handed you the scarf you had ‘dropped’, and your fingers were inches away from touching one another, not that you wanted to touch how his skin felt like, but it wasn’t something you would have minded. Not one bit. You smile at him, shyly, because you don’t want him thinking you were happy about dropping the scarf.

His hair was all over the place and you wondered how it would feel like in between your fingers when you grasp at them as he’s holding you, breathing down on your neck, caressing your skin and you could finally know what he smelt like—

“Thank you, I’m sorry.”

You’re glad your voice wasn’t shaky, and your smile sat firmly in place. You didn’t want to creep him out on the first time you met him.

Oh, but you know, deep down, that it isn’t the first time. You remember the first time like you remember falling in love for the first time. There are things you don’t forget, and there are things that you cannot forget—like the time you had your first drink or the first time you have sex or the first kiss you share with a boy you harbored a crush on for the longest time.

And meeting Bakugou Katsuki was one such thing you simply cannot forget.

“Don’t worry about it.”

He sounded gruff like he didn’t even want to be there, but he didn’t mind helping people. You could see through his cold exterior rather well, almost as well as you could understand yourself. And you knew yourself quite well if you could say so.

Bakugou Katsuki was no rude or intimidating person. He, like you, only wanted to be loved the right way. Bakugou Katsuki was rough around the edges, but it was something you were willing to work with. He wasn’t too complicated, but sometimes, he’d like to think he was because then he could hide his insecurities of being terrible with people away deep inside his mind, and not let it show to just anyone who walks by.

But you’re not just anyone.

He’ll soon realize that. You were sure to make him see that this time, unlike the several times you’ve been wrong in the past, you were right. You were right about looking for love in Bakugou Katsuki because he was looking for it too.

The first time you met Bakugou Katsuki was not the first time he met you. Yes, it sounds strange when you read it like that, but that was how your story began. A week ago, you were trying to pick the best book from the one bookstore you knew that actually sold books from time to time, and there it was. A loud explosion that almost sent everything outside the store scattering—cars, people, name it. But, the source wasn’t a villain or anything that would normally cause such a scene, it was Bakugou Katsuki.

He ensured no one was hurt, which was remarkable in its own way, but the fiery nature he carried with himself sent your heart to the skies; there was nothing he was hiding. He wasn’t like those other heroes who smiled and was nice to every pedestrian out there. He was doing his job, and he didn’t need to be nice about it. And from the looks of it, he was doing a good job too. It took him roughly 4 minutes to catch the villain, despite the explosion, and that was the time you noticed him.

Hi, there, your mind spoke to him as you watched him speak to the authorities. You took in his appearance, the way his hero costume sat on his shoulders; the aggression wasn’t passive, he knew what he had to do and that was attractive too because you liked men who knew exactly what they wanted. You knew of him until then but it was the first time you were seeing him in flesh. People gathered around him but kept a distance because of his reputation and you knew he liked that because, despite the loudness, Bakugou Katsuki was a private person.

You promised yourself you were going to stay in the clear. You weren’t going to involve yourself in someone else because it isn’t good for you. Any sort of obsession is bad, you knew this to be true, but Bakugou Katsuki was inviting especially with the air he had around him. Not anyone can get through it, but you were not anyone.

So when Bakugou Katsuki was being Bakugou Katsuki, what more could you do but love?

It didn’t take you long to find him on social media. He had a private account for everything, but since he was a hero he had a public hero account that he had no choice but to leave public. Despite his arrogance and nonchalance to the rules, he was a pro-hero at the end of the day, and that meant doing things like this from time to time.

You nodded to yourself a bit, swallowing the need to smile and browsed through the ten pictures he had in that account. It was all of him with children and you realized that despite being gruff he was someone who could be soft to kids if he tried. Maybe, he wasn’t in the past but he was now. Now, you jumped to Facebook and it didn’t take you long to find him there but then again, there were several fan accounts and just one public account of his hero page again. You hummed before noticing the various other public figures in his profile—the hero Deku and Shoto, who seemed close but there was one more person.

The hero Red Riot.

You knew from the media that Ground Zero and Red Riot were best friends from their school days, so now you had another lead. You used Red Riot’s public profile to look at Ground Zero; and no, this isn’t stalking, you were just harmlessly checking out the person you knew you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

And viola.

There was just so much to see! Red Riot was a social media whore—and there was just so much he wanted to share. Bakugou Katsuki didn’t look too pleased in these pictures, but you could tell from the bottom of your heart that he loves feeling belonged and he loves his friends and the tough guy act was to initially keep unwanted people away but if you were a certain way for a very long time then it becomes who you are now.

“I know how that feels,” You muttered because you did know how that felt.

So, you waited. You didn’t want to rush, because you knew the best things came with a slow pace and a calm heart. Though you knew your heart was anything but calm, teaching it calmness is a gift.

The next morning, you walked into the cafe and eyed the manager there. Your right hand was holding the flier for a new waitress and you were in need of a new job. Things were perfect. Smiling, you walked over to the manager and greeted him once.

“You’re (l/n)?” He asked, blinking at you.

He was an old man, but he wasn’t weary. He seemed like the most active old man you’d ever laid your eyes on, but no matter. You were going to get this job, and you knew you were hired the second you walked in. All of this was just an unnecessary procedure.

“Yes. Hello. It’s very nice to meet you!”

You were enthusiastic and didn’t push it. Things were going to go well.

“Preppy! I like that. When can you start?”

“I can start right away, haha!”

Oh no, too enthusiastic. You could see doubt cloud in the manager’s eye. You need to play this smart. You need to do something to get yourself out of this mess—

“Perks of not having a job right now.” You cleared the air, and you finally could breathe again.

The manager laughed once before suggesting, “Today at 5 sound good?”

“Five sounds great.”

Five o clock didn’t come soon enough. You were tired of waiting outside the cafe like a stalker, which you weren’t, because you weren’t weird. You were just freshly in love and the enthusiasm was too much for your small heart to bear. If you were being a completely open book, you knew you had a glass heart. You gave too much and expected too little but even that little bit that you expected sometimes never came through. And that hurt.

You get hurt easily not because you have such little faith in people, but merely because people intended to hurt these days.

As soon as the clock struck 4:57, you entered the cafe. The manager noticed you, coming in early but not desperate early, and smiled to himself. It was just the first day, everyone comes early on the first day. You tossed him your best smile before getting to work.

If your calculations were right, then in just 17 minutes, the rest of your life was going to begin.

Bakugou Katsuki walked into the cafe being Bakugou Katsuki and not Ground Zero.

This was a lesser-known fact about him that most people didn’t know, except for his close friends. Red Riot, or Kirishima, and himself were at this cafe calling it “Bakugou’s second home”, which meant he came here a lot.

It was a risk you were willing to take. Who isn’t willing to take risks for love? It’s thrilling, really.

So you made your move, slowly. You were making a fresh start. You were given a clean slate and there was nothing that could hinder this progression or movement. It was going to be Bakugou Katsuki and you, in your love story, reaching a point both of you would be forever happy in. You were so elated you barely noticed someone else walk into the cafe, someone else who could be just as elated as you.

“Katsuki-kun!”

Now, who the fuck is this?

Your eyes turned to spot the brown-haired, round-faced individual walk in and sit opposite to Bakugou, who didn’t even look irritated, to say the least. You knew who she was, but who was she to Bakugou Katsuki? You blinked a couple of times before feeling the rage build in your system.

What the fuck was Uravity doing here?

Wasn’t she with Deku?

Wasn’t she not interested in Bakugou Katsuki?

What the fuck was she doing here addressing your Bakugou Katsuki as “Katsuki”?

You hadn’t even reached Bakugou-kun yet!

You walked over there, carefully, a soft smile on your face—knowing exactly what to say and what to do.

“Hi, may I take your order?”

Bakugou Katsuki’s eyes shot at you before a small hint of recognition struck his features. He wasn’t going to act on it, of course, he could be wrong, but perhaps it was the entire timing—Uravity, him not recognizing you, everything made it crash down hard.

“An Americano for him, right Katsuki-kun?”

She even knew his order? What the fuck was going on here?

“Stop doing that, round face. Jesus,” You felt ease at him insulting her, but it wasn’t enough, “She’s not going to have anything, she was just leaving.”

“Oh? But we have a very good—”

“She was leaving.” Bakugou Katsuki interrupted you, and you stopped talking right away.

You weren’t going to let anyone know how elated you really were on the inside. Uravity sighed before grumbling and stopping midway as she was leaving.

“You know,” She turned around to give him a serious look, “I really someone figures you out.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? You gulped before turning to look at Bakugou Katsuki, wondering what had just happened and why you were so confused.

“You,” You jumped on your spot, “Americano.”

You nodded once before rushing to get him the best Americano he had ever tasted. While you were returning with your drink, you placed it there with a small savory biscuit and that got his attention.

“I don’t think you remember, but you saved our lives a week ago. Just a small token of my gratitude.”

You didn’t need him to know this. He was a pro hero, there was no need for him to know.

“Book store girl.”

You froze. Your wide eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

“You didn’t even come out because of the whole hassle. Yeah, I saw you.”

He’s a hero. He had to be alert and aware of who was around. That was the only reason he knew about you.

Six days went by, and you were slowly trying to piece together who Bakugou Katsuki was little by little. You’d leave him little savory snacks randomly and you could spot a soft change in his glum expression and notice how he’d linger longer than he would usually stay. You had more eye-contact than before and you swore you even saw him smile at you once.

When he wasn’t being a hero, he was being Bakugou Katsuki and wow, you were thrilled that he was choosing to be himself with you.

So, you decided to take it a step further. Six days was enough before you could ask him something personal right? You didn’t want to rush, but you were trying very hard to be anything but fast because you couldn’t wait to see how he felt in your hands and how his skin and hair smelled like and how it would overall feel to have love in your hands.

So, on giving him his third Americano for the evening, you plopped yourself opposite to him and smiled at him.

“Don’t tell me you want an autograph.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

Bakugou Katsuki chuckled at what you said and you swore to all the heavens you had learned language for this particular reason.

“Just wanted to get to know you a little.”

Bakugou looked at you. Yes, he was starting to become Bakugou now, it was slowly adjusting itself in your head.

“You sure you want that?”

You felt a bit hurt at his sentence but couldn’t help but admire how mysterious he sounded as he said it.

“I don’t go do things I’m not sure of.”

“Like work in a coffee shop?”

You chuckled, “This was all I’ve ever wanted.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

“No, but really. Who are you, Bakugou Katsuki?”

He gave you another look, a softer one this time, a look you could barely discern but could spend the rest of your life trying to understand. He leaned forward and your faces were merely inches away.

“I’m no hero, (l/n) (y/n).”

You swore you could feel your heart rate increase with the way he said it.

“And I’m no damsel that needs saving.”

Bakugou smirked at what you said before what you knew as something very darkly sexual began between the two of you. The second you entered the cafe, you were left to wonder what Bakugou Katsuki would want to do to you later that night. The way he touched you, the way you touched him, the way he smelled and the way his skin felt when it slapped against yours, it was driving you closer and closer to insanity.

He didn’t even have to do anything. All Bakugou had to do was sit there and be himself and you could swallow yourself wholly into whoever he was and whatever he was—it was just that easy. Bakugou Katsuki was a man who knew how to please and how to be pleasured from that pleasure and you felt no remorse for even being selfish with him.

Not that you were.

But, you couldn’t help but notice something strange. Every touch, every word that you uttered, it felt as if Bakugou knew where it was coming from and if this wasn’t a sign that it was meant to be, you didn’t know what was.

It was one night that changed everything, however. Not that you’d know.

You and Bakugou were done for the night. Tired, but happy—wounded but whole, you were cradled into his muscular arms, naked to the very bone, but you were satisfied.

“Baku—”

“Katsuki.” He whispered, kissing the tip of your forehead.

You smiled to yourself, “Katsuki,” you repeated, wanting the taste of it, “I think I like you,”

What you didn’t know was he knew.

He knew you liked him. He thought back to the time when he started heading over to the cafe you were working at, that one time with Kirishima—who obviously exaggerates everything he writes about. He thought about the fact that he told his red-headed friend that he liked the cafe, thus rendering it Bakugou’s home. He remembered that it hadn’t even been a week since Kirishima had posted that picture and yet, there you were.

There you were, now, suddenly working there.

After having seen him just once.

Oh, if you think Bakugou Katsuki’s first time meeting you was when he handed you the scarf, then you were wrong. The first time Bakugou Katsuki met you was when you didn’t even know it.

You had a strange habit of smelling old books right in the middle—there was something about the way the pages smelled that gave you a high. You’d smile just a bit after that, enjoying yourself a little bit publically, allowing yourself just that one gesture to please yourself.

You licked your lips after and Bakugou wondered if they tasted just as scrumptious as they looked.

They did.

You slid some strands of your hair behind your ear and he wondered if they felt as soft if he’d pull on them as he pounds into you.

They did.

He noticed how supple your skin looked from under the light in the bookstore and wondered if they’d smell just as divine if he had you under him, begging for him to take you.

It did.

So, he knew you liked him. See, the one thing you liked about Bakugou Katsuki was that he was a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

And this time, he wanted you.

#yandere #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugo #bnha #ground zero #red riot #reader insert #yandere reader #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #Katsuki Bakugō

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ficklefics · 4 years ago

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Who Needs Enemies - Chapter Four: Questions Without Answers

The last time Harleen was at Penguin’s mansion she was on the run and afraid for her life. Now, being calm and in control leaves room for her mind to run away from her.

Jerome Valeska x Harleen Quinzel, Jeremiah Valeska x Harleen Quinzel

SERIES MASTERLIST ~ MASTERLIST ~ CHAPTER THREE

Warnings: None

It’s about four in the afternoon when I finally wake up. I stretch and yawn – the crash from the adrenaline hit me hard. The sound of an engine draws me to the window. A car and a van are pulling up outside. Penguin steps out of the car, and the van doors open to reveal a man and a young woman, both in strange suits of metal. They separate as soon as they can, the woman glaring at him as she makes her way into the house. I recognise them vaguely but no names come to mind. There’s no sign of Jerome.

I get dressed and make my way downstairs, stopping halfway down as Penguin comes through the door. He locks eyes with me immediately.

“Miss Quinzel.” “Mr Cobblepot.”

Silence hangs in the air between us. Part of me wants to ask about Jerome, but another part doesn’t want my entire purpose here being defined by him.

“Thanks for letting us stay here.” I continue down to meet him in the entry hall. “My pleasure.” “You don’t need to lie. I’m sure you’d far prefer peace and quiet.” He gestures for me to follow him and begins to hobble in the direction of his office. “My history with Jerome may be… antagonistic, but he has interesting ideas.” “To be fair, I think everyone’s history with Jerome is antagonistic.” I chuckle. Penguin makes a face as he stops in front of the door. “Including you?” “Well, he did kidnap me.” “And torture you. And yet now you are… allied with him.” He watches my reaction carefully. “If that is the correct word?” “I know it doesn’t make sense, but…” I shrug, trying to find the words. “Whatever is between Jerome and I is complicated.” “Very complicated.” I nod. “I’m not usually one for advice, but you should be careful. Jerome Valeska is a powerful and manipulative person; you can’t let him consume you, Harleen.”

His words circle in my mind. As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point. It would be very easy to let Jerome become my entire life. Too easy.

“I won’t let that happen.” “And what does Jerome think about that?”

I straighten my back, irritated at Penguin’s arrogance and irritated at the truth in his words.

“Jerome isn’t in charge of me. I am. Don’t forget that.”

Slamming the front door behind me, I storm outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air. My hand brushes over the scar still on my stomach. ‘J’. Jerome’s brand. His mark, engraved into my skin for the rest of my life.

Does Jerome think he owns me? I know he said I belong to him, but did he mean that? Am I just a possession, a doll for him to play with until he gets bored? Am I just another idea that went too far?

I shake the thoughts out of my head. I’m in too deep to start doubting myself now. I can’t start regretting the decisions I’ve made – there’s nothing I can do to change them.

“You look familiar,” A voice calls from my left: it’s the woman from before, leaning against the wall watching me. Now I can see her more clearly, I can tell she’s not much older than me. The side of her face is scarred with burns and her eyes glow red. “I’m Harleen. And you are?” “Firefly.” She smirks as she introduces herself. There’s an arrogant air to her – but that’s not uncommon to Gotham’s criminals. “Right. With the flamethrower.” I remember now. She’s appeared in various incidents in the past few years, never sticking around long enough to get caught. “With the flamethrower.” She nods. “How do you know Penguin?” “We’ve worked together before.” She pushes herself off the wall effortlessly and steps closer to me, hand on hip. “How do you know him?” “The same, I guess. But I came with Jerome.” “Of course,” She looks me up and down, “That’s where I know you from. You were all over the news.” “You could say that.” The way she smiles is making me uncomfortable. Like she knows something I don’t. “I’ll see you later.” I leave with a frown on my face, her gaze pricking my back as I go back into the house.

I’m lying on my bed staring at the ceiling when I hear another car pull up. This time I ignore it. The front door slams and heavy footsteps begin making their way up the stairs. Penguin’s voice makes its way through the walls, but I can’t hear exactly what he’s saying. Another voice interrupts him.

“Ah, it’ll be fine!” Jerome.

I sit bolt upright and scramble off of the bed to the door. I press an ear against it but all conversation has stopped.

Waiting until I’m sure Penguin has gone, I poke my head out into the corridor. It’s empty. I don’t know which room is Jerome’s so I head towards the stairs and lean on the polished wooden railing. The entryway is empty too. But eventually, Jerome will come through here.

It’s been maybe ten minutes when a door behind me opens. Looking over my shoulder I see Jerome locking his door. He’s whistling. Then he looks up and sees me. “Hi.” I smile. He grins and makes his way over to me, leaning one elbow on the railing at my side. “Hey there.” He winks at me, making me laugh. “Been making friends?” “So many friends.” I roll my eyes and half sigh. “I didn’t think it was possible to make Penguin hate me more.” “I don’t think he hates you.” “Well, he certainly doesn’t want me here.”

Penguin’s words run through my mind again, unwelcome but ever-present. I shake my head, shaking the thoughts away.

“So where have you been?” “About.” A glare prompts him to keep speaking. “Organising things. Finding people. Making sure good ol’ Gordon is distracted enough for us to do our work.” “Ah, yes. Our mysterious “work”.” I raise my eyebrows at him, asking a silent question. “All in good time, Harls.” “I don’t like being kept in the dark.” “I know.” He frowns. “But this…” “Look,” I turn to face him properly, “Do you promise that I’ll find out everything? That you aren’t keeping something important from me?” “I promise.” He takes my hand, examining my fingers. Compared to him, calloused and rough, my skin is like porcelain – flawless and fragile. “Then I trust you.” I squeeze his hand. And I do. I do trust him. Jerome has never lied to me, never misled me. He may keep secrets, but he always tells the truth. And he’s not the only one who keeps things hidden.

I can’t sleep.

I wasn’t tired when I went to bed, and I’m somehow even more awake now. For hours I’ve been tossing and turning, my mind running away from me. Thinking about my family. Thinking about Bruce. Even thinking about Jim Gordon. I wonder if he went to my house. I wonder if he knows I’m gone.

This is pointless.

I get up and wrap a blanket around my shoulders. Maybe a hot chocolate will help.

The house is dark. But as I shuffle past Jerome’s room, I can hear movement. I glance between the door and the stairs, considering my options. Deciding, I turn and knock on Jerome’s door. “It’s me,” I call out in a loud whisper. I don’t want to disturb anyone else. “What’s up?” I take that as a cue to come in, pushing open the door. It’s a room nearly identical to mine, dimly lit by the bedside lamp. When my eyes land on Jerome, I yelp and turn away at the sight of him standing wearing only sweatpants. “Jerome!” “What?” He chuckles. “You could have warned me!” “You’ve seen me shirtless before.” “Yeah, but that was in a professional setting!” The words sound insanely dumb as I say them, so I look back round. He’s still laughing at me. “Shut up.” I close the door behind me softly. “Never.”

I hover awkwardly in front of the door as Jerome pulls on a sweatshirt, leaving it open so his chest is still exposed. I let my eyes linger on his skin, on the muscles that move under it, on the scars that lay on top; it’s not anything that I haven’t seen in Arkham, but here, in the dead of night, with no one else around, it’s different. More dangerous. More tempting.

“Harls?” Jerome’s voice snaps me back to reality. He’s smirking. “What’s up?” “I… I couldn’t sleep. And I saw you were up, so…” I shrug. I don’t really have an explanation. Instead, I cross to the chair in the corner of the room and curl up into a ball. “So you wanted to see your favourite crazy?” He grins, sitting opposite me on the bed. “Something like that.” “Well, you’ve got me.”

The words spark something in my mind. Do I? Do I “have” Jerome? And once again, I begin to question everything. The fears and anxiety scream inside me. And this time I can’t stop myself from voicing them.

“Why am I here?”

Jerome looks at me, confused. “Cause you want to be?” “Cause you asked me to be.” “Because you said you wanted to help.” “What do I really bring to this though?” I sigh in frustration, leaning back in the chair.

“Come here.” I ignore him, consumed by the noise in my head. “Harleen, come here.”

Jerome only says my full name when he’s serious. I stand up and cross to the bed, sitting beside him with one leg tucked under the other. Jerome grips my jaw in his hand, firm enough that I can’t turn away, but not so much to hurt. His skin is hot against mine.

“You are the smartest person I know. And believe me, we need some smarts here.” I giggle. “Definitely. You’d be struggling without me.” He almost looks insulted, but we both know that I’m joking. “And you’re a fighter. You always get back up – hell, you got shot and you kept running.” Okay, that’s fair. “You’re our secret weapon. They’ll never see you coming.”

A sense of calm settles over me. Just that reassurance, reassurance that I’m not an afterthought, that I’m not irrelevant, manages to suppress unease in my mind.

“Plus, ya’ know, I like having you around.” He releases my face and grins. “You better.” I shove his shoulder gently, smiling now. “Is that why you couldn’t sleep.” I shrug, shuffling to rest my back against the headboard. “Probably. Brain just won’t stop.” “Has your brain ever stopped?” Jerome joins me so we’re sitting side by side. “Probably not.” “Maybe you should try it sometime.” “I doubt it would help. Even if I did get it to shut up, it would probably get revenge by giving me more nightmares.”

I can feel Jerome looking at me. Turning my head I stare right back. “What?” “Nothing.” He looks away, but it’s my turn to grab his cheek and turn his face back towards me. “What is it?” “Sometimes…” His eyes study mine. The words seem stuck in his brain. “I have nightmares too. A lot. Bad ones.” My brow furrows. “I didn’t think you were the type to be bothered by bad dreams.” “I’ve always had them. About my family, about the circus abandoning me. They stopped when I was in Arkham – I guess I just didn’t care anymore. Then, when I came back to life-” “So did the nightmares.” He nods. “I guess it’s easy to forget you’re human.” “How dare you,” He scoffs, clearly trying to diffuse the tension, to move away from the emotional discussion. But I won’t let him. “You are human though. For all your anarchy and chaos, in the end, you still are. There’s no changing that. You feel things: hate, joy, anger, fear…” Love? “If I’m human, so are you.” “Now that’s preposterous.” I look away, gladly breaking the serious conversation now that I’ve said my piece.

Jerome laughs at my pretend outrage. I feel a yawn trying to force its way out of me, but I turn it into a cough. I don’t want to go back to my room. I don’t want to give up what little time I might have with Jerome.

“What’s happening tomorrow?” I ask, resting my head on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything about it, but I know he’s grinning at me. “A meeting in the morning. Then we’re going into the city.” “Ooh, fun.” This time I can’t contain the yawn. “I’ll go in a minute.”

I feel him pat the side of my head, making me scrunch my nose in annoyance. “Stay as long as you want, Harls.”

CHAPTER FIVE

#jerome valeska #jerome valeska x harleen quinzel #harleen quinzel #gotham #jerome valeska fanfic #jeremiah valeska #jeremiah valeska x harleen quinzel #jeremiah valeska fanfic #joker #harley quinn #gotham fanfic

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secret-engima · 5 years ago

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In Fangs and Feathers, what are everyone else's reactions to meeting Xanxus, and vice versa? Are any other reincarnations going to pop up?

In GENERAL reactions are shock (the king has another son?), horror (he’s so VIOLENT AND RUDE), and incredulity (why does Noctis LIKE this guy???). Some more specific ones would be-

-Cor. Cor and Xanxus DO NOT get along for the longest time. It’s like introducing two cats very, very improperly. They tolerate each other at best. Cor thinks Xanxus is violent, uncontrolled, reckless, and selfish. Xanxus thinks Cor is a very, very dangerous man playing at being more calm and in control than he is and that triggers bad memories of Nono’s guardians and their trickery.

-These two will eventually come to a more stable neutrality toward each other after Xanxus stops acting like he’s going to stab Regis at any moment (ie when Xanxus realizes that Regis genuinely does love his illegitimate son and has all the snake-like qualities of a sad fluffy dog) and after many very bloody sparring matches that leave them both exhausted and in need of an elixir.

-Ignis is straight up horrified. He knows Noctis attracts strange people (look at Crowe) and forgives the dangerous ones (look at the various assassins that Noctis has converted) but .... but THIS is Noctis’s brother? Regis’s other son and Titus’s nephew? He’s so .... ANGRY. He walks around like he’s about to commit murder at any given second and yet Noctis ADORES him. It’s only the fact that Ignis can see Xanxus adores Noctis in return that keeps Ignis from trying to poison Xanxus’s tea or something.

-Xanxus, for his part, actually likes Ignis? He’s a Bby Inverted Sun who is clearly very protective and loyal to his Sky. Very smart for his age, and smart enough to be both wary and willing to throw the rule book out the window in favor of protecting Noctis (or better yet, using the rulebook to tangle someone up and trip them legally down the nearest elevator shaft). Ignis knows Xanxus is dangerous and is prepared to fight him to the death the moment Xanxus proves a threat to Noctis. Xanxus approves. He knows Ignis won’t WIN, but he approves. Finally Small Trash gains an Element that isn’t useless or suicidal and hasn’t tried to murder him beforehand.

-Xanxus’s arrival is before Gladio’s Nicked Lung incident (we’ll all just assume Xanxus was out on a Hunt or something when that happened k?) but he’s always ... been neutral toward Gladio. Neutral leaning toward negative. The kid is a brat. Arrogant brat that takes pride in his duty while also being scornful of the bby Sky in his care and THAT makes Xanxus dislike him. BUT, he’s also a kid and kids can change. Plus this is Small Trash’s Storm, he is fully expecting some kind of violent Incident to happen to turn the kid’s attitude around. This does not mean Xanxus won’t join Crowe in kicking the pants off Gladio after he gets back and hears about the Nicked Lung Incident OR from holding it over Gladio’s head for years after but it does mean he won’t outright try to kill Gladio because he knows this is ... how Tsuna-Noct always courts his Elements.

-Gladio thinks Xanxus is SCARY, but also admires him. He ... almost wishes he could be Xanxus’s Shield instead of Noctis’s at first (until the Incident) and thinks Xanxus is a “real man” for always being on the move and ready to fight and get things done. But he also dislikes Xanxus to an extent because Xanxus tends to ignore him or call him Trash instead of his name so....

-After Xanxus hears of the Nicked Lung Incident, Gladio upgrades his opinion of Xanxus from “scary but kinda cool” to “UTTERLY TERRIFYING DO NOT ENGAGE ABORT ABORT ABORT” and also becomes glad he is NOT Xanxus’s Shield because Xanxus is a feral mass of instincts, magic, and wrath tied together in the rough shape of a prince.

-Clarus always knew Regis’s reckless youth would come back to bite. He just ... didn’t expect it to be QUITE this bad. Or violent. Or magically powerful. Or CUNNING because this boy has never touched the political scene before yet he maneuvers through it with the careless abandon that only comes from knowing EXACTLY what all the rules and dangers are and just not giving a flying tonberry.

-He is ready for YEARS for Xanxus to either turn on Regis or turn on Noctis. Or both. Especially after Xanxus’s Shield shows up (more on him later). It ... takes him a long time to accept that yes, Xanxus is loyal and loving, he’s just a feral Cor turned up to 11 all the time and age is not going to make him Chill like it did Cor.

-Xanxus equates Clarus to Nono’s favorite Guardian. Specifically the one that abused Xanxus as a kid and continued to belittle him and treat him as a mad dog for the rest of his life. For obvious reasons, even if this first impression is incorrect, it sours Xanxus’s view of Clarus for years. They come to a silent non-aggression agreement for Regis’s and Noctis’s sake eventually, but not without much glaring (on both parts), snarling (on Xanxus’s part), swearing (on Xanxus’s part), and veiled comments (on Clarus’s part). Once Xanxus is wayyyyyyy older and has been around long enough, their antagonism mellows into something of a snarky frenemies thing, but it takes a while.

-Prompto thought Xanxus was terrifying for all of the ten minutes it took Xanxus to walk in glaring and then let himself get bowled over by a happy Noctis. Seeing the man lying on the floor complaining about “Small Trash get a diet you’re heavy” while absently petting Noctis’s hair went a long way to turn Xanxus from “nigh-eldritch demon” to “really grumpy cat” in Prompto’s brain. It helps that Prompto is the sweetest thing on the planet and even Xanxus doesn’t have the heart to be mean around him (plus Prom is a kid, the most kid-like of all Noctis’s friends, and Xanxus has always had a soft spot from brats as long as they weren’t threats to his Elements or the Vongola).

-Xanxus takes one look at Prompto and goes “ah. Bby Inverted Cloud. Abused bby Cloud. I will protecc.” then hides it under fifty billion layers of Gruff that fools everyone but Noctis, Prompto, and Xanxus’s own Shield.

-Is secretly ECSTATIC when Prompto shows a talent/interest in firearms and proceeds to gleefully train Prompto up to Varia Quality in them. Needless to say, Prompto is now the deadliest thing on the planet (Xanxus is more deadly, but Prompto looks like a cinnamon roll and thus is always underestimated, making him more deadly in the long run).

-The glaives are terrified. Captain’s nephew is powerful, is the King’s oops baby, AND has the general temperament of a rabid Coeurl stabbed to a chainsaw.

-Check that, all the glaives are terrified except for Tredd and Nyx. Tredd loves to antagonize despite the bruises it leaves him and Nyx wants to be friends because HUMAN COEURL. Lib and Luche are a Despair.

-Everyone is a Fear (even Nyx) the day they realize that Xanxus is Titus’s choice for Captain replacement. Which explains why Xanxus signed up the day after he turned 18 despite hating the military but STILL.

-Xanxus ... secretly loves the Glaives. These absolute morons are like his Varia but slightly less psychotic and loud. They are also his Uncle’s People so they must be protected (even if protection comes in the form of chasing them around the training ground shooting at them until they learn to dodge properly NYX). Tredd is a pest, but what do you expect of Storms, and Nyx is a blast because he can actually keep up with Xanxus’s crazy and is usually up for 90% of it. Xanxus’s favorite is actually Lib because Long-suffering Braincell Cloud but shhhh Xanxus isn’t supposed to play favorites with his future troops.

...

-To answer your last question ... yes there will be more reincarnations, but I haven’t decided which ones yet? I know that most of Tsuna’s guardians are NOT present because that makes the cast too big and risks overthrowing the Chocobro dynamic. I also have no plans to bring in any of the Arcobaleno so far and most of the Varia are also not present because I wanna focus on Xanxus and the glaives but.... There IS one member I’ve decided to bring. XDD

-Xanxus spends the three month trial run being kept secret from the world just in case he decides he hates Regis. Obviously he doesn’t, because Regis is the Best Dad™ and that means AFTER that, Regis has to man up and hold a press conference on the existence of his eldest son (who there are rumors about because even the best can’t keep Xanxus completely off the radar).

-Literally one week after the press conference where Regis did his speech and then was surprised when Xanxus actually PLAYED NICE for the camera (ie: didn’t cuss everyone out and only used the word trash ten times, even if he did scowl the entire time and ignore any questions aimed his way), all of Insomnia is thrown into a panic because someone just kamikaze ran a gunship at the Wall and used the diversion to slip through the opening that had been made to let in the weekly trucker convoy of foodstuffs and whatever. Naturally all the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive are up in arms to find the infiltrator that punched the border patrol in the nose and then disappeared into the back alleys.

-Another week goes by with no sign of the infiltrator until he once again rigs a diversion in the form of a truly astronomical amount of firecrackers set off at 4 AM right next to Crownsguard HQ. In the chaos of responding to the “gunfire”, the Nif infiltrator proceeds to careen his way through Citadel security, avoiding capture or death through truly insane shenanigans that make Crowe’s invasion years earlier look like a kitten run.

-Xanxus disobeys orders to stay in his room to instead go hunting for the Trash daring to invade his new home and, being Varia quality, successfully finds the infiltrator before anyone else does in the gardens. Xanxus pulls out a pistol, intending to shoot the Trash through his kneecaps because no doubt the king will want to interrogate him, when the Nif teenager, who has to BARELY be enlistment age and probably only four months out of Imperial boot camp, whirls around and CUTS THE BULLETS with his sword. Which promptly shatters.

-“VOI!” The teen yowls loud enough to shake the leaves of the trees and maybe a few window panes and Xanxus freezes. The teen drops his useless sword hilt on the ground and bares his teeth at Xanxus, green eyes glittering with fury and white-blond, waist length hair left to fly every which way in the breeze (noble’s kid then, no way he’d escape regulation haircuts if he wasn’t from some high noble’s spawn), “You! Get over here and let me stab you!”

-Xanxus holsters his pistol and stalks forward without a word. The teen gets nervous the closer Xanxus gets, Xanxus’s magic flaring around them to box them in with a Shield spell. Once he’s nose to nose with the teen, he reaches out with his magic, poking and prodding angrily at the soul in front of him. The teen doesn’t flinch, just glares with something feral and desperate in his eyes, something manic and NEEDY that reaches out and catches at Xanxus’s burning magic without fear.

-Xanxus takes a breath and its shaky, “Squalo?”

-The Niflheim teenage officer bursts into tears even though he’s trying not to, cussing Xanxus out in between his sobs because Xanxus DIED and he LEFT THEM and HOW COULD YOU YOU IDIOT TRASH BOSS.

-Because they are alone, and because this is his Rain that he thought was forever lost, Xanxus pulls Squalo into a hug that was almost spine breaking and shakes as he pours his magic into the gaping hole in his Shark’s soul.

-The Kingsglaive find them in the garden an hour later, no tears in sight (but eyes suspiciously red) yelling at each other and wrestling like long lost playmates on the ground. Titus, who is used to assessing his nephew’s condition via magic sensing, picks out the vibrate bond of magic between them and groans. “Xanxus, HE’S A NIF. HE’S LITERALLY THE ENEMY.”

-Xanxus hauls the boy (who’s birth certificate would tell you is Tempestas Highwind) to his feet and then pulls him protectively behind him with a snarl of, “Back off, Shark Trash is mine.” When Regis and Clarus, just arriving on the scene and already getting flashbacks to Crowe, make faint noises of protest, he grins and declares-

-“Shark Trash is my Shield, and if any of you have a problem with that you can put it where the sun don’t shine.”

-And Regis wonders what kind of horrible person he was in a previous life to deserve this. Son. Son pls, son he is AN OFFICER OF THE ENEMY FORCES YOU CAN’T MAKE HIM A SHIELD.

-Tempestas/Squalo, loud enough to shake window panes, “VOI I DEFECT FROM THE EMPIRE.”

-Titus just ... groans. Because he knows that look in his nephew’s eyes, that’s both Xanxus’s innate stubbornness AND Lucis Caelum possessiveness. The only way they’re getting rid of this Nif kid is by prying him from Xanxus’s cold dead hands.

-Also fun fact, YES, Squalo is related to Aranea. He is her older brother by a year and YES this is going to lead to the sibling spat to end all spats when she learns her brother uP AND DEFECTED TO LUCIS for seemingly no reason. Tho honestly she’s not surprised, because Tempestas has always vocally hated the empire.

#SE asks #shadowdragongem asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Fangs and Feathers verse #squalo #xanxus

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is-it-art-tho · 4 years ago

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Bruce skidded down the hall, socked feet sliding on polished hardwood, and waited, listening until–

There it was again. That piercing, grating wail that had sheared through his dreams like a razor, wrenching him awake. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep in the study until he was already racing out of the room, darting down darkened hallways.

At first, the sound had seemed to come from everywhere at once, and he’d searched blindly, desperation unfurling in his chest like poison as sweat prickled along his skin until

finally, after what could have been hours or days, he’d been able to isolate the sound.

Now his feet carried him to the closed door of a little-used guest room in the east wing. Only when his open hand was hovering just inches from the wood did he remember that no one else was supposed to be home right now. Alfred had flown out to London to attend the wedding of an old friend. Damian was spending a few days at Titans Tower in preparation for an upcoming mission. And none of the other dozen or so likely suspects had given him any indication that they’d planned to stop by or spend the night. Not that he required or even expected them to do so, but usually he would find some evidence that they were around. If not a text or a greeting in person, then a discarded pair of shoes or the remnants of a snack on a coffee table, maybe extra dishes on the rack.

He considered the possibility of a break-in, but the thought was dismissed almost as quickly as it appeared. Bruce had long since girded the manor’s security, cognizant of every possible worst-case scenario ranging from a disgruntled Wayne Enterprises employee to one of his enemies managing to trace him back here. The gate itself was locked with an oft-changed passcode, the pale stone walls around the perimeter were a little over ten feet tall, and motion sensors and cameras monitored every inch of the massive estate, set to alert him whenever someone crossed the property line. There was no way anyone could get in without him knowing, especially an intruder.

But when gentle whimpers trickled under the door, Bruce pushed it open and barreled in anyways, driven by instinct rather than any semblance of logical thought. The room appeared empty at first, and he progressed slowly, his light steps rendered silent by the plush carpet. He circled the bed and found a small form sitting on the floor, face buried in knees and illuminated by moonlight streaming in through the window. The child trembled as he rocked back and forth, gasping and crying softly, his tiny frame drowning in a massive duster. Bruce’s first thought was

Damian.

But that wasn’t right – that couldn’t be right. He hadn’t known Damian when he was this small, and the skin on this boy’s hands was fair rather than deep and warm.

He crouched, debating whether or not to reach out and touch him.

“Hello,” he offered quietly, wondering if this was someone he was supposed to know. A friend of someone’s that he had agreed to look after for a while? “Are you all right?”

The boy froze. His tiny hands clutched at his arms, but he made no move to respond or lift his head.

“My name is Bruce Wayne,” Bruce continued. “Can you tell me yours?”

The boy’s shoulders began to shake again, and he mumbled something, the words swallowed up in the mess of trench coat and limbs.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“I couldn’t…” the boy whispered.

Bruce decided to take the risk and placed a hand on the kid’s narrow, quivering back. He waited, and eventually the boy turned his head just enough to peer up at Bruce with one, glistening eye. The gaze was desperate and anguished in a way that made the older man think of shattered glass and open graves; of things irrevocably broken and empty and dark. To see that in the eyes of someone so young nearly made him flinch.

“I couldn’t… save them,” the boy choked. He lifted his head all the way then and gazed up at the sky through the window, tears spilling silently over dark eyelashes and pale cheeks. His lip quivered, chest and shoulders jerking with small gasps, but he remained quiet.

When he wiped his nose and turned to face Bruce again, there was a streak of red across his face, and Bruce noticed that the boy’s hands, his too-large trench coat were covered in blood.

“It’s my fault,” the boy continued, and though his voice was thick with emotion, the words themselves were decisive. “It’s all my fault. Every time.”

Bruce couldn’t find his voice, mesmerized as he was by this bloodied stranger, by the darkness in his eyes, the grief that emanated out from him and swallowed the entire room like an entity unto itself.

A deep voice from behind him rumbled, “Bruce,” and Bruce turned and looked, squinting into florescent lights.

The dark bedroom faded and warped into the bustling, brightly lit Gotham police station. A young detective stood over him, hands shoved into pockets, face twisted with regret and anger and sorrow. He squatted and patted Bruce’s head before gently rolling the sleeves of the trench coat up and taking the small, bloody hands in his own large, rough ones. He began wiping them off with a dampened rag.

“Your coat…”

“Keep it,” the detective said as he worked the cloth between Bruce’s trembling fingers. “Mr. Pennyworth will be here soon.”

Bruce’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. He closed it again, watching as the man scrubbed gently at his palms and the pale rag turned rusty. When he finished, the crescents of Bruce’s nails, his skin, were still covered in russet stains, but it was just a shadow now, the ghost of what had been. By tomorrow, they would be clean.

But something deep in the center of his chest told him that he would never see them the same way again. That in his mind, they would always be red and dripping. He was certain that it would leech into everything he touched from now on, that the rest of his life would be streaked with crimson.

A crack of thunder dragged Bruce’s gaze upwards, and he squinted into pouring rain, the dark swirling clouds. He glanced back down; his oxfords were partially submerged in mud. The police station was gone, and before him was a gravestone, new and unweathered, the grass still not having filled in the freshly placed dirt, bouquets not yet withered.

“Master Bruce.” Alfred’s voice, weary and aching, was barely audible over the storm. “I do believe it is time, sir.”

Bruce made no move towards him, his eyes now glued to the headstone, the name there. The carved letters shifted and morphed, flickering and out of focus like an illusion.

Martha Wayne. Thomas Wayne. Jason Todd.

The name mutated almost faster than he could read it.

Tim Drake. Dick Grayson. Cassandra Cain. Stephanie Brown.

Damian Wayne. Barbara Gordon. Jim Gordon. Clark Kent. The rest of the League. The rest of the city.

Everyone.

Bruce’s hands spasmed into fists at his sides; his jaw locked, and his shoulders hunched forward as he released a guttural, animalistic roar. The heavens boomed their reply.

He dropped to his knees then his palms, fingers disappearing into the dark sludge, and he sobbed. He was only vaguely aware when the rain stopped abruptly, replaced by a dull pattering sound, and Alfred crouched beside him with the umbrella held over them both.

A thin hand rubbed his back as Bruce wept, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He felt movement at his side and glanced over just enough to see the boy in the too-big duster sitting in the grass beside him, knees curled to his chest. He was staring at the headstone, dry despite the driving rain, though his face still glistened with tears, his hands still dripped with blood.

As if sensing Bruce’s gaze, the boy looked at him and there was a deep sadness in his eyes, a morbid lack of surprise as if to say, What did you think would happen?

He realized that rain was hitting him again. Alfred was gone.

Everyone. Every time.

Bruce couldn’t tell whether it was he or the boy who spoke, but the voice rang clear and loud over the rain as if it came from somewhere within him when it said, “I couldn’t save them.”

Mud crept up his wrists and forearms, swallowed his knees and shins as he sank into the ground. And he let it happen, suddenly profoundly exhausted by the idea of tomorrow.

And tomorrow. And tomorrow.

It would be better – just, even – to let the cold earth consume him as it had his parents, his friends, his children before him. To succumb to the fate to which he had damned them all the moment he entered their lives. They deserved that much, at least. His final act of justice.

He had spent so much time certain that the only way he could do right by them, by the people he’d lost, was to purge evil from the streets of Gotham. But perhaps it was he, all along, who needed to be removed. He, who despite all of his training, still routinely failed to save those closest to him. He, who despite decades of work, still failed to wrest the city of his birth from the clutches of more powerful demons.

He, who had utterly failed in his mission and would continue to do so tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

The sludge progressed towards his shoulders and hips. The ground had taken on a deep, burgundy hue, and his nostrils were now full of the earthy scent of damp soil and the metallic bite of blood. He closed his eyes as it grazed his chin, his lips.

“Ah, shite!”

Stale cigarette smoke filled the air as two hands plunged into the mud and yanked Bruce back by his shoulders, away from the stone of a thousand names, away from the bloodied earth, away from the storm. The world evaporated into a pale light, and Bruce’s eyes flew open with a gasp.

He was staring at a wood paneled ceiling, his head and stomach churning. He closed his eyes again almost immediately, biting back the urge to be sick.

“Bloody told you I’d get ‘im out, didn’t I?” an arrogant, if somewhat shaken voice panted nearby.

“Batman?” This voice was too familiar; and Bruce’s mind filled with the memory of a headstone, a name. His hands still felt slick with blood and soil, his arms and legs coated in it. He kept his eyes closed and willed himself to focus on what was tangible.

“John. What’s wrong with him?”

There was a shuffle of movement, and the arrogant voice came from much closer when it said, “He’s fine, mate. Just give the old man a second to sort ‘imself out.”

Suddenly a hand was on Bruce’s shoulder, firm and grounding. “Batman. You’re okay. You’re all right.”

Bruce took a breath and ground his teeth, bracing himself for a new horror as he opened his eyes. Nightwing sighed and smiled.

“Good,” he breathed. “You really… I was really…” The young man stopped, pivoted. “How are you feeling?”

They were in an old, unfamiliar study, Bruce laid out on a stiff couch. Entire bookshelves were toppled, a lamp shattered, scorch marks on the curtains and walls. Candles floated in the air around them, burned nearly to the quick, and the air smelled of incense and dust and the unique, almost citric tang of recent magic. In the corner, a sorceress was unconscious and bound in glowing chains while John Constantine leaned against a desk, stretching his neck and sighing.

Slowly, Bruce began to piece things together, memories coming in broken, disordered fragments.

“Madam Luce,” Nightwing supplied as if reading Bruce’s mind. “She got the jump on us while we were looking for info about the creatures in eastern Qurac. One second, we were fine then the next you were down. She got in your head.”

“That she bloody did,” John muttered, tossing an accusatory glance Bruce’s way. “Which is why I told you lot not to get mixed up in this business in the first place. You’ll only get yourselves killed. Or worse.”

Nightwing flexed his jaw and exhaled through his nose, but otherwise ignored him. “Are you okay?”

Bruce. No, Batman. He was not Bruce now. The weight of the cowl and body armor reminded him as much as he pushed himself upright.

“Yes,” Batman said, and he noticed when John shot him another look. As Batman swung his legs around so that his feet were on the floor, John said,

“Oi, Smaller Bat–”

“Nightwing.”

“Whatever. Be a doll and ring Zatanna for me? She’ll want to know we’ve got Lucy here. The birds’ve got some history.”

“Sure,” Nightwing said. “But I don’t have her–”

John tossed him an old flip phone. “It’ll be under ‘Magic Mummy.’ Don’t ask.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Nightwing murmured, cringing a little. He glanced at Batman, a question, and Batman nodded once.

After Nightwing had jogged from the room, John leaned forward with a cigarette in his lips to light it on one the floating candles. Batman stood and found himself drifting somewhat aimlessly around the room. His mind still felt scattered, a million thoughts crashing and shattering against each other, and a distant, horrible suspicion left him uncertain whether or not he was truly back in the real world.

Everything still felt strangely unbalanced and weightless; he struggled to discern whether this was an aftereffect of the spell or a sign of something worse. As he dragged a gloved hand along a portion of singed wallpaper, he half expected to leave a streak of blood in his wake.

“It’ll do that to you,” John said from behind him.

“What?”

“That spell. Her spell. You feel like you’re still there, don’t you? Like you’re still not sure which way is up and which way’s Canada. Who’s to say if you walk through that door right now you won’t end up in another nightmare?”

Without meaning to, Batman glanced towards the door and his stomach bottomed out. He swallowed hard and looked away.

“Do you want to… er… well, do you want to talk about it, then?” John asked.

Batman’s eyes flicked up and he watched the Brit fiddle with the cigarette in his hand as if trying to memorize something written there.

“Would you?”

“Oh, bloody hell no. But I’ve been reliably informed that I can be something of an arse and that I ought to work on my ‘people skills’ so this is me working.” He shrugged, took a long, sucking drag from the cigarette and snuffed it on the desk beside him. “But then again, look who I’m talking to.”

Batman could have smirked at that, but instead he turned his attention to the only standing bookcase, ran his finger along the spines. “What was it?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“The spell. What I saw, it was so…”

“Right.” He heard John sigh. “Well, at the risk of coming off an absolute tosser: it’s magic, mate. Plain and simple. I could try to explain it, but I’d wager that would only be more infuriating.”

“I understand that,” Batman ground out, a little more harshly than he’d intended. “What I want to know is what was the nature of the spell. I saw things that already happened. Things from my past. But I also saw things that haven’t happened. And now I just need… You have to tell me if…” He clenched his jaw again, could practically taste the mud on his tongue, could feel the grit of it on his teeth. Panic was creeping up into his throat, and he tamped it down hard.

“Mate,” John began, more gently than Batman had ever heard him speak. Somehow, it only made him more uneasy. “Are you asking if the visions were prophetic?”

Batman didn’t respond, but his assent must have been clear in the weighty silence that followed. John sighed loudly.

“Is that what’s got you so–” He stopped short. “Christ, Bats.”

“I have to know,” Batman murmured, his voice hoarse. “I have to.” He turned to look at John directly. It would be easier this way to tell if the other man was lying or softening the truth.

There was something like pity in John’s eyes, and pain. He opened his mouth at the same time that Nightwing sauntered in, tossing the phone back.

“Zatanna said to torch her,” Nightwing said. “She wouldn’t elaborate.”

“That’s my girl,” John sighed fondly, his entire manner shifting on a dime. Nightwing paused and looked back and forth between the two of them, as if realizing belatedly that he’d interrupted something. “Should I…?”

“No,” Batman cut in. “We should go. By now the Order will have noticed Madam Luce’s absence. They’ll be sending people to search for her.”

“Now that’s a party I’d like to miss,” John said. He murmured a quick incantation and waved his hands. A moment later, Madam Luce was levitating beside him, her head limp as he strode from the room. At a glance, you’d almost think they were walking together. With the glamor, that was probably exactly what they were doing.

On the sidewalk, the early morning sky was thick with storm clouds. Batman stared up at them, trying not to think of blood and graves and sinking, sinking, sinking…

John slapped his forehead. “Oh, bother! I’ve gone and forgotten my lighter. Smaller Bat, would you be a peach–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nightwing sighed, turning to jog back up the steps. John smiled sweetly after him until he’d disappeared back into the old home.

Then he turned to Batman, his gaze hard. “Invictus, mate.”

“What?”

“Invictus. The poem.”

“I am the master of my fate; the captain of my soul.”

“Precisely. Now, the shite you saw? It could happen. All of it, just like it did in your dream. But that’s just a possibility. One of trillions. Just a bunch of threads stretching out in endless directions waiting to be pulled and added to the dazzling if also terrifying quilt that is your life. It’s up to you to decide how that turns out.

“And believe me,” he added with a wry smirk, “I am fully aware of the irony here. Me of all people prattling on about self-determination while half my job has me dealing with the powers of fate and destiny on a near constant basis. Hell, I had tea with Dr. Fate just last Tuesday. And I’ve snogged two of the Grecian Fates, myself.”

He frowned, running a hand through his scraggly blond hair. “Hm. I should probably ring them…”

“John.”

“Right. My point is that’s just the sort of blatant, arse-backwards contradiction that I’m happy to live with. Keeps me sane.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up as it started to rain. The drops left dark blotches on John’s pale duster, and Batman realized with a jolt how similar it was to the one he’d been given so long ago. “Gives me a reason to look forward to tomorrow.”

Batman followed John’s gaze, tipping his head back to let the drops roll over his face. He closed his eyes as he took a deep, measured breath. “Hn. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I’m just trying to keep you from going ‘round the bend here. You’d be a bloody awful nuisance if you went to the other side.”

Batman shot him a sidelong glance. For such a prolific conman, John was doing a terrible job of it now.

Behind them, the front door swung open.

“There is,” Nigthwing announced, “no lighter.”

John slapped his forehead again, chuckling. “You know what, lad? I’ve just remembered I left it in my other pants.”

“Fu–”

“Tootles!” John waggled his fingers pleasantly then disappeared in a blink, along with Madam Luce.

“I really hate that guy,” Nightwing grumbled, coming back down the steps.

“He really is something, isn’t he.”

#batman fic #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne #batman #nightwing #jonh constantine #whump fic #kinda i guess #angst fic #kinda

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moonlightstars16 · 5 years ago

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Chapter 5 ~ Library Introductions

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you understanding everything so far Connie?" Pearl asked while pausing her lecture and teachings about the royal Diamond life. She knew Connie had to become familiar or else they could do unspeakable things to her. It was most imperative since she will be joining her and Steven on all meetings regarding the 'Cluster' project. Still with all the knowledge given, Pearl was surprised she could keep up and, it would seem, to retain everything. Supposing it wasn't to far off from humanity's royal lifestyle, rules and proper etiquette. With the Diamonds, one can never be too cautious or prepared.

"Yes Pearl, never speak unless addressed and salute and bow when entering the room." Her notes were detailed and organized just like her old cram school notes were. It was easier to think of them as such than her current circumstances. Still the thought of what transpired only a couple of hours ago left her clutching the transparent tablet tightly, as if she would fall if not holding onto something.

'Warmth touched her skin as she began to awaken. Blinking twice as if disbelieving of her own eyes. Forcing herself to realize this wasn't a dream, she slowly sat up. Hand rubbing the side of her head from a slight discomfort, though it could've been for everything happening to her at once. Moaning she looked up and gasped, not expecting him to be sitting next to her so casually. Instead of anger, she couldn't tell what sort of expression he was trying to convey. Perhaps it as nothing.

"How are you feeling?" Was that a genuine concern he held in his voice?

"I-I'm fine-" Gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes tight at the sudden pain in her head throbbing. Her hands gripping a blanket, just now realizing it partially covered over her. On instinct she laid her head back onto the pillows. Moaning slightly from the discomfort she felt. Unexpectedly a cooling and soft sensation touched her forehead. Barley opening her eyes to see Steven holding a cloth dipped in cold water. It instantly eased her pain and gave her the idea that the water was perhaps from the fountain. Still she was curious as to why he was doing this in the first place.

"Shh... just relax." Then he smiled, an actual smile! Connie could't believe how genuine it actually was. Or how it appeared to be that is. Hesitant to truly trust anything coming from him. Soon the pain she felt diminished and he lifted the wet cloth from her head, placing it to the side before returning his attention all on her. She truly was beautiful and with a fire beneath her innocence, that made her even more radiant. Reaching out he gently caressed her hair down to her cheek. Inhaling sharply at his touch, and taking note of how gentle he was. "How does it feel?" His voice, deep, calm and caring it would seem, even she couldn't deny that. Soon it occurred to her that she hadn't said anything and the silence was going on for too long.

"Oh, um, it's okay... I don't feel anymore pain."

"Good"

"Um...my eyesight.... did you- I mean-..." she sighed trying to figure out how to word it.

"Yes I did." Her eyesight was pretty much crystal clear. So much so she could see a lot more detail than before. Including him. Which was a bit more nerve wracking in this moment with how close he was. His exactly half mask with only his eye from that side of his face shining through. At first glance it was frightening to see, however in this moment she saw more than a fearsome look. She saw what appeared to be soft, tender and gentleness. It was almost comforting though a bit odd with his rough exterior.

"Thank you..."

"Hmm" His hand lingered on her cheek momentarily before moving to the back of her neck. The other slipped around her lower back as he lifted her up. Quickly her pillows were adjusted so she could sit up better. Instinctively, her hands reached up against his shoulders (much firmer than she thought) to keep her balanced. There eyes met for a brief moment and for the first time she could see his more clearly. Though similar to any human eye, his were pitch black, the only color was a pink pupil in the shape of a diamond. He smirked and chuckled slightly causing her to snap out of her haze. "Are you enjoying the view?" Those words felt vial and full of arrogance. Immediately Connie pushed him away, which wasn't that far but enough so she couldn't feel how close he was.

"I'm fine" her tone full of that fiery spirit he loved to see coming from her. Standing up he walked towards the door.

"If that's the case, Pearl will see you in ten minutes to discuss some important matters." Before leaving, he glanced back and gave her a wicked smile. "That fire within you will surely help you fit in. Though will it be enough?" Connie's eyes widened and a blush crept her cheeks, while echos of his laughter ringed in her eyes as she left.

"Connie.....Connie?!" Pearls voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "This is very important and your focus is imperative before our first meeting with them soon!"

"I'm sorry, you're right I need to focus." Sighing Pearl shut off her tablet and ran her hand through her hair.

"I think that's enough for today. Why don't you take a break and we'll pick it up tomorrow?" She was obviously very tired and need to rest. 'Especially after all she's been through.'

"Are you sure? What will Steven say-"

"Oh just tell him I told you to take a break. If he has any problems with that, well he can surely try to pick a fight with me." Connie giggled at her amusing tone, believing every word. "Now go and get some rest." She added with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The castle architecture was similar to earths medieval, Victorian, Gothic style...with some gem interior mixed in as well. Still it was beautifully haunting. Every corridor lit with candelabras, melting wax candles, red carpet, and many shadows. Though frightening at first glance, her curiosity kept her going. Her fingers grazed the dark wooden railings and her gaze looked up to see another beautiful chandelier. Not realizing where she was going, a green gem with a triangle shaped hairstyle bumped into her. Causing the gem to fall backwards and her transparent tablet to fall out of her hands.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, you Clod!" Connie held out her hand for the gem currently on the floor.

"I'm so sorry! Here let me help you!" She smiled while the gem eyed her in curiously, taken aback from this unexpected gesture. Hesitantly she accepted and stood up with her help.

"I would take it that you are the human everyone is talking about?" the gem eyed her through twin diamond specs observing everything about her. Though Connie didn't quite know how to feel about the fact she was the topic of everyone's conversations.

"I suppose so, I'm Connie. What's your name?"

"You care to know my name? Why?" she looked kinda shocked that someone even took the slightest interest in her and not her abilities.

"Oh well I guess it's because I want to get to know you better. To be your friend." A flicker of hope seemed to flash across the gem's eyes, before she shook her head and stood straight. Doing the Diamond salute Connie learned from earlier.

"My name is Peridot Facet-2F5L Cut-5XG!" That was a lot of info still it made her smile. She noticed that the long name might've been unnecessary. "You can call me just Peridot if you want."

"Well Peridot it's nice to meet you, and I'm sorry I bumped you to the floor." Connie laughed slightly, embarrassed and showing an apologetic smile.

"It's not important now, no worries. But I have to ask, what were you doing?"

"Well I was just walking around, getting used to my surroundings I suppose...and perhaps a bit lost along the way." she admitted sighing. This place seemed at least three times that of a large human castle. And that's saying something because those seemed to small in comparison!

"Oh! I can help you with that! Come with me!" Peridot said excitedly while grabbing Connie's hand and rushing through the East wing. It took all her strength to keep up and not trip. They ran until a huge double door, dressed in gold trimmings, stood before them. Connie barely had time to admire the design before Peridot pushed the door open, dragging her inside. "Lapis! Bismuth! Come here quickly!"

"Who?" The question barley escaped her lips as she took in the most beautiful, grand and incredible library she ever laid her eyes upon. Her eyes twinkling at the sight of how large it was and filled with many stories. And quite human like as well. Hardly anything gem related connected to this room

"We're coming Peridot, hold on!" From above Connie saw a beautiful blue silhouette with wings made up of what appeared to be water. If she hadn't already known she was a gem, she would've surely mistaken her for a water nymph or fairy. The gem in question landed right before them. A tad taller than Connie and even more so than Peridot, not that it was a bad thing. the gem eyed her over briefly.

"Is she-?"

"Yes, Lapis!" Peridot interrupted "I met her in the hallways!" Not sure what about that was exciting. Still she gave Lapis a friendly smile as well.

"Hi, my name is Connie."

"Connie? Well that is a beautiful name!" A powerful booming like voice echoed through the enormous and open room. She turned her head to see a larger gem, with in her gem going inwards instead of out and streaks of rainbow in her hair with a more silver complexion. "I'm Bismuth! Welcome to our home!" The kindness in there voices almost made her cry. Pearl was nice but was Steven's second in command, Greg showed more kindness and yet was still his father.

Though he did not approve of what he did, his heart was broken from loosing his love. Almost seeming like he was blind to it all. Not really of course but the hesitation was prominent. Spinel....wasn't a gem to cross paths against. But these gems seemed different than the others in a sense, her gut told her she could trust them. Maybe she could get through this after all.

"Thank you, it's truly nice to meet you all here. I'm beyond grateful to have met such kind gems."

"Well I'm sure you can use a friendly face after what you have been through." Bismuth said with a bit more gentleness in her tone and a genuine smile.

"I suppose everyone here as heard." Her face downcast and blushing of embarrassment.

"Well it's not every day a human is willing to come here." Bismuth added with a nervous chuckle, her hand scratching the back of her head.

"But why did you give yourself up?" Lapis asked with a look mixed of confusion and concern.

"Yeah, that is a puzzling thing to grasp. Even with all my calculations I still don't understand." Peridot replied adding onto the conversation. Connie rubbed her right arm and sighed remembering the moment she last saw her father. Tears threatening to brim her eyes as she blinked them back whilst taking in a deep breath.

"In the moment all I thought about was saving my father. I couldn't stand to loose him. It wasn't till he gave me the opportunity to change my mind, that I truly felt the weight of what I have said burdened on my shoulders. I suppose I said yes because, even if I stood by and did nothing, it would be like I had murdered them myself. I- I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Well Connie, you truly are courageous to do what you did. I'm sure the humans back on earth are grateful for your bravery."

"Bismuth is right! You're a hero!" Peridot exclaimed proudly which made Connie giggle briefly, until she heard her next comment. "Yes I'm sure when you return, they will have made a huge statue in your honor!"

"That is if I return home..." Connie spoke softly walking towards a chair to sit upon.

"What do you mean 'if you return'? don't you want to go back home?" Lapis asked once again full of concern as she sat down next to her.

"I- I made another deal with...him..." Upon hearing that they gasped, eyes widening at the sudden new piece of information. Peridot and Bismuth gathered closer as Connie explained the deal and how it came to be. When she was finished recounting the events, she took another deep breath as Lapis gave her a handkerchief to wipe away a few tears that had fallen.

Feeling beyond tired of crying and embarrassed of doing it in front of anyone. Gently Dabbing away the tears she felt on her cheeks and her eyes, she ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry to have bothered you with all this." A nervous laugh escaped her briefly.

"Hon, don't ever feel like you're a bother to us. It's been an overwhelming turn of events for you. I can't speak for everyone in this room, but I know you can tell me anything." Bismuth spoke in the most comforting and caring voice she could muster.

"And me too!" Peridot chimed in with a large grin.

"Well gem or not I think you're pretty amazing. Same goes for me." Lapis contributed while her lips curled upward.

"Besides I think it would be nice to see Steven force fed a piece of humble pie." Bismuth added as they all laughed.

"Thank you, you all are so sweet. But I'm not sure if I can stand up to him... not with humanity on the line." Bismuth's hands overlapped hers, Connie, in turn, lifted up her gaze.

"Listen, like I said it took great courage for you to sacrifice yourself for humanity. But I believe this was meant to be, maybe you're the hero not only humans need, but what we all need as gems. Perhaps even saving Steven's life from eternal darkness." She put a hand up before Connie could interject. "I know it's a lot to ask of you, no ones going to force you to do it. But please know whatever you decide, we will stand by your side. Help you in any way we can." Bismuth was right, it was a lot to take in for her. However knowing she had friends was all she needed right now.

"Geez Bismuth, why don't you say she'll overthrow the Diamond monarchy while you're at it." Lapis remarked with a sigh and her fingers slightly pinching her furrowed brows.

"Oh right theirs another goal for you!" Bismuth said sarcastically while snapping her fingers which made Connie laugh and Lapis rolling her eyes.

"Wait, you're not serious right?" Peridot innocently asked seeing how the sarcastic bit went over her head. That made them all laugh harder as Connie tried to explain the joke. Feeling much better already since she arrived here. All three gems soon gave her the grand tour of the library, filled with human books that they had collected over the years.

However unbeknownst to them was a certain pink gem; watching them amongst the shadows, watching her. She couldn't stand what was happening at all. With the other gems befriending her and vice versa, she realized she would have to get involved in order to get what she desired. This human was turning out to be a much difficult adversary than she expected.

"You still watching this pathetic human? Why?" Jasper spoke wrapping an arm around Spinel's waist, kissing her neck multiple times.

"I won't let her be a thorn in my side. If I am to be in a position of power soon, I must do whatever it takes to maintain it." Her voice low and threatening before lifting up Jasper's head and kissing his lips passionately. Taking her away back to her quarters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Outside in the castle garden, Steven had taken a break from composing reports and ideas for the upcoming project, walking amongst the courtyard. His mind become clear as he felt the cool breeze around him. Sometimes a quiet stroll through the garden(and perhaps with lion at times) was sometimes needed; to clear his head from the thoughts he fought so hard to suppress. A sound of what seemed to be laughter echoed in the wind, catching his attention.

following the sound he looked up into the Library window. Noting the merriment that Peridot, Lapis and Bismuth were making. It was slightly puzzling since they hadn't been this happy in a long time. But when he saw her, it all made much more sense. Watching Connie as she laughed, smiled and placed many books upon the shelves, along with the others, seeming as if she enjoyed the company and the activity. 'So...she likes to read...' He thought memorizing all that he was witnessing in that moment.

Unintentionally he had a small smile appear at the corner of his lips (though no one would be able to see since his mask hid half of his face). Unable to look away from someone so angelic as she was. Perhaps it would be nice to have someone by his side. He then shook his head from the thought reaching up to touch his mask, just barley.

'No...don't fool yourself. A beast is what you are and always will be.'

#shatteredbloodsufau #au #fanfiction #evil steven #steven universe #steven universe future #steven and connie #connie mahaswaren #connverse #garnet #amethyst #pearl #greg universe #spinel #the diamonds #pink diamond #pink steven

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austennerdita2533 · 5 years ago

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A/N: My contribution to the KC New Year’s Day Exchange for the lovely Charlotte. (Modern P&Pish/The Hating Game AU + All Human + Romcom Tie-ins)

(AO3)(FF.net)

xx Ashlee Bree

(Spite) of Their Lives

For the past ten months, the routine has been this: Monday through Friday she avoids his eyes, claps back when he crosses a line at the office because it’s only a matter of time before he does something rash and destructive and she has to help fix it - again. Saturday she ignores his emails and text messages. A bevy of unreads she collects like bills, like love letters. However, not because she wants them or anything but so she has an excuse to ream him for his you can’t avoid the devil forever, sweetheart 😈 assholeness later. Like, come on, get a hobby. Or a girlfriend. Or a freaking life outside work already. Seriously. And Sunday…Sunday she reminds herself of all the reasons why he’s the biggest pain in the ass she’s ever met.

A right charming prick, really.

He’s the kind of man who, with a natural blend of arrogance, genteel good looks, cunning, money and rapier’s wit, knows just how to poke and pinch at every last nerve she harbors beneath her skin until she wants to scream. Until she does. Until she’s cursing the name Klaus Mikaelson before her first cup of coffee in the morning and after her last sip of wine before bed at night.

To call him a colleague is a stretch for Caroline. A big one. Let alone a friend, at least not in the conventional sense.

They clash more often than they collaborate on anything, after all: with him demanding speed and severity when it comes to finding ways to cut their competitors off at the neck; and her countering with options that preserve dignity, that allow for diplomacy as well as smooth transitions of power that begin and end with a cordial handshake. Theirs’ is a total conflict in tactic, in personality. A spark of opposition that means business—you know the type. It’s ugly courtesy mixed with innuendo that slides into begrudging respect twenty-four hours a day, fifty-two weeks of the year.

They’re opposites in every sense of the word, but it works.

Together they make for a surprisingly prosperous combination in the corporate world, and it’s one that just so happens to help them rake in diverse clients on top of big bucks revenue.

So where Klaus snarls at almost everyone, Caroline beams. Likewise, where she's poised and reliable in the midst of a crisis, he rages. Sometimes throws things. Expensive things. Once or twice at people’s heads, though that “rumor” lives in the Do Not Discuss Or Else vault with all of those shady concerns about certain members of his family.

Since she’s neither short on smiles nor sociability either, it follows that he tends to be gruff in comparison. Or as most other employees like to whisper, as grouchy as a wealthy Brit has any right to be.

Needless to say then, the muscular tick along his jaw is a measure of his mood. It’s a physical marker to watch for so one knows when it’s okay to broach a sensitive topic with him or when it’s smarter to bow out, zip it, lay low, waiting for a better time to tackle the issue at hand without any measure of solvency. Caroline’s become an expert at dissecting it. That little quirk. She knows precisely what to look for. Figured it out in matter of weeks. Not to boast or anything.

(Hint: the key is in the rapidity with which the tick comes, its root cause. Next comes deducing how long it’s likely to last. Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? Calculate the potential damages. Then follow up accordingly.)

So now she knows to attack in the evenings, negotiate in the afternoons, and relent in the mornings. She’s learned what strategies to unleash on him and when.

Call it an Unwind the Big Bad Prick science, if you will. A crash course on all Mikaelson whims and asshole-isms.

The truth is Caroline’s not afraid to provoke him. To rattle him. She never has been, never will be.

She’ll call bullshit directly. to. his. smug. face. when he deserves a good tongue lashing or needs a simple lesson in civility, which just so happens to be much more often than one would think.

Summa cum laude honors, and unmatched organizational skills aside, she knows that’s one of the reasons why the Mikaelson siblings had Klaus hire her in the first place. She’s the hip check he needs. The temperate balance to his foul, distrusting moods and impulsivity.

There’s an entire arsenal of cutting glares at her disposal for him now. A challenge that sits on the tilt of her nose when they arrive somewhere simultaneously, both intent on being the first in the room. It doesn’t matter where it is, with whom they’re meeting, or why. The point is to compete…to be the one who’s holding the ace in her palm.

She aims to outsmart, outthink, and out win him in as many schemes as possible. In as many days, too, if she can swing it.

It’s how Caroline has come to carry arguments in the strum of her fingers. Wear them in the slight curl of her upper lip when they disagree. Her hair flip’s perfected, a real asset. A true silencer when she needs it to be. Like when he tries to pull rank or won’t listen to logic at all. (Which, again, happens more frequently than it should. May even prompt an eye roll or two. Sometimes three - you know, if the chip on his shoulder starts to burnish gold and he downshifts into being ruthless and impossible again.)

Not to mention the fact that her verbal comebacks slap harder than Klaus’s do since she smiles as she delivers them, the effect as disarming for him as it is satisfying for her—and oh, boy, can she sure deliver a line! Then watch as it lands like a whap across his cheek.

None of that has anything on the swivel of her heels, though. Or the sashay of her retreat which she enacts only once she’s successfully shaved him down a peg or two, knocking his ego back down to planet earth where it belongs. At least for the rest of the day.

It’s safe to expect that it’ll be back in tact by tomorrow - it always is - but she still lives for the dimpled purse of his mouth, anyway. That rough swallow of his Adam’s apple. The sag in his seat which precedes the defensive crossing of his arms that lets her know she’s one-upped him, and he’s impressed. Intrigued. Put out in a way that makes him borderline congratulatory…almost flirtatious, really.

(Except they can’t stand each other so she brushes the latter thought into the back of her brain where it can asphyxiate and die. Like - as soon as possible.)

A backward wave of her hand is the only thing Caroline leaves behind as her red-soled heels click down the hallway afterwards. Headed back toward her own office. Sometimes she steers toward the elevators afterwards because it’s late, because she now has something to gloat about on her ride home.

She prefers to abandon him when he’s at her mercy like that: stunned, speechless, reeling, his head still turning over her last competitive taunt.

It makes him look boyish even though he’s pushing thirty. Pleasantly caught. Not to mention a smidge more attractive than she wants him to be with those rumpled blond curls and abandoned tie, his sleeves cuffed up to the elbows.

Klaus seems to derive some kind of twisted satisfaction from the leveling of odds between them regardless. And why the hell not? So does she.

It’s adrenalizing, plain and simple. A grin always seems to snake its way onto their faces at the same moment. Win or lose. Every time.

Wrapped up in their little game of professional chess, though, Caroline is too full of plans and spite to worry over what that zing she feels between them means.

Klaus is fond of endearments. And he uses them.

A lot.

They tend to be ridiculous at best, his pet names, downright inappropriate at worst. And he knows it. Designs it so, his grin stretching wider at the edges while he gauges her reaction to his latest assignations.

They slide off his tongue freely, suggestively, relentlessly, until they’re an avalanche of “love,” “queenie,” “venomous cupcake,” “Care-ella de Ville” monikers that fly in her direction more often than not as they go toe-to-toe over some work issue or find themselves cloistered together in the Brainstorm Wing, alone, far too long to be considered tolerable.

He talks and teases. She mostly ignores it because she’s focused, determined - a freaking whiz at professionalism - though he does win a scoff every now and again over their electronics.

That’s simply the way it is between them. How it’s always been.

Occasionally Caroline will threaten to set his pants on fire or will offer to drown him in his most expensive bottle of bourbon for extra measure. Anything to shut him up. Anything to curb his persistent interruptions whenever they’re up to their elbows in files, arguing, warding off a loss before an important meeting or a deadline. But it never works. It never sticks.

Seriously, nothing phases him.

The man is either impervious to rebuff of any sort or his encouragement hinges on the one stupid traitorous blush (one!) that seems to accompany any glare Caroline fires in his direction. (A weakness she’s more than desperate to delete from her physiology.) His audacity is incredible to witness in person. Absolutely incredible.

Suspicion rankles in her gut because it’s as if Klaus has no other targets even when there are other associates present, which doesn’t make sense. It’s just her. Just this. Just endless time and opportunity to pun her to death.

Talk about sucks!

Can’t someone else be his designated prey instead? Why her? Why now? How’d she get to be so unlucky as to have to put up with him all the time?

Rifling through documents one evening in late November, forced to work in tandem per their boss and CEO, Elijah’s, request, the two of them nibble on Chinese takeout and work. Bicker. Pour over contracts. Plot strategy in the B-wing late into the morning hours.

“I know you’re loath to admit it, sunshine,” Klaus says with a yawn after they concoct a one-two punch right as the clock strikes three; it’s a killer solution on all fronts, “but you and I are good together. We make a formidable team.”

“Oh, stop with that.”

“Stop with what?”

“You know it annoys me,” she frowns. “Come on.”

“Annoys you? It was an observation, Caroline. I was under the impression those weren’t illegal.”

Tossing her iPad and color-coded notes aside, she runs a lazy hand through her hair before leveling him with a look, “I wasn’t talking about the team comment and you know it.”

“Weren’t you?”

“No.”

“Pity,” Klaus says with a sigh and a stretch, raking her over while amusement dances in his rimmed eyes. “I’d hoped we were on the same page for once.”

“Well, we’re not.”

“Clearly.”

“An apology would be welcome at this juncture, you know. I’m open to hearing one,” she suggests.

“An apology?” Caroline waits. Taps her monogrammed company pen on the table’s ledge. He smirks before unhooking another button at his collar and angles closer. “For what?”

With a huff, “We’ve talked about this and you can’t just—how dare you keep—I—”

“Yes?” Klaus doesn’t say it but another endearment hangs from his smirking lips. It waits to shoot her way any second. “Go on then. State your grievance with me.”

“There’s no point.”

“Why’s that?”

“You already know what it is,” she says.

“Do I now?”

Growing perturbed, she ignores the flutter in her belly under this intense scrutiny, his expression a mixture of steady, sarcastic, and softly admiring. “This whole conversation is ridiculous!”

“Fair point. Though, personally, I disagree.”

“You…” she says, fighting back a blush and a laugh then shaking her head, “you are the actual worst.”

“Funny. That almost sounds like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant as one.”

“Perhaps not, sunshine,” he dimples, slumping back casually before interlocking his fingers behind his head, and sighs, “but I’ll take it as such anyway. Just this once.”

Caroline scowls. Flattens her lips. Mumbles something about “endearment harassment.” Resists another blush as well as the urge to strangle him before the paperwork for this deal is done.

Instead she decides to re-send him the Merriam Webster definitions of impertinent and dickhead from her phone again—you know, for clarity’s sake. Then she asks demurely, all eyelashes, her hands folded flat, if Satan has happened to set the date for his coronation into hell yet.

“Why?” Leaning over the armrest with his chair wheels squeaking against the floor, Klaus is all cheek and attentiveness and spicy cologne. “Care to be my escort for the big event?” he says without missing a beat.

With a snort, “In your dreams, Mikaelson. But so help me, if you don’t knock it off and focus so we can finish preparing for this meeting tomorrow, then I promise I’ll find a way for the devil to come and collect you early himself. Got it?”

“Sure thing,” he nods. “Can’t have you wanting to push me off the roof later now, can I?”

“Who’s to say I’m not already tempted?” Caroline mumbles.

He swivels to face her, all levity, with one eyebrow raised. Meanwhile she focuses on organizing their files into separate stacks. “Are you?” he says.

Shrugging, “I wouldn’t push it any further if I were you. Better to be silent but productive than flippant and airborne, don’t you think?”

A chuckle. A soft press of his palm over her wrist.

“Well played, love. I don’t know if hearing that leaves me feeling more wounded or paranoid, but…well played.”

Warm, certain, Klaus’s touch lingers far too long after he draws away.

—Archived Twitter messages from FIERCE AND WE KNOW IT SQUAD group chat on December 5th, 10:42 P.M.

thiskatRAWRS : i said find his celebrity doppelgänger for us, caroline. wtf !!

crowned caroline: i did

thiskatRAWRS: no, you defected. like a coward

crowned caroline: did not!

thiskatRAWRS: did too

thiskatRAWRS: besides, i think we both know there’s a better selection to be had here

enzobites: oh - this outta be good, lusty (or is it katTHRUSTY now?)

thiskatRAWRS: *middle finger emoji*

crowned caroline: ugh. don’t provoke her, okay?

enzobites: bugger me for wondering at Elijah’s reaction to his ladylove’s ranking + assessment

enzobites: of

enzobites: his

enzobites: younger

enzobites: brother’s

enzobites: sex

enzobites: appeal

thiskatRAWRS: i still have eyes, don’t i? just gotta keep my hands to myself. not that it’s anyone’s business but mine and Elijah’s if i do or do not 😼

enzobites: …and you wonder why you were reassigned from HR, love

thiskatRAWRS: *double middle finger emoji*

bonnie-b-is-me: Kat told me Klaus has an up-to-no-good Jude Law look about him. is that semi-accurate, Care?

bonnie-b-is-me: (me = works elsewhere = totes out of loop) :(

crowned caroline: nope

crowned caroline: i stand by my original choice

bonnie-b-is-me: which was?

crowned caroline: *inserts internet meme*

bonnie-b-is-me: 😯

enzobites: wut…why Grumpy Cat?

thiskatRAWRS: i told you ^^^ doesn’t count, pick a human

crowned caroline: but the resemblance is astounding! it’s uncanny, really

crowned caroline: look here, i’ll prove it further: *inserts another three memes, one with a side-by-side photo comparison*

enzobites: wicked Santa hat there, Klausy

bonnie-b-is-me: lmao

crowned caroline: Klaus is literally Grumpy Cat in human form bc 1) he’s surly 2) he’s miserable and repressed af 3) he’s one explosive hiss away from taking another corporate life at all times

bonnie-b-is-me: so let him be known, 4eva more, as Grumpy Corporate Klaus

enzobites: i dig it

enzobites: GCK ftw then, yea? ;)

crowned caroline: 👍🏼

thiskatRAWRS: sorry, but all i’m getting from care’s explanation is “overlooked sex kitten” vibes. so if that’s how you view Klaus then idk how to break this to you, girl, but…

enzobites: BOW CHICKA WOW WOW

thiskatRAWRS: exactly !! one of them is gonna pounce on the other before long—ruffled feathers and all of that meowww

bonnie-b-is-me: bets, anyone?

enzobites: count me in, gorgeous ;)

thiskatRAWRS: ditto

crowned caroline: OMG SHUT UP ALL OF YOU

bonnie-b-is-me: did either of you hear something?

thiskatRAWRS: sounds like denial chirping to me

enzobites: or uh…hate could be their preferred foreplay

crowned caroline: THIS ISN’T FUNNY

bonnie-b-is-me: wouldn’t be the first time

thiskatRAWRS: and def not the last !!

bonnie-b-is-me: *inserts YouTube link to “Dangerous Woman” by Ariana Grande*

crowned caroline: WHERE IS THIS COMING FROM??? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS, WTF

thiskatRAWRS: *inserts “You Can’t Handle the Truth” gif*

enzobites: from the way Klaus verbally paws at Blondie here in the office, to the longing look in his eyes when she speaks (or flirts) with any good-looking bloke who isn’t him, i wager it’s only a matter of time before—

crowned caroline has left the chat

A natural curiosity is there, of course. Call it a fatal flaw. A susceptibility. Whatever.

She’s only human.

No use in haranguing her about it forever, you know?

It’s a passing thought or two when the workload is mounting, when Caroline’s eyes blur numbers into scratchy colors of highlighter and her days are spun into spools of navy blue suits and unsigned contracts and poorly worded emails and coffee cart lattes plus beignets which she needs to keep her standing upright for another few hours or else she’ll peter out mid-sentence, toppling into the nearest chair; only to then find what she craves deposited, like a gift from the gods, onto her desk the exact instant she feels herself deflating into putty. No evidence at all that someone had been there. Not an item out of place. No note attached anywhere.

There’s also that prickle against the base of her neck sometimes. A tingle of awareness that tells her Klaus is either close by or he’s peering at her through the glass walls again, idly. Watching her with some soft and introspective intensity Caroline doesn’t understand let alone question thoroughly.

It’s a collection of moments.

Looks.

Coincidences.

Things that happen by accident because their schedules align - because, for example, they’re seated side-by-side on their way to the New Orleans airport one afternoon to catch a flight back home after closing Gerard Enterprises when the car swerves. The driver’s caught in a blast of turbulent traffic, and without thinking, she crosses the invisible boundary between them to curl against his side, her fingers fisting in his unworn seatbelt. Her head tucks against his clavicle, her eyelashes flicking over the buttons on his shirt. Their breaths heavy but in time.

“Are you alright, love? Are you hurt?” Klaus asks, his mouth burring like an ember against her crown of golden hair.

“I’m okay,” she breathes. In then out. In then out. “Just a little toppled and caught unawares is all,” she adds as his pulse slows beneath her ear, his hand hot on her bicep. “You?”

“Heart in my stomach, woman in my arms, so otherwise fine.”

“Good.”

“Yes - quite.”

Then there are the private conversations Caroline overhears. Like the one where he informs a slimy potential de Martel client the two of them are “a package deal” and that she is “not one to be trifled with, disrespected, or undervalued.” Or another where he confesses to his sister, Rebekah, that they’d “be bloody lost without her here.”

It’s how, any time they cross the street together, Klaus’s hand presses against the small of her back as if he wishes to offer another layer of protection. Almost like it belongs there.

It’s when, after a bout of flu descends like a hammer, leaving her phlegmy, feverish for days, and unable to work, a knock sounds at her door to reveal him standing on the other side. Looking sheepish, a shopping bag full of get well tea and medicinal items hangs from one of his arms while chicken noodle soup is Tupperwared in the other. To top it all off a fresh bouquet of sunflowers perches in the crook of his elbow, which he places in a vase with water before he leaves so she can rest. So she can recover her strength and faculties.

And even though everyone at the office whispers that Klaus only cares about himself, and about what comforts he can afford, Caroline knows he pays the secretaries’ bonuses directly out of his own pocket. He also offers use of his car service when the hour is late or the weather gets too dicey to walk to the subway, so he can’t possibly be that awful, can he? Can he?

These passing thoughts accrue over days, hours, weeks, to leave an imprint large enough to make her wonder. To have her questioning their so-called triviality.

Caroline hates to think it but - freaking hell - what if her friends are right? Is the in like vs. in spite line between her and Klaus really that thin, or is she only now realizing to admit so will change everything in ways she cannot begin to fathom?

Swipe left to descend into Emoville✔️

Swipe right for Distraction City✔️

(Both options suck equally for her, as it turns out.) (So she guilts Enzo into paying for drinks for the next three Saturdays and processes in true Forbes fashion: with lists a’plenty.)

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction #it's been 84 years #since i last wrote for them #let's hope it's not 84 more #before i do again #ashlee bree's writing endeavors #ashlee bree's edits

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the-truest-sentence-i-know · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Seventeen | The Return

Fandom: Disney’s Descendants

Summary: Quinn Little, raised in Auradon by Little John, finds out that her heritage is not what she thought it was. When Little John tells her that her real father was a villain, she must go on a journey of self-discovery that will bring her to all the forbidden places in the United States of Auradon.

Pre-canon & canon compliant to the first Descendants film.

Word Count: 2.7k | 17/23

ao3 ||| ff.net ||| wattpad ||| quotev

Jax, Saoirse, Jukes, Cyrus, and Quinn sat around the table in Jax’s cabin and Quinn recounted how she got to the Isle in as much detail as she could. When she had finished, they all sat in silence for a few moments and she could not help but remember Mark’s warning: getting back will be a lot harder.

“Well, getting into the harbour area will be much harder now; Maleficent has upped security since…” Jukes trailed off, but Harper’s name echoed in the silence. “But she doesn’t know about our secret entrance.”

“Yet,” Cyrus amended. “We should do this as quickly as we can because it’s bound to be discovered sooner or later.”

Jax nodded. “You can use the tunnel, we can cause a distraction. How you get on the ship will be on you.”

“This Mark fellow,” Saoirse said. “He will be able to help you from the other side?”

“Only if we get a message to him somehow, then he could cause a distraction on his end,” Quinn agreed.

“What about that kid who caused a power outage in Auradon City for half an hour?” Cyrus asked. “He might have the tech.”

“The de Vil kid?” Jukes said. “He’d probably be able to send a message, but I don’t think he would do it or keep his mouth shut about it.”

“Carlos de Vil?” Quinn asked and they nodded. “He might for me.” They all looked at her in surprise and she shrugged. “He owes me a favour.”

“You want me to send this message to this cell number in Auradon?” Carlos asked. “And not tell anyone?”

Quinn and Jax nodded. They sat in the back of Jafar’s Bargain Shop, where Carlos had a box of electronic trinkets, which he fiddled with as they discussed the plan.

“Do you know how many people would love to send messages to Auradon? How much money I could make if they knew I could do it?”

“We’re not saying you can’t tell anyone you can send messages, just not about this specific message,” Quinn insisted.

Carlos regarded them both, considering it for only a moment before nodding. “Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

And so it was sent out: “I’m coming back. Next Saturday. Need a distraction. Down with John.”

“Down with John?” Jax asked.

“So he knows it’s me,” Quinn said. “It’s a thing the Merry Men used to say.”

Time moved more quickly than Quinn wanted. In the flurry of preparation, she managed to pull Cai aside and tell him everything she could remember from her first aid classes. In the weeks he had spent by her side caring for the sick, he had kind of become her protégé.

The kids were on their way toward recovery, and their quarantining had meant no one had fallen ill since Corinna. She was also doing much better and although they told her it was not her fault that harper died, Quinn could tell she felt guilty about it. No one in any other gang had died of whooping cough that they knew of, so there was hope that this year’s cases were not as serious.

She and Jukes got a drink the day before, sitting at a table in the back rather than their normal spot at the bar so they would not be overheard.

“What do you think you’ll miss the most about this place?” Jukes asked.

Quinn thought for a moment, then grinned. “Being able to drink, obviously.” She held up her beer. “I’ll have to wait another year to be allowed in Auradon.”

“Damn,” Jukes said, clinking their bottle with Quinn’s. “It’ll be rough.”

Quinn smiled. “But seriously, I’ll miss the people: the whole Crew, you, Nia, Nabil, Hugo, Clove –”

“Jax,” Jukes interrupted teasingly.

“Yes,” Quinn said, smile soft. “And the little Powder Monkeys: Jade, Corinna –” There it was again. Harper.

“We’re all going to miss Harper,” Jukes said quietly.

Quinn nodded. “I’m doing this for him as much as every other kid on this island.”

“To Harper,” Jukes said, raising their bottle. “May we all be willing to do anything to save our friends.”

“To Harper,” Quinn echoed.

•••

Crewmembers were stationed all around the edges of the harbour with fireworks they would ‘lose control of’ as soon as they saw the signal. Jax and Quinn stood at the end of the tunnel that led into the warehouse nearest the water. Quinn had said her goodbyes to everyone but Jax and knew she could not stall any longer.

“In a few minutes, you have to start down the tunnel. Then I’ll wait five minutes before I signal the others,” Jax explained, even though they had gone over the plan about a million times before. “The fireworks should give you about ten minutes, so you have to move quickly.”

“I know, Jax,” she said.

“Do you have everything?” he asked.

“Dagger, sword,” she said, patting the hilts on her belt respectively.

“And do you have –”

“Jax,” Quinn interrupted. “I have everything I need; I checked like five times before we left.” She took his hands in hers. “It’ll be fine.”

“Hey, blind arrogance is my thing.”

Quinn smiled. God, she would miss him. “Not blind arrogance,” Quinn said. “Confidence, in both myself and the Crew.” She took a breath. “I guess we have to say goodbye now.”

“Not goodbye. More like, see you later,” Jax amended.

“We don’t know how much later it’s gonna be,” Quinn said. “I’m gonna miss you.”

He grinned. “Who wouldn’t?” His face turned more serious. “I love you and I believe you can do this.”

Quinn smiled. “I love you too.” And when he kissed her, all she could think was how much she hoped that he was right and that this would not be their last time together.

And then it was go-time. A quick hand squeeze, a sharp nod, and she was off down the tunnel, watch on her wrist counting down the five minutes. She had only been down the tunnel once before since supply runs were not her usual detail, but Saoirse had drawn a detailed map of the warehouse and Jukes had taken her up to a tall building nearby, from where they could see the layout of the harbour.

In two minutes, she had reached the end of the tunnel and listened for a moment to make sure no one was on the other side before removing the plank of wood that covered the hole. The warehouse was dimly lit, but her eyes were already accustomed to the darkness of the tunnel. She put the wood back over the entrance of the tunnel – marvelling how well it blended into the wall – before surveying the warehouse. According to Saoirse’s map, there was a side door that led to a narrow walkway that the ship would pass by as it left for Auradon. She would have to get on board while it moved past.

Quinn slunk between stacks of crates and piles of burlap sacks, a hand of the hilt of her sword. Just as she spotted the door, she heard footsteps and wedged herself between two crates. The stops grew louder and Quinn barely dared to breathe as a troll passed right by her hiding place. She did not move until his footsteps retreated so far that she could no longer hear them. She looked down at her watch; the distraction would start in less than a minute, meaning the ship would be passing by soon.

She peered out of her hiding place and – seeing no one – scampered for the door. As her hand touched the handle, she heard the first of the fireworks go off. She heard trolls roaring and running in the direction of the sound. She tugged the door open and stepped out into a narrow wooden walkway, letting the door close behind her.

The planks creaked under her weight and for a terrifying moment, Quinn was afraid they might collapse, but they held. She heard the roar of the ship’s engine and looked to her right. It was not moving too quickly yet, having just cast off, but Quinn knew she only had about a minute to plan her way onto it.

She regarded the churning of the water around the hull apprehensively. There was no way she could get on from the water; she would be pulled under. There were three sets of ladders attached to the side of the ship – one in the front, one in the middle, and one near the back. She would just have to hope she could make the jump.

If anyone was up on the bridge, they would see her on the first two, which left only the third ladder. She would only have one chance at this.

Fortunately, it was not the first time she had done something like this. All the Sherwood kids had basically grown up in the trees, so regular old tree climbing grew boring. To entertain themselves, they had to think up more and more interesting ways to get through the trees every summer; they also got more and more dangerous, until someone fell, and they all got in trouble.

One summer, it was tree-hopping. Sam Scarlett – one of the eldest Sherwood kids, and also the most daring – had started it. In the beginning, they would just make short jumps between close branches, but of course, the distances got farther and farther, with fully planned out courses and routes to get from place to place the fastest. By July, they had figured out a way to bend branches to fling people even further.

Quinn had joined in enthusiastically and though she was never able to jump quite as far as the older kids, her size was to her advantage for tree-flinging however, since she could go farther than the others. She had been just too young to grasp the danger, so there was nothing quite like flying through the air, arms outstretched for a tree branch barrelling towards you.

Unfortunately, one day Marian saw her flying through the air and put an end to it all – although a lot of kids still used the tree-hopping routes to get places faster.

But now, she saw the danger. It was a long way down to the water, which whirled threateningly beside the ship. Quinn watched anxiously as she watched the first and second ladders bass by. The figures in the bridge seemed to pay her no mind, just a VK hanging around the harbour. The bridge passed by and Quinn prepared for the jump.

The ship had started to turn, the bow curving away from the side, which brought the stern closer. Quinn bounced on the balls of her feet as it neared.

When the ladder was nearly across from her, she jumped, arms out. She hit the side with a louder bang than she had expected, a rung knocking the wind out of her. She managed to hold onto a rung, knuckles paling as she found a foothold.

Gasping in a few breaths, she hurried up the ladder and hopped onto the deck quietly. Through the fireworks that were still going off, she thought she might have heard a triumphant whoop.

She ran, half-crouched, down the deck until she found a door to the hold. Before she went down, she looked back at the Isle, which looked very much the same as it did when she first arrived over a year ago on this same ship. Nothing had really changed about the island, but she saw it differently now. There was Jukes’s favourite outlook spot, the clocktower of Frollo’s chapel, and she could just see the mast of the Jolly Roger.

And of course, she was different – in so many ways she did not want to think about it right now.

So, with a last look back, then a glance at the approaching lights of Auradon, Quinn slipped into the hold.

•••

Mark’s diversion of dogs, cats, and rats, stampeding the harbour worked remarkably well. Quinn – clad in the loose pants, shirt, and cap from her previous crossing – was able to slip off the ship unnoticed. At the edge of the nearby clump of forest where she had said goodbye to Mark, she waited in the dark, eyes peeled.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and in a moment her sword was out, flashing in the moonlight.

“Hey, it’s me!” Mark exclaimed, stepping back quickly. “Don’t decapitate me.”

Quinn breathed a sigh of relief, sheathing her sword before hugging him. “It’s good to see you, Mark.”

“I’m just glad you got over okay,” Mark said. He held her at an arm’s distance. “You look different, stronger.” He noticed a scar on her arm and raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that’s old,” Quinn said quickly. “And of course I look different, it has been a year.”

“Well over a year,” Mark said. “I was starting to worry you’d never come back.”

If not for the quick succession of whooping cough and Harper’s death, she probably would not have, Quinn realized guiltily. “So, did you train all those small animals for just such an occasion.”

“No,” he said with a grin, leading her to a clump of bushes where she saw the silhouettes of two horses waiting for them. “You remember Peggy Piper from school?” She nodded. “Well, I suggested it might be fun to collect the small animals from the area and lead them on a tour around Auradon City. It just so happened that the route passed through the shipyards at the right time.”

“What a happy coincidence,” Quinn said with a smile.

They had reached the horses and Quinn immediately recognized one as her own. “Onyx!” she exclaimed. “Hey, buddy.” She stroked his velvety nose and buried her face in his mane.

“We could probably get going before anyone investigates where the animals came from,” said Mark.

They mounted their horses and disappeared into the night.

•••

“So, why did you decide to come back?” Mark finally asked. “Life on the Isle didn’t suit you?”

“It did, it’s just...” Quinn sighed. “the kids there need help.” She looked at him. “And I can help them more from over here than over there.”

Mark shook his head. “How can you help them from here?”

“I don’t have a full plan yet, but I want to change the public perception of VKs, and eventually get them the help and resources they need.”

“Like what?”

“Like actual medical care, for a start,” Quinn said. She paused for a long moment, the only sound being the horses’ hooves on the gravel road. “How’s my dad?” Quinn asked finally.

“He’s holding up,” said Mark. “He’s worried for sure, and he blames himself for you leaving.”

Quinn sighed. “I know that leaving was kind of selfish, but maybe now something good will come out of it, with the VKs.”

The sun began to rise as they entered Sherwood Forest and Quinn breathed in deeply. She had missed the scent of the dirt and leaves and grass and pine needles so much. She closed her eyes, hearing the leaves rustle in the slight breeze and the soft thumps of the horses’ hooves on the path.

Quinn heard a twig snap somewhere to the right and her eyes snapped open, hand automatically reaching for the dagger on her belt.

“Quinn?” Mark looked concerned. “What is it?”

Frowning, Quinn shook her head. You’re safe here, she told herself, but that did not relax her very much. “Nothing,” she said, looking straight ahead again. “It’s fine.”

She knew that he was still looking at her worriedly, but ignored it. Maybe she had changed more than she realized.

They neared the village and Quinn spurred Onyx to a gallop, skidding to a halt in front of the tree that held their home.

Home.

“Dad?” Quinn called as she jumped off and sprinted towards the house. “Dad, I’m back!”

The door was open by the time she got there and Quinn threw her arms around Dad’s neck before he had a chance to say anything.

He held onto her tight. “You’re safe,” he breathed. “Thank goodness you’re safe.”

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nightwingshero · 5 years ago

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So, I’ve been working on a little something this week, and thought I would post it on here. My love for John and Wren never ends, not gonna lie. This was just an idea that wouldn’t go away until I wrote it out. This is part one out of three. Yay!

I had been sitting in my car for the past ten minutes, contemplating. Rowan insisted that I at least try. She had been dressing a deer that she killed with Jacob Seed that morning. I needed to get out more, meet the people of Hope County. Maybe break the 3-year dry spell. I had scoffed and smacked her shoulder for that one. I knew some people, meeting them on the job or when I went out with Rowan or my coworkers. Others, I just saw in passing. The lawyer that would come to the jail dressed in nice, expensive suits came to mind. Pratt and Hudson swearing they couldn’t stand him half of the time, despite Nancy absolutely fawning over him any chance she got. I eyed the entrance one more time, as I bit down on my thumbnail. What was the worst that could happen, right?

Sighing, I pushed my jeep door open, my boots hitting the ground with a slight thud against the cool gravel. I pulled my crossbody purse out before slamming the door. I crossed the street quickly, looking both ways as I went. The air was chilly against my bare legs, ruffling the navy-blue dress just a little. I pulled my jean jacket tighter as I walked across the front porch of the Spread Eagle. Just as I opened the door, an older man with glasses staggered out, cursing under his breath. Bumping into my shoulder on his way past, he threw me a dirty look.

“Watch it.” He mumbled; the smell of cigar smoke strong on his breath. I wrinkled my nose I finally took a step inside. Country and rock music were always going in this bar, appeasing the culture of Hope County. I played with the strap of my purse as I scanned the room. She said he would be wearing a green t-shirt and jeans; he was a park ranger Rowan had said. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Hard to miss. But I bit my lip as I suddenly came up empty. Guess I was the first to arrive.

I swallowed and shifted uneasily as a few people closer to me stared at me. Desperately I searched the bar, looking for an empty seat I could run to. Sighing in relief, I spotted one next to a somewhat familiar figure, no one I could really name. Ducking my head down only slightly, allowing my curled hair to create a curtain as I made my way to the seat. I gave a quick glance to my left as I took my jacket off to hang it on the back of the barstool, trying to get a better look at who I was sitting next to.

He was leaned back against the back of the barstool, the sleeves of his button up rolled to his elbows. A few buttons unbuttoned, showing off the beginning of what I assumed to be a toned chest, if the hard lines were at all telling. Dark tattoos covered his arm, all the way down to the fingers that played with the glass of scotch in front of him. He honestly looked exhausted and that’s when it hit me.

I almost laugh, think or speak of the devil, and he will appear. I never got to talk to him, he was always dealing with Hudson or Pratt, even Whitehorse most of the time. He had been at the jail earlier, arguing with Hudson over Sharky Boshaw. I couldn’t tell what it was over, but I remembered how worked up Hudson had been for the rest of the day because he had ended up getting his way. I had also caught the roll of his eyes when Sharky had cheered and thanked him, clapping him on the back on their way out. I settled, pulling my purse to the side, and Mary May smiled at me.

“Sorry about Dutch there, Deputy. Just a rough night. You know how it is.” She called.

I laughed lightly and waved her off. “It’s fine. No harm done.”

“Looking good tonight.” She said as she turned, wiping something down in front of me before slinging the towel on her shoulder. “No Rowan or Joey tonight? I was half expecting y’all to be having a girl’s night with you looking all done up like that.”

“No Rowan or Hudson tonight.” I answered. I liked Mary May. I met her the first time I went out with the rest of the deputies in my department. We hit it off quickly, becoming fast friends.

“Alrighty then, what can I get you, hun?”

I leaned in, my fingers playing with the silver airplane pendant necklace that rested low against my chest. “Can I just have a glass of Moscato? I’m not a big fan of beer, to be honest.”

Mary May threw her head back and laughed. “That’s because Pratt ordered you the wrong kind. He’s not known for his taste, dep. But yeah, I got you. Give me a second.”

“Thank you.” I replied with a soft smile. I shifted in my seat as I did another scan of the place. He was late and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to show up at all. I sighed as I continued to fidget with the necklace anxiously. I felt eyes on me though, and I turn to my left to see the man next to me already staring. Usually, when people would get caught staring, they would avert their eyes in shame and embarrassment. But not this guy, no. There was nothing shy about him, nothing apologetic in his curious gaze. I couldn’t tell if that creeped me out or if I respected him more for it, but there wasn’t an ounce of shame in his demeanor. I had no doubt in my mind that he knew exactly who I was, though. In this small town, word got around fast and everyone had been a buzz about the new addition to the police force in town.

I turned and blushed. I wasn’t used to getting attention from someone like him, and it was way more intimidating than I cared to admit, my stomach filled with butterflies. The sound of Mary May setting my wineglass down drew my attention, and I gave another small thank you as my fingers found the stem. I could hear the door open over the music and talking, and I glanced over my shoulder to see the person I had been waiting on. He had broad shoulders; his blonde hair swept a bit to the side. His eyes caught mine, and he smiled as he began to strut his way over. I was shocked a bit by how he carried himself, whether it was confidence or arrogance, I wasn’t sure. I hoped for the former, though.

He leaned against the bar next to me, his finger pointing to me questioningly. “Wendy, right?”

“Wren.” I corrected. He gave a quick nod as she smiled sheepishly. I didn’t get it very often, but it did happen enough that I was used to people getting it wrong on the first try.

“Right. Sorry.” He looked over his shoulder as he gave a wave to Mary May. “Hey Fairgrave, can I get a Coors Light?” He stuck his hand out in offering when he turned back. “Trey.”

I took his hesitantly and unsure. I didn’t remember ever shaking someone’s hand on a first date, but it had been so long. What did I know? “It’s…nice to meet you.” I smile at him, thinking it would put me more at ease. I needed to force myself to try to have fun, to actually try and get to know this guy.

He smirked in return and as Mary set his bottle down, his eyes immediately eyed her chest before he threw her a smile. I frowned a bit, only catching Mary’s eyes briefly to see the slight irritation there. A slight clearing of someone’s throat from behind me reminded me to that it was just one date, that I could let it slide. It could be way worse.

And boy did it get worse. It had started out fine, a little talk about Rowan and Eli, the very well-known Palmer siblings of Hope County. He fished with Eli every now and then, while I had met Rowan when she called in from a flat tire. He started to talk about what he did for a living, which led to me talking about my new position. I guess, in a way, we should have bonded over that, or maybe that was what Rowan was hoping would happen. But the more he talked, the more I listened. Suddenly I was learning everything that he could do, the things he had done, and I heard him tell me that he could “definitely show me around this county” at least five times. It was official: I was bored.

“I’m telling you, it’s one helluva truck. Most people have a hard time getting in it. Diesel, too. Nice and loud.”

“That sounds so cool.” I said, again, forcing another smile. He got excited, and he swatted my arm with the back of his hand. I flinched only a bit at the act, the sharp sting making me jump, not appreciating him touching me like that as the sound of it rang out. A glass next to me knocked hard against the wood bar, echoing in the bar from the force of being set down heavily, but Trey wasn’t done.

“You bet your ass it is.” He slung his arm around my shoulders as he gave me a sloppy smirk. “And I would love to show you. I think you would like it, baby girl. Such a smooth ride.”

I immediately fought the urge to gag or punch this guy in the face as I heard a scoff, a taunting laugh of pure disbelief from behind me. My eyes widened as I blushed. “Sounds like it.” I replied with an awkward giggle, hoping he hadn’t heard. I’d seen enough bar fights in my time to know that this could easily start one if Trey was feeling a certain way. That wasn’t how I wanted to spend my night off. Mary May sent me a look, watching closely just in case, but I smiled reassuringly at her. “What color is it?” I asked as I pretended to shift to get more comfortable, moving my shoulders out of his touch just as Trey turned to order another drink. Fingers brushed against my arm lightly as I moved to my left, and I turned to see the man still leaning back but with his arm perched up against the back of the chair. His brow was raised with his blue eyes were dark, and I knew that I had accidently bumped into him trying to get away from Trey, forcing myself into his space. I mumbled a quick sorry as I looked down, face red from pure embarrassment.

“It’s silver, all chromed out.” He said without looking at me, throwing a smile at Mary May. I rolled my eyes as I took another sip of my wine, trying hard to hold my emotions in.

“I bet you have a lot of fun taking it out mudding and stuff, right?” I set my glass down, my composure back in place. His head jerked in my direction as he crinkled his nose in disgust.

“Why the hell would I do that? You have any idea of how much that thing costs?”

I frowned in return, taken aback at the sudden hostility. “I mean, what’s the point of having all those add-ons if you don’t—”

He just waved me off as he shook his head. “No, its fine. I get it, you’re not used to having that kind of money for things like that. Most girls don’t get trucks, anyway. But I think you can appreciate not playing in the mud and getting dirty, right?” He threw me a wink and my jaw ticked as he took another swig of his beer. My fingers caressed the pendant as my other hand drummed along with the music playing, doing everything I could to talk myself off the ledge.

He straightened up as he set his beer down. “I gotta take a piss.” He turned to me with a smile. “You stay right here and stay beautiful until I get back, alright baby girl?” He clicked his tongue with a wink as he tapped a hooked finger under my chin. I nod and try to smile without venom. I was going to murder Rowan the next time I saw her. I watched as he walked away, shocked by the sheer audacity of him. I tried taking a calming breath through my nose. He was buying me drinks and I had promised Rowan I would give him a chance, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t end it early. Honestly, I was doing Rowan a favor not punching him in the face. No, I thought to myself, just smile and get through it. You’ll be fine, and then you don’t ever have to see him again. Smile and pretend.

“Are you serious?” a deep voice asked, a laugh ringing in his tone, making my heart race just a little bit. I swallowed as I turned back around, confused and irritated.

“Excuse me?” I breathed out, the irritation from his comment and everything else finally pushing me to my breaking point. His eyes are piercing, something burning in them that I couldn’t name, but I knew. I knew from how he raises his brow that he can see right through me. He can see through the act, the forced politeness that had been drilled into me since a child. It only pissed me off more.

“You always pretend to be something you’re not?” he asked genuinely, only a hint of the dark taunting in his honey voice as he calls me out.

“You don’t know me.” I snapped. It came out harsher than I intended, and I honestly didn’t know why him saying these things were what pushed me this far. I had dealt with Trey’s passes and sexist comments all evening. Why was I letting this guy get under my skin?

He only hummed in response as he finished the rest of the newest glass of scotch he was working on. My eyes followed the way his tongue darted out, licking his lips for just a second as his tattooed fingers ran over his beard before speaking again. “I know enough to say that that little thing you got going on there?” he pointed, glass still in hand, to where Trey was originally. “That’s not what you really want.” I stare at him as he sets his glass down and rises. He threw bills on the bar as he waved to Mary May with a smile and gaining one in return. “No, Deputy, you strike me as a woman who likes to be treated well by a gentleman, an actual man who asks before touching you or maybe knows better than to use my truck as a way to insinuate us fucking in it.”

My head snaps forward as he turns to grab his coat, my face dark red from mortification, realizing that he had heard everything these past few hours. I squeezed my eyes shut at the absolute shame of letting Trey say some of the things he had. I was never good at standing up to men, and I had my father to thank for that. I opened my eyes to glare at my glass as he scoffed. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as he placed his hand on the back of my chair, leaning in just close enough for me smell his expensive cologne, reminding me of sandalwood. I fought the urge to turn and bury my face against him.

He wasn’t invading my space, but god, was I aware of him. His body radiating heat, the edges of his coat caressing lightly against my arm, I couldn’t focus. “But you know that already, don’t you? You already know what you want. If not, then maybe you can realize it sooner rather than later.” His voice was almost a whisper as he spoke, holding a gentleness that wasn’t there before. “Maybe you’ll get a different perspective now; I surely hope so. Because that? No one deserves to be treated like that. And if you do know, like I believe you do, well…when you’re done pretending so people will like you, when you’re done being his ‘baby girl’, give me a call. Because I can show you around, no problem. But I’m going to ask you where you are from and what your favorite food is, instead of telling you how big my truck is.” He sighed, a light breath leaving his lips. “Ask him what your name is, darling.” He whispered oh so softly, the empathy almost bringing tears to my eyes. “Just ask. Humor me, and if I’m wrong, I’ll apologize. But if he doesn’t…well, I think I’ve proven my point. Ask him what your name is, Wren.”

I breathed out as he let go, walking away. My eyes were wide, my brain short circuiting. I gave it a few seconds before I was turning, seeing if he was really gone. Sure enough, he was nowhere to be seen, disappearing as if he was never there in the first place. The urge to run after him was so strong, that I went to grab my purse, but froze when I heard his voice.

“I’m back, baby girl. Now, where were we?” Trey asked as he leaned against the bar. He started to run his fingers up my arm, throwing me a smirk. “I think we’re done here, don’t you? Let’s get out of here, go back to my place. What do you say?”

“What’s my name?” I asked impulsively, not even thinking. I knew deep down that I wasn’t really interested in this guy, that I was only here because I didn’t have the nerve to walk out. I didn’t want to piss Rowan off or make a scene. But deep down, I wanted to know. I wanted to test his theory and see if I could actually prove him wrong. To at least prove that this hadn’t been a total waste of my time.

Trey frowned, caught off guard. “What does that have to do with anything? It’s Wendy.”

I scoffed before downing the rest of my wine, then setting the glass back down. He caressed my arm and my hand darted out, grabbing his wrist. “Don’t touch me.” I reply, all the fake smiles now gone as I eyed him.

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?”

“Oh honey, I am so not your baby girl.” I replied with a scoff. He rolled his eyes.

“Well, are you going home with me or not?”

I looked at him with absolute disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I breathed out. “No! I’m not going to your fucking house. You’re an asshole, you know that? You’ve been nothing but rude and disrespectful. And just a little fucking note for you, girls love mudding, we don’t mind mud. You wanna know what we mind? Misogynistic assholes with small dicks who depend on their daddy’s money for a truck they don’t know how to drive in the first place.”

He just shrugged. “And you’re a bitch and a fucking tease, but here we are. I’m out, I can’t deal with this crazy shit.” He sat up to leave, but he turned to me. “Oh, I forgot my wallet. You got this, right?”

“Oh, my g—yes, I got it.” I yanked my purse towards me as he left. “Classy. Very fucking classy.” I muttered under my breath. Mary May leaned forward as I pulled my card out, but she waved me off.

“Don’t worry about it.” She said with a shake of her head. I sighed as I leaned my head to the side.

“Dude, I so don’t need you to cover my drinks out of pity right now. Please let me pay. My pride can’t handle that right now.”

She just laughed. “Oh, no. That’s not at all what I meant. Bad date or not, you’re paying.” She winked at me as I laughed with her. “But no, what I meant was that there’s nothing to pay for. Your tab has been covered.”

“What?” I breathed out in confusion. “By whom?” I asked is disbelief as I scanned around, trying to see if this was some sort of joke.

“John took care of it. Told me to put it on his bill when Man of the Year was reliving his glory days in high school as the quarterback.”

“John? Who is John?”

Mary May stopped what she was doing, giving me a look. “You’re not serious, are you? Like, you’re actually pulling my leg right now, right?” When I shook my head at her, her brows raised. “You’ve been here how long, and you don’t know who John Seed is? He’s like, at the jail every other day. How have you gone this long without talking or hearing about him?”

I swallowed as my breathing picked up, realization dawning on me. “Oh shit, he’s—”

“The guy you were sitting right next to him this whole time? The lawyer that your department is in almost constant contact with? Yeah. Because he’s, you know, like the only fucking good attorney around. Came from some fancy law firm in Atlanta. Seriously, how do you not know this? Anyway, I thought he was going to kill that guy. Not that I blame him. What a fucking piece of work, but who cares about that guy. The point I’m trying to get through your thick skull is that he bought all of your drinks tonight.”

I jump up, grabbing my jacket and purse, praying I wasn’t too late. I caught Mary May’s smirk before I darted out. The night was chilly, bringing a shiver across my skin as I scanned the road for him. Coming up empty, I ran to the side of the building. Maybe it was the wine that was making me do this, forcing me to be bold. I had no idea what I would say or do if I saw him, but I didn’t care. I was an idiot, for obvious reasons. I could hear Hudson calling me a dumbass now.

My shoulders sagged as I came up empty handed, the man in question no where in sight. People were making their way out of the bar, going back home as it grew closer and closer to last call. Disappointment made my heart sink and I kicked a rock on my way back to my jeep. Once I was behind the wheel, I just sat there. Taking a deep breath, I tried to will the headache coming on away. I knew tonight was going to be long, and as I fell asleep tonight, I would be kicking myself the whole fucking time.

#john seed #deputy wren blake #Far Cry 5 #farcry fic #bar au

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