#also we’ll probably never get clara back

[rowanthestrange]

The Doctor’s memory of Clara, morphing into a story, morphing into the Doctor’s OC Comfort Character, morphing into ‘i’m not a woman but if i were’, morphing into-

[eiraeths]

more assorted 141 headcanons

idk what really is considered a trigger warning or a content warning but there’s mentions of ocd tendencies and trauma responses. also the impending feeling of doom that comes with being a solider at war.

soap is a dirty charlatan. going back to my previous headcanon of him being a punk teenager he might of shoplifted from big companies and what not anyway since he’s an adult with responsibilities he doesn’t do that anymore. instead, it turned into making elaborate schemes whether it be a game of cards or pilfering random items from people only to give it back to them to see the shock or confusion on their face

ghost can pickpocket. him and soap once had a long game of who could steal the most stuff off of each other’s persons before the other notices. price had to put a stop to it after they got a little too over-zealous with it

ghost can sew and uses this skill for evil. he find out someone he doesn’t like is superstitious and he’s making a miniature effigy of them and terrorizing them with it. not in an explicit way either only implicit. probably makes it look just like them and leaves it where they can find it and its just mini them in a hazardous situation. no one but price knows it’s him.

gaz is super into formula one racing. he gets soap into it and tries to get price into it but price would rather watch football/soccer. price will still watch it with them but doesn’t understand a damn thing going on

soap is good with cars. bro is a full on mechanic. this may be because he wanted to see how many different ways he could turn a vehicle into a bomb and got really into the mechanical aspects instead. he still figured out the bomb stuff though

soap is very number oriented. counts ceiling tiles and passing cars religiously. may of stemmed from running out of bullets before. this could be seen as a trauma response compulsion or ocd compulsions tbh. feel like its not really an active thing he does but rather an action without conscious thought behind it

gaz once wore eyeliner and everyone short circuited because god DAYUM he’s hot. it was definitely lower lid heavy and pointed down or followed the tilt of his eyes

ghost is a bird freak and can mimic a lot of different bird calls. oh side snippet time y’all know that nursery rhyme about counting magpies? the one for sorrow two for joy? anyway thats very ghoap coded now i gotta write something with that. anyway ghost uses his powers of mimicry (its echolalia and we all know it is) to distract enemies in the field. like the assassins creed whistle except its just bird whistles. he definitely loves infodumping to the 141 when different birds cross their path. when soap learned about birds like great tits or blue tits he had a field day. ghost still hasn’t told him about other birds with vulgar sounding names for that very reason.

a nod back to my previous headcanon about soap collecting pretty rubble from explosions, the team adds onto this for him when they can. price finds him rubble with specific shapes (there was in fact a cock shaped one and price had an internal debate if he really wanted to give it to him knowing what it’d spark. never in his life had he heard so many dick jokes in such a short amount of time. he considered separating gaz and soap because of it. ghost ended up doing it for him by manhandling soap into a different seat and staring at him until he closed his mouth) gaz gets him rubble with specific patterns on them like mosaics and tile. ghost tries to find him specific colors whether it be one of each color of the rainbow or a single color with various shades and hues

ghost separates stuff by color. he mostly wears black but also has some clothes that are like dark blue or green. i don’t see him wearing warm colors at all no matter the shade

price once received a present of cigars from around the world and it’s one of his most prized possessions. even if he sticks to one brand (og price smoked villa claras so we’ll go with that)

gaz and soap make plans to build a race car despite knowing they’ll never get the time to do so. an entire journal of soap’s is dedicated to this car. its got blueprints of the body, motor, and electrical system.

ghost makes soap a quilt with the mactavish clan pattern (i forgot what the actual term is. tartan?) being the key focus and soap cries

all of them try to carry gum for soap (bro definitely got an oral fixation)

okay thats all for headcanons for now. any of y’all got headcanons for price or gaz i can steal and add onto cause its harder for me to come up with mundane things for them

[grimm-tales-gamer]

Fallen Hero: Sidestep 4

I find it funny that this sidestep has the same motivation and scar as Iconoclast, yet they couldn’t be more different.

Name: Clara Dubois

Gender: female she/they

Villain name: Icarus

Villainous role: hero hunter (prepare them)

Motivation: fate

Scar: suicide (third in a row? Geez)

Reason for gala: destroy the sidestep exhibit

Where is she now?: hanging out. Innocent and free.

   Clara is a really fun sidestep to play. She (besides *maybe* sidestep 2 aka Daniel) is my most heroic sidestep. She believes that it’s eventual that the heroes of Los Diablos will clash with the farm and the threat that is coming. The city and its people will not suffer on account of her inaction. So she fights the heroes, never kills, helps civilians, donates to charity (what need does she have for that much money), and even robs from villains to have a flush fund if ever she needs it.

   She has a pretty good relationship with everyone, except maybe Argent and Mortum, and has a huge crush on Julia Ortega while also dating Herald. She told Julia though.. with a kiss as well as words. A conversation that Clara, Herald, and Ortega are going to need to have.

   Despite love being in the air Clara is not doing hot. She has issues she isn’t properly working through and believes it’s probably her fate to die during this “war”. She doesn’t believe she is a good person and worries about hurting the ones she loves.. more than she already has. She hurt Mortum when admitting the truth. She is afraid of hurting Ortega and Herald both physically in a fight (again) and emotionally for having feelings for both of them. I’m actually worried for her; her scar keeps getting worse and her motivation is dropping little by little. We’ll have to see what happens.

Man, another downer. How about some fun facts?:

Clara speaks several languages and actually enjoys learning new ones and keeping up with the ones she already knows.

There is only one language she tried to learn and dropped. Vietnamese. All those tenses and slight changes in tone meaning a thousand things drove her mad. She won’t touch it again.

Loves Vietnamese food though.

Learned how to cook after her second escape. Ortega may not believe her though.. Clara did almost burn her apartment down last time so.

Loves the color red, and will try to always wear something red.

Teases a lot. And is actually funny. She tries to never be straight up mean with it.

Used to play a lot of poker for actual money. She’s good and not just because of her telepathy.

She has used her telepathy to cheat though and was banned from playing with the other rangers. She took is as good fun and laughed when they realized.

Now the end with stats, armor stuff, and appearance:

Clara prefers anonymity at around 55%, she *can* be a know it all or it’d be a higher score. High empathy, sitting at about an 80%. And daring, at about 80% again. Clara prefers strength of mind over subtlety, strength sitting at around 80.

Armor:

Type and appearance: practical. Blocky and built. Thick militaristic armor plates with an equally blocky helmet. There are no easy angles on this armor, no subtlety. The armor plates are black, the armor underneath is red with gold accents at the joints and neck.

Add ons: armor and speed

Extra: I always imagined Clara using a collapsible staff that she usually carries on her hip.

Clara’s appearance:

Race: white

Height: medium, maybe 5ft 7in (1.7m)

Hair: straight thick blond hair. Shaved on sides and back. The rest is usually in a messy bun.

Eyes: green. They were always green. Just maybe not THAT green. Thanks Void.

Style: fashionable street wear. Casual and colorful. Wears a lot of different things but always wears something in red.

[bonesandthebees]

Then. There’s Niki and Jack’s backstory. Poor kids, they got fucked over so hard. She does pause before telling him about the fire. I assume it’s either her deciding whether to tell him the full story, or her bracing herself to tell it. Maybe both, cuz it is a very traumatic story. It’s also going to explain how she reacts to Tommy trying to kill Jack. Jack is her constant. Nobody gets to touch him. She’ll get very protective of him.

Anyway, back on track. Niki talking about her past and finally answering find question Wilbur asked her to get her to leave him alone all those chapters ago leads the question she aked him to resurface. And the thing is. A lot has shifted. Wilbur’s mindset has shifted. It doesn’t feel as big to admit that he didn’t want to be Pythia. To admit that they basically kidnapped him. He already told Tommy. So he can tell Niki too. Part of him might feel like he owes it to her even when she assures him that he doesn’t. And part of it is wanting to talk about it to process of and trusting Niki enough to tell her.

Suddenly, Wilbur needs people to know. Because so much is shifting and he’s constantly trying to find boundaries. Mostly his own boundaries. There’s so much progress in this line [While he had no clue what Clara wanted from him, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know.] He’s not looking at it as becoming his own person outside of being the Pythia, but that’s what he’s doing. He wants to be Wilbur. The bird wants to be Wilbur. The bird is probably what’s left of the original Wilbur wanting to be set free.

And Tommy calling him by his name is starting to have its effect. Wilbur no longer needs to be the Pythia. Because that’s not what he is to Tommy. And that’s not what he is to Charlie. So that’s not what he wants to be to Niki. And once that idea grabs ahold of him, it won’t let go. And it’s a little bit of progress because he TELLS NIKI HIS NAME, but then once she uses it he panics. He did say that it was his name, because it’s not anymore. It still isn’t. He can let Tommy use it because he didn’t give it to Tommul he never gave vocal permission either.

But he’s told Niki what it was. And when she uses it he flinches like he did the first time Tommy used it because it’s a new person and he’s not used to being called Wilbur. He needs to get used to it with a new person. But instead he panics and tells her that she can’t use it. He backpaddels because healthier isn’t a linear process, but he can’t really take his name back.

Niki knows now. And she won’t use it, but she’s very sad about Wilbur not seeing his name as his. About him knowing it but not using it. About the pain he must have gone through to lose his name. Especially when she knows he didn’t want to become Pythia. But Niki won’t use the name. Out of respect or out of not wanting to push too far because he did flinch. I wonder if it’ll stay like that. I wonder what she will do with that information and who she will tell. Especially with what happened between Jack and Tommy. It might be easier to take her anger out on Wilbur. I hope see doesn’t, but we’ll have to wait and see.

Sorry if this batch of asks feels incoherent. For some reason my dark mode glitched and all the text is black on a dark blue background and ot’s very hard to read but there’s no easy way to fix it so incoherent mess it is.

-🌲

niki had to pause to collect herself and think of how she wanted to tell the story, and also decide she wanted to at all. but ultimately she decided that she wanted to show the pythia that she trusted him, that way he knew he could trust her in return if he wanted to.

but yeah poor niki and jack, they really got fucked over.

so much has shifted for wilbur though, especially recently. his mindset is changing, he's questioning things he never did, a switch inside of him has flipped and he doesn't know how to undo it. and niki gave him this huge gesture of trust, so he wants to repay it by doing the same. he knows he doesn't have to, but he wants to. and for once, he listens to what he wants.

he can't admit that he's becoming his own person yet, but he absolutely is. and he wants to be free of his identity as the pythia so badly even if he can't say it out loud. but he can do this one thing. take this one step and tell niki his name. but of course he panics and backtracks once she actually uses it, but the important part is that he willingly shared his name with her.

i'll say right now no matter how pissed niki is about tommy, she would never stoop so low as to tell his name to jack or use it against him in front of others. she would never want anyone to use her story of the fire against her like that, so she's treating wilbur's name with the same respect. even if she doesn't have full context, she could tell how much it meant for him to tell her that. that's always going to be off limits in whatever fights they end up getting into from here.

oh noooo i hope you get your dark mode fixed!! you're fine tho it's not incoherent at all :D tysm love love love hearing your thoughts as always!!

[icouldntfindquiet]

Can you give us a sneak peak, just a small one, of the next chapter of Dream?? If not then totally fine just wanting a sneak peak. Also how do you think Florence feels that Vans spending so much time on Clara. I know that’s what the story was about but will this part fizzle out and focus more on florence and Vans relationship? Does Van think florence is the one or maybe not? I would love to see more of how he feels for Florence!!

Also not criticizing your work, you’re an amazing writer and I love reading all of your work just curious as Im excited for florence and van and what their relationship holds for the future!!💖💖💖

Yeah, I can give a sneak peak! And no worries! I’m not offended at all. I’m open to feedback and am curious what people think so thanks for sending this! ☺️

Sorry it took so long to write back. You made me think about where I wanted to go with this story and I got carried away. Putting it under the cut because it’s long!

Florence does have her insecurities. There are hints of it like when she said “we never forget the people we’ve dated” and when she teasingly threatened him saying if he’s thinking about her sexually, THEN there’s a problem. 😂 But she does put a lot of trust in him. Like he hasn’t done anything alarming to make her worry. But Van does worry that the feelings will come back when he sees her! You’ll get insight on what he’s thinking but after some time, it’ll be clear where he stands. Hint: Florence is still the one. 🥰

It seems like a lot of people are invested in Florence and Van. I’ve not forgotten about them, I promise! I’m just trying to figure out what to do with Clara without it being too rushed. If I’m being honest, I don’t know how far into the future I want to go. We’ll definitely have to visit Florence’s family again (Van has to redeem himself 😆), and Van and Florence need to move into their new apartment so there’s that. Once that’s all sorted, I’ll probably jump forward to Van planning his proposal. I get to explore this from a man’s perspective so that’ll be fun! I definitely want to write him asking her parents for approval, picking out a ring, etc. 😁 They’ll send out invitations to their wedding and will hear back from Clara. The story ends with Van reading her letter again but this time, it will be more complete.

And before I forget! Here’s the snippet. Thanks again for this ask and thank you so much for reading. ❤️

[bumbleklee]

getting into trouble

masterlist | 1k prompt masterlist | family series

prompt: [family series] the kids are being bad

pairings: diluc, kaeya, childe and zhongli x female!reader (separate)

warnings: children! also calla is very mean

diluc

Diluc knew better than to leave his toddlers alone – he really did. But he also really needed a cup of coffee and they were distracted coloring at the dining room table. He would just make himself a cup of coffee and then come back and everything would be fine. 

Or so he thought. 

He didn’t think anything of it when he heard the twins giggling to themselves, either. They were two year olds, they found everything funny nowadays. 

The coffee finished brewing and Diluc poured himself a mug, ready to sit back down and erase the tiredness from his body. He never expected to come back to his dining room walls being covered in a million different scribbles. 

“Oh, come on guys.” 

The twins froze in shock and slowly turned around to face their dad. By the look on his face, they knew they were in trouble. Diluc put down his coffee and held out his hand, demanding the crayons from the toddlers. 

“You just lost your coloring privileges for a whole month.” 

He was exaggerating, of course, but the twins didn’t need to know that. Frankly, he wasn’t too upset about the mess they made but you, on the other hand, would be furious. Maybe if Diluc scolded the kids beforehand, you would go easy on them. 

“Whose idea was it?” 

The twins looked at each other for a moment before Clara stuck out her finger at Isaac. “‘Sic said the paper was too small,” She said quickly, not being able to pronounce every word correctly. 

“Is that true?” Diluc asked. Isaac shook his head, curls bouncing. Technically, Clara had been the one to initiate the coloring on the walls but Isaac still did it, too. Diluc ran a hand through his hair, “Mommy is not going to be happy.” 

And he was right. You were not happy. 

The second you found out your children had colored all over the walls, your anger bubbled over. Was this the ‘terrible twos’ everyone talked about? 

You tried to get an answer out of the children but they were resilient. Clara even had an attitude and you wondered where the hell she picked that up from. When both children refused to show even the slightest bit of remorse, you pulled their pacifiers out of their mouths and put them in a drawer they couldn’t reach. Then you sent them to different corners of the house for ten minutes to think about what they did. 

Diluc frowned at the sound of his wailing babies. “We can just paint over it,” He told you, rubbing your back to calm you down. 

“I know,” You sighed, “But they need to know they can’t do things like this. If they want to color on something bigger, they can ask and we’ll get them a whole sheet of paper.” Diluc nodded in agreement. 

Eventually the toddlers stopped crying and stood silently. Clara even leaned her head against the wall and tried to pass Diluc puppy-eyed looks of sorrow but he stood his ground. 

When timeout was up, you gathered the twins into your arms and sat them down on the couch. You sat on the coffee table in front of them, “What did we learn today?” 

“No drawin’ on the walls,” Clara mumbled, looking down in shame. Isaac repeated the same. 

“And what happens if we want to draw on something other than paper?” 

“Ask mama or dada for something else…” 

Diluc bent down, “Do you have anything else to say?” He motioned to you so the twins got his message. 

“Sorry mama…” They said in unison. 

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter. You gathered the twins into your arms, “Thank you, babies.”

kaeya

Calla had a major attitude problem and it showed itself at the ripe age of 2. She was sassy and independent and had a vocabulary of words you and Kaeya had no idea where they came from. (Probably Venti, Kaeya thinks). 

When you decided to go with Albedo on an expedition to Dragonspine for the weekend, Kaeya knew his hands would be full. Luckily, he had the other Knights to lean back on. 

Only Calla hated spending time at the headquarters. There was nothing to do, everyone was busy, and she missed you. It wasn’t a surprise she was in a nasty mood all weekend. 

At some point, Calla had enough. She was exhausted but she didn’t want to take a nap anywhere but her bed at home with her favorite stuffed animals. In a tired fit, the toddler sat down in the middle of the floor. 

“What’s the matter, Honey?” Lisa asked, looking down at the toddler. 

Calla crossed her arms and pouted, “I want mama.” 

Lisa bent down, “Mama is still away. Do you want to help me sort books instead?” 

The little girl shook her head violently, “No! I want mama!” 

Knowing exactly what was going to happen, Lisa sighed and stood back up. She poked her head into Jean’s office, where Kaeya was sitting at the table, and grabbed him. She explained how Calla was about to throw a tantrum. 

Kaeya sighed, tired himself, and went to pick up Calla. She resisted his hold before curling her little hands into fists and hitting Kaeya’s chest with them. He brought her into Jean’s office and shut the door – if she was going to throw a fit, he’d rather her do one behind closed doors. 

“It’s not nice to hit people,” He said flatly. Calla squirmed out of his arms and threw herself back onto the ground, kicking her legs and wailing overdramatically. Kaeya ran a hand through his hair, “Getting upset isn’t going to bring mommy home.” 

Calla only screeched louder, “I want mama!” 

“You just have me,” Kaeya shot back. He was getting irritated. 

“Well…I hate you!” 

Kaeya frowned quickly. It felt like a dagger had just been pierced through his heart. He knew Calla was just upset and didn’t mean it, but this was his pride and joy and she said she hated him. He couldn’t think of anything else. 

While Kaeya was processing what just happened, Calla pulled herself off the floor and flung herself underneath Jean’s desk. She pulled her legs up to her chest. 

Kaeya knew better than to overstimulate his daughter so he sat back down at the table to finish his paperwork. They both needed some time to themselves, he decided. 

After a while, Kaeya stood up and made his way over to the desk. “Calla? Can you come out?” 

“No.” 

“You know,” He started, “I’m really sad my Calla-Lily doesn’t want to spend time with me. Is mommy really that much better than me?” The toddler didn’t say anything. “And here I was, looking forward to a whole weekend with her.” 

There was a shuffling noise from underneath the desk. 

“Do you really hate daddy?” 

Calla finally popped up from the otherside of the desk. Her cheeks were dark and she was looking down in embarrassment, “No…” 

“Didn’t think so,” Kaeya said, “Can I get a hug?” The toddler nodded and Kaeya scooped her into his arms. He peppered her face with kisses until she was a giggling mess. “How about we head home and take a nice, long nap? Sound good?” 

childe

Childe was not in the mood today. 

He woke up late, missing a meeting for work, and then had to call out of work altogether when you had a family emergency and had to run out. Now he had to finish the laundry, make dinner, finish up paperwork, and watch Nikolai all at once. 

And it didn’t help that Nikolai was being a pain in his ass. 

The two year old was becoming more and more competent by the day. He finished his lunch and decided he just wanted something to do. 

“Daddy?”

Childe barely looks up from his paperwork, “Yeah?” 

“Can we play?”

“Not right now, buddy. Go play with your toys.” 

Nikolai waits around to see if Childe will change his mind but when he doesn’t, the toddler shrugs his shoulders and wanders throughout the house. He had lots of toys but none of them were catching his eye right now. He wanted new toys. 

His little feet carried him to your bedroom, the one room where he wasn’t really supposed to go alone, and noticed the door was open. He hesitated before letting himself in, the thrill of being somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be catching up to him. Nikolai wandered around the bedroom until his eyes landed on the bow sitting in the corner of the room. 

It was Childe’s bow, he knew that much, and Childe never let him near it. But Childe wasn’t around right now. 

The child walked up to the bow and reached out to it, his eyes glittering with amazement. It was so tall and blue and shiny. But when Nikolai reached out to touch it, the bow lost balance and came crashing down onto the hardwood floors, causing a loud bang. 

“Uh-oh…” 

Childe heard the commotion and came rushing down the hall, “Nik?” Nikolai sheepishly looked over his shoulder. “Are you okay?” 

Childe rushed over to Nikolai and checked his son for any sign of injury first and once he found nothing, he looked at the bow. His poor bow, his prized possession, was laying on the floor with the string completely snapped. It must have broken in the fall. 

It wasn’t a horrible injury to the weapon but with Childe’s already foul mood, he snapped. 

“Why are you even in here?” Childe yells. Nikolai instantly shrinks down. “You’re going to time out.” Before Nikolai can protest, Childe grabs him the by arm and pulls him out of the bedroom. “If you can’t be a good boy while daddy is working, then you’re going to time out.” 

Nikolai’s bottom lip blubbers and he tries to dig his feet into the floor. “No!” 

But Childe holds his ground. He pulls out a chair from the kitchen table, puts in the corner, and then sits Nikolai down onto it. He ignores Nikolai’s over-dramatic cries. 

You come home halfway through Nikolai’s time out and find Childe quickly. “What did he do this time?” 

“Got into our bedroom and broke my bow,” Childe sighs, “It’s almost done.” 

When time is up, Childe gathers Nikolai from the time out chair and kneels down in front of him. “Are you mad at me?” Nikolai asks slowly, his bottom lip still quivering. 

Childe sighs again and runs a hand through Nikolai’s ginger curls, “No, I’m not.” Then he adds, “But when I tell you to do something, you have to do it. You could have gotten hurt.” 

The toddler nods his head and looks at the ground. “Hug?” His question is answered by two strong arms wrapping around his tight body in a squeeze. “Sorry, daddy…” 

zhongli

Nikolai and Jia were inseparable. They had been since they first met as newborns to now and everyone knew they would be together until the end. Zhongli remembers once, when they were around six months old, the babies were sleeping next to each other on Childe’s couch and when it was time to go, Zhongli picked up Jia only to have her wake up and start crying hysterically. She only stopped crying when he put her back down next to Nikolai. The rest was history. 

Playdates were almost a daily thing with the two of them. Now that they were older, the men had no problem taking them for walks throughout Liyue so the toddlers could frolic in the fields or play on some rocks. 

Their personalities complimented each other wonderfully, too. 

Nikolai was energetic and Jia was reserved – but they did a perfect job at grounding each other. The elders in Liyue made jokes about how this was just the beginning of a fruitful relationship between the two of them. 

Jia, especially, loved her friend. Zhongli’s wary caution meant Jia couldn’t play with the other kids in Liyue like Nikolai could. To Jia, Nikolai was her only friend. 

But boy, did he make her mad sometimes. 

Zhongli was in charge of watching the children one day and everything was fine until they came across a toy they both wanted. It was a stuffed tiger plush, one of Jia’s favorites, and Nikolai really wanted to play with it. 

The ex-Archon wasn’t paying much attention to the children at first. They fought over toys all the time and usually it was resolved quickly but when the toddlers were still battling over the tiger, Zhongli decided to intervene. 

And at the right moment, too, because Jia bent down and bit Nikolai’s hand as hard as possible. He dropped the tiger and burst into tears, becoming a blubbering mess in seconds. 

Zhongli gasped, “Jia!” The toddler squealed and hugged the tiger stuffed animal to her chest, not knowing she did anything wrong. Zhongli’s firm hand landed on hers, though, and the tiger fell to the ground, “We do not bite.” 

Jia looked up at her father in confusion. 

“Do you understand me? We do not bite.” 

When she didn’t understand, Zhongli picked Jia up and carried her to her bedroom. He set her down on her bed and shut the door briskly, ignoring her loud cries of disapproval. 

In the meantime, Zhongli tended to Nikolai’s bite mark. “Does it hurt?” 

Nikolai shook his head, “No, ‘m okay!” He picked up the tiger and frowned. The little boy played with himself for a while but it wasn’t fun. He wanted to play with Jia. He hated hearing her cry in the other room. After a while, Nikolai tugged on the bottom of Zhongli’s jacket. “Can Jia come back now?” 

Zhongli hesitated, “She was being bad.” 

Nikolai shook his head again, “Jia is never bad!” 

Zhongli felt his heart flutter and he reluctantly agreed to get Jia. When he cracked open her bedroom door, the two year old was sitting on her bed still with a pacifier in her mouth. She was teary eyed and reached out towards Zhongli. He sighed – no matter how big she got, she would always be his little one. 

“Do you know what you did?” He asked again. 

Jia nodded. “I bit Nikky…” 

“You bit Nikolai,” Zhongli agreed, “What are you going to say to him?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Good girl.” Zhongli ruffled her hair and brought her back out to Nikolai. He set the little girl onto the ground and Jia shuffled her feet for a moment before looking back up at Nikolai. 

“Sorry, Nikky…” She said quietly. 

Nikolai only grinned, “It’s okay, Jia! Can we play again now?” 

taglist (if you want to be added)

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@hosshihusshi @slo-thecat @cozykaii @lqvl3y @stratosphered @IneedtotouchgrassOwO (can’t be tagged, check settings)

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

thinking about yaz saying the doctor can drop them back wherever they want:

RYAN: Is this our lives? Going from one place to the next, ignoring home? We're getting older, but without them. Missing out bits of their lives.   YASMIN: When we're done, The Doctor can drop you off at whatever point you want, though. RYAN: Yeah, but we'll have changed. They wouldn't have. It's like we're living at different rates. YASMIN: The Doctor said we wouldn't come back the same. DOCTOR: I was thinking Frankenstein.  

im assuming thats what the doctor told them. im assuming yaz didnt just assume that on her own.

in the first episode yaz asks “is this normal for you”:

YASMIN: So everything we saw, everything we've lied to people about, is this normal for you?

clara voice: you lied and now you made me lie, youve made me your accomplice!

ive said this before but i dont think 13 needed to tell or ask them to lie, i think she took the lead, gave an example and they followed. i think it’s similar with how the doctor went about setting the rules of travelling. i dont know if they discussed the travelling schedule, i imagine there must have been Some discussion. but i think 13 would offer when they can be back without being asked. like she said the disclaimers when they asked to come and she asked if they knew what they were signing up for and if they were sure. so i think she would have also offered this freely. i can get you back to any point, whenever you want.

it’s interesting bc you wonder what she was thinking when she offered that. my first thought is approximately right back to when they left. the same way she brought them back in 11x4 to half an hour after 11x1. and the same way she comes back in revolution thinking it’s the same day she left them in 12x10. i think that first of all shes offering them the chance to not miss any time with their families and friends. that doesnt entirely work bc as ryan says “we’ll have changed, they wouldnt have” but thats no issue from the doctor’s immortal perspective. she didnt really change in the decades in prison.

so thats the main thing i think she was offering, to get some adventures and never be missed. hide all this, hide all these experiences, this entire life, from their loved ones. i dont think she even thought about that. i think that was just intuitively the logical thing to offer. absolute compartmentalisation.

but another thing thats also offered in “whatever point you want”, is a point thats not even in your life. she probably wouldnt take you back to before you were travelling bc there’d be two of you and thats not ideal for the timelines, but any other time? before you were born? a hundred years after? or just a couple of weeks into the future, or a couple of years, skip 5, whos gonna notice that? i think you can get away with 5 years, whos gonna suspect time travel.

anyway, i have no real thoughts here i just think it’s a fun offer to think about. it’s a fun offer to think about 13 making. i can really hear clara’s accusatory “youve made me your accomplice!” in it. she made them lie and she made them keep up the lie and i dont think she ever gave them any other option.and it’s interesting for her to make this offer. an offer that feels natural to her, but for companions is actually like, kind of a difficult question right?

i just think she doesnt imagine their perspectives a lot. and i think thats why she probably would be surprised with how well they know her if they voiced it. i mean she is surprised in 12x5 when ryan says very determinedly “youre the doctor”. the three of them together i think understand and have guessed a lot about her and i even think theyve shared some of what theyve seen especially in s12, i think they had meetings about her. they kinda did in 12x5.

so idk tldr i guess is i think the fam get her shoes a lot better than she gets theirs. i dont think shes even tried all that much. i dont think it has occured to her to think about how cancer has affected graham, or how he and ryan mourned grace, or who ryans friends are, or whether yaz had any, or what her relationship to her family is like. i dont think she has thought to think about any of that.

i think they might have mentioned things here and there. ryan mentions his old job in kerblam and i feel like friends maybe at some point too? graham comes to her in 12x7. she knows yaz was bullied from witchfindesr. but i doubt she FOLLOWED UP on any of that. i dont think she’d ask further questions. she closed herself off Completely when graham came to her for Emotional Support, i doubt she’d open doors to that kinda thing voluntarily. and i think maybe she wouldnt even want to spend much time thinking about it. thinking about the lives she took these people from. just focus on the here and now. no yesterdays no tomorrows

[anotheruserwithnoname]

SDCC schedule provides some details of Sandman panel

Visitors to the San Diego Comic Con website can get a few details as to what to expect this Saturday (July 23) when The Sandman is featured at the big convention. The event is scheduled for mid-afternoon (see here for the full day’s listing).

Although some media have reported the first episode might be screened, that isn’t likely to happen: the panel is only scheduled to run for one hour and that includes time for Q&A with attending cast members (Jenna Coleman is expected to be one of them, but this remains tentative especially as she’s still  filming Wilderness; the site does not actually list any names so technically no one other than the showrunners are confirmed apparently). There is mention of a video presentation (which usually means either behind the scenes footage or a new trailer), but there simply isn’t enough time to screen a full episode and do any sort of multi-person Q&A assuming Sandman will feature standard hour-long episodes.

The listing mentions that there will be Comic Con Exclusives, which usually means merchandise; in the past, for example, there have been limited-edition Funko Pops, comics and other items made available. I haven’t heard of anything like a Johanna Constantine Funko, but if there is going to be one, we’ll probably find out then, too. (Just as with the Clara Oswald Funko back in 2017, if there is an SDCC-exclusive release of one, some chains such as Hot Topic have the licence to carry them or they’re sometimes made available for mail order.)

Matt Smith’s Game of Thrones prequel series, House of the Dragon (I keep calling it House of Dragons), is also doing a presentation earlier on Saturday. Notably, the SDCC listing for it does list who is expected to attend, including Matt. It’s also only scheduled for an hour, though, so there won’t be an episode screening at that time either. There’s always hope that Matt and Jenna might have a chance to reunite, but if they do it’ll likely be more a backstage thing we won’t see as I’m told SDCC is rather more regimented than standard conventions, and neither Sandman nor House of Dragons are listed as doing autograph sessions. But you never know!

Also, the official SDCC listings only cover official SDCC events; back in 2015 I believe some of the Doctor Who events involving Jenna, Peter Capaldi and Michelle Gomez that took place “off-campus” (i.e. the House of Blues appearance and Nerd HQ panel) weren’t listed, so there’s always a chance the Sandman crew might do something else! Time will tell!

[strawberrylemonz]

Campfire Tales

Part 3 of my series!  Thank you for 100+ followers!!!

As usual, do ask me any questions you may have regarding this series! 

This is dedicated to both @petrichormeraki and @applepie1000

Enjoy!

Part 2

Part 3 [CURRENT]

Part 4

————————

“You’re gonna burn the ‘mallows”

“Am not”

“Are too”

“Am not”

“Are too”

“Calm down, you two”

Everyone was sitting around the campfire as Tommy brought out the sticks and marshmallows. He had already taken out the rest of the supplies to make snacks and drinks using the fire, doing his best to make sure that everyone was comfortable before he explained his time before joining the hermits.

“You doing alright?”

Tommy stiffened at the sound of being addressed so suddenly. Turning to his side, he saw his older brother smiling up at him. Tommy had been feeling very anxious since the group began their hike up to the campfire, so the sight was comforting for him. He returned the smile to his brother, who extended a hand out to him.

“Let me help you with those, Toms. Just sit down and relax for a bit. You’re probably very nervous.”

Now, Tommy would usually bite back with an overconfident comment, but Tommy didn’t feel like his usual self. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and handed Grian the remaining supplies. Grian, in turn, grabbed the supplies before sitting his little brother down on a seat. Ruffling his hair with affection, Grian handed Tommy some marshmallows before setting off to finish handing everything out. 

“You get near that majestic cat, Iskall, and I will stab you”

“Okay, okay, I’m backing off.”

Peering up, Tommy saw Cleo scoop up a cat, before walking off to sit on a different log seat. Iskall, in turn, nervously laughed as if he just escaped death. ‘Wouldn’t be an understatement.’ Tommy thought with slight amusement. Iskall then turned to Tommy, smiling at the younger boy. Tommy, returned the smile, waving at the man. Iskall saw that as an invitation and proceeded to sit down next to Tommy on the log.

“Nervous?”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Well, yeah. You started to tone down on the cussing when we arrived at Pirate’s Pier. You stopped cussing in general when we took Captain Puffy’s ship to the campsite, and you haven’t cussed since. You’re also fidgeting around a lot.”

“Shit”

Iskall let out a laugh as Tommy shoved his face into his hands. Patting the young adult’s back with care, he did his best to comfort Tommy.

“Hey, it’s alright. We’ll understand if you decide to stop telling us. But don’t push yourself to either share past your comfort or to coop up all your feelings. It’s not healthy for you, and we’ll all attack you with care and affection until you feel better.”

Tommy barked out a laugh as he playfully pushed away Iskall’s face.

“That’s all you lot have been doing since I arrived. Been acting like I’m your baby brother, or some shit.”

“Well, that’s the case. At least, for one of us.”

At that, the two peered over to Grian, who was putting up the left over supplies with haste, obviously eager to begin unraveling his brother’s pain.

“He seems more hyper than usual”

“I’m pretty sure it’s on the account that he found out that his favorite raccoon is, in fact, his younger brother.”

“I hope he isn’t disappointed-”

Tommy was interrupted when a hand covered his mouth. Feigning irritation, Tommy peered over at the owner of the hand, Iskall. Quirking an eyebrow at him, Tommy gave a pointed look. Iskall huffed before removing his hand from Tommy’s mouth.

“What the hell was that for, Isk-”

“Don’t say that.”

“Don’t say what? Your name?”

“No, Tommy, not that. Don’t say anything about Grian being disappointed in you being his brother. The two of you have been acting like brothers since the day you two met. You guys are two peas in a pod, burrowing in bases together and pranking any fool who let their guard down. He is more than happy to have you as his brother.”

“How can you be so sure when you say that?”

“Because, Tommy, I saw how he reacted. The two of you obviously couldn’t see that well, with the two of you weeping up an ocean-”

“-Did not-”

“-Did too. Anyways, I saw his reaction to putting the pieces together. It was a whole new Grian, one we never got to see before. His facade fell the moment he saw who you were. Something changed in his eyes, and he held you with more pride and love than he ever did before. He’s more than happy to have you as family.”

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows before looking Iskall in the face. He wanted to doubt his words, he really did. He wanted to believe that he didn’t deserve so much of Grian’s love, that he didn’t deserve a special place in his heart. One look at Iskall’s face, however, was more than enough confirmation that he wasn’t being lied to. As much as Tommy wanted to avoid his brother’s love, he knew he couldn’t. All Tommy could do was to just pray to Clara that this brotherly bond would not be torn apart and bombed, just like his last two. He just wanted a family member he could rely on, not one that would break him with betrayal and miscommunication.

“What are you two talking about?”

Tommy peered up to see Grian standing there, munching on a melted marshmallow. Rolling his eyes, Tommy snorted at him as Iskall laughed.

“Talking about how much of a big man Toms is.”

“Hey! Watch the sarcasm! I am a big man!”

Grian snorted before sitting down on the other of Tommy, getting comfortable on the log. The two brothers shared a smile before Tommy faced the rest of the group.

“Everyone ready?”

A chorus of confirmation was given, a single nod to return them. Sighing, Tommy situated himself and cleared his throat.

“I’m severely grateful for all of you, truly. You’ve all looked past the fact that I was a bastard and decided to keep me around. You guys helped me come to terms with things that I once thought was impossible to come to terms with. You’ve all even helped me heal from those stupid, shitty triggers. I really don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t ended up here, especially looking back to where I was at my previous server.”

He saw everyone’s face gain some form of affection at his words. The pat on his back and the hand on his was all he needed to know that he woild go through with this. They’ve housed him and healed him for over 2 years, they deserved to know what they saved him from.

“Alright, it all started when I got an invite to Dream’s server, the Dream SMP.”

————

Grian didn’t know how to react, how to feel. How could he? It’s not everyday that you find out that the amazing big brothers you idolized weren’t so amazing after all. How could the people that vowed to look after their baby brothers turn around and break the youngest one? Tommy claimed that everything was a misunderstanding, and that he deserved his punishments, but no one deserved punishments that severe.

“-I tried telling them how that made me feel, but Technoblade and Wilbur said that it had to stay in the pit. Tubbo tried to tell me that it wasn’t a big deal, but he was terrified of fireworks for so long after that. Not just fireworks, loud noises in general.”

Grian could tell how uneasy everyone was feeling, but they all understood not to prevent the boy from sharing. He had a lot of built up trauma that he tried forcing away, and that wasn’t healthy for him. He had to get everything off his chest, for the betterment of his mentality and health in general. Grian tried not to grimace as Tommy moved onto the death of the president, how he died of a heart attack. Doing his best to make sure his brother was comfortable, he periodically offered the younger boy drink and snack breaks in order to collect his thoughts. Tommy was grateful for these. 

“-He was so mad that we reinstalled a person to be our leader, saying that we betrayed him, but that’s not the case! I promise you it wasn’t! I wouldn’t have intentionally betrayed someone that I saw as my brother, my idol, my...my friend.”

Grian put an arm around the slouching boy and after making a mental note to help him fix his posture offered him a hand. Tommy happily accepted the comfort, trying his best to compose himself.

“And then he...he...”

“What is it, Tommy? What did Techno do?”

“He asked me if I wanted to be a hero. I didn’t even get to properly answer him. I still remember his words, they are forever engraved in my brain. ‘You wanna be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one!’ Then he set fucking withers on my nation, my home. Pathetic, isn’t it? Haha, and that’s not the worst part! That wasn’t even the worst disaster to have happened on that stupid, cursed day. My nation was blown up, and when I had turned to see what happened, I saw Wilbur, standing there, laughing at the chaos. Next thing I knew, dad- er, Phil, he...he killed him. I lost Wilby. I couldn’t save him from his madness.”

His voice had gotten much quieter as he spoke about that painful day. If everyone wasn’t so quiet they would have missed it, the way Tommy’s voice broke and quivered. Trying not to break, he leaned into his older brother, not paying any attention to the height difference. Grian, in turn, was holding his little brother as if the world would crumble if he let go. His brother was dead, the other blinded by his personal morals. And his father, his hero, murdered his son in front of the others. Grian did his best to listen to what Tommy was saying, not wanting him to feel unsupported. He just sat there and listened.

“-He didn’t even say goodbye to me. He just stood there as Dream took me away. Ghostbur went along with me, which I was grateful for, but the company of a ghost can only go so far, especially when it’s of your late brother.”

No one could believe the burdens put upon the shoulders of these two boys. They shouldn’t have had to deal with any of this, yet they were forced to do so. They couldn’t get mad at Tubbo, he didn’t deserve to be despised after having to deal with such a stressful decision at such a young age. Iskall took over trying to comfort Tommy while Grian tried to drink as much water as he could, as if it would drown all the emotions he was feeling. He felt absolutely sick hearing what Dream put his baby brother through. He suddenly felt amazing at being a Dream slayer. He was sure Tommy would find comfort in that. Tommy eventually got to the end of his stay with Techno. 

“I was hoping that he would understand why I didn’t stay, why I had to leave. As much as I care for him, he was feeding in to my negative thoughts, and I had to prevent myself from becoming everything I didn’t want to be. He didn’t get it, though. I still saw him as a friend, a brother, but he only saw me as a selfish traitor. He only saw me as someone who wanted to use him as a weapon. Phil called me a traitor, too, and they took down my tower. It’s okay, everyone sees them as ugly pieces of shit. Tubbo and I began to slowly heal our friendship as we prepared for Doomsday, but that’s when things got weird. As Tubbo and I went on a walk to discuss our plan, some weird portal opened up in the ground. I felt weightless as I fell in, and then I ended up here. I’ve been here with you guys ever since.”

Before he could say anything else, Tommy was engulfed into an embrace. Grian buried his brother’s face into his chest, kissing his brother’s hair as he rocked him back and forth. Iskall joined in and rubbed the boy’s back, Mumbo approaching and supporting Grian and Tommy’s weight so they wouldn’t fall. Xisuma stood behind the two, hand on Tommy’s shoulder. One by one, Stress, Scar, Joe, Tango, False, everyone began to join in on the comfort circle to give support to the brothers.

--------

Grian and Tommy had not detached from each other since the campfire. No one pointed that out, not this time. They just gave the birdie personal space with his raccoon of a brother. Everyone gave the two smiles, wishing them goodnight as they all left to stay in the lodging of their choosing in the adventure park. Tommy and Grian waved at them before turning to leave to their choice in lodging. After a while, they arrived to their destination, the Antarctic Empire. After standing in the hall and debating which room to stay in, they eventually decided to stay the night in Grian’s room. Once the were changed for bed, the two just sat on the bed, unsure whether or not they should talk about something or force themselves to sleep. Finally, sucking in a breath of confidence, Tommy spoke up.

“So, since festival week is in a few months, wanna help me plan our outfits and hand out fliers?”

[portiaadams]

Meyer and Charlie Smut

I wrote Lanskiano smut. It’s embedded in my Richard Harrow/Clara Thompson story. For those who don’t care about Richard and my OC, here is Charlie and Meyer having a moment

December 31st, 1921

The sound of the engine and the clacking of the train against the rails filled the room, but could not overcome the roaring silence between the room's inhabitants. Charlie adjusted his legs once more, trying to find some way to fit them on the single bed. God damn it, this was a bed for a child not a grown fucking man. The Darmody kid was probably too big for it.  Charlie wasn't sure how long he'd been awake-this time-but it was one of many things really pissing him off.

From the larger bed there was a quick flash of light and then the scent of sulfur and tobacco. "I offered to take that bed," Meyer said after a slow exhale.

"Them shoulders of yours wouldn't have even fit," Charlie groused.

Determining Charlie's mood came as naturally to him as determining the weather before he stepped off his stoop. Certainly, Charlie's moods could be as mercurial as the weather. And at the moment, Charlie's mood registered as stormy.

"Charlie," Meyer began.

"Can it, Meyer," Charlie answered and swung his legs off the bed, stumbling in the dark for his own cigarettes and lighter.

"You are being irrational," Meyer responded.

"That brutto figlio di puttana bastardo was up your ass all night. You enjoyed though, didn't ya?"

Meyer sighed. Charlie acted like he was the only one who wanted. Meyer's first memory was wanting. Wanting enough to eat, wanting a warmer fire, wanting. Those years when his father was gone and he did all a kid could do to keep his mother and siblings fed and warm.

But wanting. Wanting in America was sharper, brighter, different. There was so much more to want. From the moment he stepped off the ship he moved as fast as his little legs would carry him. He moved to learn English, to get out of the classroom full of tiny children and catch up with his peers, he moved to learn the streets and determine how to make money any way he could. He moved as fast as he could because he knew the goal was to leave the Lower East Side behind him. To move fast enough that one day he could even outrun wanting.

But nothing, not a lifetime of yearning for acceptance and security, held a candle to his ever-present need for Charlie. There was no part of him that did not want every part of Charlie. And as much as his wants dictated every carefully crafted move of his life, there was nothing he wanted more than Charlie. In his life, in his office, in his bed. Even if it made no sense. Even if it had no place in his plan.

"He was circling round you like a bitch in heat," Charlie continued.

"The way Gillian Darmody circled around you? The way the chorus girls do?" Meyer snapped back. He spent years, he spent agonizing nights, watching Charlie charm women whose desire for him was as clear as the powder on their faces.

"That's different, and you know it well as me."

"How?"

"They're broads, Meyer! It don't matter like..." Charlie stopped talking, not knowing how to put into words what mattered. They was just broads. They wasn't in his mind like Meyer was. Even Meyer wasn't with him he could still hear the little addin' machine in his head, telling him to be smart. Telling him to think.

Being with those women was like grabbing a dog from a cart and eating it on the street. Scratched the itch of need. Satisfying enough at the moment.

Being with Meyer was different and Meyer damn well knew it. They was friends and they was more and when more changed to be even more...It ain't like people understood their friendship anyway. The Jew and the Italian.  They was supposed to be mortal enemies, not friends for life. Not...whatever they was.

"I gotta keep up appearances," Charlie said because that was also a true thing. He hadn't told Meyer that Clara knew. No need to introduce complications. They was careful. They was always careful. "That's why I can't believe you let the guy get near you like that."

Meyer shook his head. "Charlie, he's married. To Lady Rose. I think he's just an adventurer."

"Yeah. I know what adventure he's after," Charlie responded.

"A man like that..."

"What? You think you ain't good enough for a fonferer like that cercatore d'oro? What, you just good enough for the likes of me, that it?"

The petulance in Charlie's voice was so familiar. "Charlie, come here."

"Mey, I ain't in the mood."

Meyer doubted that. Charlie was rarely not in the mood. "Charlie," he said again.

Charlie heard the gruff tone in Meyer's voice. He was angry, he was still angry, but that tone in Meyer's voice always did the same thing to him. Instinct drove him to Meyer's side.

Didn't mean he wasn't still angry, though. He sat next to Meyer silently. One man wearing an undershirt that buttons with sleeves that come down to his elbows, although the width of his shoulders and upper arms often mean the seams ripped and tore and stretched due to the strain placed upon them. The other man wore the new kind of undershirt-knit, sleeveless, no buttons.

Charlie told Meyer all the time he should switch. Be more modern. But Meyer couldn't quite break away from tradition in some matters.

"There will always be others, won't there, Charlie?" Meyer asks, and even though he knew the answer for a moment he willed Charlie to lie to him. "After all, we'll have to marry one day, won't we?"

"I ain't. Look at Harrow and Clara."

Meyer turned to stare at Charlie. Personally, he thought Harrow had chained himself to a klafte in pearls. But the man seemed to love her. And Clara seemed as happy as he thought her capable of being.

"Harrow seems content enough."

"That ain't the thing, Mey. They love each other. But we all know how this ends. Clara sobbing over a morgue slab with Darmody's brat and a baby or two besides clinging to her. I ain't gonna do that to a woman."

Such a delicate jaw in such a strong face, Meyer thought idly before bringing Charlie's face to his. Charlie didn't fight it, and soon their mouths were finishing the disagreement. Charlie fell first-Charlie always fell first-letting his mouth open and Meyer plunder its depths.

Charlie's mouth tasted of hot honey and something deeper, sweeter, more savory. It was the taste and sensation he spent a lifetime chasing down in penny candy bins and bakeries and sweet shops. Much like with the candy he had kept in his pockets from the first time he had spare pennies, he knew he'd never have enough of it.

It was the sweetness he'd always craved.

The hard, taut muscles of Charlie Luciano's body, the ones that struck fear around the underworld (and occasionally in the upper echelons) of New York went soft and loose as something else grew hard. Without realizing it, Meyer turned Charlie so he was on his knees, his head laying on the soft Irish linen pillowcase embroidered with the ever-present P.

Meyer's left hand drifted over the hard muscles of Charlie's stomach down to the mother of pearl buttons on Charlie's beloved silk boxers. His fingers drifted over the buttons but didn't try to undo them. Instead, he reached down to the impossibly soft skin of Charlie's inner thigh and began drawing lazy circles. His right hand combed through Charlie's thick dark curls before yanking sharply so Charlie had to turn his face to Meyer to save his hair, their faces so close they were breathing in each other's breaths.

"Tell me, Charlie. Tell me why I'm different from Gillian and those broads."

Charlie's breath was hot and fast. "God damn it, Mey. Just touch me."

"Tell me the things I do to you I'll never do to Dennis Malley," Meyer said, his hand cupping over Charlie's bulge momentarily before going back to stroking his inner thigh.

"You do lots of stuff I'd fucking kill anybody else for," Charlie said, knowing they were journeying into uncharted territory. "You knot up my god damn hands with your tie."

Meyer leaned over so his face was against the smooth back of Charlie's neck, wanting to inhale Charlie's scent, wanting to inhale Charlie. "Yes, true. What else," he asked while his hand slid under the paisley silk to caress the very tip of Charlie's cock.

Charlie tried to push his hips into Meyer's fingers but Meyer removed his hand from Charlie's hair and grabbed him around the hips. "Don't even try it," Meyer whispered harshly.

"You put your prick in my mouth and push it in until I choke. You like it when I choke."

True, Meyer thought, because who wouldn't want Charlie on his knees? Who wouldn't want to see those pretty lips wrapped around their cock? He rewarded Charlie with a quick tug that made both of them momentarily forget to breathe.

"You make me grab my own prick and you watch. Sometimes you put your fingers in...god damn it, Meyer, you know where you put your fingers."

For a moment Meyer's hands brushed back against the buttons. What did it matter, he decided, Charlie bought his silk underwear by the gross. He yanked on them so hard that the mother of pearl buttons scattered across the thick antique rug. Filled with a need to feel the silky soft flesh of Charlie's back under the thick fur of his chest he first pushed up Charlie's undershirt until it was wrapped around Charlie's shoulders before Meyer sat back on his own knees to more carefully remove his own underthings. After all, he'd spent good money on them. No need for carelessness.

"For our mutual benefit you should continue," Meyer growled, fighting the urge to have Charlie right now.

Charlie licked his lips. Meyer was leaning over him to grab something from the bag on the floor, causing Meyer's dick to press against his lower back. It gave him some satisfaction to realize Meyer was as hard as he was. He writhed under Meyer and was rewarded by Meyer groaning above him. He heard the sound of glass and the knowledge of what was in Meyer's hand made precum start leaking out of the tip of his dick.

"You put on oil on your fingers and then you put oil on me and sometimes you put oil on my hand so I can rub it on your dick," Charlie finally managed to say.

Meyer's hand was covered with oil as it started massaging the top of Charlie's ass. Charlie groaned as Meyer's fingers slipped into his crack.

The light coming in the edges of the curtains was changing but Meyer was too distracted by the sight in front of him to think about what that meant. He was intoxicated by the scent, sight, and feel of Charlie. "What else?"

The linen of the pillowcase was now being crushed between Charlie's fingers. The fuck if he was going to ruin this moment like a damn kid. "You put me on my side," Charlie continued after taking a deep breath and Meyer moved him so quickly he fell onto his side with a thump.

After positioning Charlie's legs to his liking Meyer continued to let his hand move down.

"You push your fingers inside me," Charlie managed to gasp out as he felt one of Meyer's fingers breach him. "Mey, your fingers are so fucking thick."

Meyer lowered his mouth onto the top of Charlie's shoulders, his own breath coming at an incredibly thick pace, overtaken by the need to taste Charlie's flesh salty and warm under his tongue. Neither man noticed the bedside clock striking six.

Nor did they notice the train was no longer rocking beneath them.

With great care Meyer worked in a second finger and started scissoring, looking for the spot that always made Charlie howl.

Charlie howled. Meyer pressed harder.

"God damn it, Meyer, god damn it..." Charlie pleaded.

"Say it," Meyer begged, his breath hot against Charlie's ear, the game having rebounded until his need was as raw and urgent as Charlie's own.

"I want you, Mey, please," Charlie finally sobbed out. "You fuck me, you fuck me, holy mother of god please just fuck me."

"Charlie, god," Meyer breathed out, his heart hammering in his chest.

The words falling from Charlie's mouth dissolved into nonsense. For a moment their faces were pressed together, letting Meyer feel the pulse in Charlie's temple in the bones of his own face.

Once more Meyer pressed his fingertips against Charlie's jaw and their mouths opened to each other. There was no more dominance or one-upmanship. Instead, there was the slow slide of their mouths melding together until Meyer can no longer determine where he ends and Charlie begins.

One hand gripped Charlie's hip, holding him in place. Meyer could feel the tenseness in Charlie when he first breached him and the pain hit, but after a moment he could feel Charlie's muscles relaxing under his hand.

"I gotta move, tesoro," Meyer finally breathed out.

One of Charlie's hands braced against the soft mossy velvet of the headboard while his other reached back for any part of Meyer he could touch. It didn't matter that Meyer was ever so slowly moving ever deeper inside him. He needed more. He wanted everything.

"Move, libster. Damn it, move," Charlie answered, his hand finally finding Meyer's ass to pull him closer, to pull him further in.

Time lost meaning. Seconds, minutes, hours, days fell away. There was just this. Meyer's hand finally came around to touch Charlie in the way Charlie had wanted since the game began, since time began.

Finally, they fell into the soaked sheets, the ruins of Charlie's underthings trapped beneath them, their legs and hands twisted together, both of them breathless and boneless. Their faces were still pressed together and as Meyer relaxed back into sleep he realized their faces were wet.

He wasn't sure who had cried.

[typical-simplelove]

It's the Memories - 40s Series (J. Oleksiak)

Summary: On your and Jamie's wedding anniversary, you both recount the love story you both had throughout the war.

Series Masterlist

A/n: Here's the next part! This one took a bit of time, but I hope you enjoy it! This one exists in the same universe as the Roope fic from earlier in the series (yes, I know they're both reader inserts, but oh well!) Let me know what you thought!

Warnings: Mentions of war, doctors appointments

Word Count: 9.1k

Note: Italics are flashbacks.

“You know,” Alissa, your eldest daughter states. “We don’t really know you guys’ love story. We know that you met during the war but nothing else.”

“In the spirit of celebrating your wedding anniversary, what if you shared?” Dawson, Alissa’s husband states.

You look at Jamie. “What do you think?”

“That’s a lovely idea,” Jamie says. “I guess we start at the beginning, then.”

“How did you first meet?” Clara, your granddaughter asks.

“That’s a difficult question, Clara,” Jamies says, and you begin to shake your head. “What? It is.”

“I’m confused,” Alissa says.

“Your father has a memory of meeting me before I remember meeting him,” you explain.

“Really, dad?” Alissa asks. “Mum has an amazing memory; I think she’d know if she met you before.”

“Why would I forget meeting the most beautiful woman in the world?”

“He’s making things up,” you say. “But thank you for the compliment. You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.”

“Really? Some of the soldiers in my unit were quite studs. Like, Roope? If he didn’t have a girl back home, I think I’d be slightly scared of you want him.”

“But I married you,” you remind him.

“Right, that you did.”

“Dad, why don’t you tell your version of meeting mom, and then, mom, you go,” Brandon, your son suggests.

“Jame, you go,” you tell your husband.

“Well, we were on the USS Harmon heading for England, and your mom was a Red Cross nurse.

When you signed up to be at the Red Cross, you were expecting to help in the Texas Area, not in England. However, you jumped at the chance to help the troops overseas as a nurse. That’s how you ended up on the USS Harmon. Not an easy trip, you found it incredibly difficult to be on the ship. You were incredibly seasick and were in constant need of a toilet or bag.

Tonight was no exception. One of the other Red Cross ladies said that going outside would be good for you to do to settle your stomach. Yeah, as you were standing outside, you didn’t think it was working. You were cold, and your stomach was so queasy you weren’t sure if you’d make it through the rest of the trip.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” a soldier asks.

“I mean, technically, no,” you answer.

“May I ask what’s wrong?”

“I’m quite chilly, and I’m incredibly nauseous. I’m afraid I’m going to throw up.”

“Here,” he tells you as he shrugs off his jacket. “Take my jacket; you look like you need it more than I do.”

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll probably head inside soon.”

“Well, here’s a bag that I always have on me. I don’t get queasy often, so you can have my bag.”

You take the bag out of his hand. “Thank you. I’m going to head inside now. Again, thank you.”

“Of course, have a goodnight, ma’am.”

“Goodnight.”

Despite the dim moonlight, Jamie knew you were the most beautiful woman ever.

“You really thought grandma was the most beautiful woman in the world?” Clara asks.

“I did, and she still is,” Jamie answers.

“For everyone’s information, I don’t remember that,” you say. “Also, you never got my name so who are you to remember that it was me.”

“You greatly underestimate my love for you,” Jamie says.

“I don’t think so.”

“Mom, you go,” Alissa directs.

“Sure, well, we met after we’ve already landed on land.”

“Oh, thank goodness, we’ve made it,” Elizabeth says. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it.”

“I was ready to hurl myself off of the boat,” you say. You were glad that you’ve landed; you weren’t sure what you’d be able to do if you had to go another day on that boat.

“Well, let’s go find the rest of the Red Cross ladies, so we can head to our base,” Clara says.

The three of you head off towards the signs that say “Red Cross”. On your way, though, you trip and fall. Luckily, though, someone catches you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” you say. You look up and see the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Oh course, ma’am,” he says to you. He sets you up, and you catch a light tint of red on his cheeks. “Lieutenant Jamie Olesiak.”

“Red Cross Nurse, Yn Yln. Nice to meet you.”

A weird look crosses Jamie’s face. “Yeah, nice to meet you, too,” he says. You couldn’t quite tell what Jamie’s expression was.

“I have to go, but it was nice to meet you,” you tell him with a smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“See you around,” Jamie says and watches you walk away. There’s a soft smile resting on his face. He knew that you were going to be a vital part of his life.

“You are already so whipped for her,” Tyler says, clapping Jamie on the shoulder. “This is going to be interesting.”

That was true, Jamie was indeed quite whipped for you.

“Your dad had a weird look on his face, and I still can’t quite tell you why,” you say after recounting the story.

“I probably had a weird look on my face because I already remember meeting you,” Jamie recounts.

“Sure, sure,” you say. “I’m not saying that I met you, but you should know better than anyone that when I get sick, I get tunnel vision and forget everything.”

“So you’re telling me that there’s a chance that we’ve met?”

You smile. “There is a chance, but I guess we’ll never know.”

“Grandma, tell us about the next time you saw Grandpa again,” Clara asks eagerly.

“Well, it was at a pub about a month later,” you begin. “It was a day off for both of us, and we happened to run into each other.”

You followed Elizabeth into the hole-in-the-wall pub that she said was amazing. She went on a date the previous week at this place and ate here. She insisted that she absolutely had to take you. You both take a seat at a table and look at the menu.

“Ms. Yln?” someone says from the table to your right. You slightly swivel your head to see who it is.

“Lieutenant Oleksiak,” you say with a smile. Your simple smile was enough to set Jamie’s heart rate through the roof. How is that possible? “How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here,” Jamie says with a flirty edge in his voice.

You raise your eyebrows. “Is that so? Aren’t you smooth?”

“I have to try for a pretty girl to remember me.”

“Pretty girl, huh?” you repeat.

“That’s a bit of an understatement because you are so beautiful.”

You feel the heat rush to your face. Jamie really knew how to flatter you. You were about to say something when someone at Jamie’s table cleared his throat. “I’ll let you get back to your table and company,” you say. “It was nice to see you again.”

Jamie looks at you with a soft smile before returning back to his table.

“So, Jamie?” Elizabeth asks. “He’s cute.”

You nod.

“Maybe you should ask him out or something.”

“No, no,” you say and drop your voice. “I can’t have anything distracting me while I help nurse these soldiers back to life.”

“Why are we whispering?” Elizabeth loudly whispers. Jamie glances at you from the corner of his eyes and softly chuckles. This was why you wanted to whisper, so Jamie couldn’t hear you. Despite you finding Jamie incredibly attractive, you didn’t want to lead into his advances knowing he could distract you from your ultimate goal.

You glare at Elizabeth, and you hear Jamie chuckle again.

“Oh, that’s why we’re whispering,” Elizabeth says in a whisper this time.

You sigh and shake your head. “Let’s just eat.”

“Grandpa, did you hear their conversation?” Clara asks cheekily.

Jamie nods. “I did indeed. It pained me just a little bit knowing Grandma didn’t want to date me, but I knew she’d fall for me eventually.”

You shake your head playfully. “You never lost that cockiness, did you?”

“May I remind you that you married me and knew exactly what you were getting yourself into all those years ago?”

“That I did.”

“How long did it take for you to finally go on a date with dad?” Alissa asks.

“It took me scheming with her friends for us to finally go on a date,” Jamie answers.

“How long was that?”

“Almost a year.”

“A whole year?” everyone gasps.

“In my defense, it wasn’t like we saw each other every day. For the first twelve months, we probably only saw each other once a month.”

“Tells us about that,” Sawyer, your four-year-old grandson says.

“If you insist,” Jamie says and throws a wink. Despite being together for years and years, he still had the ability to make you flustered and bring heat to your face with just a simple wink.

July 1942

“We have boxes and supplies for the nurses,” Jamie says to the woman sitting at the front of the nurses' offices.

“Perfect,” she says. “You can just bring it to the back for Ms. Yln. She’s in the last room on the right.”

At the sound of your last name, Jamie smiles. “Yn?”

“Oh right, you’re Jamie, right?” the woman says. “Elizabeth was telling us about the soldier who’s quite keen about her.”

“Keen is an understatement,” Tyler says from behind Jamie. “We just go down the hall?”

The woman nods. “Yes, that exactly.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, but what’s your name?” Tyler asks.

“Kate,” she responds.

“Kate, I’m Tyler,” he says with a smile. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around,” Kate responds, and Tyler and Jamie head down the hall.

The boys walk down the hall, and Jamie knocks on the door that you’re standing in. At the sound of a knock, you turn around and lookup.

“Ms, Yln, we bring supplies,” Jamie says with a smile that ignites the butterflies in your stomach.

“That’s perfect, thank you,” you say. “You can leave them on the table over there, and I’ll put them away.”

“I’m going to head back to the truck and grab the final few boxes,” Tyler says. “You can stay here and help her begin putting them away.”

Jamie nods. He’d do anything to spend more time around you. “How can I help?” he asks.

“Just put the supplies where the labels match,” you tell him.

“That makes sense,” Jamie says in a tone that makes you giggle. Hearing you giggle, Jamie looks at you and thinks he’s fallen for your more.

After about five minutes of placing bandages and supplies away, Jamie finally decides to open his mouth to say something. “Are you doing anything this Friday?” he asks.

“Oh, I think Elizabeth wants to take me and Kate to this pub that she’s been to and that she says is amazing,” you say oblivious to the true intentions behind Jamie’s words.

“Oh,” Jamie says deflatedly. He wasn’t sure what answer he was looking for, but it wasn’t that.

“May I ask why you wanted to know?” you ask with a smile on your face looking up at Jamie.

He meets your eyes. You could give him that smile every time, and he knew you could get away with anything. (You got away with everything to this day with that smile.) “Oh, I was just asking.”

You widen your smile. “Why were you just asking?”

“No reason.”

“No reason?” you ask in a voice that Jamie knows that he can’t resist.

“I wanted to ask to see if I could take you out for dinner,” Jamie replies in a voice that was a cross between a mumble and a whisper.

“Oh,” you say; however, your voice was very low. Jamie only knew what you were saying because of the shape of your mouth. “Maybe another time?” you suggest.

Jamie’s mood does a three-sixty and smiles. “Yeah! Another time.”

You were going to say something else, but you could hear Tyler approaching the room you were currently in. “This is the last of them,” Tyler says.

You nod. “Thank you so much for this. Um, see you around?”

Jamie smiles at you. “See you around, definitely.”

August 1942

“If it isn’t the elusive Ms. Yn Yln, the Red Cross’ finest nurse,” Tyler says as he walks into the medical examination room. Once a month, the pilots had to come in for a check-up to make sure that the altitude changes weren’t causing them to get sick. Today, you were making those checkups. It also happened to be that you were going to be examining Jamie’s unit.

“How am I elusive, Mr. Seguin?” you say with a chuckle.

“You drive Jamie crazy after he sees you for all of five minutes. Your smile or laugh or whatever makes him go crazy, and then he doesn’t see you again for a while. Just when he’s about to kind of get over you, there’s an opportunity for him to see you again and make him go crazy about you again.”

“Oh.”

“He’s head over heels for you, so I’m asking you to be nice to him, please,” Tyler says.

You nod. “Let’s get started on this examination.”

You finish the examination in twenty minutes, and you deem Tyler healthy. You excuse Tyler and tell him to send in the next soldier.

“Guess who’s conducting our examinations today?” Tyler says to the men in front of him. “Yn Yln.”

Jamie blushes at the mere sound of your name.

“This the girl that Jamie is in love with?” Miro asks.

“Yup,” Tyler says, putting an emphasis on the p.

“I’m not in love with her,” Jamie grumbles with a smile on his face.

“No, no, you are,” Tyler insists. “You have the same look on your face that Roope has whenever he gets a letter from his girl back home.”

Roope was about to contradict Tyler’s comment, but you walk out before he can say anything. “Tyler, you were supposed to the next person back.”

“Yn,” Jamie says and immediately stands up.

“Jamie, you’re next?” you ask with a smile. Jamie nods enthusiastically, and you laugh in response. “Follow me.”

Jamie follows you into the examination room with a blush lining his cheeks. “I never got the chance to take you out for dinner,” he says.

You turn to face Jamie. “In my defense, I don’t really know how to reach you, but you do.”

“So, this is my fault?” Jamie says with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean, just a little bit,” you say teasingly.

“Can I at least get a redo? A chance to take you out?”

You nod. “Sure, you can take me out.”

“I can’t wait,” Jamie says and flashes you a smile that makes your heart beat faster.

“Why don’t we conduct your examination first to make sure you’re healthy enough to even take me out, yeah?”

“What?” Jamie says, and his face pales. There’s a chance he might not be healthy enough?

“Don’t worry,” you say with a light chuckle. “You were able to walk in here fine, so I think you’re going to be just fine.”

“Oh,” Jamie says relieved. Turns out, he was fine. Jamie left the examination room walking on clouds knowing that he would finally get the chance to take you out.

“You’re telling me that mum didn’t go out with you the first time you asked her out?” Alissa asks.

“She did not,” Jamie answers. “Your mum strung me along thinking I had a chance with a beautiful woman.”

“I did not,” you say. “In my defense, I had a job to do, and I didn’t want it to get in the way. Also, I really didn’t have any way to contact you.”

“But, you guys are here now, so it doesn’t really matter,” Clara says. “Grandpa, continue telling

me the story.”

September 1942

It was a Sunday afternoon, and you had the day off. To take advantage of the day off and the nice weather, you, Kate, and Elizabeth decided to head into the town to go for a walk and grab dinner later that evening. You were walking on the path that was adjacent to the duck pond. The three of you were talking about the recent film Kate saw when she went on a date (not with Tyler, he also had yet to follow up on the date he wanted to have). You wanted to stop for a moment to observe the view. So you told the girls to continue ahead, and you’d catch up with them later.

“Isn’t this weird?” a deep voice says next to you. “Maybe the universe wants to tell us that we should finally go out on a date.”

You turn to the voice and smile. “Hello, Jamie.”

“Yn, how are you?”

“I’m doing well, and you?”

“Could be better, but oh well.”

“How so?” you ask.

Jamie looks at you and smiles. “You could finally let me take you out.”

“That’s what’s causing your so-called foul mood?” you tease. You were going to let him take you out one day; however, you weren’t going to go after him. You were going to stick to your proclamation that you didn’t want to get involved with anyone because it might make it difficult to do your job. You weren’t going to go out of your way to look for him, but you also weren’t going to avoid him. If Jamie happened to stop by and see you to confirm a time and place for this date, then, yes, you’d go out with him.

“It is,” he says. “You keep saying that you’ll go out with me, but we never end up going out. I wonder why that is.”

“I, for one, don’t know where to go to find you,” you say in defense.

“So, this is my fault?”

“It kind of is your fault,” Brandon says to Jamie. “From what I can tell, mom didn’t have any way to get in contact with you or see you, but you did.”

“Wow, traitors,” Jamie says feigning hurt. “Your mother did just admit it, though, that she wasn’t outright going out of her way to try to make this date happen.”

“That’s on you, mom,” Alissa says. “Dad, though, I think it’s mostly you to blame. As far as I can tell, you were holding on to each encounter with mom. On the other hand, mom was totally fine with what she could get from you.”

“See?” you say to your husband. “It kind of is your fault.”

“Just continue the story,” Sawyer whines.

“Okay, okay,” Jamie says and continues.

“I mean, I’m a very busy person, and, as I’ve said, I don’t know how or where to find you,” you say. “However, you know exactly where to find me, yet you never come to try to set up this date.”

Jamie looks at you and smiles. He knew he was falling for you hard because he immediately agreed with you. You could have said that the earth was flat (it’s not, very much round), and he’d believe you. Jamie was falling for you, hard, and he needed to figure out a way for you to either feel the same way or find a way for him to get over you. One thing that Jamie was that he wanted to marry you one day. You had the energy, spunk, and wit that he knew he wanted his future wife to have. On top of that, you were so beautiful that he didn’t have to worry about what your children would like because as long as they got your looks, they were set for life. “Well, then, how about next Friday? I’ll pick you up at the nurses’ station where you are at 6, and I’ll take you out for dinner.”

“I’d like that a lot,” you tell Jamie.

As the days got closer to Friday, your smile somehow got wider and wider. You didn’t know if it was possible, but you were floating on clouds by the time noon rolled around on Friday. You were sitting in the common area of the nurses' station on your break when Jamie walked in with a sad expression on his face. “I didn’t realize it was already 6,” you say trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh, my bad,” Jamie says, but his facial expression has yet to change. “Yn, I’m sorry. We have a last-minute mission to fly tonight, and I can’t leave the base.”

“Oh,” you say softly. You look up at Jamie and see how sad he looks. You knew that you had to be positive for him so that he doesn’t get distracted as he flies tonight. “Hey, don’t worry about it.”

“Really?” Jamie says, and his eyes perk up.

“Yeah! I mean, we are in wartime, so there are going to be some hiccups of things that need to take precedent. We’ll have that date eventually, don’t worry.”

Jamie nods and a smile developed on his face. “Okay, if you’re sure. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. So, you and Jamie weren’t going to get that date. Despite you trying to act nonchalant about him and the date, you deep down were disappointed. You knew that you shouldn’t be this disappointed, but you still were. You knew that if you didn’t stop yourself that you’d be halfway to loving him by the end of the month.

October 1942

Despite already having one date already planned, you hadn’t seen Jamie in almost a month. It seemed to be a theme between the two of you. You understood, however, that it happened. After all, you and Jamie were both working during wartime. That didn’t mean you didn’t miss him, though.

On this particular Saturday in October, Kate wanted to go to the cinema with you and Elizabeth to enjoy the last few days of warm weather. So, at 6pm, you, Elizabeth, and Kate left base and headed off to the cinema. Before going to the movie, the three of you decided to go and grab dinner first. There was a pub not far from the cinema, so that’s where the three of you went.

“I’m sorry, we currently don’t have many open tables that are clean,” the hostess says. “Do you mind waiting a few minutes?”

“Of course, no problem,” you told the hostess and went to find the other girls. You went in to try to get a table first. When you find Elizabeth and Kate, you notice that they’re talking to a group of American soldiers. Interesting, you wondered who they were.

“Yn, look who we ran into?” Kate says excitedly. You scan the group and smile. Of course. Who else would it be except for Jamie, Tyler, Esa, Roope, Miro, and Jason?

“Well, look who it is,” Tyler says. “Miss breaks Jamie’s poor heart.”

Jamie elbows Tyler in the ribs and turns to you. “Ignore him.”

“Hi, Jamie,” you say. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that by the way.”

“Don’t worry, truly. We’re both busy.”

Jamie looks at you with a curious eye. “Sure, but I feel like if we were able to have our date, then we’d be seeing each other more often.”

“Is that so?” you ask. “You could have come to me.”

Jamie laughs and shakes his head. “I guess as long as you have no way of reaching me, then it will be my fault?”

“Uh-huh,” you say with a smile.

“Whatever can I do to make it up to you?” Jamie asks.

“You can join us for dinner and head to the cinema with us,” Kate pipes in.

Jamie looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Did you want me to come?”

“If you would like, but I’m not sure if there’s going to be enough room at your table for everyone,” you say.

“Don’t worry, Kate and I will do our own thing,” Tyler says and winks at Kate.

“Why don’t I go in and see if they can accommodate all of us?” you suggest. “I’ll imply we’re going to be tipping very, very well.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jamie offers. This man was way too sweet.

“Thank you,” you tell him and lead him towards the door. “Thank you,” you say again as Jamie holds the door open for you. “Thank you,” you say once again as Jamie helps you steer through the crowds.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know,” Jamie says.

You feel the heat rush to your face. “Maybe then you shouldn’t keep doing things that result in me thanking you.”

“Noted,” Jamie says. He didn’t say it in any different or notable way. However, the way he said it brought warmth rushing to your face and made your heart flutter. You wanted to further contemplate these thoughts, but, thankfully, you and Jamie walked up to the hostess’s podium.

“Would it be possible to accommodate six more people?” you ask. The hostess tells you to give her a moment to check. When she returns, she tells you that it’s possible and that a table can be ready in just a few moments. “Why don’t I go out and tell the rest of our group that the table will be ready and that they should come in.”

“No, no, I don’t think so,” Jamie says protectively. “I’m not letting you go out there alone with drunk soldiers walking around this place. I’ll go.”

Your heart warms at his words. “You’re going to let me stay here by myself, then?”

Jamie looks at you. “You got me there, but no. I think it’s better here, so I’ll go get them, okay? Don’t go anywhere. Don’t move.”

You nod. “Yes, sir,” you say and mock salute. Jamie just smiles at you and shakes his head. As he’s walking away, he turns back around and glances at you. You take a small step to your left as a joke, and Jamie just widens his grin. You’d do anything to get a smile like that out of him.

He returns with the rest of the group in just a few moments, and you’re all heading to your table almost immediately. Jamie falls in step with you and leans his head down to whisper in your ear. “I thought I asked you not to move.”

You look up at the man next to you. “Sure,” you say. “May I ask why it truly matters?”

“I was worried about you,” he says softly.

You look up at him and grab his hand. You intertwine your fingers with his and squeeze his hand. “May I ask why?”

“No reason,” Jamie says, but you know there is a reason. You wanted to question why he refused to tell you the reason, but you opted that it was better to do it another time.

“Grandpa, what was the reason?” Clara asks.

Jamie looks at you. “I guess you’ll finally find out.”

“I guess I will,” you reply. “What was the reason?”

“I love you. Well, I loved you.”

“I know you love me, but why were you worried about me?”

“Because I loved you,” Jamie repeats. When he notices that you don’t quite understand what he’s referencing, he decides to explain. “I loved you and never stopped worrying about you. I didn’t want you to leave because I didn’t know if you’d disappear from my life again.”

“Why would I disappear from your life again?” you ask puzzled.

“I was in love with you, and it seemed that I only saw you once or twice a month. I didn’t like that.”

“Oh,” you say. “I hope that me taking a step about an inch to the left didn’t give you a heart attack.”

“No, but you holding my hand did,” Jamie says. “Clara, did you know that Uncle Tyler made fun of me for almost three weeks because of grandma holding my hand?”

“Really?” Clara says through giggles.

Jamie nods. “Yes, he did. Almost every day after that, I would bring it up, or I’d drift thinking about it. Uncle Tyler was ready to tease me every time.”

“It’s a good thing you guys got married, then,” Clara says.

“Why’s that?” you ask your granddaughter.

“Because you get to hold grandpa’s all the time, and it isn’t a memory anymore,” Clara says excitedly.

“Was that the reason you married grandma?” Sawyer asks. “So that you could always hold her hand?”

“That was one of the reasons, yes,” Jamie says and winks at you. “I married her because I loved her and couldn’t go a single day without her.”

“Is that why you married grandpa?” Sawyer asks you.

“I married your grandfather because I loved him more than anything in the world,” you reply.

“Do you still love him the most?”

“I do,” you say and smile at Jamie.

November 1942

To celebrate Thanksgiving, the American Red Cross was putting on a Thanksgiving dinner for the troops. On this day, you got the day off and were able to join the rest of the nurses and soldiers celebrating the holiday. You and Elizabeth made your way to the mess hall as directed and walked inside. You were both met with the smells that reminded you both of home. You began to grow sad imagining what your parents’ house must be like with all the cousins running around and the smells of the food cooking that you’d be missing.

“Well, look who it is,” Esa says. “The woman who is in love with Jamie but refuses to go on a date with him.”

“That’s not true,” you say. “We planned a date, but we had to cancel because he had a late-night flight. Speaking of Jamie, where is he?”

“Jamie? He’s outside.”

You say a brief thanks and go out to find him. You look around briefly before finding him.

“Hey,” you say quietly, not wanting to scare him. Jamie was sitting on a bench with his head between his legs. “Is everything okay?”

Jamie looks up and sees you. “Hey, yeah, I think so.”

You sit down next to him and begin stroking small circles on Jamie’s back. He never knew that such a simple touch could be so comforting. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Jamie shrugs.

“Okay, well, I’m here if you want to,” you say and continue to stroke soft patterns on Jamie’s back.

Almost five minutes pass before Jamie says something again. “I never realized how much I miss my family. Obviously, I know that I miss my family and stuff because obviously, I’m on the other side of the ocean. I never really got homesick at first, but the holidays are making me realize how much I miss everyone.”

You nod. You understand where he was coming from. Just the other day, you got a letter from your mother about how your sister was pregnant. Pregnant! You never realized how much you were missing. “Anything I can do?”

Jamie looks at you and smiles. “Let me take you on a date?”

You begin to giggle. “Really? Wow, you’re really using your moment of weakness to egg that on me, aren’t you.”

“I mean, I really like you, so it shouldn’t matter,” Jamie says. “Though, if me being in a moment of weakness means that you’d let me take you out, then yes.”

You shake your head playfully. “I’m all for you taking me out.”

“Then, why haven’t I taken you out?”

“You were going to, but then you had a night flight to make. We just haven’t found a time that works recently.”

“How about before Christmas?” Jamie proposes.

“I can do that,” you say with a smile. Would this be the time you finally got a date?

December 1942

“Knock, knock,” Jamie says as he knocks on the door in the examination room you were in.

You turn your head to the noise and smile widely when you see that it’s Jamie. “Jamie.”

“Yn.”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you ask.

“I have something for you,” Jamie tells you. “It’s a holiday present.”

“Holiday present?” you ask curiously.

Jamie blushes. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you celebrated Christmas or anything, but I wanted to give you a present anyway. So, I’m calling it a holiday present.”

“I didn’t get you anything, though.”

Jamie looks at you, and he thinks he falls more in love. “It’s not a gift exchange, yn. It’s a gift for you from my heart.”

“From your heart?” you say teasingly, and Jamie blushes further. “I’m kidding, don’t worry.”

“Here,” he hands you a red bag. “Open it.”

You take the bag out of his hand, and your fingers brush his ever so slightly. At the touch, you feel the heat rise to your face. Your next immediate thought is “what would it be like to hold Jamie’s hand entirely?”

“I think you’ll like it,” Jamie whispers. He’s quite flustered after the little touch you both just experienced.

You nod unable to meet Jamie’s eyes. The effect he had on you was indescribable. You take the wrapping paper out of the bag and peer into it. “What is it?”

“Why don’t you just open it?” Jamie suggests.

“Or, you could just tell me,” you say flirtily.

“Or, you could just open it.”

“I’ll open it,” you say. You take out the box and open it. Inside is a delicate, simple necklace with your initials on it. “Jamie, you gasp.”

“Do you like it?” he asks eagerly.

“It’s beautiful; I love it,” you tell him with a look of hesitation in your eyes. Could you accept a gift like this?

“I thought you would, but I can also see the hesitation in your eyes. Yn, please, take the gift.”

“Thank you, Jamie, it’s beautiful. Can you help me put it on?” The minute the words come out of your mouth, you want to take them back. If he said yes, then that’d mean Jamie would be touching you. That also meant that you’d probably fall even harder for him.

“Sure,” he tells you. You take the necklace out of the box it’s in and hand it to him. You turn around and adjust your collar and hair so that Jamie has easy access to place the necklace on. He lifts his hands above your head, and you feel the cold of the necklace hit your chest softly. You’re standing there for a few moments as you feel Jamie fiddle with the clasp of the necklace behind you. When finished, Jamie readjusts your collar and tells you he’s finished softly.

“Thank you,” you tell him. You’re barely meeting his eye. Why would you? You just had an extremely intimate moment with someone you’re falling in love with. The heat is radiating off your face, and you’re pretty sure Jamie’s face is a deep crimson, too.

“Of course,” he tells you in a whisper. “It looks beautiful on you.”

You smile at him. “Thank you.”

All of a sudden, Jamie takes a step closer to you, and you do the same. He puts his hand on your waist and begins to lean down. Was he going to kiss you? Was Jamie Oleksiak going to kiss you? Just as he’s getting close to your lips, he’s interrupted by Tyler yelling from the hall.

“Big Rig! We have to go,” Tyler yells. You and Jamie jump apart from each other, and you’re both barely able to meet each other’s eyes. “Woah, dude, why’s your face so red.”

“No reason,” Jamie mumbles and then turns to you. “I’ll see you around?”

You nod. “Thank you so much for the gift. I’ll have to be sure to get you something.”

Jamie smiles at you. “Let me take you out. That’ll be enough.”

“It’s a date!”

“Do you still have the necklace?” Sawyer asks.

“I do still have the necklace,” you answer. You pull the necklace from where it’s sitting around your neck to show your grandson. “And, I still wear it every day.”

“I’ve gotten your grandmother many, many necklaces over the years, but I love that one the most,” Jamie says.

“It’s really pretty, grandma,” Clara says.

“Just like grandma,” Jamie flirts with a wink. Despite the both of you getting quite old, Jamie never hesitates to flirt with you. You smile at your husband as your grandchildren and children moan and throw out a few “ew”s and “yuck”s. You didn’t care. You were in love with your husband and didn’t care who knew.

January 1943

Despite Jamie saying that all you had to do was let him take you out, you still wanted to get him something. In the past month since he gave you the necklace, you had yet to take it off. You also had yet to see him, so it only made sense that it was okay that you haven’t gone out with him. You were still reeling from the memory of Jamie’s hands on your waist and him so close to you. Every time you think of the memory, your face would grow warm and a giant smile would erupt on your face. You only hoped that you’d get to have these moments in person than always in your head.

You spent any and all free time daydreaming about Jamie. You thought about when you’d finally be able to go out with him and have a cute date. You couldn’t wait for it. In the meantime, though, you still were trying to figure out what to get him as a holiday gift.

On a Saturday off, you opted to go into the town to try to find a gift for Jamie. Kate and Elizabeth were both busy, so you’d be on your own. You got off the bus and walked around the main street trying to find a cute shop from which you could shop from. You find one and walk inside. Looking around, you notice that you’d probably be able to find exactly what you would need for Jamie.

You once recall that the soldiers were complaining that the rain was making it incredibly cold in the barracks. You figured that Jamie was in a similar situation, so you decided you were going to try to find a blanket for him to use while he slept. It wasn’t as expensive or nice as the necklace he got you, but it was the thought that counted, right?

You try to find someone who works at the shop to ask if they had what you were looking for. For about twenty minutes, you’re talking with the shopkeeper and find what you’re looking for. You find a green blanket with a white star in each corner. You weren’t sure what each star was meant for, but you figured it probably wasn’t too big a deal. You also opted to buy him a small pocket notebook he can put in the breast pocket of his uniform. You walked out of the store thirty minutes after you walked in and went looking for somewhere to have lunch.

“Yn?” you hear from behind you. Of course, of course, you happened to run into these boys.

“Hey, Tyler,” you say to the man. “Day off?”

“Indeed,” Tyler replies. “Don’t worry, Jamie is just around the corner.”

“I wasn’t --”

“Doesn’t matter, we know how crazy he is for you, so we only hope you’re just as crazy for him,” Roope says.

“Oh, um --”

“Why are we stopping here?” Jamie asks obliviously.

“Guess who we ran into?” Esa teases.

“Who?” Jamie asks, not noticing that you’re standing right there.

“Hey, Jamie,” you say softly.

Jamie’s face turns a blush pink at hearing your voice and looks at you. “Oh! Yn, I didn’t see you there.”

You laugh. “Don’t worry.”

“Why are you in town today?” he asks.

“I had a day off, so I decided to go shopping. Actually, I bought you a holiday gift.”

Jamie frowns. Does this mean that you aren’t going to let him take you out? “Oh.”

You look at him weirdly not sure why he’s acting the way he is. “Here,” you say and hand him the bag.

He takes the bag out of your hand and looks inside. He takes the blanket out and smiles. “A blanket? How did you know this was what I needed?”

“Some of the other soldiers were complaining, so I figured that you’d need one too,” you tell him, and the heat rises to your face.

“Meet us at the restaurant around the corner, okay?” Denis says. “We’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for the time being.”

There wasn’t any room for argument as the group walked away leaving you and Jamie alone.

“I hope it’s warm enough for you.”

“I’ll constantly be warmed at the thought that you bought something for me,” Jamie flirts.

“Oh, yeah?” you say with a raised eyebrow. “Who knew you were so smooth?”

“Every girl I’ve ever gone out with,” Jamie says confidently.

“Oh,” you say sadly. So, he just wants to take you on one date and that’s it?

“That’s a lie,” he corrects. “You’re the only one, yet I still haven’t taken you out yet.”

“Oh,” you say a bit more chipper.

“Because you got me a gift, does that mean I can’t take you out?”

You look at him with a smile. “You can take me out whether or not I got you a gift.”

“I have to join the boys for lunch, but do you want to join us?” Jamie asks nervously.

“Is this you taking me out?” you tease.

“No, I--”

“I’m only teasing. I’d love to join you guys,” you take Jamie’s hand, and he leads you towards the restaurant. Your shopping accomplished exactly what you wanted to get done, and you happened to leave that day with much more. Another fond memory of and with Jamie.

February 1943

“Let’s go over the plan one more time,” Kate says.

“I don’t even know why we need a plan,” you tell them. The plan? The attempt to get you and Jamie together at the Valentine’s Day Dance that night. The Officer’s Club was throwing a Valentine’s Day Dance for the soldiers and nurses to try to give the soldiers something to look forward to. The past month has been hopeful in the war effort with it being possible that it could be over soon. To celebrate, a Valentine’s Day Dance was being thrown.

“We need a plan because the two of you won’t ever get together unless we throw you two together,” Elizabeth says.

You shake your head. “I still don’t think we need a plan.”

“Too bad,” Kate says. “We have a plan. Elizabeth? Please go over it again.”

“Kate and I are going to coordinate with Tyler and Miro to put you and Jamie together as much as possible,” Elizabeth explains. “We are going to ask that they play a slow song so that Jamie will definitely ask you to dance because he is that kind of gentleman after all.”

“But, what if --” you try to say.

“No, we refuse to take any possible worst-case scenarios,” Kate interjects. “It’s not happening. Just enjoy the night and try to finally be with him, so you can both get together finally.”

You nod. “Okay, we’ll get there.”

. . .

The three of you walk into the Officer’s Club, and you’re met with an exorbitant amount of Valentine’s Day decorations. It was truly beautiful, and you felt that the worries of the war slowly drift away. You three walk to find your friends (mostly they want to put their plan into action as soon as possible).

“Hey guys,” Elizabeth says as you walk up to the group. You scan the group and see Tyler, Roope, Esa, Miro, John, and Denis, but you didn’t see Jamie anywhere. Maybe he was getting a drink?

“Hey, ladies,” Tyler says. “Don’t you three look beautiful.”

You all smile in thanks and compliment the boys back to him. You wanted to ask about where Jamie was, but you didn’t want to seem obvious. Thankfully, though, Kate says something for you.

“Where’s Jamie? We need him here, so he and Yn can finally get together.”

“He’s sick,” Roope answers.

“What?” you ask worriedly.

“Yeah, he caught a cold, so he’s staying in tonight. He didn’t want to get anyone else sick or get worse.”

“I hope he’s okay,” you say with a tinge of concern.

“He’s a big boy; he’ll be okay,” Tyler answers. “Although, you can go and see him. I’m sure he’ll love to see you. Our barracks are just a minute walk away.”

Your ears perk up. “Should I? I wouldn’t want him to be alone tonight.”

“Yes, yes, go,” Kate urges.

“I’ll walk you over to see him,” Roope offers. “Despite how close it is, you shouldn’t walk over alone.”

“Thank you, Roope,” you say, and you both head out. As you’re walking, you begin making conversation with him. “How’s your girlfriend back home?”

Despite the dark sky, you know that Roope has blushed. He always does when talking about his girlfriend back home. He’s so in love with her that it’s sickening but also cute. “She’s great. I got a letter from her the other day.”

“Do you miss her?”

“More than anyone or anything in the world.”

Your heart softens at Roope’s words. “You’ll be back home soon to see her; I’m sure of it.”

“I hope so,” Roope says with a sigh. “Here we are.”

“Thank you for walking me,” you say.

“Of course, just try to get him to walk you back, or wait for someone else to leave for the night to walk you back. If you’re not back in a few hours, I’ll come to make sure you’re good, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” you say.

“That’s what Jamie would want for the girl he loves.”

“What?”

Roope looks at you, and his eyes go wide at his mistake. “Nothing, enjoy seeing him.”

Jamie loves you?

You knock on the door and hear someone mumble a “come in”.

“Hey, Jamie,” you say as you walk in.

“Yn?” he asks.

You laugh. “Hey, some of the boys mentioned that you were sick, so I thought I’d come to see you.”

“But I’m sick,” Jamie pouts.

“That’s what I just said,” you said comically.

“Oh.”

“Can I do anything?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I think I’m okay. Just hang out?”

“That I can do,” you say. You ended up staying that night for about two and a half hours until Roope came back. Jamie ended up falling asleep almost half an hour in. You wanted to leave, but you knew that Roope and Jamie would be disappointed in you. You watched Jamie sleep for a bit (in a noncreepy way). There was something very calming about the way he slept. There was something that warms your heart the way he bundled into the blanket you bought him. Just the mere thought and sight of Jamie warmed your heart. Maybe you loved him, too.

July 1943

Jamie couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t keep running into you and falling for you. For the past four months, you and Jamie have randomly run into each other, but each time, Jamie wishes he finally got an actual date to go on a date with you. Every interaction fueled the fire and love in his eyes that kept him going. Every interaction fueled his love for you. Jamie knew you were the most beautiful woman ever. Jamie knew, now, though, that you were the only person for him. Jamie knew that he was going to marry you one day. He tried seeing you and expressing how he feels through chance, but now he was going to get help.

Jamie walks into the Nurses Station in search of Kate or Elizabeth.

“Oh, hey, Mr. Oleksiak, let me go get Yn,” Kate says teasingly as she sees Jamie walk inside.

“Actually,” Jamie stops. “I need your help.

“What for?”

“I keep leaving Yn and me seeing each other to chance, and I’m ridiculously in love with her,” Jamie explains. “I need your help to ensure that I can finally take Yn on a date.”

Kate nods with a giant smile on her face. “Let me help in any way I can.”

. . .

“Don’t forget,” Kate reminds. “We’re going to dinner at that nice restaurant tonight, so dress up nicely.”

You roll your eyes. “I know; you’ve only mentioned it a million times in the past four days.” You, Kate, and Elizabeth were going to a nice restaurant in town to celebrate. Celebrate what? You weren’t quite sure, but you weren’t going to pass up an opportunity to get dressed up.

You get off your shift at 5 that night, and you head to your barrack to get changed. You had a dark green dress that you bought recently but had yet to wear. You style your hair nicely into a ‘do that you know makes you look your best. You adjust the necklace Jamie got you so that the clasp was sitting at the back of your neck. At 5:50, you’re walking back to the Nurses Station to meet the girls. That’s where they decided to meet.

When you show up outside the Nurses Station, you don’t see anyone waiting outside, and most of the lights are off. You couldn’t recall if you were supposed to meet inside or outside, so you went inside knowing that it’d be more comfortable. You walk inside. Instead of seeing Kate and Elizabeth inside, you see Jamie standing there in his Army dress navy blues looking handsomely dashing. He looks almost like a prince.

“Oh, Jamie!” you say surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Wow, yn,” Jamie says as his eyes admire your appearance. “You look so beautiful.”

The heat rushes to your face from being under Jamie’s gaze and his compliment. “Thank you, but you haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh, you look stunning,” Jamie says again. He couldn’t find the words to talk to you because you were so beautiful. Imagine how beautiful you’d look on your wedding day? Jamie, get ahold of yourself, Jamie thinks to himself. You need to take her on a date before you can propose to her.

“Thank you, Jamie; you look quite nice in your dress blues. However, what are you doing here? I’m supposed to be meeting Kate and Elizabeth for dinner tonight.”

“No, you’re not,” Kate says from behind Jamie. Where did she come from?

“You’re having dinner with Jamie instead,” Elizabeth says and emerges from her hiding place.

“Wait, but I thought --” you begin.

“I need help to get us together to go on a date because every time I brought it up, it never happened. I was tired of just seeing you about once a month,” Jamie explains.

You nod. “So you guys worked to get me here?”

Jamie nods.

“Why?” you ask curiously.

Jamie throws a deep chuckle your way and walks towards you. “Is it not obvious, Yn? I am so incredibly in love with you that I can’t keep doing whatever this is. Yn, I need you in my life, and I need you as more than a friend.”

“Well,” you begin after Jamie’s confession. “I’m incredibly in love with you, too, and I want all of that, too.”

Jamie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Oh, thank goodness. Does this mean I can take you out for dinner now?”

You giggle. “Yes, you can.”

Kate clears her throat from behind the two of you. “Flowers?” she asks, reminding Jamie.

Jamie mentally smacks his head. “Right,” he says and takes the flowers from Kate. “These are for you.”

You smile at Jamie’s bashfulness and giggle. “Thank you, Jamie.” You take the flowers from Jamie and lean in to smell them. “They’re beautiful.”

“But not as much as you,” Jamie flirts.

“Okay, you flirt,” you laugh. “Ready to take me out?”

“I’ve been ready for a while,” Jamie says and extends his hand for you to take.

“Be good, you two!” Elizabeth calls out as you both walk out.

As Jamie leads you to the bus, he leans down and places a kiss on your forehead. “You look beautiful.”

You smile at him. “You told me that already.”

“I’m going to keep telling you that for the rest of my life.”

“Thinking about forever already?” you say with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I do plan on marrying you,” Jamie tells you.

“I could be okay with that,” you tell him with a smile. Yeah, you wouldn’t mind marrying Jamie and spending the rest of your life with him.

Present Day

“That’s beautiful,” Alissa says.

“Did you really know you were going to marry grandma?” Clara asks her grandfather excitedly.

Jamie looks at you with a smile. “I did know that I was going to marry grandma. I knew she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and I knew that I was going to marry her the minute I met her.”

“You did?” Sawyer asks.

“I did,” Jamie reiterates. “My life is split into two -- before I met her and after I met her.”

“Which one’s better?” Clara asks excitedly.

“After I met her,” Jamie answers. He puts his hand in yours and looks at you with the most loving eyes. “Every day, I’m living my dream. I love you, Yn.”

You smile at your husband. “I love you, too, Jamie.”

Jamie gets up from his chair and walks over to you. He bends down and groans slightly at his back pains that have come from old age. He kisses you softly. The love in the kiss hasn’t wavered since day one; it’s only grown. You never once doubted his love for you, and he never doubted yours.

Meeting after docking in England (or maybe on that ship, depends on who’s telling the story) was what set your life in motion. You could never imagine a life without Jamie. After all these years, the love you have? It’s in the memories that you’ve shared and will continue to create.

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[heliads]

Training

As an Erudite and member of Jeanine’s inner circle, you’re more than a little surprised when she sends you to Dauntless so you can learn to protect yourself. Will you be able to prove yourself to your fellow Erudites, and also to your trainer, Eric Coulter?

masterlist

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

It wasn’t an easy path to get where you are today. Thinking back to that one moment all those years ago, when you had sliced open your palm and chosen Erudite in front of everyone you held dear, you never could have imagined the trials you’d have to face. The choices you’ve made, the people you’ve been forced to cut out of your life- they’ve all been for one goal: the future of Erudite.

You had worked harder than you ever had before, struggling to stay afloat when it seemed like everyone in the world knew more than you, and was keen to keep it that way. Yet, here you are- one of the most trusted members of Jeanine’s inner circle. You had helped form her plan to control the factions, had been there since the beginning and helped carefully mold it into the master scheme it was today. Everything had been for the future of Erudite as the crowning glory of the factions.

And here she is, sending you to Dauntless.

Jeanine sighs and shakes her head. “I know how you feel, but this is for the best. You need to go to Dauntless, not only to ensure that our forces there are prepared for the next few steps to take but also to protect yourself. If you train with Dauntless, in the private sessions so no one else suspects anything, you will have the tools to defend yourself if necessary. You’re one of my most important allies, Y/N. If you are attacked or even die, the entire project could fall apart.”

You look at her, still more than a little disgruntled. “Flattering me won’t do anything to convince me to do this.” Jeanine lets a small smile cross the usual thin slant of her mouth. “It’s not flattery if it’s true. Now come, your train departs shortly.” You follow Jeanine to the train station, somehow unsurprised by the fact that she’d planned everything so precisely. In all the time you’ve been around Jeanine, you’ve learned one thing: what she says will happen. Every single time.

By the time the train pulls up to a Dauntless station, Jeanine’s already briefed you. You’ll only stay for a week at most, but you’ll have private training sessions with one of the leaders. A few other members of Jeanine’s inner circle are here as well, so it looks like you’re not the only one she wants to protect.

You and your fellow Erudites enter the building through a back door, making sure that you are not spotted by any Dauntless who aren’t in on the plan. Even though they’ll shortly be under Erudite control, it would still be best if suspicions weren’t raised.

Eventually, you find yourself in a dark, high-ceilinged training room. A few Dauntless leaders and trainers come over and greet Jeanine, clearly they are in on the plan. The Dauntless are cocky and confident, seeming completely unfazed by the fact that they are actively conspiring against the other factions. They are clothed in all black, with tattoos detailing their skin. Your eye is caught by one man in particular, with patterns of black ink stretching up his neck. He returns your gaze with a smirk.

Jeanine turns to her fellow Erudites. “These are your trainers. Philip, you go with Alan. Clara, with Jasmin. And Y/N, you’ll go with Eric.” She points at the blond man with the tattoos you had noticed before. He raises his eyebrows. “I was told I was going to be training the best. She seems pretty small to be your best.” Jeanine’s face does not change, but her tone seems just a little bit icier. “She is the best.” Eric shrugs at that, unbothered, and gestures for you to follow him. This is going to be one long week.

You’re actually not as bad at hand-to-hand combat as you’d thought. Sure, Eric can beat you every time, but that’s to be expected- he’s been training as a Dauntless for much longer than you have. However, you’re able to block his blows, and even get in a few hits that you can tell he doesn’t expect. Maybe it’s just a perk of being an Erudite- you can think ahead to what he’s going to do and block the actions before he even makes them.

Unfortunately, this forward-thinking technique does not appear to help you actually win the sparring, though. On one such occasion, when you find yourself knocked down to the mat once more, Eric just sighs, irritated. “You’re clearly an Erudite- you’re thinking too much about what I’m going to do instead of just attacking. Don’t think, just do.” With that, he walks away, announcing a break. You’re left to join up with your fellow Erudites, who you’re grateful to see seem just as worn out and useless as you do.

You’re sipping water from a plastic bottle brought out from who knows what corner of the Dauntless training room when you see Eric talking to a few of the other trainers. You shift towards them, pretending to drink your water but instead listening to their conversation. Your eavesdropping is rewarded when you notice that they’re talking about the Erudites.

“They’re not that bad.” One argues. “I mean, they have good strength and they’re not nearly as bad as the transfers when they first start initiation.” Another trainer chuckles. “It’s kind of hard not to be as bad as the transfers. But these guys aren’t Dauntless. They don’t have Dauntless instincts.” The trainers nod in agreement. “I mean, I think mine is still trying to calculate the force and acceleration behind his punch before he even takes it.” The others laugh, and the trainer turns to Eric. “Hey, Coulter. You’ve been silent for a while- what are your thoughts? How’s L/N, does she seem like second-in-command material?”

You prick up your ears at that, but Eric just shrugs. “I expected more from someone I’ve heard so much about, but I suppose it’s only fitting that she’d be all brains and no fight.” You wince at that. You’re not sure why hearing Eric’s opinion matters that much to you- it shouldn’t, you’ve only just met him and you’ll soon be leaving him, but it still hurts to hear.

Behind you, the trainers are dispersing back into the rooms. “Okay, find a sparring partner. We’ll be doing actual fights now- you throw your punches, we’ll watch.” A sudden need to prove yourself is filling you, and you nod at Alan, one of your fellow Erudite. He is smaller and more timid than he seems at first, and he’ll probably be an easy match. 

The two of you head to a ring and circle each other warily. You know Alan won’t take the first move, and so you do instead- a quick jab at the lower arm, he thinks you’re attacking there so he goes to block, you knew he would do that so you circle up and hit him with an elbow to the neck. Alan stumbles back, clutching his throat. Your eye catches on Eric for a moment- he’s casually walking up to watch the fight. You turn back to a recovered Alan, ready to beat him and prove that you’re just as good as any Dauntless.

Alan takes initiative this time, trying to hit you with a fierce kick. You take advantage of his slight loss of balance by sweeping his legs out from under him, and then straddling him to pin him down. Alan struggles from underneath you, but you land a direct punch to the face and hear the satisfying sound of bone cracking. Something about the rush of adrenaline is like fire burning through your veins, and you can’t help but hit him once more. You rear your arm back for another punch, and then another, but you are distracted by the sight of Alan’s arm flopping to his side. You blink to regain your focus and realize that the Erudite is unconscious, knocked out by the force of your blows.

You quickly stand up, and keep staring at first at Alan's unconscious form, then the blood coating your knuckles, and then back to Alan once more. It comes to your attention that everyone’s staring at you, and you start to stammer out an apology. “Sorry- I didn’t realize- I didn’t mean to-” Eric cuts you off with a low laugh, and strides around the ring to talk to you. “Don’t apologize- that was the best you’ve done all day. Maybe we’ll make a fighter of you yet.”

So now you have Eric’s approval- and confidence in yourself. You find you enjoy fighting, maybe a little more than you’re supposed to. You train as hard as you can, reveling in the chance to take out your aggression. You’ve quickly made a name for yourself as the best among the Erudites, and it’s a title you guard with gleeful pride. 

On one of the last nights that you’ll be in Dauntless, you’re stretching after a day’s work. The training sessions had gone pretty well- you’d bested every opponent who’d dared spar against you. Another Erudite walks up to you, and hisses something under her breath. “You shouldn’t be so proud of yourself.”

You look at her, grinning. “What, you jealous?” The Erudite shakes her head, the same glare still present on her face. “You’re supposed to be Erudite, you know. Not Dauntless. I think you’re taking too much pride in being able to fight. When we go back to our faction, I think we’ll all remember how eager you were to give up being Erudite so you could punch someone and make Eric proud.” With that, she walks away, leaving you in stunned silence.

She’s right, of course. You lay awake for a long time in your bunk, hearing her words repeat over and over again. You weren’t meant to be Dauntless, you are an Erudite. It was proved in the test, and it was proved when you decided on Erudite in the Choosing Ceremony. Why are you so keen on proving yourself in the fighting ring? You’re only here for self-defense, and you most certainly should not be enjoying hand-to-hand combat so much.

Also, the Erudite was right about one other thing- Eric. Why does his opinion matter so much to you? Why do you look to him for approval after every fight, and why is it that you can only relax after a fight when you hear his voice when he’s leading you away from the ring?

It comes to you slowly, but the realization makes you groan inwardly. Of course- you love him. What else could it be? You turn over on your side, wishing for sleep to come. You know what you’ll have to do tomorrow, and how to prove to the others that you are truly their ally and that your loyalty lies only with Erudite, not with Dauntless.

When you wake up the next morning, you dress promptly with the other Erudites. When you all file into a room to eat breakfast, you sit yourself in between two of your friends. When Eric comes into the room, you don’t look at him at all, not even to wave your usual hello.

When you go into the training room, you stretch by yourself instead of warming up with Eric. The Dauntless announce that you’ll be sparring with the other Erudites once more, and you head over to the rings to pick a victim, walking right by Eric without so much as acknowledging him. You can see confusion and maybe even hurt (although you’re surely kidding yourself) spread across his face, but you brush it away. The Erudite who had spoken to you before comes over to you now, whispering once in your ear before heading away:

“Glad to see you’ve decided on your allegiance.”

Yes, you have- but why does it hurt so much?

The match passes in a blur, with you beating your opponent easily. You feel like a machine, forcing yourself through the usual paces without any joy. You shouldn’t feel joy, anyway, that would mean you were too much like the Dauntless, and you are only an Erudite. You go on ignoring Eric all day, much to his surprise, but if it means you aren’t questioned by the other Erudites, it’s worth it. Right?

However, it appears that you won’t get your way forever- just after practice is dismissed you start heading down a hall when an arm snakes around your waist and pulls you into a nearby room. You turn to face whoever’s grabbed you with an indignant rage, but the words die on your tongue when you see it’s Eric. He looks irritated.

“Why are you ignoring me?” His voice is dangerously level, but you just shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The last time I checked, I could talk or not talk to whoever I chose.” You try to leave so you can follow the others, but Eric pulls you back into the room. “What is this all about? You were fine with me yesterday, but something’s gotten into you today.” He draws back, and for a second he looks almost nervous. “I saw you looking upset after one of the other Erudite spoke to you yesterday. Is that why?”

Finally, you look him dead in the eyes. “It was. They reminded me that I am not a Dauntless but an Erudite, and I would do well to remember it. I know my allegiance, and it is not with this faction.” Eric scoffs, incredulous. “You think talking to me means that you’re trying to switch factions? Trust me, I’m just trying to help you.” You glare at him suspiciously. “Then why would that Erudite tell me that?”

Eric sighs, and you realize that he’s been hiding something from you this entire conversation. “You know why, don’t you? She wants me to stay away from you because of something you did. What is it?” Eric clenches his jaw, but he responds. “Actually, I think this is more about you. What would you want to hide from the others that would be so important that you’d cut off all contact with me?” You freeze. This is definitely not where you wanted this conversation to go. You try to leave, but Eric forces you to stay. “Just tell me.”

You can’t bear to look at him. “She found out I had feelings for you. Happy?” This is it- he’ll just laugh at you. What were you thinking, telling him? You force yourself to look up at him, but instead of incredulous, he just looks- relieved?

Before you know it, he’s kissing you. His hand finds your waist, and you can’t decide whether you feel more surprised or elated. When he finally breaks away, he looks at you with a smirk. “I’d say happy.” You laugh, and kiss him again.

When the train comes to take you back to Erudite, you find you don’t really want to go. Your whole life is in Erudite, and you can’t wait to keep working on your project with Jeanine, but you don’t want to leave Eric behind. He’s come to walk you to the train, and when he sees the train starting to arrive, he turns to you.

“It’ll be alright, you know. Just a few more weeks, and then we’ll have control over the factions. I’ll see you then, I promise.” You smile at that. “I know. Jeanine has to visit Dauntless a few more times, and I’ll do my best to make sure I’m at those meetings. Wait for me?” Eric chuckles. “Of course. See you then.” 

The train is here now, and you know you must go. “I’ll miss you.” You whisper, and head towards the train. “I’ll miss you too.” Once you step past the doors of the train, you look back at Eric as the train picks up speed and pulls away from Dauntless. It’ll only be a short time until you see him again.

[miraculouswolf99]

Miraculous Lemonade (Song Fic)

I love the movie Lemonade Mouth and thought that the favoritism shown to the athletes over everyone else on the movie was similar to the favoritism shown to those with high-ranking parents in Miraculous Ladybug. So, an idea instantly formed in my mind. Includes my original characters Lyon and Vallia Garden.

*****

Adrien sat in the park outside of the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, eating with is two friends from Greece, Lyon and Vallia Garden. The two were doing an exchange program that helped students from other countries experience other cultures. They spoke fluent French, so they came to Paris. Adrien met them years ago when his family went to a charity fashion show that was held at the animal and nature sanctuary that Lyon and Vallia’s family owned.

The three may be a “little” annoyed with what had just happened at school. Lila “Liar” Rossi had framed Marinette for cheating, assault, and theft. Adrien made, what he called, a “deal with the devil” to get Marinette back in school. But it seemed that after her first few days back, Marinette’s parents decided it was better for her to go to an arts school instead of Dupont. 

What infuriated the trio the most was that the school made no effort to investigate any of Lila’s accusations. There was no checking the security footage, no dusting for fingerprints, not even any hearing of Marinette’s side of the story. They simply took Lila at her word and some easily framed evidence to expel the best student at Dupont. It made them all furious.

“You know the favoritism shown at your school is appalling, right,” Vallia raised an eyebrow as she looked at her friend.

Adrien sighed. “I know, I know. But what could I do about it? I’m the son of a fashion designer, not a politician like Chloe.”

“That brat’s a part of the problem, anyway,” Lyon scoffed. “The entire school was punished and she is the only one that gets out of it? I’ve seen less corrupt politicians in Gotham, and that says something.”

“I know people criticize me for being Chloe’s friend, but would you two give up a friend that you’ve had since you were a kid,” Adrien asked them.

“Honestly, no,” Vallia said. “We get how you feel, Adrien, but one day Chloe will do something unforgivable and you will have to choose between her and your other friends.”

“I think I chose a while ago but just didn’t want to admit it,” Adrien says. “Chloe had her chance to be a better person when she was Queen Bee. But even after getting to be a hero, she still got her father, Sabrina, and Aurore akumatized.”

“Is there anyone she hasn’t akumatized,” Lyon crossed his arms.

“Out of all our class, only Marinette and I have not been akumatized,” Adrien says. “And for everyone that has, only Max, Nino, and Lila were not akumatized by her.”

“Well, Lila being akumatized was probably her own fault anyway,” Lyon shrugged. “She lies with every breath she takes and one of them probably bit her in the butt at one time or another.”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you guys yet, have I,” Adrien thought he had told them already.

“Told us what,” Vallia asked.

“You two were not here when she had her real first day,” Adrien tells them. “Lila lied on Alya’s blog about being Ladybug’s best friend. She had met me after school and tried to lie about not only being the descendant of a hero but also being the holder of the fox miraculous.”

“Seriously,” Lyon raised an eyebrow. “She was actually that stupid? Why not just put up a giant light-up sign that says ‘Hawkmoth, come and attack me,’ with her address written in neon.”

“If she hasn’t been targeted, Hawkmoth probably knows that she’s a liar,” Vallia said.

Adrien nodded. “During our conversation, Ladybug herself showed up. She probably saw Lila’s interview because she immediately called Lila out for her lies. Ladybug obviously hates liars as much as Marinette. Lila ran away and the next thing I know, she is breaking into my house while akumatized as Volpina and once again claiming to be a hero.”

“So that’s how you know she’s a liar,” Vallia understood now. “But why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because at the time she was only lying to get attention and friends,” Adrien said. “Have you seen my class, we’re all special in a lot of ways. Alya runs the most popular blog in Paris. Nino gets a lot of attention as a DJ. Juleka, Rose, and Ivan are members of a band that has been getting a lot of attention lately. Rose is friends with Prince Ali. Chloe is the mayor’s daughter. I am a model and the face of my dad’s brand. Even Marinette knows Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and has impressed my father and Chloe’s Style Queen of a mother with her designs. Compared to all of us, Lila’s lies are not that unbelievable.”

Vallia and Lyon actually see where he was coming from. Being surrounded by people her own age and yet they have accomplished so much, it made sense why Lila would want to lie about herself like that.

“But then she took things too far, right,” Lyon asked his friend.

Adrien nodded. “Once she came back from her, so called, trip to Achu, she started using her lies to manipulate the class, which you guys have seen. She lied about having tinnitus so she could sit next to me, lied about having a sprained wrist to get Kim to carry her lunch tray, she even lied about having an allergy to tomatoes to make Rose take them out of her salad for her.”

“Isn’t that why she was akumatized into Chameleon,” Vallia remembered Adrien telling them. “You told her to stop lying.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said. “When she suddenly left for her ‘trip,’ I saw no reason to humiliate her by telling people about Ladybug calling her out. Plus, it’s not like they had any reason to believe me since none of them ever believed Marinette when she told them that Lila is a liar.”

“And it does not help that no one in school ever tries to actually fact-check her stories,” Lyon rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like it’s hard, either,” Vallia agreed with her brother. “Jagged Stone published his autobiography three months ago. There is no mention of a cat, a plane crash, or anyone named Lila in the entire book. It even specifically says that he had Fang, his crocodile, since he was twenty. That is fifteen years that he has had him.”

“I know, I know, my school is full of the most gullible people in Paris,” Adrien sighed. “And now that Marinette is gone, it seems like Chloe and Lila have teamed up and are ruling the school with iron fists. I can barely get a minute without one of them hanging off my arm.”

“And it’s not like any of the teachers or Damocles are doing anything,” Lyon says. “I’ve seen you, ask, request, and even demand for them to let go of you and they never do. You’ve even done it in front if some teachers and none of them ever did anything.”

“It’s the daughter of the mayor and the daughter of a diplomat,” Vallia sighed. “They will, most likely, never do anything. Even if it involves the son of a rich fashion designer.”

“It’s not like we can do anything about it,” Adrien sounded defeated. “Damocles is too afraid of losing money from the mayor and it’s not like Chloe and Lila are ever going to change.”

He was rubbing his very sore and bruised upper right arm, which Lila had been holding onto very tightly for most of the school day. And he knew that he would also probably have to deal with more of her harassment at the next photoshoot that he has with her.

“But... can even Damocles deny change when the entire school is rallied against him and those like him,” Lyon smirked.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, Lyon, and I am in total agreement,” Vallia brightly smiled.

“Uh... mind cluing me in, guys,” Adrien was completely lost.

“Well, you know that Lyon and I are friends with Clara Nightingale,” Vallia started.

Adrien nodded. When the pop star had come to Paris to shoot her “Miraculous” music video, she had basically tackled the twins when she saw them. Apparently, she had met them years ago when she did a charity concert at their family sanctuary and even now treated the two like they were younger siblings to her.

“Clara had told us the reason why she started performing in the first place,” Lyon continued for his sister. “When she was our age, she attended a high school that focused entirely on athletics and nothing else. To the point where all other extracurriculars were pushed into the basement with no budget for any of them. So she used her music to spread the massage of what was happening. She wound up getting a sponsor for the music program that built an entire auditorium for her school even when the principal tried to deny it.”

“So, she basically started a music revolution,” Adrien summed up.

“Exactly,” Vallia says. “We can do the same here. Use music to show that not everyone tolerates the favoritism. It should prove more of a problem since all three of us are rich but also see it as a problem.”

“We should probably also add those that are not like us,” Adrien says. “Kitty Section could help, plus Luka and Juleka are not under Lila’s spell.”

“But Rose and Ivan are,” Lyon reminded. “Without them, we would not have a drummer or a singer. Vallia and I can sing, but neither of us play the drums. I’m classically trained on the violin and Vallia doesn’t play any instrument.”

“Kim plays the drums,” Vallia said. “And when Lila got Marinette expelled, he snapped out of her spell.”

“Guess we have our plan,” Adrien says. 

“We’ll talk with Nathaniel and Marc,” Lyon said. “They can spread it to the rest of the school and we will soon have as much support as we will need before we perform and get the Board of Education involved.”

“But what about your father, Adrien,” Vallia was worried about her friend’s ‘stick-in-the-mud’ of a parent. “He would never agree with you being a part of any type of revolution.”

“Well, my father will just have to deal with it,” Adrien shrugged. “Plus, I can always spin it to make it look good for the brand when my fans see it as me trying to help those that are neglected because they are not rich.”

The twins smirked as they walked off to get their friends in on their plan.

*****

Luka and Juleka were more than happy to use music to change Dupont for the better. Luka went to an arts school, but Juleka wanted a normal school and she was currently regretting her choice. Kim was also very glad to finally be able to show that he was more than just a jock and that he was about more than just dares and jokes. Seeing the bruises that Lila and Chloe had been leaving on Adrien’s arms just motivated them even more.

They decided to give their performance at a school dance that was coming soon. The entire school would be there. And when they talked to Marc, his class’s president Aurore contacted the Board of Education and they were going to send a few members to check out the problem.

“You guys ready,” Luka asked them as he picked up his guitar. 

“Ready as we will ever be,” Juleka answers.

“I’m just glad to finally be able to stick it to the man,” Kim grins brightly.

“The song you guys chose is certainly a good one,” Adrien looks at Lyon and Vallia.

“What can we say, we love American Disney movies,” Vallia smirked. “Makes us glad that we’re fluent in english.”

The dance got dark, allowing them to get onto the stage that was set up for them. They had convinced Damocles to let them perform, saying they had an important message to give out with their music. Since three of the performers were rich, he let them. It did not go unnoticed how he had rejected Kitty Section when they had wanted to perform at the last dance even when they had told him the same thing.

Adrien stood behind the keyboard as Kim sat at the drums while Juleka picked up her bass and Luka stood with his guitar. Lyon was taking the lead singing position while Vallia was back-up vocals and running their “special” effects. They all had their own mics for them they took turns singing their verses. They were going to get their message out whether people at Dupont wanted it to or not.

Adrien was just glad he managed to avoid both Lila and Chloe since there was no way either of them would have let go of him and let him perform. But after this, he hoped to never have to deal with either of them ever again.

The music started, the spotlights shining down on them. Lyon took the lead and began.

Lyon- “Hear it getting louder, a call for revolution Yeah, we came for what was ours, it's time for restitution We'll protect our own, take back the stone No, human nature cannot hold us down.” Luka- “Stranded at the bottom, but we're more than a whisper No, we'll never be forgotten, our blood's thicker than silver, yeah When worlds collide, it's do or die So tell me, is it wrong to stand your ground?” Lyon+ Luka- “Hear us howl, all or nothing Fangs are out, we ain't running Hear us howl, it's all or nothing.” All six- “Oh oh oh oh This is a declaration Oh oh oh oh Of a new generation It's now or never, we're in this together We'll fight through the highs and the lows No, we won't break, we're more than flesh and bone.”

Lyon gave a wink to his sister and she started the real part of the show. With members of the board in the audience, this was going to force some changes to be made. 

She pressed a button, images and videos started showing on the giant screen behind them. If they could see the board members, they would have seen some very furious faces.

All of the images were of destroyed property, bruises or scratches on people, and even of old things like the destroyed make-up bag that Chloe took a marker to. Then was the clear message when pictures of Lila and Chloe were shown with GUILTY under their pictures then with pictures of the school staff with DOES NOTHING under them.

Lila, Chloe, and Damocles were all white as ghosts.

Vallia- “The world has gone crazy and no one seems to listen Gotta step in, no more maybes, and stop the demolition Is it hope or fear? Look in the mirror Everything we built is coming down.” Juleka- “No more hesitation, it's time we start to realize With all this separation, silence is still taking sides So use your voice, make a choice And tell me, are you standing with the crowd?” All six- “Oh oh oh oh This is a declaration Oh oh oh oh Of a new generation It's now or never, we're in this together We'll fight through the highs and the lows No, we won't break, we're more than flesh and bone.” Then videos were played on the screen. The first were from the day that Marinette was expelled. It was footage from the school security cameras that they got when Markov, the ever helpful AI, hacked into them when the group asked for his help. He was more than happy to help slap some sense into Max.

It clearly showed Lila taking the test answers and putting them in Marinette’s bag. It also showed her fake falling down the stairs and placing her necklace into Marinette’s locker. The video moved on to showing all the times that her or Chloe would grab onto Adrien and would never let go no matter how many times he told them to. The video also showed it happening in front of teachers and they never did anything.

More videos showed Chloe bullying, destroying other art projects that were not her own, and even all the things she did that got most of the class akumatized when it happened on school grounds. They also got videos from Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and every other celebrity that Lila lied about. All of them saying they had never met Lila in their lives. All six- “Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy We say no more bad blood, no more bad blood Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy No way, they can't stop us, no, they can't stop us Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy We say no more bad blood, no more bad blood Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy No way, they can't stop us, no, they can't stop us.”

More videos and photos identified every bully in the school. Each and every single one of them being rich, or have influential parents that Damocles was afraid of, or both. The other students all gathered near the stage, showing their support to the band and hardly anyone supporting the staff or the bullies. Alya was still speechless over Lila’s lies being revealed and what she had said to Marinette in “defense” of Lila. Sabrina was also pale as she remembered everything that Chloe ever made her do, like stealing Marinette’s diary and locking Juleka in the bathroom. Adrien- “History changes, but we lost the pages we wrote When you lose direction, can't see the reflection you know We came from the bottom then became the problem Now everything's out of control So hey, are you with me? Let's go!”

The students cheered and danced as the band all sang. They all knew that they were now going to finally be free of the bullies and liars that have been plaguing their lives for years. All six- “Oh oh oh oh This is a declaration Oh oh oh oh Of a new generation It's now or never, we're in this together We'll fight through the highs and the lows No, we won't break, we're more than flesh and bone.”

The band finished with a bang, staring down the staff with cold eyes that said that they regretted nothing. Everyone they stared as were about as pale as a person could be.

After the dance, the Board of Education members brought everything that they had learned and seen to the rest of the board. Actions were immediately taken over the weekend. There was an intense investigation into the school and every member of the staff. Not that surprising, but Mendeleiev was the only staff member that never did anything wrong but was constantly blocked from doing anything by the other staff members.

Damocles was revealed to have been using money granted to the school for things like locker upgrades and new textbooks for his Owl gear instead. Plus he was also found out to be taking many bribes from parents of the bullies to not only keep them from being punished but to also increase their grades if they were low. He was fired immediately.

Bustier also faces a lot of consequences. When the investigation was made known, dozens of her old students came forward. It was revealed that her methods have caused all of them pain. She had spent years coddling the bullies and punishing the victims. Many ended up in therapy while the bullies usually ended up in jail for mostly violent crimes. She had her teaching license revoked and was blacklisted from ever teaching again.

The rest of the staff were all suspended until they finished courses about how to deal with bullies, how to properly run a classroom, as well as all of them having to pay finds.

All of the bullies were either expelled or suspended, depending on how horrible they were. A lot of them were having to repeat the grade because of how much their parents had spent to keep their grades up while they did hardly any work. 

Alya, while being sued for the lies she posted on her blog, did not do anything else beyond cyber bullying of Marinette. But that did get her another lawsuit from her former best friend’s parents as well as being suspended from school for a week. Her parents forced her to delete the Ladyblog.

Chloe and Lila were, of course, the worst of them all.

Chloe ended up expelled and it was found out that she was also banded from every private school in the city because of how well her bullying habits were known. Her father was also facing multiple accusations of abuse of power because of how he handled problems that his daughter caused. Chloe could also hardly ever leave the hotel without being sneered or yelled at by literally everyone in Paris.

Lila was not only expelled, but also had giant finds placed on her after she was arrested for her months of truancy. Every celebrity she had ever lied about was also suing her for slander, defamation, and libel. It was also revealed that her mother had taken away her diplomatic immunity once she had learned about all the lies that her daughter told her and everyone around her. Her reputation as a liar has spread all throughout France and she will never be able to use her schemes ever again. Her mother makes sure to inform all her future teachers and principals about her lying and bullying habits.

All while this is happening, the new band clinks their glasses together as they cheers for a job well done. And if Adrien also happens to be kissed by a certain Greek lead singer, that is just a bonus for him.

[unmaskedagain]

Oh Lady Luck (How I miss you so!)

Okay; first off. I hated this. I had a massive case of writer’s block while doing it and lost inspiration near the end.

Oh Lady Luck (How I miss you so!)

           Bustier’s class was the luckiest in school, everyone knew it. They got to go on the most amazing trips, win contest after contest, competition after competition, met all sorts of celebrities, frequently got to meet Ladybug, through the best dances and school plays, and always seemed to have a pep in their step. Anything any of the students went after they always managed to get. Everyone knew Bustier’s class was the luckiest in school. Then one day that changed dramatically.

“You’ve changed,” Alya accused Marinette after the class voted her out as Class president. “You become a bully.”

           Alix snorted, “More like a jealous bitch.”

           There were nods from the other students in class. Lila smiled at Marinette; happy that her promise to ruin the girl was coming true.

“You’re always so mean to Lila,” Rose added. “It’s not nice.”

“You’re worse than Chloe now,” Kim glared.

           Juleka frowned, “We miss the old Marinette.”

“You should’ve chilled out like I told you to, dudette,” Nino said with a shake of his head, clearly disappointed.

“We can’t be your friends anymore,” Alya crossed her arms.

           Marinette had listen to them quietly as they relayed reason after reason why they were ending their friendships with her; all to do with Lila. She didn’t bother to look at Adrien. He had warned her what was going to happen; Nino had told him. There had also been a group text apparently. Adrien made it clear he stood with Marinette. Even more so, when he chose to sit with her in the back of the class, a fierce glare on his face at the other students.

The bluenette placed down her pencil, closed her sketchbook and said, “Fine. Then we’re not friends anymore.”

“That’s counts double for me,” Adrien hissed. “Lose my number. In fact, don’t bother; I’ll just change it. That goes for every last one of you. I’ll be informing my Father and Nathalie that only Chloe and Marinette are on my visitors list.”

           The class blinked in shock. Not expecting that reaction from the blond boy who was usually so amicable and nice.

           Chloe watched with amused eyes. She had been sentenced to the back of the room not long after Marinette. “We’ve never been friends but consider all extra little perks you’ve gotten used to: dead and over with.”

           That was it. None of the other students knew what to say or do. They hadn’t gotten the reaction they expected. Marinette didn’t seem to care. Adrien seemed ready to set them on fire. Chloe looked rather pleased at the idea of seeing them burn. Most shrugged it off; figuring at least two of the three (Marinette and Adrien) would come crawling back in no time.

           They didn’t.

           Things started to change for the students in Bustier’s class the next day.

           Lila woke up in the morning to an email confirming that she would no longer being a model or any type of employee for the Gabriel Agreste brand. Or as Nathalie put it when the sausage hair girl called her, “We will no longer be needing your services, Miss Rossi. Do not contact us again.” Click.

           That was when Lila realized her plan of using Gabriel to get Adrien under her thumb had went up in flames. She hoped that Adrien wasn’t informed so that maybe she could still use his father as a threat against the boy.

           When she go to class, the blond model sent her a vicious smirk. Lila paled. She knew without a doubt that Adrien didn’t just know Lila was fired, he was the one got her fired.

           Nino woke up to the news that the gig he was due to play, his big break, had replaced him. It would’ve been huge for his career.

Oh well, he thought, back to DJ-ing for birthday parties.

           Alya accidently dropped her phone in the toilet; ruining hundreds of videos and pictures for the Ladyblog.

           Alix took a dive while skating; broke her ankle and the watch her dad gave her.

           Max broke his glasses.

           Kim got food poisoning.

           Ivan’s dad ran over his drum set while parking in the garage.

           Rose tried to call Prince Ali and found out he changed his number.

           Nathaniel spilled coffee all over his Ladybug comic strips. Marc had been pissed.

           Juleka’s mom accidently put bleach in with a load of her laundry; it ruined everything.

           By the time they had all got to class, all the students were in a terrible mood. However, when Marinette walked in with a box full of delicious smelling breakfast pastries; they perked up. The bluenette always seemed to know when they needed a pick me up. And there was nothing like a treat from the Dupain-Cheng Bakery.

           Marinette didn’t acknowledge any of their presences. She walked straight to the back of the classroom, sat in her seat between Chloe and Adrien. “Morning!” She beamed at her friends. “I brought treats for the three of us.”

“Awesome!” Adrien smiled, quickly opening the box and snagging a chocolate croissant. “Delicous, Thank you” He said. Or least they thought he said that. His mouth was full and it was mostly garbled.

           Chloe rolled her eyes. She grabbed a mixed berries and cream cheese pastry, “Perfect way to start the day. Thank you, Marinette.”

           Marinette took out her favorite: a berry and jasmine scone. Then she promptly through the box away; making clear that she hadn’t brought any for anyone else. “Anything for my friends.”

“We’ll do lunch at Le Grand Paris,” Chloe said. “On me of course. The chef there is to die for.”

           The other students visibly wilted. Alya in particular who loved going to Le Grand Paris as her mother was the head chef.

           It all went downhill from there.

           Over the next week things went from bad to worse for the students.

           Bustier told the class their trip the Presidential office was cancelled due to an unexpected flooding incident. The plan had been for the class to tour the office and have amazing picnic on the beach afterwards

           Lila’s mother, who had been busy nearly 24/7, officially went on vacation, meaning she plenty of time to spend with her daughter. Her daughter was panicked when her mother inquired about visiting her school.

           Alya discovered that the hits to her site had started to declined dramatically. She didn’t have time to worry about that as her internship with a local new studio had been cancelled; something about realizing Alya didn’t have enough experience. So her summer plans were cancelled.

           Nino’s Dj equipment sparked or shorted out or something but nothing would work anymore. He had cancel the rest of his gigs until he could buy new ones.

           Kim lost a swim match against Ondine.

           Markov got a virus and broke down causing Max to break down in tears.

           Nathaniel lost the expensive sketch pencil he won in a contest.

           Alix’s grandmother brought her a new dresses; frilly monstrosities that Alix’s forced her to wear to school for the entire week.

           Rose, Ivan, and Juleka were heartbroken when Luka announced he was going Solo.

           It didn’t help anyone’s mood that every day Marinette, Chloe, and Adrien walked into class with big smiles on their faces and pleasantly discussed their amazing plans.

           On Wednesday, Adrien invited Marinette and Chloe to come with him to meet the Prime Minister.

           Apparently, Adrien’s dad had called in favors so the three would tour Palais Bourbon, where the French Parliament meets.

“He said I could invite all my friends!” Adrien smiled.

           Marinette had been shocked at this. Until Adrien explained that his aunt had threatened to reveal to the world Gabriel Agreste’s neglectful behavior, his tendency break child labor laws, and his need to isolate Adrien. Thanks to his aunt, Adrien had a much free-er schedule and Gabriel had been in therapy for weeks. “I’ll bring food from the bakery. We can have a picnic!”

“Beach day!” Chloe cheered.

           No one else so much as smiled at the news. Even more so when pictures surfaced on Friday of Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Ondine, Marc, Mireille, and Aurore with various members of Parliament; including the prime minister.

           Thursday, Chloe loudly invited Marinette and Adrien to an event for her mother, “It’s a fashion show! It’s tonight. Adrien can relax behind the scenes, while Mari and me model on the run way. Mama’s lost a few models so I told her I could recommend a few friends.”

“I’m modeling!” Marinette paled so much, her friends were sure she’d pass out.

“I get to do nothing!” Adrien grinned.

           Pictures of Chloe and Marinette modeling exploded across the internet; multiple fashion websites and online magazines deeming the girls’ Style Queen’s secret weapon and modeling next big thing.

           Most of the guys in class shrugged it off. But a few of the girls turned greened with envy; Lila in particular.

           On Friday, Marinette invited Adrien and Chloe to meet her uncle and her cousin, “He’s back in town on Saturday and he wants to meet all my friends.”

           No one else in class paid too much to that. Who cared about Marinette’s uncle? Or her cousin? They were probably just as stuck-up and nasty as she was.

           Then on Saturday, picture of the same group who went to Parliament, plus Luka, with Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale started trending on the internet. Jagged Stone posted a tweet about how awesome his honorary niece was, with a picture of him and Marinette. Clara posted a pic with her favorite little cousin, Marinette.

           Alya couldn’t believe her eyes and immediately started texting Marinette for the deets. She received a text back saying; new number; who dis?

           Nino flat-out called Adrien only hear that the number had been disconnected.

           The rest of the class faced the same issue.

           And then one by one, they each remembered that they weren’t friends with any of the tree Ostracized students anymore.

           Monday, Alya found out that BugOut, a competing Ladybug blog, had been officially endorsed by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Something that hadn’t happened with the Ladyblog.

           Max lost the science fair. For the first time. He had to go see the school guidance counselor.

           Kim got kicked off the team for his poor grade.

           Lila’s finally called the school to schedule an appointment. Lila was Akumatized within the five minutes.

           Alix’s grandma brought her more clothes; some which were tacky sweaters with cats all over them

           Nathaniel misplaced his new sketch book, with his redone Ladybug comic strips. He never found it. Marc wasn’t happy.

           Nino got a call to dj a huge event only to have to decline as he hadn’t bought new equipment yet.

           It was Adrien that brought in breakfast for the other two; Mcdonalds. Much to the Chloe and Marinette’s dismay, but they didn’t say anything as the boy was clearly happy about being allowed to eat it for the first time.

           Marinette unwrapped her sausage Mcgriddle, wondering who she hurt in a past life, “Jagged is doing a private concert. You two want to come?”

           Adrien nodded, his mouth full of fried hash brown and bacon. “Count me in,” They think he said.

           Chloe held the egg mcmuffin in her hand like it was physically hurting her to do so, “I’m in,” she said. “And I’m bringing breakfast tomorrow.”

           The class was dismayed at missing at meeting Jagged Stone again.

“Are you going to invite us?” Alya asked with a huff.

           Marinette didn’t even look in her direction, “Sorry Uncle Jagged said I can only invite my friends.”

           Ouch.

           Over the course of the next few months, things continued to fall apart for the class. They tried planning one of their usual amazing dances, only for everything to crash and burn. Then they remembered that Marinette planned everything, and before her, Chloe.

           The class never made enough money fundraising so nearly all planned class trips were canceled.

           They had to deal with seeing pictures of Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe and all their friends meeting all sorts of celebrities.

           Ladybug disowned the Ladyblog; causing Alya to burst into tears.

           No matter what any of the students tried, did, competed in, they never won. They practically failed at everything.

           Rose tried to bake cookies for the class; her kitchen caught on fire.

           Max applied for science camp; all spots were full.

           Nathaniel who had lost his comic drawing for the twelfth time in a row was finally told by Marc to take a hike.

           Nino lost his hat, broke his glasses, a dog at his homework, and he tripped landed face down in the mud; all on the way to school one morning.

           The students were constantly late, frustrated, and always seemed to have something accidently spilled or thrown on their clothes.

           Lila’s  mother, who finally decided to just randomly drop by the school after being told repeatedly by her daughter that it was closed so she couldn’t do the appointment for months, was shocked to say the least when it was clearly opened and active. She had a long talk with the Principle and all of Lila’s lies were revealed to class.

           Class was very apologetic to the three ostracized students after that but it didn’t matter. The three made it clear they weren’t interested in renewing their friendships.

           By the end of the year Bustier’s class went from the luckiest in school to the unluckiest kids on the planet.

           The students of Bustier’s class couldn’t help but wonder aloud why they lucked changed do much.

           Tikki, Plagg, and Pollen, hidden away in their chosens’ school bags just smirked.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 43 - Meant To Be

Title: Irreverent Pt. 43 - Meant To Be Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 22,571

A/N: I’m very nervous about this chapter, but I think it’s important nonetheless and I’m asking you to bear with me on it. I am very aware that this is an Aaron Hotchner story at its core, but I’d be remiss if I ignored the back story for a Reader I’ve come to really love and treasure. If it helps anyone, I picture John to look like Steve Rogers circa Winter Soldier. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Your mother was being impossible. Julian was escorting Elizabeth Abbott to her cotillion and everyone in the family was going except for you, which was completely unfair! You'd begged and begged the entire month, any chance you had with her, and she had yet to relent. You'd been on your absolute best behavior, you'd maintained your spot at the top of your class, and you'd even landed the lead role in the Nutcracker. Yet, your mother was of the opinion that little girls didn't belong at formal events.

Dom was back for his winter holidays and everyone was under the same roof again after nearly six months. Your Papa had been away on business for the past five weeks and there was a chance he hadn't yet spoken to your mother about the cotillion, so taking a risk, you asked him if you could attend.

He fixed you with his thinking look as you waited nervously, peeking over at your mother who seemed completely irritated with you going over her head.

"Have you kept up with what I taught you last time for your chess game?" he asks finally.

You nod. "Of course Papa.

"Good, then pick one of your brothers to play. If you win, then you may attend."

This was better than you could have hoped for. You quickly exchange a look with Julian who winks at you, bypassing your mother's glare.

"I'll play Julian," you say, standing to set up the board by the fireplace.

Dom, who had till that point been absorbed in his own business, chooses then to tune in to the rest of the family. "Oh come on! Julian's just going to let her win."

"No he's not!" you insisted, looking at your Papa. Dominic was being annoying for no reason and he would try his best to beat you on purpose. Why did he even care if you attended or not?

Your Papa looks between you and Dominic, and it must have been the fact that Julian avoided his eyes altogether that convinced him to listen to Dom.

"It should be a real victory, don't you think?" he asks you, fixing you with his stern face that always made you feel like he knew everything you were trying to hide from him.

"Yes Papa," you responded glumly, as you continued to set up. Dom and his smug face got up to take the seat opposite yours.

However, you needn't have worried. You hadn't lied when you told your father that you'd kept up with the chess lessons. You'd been practicing nearly every day, on your own and with Julian and his friends. Dominic lost far too quickly for being nineteen years old, playing his nine year old baby sister.

He stared at the board after you said checkmate for a few minutes, as if he couldn't believe that had just happened. As though you'd tricked him. Before you could really gloat in your victory, he roared and flipped the board over. You quickly scrambled to get away from him as he came at you with his arm raised.

"Hey, man, she's nine! What the hell!" Julian had ran to get between the two of you and Dominic shoved him, throwing him off balance, before he swung at his face.

You'd run to hide behind your father's chair as Dominic continued on towards you, having punched Julian in the face and knocked him backwards. It took your father standing up and being absolutely furious, for Dom to back off. He threw you a nasty look and strode out of the study, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Julian stood up, and you gasped loudly when you saw his face.

Your mother turns to you, absolutely furious. "You see! Now look what you've done. Your brother is supposed to be an escort - how is he meant to do that with a black eye?"

You turned to look at your father who only shook his head before walking out after Dom, leaving you to deal with your mother's wrath on your own.

How on earth was this your fault?

However, it had all been worth it, because here you sat at your very first ball. You'd had your dress picked out for weeks in the vain hope that you'd be allowed to go and it had paid off. Your legs dangled from the chair as you sat between your parents, your mother constantly fussing with your dress and chastising you to sit up straight. As the music swelled, you watched all of the girls walk down the steps in their white gowns, their fathers handing them off to their dates. Julian met Mr. Abbott at the foot of the steps and accepted Elizabeth from him. Your mother had managed to hide the black eye with some concealer and your father had knocked some sense into Dom, who was sulking at the bar in the back with some of his buddies.

Then there he was. Escorting beautiful Cecelia Rhodes, Johnathan Hawthorne walked past your table with her on his arm and as he caught your eye, he threw you a wink and a grin. You sighed to yourself, smiling wide as you watched him. John Hawthorne with his all-American good looks, amazing hair, and a smile that could warm the coldest of hearts. He was, by every definition of the word, perfect.

John led Cecelia to stand near Julian and Elizabeth - you knew that the two of them had practiced the dance all week with one other. You'd supervised. They better not mess it up and make you look like a bad teacher. However, you needn't have worried. Both Lizzie and Cece should thank you that they had the best dates there. All of the other boys messed up. A lot.

Your mother had given you a ten o'clock curfew and it was already nine thirty by the time the dessert was served, so you really didn't have too much time left before Mrs. Hernandez came to pick you up. Your parents had abandoned you a while back, so you were left to entertain yourself. You looked up and saw Julian talking to some boy from his class. It looked like him and Elizabeth were done dancing for the night, because her and Cece were sitting at a different table with some other girls. The music was still playing and there were a few of the older couples on the dance floor, swaying along to the music.

"Hey Cap."

You turn and see John coming up behind you and dropping into your father's chair. You giggled as you turned to him and said hello. You always loved it when he called you that. It made you feel special. He'd told you that you reminded him of one of the best chess players of all time, Capablanca, because the two of you both finished off your opponents lightning fast. He'd started calling you Cap because of it, insisting that one day you would be better than him. He also made it a point to play you anytime he was over, and while he had yet to win, he kept trying.

"You looked really good out there," you tell him, a slight color flushing your cheeks.

"Well, I had a pretty good teacher," he replies, smiling at you with his radiant smile that never failed to take your breath away.

"That's true."

He laughs, before swiping your dessert plate and finishing off the rest of your cake while you glare at him. But you're not really all that upset. It's John. You couldn't ever be all too mad at him.

"What're you doing here? Besides eating my cake," you ask him, indicating to the rest of his classmates who were scattered between a few tables in their own groups. None of the rest of them were sitting around with the baby.

"Well, I couldn't end the night without dancing with the prettiest girl here, now could I?" He smiles and offers you his hand, which you grab excitedly. No one had asked you to dance yet and it would be a shame to not dance even once at your first ball ever.

John leads you out to the dance floor and offers to let you stand on his feet, but you were determined to do this right. You weren't given the role of Clara for nothing - you earned that! He held both of your hands in his due to the height difference, and the two of you moved along to the music in formation.

"Hey John," you said, looking up at him shyly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you love Cece?"

He's quiet for a second as he thinks over your question. "Well, she is my girlfriend," he says after a few seconds, "but it's still new and we're figuring things out."

You nod. You'd expected as much - John was good at giving the right answers and he never lied to you if he could help it.

"Do you think you'll marry her one day?"

He laughs a bit at that. "Probably not. She's just a girl I'm dating in high school. Not many people end up with their high school sweetheart."

You smile at that. He's right. Most people grow up, move away, go to college and meet their wives and husbands there. Your parents had met one another in college, after all.

"Good," you tell him, allowing him to spin you around his finger.

He smiles a bit weirdly at that, his eyebrows going up a bit. "Why is that good?" he asks.

You're not sure if you should tell him. It is a little embarrassing. But then, if you didn't tell him, then he might pick some girl - Cece or otherwise - and that would cause other sorts of problems.

"Promise you won't laugh?" you ask him. You have to be sure that he wouldn't make fun of you for this. That would break your heart if he of all people laughed.

"I promise," he says, linking your pinkies with his.

You take a deep breath, before you look right at him. "Because one day, I'm going to marry you. And we'll get married by the lake where Auntie Amelia got married and I'll get to wear the biggest white dress ever. You'll wear a blue suit because blue goes well with your eyes. It'll be perfect."

You expect him to laugh even though he said he wouldn't. But then, John really isn't like that. He kneels down so he can look at you better, not caring that the music is still playing and everyone else is still dancing. He looks you right in the eye, completely seriously, and sticks out his hand for you to shake. "You got yourself a deal, Cap."

*------------*

It's Thanksgiving Break and his parents are on business in Asia so Julian had invited him to spend the holiday with his family. Dominic and his girlfriend would be there, and Julian had told him that you were dreading an entire week of playing nice with Dom so that he can show off the family and charm the pants off of the Huntingtons' daughter. John would be a welcome buffer.

He'd accepted mostly so he could avoid being the only person left on campus, and the alternative was to go home with the new girl he'd started seeing and he worried that meeting the parents so soon would send the wrong message. Caitlyn was nice and all but he didn't see much of a future there. She was bright in the way that girls tend to be when they're told they need to go to college to secure a husband. She could carry on an intellectual conversation for around five minutes, until you dug deeper and realized all she knew was the reader's digest version.

That's how he finds himself in Connecticut, sneaking out with you and Julian to the pool. He'd spent the day hunting with the men, and while your mother had thought you were going out to ride, you'd actually snuck along with them. Your father had merely shook his head before grabbing an extra rifle for you. He knew you didn't really want to hunt, you just wanted to be included. You kept conveniently missing easy shots and he'd gone to the shooting range with you too many times to believe you'd gotten that bad overnight. When he'd quietly called you out on it, you told him you didn't feel comfortable eating Bambi for dinner. He'd had to agree with you, so now your father thought he was a terrible shot as well.

It's been a while since he'd spent so much time with you, as he'd been away at college or doing internships. The last time, you'd been around thirteen and it had been his and Julian's second winter holidays when both of your families had booked a stay in Gstaad. You'd fallen ill and had spent most of the time sniffling and coughing in bed. Him and Julian would hit the slopes in the morning and then spend the rest of the day drinking hot chocolate and watching movies in your room while Julian complained about you getting your germs all over him. You talked to him about all the classes he was taking and the two of you had spent a memorable afternoon debating the merits of the death penalty. He was going to be using all of it for the paper he had due.

It's late at night and the moon is overhead. Julian had excused himself to go raid your father's liquor cabinet and in the distance you two can hear Dom and his girlfriend Katie fighting. Your mother had made some comment about her clothing and it had obviously gotten to her. She'd have to grow a thicker skin if she was going to last.

"Hundred dollars says they break up by Christmas." You look at him, your face betraying your glee at your brother's misfortune.

He laughs. "You're on." He had a feeling Katie was more resilient than most. She hadn't blown up at your mother to her face. She'd waited until it was just Dom and her. He had a feeling Dom would be making it up to her for a while, though, if he wanted it to last.

The two of you are sat at the edge of the pool, your feet dangling in the water. It's a good thing the pool is heated, because swimming in late November in Connecticut and dying as a result of freezing to death really wasn't his life plan. He looks at you, playing with the edge of the sweatshirt you'd borrowed from him when you'd first come over to Julian's room where the two of them had been hanging out. You'd persuaded them to come out with you and had asked to borrow something to throw on top since it was freezing outside. The Columbia law school hoodie enveloped you completely, nearly at your knees.

"What's going on with you lately?" he asks, turning towards the house and seeing the lights go on in your father's study, indicating that Julian had started raiding the alcohol.

"Well, high school sucks like you said it would," you reply with a bitter note to your voice. He knew that you hated going to boarding school and had thrown a fit when your parents had decided to send you. Neither Dom nor Julian had gone to boarding school, and you'd protested against it vehemently. However, your father hadn't wanted to leave you on your own in Connecticut and with him traveling so much and your mother being away as well, they wanted to give you a semblance of structure. He wasn't sure if he agreed with it either - he knew you'd be much happier going to Hopkins like the rest of them had rather than go boarding school hopping to whichever continent your father decided to have business in that year.

"Have you at least made new friends this time?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "If by friends, you mean guys named Brad who ask me out and then when I say no, they go and tell the entire school I slept with them, then sure yeah. I've made friends."

He raises his eyebrows at that. There wasn't a chance Julian knew about this, because if he did, Brad would be history.

"What'd you do about that?" he asks, wondering if he needs to go teach this Brad guy a thing or two about how to treat girls right.

"Told anyone who asked, that Brad isn't particularly well-endowed," you tell him, the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

"Good girl."

"I can handle it, it's not that I can't. It's just…I can't wait to be in college and not have to worry about this sort of crap."

He hums in agreement. College really was the great equalizer - or as much as it can be when everyone has the exact same blue blood upbringing as you do. He'd tried to make friends that weren't from his usual circles back when he'd done undergrad at Princeton and had hit it off with a few kids on scholarship. It was difficult however, when they either wanted to pay their own way or wouldn't let him help out. Made things awkward.

"Can I tell you something?" you ask. He notices that your fingers fidget with the ends of his sweatshirt - he's always found that little tell of yours endearing.

"Of course."

"I'm the last girl in my year to not have kissed anyone. Even Siena Robertson made out with Jacob Pemberley on the soccer field right before the break, so now I'm the last one left."

You look miserable admitting that and he feels for you - being a teenager and feeling like you're behind on stuff like that is its own brand of misery.

"It'll happen when the time is right," he says, hoping that's of some relief. However, even he knows how hollow his words sound. They're likely of little solace when you're a fifteen year old girl stuck feeling like there's something wrong with you for not having achieved these milestones.

He looks over at you and you had an odd look on your face, as though you're conflicted with something and struggling to really put your thoughts into words. He nudges you with his shoulder, moving his head up as if to ask, What else is going on in that head of  yours?

"I don't want my first kiss to be some guy named Brad," you admit, not looking at him, instead staring resolutely into the pool. The chilly air outside blows your hair ever so slightly, and he watches it move rather than look at you.

"Who do you want it to be?" he asks quietly.

You turn to him, your doe eyes wide with the hint of tears, biting your lip, and looking at him like you're not sure why he even bothered asking. As if he didn't know.

He feels his heart clench but he forces himself to look away from you, shaking his head as he does. "You're a kid," he says, the hair at the nape of his neck standing straight up as another chilly wind rushes over the both of you, blowing more leaves to the ground in a swirl.

He'd hoped that would be it. That you'd realize the absurdity of what you're saying.

"Please John." You plead, your hand reaching for his, sending a shiver down his spine. Your fingers are like icicles and he can't help himself from wrapping your hand in his, if only to warm it up.

"Julian would kill me," he tells you, wondering why that was the only thing he could think of to say to you. There's other reasons of course - it's wrong, so very wrong. He's a grown man and you're a kid. You deserve to have your first kiss be someone who you love - at least puppy love. Not like this.

"Julian doesn't have to know."

His jaw clenches as he looks down at you, your eyes fixed at where his hand is holding yours.

"Please," you try again, squeezing his hand to force him to meet your eyes. "Please don't let my first kiss be some guy named Brad."

He knows what you're saying. Don't let your first kiss mean nothing. Don't let it be meaningless and awful and only because you don't want to feel behind the rest of your classmates. Because he knows, that if this is how you feel already, you won't waste any time to make sure you're up to the mark, the second you get back to school. It would be rushed and sloppy and some kid named Brad would go around the school telling everyone he'd managed to snag you, and this time he wouldn't be lying.

He didn't want that for you. You deserved better.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he turns to look back at the study - the lights are still on, meaning Julian still hasn't left. The next second he's moved his hand out of your grasp, only to wrap it around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his head bent down to capture your lips with his, swallowing your surprised noise. Soft, plush, pliant, perfect. It's a quick press of lips on lips. Chaste, almost, if it weren't for the fact that he'd practically grabbed you like a rag doll, nearly to his lap. He won't take it further, though. He shouldn't. He moves away on a sigh. Your eyes are closed, your long lashes kissing your cheeks, your face illuminated by the moonlight.

"Thank you," you breathe out, your eyes still closed.

He knows he'll remember this moment forever.

There's the sound of the back door opening, and the two of you quickly move away from one another. Your eyes meet his and you smile just barely at him and he has a hard time not smiling back.

Julian returns, bottle of scotch in one hand and a bottle of Moët in the other. You refuse to drink scotch still, insisting it burns too much, so the champagne is always for you.

*------------*

It’s over a year later when he finds himself in Connecticut once again. His mother had asked him why he’d come just for cotillion season, and he tells her he'd missed her and his father and wanted to see them before buckling down for finals. He can't tell them the truth. That you'd called and asked him to.

"You know, it is quite unfair for you to have gotten to dance with me at your cotillion, but for me to be denied the same pleasure at mine," you'd said when you'd called him.

His face had split into a grin as he stood up to take your call, leaving his date sitting by herself. His mother had set him up with Arthur Cafferty's daughter who was studying fashion at NYU. Needless to say, the two of them had nothing in common and after three dates with the girl, he had really only asked her out this final time to break it off nicely.

"When is it?" he'd asked, taking his planner out of his bookbag. He hadn't even bothered to go home and change for this date. One would think the girl would take a hint and realize he wasn't interested.

You told him the date and he said he'd make it work. Your resulting squeal was so high pitched, he had to move the phone away from his ear.

"You're sure it's not too much trouble?" you ask, once your initial excitement wears off.

"Anything for my future wife," he jokes. "I am nothing if not a loving and doting husband."

Your twinkling laugh carried him through the misery of breaking up with the Cafferty girl.

He'd pushed off a couple of study groups, spoken to his Tort Law professor about making up the in-class debate he would miss, and caught the train up from the city. Julian had flown back from Europe, and the two of them had tagged along with you and your mother to your final dress fitting so that they could get their tux fittings done at the same time. The seamstress had you try on your dress and you looked like a ball of cotton, the swathes of tulle falling around you. You'd patiently stood while the lady made some last minute adjustments, both him and Julian poking fun at you while she did.

Once your mother left to go deal with the payment, you quickly moved to get out of the dress, grabbing another with you on the way into the fitting room. The seamstress dragged him and Julian up onto the fitting platforms next, tutting about them both having grown far too much since the last time. He detects movement in the mirror he's standing in, and you've emerged wearing another dress. He turns towards you, taking it in.

This dress flows down to your feet, draping against you as if it was made for you. As you take a step forward, his eye is caught by the deep slit to the side which exposes your leg with your movement. You know he's watching, so you turn for his benefit, revealing that there's no back to this dress. There's just the smooth skin of your back, fully exposed - his eyes wander down, catching the visible dimples at your lower back. He has to take a second and remind himself that Julian is there too, but you'd seen his reaction - he's sure of it. You'd taken his breath away.

"Mother will obliterate you if she sees you wearing that," Julian warns, moving towards you to help you spin around in it.

As if summoned, your mother reappears, seemingly aghast at your dress, and quickly ushers you away from view. Neither him nor Julian can make out what the two of you are saying, but its obviously an argument. When you emerge, you look entirely put out and he catches your eye, rolling his eyes in sympathy and drawing a small smile from you.

The next night, Julian and him drive you to the venue, dropping you off, before going to meet up with some old friends in the area. You were head debutante and had to coordinate everyone else along with the cotillion Chair, and thus were arriving nearly six hours prior to the event.

It's dark by the time everyone has arrived at your ball. It's decidedly your ball, that much is obvious. You'd had the venue changed from the usual ballroom at the country club to the old Haverford Mansion with its vaulted ceilings and grand staircase. He briefly wonders how you'd managed to swing that - the Chairs are usually older women who rule these events like their life depends on it. Then again, you could charm anyone if you really wanted to.

Julian and him find themselves at a table with both of your families. Dom had brought Katie, who had stuck around despite your mother. You'd handed over the cash to him from that bet happily enough. Katie was great. You didn't think Dom deserved her and you were quite vocal about your opinion.

"Julian, my boy!" John's father exclaims, sitting down across from the two of them, "When's your next show coming?"

"Oh I've only just started on the new collection, Mr. Hawthorne, so not for a while. But I'll be sure to give you first peek when it's ready" Julian tells his father. The Hawthornes made it a point to always grab a piece from any collection Julian painted, his mother fancying herself a patron of the arts.

His mother briefly asks him and Julian why neither of them could ever manage to bring dates to such events and all of their classmates are getting married around them. John of course knew the reason why Julian never brought dates - his dates tend to wear suits instead of ballgowns and it wasn't the kind of attention he wanted brought to his life. Why he never seemed to have a date, however, was a very good question. One that could be answered if anyone were to remember the time he had brought a real date. Lindsey Carlyle had left last Thanksgiving when everyone had congregated at his family's brownstone, in a huff, claiming he wanted to spend more time with a sixteen year old girl rather than her.

"Remind me to tell my sister she owes me for making me sit through another one of these functions around all these people," Julian mutters to him, tugging at his collar.

John stifles a laugh. He was sure Julian would think of some manner of having you make it up to him - likely by simply having you spend the summer with him gallivanting around Europe. Julian didn't have it in him to truly be upset with you.

"I don't know how she talked you into coming, but she's had you whipped forever, so I guess I'm just glad I'm not here alone."

He rolls his eyes, elbowing Julian. It's no secret that he lets you boss him around - always has, ever since you were little.

Everyone quiets down as the music begins and the Chair comes to announce each girl. He knew you'd be last, being the head. To the side, all of the dates are standing, awaiting the arrival of the girls. Your father is upstairs, with the other fathers to the right of the staircase. One by one the girls are called, the Chair talks about each of their accomplishments as she announces them and their fathers walk them down the steps, to be handed off to the teenage boys in tuxes.

The music changes as it's your turn prompting him and Julian to exchange a look.

"Does the head deb usually get different music?" he leans over to ask Julian.

Julian shakes his head, his lips pressed tightly together in a way that John can tell he's trying hard not to smile and incur his mother's wrath.

The Chair begins to list your litany of accomplishments as your father walks out from the right and awaits you. He sees you emerge, and a collective hush falls over the crowd. You aren't wearing one of the regulation cotillion dresses like every girl before you. You're wearing the dress that had taken his breath away yesterday. There's a smirk planted quite firmly on your face as your father takes your hand and helps you float down the stairs.

John is positive your father's grip on you had been iron tight in reaction to your dress. Your date - a boy named William who John knew only vaguely - looks elated however. He helps you onto the dance floor and the music changes once again, with all of the couples dancing. John sees Julian's fists tighten as William's hands sit a little lower on your back than they should, and your father doesn't bother coming to the table, instead making a beeline to the bar.

"She's insane," Julian whispers out of the corner of his mouth, the both of them watching you with some amount of awe. No one did this at a cotillion. No one.

"I'll buy you that brush set you've been eyeing if your mother manages to drink less than five vodka sodas tonight," he tells Julian, the two of them grinning at one another.

Your mother throws a glare at the both of them as she knocks back her drink.

"No deal," Julian whispers back. "I'm going to lose that in the next ten minutes."

Turning their attention back towards you, they both watch as you twirl around in William's arms. The first dance is endless and at some point your father made it back to the table, carrying a drink in each hand. Your mother gets up when your father returns, the two of them having a quick, quiet exchange, at which Julian rolls his eyes.

However, as the second song draws to a close, John finds himself standing and making his way towards you. It really should be your father or one of your brothers cutting in for the first time, but he figures he should spare you their reactions as long as possible. He reaches you and William, towering over the boy as he approaches, and taps him on the shoulder to cut in. William appears a little annoyed but still hands you over, turning to walk to the sidelines.

He turns to look at you - you're sporting a smirk a mile wide, your eyes twinkling. You're pleased he was the one who cut in first.

"What a surprise seeing you here, Mr. Hawthorne," you drawl, humor coloring your voice.

"Well, I had to make sure I danced with the prettiest girl at the ball, now didn't I?" he replies, reaching for your hand and placing his other to your waist. You jump ever so slightly at the touch of his warm fingers against your skin and he has to disguise his laugh as a slight cough. When you place your other hand to his shoulder, it was as though an electric current ran through him.

The music transitions seamlessly and he draws you close into a waltz. He's highly aware that the two of you have nearly a hundred eyes on you and he can tell you're loving it.

"Are all the biddies clutching their pearls in horror?" you ask him.

"Why'd you pick this dress?" he asks, instead of answering your question. You already knew the answer.

"You liked it, didn't you?"

He nods. He had liked it. However, that didn't answer his question, so he looks at you, eyebrow quirked, imploring you to explain further.

With a slight roll of your eyes, you huff delicately. "I'm tired of being the good girl, the perfect girl. I wanted to turn some heads. I think we can both agree that I have."

"Your mother is going to kill you," he murmurs next to your ear, a smirk matching yours on his face. You had indeed turned heads. Some more than others.

"Oh please. Did you know, yesterday, she told me that I was far too chubby to wear a dress like this."

He starts to disagree with that assessment - you were anything but and the dress fit you like a glove as though it were commissioned for you.

"It's okay," you reassure him. "She's just upset she can no longer pull off something like this."

He laughs at that.

He twirls and spins you out, before catching you in his arms again.

"You look beautiful," he tells you looking right into your eyes, as though compelled to.

The faintest of colors graces your cheeks and you look bashfully (for the first time that night) away from him, smiling.

"Thank you."

The music changes again and he's almost worried that someone is going to steal you away from him, yet no one does. He meets Julian's eye above your head, and his friend looks to be talking his parents down from making a scene. Julian gives him an exasperated look as though to say, You see what I put up with because of her.

He looks back at you, shaking his head. "You're trouble, you know that?"

"You love trouble," you tell him, your eyes shining, smirking up at him.

He can't help himself from smirking right back. "You're a tease," he whispers back his fingers caressing your back, before he can catch himself. You're too young, even though you may not look it anymore.

As though sensing his change in mood, you lean up to him, reaching his ear. "Don't worry. I know that we can't. That you can't."

He looks down at you, meeting your gaze, reassured that you understand. He nods, smiling his gratitude that you understand. He can't have this seem in any way improper. He's set to take the bar. He's set to clerk for McGuire. However your quiet words have their desired effect, and he can feel himself relaxing, comfortably dancing with you in his arms.

As he continues to lead you around the dance floor, he's becoming convinced of one thing - if tonight is anything to go on, he's going to want to fulfill his end of the deal.

*------------*

After your cotillion, he'd gone back and started studying for the bar - head down night after night. He couldn't afford distractions.

He got a call the day you got your Harvard acceptance letter. You received a bouquet of dahlias and a shipment from Laduree the following day, much to the collective jealousy of every one of your dormmates.

The day he passed the New York state bar, you were his first phone call.

You were graduating. You were graduating and you would be an adult in the eyes of your families and the law. The two of you had already planned an entire summer country hopping across Southeast Asia with Julian in tow. John would be lying if he said he was anything less than ecstatic.

Julian had uncharacteristically offered to pick him up from Heathrow instead of simply sending a car. Assuming he wanted to talk through the details of the trip the three of you were headed out to the following week, John threw his bag into the back cheerfully and got into the passenger seat. Europe was the only place he trusted Julian to drive. Getting in the passenger seat with Julian at the wheel in the states was the equivalent of signing a death wish.

"How was the flight?" Julian asks, merging across the lanes and pissing off some cabbies on the way.

"Fine," John replies, taking stock of his friend. He hadn't seen Julian since the cotillion early in the year and he couldn't help but notice that Jules looked thinner. His already lanky frame was positively beanstalk-like. "What's been up with you?"

Julian glances at him quickly, before turning his attention back to the front. "Anthony and I broke up," he says quickly, as if simply trying to get it out of the way.

Well, that explained the weightloss. Julian was a true artist at his core. He insisted that pain was meant to be felt. "I'm sorry man. What happened?"

"He took me to meet the parents. Then he wanted to meet mine. We fought. He issued an ultimatum. Here we are."

John nods sympathetically. Telling the parents was out of the question. Neither of your families were the kind who would be supportive and understanding. Julian stood to lose quite a bit if he chose to be honest.

"Y/N noticed too," he says, referring to his own frame.

"You should tell her at least." This was an old discussion for them. John insisted that you should know. That you wouldn't care nor tell anyone. However, Julian's fear - fear of losing you and fear of being ousted - overpowered any rationale he was able to provide.

Julian shakes his head. "Pretty sure my father has got his claws deep in there by now. I just told her I was doing an experiment on the body's reaction to starvation in order to channel it into my new piece."

John breathes out a laugh at that. "She buy it?"

"No, but our family's good at the whole Don't Ask Don't Tell thing. Pretty sure she's got secrets of her own she doesn't want anyone to know."

He nods, feeling the guilty coil of lying to Julian rouse itself once again. He'd beat himself up about it quite a bit after he'd kissed you by the pool, knowing Julian would kick the absolute shit out of him if he knew. He might not be able to take John on physically, but it wasn't as though John would be fighting back exactly.

"Speaking of," Julian begins, his voice low and quiet, yet assertive in a manner that reminds John of your father and his, "we need to talk about her."

John crosses his eyes over to look at his friend, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He couldn't possibly know anything. "What about her?" he asks, doing his best to sound nonchalant.

"Don't do that with me man. You might think you're fooling the rest of the world, but you're talking to someone whose entire life is a lie. You think I don't know pining when I see it?" Julian sounds less angry than he should, John thinks. If anything he sounds resigned. Reluctant to be having this conversation at all.

"I'm sor -"

"It doesn't matter." Julian cuts him off. "I don't care if something happened. What I need you to do is promise me that nothing ever will."

"I don't - "

"Let me make it as plain as possible," Julian says, his mouth a straight line, hands gripped tight around the steering wheel. "It's me or her. You choose to pursue this thing, take it any further, then that's it. You'll have made your choice."

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. Never - not when he'd first kissed you, not when he'd danced with you, not when he'd dreamed of… - had he thought that there would be a chance of him being at this point. This awful point where he's forced to choose between you and Julian. How was he supposed to choose between his best friend and you - how could he possibly be expected to make that decision. He never thought Julian of all people would ask this of him. He expected a beating, a cold shoulder for a couple of days - but at the end he expected it to work out. How could it not?

"So you're issuing an ultimatum?" he asks, swallowing the anger he can feel bubbling underneath.

Julian doesn't even turn to look at him. "Yeah. I guess I am."

"Just because you're miserable, you're setting out to make everyone else around you feel the same way?" he asks, ugly malice coloring his voice as he turns to look away from Julian. He couldn't stand to look at him at this moment.

"Don't make this about something it isn't. I'm looking out for my baby sister. She deserves to have a college experience that isn't tied to some older guy that's only going to make her feel guilty about experiencing the same stuff he did, but tenfold."

"I wouldn't do that to her," John says quietly. He can't believe Julian would even think that about him. That he would in some way hold you back from having anything you wanted.

"You might not, but she'd do it to herself for you," he says quietly. John can see his hands tremble ever so slightly at the wheel.

"So that’s it?"

"Yeah." Julian breathes out a sigh and turns down the street towards your school. "That's it."

The rest of the car ride passes in tense silence.

You were valedictorian, the cord hanging down your neck signifying you as such. When you'd told him that, he'd asked if you were giving a speech but you'd told him you could care less about standing up in front of people you're unlikely to see again and talking about the wonderful experiences and memories - it rang of fakery and you hadn't wanted to end on such a false note. You'd excused yourself from consideration, so the class president gave the speech instead.

John sat with your family. Julian's words still rang in his head and he was finding it difficult to focus on much of anything. He followed everyone else's lead, clapping when appropriate, while his mind was miles away.

Once the ceremony was over, he sees you making your way through the crowd towards everyone - eyes shining, hat askew, hair flowing behind you, the largest smile he's ever seen firmly in place. You hug your parents first, then Julian.

"John!"

You approach him for a hug and he finds himself turning just barely to meet Julian's eyes. He hugs you from the side, arm loosely around your shoulders, eyes barely meeting yours - over before he knows it. Completely unlike any other hug the two of you have shared.

You let go slowly, the confusion clearly painted on your face as you look up at his face to figure out what was wrong. He sees you look from him, follow his gaze to Julian, and then back to him.

You know.

He's not sure how he gets through the celebration dinner afterwards. Words sit oddly in his mouth and he is mostly silent throughout. He can't keep himself from watching you. You're pretending everything is fine. It's your graduation and this should've been a good day. A happy day. And somehow he's pushed you into pretending.

It's late that night when there's a quiet knock at his door and the knob turns before he can say anything. He knows it’s you.

"Hey," you say, closing the door behind you. You're dressed in a little pajama set - navy blue with polka dots, the shorts covering you decently. It's cute, he finds himself thinking.

He gets up to sit at the edge of the bed, not trusting himself to say anything. He only watches as you walk and sit on the chair in the corner, instead of on the bed next to him, eyes trained on him.

"Julian said no, didn't he?" you ask, your voice smaller than he's used to.

He nods.

You're sitting so far away. He sees you swallow and look away from him.  It's quiet for a couple of minutes as you look out the window, processing what he's told you.

"Maybe it's for the best," you whisper, turning back to look at him.

How could the best be anything but you?

But it's his job to be the adult - to be the reasonable one. He can't deny that there's some merit to what Julian said even if he did do it as an ultimatum.

"You'll get to enjoy college. Live it up. Go to frat parties and get drunk and not worry about some older boyfriend waiting on you or judging you."

You laugh softly at that, rolling your eyes delicately. "Please. You and I both know that you'd just tag along."

He smiles. He would.

"You should date other people. You should experience love and heartbreak and all the stuff in between with someone who hasn't known you forever. It'll be new and exciting - you deserve to have a full college experience."

You agree. It makes sense. Especially given the completely different stages of life the two of you were about to embark on.

"Papa asked me to tag along with him this summer - he has some business in Europe and Latin America. I think I'm going to say yes. You and Julian go on the trip. It'll be good for you."

"It's your graduation trip," he protests.

You shrug. "There will be other trips. I think Julian needs you right now more than I do."

"What makes you say that?" he asks, eyebrow quirked in confusion. As far as he knew, Julian hadn't come clean to you yet.

"He said he broke up with some girl - Antoinette, I guess. He's seemed miserable lately and I think he's probably just heartbroken and miserable - he could use his best friend. His best friend who is there just for him."

He finds himself smiling in spite of himself. He's not sure he could've been this unselfish in your shoes. "Anyone ever tell you you're too mature for your age?"

You let out a soft breath of a laugh at that. "Have you met my family? Someone has to be."

He stands finally, walking to meet you at the chair. You look so incredibly small sitting there, that he finds himself kneeling down in front of you. You don't wait, simply launching yourself onto him - making up for the mediocre hug from earlier. You slip off of the chair, legs bent and splayed across his thighs as he catches you. It's all he can do to hold you tight against him, head buried in your hair, breathing you in.

You can feel his heart beating underneath as he holds you close to him. This wasn't how today was supposed to go. It should've been wonderful - the two of you, finally together after months of talking, teasing, overthinking - it should've been easy. He should've grabbed you in his arms in front of everyone and kissed you right then and there - it's how you'd imagined it would go all those nights laying in bed, listening to the sound of your dormmates snoring. That first kiss - that had been everything you'd needed then, the memory of it carrying you through the rest of the school year as you turned away boy after boy, content to live with the mere echo of that kiss reverberating through you.

High school was just something to get through. College was meant to be perfect, freedom, and John. John, who made everything else perfect by simply being there with you. John, who had been the reason you'd kept your head down and done everything asked of you - so that no one could hold anything against you when the inevitability of you and John materialized. The two of you had done everything right. You'd waited. You'd waited and waited until it could be proper, until it would be accepted. It had been torture and the only thing that had carried you through it had been the knowledge that one day very soon, you'd have him.

You can feel your eyes welling up as it really starts to sink in - this wasn't going to happen. You and John were not going to happen.

You shift slightly, moving back from where your head has been tucked into the crook of his neck while you straddle him on the floor. He looks at you, with his deep blue eyes threaded with strands of caramel, that never fail to imbue you with warmth. You reach up to touch his cheek, thumb grazing his cheekbone, feeling the little stubble that's started to appear. Your eyes leave his and roam to the pink of his lips and before you know it, you've leaned up, capturing them with yours. There is the barest of pauses, before his hold on you tightens exquisitely, pushing you up, closer to him, the barest of growls from the back of his throat as he deepens the kiss. This was entirely unlike your first kiss. John claimed your lips as though he couldn't bear to be apart from them for even a moment, his hands leaving tingles of sensation everywhere they went. You let go with a sharp gasp, and a soft moan escapes him that you can't help but want to taste, as you meet his mouth again, again, and again until you forget if the air you're breathing is even your own.

When you finally leave, it's with a quick goodbye, lips just barely pressed to his cheek. He finds himself reaching up to touch the spot on his face that you'd grazed, hoping to keep it there forever.

*------------*

Dominic had kept all the guys out late the previous night, fully invested in making the most of his final day as a bachelor. John had made it back in one piece, thankfully, but had awoken to a migraine. The water and painkillers left for him on the nightstand serving as his only solace.

He'd had the immense pleasure of meeting Matthew for the first time. He'd heard through the grapevine that you were dating some guy, but Matthew had not been what he expected at all. He was cocky, a showboat, and had an ego the size of Texas. If anything, Matthew was the exact opposite of the kind of guy he'd thought you'd ever date.

You'd come back from college for the weekend wedding, Matthew in tow. The rest of your family was busy with last minute wedding stuff, so John had been tasked with greeting everyone. The Costello family had sent Frank Costello's son to represent the family, and as he happened to go to school with you, he'd also tagged along. You'd walked in, your face scrunched up in exasperation, the two boys trailing behind with the luggage. You'd hugged him quickly before introducing both of the boys, and John had had to control the flash of anger he felt when Matthew wrapped a meaty arm around your waist, squeezing it tight, and hinted at the two of you going to take a nap. You'd seemed a little embarrassed, and tried to laugh it off, but John could tell that had made you uncomfortable.

As you all start to walk down the hallway towards the rooms he's pointed everyone to, Ricky lingers, meeting his eye briefly. "If you're wondering what she sees in him, you're not alone," he says under his breath so only John can hear.

He had a feeling him and Ricky would get along just fine.

His initial impression of Matthew was only confirmed later during the bachelor party that had gone on far too late. He'd told Dominic and Julian that he'd stay more or less sober to make sure there weren't any issues, and had found himself nursing a drink off to the side with Julian and Ricky, watching the women dancing up on the stage. Him and Julian had tried to push for a poker and steak bachelor party, but Dom had gone and rented out an entire burlesque club. The night had simply gone downhill from there, and John was convinced that if any of the wives or girlfriends knew what took place there, there would be more than a couple of broken relationships.

Julian excuses himself after a while, stating the need to grab a smoke, so John is left with Ricky who had turned out to be a good egg. Why couldn't you have dated him? That he could've understood.

Both him and Ricky had looked up as Matthew walks past them, led by some girl. Matthew sees the two of them staring at him. "You'd do it too if your girlfriend didn't put out either," he'd slurred, half drunk as the girl continued to lead him towards the private rooms in the back.

John shares a look of with Ricky. "Good for her," Ricky mutters, his jaw tight, indicating at the bartender for another drink.

Nodding to where they'd seen Matthew disappear, Johns asks, "Is that normal?"

"Couldn't tell you," Ricky replies, "We aren't exactly close. I hear things, but don't really know what to believe."

John forces himself to take a deep breath and remember that it wasn't any of his business to interfere with your relationship. You were an adult and could handle it. If this is how Matthew is, then he doubted you were entirely unaware. He really hoped you weren't. However, that begged the question - why on earth were you with this guy?

He'd gotten dressed in the grey suit that the groomsmen were wearing and gone downstairs to grab breakfast. The ceremony would be taking place in the afternoon, and the entire place was a flurry of activity. He caught a glimpse of you racing down the hallway in a robe, calling out to him to make sure that Dom and Julian were up and ready.

After he'd gone through each guy's room and made sure the entire bridal party was accounted for, he'd ended up doing a couple more last minute things that Katie's mother asked of him. With only an hour before the ceremony, John made his escape, leaving Julian in charge of Dom. He needs a breather.

He finds himself on the upstairs balcony, overlooking the large grass lawn where the chairs are assembled and guests would be arriving soon. Taking out a cigarette, he lights it and takes a drag, feeling his shoulders untense for the first time since he's woken up.

"Are you hiding?"

He turns at the sound of your voice. You're dressed in a blush pink gown that flows to the ground, hair done up - a couple of strands framing your face. You're smiling, the soft smile that graces your face and the sparkle that enters your eyes - the smile he knows that you save for him.

"Hey Cap. What're you doing here?" he asks, smiling softly at you, as you walk towards him.

"Needed a break," you admit. "Katie's great, but her sorority sisters are a bit too much energy for me right now."

He lets out a chuckle at that.

You reach him, grabbing the cigarette easily out of his hand, and bring it to your own lips as you lean against the pillar in front of him with an air of ease.

"How was last night?" you ask him, letting out a puff of smoke, before passing it back to him.

He thinks about your question. Should he warn you about Matthew? Was it his place to do that? He should, he thinks - he'd want to know if he was in your shoes. You deserved to have someone better.

He feels you nudge him, as you shift to lean over the balcony by his side. You're looking at him in question as he's been silent since you asked.

"If I say something, promise not to take it the wrong way?" he asks, hesitation layered in his voice.

Your brow furrows slightly, but you nod, prompting him to go on.

"Matthew - do you like him?"

"Why're you asking me that?"

John swallows as he looks down at you next to him with your eyes narrowed slightly. "He's not as…discreet as he should be," he manages out, doing his best to convey his concern but still keep it polite.

You barely react at that. You either know or don't care and he's willing to bet it’s the former - you would definitely care to have a partner that was considerate and tactful rather than one whose words and actions were circumspect in the public eye.

"Did he say something specific that has you concerned?" You don't meet his eyes, turning to look out at the lawn, where ushers are starting to seat some early guests.

John shifts a bit on his feet, unsure of how to phrase it. "He - um - he said something about you not putting out," he blurts out, stuttering through it like some prepubescent boy. He really shouldn't be feeling quite so awkward about this, and yet he does.

He hears you sigh - then feels you slump slightly and he turns and looks at you, relieved you aren't upset with him and worried all over again because you just look sad.

"I'm just not ready," you confess, looking up at him.

He shakes his head. "You don't owe me an explanation. I just thought you'd want to know, that's all."

You nod, eyes shifting from his, down to the ground.

It's quiet for a bit as the two of you pass the cigarette back and forth, watching more guests arrive and take their seats.

"Do you even like this guy?" he asks, unable to help himself from repeating his initial question. You hadn't answered it really.

You let out the barest of laughs, a sad smile settling on your face as you turn your head to look at him. "He's not you."

John feels his heart clench. The two of you didn't talk about it anymore, having swept it under the rug for Julian's sake and to maintain a semblance of normalcy for everyone else.

"We should go," you say before he has a chance to speak. "Katie will want us both there for pictures soon." You shake your head slightly as if to clear it, and he sees you force a larger smile to your face before you reach for his hand, leading him back inside.

Your hand feels incredibly small in his and he allows himself to be led by you.

The two of you walked down the aisle together, your hand tucked into his elbow, a bouquet held in the other.

He watched you dance late into the night. You danced with everyone - Julian, Ricky, and him, both Dom and Katie, your father and his.

He knocks back his drink as the musicians call for the final song of the night. You and Matthew sway together, your hair still perfectly in place, head rested on Matthew's shoulder, heels long ago shed off and forgotten under some table.

The music swells around him as he drinks slowly. He missed you. He didn't just miss you when he was alone. He missed you when he was surrounded by people. He missed your laugh through the din of laughter. He missed your smile amongst the sea of smiling faces. He missed the little jokes you'd make that were meant just for him. He missed the way your hand would squeeze his out of the blue, reminding him that it was your hand held tightly in his. He missed your very essence that used to bathe him in the feeling of light and air and you. Overwhelmingly you. Extensively you. You had saturated his very being with your presence.

Now, he simply felt bereft.

*------------*

Everyone had just sat down to Thanksgiving dinner at the van Dorens' place - John's parents had been invited to his mother's side of the family and John had begged off spending another holiday with the grandparents he couldn't stand. Say what you would about your families, at least they could have fun and relax when the occasion called for it. He'd instead coordinated his vacation with Julian's return and found himself tagging along to dinner at your boyfriend's parents' home.

That had not been the original plan. Him and Julian had gotten in the day before, however you'd been delayed on campus and hadn't made it back until Thanksgiving morning. You'd walked in, your skirt breezing around your legs, looking every bit as beautiful as ever. You'd greeted everyone and when you'd hugged him hello, you'd held it for a second longer than expected. "Can we talk tonight, after dinner?" you had asked, your voice low so that no one else could've heard. He'd nodded subtly, covering it up with a smile, as everyone sat down to breakfast. That was when your mother had announced that you'd all be going to the van Doren house for Thanksgiving dinner. That was news to everyone - even you, it would appear. You clearly hadn't known that dinner would be hosted at Matthew's home. You'd asked your mother when that had happened, however she'd insisted that that had always been the plan and that you and Julian must've forgotten. That was how he'd found himself seated next to Julian and across from you at the van Doren home. Had he known this would be where he'd end up tonight, he would've suffered through another retelling of his grandfather's World War II recollections about taking down the "Japs". It didn't matter how often John said you couldn't talk like that anymore - his political correctness fell on deaf ears.

The van Dorens had now been present for a few events over the past two years since Dominic and Katie's wedding, yet John hadn't warmed up to Matthew at all in that time. He would've thought he was being biased about it, but Julian didn't like him either and made no effort to be discreet with his distaste of the boy. He wasn't even a boy really. He'd swooped in on an eighteen year old while being a fifth year senior. The guy was barely a couple of years younger than him. John and Julian had both took the mickey out of you when he hadn't managed to get into any decent law school and had to bribe his way into Boston's program because he'd wanted to stay nearby. John was of the opinion that Matthew knew very well that he wouldn't last through anything long distance with you - there'd be far too many options available at your fingertips without his meatball self standing in the way.

A pregnant Katie - who was absolutely glowing - was seated next to you, the two of you chatting about her upcoming baby shower. He'd watched earlier over cocktails, as you touched Katie's stomach gingerly - as though worried you'd hurt her - with the softest of smiles and your eyes widened in awe. It appeared you and Dominic were finally getting along with one another, as you were planning on spending part of your winter holidays with him and Katie out in California.

"John, I heard from Agnes Mayweather that you and Cecelia have been seeing one another again. How is that going?"

John looks up at your mother's question and notes your look of slight surprise. He hadn't yet told you that he had started seeing Cece again - it hadn't been that long and it simply hadn't come up organically in conversation yet. Since his move from DC to New York, he'd been looking for old friends to hang out with, and him and Cece had simply fallen together again easily.

"It's good," he responds with a smile. "Her family does Thanksgiving in Europe every year, so that's where she is right now."

"Who's Cece?" Katie asks, a smile on her face, eyes curious. In her entire time with Dom, she had never seen John mention a girl with any semblance of seriousness.

"His date for cotillion," you supply, a bemused expression on your face. John's not sure what to make of it exactly - were you upset he hadn't told you he was dating someone? Or dating Cece? As far as he knew, you and Cece got along just fine, in the limited interactions you'd had together.

"You must've been like - what - eight or nine then?" Matthew asks from your other side, putting his arm around the back of your chair.

"She was nine, yeah. Only person under the age of sixteen who was even allowed to attend," John says, a small smile on his face as he remembers the sight of your nine year old self, sitting at a table all alone, eating cake and watching everyone else dance.

"You always have liked doing all the grown up things, haven't you?" Matthew comments with a short laugh as you roll your eyes, yet allow him to grab your hand that's been resting on the table.

One day, John hopes that seeing someone else have and hold you won't cause that sharp stabbing feeling in his chest. One day could not come fast enough.

The dinner continues and the drinks flow, the food transitioning from turkey and mashed potatoes, to pies and pastries. He sees the large tray of tiramisu you'd brought with you, and grabs a large square for himself. To say he was addicted would be selling it short. You and Matthew both had a slice of his mother's pumpkin pie in front of you. Funny - he thought you hated pumpkin pie.

The sudden clinking of silverware against glass catches everyone's attention, and John turns to look at Matthew, who is standing, wine glass raised as though to make a toast. Every single person turns to him as well, and John can't help but notice your slightly furrowed brow as you look up at him.

"Thank you all, for being here today," Matthew begins in a booming voice that carries across the long table. "I want to take the chance today and appreciate the woman who has been by my side these past few years, the most beautiful woman I've ever known." All eyes turn to you, and your face has colored under the attention, as Matthew continues. "The day I run for Congress, I want you to be the woman standing behind me, supporting me. Y/N, darling, will you make me the happiest man in the world, by saying yes to being my bride?" he asks, a ring in hand as he looks down at you expectantly.

A tense buzz of silence has fallen across the table at the conclusion of Matthew's speech. You appear to be in shock and he can't tell if it's a good surprise or bad. Julian won't meet his eyes, looking only down at his lap instead of across at you. And, if John isn't mistaken, he sees your father nod imperceptibly so, out of the corner of his eye.

You nod shakily, before a large smile breaks out on your face. "Yes, of course." John watches as Matthew pulls you up out of the chair, pushing the ring onto your finger, and presses a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, as the rest of the table breaks out into excited cheers or claps. John can't believe what just happened. You were only twenty one years old! He couldn't believe you'd agreed to marry Matthew of all people - the guy who had proposed by asking you to stand behind him while he ran for Congress. What the hell was wrong with you?

He turns to look at Julian while the rest of the party offers both you and Matthew their congratulations, Katie examines the giant gaudy ring on your finger, and your mother cries, patting her tears away with a handkerchief. Julian, however, has disappeared in the commotion, and John is left to sit there and take in the new state of the world before him.

It is late that night by the time everyone returns to your family home. There had been a lot of people gushing at you and Matthew, a lot of photographs, however at the end of the day you'd chosen to come home with the rest of them. Your parents weren't particularly keen on you spending the night at your fiancé's home due to the optics, even though everyone of course turned the other way and didn't ask any questions when the two of you traveled together.

Your parents had retired to bed nearly immediately, both of them hugging you and telling you how very proud and happy they were due to your engagement. The rest of you had ended up in the study, where Dom and Katie talked to you about potential wedding venues in the Napa Valley. John listened along and added in comments passively, trying to cover for how completely disengaged Julian was from the conversation. Eventually, the two of them left to go to bed as well, Dom helping his wife up and out of the study, shutting the door behind, leaving just you, John, and Julian in the room.

It's quiet for a while as you get up to fix yourself another drink, eyebrow raised in question at the both of them. John shook his head. He wanted to stick to the single drink he'd been nursing since he had sat down. Julian hadn't noticed your question, having stared straight out the window, to the pool in the backyard.

"Are you really going to marry him?" Julian asks, turning away from the window to face you, breaking the silence.

You appear taken aback as you turn from the bar cart, having poured yourself a vodka soda. "What kind of question is that?"

"A serious one. Tell me honestly, that if he hadn't asked you at Thanksgiving dinner in front of everyone - if he'd asked you last week at school or after the two of you got back to Boston - tell me you would've still said yes then." Julian's turned to face you, both his voice and face intensely directed at you as you're perched on the arm of the chair next to John.

He sees you falter and cover it up by taking a sip of your drink. "I don't know. Who knows what would have happened. I said yes - that's what actually happened. What matters," you reply with a definitive set to your voice, unable to look Julian in the eye for longer than a second.

John turns to you fully. That wasn't the right answer to that question - it should've been an enthusiastic, no holds barred yes. Instead it was…whatever that was.

"You know his mother flinches whenever his father walks by her, right?" Julian asks, exchanging a look with John as he does. They'd talked about that before, how Mrs. van Doren seems terrified of her husband in a manner entirely unfamiliar to the both of them. Their mothers didn't cower from their fathers that way.

You appraise them both before you speak. "I'm not her and Matthew is not his father," you state firmly. "That is my future family, and you shouldn't speak about them like that," you declare, as though trying to steer the conversation to a close. John can tell you'd been aware of that - you've always been fairly observant so he isn't entirely surprised.

Julian stands up all of a sudden, causing both of you to look at him curiously. He walks to the window, looking out at the backyard before he speaks again. "You do realize that the dinner with the van Dorens - Mother lied. That wasn't always the plan. It only became the plan yesterday because it was decided that Matthew would propose to you tonight."

"Okay…so what? My boyfriend decided to propose to me. What's the big deal?" Both you and John look at one another in confusion, and then at Julian, prompting him to speak further.

"Did you notice that Papa and Mr. van Doren went off to his study for drinks afterwards? That Dom wasn't invited?" Julian asks, head still facing the backyard.

You stand up, setting your drink down on the table, and cross your arms over your chest. "What're you getting at Julian? Just come right out and say whatever it is you're trying to say."

Julian turns away from the window finally, instead choosing to lean against it, facing you. "He made the Singapore deal with them. With the van Dorens. Matthew proposing to you was part of the exchange."

There's a tense silence and John can hear you take a sharp inhale as you process what Julian had just revealed. "The only reason he'd need the van Dorens for Singapore is if - is if you said no to the Waldorf girl," you speak hesitantly, your breathing more shallow than before. John notices your hand twist the ring around your finger.

Julian says nothing.

"You said no? Why would you do that?" You slowly walk towards Julian, where he still stands near the window. John feels like he should leave, but there really wasn't an easy way to do that now. "This is the third girl Julian," you continue softly. "Mother and Papa wouldn't set you up with someone awful. They'd find someone who would be there for you, by your side."

Julian scoffs, brushing past you and going to stand at the other side of the room, opposite you, his face contorted with disbelief. "That's what you're focused on? The fact that I said no? Not the fact that your father SOLD you?" he yells suddenly, and John worries someone in the house will wake up and overhear this conversation.

You look as though he'd slapped you. "Don't - don't say it like that." Your voice breaks pathetically, and John has the immediate urge to tell off Julian for talking to you that way. But he knows better. He should stay out of it. In truth, he really shouldn't be present at all.

"How else am I supposed to phrase it?" Julian sneers at you, throwing his arms up. "He sold you like you were property - like a whore he could pimp out to sweeten to pot. Is that better?" he spits out, fully enraged and pacing towards you.

John pushes up from his seat quickly, fully set to calm Julian down and get him away from you. This wasn't the way to do this, even if Julian was telling the truth. He's stopped however, but your hand grasping his wrist. He turns and sees you shake your head.

Julian turns to look at the both of you, his eyes focused on where your hand is wrapped around John's wrist. "What about John?" he asks, his eyes shifting down, away from you. "Thought you wanted to end up with him one day," he says, gesturing at your joined hands.

You let go of John's wrist as though it had scalded you. There's a charged silence ringing in his ears and John cannot believe Julian had brought that up. It had been four long years and you'd both tried very hard to move past it. John's suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. How had they come to this? It should have been about helping you see that maybe Matthew wasn't entirely right - how had his name gotten dragged into it?

Your jaw has dropped as you look at Julian, eyes widened in shock. You let out a breath of disbelief, shaking your head, at a complete loss for words. The three of you did not talk about that, ever. You and Julian especially had never even acknowledged it.

You open your mouth to say something, but John beats you to it. "What the hell, man." He's looking at Julian in complete shock is heart racing - the two of them had never talked about it afterwards save for that one drunken night in Barcelona when Julian had apologized for being selfish and wanting to have his friend all to himself. John had ended up reassuring him that the two of you had made the decision together, and the timing of it all, the different stages of life you had been about to embark on, all would've made things too difficult. Had things not worked out between the two of you due to the circumstances alone - neither one of you could bear to do that to the other. What Julian had done was likely for the best. Julian hadn't remembered any part of the conversation the following morning.

Julian appears slightly ashamed as he is unable to meet both of your eyes, realizing that he'd crossed a line.

You're trying very hard to maintain your composure and John can see the shimmer of tears glazing your eyes. It's quiet for a moment more as he watches you gather your wits about you, your hands shaking ever so slightly, the only sound in the room coming from both your forced controlled breathing and Julian's erratic ones.

"Let me make something perfectly clear to you," you grit out, eyes fiery and blazing at Julian. "You, of all people, do not get to throw that in my face. You made your decision four years ago, and so did we." Your voice is cold and John feels a shiver run through him at a cold fury that isn't even directed fully at him. You look from Julian, to John, who meets your eyes for barely a second, before looking away. You'd both chosen Julian over one another.

Julian looks only at the ground.

What had been the point of Julian saying no to the two of you four years ago if he was going to suddenly be alright with it in the face of you marrying Matthew? However, it seemed as though you didn't even care about that - you'd simply brushed past it already and John is left reeling, thinking through the implications of what both you and Julian had put out there. Julian didn't care. Unfortunately for him, it appeared neither did you.

"If you'd just say yes - " he hears your voice again, through the din in his head that is trying to make sense of everything,  as you carry on, still intent on talking to Julian, intent on ignoring what he'd just brought up as if it meant so little. John isn't sure how you possibly could ignore it - he hasn't been able to think of anything else since, Julian's words echoing over and over in his brain.

"To marrying someone I do not love? For some business deal? Ruin my life for that?" he roars at you snapping out of his silent shame, swiping his hand across one of the end tables and sliding the old lamp off of it. The three of you watch as it crashes to the floor and breaks, emitting a crash. You flinch when it hits the floor.

John turns to you and there are silent tears streaming down your face as you stare at Julian in utter shock. It's gone too far - this whole thing. John feels like a voyeur - like he's intruding on his parents breaking up or something.

"For the family!" you scream, your voice a whispered shout as you're still mindful of how late it is. Far more so than Julian had been. "You do it for the family Julian! I did it for you when I gave you John, because you needed him. You were asked to do something that helps the family, you should've just done it. You don't just run away and ignore all responsibility and obligation. You step up, be a man, and do what's asked of you."

Julian looks at you with disgust coloring his features. "Well excuse me if I have a little more self respect than that," he says, entirely bypassing what you'd said about John as though you had never even said it at all. It was as though he didn't even care - didn't realize - how awful and heartbreaking of a sacrifice he'd forced upon you. And yet, you'd done it - for him.

You look away from him, and John can feel the frustration and anger cascading off of you in waves, tinged by something else he can't quite discern, but he thinks it might be…fear. "How much longer do you expect Papa to let you get away with this? He isn't exactly known for being patient. Sooner or later there will be repercussions. He's been lenient long enough." Your voice is hoarse as you swallow your tears and fury.

You're all aware of your father's reputation - cold, calculating, and merciless. You all know the kind of person Julian was choosing to challenge and while his wrath towards his children had its limits, it had quite a stretch of runway before it reached its end. Julian was playing with fire by continuing on his current path.

Julian appraises you and appears to consider your words, before his eyes land on the large ring adorning your hand, reinvigorating the fight within him. "Then I suppose I'll wait till that day. Until then, I won't just lie down and spread my legs for whomever," he jeers at you.

"Enough." John's finally reached his limit with the entire argument, his jaw clenched tightly and a thunder-struck expression marring the rest of his features as he fully comprehends how far Julian has strayed. "You can't talk to her that way," he states firmly, positioning himself between the two of you.

Julian looks at him, a manic glint in his eyes. A derisive laugh escapes him, bouncing off the walls. "Didn't realize she still did it for you. Isn't twenty one a little old for your tastes?"

"FUCK OFF, Julian." You can scarcely believe him. How could he talk to John like that?

"With pleasure," he scoffs, looking from you, to John, and then turns the knob on the door and slams it shut behind him, leaving just you and John standing in the study by yourselves.

John watches as you pull yourself together. He wants to go to you and hold you and tell you that Julian was just being a dick. But part of him agrees with Julian - especially if he's telling the truth about how it all came together. Part of him also feels the sting of what Julian implied about him despite how untrue it is. So he holds himself apart as the two of you stare at one another in the wake of the deafening silence left behind by Julian's exit.

John watches as you wipe away the remaining tears and bend to gather the broken pieces of the lamp, sweeping away the evidence of Julian's rage. You walk and grab the lamp sitting in the far corner of the room, replacing the broken one. John can do nothing but watch.

"Why did you say yes?" he asks finally, unable to stop himself.

You blink, not having expected that from him and he watches as you bite your lower lip between your teeth, quietly thinking over his question, your fingers twisting the ring around your finger in earnest. Your tongue pokes out and licks the spot your teeth had worried moments earlier. He feels entirely scrutinized under your gaze. With a short exhale, you answer, "Because he asked."

Before he can say anything more, you've followed Julian's example and walked out the door, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the study.

He never did find out what it had been that you'd wanted to talk to him about after dinner. The next morning it was as though nothing had transpired at all. You and Julian weren't speaking, and John found he had very little to say himself.

*------------*

Julian had flown out to Boston the week after you'd left. John had figured the two of you would make up eventually, and he was glad he hadn't been wrong about that, though he and Julian had argued once again about him simply telling you the truth of why he kept turning away set ups with women. Julian was staunchly against it still, even more so now that you'd agreed to marry Matthew and didn't appear to be wavering in your decision at all. The two of them simply didn't address anything else Julian had said, and John decided that was likely for the best.

The holidays had passed uneventfully - he'd spent it mostly with Cece, only seeing you and Julian the day after Christmas when everyone gathered at your parents' home to exchange presents and for everyone to meet baby Amara. He watched as you sat in the large chair in the living room, holding Amara in your hands as she slept, Matthew perched on the arm of the chair. He can't help but smile - you'd be a good mother, even if yours hadn't been.

The call regarding Julian's death had come in mid-February, Dom on the other end telling him that Julian had been victim to a mugging gone wrong. The funeral had been held back in Connecticut, Julian's body shipped back. Your parents had opted for a closed casket, so John was left to remember December 26th - the last time he'd seen his best friend in person.

His eyes searched for you at the funeral, and when he saw you, it was as though you weren't even there. Your father had been the one to stand and speak - he would've thought it would be you. Julian would've preferred that, he was sure. He'd gone through the line of people offering their condolences robotically, inching along behind his father. As he approached, he sees your eyes look up - first at his father, who hugs you quickly, and then at him. He can't move. He's frozen. He sees your lower lip tremble - he hadn't yet seen you shed a single tear - you'd stood stoically by to your parents the entire prior hour and a half that he'd observed you.

It's as though he moves on autopilot, his hand reaching out for yours - it was good that he had, as you had nearly tripped forward into him, your arms wrapped tiredly around his shoulders. He's quick to usher you away, into the back room where Sunday School classes are typically held.

Your body shakes against him in silent sobs as tears cascade down. He's unsure how, but the two of you had ended up on the brightly patterned carpet of the classroom, his legs spread out in front of him and you're situated on his lap as close to his chest as possible as your body is wracked with sobs. He clutches you tightly to him, holding you close and allowing you to fall apart the way you needed to. He'd hold it together for the both of you.

When his mother peaks in to the room, he signals her away. It was likely due to her that no one else bothers the two of you again. You say nothing and neither does he. When you finally calm down, his fingers brush away the remaining tears on your face and he feels you reach up and do the same to him. He hadn't realized he'd cried as well.

He helps you up and the two of you walk out. He watches as you approach Matthew, who wraps an arm around your shoulder and looks at him with what could almost be classified as gratitude. Matthew wasn't equipped to deal with this.

*------------*

He hears you'd been in an accident only a month or so afterwards. He's in the middle of a deposition and unable to go in person. He hears from his mother that you'd gone through some surgery but were otherwise alright. There was something in her voice that gave him some pause, but he hadn't had the time to press further.

He sent a bouquet of dahlias along with a Get Well Soon card.

*------------*

You're set to graduate and he's not sure if he should go. His father had asked him over a few weeks prior and told him that Julian's death hadn't been accidental. He didn't know what to believe anymore.

He doesn't go. He's not quite ready to see you again yet.

Julian was dead. What was there really to do?

*------------*

"So eventually, the guy calms down enough after I explain that the fire alarm on the gallery wall wasn't an art piece and not for sale, but only after he made poor Lucille cry, can you believe it?"

John laughs, shaking his head. "Lucille's easy to make cry though, you have to admit." he says, handing Cece the glass of wine he'd just poured.

She laughs, and is about to launch into another story, as the doorbell rings. "I'll get it," she says, leaving him in the kitchen to finish loading the dishwasher.

A minute or so later, he hears footsteps and turns to see Cece, followed by you. He hadn't seen you since Julian's funeral, and there you stood in his kitchen, entirely soaked from the rain outside, having dripped water on the floors on your way in.

"Y/N said she needed to speak with you," Cece supplies, breaking him out of the stupor his brain had entered at the sight of you. "I think I'm going to head out, let the two of you talk."

John simply nods, not thinking to ask her to stay or even thank her. The two of you stare at one another, and he finds himself entirely uncomfortable being alone with you, for the very first time.

"Let me grab you a towel," he manages, indicating you towards the couch in the living room. He walks to the linens cabinet in the back and by the time he returns, you've shed your jacket and are facing away from him in a light tank top, revealing your shoulders and a large fading bruise off to one side.

He wordlessly hands you the towel and watches as you squeeze the water out of your hair, wet tendrils clinging to the side of your face. You still haven't spoken a single word and he finds himself at a loss to say much of anything. He knows you graduated a couple of weeks prior and he knows his father had attended, not wanting to miss his god daughter's graduation ceremony. He wonders briefly if his father had decided to enlighten you as to the true nature of Julian's death, and comes to the conclusion that he had. Why else would you be there?

"How'd that happen?" he asks, breaking the silence as you had turned away from him to slip out of your boots, indicating towards the bruise he'd seen.

You look over your shoulder at him with your eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't worry about it." you reply, turning around and holding up your hand, showing him your empty ring finger. "Waited till Singapore was a done deal, and I ended it."

John lets out a deep breath of disbelief. Matthew had hurt you so much that you had a bruise traversing the length of your upper back. What the hell had he done to you? He can feel the rage and surge of protectiveness that he typically feels around you, storming in his head, and as though you could sense his shift, you place a feather light touch to his arm. "It's alright. I'm fine. Ricky already broke his nose."

That doesn't cause him to worry any less whatsoever. Things had been so bad that Ricky had broken the bastard's nose. A rogue snort escapes him regardless, as he tries to calm himself. Now wasn't the time to get riled up about Matthew - especially if he was history. "Always did like that Ricky kid," he says instead, in an attempt to not slip back into silence. The silence had been wildly uncomfortable and now that it had been broken, he was intent on keeping it that way.

You're toweling off your wet hair as you watch him, your eyes appraising him and then turning to look around at his place. He saw his loft through your eyes - the exposed brick and open floorplan. His bed off to the other side, sheets still rumpled from when Cece had been over. It had been his attempt to tone down his lifestyle - girls got odd ideas when he'd take them back to the company owned apartment he'd stayed in the first couple of months after his internship wrapped with McGuire.

"Really bought into the whole Brooklyn hipster thing, didn't you?" you say, your tone colored with a hint of humor he hadn't expected.

John lets out a half laugh, knowing it wasn't quite your taste. Whatever had brought you to his door despite the pouring rain outside seemed far away at the moment.

"You want something to drink? Eat?" he asks, gesturing you over to the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water and sets it on the counter for you.

You follow, hopping onto the island as he busies himself with putting the dishes away again, knowing you'll talk once you're ready. It's quiet for a couple of minutes - the only sounds coming from the rain outside and the movement from him working his way through the rest of the load. He looks outside, feeling a small bit of guilt for letting Cece leave in this weather. He'd have to make it up to her later.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask finally, as he puts the final plate in and shuts the dishwasher.

The question finally vocalized was far less angry than anticipated. He’d expected fury and rage raining down upon him for keeping the truth from you. He’d expected having to beg for your forgiveness. This quiet line of questioning felt alarmingly wrong to him. John turns, leaning against the opposite counter, his shoulders hunched together, arms crossed in front of his chest. You're still seated on the island, legs dangling, palms pressed into the granite, knuckles tensed around the edge. He looks up to meet your eyes and his voice catches as he does - you've dropped the veil you'd worn when you first arrived, revealing the unbridled pain underneath. Glassy eyes follow his, searching for some sort of answer - some explanation that would help make sense of your world that had been turned upside down.

"I -," he sighs deep, trying to gather his thoughts all together but they keep slipping out of his hands like sand. "I didn't think you'd - you'd believe me or what good it would do," he manages out, unable to look up at you, instead settling for fixing his gaze to where Matthew's ring used to sit. There was still a white ring there, the surrounding skin a couple of shades darker.

You're silent in the face of his confession. He hadn't wanted to be the one to turn your life upside down. He hadn't wanted to be the reason you questioned everything. He should've. He knows that. He'd been a coward, running away from it all. Unwilling to shoulder the responsibility of the fall out. He can't help but feel like he's joined the list of men who have completely let you down.

“Did you know - did you always know ab - about Julian?” you ask, eyes downcast as you struggle to put your question into words.

John can imagine the hurt you must’ve felt when you finally learned Julian’s life long secret. How that must have eaten away at you, made you question what you’d done to frighten Julian into never telling you. How many puzzle pieces must have fallen together - the fact that Julian never once brought home a girl, how he never once expressed interest in anyone openly, every refusal to marry. He knows how your fight with Julian must haunt you now - knowing the full context of his actions. Agreeing to marry a woman your parents set him up with - any woman - would have killed his spirit entirely.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, meeting your eyes as he does.

You let out a breath and he sees your shoulders slump as you look away from him, trying to hide the tears in your eyes from him. You were never quite that good at hiding things from him, however. Your lips part as though you wish to say something or ask something, but appear to think better of it, shaking your head as you do. John’s uncertain where this hesitation in you is coming from. There should be a barrage of questions being hurled at him right now - not the two questions he’s gotten so far. Nothing about this feels right to him.

Your hair has started to curl slightly as it dries, forming waves around your face, and he's tempted to push the hair behind your ears, out of your face because he knows how that bothers you.

"What now?" he asks, unable to linger in the silence any longer.

You shake your head as you look at him, releasing a long held sigh. "I have no idea. I cashed out the trust fund and deferred law school. By now Matthew must've told them that I ended things. I haven't heard anything from anyone." The lack of response must be killing you, he knows. Perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He nods. Letting Singapore go through uninterrupted probably helped - it would buy you time if nothing else. He doubts your father thinks you know the truth about Julian. More than likely, it'll be chalked up to nerves or rebellion - maybe even grief.

You hop off of the island, landing right in front of him and he resists the urge to reach out and steady you on your feet. "Thank you. I should go. Tell Cece I'm sorry for interrupting," you say, throwing a half apologetic smile his way over your shoulder.

You walk back to the couch, and he follows, watching you lean down and pull your shoes back on.

His brow scrunches up in concern. You were leaving already? "Where are you going to go?" he asks, watching you apprehensively. That was it? Why even bother coming then?

"Not sure yet. I'll see you around," you reply over your shoulder, shrugging your jacket back on.

With that, you're gone as quickly as you came, and he's left feeling off kilter, staring around his apartment, wondering if you'd been some sort of hallucination. A fever dream borne of a guilty mind that hadn’t felt at peace in a very long time.

*------------*

He didn't hear from you again for a couple of months. The next he even heard of you was in the gossip magazines that Cece had brought over to his apartment to read on Sunday mornings while he cooked them both breakfast. She showed him photographs of you wearing skimpy dresses, escorted by pretty boy model types at every club in the city.

Through the grapevine - and he was guilty of using Cece to get the inside track on everything - he finds out that you'd moved into an apartment in the Upper East Side and had made it your goal to be the most notorious party girl the city's ever seen. It's in complete contrast to the low profile you typically keep and he sees it for what it is - a bizarre attempt at drawing attention to yourself. To what end, he could only guess at.

Another month in, and he gets a drunken call from you, providing him the name of some pub that is decidedly low brow - nothing like the clubs and speakeasies you're known to haunt. He arrives to find you seated at the bar, your short dress hiked up past the point of decency, nearly passed out. He finds out where you live and helps you to your place, depositing you on your couch. The guys at the front desk had him in their system already it seemed, and he'd been waved up rather quickly as he carried your limp form.

He leaves you there as he has work the following morning, and taking care of twenty two year old socialites isn't something he has the time or energy to do, even if it is you. It's as though he can feel himself being sucked into your tornado and he's digging his heels in, determined to stay away. He knows that if he gives in, that'll be it. You'll take over his life, his breath, his soul all over again and it had taken far too much out of him to escape the first time.

*------------*

Cece asks him if he's spoken to you recently. Apparently, you've been getting somewhat of a reputation. She heard from her contacts in the art world that you'd been frequenting some pill parties and it was only a matter of time before the tabloids got a hold of it.

There's a growing pit in his stomach anytime you come up, anytime he sees your face on the cover of a paper as he buys coffee, anytime something small reminds him of you. You're both in Manhattan every day. You're never more than a dozen miles away from him. Yet, what's he supposed to do really? He's not your caretaker. You're an adult. The worst thing in the world had happened and you're coping with it just as he had coped with it.

Despite that, he knows this isn't really you - not how you typically cope. You're entirely mission oriented and your way of dealing with things usually comes in the form of finding something new to conquer, something new to be good at, something new to distract yourself with. This is the first time he's seen you latch onto something destructive just to keep going on.

*------------*

"Do you think it hurt, when he died?"

John blinks, still trying to make sense of what was going on. He had been woken by the shrill ringtone he had set just for you, to make sure he'd never miss a call, and as his eyes settle on the clock on the nightstand, he realizes that it's past three in the morning. His heart is beating really fast, having been startled awake harshly and his brain struggles to close the gap between dreams and reality.

"What?"

"Julian, when he died. Do you think it was fast? Was it painless? Or do you think it was drawn out? Knowing Papa, I feel like he would've drawn it out. Don't you?"

He feels the hair on the back of his neck stand at your voice and your words. At what they're implying. There’s a nearly hauntingly playful quality to your voice that gives him chills.

"Where are you?" he asks, his heart thudding in his chest still, your words ringing in his ears, and his stomach clenching over and over doing somersaults. Something's wrong. He can feel it in his bones. Something is very wrong.

"Home."

"Stay there. I'm coming over."

It's nearly twelve miles from Brooklyn to the Upper East Side and on a normal day at three in the morning it would take twenty two minutes to get there. John makes it in twelve. He leaves his bike parked right in front, despite the doorman's protests, tossing the keys to him on his way in. If he cared so much, then he could move it.

His blood runs cold when he sees you lying on the floor, pills spilling out of the bottle that lies limp in your hand. You're cold when he reaches you, his hands trembling as he feels for a pulse, before scooping you up and taking you to the shower and placing you under the stream. He forces a couple of fingers down your throat, doing his best to force the pills up, unsure how many you'd taken by the time he arrived. He feels like he's living every nightmare come to life.

It's early morning by the time you're fully conscious, lying in the tub as he sits at the edge, watching over you. He'd had a few hours to himself to just watch you and think. Things couldn't go on the way they had been. He had to do something, or the next time he wouldn't get there in time.

He sees you stir and orders you to clean up and meet him outside, his voice unrecognizable to even himself. By the time you emerge, you'd showered and wet hair clumps around your head. You're wearing his old law school hoodie, and he feels a twinge of something, despite knowing you'd done it on purpose.

He places a plate of toast in front of you. You didn't keep much in the apartment besides bottles of chilled champagne and that really wasn't what he was going to serve at six thirty in the morning to the girl who had tried to overdose on pills the night before.

"We're going to take him down," he announced, as you munch on the toast and look at him cautiously.

Your eyes flash at him and you continue to chew, buying yourself time to respond. Finally you swallow and look up at him. "We?"

"Yes. We are not doing a repeat of last night. Ever. So get that clear in your head." His voice is firm and his jaw clenched as he remembers the sight of you lying on the floor only a few hours ago.

You're quiet, looking away from him and he can see the faintest hint of color in your cheeks and he hears you sniffle quietly.

"You scared me last night." His voice is entirely controlled, only the tremor in his hand giving away how entirely affected he is by the past few hours of terror he'd lived through.

Your voice is soft when you speak, catching in your throat when you do. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I don't want sorry. I want you to promise me that it won't happen again," he begs, reaching across and tucking the hair that had fallen into your face back behind your ear.

"I miss him." You look up at him and suddenly he's reminded of the eighteen year old who had snuck into his room after graduation - entirely vulnerable, entirely young, standing at the precipice of the unknown.

John sighs. "Me too. But that doesn't mean - it doesn't mean we give up."

You nod, standing up and walking around the counter to him, wrapping your arms tight around his waist. "So what're we going to do?" you ask, looking up at him.

*------------*

You'd just left his parents' home after having dinner with the three of them, followed by drinks in the study with his father, his mother choosing to retire to bed early.

The three of you had been working together on how to dismantle your father from the inside, and already he'd seen a big change in you. It wasn't how you'd been before, but it was better than it had been recently, and he'd take that win for now.

"You should know," his father discloses, clearing his desk of the files he'd taken out to share with the two of you, "when she turned eighteen, I asked her father about her and you - we all saw the way you look at her. I thought it would be nice to unite our families as one.”

John looks at his father with some amount of surprise. He hadn't known that - that he'd approached your father for your hand.

"Don't look so surprised son. You're not nearly as subtle as you like to think you are. Her father wasn't surprised either. I imagine he ensured it didn't happen regardless. The Hawthornes were not politically useful to him and he needed to keep her available." There's a slight bitter quality to his father's voice.

John nods, a stuttered breath escaping him. He wonders what your father had said to Julian in order to get him to interfere the way he had. He wonders if you knew.

"You need to be careful, son. Don't fall for her again," his father warns. John doesn't know how to break it to him - it was already far too late for that.

*------------*

John's woken up at eight in the morning on a Sunday with a knock on his door. Bleary eyed, he goes to open it, only to have a clipboard shoved in his face. A delivery man is standing here, urging him to sign for a package.

"It's downstairs. Can't bring it here. Won't fit."

What kind of a package was that big that it wouldn't fit in the elevator? He follows the man downstairs, who leads him to a truck, from the back of which a motorcycle is rolled off.

John stands there, blinking, unsure what to make of it all. Right as the delivery man hands him the keys, a cab pulls up, and out you step, looking far more dressed up and cheery than anyone should that early in the morning.

"Oh good it's here," you exclaim, beaming at him.

"What's going on?" he asks, taking in your appearance - the leather jacket and the combat boots. You looked like you were playing a biker chick for Halloween.

"I had Julian's bike shipped over," you explain, your eyes taking in his shirtless appearance and skimming over the grey sweatpants he had worn to bed. "You're going to teach me how to ride it."

He raises an eyebrow. "I am?"

"Yes. Now go put on a shirt. When do you even have time to do all that?" you ask, waving your hands in the general direction of his chest and abs, a flirty smile on your face that makes him blush ever so slightly. "Thought you were a lawyer."

John could feel a migraine coming on as he shivers from the cold. There really was no talking you out of this or reasoning to do this at a more humane hour. Rolling his eyes, he tosses you the keys before going upstairs to change.

*------------*

It had been a heart attack from nowhere. He'd gotten a call from his mother in the dead of night, hysterically screaming for him. Apparently you'd gotten the same call, as you'd arrived at the hospital before even he did. You held his mother together while the doctor spoke to him. It had been quick, relatively painless as far as death goes.

Everyone had come for the funeral, and from the corner of his eye he saw you greeting both of your parents as though nothing had happened. Your father's arm around your waist fills him with disgust, leaving him wondering how you could stand his touch after knowing everything that you did.

The funeral and wake afterwards seem to stretch on forever and all he wants is to be away from all the people.

It's late and most everyone had left, his mother catered to by her sisters - he'd needed a breather. He'd ended up in his childhood bedroom - surrounded by his soccer trophies, swimming medals, debate gavels - a shrine his mother had maintained to him and his achievements.

"Hey."

He turns at the sound of your softly hesitant voice as you stand at the door. You're still wearing the black dress you'd worn earlier in the day, a delicate strand of pearls wrapped tightly around your neck. He recognizes it as a piece his father had gifted you for one of your birthdays when you were younger, and he smiles at the memory of everyone surrounding you while you wore a tiara and blew out candles.

"Hey, come on in Cap."

You smile slightly at his use of the moniker, and walk in, carefully shutting the door behind you. The bed shifts as you come and sit by him, your hand reaching for his. He feels a streak of warmth go through him - the first bit of warmth he's felt since he saw his mother's crying face at the hospital.

"He's gone," he whispers, turning towards you. His father was gone. He's an adult, and this was a part of life, but he wasn't even thirty years old yet. Parents weren't supposed to die when you're that young. They're supposed to be there when you get married, when you have kids. His father would never meet his children.

You squeeze his hand, bringing his head down to your shoulder as you hold him. Tears won't come. He didn't think he was capable - not yet at least. Right now it was enough to feel something - anything.

He takes another deep breath and as he turns his head, he catches your worried look. His eyes go from yours to your lips and back again and before he knows it, he's leaned in. You let him. He pulls away, set to apologize, but when he tries to, your lips cover his again. A shuddered breath traverses through the both of you as he lowers you to the navy blue sheets that cover the bed, your light hands traveling from his face to his hair, to his arms - leaving sparks of sensation everywhere they go. He acts on pure instinct, the two of you careful to keep quiet as his hands roam, touching skin and drawing noises, whose mere imagination had maintained permanent residence in his dreams for years.

*------------*

It had been two weeks since his father's funeral before he sees you again by himself. He'd spent a large amount of that time with his mother, helping her pack up his father's things and sort through the will. You’d been there with her whenever he couldn’t be.

He kept replaying that night over and over again in his head. It shouldn't have happened like that. The two of you - finally - it should've been perfect. Instead it had been coated with grief and hurt - a desire to provide comfort and years of pent up longing that should've exploded but instead simmered into a low fizzle. It had still been what he had needed. It just hadn't been what you needed, and he couldn't help but feel guilty for that, as he remembers you giving him a half hearted smile and adjusting your clothes before heading back downstairs.

"They turned me down," you complain as he opens the door to you.

He lets you walk in and you hand him a piece of paper that he reads twice before it fully clicks. "The CIA rejected you?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah, can you believe it?" You scoff, rolling your eyes, entitlement wafting off of you.

You seem entirely put out as you help yourself to the scotch he'd been drinking and he can't help but laugh a bit. "You've never been rejected before, have you? Princess has never not gotten what she wants." He knows you haven't - Harvard undergrad, accepted to Harvard Law School, top of your class and winning every single thing you'd ever set out for.

You shake your head at his somewhat obvious mockery and make yourself comfortable on his couch next to him, not responding as you focus instead on drinking. It was still odd seeing you drinking real liquor - like you'd actually grown up. Ruefully, you reply, "I've never really gotten what I want."

He's left to ponder that response while you drink some more.

"So I suppose I'll be going to my safety school at the FBI," you sigh after a few minutes, reaching across his lap for the remote. "I feel like I'm going to Columbia or something," you joke, trying to shake it off.

"Hey!"

You laugh as you flick on the news, settling into his side. He's glad you're still casually comfortable together. There had been a part of him that had worried that things would be different afterwards, so it was good to see that you haven't deviated from your normal treatment of him. He watches you as your eyes are trained on the TV anchor, your face scrunching up with every sip of the scotch. You're still not used to the taste or the burn, even if you like to pretend to enjoy it now.

"Let me make it up to you."

You turn up to look at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Last time,” he explains, swallowing a breath that threatens to burst out of him. “It shouldn't have been like that. You didn't - you didn't finish. Let me make it up to you."

You chuckle dismissively, patting his thigh with your hand. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" he presses. He's had a taste of you. He's not ready to just let it go. Let you go.

You're quiet for a second, before you push up from the couch. He follows.

"Because it won't be what you think it will - what you want it to be. It won't be us how it should've been,” you say, your voice low and colored with sadness, fingers fretting with the edge of your top, and eyes unable to meet his.

The two of you stand in the middle of the loft, the draft chilling the air around you. Your words linger in the air, swirling around the two of you.

"What do you mean?" he asks, reaching out for you. The two of you consciously or unconsciously moving around the space, closer and closer to the bed.

You bite your lip, as though unsure of how to say it. How to say it in a way that will resonate with him. "I am not the nine year old that said I was going to marry you one day, John," you clarify, a sad smile gracing your face as you look up at him. "I'm not the fifteen year old that begged you to be my first kiss. I'm not the eighteen year old that thought I'd have a beautiful life with you. Those girls are dead. I can't be who you want me to be."

John feels his heart sink at your declaration, despite knowing you're right. It's not the same as it once had been. The last time he was with you was proof enough of that. And yet, he doesn't want the time after his father's funeral to be it - not after everything. He couldn't quite bear it to leave it at that. Not if there was a chance.

"Be you then. Let me be whoever you need me to be."

You eye him carefully, surprised at his persistence. The two of you have managed to maneuver yourselves towards the other side of the loft, near his bed, and he watches apprehensively as you walk slowly closer to him, an odd glint in your eye. He finds himself instinctively backing up as you approach, until the back of his legs hit the bedframe.

"You sure about that?" you ask, and before he can catch a breath, your hands have come up and shoved against his chest, pushing him to the bed. He bounces on the mattress ever so slightly, his eyes widened in surprise as you quickly straddle him, your face oh so close to his. "Is this okay?" you appraise him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders to maintain your balance.

He nods, moving forward and capturing your lips. He only manages to feel in control for a second, before it’s swept away from him, your fingers harshly pulling at his hair, drawing a groan from him as he finds himself bucking up towards you. It's all fast, hard - nothing like he'd imagined it would be like with you. However, it's only afterwards, as you get out of bed and pull your clothes on to leave, that he realizes exactly how different it is. He finds himself unable to say anything. After all, you'd warned him. He watches you get fully dressed and slip out the door with only a half smile and wave. Never before has he felt so...used.

The next morning, he sees the angry red scratch marks clawed into his back and the bruises left on the rest of him - that’s when it fully sinks in. You're not you.

It happens a couple more times before he starts giving as good as he's getting, and for a second you're surprised. Shockingly, instead of being discouraged, it only serves to spur you further.

Things continue in the same way throughout your training at the FBI. You tell him not to wait. That you aren't exclusive and he should date. After all, you're only back in the city around once a month and he never comes to DC. You always arrive on Julian's old motorcycle. You never spend the night. He tries dating but it's hard to want to become exclusive with other women, knowing that you'll be back again in a couple of weeks. His father’s words loom in his head constantly on the nights he lies awake wondering how you’re doing, if you’re alright, if you’re thinking of him too.

He knows he has to wait. He has to wait to tell you until everything is done and the dust settles. There’s a ring with your name on it sitting in his mother’s jewelry box. He just has to ride this out, until you’re you again.

*------------*

You'd accepted a spot on the BAU. He'd thought you'd take the offer in White Collar or something else that was based out of the New York field office at least. However, you said you liked DC and that you liked this one team in particular, and John found himself confused. The plan was really just to get access via the FBI - who cares which team it was on.

You don't see him the first few months you're on this new team. It seems you're always traveling and your phone calls are few and far in between. He starts taking on more than his fair share of the billing hours, working sixteen hour days every day. It won’t be long until he’s made partner - youngest partner in the firm’s history.

He gets far too happy when you tell him you're coming back to New York for the holidays, and ask to spend them with him. He's nearly giddy with excitement. He gets the babka from the Jewish deli you like and he grabs a couple of bottles of champagne to ring in the new year with.

You arrive, a large smile on your face, your nose red from the chill and a cute little beanie on top of your head. You laugh and leap into his arms immediately and you kiss him and he forgets how to breathe. You're in his arms and you're smiling and you're kissing him without it leading to sex and for the first time in two years he feels a surge of hope flowing through him. That's my baby.

You tell him about the team and how much you've been learning, as the two of you settle into eating dinner together. It's so nice to hear you excited about something - it reminds him of when you first started at Harvard and the two of you were still maintaining a strong friendship despite putting your relationship on the back burner. All the late night phone calls where he'd fall asleep to the sound of you talking about your history and art classes, everything you were learning in criminology and psychology and he'd just hum and listen, taking it all in. At the time, he'd been worried that you were going to work yourself to the bone doing a triple major and a minor, but you hadn't been able to decide what you wanted to do and you were intent on doing it all. It’s that similar charged passion now as you tell him about the latest case. You deal with serial killers every day and it isn’t something he’d have ever thought you’d do. You tell him about your team and that you’ve made friends, you talk about some kid’s birthday party and ask his advice on a gift, and there is this light in your eyes, this hopeful softness to your smile and he can see every possibility with you.

After dinner, the two of you sit on the couch as he fills you in on his most recent trial that he's been working, glasses of scotch in hand. He's a little surprised again when you kiss him softly, completely unlike the past year or so that you two have been intimate. He can't help but escalate it, pulling you into his lap. This was it. This was how it was always meant to be. You let him carry you to the bed and slowly lower you, going down and down as he works his way down your body. Every touch inciting a soft moan from you, every moan in turn bolstering him onward. He's not sure what changed, but you let him be with you the way he's wanted to be with you forever. Your fingers wrap around his neck, pulling him close after you both finish, leaving him buried within you. He feels your lips ghost over his forehead, fingers running through his hair. You make no move to leave.

The sun streams in through the windows, waking him the next morning. He doesn't feel you next to him, and for a second he panics and thinks you'd snuck out in the middle of the night, having realized your mistake. You don’t stay the night. Ever. You barely even linger afterwards. But then he sees you standing by the window at the kitchen, wearing his shirt and some socks to protect from the chill, a mug of coffee in your hand. His heart flutters at the sight.

He gets up, slipping on a pair of pajama pants, before joining you at the window, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and tucking his head onto your shoulder. It's only when he tries to kiss you that he notices your glossy eyes holding unshed tears.

"Hey Cap," he says softly to you, turning your face towards him gently. "What's wrong?"

You're worrying your bottom lip between your teeth and your hand, the one that isn't clutching the mug tightly is bunched into the shirt you're wearing, wrinkling the material. "I'm sorry," you manage to breathe out. "I am so sorry for all of this."

John feels his breath start to swell in concern, and he rubs his hands up and down your arms soothingly. "What're you sorry about?" Everything was finally good. What could there possibly be to be sorry about?

You swallow back a sob. "Doing this job, I see all these people every day who have been messed up by their fathers. Day in and day out, that's all I see. People trying to make sense of the world in one way or another because of how much their parents screwed them up. And you know what? A lot of these people hurt other people because of how much they've been hurt. It sickens me to relate to them - these sickos, pedophiles, and murderers and I think to myself, wow, that could easily be me if I let my father continue to get to me. If I keep going down this path where all I'm doing is basing everything around revenge and taking him down. My life is all consumingly him and I want it to not be."

John nods understandingly, as you continue to let him hold you. The pain in your voice causes his heart to clench.

"I don't like those people and I don't want to be them. I have a chance to stop them. Do something good. Feel clean for once in my life."

"If that's what you want, then alright,” he reassures you. Of course you’d do whatever was best for you - you should know that he would always do what was best for you. “But why are you apologizing to me?"

"Because - because I don't think I can do this, if I'm reminded of Julian everyday,” you sob. “I don't want to forget him, but - but I'm also not strong enough to think about him every single day and be reminded of what happened to him all the time. I want a chance to get out.”

He looks at you, trying to read between the lines of what you’re saying, and the realization dawns on him. The softness, the apologies - the way you’d let him hold you and have you wholly for the first time. The fact that you’d stayed. You were trying to say goodbye.

He can feel the mounting panic that he tries to quell. You’ve obviously thought this through, that much is clear. You’re trying to do good, to be good, to shed the shadow of your father and he can’t fault you for that in any way. It’s the right thing to do, and he knows it. He’d thrown you a life raft the day he’d found you passed out on your living room floor, and he’d started to help you paddle towards shore. He hadn’t cared what land the two of you would arrive at - the only goal being arriving on solid ground at all.

You look at him mournfully and take in a shuddered breath that he can feel rush through you as you’re still pressed against him. You stand in the cage of his arms, never once making an attempt to move away. “John, if you ask me to stay, I will,” you whisper nervously, your eyes meeting his, letting him see everything. “But, I am begging you, please don't. Don't ask me to stay. I have a shot at doing something good - something that has nothing to do with my father. Doing this job makes me feel like I'm making amends and undoing some of the bad that exists in the world. I'm starting to feel clean again. But I don't think I can do that if I have one foot in this world and - "

"And you can't do that if I'm around. Because I'm part of it. I'm part of this world."

You nod, taking another deep breath as the tears continue to fall. Down your face and his.  

"I love you." He can't help but say it. He needs to. He needs you to know, if only once.

You smile despite the tears, reaching up to cup his cheek and he leans into it and he leans into you. "I know. But I don't think that's good for either one of us anymore. I used to. But I think the two of us are too broken in the same ways. We've both been on the outskirts of the same life and we're scarred by the same darkness. All of our jagged pieces, they fit so well together. But I'm starting to think that kind of love isn't the good kind. I don't really want jagged pieces anymore. I don't want to have to have someone fit me in order to round out my edges. I want to be whole all on my own. I feel like we both need that. We both deserve that - and I can’t give it to you.”

When you said it like that, how could he even attempt to disagree.

He releases the breath he’s been holding for the past while. Your arms are still wrapped around his waist, and he lets you - he lets you be his solace. He wraps his arms tightly around your back, pulling you into him, as close as he possibly can, head bent and resting on your shoulder.

“What if I never love anyone like this again?” he asks, his words a mumble against your skin. You’re the person he talks to about things like this.

You shift, moving your head back to rest against the brick walls, bringing both arms up, holding his face gently with both hands. “You won’t,” you tell him tenderly, tilting your head ever so slightly as your eyes meet his. “You’ll love them differently. But that doesn't mean that it won't be real or deep or any less meaningful - just different. Hopefully, with any luck, it’ll be better. Because you deserve the world, John.”

You rest your forehead to his and he lets himself bask in the feeling of you - you all around him, you everywhere, you in his arms.

He prays with all his might, that you find what you’re looking for.

*------------*

The tattoos had been his idea. He wanted something to always remember Julian by. But he was also a selfish man - he needed a tether - something to tie you to him forever.

You part ways outside the tattoo parlor, one of the bottles of champagne that he'd bought in your bag. He goes home alone.

You ride the bike back to DC and pop open the bottle of champagne on New Year's Eve all by yourself, drinking to a fresh start.

[babi-correia]

Not-So-Ex-Wife

From Anon:

15 and 52 with jay halstead x depressed/stubborn reader whos also in intelligence please? thanks 👍🏻 

Words: 2057 Warnings: Canon-typical violence Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader A/N: Hope you like it!

“What’s up your ass today, (Y/L/N)?”

Any other day, that sentence would be playful banter that you’d engage and reply at the same level. Any other day, you would be in a good mood, even in the early morning. Any other day, you would not want to murder Adam the moment those words left his lips. But today was not any other day.

“Would you mind ever so kindly minding your own fucking business, Ruzek?” You snap, sitting at your desk and logging into your computer to begin the workday.

“Have you had your coffee yet? You sound like you need a caffeine fix.” Adam continues, continuing to push your nerves. You glare at him over the screen, the murderous intent clear as day in your eyes.

“Adam, either you cut it out or the case we’ll be solving today will be your murder.” You growl, sinking back into the chair and watching the computer screen as it loads. You take a pencil from the mug on your desk and twirl it around your fingers, trying to distract yourself.

You clench your jaw when Jay walks in and it goes unnoticed by precisely no one, Adam raising his brow as the pencil in your hand cracks slightly under your grip. Voight walks out of his office, waving a folder in his hand as Jay sits down.

“Halstead, you’re late.” Voight remarks, opening the folder and sticking some pictures onto the whiteboard. “We have a hot case. Some kids were playing on the trail when they found a woman’s body. Tracy Delaya, 25, choked briefly before being stabbed.”

“I’ve seen this M.O. before, back in Homicide.” You say, pointing at the peculiar stab pattern. “All women, early twenties, and by the pattern of the stabbing, I’d say she’s a Taurus.”

“What?” Adam is the one voicing the collective confusion as you get up and take a closer look at the stab wounds on the victim. You get back to your computer, pulling up the cold case files and printing them.

“Back when I was in Homicide we caught a string of cases like this.” You say, grabbing the freshly printed paper and pinning it to the whiteboard beside Tracy’s picture. “Anna, Clara, Dora, Patricia, and now Tracy. Anna was Capricorn, Clara was Aquarius, Dora was Pisces, Patricia was Aries, Tracy is Taurus. He’s following the star signs calendar with his murders.”

“He?”

“We got some DNA evidence on Clara, she scratched him. The DNA was degraded to the point where we couldn’t get an ID, but we could determine it was male.” You grab the felt pen and begin to write under the pictures, scribbling the women’s names, ages, and star signs. “The stab wounds have the pattern of the star sign’s constellation. He’s going after a Gemini now.”

“Do you still have contact with witnesses and CIs involved in this case?” Voight asks, making you scratch the back of your neck as you think.

“It was a few years ago, but I’ll give it a shot.” You say, grabbing your badge and your gun from the top of your desk and clipping them on your pants’ waist.

“Take someone with you.” Voight calls out after you, and you don’t even stop to call the person.

“Adam, come on.” You say, strutting down the stairs. The rest of the team exchange confused looks before Adam follows you downstairs and into your car, sitting in the passenger seat and facing you with a questioning look on his face.

“It’s always Jay. Jay’s your partner. What the hell is going on, (Y/L/N)?” Adam asks as you start the car, your eyes fixated on the road.

“Well, maybe I want to change it up. Maybe I’m too mad at something to even be able to see Jay. Maybe I’m entitled to have feelings.” You say, getting a confused squeak from Adam right as his phone rings with a text message.

“See. He’s asking me why you’re mad at him.” Adam mumbles. “What happened? Why are you mad?”

“Maybe if he didn’t lie to me, I wouldn’t be mad.” You say, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel when you get to a red stoplight. “Maybe if I hadn’t believed that he was different and that we had something nice going on I wouldn’t be like this. I always get my hopes up and now I’m fucked, as per usual, and I’m fucking angry at it, and at myself for allowing me to believe something good was coming out of this.”

“Stop, freeze frame, rewind, hold on for a second.” Adam says, shaking his head as he tries to make sense of what you just said. “You had something nice going on? He lied to you? Are the two of you dating or something?”

“…It’s complicated.” You grumble, going forward as soon as the sign turns green. “We meet up after work for drinks at either his or my place, we talk for hours, it’s been really nice, you know? Like one of those cliché relationship starts from the movies. It was probably just some normal partner relationship and I read too much into it. Anyway, I got carried away into thinking it was something more, and I saw him with someone else yesterday.”

“This… This is confusing. But this is also grounds for me to win the bet.” Adam says, rubbing his hands as you raise your brow at him. “Who was he with, though?”

“Abby McSweeney.” You snap, your grip on the wheel tightening as Adam’s eyebrows reach his forehead. “His darling ex-who-isn’t-really-ex-wife.”

“Oh wow.”

“Yeah. So I’m pissed. Mostly at myself, but seeing his face definitely does not help.”

You can see Ruzek picking up his phone and typing fervently as you park the car. You shake your head and get out of the car, spotting a hooded man walking towards one of your previous witnesses.

Drawing your gun, you creep up until you see the man just a couple of steps away from your witness, something metallic glinting in his hand.

“Chicago PD!” You shout, aiming your gun and stalking forward, making the man stop in his tracks before turning around and running in the opposite direction. You turn to Adam, nodding with your head towards the witness. “Adam, stay with her!”

You take off running after the man, feeling your muscles burning as you sprint as fast as you can, turning corners and leaping obstacles.

“Goddamn it (Y/L/N), wait up!” Adam shouts, sounding out of breath. “50-21 Ida, requesting back-up, two plain clothed officers pursuing a suspect on foot.”

You cut your path through a narrow alley and will yourself to go faster, tackling the suspect to the ground. You shout when the knife in his hand connects with your arm and then knicks your face, making you wrestle the knife out of his grasp and away from him, landing a few solid punches before Adam catches up and points his gun at the man on the floor, reinforcing the idea that he had nowhere to go.

You get up and get your cuffs, arresting the man and wiping the blood off your face.

“Never mind that, Main. Suspect is in custody.” Adam says into his radio, turning to you. “You know that fighting people, both verbal and physically, isn’t the only solution available for when things don’t go your way, right?”

-

The rest of the day seems to trickle by slowly, annoying you to no end. When the clock finally reaches the clock-out time, all of you get up and gather your things to go home for the day.

“Anyone up to go to Molly’s?” Kevin asks, giving everyone puppy eyes. You shake your head, putting on your jacket.

“Not me, I’m going home.” You say, gathering your house keys and jacket. “Long day, I’m sore, I need a bath and my bed.”

“Oh c’mon (Y/N), please join us!” He begs, hugging you from behind and making you chuckle.

“I’m really not in the mood Kev, I’m sorry. Some other time, ok?” You negotiate, making him let you go.

You wave your goodbyes at everyone before making your way down the stairs, making your way to your car. You exit the precinct’s doors and see the tanned brunette standing by Jay’s car, your blood beginning to boil over once again before you shake your head and briskly walk towards your car.

You unlock the driver’s door and get in, just sitting behind the wheel for a while as you watch the rest of the team leave the precinct through your rear-view mirror. With a clenched jaw, you watch as Jay goes to her. You fire up the engine and put on your seatbelt, pulling out of the parking lot and driving back to your apartment.

You curse internally as you park your car in front of your apartment building and see Jay’s GMC pulling up on the opposite side; before, living across the street from your partner and best friend seemed like a godsend, but now it just seemed like a cruel punishment. You turn off your car and undo your seatbelt, trying to get out of the car and into the apartment building before Jay notices that you’re only just arriving as well, but no such luck.

He crosses the road in a jog, catching up to you as you’re making your way up the stairs and grabbing your arm, turning you around.

“What’s going on?” He asks, his blue eyes pleading as he tries to find the answer on your face. “We’re partners, and today you ditched me for Ruzek? You didn’t even talk to me all day. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” You say, pulling your arm out of his grasp. You hate yourself for how much you’re about to lie, but you can’t let him know the truth. “Just felt like switching it up a bit.”

You unlock the outer door, greeting your downstairs neighbor as you pass by her in the hallway. You can hear Jay hot on your tail and curse internally, hoping he just gets the message and leaves you alone.

“You’re not acting like usual, (Y/N). Please, talk to me.”

“Aren’t we all not acting like usual?” You can’t help yourself but remark, rolling your eyes at him. You can hear a little shocked huff coming from Jay as you unlock the door and take one step inside before turning around and blocking the entrance for him. “Look, Jay, I just want to relax a bit and tend to my cuts and sore muscles, ok? Just leave it.”

“I can’t leave it.” He says, planting his hand firmly on the door as you move to close it. “I want to know what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong; I was the one screwing up.” You say, hating the tremble that presents itself in your voice. “I was the one dumb enough to believe you’d ever see me as anything more than a partner and a friend, I was the one dumb enough to believe anyone could love me. Truth is, I don’t deserve to be loved, and I fooled myself into thinking otherwise. I hope you and Abby are happy.”

You’re sniffling by the end of your little rant, your eyes glued on the floor as silence fills the hallway. You meekly move to close the door, feeling the tears brimming your eyes when Jay bursts inside, nearly tackling you. He holds you up and closes the door with his foot, eyes wide with disbelief.

“You think me and Abby are together?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not, this is a huge misunderstanding, oh my god. I’ve been meeting her because we’re finally formalizing the divorce. I served her papers a couple weeks ago. And what bullshit it that about not deserving to be loved? You’re one of the most lovable people I know, (Y/N). Hell, I don’t even know how long I fell head over heels with you, but I did, and I fell so fucking hard, you have no idea.”

The tears fall from your face as he gently cups it, leaning his forehead against yours as you start laughing hysterically before he leans in and presses a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Want to stay and watch a movie?”

“Of course.”