#and of course House could still very easily have avoided talking to Chase in Ignorance is Bliss and Chase got away for his dinner

[ljblueteak]

This sequence in Chase, where Chase wants to get away from House but House catches up to him because Chase is still recovering and getting used to his crutches made me think of Chase running after House in Ignorance is Bliss when Chase says "I can outrun you" in response to House trying to avoid talking to him about the punch situation.

Ignorance is Bliss (side note: I love how Chase is barely visible in the second image—he’s some hair and an arm on the left).

[tenskittens]

Not Enough - Part III.

Part 3

Warnings: Smut, threesome, john x ten x y/n, ass play, john x ten sex, fingering, dominance, cum (everywhere, ew), angst.

Words: 2.8k.

Read part 1 & part 2 first!

It’s been a week since you contemplated changing things in your relationship. As of now, nothing has changed. In fact, things have been sort of chaotic in the NCIT house this past week - you’ve been mostly hanging out with Jaehyun working on a coding assignment you were set over the summer. Ten went away for a couple of days - he said he just wanted to spend more time with his other close friends in the WayV house, who you were all pretty close with, but you suspect he also needed a bit of time away from you and Johnny. And Johnny - well, he’d been pretty distant too, and that hurt the most. You usually spend your rare moments of free time hanging out with him, snuggling on the sofa snacking on popcorn and crisps, having a low-key smoke and binging FRIENDS or comedy movies. This week, though, he hasn’t been here as much for you - in fact, you’ve probably spent more time with Jae, even Doyoung and possibly even Jaemin and the other freshers, than you have with Johnny or Ten.

“Ah, shit, watch it! Fucking arsehole” you yell as you walk directly into your boyfriend and drop your freshly-popped corn all over the floor. “The fuck, y/n, it was an accident. Chill.”

Johnny looks at you with genuine hurt, and you’re sort of embarrassed by the way you snapped. You didn’t want him to know that you weren’t feeling great about the whole ‘being abandoned for the whole week to stress about your work with Jae whilst your boyfriend and best friend fuck of and have fun’ situation.

You are pissed off. But you remember what you’re wearing - the little pair of shorts that perfectly hug your arse, and your hair tied back just how Johnny loves it. So you bend down to scramble and pick up the popcorn from the floor, ignoring Johnny but moving yourself in such a way that you’d gain his attention. Johnny watches you from his distance, and your plan begins to work - he feels himself getting hard at the sight of you bent over on the kitchen floor. Your silence was only turning him on more - he had no idea what to say, and felt at your mercy in that very moment - an unusual feeling for someone who was the dominant one in most scenarios. You stand back up after scraping together most of the popcorn. You stand slowly, looking Johnny up and down as you do, pausing to focus on how the veins in his arms have started to show - a tell-tale sign that he must be horny for you, despite not talking to you all week.

“So?” you ask him, a stubborn and demanding tone in your voice. You’re still pissed off - he literally hasn’t spoken to you about anything, leaving you in the dark about what the plan was and forcing you to seek comfort in Jae because he wasn’t there to hang out while you’d been stressed. Anyway, fuck all of that, you think to yourself. You firmly place the popcorn tub onto the countertop next to you and cock your head slightly, looking at Johnny’s face this time, but avoiding eye contact.

“So, are you going to like… tell me what’s going on?” you ask, frustrated now, trying to hide your emotional vulnerability by holding yourself in a powerful stance, sitting into your hip and casually leaning back into the countertop. You know you look fit, and Johnny knows it, too.

He sighs, now too turned on to even play his little game of piss y/n enough to get her to start the conversation first. He practically launches himself on you, keeping you pressed against the counter top and using his knee to hold your torso firmly in place. He locks his hand into yours and holds it firmly, too. You’re suddenly well and truly held down by John Suh, at his complete mercy and most-definitely not able to escape from his grasp.

“Y/n, Ten’s in my room literally right now. We’ve been waiting for you to break the silence because we thought you were the one mad with us. We thought you didn’t want to talk to us, so, we just sort of left you some space... for a bit...”. His voice is low, frustrated and tense.

Why was he being like this? He sounds genuinely annoyed, yet he’s acting like he wants to fuck me right here? And why’s he being so touchy?

“John, I’m literally pissed that you’ve been ignoring me. How are we never on the same page?”

Johnny doesn’t even reply, and you don’t really care. Stood over you, he’s one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever laid eyes on - you never fail to forget this. His hair is falling slightly over his eyes, textured and dark, complimenting the deep brown colour of his irises. His muscle tee reveals his broad shoulders, dressed in a bold, dark tattoo on one side. Nothing about Johnny Suh screams “innocence”. He is dark, intense, experienced, and always ready to show you a good time.

“What I mean, y/n, is that Ten’s waiting for me in my room”.

Oh.

“No problem, Johnny, I’ll be alright down here” you tell him, your voice tight, wondering whether this was an invitation to follow him, or a request for him to leave.

“No, y/n. Come on”. Johnny’s eyes are dark and serious, as they so often are when he’s turned on. You’re suddenly hyper aware that you’re in

a communal space - Jae could easily be slumped in the corner of the room, listening to the tension between you two as he so-often was - but you still don’t want to make nice with Johnny, so you shake him off you and somewhat stomp your way to his room, the man following you closely and quickly.

You barge open his door, pushing your weight onto it, and sitting in a leather armchair, leaning out of the window, is Ten. Shirtless. Oh shit, he’s hot.

“Oh, y/n, sorry fuck- hi” Ten sputters, reaching for something to cover himself up and eventually just wrapping his arms around his torso.

“Baby, you still up for trying this?” Johnny asks. Both you and Ten respond quietly and quickly with a tentative “yes”. .

“Hah, I was talking to Ten, but sure y/n I know you’re okay with it”, responds Johnny sassily, walking past you towards Ten. “Hot”, he assesses, looking at Ten just as he’d looked at you earlier.

Knowing that Johnny was checking him out like that turned Ten on, his cock growing harder under his lazy cargo pants. He hadn’t long been at the gym with Jae and Haechan, and the post work-out effect had left him slightly tired but, visually, incredibly attractive. His abs were tight and defined, even as he was leant over the window frame.

“Heard Ten was really good at fingering when he was dating that girl in first year. Not to make this weird or anything”.

Neither you nor Ten replies to this. So like, does Ten actually want this? I don’t get it, you think to yourself. And, honestly, you don’t know that Ten is only really doing this for Johnny. In the moment, he seems pretty damn into you. He stands tall, despite being the same height as you, shirtless with his hair slightly wet from just having showered, carrying the scent of sandalwood and sweet floral undertones. He moves towards you, and your heart pounds, your hands trembling slightly as you become hot and wet for him... Confidently, the man sits on the edge of the bed, a slightly playful and teasing smile spreading across his lips, and he pulls you by your arm so you end up falling next to him. You’re surprised by the sudden action, causing your heart to race faster.

“Mm, he’s right, you know, I’m pretty fucking good in bed” Ten teases you. You and Ten locked eyes as he placed his hand around your waist and pulled you close to him. He wasn’t sure about this, but he felt a compelling urge to kiss you. Ten feels Johnny place his hand on his thigh, squeezing gently, and it gives him the confidence he needs to lean in, chasing for your sweet, tender lips.

As Ten’s lips meet yours, you feel your heart murmuring, beating like it never has before. You take his kiss deep - although it feels sexual and intense, as opposed to passionate and loving. His tongue is greedy, chasing for yours and playing with your lips with gentle nips every so often. Johnny stands behind Ten, softly playing with his long hair, almost reassuring him. You feel Ten move his hands from your waist down to your thigh.

“Well, aren’t you two both such needy and horny, little things” Johnny teases, his voice dark and dominant. “Ten, honey, you know you don’t have to fuck her tonight, but she seems to want more than just a sweet kiss from you”.

Disappointing. Of course you didn’t expect that Ten would actually go all the way with you - although he has been with many girls in the past, you guess he just doesn’t actually enjoy that. But you can feel his fingers dancing up your thigh, altering their pressure as they skip across your crotch, brushing with gentle pressure over the crotch of your trousers and making their way to your opposite thigh. He is so careful and coordinated with his touch, different to Johnny - more thought-out, almost. Johnny bends down closer to Ten and kisses the back of his neck, whispering to him with a firm tone; “Ten, you need to be rough with her, she’s a dirty slut. You need to rip her panties off and fill her with your fingers and -”. You stop listening to Johnny’s instructions, becoming distracted by your growing wetness, pulsating as you feel the blood rush through your body. All you can feel is how Ten pushes you down onto your back, moving on top of you so he has full access to your delicate, glistening folds. As he does so, Johnny follows, teasing Ten’s upper thighs but not yet removing his cargo pants. “Ten, pleaasee” you beg, slightly moaning when you feel his slightly cold hands work at the button of your trousers, pulling them down awkwardly. You arch your back at the cold, slightly ticklish sensation. The arching is enough to grab Johnny’s attention - “damn, babygirl you’re sensitive tonight, does our slut need more attention?”. You whine in frustration, arching your back again to allow ten to remove your trousers all the way. As Ten does so, Johnny leans over him from behind and grabs his pants and pulls them down - he’s commando, so Johnny immediately grabs his hard, throbbing cock, releasing a moan from the man who is largely preoccupied with you, teasing your clit at a constant, steady pace. Johnny slowly pumps up and down Ten’s cock. “Listen, sweet baby, I want you to make y/n come all over us. I’m going to do to you what I want you to do to her - follow my lead, and you’ll make her come”. You heard that part - fuck, i just want to come, you think to yourself.

Johnny cocks his head. “Sound okay, babies?” he asks you both, receiving two half-confident moans in response. He’s definitely in charge of you both.

Johnny tightens his grip on Ten, prompting him to slip two fingers immediately inside of you, taking you deep without a second thought. It was intense, but so necessary. You respond with a sharp intake of breath, once again arching your back. When Johnny speeds up his movements around Ten’s pulsating member, Ten quickens his pace with you. He’s moving his fingers in and out of you at a rushed pace, desperate to bring you to orgasm. Ten was genuinely horny, enjoying playing with you and chasing your upcoming orgasm, and although he had some limits, this wasn’t beyond his boundaries. He was so incredibly attracted to you. Your little, desperate breaths quicken, becoming deeper and longer as Johnny tightens his grip further, slowing down on Ten’s cock, and Ten responds in the same manner. He begins to slowly, but deeply, insert his fingers inside of you, pushing deep and steadily against your G spot.

“She’s actually so beautiful” Ten mutters quietly and breathlessly. Johnny responds, once again quickening his pace on Ten’s cock, planting kisses along his shoulders. This encourages Ten to quicken his pace, using the “come here” motion to hit your g-spot successfully with every repetition he makes. “And she’s such a slut” Ten adds, as you now whine quietly, high-pitched moans leaving you every time he hits your g-spot. He places his lips on yours, swallowing your moans with his deep, warm kiss. His lips are sweet and slightly swollen, making them gentle and exciting enough to continue kissing him, despite how close you were to your oblivion, and how distracting Ten’s fingers were. Johnny finally releases Ten after edging him for way too long - but doesn’t let Ten come just yet. Ten takes this as his cue to focus purely on you, tipping you over the edge. You’re moaning deliriously as Ten slips in a third finger and, with his other hand, wraps around your ass, playing with your sensitive skin around the entrance. Ten’s very good at this - he presses a thumb against your ass, gently but with enough pressure to change the sensation deep inside of you. You feel your pussy tightening, grabbing onto Ten’s slender fingers as he continues desperately chasing your orgasm, waiting patiently for his own. But Johnny is becoming fed up of waiting, so he drops his own pants and presents his cock in front of your mouth. “Work for your orgasm. Be my cumslut” Johnny demands strictly. You take his cock as deep as you can, feeling your pussy tighten as Ten drives you closer to orgasm. You suck Johnny deep and hard, using your tongue how you know he likes it. The sight of Johnny’s cock, dripping and filling your mouth, drives Ten insane. He isn’t even being pleasured, but he, too, feels so close to his orgasm, dripping presum from his tip. You’re still panting and moaning into Johnny’s cock when you finally reach your orgasm. Ten reaches one hand from your ass to Johnny’s, again pressing his finger into Johnny enough to send him over the edge. He explodes into your mouth, causing you to gag and splutter as you immediately come over Ten’s fingers. Your eyes stream with tears as the intensity of your orgasm sweeps through your body, weakening you head-to-toe.

“Y/n, you’re not finished, baby” says Johnny, standing. “Y/n, suck Ten’s cock while I fuck him good”, he tells you. And you do exactly what he says. Johnny is so gentle with Ten - so tender and loving. You can see now, despite your mouth being stuffed with Ten’s dripping, pulsating cock, that the love between these two is different. It’s intense, it’s passionate, it’s inherently sexual but yet so nurturing and tender. What you have with Johnny is fun - but you know you were friends first, friends now, and will always be friends. But you also know that this might be the last time you fuck John Suh as your boyfriend, and you didn’t even actually end up fucking him. The thought saddens you, but it passes quickly as you continue to pleasure Ten whilst sat on your knees. It doesn’t take long before you release him, and he lets his come spill out over your swollen breasts. Just a few moments later, Johnny follows, adding his cum to the sticky mess dripping on you. Johnny leans over you to kiss Ten - and in this kiss, there is so much love. You realise that he has chosen Ten in his moment of vulnerability, not you. But lying there, barely awake and covered in their come, you don’t mind. Ten flashes you a sexy smile as he kisses your belly, covered in Johnny’s come. Johnny pleasures your nipples, cleaning them up with his swollen lips before leaning down to kiss you, and moving back to kiss Ten, forcing him to taste his own mess. “Okok”, you say quickly. “I’m going to wash up in the bathroom”.

Your back is aching, you’re covered in come, and your whole body is weak and trembling from the intensity of working so hard for these two men. And Johnny was right - Ten was very good in bed. But you expected nothing less of the man who is good at everything.

Within 15 minutes, the three of you were asleep in the bed together. And within a few hours, you woke up, noticed how Ten wrapped his leg over Johnny’s, and how Johnny held his arm out for you to lean into. Feeling disgusting and tired, your heart sort of aching, you decided to slip back into your own room. You know you have to leave.

Thanks for reading! I’m sorry I didn’t go into full angst detail about the end of the *situation*. There will be a short follow-up sequel, mostly just angst, that will deal with the end of the relationship, just so this story doesn’t end up with no proper resolution. I hope you enjoyed how the situation unfolded, but more importantly - I hope you enjoyed the smut. I’ll be releasing follow-ups set in the NCIT frat house in the future, so please follow and interact!

~tenskittens~

[wonder-kid-pugh]

Wildest Dream - Jessie Fleming

Inspiration for this was the the song - Wildest Dream by Thomas Gold, Kosling and Matthew Steeper and I highly recommend listening to it while reading this I suppose. Also warning this is very long so be prepared. Hope you enjoy!!!

"Y/n! C'mon!"

The small 7 year stops running and hunches over hands on her knees panting heavily as she watches her best friend run in front of her. The small freckled faced girl stops running as she turns back to her tired friend, "Keep up Y/n!"

But the girl just shakes her head still gasping for breath, "That's not fair Jessie! Your too fast for me!" The girl just frowns as she sees her friend was not a bit out of breath, "How come your not tired?" Jessie just shrugs with a big smile, "C'mon let's go play!" The child with no other choice sighs as she chases after her friend who starts kicking the ball towards the goal.

Normally the child wasn't one for soccer. Sure she played it but that was only really because of Jessie. She played soccer because Jessie loved soccer and she would do anything for her best friend. Just how Jessie would always listen to Y/n play music even though she could barely play the triangle.

Their parents found it comically how the two got along. The two children couldn't have been more different yet they were the best of friends. Jessie was always active and running around outside and loved sports. Y/n on the other hand was the opposite. She preferred to stay inside and always had a thing for music. While she did like playing games, she definitely didn't love it as much as Jessie.

Honestly her parents think she wouldn't leave the house if it wasn't for Jessie.

But the girls were inseparable. You wouldn't find one without the other. Which is why when Jessie said she wanted to go play soccer, of course Y/n said yes.

"Y/n/n! Watch this!" Jessie screws her face up in concentration as she tries to juggle the ball just like how she's seen her favourite players have done it countless times on the TV. But she can only do it 6 times before the 7 year old loses control of the ball. While the small child pouted at the ball which rolls away from her, she isn't deterred as her best friend is clapping for her. "Woah that's so cool Jessie!" Y/n says in awe. Jessie smiles and straightens up as she picks up the ball happy to impress her friend but can't help but blush at the praise, "Thanks! I want to be a soccer player like the ones on the TV!"

At the bare age of 7, the small girl couldn't understand why when she said this to some adults  they would just chuckle and smile at her. She had even been told by some of the boys in her class that soccer is a boy's sport. But Jessie didn't care she just wanted to play soccer. She didn't know why people thought it was an impossible dream for her. Like her dad always told her, you should dream big or else what's the point of dreaming?

"That's so cool. When your a big famous soccer player, I'll come and watch all your games!" Y/n says giving her a toothy grin. Jessie nods returning her smile, "Yeah. And I'll score a goal for you".

"What do you want to be when we're older?" Jessie asks. Y/n plays with her hands and shrugs, "I don't know...". The junior soccer player tilts her head and thinks for a second before she perks up, "You could play music! You always make some cool sounds when we play!" The other girl thinks for a second before she smiles and nods, "Yeah that would be cool".

Jessie smiles before holding up her pinkie to her best friend, "Let's make a promise". Y/n tilts her head at her before Jessie continues, "Let's promise that when we grow up, we'll follow our wildest dreams!" The musician beams back at her and intertwine their pinkies locking in the promise, "Promise!"

The two 7 years stood there full of hopes and dreams for their future. Neither knowing much better as their innocence still protected them from the world. But neither cared. Because they had each other and they believed in each other. And because of that they felt like they could do anything.

***

The now two 15 year olds walk home from school. Even after all these years the two girls still best friends. Their promise still remaining fully intact. They always came home a little later after school. Whether it be because Jessie had soccer practice or Y/n lost time playing in the music room. But the two never failed to walk home together. One always waiting for the other to be finished.

"I don't get you" Jessie sighs as she shoulders her bag up higher. The musician of the two looks at her weirdly, "What are you talking about?" Jessie sighs once more, "Why won't you sign up for that talent show?" Now it's her turn to sigh as Y/n runs a hand through her hair tiredly, "Can you please just drop it Jess?"

But Jessie doesn't let up, "No I don't understand Y/n why you won't sign up! Your incredible when it comes to music. You can play almost any instrument I can name! You could win that talent show easily so why won't you sign up?!"

Y/n avoided her friend's gaze. She knew she meant well. Jessie was her best friend of course she only wanted the best for her. But Y/n had been keeping a secret. From everyone. Even Jessie. But it didn't mean that Jessie hadn't noticed. Jessie knew there was something up with the girl. She never wanted to show off her music. She had an incredible talent but refused to show it off. It was like she had stage fright but not really. She never had a problem playing for Jessie but when it came to anyone else she wouldn't even pick up an instrument.

What Jessie didn't know is that things hadn't been good at home for the musician. The musician tried to stay at Jessie's for as long as possible. But eventually she had to go home. Only to come home to a screaming match between her parents. They were always arguing about something or other that Y/n had just gotten use to the screaming and the occasional sound of smashing plates. 

The only time they seemed to agree on something was when they both agree that her music is a complete waste of time.

Y/n had to suffer quietly as she didn't want anyone to know. She had grown use to her parents ignoring her existence. She had gotten use to the disappointment. She had gotten use to that when her parent finally did give her attention it was for all the wrong reasons. She had to live with the fact that the very people who were meant to encourage her and care for her, did the exact opposite.

So when her parents tell her that music is a waste of time and should give it up. There was only so many times she could hear it before it started becoming true in her mind. As her parents always told her, where would music get her in life? Would it pay her bills in the future? Would it bring her success? Would it make her any money?

What it did give her was purpose

But her parents didn't care. They had drilled it into her so much that it was ingrained into her. Nothing good was going to come from music so what was the point in trying?

Jessie had caught the brief flash if sadness across her best friend's face. It was so quick that if she hadn't been watching she wouldn't of caught it. "Y/n..." She starts but she doesn't get to finish as Y/n seems to speed up and hurries into the Fleming household before her. Intent on finding out what's wrong with her friend she chases after her determined on helping her friend. She sees Y/n already halfway up the stairs and starts to climb after her throwing a quick call over her shoulder to notify her parents that they were home.

But before she could make it so much as 3 steps her mom's voice rings throughout the house, "Jessie! Y/n! Can you come here quickly!" This makes the two girls pause looking at each other questioningly. But they both comply and move to the sitting room where everyone else was.

"Yeah Mom?" Jessie asks as the two friends stand beside each other ready to step in at a moment's notice in case one needs to step in to comfort the other. The two parents share a look which worries the girl but they completely miss the smiles from the other kids in the room. What didn't go unnoticed by everyone was the fact that Y/n's finger went to wrap around Jessie's pinkie before the soccer player held her hand properly squeezing it lightly for reassurance.

The two adults in the room smile softly at the action before remembering what they called them down for in the first place. "We got a call from canwnt.." her mom starts. Jessie tilts her head, "Oh is there another camp on?" Her father smiles down at her, "Yes but this camp is going to be a bit different". Jessie looks at the two clearly confused. Apon seeing this Y/n steps closer to her friend this time it was her giving the reassuring squeeze.

"What do you mean?" Jessie asks. Once more the parents share a smile but before they could tell her, her little sister beat them too it. "You got called up to the national team!" Elysse sequels. The two friends freeze for a second before Jessie looks to her parents for confirmation. But they just smile and nod. "I got called up....to the senior team?" Jessie whispers lowly as if to see how it sounds coming out of her mouth.

But it was only a minute after that it truly hit her

"I got called up!?!" She yells before launching herself towards her parents to hug her fiercely. Y/n stands back as she watches the family celebrate the fact that one of their member's Wildest Dream are coming true. She watches how her brother and sister join in the embrace as they tell her how proud they are of her achieving her dream. They all knew how hard she worked to get here and it was truly incredible that she achieved this at such a young age.

But what did they expect from the overachiever that was Jessie Fleming

Although she was immensely proud and happy for her best friend. Y/n couldn't help the tiny bit of bitterness followed by guilt that crept up on her. She could felt but felt bitter as she watches her practically second family celebrate Jessie's dreams. Their family had always supported Jessie's passion in the pursuit of soccer even when others thought she was aiming too high. They were always there to encourage her and was always cheering for her at every one of her games.

Y/n wished her own family was like that. That her parents were supportive of her own dreams. Instead of shouting abuse at each other and only give her attention when she didn't meet their standards.

But she quickly pushed it down as Jessie turned to her and practically tackled her in a hug. Y/n hugs her back just as tight as she nuzzles herself into Jessie's neck, "I knew you could do it Jess! I'm so proud of you". Jessie gives her a tight squeeze before pulling back just enough so she can look at her friend's face, "Now all you have to do is fulfill your part of the promise!"

It took ever bit of willpower to make sure her smile didn't falter in front of her. Her problems were her own and she didn't need to drag Jessie into them especially on what is supposed to be such a joyous celebration for the teen. So instead she held face in front of her best friend and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah I do"

***

"Y/n?"

The girl hums telling her that she's listening even though her eyes remain fixed on the guitar. Jessie bites her lip wondering how best to approach this without saying the wrong thing. But eventually she sighs as she looks softly at the girl she had grown feelings for.

"Why do you only play for me?"

Y/n picks her head up as her eyes lock with Jessie's. The brunette not knowing how heavy the question she asked truly is.

The two were now both 17 and both harbouring feelings for the other not that they would ever admit that to the other. Jessie had been with the national team for a while now and preparing to go to college next year....in America. While Y/n didn't know what she was going to do. But the thought of them two being separated hurt the both of them.

But Y/n had still not fulfilled her half of the promise.

But she did go to nearly every one of Jessie's matches. And Jessie would swear that even among the thousands of fans, she could always hear Y/n cheering above anyone else. It was only after Jessie's first cap with the national team did she realise that she had fallen for her best friend as she saw the musician with her family in the stands wearing her jersey.

The two had something that was untouchable by anyone else. It was unbreakable. But neither wanted to ruin it in fear of the other not feeling the same. So things remained the same.

Expect for Y/n

Jessie could see the gradually change in the girl. If it was even possible, the girl retracted into herself even more than she always was. Many didn't notice as the girl had always been on the quiet side and had tended to keep to herself and maybe a handful of friends.

But Jessie did.

Jessie saw how that light twinkle in her eyes faded. She watched as her friend lost the sparkle in her eyes. Her smile didn't seem as big. Her eyes lost their light. The fire the girl once had been extinguished. It was only when they were 16 did Jessie find out why.

When the girl showed up to her house in the middle of the night in tears and a bruise starting to form on her cheek did Jessie find out about what her friend had been keeping from her. How her parents had been arguing for so long that she had practically become desensitizied by it. How she would go for weeks on end without the slightest bit of acknowledgment from her parents.

But that night was the last straw

Y/n was finally sick of all the shouting and yelling and arguing. And when she make that known to her parents, in a fit of rage her father hit her. That was the breaking point of their family. By the time Jessie's parents got to the house her father was already gone and they hadn't heard from him since.

And while the arguing had stopped, nothing had changed between the mother and daughter. Y/n's mother was hardly home and the family only had small interactions between each other. And those small interactions included telling Y/n that she needs to focus on her future and not silly music. Jessie had slowly been coaxing her out and back to her normal self but it was a slow process.

And she still refused to play for anyone else other than Jessie.

"W-why do you ask?" Y/n whispered softly. Jessie watched as the musician fiddled with the neck of her guitar. "You never play for anyone but me. You even record stuff for me when I'm away for camps and make me playlists. But never for anyone else. Why?" Jessie asks softly.

Y/n licked her lips trying to decide how to tell her without saying it's because she felt safest with her. That she could trust her with anything. Because she was her best friend. Because she loved her.

"Because....your the only one that would like it" the musician admits quietly. Jessie scrunches up her face, "What?" But Y/n just shrugs, "No one would like it anyways so why even bother". Jessie just stared incredulously at her crush not understanding why the girl could possibly think that. "Y/n...your the most talented person I've ever heard. When you play, it's like the whole world stops to listen to you play. You are the greatest musician I've ever heard".

But Jessie is even more confused when she just shakes her head with traces of tears in her eyes. "Please don't Jess..." She whispers. Jessie tilts her head at her, "Don't what?" Y/n sniffles, "Don't lie. Your just saying that cause your my best friend". Jessie stares at her for a second as she scoots closer to her.

"Your right"

Y/n's head snaps up only to find Jessie staring at her determinedly. It doesn't even register to either of them how close they really are as they are only focused on the other. "Your right I am saying this because your my best friend. And as your best friend I'm telling you the truth that by hiding your music from everyone, you are robbing the world of your talent. And whoever thinks otherwise doesn't deserve you in their life".

Y/n sighs as she looks away, "My parents think it's a waste of time. That it's not going to take me far in the future". Jessie's heart break hearing her friend sound so defeated. Jessie absentmindedly brushes some hair behind Y/n's ear as she states straight into her eyes. "You shouldn't give up on your dream so easily" Jessie whispers, "Do you remember the promise we made back when we were younger?"

A small smile spreads across her face as the musician thinks back to simpler times back when she had no worries at all and nods. Jessie smiles, "Then you'll remember we promised to follow our dreams together". Jessie moves to intertwine their fingers, "I believe in you Y/n/n and I always will. No matter what everyone else thinks".

And just like that it was as if the dam broke.

The years of bottled up emotions, all the secret family problems she kept hidden, all her insecurities. Everything she kept locked up and away from prying eyes came flooding out. All with that one declaration. All because she knew she had her best friend and crush there with her and because she believed in her. She didn't need anything else but her. In that moment she didn't care that her father left her, she didn't care he had another family without her, she didn't care that her mother was never there for her or that she deemed work more important than her own daughter.

Because she had Jessie

The dam broke, her walls fell, everything came crashing down. But Jessie was there and she caught her. She took her in her arms and held her. Jessie acted as her defence and protected her from the rest of the world reassuring her that she was there for her. And after what seemed like hours of crying which was only half an hour in reality her sobs subsided enough for her to turn to Jessie.

"Jessie?" Jessie just looked down at her showing her she was listening. Her grip on Jessie's t-shirt tightened as she moved in closer to her as she leaned into her chest, "Please don't leave me as well. Please don't forget about me when you go to America...promise me".

Jessie didn't even need to hesitate she just shakes her head, "Never. Your my person Y/n. No one could ever replace you. It's always going to be you and me. Always".

And just like that Y/n never felt more safe and secure. And if at all possible Y/n felt as if she fell more in love with the soccer player.

***

Jessie took a slug of water as she looked through the crowded stadium. They were just after beating Utah 2-1. And with a great performance by the team and herself, Jessie was happy with the win.

But she felt almost euphoric when her eyes locked on a familiar figure in the stand.

"No way!" Jessie gasps lightly causing her teammates to look at her. But before her teammates could even ask, the Canadian was already running towards the stands, running towards someone specific.

Even though she was hidden behind a baseball cap and sunglasses, Jessie could pick her out anywhere. Honestly Jessie didn't even care when she jumped up and pulled herself up to the stand. The musician laughs as she holds Jessie making sure she doesn't fall or slip off the tiny foothold she was balancing on, "Jessie!" But Jessie just throws her arms around her best friend, "You didn't tell me you were in LA!"

But Y/n just hugs her back and nuzzles her have into the girl's neck, "Well I made a promise to watch all your matches". Jessie couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face as she just hugged the girl tighter. Both ignored all the eyes on them as people tried to figure out who was the girl with Jessie Fleming.

It had been a while since the two friends had seen each other. Jessie being busy between school and soccer. And while Y/n didn't go to college she finally took Jessie's advice and finally started releasing music. Her music went viral overnight. Within days everyone knew of the new up and coming DJ Y/n L/n. But with the fame of being the latest rising star in the music industry it also came with a strict schedule.

It didn't help that she couldn't leave her house to get a coffee without it being in the paper that she's sneaking away to meet up for a secret rendezvous with some hidden lover.

But it didn't mean that she didn't watch every single one of Jessie's matches.

"You should go. Your team is waiting for you" she murmurs into the column of Jessie's neck. But Jessie in response to this just tightened her hold. Y/n smiles knowing that her best friend missed her just as much she missed her, "Look I have a show later. How about you and the team come and we can meet up after?"

Jessie takes a second before nodding, "Okay". Y/n smiles moving her nose up and down on the small patch of skin before her ear before she taps her hip, "You better go Jess. And go shower. You stink". The soccer player scoffs slapping her on the shoulder, "Shut up". The musician chuckles, "I'll text you in a bit". "Okay" Jessie nods. And in a moment of courage she quickly and discreetly kissed her cheek before she carefully climbs down from the barrier.

Y/n can't help the blush as her eyes follow Jessie as she jogs back to her teammates immediately being brought into questioning no doubt about her. Not wanting to wait around and risk being recognised she decided to leave the stadium. Y/n grins as she walks out of the stadium among the crowds. Besides she had a show to prepare for.

And a girl to impress

***

"Jessie how did you get us in?" Ashley asks as the team moves deeper into the club. Jessie smirks as she shrugs. The team had been badgering her all evening wanting to know who was the person she was talking to. They were even more surprises when she suggested they go out tonight. To this particular club. This was unusual for the quiet Canadian who they usually have to drag out of he dorms for a night out.

And here she was, getting them into a club for a sold out gig.

"Seriously Jess how did you get us in here?" Teagan asks. But before Jessie could even open her mouth the gig was about to begin, "Everyone! Please give it up for Y/DJ/n!" The team all stared at her with slacked jaws while the London native smiles widely and clapped as her childhood friend bounced onto the stage. 

Jessie loved seeing her on stage. Her friend looked so free up on stage. It's like all her worries melted away. She had seen Y/n grow in the past few years. She completely detached herself from her family and throw herself into music. Starting small and working her way up. She started on YouTube but was quickly picked up. And ever since then it's been hit after hit for her. But whenever she was on stage, she was always having fun. The smile never left her face as she was always bouncing around having fun.

The show went off without a hitch. Y/n went through all her favourite songs. Along with playing her own remix of UCLA which Jessie most definitely knew was a nod at her and her teammates. She finished the night by playing the song that started it all. The very first song with blew up on YouTube. The song that made her famous around the world. Ironically a song that was made around the promise she made to Jessie all those years ago about following their wildest dreams. A song that Jessie didn't know was inspired by her back when they sat together that day. Back to that day at age 17 when Y/n discovered she was in love with her best friend.

The team could have swore they saw the DJ send a wink in their direction. But thought nothing of it as they kept dancing. It was only when the show had ended and they were about to leave only to be stopped by a guard did they start to question everything. They were lead backstage into a separate room with the only instruction from the big bulky security guard being "Wait here" before closing the door behind them. Ashley blinked at the closed door as she sighs, "Well that wasn't suspicious at all". The team nods but Jessie just grins and moves towards the snacks laid out on the table knowing there would be chocolate covered strawberries there. Even though Y/n didn't really like strawberries, she always made sure they had them in her dressing room for Jessie knowing how much her best friend loved them.

As Jessie started helping herself to the treats at the table her teammates looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Uh should you be going at the food Jess?" Anika asks as she watches the Canadian take another bite out of a strawberry. Before she could answer though someone beat her too it.

"Well I did get them for her..."

The entire team watched as the DJ strides into the room. Her face slightly flushed and a light layer of sweat as she dabbed at it with a towel. The team look at her gobsmacked while Jessie smiles and walks over to her enveloping her in a hug. "Hey Rockstar great show" Jessie says as her arms wrap around the musicians waist. Y/n throws her head back with a laugh as her arms wrap around her shoulders as they start to sway lightly, "Thanks Superstar".

But of course their moment was interrupted

"Woah woah woah hang on a second here!" Teagan exclaims causing the two to break apart. The goalkeeper points between the two, "You know each other?" Jessie just scrunches her face as she looks at her teammates confused faces, "Of course I know her. You guys knew that, I talk about her all the time". Karina scoffs, "We didn't know you were talking about the Y/n L/n!" Y/n watches with an amused smile present on her face as she watched her friend guffhaws at her friends throwing her hands up, "I literally have a picture of us on my desk!"

It was true. She never hid her friendship with the rising music star. She had multiple picture of the two in her room. Hell her phone screen was a picture of the two of them together.

"Just when you think you can't get cooler...you know a famous celebrity" Sunny mumble causing everyone to laugh. It's only when the laughter dies down that Y/n realises that everyone is now looking at her. She sheepishly scratches the back of her head, "Uh it's nice to meet you all. Jessie speaks very highly of you all". The team smile but it quickly turns to a smirk as they all see Jessie slip her hand into hers and they see the musician visibly calm down sending a smile to their teammate.

As they hung out it became painful clear that the two were harbouring feelings for the other but neither wanted to talk about it. The team found it amusing how comfortable she was with the musician. They watched as Jessie was splayed out across the couch, head resting on Y/n's lap as the musician mindlessly ran her fingers through her soft brown strands. It didn't help that they spotted the red number 17 Canadian jersey under the musicians flannel shirt. They had never seen their Canadian teammate so comfortable with someone like this before. So as it started to get late they decided to head off. Not only to get some rest but to also allow the two some much need alone time together.

The pair sat silently in bliss as Jessie closed her eyes focusing on how soft and delicate Y/n was while running her hand through her hair. "Thank you for coming tonight" Y/n whispers softly almost sacred to break the peaceful atmosphere between the two of them. Jessie just opens her eyes and intertwines her fingers with Y/n's other hand, "Of course. I love seeing you play. Even though I prefer when you play guitar". The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, "That's special. That's for only you. I don't mind everyone listening to my other stuff. But I only play the guitar for you".

The overnight sensation looked down to see that a small faint blush had tinted Jessie's cheeks. Without even thinking her hand moves from her hair to cup her cheek as her thumb grazed her cheekbone. She only snapped out of it when she saw that Jessie's face had now turned fully red leaving her to resemble a tomato. She was about to pull her hand away not wanting to make the girl uncomfortable but stopped when Jessie instead leaning into her hand.

As Y/n stared down at the soccer player, something just surged through her. It was like everything just clicked as she took a deep breath, "There's something I have to tell you". This catches Jessie's attention as she squeezes the other girl's hand, "What is it?"

Y/n picks her lips trying to figure out best how to tell her, "Have I ever told you where the inspiration for "Wildest Dreams" came from?" Jessie thinks for a second before shaking her head. Y/n hesitates for a second wondering if it was too late to turn back now, the fear starting to crept back in. Jessie sees this and sits up so she can look at her properly, "Y/n?" Y/n sighs running her hand through her hair, "Well it was about the promise we made when we were younger and then back when we were 17 when you said I shouldn't give up on my music. It was a really important day for me".

Y/n takes a deep breath stopping herself from rambling as she mentally scolds herself. Why was this so hard? It was only when Jessie moved a stray strand of hair behind her ear and gave her hand a squeeze did she look back at her. "Are you okay Y/n? You seem really distracted..." Jessie asks visibly concerned. Y/n just nods slowly, "Yeah...it's just I've been thinking about that promise we made lately. About how we would follow our dreams". Y/n looks directly into Jessie's brown chocolate orbs almost making Jessie forgot how to breathe, "Well there is something else I've been dreaming about for a while and I'm scared".

Jessie frowns wondering what could possibly be wrong with her best friend that has her this much out of it, "Why are you scared?" Y/n's eyes dart down at Jessie's lips for a split second before looking back up with a small fearful whisper, "Because I'm scared you'll hate me for it..." But Jessie barely let's her finish that sentence before she stares fiercely back at her, "I could never hate you".

Something broke between the two in that moment. This was the only reassurance Y/n needed before she started to close the already small gap between the two giving Jessie enough time to pull away in case. But that wasn't necessary as Jessie also leaned in as her hands latched onto her neck almost fearful that she would disappear soon after.

The kiss turned from shy and timid to deep and passionate, both trying to convey how long they have wanted this and wanting to make up for lost time. When they both pulled away they looked at each other trying to find any hint of doubt or regret in the other's face. But when they found none they both smiled brightly. Y/n pulling Jessie in closer so that her legs now laid across her lap causing Jessie to sequel only to be silenced by Y/n's lips meeting hers.

And to think that this all started with a promise to follow their dreams. Only to realise that they were each other's greatest dream.

[wandering-travesty]

Off To The Races

 Zeke’s life wasn’t supposed to be like this. His father would have a spontaneous brain aneurism if he saw the daily goings on of the younger Yeager’s household on his days off. Horrid amounts of smoking outside, snow or shine, day-drinking without a second thought, and lonely, not by choice. He had honest-to-god tried to live the life his father wanted for him. He married a woman straight out of law school and knocked her up a few months after. They raised that kid for a year then repeated the process. They lived, laughed, and loved for a few years, then, as a surprise to no one, the divorce came along. His wife had run off with a lump sum of money and started a new life out of state. He got left with two kids, substance abuse issues, and a law firm to run. He was stressed, depressed, and by the holiest powers above, was he horny. 

 Ignoring the horniness for a moment, everything changed when you came around. Every inch of his world brightened, almost like a light at the end of a tunnel. You gave him some form of hope, and reminded him that life wasn’t all doom and gloom. You were still in college, looking for some extra funds to help pay your tuition; a lawyer that doubled as a father of two was the perfect target. You had shown up in your prettiest outfit, almost as if you were showing off for him. Being the kind of man he was, Zeke couldn’t help but hire you. Some sweet, fetching little thing coming up to his decadent doorstep in a tiny little tennis skirt and begging to take care of his kids? That was something he could never turn away. 

 So, you became the official caretaker of Zeke’s little angels. You truly adored looking after them while their, admittedly handsome, father slaved away at his big, important law firm. You rang the doorbell right as the kids were waking up, Zeke greeting you at the door already dressed in one of his repulsively expensive suits. You talked over scones and coffee and made the kids just about anything they wanted. He would leave, and you would get the kids dressed and out the door with ample time to catch the bus. You’d clean the house, make yourself some lunch, play with the family dog. The golden retriever was just another cliche. But you still loved the mutt, especially since every family member loved him, too. You could tell because Zeke had named him after some long-dead baseball player, meaning he would be enamoured with the thing no matter what.  

 It was fun, picking up on little details about Zeke, or Mr. Yeager, as you called him. He loved baseball and would talk about it for hours on end if you let him, and he hated strawberry icecream for some unexplained reason. He was the face of success for his entire life, from being a star pitcher on his little league team back home to captain of the debate team in high school; he had never really failed at anything or gotten robbed of what he wanted. He was a winner in everything he had ever tried. He had mentioned how high-strung his parents were, and how they’d gone through a divorce of their own when he was young. He and his step-brother never got along that well, and had actually turned out to be very different people. His family life was anything but smooth, and he feared his kids would look back on their childhood in the same light. You guessed that’s why tonight was happening. 

 “Alright, I’m entrusting my children, dog, house, and painfully expensive belongings to you for the night.” He was dressed to the nines, hell, the tens. He wore an umber sport coat, mustard turtleneck sweater, a thick black belt, grey slacks, chestnut oxfords, and the most expensive golden watch you had ever seen. His flaxen hair shined perfectly in the low light of the entranceway; it was official: you wanted to fuck him. Rather, you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted him to fuck you stupid and make you squirt all over that pretty watch, and his even prettier face. 

 “I’ve got it covered, Mr. Yeager.” His youngest son wrapped his arms around your legs as the dog rubbed his head into your palm. “Knock ‘er dead!” You gave him your cheesiest smile and thumbs up. He chuckled at you as his eldest son grabbed your free hand. 

 “You’ve got this, Dad!” He cheered, starting to drag you to the living room. 

 “Thank you, Atticus. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gave a weak smile, turning to leave through the large oak door. It was awful, how badly he wanted to stay there with you and the kids. He wanted to chase Atticus down the hall as the rest of you ran after him, laughing all the way. He wanted to put on some old, boring movie only he wanted to watch and feel your breath on his neck as you fell asleep just after the kids and dog sitting on the floor below you. He wanted to feel your warmth in his bed. He wanted to see what you looked like backed up against a wall. Heaving after an especially passionate kiss. With your legs over your head, screaming his name. The sweat dripping down your face as you came undone beneath him. The little whimpers you’d make as he pulled out of you and cradled you in his arms. He wanted you, not this random woman off of some shitty dating site. He didn’t really want the booze, or the men, or the women, or the money, or the white picket fence, or his father’s approval; he just wanted - no - he needed you. Your game of cat and mouse, seeing which playful “sweetheart” or coy little “Mr. Yeager” would be the one to tip you over the edge of more than friends.  

 “Zeke? That’s you, right?” The tall blonde woman in a sleek black suit walked towards him with an outstretched hand. She could’ve easily been a full foot taller than him. Interesting.

 “Yes. Yelena, correct?” But she wasn’t you. He just wanted to get this night of false wining and dining over with so he could come home to you. You in his big, expensive house. Better yet, his big, expensive bed.

 - 

 You sat and watched the clock after the kids went to bed. It ticked and tocked, back and forth, over and over. It had been about an hour since you’d put them down for the night. You couldn’t wait for Zeke to get home for much longer. Butterflies buzzed through your stomach when you heard the doorbell ring.

 “Mr. Yeager?” You opened the door to the sight of your employer with his shirt halfway unbuttoned, glasses falling off his face, and hair an absolute bird’s nest. 

 “Hey, beautiful.” He purred, slumping onto your shoulder, trying and failing to be smooth. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in my house, huh?” He looked up at you over the rim of his glasses. The way his eyes glimmered a dark shade of teal lit your entire body on fire. Feeling his full weight on top of you only made it spread farther.

 “Babysitting your kids, for starters.” You maneuvered your bodies to have his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you dragged him back into the house. “Apparently I’ll be babysitting you, too.” You mumbled, just then realizing exactly how muscular he was. You sat him down on the leather couch and started to walk to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. You didn’t have much experience with alcohol, but you believed water helped with it somehow.

 “Damn. Loving the view from back here, gorgeous.” He leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees, licking his chapped lips. You jumped at the sudden compliment. You couldn’t remember him being so…dirty before. You walked a little faster than you already were, wanting to get away from him before you made a stupid decision. You poured a tall glass of water, walking back to the couch where Zeke was now lounging, legs spread far enough to leave barely anything to the imagination.  

 “Hey there, doll. Got somethin’ for me?” He giggled, lowering his head from where he had been resting it. His eyes were something to behold, and the deep rooted confidence and downright cockiness behind them only served to make you shiver. You shuffled closer, a bit skittish at the sight of the beast before you. 

 “It’s just water.” You sat down on the table in front of him. “It’s supposed to help with your metabolism, I think.” Your voice was a higher pitch than usual, feeling an odd pressure in your throat every time you spoke.

 “What a smart little thing you are.” He praised. It felt genuine, and you started to feel hotter. You handed him the glass, trying your best to avoid eye contact. He took the glass, and almost as if he had sensed your intentions, took your chin between his fingers and forced you to look into his deep, ocean eyes. He leaned back a bit, giving you a better view of his exposed chest. There was a light layer of golden hair overtop of his expansive chest, and it seemed to trail down the rest of his body. You wanted to find out if that was true. Still holding eye contact with you, he tipped the glass and send the water spilling down his shirt. You knew that wasn’t just drunken clumsiness, but a calculated measure to get in your pants.

 “Whoops.” He said, eyes cold and emotionless as his words. “You better clean that up, sweetheart. We both know I can’t take care of myself in this state.” You moved closer to him, hands unsure of where they were going. You were shaking a bit, and you didn't have a towel on you. You decided the best course of action was to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. You felt down his chest, gently tugging on his nipples. He let out a soft groan as you continued to feel him up. 

 “You’re gettin’ a little handsy there, baby. You want something from me?” He pet your hair as you moved further down on his chest. You kissed and gave kitten licks, appreciating every inch and curve of his muscular form. You couldn’t get enough of him, try as you might.

 “I fuckin’ knew it.” He pulled you by your hair to force you to look at him.

 “Filthy little harlot.” He squeezed you cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You looked confused until you felt a glob of spit hit your tongue. You swallowed like it was second nature. 

 “You’re just here for my dick, huh?” You continued to kiss and lick down his abdomen, savoring every ounce of him you could; the smell of cinnamon, menthol, and saltwater hit your nose, intoxicating you further and further the more you breathed him in. “I bet it’s all you think about. Especially when those fingers rub that pretty little cunt until you cum all over yourself.” You let out a whine, signifying exactly how right he was.

 “Yeah.” You dragged your tongue up his six-pack, savoring the slightly salty taste. “Think about you every night.” You licked a stripe down the same line you had just gone up. “Only way I can get to sleep.” He smiled the warmest smile you had ever seen him produce. Such a sweet little thing for him, getting off to thoughts of him railing you silly in order to have a good night’s rest. Your submissive, horny mind was so focused on him you couldn’t get to bed without him. You were perfection in human form. Truly a goddess sent from above. He would worship you in the most degrading way possible.

 “I knew you were dirty, I just needed to force you to show me.” He continued to pet your hair like you were some kind of beloved family pet. You felt so small under his touch; so fragile, as if one touch could blow you away forever. You loved the feeling more than life itself. You felt like you could never live without it again. Touching yourself while thinking about him wouldn’t do the trick; not after you had felt the real thing.

 “That’s it, honey, kiss me like you mean it.” He teased, knowing exactly what was running through your head. Sure, he was no master of seduction, but he had bedded plenty before, and he knew exactly how talented he was. He had learned from years of experience; years you hadn’t yet lived. You would learn it all from him. Those little college boys he could smell on you every so often wouldn’t cut it anymore. He was meant for you, and you for him. He knew he already had you trapped, but playing with you was so fun. Poking and prodding and mocking you all while you worshiped him like he had hung the moon in the sky.

 “You love this body, don’t you, slut?” He pulled your hair suddenly, earning a yelp that went straight to his aching cock. “You know, I’ve only been keeping in shape for you. I knew from the moment you saw me that was the main appeal, and lord knows I’d go through hell to keep you around.” That was true. He knew others would settle for mediocrity, but a flawless little angel like you deserved better than mediocre. You needed someone to match your talent, beauty, and wit. He didn’t believe he equaled you in anything but maybe wits, but still, he was good for you. At least, you seemed to think so, considering you were giving tiny kitten licks to the tip of his recently freed dick. The tip was red, swollen, and leaking a sinful amount of precum. You sucked it all up, taking the engorged head between your plush lips. You felt like heaven, but the ache in your pussy felt like hell. You slowly began to go the full length down his cock. Zeke was right: you had messed around with college boys before, but none were as big as him. Your gag reflex wasn’t prepared, causing you to choke and sputter on it. Zeke grinned slyly.

 “Say my name, sweetie.” He wanted to treat you right, but it was so enjoyable to indulge his sadistic side.

 “Mr. Yeager.” You choked out. You knew how much he enjoyed that title; the feeling of authority it brought him made him hard as a rock every time. He groaned in pleasure, sending shivers down your spine. That knocked him off his rhythm for a moment, but he was right back on you the minute he regained some sense of self.

 “The kids are right upstairs, peacefully sleeping, while you choke on my dick like a dumb little slut.” The thought made you feel so dirty. You shifted on the ground, squeezing your thighs together and trying to get some friction. “And you do it so well, baby. I couldn’t ask for better.” He sighed.

 “That’s it, pretty girl, don’t hurt yourself down there.” He slowly pulled you off his cock by your hair. He didn’t want to admit it, and really didn’t show any signs, but you had him on the verge of cumming down your throat. But he didn’t want his precious seed there. Hell no! He wanted you stuffed to the brim and properly bred.

 “I’ve wanted you for so goddamn long, you don’t even know.” The look on tour face was something beyond pleasure or pain. It was a mix of both with a side of...fear? “What, scared of taking something this big, doll?” You shook your head.

 “Don’t worry, daddy’ll get you nice and wet for him.” He slowly came to hover over you, lifting you up and sitting you down on the couch. He spread your legs, undoing the button of your shorts with his long, thick fingers, bringing his mouth to your zipper and pulling it down with his teeth. He pulled them down your legs, bringing his face to your core. You felt hot on his mouth and nose. He licked a wet stripe up your clothed core,

 “God, you taste like honey, sweetie. I’m so fuckin’ lucky.” He pulled your panties to the side, relishing in the sight of your puffy pussy. You were beautiful in the murky yellow light of the room. You folds shimmered with slick and he could see your cunt clench around nothing, so obviously desperate for his dick. That’s right, his dick. Only his. From now on.

 He dove into you, savoring your tangy flavor. Pussy was a taste all its own, each having new, intense, rich tastes he could barely describe. To be perfectly honest, Zeke was a sucker for a wet little cunt in his mouth, and you were the perfect subject. Every suck to your clit, every kiss and lick to your folds, every darting flick of his tongue into your aching little hole; it had you moaning and whimpering like a ditzy little slut. Your mind was hazy with ecstasy.

 “Don’t get too loud now, dollface. Don’t wanna wake the kids now, do you?” His words brought you back to Earth, forcing you to remember you were being eaten out by a father of two. It felt so filthy to know you had been bringing up his kids, acting as a faux wife, and now you were being treated like one, eaten out of your mind and promised a thorough breeding.

 “Not that I don’t believe you would get off on being watched. I bet you love that idea, huh?” You jolted at the words and the sensation of another kiss to your cunt. “It might sound a little sick, but I could invite my brother over, see if he has as good a taste as mine.” He’d be willing to invite Eren over for a test run of…you? You knew they didn’t get along, so it was surprising, but that only turned you on even more. Imaging them fighting over you like hungry wolves on the hunt. They’d ravish you without even thinking. If this was Zeke, held back, on his own, you could only yelp and whimper at what kind of monsters the two of them would be together.

 “Nah, that little shit doesn’t deserve you.” He smirked into your sopping wet core. Eren never appreciated the finer things in life, still to young to understand the joys of pussy eating. No, he was more for the fuck and chuck kind of lifestyle. You deserved better aftercare than a point towards the door. “Some of the guys at my firm, however. Bet they’d turn you out real nice. They’re all just about as big and pent up as me. We could all show you a real good time." That would be about…three, four, even five of him? All fucking you at once with the same vigor and deep seated intensity. You head buzzed at the thought. "You’d like that, wouldn’t you, whore?” You couldn’t keep up with him in this state. You were completely fucked out without even being fucked at all. Before you knew it, you were cumming all over his gorgeous face and beard. He was taken slightly aback, but he licked it all up in five seconds flat. He was a professional.

 “Answer me, doll.” He delivered a harsh slap to your thigh. He enjoyed the ripple it gave and the red mark his hand had left.

 “Yes, Mr. Yeager.” You stuttered out, barely above a whisper. Torturing you would be fun, but not tonight. No, he needed to be thorough with your pleasure and ensure you would never leave his side again. He gave a few light slaps to your slippery pussy, making your thighs shake and mouth move without making a sound.

 “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He slowly stood up, giving you a perfect view of the shining god before you. His body was something sculpted by the old masters; a true work of art. Before you could fully appreciate the image of perfection in front of you, he bent down just a bit, pushing your thigs back as far as they could go, squishing your tits under them. He enjoyed the way your pudgier parts stuck out, giving him more parts of you to pinch and suck on as he fucked into you. His was no doubt the biggest cock you’d ever taken, and it wasn’t easy to have inside of you at first. Your walls clamped down on him so tight it was almost painful. But as he slowly pushed in and out, pleasure began to overtake the pain and you started to loosen up just a bit.

 “Just relax, sweetie. Daddy’s got you.” Of course he had a daddy kink. It made perfect sense, as did yours. Hearing him say that in that truly comforting tone made your head spin with pleasure.

"God, you are so fucking tight." He continued to fuck into you at a savage pace, not seeming to care if you screamed or cry, rather relishing in the fact that you were. You were so young and tight and sensitive, it drove him mad. He was sure he could never go a day without your pussy again.

"You fit me like a vice, sweetheart. You trying to milk me dry? Huh?" Your mouth was hanging open, drool spilling out. It gave him ample opportunity to spit in your mouth once again.

"Swallow it you filthy slut." He lightly tapped your face.

"This is exactly how I wanted you." You could barely hear him, blanking out at the intensity of his continuous pounding of your poor little cunt. "Been thinking about this for months."

"Might just knock you up, sweetie. You already take care of my brats so well, what's one more?" You squealed at the thought. He wanted you to have his babies. He wanted you to be his new, permanent play thing to fuck and fill up every night.

"Yeah. I wan' your babies." You slurred your words, inebriated by the feeling of his cock filling your tight little cunt. He gazed down at your fucked out form, finding a sick sense of pleasure in how far gone you were all thanks to him. You moaned far too loud for someone in a house full of kids. You couldn't hold back, he just felt too damn good.

"You gonna cum, little girl?" He had almost a mocking tone when he asked that. You nodded your head, squeezing your eyes shut. He kept up the pace, abusing your g-spot, not letting up for even a second. He set out to make you feel incredible; like the perfect little plaything he knew you to be, and he wasn’t going to let his slightly aged stamina get in the way.

"That's it, you look so pretty, baby. What a good little slut." He looked down at you with heated intensity. "My little slut." He continued his brutal pace almost as if you had never cum at all.

"Oh, 'd you think I'd quit just 'cause you finished? No fuckin' way." You squealed as he continued to thrust inside you, still drunk on the idea of being full of his cum. You wanted him more than you had wanted anything in your life.

"'M gonna make you squirt all over me. Ruin this nice, expensive couch." You were screaming his name at that point, unable to form a thought that wasn't Zeke and his perfect dick.

"Such a fuckin' cocktease all these months. This is what you get for it. Tummy full of my cum." He slowed his pace as he looked into your eyes with the intensity of a man drunk on desire.

"All those times you flipped your skirt up so I could see your cute little panties." He thrusted into you harder than he had before. "All those times you called me Mr. Yeager in that innocent tone that drove me up the wall." He thrusted harder than you had ever thought possible. You felt him hit your cervix. "Every time you acted like you didn't know what you were doing. Like you didn't know what I wanted." He continued to pound into you. You felt so full, so good.

"You're getting tighter, baby. You gonna squirt while daddy fills you up, huh?" His pace was brutal and you were seeing stars.

"That's it, pretty baby, cum all over me. Let me fill you up." He humped into you a few final times before shooting his load into your cunt. You screamed at the feeling of your cum squirting out of you as his cum squirted into you. You were so dizzy and so full. You were happy. You were safe and taken care of and filled to the brim by the man you loved most.

 “Hey.” You saw Zeke’s stunningly handsome face look down at you. His cheeks were flushed, forehead sweaty, sculpted chest heaving. But his eyes were transfixed on you with a look so filled with love and passion it made you feel like you were floating. “How you holding up, princess?” That was a new name…not that you minded. “Didn’t go too rough did I?” He panted in between his gentle words, the main drawback of giving it your all.

 “Actually.” You huffed a bit, just then realizing how difficult it was to talk, or move, or breathe. “Think you coulda’ gone harder.” He chuckled, the same look of complete infatuation lingering in his oceanic eyes.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

 “You sure?”

 “I’m tougher than you’d think, old man.” He laughed at you, appreciating how you could still be the sweetest little thing he’d ever met after being pounded half to death.

 “Alright, I’m not even thirty, you little minx.”

 “Calling me a minx isn’t helping your case, Zeke.” His eyes lit up with recognition.

 “First time you’ve called me that, angel.” He smiled like an idiot in love, because he was one.

 “Maybe it’ll be the last, if you keep acting like such an animal around me.” You slapped his shoulder with as much strength as you could muster, which was basically none.

 “Well, if you don’t like the rough treatment, how about I treat you like the perfect angel you are? Treat you to a nice, warm shower and a cuddle session with yours truly. How about that?” He gently rubbed your cheek, taking in how wonderful your afterglow was.

 “Sounds nice.”

 “Alright, let’s go, angel.”

 “Okay, Mr. Yeager.” You giggled at how quickly his face darkened and lips tightened into a frown.

 “Ever the tease, you are.” He carried you to his shower bridal style, no doubt a sign of things to come.

[miss-choco-chips]

Umm... I was wondering if you could Maybe do a follow up on your mini fic Last Line from dicks pov? It gave me alot of feelings and i would love to see the fallout?

Your work is really good! Its so cool how your brave enough to put pieces of yourself out there for other people!

Hey babe! Thank you for your kind words! It made me smile getting this, you are very sweet <3

I totally forgot about Last Line lol, but when I saw it reminded me that I actually wrote a bit more of it, both before and after the scene I posted. So, this isn’t exactly what you asked, but here’s some backstory and then the fallout!

---.---

Four years old, and he watches the red string on his finger pulled taunt towards the crying boy, the color of the thread well disguised among the red blood of the murdered acrobats.

Nine, and he watches from the shadows as it swings right and left, following Robin’s pirouettes from building to building. The thread, that usually goes a few feet before ‘vanishing’ from sight, was almost completely visible now, at such a short distance from the person holding onto its other end.

He’s on his twelve when he tries to explain to Dick the importance of him going back home. He wasn’t sure of his success, even though the older hero took him to the manor, because during his whole speech, Nightwing hadn’t looked up from the red joining them together. It wasn’t exactly how Tim wanted him to find out, but… Batman needed a Robin, and he was out of options.

At fourteen, he feels Kon’s hand clenching on his shoulder, as they both watch from the side how Nightwing swept Barbara off her feet and twisted her around, laughter falling from both their lips even as Dick thread’s end was pointing towards Tim. The third Robin didn’t turn to look at his best friend, didn’t meet Bart’s eyes or react to Cassie taking his hand on hers. He just made sure his face was perfectly devoid of any emotion when he muttered, low enough only a kryptonian would hear, ‘I wish it was any of you’. 

(A few nights later, when he and Conner were sitting quietly on the Tower’s roof, the clone took Tim’s hand with his own, his lack of red string blatantly obvious as he said ‘If I had any, I wish it could be you’. To this day, it’s the sweetest thing anyone ever said to him)

He is so, so tired, and he’s only sixteen. But keeping up with the shitfest that was the Battle for the Cowl, helping Dick while ignoring his red string (pulling him towards Nightwing, now Batman, stark contrast against the dark of his suit, with distracting insistency), dealing with Damian’s abuse as expected of him as the ‘mature, older brother’, coping with Bruce’s death, the shock of Dick throwing him, his soulmate, away so so easily…

(Shouldn't be surprising; Dick had been discarding him in favor of others since they met, shamelessly displaying his various relationships in front of him with an attitude that might be called cruel from anyone else but that just earned him playful shoves from other Leaguers while Tim was expected to swallow his pain, because a red string isn’t a promise, Dick is free… and yes, he knows that, but it doesn’t mean shit to his dying heart)

(Maybe, when he left for proof of Bruce being alive, it wasn’t so much for his old mentor than it was for himself)

----.----

Tim is seventeen and halfway across the world, looking at the string attached to his hand that never truly meant anything to any other than him (not to Bruce, who never took Dick aside and talked to him about consideration with his soul mate; not Dick's conquers, who never gave a fuck  about the red string in the hands that touched their skin, even when a lot of them knew who was on the other end of it; not Dick himself, who after asking every thing out of Tim and having it, forcefully took the one thing Tim wouldn't give by choice and claimed Tim was his equal, his soulmate, so he never could be his sidekick... even if it was the first time ever that Dick even mentioned the string tying them both together), when he thinks 'you were always free; now, I'm freeing myself’.

He gingerly bites on the string, and with his other hand takes a handful of it and pulls.

The pain piercing his heart is expected, but not new. He had been feeling it since the first time he saw Dick's back as he walked away with someone else.

He times it carefully, too. He doesn't think Dick would care, but just in case, Tim waits until it's morning in Gotham, when he's sure Dick is probably sleeping after patrol.

Maybe he would wake up without noticing

---.---

In Gotham, Dick is carried by Alfred and Damian to the cave, when the new Batman's screams of pain woke everyone in the Manor up. They are suspecting cardiac arrest, and then Dick looks down to his hand and notices the string, always tense, signaling him where his north is, where Tim is, laying loose and lifeless.

He panics, asks Superman to track Tim down or something, and when the man confirms Tim is still alive somewhere in the Middle East, he knows.

And like a freight train, the parting words Kori told him the last time they saw each other hit him right in the chest.

"He isn't going to wait for you forever"

----.-----

When Tim does come back, at nineteen, it’s a quiet thing. 

He spent the last how many days carefully setting his systems up, making sure his mainframe would outstand Oracle’s scrutiny when she realized he was back in town and tried to hack her way into his life.

(He didn’t blame her, of course not. Dick was charming enough, good enough, anyone he set his eyes into would be helpless to nothing but fall in his arms.

And, wasn’t Tim the one who would have been intruding, had he tried to chase after the first Robin? Everyone knew he and the original Batgirl were a perfect match, thousands of times better than Tim, whom Fate just wanted to screw over.

But not anymore)

The first thing he did, once the safe houses were chosen and his programs up and running, was to ruthlessly hack into the Batcomputer and take a look at patrol routes. 

He would need to keep clear of Diamond District and Old Gotham, least he risked crossing paths with B and R. The Financial and City Hall Districts were apparently Batgirl’s playground for the night, and if he wanted to drop by and let Cass know he was back, he could always search for her by the Upper West Side down to Chinatown.

He would avoid the Upper East Side like the plague, though. Maybe Coventry too, just to be safe. Lots of skintight blue in that direction.

Which left… Crime Alley, the Bowery and Burnley, mainly. He needn't check to know who’s house that was.

And that’s how he ended, on his very first night back on the streets, dragging Red Hood’s bleeding ass away from a blowing up building.

-----.-----

Apparently, saving a recently rehabilitated murderous vigilante was a bonding experience, because Jason didn’t kick him out of his side of town, nor tell on him. 

He couldn't, however, do anything to prevent the criminal gossip mile from spreading, and before a week had passed, half the city was aware of the new player on the board.

-----.------

Jason was taking a breather, smoking while sitting on his favorite rooftop, when the rustling sound of fabric told him his peace and quiet was over.

“I thought you were back at being N”, he greeted, not bothering to turn around or get up. 

“B was out of town, and Robin needed someone to watch over him during patrol.”

A quick glance around had Hood snorting, “Then y’re doing a shitty job. Don’t see the midget anywhere.”

It would never NOT be weird to hear a strangled laugh coming out of the Bat suit, as tight and humorless as it was now. It seemed big ol Dick wasn’t doing so great tonight.

“Batgirl took him to a party in Diamond District. Gang war.”

He humms in response, not bothering to keep on the smalltalk. N, no, B was here for something, and it wasn’t Jason’s job to ask it out of him; if it was important, he would do it himself.

“Where is him, Hood?”, he finally went to the heart of the matter. 

Jason tilted his head, still looking over his city, unmindful of the steps coming closer to his position, “Robin? Ya just said it, B. Going senile? Gang war, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t play around. You know I mean…”

Oh, yeah, Dickie still wasn’t sure what to call Timbo. Criminal gossip only went so far, for someone who didn’t bother to shout his hero name to everyone he beat up. It was very possible only�� Jason was aware of his new monicker. All gothamites knew was a young vigilante showed up recently, wearing red and black and hanging out with the Hood, which immediately upped his street rep to ‘not to be fucked with’.

“Lil red?”, he completed for his older brother, feeling both charitable and petty. Batman’s wince was more evident by the rustling sound of his cape; he had hit a sore spot, hadn’t he? 

“Where? I’m not asking again.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not answering. Must be ‘roundere somewhere, the little creep.”

“Hood, I’m running out of patience.”

“And I’m out of cigarettes, your point? I don’t have him on a leash asshole. We just share the same hunting space, it’s not like we go home together and do face masks while we talk about feelings.”

They did go to a safespot, though, and share beer and pizza while cursing their relatives and Fate as a whole, but it wasn’t necessary information for the fucker. He just breathed in the last of his smoke before dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it, stretching as he did.

“Now, any more of this riveting conversation, or can I go? No, wait, it was a rhetorical question; get out of my part of town, ass. I’ve been plenty generous by letting you come this far, but our truce lasts as long as the lot of you don’t build any sandcastles on my playground and you know it. Now, scram.”

He could feel Dick’s reticence at leaving without what he came here for, but Oracle must be talking him into letting it be for tonight, because he didn't push. Jason turned just in the right moment to catch the way Dick looked down to his gloved hand, as if expecting the lifeless red string to be pulled taunt in Tim’s direction by some miracle. Jason felt the smallest ping of pity, quickly washed away by the memory of the younger hero’s haunted eyes as he told Jason the story of his severed soul bond and how he came to do it.

Thirty seconds after the bat vanished into the night, a little red bird landed softly on the spot next to him.

“Thanks, Hood”, he muttered, just as tired and hurting as he’d been ever since he saved Jason’s ass and they became partners, but with the smallest hint of lightness that made him prouder of driving Dick away than he’d ever been.

“Don’t mention it, but fair warning, the big B scomin back home in a few days, and he’s harder to kick out than a hurting, annoying bluebird.”

“I know”, Tim sighed, well aware of both facts. “I’ll play it by ear. For tonight, what about bashing some skulls and ruining Two Face’s new op? Good intel says it’s just a few blocks from here, and shattering bones always makes you smile.”

“Babybird, you speak the language of love.”

“Wasn’t that french?”

“I’m trying to compliment you, don’t be a smart ass about it.”

“I am smart, and I do have a good ass. That seems like an impossible request.”

----.----

[anxiouslyfred]

Sleepovers and Soul Glows

Summary: Virgil’s parents convinced him of so many dangers that came from following the soul glow he’d seen so many times as a child that now he’s an adult he’s never followed it. Perhaps a sleepover with his friends will finally get Remus to reach the end of it instead.

/\/\

If anyone asked then Virgil could list a hundred ways that someone could get into danger just by wandering around the city. Some of it did include things they'd have to decide to do regardless of possible dangers but when he'd made friends with Roman, obsessed with adventure and the quest for his soulmate relationship, they still got included  in the list.

Growing up he had really been just as set on following the glow that appeared wherever his soulmate had been as Roman was now, but his parents got terrified every time he had tried. Originally they had tried insisting he goes places accompanied or grounded him over disappearing but none of that had helped Virgil understand all the concern, so they explained the dangers of the world. Mentally he knew that those dangers are a lot more likely for a child walking alone to encounter than a grown adult, but still he'd learnt the lesson: No following the glow from his soulmate.

Even now, as according to Patton, one of the creepiest cookies around, Virgil wouldn't follow the glow on the occasions he spotted it, usually just on his way to work or home from it. He didn't often leave his house except for that unless his friends from the office dragged him out of it. If he'd gone his entire life living in the same town as his soulmate then they'd have to meet eventually, even if neither of them were actively following the glow.

“Virgil, You actually came for our sleepover. I thought for sure you'd try to find a way out of it!” Roman cheered as he opened the door. They'd been trying to convince Virgil to join in the sleepovers for ages but this was the first time he'd been able to get there.

He shrugged, stepping in as soon as the door was open enough to do so, and looking around at the house. It was larger than most homes he'd visited and extravagantly if not tastefully decorated. It was clear to see what Roman had probably asked to be included in the house and what was his brothers choice. At least Virgil was fairly sure Roman shared his house with his brother.

There was the familiar blue glow going through some of the rooms so Virgil very quickly decided not to ask. Just ignore the trail and avoid upsetting Roman by once again wanting to skip the sleepover. He was already here and couldn't come up with an excuse to leave easily. Why wasn't the glow anywhere near the front door though? Did whomever it belonged to just stay inside or like escape through a window if they wanted to go out?

Roman clearing his throat made Virgil realise he'd been stood silently for too long. “Yeah, you said it would be just us and I've kinda not been able to hang out with any of you this week so thought I'd give it a try. Is anyone else here yet?” He asked, now looking around the hallway and trying to guess where they'd be heading.

“We're all through here. Logan hasn't got here yet but everyone else has.” Virgil followed him through the house, eyes automatically picking out where the glow was going in the rooms and it seemed there wasn't a window that hadn't recently been used as an exit.

/flip to Remus\

Remus had been trying to find his soulmate and follow the glow his entire life. Of course that meant he'd spent most of the time grounded and rarely if ever got treats from their parents, but while those punishments had been enough to stop Roman's adventures, nothing could prevent him from chasing that glow.

So far it had always faded too quickly for him to meet his soulmate, but it had left him confused over where to go in some of the worse council estates. The things he could find and break into around any council estate were the best things, but he did wish his soulmate was among them.

Today his soulmate had been shopping earlier but taken a different route home, so Remus had done everything he could to chase the glow, except going back to his car to drive after it. The fun was in the chase after all, and not in getting into a police chase for speeding through town. Besides, he'd just brought soda and that was best served completely shaken up, especially when Roman had asked him to get it for yet another sleepover.

Getting closer to home, he was bit confused and thrilled to once more spot the sky blue glow, now trailing into his own home. Had his soulmate finally come looking and knocked on the door? Would Roman have sent him away or let them in to wait? Dare Remus even dream that the elusive Virgil Roman always complained about skipping sleepovers could actually be his soulmate?

Whatever the answer was to all the questions Remus was coming up with, he was definitely entering through the games room window. That was where they were meant to be starting the sleepover so probably where his soulmate would be if they were inside.

It was basically muscle memory that got Remus up onto the window sill and trying to shove the window open before he knocked on it. “Unlock the window or I'm breaking it, Smellalot. Then throwing your soda and snacks in the toilet for you!” He hollered through the window, shaking the back hooked on his elbow a bit more.

“Seriously, you know I have guests over, couldn't you have tried literally any other window to get back in?” Roman complained even while pulling it open, glancing back over his shoulder. “Sorry about this Virgil. My brother seems to hate the front door.”

“Front doors haunted. Just today I saw it glowing.” Remus happily replied, jumping through easily enough and looking directly to the stranger in the room. “Glowing just as much as your new friend actually. Are you a ghost, presumably Virgil?”

The guy on the couch had hunch inwards a little, pulling his hood up. “Noo, 'M just Virgil.”

Remus didn't like how uncomfortable he looked but he wasn't going to leave now so threw himself onto the cushion next to Virgil, throwing his legs onto Patton's lap. “Cool, I'm calling you Just from now on then. I'm Remus Russells. What film are we watching?”

He'd dumped the bag while getting through the window, expecting Roman to immediately start pulling things out to set up his perfected sleepover host station, but Roman was glancing from him to his friend still. “Virgil, is he talking about the soul glow?” He asked after a moment of trying to understand Remus's words.

Perhaps he shouldn't have claimed he was ghost hunting anytime he got lost or stuck in some abandoned place after getting distracted from following the glow. “Ghostly apparitions, soul glows, honestly could be the same thing you know. They do say that ghosts are echoes of your soul left behind when you die and media does love to depict them all glowing blue, if admittedly a darker blue than our sky blue trails.”

“Yeah, I, um, sorry. Didn't want to break up the sleepover or something.” Virgil mumbled through Remus's speculation about how ghosts would appear. He was looking cautiously toward Roman, like he expected to have upset him somehow.

Roman obviously picked it up, frowning for a second before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Nothing has been broken up. It appears my dear sibling will just have to join the event. Is that okay with you, Dear Patton?”The gestures ending with a bow to Patton were clearly overacted to get Virgil to relax a bit more again.

“It's fine with me, Kiddo.” Patton giggled a little, before leaning forwards to peer around Remus. “Virge? You okay with this or would you prefer to spend sometime just with Remus?”

“Group. I – Group sleepover please?” Remus wondered what Virgil had stopped himself from saying but pulled himself a bit more upright to lean against Virgil's side.

Nudging him with a shoulder he grinned, “If you wanna you could even share my bed tonight. It's comfier than these sofa beds cause I got the best mattress in the shop.”

Virgil didn't reply beyond a glance. That was fine, Remus had the rest of the weekend and plenty of time after that to get to know him and figure out what type of relationship he'd allow them to have.

[frostsinth]

Siren at the Lighthouse : One-shot

They didn’t have to lift their head at the knock on the wooden frame of the apartment. They already knew exactly who it was by the strong rush of the salty brine that breezed through the open door. Stronger than that of the ocean waves crashing against the cliff below. A grin filled their face as they set the last of the ingredients on the counter.

“Hey! Come on in! I just started prepping everything-”

They jumped as a large, sopping wet fish was heavily slapped on the counter beside them. As long as their leg and twice as fat. Their nose wrinkled up at the beady little eye winking up at them, and they turned with their hands on their hips to consider their best friend.

He gave them an answering grin, mirroring their own, save for his sharp teeth glinting in his elongated jaw. The siren had long ago discarded keeping up his glamour around them; he knew they didn’t care. Actually, if they were being honest, they preferred him in his natural skin. So that was how he stood before them, the sea-foam colored hair at the top of his head nearly scraping the ceiling of their lighthouse apartment. The rest of the silky soft curls spilled about his shoulders, still damp from the ocean spray. They knew if they reached out to touch it, they would find sand trapped amid the thick locks too. His skin was a shade not too unlike their’s, but his was flushed with deep blues and teals instead of pink. Perhaps due to his blue blood, though they had never bothered to ask. He had a long lavender frill that raised and lowered like a bony sail along his spine with his moods. The edges and creases of his muscles boasted tiny glimmering scales of green, sapphire, and a deep magenta that flashed pink in the light. Had he his tail, the scales would have matched its kaleidoscope of colors perfectly. They were pleased to see he had at least politely donned a pair of torn trousers over their shore legs this time, rather than marching about bare naked as he usually did. Though they’d be more concerned if they had any neighbors closer than three miles away; and if he was more comfortable walking around in his own skin, who were they to stop him? His eyes, a solid purple with only the twinkle of light to distinguish where he settled his gaze, turned their attention on them.

“You said you wanted cod.” Roque teased with a grin.

They rolled their eyes, shoving him with their elbow. “I meant the fillets… not the whole damn fish!”

He shrugged, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. Sending a fresh salty scent washing through the air between them. Their nose twitched, and their heart sped up a little at the sight of his athletic frame flexing with the movement.

“Be more specific next time.” He shoved them back, more gently as he was much larger than them, still baring those sharp, pointy teeth in a wide grin as he leaned over. “Want me to clean it then?”

“The recipe I have is for fillets.” They paused, flicking their gaze over the ingredients on the counter to avoid meeting their best friend’s dark glimmering eyes. Ignoring the dryness settling in their throat and the tickle at the back of their neck at his sudden proximity as he stepped a little closer. “I’m not sure how to adjust it for a whole fish.”

His soft “Hmmm” answered them, and they swallowed to chase away the lump in their throat. What was wrong with them!! How many times had he come up to visit since they had met years back on the shore below their lighthouse? The siren had washed up, his tail shifting to legs as he dried in the sun, badly wounded. It had taken all of their strength and ingenuity to get him up to their bed in the lighthouse. It had been weeks of them nursing him back to health, and they had formed a fast friendship during that time. Their smile flickered at the corner at the fond memories of reading to him and talking late into the night about his travels in the great expanse of ocean beyond their modest little house.

He visited them often now, so much so that they missed their quiet sunset talks and sunny afternoons on the beach as soon as he left. Being a lighthouse owner wasn’t supposed to be a very friendly, social job. Which is why they had taken it. They had been very pleased and content being alone. They preferred it; others’ company was taxing. There were so much etiquette to maintain and expectations to meet. So many silly things for people to worry about, and they were expected to worry about it too. It was stressful, and they had never found they quite fit in. No, they much preferred their own company and a good book. Drawing in their sketchbook while listening to the gulls and writing up some of their own adventures (the ones they imagined, anyway). At least, up until Roque had come along.

They turned from considering the ingredients they had lined up on the counter and these memories to find the siren in question waiting patiently for further instruction. They sighed, waving their hand.

“You know how to clean it?” They asked, a little skeptical.

His grin grew. “But of course.”

Without further delay, he hoisted the fish easily by the base of its tail, despite how much the huge thing must have weighed. They had to dodge to the side to avoid the thing smacking into their shoulder as he swung it loosely. They scoffed at him, but he just returned a teasing grin, grabbing a sharp knife and the fish scaler from the island counter behind them. They could hear him scraping and slicing, but set their mind to their own work dicing the vegetables and prepping the other aspects of their meal.

The pair fell into comfortable conversation. Roque told one of his big tales about his latest adventure; something to do with a pod of whales that had gotten stuck inland of a bay and he had shepherded them back out to the open ocean. There was probably more than a little embellishment, not that they minded. They liked the musical lilt of his voice, which always seemed so peaceful and lulling. Likely by design, they realized, but Roque had never tried to use that against them. Well, unless they counted that time he had really wanted the last piece of cake. But they could almost picture the siren guiding the whales, and their hand itched to try to put the image to paper.

Soon everything was set to cook, the fillets seasoned and set into the oven. The vegetables roasting on a spit over the open flame. The rice set to steam in its covered pot. They gave them one last gentle brush of the seasoning, a mixture of oils and spices, then sighed.

“We have some time.” They decided, wiping their hands on their apron. “Though not long.”

“Let’s go to the porch.” Roque suggested. “The sun is setting.”

They offered him a smile, and thought they saw the gentle glint of his eyes shift slightly. But it must have been their imagination that he stiffened at their movement as they led the way out to the porch off the front side of the house.

The waves crashed and resounded below them, and a sea breeze whipped up their hair as they came to stand at the edge. Leaning over their elbows on the railing to look across the long stretch of open water beyond their tiny peninsula and rocky outcropping to the horizon beyond. He was right, the sky was washed in beautiful purples and reds, trailing across the heavens like ribbons. The crests of the waves were dotted with gold from the setting rays, and they gave a deep, happy sigh.

“Moving here was one of the best choices I ever made.” They told him as he came to stand behind them at the railing. “I’ll never get tired of that view.”

They straightened slightly as his hands came down, one resting on the railing on either side of them. The motion brought them startlingly close together, and they could feel the heat of his body at their back. It wasn’t uncommon; Roque seemed to like to be close to them. He said it was because they used to be oceans apart. Why stay that way when they were together, he reasoned. They smiled slightly at the memory. At how comfortable they felt with him. They couldn’t remember ever having been this comfortable with anyone else in their life before, save for perhaps their own family. They enjoyed these moments of closeness. But this time, after a few breaths, his hand moved from the railing to the small of their back. Then slowly snaked around their middle, until his body was delicately folded against theirs.

Their heart bounced sporadically. “Roque…?”

“I am glad you moved here too.” He murmured, his lips next to their ear. His sing-song voice sent a ripple shivering down their spine, but despite the proximity of his sharp teeth to their cheek, it was not one of fear. “...I cannot imagine my life without you now.”

They let out a soft breath, the sunset before them forgotten. Surrounded by his warm body and the soft scent of ocean spray. His long hair trailed down around them, draping over their shoulders as he brought his other arm to wrap around them as well. Enveloping them in a body twice their size. At first, they hesitated, the air in their lung fluttering, and their pulse putting a hummingbird to shame. But he was softer than they would have imagined, standing this close to them. And so very warm. After a few moments, they slowly leaned back into his embrace. They heard him give a gentle sigh of contentment. Their heart leapt, and a tiny smile crept onto their lips.

“...I brought you something.”

Their smiled widened, “Yeah, the fish. I saw that.”

He chuckled lightly. “No, something else…”

They curled slightly, not willing to fully break the tender embrace of the siren but wanting to see his face. To see what he meant. Startling lavenders met their own eyes, an uncharacteristic timidness in the depths of his. Their smile became more puzzled, their heart skipping yet another beat as he unwound one arm to dig deep into the pocket of his trousers. Fishing about for a moment. Finally, he pulled out his prize, but kept his fist big balled around it. He shuffled his feet, his other hand lingering about them, and looked down at them.

“I have been… doing a lot of thinking...” He started, and they were surprised that his dark lavender eyes searched their face so fervently. Looking for something, though they couldn’t say what. They noticed the frill along his spine drooped, and his fork ears twitched. They couldn’t recall a time they had ever seen him this nervous. “And…” He sighed, then held out his hand, opening his long fingers from around his prize.

Nestled in his large palm was an oyster, larger than their own fist, its shell looking a little battered but still bright and polished. He held it out to them, shuffling his feet again.

“I thought you might like this… Humans like these kinds of things, yes?”

They took it from him, turning it over and running their fingers over the smooth surface. “It’s pretty.” They offered, feeling a little heat rise to their cheeks but unsure what to think of it.

He gave a small, crooked grin, baring the tips of those endearingly sharp teeth. 

“Open it.”

It took a moment of digging their nails deep into the cracks of the shell. Then a surprising amount of effort to crack it open. But it had already been opened before it seemed. With a soft SCHWICK, it finally gave. Revealing a soft purple pearl in its center.

Their eyes widened, they had never seen a pearl so large. And the color was a beautiful deep lavender that shimmered and shone in the light. Speechless, they slowly plucked the stone from its soft home, the smell of the sea wafting up from the freshly cracked shell. They held it up, smiling. It was just like him; same color as his eyes, the same briny scent.

“It’s beautiful!” They exclaimed.

He watched them out of the corner of those eyes. “I thought you might wear it… so that everyone knows…”

They blinked, turning to look at him properly. “Knows what?”

His big hands came up, cupping around theirs, closing their fingers around the pearl in their palm. Electricity zipped under their skin, and their breath fluttered in their throat.

“... So that everyone knows you belong to me.”

They forgot how to breathe in that moment, and his hand at their back skimmed up, gently pushing their hair out of their face. His thumb grazed along their temple, sending goosebumps skittering across their skin. He hesitated for a moment, then trailed it down along their jaw, until it touched their chin.

“... I-If you want.” He added shyly, and his face flushed blue.

Their smile returned, and their hand shook a little as they lifted it up to his face. Cupping his cheek in their palm. His dark lavender eyes finally met theirs again. They glanced down at their other hand, turning the purple pearl about, admiring the way it caught the setting sunlight. Their fingers closed back around it, and they looked up. Seeing the golden rays catching in his eyes the same way. His smile creeped back to his lips, answering theirs.

“I’ve always been yours.” Their own face flushed, and he leaned down, his hair falling like a curtain around them. “Since the moment I found you on that beach…”

He pushed their hair back again, sliding his fingers deep into the curls at the base of their neck. “And my life is yours, ever since you saved it that day… In more ways than one. I could give it to no other.”

The two stayed liked that for a long moment, breathing in each others scent. The ocean crashed below them, and the sun slowly sank below the horizon. Neither wanted the moment to end.

“Come on,” They said finally, their voice breathy, “Dinner’s probably ready.”

As he followed after them into the house, grinning from ear to ear with his twisted, elongated smile, they felt as though they were walking on air. Already dreaming of the long summer days combing the beaches, and the late nights drinking hot tea up in the light room and watching the stars. Of the cold winter watching snow fall into the ocean, and laying together on the deck and listening to that honey sweet, melodic voice telling them tale after tale. Maybe they could teach them to read, and they could share their favorite passages with each other. If he was willing, they’d love to do some sketches of him. Try to capture the elegance of his scales. They imagined the delicious baking aromas and the echo of laughter in the apartment.

Because even though they really did enjoy being alone, they didn’t fancy being lonely.

....

Here’s the Second Place Winner Monster Commission by the lovely @dragoninthemoonlight​, who requested a male siren x gender neutral reader. I hope this is something like what you had in mind!

I had a lot of fun writing this sappy fluff! I could see revisiting these two in their cozy little lighthouse.

If you are interested in your own Monster Match commission, DM me for prices and availability! And read some of my other work on my MasterList.

Best wishes!

[peachyteabuck]

a king is first a man [snippet]

summary: thor’s fighting a double-fronted war, desperately attempting to quell the flames of a revolution, and is grappling with his father’s long-since murder on the battlefield all those years ago. somehow, none of that compares to the trouble of his new queen. 

this is a commission for @empyreanwritings​ who commissioned a snippet from the full work.

pairing: thor odinson x reader

words: 2507

trigger warnings: medieval au i did very little research for, brat taming that includes spanking as a punishment, allusions to breeding kink, angst related to social position if you squint. 

notes: major credit to @spacelabrathor​ for allowing me to steal this concept and write a full fic for it. she’s legit the best and i can’t thank her enough for putting up with me - both in relation to this fic and the rest of our friendship. she’s legit THE shit and deserves everything. 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

She walks with the grace one would expect of someone like her: educated, precise, bored. Her back is straight as an arrow, feet silent, smile barely touching her cheeks as she hangs her head in feigned sorrow. In the dim lighting of the “secret” (known only to the highest of servants, the king himself, and, apparently, her) hallway she looks kind, mournful. If Thor did not know better, he might have offered his regards, asked if there was anything he could do to bring one of those toothy grins back to her bright face.

Unfortunately, Thor does know better. He knows as much about her as he does his greatest enemy – what they teach all the generals to learn before undertaking something serious as war: motivations, desired outcome, what leverage she holds over the throne and anyone dumb enough to occupy it. He knows what she thinks, why she thinks it, what she thinks will happen.

Despite this plethora of knowledge and years of military training and etiquette classes and warning from those he trusts the most, Thor loses himself as he backs her into the wall, never touching her but commanding the space between them with precision – just as he yields a sword during battle.

That’s how his heart feels, too, pounding in his chest as if his ribs were the bars separating him from his captor. He can feel heat course through his body, his hands flexing as flint strikes steel in each of his veins. He wonders, for a brief moment, if he is dying – if she had poisoned him just to fall into the very seat she claimed she loathed. No – he quickly realizes. That would be too easy. If she were to kill him, were to stop his heart or slit his throat or plunge his father’s sword into his chest, then were would be no game for her to play; there would be no place for her lightning to strike whenever she wished. She – Gods forbid – would be saddled with responsibility, something her childish bones could not handle. Like a house with no foundation she’d crumble, curling in on herself as servants and soldiers and saddle hands all pried for her attention.

“What?” she questions, arms folded across her chest. Her brow is furrowed, jaw set as she breaks Thor’s thoughts and wretches him back to the moment – back to her. It’s always her, isn’t it? Always has to be her, ever since she arrived on that carriage and turned her nose up at him and refused to kiss the family ring.

“You know what,” he snarls back at her, teeth bared as he leans in close enough to smell whatever the chambermaids had placed in her morning bath. Yesterday it was lavender – light and airy as she explored the castle as if she was a ghost peering through a window. Today was something stronger, something that bites at Thor’s nostrils just as she bites at his patience. “You know you are not supposed to attend meetings of a royal nature unless specifically given permission.”

Thor watches her carefully, watches as she doesn’t even flinch as she lets out a small laugh, rolling her eyes before returning the king’s gaze. It’s odd to see someone like her – someone so young – look back at him with such fire, determination. It had taken him years to reach that level of confidence, to develop the will to stand up to someone as powerful as himself. He can’t tell if he’s furious or impressed or both. Either way, he refuses to let her get the best of him.

Thor grabs her by the back of her neck, quickly flipping her around so her cheek is pressed against the smooth, cold stone, her hands pressed against the wall near her sides.

“If you want to act like a child-“ Thor hisses as each hand pins one of her wrists. “I am going to treat you like one.

The second she’s picked up and tossed over his one of his broad shoulder, she does her best to contort an exit for herself, thrashing and kicking like a cat that had been plunged into a freezing river. Thor, though, maneuvers her as if she was some inert object he was placing on a newly dusted shelf, keeping her wrists pinned behind her back and avoiding the kick of her heel as he carries her into the large chambers they now – whether she liked it or not - share. When he steps through the threshold, he ignores her cries for a moment longer, taking in the scent of her that had filled the room as he notices mused linen bedsheets and pillows strewn across the room, despite knowing it had been made by ever-attending servants when she had gotten up from her midday nap.

Had she been touching herself before she interrupted Thor’s meeting with the council? Had she plunged three fingers into her dripping center, chasing the world’s sweetest pleasure? Had she thought of her husband while she gushed over her hand? Had she whispered his name so the servants would not hear her shameful lust, or had she screamed it – hoping one of them would call upon him to make her stop? Did she think that they thought he had that much power over her?

Thor shakes his head, returning to his original mission. The king smoothly navigates the large room while making sure his bride doesn’t knock anything over (she had ordered many a plate of treats while she was alone, barely picking at any of them, even as the carts the servants placed them on filled the room). Like the minotaur in the maze, he carries her with ease. In the back of her mind she can’t help but admire that – as if he can predict her every physical movement with precision, even before she knows exactly what her flailing limbs plan to do.  

Without warning, she’s dropped onto the center of the large bed. She sees her chance of escape, but her hope is quickly squashed when Thor grunts as he moves to pin her down, grabbing both of her wrists in one of his large, war-bitten hands. Something inside her can’t help but flutter as he manhandles her into the position Thor believes befits her behavior, one where he sits at the edge of the bed while her stomach is laid upon his muscular thighs. Her thin dress is torn without so much as a shrieking RRIIIIIPPP – as if even the fabric is surprised how efficiently it is ripped off the newly-appointed queen’s body. It sends a shiver down her spine, the knowledge of the king’s strength and size rusty in its age but easily shined with each exercise of Thor’s power.

“All you brats are the fucking same,” he growls through grit teeth as his large hands lay sharp slaps over her thin underclothes, preparing her for the punishment to come. “You push and you push and you get what’s coming for you and then you act as if you’re innocent.”

The queen gulps, still attempting to free her hands while her legs kick. Thor just laughs at her, pushing her wrists harder into the small of her back as he continues to smack her plump ass.

“Keep trying, my little morning dove,” the nickname given to her by the driver of the carriage she had road in on all those days before falls from his lips like blood after a swift kick to the face, pooling onto her back and in her center. “Eventually you’ll run out of fight and then this will go much easier.”

She huffs, dramatically yelling as the last of her fabric protection is stolen from her, exposing her to hot air in the room. “What on Earth are you talking about!? I didn’t do anything!”

Thor just snorts, leaving a few more smacks against her bare flesh. “This little innocent act you’ve been playing up all these years? It isn’t going to work on me.”

She scoffs, her next inhale sharp as his favorite battle sword with one final slap being laid against her. “I…I-“

The king just laughs deep in his chest, his hand moving from the round of her ass to between her now-trembling legs. Each ounce of golden defiance that once replaced the blood in her veins seemed to disperse as he touches her there, gathering the slick that dripped onto his pants. Suddenly, the clothing feels much tighter than before (though, whether it had occurred in that instant alone was unlikely) as he watched the pads of his wettened fingers reflect the torches along the wall. His face heats as the corners of his lips turn up into a smile – though he suspects the fires are not to blame.

“You took your retribution well,” he tells her, letting go of her now limp wrists to rub at the heated skin. She moans, pressing her face into the thickest gathering of blankets her limited movement grants her, last taste of insolence drying on her tongue. “I think I should show you what those who behave are rewarded with.”

She’s unable to process his words before she’s flipped again – Thor now on his feet while she remains on the bed, though now flat on her back. She’s completely bare but finds no shame in her exposure, watching her husband with fevered attention as he rips his shirt from his body.

Thor’s barely able to pull his linen pants under his ass before she’s begging for him, mumbling something that falls between a prayer and a spell to beckon the king closer to her – words low and desperate as they’re spoken into the heated air between them. He’s so hard it hurts, like his shoulder after he gets a newly weighted sword or his calves when he rides a new horse. It’s this simmering thing inside of him, water in a cauldron close to boiling but not quite there; his whole being existing on the precipice of something he can’t quite identify.

It’s not as if he has the time for introspection, though, because the second the air hits the skin of his hardened cock and she’s grabbing at him and pulling him to her, inside of her and for the first time since he was considered too young to be king his mind is-

Blank.

His mind is blank with a white-hot fire that blinds him as his guttural moans form a symphony with hers. Neither of them speak, neither of them can, brains preoccupied with their bodies and their bodies preoccupied with each other. It feels like battle almost, some carnal instinct commanding his every move while whatever consciousness keeps him tethered to the present surrenders itself to some orgiastic impulse. For the first time in a long time the monarch feels himself lose control as his hands roam her heated skin, as his war-torn palms feels the supple flesh of her chest and pinch at her pert nipples.

She inhales sharply at the small pinch of pain, the way she clenches around him encouraging him to continue.

“Oh!” she moans, loud and unabashed.

Thor had not taken a woman in a long while, too busy with his duties as king. He had moved bedrooms, in fact, since the last time he’d bed anyone, and had no idea whether the architecture granted him privacy from the staff. However, just as you practically waltzed into his highly contentious meeting, Thor allows himself to grunt and roar and curse without pity for the ears of those within the rest of the large castle.

One of his hands plants itself in the sheets, using it for balance as the other moves to rub at the most sensitive part of her. He revels in her screams of pleasure, in her pleas for him not to stop don’t stop don’t stop it’s yours take it please take it please!

A sense of pride swells in Thor’s chest, blossoming with the soil of watching her switch from rebellion to subservience with him having to do so little in such a short period of time.

Tightening in his abdomen distracts him from his preening, hips chasing the same peak she seems to be close to.

Thor tries to piece himself together enough to ask a question he wishes he didn’t have to. “Where do y-“

“Inside of me!” she immediately gasps, voice strained and desperate. “Please!”

Just as he wishes she would, he does exactly as he is told with nearly no hesitation – unloading inside of her just as she screams with her own release.

If the palace occupants could not hear them before, they surely heard the married couple then as they both shouted in vulgar unison. Deep and animalistic and wonderful, they both pant as they fall into a breathless kiss.

Her high recedes like the lake that runs through the kingdom at the beginning of dry season – slow and deliberate and leaving her with a dry mouth. She stares at the ceiling, noticing for the first time that a map of the kingdom has been painted there. It seems, just as she views the room, that she sees the rest of the world with a sharper eye; she wonders that if she were to be escorted outside by one of those ghastly ladies in waiting outside, she would see the night sky with more precision than ever before. If she could sift through the darkness, would she be able to draw the stars? If she were to look back down to Earth and attempt to traverse the forest, could she watch the fauna as they walked through the pitch black?        

“Drink this,” Thor’s gruff voice cuts through the thick fog in her brain, handing her one of those obnoxious chalices. The metal and jewels adorning it are cooled by the chilled water inside of it, and she wonders how it stayed so cold despite the heat in the room. “You need to keep a clear head.”

She gives a little snort as she gulps the water down, small droplets spilling from her lips and down between her breasts. It takes all of the king’s minute willpower not to drink that down, too. “Why would I need that?”

Thor…does not have an adequate answer to that, at least one he can articulate. There’s a sense of dread that settles into his gut, winds its way through his gut and makes him feel queasy. He wonders if she hates Asgard just as her mother presumably hates his new wife’s home kingdom, if Thor had done something so devastatingly wrong to this poor young woman and the both of them would have to live in the choice forever.

“You know, if you’re going to spiral each time I say something like that, I’m going to need to behead you,” she jokes as she places the chalice back in Thor’s hands. Her arms shake just a little as she does so.

It takes a long while for the man to respond.

[iridescent-petrichor]

i cannot fall in love with you

Robin Buckley x Reader

Warnings: Not really? I mean there’s the whole Russian base thing but it’s not too in depth, and if you’ve seen season three I don’t think this would bother you??

Words: 2.2K words

A/N: feel free to send requests in for robin or steve! I love them, so I would definitely like to write more for either of them!! (Also this is very loosely based on the song Say It by Maggie Rogers)

You were lounging on the couch watching a movie when your younger brother, Dustin, burst in through the front door.

“Y/N!” You jumped, turning around to see him panicked, jumping over the back of the couch to land next to you. “You need to take me to Starcourt mall tomorrow. It’s a code red!”

At his words, you felt a chill go up your spine. “Isn’t a code red… upside down business?”

He paused, thinking. “It’s a code… almost red.” You frowned, tilting your head in confusion. “I’ll tell you tomorrow!” Already, he was running off to his room, and you were left to wonder what your brother was getting into now. Ever the troublemaker.

Turning off the movie that you hadn’t truly been paying attention to for the past twenty minutes, you decided to turn in so you can get up bright and early to drive Dustin to the mall.

 Morning came sooner than you would’ve liked, and you were still trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes while you drove to Starcourt Mall. You hadn’t really spent any amount of time there, so it would be a new experience for you and Dustin.

“So, why the mall? What’s so special there?” You asked, glancing at your brother to see him leaning forward in his seat, bouncing his leg in anticipation.

“Steve!” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at Dustin’s odd friendship with the recent graduate. “He’s gonna help us!”

Help us with what?

You barely had time to park before Dustin launched himself out of your car, sprinting into the mall and leaving you to trail after him. He had the courtesy to wait for you at the front entrance, at least. By the time you actually got to him, though, he had already grown impatient again. Grabbing your hand, he ran off in the direction of Scoops Ahoy where he assumed Steve would be working. Neither of you knew for sure whether he was actually working there today, or if he was working there at all. You weren’t too close with Steve, and you not stopping by the mall ensured that you hadn’t actually seen if he got the job he applied for about a month ago.

When Dustin pulled you into the shop, it wasn’t Steve working the register, but a girl around your age. You’d definitely seen her around school before, but you’d never actually seen her. Until now. She looked up, smiling only because her boss had told her to. Still, it was the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen.

Shit.

You definitely didn’t believe in love at first sight, but you couldn’t find any other way to explain these feelings. Halting at the door, Dustin let go of you, running forward to greet the unfamiliar girl.

“Hi.” He smiled, saying nothing more. If you weren’t so mesmerized by the girl at the counter you would’ve cringed at the awkward conversation that was unraveling before you.

“Hi.” The girl repeated, leaning forward slightly. Finally, you were able to snap yourself out of your daze and walk up, placing a hand on Dustin’s shoulder and smiling at the girl.

“I’m Dustin.” Your brother continued on, most likely unaware of how odd he sounded introducing himself instead of actually ordering anything.

“I’m Robin.” The girl, Robin, said to your brother before looking up at you in mild confusion. You shrugged, letting out a short laugh before Dustin spoke again.

“Pleasure to meet you. Uh, is- is he here?” As he asked this, you craned your neck to see if you could see Steve in the backroom, but to no avail. You began to wonder if he even worked here. Why didn’t we just stop by his house?

“Is who here?” Before either of you can respond, the door leading to the backroom bursts open, revealing Steve Harrington. It seems you were wrong.

“Henderson!” You step back out of the way, smiling as you watched the odd duo reunite. When you looked up, you made eye contact with Robin.

Shit.

The butterflies were back, worse than before. You smiled nervously, before desperately turning your attention back to your brother. Anything to avoid staring at her like an idiot.

“So, what were you gonna tell us?” You missed the curiosity in Robin’s eyes when you spoke, preferring to focus on Dustin, who grabbed you and Steve’s hands in each of his, pulling you over to a booth to explain everything.

 “Hey, hand me the tape?” You nodded, grabbing the tape to hand it over to Robin. When she asked, you managed to convince Steve and Dustin that another member to help translate would be very helpful. As she grabbed it, her fingers grazed yours for a moment before you both pulled your hands away as if you’d been burned. “Thanks.” She smiled awkwardly, playing the recording once more and trying to focus on the voice of the Russian man speaking to ignore the tension that Dustin, who was sitting between you two, was oblivious to.

It wasn’t long before Steve stumbled back into the room, complaining about customers, and forcing Robin to switch with him. You watched her go, both relieved and disappointed that she was leaving. If only you were able to talk to her.

“What have you got so far?” Steve’s voice snapped you out of your own head, turning to him with wide eyes.

“Oh- uh, ‘The week is long, the silver cat feeds…’ that’s all.” He nodded in understanding, replaying the tape once more. You leaned back, sighing. The translation was gonna go much slower without Robin here to help.

 After an entire day of translating Russian with Robin and finding out the communications were sourced somewhere in your very own Hawkins, Indiana, you instantly collapsed onto your bed. Unfortunately, sleep was the last thing on your mind. You couldn’t get Robin out of your head. You’d only known her a day, but you couldn’t stop replaying the conversations between you two today.

I wonder if she’s doing the same thing. You shook the thoughts from your mind, frowning. Of course she doesn’t. And yet, you sighed, wondering what it would be like if you could truly tell her about your newfound feelings as easily as Steve could flirt with every girl that walked into the store.

Thinking of Robin made your chest tighten, and you knew you had a dopey smile on your face. Being around her, even translating a code from a secret Russian communication, made things feel… Normal. That’s all you really wanted. To feel like your life was normal. With years of dealing with Demogorgons or Demodogs, you found yourself chasing any sense of ordinary life you could find.

  Steve was pacing in front of where you sat next to Robin. The kids – Erica and Dustin – had long since fallen asleep. Still, the three of you stayed awake to find some way out of the elevator you found yourself in. You lost track of how long it had been, and with the adrenaline still pumping in your system, you were nowhere near tired.

You shouldn’t have investigated the stupid code. With a glance towards your sleeping brother, your stomach twisted painfully. You shouldn’t have brought your brother into this Russian death trap.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Robin turn to you. Turning to meet her gaze, you felt the air leave your lungs. She had a habit of doing that to you; making you feel like you couldn’t breathe in the best way possible. She tried to smile, but it came out shaky. You couldn’t help but smile back in an effort to reassure her. Sure, it didn’t work, but the effort was clear.

She looked away to stare at Steve who was still pacing. “Hey dingus, can you stop pacing around for five minutes?”

He paused, only for a couple seconds, before going back to walking around the confined space.

You rolled your eyes, glad to have Robin and Steve’s antics to lighten the mood.

 Your anxiety was practically eating you alive. How could you have let Robin and Steve convince you to go to safety with the kids? Your mind was racing with all possible scenarios of what Robin could be going through right now. You should be the one in her place, you’re the one that’s actually dealt with this kind of thing before.

When the alarm started blaring, you looked to Dustin and Erica, grinning, before the three of you sprinted through the Russian base to find the others. Dustin ran into a room just before you could stop him, but hearing Steve’s voice gave you some semblance of comfort.

“Hey, Henderson! I was just talking about you!” He didn’t sound sober. Great.

You didn’t know it was possible for your heart to sink to your stomach and soar into your throat at the same time, but seeing Robin tied up but unharmed provided that effect. As fast as you could, you rushed to where she was sitting, and undid the binds. She gratefully threw herself into your arms, and you tried your best to push down the butterflies that once again announced their presence in your stomach.

Once Dustin and Erica got a handle on Steve, the five of you made your way towards the exit.

  The mind flayer crashed to the ground, Billy Hargrove falling with it. Logically, you knew about how the mind flayer itself was composed of half the town, but it was much different seeing someone you knew – a term you used loosely with Billy - die right before your eyes. You never liked him. Hell, your opinion of him still hadn’t entirely changed. But it still hurt seeing him get torn to pieces; hearing Max’s blood-curdling scream echo off the walls of the mall.

Instinctively, you grabbed Robin’s hand. She didn’t pull away, and for a moment, you could pretend it was just the two of you. It was silly, thinking of your love life in a time like this. It certainly wasn’t the time for crushes, and you were harshly reminded of that when you realized Robin was pulling you out of the building. You hadn’t even noticed the fire engulfing the area until you were outside, away from the danger.

It was silent between the two of you, and before Robin could pull her hand away, you tightened your grip ever so slightly.

“Holy shit.” She muttered. You nodded, almost afraid to speak. As more of the mall started coming down, the two of you backed away towards the oncoming emergency vehicles.

Finally, you split off towards different ambulances, getting your various injuries checked out. You and her were definitely lucky, but knowing that didn’t lessen the pain at all.

 You stood there, exhausted from the events of the past day. You were sore in places you didn’t know existed, and your ears are ringing. Everything hurt, so much. You look at the remains of the mall, wondering if this was finally the end. In all likelihood, it probably wasn’t. You try to push those thoughts from your mind. Your eyes drift down from the fire, landing on Robin, her face illuminated by the flames consuming Starcourt. She stood there, clutching the shock blanket to herself, eyes blank trying to process what happened.

You were halfway to Robin before you even noticed you starting walking. She turned, focusing her attention on you.

“Hey.” She said. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would’ve missed the way her voice cracked.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” You asked, taking in the bandages on her face.

Giving you a shaky smile, she muttered, “I’ve been better, honestly.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry you got dragged into all this.”

“It’s okay.” She laughs weakly, looking up to the sky. “This has definitely been a memorable summer.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.” You couldn’t pull your eyes away from her. How her hair framed her face, and how her smile made you feel lighter than air. You were definitely in too deep.

“I’m glad I met you, though.” She says, and you could’ve sworn you misheard her.

“Me too.” Your voice was quiet, a whisper in the night. When she turned to face you, your breath hitched at how close she was.

She leaned closer, and you were positive you were dreaming. “Can I,” she stopped, scared to close the distance between you. “Kiss you?”

To answer her question, you placed a hand on her cheek, pressing your lips against hers. Okay, now you’re definitely dreaming. And yet, when you pulled away, Robin was still standing there, still real.

“Can you stay at mine tonight?” Robin’s voice was weaker now, still processing what just happened. You nodded, smiling wider than you ever have.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

[delldarling]

priorities | merrick

chasing truth | chapter three male faerie x gender/body neutral reader 3494 words sfw | mentions of found family, anxiety chapter index? or chapter two?

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

Human jobs are, on the whole, useless things. Merrick watches humans day in and day out, cringing as they trudge into their work places, lamenting their chosen profession, or the people they work with, or work for. Very few of them seem to enjoy themselves, and those that put on a brave face, that smile and appear gracious? They reek of lies. 

But the purpose of them is fairly important. 

Merrick cares for you. He wants to spend as much time as possible with you.. But hanging onto your every word and dogging your steps will not help him move through the human realm. He can glamour his way into and out of buildings, he can steal food and clothing, but he knows without a doubt that neither you nor Gar would approve.  

Gar isn’t much help when it comes to seeking work either though. Merrick isn’t as easily entertained as Gar is. He has no desire to sit in an apartment, day after day, watching television or playing games. Some are fairly amusing, he’ll concede, but... Gar’s explained the “work” behind it before, reviewing products, answering questions-

“My honest answers are amusing to them,” Gar had told him with a sly grin and a shrug. “And it’s- it’s engaging. I don’t have time to worry when I’m caught up in them.” Merrick pretends not to notice that his grin fades infinitesimally when he says the last. If he notices, he’ll have to ask, and if he asks, Gar will have to avoid the question. While he would struggle to admit it out loud, Merrick doesn’t want to press. He wants Gar to tell him on his own terms, even if sooner would be ideal. 

Merrick prefers to move, to do something, to go somewhere- or to nap. But as he has no desire to let humans study him while he sleeps, he searches a little closer to home. Eventually he finds himself roped into doing handiwork for Gar’s apartment complex. The building manager is kind and elderly and is all too happy to have any form of help she can get in this day and age. Mildred asks for no credentials, which makes Merrick wonder if Gar glamoured her somehow, but no. Gar shakes his head and shrugs when Merrick turns to glance at him over his shoulder. She’s simply that trusting.

He’d never tell Gar or any of the friends he’s slowly making here, but it’s absolutely maddening, being in the woman’s employ because he cannot seem to stop worrying. Mildred is frail and thinks so highly of anyone that smiles that he half fears her being injured by any of the humans walking down the street.

Gar laughs himself silly the first time he notices Merrick’s worrying, and then he has to swear Gar to secrecy or risk everyone knowing.

Still, everything feels like- like it’s falling into place. He’s making human currency, rather than stealing it, and he has a place to live, never mind that it’s with Garrick. Though he would prefer not having Gar looking over his shoulder every day. Or rather, most of the time. Despite how irritating Gar is, how cluttered the apartment is with things…

For the first time in recent memory, Merrick’s room holds more than necessities. As soon as he has his first paycheck in hand, Merrick replaces the sheets and bedding Gar so happily lent him. The drawn characters will haunt his dreams, but they were incentive to work steadily (and ignore those humans that insist on watching him as he completes his tasks) simply so he could dump them right in front of Gar’s bedroom door. He pretends to ignore Gar’s cackling when he trips over them, teasing Merrick about having truly grown up, having his own job, buying his own sheets- But Merrick has a smile on his face when he slams the bedroom door shut.

He keeps a clover that you tuck into his lapel one day, insisting he needs a touch of green. He sets it on a small shelf he puts into the wall himself, as well as a stack of How To books for house repair, all to help him in his work duties for the apartment complex. Eventually he invests in one of those ridiculous little music players, because he cannot take listening to Gar’s movies or his playing games in the next room over, day in and day out. It’s still sparse, still mostly bare, but he’s eager to come back to it, every time he leaves. 

Merrick is living.

He really, truly, should have expected it all to end sooner.

He’s in the midst of waking for the day, hair mussed and eyes still heavy, when Gar bursts into his bedroom, door ricocheting off of the wall. Merrick is up on his feet, reaching for his blade before he can process, but his blade isn’t on him. It hasn’t been on him for nearly half a year. It’s in the bag he’s shoved underneath his bed, pushed carefully into the corner to keep visitors from spotting it. 

“This isn’t the smartest way to go about things,” he starts, shoulders slumping when he realizes it’s just Gar. And then he notes the divet in the wall and his mouth opens, ready to chastise his carelessness because Merrick is going to have to fix that-

Gar looks a bit panicked though, and the tightness of his expression halts Merrick’s tirade in its tracks. Perhaps the panicked expression is over the human Gar is so enamored with. In fact.. The thought perks Merrick right up. He can ignore the hole in the wall for a chance like this. He’s put up with plenty of teasing over the past year, and if Gar is handing him the chance to tease him back, then, by all means, he’s going to seize it. Merrick gives him a lazy smile, mouth parting-

“You’ve got to leave,” Gar blurts, fingers trembling around the doorframe. He forgets himself for a moment, squeezing too tightly, and the frame starts to splinter under his grip. Both of them jump at the noise. Gar curses and pulls his hand away, brushing the wood hastily onto his jeans, uncaring when it peppers the carpet.    

“I’ve finally gotten under your skin then?” Merrick asks, confused about the strange ache in his chest. It should’t mean anything, of course. He’s been talking about leaving Gar’s for ages, and surely he’ll be able to talk to Mildred about a different place. She’s always told him to ask if he needs to. “You’ll have to give me a day or two, if you don’t mind. I’m sure I can talk to-”

“No,” Gar says, crossing the room in a quick stride and taking Merrick by the shoulders. “You’ve got to get out of here, now. There’s another Fae in town, absolutely cloaked with glamour-”

Merrick’s heart drops like a stone. 

“-and while I’m fairly sure they weren’t aware of me, they were close. If either of us want to escape notice, I think it best that we split up-”

“Are you an idiot?” Merrick asks, knocking Gar’s hands off of his shoulders. “If it’s anyone from the Court of Air, I’ll be able to-”

“What?” Gar asks, and he steps further into Merrick’s space. His face is lined with tension, jaw clenched, hands shaking at his sides while his cheeks flush hotly. “Merrick, you stayed in the human realm. You didn’t kill me. You’re living with me. It’s likely that they’ve assumed I killed you-” Merrick scoffs, but Gar ignores the interruption. “-so they aren’t looking for you. The Queen still wants me dead!”

“Tell me why,” Merrick tries to say, but Gar just keeps talking over him.

“And if they’re one of your comrades, I’m sure they’ll be looking for revenge. So I’m the priority. If they’re anything like either of us, they’re not going to be vastly familiar with humans, so we can keep in contact easily with our phones, but-” Gar sighs, dropping the glamour on his arms. He wiggles his green tinged hands and then brushes awkwardly over the point of his ears. “It looks like I’ll be taking a page out of your book. I have clothes that can cover me, but this place still has glamour residue - we live here. They’re going to hunt this place down eventually-”

“I never found your home before you brought me here,” Merrick interrupts, stalking after Gar as the lumbering oaf turns on his heel, heading towards his bedroom. “And I’m an expert in glamour tracking-” He just barely avoids Gar closing his bedroom door in his face and he slaps his hand against the wood in retaliation, scowling.

“I didn’t invite any humans here until after you moved in,” Gar explains, opening and closing dresser drawers. “But now everyone is over multiple times a week and I have to glamour myself while they’re here.” 

Merrick curses, hand sliding down the paneling, and then he lets his head thunk against the closed door. All Merrick has ever done is throw on a cap and a long sleeved shirt and call it good, but Gar- He’s right. Gar glamours, not very fond of covering his ears or his hands. There’s hints of glamour all over the place now, and if he had this much to go off of, it’s very likely that he would have found him within the first week. 

He wouldn’t be here right now, and neither would Gar. He would have completed his work within the first... Two days and left the human realm with nothing more than a roll of his eyes, eager to be free of the stench.

Gar’s footsteps move away from his dresser. 

Merrick steps away from the door before it can open, heart thundering in his chest. When Gar steps out, he’s wearing long sleeves, gloves and a hat. It looks- strange. The worry on Gar’s face melts away though and he grins at Merrick, plucking at the shirt sleeves. 

“It’s cold outside, and I look even more like a human this way, right?” He does. But it’s almost wrong, not being able to see the true Garrick beneath his glamour. He’s never hidden this much of himself, not from Merrick, not once. 

“Yes, but Gar, you can’t honestly expect-”

“Go visit your crush,” Gar teases, breezing past him. “Maybe you’ll actually work up the nerve to do more than stand there and stare, hm?”

Merrick can’t let this happen. What if he isn’t around and that is why Gar ends up getting hurt? He whirls, snatching at Gar’s arm, fingers closing around his bicep, and then Merrick is on the floor, wheezing. It feels like he was hit in the chest by stone.

It takes him almost too long to realize that it was Gar that put him on the floor, and it’s his hand, heavy on Merrick’s chest, holding him down. He’s known, he always has, that Gar was hiding things. He could tell that he moved well, too well for a Fae who seemed to be masquerading as a nobody. He was never some kind of gardener, despite his talent with plants - those from the Court of Land always have some kind of affinity for growing things. Just their presence makes grass greener, makes cut plants last longer. Merrick makes another wheezing noise, reaching up to grasp at Gar’s forearm when he presses down just a little harder.

Gar’s face morphs from frighteningly serious, to surprise, and then he looks contrite, pulling his hand away from Merrick’s chest. He immediately grasps Merrick by each wrist and pulls him back to his feet, patting awkwardly at the aching spot he’s left behind. 

“I forgot myself,” Gar whispers, and then he takes a step back. “Go. Call me when you get there, try not to leave and for the sake of Land and Air: Do something about your pining, hm? Your human will waste away if you don’t get off of your rear.”

“I could say the same,” Merrick says back, though his voice is strained and he can’t help rubbing his fingertips over what will surely be a bruise. The pressure of his touch doesn’t help any, and Merrick knows there will be a lingering ache for the rest of the day at least. “If it’s someone from-”

“None of that,” Gar says with a sigh. “Grab your things, if you feel the need, and then go. Both of us need to be out of here within the hour.”

He’s right, and Merrick wishes he could get angry with him for it. He turns to his room, debating on what he should take as he glances around the walls. As proud as he is of his things though, there’s nothing inside that he can’t replace. What’s made this place a home has been the people, and Merrick wonders again how exactly he could have made such a change, in only a year.

He finds himself hoping that the Fae is a nobody, or perhaps a denizen of the Court of Land. He doesn’t want to see anyone from his own Court. Because if he does? He can’t help feeling that things may be bloodier for it. 

Merrick finishes dressing, wearing clothes as warm as the ones Gar chose, though in far darker colors. He can’t help halting in the doorway as Gar flicks off all the lights behind him, watching his eyes comb over each useless trinket and stack of paper. 

“Where is that Air haughtiness?” Gar asks wryly, when he notices Merrick staring. “You’ve always been so above all of this human nonsense.” He laughs though, carefully setting a small plastic figure back on its feet. “Though I suppose if anything gets ruined, it’ll be fun tracking down new ones.”

“Did you kill someone?” Merrick finds himself asking, and immediately wants to take it back. He has to know though. He has to.

Gar’s face clouds over and he looks down at the ground for a moment, but when he meets Merrick’s eyes, there’s no lie in the shape of his mouth.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” he says clearly, brown eyes searching Merrick’s. “I tried to prevent another’s death.” 

Merrick nods, because even if it hadn’t been a sure thing, it had been the answer he’d been hoping to hear. Even if Gar had killed someone, it wouldn’t matter to Merrick. For years, for centuries, Merrick has done nothing but kill others. He’s tempted to tell him, but Merrick doesn’t say it - they don’t have time to argue, and if he utters the words there will be an argument over semantics. Gar has always been that kind of Fae. That kind of person. 

You’ve a far better heart than I, he thinks, and walks out the door, shoving his hands into his empty pockets. He desperately hopes they’ll both be able to come back.

Merrick is a street away from your apartment building when he comes to an awkward stop on the sidewalk. 

Gar had been completely right. They both needed to get out of their place and lay low somewhere else, but.. He shoves his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, twisting his fingers together in nervousness, gritting his teeth. That doesn’t necessarily mean that he should come to you with these problems dogging his heels. 

You still know next to nothing about Merrick or Gar, or where either of them have come from. Not really. He’s told you stilted stories about what he recalls of his parents, and he’s told you once or twice about Kiera and her skills with clothing. But he’s kept his origins so close to his chest, for almost a year now, that it seems.. It is silly, running towards you with such danger close at hand. You know nothing about his work.

Nothing about Aodhfin. And that says everything, doesn't it? 

He can’t help glancing up at the sky and the corners of buildings. His eyes dart to trees next, though there aren’t any near and large enough that could reasonably hide someone from the Court of Air. Not anyone larger than a pixie, anyway, and Gar wouldn't have felt pixie glamour, not with plenty of human realm pixies about already.

He starts walking again, scuffing the toe of his sneakers against the pavement. Even if he does get to your place - what then? Is he just going to waltz in and park himself on your couch, expecting you to play host for who knows how long? You enjoy his company. He knows that much. The two of you.. You flirt, but that doesn't mean you want him invading your space. Your home. Never mind that he's been there plenty of times before, that you've given him a standing invitation to come over- Merrick almost turns around right then. A crow swooping overhead startles him back into nerve wracking movement.

As soon as your apartment building is in view, the front door gleaming in the sunshine, Merrick stops. He waffles between two slabs of concrete, like he's frightened about accidentally stepping on a crack. If he walks through those doors, he's bringing worse things than childhood rhymes to your doorstep. And of course with his heart beating so fast, the thud of it heavy in the veins of his throat, the echo of it within his ears.. He’s fairly sure every person he passes is going to see it. He’s not entirely sure he’s done a good job of hiding his panic from any of the passers-by on the street either, not with the looks people have been giving him- are currently giving him. He needs to go somewhere, but-

He passes the doors, cutting to the corner of the building, and lifts his head, eyes tracing the balcony railings. He counts them, thinking of your floor number, and as soon as he’s sure no one is watching, he climbs. He doesn’t dare risk the use of glamour. Not in or even outside the building. If he’s going to spend any amount of time here today, he has to keep a damper on anything that might give away his location to another Fae. He can’t use anything but his own strength. 

Humans do it too, this climbing without aid, but he can never seem to recall the name for it. He hopes, if anyone catches sight of him, that it will only be impressed teenagers, not law enforcement. Even if they wouldn’t particularly bother him, he doesn’t want you to have to deal with them, and without the use of glamour-

Merrick laments not finding some kind of fake ID. It had seemed like such an inane item when Gar had once suggested it to him, but it would have it’s uses at the moment. Actually, it would have had its uses a thousand times over the past year. “Getting into bars wouldn’t have required so much glamour,” he mutters angrily, pulling himself up another floor.

He makes it over the railing of your balcony, barely winded, and walks to the sliding glass door. It’s closed, and locked. He peers in, eyes narrowed, shielding his face with either hand, but he can’t see you inside. Knocking yields no results either. 

Frustrated, Merrick fishes through his pockets for his cell phone, calling Gar, who answers immediately. 

“Tell me that you haven’t managed to find trouble,” he pleads, but he sounds jovial as always. He’s fine, then. 

“No one is home,” he mutters into the device, wrinkling his nose when the edge of it brushes his face. “Otherwise no.” He thinks about leaning on the balcony railing, watching the people walk by below, but that will draw attention if there’s someone searching via sky. He sits down on the ground, leaning his back against the sliding glass door. 

“Then sit tight. Your human will get back and everything will be fine. I’ll check in with you when I get to mine, hm?” Gar mutters something else beneath his breath - an excuse me, perhaps, and then says a hasty goodbye.

His worry over Gar fades fairly quickly. Within the next ten minutes Gar texts him his location, lets him know he still has all his limbs, and then Merrick is left with nothing to do but wait. Eventually he lays down on the cement, pulls his hat over his face, and tries to nap. He doesn’t gain more than a few stray seconds of sleep over the next few hours, but he doesn’t move when he hears your key turn in the lock. In fact, he goes a little limp, relieved to hear you returning and in fairly good spirits.

Better that you see him first, get the surprise of finding him on your balcony out of your system, and then he can lead up to staying with you for a bit. 

Without conscious decision on his part, Merrick starts to smile.

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

...turn the page?

[halequeenjas]

Hell in a Gift Basket || Jasmine & Michael

TIMING: Yesterday afternoon PARTIES: @coldbloodedkaehler & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: Jasmine goes by to see Michael with a bit of a welcome to town gift. She finds out a little more than she bargained for from the ghosts in the house.  CONTENT: Food poisoning mention

Despite the absolute insanity that was the town of White Crest, Jasmine was able to make a respectable living in the field of real estate. Even with the sky high levels of property damage in the town, she found she could still find clients willing to buy and sell in the area. A large part of her success was due to her own work ethic and determination. She’d always had good connections in town and she worked hard to nurture them and build new ones. Part of that entailed checking in on her customers. She had a whole system with birthday cards set up, but she was always sure to check in on a client soon after they moved into their new home, typically with a nice, branded house warming gift. After all, today’s condo sale or rental could be tomorrow’s house sale. It was why today she found herself checking in with one of her rental customers. Michael had recently moved to town with his family and she had the perfect little gift basket set up for them. There were some wine glasses with her logo on them, a bottle of red and a bottle of white, a nice wooden cutting board with her logo, and a lego set for the little one. She’d let him know she was stopping by so she was sure her knock on the door didn’t come as a surprise. When he opened, she smiled widely and greeted, “Hello, Mr. Kaehler!” She was a bright and cheery as ever as she entered the apartment. She took a glance around and commented, “I love what you’ve done with the place. How’s it been treating you so far?”

A semi-impromptu visit from his realtor had found its way to the bottom of Michael’s list of things to look forward to for the day, and he’d pressed the top of his mobile to his forehead when he’d read Jasmine Hale’s message and sighed deeply into it. A gaggle of forever bitching ghosts hanging around near 24/7 was enough intolerable company, but when up against the vultures in human skin who proudly called themselves members of the National Association of Realtors? He was sorely inclined to pick the dead any day of the week.

Heading down the hall to the front door as he heard the door rap, he ignored Ellie and Chase perched in his living room armchairs and watching him keenly, drowned rat and slit throat respectively arousing not an ounce of alarm. Pulling open the front door, he smiled as he stepped aside to let the woman in, letting it widen as he took in her compliment. “A damn sight better than our old place back in Sedona, I’ll tell you that much,” he replied with half a laugh, crossing his arms and shaking his head at the mere falsified memory of it. The old place back in Sedona had done just fine by them all, but lying came as fluidly to Michael as mercury. His eyes flicked down to the basket, bundled in the realtor’s arms. Ms. Hale could feel pleased with herself in return for whatever garbage in the guise of a gift she was about to set upon him.

“In any case,” he quickly added, “come in, make yourself comfortable.” He smiled, gesturing for her to head into the living room. “The wife’s at work and the girls are back at school, so you pulled the short straw and just ended up with me.” Meanwhile, Ellie was craning her neck from the couch to get a gander at the gift basket. “What’d she get him?” he could hear her ask Chase. Death couldn’t get a good snoop down, and Michael didn’t even blink to acknowledge he’d heard her. Continuing on his way to the kitchen, he glanced back over his shoulder. “I was just about to make myself a coffee. Should I get another mug out?”

One thing Jasmine learned over her career was just how much better homes looked once they were filled. Even if the decor wasn’t quite up to her tastes, it had a home-y feel to it. She could easily picture Michael’s girls running around or his wife enjoying a glass of wine on the couch. With an easy smile, she responded, “That’s great to hear. Glad it’s working so well for you and your family. I do pride myself on finding good fits for my clients.” And ridding them of any ghosts which was why the slight chill going through her threw her off. No, it couldn’t be. She was just still on edge after Constance’s exorcism. That was all. 

When he mentioned it was just them, Jasmine nodded along and said, “Well, there’s some stuff in here they may enjoy, too.” Then she heard voices and it sounded like they were asking about what she’d brought. Michael had just said they were alone so that couldn’t be right, but in this town, she knew better than to doubt her sense at this point. “Oh, funny. I thought I heard someone. Must be the TV or something,” she blurted out quickly as she craned her neck to get a good look around. It dawned on her she didn’t want to look like an insane person in front of her client, so she returned her focus back to him though she still had that nagging feeling they weren’t alone. Maybe she could sneakily place some wards up before she left. “A mug would be great,” she added, “It’s definitely a day that calls for lots of coffee.” She followed him in toward the living area and her eyes landed on the ghosts. Shit. She needed a way to get Michael away so she could talk to the ghosts she’d heard only a moment ago. “So have you met the neighbors yet? And have you been leaving the faucets dripping with the freeze warning?” Not smooth and very unrelated, but she needed a moment alone here. 

 There was a sudden… shift in the woman, and Michael didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t stop the slightly perplexed look that crept on him as Jasmine mentioned hearing someone, and for a moment, his heart stumbled out of step before he immediately quashed the feeling. The tell-tale heart would fall deaf on his ears. “Must be,” he agreed, the pause before his answer taking perhaps a little too long. Of course it was the TV – what other options were there?

Entering into the living room with the realtor close behind, it was just as expected. There were no blood curdling screams – no quick dashes to the front door that would necessitate a violent, unplanned end on an otherwise unremarkable afternoon in Maine. All was as it should be – the two clearly dead ghosts were visible to no one but the man who had snuffed out their lives like a match. He shook his head at Jasmine’s question about the neighbours, shrugging. “Not yet,” he replied. “Work’s just been throwing me some weird hours to begin with. We’ll invite them all over sometime, make sure they know they can rely on us, that kind of thing. Not that we’re planning on renting forever,” he added with a smile. He paused for a second as he thought about the taps – faucets – as his wife and everyone else in this country called them. It was a good point. “You know what?” He clapped his hands together, rubbing them together. “I’d better go take care of that now before I forget. Been awhile since I lived any place where you have to look out for these things. I’ll be back with the coffees in a minute.” Already on his way out, he glanced behind him before disappearing from view. “You take milk and sugar?”

Meanwhile, on the couch, two pairs of eyes watched the realtor curiously. It was Chase who spoke first, the flaps of his severed neck jiggling as he spoke. “Hey El? Did you just see this lady just look at us? Almost as if we’re actually… here.”

 There was a small sense of relief that washed over Jasmine as he agreed he did in fact need to go get those faucets going to avoid frozen pipes. The ghosts in the room needed to be addressed and she needed to do that without someone else present in the room who would just think she was some sort of psycho talking to herself. “Good call,” she said as nonchalantly as she could given the circumstances, “Black coffee is fine for me.” Healthier than typical cream and sugar as well as being much less complex than her normal coffee shop order. Once he was out of the room, her eyes fell back on the ghosts who were still just chatting it up. 

“That’s because I can see you,” Jasmine responded to the ghosts in the room, “Which means you must be El… and you are?” She looked at the other ghost as she tried to keep this formidable. Working with ghosts required a fair amount of understanding as things worked out much easier for her if they moved on without her intervention. Still, it was odd they were just hanging around here. They definitely weren’t at the property before so she had to wonder if they were connected to Michael somehow. She placed her hands on her hips and asked, “Do you care to tell me why you’re here? I checked this place up and down for ghosts before I even showed the property.” 

 If ghosts could be struck by lightning, then it was as if the pair had just been zapped stone cold the second the realtor revealed she could see them. Twin expressions gaped at the woman, instantly scrubbed of any previous candour. Ellie’s hand tucked around Chase’s beside her and she squeezed it tightly whilst the other flew to her empty chest. It was the teen boy who actually had the wherewithal to speak, and fury stained his features as he quickly rose to his feet, jerking Ellie up beside him. “Because that guy killed us!” he blurted as he gained the wherewithal to speak. “He’s a fucking serial killer!” Wide-eyed, he quickly realised he was speaking much too loud and he sunk down back onto the couch with Ellie in tow. “Chase,” he replied to the woman’s first question, voice still crackling with shock. “My name is Chase Dunlap. This,” he gestured towards Ellie beside him, “– she’s Elizabeth Matarazzo.” The female ghost beside him gave a light shake of her head as she leant forward. “Ellie,” she mouthed, nodding and scrunching her face in a small giddy smile as she squeezed Chase’s hand again. He ignored her. “How the fuck can you see us too? Are… you like him?” he enquired, speaking slowly. “You kill people? Are you a murderer?”

No sooner than the question was out of his mouth did footsteps return to the kitchen just on the other side of the living room. The clatter of mugs filled the air and no more than a few moments later Michael came back through the door, two steaming cups of joe in hand. Setting Jasmine’s down on the coffee table, he nursed his own. “Faucets are now safely dripping away,” he informed the realtor with a smile. “Oh, and thanks for the gift basket, by the way,” he added as he took a sip of his coffee. “You bring out the welcome wagon for all your clients? Or just the ones from out of town?”

Almost immediately, Jasmine wanted to be anywhere else but this living room. How the hell had she ended up alone with an actual serial killer? He’d seemed so normal and not at all like the random bone lady on the internet. Then again, this was White Crest and things were hardly ever what they appeared to be at a surface level. It didn’t change the fact her heart was pounding against her chest. She took a few steps back from the ghosts and quietly muttered, “He what?!” Her palms felt entirely too sweaty and she found she couldn’t stand still. She needed an exit strategy here. She still had her bag on her and the iron rods could come in handy, but she’d come back to that. If she could get more information from these two, maybe she could actually do something to help. “Chase and Ellie. I’d say good to meet you but…” She trailed off before the next question hit her. Her face twisted up with disgust as they implied she was a murderer. “Excuse you,” she retorted with the offense evident in her voice, “I’m an exorcist not a murderer. I save people, not kill them. The only red shoe bottoms I want are Louboutins thank you very much.” 

With the revelation that her client was a serial killer, she’d been too focused on the ghosts. Michael re-entering the room startled her and she jumped a bit on her feet. “Michael, hey!” Smooth, Jas, smooth. She did her best to recover and put some distance between herself and the ghosts. The smile on her face was almost convincing. “Good, frozen pipes can be quite the expensive and lengthy repair,” she explained. At the mention of the gift basket, she answered, “Oh, I usually like to do something for new clients around the holidays. Especially if they’re new to town. Plus, I’m a sucker for kids so you know, I had to give them a little something.” She glanced back at the ghosts before mentally cursing herself. “I totally don’t mean to interrupt your day though, so I’d be happy to take my coffee to go!” 

 Michael’s hand instinctively tightened around the steaming mug of coffee as he watched Jasmine, listening to her carefully. There it was again. That shift. He was practiced enough to detect when a smile wasn’t quite a smile, and the realtor’s was almost Stepford-esque. But why? His gaze slipped to Ellie and Chase, noticing for the first time that they were staring at him like they’d seen a ghost, but when Jasmine prattled on about taking the coffee to go his attention instantly went back to her. Something, he felt, was off here. Wrong, and he was someone who preferred things to be right at all times. “It’s no interruption,” he said evenly, shaking his head. “Besides, don’t have any take-out cups handy. Trying to cut down on waste, you know. Save the trees and all.” Another sip of coffee. Another swallow. “Though if you’ve got somewhere to be, then…”

As he trailed off, it wasn’t Jasmine who had the first opportunity to talk. Silent though the ghosts had been since Michael came back into the room, it was Ellie who chose now to speak up, her face knitted in puzzlement as if she’d just spent the last minute thinkingly deeply about something. “By exorcist…” she began, “doesn’t that mean you kill ghosts? Doesn’t that make you a murderer, too?”

 This was hardly her best performance. Then again, this wasn’t karaoke. Jasmine had never been good at lying and typically saw little point in it. Seeing as she was with a serial killer who had no idea she’d just found out as much, it was better for her to keep a level head here unless she wanted to become his next victim. “Oh good,” she said with some faux cheer, “I know a lot of times people just offer coffee when people stop by for the sake of being polite.” She laughed along with the mention of reducing waste. While she had no qualms with recycling, this was definitely a moment where she was hating the whole green movement. “Being environmentally conscious is always a good thing. I always do my best to recycle myself and you know, not litter. I love the beaches far too much to leave them littered with my leftover hard seltzers.” She took a sip of her coffee and tried to shake the thought it could be deadly coffee. “Not at all,” she responded letting some of the apprehension slip away. “How are you liking it here so far?” 

All was going back to how it should be until Ellie was speaking again. Without realizing it, she shot Ellie a dirty look with an eye roll, “I don’t kill ghosts that’s not how that-” Shit. That was decidedly the absolute worst thing she could have done in that moment. She turned back to Michael with an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me there. I think I must be a little under the weather. I really should go. Just in case I’m coming down with something contagious.” 

 Everything Jasmine was saying was going through one ear and out the other – not even because of the situation at hand, but because Michael really couldn’t care less. He feigned interest, nodding as he pretended to listen to her. Really he was searching her face, trying to pick up on any more cues that she was ill at ease, and when she indicated she had no issue with staying it began to seem as if it were all in his head. Before he got the chance to reply with his thoughts on the town, Ellie interrupted. And for once, it didn’t seem like she was talking to him or even Chase. It was like she was talking to Jasmine.

Michael tensed and then there the realtor was, shooting Ellie a look and responding like she was any old person in the room with them. He no longer felt the heat of the mug, couldn’t taste the bitter aftertaste of the coffee on his tongue. His heart quickened in his chest and his eyes didn’t even need to dart to the lamp on the lounge-side table beside him. He saw it clear as day in his head, saw himself grabbing it, pummelling her face in, tightening the chord around her neck as her feet kicked uselessly into the carpet. If she really could hear the dead, what had they told her? How the fuck was it even possible? But then, maybe he was getting too ahead of himself. Needed some time to think about how far ahead of himself he was getting, at least. He set his coffee down. If there was an issue, he knew how to take care of it. And even if there wasn’t? He could take preventative measures to put his mind at ease. “Should I ask?” he joked. Offering out his hand to take the coffee from her, he smiled reassuringly to make it seem like he wasn’t too weirded out. “No problem,” he said. “Maybe another time? With Risa, I’m sure she’ll want to thank you. Alcohol always comes appreciated in this house, far as she’s concerned.”

Though she kept her face as neutral as she could, Jasmine couldn’t control the way her heartbeat picked up considerably after her slip of words. Her eyes remained fixed on Michael. Based on context clues, she had the feeling he also knew the ghosts were in the room. If he figured she knew something, she didn’t want to chance that she was the next ghost occupying his living room. She reminded herself to take deep breaths and not get too carried away. Then his joking tone came out and she felt herself relax slightly though she was still on high alert. “Probably not,” she said with a nervous chuckle. Then he was mentioning his wife and she wondered if she knew about all of this. The thought alone made her stomach churn, but she smiled brightly anyway. “Of course. That’d be lovely. I do hope she enjoys the wine. I’ll catch you and Risa again soon.” As she left, she was still looking behind her every few steps to make sure she wasn’t followed. All she knew was that she needed to be far away from here before she decided what she was supposed to do with this newfound information about a serial killer in town.

[azozzoni]

Could you write an underwater kiss version for VDS? ☺️

When Jens had agreed to come to the lake, a lake all the way in the Netherlands for God’s sake—he didn’t know why they couldn’t just go to the beach, but apparently Sander’s aunt had a lake house that she never used—when Jens had agreed to this, he’d been pretty sure it would just be a week of drinking with the boys, getting tan on the beach, avoiding looking at Sander’s abs because since when did he care about guys’ abs, skinny dipping at midnight, and rolling his eyes every time he walked in on Robbe and Sander making out in the kitchen.

He hadn’t expected there to be someone staying in the house next door, a couple someones, but Jens was really only interested in the pale, skinny guy who he’d caught eyeing him a few times when they were both on the shore.

His name was Lucas, the guy with curls that fell in front of his eyes and wore bright floral shirts halfway unbuttoned down his chest. Where Sander was nice to look at, Jens had admitted to himself, Lucas did something completely different to his stomach when his eyes followed the line of his collar down his torso.

Jens had managed to talk to Lucas a few times, caught him and his friend coming out of the house one night and invited them both over for drinks around a bonfire they’d made in the backyard. As the flames flickered over Lucas’ face, Lucas’ careful smile, Jens could only lick his lips and try to keep up the conversation with the other boys, if only to stop himself from thinking of what he and Lucas could do if they were alone.

Lucas never said anything about the way Jens watched him, only laughed around his beer, offered a snarky remark to something his friend said about the last time they’d come to the lake.

“You guys come here a lot?” Jens heard himself ask, ask only Lucas, not everyone else in the circle.

Lucas’ eyes slid to him, leaning over to hear Jens better, and his shirt gaped open slightly. Jens very carefully did not let his gaze slide to Lucas’ chest.

“Not for a while,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s been a long year.”

“Tell me about it,” Jens replied, glancing at the rest of the boys. His eyes fell on Robbe sitting in Sander’s lap, Sander’s chin tucked over his shoulder. When he looked back at Lucas, he found him watching Robbe and Sander the same, a slight frown there.

Jens talked to Lucas more after that night, spent one night staying up until three AM on the porch, just the two of them, passing a joint back and forth, talking about nothing important. When Lucas had finally gone back to his house, Jens could have sworn he hesitated a little, smiled back at him before he turned.

Jens invited him swimming the next day, after a few fitful hours of sleep, had to stop himself from staring at Lucas soaking wet, water dripping down his collar bone as he came out of the lake.

“Are you okay?” Robbe asked when Jens shook his head sharply, as if to rid himself of any strange thoughts taking shape there.

“It’s hot,” was all Jens said as he rose from the low-slung chair, peeling off his shirt and tossing it behind him. “I’m gonna go in.”

“Okay,” Robbe said simply.

“Nice shorts,” Lucas said as Jens waded into the water. The rest of the guys were back on the shore, drinking beer or asleep, skin getting redder by the minute.

“Same,” he said, nodding at Lucas’ swimming trunks covered in little blue whales.

Lucas’ grin tripped something in Jens’ chest, hot and wanting and confused.

“There’s a little cove around the corner,” Lucas said. “Kes and I used to go there and hide when we were little.”

“You sure it’s still there?” Jens asked, and he didn’t check back to see if anyone was watching him. There was no reason for anyone to be.

A second passed before Lucas nodded, meeting Jens’ gaze, chewing on his bottom lip as though maybe he was nervous. “Let’s go see.”

Jens didn’t second-guess why he was so willing to follow Lucas, to glide into the water and swim with him out of sight of the boys, around a corner to a grassy knoll, the shore rising up in a steep wall to form a small cove. Lake weeds lapped up against the edge of the cove, and Lucas grabbed on a tree branch protruding into the water.

Swimming over, Jens grabbed on too. The water was unusually deep for being near the shore here. Sunlight filtered through the tall grass on the ledge, sparkling off the water, and Jens felt something deep clench in his stomach as he watched Lucas glance around, as though remembering something.

“Kes and I used to come here all the time,” he said after a minute, glancing back at Jens. “Things were so much easier then.”

Jens smiled, water lapping up against his bare chest. The lake wasn’t exactly warm, but compared to the heat of the sun, it was refreshing. It was nice to be here, with Lucas, alone in the little shady cove, close enough to see just how blue Lucas’ eyes really were, to count the moles on his skin, memorize the shape of his ears, red at the tips as if sunburned. Lucas’ hair was drying already, curls messy and out of place.

“What changed?” he asked, and Lucas swished a hand through the water, gentle, careful.

“Nothing,” he said slowly. “Everything.” He shrugged, glancing up at Jens. “We used to have competitions, see who could hold their breath the longest.”

“I bet you always won,” Jens said, and Lucas smiled.

“Of course I did.”

For a second, Jens just watched Lucas. He could stop his gaze from traveling down his long neck, to the water lapping at the dip above his collar bone, how the water distorted the rest of his chest, vanishing into darkness. Jens had never really thought about this, about what he might do if he found himself alone with a guy like Lucas.

He wasn’t even sure what made Lucas different from every other guy he’d ever met. It couldn’t just be the way he smiled at Jens, teased his friends so easily, met Jens’ eyes across the porch, fingers brushing as they passed the joint back and forth. It was something else that Jens couldn’t explain, an entirely new feeling as they held onto the branch, less than a foot from each other, the only sounds the chirping of birds in the trees, wind rustling the leaves, water lapping at the shore.

“I bet I can beat you,” he said finally, and Lucas’ eyebrow shot up.

“You’re confident.”

“I never lose,” Jens lied, grinning at Lucas, who laughed.

“We’ll see,” he said, pushing away from the branch and treading water. “On three. One, two, three!”

The water was cold as Jens plunged down, murky when he forced his eyes open. Lucas was across from him, mouth shut tightly, hair floating in the water.

It might have been an eternity or maybe it was only fifteen seconds as Jens watched Lucas, fifteen seconds before he swam forward and pressed his lips to Lucas’.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it, as though they were safe under water somehow, as if when they surfaced, they could choose to ignore it. Lucas could choose to ignore it and Jens could somehow convince himself that it had something to do with the water and the lake and the fact that he hadn’t hooked up with a girl all summer. Then he wouldn’t have to think about the fact that he apparently founds guys just as attractive as girls, or at least, found Lucas as attractive. Had the same reaction when faced with his bare skin as he had Jana way back when.

Lucas didn’t reel away when Jens kissed him, maybe even kissed back but it was hard to tell in the water, stayed under water for a second longer before pushing away, resurfacing, and Jens followed.

Panting, water dripping down his face, Jens kept his gaze on Lucas. He could make a joke here, easily sweep it away, but he didn’t want to when Lucas smiled.

“Guess you won,” he said simply, and Jens’ heart beat faster as Lucas came closer.

“Told you.” He hoped it sounded a lot more confident than he felt, taking a breath as Lucas swallowed.

“But you definitely cheated,” Lucas said, watching a drip of water slide down Jens’ shoulder.

“Cheated?” Jens repeated, opening his mouth to argue, but he didn’t get it out when Lucas kissed him this time, lips warm and soft, and he forgot about anything he was going to say. He forgot about everything with Lucas all around him, arms twined around his neck, bare chest pressed to his, tongue sliding in his mouth.

Fuck, this was what he’d been wanting all week, since he’d first caught sight of Lucas lounging around in the chairs behind his house, preppy sunglasses perched on top of his head, sunlight gleaming off his skin.

It was the first guy Jens had ever kissed, the first guy he’d ever had pressed against him like this, and he wanted more. He wanted his hands in Lucas’ hair, chasing his tongue, mouthing kisses along his jaw until Lucas whined for more. He’d never wanted that before.

Lucas’ lips were red when they finally broke apart, a distance voice shouting something Jens couldn’t quite make out through the haze of desire as Lucas slid back in the water.

“I think the guys are looking for us,” he said, and Jens frowned as he heard what might have been his name.

“Hey,” he said as Lucas moved further away. “What are you doing tonight?”

Lucas smiled after a second, almost shy. “I don’t know.”

Jens hesitated. “The guys were going to go into town for drinks. I could tell them I’ve got a headache and stay here.”

It was a second before Lucas’ smile widened and he came back to Jens, leaning in to press a soft, slow kiss to his mouth that made it all the more harder for Jens to consider leaving this place.

“Then I’ll see you tonight,” Lucas said, even though his cheeks were pink, unable to hide his grin as he pushed away from Jens and swam off toward the shore. Jens let him go ahead, taking a breath and biting down his grin. This definitely hadn’t been what he’d expected from a week at the lake, but he would take it, whatever it was.

[bellemorte180]

Wanderlust Chapter Seven

Klaus raced through Mystic Falls, ignoring every traffic light along the way. The lights on his SUV were flashing, indicating that the few people in Mystic Falls who were still on the road that they needed to move out of his way. It was a short drive, but it felt as though it was taking an eternity. All he could hear was Caroline’s terrified voice, calling him; stating that someone was there to hurt her.

He drove with one hand; the other was busy dialing Marcel for the twelfth time since leaving the police station. As the other calls had done, his phone rang a few times before clicking to voicemail. Klaus scowled at his partner’s ability to sleep through anything. He always envied that trait in Marcel, but now he wanted nothing more than for Marcel to wake up and answer his phone.

He cursed his partners name as he tossed his mobile phone roughly onto the passenger’s side seat. His nails dug into the steering wheel; all manner of horrors passing through his mind. Having chased serial killers, pedophiles and the worst of mankind for years gave Klaus enough ammunition to torture himself with. He imagined every single way Caroline could be tortured at that very minute and it was clouding his mind.

Caroline was not just any ordinary victim in a case.

Klaus slammed the SUV into park as he pulled up to Caroline’s house, grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pants pocket. Several black SUV’s were surrounding it as well as several other police cars were stationed outside; their lights flashing. He did not see an ambulance which soothed him; but only just slightly. Agents were standing outside the home conversing with officers; all eyes turned to him the moment he slammed his car into park. He saw two of the agents who were stationed to guard her house that evening and a fresh new wave of hot fury coursed through him. Klaus climbed out of the SUV and slammed the driver’s side door behind him. He all but stormed up towards the two agents and by the look on their faces, they knew Klaus was five seconds away from laying into them.

“What the fuck happened?” Klaus hissed out through his teeth. His darted between them as he took in their worried appearance. The younger agent, Joshua Rosza, was relatively new; having only graduated from the academy the year before. He was still on a probationary period and Klaus, who had no opinion on the young man before, decided that he was the most disappointing agent he has ever met; refusing to consider the bias he was feeling at that moment.

Yet, it was agent Thierry Vanchure that Klaus was most infuriated at. Marcel had worked with Vanchure before transferring to the BAU. Marcel spoke highly of him and Klaus had worked with him on occasion. While they were never particularly friendly with one another; Klaus could at least appreciate that Vanchure was a competent agent.

“We heard a crash coming from inside followed by a few gunshots and her dog barking like crazy. We both ran immediately inside to see the back window of Caroline’s kitchen shattered by a rock. The assailant shattered the window before taking off through the neighbor’s yard. I chased after him while Josh called it in. He was fast and darted into the woods before I caught him.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“No.” Vanchure shook his head. Klaus cursed out a hiss, hoping that at the very least, Vanchure would have been able to get a good look at the killer. “He had his head covered by a ski mask. He was tall, around your height and lean build. He was fast. Very fast and knew where he was going.”

“Of course, he knew where he was going! This is his home turf. He has the advantage.” Klaus muttered in annoyance. His mind was whirling, wondering what purpose the killer would have to simply shatter Caroline’s window and take off. He obviously knew, if not before, now that Caroline’s home is being guarded. Klaus did not know if that made him feel any better or worse. “How is she?”

“Shaken up. Her mother was staying the night and was out of bed with her gun drawn before I got inside.” Rosza replied, avoiding Klaus’s eye. If Klaus intimidated Rosza then Klaus was convinced that the young man would not make it very far in the FBI. “Her mother is with her now.” Rosza shot Vanchure a concerned look before turning back to Klaus. “There was another note. It was tied to the rock he threw through the window.”

“What?” Klaus snapped; his attention diverted from Caroline’s wellbeing for a moment. Rosza reached into his black suit jacket and pulled out a small bag. Much like the letter Caroline received previously, it was typed on white computer paper. Unlike the previous letter, there were a few tares on the edges, and it was crinkled; most likely from being tied to the rock. Klaus snatched the offending bag and read the note.

Caroline,

I see how you look at him. He will only hurt you. He will take you away from here, from me. I won’t let him. You’re mine. He is not one of us. He is not from out little community. He will take you away. I can’t lose you.

What is it that you see in him? What is it that makes you want to flee from me? Were we not happy? I gave you everything you needed. I gave you a home.

You’ll come home soon.

Your only friend.

“Talk to the neighbors. I want to know everything they saw or heard; if anything.” Klaus all but crumpled the note in his hand; listening to the crinkle of the bag as he did so. He handed the note to Vanchure and stormed up the pathway towards Caroline’s porch. Two officers that Klaus had met since he began working on this case stood on the porch. They nodded to Klaus and allowed him to pass.

Inside he only saw Liz and Caroline. Caroline was curled up into a ball, holding onto Enzo as though he was a life raft, while Liz paced around the living room. Caroline’s eyes followed her mother everywhere she went; as though she wanted to ensure that her mother was still there and that she was not alone. Enzo’s eyes shot up, sensing him first but he did not move or bark; he stayed directly with Caroline.

The moment Klaus stepped into the room, both of the Forbes woman’s eyes snapped to them; but Klaus did not pay Liz much mind. His focus was on Caroline, whose shoulder’s slumped when he came through the door. Klaus looked her over, searching for any sign of injury. Other than red eyes, a tired expression and her body ready for a fight or flight response, Caroline appeared well enough. Not caring about her mother’s opinion, Caroline stood from the armchair she had been resting on and walked over to Klaus; wrapping her arms around his middle; Enzo padding softly behind her.

Klaus immediately felt the tension leave his body. He was still angry and furious, but the feel of her in his arms was enough to quell those emotions; even if it was only temporary. Caroline buried her face into his chest and Klaus held her clothes. She did not cry but he suspected that she had already shed enough tears that evening. Klaus turned to look at Liz, who was already dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, ready to take on the world. Her eyes appeared tired and worn, her hair completely unkept.

However, it was her expression as she watched Caroline hug Klaus. While Liz had never been a member of the FBI, she knew that this was not typical behavior of an agent who was working a case. She said nothing and Klaus was unsure if it was because Caroline did not need her mother nagging at her or if it was because she thought that Klaus would be good for her. Klaus had hoped it was the latter but had a feeling it was the former.

“What happened?” Klaus asked Liz over Caroline’s head; who had gone very still in his arms. Klaus hated the knowledge that Caroline was terrified; she may not be crying at that exact moment, but he knew she had been close to her breaking point earlier.

“I was in the guest room. I’m a light sleeper but I heard something outside. I grabbed my gun and by the time I reached the kitchen. I heard the crash of the window and saw him; his face was covered with a ski mask. I didn’t think, I just fired.” Liz nodded her head and if Klaus squinted, he could see a few faint bullet holes in the wall. “The bastard got away. Don’t even think I hit him.”

Klaus kissed the top of Caroline’s head lightly and pulled away from her. He didn’t even register that he had kissed her hairline until he was across the room, standing in the kitchen looking at the bullet holes in the wall and the glass shards on the ground. The rock that was used to break the window was lying on the small kitchen table that Klaus could tell Caroline never used.

“Did you touch this?” Klaus asked, pointing at the rock. Liz nodded, telling Klaus everything he needed to know. Liz read the letter; meaning Caroline most likely did as well, and that Liz’s prints would most likely be on the rock. “We will have to have it processed. Hopefully he left prints but at this point I doubt it.”

He bent down to look at the broken glass and then back towards the shattered window. He pulled out his phone and took a few pictures of the glass on the wood floor before moving towards the window. He stood and carefully walked over the window. He noticed that the screen on the outside of the house was cut. If the killer wanted to, he could have easily gotten through the window. Liz most likely would have heard him but if Caroline was alone; he could have easily attacked her.

Seeing the cut screen told Klaus a few things. The first was that the killer knew Liz was inside; which only confirmed the suspicion that he was watching Caroline. The second was that he never intended to break in, but instead to show that he could but chose not to. Instead, he wanted them to know that he was there. And the third was the message he literally threw through the window.

He knew that there was something between Klaus and Caroline.

“Mom?” Caroline replied, her arms wrapped around her as though she was holding herself together. She was terrified and Klaus could not blame her in the slightest. He saw her swallow, but she held her head up high. “Your phone is buzzing.”

Both Klaus and Liz turned towards the buzzing phone on the kitchen table. Liz picked it up and scrolled through it; her brow creasing in concern. Klaus stood at the look on her face and walked over to her.

“Is everything alright?”

“Gunshots were heard on the other side of town.” Liz bit her lip. “It was probably just Mr. Wilkerson shooting at cats again.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration and annoyance. Klaus could see the pent up energy and anger that she was feeling. She needs to get out and take that frustration out on someone. If she stayed, there was the potential for her to snap at Caroline; and neither of them deserved the confrontation that would blow up because of it.

“Go.” Klaus replied. Both Caroline and Liz looked at him as though he had several heads. “Go take care of whatever it is you’re being summoned for. I highly doubt he is coming back tonight but I’ll stay here with Caroline.” Liz seemed lost in thought, debating on what she should do. “If something happens, you will be my first call. Besides, I’m not leaving either way.”

“Okay. But call me immediately.” Klaus nodded but saw Caroline’s small smile over her mother’s head. Klaus knew that Caroline was getting suffocated by the constant supervision and Klaus could see that she was grateful for that Liz would be taking a few hours away; letting Caroline process.

Liz gathered her badge and bag, heading out the door. Caroline promised to call her if anything happened immediately, but Klaus had a feeling that the killer wouldn’t come back the same night; it just did not fit in the profile that him and Marcel built for him. Regardless, Klaus had every intention of sleeping on her couch.

As Caroline said goodbye to her mother, Klaus took a few more photos of the wall; the one with Liz’s bullet hole in it and a few of the rock that was thrown in the window. He saw Caroline lean against the front door after she snapped it shut behind her mother. After a few second of deep breaths, Caroline walked over to the small closet located near her bedroom door. She pulled out a broom and dustpan. Klaus took the broom from her hand and motioned to her cast; causing her to just roll her eyes.

Caroline watched as Klaus cleaned up the broken glass and tossed the shards into the waste bin under the sink. He asked if she had any cardboard or plastic sheeting that she was not using. Caroline nodded and went into her bedroom to pull out a large shoe box that held some kind of boot in it at one point. Klaus got a very brief flashback of Rebekah and her shoe habits for a second. He gave her small smirk and she narrowed her eyes at him; daring him to say anything at all. Klaus almost considered teasing her, just to see her smile and to shift her from the fear he knew was lurking under her skin.

He boarded up the window the best he could with the few tools he had, knowing full well that Caroline was standing beside him, biting her lip; probably thinking that she could have done it better. Her perfectionist side was showing, and it made Klaus tempted to skew the board such ever so slightly to get a rise out of her, however given the shock she received that night, he decided that she deserved his kindness.

“Thank you.” Caroline smiled at him once he stapled the file edge of the board. He nodded and set the heavy-duty stapler that he was not surprised at all that she owned one. Caroline seemed to be prepared for almost everything. Almost. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his middle; resting her head against his heart. As though on instinct, Klaus pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head again; neither seemed startled at the show of affection this time. “For fixing the window, even if the cardboard is crooked.”

“Of course.” Klaus muffled a laugh.

“And for sending mom away. I love her and I get that she is worried, but I just need a break. She was pacing and hoovering. The last thing I want to do is snap or lash out at her, but I feel so pent up.” Caroline told him, pressing into his chest as though it was the most natural place for her to be. Klaus was startled at how right it felt to hold her; given the fact that he met her almost two weeks previously.

“You’re scared and you every right to be. If you did lash out, she would understand.” Caroline snorted and she pulled away from him; causing Klaus to almost groan at the loss of her. She sighed and ran her hands through her hair before heading towards her sofa; Enzo padding along after her, curling up at her feet when she sat down. Klaus followed suit and sat down beside her. “You shouldn’t let yourself get bottled up.”

“I know.” Caroline snapped harshly but closed her eyes afterwards. “Sorry. It’s not that they do not try. Bonnie practically took it upon herself to become my therapist and while mom tries, she isn’t the warmest person. She loves me and I know she will do anything for me but talking has never been our strong point.”

“She is a very formidable woman.” Klaus told Caroline. “And strong. I’ve seen woman fall to pieces when their children are missing, no matter how old they are. Your mother never once lost faith that you were alive. That takes a special kind of strength that I admire her for.” Klaus shifted on the couch and pushed a curl behind Caroline’s ear. “A strength I see in you.”

“Thank you.” Caroline blushed but never took her eyes off of him. She reached out and took his hand into hers. She flips over his hand; pressing the back of his hand into the grey couch while his palm is facing upward. He started tracing the lines on his palm, almost mesmerized by their design. “What about your mom? What is she like?”

Klaus froze under her touch, something Caroline noticed. A memory of being held by his mother as a small child surfaced and it took everything in Klaus not to lash out at the memory. Caroline shifted in her seat and pulled him closer; causing Klaus to look at her. The anger thawed ever so slightly, and he felt stone slowly begin to chip away at the wall he built around himself. In that moment, Klaus knew that he could trust Caroline with the world.

“She was beautiful. Kind. Loving.”

“Was?”

“She was murdered.” Klaus swallowed tightly and turned to look at Caroline, whose eyes had grown wide. There were tears pooling in them; a sight Klaus hated to see. She lifted his hands hand brought them to her lips; hoping to provide some semblance of comfort. “She was the best of us all and yet, she was taken from us to soon.”

“What happened? When?”

“It was just over twenty years ago.” A spark of understanding flashed in Caroline’s eyes as she did the math in her head, but she said nothing, allowing Klaus to continue with his story. “My parents fought all the time and their relationship was not exactly loving. We were all used to their screaming matches and hearing our mother cry behind closed doors. My father was strict and expected so much out of us, and when we displeased him, he let us know.”

“He beat you.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Caroline gave him a look of such compassion, but he could see the anger lingering beneath the surface. She was angry at the imagine of a child Klaus, suffering under Mikael’s fists. Beating after beating was never enough to satisfy him and nothing Klaus did was ever enough to please him.

“All of us. My mother always got the worst of it. She would intervene as often as possible; jumping in to protect her children. No matter what it meant for her, she always stepped in.” Caroline’s hand tightened in his, urging him to continue. “When Finn, my eldest brother, turned eighteen he fled the home. None of us could really blame him. He was in love with a young girl by the name of Sage. My father hated her. Called her a whore.”

“He left to be with her?”

“Yeah.” Klaus nodded. “Like I said, none of us blamed him. He promised that if things got bad, we would always have a place with him and Sage. A year later, after Sage turned eighteen, they eloped. Finn used his inheritance to finance the wedding and a small apartment for them. Only Sage’s parents were at the wedding.”

“I take it didn’t go over well at home?” Caroline and that caused Klaus to give a bitter laughter. He shook his head and Caroline’s shoulder’s slumped in sadness. She loved hearing Klaus’s laugh, remembering the first time she heard it but this was something hallow and lacked the life she come to associate with Klaus.

“Absolutely not.” Klaus paused, letting the memory sink over him. “When my parents found out, Mikael was furious. My mother, not so much. She was hurt that Finn didn’t tell her but not angry for marrying Sage. Mikael, my father, was the opposite. He was incessant. Elijah, who was seventeen, couldn’t handle the arguing. He always left when they started fighting. A fact that he says he regrets to this day.”

“He was seventeen. He was kid. He can’t blame himself for not being able to handle it. Just like Finn. He was running away from a toxic home.” The amount of empathy in her tone for the brother he was closet with made his heart leap; even though she had never met him. Klaus held out his arms for her to shift into his embrace. Caroline leaned forward, resting her head on his chest and Klaus wrapped his arms around her; just holding her bringing him the strength he needed to continue on with his story. He leaned down and kissed the crown of her head again.

“I know. It is a conversation we have had many times over the years.” Klaus whispered. “That night as my parents fought, my mother had a couple glasses wine. I think it was how she gathered her bravery. Kol and I snuck down the stairs to listen to them. Rebekah, who was only eight years old at the time, was hiding under her bed; but Kol and I were braver, and stupid. He is only two years younger than me and the trouble we used to get up to as children.”

“Kol sounds like the typical middle child.”

“Kol is pure chaos, plain and simple.” Caroline gave a small chuckle. “We listened to them argue about Finn, but it soon turned to their own marriage. Apparently, when my mother found out she was pregnant with me, she left my father. She packed up both Finn and Elijah and ran. Mikael tracked her down and brought her back.”

“Seriously?!” Caroline hissed, looking back at him. “She was a human being. If she wanted to leave, she should have been able to leave. Forcing someone to stay in a relationship against their will is a form of imprisonment and your mother, all of you, deserved better than that!”

“I know.” Klaus pacified her. “I know, Sweetheart and trust me, I have asked myself a thousand times why she never left sooner.” He pulled her back to him, still feeling the anger bubbling inside her; something he knew was stemming from her abusive relationship with Damon and being held prisoner in that cell. “However, there was something about her leaving Mikael that he didn’t know.”

“What?”

“She had an affair.” Caroline tiled her head upward. “She was seeing a man who was trying to get her out. He promised to take care of her and her sons. When she fell pregnant again, she finally found the courage to leave. When Mikael dragged her back and she decided to stay, her lover washed his hands of her.” He swallowed. “I was the product of that affair.”

“And Mikael didn’t know? What about her lover?”

“No. They both thought that I was Mikael’s son and Esther, my mother, ensured that Mikael believed it.” A look passed between them, both knowing what Esther would have done to ensure that Mikael believed that Klaus was his son. “My mother decided to rub it in his face that night. He saw red. Grabbed the first thing he could find, which was Kol’s baseball bat, and he beat her. Over and over again until she stopped breathing.”

“Klaus.” Caroline sat up and moved so she was straddling his hips. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face into his neck. Klaus pulled her close, reveling in the feel of her and the comfort it offered him; even if he could feel her tears against his skin. “What happened next?”

“I told Kol to grab Rebekah and run. For the first and last time, my brother did as he was told. He took Rebekah, who was screaming in terror, having heard what was going on downstairs, and ran to the neighbors. They called the police.”

“And you?”

“I tried to save my mum.” His voice was raw and broken, the endearment of his mother changed. In his mind he always referred to Esther as ‘his mother’ because it was easier than remember her as ‘mum’ the loving woman who always cared for him. “I tried to intervene, even if it was too late, her breathing was shallow, and I learned later that her collapsed lung would have been beyond saving if the paramedics got there in time.” He took a deep breath and pressed on, not being able to stop now. “The sight of me made Mikael even angrier. Here I was, a boy he thought was his son and one that he hated, turned out to be nothing more than his wife’s bastard child.”

“You are so much more than that.” Caroline hissed, pulling her head out of his shoulder and glaring at him. Her face was flushed with anger and her eyes red with the tears that were flowing down her face. Klaus placed his hands on her cheeks, flattered that those tears were for him, but it pained him to know that he also caused them. “You are a wonderful man. A man who has so much good in him even though you believe there is nothing but darkness. You are not a bastard.”

“How is it that you know me so well, in such a short period of time?” Klaus whispered, not expecting an answer. Their eyes locked with one another; neither willing to pull away. Their foreheads touched and their breath mingled. “It was what he told me, over and over again as he beat me with the same baseball bat, he used to murder her with.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“What happened after?”

“The next thing I knew was waking up in the hospital. Elijah was beside me, sleeping on the window seat. He refused to leave. He blamed himself for not being there. He was the one that told me our mum was dead. The police had arrived in time to stop him from killing me. They took him into custody. He was charged with murder and since England does not have the death penalty, he is serving a life sentence.”

“Yeah, well, England’s laws are stupid.” Klaus snorted at the comment, needing to hear such levity in that moment, even if Caroline had not meant it to be humors. She narrowed her eyes at him and almost seemed offended. “It’s not funny.”

“I know. I know. Sorry.”

“What happened to you guys? You were all so young.”

“Well, we moved into Sage’s parents’ home for a short time. I mean, my siblings did. I stayed in the hospital recovering. Finn used the rest of his trust fund to put a down payment on a house, one they still live in, and took custody of us. Even though he was only nineteen.” Klaus smirked. “He just married and suddenly they became parents to three teenage boys and a little girl. I guess it was good practice for when they started having their own children.”

“You told me that you left England for college.” Caroline gave Klaus a small smile and Klaus nodded. “Have you been back at all?”

“To England? No.” Klaus shook his head, confirming Caroline’s suspicions. “The closets I came was when Elijah got married a few years ago but his wife is Bulgarian and wanted to have the wedding in Bulgaria. It was the first time I had been back to Europe since. I considered going back recently because they just had their first baby. A girl. Nadia.”

“Uncle Klaus.” Caroline smiled widely and Klaus chuckled. “You should go. Spend time with your new niece and reconnect with you siblings.” She leaned forward and kissed his hair lightly, thinking on everything Klaus had ever told her about his siblings. “I know you said that they come to visit you, especially Kol and Rebekah but it is not the same as you going home.”

“It is not that simple.”

“I never said it was.” Caroline replied back. “You told me that you were doing this job to find answers and that it was form of punishment but let me tell you something and I want you to look at him.” Caroline took Klaus’s face in her hands and started directly at him. “Niklaus Mikaelson, none of what happened to you is your fault. You did nothing wrong and you do not deserve to continue to punish yourself for something you did not do. Mikael is an evil man and I hope he dies a slow and painful death in prison. But that does not mean you should force yourself into a darkness when there is so much light in the world.”

It was like a damn broke inside of him. Staring at Caroline, her eyes pouring into the very fabric of his soul; searching for every secret he had kept hidden. For twenty years, Klaus sought answers and relief to something that he never thought he would find. He ran from his home and built a life trying to undo everything Mikael had done to his family, and yet never succeeding; finding a shadow of Mikael in each and every monster he took down.

And yet Caroline could shine a light in his own personal darkness only moments after hearing the story that haunted Klaus for two decades. Elijah, Finn and every single one of his siblings tried to tell them that he had done nothing wrong, but he could never escape the feeling of that bat beating down upon him; he could never escape Mikael’s fury.

Klaus pulled Caroline down to him, crashing his lips to hers; deciding that words were not enough to convey what her understanding meant to him. Caroline, who was taken by surprise at first, molded into the kiss easily. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, being mindful of her cast. Klaus pressed her body to him, needing to feel her as close to him as possible.

Caroline’s tongue sought entrance at his lips; a request Klaus was eager to grant. His lips parted and his tongue mingled with hers. The kiss was passionate but sweet all at the same time. Klaus’s hands trailed over Caroline’s body, stopping at the small patch of skin lingering between her pajama shorts and her sweatshirt. Suddenly, Klaus realized that Caroline was in nothing more than her pajamas, a fact he overlooked due to his mind being preoccupied.

They broke apart; both breathing heavily. Klaus began to trace small circles on the skin his fingers were touching; seeking permission to go further. Caroline nodded ever so slightly and crashed her lips back to his. Klaus’s hands slid up underneath her sweatshirt and tank top, feeling the length of her back. Caroline moaned into his mouth as she grinded down onto his lap; feeling how hard he was beneath her. She rotated her hips, causing Klaus to moan.

Klaus pulled her as close as he could to him and shifted them, so she was lying back on the sofa and Klaus hoovered over her. Caroline spread her legs in order to make room for him, wrapping them around his waist. She tugged on his blonde curls with her one good hand, pressing him deeper into the kiss. His one hand spread out across her stomach while the other braced himself against the armrest for leverage; his hips grinding into Caroline’s covered core.

Slowly, Klaus inched his hand upward; letting his fingertips trace over her skin. His fingers graced her bottom of her breasts and he traced the curve of it. Caroline whimpered into the kiss, one that neither were willing to break. He moved up the side of her breast and his nail dragged across her nipple; causing Caroline’s back to arch and for her hips to thrust against him.

Klaus broke away from her lips and began trailing a long line of kissing down her throat. Caroline tiled her head, allowing him better access as he sucked on her pulse point. His hand was massaging her breast while Caroline’s nails pulled and dug at his scalp; leaving scratch marks in her wake. Klaus thrusted against her again, causing her to whither beneath him.

“Klaus.” Caroline moaned out, clouding Klaus’s mind further. They were heading into dangerous territory and they both knew it. Neither one could stope the attraction and desire they felt for the other nor the trust that they were building but was it too soon? Caroline was in a dark place; a place Klaus had been living in for years. He did not want to drag her down with him, but instead, restore that light she had inside of her. But the feeling of her skin against his and hearing her desire only made him want her more. “Don’t stop.”

Caroline’s wish however, was denied when a faint buzzing down came from between them. Klaus pulled away from her neck, looking down between them where his phone was in ringing form inside his pocket; noticing the bulge in his pants. He groaned and pulled away from Caroline; whose hair was in complete disarray and her lips swollen from his kisses. Klaus could not help but feel overly proud at the sight, knowing that he was the reason why she looked that way.

“Sorry.” Klaus muttered, Caroline only nodding as her eyes drifted over him unapologetically. Their gaze met and they both knew where the night, or early morning, would have taken them. It was completely unprofessional and something Klaus had never done before, crossing that line, but seeing her and knowing that she wanted him too, Klaus could not bring himself to regret it. Klaus reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone that had gone silent. He pulled up the missed call, expecting it to be Marcel, but was surprised. “It was your mom.”

“What?” Caroline sat up straighter, watching Klaus dial Liz’s number, who picked up immediately.

“Sorry Liz, I ran to the bathroom.” Klaus blurted out, not being able to fully look at Caroline’s questioning gaze; a smirk playing on her lips. Klaus knew full well that her mind was replaying their tryst on the couch only moments earlier. His mind was pulled from his thoughts when Liz’s voice registered something in Klaus’s brain. “Liz, say that again.”

“The gun shots that were heard across town were not from Mr. Wilkerson.” Liz told him in a sad tone. “There was a break in at your motel.”

“What?”

“You need to come down here, immediately.” It was a command, but it was not harsh or cold. There was a hint of sympathy behind her words that filled Klaus’s stomach with dread. There were gunshots and a breaking at his hotel. His partner, Marcel, was not answering his phone. “Klaus?”

“Where is Marcel?”

“Klaus, you need-“

“Liz. Tell me. Now.” Liz didn’t reply. Caroline stood from the couch, realizing something was very wrong and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Liz, where is Marcel?”

“I’m sorry Klaus. I’m so sorry.”

“No. No. Don’t.”

“I’m so sorry. Your partner has been murdered.”

[ficklefics]

Friends Like These - Chapter Twenty-Eight: Crashed

To escape without disaster would be too easy. 

Jerome Valeska x Harleen Quinzel

SERIES MASTERLIST ~ MASTERLIST ~ CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Taglist: @hexqueensupreme​

Chapter Warnings: Violence, injury

“You should probably wait out of sight.”

Jerome and I are standing outside of my parents’ house. The lights are on – I just hope they’re still there. That I’m not too late.

“What? I’m not allowed to meet your parents?” He scoffs, but he does retreat into the shadows of the trees that line the sidewalk. I steady myself and walk up the steps. As my hand wraps around the door handle Jerome calls out –

“You’ll be fine!” I can’t tell if he’s serious or joking. Maybe there isn’t ever actually a line with him. I shake my head, ignore him, and try the handle.

The door’s unlocked. A shiver of fear runs through my body as I open it. Please don’t be too late. Please. Jerome watches from a distance. I don’t need to turn around to know that. A shadow passes the window and I burst in. My mom screams and drops the bag she’s carrying. “It’s me!” As soon as she hears my voice her arms are around me. “Harleen!” I think she might be crying. I pry her away from me and hold her at arms-length. “Thank goodness you’re-” “There’s no time,” I pick up the bag and begin searching for my father. “You need to go, now. We’re already pushing it.” He’s in the living room, checking a hastily made list. “Come on.” “We need to wait for Archie to get here.” “No.” I struggle not to shout but I don’t need to create any more stress right now. “You can drive yourself for once.” “But-” “No buts!” I bite my tongue immediately, but it’s made them pay attention. “Now get in the car.”

I grab another bag on my way out and head to the car parked in front of the house. My parents follow me with their own bags. Luckily I can’t see Jerome. Once the bags are stowed away my father opens the back door and stands, waiting for me to get in.

“I’m not coming with you.” My mother steps out of the car and gapes at me. “What do you mean?” “I need to fix this mess. I can’t let them get away with this.” “I won’t let you stay.” “You can’t stop me.” I slam the door from my father’s hand. “Now go.” “Harleen-” He starts, but I don’t have time for a debate. “Dad, just go!” “I’m proud of you.” The words shock me. In eighteen years I don’t think I’ve ever heard that. I don’t quite know how to respond. “I’ll let you know when it’s all over.” It’s all I can say. But I think he understands. “Goodbye.” He gets into the car, turns the ignition, and they’re driving away from me. Left all alone in Gotham City. My dream come true.

I wait until the lights disappear before I let myself fall. All the tension releases from my shoulders and I practically collapse against the wall. A shaky breath makes its way through me and I need to bite my lip to stop myself from bursting into tears.

This is all too much. This isn’t supposed to be my life. I can’t do this. Why me? It’s not fair. Not fair. Not fai-

“Harls,” Jerome’s voice startles me. I swipe hastily at the pooling tears in the corner of my eyes and turn to him. “We should probably get going.” “Yeah.” I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. No more crying. “You alright?” He asks incredulously, head tilted. “I’m fine.” “Sure you are.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “You get so sappy over your parents. I really just don’t get it.” He stares off into the distance where the car vanished. “They’re good people.” “And?” “Just shut up.” I shake my head at him. Almost relaxed. I stretch, take a moment to breathe now that the urgency is gone.

Or not.

“We need to go.” Jerome grabs my arm and starts pulling me towards the bike. I hiss at the pain emanating from his grip and try to force him away. “What are you doing?!” He doesn’t answer but just points at the three black cars driving towards us. “Shit.”

We leap onto the bike, Jerome behind me again, not even taking the time to put helmets on before I’m veering away from the sidewalk and away from the house. The cars rev behind us – it’s definitely them. I take a sharp turn, hoping that it will at least be enough to slow them down.

No such luck. They’re closing on us. “Hurry up!” Jerome’s voice is faint, muffled by the engines and the wind. “I’m trying!”

I speed up, the bike roaring beneath me. Suddenly we’re in the city, zipping past bright lights that blur into a neon rainbow. I’m trying to keep on track, to get to Penguin’s, but my priority is getting rid of our trail. We can’t let them follow us.

BANG!

Gunshots shouldn’t sound so familiar. I duck swerve instinctively, despite having no idea what direction they’re firing other than “at us”. I dart between cars, but they somehow manage to keep up. Other drivers are pulling out of the way. I can already hear sirens.

My heart is racing. This is too exciting. It’s terrifying but exhilarating. I’m running on adrenaline and it’s a high unlike anything else. I could do this for the rest of my life.

I catch sight of a narrow alleyway. Dumpsters line it – they won’t be able to follow us. It’s a risky shot. But I can make it.

A hairpin turn. Barrelling through traffic, cars swerving everywhere. It’s getting closer. The wind pulls at us as we barely make it through the gap. There’s the sound of a collision behind us, more gunshots firing, but I keep going. Jerome is trying to say something, but I can’t hear him; I’m laughing in relief, practically whooping at our victory.

Through the alley and out the other side. I turn to head out of the city.

But they’re there. Waiting. I skid to a halt. We seem to stare each other down, me and Jerome versus a fleet of cars, of guns, of death. Waiting to see who will bite first.

Except I’m not waiting.

The wheels skid on the asphalt. We’re heading straight towards them. I grit my teeth. Their weapons are pointed at us. Jerome’s arms around me tighten. A deadly game of chicken.

I go straight through them. They fire, bullets flying, glancing off the metal, one even catching my hair. But for once I’m the lucky one. They’re still chasing us, but the blockade means they have to regroup. Our advantage.

Sooner than I expected we’re out of the city, driving through trees down back roads. I’m starting to think we’ve lost them. Starting to hope that we’ll get there safely.

It was foolish to hope.

More cars. More fucking cars. There’s too many. I’m exhausted, body and mind. Just a bit longer. I can do this. I have to.

But then I glance down.

The tank is close to empty. There’s no way we’ll make it. Not if we have to lose them again. They’re getting closer. I bite my lip. Squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for what I’m about to do.

I’m sorry Jerome.

I snap the handles hard to the right, spinning us hard out of control. Jerome yells in my ear. We knock into trees, bushes, and down a steep slope. We fly off of the bike and away from each other. I hit the ground hard and continue falling, hitting what feels like every rock and branch on the way down. There’s nothing I can do. I feel a sharp pain in my head. Taste blood. See black.

*

“There’s no way they could have survived that.” “We still need to check.” “You want to try and get down there?” “We have to.”

I feel like I’m in a dream. Everything is fuzzy around the edges. But I can see the stars. If they’re the last thing I see, I’ll be happy.

I think I hear cars driving away. I thought they were chasing us? Does that mean I’m dead?

I don’t feel dead. I don’t think I do, at least. But I don’t know what death feels like. The closest to death I’ve felt is leaving Gotham. But I survived that. I don’t think people survive death.

Then again, Jerome did. He died and came back. Quite impressively. Maybe I’ll come back. Maybe I’ll be worse than I was.

“Harleen.” The voice is hushed. Raspy. Familiar. “Jerome?” “I’m here.” I think he’s leaning over me. “Are we dead?” “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Hair is moved from my forehead. There’s something sticky. Smells metally. “Of course not. That was a dumb idea.” I murmur. Talking feels funny. It’s like all the bones and muscles in my head have been shaken out of place. “Come on, we need to keep going.” “Just a little rest.” I try to close my eyes but Jerome makes me sit up. I whine in complaint. “They’re looking for us.” “Oh. They’ll kill us, won’t they?” I hate feeling this stupid, sounding this stupid, but my brain feels fragmented. The thoughts just don’t fit together. “Yup, so we need to get going.” He helps me to my feet but as soon as he lets me go, I stumble and almost crash to the ground. Luckily he catches me and hoists an arm over his shoulder. “How come the guy with the bullet wound in his leg is doing the carrying?” He grumbles. “’Cause you like me.” My mouth speaks without my brain. “I’m liking you a lot less after that stunt throwing us off a cliff.” We begin to shuffle across the damp ground. “Well, you can drive next time.” Being on my feet is starting to clear my head a little, and I pull away to stand on my own. I’m still a little unsteady but we need to move as fast as we can. “You know, I really don’t see how that could have gone worse.” “We could have died.” “Good point.” A moment of silence, but I can’t seem to shut up, “What’s it like?” “What?” “Being dead.” Jerome sighs, glancing around. “It’s not like anything. It’s just… nothing. Empty.” “That sounds awful.” “Well, I’m trying to avoid round two for as long as I can.”

I press my hand against my forehead. It comes away bloody. “I’ll have double face scars now.” “Join the club.” He chuckles. “Nah, I’ll look after mine and they’ll look cool.” He gasps in mock offence. “Are you saying my scars don’t look cool?” “You look like Frankenstein’s monster gone wrong.” “That’s harsh.” “It’s true though.” “You wound me, Harls.” “I think you’ll find you’re usually the one doing the wounding, thank you very much. It’s only fair I get a turn once in a while.” I smirk at him.

The levity disappears quickly when we hear voices calling to each other.

“Here’s the bike!” “They’re not here!”

“Shit.” Jerome hisses. We move as one, hurrying forward as silently as possible. They don’t seem to be too close. Yet. We’re both limping as we make our way through the trees. But the pain now won’t matter if they find us. “Wait.” Jerome’s voice is barely a whisper as he throws an arm in front of me. Ahead of us. A man in leather. Flashlight in one hand, gun in the other. Jerome acts on instinct. Before I can process what’s happening I’m pressed against a tree by his body. He holds a finger to his lips. I nod. Slowly, I raise my arm and pull his hood over the shock of ginger hair.

Our hearts beat as one. Eyes fixed on each other. Breath mingling. My hand hasn’t moved from his hood. My wrist rests on his shoulder.

The moment feels endless.

There’s a sigh from behind the tree. The man is walking away. But Jerome isn’t moving. And neither am I. We’re frozen here, together, separate from the world. For once free from everything else. I’m not scared. Fear doesn’t mean anything anymore. Jerome’s eyes flicker to my lips, and mine imitate him. It seems like the only thing to do.

The sound of cars driving away makes me jump. The spell is broken. Jerome pulls back, leaving the space around me suddenly empty and incomplete. “We should go.” I manage to speak. He nods, and I lead us away from the tree, from that moment suspended in time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

[temperancejones]

Some Kind Of Curse - Prologue

The tension in the air lurking around Steve and Kris McGarrett was the first thing to enter the armoured Humvee. Kris almost had to drag her twin brother and their prisoner to their getaway truck back in North Korea, as he didn’t want to leave Freddy, his best friend, who sacrificed his life for them behind.

Kris, who was already hotwiring the vehicle from the driver’s seat begged him to get in the truck, telling Steve they would come back for Freddy and bring him home. Hell, she even promised him, and that was a very special favour for her to hand out nowadays- nothing can be for certain in the life of a soldier, but Kris was certain that they would be back for Freddy’s body so he could get a proper burial at home like the hero he truly was.

Now safely at the convoy a few miles away from the tiny north Korean village they found Anton Hesse in, Steve lets his shields drop a little bit and mourn his best friend who gave his life for his and his sister’s safe escape. Sitting across from her brother and next to Hesse in the small cab of their armoured Humvee, Kris bangs on the partition to tell the driver to take off, and then puts a hand on Steve’s knee, trying to silently comfort him.

If they weren’t in front of a global terrorist right now, Kris would discuss what just happened to try and get Steve to open up and speak his mind a little bit before their debrief, where he would hold in all of his emotions and just do his job, showing nothing but strength. Deep down, Kris knows that Steve is still a scared sixteen-year-old boy who was sent off to the Naval Academy by their grieving father, who was too depressed from their mother’s sudden and unexpected death to take care of his kids anymore. Thankfully, Steve and Kris got to stay together at the Academy, but their younger sister Mary, who was only 10 at the time, got sent off to Los Angeles to live with their Aunt Deb. Now, fifteen years later, Steve and Kris only really have each other to rely on, as they have been inseparable since the day they left home, which was once on the beautiful island of O’ahu. The only time they really talk to their father and sister nowadays is on birthdays and holidays when they’re not deployed, which unfortunately isn’t often for them. Steve and Kris take pride in their work in the Navy and Army, and that’s because it was there for them both when their family couldn’t be.

Steve nods at his sister, silently thanking her for her support, which causes her to retract her hand from his thigh and put it back on her gun to stay alert. Steve then reaches across the small cab of the truck and pulls the pillowcase off of Anton Hesse’s head, revealing his greasy, dishevelled hair and face. If Hesse wasn’t wearing a TAC vest right now, Kris is pretty sure she would have just shot him on the spot, out of pure hatred and disgust towards this man. Hesse looks around for a moment to try and figure out who grabbed him, and where he is, since he was swiped away from the village so fast that he never got to see who snatched him. When Anton recognizes the McGarrett twins, he lets out a chuckle, which causes Kris and Steve’s stomachs to do a bit of a flip flop. Kris’ heart rises to her throat, getting a feeling that something bad is going to go down, since Hesse almost looked happy to see her and Steve. Staying silent, Hesse looks around the truck again, and then decides to stare at the twins, looking curious about something.

Kris is the first one to speak up at his weird staring. “hey,” she says loudly to him, getting his attention. “What the fuck are you looking at?” She asks him, trying to scare some of the cockiness and swagger out of him. Hesse just smiles and laughs a little bit, which definitely was not the reaction Kris was expecting. Steve leans across the truck and grabs Hesse’s collar, yanking him closer to Steve’s face. “she asked you a question, Anton.” Steve snarls, flashing his teeth a little bit, to try and show Anton that they aren’t going to take any of his bullshit right now. Steve and Kris have been tracking Anton and his older brother Victor across the world for years now and are a little mad that they have only caught one of them so far. Anton rolls his eyes and tests the zip ties on his wrists, trying to see how much room he has to play with. Steve shoots him a glare from across the truck, looking like he wants to reach across the truck and strangle the terrorist, but doesn’t actually act on it. A tense silence breaks out again for the next few minutes, allowing Kris and Steve to look over Anton and analyze his every move so they are prepared for a possible attack by him; they are always on high alert and attack mode, so they are ready for whatever Anton has planned. His extraction from the village seemed a little too easy, and only a bit of a fight was put up at their escape, costing Freddy his life. Deep down, Kris has a gut feeling that there is something else at bay here with Anton, but she doesn’t know what. She looks over at him, trying to read the smirk on his face and understand why he is acting so arrogant about his capture. He should be silent and terrified about being handed over to the American government, not like someone who just won the metaphorical lottery.

Anton sits up in his seat and begins to speak. “It’s funny. You two don’t look Hawaiian.” He says to the twins, obviously trying to get a rouse out of them. He fails miserably of course, because they both remain stone faced. They don’t even blink.

“you’re gonna tell us everything, Anton. Just give it time.” Steve says with a bit of a snappy tone, completely avoiding Anton’s question about them.

Anton just smirks in reply. “But you were born there, weren’t you?” Anton asks this time, still trying to hit a sensitive spot or something on the two soldiers. He probably knows that they won’t reply to any of his questions, but as long as he gets them talking to distract them, then he has completed his task.

Now it’s Kris’ turn to says something snippy to Anton. “Every terrorist cell you and victor helped arm, every supplier you ever worked with, all of your trafficking associates… Everyone you’ve ever sold weapons to… we will know once were done with you.” Kris says firmly, trying again to reiterate that they did not capture him to fuck around and become friends- Anton and Victor Hesse are global terrorists that must be stopped, and it is Steve and Kris’ job to take them down.

Anton wiggles his eyebrows, completely ignoring the glares and threats he is getting from the soldiers in the Humvee with him. “With you two chasing my brother and I around the world for five years… Like a doggy lookin’ for a bone… You don’t think we’d do our homework on you, would ya?” Anton smirks, just as Steve’s satellite phone rings, which makes his and Kris’ eyebrows furrow in confusion. Nobody should be calling them right now, especially when they’re on a mission as critical as this one.

Steve quickly pulls his phone out of his TAC vest and looks at the screen. He scowls at the caller ID, and quickly flashes the screen over to his sister to show her that it’s their dad calling him. Kris’ phone then rings too, which makes her heart rise to her throat. She knows already that this isn’t going to end well- there are too many red flags being put up right now. She pulls her phone out of her TAC vest and sees that the call is coming from her dad’s cell phone too. The McGarretts lock eyes momentarily, allowing each other to know that they know something suspicious is up and to be careful.

“You should probably get that. You two don’t speak to your old man nearly enough.” Anton suddenly says, which makes Kris see red. She immediately knows that this was Anton’s plan all along, and they easily fell into his to trap. All she can do is pray to god that her dad comes out of this unharmed.

After shooting Anton a vicious look, Steve answers his phone. Kris follows suit with hers. “Dad?” Steve asks, feeling his heart pound in his ears. He knows something bad is happening right now but has no idea what to do about it.

“Hey champ… Hey Tiger.” The gruff voice of their father, John McGarrett says, sounding exhausted. Kris and Steve now know that something is horribly wrong from his voice, and from the fact that he never calls them anything other than their names- the nicknames strike them as odd. Filing the nicknames in the back of her mind, Kris is the next one to talk. “You alright?” she asks cautiously, trying not to give anything away too early. John replies almost immediately. “Who are these people, guys?” he asks, now sounding a little scared. The fear in his voice makes Kris’ breath hitch in her throat. John McGarrett isn’t scared of anything, nor does he ever sound as vulnerable as he does now. Something is very, very wrong.

Then, the cocky, arrogant voice of Victor Hesse comes onto the call, which makes her see red. Before Steve can even say anything to her, Kris hangs up her phone and dials the Honolulu Police Department, as she has had that number memorized since she was a kid, since her dad still works there to this day. When a receptionist picks up the phone, Kris asks for Sargent Duke Lukela, who was dad’s best friend when Kris was growing up, and she hopes to god that he is still on the force too- she hasn’t seen him in about fifteen years, so anything could be possible at this point. Thankfully, she gets patched through to Duke right away.

Clearing her throat, she puts on her tough sounding commander voice once Duke answers the phone. “Duke. It’s Kris McGarrett. There is something going on at my house. I have reason to believe that my father is being held hostage by Victor Hesse, a global terrorist and an unknown number of hostiles there. We need your help. 2727 Piikoi Street, ASAP please.” She says as briefly as possible, hoping that Duke remembers her and trusts her enough to listen to this random call from her.

Duke stays silent for a moment, most likely to comprehend everything that was just said to him, interrupting his Tuesday morning, which was already filling up with lots of paperwork. Leaning forward on his desk, his brain starts to go a mile a minute. Why is it always the McGarretts that are getting into big trouble on this island, he asks himself, but then takes a deep breath before answering Kris on the line, who does sound a little scared, even if she was the United States’ first female Navy SEAL, meaning she was supposed to be fearless. “You got it Kris. We will be there in five minutes.” Duke tells her.

Kris thanks him quickly, and before she can hang up, an explosion rocks the Humvee, which jumpstarts her sympathetic nervous system and instantly puts her into fight or flight mode. Letting out a few choice words, she hangs up and throws her phone down, and braces for impact as another explosion hits, this time sending the Humvee toppling onto its side. Kris cranks her head hard enough off the seat in front of her to see stars for a few seconds, but she quickly regains her bearings and remembers the mission at hand.

Anton Hesse… who is currently trying to worm his way out of the Humvee. Kris grabs him by the back of his shirt and pulls him back down to the floor (which is actually the door of the Humvee) next to her. He tries to wiggle his way out of her grip, but she overpowers him and holds him in place as Steve slaps a spare TAC vest on him. Kris checks her gun, making sure that its loaded, and looks at Steve, already equipped with a plan. “I’ll go first and clear the way. I don’t know what’s out there, but your job is to protect the prisoner, okay?” She tells him, and he nods. Feeling her heart rise to her throat, she lets out a puff of air and walks out right into an ambush. Cursing silently, she opens fire on the unknown hostiles, who are head to toe in black, and seem to keep coming from black helicopters over the ridge. Kris takes aim at the helicopters and manages to take down one, giving Steve and Hesse a clear path out of the truck, which is about to be closed in on again. Kris shouts at Steve to move out and covers him as he drags Hesse by the vest to a new spot of cover, behind another transport, making sure that we come out alive from this ambush with Anton. Kris and Steve work on autopilot when taking down the hostiles, making sure to pick them off one by one, so they can manage an escape with their prisoner and figure out how the hostiles managed to locate them so easily. Steve and Kris spilt up, trying to cover more ground and make sure that the coast is clear- there are a couple more hostiles hanging around somewhere, but they haven’t been able to locate them yet, so they decided that splitting up would be the fastest way of finding them. Carefully, Kris walks out from in between two transports, trying to track down the remaining hostiles, when Steve shouts at her to get down. She hits the deck as fast as she can, but not fast enough to avoid getting hit with a bullet or two on the way down. The bullets tear into her left shoulder and her TAC vest, which knocks the wind out of her. Steve quickly eliminates the remaining hostiles, and then shouts something at Anton. Forcing out a cough to get her breath back, Kris scrambles to her feet and sees Steve drawing his sidearm. She does the same and runs over to him. “Put it down, Anton, don’t make me shoot!” Steve yells, and clicks off the safety of his gun. Anton does the same, and aims the gun at Steve, but before he can pull the trigger, Anton is put down by multiple bullets to his chest, fired from Steve’s gun.

Slamming her gun back into her vest, Kris runs over to Anton, who is now wheezing and bloody, gasping for one last breath. “Come on, Anton, please don’t,” Kris pleads quietly, but before she can even reach for his carotid to feel his pulse, Anton goes limp. She checks for a pulse to make sure, but when she can’t find one, its confirmed. She drips back on her knees and lets out a puff of air, wondering what the hell Victor is going to do about this. Before her mind can go to the worst-case scenario, Steve’s phone rings again. Kris rises to her feet and locks eyes with her twin brother- they both know that something bad is about to go down with this call from Victor, and don’t really know what to expect or how to really prepare for it. Kris just hopes to god that HPD can get there in time to stop Hesse from doing something possibly devastating. Steve picks up the phone with hesitation and puts it on speaker so Kris can listen in on it too. Before either of them can say anything, Victor orders them to put Anton on the phone. Stuttering, Steve and Kris try to come up with something that won’t give away the fact that Anton is dead, but only manage to say “Listen, Victor...”, which makes Victor mad. The line goes silent for a few moments, before Victor speaks up again.

“My brother’s dead, isn’t he?” Victor asks loudly. Kris and Steve don’t know how to answer. There is no way that they can say this lightly to him, or even avoid it without their father getting hurt. “Isn’t he?!” Victor shouts at their collective silence and doesn’t even let them answer before he says the worst thing they could possibly imagine. “Then so is your father.” Victor says flatly, then fires off a shot.

Kris lets out a guttural scream as she falls to her knees, begging anyone who would listen to spare her father’s life, as Steve shouts a loud “NO!” into the phone, and tries to yell at Victor, only to find out that he has disconnected the call. Steve curses and redials their dad’s phone, only to get no answer. He keeps trying until someone finally picks up after the fourth time, but it’s not John McGarrett answering, its Duke Lukela. Steve falls to his knees and puts his phone on speaker again so Kris can hear what’s going on too. Right now, she is looking at the ground and taking some deep breaths to keep herself relatively calm.

“Duke, is our father dead?” Steve asks, ripping off the Band-Aid in one go. Dukes silence speaks volumes to the two on the other end of the line.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I’m so sorry Kris. We weren’t fast enough.” Duke says quietly. Steve lets out a quiet thank you and hangs up the phone. Feeling tears well up into his eyes, Steve takes a deep breath and puts a hand on his sister’s shoulder in consolidation, hoping that they can keep calm and get through this together. They can mourn their father once Hesse is caught and brought to justice for his murder, so for now, they have a mission to complete, and wont rest until Hesse is either in their custody or six feet in the ground.

Kris takes a deep breath and looks down at the green grass below her, Steve’s hand on her shoulder snaps her back to attention and into SEAL mode, remembering that she is still on a mission: Find Victor Hesse, dead or alive and make him pay for everything that he has done, no including the murder of her own father, John McGarrett. Kris pats Steve’s hand on her shoulder and they both rise up to their feet once again – Kris notices some sharp pain in her ribs from the two bullets her vest caught, and a throbbing pain in her shoulder from the bullet still lodged in there. She quickly rips off her scarf and ties a quick tourniquet around the wound to stop the bleeding; this is the least of her worries right now. Right now, Kris, Steve and the survivors of the ambush need to get the hell back to base and report so they can finish their mission and take Hesse down, once and for all, now that he made it very personal.

Fifteen minutes later, once all the casualties are loaded into a transport and the survivors are back on their feet, they continue to base, which is only a few miles away, thankfully. Kris and Steve just can’t seem to get the sound of the gunshot that killed their father out of their mind, though. They both know that it will haunt them for the rest of their lives; in a way, they were responsible for his death, and that is something they will have to carry with them until they die too.

——————————————————————————

also cross posted on AO3 and Wattpad 

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176232/chapters/61013149

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/922940248-some-kind-of-curse-a-hawaii-five-0-story-prologue

[iwakurodai]

Angel || Richie Tozier

hello! if this one isn’t good then you can leave me. I haven’t had a good streak with writing in so long. The ending is probably really bad but be gentle, I didn’t know how to continue this let alone end it so the ending seems a bit rushed/way too short! Anyways! I hope you enjoy this imagine to kick off my return to eggytozier

soulmate au where you feel the  pain of your destined lover but dont get the wounds/bruises. 

requested? nah, just had an idea

warnings? suicide, car wrecks, knives, cursing, death, dead parents, pain, blood, soulmates, bad endings, homophobic slur, and missing children

pairing? Richie Tozier x reader, and a bit of platonic!bill x reader

You met your soulmate when you were only five. 

Walking into preschool--hand gripped so very tightly onto your parent’s finger--you stopped at the door way as they spoke to your new teacher. Looking around, your eyes watch the kids chasing each other and knocking stuff over. Your eyes met a small boy that was playing alone, pretending to make food at the play kitchen way across the room. You were about to leave your parents when the teacher kneeled in front of you, distracting you and you forgot about the boy as she introduced herself to you. 

Farther along in the day, at recess, you were about to join the boy from before on the swing set until he jumped off and landed wrong. You felt nothing but searing pain in your ankle and you fell to the ground, sobbing, unaware of the boy screeching just a couple yards from you. You found out who he was when you both were carried to the nurses office by the teachers monitoring you. 

His name was Taylor James. He was a little blonde boy who spoke a little too quiet and laughed a little too loud. He had a strong interest in cooking after growing up with a chef as a father. He had a stutter and a lisp but you didn’t see the problem.

You two were only five, but since that point of meeting, you two were inseparable. 

As years went by, your parents and his became best friends. Taking mementos of you two to look back on when you got married. You two grew up together, not hiding a single thing. Well, it was hard to hide something when you both could feel something was wrong. 

Taylor was as quiet as he was in preschool and he was just as sensitive. Which caused him to become an easy target for bullying. You despised the bullies. Every time you saw them you couldn’t help but shout insults and jokes, hoping that they would feel what they did to Taylor. You knew that it wasn’t right but you didn’t care. All that mattered was Taylor being happy. 

But, you would never have been prepared for when the accident happened. 

You were 10, only five years were spent with Taylor. He was on his way to your house for Easter. You were helping your mother color some eggs when you suddenly dropped to the floor, screaming as if you were being murdered. Tears came out of your eyes like a river, you were barely breathing. A screech coming out of your mouth whenever you could get it out until nothing would come out. 

You felt as if your soul had been ripped in two, holding onto each other with thin strings. Your body was cold, freezing to the touch. Your nails digging into your arms but you didn’t feel a single thing. Your whole mind and body were numb, other than the feeling of your whole being, being put through a paper shredder. 

It wasn’t until you were sitting against your mother chest, still sobbing, that your dad came home. He had tears in his eyes, his hands were shaking. 

Your dad was coming home from buying some candy for you and Taylor when he saw a familiar car fly, headfirst, into a semi truck. He pulled over and ran to the scene, pulling out a phone and calling 911. He was telling the operator where he was when he was stopped cold at the sight of Mr. and Mrs. James, barely even recognizable. Your dad checked the back and was horrified to see little Taylor with a piece of shrapnel lodged into his chest. 

Your dad fled, rushing to you as he realized what would happen. He had only read about soulmates dying, but never did he think he--or anyone he knew--would witness it himself. You didn’t feel a thing of the crash. Taylor died on impact. But the feeling of your other half being ripped from life had scarred you to the core. 

You went silent, your mouth never opened other than to eat and drink. The trauma of losing someone so close to you had scraped your ability to find the use in talking. Your parents became scared, signing you up for a therapist. 

You were only with that therapist for barely half a year before they decided that a change of scenery was better for your health. With that suggestion, you and your family packed up and left your hometown. Driving as far as the family’s minivan could take you. 

Which was the small, secluded town of Derry, Maine. 

You didn’t go to school until the next year, your parents making sure that all the teachers knew of your problem and wouldn’t force you to do anything. 

You weren’t mad or sad or even happy that you had moved. You were just... surviving. You didn’t feel like you needed to feel anything, so you didn’t. In the short year of learning at Derry Middle School, you didn’t make any friends and only gained the attention of Greta Bowie. She took advantage of every time you were alone to bully you. She wanted to tip you over the edge and cause a breakdown. She had found out about your soulmate dying and was making up different scenarios of what could have happened. 

“Your little soulmate killed himself because you’re such a fucking disgrace of a human he didn’t want to be with you, didn’t he?” 

You pretended to not hear it. 

You also gained the attention of a kid named Bill Denbrough. He had a stutter and it reminded you, almost too much, of Taylor. He tried his best to make you comfortable: helping you with work when you seemed to not understand, giving you tips about avoiding Greta and Henry Bowers (who you hadn’t met but made a note of staying away from), and even inviting you to hang out with his friends. You always denied, you didn’t wanna damper their fun. 

Bill always shrugged, though, promising to make plans to hang out alone. You always gave him a small smile in response and a pat on the shoulder. You were scared of getting close to him. 

It was only a month after meeting Bill that you felt something strange. 

You were walking down the hallway, being called to the counselor’s office for your daily meeting, when you felt a strong sense of pain in your stomach. As if you’d been punched. You froze in the middle of the hallway, your mind racing with possibilities. 

Taylor? No, you thought, he’s definitely dead. You saw his body in the morgue, in the open casket with his family. He was gone. 

Was there a chance that you had gotten a new one? You hadn’t seen anything about gaining a new soulmate after the death of another, but it also wasn’t common to find yours at such a young age, like you. 

You got knocked out of your thoughts--literally--when you felt a punch to your face. You dipped your head down, covering your left eye as you head starts to pound fiercely against your eye. Your vision started to blur with tears, a ringing in your ears. You clench your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take a breath and get to the counselor’s office before you started to investigate more. 

You asked the counselor about having a new soulmate when you met with her again, of course by writing it down. She pulled out a dirty notebook and flipped a couple pages before reaching her desired spot. 

She read to you that soulmates who lose their other half so suddenly and unexpectedly have a chance to gain a new one. It happens so rarely that there had been only two ever cases about it. The universe had a plan, they always planned ahead of time. The universe had a backup when they knew a soulmate was going to die unexpectedly. Meaning that in rare cases, people would be born without a soulmate until they were needed.  

When she asked about the sudden curiosity, the bell rang. You ran out of the office and into the crowded halls, to the cafeteria--which you commonly avoided. But, today, you wanted to see Bill. You could see how much mysteries sparked the kid’s interest and you needed help. 

You found him pretty easily, he was with his friends. You knew them from Bill pointing them out in the yearbook when he was showing you Henry Bowers. You barely knew their names but that was the least of your concerns. You scrambled in your backpack, finding a piece of paper and a pen. You scrawled the words “I need your help” on it before throwing the pen in your bag and striding up to Bill, confidently. 

Ignoring his friends that were silenced with confusion, you shoved the paper in Bill’s face. He grabbed it carefully, reading it slowly. 

“Damn Bill, since when did you know the hot new girl?” A kid with glasses exclaimed, smiling at your determined face. “Hi, hotstuff, I’m Richie Tozier, but you can call me your boyfriend!” Richie shoves his hand in your direction. You glance at his hand and then at his face, scrunching your brows together and tilting your head. 

“C-c’mon, (Y/N), we-we can go to th-the libr-library,” Bill says, cutting off your introduction to Richie. “I’ll see you-you guys af-after school!” He exclaims, grabbing your wrist and leading you away from his friends. 

“What the fuck?”

“Why can’t we go?”

“What just happened?”

Bill ignores the three and you two make it out of the loud cafeteria and through the halls until you both finally get to the small school library. 

“So, what di-did you need h-hel-help with?” Bill asks, sitting down on a chair. You sit next to him, opening your bag and scrambling for a random notebook. You find one and hurry, rushing out an explanation. When you finish, Bill slides towards him and scans it quickly, mouthing the words as he reads. He looks back to you once he finishes, he was shocked. 

He’s never heard of the whole gaining new soulmates thing and he didn’t know what to do. But he wanted to help his friend. “Wh-What do you wa-want me to do? How can I-how c-can I help?” You smile in relief, reaching over and hugging him tightly. 

Bill grins widely, hugging you back. It was only the start to a whole new adventure and he was excited to help you figure it out. 

You back up from him, blushing in embarrassment before turning back to your notebook and writing something more. 

‘Do you have any ideas? All I’ve got is asking around if there’s been a fight.’

Bill hums, racking his brain for ideas. Biting his lip, he looks over at you to see you tapping your pencil on the notebook. “M-Maybe we can my friends i-if they’ve heard of-of any fights re-recently? R-Richie surely knows, i-i-if not then we can ask the r-r-redhead, Beverly, from History c-class.” You nod, accepting the idea. 

“Okay, I-I have to go. I’ll meet-meet up with you by the b-bike rack and w-we-we can b-brainst-storm more on the w-way home. Y-You live near the sy-synag-synagogue, right?” After seeing you nod, he smiles. “O-Okay, I’ll w-wa-walk you home. R-R-Remember, by the b-bike rack!” Bill says, leaving you to think to yourself. 

I’m scared that if we don’t find my soulmate, I’ll lose them before I could get to know them. You thought to yourself, playing with your pencil. I don’t wanna know that they’re going through pain and I’m not doing anything to help. 

But, you didn’t know you were going to have to halt the investigation because less than a month later, Bill’s little brother ended up missing. 

You became close to Bill throughout his grieving. You related to him in a way. You both lost someone close to you, for you it might’ve been more painful in the sense of your soul ripping in two, but he lost his little brother. And he thought it was his own fault. 

Bill came to you to vent about Georgie. He went through all the stages of grief in front of you. And you were there to help him through it all. 

Being close to Bill also meant you became good friends with his. Stan Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Richie Tozier became a constant in your routine. They didn’t pressure you to speak but they made light hearted jokes about it. You weren’t ever offended, you laughed with them. Richie made the most jokes though. He couldn’t go an hour without shooting a flirty comment at you with a wink. You found it adorably annoying.

Eddie and you became close too. After a freakout with Eddie not trusting any other boys with his extra inhaler, you stepped up and held it for him. You keep it in your bag at all times and when you didn't have your bag, you had it tucked in your pocket. He had a respect for you for putting up with Richie and not managing to smack him. You always shook your head and chuckled at his disbelief. 

Stan and you only became close after you found him crying with bruises up and down his arms. You helped him up and led him into your home, holding an ice pack to the worst of them all. Stan had been beaten by Henry Bowers and you caught him after he had ran far enough away to lose them. He gained the smallest crush on you after that, but you didn’t have know that. 

You didn’t ever bring up the possibility of having another soulmate to the boys. You didn’t want to stress Bill with his search for Georgie and you didn’t want the other three to ask questions about your first. Though, Richie loved to pester you. 

Richie loved to make jokes about being your soulmate, about how you never bring up soulmates because he was already in front of you. You always brushed it off and rolled your eyes at him. But, one day, the jokes seemed to be a reality. 

You were walking home from your therapist appointment when you felt something hit the back of your head. You reached up and rubbed at it, groaning about how your soulmate must be in wrestling club with how much fighting he did. As you came across Mr. Keene’s pharmacy to pick up your prescription, you glance down the alleyway. 

You almost didn’t catch it but you did a double take and saw Richie struggling against the brick wall as a platinum blonde boy holds him there. 

“Let go of me, bleach bottle! I got shit to do!” Richie exclaims, groaning as he tries to pull away from the kid holding him down. You step closer, hiding behind the wall as you watch. You knew you should help, but something was stopping you. 

“No, you don’t, trashmouth, not anymore.” You watch as a kid with a blonde mullet stalks towards Richie with something in his hand. “I’m gonna teach you to keep your mouth shut, faggot,” He snarls, clicking a button and showing off the glint of the knife. You gasp quietly, slipping away from the wall to try and stop him. You recognized the mullet from Bill pointing it out in the yearbook. Henry Bowers. 

Richie, for once, was shocked silent. His eyes watching as the knife practically glared at him. He swallows thickly as Henry brings the knife close to his face. “You better be happy to welcome a new stamp, Buck Teeth,” Henry mutters, poking the tip of the knife into Richie’s cheek and dragging it slowly across his skin. Richie’s eyes screw shut, gritting his teeth to stop himself from yelling. 

You gasp loudly, eyes widening as you spin to press your back to the brick wall. Your hand reaching to press against your cheek, feeling the knife dig into you but not showing any wound. Heat seemed to lick at your cheek, stinging and causing your eyes to water. Taking a couple deep breaths, you press a hand to your chest to calm your heart beat. 

“What the fuck was that?” Henry whispers to Victor who shrugs. “Well go fucking check, dipshit!” Victor jumps, letting go to Richie, who falls to the ground. He didn’t dare to get up, knowing that if he did Henry would just find a way to injure him more brutally. 

You tense, glancing around before rushing into the store you were hiding in front of. You watched at the bleach blonde looked everywhere before freezing and rushing back to the alleyway. You waited a couple seconds before leaving the store and glancing back where Richie was. 

Richie was pushing himself up, holding his cheek with a frown on his face. Henry and the other one, nowhere to be seen. You deem it safe enough to bolt into the alleyway and to Richie who looked up with fright in his eyes before relaxing at the sight of you. 

“Hey, dollface! What’s up?” He exclaims, smiling at you while still holding his cheek. He acted like nothing had happened. You stop in front of him and look at him incredulously. Blood was starting to drip from his fingers. “What? Oh, you mean this?” Richie asks, noting your shock. “It’s just a scratch, my dear, no need to worry!” You shake your head, grabbing Richie’s wrist and taking it from his face. 

He sucks in a breath, not liking how the cold air felt in his new wound. He didn’t notice how you winced as well. “Yea, okay. Might need a band aid, maybe? Say, where you headed?” Richie asks, suddenly losing interest in the still burning wound. You roll your eyes, pulling him along with you to Keene’s to pick up some supplies. 

“Do you think Mama (L/N) will freak about me bleeding out on your kitchen table?” You scoff at Richie’s words, dabbing a wet washcloth on his cheek to clean the blood from around the fresh band aid. “What? You don’t think so? You know your mom loves me, angel!” You freeze at the nickname. 

It was new—different from the other pet names he’s given you. You roll your eyes, brushing it off as him just finding a magazine that mentioned it. 

“You like that one? I made it up on my own!” Richie exclaims, smiling brightly at your reddening face. “Yea, cause you are like an angel. Maybe that’s why you don’t talk, cause if you do then none of us will be able to handle your beautiful voice and we’d all die because our heart burst from it!” Richie over exaggerates, springing up from the kitchen chair and laughing at your little jump. You chuckle a bit before turning around and cleaning up the mess you made. 

“Hey, (y/n)?” Richie asks, suddenly quiet and serious. You raise an eyebrow, turning on your heel and tilting your head at him in question. “Have you found your soulmate yet?” He mumbles, shocking you. 

You didn’t know if you should tell him. Yea, you were very happy you found your second soulmate but you didn’t know if you should tell him or let him figure it out himself. 

“You don’t have to answer, I was just wondering. Because, I’m scared I don’t have one,” Richie confesses. You sit down next to him, slowly, growing confused. “That or my soulmate is extremely careful because the last time I felt pain from them was…” Richie stops to think. “Have I ever felt pain from them before?” You sigh, looking down and grinding your teeth. 

You’ve been overly cautious about hurting yourself over things. You didn’t want to put your soulmate through something painful, it hurt you to see that you were the cause. But you needed to do something. You knew Richie was your soulmate, you just had to find the courage to show him. 

“It’s whatever. I can deal with not having one! It’s not like I need one or something!” Richie laughs, pushing away his true feelings. He stands up, rubbing his hands over pants before starting towards the door. You start to panic, not wanting him to leave on a sad note. You rack your brain, filing through the things you could do to make him stay. But there was really only one choice as there was nothing around you to help you.. “I should probably go, I was supposed to meet Eddie at the park—“

“W-Wait.” 

Richie freezes, a hand reaching towards the door. He spins on his heel slowly, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. “Did you just—“ He cuts himself off as you start to walk closer to him. You nod. Your voice was hoarse, as it hadn't been used in more than a year. And you stuttered, you weren’t exactly used to talking anymore. 

“I—“

“Y-Your soulmate,” You confess, biting the inside of your cheek and watching him carefully. Richie’s face drops. He chuckles lowly, sounding betrayed. 

“Don’t try, angel. I don’t want you to fake being my soulmate just to make me happy,” You roll your eyes as Richie looks up at you with sad eyes. “You deserve to be with your actual soul—“ As Richie talks, you lift your arm and grab a lump of your skin in between two fingers, and squeeze. 

“Oh, fuc—“ Richie exclaims, jerking his arm to his chest quickly. He looks at you with confusion, his face screwed with disbelief. 

“You’re—“ He didn’t have to finish his words as you nod in confirmation. Richie laughs, relief seeping through. “Shit,” He breathes, bringing you in for a tight hug. “You’re actually my soulmate. Holy fuck!” Richie rambles, a grin gracing his features. 

You giggle, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. You got a second chance, you didn’t wanna screw it up. You decided to put off telling him about Taylor. Richie’s smiling face was way too precious to be put down by your past. 

“Wait! I gotta tell Stan! He’s gonna shit himself!”