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quicksilverownsmysoul · 3 years

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Not What It Seems

Summary: Colin is the sweetest man you’ve ever met and yet for some reason everybody seems suspicious of him. By befriending him you learn the hard way that there is such a thing as being too nice

Word Count: 4125 oof

Warnings: Evil Colin, murder mention, minor violence, restraint

Colin was the most charming man you had ever met. He always held the door open for others, making sure everyone got in before he did. He brought you and Mare a coffee everyday, always remembering your order exactly and even bringing you a pastry from time to time. He stayed late to finish up paperwork, reorganized the office and even brought lunch for everyone each Friday. And yet no matter how many good things he did it seemed everyone at the station was wary of him.

You watched as he tried to get to know Mare and them better but they all kept their distance. Always making sure to never get too close to him. He tried each and every day to get Mare to open up to him, but she always shut him down. He would just brush it off with a smile and pretend it didn’t bother him. But you would see the way his smile would falter for a minute before he went back to his usual friendly demeanor.

You were the secretary for the station and you were known for your friendliness and caring nature. Sometimes a little too caring. Mare had often warned you that that was going to be your downfall one of these days. You just ignored her saying that it never hurt to be nice to anyone. So after days of watching Colin try and fail to make friends with his coworkers you decided to approach him yourself.

You came in a couple days later with a box in hand, it was green with fancy gold lettering written across the top. It was from the bakery at the edge of town, the really nice one. Everyone waited for you to place it in the break room like you usually did. But instead you walked directly towards Colin’s desk, they all watched with nervous eyes. Some even tried to stop you.

Colin had his head down, immersed in his work. He was sitting all alone in his shared office with Mare. Since he had been transferred there she worked out of the captain's office, she said something about him made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. You had just rolled your eyes and told her she was being paranoid. He didn’t even notice you until he saw your shoes stopped at his desk. He slowly looked up and you gave him one of your signature smiles. “Morning Detective.”

“Morning (y/n).” He smiled at you jutting his pen at the box in your hand. “I’m guessing you brought these to put in the break room.”

You shook your head and held the box towards him. “Actually I got them for you .”

His face split into a large smile, it was contagious and you felt yourself smile as well. “Really?” You nodded and he slowly reached his hands out and took the box, he flipped open the lid to see an array of donuts. They were all neatly placed and delicately decorated, he took one out and closed his eyes at the heavenly taste.

He looked up at you with wide eyes. “Why did you get these for me?”

“I just felt like it.” You smiled and made your way out of the office, turning back to face him once more. “Besides what are friends for.” Colin watched you as you made your way back to your desk, you caught his eyes and smiled at him. He returned it mouthing a thank you and pointing excitedly at the box.

The next day during lunch you watched Colin go around the office and offer the lunch he brought to his coworkers. He held bags of takeout towards them filled with their favorite foods urging them to take it. They all gave him a tight smile, declining his offer. After a while he gave up and sat down at an empty table with the food no one wanted. He sat alone, no one wanted to sit with him, they would come by and he’d get this hopeful look on his face but they’d just ask to borrow a chair.

“Is this seat taken?” Colin whipped his head up at hearing your voice.

“No!” He answered quickly, getting up to pull your chair out for you. You giggled and thanked him.

He reached into the bag and pulled out a takeout container, hesitantly offering it to you. “Would you maybe like some?”

“I’d love some.” At hearing your answer Colin reached into the bag and began to pull out numerous containers. He handed you a plate and watched as you took a little bit of everything, not wanting it to go to waste. You thanked him for the food and complemented how good it was. He watched you for a moment before getting some of his own and eating with you.

You talked with him as you are asking him about cases and just trivial things like his favorite color. But he ate it up telling you everything you wanted to know and asking questions of his own which you gladly answered. By the end of lunch you felt as if you had known him all your life. You thanked him and went back to your desk, you could see him return to his own large smile on his face. You glanced to the side and saw Mare staring at you. She had this warning look in her eyes, she was silently telling you that she didn’t trust him. You broke her gaze and went back to work, there was no way a man as nice as that could be bad.

For the rest of the week you noticed that Colin had shifted his attention towards you. Usually he would go around the whole office trying to talk to others, especially Mare, but now he sought only you out. He would talk to you a little more when bringing your coffee and he’d stop by during the day just to chat. He was still nervous about asking you to sit with him at lunch so you always went to ask him yourself.

At the end of lunch on Friday you moved to get up, collecting your trash and giving him a goodbye like usual. But today Colin caught your hand before you could leave. You looked at it and he quickly released you. “I’m sorry!” He quickly spit out. He watched you, you could tell he had something on his mind, the way his fingers nervously drummed on the table. After a moment he cleared his throat. “Um a buddy of mine opened up a restaurant in town and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go with me?” You thought about it for a moment, not answering right away. Colin took it as a silent no, already forming an apology in his head.

You could feel all eyes on you in the break room, you looked up and saw Mare watching you. She had heard his question and was subtly shaking her head, telling you to say no. You looked around and sure enough everyone was advising the same. You turned back to Colin, he was looking down at his shoes, fiddling with his hands in his lap. You gave a gentle smile. “I’d love to go.”

He looked up at you with puppy dog eyes, and a bright smile. “Okay, I’ll pick you up at eight tonight!” You nodded and headed back to your desk, tossing your trash in the can near the captain's office. Mare stepped out of the office and placed her hand on your shoulder. “Can I talk to you?” You nodded and she dragged you around the corner and into the stairway, away from prying eyes.

“What are you doing?”

You raised an eyebrow at her. “I was throwing away my trash. What are you doing Mare?”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know what I mean. About Colin, why did you say yes to going out with him.”

“It’s not like it’s a date Mare.” You answered.

“Whatever, you still shouldn’t go with him.”

“And why not?” At this point you were starting to get mad at her. You couldn't understand why everybody was so cold towards him, he had been nothing but an absolute sweetheart since he got to Easttown. “He is like the nicest man I've ever met, he wouldn't do anything bad to me.

“Yeah, a little too nice.” Mare lowered her voice. “Look I don’t trust him.”

“Mare-”

Something in her gaze changed and you quickly shut your mouth, allowing her to continue on. “There’s something off about him, one of his old coworkers called here not too long ago and told me to be wary of him. Apparently for a while he was a suspect in that girl’s case, the one from the county. They never did find anything on him and he was the one who solved the murder so all charges were dropped aganist him. But he gets really weird when I ask him about the case. I think he knows more about her disappearance than he’s letting on.”

“Mare, we don’t know for sure that he had anything to do with it.” You crossed your arms. You glanced around the wall to see Colin at his desk, he was singing along to the radio in his office while he did his paperwork. He saw you and gave you a smile, you returned it and turned back to Mare. Mare followed your gaze and saw the way his smile dropped, and how he watched her with cold eyes, trying to figure out why she had taken you to talk with you. Mare narrowed her eyes at him. “For all we know that would just be a spiteful coworker trying to stir up drama.”

“I don’t want to take any chances. I don’t want you getting hurt.” You could tell from her tone she was concerned, it was a sweet sentiment but she didn't know Colin like you did. She didn't even take the time to get to know him.

“I can take care of myself Mare.” You gave a gentle smile. “Besides what’s the worst that could happen?”

Colin showed up at your door a half hour early ready to take you to dinner, thankfully you were already ready. You opened the door and saw him all dressed up in a suit, looking as if he was going to prom, he even had a bouquet of flowers. He looked cute, you felt a blush settle onto your face, you had never really taken the time to look at Colin before. He was quite handsome, and when he smiled and flashed his dimples you felt your knees get weak. He nervously tugged at his tie and offered you the flowers. “I got these for you.”

“Aw you didn’t have to.”

“I know but I just felt like it.” His response was eerily similar to the one you had given when he asked you about the donuts you brought him. It made you a little uneasy but you couldn't figure out why. “Should we get going?”

“Yea, let me just put these in some water.”

The ride to the restaurant was filled with easy chatter, things felt so comfortable between you two. About halfway there he reached his hand over to rest on your own, his fingers were trembling. You didn't read too much into the action and lightly squeezed his hand in return. At the restaurant you guys were seated right away, a treat from Colin’s buddy. You scanned the menu, trying to decide what to get, everything looked so good. Colin watched you over his menu. “So what did you and Mare talk about?”

His question surprised you, it was so straightforward, You put down your menu to look at him. “Nothing much, just work stuff.” He responded with an amused chuckle and set his own menu down.

“You were talking about me weren’t you?” You tried playing it off and he just laughed it off. “It’s okay everyone there talks about me.”

“That doesn't make it okay.” He just nodded his head.

“Let me guess, she told you about me being a suspect in my last case didn't she?”

“How did you-”

“I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. The guys back at the country never really liked me.” He said with a sad smile, his eyes not meeting yours. “It only made things worse when I got assigned to the case to help them out. I was a new detective and they were old timers, very respected. It didn't make them look good when I solved the case so they started this rumor that I solved the case so quickly because I was the one that killed her.”

“That’s awful. I’m so sorry Colin.”

He wet his lips, still keeping his eyes cast downward. “I was hoping when I got assigned up here it would be a fresh start, I would finally get to have some friends.” He smiled to himself for a moment, you watched his lips trembled before dipping downard. There was a loneliness in him that was evident in the way he talked about the situation. “But I guess they called and told their rumor to Mare, kinda ruined things for me.”

You reached out and took his hand in yours, running your thumb across his hand. “You have me.”

“And I still can’t believe it.” You took your hand back and picked up your menu again. Colin’s hand twitched, itching to chase your own to keep it near him. He picked up his own menu. “You don’t believe her do you?”

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, his eyes were dark and unreadable.

“You don't think I killed her?” He let out a little laugh, but stopped when he noticed you didn't answer right away. “Do you?” His face looked completely different, and the way his eyes watched you made you want to get up and leave.

You gulped, his look making you uneasy. “No, you're the good guy, the hero detective.” You blocked what you could of your face with your menu, only letting him see your eyes. “Right?”

“Right.” His expression snapped right back to normal, his usual puppy dog eyes a complete one eighty from his previous dark look. “So what are you going to get, I think I’m gonna go with the stake.” He gave you a warm smile reaching for your hand, you flinched when it made contact. You were still rattled at how quickly he seemed to change his personality.

“I-I think I’ll get the chicken.”

“That looked good too, I may have to steal some from ya.” He joked and you laughed along, too scared to find out what would happen if you didn't.

You tried your best to shake off the uneasiness of what had happened. It was no more than a couple minutes long and yet the rest of the night it weighed heavy on your mind. For the rest of dinner you watch him closely, waiting to see if he would slip back into the darkness you had seen before. But he never did, he was positively pleasant. You brushed it off, you figured he was just scared that you believed that horrible rumor and that you were going to pull away from him. And who could blame him, everyone at the office treated him like he was cursed and you were the only one who talked to him. He was just scared to lose you as a friend.

As you neared the end of dinner you seemed to forget what had happened earlier, Colin made you laugh and even treated you to dessert. By the time he dropped you off at home that eerie moment of darkness was all but forgotten. He helped you out of his car and walked you to the door. “I had a lot of fun tonight.” You felt his fingers brush against your own and you met him halfway, smiling as you noticed that his rough hands fit perfectly in your own.

“I did too. We should do it again sometime.”

“Maybe…” Colin cleared his throat, trying his best not to stumble over his words. “Maybe like a date?”

“I would love to go on like a date with you sometime.” You giggled. You moved closer and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek before rushing inside and leaving him shocked on your porch. “Goodnight!” You heard him call out a goodnight in response before making his way back to his car.

You guys started going out after that night, every date felt magical, and in no time you guys had come out as a couple. He was the perfect man, always surprising you with small gifts and kisses throughout the work day. You were absolutely enamored with him. Since the dinner at his buddy’s restaurant you never saw that darkness in his eyes again. But others seemed to. You usually had so many people who would stop by your desk during the day to talk with you but now no one dared to be near you. On the rare occasion someone did come to your desk to talk they excused themselves as soon as they saw Colin coming closer. Making up some excuse about having a lot of work. The only one who never backed away was Mare, even if Colin came up right behind you and held you while you were talking to her she didn't leave. She would just glare and act as if he wasn't there. She was always trying to pull you away from Colin so she could talk to you about him but you always seemed to have work to do that stopped you from chatting with her for too long.

As time went on Colin seemed to get even more attached to you, at times even working from your desk, not wanting to leave you alone for too long. One morning after he went out to get coffee for you two he came back to see someone sitting at your desk. It was the postman, he usually delivered the mail and then left but in seeing Colin wasn't there he had stopped to talk with you. You were laughing at something he said and you placed your hand on his forearm. Mare watched as Colin squeezed the coffee cups so hard they crumbled in his hands, the liquid spilling onto the floor. His eyes were dark, but the minute you saw him he made up some excuse about the coffee spilling. She narrowed her eyes watching him politely shake the guy's hand and talk with him like nothing was wrong, when a moment before he looked ready to kill him.

Coin Watched him leave before turning to face you a sweet smile on his lips. “Who was that?”

“You know Kevin, he delivers the mail.”

Colin sat down at your desk, fiddling with one of the many knick knacks that decorated it. “You seemed friendly with him.”

You didn't pick up on his accusation. “I’ve known him since high school, we dated for a while actually.” You let out a laugh and so did Colin, but it sounded hollow compared to yours.

“Hey would you maybe like to come to my house for dinner tonight? I’ll cook and maybe you can bring dessert.”

“Yeah that sounds perfect.” Colin smiled at your answer and got up to go back to his own desk.

“Perfect.”

That night you arrived wearing your nicest outfit and knocked on the door. “Come in!” Colin called out. You opened the door and it let out an ominous creak. It was dark, you squinted trying to make out your surroundings. You hung up your coat and set down the cake you had baked on the kitchen counter. You smiled to yourself at the dinner that he had setup, you looked around but Colin was nowhere to be seen. You saw the wine glasses that were set up, you took a drink from the glass in front of your plate. You noticed that it burned your throat slightly more than usual, you took another sip before calling out for him.

“I’m in the basement! I’m trying to find the lighter, can you come and help me?”

You walked through his house not giving it a second thought, your head feeling a little fuzzy. You walked down the stairs and made it to the bottom, still no sign of Colin. You noticed the bed that was there, along with a number of other things. The longer you looked the more you noticed everything was tailored to what you liked. The door slammed above you and you turned to run but were stopped by a tight grip on your arm. They spun you around and pressed your back into the wall. Your eyes widened as you saw who was the one attacking you. Colin gave you a soft smile, “What? He asked. “You didn't see that coming?” You struggled against his hold but found that you felt weak. He gently caressed your cheek, watching as you fighting ceased, your limbs feeling heavier “I see you drank the wine I left you. I added something a little extra just for you.” He picked you up and you beat your fist against his chest as hard as you could, it had little impact on him. He just brushed your hand away and laid you down on the bed. He bound your wrists and you began to cry. “Nononono don’t cry.” he cooed, brushing away your tears. “It’s temporary, until you learn your place.”

“Why are you doing this?” You cried out.

He kneeled down by your head. “So you won’t leave me like she did.”

‘She?”

“The girl from my case.” Your eyes widened.

“You killed her?” You whispered out.

“I didn't want to. She was the first person I had been with after my engagement ended. She was so nice and warm but then she tried to leave. I had to kill her. She didn't leave me a choice, she had fallen in love with someone else. I couldn't go through that again. I couldn't.” He was crying at this point. “All I wanted was her to stay with me and I didn’t mean to, I just saw her with him and the next thing I knew she was dead.” Tears continued streaming down his face as he finished tying you to the bed. “But it’s okay cause now I have you.” He gave you a smile, you felt your insides churn at the sight of it.

“You didn't have to do this!” You yelled pulling at the ropes. “I wasn’t going to leave you!”

“But eventually you were! I knew sooner or later you would find someone better than me. Like Kevin. I saw the way you talked with him today.” His smile faltered before picking back up. “Everything was going so well and he had to ruin it. He was going to take you away. But don’t worry now nothing will come between us.”

“You're crazy!” You cried out.

“Only for you darling.” He pressed a light kiss to your cheek and you turned your face away.

Colin made his way back up the stairs and locked the basement door behind him. He slipped the chain the key was on back over his head, hiding it below the hem of his shirt.

He dumped your wine out and refilled the glass as he sipped from his own. He glanced at the clock noticing the time, he turned the radio up. The basement was pretty sound proof already but you could never be too careful. His mom opened the door to the house carrying in groceries. “Hey Colin I’m home.”

“Hey mom.”

She glanced at the already set table and the steaming food that he had already prepared. “You made dinner for me. And you even baked a cake for dessert.” She set the stuff in her hands down, slightly pinching his cheek. “Such a good boy.” He smiled and sat down across from her. As they started to say grace there was a thud. She paused her prayer and opened her eyes, raising an eyebrow at him. “Did you hear something?”

“Not a thing.”

Taglist: @anonymushhy @chiswritingandreadingcorner @xxspqcebunsxx @coffeeandteaintheevening @kitwalkerangel @xmaximoffic @livingmybestfictionallife @evanmybeloved @kaismessiahbb

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

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Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together.

Characters: Werewolf!Captain Syverson, Werewolf!Female Reader, Vampire!Walter Marshall.

Warnings (for this chapter, all small mentions but warning just in case): Breastfeeding, Accidental Cutting Injury/Blood loss, blood transfusions. This chapter contains no sex scenes or scenes of a sexual nature.

A continuation of previous Werewolf!Sy stories Moonlight on the Sand and Castle Under The Stars. This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

The late spring day brought pleasant scents and mouth watering flavours, Blackwater Lake’s town May day parade in full flow as you held two month old Luna in her carrier to your chest, turning to smile at your husband Sy as he balanced Mikey on his shoulders so your son could watch the floats whilst they slowly cruised past. You knew he would be most excited about the Fire Department bringing their trucks past. At the first whoop of the siren Mikey squealed with joy, the ice cream cone in his hand tipping slightly and setting a blob of blue bubblegum flavour gelato into Sy’s cheek;

“Hey, no wriggles! Its raining ice cream down here”

Pausing the consumption of your own cone you handed it to Sy as you reached into your bag and found a baby wipe, moving to wipe his cheek before stretching to wipe your son’s face. Finding a trash can to toss the wipe into, you smiled as you watched your two boys as they waved to the Fire Trucks, the crew making sure to honk their horns when they saw Sy.

Everyone in town loved Sy. You’d moved there together when you’d found out you were pregnant with Mikey, your army days behind you and wanting to seek somewhere quiet where you could live in the woods to allow for full moon runs whilst being close enough to civilisation to raise a family. The aging receptionist at the realtor had pulled you aside the second you’d arrived in their office when you’d visited the town, recognising one of her own as her nostrils had flared and she’d explained that there were ‘all sorts’ in the town. That was your first meeting with Edith, and you’d gone on to move in just up the mountain from her. Once Sy had finished in the Army and baby number two was on the way, he’d started working alongside retired detective Walter at his construction company where they specialised in commercial buildings. They were always on call for when businesses had emergencies, so had come to the aid of half the town after storms and accidents.

As the parade dragged on Luna woke, grumbling for a change and a feed. The two boys were transfixed with the parade and you’d lost your ice cream cone to Sy who was now mindlessly munching away on it. Tugging on his sleeve you caught his attention;

“Luna’s woken up, i’m gonna take her into Sue’s Coffee Shop to change her and give her a feed”

“Sure thing Darlin, we’ll come find you in a bit”

The coffee shop was quiet, its doors opened onto the sidewalk and as the radio played soft rock music, just one or two tables taken outside but the inside empty. Sue - the owner - smiled at you as you walked in;

“Hey Sue!”

“Hey there! What can I get'cha?”

“Can i get a decaf iced latte? I just need to change Luna if that’s ok?”

“Of course, no need to ask, the restroom is empty”

A couple of minutes later your little girl had a clean butt but was still grizzling, now hungry for your milk. Sue had set your drink onto a table in the corner, a soft window seat she knew you liked to sit at to feed. Settling in you pulled your cami top down and unhooked the strap of your nursing bra, helping Luna to latch on as she cried before a blissful quiet descended over you as she happily suckled on your breast. In the quiet of the coffee shop you reached for your drink and sipped on it, smiling down at your beautiful daughter as she gazed up at you;

“Hey there my little Luna, better now? Is that the good stuff? Yeah? Well that’s what your Daddy says it is…” you said with a whisper and a smirk.

“Hey”

The sudden greeting made you jump, looking up to see Walter standing near your table;

“Oh, Hi Walter”

“Sorry…” he glanced away, averting his eyes from where you were feeding; “I just asked if you wanted anything?”

“Oh no, i’m fine, i’ve got a coffee… but you’re welcome to join me if you like? Sy and Mikey will be along once the Parade’s over”

Nodding once the quiet man went to order before returning with what looked like a quad espresso but faltering when it came to taking a seat;

“Where did you want me to sit?”

“Oh anywhere you like” you shifted Luna as she had finished on one breast, hooking that side up before shifting and moving her to the other breast. You’d mastered the art of switching breasts without revealing anything, the baby's head blocking any view of a nipple, and you were a vehement supporter of breast feeding - in fact any feeding - and had been known to get into loud shouting matches with anyone that told you to cover up something that was completely natural.

“I mean, i don’t want Sy to think i’m here oggling his wife’s tits”

Laughing, you kicked out a soft chair with your foot;

“This is fairly low, take this one and here…” you moved the upright menu on the table in front of Luna’s head, knowing that she would now be shielded from view and with your breast, and saving Walter’s embarrassment.

Just as Walter sat down Sue brough over his sandwich, the scent of it hitting your nostrils and making your stomach audibly growl;

“Oh wow, what is that?”

“A steak wrap with chimichurri sauce” he lifted one half and offered it to you, but you shook your head.

“Thanks, but that’s just a little too rare for me… looks like a good veterinarian could bring it back to life”

Walter laughed as you called out to Sue, ordering one of the same.

“You want yours still mooing too?”

“Medium, please” you laughed as she nodded and walked away.

As she cooked your meal you turned back to Walter. You’d had a few conversations with him over the 11 months he and Sy had worked together, but knew very little about him apart from his reputation of being quiet and surly, generally sleep deprived and a little pale most of the time. He’d been medically retired from the Police Department after an accident where he’d lost a lot of blood and had never fully recovered.

As Luna happily fed and Walter devoured his sandwich you sipped on your drink, watching with curiosity as the man ate in silence, savouring each bloody bite. When he finally crumpled the napkin onto the plate and sat back he caught you watching him;

“What? Do i have something on my face?”

“No” you laughed softly; “Just watching how quickly you devoured that sandwich. Rachel not feeding you at home?”

Walter’s face dropped;

“She left”

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry Walter, i wouldn’t have said anything if i’d known”

“S’ok. She got fed up with the way i lived my life, but i can’t change who i am”

“True”

Just then Sy and Mikey came running into the coffee shop;

“Hi Darlin! Hi Sue! Hi Walt… be right back, Jnr has a bathroom emergency!”

The two Syverson boys disappeared into the restroom, and you could clearly hear Sy’s voice;

“Point! POINT IT AT THE TOILET! That’s it, stand on your tippy toes… there we go! Got here in time!”

You suppressed a laugh, Walter raising his eyebrows;

“Potty training?”

“Uh-huh… it's been a challenging few weeks to say the least, but Mikey wanted to give it a go”

The sound of the dryer could be heard as Sy and Mikey reappeared, Sy giving you double thumbs up from behind his son who ran to you;

“A perfect aim Darlin, no leaks. Think this deserves a cookie!”

As Mikey squealed with joy you groaned;

“Sy… not more sugar! He’ll be up all night. Mikey, honey, how about some fries?”

“And Eggies?” Mikey asked

“Sure thing honey, get Daddy to ask Sue”

As the afternoon wore on and the boys chatted, you listened as Sy and Walter discussed work stuff, Luna sleeping peacefully in your arms as you ate with Mikey. Finally glancing at your watch you motioned to Sy the time;

“Hun, i’ve gotta go collect our meat order from Walkers Meats”

“Oh yeah, sure. Here…” He opened his wallet and peeled off a bunch of $20’s as he turned to Walter; “She makes the best Steak Tartare… it's unbelievable”

“You make that?” Walter asked

Angling Luna into her carrier sling you adjusted the straps and nodded;

“Sure do! Hey, did you want to join us for dinner?”

“Yeah, join us!” Sy parroted; “And before you say anything, you wouldn’t be intruding”

With a weak smile Walter nodded;

“Sure, that’ll be nice. I gotta go to the lumber yard before though… pick out the stuff for next week's job”

You noticed that Mikey had finished his meal and was looking sleepy, holding your hand out to him he slid off the chair and stood next to you;

“How about I take the kids home, Sy you catch a ride with Walter?”

With everyone happy with the arrangements you made your way along main street to where Sy had parked his enormous truck, helping Mikey into his seat before unlatching Luna and settling her into her carrier. They were both fast asleep by the time you got to the drivers seat.

You managed to park directly outside the door to Walkers Meats, and Freya the weekend girl helpfully brought everything out to you when you called inside that the kids were asleep in the car and you didn’t want to leave them.

Dinner had been fun. The two kids were peacefully sleeping as the three adults chatted after the meal, before you finally stood to load the dishwasher and start hand washing the items that couldn’t go in there. Just as you were about to start you heard a cry from the kids, Sy standing;

“It’s Mikey, i’ll go”

As you started to handwash the various knives and delicate glasses, Walter stood at your side to dry items, the two of you talking casually before you let out a cry and pulled your hand from the soapy bowl of water. The dark crimson of your blood flowed from your finger, the knife you’d forgotten you’d put in the sink the cause;

“Fuck… hand me a towel…” you asked Walter, but were surprised when he sucked in a sharp intake of breath and turned, hunching over. Clutching your hand to your chest, you were surprised by his reaction, before he suddenly turned and you let out a shriek.

Sy appeared at the doorway in a panic before rushing to you, wrapping a napkin around your hand before he finally turned to look at Walter;

“What the fuck…”

Walter was pale, paler than usual, but that wasn’t what shocked the pair of you. No, it was the fact his eyes were pure white except for dark pools for his pupils, and as he opened his mouth to speak you saw his fangs;

“It’s… it’s the blood…” he gasped out; “It drives me…”

Sy wrapped his arm around your shoulders, but looked at his friend as he slumped onto the floor, shaking and sobbing;

“Think we need a chat Walt”

The three of you sat around the kitchen table, a hefty glass of scotch in front of each of you as Walter spoke;

“So umm yeah… this is why i left the Department. Went into a supposedly abandoned building, but it wasn’t empty. Two what we thought were junkies in there, looked like they were frail and would snap in a keen wind, but they had this strength and speed… They overpowered me, latched onto my neck. Drained my blood, and when the last drop was about to pass their lips one of my officers finally found me and shot them. They bled into me. The EMT’s took me to New Mercy and gave me a massive blood transfusion, and treated me for severe anemia… well guess what, the fangs and fucked up eyes were a surprise a few weeks after i was discharged”

You sat wide eyed and mouth agape, not touching your drink;

“I have so many questions...”

“Okay”

“Garlic. Crosses. Being invited in. Sunlight…”

Walter chuckled;

“Most a load of complete bollocks. Garlic? Well you put some in your steak tartare didn’t you? In fact it helps with the anemia. Crosses? No issue. Being invited in, again that’s just rubbish. Sunlight however… why do you think i’m so pale, huh? Have to wear factor 50 all the damn time otherwise i end up looking like a Maine Lobster at a cookout”

Both you and Sy were transfixed, Walter chatting away but his eyes hadn’t returned to normal and his fangs occasionally caught on his lip as he spoke.

“What ‘bout blood then?” Sy asked

Walter cleared his throat;

“Well, i’ve been making do with cows blood since Rachel left”

“You used to suck her blood?” you asked in a high pitched voice

Again Walter cleared his throat, this time just the faintest hint of a blush crept over his cheeks above his beard;

“Err yeah, about once a month… but she had enough in the end and left”

“I got another question” Sy interjected; “Why are your fangs still out?”

Although he answered Sy, Walter looked directly at you;

“Because she’s bleeding”

You looked down at your hand, puzzled as the wound had now sealed, before it hit you;

“Oh… I should go and sort that out”

Sy caught up quickly, glancing at the back of your dress;

“You’re fine Darlin, Walt caught it in time”

When you returned to the kitchen the two men had knocked back their drinks, Sy pouring another hefty glass for the pair of them. Pouring your drink into Sy’s you smiled at him;

“Luna won’t appreciate it”

Making yourself a herb tea you sat down next to Sy, leaning on his shoulder as you sipped your tea. Walter cleared this throat;

“You two have taken this a lot better than i envisioned anyone would… better than Rachel did…”

You looked up at Sy and smiled, his own grin crossing over his face before he nodded and you both turned to Walter as Sy spoke;

“Oh… we have a bit of understanding of this kinda thing”

With the full moon starting tomorrow night you knew that you could both force your eyes to turn orange, the bright ring of fire in your irises flaming like a pyre, shocking Walter so much he slipped back on his chair and fell to the floor. Greeted by both of you giggling, he pulled himself back up using the table as he righted his chair, knocking back the rest of his glass;

“What… the… FUCK?”

#blackwater lake #henry cavill #captain syverson #walter marshall #werewolf!sy #Vampire!Walter

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samstree · 3 years

Text

and the wolf was nowhere to be found (2/3)

Jaskier pays the price of his lies. With blood and tears and a few broken hearts.

(4.3k, lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, blood and injury, miscommunication, mutual pining)

Previous | Read on AO3

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4].

Jaskier wakes with a crick in his neck and an aching heart.

He goes through the motion of packing, their morning routine too familiar to distract him from the heavy guilt in his chest. Jaskier wonders if Geralt is actively avoiding him—the way his back is turned at every chance can’t be a coincidence.

The only time he so much as spares a glance is when Jaskier puts the lemon cake in their rations bag, wrapped perfectly and untouched. Geralt stills for a split second, his jaw clenched.

Jaskier wants to brush it off.

Finding an excuse is the first instinct he has, thinking of a lie as to why he didn’t eat something he’s been drooling over for ages, and erase that crestfallen look on Geralt’s face, the one that is breaking his heart.

Because he can’t exactly tell the truth, which is that he’s more likely to be sick if he ate it. Another lie, however, would turn his stomach even more.

Jaskier remains silent.

Even Roach is judging him as they walk out of the stable. Jaskier bears her side eyes and annoyed headbutt without putting up a fight. The mare is too perceptive to miss the tension in the air, and her protectiveness is more than justified. She’s a smart girl. Of course, she knows Jaskier is one making her broody witcher brood even harder.

She tries to bite his doublet again, and it’s Geralt who stops her with a soothing hand down his mane, murmuring confused questions into her ear. Sweet, kind Geralt, who has been rejected by Jaskier so many times for no reason in the past few days, is still trying to defend him.

Jaskier needs to make it right.

“Geralt, look—”

“Master Jaskier!”

Someone in the distance rudely interrupts Jaskier’s nervous attempt. He turns by instinct and watches a boy in lilac doublet jog up to them. He’s so young, no older than twenty, still with that joviality and naïvety in his features. The way his matching doublet and trousers could catch the eyes of any crowd reminds Jaskier of himself in his early years.

“Sweet Melitele, I’m your biggest fan! Oh my…” the boy proclaims, awestruck. “I’ve been following your ballads for years, and now I get to meet you in person!”

Jaskier looks to Geralt and then back at the man.

“Ah, I’m flattered. It’s always nice to meet a fan, but you see—” Jaskier gestures to the horse and the man behind him. “—I’m in a hurry to leave town.”

Besides, he’s in no mood to converse right now. The quicker he can get Geralt alone, the better. With this weight on his chest, Jaskier feels so drained just talking to anyone but his witcher, let alone dealing with an enthusiastic fan.

“Oh but you must listen to my set first!” The boy looks at him expectantly. “I dream of writing a hit song just like Toss a Coin. I could be just as big—”

“I’d love to, but the circumstances won’t allow it.” With the biggest smile plastered on his face, Jaskier dismisses the guy. “I’m sure there’s promise in you, especially now you’ve chosen the correct role model—”

“You can go, Jaskier.”

Jaskier snaps his head to Geralt, confused as to what he just heard.

“We need to leave this morning, my dear. That’s the plan.” Jaskier frowns. “Remember?”

He excuses himself to the young man and drags Geralt away too quickly, too rudely—on another day he’d feel contrite ignoring a fan like this, but today he’s mind is occupied by something much more important.

Once out on the street and alone, Geralt’s befuddled frown deepens. “Why did you—”

“I need to tell you something,” Jaskier interrupts. “Before I say it, I know you will get mad at me, but you have to understand that the past year has been hard on me, Geralt. When you showed up in Oxenfurt out of the blue, I didn’t have enough time to process everything or what it would mean for us to travel together again. That’s why everything is so wrong now and I need to make it right.”

“I know what you want to say.”

The world stops.

All he can see is that pained look on Geralt’s face, the one that’s breaking his heart and making his blood run cold. Of course, he knows, witcher senses and all. As if Jaskier has ever gotten away with lying to Geralt’s face in the past.

“You do?” he breathes, the crack in his voice unmistakable.

Geralt lets out a sigh. He’s not mad. At least, he doesn’t look like he’s angry with Jaskier. “It’s been obvious in the past few days, and I… I do understand.”

“Oh.”

There’s still hope then. Jaskier just needs to come clean and apologize, and, definitely, throw whatever game he’s been playing out the window. They will be fine. The two of them, the bard and the witcher on the path, just like the old days—

“I can leave now,” Geralt starts. “With me gone, you’d be free to stay here for longer. You have so many things to see and so many people to meet. You can go back and talk to the boy. Finally, there’s someone who can wax lyrical with you. It’ll be for the best.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to say it, Jaskier. I can see now that it’s better if we part ways. Let’s not make things more difficult.”

Jaskier stares, gaping like a fish out of water. He can’t believe what he’s hearing, after all this time, after the mountain. Geralt wouldn’t do it.

He wouldn’t.

“You are leaving me here?”

Geralt looks as if he’s stricken. His shoulders tense like every time he wants to appear smaller.

“It’s for the best,” he repeats.

Jaskier shakes his head. “Wait, I thought you understood. I’m sorry, Geralt, for the past few days. I didn’t mean to… I wanted to apologize, so you know I didn’t mean it.”

The smile at the corners of Geralt’s lips is too sad.

“You don’t need to apologize. It wasn’t fair of me to ask it of you to begin with—”

“Ask me what?”

“—Us traveling together again… It was only wishful thinking. There was never a second chance and I never should have gone to find you.”

Jaskier takes a step back, swallowing the lump in his throat. Suddenly the collar of his doublet is too tight and the lute on his back is too heavy. He has to look away from Geralt’s resolute face just to stop the stinging in his eyes.

“You promised…” he mumbles. “You promised not to leave again.”

Geralt falters for a second, his hand resting on Roach’s saddle as if to steady himself. When he answers, his tone is cold, colder than Jaskier can take.

“How can I keep you when everything catches your eye, Jask? You are not made to stay... Not with me. Not after everything that happened.”

Disbelievingly, Jaskier retreats. His hand fists around the strap of his lute case, digging into his palm. “Not made to stay? Seriously?”

“It’s for the—”

“If you tell me it’s for the best one more time, I swear, Geralt…”

“Jaskier.”

Geralt calls out his name without heat like he’s placating an unreasonable child. Jaskier exhales in exasperation.

“Maybe you are right that it was only wishful thinking.” he forces the words out, his heart sinking. “For once it was actually my fault, and you can’t wait to ask for life’s one blessing again.”

“I—”

“Fine. Have at it,” Jaskier hisses. “I don’t care.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Jaskier lands the biggest lie he’s ever told in this mess. He drags his feet to cooperate, to take him away and put some distance between him and the worst disaster that’s ever descended upon his life.

Roach neighs, but the sound is far-away. Jaskier grabs at the doublet at his chest and wonders if the witcher-shaped hole within can ever be filled.

Jaskier doesn’t stop.

He walks into the bustling crowd of the market, heedless of cheery townspeople going about their day, and he keeps walking until the noise dies down.

Jaskier stops at the riverbank with nowhere to go, so he sits down on the ground and finally lets the dam break.

Crying does very little to ease the ache, and yet when the tears bring a release for the pent-up pressure in his chest. It’s hard to feel justified in letting the pain be cried away when he’s so aware of his own faults in the once-again ending of their companionship.

After all, Geralt couldn’t wait to throw him aside on top of that mountain when he’d done nothing wrong. What makes him think Geralt will tolerate him when he intentionally fucks things up.

Jaskier gasps for air, but only a whimper chokes out. How pathetic, to regret the most precious second chance destiny has ever granted him.

Now he knows for sure that he doesn’t deserve to cry, to let himself feel even just slightly better in the wake of his destruction.

Jaskier tries to stifle the tears with a hand at his mouth, and breathes. In and out, one breath after another. It’s like trying to contain a storm threatening to wreck through his entire being.

But he manages, after an eternity.

Jaskier sniffles one last time and wipes away the tear tracks. There’s a tremor in his hands but he pays no mind. The lute case is laying carelessly in the grass where he dropped it. He slings it onto his back and realizes that in a frenzy, he’s left everything else he owns in Roach’s saddlebags.

He could laugh at the idea of going back there, tail between his legs, as if being kicked out of Geralt’s life—for good this time—isn’t humiliating enough. His only hope hangs on the possibility that Geralt may have left his packs at the inn so they don’t have to face each other. Why would Geralt want to see him anyway? The witcher should be long gone.

Jaskier doesn’t make it too far when a streak of lilac pops out of nowhere.

“Oh! Here you are, Master Jaskier. You are a hard man to track down.”

The boy still looks too chirpy for Jaskier’s liking, too bright and too carefree. His mood is soured even further.

“Look, I’m not fit for company today.” Jaskier walks right past the young man, heedless of his insistence. “Mister—what is your name? Maybe you’ll catch me at the next festival if fate allows.”

The boy ignores his deflection and stops right in front of Jaskier’s face, which successfully draws his full attention and pisses him off completely. “I said—”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” The kid doesn’t relent. “I thought the witcher is determined to abandon you for the second time. Don’t you think he’ll stick to it this time?”

Strangely, the other man doesn’t look nearly as young up close. His face is youthful for sure, smooth and unblemished, and yet there’s an inexplicable weariness in his blue eyes. Now that Jaskier notices, these blue eyes look eerily similar to his own. With just the eyes, he could be looking into a mirror.

Jaskier wants to squirm.

“Did no one teach you that eavesdropping is rude?” He pauses, startled. “Wait, a second time… You knew—”

“Oh.” The man looks sheepish. “Can’t blame a fan for keeping tabs on you, can we?”

An overly zealous fan is nothing new, but somehow, this one sends a shiver down Jaskier’s spine.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Jaskier says, trying to back away. “I need to get back to town. You know, where the inspirations are, so I’ll find it in me to… um, compose more of those pieces you love so much.”

“Oh, don’t kid yourself! You are not going back to him, are you? Twenty years! All the sweat and blood and singing his praises and this is what you get after all this time!”

The guy grabs at Jaskier’s arm, which he shakes off in horror.

“You know nothing about me. Or Geralt.”

“That witcher will never see you!” he exclaims. “I was there when your first ballad swept the continent off its feet, Jaskier. From that moment on, I knew you were special. What appreciation has that mutant shown you? Only insults and scorn.”

“Geralt is not like that, he—”

Jaskier freezes to the spot.

He forces his attention back to the boy’s face. His eyes are still startlingly blue, even more so in anger. There’s not a single trace of age at his temples, and yet…

“My first song was twenty-two years ago,” Jaskier states, something akin to fear creeping into his voice. “What did you say your name was again?”

At those words, the man’s face shifts. It’s like watching someone shed a layer of skin, a façade, and another being emerges. A much more powerful one.

“Does it matter?” When he answers, there's magic in the air, sizzling with power. The blue of his eyes shimmers under the surface, ever so slightly. Jaskier’s heart clenches.

Not human.

Definitely not human.

“We never got to know each other, well,” Jaskier stalls. “I think now it’s not too late.”

He has an inkling that getting away will not be an easy feat. He can hope to distract this… this creature long enough for a chance to run. His hand tightens around the strap nervously, and the man’s eyes follow the movement without a beat.

Shit.

Jaskier turns to run, to take the lute case in his hands as a weapon, but it’s too late. The next thing he knows, the case is thrown against the ground and he’s backed against a tree. The other man’s grip around Jaskier’s wrists is like a vice, securing his hands right above him.

Jaskier wants to scream, but no sound escapes his throat. His body shakes all over, out of control.

“The fae never reveal our name easily,” the creature hisses.

Those blue eyes are too sharp and there’s a scent growing overwhelmingly strong. Fae, as it turns out, smell like newly cut grass and wildflowers, like the forest.

If only Jaskier can live long enough to share the trivia.

And then, with both their hands occupied, the fae presses his forehead to Jaskier. He struggles but to no avail.

The touch is cold and something is slipping into Jaskier’s mind like an icy stream in the spring. It trickles probs at every corner of his memories.

“Oh, even now you are loyal to the witcher. You still believe he’ll save you, little songbird.”

Jaskier’s vision turns fuzzy. His soundless whimpering breaks into breathless gasps, like a wounded animal waiting for a mercy kill. At the back of his mind, he’s achingly aware of Geralt’s absence. His witcher in shining armor won’t come this time, not after all the—

“All the pretty little lies. Every single one of them, born out of love, misguided.”

However true that statement is, Jaskier doesn’t want to hear it. His love for Geralt shouldn’t be spoken with malice. He fights against the fae’s iron hold with everything he can muster.

There’s a crack of bones before the pain hits him, exploding from his wrists all the way down his arms. Jaskier sobs, the edges of his vision darkening, the shock threatening to pull him under. He still can’t make a sound.

“What can we do?” The fae’s voice comes from a distant realm. “How can we have your loyalty as the witcher does? Oh, how fierce you are, songbird. To have your voice at our court… Perhaps, more lies will do. Yes, it was your choice, what your heart desired. A gift from us.”

Jaskier can’t process anything he’s hearing. He’s too tired from the searing pain in his wrists.

“Just a few lies. They’ll be easy to roll off the tongue, and yet, such powerful weapons.” The fae retreats. “A gift of lies. Thank you for the inspiration, Jaskier the bard. We hope you enjoy it as much as we will.”

Without the brute force holding up his body, Jaskier sagas against the tree, his legs unable to support his weight. His lungs burn and his mind turns fuzzy, bereft of the fae’s presence.

Jaskier needs to move, needs to scramble away from this place. But before the sweet relief of freedom even hits him, magic seizes him again and, finally, finally, a world-ending scream explodes from his lungs.

The world goes to black soon after.

Jaskier wakes to someone shaking his shoulder, someone gentle.

His body pulses like a bruised nerve. The back of his head feels like it’s been trampled by a whole army and his neck creaks at the barest move. Jaskier’s nose is buried in damp grass and he chokes, which jostles his neck even more.

He groans miserably and tries to touch, only to be stopped by the burning in his wrists. He lets out a hiss.

Right, broken bones. Blue eyes that look the same as his. Fae.

“Careful… Fuck, Jaskier, what happened?”

A gravelly voice comes through the fog.

Geralt.

Oh, Jaskier can sob with relief. He arches his back, slowly propping himself up on his elbows. His eyes are so sore from lying on the ground face down, but the sight of his witcher is unmistakable.

Jaskier wants to call out for his witcher, but a sob is the only thing that gets out. He cradles his hands and finds his right wrist is swollen red and sensitive to the touch, but the left looks more or less the same. Only a throbbing pain tugging at his fingertips.

He reaches to the back of his head with his left hand, where the crick is prickling at his nerves, only to find a gash at his nape and hair caked with blood. He doesn’t remember hitting his head while falling. He doesn’t remember falling at all.

So, one wrist sprained, the other broken, plus a gaping hole in his head. Jaskier can cope.

If he doesn’t die from the embarrassment, that is. He whines pathetically, already exhausted.

“I told you not to move.” Geralt catches Jaskier’s tilting body. Amber gold flows with concern. “What happened to you, Jask?”

The question comes out soft, more of a whisper to the witcher himself than demanding answers. Jaskier’s lips wobble at the endearment. He needs to tell Geralt everything. Fuck his injured pride. Geralt came for him. This wonderful, beautiful, sweet man came to him after the disaster that is this morning and he’s still trying to help Jaskier.

All because Geralt is safety. He’s safety and home, and Jaskier needs to tell him—

“None of your business, witcher.”

It takes a moment for Jaskier to register what left his lips, the venom that drips from these words so foreign. He’s never aimed at Geralt before. From the looks of it, Geralt is equally startled if the tiny crease by his lips is any indication.

“You hit your head,” Geralt says patiently, hovering close to Jaskier’s face in an attempt to check the wound on his neck. “It’s bad. Here, let me see—”

“Get your filthy hands away from me!”

The words fly out on their own volition. Jaskier flinches, the same time as Geralt takes back his hand as if burned. He closes his mouth with a pop and the feeling of something severely wrong weighs down on his stomach. That’s not what he meant, not at all. The only thing he wants to do is lean into Geralt’s touch and melt into a puddle. Whyever did his mouth betray his heart? Why did he…

Why did he…

…Lie?

His mind focuses on a sing-songy voice.

A gift from us.

A gift of lies.

It’s like a bucket of ice water thrown over Jaskier’s head. He sobers up immediately. The inspiration they took from him. The fae’s gift.

The fae’s curse.

Geralt’s brows are knitted together, amber eyes imbued with hurt. He is still crouched in front of Jaskier, hands fisted at his side and shoulders taut. He’s got the look now, that lost look that only appears when a mob drives him out of town with pitchforks and stones. Jaskier has seen that look one too many times.

And now he's the one causing it.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks, shocked, unsure.

Jaskier breathes hard and tastes the bile rising in his throat. Geralt doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to have that hopeless look on his face or to be shunned by the world, by anyone, and least of all, by someone he’s let stay beside him for so many years. By the Gods, Jaskier needs to let Geralt know he’s the kindest person on earth and more human than any human. He’s Jaskier’s friend and protector, his dream, his heart—

“You are a mutant, a freak,” Jaskier feels the words slip out, too late to realize the mistake of opening his mouth. “No better than the monsters you slay.” The magic compels his tongue. He bites down on it but it’s only futile. “You feel nothing and give nothing but death to those around you.”

Jaskier recoils, tasting blood. In front of him, Geralt mirrors his movement. The entire time, the wolf medallion rests against his chest plate, Jaskier’s last hope, sitting still and unresponsive.

And Geralt…

He doesn’t defend himself.

Of course not. Geralt never defends himself against the stoning even when he can easily defeat most humans with his bare hands. There’s a faded scar near his hairline, a solid proof of men’s capacity for prejudice and violence.

Now Jaskier has joined their ranks.

Geralt looks like he’s been suck-punched in the gut, his eyes wide and crestfallen. And yet, wide amber eyes gaze upon Jaskier without accusation, only quiet acceptance. Jaskier shudders with disgust and fear, which must be the reason Geralt is backing away further.

“I’ll leave… If you—” he pauses, before standing up. “I see. This is goodbye, Jaskier.”

Don’t go!

“Get away then!”

Jaskier shakes his head, putting all the force he can muster into biting into his lips, scared of what may come out. His wrists burn but he has to force his mouth shut by pressing his palms over it.

Why can’t Geralt see that something’s wrong? Why can’t he see Jaskier?

See me! Jaskier pleads silently through the tears.

Geralt’s face falters as he spares one last glance at Jaskier.

Look what you’ve done to him, the sing-songy voice returns. This is your choice. You chose to lie, little poet. Be careful what you wish for.

Jaskier crumbles like a puppet with his strings cut. He barely contains the choked-out whimpers. The burning in his lungs is nothing compared to the anguish. He could die at this moment and it would be a sweet release. Hurting Geralt like this, it’s worse than a thousand broken bones and a million cuts on his skin. In the darkest corners of his mind, he wants Geralt to walk away from him. If Jaskier has to spew any more venom towards the man he’s loved for more than half of his life, he’d surely want to walk into the ocean and never come out.

He presses his ears to the grass and remembers the cold wind on the mountain. He was a fool to hope Geralt could come to him then. He is a fool now.

The witcher drags his feet away, one step after another, trampling the soft flora under him, and then—

And then, by some miracle, he stops.

Jaskier watches as his witcher turns around and rushes back to his side, his jaw clenched and eyes determined. His heart bursts with hope, but his fists press against his mouth harder. There’s more blood coating his tongue.

“I can’t,” Geralt states as he kneels next to Jaskier’s curled body. The betrayal in his eyes ebbs away and in its place is something…tortured.

Jaskier shakes his head, or is he trembling again? His vision swims with blood loss. He won’t be able to stay awake for long.

“I can’t leave you here, Jaskier,” he muses to himself, frowning deep. “Shit. You are bleeding again.”

Jaskier scoffs into his fist, almost hysterical.

“You are in shock, and you are about to pass out. I don’t know what happened, but your wrists are a mess. Jaskier…” The name comes out like a prayer. “I heard your wishes. Loud and clear, this time. I know you loathe my presence in your life, but… I have to make sure you’ll get better. Please, forgive me.”

Geralt tries to gently pry Jaskeir’s hands away, but he struggles blindly. Through the haze of his mind, Jaskier’s last thought reminds him to keep his mouth closed.

“Forgive me,” Geralt mutters in anguish, “I can’t let you hurt yourself because of me. Forgive me, just one more time.”

His hand makes the familiar sign of Axii, and everything turns…soft.

The pain is gone, the magical hold on his tongue too. Jaskier loses himself in the mellow sensation of giving up control. The ground disappears under his body and his head lolls against Geralt’s chest.

“I was wrong.” Regret rumbles deep in Geralt’s chest. “I was the curse that befell you. After all the hurt you’ve received by my side, Gods, and I still can’t keep myself away from you. I will not make the mistake of forcing myself into your life again, Jask. Allow me a few days to see you safe, and then... Never again.”

The vow is so wrong, but Jaskeir is powerless to protest. He catches a broken whisper before darkness claims him for the second time on the same day.

“I’m sorry, Jaskier. For my heart.”

Jaskier welcomes the oblivion that drags him under, as well as the nightmares that follow.

I'm...sorry.

One more chapter to go. Hopefully this time I won't have to up the chapter count. Some real communication and comfort are on the way! <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @a-kind-of-merry-war @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #lying spell #cursed jaskier #miscommunication #mutual pining #jaskier fucks up real good in this one #and bears the consequences #geralt x jaskier #again i'm sorry #i meant to end it with geralt walking away #and thought #in this economy?#but somehow this is... worse?#hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #hurt geralt #everytime i hurt geralt's heart i go 🥺🥺

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inknopewetrust · 3 years

Text

A Little Chaos

Summary: A thief finds herself at the center of the kidnapping of two girls and has the attention one very attractive detective.

Pairing: Detective Loki x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Criminal activity, flirting, sexual references, brief choking, probably 16+ based on content but no explicit smut. A mention of pedophilia but nowhere near in detail.

A/N: I don't think I've ever written something like this and can I just say that I really loved it!? So, I really hope you all do too! Requests are currently CLOSED but I hope to open them soon again and with new characters to add to my list. Check out my Masterlist for all other works. Thanks so much for requesting this @mrs-blooooom! I just loved the idea so much and thanks for being so kind about all the delays!

One - pick the lock

Two - lift up the screen and frame as quietly as possible but make absolutely no rough work of it.

Three - slip on the shoe covers and assess the gloves before entering through the window.

Four - get to work.

That was always the structure, no questions asked. Though, you noticed the news beginning to trace your patterns. You had made a hit in another neighborhood two weeks ago and because the news began reporting the patters, you were sure the police weren’t far behind.

And perhaps on that particular Thanksgiving, you shouldn’t have done another–or picked that house, rather.

Detective David Loki had a million different things running through his mind on a daily basis. When a case such as the Dover-Birch one stuck itself in the middle of an already pending investigation of burglaries in the Conyer’s area, he had a hunch of who he would investigate first. But he couldn’t get to that immediately because Keller Dover convinced him and his superiors that the RV belonging to Alex Jones was the first and only way to go.

But even after interrogating the man who had a child-like innocence to him, David Loki was convinced there was something more to the story. There had to have been a connection to who burglarized the Dover’s that same night and where the girls could be... he was certain, but then he wasn’t because he wasn’t sure you were the kind of person who would kidnap two innocent girls.

On a particularly slow Tuesday, no new leads had come in and the investigation had stalled because Alex Jones had now gone missing without a trace. Although he was doing everything he could, Loki was far from finding a solution and decided to take the initiative into his own hands and dive into the file he had been working on for nearly five months–the one into you and your less-than-stellar activities. The post-it note sticking out of the side of the manilla folder contained an address to an apartment in the center of town. He plucked it out, tucked it into his pocket and walked straight out of the station.

You weren’t worried about being considered a suspect in the kidnapping of two girls. You had no connection to the Dover’s, Birches’, or the Jones’, as well as no connection to the scene of the crime. You were always careful, and the Dover’s had no security cameras. So, when your comm buzzed in the middle of the day, you weren’t expecting it to be the police.

“Hello?”

“Ms. L/n? This is Detective Loki with the Conyer’s Police Department. I have a few questions I would like to ask you.” The voice was cackled with the circuited communication buzzer but you heard the man loud and clear. You also knew exactly who that was.

Detective David Loki was an infamous creature of Conyers. One day he just seemed to sprout out of nowhere and into the public sphere, but you had known him for a while. You were never friends, and you were sure until now he didn’t even know your name, but he was the star pupil of the town. And the spotlight he was in, he absolutely hated it. Every time his picture appeared in the paper or when he had to speak on the television relayed that message and you laughed in pity. The poor man just wanted to do his job and that was one part he didn’t sign up for.

“Can I ask what this is regarding?”

“The investigation into Joy Birch and Anna Dover. I just have a few questions I’d like to ask you if you would step-”

“I’ll buzz you up.” You pressed the button and unlocked the door, opening it just enough for you to rest on the frame with one arm on the door and the other on your hip.

Another thing you knew about Detective David Loki was that he was one of the most attractive people you had ever laid eyes on. The man was a walking dream but unfortunately, on the other side of the law which was far from promising when it came to your vivid imagination.

“How nice of you to not barge into my home, Detective.” You called out to him as he appeared on the steps landing just down the hall from your door. Loki gave no smile but shoved an orange post-it into his jacket as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“This surely won’t take long.”

With a nod you moved away from the door, shutting it closed behind you. With the sudden and unexpected presence of this man who was a fine line between formal detective and loose cop, there was an urge to be exactly the opposite of what he wanted you to be. He had been trailing you for just enough time to learn patterns in your life, the people you associate with, the fact that you had a degree and a decent job. You had an apartment to call your own, a car that wasn’t stolen and yet you continued to break into people's homes and steal curious objects for what? Consignment sales? He wasn’t sure. But you weren’t going to give him the answers he was looking for. You enjoyed the life you built for yourself...even if you had to steal and sell things to arrive at ends meet to pay for everything in your life.

“So... what can I do for you?”

“Can you recall where and what you were going on the night of Thursday, November 28th?”

“Thanksgiving?” You asked with a raised brow and he nodded. Loki pulled out no notebook to take notes, rather he watched every movement. He was trying to identify guilt, but you were a casual sleuth. It wasn’t a game he was used to because all of his suspects eventually gave in.

“I got up around 8:30, maybe 9 and ate some breakfast, um I-” You took a seat on the arm of your couch, running a hand over your mouth trying to “remember” what exactly you were doing a few days ago.

“-took a shower and then got started on my dish to pass at my parents dinner. I made sweet potatoes and stuffing-or dressing... I don’t know what you call it.” Loki was far from amused that you were making this appear less than serious. He couldn’t let himself believe that you were stupid enough to believe he wasn’t there on behalf of the story that captured the attention of the entire nation, so he didn’t believe a word you said.

“When that was done I got ready, did my makeup, and headed out to my parents where my sister and her family were meeting us to have dinner. Then I left their house around 7-ish and came home.”

“After dinner you went straight home?”

“Yes.”

You looked at him with an unfazed gaze which he met but didn’t buy. It was a game. A cat and mouse game that he wasn’t willing to bite into but it was too late, you already had him on a string. Loki would be lying if he didn’t find you attractive, even in the slightest. You were a beautiful woman, and it was because of how you looked that you’ve never been caught. You always covered every inch of your body and you looked unassuming. You had a perfectly pristine house, looked like someone who didn’t need to steal to live but then again, most of the time, all the people who do steal never look like they would because that is what people are taught not to look for.

“I made some phone calls late last week and someone in your family spilled that you weren’t there. In fact, you haven’t been to a family holiday since you graduated college nearly ten years ago. Bad relationship?”

“I can assure you–whoever you talked to, they weren’t there. I was there. I can tell you what I wore, what I ate, what was on the T.V. and what color shoe my nephew was wearing that day.”

“Those could just be good guesses?” Loki let his eyes wander around the small living space. He looked at the picture frames, the vases, the bins, the T.V. stand, everything that could have screamed “out of place” to him but nothing did.

“You didn’t happen to pass two little girls on your drive home, did you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Two girls. I’m sure you’ve seen their picture on the news.” Loki pointed to the T.V. at first but then dug into his pocket and pulled out a single picture of two girls photographed on a playground. They were smiling widely and happily at the person behind the camera. You had never seen the girls so you shook your head no and crossed your arms.

“No. I’ve never seen them before. Am I supposed to?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

“What are you implying, detective?”

“Do you know the house you broke into on Thursday, November 28th was the home of Anna Dover. Anna and her friend Joy went missing that same night after returning to the Dover residence to find a whistle. You were inside the home at the time we believe the girls went missing. So, tell me–do you know where the girls are?” Loki was zoned in accusation. The man was unwavering in his tone or his assumption and you would say it was scary if you didn’t find it attractive. Why, God WHY, did the detective working on this case have to be everything you looked for in a man? It would be so much easier if he were old and wrinkled but he was far far from it.

“Detective, if I would have known you would come into my home and accuse me of kidnapping two innocent girls, I wouldn’t have answered the ring.”

“Where are the two girls? Do you know where they are?”

“No. I told you I didn’t take the girls.”

“But you were in the house? Did you see the girls?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“What if I told you that you were a sloppy thief?”

“Excuse me?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. You were certain that you were not. There was never a time where you left as much as a trace of hair in a location that you hit.

“The bin.” Loki walked over to the T.V. stand that had three white bins tucked into slots. The bins were generally filled with junk except for one thing that the Dover’s told him went missing yesterday afternoon. A medium size blue decorative pot with yellow flowers on its sides. It was meant for shallow flowers as a table center piece that was gifted to Keller and Grace on their wedding day. Grace was distraught over it and it was sitting the left-most bin under the television. Loki pulled open the drawer and carefully took out the pot and you looked at it with a shrug.

“Where did you get this?”

“My mother.”

“I thought I told you that they told me you haven’t spoken to them in a decade?”

“Well I obviously spoke to them before that.”

“I am going to ask you again and I want an honest answer. Where did you get this pot?”

What were you supposed to do? The man literally cracked the code. If only you hadn’t chosen that house. Oh! How much easier your life would be.

“I plead the fifth.” Oh, fuck.

Loki set the pot carefully down and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. It would have been hot if you weren’t terrified of what came next. Then you made an ill-timed joke.

“You’re not pulling those out for another reason are you?” You didn’t even laugh yourself because he simply ignored it and motioned for you to stand and turn around.

“I am going to take you to the station and we will talk more there. Stand up, turn around, and give me your hands.”

“I already told you I don’t know where the girls are.” Ignored again but the feeling of him pushing your shoulder with his hand and taking your wrist was something you wished you would stop replaying in your mind.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything-”

The Conyer’s Police Station was wimpy compared to other cities. It was a small, single story brick building with three holding rooms and one interrogation room. You weren’t sure how long you sat in the holding cell, but it was nighttime by the time you were taken out of the room by another officer and into a brightly lit, slightly yellowed room with a mirrored window and a small desk with two chairs. There was a pencil and a pad of paper at the center of it but you were sure if it was going to be Detective Loki interrogating you, he wouldn’t need it.

The officer uncuffed you with no words spoken and pointed at the chair facing the window. You rubbed your wrists from the friction the metal left before taking a seat and staring into the glass where your reflection met your own. You had nothing to do with the two missing girls so you had nothing to give them, or rather, nothing to give Loki to further his investigation.

The man of the hour waltzed into the room a mere five minutes after you were sat down. He had a half-drank cup of coffee in one hand and a small grouping of papers in the other. Loki sat down, settling himself before looking up at you and beginning the interrogation.

“Please state your name, age, and address.”

You recited the information as told.

“How many homes a year do you burglarize?" Loki opened a file that was tucked under some papers with a series of pictures printed on a piece of computer paper. It was amalgamation of missing objects from families around Conyers. You were fucked, but you couldn't let him think that, or at least believe that you were guilty in anyway. Your stealing wasn't going to find those girls because you had no idea where in the world they were. You had never seen them before their faces were plastered on every hour of the news.

"Shouldn't my lawyer be here if you are going to accuse me of something?"

"Do you need a lawyer?"

"Do I, Detective?"

It was the attitude that angered him the most. A woman like you didn't need to steal. Based on your records, he had no reason to truly believe you would. Clean record. No screaming signs of intent or distrust popped out but he knew you were guilty. There was not a doubt. But there was something in that attitude that made him squirm. An attractive quality that he did not want to admit.

"If you answer the questions I ask truthfully, then no, you won't need a lawyer."

"Ask away." You leaned back in the chair with arms crossed and a determined narrowness to your eyes. It was a challenge. Try me, Detective. Do it, I dare you.

"When did you first start stealing?"

"When I was seven. My sister always had better stuff, so I took it."

"And that escalated to...what?" Instead of leaning back on his own chair, Loki leaned forward. His shoulders were hunched in an aggressive, intense tactic to scare you into admitting something that you didn't have any part of. He just wanted to find those girls and you happen to be a speed bump in the way.

"Minor petty theft. I never take anything over $500."

"How do you know what something is worth?"

"I'm sure you can find that in my file, Detective. Everything is there I am sure of it. You all know just how to frame the people you want. But I had nothing to do with those girls."

Loki's line of aggravation was growing thin. Sooner or later, attitude wasn't going to cut it and he was going to have to use the tactics he used on Alex Jones and other potential perpetrators on you. He never liked to get outright violent with women, but he couldn't let this go without trying to get something. The days were wearing thin and he needed to find Joy and Anna.

"You were in the Dover's house the night of the abduction. Where are the girls?"

"I told you I didn't have anything to do with that."

"Didn't or don't."

"Doesn't matter. I did not see them. I do not know where they are. Ruining children's lives isn't my MO, Detective-"

"But you do and you did! YOU were in that house. YOU were at the scene of the crime at the time they went missing. YOU are the one who knows what happened to those girls!" His voice was no longer steady and calm as he had been taught during his training. His string had snapped when in response, you laughed.

Loki flew out of his chair, rounded the table as the sound of his chair skidded across the floor and to the wall behind him. If you weren't so focused on him, you probably could have heard the surprised yells of the Detectives and Officers behind the mirror. The angered Detective roughly arrived at his destination–you, and grabbed the back of your hair, pulling your head back to look at him as he stood over you.

"Where the fuck are the girls?" It came out like a hiss. His eyes enraged with pain for the families and his own reputation if the case goes wrong and he doesn't find them in enough time. You weren't scared of him or his tactics. Rather, it was quite the opposite. If he wasn't attractive, you would have been disgusted but the man was the epitome of perfection and this scene would be one to get you off for years to come.

"I told you, I don't know where the girls are." He gripped your hair harder and you felt the chair waver underneath you. Still not scared.

"You're a liar, a fucking thief, and I don't believe you. Where are the girls? Do you like that sort of thing, huh? Do-"

"You sick fuck. I'm a thief not a fucking pedophile. I didn't take the girls!" You were slightly taken aback by his suggestion, but it was all a tactic. You had seen it on millions of police shows before. He just wanted answers, but he wasn't going to find them with you. Whatever in the sentence you had just spoken to him, Loki was worse off for it. He practically lifted you by the hair and charged you into the wall roughly. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make a point. He wasn't playing around but neither were you.

Loki's hand let go of your hair and one found itself on the wall next to your head as he closed in on you. You could feel his breathe on your face and his eyes pierced your goddamned soul. The other, well the other found itself right on your neck, holding you in place against the wall with a slight squeeze. Holy fuck.

"Keep this up Detective and I would have the means to believe this might lead to something else." The smile, your smile crept up on your face at your own assumption. You wouldn't complain if it did escalate to that.

"TELL ME WHERE THE GIRLS ARE? WHERE IS ANNA? WHERE IS JOY?"

"I told you I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE GIRLS ARE!"

There was something in your own anger that made him want to believe you didn't take the girls or had any clue where they were. He would hate to see a woman like you throw your life away for a career of crime. The proximity between the two of you was next to none. A knife wouldn't have been able to break the tension and the way he held you, unintentionally violent with a hand just a little too suggestively on your neck was a mistake but not one that he was readily going to admit. If this was any other situation, he might have let himself be willing to feel something more. But this was an interrogation, so he kept the face and squeezed just a little harder.

"Where are they? Tell me where they are?"

"Starting to sound like a broken record there. I would tell you again but I'm sure you have my admission of NOT KNOWING WHERE THEY ARE ON TAPE!"

Loki had enough and let your neck go with a jolt. His hands went to his belt where his cuffs were sitting and he pulled them out and turned you around. Your body was flush against the wall and one of his large, tattooed hands held your wrists together as he went to cuff them. This was another thing that would forever be engrained in your "sexy when it shouldn't be" file in your brain.

"Fine. You won't tell me where they are? Maybe a night in lock up will make you think." His voice was low, just at the base of your ear and his hot breath lingered on your neck as you could hear nothing but your heart beating out of your chest and the sound of cuffs closing.

But the man didn't get much further than that because the door to the room opened and like two deer in headlights, you both turned your heads to the sound of the intruder. It was another officer who looked both scared and amused and slightly embarrassed in regard to what he walked in on. He approached Loki as the latter man pulled you off the wall and forward, in front of him to walk toward the door.

"It was the hospital. Joy Birch was just admitted."

The look on Loki's face was priceless. You literally scoffed out loud and turned your face to his.

"I told you I had no fucking idea where they were."

Loki simply passed you over to the other officer and headed to the door, frustrated and confused about his own work and internal feelings about what had just happened–both the realization that you had no idea where they were and that he had been aggressive to the point where it kind of turned him on.

"Detective!" He was halfway out the door when you called out to him and if he had a mind, he would have ignored you and continued on, but he was so flustered that he did.

"If you ever want to use those cuffs sometime, you know where to find me."

Loki didn't say anything, but his eyes wandered. From your face to your body to the floor and back up. It was an unashamed look that made the officer uncomfortable, but you couldn't help but let a small, sly smile grace your face at his look. This man would be the end of your criminal career if he managed to find the time to reunite with you again.

And he did. Two days after Keller Dover was found in a hole and on a holiday he knew you were not going to spend with your family.

#Detective Loki x Reader #Detective Loki x Female Reader #Prisoners #Prisoners 2013 #Jake Gyllenhaal x oc #Jake Gyllenhaal x Reader #David Loki x reader #David Loki x Female Reader #Detective Loki x fem reader #Detective Loki #fanfic #writer #x reader #x female reader #i imagine after the christmas trist reader does in fact serve time for theft. but we ignore that for now.

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sachigram · 3 years

Text

“With Teeth” Chapter 5

((click here to read on ao3!!))

Izaya is frowning down at his computer, his hands hovering above the keys of his keyboard, not moving. Next to him, Namie is typing away, a bemused little smirk on her face. She's enjoying this, clearly, and she's itching to say something biting.

“You're handling this better than I thought you would,” she says, her tone forcibly bored. Izaya blinks at her, lifting his hand to motion for her to continue. “Your little monster friend has a girlfriend now. He'll have less time for you, right? I assumed you'd be setting fires across the city by now.”

“You know what they say about assuming,” Izaya says breezily. “If anything, she's distracting him enough to leave me be.”

The chatroom is full of people chattering away about Shizuo and Vorona, who are spending a lot of time together, holding hands, exchanging glances, sharing beverages. It's sickening. Izaya feels vaguely nauseous just reading about it, but he thinks that's probably due to his insane schedule at the moment, and his lack of sleep. He keeps meaning to take a healing potion, but he forgets every time.

“Distracting. Right.” Namie types another response, fanning the flames of all the rumors circulating about Ikebukuro's hottest couple. Her smirk drops, and Izaya can't resist the temptation to dip into her mind, just a little, to see why she isn't enjoying this as much as she thought she would.

She's thinking of Seiji, of course, but also of Mika, and of Celty's head, and all the times she's been overlooked in favor of someone else. She thinks Shizuo dating Vorona is distasteful, because she's set on the idea that Shizuo must be fucking Izaya, and that's why he comes by so often. Izaya withholds a snort at that, and he graciously doesn't comment on the fact that Namie could probably have anyone she wanted, if she wasn't so obsessed with her own brother.

“Who cares, anyway?” Namie asks, closing her laptop. “The two of them together probably have conversations as interesting as watching paint dry. It's not worth even talking about anymore.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Izaya says, pushing away from his desk. He tilts his head at her. “Let's order out for dinner. My treat.”

“In that case, I'm craving something expensive.”

“Of course you are.”

***

Izaya is watching the sunset from a small window when he realizes he must have fallen asleep. He isn't at home anymore, and this is beginning to feel like the kind of dream he's been dreading to have lately, one where he knows Shizuo will show up at some point.

“Who are you?” A child's voice asks from behind him. Izaya turns, looking down at Shizuo, who is in a hospital bed, his arms wrapped, a brace around his neck. He's frowning up at Izaya, who sighs loudly before plopping into the vacant chair next to the bed.

“Oh, why does it even matter? You won't call me by my name anyway.” Izaya pulls his knees up to his chest and studies Shizuo closely. “You're here alone?”

“My family just left.” Shizuo looks up at the ceiling, seeming to decide that Izaya isn't a threat to him. “They used to stay with me a lot, but this happens all the time now, so they can't stick around as much.”

“I see.”

“I'll only be here one night anyway.”

“So who was it this time? Was it another fight?” Izaya asks.

“It's not like I wanted to fight.” Shizuo's eyebrow twitches. “I threw a swingset.”

“A swingset?”

“Yeah, but apparently it was bolted into the ground or something. Really fucked me up.”

Izaya can't help it. He laughs hard, curling into himself as he does so.

“Hey, fuck you, it isn't funny!” Shizuo snaps, but he seems to be trying not to laugh himself. “Well, maybe it was a little. The look on their faces was pretty funny.”

“Did you at least manage to hit them?” Izaya asks, still giggling at the mental image.

“No. Turns out all the time I spent lifting it gave them some time to escape.”

Izaya laughs harder. When was the last time he found something this genuinely funny? Lately all he does is work until he passes out, and he deserves it, he knows. Still, as he feels tears stinging the corner of his eyes, he thinks he feels good now, here with this kid version of Ikebukuro's monster. There doesn't seem to be anything else to do but talk to him, and their dreams keep connecting them no matter what Izaya does. He's tired of fighting it.

Shizuo is gazing at him with poorly concealed awe and wonder.

Pretty.

Izaya snorts at Shizuo's thought. What's so pretty about this scene right now? The sunset outside? The various machines hooked to Shizuo, beeping idly in the background? Shizuo keeps looking at him, and Izaya realizes, feels his face grow hot.

“Who are you?” Shizuo asks again.

“Your worst enemy.”

“Really? You don't seem all that bad.” Shizuo shifts a bit, winces. “You're not scared of me, are you?”

“Not now, not ever.”

Shizuo nods, and his lip wobbles. “People tell me all the time they aren't scared of me, but I know they are, deep down. How could they not be? They'd have to be crazy. But...” Shizuo chokes up, laughs a little. “I can tell you mean it. And if that makes you crazy, I think that's okay, because it feels good to not be feared, for once.”

Izaya lowers his legs, leaning closer to the bed. He idly touches the flimsy fabric of the blanket draped over Shizuo, who is watching him curiously. Izaya looks away.

“Sometimes you're so pathetically simple it makes me want to vomit. Sometimes it feels like a chore, hating you. Did you know that?” Izaya asks softly, and there's a long pause after his words, no sounds aside from their breathing. Even the machines have somehow gone quiet.

“So then why do you?” Shizuo asks at last.

“Isn't it funny that it's been so long of us hating each other that I forgot what caused it in the first place? I think you did, too.” Izaya crosses his arms over the bed, puts his head down. “People like us will always be at each other's throats. It's just the way it is.”

“You sound like a grownup,” Shizuo says, glaring now. “They always say that, when they don't know the answer to something. 'It's just the way it is.' If you don't know, then why does it matter in the first place?”

“Believe it or not, I am a grownup. I'm only a kid right now because you're one, too. We're always the same age in these dreams, even if only one of us remembers the future at a time.” Izaya lifts his head enough to grin at Shizuo, who blushes and immediately turns away. He seems to be trying to gather the courage to say something, but there's suddenly a knock at the door, and Izaya turns towards it. “Expecting someone else?”

“Huh?”

“There's knocking.”

“I don't hear anything.”

Izaya stands. “Oh. This may be in real life. I think I'm waking up.”

“Waking up? Does that mean leaving?” Shizuo's eyes look panicked. “When will you be back?”

“I never know. Why do you keep wanting to see me so badly? You're the one pulling me back here, you have to be.” The room starts to grow fuzzy as the dreamscape begins to fall apart around them.

“You're not scared of me. You laughed at me instead of running— Fuck!” Shizuo seems to be trying to get up to grab Izaya, but he can't with his arms bandaged. “Tell me your name so I can find you again!”

“You'll just call me a flea anyway, won't you? So it doesn't matter.”

***

Izaya opens his eyes to discover he passed out at his desk at some point. He sits up and frowns at the container of pasta next to him. He remembers ordering dinner for himself and Namie, and then...

“Ugh. Of course she just left,” Izaya mutters to himself. Namie is an opportunist if nothing else. She isn't the type to stick around and see what happens next, unlike Izaya. Another knock sounds at the door. “Who is it?” Izaya calls, feeling sluggish. He checks his phone to find he's been asleep for about two hours.

“Me!” Shinra's voice replies, muffled from the door. “Let me in, would you? I've been knocking forever!”

Grumbling, Izaya makes his way across the room, opening it for Shinra, who waltzes inside like he owns the place.

“Hi! I'm working late tonight, and I didn't have time to eat dinner before I left, so I figured while I was in Shinjuku I could come see what you had—“ Shinra stops talking and tilts his head to the side, observing Izaya. “You look awful. What have you been up to?”

“Also working,” Izaya says. He reaches up to wipe crusted drool from the corner of his mouth. “So you came to raid my fridge?”

“Ah, yes!” Shinra turns and continues his march to the kitchen. “I just got done with an emergency call, and next I'll be going to visit another patient. I didn't want fast food, so here I am! Did Yagiri-san make anything?”

“Should be leftovers somewhere around here.” Izaya looks back at his own pasta, feels his stomach rumble. He can't remember the last time he really ate or slept fully.

“Why don't we eat something together?” Shinra asks. “You look ready to fall over.”

Izaya ends up tossing the pasta. It was congealed together, and not very good in the first place. Namie picked the place to order from, but he'll definitely complain enough about it later to where they don't order from there again. Shinra actually goes through the trouble of throwing together some fried rice, because Izaya doesn't have the ingredients for much else. He'll have to send Namie for groceries.

“So what are you working on so religiously, anyway?” Shinra asks as they sit down. “I haven't seen you this absorbed in work for a while.”

“It's not just one assignment, but multiple. All of them are due around the same time.” Izaya eats a bite of rice and shrugs. “It's just poor timing.”

“More than that though, right? I heard Shiki-san was pissed at you for multiple reasons. Sounds like he's keeping you overloaded on purpose.” Shinra smirks at him. “You can never leave well-enough alone, Izaya-kun.”

“'Well-enough',” Izaya scoffs. “If he had his way, I'd be locked in a cage, of use only to him and his little cronies.”

“That's what you signed up for. You'll get yourself killed if you keep meddling. I mean, come on, Akane-chan? What did you think would happen by sending her off on her own like that?”

“Who says I was behind any of that? Akane-chan has a smartphone. Kids like her are always going to be involved in things, because they want better than they're given.”

“I don't believe you, and I know Shiki-san doesn't, either. It's clear he's punishing you, but...” Shinra leans closer, lowers his voice like he thinks Shiki is in the next room. “To be honest, I thought you'd have it way worse than this. You ordered Shizuo-kun's attack too, didn't you? I thought Shiki-san would hang you upside-down.”

“Again, Shinra, you're reaching way too far. I never said I was responsible for Shizu-chan either.”

Shinra pouts, and then sits back in his chair, shoveling down more rice. “Fine. Don't tell me. Just take better care of yourself, at any rate. It's not like you can't cure the effects of fatigue with your power. You're choosing to suffer, right? But then again, you've always been like that.”

“Don't you have another appointment soon?” Izaya asks, annoyed by Shinra and his big mouth. He's often wondered if friendship is supposed to be this exhausting, but it isn't like he has anything else to compare it to. Shinra was always the only one crazy enough to stick around.

“I'm only saying. You should accept your punishments and actually learn something from them every now and then. It seems like you just bounce back, more determined to make a nuisance of yourself than before.”

“If I don't make a nuisance of myself, I'll die from boredom,” Izaya lilts. “It's really that simple.”

“More like you're worried about being forgotten.”

Izaya resists the urge to throw something at Shinra, who is wearing a strange expression, something akin to actual concern.

“You've improved on your acting ability,” Izaya says, pushing away from the table. “Don't act friendly towards me now. It doesn't suit you.”

“I am your friend,” Shinra insists. “I'm the only one you've got, so maybe you should listen to me once in a while.”

“It always goes back to Celty anyway. What, are you worried I'm going to use her for something too dangerous?”

“Celty agrees with me that it's unusual for you to allow Shizuo-kun to be in your space as you have. Are you actually feeling guilty?”

“Are you?” Izaya stands and grabs a bottle of red wine from his counter before he pads over to his desk. “I don't have the time for this, Shinra. See yourself out when you're ready to go.”

Shinra sighs loudly, finishes his dinner, and picks up his briefcase. He walks towards the door.

“Take care of yourself, Izaya-kun. If you even know how to.”

Izaya uses his magic to slam the door shut behind Shinra, and then he drinks until he passes out.

***

He wakes hours later, in bed somehow.

Groaning, he sits up, trying to remember the night before. His mouth feels like cotton, and his head feels like it's trying to split itself open. He thinks he may throw up at some point in the very near future.

“Feeling better?” Tsukumoya asks from beside him. The shades are drawn closed, and the room is still dark despite the sun being out. Izaya glares at the vampire in his space.

“Why are you here?” he croaks.

“You don't remember? You invited me. We fucked.” Tsukumoya has his laptop, and is typing ridiculously fast even as he speaks. “It was quite the evening.”

“I'm serious. You just keep popping up. It's annoying.”

“Mm. I had a feeling you were being your usual destructive self. There's water for you on your nightstand.”

Izaya reaches next to him, grabs the glass before chugging it. His stomach immediately churns dangerously in protest.

“Why not take a healing potion? I know you have plenty of them,” Tsukumoya says, still not looking at him.

“Don't need it.”

“Right, you don't. The great Orihara Izaya doesn't need anything or anyone, how could I forget?” Tsukumoya finally glances over at him. “You might need to reconsider. Tonight's the night of the full moon. You'll need to be alert when your puppy visits.”

“Fuck, is it? I forgot all about it.” Izaya groans and flops back into the bed, rolling away from the annoying vampire in his space. “You weren't supposed to come until tomorrow.”

“Stop complaining so much. Do you need more water?”

Grumbling, Izaya tries to piece together the night before. He drank too much, he remembers that. Shinra was being annoying. He definitely fell asleep at his desk, meaning Tsukumoya carried him to bed.

“We didn't really fuck, did we?” Izaya asks.

“No. Did you want to?” Tsukumoya's voice is annoyingly smug. “I wouldn't be opposed.”

Izaya snorts and closes his eyes, wills the room to stop spinning. “Don't flatter yourself. You're not my type.”

“I'm not? Here I thought you had a thing for monsters.”

Izaya considers throwing Tsukumoya across the room, but that would be rising to the stupid teasing, and it would require more effort than he currently wants to exert. He stays where he is, listening to the sound of Tsukumoya's fingers on the keys.

“You're being especially pitiful lately, Izaya,” Tsukumoya says after a while. “So you've lost control of your little game, so what? Maybe you should think of what to do next instead of working to the point of exhaustion. You know I hate it when you're predictable.”

“Why does it matter what I do? I'm trapped.”

Tsukumoya sighs. “Yes, you are. And what are you going to do about it?”

“Right now, I'm going to be miserably hungover. Next, who knows? It'll surprise us both.”

“If only I found you sooner.” Tsukumoya goes back to typing. “The things you could've done. Humans are always finding ways to control what they don't understand or fear. But now, you can only help yourself. If you believe you're going to be trapped forever, they've already won.”

“I know that.” Izaya thinks of the work assignments that aren't ever going to stop, and he thinks of Akane, of Shizuo. He knows he went too far, but he has to go even further still.

Tsukumoya seems like he wants to say more, but he pauses, and the typing stops once more.

“You really might want to take that potion now,” he says. “One of your executives is on his way here.”

***

Izaya does not take the potion, and when he answers his door, it's with a slightly green complexion. Akabayashi takes one look at him, and promptly bursts into laughter.

“Oh, wow. And I thought I drank too much. You look awful, brat.” Akabayashi invites himself inside, stepping around Izaya. “I'm doing a wellness check on behalf of the boss. You understand, right?”

“Seems like I have more people in my life than I thought,” Izaya says, closing the door before moving to his couch. “This is my third wellness check.”

“Hard to believe a roach like you has friends, but then again, this city has an infestation. You missed a deadline today.”

“I got a little carried away last night. I've been in bed all day.”

“But you answered the door fully dressed, like you've been up and about,” Akabayashi presses.

“I sensed you coming,” Izaya lies.

Akabayashi hums in thought, and he grins menacingly. “Ya know, I ran into Heiwajima the other day at Sunshine. He seemed really interested in who bit him and why.”

“You should tell him,” Izaya says. “If anything, it would get him off my back for a while.”

“Oh, don't act innocent. We all know who made the phone call that started everything.”

“Clearly what I want doesn't matter. You've made that abundantly clear.”

Akabayashi walks closer to the couch, and he leans closer to Izaya. “Watch yourself, kid. Just because you haven't been caught in the act yet doesn't mean we don't know you're guilty. That magic of yours will only get you so far with us.”

“If your power spans so far, you shouldn't be worried about what I did or didn't do. If you really knew I was guilty, you'd have killed me by now,” Izaya says.

“Assuming monsters like you actually have enough humanity left to die.”

“Why don't we both find out?”

They glare at each other, and Izaya can sense from Akabayashi that the executive would like nothing more than to tear him limb from limb, but he won't. It would be against Shiki's wishes, and as much as Akabayashi hates it, he has to follow orders, or he'll be next on the chopping block. He takes another step towards the couch, but before he can do or say anything, the door slams open with such force that it bangs against the wall and cracks it.

“Hello, Shizu-chan,” Izaya calls without breaking eye-contact with Akabayashi. “Entertain yourself for a moment, will you?”

“What the fuck is this?” Shizuo asks. He growls when he notices Akabayashi. “Oi! I still have questions for you, asshole!”

“I'm sure you do,” Akabayashi says, standing up straight again. He grins at Shizuo. “I can't answer 'em for you, though. Sorry about that.”

“I could always beat it out of you,” Shizuo says, cracking his knuckles. “I'm even stronger than I used to be, since you bastards made me into a monster.”

“You wouldn't get far. I'd relax, if I were you.” Akabayashi turns back to Izaya. “Get to work, brat. Shiki's only so forgiving.” With that, he turns on his heel, and goes towards the door. Shizuo makes to stop him, but Izaya lifts his hand and summons Shizuo backwards, towards the couch.

“What the fuck!” Shizuo shouts, fighting it. “Let me go!”

“Don't make me exert myself, Shizu-chan. I'm having a rough day,” Izaya says. Shizuo turns and glowers at him, but his features soften.

“What's wrong with you? Are you sick?”

“Yes.” The door opens and closes, and Izaya knows he's alone with Shizuo once more. “You didn't knock this time.”

“Didn't think I needed to. It's not like you weren't expecting me.” Shizuo leans down, scrutinizes Izaya. “You're hungover.”

“Don't read my mind,” Izaya huffs, curling into himself.

“I didn't. You reek of alcohol.”

Grumbling, Izaya summons a blanket and throws it over himself. He doesn't know if he prefers Tsukumoya's company to Shizuo's, but at the moment, he thinks he'd rather deal with the vampire. At least for a little bit.

What a messy flea. Shizuo thinks, and then he walks away from the couch. There's the sound of him sifting through the fridge, but there isn't anything for him to find. Namie had the day off, and Shinra cooked what little was available the night before.

“You might have to order out,” Izaya calls. “You have a couple of hours before sunset.”

Shizuo growls loudly, thinks something about Izaya being useless, and then pulls out his phone. Izaya stays where he is and doesn't move, enjoys the silence for a few moments before it's ultimately shattered by Shizuo, who is suddenly sitting on the couch near Izaya, but still far enough to where they're both comfortable.

“I ordered pizza,” Shizuo says, and he leans back against the couch cushions. “You should foot the bill.”

“If you wanted me to pay, you could've ordered something better,” Izaya replies.

“Nah, everywhere else would've taken too long. Pizza is fast and easy.”

Izaya watches sleepily as Shizuo picks up the remote and turns the TV on, flipping through a few channels before settling on a soap opera. It should feel weird, sitting here with Shizuo, watching a woman sob because she caught her husband having an affair, but it really doesn't feel weird at all. Maybe Izaya is too tired to feel one way or another about it, or maybe their strange mental link has done the majority of the work in making them civil towards one another. Either way, Izaya feels comfortable enough to let his guard down a little, and it's an instant relief, like setting down something immensely heavy.

“So, I don't get it. Why are you just sitting here feeling like shit when you can heal yourself easily enough?” Shizuo is still looking at the screen, but he's back to poking around in Izaya's head, whether he knows he's doing it or not.

“Shut up, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says without any real bite.

“Oh. You just want to feel bad. Seems like a stupid thing for someone who's supposed to be some kind of genius, but whatever.”

The woman on screen is confronting her husband's mistress, and it winds up in a fist fight on a balcony. Izaya snorts when the mistress is pushed off to her death. How predictable. Shizuo is scowling at the TV, but he's thinking about his shared dreams with Izaya, and also about some images he's been seeing through Izaya's side of the link. He's also thinking about Shinra, who apparently ran into Shizuo last night after his last appointment. Shinra seemed worried about Izaya.

He's a good actor. Izaya sends. He always has been.

I don't think he was acting. You look worse than you normally do.

I'm hungover, as you so aptly put it. You being in my head isn't helping me feel better.

“I'm not doing it on purpose!” Shizuo snaps, and the sudden loudness has Izaya flinching. “I don't get why it's happening either, okay? I'm only just now starting to believe it's not actually you doing it.”

Because you've seemed like such a mess ever since it started. Shizuo thinks, and Izaya grinds his teeth in frustration.

“I'm not a mess.”

“What did that guy want?” Shizuo asks, changing the subject abruptly.

“Akabayashi-san stops by from time to time to threaten me. It's a pastime for him.” Izaya is starting to feel nauseous again, so he closes his eyes and wills it to go away.

“Don't you work for him, though?”

“I don't work for anybody. I'm a freelance informant for hire, and I give the organization he's part of information when they pay me for it, same as anyone else.”

Shizuo frowns, thinks something biting about Izaya working for the Yakuza. “He seemed like he wanted to hurt you.”

“Oh, he does. They all do,” Izaya says. “They'd kill me if they could.”

Shizuo doesn't like that he has something in common with the Yakuza. He grimaces before he says, “So what? You're just too strong to die or some shit?”

“No,” Izaya replies. “I'm just too important for them do dispose of. I'm part of the reason they're as powerful as they are, and they know it, even if they hate it, even if they hate me. I'm the strongest tool in their arsenal. Killing me would be crippling themselves.”

Silence follows Izaya's words. Shizuo's mind is a whirlwind now, thinking so many things at once, all laced with rage. He doesn't like anything about what Izaya said, the way it was said so flippantly, the way Izaya doesn't seem to mind. Shizuo doesn't like that Izaya thinks of himself as a tool, as something other than human, even if it might be true. Shizuo doesn't want to think of himself as other than human, either.

Shizuo doesn't seem to do well with the truth.

“That isn't true,” Shizuo growls, no doubt in response to Izaya's thoughts. “You're a person. I'm a person. We're other things too, but whatever we are, we're human first. You said so yourself, right? You can die, you can be killed. You're human enough to die.”

“I'm telling you this once, and once only, beast,” Izaya murmurs, opening his eyes to glare at the TV as he speaks. “It would be the exact same as breaking a screwdriver, or losing your favorite toy. If I died, that would be it. They would just replace me. They want to, and they would if they could, but I'm one of the last of my kind, and I'm definitely the most powerful one left. I don't care about it, because I've always known I was only useful for what I knew and what I could do. If you're going to be hated, you damn well better be useful. That's the way it is.”

“Fuck that!” Shizuo yells, and he stands, his hands clenched into fists. “What the hell are you talking about? You think it's okay to sit here and feel sorry for yourself, like you didn't have a hand in being the hated little rat you are? You think it's just because of your magic? You're the one deciding to do the shitty things you do. People hate you. If they knew you were a witch, whatever, maybe some of them would hate you more, but it's only because they hate you already. Get the fuck over yourself.”

Izaya laughs, delighted at the outburst. Doing so hurts his head, and his vision swims. This is pitiful, isn't it? Feeling useless, being forced to lie back and swallow vomit just so no one else can ask anything more of him. If he's a tool, he's a damaged one, and every time he's human, he dulls himself a little more. If this is a game to be played, and his opponents have the winning hand, Izaya will make sure none of them win. He'll destroy himself if he has to. He'll destroy everything.

“Trust me, Shizu-chan,” he croaks, “I know they would've hated me either way. The difference between us is you're searching so hard for a place to belong, and I've accepted long ago that it doesn't exist. Now would you kindly shut the fuck up? My head hurts.”

Shizuo is seething, his breaths labored as he works to calm himself down. He wants to lift Izaya up and shake him until his head pops off. Then Shizuo wants to tear apart everything in the apartment, maybe go punch Akabayashi for good measure. He hates that he sees the reasoning in Izaya's words. He hates himself, and he hates Izaya more than anything else.

“Get out of my head,” Shizuo grits out.

“I'm trying,” Izaya says, and he leaves it at that.

They lapse back into silence, and when Shizuo flops back onto the couch, his brow is furrowed, his jaw set. It's clear he isn't going to let this go, but he at least doesn't want to be in a terrible mood before his transformation. The bloodlust is worse when he's angry. He has to keep reminding himself that Izaya is a liar, first and foremost. Izaya uses words to protect himself, and Shizuo doesn't have to, and won't, ever do the same.

“Well, isn't this cozy?” Tsukumoya's voice asks as he walks down the stairs. He's wearing a hood, covering himself from the weakening rays of sun that still shine through the windows.

“I thought you left,” Izaya calls as Shizuo whirls to growl at the vampire.

“I was going to, but I figured I'd stick around to make sure you didn't die,” Tsukumoya says. He smirks at the scene of Shizuo and Izaya sitting together almost peacefully, watching trash TV in silence. “I wondered how your nights with the puppy went. I suppose I can see for myself now.”

“Why the fuck are you here?!” Shizuo barks, and then he whirls to face Izaya. “Does he always just pop up like this?”

“Not always,” Izaya says. “He stayed the night.”

“What?”

“Relax, Heiwajima-san. Rest assured, I didn't touch him.” Tsukumoya flounces past the couch while Shizuo's face turns a variety of fun colors. “At least, not much.”

Shizuo stands from the couch, and Izaya sighs loudly.

“Don't you have anything better to do?” he asks Tsukumoya, who is still looking at Shizuo appraisingly.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I trust you won't drink yourself stupid a second night in a row?” Tsukumoya says, looking at Izaya.

“I don't have the luxury tonight,” Izaya answers.

“Right, you're puppy-sitting.”

“Do you mean me, you fucking—“ Shizuo starts, and he barrels towards Tsukumoya, who easily side-steps him.

“Make sure you eat something at some point,” Tsukumoya calls to Izaya. “That pizza will help you feel better.”

“I don't want it,” Izaya grumbles, covering his head with the blanket. He hates both of the people in his space right now, and he just wants to sleep.

You must be making a conscious effort to not heal yourself if you're still this sick over a hangover. Tsukumoya's voice sounds in Izaya's head. Is this really helping anything?

Yes. Izaya can't escape either of them, can he? They're both annoyingly perceptive and persistent. He can feel fondness radiating from Tsukumoya, but it's quickly being overshadowed by the amount of fury pouring from Shizuo, who is clearly listening to their mental conversation.

“Your pizza is here,” Tsukumoya says, and the knock comes a moment later. “Make sure he eats something, please,” he says to Shizuo, and then he vanishes before anything else can be said.

***

Shizuo scarfs down the entire pizza at breakneck speed, once or twice trying to get Izaya to accept a slice before giving up. He doesn't care if Izaya eats or not, and he doesn't care if Izaya feels sick or not. Shizuo's mood increases as he eats, and by the time he's finished, he's as mellow as he ever is while sharing a space with his mortal enemy.

Izaya, for his part, is starting to feel a little better. His stomach rumbles a bit at the scent of the pizza, but his appetite wanes at the grotesquely barbaric way Shizuo eats. It seems worse than usual, more...animalistic.

In fact...something seems off about Shizuo, even for a full moon. Maybe something happened earlier, or maybe Shizuo just went too long without eating until now, but Izaya can sense the bloodlust permeating from Shizuo like a miasma.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, slowly sitting up to level his gaze at his unwanted guest. “Have you taken your potion?”

“Huh? Of course I have,” Shizuo replies. His hair is glowing from the fading rays of the sun as it descends behind the tall buildings outside.

“Have you taken it exactly as you should, the way I instructed?” Izaya asks through clenched teeth, already knowing the answer.

“Well— I drank it all a couple of days ago. I spent all day with Vorona, and I didn't want—“ Shizuo pauses at the look on Izaya's face. “What? What did I do wrong? You said to take it all before the full moon, and I did!”

“I told you to drink it every day, bit by bit, and to finish it before the full moon. The exact way you've done every month until now, because you're so pathetic in the presence of that woman that you can't follow basic fucking instructions!” Izaya snaps, and Shizuo's eyes widen.

He looks scared. Shizuo thinks, and then a beat later, Oh fuck. He's scared of me.

“Izaya, I—“ Shizuo begins, and then his hands grip his knees as his body begins to shake. The sun's rays fade at last, bathing them in twilight. “I feel...wrong.”

Izaya stands from the couch, the room spinning as he does. He's not at his full power. Even if he weren't hungover, he hasn't been eating or sleeping the way he should, buried in work as he is, and reluctant to care for himself as ever. He starts towards the stairs, in search of the healing potion he should have taken earlier, but he knows it's already far too late, as Shizuo's body is already beginning to crack and twist, and his mind is already gone, replaced by that of a true monster.

“Shizu-chan, you're such a fucking idiot,” Izaya hisses, and his sentence is barely finished before Shizuo is lunging at him, aiming for his throat.

#with teeth fic #shizaya #Izaya Orihara #Shizuo Heiwajima #witchy izaya #werewolf shizuo #shit goes down and also apparently people like Tsukumoya pestering Izaya so I added more of that

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mintchocolatechipnut · 4 years

Text

bakugou cooking for his crush

Okay I just had the cutest idea: Bakugou falling for a classmate that's a really good eater. One day she stumbles across his food in the common fridge without knowing he cooked it. She steals a bite and is smitten with his food. And Bakugou, having seen the whole thing, becomes smitten with her.

Note: How this idea came about I have no clue... I just remember writing the entire thing on my phone at my grandparents’ house and really having fun writing it. To be honest, I don’t have the best grasp on Bakugou’s character, but I tried... For all my fellow food lovers out there!

Tags: more tooth-rotting fluff (the domestic kind), attempts at showing character development through cooking, Bakugou’s tough love (but of course, you’re here for that)

Word count: 3.5k

So I'm imagining that Bakugou likes to keep his cooking skills on the down low, because who knows if idiots like Kirishima and Kaminari show up and start whining at him to cook them food, and he doesn't want to be teased as being 'domestic'

He doesn't think there's anything wrong with cooking since he's able to take care of himself and his health, but if his squad saw him in the kitchen in his apron he wouldn't ever be able to live it down

That said, he brings his freshly cooked meals into his room and opens his windows so the smell doesn't linger, and he stores his leftovers in the deep recesses of the fridge where no one would ever think to look, not even food thieves

Luckily or unluckily for him, you were no ordinary food thief.

Bakugou is on his way downstairs because he's feeling peckish and wants to heat up some of the leftovers of his favourite dish, so imagine his shock and anger when he sees you and Sero poring over the blue Tupperware housing his food

Before he can take a single seething step, though, you've already spooned a bite into your mouth

His eyes widen, and now he's really mad that an extra like you had the audacity to eat his food

But then you let out a near inhuman noise, and it sounds… intensely satisfied?

'Oh my god, who cooked this?' Unable to contain your excitement you're shaking Sero by the shoulders, lips drawing up in a contented smile. 'This is the best thing I've ever tasted!'

For some reason, Bakugou's not so mad anymore. Obviously because for an extra like you, at least you had taste

But something about the pure joy in your expression made Bakugou feel… guilty that he was going to stop you

It's absurd because if anyone should be feeling guilty, it's you

As he's thinking this, the snap of the closed Tupperware brings him back to his senses, and all of a sudden he's fleeing the scene so he's not discovered

He's even more bewildered because there's no reason for him to be running away, and he hates running away

But somehow he felt a bit awkward and… embarrassed after hearing what you had to say about his food

With that he decided that he'd let it go once, and maybe seal his container a bit tighter

But he's sorely mistaken the next morning at the breakfast counter when you begin gushing about his food once more

Remember when he thought that you should've felt guilty for eating his food? There's not an ounce of shame in your words, though.

You tell the story of your tastebuds' meeting with heaven when you and Sero found a container full of something inside the fridge, and out of curiosity, you decided to take a peek

'I didn't mean to eat it, I swear I didn't! But it just looked so good, and I could imagine how it tasted… but boy did it taste so much better than that!'

Bakugou's left reeling at this praise, and there's an uncomfortable feeling upsetting his stomach as he tries to wolf down his cereal, trying not to think about how your words made his ears burn

Then the punchline: 'If we have a guy in our class who cooks like this, I'd marry him in a heartbeat!'

Bakugou nearly spits his milk

Luckily no one notices, and are instead calling you out for your food thievery or watching your animated hand gestures

On his walk to class, Bakugou has no idea how he feels about this; he just wants to banish it to the corners of his mind so he wouldn't have to waste time thinking about something that shouldn't have mattered so much before

Right before he steps into class he's met with a flashback of your smile when you ate his cooking, and suddenly a plan pops into his brain

…

You show up in the kitchen the next few days, wanting to see if the 'blue Tupperware man' struck again with his fantastic dishes

More often than not, you're met with disappointment, but your eyes light up when you see the familiar blue sticking out in your vision when you open the fridge one day

You're shocked to find a note attached: 'To Y/N: I know you've been eating my food. You can only have a bite of this, but not one more. Don't think I can't tell if you do, I WILL know.'

You're all around mortified, though you realise you really shouldn't be: practically everyone heard your declarations of food thievery that day

But the last line drove home the fact that the person who cooked this was here, and was indeed a student

The first thing you do is scan the area behind you for any immediate signs of life, in case the chef had been watching you

But when nothing turns up, you shrug, and rub your hands together in excitement

You swear you could hear stifled laughter, but the lure of the food in front of you was too much to overcome in favour of an investigation

As you eat and, once again, fail to be disappointed, Bakugou's eyes are trailing your face

There it is: the same expression, if not even better than he remembered, that you put on when you ate good food

And suddenly, Bakugou wants to see that expression more

The next few times a similar note addressed to you accompanies every meal, but when you tried to reply you wouldn't get an answer back

Then one day, the notes just stopped. You felt sad for a while, but then perked up when you saw the contents of the Tupperware, containing some of your favourite ingredients

From then on it was a given that you could eat from the blue Tupperware, and not more than three bites

You still cringe at the stinginess, leading to Bakugou muffling his chuckles every time

He doesn't come and watch you eat every time, because it's creepy, for one thing

But sometimes he'd be in his room, just knowing that you'd be tiptoeing down the stairs in anticipation of what's in the fridge, and a small grin would tug at the corners of his mouth

He'd also made it clear that no one else would attempt to try his food. Once Kaminari tried to sneak a bite, but when he opened the container the stench of rotting beans knocked him out

Bakugou cackled as he dragged Kaminari back to his room, but not before switching out the containers with the one meant for you

He's also quick to throw anyone who's out to discover him off the scent (ha)

Besides doing so in the literal sense, as with Kaminari, Bakugou makes sure to stay out of everyone's radar in the kitchen, and even goes as far to put your portion in a separate pink Tupperware, with your name on it

Yeah, no way would such a sappy move be from blasty boy Bakugou, right?

You'd been playing this game for a few weeks now when you just can't take it anymore

Bakugou awakes one morning to discover a text message from you in the group chat:

'To the person who always leaves me food (aka blue Tupperware!!), please PLEASE show yourself! I really want to get to know the person who makes such wonderful food!'

He felt his heart swell, and he's painfully reminded of your first words of how you'd marry him for his cooking

He's grateful he's blushing alone in his room

At this declaration in the group chat, however, more and more 'investigations' are popping up

Deku is a particularly difficult person to distract and Bakugou hates it

But so far he's been keeping it together, all he has to do is stick it out a bit longer

That's when Mineta of all people tries to impersonate him

Bakugou's infuriated when he's checking on you one night and you fish a note out of your container

'What's this?' you muse aloud, and begin reading it out aloud, much to Bakugou's benefit, 'Meet me behind the dorms tomorrow after school. I'll show you who I am.'

Bakugou knows it's definitely not him who wrote it, but he can't stop the rage arising in his chest when he sees your eyes light up in excitement

Who is this impostor and when and where would they like their ass being whooped?

Bakugou decides once again to investigate in his usual ninja fashion that he's perfected from watching you

He follows you to the back of the school discreetly, where you bounce on the balls of your feet in impatience

Suddenly a familiar purple head emerges from the bushes, and Bakugou has to physically restrain his palms from crackling

'Mineta?' He's happy that your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of him, but he's suddenly left reeling when he has an introspective moment about why he's been playing this game all along

He felt too afraid to face you. Too afraid to show his domestic side, and too afraid to come clean and say he cares. He knows he doesn't have the best personality in class, but he really wants your impression of him as ‘blue Tupperware’ to stay untainted and pristine

What would you think, then, if you discovered that your mystery chef was the abrasive, antagonistic Katsuki Bakugou, who didn't seem to have an ounce of empathy for anyone? Even worse, would you believe him even if he told you?

More than what it would do to his reputation, he realised that he didn't want you to see him in a bad light at all.

However, he's also mentally kicking himself because now bastards like Mineta can come and impersonate him

However, the words that leave your mouth makes him still

'You're the Blue Tupperware guy? Prove it.' There's a challenging smile atop your lips as you stare down Mineta, who falters from his previously smug swagger

'What do you mean? I cook you food, you love it. That's all there is to it, right?' A derisive laugh leaves you.

'Then tell me the names of the dishes you've made for me.' Mineta stands stock still, trying to comprehend what you've just asked of him. The beads of sweat now trailing down his neck don't escape your notice.

After some painful stammering and guesswork, then a beat of silence, you sigh. 'I kind of thought this would happen.'

'However, if it really honestly had been you, I wouldn't be mad. Because if I knew you were the one cooking with so much care and love, I'd still thank you for the meals.'

Bakugou's head goes blank. His hands begin sweating uncontrollably, and he's brought back to his senses when he hears his palms pop.

As he controls his quirk he's desperately trying to make sense of what you just said, but only one word rings out clear and true in his brain.

'Love'.

And suddenly he's trying not to grin at your epic shutdown of Mineta, trying not to feel his heart flutter when he pictures your multitude of expressions in all their glory, and trying not to remember the feeling of when he'd lie in his bed at night, the last thought he has before he drifts off to sleep being 'what should I cook next?'

He's in love with—

The sounds of footsteps coming in his direction shake him out of his reverie and he all but dives behind a pillar as you march off, leaving Mineta in the dust

Before the purple-haired pervert can leave, however, he's suddenly held up by the collar of his shirt, eyes wide before a murderous red gaze

'Try one more thing with her and I'll make sure you don't wake up the next day.'

…

From then on, Bakugou's mood lifts considerably.

Not only is he confident Mineta wouldn't rat him out (all he has to do is shoot him a glare), but he's eternally proud of how you stood up for him

Speaking of which, can he take your words you spoke to Mineta that day to mean that you wouldn't at all feel uneasy with whoever Blue Tupperware was, as long as you knew it was really him?

Now he's stuck with thinking of ways to shoot his shot

Little does he know that chance might come sooner than he thought…

One day he's running late because his work studies ran overtime

He'd planned to make something a little more complicated and out of his repertoire, though it may take him longer than usual

Though when he'd discovered what you liked to eat through your conversations with friends and what you ate in the cafeteria, he didn't mind, couldn't mind the extra hassle at all

It's not a difficult recipe, but he knows that it'll be dinnertime soon and that'd be dangerous

He looks at the clock, noting the twenty minutes he has before the first students come trickling into the common room. You won't be here until thirty minutes after. So he locks himself in the kitchen and gets to work

(yes I now know it doesn’t make sense for him to not be discovered in the kitchen during dinnertime, so let’s just say no one usually wanders in because all the meals are usually laid out in the common room when dinner rolls around)

He's smiling as he spoons the freshly cooked food into the Tupperwares, letting it cool for a bit as he washes up

But when he turns around holding them in his hands to put into the fridge, he freezes

There you stand in the doorway, eyes wide

'... Bakugou?' Damn, he would've relished the sound of his name on your tongue if you hadn't been looking at him like… like that. 'Are you Blue Tupperware?'

As much as he wants to laugh at the stupid nickname, he knows how straightforward and sharpshooting you can be with your words and intentions. And so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is:

'So what if I am?'

A beat of silence, then two. And suddenly your face morphs from bewilderment to pure joy, maybe even purer than when you eat his food. God bless his eyes that could bear witness to that moment.

'It's you!' you exclaim and a laugh as hearty as your appetite leaves your lips, and he's just awed, amazed. 'Thank you for the food!'

…

The immediate aftermath was everyone gaping at the both of you as if you each grew two heads as you ate from your respective containers

Sitting across him, you ask, 'Well… why did you do it?'

He’d imagined that you’d ask something like that, and he’s prepared an answer for it, but the eagerness in your smile, along with every other eye on him, prompted him to instead blurt:

'To… to stroke my ego and shit.'

Everyone goes painfully silent except for you, who leans back and laughs, 'As expected of you, Bakugou! But either way I get to eat really well, so thank you!'

You've been saying thank you for a while now, but what he can't get out of his head is that you expected him to be all narcissistic about cooking you food for his own selfish reasons? Man does that hurt.

But somehow, the others buy it too (which just really goes to show how much of a jerk the class paints him out to be), and the case of Blue Tupperware is solved

Now all that's changed is you pop in occasionally when Bakugou's cooking, and there are nights where you eat together

Oh, and the fact that he now knows you can’t cook for shit

You’ve tried to help Bakugou cook before, but at the time he'd felt as if he was in for a very rude awakening

However you are a god at cooking instant noodles of any shape or kind, so much so that when he misses you (or craves you lol) he eats instant noodles

Then again they'd never taste quite the same as when you cook them asifkajdks

When he actually confesses it's when you, out of the goodness of your heart, ask if you can help him out once more

He always finds himself giving in btw

But then you burn another pot and it's tough not to get frustrated

He's under stress, the weight of his sweat on his brow coupled with his ever growing feelings for you leads him to have even less of a filter on his mouth

'You obviously suck at this.' he says, noting your sad puppy eyes and willing himself not to surrender. 'Just let me do it.'

'But I feel bad that you're always cooking for me, and all I do is enjoy it.' You're biting your lip now, and it's all Bakugou can do before he starts thinking about what it'd be like to push you against the sink and kiss you senseless.

'Nonsense. It's enough that you enjoy my cooking, so let me do it. Let me take care of you.'

That last part did slip out, as denoted by the look on your face

'Wow,' again your straightforwardness comes into play, 'that sounded like a confession right there if I've ever heard one!'

Before he can stop himself—'do you wish it was?'

'Huh?'

'A confession—do you wish it was one?'

He watches your cheeks go tomato red and you purse your lips

'Do you wish that I wish it was?'

Aw, now you just playin

'I'm not hearing a no.'

'Neither am I.'

And then you nerds proceed to stare each other down in a palpable silence, the only sounds being the bubble of the soup in the pot before you

Who confesses first?

'Dumbass. I like you.'

You instantly beam, and you jump into his arms, even though you're dangerously close to the fire. Bakugou blanches, then draws you away from the stove

'Oi, watch it! You could get hurt, idiot,' but you're too focused on the way his arms had naturally wrapped around you to keep you safe and shielded

'You'll protect me, won't you?' you say, smushing your cheek against his chest. Bakugou sighs and places a hand on your head soothingly

'You bet I will.'

Bonus scene! “And that's how your father and I got together,” you say with a smile, as your four year old son bounces excitedly in your lap, while your six year old rolls her eyes at the amount of times you've told this story. “Yeah, we get it Mom.”

Your son has a different take on it though. “Start again! Again, again!” You let out a sigh mixed in with a chuckle at his insistence, but just then the wafting aroma of shrimp hits your nose. You close your eyes as you feel footsteps coming closer, and the warmth of your husband leaning in close to you as he sets the table leaves you giddy.

“Okay, that's enough storytelling for today,” Katsuki grumbles, placing the shrimp pesto on the table. Your daughter instantly perks up at the sight; she might not be as good an eater as you are, but she has a particular fondness for pasta. “Yay! It's pasta time!”

You set down your son in his chair as his eyes gleam at the feast in front of him, then walk up to your husband. 'Thank you so much, babe,' you relish the sight of Katsuki's ears, previously stained red from listening to your 'story', turning even redder.

“If you really want to thank me, there's something you need to do,” Katsuki mutters in a low voice, his gaze surreptitiously looking down at himself. You follow his eyes, and immediately burst out laughing.

“You're wearing it for us!” You'd really like to capture a photo of him in the 'Kiss the Chef' apron you'd gotten him for his birthday last year as a gag gift. Could Katsuki turn any redder?

“Shut up! Who burned my other apron the other day, hmm?”

This time you blush. “Maybe it was an expert ploy to get you to wear this,” you laugh, and before a snappy retort can leave his lips, you're smothering them with your own mouth. “Love you.”

You embrace him, arms lazily reaching for the apron strings in order to tug them undone, but your husband is pulling you in too, hands on your waist as he tucks your head in the corner of his neck so you can't see him or hear his next words too well. But you hear them nonetheless.

“I love you too.'”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugo headcanons

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creampuffqueen · 3 years

Text

Getaway Car - Cresswell, TLC Shipweeks 2021 (Criminal AU)

a/n: Hello!!!! TLC fandom! It's been quite a while since I did anything for y'all! But here I am, back from the dead, with an unholy amount of one single fic for the ship weeks. I was going to post this yesterday, since that was Cresswell's AU day (I think, I wasn't originally planning to post anything so I wasn't keeping track, but I listened to Taylor Swift's song Getaway Car and got a Vision) but sadly my ideas were too large to complete in one day! So take this now!

Word Count: 13142 (yes, I know)

Summary: In an alternate universe, Cress and Thorne are partners in crime, literally. They may also be in love with each other, literally.

Warnings: Contains mentions of guns, violence, underage drinking, cursing, and a lot of crime

~~~~

“Cress, you got me?” Thorne’s voice crackled over the speaker of the burner phone, right into the waiting ears of the person he needed most.

His getaway car, Cress Darnel.

“Loud and clear!” She replied, twisting the key in the ignition of the old car. The engine roared to life under her touch, and the young woman sped out of the alleyway. “Keep going, I’ll be there. You know what to do.”

“We’ve done this almost a dozen times; I know what to do!”

The blonde cracked a grin to herself, “Sure you do. You’d be lost without me.”

“You got that right! See you in two! Mwah!” With that last endearment, the line went dead, and Cress chucked the cell phone out the window with an exasperated smile. She was parked close enough that the rendezvous spot only took her one minute, sixteen seconds to reach.

Timing was of the utmost importance to this mission. Even a few seconds too late and everything would end.

This was proven approximately thirty-eight seconds later, when Carswell Thorne, renowned criminal, tore around the corner, half-zipped duffel bag slung over a shoulder. He had a gun, but both he and Cress knew it wasn’t loaded, it was just for show.

The doors were unlocked, the car had a full tank of gas, and Cress was a very good driver. “Floor it!” Thorne shouted, and Cress didn’t have to be told twice.

When the police arrived, approximately twenty-two seconds later, they, and all evidence, were long gone.

~~~~

After an hour of driving, it was getting dark. Thorne discreetly hotwired a new car in a full supermarket parking lot, and the duo was on their way.

Another hour of driving, and Thorne took over the controls from the younger woman, letting her nap in the passenger seat. She curled up in a little ball, so small she didn’t even stick out of the seat. When she was fast asleep with her cheek squished against the window, Thorne finally risked a glance over to his partner.

It was strange to think they’d only known each other for a few months. Well, six months, two weeks, and five days, to be exact.

He’d tried to stop himself from keeping count. It hadn’t worked. Six months, two weeks, and five days of Cress Darnel being in his life.

It was about nine o’clock, so the traffic was beginning to thin a bit. They were in one of the busiest parts of the city, easy to blend in with their average-looking car. Someone honked behind him, and Thorne gave a glance in his rearview mirror. Whoops.

The day had been long and exhausting. Time to start working on a place to hunker down for the night. Cress shifted a bit in her sleep, and a loud grumble cut through the car. Okay, time to find some food, too.

He drove around the city a bit more, making sure nobody was on their tail, before finally exiting to the more sparsely-populated areas. Where you paid for your room in cash and nobody asked questions.

It was eleven o’clock by the time he finally found someplace suitable enough. He drove through a fast food joint nearby, then finally parked the car. Nudging Cress awake as he exited, he wordlessly passed her the food before heading inside.

Most of the rooms were sold for the night, but they thankfully had one available with two twin beds.

He found Cress devouring her burger like she hadn’t eaten in years. And-

“Hey, fry-stealer!” He chuckled, snatching his bag, “Eat your own!”

She gave him a look with those big blue eyes and something inside him melted. “I already ate mine.”

Thorne rolled his eyes, but passed her a couple more fries anyway. “This means you have to carry your own bag, you know.”

That statement earned him another pout, but he ignored it, instead grabbing his suitcase and the duffel bag containing today’s goods.

He left Cress to her own devices, heading inside the room and grabbing the shower first. His food would be cold, sure, but at least he’d get all the hot water he wanted.

When he came out again, toweling off his hair and rubbing his freshly-shaven face, Cress was inside, passed out on top of her hotel-made bed.

Thorne sighed, but couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed. It was exhausting, having so much brainpower all the time.

He tugged off her shoes, placing them neatly by the bed, in case they needed a quick escape. Then, gently, almost reverently, he tucked her under the covers.

He couldn’t resist. Making sure she was fully asleep, he pressed a soft, tiny kiss on top of her perfect golden hair.

“‘Night, Cress.”

He was fast asleep himself before he heard her reply.

“Goodnight.”

~~~~

The pair made an early departure, before other residents rose from their slumber and possibly compromised their location. Since Thorne had driven for so long yesterday, Cress felt it was only fair that she drove. It was a bit strange, she admitted, usually she was the night owl and he the early bird. But yesterday had been hard. It took a lot of planning to pull it off that smoothly.

By the time the sun rose, the pair was at least an hour away from the motel. Cress got them both coffee at a little roadside place, then pulled off to the side so they could enjoy it.

“You always get my order right,” Thorne chuckled, leaning against her as they sat in the open trunk of the car. “I’ve got a very sensitive palette, you know.”

Cress snorted, “You sure do. That’s just pure sugar in a cup right there.” She took a big gulp of her own brew, which was almost pure espresso.

“I don’t know how you can drink literal dirt water!” Thorne protested, “It’s so nasty!”

Cress bumped his shoulder again, still smiling. He grinned right back at her, before turning his eyes back to the early-morning sun.

“You ever think you’d get to see stuff like this? Do stuff like this?”

Cress could think of a thousand different witty remarks to toss back at him, mostly along the lines of “Being a wanted criminal? Absolutely.”, but for whatever reason, she held her tongue, instead replying, “No. Back then I didn’t even know when I’d see the sun next.”

Thorne turned his blue eyes over to her, squeezing her hand in a silent comfort. This close, she noticed that he’d shaved last night. And was letting his roots grow out again. Her heart sped up, just a bit.

In the six months she’d known him, he’d changed his appearance so often she was losing count. He always did after a heist, no matter how big or small. He dyed his hair, let his beard grow out, or sometimes simply donned a pair of glasses. Cress hadn’t changed hers since the very first.

~~~~

“Hey, blondie, where are you headed?” Cress whipped her head around to the voice that sounded. Rumbling up beside her was a car, front window rolled down, to reveal a young man, only a year or so older than her.

“None of your business,” She responded warily, curling in on herself a bit.

“Are you lost?” The guy continued, “I could give you a ride.”

“Like I’d get in a car with a strange man. That’s, like, begging to be killed.”

The guy looked actually offended at that. “What? I don’t kill people!”

Cress just rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the offer, but no.”

She turned away, hitching her backpack higher. She’d chickened out again. Sybil would be home any minute and she needed to get home. Her pace quickened, and the car and the guy rolled off.

Little did she know, that certainly wasn’t the last she’d see of him.

~~~~

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.” Cress pulled the duffel bag of stolen material towards her, beginning to rifle through it while Thorne watched. The late afternoon sun filtered through the window, turning her golden hair into an illusion of fire.

They’d ditched the car yet again, this time nabbing one from a used car parking lot. Now they were in a small town that the highway ran through, alone in a back alley, the only company being an alley cat in the trash and a couple further down that were too caught up in each other to notice anything.

Inside the bag, Cress pulled out treasure after treasure. A lot of cash; Thorne had the employees empty all the registers, and a lot of what Cress needed: Computer parts.

She had an old, run-down laptop, one of the few things taken with her from her previous life in the quiet suburbs. She would have had Thorne steal another laptop, but those were too traceable these days, even if they were brand new.

So manual upgrades it was.

Computers were her specialty, always had been. And now that she was a part of this merry band of two, her computer and her skills were integral parts to everything they did.

As it turned out, the most recent robbery had yielded exactly what she needed, and more. She gave a squeal of delight after unearthing a certain part, hugging it close to her chest.

A little chuckle sounded behind her, and Cress whipped her head around. Thorne was grinning ear-to-ear, the kind of smile that made her face heat up. “Happy, Goldilocks?”

Her face burned, and she twisted her fingers in her shoulder-length locks of hair. But she met his eyes and nodded. “Really happy. This is exactly what I needed.”

Thorne’s smile softened. “Anything for you, Princess.”

And somehow, deep inside her, she knew he was speaking the truth.

~~~~

Cress sprinted along the side of the road, the grass scratching at her bare legs. Her whole head throbbed, and her left wrist was sprained for sure. Every step pulled at the bruising on her stomach, and it was a struggle to keep moving, keep the backpack on her shoulders, keep moving.

“I’m eighteen now, she can’t hurt me anymore. I’m eighteen now, she can’t hurt me anymore,” She murmured over and over to herself, a mantra to keep her sore legs moving. She needed to leave, needed to keep moving.

She risked a glance behind her. Her heart froze.

Car lights were coming up the road. Fast.

Cress started running faster, biting her lip to keep from sobbing, keep from just keeling over and dying right there. She could beat her. She could escape. She just had to keep moving.

It was the middle of the night, there was no way anyone else but Sybil was driving that car. There was nowhere to hide. All she could do was keep going, and hope that maybe she sped right past. It was foolish, but it was all she had.

Her foot slipped into a small dip in the earth, and her whole ankle screamed, sending her toppling into the dirt. Coughing and sputtering, she pushed herself up, stumbling forward. The tears came, fast and hard and unstoppable. The lights were nearly on top of her now.

And that’s when she saw it. Another car, coming towards her. Her last chance.

Cress nearly toppled over herself in her haste, tumbling into the middle of the road, in the path of the incoming car. As expected, it screeched to a stop, the driver slamming on the horn.

“Help!” Cress screamed, as Sybil’s car pulled up behind her, her face illuminated by the other headlights and frozen in fury. “Please help me! She’s going to hurt me!”

“Crescent Moon!” Sybil bellowed, and Cress backed up against the other car. The driver’s door opened. And out stepped the most handsome man Cress had ever seen in her life.

Okay, she was definitely dreaming. She gave herself a tiny pinch.

Maybe not.

The man… he seemed familiar, somehow. She couldn’t quite place it.

“Cress,” Sybil snarled, stomping over, “Get in the car, now.” Her tone left no room for argument. Cress curled in on herself.

“Hey,” The man replied, “Who the hell are you?”

“Her mother.”

“Foster mother,” Cress interjected softly. “And I’m eighteen. You don’t own me anymore.”

If Sybil’s face could get more furious, it did. The man glanced between them, brows creasing as he took in Cress’s limp, her black eye, the way she held her stomach.

“You heard the girl. She doesn’t belong to you, witch.”

Sybil lunged, grabbing Cress’s sprained wrist. She screamed in pain, and the man moved.

And suddenly he was pointing a gun at her foster mother. Everyone froze.

“Let her go.” He said, “Leave her alone.”

Sybil backed away. “I’ll call the police, boy. You can’t threaten me.”

The gun clicked. He armed it. He pointed it straight at Sybil.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s eighteen. And if she comes willingly, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

And Cress really couldn’t say why, exactly, but in that moment she knew that he was truthful. That his words made sense, and more than that, she would go with him.

“I’m going with him, Sybil.” For the first time in her life, Cress Darnel was being brave. And it wasn’t a dream.

The man turned to her, flashing a grin, and Cress recognized him then. The same one who approached her nearly a month earlier.

“Cress, right?” He asked, when Sybil had retreated to her car and driven away, “Nice name. I’m Carswell, but everyone calls me Thorne. Oh, and sorry to scare you like that. This thing isn’t loaded, never has been.”

Cress glanced down the road, at the car growing steadily smaller in the distance. “Thanks for all that, Thorne. You showed up just in time.”

He offered her a hand to shake. “My pleasure, blondie.”

Despite everything, Cress found herself cracking a smile.

~~~~

“So, where to next, milady?” Thorne beamed, spreading a roadmap before them both. They’d finally stopped for the night, and were sitting on some questionable carpet in an even more questionable motel, figuring out their next plan.

“Dunno,” Cress shrugged, “Wherever’s good, I guess.”

“I mean, where you do want to see?” Thorne elaborated. “What’s your dream destination, Cress?”

She gave him a confused look. “Why?”

“You can say Disneyworld. I won’t judge.”

That earned him a snicker and a shove against the shoulder, and he could almost feel his heart swell with affection. She really was adorable, sitting in a tank top and pajama shorts, thick socks rolled around her ankles. He’d do anything to earn that smile again.

“I’m not sure, really. I’ve never had the chance to really think about it.”

“Well surely you must at least know some places. A place you’ve heard, maybe?”

Cress sighed, leaning further against him. “I don’t know, Thorne. What about you? Where do you want to go?”

“Ladies first, Goldilocks.”

“It’s Disneyworld, isn’t it.”

“You could hack their system and get us free tickets! And fast passes for all the rides! It would be great!” He replied enthusiastically.

“I mean in theory, sure, but Disney’s kinda notorious for being fairly unhackable.”

“Damn it.”

Cress yawned, laying nearly in his lap. “Let’s think about it tomorrow, ‘kay?”

Thorne lifted her, bridal style, to her bed, amidst her soft giggles. She sounded like a fairy. “Goodnight, milady. I shall seek thee out in the morning.”

Cress laughed harder, which turned abruptly into a yawn as she tucked herself beneath the covers. “Goodnight, my knight in shining armor.”

~~~~

Over the next few weeks, they travelled to wherever they felt like. The car they had was stolen from a junkyard, so it wasn’t like anyone was looking for it. Sure, it was a piece of crap, but it moved and it did its job.

They moved intermittently between small and big towns, usually only spending a day or two before hitting the road again. Cash was hard to come by, so they mostly resorted to stealing purses and pickpocketing. Cress felt a little bad about it, but hey, they needed to eat.

Things between her and Thorne were… changing. She couldn’t exactly tell how or why, but she knew they were. The change wasn’t bad, but it was different. And strange. And a tiny bit scary.

She’d find her gaze naturally finding his at any given moment, catch herself staring when she shouldn’t. She laughed at his dumb jokes more, focused on the sound of his voice when she should be focusing on the road.

He hadn’t changed his appearance in a long time. His hair was its natural shade of golden brown again, and he kept his face clean-shaven. The dumb glasses had been broken and dumped some time ago.

And it wasn’t just her that was staring, either. She felt his eyes, sometimes saw them too, when he thought she wasn’t looking. He was doing more and more to make her laugh. And he wasn’t being as careful to make sure she was asleep before he kissed her head goodnight.

Cress didn’t really know what to make of these changes. She couldn’t tell if these were good or bad. She wasn’t used to this, these butterflies in her stomach, this heat in her face. Sybil kept her isolated her whole life, and she was just now starting to really experience the world. Was it right to fall for the first guy her age she met?

Because she realized that’s what it was. They were in a moderately sized town, and were walking around the downtown area, looking for a place to eat and also some easy targets to fund said meal.

Sadly, this wasn’t an easy crowd. They had eyes in the backs of their heads, and after nearly an hour, they only had a meager ten dollars to show for it between them.

“Hey, chin up,” Thorne grinned, “We’ll be fine. I think I saw a fast food place up there, follow me.”

He grabbed her hand, and Cress couldn’t stop the dopey grin that found a permanent residence on her face. He’s holding my hand.

Unfortunately, it was a high end fast food place. The kind that had “gourmet” food at a third of the price of a fancy restaurant. Even the cheapest item on the menu really meant one meal to split between them both.

“You should eat, Cress.”

“No,” She protested, “Let’s find somewhere else. We both need to eat.”

He shrugged. “It’s late. Just promise to give me a bite, okay?”

She would have argued more, but she was really hungry. So, begrudgingly, she made her way to the register and bought dinner.

That was when she really realized what they were. He smiled at her the whole time while she ate her fill, head resting on his hands. He took the bite she offered, and refused any more. She knew he was hungry. And yet, he let her eat.

Anything for you, princess.

~~~~

Surprisingly, the guy hadn’t killed her yet. Weird. It had been three days. And he was still being nice to her.

They’d stayed in a motel nearby. Two separate beds. He’d been a perfect gentleman the entire time. He helped her ice her sprains and bruises every day. He made sure she was comfortable.

“Are you sure you really wanna be hanging out with me, Goldilocks?” He asked on the dawn of the fourth day, “There’s nowhere else you’d rather be?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” She responded suspiciously. It’s not like she had anywhere to go, anyway.

“No, no, of course not!” Thorne insisted. “It’s just, weird, I guess. People don’t hang out with me willingly too much.”

“Why?”

He dramatically brushed his hair out of his eyes, “I’m just too good for them I guess.” Then he met her gaze with a serious look. “No, it’s because I’m a criminal.”

“Yeah, I kinda guessed.” Also she’d looked him up as soon as she had some time alone. It wasn’t hard to unseal his juvenile record, where she found he’d been arrested several times for theft. And once for grand larceny at seventeen, which was honestly kind of impressive. That also explained where all the money was coming from.

“Oh.”

Cress awkwardly looked away. “I mean, it’s whatever. I don’t care that much how you make money.”

“I promise I don’t steal from old ladies or hobos or anything like that.” Cress blinked at that. How had he known that was worrying her?

He seemed to also understand that, too. “You’re literally an open book, princess. You’re not good at hiding your emotions.”

That was their last interaction for the day. He left around lunchtime with an empty duffel bag, and Cress decided to look the other way, for now. She made herself comfortable the rest of the time, before finally falling asleep around nine o’clock.

She’d barely been asleep thirty minutes, according to the clock on the bedside table, when Thorne burst inside the room with a gasp.

“What’s going on?” Cress grumbled as he flicked on all the lights.

“Get up, we have to go. The police are right on my tail, I won’t lose them for long.”

Well, that was one hell of a wake up call.

Thorne was tossing his stuff haphazardly into his own backpack, shouting at Cress to do the same. The duffel bag on his shoulder was full, and Cress caught a small glimpse of green on the inside. Money.

Being inside the motel for four days, her things were strewn about. She was taking too long. With only her laptop and about half her clothes packed, Thorne decided it was time, and dragged her out of the motel room.

Cress was barely inside the car before he floored it, screeching out of the parking lot. His blue eyes were wide, but nearly as terrified as she expected.

Of course, she realized later, he’s an adrenaline junkie. He lives for these kinds of moments.

But at that moment, all her focus was on the road as Thorne sped through the streets, heading as fast as the car could go for the highway. In minutes, a police car was on their tail. Thorne pressed the pedal harder.

“How did this even happen?” Cress gasped, trying in vain to take her mind off the sirens behind them.

“Someone called 911 before I was done. I didn’t notice the phone until too late. Stupid mistake on my part.”

“You know,” She suggested, the seatbelt holding her tight against the seat as they screamed around a turn, “You could have just bought a signal blocker beforehand, that way nobody could call at all.”

“A what?”

“A signal blocker. They’re super cheap at like, any electronics store. Hell, I could have done it for you. It’s not that hard; it was one of the first hacker-y things I learned.”

Thorne turned to her with a grin. “You can do that?!”

“Yes. Eyes on the road!”

Many terrifying minutes later, they’d shaken off the police tail and made it to the freeway. Thorne’s smile was huge, and his attitude was becoming infectious.

“That was awesome! We totally knocked them off our trail!”

Cress chuckled awkwardly. “Yep. Except now we’re both wanted criminals.”

Thorne raised an eyebrow. “Both?”

Cress flushed. “Yeah, these windows aren’t tinted. They probably all saw me, and now I’m an accomplice to robbery.”

“Well then, Goldilocks, I think it might be time to show you my post-heist ritual.”

Thorne waved off her questions for another half hour, before he deemed it safe enough to get off the freeway and find a gas station. They parked and headed inside, keeping their heads down and both wearing hoodies. (This was the first of many of Thorne’s hoodies Cress stole).

In the abandoned bathroom, Thorne finally showed her what he was talking about. His hair, naturally a golden brown, was dyed black, and the stubble he’d been growing was shaved off as well.

Then it was her turn.

“Cut or dye?” Thorne asked, holding scissors in one hand and a box dye in the other.

She twisted a strand of her long, golden hair around a finger. Goldilocks. He called her Goldilocks. She liked that.

“Cut.”

“Awesome. I’m a great hairstylist. It’s my true calling.”

“So it’s not actually crime you’re called to?” Cress snickered as he began to snip.

“Well, that too. Crime and styling hair.”

“What a combo.”

When he was done, her hair littered the floor of the bathroom. Cress couldn’t stop staring, or running her hands through it.

“Does this make you my official partner, Goldilocks?” Thorne asked with a smile.

“I think it does.”

It was nice to be a part of something.

~~~~

“I’m bored.” Cress complained, splayed out on her bed.

“Uh huh,” Thorne replied, eyes flicking through a magazine he’d snatched that morning.

“I’m tired of pickpocketing.”

“I know you are, princess,” He turned a page, still not looking at her.

“Let’s go rob somewhere.”

That sure got his attention.

“I’m sorry,” Thorne started, “But did I just hallucinate? You want to rob someplace?”

Cress sat up to look him in the eye. “I mean, I don’t want to do the actual robbing. You do that. But I haven’t been your getaway car in weeks, and I’m bored.”

Thorne gave her a thoughtful look. “It has been a while. And I am tired of not being able to afford things.”

“So let’s do it!”

Her partner in crime glanced around the shitty motel room. “Not here. We need to find a better town.”

“Well, duh.” Cress fished around in Thorne’s bag and procured the road map. “It’s gotta be a bigger town than this hole-in-the-wall kind of place.”

So that was how the rest of their night went. Searching for a town nearby that was big enough to have a variety of places to choose from. A quick jog from the freeway, preferably, and with a low rate of crime to ensure police wouldn’t be super prepared for something like this.

It took another day of pickpocketing before they had enough for food and gas money, but they did it. Set out on the road, a plan in motion. Cress almost couldn’t believe it. She was the one who suggested robbery.

That beaten-down girl from the suburbs far away was long gone now. Instead, the new Cress was in her place. The Cress that was confident in her abilities.

And, of course, the Cress who was also hopelessly in love with her best (and only) friend.

They reached the town quickly enough. They’d driven for longer hours before. However, they’d set out later than they wanted, and as such reached their destination much later than they wanted. It was almost one in the morning when they finally pulled up to a motel just outside their chosen city’s limits.

“You got any rooms?” Thorne asked the night manager through a yawn.

“Yeah, just one though.”

“Whatever, we’ll take it.”

The rest of the transaction was quick and wordless. Cress was slumped against Thorne’s side, nearly asleep on her feet. He grabbed the room key and they trudged to the room, both half-asleep.

He unlocked the door. They stepped inside, just like they had dozens of motel rooms.

This one, however, was markedly different.

Instead of their regular two beds, this one only had one.

Taking in the scene, Cress woke up a bit, stiffening slightly.

“Shit,” Thorne mumbled, “This isn’t right.”

“It’s the last room available,” Cress reminded him.

“Right. Okay, I’ll take the floor. Just toss me one of those pillows and I’ll be good.”

Cress snorted. “I’m not doing that. You just drove all day. I’ll take the floor.”

“What? No way. Take the bed, Cress.”

“No, you.”

With a loud groan, Cress finally said, “Fine! We both take the bed! It’s not that big of a deal.”

Thorne’s eyes went a bit wider. Cress could feel her face start to warm. She looked away.

“I- no, that’s-”

“Goddamn it, shut up and sleep in the bed. We’re big kids, you take one half and I’ll take the other.”

And that was that. Neither bothered to change, as tired as they were, instead just slipping their shoes off and climbing into bed.

The first thing Cress noticed about sharing a bed was that it was warm. Really warm. This was fantastic, as she was always cold when she slept.

“Cress, what are you-”

“Shut up,” She sighed, as she curled herself closer to Thorne’s body, “You’re warm.”

“Oh.”

Not only was her whole body warm, but her face was burning. This was a bad idea. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Thorne was stiff in her arms, and she squirmed closer.

“Relax. I can’t sleep if you’re stiff as a board.”

“Sorry,” He whispered. He became a little less tense, which Cress decided was good enough.

In minutes, they were fast asleep.

~~~~

Cress woke up cold. Which totally sucked, because she’d gone to bed nice and warm. When she cracked open her eyes, she noticed that the bed was markedly empty.

Sitting up, she looked around for Thorne, but caught no sight of him. She sat up further, looking over the edge of the bed.

Oh.

He was sleeping on the floor, snoring very quietly. He took the scratchy blanket the motel provided, along with one of the towels and a pillow, and had made himself a place on the floor.

Cress’s face positively burned. Burying her face in her pillow, she let out a silent scream of embarrassment and frustration.

She’d thought into it too much. Of course he didn’t like her like that, why would he? She was just some random girl he’d picked up off the road, the brains of his criminal operation. He wasn’t secretly in love with her. He never was.

It was early. And she was still tired. But just to make sure she didn’t wake him up, Cress slipped into the bathroom to have the cry she so desperately needed, before tiptoeing back to bed and falling asleep once more.

She woke up many hours later, to the sun shining bright into her face. Thorne was awake, she determined by the shadow moving about the room.

“Hey there, Goldilocks,” Thorne chuckled, “Was that bed just right for you?”

“Yeah, it was fine,” She replied, not meeting his gaze. “What time is it?”

He snorted again. “Noon.”

“Damn.”

He tossed her a bag, which she caught quickly. “Lunch. Or, for you, breakfast.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh at that. “Thanks.”

The day passed slowly after that. Cress showered, thankful for the hot water to rinse off the grime and the feelings of the past few days. She and Thorne watched shitty reality TV that was on at three pm, laughing when he got way too into Say Yes to the Dress. Finally, they couldn’t ignore the rumbling of their stomachs anymore, and decided to go find dinner.

Of course, in order to get dinner, they needed money. Something they were in short supply of. Time to work the crowd again.

They had morals about who they pickpocketed. Or, really, Cress did. If she wasn’t around she was sure Thorne would definitely be an old lady purse-snatcher. But he always made sure to only steal from well-off people ever since Cress joined him.

Her gaze followed a man dresses in nice clothes from where they sat on a bench, Thorne’s arm slung over her shoulder in an effort to look casual. She nudged him, pointing at the target with her eyes.

“Nah, that Rolex is fake. He’s only pretending to be rich. But that guy over there-” He pointed out someone else, and Cress started up the act.

“Sir!” She chirped brightly, stepping directly in his path. The man started, taking in the tiny girl before him.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m trying to find my cousin, have you seen him?”

The man glanced around. “What does he look like?”

Cress stood on her tiptoes, gesturing as she spoke, “About this high, same hair and eyes as me. I just saw him, I don’t know how I got lost!”

From behind the man, Thorne gave her a conspiratorial wink as he plucked the wallet from his back pocket. The look was clear. Keep working him.

“I saw him over there last, do you see him? It’s hard to see with this crowd.” She pointed away, keeping his attention elsewhere as Thorne rifled through the wallet, stuffing bills and coins in his own pockets.

“No, I’m really sorry. Maybe try calling him.” The man gave her a smile, and began to walk away. As he retreated, Cress spotted the bulge in his back pocket, where the empty wallet had been replaced.

“Thanks for your help, mister!”

She turned to Thorne as they made their way to a more secluded corner of the street, “How’d we do?”

“Great, actually! That guy had a lot of cash on him. Let’s go eat.”

As they walked, Cress was suddenly aware of Thorne grabbing her hand, holding her close. She glanced up at him, heart pounding.

He just smiled. “Wouldn’t want to lose you for real.”

~~~~

“Drive!” Thorne shouted, slinging his whole body into the car.

“But-” Cress protested.

“DRIVE!”

“Okay, okay, geez!” Cress pressed the gas, but Thorne sat up behind her.

“Faster! Cops will be here any minute!”

Cress’s heart was in her throat as she sped up. “But I blocked the signal.”

“And you said it yourself, it only holds for as long as the satellite is in position, which it will be out of any time! We’ve gotta go! Faster!”

So Cress went faster. At Thorne’s instruction, she did her best to throw off the tail of anyone who could be following. Screaming around turns, suddenly going back the way she just came, tearing through alleyways and side streets. She ran every red light she could, narrowly avoiding accidents multiple times.

“Maybe you should drive,” She suggested after a few minutes, but Thorne shook his head with a smile.

“Nah, you’re pretty good at this. I knew you had it in you.”

Eventually, they made it out of town, a bag full of stolen cash and goods. Thorne took over driving, but only after Cress stopped the car and demanded it.

“So, you hungry?”

“Huh?”

“Are you hungry?” Thorne repeated. “You did great today. You deserve a treat.” After a glance at a sign on the road, he asked, “Does Sonic sound good?”

“I guess. I’ve never had it.”

His jaw dropped. “You’ve never had it? Jesus Christ, your life is sad.”

Cress wrapped her arms around herself, glancing down. Thorne seemed to realize his mistake. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s fine,” Cress lied, not meeting his eyes. “Let’s get this Sonic thing or whatever.”

“You’re gonna love it, Goldilocks. Promise.”

He was right. She did love it. And as they sat, eating greasy fast food beneath the stars, the earlier argument was forgiven and soon forgotten.

Cress promised herself that night that her life would never be sad, not ever again.

~~~~

“This is literally the worst idea, idiot,” Cress groaned, standing awkwardly outside a place she really didn’t belong: The local liquor store.

“Relax, it’s fine,” Thorne assured her, hauling along a case of White Claws. “You’re eighteen, that’s old enough to have a little drink, I think.”

“You’re not even old enough to legally buy it!” She protested.

He smirked, waving a little card with his other hand. “Fake ID, blondie.”

They made their way back to their motel, still arguing.

“We’re going to be here for a while during the planning part! We can at least have a little fun! It’s not like I’m going to a bar or anything.”

“Yeah, but if the cashier knew it was a fake ID and called the police, everything could be done for!”

His eyes narrowed. “Wait. So you’re not against the principle of underage drinking itself, but rather the fact we could get caught?”

She looked away. “I mean, it’s whatever.”

When the door was locked, Thorne opened up the case and cracked one open. “I like the lime ones the best. You’ll probably like the lemonade one better. Or maybe the raspberry. They’re sweeter.”

Glancing between the curtains and the blinds shut tight, Cress assured herself that nobody was outside, nobody was watching. With a sigh, she opened up a White Claw of her own. “You’ve thoroughly corrupted me, Carswell Thorne.”

“It’s what I do best, sweetheart.”

That was a new one.

They got a little planning done as they drank, but as the night wore on, and they both indulged themselves in another drink, then another, they started caring less and less about the upcoming heist.

Cress noticed she felt different by White Claw number two, but had another, just because she wanted to try all the flavors. Lemonade so far was the best, raspberry a close second. Mango, despite being a good flavor on its own, was actually disgusting. And Thorne had claimed all the limes for himself.

Everything around her was fuzzy. It felt like she was swimming in her own head. And everything was also really funny, too. At one point Thorne burped loudly, and while normally Cress would have groaned and scolded him, this time she began to giggle hysterically.

Thorne shot her a concerned glance. “Okay there, Goldilocks?”

Cress snickered. “You’re funny.”

“Right. And you are drunk. How many-” She noticed his eyes widen at the two empty cans, and the one in her hand. “Shit, Cress, that’s enough.”

He snatched the can from her, and she flopped onto the floor, still laughing. “Everything’s so spinny, Thorne.”

“Yeah, I’m getting you some water. Stay right there.”

“Sir yes sir,” She slurred, then giggled at her own voice.

Water began to run in the little bathroom. What had Thorne said about water again? Curious, she pulled herself up, then stumbled towards the sound.

He doing something at the sink. Cress slipped behind him, then in a sudden burst of immense confidence, wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his strong back.

“Cress?” His voice came out almost strangled. “What are you doing?”

“You’re warm,” She mumbled. “I like hugging you.”

Thorne sighed. “Not that I don’t like hugging you too, you need some water, maybe some Advil, and then you need to go to bed.”

He tried to pull away, but Cress held on tighter. “Noooo, don’t leave,” She whined.

Thorne managed to maneuver himself so instead of being wrapped around his back, she was facing him, chest to chest. “C’mon, Goldilocks, drink some water.”

She gave him her infamous puppy dog eyes, but he shoved the glass in her face. “Drink up.”

“You’re mean,” She muttered, but did as he said and drained the glass. She looked up again, her blue eyes meeting his own. “You didn’t wanna be my snuggle partner last night, and I got cold.”

Thorne looked away, and if she wasn’t so buzzed, Cress might have noticed the blush.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay? Can you dress yourself?”

She definitely had too much liquid courage. “You could help me, if you wanted.”

Thorne pulled away. “No thanks. You seem capable enough. He stepped out of the bathroom, and passed her a pair of pajamas from the outside. “Drink some more water while you’re at it.”

When she opened the door again, she instantly latched onto him again. “Cress,” He chuckled awkwardly, “I can’t move.”

“Then you can’t leave,” She murmured. For some reason she felt really sad now, almost to the point of tears. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never, Goldilocks. Let’s get you to bed.”

He tried to move, but Cress held tighter. “You’re gonna have to drag me,” She warned.

“Not a problem.” In one motion, Thorne swept her off her feet, literally. Carrying her bridal style, her arms wrapped over his shoulders, he carried her effortlessly to the bed. The single bed, that they both shared.

She was laid down on the bed gently, but Cress refused to let go. “Don’t leave me,” She whispered, over and over again. With nowhere else to go, Thorne finally gave in and laid down with her, letting the smaller woman curl against him.

“Goodnight, Cress.”

Her eyes were heavy, but she looked at him anyway. “You always kiss my head goodnight.”

His face flushed harder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She unlatched one hand, tapping the top of her own head. “Right here. Almost every night.”

He couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes again, she knew. With a sigh, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss on top of her head. Cress gave a happy sigh, and settled down on the pillow.

Neither of them moved all night.

~~~~

Everything hurt the next morning. Her stomach, her joints, her head.

“What in the fuck happened last night?” She mumbled into the shoulder of the person next to her.

The… person in the bed with her.

Cress shot up violently, instantly regretting it as her head throbbed harder. The person the shoulder belonged to groaned, opening up their eyes. Their familiar eyes.

“I feel like shit,” She sighed, as Thorne sat up next to her.”

He chuckled. “I kinda guessed that you would. You overindulged, princess.”

Things were coming back in bits and pieces, though everything was still fuzzy. “Why’d I have so much?”

“You wanted to try all the flavors.”

Right. “Mango tastes like shit,” She lamented, “I’m never drinking again.”

“Then who’s going to help me finish off the case?” Thorne chuckled.

“I would have helped you with the limes if you didn’t hog them all for yourself.”

“Princess, if I let you have a fourth you would have woken up in the hospital.”

“No, not a fourth, I mean instead of the nasty mango-”

Suddenly, as she leaned closer, Thorne winced, and backed away. “Whoa. Hangover breath. You need a shower.”

Cress’s face flushed. “Yeah. I’ll go do that.”

As she washed off the feeling of last night’s mistakes, more memories came back. But not quite everything. She was still missing a chunk: why she and Thorne had woken up in the same bed, after he’d left her alone the night before.

She got dressed, brushed her teeth, and drank some more water, before stepping out of the bathroom with the towel still wrapped around her dripping hair. Thorne stood up to take his own shower, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Hey, did… anything… happen, last night? I can’t remember everything, and if I said something weird-”

“Nah,” Thorne replied with a shrug, “You just got giggly, then suddenly weepy and clingy. You were really set on me not leaving you alone.”

She ducked her head, blushing. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Thorne assured her. “I mean, you’ve never been drunk before, it’s not your fault you didn’t know how you’d respond.” With that, he stepped away, into the bathroom, which was soon filled with the sound of running water.

Cress sighed, glancing around the motel room. Last night’s activities had left it trashed. So while she waited, she cleaned up.

About twenty minutes later, they were both back in the car, on their way for some coffee. Thorne had even decided to get black coffee for once, in an effort to ward away the hangover.

“So…” He started awkwardly, and Cress’s heart stopped. What was he going to say? Had she really embarrassed herself last night?

“You wanna talk about why you were so obsessed with me not leaving? I mean, I know before all this your life was pretty shitty, so I get it if you don’t want to talk, but-”

“My dad left when I was seven.” She stated simply.

“Oh.”

They got their coffee, and headed back to the motel. Thorne met her eyes again with another awkward smile. “You also seemed pretty upset that I slept on the floor the other night.”

Heat rushed to her face. “It’s not that big of a deal, it doesn’t matter that much.”

“Drunk Cress had other things to say.”

She didn’t answer.

Back inside the room, Thorne spoke up. “You wanna know why I slept on the floor?”

She shrugged. “It’s whatever. It’s fine if it was too much or something. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

His blue eyes got big. “No, no, that’s not what happened. Look, Cress, have you ever slept with anybody before?”

“What?!” Her entire face went red, and Thorne’s did as well, when he realized his words.

“Shit, no, not like that. I mean have you ever shared a bed with somebody before?”

“Oh. No, I haven’t.”

“Listen, Cress.” Thorne leaned in close, and her heartbeat somehow sped up and stopped at the same time. “I liked sleeping in the same bed as you. But…”

Oh no.

“You kick. Like, a lot.”

What?

Cress nearly spat out her coffee. “That’s why you slept on the floor?!”

“Yes!” Thorne laughed. “It was all fine and dandy until you kicked me in the groin at three in the morning!”

Her face fell into her hands. “Oh my God.”

“And I mean, I had to save the boys-”

“Shut up! Stop talking!” Thorne gave a loud cackle, and Cress gave into her own hysterical laughter. “That’s what this was all about?”

Things fell back into place easily after that. In fact, they seemed to fall further into place. They plotted and they schemed, searching out their target and making their plan. They never went in blind, and they weren’t about to start now.

And when they slept, they slept in the same bed. Thorne tucked her into his chest, arms holding her steady, and she never felt cold or alone while she slept. To keep from kicking, Cress twined their legs together.

Neither mentioned the obvious shift in their relationship. But they both knew it was growing deeper by the day. They woke up in each others’ arms. Thorne came up behind her randomly during the day to wrap himself around her waist and rest his head on her shoulder. He kissed her head before they slept each night. Cress was never asleep.

The day came, the day they’d been planning for weeks. They were ready. Whatever happened today, they knew that no matter what, they’d always have each other at the end of the day.

~~~~

“Cress, you read me?”

Sitting in the car, ready and waiting for his voice, Cress replied, “I read you. How’d it go?”

“Without a hitch! Incoming in about three minutes.”

“I got you, captain.”

“Ooh,” Thorne chuckled over the speaker, “I like that.”

Cress rolled her eyes. “Focus on running, doofus. I’ll be there.”

“Mwah!” The line went dead, and Cress tossed the burner phone like she always did. She arrived at the rendezvous in two minutes, eight seconds, leaving the doors unlocked for their quick exit.

Thirty-four seconds later, and the familiar sight of Thorne running for his life arrived. With a wild grin, he threw himself and the bag inside, and Cress sped away. At this point, she was an expert at losing the police.

“How much?”

“Close to five thousand!” He beamed. “It’s gonna last us a long time!”

“You’re fantastic,” She grinned back.

“Nah, sweetheart, it’s all you. I’d totally be in jail by now if I hadn’t met you.”

“I mean,” Cress giggled as she sped out to the freeway, “Prison’s always still on the table.”

“Then don’t get us caught, blondie.”

“You wanna stop at a gas station and change your look?”

Thorne glanced in the mirror, seeing they weren’t being followed. “No, I think the ski mask was enough. Plus, I wore the lifts in my shoes just like you said, so they can’t see my real height.”

“Cool. So, where to now?”

Thorne leaned back in his seat. “Wherever your heart desires, milady.”

Cress smiled softly, finding his hand over the center console. “Okay. Let’s go.”

~~~~

They switched cars that night, then kept driving. The adrenaline was keeping Cress going, even as Thorne finally dozed off. She’d forgotten how good that rush felt. Thorne had fully turned her into an adrenaline junkie, the same as him.

During the planning phase, they plotted their escape route thoroughly. There were multiple directions to exit, and they scoped each one out to see what worked the best. In the process, she’d looked extensively at the road map. And for whatever reason, the tiny, blip-on-the-map town called Farafrah was calling to her.

So that was where she went. It wasn’t too far away, but far enough that they’d be safe from the police of the other city. They could lay low for a bit before continuing on. There were so many other places to go. Cress wanted to see it all.

This time, it was Cress who drove through and got dinner. Cress who rented the motel room for the night. And it was Cress who urged Thorne out of the car and inside. Where the single bed was waiting.

They had their routine down pat. They rinsed off, even though it was eleven o’clock, changed into pajamas, and settled down for the night. Cress curled into Thorne’s side, her safe place.

“Goodnight.” Tonight, his kiss was on her forehead. And tonight, it lingered. Cress was smiling as she fell asleep.

Many hours later, she was woken up by another gentle kiss to her head. “C’mon princess, you’ve had enough beauty sleep.”

She rolled over, a contented smile on her face, even if she had to squint at the light coming in through the curtains. “Morning,” she whispered, voice raspy from sleep.

“I’ve found a nice brunch spot. I think you deserve something nice after everything yesterday.”

Cress sat up, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes. “You spoil me.”

“You know it, Goldilocks. I bet this place is gonna be just right.”

That earned him a pillow to the face, Cress rolling her eyes. “You doofus.”

“OH! I’ve been mortally wounded by my dear lady!” Thorne groaned from the floor. Cress peered over at him, only to have the pillow chucked back at her head.

“You don’t know what you’ve just started,” She warned with a smile. Within seconds they were in a full on pillow fight, flinging pillows bath and forth as they screamed with laughter.

After a few minutes Thorne managed to get the upper hand, smacking her right across the face with a pillow. Cress was knocked down on the bed, and he pinned her down with a laugh. A moment later his fingers found purchase under her arms, and he tickled her until she squealed.

“Stop! Stop! I forfeit!” Cress giggled, squirming away. Thorne was panting with laughter, still sitting on top of her.

“Learned your lesson, princess?”

She smacked his face with another pillow and escaped to the bathroom with her clothes.

Finally, nearly half an hour after she woke up- a new low for the duo who could get up and out in three minutes- they made their way to a little brunch spot in the middle of the littler town.

Their waitress was a woman about their age with a prosthetic hand named Cinder. She had a lot of personality, and had enough sarcasm to rival each of Thorne’s witty remarks.

About halfway through the meal (which was delicious), a little idea began to form in Cress’s mind. When Cinder came back to refill their drinks, Cress decided to ask her a question.

“How’d you end up here?”

The waitress shrugged. “Car broke down. Stayed to get it fixed, ended up making some friends and decided to stay. I could ask the same of you two.”

Thorne and Cress glanced at each other, before Cress replied simply, “Travelling through.”

Later, when she came back to deliver the check, Cress asked another question: “If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?”

Both Thorne and the waitress gave her a quizzical look. Thankfully, neither asked for elaboration. Instead, Cinder donned a slightly puzzled look as she thought.

Finally, she responded, “I want to open up a mechanical repair shop. For all kinds of machines.” Her dark eyes lit up as she began to ramble a little bit, about all the kinds of things she could do, what she could learn. But after a minute, her voice took on a slightly somber tone. “But, that’s not gonna happen. I’m always worrying about rent nowadays, I don’t have enough to save for anything.”

“How much is your rent?” Cress continued. The waitress stiffened.

“Why do you want to know?” She asked suspiciously.

Cress squeaked, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, but…” She scrambled for a quick lie.

Thankfully, Thorne picked it up for her. “We’re thinking of moving here. We just wanted to know how much rent was.”

Cinder relaxed. “Oh. Well, it’s about $600 a month.”

Cress smiled, taking the check from their waitress. “Thanks, Cinder. It was great. We’ll fill this out in a minute.”

Clearly dismissed, the woman offered them a smile before departing. When they were alone again, Thorne turned a questioning gaze over to her. “What was that all about?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. I just… wanted to know. She seemed nice.”

“I agree. I’ll give her a good tip.”

Cress’s smile got big. “Wait, let me run back to the car real quick. I want to give her a big tip.”

She came back just two minutes later, her pockets stuffed. Thorne’s eyes got big. “How big a tip do you mean?!”

Cress methodically smoothed the $50 bills out, keeping them out of sight below the table. She tied the stack with a hairtie she kept on her wrist, and stuck it inside the little checkbook left on the table. Just to make sure they were really clear, she scribbled out on the receipt, “The money is for the meal. The rest is for you. Good luck.”

Primly, Cress stood up, brushing her leggings off. She offered her hand to the man sitting next to her, whose jaw was pretty much on the floor. Almost in a daze, he took it, and she led him out to the car.

Finally, back in the motel, Thorne rounded on her. “What the hell, Cress?! How much money did you give her? A thousand? Two?”

“Two thousand.”

“What the fuck! Why?!”

“Because,” Cress took his hand, looking deep into his blue eyes, “She needed it. More than we do, really. Thorne, whenever we run low on money we pickpocket and we steal and we rob. That girl, she’s too good for any of that. And if something like that didn’t happen, she was going to spend the rest of her life stuck in that restaurant, in this town in the middle of nowhere where she’d never grow.”

Thorne sighed heavily, rubbing the back of her hand with her thumb. “I wish you’d at least told me before you did it.”

“Why?”

That gave him pause. “I guess… we’ve been so in sync for months now. I feel like I know you, Cress, more than I’ve ever known anyone. And yet, I had no idea you were nice enough to just give away two thousand dollars to a stranger.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re that nice too, Thorne.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

Cress gave his hand a little squeeze. “If you weren’t that nice, you’d have taken the money back. You like to pretend you’re this big bad hardened criminal, but you’re still good, deep down. You show me that every day.”

At that, he pulled her in for a hug. “It’s because of you, Cress. Blondie. Goldilocks. Princess. Every day, you remind me that there’s still good in the world. Even if it’s not us doing the good. But you… you make me want to be good.”

Cress might have been crying. Thorne was definitely crying, his tears falling into her golden hair. “You saved me. Carswell Thorne, you saved my life that night. I always dreamed when I was little that someday I’d be saved. You’re my knight in shining armor.”

Thorne pulled away, still holding her, still sniffling. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Cress. I hope you know that.”

“I hope you know you’re the same to me.”

~~~~

They decided to stick around in Farafrah for a few more days. They had a bit more money to burn on fun before they got moving again and needed to get back in the swing of their criminal ways. The pair spent the day exploring the little down, taking in the sights. And at night, they cuddled in bed, watching whatever happened to be on TV until they got so tired their eyes were falling closed.

It was the morning of their second day when the objective suddenly changed.

Thorne came into the room, bringing coffee and croissants with him. As well, he’d managed to procure a local newspaper, which he handed to Cress alongside her breakfast.

The pair sat in comfortable silence for about twenty minutes, simply basking in the other’s presence as they ate. When she finished with her croissant, Cress opened up the paper.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

“Cress?” Thorne glanced over when he heard the soft gasp. “What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, she passed him the paper, pointing out an article. It wasn’t hard to miss, in big, bold letter along the top: LOCAL ANIMAL SHELTER UNDER INVESTIGATION DUE TO CLAIMS OF ABUSE AND NEGLIGENCE.

“Shit,” Thorne muttered, “That’s awful.”

“Those poor animals,” Cress lamented with a sad sigh. “I wish we could do something about it.”

For Thorne, he thought that was the end of it. He headed out to go explore some more, but Cress opted to stay behind. He didn’t think too much of it; she was a fairly antisocial personality and had done a whole lot of talking to strangers the past few days. She probably just needed a day to herself to recharge.

What he didn’t expect, however, was to come back several hours later to find empty coffee cups and a couple RedBull cans strewn about, and Cress hunched over her laptop looking nearly frantic.

“Whoa, what’s all this?” She glanced up, and Thorne took a step back. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot.

“Thorne. I’ve got it! I know how we can do something! We can save all those animals! Come here!”

Cautiously, he took a few steps closer. Cress grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him over. She was surprising strong for someone so petite.

And what he saw pulled up on her screen…

HOW TO MAKE A HOMEMADE BOMB

“Whoa! Cress, slow down!”

“But I figured it out! Sit down, I’ll go over it with you!”

He yanked his arm away. “Cress. Look at me. Listen to me. We cannot blow people up because they might be abusing some shelter animals.”

Her blue eyes hardened. “Well, that isn’t the plan. We’re not blowing up people. Even if they deserve it.”

“When did you get so violent all of a sudden?” He took another glance around the room. “I’m never letting you have a RedBull ever again.”

“But-”

“No. No bombs. The police will take care of whatever’s going on with the shelter.”

Cress gestured around the room, almost violently. “How can we trust that?! The police haven’t caught us yet.”

Thorne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. What the hell. Tell me your plan.”

She almost squealed with delight, but he cut in- “That doesn’t mean we’ll do it though. And if you go solo and get caught, I’m not bailing you out for your own mistakes. We don’t bomb. We rob.”

“Okayokayokay, listen up. Here’s how it goes…”

~~~~

It was exactly two months since they’d met, and the new duo had just completed their third heist. They’d robbed a fast food joint after it closed. Cress was really good at finessing the alarms so they didn’t sound as they emptied the registers.

Now, they were still driving. It was late, and Thorne was beginning to doze off. He needed to find a rest stop soon, or risk running them right off the road.

As for Cress, she was quickly headed in the same direction. Her head would tilt forward as she fell asleep, just for a few seconds, then rapidly jerk back, and she’d go back to fighting sleep.

“You can sleep, you know, blondie,” Thorne offered. “I’m looking for a rest stop so we can sleep for a bit.”

“But you’re driving,” She protested through a yawn, “I don’t want you to be alone.”

He cracked a smile at that. “I’m not alone. I’ve got you now.”

“No, but-” Another yawn- “You won’t have anyone to talk to. I’ve gotta keep you awake so you don’t kill us both.”

“I’m not gonna kill us both.”

Her eyes flicked up, out the windshield. “You’re drifting.”

“Shit.” She was right. He rubbed at his eyes, wishing they’d stopped at that gas station a few miles back to grab an energy drink. The rest stop was about two miles ahead, but Thorne was really beginning to struggle.

“Can’t fall asleep…” Cress mumbled, just as her head tilted forward again. Thorne snorted when, once again, she jerked up with a groan of frustration.

“Just sleep, Cress,” Thorne urged gently. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

She gave a cursory glance out the car, seeming to check and make sure he was still driving correctly. Finally, after another long minute, her head titled. She was falling asleep again.

This time, however, she dozed off with her head against his shoulder.

Maybe it was the time of night. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. But for whatever reason, having Cress against his shoulder, safe and sleeping, felt right. More right than anything else had in his nineteen years of life.

They made it to the rest stop ten minutes later. Thorne pulled off to the side and put the car in park before turning it off. Cress snoozed on.

Finally, he could relax. Thorne leaned back with a contented sigh, smiling a bit to himself as Cress nestled further against him.

He wrapped an arm over her shoulder, keeping her close by. And, for whatever reason, that felt right too.

Maybe it was the same reason that caused him to plant a tiny, barely-there kiss to the top of her golden head.

Yeah. It was just the sleep deprivation, for sure.

~~~~

They were doing this. They were actually doing this. Thorne was going crazy. Why had he agreed to this again, exactly? He shot a glance at the blonde woman at his side.

Right. Her. Since when had his judgement been so addled around her?

Always, idiot, his brain reminded him.

Shut up, brain.

They were inside the largely-contested Farafrah Animal Shelter. The same one that was under investigation for abuse and negligence.

Holding his hand, Cress smiled brightly at the man leading them among the cages. Her other hand gripped the straps of her purse. To everyone else, the smile was genuine, but to Thorne, who knew her best, it was as fake as could possibly be.

“And these are all of our felines we have at the moment. Do any of them possibly interest you?”

Cress shot Thorne a smile, this one a bit more real. “Let’s look around, darling, shall we?”

“Of course, my dear.” He gave her his best impression of an adoring look. Little did he know it was about as real as it could get.

“I’ll give you two a moment. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Cress squeezed his hand harder and dragged him to the farthest cage in the room. As they passed cage after cage, they saw the same things they had with the dogs: matted fur, frightened animals, some so scrawny their ribs were evident even from a distance. Neglect. It was bad. They reached the end of the room, and Cress took a glance inside the cage they stood next to.

Instantly, her face lit up as she took in the cat. It was a black and white thing, scrawny really, the nametag reading “Boots”.

“He’s so cute!”

“No.”

“But-”

“That’s not why we came,” Thorne sighed, making sure the man was really gone.

Cress sighed. “But he’s so cute. And wouldn’t it be nice to have a little companion?”

“A cat? As a roadtrip companion?”

“A cat is better to your criminal look, you know. So you can turn around in a chair dramatically while stroking his fur and say ‘I’ve been expecting you’.”

Thorne rolled his eyes. “Life’s not a TV drama, princess.”

“Life is its own drama! Make it your own!”

“How would we even take care of a cat on the road?”

Cress dragged him closer to the cage. “Just look at him. Look at his sad little face. He’d be the perfect roadtrip cat. I just know it.”

Thorne opened his mouth to protest again, but then the black and white furball gave a plaintive mewl and all the thoughts left his brain.

“Okay… he’s kind of cute… I guess.”

Cress nearly squealed with delight. “He is! Besides, think about it; we need a plan to get into the office. It’s the perfect ruse!”

Boots the cat meowed again. “You wanna go commit crimes with us, buddy?” Thorne asked.

“Meow!”

“He says yes,” Cress whispered conspiratorially in his ear. “Let’s get him.”

As they walked to the office, Thorne hung his head in defeat. “I can’t believe I just let you talk me into getting a crime cat.”

The blonde had a bounce in her step, swinging their joined hands delightedly. “You’re fully at my disposal.” Oh, she didn’t know how right she was.

It took a few minutes to reach the office from the kennels, but they both knew that. Cress had hacked the blueprints for the building several days ago, and they’d both memorized them from top to bottom. The offices were the furthest away from the kennels, likely to keep the noise down.

Finally, they reached their destination. Cress knocked politely on the door, bringing out her most innocent look. The one that always served the perfect distraction while Thorne expertly stole their wallet.

The man answered the door after one knock. “Have you made a decision?”

Cress and Thorne locked eyes, then turned back an nodded in unison. “We have.”

The paperwork was extensive, and Thorne was sure he had to sign his name at least a hundred times. He made sure to read carefully, though; Cress had warned him about possible legal traps. By law, animals shelters were required to vaccinate all their animals before adoption, and strongly push the idea of neutering. But in the paperwork, vaccines were of no mention. The entire time, the man simply sat silently with a small serpentine smile.

Finally, after the paperwork was signed and handed back, the man stood, offering Thorne a hand to shake, which he took reluctantly. “I’ll go pick up your new lovebug, okay?”

“May I come with you? Please?” Cress employed the puppy dog eyes. They were about eighty percent effective on Thorne, and that was after he spent months working to resist them. The man stood no chance.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

“I can’t wait! Darling, hold my purse; I want to hold the precious kitty.”

The man herded Cress out of the room, leaving Thorne to sit quietly by himself.

Or so he thought.

When he was sure they were gone, the young man sprung into action. Inside Cress’s purse was a small package, hardly bigger than his hand. A homemade bomb she’d spent days researching. It was activated by a remote control, so it could be jostled as much as he desired and still wouldn’t explode.

It was important it was planted in the office. They would detonate it after hours, so no people would be injured, and it was far enough away to keep the animals unharmed. Their only goal was to make the place unusable, which would then force the animals to be relocated to other shelters where they’d hopefully receive better care.

Thorne moved quickly and efficiently, like he always did with his missions. There was a reason he was such a successful robber; he didn’t get distracted, and he always got the job done. After a minute of rifling around the room, he settle on hiding the bomb in a bookshelf on the far wall. This office’s wall was also an outside wall, so it was nowhere near another living soul. Perfect.

Five minutes later, the pair returned, Cress carrying a new cat carrier. “Here he is, darling! The newest member of the family!”

The goodbyes were quick after that. They made it to the petshop part, where they bought some food and the most important part: a cat leash. They walked out with their new charge, both of them pretending to ignore the front desk lady’s comment of “such of cute couple!”.

“Phase one, complete!” Cress said with a smile, still holding his hand. In the cage, the cat, Boots, seemed to give them almost a grateful look. Almost like he was saying thanks for getting me out of there.

Thorne gave a glance behind him, to the retreating animal shelter. “Phase two in t-minus eleven hours.”

Cress leaned against him as she walked. “Aye aye, captain.”

~~~~

Phase two of their master plan commenced, as said, eleven hours later. The duo spent the next several hours getting acquainted with their new cat, whom they hadn’t even intended on buying. As it turned out, Boots was a fantastic cat. Affectionate and sweet, he warmed up to both of them instantly. And he didn’t seem to mind the car either, one of the most important factors.

Later in the evening, they packed up. Their motel room was paid for another whole day, but that was just a countermeasure. They already had a secondary vehicle in waiting, and would abandon their current one in the motel parking lot. As always, they had everything planned down to the last detail.

Now for the big finale, and the most difficult part, too. Sneak close enough to detonate the bomb, then get away fast enough to not get injured in the blast and not caught up in the investigation.

The sneaking part was easy enough. They’d done that plenty of times. Sure, Thorne had to boost her over a few fences, and they had to do some real super-spy action in a tree to get over a sleeping dog’s head, but they made it without a hitch.

The concrete walls of the animals shelter loomed before them. They tracked around it once, scanning for anyone who could get in their way, and came up empty. Time for the moment of truth.

Cress and Thorne met up at the point, the spot Cress had calculated earlier to give them the best chance of success based on the bomb’s location.

She took a deep breath. Now or never.

Silently, Thorne’s hand laced with her own. Cress held the detonator out in front of her.

And she pressed it.

~~~~

Smoke. Smoke and fire. Smoke and fire and haze and blood and pain-

“Thorne-” Cress gasped, throat rasping, “Something went wrong!”

There was no answer.

Cress suddenly became aware that she was alone. She was lying in the dirt, still gripping the detonator. And Thorne wasn’t with her.

A massive section of the wall was complete dust. Fire and smoke billowed out, clearly originating from the point where the bomb must have been. A few stray papers fluttered about, before they were quickly seized by the flames.

“Thorne?” Her voice was quiet.

“Thorne!” Louder.

“THORNE!” Cress shoved herself up, testing each limb. Everything was in working order. Despite that, she knew something was wrong, so wrong.

The explosion shouldn’t have been that big. She calculated it over and over again, even explained the math to Thorne so he could do it himself. They both got the same answer.

This was not their answer. The fire was spreading quickly. Alarms went off inside, but the spray of water was doing little to quell it.

Nearly robotically, Cress pulled her burner phone from her pocket. She and Thorne had gotten them in case of emergency. They hadn’t expected to use it.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“There was an explosion at the animal shelter. There’s a huge fire. Hurry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Don’t let anyone get hurt. Please.”

She hung up before the operator could speak again. With all her might, she hurled the phone into the fire. By the time they found it, it would just be an unusable hunk of metal.

And then she ran.

All the scheming, all the plotting, all the plans went out the window. It was the dead of night, and Cress ran. She didn’t dare yell for Thorne; she had that much sense left. But with every step she felt it.

Something had gone horribly wrong, somehow. She must have forgotten something in her calculations. Maybe her information was wrong.

If both of them got out unscathed and unarrested, it would be a miracle, she knew it.

So lost in her own thoughts, she nearly ran face-first into someone who had stepped out onto the sidewalk. With a scream, Cress came to a screeching stop, standing and panting as she assessed the situation before her.

The woman was young, with dark hair and eyes and tan skin. And her hand… it was strange. A flash of recognition appeared in her eyes.

“Cinder…” Cress breathed. The other woman startled.

“Oh my God. It’s you.”

“I- it’s not what it looks like-” She followed Cinder’s gaze. Right to the detonator still in her hand.

“I swear, nobody was supposed to get hurt. I already called the fire department, if they get there in time they’ll save the animals-”

“Cress,” Cinder whispered, “Stop talking. Just go. If I see police I’ll cover for you. I promise.”

She stood still. Flabbergasted. “W-why would you do that?”

Cinder shrugged. “Because I know you’re a good person. Maybe you’ve got a convoluted way of showing it, but you’re good. Besides,” she cracked a tiny smile, “It’s thanks to you I might have a shot at my dreams.”

Then her voice took on a note of sudden seriousness. “Get out of here. The Farafrah police are no joke. Take the back alleys.”

Cress nodded numbly. “I will, I just have to find Thorne first.”

Cinder stepped closer, pulling her into a sudden hug. “Thank you. Both you and your dummy boyfriend.”

Cress found herself blushing, despite the situation. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

The other woman smirked. “He should be. He’s madly in love with you. He’d move the heavens and earth for you. Maybe consider telling him how you feel. Of course, after you’ve gotten out of here.”

“Right.” Cress chuckled. “Bye, Cinder. It was lovely meeting you.”

With that final goodbye, Cress began to sprint. Just as Cinder suggested, she took the back alleys. Thorne would be okay. He had to be. He’s okay. He has to be.

By the time she made it to the abandoned parking lot, the rendezvous point, police sirens had joined the firetrucks. The stolen red car… it was on! Idling in one place, waiting for her.

“Cress!” Thorne shouted, flinging the door open and throwing himself at her. He pulled her into his strong arms, pressing his face against her soot-stained hair. “God, I was so worried. I couldn’t see you in the dark so I headed back here. I was just about to go searching.”

Cress didn’t want to let go of him. Not now, not ever. But… “We’ve gotta go.”

“I know,” Thorne breathed, “But I was just so worried. It made me think… what if I lost you?”

She pulled back, just slightly, just enough to see his face in the dark. “What do you mean.”

“I mean, I started to think about you, Cress. How much I’d miss you. And how much I’d regret it if I lost you, and I hadn’t even done this…”

His voice trailed off, and Cress was about to ask what on earth he meant, when suddenly his lips were on hers.

Carswell Thorne is kissing me. Kissing. Me.

Her brain might have short-circuited, just a bit. But after a moment of frozen hesitation, she was kissing him back with just as much fervor, taking his face in her hands to pull them impossibly closer.

Thorne’s head tilted, and their lips fit together like they were always meant that way. His hands stroked at her golden hair, the hair he loved to much. What the hell; the girl he loved so much.

He might have told her as much when they finally came up for air, and she might have said it back. But all words were forgotten moments later, when they both spotted the flashing lights in their peripherals.

A police car, heading to the scene. If they were seen…

“Hey,” Cress whispered, beaming so wide her face hurt as she tugged on Thorne’s sleeve, “How about you be my getaway car for a change?”

“Yeah?”

She stood on her tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Risky, in their situation. “Yeah.”

Thorne brought her hand, so small and delicate, to his lips. “For you, Cress, you know I’d do anything. Crime for the sake of crime. Crime for the sake of justice. Whatever it is, wherever life takes us, just know that you’ll always have me. I promise I’ll never let you feel alone, ever again.”

He stroked a stray tear from her face. “C’mon, Goldilocks. It’s time to make our grand exit.”

She made herself comfortable in the passenger seat, glancing where she knew the gun lay, tucked inside the glovebox, just for show, never loaded. The gun that saved her life.

Thorne tore out of the parking lot, speeding down the streets of the tiny town at three am, just begging to be chased as they passed the animal shelter. The fire was nearly out, animals being evacuated by the second.

She caught his gaze with her own. Blue on blue. “Police chase, huh?”

He smiled, gripping her hand in his own. “You know I like to show off.”

Sirens blared behind them. Cress’s grin grew. “Then let’s give them a show.”

Thorne leaned down and kissed her over the center console. “I thought you’d never ask.”

~~~~

a/n: Oh my gosh. I cannot believe I just wrote that. All that. I haven't written in a month and this felt fantastic!!! I hope y'all enjoyed! Reblogs and comments are so appreciated! <3

#mal's fics #the lunar chronicles #tlc #marissa meyer #cress darnel #carswell thorne #cresswell #cress x thorne #tlc au #tlc ship weeks 2021 #tlc ship weeks

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aellynera · 3 years

Text

The Best Years of Your Life (Reeves x Reader)

THE BEST YEARS OF YOUR LIFE

(hey hey, this is my other submission for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! and yes, you read that right - it’s REEVES. i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it! CONGRATS Amanda!!)

Word Count: um like 6200ish oops it was supposed to be a blurb

Summary: They say the best years of your life happen in high school, but what do they know?

Warnings: Some language. Female reader implied but no pronouns/description. Teenage angst. Adult wistfulness. Mostly fluffy tho. No promises about proofreading. Frog murder.

with the prompt - “Like what you see?”

It all started back in high school. Sometimes you wonder how often people say that, and if it’s really true or they’re just falsely remembering how things happened because high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life.

But in this case, it’s true. Because high school is when you met Reeves.

Sophomore Year. High School. A Friday.

It was the third day of sophomore year, fourth period on a Friday morning, your last before the lunch break. Biology class was maybe the one you were least looking forward to, not exclusively because of the required frog dissection, but pretty damn close. Gross. And you never understood why the school year didn’t just start on a Monday, but you were new here in San Diego. Maybe they just did things differently.

It was bad enough being the new kid. It was worse when you walked into class halfway through the lecture, even if it wasn’t your fault. The timing of the move was weird, and you’d spent most of the first two days, and this morning, doing placement tests and talking to your counselor.

And now you were being called out in front of the entire class.

“Ah, there you are,” your teacher announced as you walked in the door. “Everyone, this is our new student, please make them feel welcome. You can sit over there.”

Your eyes followed as she motioned to the empty seat at the lab table in the back of the room. Suddenly you weren’t sure if your face felt hot because of embarrassment or because of the boy in the other chair.

Dark, curly hair cut close on the sides but longer on the top. Deep brown eyes framed by long, long lashes. Full, plush lips curling up into his cheek on one side. A nose that, okay, maybe might be a bit oversized but for some reason worked on his handsome face and--

Well, shit. Definitely not the embarrassment.

You shuffled your way to your seat and slid into it with your head down. A few students watched you curiously but soon turned their attention back to the lesson. You tried your best to focus on what was going on, to not look to your left at the distraction next to you.

You weren’t very successful.

By now you thought you’d sneaked enough covert glances to know that we was wearing a leather jacket, had a small diamond stud earring in his left ear, a bunch of silver-studded brown suede wrap bracelets around both wrists, a silver ring on his right index finger, and oddly precise handwriting as he took notes. In between relevant facts the teacher was sharing, he was doodling tiny music notes in the margins of his notebook.

And he totally caught you looking.

“Like what you see?” he leaned over and whispered.

Your mouth felt drier than the Sahara but also somehow so moist you were afraid you might have actually drooled on yourself. You should have opened your mouth to respond but your brain refused to make the connection. Probably for the best.

At least, at first. When it finally caught up to you, the only response your brain could provide was, “Maybe?”

Now would be the perfect time for the floor to swallow you whole.

He just winked at you and his attention went back to the doodles around his notes.

You shifted your gaze back to your own notebook, but you don’t know if anything else of importance was said, and don’t remember writing anything down. The bell ringing sharply pulled you back to reality and you hastily shoved your books in your backpack, ready to escape.

Just as you were about to leave, a voice called out. “Hey, sorry about earlier. If I freaked you out or anything.”

You looked up. He was smiling at you, a little shyly. You bit your lip, your brain and mouth still refusing to connect.

He stuck his hand out. “I’m Reeves. You’re new here?”

“Um…” you smacked yourself internally. This was ridiculous, you weren’t really shy, you knew how to have a conversation, he was just introducing himself. You were going to have a serious conversation with your brain later about proper communication techniques.

It felt like hours had passed, but you finally pulled yourself together enough to respond. “Yeah. My- my dad got transferred for work, we moved here like a week ago. He literally dragged the family across the country. I’m originally from New York City.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, cool! I always wanted to go to New York City!”

You found yourself smiling back.

“Do you...wanna sit with me at lunch?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe you could tell me a little about the city? And...about you, since we’re gonna have to commit heinous acts of violence on an amphibian together? I’d like to know who’s wielding a scalpel next to me.”

The giggle that escaped your throat could not be contained. This boy - Reeves - was adorable. “Oh. Okay, yeah. I’d really like that.”

The Present.

Poor Lenny the Frog never stood a chance. Then again, neither did you.

To be fair, Lenny was already dead when you and Reeves got your hands on him. Well, when you got your hands on him, because for the full first half of that specific class period, Reeves refused to touch him and nearly turned as green as Lenny once was. That’s when he insisted on naming your cadaver, because somehow giving it a name made it easier to deal with.

You were pretty sure Reeves was nuts.

By the middle of sophomore year, you were dead too, but not for the same reasons.

By the middle of sophomore year, you weren’t sure how you were still alive, because every time he looked over at you and gave you a sly smile during class, gave you that look, you felt your heart go taut and you forgot how to breathe and certainly, rightfully, should have been dead.

Your friend Alexis stuck her head into your bathroom. “Hey, we’re just waiting on Vanessa, and then we’re good to go. Drinks first? The show doesn’t start until 8 so we have time.”

You glanced up from your makeup and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Alexis grinned. “Aaaaaah I’m so glad you agreed to go out tonight! It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Oh, it’s gonna be something,” you muttered, going back to your eyeliner.

Alexis had been the first one to see the concert announcement about a week ago. A benefit show at one of the clubs down in Greenwich Village, some punk revival thing (for charity) with a bunch of different singers and musicians. Not normally your scene, but Alexis scanned through the names and suddenly remembered you’d known Reeves in high school. You said yes, he was in your class, and you’d been lab partners once. Vanessa squealed in excitement and Alexis announced you were going to the show. There was never any actual agreement.

Because of course Reeves was going to be there. And of course, you had to be too.

Junior Year. The Parking Lot. A Tuesday.

“I’m just saying, it was a ridiculous foul, and it should never have been called,” Reeves groused as you walked out of the gym.

“We also should have made like twenty more of our own foul shots,” you pointed out.

The Lake Howell Silverhawks had fallen to their arch-rivals in a somewhat glorious fashion. You didn’t even like basketball that much. But that didn’t really matter. The games were just an excuse to go out for burgers before and hang out with your friends during.

It was definitely an excuse to hang out with Reeves.

Junior year, you were both disappointed to find you didn’t have any classes together, but you still almost always ate lunch together. He’d come over to your house to study during the week and sometimes just to chill out on the weekends. Over the past year, he’d shown you all around the city and taken you to his favorite places. You told him all about New York, how you missed it and one day you’d go back, and all the famous sites and which ones were tourist traps that he was only allowed to visit the very first time and then never again.

You spent so much time together, even your mother liked to tease you about why he wasn’t your boyfriend.

It took a while for you to find the words to tell her it was because he was someone else’s.

As much as you liked to pretend she didn’t change anything, Randie Rustenberg changed everything. It was gradual, like a creeping vine of ivy, and she slowly took him over. There was no malice; it was just one of those things that happened. Reeves spent less time with you, his best friend, and more time with Randie, his girlfriend.

The girlfriend you desperately wished was you, because ever since that first biology class you’d had the biggest, stupidest crush on him.

Eventually you had a boyfriend of your own. Theo was a nice guy, he really was. Polite, friendly, had a good sense of humor, liked your family. And your family loved him. Your mother was so happy that you had a boyfriend, she seemed to forget to ask how Reeves was and if you’d seen him lately.

Of course you saw him. You saw him every day, in the cafeteria, at his locker, passing by in the halls. Sometimes you could find him playing the grand piano on the stage in the empty auditorium. Yes, if your mother bothered to ask, you saw Reeves all the time. Now it was just always with her.

Except this week. It was a break of sorts, no classes, just some sports and other school activities. Randie was on some trip with her parents for some kind of church function, and Theo was fishing with his dad on some lake up north. He’d told you where, but you honestly couldn’t be bothered to recall. So when a bunch of your friends and a bunch of his friends all said everyone was going to the basketball game, there was no debate.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

Sometime during the game, your friends wandered off to the snack bar and never ventured back. His friends started a game of hacky-sack under the bleachers. And you found yourself pretending to understand all the finer points about hoops strategy, cheering and yelling along with Reeves and having a great time, just like you used to.

“Where’d you park?” he asked as you left the gym and headed out into the sea of cars. You vaguely pointed in the direction of yours and he grinned. “Oh, good, I’m that way too. Come on, I’ll walk you.”

The faint glow emitted by the lampposts in the parking lot bounced off his curls and his eyes, when you could catch a glimpse, were bright beneath them.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

The walk wasn’t very far, but it felt like it was over in a second. You hadn’t said anything on the way, just soaked in the comfort of walking next to him as he kept commenting on the game.

He was waving his hands everywhere, looking at them as he talked as if his hand motions would make things make any more sense to you, in the middle of saying something about your center and how they needed to get better about blocking out when you finally spoke.

“Oh, shit.”

Reeves looked up at you. “What, you don’t agree?”

You dropped your bag on the ground and rolled your eyes. “No, my car is locked and I left my keys inside.” You pointed to the passenger seat. Your keys stared back at you derisively.

You both stared back at them for a moment, then he grinned. “Hang on, I got you.” He held up one finger and trotted off to his car, coming back a minute later with something in his hand. “This should take care of it.”

You took a step back. “Reeves? Um. Okay, why do you have a coat hanger in your car.”

He rolled his eyes back at you. “For emergencies, duh.” He quickly twisted the hanger into a hook shape and went to your passenger side window.

“And why do you know how to break into a car with said coat hanger?”

“Like I told you,” his tongue poked out between his teeth as he worked, “for emergencies. You think I haven’t locked my own keys in my car once or six times?”

“Did Randie teach you how to do this?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think. She probably had. She might have been churchy when required, but she was also responsible for about half of Reeves’s stints in detention (the other half just being him making the wrong joke at the wrong time and pissing a teacher off.)

Thank god he didn’t seem to hear you as he kept working at the lock. Finally you heard a *click* and he pumped a fist into the air with a little “yessss!”

And then you’re not really sure what happened. You bent down to pick up your bag and then you were standing up and Reeves’s face was literally about three inches away from yours and for the eight thousandth time since you’d know him, you forgot how to breathe.

Neither of you said anything for what felt like days. You just stared at each other under the dim halo of the parking lot lights.

“Here you go.” He took your hand and dropped your keys into it.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Like what you see?” the corners of his mouth quirked up, just the slightest little bit.

“...Maybe.”

And the staring recommenced. Were you two getting closer? Physically closer, you meant, of course you were close, you’d always been close. Well, at one time you were really close but then Randie Restenberg happened and it wasn’t fair that she got to know what those lips felt like and did he always smell this good or--

“Yo, Reeves!” A pickup truck full of guys skidded to a stop behind your car and one of his friends - Jake? Jack? you barely remembered your own name right now - stuck his head out the window. “Fight to the death ping pong tourney at Matt’s house! You in?”

Reeves bit his lip and closed his eyes for a second before he pulled back with a soft “I’m sorry” before turning to his friends. “Um, yeah, sure. Sounds brutal. I’ll meet you there.”

The pickup sped off, tires screeching out of the parking lot. Reeves turned back to you, but you’d already gotten into your now unlocked car and started the engine.

You rolled down the window a fraction and gave him a weak smile. “Hey, um. Thanks for saving my butt. Now go kick theirs at ping pong, yeah?” Your face felt so hot, and for once you were grateful for the dim lights in the lot.

“You could, um, come along if- if you want.”

“Nah, I’m...I’m tired, I’m just gonna...um, head home. But I’ll see you tomorrow maybe?”

Reeves looked like he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stepped onto the curb in front of your car, smiled, and raised his hand in a little wave as he watched you drive off.

The Present.

A series of shrieks and the slamming of the door told you Vanessa had finally arrived. It sounded like they were jumping up and down on the tile just inside your front door, which was ridiculous since you’d all just seen each other the day before. But typical.

You smoothed a pinkie under your eye, checked your makeup one final time, and went into the living room.

“Oh, you look hot,” Vanessa gushed. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and plopped down on your couch. “Who are you trying to impress tonight?”

“Reeves, of course,” Alexis laughed, leaning on the kitchen counter. She sorted anything she might need from her big purse into a little evening bag as she talked. “You know we go to all his shows. And you know they went to high school together.”

You snorted. “That was a long time ago. I’m not even sure he’d remember me.”

Vanessa waggled her eyebrows. “You’re probably right, No offense, honey, but no one was that hot back in high school.”

He was, your brain supplied. Very helpful. You smiled wanly.

Vanessa continued. “But you were friends, right? You’ve never really talked about it. God, it must be so cool now to think that you were friends with Reeves back when he was an awkward high school teenager.”

“Reeves was never awkward,” you laugh. “It was kind of unfair.”

“But you totally had a crush on him,” Alexis offered.

Had? What do you mean, had? Oh my god, shut up, brain.

A pillow flew in your direction and you ducked as Vanessa giggled and Alexis rolled her eyes. “Come on, tell us something about him,” Vanessa goaded. “Wait. Was he, like, your prom date? That’s your secret! You totally went to prom with Reeves and you never told us!”

Senior Year. Prom. A Saturday.

The night was not supposed to go this way.

It was supposed to be limousines and corsages and dinner with dates and friends. It was supposed to be endless pictures while your mother told you how gorgeous you looked and how handsome he was and your father gave a thinly-veiled shovel talk about how he knew what happens on prom night and what would really happen if that actually happened. It was supposed to be punch and cookies and balloons. It was supposed to be dancing closer than the chaperones were comfortable with and kissing with tongue when they weren’t looking.

It was supposed to be the best night of your life. It was supposed to be fun.

Nowhere in your weeks of dreaming of this night did it involve sitting on a bench in the girls’ locker room, knees pulled up to your chest, while the party carried on in the gym just beyond.

It definitely didn’t involve crying.

The bass beats of the deejay and the harmony of laughter temporarily got louder as the locker room door opened, and then faded back into a muted thumping as the door closed again a second later. You could hear footsteps headed in your direction but before you could unfold yourself and wipe your tears away, a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, there you are!”

Being able to find the words to describe how he looked in his tux, his curls slightly tamed by some gel, the blue rose (of course it would be an off color, why would he pick something standard?) pinned to his lapel, his lopsided grin… Finding the words was nearly impossible.

Of course he would show up now. Because your night wasn’t already crappy enough and half the reason you were sitting there weeping instead of out there dancing was standing right in front of you.

You realized that wasn’t fair. It was probably more like, twenty-five percent of the reason, and it wasn’t his fault. But that didn’t make it any better.

“Why are you in the girls’ locker room, Reeves?” you sniffled.

He furrowed his eyebrows and his nose scrunched up in concern as he took in your mascara-streaked cheeks and puffy red eyes. “One of your friends said you came in here like half an hour ago and nobody’s seen you since. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly not.” He sat down next to you. “Wanna talk about it?”

A deep, shaky sign left your chest. You didn’t really want to talk about how, earlier in the evening, you’d excused yourself to use the restroom and come back to the gym to find Theo dancing with...you didn’t remember her name, nor did you care. You didn’t mind that he was dancing with another girl, in theory, but it was another matter entirely when his hands were on her ass and she was sucking a deep purple mark into his neck. And he was laughing.

A short, vicious argument ensued in the coat room after you’d cut in and dragged him off by the elbow. And it turned out that he’d been seeing whats-her-name for months, somehow, behind your back while pretending that everything was perfect with you. When he was supposedly visiting his grandparents? He was with her. When he had to work an extra shift? He was with her. When he got off the phone with you, saying he needed to get to bed early? He was calling her.

Prom wasn’t supposed to involve a very public break-up.

And things didn’t get any better when, deciding you needed something to drink, you went back into the gym and immediately saw Reeves and Randie, dancing cheek to cheek, arms snugly wrapped around each other as a soft, romantic song wafted through the air. Because of course he was with her. She was his girlfriend and Reeves wasn’t a detestable cheating asshole.

There was always another her.

You couldn’t handle it.

So you took off to somewhere almost guaranteed to be empty. You figured the locker room wasn’t really the kind of place kids would want to make out, and you were right. It was blessedly empty. Until now.

But you couldn’t tell him the second part, so you just went with the first. His eyes got wide as you blubbered through the sordid details of Theo being a complete and utter twat. Another quivery sob half-burst from you and Reeves got up. He grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to you as he sat back down.

“Thanks,” you hiccuped.

“I never liked him,” Reeves announced.

You found yourself choking on a huff of air. “What? Yes you did! Everybody loved him. That’s what makes it extra shitty.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

Reeves cocked his head and looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “Did you love him?”

Your mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Why did you always seem to forget how to make words when Reeves asked you questions?

“What?”

He shrugged. “Everyone else loved him. Did you?”

You used every last ounce of willpower you had to not jump up on that bench and shout that of course you didn’t love Theo, you idiot, because I love you.

That would not make this night any easier.

The next thing you knew, Reeves put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, hugging you soundly. He rested his cheek on the top of your head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re better off without him.”

You dabbed at your eyes. Nope, still couldn’t make words.

Minutes, hours, days. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, pressed to him and feeling him breathe beneath you. You no longer had any idea how long it had even been since everything crashed around you and he’d come to try and help you pick up the pieces. You just listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady, as the muffled music and joyful shouts of classmates went on past the closed door.

Finally he spoke again. “Hey, you wanna get one of those complimentary pictures?”

“What?” Oh, great. You were finally able to answer his question but you could still only come up with that one word? Stupid brain.

“Well, I…” he sat up straight and, after the briefest look into your eyes, he glanced away. Was he blushing? You weren’t sure. “I always kind of...I kind of thought we’d have a prom picture together. I mean, I just figured, y’know, we’d go with a bunch of friends, but I always hoped I’d get a picture with my best friend.”

The sniffles were back in an instant. Damn him. “Reeves, I...you really want to get a picture now? I look horrible, I can’t get a picture taken like this!”

He took the paper towel from your hand and gently dabbed at your cheeks. “You couldn’t look horrible if you tried. Come on, it’ll be fun. And just think how excited your mom will be when she gets a copy of it.”

Despite your best efforts, you had to laugh. “Okay.”

You headed to the photo area after you washed your face, Reeves helped you wipe off the stray streaks of mascara, and you reapplied just a bit of makeup to make yourself feel better. You were never sure what Reeves said to the photographer before the shots, but he seemed quite happy to take multiples. Reeves stayed pressed against your back with his arms down around your waist, hands clasped together in front of you, for each and every one.

At some point between the second and third shot, he leaned just a little closer into you and you suddenly felt his breath against your ear. “Like what you see?”

For maybe the first time that entire night, your face broke into a genuine smile. “Maybe.”

For a few minutes, your night was absolutely perfect.

The Present.

It was the greatest date that never was.

“No, Reeves was not my prom date,” you told your friends with a shake of your head.

You left out most of the other details, partly because you didn’t want to answer eight hundred questions from Vanessa and partly because, well, you just wanted those moments for yourself.

After the pictures, Reeves had asked if you would like to dance. Until then you didn’t realize it was possible for eyebrows to shoot that far up a person’s forehead, but yours were up for the challenge. You’d mumbled something about if Randie would mind, because you were sure she absolutely would, but he brushed it off. Randie had gone off with her friends when he came to find you, and he really wanted to dance with you, just one dance with his frog murder accomplice. And he said that with a straight face and a twinkle in his eye and there was no way you could refuse.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

One dance turned into two, and then several, until the girlfriend in question finally did show back up and Reeves was pulled away, leaving you with a soft smile and a mouthed “sorry”.

Definitely the greatest never-date.

After prom, life returned to what vaguely resembled normal. Your love life sucked and Reeves still had a girlfriend that wasn’t you, and you didn’t see him much. To be fair, the end of senior year and graduation did creep up pretty fast so there wasn’t a lot of time anyway. Graduation was there before you knew it; he cheered for you and you cheered for him as you each walked across the stage. You made brief appearances at each others’ graduation parties and talked a bit and then, once again before you knew what happened next, it was time to leave for college.

You went back to New York. Reeves stayed on the west coast.

And over the years, like so many other people before you and after you, you just fell out of touch.

“And anyway,” you asserted, “we were just kind of friends. Yeah, like I told Alexis before, we were lab partners sophomore year, and we hung out sometimes, but that was it. Really.”

Alexis snorted and Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm.”

You threw the pillow back at her. “Mmmhmm.”

“All right, you two,” Alexis chided. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Somehow, you managed to get down to Greenwich Village without further interrogation and minimal shenanigans.

The Present. One Hour Later. Another Saturday Night.

The bar inside the club was pretty packed. Granted, it was a Saturday night down in The Village, so it wasn’t too uncommon, but you were honestly surprised that this many people showed up for a punk retrospective.

There were a few other relatively big-name acts you recognized on the bill, and a fair number of people were wearing t-shirts with Reeves’s most recent album cover on the front. There were even a few that had shirts with his face on it, which was frankly kind of weird.

“Looks like you’re not his only number one fan,” Vanessa smirked.

“I just enjoy his music,” you said off-handedly as you tried to flag down a bartender. “But anyway, tonight isn’t even about him. We’re just here to support charity, right?”

Alexis pretended to agree with you. “Right.”

You glared at both of them before turning your attention back to the bar. Yes, you came to every one of his shows in the area. When you had time. When you could take the night off. When you could rearrange your schedule and switch shifts at the last minute and promise favors to be able to attend them. When you maybe once or twice just called out sick because nothing else worked. So what.

They were really starting to get on your nerves.

The bartender finally noticed you and took your order, and you looked around the club again while you waited.

Lots of people, ranging from just-allowed-to-buy-booze to mid-sixties businessmen. A few folks that looked to currently be in their golden years but were clearly once punks in their prime. Many people in black and chains and mohawks and neon hair and piercings, to the point where you honestly couldn’t tell who was a performer and who was a patron.

The one person you were looking for was the one that you couldn’t pick out of the crowd.

“He’s gotta be here somewhere!” Vanessa’s voice shouted from somewhere behind your shoulder.

“Vanessa, you’re getting a little weird about this,” you called back as you grabbed your drink and turned around.

“Like what you see?”

Eyes wide and mouth slightly hanging open, you almost dropped your full glass.

Vaguely, nearby, you heard the sound of glass shattering and shot a glance to your left. Alexis really had dropped her drink, and Vanessa was clutching onto her arm for dear life. She was holding her glass at a slightly odd angle and the contents were dripping onto one of her shoes.

The crowd silently pulsed backwards as one, clearing out around the four of you for a respectable distance. Several people watched curiously; surprisingly, they just stood back and stared instead of trying to get involved.

Reason Number One why you really couldn’t blame them: Reeves stood there, right in front of you. Literally less than two feet away, looking right at you. His mouth pulled up into his familiar lopsided grin, his hair still dark but shot through with strands of silver, curly on the top and shorter on the sides. His nose with the little dent, perfect on his face under those dark, luminous brown eyes and...holy shit, was he wearing eyeliner? He was wearing eyeliner.

Reason Number Two why you really couldn’t blame them: Leather pants. Under his old, faded t-shirt and black leather jacket (you were used to seeing him in brown, but you had to admit the black looked good) he was wearing leather pants.

Reason Number Three why you really couldn’t blame them: Quite simply, Reeves was standing in the middle of a bar in New York City and he was talking to you.

You blinked once, then twice. You may have blinked more times but all you could think about was the fact that, after all these years, your brain still couldn’t make words when Reeves asked you a question.

That same old question.

Suddenly you were grinning back, completely ignoring your friends and their dumbfounded squawking and sputtering next to you. You were smiling because even though your brain couldn’t make full sentences of words, it could pull one particular word out of the void and let it come out past your lips.

“Maybe.”

Reeves grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and the crinkles at the corners deepening.

Someone - maybe Vanessa, maybe a total stranger, you couldn’t be sure - might have swooned from the sidelines.

“Always told you I wanted to come to New York,” he said.

“Always told you I’d go back.”

And the next thing you knew, the next thing that made any sense anywhere in your mind, was that Reeves had stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and placed the softest, sweetest, most heart-achingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You pulled away in a daze, felt the heat rising in your cheeks, as you heard a muffled choking sound halfway behind you. Definitely Vanessa.

Alexis and Vanessa’s eyes, already bugging out of their faces, nearly fell out of their sockets when Reeves turned to address them.

“Hey, ladies. I’ll come talk to you after the show, but for now, I just need to borrow your friend for a few minutes, okay?”

There were somehow still more bizarre, mostly inhuman noises that came out of your friends and even later, when they’d deny ever acting like that in front of a famous rock star (and rolled their eyes at you when you corrected them that he was a musician, not a rock star), it wouldn’t matter because you weren’t paying a single bit of attention to them them anyway.

You only had eyes for one person.

He took your hand and pulled you past the bar, into a little room in the back; the office, presumably. The second you were both inside, he wrapped his arms around your waist and looked you in the eyes. He just stared for a few minutes, or maybe hours, you weren’t sure.

It really didn’t matter.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he whispered.

“Third day of school, fourth period biology class, sophomore year?”

Reeves smiled softly. “The second you walked in that door.”

“Why didn’t you?” you tilted your head to look at him. Okay, to gaze into his eyes. You tilted your head to gaze into his eyes and your subconscious hoped to any gods that would listen that you did not have actual hearts or stars in your pupils.

Not that it really mattered.

His arms never left you but he gave a little shrug. “Never seemed to be the right time. And then I had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “And I ended up with that lame excuse for a boyfriend. But do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?”

“When you couldn’t stop staring at me when you sat down at the lab table next to me?”

“Hmmm, maybe. But definitely when you told the teacher we had to have a funeral for Lenny.”

“Hey, Lenny was a fuckin’ hero,” Reeves batted his eyes at you innocently. “He performed a brave and great service to his country.”

“I am oddly happy you’re still an idiot,” you giggled.

“I’m ecstatic that you kept coming to all my shows in the city.”

You pulled back slightly and looked at the ceiling. “You noticed?”

Reeves gave you that look. That look he always gave you, when you were teenagers, when you said something either completely ridiculous or completely profound. That look he gave you when he thought you might not be looking, even though you were always looking. That look that said he always had your back and you were his best friend. That look that you thought you’d be lucky to see one more time but probably never would.

That look.

“Of course I noticed. I thought about having security make you stay back, but that’s just...no. You always looked happy, and I don’t know...I just didn’t want to intrude, I guess? Just always wondered why you never stuck around after the shows, never stayed to talk to me, never came knocking on the dressing room door.”

You thought about that for a minute. You really did try, but you couldn’t come up with a decent answer. You were happy. Just seeing him was enough, you told yourself. Just hearing him sing was enough, just being in the same room with him, just being near. Just like it was back in high school.

Only it wasn’t high school anymore, and now that he’d finally, finally - after years of would’ve and should’ve and maybes - kissed you, you knew enough wasn’t going to be, well, enough.

So that’s what you told him.

And Reeves pulled you close, leaned in closer, and kissed you again.

You pulled apart, breathless again, and rested your foreheads together.

After minutes, or maybe days, or maybe hours, and definitely years - it didn’t really matter - Reeves was there. You were there. And for once, you were really there together.

“Like what you see?”

“...definitely.”

The Future. Any Day. Every Day.

You always thought, and your friends always said, that the best years of your life happened in high school. And to a certain extent, that was true and you believed in that notion for a very long time.

But ever since that night, that one glorious night in a Manhattan bar, you realized you were wrong.

The best years of your life were still happening.

~end~

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r0zyp0zy0zy · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I’m new to the Haikyuu fandom but Kageyama is my favorite so far!! Can you do numbers 20 and 24 with him please? Thank you in advance! 🧡🖤

Haikyuu!! Prompt list trial

HQ!! Prompt list

Thanks for requesting! I’m also fairly new to the Haikyuu fandom <3

The other requests are in the works, they might just take a bit longer bc I’m swamped with school stuff! Happy reading :D

Words: 2400+

Warnings: possible weight trigger?, Kags calls you heavy 😔

Pairing: Kageyama Tobio x FEM!reader

Prompt(s): 20- "I didn't mean it like that, I was trying to... tease you. That's what you do, right? When you have feelings?" & 24- "don't leave me here with her/them!"

The mind of Kageyama was mostly a mystery; his skull hollow with a few volleyballs bouncing around. He wasn't the smartest to say the least— Have you seen his report card?

So, when his heart pumped 10x faster than when he was on the court when he was around you, he only thought he wasn't feeling well that day. Next was his voice; constantly stuttering for no apparent reason when he was chatting with you. Kageyama had not a clue what was going on with him until Tanaka spoke up for him, asking how long Kageyama was going to wait before asking you out. The boy in question just wrinkled his nose and went to toss another ball to an energetic redhead.

Nishinoya and Tanaka cornered the unsuspecting setter in the club room, trapping him with their looming auras. Kageyama only stared at them quizzically for a moment before a phone was shoved in his face.

"Look, dude, check out this article!" Tanaka grinned, raising his eyebrows.

"Is it about volleyball?" Kageyama asked as he threw on his uniform.

"No—"

"—don't wanna look at it then," Kageyama interrupted his upperclassmen, grabbing his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder.

"C'mon bro!" Argued Nishinoya, blocking the door with pure physics, clinging to the frame, "we just wanna help you get with y/n! This Wiki article will save you from your lack of social awareness around her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kageyama mumbled, glancing at the phone pointed at him. It was titled: 'How to Flirt with Girls'. Now, he wasn't necessarily considering reading it, but it was tempting. "Why d'you want me to flirt with y/n? She's my friend."

"She's your crush is what she is. Are you really too dense to realize your feelings?" Tanaka said. "Actually- yeah. You are. Here, I'll text you the link."

Later that night when Kageyama was trying to sleep, his mind wandered in circles thinking about his feelings towards you. He didn't think he had time to develop a crush, but here he was pulling up his phone to check the link his upperclassman sent him. He squinted at the bright WikiHow screen, and scrolled down to read the captions. He glanced at the first three options, not really reading (or caring) about 'don't forget to smile!' and 'don't cross your arms'.

The only title that caught his eye was 'Tease Her'. Kageyama knew how to do that; it was easy. He did it with Hinata all the time! He blushed just thinking about making you flustered, a wish that he didn't know he had until tonight. He didn't bother with reading the rest of the article, feeling confident in himself that he knew what to do. He threw his phone back onto his nightstand and cuddled into his bedsheets, grinning wildly.

Tobio didn't know what he was getting into when he asked Tanaka and Nishinoya about the skill of teasing. He had only wanted a few pointers from the 'pros', and some advice on what to do after you were charmed by him.

"Oh ho ho!" Tanaka said excitedly, waving his hands around as he ranted. "Make sure to insult her playfully, but always tell her how beautiful she is afterwards! Oh, and don't forget about the lingering touches! Girls love that stuff, trust me."

Kageyama nodded along, turning to Nishinoya, "don't forget to smile! Girls love sweet smiles~."

The raven haired boy was practically buzzing with anticipation as he waited at the table he usually ate at with you, desperate to try out his new flirting techniques. He smiled at you, something he usually did but he tried making it brighter. He felt his chest bubble when you raised your eyebrows at him, giving a cute smile in return.

You were wondering what the hell was up with Kageyama. You knew he wasn't the best at smiling, but when he flashed his teeth it was just downright creepy. You tried not to laugh as you sat beside him, pulling out your lunch to sit on the table in front of you. A huff left your lips as Tobio snatched away your bento, raising it above his head with a playful smirk.

"Kageyama-kun," you raised a brow playfully. "You want me to starve or something?"

"Just watching your weight," he replied, grin still plastered on his face.

You deadpanned at him, giving him a scowl, "don't say stuff like that, it makes me feel like shit."

"You're still p-pr-er, P-p-pretty in my eyes," your friend stammered, his stance wavering. You lazily tried to grab your lunch back, but Tobio's long arms kept it out of your reach.

You sighed, giving him a teasing grin before reaching out and tickling his armpit. He choked out a laugh and your bento fell out of his hand, and you caught it. Kageyama gave you a frustrated pout and watched as you ate your food.

"Serves you right for calling me fat," you said through a mouthful, cringing at your manners, "that wasn't very nice."

"You're only heavy because of your muscle," Kageyama said, propping a fist on his cheek, "you'd be good at serving." You looked at him quizzically, trying to figure out what was up with him today.

"Y-your clothes look cool today," Tobio offered, trying to keep up with his 'flirtatious' act.

"... dude I literally wear the same thing every day. Y'know, my uniform," now you were really confused. Was he messing with you? Or was he just being his usual weird self?

A blush creeped onto his face and he looked away, burring his face in his own lunch. You ate in an odd silence, occasionally catching Kageyama taking glances at you.

"Y-you're, erm, very..." Tobio trailed off, refusing to look at you. His face was red with embarrassment and he stared at his empty lunchbox, tapping his fingers on the table rhythmically.

"Go on~," you pressed, glaring holes in his head.

Kageyama perked up suddenly, putting an arm around your shoulders, "you look heavy, let me hold it for you. Wait—."

"Ok, dude. What's up with you?!" You were getting pissed now, and you quickly packed up your bento. "I'm going to my class early."

Before he could stop you, you peeled his arm from your body and sped walked away into a bathroom. Kageyama blushed in frustration, cursing at his stupid twisted tongue. He couldn't believe he messed up the simplest pick up line, the one that Nishinoya had taught him. Maybe Tsukishima was right, he was going to scare you off before he could make a proper move. He groaned angrily into his hands and shoved his lunch container into his bag, huffing down the hall to get to his class.

You sunk down into your seat, trying not to let the interaction with Kageyama rule your mind. Was was up with him today? You thought. He was usually odd, but not this odd. You laid out your things in front of you and organized them to distract yourself. You slightly jumped at the sound of the first bell, and you heard the hallway outside start to get louder with footsteps and laughing chatter.

"Hi y/n-san!" Yamaguchi said, and you looked up at him.

"Hey," you mumbled.

"What's got you all grouchy?" Tsukishima chuckled as he sat by his desk beside yours.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, "Kageyama-kun was just being a dick during lunch."

"What'd he do?" Yamaguchi asked, sitting in his seat behind you. He gathered his notebook and pencil case.

"He was being really weird. Er, weirder than normal," you started. "He tried holding me back from my lunch and he basically called me fat. But then he said I was heavy because I had so much muscle? Which doesn't even make sense, and then he said I'd be good at setting which is— I mean ok?"

Tsukishima snickered from beside you as he opened his binder, and Yamaguchi blushed a little at his teammate's actions.

"And then he told me that my clothes looked nice. My uniform clothes, that I wear every day," you puzzled almost to yourself, forgetting that your friends were listening to your rant. "Oh, he also said like, I dunno, a pickup line or something? He said that 'I looked heavy and he wanted to hold 'it'' whatever the hell he was supposed to mean by that."

Tsukki had to shove a hand over his mouth to keep himself from combusting into boisterous laughter, Yamaguchi doing the same. You frowned and rolled your eyes, turning to look at the board as the second bell rang.

"The idiot's got a crush on you," Tsukishima spilled, chest shaking from the aftershocks of his laughter.

"W-wha—," you started.

"—Tsukki!" Yamaguchi interrupted. "You told me that you weren't gonna mess with Kageyama-kun's relationships!"

Tsukishima just shrugged before turning to the board, your eyes bulging at him. "He fucking what—."

"I know!" Tsukishima smirked, "I didn't think he had any emotion for anything but volleyball."

You opened your mouth to reply, but got cut off by your teacher. You frowned as you set up your notes, messily writing your name and the date. Kageyama's actions now made sense to you, knowing how awkward he is in expressing his feelings.

After class as you walked down the hall, Tsukishima sported a sly grin. You eyed him quizzically, not trusting the look in his eyes. He smirked harder at your glance and chuckled.

"I have a plan," the blonde said, pushing up his glasses. "I'm gonna shove Kageyama in the equipment room with you."

"And so I get a say in this at all?" You pressed, glaring playfully at him.

"Well, what do you say?" He asked.

"I say yes," you said, Yamaguchi facepalming at your response.

You followed the two boys down to the gym where they practiced, and waited by the door until Yamaguchi gave you the clear that no one was there yet except for the third years. Tsukishima led you to the double doors of the equipment room and you took a step inside the dark room, turning on your flashlight.

"If you hear an even three knocks, open the door immediately," you ordered, shaking slightly. "Incase he does something... weird," you faltered slightly, and Yamaguchi nodded quickly.

"Whatever," the tall blonde in front of you said, "just get in before he comes in the gym— oh, he's here."

The door was closed suddenly, and you were left alone with only your phone flashlight to protect you. You took a deep breath as you heard voices outside the heavy doors, trying to regulate your heartbeat. What were you doing? What was your plan after he gets trapped inside? The doors opened and filled the room with light for a brief moment before the space was consumed in darkness once again.

"Hey!" You heard Kageyama yell beside you, pounding on the door, "what the hell?!"

You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and he whipped around to slap you away, faltering when he realized it was you. His eyes widened and he was glad you couldn't see the blush that flourished on his face. Kageyama was silent for a few moments before hammering at the door again.

"Guys! Don't leave me here with her!" He panicked when you pulled his hands away from the doors, and he went quiet.

"Calm down, Kageyama-kun," you stifled a giggle. "You're only here so you can apologize to me."

"W-what?" He stuttered, body going stiff.

"Just say sorry for offending me," you shrugged. His eyes were glued to the floor, hands still trapped by your grip.

"I- I thought... I didn't mean it like that, I was trying to... tease you. That's what you do, right? When you have feelings?" Kageyama's blush crawled across his whole face all the way to the tips of his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut, terrified of what your next words were going to be.

"So you do have a crush on me," you pondered, loosening your hold on his wrists. The boy in front of you snapped his hands to his sides and anxiously squeezed his fists.

"How...?" Kageyama held his breath, as if afraid of your answer.

"Hmm, a little birdie told me~," you teased, running a finger down his chest. His breath hitched in his throat and a shiver ran down his spine when he felt your hot breath whisper onto his ear, "I'm still waiting for your apology."

"I'm s-sor-sorry for what I s-said at lunch today..." Kageyama stammered, rubbing his arm awkwardly.

"I accept your apology!" You smiled and went in for a hug, crushing his arms to his sides. "Meet me after practice near the vending machines~," you murmured playfully.

"—what are you guys doing?!" Daichi's muffled yell came through the door. "You can't just trap people in there!"

Kageyama tensed and he tried to pull away, but you held him closer. The bright light from the gym poured into the small room, illuminating all of the equipment and yourselves.

"Are you oka— oh," Daichi cut himself off, eyes widening at the sight of a girl hugging his underclassman. You peaked at him over Kageyama's shoulder and gave a shy smile, pulling away slowly.

"Bye, Tobio-chan," you adjusted your bag and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "See you after your practice."

The group of boys watched in silence as you skipped your way out the gym door, too shocked to say anything. Kageyama's face grew hotter and he reached up to touch where you kissed him. He felt like he was going to pass out.

"Kageyamaaaaa!!" Hinata yelled, shaking his friend viciously, "was that your girlfriend?! Why didn't you tell us you had one?! She's so pretty! Why does she even like you?!"

"Chill out Hinata-kun," Daichi said sternly, pulling the redhead away by the back of his shirt. "Kageyama-kun, be ready for practice in five."

Tobio nodded slowly, his hand still on his cheek in bewilderment. He was too excited to tell Hinata off, completely blocking out his friend. He couldn't wait for practice to end.

#anime #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #hq anime #hq x reader #kageyama tobio #Kageyama Tobio x reader #Tobio Kageyama #Tobio Kageyama x reader

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rookie-ramsey · 4 years

Text

A Day at the Zoo (Ethan/MC)

Description: Ethan and Olivia spend a day at the zoo with their twin toddlers.

Rating: Teen. Some mildly suggestive dialogue at the end but nothing NS*FW.

Preview: “Daddy!” Zoey pointed at the biggest giraffe.

This is @aestheticartsx’s fic for my recent fic giveaway. Love you and your sweet positivity! ❤️

Nobody said raising toddlers was easy.

When you doubled the mischief by having twins, life was never boring.

“No clothes!”

Ethan shook his head as he tried to hold his son still. “You have to hold still so I can dress you.”

“Nope!”

“You can absolutely not go to the zoo naked,” Ethan insisted as he managed to get his squirming son into an outfit.

Defeated, Jonah sighed and tried to go limp, which somehow made it even more difficult to get him into a shirt and pair of shorts. Then Ethan picked him up before he could find an opportunity to rip his clothes off, his favorite act of mischief.

Olivia joined him in the living room with Zoey on her hip. “It took way more effort than it should have, but I got her dressed. Do all toddlers hate being clothed, or is that just these two?”

“That’s a good question.”

“Zoo!” Zoey squirmed in her mother’s arms and impatiently pointed at the door.

“Just a minute.” Olivia opened the diaper bag and checked to make sure they had everything. Once she was convinced they had anything they could possibly need for a visit to the zoo, they left the house.

They carried the twins to the car and buckled them into their car seats. Once they were securely strapped in, Ethan got into the driver’s seat and started the car.

As soon as he backed out of the driveway, Zoey grabbed the Velcro on her shoes. She yanked them off and giggled when they tumbled under Olivia’s seat.

Jonah followed suit, and by the time Ethan had reached the end of the street, both kids had removed their socks and were happily wiggling their bare toes.

Olivia sighed. “Are shoes even necessary? They just outgrow them every week.”

“It seems that way. I think they’re just going through a phase where they prefer to be unclothed and barefoot 24/7.”

“I mean… it’s a little relatable.”

When they arrived at the zoo, Ethan removed the stroller from the trunk. He unfolded it and helped Olivia fasten Zoey and Jonah into it. Olivia tucked the diaper bag into the compartment beneath their seats.

Ethan pushed the stroller to the main entrance, where they paid for their tickets. As soon as they entered the gate, the twins started pointing in every direction.

They followed the path, stopping at the first exhibit. Ethan parked the stroller and picked up the twins so they could see inside.

“Grilla!” Zoey identified.

Ethan nodded. “That’s right. Gorillas are really smart.”

“Want one!” Jonah exclaimed when two more gorillas emerged from behind one of the structures in the exhibit.

“That’s probably not the best idea.” Ethan settled them back in their stroller and let them watch for another minute before they made their way to the next exhibit.

Olivia peered into the lion enclosure, amused when all of the lions were asleep on their rocks. “Mood.”

Ethan chuckled. “It’s after eleven o’clock.”

“Exactly.”

“Sleepy kitties!” Jonah waved goodbye to the oblivious lions before they moved the giraffe enclosure. Ethan and Olivia each picked up one of the toddlers to let them see inside.

“Daddy!” Zoey pointed at the biggest giraffe.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “That looks nothing like me.”

“Daddy!”

Olivia smirked. “They know who your ancestors are, Ethan. Don’t try to fool them.”

“I still don’t understand where they came up with that idea.”

“They’re toddlers. Very perceptive toddlers with big imaginations.”

“If you insist.” Ethan settled Zoey back in the stroller. Olivia put Jonah next to her and looped her arm through Ethan’s as they resumed visiting the various enclosures.

Halfway through the park, they reached the polar bear exhibit. Olivia picked both twins up and carried them to the observation deck. “See the polar bears? They’re Mommy’s favorite. That’s why your room has polar bears in it.”

“Big bear!” Jonah held his arms out wide.

“That’s right. They’re the biggest bears in the world. Sometimes their paws are bigger than your whole head!”

Their eyes widened as they pressed their faces to the glass. Zoey pointed at the large bear floating on his back in the water. “Swimming!”

“Mm hmm. Just keep putting your faces all over the really germy glass. It’s worth it to look at polar bears.”

Ethan couldn’t contain a laugh. He settled a hand on Olivia’s hip. “You’re being painfully cute.”

She grinned. “I can’t help myself. Polar bears. If it weren’t for the chance it would eat our kids, I’d smuggle one out of here. I’d buy a snowblower for the backyard and let it swim in the pool.”

“I highly doubt we could keep it fed. The last time I was in PetSmart, they didn’t have polar bear food in stock.”

“How hilarious.” Olivia watched the bears for a few more moments before they left the exhibit.

Jonah’s stomach rumbled and he patted it. “Want food.”

“I could go for some lunch, too. Looking at a bunch of mostly sleeping animals has a weird way of giving me an appetite for overpriced food.”

“In that case, I guess the cafeteria is our next stop.” Ethan checked the zoo map and followed the directions to the restaurant, where Olivia found a table while Ethan ordered their food.

Once Jonah and Zoey were buckled into high chairs, Olivia cut their chicken into manageable bites and gave each of them a serving. “Eat up.”

Ever the enthusiastic eater, Jonah grabbed a handful of chicken and ate it. “Mm!”

“Yummy, huh?” Olivia sat next to Ethan and kissed his cheek before she started eating.

After lunch, they took the twins to the bathroom just in time to avoid a potty training catastrophe. Olivia took control of the stroller as they browsed the remaining exhibits.

The last enclosure was the panda exhibit. Jonah pointed inside and grinned with excitement.

“Pandas!”

Olivia ruffled his hair. “Yep. I think they’re my second favorite. They’re really cute and fluffy. And their cubs are always getting into trouble in every panda video I’ve ever seen, so that’s pretty amazing.”

They left the pandas and located the zoo’s gift shop. As they browsed the shop, they stopped at the stuffed animals.

“You can pick one out, but you have to stay in the stroller,” Ethan explained. ”I don’t trust either of you far enough to release you in a gift shop.”

“Is it bad that I’m not morally opposed to baby leashes?”

“Hmm. They seem more reasonable every day.”

Jonah pointed at a stuffed panda holding a cub. “That one!”

“Is that the one you want?” Olivia handed it to him. He hugged it tight and buried his face in it.

Zoey studied the selections until she saw a similar one with polar bears. She reached for it, wiggling her fingers when she couldn’t reach the shelf. Ethan took it and handed it to her.

They were on their way to the checkout when Olivia saw a mug with a polar bear on it. She grabbed it and added it to their purchases. “I would have regrets if I didn’t get this.”

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Ethan handed the cashier his card to pay for their items. The twins hugged their stuffed animals as they left the zoo. Olivia settled them in their car seats, and Ethan folded the stroller and placed it in the trunk.

Zoey and Jonah had removed their socks and shoes before the car was halfway across the parking lot. They entertained themselves with their new stuffed animals and made growling noises.

Halfway through the forty-five minute drive home, both kids fell asleep in their car seats.

The toddlers were still asleep when they reached their house, so Ethan and Olivia carried them inside and into the nursery. They tucked them into their beds with their new stuffed animals, then turned the light off.

“I guess a day of sitting in a stroller looking at sleepy animals exhausted them.”

“It would appear so,” Ethan agreed. They sat on the couch and he draped his arm around her when she leaned against his side.

A suggestive smile tugged at her lips. She touched her hand to his chest. “They’re asleep. And if I’m correct, they will be for… I’d say another twenty minutes.”

Ethan smirked. “What are you proposing?”

“Nothing too risque. It has been a long day for someone of your age.”

He feigned a scowl and tugged her into his lap. “I have plenty of stamina for ‘someone of my age’,” he whispered before pressing his lips to hers.

She stifled a laugh and deepened the kiss. After a long moment, she pulled back and touched her forehead to his. “Then prove it to me later. Right now I’m in dire need of cuddling.”

“Dire need, huh?”

“Yep.” Grinning, she rested her head on his shoulder. Ethan’s arms tightened around her waist, gently pinning her against himself. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tagging separately.

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc

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ironwoodprotectionsquad · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Visitor

After a string of several days or no sleeping or eating, Penny brings a friend by to visit James.

This was just supposed to be a super short little thing that got a little longer then expected but I hope you guys enjoy it anyways. Major Leaf being James’s best friend is now my new favorite thing sorry not sorry.

Ever since Beacon, days had begun to blur, one day bleeding into the next with James completely losing all concept on time. He couldn’t say when the last time he slept or ate was, only vaguely knowing it probably had been some time with the worried looks Clover and Winter occasionally gave him. Despite knowing he technically needed to eat and sleep to survive, Mettle could easily keep him going for days and he needed every second he could get. There was so much work to do with global communications down it fell on him to figure out all the answers on reconnecting all of Remnant together again.

Taking a shaky breath, James rested his face in his hands, tiredly rubbing his temples, willing his blurry vision to focus. He had too much work left to do to stop now. If he could just keep going for a few more hours….James jerked his head up when something warm draped itself around his shoulders, Penny saying,

“Sorry sir I thought you were asleep!”

“N-no it’s fine,” James said, glancing at his shoulder to see Penny had draped a blanket around his shoulder. Something nudged his arm and James glanced down to see Major Leaf on his desk, affectionately nudging his arm. “Hey, what are you doing here?” James asked, reaching down to pet his head.

“He told me he wanted to eat dinner with you!”

“He told you so?” James curiously, glancing down at the two bowls, one with Major Leafs usual dinner of various leaves and what he assumed was James’s steaming bowl of soup with a cup of tea.

“He did! I speak turtle!” Penny said.

“You speak turtle?” James asked.

“Yep!” Penny cheerfully said. “He misses seeing you, you haven’t been by your room in days to see him.”

“I….hadn’t realized it had been so long,” James mumbled, sheepishly glancing down at Major Leaf.

“Don’t worry, he isn’t mad,” Penny assured. “He’s just worried and wants to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Oh uh-” James awkwardly said, feeling guilty. “I’ve just been busy-” “That’s why I brought dinner!” Penny said. “So you two can eat together!”

“Thank you Penny,” James said, realizing he would not get out of eating dinner, now without upsetting Penny and Major Leaf.

“Of course sir! I thought tea and a nice warm bowl of soup would be nice for dinner tonight with the storm!”

“Storm?” James asked, turning towards the window to see snow swirling outside.

“You really have been busy sir,” Penny said.

“I have….” James slowly said, turning back to his food, picking up the tea cup and taking a long drink from it, the tea warming him to his core. “This is wonderful, thank you.” “Of course sir!”

“You don’t have to wait up for us,” James said as he took a spoonful of soup.

“I know sir,” Penny assured. “I just thought you might like some company!”

“Oh….” James said, booking at Penny in surprise for a moment before saying, “I suppose-” Earning a wide grin from Penny.

“May I ask you a question sir?” “Of course,” James said, watching as Major Leaf slowly walked over to his own meal.

“Major Leaf wouldn’t tell me, but how did you two meet?” Penny asked.

“I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t tell you,” James said with a chuckle, watching as Major Leaf happily started eating. “I’m afraid it’s not a very exciting story. But my grandparents adopted him and whenever I visited them I would always ask to play with Major Leaf and when they passed away….their last wish for him was for me to take care of him so I did.”

“So you’ve been best friends for a long time huh?” “As long as I can remember,” James admitted, reaching out to pet Major Leaf.

“It’s wonderful that you could remain friends for so long,” Penny said with a smile.

“I suppose I am lucky to have him,” James agreed.

“He worries about you, quite a bit sir,” Penny said.

“Oh?” James asked.

“He says you’ve been working too hard and that you really should be taking care of yourself,” Penny said.

“There's just too much work to be done and not enough hours in the day,” James softly mumbled, watching as Major Leaf nuzzled into his touch.

“He knows Sir,” Penny said. “But he also says that if you don’t take care of yourself and you get sick, how will you be able to lead?”

“If I fail because I missed or forgot something, then what kind of leader am I?” James countered.

“My dad always says that a good night's rest and a nice warm meal lead to a far more productive day and makes it so you're less likely to make a mistake.”

“Some of us unfortunately don’t have that luxury,” James sighed.

“Wouldn’t Winter or Clover help with anything you needed while you slept?” Penny asked, curiously tilting her head to the side.

“....I don’t want to burden them,” James sighed, dropping his hand away from Major Leaf.

“But if they are also your friends, wouldn’t they not want to see you take it all on yourself?” Penny softly asked, Major Leaf abandoning his meal entirely to nuzzle his head once more against James’s arm.

“It just doesn’t seem fair to put it on them….” James tiredly sighed, petting Major Leaf once more.

“It doesn’t seem fair that you have to do it all on your own either,” Penny said.

“I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to take on both positions,” James mumbled. “I’ve made my bed.”

“I see,” Penny said, a deep frown on her face as James awkwardly took another spoonful of soup, a heavy silence hanging in the air as James ate, groggily trying to sort through his thoughts, but finding his mind was stalling out to a complete blank on him. Maybe it was the warm soup and tea that was making him so tired. Maybe it was a mistake agreeing to eat. Or maybe it was exhaustion catching up to him.He honestly didn’t know.

“It’s good to see you both eating at least.” Penny said when James had finished his own bowl.

“Both?” James curiously asked.

“Major Leaf has been so worried he hasn’t been eating either,” Penny explained, guilt once again stabbing at his chest. He didn’t give a damn about his own health but Major Leaf? He promised he would care for him and him refusing to eat meant James was failing. “I think eating with you helped a lot!” “I’m glad,” James softly said, watching as Major Leaf finished his own food before going back to James.

“Would you like me to take him back to your room sir?” Penny asked.

“No, no,” James said. “I think...it might be best for me to retire for a few hours at least.” This wasn’t a break, this was him just spending some quality time with his neglected pet. He wasn’t a monster after all and he owed that time to him.

“Of course sir!” Penny said, barely able to contain her grin as she gathered up the dishes.

“You don’t have to do that Penny,” James said.

“I don’t, but I want to!” Penny assured. “Isn’t that what friends do for each other? They do things that aren’t fun but help out the person they care about.”

“I-” James began swallowing thickly at her words, a whirlwind of emotions swelling in his chest. “I suppose so, yes.”

“I would like to be your friend sir.” Penny said.

“I uh- I’d like that to,” James softly said, It was silly, he couldn’t be friends with his subordinates but seeing the way Penny’s face lit up at his words, he found he couldn’t really regret saying them. Penny had been through so much in her short time alive… who was he to deny her something so trivial as friendship.

“Goodnight sir,” Penny said, flashing him a warm smile before walking out of his office, leaving James alone with Major Leaf.

“Well, come on you,” James softly said, scooping up Major Leaf in his arms. “Have you been misbehaving and not sleeping as well?” He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case from what Penny said “Well come on then, we both could use a short nap.” He wasn’t doing it for himself, this was just for Major Leaf. He would not be a poor pet owner for him. Just as James reached the door to his office, it whooshed open to reveal Winter who let out a small gasp of surprise,

“Apologies Sir. I didn’t realize you had a meeting.” “No meeting,” James assured as Winter’s gaze fell to Major Leaf resting in his arms.

“Penny informed me Major Leaf has not been taking care of himself so I thought I would stay with him in my room for a bit just to make sure he’s okay.”

“Of course sir,” Winter said.

“Was there something you needed?” James asked.

“Nothing of any importance sir,” Winter assured.

“You can reach me if you need anything,” James assured.

“Of course sir,” Winter assured. “Good night.” “Good night Winter,” James said, stepping around Winter, nodding at Clover as he walked passed. This was just for Major Leaf. He would be right back to work after he made sure he was well taken care of.

He would never find out he nearly slept for twenty four hours, with Major Leaf acting as bodyguard much like when they were children. Him being so exhausted he wouldn’t notice the missing day, nor would anyone dare point it out for fear of the inevitable panic it would ensue, everyone too grateful for whatever Penny had said that convinced James to pay at least a little more attention to his health, even if it was only for Major Leaf’s sake.

#James Ironwood #penny polendina #Major Leaf #Major Leaf AU #Pro James Ironwood #Ironwood Protection Squad #Major Leaf and Penny are the funding members #Pro Ironwood #General ironwood #General Dadmiral

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winchest09 · 4 years

Text

Life for Rent - Chapter Twenty Seven

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Escort!Reader

Universe: AU

Summary: Y/N can be anyone for a price. Her life is ruled by contracts, men and money. It’s all she knows; countless identities, seedy clients, and strict regulations. She has to obey the rules, but her past is full of secrets and her future is resting in the wrong hands. But will her next client be the same as the rest?

Rating: 18+ W/C: 5216

Warnings: (spoilers) Angst, violence, threats, death threats, talks of death, imprisonment, suicidal thoughts, violent outbreak, swearing, blackmail, deceit, double crossing, guns, trafficking.

PLEASE HEED THESE. IF ANY OF THEM ARE TRIGGERS, DO NOT READ.

A/N: So...three chapters left after this one...are you ready? ;)

Special thanks to this absolute babe @katehuntington <3 My worldie, my bestie, my beta whose reaction to this always has me beaming, without her, i’d go insane. She’s my cheerleader <3

I hope you guys enjoy this add! Thanks everyone for sticking with me and this fic <3

Love you all.

xox

– I absolutely adore your reactions to this, so please if you do read, reblog, comment or send me an ask and let me know how you feel! It means the world to me.

Life for Rent Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

——————————————–

<– Chapter Twenty Six

——————————————–

Do it.

Those words echoed around Dean’s head as he stared down at the woman who had managed to fool him entirely. Not again, not her, not Y/N. After everything they had been through, after what he had done for her; what he felt for her. He didn’t understand how she could do this to him. He’d given her everything, he’d allowed her to be a part of his family and yet here she was, on her knees waiting for him to end it all. Never in his life had he come across someone that was so accepting of death. She wasn’t pleading her case or begging to be spared. Neither was she making excuses for what she had done.

His hand shook as he felt the weight of her forehead pressed against the muzzle of his gun. Her eyes closed as she waited for him to pull the trigger. Dean had always been so collected in these situations, taking the shot without hesitation, but staring down at the woman who had invaded his heart, he lost that impulse. Turmoil rolled through his mind as he fought with his instinct, with the way he had been raised. A traitor’s life is ended. No ifs, no buts, no maybes.

Dean didn’t move to swipe at the tears of regret that stained his cheeks, he didn’t blink away the pain that was captured in his green orbs; he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the escort who had threatened his entire family. She had pulled the wool over his eyes, had been the wolf in sheep's clothing this entire time. He’d let her into his home, into his bed; he’d allowed her to fill his head with an endless stream of unachievable dreams through her sweet words. Dean thought she was different, that he could finally break down the wall around his heart and allow himself to be happy. He was a fool.

There was no excusing what she had done, not now his family was in danger, their lives threatened. She was a traitor, and traitors needed to be put down. His lips curled in a slight snarl as his jaw clenched, tears of frustration coming together at the end of his chin. His thumb steadily made its way to the hammer of the gun, pulling it slowly back, hearing the chilling click of the readed shot. The pad of his forefinger twitched over the trigger, the tip pressing harder against the metal ring as he made his decision.

No ifs, no buts, no maybes.

With a loud echo, his shot rang out. The noise ringing through his ears as fresh tears caraded down his cheeks, his weapon hot in his hand. He didn’t make a sound, his eyes now hazy with unshed sadness as a vice gripped at his heart. He really wished it hadn’t come to this, maybe it had just proved to him that he wasn’t allowed to give himself to anyone, that he would be better off on his own. With a short sniff, he moved to tuck the gun into the waistband of his jeans. The sight in front of him was getting too much for him to bear, he needed to get out, he had more important matters to attend too.

The broken Winchester marched out of his room, slamming the door shut behind him before he turned to lock it with his key. Shutting out his darkness, his shame and the woman who had been the cause of it all. He frustratedly slammed his fist against the wood, his angered roar tearing from his throat before he pushed himself to storm down the hall, trying somehow to formulate a plan in his mind to protect the people he cares for most.

Hurriedly pulling his phone from his pocket, Dean’s shaking thumb quickly dialled Sam’s number as he put his cell to his ear. He paced down the hall, one hand combing through his hair as time seemed to slow.

“Pick up, dammit,” Dean growled down the line, his heart pounding in his chest as the dial tone echoed in his ear. Each ring longer than the last. “Pick the fuck up, Sammy.”

“Dean?”

The relief that flooded his being at the sound of his brother’s voice felt like ice on fire.

“Turn around, get home. Now!” he barked, rushing down the stairs towards the foyer, his eyes scanning every doorway in case of a possible ambush.

“What’s happened?”

“Just do it, Sam,” Dean snapped, “It’s a trap.” As soon as the words left his lips he felt the anger surge through his veins.

The older Winchester made his way to the windows next to the front door, gingerly using his fingers to peel back the voils in the windows, peering to see if anyone was coming for him.

“We know.” Those two words that Sam uttered made Dean frown, his gaze breaking away from the outside, “Charlie figured out it was a ruse a few moments ago, we’re setting up a diversion so they don’t follow us home.”

“Good,” a silent sigh of relief left him, his eyes squeezing shut briefly as he was thankful for his brother's safety. Dean strode into the living room, his mind trying to formulate any kind of strategy to keep his family safe from harm. “Watch your backs, go the long way home, keep your hand on your gun at all times.”

“What’s going on?”

Dean bit his bottom lip, his tongue running over his teeth as he resisted the urge to spill everything there and then. “Just get back in one piece,” he instructed, “both of you.”

Immediately ending the call, his next thoughts were on Benny and Cas, the two of the best soldiers he had in this raging war of dominating gangs. With his phone back to his ear, he listened to the agonisingly slow dial tone as he walked around to the pool table, his fingers running slowly along the wooden frame.

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, another long ring echoing in his ears. “Come fuckin’ on,” he growled, his eyes pinched closed as he tapped his digits against the wood. “Dammit Benny.”

He couldn’t prevent the worry that ate away at his stomach, the way his heart thumped harder in his chest and the panic that tightened his torso. Dean needed to keep a rational head, his friend may have not heard his phone plus there was always Cas. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he dialled another number and waited impatiently for him to answer.

“Answer the phone, answer the phone,” he chanted, his fist curling into a tight ball tighter at the sound of each ring.

I’m sorry, this caller is unavailable. Please leave your message after the tone.

Before he could react, his phone pinged with the sound of an incoming message, one that his thumb was quick to open when he saw it was from Benny. Even though he thought he was prepared for whatever was in the message, he still felt like he had been punched in the gut when he opened the text. There, tied to two chairs, blindfolded and gagged were his men, his best friends. Their faces were beaten and bloody, their shirts stained with crimson.

“NO!” Dean screamed, throwing his phone to the floor in a blast of rage. He was too late, Nick and Alistair had gotten to his family and he didn’t know how long he had until they were dead.

He couldn’t contain his anger as his torment roared from his chest, his hands breaking and destroying everything in their reach. Picture frames; shelves were ripped from the walls, Dean was on a destructive warpath and nothing was safe. He surrounded himself in glass, in broken porcelain and tainted memories, the noises that left his lips were nothing short of animalistic. He didn’t stop to take a breath, he didn’t falter as he tipped over a bookcase and sent many works of fiction scattering across the floor. He spotted the rows of pool cues resting against the wall, and one by one tore them from their fixtures and beat them against the table, splinters of wood flying through the air. He broke every single one of them, leaving his bloody hands holding nothing but the broken remains of his rampage. His eyes burned embers as his face wore a snarl, his nose flared as he looked for the next perfect thing to destroy. Because that was all he was good for.

“What the hell happened here?!” Sam’s voice cut through the red mist that had descended over him, his head snapping over to where his sibling and Charlie were standing, visibly confused.

With his chest heaving, Dean dropped the broken pieces of wood to the floor as he walked over to where the two were standing, pulling his little brother into a crushing hug. He could feel Sam hesitate for a moment before he returned the embrace, the action calming his enraged spirit, relief flooding the fire. Thank god he was safe.

After a few drawn out seconds, he pulled back, clapping the shoulder of the taller Winchester before he headed towards the one thing he didn’t destroy, his alcohol. He needed the burn of whiskey in his throat for the news he was about to tell them, the liquor in his system to numb the sting of the past hour.

Dean’s bedroom was still. The dust had settled on the broken scene; on the shattered glass, the split wood and the broken body that was still rooted to the spot. There was not a sound to be heard, the screams were long gone and so were the uneven sobs from the woman who had torn his world down around him.

It was then that Y/N heaved in a shaky breath, her eyes still clenched tightly shut as she hadn’t dared to open them. She had never expected to still be kneeling in this spot with air in her lungs and a beat to her heart, yet here she was. Her ears ringing with the sound of the gunshot, her body tense with fear as she didn’t know whether she should be grateful that she was still alive, or dreadful because of it. When she had heard Dean pull back the hammer of the gun, she was at peace. She accepted that this was the end of her story, but he chose not to finish it. He chose to aim the gun and shoot it in another direction, leaving her in dismay.

Y/N didn’t understand his actions. She deserved the bullet that Dean was going to shoot into her head. As far as the escort was concerned, she shouldn’t be here right now, she should be long gone and away from this world, away from the torment and this horrendous life. She hadn’t expected him to keep her alive and she would never forget the look he gave her when she fed him the truth. The way his eyes grew cold upon the realisation that she had betrayed him; it solidified her view that there was no coming back from this. Her thoughts were chasing their metaphorical tail as she went around in circles. There was nowhere to run, no way to forget what she had done.

Her body was still shaking as she gained the courage to open her eyes, bracing herself to cast her gaze over the damage she had caused. The room was a mess, his belongings destroyed and it was all because of her. Her lips trembled as a warm tear dropped onto her pale cheek. It was then that she looked upon his bedroom door, the barrier she heard him lock with a faint click as she was dazed on her knees. Y/N knew there was no point in trying to escape, she wouldn’t get very far even if she tried. Dean would most certainly see her leaving his manor and if on the slightest chance she did get away, The Master would find her.

The Master.

She couldn’t leave this house, she didn’t want to subject herself to the hours of torment she was going to face in isolation. The humiliation, the beatings, the assault. Her body was fractured enough as it was, her wings had been snapped and her spirit had been broken long before Dean had found the light in her again. But like a long burning candle, her flame had burned out, she simply had nothing left to give.

With quaking legs she stood, her cheeks still warm from the overflowing shame she felt, as she turned around in the spot she was standing. On the floor she spotted Dean’s clothes from which he had changed out of, the clothes in which he was teaching her how to defend herself from the horrors of the world. If only he had known then, he wouldn’t have wasted his time or energy on her. Taking a sharp breath, the defeated woman took an unbalanced step towards the mobster’s bed, her forehead slightly creasing as her mind plagued her with a question. Where did the bullet go?

She knew it didn’t matter, it was just a piece of metal to anybody else, but to her it meant something, to her that was the thing that was meant to end her life. So, with curious eyes and a determined head, she calculated the shot. Casting her vision over the room as she scanned every possible place it could be. It was then that she saw it, the small, circular entrance that had been created on the side of Dean’s luxury mattress.

Y/N took a deep breath, her feet taking her the small distance needed to clamber onto his bed, eyes fixated on the hole that was meant to be in her. With slim fingers and a bit of patience, she located the small metal casing and pulled it out. Bringing it up to her eye level, she rolled it between her forefinger and thumb. She could just throw it to one side and be done with it yet, instead, she allowed it to fall into her palm as she curled her hand around it, squeezing tightly. It was a stark reminder of what her life had led too.

As the day bled into nightfall, Y/N was going under fast when she was desperate for somebody to hear her. But she came to realise that there was no one left to change the course of action. She didn’t mean for any of this to happen, she didn’t want to break his trust or his heart, she was just so terrified of any consequences. For a month, the escort had been living a life that she had longed for since she was six years old, a life without rules or chains, a life where she was free to breathe. Dean eased her suffering, yet he could only mask her agony for so long.

Flickers of faint moonlight caught her attention, her face slightly angling towards the broken glass on the floor next to the bed. Y/N almost felt as though they were calling to her, one shattered object to another. She gracefully bent down, her fingers tracing the shards that were scattered amongst photo frames. It was then she saw Dean’s warm smile staring up at her, his eyes crinkled and light as he stood next to his family. Her hand hovered above it, the pads of her fingertips gently caressing his face on the picture. He had already given her so much more than she could have dreamed and for that she would be ever thankful. Now, it was about time she took matters into her own hands. If he couldn’t stop the horror that she had been living, then she would.

It was bound to end in blood and tears.

“Sammy, sit down.” Deans instruction was calm, one finger lifting off the glass of his whiskey filled tumbler to point at the couch. “You gonna join him, Charlie?”

“I think I should leave you guys to it,” the redhead mumbled, hooking her laptop bag over her shoulder before turning to move out of the room. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need me.”

“I need you to look into The Hemlock, Alistair and Nick. I need everything that you can find. Surveillance, movements, birthdays, I don’t give a fuck. I want it all.” Dean didn’t bark his orders but the authority in his tone made Charlie instantly nod in submission.

“I’ll get right on it.”

Sam scoffed as he watched their technical right hand walk away, his head shaking causing his brunette locks to frame his face. He was visibly perplexed by his brother’s sudden change in demeanour.

“What the hell is going on, Dean?” he questioned, one large hand gesturing to the rest of the room. “You’ve snapped every single pool cue we own, the room is a complete mess and where the hell is Y/N?!”

His voice rose at the end of his burning question, one that made the older Winchester’s burning eyes snap to his. With a shake of his head, the defeated mobster took down the rest of his liquor in one hit, hissing as it stung his throat.

“Benny and Cas have been captured and Y/N... She’s locked away,” was his simple response as he turned to grab for the whiskey bottle, the remainder of the alcohol calling to him.

“How?!” Sam's brow knitted together. “And what the fuck do you mean ‘locked away’?!”

The news Dean was about to share felt like a hard pill to swallow. He still couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want to, but it was the bitter truth. “She betrayed us, Sammy. betrayed me...that’s how.”

He scoffed harshly as he brought the liquor with him, sitting opposite his little brother on the couch. “Lied to our faces, just like fucking Cassie.”

Sam watched as Dean refilled his glass before placing the bottle on the still intact table, the gears turning in his head as he tried to understand. “You’re not making any sense. Wh--”

“- You were right, okay?!” the mobster snapped, rubbing at his forehead frustratingly with his palm. “I shouldn’t have hired her, I should have never stepped foot in that bastard’s place.” With a deep breath, he took a moment to calm the rage that was flowing through his veins like molten lava. “Nick, Y/N... They have been working together to bring us to our knees.”

“What?” Sam urged, not quite believing what he was hearing. She was part of The Hemlock, how could she be working for the enemy?

“That’s right, she told me, Sam,” Dean disclosed, a disapproving tone laced in his words. “Judging from what she said, I can only assume that the plan for today was meant to be our undoing.”

It was that statement that caught the younger Winchester’s attention, “What did she say?”

“What does it matter? Benny and Cas are in danger, Sam. That’s our priority right now,” the mobster stressed, his voice gruff with emotion.

“We have other men, we’ll send them ahead to scope the place out but we don’t even know what we’re walking into right now. We’ve got to be smart about this.”

Dean knew his sibling was right, yet the feeling of losing his blood brothers because of one stupid mistake was more than he could bare. “I can’t lose more family, Sammy. I just can’t.”

“And we won’t, not if we play this smart,” his little brother advised, sincerity lacing his tone. “Now I need to know what Y/N said. Her exact words.”

“I helped plan it,” Dean fired back, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue against his teeth. “That it wasn’t just her but The Master and Nick.”

“Wait,” Sam held up his hand, “The Master?”

Dean threw his head back against the couch and sighed deeply, his forefinger and thumb pinching across his eyes and nose. He still felt like his head was swimming with information, that he couldn’t focus on one particular thing. When he woke up that morning, he was happy and was ready to take on the world. Now he was back to square one, on the break of losing the family who he loves yet again by his own stupid actions.

“Alistair,” Dean sighed, his focus on the ceiling. “That’s the name his girls call him.”

“That’s seriously messed up.” Sam grimaced, shaking his head as he stared at his brother.

“So he’s into pet names,” Dean shrugged while he lifted his head off the couch with annoyance. “You’re missing the entire point of this.”

Sam just huffed, his tongue poking in his cheek as he looked over at his older brother. It didn’t take him long to look at the bigger picture here. Unlike the man in front of him, he could see the situation clearly as he wasn’t being driven by his raw emotion like Dean was. There was a lot more to this situation, it went a lot deeper than just Y/N double crossing them. Sam had suspicions about her behavior since he had spoken to her after playing pool, and especially after the previous night when a phone call had interrupted them, but his doubtful thoughts were never about her dedication to her job and his family, it was about her past and what she had been experiencing.

“I don’t think I am, Dean,” Sam announced, lacing his fingers together in front of him as he rested his arms against his knees.

“Y/N betrayed us all.” Dean’s face turned into one of exasperation, his mind not fathoming how he couldn’t understand exactly what the escort had done to them.

“How?” Sam questioned, his tone still steady and reasonable. “By saving us?”

“She sent you to your death, Sam!” the mobster snapped, his deep voice bellowing off of the walls as he stood from his seat brashly, his right hand throwing his glass against the wall. His green eyes darkened, his lips twitching as he held back a snarl. “I was the one that pulled you out of there!”

“Because she told you too,” came the younger Winchester’s reply, not even flinching at Dean’s actions, which he had gotten used to by now. He raised his eyebrows as he watched the pacing man in front of him, sucking in a deep breath as he ran a hand through his long hair. “Look, calm down for a minute and let’s talk this out, yeah?”

“Why are you on her side in this?!” Dean fumed, his hands running through his hair as he continued to pace the broken mess of the room.

“Dean, I’m not. Believe me, if I’m wrong in all this, I’ll be handing you a loaded gun,” Sam assured, his dark eyes that were trained on his big brother full of conviction and promise.

It was then that the frustrated man stopped in his tracks, angling his body to look down at the voice of reason. “You wanted me to murder Cassie the first chance I got, hell you still do. So what’s changed?”

“She’s not Cassie,” Sam’s reply was almost instant and it basically winded the head of the family, the darkness in his gaze fading as he collapsed back onto the couch. “Dean, Cassie did what she did maliciously, off her own back. Y/N’s held her hands up and told you before it got too far,” he began to explain, his hand rubbing at his jaw. “Look, when I brought Azazel back here, and I kept Y/N company whilst you did your thing, she opened up to me slightly. I didn’t like what I had to hear.”

At that, Dean frowned, his anger subsiding slightly to make way for the uneasiness in his stomach to break through. “Which was?”

He watched his little brother, how he rubbed his hands together before he spoke. It did nothing to settle the anxious feeling that was resonating in his chest.

“She said that you were the first man that had treated her like a person and not an asset,” Sam began to explain, his voice soft and compassionate as he judged for a reaction. “She tried to cover up her words but I know how to read body language, Dean. She was uncomfortable, she was lying to me. Even when I challenged her about it, she couldn’t tell me the truth, so what does that tell you?”

“That she’s a liar,” the mobster seethed, pulling in his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Or that she’s trapped in a corner with nowhere to run,” Sam implored, causing the older to halt his actions, the words resonating through him.

His anger faded, the red fog clearing slightly, causing him to think carefully over his brother’s comments. Maybe he was right; all the evidence that he had gathered so far had already pointed to a not so normal life. So could it be that she was forced into this situation? That she was truly trapped, or was that an easy excuse to make?

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean sighed, shaking his head slightly as he pursed his lips. “But you don’t know everything.”

“What do you mean?” Sam enquired.

“Charlie found some information. I asked her to look into Y/N and report back to me,” the mobster admitted, rubbing at his chin as he edged closer to the edge of his seat. “Her records were dodgy, Sam. There was nothing past the age of six. It was like her life had ended there. I was convinced she had taken on someone else’s life as an alias.”

“But that’s not true?” His little brother's question made Dean shake his head slightly, his lips pursing.

“No. She told me a bit about her past, she confided in me and the woman I saw was so damn vulnerable. But Hell, that could have been an act too right?” A scoff past his pink lips as he reached for the bottle of whiskey that was on the table in front of him. “I don’t know, Sammy. Something isn’t sitting right. The woman I returned to The Hemlock yesterday morning was not the same one I got back. Something changed in her while she was there and then I noticed a tattoo on her neck.”

“A tattoo?”

Dean nodded, walking over to where he’d thrown his phone earlier. “I don’t just think it’s just any kind of ink, Sam,” he doubted, picking the device off the floor and hoping it still worked. A slight wave of relief washed over him when he noticed that all his cell had suffered was a partially cracked screen.

He pulled up the picture that he took, zooming in slightly on the detail before handing it over to the younger Winchester. “I just need to work out the numbers.”

Sam took a moment to study the photograph, the image fanning the flames of his suspicions with a heavy heart. “That’s because it isn’t normal ink, Dean,” he started, swallowing hard as his gaze went back to the awaiting green orbs. “I think she’s been a victim of trafficking.”

Dean’s face changed, his expression slack as his eyebrows twitched. “What?”

“It makes sense, right? The way she acts, the fake personas, the change of personality, the way her walls fell down around you when you took her to do perfectly normal things.”

Did his brother have a point? The mobster took another long gulp from the glass bottle in his hands, his mind racing as he tried to pinpoint his thoughts. Surely he would have noticed it, he’s a mob boss for fuck’s sake, surely he would have seen something. How could he not know? But then even if he did, would it change how he felt about her now? Y/N had still deceived him, lulled him into a false sense of security before aiding the capture of two of his men. If Sam had been caught too...

“I still can’t trust her. Not now, not after this,” Dean admitted, the morbid thoughts of losing his family taunting him.

“She’s just been a pawn in this war, Dean,” Sam tried to reason, sliding his phone back over the table. “And the fact that you’ve left her alive in your bedroom speaks volumes for itself. You need to talk to her.”

The older Winchester huffed a breath before he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “And what is that going to solve, huh?”

“I know what she means to you, and she means more to you now than Cassie ever did,” Sam spoke truthfully, his eyes full of empathy as he stared at the stubborn man across from him. “You need to speak with her, maybe now she’s in a position to tell you the full truth.”

“But Benny and Cas--”

“- I’ll deal with that. You need to do this, Dean. You need answers.”

There was a brief moment of silence between the pair, neither of them breaking their gaze on the other, a psychological standoff.

“Fine,” Dean relented, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath, pushing himself back off of the coach. His legs felt heavy as he made his way towards the staircase, his palms sweating, his throat dry, even though he tried to drown his thirst with liquor. He hadn’t got the time he needed to process the series of events that turned his world upside down, Benny and Cas were in danger, the woman who had captured his soul laid on his bedroom floor. A possible victim of trafficking. Could she have really been forced into this? Why couldn’t she have just told him the truth? Did she not trust him?

Making his way along the long corridor towards his room, he brought the bottle of whiskey back to his lips, his eyes slightly glassy as he thought about how he had left her. Broken, defeated, at his complete mercy on the floor. She was so accepting of punishment, so willing to welcome any harm that was coming her way. Casting his mind back to the first time he truly spent time with her, he remembered her not knowing how to shop. That memory bled into the one where he told her she could keep the dress he had made for her; the look of childish glee when she tried pizza for the first time, the eyes full of wonder when she tasted chocolate covered strawberries. It was all flashing in front of him like it was a damn show. The need to do well continuously, to be the best of the best. The fear in her eyes when she thought she’d failed him. It all made sense now.

With a partially shaking hand, he pulled the key to his room from his jeans pocket, the metal shaking in the lock as he slowly turned it to open. The click echoed through his soul, causing him to inhale deeply as he readied himself to face Y/N once again. With a forceful push, he opened his door, words spilling from his lips before an unexpected sight greeted him.

“You need to explain yourself.”

——————————————– Chapter Twenty Eight --> ——————————————– A/N: *screams* Guys...three more chapters...that’s it! *sobs into a pillow* We’re so close to the end of this story. I hope you’re enjoying these last few stops.

I love you guys so much for reading this…so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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