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liberty-barnes · 4 years

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Just Breathe

Tom Holland x Female!Osterfield!Bisexual!Reader

Summary: Childbirth waits for no one, not even the Oscars.

Warnings: fluuuuuff, pregnant reader, mentions of childbirth, good press articles, BISEXUAL READER WOOOHOOO

Word Count: 1.5k words

Estimated Reading Time: 6 minutes

A/N: heeeeey look @peterspideyy @parkersbliss that crazy idea i ranted to you about like six months ago finally got done! i can’t believe i did it... this feels too good to be true, is the world gonna end or something?

Masterlist

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Me neither."

"Please, just stay here."

You looked up to your brother and husband, frowning as you smoothed your hand over the soft black fabric of your gown.

"I am not missing the Oscars, Tom. I've still got two weeks until I'm due, it'll be fine."

You sat down on the bed and looked dejectedly at your shoes, then proceeded to throw puppy dog eyes your brother's way until Harrison had no choice but to kneel and help you put on your comfortable trainers. There's no way you're putting on your heels at 37 weeks of pregnancy.

"But what if Baby decides to come sooner? You could go into labour at any moment!"

You rolled your eyes and only raised your arms so they could help you out of bed.

"You guys are being over-dramatic. Nothing's gonna happen. We're just going to the Oscars, we'll have a good time, and hopefully, I'll leave with a little statue under my arm."

With that, you waddled out of your hotel room, ready to get into the limo.

---

"(Y/n)! It's so good to see you! You look radiant as always!"

You smiled at Kaitlyn, an interviewer you knew and trusted and rubbed your belly comfortingly.

"Thank you, I feel like a whale, but Baby'll be here soon so it's worth it."

She smiled and asked you a bunch of questions about your movie and how you were feeling about being nominated for Best Actress.

"But anyway, how far along are you now?"

"I'm a little over 37 weeks, they should be coming soon. Tom and Haz were actually really apprehensive about me coming here since I'm so close to my due date."

She smiled and looked over at the two men, obviously on edge.

"Well, I wish you all the best and I sincerely hope you win."

You hugged her goodbye and posed for a few more pictures before being led inside by your husband.

---

"And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for..."

Everyone watched with bated breath as Brie Larson, last year's winner, got ready to announce who would take home the trophy.

"This year's winner, and taking home the Oscar for best actress in a leading role..."

Tom took your hand and you squeezed it tight, ready to applaud one of the other amazing actresses on their win.

"(Y/n) Holland, for her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin!"

You felt like your heart was gonna beat out of your chest, run to that stage, kiss Brie, then promptly burst to flames out of sheer, unadulterated enthusiasm. Tom was hugging you and whispering how much you deserved it while your brother gently guided you to the podium. None of them would ever allow you to go up there on your own. Always one in front of you in case you trip forward and one behind you to catch you if you fall back.

Overprotective much?

As soon as you reached Brie, you hugged her tight (or as tight as you could with a human baby house separating you), taking the award while the two boys hugged her too.

"Holy Louis Tomlinson in a crop top."

The audience laughed, most of them already familiar with your strange One Direction inspired expressions.

"Wow, I didn't actually think I was gonna win this, everyone had such amazing performances. I-It's an honour, really. Two Sides of the Same Coin was a project very near and dear to my heart, so I'd like to thank the amazing Drew Barrymore, who wrote and directed the movie."

The room erupted in cheers and the woman smiled at you from her place on the front row.

"Bisexual representation is something we don't get very often, and when we do, it's always misjudged. So thank you for showing the world what bisexuality really is, and for giving me a chance to live out my dreams of kissing lots of people. This idiot tied me down too soon."

You pointed behind you at Tom, hearing his appalled squeak along with Harrison's guffaw of a laugh.

In other news, the baby was starting to inconvenience you slightly. Baby had been going crazy since last night (not that you'd tell the boys) and the Braxton-Hicks were killing you, but it only got worse now.

"I'd also like to thank my amazing costars, Zendaya, Bella Thorne, and Owen Patrick Joyner, it was awesome to make out with you all..."

The crowd laughed while you felt something trickle down your legs.

Oh.

OH.

You'll never live this down, that's for sure.

"Uh, before I finish can one of you idiots call the car and get them to come to the exit please and thank you? Now as I was saying-"

"Wait, why?"

You turned to your brother and smiled innocently.

"Oh, my water just broke."

The crowd cheered.

Tom screamed.

Harrison fell to the floor, unconscious.

You sighed.

"New plan, can anyone try to wake my brother while my hus-"

You looked at Tom, frantically doing small back and forths between you and his best friend, unsure of what to do.

"-While someone else calls the car because both of them are apparently useless."

"We need to get you to the hospital!"

His terrified scream could be heard all through the room, even with no mic.

"What? No! I need to finish my acceptance speech, then go back to the hotel to shower and maybe take a little nap and then go to the hospital. My water just broke, Thomas, we have time, calm your tits."

You turned back fully to the mic, facing the hysteric faces of the crowd, very entertained by the exchange.

"Now as I was saying, I want to thank the amazing team that worked on this movie, you're all amazing and it was such a good experience. I'd also like to thank my family for always being there for me and supporting me and Haz in our acting careers. Thank you to my brother, even if he's unconscious right now, he'll just watch it on Youtube later, for literally forcing me to go to the audition. And lastly, I'd like to thank my wonderful husband, who hopefully hasn't passed out yet, for always supporting me and being my biggest rock through everything. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff."

---

An Oscar in hand and another... down her legs?

(Y/n) Holland sure gave the Oscars something to be entertained by on this last Saturday. The wife of fellow actor Tom Holland looked radiant in her custom-made Valentino dress, looking ready for a night of fun.

(Y/n) was nominated for this year's Best Actress in a Leading Role award, alongside Meryl Streep, Margot Robbie, Cate Blanchett, and Tessa Thompson, but the Oscar went to her from her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin. But it was during her acceptance speech that things got... slippery.

At 37 weeks of pregnancy, the Holland baby was ready to come at any minute, but apparently, theatrics run in the family. The actress was in the middle of her speech when she felt her water break, pausing in her talking to request a car be called.

You'd think her husband, Tom, and brother Harrison Osterfield, overprotective as they are, would be fully prepared! Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for our entertainment, they were not. Harrison went unconscious after hearing the news, dropping to the floor and earning himself a minor concussion, much to his sister's amusement

[image1-harrison-ice-pack.png]

@ynholland: "Don't worry, when you go into labour, I'll be with you every step of the way." Said Harrison Osterfield, then proceeded to pass out, get a minor concussion, and miss the whole delivery.😂 Good job, little bro👍

And just when you thought she couldn't get any better, she finishes her acceptance speech with: "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff." We have no choice but to stan this iconic queen!

But for the news you've all been waiting for, Oscar Robert Holland (yes, the middle name is a homage to Robert Downey Jr. himself, we're not crying, you are!) was born just twelve hours later. Tom let know through a beautiful Instagram picture that he is in fact "perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already".

[image2-tom-and-oscar.png]

@tomholland2013: I present to you, my best creation to this date: Oscar Robert Holland. Thank you all for your prayers and kind messages, our boy is perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already❤️

But of course, Uncle Haz wouldn't stay behind.

[image3-haz-and-oscar.png]

@hazosterfield: Since I know you've all been worried sick and desperate to know how the baby is... I'm doing just fine, it's just a minor concussion :) Oh and my godson's great too.

And just to prove that the Osterfields are indeed the royal family of comedy, we leave with this wonderful picture posted to the happy mum's very own Instagram.

[image4-yn-and-oscars.png]

@ynholland: Guess I was so good they gave two Oscars instead of one ;)

-Written by Kaitlyn Storm

so anyway, Two Sides of the Same Coin is a movie idea i got a while ago and should maybe try to write one of these days but oh well or something. anyway, i’m not gonna rant about it here cause it’d be too long but i hope you enjoyed this and don’t forget to like/comment/reblog if you feel like it!

-Love, Miah

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

PERMA TAG

@adriannajackson123 @theamazingtomholland @inlovewithmobtom @andycanbeemotional @officiallyunofficialperson @lost-in-the-stars03 @jeezkiddo @a-singleboat @wunder-13 @highlydisfunctional1 @ellyseveronica @inthecornerchair @harishaanne @anjalika03 @lozzypoz321 @mendes-marvel @sovereignparker @bubbles-the-powerpuffgurl

MARVEL ACTORS

@sarcasticallywitty15 @agentnataliahofferson @onelovesr @agentnataliahofferson @parkerpetertingle @juliebean247 @frustratingpaperclip @tacobacoyeet

HOLLAND & CO.

@sarcasticallywitty15 @agentnataliahofferson @onelovesr @agentnataliahofferson @zeusmyster @parkerpetertingle @juliebean247 @joyleenl @quaksonhehe @clara-licht @frustratingpaperclip @tutuabby28 @tacobacoyeet

LGBTQ+

@quaksonhehe

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homoose · 4 years

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Through the Smoke

Request: could you do spencer x bau reader where they aren't dating yet but they both feel for each other? where both spencer and reader are very closed off people and the whole team knows that. but after one rough case on the flight back, they're both just exhausted mentally and physically and seek comfort in each other. then spend the night at reader's apartment and kiss for the first time there. sorry if this is specific but thank you (:

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst with a happy ending

Warnings/Includes: typical CM stuff, cults, kidnapping, violence, etc.

Word count: 8.1k

Music recs: Through the Fire by Jake Etheridge and Margot Todd; scared by Jeremy Zucker

a/n: anon, I have no idea if this is what you were looking for, but this is where it went. It’s a generous rewrite of 300, substituting the reader for Garcia. Also this blog operates with the understanding that the season 14 jeid arc does not exist lmao. JJ is firmly in the “I love you as a brother” camp and I will not be taking questions at this time. Also, this is a reminder that my requests are open! send me some fresh ideas, head cannons, rambles, whatever!

———

“Metro PD and the Bureau have been made aware of the Believers and possible activity following their leader’s arrest,” Prentiss confirmed, looking out over the team mingling in the bullpen. “But taking Theo at his word—”

“We only arrested three. There’s probably more out there, but if they follow cult dynamics, they’ll break down on their own without the messiah,” Matt finished.

“Typical cults: you think it’s a cast of thousands when really it’s just four whackos sitting around in the dark,” Tara mused.

Prentiss smiled. “I think we deserve some decompression time, and Rossi’s kind enough to host.”

Rossi leaned over the railing and nodded. “And I have some top shelf wine picked just for the occasion.”

The team started gathering their belongings and heading towards the elevators. Y/N hesitated, looking toward the case file still sitting on her desk. Something about how this had all wrapped up just… didn’t sit right. Her nearly five years with the Critical Incident Response Group had given her an up close view of some of the most prolific cults in American history. She’d studied Jonestown, Waco, Ruby Ridge, Liberty Ranch; new cults emerged onto CIRG’s radar regularly. And there was something about The Believers that just didn’t add up.

Y/N began shuffling things around on her desk, trying to look busy. She caught Spencer and JJ out of the corner of her eye, talking quietly. They ended their conversation with a hug, lingering just a little longer than Y/N would have preferred. She shook her head to try to physically clear the thought from her brain. She knew that Spencer had been through a lifetime’s worth of trauma before she joined the team, and that JJ had been an integral support for him. Y/N was also aware that she had zero grounds to be concerned with any of Spencer’s relationships, romantic or otherwise.

“Y/N, you coming?” JJ asked, walking toward her desk. Spencer headed out of the bullpen and down the hall.

Y/N gave her a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a little bit. Just wanted to finish up a couple things here.”

“Well, don’t stay too late.” JJ pressed her lips together for a moment before adding, “Maybe you and Spence could drive together. He said he might not make it, but if he had some company...”

Y/N hoped her immediate flush wasn’t too obvious. After nearly a year in the unit, she finally felt like she had built some solid relationships with the team, and Spencer was no exception. She relished their card games on the jet, the laughs over too-sweet coffee, discussions about books and films and music. But she also adored the way his hair sometimes curled and fell into his eyes, his animated and rambling tangents, the way his hands traced over the tiny print of his books. Most of her adult life had been spent surrounded by men who would gather up her trust in their pitted hands and crush it on a whim. She’d kept her heart behind glass for a long while, but Spencer was slowly chipping away at the fragile panels. She was certain he had no idea that he was even holding the chisel; but just about everyone else seemed to have figured it out. JJ, with her hands clasped together and an eager smile, definitely had. Y/N smiled, too. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“So we’ll see you in a bit?” When Y/N nodded, JJ gave her a warm smile and headed out.

Turning back to the case file, Y/N pressed her fingers to her temple and looked over the documents. Some of the pieces fit together, but the whole case felt littered with gaps and holes. The tale that Theo had woven about The Believers seemed true enough— his parents were simply the suppliers of potential cult members. Although, she still couldn’t figure out the reason for the kidnapping and torture. There were much easier ways to recruit vulnerable people.

She flipped past the pages of written statements and read over the report from the warehouse raid. It was short— the take down of Merva was too easy. Why was he sitting alone in an empty warehouse with only two unarmed, sleeping followers as a defense? Where was the rest of the cult? Matt was correct that most cults fall apart without their leader; unless the loss of a leader was a possibility they’d already prepared for.

The burns on Quinn’s hands didn’t make sense, either. Why use the initiation ritual as a torture device? Shouldn’t that be saved for people who had accepted the invitation? And then there was the one coincidence that nagged at her the most: what were the chances that Theo just happened to be enrolled in Spencer's course? Why did Spencer seem to be at the center of the whole thing?

Y/N sighed as her phone lit up with a message from JJ. She realized she’d been poring over the file for twenty-five minutes, and she had to laugh. As the least experienced profiler on the team, what could she possibly see that the others hadn’t? She closed the case file and quickly packed up, grabbing her jacket and bag and making her way toward the elevator lobby. She paused at the glass doors, retrieving her phone and pulling up Spencer’s contact information. Her thumb hovered over the call button for a long moment before she huffed out a breath. If even JJ hadn’t been able to convince him to go, there was no way she’d be able to change his mind. Despite herself, she glanced down the hall, allowing herself one moment to imagine an alternate timeline where she asked him to come along with her— to Rossi’s, to the moon, anywhere.

With a sigh, Y/N pushed open the glass doors and saw Agent Meadows leading Quinn to the elevator. She pushed down the little red flag in the back of her mind. As she stepped onto the elevator, she smiled politely at the two agents.

“I knew you didn’t do it. I just knew,” Meadows said to Quinn. She turned to Y/N. “And I can’t tell you what a privilege it’s been working with the A-Team on this case.”

Something about the calm in her voice made Y/N uneasy. “Yeah, it’s— um. It’s a great team to be a part of.” Her phone lit up again, this time with a phone call from JJ. “Okay, okay,” she muttered under her breath. Y/N answered the call, half an ear still listening to Meadows speak to Quinn. “Hey, I’m just leaving now.”

“Are you still at the BAU?” JJ demanded, voice low.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. But I’m in the elevator,” Y/N answered.

“Listen, we’re pretty sure Quinn was converted,” JJ told her. Y/N’s heart dropped into her shoes. “I need you to make sure he doesn’t leave that building. We’re coming back now. Where’s Spence?”

Y/N took a breath to try to even out her voice before speaking again. “Mom, we already talked about this. I don’t know.”

JJ paused. “Is Quinn in the elevator with you?”

“Yep.” JJ spoke quietly to someone on the other end of the phone. Y/N watched as the elevator dinged to the floor of the parking garage. “I’m going to have to hang up, mom. I’m gonna lose you, but I’ll try to take care of it tonight, okay?”

“Y/N, we’re on our—” The call dropped as the elevator hit the basement level.

Y/N took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Ugh, lost her.” She glanced at Meadows and Quinn, forced a smile and shrugged. “Elevators, right?”

The elevator doors began to open and Y/N stepped out, surreptitiously reaching for her holster. She had just lifted the strap when she heard the crack of metal hitting bone. Her face hit the concrete before she realized it was her own skull that bore the impact. She watched as her gun skidded across the parking lot floor, the taste of iron flooding her mouth. “Fuck,” she muttered, wincing in pain and scrambling up off the ground as a gunshot went off.

She didn’t feel the impact of the bullet. She looked down at her body, expecting to see a blooming rose of blood. She stared dumbly for a second too long, before remembering that she needed to get to her gun. Her hand instinctively went to her nose as she stumbled forward, coming away wet with blood.

“Stop, Agent Y/L/N.”

She heard the sound of a gun cocking, and then another. She closed her eyes and ran through an internal stream of curses. Raising her hands up, she turned slowly around. An older white man stood to her left, his gun trained on her. Meadows walked slowly towards her, lowering her own weapon. Quinn leaned against the back of the elevator, clutching his abdomen and blood staining the front of his shirt.

“Surprise,” Meadows sang, a sick smile spreading across her face. She stopped in front of Y/N, sweeping her hand in the direction of the man. “Now, John’s going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Get in the car.”

Y/N glanced in the direction of the vehicle, a dark sedan, driver armed to the teeth as well. “The team knows something’s up. You won’t make it out of this garage alive.”

Meadows laughed, loud and unhinged. “Oh honey. They’re not looking for lil ol’ me. And they sure as hell won’t be looking for an ambulance.” Her smile returned. “Plus, I already erased 299 murders from the Bureau’s radar. What’s a couple more? Now, shut up... and get in the car.”

Y/N moved to the open car door, keeping her back as straight as possible and her chin up, refusing to show them any cowardice. The barrel of the gun jabbed her in the back as she lowered herself into the vehicle. The door slammed shut, and in a moment, the gun was back on her, the man sitting next to her in the backseat. Y/N waited for the car to pull out, still trying to make sense of it all. Meadows was a Believer? What did she mean by “erased” 299 murders? Why would she blow her cover to shoot Quinn? Did she think that he had figured her out? Or that Y/N had? If that was the case, why not just shoot her? Why wasn’t the car moving?

“Drop your gun, Agent Reid,” Meadows’ muffled voice penetrated the inside of the vehicle. Y/N’s heart began to race. John dug the gun further into her side.

“It’s been you the whole time,” Spencer deduced.

“Yes, it was. Quinn somehow figured it out first. Pity having to shoot him,” Meadows mocked. “But he can’t give me what I want. And you can.”

“What’s that?” Y/N’s brain scrambled to put the pieces together as she listened to the exchange. Spencer was at the heart of it after all. It was right there, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Meadows continued, “You and I are going to go upstairs and free my Messiah.”

“You’re in the heart of the FBI. As soon as the rest of my team figures out it’s you, you’ll be dead before you’re out the door.” Y/N hoped to god that he was right.

“Then we need to work quickly.”

“I’m not going to cooperate with you,” Spencer told her. “Might as well shoot me.” Y/N didn’t even have time to panic before the car shifted into drive.

“I have a better idea.” On Meadows’ cue, the driver squealed out of the parking space and into Spencer’s line of sight. His eyes fell on Y/N, hands nearly pressed against the window, John’s gun pointed at her head. “Now, what’s it gonna be? Because you can either join us, or she dies.”

Y/N tried to radiate her rage through her eyes and screamed, “Reid, just shoot her! Shoot her!” The last thing she saw before the second crack of steel against her skull was the hesitation in Spencer’s eyes.

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open and she groaned at the pounding of her head, the rhythm of her heartbeat throbbing in the space behind her ears. She tried to lift her hand to check for blood, only to strain against the hold of a zip tie attached to the base of the chair. Instead, she surveyed the room around her. A warehouse, lots of shipping containers, and even more men— this time armed with assault rifles and machine guns. One stood at the entrance point of the small area she was being kept in.

She worked through her memory, putting the pieces together. Meadows was a Believer, had been for quite some time to pull all of this off. Quinn wasn’t special, he just got in the way of her real target. Ben Merva might have been the messiah, but Spencer Reid was clearly just as important to whatever mission they were carrying out. Every twisting thread of information somehow traced back to him: Theo in his class, Quinn’s attachment to him, Meadows’ demand that he be the one to free Merva.

“Good, you’re awake.” Meadows strode through the space with a laptop in hand. “I need your handiwork.”

Y/N stared at her. “Is that so?’

Meadows set the laptop on the barrel in front of Y/N and then leaned down to cut the zip tie. “Besides being my collateral for the good doctor, you’re also going to help me access CIRG’s surveillance data.”

“Fuck you.” Y/N spat on Meadows’ shoes. “I’m doing nothing for you.” Her head rolled back, eyes piercing daggers into Meadows. “You should just kill me now, because this is a waste of your time. And I’m sure you know the A-Team isn’t going to waste theirs.”

Meadows narrowed her eyes and gave a theatrical sigh. “I should’ve known you’d make this difficult.” She nodded to John, standing at the entranceway.

Y/N spat again, this time to rid her mouth of the taste of blood. She steeled herself for the next onslaught, compartmentalizing every emotion outside of her fury. Her mind raced to salvage and scrutinize the memories from her time in CIRG, trying desperately to identify what Meadows could be looking for in the surveillance reports. The Believers hadn’t even been on the Bureau’s radar. The reason had to be linked to their interest in Spencer… a piece of information that involved both Spencer Reid and the existing surveillance data. A single grain that could bring the whole damn bushel down.

She heard a scuffle at the entrance of the room and raised her head. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of Spencer, bloodied and bruised. John dragged him into the room, throwing him down onto his knees in front of Y/N. His eyes tracked over her face and clouded over with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“Shit, Reid—”

“I’m fine—I’m sure it looks worse than it is,” he murmured. The concern in his eyes told Y/N she looked about as bad as she felt. “Are you all right?”

“I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known—”

“No,” Spencer interrupted. “This isn’t your fault. We all missed it.”

“What’s the end game here?” Y/N asked. “What’re they doing?”

“I’m going to be their last victim.” Spencer shook his head, barely able to keep himself upright. “I don’t know why, but I overheard them. There have been hundreds.”

Meadows stepped up behind Spencer, grinning at Y/N. “Have you changed your mind? I sure hope you have.” She raised her gun to his head. “Because if you don’t do what I want, I’ll blow his big, beautiful brains out.”

Spencer locked eyes with Y/N. She held his gaze for a moment, then tilted her head slightly as the gears started turning. The tie between Spencer and Benjamin was where it all unraveled. “No, I don’t think you will.”

Meadows’ grin faltered for less than a second, but it was long enough that Y/N knew she was right. “Is that right?” Meadows questioned.

“Yeah, it is.” She furrowed her brow, and Spencer looked at her. “You need him, don’t you? Alive.” Meadows’ tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Y/N was sure. “Because this isn’t just about Benjamin Merva. It’s about Benjamin Cyrus. It’s about Liberty Ranch.”

Meadows held her gaze for five seconds, then ten seconds. Y/N raised her chin, refusing to be the one to blink first. Meadows shifted the trajectory of her gun a foot to her right and fired off one shot. The breeze from the bullet shifted Y/N’s hair.

“You have two minutes to decide,” Meadows advised. The phone in her hand began ringing. “The next one won’t miss.” She answered the phone and stepped out.

Spencer spoke quickly. “Do whatever she’s asking. We have to get you out of here.”

“Reid, are your eyes broken?” Y/N snapped. “There’s a cult loyalist with a machine gun every five feet. You got a plan for that?”

“Listen to me.” His voice was calm, determined. “You’re right about them wanting me alive.”

The frustration bled through Y/N’s voice. “You should have just shot her.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t do that.”

“You could’ve shot all three of them and ended this in the garage,” Y/N argued.

“And then I would have watched you die,” he said quietly. “That was never even an option.”

“I’m failing to see how that would have been any worse than this. Look at us.” She gestured wildly between them. She watched as the storm of emotion returned, a cyclone swirling in seas of gold and brown. “The team needs you. Spencer, I—” I need you. She reached a hand up, almost touching his face before dropping it back in her lap. He had found the chink in her carefully constructed armor; a fissure he’d fractured a little further with every smile, every look, every moment. All at once she knew she’d never be able to keep him out, no matter how much it might hurt.

“You’ve got one minute,” Meadows barked, hovering over them.

“Y/L/N, listen to me… Please...” Spencer’s voice was thick with tears. “Tell my mom—” The phone rang again, and Meadows stepped away to answer it. Spencer dropped to a whisper. His eyes flashed with urgency. “They’re taking me and Theo. We’ll distract them. The car we were in is right outside the door. We’re 18 minutes from Quantico. Turn left outside the parking lot, take a right at the light, you’ll recognize the rest. They stay off the highways.”

Y/N’s voice was frantic when she asked, “What about you?”

His eyes pleaded with her to respect what he was asking her to do. “I’ll delay them. Get the rest of the team back here. And do not worry about me.” John hauled up him off the floor.

“Time’s up.” Meadows, in a rare display of mercy, allowed them a hug.

Spencer leaned into her and Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She squeezed as hard as she could and whispered his name. She felt him take a deep breath into her hair, holding it for one impossibly long moment. Just before she released her hold on him, he mumbled, “It’s all happening. 10:23.” John dragged him back out the way they’d came.

“I gave you what you wanted.” Meadows ordered, “Get to it. Now.”

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N worked and waited, then watched and worried. Spencer spoke to Meadows. He was stalling her, offering a deal, boosting her ego, granting Y/N the opportunity to mentally prepare. But no matter how much time he gave her, she would never be prepared to leave him in that warehouse. He met her eyes across the movements of the operation and gave her an imperceptible nod before lunging forward to reach for John’s gun.

Chaos exploded throughout the warehouse. Theo ran in one direction, accosted by half a dozen Believers. Spencer and John tussled over the gun, one fighting for control and the other fighting the inevitable. Y/N sprinted, largely unnoticed, toward the huge sliding doors left slightly ajar. Bursting out into the night air, she immediately spotted one of the black sedans, unbelievably unlocked and with the keys in the ignition. She slammed the door behind her, turned the key, hesitated with her eyes on the door and her mind on Spencer for one moment too long. A single gunshot sounded from inside the warehouse.

Meadows raced out of the doorway, gun drawn. “Stop!” She pointed her gun at Y/N and there was nothing to do but step on the gas. Y/N had her eyes wide open as Meadows bounced off the windshield and onto the asphalt. She didn’t look back.

She drove. Left out of the parking lot. Just a dark, rural road—nothing particularly special or descript. She drove. Right at the stoplight. Then it was, just as Spencer said, familiar terrain. She wondered how it was possible to have seemed so far away— a world away— when it was right under their proverbial nose. She drove.

Her brain navigated of its own volition. Her mind couldn’t have been farther from the inside of the vehicle. She didn’t realize she’d arrived at the Bureau until she was attempting to pull into her usual parking spot, only to be met with her own abandoned car.

She turned the car off, left the keys in the ignition, and nearly floated out into the garage; up the elevator; across the cold floors of the lobby. Her body had walked this same path so many times before; it carried her without hesitation. She could hear the voices of the team, drifting through the open glass doors.

“She accepted their help knowing she would betray the government,” Tara deduced.

“Not every survivor wanted help,” JJ clarified.

Rossi continued, “We ran those who left the ranch and kept their names. A few relocated in rural Maryland and Virginia.”

“They could be helping now,” Luke suggested. “Any of them have large pieces of property?”

“A few,” Emily confirmed. Y/N turned the corner as she continued, “The Washington field office has started searches in Maryland. We’ll take the lead in Virginia.”

As she moved into the doorway, JJ’s eyes went wide and she rushed to Y/N’s side. “Oh my god, are you hurt?” She gently grabbed Y/N by the shoulders.

“It’s a warehouse in Hillcrest,” Y/N said flatly, eyes unfocused. “I can take you there, but we have to hurry. They hurt Reid; he looked— bad. He told me to r-run and take the car, but he’s still there.” Everyone headed for the doors except JJ and Garcia. “They won’t be there long, they have lots of trucks.” Y/N’s eyes locked on JJ, and for the first time since the whole ordeal started, she allowed herself to splinter, just a little. “I heard a gunshot. JJ, I heard a gunshot. I tried—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” JJ nodded, drawing her into a hug. “I know. I know you tr—”

“I left him there.” Her voice broke, but she couldn’t cry. Not yet. “I couldn’t get him. There was no way to save hi—”

“Stop,” JJ ordered, pulling out of the hug. “Y/N, look at me. You got out, you got back to us. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t even know about the warehouse.”

“What if— what if I got him killed?” Y/N asked.

“You didn’t get anyone killed. Spence knew what he was doing.” JJ’s voice softened. “That’s what he does. He always figures things out before the rest of us. He has a plan and getting you back to Quantico was part of it.” She raised her eyebrows, making sure Y/N was listening. “And now we have to help him by putting the rest of it together.”

Y/N ran a hand over her face. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”

Garcia stepped forward and laid a hand on her arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then we’ll get Reid back.”

They cleaned the blood from her face and hair as best they could in the bathroom sink. JJ patched up the lacerations with steri-strips. Back in the conference room, Garcia insisted she should get screened for a concussion as Y/N rubbed the knot on the back of her head. “There’s no time. Reid said, ‘It’s all happening. 10:23.’”

“But it’s past that,” JJ considered.

“So what did he mean?” Garcia asked.

“Could be a clue here.” Rossi's voice came over the speakerphone from inside the warehouse. “They got sloppy since they left in a hurry.”

“Okay, well you can’t be that far behind them,” JJ insisted.

“I know,” Emily agreed. “But there’s easy access to three major highways, and we don’t know which way they went.”

“Right, but they’re in tractor trailers. That means we can track them through weigh stations.”

“Garcia?” Emily prompted.

“In order to do that, I’d need the transponder identification numbers,” Garcia answered.

“Which we have no way of knowing,” Rossi sighed. “Everything they used was almost definitely forged.”

“We’re going to do another sweep here, and then we’ll head back,” Emily said. “Try to map out the most likely routes they’d use to get out of dodge.”

JJ hung up and looked to Y/N. “What do you remember about the warehouse?”

Y/N pressed her fingers into her temples. “It was full of supplies. They were disguising them, but they had stockpiles of weapons and ammunition; non-perishables and other food items; water. Enough to be off the grid for at least a year.” Y/N leaned back in her chair. “But it wasn’t just about The Believers. I mean, we know they’re a reincarnation of the Separatarian Sect.” She looked at JJ and Garcia. “It was more than that, though. Reid was at the center of everything; he was the target all along. Merva is the messiah, but it somehow all comes back to Spence.”

“Makes sense. They blame him for the downfall of the Sect,” JJ supplied.

“Yeah.” Y/N cracked her knuckles. “But—and I can’t—I can’t really explain it, but Meadows really wanted to kill Reid right then. She was— she was irritated, more than anything else.”

“So what stopped her?” Garcia asked.

“That’s what I can’t figure out. She threatened me with it, with ‘blowing his brains out,’ but I— called her bluff. And she was pissed.” Y/N rapped her knuckles on the table. “I mean, really, really furious. Which tells me that, even though she wanted to, she couldn’t kill him.” She looked between the two of them. “Merva was pulling the strings, and he wouldn’t let her do it there.”

“So it matters where the final sacrifice takes place,” JJ concluded. “We’ve got to figure out where they’re going.”

⧭⧭⧭

They’d been rehashing the details over and over. Liberty Ranch, The Strangler investigation, The Believers, Meadows, Merva, Cyrus, 300 victims, the hyoid bones, all of it. About the only thing they knew for sure was how far the cult could get in the trucks. Spencer could have told them the exact square mileage, but the potential geographical range of the trucks was dauntingly large. Y/N tried not to panic as she stared at the map.

“If this is about a Believer's rebirth, babies are born with 300 bones,” JJ said. “And they’re taking the hyoids.”

“And the hyoids we had in evidence are missing, which means Merva needed them back,” Tara reasoned. “And that means they mean more to the end game than we thought.”

Y/N felt her patience waning. “But why did Reid need us to know it all happens at 10:23?” Y/N hated that her voice sounded snappy and desperate. “That’s got to be important. It’s the last thing he said to me.”

Matt put his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, you’re right. It means something to him. We’re trying to figure it out.”

“Yeah, well, we better figure it out soon.” Y/N shrugged off his hand, pushed back from her seat at the conference room table, and turned for the door. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Every minute they spent floating ideas was another mile between them and Spencer. Another moment closer to losing him. She shoved the bathroom door open, hurrying into the stall and emptying the contents of her stomach.

She slumped back against the side of the stall, head gently knocking into the cool metal. She needed to pull herself together. The team was always strongest when they did their group think sessions, building upon each other’s knowledge and perspectives and filling in the gaps. If they’d done more of that earlier— if she’d had the confidence to call it out as soon as she saw the holes, Spencer might not be locked in the back of a truck, hundreds of miles away.

Y/N hoisted herself off the ground and out of the stall. She braced her hands on the counter top and tried to breathe evenly. She turned on the water and splashed her face, tapping against her cheeks. With water dripping down the planes of her face, she stared herself down in the mirror, willing her tired brain to make that last connection, to find that missing thread. It was all about the Benjamins, and she had a feeling that Cyrus was the key.

Y/N rolled her shoulders back and made her way to the conference room. She listened to their rotating conversation, knowing that this team was the only group of people capable of getting Spencer back alive.

“We have confirmation that there’s been no activity in or around the old ranch,” Matt informed them, pocketing his phone.

“If this is about rebirth, they’ll choose a new place,” Luke posited, arms crossed.

Tara leaned over the table. “Given their adoration of Cyrus and his love for the country, he’d want them to stay within our borders.”

“But Benjamin Cyrus wasn’t his real name, and he wasn’t born into the Sect,” Y/N reminded them quietly. Everyone turned to look at her. She gave an apology grimace to Matt. He just shrugged and smiled, motioning her over to the table.

Garcia nodded. “Right, let’s see. Uh, he and his mom arrived there when he was a teenager. He was kicked out for molesting girls. And then he served time in prison in Kentucky.”

“And that’s where he found religion,” Y/N recalled, thinking back to the report she’d studied dozens of times. “So he was reborn as Benjamin Cyrus in Kentucky.” She closed her eyes and flipped through her mental file cabinet, looking for 10:23.

“That’s within the area,” Garcia confirmed. “Maybe that’s where they’re headed?”

“Find out what city he was born in or where he was in prison,” Luke said. “We’ll spread out from there.”

“He found religion,” Y/N repeated, mostly to herself. “Chapter ten, verse twenty-three. 10:23 isn’t a time.” Y/N shook her head and then dragged her hand through her hair. “It’s scripture.”

“Let’s get in the air; we can narrow down which verse and city before we land,” Emily instructed.

⧭⧭⧭

“We’re approaching Kentucky; the pilot needs to know where to touch down,” Rossi informed them.

The team was scattered throughout the jet, scrolling through scripture on their tablets, reading out verses. Y/N held her chin in her hand, eyes unfocused, dragging a net along the furthest corners of her mind.

“Hey guys, listen to this,” JJ said. “Matthew chapter ten, verse twenty-three: ‘When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another.’”

“They’re going to the next town,” Emily said.

“Flee to the next town. But which one?” asked Garcia.

“Their end game is also a new beginning,” Rossi explained. “Cyrus brought religion back to the cult. They’d honor that by wanting to start fresh.”

Y/N raised her head. “Like the Garden of Eden.”

“That’s how 300 fits,” Tara concluded. “That was the number of angels that protected the Garden of Eden. Are there any Edens in Kentucky?”

The sound of Garcia tapping across the keyboard came through the laptop. “Um, no, but there are two synonyms: Canaan and Arcadia.”

“Cyrus is the original messiah. Which one is closer to where he was born?” Y/N asked.

“Arcadia,” Garcia informed them.

Y/N stood up. “That’s where they’re going.”

“Garcia, pull land deeds. I’ll notify SWAT,” Emily instructed.

JJ grabbed Y/N’s hand. “We’re going to get him.”

Y/N met her eyes. “I just hope we’re not too late.”

⧭⧭⧭

The new compound proved easy to find. In the middle of nowhere but illuminated by hundreds of lights, there were rows and rows of tents. The team began strategizing, looking for the best route to Spencer.

Emily tried to convince Y/N, now showing clear concussion symptoms, to stay with the SUVs.

“With all due respect, there is no way in hell that I’m going to sit in this car while Reid gets sacrificed by a homicidal cult leader,” Y/N said. There was a hushed pause, the team exchanging knowing glances.

“Fair enough,” Emily conceded. “Matt and JJ, I want you on the left side. Luke and Tara, the right. Dave and Y/N, you’re with me. We’re clearing every tent; eliminate any threat that would give away your position.” She unholstered her gun and swept her eyes across the team. “Our objective is to extract Reid with minimal loss.”

As they approached the first line of tents, Y/N could faintly hear Spencer speaking. “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” Her heart hammered against her ribcage. “A time to be born and a time to die.” She could feel the blood rushing through her ears. “A time to weep and a time to pluck up that which has been planted.”

“Okay, he’s stalling,” Meadows snapped. “That’s enough!”

“All right. Let the sacrifice begin.” That was Merva now, riling up the followers. “Protect us from all harm.”

As Merva led The Believers in a monotone chant, Y/N tried to block it out. She scanned a tent, watched as SWAT took out a bodyguard, looked for Spencer. Rinse and repeat, again and again. It was taking too long.

“And we thank Our Guardian, who will protect this family now and always,” Merva’s voice rang out. “Spencer: keeper of provisions!” Y/N saw the gathering of followers, but she couldn’t see Spencer.

The SWAT commander stopped them. They had reached the final line of tents. He signaled to the leaders on each side. They were ready to strike.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the crowd. She could just barely make out some sort of hanging mobile, white u-shaped decorations suspended from string. The hyoids, she realized, a wave of nausea hitting her like a truck.

Merva continued, “You have given selflessly to others and will be rewarded by the highest honor we could bestow. Your blood will be our blood. Your life will fuel ours.”

A gunshot rang out. The followers gasped. There was a split second of calm before the bedlam. Y/N took a single breath. Then she heard Matt yell; saw John lift his rifle and be felled by a solo shot to the head; watched Luke take down another bodyguard directly after.

And then she saw him. Strapped down under a canopy of bones, Spencer was silent and unmoving. He didn’t struggle. He didn’t call out. And there was Merva, knife in hand— still trying to complete his mission.

She didn’t vacillate, barely breathed, just let her legs carry her forward. She heard Emily call out his name. When Merva turned, the curved blade of the knife poised at the column of Spencer's throat, Y/N’s trigger finger compressed. She felt the gun recoil, felt the force of the shot travel up her arm as she put a single bullet in his chest. As he fell, she didn’t stop, just stepped over him, knew one of the others would take care of it.

She tripped over the small platform Spencer was restrained on, stumbling and holstering her gun. Her hands moved over the straps, loosening the one over his waist, then the ones at his hands, finally pushing the leather from his head. He panted and muttered his thanks, but she didn’t dare speak, afraid that if she did, she’d never be able to stop. Instead, she flung her arms over his shoulders, pulling him down and close and over her heart. She wondered if he could feel the way it pummeled against her chest, because to her it felt like it might smash through at any moment. His arms came around her, chin resting on her shoulder, nose in her hair. She heard him inhale and hold his breath, a mirror of that last moment together in the warehouse. She held onto him as an overboard sailor holds a life ring: single-minded, unrelenting, desperate.

There was a touch on her opposite shoulder and Y/N swung around, adrenaline still racing through her veins. JJ put her hand out in a placating motion, and Y/N came back to herself, allowing JJ to step forward and help Spencer off the platform. Y/N let out a breath and reached a hand out to steady herself, only to flinch when it brushed one of the straps that had held Spencer down. Luke caught her on one side, Tara on the other. She grasped at them, her emotions teetering right along with her physical form. Luke pulled her out from under the macabre canopy and into a hug. Tara held her hand. For the first time since the parking garage, she let herself go.

⧭⧭⧭

The jet was quiet. The team was spread out around the cabin, each of them lost in their own heads. There was a tranquility over the space, one that only ever happened when unmitigated relief overwhelmed even the joy or fulfillment of a life saved.

Y/N sat in one of the single seats, across the aisle from where Spencer was settled. Tara and Luke had finally convinced her to get checked out by the EMTs, who had confirmed her concussion. She convinced herself that the fuzziness on the corners of her vision was just a symptom of that, not a product of the tears she was struggling to hold back.

The team each stopped by Spencer’s seat, patting his shoulder, squeezing his hand, or in Rossi’s case, gently ruffling his hair. They all spoke briefly in hushed, grateful tones. All except Y/N. She couldn’t formulate a sentence that seemed adequate. There was simultaneously too much and nothing to say. Everything felt contrived or insufficient or intemperate.

Spencer was safe. They hadn’t been too late. He was bruised and undoubtedly sore, but ultimately, he’d been through worse. So why was her heart still aching? Why couldn’t she catch her breath? She hadn’t spoken more than a few words since leaving the raid, so why did her throat feel like it was on fire? She closed her eyes, leaned her head back. She incessantly pressed her hands together, trying to crack her sore knuckles over and over again.

A pair of hands gently closed over her own, stopping the abuse, and she didn’t have to open her eyes to know who they belonged to. His thumbs stroked over the backs of her hands and she cursed the tears that spilled over her bottom lashes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t force her to look at him or acknowledge her shattering. He waited her out, rubbing a rhythm on her skin and steadying her without a word. She opened her eyes but couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet. Instead she focused on their joined hands, reciprocating the gentle pulses he gave every so often.

She turned her head to wipe her wet cheeks on her shoulder as the landing announcement came over the cabin speaker. She did look at him then, and the emotion in his gaze left her feeling raw and exposed. Their hands reluctantly separated to buckle their seat belts. Y/N closed her eyes again, turning her face into the warmth of the early morning sun as the jet began its descent.

When they landed, everyone wearily shuffled off the plane, eager to get home to their beds. Penelope met them at the elevator, enveloping Spencer in a long hug, the rest of the team smiling at their embrace. They each moved through the bullpen, gathering their things and talking quietly. Y/N’s eyes paused on her bag, brought up from the parking garage by one of the team after she’d gone missing. They lingered for a long moment on the case file, still sitting where she’d left it hours ago, before she let herself let it go. She grabbed her bag and turned to see Spencer standing in the aisle, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on her.

“Hey,” she said dumbly.

He smiled. “Hi.”

Her hands wrung the straps of her bag. “How—how’re you holding up?”

“I’ve been worse.” He shrugged. “How’s your head?”

“I’ve been worse,” she agreed.

“That’s good. Because I think after all that, the least you could do is give me a ride home,” he joked.

Y/N knew he was trying to reassure her that he was fine, but she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. If anything, his attempts to provide comfort made her feel worse. Because she couldn’t forget the sound of the gunshot at the warehouse, the sight of the knife at his throat, the feeling of nearly losing someone whom she knew she could love if she just had more time. Too exhausted to hide her emotions, she could tell by the change in Spencer’s eyes that the pain was apparent on her face.

“Actually, you probably shouldn’t be driving, even if it’s just a mild concussion. Where are your keys?”

“It’s fine. I’m all ri—” Y/N started.

“I know I phrased that as a question, but I’m not really asking.” He held out his hand.

Normally she would have argued, but she just didn’t have the energy. Y/N dug into her bag, fishing out the keys and dropping them into his hand. He closed his fingers around them and jerked his head toward the door. “Come on,” he murmured. He waved to the rest of the team, and Y/N nodded, avoiding their eyes.

The ride in the elevator was silent. The walk to the car, too. They were pulling out of the garage before Spencer finally broke the silence.

“You know this wasn’t your fault, right?” he asked. Y/N stayed quiet. “We all missed the connection to Liberty Ranch.”

“But I knew something was off, and I didn’t say anything. I— I almost came to find you before I left, and if I had just done that—”

“Y/N,” Spencer interrupted. “The plan was already in motion. Meadows and Merva would have just figured out another way to execute it.” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “And without you and the leads from the warehouse, the team might not have figured it out in time.”

Y/N opened her mouth before realizing she didn’t have a response. She didn’t even want to consider that possibility. She leaned her head against the window, pressing the thumb and fingers of one hand into her eyes to stave off the throbbing.

Graciously, Spencer let her remain in silence the rest of the ride to her apartment. There was so much to say, especially now; she didn’t know where to begin. And even after everything, she couldn’t stop herself from bringing up that wall— protecting herself from what she knew could hurt her more than any unsub.

They pulled onto her street, fairly empty at such an early hour. Spencer parked in front of her apartment, opening the car door and coming around the other side of the car. She expected him to give her the keys, but as she exited the car, he waited by the gate for her. “I’ll walk you up.”

Spencer opened the gate, allowing her to walk through before closing it behind them and following her up the sidewalk. “I need the keys,” she told him.

He shook his head as if to clear it. “Right, right.” He placed them into her outstretched hand, and she wondered if she imagined his fingers lingering over hers.

When they reached her door, she unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open, stepping over the threshold. He waited outside, hands in his pockets. Y/N rolled her keys in her hand, and Spencer watched them.

“Um— thank you for—” Y/N started.

“I told Emily on the jet, and I’ll tell you now.” Spencer raised his eyes to meet hers. There was that look again, the one she couldn’t quite identify. “I’ve always had a hard time saying what I feel. And maybe sometimes it’s because I’m afraid of being disappointed. But sometimes it’s because the words I’m looking for don’t exist in the English language.”

“Spence—”

“Please just let me get this out,” he said. “There have been a couple moments over the past few months where I thought maybe we were sharing mamihlapinatapei.”

“Mamih what?” Y/N asked.

“Mamihlapinatapei.” He repeated, gesturing with his hands. “It’s a Yagan word that originates on the Tierra del Fuego archipelago off the southern tip of Argentina. It translates succinctly as ‘the wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so.’”

“Oh.” Y/N felt a flush rising up in her cheeks.

Suddenly, Spencer couldn’t meet her eyes. “I, um—I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize our friendship or make things awkward at work. But last night, I… I just— I’ve had too many moments in my life where I thought it might be my last, and I hadn’t said all the things I needed to say.” He met her eyes again, and there was that familiar storm. “Last night I was out of time, and I hadn’t told you how I feel, and I realized that I wouldn’t get another chance, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but I needed to—”

Y/N stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed their mouths together. She tried to pour everything into the kiss: every blush, every worry, every laugh, every panicked moment, every mamihlapinatapei. Spencer cradled her face in his hands, opening his mouth and capturing her bottom lip, accepting everything she gave him. She wound one of her hands into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and grounding herself to this new reality that almost wasn’t. The height of the kiss tapered off, and Y/N drew back, untangling her fingers from his hair and her heart from his grasp. Spencer watched her carefully, honey eyes uncertain.

“I do. Feel the same,” Y/N confirmed. Spencer’s lips twitched. “I’m not good at vulnerability. I’ve got a great track record of getting hurt.” Spencer grabbed her hand and opened his mouth, but Y/N continued, “But then I thought we might lose you, that time was out, and that I— I wouldn’t get the chance to see if you could be— if this could be more.” She gestured between them and then met his eyes again. “And I guess being vulnerable isn’t so bad in comparison. Because I think I could fall in love with you. I think maybe it’s already happening.” She held her breath and pressed her lips together, fighting the regret of saying too much.

“Actually, there’s a word for that, too.” Spencer smiled, warm and soft and genuine. “Forelsket. The origin is Norwegian, and it roughly translates to ‘the euphoria experienced as you begin to fall in love.’”

“Forelsket?” Y/N asked.

“Well, it’s more like forelsket,” Spencer corrected.

“Wow, okay, 187.” Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like days. “Forelsket.”

“Better,” Spencer praised. “There’s also the Tagalog version, kilig.”

Y/N took a step closer to him and smoothed his shirt where her hands had wrinkled it. “Translation?”

“‘The sudden feeling of an inexplicable joy one gets when something romantic happens,’ or alternatively ‘the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.’” Spencer moved his hand to her waist and stepped over the threshold.

Y/N cupped his cheek in her hand, soothing the bruises and guiding him back to her. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #homoose writes

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purrincess-chat · 3 years

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH14

Things are changing ;) The next 10 chapters look a lot different than the original, and most of them are brand new.

Previous First Next AO3

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Chapter 14: Death by a Thousand Cuts

The crowd waiting for Ladybug and Chat Noir outside the Louvre grew thicker as another van pulled up, and a crew of reporters hopped out. Alya drummed her fingers on her phone, shifting when the new additions forced their way into the throng. She just wanted answers. Being selected to be Rena Rouge meant she had some sort of bond with Ladybug, right? So why did Ladybug replace her without warning? Was it out of necessity? Or did the fox Miraculous have a permanent new owner?

Camera bulbs flashed as the heroes exited the museum, and several microphones competed for their attention, swallowing Alya in a sea of limbs. Lila promised a private interview, and if her stories were to be believed, she’d better come through. This was the moment that would define their friendship, and more importantly, Alya would finally learn if Marinette and Adrien were telling the truth.

“Ladybug!”

“What’s the story on this akuma?”

“Can you confirm that you and Chat Noir are dating?”

“Do you have any leads on tracking down Hawkmoth?”

“A student got punished for wandering off on a field trip. No, we’re not dating—stop asking! And as of right now, we have no leads, but Chat Noir and I are doing everything in our power to keep you all safe,” she said smoothly. She never once looked at Alya in the crowd.

“Ladybug,” Alya spoke up.

Ladybug shifted to face her, though her face bore no sense of recognition or familiarity. Her expression was blank, cold, business-like, distant—a steely mask hiding her emotions.

Alya bit her lip and continued. “Um, I was hoping to get an answer to a question many of my followers have. Do you have time for an interview?”

Ladybug’s earrings beeped frantically—a reminder that the heroes were on literal timers.

“I’ve only got a couple minutes,” she replied. “Make it quick.”

Strike one.

“My viewers want to know what happened to Rena Rouge. Will Malin be a permanent replacement, or was he a temporary stand-in?” she asked.

Several reporters rolled their eyes. As far as they were concerned, these questions were yesterday’s news. No one else seemed to care that Rena Rouge was replaced. They clung to whoever wore the suit in the moment, but it was the most important question in the world to Alya.

Something flashed in Ladybug’s eyes, an uneasy expression Alya saw in the mirror a lot as of late. Those big blue eyes were filled with pain, hurt, and regret, but Alya couldn’t figure out why. What had she done to receive such tortured expressions from someone who once trusted her?

“Malin will wield the Fox Miraculous in all battles moving forward.” She grabbed her yoyo. “No more questions. Bug out.”

Reporters glared daggers at Alya for wasting their opportunity to get the latest scoop. Alya could see it in their eyes. As far as they were concerned, Rena Rouge was old news. Her heart dropped to her feet, shattering like glass on concrete.

Strike two.

“I’ll be happy to take a few more questions.” Chat Noir stepped to the center of the crowd. His eyes skipped over Alya too, lengthening the chasm growing between them.

Strike three.

All the microphones pointed at him, pushing Alya aside just as Ladybug had done to Rena Rouge. Her heart hammered in her chest, a painful lump blocking her throat as tears welled in her eyes. Did Ladybug not trust her anymore? What did it all mean? Lila was supposed to talk to her and set up a private interview, but Ladybug treated her so coldly. Why?

Because she’s a liar.

The thought flashed in her mind, Marinette’s familiar voice ringing in her ears. Alya had to wonder if knowing the truth was any better than living in ignorance. One thing was certain: if Lila really was a liar, then Alya had a lot of apologizing to do.

♪♫♪ Sanctuary ♪♫♪

“Hey, you made it!” Macy took Marinette’s hands and planted kisses on her cheeks. “Is Adrien coming?”

“He said he was.” Marinette retrieved her phone from her purse to check her messages.

“You two should sit together.” Macy insisted, and when Marinette’s eyebrows raised, she added, “I’m a huge fan of his, but you two seem really close, and I’d never want to start anything over a boy. It’s not worth ruining our friendship.”

“Macy…” Marinette pulled her in for a hug. “You’re the best.”

“No, you are, and if Adrien can’t see that then he has poor taste,” Macy said. “If you ever need a wingwoman, I’ve got your back, and I’m sure Eliott can teach you all kinds of ways to flirt.”

“I might take him up on that. I’m hopeless.” Marinette admitted. “Sometimes when I talk to him my words come out wrong.”

“Why don’t I set up the perfect scene for you two tonight?” Macy offered. “Afterall, the play is packed with romance. He won’t know what hit him.”

“Who won’t know what?” Adrien asked as he and Martin approached.

“Oh, nothing,” Macy said with a coy lilt. “Just girl stuff, you wouldn’t be interested.”

“I get it. Keep your secrets.” Adrien smirked.

“Come on, Eliott reserved us box seats!” Macy took Marinette’s wrist and led the way.

As promised, Macy sat Marinette next to Adrien and toted Martin off with her to “get a drink.” Adrien seemed oblivious to her plans but unbothered by the extra alone time with Marinette.

“So, your dad let you come, huh?” Marinette said conversationally.

“He’s more amicable toward other rich people, and he thinks theatre is a more…enriching activity.” He rolled his eyes. “I guess he figures I’ll behave.”

“Either way, I’m glad. It means we can spend more time together.” Marinette offered him a shy smile.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a downer. I’m really glad he’s letting me out. Ever since you changed schools, I don’t get to see you as often, so I always look forward to spending time together,” he said.

Marinette’s heart skipped three beats. “Yeah, it’s great! N-Not that he doesn’t trust you, but that we can hang out, I mean. It stinks that he doesn’t trust all of your friends and keeps you at home, and I’m sure it must be hard for you, and… I’m gonna stop talking.”

She turned to face forward, slapping her palm to her forehead. Maybe she should have hit up Eliott for flirting advice before she let Macy push them together.

“No, no! It’s fine. It is hard, but I’ve got really great friends like you who understand, so that makes it better,” he said.

“You know I’m always here for you if you want to talk about it. Any time.” She reached out, hesitantly at first, to place her hand over his. “You’re…really important to me, Adrien.”

Adrien searched her soft expression before a smile curled on his lips. “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.” He gave her hand a squeeze as Macy and Martin returned.

Macy nudged Marinette with a giggle, and she bit back a smile. Maybe she wasn’t as hopeless as she thought. Adrien kept hold of her hand until the lights dimmed, and the theatre hall broke into applause. It was a small gesture, but Marinette would take it.

Eliott played an amazing Chat Noir, and even Margot didn’t do too bad as Ladybug, despite being a total brat behind the scenes. The play was fun, and a reminder of how much Paris trusted Ladybug and Chat Noir to defend them. Though, she did find fault with their kiss at the end seeing as she and Chat were so not like that, but Paris wanted what it wanted even if it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You. Were. Awesome!” Macy tackled Eliott the moment they met up afterward.

“Thanks,” Eliott chuckled. “I think that was my best performance.”

“You play Chat Noir so well, Eliott. Are you sure you’re not really him?” Marinette teased.

“I’d believe it,” Adrien said. “I’m impressed by the quality of your playwright’s puns.”

“They’re almost as cheesy as the real Chat Noir’s,” Marinette added with a grunt.

“Not feline the cat puns, Marinette?” Adrien folded his arms over his chest and cocked a brow.

“Purrhaps she just doesn’t find them funny,” Eliott said with a wink.

“Then she has a very purr sense of humor.” Adrien smirked.

Marinette rolled her eyes, shooting him a playful grin of her own. “I just think his comedic timing needs work. They’re saving Paris; shouldn’t he take his job a little more seriously?”

“Meowch. No appreciation for good comedy with this one,” Adrien said.

“I may have to reconsider purrmitting you to attend the after party on my yacht,” Eliott said. “You have to make one cat pun to be admitted.”

“Do I have to?” Marinette groaned.

“We can chat about it on the way.” Macy giggled as Adrien and Eliott praised her contribution.

“Yeah, we’ve gato go.” Martin pointed to the door, only adding fuel to the fire.

Marinette sighed. “Betrayed by all of my friends at once. That’s cold.” When they all gave her expectant looks, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Please leave meowt of this.”

She rolled her eyes as they all applauded, curtsying and blowing sarcastic kisses. If anyone knew more cat puns than they ever wanted to, it was her. Chat Noir certainly kept them coming.

“Alright, I guess you can come.” Eliott draped an arm over her shoulder as they walked.

“You guys are insufferable,” Marinette said.

“You love us though.” Adrien wrapped an arm around her waist on the other side, and her cheeks warmed.

Across the lobby, Lisette was chatting with other stagehands, and Eliott stiffened. He might be good at flirting, but when it came to Lisette, he always clammed up. It didn’t help that she was shier than Marinette either.

“Go invite her.” Marinette urged, elbowing his side.

“What? Who? I wasn’t- you’re…”

“Hey, Lisette!” Marinette called, breaking out of his grip and beelining for her.

“Marinette!” Eliott chased after her.

Lisette tilted her head to one side. “Hey, you’re…”

“Marinette.” She held out a hand. “Eliott’s friend.”

“Yeah, you were at our dress rehearsal last night.” Lisette nodded, cheeks flushing when Eliott latched onto Marinette. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s up.” Eliott clamped a hand over Marinette’s mouth, and she gave him a prompting look. “Um, just I’m having a party on my yacht if you wanna come. Just a few friends and family, super casual. Margot won’t be there.”

Lisette clutched the hem of her shirt and bit her lip. “Sounds fun.” She rocked back on her heels. “Let me go home and change, then I’ll come over.”

“Okay, great!” Eliott said a little too loudly. “I’ll- We’ll see you there.”

“Great.”

“Cool.” He turned abruptly, dragging Marinette away by the wrist. “Okay, I deserved that revenge.”

“She likes you!” Marinette said.

Eliott couldn’t hide his smile. “Shut up.”

“She’s coming to your party.”

“Yeah, I got that. Thanks.” He let a breath pass his lips. “I’m just nervous. I’ve never liked someone before, and I’m scared that everything could go wrong.”

“Talk to her tonight. Let her get to know you, and I’m sure she’ll like you no matter what,” Marinette urged. “Have confidence.”

Eliott searched her expression, pursing his lips. “Okay.”

The rest of the group was waiting in the limo, and Marinette crawled in beside Adrien. Macy was prattling on about the play, particularly the big kiss at the end, teasing Eliott for having to kiss Margot.

“Do you think her snobbishness can infect you like getting bit by a zombie?” She poked his cheek.

“Shut up, we’ve rehearsed that kiss a 100 times over the past few weeks, and I’m fine.” He swatted her hand away.

“You really are a good actor if you can pretend to be in love with Margot for an hour and a half,” Macy said. She fanned her cheeks. “Even still, that kiss was so romantic! I would love to have seen the real thing on heroes day.”

“Oh, come on. That kiss so didn’t happen in real life. The playwright just added it in for dramatic effect,” Marinette said.

“How do you know?” Adrien quirked a brow.

“I- just Ladybug is always saying in interviews that they’re not a couple, so of course they didn’t kiss.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh, that’s just a cover story. They are totally in love. Chat Noir is head-over-heels for Ladybug, and she just hides her feelings so Hawkmoth can’t use it against them,” Macy said, not bothering to mask the ‘duh’ in her voice.

Marinette rolled her eyes. If only they knew.

When they arrived at Eliott’s yacht, her friends continued their chatter, and a small smile curled on Marinette’s lips. She really was lucky to have them, even if they all believed Ladybug was in love with Chat Noir—she’d convince them eventually. After everything that happened with Lila, Marinette was spiraling, feeling unappreciated, abandoned, and angry. Martin and Eliott said she helped them, but truthfully, their friendship saved her first. They showed her that real friends did exist, and that they don’t abandon one another.

Finally, her gaze rested on Adrien, the one thing she still had left from her old school. He’d grown quiet after their conversation. He flashed smiles and laughed when appropriate, but something hid behind those green eyes, an intensity Marinette had never seen from him before. After a while, he disappeared from the party, and Marinette wondered if he’d gone home until she found him on the upper deck looking out over the Seine.

“I’ve always thought the Seine was prettier at night,” he remarked as she approached. “The reflection of the lights on the water calms me down.”

“Are you okay? You’ve been quiet ever since the limo ride,” Marinette said. She leaned against the railing next to him. His eyes were fixed ahead, barring her from the emotions brewing inside. Another gray wall with a locked door between them.

Finally, he flicked his gaze over to her, searching her face as if she were a puzzle that needed solving. He looked at her like that a lot nowadays. Several times when they spent time together, she’d catch him staring. A month ago, she would have done anything to get Adrien to look at her, but now as they stood only centimeters apart, eyes locked, she didn’t know what to say. Her heart fluttered.

The last time they hung out, Adrien almost kissed her—a fact that haunted her every day since. What did it mean? Was Adrien in love with her? Was he going to kiss her now? Oh god, she shouldn’t have eaten the Camembert from that cheese platter.

His eyes bore into her so intensely, she thought she was going to pass out, but instead of kissing her, he bit his lip and asked, “How are you holding up with everything?”

Blinking in surprise, she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m doing better now,” she said. “Some days are still rough, but I’m grateful for my friends. They’ve really helped me overcome everything.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot lately. I’m just glad you and I are still friends,” Adrien said softly. “You’re someone I don’t ever want to lose.”

Her cheeks warmed as he tucked a loose strand of hair into place. Taking a leap, she took a step toward him, curling her arms around his waist. He held her close, resting his head against hers.

“I’m really glad I still have you,” she whispered.

“You’ll always have me. I’ll always be watching out for you,” he said in her ear. “Always. I promise.”

♪♫♪ Careful ♪♫♪

“Hey, bestie.” Lila smiled as Alya approached their usual table at their favorite café. Her face fell when Alya flashed her a pensive frown. “Why the long face?”

“I talked to Ladybug yesterday,” she said. “She totally blew me off. I thought you said you were going to get me a private interview.”

“Oh no, I am so sorry, Alya!” Lila’s face fell into her hands. “I should have warned you, but I just don’t know what happened. I tried texting the private number Ladybug gave me, but she totally ghosted me. I don’t know what’s going on with her lately. She hasn’t been replying to me at all.”

How convenient.

Alya crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m having trouble believing you.”

“I’m not lying to you, Alya! Ladybug has been pulling away from me lately, and I don’t know why.” Lila’s lips curled into the perfect pout. “I find it really hurtful that you don’t trust me. I thought we were friends, but you’re starting to sound like Marinette.”

“We are, I just… I don’t know what to think anymore. I-” Alya averted her gaze with a sigh. “I need some time to clear my head, okay?”

“Of course. I know you have trust issues after what Marinette did to you, so I completely understand,” Lila said. “But please, don’t call me a liar like she used to. If you leave me, then everyone else will too.”

Alya chewed her cheek, searching Lila’s expression. Her eyes seemed so genuine that Alya almost apologized on the spot, but she knew that not everything in life was as it seemed. Be a journalist. Investigate.

“I gotta go,” she said. “My sisters want to see a movie this afternoon, and my parents are at work.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lila offered, but Alya held up a hand to stop her.

“That’s alright. I can handle it,” she said. “Thanks, though.”

Lila sank back into her chair with a pout. As Alya turned to leave, Lila’s face shriveled into a glare that sent a chill down her spine, but she kept walking. Maybe she imagined it. Her mind played all kinds of tricks on her lately. She only hoped the truth would reveal itself soon and free her from all of this doubt.

♪♫♪ happiness ♪♫♪

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ladybug sat on the edge of a roof, staring out over the city. She heard Chat Noir touch down behind her, but she didn’t turn around as he approached. Her head was drained, empty, lifeless as she stared ahead.

He didn’t question as he sat beside her. They knew each other well enough by now that she didn’t need to explain when she was upset. He just knew. The silence stretched on, but Chat Noir waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts.

“I knew it would happen,” she said finally. “I knew she would wonder.”

“Alya?”

Ladybug nodded. “I never told you, but she was Rena Rouge.”

Chat Noir’s mask raised, and Ladybug lowered her gaze to her lap.

“She must hate me now,” she murmured, lip quivering.

“You did replace her without an explanation,” he said pointedly.

“I had my reasons.” She swung her legs over the edge. “I need people that I trust by my side.”

“I wasn’t questioning your decision,” he said. “You know I trust you 100% no matter what.”

“I guess it’s not that I don’t trust her.” Ladybug sighed, chewing her lip. “I mean, I don’t doubt that she would still work with us, but she’s hanging out with Lila, and after everything…I can’t work with her.”

“I understand.” When Ladybug gave him a disbelieving look, he brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckle. “Really. I do, Bug.”

“I know it sounds selfish, but I can’t put my feelings aside,” she said. “I know we have a duty to protect the city, but if I can do that with someone else, then why go through the trouble?”

“No one’s asking you to.” When her face fell, Chat Noir reached out to cup her cheek. “Bug, you did the right thing. No one is doubting you. We need people we can work with and count on, and if Rena Rouge isn’t it, then it’s time for Malin to step in.”

She leaned against his shoulder, watching cars crawl up and down the street with sad eyes—a city full of people counting on her. They seemed so small from up here.

“It’s hard sometimes,” she said. “Having the whole city looking at you to fix all of their problems… The weight of the world gets so heavy.”

“Don’t worry about stepping on toes. We have to do what we can to save everyone, and we can’t do that if we’re working with people we can’t trust,” Chat Noir said. “It’s not selfish. It’s our job.”

Ladybug smiled, Chat Noir’s familiar warmth flooding her chest. Chat Noir could be sweet when he wanted. He could give Adrien a run for his money if he acted like this all the time. Nah, that was a stretch, but she’d always love Chat in her own way.

Ladybug stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, kitty.”

“You’re welcome.” He smirked, then added, “I just hope you’re not thinking of replacing me.”

“Of course not,” she giggled. “I know I can always count on you.”

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.” He leaned his head against hers, and they sat for several minutes, watching the city lights twinkle on the skyline.

She spent a lot of time leaning on blond boys lately, but in her defense, she had two of the best. Chat Noir trusted her even when she didn’t trust herself. Sure, he was goofy, full-of-himself, and his puns were terrible, but… Somedays she needed someone like that. Someone to make her laugh and roll her eyes. He was her best friend, and she hoped that even after they defeated Hawkmoth that they would always stay this close.

“Until next time, m’lady.” He bowed theatrically when they stood to leave. “I’m always here for you if you need me.”

“I know.” She pulled him in for a tight hug. “Thank you for being someone I can lean on. It means the world to me.”

“Of course, m’lady.”

Ladybug swooped down to the street, ducking behind an ad stand and letting her transformation drop. Clara’s presentation was in a week, and she was going to pull an all-nighter. Coffee was a must. She was getting close to finalizing a few of her designs, and now that she’d gotten everything off her chest about Alya, her mind was a lot clearer.

Rounding the corner, she crossed the street to a quaint little café before a waterfall of silky, red hair wiping a table in a dingy green apron caught her eye. Was that…

“Gabrielle?”

#mdcsp #mdcspr #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

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duker42 · 5 years

Note

(1/2) Hi lovely! I was wondering if you could write a scenario where like in the one-shot "Growing Up" Y/N is like a little sister to Levi & he looks out for her. Y/N knows what happens to girls in the underground, she knows how easily they can be taken advantage of by dirty violent men. She knows it could happen to her, but she doesn't want to be scared & have her first time be with a dirty violent man she doesn't know...

*****WARNING*****NSFW

💜Her First💜

Y/N looked down at her hands, nervous about her next question. Levi was cleaning his knife at the table, his tea cooling at his elbow.

She had been thinking about it a lot, losing her virginity. In the Underground where she lived; rape, violence and murder were everyday occurrences.

She was lucky, Levi having found her when he did. She was abandoned, like so many other children, left to her fate which would most likely be death. But fate had sent her the older boy, like her own prince from the few fairy tales she had heard.

Except her prince had a foul mouth, a brutal right hook and an obsession with keeping clean. Still, as she looked at the way he diligently worked the soft cloth over the blade, she wouldn’t want him any other way.

“What do you want, Y/N?” His voice was gruff, but that was just his manner. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the knife as he waited for her to answer him.

She was lucky Isabel and Farlan weren’t there, otherwise she would have never been able to get the words out.

“I want you to be my first, Levi.” She muttered, watching as his head whipped around so he could look at her.

His eyes went wide as he realized what she meant, her blush saying what her words couldn’t.

“No, I’m too old for you.” He stated flatly. His expression settling as he started to turn back to his knife.

“I’m almost 18, you know. Then I wouldn’t be too young. We’d both be of age. You’re only 5 years older than me.” Y/N continued. She wasn’t going to get shot down without putting up her best argument.

He turned back to her and his grey eyes studied her carefully. “Why me?”

Y/N looked away. “You know, if you hadn’t saved me, I would have already been in a whore house, or dead.”

She could sense him tense up at her words. But she kept on. “Every day there’s a new death, new rape. I don’t want to have my first time be ripped away by some disgusting vile creature.”

“That won’t happen.” His voice was dark, menacing as he thought about that.

“No guarantees in this world, Levi. You taught me that. I want my first time to be with someone I care about, someone who I know won’t hurt me.” She said, turning her orbs back to Levi.

They stared at each other for a moment, the silence heavy between them. “You don’t know that I would be any better.” He said, raising an eyebrow at her as if he’d made some grand point.

Y/N scoffed as she blushed again. “Margot talks sometimes.....she says of all her customers, you’re the one who doesn’t hurt her. You’re the one who makes her enjoy it too.”

Levi scowled. “She shouldn’t have been talking to you about that shit.” He ground out, his hand twisting in the cleaning cloth.

Y/N laughed lightly, making him glare at her. “I was being nosy. Besides, you can’t make me hang out with a prostitute and not hear things.”

Margot was the girl that Levi had come to prefer when he needed companionship. It had morphed into her staying with the girls when jobs were too hot for her and Isabel to go on. For some reason there were plenty of them that Levi hadn’t wanted them around for. She realized it most likely had to do with the more unsavory of the Underground.

He was quiet for a long time, lost in his own thoughts. She knew better than to press him for an answer, so she just waited patiently. Her nerves were jittery and she willed herself not to buckle under the weight of his scrutinizing gaze.

“I’ll think about it.” He answered finally.

Y/N nodded as he turned back to his task. It was all she could ask for.

~~~~~

“Happy Birthday, Y/N!” Isabel cried as she slid a small cake in front of the girl.

Y/N gasped as she saw the sugary confection that she knew had cost so much to buy. It was too much. “Oh! Isabel! You shouldn’t have.”

She jumped up to give the shorter red headed girl a fierce hug.

Isabel laughed. “I wasn’t me, Big Bro bought it.”

Y/N turned to look at Levi, who was staring at her blandly.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What? It’s a cake you little shit, not a crown jewel.” He muttered.

Y/N had hugged him, which he reluctantly accepted and split the cake into four pieces, sharing the delicious treat with her family as Levi poured them all fresh cups of tea.

They sat, laughing and talking for hours. Levi mainly sitting back and observing the easy conversation between Isabel, Y/N and Farlan. Eventually, Isabel and Farlan made their excuses and went to their rooms for the night, leaving Y/N and Levi alone in the kitchen.

Y/N gathered the plates and went to wash them. Birthday or not, cleaning up from dinner was her responsibility and she knew that washing the dishes would keep her busy until she worked up the courage to see if Levi had decided about her request.

She washed the dishes in silence, finishing up before turning back to where Levi was still sitting at the table, his tea getting cold as he read in the dim candle light.

“Levi, have you made your decision?” Y/N asked, coming to stand beside him so she could see his face.

He sighed and marked his place in the book before closing it and looking up at Y/N. He reached out and tugged on her wrist, pulling her down as he scooted his chair back so she sat on his lap.

Calloused fingers gripped her chin to turn her face to him. His eyes were intense, boring into hers as he opened his mouth to answer her.

“Why not Farlan?” He asked.

Y/N blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected that question. The idea had never even occurred to her.

“Farlan...no...I couldn’t.” Y/N stammered, trying to process what she was thinking.

His thumb was distracting her, tracing her lower lip gently as she spoke. He felt the small shudder run through her frame as he continued to caress the plump flesh.

“You’re sure you want this? You want to have sex with me?” Levi clarified. He didn’t want her to regret it, couldn’t live with the idea of her one day resenting him for touching her. “There’s no going back once it’s done.”

Y/N smiled at his sullen face, his eyes dark with some unspoken emotion. This was why she had chosen him. Why she entrusted everything she was to him. It was why she loved him.

“Yes.”

Her simple words got her a nod of reply. He stood up, bracing her weight in his arms as she tried not to squeak in surprise and wrapped her arm around his neck to hold on.

The book and tea cup were forgotten as Levi carried her into his room. She blinked in surprise, she had assumed he would have taken her to her room for this, but didn’t voice her comment as he laid her down on the bed.

She watched as a hunger stole over his face as he looked down on her. His eyes darkening until they seemed almost black. If it had been anyone else, she would have been frightened, but with Levi, it just sent bolts of heat through her system.

Levi groaned as he watched her watching him. She wanted him to touch her, asked him to give her what he had been wanting since she had started to develop. He had forced down the thoughts of Y/N, berating himself for being a pig for think of the girl that way. 5 years age difference wasn’t much, but it was a lifetime in the Underground. But she wanted him.

She watched as he leaned over, his knee resting beside her hip as he lowered himself on top of her gently. She thrilled at his weight, even though he kept most of it on his hands. His eyes darted down to her lips, his tongue poking out to wet his own before he came down to claim her mouth.

His mouth was hot, insistent as his lips pushed hers open. His tongue slipped inside, making her gasp as he touched it against hers. He groaned as she flicked her tongue against his and pushed his tongue deeper into her willing mouth. He lapped at her, their tongues dancing together as he sank down on her fully to push his arms under her back.

He spent a long time on her mouth, kissing and occasionally biting at her lips with his teeth until they were plump and bruised from his attention. Every kiss heightened her arousal, made the heat between her thighs grow, until she was restlessly shifting underneath him.

Levi pulled back and gave a small smirk at the bemused expression on Y/N’s face. He knew that unlike Margot, she wasn’t being paid to look like she was enjoying it, she really was.

He bit his lip as he stared down at her. He hadn’t visited Margot since the day Y/N had asked to sleep with her, hadn’t had an interest in anyone but the girl now under him. He was already throbbing with the need to take her, but knew he needed to spend extra time making sure she enjoyed her first time.

He made quick work of unbutton his shirt, relieved when he found her own hands working on her shirt. Slipping it off, he stopped and stared at her as she flicked the last button opened and pushed the material away from her breasts.

His mouth watered at the sight of her small dusky nipples, the smooth globes of her breast swaying as she leaned up to take off her shirt completely.

He hurriedly took off his boots and ripped at the buttons on his pants, flicking them open to drag them down his hips as she watched.

Her eyes widened as she saw his cock spring from his pants, hard and aching as it curled up towards his stomach. He didn’t want to laugh, but couldn’t help it for the look on her face. He reached for her boots as he reassured her. “It’ll fit.”

Y/N nodded solemnly as she unbuttoned her own trousers. He stopped her hands as he spoke. “Leave them.”

She didn’t question him, but her eyes demanded answers as she lay back. He finished pulling off her other boot and knelt in between her open legs.

“I want to take them off of you.” He said. His fingers, reaching for the edge of her pants, brushing against her skin as his hand curled around the material.

She lifted her hips for him, letting him drag the material down the smooth expanse of her body, revealing her sex to his waiting eyes.

He tossed the pants aside, his gaze roaming from her flushed face to her heaving breasts and down to the core of her femininity. She was utterly perfect and he was going to be the first, hopefully the only, to touch her.

Her pleasure in mind, he leaned up as his tongue snaked out to trace the darker skin of her aureola before pulling the pebbles tip of her breast into his mouth. He felt her arch up into his body as he pulled and suckled on her. Her hands shooting into the his hair to pull on it as she moaned his name.

His blood raced as he heard that tone, his name falling from her lips in that wanton way. He moved over to the other breast, showing it the same attention as its counter part as he shifted between her thighs, spreading them wider for what was to come.

He made his way down her body slowly, kissing and licking at her clean skin as he moved south. He knew she had bathed before dinner, grateful that she had given thought to his little quirks.

Her eyes were curious as his shoulders pushed her legs wider. He moved them up onto his back as he looked at the glistening folds of her sex beyond the neatly trimmed thatch of hair above it.

His orbs were trained on her as he leaned down, letting his tongue give her a thorough lick from the bottom of her entrance to the hood of her clit. He watched as her eyes closed and her head shot back, a loud moan filling the room.

She tasted fucking delicious, and he would happily spend all night right there if it meant pulling those sound from her. But his cock hung heavily, his length already screaming for release as he lapped at the bundle of nerves above her core.

Y/N had never felt so good. His tongue licking and probing all around her made her want to hold his head there and scream in pleasure. As he pulled her clit in between his teeth to toy with it, she arched up, pushing herself harder against his mouth. She felt his fingers running around the entrance to her pussy, gathering the moisture that had leaked out from her arousal before pushing inside gently.

Y/N cried out as his fingers gently pumped in and out of her, making her even wetter as head spread throughout her lower body at his touch. She felt her body start to tense up as he continued to concentrate on her clit, flicking it insistently with his tongue. She didn’t fight it, embracing the feeling as her orgasm slamming into her. Crying out, her back lifted off the bed as she came on his tongue, her walls clenching his fingers tight as pleasure made her entire body shake.

He worked her through it until she was gasping, pushing his head away as the pleasure got too intense for her to handle. He leaned back for a moment, letting her calm down before gently lapping at her again, enjoying the sweet tang of the juices she had released.

He finished and looked up at Y/N, his mouth and chin covered in her essence. He straightened to kneel between her thighs, his wet hand coming up to wrap around his cock and pump it, spreading her wetness around his length.

His eyes closed for a moment, enjoying knowing that in just a moment, it wouldn’t be her juices on his hand surrounding him, but her tight hot heat.

His ashen orbs opened again to lock onto her lust filled eyes. He had to make sure. “You ready? You can still back out.” He questioned.

When she reached for him to pull him down, he sighed in relief. He would have stopped if she wanted, a cold shower in his immediate future, but he couldn’t deny he wanted this too badly to complain. He felt his cock brush up against her core, nudging against the slick entrance to her innocence, to her womb. The place he want to be most in that moment.

He willed himself to be calm, move slowly as he lowered himself onto her body. His hips were held back by sheer will alone, keeping still from surging forward and seating himself into her body but teeth gritting determination.

He captured her lips in a gentle kiss that would belie the sharp thrust he gave. His hips flying forward and his cock driving into her body harshly, ripping through the barrier of her innocence and not stopping until he was fully sheathed, his cock nudged against her cervix.

He had moaned her name as he entered her. Not he wanted for her, pressing soft kisses against her neck and across her face as he murmured small words of comfort. She hadn’t cried out, but had gasped loudly when he had pierced her.

Her walls were throbbing around him, making him feel like he was a virgin himself again. The temptation to pump into her once before spilling himself into her overwhelming.

When she had nodded and started shifting underneath him, he had moved his hands to her thighs, wrapping her legs around him as he lifted up to start moving against her. Every stroke, every drive into her body was perfect.

She moved with him, matching his pace, his eagerness with her own enthusiasm. Her hips lifts and rotated against him as he slammed into her again and again. He had meant to be more gentle, moving as slow as possible, but Y/N and his own body had other plans.

She gripped his back, her nails digging into his skin as he moved, The nails clenching deeper into his skin as her walls tightened around him. He moved a hand under her back, lifting her higher to be able to thrust deeper into her tight walls.

The change of the angle made Y/N cry out, her pleasure filled calling of his name becoming a chant with every stroke of his cock. He felt the change, knew that she was close as her body started teaching around him.

He worked harder, snapping his hips faster into hers. Driving himself relentlessly into her body as he pushed her closer to the edge of madness. The last deep thrust pushed her over the edge, making her scream his name as her walls clamped down on him like a vice.

He closed his eyes in surrender as his own orgasm rushed through his body, making him shudder as he pulled away at the last possible moment, ripping his cock free of her body to pump his cum harmlessly onto her stomach has he gasped out her name.

He shifted, moving off of her to grab for the washcloth he had placed on his nightstand for this reason alone. He ignored her protests and blushing looks as he wiped away his release and cleaned her up before running a clean spot on the rag over his own sex.

Levi was too tired to do more than toss the rag in the direction of the dirty clothes, something completely out of character for him. He couldn’t help it in that moment. He wanted to lay with Y/N and absorb the after effects of their time together before he moved again.

He rolled onto his back and hauled her up against him, his hand lazily stroking her thigh that was draped across his groin. He was never one for cuddling after sex, but then again, he had never been with Y/N. Levi wanted to stay here, wrapped in the bliss of their encounter.

Y/N sighed against him, his hand moving up to smooth her hair away from her face. “Thank you.” She whispered against the curve of his neck.

He smiled as he heard her breathing relax, knowing that she had already fallen asleep against him. He was proud to be her first. He wanted to be her last, and he would do his damnedest to convince her that it was right, that they were right together.

Levi drifted off to sleep with Y/N in his arms, exactly where he wanted her to stay.

Mobile MasterList

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hollywooduniversityalumnus · 4 years

Text

4. nothings and somethings

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Margot was never a fan of dark rides. It was quite understandable, considering her past, that she would hate twisting tracks in near-darkness, swallowed up in dimly lit scenery, and carried along in jerky carts past fantasy backdrops and jolting creature animatronics, as if the glossy-painted bunnies and bears would distract her from what lurked just beyond the backdrops. On her first and only trip to Disneyland, she’d staunchly refused to squeeze into a Peter Pan flight carriage. Instead, Miss Peaches paid for an overpriced ice cream that melted quickly under the sweltering sun that Margot refused to take refuge from. After all that time waiting in the dark for someone who would never return, she made a point to surround herself with light.

So, of course, Bianca lured her into the Riding Hood ride at Fairy Kingdom. The formal was well underway, and Lisa’s concert was due to begin at any moment, but the celebutante - and daughter of the most manipulative man Margot had ever met – knew how to get her away from the spotlight.

Without one of her borrowed designer heels to complete her outfit, Margot had no other choice but to retrieve it. Even if it meant doing what she couldn’t bring herself to do before.

“See you never,” Bianca said saccharinely, slapping the ‘start’ button at the operator’s booth with a flourish.

A garishly painted car with Squeaky the Squirrel – and her very expensive, borrowed-from-the-designer pure white G. Lass shoe – lurched forward, slipping through the large archway into darkness. Margot squinted, but couldn’t make out any shapes through the arch.

Bianca blew a sarcastic kiss as she flounced away.

A red-and-white checkered car flanking a particularly terrifying bust of Madame Wolfe on the hood appeared on the tracks, squealing to a stop by the booth. Margot slipped into the final seat of the car, just as it too lurched forward and made its way through the archway.

She was quickly engulfed in the pitch-black. She stilled, her hands gripping the safety bar in front of her. No sound at all; Bianca must’ve done the bare minimum to get the ride moving, and so the music and whatever else that had to be activated separately were not in operation.

Or something like that. Margot wasn’t well versed in . . . well, many things, but certainly not amusement park ride operations.

Margot took a deep breath, then another, trying her hardest not to simply sink down into the seat and begin her panic-chant. That would do her no good right now, especially since she wouldn’t believe it anyway.

No one was here. She was all alone. All alone in the dark, in this stupid ride designed for children that brought her right back to that barren hovel, that bare mattress scratchy against her cheek-

The ride dropped, and Margot leaned forward to wrap most of her arms around the safety bar as she waited for the car to level.

This, she thought, this is why I stayed outside all those years ago.

The car squealed beneath her as it continued moving through the dark. She felt the car ride a large turn, and then squeezed her eyes shut in preparation as an archway with a world bursting with light and sound and colours beyond it came into view.

Through the fake forest filled with candy colours and whirring Woodland Warriors with glassy eyes and jerky motions, she saw up ahead the car with Squeaky and the shoe. Despite her eyes watering from the sudden shift into light, she leapt out of the car and dashed through the fake forest, dodging branches and tiny animatronics donning “wooden” armor and weaponry. Cutting through a curve, Margot made it to the other side of the track just as the car with the shoe maneuvered around a nearby curve.

Stepping onto the car, she maneuvered her way through the rows. Finding the G. Lass heel, she slipped her foot back into it before collapsing into the seat behind her, exhausted from the effort of the chase.

It would take two other rooms – an admittedly riveting battle scene and the resulting Woodland Warrior celebration – before the car reappeared before the gaudy castle backdrop and operator’s booth at the loading dock. In that time, Margot conceded; the critters had kind-of realistic fur, and the backdrops were detailed enough to distract her through the rest of the ride.

But the cheesy nursery rhyme-y celebratory song the animatronics twisted to? Yeah, that was going to be stuck in her head forever now.

Yet another reason to despise Bianca.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Margot emerged from the Riding Hood ride sweaty and messy-haired. She prayed silently that the paparazzi snapping photos all evening had gotten distracted by another attendee, so the chances of May Gordon or another vulture reporter getting a shot of her looking disheveled were very low. She was a Penn Cattrall-approved actress now. Negative press might make him change his mind before they’d even sent her the script, and she didn’t want to lose such an amazing opportunity.

She followed a narrow stone-paved pathway that seemed to head towards the castle. In the distance, she could hear Lisa’s concert raging, the head-thrashing song she’d helped write threatening to shake the leaves off the surrounding trees. What had started as light rain quickly gained heft and speed, and Margot hugged herself as she took step by shivering step towards the brightly lit castle that seemed to glow beneath the star-speckled sky.

“S-so c-cold-”

Margot stopped short. A turn in the path had revealed that she wasn’t alone on it; a dark-haired man in a suit stood beneath an umbrella, gripping the handle with one hand while lazily scrolling on his phone with the other.

Thunder crashes across the sky, like a shout from the heavens, and he glanced up, starting when he saw her staring back at him.

She reckoned she must’ve been a sight to him: inky hair plastered to the sides of her face, makeup running down her face, her silver-blue dress dampened by the rapid rainfall. Of course, she assumed she looked awful. No setting spray in the world could withstand such a downpour, or at least not the one she used.

Meanwhile, he looked as put together as usual. His all-black suit was pristine, and if it weren’t for the furrowed brow and ever-present scowl on his face, she might’ve assumed he worked at the amusement park, or at least for the event that night.

“P-Professor,” she said.

His voice was hesitant, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Is - Are you all right, Miss Schuyler?”

She shrugged.

Thunder rolled over them again, making her jump.

Professor Hunt quickly made his way over to her and held his umbrella above them, offering reprieve from the sheets of rain that somehow wasn’t dampening the energy of Lisa’s concert crowd, if the shouts and screaming to the thumping music were anything to go by.

When her heart stopped pounding so loudly, and she started to feel a little less like a drowned rat, she chanced a look at him. His focus was back on his phone, though he was not scrolling, and appeared to be frowning at the screen.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice barely audible above the rain.

He didn’t take his eyes off his screen. “It’s nothing.”

She shook her head indignantly, dispelling drops of rainwater onto his suit. He wisely didn’t say anything about it, choosing instead to focus on her face as she replied.

“It’s not nothing. It’s you being nice. Maybe that means nothing to you, but it means something to me.”

“I would do this for any student caught in the rain,” he said blandly.\

“But I’m not just ‘any student.’” She dared to look him right in the eye. “You’ve driven me back to my dorm before. You’ve been stuck with me on a movie set. You’ve danced with me publicly-”

“-While disguised,” he hissed.

Margot rolled her eyes. “There’s something here, between us. Please don’t tell me you don’t know what it is.”

His voice was flat. “An umbrella.”

“Thomas.”

“Miss Schuyler-”

Another boom of thunder, and that one seemed to do the trick; from their position on the pathway, they could feel the rumble of running feet hurrying towards the shelter of the castle, the chatter of the crowd carrying over the bushes and trees that separated them from the pair huddled beneath an umbrella.

“My shoes!”

“Ugh, it took me two hours to get my hair done.”

“That Lisa Mermaid girl better not win the ‘One to Watch’ tonight. We’ve already watched her! She can’t possibly qualify.”

“I bet it’ll be that girl dressed up like a Neopets faerie. Niche much?”

“I thought she was Thumbelina.”

From beside her, Margot felt more than heard his deep sigh.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

It was a safer topic than what they were just discussing, and she could tell he was grateful for the switch. He stood a little taller, lifting the umbrella slightly so he can take a better look at the bustling crowd from their hiding spot.

“Despite, or perhaps because of, the University’s best efforts, this Fairy Kingdom Formal is quite possibly the most ridiculous event of the year. The media circus is out in full-force, and even students who’ve yet to make a name for themselves are acting like fools to catch their attention. Look around. Who among them deserves to be named someone to watch in the industry? Queen Titania? Ursula? Jack the Giant Slayer?” He squinted, perplexed, at one of the costumes. “Is that . . . the old woman who lived in the shoe? Who – or what – is that?”

Margot suppressed a giggle. “But look, you’re here too, right? Doesn’t that make you part of the problem?”

He peered down at her, thick eyebrows knitting together. “I . . . fair point.”

They stood in silence for another minute before she nudged him with her elbow and gestured for him to lean down.

Cupping a hand around his ear, she whispered, “You want to know what I think?”

Despite himself, he nodded.

Her voice was airy, reminiscent. “Everyone here wants to be something, but not everyone here will succeed.”

As she pulled away from him, he reached up to her cupped hand and took a surprisingly gentle hold of her wrist. She froze, eyes stuck on where his skin touched hers, and she wondered if he felt the same shockwave she did.

“Is that right?” he drawled.

She nodded.

“Aren’t you part of that problem, then? You clearly want to be seen as something by being here, all dressed up and looking every bit the damsel in distress. Though the shoes definitely are a . . . statement.”

He nodded at her shoes, and she felt herself blush at the realization that he’d noticed the G. Lass heels that hugged her feet like a second skin.

“You know I’m no damsel in distress.”

“So you were walking in the rain for fun?”

She shook her head at him, ready to retort, when she heard the chimes of the castle clock. Looking down at her shoes once more, she silently counted the chimes in her head.

Seven . . . eight . . . nine . . . ten . . . eleven . . . oh, no!

Margot’s eyes widened as the chimes for midnight began. Feeling her pulse quicken beneath his fingertips, Hunt dropped the wrist he had forgotten he was holding and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong, Margot?” he asked.

She was embarrassed to be on the verge of tears. “I’m too late. I’m supposed to have these shoes back to Ethan before midnight. I’m not even sure where Ethan is right now, and the shoes are all covered in mud, and I can’t get negative press right now-”

“Hey.” He moved to stand in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.”

Though she took a deep breath, she still rattled on. “But Ethan will get in trouble with the G. Lass! They told him that the shoes had to be back by midnight or else, and I don’t even know what ‘or else’ means to them!”

“G. Lass?” Hunt cocked his head to the side, as if listening intently. “The shoe designer?”

“No, the baker,” Margot snapped. “Of course, the shoe designer.”

And, in one perfectly fluid motion that startled Margot, Hunt reached up and pulled the umbrella closed before stepping to her side and offering his arm to her. Shocked at both the disappearance of the pounding rainfall and his sudden gesture, she hesitated to make a move.

“I’m certain Mister Blake will be waiting at the front entrance for you,” Hunt said calmly. “Furthermore, it’s getting late. I’d like to make sure you get there without any further delays.”

And, though she was confused by the sudden shift in topic and demeanor, she placed a hand upon his offered arm and matched his pace on the pathway to the castle.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

For a moment, Margot saw Ethan waiting by the limousine, forehead creased in worry and visible from far away.

And then her line of sight was overtaken by flashing lights and shouts that sounded both right beside her ear and far off in the distance. Blinking rapidly, she turned her head to look up at her professor, who steadfastly directed her to her agent and idling limo with a tense jaw and determined stare forward. More lights flashed; she squinted towards them to find that they were slowly being mobbed by paparazzi.

“Looks like they found you,” she said quietly.

Though his face was practically set in stone, his voice was sardonic. “Actually, it looks like they’ve found you. I overheard a few of them earlier . . . you’ve been the ‘One to Watch’ the moment you showed up.”

Startled, she glanced around them, her expression seemingly opening her up to the descending vultures. Reporters began to shout at her, from compliments to questions about the inspiration behind her costume, but she simply stared forward and strained her ears to hear Hunt mutter beside her.

“Even though that means literally nothing.”

And though the reporters and the camera flashes felt overwhelming, and the wrinkles on Ethan’s forehead seemed to deepen as she and Hunt reached the limo with the horde tailing after them, she felt a genuine smile play at her lips.

Ethan admonished, “Margot, the shoes-”

Hunt cleared his throat. “Mister Blake. Tell G. Lass upon returning the shoes that they never specified which midnight they were to be returned by.” At the young agent’s confused stare, he added, “I don’t question the idiosyncrasies of such an eclectic designer. But I do know how to work with them, and I have before. It’s an easy loophole to exploit. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got my own car to get to, and these photographers are tap-dancing on my last nerve.”

Ethan ushered Margot into the limo, sliding in to sit beside Addison and a shockingly sleepy Lisa. And then, just before Hunt closed the door for them, Margot caught his gaze.

“Thank you, Professor.” She hoped the small smile she gave him conveyed her gratitude. She punctuated it with a small wave, instantly feeling dorky at the gesture.

A corner of his mouth pulled up as he gave her a short nod in acknowledgement.

Then he was gone.

As the limo headed back to the school dorms, Margot leaned back into the buttery leather of the seats, her mind replaying that short nod and smile while her friends gossiped beside her.

#thomas hunt #thomas orson hunt #hollywood u #fanfiction #only fools fall for you

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lucastheunlucky · 4 years

Text

Shattered | self

Continuation of this. 12 hours later.

It was his sense of smell that came through first, he inhaled deeper than the sleep rhythm he had been forced into, changing the beep on the monitor when his heartbeat started elevating immediately. It reeked of metal and medicine, a sweet soft fragrance from someone familiar, and a pack of smokes. The last time he came out of such a rest, he was underground, buried in a shallow grave with so much pain, he could hardly see straight. But he was numb, and it didn't feel better. His eyes tightened closed before they opened slowly, taking in the room, and the nurse who was already inside manually checking his pulse and vitals. They were saying things to him, but he could only stare at the cop by the door, arms folded, his eyes on him in a way that made his heart thunder even more.

He made to move his right wrist, but it clanked against the pole on the bed with a groan of metal. The nurse jumped back, scared. His mind swam instantly; I'm not safe here-- get out. Get out. Get out.

"Where am I?" he asked rough in tone and deep.

"The hospital," the nurse responded. Lucas looked down at his arm wrapped up, and a dull ache and warmth filled the area.

"Why am I alive?" he asked, leaning into the pillow and the shift in drugs and the haze they were keeping in his blood disorienting. His immune system was abnormally robust though-- he's probably off the charts for quantity requirements. How long would this take to heal? How bad was it? Will he be able to cook?

"Hey, it's okay. Alright? You are just under watch because you had surgery. It went well, you have a lot of physical and occupation therapy ahead of you to get it back to strength. The doctor made sure the police knew this wasn’t, well what they thought, so just stay calm, okay? You've been out through the night, and you’re going to feel groggy.”

"This won’t stop," he whispered, and the nurse gave him a nervous look.

"Drink this," it was water in a cup, and Luke's throat was dry. He let them put the straw to his lips as he drank it down.

"Am I still under arrest?" he asked the nurse, and the man looked over at the cop before putting their back to them and speaking low. "I don't know. They haven't left since you were brought in. You aren’t allowed guests until the Sargent speaks to you."

Luke exhaled slowly. So he was alone and isolated still. Was this cop with that hunter? How could Luke know? Was it easy to pay them off? Was the man so respected that he could do this and not get caught? The nurse motioned he was going to check the circulation on his legs, and Luke didn't move or object as they examined him. His eyes swirled golden, and lip twitched in a partial snarl while he glared at the cop.

Was it worth it to break out of here so violently? He'd be in hiding forever. Could he deal with that again? Not seeing his friends--

Flashes of Otto in bed and bruised lips, Regan's surprise hug around his arms while she admitted something was cute, Miles' grin when they met up for lunch and that shocked expression when Luke made a joke, Ariana and him laughing while painting, Orion and Margot at the shop working hard and adding life to the lonely place, Mrs. Lee signing the business to him.

So many people surfaced in his mind, one after another until his chest ached, he felt a sob roll up. He could only press his face into the pillow to swallow it down, because his left arm felt numb, and his other cuffed to the bed.

"Hey, it's okay," the nurse was kind, but Lucas still wanted to die.

"I don't want to be here anymore."

"Lucas--"

"I can’t escape this-- why did you save me and put me back in this hell..." Luke turned to look at them. The beast under the surface. The nurse jumped back, his face paled and appeared surprised. The cop moved over, hand on a taser.

"Calm down-- Lucas, we aren’t doing this again," the cop seemed professional, but Lucas saw things that weren’t there, their lips twisting into that familiar smile then back to a frown. Everything in the room shifted, and tilted, and his heart pounded until he couldn’t breathe, and he felt something dangerous coil under his skin. The cop warned him again.

“If you don’t calm down, I will--”

The threat was like a hammer through glass, and it shattered his fragile state of mind. Lucas snapped, yanking against the handcuffs again, and they twisted with a groan on the softer metal of the bed. The cop started saying something on his radio, and the nurse called for back up. It was a whirlwind of people in a matter of seconds, and Lucas was screaming. Pushing them away from him. The equipment clattered to the ground, the bed toppled over, and people-- so many shoved him to the ground like he was a rabid dog. But he wasn’t-- he just wanted out. He didn’t want to be here!

“Don’t leave me here with him!! LET ME OUT!! GET OFF!!”

“Grab his wounded arm, he’s going to damage it permanently, quick, quick!!! ” “No, we need more than that, it’s not enough-- shit, he’s strong for just waking up! Hold him still! Two more-- ”

He screamed and struggled when the world dimmed from the three needles in his skin, and his hand clenched into a fist as all he could do was look at the window, face pressed into the linoleum with a knee, the color of the morning sky burning into his conscious. Pain pulsed in his chest, but so did something else.

You survived again. I told you. He could hear the hunters voice like it was a whisper in his ear. His eyes weighed down, and Lucas exhaled.

#depression tw #suicide tw #asylum tw #x: selfie #x: shatter

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charlettebffxiv · 4 years

Text

Prompt #8: Clamour

The greatest instinct any true Gridanian citizen can have, is the one that curls the hairs on the back of your neck the closer you come to the dark edge of the Shroud. The dark border cut by light that breaks through the canopy, but does not creep beyond the shadowed edge. Charlotte felt that curl, even without the dense forest in view, her back turned to the thick sprawl of trees that came to an end just shy of the pathway they had strayed from. Only a few steps, the duties of the botany guild having brought them further from the village than any of them truly wanted to be. An aged tree, long dead with it’s trunk hollowed out by the myriad of creatures that had used it as home, had finally lost the last of its strength and collapsed across the path. Willow’s Heart had the closest contingent of botanists that could be called to clear it away, and they had been hacking at the massive log for suns. This was the third, and if they were quick, would be the last.

“Quickly now, the suns is on its way down and we’re almost through.” everyone felt the strain of the work, but it was their proximity to the uncharted edge of the forest that had even Bobocufu’s usual jubilance tempered. “Stay with your partners! Dylan! The other way around!” the tree itself was massive, it had to have been an ancient oak to grow to this size, forcing them to cut their way through it to open up the path, there being little hope to move it with the numbers they had. Dylan had been walking around the eastern side of the trunk, toward the dark edge, forgetting Bobocufu’s very specific instructions to only walk around the western side and keep our distance from the ‘darkline’ as she called it. Dylan caught himself halfway, looking up at the looming trees, the forest no thicker that side of the border than it was on theirs, but the shade from the canopy gave it a looming blackness. Like it was an open maw waiting for one of them to walk in before it snapped shut. The red-headed midlander froze, then quickly turned and jogged back, knees to chest as if he was trying to keep his ankles away from grasping hands. “Sorry! I lost myself in the work there for a moment!” their lalafell leader shaking her head as he ran past, toward the correct side. “Pay attention! Or we’ll lose you at the edge!” there was no threat, the Head Botanist observing and fully believing all the tales and superstitions that kept Gridanian’s with any sense from crossing into the dark forest. All that could be heard was the constant thud of axes, several people having come from the village to help them cut through the wood. Charlette and Maxim worked at the opposite side of the tree, both grunting and cutting, neither speaking.

Dylan arrived, panting and followed by two of the volunteers that had come with them, a burly highlander named Alfred and another Wildwood Elezen named Margot. “Break time, we’ll take over for the next few bells. Get some rest.” Maxim let his arms drop, axe resting as he groaned “Finally! My hands are numb.” Charlette flexed her own fingers, feeling blood rush back into the stiff digits. The constant impact of their axes took a toll in aches and pains that ran from the middle of her back to the tips of her fingers and she was as ready as Maxim sounded to give them a rest. Even so, when she turned to follow him toward the cart they had traveled on, the darkness that sat at the edge of her vision stoked the worry within her. A nagging desire to be away from the unknown shade and surrounded again by a green that’s familiar, one that didn’t threaten to harbour the horrors from her father’s stories. Maxim reached the cart long before her, dipping around to the back of it as he called out “You want something to eat? Dylan packed sandwiches.” The young hyur was no culinarian, but his sandwiches had a good reputation among the botanists and Dylan was always happy to make a fresh batch before they took to the forest. Cold, spiced meats with crisp lettuce between the soft, light bread from his mother’s bakery. “Yes, gods, please. I could eat a full-grown morbol, teeth and all. How much water is left? I need a refill.” but when she turned around the cart, Maxim was not listening to her nor searching for sandwiches. His head was turned to the forest, to a patch where several trees had grown up in a curve, their branches curling together like lover’s fingers in the canopy and forming a pitch-black hole between them. Like a portal. “Maxim?” Charlette asked walking up beside him. He raised a hand, palm-out, to silence her and stared for what felt like a full bell before he spoke. “You hear that?” Charlette heard nothing but the surprisingly spars sounds of the forest, a far away crow calling out, the rustle of leaves and the thump, thump, thump of axes working through the tree. “Hear what?” she watched where Maxim had pointed, hearing nothing and only seeing forest. “A flute, listen. There!” she turned her ear to the trees, trying to catch what he was claiming to hear. Nothing, still, and she had to wonder if this was just Maxim pulling a highly inappropriate joke. “I don’t hear anything Maxim. This isn’t funny.” her looked at her, not an ilm of his features giving away a single drop of mirth. “I’m not joking, just listen. It’s on the wind, like it’s being carried. I swear on my ax Charlette, it’s a flute. I can’t make-out the tune. Just listen.” and she did, stepping passed Maxim, eyes to the ground and she tried to focus. Elezen were known for their excellent sense of hearing, so it was not a strange situation for them to pick something up before the others, but she heard nothing. Rustle, thump, caw, perhaps the sound of flowing water far, far away from them and a breeze, cold against her sweat-damped skin and… “I hear something!” he was right, there as if carried by the soft wind was the unmistakable tone of a flute being played. It was almost imperceptible, but when she concentrated it grew stronger, the tune was, well “Whoever it is, they can’t be very good.” surprisingly Maxim didn’t even give her a supportive guffaw at her comment. “I’ve never heard anything like that. Not even when the bards are improvising. It sounds like a dying animal, but also like a song that I Just… don’t understand.” Charlette stepped a little closer, still keeping her distance from the edge. “Gods, Maxim, is it coming from the other side of the darkline?” whoever was playing had chosen a terrible place to do so. Unless it was something else. Charlotte’s wondering was cut short however, as a new instrument joined the wailing tones of the flute; a drum. It’s beat was ponderous, with wide gaps between each one as if whoever was playing it was doing so painfully slowly. Thump… thump… thump… Charlette counted each beat with the tap of a finger against her thigh. “Maxim! The drum, do you hear it!” her voice sounded strange, high-pitched and unlike her own. She sounded scared, but she didn’t feel fear. Only the dread she had carried the entire day, the dread that grew now as those branches reached toward her. Maxim said nothing, but the drums grew louder, the flute following its example. Were they marching towards them? She watched the dark passage between the branches, waiting for them come through, a brave band of bards that thought inspiration would be found beyond the known green. But the tune never changed, a melody never appeared, the drums never found their rhythm even as the beat grew faster and louder. It thrummed in her ears, but no one passed through the portal, the only thing that grew was the black shadows that caste longer and longer out toward her. THRUM, THUMP, THRUM, THUMP, thrum, THUMP, THUMP, thrum, thrum, THRUM. “Maxim?” Charlotte’s eyes watered, her ears felt as if they might bleed from the cutting cacophony that rung all around her. But she could feel someone approach from behind her, hear the crack of steps against dry leaves. “Maxim?!” she couldn’t close her eyes, her fingers tapping against her thighs to match the unmatchable clamour of the drums. She couldn’t cease the tapping, the shadows had taken her arms from her. Maxim’s voice followed as she felt a cold chin rest against her shoulder, an icy cheek pressed against hers all while her vision never strayed from the growing black hole that wailed the song that rattled her bones. “We live within you.” the cold hands reached around her waist, pulling her close like they were hugging a spouse, the touch tender and gentle but so cold. “You can burn the house. Kill the patriarch. Forsake the lineage. But you will always be down there with us.” her heart seized, the beat suddenly silent as the drums themselves replaced it. The flute blared like she had her ear to the end of the instrument. The cold binding grip of Maxim was inescapable. Her thoughts of panic, the desperate need to call for help, the screaming animal within howling for her to lash out and run all twisted, faded away. No matter how much she tried to hold onto them, to act on them, it was fruitless. The loud song, the cold touch, and those words repeating over and over in her mind replaced every bit of sense she had of herself, of her place, all of it beaten from existence. Only the song, only the cold, only… “We live within you.” She jerked forward, a blaze of light filling her eyes as the thumping noise of crates banging against the edges of a cart sounded around her. Charlette raised a hand to protect her eyes, Maxim’s voice yelling out next to her. “Hey! Welcome back sleepy head.” he poked his elbow into her side, chuckling as Charlette struggled to orient herself, the cart she sat on jostling her around as it was pulled down the cobbled pathway. “Where are we?” she asked, the relief she felt in hearing her own voice again was pure warmth within her belly. “Nearly back. You nodded off there for a bit and the others finished up before our turn so we just let you nap it out. Poor thing, you look much less grouchy when you’re snoring, dribbling all over yourself. Like this.” and he laid back, snorting loudly with his mouth wide and his tongue out. “I don’t sleep like that.” Maxim giggling and nodding his head in protest. “Yes you do. Like a fancy hog in a skirt!” she swatted at him, Dylan laughing along with Maxim as he watched from inside the cart. The small man clambered over equipment, resting his chin on the edge of the wood panel that she and Maxim leaned against and looked up at Charlette. “Have any good dreams?” she didn’t answer, waving his question away and looking out at the far more comforting and familiar forest around them. Trying to ignore the tuneless thumping ringing in her ears.

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite

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phynxrizng · 8 years

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WHAT YOU WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT WITCHES, BUT WERE AFRAID TO ASK...

COPYLEFT: The entire content of all public pages in The Pagan Library (graphics, text and HTML) are free information, released under the terms of the GPL. All copyrighted items mentioned are the property of their respective owners, and no form of ownership or endorsement is implied. Last modified: June 12 2016 13:17:57 SOURCE, THE PAGAN LIBRARY What You Wanted to Know about Witches * *(but were afraid to ask) SOURCE, Raven This may answer some of the questions being asked about Wicca on PODSNet. If you print it up nice, it may also help in answering questions OFF PODSNet. Mind you, it is only ONE possible rendition; opinions are GUARANTEED to vary. About three years ago, I did a little PR flyer to hand out when Wiccans were doing public events (for instance, Beltane Maypole dancing in the local park) and curious passersby would ask just what the heck was going on. If you like the idea, use it - and feel free to adapt it as needed, for your own group. Written 1991 by Raven. NO COPYRIGHT. This is placed into the public domain. Q. Do you worship the Devil (Satan)? A. No, for three reasons. First, we don't venerate evil in any form: our chosen religion is a celebration and affirmation of life and living things, as opposed to their destruction or harm. As we believe that good or evil done will return upon the doer, this does not encourage doing evil. Second, Satan is a figure in Judeo-Christian beliefs - originally not even an opponent of Yahweh, but more like his prosecuting attorney (as in the Book of Job). Those who do worship Satan actually accept the later Christian theology, with Satan as Yahweh's opponent, but choose to support Satan's side of the battle. We are not Christians or Satanists, and do not accept their theology or worldview, so we would no more worship Satan than, for instance, Christians would worship the Aztec God Quetzalcoatl; he simply has no place in our beliefs. (We prefer the figure of Pan, who does have horns but is a much nicer fellow.) Third, we think history shows that, if you invest belief and emotion in any idea or thought-form, you give it strength and power in your own life - it becomes more real TO YOU. We have no wish to invite hostile entities into our lives and give them such power over us, which is why we don't venerate any form we consider evil. That's also why we're shocked to see how much energy some Christians invest in Satan. Q. Then why do I hear those things about you? A. "Devil-worship", baby-killing, cannibalism and all that? These are typical accusations made by one religion against another. The Syrians accused the Jews of ritual murders long before Christ; then the Romans accused the Christians (who at least claimed to be eating someone's body and blood every week); then the Christians accused the Jews and Muslims and every other religion; today different Christian denominations even accuse each other. Making wild accusations not only sells newspapers, and books, and movies; it helps drum up support for the Religion Of Your Choice. This is a cynical use of hate, fear, and ignorance, but as long as it works, it will be used. (And there will always be psychotics willing to live up to the image - then claim "the Devil made me do it.") Q. If not Christian theology, what do you believe in? A. Life. We see the entire Universe, all matter and energy, as bursting with life, loving its own living parts - including us - and gathered in one eternal dance. We try to catch the tune and dance to the beat. Sometimes we call the leading dancers Light and Dark, or Sun and Moon, or the Lord and the Lady, Cernunnos and Ceridwen, Pan and Diana, or by other names. These represent the duality in all things - male and female, yang and yin - neither side of which can be denied or ignored, even within ourselves. (We hope this helps us avoid the error that some worshippers of a single deity have made, such as thinking that "since God is all good and God is male, therefore anything female or feminine is evil.") Our feeling about the Gods is that they are teachers, family members, and fellow dancers: not some untouchable abstraction infinitely distant, but an intimate part of our own lives. Our feeling about other religions is that they, too, are part of the universal dance: not enemies, but fellow strugglers seeking as we do, to live and learn to keep time with the music. Q. What is this ceremony you're doing? A. It depends on the moment. You may be watching a circle dance, or a Maypole dance, or a feast of "cakes and ale", or just a group hug. (We like to have fun.) Possibly, since you were handed this, you're watching us "cast a circle". That's one of our basic religious ceremonies. When we "cast a circle", we mark off a space as dedicated and protected for our use, rather like Christians consecrating a church. (The difference is, we don't need a building, and we let the space go back to normal after we've used it.) Within this circle, we ask for the protection of guardians - call them the four elements of Air, Earth, Fire, and Water, or the four archangels Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, and Uriel - again, the names may vary. Then we invite the Lord and the Lady to be with us for a time. We have a nice visit, a little snack of cookies and wine (or fruit juice), and then everyone goes home. It's very friendly. Along the way, sometimes we ask for help with our problems, such as healing an injury or illness; if you believe in the power of prayer, it's the same sort of thing - but we try to put our own energies into the task, rather than asking someone else to do all the work. Q. How will what you are doing affect me? A. If you're not participating, then probably no more than any other religious service you watch from outside. If you're shocked by other religions, you might choose to be shocked by ours. (Ours is just out where you can see it, instead of hidden by walls.) Or you might choose to accept our part of the universal dance as valid if different from your own. You might even choose to participate - and people of good will are generally welcome among us. Even if you do participate, there's no reason to take any effect from our services that you don't choose to accept. Since - for our own sakes - we ask for nice things to happen, the biggest possible results involve no danger. If we ask for more harmony in the world, and your life becomes more harmonious, then you benefit from the same general effect as if a church's prayer for world peace had worked. (After that, if you don't like harmony, you could always work to make your own life more discordant; whatever suits you.) Q. Do all Witches practice the same way you do? A. There are about as many "denominations" of Witches as there are of Christians, and since no-one is forced to keep One True Orthodox Way, even a single group may do things differently from time to time. The two mottoes that apply here are "If it works, use it" - and "AN IT HARM NONE, do as you will." Q. How can I find out more about you? A. Ask one of us. We're easy to talk with. Or read some books. Good books include Vivianne Crowley's WICCA: the Old Religion in the New Age, Margot Adler's Drawing Down the Moon, Starhawk's The Spiral Dance, and Raymond Buckland's Complete Guide to Witchcraft. There's also a lot of shocking nonsense and pulp fiction out there - notably in movies, paperback thrillers, and the sort of newspapers sold at supermarket cash registers; we can only ask you to take anything you find there with a skeptical pinch of salt. (This was written in May 1991 as a general information handout for the use of the CUUPS group of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Please feel free to copy and adapt this for use by your own group.) Found in the pagan library.com REPOSTED BY, PHYNXRIZNG

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tamilundauthor · 6 years

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So I wrote not one but TWO mafia romance novellas. Before you go any further, if you haven’t read TRAPPED BY THE MOB, you really should. It’s an awesome book and the excerpt you’re about to read below will make hella more sense once you’ve finished the first book in the Detroit Mafia series.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

Anyway, FREED FROM THE MOB released on March 28, 2019. Spoiler alert for book one: Antonio, Phoebe, and Margot and her daughter, Nina, are all safe and have gone into hiding from Margot’s mafia boss ex-husband.

They think they’re safe.

But is anyone really, truly safe from the mob? Guess you gotta read FREED FROM THE MOB to find out!

In case you need incentive, here’s an excerpt…

~~*~~

HE’S JUST A COP

Margot half-filled two glasses with red wine and handed one to Antonio. “He’s a cop.”

“A detective,” Antonio corrected, accepting the drink and lifting it to his lips. “Who was definitely giving you the eye.” He waggled his brows.

“The eye? What in the world does that mean?”

Antonio motioned with the glass. “You know. The ‘I’m interested’ look. Or have you really been out of the dating game for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like when a guy expresses interest in you?”

She took a gulp of wine. “Well, since I was married to your brother, I think you know the answer to that one. I’ve been on one date since I divorced Gino four years ago, and we all know how that ended.”

He nodded. “Here in Nowhere, New Hampshire.”

Actually, the town was named Sleepyville.

Yes, really.

There were less than five thousand residents in this town, and most were friendly but not nosy. Two years ago, she, Nina, Antonio, and Phoebe fled Detroit in the middle of the night to escape the mob, and found this perfect house with plenty of room for all of them and a top-notch elementary school two blocks away. Antonio and Phoebe had a quiet wedding ceremony on the beach, and Margot joined the PTA and started volunteering at a nursing home two days a week. Phoebe recently began her tenure as president of the Sleepyville Gardening Club. Antonio continued to hold Gino’s money hostage and scoured the internet for information regarding his brother’s illegal empire.

So far, all had remained quiet since they walked away from Gino Sarvilli’s world.

“I love my life,” Margot said. “I don’t want to disrupt it.”

“By considering dating again? Gino’s in prison, Margot. And I’ve got his money under lock and key. He can’t get to it, which means he can’t get to us. So you’re free to finally have a life.”

“Maybe you’re right. But not with a cop. Sorry, detective. Which is even worse. Think about Proctor.”

“I’d really rather not.” Antonio wrinkled his nose and frowned. The detective from Detroit had been relentless in his pursuit of Margot’s ex-husband. He’d also been an ass to Margot and obnoxiously rude to Antonio, and probably everyone else in his life. He definitely wouldn’t win any personality contests.

Not like Detective RJ Karney. He’d been polite and a little bit awkward. Not to mention breathtakingly handsome.

“But he’s still a cop.”

“Sure. I mean, I assume he is. He closed the biggest case of his career two years ago. Why quit the force at that point?” Antonio mused.

“Not Proctor, silly. I’m talking about RJ. He’s a cop, which means it’s a bad idea for me to even think about his gorgeous blue eyes and all those muscles and that charming personality.”

“Sounds like you’ve already done a lot of thinking about him in the”—he glanced at his watch—“five hours since he left the house.”

She wrapped one arm around her stomach and wandered over to the window overlooking the backyard. The deck was surrounded by flowers, courtesy of Phoebe’s green thumb. They lined the driveway, too, and overflowed the planters attached to the wooden fence. A swing set and a trampoline were set up in the middle of the riot of sunny colors.

“This place is starting to feel like home,” she said. “I don’t want to take the chance of screwing this up.”

“Screwing what up?”

Margot glanced over her shoulder as Phoebe stepped into the room. Her hair was wet; she’d just taken a shower after playing outside in the dirt all day. She hugged Antonio from behind and dropped a kiss on his neck before pouring herself a glass of wine at the counter.

“Our life,” Margot murmured.

Phoebe shot a swift glance at Antonio. “Did Gino figure out how to get to his money?”

He shook his head. “Nope. All’s well on that front. But Margot met a guy earlier, and now she’s all stressed out about the idea that he might be interested in her.”

“You met a guy?” Phoebe asked. “That’s great. Isn’t it?”

“It would be, if he weren’t a police officer,” Margot replied. “What if he gets nosy and starts digging into our past? We’ve all had this last name for only two years. A detective can find that stuff out.”

“Why would he?” Antonio asked. “He has no reason to connect us to something that happened in another state two years ago. Margot, Nina, and Antonio Sarvilli, plus Phoebe Cavanaugh all disappeared off the face of the planet. They don’t exist anymore. And there’s no connection between them and us.” He dropped a hand onto Margot’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Quit worrying, Margot, and start enjoying yourself.”

***

The next afternoon, Margot headed up to the school to walk Nina home. As she passed a gray Challenger waiting in the pickup lane, the window rolled down and a masculine voice said, “Hey there, Margot.”

She bent slightly to get a better view of the person…RJ sitting in the driver’s seat. His dark hair was disheveled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it, but his pale blue eyes and smile were warm and friendly.

Maybe a little more than friendly.

“Er, hello, RJ.”

He climbed out of the car and ambled over. She hadn’t realized yesterday just how large the man was. He was as broad shouldered as Antonio, maybe even a little more so. Did he have a flat stomach under that polo shirt? Six-pack abs? That positively delectable V-shaped muscle over his hips?

Why the heck was she even wondering? Okay, yes, she was lonely, and yes, he was attractive, but he was also a cop, and despite Antonio’s reassurance last night, she wasn’t convinced the idea of dating someone in law enforcement was a good one.

“I’m guessing our daughters didn’t get into trouble today,” he said. He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and leaned against the car.

“That’s good. Nina’s usually a good girl. I’m not sure what provoked the pad flushing incident.”

RJ shrugged. “Curiosity, probably. And to be honest, my kid’s not a great influence. You probably don’t want yours hanging out with her.”

Margot stared at him. Was he serious? Did he really—?

“I’m kidding.” He lifted his hands, palms out, like he was surrendering.

“Oh. Right.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Sorry. I mean, they are only eight, right? They’re going to get into trouble sooner or later.”

“Yeah, our job as parents is to do our best to show them the right path and hope to hell they’re absorbing what we’re teaching them.”

Margot nodded.

The bell rang and, as if someone opened a dam, kids poured out of the building and raced every which way. Nina and Hillary came running toward them, hand in hand.

“Hey, Dad!”

“Hi, Mom!”

Nina wrapped her arms around Margot’s waist; Hillary gave her dad a high five.

“Ready to go, kiddo?” RJ asked.

“Can Nina come over and play for a little while? Please?”

“Yeah, can I, Mom? Can I? Please?”

“Er…” This was the first time Nina had asked to go to another child’s house since they moved to Sleepyville. He’s a cop, Margot. He isn’t going to hurt her. He isn’t going to kidnap her. He isn’t going to…

She cleared her throat. “Sure. Um, that’s fine.”

“It’s only because they want to ride in the back of a cop car,” RJ said. “I live in an apartment, so I’m sure your house is way more fun.”

“We’ll come to my house tomorrow,” Nina piped up.

“Oh,” Margot said. “Okay.”

“I’ll feed them dinner and bring her home around seven,” RJ said. “Does that work?”

She nodded. He ushered the girls into the back seat of his gray car. “All right, I’ll see you later.”

Margot nodded. Did he sound hopeful?

“Wait,” she blurted.

He paused in the act of opening the driver’s side door.

“Are you…are you married?” Why was she asking? He wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. And what did it matter?

He smiled. “Nope. Divorced for five years now.”

And then he hopped into the car and took off.

Margot walked home in a daze. As much as this new, warm fuzzy feeling in her chest felt, well, good, she was equally afraid of it. The first time she was attracted to a man since Gino and he was a cop. Oh, the irony.

Oh, the frustration.

“Where’s Nina?” Antonio asked when she stepped through the front door. He stood in the arched entryway to the dining room, holding a bag of chips in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“She, uh, went to a friend’s house. She’ll be home after dinner.”

“That’s great. I was getting a little worried given how long it seemed to be taking her to make friends here.”

“It’s RJ’s daughter. That detective.”

“Even better. Maybe you can both make a new friend.” He winked. “And by friend, I mean—”

“I know what you mean, and it isn’t happening.” No matter how many flips her belly did when she confirmed that he was a bachelor. A handsome and friendly bachelor, who, like Antonio said last night, had definitely been giving her the eye.

“Hey, take my word for it: the good ones make great marriage material.” He winked again and wandered into his office.

Later that evening, RJ dropped off Nina as Margot hovered at the base of the stairs, wringing her hands. God, why was she so damn nervous?

“Did you have a good time, kiddo?” Antonio asked.

Nina nodded vigorously. “RJ let me pick hard shell or soft shell tacos,” she announced. “He didn’t make me eat whatever you choose to make.”

RJ chuckled.

“It’s time for your bath,” Margot said.

“I’ll get her started,” Antonio said far too cheerfully, and before she could protest, he herded her little girl up the stairs.

RJ watched them until they disappeared at the top. “This feels a little like a set up.”

Margot started to run her hand through her hair but stopped when she realized she’d pulled it back into a bun. Ugh. Hopefully, she hadn’t tugged out the strands so that they were standing up every which way. “Um, he’s, um…”

“He just wants Margot to be happy,” Phoebe said, striding into the room with her arm outstretched. “I’m Phoebe. It’s nice to meet you.”

He shook her hand. “RJ Karney. Nice to meet you, too. I take it you’re Antonio’s wife?”

Phoebe nodded and grinned. “Yep. Almost two years now.”

“So does that make you two…?” RJ waved his finger between them.

“Sisters,” Margot blurted.

Phoebe furrowed her brow and Margot plastered a wide, fake smile on her face.

“Yep, we’re sisters.”

“Um, on that note, I’m going to head on upstairs,” Phoebe said, and she beat a hasty retreat, once again leaving Margot alone with RJ.

He pointed at the door. “Can we go outside and talk?”

Oh God. “Um, I guess.” She reluctantly followed him out onto the front porch.

“I’m getting some pretty weird vibes here. Like this strange combination of interest and fear,” he started. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Wow, you can seriously tell that?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been in law enforcement for fifteen years. Lots of training associated with reading people. So, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Not really. “Um…”

“Because I’m interested in you, too, Margot. But it feels like you’re afraid of something. Is it because I’m a cop?”

Actually, yes. “No, it’s just…It’s not you, it’s me.”

Hu chuckled. “Don’t usually get that until I’ve been dating a girl for a while. Certainly not before I’ve even asked her out on the first date.”

Margot wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her shorts. She needed to scare him off. But how?

Wait. Tell him the truth. Not all of it, of course, but there were certainly plenty of tidbits to choose from that wouldn’t lead him to the biggest and scariest truth of them all: that she had once been married to the mob. She just needed something to convince him that asking her out was a bad idea.

Especially since she was afraid she might say yes if he did.

She cleared her throat. “Nina was kidnapped two years ago. It was a very harrowing experience, as you can well imagine.”

“Holy shit,” RJ said, his eyes widening. “I’m glad you got her back safe and sound.”

“Me too.” She toyed with her necklace. “So I have lots of trust issues.”

“Not surprising. I take it the cops didn’t handle the case the way you wanted them to?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because your trust issues are directed at me, the person in the profession that’s supposed to protect kids from the experience you and Nina went through.”

Sort of. “I mean, at least we got her back, right?”

***

On Friday afternoon, Margot left the house with her hair styled, her face made up, and wearing a cute yellow sundress. She’d considered the red one, but it had felt a tad too sexy for something as basic as picking up her daughter after school.

“Where are you off to?” Phoebe asked from her perch in the flowerbed next to the front porch.

“School. To get Nina.”

Phoebe glanced at her watch. “School doesn’t let out for another thirty minutes.”

“Oh. Ah…” She smoothed the front of her dress.

Phoebe canted her head. “You’re hoping RJ will be there early too.”

“N-no.” Her shoulders slumped. “What the hell am I doing? Last night I tried to scare him off by telling him about Nina’s kidnapping, and now I’m dressing up to go pick her up from school because I know he’ll be there.”

“You told him about the kidnapping? About Gino?”

“I was vague on details. Didn’t mention Gino or how it happened, just that it did. I thought RJ would run away from someone with that sort of emotional baggage.”

“Wow, you’ve got scaring off guys down to an art form.”

“Clearly, I don’t, since it didn’t sway him. And now I’m all giddy about seeing him again when I should be avoiding him at all costs.”

“I don’t get why you’re trying to talk yourself out of this little crush you’ve developed. He seems like a nice guy.”

“A nice guy who happens to be a detective. And in case you forgot, we’re kind of sort of fugitives who illegally changed our identities so we could hide from the mob.”

“Well, when you put it that way… Or, you could just go with the flow and see what happens. It might not even go anywhere. After all, assuming he asks and you accept, this would be your first date in how long?”

Margot didn’t want to think about it. “Since the night before Gino kidnapped Nina. And that guy was a total loser. Not even worth all the stress Gino put me through.”

“See? You have a terrible track record. Why not let it run its course, since it probably won’t go anywhere?”

“Gee, thanks.”

Phoebe shrugged. “I’m not the best person to dole out advice anyway. After all, I married a mafia moneyman.”

Phoebe returned to tending to the flowers, and Margot hurried down the slate pavers toward the sidewalk. She could see the gray Charger parked in the pickup lane from a block away. Had RJ arrived early in hopes of having a little extra time to talk to her?

“Wow,” he said when she arrived at the school. He clamored out of his car and hurried to the curb. “You look great.”

She glanced down at her frock and willed her cheeks not to darken. “Thanks. You know, yesterday when the girls made their plans, I should have told you that I could walk them both home and you didn’t need to make the trip up here to pick Hillary up.”

“I’m definitely glad we didn’t think of that.”

She caught his eye and smiled, and then lowered her lashes. The blush was definitely a full force now. Her face probably resembled a tomato.

“So this is going to sound weird, maybe, or, I don’t know, forward, or…” She watched as he struggled to formulate words that actually made sense. “Listen, are you single? Because Nina said her dad wasn’t in the picture and you aren’t wearing a wedding ring and you asked me if I was married yesterday and I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

She chuckled, her cheeks still warm, even as she glanced at the ring finger that had been bare for four years now. “Maybe a little. And you’re correct that Nina’s father is not in the picture.”

“That’s good. No, I mean, it isn’t. I don’t think. Does he have visitation?”

She shook her head. Don’t stress, Margot. He’s just making conversation. He’s a single parent, too. “No. He doesn’t see her at all.”

“Jessica and I share custody. Fifty-fifty.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good. An amicable divorce is always a good thing when kids are involved.”

“Oh, trust me, it wasn’t amicable. But we’re trying to be civil, for Hill’s sake. One of these days it might actually happen, too.”

She giggled—dear God, she actually giggled—and then pretended to focus on pulling her phone out of her pocket to check the time.

“So I don’t suppose you’d be interested in maybe getting together sometime? Outside of the pickup line here at school, I mean.”

Crap. Her ploy hadn’t frightened him away. Of course, she’d countered with her flirty outfit, coy smiles, and deep blushes. The man clearly liked complicated women.

And damn, he was good looking. And she was lonely.

He was charming. And she deserved to go out on a date or two.

He was funny. And those eyes were practically begging her to say yes.

What was the harm in one date? Like Phoebe said, it probably wouldn’t go anywhere. What could she possibly have in common with a small town cop? It would probably be dinner, a few cocktails, nice conversation, and they’d part ways and go back to their respective lives. But at least she could say she’d finally gotten back into the dating game.

It was time. Past time.

“Sure. I’d love that.”

I KNOW YOU WANT TO KEEP READING! It’s right here (PS – It’s in KU too!): AMAZON

Enjoy!

You Gotta Read This Mafia Romance!! So I wrote not one but TWO mafia romance novellas. Before you go any further, if you haven't read…

#Detroit Mafia Romance #Freed from the Mob #New Release #RomCom #tami lund #Trapped by the Mob

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teahouses3 · 7 years

Text

Chapter 1

The view of that narrow street right in front of me is at best nauseous.

Ugly and melancholic are the right words to describe it. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying block the urge to vomit on top of my shoes. This catches Uncle Patrizio's attention — me immobile as a tree in full state of astonishment.

“Godness, you are sluggish” he clears his throat, glimpsing at me with the corners of his brown eyes.

I take a look at the alleway one more time before joining Uncle Pete, smiling at the expense of the only English who can use those words without looking like an ignorant. True, Uncle Pete isn’t the most pleasing personality in Burford, but that can’t be my problem right now and it won’t be for a whole winter, I force myself to remember that — no fights, no verbal fights, no fist fights — as my mom made very clear before she kicked me out of London.

“You better come in. Your aunt must’ve taken all the tea from the store while you’re on the train“ he runs over my shoulder with a thud. I start to get annoyed as I watch him leave the boxes with all my belongings in the middle of the street, after empting the car.

“Uncle Pete?” I call him by name twice and the third time he turns himself, raising his eyebrows as I point the stuffed cardboard boxes.

"I don’t know how things work out in the big city with your mother, but we're in Burford now, sweetheart. You can leave all this fancy trash here all night long and no one will take it. Leave everything as it is!” He ends the sentence screaming while I mention raising one of the boxes, making me jump in shock. I acknowledge uncle Pete is the only person who can call Louboutins and Manolo’s ‘fancy shit’.

I don’t waste a second and the next one I'm already on the trail of Uncle Pete down the damp street, clacking my teeth by the cold. Black clouds begin to form above our heads and a sudden furious stream of air spreads dry leaves all over my hair.

I look at the avenue in front of us, more precisely the house across the street. My new old home. The spare windows and the green poisonous ivy rising up the walls seem just like I remembered. I tight my coat on my chest and walk through the door my uncle held open.

“There she is! There it is!”

I am greeted with a tearful aunt and an effusive hug that almost dismounts me. When she finally sets me free, I’m rewarded with a kiss on the forehead and a lot of handshakes, one behind another. Apparently, aunt Margot had summoned the whole hall of English relatives for my welcome tea, which gave me no choice but sitting on the edge of the table and smile a little.

The house is not that bad afterall, and it’s exactly as I remembered from my childhood. Everything was made of wood, the floor, the walls. The sheep wool carpet tickle my feet and I’m not too impressed with the moose head above the fireplace — once it was a bear.

They all ask me questions about London and about my mother. I try my best to answer everything, although my displeasure is so big it could fill the whole room. My cousin Irina is the first one to notice, because she simply leaves me alone with that subject. I really like her, and the last time I've seen her she still lived in this house with my uncles. I must’ve been about five years old at that time, and now she lives two streets above with her boyfriend, Liam, who happens to be sipping on a cup of tea the chair next to me.

Taehyung, her brother and my cousin, is probably my age and the one who shot me the most with his piercing intrusive questions, which is not so inconvenient afterall as most of them only involve Glastonbury and if I have seen any Beatle in person.

Few minutes after, he slipped by my side and told me he left the house two weeks ago. “Freedom, Twiggy” he dripped milk in his tea and spilled his cup as if it was whiskey. I don’t have enough time to mock his awful mannerisms or censure the use of my childhood nickname before he can continue “Why did you come back to this one-horse town anyways? Burford didn’t miss you, I did.”

“You tell me” I smile back. I wish I could tell him why I came.

“I came to see you. And to get some clean t-shirts” he smirks “You can have my room if you want. It’s full of bats at night.”

“Funny you” I give him an unentusiasthic laugh but end up smiling too “And will you ever come back?” I ask. At this point, my previous responses seemed to have quenched the family's curious thirst and no one pays any attention to my conversation with Taehyung as they discuss the informations I gave, like that one time I saw Robert De Niro in person and the list goes on.

He ponders a bit and I wait for some sordid detail of the remote Burford clan as I devour a cookie, propped up against the chair guard.

“Not really” Tae hesitates. “I don’t know if my mother wants me back. And I'm in a good place now” he smiles excitedly.

“You're disappointing me” I sigh, in fact disappointed with the lack of thoroughness in the story. “And where is that place, may I know?”

“A friend's house. Well, it's not exactly a house” my eyebrows rise “It's a bar, and I stay in the garage. I can work there during the day.”

“A tavern, is that it?” I wrinkle my nose. He nods, just to tease me. Taehyung laughs and gets up, wiping the corners of his lips with a napkin. He wears an elegant overcoat and I can say he became a man at least charming. I wonder how someone so handsome and gentle could have Uncle Pete's genes.

“I'm leaving. You can come with me if you want to. You’re at your own risk” we both look out the window. Stormy clouds covered the last remnant of blue sky.

I didn’t want to sleep outside the first day living with my uncles, but it happens that I didn’t wanted to be alone too.

And I missed Taehyung. God, how I did. And still I couldn’t list one single excuse why didn’t I call him this whole time.

“So that's what you wear at the big city when it snows?” Taehyung gestured to my feet, mocking my heels as soon as we left.

And he was right. Those shoes crave into the snow and it’s not the easiest activity in the world walking on them, but I'm getting the hang of it as we pass through the village. The streets are completely covered by a thick layer of snow.

“So now you work? Like for real?” I smirk under my scarf and gladly he doesn’t see. Tae thinks a little before answering me, running his hand through his hair.

“It's not a job” he explains. "It's more like a gig than a job” I nod and he looks at me, his blue irises sparkling as a smile come to light on his lips. “And I don’t have to do almost anything as Yoongi is the one taking care of everything.”

“Yoongi?”

“Exactly. The house’s friend I told you about. His father owns the place” he now has his thin lips pressed on a slight smile. I can see the hangover in his eyes half a block away.

“Nice.”

That's all I'm saying. Get to know someone else in this city apart my relatives would be a pain in the ass, but at this point it's pretty obvious Taehyung would show me to as many people as he could, like I was some kind of trophy or something.

At the center of the town, I feel stuck in a Christmas movie. The weather remains ugly, and most businesses are closing their doors — except for a bar that at first glance seems to be something you could easily find at Knockturn Alley, in Harry Potter.

Between the spare windows of two stores, a well-crafted metal plate hung on the wall indicates ‘Beer’ in a careful calligraphy. The entrance of the bar has a staircase and my stomach wraps up as soon as Taehyung goes up without hesitation. He looks back. “Are you coming in?”

“Right behind you” I murmur as my heel hits the stairs. At the first glance inside the place I’m already amazed.

The space is made with an overlap of stones, which makes a perfect cozy contrast to the inhuman chill outside, and I immediately feel the urge to take off my scarf. Tae hangs it on the coat rack, along with his overcoat, revealing a moss-green sweater underneath.

He shakes the snow from his feet at the base of the stone fireplace. The ceiling is made of wood and the only sparse lighting comes from the chandelier, subtle and almost non-existent compared to the fire, and behind the counter, an UK flag has been harshly nailed to the wall, near the most diverse wine cellar i’ve ever seen. But besides all of that, the tavern is like any other ordinary bar, with tables and chairs placed in the corners of the place. It’s not so bad. It’s rustic. And very English.

“Yoongi, are you there? I want a beer” Tae yells through the door behind the counter, tapping the palm of his hand on the wood.

In London people aren’t used to leave their establishments alone. Not for a second. But here, in the parallel reality, it doesn’t seem to happen many robberies or people drunk not willing to pay the bills. Odd.

I keep running my fingers through the pictures and trying not to laugh until Taehyung realizes we're alone and the barman must’ve left. For a moment, I thought I was right.

Then a blonde hair appears behind the counter, passing straight through the door without looking at us. My heart jumps in surprise.

Black shirt, unbuttoned on the collar and sleeves held up to the forearm, he doesn’t bother to look up to us not even a single time. What a jerk, it’s my first thought, but then even with the roaring fire in front of me my spine still freezes in the presence of that boy. Part because of his tattooed arms and whitish hair, part because he really doesn’t even bother. For real.

“Then just get one yourself” the guy mutters, looking quite pissed. His tattooed fingers quickly pick up a mug on the counter and he turns his back, filling it with something in a barrel.

When he turns again, our eyes briefly met and he stops abruptly, spilling a little foam on the edge of the mug with the bump.

I can’t read his expression, and at the end I'm convinced there's no expression at all. Then he wrinkles his forehead and when he speaks I’m aldready regretful I put my feet out of home.

“Who is this?” and looks at Taehyung, making it clear he wasn’t talking to me.

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