#and tan was last place and it made me sad :(

[calamitydawning]

a calamity + tan !! happy pride!!

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 3

Storm Warning

Azriel Eris x Reader

We’ve got a time jump and are swapping points of view for this chapter y’all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

3 months later

Eris Vanserra hated the Summer Court. The humidity anywhere outside of the temperature regulated zones of Adriata, the way his hair clung to his forehead and caused curls to form in his otherwise immaculate hair, but most of all it was just insulting to be so bothered by the heat itself when he quite literally had fire in his veins. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

Tarquin strode alongside Eris through the open air lower levels of his keep, three of his guards and two of Eris’ own flanking them several feet behind, one could almost forget they were there if not for the “click clack” of feet echoing through the halls. Eris would be lying if he said he didn’t have to try very hard to focus on the mundane talk of trade routes and port authorities instead of getting lost to the sounds of crashing waves and gulls outside.

Tarquin broached the riveting subject of tariffs on imports from the continent as the first rumble of thunder boomed in the distance. Now that - Eris enjoyed that aspect of the court. Autumn had no shortage of rain but the turbulence of storms often mirrored his own inner peril - made him feel less alone in the world. And truthfully, there was nothing like taking cover from the rain and listening to the rumble outside, watching the lightning dance across the skies as the loud cracks of thunder commanded the attention of anyone within earshot.

“Have your people felt the same effects, High Lord?” Tarquin broke Eris from yet another drift of his thoughts. He really should have brought a secretary or advisor along for this meeting.

Sparing Eris from the embarrassment of asking Tarquin to repeat his last three minutes of speech a cry broke through the hall. The battle cry of a…. Child?

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Followed by a yelp of “ow!”

Eris’ head jerked as he found himself drifting toward the action.

Turning a corner he found a woman laying on the ground, curled into a ball - a child of no more than 10 with a large jagged stick standing over her with his chest puffed out, pure smug joy on his face.

Eris looked to Tarquin who only grinned with satisfaction. Eris gaped before Tarquin quietly whispered, “just watch.”

The woman didn’t move. The child’s look of satisfaction slowly turning to that of concern as she lay there. He bent over the woman placing a hand on her shoulder, his brows knit together. “Lady L/N?”

So focused on the woman on the ground before him, the boy didn’t notice her arm slowly sneak around him and “Oof!” The kid let out a startled breath as she grabbed his ankle, ripping it out from beneath him, effectively leaving the child on his behind.

The female lept up into a crouching position. Her tanned, muscled thighs pushing her up to stand effortlessly. “And that, little ones, is why you never let your guard down with an adversary.”

Eris turned, wondering how he could have missed the group of children sitting on the other end of the room watching the scene unfold.

The boy remained on his behind, hands resting on his forehead in defeat.

“Hey-“ She reached a hand out to help him up. “You did a great job. You quite literally swept me off my feet! Nobody has done that in quite some time.” She paused, sadness twisting her features as if her own words struck her before shifting back to that of a proud instructor. “In fact - I have something for you.”

She reached into the pocket of her calf-length, flowy pants and reaching handing him a shell. “Add this to your leather strap.” She tapped a leather bracelet on his wrist, one shell already strung on it. “You did great, kid.” The boy gave her a genuine smile as he returned to the rest of his classmates.

Eris shifted involuntarily. How much had he wished for someone to say those words to him when he was a child?

Tarquin chuckled “An excellent motivator. Shells. Who knew?”

Eris gave a small smile - brief but genuine before adjusting back into his usual mask. The instructor turned to face them and cauldron damn him if she wasn’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. Radiant skin that came from plenty of time in the sun, silky hair that practically begged to have fingers run through it, a soft and curvy yet toned build. A body that told him she indulged herself in what she enjoyed but was active enough to define her plush features, likely blessed with great genetics - lithe yet perfectly squeezable in all his favorite places.

“High Lord.” Her voice carried to him like an ocean breeze. She bowed her head in a respectful greeting, long lashes fluttering. “How may I be of service?”

“Lady L/N,” Tarquin beamed. “It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

Her brow puzzled for a brief moment before bowing her head again. “It’s an honor to meet you, High Lord.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, lady.” Eris replied sincerely, meeting her bright eyes. “I didn’t realize Tarquin was hoarding such beauty within his keep.”

“We have many treasures in our court, High Lord. She is one of our brightest.”

Rather than blushing, the female held her head high, giving a polite “Thank you, High Lord.”

“We must be getting to lunch now. Have a pleasant rest of your class, Lady L/N.” He turned to the children with a stern look “And children, behave for her.” following the reminder with a smile and cheeky wink.

—————

It was hours later that Eris was released from meetings for the day. Unfortunately, there was still more to be discussed that would have to wait for tomorrow. Making the way to his guest suite, Eris found himself wondering about the instructor from earlier. Something about her felt vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.

After changing out of his stuffy clothes into something more befitting of the climate, Eris paced his room. He’d forgotten how much longer daylight lasted here than in his own court, with several hours remaining before dusk. He supposed he could brave the heat and take a stroll through the palace grounds, preferably without his entourage of guards.

Relieving the pair from their duties, Eris wandered through the gardens and toward a small grove of trees on the other side of the palace grounds. He could hear running water from a garden tributary that likely connected into the river that emptied into Adriata’s harbor.

Sauntering through the grove, he was pleased to find reprieve from the heat, the cool air wafting off of the stream and shade from the trees turning the grove into a private oasis. It wasn’t particularly trekked through. “Finally.” he thought to himself. A moment of peace.

Situating himself on an iron bench, Eris looked up, only to find that through a thicket of cattails, Lady L/N was standing on a rock upstream, eyes closed and balancing on one leg. Given her steady, intentional breathing he supposed she was meditating. It was odd - seeing her like this - strangely intimate to see someone in such an isolated state of catharsis, unaware of his own presence before her. The sun rays shone through cracks in the leaves, shrouding her in tiny fragments of light that made her tanned skin near golden. Her hair was wind blown from the breeze winding through the grove off the ocean, and she’d changed into a thin cotton sundress. Gods, maybe the Summer Court wasn’t so bad after all. The way it effortlessly flowed over her body perfectly accentuating her ample curves, and those tanned, toned legs - yeah, he should probably leave.

After momentary internal warring he began to stand but before he could sneak off, she gasped. Clutching her arms to her rib cage. “MOTHER FUCKER!” she screamed. Vulgar words coming from such a pretty mouth.

What an interesting method of meditation.

She took several breaths before resuming her position. Another minute went by when she audibly growled. “Bastard!!” She clutched herself again, keeling over. Finally she sat down on the rock, the hem of her dress soaking in the stream’s rippling water, and pressed her head into her hands. Eris thought she was crying.

He really should leave but - memories of his mother crying over the years flashed into his mind. All the years that she only had he or Lucien to console her, kindered spirits brought together by Beron’s casual cruelty. His other brothers being the emotionally void carbon copies of their father they were, paid no mind to their mother’s plight.

Yet still, he didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. She likely didn’t want him bothering her.

Against his better judgement, he found himself drawn in by her familiarity and approached. As he drew closer, he realized her sobs were not sobs at all. She was muttering the raunchiest, most vile slew of curses that he’d ever heard. Lucien would enjoy this female.

As he approached, she jerked her head up. The lovely, collected face from earlier twisted into one of contempt. He wondered if she knew that, that face was, well, adorable like a fierce little kitten. Although, something told him to tread carefully. She may look adorable but he’d bet good coin that her bite matched that of a lions.

“What do you want?” She spat.

Eris only smirked. “And here I thought you were a lady.”

Baiting her. Genius idea, Eris.

“Only within the palace.”

“You’re still on palace grounds.” Shrugging with the statement, Eris put his hands in his pockets - damn these Summer Court linens really were comfortable.

“Well, I was alone until you intruded.” she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

“Did you win Tarquin’s good graces with such manners?”

Her expression filled with ire as she looked up at him. “Did you take your throne by being such a prick?”

Eris couldn’t help but laugh at her bravado. This female either REALLY didn’t like him or truly didn’t care about consequences. “Ah, so you do know who I am.”

“You’re a High Lord. Of course I know-“

Her words cut off as she clutched her ribs again, tighter this time. A shudder escaping her. This time the pain seemed to last longer. And this time he could have sworn her voice cracked as she swore.

“Hey” Eris stepped into the creek, not bothering to step out of his sandals. Before he could hesitate he crouched down before her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.”

The thing was, he recognized that pain well. It has been centuries but damn he remembered it so clearly.

“Breathe through it. Think of something that makes you smile.”

She clutched herself harder, shaking her head. “Think of the look on your student’s face when you gave him that shell today.”

She breathed in deeply this time instead of letting out another curse.

“Good. Hold for three beats.”

“Now let the breath out.”

She breathed out. “In again.” He instructed. She followed suit. “Now out.”

As her breath steadied, she met his eyes - momentarily soft, a little broken, before ire crossed them again.

“For fucks sake, High Lord.” She spat. “I came here to meditate. I know how to breathe.”

She sure as shit seemed to have forgotten how to for a moment there, but he kept that to himself.

He only let out a soft laugh.

“There she is.”

She scowled in return.

“So, Lady L/N” he began, standing and extending a hand to help her up.

“Y/N.” She interjected, taking his hand. “Call me Y/N.”

Y/N. Fitting, he thought. The kind of name a tropical storm would be given.

Wait. Y/N L/N. Oh, he knew exactly why she was so familiar now. No wonder she’d given him that puzzled look in the palace. And, if Eris recalled correctly, his brother actually was rather fond of her - in a friendly and platonic sort of way. Though in his tales of the Night Court he’d certainly never mentioned the fact that she looked like a gods damned deity.

He led her out of the creek, not quite ready to drop her delicate hand. “So, Y/N, tell me about this idiot mate that let the Summer Court’s brightest treasure go.”

She gaped, jaw dropping into a look of genuine shock. “How-“

“I had one too. I believe you know her.”

—————

Eris and Y/N spent hours talking in the grove. He gave her all the details of his mate, Morrigan. How it killed him to leave her that fated day. Had he touched her, his mate, Beron would have claimed her as Autumn Court property requiring a Blood Duel for the Night Court to retrieve her. Though, Beron would have ensured she never left unharmed. That aside, Eris didn’t want that blood on her hands, the blood of a blood duel or any battles over her. He didn’t want it on his hands either. It killed him to feel her pain down the bond starting from their forced engagement and through the torture her father had inflicted upon her, and the trauma that lingered thereafter. The gut-wrenching, immobilizing pain that only a mate could feel shooting through to them.

He never wanted her to feel that pain. If it hurt him that badly to only feel it down the bond, he couldn’t imagine the strife she’d felt. He wanted to run to her, to comfort her, to tell her everything he couldn’t risk saying. He was too young to face the ramifications from his father and he had his mother and Lucien to protect in those days. So he protected her in the only way he knew how to at the time. Through cold, calculated indifference. He still regretted it.

As time went on, the mask he wore became heavier and heavier, burying that bond deeper within himself. It took him until after the war with Hybern to finally lay it all out to her. Y/N never knew any of that part of the story. She knew Mor and Eris had made amends but nothing of their bond, and she knew that Mor was happily committed to Emerie, an Illyrian female now. He was happy for his mate, as happy as a rejected mate could be.

Eris never claimed to have been in the right. In fact, what he did to Mor was wrong. The way he spoke to her as if she was no more than a common whore when facing her in front of his father at the High Lord’s meeting. Yes, it was an act but it was never okay. He’d live with that for the rest of his days. His apologies to her since never felt like enough.

Y/N empathized with Eris. He could see that she was torn but her gaze toward him softened although, never into that of pity. He liked that about her.

She shared the story of her mating bond with Azriel. And how the waves of anger and grief down the bond had increased in strength recently as she had continued healing. She laughed bitterly at the typical trajectory of females in her situation getting better over time while unfaithful males seemed to spiral as it went on. She didn’t say who he had cheated on her with but Eris had his suspicions. The Shadowsinger apparently had a thing for Vanserra mates. She laughed and cried over the hours they talked. They’d eventually ended up back in a palace seating area for a drink.

Eris hadn’t been so open with someone like this in so long that it felt foreign. Hell, opening up always felt unnatural for him. Perhaps he was stupid for sharing with her. After all, mating bonds could make people do crazy things. She could always take Azriel back and share the details of his little sob stories with the Night Court.

She’d occasionally let out a sharp breath as small jolts of emotion came rolling in. It was nearing dusk when she finally huffed, slapping her hands on her thighs saying, “Enough! This tea is weak. I need something stronger.” Pouring them each a glass of brandy, and another, and another.

As the conversation shifted from the heavier topics to lighter ones, Eris let it slip that he wasn’t fond of the summer court and found all of the sand and humidity to be unpleasant at best.

Her inhibitions were down and if Eris were being honest with himself, his were too. He hadn’t drank much since becoming a High Lord though he often felt the need for a stiff drink. No, there was too much work to be done and he was still getting his own inner circle acclimated. Trust was harder to give in the Autumn Court, especially after being under his father’s rule for so long. There were plenty of good people in the castle but just as many were corrupted under Beron’s rule. Weeding them out was consuming more of his time than anticipated.

Somehow, after their fourth drink, Y/N dragged him out onto the beach, determined to show him all the merits of the crusty, sand-infested shores.

Admittedly, her joy was contagious but he was going to make her work for any positive reaction.

“Okay!” She eagerly squealed. “First - sand castles! Have you ever built one?”

“I live in a castle.” Eris feigned boredom, inspecting his nails. “It seems unnecessary to build one out of… that.” his nose scrunched up, lip curling into a sneer as he gestured to the sand surrounding them.

“Ughhh.” Her eyes rolled back into her head as her little sun dress blew in the wind. And damn if he wouldn’t love to see her eyes going back into her head like that in other circumstances.

He was a gentlemale but a male nevertheless.

“Being High Lord doesn’t mean you have to be such a bore, but fine… No sand castles. Maybe next time!”

Next time. He liked the thought of that. My how far she’d come from practically snarling at him just this morning.

“Look!” She squealed, bringing her hands to her chest and clapping with excitement. “Dolphins! Now I know you don’t have those in the Autumn Court, Eris Vanserra.”

Fuck, his name sounded so good coming off of her lips.

He couldn’t resist smiling at her enthusiasm and then at the dolphins. They swam so peacefully in a pod through the harbor. One even let a young water wraith trail alongside it as a hand carefully gripped onto its dorsal fin as the creature pulled her along.

“The wraiths and dolphins coexist well together.” Y/N mused wistfully. “There���s a common misconception that they are territorial due to food supply but they have plenty in the harbor.”

She smiled softly. “The younger wraiths tend to bond with them and the dolphins have even been known to protect them from certain dangers.”

As the pair continued walking along the shore, the conversation occasionally faltered as Y/N would stare off distantly, as if looking for something that wasn’t there.

His heart ached for her. From what he’d gathered during their talk, she’d left the Shadowsinger, but the heart is slow to heal after losing a mate in any capacity.

Eris nudged her with his shoulder. “Hey little minx, where’d you go?”

Coming back to reality she halted. “Oh! Oh my gods. The sun is setting and you have to come with me! Hurry.”

She grabbed his wrist and he didn’t hesitate to follow along as she all but dragged him down the beach. “Hurry! We’ll miss them!”

They ran until reaching a secluded inlet of the bay. They climbed up a small rocky ledge where she sat, dangling her feet over the edge. “There’s an underwater cave-“ she breathed heavy, catching her breath. “here, beneath us and every night-“ another pause to breathe. “something magical happens as the sun sets.”

Eris, catching his own breath, waited patiently for more details but she only dropped a small pebble into the water and as she did, a rainbow of luminescent fish rippled to life below the surface. There had to be thousands of them, leisurely swimming out of the cave as if they were just waking up. Shades of bright pink, green, blue, orange, and purple lit up the small inlet. Eris was awestruck, so awestruck in fact that he didn’t hesitate planting his ass next to her on the crusty sand-coated ledge.

With a wave of her wrist she pulled a bottle of rum out from the pocket realm, tugging the cork out with her teeth and taking a swig, then handing it over to him.

They sat in silence as the remaining fish left the inlet and the remaining colors of the sunset disappeared into night. Clouds began rolling in as they drank and began chatting again. Much like that morning, thunder rolled in but this time he was disappointed to hear it. He didn’t want the evening to end, wasn’t ready to let her go quite yet.

He wished he’d had a warning before the ocean winds blew this wild, beautiful storm into his life that morning. Something to brace himself against the inevitable fallout of the precarious situation he found himself in. It was a storm he was prepared to ride out and he had a feeling it would be worth whatever debris she’d leave him with.

The base of the distant thunder rumbling, the cymbal-like crash of waves on the shore, and singing of the creatures of summer nights blended together into a beautiful melody that flowed through Eris. Quickly he stood, extending a hand to her. “Dance with me, Y/N?”

She froze, that distant look crossing her eyes again for a second. He braced himself for her decline but the life returned to her eyes as a smile graced her full lips. She accepted his hand and didn’t hesitate as he tucked her into his chest, her warmth and scent lulling him into a state of bliss.

No, Eris Vanserra did not hate the Summer Court at all.

————————

This was a long one and I know it wasn’t from our girls POV but I hope you all enjoyed it 🥹 Stay tuned for more! Her story is not done yet.

Tags:

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study

[letsgetrowdy43]

A long time coming—

Request: Luke has been in love with jacks best friend since childhood, but the reader never lets anything happen out of respect for Jack but eventually the two have a moment and she can’t hide her feelings for Luke anymore, and I think Jack would be supportive of his two favourite people

I changed the prompt a bit cause I read it wrong, so sorry abt that!!

“Luke we can’t,” she said in between kisses, her hands that had once been tangled in his curls now lightly pushed him away from her, “we can’t do this to him,” she mumbled as Luke shook his head in denial. “He doesn’t care, he’s understanding, and he’ll get over it,” his lips travelled down her neck as she groaned into his shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her torso as she let out shallow breaths.

The little voice in the back of her head kept repeating the same words to her, whispers about Jack being disappointed in her decisions made her tense and finally take a step away from the Hughes boy whose hands sat comfortably on her hips.

“I can’t,” she whispered. "Wait Y/n/n," he said as her hand went for the doorknob, "let's just talk about it," she shook her head and looked at him once more as the tears started and she left the quiet of the locked bathroom and ventured back into the party to find her friends to take her home.

That had been four months ago at a St Patrick’s Day party, it was now the end of June and Y/n and Luke had yet to talk about what happened.

Luke left for Jersey, and Y/n stayed in Ann Arbor to finish out her third year at Umich, so life got busy. They made it through playoff runs, final exams, injuries, and so many other bumps in the road, and finally, it was the Hughes brothers and company’s favourite time of the year.

Summer at the lake house.

Summers with the Hughes’ were always like an escape from reality, days on the lake, sun tans, sand, and beer, it was always so chalked full of life. Four months of being with the best people, at the greatest time of the year.

But she was dreading this particular summer.

“You seem down Missy,” Ellen hugged the girl as Y/n placed the last bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. The girl shrugged, “just tired, that’s all” the girl said as Ellen rubbed her back and nodded. “Well I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind if you napped for a bit,” she ushered out to Jack, Luke, Trevor, and Alex who were playing ping pong in the backyard.

Y/n nodded with a sad smile and headed up to her room, flopping down on the soft mattress as she let the weight lift off of her shoulders for a second.

A light knock on the door woke her up from her nap, she groggily sat up and looked at Luke who was smiling at her, leaning up against her door frame, “Did you know you snore?” She stared at him with not a trace of amusement, “No I don’t.” “No you don’t,” he confessed as the girl stretched her tired limbs, “Mom told me to tell you that dinner is ready whenever you are,” he said with a nod and then headed back downstairs to get a plate without another word.

She got down to the bottom of the stairs to be whisked off into a conversation with Z, loud laughter erupting from Jim as Trevor poked fun at Luke for something. The girl sat in between Quinn and Josh who both picked at her for her bedhead, too which gained each of them a smack followed by no more pestering as she ate her burger and salad in peace.

Her eyes travelled over to Luke who was already staring at her, then to Jack who was watching the tension unfold. His brow quirked at her gaze immediately stared down at her plate.

To Y/n the idea of loving Luke, romantically, was something she never seemed to be able to shake. Nothing had ever erupted between the two of them except for that one kiss months ago in a random bathroom that smelled like beer and sex. Thinking back now, everything about that moment felt perfect to her. She would give up pretty much anything to go back to that night and live out her fantasy of finally giving in to the overwhelming urge, maybe even the need, to love Luke.

She’d give up anything, anything but Jack.

She stood in the kitchen, hands buried in the warm soapy water, as she scrubbed the dinner plates that the boys had so graciously dropped off at the sink for her to clean.

Jack walked in with a grin on his face, "You need to stop moping, you're making me depressed Missy," he grinned as she looked at him unamused by the nickname, even more, displeased by the poking he did to her side as he taunted her mood.

"Y'know a little birdy told me something about a kiss, and I think that's why you might be a little tense," she looked at Jack wide-eyed, her lips parted. "I'm so sorry Jack, it was once, and it was a mistake that never should've happened," she began to ramble as the boy smugly grinned at her. He placed his hand over her mouth to shut her up, "a mistake that you wanna do again?" he grinned as her cheeks heated up.

"I never wanted to upset you or break your trust, it was only once," she continued her rant as Jack laughed dryly at her panic. "I don't care Y/n/n, Lu's been crazy about me since we were kids, and I'd much rather you date him than the other douchebags you normally go after," he smiled as her face dropped. "I do not have bad taste in men," she gawked as he looked at her unconvinced.

Jack grinned one last time, "All I'm saying is that it's a win-win situation for me and you, you get the boy, and I'd get to see you more often in Jersey," he leaned against the counter as she stared at him, unable to tell if he was being serious or playing some sick joke on her. "I get the boy?" "You can have the boy," he nods, "but if he hurts you, you tell me and I'll set him straight," he said leaning forward to pull her into a hug and pressing a kiss to her temple as she smiled into his shirt.

"You're sure it's okay?" she said, her words muffled into his shirt as he nodded. He pulled away with a smile, "I approve," she grinned back as he headed back to the rec room where the rest of the boys were playing pool.

Luke walked in shortly after, quietly with a soft smile on his face as he picked up the dry cloth to help take a little bit of the workload off of her.

"You okay Y/n?" he asked as she looked at him with an unsure look, her hands still in the sink trying to finish the still never-ending pile of dishes. "You told your brother?" she whispered and looked at him her attention falling on a strand of hair that had fallen out from its place behind her ear and into her eye. Luke reached forward to brush the hair out of her face as he smiled sweetly, "I did," he said almost sweetly as he held her face in his hands.

"What did he say to you sweets?" he asked with a grin as she looked at him with something resembling love. She blushed at the nickname as chills ran up her spine due to the soothing feeling of his thumb running over her cheek, "well he said that he was okay with this," she motioned between the two of them as he grinned even wider. "I told you he would be understanding," he lowered himself down to capture her lips in a slow kiss, the hands that were previously in the soapy water were now gripping at the cotton material of his sweater as he pulled her closer.

She was the first to pull away, as a smile took over her face while recalling another thing that Jack had said during their conversation, "Jack said another thing that caught me off guard." A short hum left the boy's mouth as he chased her lips, pecking her once before noticing the pleased grin on her face, "what did he say?"

The boy's brows furrowed as she let out a short laugh, "he might've dropped that you've been 'crazy about me since we were little'" she quoted as Luke's face broke out into a bright shade of pink. "I might've been," he mused as she grinned and stood on her tiptoes while her arms looped around his neck. "Good, 'cause I might been a little crazy about you too," she whispered before smashing her lips back onto his, the dishes long forgotten as they stood in the lake house kitchen surrounded by love.

Both of them realizing that this romance had been a long time coming

-

-

-

It's not edited, so if it has bad grammar I'm sorry

[aryxchse]

beach talks / percy jackson x mortal! fem! reader.

a / n : and here i thought i wouldn't write anything mortal x demigod trope,,,, but yeah my brain is screaming ideas to me from all of the bf asmr's and percy jackson's hot self i keep up with. and please let demigod's have magical phones!!

warnings : crying, cuteness overload, suprisingly i didn't cursed?? childhood friends to strangers (?) to lovers, first love, enchanted to meet you fr

oh how you missed perseus jackson.

yancy academy was something traumatising for the both of you, but percy made it easier to survive. he was fun, sarcastic, cute, and had the most gorgeous sea green eyes.

you two loved sneaking out from the school, just to visit beach. you both loved the sea, but you knew he loved it more than you. whenever he was near the ocean, he would always be more calmer.

his eyes would change the color according to the sea, or you we're just so in love with his eyes that you romanticised it in every way.

so when he called you last night, to ask you if you would meet up at the beach you always visited back then, you couldn't say no. instead, you laughed and said 'you always loved to be near the ocean anyways.'

you were so mad at him, so mad. you said you wouldn't leave him when he got expelled, but instead, he left you. he dissapeared without saying anything. and years later, the last week of the summer before collage starts, he reached to you.

and you're so, so mad at yourself for agreeing to meet up with him.

but then again, the way you missed and loved him was more powerful than your anger.

the beach was the same as the last day you arrived here. two years after percy got expelled and didn't even answered any of your calls that time, dissapearing. you were 14, now returning as 18.

you saw a familiar boy sitting on the sand, hugging his knees and watching the ocean with a calm look on his face. he had the same messy raven hair and sharp features with the boy you were in love with when you were 12.

"percy?" you called softly, approaching the boy. he immediatly turned to you, bright sea green eyes piercing your soul.

oh, those sea green eyes.

"oh gods, y/n," he said, stooding up. you tried to pay no mind to him saying 'gods' instead of 'god.' since he hugged you like he was going to break your ribs. "i missed you so much."

the tears were already showing themselfs in your eyes. man, you really loved this boy. as you hugged him back, the change in his appearence made you sad. because you weren't there to see it, to tease him for how quick he got taller or how ripped he was now.

he was more tan, he had many, many scars on his body. he smelled like salt water and wow, he was so much taller than you now. not to mention of how bigger his body get. was he in the military or something when he was gone?

"thank you for coming," he said, pulling away to look at you. his smile was bright like you remembered, so strong that always making people mirror his expression. "i really appreciate it."

"well, i deserve an apology right?" you said, sitting next to his previous place on the sand. he sat next to you, expression.. guilty.

"you deserve much more than that," he said quietly, meeting your eyes. you avoided them, 'cause if you didn't, you would scream: it's okay! i forgive you handsome!

"what are you waiting for then?" you asked, watching the ocean. "make up for it jackson."

and with that, he began to tell you everything. he knew he didn't have to hide anything from you, and how you we're a little mythology obsessed. it did suprised you, but you didn't showed it.

"and i knew i had to reach you after the last war because," he said, meeting your eyes again. this time, you looked back at him. "there's not gonna be any prophecy soon."

a sigh escaped your lips, as a way of process everything. "first of all, i'm mad." you said, and percy groaned in sadness. "because i would've helped you through everything, i would try my best."

"i know," percy whispered. "but i didn't want to put you in danger, you're important to me."

good one, you thought. he sure learned how to make a girl melt.

"second of all," you ignored his comment. "i guess i can forgive you since, you saved the world and all." he chuckled at your joke, finally relaxing his shoulders.

"you- you're not freaked out?" he finally asked. and you shook your head.

"you knew i always had a thing for supernatural stuff," you said with a shrug, smiling at him. he smiled back, squinting his eyes because of the sun. "yeah, i know." he nodded.

"so uh," you avoided his gaze again. "got any girlfriends? you've been gone for too long, we need to make up for it."

you were actually scared to ask this question, because you couldn't had a boyfriend after him. you didn't know why, but you were so loyal to him that you didn't even loved someone after him.

"no." he said. "i never loved anyone like i loved you."

oh gods, you thought. did he read my mind? how can we be this same?

"you-" you stuttered. "you- what?" he chuckled, pinching your cheek.

"guess i skipped the part were my fatal flaw is loyalty," he explained. "i had the biggest crush on you when we were 12, and i couldn't forget about you ever since. i knew i had to be with you, so i won the wars and didn't die, just to return to you."

the pinching turned into caress, and the next thing you knew was you were in his arms. "perseus jackson," you whispered, tears rolling down. you hated when you were filled up with this much emotion. "you're really the worst first love."

he only smiled, like he knew the feelings were mutual. and deep down, he did. all those years, he knew he was going to reach you and make you his one day. just when all of the stuff was over, like now.

"i know pretty," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. he kept caressing your cheek gently, and your noses brushed every once in a while. "but i'm gonna make up for it, i swear it on the river styx."

[wild-lavender-rose]

Can I have Legolas and Will Turner separately kissing the reader's scars after seeing them (From battle,abuse, or near death experience not self harm) 🥺

For Legolas-

"What's this from?" Legolas touched your arm.

You looked up from your book to find Legolas looming over your place in a chair by the fireplace, firelight catching on the silvers and greens of his uniform. You lingered in him for a moment, taking in his beauty. Then looked to where he touched you, to the scar his fingers traced over. "Orcs." You returned to your book.

"It must have been painful."

"You should have seen the orcs." You smirked and turned a page. "Sadly, they did not live long enough for their wounds to heal."

You could hear the smile in Legolas's voice. "I'm sure not." He leaned down and kissed the scar.

There was a thunk of his satchel hitting the ground, then your beloved came to sit in front of your chair. This was not an unusual occurrence. Legolas often sought your presence at the end of his day. What you hadn't expected was for him to slip his shirt over his head and hold out a pale, muscular arm for you to inspect. "Matches yours."

Book forgotten, it slipped from your lap as you leaned forward and ran your hand along the long scar. "Orcs?"

"Goblins." Legolas smiled softly as you kissed the scar, slow and sweet, savoring his warmth.

"Must have been painful." You looked up at him, entranced by his eyes in the flickering light.

"No longer." His fingers found the back of your neck, gentle, steady, bringing you close for a kiss you readily returned.

For Will-

You closed your eyes and tried to breathe, fingers stilling on the buttons of your shirt. You were exhausted and wished for nothing more than sleep, however you were so tired your fingers kept fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. Having already removed your gun, hat, and shoes, the shirt was the last thing to go before you could sleep in some sense of comfort in your undershirt.

You had just resolved to give up when familiar footsteps sounded outside your door. A pause, soft knock, and Will stepped inside. "The crew is still celebrating," he closed the door behind him, locking it with a soft click. "They'll probably be up all night."

"Good for them." You rubbed your eyes, swaying unsteadily as he approached. "Do you need something?"

"Uh," Will nodded to your bed. "Are you about to sleep?"

"I was attempting to," you fumbled irritably with your shirt and yawned. "Can't, can't get my shirt off."

Will's smile was gentle. "Here," he crossed to you, the closeness making your heart skip. "Allow me."

"It's fine," you took a step back and tripped, sure to have fallen had not Will caught you by the arm.

"Steady," Will smiled as you laughed at yourself. "You're exhausted."

"Unbelievably." You smiled up at him, the expression fading as his fingers found your buttons. "Will,"

His fingers paused. "Allow me to help."

"I don't...I'm not," your face grew hot, gaze falling down to his chest. "I have...I'm not pretty."

"Love,"

"A life...A life of a pirate is not always kind." You closed your eyes against the shame, only you were so tired it made you want to doze off standing up so you opened them once more.

"Listen," Will touched the side of your face and brought your gaze up to his once more. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life. But, you will think me ugly."

"Never." Will pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Never, my love."

You hesitated but did not refuse when he began to unbutton your shirt. His movements were slow and careful. Will kissed your nose, your cheeks, your lips as he worked, the sensation intoxicating. When your undershirt and arms were revealed you expected disgust to cross his face. Instead, you saw nothing but sadness and love.

"Darling," he breathed, fingers brushing along the scar on your collarbone, then over to the scar on your shoulder. The scars were everywhere, marring your tanned skin.

"Ugly?" You asked.

"Beautiful." He responded, leaning down to kiss along the length of each scar.

Fanfic Masterlist

[lovelyjj]

hey! Can you write insecure reader who stops eating and her boyfriend JJ finds out?

I love all your works btw! 😽🫶

Insecure

jj maybank x reader

a/n: thank you and thank you so much for requesting!

It was hard not to compare yourself to other girls. When you were at the beach all you could think about is the bodies of the other girls. They had tiny waists and long legs. Their hair was perfect and you just wished you looked like them.

The fact that you had to wear a bikini to the beach made you not want to go. Showing off your body is quite possibly the last thing you would ever want to be doing. So you would ether not go or wear a sweatshirt and say you weren’t tanning or swimming.

It was also hard to see the same girls at the beach flirt with your boyfriend. JJ would blow them off and reassure you that that you were the only one for him. JJ didn’t even glance in their direction. He was completely devoted to you. Yet you still felt like he deserved better.

All you could think about is how horrible you looked. You were far from how the girls at the beach looked, and you couldn’t help but think you were ugly. You were deeply insecure and you didn’t know how to fix it.

You felt uncomfortable in your own skin and not good enough for anyone or anything. You were tired of feeling this way, it was draining. You were also feeling hopeless. Your mind was your worst enemy. Every time you looked in the mirror you cringed. So, you tried to avoid doing that at all times.

When food was placed in front of you you would almost gag. You didn’t want to eat. It was too much. You thought maybe if you stopped eating you would become thinner and look like all the other girls with tiny waists.

You didn’t mean to it just sort of happened. You thought you were just not hungry, but then you were skipping meals. a lot of meals. You have stopped eating all together and you were hoping that you would get good results out of it.

JJ wasn’t stupid, he knew something was wrong he just didn’t know what. He noticed that he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. He also noticed that you’ve lost some weight. Of course your weight didn’t matter to him but he was concerned for your health.

The chateau was busy with all the pogues in it. They were all getting ready to go in the hot tub. You were having a dilemma because you didn’t want to get into a swimsuit. So you decided you wouldn’t go in.

“What’s up buttercup?” JJ asked.

“Nothing just chillin,” you spoke.

“How are you, seriously?” JJ asked. He was concerned about you. He was watching you decline and he hated it.

“Um m’fine,” you replied.

“I think we need to talk,” JJ put forth.

“what about?”

“I haven’t seen you eat in a long time and I’m worried about you,” JJ confessed.

You let out a deep sigh. You did not want to have this conversation right now.

“Don’t worry about it JJ,” you instructed.

“No I will worry about it because i worry about you. You’re my girl and I care about you. I’m concerned. Please baby, talk to me.” JJ begged.

“I just want to feel pretty,” tears filled your eyes but you didn’t let them fall.

“I thought maybe if I stop eating, I would loose some weight.” You looked down on the floor avoiding JJ’s eyes.

“You know I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world right?!”

“Baby please look at me.”

You did as you were told, reluctantly.

“I want you to listen to me when I say this. You’re perfect just the way you are. I love you and I love your body. I think you’re gorgeous. It breaks my heart that you don’t see it. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

You gave JJ a sad smile.

“Come here,” JJ opened his arms for you to get into.

Once you were in JJ’s arms he kissed your cheek. Then he kissed your forehead. He then kissed your temple. “My beautiful girl, love you so much!” Then he kissed your lips.

“How about I order a pizza?” JJ suggested.

“I don’t know jayj,” you shrugged.

“Come on please baby I need you to eat something for me. I don’t want you to wither away. I care about you and your health.”

“I’ll eat with you, I will even help you. If you want me too,” JJ shrugged.

“Jayj…”

“No come on, I’m ordering the pizza, end of story.”

You gave JJ a small smile silently thanking him but you were more so just done protesting. You knew JJ meant well you were just stubborn. It meant a lot to you that he cared so much about you. You thought it was sweet. You just really didn’t want to eat.

The pizza was delivered and you were dreading eating it. JJ took the pizza to his room so you could have some privacy.

“I know you don’t want to eat but i’m right here I’m not going anywhere and I want you to nourish your body.”

“okay jayj.”

JJ sat with you and helped you eat. He was understanding and considerate. He wanted to be there for you during this hard time. With JJ’s help you were able to eat something.

“There you go baby, good job! I’m proud of you,” JJ praised.

“Thank you J.”

[zepskies]

Being Human – Part 1

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: This is technically my first Dark Angel story, since I wrote Part 1 of this before "Bullseye." It will be four parts. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Summary: You’ve managed to keep things playful and friendly with Alec so far, despite his flirtatious nature. But when he asks you for a favor that goes painfully awry, the transgenic has to figure out something that wasn’t in his training: how to apologize. [Set during 2.06]

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Tension, angst, spiciness, implied smut.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: Training Day

As sad as it is, this is probably your favorite place in the world.

Crash is as divey as a dive bar can get. And yet, it still boasts the strongest, cheapest drinks in Seattle. The music is decent, and the company is good. At least tonight it is, because you’ve met up with Max, Original Cindy, and Sketchy after a long day of slinging packages.

The only problem?

The newest member of Jam Pony, slinking up from the corner of your eye and easing into the seat next to you at the bar.

You turn an expectant gaze to Alec McDowell and his flirtatious green eyes. They take in your jeans and halter top with an obvious perusal. 

“Can I help you?” you ask dryly.

“No, no. It’s what I can do for you,” he replies. You’re about to roll your eyes when he adds, “Let me buy you a beer. Or whatever you’re drinking.”

Just then, the bartender slides you the beer you’ve already ordered. You thank him and give Alec a smile.

“Got it covered, thanks,” you reply, sipping the froth off your drink.

Alec sighs and crosses his arms. “When are you gonna stop putting the freeze on me?”

“When I’m not part of your internal checklist of Breasts on Legs,” you retort. Glancing around the bar, you note three other girls you’ve already seen him shoot his shot with tonight.

Alec scoffs and holds his chest.

“That’s hurtful,” he claims. “It really is.”

But he shifts toward you in his seat, cutting off your smile. Your face warms at his proximity.

Damn, he smells good, you think.

“Besides,” he says, “I always save the best for last.”

His smile makes your heart beat faster, though you eye him wryly. He opens his smartass mouth to say something else, but you get a reprieve when Original Cindy slides into the seat on your other side. She tosses you a wink.

It gives you just enough confidence to smirk in Alec’s face.

“Keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll lose my mind,” you say, with a teasing raise of brows.

Alec is still amused as he shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. Insulting, yet, still somehow endearing.”

“Don’t wanna get clowned, don’t act like a clown,” you tell him sweetly. 

“I know that’s right,” Cindy quips. She orders a Cosmo to upgrade her beer. She must’ve won a bet tonight, if she was able to score enough cash for liquor.

“Hilarious,” Alec says. He pouts a little. “Hey, I’m not some mongrel on the loose. I’m just looking for some honest companionship.”

“Honest?” you laugh. “Now that’s hilarious.”

He gives you a fake laugh, but he watches you go when you slip away from him to join Max and Sketchy in the back room by the pool table. Alec’s smile fades a little.

Cindy raises a brow at him, along with a tan finger.

“No,” she says. “You actually crushin’ on homegirl? For real?”

Alec glances at her. “Where’d you get that idea?”

She gives him a flat look.

“Should I burn some sage?” she asks.

Alec shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“Come on. I think Max is calling us over.”

When the two of them venture over to where you and Max are playing a game of pool, Alec’s cocky smile is back. His eyes catch yours when he sits down at a nearby table. Your lips curve while you lean on your pool cue.

For the past few weeks, this is how it’s always been with you and Alec. Push and pull. A sort of caustic flirtation that you can’t in good conscience take seriously. But to his credit, he always tries.

And he seems to always mean it. 

You’ll never admit it, but it’s getting harder and harder for you to resist the pull of him. He’s clearly a guy who doesn’t do attachments, and you have a bad habit of getting attached. Your life is hard enough without adding a dash of heartbreak into the mix.

So Max helps you sharpen your skills at this game while you finish your beer. And…maybe you “unintentionally” tease Alec a little with the curve of your ass when you’re bent over the table, lining up a shot.

In fairness, you’re a bit tipsy.

You spend the rest of the night drinking two more beers and laughing and losing the game—first to Max, then to Alec, and finally to Sketchy. By then, you know it’s time to cut your losses.

You haul your backpack onto your shoulder and start to head out of the bar. But who should slip into your way than Alec freakin’ McDowell?

“Hey, I’ve got a quick question for you,” he says.

You sigh. “Alec, the usual sniping was fun, but I’m tired and I want to go home.”

He stops you with a touch on your arm. He seems slightly more serious.

“It’s a favor,” he says, pulling out a small rectangular package wrapped in plain brown paper. You look down at it in confusion.

“I saw on the work chart that you’re scheduled to go over to Sector 4 tomorrow,” he says. “Would you mind delivering this for me?”

Your brows raise at him. He raises $20 in front of your face.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he smiles.

You take the $20 and the package, though you’re still a little uncertain.

“What’s in it?”

Alec leans in close to your ear. “I’ll give you an extra $10 if you don’t ask.”

His voice washes over you and makes your skin prickle. You’re blushing, but your eyes narrow at him further.

“Make it $20,” you counter.

He scoffs. Though after a moment…he coughs up the extra cash.

“The most expensive damn delivery I’ve never made,” he mutters.

You have to crane your neck a bit, as he stands over a head taller than you, but you smile up at him brightly.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you say.

For him, maybe the expense was worth it to get that smile.

You pull up on your bike to what you think is the right address. You don’t usually come to this side of town, even in Sector 4.

It feels a bit like a shanty town and a meat packing district all at once—complete with dodgy-looking street vendors and unmarked vans loading and unloading cargo behind them. 

“Can I help you, little girl?”

You stifle a gasp as your path is suddenly obstructed. A black man and his two white friends have crowded around your bike, but they don’t look normal. Various metal spikes and prods protrude from their faces, neck, and body, but they’re not your typical piercings. The metal is fused into their skin.

Oh shit, you think, as your heartrate picks up. Steelheads.

“I’m just making a delivery,” you tell them. Your eyes dart to your surroundings, trying to catch anyone’s gaze for a little help.

But in big cities like this, everyone knows to keep their eyes down.

Don’t look, don’t tell. Don’t get any trouble.

“I think you might be lost, love,” says one of the other men. He’s British, by the sound of his accent, and is the taller of the two. His skin is pale, though there’s a red ring under his eyes that suggests drugs, or whatever else these three are injecting into themselves.

“Uhh, yeah. I must be. I’ll just go,” you nod, and you start to back up. The ringleader Brit clamps a bony hand on your bike to stop you. He grabs the scrap of paper Alec gave you, which holds the address for your intended delivery.

The Steelhead examines it lazily, before his gaze flicks back up to yours.

“Well, well. I stand corrected,” he says. He gestures to the small package in your hands. “What’s in it?”

You shrug and try to play off your ignorance. Because the truth is, you have no idea.

“It’s not my job to know,” you reply.

“Ah, but you see, it’s our business to know,” the Brit says, leaning in towards you. You lean back with pursed lips.

“This is our little piece of paradise,” says the shortest one. His lips are damn near purple.

“We’re what you call…territorial,” says the leader. He grabs you off your bike while the first man takes the package from you.

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” you say, though you hate the way your voice shakes. “I can just go—”

“Oh, we’ll let you go, little mouse. You’re gonna give a message back to sender,” the Brit says. “But first, a reminder.”

He shoves you back into the nearest wall. It’s solid brick that stuns a gasp out of you. He presses in on you, grabbing your face and dragging a sharp, unnaturally long nail against your cheek, biting into the skin.

It’s painful enough to make you whimper as you feel wetness drip down to your neck. His friends laugh at your discomfort, at your fear. You’re too frozen to reach for the pepper spray in your pocket…

“What’s going on here?” another man asks. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a black uniform. For the first time in your life, you’re grateful to see a cop.

The Steelhead releases you, and the three of them are subtle in the way they back off from you.

“Nothing here, officer,” the leader says. Though he gives you a smirk. “Just accepting a delivery.”

You let them keep the package and pretend that a signature has made it onto your clipboard. You climb back onto your bike and you leave Sector 4 without looking back. All the while, your arms shake and you wipe at the blur of tears in your eyes.

When you get back to the Jam Pony base of operations (a warehouse that feels like a basement), you park your bike out front and head inside.

Your legs still feel precarious. And even though the blood is dry against the cut on your cheek, you know you need to clean and disinfect it at some point.

Of course, you have to run into Alec and Sketchy, who are palling around without a care in the world.

That all stops when they turn to look at you. Their mirth dies on their faces. Alec’s gaze runs over you and stops at your cheek. You dab at your face, tentative and self-conscious. You know you must look like hell. Of course, they can’t let you just go to your locker in peace.

“Jeez, what the hell happened to you?” Sketchy asks.

You shake your head. “Fell into a bush.”

You drag Alec aside by his arm, giving him a warning look that further lets him know you’re lying. He follows you without complaint over to the lockers, where you two have the semblance of privacy. Before he can ask you what really happened, you snap at him.

“What the hell was in that package?” you ask. “Drugs? A weapon? Some other contraband? Do you know what could’ve happened to me if I’d gotten caught with that shit? Do you know what almost…”

Tears burgeon in your eyes all over again, and you have to take a deep, shaky breath. 

Alec’s brows furrow in what might actually be concern. He grasps your arm, gentle but firm. 

“Hey, tell me what happened,” he says.

Unconsciously, his grip on your arm makes the memory flash in your mind: of that pale, greasy man grabbing you and pinning you against the wall.

You shrug out of Alec’s hold more harshly than you meant to. It makes him raise a placating hand, as his eyes widen a fraction.

“A gaggle of Steelheads,” you say. You breathe tremulously, blinking past your tears. “I was lucky…anyway. Next time you want to ask me for a favor? Don’t.”

 You brush past Alec to get to your locker. There you grab the rest of your things and head out, though it’s quite a few hours before closing time. Nothing gets by Normal, who stops you at the reception desk.

“Hey, hey, Missy! Where the hell’re you going?” he asks. “Get back here. I’ve got packages that need homes.”

“I’m taking some much needed PTO,” you quip.

“You don’t have PTO. It’s not that kind of business,” Normal says.

“Then bite me,” you snap. “How’s that?”

Most of the room stills into quiet shock. You feel the weight of their gazes, your coworkers and friends, including Normal’s slackened face.

You’re normally not one to talk back. You accept your assignments without question, not wanting to cause undue trouble for yourself. Like everyone else here, you need your job, and you have nothing to fall back on.

But it’s enough, and you’re thoroughly done with today.

Your saving grace is that it’s plain to see how shaken up you are, even when you leave. Alec approaches the receptionist desk with Sketchy, drumming his hand on the counter absently. 

“What the hell crawled up her keister?” Normal remarks. “She’s lucky I’m short staffed right now, or she’d be in the can.”

Despite his strong talk, he resumes collecting paperwork and organizing files to distract himself from how much you’d taken him aback.

Alec frowns.

“She uh, had to deal with some Steelheads,” he offers, and hesitates. “...What the hell’s a Steelhead?”

“Yeah, you know, they’re into implants and biotech stuff,” Sketchy explains.

“She would know better than to hang out with those low lives,” Normal interjects. “They’re amped off their gourds on hormones and who knows what else.”

Alec processes that with a deepening frown. He decides to head out onto his next “delivery.”

He makes it to Sector 4 on his bike within an hour, but he still envies Max’s motorcycle. When he racks up enough cash, he’s definitely scoring a faster ride.

For now, he pulls up near the address he sent you to earlier. He never should’ve given you his drugs to sell, especially when he clearly doesn’t know this city well enough yet.

Poor reconnaissance, Alec, he thinks. Sloppy.

Though when did he start to think of himself as Alec and not by his designation, 494?

He’s soon taken out of his musings when he sees a gaggle of three men outside a cargo van. Each of them is uglier than the last, with metal spikes, among other things sticking out from their bodies. Steelheads. They’ve got to be.

These are the guys who harassed you.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Alec says, climbing off his bike. The men turn to the newcomer with suspicious frowns.

“I’m looking for three fugly Steelheads that hassled a friend of mine this morning,” he says.

One is tall, pale and wiry, and he opens his arms wide. “Well, you found ‘em.”

He has a British accent. The sight of him alone grates on Alec, though all he shows is calm confidence. He teases the short one, who seems to be missing an arm. Apparently he’s “pre-op,” set to get a new cyber arm made of Japanese steel.

Fucking wackos, Alec thinks. Manticore could learn a thing or two from these guys about mutilation.

“Here’s the thing, fellas,” Alec says. “My friend was carrying a package that didn’t belong to her. It belonged to me. You guys took it, and I need to get it back.”

The first man scoffs. “There seems to be a breakdown in communication, doesn’t it?”

He approaches Alec, hands on his hips, with his two cronies behind him. Alec can already smell their stench from where he stands. He doesn’t need them to get any closer.

“Maybe your little bitch didn’t relay our message,” he says, pushing his luck.

Alec’s smile sharpens; a deadly warning in and of itself.

“Nobody around here sells Andy but us,” says another of them.

Androxtamine. Alec didn’t care to be a drug dealer. It was just a means to an end in order to pay Max back for her help a little while back. Now, his buyer is pissed that he didn’t get his damn drugs, and Alec is out $500.

He tries to explain that calmly to this group of weirdos, but the leader is just so damn cocky.

“What’s a puff like you need with $500 anyway, eh?” he asks.

Alec’s smirk deepens. He mimics the guy’s accent and replies, “Actually, I need it for a ride on your mum.”

Well, the Steelheads don’t take too kindly to that. They try their best, Alec will hand it to them. But his genetics and training make the resulting “fight” no more than child’s play. He takes his frustrations out of their asses.

He can’t help being slightly more brutal than necessary when he remembers the fear lingering behind your eyes. The bloody cut on your cheek. The way it could’ve been so much worse…

And it would’ve been your fault. Alec’s lips press into a line.

Logan Cale, Max’s rich non-boyfriend and secret “Eyes Only” vigilante, calls Alec halfway through his venting session to, surprisingly, ask for his help.

Alec agrees, because it’s mainly for Max. A creature has been killing cops in Seattle. Unfortunately, the description of a “man-dog” sounds way too much like Joshua, their fellow transgenic in hiding.

It also means Alec has to spend most of his afternoon in a musty sewer.

The job ends up being a bitch and a half, even when Max finally shows up to help out. The true culprit ends up being Joshua’s brother, Isaac, who Joshua is forced to stop before he kills any more policemen who remind him of Manticore’s abusive guards.

The gentle Joshua ends up having to take out his own brother. Something that’s both familiar, and foreign to Alec. (But he’s sure it’s not so foreign to Max.)

It’s a harrowing scene, and a touch too emotional for Alec’s comfort. He leaves Max to tend to Joshua in the aftermath and catches a ride home with Logan. Somehow though, as bone tired and grimy as he feels, Alec can’t feel right about going home just yet.

Something is niggling in the back of his mind, forcing him to hand Logan a scrap of paper that holds your address. (Alec might’ve snuck into Normal’s office before he left for the day to find out where you lived on your employee file.)

“Hey, can you stop at this address?” Alec asks.

Logan glances at the piece of paper and nods. He then looks over at Alec. They aren’t friends, but Logan is perceptive enough to know that something’s weighing on his passenger.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks.

“There’s something I have to do,” Alec supplies.

When they eventually arrive to what seems like an abandoned building, Logan looks over at Alec.

“Good luck,” he offers.

Alec nods gratefully. They aren’t friends, but he supposes Logan’s not so bad, even if he is a slave to Max’s supposed charms.

Alec gets out of the car and head inside the building. It’s old and dirty, and he really can’t believe you live like this. It lacks security and basic hygiene. If he wanted to, he could kick straight through your door with half of his strength.

Instead, he knocks.

A few moments later, he hears your feet padding cautiously to the door.

“Who is it?” you ask. Your voice is familiar and pleasant to his ears, if nervous.

“It’s me, Alec,” he replies.

It takes a second of your hesitation, but you unlock the door and open it.

He eyes your tank-top and shorts, the thin bra, your damp hair, the smell of your shampoo assaulting his heightened senses. 

But the jagged red line across your cheek draws his attention, along with the confusion in your eyes, and the wooden spoon in your hand. Was that supposed to be your weapon of choice? 

“What’re you doing here?” you ask. “How’d you even know where I live?”

“Ah, I told Normal I wanted to check on you. Make sure you weren’t going AWOL on the job tomorrow,” Alec says with a teasing smile.

You look a bit skeptical, but you let him in when he asks if he can. He smells whatever you’re cooking, spots the metal pot of pasta sauce simmering on the janky-looking stove, and his mouth starts to water. He’s starving, now that he thinks about it.

He then focuses on taking in the rest of the apartment…and it doesn’t take him long. This place is a shoebox.

At least it’s clean, as much as the peeling drywall can be.

“Why’re you here then?” you ask. Alec turns to see you have a hand on your hip. You’re staring at him like he’s a puzzle you’re trying to figure out.

You set down the wooden spoon on the counter and face him. Alec’s tempted to brush a stray strand of hair out of your eyes, but he keeps his arms down to his sides instead.

“About what happened today,” he says. “Those guys aren’t going to be a problem for you again.”

You tilt your head at him.

“What’d you do?” you ask with furrowed brows. “Something shy of legal?”

Alec starts to smile. “Maybe.”

You hmph in response. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Alec barely resists rolling his eyes, though he knows he deserves that. Once again, he takes in your apartment. It’s cozy, he supposes, if small.

“You live alone?” he asks. “No roommate? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” you say dryly. “But no. To both.” 

That satisfies him, and yet there’s a little churn in his gut. This place is questionable at best. Doesn’t exactly boast decent security. He’s not too worried about the Steelheads trying to find you, but after the past few months outside of Manticore, he realizes how rough it’s become for humanity after the Pulse, especially for a woman alone.

“You could use a doorman around here,” he remarks. 

You scoff in amusement. “Yeah, well. It may not be the Ritz, but as long as the heater doesn’t crap out on me, it’s a decent day.” 

Alec doesn’t know what the Ritz is, but it sounds nicer than this dump. 

You catch the silent look of judgment on his face, making you frown and cross your arms.

“I can take care of myself just fine, okay, Dad?”

Alec frowns and gestures to your face. “Yeah. Right. You’re little miss Fight Club.”

That sparks your temper. You glare up at him with a defiant tilt to your chin.

“This,” you point to your marred cheek, “wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you. I’m not an idiot. I don’t put myself in stupid situations, except for that one time I ignored my better judgment to help you!”

Alec glowers back at you, but he knows he doesn’t have a good defense. You take a step into his orbit and tap a finger into his chest.

“And by the way,” you add. Your voice cracks like a whip. “Whoever taught you how to apologize did a bang up job!”

By the end of your little rant, you’re breathing deeply, and Alec is barely holding onto his own temper. What cuts through it all are the frustrated tears brimming in your eyes.

He sighs internally.

They didn’t exactly cover this in training, he thinks, but he supposes that's just…Being Human 101.

All too soon, your anger dims into defensiveness. You withdraw from him and gesture to the door.

“Now if you don’t mind, please get out of my shithole apartment so I can finish cooking in peace,” you gripe.

“Wait, wait,” Alec implores, when you try to lead him out. He lets you back him up a step or two, just to seem human, but now he digs his heels in. He looks down at you with true regret. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. His hand finds your unmarred cheek, caressing softly. His thumb swipes across your skin. “I am. I shouldn't have asked you to make that delivery. I'm sorry you got hurt.”

You stare up at him, breathing labored, and making your breasts just barely brush his sternum. Your eyes search his just as much as he is yours.  

He isn’t actually sure who moves first, him or you. But when his lips meet yours, it feels like electricity under his skin. It’s magnets that are meant to connect—it’s his arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands and you grabbing his face, sinking your fingers into his sandy brown hair.

It’s teeth clicking and tongues warring as he backs you up to the kitchen counter, and he hefts you up there by your hips.

You squeal in surprise, making Alec chuckle before he swallows your sounds with his mouth.

You start to push his jacket off his shoulders, and he helps you, letting the rest of it slide right off, followed by his shirt and your tank top. His hands smooth up your bare thighs and his thumbs dip in between, squeezing near the apex of your thighs and making you tremble against his chest. Warmth pools in your core even from that simple touch.

“W-Wait,” you whisper. 

It makes Alec pause. His muscles tense. Has he read you wrong? 

He searches your face for a sign of discomfort. If you don’t want this, it’ll be…hard, at this point (for more reasons than one). But if he has to, he’ll let you go.

He’s relieved when you only twist away for a moment to turn off the stove. You return to him with a smile as your hands come to rest on his chest. You bite your lower lip. 

“Shall we continue?” he teases. 

His thumb encourages you to let go of your lip. He takes your chin between his fingers and guides you back to him.

The next kiss burns with a slower passion. One that consumes you enough to hook your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips. 

He grins against your lips and lifts you again, this time holding you firmly against him. You make another sound of surprise, but you don’t let that stop you from delving deeper into his kiss. 

He carries you into the bedroom and slams the rickety door.

Afterwards, the two of you lay together on the wrong side of your bed. 

Alec lies on his stomach and you on your back. The night had gotten such that you stopped caring which side you typically put your pillow on. Your hair is fanned out on the mattress in many tangles he took pride in creating.

A shitty show plays on your small TV, but Alec is watching with rapt attention. 

He’s kind of cute about it actually, you think. Like he’s never seen a soap opera before. 

“Ooh, that one’s my favorite,” you point backwards. “It’s about a sexy doctor, obviously.”

“Right, because I’m sure doctors always have this much sex with their patients,” Alec quips. 

You snort and shake your head. You stare at the side of his face for a moment, rather than the TV. 

The back of his hand rubs against your shoulder, earning your attention. 

“What’re you thinking?” he asks. He’s still looking at the screen.

“That I’m even hungrier now, but I don’t feel like getting up,” you admit with a giggle. He laughs.

“I wouldn’t mind some chow,” he says. 

You roll onto your stomach, taking some of the sheets with you when your knee slides over, resting against his naked lower back. You lean your chin on his shoulder as your hand travels across his back. 

“Is that your way of inviting yourself over for dinner?” you ask. 

He looks over at you then. He’s grinning, but his eyes are a touch softer, you think.

“If you don’t mind me crashing,” he says.

You shake your head and sift your fingers through his hair. Your gaze drifts down the back of his neck and catches on a strange mark. It’s a barcode, you realize, touching it lightly with two fingers. 

“What’s this? A prison tat?” you tease. 

He chuckles humorlessly. “Sort of.”

Your amusement fades, but your soft fingers along the back of his neck elicit a small shiver out of him. Your touch is gentle. He isn’t used to gentle, and it makes goosebumps spread across his skin. He feels your lips press a kiss to his shoulder next, and he turns his head to look at you. 

Beautiful, he thinks, taking in your face again, and the hint of cleavage down the sheets covering you, hiding the familiar curves he had all too much fun exploring.

“You gonna tell me the story?” you ask. “Or save it for a rainy day?”

Alec lets out a sigh through his nose. “Let’s pencil that one under the ‘Rainy’ column.”

You nod in agreement and bite your lip. These days, everyone has a story they’re not proud of. Even something that keeps them up at night. You don’t press Alec for his.

He’s grateful for that. He leans in and kisses you, nice and slow.

From the beginning, he noticed you. Your tenacity. Your quiet confidence. How you’re always willing to help your friends, and how you’ve never taken any of his shit, even if he knew part of you had been contemplating his suggestive offers. That spark always kept him coming back for more…and somehow, it became more.

In the back of his mind, this scares him a little. Being with you feels dangerous in a way that feels both familiar and foreign, but it’s too late. He’s been hooked by the pull of you. It’s a craving he can’t help but try and fill. Hopefully, not just tonight.  

“You said something about food?” he grins.

You smile and lean in again, until you’re mere inches from his lips. 

“Hmm, impromptu dinner date?” you offer. Alec laughs quietly and nods.

“We kinda went about this backwards,” you say, “but if you like spaghetti and plain sauce, I’m your girl.”

He smirks at that, and thumbs at your chin.

“Then you’re my girl.”

AN: And there's Part 1! It's only my second time writing Alec, so I hope he feels in character. Let me know what you think of this little series so far. 😘💜

There's much more in store over the next three parts, and the next one tackles perhaps my favorite episode (2.11), even if it's the most gutting.

Next Time:

“All right, that’s enough outta you,” Alec says, and he claims you with a more demanding kiss. His fingers sink into your hair tightly.  

But you press your hand to his cheek, making him pause for a moment. The amusement fades from his eyes the longer he stares into yours. You’re not teasing or joking anymore. 

You kiss him then with meaning. With tenderness. 

You don’t know how it makes that coil of guilt grip him like a vice.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Alec McDowell Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Alec M. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

@waters-2567 @iwishiwas-sleeping @jessjad @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @honeybabycherry @deans-spinster-witch @angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378 @nancymcl

[dsireland86]

BEAUTIFUL THINGS

A little Noah fluff that came to me this morning after seeing this picture. He really is such a beautiful thing, and hope the person who finds him appreciates and loves him the way he's meant to be.

@thefallennightmare @lma1986 @foliosgirl @xxkittenkissesxx @concreteemo

Watching her with kids was like fairytale magic in the real world. She had this way about her that drew him in so close that at times, it hurt. She was kind, caring, and sweet, but mostly, she was honest; hardly ever masking her feelings just to please his ego. When she did, though, it was to protect him. You see, there was a small part of Noah he never knew existed until the day she showed up. It was a child like part of him who was always seeking what his life had been lacking all these years; love. Pure, resilient love that stuck around no matter how bad everything got. It was the kind of love that always brought out that smile in him. It was that kind of love that made Noah begin to see all the beautiful things that he had and was afraid to lose.

After sending the last little one out the door of the Pre-K room, she finally had a moment to fix her attention on Noah. He looked tired today. The slight purple and redness around his cinnamon eyes proved that. With his hands shoved inside the deep pockets of his tan hoodie, she knew from just one glance at Noah that the monkey on his back that tortured and teased him daily had been playing some real nasty ticks on him today. Flipping her "Please knock before entering" sign over, she closed the door and locked it, pulling the blind down over the window to give them a little more privacy.

"What is it today, love?" Her hands running up his chest and around his neck was enough alone to make his head spiral out of control. "It's nothing. Really. I'm good." He took a deep breath while shifting his body so she could snuggle in between his legs comfortably and wrap his long arms around her waist. "Noah, I can feel you're not tell me the truth." He grinned, huffing a slight little laugh. "It's nothing, Really." He slipped his large hand around her head, bringing their lips together for a brief moment. She tasted like watermelon and salt; her favorite snack. "You know I don't believe you, right?" Her voice was calm and soothing, instantly making him relax. He sighed "Why does that not surprise me," he laughed nervously. She smiled softly.

The moment her hands touch the skin of his back, Noah knew he was done for. He was about to tell her everything, releasing every fear, every anxious thought, and all the anger that had built up over the last thirteen hours. The monkey on his back wouldn't win today. "Jolly and I got into a fight, Matt's pissed at equipment that suddenly quit working, Nick's got to fly home for a few days for some family stuff, and Folio, well it seems the only thing he has on his mind right now is fishing and motorcycles. He couldn't concentrate on shit today which only pissed Matt off even more." Noah exhaled the breath he didn't realize he was holding. She hummed, dragging her fingertips up his back before gently raking her nails right back down, repeating this a few times over and over until Noah slumped forward, laying his forehead on her shoulder.

"You realize that none of it, except maybe the fight with Jolly, which was possibly more of a disagreement than a fight, is out of your control, right? Noah, look at me." She took his face between her hands and brought it up so she could find his eyes. They were filled with remorse mixed with a little worry and sadness. Brushing the lose tendrils of dark hair out of his eyes, she ran her thumbs over his lips, resting them there for a brief moment. Noah wrapped his hands around her wrists, bringing on her hands to his cheek, where she willingly placed it and he leaned into it, rubbing his skin against hers. Her touch was everything to him. It healed him in ways nothing else could. "You, my love, are one man. You can't do it all nor can you put the responsibility of others actions on your shoulders. You can't control them, Noah. All you can do is control how you respond to them. Stop putting the burden of other people's problems on your shoulders. Stop trying to bare it all; you were never meant to."

She was right. She was always right. That's why Noah loved her. He nodded, letting her know he understood. "I know. Sometimes, though, it's easier said than done, Princess." Grinning at his nickname for her, she pulled his face close to hers and claimed his lips, taking her time to feel them move against hers and relish in the warm taste of his tongue on hers. It made her weak and dizzy. It made her willing to give into every want and desire of his. Noah's hands found her face, wrapping around the sides of it as their kiss deepened, sending shockwaves and images of what it was going to feel like when he finally got her completely alone tonight. Their kiss slowed, the power to control their urges taking over, an they parted just enough to give the appropriate space. "I know what you mean. The lives some of these babies have to live is heartbreaking. If I had my way, I'd adopt every single one of them that are in foster care. No child deserves to live the way some of them are forced to. But I can't change any of it. I can only be the change they need while they're here in this room with me. That's all the power I have."

Noah took a deep breath, feeling much better already. He always did when he was honest with her about how he was feeling. "You'd adopt them, huh?" He wondered if her confession was real or just metaphorical. "What?" He watched her gather up the necessary items needed for home. "You said if you had your way you'd adopt every single one of them that are in foster care. Would you really?" She grinned, sliding the book inside her tote bag. "Well, obviously I couldn't adopt all of them, but yes, I've though about what it would be like to adopt a child." They'd been trying for two years to get pregnant with no luck. Noah often wondered if infertility was the problem. They'd talked about having kids often and knew how much she was longing to become a mother herself. He wanted to give her that more than he wanted anything else in the world.

Taking his hand and walking out of the classroom, they walked down the hall of the small Pre-k/ daycare building. Waving and saying good-bye, Noah watched how much she glowed when asked about how some of the kids were today. She was excited and eager to tell anyone who would listen. Besides him, Noah knew children were her biggest love. Walking across the parking lot to their cars, she sensed there was something heavy on his mind. "What is it, love?" He looked over at her, only to find her staring up at him quizzically. He caressed her cheek and kissed her sweetly. "Let's go home." Her eyes narrowed, but she agreed. Before they climbed into their cars, Noah stopped her. "I think we should adopt a child," he blurted out suddenly, causing her head to snap up faster than a bolt of lightning. "What?" Noah was shaking, wondering if he should repeat what he'd just confessed. But, from the way her soft green eyes danced at him and that precious smile of hers lingered in the corner of her lips, he knew he should. "I think we should adopt a child. I think we're both ready, and since it hasn't happened naturally for us, yet," putting a strong emphasis on yet, "I think adopting would be the next best thing."

Watching Noah tap his fingers on the hood of his car, confessing to her about wanting to have a child was the last thing she ever expected to come out of him today. But it was the best, most electrifying thing she had ever heard him say besides "marry me." Waiting for her to answer was like waiting for rain to fall during a drought. Noah's heart was pounding and he suddenly found himself on the brink of nausea from the worry quickly spreading through his body.

"Okay. Let's adopt a child." Hiding her excited smile was impossible. "Really?" Noah's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" He laughed nervously, again, unable to believe she was actually agreeing. "Really!' Her excitement was contagious. "Alright!" Noah tapped his hand on the hood. "Alright," she parroted him. "Let's go home and figure out where to start." "Absolutely! Chinese on the way home?" "Mmm, I'm more in Ramen kind of mood tonight. I'll call it in." Here mischievous grin made Noah laugh. He was willing to get her favorite food for dinner, but she was adamant about getting his.

She showed Noah all the wonderful things life had to offer, yet she was the most beautiful thing ever. She was his world. She was his everything; next to her mother. With his daughter and wife beside him, Noah knew he would be okay, not matter what the monkey on his back told him or tried to do to him. He wouldn't break. He would fight. He would risk it all. He had a reason to. Every night he begged God not to take the beautiful things that he loved, and so far, well so far he and God were finally in agreement.

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Crazy, Stupid, Love

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: When Dean has to work at a café to learn infos on a hunt, he thinks it's the worst. Until he meets her. At first, she's only kind of an annoying coworker. But an unfortunate event brings them closer, and Dean starts feeling things for her. If it's love, he doesn't know. But for the first time, he starts wondering how it would feel to have a normal life. A normal job. And a normal relationship. But first, he needs to get her revenge against that shitty boss.

Note: this happens in the begining of season one

Word Count: 9k

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader

Content Warning: Toxic work place, rude customer, humiliation, bullying, swearing

Squares: Humiliation for @hurtcomfort-bingo,/ Revenge for @jacklesversebingo

A/n: I'm gonna be honest, at first, I didn't want to post this fic. When I saw the attention the last few fics I took so much time to write got, it made me sad... But then I remembered how much fun I had with this one, so decided to post it in case someone else has the same fun reading it. ALSO! This was for @eevvvaa writing challenge! I picked the movie Crazy Stupid Love but actually used the quotes! They will be in bold in the text. Happy reading!

Usually, this situation would have upset him. After all, he was stuck here 8 hours per day, 5 days per week and always finished too late to go to the nearest bar afterwards. It also wasn’t the best first real job to have, as it was lame, boring, and always the same thing. But working at a café also had its advantages.

Like the beautiful barista that he had the chance to see on his first day. She was leaving, as she was only working mornings, and he was working evenings, but Dean couldn’t detach his eyes from her. Beautiful body, hair immaculate even after 8 hours of wearing a net, skin tanned to perfection.

“Oh great, another one.”

That wasn’t the girl he was talking about. No, the girl that just spoke was Y/n. At first glance, she looked like the manager. With the most seniority in here, she knew how things were done and how to do them quickly. But she was no boss. To make her agree to be his trainer and show him the basics, the real boss had to insist a lot. He didn’t know all the details, though, but she ended up accepting.

It was for a hunt. Otherwise, Dean would never be here. Sam said there was something weird in the neighborhood, and that the best way to discover what was going on was to talk with the community. And the best place to have conversations with people that didn’t want to talk with the police was of course at the local café. All the rumors and crispy details of the town were floating in there. The reason why it wasn’t Sam doing the whole barista thing was as simple as upsetting.

“Dean, you have all the charm. People- ladies- will open up to you like blooming flowers in the spring.”

Ugh.

Back to the present, Dean ignored Y/n’s comment and tilted his head to the side, still eyeing the morning employee that was leaving. “What do I have to do to get on the morning shift?” 

A groan of annoyance resonated behind him. His smile fell. He was stuck with her for a while, as they were both working evening shifts.

Alone together.

-

There were 60 seconds in one minute. And 60 minutes in one hour. A shift lasted 8 hours here. That was way too many seconds to spend doing nothing but wait to leave.

All that was in his head was the hot chick he kept seeing since he started working here. After only bumping into her these past 2 weeks, Dean finally decided to ask her on a date. And since he was Dean Winchester, no one could tell him no. And the same day, after his shift, he would meet her in front of the pizza place that was two blocks away.

And he couldn’t stop looking at the clock, head in his hand, hoping that staring at it would make the time go faster.

“I asked for a hot caramel latte with almond milk and no foam, what the hell is this?!”

It was near the end. In 15 minutes, the shop would be closed and then it was cleaning time. Weeping the floor, throwing away the remaining food that was not sold, washing the dishes, etc. That was always his favorite part, because even if Y/n was a pain in the ass as his supervisor, she was chill and allowed him to choose the radio station while they cleaned and he could leave once his part was done.

At first, the voice didn’t alert him, and Dean kept on making himself busy with cleaning tables that didn’t need it. But then, something broke, the sound heavy of meaning, and he was on alert. Every fiber of his body was on and he turned to the source of the sound.

Right at the counter, there was a man with his back to him. Without seeing his face, Dean knew he was angry. Pissed, even. At his feet, a broken cup, porcelain in pieces covered the floor soaked in coffee. Two steps allowed Dean to know what the man was looking at, and when he saw her…

He immediately rushed without thinking.

“I’m gonna ask you to leave, sir,” Dean put his hand on the customer’s shoulder, which made him jump. The man turned to him and aggressively stepped back. 

“Don’t touch me,” the man hissed. “You’re working here, huh?” He looked up and down at Dean, noticing the apron of the café he was wearing. “Must be the manager here. Well, your employee here is worthless, you should be careful who you hire, for fuck sake!”

At that, Dean couldn’t help but wince. That was unnecessary rude to say. He glanced at Y/n again and felt his heartbeat with pain. Her head was down, probably to hide tears. That was probably not the first time she had to serve asshole customers, but it was the first time Dean noticed it. Working in customer service was not easy at all, you had to be strong to endure all of that everyday.

He only knew Y/n for about two weeks, but he already knew a lot about her. She was calm. Kind. She cared about doing her job right. Yeah, she was a bit bossy and used every opportunity to send subtle little insults towards Dean just enough to annoy him, like how he couldn’t even do a coffee, in this economy? But it was never mean and he liked that side of her that didn’t let people step on her toes. But right now, in front of that man? She was small. She wanted to hide. It wasn’t the Y/n he knew.

“I’m not the boss,” Dean answered finally, placing his gaze back on the man. “But we’re closed, so I’m gonna ask you to leave.”

The rude customer was the last one in the café, so it wasn’t like he was breaking any rules. And he was Dean Winchester. He made the rules.

Red seemed to eat at the man’s face so much he was angry. “Not before I get what I fucking paid for!” He started yelling. Dean didn’t mind being screamed at, he was used to it with his dad, how sad it sounded. But when the man turned to Y/n to yell at her, Dean couldn’t hold himself back. “You useless cunt!”

“I said, out!” Dean grabbed the customer by the neck and quickly sent him backwards. His legs met the table right behind him, but it wasn’t enough to make him understand. The man lunged forward in an attempt to hit Dean, but he didn’t know.

Dean was waiting for it.

The fist missed, and the man stumbled into the void and collapsed on the floor like a clown. 

“This isn’t over,” the man growled and got up. Sure he would strike again, Dean was ready to fight. But this time, the fist didn’t miss. The pain came later, a few seconds after the hunter realized he got hit in the face. Fortunately for his ego, Dean managed to stay on his feet and not fall pathetically on the floor. 

He reached for the wound.

It was right near his left eye, it would bruise for sure.

With deadly flames in his green eyes, he looked at his target.

“Oh, you’re dead.” 

The rest happened quickly.

Dean decided he wouldn’t hold back anymore. As his head throbbed with ache and anger, he was about to hit with everything he got. But at the last moment, something interrupted him. A body, warm, soft, encircling his own, stopped him from moving.

“Please stop…”

Her voice woke him up completely. Shaking, she put herself between the two men to stop the fight even if she was scared.

The man took the opportunity to run away, the bell chiming behind him as the door closed violently.

A long silence followed the departure of the aggressive customer. A couple of seconds passed, then minutes, before she realized there was no silence actually. Things were happening around her, words were spoken, and the only person besides her was running around locking doors and closing blinds, cursing every word he could think of at the moment.

Her hearing was nothing but a shrill sound, almost painful, like she was deaf. It took another minute and him calling her name for her to come back to the present.

"You okay? He didn't hurt you?" Dean was kneeling in front of her. She finally noticed she was sitting down on a chair. Shaking her head, she tapped her hands in her face to finish waking herself up from her slumber.

"You're hurt and you ask me if I'm okay?" She stood up as she spoke, Dean doing the same. Then she seemed to disappear in the backstore to come back with a bag of frozen vegetables they used for the soup. "Sit down," she instructed. 

Dean would have been impressed by her capacity to focus after such an event, especially with how she was a couple of seconds ago, but he knew better. She wouldn't meet his gaze, her head was down, and when he glanced at her hands, it was to see them shake.

"Y/n-" 

"Oh, come on, sit down, your masculinity won't suffer too much, I just want to check," she rolled her eyes and almost pushed him to the chair. Dean let himself be moved around with a smirk. That was the Y/n he knew. "There, it's not that bad, huh?" 

"It's no big deal," he tried to convince her, after all, as a hunter, he got hurt more than once before and healed perfectly fine. But when he saw her, he understood. And he let himself be checked by her only for her. To reassure her it was nothing, it was fine, it would bruise into a black eye and nothing else.

"Okay, it's not that bad," she sighed in relief as she said that.

"Told you," Dean snickered with a smile. "Ouch!"

The frozen bag was now on his bruise and Y/n was turning her back to him. His first instinct was to ask her if she was okay, check on her, after all, she seemed pretty shaken up, but he knew she needed time, that was all.

"We should call the police," Dean ended up saying. Usually, he would never propose that, but the customer was human. A monster in some sort, but completely human, so the police could take care of it.

"No!" She turned harshly towards Dean, surprising him.

"Why not?" 

Pacing back and forth, Y/n seemed to get lost in her thoughts. "It's not necessary, I doubt the customer will come back, and it would put the cafe in a bad spot, we would lose customers and…"

Again, Dean knew. Y/n was a good employee, she loved doing her job right, but she hated the place, hated the menu and the disgusting coffee served here, and hated the management. But they were the ones giving her her salary at the end of the month, so she couldn't disappoint them.

"I can deal with the boss," Dean said, standing up, the bag still on his eye.

In front of him, Y/n sadly shook her head. "It won't be necessary." She pointed at one corner of the cafe. Then another. "There's cameras around, and he loves to watch. Loves to tell us everything we do wrong. He probably already knows it happened. We'll see tomorrow, I guess," she sighed. Then, like a thought crossed through her head, she lifted her head completely and crossed gaze with Dean. "Your date! You're gonna be late!"

Dean wanted to laugh. So badly. Of course, he talked to her about it. Kristina, their coworker from the morning shift and Dean's date, was waiting for him. But after what happened, it completely got out of his head. Smiling, he shook his head and placed the bag of defrosting vegetables on the table beside him.

"I'll call her, say something came up. She'll understand."

Y/n cringed, biting her lips and frowning. "I don't think she cares enough to understand. But you're cute and sexy so maybe she'll forgive your ass."

Immediately after saying those words, Y/n became a puddle of embarrassment. Her body flushed with the realization of what she just admitted.

"Really?" Dean would not let that go. "You think I'm the perfect combination of sexy and cute ?"

"Shut up," she murmured between her teeth, grabbing the nearest thing, the cloth he was using to clean the tables, to throw it at him. "Get out of here your shift is over."

"Yeah," Dean surprised himself by what he said next. "But I won't let you walk back home alone. Consider me your cute and sexy bodyguard," he laughed at her reaction, but it was nothing compared to the sound leaving his mouth when he received another cloth on the head. "Hey, this one was wet"

"Oops!" 

-

The next day started pretty badly. After a complicated night with barely any sleep and lots of nightmares, Y/n got up early to get ready. Even if her shift started at 3pm, she knew the phone would ring and the ruthless voice of her boss would order her to come in to talk.

About what happened.

It was not even noon when it happened. She was at her third coffee, so she had energy even if she felt dead inside. Since she was already dressed, all she had to do was grab her stuff and head to the cafe. Like usual, she had to walk since she didn't have enough savings to buy a car.

The weather was quite nice, compared to how gloomy she was feeling. It was warm and sunny outside. Y/n barely made a step out, locking her door, that a loud engine startled her. The sun was reflecting strongly on the hood, blinding her as she walked with caution towards it, and for a moment she thought maybe it was the customer that found her and came to finish what he started. Fortunately she recognized the car quickly, as it was the same car that drove her home last night.

A 67 chevy impala.

It was even more beautiful than when she saw it yesterday.

The drive to the cafe was quiet, apart from the chichats. How are you? Do you feel better? So, did he call you too? Usually, Y/n would have commented on something random just to annoy Dean, but when he turned his head towards her at a red light to ask her a question, she saw the bruise around his eyes, reminding her of the night before and how everything was her fault. If only she hadn't messed up the order…

Once parked in front of the cafe, Dean stopped the engine to turn to Y/n. "Hey," he said in a calm and steady voice. "Whatever happens there, it was neither our fault."

"I appreciate it, Dean, but it was. I was in charge, even though I told the boss more than once that I didn't want to be, so what happens on my shift is my fault." Without leaving him time to answer, she opened the door and left the car to enter the cafe.

The moment she stepped inside, a loud silence echoed around her. Every employee stopped chatting to stare at her, the customers mimicking their actions, wondering what was so much more interesting than getting their order right and fast. 

Y/n hated that. The attention. The eyes on her. The silence. Her body started shaking, both with anger and humiliation, the tears almost painful to hold back. But then, as she was about to step towards the boss' office, a warmth settled on her shoulder, stopping the tremors at once. And a voice she was starting to grow fond of whispered near her ear.

"Ignore them. They don't matter right now."

With Dean, she felt safe. Strong. Like she could do everything and never feel afraid anymore. That was until they were sitting in the office in front of the boss.

“Y/n, I am wildly disappointed with you. What you did was beyond unprofessional, and I can’t believe I have to do this. You’re suspended.”

It was nothing less than what she expected from her boss. Since working there, she had done everything to stay in his good graces, sometimes doing other people's jobs to compensate. Everything to keep the restaurant clean and to continue serving fresh food every day. It wasn't Kristina who would write down expiration dates on perishable products, or place the new arrival of breads behind the ones already there to prevent the oldest ones from remaining at the bottom of the shelf, covered in mold. If this place passed the health inspection every year, it was thanks to Y/n’s efforts, efforts that no one had ever noticed or considered.

It was probably better that way.

Head bowed, Y/n took a harsh breath and opened her mouth to apologize and admit her boss was right. However, the words could not come out of her mouth fast enough, because someone else was already speaking.

“This is bullshit,” Dean exclaimed. A quick glance in his direction, and Y/n could see his hands forming fists on his thighs. “Y/n did everything perfectly, it’s not her fault if customers don’t respect anything, not even themselves!”

“Dean, I think you're new here,” the boss replied with a calmness that didn't mean anything good. Y/n tried to draw Dean's attention to her to signal him to shut up, that it was nothing, that she could survive a week suspended, but the young man paid her no mind. And one look at his face showed her the same anger she had seen in him the previous evening, when he had decided to defend himself against the customer. “I watched the surveillance cameras carefully. Your reactions with this client, although undoubtedly intended to be heroic, were completely unacceptable. The next time you make a mistake, you will suffer the same fate as Y/n. For now, take your day, see you on Monday, Dean.”

"That's all?!" This time, Dean stood up as he spoke. “Y/n gets suspended, and I only get a warning and a day off? What the f-”

“Thank you,” Y/n quickly cut him off, grabbing his arm firmly to silence him. Strangely, like the day before, her intervention seemed to calm Dean down very quickly. “See you next week.”

As she was about to leave, her hand still holding Dean's wrist to drag him out of the office, a voice called out to her.

"Two weeks. See you in two weeks.”

It took a lot of control for her to say nothing. The inside of her cheek hurt from how hard she bit it, dragging Dean out of the office and then out of the restaurant. It was only once outside, far from prying ears and vulture eyes, that she was finally able to breathe.

“FUCKING BULLSHIT! FUCK YOU!” Suddenly came out of her mouth. If Dean still had any anger at that moment, it suddenly vanished when he heard so many curses coming out with so much anger from the usually calm Y/n. “Oh. It feels better."

Having never seen her like this, it took several seconds for Dean to compose himself. Large green eyes were fixed on her, wide, shocked, even, until a good hit on the arm woke him up completely. "Ouch!" He rubbed his arm as if it hurt even though her fist had barely tickled him.

“What the fuck was that, seriously?! Talk to the boss like that? You’re born stupid or you’re just too dumb to think, fuck, Dean!”

Still as surprised and shocked, Dean didn't respond immediately. Y/n was angry. More, even. Beyond pissed. Which was completely normal under the circumstances, except Y/n wasn't normally angry. She could get upset, complain about the system, the management, the customers, or how she was the only one doing all the little things that made the café special and comfortable, but she was never angry.

“I couldn’t let him talk to you that way, I just couldn’t,” Dean explained calmly. It was quite rare for him to be the calm one in a heated argument. But in this case, he knew he had to keep his own rage to himself, she didn't need more anger. She needed to speak, to expel this emotion out of her like a demon that needed to be exorcized.

“Well, that was fucking stupid,” she pointed at him, her gaze meeting his. This surprised him again. Y/n was shy, although she was a good leader, and he noticed she had trouble looking people in the eye for several seconds. She always ended up looking away, and he knew it wasn't because she was dishonest, but rather that she was afraid of the judgment in the eyes of others. So that she was yelling at him while staring right at him… That surprised Dean again and made him speechless.

For a few seconds, he forgot that he was being told off by a girl for defending her, and lost himself in the contemplation of her magnificent orbs. Since he had known her, he had never really seen them, or bothered to look at them.

And her eyes were beautiful, even filled with anger.

Probably noticing the eye contact was getting considerably long, Y/n finally broke the almost trance-like effect to gaze elsewhere.

“Have you had it long?”

She was still not looking at him. "What?"

“The uncontrollable need to save the damsel in distress.” The corner of her lips lifted up in a smirk.

“I-” He couldn’t tell her that this was actually his life. Saving the woman and the orphan, killing the monsters, it was so ingrained in his life that it was part of him.

“Come on,” she muttered, still not meeting his gaze, gesturing to him to follow her.

"Come on… Where?" It was the longest conversation he'd had with her, and it was only because she was angry, he remembered. He was here for a hunt, he had to learn more about the people of the town. Concentration and focus were required, but yet... This side of Y/n, her confidence, how she wasn't afraid to yell at him like that, when she was normally so gentle...

He liked that side of her. Not that he disliked the rest, it was just-

“I think you have tonight off, and I, well, the next two weeks.” Starting to walk towards the impala, she then stopped and turned her head just enough to look over her shoulder at him. “I’m going to help you rediscover your manhood. Do you have any idea where you could have lost it?”

A big smile stretched Dean's lips. This was the Y/n he knew. “Probably over there,” he pointed to the horizon. “Near the pizzeria. You hungry?”

-

The pizza was the most delicious thing that had passed Y/n's lips in a long time. Very greasy and dripping with cheese, the junk food was simply good after such a catastrophic day. And sharing this moment with his colleague, accomplice, even, and perhaps friend- if he wanted to- was the icing on the cake.

Her heart always beat a beat and a half faster when he was near her. And although she tried not to like him, not to get attached to what was clearly a bad boy who preferred girls like Kristina, who just hung out with her because he had free time… She simply couldn't deny it anymore. What her heart desired was starting to win over what reason screamed at her.

Don't fall in love.

And yet, as that evening at the pizzeria after her suspension turned into an almost daily routine, her heart prevailed. The crush she immediately had for the young man with emerald eyes and cheeks covered in a milky way of little freckles was slowly transforming into something deeper.

A week had passed since her suspension, it was Saturday again, and as usual, Y/n and Dean found themselves at the pizzeria. The owner himself now came to take their order, even though he already knew what the two wanted since they always ordered the same thing. Everything was going exactly as usual, Dean recounting his day at work, how slowly everything was going downhill without her.

“I worked with a new guy, and son of a bitch, I’ve never seen someone take their time so much. It’s like he did it on purpose,” Dean sipped his drink. Y/n’s gaze followed the movement of the Adam’s apple rising and falling as he swallowed. She was barely concentrating on what he was saying. “We had two complaints that the sandwich bread had mold, but the person in the kitchen didn't get in trouble for it. It’s like the boss knows that no matter the wait time, the quality of the food, or the attitude of the employees, the cafe will always make money since it’s the only one in town,” Dean let out a little laugh which only spread the butterflies in Y/n’s stomach. “Let me tell you that over the past week, some regulars have stopped coming. Oh, and many have asked where you’ve been.”

“It’s not surprising,” she finally answered after a few seconds of silence where only the chewing of Dean devouring his pizza could be heard. On the table, near the windows, the dessert was already there, two slices of pie that the owner had reserved for them knowing they were coming. Her gaze fell on the dessert as she spoke although she really wanted to look him in the eyes. Admiring the perfect color of his orbs, admiring how everything was perfect about him. It was so difficult. “What’s surprising is that the health inspection hasn’t closed this place yet.”

These words hung in the air for a moment, accompanied by silence. Finally glancing over at Dean, she found that he had stopped eating mid-bite, staring blankly at her. It was almost as if Y/n could see the gears moving in his mind.

“Yet.” That was all he said next, taking the time to finish his bite before continuing. "I have an idea."

“I could figure that much,” she laughed as she took her drink, anything to occupy her hands and look normal in his presence. Luckily he couldn't hear her heart thumping against her ribcage.

“We're going to avenge you,” he pointed ahead, at her, and that was enough for her eyes to move from his finger to his eyes. She managed to hold his gaze for several long seconds which seemed to her like hours of torture. "You'll see."

"See what? Oh, how cute,” a voice broke the bubble Y/n and Dean were in. She hadn't heard that voice in a week, and it had been the best thing her suspension had given her, except for all the time she'd spent with Dean since.

“Kristina,” Y/n muttered under her breath, her eyes immediately going to her pizza. A weight seemed to settle on her chest, pressing down hard with its gigantic pressure.

“Hey,” Dean greeted her, and the pressure thumped harder against her heart. “How you doing, Kristina?”

His tone was kind. Friendly. Sweet. Just like he was with Y/n. But with a bonus, he was flirty.

Obviously.

She was not special.

“Oh, I'm doing well, much better,” she laughed. “Especially since Y/n isn’t at the café anymore. No one is ordering us around anymore, right, Dean?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n could see movement. Raising her head just enough to have her in her sight without looking directly at her, she could see her hand on Dean's shoulder. Besides, she wasn't alone. Two other girls from the cafe were standing with her. Without looking at them, Y/n knew. She felt their gaze on her, burning, like vultures around prey.

“I actually liked working with Y/n,” Dean replied as calmly as ever. His words created a spark of hope in Y/n who this time looked directly at Dean. “It’s not as fun without her,” he continued.

“Oh,” Kristina laughed, and her two henchmen followed suit. “I know you want to stay in her good graces by saying all this,” she leaned towards him to whisper in his ear, but made no effort to lower her voice. “But you don’t need to. I think she's going to get fired. The customer came back to file a complaint against her.”

"What?" Dean leaned back slightly to get a better look at Kristina. Now he had his face so close to hers that only one movement was necessary to kiss her. And he had a perfect view into her cleavage. “But…” He turned his head towards the girl sitting in front of him, obviously not understanding why she was being fired and not him.

“You don’t have to lick her boots anymore,” Kristina put a hand on her hip. “I know she’s in love with you, but at this point, it’s pity, right? Spending time with her… Poor little thing. No friends. No boyfriend. Only feelings for those who don’t love her. Just like last time, always falling for the new guy.”

Her face was burning. Y/n was seething, with anger, with sadness, with humiliation. And the worst, the worst was Dean's expression. His gaze, which he constantly fixed on her, seeking to meet her gaze, wanting so much for her to grant him one look, was now stuck in emptiness. And a look of pure confusion made him frown.

Dean refused to look at her anymore.

It was too much.

“Ew, friends to friends,” Kristina added, as if the stabs she had already thrown didn’t hurt enough already. “Ew.”

Standing abruptly, Y/n slammed her hands on the table. Head bowed, her hair cascaded in front of her face, trying as best as they could to hide the tears that welled up in her eyes and inevitably rolled down her cheeks. A ton of insults raced through her mind, but they all got stuck in her throat with this lump growing and growing, until finally, the tears flowed.

One.

Two.

One fell silently onto the table. The other, on her plate, right next to the barely eaten slice of pizza.

Before the third tear fell, Y/n was already out of the restaurant and walking as quickly as she could towards her house. The tears continued to flow without her being able to stop them, but she remained silent. If she could control one thing tonight, it would be her voice. No sound would come out of her mouth until she was alone, at home, in her bed. Only there, she would let herself scream all this pain into her pillow.

No one tried to catch her.

-

“Good news,” Sam announced before his brother had even closed the door. “Get this. There was no monster from the beginning. It was actually kids who created the whole thing to attract attention. You don’t have to play barista anymore.”

"Oh." 

Looking up from his laptop, Sam fixed his gaze on Dean. The door closed slowly and he took off his coat just as slowly and placed it on his bed. The motel was shabby, like all the others, and usually, Dean would never place his precious leather coat on those blankets which he called "the most disgusting object the universe has known." He'd cleaned the covers several times to be sure, but the comforter had kept this unnatural color, so he still didn't trust it.

“Dean.”

“I'm going to take a shower,” his brother grumbled as he headed towards the bathroom, completely ignoring what Sam had just said.

“Okay, but-” the door slammed. “Okay.”

Sam waited for Dean to finish his shower for almost an hour. The only reason Dean Winchester would take such a long shower would be the fantastic water pressure, but having used this bathroom for over 3 weeks, Sam knew that really wasn't the case.

Finally, Dean came out.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Sam closed his laptop to put his full attention on his brother. The latter sat at the end of his bed, dressed with fresh clothes, his towel on his shoulder to catch the droplets falling from his hair.

“Have you ever dreamed of a normal life?” Dean answered his question with another question. At this, Sam rolled his eyes.

“I had a normal life before, remember? Before you picked me up to find Dad?”

Dean made a sound that was a mix of a sigh of guilt and a grunt of frustration, probably directed at himself. "I know but…"

“I can't believe it,” Sam stood up at the revelation. “You like working there.”

“Nah,” Dean slapped the air like he was chasing away the stupid idea. “Actually, yeah, but not anymore. Working in customer service is horrible.”

“I feel like there's a but,” Sam went to sit next to his brother on the bed.

“But,” Dean took a deep breath. "There is a girl."

Sam sighed. Obviously it was about a girl. “Have you slept with her yet? Because if you want to stay here for a one night stand, I swear-”

“She’s in love with me.”

Sam turned his whole body towards his brother, his eyes wide. "Oh."

"Oh."

“Do you like her back?”

At this question, Dean's face disappeared under his large hands. “I don’t know,” his voice sounded muffled by his palms.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

"I don't know!" Dean exclaimed, removing his hands at the same time. It was his turn to avoid looking at someone, staring at the void instead. “I don’t know what it is to love. How to love. If it’s love. It was never explained to me, you know, it wasn’t dad who would tell me how to know if I love someone.”

A silence followed his words, but not for long.

“With Jess…” Sam began slowly, as if the words he was about to say were poisonous snakes that could bite him at any moment. “It was simple. I felt good with her. She felt good with me. And together, we were good.”

“Okay,” Dean listened intently, as if the answers he was looking for were on his brother's lips.

“Do you like spending time with her?” He then asked.

Dean didn't even think for a second. "Oh yeah."

“When you're not with her, what do you do? You think about her, right?”

This time, Dean took a moment before answering. “Well, I worked at the cafe, so obviously I was thinking about her, since she wasn’t there but she used to. And then, when I finished work, I would go see her and we would order food or go to the pizzeria.”

“Okay, and then?”

"And then what?" Dean finally looked his brother in the eye. He still had questions, still doubts, confusion, but that was completely normal. A soft, understanding smile stretched Sam's lips.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“Oh, how I want to punch that shitty boss in the face,” Dean clenched his fist to mimic his words. “I never hit women, but that girl, Kristina, humiliated Y/n terribly earlier. And I reacted too late, she was gone and-”

He stopped speaking suddenly, as if enlightenment had finally reached his mind.

"And?"

“I have to join Y/n, apologize, I-”

“Dean.”

Stopping just as he was getting up and putting his coat back on, the green eyed man turned to his brother.

“If you're in love, I can't tell you, Dean. But I can confirm that you like her. But for tonight, let her breathe, these feelings are new for the both of you.”

At these words, Dean collapsed on the bed. “Oh, you’re probably right. I don't want to rush her, you know, she's so shy, but at the same time, so... Fierce. She's the perfect balance of sweet and spicy. And I let her down.”

To that, Sam didn't know what to answer. He knew that feeling, the one of having abandoned the person you love. That's how he felt ever since he lost Jess.

“I'm sure you'll figure out how to make amends,” Sam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Actually… I think I already know,” Dean turned his head towards him, green eyes meeting amber ones. Green eyes sparkling with a new resolution, probably very wicked. “And you, my dear brother, will be able to help me.”

-

Turned out, losing another employee during the busiest time of the year was a sufficient reason to terminate a suspension preemptively. And although, clearly, this did not seem to make certain employees happy and even less the boss who hated coming back on his decisions, Y/n was able to return to work after barely a week of forced leave. And also, strangely, the customer’s complaint seemed to have vanished from existence. Or maybe it was another lie that Kristina came up with to hurt Y/n.

And what a surprise when she arrived and saw the place.

It was depressing. Everything was messy and upside down, unopened boxes that needed to be refrigerated were lying around everywhere, and other products that needed to stay at room temperature, like syrups, ended up in the freezer. No rotation had been made, and it was with sadness that she had to note all the food they lost and throw everything away. It took her a long time, long enough for someone she despised to come and tell her how to do her job.

"What are you doing? Customers are waiting! Have you forgotten how to work?”

After making this more than derogatory comment, Kristina returned to her favorite position, the one that required the least effort.

Her heart was heavy. Filled and at the same time, empty. Since the last time with Dean at the pizzeria, she hadn't received any news. No call. No text. No, her heart wasn't big with heaviness, it was broken. Split. And now that she had returned to the café, she learned he no longer worked there.

Good for him, she thought as she put away one last box before heading towards the front of the café to deal with the customers. At least he was out of this hell. It was maybe better that way.

“Sorry for the wait, what can I get you?” The usual words were so ingrained in her that they came out of her mouth as soon as she was behind the cash register, without even looking at the customer.

“I would like you to give me the chance to talk to you,” a familiar voice said in front of her. That voice, low, hoarse, and so perfect. She had started to get used to hearing it almost every day. But this time, it forged yet another crack on her heart.

“Dean,” even saying his name was painful. The pain of a lost friendship and crushed hope. The pain of a humiliated moment, a bad memory where he had sat there in silence while she was being crushed as an inactive witness.

“Y/n. There’s no word to express how sorry I am for-”

An apology, of course, wasn't exactly what she wanted, but it was more than she had expected. He was there, in the flesh, in front of her. So, for once and although it was difficult because looking at him would hurt her even more, Y/n raised her head and stared into his sad gaze. Ready and open to hear what he had to say.

There was a sadness almost identical to her own in his beautiful green eyes. Guilt, regrets, he seemed sincere-

“Dean! I thought you had left the ship,” Kristina suddenly entered Y/n’s bubble, who didn’t waste a moment to move to the side. It wasn't unknown that Y/n didn't like being touched or having someone in her bubble, and Kristina knew it, so she did it on purpose. All the time.

“Excuse me, but I was talking with Y/n,” Dean replied in a neutral voice, almost annoyed, even.

“Oh, sure, you want to feel better about last time, but you don't have to,” Kristina continued, crossing her arms over her large chest.

Dean rolled his eyes and shifted his attention to Y/n. “I’m serious, Y/n. Come with me, I need to talk to you. And they don’t deserve you.”

Y/n's mouth opened, then closed, tears welling up in her eyes at an uncontrollable speed.

“Seriously, Dean, don’t you see how pathe-”

“Kristina, shut the fuck up. You’re bothering us.”

This really didn't please the girl who made an offended sound, threw an unimportant insult, and left without another word.

Once finally alone again, Dean was ready. Ready to tell the beautiful barista in front of him everything that was on his heart, even if he didn't really know exactly what it was himself. He had some in the past, girlfriends, one night stands, crushes on the most beautiful and popular girls in school, but that wasn't the same thing. He felt an attachment to Y/n, a different feeling that he couldn't describe. If it was love, he didn't know. But he knew he didn't want to lose her.

“It's a little too late to come to my defense,” her voice said instead of his. Taken by surprise, Dean's mouth opened then closed, like a fish looking flabbergasted. “Although I really enjoyed seeing someone tell her to fuck off for once,” the shadow of a smile drew on her face for a second, but quickly faded away. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work-”

“Wait,” Dean found his voice just in time.

“I don’t have time, Dean,” Y/n turned her back on him, giving him one last eye contact above her shoulder. Her eyes were filled with sadness and seeing her like that physically hurt him.

“On the contrary,” Dean insisted, a smile tugging at his lips as he knew the plan was going like clockwork. “You will soon have plenty of time.”

Seeing the obvious confusion spread across her face, Dean jerked his head towards the boss's office. This caught the attention of not only Y/n but also the other employees, because at the same time, voices were heard coming from that direction. Loud voices, displeased, and then the door opened.

“I am very disappointed with the state of this place. It's deplorable. I’m afraid I won't change my mind, the café is going to close.”

“Wait,” the boss looked tiny behind the person who had just spoken. Like the weight of reality was finally falling on his shoulders. Stomping him to the ground like a pest, just how he had always treated his employees. "You can’t, you don’t have the right!"

“I have all the rights, I am a health inspector, and this place is completely unsanitary.”

Witnessing the whole scene in the front row, like she was in the cinema, Y/n was jubilant. Finally. Finally this place was recognized as being good for trash. Finally, the boss got what he deserved. Finally, things seemed to come full circle and it was all over.

The health inspector subsequently introduced himself to the employees. He looked very young for this job, early twenties, probably, long hair parted in the middle of his forehead and hazel eyes, but regardless, he had done his job properly so Y/n didn’t care about the details.

“This place is going to close. But don't worry, you are entitled to unemployment compensation. Time to find something better for you,” the inspector finished his speech with a wink. If Y/n wasn't so excited by the idea of ​​being rid of this miserable job, she would have been sure that the wink was aimed at her personally.

A laugh brought her attention back to Dean who was still in front of her. As the health inspector informed the customers present of the situation and put a note in the door to say the café was permanently closed, Dean was giggling.

“You did this,” Y/n finally understood.

“Told you we would get you revenge. Now, can you please come with me and listen to me? I need to talk to you.”

“After what you did for me, lunch is on me,” Y/n laughed as well, took off her apron which she threw behind her, and left the café without a glance behind her.

-

“Listen. So uhm, how can I say this, so uhm… God, I’m so bad at chick flicks and emotional stuff.”

The two had been sitting at the pizzeria for about an hour and a half pizzas. The same place as usual, with the same order, but this time everything was different. It was not simply out of friendship that they came to share a meal, there was more. Hidden feelings, others clearly visible but which had not yet been addressed, and frustration mixed with regrets.

Dean had been trying for two slices of pizza now to say something, but would immediately turn red the moment he tried to open up emotionally. And Y/n couldn't even blame him, seeing the efforts he made for her, what he did at the cafe, for her, and now he was trying so hard to explain and make it up to her… He could say absolutely nothing and she would be satisfied.

“Take your time,” Y/n mentioned between mouthfuls, leaving all her attention on the young man in front of her who still made her heart beat so quickly. Of course, he had made mistakes, and to forgive him just because he had the best revenge for her was pretty stupid, but oh well. Love makes you stupid, right? “It’s not like someone is waiting for me.”

“It’s just,” Dean sighed and ran his hands over his face. Y/n's gaze stayed on the ring on his finger, a ring she had already noticed before. “Not easy to say this. I mean, not to you, but like, talking about my stuff like this. But there’s one thing I know I have to say, and here it is,” he finally seemed to find his bearings, beautiful green eyes anchoring into hers, his red cheeks creating a nice color contrast. "I'm sorry. Sorry for not saying anything when Kristina was there being a bitch. I guess I was taken up by surprise with what she said, but that’s no excuse.”

“Dean, it’s fine,” Y/n shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, she knew exactly what she wanted to say to him. She took a big breath, words and sentences forming quickly in her mind. And it all came out of her mouth as quickly. “I am not ashamed to like you. Not at all. Because you are nice. Pretty. Hella sexy. And I feel comfortable whenever I’m with you. And I like spending time with you, and always wanna spend more. I won’t be ashamed to think all those things about you, because they are true, and they only make you a better person.” Pausing her words, Y/n forced herself to keep her gaze on Dean's again. She noticed that since those words had come out of her mouth, it was easier to hold his gaze. “You don’t have to have the same feelings, I understand. You don’t have to reciprocate or answer my confession, I can already see how bad it is for you to express feelings,” she laughed briefly at his scowling expression. “What I’m trying to say is… Yes. I like you a lot. And if you only like me as a friend, well, I’ll take that. It might hurt, but it would hurt more to not have you around anymore.”

Phew. It was hard to say, but once everything was out, Y/n felt better, lighter even. A heavy weight was finally leaving her heart, but there was still a little left. That was pressing. And tightening with the question… What will his answer be?

Dean took a brief moment to think before answering. Everything had gone silent, neither of them were eating, and both were probably holding their breaths.

“I've only known you for a short time,” Dean finally broke the silence, and the breath left Y/n's lungs which burned as it passed. She could feel the “but” coming. “But…” And there you go. “I really appreciate your company. A lot. I don’t know if it’s the same thing you feel, or if it’s love, but for the first time in a long, long time, I don’t want to leave this town. And I want to continue spending time with you.” Hope was reborn in Y/n, a wave of indescribable emotions suddenly invading her. “I'm going to have to leave, eventually, for work, but... I really want to take a break and try. I don’t know if I can do it, have a normal life, be with you, and just quit my job, so… I can’t promise you anything. I will probably leave eventually, I have so much stuff to do and…”

“You know,” Y/n continued when she saw him struggling with his words, hope now so strong in her body that she was almost vibrating. It wasn't a confession of love, but it was even better. This attachment Dean felt for her was worth even more than any cheesy love confession from the romantic movies or books she loved to delve into. “I no longer really have any ties to this city. No more jobs. If… We realize that things are working between us, and that you need to leave, nothing stops me from coming with you.” Realizing that it was probably too direct since they weren't even together, Y/n quickly adjusted her mind. “But those are just random ifs and thoughts,” she hurriedly took a bite of her pizza, just to make her stop talking.

“Y/n,” raising her head, she looked back at Dean. The latter had a big smile on his face and shook his head, clearly amused by her words. “If I told you what I did for work, you would never believe me. And when you”ll see it with your eyes and will be forced to believe me, you’re going to want to run away from me.”

“You’re a secret agent then?” Y/n hurriedly said, her mouth still full of pizza, her eyes wide. “Wow. Impressive.” She laughed, and Dean nervously laughed with her. If only it was that, it would be so much easier. “It really reminds me of my uncle.”

“Your uncle was a secret agent?” Dean asked, amused by the change of subject and how she was easily taking everything he said to her.

She was really the right one. Maybe she wouldn't run away after all.

“No, actually. When I was young, I often spent time at his house, but my parents stopped visiting him. They said he had lost his mind. But I loved these stories of ghosts and werewolves, he always told me he hunted them, saving people, like a secret agent of the supernatural,” a big smile stretched her lips at this thought, past memories flooding back into her head. It was so long ago, but she kept good memories of her uncle. Expecting the same reaction from Dean, Y/n only met a shocked face, frozen in a position that didn't suit him at all. Eyes wide, mouth parted, his skin white like he actually saw a ghost. She waved her hand in front of his face. “Earth to Dean?”

“Y/n, what’s your last name again?”

Taken aback by the sudden question, she blinked once and then twice. “Uhm, I don’t think I’ve ever told you. It’s Singer, why?”

A long silence answered her questions and her face dropped a little bit. Why did it matter?

“Your uncle… What's his name?”

“Dean, I haven’t seen my uncle in almost 15 years you know-”

“Y/n.”

“Robert. It’s Robert. But I always called him…”

“Bobby.”

It was her turn to have her eyes widen. “Yeah…?”

“I think you and I have more in common than I thought. And you really need to meet my brother,” he immediately stood up and threw two 20 bills on the table. Standing up in turn, confusion filled her entire expression.

“Dean, that’s way too much for two pizzas- Dean?” But she couldn't add more, and the confusion turned into this small, pleasant flame in the middle of her chest when Dean's hand met hers. “Okay, but you’re going to have to explain it to me because I don’t understand anything.”

“You'll understand,” Dean's smile was indescribable because it was so big. But that smile was hiding something else. Secrets that his beautiful lips had surely sealed away for far too long. “Let’s go,” he walked outside, said goodbye to the restaurant owner, and led her to his car. But once inside, he stopped before starting the engine, frozen yet again as another realization hit him.

“What? Something's wrong?”

“You… uhm… might recognize my brother, actually.”

“Why, was he a customer at the café?” Y/n laughed, fastening her seat belt. This whole thing was so sudden, so random, she just wanted to burst laughing. She felt good even if she didn’t quite understand everything that was happening.

“It was the health inspector,” he finally started the car and backed out of the parking lot and onto the road in one smooth, sexy motion.

“Oh. Wait, he’s a health inspector?”

“Not… Really?”

“Dean.”

Silence.

“Dean, did you fake the inspection?”

“Not really?”

“Dean!”

“Please. I’ll explain everything once we arrive. Do you trust me?”

For a second, Dean took his eyes off the road and looked into hers, and she held the gaze for the entire second and saw nothing but honesty. Then, he turned his head and broke eye contact, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see his right hand raised slightly towards her, waiting to be picked up.

“Yeah,” she finally said, gently placing her hand in his. It was warm. Comfortable. And how he squeezed, tenderly but also firmly, showed worry about losing her. “It might be crazy and stupid, but I trust you, Dean Winchester.”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa​​ @wickedinspirations​@fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive​​ @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Supernatural Tag List: @peachyaliien @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl @this-is-me19

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278​​ @kazsrm67​​​ @wtrpxrks @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies​​​ @charred-angelwings @jensendreamland​ @deanswaywardgirl​​​ @happyt0exist @waynes-multiverse​​​ @djs8891 @mimaria420 @this-is-me1​​​ @syrma-sensei

[bedsyandco]

https://www.tumblr.com/hhughes/755036725477359616/httpswwwtumblrcomhhughes755036373372829696w

was it azalea's first time celebrating the 4th of july since she's canadian? imagine quinn being so excited to show her their family's traditions and such

and vi wears a bikini with the american flag and luke can't keep his hands off her and even gets playfully scolded by ellen lol

jim at the barbecue and quinn is helping him while azzie teases him about being a good cook

jack pushing vi into the lake when she's trying to tan and then being so worried about anyone other than him or daisy holding rosie in the water (she loves it)

them making s'mores sitting around the fireplace later and rosie drops hers on cole's foot by accident

and little rosie is soooo tired at the time of the fireworks so she's crying a bit in jacks arms cause she gets scared but she had the best day ever with all the uncles and aunts - 👩‍⚕️

gonna answer all of these individually because they’re all such good thoughts bestie and I simply can’t neglect any of them. . .

was it azalea's first time celebrating the 4th of july since she's canadian? imagine quinn being so excited to show her their family's traditions and such

it was azzie’s first time celebrating july fourth. her family was a little sad that she was gonna miss canada day (while she had time to fly between van and michigan , she just wasn’t up for the travels honestly) but she was really excited to spend the time with quinn’s family. there was even some extended family like little cousins and such which azzie loved because she probably won’t see those members of his family much during the year. it was really just nice getting to know his brothers, his parents and ofc vi and daisy. quinn was so excited to have her there and he was just so sweet. including her in all the family games, explaining the rules to make sure she didn’t feel excluded, he even made ellen make one of her mom’s desserts to make her feel a bit more at ease. azzie fit right in though, everyone adored her.

and vi wears a bikini with the american flag and luke can't keep his hands off her and even gets playfully scolded by ellen lol

vi wearing a bikini with the american flag print is just so violet coded to me for some reason? and luke would love it. luke and vi not being able to keep their hands to themselves is just so canon in this au at this point😭 they are always attached at the hip, connected in some way, pressing kisses at random places. they are just so touchy. at one point ellen is just like “will you please refrain from mauling your girlfriend in front of an audience,” and he’d just press one last kiss to violet’s lips before sending his mom a sheepish/apologetic smile. but everyone is used to them by now.

jim at the barbecue and quinn is helping him while azzie teases him about being a good cook

azzie, daisy and ellen sitting in lawn chairs close to the barbecue each with a glass of wine in their hands while they keep quinn and jim company. luke, violet, jack and rosie are playing some type of game on the grass. I do think cooking is something that azzie and quinn love to do together and for each other as a sign of their love.

jack pushing vi into the lake when she's trying to tan and then being so worried about anyone other than him or daisy holding rosie in the water (she loves it)

violet laying on the dock and jack just flipping her towel so she drops in the water. she’s perfectly fine, except for the little splinter in her palm when she clinged to the dock with one hand, cursing him out and promising to get him back but luke saw it happen and he wasn’t very happy. “you shouldn’t do that when she’s that close to the dock. she could’ve hit her head,” luke argues and despite violet reassuring him that she’s fine and her head was far from hitting the dock luke is insisting that jack take her safety more seriously. if luke was gonna take extra precautions to make sure he kept daisy and especially rosie safe whenever they were in his presence, jack could return the same favour.

them making s'mores sitting around the fireplace later and rosie drops hers on cole's foot by accident

this is so funny😭 he is trying so hard not to curse in her presence but fuck did it burn. “you are so lucky that you’re cute and I love you,” cole says, hissing as he lifts his foot to inspect the marshmallow that fell onto his foot. she gives uncle cole lots of snuggles afterwards and he completely forgets about it.

and little rosie is soooo tired at the time of the fireworks so she's crying a bit in jacks arms cause she gets scared but she had the best day ever with all the uncles and aunts

daisy and jack got her ear plugs just in case she still happened to be awake at the time of the fireworks but someone started firing theirs early and it scared poor rosie so bad, she definitely started crying and hiding in jack’s chest. but he gets the ear plugs and she lays on her dad’s chest while watching the variety of colours fill the sky, and her little snores fill the air shortly after.

[perfectlywrongformend3s]

Haunted-Conrad Fisher

A/N: I just had to write another one for Connie. I love Conrad so much, I think I like him better than Jere because I can kind of relate to him, but anyway on to the story. This is based off the song Haunted by Taylor Swift, but there won't be lyrics. 

-Samantha 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was tanning by the pool when I saw Conrad walking up to the house. I immediately felt myself smile. I think he could tell I was staring because he looked up to meet my eyes. 

" Hey, baby."   I said 

He stopped at the end of the lounge chair and gave me a smile. He then got closer which made me want to meet him in the middle. I finally felt his lips against mine and smiled into it. He pulled away and just admired me. 

" You are so beautiful. I don't deserve you." he whispered 

I let out a small gasp. I grabbed his hand. " I'm the one who doesn't deserve you. Cause you're so good to me." 

I pulled him down to me, which made him fall. We both let out a groan, but then got more comfortable. I wrapped my arms around him while rubbing up and down his back. I felt him kiss my bare shoulder in response. 

Conrad's POV

I could hear her heartbeat which was really calming me. I knew it was going to be super difficult when we parted because she makes me feel safe. 

" I'm going to miss you so much when you leave." I whispered 

She let out a sigh. " Hey Connie baby, please don't think about that right now. Plus I'm always a phone call away." 

I smiled and nodded. I then snuggled more into her which had her wrapping around my body tighter. These are the moments I'm going to miss the most. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was the day I was dreading ever since I knew it was time to leave the beach house. I don't want Y/n to leave even though I have Jere and my mom, I won't have them with me in college. I heard my door open so I looked in the mirror to find my beautiful girlfriend. I gave her a small smile. She walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. I then felt her leave a little kiss on my neck. I let out a sigh saying...

" I really don't want to say good-bye to you." 

She gave me one last peck on the side of my neck before going around so she was looking directly at me. She smiled and placed her hands on the side of my face. 

" Connie, I'm going to say this once. Don't think of this moment as a good-bye. I know we will see each other soon." She then leaned in and I could feel her breath. " I love you so much." I mumbled 

She smiled, " I love you to the moon and back." 

I then placed my lips on her until we got interrupted by Jere.

"Sorry guys, but um it's time." 

I heard her sigh which made me just wrap her in a huge hug. She then pulled away because she knew I wouldn't be able to let her go. 

" Come on Connie." she whispered 

I watched her walk out of my room before grabbing the last of my stuff to follow her. 

Your POV

I was watching everyone say their good-byes making me get sad again. I saw Jere walking my way so I gave him a sad smile. 

" Hey, no being sad, cause you can always call me." He started wrapping his arms around me. I hugged him back before pulling away. I then felt someone wrap their arm from behind, and I automatically knew it was Conrad just from his cologne. He then kissed the side of my head. 

" Don't forget about me Y/n/n." He whispered right by my ear

I let out a small giggle. " Never Connie." 

We then shared a kiss one last time before I hugged Susanna. " I'll miss you so much." I whispered 

She only responded with a tighter hug. She then pulled away and said. " Just make sure you are there for Connie." 

I nodded my head, which made her smile before sending me off. 

Jere's POV

I was watching Conrad admiring Y/n and thought how lucky he is. I'm glad he has her, I just wish Belly would see me instead of him. 

" Hey Conrad?" I questioned 

He turned to face me. " Yea?" 

 I smiled and told him, " You have an amazing girl. Just wanted to make sure you won't mess it up." 

He let out a chuckle. " Jere, I can promise you. I'm not going to be letting her go any time soon." 

I patted his back before walking back inside to check that I didn't forget anything. 

Seven Months Later

Your POV

I was walking back to my dorm when I got a call from Conrad. I smiled to myself and immediately pushed the answer. " Hey Connie baby." 

All I got was a noise back, which made me get confused before asking...

" Conrad, is everything okay?" 

Right after I said that I got nothing. He hung up on me. I was shocked to say the least, so the next thing I did was call Jere. 

Every time the phone rang I was getting more anxious because in my mind I thought our relationship was going well. 

" Hey?" 

I froze thinking if I called the right person. " Who is this?" 

" This is Justin." he said 

" Um okay, is Jere around?" I questioned rubbing my face 

" Yeah" He said and I could hear him start moving around 

I was growing more anxious by the minute. " Hey" 

I let out a sigh of relief. " Jere, thank god. I don't know what's going on with Conrad. He called me, but didn't say anything. He just hung up on me and he never does that." 

Before I could continue, Jere spoke up. " Y/n/n breath. Where are you?" 

I took a minute to calm down. " Um, outside my dorm building." 

" Okay good, and Conrad has just been going through tough times. I know he'll come around." 

I could feel air going back into my lungs so I said...

" Thanks for being here Jere." 

" You're Welcome, and never forget that I'm just a phone call away." 

Conrad's POV

All I could think about was how much it would hurt her. I never met for this to happen, but I started losing hope for my relationship with Y/n. I know Jere said not to hurt her, but it would make it worse if I lied every time we say I love you  when I don't feel the same way. I took a deep breath before grabbing my phone to text her. 

Your POV

I was now sitting at my desk doing some homework when my phone went off. I picked it up to find Conrad texted me. I felt myself smile, but that soon dropped when I read the first words. 

'I'm losing feelings. I know this might be a shock to you, but I'm not saying it's anything you did. This is all me. You were the best. I'm just not feeling the spark anymore.'

I didn't even know what to say to the message because I could physically feel my heart break in half. All I could think of was how happy we were. I always thought we would be together for the rest of our lives. Knowing that I lost the best thing is killing me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All right um, I’m not sure how I feel about the ending. I'm just hoping this all makes sense in my head, but let me know you want to see anything with Conrad or anybody. I'll write it, but it might take me a little bit. 

Thank you to everyone who reads these! 

-Samantha 

[cozage]

Made for Two

A/N: Should there be a part three? Let me know. But also kjdsfshdfh;elihfsd;hfdfdfrukhjdslfh I loved writing this. I almost cried a few times at how disgustingly sweet it is. 

Characters: gn reader x Sanji

Cw: some angst and sadness, reader going through a breakup :(

Total word count: 3.3k Brief Summary: You thought Zoro was the only person for you, but after a bad breakup, a certain cook attempts to cheer you up.

Part One < | > Part Four | Masterlist

Recipe for Two

Your fingers outstretched, seeking the warmth of another body on this chilly morning. You must’ve arrived near a winter island overnight, and the heating system hadn’t kicked on yet. Your hands came back empty, and you resisted the urge to cry. 

You remembered yesterday, Sanji’s kindness and his delectable food he had served up just for you. You remembered how he climbed into bed the night before and you curled into him, falling asleep easily for the first time in days. 

But he was gone now, and his warmth was too. You opened your eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them, trying to shake the disappointment of being alone again. 

You got up and changed into a new, warmer outfit for a new, colder day. It wasn’t until you stood at your door that you realized you couldn’t leave. Leaving meant facing Zoro. And you weren’t ready to see his mossy hair or his tanned skin yet. But leaving also meant seeing Sanji. Your hand rested on the door handle, weighing your options of stepping into the light or hiding in the darkened room. 

A double knock came from the other side of the door, making the decision for you. You swung the door open, meeting the blue eyes of your favorite cook. He looked surprised that you answered so quickly, but a smile quickly spread across his face when he saw you. 

“Morning,” he said, holding up a silver platter. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, but I brought breakfast.”

You smiled at him and stepped aside to let him into your room, but he stayed where he was outside your door. 

“I thought we could eat out on the deck today,” he offered, glancing outside. Your heart pounded in your chest at the thought.

He must’ve seen the panic in your eyes, because you saw his face fall slightly as he watched you waiver. 

“I suppose that would be okay,” you say hesitantly. The last thing you wanted to do was be out in the open for a long period of time, but Sanji made you feel safe. All you had to do was focus on him, and you’d be okay. 

The sun was still low in the sky when you walked onto the deck, and a piece of you breathed a sigh of relief. Zoro would still be sleeping for at least a little while longer. It would be unlikely that you would run into him if you could finish breakfast fast enough. 

Sanji directed you over to a table on the grass that was under the shade of the tree. Freshly squeezed orange juice sat in two glasses, and he pulled the chair out for you to take a seat. He placed the silver tray in front of you, removing its lid, and sat across from you. His own plate had food on it this morning, and you smiled at the change from last night. 

“You set the table for two today,” you say, looking at his plate. 

“You shouldn’t have to eat alone,” he returned your smile and raised his glass. 

You mirrored him, clinking your all’s drinks together, and took a sip before digging into the breakfast he had prepared for you.

“Ah,” Sanji said softly, looking around. “I forgot something in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.” He got up quickly and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you alone. 

You could hear footsteps on the deck above you, and your heart quickened as you heard them descend down the steps. Your eyes stay fixated on the food in front of you, scared at who you might find if you look up. 

“Y/N!” Nami’s voice pierced the air, and you felt your muscles relax at her voice. 

You looked up just in time to see the tangerine haired girl drop into the seat across from you. She casually grabbed a piece of bacon off of Sanji’s plate and began snacking on it. “How are you doing?”

“I’m…” You stop for a moment, trying to think about how to best answer that question. “I’m okay, I think.”

The navigator’s eyes light up at your answer. A smile flickers across her face, and she takes a drink of the orange juice sitting in front of her. 

“Really?” Her eyes slide over to the entrance of the kitchen, but she doesn’t say anything further. 

You laugh slightly and roll your eyes at her implication. “It’s not like that, Nami.”

“Oh, it’s not?” She lets out a loud and piercing laugh. “I heard he didn’t go back to the boys cabin last night. You’ve been around Sanji almost as long as I have, and you really think its-”

You hear a door swing open behind you, and she pauses. 

“It’s not!” You cry out, taking the opportunity to defend yourself. You turn around to find the cook, trying to get someone else on your side. “Sanji, will you please tell Nami that nothing happened last-”

You find moss hair instead of blonde, and you’re stunned into silence. You lock eyes with the swordsman for a few seconds, before he cuts his eyes to the table and food in front of you. 

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, turning away from you and Nami. You can feel your cheeks pink at the implication of his words. He slinks away, climbing up into the crow's nest.

“Good morning to you too,” Nami huffs at him under her breath, leaning back in the chair. “He’s been like that since…” she trails off, realizing her error.

You stare at your eggs, having suddenly lost your appetite. You hear a door swing open and the familiar click of Sanji’s shoes across the wood of the Sunny, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. 

Sanji’s sweet voice comes from behind you as he approaches. “I was thinking we could make macarons today, like we talked about?”

You hear his words, but you don’t respond. You can’t bring yourself to break your gaze away from the eggs on your plate. You hear the hatch slam shut from the crow’s nest above and you flinch at the sharp sound. A moment later, blaring music filled the air. 

“Stupid marimo,” the cook hisses. You can see him and Nami exchange glances with each other. “Do you want-”

“I’m fine,” you snap, blinking away the tears that were misting your eyes. You grab some toast from your plate and shove it into your mouth, painfully aware of Sanji and Nami’s eyes on you while you do it. 

The three of you sat in silence with only Zoro’s music to fill the air. Nami picked at her plate while Sanji lit another cigarette, and you did your best to eat despite the overwhelming urge to throw it up. 

“You don’t have to finish it,” Sanji said, watching you struggle. 

You didn’t respond. You just kept eating. You were thankful for Sanji’s grace, but you knew how much he hated wasting food. Thankfully Luffy saved you. He zoomed by, saw the food, and made a quick u-turn back to the table. 

“Sanjiiiiii,” he whined, looking at the spread laid before you and Nami. 

“You can have it,” you said, pushing the plate away from you and standing to your feet. Luffy didn’t seem to notice your mood as you walked away from the table, and he dug into the food you had abandoned with blissful glee. 

Sanji stepped forward and reached for your arm. “Do you want-“

“I’m not feeling well actually,” you said, dodging his advance to make a beeline for your room. “I’m just gonna go back to bed.” 

You stopped for a moment at the door, and turned around one last time. “Thank you for the meal, Sanji. It really was amazing.”

He smiled at you and nodded. “I’ll call you for lunch.”

You shook your head. “A knock will be fine.” And with that, you left the deck of the Sunny and returned to your darkened room. 

At lunchtime, a double knock came at your door once, and then again. Your eyes flicked over to the door, illuminated by the soft glow of the new fairy lights strewn around your room. But you stayed in your bed, safe under the covers. One more double knock came, but after a moment, you heard the soft click of Sanji's shoes receding away from your room. 

He knocked at tea time, and again at dinner, but you never got out of bed to answer him. Every time you heard him knock, a piece of you begged to get up and meet him halfway. But you could never get your body to move the way your mind wanted you to.

You didn’t cry. Not as much as you thought you would. You had a bit of a meltdown after breakfast, but it seemed like you had run out of tears since then. Now you were stuck in a state of immobility. Incapable of moving, incapable of caring. 

A few hours after dinner, a double knock came again. It came again, and then a third and fourth time. 

“Are you hungry?” a soft voice asked through the door after the fourth knock.

“No.”

He waited a moment before speaking again. “Do you want…company?”

You hesitated. You did want Sanji to stay with you. But you also didn’t. The whole thing was very confusing and entirely too much for you to process right now. 

“Y/N?” The cook called from the other side of the door. 

“No.” 

The reservoir of tears must’ve refilled at some point, because they spilled out onto your pillow as you heard his footsteps retreat from your room.

You tossed and turned for hours, the bed feeling too big to be alone in. You finally gave up on trying to sleep and got up to find something to eat. You wrapped yourself in a blanket and tiptoed out of your room onto the deck. It was still freezing outside, the winter climate lingering.

You were surprised to see the kitchen light on, and you peeked inside the window to see who was up at this late hour. 

Sanji’s back was to you, leaning onto the counter. He was reading the News Coo, an unlit cigarette held in his hand. 

Your hand raised to the door. Your knuckles rapped against the door twice, and you saw him tense at the sound. When he turned, he found your figure peering through the porthole and he smiled at you. 

Your heart soared as he rose from the chair and walked to the door, unbolting the lock he had in place during the night. He opened the door and held it for you as you walked in.

You walked towards the fridge, looking for something to snack on to ease your hunger. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which was your own stupid fault, but maybe you could find something to hold you over until tomorrow. 

“What are you doing?” Sanji asked. You could hear the snap of his lighter, and the familiar smell of fresh cigarette smoke filled the air. 

“I’m just going to grab a small snack, if that's okay.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he said sharply. You froze at his words, trying to understand. Was he really going to punish you so harshly for not eating any of his cooking today?

“Sit,” he said, walking over to the stove. “I’ll make you something.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know.” He sighed, pulling out some pots and pans. “But I want to. For you.”

You stood in the middle of the kitchen, dumbfounded at his response. He was being so kind to you, after you had avoided him all day and hadn’t even eaten the food he had worked so hard to make for you. He set the pots and pans down on the prep counter and turned, pausing to look at you. 

You stood there staring at each other for a few moments before he smiled at you. You searched for it, but there was no hostility behind his eyes. Only kindness.

“I need to get to the fridge,” he whispered, still smiling down at you. You blinked, suddenly aware of your position in the room. You shuffled quickly to the side, allowing him access to the refrigerator. 

“Sit down, my love. Please.” Sanji hadn’t called you that pet name since you and Zoro broke up, and it took you by surprise. You couldn’t deny that it sounded nice rolling off his lips. 

You did as instructed, and you silently sat and watched him cook. Sanji worked silently as well, the only sound that filled the air was boiling water and the chopping of ingredients. 

He ladled out two bowls of soup, placing one in front of you and the other in front of himself. 

“Why soup?” 

He smiled and took a drag from his cigarette, deep in thought. You brought a spoon to your lips, blowing gently on it while waiting for an answer.

“My mom used to make it for me,” he finally said. He looked down at his bowl as if he were trying to recall an old memory. “Whenever I wasn’t feeling well.”

It was the first time you had heard him mention anything from his childhood. Sanji talked a lot about the Baratie and Zeff when people asked, but he hadn’t mentioned his life before that much. And he certainly never mentioned his mother. 

“Did she teach you how to cook?” you asked, trying to tread lightly. 

Sanji chuckled softly to himself, as if he were thinking about a joke only he would understand. 

“No, that was Zeff. But she always supported my dream to be a chef. She ate everything I made.” You could hear his voice growing thick, as if he might start crying. “She was amazing.”

She was amazing. You tried to ignore the use of past tense in Sanji’s words, but it was obvious that it was painful for him to think about her. You allow the spoon to pass through your lips and take a taste. Flavor fills your mouth, equally bold as it is comforting. 

“I can see why she made it. It’s delightful.” You grab another spoonful and bring it to your lips, hoping this one will cool faster than the last. 

Sanji smiled, finally looking up from his bowl at you. His mood lightened and his enthusiasm returned to him. 

“Yeah!” He agreed. “It really is delicious, isn’t it? I love to make it, but it never turns out right when you try to make a big pot to share with everyone. It's a smaller, more intimate meal. It’s really just made for two.”

“You and your mom?”

He nods. “And now for me and you.”

You return his smile with one of your own, and you eat the rest of your meal in silence. You can’t help but thank the universe for working out to place this eager blonde cook on the same ship as you on this vast ocean. You didn’t understand how someone like Sanji could exist, but you were thankful for him nonetheless. 

When you finished your bowl, he took it from you and placed it in the sink. He ran water to start the dishes, and began cleaning up the rest of the kitchen. 

“Are you still hungry?” He asked, looking at you.

“No, no,” you say quickly, not wanting him to burden himself further. “That was perfect actually. Your mom knows what she’s doing.”

He smiled at you, but you catch a glimpse of sadness in his eyes as he turns away, and you silently curse yourself for bringing up his mother again. 

“Can I help with anything?” you ask, trying to recover from your slip up. 

“I’ve got it, thank you though. You should get to bed.”

You bite your lip and watch him stack up the dishes in the sink before he turns back to begin wiping down the counters. You really don’t want to go back to your room. And you’ve been alone all day, you’d rather not return to it yet. 

You walk over to the sink, and begin to scrub at the bowls with the sponge.

“You don’t have to-”

“I know,” you say. “But I want to. For you.”

You can see his cheeks redden at your comment, but he says nothing. The two of you silently clean up together, enjoying each other's company while doing your own tasks. 

When you both finish, you walk out onto the deck together. Sanji turns off the kitchen light and locks the door to discourage your captain from sneaking in for a midnight snack, and the two of you are plunged into the inky darkness of the night. Only a few soft lights shine on the deck now, and you can see thousands of stars in the sky above you. 

You gasp in surprise, and softly touch Sanji’s arm to get his attention. 

“It’s beautiful!” you whisper, excitement in your voice. 

“Indeed,” Sanji says, watching you. “Should I turn out the lights so we can see better?”

You nod, and the two of you walk around to extinguish the lights on the deck. You return to the grassy area and lay down next to each other, your eyes to the sky. The cold was already nipping at your nose, but you ignored it.

“Do you think we’ll see a shooting star?” you ask, looking over at the cook. 

He chuckles. “Maybe if you keep your eyes on the sky.”

Your gaze returns to the stars, looking for any sign of movement. After a few minutes of nothing, Sanji sighs in defeat. 

“We should get to bed,” he says sadly. “It’s too cold out here for us to stay much longer.”

“A few more minutes!” you beg in a hushed tone. You scoot closer to him and lay your head on his shoulder, desperate for warmth.

“Alright, alright.” He wraps his arm around you to get comfortable, and you snuggle further into him. Your eyes are still on the sky, but you can feel your cheeks warm from being so close to him again. 

You sit in silence for a few more minutes, waiting for any sign of movement in the sky. Your fingers and toes feel numb, and you can see your breath, but you’re determined to find one shooting star before you have to go inside. 

“There!” you cry out, and you watch a star streak across the sky.

“Make a wish,” Sanji mutters, and you can hear his teeth chattering through his words. 

You wished for warmer weather, for a night where the cold didn’t force you two inside away from each other and the beauty of the sky above you. 

But it didn’t come, and the two of you got up and turned on all of the lights that you had extinguished and quietly tiptoed back into the cabin area. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Sanji said, his teeth still chattering. He started to walk towards the boys room. 

“Sanji?” you called, and you saw him pause and turn back to you. 

“Yes?”

“Can I request company? Or is it too late?” You asked. You were thankful for the darkness and the cold. It hid the blush that rushed to your cheeks.

“It’s never too late for that, my love. Let me change and I’ll be over.”

You nod and return to your room, changing into warm pajamas to stay comfortable through the night. Two knocks came at your door, and you opened the door quietly to let him in. 

You crawled into bed, and he followed you. He pulled you into him without remorse, and his freezing fingers sent shivers down your back. 

“Are you as cold as I am?” he whispered to you softly. 

“Freezing.” Your cold feet rubbed against his legs to prove your point, and he stifled a laugh and he pulled his legs away from your assault. 

“Rude!” He whispered back to you, but he pulled you close to him and held you tight. He returned his legs back to their place, intertwined with yours. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

[saltsicklover]

Title: Fated to Run - Fated to Fly ꨄ︎ Part Two

Read Part One

Part Three Coming Soon!

Prompt from THIS ASK

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader SOULMATE AU

Word Count: 4000+

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Lots of Crying, Parent Trouble and Reconciliation, Insecurity,

We don't get to meet Bobby yet, I'm sorry!

My father's office looks the same. Honesty it has looked the same for as long as I can remember, and it's not just this office either. Every single one of my father's offices has looked just this way. Tan walls, that sort of sad, off beige color that every military installation, from this side of the world to the next, think outfit them so well. There's always a strong oak desk, sometimes it's pine, but either way it's always a sturdy piece of furniture that has no business around the thrown together particle board of the neighboring pieces.

My father has always brought in his own chair. It's faded leather is always well conditioned and it's warn in. Warn in just the way that when you sit in it, you can almost feel the ever lasting presence of the many years my father has sat in that very seat. He has hauled it with him all around the country, always in unaccompanied baggage so it would be sitting in his office and ready for him upon his arrival. He used to joke that if he made it there before his beloved chair, his time stationed there would be hell in a handbasket.

The day he got stationed at Top Gun as the Air Boss, that chair took it's rightful place behind the new desk. The same desk with empty drawers and too many files preemptively stacked atop it. But that's just how it is, right? After all, it's been that way since my father made Commander and things don't look to be changing anytime soon.

The decanter on his book shelf has been wiped clean of dust and fingerprints. No doubt filled with any run of the mill whiskey that may find it's way into my father's hands. It's an office staple, that decanter's about as old as myself, but the crystal still shines after 25 years, especially after a good cleaning. There's a bottle of good whiskey in the bottom drawer of his desk, sat beside a bottle of the best vodka he could find. Always ready for the COMPACFLT to drop by on a moment's notice, though the Admiral has never made himself known long enough to break it out.

I sit and stare out the windows, the ones that make up the back wall of his office. There's always windows, but strangely the size seems to correlate with rank. One might think it would depend on the building, on the base, on the climate or area of the world, but what I've come to find out is the higher the number on your Pay Code, the bigger your fucking office widows.

That, and the less time you have for your family. It seems the higher that Pay Code number, the more time I've managed to spend with clerks and assistants. More visitation with office windows and the low reflection that stares back at me as I try to focus on the air field. Aircraft take off and land, the service men and women knocking out their required flight hours as the sun moves its way throughout the sky. But still, there are times I catch my own eyes in that low light reflection, but there are less tears now. Or there had been, until that fucking incident at the airport.

Truth be told, I haven't stopped shaking. In that damn reflection of my father's office window I can see both my tear stained cheeks and the confused looks on Rhett and Jake's faces. The images twist together. It's all hurt, every last piece.

I'm sure the three of us would be a sight if we were all standing in the same place, the boys with those same lost looks, hurt flashing through there eyes, and me, red rimmed irises and damp skin. Skin that is already threatening to chap over from the way it stings. I should have savored the way they so fiercely defended me. The way they folded me into themselves and kept me safe. Isn't that what home is, if only so briefly? A lifted wing to a chick in the same way their kind eyes were to me. It's a shame, the way it all came crashing down with those four little words.

There's not even a part of me that doesn't ache when the memory of only hours ago runs through my head. Their touch still ghosts over my shoulders. Phantom fingerprints left upon my upper arms, still smoldering, smoking as they cool.

Friendship has to be written into the strands of the universe, it just must be. Hidden deep within the stitching, taking a back seat to the drips of ink that are marred into skin, so easy to see. Because if it isn't, my soul shouldn't feel this heavy. It couldn't feel this heavy. So it must be. It must be.

There's mumbling coming from just beyond the fire door of the office, voices that I can't make out by ear but I know those tell tale footsteps that can't help but get closer. My heart pounds in the same way his footsteps all but reverberate through the floor. The voices get closer, and closer, but I can't seem to focus on anything but the air field- the vision of my own red rimmed irises in the glass of the O-9 sized window.

"Sir, I'm trying to tell you that-" The words come through muffled then clear as the door nearly squeaks open. A call to DPW and those hinges wouldn't grind, but I know door hinges aren't exactly on the high priority list for a Vice Admiral.

"Birdie?" That damn nickname's spoken by my father, in that surprised tone that is just a little too irregular completely flattens all my resolve. The floodgates open, or moreover, they break, just as I turn to meet his eye.

"Hi Dad," The words come out too wet and too close to a sob, but we both just stand there looking at one another. In the time we stare at each other, the Earth has rotated almost two hundred eighty miles around it's access. Four hundred fifty kilometers in roughly fifteen seconds. His hand is still curled around the doorknob, the brass of the handle turned down just so. A Lieutenant stands next to my father, an apologetic look hung upon her features. The tightness of her bun pulls her eyebrows up, barely noticeable, but it makes her look a little more surprised, a little bit more of herself that's usually hidden under the mask, just barely breaking through.

It's another two hundred eighty miles before my father makes a move. He enters further into the office while the Lieutenant slips the door shut. I can almost feel how the handle must be warm beneath her slender fingers. The same warmth is rolling off of my hands; all of the nervous energy having nowhere to go but cycle out to my fingertips only to crawl back up my arms once more.

"Hey, kid," My father speaks after another moment passes, another few miles, "I- uh,"

There is so much hanging between us. After spending so many years arguing, instead of words left unsaid between us they all seem to be hanging in the air. Stiff and starched like a uniform collar, textured underneath my fingertips. The way they brush against my skin makes me itch as I inch closer. I wish to choke on them; on the words, longing for a moment that I had something else to say. Some sort of words found stuck somewhere between the tightness of my throat and the stickiness of my gums, lips dry and cracking under the pressure. Instead, they all still hang between us, a rickety old rope bridge while the few feet between us is a canyon's expanse.

The average argument lasts ten minutes, and families tend to have around a hundred arguments a year. That's a thousands hours of disagreements that stand between us over the last year alone. A hundred and twenty five words per minute. That's one hundred twenty five thousand words and I can feel each and every letter that hangs between us in this moment, thick between us like a fog. I can't seem to breathe.

The only thing that seems real is the hot tears falling down my cheeks and the sight of my father's downturned smile. There is so much pity there, or maybe it's remorse in the way one is remorseful for not appreciating a song the first time it's played through. It's the missing of the baseline and the way the bridge carries through to the end of the score. His eyes are gentle, in the way roses are- pricking, piercing from just the right angle.

"It's been a long time, Dad, I've missed you," The words have been hidden in the spaces between my molars, stuck there so long I barely recognized their honesty as they fell from my tongue. My lips catch on their sharp edges and I swallow down the acrid taste of bile and copper. Wiping at the new found streaks of tears, smearing them across the heat of my cheeks, my fingers come back tinged with watery mascara smudges.

"It's been too long, Birdie, sweet pea, too long," There's a slight hesitation in his tone, but it's all too genuine, in a way that makes my stomach turn. The nausea isn't new, not today. "How was-" I know he's going to ask about the last year, about the travel and the time spent in-between our arguments but I can't keep the words from slipping off of my tongue.

"I need to know about your Aviators," He stops, the words hitting him straight in the face leaving mouth hanging open mid sentence. His eyebrows scrunch with the narrowing of his gaze, the confusion evident in the way his head cocks gently to one side before he straightens it right back again. Parts of my father are slipping past the Admiral, like sand through fingertips, but he does everything he can to hold onto his hardened exterior.

"My Aviators?" There is so much hidden in the way the syllables crackle from his throat. He looks as though he has words still stuck to the roof of his mouth, words he keeps tonguing at to keep them hidden behind his teeth.

"I- yes," My brain is spiraling just a little to fast for my mouth to keep up. I can almost feel the way my nervous system is spiking, my neurons firing as my tongue tries to say the words in the forefront of my mind. The deep breath I force into my lungs does nothing to slow my thoughts, but my father's shoulders relax at the sight of my own shoulders dropping slightly. It's a shallow effort but it helps, if only a little.

"I met one of your Aviators today, at the airport," He nods in understanding, "Blond, tall, from Texas. Super nice. Said his name was Jake,"

"Jake?" My father huffs out, scrubbing a hand over his face. "A Texan with one of those shit eating grins?"

"He had a nice smile, if that's what you mean," I reason. The feeling of an impending argument is like static in the air, the hair on my arms standing on end as gooseflesh breaks out over my bare skin. That feeling is acknowledged with a quick glance between us, a look that has him moving closer to his desk. He picks up a framed photograph from it's corner before holding it out to me. I finally move closer, separating some of the distance between us. It's strange, being so close together after spending so long apart. I often wonder if that's how all children's relationships with their parents are after they grow up, or if my father and I are stuck in a unique form of perpetual misunderstanding. I take the photograph from his hand.

"This him?" He points at a man in the back row of the photograph, big smile and kind eyes. It's definitely him, that much I am certain of. There is just something so recognizable about that smile of his, the way the lines on either side of his mouth bend with a dash of mirth, bracketing perfect teeth. It's sick, really, how nice his teeth are.

There are a handful of other people shoved into the photograph together. Jake has his arm thrown around another man who sports a mustache and messy hair. That man looks at Jake like he emits pure light. Eyes squinted slightly with a smile too big to be contained with a closed jaw. That's Rooster. That's Jake's soulmate. There's no other explanation as to why the blond would be holding the other man so incredibly close, with his hands gripping into the material of Rooster's flight suit.

To Jake's other side is a woman. Her smile is smaller, almost practiced, but true joy emits from her eyes. With slicked back hair and sharp brows, she looks all business, like a woman not to be fucked with. But a friend, maybe? Her nametape is too small to read, but as one of the only women in the squad, she won't be too hard to pick out of the crowd. It's the man standing next to her that throws me. Another familiar face stands to her side, Rhett, only with shorter hair and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. My eyebrows scrunch, mimicking my father's expression.

"Yeah, that's him," I confirm, my eyes still tracking over the faces in the photograph.

"Why do you ask, sweet pea?"

"I met a man on accident, really, his name is Rhett, and his friend was with him, this man here, Jake. We actually ended up on the same flight" I watch my father nod in understanding, one of his hands coming up to brush at his nonexistent five o'clock shadow. I huff, averting my eyes for the next part. "I might have had my soulmate sentence encounter earlier this afternoon," The confession is sheepish at best. I don't meet his eyes. There's no point. I know the expression he wears now and I know I can't handle it in this moment. There's already been enough crying.

"Was it with him? With Hangman?" I watch from the corner of my eye as my father's eyebrows knit together impossibly tighter. His voice is pinched at the callsign, lips tight around it.

"Yes, it was him, but that's not really the point, Dad," My eyes trail over him in the photograph again, but I'm pulled back to Rhett, confusion gnawing inside of my skull, just behind my eyes, "How old is this photograph, because this is Rhett right here, and he told me he wasn't military," I want to ask him if he really knows his aviators all that well, considering the lack of acknowledgement on his features.

"That photo was taken after their last mission, wasn't more than a few weeks ago, right after they all graduated their advanced training. It's recent, and there's nobody in that squad named Rhett,"

"There has to be! This is him, right here next to that woman. I swear it's him!" My fingernail, all chipped polish and sparkles, clinks against the glass, my father leaning closer to get a better look before plucking the frame from my gently shaking hands.

"Sweet pea, I think you're mistaken," His tone sounds like his words are treading a minefield somewhere deep in his throat. I can't help but cough at the thought. That tension bristles between us again, electric like a storm. My fingers knit through my hair to keep from chipping more of my nail polish from my already scraped up nails.

"That," My father taps the glass with his finger, "Is Lieutenant Floyd"

"Lieutenant Floyd?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Floyd," There's a faux confidence in his tone, the same one he used to use when he would call home to say he'd only be gone a little while longer.

"Dad," I raise my eyebrows as I finally swing my eyeline back up to meet his, "What is Lieutenant Floyd's first name?"

He sputters a bit, a hand rubbing at the lack of stubble on his chin. There's a sort of furrow to his brow, one I recognize, even if the rest of his features are laid out in a way I have never come to know. My father has always been a sure man, steadfast in his actions, information spread out in his brain easy to access. This grappling for an answer is unlike him, but it makes him seem impossibly more human. 

"Oh, Dad," The words are spoken with slight exasperation laced in the low chuckle that springs forth from deep within my chest. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I'll just ask the very nice Lieutenant who let me in earlier, she seemed... knowledgeable," 

I am met with the deep roll of my father's eyes, his hands no longer scrubbing over his face, instead he rubs carefully at his temples. His reaction makes me grip a little harder at my hair. It's stupid, this battle between us. Something left over from the strife of my youth; what we clung to with white knuckles and bloody nail beds just to keep a semblance of a relationship. It's all adolescent animosity stripped to adulthood anonymity, achingly arduous. 

"Honestly, Birdie," The words travel on an exhale, "I don't know his first name. Hell, I don't know most of them, especially if they don't give me trouble. I've always called him Lieutenant, barely ever needed Floyd tacked on the end,"

My father shrugs his shoulders unceremoniously, plopping the photograph back down onto the corner of his desk. He leans back into the long line of his desk, his usually pristine tan uniform wrinkling with the way he almost folds in on himself. My tongue flicks over my teeth as I fight the grimace I can feel rising over my features. I try and school my face back into pleasant nonchalance, much like my father usually does, however I think it's a skill better mastered with each star pinned to his collar. 

"Can I say something?" There's too much honesty in the way the words crackle out. I nod; it's easier that way. My hands find home near my hips, my thumbs tucked into my belt loops in a shallow attempt to keep from continuing the pull on my roots. 

"For what feels like forever now, it's just been you, your brother and I against the world. Just the three of us, and I know not having your mother has been one of the most challenging things, for all of us. I know there has always been this bond that Arrow and I have had, and maybe it's because he is my son, or because he decided that the Navy was his calling too. Either way, I know that there's a foundation there, one that you and I just don't have," I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I do my best to blink them back. The more he speaks, the more the sight of him swims. 

"But, I want you to know that even though you and I have struggled," There's a little trace of humor there, but neither of us comment on it, "I love you so fucking much, kid. So much that my chest aches. And I knew this day was coming- your soulmate encounter. God, kid, I am so excited for you, but so fucking scared because you're my baby bird and I don't want anything bad to happen to you, I love you too much," 

There are tears steaking down his cheeks, a sight I haven't seen since my mother passed away. It makes my own chest ache in turn, seeing the strongest man I have ever known begin to crumble. With two quick steps, I am in my father's embrace. His arms are warm, cradling me into his chest, my face into the sandalwood scent of his collar. The stars pinned there less of an obstacle between us, now. He lets a land run over my spine, palm flat to my back, the warmth pooling through my top.

"I'll love you no matter what, kid, even if your soulmate is some military rat like me," He laughs,  low and rumbling, into my hair. 

"I love you, too, Dad, so much," I mumble into his collarbone, a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. I can feel my tears sinking into the cotton of his shirt, the tan darkening with moisture. He doesn't seem to mind, or if he does, he doesn't say a thing. We stand there like that for a while, embracing. It's my father who breaks the silence. 

"So, kid," He clears his throat in an attempt to hide the mangled bit to tears that still sits on the back of his tongue, "Tell me, how did it all happen? What did Hangman say?" The distaste in my father's tone is evident. I pull away from the embrace with a rueful laugh, one that stirs around that anxious feeling that's been ever present since the airport. 

"Well," The word is all sigh, "Jake, Hangman or whatever you call him, was on the phone listening to his voicemail and Rhett had asked him who the message was from, you know? It was a pretty long message," I babble out the last sentence, trying to get to the point, but the words are stuck somewhere under my tongue. 

My father just nods at me, allowing me the space to continue. Instead, I plop down into one of the chairs that sits in front of his desk, ones that are meant for official meetings rather than anxiety soaked realizations. I scrub a hand over my face before winding my fingers through my hair again, gentler this time. He stares at me, patient eyes and expression neutral. It's practiced, but genuine. I stare at he ground in front of my shoes when I can no longer meet his gaze. 

"Rhett asked who it was," I begin again, back tracking a bit, "And Jake looked at him and said Oh, it's just Bob and that was it. I've had these words on my skin for so long that I thought hearing them would be so easy, but Dad, I panicked," 

"Oh Birdie, it's okay," My father hums, giving me a small grin on the side of reassurance, "It's not always like the stories, the fairytales are just to give us hope, but that's not how life is supposed to play out. It's alright," 

"It gets worse," My words are wet, "I ran, Dad, I ran. I heard him say that and I ran out of the airport and into the first cab I could find. I came straight here, I didn't know what else to do. I didn't even stick around to figure out exactly who Bob is to Jake. God, this whole situation gives me as much anxiety as a baby on board a pond jumper, look at me, I'm shaking like a fucking leaf." 

"What did you just say?" 

"I said I'm shaking like a leaf, look at me!" I laugh, but it catches in my throat and comes out all gargled. I hold my hands out, watching the way they tremor at the thought of it all. 

"No, not that," My father shakes his head, "The thing about the pond jumper," 

"I dunno, Dad, it was an analogy," I reply, it's all furrowed brows and tired voice. as if it could be anything else at this point. I watch my father's expression turn quizzical, his eyes tracking though the air as if he's watching a hop. His nose twitches for a second before he schools his expression back. His hands tighten a bit around the edge of his desk, then he's clicking his tongue to punctuate a sort of silent eureka moment. 

"Come with me, kid, I think there's someone we need to go talk to," Then he's pushing himself form the desk and heading towards the door with the same conviction the Admiral meets everything with.  

"What?" I push myself from my seat but can't keep my shoulders from sagging. He's stopped at the door, turning back to offer just a hint more. 

"I think you and I need to go see Captain Mitchell," There's distain in his voice at the name. I bite at my lower lip, tucking my hands back through my belt loops. 

"Why do we need to see Captain Michell? Isn't he the man you can't stand?" I ask, following after him. The whole thing seems futile but a curiosity thrums between my ribs. We pass the nice Lieutenant's desk, her seat vacant, before turning down the hall. It's not long before we are out on the air field and heading towards one of the large carriers.

[hoe4sports]

“The world stops turning”

Caroline Graham Hansen x reader

AN: No trigger warning. This has been re written as of 31st of May.

You were fresh out of University, and for sure done with anything related to lectures, studying and assignments. You grew up in this silly little Norwegian town, Tromsø. You know, a place where you can see the northern lights, reindeers and polar bears! Well, the latter is not entirely true. It is just a dead polar bear stuffed for tourists to see and take pictures of. Regardless, you grew up here with your grandparents. Your father left when you were a baby, and your mother? You went no contact a few years ago as she put you through a lifetime of trauma. That is exactly why you decided that when you was finished with your bachelors degree in sports leadership, you needed to get out of this sad little town. It is always cold, and the town has winter for 9 months a year. Three of them are in complete darkness, no sun or no daylight. It’s just as bad as it sounds. That’s why you decided to apply for jobs pretty much anywhere but here. Places like Oslo, London, Greece, Australia (hello Sam Kerr) and even the us. You however ended up getting a job offer from the women’s department in the club known as Barcelona. It was just what you needed; Sun, beaches and Spanish women.

You decided to go to Barcelona a week early, you figured you had to take advantage of checking out the city and the nightlife! Barcelona had arranged this beautiful apartment for you downtown. It was a decent sized apartment in a new building with spectacular views from your bedroom window in the 23rd floor. You had never seen anything like this as you grew up very poor, and only lived in an apartment with your grandparents. You spent the first week checking out bars, restaurants and beaches. You also found a huge mall with all of your favourite stores! Naturally, you had to purchase new clothes as I was told that there would be an athletic dress code. Lululemon for the win!

You didn’t really meet a lot of hot Spanish women during your first week, but yoy made a few friends in the building. One of your closest neighbours, Ingrid Engen lived two doors away from you. She recognised me from a talent camp for 13 year olds in Norway. You had spent the first week getting to know each other, and when she found out you were going to be working for Barcelona; she was beyond excited. You two clicked naturally, and you went out to all her favourite bars, restaurants and shops. She really gave you the full experience! 

Fast forward to today, Monday morning. The first of August. At 5.30. Let’s just say that you regretted the last bottle of wine from last night. But today was the day! The day were you finally start your first “big girl job” and you bet you were feeling excited. You got your tired body out of bed and opened up the blinds in your apartment. The views were simply breathtaking. It was stunning! A beautiful sunrise with the most beautiful colors that you could possibly imagine. You made myself an iced coffee, and wrapped your fuzzy around yourself so you could sit outside on your private balcony. It felt relaxing. The air was crisp, the sound of the ocean was lingering in your ears and you could smell the salty beach. It was like a dream come true.

Your daydreaming soon became interrupted as you knocked myself intro reality. First day of your first job, right. You quickly made it to the bathroom and had a steaming shower. The smells of the floral soap felt like a full on aroma therapy session. You quickly got out of the shower and patted your body dry. Your blonde long hair dried and put in a half up half down bun and you did light makeup as your skin was tanned from the week in the sun. You always used some mascara, it really made your icy blue eyes pop. You got dressed up in what you had been requested to wear; Black athletic shorts, a black athletic top, your trusty black hokas and a hot pink lululemon jacket. It felt wrong, but your new boss had insured you that any athletic wear was good.  You grabbed my bag and you took a deep breath. One look in the mirror, some lip balm and you were out the door. This was going to be the first day of the rest of your life. 

*fast forward to being with your boss*

“Ah, and this office is where you will be working from! Feel free to decorate however you like.” The Spanish woman said. You nodded and listened as active as you could. “Here is your work phone, your laptop and your camera. If there is anything you need, you let me know.” she said as she handed over what looked like a tower of apple and canon products. You felt stunned. “Wow, this is amazing, thank you so much! I’m so excited to get to know the team, and I’m eager to get to work.” You replied as you sat down your new gear and followed the tall woman as she talked enthusiastically about Barcelona and their work culture. 

*Caroline POV*

Jonathan was going on, and on and on and on about what this season was gonna look like. I was tying up my white Nike cleats, they were brand new as the team wanted us to start fresh. I however, hated fresh and new and change. I liked stability, routine and same old. Why change something that isn’t broken?

The door to the hallway suddenly swung open. There was the head of staff, Maria. She was always so bright and shiny and talkative. Not really my way of life. “Ah, Maria, just in time!” Jonathan called out. “Come, come!” He urged and a blonde petite woman popped up from behind Maria. “This, ladies, this is Y/F/N. She is one of the new assistant coaches, and she will be primarily working with the wingers. With her, we will be unstoppable!” Jonathan said enthusiastically. The girl blushed, and smiled. “Hi squad, Im looking forward to kicking your asses on a daily basis”  she said with a cheeky grin. I was staring at her as I couldn’t remember why she seemed so familiar. “Caro, stop staring!” Mapi hissed at me. I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t staring” I hushed, but with no luck as the team was already making their way onto the pitch.

[gavisuntiedboot]

heyy babes!!! idk if ur taking reqs or not but i randomly had this thought of how would pedri and gavi act/behave/be around a gf!reader that's slightly fuller and she's just not in a body positive mood or like in general what's the vibe

unless that isn't up ur alley which i totally get🧍

love u❤️‍🔥

No Other

WARNINGS: mentions of e*ting d*sorders, poor body image, fat phobia?, and other similar themes. Don’t read if uncomfortable!!

"Are you sure you got your correct size?"

You looked up from your phone at the register and the woman standing behind it.

"Excuse me?" You asked, trying to make sure you heard her correctly. You were defensive and put off the question.

"Are you sure you got the correct size? For the lingiere? " She repeats, smiling sweetly at you, still holding onto your items.

"You don't think I'll fit into that size?" You asked, albeit a little more hostile than you intended, but you were mad. You had been feeling rather insecure in the way you looked recently, and this was not helping. You felt like everyone was staring you as you walked around the department store, judging your looks and figure. You felt the sales associate's brows raise every time you picked up something and put it in your bag. And now, as you were trying to make a 4-digit purchase, you were still being perceived as undeserving of the items.

"Oh my ma'am of course not! I'm so sorry I didn't mean it like that - it's just we can't do exchanges on the lingerie items, so we ask everyone to double check the size before. I'm so sorry!" The cashier replied, terror showing in her eyes at the possibility of offending you and having you not purchase anything. Your mouth opened and cheeks heated up, embarrassed at your little outburst.

"Oh, no I- I misunderstood you. My fault." You muttered, grabbing the bodysuit from the counter and checking the size again. It was the right letter, but it still made you sad that the letter on the tag was not an "S". You handed it back to the cashier, who packed you up as fast and silently as possible, thanking every deity she knew that you hadn't been offended. You swiped your card, grabbed your bags, and walked out of the store. Your friend stood there, scrolling through her feed as she waited for you. You walked up to her, glancing at her screen, and saw the last thing you needed: more girls that you thought were prettier than you. Tall and tan, large chests, flat stomachs, big butts and tiny legs.

"You ready to go get lunch?" She asked, recognizing your presence.

"Um," you said, looking down at your feet, "I think I'm going to skip out on lunch today. I'm seeing Pablo later and I don't want to be bloated." Biting your lip, you avoided the inquisitive stare she was sending you.

"You didn't have breakfast though, and you're not seeing him for another what? 5 hours? You need to eat something. Come on, we're going to lunch." She said, grabbing your hand and pulling you in the direction of the restaurant. You sat through lunch, picking little bits off your friend's plate, sipping on a Diet Coke and pretending that you had been hit with a sudden bout of nausea to prevent you from ordering your own plate. Your friend finished her meal, concerned looks persisting despite her saying nothing. She dropped you off at your place, rolling down the window as you walked off.

"Eat well at dinner with Pablo tonight, okay?"

You nodded and gave her a soft smile, waving as she drove off. The house was silent and still, just the environment you needed at the moment. Your phone lit up with a notification as you put your shopping down.

*@urnameoutfits just posted*

You opened the notification, finding photos of you from your date with Pablo a few weeks ago. You were in a pair of black leather pants, a dark green bodysuit, and some Jordan 1s for a casual dinner. You smiled fondly at the photo of Gavi’s arm around your shoulders, the two of you looking deeply at each other and smiling. It has been such a good night, one where you could both go out and enjoy each others’ company without worrying about training the next morning. You knew you shouldn’t, but you decided to take a look at the comments.

@user : they’re so cute together 😭❤️

@user : I neeeeeed those Jordans in my life!!

You smiled to yourself, enjoying the positive attention. You had spent a long time working to be comfortable in your relationship with Pablo. It was heart warming to see the public start to warm up to you as well. But then you continued to read.

@user : why would she wear something that makes her look bigger than the planet Earth???

@user : imagine being an athlete w a fat gf 😳

@user : a restaurant is actually the last place she needs to be right now

You quickly closed the instagram app, tossing your phone on the bed and breathing deeply. Your body image was something that you had struggled with since your early teens. It started with your family, who would always comment on the amount of food you ate and were always curious about your exercise. Then it was your friends in school, who always skipped lunch and using coffee or cigarettes as meal replacements. They would offer you clothes to borrow, but they just wouldn’t fit in the same way. It started to weigh on you physically and mentally.

You did a lot of work on yourself once you met Pablo, but not in the healthiest way. You refused to eat anything “unhealthy” in front of him, and pushed yourself past your limits of exhaustion with your workouts. You would go home after your dates and cry into your pillows, intense stomach pangs of hunger hitting yo through the night. This is how you persisted for the first couple months of your relationship. That was until he decided to surprise you one day after practice and found you on the floor of your bedroom, crying because your jean size had 2 digits in it. He dropped to the floor and pulled you into him, caressing your hair as you shook with sobs. You explained to him what had been going on, and you saw the pain deep into his wide honey eyes. He would have rather been stabbed than learn you were suffering.

Since then, he has worked with you to help your body image, and not just in the “he tells me I’m beautiful” way. One day after practice he found you curled up on the couch, teary eyed and doom scrolling through instagram models. He took your phone from your hand, and went through to remove anyone you followed for “body inspo”. He blocked the word “fat” and several other synonyms from your comments. He helped you find a nutritional therapist that you could talk to and get more help from than Pablo himself could provide. And obviously he reminded you through his actions and words that he thought you were stunning.

You walked over to the bag and pulled out your purchases. You had gotten a gorgeous black lace bodysuit that was going to hug every curve. As much as you wanted to just wear it out to dinner, it was still not socially acceptable to just wear lingerie to a restaurant, and so you paired it with a deep marrow cropped button up and a black skirt. Laying them out on the bed, you moved towards the shower, wanting to feel your best for your date tonight.

When you got out of the shower, you clipped back your hair and slipped into the bodysuit. It was a little tight, and accentuated more of your middle than you would have liked. You put the skirt on as well, and avoided the full length mirror in the room, running quickly past it to do your hair and makeup at the vanity. You smoked out your eyes and dried your hair, wanting to give off a “I was born sexy” type of look. Your phone chimed with a message.

[pablito ❤️‍🔥]: I’ll be home in 20 mins amor. Can’t wait to see u 😚

You smiled at your phone, finishing off your makeup while trying not to hyper fixate on the size of your arms in the mirror. You finished your makeup, and now it was time to finish getting dressed, your least favorite part of the experience. You walked over to the long mirror and stared at yourself in the outfit. Everything was wrong. Your shoulders looked too wide and manly, especially when paired with your arms. You felt your stomach looked larger than you thought it was, with virtually no waist to be seen. You turned to the side, grimacing in disgust. Your legs were too short and stocky. You felt that your face looked too round from the side. Wrong wrong wrong. You felt tears building, and you tried to hold them back as to not ruin your makeup. You didn’t want Pablo to know you had regressed.

You had a lot of low points on this journey. When you first appeared in Pablo’s life, you heard a lot of girls say you weren’t a threat because of how you looked - that they could steal him from you. Just when you had gotten over this incident, you found yourself in a TikTok titled “footballers with fat girlfriends”. And now it seemed everyone was eager to find an opportunity to berate your body.

Pablo walked into the house and shut the door, listening for you. He wanted to surprise you with flowers, and so he peered around the living room looking for you. When he didn’t see you, he moved quietly towards the bedroom, opening the door.

“I hope you didn’t miss me too much while I was- amor what’s wrong?” He asked. He stood behind you, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Your eyes were red from holding back tears, and once you saw the bouquet in his hands, the flood gates had opened. Tears were flowing freely down your face, taking your makeup and your dignity with them. Pablo threw the flowers on the bed behind him and rushed to you, holding you in his arms once again.

“Baby, what happened? What’s wrong?” He asked, concern and worry evident in his tone.

“It’s me. Im wrong.” You said quietly, tears still falling. He put one hand on each side of your face, cupping your cheeks and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Mi vida, don’t ever say that. You’ve been a blessing in my life since you entered it, and it hurts me more than anything to see you upset. What’s wrong?”

You looked at him in the eyes, seeing the pain and hurt and worry there. You didn’t want to be the cause of Pablo’s distress.

“It’s just… my body again. I know we’ve talked about this a lot but I’m just not happy with how I look. I never am. And when I get closer to accepting it I always have someone telling me I’m gross because I’m curvier. Even tonight I wanted to look good for you and I can’t even do that. By thighs and stomach are too big and stand out too much and I’m sorry that im never going to be pretty enough to deserve you.” You said, your last words coming out as barely a whisper as your tears began anew.

At that last line, Pablo felt something within him break. He was staring at the love of his life, watching her shake with sobs because she thought she wasn’t pretty enough for him. And for what? Not being a size 0? His chest was tight and breathing shallow. He wanted to help you in any way he could. He wanted to give you his eyes from his skull if it meant you could see yourself from his perspective just for a moment. He wanted to declare you the most gorgeous creature to ever grace the earth. He wanted to be beside you at all times, making sure to other man ever got the full pleasure of witnessing your beauty. He wanted you to love yourself the way he loved you.

“Mi Amor, Mi sol, Mi vida. You are perfect. Every since inch of you is the definition of perfection in my eyes. Since the moment I met you, I knew that I would never look at anyone the way that I wanted to look at you. There’s no other hand I want to hold. There’s no other eyes that I want to see. There’s no other lips I would rather kiss than yours. I want to trace every curve you have until I can sculpt you from memory. I want to kiss every inch of skin until you start to believe how much I worship every part of you. I don’t want a skinnier girl - I want you. You’re the love of my life. My soulmate. And I believe, truly, that every single inch of you was created just for me. You are everything I want and more than I deserve, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to convince you of that.”

You brought your hands up to rest on top of his as you looked him straight in the eyes. You could tell he meant every word. You were his godsend, his gift from heaven, and he would never question the perfection of the Lord’s creation. He thought every day how lucky he was to be the one receiving your love.

You pulled him in and captured his lips in a slow, soft kiss. Tears were still falling, but now they were tears of happiness. Tears of love. You pulled his bottom lip into your mouth, licking along it, and continuing to slowly kiss him as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Pablo’s hands remained on your face, and he pulled you in closer than you thought possible. The kiss deepened, and neither of you wanted to break it. You both wanted to stay in that little bubble, lips pressed together and hands warm.

Pablo eventually pulled away, going straight back to looking in your eyes as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“You look absolutely breathtaking tonight.” You scoffed at this, rolling your eyes slightly.

“I’m being serious. That skirt, those legs, the color red on you… you look amazing.”

You kissed him once again, and then leaned your weight against his chest. You sniffled slightly, wiping wet mascara tears from your cheek.

“I’m sorry I made us miss dinner. And oh my God the flowers!” You said, bumping up to lit them in water. Pablo watched you scurry around, looking for vases and other things. You looked like you had been crying, but your eyes were softer now, and there was a smile playing on your lips.

“Don’t worry about it, amor. Your happiness is the most important thing to me.”

You walked back up to him, laying against him again as he turned on the TV in the bedroom. He looked down at you, catching a glimpse of lace from his top-down view.

“Amor, are you hiding something under that shirt?”

You looked up coyly through your lashes, blushing slightly and a smile on your lips. You stared undoing the buttons on your shirt.

“It was supposed to be for after dinner, but I think I’m going to retire it after today. It doesn’t look very good.”

You said this as you finished the last button, letting your shirt drop from your shoulders. Pablo took his bottom lip between his teeth, continuing to watch as you stood and removed the skirt as well. You stood before him, only covered by some thin fabric and lace.

“You’re right. It doesn’t look ‘very good’, it looks incredible.” He said, quiet and somewhat breathless. He beckoned you over and you crawled to him, situating yourself in his lap. He played with the hem on your breasts.

“You must have gotten this custom made, Amor. Who else has the body to look this good? Not one soul on this earth.”

You giggled to yourself and tried to hide your face in embarrassment. Pablo notices and started attacking your neck with kisses.

“Thank you, Pablo. I love you, you know that?” You said, sinking into the feeling of Pablo’s lips on you.

“I love you more. I’d do anything to see you smile.

~~~

A/N: hey guys! I got a couple requests to do something like this so I hope y’all liked it!! I said this in another post but I’m not a super curvy or plus size girl, and I don’t claim to me. I just would like to add some requested diversity in what the reader might look like. As always, I love reading feedback, so feel free to leave it in the comments or send it to my ask box. Love y’all ❤️‍🔥

[topguncortez]

Bad Medicine | Chapter 2

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

word count: 5.4k

synopsis: A wealthy Italian mobster sets up his daughter to marry the head of one of the last remaining mafias in California. The union was supposed to create and heal the damage between two families, but all it does is cause more harm than good. MAJOR SLOW BURN (ENEMIES TO LOVERS)

WARNINGS: death/murder, guns, violence, physical abuse, cursing, mentions of prostitution, mentions of murder, grief, blood, nudity, mentions of drugs, mentions of a brothel

Y/N’s apartment looked over the upper East Side of New York. It was a cute little place that was within walking distance to the club. It gave her both things that she loved, the chaotic life that came with living in New York, and privacy to where she felt safe coming home at night. And that was partially because of Rueben, aka Payback, her bodyguard that Rafael had hired when she moved back to New York. That was part of Rafael’s deal in sending Y/N back to New York, she had to have a bodyguard. Y/N was smart though, and could figure out how to leave her bodyguards in the dust and jet off around the world, except Rueben could see right through that all. 

Y/N stood on the balcony, taking in her surroundings for the last time. She hadn’t stood out on the balcony in a long time. Good and bad memories filled her mind as she held her cup of tea close to her body for some warmth. Images of her relationship with Francisco filled her mind and sent a shiver down her spine. She also thought about all the good times she had while working at the club. Sure it wasn’t the best job she could ever have, but she loved the girls she worked with. She was probably going to miss them more than anything. 

“Y/N?” Gianni asked softly, “You ready?” 

Y/N and Rueben had spent the whole night packing. She looked over at the small carryon and purse sitting on her bed. She packed the essentials to make the trip over. Her brothers would be sending the rest of her clothing in the coming weeks. 

Y/N took a deep breath, she wanted to tell him no. She didn’t know a thing about Jake Seresin, to the internet it was like the man didn’t exist. She knew that he supposedly studied law at University of Texas, but never went past that. He took over for his father when he had a heart attack nearly two years ago. It was all fabricated bullshit about “Seresin Enterprises” and how they bought several blocks of casinos and clubs in both Vegas and San Diego. Apparently they had been on the FBI’s radar for sometime due to an underground boxing and prostitution ring. However, they claim no such truth about it. Which was something all mobsters said. 

“Y/N, we gotta get headed to the airport. The Don is mad we held it off this long,” Paulo said walking into her room. Y/N sighed and walked into the room, leaving the warmth of the morning sun, “You got what you need?” 

“Yeah, Payback took my bags to the car,” She answered and fixed herself in the mirror. She wore a simple skin tight black dress and paired it with matching black heels. Her tan skin looked sunkissed compared to the dark colors. She looked around at her barren apartment and frowned. She didn’t have a lot of stuff to begin with, but seeing it all boxed up made her feel kind of sad. Y/N nodded, and Gianni gently led her through the house and towards the waiting car. 

“Wait,” Y/N said, and turned to face her brother, “Have you heard from Sophie? I haven’t heard from her since she left for Greece and I know she’d want to be a part of this wedding bullshit.” 

Paulo looked at his two brothers, as if to tell them to keep their mouths shut. Narciso clenched his jaw and Gianni whistled, looking away from his little sister. 

“I have not heard from Sophie,” Paulo answered, “But I’ll make sure someone reaches out to her.” 

“She’d kill me if I got married and she wasn’t there for it,” Y/N smiled sadly and pulled her phone out, dialing the number again. Paulo ushered her into the car as Sophie’s phone went to voicemail again. Y/N sighed and left her yet another voicemail. 

When Y/N arrived at the small private airport she noticed the black SUVs and armed men that were standing around. She would try and make a break for it if it weren’t for the military style weapons ready to fire at any moment. One would think that the president or some diplomat was about to land, but in reality, it was just some man from Italy. Although the Santiagos had slowly defeated their enemies over the years, some still lurked in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

The Don stepped out of his own vehicle when the Santiago siblings arrived. He looked pissed and Paulo fixed his suit as he walked over to talk to him. The patriarch stared his daughter down through the dark tinted glass of the SUV. She gulped and looked over at Payback who simply shrugged. He didn’t want to do this anymore than she wanted. 

“Do you want to make things easy?” Payback asked and Y/N nodded, “Don’t try and fight every little thing he says.” 

“You know me better than that Rueben,” Y/N smirked, and opened her car door. Her heels clicked across the ground as she walked up to her father. His stare sent a shiver down her spine, and it made her hold her head up higher, trying to show him that she was not afraid. 

“No funny business, Y/N. You get on the plane here and off in San Diego. I hear you made the pilot take you to England or Paris, I will cut off the expenses for the wedding,” Rafael threatened Y/N. The girl rolled her eyes, “We’ve set up for you to be married to Jacob in four weeks.” 

“Four fucking weeks?!” Y/N cursed and was met with another backhand across her face. 

“Watch your fucking mouth,” The Don yelled, “This is why you couldn’t find a husband on your own.” 

“Maybe if you would give me a damn chance!” Y/N yelled. 

“Why? So you could find someone else to murder someone in our family?!”

Y/N clenched her jaw and looked away from him. She had heard it almost every year since her mother’s death, Rafael never let her live it down. What happened to her mother was one of the worst things that Y/N and her family could’ve gone through, but no one knew that Francisco would turn his anger towards Marie. Her brothers forgave her for what happened, but Rafael still held it over her head. 

“Are none of you going to say anything!?” Y/N yelled at her brothers. They were all looking down at the ground, not bothering to jump in and say anything, “Spineless fucking idiots,” Y/N cursed and licked her lips, “I’ll see you in hell, Rafael.”

Rafael stood with his head up, his jaw clenched as he watched Y/N and Rueben walk up the plane steps. She sat down in a chair that was by the window. She watched as her brothers wouldn’t look at the plane, but the Don looked like he was ready to give an order to shoot it down. Y/N knew once the plane took off he would scold her brothers for telling her about Francisco, but the Don didn’t dare punish the boys in front of her or anyone else. People needed to know the boys were untouchable, but Y/N’s life was useless.

“Miss Santiago, can I get you anything to drink?” The flight attendant asked.

Y/N looked around the small jet and noted who the security was. There was, of course, Reuben and what looked to be like his new partner. Rafael hardly let Y/N go without two guards. The last one had been killed because the Don caught Y/N and him together. The new guy was all of 6 foot tall, with tan skin and a scar running down his face. His dark hair was gelled back and it looked like he had just bought a new black suit and dress shoes. Payback could see the glint in her eye and knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“Well, Rueben will have a Hangman IPA, I’ll take whatever red wine you have open, and a glass of whiskey for the Rookie,” Y/N smirked. Payback rolled his eyes, knowing Y/N’s plan like the back of his hand. This wasn’t the first flight he had taken with her and some new rookie, he had seen this episode before. 

“We can’t just have one plane ride where you leave the Rookies be?” Reuben asked, and Y/N just smiled, “You know what’ll happen.” 

“Then why not enjoy the fun while it lasts,” Y/N said as the flight attendant handed her the glass of wine, “Leave the bottle please, dear.”

“Laying it on thick,” Payback said, taking out his headphones. 

“My life has been signed away, Reuben. These are my last moments of freedom until I have to go wait on some mobster hand and foot,” Y/N said and Rueben frowned. He glanced outside the window to see that the black SUVs that carried her family were gone. 

“Fine,” He muttered, “Just know this one is on you.” 

“Of course,” Y/N nodded, her eyes going over to the Rookie who was seemingly confused. She just gave him a wink, and settled back in her chair as the pilot told them to prepare for take off. Y/N closed her eyes, she wasn’t ever a fan of planes taking off, she always felt like she was going to fall right out of the sky. 

Once the plane got up to cruising altitude, Y/N opened her eyes and looked at the Rookie, “Have you ever joined the Mile High club?” 

“N-no, ma’am,” He said. He had a thick country accent, making him out to probably be from the South. 

“Perfect,” Y/N smiled and stood up, taking his hand in hers and leading him to the private bedroom in the back of the plane. Payback groaned in annoyance, and pulled his earbuds out of his pocket. He settled them in his ears before going back to look through his magazine. 

“They never learn.”  

— — — ♱♱♱ — — — ♱♱♱ — — — 

When the plane finally touched down in San Diego, California, the skyline was already starting to light up. Y/N smiled, noticing the familiar sight of the skyscrapers in the distance. Rueben followed behind her, straightening out his suit, and looking at The Rookie behind him who had a smirk plastered on his face. He felt like the king of the world having bodied the princess of the Italian Mob. The Rookie fixed his suit jacket and ran a hand over his gelled back hair. 

“Good evening Miss Santiago, my name is Martin, and I’ll be handling your movement from the airport to the Seresin compound,” Martin was a middle aged man who had salt and pepper hair. Y/N held her hand out and Martin kissed the back of it. Y/N’s favorite pastime was making men bow to her like she was the Queen of England. In a way, Y/N was a queen, the mafia queen. If Y/N was into old men, Martin would be added as another name on her list.

“How was your flight? Everything went smoothly, I assume?” Martin asked, as he ushered Y/N towards the awaiting white Range Rover. Her father hated white cars. He said it made them stand out too much and put a bigger target on their backs. 

“Yes the flight went very well,” Y/N said, and glanced over her shoulder at the Rookie. He smirked to himself, and fixed his suit jacket. He felt like he was the king of the word having bagged the Italian Mob king’s daughter. But that feeling was short lived as Rueben tightened the silencer on his gun, and then fired a shot into the Rookie’s skull. 

“Clean this mess up,” Reuben said to the men standing by. Martin opened the door for Y/N, and she noticed a group of men picking up The Rookie’s body. She looked at Rueben who was tucking his gun back into the holster of his jacket. 

“What?” Reuben asked, and Y/N nodded her head towards the body, “I told you not to.” 

“Mood killer,” Y/N said and Rueben shook his head, shutting her door before getting into the front passenger seat. 

The Seresin mansion sat in the neighborhood of Mission Hills, which was about ten minutes outside of San Diego. Y/N had only visited a handful of cities in the US, and had only been to California once. She understood why mobsters picked quite poor towns to set up shop. The busy hustle and bustle of the nearby ports could mask the terrors that the mobs did. Y/N eyed the prostitutes as they hung around the street corners in downtown San Diego.  

“Those are someone's daughters,” Her mother used to say when they would pass a young female on the street in barely there clothing. Her mother would take them in, like stray cats, give them food and a place to bathe, before they would run off back to the streets they know.

“Everything is pretty close,” Martin explained as they drove through the busy streets, “It’s no European country side, but it suffices. Los Angeles is about two hours by car. San Fran is two hours by jet. Mr. Seresin has his own private jet. It’s one of the best ways to travel around. Sometimes, they’ll take a private train. Although, most of his work is done in Miramar or North Island.” 

She knew that from the google search that she did. Jake owned a flight club and a bar in North Island called the Hard Deck. It was a quaint little place that attracted a lot of sailors to the area. It also just so happened to be where his brothel was set up. If there was anything Navy men loved more than causing a fight, it was getting pussy after a long trip out to sea. 

“What is the legality of their business?” Y/N asked. 

Payback looked at her in the rearview mirror, “You know what they do.” 

“I can’t ask questions to get to know my future husband? I am going to be investing in this, so it is only fair that I know what he is doing.” She had a point and both Payback and Martin knew it. Y/N was smart and knew how to play her cards correctly, “Tell me what they do.” 

“Mr. Seresin’s grandfather set up a very vast trading company back in New York during the twenties. The Seresins own and control almost 50% of the US trading ports. Seresin Trades is working on going global with the help of Mr. Santiago. Mr. Bob Floyd has been fast at work creating Seresin Industries, one of the fastest startup technology companies,” Martin said. 

“A trading company,” Y/N tilted her head to the side, “How unique. And the brothels, fight rings, clubs, and casinos, those are just. . . extra amenities?” 

“Athena,” Reuben warned. 

Y/N held her hand up stopping Rueben, “Martin?”

Martin scoffed, “You act like your family is the greatest gift to God’s green earth.” As soon as the words left his lips, Martin regretted it.. Y/N glared at him through the rearview mirror and a cold sweat broke out down his back, “I apologize.” 

“A little too late,” Reuben said and Y/N smirked.  

If there was anyone who knew Y/N better than her own brothers, it was Rueben . He had become her personal bodyguard after Francisco attacked her and her mother’s death. Y/N had gotten too smart, she figured out how to run away from her guards. So Rafael hired Rueben , and the man watched her like a hawk. Y/N was never out of his sight. He had not only become her bodyguard, but also her closest confidant. She could tell him anything and everything. 

Martin’s knuckles turned white with his grip on the steering wheel, as he turned on to a magnificent compound. The black gates rolled back as the SUV drove onto the marble driveway that was lined with black lamp posts. Buried behind the trees was almost like a castle. The Kiszka house stood tall, at least 3 stories, and had a complete wall of windows. 

“Mr. Seresin likes windows. Makes him feel less caged in.” Martin said as he pulled up in front of the house. There was a large water fountain in the middle of the circle drive and Y/N could see water lilies floating around in the water. 

“Lovely,” Y/N said. When the car came to a stop, her door was opened. She reached her hand out and a guard gently grabbed her hand, helping her out of the car. She smoothed down her dress as Rueben  quickly rounded the car to her side, “Where is he?” 

“I believe they are at the club, or getting ready to go,” Martin responded. The glass front door opened and an older woman stepped out of the house. 

“Welcome Miss Santiago,” She introduced herself, and bowed her head softly,“I am Emile, I will be your personal attendant. Do you care for a glass of champagne, maybe even wine?” 

Y/N took a step into the house, and looked around the foyer. It had high ceilings that opened into a glass grand staircase. Everything was red and white, giving the entrance a cold yet warm feeling. The living room was open, and had white leather couches and a fluffy black rug on the floor. Hanging above a roaring fireplace was a picture of a young man in a black suit. She stood in front of the picture, the man’s green eyes were enticing and almost as if they were locking her in a trance. She looked away at the sound of the front door opening and Rueben walking in. 

“I’ll take a bottle of white,” Y/N said to Emile, “And please take the bottle to my room. Oh! And if you would, can you draw me a bath? I don’t like the feeling of blood on my hands.” 

Rueben scoffed, “You’re one to talk.” She could see a smudge of blood on his collar, more than likely from killing Martin before he walked into the house. 

“Yes, Miss,” Emile nodded and scurried off towards the kitchen. Y/N stepped farther into the house surveying everything. She walked over to a set of windows and glass sliding doors. She looked over the backyard, an infinity pool and giant garden that looked daunting at night, caught her eye. Y/N made a note of wanting to test the water in the pool at some point tonight.  

“He would like you to come to the office,” A guard said, standing in the doorway of the living room. 

Y/N turned around to see about ten or so men standing in the living room, all of them wearing black suits and ties. 

“No,” Y/N responded, a smirk on her lips. Her eyes not leaving the reflecting water of the pool, and kicked off her heels. She reached for the zipper of her dress and undid it. Payback also knew this tactic, and rolled his eyes. Y/N let the sleeves of her dress fall down her shoulders, and shrugged the dress off, wearing absolutely nothing underneath. All the men standing around her tried to avert their eyes the best they could, but failed miserably. 

“I want a bath first,” She said. 

“I can’t let you do that,” The guard responded. 

“Why not?” Y/N asked, stepping closer to him, “Do I turn you on?”

“I-I. . . Mr. Seresin  had strict instructions-” 

“I bet these pants are feeling pretty strict,” She let her hand shamelessly trail up and down his body, before landing over the clothed hard-on

“Please,” The guard practically begged. Y/N smirked as she gently palmed him, “You’re going to get me in trouble.” 

“What are you going to do about it?” Y/N challenged. Before the guard could respond another gunshot rang through the house. Y/N shrieked as the guard’s body buckled and she moved out of the way to let him fall. She looked over at a tall man with curly hair, holding a gun out.

“That’s what I’m gonna do about it,” The gun wielding man said. He tucked the gun back into the waistband of his black dress pants. He was tall with beautiful brown eyes with scars on his face and neck. Y/N smirked and walked over to him, but he held his hand out, “Don’t think about it. Let’s fucking go.” 

Y/N opened her mouth but squealed as he threw her naked body over his shoulder, “Hey! Put me down!” She yelled, hitting his back. The man tightened his grip on her body so he wouldn’t drop her as she kicked and squirmed in his arms, “Payback!” 

Reuben took a step forward to try and intervene but was cut off by guards standing in front of him, “Just keep your mouth shut!” 

Y/N felt a shiver run down her body, “I’ll fucking kill you,” She threatened the man. 

“I’d like to see you try,” The man said and tossed her down onto a cold leather chair, “Wait here, don’t fucking move.” 

Y/N looked around the office, seeing more pictures of the man from the living room. There was a bookshelf with tons of old leather books with gold writing. Y/N narrowed her eyes, reading the titles on the side, most of them were in Latin, but she could understand that they were law books. There was a large dark oak desk in front of her, which must belong to her future husband. On the wall behind the desk were various diplomas from colleges that he must’ve gone to. 

He’s distinguished, Y/N thought to herself, and smart. 

Y/N almost got out of her chair to go explore more things around his desk, when she heard the clicking of fancy dress shoes coming down the hall. She sucked in a breath as the door opened, and a beautiful blonde man with green eyes stood in the doorway. He was wearing all black, with his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He forewent the tie, and Y/N could see he was wearing a thin gold chain around his neck. 

“You couldn’t give her the dignity to walk in here by herself? With her clothes on?” The blonde man asked.

“She didn’t want to,” The man with the gun shrugged and looked over at a man who was wearing a big pair of glasses, with a smirk, “We lost Martin and Dominick.” 

“Fucking idiots,” The blonde cursed, “Welcome Y/N, I’m Jake, your new husband.” He held his arms out as if he were presenting some great prize. Y/N looked him up and down, he looked like the human version of Adonis, “My beauty stunned you into silence. It happens, sweetheart. But thank you for finally joining us.” 

Y/N scoffed, “You basically bought me from my father to help your little group here get up and running.” 

“Oh don’t flatter yourself sweetheart. You weren’t the pick of the crop I wanted,” Jake said, but then shrugged, “No offense.” 

“Offense taken,” Y/N said, “What? I’m not good enough for you? You prefer underaged prostitute pussy instead? I bet, he-” She said pointing at the man with large glasses, “Would you like a taste?” 

“Not my type either,” He said, “I like my pussy tight and silent.” 

Jake chuckled and Y/N clenched her jaw. He walked towards her, his green eyes looking her up and down as if he were examining her. She felt like she was under a microscope and wanted to hide away. She was suddenly very aware that she was sitting naked in front of three guys who could easily kill her, and had no idea where Rueben was. 

“Where are your clothes?” Jake asked. 

“I like being naked,” Y/N smirked, sitting back in the chair, exposing more of her body. Jake looked like he was about to murder everyone in the room. He looked from her face to her chest, his eyes seemingly assessing every millimeter of skin, down her stomach and to her legs, which were crossed hiding her modesty. Y/N caught the wandering eyes of the men behind Jake, and slowly uncrossed her legs, opening them slightly. That was the final straw for Jake, as he moved quickly, snatching her up by her chin.

“I was told I was getting a mafia queen,” Jake spat, holding her throat tightly, “We got rules, sweetheart, and you’re going to listen to them, got it? Or I swear to god, I’ll fucking sell you for whatever your worth to the highest bidder. I’m sure these-” He said, tracing his fingers between her breasts, his knuckles brushing against the soft mound of skin, “could get me a pretty penny. Of course, the face is a little fucked up.” 

Y/N clenched her jaw at the mention of the scar that ran down her face. Her eye socket had to be repaired and left a permanent scar, a constant reminder of what Francisco had done to her. It was easy for her to hide the other scars on her body, that one, was out in the open for everyone to see. Her mother told her to not hide what he did, to embrace it. 

“Understand me?” Jake asked and Y/N nodded. He released her chin. 

“Asshole,” Y/N said, before spitting in his face. Jake clenched his jaw, and grabbed her hair, yanking her head back to look up at him. 

“Don’t fucking test me, sweetheart,” Jake seethed, “I won’t hesitate to throw you down on the pew, I don’t give a fuck who your daddy is. Don’t fuck with me, doll.” Y/N trembled and nodded. Jake picked up her body and put her down on the wooden chair, harshly. Her ass still stung a bit from where the curly haired man had thrown her down earlier. 

“If you’re done being a brat, I’d like to introduce you to my right hand men. The one that brought you in here was Rooster, he’s in charge of security. You need to go somewhere, you take it up with him. If he tells you ‘no’ you don’t fucking argue. This is Bob,” Jake said, pointing to the man with the glasses, “He’s intelligence. Don’t try to fucking go somewhere or call someone or do something fucking stupid cause he’ll find out about it and I’ll kill you.”

“And what do you do?” Y/N asked. 

Jake smiled, “I’m the Hangman. I am the reason this whole place ruins and operates. The face of the family and the company.” 

“Bob would’ve made a cuter face,” Y/N said and looked at the man. Bob couldn’t help but chuckle, but Jake quickly shot him a glare. Y/N sent him a wink though, which made his ears turn red. 

Jake crossed his arms over his chest, “I’ve got a couple rules. One, don’t be in my way or anyone else's way. Two, don’t fucking speak to me unless you are spoken too. And three, don’t piss me off. If you follow those three rules. . . I don’t see why this relationship won’t work out great.” 

“Because you’re a fucking psychopathic murderer.” 

“Says the one who’s gotten three men killed in your first two hours of being here,” Jake said. 

Y/N smiled, “You say that?” 

Jake leaned his hands on either side of the chair she was sitting on. She could smell is cologne and see a thin scar by his eyebrow, “I see everything,” He spoke softly, “Go fucking clean yourself off. I don’t want to see your face until tomorrow.” Jake said and turned to walk out of the office, “Actually, I don’t want to see your face at all, unless I fucking ask to see you, which I probably won’t. I don’t want you here any less than you actually want to be here. If I knew you were a part of the expansion gun deal we made, I would’ve never fucking made it.”

Y/N tried to not let his words sting. She had heard worse from her father, but there was something about hearing it from someone else. Y/N turned her head to the side as Jake and the boys left the office with a slam of the door. As soon as the door shut, she let the tears roll down her face. She waited a minute before she got up from the wooden chair and walked out of the office. She was suddenly very aware that she was stark naked in a mobster’s house. 

She moved softly as she walked down the hallway, trying to avoid the eyes of the workers in the house. Y/N looked up and noticed Emile walking towards her with a robe. The older woman smiled softly at her and handed her the robe. Y/N nodded and wrapped it tightly around her body. Emile gently wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders, guiding her over to the grand staircase and up to the second floor. 

“Mr. Jacob and the boys went out for the night,” Emile said. She had a heavy french accent that reminded Y/N of some of the older maids back home at her father’s mansion, “I ran a bath and had some of the other guards bring your belongings into your room. Any specific way to put your clothing away?”

Y/N shook her head, “I can get that tomorrow when the rest of my things arrive. Thank you, Emile.” 

“You are very welcome, Miss,” Emile said, nodding her head as they stood outside one of the bedrooms, “The master bedroom,” Emile said, pushing open two wooden doors. Y/N’s jaw dropped at the sight of the bedroom. It was white with red accents that reminded her of the suit that Jake wore. Hanging above a california king bed was a picture of the fucker himself. Y/N scoffed, of course, he had a picture of himself hanging above the bed, “Mr. Jacob doesn’t stay here. He prefers a bed on the third floor with his brothers.” 

“They are all very close?” Y/N asked and Emile nodded. 

“Very close. They all served together in the Navy.” 

Now that was one thing the internet did not tell Y/N. That meant one of two things, they never served long enough to make an impact, or the Navy was trying hard to keep them all a secret. Whatever the reason was, Y/N was going to find out more about it. 

Y/N walked over and ran her hands on the satin bed sheets. They were soft and still smelled like the packaging. The room had an overall cold feeling to it, like no one had ever stayed in the room. Y/N could tell that the paint on the walls wasn’t the original colors. She could see the slight difference in paint colors as the walls met at the ceiling. She ran her hands over the footboard of the bed, humming to herself as she did. 

“Is that tune from ‘Annie’?” Emile asked, and Y/N lifted her head, smiling. 

“It is.” 

When Y/N was little, before she knew most about what her family did for a living, she used to play around like she was the little Orphan Annie first coming to Daddy Warbucks’ house. She used to play the song ‘I Think I’m Gonna Like it Here’ while running up and down the halls with her mother, making the butlers and the maids sing along with her. She did it at every house she moved into, it was one of the good memories she had with her mother. 

Y/N paused and looked at the picture above the bed, and then at Emile, “When will they be back?” 

“Oh, they stay out very late,” Emile answered, “I see them leave at night and stumble around the next morning with hangovers.” She smiled and sighed, “Your bath is waiting for you, dear. Any questions, don’t be scared to ask.” 

“Thank you.” “They aren’t all monsters,” Emile said, “Just a little rough around the edges. You know what they say, ‘only the good die young’.”

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