#except for drinking and drugs but we’re not doing that anymore that’s why things went bad in the first place

[gregolry]

.

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XX]

Word count: almost 18k

Warnings: the usual

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link | masterlist

A/N.1: It's been months, yet again.

Hi. Please don't give up on me.

Life has been... challenging to say the least. I'm taking care of myself;

I'll finish this freaking thing, though. I'm proud of it and I want to see it through to the very end, even if takes me way more than a year to finish it. 

Have fun.

 ______________________________________________________________

The sound of Renfield scratching his beard was awfully close to my ears. The fact that I could hear it at all while we were in a crowded tube carriage made me uncomfortable enough to shift my footing and create some space between us. We were close but never close enough for hugs, except for that one time in the hospital.

Today I didn’t have to humiliate myself by asking Renfield for lunch. When my stomach started gurgling earlier, he tapped two fingers on my desk and said that there was a new restaurant he wanted to try in Mayfair. So off across London we went to have lunch and delight in terribly expensive food as if we had won a case together. He paid for the meals and I the drinks. In truth, I suspected this was his way of celebrating my little show with the partners yesterday. 

“Are you stopping at the Royal Courts or going back to the office?” He asked me in a hushed voice. 

“Courts,” I replied. “I’ve got two sessions this afternoon, then it’s home for me. I’m calling it an early day today.”

“Your home or the Count’s?”

I cut him a slanted glance. “Aren’t you subtle?” He gave me a lopsided smile that told me I had fallen for his trap. 

“The Botanic Gardens are staying open until late this week. Something to do with a diplomat in London. He prefers to visit at night. Has Count Dracula been there yet?”

“You don’t need to play cupid anymore now that we’re an item.” I frowned. “And I don’t think he cares much for plants.”

“Merely a suggestion. He does like visiting remarkable places…” 

“I thought of taking him to the London Ey-.” I shut my mouth. Renfield was the one prodding but I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. I didn’t want him anywhere close to Dracula now that I had him back. 

“He might like it,” Renfield agreed. “So you’re an item? Is that what we’re calling it? Not newly engaged?”

“Oh, god…” I rolled my eyes and let my head fall in defeat. “I didn’t know what to say! My brain supplied the word ‘bride’ out of nowhere and ‘getting married’ was what came out.”

Renfield laughed. 

“Freudian slip.” He shrugged. “I thought you’d give them a heart attack.” I simply nodded to cut the subject short. “Was it before or after Mallory?”

“What?”

“When did you stop fighting the Count? Before or after Mallory?”

“I’m not talking to you about this.”

The tube jostled in its path. My hand shot up to hold Renfield’s arm and keep myself steady. He covered my hand with his own.

“Please,” he pleaded, eyes seeking mine with the look of misery. I tried taking my hand back but he squeezed it. “Y/N, I have nothing.”

I made a face at his choice of words.

“Why do you want to know?!” I knew the answer to that but the absurdity of him probing me for information struck deeper. 

“He won’t answer my calls. I’m not permitted in the foyer of his building. I have no means of seeing him or speaking to him. He cut all ties to me but I miss him. Oh, I miss him  terribly . Please, Y/N. What harm will it do if you tell me about him? What harm if he won’t even see me?”

Could I harm him by telling him? Would it be like waving heroin in front of a drug addict?

I stared into Renfield’s eyes. Dark blue and full of despair and loneliness.

Renfiled’s whining resounded vividly inside my head. 

“Why– he, he can’t… he can’t do this to me. I’ll be alone… Nobody, I’ll be nobody.”

And what if he was alone after I was no longer human? What if he became a nobody? He could very well isolate himself. He wasn’t a big talker or sharer. Soon, I would leave to spend my days - my life - with Dracula, and Renfield would be simply an Oxford professor. He could try to make the most out of his life. He could pursue all the things that a lifetime in courtrooms would have kept him from. Yet, I knew he wouldn’t. 

Dracula, even if he was not present, would keep him from it. 

Was Renfield’s life meaningful without him? Once he’d said it was not. I hadn’t believed him and still didn’t. But the desolation in his face instilled the fear that he would go to extremes if he was kept from Dracula, such as harming himself or taking his own life. 

Part of me wanted desperately to share all my fears about becoming a vampire, about dying and killing. But that would be selfish. If I was going to share anything at all with him, it would be for his benefit and to make him feel less lonely. 

I could make him a little happier before I left for good. I convinced myself it was for his benefit, not mine.

“It was before Mallory,” I breathed.

He closed his eyes and nodded in a sharp intake of breath. 

“Why did he hurt her then?”

“My fault.” It was my turn to close my eyes. “I got involved with Zoe Van Helsing and it all went to shit.”

“Doctor Helsing?” He raised an inquiring eyebrow. “How- oh.” He patted his trousers’ front pocket, interrupting himself, and grabbed his phone. I heard it vibrating in his hand before he answered it. I angled my face away to give the impression of some privacy yet I heard his conversation, at least his side of it. “...of course. No, no, I forgot, back to work you see. I can be there in a few minutes if that’s all right. Perfect. Thank you for calling.” He clicked his phone off and looked at the tube map above our heads, frowning. “I have to go to St Thomas to get my new prescription. Which way do I go?”

I pointed and circled a place in the map where the stations Westminster, Lambeth North and Waterloo appeared. Renfield looked at me dumbfounded. 

“We’re nearly here,” I pointed at Bond Street station. “Stop at the next station, Oxford Circus, and change to the Bakerloo line, the brown one, and that will take you to Waterloo. It’s a 10 minute walk to the Hospital.”

“How do I know which way I should get the tube?”

“You-” I sighed. “I’ll go with you. I don’t have court until an hour, that’s enough time to drop you off there and then you can get a cab back to the office. And you call yourself a Londoner,” I joked. 

“A Londoner with a car.”

 ______________________________________________________

Big Ben chimed as St Thomas Hospital came into view. Across from Westminster Bridge I couldn’t read the time, but when a second chime didn’t come, I presumed it was 1pm on the dot. 

“I found out he bit Diana and went to his house and, well, that was it,” I finished saying.

“What?” Renfield said at my side, a little louder than usual. Thinking he hadn’t heard me over the bell, I repeated what I had said. “I heard you, but what do you mean ‘that was it?”

I gripped my purse tighter as I glanced at him, trying to decide whether I should snap at him or not. He was prying, and had pried the entire way there, but now I couldn’t tell if I had been too subtle and he truly hadn’t understood what I meant or if he was being indiscrete. 

“Y/N?” He prodded as we crossed the road. 

Wind threw my hair away from my neck and before I could give much thought about what I was doing, I pulled the emerald green scarf from around my neck.

“You want to guess what happened next?”

Renfield’s gaze lingered on my neck. I instantly regretted showing it to him. After all, it was precisely this view that had set him off. At least if he lost it now we were close to the hospital.

I swallowed hard, preparing to feel hands crushing my windpipe, but not a hint of insanity peeked behind his eyes; there was a fair amount of jealousy though and maybe resentment. 

“I fought him for as long as I could,” I said, feeling an overwhelming need to excuse the mark on my throat. Or was it a need to make Renfield feel better? I tied the scarf again, my purse thumping my ribs awkwardly in every stride. “Until I couldn’t anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Love.”

My skin crawled when he laughed. I couldn't figure out if he was laughing at me or in satisfaction because he had been right. 

“You go on,” I said, nodding at the hospital and frowning. “I’ll take the tube again. I’ve got court.”

“No, wait for me,” Renfield interjected. I bit the insides of my cheeks. I had him back so I wouldn’t fight him, although he was impossible to bear at the moment. “I’ll pay for the cab. You can hail one if you like. Look, my doctor’s resident is here already,” he pointed at a tall, lean boy in a white coat walking towards us. “It will take but a moment.

The doctor’s resident and I exchanged a look. I recognised him at once, and although I thought he didn’t know me by face, his next step vacillated. Mine accelerated. 

“Very kind of you, Dr. Seward,” Renfield said, shaking the boy’s hand after he retrieved the prescription and put it in his pocket.

Jack’s big blue eyes danced between us. They were bloodshot. Probably just out of an overnight shift.

“How are you, Mr. Renfield?”

“Good, good. Better everyday.” The last part was said wistfully. “Ah, remember the good student I mentioned to you?” He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Y/N L/N, my pride and joy.” I blushed even though I knew he was joking. I couldn’t remember my dad ever introducing me like that to somebody.

“We’ve met,” I said, extending a hand to him. “Although not formally. Hi, Jack.”

His grip was limp. 

“Hello.” 

Renfield was frowning, apparently at a loss. 

“Jack is Zoe’s good student.” I smiled after using his own words. Comprehension dawned on him and he looked at Jack with a distrust that wasn’t there until a second ago. “At least you were, once. I haven’t thanked you-”

“Don’t bother,” he said between snarled lips. “I should have never helped you.” He spit the words with such anger that they gave me pause. He looked at Renfield. “Excuse me,” he said and left. 

“Wait, Jack!” I exclaimed. He didn’t stop. “Go,” I told Renfield. “I have to talk to him.” 

A harsh wind coming from the Thames opened my coat as I stalked after him. Jack shrugged off his lab coat and bundled it one hand. He was almost at the hospital’s car lot. 

“Jack!” I shouted. “For the love of god, I’m wearing high heels! Have mercy on a girl, will y-oof!” I collided face first with his back when he came to a sudden halt. There was an imprint of my lipstick on his blue jumper. I was wiping the corners of my mouth when he turned around. 

“Why do you want to talk to me? Apologise? Give your condolences?”

My face went slack. The tip of my fingers felt cold all of a sudden. 

“Zoe’s dead?” 

“If I hadn’t helped you-” he shook his head and when he did a tear fell to his cheek. “What was I thinking. Your life isn’t worth anything compared to hers.”

“Jack, I’m sorry. But I don’t know how helping me could have…”

But I did know. Zoe had never said but I knew she had been looking for a cure for her cancer. Dracula was the key. His immortality and invulnerability. 

When Jack sent me those texts at the wedding and I didn’t take those pills, the plan failed. Dracula was free because of both of us and Zoe had never gotten the chance of getting better.

Sorrow pricked at my heart but I refused to feel it. Zoe hadn’t cared whether I lived or died and I wouldn’t take the time to feel for her. 

“When did she die?” I asked.

“I’m not dead yet,” said the owner of the voice in question. Stunned, I turned on my heels to find Zoe behind me. Her skin was almost a translucent green. Bones poked through the little flesh that was left around her face. She looked small inside her clothes. “But I’m getting there,” she continued, giving me a weak smile. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Zoe,” I acknowledged, I stepped back so I could have both her and Jack in my line of sight. Narrowing my eyes, I looked from them back to where I had left Renfield. I expected to find him gone but he was standing in the same place, studying us. “Oh, so I see. I was your patient zero but you had Jack monitoring Renfield as well. Dracula must have cut your little experiment short, having released him the day before yesterday.”

“All my experiments have been failing as of late. I don’t grieve for them anymore.” She montioned her chin towards me. “I’m assuming there’s a bite under that scarf.”

“Save your judgments for yourself,” I told her. I watched as Zoe assessed me meticulously. I knew she was looking for traces of vampirism. If my skin still retained its colour, if my eyes were human enough for her liking, my nails too long or my posture too catlike. Those were things she had said that she always looked for whenever we met. “The bite is new.” 

“Oh, I know. You haven’t answered any of my calls since the wedding, so I had to take some unusual measures. I’m well informed that you spent the night with Count Dracula in Knightsbridge and that he was at your house yesterday. By the way you’re beaming, I’ll take a guess and say that this bite was consensual.” 

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” I asked, shocked.

“I had to know if you were alive. And if you were, if you were letting the bond control you.”

“There is no bond anymore,” I countered through the revelation. “I’m free.”

“At someone else’s expense,” Jack muttered. 

Glaring at him, I opened my mouth to lash out and tell him that I didn’t have to use anyone to get what I wanted like the both of them, but frankly what was the use of having the last word? Neither of them meant anything to me.

Zoe’s eyes, although clouded by pain, still retained its sharp intelligence as she looked from Jack to me. 

“We should leave, Jack, or we’ll miss the funeral mass,” she said, lacing an arm with his. “If you want to give your condolences to Count Dracula’s ex, the funeral is at St Mary’s in Battersea.”

My brows furrowed and then relaxed as things started making sense. 

Jack’s bloodshot eyes, his misplaced anger, Zoe very much alive before me. Dracula telling me just two days ago that he wasn’t seeing Lucy anymore and that he grew tired of her. .

I shivered.

“Lucy’s dead?”

“As if you didn’t know,” accused Jack. 

I was too shocked to even try denying it. 

“How did she die?” I dreaded asking the question but I had to know. 

“How do you think?” Jack shot.

“Exsanguination,” Zoe said softly. “It’s been ruled a murder. Scotland Yard is investigating. I suppose it’s convenient that Count Dracula has not one but two lawyers under his heel. He’s going to need it.”

“Because locking him up last time was such a brilliant idea,” Renfield interfered. I had heard his steps approaching from behind and gave him a space at my side. I was glad that he had come to my aid, if only to supply a voice to one of my thoughts. “When was Miss Westenra killed?”

Jack drew his thick eyebrows together at that as I snapped my head to look at my mentor. Clearly, Jack was just as surprised as I was that Renfield knew Lucy well enough to refer to her in that manner.

“Three nights ago,” said Jack, his frown deepening. “The night you were released.”

I cast my eyes to the ground trying to remember why Dracula had refused to meet me after I texted him. 

My message said that I was willing to talk and yet, for no apparent reason, he gave me an extra day of truce. 

Must have been too busy killing Lucy to talk at the time.

From what he had told me, he was resolute about making her a vampire and she wanted it. What had she done to warrant her death? 

“I’ll send my regards to her family,” Renfield said, bowing his head. “This encounter was most illuminating.” He flashed them a smile before lacing a hand around my elbow to tug politely. “We should also get going, Y/N.”

“Yes, I’ve got court. And Zoe?” She was turning away when I called. “Count Dracula knows about everything. And, you see, I’m still alive and so far he’s not angry, but the same might not apply to you.”

“Oh, using him to make threats already?” She opened a smile. “You two belong together.”

“I never needed him to threaten you. He can hurt you in several creative ways, I’m sure, but remember who you’re talking to. I have really good evidence on you to make a case.” My grin was all teeth when Jack paled. “Jack was truly a dear in helping me. It was nice seeing you.” 

Renfield and I turned around in unison, leaving Zoe with a pursed mouth burning holes through Jack. Renfield’s hand on my elbow was a little tighter than necessary. I snuck a glance at him as we both headed towards Westminster Bridge. Beneath his light beard, his neck was red. 

Contained anger. That wasn’t a look I liked on him. 

I stared forward. 

The Palace of Westminster’s towers cutting the grey sky suddenly seemed all the more fascinating. Rain would certainly come later; a common thing for London but even that was better to think about than an angry Renfield. Reason said he wasn’t angry at me in the slightest, nor had he reason to, but a good measure of caution, and a good memory of his scoldings, made me nervous to open my mouth. 

“Relax, Y/N. You’ll rip your purse.”

I glanced at it, and released the death grip I had on the strap. 

“I never saw Jack in the psych wing,” I breathed, sounding irritated. We were both angry, although for different reasons. “If I had I would’ve told you who he was.”

“He’s new. This must be his second week on the job. He began Wednesday after Evelyn’s wedding. Dr. Zoe Van Helsing is probably well connected to get Jack an internship so fast. Or luck struck just in time for him to start working closely to me.”

“Luck,” I scoffed. “Zoe must have been trying to get a hold of me through you and used him to do it. As a bonus, she’d get a look at Dracula’s slave,” I completed, bitter. He gave me a look. “You know she would. Frankly I’m surprised she didn’t have Jack in there with you from the moment you were committed.”

Renfield’s neck was still red, although the sour expression in his face had softened. I supposed he didn’t enjoy being watched anymore than I did. 

It was unsettling knowing that Zoe had been watching my every move since I stopped answering her calls. It no longer involved her professional curiosity only, but also revealed her obsession to chase what she wanted at any cost. That made her more dangerous than I would have liked to admit. 

“How did you know Lucy?” I asked as we started crossing Westminster Bridge. I was too tense to hail a cab and this wasn’t a conversation we could have privately with a cabbie listening. Westminster station was just across and that could take me to the courts just as well.

“She-” he paused. Silence extended long enough to make me look at him. He was frowning. “She was childish. A girl, frankly... Vapid and obnoxious but fascinated with death and the idea of it. I think she saw death as this big event in which she would be loved even more, adored like a deity for dying young.”

Memory ignited the conversation I had with Dracula on the hood of his car, about Lucy wanting to die and being needy.

“You knew her well, then.”

“Not well. We didn’t exchange more than a few words but I heard hers and the Count’s conversations.”

“How?”

“I drove them around London several nights,” he explained casually, as if he was used to playing chauffeur. I arched an eyebrow at that. “She didn’t know how to drive. So I picked her up, took her where the Count asked me to and sometimes dropped her off at her house.”

“Never his?”

“You’re awfully jealous of someone who’s dead,” he observed.

I gave him a bleak look.

“I’m curious , not jealous.” I laced my arm with Renfield’s, leaning on him. He looked pointedly at me but I ignored it. “I’m just trying to understand why he killed her. He told me he would make her a vampire. What changed?”

Renfield opened his mouth to answer but hesitated. A fly could have flown in and made him choke. Then, a crafty expression crossed his face.

“Ask him.”

“I’m going to but I wanted your-”

“Opinion?” He supplied.

I looked away, towards the dark waters of the Thames.

Renfield’s eyes glittered the same way as the river when he talked about Count Dracula. Ever since he had been released, the azure of his eyes seemed to have darkened. 

He was himself, more than he had ever been as of late, and I didn’t want him remotely close to the obsessive behaviour that made him attack me. 

Not needing to keep secrets from him was a relief but asking his opinion on the matter was excessive.

Renfield sighed. 

"There's a cab,” he said in a low voice, sounding tired. He untangled from me and signaled a black car. “You can’t be late for court.”

Pity made an uncomfortable ball at the pit of my stomach. I could tell he wanted to get involved, and liked it, but I wouldn’t give him his vice. At least, he didn’t insist much. This afternoon’s gossip about his former Master seemed to have been a good dosage to make him sensible to my hesitance. But for how long?

 ______________________________________________________

My feet hurt as I left the courtroom and I sighed heavily in the commotion of the audience that left along with me. The bustling sound of murmurs grew hollow inside the long and wide hall of the Royal Courts of Justice. Two prosecutors that I had the pleasure of defeating passed me, deep in excited conversation about which pub to hit first. 

The last time I celebrated a Friday and a week well done was over drinks with Count Dracula. An involuntary shiver shook me into motion towards the exit. 

I remembered the feeling of his mouth to my neck before biting me that first time, and how I thought that was merely a hickey. I almost smiled at the thought but my mind quickly shifted to the image of Dracula sinking his teeth into Lucy, a faceless woman in my imagination, after she had angered him. Killing her in a fit of rage. It happened quite frequently between couples and I had had the displeasure of defending the guilty part in court more than once. That I was possibly dating such a person, besides being a centuries old warlord and murderer, put an acid taste in my mouth. 

That could be fixed with a warm cup of tea - the acid taste on my mouth, not my murderous vampire -, I decided when I stepped outside to the freezing weather.

The sun was almost completely gone, hidden behind thick clouds.

The Twinings shop across the road, nothing more than a narrow door in a neoclassical design,  beamed in yellow light. It was Diana’s favourite brand of tea and while it wasn’t mine, it was the closest tea shop. 

Guilt made me snatch my phone out of my purse as I entered the warm shop. I hadn’t called Diana since disappearing on her, again.

“Look who’s alive,” she said as a way of greeting. 

I grimaced. Quite the opening statement.

“For now. Sorry.” I smiled automatically at the attendant behind the counter. Covering the phone’s mike, I asked her to brew me a cup as I shopped. “How’s Scotland?” 

“Nippy but good. Very good in fact. Remember the Sweden promotion?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” I didn’t. “Is it happening?”

“I think so!” She squealed excitedly, her voice echoing as if she was in a bathroom. Probably soaking in a bathtub, I thought enviously. “The Swedes work less than we do, I heard. Thirty hours a week. Can you imagine? I’ll have so much free time to work on my garden.”

I stopped in my tracks right in the centre of the store.

“But your garden’s here,” I argued.

“I’ll make another. I need to work less, Y/N. I’m not far from my sixties. Sweden will be a blessing.”

“Yes b-” I sighed. Was I actually going to argue about this? It wasn’t like I could have Diana forever. “You should accept it.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Mallory is mad, by the way, and extremely worried about you. She called me yesterday.”

The sudden change of subject unfroze me from my spot and I marched to the section containing a variety of black teas.

“She’s given me a lecture already. Save yours.” I grabbed two boxes of English Breakfast and one of Ceylon, then went to perch on the only stool available in the back of the shop.

A young couple sat next to me, their legs tangling as they talked in whispers. The attendant brought my cup of tea and the couple’s.

“Mallory’s not wrong. You’re changed. I agree that you should be careful.”

I shut my eyes as I tried sipping on the tea. It was just the right temperature and I gulped it unscathed. 

“So do I,” I said, frowning at the tea. It tasted like an old brew that had been reheated instead of a fresh one. I eyed the couple next to me but neither of them expressed any reaction.

“Oh. Good.” Then, after a pause, “You’re changed, but not in a bad way. You seem…”

“Happier?” I offered. Was I?

“Impulsive. Less controlling.”

“Thanks?”

She laughed.

“It is a compliment.” There was a harsh, distorted breath on the line which I guessed was Diana sighing. “Mallory said there are some things you’re not telling us. She thinks you’re too wrapped up into him to realise it but I’m old, Y/N. I’ve lived through all kinds of relationships before becoming a widow. I can see that you know what you’re doing and that’s what worries me. You’re choosing to ignore the danger of being with him.” 

“Trust me, Di, I’m not,” I said, as I lifted my cup to try the tea again.

“The danger to yourself, is what I mean. You know as well as I do how dangerous he is to other people.”

Tea sloshed inside the big cup as my hand jerked involuntarily. I forced my hand still to avoid spilling hot tea on my lap. 

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Di?” Nothing. “Are you still there?”

“I have to go. I think I can hear the room service trolley-”

“Di, do you-” I couldn’t bring myself to complete the question.

“Do I?” She carried on.

I sighed. 

“Nothing. Go get your room service. Bye,” I said, slouching on my seat. “Miss you.”

“Miss you, too.” Was that disappointment in her voice? “Bye, Y/N.”

The line went silent for a brief second. The soft ding indicating that the call ended was what prompted me to unglue the phone from my ear. 

Did Diana remember? Or was I reading too much into it? And if she remembered, why didn’t she say anything?

Being nearly killed wasn’t something people usually kept to themselves. She would’ve said something.

Gathering myself and the boxes of tea, I left my cup ignored and paid for everything with the cashier. 

Lights were coming on outside the Royal Courts of Justice as an early night fell. It wasn’t even 5pm. I could skip rush hour if I went home now, but then, thinking of my nearly empty cupboards, I decided rush hour wasn’t as bad as a growling stomach during the weekend. I hated grocery shopping, which is why it was a task I usually shared with Diana - I pushed the trolley and she picked up everything - but with her away, I couldn’t avoid it. 

Twenty minutes later, I left the Tesco Express down the road with the basics tucked in a few plastic bags. It was enough for healthy breakfasts for the next few days. I could always order lunch and dinner. 

I walked idly, watching the road for a taxi - it would take way too much malabarism to reach for my phone and order an uber - when I was suddenly hyper conscious of my surroundings. 

An unknown weight pressed on my shoulders likening the feeling of being watched.

I stopped. 

Eyes searching, I turned slowly on my heels, trying to meet the gaze of my observer. The hairs on the back of my neck raised as I thought about how many times I was spied on over the last few weeks, carrying about my day, having lunch with Mallory and weeping. My heartbreak, a mere novelty on Zoe’s little notebook. Every one of my movements accounted for.

I blushed as I wondered if my curtains were closed last night, and if they weren’t, maybe some peeping tom got a hell of a show of Dracula and I on the couch.

Passersby didn’t spare me more than a glance as I stared questioningly at each of them. 

The uneven weight of my bags almost made me lose balance as I spun again, looking quickly in the other direction as though to catch my spy off guard. 

A twin set of headlights shone on my face before the car maneuvered to stop a few metres away from me. The blinding light lasted only for a second but it was one precious second to make me reflect upon the phrase “deer in headlights”. 

The eerie feeling of being watched settled as I recognised the petrol black car and its sleek, daring design. 

I glanced at the stormy sky above me, the black tint of night starting to make its appearance through the clouds. Night fell quickly but for Dracula to be here meant he had left his home when it was light out. 

The front door sealed shut. 

Dracula was at my side not a moment later, taking my groceries from me and swiping my hair to the side to give me a kiss below my ear. His lips were warm on my cold skin. It sent a shiver up my thighs. A disapproving sound came from him as he fingered my scarf and stepped away. 

I hadn’t told him I would be at the Courts all day. It wasn’t the first time he’d found me all by himself. It had bothered me before but for some reason I felt the need to smother a chill this time.

“Hi,” I murmured, staring at him and trying not to blush. My skin tingled where he had kissed and the contours of his bite came alive, throbbing as my pulse quickened. One kiss, that was all it took. I would’ve been embarrassed if I didn’t remember the guttural moans that my drinking his blood the past night had evoked. I cleared my throat. “Did you just get here?”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t watching me from your car?”

“No. I just turned the corner and saw you-” He stopped, and then really looked at me.  “Was there someone watching you?” As he finished the sentence, he stepped closer, shielding my body with his. 

“I thought so,” I said, looking around me for one last time. He circled my shoulders with an arm and I stepped into this protection without much thought. “I’m a little on edge, though. Zoe said something today-” I felt him stiffen. Glancing up at him, he regarded me with a blank look. Blank meant he was giving me the benefit of the doubt. Cold meant a bleeding Mallory. “I met her by accident. I was with Renfield, at St Thomas. She said something about taking unusual measures to know whether I was alive after the wedding or not.”

“So you think she has someone watching you.”

“Watching us might be more accurate. I highly doubt she would rest easy if there wasn’t someone on you at all times.”

“Well, there used to be.” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Zoe never trusted me,” I defended myself. “She probably had someone else monitoring you as well.”

He bared his teeth in a grin. 

“If there was, I would’ve killed them by now.” He beamed at the possibility and, however awful the things he could do to said person, his pride was a little too contagious and I had to fight not to smile back. “There is no one watching you now. If there was, they left.”

“You’re sure?” 

He tipped his head to the side as if weighing the question, then nodded. I took a breath to argue.

“Let them watch,” he cut in, a suggestive glint in his eyes. “Zoe is curious, and maybe a little jealous.” He smirked. “That’s all. She has nothing better to do until she dies. Let her have her fun. Come on, I have something to show you.”

Dracula escorted me to the passenger side before placing my groceries on the backseat. When he sat behind the wheel, the BMW took no more than 3 seconds to go shooting down the street. 

“A little slower, maybe?” I suggested as I struggled to fasten my seatbelt. “I’m not a vampire yet and very much susceptible to death by crushing.” He flashed the road a smile, accelerated once again to make my spine glue to the carseat and then diminished the speed dramatically. “You said you had something to show me?”

“Ah, yes!” Extending an arm across me, he opened the glove box. He started reaching for something inside it but I touched his shoulder to keep his attention on the road. “The red envelope on the top. See it?”

Curious, I leaned and plucked the thin envelope from the glove box, shutting it with a knee bump. Dracula flicked the dome light on. Carefully embossed lettering identified the envelope as tickets to the Royal Opera House. The logo, a prancing lion and horse on each side of a crowned shield, was painted in gold.

“Are you taking me to a show?” I asked as I fished inside the teared envelope. I glanced at Dracula expectantly as I pulled two tickets out. “Oh. The actual opera? How fancy…  Winter Fundraising event  ,” I read. I was severely underdressed and skimming my eyes through the ticket, I breathed in relief as I found it was a week from now. “Opera arias, concertos and a symphony.” The ticket listed a few well known names such as Puccini, Bizet, Mozart, Sibelius and Dvorák.  And more , the announcement said. “Why the fundraising? Do you know?”

“I think it’s for the Opera House. Costumes, instruments and such. A sad thing, truly. Doesn’t seem to be as popular as it was in my time.” He pointed at the envelope. “There are  libretti  in the envelope as well, and the program for the night. Some soloists are coming to perform. I heard the violinist is particularly good. She’s German.”

Setting the tickets on my lap, I pulled two booklets from the envelope. They were both in a sharp white bordered by a bright red. Too bright a red. I swiped my thumb on a corner and then looked at it. 

“Something tells me this is not ink,” I muttered, showing Dracula the carmine red stain on my thumb. 

He glanced at it.

“You would be right.” Then, grabbed my hand and put my thumb in his mouth. “Hmm.” 

“You’re warm,” I observed when he let me go. “Did the person who sold you the tickets seem particularly tasty?” I asked, wiping the corners of the booklets on the envelope. “It is your breakfast, I suppose.”

“Most important meal of the day.” He chuckled. “I didn’t buy the tickets, actually. Found them in the pocket of my neighbour.”

My hand stopped midair on the way to flick the dome light off. 

“You killed your neighbour?” 

Dracula glanced at my hovering hand, grabbed my index finger and used it to shut the light. 

“He wasn’t a good neighbour,” he said, giving me my hand back. “Very annoying, although cultured. His husband was even worse, ugh. I hope the next ones are better than them.”

I inhaled, ready to argue, but then remembering I wasn’t a prosecutor, I decided I had nothing to do with their deaths.

“Did you at least hide the bodies?” I said in the most casual tone I could manage. 

“I didn’t. They weren’t my next door neighbours if that’s what you’re concerned about. They lived in the building behind mine.” With one hand on the wheel, he pushed a few buttons on the car’s console and Tears For Fears came on. “It will take a while before anyone finds them. When that happens, there won’t be much to go on.”

“One should hope,” I commented, and in the same breath, “Where did you take Lucy?” 

Dracula never stopped humming to Everybody Wants to Rule the World as he glanced at me.

“What do you mean where, darling?” 

Two could play this game. 

“Did you take her to the same places you took me?” It was a genuine question, although a little off of my objective. I waved the tickets. “Did you invite her to the opera as well?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

He would know if I lied but portions of the truth would do the trick. 

“Would you believe me if I said it was jealousy?” I sighed. “We made a promise to each other to share eternal life. Lucy is not in the picture anymore, as you said, but I wonder if you had to lure her in like you did with me. Were you good to her?” I almost added ‘as you were to me’ but that wasn’t quite accurate. He had his moments. 

“I was. Perhaps better than I was to you.” He looked at me and I blinked. Was he also a mind reader? “I didn’t hurt her as I hurt you. Lucy was entirely different. She was always willing and eager for death. Interesting but shallow. There wasn’t much beneath the surface that I could hurt.” He chuckled. “I didn’t take her to any of our places. There was no seduction, so to speak.”

“Where did you take her?”

“Cemeteries.”

“Cemeteries,” I repeated, as if I hadn’t heard correctly.

“Yes.” He smiled. 

“Why?”

“I quite like them. It’s a rare opportunity to be amongst people my own age.” 

I laughed.

“And did she mind?”

“No, no. Lucy liked them. The only thing she liked more than herself was death. It only made sense that she enjoyed them.”

“Why did you never take me?”

The car rolled to a stop at a redlight. Dracula turned to look at me, eyes narrowed and ever observant. 

“Cemeteries didn’t exactly come to mind when I planned our dates. I wanted to seduce you, not scare you.”

“You did both most of the time,” I conceded, smiling. “Take me to one.” I gestured at the road.

“Now?”

“Why not?” I shrugged.

He knitted his thick eyebrows and tilted his head. His lips curled but he didn’t let a smile take over.

“I was going to take you to dinner. I haven’t taken you out for a proper meal yet.”

“It’s too early for dinner. We can go afterwards.” Still, no reaction. “Please, I want to understand why you like them.”

“And because you are jealous,” he completed. “You won’t find anything special in a cemetery, Y/N.”

“We’ll see,” I shot back, giving him a hard stare. “I don’t know the closest cemetery, though. Maybe Google-”

“Brompton is the closest one.”

The twenty minutes it took to get there were spent talking about my day. I skipped the part where I found Lucy was dead and my suspicion about Diana. I didn’t quite realise I had kept the latter from him, not until later.

Headstones announced that we were close. An odd appearance since I hadn’t seen the borders of the cemetery yet. I sat up straight, leaning forward so my eyes could adjust to the domed building coming into view. It was difficult to see the plaques at night, especially because there were none of the inviting lights to draw out tourists to such a place at this time.

“That’s the chapel,” Dracula said, nodding at the domed building. Turning the steering wheel, the car swerved and slowed in a path I hadn’t seen, bringing into view an archway that had been previously eclipsed by trees and shrubbery. “The arcade goes all the way to the other side. We can go in through them.”

A carpet of green grass set the stage for the domed building. It was a little smaller than I had first expected. From this angle, I could see that the arcade made a straight line until it became abruptly convex. When Dracula saw me inspecting it, he informed me both arcardes were built like that, thus making the cemetery symmetric.

“The dead outgrew the cemetery?” I guessed, pointing at the headstones outside the veritable palace for the dead.  

Dracula simply hummed.

The car stopped. A second later the headlights died and I was left staring into blackness.

I heard more than saw Dracula leaving the car.

I pushed my purse and briefcase to my feet in order to get out. I reached for Dracula’s hand instead of the car door. As expected, he had the door open before I could do so. He helped me out and waited for me to blink. It took a minute but at last I could define the shape of his nose and the pink of his lips. I could even discern his mouth lines. 

“Are you holding onto that?” He asked, a finger tapping the red envelope, distracting me from the details on his face.

I regarded the object that had warranted two deaths earlier that night. I didn’t notice I still held it.

Opening my coat, I pushed my shirt’s cleavage to the side, giving him a brief glance of my bra, and stuffed the envelope close to my breast. “There. Let’s go?”

Dracula’s gaze lingered on the envelope’s place of hiding a little too long.

“Y/N.” He spoke my name in a hiss. I so loved how he said it.

“Yes?”

“I thought a cemetery would be too grim a place for you to make advances but I see I was wrong.”

I smirked.

“For safekeeping.” I stretched up and kissed him full on the mouth. My bottom lip was held captive by his teeth for a moment before he let me go. “I don’t make advances,” I completed.

“You just tease me endlessly.” He rolled his eyes, a little too dramatically, and offered me his arm. 

“It’s so very fun,” I said, twining my arm around his. “Let’s?” I pointed with a move of my head, and with that we started towards the closest arch.

Above our heads, the world flashed white for a second, the shape of a lightning bolt crisp against the purple night sky. Two heartbeats later, a thunder blared loud enough to shake my ribcage. I shrunk instinctively. 

“We shouldn’t stay for long,” I murmured, staring up at the sky as if waiting for another strike. 

“Storms scare you?” Dracula asked, a smile very clear in his tone.

“Not particularly but we are around a bunch of trees. It’s dangerous.”

“Not while you’re with me.”

I was about to mock his words when he made a gesture with his hand, as if waving something away. His eyes were fixed on the sky as we kept walking. 

A sudden wind sent my hair up. Trees bent sideways with the force of it. Leaves kicked up in the air and, slowly, the heavy clouds dispersed into a sheet made of cotton. 

“You didn’t…”

“I did.” He turned to me, smiling wide but it waned when he took a better look at me. “Don’t tell me you liked it better before. If I bring the storm back it’ll be much worse than it was supposed to be. Can’t quite control a storm once it starts.” 

“No, no.” I blinked, pushing a few strands of hair away from my face. “I just didn’t know you could do that.”

“It’s not a power I use very often here. London’s weather suits me as it is.”

Dracula led me off the paved path into soft grass. My high heeled boots sunk in the earth on my second step. Leaning my weight on Dracula, I tiptoed my way to the arch. His arm circled my waist, pulling me up so that my feet barely touched the ground, and when we reached the archway, he climbed the tall step, hauling me along with him. 

“What else can you do?” I asked once he let me go.

I smoothed my clothes and he did the same. His blazer opened partially and I saw that it was lined in petrol blue. It appeared bright even in the dark.

“Well… If I need to, I can shift form.”

“As in turn into a bat?” I pressed my lips together.

“No, animals are different. I don’t become them. Small animals like bats are tricky. I need many of them instead of one. I prefer bigger animals, such as wolves and the odd lynx. It takes a lot of work, though. I can walk in daylight when possessing an animal. It can be done to humans, too.” He glanced at me. “Maybe I should use another word. I don’t quite possess them. I wear their skin. They have to be dead for me to do it, so it’s only temporary before the skin starts decaying.”

“What a lovely image,” I commented, swearing to myself I would never do that. “And shifting form? How do you mean?”

“I can become mist.”

“Ah yes! The dramatic vampire entrances, I love those.”

He chuckled. 

“I’ll teach you.” Then, sliding his hand on mine he tugged forward. “Come. Let’s explore. Just how deep would you like to go?” 

I threw him a look but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Dirty jokes?” 

“Actually, no. It’s you who always seems to find an ulterior meaning to my words. I meant how deep in the tour.” His voice was solemn. I looked at him again, skeptical, and he raised his eyebrows. “Swear. There are catacombs here and mausoleums to explore. They are easy enough to break into but if you like we can keep to the main attraction.”

“Let’s do that,” I murmured, unsure if he had been kidding or my mind lived in the gutter. “I’m not wearing my Tomb Raider clothes tonight. It’s a videogame and later, films. Bad, bad films,” I added for his benefit. 

“Is that the one where the lady with the pretty lips wears tight fitting silver clothing?”

“Count Dracula, have you been watching trash telly in your spare time?” I pitched my voice in mock admonishment. 

“I had nothing to do for twelve days.” He shrugged. “Do you have that outfit?” He asked, casting me a curious look. I snickered and shook my head. “Hm.” Then, I really laughed. Dracula had a crush on Angelina Jolie and was picturing me dressed up as Lara Croft. Wasn’t that a treat?

We kept to our path beneath the arches’ columns for most of the tour. Dracula said it was a veritable open air museum but it didn’t compare to Père Lachaise or even High Gate Cemetery here in London. I had never been to any of them so I trusted his word. In spite of his comparison, Brompton Cemetery held its fair share of art to make it truly fascinating.

Old headstones came in variety. Yellow and cracked, grey and weathered, black and bent, and green from years of collecting moss. Some of them were sinking into the earth where they stood, as if they, too, were being buried and consumed by the ground such as the bodies that laid there. 

Angel statues were more popular than I thought. Maybe horror movies weren’t so cliche to have an angel statue in every cemetery scene. I counted eleven angels in one small parcel of the graveyard, then I gave up counting.

However, solid stone crucifixes were no surprise. There were so many of them that they were impossible to count. Dracula looked away whenever we got too close to one and I found myself tugging him off its path.

“All the funerals I’ve been to were up north, in Newcastle.” I told him to distract him from the crosses. The fine lines around his eyes were scrunched together as if he was gazing at a strong light. Nevermind that Dracula already knew all there was to know. Hearing me speak nonsense was better than contemplating that which he feared.  “That’s where my family is from. I’m the only one who was born in London. I know Newcastle’s graveyards quite well but they’re small. However, I’ll admit I’ve been missing out. It’s peaceful here and quite beautiful in an eerie sort of way.” 

His gaze was on the ground as I led him away from the crosses and onto a less pious path. There were tall, blocky buildings far ahead facing each other. A lane of mausoleums and not a cross in sight. Perfect.

“Why do you come to cemeteries if you can’t stand it?” I asked lightly.

“I only came here a few times with Lucy and we mostly kept to the arcades,” he explained, blinking and relaxing as he noticed where I was taking him. “Highgate cemetery is a little less devout. There is a whole avenue designed after Egyptian tombs.”

“Really?” I asked, genuinely surprised. 

“You don’t know your home city very well,” he accused.

“I know where the cemeteries are well enough to give directions but I don’t make a point to visit them,” I countered, slightly affronted. “I have no reason to. Here. Better?” I squeezed his hand. 

“Much,” he murmured, tilting his head towards the only headstone amongst the family vaults and mausoleums.

I stopped before it to read its epitaph. The surname was nearly impossible to read but the first name caught my attention. Lucille or perhaps Lucienne. She died in 1858 or 1856. Weather had made it difficult to read.  

Dracula came to stand at my side, a peculiar expression on his face. 

“Her husband must have loved her a great deal,” I commented, pointing at the words beneath her name, ringing the acid memory of a name too similar.

Dracula slanted a look at me and without leaning, like I had to do to read it, he intoned,

“’T is I, my love, sits on your grave,

And will not let you sleep;

For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,

And that is all I seek.”

He paused as if absorbing the words and then chuckled. “He killed her. That’s”  he pointed  “regret or a very good liar.”

“How would you know?”

Taking a step forward, smiling, he pet the headstone. It resembled a caress more than anything. 

“Trust me, I know.”

Odd but I wouldn’t question it now. I had my chance.

“Because you killed Lucy?” I asked in a slight voice, tilting my head.

His hand dropped. The smile on his face faltered for a moment, a quick moment, before growing big. 

“How long have you been holding onto that question?”

 I smiled back. 

“Practically all day.” I exhaled, almost relieved. “Why did you do it?”

“Are you mad that I killed her?”

“Mad? No. Concerned? Yes. Is that how you usually dispose of your exes?” 

His upper lip curled slightly but then he steeled his expression. I was about to make another acid comment when memory touched and made a stab of guilt. 

Months ago, after our little movie night, Dracula had hinted at killing his wife when I asked him of her. It was not only crass that I had made that question but it must have felt as if I was accusing him.

I opened my mouth to fix it and he raised a hand to cut me off.

“I made a promise to Lucy and broke it in favour of my promises to you. She asked me to take her life when I wouldn’t make her a vampire. That is all,” he finished in a dispassionate voice.

It was cruel of me to keep going. 

“And Justina?”

The blazer he wore suddenly looked tight on him as his muscles bunched with tension. He rounded Lucille’s grave to stand aside from me and gaze upon the green earth. Summoning a deep breath, I stepped across from him, relaxing against the headstone. It was my way of giving him space and letting him know I wasn’t letting this go. His eyes tracked my movements, gaze settling on my shoes instead of the ground.

“Is it important that you know?” He asked. 

“If you killed her as you did Lucy, yes.” I crossed my arms over my chest, and continued, “If not, it’s not my business. You can break your promises to me as easily as you broke them to Lucy. I know you don’t care about me as I care about you,” I made my voice as gentle as I could, so I wouldn’t come across as an accuser. “I’m asking you to try loving me and the last person you loved, you also killed.” I dug my nails on my arms to keep me from smiling. Intuition told me I was picking at an unhealed wound but, much like waiting for a jury’s verdict, I knew I was right. 

Dracula stood as still as a statue, his face carefully blank as he stared at me. 

Tell me I’m right , I silently begged. 

“It was an accident.” His voice was so low that I was sure wind had carried it to my ears, otherwise I wouldn’t have heard him. “She was the first person I killed after I became undead,” he finished, putting his hands on his pockets in a resolute manner. “You have nothing to worry about, Y/N. Lucy begged for death. I kill that which I love.” He gave me a bitter grin, eyes sparkling with mockery. “Is that what you suspect? I avoid love because I killed it? It can’t be brought back if it’s dead.”

It would be hell to go up against him in court. I was either too transparent or he knew me too well.

“Maybe it’s undead, like you, ” I said, making myself laugh at how ridiculous it sounded even to my ears.

He smiled but did not join in my amusement. “Do you know the rest of the epitaph?”

“Know it?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow at the sudden change of subject. 

“Yes, it’s a song.”

Turning my back to Count Dracula, I squinted at the epitaph. I stepped forward and traced the chiseled writing with my fingers, using touch to guide me through the words he had recited a moment ago. I searched my memory for a melody to go along with it but none came. 

“How would you know- this is from the 19th century.” I frowned, touching the year Lucille died. “You weren’t even here yet to know it, or even if it is a song.”

I felt him at my back before he touched me. In the windy chill of the coming storm, Dracula emanated heat from his earlier feast. I tried not to think about that when his arm circled me, fitting me to the expanse of his chest, our hips almost aligned if it wasn’t for the drastic difference in height. I relaxed into his embrace, letting go enough to close my eyes. His touch was unexpected but not unwelcome. 

My coat opened. I shuddered as a draft disturbed the warmth made by the thick layer. Then, my breath caught as Dracula’s hand found my ribs, just under my breast, and tightened. The strength of his grip made me shift on the balls of my feet. I stopped when I found the more I moved the further his hand moved away. 

His chest raised, almost lifting me up in his grip, and I felt his nose in my hair. Nuzzling, scenting, bringing me closer still. My knees wobbled. Losing my equilibrium, my foot went forward to keep myself up, and Dracula followed, pressing me to the headstone to keep me utterly trapped.

I had one second to think that what we were doing was improper and absolutely disrespectful but my scarf slipping from my neck kept me quiet. The cold made my hair prick up at once. The bite, fresh and raw, hummed to life.

“She sings,” he whispered near my ear. I leaned towards his voice to feel it on my skin. 

“Who does?” I whispered back, wishing he would speak again and move my hair out of the way to place careful kisses on my jaw. 

“Lucille,” he said. I bent my neck, throwing it slightly back as an invitation. A nail grazed my collarbone briefly. My throat was secured in his grasp a second later and a moan fled from it. His fingers brushed the bite he had given me. Instead of wincing, I found myself pressing against him to feel more. “She sings it. Listen,” he beckoned. 

I heard nothing and thought of nothing.

How could he possibly ask me to listen when his touch, mixed with pleasure and pain, put me out of my mind?

The sharpness of his teeth expelled all breath from my lungs. While his mouth was warm on the nape of my neck, his teeth were ice needles, chafing and making me tremble. 

“Can’t hear it?” The question was whispered in my ear. I shook my head, sloppily. “Hmm. Maybe if I…” 

The hand on my neck shifted to take hold of my jaw and tilt it to its liking. Dracula kissed where he had bit, lips burning on the cold wound, then bit, delicately this time so I could feel every centimetre of his fangs sinking into me. 

Opening the fresh wound barely hurt. My neck seemed to welcome him.

Pain lingered on the back of my mind as I melted onto him, willed by his touch. Breathing was difficult with a deadly pressure on my neck. I stood on my tiptoes, as if that could bring me closer to a breath of the quiet night, and when I did, Dracula’s grip relaxed for but a second. Air filled my chest. I felt his fangs drawing back, leaving an emptiness where they had been. Then, his tongue. He wasn’t taking as he had just a few nights ago. It was merely a kiss, measured and tailored to consume, but a kiss, nonetheless. 

Stormy wind rushed to my ears and it sang - slow, upping the lilt and lowering as a sad love song would.  

It seemed impossible, yet I heard the exact moment where the wind changed its inflection, narrowing into a voice. A woman’s voice, sharp as glass, sad and yearning singing the verses Dracula had recited.

“ You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips, 

But my breath smells earthy strong;

 If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips, 

Your time will not be long .

Your time will not be long.

Your time will not be long. ”

The voice repeated those verses like a broken record. Once, twice, thrice. And went back to the words Dracula had recited, speeding through them as the aggressive wind seemed to cut through my clothes, until the record was reinitiated to go again and again and again.

Dracula’s mouth released me, and the chilling song left, too. I opened my eyes, hardening my knees as if to make sure I could stand on my own. Although the darkness of the night partially clouded my sight, I could see just fine and my head wasn’t swimming. He must not have taken much. 

In fact, my head was clear enough to know that he had done it as an attempt to manipulate the subject. It wasn’t the first time, especially in recent days - pressuring him for answers recently warranted getting his fingers pushed into me and now, this. Next time, and I knew there would be one, I wouldn’t let him play me.

“She resents him,” I finally muttered. Blinking, I clasped onto his arm around my chest. “How did you do that?”

“The kiss of the vampire-” he spoke, lips wet on my ear “-is a powerful aphrodisiac. Amongst other things.” He chuckled. “I hadn’t shown you the latter until now. Did Lucille tell you about her husband?”

“No.” I frowned. “I heard her sing, nothing else.” Using the headstone as a leverage, I turned, trusting my knees and Lucille’s decrepit home to keep me upright. Dracula’s embrace followed, never leaving my body, and I snuggled closer. “Do you hear ghosts?” I looked up at him at the question, and found his lips painted lightly in red. The corner of his mouth was a bit smudged. I used my thumb to clean it. Dracula captured my thumb in his mouth as I withdrew. Not a drop to be wasted, I guessed. My gaze stopped at his unscarred neck. A moment longer and I would have asked to leave. The car was close enough.

“Not ghosts, no,” Dracula’s voice, objective, dispelled any thoughts of drinking his blood “although there are a few ones here and there. There always are in old cities but, in cemeteries, there are ghosts and there are the undead.” He rose his eyebrows. “Lucille is undead. I suspect vengeance brought her body back to life after her husband killed her, but she wasn’t strong enough to dig her way out of her grave. Maybe, it took a little too long for her to rise, or maybe she still loved him, even after being murdered.”

I preferred the first option. The possibility that even after being murdered by her husband she continued to love him was too tragic and depressive to think about. 

“What brought you back?” I asked, and shut my mouth, having surprised myself by my own question. Dracula’s black eyes met mine, a little wide until an amused glint took them. “Tell me. Please?”

His lips twisted in a smile.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I don’t know how it happened. Or what brought me back, divine force or one of the devilish persuasion, Justina’s tears upon hearing of my death or the vengeful spirits of the people I slaughtered. I don’t know, Y/N. I died on the battlefield, felt a Turk’s blade cutting me” his hand slammed his chest, blinking “going through me and my armor. I remember thinking that must have been a fine sword before falling. The sword came down on my neck, and that was it.”

“That was it?” I repeated, bewildered. He didn’t seem to hear me, looking past my head, gaze lost. I laid my hand on his. “But how? How? How did you wake? What brought you back?” Every question was marked by my hands running up his chest. I stopped myself from shaking him. 

My courtroom face took control a second later. I wished that my preoccupation was simply how he had died. It would have been a little more noble of me if that was it. However, I found myself panicking about my soon to be death. 

Dracula narrowed his eyes, shaking his head, telling me silently that no longer worked on him.

“I awoke three days later underneath a waxing moon, lying beneath a pile of bodies from which I had to crawl out, and walked for hours looking for water. Of course, water didn’t sate my thirst. I didn’t remember the sword cutting me at first. I knew something was different but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I attributed my strangeness to battlefield shock. Disoriented, that’s all it was.” 

Dracula stepped back as if to punctuate the end of the story but my arms went around his chest as a small request for him to not let me go. He didn’t. Lucille’s grave didn’t linger on my spine anymore. There was a small relief in that. 

Lying my head on his silent chest, I made myself take deep, controlled breaths. 

My death was still far from happening. I had two months to get completely used to the idea. 

“That is not what is happening to you, Y/N,” he said, smoothing my hair and combing it with his fingers. 

“What if I don’t come back?”

“You will.” His voice, sounding from his chest, was gravely instead of its usual velvet smoothness. “You won’t have to come back by yourself. I’ll drink you, slowly. I’ll take my time so you will die in my arms and wake up in them. And I’ll do it so you remember every detail.”

“I’m not sure I want to remember every detail.”

“Oh, it doesn’t hurt, darling. You will be fine, nothing to be scared of.” His fingers left my hair to graze my cheek. I felt my face warming, although I did not know why. I was never one for a lot of blushing and the fact that a reassuring conversation in the middle of a graveyard seemed to warrant it struck me as odd. Perhaps it was the intimate nature of the topic, my unveiled fear, and my blushing cheeks, the product of happiness for Dracula trying to console me. “Here, your scarf before you forget.” He offered the emerald green scarf wrapped around his forearm. As I untwined it, he said, “you are assembling quite a collection. This one is new.”

I smiled up at him as I threw the scarf around my shoulders instead of tying it around my neck again. He stared at my bare neck and at the weight of it, blood trickled from the wound. The breeze made it cold against my skin. It tickled.

“I think you left some behind,” I told him. Pulling my hair away with one hand, I showed him the bite. I could very well take the scarf and clean the remainder of blood with it, however, the feeling of his tongue laving me of blood was incredibly erotic to deny myself of it. 

Obliging to my whim, Dracula bent his head and licked, tongue massaging the spot where he had pierced. I leaned into it and made a small sound of complaint when he pulled away instead of stimulating more of my scar. 

“Does it not hurt anymore?” He asked, eyeing my scar with a hunger that told of more than simply bloodlust.

“A little,” I admitted. “But it’s a good hurt.” His smile hinted at a bit of fang. There was most definitely a spark of pleasure behind those eyes. The sadist. “What about yours?”

“Mine?” He furrowed his eyebrows as his fingertips came to rest on the curve of my neck.

“Did I bite hard enough yesterday to hurt you?” 

God help me, did I really want to push him right now? In a cemetery?

“Were you trying to?” The question was charged with humour. 

“No but it would make me a bit happy to know that I gave you a taste of your own medicine.” 

“Perhaps the closest thing to it,” he nodded pensively. “Six hundred years and you would think I received as well as I can give.” A chuckle escaped me at the implications of that. He smiled at my amusement. “You are a vampire in your own right.” A devious look crossed him. “Vampire of my heart.”

I blinked, mouth parting and before I could stop I found myself whispering words to the final stanzas of a Baudelaire poem. I spoke it too fast, as someone would do to a memorised song, and it appeased the somber nature of the words.

“ She's in my voice, the termagant. All my blood is her black poison! I am the sinister mirror in which the vixen looks. I am the wound and the dagger, I am the blow and the cheek! I am the members and the wheel, victim and executioner! I'm the vampire of my own heart .”

“Condemned to a hysterical laugh and ferocious smile,” Dracula finished. 

“Close but that’s not how it ends,” I commented, peering curiously at him. Had I read that version? It sounded off to be ingrained in my blood. How else would he know which poem I recited to complete it so promptly? “Have you been reading Baudelaire?”

“I skimmed through a few pages in a bookstore,” he said. “That one caught my attention. I must pick up my French sometime. Too many things are lost in translation, I’m sure.” 

“Yes, probably,” I agreed, accepting his quick dismissal of the subject, although I knew there was something he wasn’t telling me.

A sudden cold flick hit the top of my head. I looked up at the sky as I reached to wipe the first drop of rain from my hair and as I did a second drop fell next to my eye, making me blink. 

“The storm is back,” I tried saying but my words were swallowed by lightning and thunder. 

Dracula pulled me in an embrace at once, guiding me down the path of mausoleums. Eyes fixed in the colonnade adjacent to us, I would have kept going towards them in search of some cover if he hadn’t stopped abruptly. He let me go and I turned to look, lowering my head against the pelting rain. I didn’t have time to protest as the sound of metal groaning reached my ears. The rusted copper door to a mausoleum was halfway open, framed by angel statues on each side of it, while my vampire stood before it with one hand on the embellished mantel. 

“Only until the rain stops,” he said, making his voice sound pleasant. 

“But you can make the storm-” I interrupted myself when he simply turned his back on me and entered the mausoleum. If I stood outside for a moment longer my hair would soon be plastered to my head. “-stop.” Surrendering, I followed him in. 

Dracula took my hand as soon as I entered pulling me deeper into what looked to be a family vault. There were names and dates inscribed on the walls on each side of us. Although it smelled a little damp and coppery, there wasn’t a piece of dirt or spiderwebs in sight and the small stained glass panels were of a clear yellow and blue let me know the place was cleaned regularly. It was designed so that the inside appeared similar to a sanctuary, with a raised step beneath the rose window and an alcove for candles. There were no religious icons of any kind in sight.

“Careful before you, oh.” He gave me a slight nudge so I wouldn’t trip on a piece of loose stone but I had stepped over it already. 

“I can see fine right now,” I informed, smiling lightly. “We didn’t have to break in, again.”

“I didn’t break in. The door was open, I merely pushed it.”

“You could’ve done that thing you do,” I grumbled. He looked askance at me. “Like in Gloucester cathedral.”

“Run?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not faster than pelting rain, Y/N.” I opened my mouth. “Do you want to leave?” He gestured at the structure around us and then at the open door behind us. Outside, the heavy rain created a sheet so thick that it was difficult to see the other mausoleum across the path. 

I stared at the rain, listened to the deep, hollow sound it made inside the mausoleum, smelled the damp earthy scent; to be in a quiet place far removed from my world was utter peace. 

If we left now, Dracula would take me to dinner and there would be no quietness. I would soon be back in the real world where a near death doctor was stalking me, my boss was obsessed with my boyfriend and I wasn’t on the best of terms with my friends, or anyone for that matter. An escape in a cemetery with the man I loved, and would soon kill me, was ideal at that moment. 

How nice. 

“No, I don’t,” I told Dracula. “Any undead in here I should know of?”

“Only me.” He gave me a wicked grin and opened his arms to touch each side of the mausoleum. I narrowed my eyes. His grin became wider. 

I knew that look.

Flicking my eyes from him to the door behind him, I smiled nervously. I would have to get past him to reach it. I’d been in this position before but in quite a different context. 

“What are you doing?”

“Trapping you.” He stepped closer.

“Count Dr-”

“Ooh, is it Count now?” He taunted. 

I took a breath as I did my best to smother the thrill that surged up. 

“You can’t mean to-” I interrupted myself as Dracula tilted his head in a way that his pupils shone with reflected light. It resembled the eyes of a wolf hunting late at night. I stepped back, even though I didn’t want to, I also knew that he would step closer once again to keep our little game on. “It wouldn’t be right.”

A step forward from him. Other backward from me. 

I was fighting a smile now. Wrong, wrong, this is wrong.

“Y/N,” he sighed, almost sounding chastising. 

“Hm?” I managed as my feet found the raised step below the stained glass window. Standing on it put my height closer to his. I barely raised my gaze to look at him as he came closer.

“It is my full intention” he began, breath on my face and shining eyes burning in mine “to have you up against this wall struggling for breath and crying my name. You have 5 seconds to decide whether that’s what you want, otherwise the offer is off the table.” 

Rationality - and well, morality if my law degree hadn’t completely revoked it - said I shouldn’t. Not in here, not now, not ever. Wrong, yes, I had that very well established, however, none of that came into play as a tempting shiver made my nipples prick up behind my bra. 

Were my 5 seconds up? I hadn’t been counting.

My pulse climbed to a staggering velocity. Reeling from the rush, I simply took Dracula’s face in my hands and crushed my mouth to his. 

Sharp teeth scored my tongue. A light taste of blood blossomed from it. Dracula reacted to it instantly by pressing me to the wall and sucking my tongue inside his mouth. In his careless need, my lips suffered another cut, and although I made a sound of complaint from the vague pain, all he did was deepen the kiss, forcing more of my blood to seep out.

A strong leg came in between my thighs to rub. My hands fought to pull his shirt from where it was secured behind his belt. Nails scraped his back in my rush and Dracula made a hissing sound, before chuckling in the kiss. His response was undoing the side zipper of my trousers and groping my ass hard enough to make me arch my body away from his grip. Of course, all that did was put my hips closer to his. When his punishing grip was gone, and my knees were rightfully trembling, I wiggled out of my pants, hanging on to his neck with hands and lips. 

I reached for his belt and he pushed my hands away. Again, I tried, and this time I earned a hard smack to my ass. I jumped, squirming at the stinging pain that was quickly soothed by his caressing hand. I wasn’t giving up so easily, though, no matter how many smacks he awarded me with. 

Pressing my tongue to his fangs, the metallic taste of my blood tainted our kiss again, and he moaned deep in his throat. Taken by it as he was, I enjoyed the opportunity to work his belt buckle and zipper off. There was a moment of pause in him as I finally grasped his cock, tightening my hand around its hard length and feeling it twitch in response. 

One of those harsh groans spilled from his mouth onto mine. I couldn’t contain my smile; I was eager to hear more of it as I had the past night. My knees started to bend but as I looked past Dracula’s shoulder, the etched names of the dead around us were a jarring reminder of the absurdity of what I was doing. 

Cheeks burning, I hid my face in his chest as I tried to push past the undue shame that I never stopped moving my hands. His lips were on my ear, teasing with light kisses, breathing a sigh meant just for me. 

My blunt teeth found Dracula’s collarbone through his shirt, and again came that heavenly groan to distract me completely from my surroundings. Somehow he became even harder. 

He pushed my shirt down, ridding me of my scarf in the process, to expose the curves of my breasts and a snippet of the opera tickets hidden inside my bra. There was a small huff from him as he plucked the envelope out of there and threw it aside. Bending his head to place grazing kisses on my breasts, he stepped back and I sent my hands searching for him again.

I wouldn’t open my eyes. It didn’t matter that I had thrown reason out the window, I simply didn’t want to gaze into the mausoleum. 

He bit lightly near a nipple, not hard enough to cut, just sucking the skin into his mouth to make me gasp and squirm at the promise of more. 

It was the usual sort of love bite. I liked the unusual sort a little better.

I lost all grip on him as his head dipped lower, catching each of my nipples in his mouth and playing with them until they ached. I had to smother a chill as the hardened wet buds were met with a sudden wind coming through the open mausoleum door. 

Dracula knelt before me as he tugged my shoes off. The cold stone beneath my feet sent a shiver up my legs. My trousers were next. All I had left from the waist down was my underwear. My legs were covered in goosebumps. 

Blindly, I grabbed Dracula by his blazer’s collar to invite him up again. Instead, he caught my wrist in between his teeth, playfully biting it and tempting a moan out of me. 

“Y/N, look at me.” His breath was hot near my core. I pressed my thighs together to soothe the intense throb rising up. Again, I tried to pull him by his blazer, and again he resisted. Faint kisses were laid on the top of my thighs as each of his hands ran up the length of my legs. A kiss landed closer to my inner thigh, his nose briefly rubbing the wetness hidden behind the flimsy fabric. I heard his inhale, scenting my arousal as one would do to wine. “Look at me.” I shook my head vehemently. Now, opening his mouth to suckle the skin of my inner thigh, his nose persisted on rubbing the throbbing ache he was responsible for. My knuckles hurt from how tight I grabbed his collar. I knew that if I moved my hand anywhere else I was done for because as long as I didn’t touch him now, I could convince myself this was all in my head and that we were somewhere else. Some place where I didn’t feel such immense guilt for enjoying myself. “Do you want me to stop?” Fingers dug behind my knees, almost making them buckle. “Answer me.” The two words were punctuated by a hard bite on the top of my thigh.

“No…” I whimpered. 

The hand behind my left leg forced it up and a squeak escaped my mouth as I tried to grab onto the smooth surface of the wall at my back, but I quickly regained stability as Dracula drew my leg further up and my knee found a comfortable place to support itself atop one of his shoulders. His hand followed the curves from my calf up to my ass, where he continued to caress - although his touch was growing rougher by the second.

“Then look at me.”

Biting my lip to keep silent, I opened my eyes and sent my gaze down to meet his. Black eyes lured me in, caging me more than his grip on my legs ever could. It was with that look, that any concern of decency left my mind for good. A crude thought came and went -  the dead be damned . However, was that voiced by my mind or whispered into it by the very man kneeling at my feet? 

I watched as he slowly hooked a finger on my underwear. I tried moving my hips to the side, hinting for him to do the same to the fabric, but I had to grab onto Dracula’s shoulders to avoid losing balance. 

“I’ll fall,” I whispered.

“I won’t let you.” There was confidence in his tone, ah but his eyes, they were all hunger and bloodlust. 

Much to my delight, and his as well, he finally pushed the underwear to the side. A chill played on my skin as his tongue traced a line between my folds. The corners of my lips tugged up through a delighted sigh when I discovered that Dracula could be gentle, when he wanted to, and that he proved once again that he knew very well what he was doing. 

My mouth trembled as I strained to silence my moans in my throat. 

I mustn't be heard. I’ll be a quiet little mouse.

Thunder exploded outside, making the world quaver and giving me a small fright which was easy to ignore as Dracula pushed my leg higher to spread me for him. I sent my fingers to his hair to encourage him and he responded avidly. He closed his mouth over me, tongue dipping and lapping as his face nuzzled. 

Trusting his ability to catch me if my leg keeping me up failed, I pressed my hips onto his face instead of having them glued to the wall. Dracula made an appreciative sound, engorging himself with the feast presented to him. His tongue circled and played upon every little bit of pleasure. I clamped my hand over my mouth and let my head fall back against the wall. He was determined in his task, stubbornly so to make me cry out as he had promised, I could tell. 

“Let go,” he said quickly before fastening his mouth onto me again. 

I wouldn’t let up. Couldn’t. It would be too much to repent about later. 

Wind whistled through the cemetery, followed by another earth shattering thunder. Maybe if the storm continued and I was quiet enough, no one would hear me. Not even myself. Dracula never stopped tormenting me as I mentally fought with what was proper. Although, I was already too far gone to decide what was proper or not, and the dead were long dead to care. 

He posed a most difficult challenge as he sucked my clit into his mouth, lightly at first and then not at all until it took all my will to not shout. He repeated it over and over again. I clenched on nothing and a moan of frustration fled from behind my fingers. I locked my leg around his shoulder, seeking for more of his tongue, more of anything he was willing to give me. I couldn’t hold the outpour of whimpers. My legs began quivering as the feeling became too much and yet not near enough. 

I was close to shouting and begging for more. 

Then, his mouth was gone. 

Opening my eyes in indignation, I found his face before mine as he hooked an arm under the same leg he had over his shoulder. Holding onto his shoulders, I stood on the tiptoes of my foot to offer myself to him. My eyes rolled back as he filled me to the brim and I sighed gratefully. Dracula held still, his mouth parted as he gazed down at me, reveling in pleasure just as I was. I arched my back, bringing my chest close to his so that my bruised nipples rubbed on the soft cotton of his dress shirt. I ground my hips on his, shaking at the warmth pooling below my waist. It wouldn’t take much now to send me over the edge. Dracula had made sure to use his tongue well enough to torment me. 

“Y/N,” he mumbled my name on lips. “Remember my offer.”

Lightning flashed, illuminating inside the mausoleum for a brief second. Thunderous sound followed, then exploded. Somewhere I heard the groan of a tree falling. 

“No,” I replied, as low as my restraint allowed me. “I won’t.”

“If you want to be like that-” My other leg was swept from under me and I clawed at his shoulders for support as he hoisted my body up. I met his gaze, eyes widening as I saw the mocking appraisal behind those black eyes, perhaps thinking me brave, but foolish for trying to resist. 

Dracula pulled halfway back and thrust up. Slow, deep and hard. Each stroke was a profusion of sensation - my back hitting the wall as he rocked against me, my legs spread even wider stretching and tightening my core at the same time, his hips grinding on mine at the end of every thrust to rub my clit, my nipples brushing his shirt in a gentle caress, his mouth on mine drawing my every breath and moan out. Steadily he drove himself inside me, hitting that precious spot harder and now a little faster. 

It was all too much. I couldn’t stay quiet. I felt myself flushing as if set alight and finally - finally - moaned aloud as I gave in to the wave of pleasure crashing on my body. 

But it was suddenly cut short as Dracula slipped out as he jostled me in his arms, pulling my knees so far up that they almost touched my shoulders. I held onto the nape of his neck for dear life as he pressed me to the wall, his chest colliding with mine and making it difficult to breathe. I felt his length graze my inner thigh and whimpered as once again I clenched around nothing. 

I blinked up at him. He only spared me a derisive look along with a mean curl of his lips. Alarm made my stare a little harder.

“Don’t you dare stop,” I said, hoarsely. 

“Stop?” Dracula chuckled, letting his forehead rest on mine, our noses touching. “What gave you the impression I was going to stop?” He captured my lips in a hard kiss before I could process what that meant. Never breaking the kiss, he drew back just enough for breath to rush into my lungs before it was expelled as he forced himself on me again. Harsh, punishing thrusts made my body quiver in response. Dracula moaned into the kiss and I answered, once, twice, until I lost count. His mouth neared my neck and even the slightest touch in anticipation had me clenching around him again. 

“Yes…” I panted. 

However, Dracula cut his path short, chuckling above my bite to make me flush again, but this time with rage. The puncture marks were left pulsing as if my blood had its own mind to be consumed. 

I opened my mouth to complain but he upped his rhythm and I cried out as Dracula sent me unexpectedly to the verge of climax. My hands were knots behind his neck as I looked at him pleadingly to give me this. Those black eyes sparkled, a light entirely their own in his taunting game, and he shook his head to the sides even as he grunted.

I bent my head and bit the curve of his neck. Bit hard. Hard enough to feel muscle tensing between my teeth and to make Dracula growl as his hips snapped a little more roughly.  I sang for victory in the back of my mind, relishing the urgency in his persistence when I locked my jaw on his neck. My mind went blank. I shut my eyes tight in anticipation, my heart racing so that I felt as if my whole body pulsed along with it.  

Dracula thrust up deeply once, and slowed to a stop. 

“Bastard,” I murmured, finally releasing his neck. 

It was a small mercy that he remained inside instead of retreating like before. 

“Nice try, though,” he said, voice thick and low. I smothered a smile, happy with the knowledge I was making this as difficult for him as it was for me. He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Please,” I begged as I arched towards him, attempting to move or create some form of friction to grant me relief. “If you’re trying to teach me a lesson-”

“And what lesson do you think that is?” He raised an eyebrow as he adjusted his grip on me so I stood a little higher up against the wall and my legs weren’t set quite as apart. I gasped, mouth curling up in delight as he felt thicker in this position. His hands found my buttocks to hold me up and squeezed them roughly. “What lesson, Y/N?” 

Instead of thrusting up, he made my body come down on him, only to raise me up again until only the tip remained inside. Slowly, he did it again. I watched as the crease between his brows deepened as he reveled in sheathing himself within me. I needed to feel more of him, so I unlocked my hands from his neck to send one of them inside his shirt, caressing his chest and another into his hair, feeling its softness between my fingers and scraping my nails on his scalp.

“To accept the conditions of your offers?” I tried, between pants.

“To never deny yourself of pleasure, no matter the circumstances.” His hips bucked to meet mine as he descended me on him once again. “You may find that the circumstance, one such as this, is bound to make anything even more pleasurable.”

It was a horrible thing to accept, and yet I had and knew it the moment I counted those five seconds. 

My cheeks burnt as I whimpered for more, begging louder and louder, only for him to slow to a near stop. Again and again and again, until I had tears in my eyes from despair and I clawed at him to no avail. My lower back hit the wall behind me with each snap of his hips as he covered me with kisses, from my cheeks to my lips, neck and shoulders, sweet and urgent along with the sweet ache in my loins, unfulfilled. His moans reverberated inside my head while the storm drowned my pleas, my shouts for more, my brainless calls for him. 

Dracula grabbed my face harshly to make me gaze into his eyes, squeezing my cheeks between his fingers as he did so. The eyes staring back at me were black mixed with the red of blood, almost glowing in the dark, and as I stared into those inhuman eyes, he nodded to me. 

I almost wept in relief. 

At the erratic thrusts, euphoria swelled, making me quake and tighten my legs around him as if I could stop him from leaving me. A moan long drawn out left my throat, and a kind of dizziness came over me as if I might pass out. Still, he continued, jerking his hips violently against mine as I yowled, pushing through my convulsing walls and using me for his own delight until he too howled as he started spilling.

My heart would burst at any second. I couldn’t seem to stop shaking. 

Dracula’s mouth was soft on mine, pressing to deepen our kiss, slowly, as he thrust lazily. His hand on my hair now, caressing the nape of my neck, soothing my trembling body. 

When he fell still and our lips rovered to each other's necks, I felt the skin of his back with the tips of my fingers, his muscles relaxing slowly to my touch, and he trailed a path down my breasts in response. 

It was utterly different from our brute touching from before. A different kind of need. With my hungers sated, these soft touches appeased me. And him, too. Sank into me as he was, he felt pliant - even if he was holding me captive in his arms. 

A man, still, but less of the monster I loved. 

I opened my eyes to gaze down past Dracula’s shoulder at the remains of the pouring rain outside. The mausoleum was no more than a frame for the dripping leaves of trees, thudding gently on old stone. The wind was gone, as was the purring rumble of thunder in the sky. 

I could hear my own breath being ricocheted on the walls of the mausoleum. The only living, breathing thing in there. 

The embarrassment was gone, and pride rose, thick in my chest, to curl my lips and square my shoulders. As if I had bested them all for the depravity of what I had done - not just the dead in the cemetery but everyone - for having lost some unseen shackle that had held me all my life. 

Maybe that thing was good sense. 

“What are you thinking about?” Dracula asked near my ear while he kissed it. He must have sensed some change in my posture.

“That I’m glad I didn’t deny myself,” I told him, still gazing at the picture made by the mausoleum’s door. Then, added, “Although you did make it nearly unbearable. I think I hated you for a few moments there.” He laughed, loud and cheerful. “What are you thinking about?”

“That you feel divine, and taste divine in every way,” he sighed, burying his face in my hair and pressing his hips to mine, hitting deep “and that I’m having a difficult time letting you go, to be frank. Also, I am pleased that you learned a lesson tonight.” 

“You planned this, didn’t you. With the storm, dragging me in here-”

“The opportunity presented itself.”

“Mm-hm. You sly, sly man.” I gathered some of his hair in between my fingers and pulled lightly. He groaned.

“I never claimed to be any less, and you did say that you haven’t learnt enough of what it means to be a vampire, I’m merely being helpful,” he said. I chuckled at that. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” I relaxed my embrace to look at him. He took his time in pulling back, his brows drawn together, caught in the feeling of me. I hung there for a moment, exposed and vulnerable, and I warmed as I felt our combined fluids dripping out of me. “Oh.” He set me down, holding me by my waist as my hands clung stubbornly to his shoulders in fear of my legs failing me. I readjusted my underwear to its proper place and winced when the elastic chafed the sensitive skin. The fabric felt sodden. “I desperately need a shower.” 

As I stood on my own, I winced as muscle cramps lit the insides of my thighs. It quickly brought me down from my high. 

He raised an eyebrow at me and I shook my head to let him know I was fine. He kissed the corner of my mouth before letting me go completely.

“I still have to feed you,” he said, zipping his trousers. “Then we can shower.”

“Feed me?” I asked as I fixed my shirt and coat. I looked at his neck.

“In a restaurant,” he explained. “But you can have my blood if you’re still hungry later.” He knelt before me and fit my legs in my trousers. I smiled lightly at him as I watched him tug each leg up to fit over my hips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”  Neither would I. Drinking his blood felt almost as good as having mine taken, but I’d felt full, so utterly full afterwards. As if I would burst. “Shoes.”

“What?” I asked, distracted, then looked at Dracula holding my boots out beneath my feet. “Oh, right.” I lifted each foot for him to put on my shoes. “The opera tickets,” I said, pointing at the red envelope at our feet, seeking to break my line of thought. Craving his blood was odd, especially because I was still very much alive. Obligingly, Dracula leaned and plucked it from the ground before standing up. He pulled my shirt down to reveal my bra again and I chuckled when he tucked the envelope between my breasts. 

“For safekeeping,” he said, like I had earlier.

Taking me by the hand, Dracula picked up my scarf from the ground and led us out to the graveyard again. I held out my hand for the scarf but he simply glanced at it and put the scarf on his pocket. 

“Leave your neck bare until we get to the restaurant,” he told me as he trailed a path to the arches beyond the mausoleum lane. 

My breaths were hisses on every step I took; my leg muscles begged for rest. Dracula either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care that his idea of a lesson had me almost walking from side to side. In fact, when I stole a glance at him, I saw a satisfied curl of his lip. Frowning, I swallowed my hisses and simply took the pain each swing of my legs brought me. 

I concentrated on the soothing scent of damp overturned earth and the sound of hooting owls perched on the trees around us. 

However, when we neared the big step that led off the arches into the cemented path where the car was parked, I had to choke on my pride and lean into him. 

“Needing help, darling?” He taunted as he pulled me down by my waist.

“Don’t you start,” I shot back with an edge to my voice. “Lesson learned, all right, you don’t need another boost to your ego. It’s big enough as it is.”

He grinned at me, but this time he slowed his pace as we neared the car, offering me his arm for me to lean on.

As he clicked the car’s alarm off, the headlights flickered twice, casting flashes of light upon a great dark mass muddled together across from the small road where the car was parked. 

I squinted at it, trying to make out its shape as my eyes still blinked off the sudden light. 

“It’s a fallen tree,” Dracula said. 

“I think I heard it fall earlier while we- there’s a car underneath it.” I pointed at the muddled thing, or more accurately folded with bits of metal protruding, beneath the tree trunk. The VW symbol had survived the wreckage and it winked at me. It was the only thing that managed to identify the thing as a smashed car. “That car wasn’t there when we got here.”

Uninterested, Dracula freed my arm to open the passenger’s door for me. 

“Y/N,” he called as I stepped towards the wrecked car. “Y/N, let’s go.”

“Someone might’ve gotten hurt,” I said over my shoulder as I approached what I thought were the remains of a door. 

Broken glass grated beneath my shoes. 

“You can call emergency on our way.”

A full branch of the tree obscured most of the view inside of the car but, as I bent my knees to have a peak, I saw the white balloon of an airbag and a dark stain over it. 

“There’s someone in here!” I called, eyes widening as I tapped around my body for my purse. Too late, I remembered it sat on the floor of Dracula’s car.

“He’s dead, Y/N. Leave him.” 

My hair whipped my face as I turned to look at Dracula. He waited by the car, hands in his pockets, feet crossed as he leaned. Calm, unbothered. 

“You-”

“An accident,” he said, loud and impatiently. “The storm did this. I can’t control it once it starts and I certainly couldn’t have brought down a tree on a car I couldn’t even see, much less while I was fucking you.” My face became suddenly hot and I felt my nails cutting into my palms. “There’s someone else on the driver's side, dead as well. They were following us,” he said slowly, while raising his eyebrows. “All the way from the Royal Courts. Your instinct was right. I didn’t want you to be more alarmed so I kept it to myself. They followed us through the cemetery, too. I don’t appreciate being spied upon.”

I stepped back from the car hesitantly. Their deaths got a new meaning all of a sudden, and my worry slipped from me.

“You caused the storm to chase them out?” 

“Yes, and they met an unfortunate end.”

“Were they Zoe’s?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed as he pushed away from the BMW, taking long strides to join me. Bending at the waist, he grabbed the tree branch concealing the door and snapped it with a casual flick of his wrist. It fell at my feet with a ruffle of leaves and a loud crack. “Knowing what Zoe told you earlier, I would guess so,” he tilted his head as he inspected the airbag and bleeding head under the sunken car roof. I preferred staring at the shards of glass at my feet. Dracula straightened. “They don’t smell of her. I never heard them mention her name or the Foundation. They were talking about us, where we were going, what we were doing...”

“Did they watch us?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“They were running back to their car by the time we started.” Putting his arm around me, Dracula nudged me to make my feet move towards his car. “They’ll be found in the morning if you don’t want to call the police.”

As I allowed myself to be led, I looked back at the fallen tree and the crushed car. It wouldn’t make much of a difference if I called now or let them be found. They were practically buried, either way, with the cemetery just across. 

I shook my head.

What a grim thing to think about. Had to be the trauma talking. It brought absurd thoughts, I heard. 

But what trauma? I was hardly shocked to find that there were two dead people inside the car. 

I searched for pity or some semblance of sadness and remorse, but found none. Their deaths didn’t bother me in the least. I knew I could be cold and yet finding nothing but relief that they were dead - Zoe’s spies, possibly - was a surprise.

Calling was the right thing to do, though, so I would do it. 

Dracula opened the door for me. The dome light blinked alive, illuminating the seat and my purse on the floor. I took my seat and buckled up while Dracula closed the door and rounded the car.

“Can I stay the night at your place?” I blurted the question as he sat behind the wheel. “Diana is in Scotland and I don’t want to be alone knowing that Zoe’s threat was real.”

“She threatened you?”

“Not really. Actually I threatened her,” I said, making a face. Dracula smiled, looking proud. “I don’t think she’ll actually do anything. Um, it took a lot of convincing to get her to go along with-” I sighed. “You know.” He nodded, face blank. “She doesn’t have the resources right now to do anything, besides she’s got one foot in the grave already. She won’t last long.”

“I’ll  stop by your house so you can get your things. We can order in if you like. I’ll understand if you can’t stomach food now.”

I picked up my purse and found my phone. As I dialed emergency and glued my phone to my ear, I relaxed in my seat.

“Actually, I’m craving Italian,” I informed Dracula, unashamed. “And a good glass of wine.”

His grin was wide, and it hinted at something he knew that I didn’t. 

I didn’t dare ask.

_________________________________________

A/N.2: Genuine question: too much sex? Too little? Listen, I think they had enough pent up frustration and energy that it kinda deserves to be, uh, celebrated. But maybe you don't agree with me. Also, I get carried away with sex scenes, so, let me know if I should just get to the point sometimes.

@carly-0-5 @plutonianvenusiangoddess @festering-queen @libra-lovecraft @crossoverqueen89 @rheabalaur @deborahlazaroff @guiltyfiend @fallen-angel-333 @a-dorky-book-keeper @girlonfireice @thorin-smokin-shield @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @saint-hardy @xoxodrac @illbegoinhome @dreamer2381 @princessayveke @25ocurer @vampirescurse @blue-serendipity @sunscreenfeverdream @iwasjustablur @daydreaming136 @hello-itsbarbie @bittenlove @newyorkrican922 @soph3228 @feralstare @clussysposts @jmor27 @spnkpholland @goddessofmischief03 @mistandmoss  @luciahoneychurch @gloriousgam3r @candleslut @rainbowgoblinfan @theswiftnational @soulofsalt​ @werwulfy

Feedback is especially welcome because I miss posting and I quite like this chapter.<br />

Overall thoughts...? - sex scenes or otherwise. We aren't very far from the ending, it would be interesting to hear from you.

[mah-gah-lee]

What a weird family reunion Reggie x  Reader (xLuke)

gif originally posted by @jatpsource​

Word Count: 3515 words

 Summary: You’re Reggie’s little sister. You were 3 when he died. You’re now a ghost for a decade. One night, you recognize your brother and jumped into him to an unexpected family reunion. How is it going to happen? Will Reggie believe you? In a mysterious way, that’s Luke who help you to convinced Reggie.

 Warnings: cuss (language), mention of death, mention of divorce, mention of drugs

 A/N: This is my first fic about jatp characters. Hope you’ll enjoy! keep in mind that french is my first language, so i’m so sorry if there’s some mistakes in my fic

 disclaimer: It takes place during episodes 6 and 7. I do not take into account the possibility of a Juke. The chemistry while they sing is there but no romantic feelings.

 Tagged: @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @standingtalllove​ 

 _______

Losing a child is the worst thing a parent could live, losing two is unimaginable. It’s seems being 17 years old was a new malediction in Peters family.

 You were 3 when your older brother, Reginald, died in a weird hot dog accident. At that point, your parents were literally a fight away from a divorce but never did it because of you. You were too young to be in a divided family, according to them. But Reggie's death separated them for good. Yet they really tried to support each other, to overcome that and give you all the attention you needed. But your mother overprotected you and made you live in the shadow of your late brother. Your dad couldn't stand it. And when they finally divorce, moving out from reggie’s childhood house, you went to live with your dad.

 Even though you were too young to form a strong bond with your brother, in a way you missed him. Your mother’s house was full of pictures of him, some of his clothes were still in a room, dedicated to him. When you visited your mother, you didn’t understand why you always found yourself in this room. You were drawn like a magnet to the comforting room. Reggie’s presence in this new house brought you such a sense of security that your mother had repeatedly found you asleep on a pile of your brother’s T-shirts.

 And then you died in 2009. Kanye West had interrupted Taylor Swift's speech at the VMAs, Miley Cyrus hadn't gone crazy yet and One Direction didn't exist yet. What an era! You didn't know why the great light didn't come looking for you but you were there, as a ghost in 2009. And the time has passed ... You've had your best concerts, the best parties. A forever teenager who couldn't eat, drink or sleep.

 And then 2020 came.

 …

 You were tired of always doing the same thing for over a decade, but you couldn't help but go to every open scene that came up in your beautiful city. It was as if an inexplicable force was pushing you to go there.

 This evening was no exception to the rule and you were in a very hip little bar in the city center. You wore one of those sleeveless, gray crop tops with high waisted pants, your leather jacket draped over your shoulders. Your eyes were directly drawn to a group of girls in colorful costumes. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. It's been 10 years since you died and it seemed to you that these girls looked like the same plagues that ruined the lives of so many teenagers in your time. You put on an expression of disgust when they all took the stage, but when the music started you couldn't help but admit it was pretty catchy. However, you didn't expect a ghost to appear in the middle of the stage, improvising a choreography. Was that part of the show?

 But looking at the audience's non-reaction, you knew it wasn't. The ghost disappeared for the first time, and your gaze sought directly the distinctive light source of another apparition in the room. Your gaze lingered on a small group of three boys - the blond boy included - and two girls. You have wrinkled your eyes to better distinguish the teenagers, and your face expressed confusion.

 “Reggie? “

 You wanted to go see him so badly. You were pretty sure it was your brother but it all came too fast. The moment you decided to walk towards them, the organizer announced a new band.

 “Okay, looks like we're close the night out with one more group…Julie and the fat ones.”

 What was that for a name? Your attention had been diverted and when you looked back at the group, the boys had disappeared as one of the young girls took the stage. Your heart was beating so fast. You couldn't go wrong; you had seen so many pictures at your mother's house that it was impossible that this boy was not your brother. But you missed your chance…

 Julie started to sing and your eyes were captivated, as much as your ears were. This kid was so talented! When she sang a rather high note, the tension in the room charged into electricity. The next second, the young singer was joined by the group of boys you had seen in her company. Appearing distinctly as the ghosts did. On drums there was the blond boy you had seen dancing a few moments earlier, on the electric guitar, a boy with tousled brown hair who seemed slightly familiar to you ... and on bass, with a flannel shirt, there was your brother ... Reggie was there, identical to the photos you had admired so much.

 The bar was on fire as Julie and The Phantoms performed. What a sick name for a group made up of two-thirds of ghosts! The song was so catchy that your heart beat to the sound of the music. But your eyes did not leave your brother, you were unable to move, frozen in place. What should you do ? Will you introduce yourself after the performance? And, what would you say? "Hey hi Reggie, I'm your sister, I died ten years ago and you twenty-five years ago. Unbelievable, right?! Nice to see you again" And once again, before you knew it, the song was over and the boys were gone again, leaving Julie alone on stage in the bewilderment of the many people in the facility.

 “for God's sake, where are they?”

 You didn't want to miss it anymore. Even though the whole situation was strange, you wanted to see your brother again.

 Your eyes flew over the room before seeing the scene play out before your eyes. Julie seemed petrified in front of a man. The boys watched in amazement and as Julie left with what appeared to be her father, you rushed over to the group of three musicians before they disappeared again.

 “omg please don't poof out again.” You said almost out of breath

 The boys looked at you like you were crazy before the guitarist jumped off the bar counter, bursting with energy.

 "Wait, you can see us?"

 “as much as when mister "all eyes on me" made his performance”, you were pointing your head at the blond boy.

 The group looked at each other in puzzlement and Reggie finally spoke, his blue eyes full of mischief.

 “So…hi there cutie, how can we help you?”

 Your face expressed disgust and you stuck your tongue out mimicking vomiting.

Luke gave Alex an amused smile, seeing Reggie flirting and your spontaneous reaction. The bassist couldn't help but charm the pretty ladies.

 “Wow Reggie, that's gross ... you're my brother.”

  Reggie burst out laughing at your response, not noticing that you called him by his first name when he hadn't even introduced himself to you yet.

 “Yeah right, for sure. You just could tell me you weren’t interested. But I’m charming...”

 It was the first time he had been given such an excuse but you looked so serious that he stopped dead in his tracks as Luke and Alex watched you. They always knew Reggie had a sister. But the scene unfolding before their eyes seemed impossible. (Y / N) was so young when they died and now must have been around 28, something like that. But the girl in front of them was a teenager, their age. How was this possible?

 You didn't want to drop the information like that. It was worse than anything you could have imagined. But it had escaped you. Now he didn't take you seriously. Your eyes were wet with tears. It was scary to find you in front of your brother for the first time as a ghost teenager. Luke looked panicked when he noticed your eyes, squeezing Reggie's shoulder as you seemed to beg.

 “Can I ... can I meet you in a quieter time please, Reginald?”

 Your brother's eyes widened as Luke's hug on his shoulder tightened a bit. The eagerness and desperation in your voice had made both boys react, Alex was just looking at all of you like all of this wasn't real. The use of Reggie's name made him tense, surprised. Few called him Reginald. In fact, only his family, and the boys when they wanted to annoy him, called him that way. And although his nickname is obvious enough to deduce his

full first name, he deeply felt that you weren't just anyone.

  He seemed a little panicked and looked around for his friends to support him. As if the solution would fall by itself just by the presence of Luke and Alex.

 “Okay, but I want Luke and Alex’s there! What about tomorrow? I’ll give you the address!”

 Wow, that was quick.

 “hm, yeah, yeah sure, as you want”

 You nodded and Reggie silently slipped a note to the drummer. Alex took a pen, write something on a paper towel and gave it to you. You weren’t surprise, you also can make some tricks. And you just had the time to thanks them before they poofted again.

 …

 The next day, you landed in front of Julie's garage. Lucky she's at school because you shouldn't be explaining your presence, so she managed to see you the way she saw boys.

 Before entering, you peeked out the window and frowned. There seemed to be only Luke so far. He was leaning over the piano, his head in a notebook. Your body went through part of the garage door and you cleared your throat.

 “hmm, hi ... i came to see Reggie ..”

 Luke instantly raised his head and you caught his attention.

 “oh uh, hi! He should be here soon, come in.….”

 Silence felt as Luke motioned for you to sit on the couch. It was a rather pleasant studio; the plants gave a warm atmosphere to the room and the music set sent you good vibes.

 "Does your girlfriend mind that I'm here? I mean, that seems to be your HQ"

 "girlfriend?"

 "The girl you sing with" I simply said.

 "Julie? Um, yeah, she's not my girlfriend. She-sh-she’s great and we have this powerful connection but…not, not in a romantic way. Music tied us. Music and friendship "

 Luke chuckled lightly as he scratched his head. You were surprised they weren't dating. Yesterday the tension was intense. He seemed authentic when he had continued his momentum. You let out a smile amused by so much overflow.

 “It's okay, I don't need to know your full relationship statute or your social security number.”

 The guitarist gave you a frank smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. For a ghost, his gaze was really alive.

 “ I’m Luke, by the way”

 "Y / N… Re .."

 "Reggie's little sister… I-I remember you a little."

 "You look familiar to me. Maybe I saw you in a few pictures with Reggie."

 Silence fell and you started to feel anxious. Maybe it was a bad idea? You had grown up since Reggie died ... were you still his little sister after all? Luke seemed to notice your dismay and put a comforting hand on your knee.

 “hey, is something bothering you?”

 “What if he doesn't believe me ... if he definitely thinks I'm not his sister.”

 “Let's be honest, it's a little hard to believe. The last time I saw you, you were three years old.”

 It was as if the memories flooded into your mind and let you carried away in your words.

 “Yeah, you gave me this teddy bear with a guitar and told Reggie you wanted to be my favorite.”

 Luke chuckled slightly before staring at you, speechless. He seemed dazed. This anecdote dates back to twenty-five years anyway. He himself had a hard time remembering it until you said it a few seconds earlier.

 “what was the smell of the stuffed animal?” he asked, confused about that funny fact

 “sorry, what?”

 “the plush, what did it smell like?”

 “hot waffle, why?”

 “okay ... maybe you are his sister ... tell me more about what you remember”

 You looked at him with a puzzled expression. Everything had been so natural before he stopped in all the movements. And now, it was hard to think about for the memories you had of Reggie on demand. The teddy bear given by Luke story had slipped out of your mind without you realizing it. As your brain seemed to boil, the fog of your thoughts cleared.

 “can I use your guitar?”

 “hell no ... why?” Luke exclaimed with far too much anticipation

 “I have this lullaby stuck inside of my head ... I think Reggie sang it to me when I was a child”

 Your pleading and desperate gaze fell on Luke who categorically refused to let you take his guitar. He ends up grabbing his six acoustic strings, terminated. There was something about you that made him weak.

 “Maybe you can teach me but ... my guitar is my guitar, nobody touches it.”

 You nodded and the lead singer moved closer to you. You were stunned by its smell, like a distant memory. Luke had definitely been a part of your life before he died, you were sure of that. You leaned over her shoulder, humming the lullaby that was left in your head. It didn't take long for him to find the right chords. Luke continued several times before you stopped singing, looking at him intently.

 “that's exactly it ... this lullaby”

 You both looked at each other, an indecipherable expression in your eyes. You both jumped at the sound of the garage door. Reggie appeared with Alex.

 "Ready to compose hellish songs! oh did I interrupt something?”

 "No, no I was there to see you. I guess you have a lot of questions."

 "hell yeah, can we start from the beginning?"

  You smiled to approve his request. The boys settled down on the sofa, while you sat down on one of the single armchairs. And the flow of questions began

  “When are you born?”

 “(your birthday date) 1992” you simply answered.

 “What’s your name?”

 (y/n) (y/m/n) Peters

 It’s seemed to convinced a little Reggie but doubt was all over his face.  It was information you could easily get on the internet nowadays.

 “What’s my favorite food?”

 “Pizza, mom said your favorite was the extra cheese with pepperoni”

 “And what was my favorite toy?”

 “I freaking don’t know, how can I suppose to known that?”

 “ah ah!” he pointed the finger at you, as if that answer was proof that you were lying. It broke your heart but you didn't show it.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and Reggie kept going to ask you some question. Of course, you would have liked to have answered his questions correctly. Your mother told you some anecdotes about him but not to the point of knowing all the details.

 “What’s the most terrible thing I said to my mom?”

 “Omg I don’t fucking know! I was 3 when you’re died, asshole!”

 Luke smiled when you exploded. Reggie was Reggie, as weird as possible. Now you were angry and desperate. Your brother didn’t believe you and he kept dragging you into this miserable feeling that you were never going to get your brother back. You had spent your short life living with a faint memory of him. Your blankie was one of his t-shirts, his voice reasoned in your head when you couldn’t sleep.

But then, in front of him, you were a stranger to him. Your heart was bruised from not being able to hug him and to finally meet this brother who had left far too soon.

 “Okay, okay… So, how can you proof me you’re really my sister?! “

 In the room’s corner, Luke looked at you, you looked desperate, about to cry again. He grabbed his guitar and cleared his throat. Reggie turned to him as the guitarist still had his eyes on you, a heartwarming smile hanging across his face. You had managed to convince him in a few minutes. He felt connected to you and the things you told him were disturbing. You could only be Reggie's sister; it was impossible otherwise.

 "Hey…What about the song you told me earlier." he said with a soft and comfort voice

 Your eyes caught his gaze, grateful for the initiative. You nodded and Luke started playing the few notes you had taught him a few minutes earlier. It was so different from all the songs the brunette could play before. It was a lullaby, such easy children's music with just a few notes.   Of course, the band wasn’t supposed to play when Julie wasn’t in the room but, Luke had thought it was the best thing to do to encourage you to keep going. He didn’t know why, but he wanted Reggie to believe you. Luke believed you, hard as nails. There only had to look at your eyes to understand this reality, and Luke had noticed that. You had the same blue eyes as your brother. How could Reggie still doubt that? You started to sing

 You're so sleepy

Very much sleepy

You want to go to the fairyland

You close your eyes

And jump into your dream.

When you'll wake up

I’ll still be on your team.

 The instant Reggie heard the first notes, he knew. But hearing you sing the lullaby he had invented for you when you didn't want to sleep as a child, was a magical moment. You were his baby sister. He gave you that sad little puppy face, so overwhelmed. Reggie opened his arms and you jumped into a hug, so glad he finally accepted the fact that you were his sister.

You felt oddly safe again, like taking a nap in Reggie's pile of old t-shirts. You were so happy to find your brother and to be able to live your non-life by his side. Nothing would be as boring as it used to be. Reggie pushed you away with a concerned look

 "but wait ... how did you die?"

 "Yeah ... I don't really know ... I was at a really, really good rock concert and I bought this drink ... and I think I got drugged up there and ... I guess I'm dead? tadaa " you tried to tell him in a light tone.

He had just learned that he had a little sister. He didn't have to know that she was sneaking out at rock concerts and drinking alcohol before she was old enough. Right? Alex looked at Luke and Reggie with his half amused half confused smile. As for Luke, he fidgeted from foot to foot at the discovery. Y / N was as much rock and roll as they all were. Rebellion had to be his middle name

You loosened Reggie's embrace and lowered your head, pursing your lips so as not to show your embarrassment. He asked if you wanted snacks and you nodded. There was a slight silence. You didn't notice the urgent look Luke gave Alex but the next moment the blond jumped up to accompany the bassist, leaving you alone in the garage with the lead singer.

 The silences were a little longer until Luke cautiously approached you. You could feel the awkwardness from miles away.

 “ Sooo, you made this.”

 “ yeah ...” you answered in a shy voice

 It was the moment you had to thank him but your words seemed frozen. You mustered all the courage to plant your gaze in Luke's eyes.

 “Thank you ... for helping me earlier.”

 “oh it was nothing”.

 “I ... yes, yes it was. You can't imagine how important seeing Reggie again is to me. Thanks for ... for helping me open his eyes.”

 A slight smile caught his lips and he reached for your cheek before stopping his gesture. Instead of stroking your skin, he simply put a section of your hair back behind your ear.

 “I would do anything for my best friends.”

 And Reggie was definitely one of Luke’s best friend. You hardly swallowed, your stomach contorting under the effect that the guitarist made you. Time had seemed to fly at an incredible speed as the moment was interrupted by Reggie and Alex coming back to you.

 “OMG LUKE DON’T FLIRT WITH MY SISTER, SHE’S 3!”

 You cleared your throat and stepped aside to pull yourself away from Luke as far as possible. Your gaze fell on your brother and you raised an eyebrow at the last remark. 3 years old, really? You were 3 years old twenty-five years ago ... now you were eternally a teenager

 “I’m seventeen.”

 “Listen, i'm your big brother, you’re three, end of discussion.”

 Your face wanted to laugh and you pursed your lips to keep from succumbing. But your eyes… Your eyes met Luke's in a complicity that slowly settled. Could you fall in love with your big brother's best friend? Definitely yes...

[tealquacks]

They Share a Kitchen 3: Grocery Gathering

Originally posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317644/chapters/58625389

@alexalexisalexej

I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope y’all enjoy!

It had been a little over a week since Remus made the croissants, and the daily routines still hadn’t quite recovered. At breakfast, Virgil showed up ten minutes later than usual, and stood nervously in the doorway, checking to make sure nobody unexpected would be in the kitchen. Roman never came to visit the kitchen, but Patton brought him meals three times a day— 9:30 am, 1:20 pm, and 5:50 pm. Virgil would occasionally join him. 

Patton and Janus still met for tea every single day, but they never stayed in the kitchen anymore. Patton would ask Janus to take walks with him. They’d stroll through Roman’s side of the imagination, then drink their tea and talk. The only reason Logan knew this was because Patton brought it up at dinner one night. Virgil left shortly after. 

The only people who remained unaffected were Remus and him. They kept to their usual schedules. Except now Logan found himself staying up late to talk to Remus while he cooked. He had yet to make paella— something about wanting to save it for a special occasion.

Every day felt like a special occasion. Logan couldn’t help but stare at the charts he had made, one pre-Remus, and one post-Remus. Color coded and organized. Pristine.

“It’s surprising,” Logan had said at breakfast that morning, eating some waffles Patton had made, “that Remus spending one day in the kitchen threw all of our schedules into chaos.”

Virgil glared at him silently. Patton stared down blankly at his waffles.

“I don’t like him,” Patton murmured.

“You seem to get along with Deceit just fine,” Virgil spat, lip twitching in silent anger. Patton sighed.

“His name is Janus, Virgil. Be polite.”

“Why should I care?”

“Because it’s rude to call him Deceit— Logan, how would you feel if we only called you Logic?”

Logan sat straight. If he said he didn’t care, that would be mostly honest. If he said he did care, that would make it seem he had some sort of emotional attachment to his name. He swallowed.

“I don’t care either way. However, Janus now seems to prefer we address him by his real name. Besides, deceit is not his only function.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, staring angrily down at his plate of waffles. That was the end of the conversation at the breakfast table. Logan ate in silence, slowly sipping water out of a glass with a lemon on the rim. 

Now, he sat at his desk. The clock said it was 2:28 pm. The kitchen would be perfectly empty, since Virgil and Patton no longer had their little talks in the kitchen. Logan didn’t know where they went, and he didn’t care to ask. Of course he worried about them, but he didn’t think where they talked mattered so much. He set down his pen, thinking of when Roman had run from the kitchen in horror, Remus doing nothing but sitting at the table.

Suddenly, someone knocked at his door. Logan stood from his comfortable office chair, and walked to the door. He adjusted his tie and smoothed his hair down before calmly opening it. That calm facade almost broke when he saw Remus on the other side, wearing a painfully bright yellow bucket hat, a fishnet shirt, and a green pair of cargo shorts. He had a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hello, Remus.”

“You remember how you said I should make paella? Well I thought real long and hard and I thought that you could not only help me with the cooking but you could also help me with gathering the shit that goes in it! Like clams and mussels. One recipe says squid but I’ve honestly never cooked with squid and I’m not interested in fucking with that.”

Logan blinked, slowly trying to take in the information, and the sight of Remus before him. Remus never came to his room. Nobody did. It seemed like there had been an unspoken rule made, that he was never to be interrupted. Now the matter at hand.

“You want me to accompany you in collecting the ingredients?”

Remus nodded violently, causing the bright hat to flop off his head. He picked it up, and put it back on. Logan blinked.

“I’ll take that as a yes. And this involves going under the water?”

“No shit Sherlock! That’s where the mussels are! Unless you count these guns—“ Remus flexed his arms, a stunning smile on his face. Logan looked at the bag he carried, then to the yellow hat on his head.

“I think it would be best if you changed into something more… sensible.”

Remus wagged his brows, leaning up against the doorway.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m wearing a speedo under these shorts.”

“I meant the hat. It will make you very, very visible.”

“It’s okay,” Remus rebutted, “I think fish are colorblind. Maybe. Do you know?”

Logan gnawed on the inside of his lip. He didn’t know. He couldn’t say so, that would be seen as weakness. But Remus was… different, somehow, uncaring about strength and weakness. He took a slow, deep breath.

“I honestly don’t know,” Logan responded, “most fish only see two colors, but I’m unsure how many can see yellow. However, if your plans are to go underwater, it would be wise to forgo the hat.”

Remus shrugged, took off his hat, and tossed it into Logan’s room. It landed on the neat sheets of his bed.

“We won’t be in the water the whole time,” Remus said, “we still have to get other things? Like, erm, I don’t have the recipe on me but we’re almost out of apples, and honey— honey will be a bitch to get but you know what I have?”

Logan furrowed his brows, staring at the bag.

“A beekeeping suit, a smoker, and an apiary of some sort?”

“Nope! Just my morning star and overwhelming hubris!”

Logan didn't know what he’d expected. Of course Remus wouldn’t go about getting honey in any sort of logical way. 

“There are other things we will need.”

“You have a special request?”

Logan shook his head.

“I don’t. But paella requires saffron,” Logan explained. “Saffron is derived from the stigma of Crocus sativus.”

“Huh? What’s uh….” Remus trailed off, snapping his fingers a few times. “What’s the common name of that?”

“They are also known as autumn crocus, or saffron crocus. Do you know where these flowers grow?”

Remus raised his eyebrows, tapping his fingers to one another— thumb to index, thumb to middle, thumb to ring, thumb to pinkie. 

“Lemme think… I have a spice garden in my side, but I didn’t know that saffron came from a fucking flower! But I do have a bit of land I could… flowers. Goddamn! Saffron from flowers! That’s pretty cool! I have to ask— how did people think of putting it on shit?”

Logan suppressed a smile as Remus flapped one of his hands a little. It felt nice, being asked harmless questions, not being interrupted. Even then, he couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop, for Remus to tell him to shut up. He took a deep breath.

“It is commonly believed that saffron originated in Greece, however most of it is grown in Iran, I believe.” He paused, giving Remus ample time to say something. Instead, Remus waved his hand at him.

“Well? Go on.” 

Logan shifted from foot to foot.

“Saffron is incredibly expensive due to the fact that one flower only produces three strands when it blooms, and the flowers only bloom for one week each year. Saffron has been used and cultivated by humans for more than three thousand and five hundred years, and has been used not only as a seasoning, but also as a dye, fragrance, and medicine.”

Remus grinned, eyebrows raised. 

“Cocaine used to be used as a medicine! Freud diagnosed it to some of his patients for depression, I think! Did you know that cocaine, like meth, can cause people to hallucinate vermin crawling under their skin? And they’ll scratch at their skins to get them out!”

“Ah, yes, delusional parasitosis, also called formication.”

“Fornication?”

Logan shook his head.

“I doubt formication and fornication could be mistaken for one another, unless ones idea of fornication is subdermal penetration.”

“Oh, talk dirty to me!” Remus cried, rolling his shoulders. Logan couldn’t stop his lips from twitching up into a small smile, but turned his expression back to a straight face as quickly as he could. 

“So what are you looking to retrieve?” Logan asked. Remus reached into one of the many pockets of his cargo shorts, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He dramatically unfolded it.

“Apples, honey, saffron, I guess, and mussels and clams and whatever else we may find. So is that a yes?”

Logan paused for a moment. He’d been to Roman’s side of the imagination, and the land was bright and beautiful, filled with fantastical creatures and lush landscapes. However, Remus was the opposite of Roman, or at least the bits of creativity that Thomas considered unpleasant enough to purge from his consciousness. So what did that include? The horrifying, the macabre, and the explicit. Dicks, drugs, and the disturbing. None of it could hurt him. And judging by the fact Remus sought him out to come with him, he wouldn’t even be threatened. As long as he was cautious, he would remain unharmed during their journey. That was reasonable enough to assume.

 But what about the others? He would be expected back at dinner, which was at five pm. That would only give him two and a half hours with Remus, and time seemed to go much faster while around him, probably something to do with how Remus’ nature distorted reality around him, that reality including the way one would perceive time passing. Logan looked into his room. If he left the door closed, the others wouldn’t bother him. Patton would leave dinner outside of his door, he’d done it before, many times, but he wouldn’t come in. So he could miss dinner. If they asked questions, he could say he was busy. And they’d believe him.

Logan stared at the yellow bucket hat, garish and blinding on top of his sheets. He swallowed.

“Yes, I will accompany you.”

Remus flapped his hands expressively, smiling like a million and a half suns. He hopped from foot to foot, then did a little spin. 

“Fuck yeah! I’ll let you get changed, meet me in the kitchen as soon as possible! It’ll be so much fun!”

Just as Logan opened his mouth to tell Remus he would be wearing his usual clothing, Remus sprinted away. He let out a deep sigh. He wore his usual outfit— black dress pants, a black polo, indigo tie, dress shoes. Comfortable and professional. If he were to open his closet, there would be exact clones of the exact same outfit. Of course there was always the clothing he wore on Halloween, but a bulky, velveteen coat would be even less practical. The Sherlock costume would be out of the question, and he’d long since gotten rid of his onesie. 

So that left him in his typical outfit. However, the tie around his throat could possibly get caught and damaged. Logan touched his striped indigo tie, and slowly loosened it. Halfway through doing so, he realized he would look like an absolute fool without his tie. Even to Remus. Logan pulled the tie tight, so tight it almost choked him, and walked out of his room, slowly shutting the door behind him.

Logan silently crept through the hallway then down the stairs, making sure to skip the one squeaky step. If Virgil caught him with Remus, willingly spending time with him… well, he didn’t know how he would react. Virgil hated him, saw him as a nuisance, and there certainly was some history between the two of them. He had no clue what, despite the fact Virgil had once been a ‘dark’ side. 

He stepped into the kitchen. Remus sat on the table, kicking his legs back and forth. Somehow, even wearing those ridiculous clothes, he looked like he belonged in the kitchen. Logan pushed his glasses up. Remus smiled at him, hopping off of the table and grabbing his arm in a tight grip. His hands felt burning hot.

“Are you ready to go?”

Was he? If the others—

“—Yes, I am.”

Remus tugged on his arm, and they both sunk down into the white tile of the kitchen floor.

A gust of warm, sweet air hit him in the face. Logan gasped at the sensation, staggering backwards. He tripped on a stone, and landed on his ass in tall grass. All around them grew wildflowers and grass, and the clouds gently danced in the sky. The flowers swayed in the wind, blossoms of all hues growing around them. Truly, a beautiful landscape. Strange.

“Is this your side of the imagination?” Logan asked, ignoring Remus’ offered hand in favor of standing up by himself. 

“Yup! Wild and uncivilized. I had an idea for a monster— it’s an intelligent being that’s made of fungi that connects to the roots of plants, like how a brain makes neuron paths! Earth brain! We’re currently standing upon the brain of the smartest being in the imagination! Well, except for you, now that you’re here.”

Logan nervously looked down at his feet, face flushed. He really didn’t want to ask what the thing looked like, but his curiosity begged him to. His ego, meanwhile, preened at the small praise.

“Does it have a body?” Logan asked, “does it need to feed?”

“Yes to both questions!” Remus proclaimed, “The body is like. Laying down sort of? It’s like a big, smart pancake! And it eats! Don’t worry, it won’t eat us. Or any other side. Or cows since it’s lactose intolerant. But it won’t eat any sentient beings, like us sides! Except for Roman and his creations of course.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Why only him?”

Remus twirled around, then pointed off into the distance. Logan looked to where he was pointing, and there in the horizon he spotted a massive palace, one he immediately recognized as belonging to Roman.. 

Remus opened his mouth, then suddenly shut it, a manic smile splitting his face. 

“Look, here comes a unicorn! Oh, you’ll love this.”

And just as Remus had said, a white stallion with a gleaming horn pranced into the field of flowers. It wandered forward, then bent down and started to graze. As it opened its mouth to take a bite, the plants suddenly burst to life, wrapping around the unicorn. It fought and kicked as the thick grass dragged it to the ground— no, into the ground, as if the prairie earth had turned into quicksand. The unicorn whinnied and thrashed, until it was pulled fully under the ground, horn disappearing in the thick foliage. 

“It absorbs its prey, like a protist.” Logan said breathlessly. If he could feel, he wouldn’t know if he felt shocked or impressed. 

“Yeah! This land, in like a mile wide stripe, is the border between my land and Roman’s. And I don’t want anything to do with his shit. So anything that comes over here gets chomped up by Bartholomew!”

“Bartholomew?” Logan asked.

Remus crouched, patting the ground. He flopped onto his front, pressing a little kiss to the earth.

“It goes by Bart for short. And don’t worry, we had a conversation and it’s fine with it/its pronouns. Anyways what should we get first?”

Logan stared at the earth, shifting from foot to foot. Thousands of questions were bubbling in his head, but Remus had brought him to gather ingredients, not to ask questions. 

“Apples,” he croaked out. Remus leapt to his feet, looking him in the eye.

“I said it won’t absorb you. It only eats Roman and Roman’s shit. And even if you did get eaten, you’d be able to sink out. You’re safe.”

Logan inhaled slowly, then let out a deep breath. He didn’t care if he was safe. He wanted to ask how Bartholomew dissolved its prey, what acid it used to break down prey, he wanted to ask about the ph of the soil—

“Let’s go get the apples,” Logan insisted.

Remus nodded.

“The orchard is like, ten miles away? I don’t know but I can teleport us. Will it make you puke? Since Jannie told me that when he and Patton were in the imagination they saw Roman and Roman teleported them away from him and then Patton puked his guts up!”

“I don’t puke,” Logan explained, “I’m not human, and I can’t pretend to be.”

“You are a part of a human. Anyways, let’s go!”

Remus grabbed his arm, and the world shifted around them, the ground fell out from under his feet— for an instant, he felt like he was flying and falling all at the same time.

Then the ground appeared again. Logan stumbled. The sun was filtered through the branches of tall trees, taller than any apple tree he’d seen. The ground felt hard, and thorny bushes grew between each massive tree. Strangely enough, even though the air felt warm, the branches had no leaves, as if winter was coming. Logan looked down at his feet. The earth was covered in a layer of frost. He crouched down and touched it, and his fingers brushed coarse weeds and warm frost.

“This is fascinating,” Logan said. He scooped a little bit of frost into his hand. It didn’t melt. 

“How so?”

“Where do I start? The trees— they’re far too tall to be apple trees, yet they still bear fruit. And they have no leaves, which raises the question of how they perform photosynthesis. Not only that but the ground is covered in frost, and the frost is warm. The frost is warm, but it also doesn’t melt in my touch. Truly fascinating.”

Remus flicked his wrist, and a red apple the size of a fist fell into his palm.

“I like the way that frost looks, but I fucking hate the cold! So I made this place! And the branches are high so I can climb them and see out above the entirety of the land! But if you take issue with the height of the trees…”

Remus took a bite of the apple. He stomped his foot. Suddenly, one of the trees shrank, smaller and smaller, until it was the size of an actual apple tree. Ripe, beautiful apples hung off the branches.

“There,” Remus said, “that should be low enough for you to reach.”

“I’m not that much shorter than you,” Logan said, “do you have something to keep the apples in?”

Remus reached into the bag, and pulled out a wicker basket. Logan almost asked how he managed to do that, but realized it would be pointless. This was Remus’ land, it ran by his rules.

“I have a question!” Remus proclaimed.

“Go ahead,” Logan said, silently glad Remus had gone back to asking questions.

“Why are you so touchy about shapeshifting? Like. You never do it. I mean when the cameras aren’t rolling. You look exactly like Thomas and you never change it up!”

Logan froze. He pulled an apple from one of the branches and set it carefully in the basket.

“Patton is emotionally unstable. Virgil is a ticking time bomb. Roman tends to prioritize fantastical ideals over reality. Janus is level headed, but Thomas only just accepted him. And I’m unsure if he’ll ever accept you.”

Remus took another big bite of the apple.

“And what does this have to do with you not shapeshifting?”

Logan sighed.

“Thomas needs someone to be steady. Someone for him to rely on and trust no matter what the situation is. I don’t want to lose his trust.”

Remus giggled. Logan picked another apple.

“He trusts Patton even when he’s a fucking puppet. It’s not about trust, is it?”

Logan set the apple down in his basket.

“How many of these do we need?”

“Fuck if I know, fill the basket. But if it’s not about trust, then what is it about?”

Logan picked an apple, staring at the deep red color. He rubbed it against his polo, and he could see his reflection.

“Thomas hasn’t been listening to me as much as he should. I’m hoping that if I maintain the same appearance as him, he’ll be more inclined to listen to what I have to say.”

Logan stared at the apple. He shouldn’t be here. If the others found out he’d spent so much time with Remus, then what would they think of him? Would they consider him a friend anymore? That plus the fact he was picking apples, something they didn’t even need to do because they could be summoned with the snap of a finger. He didn’t need to eat. Logan set the apple in his basket.

Remus hummed. He flicked his wrist again, and apples began to rain from the sky. They struck the ground hard enough to bruise, and the noise they made was thunderous.

“Do you think the apple rain helps or diminishes the experience of apple picking?”

Logan stared up at the sky— cloudy, with a chance of apples.

“I don’t think catching apples in a basket counts as picking.”

“But it does count as fun!” Remus insisted.

“It’s not very effective.”

“Really now? Watch this!”

Remus pulled another wicker basket from the bag, and held it above his head. One, two, three apples hit the basket hard. The fourth made a sickening crunch as it hit the basket, and Logan flinched.

“What was that?”

“Some of the apples have bones!”

Logan furrowed his brows, looking at Remus. Another apple fell into his basket, thankfully lacking the crunching.

“An odd feature for an apple to have. What are the purpose of the bones? Structural stability? Do the bones assist in reproduction?”

“None of that!” Remus responded, “I just like the crunch! And Jannie likes the extra calcium!”

Logan nodded. Somehow, the fact that nothing made sense was logical. This was Remus’ land, it obeyed him. He plucked another apple from the tree.

“You know, Logan,” Remus said after a moment,  basket held over his head, “I think you’re Eve.”

Logan raised his eyebrow.

“And what do you mean by that?”

Remus shrugged. Another apple landed in the basket with a crunch.

“Well, you see, Eve ate the apple from the forbidden tree, because she wanted to know the difference between good and evil, she wanted to see like god. In all honesty, I don’t think she was tricked. She knew what she wanted. She knew what she was getting into. She was just scared to be held liable. She was scared of the judgement.”

Logan plucked another apple from the tree. He had to stand on his toes to reach it. What Remus was saying made no sense. If God had dropped him in the garden and told him to not eat the apple, he would’ve followed the rules. And he certainly feared no judgement. Certainly.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t? So you would have rather stayed ignorant? Unharmed by what you don’t know?”

Logan froze. Remus continued talking.

“I remember Janus told me you really went off at him when he suggested that ignorance is bliss. So, I think you’re just like Eve. I mean, would you give up peace for knowledge?”

Logan plucked another apple. Of course he would. What he wanted more than anything was a life full of books and reading, knowing everything there was to know. Being an academic.

“That isn’t my choice to make. Thomas has chosen his path in life.”

“But what if it was your choice? Then what would you do?”

Logan picked another apple. The basket was close to full.

“I would choose knowledge. I have told you what I would do as a human, I would pursue knowledge above all. I wouldn’t be able to stop my pursuit. I would never be satisfied.”

Remus snapped his fingers, and the apple rain stopped as suddenly as it started.

“Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice. Proverbs 1, verse 20.  You’d never be able to stop learning once you started. Which I think is pretty cool!” Remus looked him dead in the eye, lowering his basket from his head. “You’re a passionate guy, Lo. Show it. I liked hearing you talk about saffron. And if they won’t listen? Then—“

“Then make them listen. Yes. You said it before.” Logan sighed. “I must admit, I don’t think I would be able to. Once they see me as a joke, it’s over. I’m only listened to when I’m being used to counter something that inhibits Virgil and Patton. For example, when you and Janus first appeared. I… I think we have enough apples.”

Remus took his basket, full of apples, and shoved it into the bag. Logan gave him his basket, and watched Remus make it disappear.

“If they won’t listen to you just because they see you act improperly, because they see you smile and feel happy, then they’re a bunch of hypocrites that I want to punt into the fucking sun.”

Logan took a deep breath in. A tiny little voice inside of him screamed to lash out, punch a tree in anger and frustration and pain, but that would be illogical. The apples had been picked. That was all. Now saffron, or honey, or whatever Remus would drag him to next. Then he’d be back in his room, asleep in his chair, then in the morning—

“I honestly don’t know why you care so much,” Remus said.

Logan exhaled.

“They’re all I have.”

Remus set a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, you’re have me now, too. Let’s go get the saffron!”

The earth suddenly fell out from under his feet. Logan couldn’t help the surprised yelp that escaped his mouth, hand flying out to grab Remus’ arm. Then as quickly as it disappeared, the earth came back, and his feet hit the ground. He yanked his hand away from Remus, brushing invisible dust off of the front of his shirt. 

They had appeared in a desert. The sun beat down bright and strong, no clouds in the sky to inhibit it. His feet sank into the sand. A harsh wind kicked up the sand, and it flew around in a flurry like a blizzard. Logan gazed at the horizon. Nothing for miles and miles, just sand, low and level.

“Is this where you find saffron?” Logan asked. Remus crossed his arms.

“You should know better than anyone that flowers can’t grow in a desert! And besides, I just found out saffron came from flowers. So I have to grow them!”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Why bring us to a desert then?”

Remus smiled.

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Remus turned away from him. He raised his hands out, like he was conducting a band. He slowly breathed in. Logan felt the sand under his feet shift, pull together, and shake. Logan’s eyes went wide.

“What’re you—“

Remus turned back to Logan, eyes filled with fire.

“What is the best condition for crocuses, Logan?”

Logan swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“Saffron crocuses bloom in early to mid fall, and prefer sandy loam and lots of sunshine. They prefer soil with good drainage, as well as a pH range of 6.0 to 7.0. Crocus grow best in hardiness zones 5 through 8, not too hot, but not too cold either.”

A cool, fall breeze ruffled Remus’ hair and the fishnet shirt he wore. Logan raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t tell the temperature, but it certainly had gotten cooler.

“What is sandy loam?” Remus asked, knocking Logan’s train of thought off the tracks.

Logan paused for a moment. Remus really wanted to know. But why? The imagination didn’t follow the laws of physics or nature, why would he want to know? He said he liked hearing him talk. But did he?

“Sandy loam is soil that, while containing silt and clay, has primarily sand in it. It is a good soil for gardening because of its draining abilities… Does it matter?”

Remus tilted his head.

“Well, if you were to be making a big ol’ crocus field, you’d care about the soil! Everything about it! So since it matters to you…”

Remus smiled brightly, and grabbed Logan’s arm, tugging him. Logan let himself be pulled, finding himself right in front of Remus, stumbling as the ground shifted under his feet. Bright sand melded together and changed, turning into dark, rich earth. Logan knelt, scooping a little bit into his hand. Sandy loam. 

The soil in his hand moved, like a miniature earthquake. A small, green sprout rose from the dirt, reaching towards the sun. Delicate green leaves grew, and so did a small, purple bud. It opened. Vibrant amethyst petals showed themselves to him, but so did three red stigma. Saffron.

“My god,” Logan said, “that was amazing!”

Remus snorted out a laugh.

“What, you've never seen Roman do something like that?”

Logan shook his head. Roman preferred to run his side of the imagination like an actual human kingdom, planting saplings and waiting patiently for them to grow. Sometimes, he’d see Roman in the wheat fields, harvesting wheat with a large iron scythe, just how a human would do. He let everything take its time, and grow at its own pace. 

“Really?” Remus crowed. “Well then— watch this!”

Remus cackled, and snapped his fingers.

The ground shifted under Logan’s knees, and hundreds of little green sprouts poked out from the dark earth, basking in the gentle sunlight. Glorious purple buds opened to reveal perfect crocuses, each with three sprigs of saffron inside. Logan gazed out to the horizon. The desert had turned to a field of purple, as grand and never ending as a sunset.

Logan’s jaw dropped open in shock. For miles and miles, nothing but crocus…

“Amazing,” Logan whispered, “absolutely amazing.”

With a thud, Remus sat down next to him. He leaned forward, and tore one of the crocuses from the ground, holding it up to Logan. Then, the petals shuddered, as if blown by an invisible wind, merging and shifting until they had formed a purple frog.

“Look,” Remus exclaimed, “it’s a croak-us!”

Logan couldn’t help but snort with laughter, covering his mouth quickly. His eyes went wide. Remus didn’t seem to have any intention of poking fun at him for laughing, but it was better safe than sorry. Though he couldn’t help but think of Remus, sat at the kitchen table in nothing but an apron, saying that he’d beaten him fair and square, and could do so again. Logan lowered his hand from his mouth, chuckling quietly. It was a pretty funny pun.

"Yes," Logan opened his mouth, closed it, then exhaled. "'It's quite ribbit-ing." 

Logan looked up, meeting Remus’ eyes. There was no judgement, no smugness. Remus looked absolutely fucking delighted, a manic glint in his eyes.

"You've toad the line!” Remus cackled. Logan laughed quietly, staring right at the little frog in the flower, trying to think of another frog pun. His brows furrowed in thought. 

"Did you know that in South America, there's a species of big frog with enough poison to kill two thousand men?” Remus said, interrupting Logan’s train of a thought. 

"I don't believe that's true. The golden dart frog grows only up to five millimeters, as opposed to the goliath frog, which can grow up to three-hundred and twenty, and weigh just over four pounds."

“Damn, you know a lot about frogs,” Remus said, “it’s pretty cool!”

“I researched them extensively after Patton turned into one, just in case another problem arose.” 

They stared at each other, much too long to be considered normal. Remus's lips twitched. The silence grated on Logan’s nerves. Had he said something wrong? 

“Would you like to play a word association game?” Logan nervously asked.

"Part two: Electric Boogaloo!" Remus exclaimed, startling the croak-us enough to hop into the fields of its former kin.

He brought his hand down onto Logan's in a low five, purple petals smeared onto his palm. Remus was still grinning, parts of his moustache standing on end, like he'd been shocked. Electric Boogaloo. Remus sat, cross-legged in the new soil so they were face to face. Logan brushed against him, and felt the burn of a spark go out on his leg. Electric Boogaloo, again.

"Vampire,” Remus said.

Logan’s mind jumped to when Virgil had dressed as a vampire for halloween.

"Halloween."

“Black?”

"Orange."

"Bok choy!” Remus chirped.

Logan paused. What led to that connection? Remus shrugged.

"Plant,” Logan said, brushing off his previous confusion.

"Maple.”

"Canada.”

"Pancakes."

"Syrup."

"HONEY!"

Remus snapped, loud as a cracking whip. Logan watched him shake a freshly printed page he clutched in his hand, peering at it intensely. 

“It says on our list that we need honey!”

Logan looked back out at the field of crocuses. Every single one of them had three sprigs of saffron inside, red and beautiful. He could smell it, the aroma beautiful and heavy. 

“We have to harvest the saffron first, for the paella. How much will we need for the recipe, Remus?”

Remus sighed.

“Harvesting saffron ourselves sounds like a big waste of time. Don’t you think?”

Logan brushed his fingers on the warm, rich soil. He imagined Remus and him in the field of saffron, carefully plucking saffron from the flowers, putting the delicate threads in jars to be dried later. Then he could ask all the questions in the world about the soil, the saffron. He could spend hours talking to Remus about everything he wanted to. He wanted to say so much. And yet his mouth wouldn’t obey him. Remus wouldn’t tell him to shut up, so what was stopping him? Nothing was stopping him.

“Yes,” Logan said, “it would take up a good deal of time. But honey won’t take that long, will it?”

“I don’t even need honey,” Remus admitted, “I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you without any of the others popping in or having to wait until like five am. You’re the functional one, you gotta get some sleep.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. Oh. Remus’ words slowly went through his head. His heart did a backflip— even though that certainly was anatomically impossible— and his lungs stopped taking in air.

“Yeah,” Logan said, voice quiet, “I do. I mean— uh. Spending time with you is much better than laying unconscious for eight hours.”

“As if you get eight hours of sleep,” Remus said, a bright smile plastered on his face.

“So. We don’t need honey?”

“We still need mussels.”

“Mussels, yeah,” Logan said, breathless, standing up, “lead the way.”

“What about the saffron?” Remus said, raising an eyebrow. He stood.

“...Well. We can always come back for that some other time.”

Remus nodded, a bright smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, some other time. Well then. Off we go!”

Remus grabbed Logan’s arm, and the world fell away from them. Logan closed his eyes. 

Waves crashed gently. He could hear them, and feel a cold sea breeze blow on his skin, ruffling his hair. He slowly opened his eyes. Apparently, night had fallen while his eyes were shut, and moonlight bathed everything in a pearly pale light. The air smelled like salt. Both of his feet were solidly on a wooden dock. Remus’ hand still felt warm on his arm.

“How long did that take?” Logan asked. The sun had still been up when they left.

“It’s always night here,” Remus explained, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “I like it better that way. Look at the beach and you’ll see why.”

Logan turned his head. The moon shone gently on the black sand beach, but more impressive were the waves— each foaming, rushing wave carried with it an ethereal teal glow, like all the stars in the sky were gently ebbing with every wave. Logan stared at the water, eyes wide. 

“The waves glow like that because of an algal bloom, right? And when the water moves it causes the algae to glow. It is absolutely wonderful, Remus.”

Remus smiled, running his hand through his hair, almost as if he was shy.

“Thanks, this place is one of the first places I’ve ever made, and the first one I felt satisfied with. The rest of this place I like to keep constantly changing, but not here.”

Remus walked to the end of the dock. He calmly set his bag down, then yanked off his fishnet top, holding it in his hand. Logan watched his hands undo the button of his shorts, then watched Remus toss his shorts onto the dock, revealing the bright green speedo he wore, leaving nothing up to the imagination. Remus raised his arms out like Christ on the cross, looking up at the full moon. Then he tilted backwards, gracefully falling off the dock, and landing in the water with a loud splash.

Logan slowly walked to the end of the dock. He knelt, knees pressed against wet wood. Even through the glowing waves and the dark water he could see Remus’ back, his legs, pale skin disappearing quickly underwater. 

Logan’s hands clasped the indigo fabric of his tie. Then they drifted down. He sat down, cross legged, staring down at the water. Slowly, he took one shoe off, setting it carefully behind him. Then the other. He pulled off his socks and placed them in his shoes. Then his pants, leaving him in boxers, his shirt, and his tie. He took off his glasses.

His hands clasped his tie again. He gazed at the water, dark as the night around him except for the beautiful waves and the occasional glimpse of Remus’ skin. Then he raised his head, staring out into the distance. He could see for miles. Empty, dark ocean, with no land in sight. Slowly, he loosened the knot. His hands shook. 

Remus wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care if he took off his tie. He wouldn’t see him as less. He would see him as Logic, as Logan. Nothing less. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of cold, salty air. pulled off his tie, setting it with the rest of his clothing. Before he could lose his nerve he yanked his shirt off, threw it haphazardly in the pile of clothing, and ran to the end of the dock. He jumped. Time seemed to slow as he rushed through the air, flying to the water—

He landed with a loud, graceless splash. The water around him lit up like fireworks. Surprisingly, the water felt warm compared to the bite of the wind. Logan couldn’t tell where Remus was, he just knew he was underwater with him now. Logan kicked and paddled until he reached the surface, gasping for breath. A sharp laugh escaped him. His heart pounded in his chest— he could feel it beating, even though he knew he didn’t need one to function. The waves rushed over him, bright as all the stars. 

Logan treaded water in place, then let himself tilt back, until he floated on his back. Waves gently rocked him, and he let them. What had he been so scared of? He laughed again, much quieter, listening to the waves rush to shore. 

Next to him, he heard Remus surface, taking a deep breath.

“You good?” Remus asked. Logan turned his head a little, looking at Remus. His hair was soaked, plastered to his forehead.

“Perfectly fine,” Logan responded, “and you?”

Remus didn’t answer, just smiled and sunk into the water. The wind blew cold over his skin, sending a shudder up his spine. Remus had to be swimming under him, collecting the mussels he’d use for the paella. Logan couldn’t help but wait for the time they’d be able to spend in the kitchen, knees bumping, or the time they’d spend collecting saffron, the sun shining on violet flowers in a golden gleam. 

Logan breathed out slowly. There was something with Remus that made all his thoughts become portraits. Cohesive, yes, but coated in a loveliness that never used to be there. It might have to do with the imagination. It might not. 

The waves beneath him swelled, then gently ebbed out. Remus surfaced again, treading water as easily as breathing. He’d changed his fishnet top into a net, which was full of mussels and what looked like clams, maybe? Logan couldn’t tell. 

Remus gingerly grabbed Logan’s arm. The waves under them swelled. 

“Let’s go back up onto the dock,” Remus whispered.

Logan nodded. Within the blink of the eye, they both appeared on the dock, both of them soaking wet. Remus shook his head like a dog, water flying everywhere. Logan raised his hand to keep the water from hitting him, even though he was already absolutely soaked. Remus set the bag of shellfish on the dock with a clatter. 

He calmly took one out of the net, and Logan realized they were oysters, not clams. Remus grabbed his bag, unzipping one of the pockets and pulling out a knife. He held the oyster carefully, curved side flat against his palm, and wiggled his knife into the hinge between the shells. Remus’ hands were surprisingly steady, even as the knife slipped between the shells and the oyster popped open. He scraped the knife against the inside of the shell, freeing up the meat, then knocked the oyster back like a shot.

Silently, he offered Logan the knife. Their fingers brushed as Logan took the hilt of the knife, grabbing an oyster from the net. He mimicked Remus’ movements, trying to slip the knife between the two shells. Remus chuckled, and grabbed the hand that held the knife. 

“You have to press harder,” he said, “you can’t finesse your way into the shell, you have to put some oomf behind it. If you don’t, it’ll never ever open up.”

Logan swallowed. He felt oddly lightheaded as Remus guided the knife between the shells of the oyster, helping him push the knife into the space between the shell, easing the hinges apart with the flat of the blade. The shell slipped into the cup of his fingers, just so, supported by the weight of Remus's hands over his, thumb pushing against his, twisting the hinge open with a pop.

"See?" Remus was grinning, that ever-present expression of glee, and Logan tore his eyes from it to the movement of hands again, guiding the knife under the oyster to lift the flat shell off. 

"These would be good for the garden," Logan blurted out. Remus looked up, just as attentive as he'd always been, and the words caught in his throat for a second. "For- for the soil, oyster shells, when ground into powder, have been shown to improve soil pH and nutrient status, strengthening cell walls due to an increase in calcium, overall resulting in healthier produce.”

Remus tilted his head. Logan’s face flushed.

“...I know you employ an extraordinary method of growing and cultivating, and therefore have no need for this knowledge, but tossing them aside or simply letting them disappear seemed.. unnecessary."

"I think you need to stop worrying about what I need to know, and start asking what else I'd want to hear,” Remus said with a grin, “But it is flattering that you think it's extraordinary. Now why don’t you try the oyster?”

Logan stared at the meat of the oyster.

“I just… drink it?”

“Like a shot, yeah.”

Logan slowly brought the oyster to his mouth. Slowly, he tilted his head back, opening his mouth.

The taste made his eyes go wide. The meat of the oyster was plump against his tongue, but it tasted like coppery brine. He swallowed it without chewing, since he hadn’t noticed Remus’ jaw moving. The coppery taste lingered on his tongue. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of fresh, ocean air.

“Why don’t you stay here?” Remus suddenly asked. Logan’s eyes shot wide open. He had another oyster in his hands, wriggling his knife between the shells.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Remus looked down at the oyster, face surprisingly blank and unreadable.

“You spend all day in your room except for when you come out and cook with me. I have a feeling that I almost wasn’t able to get you out of your room today. So why don’t you just stay here? I can make you a castle or a cottage for you to study in, and you won’t have to worry about the others bothering you. And you’ll be able to come here whenever you want. So what do you say. Will you stay?”

Logan stared down at his hands. He could. He could say yes, and watch Remus make him a place to stay, a place that was truly his. No worries of anyone walking in and seeing him disheveled, just himself and Remus.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say yes. I’m needed with the rest of the sides, and Virgil may see my leaving as betrayal, or a sign of untrustworthiness. I need to keep them on my side. I need them to trust me, to listen to me.”

Remus still was fixated on the oyster. The knife slipped between the two shells, and it popped open. Remus’ brows rose.

“I still think you’d enjoy it here more than you would crammed in your little room all the time. And I don’t know how to tell you in a way that’ll make you listen, but they need you more than you think they do. You are all of Thomas’ cleverness and wit. Where would he be without you? Creativity is nothing without knowledge— whether its working with or against knowledge.”

Logan shook his head. Remus slowly reached for Logan’s hand. Logan let him take it, pull his fingers open, and press something into his palm. It felt like a pebble. Logan felt his hands ball into fists.

“Roman seems to mostly work against me, but at least Thomas heeds his words. I really can’t stay here. I…. I should honestly go. It’s late.”

Logan awkwardly stood, fists still clenched. Remus looked up at him with wide eyes, brows furrowed.

“Are you sure?”

Logan opened his mouth, but no words came out. A part of him still wanted to stay, to sit with Remus at the dock and watch the glowing waves, to eat oysters with him. He closed his mouth and nodded. Remus sighed.

“Alright. I’ll teleport you and your clothes back to your room. Just… you’re welcome back whenever you want. Don’t be a stranger, Logan.”

Logan smiled. He wanted to say something, but the next thing he knew the world vanished around him. Then it reappeared, and he saw the door to his room. There was a bowl of spaghetti in front of it. It had long grown cold, but Logan picked it up anyways, and stepped into his room.

He set the bowl of spaghetti on his desk, and haphazardly tossed his clothes on the floor. He felt soaked to the bone, and started to shiver a little, even though he knew he couldn’t feel cold, couldn’t feel pain, couldn’t feel the cocktail of conflicting emotions inside of him. With a sigh, he sat in his office chair. His hands, still curled into fists, shook slightly. What had Remus given him? Slowly, he relaxed his fingers. 

Resting in his palm was a round, black pearl. 

Logan stared at the black pearl in his palm. A million different thoughts rushed through his head, most of them strange and illogical. He could go back to the pier and watch the luminescent waves, or help Remus grind the oyster shells down into fertilizer. And they would eat oysters together until they had enough pearls to make a necklace, a necklace he’d wear wherever he went.

Then what? 

Then Logan would wear the necklace, and someone would ask where he got it from.

This was for the best for Thomas’ stability. It had to be.

Logan let his head flop against the headrest of his office chair, and shut his eyes, hoping sleep would take him.

He never let go of the pearl.

[thisissirius]

ficmas: day three so @hoechlder continues to be patient with the other fic she requested, but i can at least deliver this one! a (traumatic) meet cute which ends up being soft as fuck. i love you so much, n, and hope we can see each other soon. i’m lucky to know you and miss you terribly <3

(please remember that though i work in a hospital, my only interactions with nurses are when i’m on a ward begging for a drug transfer, or listenng to them cry on the phone about the scripts they need so.... i gues what i’m saying is I HAVE NO IDEA WHETHER THIS IS ACCURATE BUT ROLL WITH IT)

no strings attached eddie/buck, nurse!eddie and firefighter!buck

“Why am I seeing you again?”

Buck looks up and grins. “Hey.”

Folding his (excellent) arms over his (not insignificant) chest, Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Hey?” Though he’s aiming for imposing, it doesn’t work on Buck anymore. The softness is there, because Buck knows where to look; in his eyes, the curve of his smile, the slight roll of his eyes. “You know when you arrive, I’m just getting paged at this point, right?”

Aiming for a sheepish smile because yeah, that’s probably accurate, Buck just shrugs. “What can I say? I keep asking for a date and you keep saying no.”

Eddie snorts, but at least comes to stand by the side of the bed, checking out Buck’s—well, whatever the fuck he does. Buck spends most of the time checking him out, honestly, and he’s shameless about it. “No.”

“What?” Buck affects a look of innocence. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You don’t have to,” Eddie chastises, but he’s smiling. With a sigh, he gives Buck’s chart the once over. “What was it this time?”

“Okay, so don’t get mad—” 

“—that is not the best way to start—”

“—but there was this woman who had a man through her windscreen and I cut my arm on—”

“—and I get it, but you understand what being on blood thinners means, don’t you, Buckley? You are—”

“—the glass and it’s not like I was gonna let him hang out of a windscreen, Eddie—”     

“—going to be the death of me, I fucking swear—”        

“—I’m sorry,” Buck finishes. 

Eddie’s expression is a mixture of exasperation, affection, and something that looks like distress.

Something settles low in Buck’s stomach. “I don’t mean to keep ending up here.”

Wiping a hand over his face, Eddie nods. He tries for a smile, but misses the mark. “I know.”

Buck wants to reach for him, but he remembers the last time he was here, Eddie’s voice breaking on the words, “I can’t,” and “Christopher,” and, “I want to, but I just—can’t.”

They’re words that haven’t stopped running through Buck’s mind.  

____

The first time they meet, Buck’s just had thirty tonnes of ladder truck crushing his leg.

He’s high for most of the time he’s in the hospital, but he finds out later, after Carla and Maddie have gone home and he’s lonely, that his nurse is fit as fuck. Even better, he later discovers that Eddie is a father. DILF material for his spank bank.

Okay, crass, because Buck’s trying to be a better person, but he’s got eyes, okay? Eddie’s a snack. 

“Guess we’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other,” are the words Eddie chooses to open with. 

Unfortunately for him, he’s right. 

Technically, the actual first time they meet, according to Eddie, is after Buck ends up with an impromptu tracheotomy on Valentine’s Day. 

“Choking on a fucking breadstick,” Eddie mutters, while Buck’s wondering how he missed Eddie being his nurse. When he says as much, Eddie snorts. “Too busy making doe eyes at your date.”

Buck doesn’t think he’s imagining the snark in the tone, or the curl of Eddie’s lip into a sneer. “She did save my life.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie mutters. 

Thankfully, Buck distracts him by making another quip about the ladder truck, and settles back into the pillows while Eddie gives him an earful about how it’s no joke, and he could have lost his leg, and I swear to god, Buckley, if you come in here within the next three months, I will throw you out of the window.

“Wouldn’t that mean I end up back in here within three months anyway?”

Thankfully, it’s a hospital, so Eddie isn’t actually able to hit him. 

______

“You know,” Eddie says conversationally, leaning against the doorjamb. “You’re going to pay my mortgage at this rate.”

Buck snorts, still a little doped up, but he manages a tight smile. 

A brief flicker over Eddie’s expression and he steps into the room. “Blood clots, huh?”

The image is burned into Buck’s brain; the faces of his friends and family as he threw up blood. “Collapsed at a surprise party.”

Eddie doesn’t say what Buck can see he wants to; that Buck’s pushing it, that getting back so soon is stupid, and, and, and.

“I just want my job back,” Buck whispers. 

“I know,” Eddie says softly. Buck watches his face carefully, and Eddie’s surprisingly open. Buck’s not stupid enough to think he knows all of Eddie—though he takes everything he is into the job, he doubts everyone does that—but he’s not used to seeing Eddie look, well, like he is. “You went through hell, Buck,” he says. “I can’t pretend to understand—”

Except he probably can. Shot in Afghanistan, medal, PTSD, things Buck only understands now because he researched. 

“—but if you don’t wanna keep ending up back here, or losing your leg, take your fucking time, okay?”

Buck can’t stop the words, “what else do I have,” from falling between them.

______

So it turns out Buck’s got this;

Eddie’s kid in a fucking tsunami. 

“CHRISTOPHER.”

Panic, fucking rage, despair. 

“CHRISTOPHER.

Darkness. 

“Hey,” someone says. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“Christopher,” Buck manages, jerks awake to find himself in hospital again, Eddie’s gonna be pissed, but then Buck remembers why Eddie’s gonna be pissed for a whole different reason. The keening sound he lets out is almost a wail. There are hands on his face, a familiar voice in his ear. “Eddie.”

“I’m here,” and oh, oh he is. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck sobs. 

“No,” Eddie says, and he’s dressed in civvies and not his uniform but he’s in the makeshift hospital and— “Chris is safe, Buck.”

“You found him?”

Relief, the pressure of relief. 

“Yeah,” Eddie promises. “Yeah, we did.”

______

Then;

“What are you doing here?” Eddie’s at the nurses’ station, valiantly ignoring the whispering nurses behind him. 

Buck grins. “I don’t actually need help this time.”

“Idiot,” Eddie mutters, and steers Buck away from the desk. “I’m working.”

It’s something Eddie takes seriously, but Buck can’t stop thoughts running through his head. Since the tsunami, since Eddie let Buck look after Chris again and since, well, since Buck’s been back at work, it’s all he can think about; Eddie, wanting him. 

“Do you maybe,” Buck says, licks at his bottom lip, “wanna go for a drink sometime?”

_________

Now this;

“If you were there to watch over me,” Buck hedges. He knows he shouldn’t, it’s not fair, when they both want it but Eddie won’t let himself take. He can’t stop himself. 

Eddie watches him carefully. “Buck—”

“I know,” Buck says, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a soft touch against his face, and Buck’s eyes snap open. Eddie’s fingers are on his cheek, apprehension warring with want on Eddie’s face. “Don’t be.”

“Eddie,” Buck pleads, “don’t do this if—”

“The first time they wheeled you in here,” Eddie says, “I knew you’d change everything.”

“Sorry,” Buck says, because that’s apparently what he keeps having to say to everyone.

“No,” Eddie presses. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I have.”

Hope blossoms in Buck’s chest.

Carefully, Eddie pulls away, but he’s smiling, soft and wonderful. “Maybe, if you can stay out of the hospital for a day, we could get a drink.”

Grinning, Buck shrugs one arm. “Eh, I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll say yes,” Eddie says, crossing the room and rapping his knuckles against the door frame. “I have it on good authority you think I’m a DILF.”

Fucking Hen. 

Eddie’s laugh echoes down the hall and Buck throws an arm over his eyes, doesn’t stop smiling even when his face starts to hurt.   

[thexanwillshine]

internal travesties | levihan

pairing: levi x hange ; minor: eren x mikasa 

genre: romance/ fluff / slight angst

warnings: contains spoilers for chapters 105, 115. and 132

chapters: 1. 2. 3 (final).  

words: 4,648

summary: 

Levi felt his eye twitch in annoyance. She didn't look particularly special, but she entered (no, infiltrated) his cafe with bright eyes and all smiles, making him feel things that he never even felt before. Which was, in his opinion, completely unacceptable. Levi Ackerman hated feeling out of control. 

[Reincarnation! AU] [Levihan] [Minor Eremika]

crosspostings: AO3. 

note: i hope you guys enjoy ehehe <3 thank u for reading and i hope to see u all again very soon.

His memories feel like a travesty. 

Ever since he was young, Levi couldn’t help but feel as if there was something missing in his life. 

His brushes with insomnia gave him headaches no painkiller could cure. It was on those days that Levi’s mind went wild and his thoughts plagued him, ridding him of the sweet drug called sleep. Lonely nights like that made the man feel tired, as his brain was constantly exhausting itself in its search for answers he didn’t even know the questions to. 

On this particular cold night, he gives in to need, and chooses to contemplate his life. 

Levi could say that he had a fairly normal childhood. Even with his sweet darling of a mother, an invisible father, and his gloomy, sort-of sister, it had been rather uneventful. Technically, Mikasa was his cousin, but since they had grown up together she might as well have been his younger sister. Mikasa’s mother (his aunt) had asked if Mikasa could stay with his family when she turned ten so that the young girl could get a good school in the city. His mother, saint that she was, obviously agreed. 

He could remember a time when the young girl would always drag him to supervise her and her friends (all of whom were taller than Levi now, much to his chagrin) to pacify the concerns of Levi’s mother. As Mikasa matured, the young girl stopped making him constantly accompany her, since his mother trusted Mikasa enough to take care of herself at this point. In fact, Levi thought she would probably go out of her way just to get him not to come. Except when he would drive her. That darned girl thinks that he’s her own personal chauffeur.

While the two had their grievances, they maintained an understanding between them. Levi inherited his mother’s cafe called The Underground, and Mikasa went on to continue her parents’ legacy in the field of biology, choosing to major in botany like her mother. Sometimes, whenever Mikasa didn’t have midterms or finals or any exam that could potentially ruin her future, he would allow her to help out in the cafe once in a while. That way, she could technically say that she had experience working. It also gave Levi a good excuse to have extra hands. For Mikasa, it was a good way to earn money even though she didn’t really need to; Levi would give her cash whenever she would ask. 

Contrary to popular belief, Levi did have friends. There was Eld, the assistant manager he knew he could rely on because of his leadership skills. Oruo, who worked better as a cashier because of his case of Constant Threat of Tongue-Biting Which Could Lead To Bleeding . As much as possible, Levi wanted to keep him away from food. Gunther, who’s speed in the kitchen was god-tier. Then there was Petra, a young, budding barista whose skills were definitely commendable. 

Granted, all his friends were people who worked for him in the restaurant. There were several kids who worked for him part-time but they were more his responsibility rather than friends. Most of them were Mikasa’s friends, so at least there was someone accountable for them. Although, he had to admit they were very reliable.  

There’s also that one lawyer who had taken it upon himself to consistently come every morning to the cafe. He said his name was Erwin, and Levi would be lying if he told himself he wasn’t weirded out by the man. The blonde had stared him down on several occasions, as if waiting for him to say something. Once, when Levi couldn’t take it anymore, he asked him directly. 

“Any particular reason why you’re always staring openly at me?” Levi had asked rudely, scrunching his eyebrows at the man in confusion. 

Erwin shook his head in response before introducing himself, even handing the coffee owner a business card. Levi stared at the business card, wondering why in the world he would need a lawyer (god forbid he ever needs one, he’d rather not go to court over anything, really). Erwin Smith, the card had read. “You’ll see me here often since my father works close by.” 

After that, Erwin had frequented the cafe and even made friends with his employees. Petra says he tips very generously. Oruo thinks Erwin can do better. Levi doesn’t necessarily give a flying fuck, but he can’t help but feel as if he’d met or at least seen Erwin somewhere before. 

Levi goes on with his somewhat boring life. Once in a while, whenever he was feeling particularly sociable, he would agree to a cup of tea with Erwin and engage in random conversations about his job and his life. The man was not a pain to talk to. In fact, the entire time they talked, Levi was nagged by a certain familiarity he couldn’t quite place. He felt as if he knew the blond on a much deeper level than he was aware of. He shrugs it off. 

Sometimes, Levi would accompany his friends for drinks (but would never drink any, he hated the taste of alcohol with a passion). Apart from his sudden bouts of social energy,  the man thought his life to be ritualistic, monotone, and organized. He wasn’t complaining, of course; this is exactly what Levi wanted. Sometimes, however, whenever he would be driving home alone with the silence nagging his ears . . . Levi would feel an emptiness emerging from the back of his mind, clouding his thoughts until dawn.

His mind flew back to Erwin as he remembered the lawyer asking him a question in passing on a particularly slow work day. He had been clearing the table beside the blond when Erwin spoke. “Don’t you ever feel as if all your life, you’ve been waiting for something to happen? Like all these good things come to you but nothing really ever feels enough?”

Levi had glared at him, because yes , he definitely has . That every waking moment of his life he could never feel truly satisfied . He chose to maintain his silence. 

To Erwin’s credit, he dropped the subject and smiled softly, as if he could sense Levi’s discomfort. “Sorry,” Erwin said, chuckling. The man waved a wad of papers in his hand. “This case has been particularly mind-provoking, so I’ve been randomly spouting out philosophical questions to anyone who would be willing to listen.” 

“Good luck,” Levi replied shortly, taking the tray of empty cups in his hands and walking towards the staff room. 

Many a time, Levi had wondered how much of him was an open book. He liked to think that he was a pretty closed-off, ambiguous kind of guy. But Erwin had pretty much hit the mark—Levi had indeed settled, but he wasn’t sure if he was satisfied. 

Unfortunately, Erwin wasn’t the only blond who spouted weird questions out of the blue.

Levi had known Armin Arlert since he was a young boy. He remembers glaring at bullies who would tease and mock the poor child, before taking Mikasa and her rowdy group of troublemakers to another playground. Levi knew Mikasa was a reserved child, but it seemed as if her maternal instincts kicked in whenever she could sense Armin was in danger. While the young girl’s other friends were strong enough to defend themselves from the bullies whenever they were the target, Mikasa had long established that people shouldn’t even dare cross her (or her even scarier big “brother”). 

When Armin turned fifteen, his gait changed. Gone was the boy who would whimper as quiet as possible whenever he felt threatened. He still maintained his love for reading, but Armin suddenly adopted a mature mindset that seemed as if he possessed knowledge well-beyond his years. For a time, Mikasa would express her worry for the teenager in her and Levi’s rare conversations. Apparently, Armin had cried and launched himself on both Mikasa and Eren, holding them close to him as if the three of them had spent years apart from each other . . . when in fact, it was the middle of the day. 

Levi was no stranger to Armin’s inquisitive questions about topics the dark-haired man knew nothing of (and didn’t bother to care about). Hence, he thought that the young blond’s strange inquiries couldn’t get any stranger. 

Obviously, Levi was wrong. 

“Levi, do you ever feel as if this life was a second chance? Like, as if right now, you’re you, but not really. Like, there was once a past you, who was different from you now, but the you now is still you. So reincarnation, basically. Or maybe we’re in a different dimension and there are others out there who’re living a different life from us. That I’m just one Armin out of multiple Armins in the universe.” Armin’s questions and speculations came in rapid-fire as he leaned on the counter. “What do you think?”

“I think you need to stop reading science fiction ‘cos it messes with your brain,” Levi responded as he finished counting the coins in the cash register. “Unlike you, I don’t bother with the intricacies of life, brat.” Armin’s inquisitive expression fell into one of dismay as he frowned. 

Levi sighed inwardly as he closed the cash register. “I think the idea of reincarnation makes more sense compared to multiple universes though.”

Armin immediately brightened up when he looked at Levi, before diverting his gaze at Mikasa in what seemed like triumph. “I told you so!” he chirped gleefully. Thanks Levi.” 

Mikasa didn’t reply, but her scalding glare told Levi everything she wanted to say:  ‘Don’t encourage him!’ Levi rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen, shutting out Eren’s excited questions (“Do you really think we had past lives? Do you think I was cool? Oh my god, what if I was a knight! Or a dinosaur? Or a giant hu—”) effectively by closing the door. 

Levi did give Armin’s questions some thought. There were indeed days wherein he felt out of place in his own skin, like he was living a life meant for someone else. There were also days when he would feel as if he was grasping at threads, trying to figure out what in his life wasn’t in place. However, the concept of reincarnation was something that seemed implausible to him especially because he didn’t believe in the divine. 

The dark-haired man closed his eyes, placing his arm on his forehead as he shifted underneath the  covers. The clock read 15:06, which meant that he had already been awake for a grand total of 23 hours. At four in the morning, he would need to take over the night shift, which Eld was currently in charge of. 

Once again, he is faced with a dilemma: (1) try to get some sleep so that he can get a bit of rest and risk giving Eld overtime, or (2) suck it up and accept the fact that this day was going to be another one of his 48-hour days.

The answer was obvious. Levi was not the type of person to let others suffer for his mistakes. So he grit his teeth, pushed himself out of bed, and headed to his bathroom to take a hot shower.

He really needs to get some rest. 

When Levi exited the bathroom thirty minutes later, dressed and ready for work, someone was knocking on his door. Levi scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. It was nearly four in the morning. With his mother in Sina for a conference and Mikasa due to wake at six in the morning, there should be no one in the house to bother him at the ungodly hour. 

He opened the door and was proven wrong when his sight was greeted by Mikasa. She had puffy eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and shivering lips. The poor girl held her black scarf close to herself as if it would help ease whatever pain she was feeling. Levi blinked at the sight, unsure of what to say. He tried anyway. 

“What’s wrong, brat? Mosquito get stuck in your ear again?” Mikasa shook her head . Levi sighed as he noted that she didn’t give him her traditional glare. “Need to talk about it?” 

She opened her mouth and closed it again in response. She does this thrice before Levi interrupts her. 

“ Oi, fishface, is it a yes or a no?” 

Mikasa shook her head a second time. 

“Well, brat, how do you expect me to help you?” Levi pushed his door open and let his cousin in. Mikasa entered clumsily (different from her usual composed self, he noted) and sat at the edge of his bed. 

Levi glanced at his glowing clock before choosing to text Eld. He’s going to be late and Eld would have to work overtime. Levi wasn’t entirely sure if he’d make it to the cafe by four (even though it was just a five minute drive) given the status of his crying sister. 

Mikasa rarely cried, and even if she did, she wouldn’t go to him of all people. She’d most likely sneak out to go visit Eren or Armin, which is nothing the young girl hadn’t done before. So, Levi decided, just for today, he would ask Eld for this one favor in order to offer his own personal brand of comfort to his cousin and exist with her as she lamented (not like he can say much to comfort her, anyway). 

He successfully got a reply from Eld, who had agreed to cover the overtime. The assistant manager relayed a bit of concern from Petra, who mentioned that it was very “unlike boss” to show up to work late. Levi was about to send a message informing the two of his personal matters when Mikasa spoke up. 

“You don’t . . . remember anything, do you Captain?” 

“Hah?” Levi asked, half his focus on his phone as he tapped the send button. “Remember what?” 

Mikasa glared at the floor as if begging it to swallow her whole. She wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt, and buried half of her face behind the dark scarf she was sporting. Offhandedly, Levi wondered when was the last time she washed that thing. He should probably remind Mikasa after her breakdown. 

“Armin wasn’t lying, you know.”

Confused as ever, he raised an eyebrow. Is she going through a phase? Levi wondered, his mouth set in a grim line. “About what?”

She spoke to the floor and not really at him. “About the past. The past lives, I mean. Reincarnation, and all that.” 

If Levi had been confused before, he was even more confused now. 

“I can’t talk to you about it,” Mikasa continued, holding her arms closer to her. “No matter how much I try, the words don’t—no, won’t come out.” She let out a sigh, before looking up at Levi, who was already feeling kind of guilty as he wasn’t able to give her much help. 

“Then don’t force yourself to talk if it’s hard for you to, you can just go over it next time,” Levi offered, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing at the clock. I really am bad at this , he thought. 

 Mikasa shook her head for the third time that night. “It’s much harder than you think.” She paused and straightened up, inhaling sharply through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. “It seems it doesn’t work like that. I need to talk to Armin. Can you drive me?”

Levi had no idea what in the world it was and why it doesn’t work like that . Given the complexity of the situation—mostly due to the fact that he was complete shit at giving her help, advice, or anything she needed emotionally, really—he made no attempts to complain about her request to chauffeur her. 

The young girl asked him nicely after all . Maybe she really wasn’t feeling well. 

He nodded. “Don’t you want to get dressed first? You look like a mess.” He scrunched his nose at her scarf, “Also, when’s the last time you washed that thing? That might be really dir—” 

Levi didn’t get to finish the rest of his sentence because Mikasa had thrown the scarf straight up to his face. His eye twitched in annoyance as he plucked the scarf out of his head. He shoved it in Mikasa’s hands. She was lucky the scarf didn’t smell bad, otherwise he would’ve definitely confiscated it and thrown it in the washing machine. “Damn it, brat, learn how to wash your clothes. I’m telling mom.” 

“Blabbermouth, squealer, mama’s boy, ” Mikasa retorted, standing up. 

Levi rolled his eyes before grabbing his keys from his bedside table and turning off his lamp. Mikasa had already stepped outside, her black scarf wrapped around her neck. Levi closed his door when he exited, moving in step with the younger woman. She was already calling Armin, and Levi knew that the blond would be ready to accept company when he heard Armin’s sleepy voice respond from the other line. Levi didn’t bother listening, and instead chose to open the car door and wait inside the vehicle (a black four-seater that his invisible father had left him) as Mikasa conversed with Armin. 

She entered after about ten minutes, slamming the car door shut. Levi pulled out of their driveway smoothly. 

“Drop by the cafe if you and Armin need to eat,” Levi said shortly as Mikasa put on her seatbelt. 

“Is it on the house?” 

“Of course, I’ll dock it from your pay.”

“Some definition of ‘on the house'   you have.” 

The ride takes about twenty minutes without traffic, since Armin lived a bit further away. The two Ackermans sat without conversing, both of them listening to the soft sound of music from the radio. 

It’s Levi who broke the silence. “Oi, brat, this isn’t necessarily my business, but shouldn’t you also be calling your other snot-nosed friend?”

The reply came quicker than he had anticipated. “No.” 

She doesn’t elaborate, so Levi left it at that. Perhaps, he thought, they fought, and that's why the dark-haired woman was acting weird. Either way, he knew it was none of his business. 

They arrive at Armin’s house at about five minutes ‘till five in the morning. Mikasa opened the door, muttering a sincere “thank you” as she left. She closed the door behind her softly, enough to lock it but not loud enough to wake the neighbors. Mikasa gave her older cousin a brief wave and turned around swiftly to Armin’s doorstep before he could even nod in acknowledgement. 

At least he wasn’t the only Ackerman who was bad at showing emotions. 

Armin waves enthusiastically from the doorway, and Levi (unenthusiastically) raises his hand in reply. He then pulled back from the driveway and headed to his cafe. 

The drive towards The Underground  is short and uneventful. He had already texted Eld in advance that he would be arriving. He brought his car into the parking lot and headed to his designated parking spot, beside the PWD parking near the entrance. To his surprise, there was a car already in his spot. It was a blue pick-up truck that looked worse for wear. 

Levi’s eye twitched in mild annoyance. 

He knew he couldn’t do anything about it since there was no sign that that specific spot was for him (he really, really should do that). Since dawn was normally for students cramming their papers, all of whom didn’t need cars since the university was just walking distance from the cafe, Levi had assumed he wouldn’t need the sign anymore. Clearly, he was wrong. 

Levi sighed before deciding to park two spots beside the pick-up truck. 

Upon entering the cafe, he noticed that there were only about three customers. One was a regular: a blonde girl whose drinks were surrounded by a pile of papers. Her highlighting was careless and panicky. Beside her sat an auburn-haired girl, who was the second customer. Compared to the blonde, she was already lost in sleep.  

The third customer was someone he never really encountered in his shop before. From where he entered, Levi could see that she was wearing a thick pair of glasses, and that her hands were shoved in a tan coat. She was incredibly tall, and sported dark boots and leggings. The woman was currently standing in front of the counter, her eyes focused on the menu splayed out on the bright screens above the coffee machines. 

Levi passed her without giving it much thought, swiftly entering the staff room. Eld grinned at him when he entered, removing his apron and placing it on the rack. “Good morning boss,” he greeted, as Levi grabbed his own apron and swung it over his head. 

“There’s a customer outside,” Levi said nonchalantly. 

Eld nodded in recognition. “Yeah, she comes here every three a.m. on the dot. Leaves before you arrive, so I understand why you’re not familiar with her. Don’t worry though, she looks like she’s thinking now, but she’s going to order the same thing. Make sure to get her a large, sweet cream cold brew nitro.” 

Levi nodded as Eld checked out, bidding him goodbye. Levi dumped his car keys in his locker before he heard the bell ring from outside. That tall girl was probably ready to order her americano. 

He exited the door, standing in front of her and checking to see if Eld properly set the cashier for his shift. Levi nodded to himself in approval, as Eld had done his job spectacularly (as always). In about an hour, Jean Kirchstein and Marco Bott would be taking over the cashier while he cleaned the store. He barely glanced at the customer as he mechanically tapped his fingers rhythmically on the register, letting out the practiced “May I take your order?” 

“Good morning! Could I please have a large sweet cream cold brew nitro? To-go, please!” 

Something about her voice made Levi’s blood run cold. He raised his head to look at her. She was smiling at him, her eyes shining with excitement. Her bangs are parted in the middle of her forehead and the rest of her hair is tied in a lazy half-bun. By the greasy state of her auburn hair, it looked like she hadn’t bothered bathing. 

For a reason Levi couldn’t explain (he would later argue that it was because he was so surprised to see that someone could live their life while having hair so dirty ), his body grew stiff as he stared at her, transfixed. 

The girl tilted her head to the side in confusion. “Is something wrong?” she asked, looking at him. “Is my order not available? That’s okay, you know, I can just order something else—” 

Levi interrupted her tirade as he regained control over his body once again, swallowing the odd feeling gnawing at his gut. “Name?” he managed to choke out, trying his best to appear calm. For some strange reason, his heart decided that now was the time for palpitations. 

“Oh!” the girl said in surprise, “right, I haven’t seen you here at this hour before! Just put in Hange!”

His hands moved automatically to input her order. There really is something so . . . familiar about her, but Levi just couldn’t seem to put his finger on it. It reminded him of when he had first met Erwin. He felt like he had seen her from a dream long forgotten in the recesses of his mind, begging to be released and remembered. 

There’s just one problem: he knows he’s never seen this girl in his life before. After all, someone who never washed their hair would make a very distinct impression on him. 

“That’ll be four dollars,” Levi said through grit teeth, annoyed at himself for failing to maintain his own composure. Hange nodded fervently as she placed her five dollar bill on the counter. 

“Keep the change!” she declared enthusiastically, before peering at him in concern. “You’re okay, right?” Hange asked. “Sorry, early mornings really aren’t for everyone, huh?”

He remained silent, placing the bill inside the cash register and shutting it close. Levi didn’t bother answering her question as he allowed his mind to get lost in thought. He continued the patterns of service he had long since memorized, his body on autopilot. 

Levi was always in control of his mind, his body, his spirit . . . so why?  There were a million questions racing through his head. ‘ Who the fuck is this girl? Damn, my heart feels like it’s going to pop out of my chest. This isn’t normal.’ 

He stole a glance at her lanky form, hoping that she wasn’t at the counter anymore and had taken a seat somewhere in the cafe. To his disappointment, she was still standing there, watching him make the drink. When she saw him look at her, she gave him a tiny wave. 

Levi felt his eye twitch in annoyance. She didn’t look particularly special, but she entered (no, infiltrated) his cafe with bright eyes and all smiles, making him feel things that he never even felt before. 

Which was, in his opinion, completely unacceptable. Levi Ackerman hated feeling out of control. 

He poured the drink into a tall cup expertly before placing it on top of the counter. “Hange,” he called, her name escaping his lips smoothly, as if he had said the syllables a million times before. 

Levi frowned, sensing the beginnings of a migraine in the middle of his eyebrows, so he pinches the area gently, as if the action could relieve some of the pain. 

Hange walked over to the counter, looking a bit concerned. “Hey, Levi,” she started, and the man visibly flinched. Why did the sound of his name from her voice trigger a barrage of emotions he’s never even bothered to feel before?

Levi dug his nails into the palms of his hands. He was almost about to ask ‘how the fuck do you know me’ and ‘do I fucking know you’ before the rational part of his brain interjected that she had probably seen his name tag. 

His silence gave Hange permission to speak again, so she continued. “Do you have a headache?” Without waiting for him to respond, she smiled. “I got just the thing! I’ll leave you this gift as my thanks for your service!” And with those words, she placed a painkiller on the counter as she gently took her drink. “Take it so you can have a good morning, okay? 

Levi watched her actions cautiously. 

She winked. “Oh, and don’t take it with tea.”  

Levi’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at this point. The words Do I know you? burst in his mind and died at the edges of his lips. Instead, he muttered a clipped “thank you” to her small token of appreciation. 

She grinned. “Take care, Levi!” 

And with those words, she left, leaving Levi to wonder out loud, “what the fuck just happened?” 

The body remembers what the mind has forgotten.  

[anxiousstark]

S1 06 | Co-Captain

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 2091

Warnings: Mentions drugs, child abuse, swearing (always).

A/N: I’m sorry but this is a filler chapter, an IMPORTANT one. Y/N’s past start coming back, her mom’s story is quite significant, and the mention of his dad. NEXT WEEK WE FINISH SEASON 1! THINGS START GETTING FCKING INTERESTING!

Scott had told us last night what happened to him. Peter and Derek had gone to the changing rooms, searching for him. Peter had shown him what happened to the Hale family. It was a truly sad story. Stiles told him what happened in the hospital, including what I did. But he hadn't told him that while Peter was showing him his past, I was shaking in Stiles's bedroom while he searched what creature I could be.

"What's up?" Stiles stopped the jeep next to Jackson and his car. He was accompanied by Chris Argent, someone who looked like an asshole. He was.

"Is everything okay?"

"Hey, Scott. Your friend, here, was having car trouble. We're just taking a look." He replied with a smile on his face. His blue eyes weren't warm, they were cold, transmitting uneasiness.

"There's a shop right down the street. I'm sure they have a tow truck." Scott pointed down the street. I just silently sat on the back of the jeep, observing Chris.

"Yeah. You want a ride?" Scott opened the door while Chris turned his face to look at Jackson. "Hey, come on, Jackson. You're way too pretty to be out here all by yourself." Jackson started walking towards us, and Scott came out of the car to let him in.

"Hey, boys." He turned the engine of the car on, it was working. "Told you I knew a few things about cars." Then, he went back to his car, driving away.

"What, are you following me, now?" Stiles got out of the car while I decided to stay inside, rolling the window down so I could hear them better.

"Yes, you stupid freaking idiot. You almost gave away everything, right there." Scott started screaming. Seems like his 'anger issues' were still there.

"What are you talking about?"

"He thinks you're the second beta."

"What?"

"He thinks you're me!" Scott grunted, punching Stiles's jeep. Uh oh, he touched his baby.

"Dude, my jeep."

Scott ignored his best friend and continued speaking his mind to Jackson. "I can hear your heart beating from a mile away, literally! Now he thinks that there's something wrong, and now I have to keep an eye on you so he doesn't kill you too!"

He turned to the jeep again, to hit it. But Stiles stopped him. "Okay, how about we step away from Stiles's Jeep?"

"This is your problem, not mine, okay? I didn't say anything, which means you're the one that's gonna get me killed. Okay, this is your fault." Jackson couldn't control his temper, pushing Scott against the jeep, making it tumble a little. I decided to go out, standing next to the owner of the said jeep.

"Can we stop hitting my jeep?" Scott pushed Jackson away from him. "Yo, all right, yo, guys, stop. All right?"

"When they come after you, I won't be able to protect you." His gaze landed on his best friend. "I can't protect anyone."

"Why are you looking at me?" I put my hand on his back, rubbing it to help him calm down. He had concluded that Scott couldn't protect him if he didn't have the power.

"You know, now you have to do it. Get me what I want, and I will be fine protecting myself."

"No, you won't! Just trust me. All it does is make things worse." His eyes were desperate, but Jackson didn't seem to care. "Yeah, I can run really fast now. Except half the time, I'm running away from people trying to kill me! And I can hear things like - like my girlfriend telling people that she doesn't trust me anymore right before breaking up with me. I'm not lying to you! It ruins your life."

"It ruined your life." He smiled wickedly. "You had all the power in the world, and you didn't know what to do with it. You know what it's actually like? It's like you turned 16, and someone bought you a Porsche when they should have started you out with a nice little Honda. Me? I drive a Porsche." He turned around, determined to go back to his so-loved car.

"You aren't a werewolf." I decided to speak for the first time that day. Jackson stopped on his track. "You are something. I don't know what, but you are something." I choked, it was Stiles's turn to rub my back. I wasn't human anymore, and I hadn't had enough time to sit down and talk about it with someone. "And I am too." I stepped in front of the other two boys. "You were there that night." I simpered. "Do you remember that day at school? You asked me if my wound was hurting, you told me you felt different, that you weren't the same Jackson anymore." He turned around to look at me, jaw clenched. "I told you that all that was because you were a teenager. The changes a teenager goes through, you know?"

"Are you done?" He interrupted. "Don't wanna be here anymore."

"I lied." His attention was back on me again. "I lied, Jackson. I could smell you. And you smelled like the dead." He got into the car, driving away.

Stiles grabbed the milk from the fridge, deciding to take it with himself to his room, until he saw his dad sitting on a table, documents all over it. "Whatcha doing?"

"Work."

"Anything I can help with?"

"You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey, that would be awfully nice." He didn't have to think it twice, grabbing a glass and the bottle of whiskey.

"Any leads?" Stiles was going to grab a document when his father slapped his hand away. "Wait. Before we get into that topic. Did you know that Melissa was going to bring Y/N?" He bit his lower lip.

Sheriff Stilinski nodded, drinking his alcohol. "An old workmate had that case. The case of Y/N McCall." Stiles waited for his father to go on. "As you know, Scott grew up without his father but seems like that man wasn't in her life neither. She only saw him a couple of times for what I know." He wrote down some information about Derek Hale. "Her mother was a disaster. My friend carried that case. He freed her from jail one time."

"Jail?" Stiles drank milk again.

"Drugs. An entire criminal record related to drugs; driving under the influence, getting into fights while high..." He coughed. "Then," Noah Stilisnki gazed at his son for the first time that night, ignoring the paper works that were on top of the table. "Child abuse." Stiles dropped the bottle, thankfully it was empty. "Y/N went to court with bruises a couple of times, nothing more than that. But still, abuse."

"Didn't they took her away? What are social services for? Didn't they protect her?" His eyebrows furrowed while he glanced at his dad, who was now looking at the documents on the table.

"They called Y/N's father to court, hoping he would take responsibility for his daughter like any father would do." Stiles's mouth was agape. "But he didn't. The judge decided that the environment wasn't the best one for a child. But, still gave an opportunity to her with the condition of going to rehab."

"Did she?" The teen asked, immersed in the story.

"No, she left Y/N on the front door of one of her friends, who was also into drugs in the past. However, that friend was clean."

"She said her mother died."

"She did." Noah stared at his son. "In jail. She died in jail. She...uhm, ended her life." Stiles was shocked. He had to talk to Scott. She wasn't there to make Scott mad, she was there because she had nobody.

"Why did she end up in jail?"

Noah shook his head. "She was on drugs, and...Uhm, she murdered someone. Then, she took her own life in jail."

Stiles could feel his heart beating loudly. He couldn't imagine how she felt.

Someone knocked on the door, and I came out of my room to see Melissa all dressed up. "Hey." She grinned at me, eyes shining with happiness. "You look beautiful." I offered her a grin, she thanked me, looking back at Scott.

"Scott! Get the door. Scott! For the love of God, please! Hey. What are you doing? Aren't you gonna invite him in?" She was like a teenager on her first date. Not surprised if we remember that she once was married to the man who put his dick on the woman that I should call mom.

I walked down the stairs when I heard Scott talking to her mom's date. He must feel strange, but I was curious to know who he was.

"I'm ready, I'm ready. Sorry again." It was Peter. Peter Hale.

"Mom."

"Yes? Sweetheart?" She was grabbing Peter's arm. I could tell she wanted to go out with him, and have a delightful night. But we all knew why Peter Hale was here. It wasn't because he had fallen in love with Melissa, or because he wanted to get to know her better. It was because of Scott and me.

"Have a good time." The door closed in our faces. "Don't say it."

I did anyway. "Are you going to let your mom go on a date with that demented psychopath?"

"Look, he told me that if I said something-" He sighed. "And what do I tell her? That her son is a teen werewolf, and that dude is-" He had difficulties breathing. "And Allison is upstairs-"

"Scott." I interrupted. "Calm down, okay?" I bit my lower lip, trying to think of something. "Give me your phone." He was confused.

"C'mon!" When he handed me his phone, I called the only person who could help me. "Stiles? Hi! Uhm, I need your help."

I explained the situation to Stiles while we followed Melissa and Peter. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

I grunted. "I wish I was." I tried to get comfortable in the passenger seat. "Here they are." I glanced at him. "What do we do now?"

"We hit."

"Uh?"

Both of us got out of the car. Melissa's face becoming red when she saw Stiles. "Oh, are you kidding me? Stiles!" Her gaze fell on me next. "Y/N?"

"Mrs. McCall?" Great acting, Stiles. "Wow, this is - this is just crazy. What a coincidence, huh?" He looked at me for a second. "I mean - I do not know what happened. You guys just came out of nowhere."

"Came out of nowhere! We were parked on the side of the road, Stiles."

"How crazy is that? I mean, we should probably call the cops, you know, do like an accident report thing." I nodded my head while grabbing Melissa's hand. Please, please.

"I don't think that's necessary." Peter interrupted, looking around.

"Are you sure? I think I'm feeling a little whiplash." He touched his neck.

"Whiplash? You hit us!"

"I don't know - there's something definitely wrong with my neck." Melissa started screaming at him, and Peter went far from us, he was probably communicating with Scott, who had followed us.

I went closer to Peter, hearing him talk about Jackson. "Don't get close to her." He turned around. smirking at me. "Be a man." I glared at him. "Melissa has nothing to do with all this. Be a man, go for the ones who have something to do with this."

He grinned. "What are you going to do, sweetheart?"

"I was not the one held against a wall with a hand on my neck, choking to death." I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look intimidating.

"You don't even know how you did it." He came closer to me. "But I know-how. Don't you want to know? Don't you want to know what you are?" He tried to brush my cheek, but I slapped his hand away. "You, my dear, are very powerful. More than you think. Maybe even more than Scott. When you learn what you are and what you can do, you will be a great weapon."

"I'm a person, not a weapon."

"Aw, sweetheart." He pouted. "You aren't a person anymore, and you know it." He whispered the next thing, but of course, Scott was listening to him. "You could be stronger with me. Be part of my pack."

"She already has a pack." I hear Scott's voice in my head. How did he do that? "She is part of my pack."

[eberles]

i hate u, i love u

Rafe Cameron

(gif by @toesure :)

Request: A Rafe fic based on the song “I hate u, I love you” by gnash (ft Olivia O’Brien) PLEASE MAJOR RAFE VIBES 🥺💖 @fav-imagines

A/N: I wanted to cry writing this lol idk why but it hit me right in the feels!! it’s kind of all over the place, if anyone is confused by, don’t worry bc i am too!!!! lol anyways enjoy!! (this is probably the first thing ive ever written that goes with rafe’s character) bold = lyrics, italics = flashbacks

Warnings: angst, mentions of drugs, cheating, lying, toxic relationship, swearing

feelin used, but im still missin you and i cant see the end of it just wanna feel your kiss against my lips and now all this time is passing by, but i still cant seem to tell you why it hurts me every time i see you, realize how much i need you

I’ve spent months sitting in my room staring at the ceiling, and at the walls. I did a full Bella Swan from New Moon and let 3 months go by without being present for any of them. I didn’t care honestly...Even after spending all that time alone, i’m not still not healed from the heartache that was caused by him. I still miss him, his scent, his kisses, his clothes, everything. Rafe.

I went out once and he was the last person I wanted or planned to see, but of course, he was the only person I actually saw. Sure, there were other people around, but none of them mattered. Everyone else felt greyed out except for him. He was the only light I could see in those short moments. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, my breath hitched in my throat and it felt like there was no air left to breathe.

After months it still hurts to see him again. It hurts because I realized I still need him even after everything. I hate him. So why do I love him? The feeling of him being the only one I want, the one nobody could ever replace...it’s overwhelming and I can’t seem to shake it. But me? He replaced. It looked like it was easy from my point of view. He needed her, wanted her, and i’m not her.

i miss you when i can’t sleep or right after coffee or right when i can’t eat, i miss you in my front seat, still got sand in my sweaters from nights we don’t remember. do you miss me like i miss you? fucked around and got attached to you.

My head was consumed on thoughts of you. It was constant. Like the leaky faucet in the bathroom or the loose floorboard. Always running, always broken. I miss you. Maybe you’ll come around, but for now...I wish you were here instead. When it’s late and I can’t sleep, I think about you. When it’s early and I can’t eat, I think about you.

“Where are we going?” you giggled excitedly, grabbing my hand from across the console in my truck.

“Shh, I told you it’s a surprise baby, we’re almost there anyways.” I laughed at her giggling like a kid, she had so much excitement in her eyes. She was always ready for anything, even if it was 2 in the morning and I love that about her. I love everything about her.

“Ugh fine!” she groaned dramatically and rolled her eyes in a full circle looking up at the ceiling. “Why are we at the beach?” you didn’t even give me enough time to answer before jumping out of the truck and running towards the sand laughing the entire way to the water. Once I caught up with you, I grabbed your hands and pulled you close into my chest, kissing your forehead. When we broke apart I laid down a few blankets on the sand, noticing you were cold, I also gave you my sweater.

We stared at the stars and talked about anything and everything for hours. It felt magical. We stayed until the sun came up, watching the sunset before driving back to my house for some much needed rest.

Walking over to my closet, curious to know if that same sweater ended up back in my closet after that night. I reached in, digging around not finding anything and decided to look in my dresser instead. Of course, it was folded neatly in the drawer you used to call yours. Grabbing and shaking it out I noticed the light pieces of sand that fell from it. I brought it in to my nose wondering if it still smelt like your perfume. It did. I’m always tired lately, but never of you. Do you miss me too?

if i pulled a you on you, you wouldn’t like that shit, i put this reel out, but you wouldn’t bite that shit. i type a text then i never mind that shit, i got these feelings, but you never mind that shit. you’re still in love with me but your friends don’t know.

To Y/N: i wanna talk, i think...maybe i miss y-

*delete*

To Rafe: I miss you so much, it hurt someti-

*delete*

“Y/N...what’s going on? You’re off in never never land! Do you still miss him?” Kiara asked, gently shaking my knee to gain my attention back to the group. I looked at her and around at the rest of the pogues and put a smile on my face, shaking my head.

“Of course not, it’s been months! I’m so over him, guys. Besides even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.” I tried so hard to sound confident. I hope they bought it. Of fucking course, I miss Rafe. I’m still in love with him for gods sake. I hate that I want him.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Sure, i’ve moved on, but I think about y/n, just about everyday. I guess for me, moving on is finding someone new, but not actually wanting anyone new. I just couldn’t bare to be alone anymore with my thoughts. I deserve better than that, personally.

“Anyways Topper, if y/n wanted me still, she would say so right?” I looked at Topper, silently hoping he would lie to me, just tell me what I want to hear, man. “If I were her, I would’ve never let me go. She’s missing out.”

“Hell yea, dude! That’s the right attitude.” Topper said, jumping up to high five me. Of course, that was the statement he was on board with. I hate that I want you.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

I haven’t been to a party in months, Kiara and Sarah thought that this would be the most fitting post-break up activity for me. Maybe meet a new guy or something. I tuned out when they were telling me about it and just agreed. What I neglected to listen to, was that it was a kook party. So now, i’m at a party alone, since my friends ditched me to dance with each other. And on top of that, I watch him watch her, like she’s the only girl he’s ever seen.

It took less than an hour of being at this party for us to end up in a room alone together.

“You don’t care! You never did!” Rafe shouted, running his hands through his hair, clearly exasperated with this conversation. I don’t even know how it started. One minute I was watching him with another girl, and the next he was hauling me off, away from everyone.

“You don’t give a damn about me, Rafe! How is it you never notice that you’re slowly killing me?” you wanted to yell back at him, to scream at him for putting you through this again, but you couldn’t. He didn’t say anything in return so you continued, “I hate you, and I hate that I love you, Rafe.” I’ve tried to move on, but even the simple thought of dating anyone but him, makes me physically ill. Why does it have to be like this?

“I don’t mean no harm, I just miss you on my arm, babe. Do you ever wonder what we could’ve been y/n?” He’s taunting me by asking dumb questions, as if I wanted this to happen, as if i’m the cause of all of this. Rafe’s the one that was closed off, not me. Of course, he switches the stories and i’m sure everyone at this damn party thinks I left him heart broken.

“You have a girlfriend, why are you even asking me that?” I was starting to get angry, I felt like he was toying with me.

He’s laughing. Of fucking course, he’s laughing at me. This is all one big fucking joke to him. “Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix. Isn’t that what you always told your friends Rafe?” I was furious, how could he act that way after everything? He’s still a child though, that will never change.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

You were right. I did lie to you, multiple times. About where I was, who I was with, what I was doing. I didn’t want you to know I was such a fuck up. You didn’t deserve the pain of finding out I was lying and cheating and drugging. You did anyways though. Now all my drinks and all my feelings are all fucking mixed.

“Rafe! Come dance with me!” I downed the rest of my drink before throwing the glass down and walking away from the new girl I was seeing. I didn’t care anymore.

I don’t want you, Y/N. I shouldn’t fucking miss you. I don’t deserve to! Seeing you again is such bullshit. If you wouldn’t have shown up here, I wouldn’t have said those things to you. Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges, just to create some distance. You didn’t deserve that, I knew it, but at least now you might learn your lesson and stay away. It’s for the best, right?

I hate that I love her, but I can’t put nobody else above her.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

I wasn’t sure if I had the closure I needed, but after that particular conversation with Rafe I felt a little better. I returned to the party with my head held high and danced with my friends. I hoped he was watching me too since i’m not sure what he was trying to do by joking around at my expense. But maybe if he thinks it didn’t bother me he will know how it fucking feels. 

I learned from my dad that it’s good to have feelings when love and trust is gone. I guess this is moving on. I hate you, I love you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[rainy-day-gracie]

Old Friends 4

Spencer Reid x reader

This chapter includes more of Reader’s backstory, I included a brother, but if you don’t have a brother... just do whatever you want. More fluff!!

Enjoy :)

Chapter 5 has been posted!!

Chapter 4:

“C’mon, smarty pants! We can do it!” I was practically yelling in between pants and heaves. “So close!”

“I hate you so much,” I heard him wheeze. 

I was the only one in the world that could convince Spencer to go on a jog through the city, and I think he was regretting that decision severely. “Do it for donuts!” 

When we finally reached our end destination, he practically collapsed onto a nearby bench, his chest heaving up and down. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked with a smile. “We’re close to the cafe and the subway, so we won’t even have to walk that far.”

“For the record, it definitely was that bad, YFN. Don’t try and sugar coat it.” 

I grabbed his wrist and pulled him off the bench. “We need carbs, right now. Carbs covered in chocolate and sprinkles, let’s go.” 

He groaned and followed me into the cafe. “Where will we get changed into work clothes?” 

“They have bathrooms at the BAU. Stop whining-“ I stopped talking as soon as I saw who was in front of me. 

Morgan looked just as surprised to see us, sweaty, tired, and together, at 7:30 in the morning. His surprised look quickly changed into an amused one, and Morgan started chuckling. “Well, hello, lovebirds.” 

“Hello, Morgan,” I said, feeling like I was caught. But we weren’t, right? We’re not dating, and all we did was go for a jog together. “Um, good morning.” 

I could feel Spencer’s nervous energy rolling off of him. “Hey, Morgan.” 

Morgan gave one last chuckle, and left the cafe without another word. Through the window I could see him pulling out his phone. There was nothing we could do about it now. 

It was only our luck. I chuckled slightly at the thought, and turned to the cashier. “Four chocolate covered donuts with sprinkles, an unsweetened iced tea, and a large coffee with lots of milk and sugar please.”

---

I sat at my desk, trying not to laugh at how Spencer winced every time he had to move his legs. Morgan kept looking over at us and chuckling. 

I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t a big deal. No matter what happens, we’re still old friends. We aren’t dating, and a jog in the early morning together isn’t exactly romantic. 

During our lunch break, JJ came up to me. “Why is Morgan giggling like a four year old?” 

“Well, Spencer and I went on a jog together this morning. We went to a cafe after and Morgan was there also.” I explained in a low voice. “He’s now convinced we were on some kind of date, which we weren’t.” 

JJ looked dumbfounded. “Spence must care about you more than we thought. No one’s ever been able to get him to go on a jog before.” 

I laughed. “Well, I think he now hates me for it so-“ 

“Hello, wonderful people!” Garcia called from the railing. “We have a case!”

---

“First victim, Bethany Conlin, was found beaten to death just outside of a small town, Pagosa Springs, Colorado.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Pagosa Springs?”

Garcia looked confused. “Yeah, What is it?”

“Oh um, nothing, it’s just my hometown.” Not much of a home anymore. 

“Oh cool! Anyways, a second victim, Cassie Holloway, was found by some hikers by a commonly traveled trail in the woods. Also beaten to death.”

I tried to keep tears out of my eyes. Cassie? 

The team quickly talked over theories for a profile. The only thing I heard was, “Wheels up in 30.”

Before we left, Spencer and Morgan both pulled me aside. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked quietly. 

“You could barely keep it together in there.” Morgan added. 

I took a deep breath. “Cassie... She was my best friend until I moved away. She was the sweetest...” I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. “And she was murdered.”

They were both silent. 

I opened my eyes, anger replacing my sadness. “Let’s catch this son of a bitch.”

---

Hotch gave assignments on the jet. “Rossi, Reid, YLN, go to the ME to find out what you can about the bodies. Morgan, JJ, you guys go to the dump sites. Prentiss and I will interview the families.”

“Actually, Hotch,” I interjected. “Could I possibly interview the families? Um... Cassie Holloway was my good friend, and I’m from Pagosa Springs.” I looked down at the file in my lap. Cassie’s file.

Hotch considered it. “That would be alright. They might share more with you if they already know you. And YLN?”

“Yes?” 

“I’m sorry for your friend.”

---

Cassie’s parents looked exactly the same as they did when we were 10. Her mom had dark red hair, and her dad was bald. I used to think they looked scary, but now they just looked sad. 

I cleared my throat when I walked into the room. “Um, Mr. and Mrs. Holloway? I don’t know if you remember me but-“

Her mother gasped. “YFN? Is that you?”

I gave a small smile. “Yes, I’m here to catch Cassie’s killer. Um, have you seen her recently?”

Her father sniffled. “We saw her two days ago. We had dinner together, and... she was fine.” He erupted into a fit of tears. 

It hurt me in my chest to see this kind man that had practically raised me until I was twelve so broken up like this. “Did she mention anyone that had bothered her? Or someone she might’ve rejected? I know she’s a local bartender, maybe someone there?”

Her mother shook her head, rubbing her husband’s back. “You know Cassie... everyone loved her.” 

It was true. Cassie was one of the kindest souls I’ve ever come across. “One last question... does she know Bethany Conlin?”

Both of her parents looked at each other, then back at me. “Yes,” her mother breathed. “They were sorority sisters together in college.”

---

“Hotch!” I called across the station. “Bethany and Cassie were sorority sisters in college. They both went to Colorado State, they hadn’t spoken in a couple years, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that they both ended up dead in a week's period.” 

“This makes it highly likely that whoever is doing this went to college with them.” Hotch pulled out his phone. 

“What do you need, bossman?” Garcia called over speakerphone. 

“Garcia, Bethany and Cassie were sorority sisters in college. Can you find any incidents with the two of them that stand out or could be a motive?” I didn’t realize how fast my heart was beating until I stopped talking. 

“Hmmm... nothing jumps out, but I’m going to investigate further! Goodbye, my lovelies!” 

As soon as we hung up, the local sheriff approached us. “We just got an anonymous tip saying a third body would be found in an old abandoned bar on the edge of town,” the sheriff paused, and looked at me. “The caller said you had to be the one to find it first. Otherwise, and I quote, ‘there will be more than beaten bones next time’.”

I took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

---

The abandoned bar smelled like stale beer and mildew. I felt an odd chill when I entered the door, Hotch and Emily waiting outside. 

Pulling out a flashlight, the eerie bar creaked with every step I took. It wasn’t until I saw the pair of feet lying on the ground that made me stop, the bar falling silent. 

Slowly rounding the corner, I saw the torn clothing and broken body of a young man, probably the same age as me. I looked at his pale hands, and then I saw the ring. A plain gold ring that read ‘be strong for me’. 

“Oh my god,” I whispered. 

My feet couldn’t carry me fast enough out of that bar. I ran outside, desperate for fresh air, and I heard shouts calling after me. 

“YLN!” Prentiss chased me until I stopped to lean against the car, my head in my hands. “Hey, you’re hyperventilating!”

I slowed down my breathing enough to gasp a few words. “The body... a ring... my fault... oh my god, this is my fault!”

Prentiss pried my hands away from my face. “What is happening?” 

“The body,” I gasped. “He was my brother... and I know who did this.”

--- 

The team all gathered at the station. I hadn’t spoken to anyone yet except for Hotch and Prentiss, and after hearing my story, they didn’t have any doubts about who it was either.

Spencer walked into the quiet room the police had given us, looking at me with a worried face. I nodded at him, just to say it was going to be okay. 

“Growing up, my father owned a large share of an oil company. When he died when I was very young, he left my mom everything he owned, which was a lot.” I thought back to when Mom first got the call about the car accident. My dad and his mistress were killed on impact. “We moved here to Pagosa Springs, a fresh start. But my mom was so upset about my dad’s death that she started drinking. Excessively.” 

I took a deep breath. “She would scream and shout and disappear for days at a time. We’re twins, my brother and I. We were eleven. I was about to graduate high school at a very young age and I didn’t know what to do. When I went off to college for the first few years and stayed with my aunt, my brother would call me every time Mom was off drinking. When he was a teen, he got into drugs and pills and anything he could get his hands on. And I wasn’t there to help him.”

“But Cassie was.” Hotch guessed. 

“Yeah, she's the reason my brother got clean. They fell in love and both went to Colorado State together. She gave him a ring to wear whenever he started to have cravings again. One time, Cassie called me when I was at MIT, saying her friend, Bethany, was raped and couldn’t go to the police because her parents would stop paying her tuition for ‘causing a scene’... she said my brother, YBN...” my voice broke for the first time. “She said YBN beat the crap out of Bethany’s rapist. His name is Kenny Rogers, and from what I’ve heard, he was a sketchy dude with a massive temper even back then.” I closed my eyes. “Anyway, that’s most likely who our unsub is.” 

“You’re YBN’s sister,” Spencer said. “After having his ego blown massively, Kenny probably carried that hatred for anyone that was related to YBN. And YFN has been in newspapers, articles, even on TV. Something probably caused Kenny to snap recently, his trigger, and he felt the need to hurt YFN somehow to really get back at YBN.”

Hotch called Garcia. “Garcia, we need all addresses on a Kenny Rogers.” 

---

Kenny Rogers was guilty. No doubt. When the team went to his place, they found pictures of all the victims and Kenny tried to run whenever they broke down the door. 

I stayed behind at the station. I couldn’t trust myself to not shoot Kenny on sight for what he had done. 

“Hey, Hotch?” I asked when they got back. “Could I take a few days off? To take care of things...with my brother?” 

Hotch gave me a pat on my shoulder. “Take as much time as you need, just let me know when you’re coming back.” 

“Of course sir, and thank you.”

I made sure to pull Spencer aside before he left. “Thanks for... um, helping me explain... earlier. I was worried they wouldn’t think it was connected, and you already knew all that stuff about my childhood.”

“Of course, you know I would do anything for you.” Spencer stood there for a minute, then suddenly embraced me tightly in a hug. That wasn’t something he did very often, or at all. “I just...” 

I chuckled slightly, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I know, Spencer.” 

---

After the team took off on the jet, I checked into the local hotel. It was nice and rustic, homey. 

I called Spencer when I had settled in. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asked. “The team seems to be getting more and more impressed by you with each case.” 

I gave a snort. “Well, that’s a relief. I was scared after my life story they would see me as some kind of kicked puppy. And, I’m okay Spencer. At least, I’m going to be.”

“What will you do about your brother?”

I felt a melancholy smile on my lips, playing with the loose threads on the blanket. “He’s been cremated, and tomorrow I’m scattering his ashes in the mountains. It’s what he always wanted. I hadn’t spoken to him in years, but he always wanted to come back home, and I couldn’t wait to get away.” 

Spencer was quiet for a while. “Hey, YFN, I just wanna tell you... you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You went off to college and still took care of your brother at age twelve, you took a gap year to take care of your sick mom, and in your first few months at the BAU you’ve been able to impress every single team member... and they aren’t easily impressed.”

Happy tears pricked my eyes. “Well, um... that was one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever said to me. And Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you... so much.”

Spencer cleared his throat, like he was debating about saying something. “Um, YFN?”

“What is it?”

His voice lowered, like he didn’t want the team to hear. “In college, I... I was wanting to propose to you.”

My heart seemed to flutter and butterflies pounded in my chest. “Um... you’ve never told me that before. Why didn’t you... do it?”

He thought for a few moments. “Well, you were going to take care of your mom, and I was going to the FBI academy... also, I didn’t think you would say yes.”

“Wow... um, I don’t really know what to say.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

I gave a slight giggle. “You, speechless? I never would’ve guessed.”

Spencer laughed. “Well, goodnight, YFN. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Perfect Fit ~ KTH [Request]

➳➳➳Word Count: 2.2K

➳➳➳Pairing: Taehyung x reader

➳➳➳ Genre: FLOFFY and Soulmate!AU

➳➳➳ A/n: I used Taehyung in this because the baby boy deserves more attention on my account that being said I am really sorry it’s so short.

Taehyung was pacing nervously around the door of the hospital room you were sitting in, you'd been inside with a doctor for the last hour for physiotherapy on your back and he was waiting to know more and how it was going. You and Taehyung had been together for three years and this was the most nervous he had been since the day that he met you.

"Tae, I'm sure everything is fine. You'd feel it if it wasn't right?" Jimin questioned looking at his friend, Jimin was right. If you were in any kind of pain Taehyung would feel it thanks to the soulmate trait you both shared you shared pain. 

You were running late around the BigHit building, it was your first day and you were late so it wasn't a good impression. You groaned holding your wrists as you ran through the building, you'd woken up that morning to a splitting in your pain in your wrist, from your soulmate no doubt. You'd known you had a soulmate the moment you woke up with a pain in your leg when you were a teenager and you hadn't done anything. It started with small bruises that would appear from nowhere and you had no idea where they would come from, then you felt the pain of a broken leg and you realised what was going on. 

"I'm so sorry I was late," You mumbled looking into the room full of people, they were crowded around someone sitting in a chair, you walked over to him and looked at him.

"You okay?" You asked looking up to the boy who was sitting and staring at you, his brown eyes were boring into yours as you stared up to him. You were new on sight first-aider that BigHit had hired for some of their groups who were a little on the clumsy side of life.

"He was attempting a backflip," You looked over to the tallest member who had spoken, 

"I'm Namjoon, he's Taehyung."  

"Y/n, let me just get my things ready." You reached behind you and pulled the small bag to the front of your body when Namjoon and Taehyung spotted the giant purple bruise along your wrist.

"Are you alright?" You glanced up to Namjoon whose eyes were full of concern and you looked back down to what they were staring at, 

"Yeah, I didn't-I- My soulmate?" Namjoon nodding in understanding, it was common knowledge that many people had soulmate traits and none of you had put two and two together about it being the same wrist as Taehyung who that you had the same bruising around it. 

"I'll ice it and then heat it to bring your swelling out, then if it's still bad I'll take you to the hospital." As soon as you placed the ice pack onto his wrist you both let out a hiss and then stared at one another.

"Did that hurt?" He asked but you stared at his wrist,

"I'm supposed to ask you that." You laughed softly trying to make the air less tension-filled but he was serious about it, 

"Did it hurt you though?" Namjoon asked now intrigued by how everything was working within this and you nodded gently and looked at his wrist not wanting to drawer attention to yourself than was already on you but they weren't about to let this go that easily.

"How long have you been experiencing it?" You shrugged your shoulders, 

"Since I was around 16 I had a pain in my leg one morning when I woke up." All eyes went to Taehyung who was thinking back to when he broke his leg as a teenager and then it exploded into a huge conversation about when your pains would link up together. 

"Did you ever break your elbow?" He questioned remembering when he was 20 that he had a huge pain in the to his elbow, 

"Yeah, I fell off a rock." You laughed at the memory and Taehyung laughed along with you as you began to tell him the story of how it had happened.

From that day it was filled with both of you trying to be careful with everything, neither of you wanted to hurt the other so you were being extra cautious with everything happening around you. You began dating after a year of being friends not being able to dismiss the connection you felt between one another and not just because of the pain sharing trait you shared but because you got along amazingly and no one could deny you were perfect together. Things between you both were like something from a movie, you moved in together and you quit working for BigHit since in your contract there was a clause about dating within the company and you didn't want to get fired,

"Tae? Tae you okay?" Jungkook asked during practice that morning, 

"I don't know." He mumbled touching the bottom of his back and looking around the room, he could feel his back spasming and he knew instantly that there was something wrong. 

"Get me my phone." He groaned sitting down on the floor and trying to push through the excruciating pain he was starting to feel throughout his back, Jungkook rushed over to the bags and brought it over to Taehyung who was doing his best not to scream out. 

"Shit, she's not answering!" He threw his phone in the direction of the bags again and Jungkook helped him up, 

"Get Jin to get the car," Jungkook grumbled to Jimin who had just walked into the room. 

You screamed out in pain as you felt the pain radiating from the bottom of your back and up to the top of your neck, a doctor was standing outside out Taehyung who looked like he was ready to burst into tears and you felt bad. You knew he was feeling the same pain you were and you felt like crying just from that and the pain put together, 

"Y/n?" Your eyes looked over at him and he looked at the floor, 

"The doctor is going to explain it." The bed was moved up and you were looking at Taehyung who was avoiding your gaze and a doctor was staring at you as if you were some broken toy,

"We're doing our best..."

"Doing your best for what?" You questioned confused by what was happening no one had explained anything to you since you arrived, all you knew was it agony to try and move anything except your hands and arms. 

"We have a drug that will stop the pain your experiencing but there are some side effects." He went on to explain that the side effects of using the drug were losing the ability to walk until they could get you a permanent solution. There was no explanation for why the pain was so bad and they were going to have to run countless tests until they discovered what was happening and why you were going through what you were going through.

"I won't be able to walk?" He shook his head at you, Taehyung had been silent throughout the whole thing, 

"Will he feel anything?" He shook his head, 

"But he'll still be able to walk, and you'll have full use of your upper body." The doctor explained but you didn't need to hear anything else if it was going to stop the pain Taehyung was experiencing you would do anything.

"I'll take it," The doctor tried to speak over you but you shook your head at him and insisted it was what you wanted to go through with, you couldn't stand the thought of hurting Taehyung anymore than you had. 

"Y/n..."

"Tae if it means you're not in pain anymore I'll do anything." The doctor left the room to fill paperwork for you and Taehyung came closer, promising to do everything he could to make it easier for you, to find any kind of treatment to make you better. 

"T-Tae, you don't want to stay. I'm not going to be able to-"

"Don't you dare start that, I'm not going to leave you at the first signs of trouble, I will never leave you." He promised, kissing the top of your head and then holding your hands in his. 

That was the last day you could walk, after that, you were placed into a wheelchair and countless amounts of physiotherapy classes, and after two years of being in the chair doctors began to develop on the treatment course you were on, and a small surgery was performed on the lower part of your back to find out what was causing the pain which was discovered to be a dislodged piece of bone, unsure of how it happened they replaced it with a metal disc in its place to support you from that point it was more physiotherapy, Taehyung coming along to each of them never once letting you go through it on your own.

"Tae?" He was pulled from the daydream was having when he heard Jimin's voice calling him again, he looked at his friend and sat down on the chair next to him. 

"You both would have felt something when they took her off the drugs right?" He knew Jimin was right, they'd taken you off the drug that stopped you from walking when they did the surgery and you were never placed on them again. That's why the classes were important, they were treating you to walk again. But it didn't stop his mind from racing over all the possibilities that could have happened, the surgery could have gone wrong back at the start of the year and now it was only becoming clear, what if the physio wasn't working and you were just being pushed more and more and it was making it worse. 

"Dude. Relax." The door clicked and they both stared up to look, the doctor walked out with a blank expression on his face and left without speaking to either of them, 

"Y/n?" Taehyung called out nervously, today was the day you were supposed to walk but when he entered the room you were still sitting in the chair with a grim look on your face. 

"Can you push me into the hall please," You mumbled not making eye contact with him, he nodded and wheeled you out to Jimin whose smile dropped from his face upon seeing you and you sighed. 

"Taehyung can you get me a bottle of water please?" He walked over the vending machine and you smirked to yourself getting up from the chair and walking over to him steadily, Jimin's mouth fell agape as he watched it. 

"I didn't want this one baby, the one of the top shelf." Taehyung nodded without realising you were standing next to him and reached up for the drink dropping it on the floor as soon as he noticed you standing there. 

"BABY!" He screamed alerting some of the other people that were in the hallway with you, he pulled you into a hug and you began crying into his neck as you wrapped your arms around him. 

"You're walking!" He yelled watching as you walked over to Jimin and gave him a hug, he was also crying about you being able to walk once again. 

"I'm walking." You giggled turning around and facing Taehyung who was still shaking his head in astonishment at you,

"I still have to come to classes and take the chair for when I'm tired but I can walk!" You yelled excitedly, Taehyung wasted no time rushing over to you and picking you up in his arms lifting you above his head and bringing you back down to kiss you as he'd seen in all the movies and dramas. 

"Tae we're in public." But he didn't care, all he cared about was celebrating the fact that his girlfriend could walk again and he could finally talk about a subject you had touched upon before.

"Jimin go and get the car." Jimin walked away knowing that meant we want to talk along and Taehyung sat you down on the chair beside him and you stared at him. 

"We talked about this before-" Was he really about to do this in the middle of a hospital, you'd had this conversation a year into your back being the way it was and you said no then and there was only one reason.

"Here?" You giggled watching as he slipped down onto one knee and pulled out a blue velvet box and staring up at you, 

"Will you, Y/n Y/l/n do my the honour of becoming my wife?" You teared up as he stared at you, you didn't care that there were people all staring at you both in the hallway or that they were pulling out cameras to capture the beautiful moment exchanged between you. 

"Of course," You giggled dropping from the chair and kissing him passionately ignoring the looks from passers-by who weren't impressed by the show of love since it was a hospital.

"I love you." You mumbled against his lips, he pulled away sliding the ring onto your finger and smiling at the perfect fit for you.

Tagline: 

@yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​  @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @kpopfanfictionhoes​ @lyoongx​ @callingmyangel​ @fan-ati--c​ @mitzwinchester​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @rjsmochii​  

[sierraraeck]

Recovery

Spencer x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Now that everything has settled down, will Spencer and Aundreya ever get their happy ending? Story twenty-five.

Category: Fluff with your weekly dose of angst mixed in.

Warnings: Cussing. Drinking. Brief mention of a dead body and drug use.

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: I don’t really remember what Rossi’s mansion looks like, so just go with me.

I woke up.

It probably doesn’t seem revolutionary, but that’s all that happened. For once, all I did was wake up. No glass shattering, phone bussing, table crashing, or blood spilling involved. Just slowly opening my eyes, looking around, and checking the time.

11:27? Holy shit did I take sleeping pills and not remember?

Rolling out of bed, I padded out of Spencer’s bedroom. “Good morning, sleepy head,” he sang. But that was not Spencer’s voice teasing me. I turned the corner and saw Derek standing in the kitchen with Spencer. I gave him a confused look and he gave me a gigantic grin, “I was supposed to take pretty boy out to lunch today, but it seems his company kept him away.”

My voice sounded raspy, “You could’ve just gone. I would’ve been okay.”

“Yeah, but I think you’ve had enough surprises for forty lifetimes. I figured I didn’t need to add on to that,” Spencer smiled.

“Plus, I didn’t mind coming over,” Derek shrugged, “Nice morning voice by the way.”

I cleared my throat, “Just because I woke up two minutes ago does not mean I can’t still kick your ass.”

“A morning attitude too, huh?” he wiggled his eyebrows at me. “I’ll take my chances.”

I was still groggy, my body not knowing what to do with this much sleep, and filled up a glass of water. I leaned up against the counter next to Spencer, opposite Derek. The two of them were eating a freshly made plate of breakfast, and when Spencer caught me looking at his, he said, “There’s another plate in the microwave if you want it.” I nodded.

I don’t know why it hit me then, but it was like a wave of knowledge that just slapped me in the face. There’s a dead fucking body probably rotting in my living room right now. I paused mid step, then turned to set my water glass down on the counter, trying not to panic. “Thank you for the offer, but I better get home.”

I started heading toward the door and Derek joked, “Looking like that?”

I spun around to face him, “I said I’d kick your ass.”

He laughed and walked after me, shutting the door the moment I opened it, “We took care of it.”

I furrowed my brows, “What? What do you mean, what are you talking about?”

“Slow down,” he rolled his eyes, “We. Took. Care of it.” When I was still looking at him bewildered, he motioned for me to return to the kitchen, “Eat your breakfast.”

“I-I don’t understand,” I shook my head.

“Emily and I went to check out your place after you made that little comment to us. We saw that it could use a little cleaning up, let’s say. So we called some of your friends, Deen and the big guys, and the five of us picked some things up,” he explained so casually, as if we weren’t talking about two federal agents working with my criminal friends to get rid of a dead man.

I felt weird but there was nothing I could do about it. Not like I would’ve done anything about it. I was honestly relieved that they cleaned up for me because I really didn’t want to have to deal with another problem. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

Derek shrugged, “No problem.”

I offered a small laugh at the absurdity of that, and Spencer looked between the two of us absolutely confused. It was kind of adorable. “What are you talking about?”

I was about to answer when Derek stepped in, “You know how her apartment looked after all of those break ins. Now that we’re assuming those won’t happen anymore, we decided to clean it up for her.”

I gave Derek a look as if to say ‘You’re not going to tell him?’ Why would he lie for me? Derek ignored my gaze.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Spencer said, shyly smiling.

“Yes it was,” I agreed. I grabbed the plate of bacon, eggs, and toast out of the microwave. It has cooled down a little, closer to room temperature, but it was better than most other breakfasts I’d had. Usually I didn’t have time for food at all. “Derek, this is great.”

Spencer dropped his fork and looked at me offended, “Why did you just assume it was him?”

Derek laughed and I pressed my lips together, trying to hide a smile, “It’s just … You’re a chemistry guy, so baking works for you. Cooking, on the other hand…” I gave him a sarcastic grimace.

“Alright, fine, I get it,” Spencer tried to act annoyed, but I could tell he was having a bit of fun.

“Nothing personal, pretty boy,” Derek said, stabbing another bite of eggs. “I just know my breakfast.”

I bit into the bacon and hummed, “Yeah. Definitely.”

“How are the two of you?” Derek asked after a few seconds had passed.

I held my breath for a moment, thinking he was referencing an us that we hadn’t exactly talked about, but Spencer answered, “Considering everything, not too bad. It’s better knowing that we all made it out safely.”

Oh, that’s what we’re talking about. Derek shifted his gaze to me, “As well as can be expected. I actually got the best night of sleep I can remember. I’ve never gotten over twelve hours of sleep before. I honestly think he gave me a sleeping pill or something,” I said, gesturing to Spencer.

“I can assure you, I did not,” he said.

“That’s good to hear. To add on to the good news, I have a surprise for the both of you,” Derek said. Spencer and I exchanged a look. “We have the next week off.”

“Thank god,” I started to say, before he’d even completely finished.

“I know,” Derek agreed with my reaction, “After everything that went on, which personally included our team, they thought it would be a good idea for all of us to take some time.”

“That’s fantastic,” I sighed in relief.

“After paperwork tomorrow,” Derek finished. I groaned.

My shoulders sagged and Spencer exclaimed, “Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Derek frowned, “But it’ll be over before you know it.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I walked into the office the next day, on time, might I add, but everyone else was already there getting a jump start on their work. I guess I missed the memo.

“How’d you sleep, Sleeping Beauty?” Derek teased as I passed his desk.

“I slept well,” I replied.

Emily, who was standing right next to him, jumped at the opportunity, “We can literally see the sleep in your eyes and the dark circles around them.”

I fired back, “Well you asked how I slept… and for the 20 minutes I did sleep, I slept well.” I gave them a mock grin.

“What happened? I thought you were soaking up the Zs,” Derek playfully asked.

“Payback I guess for getting more than I’m used to,” I shrugged as I finally sat down at my desk.

The day was decidedly not over before I knew it. It was excruciatingly slow, and everything was boring. Well, everything except Spencer.

He and I made frequent coffee runs and would always stop to talk while we were over there. I would look over at him when I was bored or couldn’t focus, and sometimes we’d make eye contact and he’d offer a small smile. It was nice to have someone who could understand how hard it was to consult on other cases after everything we’d just been through.

I started getting really jumpy, bouncing my leg as irritation set in. I decided I couldn’t sit in that damn chair looking at those damn files for a moment longer, suddenly pushing out from my desk, maybe a little too forcefully, and making my way to the bathroom. I walked over to the sinks and rested my hands on the counter, staring into the mirror. I splashed some water over my face, then wiped it away with the sleeve of my shirt. There was a knock at the door and I yelled, “Occupied!”

“Aundreya, it’s Spencer,” he voice rang through the door.

“Oh, sorry Spencer,” I said, opening the door.

“What’s going on?” he asked, slightly peering behind me.

“I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute,” I assured, about to shut the door on him.

He put his foot in the way and stared through me with those sparkling eyes. “Don’t hide. Not from me.”

I knew he wasn’t going to give up, so I did. “I’m just… distracted. It’s hard to focus and I feel like I have a lot I still need to get done,” I confessed.

“Doing the write up of what happened in the past 48 hours isn’t easy,” he acknowledged. He looked around nervously, and I realized that we were having this conversation half in and half out of the bathroom, so I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in, locking the door behind us.

“Yeah, especially since I haven’t even gotten there yet.” He gave me a look that invited me to continue, so I added, “I’ve been dreading it. I’ve already been replaying and replaying what happened, and by now I can’t tell the difference between my nightmares, hallucinations, and reality.”

“You just need a break,” he said, “That’s understandable. Take your time, and if it makes you feel any better, we can go through the report together. I have one that I have to fill out, too. We can see if we can convince the rest of them to take some of our other files.”

I gave him a slight smile at the offer, then asked, “You have to fill one out, too?”

“We all have to, actually,” he informed me, “The rest have to describe what they saw and heard, Hotch has to explain his decision, and we have to report everything that went on in that room.”

“Wow, I guess we’re all having a shitty day,” I pointed out.

“So do you want to do them together?” he offered again, “It might help us fact check each other.”

“Sure. I’ll grab my file and meet you in the round table room,” I suggested.

“Aundreya…” he trailed off. I gave him a confused look. He sighed, “I’m not going to leave you here.”

Then I understood the other reason he was there. He thinks I’m getting addicted, like what happened to him. It explained all the shifty looking around and examining me. “I’m not doing that. I promise,” I assured. I just wanted one more moment to compose myself before having to face reality again.

“Just,” he broke eye contact with me, “Just come with me. Now?”

I relented, “Okay.”

I followed him out of the bathroom, grabbed my file, and met him in the round table room.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

“This was the longest day,” Derek complained, shaking his head.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” I mocked in my best Derek Morgan impression.

“Very funny, Sleeping Beauty,” he stuck his tongue out at me.

“Dinner at my place?” Rossi offered.

“In an hour?” Emily asked. I checked the time. It was almost five. I could wait until six to eat.

“Give me another half hour and you’ll be eating the best lasagna of your life,” Rossi smirked.

Emily cocked her head to the side, “Alright. I can wait.”

“Can Will and the boys come?” JJ asked.

“Of course,” Rossi answered, as if it was an absurd question, “Actually, you should all bring someone.”

Emily laughed, “How about Sergio?”

“Not sure if he’d like lasagna,” Rossi raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll see Savannah, right?” JJ asked Derek.

“Yes ma’am, as long as she isn’t paged,” Derek smiled.

“Savannah?” I questioned.

“Oh, just some hot nurse Derek has managed to pick up,” Emily teased.

“Hey,” Derek called, “I’ll have you know that she is the smartest, kindest, and most beautiful person I know.”

“More than me?” Penelope pouted as she entered the bullpen.

“Don’t be silly baby girl,” Derek assured, “You’re geniuses in different ways.”

This made Penelope smile like a schoolgirl. I’d always loved their outrageous banter.

“Speaking of geniuses,” JJ segued, “What about you Spence?”

For the first time in this conversation, Spencer looked up. We all knew he hadn’t been listening, “What about me?”

“Are we going to be seeing Maeve tonight?” JJ asked.

Spencer’s mouth hung open, struggling for words when Derek saved him, “No pressure, kid. We just haven’t seen her in awhile, so invite her if you want.”

“Y-yeah, uh, yeah,” Spencer said, finally sounding more confident in his answer. I could tell he was doing everything he could to avoide my gaze. But I really shouldn’t have expected anything else. We went though a mutual trauma, that doesn’t fix what’s already broke.

“Cool,” JJ said, standing up from her seat on Emily’s desk, a smile plastered to her face. I didn’t think anything of it until she looked at me, her smile becoming just slightly wider. She’d never really liked me, not really. Whenever I got too close, she’d try to convince me to stay away, or challenge my intentions and how much I cared about him, or try to push Spencer in a different direction. She was protective of him, but for reasons I no longer understood. If she felt something for him, she needed to back off because she was married, and if she cared about his feelings, she needed to let him make his own decisions about what he wanted. She clearly had no faith in him to make the right decision for himself.

But I had to have more trust in him than she did. I wasn’t about me over Maeve. It was about Spencer. I had to believe he’d do what was best for him whether that included me or not.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

This was a bad idea.

There was no way I was going to be able to sit through the entire dinner watching Spencer and Maeve and everyone else chat it up with them.

This was a very bad idea. I need a drink.

Rossi was not kidding when he said he lived in a mansion. The place was enormous. There were elaborate marble stairs that led up to the dark wood double doors with windows that looked as intricate as stained-glass. Behind those doors were about three different versions of living rooms: there were couches and a tv to left with a bar on the right, down the hall to the right was another set of loveseats and chairs with a grand piano, and there was a massive dining room table across from the kitchen. The kitchen. Don’t get me started on that man’s kitchen. I wouldn’t even know how to use over half of the things in there.

Everyone was standing by his bar-slash-counter thing, and my aim was to get away from everyone, so I figured I’d head to said kitchen. Rossi was on the opposite side of the island, searing some vegetables in a saute pan.

“How’s it going in here?” I asked, hopping up to sit on the island.

“My expensive whiskey is in that cabinet over there,” he pointed to one on his right, not even glancing up at me.

I chuckled, reaching down to grab it before looking for two glasses to pour it into. Rossi did not help me out on that one, enjoying the show of me opening every single cabinet until I found some that I decided would suffice. I poured some into each glass, pushing one across the granite countertop. Rossi clinked our glasses together, then took a swig.

“I’d offer to help, but I have no idea what a kitchen is,” I commented.

He laughed, “That’s good, because I wouldn’t let you. I’m a control freak when it comes to my food.”

“Me too,” I smiled, “But not nearly in the same way.”

“I’d go for possessive,” he nodded. I shrugged in agreement. “What’s the problem?”

“No problem,” I said, taking another sip.

“People don’t just come in here looking for my expensive stuff without a problem,” he pointed out.

I just looked at him. “You know why I’m here, otherwise you wouldn’t have known what I was after when I first walked in.”

“Touche,” he admitted, “But you’re distracting me from my cooking. I will not serve these people burnt food, so you should go back out there.”

“Bullshit,” I countered, “You could cook with your eyes shut and hands tied behind your back.”

He dodged my quip and encouraged, “Go back out there and be social.”

“I am being social. I’m talking to you,” I pointed out.

“I’m not the most social guy, either. I’m by myself in a kitchen, usually how I like it, but we have company over, so I think we should interact with them.”

“We have company over?” I asked smugly.

“You did live here on and off for a while,” he acknowledged.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“No,” he glanced over at me, smirking, “Now go back out there.”

I crossed my arm and pretended to pout like a child, “I don’t wanna.”

“Just go, talk to a few people,” he gave me a pointed look, “Talk to him.”

“Them,” I corrected.

“Exactly, the more the merrier.”

I groaned, downing the rest of my drink before shuffling back out the kitchen. Before I left, I called, “Come get me if you need anything. Like anything. Cleaning, pouring another drink-”

“Get the fuck out of my kitchen.”

I rolled my eyes and loudly whispered, “Anything.”

I heard him mumble, “Dramatic.”

“Heard that!” When I got back out to the first living room, I looked around for someone to talk to. There were a lot of groups, it would’ve been so easy just to pick one and walk up to them, but I really didn’t feel like talking to people, especially the non-team members. I was about to pull myself together and introduce myself to Savannah when Emily saved me.

“Being single is boring,” she huffed.

“Being in a relationship is hard,” I replied. We were both leaning up against the farthest wall from the rest of the people, opposite the entry way.

“True. Why do you think I limit my relationships to cats?” she pointed out.

I gave a single laugh, “Why do you think I limit my relationships to burglars?”

“Wait, I thought you had a thing with that Mateo guy?” she asked, looking over at me.

“I did, well, I do, but,” I struggled, “I don’t know. He’s a great guy it’s just-”

“Not the person you want?” she finished.

“I guess you could say that,” I agreed. “Plus, I didn’t really think this would be his scene.”

“I would have never guessed,” she joked, “But isn’t he the face of business for you or something?”

“How’d you figure that out?”

“Have you seen his face?”

“I’ve seen more than his face,” I smirked.

That elicited a laugh, “I’m sure.”

“I know people think I’m crazy-”

“Probably because you are,” Emily cut in.

I gave her a mischievous smile and continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “But not crazy enough to bring a ring member to a federal agent get-together. Even though he is good at schmoozing, I just figured it wouldn’t feel right. I mean, I didn’t know how you’d all react to me bringing him and vice versa.”

“You weren’t worried about all of us though.” God I hate profilers.

“I just didn’t think it would be a good idea, that’s all,” I defended.

“Apparently Penelope did,” Emily mused, nodding her head toward the door. Stepping in was Penelope in a very lavish pink and yellow dress with Deen at her arm.

“Oh my god,” I said, shaking my head as the two of them approached us. “Deen, you’re here. I can’t believe you let her drag you to this.”

“She could drag me anywhere,” he smiled, and the three of us laughed.

“I know. So clearly no heart attacks yet,” I teased.

“What?” Penelope intervened.

“Aundreya, for real?” Deen’s shoulders tensed a little.

I gave him a cheeky smile and wiggled my eyebrows, turning to Penelope, “Back when we were at the hospital, you and I, Deen and I talked about him asking you on a date. He told me that he nearly choked when he saw you in work attire and he’d probably have a heart attack and die if you ever dressed up for a date.”

“Oh no, that definitely happened the first time,” Penelope confirmed, nodding her head enthusiastically.

“I’m my defense … look at her,” Deen said.

“Oh I know,” Penelope said as Deen kissed her on the cheek. I could tell they were getting caught up in their own world, and felt like I was intruding somehow.

“Well I am going to leave the two of you to it,” I started moving away as Penelope giggled.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I found myself walking toward the bar again when Derek caught me. “Aundreya, I want you to meet Savannah.”

I was going to shake her hand, but she went in for a hug instead. I obliged, trying not to seem awkward about it. I asked about her job and she told me all about how much she loved helping people and how amazing her coworkers were, and the whole time Derek was just giving her the biggest heart eyes I’d ever seen. I was going to call him out on it, but Savannah was a smart woman, I’m sure she saw that for herself. Plus, when I was contemplating embarrassing Derek, Spencer and Maeve mosied on over.

I tried, I really did, but I’m terrible at composing my more bitter emotions.

“Hey guys,” Derek sang, “It’s great to see you, Maeve.” They hugged and he introduced her to Savannah and then the eyes were on me.

“Hey, Maeve,” I cautiously greeted, “It’s been a while.”

“Yes it has, and I’m so happy to see that you’re doing well,” she said, scanning me. I still had a lot of injuries, but I opted to wear something that would cover all of me except my face, which I used a heavy load of makeup on. I’m sure the ladies could tell that I was trying to cover something up, but it was better than them seeing the actual bruises and cuts.

“Thanks and same to you,” I gestured toward her with my hand.

“So, Maeve, tell me what you do,” Savannah prompted.

“Oh, well I’m a geneticist. I’ve recently been working on a new project in the lab that’s been eating up most of my time. Luckily, Spencer’s been able to help when he has the time,” Maeve smiled, patting Spencer on the chest.

“That’s cool that the two of you can work on something together,” Savannah said.

“Yeah it has been really nice. We’re able to bounce ideas off of each other, and it’s refreshing that we both understand the time commitment of the other’s job, including late nights and being away for a while. I’m sure you and Derek get it, you’re a nurse, right?” Maeve asked.

I started zoning out, thinking about what Spencer had told me about the two of them. Maeve seemed as happy as ever, and didn’t act like they were having any sort of problems at all. The way Spencer made it sound, it was a mostly mutual decision to take a step back from each other with Maeve not staying over as much. However, based off of what I’d just heard from her, she was just staying late or overnight at work. Two very different narratives.

Is Maeve covering up their issues with work? Was Spencer telling me the whole truth? If things were going good and they were happy together, why was he acting sad when he told me that they weren’t spending as much time together? What is going on?

I was confused and not invested in the conversation at all, which didn’t go unnoticed. Spencer side-eyed me, but I slunk away before things could get weirder.

I had just grabbed another drink when Spencer approached me. “I can tell you’re upset-”

“I’m not,” I nonchalantly interjected, “Just confused.”

“The reason I didn’t-”

“Dinner is served!” Rossi announced, and everyone started filing into the dining room.

I saw Maeve giving Spencer doe eyes from across the room as Derek and Savannah moved toward their seats.

“No need. Your very happy and invested girlfriend is waiting for you,” I rushed, before sliding past him toward the dining room. I took a seat between Emily and Tara (it was the single ladies section of the table apparently), and lucky for me, I was across from Spencer and Maeve. Typical.

“I’d like to make a toast,” Rossi announced, clinking his glass. We all fell silent, “I was just joking earlier that usually, I like cooking in my kitchen by myself. And while that still reigns true, especially because I’m not sure how many of you have ever seen a kitchen before,” that gained some laughter and he winked at me, “I realized that gatherings like these are very special. Having everyone here in the same room with their loved ones is something taken too often for granted. Here’s to family.”

A chorus of ‘to family’ and ‘cheers’ rang throughout the room. Dishes started being passed around as everyone scooped out their portion, casual conversation breaking out.

After a few minutes of that, it was Derek who was clinking his glass. “We have an announcement to make, if that’s alright with you.”

We waited expectantly as him and Savannah smiled at each other. Savannah held us in suspense for another moment before saying, “We’re pregnant!”

As people, including myself, started cheering and giving our congratulations, Derek spoke over us, “And I’ve just completed renovation on my eighth property, which is where we will be moving into.”

“Wow guys, that’s amazing,” JJ said, taking Savannah’s hand from across the table.

“I’m really happy for you,” Tara said, “Have you thought of any names?”

“For the house?” Derek joked, “I was thinking Ted, or Bill, or maybe-”

“No, we haven’t,” Savannah nudged Derek, causing him to laugh.

“Well, while we’re sharing big news,” Maeve drew our attention to her and Spencer, “We’ve found a little house to move into as well.”

Just when I started enjoying this meal.

“That’s amazing you guys, where is it?” Emily asked her. I wasn’t paying attention to her answer though. I was just staring at Spencer, who was trying and failing to act calm, the discomfort evident in his eyes.

My attention wasn’t drawn back to the conversation until Maeve said, “And Aundreya, I just wanted to thank you again, because-”

“Don’t thank me.” I am really fucking terrible at keeping it together. My voice was too harsh. I tried to save myself by adding, “I was just doing my job,” but I couldn’t resist the line that followed, “I’m only now realizing how much that’s cost me.”

No one said a word, the once bubbly mood of the group being ground under the sole of my shoe in seconds. But it actually wasn’t me who got things moving again. It was Spencer. He stood up, dropping his napkin on the table, “I can’t do this.”

He stormed out of the dining room, Maeve on his heels in seconds calling ‘baby’ after him. I don’t know why I stood up, but the moment I did, I sat back down.

“Nuh uh,” Emily said, yanking me to my feet again, “Get up, bitch.”

“What the hell?”

“I told you to just tell him how you really felt!” Emily exclaimed.

“I told you to stop running,” Aaron nonchalantly added.

“I told you to stop torturing yourself,” Rossi added onto the list.

“I basically asked you if you loved him, and you didn’t say no,” Penelope grinned.

“And I told you that you meant everything to him,” Derek shrugged, leaning back in his chair, “But I also said you were just stubborn, blind, and stupid.”

“Derek!” Savannah whacked him.

“What?” he put his hands up, “I came home and told you all this. You agreed with me at the time!”

“Damn, I get it,” I said, ending the list of cues I’d missed or deliberately ignored.

“Not like anybody listened to me,” JJ interjected, “But I said this was a bad idea.”

“Not now, JJ,” Rossi scolded. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.

Emily put both hands on my shoulders, “I swear to god, Aundreya, if you don’t go out there right now and fix this by telling him the truth, you will have a whole new thing coming for you.”

I looked at her, and then at the rest of the on-edge, dare I say excited, faces of everyone sitting at the table (minus JJ), and relented, “If I didn’t fucking love you all so goddamned much, I’d hit every single one of you.”

“That’s the spirit,” Derek cheered. Savannah gave him another look, but then smiled to herself, shaking her head.

I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, then marched outside. I looked around trying to find Spencer and Maeve for a moment before seeing them halfway up the street. I started a slight jog toward them and caught the end of Spencer’s sentence, “-but I do.”

His eyes flicked to mine and Maeve turned so she could look at us both. “Don’t you see. The way you’re looking at her right now is not the same way you look at me.” Spencer was about to argue, but she held her hand up. “Spencer, I’m not mad. I’m hurt because I’ve always had this feeling that you loved her more than me, I’m just sad it took you this long to realize it, too.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Maeve,” Spencer regretfully whispered, looking down at his hands.

“I know,” she melodically responded, “But I want you to be happy. You two should be together after everything you’ve been though. I know that the majority of the time you were spending with me, you were thinking about her, if not about where she was and how you could find and save her, then just about being with her. I would be hurting you if I got in the way of that.”

“Maeve, I-”

“I know,” she cut him off again, “But this time, to her.” Both of them looked at me expectantly. Spencer’s eyes flickered between Maeve and myself, clearly uncertain of what to do. “Go ahead, it’s not going to hurt me anymore.”

“Aundreya,” he said. He hesitated a moment longer, giving regretful eyes to Maeve before turning his attention back to me. “I love you.”

My heart hammered and I couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing. “And you?” Maeve prompted.

And then it all came tumbling out, “First, Maeve, I wanted to apologize. You’re an exceptional woman and I’ve been nothing but bitter towards you. You didn’t deserve that because you always handled everything with such grace and I can’t imagine how it must’ve felt to get shamed by me for being with him and how it must feel right now-”

“Thank you,” she stopped me. “I just want Spencer to be happy, and if that’s with you, then that’s what should happen. I just need to know that you’ll take care of him.”

“Absolutely,” I assured her.

“Good,” she smiled sadly. She started walking away but paused for just a second when she was right next to me. “I believe it’s your turn.”

I turned my gaze back to Spencer, who looked broken and hopeful all at the same time. God I was going to pass out. “Spencer, I should have told you this a long time ago, but I was too scared. You had Maeve and I thought that I wasn’t good for you.”

“You are good for me,” he said, taking my hands. “Please, just say it.”

“I love you, Spencer Reid,” I confessed, and before I could even release a sigh of relief, my breath was taken away. His lips were on mine before I could blink, like every cell in his body was waiting for this moment. It was one of those time-stopping kisses that made me feel like the only other person in existence. His hands were cupping my face and mine were around his neck, moving to his hair. His tongue slid into my mouth as I sighed into him. I felt warm and light, but I couldn’t tell if it was the feeling or the lack of oxygen to my brain. Not like it mattered to me. When we pulled away, there was some hooting and hollering coming from the general direction of Rossi’s house. I should’ve known better when they encouraged me to go out there. I went back in for another kiss, moving one of my hands away from Spencer’s curls for a few seconds in order to flip the rest of them off. I heard some laughing, so I knew they’d seen it.

“I waited way too to do that,” I mumbled against his lips, trying to contain the grin that turned my lips.

“Me too,” Spencer said, slightly breathless.

As we walked back toward the house, arms around each other, Derek was giving us a slow clap, “Well if it isn’t pretty boy and gang girl.”

“I said kick your ass, Morgan, and I am more than awake now,” I reminded him.

“I’d say it’s about damn time,” Rossi’s voice cut in, sounding annoyed, but the smirk on his face was all I needed to know.

“That’s for sure,” Emily playfully agreed, smiling brightly, “But they’re good together.”

“Bullshit,” Derek corrected, “They’re great.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

A/N2: I hope you all enjoyed this series and thank you so much for taking this crazy ride with Aundreya! I had a ton of fun writing it and I hope you had just as much reading it. For those of you interested, I still have an epilogue full of ideas that floated into my head about how their life would be like after they finally got together, and what happens with some of the rest of the characters, along with what I hope to be a very steamy bonus chapter! Otherwise, this was the end for these two stubborn, trouble-bound lovebirds. Please talk to me or send me asks about your thoughts on the ending or anything else that happened during their story! Much love! ❤️🥰

Series Taglist

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

[the-weeping-author]

Trick or Treat Brandon.

A/N: I love Halloween so here’s a Halloween fic it is scary. I hope Im pretty happy with this fic and I hope you all are to, I hope it’s puts you in the scary Halloween spirit.

This fic is for @moonlit-imagines writing challenge

Tag list: @ahoy-stevieboy @thehair-ington @linkispink1995 @harringtown @violet-dahlia @gardeniasandwhiskey @lxvesickreality @bluebellbrooke @thenameishayley248 @pappydaddy @simplesammyx @didyouputyournameinthegob @lenassaviorsblog @wolphielautz

Wanrings: 18+, Gore, Blood, cussing, Graphic. So font read it easily scared, squeamish. Might get you paranoid idk 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Wordcount: 4,971

Please enjoy 😊

Steve was sitting on his couch, like usual his parents weren’t home. When Steve saw me he started to clam up, it immediately made my suspicions shoot sky high. He either was up to something or he did something he did without asking me. I guess I was about to find out which one it was.

“Hey Steve how was your day babe?”

Steve looked at me, smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders at me.

“It was okay I just missed you at school today.”

I smiled, I walked over to him.

“Awe baby it’s okay I just had a doctors appointment, but I’ll be there tomorrow.”

I smiled at him, I plopped on the couch beside him. I leaned on his shoulder, he kissed my forehead letting out a sigh.

“So Babe I might as well tell you I told some of our friends we’d go to a party they are throwing on Halloween.”

I lifted my head up off of him, I let out a groan.

“Steve, why would you do that? You know how I feel about your friends. Are Nancy and Johnathan gonna go?”

He looked down at me, shrugged his shoulders. He ran his fingers through his hair, stood up from the couch, walked over to the phone then punched in the numbers.

“Hey Johnathan Y/N was wondering if y’all were going to the party tonight?”

“Oh okay well I’ll tell her. Yeah alright I’ll see you around bye.”

Steve hung the phone up, he turned to look at me.

“Sorry babe they can't, they already had plans.”

“It’s okay I’ll guess I’ll just go for you babe.”

He kissed my lips, then walked to the kitchen. I stood up, walked into the kitchen kissing his lips.

“You owe me Harrington.”

It was finally Halloween, Steve and I had woken up early enough to go get last minute pieces for our costumes. We had a party to go to tonight. It was at an abandoned farm, a couple of our friends were going, so we’re we. Now it was out of town, but Steve and I didn’t mind. Plus it was a weekend so neither one of us was worried about school, or homework. Steve and I were surprising each other with what we were going to be. I was going as Madonna, all I knew told me he was going to look hot. Which I already knew, I mean not that he needed to try to look hot. He was already hot well at least to me, every other girl at Hawkins.

So you can imagine the disappointment the girls had when they found out we were dating. Steve was currently in our bathroom changing, I was in the hallway bathroom changing. I heard footsteps go past the bathroom, stopping right in front of the door then I heard Steve's voice.

“Hey babe I’ll be in the living room when you get ready.”

“Okay Steve I’ll see you in a few.”

I finished my hair, I pulled on my skirt some. I then unlocked the bathroom door, I stepped out into the hallway. I walked into the living room, I saw Steve my eyes widen as the sleeves of his shirt hugged his arms, god it made me wanna hop his bones. I had more self control than that though, but Steve on the other hand his mouth was gaped open. His eyes were looking all around my body, he smiled at me and walked over to me.

“Y/N you look hot.”

My cheeks heated up, Steve kissed my cheek. Steve and I walked out the front door, he locked up, and we were off to the car. Something felt off, but I just shrugged it off. I mean a lot of bad things happened in Hawkins so I had to get used to not feeling completely okay anymore. As we drove closer and closer to the party I felt like we should be heading in the other direction. At the same moment a car sped past us, laid on his horn which made me jump halfway off my seat. Steve had looked at me, put his hand on my thigh.

“Hey Y/N are you okay?”

I looked over at him, nodded my head.

“Yeah Steve I’m fine I just… there’s just a feeling inside of me that we shouldn’t be going to this party.”

“Oh okay princess well if you want to go home we can.”

I looked at him, smiled and shook my head at him.

“No no it’s okay I’m sure I’m just being dramatic.”

He looked at me, raised his eyebrows.

“Are you sure cause I don’t mind turning around.”

“No no Steve it’s okay I promise I’m fine.”

“Okay if you insist Y/N.”

The rest of the car ride was pretty fun, it honestly eased my mind. It was like Steve was my anxiety cure.

I couldn’t ask for a better way to help calm me. When we pulled up to the barn my anxiety was back. The barn was a brick red like it had just been painted. The house was also kept in good condition I mean besides the grass. I’d love to live here with Steve one day but I honestly didn’t want to rush it.

College was in two years, I didn’t want to go to a different college as Steve I wanted us to be with each other. I gripped Steve’s hand tightly, he looked down at me. He smiled, kissed my forehead and I took a deep breath. The farm was beautiful except the grass which looked like it hadn’t been cut in a few months, It just looked abandoned. Steve and I walked into the back yard, we saw The huge corn field. It was really intimidating.

The only people I knew here were Emma, Josh, Tommy H, Carol, Jack, Ashley, Steve and I, but people sure did show up. If I had to guess I would say at least 500 students had showed up. I saw all types of costumes, I was excited but one guy held my attention. He was standing against the drink table, he was just staring at everyone. He wasn’t interacting, but he was probably one of the guys who thought they were too cool to party.

As the night went on the party had died down slowly but surely. Steve and I were slow dancing, he looked down at me, he smiled pushing some of my now deflated hair out of my face.

“I told you, you’d have a fun time Y/N.”

I looked up at him, let out a drunken snort.

“Did you basically just tell me you told me so Harrington?”

He cracked a smile, kissed my lips.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

Steve kissed me again then pulled away, he got close to my ear and raised his voice so he could be heard over the music. I nodded my head. I watched him drunkenly stumble away, after he stumbled a little bit into the corn I felt eyes on me. At first I convinced myself that I was just over reacting, but then the feeling became stronger. Not only did I feel eyes on me but I felt tension. So I turned around and I saw him. It was the same guy who was leaning on the drink table. He was just staring at me. I smiled lightly, waved at him. He turned away from me, he walked into the cornfield.

*Killers pov*

I heard a car door shut, I walked to the side of the window. I barely looked out of it, I saw a group of teenagers walking towards the cornfield. I grabbed my knife, as the last kid went into the cornfield I followed them. They had walked about a mile and a half into the field. When they finally got to the party area I saw four huge speakers around the perimeter, the music was blaring. There were drinks being poured, food being eaten. I watch from behind the corn, I’d figured I’d show these kids how to party.

It took awhile for the other teenagers to separate from one another, I knew who my victims were going to be. A young guy who didn't look any older than 17 wandered off, I quickly followed him. It’s not like anyone knew I was here, I knew the paths in the corn maze because I lived here. I grabbed my knife, while he was peeing I walked up behind him slitting his throat from ear to ear. I watched his lifeless carcass lay there unable to move, I watched the life slowly fade out of his eyes. I drug his body where I knew no one would look.

After I knew his body wouldn’t be recovered I went back to the group, I hid the knife in my hoodie pocket. I walked over to the drink table, that’s when I saw a Y/H/C haired girl with a brown haired boy. The girl was staring at me. She smiled tightly, continuing with their night. Little did they know mine just started and it wasn’t going to end anytime soon. I drank a few drinks, I saw the girl that was with the guy I killed went looking for him. I knew she was going to be my next victim, I didn’t have any remorse about who I killed. I didn’t care who I was taking them from.

I can just say they all were at the wrong place at the wrong time. I had only one goal and that was to kill them all. There was a couple here who I knew would be my last victims, and that was the boy dressed as Han Solo and the girl dressed as Madonna. They looked like they’d be fun to torture, but the only question was which one of them would be my last victim? My focus was back on the girl who was dressed as some work out girl. I snuck up behind her, I covered her mouth stabbing her in the back. I slid the knife out, jammed it back in.

After her body went limp I let her hit the floor, I drug her body further in the shed. I cut off her hands, then I continued to dismember her body. When I was done I cleaned myself off, the knife when I rejoined the party, no one seemed to notice that two of their friends had disappeared. I noticed some of the kids started to leave as it got later, I was honestly relieved when I saw my planned victims still here. So I decided it was officially time to play. I loved playing cat and mouse especially with people who had no idea that they were the mouse.

As the night went on the more teenagers died. I made some of my own Halloween decorations. One kid was my official scarecrow, let’s just say he was definitely going to scare people away. His death was my favorite death so far. The way his neck cracked when I broke it gave me a thrill, the way I felt him struggle against me made my adrenaline race. I wanted more, I needed more and I was far from done. There were only six teenagers left. Four girls and four guys, but I had to be smart about this if I just popped out they could all take me on easily. So I went into the bar, I grabbed the knife. After getting that I circled around to the front of the house where their cars were parked, walked up to their cars digging my knife into all sixteen tires.

Now they were stuck here with me, the best part was they didn’t have a clue. I snuck back to the party, I noticed a couple was missing. I went to the bar, grabbed the Axe that was hanging near the handsaw, pitchfork. I walked out the back of the barn, came face to face with a guy. Before he could even think I swung the axe, his head went flying across the yard, near the huge oak tree. The girl which I’m guessing is his girlfriend came out from the other side of the shed, when she saw her boyfriend's head near the tree she screamed. I quickly walked over to her, punched her in the face striking her left temple.

I drug her body to the root of the three, and start stomping her head on the root. I could hear her teeth break as I stomped, I picked her head up by her hair, and started viciously beating her face against the tree. It was satisfying to hear her nose break. The more I beat her face the more her bones broke. Soon enough as blood trailed from her eyes, mouth, and ears her skull cracked, pieces of Brain went all over the place. At this point I didn’t need to hide the bodies anymore. They couldn't escape even if they tried, I picked up the axe I had, then I put more of the teenagers bodies up as decorations. I cut the guy's eyes out, I used him as a Jack O’lantern. I sat the girl at a table that was in another section of the cornfield.

I guess you could say it was like a maze, but these teenagers were smart. They knew their way in and out of an easy corn maze, but what they weren’t expecting was their friends to be so hands on with the maze. Now all I had to do was lure the last two couples away from my last two victims, I was good to go. I walked into the corn maze, back to the party. I whispered something, the drunk girl turned towards me, I backed up into the corn maze. Of course she followed me, the alcohol made her curious and it got the best of her.

As soon as she stepped into the corn I killed her. As I drug her towards the table with the good China on it I sat her in the chair. Sitting her up as a decoration, I fixed the fingers that I chopped off and put them on a plate, I used the other empty plate for their ears. Now we just needed “tea” to finish the decorations, so that’s what I intended to do next. As I snuck back to the cornfield a guy saw me, I was covered in blood. He immediately took notice. He told his friends, but they didn’t believe him in fact they laughed at him. The guy got mad, walked off.

As he walked off I heard my last two victims talking to my next two.

“Can you believe that guy Tommy?”

“Yeah I know Steve he really thinks we are that stupid to feed into his Halloween prank?”

I didn’t hear the rest cause I walked away. I knew the last two guys' names were Tommy, and Steve. I heard footsteps near me, I turned seeing the guy who had walked off immediately. He hit me, I tasted a rich copper taste in my mouth. I quickly wiped at my lip, struck him in the throat. As he was gasping for air I grabbed his head, I raised my knee slamming his face directly into the center of my knee. The force sent his body back, he was lying on his back. I grabbed his feet, drug him to the same exact spot I did the last girl, but when he started to wake up I punched him in his temple, I opened his mouth, cut out his tongue. I leaned him over the big tea pot, let the blood flow into it.

As soon as I felt his pulse slowing down I dressed him up in overalls, put a straw hat on him. I dressed the other two couples up to match him, I knew it was time to get this over with. I poured the blood in each cup, I put their hands on the tea cups. I walked back to the shed, grabbed a few weapons that would make this process faster, but how they died would still be on my terms. I grabbed the pitchfork, I hid it under some of the hay that was in the maze. After setting the next few traps it was time to reveal myself, I was near the entrance of the party. The first to see me was the girl dressed as Madonna. She grabbed the boy dressed as Han Solo, then he got the attention of the other two. As soon as they all saw me I pulled out the machet.

it took them a minute to figure out why I had a machete, but when they did I could see the panic set in. They split up, I couldn’t have been happier. My focus wasn’t on Steve and the girl, but it was focused on Tommy and his girlfriend. I walked towards them, they ran down the other opening of the maze, well I knew that was going to happen, I followed them. Tommy was running, I just stood there. I knew what was going to happen, sure enough it happened. Tommy had tripped on some fishing line I put up, his face met my pitchfork. His girlfriend let out a scream, I heard the other two calling For her.

“Carol? Carol where are you?”

Carol looked at me, wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Why are you Doing this?”

I smirked at her, I walked slowly towards her.

“Oh carol you think I need a motive? It’s scarier when you don’t have one.”

I smiled at her, she took off. I ran after her though. She was almost close enough to grab. so I pushed her down, but when I turned her around she threw dirt in my face, kneed me in the balls. I immediately dropped, wiped the dirt out of my eyes. As soon as my vision came back I stood up, and was on the hunt. As soon as I turned the corner Carol popped out, smacked me with a wood beam. This little bitch wasn’t going down without a fight, if it was a fight she wanted it was a fight I was going to give her. When she went to swing the beam again I ducked, and stabbed her in the leg.

She let out a scream, I stabbed her in the cheek. As I pulled the knife out she grabbed her cheek, spit blood in my face. I grabbed her by her hair, she was a fighter but she wouldn’t win against me. I brought her back to the shed, I lined her up with the hook that was hanging in the shed, I lifted her up then shoved her body on the hook. She let out a gut wrenching scream, I put the wood chipper under her. I went to look for the other two.

*Readers pov*

I ran with Steve, we hid behind the tractor. I heard Carol scream, I jumped slightly grabbing Steve's hand. Tears had formed in my eyes when I heard her scream. He was touring her. Steve had peaked around the tree, saw him going into the cornfield. Next thing I knew we were heading towards the shed. We saw Carol hanging, my hand flew over my mouth. I couldn’t imagine the pain she was in, Steve and I went over to her, she was limp. When we started trying to get her down she let out a scream. I jumped slightly, Steve was trying to get her to be quiet. As soon as Steve almost got her down the woodchipper turned on.

As soon as Steve had gotten Carol down she struggled and he lost his grips her body went into the woodchipper, blood flew all over me. I closed my eyes as her warm blood flew all over me. As soon as I opened them I saw pieces of her body all over the place. As soon as I went to say something the back of the shed was kicked open, there was the killer. Steve grabbed my hand, ran towards the cars. As soon as we got there we saw the tires were flat. Steve looked at me, I looked towards the house.

“Steve we need to get into the house.”

Steve looked at me, raised his eyebrow.

“Y/N are you crazy that’s the first place he’s going to look.”

I let out a sigh, then looked at Steve.

“Well Steve we don’t really have much of an option now do we?”

He sighed then nodded his head.

“Alright let’s go, quickly so he doesn’t know where we went.”

As we walked up the porch Steve had grabbed the door knob, the door opened. It felt too easy, I was right as soon as we opened the door the killer grabbed me. Steve looked at us both, then put his hands in the air.

“Hey, hey she’s an easy kill you don’t want her. If you want someone who’s going to give you a fight it’s me.”

As soon as Steve had the killer's attention I stomped on his toe, head butted him slamming the side of my head into him, when he let go I faced him, kicked him in the knee cap making him fall. His knee hit the step, his chin hit the top step. Steve and I rushed inside, shut the door. Steve ran into the kitchen, I was right behind him. Steve grabbed a knife, I couldn’t find a weapon. So I grabbed a cast iron skillet. As soon as the killer stepped into the kitchen I swung the skillet with all my might and hit him right in the face.

He stumped back grabbing his nose as it started to bleed. He grabbed the knife that was in his pocket, threw it at me. It hit my leg and it got stuck. I dropped the Iron skillet, quickly pulled out the knife. I let out a scream, I dropped the knife and limped over to the killer. He grabbed my ankle, I turned towards him and lifted up my leg. I swung my leg back, I kicked him right in the jaw. He let go of my leg, I limped up the stairs. When I turned around Steve was behind me, I started down the stairs.

When I got down to them I saw The killer trying to get into the pantry where I assumed Steve was. Let out a scream to get his attention which worked, then he was after me. I hopped up the stairs as fast as I could, I felt him grab at my costume, as soon as I went to get away from him he punched me in the back causing me to fall. He turned me around, I kicked him down the stairs. I scrambled to my feet, I limped down the hallway into a room. I walked into the room, I shut the door. The floorboards would freak the more weight I put on them.

I tried to walk as quietly as I could, but with this leg injury it was nearly impossible. I heard the door knob wiggle, I limped over to the closet. Walking in it but before I could get in it two skeletons fell out the closet, I let out a scream. The door busted open, I whipped around looking face to face with the killer. I took in a deep breath, looked at him.

“If you want me here I am mother fucker get it over with.”

He ran at me, tackled me out the door. We landed on the balcony, he leaned over me wrapping his hands around my throat, I started struggling against him. I saw a piece of the door on the floor, I reached for it but I couldn’t get it. I finally came to grips that I wouldn’t see Steve anymore. I wouldn’t see my little brother, I wouldn’t see my mother. I wouldn’t see another day again. This is how it was going to end and I was fine with it.

As soon as I gave into the idea of death his grip loosen around my throat, I opened my eyes to see him and Steve fighting. All I had to do was look at Steve to get that fighting spirit back, that was because Steve looked like shit. He had blood on running down his lip, his once white sleeve was now soaked red. I grabbed the largest part of the door and it had a rusty nail poking out of it. I picked it up, I swung as hard as I could. I heard a thump then I heard another thump. I walked to the edge of the balcony, I looked down to see the killer laying there. He wasn’t moving, Steve had put his arm around my shoulder, I looked at him then smiled.

“Let’s go home please.”

“Fine by me baby.”

Steve and I walked down the stairs, out the front door I walked to the car, I grabbed my purse out of it. Then I started walking down the driveway when it hit me. The other cars probably had spare tires in them. I looked at Steve, told him they probably had spare tires in the back. We walked back to the cars, I opened Steve’s trunk while he went to find something to get the other cars trunks open. As soon as I turned to get out the car the killer had grabbed my throat and began to choke me. I grabbed my purse, I got my pepper spray out, I sprayed him in the eyes. when he let go I gasped for breath, I grabbed the Jack I stepped out of the car, I hit him in his face with the Jack knocking him out.

When Steve came back he had rope along with a crowbar, I looked at Steve, he looked at the killer on the ground.

“W-what happened?”

I looked at him, took in a breath.

“Well I thought he was dead but apparently not so I knocked him out with the Jack, give me the rope so I can tie him up.”

When he handed me the rope I grabbed the jack to the car and hit him again. I turned him on his stomach, I tied up his arms along with his feet. After an hour or so of Steve opening the trunks and changing the tires. The killer finally came to. He started struggling, I walked over to him and I kicked him in the face.

“Steve I think I saw a gas station down the road when we came here. Drive down there and call the cops.”

He looked at me, he shook his head.

“Y/N I’m not leaving you here with him. What if he gets loose?”

I looked at Steve, I smirked.

“Then the cops will have another body to take to the morgue.”

He nodded then got in the car and started up. He put the car in reverse and took off. I let out a breath of air, I heard him laughing. I walked over to him, I turned him on his back.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

He looked at me, he spit on me. I stood back up, I kicked him in the stomach. He let out a groan, he started laughing again. I got pissed, I stood up and started kicking him. He continued to laugh as I kicked him but he started choking, When he coughed hard He coughed up blood.

“Not so funny now is it?”

He looked at me, he smiled.

I stood back up, I heard Steve pull back up. He got out of the car, looked at me.

“Y/N get away from him.”

“Yeah Y/N get away from me, be a good girl for Steve.”

I kicked him in the face again, just as I went to kick again Steve pulled me away from him.

About fifteen minutes later the police showed up. After they discovered all the bodies they arrested the killer, they started reading him his rights. They took us to the ambulance, I heard one of the officers say his name, I looked at Steve and he nodded at me. I called an officer over, I looked at him.

“Officer did he say why he did that to my friends.”

He looked at me and moved his hat some.

“Well miss Y/L/N Brandon escaped from the mental hospital and it took your friends and you to come here to hit a nerve.”

I nodded my head, I watched him walk back to the squad car. When they were pulling he looked at us smiling, I smiled back and then flicked him off.

“Happy Halloween Brandon.”

Three days after we got out of the hospital Steve and I had got back to his house Steve and I were sitting on the couch snuggled up watching a movie, I kissed his cheek.

“Thank you.”

He smiled at me then looked at me.

“For what?”

I looked at him, shrugged.

“For not leaving me.”

He smiled at me, kissed my lips.

“Y/N you’re the love of my life I couldn’t ever leave you.”

I smiled, I took in a deep breath. We would recover from this but it would take a while, but I knew with Steve by my side that would be completely possible.

A/N: thank you guys for reading this I’m really proud of it. I hope you guys liked it.

[pitubea1910]

Something Just Like This

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: -

Tags: -

Request: -

Notes: I had this little thing on my mind that I wanted to share with you guys, I hope you like it! It is based on the Coldplay song Something just like this, which I can’t get out of my head lately :)  Feedback is appreciated!

MASTERLIST

Growing up in Manhattan wasn’t as exciting as Gossip Girl pictured it to be. There were no parties every day, no gossip, no drama. At least not for you. Your parents had been quite strict since you were little, which meant that they hadn’t given you the freedom most of your friends had. It wasn’t like you wanted to do drugs or have sex at the age of 16, but you couldn’t help but feeling a bit left out every Monday morning at high school when all your friends talked about was last Saturday party.

That was probably the main reason why you moved out as soon as you could. And that was when you turned 18 and your parents allowed you to go to college in England. That first taste of freedom was much better than what you had expected. You could do anything you wanted, whenever you wanted and with whoever you wanted. Needless to say that you took full advantage of it.

You loved that life without your parents so much that, when you finally went back to New York, at the age 25, you told your parents you didn’t want to live with them anymore. Of course, they were enraged, but once you found a job that allowed you to pay for your own rent, they couldn’t find any other way to keep you at home. Eventually, they even contributed with your rent so you could afford a place that was ‘right for a classy woman like you are’, like your mum said.

At first, you even fought against it but who were you going to lie? You weren’t a fan of your neighbourhood in Queens. Neither you wanted to go back to Manhattan, but you found a lovely apartment in Brooklyn, with views to the Bridge, big windows and an open plan living room and kitchen. The moment you saw it, you fell in love with it and you didn’t want to visit any other apartment. By the end of the week, you were moving all your stuff into your new place.

Only if you knew how much your life was going to change thanks to that apartment.

You had been living in your Brooklyn apartment for two years when you met him. He happened to live in the building next to yours and your windows were in front of each other. The first time you saw him, putting boxes down in the room as he talked to a read-headed woman, you immediately recognised him: Steve Rogers, aka Captain America.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that you ran into him when you were coming home from the grocery store on a Sunday morning and he was coming back from a run. You weren’t even paying attention to the crosswalk, too busy trying to get your keys out of your pocket without dropping the bag of groceries.

“Do you need a hand with that?”

You looked up to find a pair of blue eyes looking at you with humour in them. You had got so used to see him from your window or on TV that it felt weird to have him standing in front of you. And it all was better because he was wearing one of those grey t-shirts you had seen him wearing so many times. The ones that looked too small for him, but he still could pull off effortlessly.

“Actually I do”, you finally said with a smile.

Without another word, he took the brown bag from your hand so you finally could take the keys from your pocket. 

“Finally”, you said showing him the keys. “They were hooked on a loose thread”, you explained.

“I figured that much”, he nodded. “You live here, don’t you?” He asked pointing at the door of your building. You gave him a surprise look. “I’ve seen your through the window.”

“Okay…”, you chuckled, kind of glad that you weren’t the only one creepily looking through the window trying to catch a glimpse of him.

“And that was creepier than I expected”, he said with an awkward smile.

“Don’t worry”, you laughed. “I’ve seen you too”, you shrugged.

“I guess we’re a pair of creeps then”, he said making you laugh again. “Does the creep have a name?”

Smooth, you thought to yourself with a small smile.

“(Y/N) Holston”, you said and took some hair out of your face.

“Steve Rogers”, he said, although you already knew. “Do you need some help with this?” He asked lifting the bag he was still carrying.

“Oh, no”, you quickly said. “Don’t bother, I can take it.”

“It’s no bother”, he shrugged. “I can take it up for you.”

“I’m sure you have some avenging thing to do”, you said. He laughed out loud and nodded.

“Don’t worry”, he said. “No avenging today. The world looks pretty safe.”

You bite your lip, wondering whether to accept his help or not. He looked really nice and not creepy at all. And you had seen him so many times in his own bedroom that he felt almost familiar, so why not?

“Okay”, you finally said. “I can take the bag, though.”

“Then I wouldn’t have any excuse to keep on talking to you”, he said, walking with you to the door of your building.

“I didn’t know you were looking for an excuse”, you said, taking the right key and opening the door.

“I’ve been looking for one since I first saw you in your room, so don’t take it away from me”, he said with more confident than he actually felt.

The statement made your cheeks blush. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just let him walk in first and followed behind. Although you were glad that you weren’t the only one wanting to talk to your neighbour and not knowing how. At least he had found a good excuse to do it and you were glad he had.

“Wow…” he said when he walked into the apartment after you made your way upstairs silently. “Fancier than it looks on the outside.”

“It was renovated a few years ago”, you told him and took the bag from his arms after closing the door. “Actually I was one of the first tenants here.”

“How long have you been here?” He asked, walking towards the big windows from where you could see the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Two years now”, you told him, taking the items out of the bag. “I was living in Queens for a time but I didn’t feel… like home, I guess.”

“I know a kid from Queens who’s actually pretty nice”, he said, now walking to the aisle that separated the living room from the kitchen.

“Yeah, people are nice”, you nodded. “But not my neighbours”, you chuckled. “Also, I’m closer to my job here.”

“What’s your job?” He asked.

“I’m a content writer and social media manager for a small magazine”, you said, now putting what you had bought in their right places.

“Sounds…busy”, he chuckled.

“It’s not that big of a deal”, you said with a smile. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Do you have beer?” He asked.

“I’m not a beer kind of girl”, you chuckled. “But I have white wine?”

“That will do”, he nodded.

You took a couple of glasses and put them on the aisle in front of Steve. Then, you took the bottle of wine from the fridge and took the cork off before pouring some into both glass.

“Fancy”, he said when you put the bottle back into the fridge.

“It’s a really cheap wine”, you laughed, leaning against the counter. “But I love it.”

“Tastes good”, he nodded. “Although I barely drink wine, except on elegant dinners and that kind of stuff.”

“Do you go to a lot of those?” You asked teasingly. He laughed.

“Sometimes we have to”, he admitted. “And some other times Tony forces me to go”, he shrugged, making you smile.

“You look good in a suit, though”, you shrugged. He raised both eyebrows while looking at you, making you blush.

Actually, the main reason you knew how he looked like in a suit was because your mum was always sending you articles about all the galas she went to and, of course, Steve Rogers had gone to many of them. You would be lying if you admitted that you didn’t look at his photos closely, but who could blame you? He did look good in a suit.

“I don’t live under a rock”, you shrugged. “I read the newspaper from time to time.”

“I see”, he nodded with a small smile. You took the glass to your lips so you didn’t have to say anything else. “Anyway, I was thinking”, he suddenly said after finishing his glass. “You seem to know how to behave in fancy environments, don’t you?”

“What makes you think that?” You asked with a laugh.

“First, this apartment”, he said making a gesture that covered the place. “I bet you work really hard but I think that a content writer slash social media manager salary can’t afford this, which means that you’re family is… in good places, am I right?”

“You’re not wrong”, you said, surprised at how observant he was.

You didn’t feel entirely comfortable saying that your dad had insisted on buying the apartment a year after you moved in. It made you feel like one of those Manhattan spoiled rich kids, which you weren’t. Not at all. All you actually had to pay were the bills and your salary was more than enough for it.

“Also, who drinks wine at noon instead of beer?”

“A lot of people!” You exclaimed making him laugh.

“Honestly, I just saw you getting out of a black Audi with a driver last week”, he finally said.

Last week had been your mum’s birthday, so you had spent a whole day with them. At the end of it, you were ready to wait for an Uber, but your mum had your family driver -Albert- drive you home.

“Okay, fine”, you finally said, knowing there was no point on denying anything. “I was born in Manhattan. Rich family and all. I left to study in England and when I came back I didn’t want to keep on living with my parents, so I found a place in Queens.”

“But you didn’t like it”, he said, remembering what you had previously said.

“Exactly”, you nodded. “I found this apartment, which rent was way cheaper than what you probably think”, you said making him chuckle. “And I moved here. Anyway, my father has never liked me paying for anything so he bought the whole apartment a year after I moved”, you shrugged.

“Wow”, he said surprised.

“I know”, you sighed. “I’m not proud of it but at least I pay the bills and groceries and everything I can afford. So, to answer your question, I basically grew up in fancy environments. My mum used to drag me along to every single gala or whatever thing she had going on.”

“I think it’s great, to be honest”, he shrugged. “It doesn’t look like your father gave you too many options when he bought this place, so I think it’s admirable that you still work to pay the bills.”

“I hate owing him anything, so it’s the least I can do to have as much freedom as possible”, you explained. “Anyway, why did you ask?”

“You’ll probably say no and I completely understand”, he said. “But… Tony is holding another charity event at the MoMa this weekend and I have to be there, but I don’t want to go alone, you know?”

“The Stark Foundation MoMa Gala?” You asked, your boss had been going crazy trying to find someone to get into the gala to write an article about it.

“That’s the one”, he nodded. “Would you come with me?”

“Actually… my boss would love me if I could get in it”, you said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage or something”, you quickly said.

“Don’t worry”, he smiled. “It didn’t even cross my mind. So… would you?”

“Of course”, you nodded with a smile. “I’d love to be your date.”

“Is it a date?” He said, his smile bigger.

“I guess it is”, you shrugged, blushing once again.

That weekend you went together to the MoMa gala and it wasn’t the last time you had a date. You ended up getting together most nights of the week, either at his apartment or at yours, although mostly it was at yours. You would watch movies, cook together, play board games, any time off you both had was spent together.

So it was just a matter of time before something else happened and it did just a month later. You had been at Steve’s apartment since you came back from work and it was when you were saying goodbye at his door, that he finally took his chance and kissed you. It was a short and tender kiss, but it was enough to open the door for many more.

In two months you were officially dating and in three months he finally took you the Stark Tower to meet everyone. You couldn’t remember being more nervous than you were that day. Walking out of the elevator to find Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson just playing poker was something you never thought you would see, but they welcomed you into the family with open arms and soon you were playing poker with them.

Six months after meeting him, you thought you couldn’t be happier and neither did Steve. He was hanging in his apartment, picking up the clothes he would use for his date with you that night. You had called him that morning to tell him that you had managed to get tickets to go to the movies that night so it was only a matter of time before you arrived from your work to head to the cinema.

“You look like a little girl before her first date”, Bucky, who was with Steve in his apartment, said as he watched his best friend trying to decide which shirt would be better for that night.

“Leave me alone”, Steve said with a smile. He finally decided he would use the navy one, knowing how much you loved that colour on him.

“You really like her, right?” He asked. Steve smiled and nodded.

“I do”, Steve said. “I’ve never felt this happy, Buck. She… she completes me”, he tried to explain.

“I’m happy for you”, Bucky nodded. “But be careful.”

“Why?” Steve asked confused.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt, that’s all”, Bucky shrugged.

“(Y/N) would never hurt me.”

Bucky sighed and looked down at his shoes. That was Steve’s problem. Ever since the 40s he always thought that everyone was just good. It didn’t matter everything they had gone through, what he had gone through, he still through there was good in everyone.

“You’re the Captain America, Steve”, Bucky said.

“So?”

“What if she just likes the strips?”

“She’s not like that”, Steve shook his head, although he had to admit that it had never crossed his mind.

“How do you know that?” Bucky asked.

“I thought you liked her”, Steve frowned, crossing his arms.

“I do, but I want you to be careful”, Bucky repeated. “Anyway, I have to go. Sam needs some help winning a bet”

Steve walked Bucky to the door, his head still spinning from what Bucky had said. You didn’t care about him being Captain America… you liked him because of Steve Rogers, not the superhero. But what if you did? What if he wasn’t the Cap anymore? Would you still like him?

He wasn’t the insecure type, but he had never liked anyone the he liked you, and he suddenly worried about you not liking him the way he liked you. Maybe the last six months hadn’t meant the same for both of you and the idea of that being true broke his heart.

Just then, he heard his phone buzzing on top of the table. It was probably you telling him you had already gone out of the subway and were five minutes away. He took the phone and, indeed, he found your name on the screen. You were a few minutes away and he didn’t feel like going anywhere. With a heavy heart, he looked for your number and called you.

“Hey there!” You said happily on the other side. “I’m just a block away. I’m thinking about buying some snacks before going to the cinema?”

“I’m sorry but I’m not going to be able to make it tonight”, he said all of sudden. There was a small silence in the line.

“Oh…” you finally said. “What happened?”

“Tony called for an urgent meeting at the Tower”, he quickly said, coming up with that lie way faster than he expected.

“Okay”, you sighed. “Don’t worry about it. See you tomorrow?”

“I have to go to D.C”, he said. “I think we are going to be there a couple of days.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot”, you said.

You spoke to him so many times throughout the day that it was easy to say when there was something off. And there was something really wrong at the moment. You only wished you could know what it was, but it looked like he wasn’t willing to share what was on his mind. At least for now.

“Then give me a call when you come back?” You asked, after a few minutes of silent, when you were already getting to your building.

“Sure”, he said. “I gotta go.”

Before you had the chance to say anything, he hung up. You frowned looking at the screen and then looked up at his building, where you knew his living room was, but there was no sign of anyone. Quickly, you made your way up to your apartment and headed towards your room to look at his apartment but, for the first time, you found the curtains completely closed, keeping you from seeing anything inside.

What was going on?

The next few days you barely heard from Steve. He sent you a quick text when he landed in D.C., but you didn’t know anything else until he arrived at his apartment. And it wasn’t like he had texted you or anything, you just saw the lights in his room. You checked your phone in case you didn’t have service, but it was working perfectly. However, you decided to wait, maybe he was just unpacking and taking a shower.

A couple of hours later he hadn’t said anything yet and you didn’t know if you should text him or just keep on waiting. It was impossible that he thought that you wouldn’t see the lights when you had spent the last six months checking for those lights in order to talk to each other. It had become a habit for both of you. Still, you decided that waiting was the best option. Maybe something was going on at the Tower and he was dealing with it.

But when you texted him next morning and he didn’t text back and you still saw him getting into one of Tony’s Audis from your window, you just knew that something was really wrong. The main problem was that there was no way to find out what it was. You hadn’t said anything to him to make him get mad at you, right?

There was only one way to find out. You had to go to his apartment and face him. But he didn’t come back. It only meant that you would have to go the Stark Tower. Even if that meant that you had to talk to him in front of the whole team you didn’t care, you had the right to know why your boyfriend was ignoring you.

After taking a shower and getting ready, you took your bag with your wallet, keys and phone and let your apartment when the Uber app told you that your ride was waiting. Luckily, the traffic wasn’t as horrible as usual and you made your way to the Tower in less than thirty minutes.

You would be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous about facing Steve, but you were more worried about what was going on and wanted to fix it. Whatever it took. You had gone to the Tower so many times that the security guards that were by the private elevator that went straight to the Avengers HQ let you in without any inconvenience. Definitely, being Steve’s girlfriend had its perks.

When you walked out of the elevator, you were surprised to see no one. Usually, there was always someone watching TV or reading a book or just hanging in the living room, but nothing. Still, you made your way into the place and waited until you heard some muffled voices coming from the kitchen. As you got closer, you recognised Steve’s and Bucky’s voices. You were going to just irrupt in there, but you stopped when you heard your name.

“You can’t hide from (Y/N) forever, Steve”, Bucky was saying.

“I’m not hiding”, Steve said.

“This is the first night you’ve spent here since you met her, are you going to say that’s a coincidence?” Bucky asked but there was no answer. “Look, sorry I said what I said. I was just worried about you.”

“But what if you were right?” Steve finally asked. You frowned as you listened closely. “What if Steve Rogers isn’t enough? What if who she really likes is Captain America?”

“That’s bullshit”, Nat’s voice suddenly spoke up. You didn’t even know she was in there. “She’s completely infatuated with you, Steve. I don’t think she even cares about the stripes and the shield.”

“How do you know that?” Steve sighed.

“Well, I don’t, but I have eyes and what I see is a girl in love with you. With Steve Rogers”, she said. “Has she ever talked about you as Captain America?”

“No…”, Steve said after a few moments. “Not really. All she has said was that she loves the navy suit.”

“Even I do”, Natasha said, making you almost laugh, but you didn’t. “If you’re so full of doubts, just talk to her, but stop hiding like a little boy.”

Before any of them walked out of the kitchen and saw you there, ears dropping, you made your way back to the elevator silently. So that was the problem. Steve thought he wasn’t enough. How could he even think that? And how could you prove that it was bullshit, just like Nat had said?

When you walked out of the Tower and headed to the subway to go back home, you texted Steve, telling him to go to your place that night. You two had to talk.

It wasn’t until he texted you back that you breathed again. You were a bit scared at the thought of him saying no, but he said he would be there at 9 p.m. You spent the rest of the afternoon on your computer, finishing some work-related stuff you hadn’t been able to finish at the office and you had to turn in as soon as possible. Before you realised it, it was eight o’clock and you hadn’t even showered nor made dinner.

Since you weren’t going to have time to make some proper dinner, you just decided to order some Chinese food from Steve’s favourite restaurant. If he was comfortable enough, he would be more willing to speak to you. Or so you hoped.

As always, Steve was punctual and at 9 p.m. sharp there was a knock on your door. The Chinese food had arrived a few minutes earlier so it was still hot, meaning he was just in time. When you opened the door, a smile appeared on your face. It had been only a few days since you had last seen him, but you just realised how much you had actually missed him.

Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his torso, hiding your face in his chest with a content sigh as he hugged you back. As nervous as you were, his presence was as comforting as always.

Steve had missed you like crazy. It didn’t matter how worried he was, how insecure he was feeling. The moment he felt you close, he felt complete again, like he was home. The scent of your hair, your warmth, your smile. You were everything to him and the thoughts that had been haunting him for the last days were a completely nightmare.

“I missed you”, you said.

“I missed you too”, he sighed.

“I ordered Chinese”, you said, finally letting him walk in.

“Ching Pao?” He asked, taking off his jacket.

“Always”, you nodded. “And extra rolls”, you added.

“You’re the best”, he said with a soft smile.

You spent a few minutes setting up at the table with dishes and glasses before you sat down at the table, in front of each other.

“How was D.C.?” You asked.

“Boring”, he said. “Meeting after meeting and a gala”, he added.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have your fancy reunion expert with you”, you said.

“I wish I had her”, he smiled at you, but you noticed that the smile didn’t reach his eyes. You sighed and looked down at your plate for a moment, you couldn’t wait anymore.

“What’s wrong, Steve?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” He asked, avoiding your eyes.

“Are we really going to do this thing when you pretend not to know what I’m talking about?” You asked. Steve sighed and put down his chopsticks.

“Do you like me being Captain America?” He asked. You narrowed your eyes and shrugged.

“I like that you are, I’m very proud of you, but it’s not what I like the most”, you replied.

“Then what is? What could you possible like about me besides who I am?” He asked.

“Are you saying that you’re not good enough if you’re not Captain America?” You asked. He didn’t reply, but when he looked away, you sighed. “Steve, I don’t care about it. If tomorrow you said you wanted to hang the suit and drop the shield, my feelings for you wouldn’t change.”

“How do you know?” He asked.

“Because, Steve, I’m not looking for a superhero. All I want is someone who’s there for me, someone I can kiss, someone I can turn to when I need him”, you said. “I’m looking for something…something just like this”, you shrugged. “And Captain America doesn’t give me that. Steve Rogers does”, you added.

Steve was looking down at his food the whole time. You had no idea how good your words were been to him, how much they meant. Just with them, you were fixing that crack that had appeared in his chest a few days ago.

“I fell for Steve Rogers, my neighbour, my best friend”, you smiled a little, reaching out to take his hand. “And I am incredibly proud of you for being Captain America, I really am. But you’ve been Captain America for a long time before we met and I didn’t fell in love with you until I met you.”

He finally looked up at you and couldn’t help but smile when he met your eyes. You had said “in love”, you were in love with him and he couldn’t express how much that meant for him. Finally, he got up from his chair and walked around the table to kneel next to you.

“I love you too”, he smiled, taking your hands in his. “And I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about”, you said, turning your body so you were facing him. “But next time you’re feeling worried about my feelings for you… why don’t you just tell me so we can avoid all this?”

“Noted”, he nodded.

With a smile, he placed a hand on your cheek and pulled you closer to him, sealing the deal with a kiss that had you both grinning into it like idiots.

“By the way”, you said. “I love you.”

“I know”, he smiled widely before kissing you again, deeper this time, making you both forget about the now cold Chinese food for the rest of the night.

[spaceskam]

He didn't know any better.

That's what Michael was going to say if anyone asked him and he was sticking to it.

He tiptoed about the body on the floor, careful not to give in to the desire to lay down beside him and kiss him until he woke up so they could have a replay of the night before. He couldn't remember a time he'd been so fucking desperate to get his hands on someone that they couldn't make it past the kitchen floor, but there was always a first for something. However, he had a final in twenty minutes and he didn't actually remember the guy's name, so nicities felt benign.

Still, considering that was the best fuck of his life, he took a few second to dig for a pen and paper in the apartment's tiny kitchenette. He settled for a napkin and a sharpie, using his leg as a counter so he didn't stain the actual one.

I had fun with you, let's do it again. Call me.

It wasn't until he was speeding to school that he realized he didn't actually give him his number. He gave himself a second to loudly yell at himself over it and didn't care if the old lady on the next car over was starting at him. Leave it him to him to fuck something so good up.

"Do I even have to ask?" Isobel sighed as he rushed into class with five minutes to spare. He looked at her with wide, innocent eyes. "You're in the same outfit as yesterday, don't look at me like that. You decided your midterm was a pitstop on your walk of shame?"

"Shut up," he said, sitting as close to her as he could without Dr. Glower throwing a fit. Still, she leaned over and pressed her thumb into a sore spot on his neck.

"You didn't even try to cover that up," she mused. He looked at her with wide eyes before pulling out his phone and staring at his reflection. Sure enough, he had a massive fucking hickey. It was only made worse when Isobel plucked at his t-shirt to peer down his back. "Did you have sex with a fucking cat? You're covered in scratches."

For the first time in a long time, Michael's cheeks flushed and his skin got hot all over. Oh, embarrassment, a punishment from God himself for premarital sex. Or was it the gay sex thing? Was it both?

"You're usually better about not getting all that on you," Isobel said skeptically.

"I didn't know any better," Michael said. Isobel snorted.

"I think whoever you slept with didn't know any better," she said. Probably accurately. As good and confident as the guy was, Michael could tell it was the first time he was really putting some things into action. But Michael wasn't about to say that. "So, who was she?"

Michael gave her a look and she looked at him with far too much delight.

"He?" she corrected, "How'd you even get at an angle for a guy to–you know what? Nevermind, don't wanna know. I do wanna know who you let cover you in fucking marks."

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't actually remember ever asking his name."

Isobel stared at him like he'd grown an extra head.

"You let a stranger do that? How hot was he? Where'd you meet him?"

"Yes, very, Fantasia."

Before Isobel could grill him anymore, Dr. Glower walked in and Michael had never been more thankful.

-

"Will you leave me alone?"

"No!"

Michael groaned, but he didn't move out of her grasp. She was busy covering up the bruise on his neck with makeup that was absolutely not his shade but he'd rather a weird pale splotch than all the judgemental looks.

"You never go to gay bars by yourself," she said, "You never go anywhere by yourself."

"Yeah, well, I was stressing about the final and I needed to relax, so I went out. It was late and I didn't want to mess with your studying," he said.

All day he'd been not-so-subtly trying to find the guy from the night before. He knew they both went to UNM because that was the one thing they had talked about. Michael had seen him, bought him a drink, asked about school, his major, and if he wanted to dance. The rest of the night was a blur of tan skin and intoxicating kisses and unrivaled desire. Names just... didn't seem important in the moment.

"You think you're gonna see him again?" Isobel asked. Michael sighed.

"I have no idea. I don't know his name and I told him to call me without giving him my number, so he probably thinks I'm too dumb to talk to again."

"Uh, yeah, about that," Isobel laughed, "Any guy who decked you out in little trophies was into you much more than a one night stand."

The idea alone had him smiling.

-

"Michael Guerin!"

Michael turned to see Liz Ortecho making a fucking beeline for him. He grinned and opened his arms, letting her bodyslam into him before lifting her off the ground.

"I missed you!" she all but screamed into his ear. He laughed and squeezed her until she gave a little squeak. He let her down onto her feet.

"I can't believe you're back already."

"I was ready to come home," she said, still smiling. Liz had gotten a fancy semester abroad in Madrid because, well, she was great at what she did. "Did you know they spoke a completely different kind of Spanish? Like, I knew, but I didn't know, you know?"

"Yeah," Michael laughed, "Man, I really fucking missed you."

"I know!" she gushed, going in for another hug. He welcomed it happily. She was the first friend he'd made in college and they had spent many nights that started as a study session but became long, in depth talks about their life and goals and now she was one of his favorite people in the universe. "Listen, we're having a little welcome-home-slash-fuck-finals party on Friday at my friend Alex's. Come?"

"You know it."

"Awesome, I'll send you the address," she said, reaching up to give him a kiss on the cheek. He couldn't stop smiling. "You owe me lunch."

"I know," he agreed, giving a small salute as she walked away.

They never said goodbyes, they both agreed that felt too final.

-

For a genius, Michael was a fucking moron.

He was frozen in his car, staring up at the apartment that he'd been directed to go to for Liz's party. It just so happened to be the same apartment that he'd left Monday morning unceremoniously. He probably should've known that from the address, but he didn't even think about it. He should've. Maybe then he would've been prepared.

"He's in there," Michael said, "And I look like garbage."

"You do not look like garbage," Isobel said, very obviously tired of his shit considering they'd parked ten minutes ago and he still wasn't moving.

"I do! He's gonna look like a fucking gothic wet dream and I look like a trash can who hasn't washed his hair in a week!"

"Because you haven't washed your hair in a week."

"Oh my god, just cut it off, maybe he won't notice."

"Michael, will you calm down?" Isobel scoffed, "Look, come here."

He reluctantly looked to her, prepared for her to have scissors to cut off the mass of grease he'd let compile itself since that night because he was too wrapped up in finals go care. Except she didn't have scissors. She instead had baby powder.

"Just stay still, you gross bitch," she told him, sitting up on her knees and pouring the powder into his hair. She spent a good five minutes making it look like she hadn't just poured baby powder into his hair, just also making sure it didn't look like a grease trap. "Now, just wash your hair when you get home."

"Do you think he'll notice if I sneak in and wash my hair in the bathroom?"

"If you do that, I will disown you."

"Okay."

Eventually, they managed to head into the apartment. Michael was struggling to pretend that he wasn't terrified. He remembered being a lot more chill when he met this guy–Alex, his name was Alex–at Fantasia. Granted, he'd been a little high and a little eager, but still.

This felt like a ticking time bomb. He didn't know when he was going to run into him, he just knew it was going to happen, and that was terrifying. He wanted to see him again. He did. He just didn't want to ruin that night in his head.

That's why, when he finally made eye contact with those black-lined eyes, Michael ducked into the bathroom.

He looked around in a panic, trying to calm down as best he could so he wouldn't embarrass himself. How did he talk to him normally when all he could see was how he looked completely strung out on the kitchen floor? How did he make small talk when he knew they couldn't even make it to the bedroom? How did he flirt when he hadn't washed his hair all week?

He would blame that last thought when he ended up with his head in the sink as Alex knocked on the door.

"Hey," Alex called, "Uh, you've been in there for awhile. You alright?"

Michael tried to think fast. His head was half covered in suds from the shampoo he'd taken from Alex's shower and he was trying really hard not to get any water on Alexs makeup and half his shirt was already wet and he didn't know where a towel was.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'm fine!" Michael called back and cursed to himself. This was a bad idea. How was he supposed to explain his wet hair? What the fuck? Why did he do this?

"Are you sure?"

"I'm, uh..."

"You're not doing drugs, are you?"

"No!"

"Because I'd really rather not find drugs in the bathroom later," Alex went on.

Which is what prompted Michael to say, "Come in!" You know, like a dumbass.

"Uh, okay?" Alex said before the door opened. Michael stood up straight, hair soaking wet (but soap free) and face red. This was just the week of embarrassment. "Um. I'm not sure what to say."

Alex's face was slowly turning red as he fought laughter which Michael appreciated. Still, with a red face, he looked fucking gorgeous. He was dressed in all black and his makeup was done all pristine and and his hair was long and pulled back into a low bun with strands hanging down around his face. Michael didn't remember his hair looking like that. It looked good. And he looked like a wet dog.

"Do you have a towel?" Michael asked lamely. Alex slipped a small laugh, but reeled it in as he nodded.

"Uh, yeah," he said, reaching below the sink to grab one. Which Michael probably should've guessed. "You know, if you needed to take a shower, you could've asked."

Michael closed his eyes momentarily, but thankfully the towel was as to save him from painful eye contact.

"I could come up with a lie, but literally I'm already an embarrassment, so," Michael sighed, drying his hair as best he could. The towel hung in front of his eyes for no reason other than preventing him from wanting to shove his head into the wall. "I didn't realize you were the one throwing the party and I kinda didn't look my best and I didn't want to see you when I looked fucking busted, so..."

"So you washed your hair in my sink?"

"Yeah," Michael sighed, "I'm sorry."

"You're fine," Alex said. They were silent for a moment until Michael dried his hair as good as it was going to get. He was prepared for the mass of frizz it would become in the next few hours. "So..."

"So."

They both let out soft laughs and shook their heads. How did people have conversations again?

"Listen, Sunday night was... I don't usually do that," Alex started. Michael got real serious re fast. "I've slept with a guy, like, once before and it was a high school boyfriend and it went really bad and I never spoke to him again. So... That was really out of character for me and I apologize if I embarrassed myself enough to make you feel the need to sneak away."

Michael's eyes widened. "No! No, the only one of us who should be embarrassed is me. I had a final that morning and I didn't wanna wake you, so I just... I left a note."

"Without your number or name."

"I'm stupid," Michael sighed. Alex gave a sweet smile that was enough to recharge him. "I don't usually do that either," Michael said, but quickly decided to back track, "Well, I've had one night stands and stuff, but I usually don't run out like that. I promise I'm more respectful than that. And also I would like that to not be a one night stand. Hence the attempt to not look like a sewer rat when I realized I would see you again."

Alex snorted, "You look great."

"Me? No, you look like a fucking model and that willl forever be my excuse when asked why I lost all my cool," Michael insisted, "I swear, I never lose my cool."

"I know, you were pretty suave that night," Alex noted. Michael licked his lips and smiled.

"Listen, I know we met in kind of an unconventional way, but you are literally the hottest guy I've ever met. I never let anyone give me a hickey, but I gladly let you fucking wreck me and I would gladly do it again," Michael said. Alex gulped visibly, suddenly looking innocent all over again. Why was that so hot?

"I had no idea what I was doing, I'm sorry I left a hickey."

"I ready think you knew what you were doing," Michael laughed. Alex flushed a deeper shade of red and shrugged half-heartedly.

"I was going off your cues."

"Yeah, well, I wanna do that again. But, like, properly," Michael insisted, "Can I give you my number? For real this time?"

Alex smiled a bit wider and nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that."

They eventually made it out of the bathroom and Michael pretty immediately went to Isobel to let her know he probably would be staying a little later than everyone else. He wanted to get to know Alex a bit better. You know, beyond his kitchen floor. Maybe his bedroom would be a good setting.

Isobel sighed and ignored his wet hair which was honestly the biggest blessing of the night.

"Leave it to you to get laid looking like that."

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter Twenty: Heart to Heart

A/N: Hi, friends! So, we kind of had a little bit of a holy shit moment last week, didn't we? And I'm kind of in love with that holy shit moment from last week. And now, we're going to see what the Old Man has to say about it. Alright? Let's go!

“You what?” The Old Man stared me down like I was on something. But for the first time in what feels like a long time, I had the utmost mental clarity. I hadn’t had a drink all day. I got fantastic sleep the night before. Everything just…seemed to be falling into place for me. With the exception of the accusations of kidnapping my girlfriend. That’s not exactly a win in my book, but if it meant having her, I can call it one. Oh, well. Life’s not perfect, but she is. And I’ll die on that hill.

“Yeah…” Now that I said it out loud, that was in the universe for someone, no one, or anyone to hear. And hopefully, it gets to the right ears. All I knew was that I could say it with absolute certainty, “I want to marry Vanessa, Old Man. Plain and simple.”

“Easy, kid,” he slowed me down, “Let’s think this one through for a second.”

“Why?” I asked, “I already know I don’t like being without her, so why not make it official, you know?”

“That’s all well and good,” the Old Man shut me up, “But we’re going to think this one through before you rush into things. Alright? Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” I sat down across from his desk, “I’m listening.”

“Good,” he rubbed his eyes in exasperation. I always knew I had my moments where I was a handful, but I thought the Old Man could handle me by now, “You’ve known this girl for…what…three, maybe four months? In order to meet her, you had to have her make the first move because you were too damn twitchy to do it yourself.”

“Wounding my pride here, Old Man…” I bit the inside of my cheek, “Not exactly appreciated.”

“And I’m not done,” he continued, “On your first date, I thought you were going to throw up. You’re trying to chase after a blue blood while working for one of the biggest kingpins in the city.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, “What about it?”

“Oh, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie,” the Old Man shook his head, “I really do love you, but someone needs to knock you upside the head with a goddamn frying pan.”

“What did I do?” I squealed, “All I said was that I wanted to make the best decision I could possibly ever make in my life. Is that so terrible?”

He sat back in his chair in absolute awe, “You really do love this girl, don’t you? Despite all odds. Despite her mother wanting you arrested for kidnapping her.”

“Allegedly kidnapping her,” I clarified, “Vanessa told me that if this goes to trial and she gets on the stand, she will be sure to say that everything was completely and one hundred percent consensual. And that there’s a slight chance her mother would say something along the lines of Vanessa not being in the right mind to be a credible witness. But if it comes to that, Vanessa’s demanding a psych evaluation to prove she’s of sound mind and can be a credible witness.”

“It’s not just that you love her,” he thought, “But you two have already hashed this shit out?”

“It was mostly Vanessa,” I gushed, “She’s kind of good with this whole lawyering thing. It is what she’s going to school for. I’d expect nothing less.”

“And you’re sure this is the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with?” the Old Man asked, his face still unreadable. I’m not sure if he’s going to congratulate me or take me into the warehouse and beat some sense into me.

“Without a doubt,” I nodded, “She takes care of me. I take care of her. That’s all this ever needs to be. I want to keep this one around so bad, Old Man. Vanessa’s the best thing to ever happen to me and I don’t want to let her get away.”

“I’m happy for you, kid,” he smiled a bit, “Really, I am. But good luck getting permission for her hand.”

“Her dad’s going to be easy,” I assured him, remembering everything Vanessa told me, “If I can corner him, she’s mine. Her dad’s got a spine like a wet noodle.”

“Then, I don’t think her dad’s going to be the one you need to worry about,” the Old Man warned me, “I’ve told you this before, Frankie. Victoria Scarlotti is not a bitch you want to get tangled up with. Trust me. It will not end pretty for anyone involved. And God forbid it comes back to bite Vanessa. She’s a sweet girl and she doesn’t deserve that.”

“You know what, though?” I thought back to last night. How pissed off Victoria made Vanessa, “I’m pretty sure those two are one big blow up away from never speaking to each other again.”

“Oh, fuck, really?” he perked up, “But if that does happen, what are you going to do? You know she’s going to either lean on you for support or she’s going to resent you for being the reason she cut her mother out of her life.”

“If she’s leaning on me,” I told him, “I’ll gladly support her. I’ve dealt with her mother. She is not a pleasant human being. But I know somewhere else she’d lean, too. It’s not like she’d be totally without a mother in her life. Have you ever met mine?”

“Yeah. Several times. Your mama’s a peach.”

“Right there,” I went on, “Right there would be my safety net, if need be. Because Mama and Vanessa get on like a fucking house on fire. She’d be alright. But if she resents me for it, then…I don’t know. I guess I could kiss marrying her goodbye. I’d give Vanessa the space she needed to recover and if she came back to me, then she’d come back to me and everything would be…Probably on shaky ground for a while, but we’d be ok. Eventually. How am I going to find out which one I get if I didn’t stick around?”

“So,” the Old Man pressed a little more, “You’re not worried about her mother?”

“Not at all,” I assured him, “Because at the end of the day, I’m not marrying Victoria. At the end of the day, that’s Vanessa’s decision, whether Victoria likes it or not. You know what Vanessa told me last night?”

“What?”

“She told me she spent her trust fund on her education,” I felt a phantom ache in my chest. Seeing Vanessa so pissed and so hurt killed me. Never again, baby. Don’t you worry about that, “because it was the one thing Victoria couldn’t take from her. It was the one thing she could call entirely her own. And when I heard that, she fucking broke me. It made me wonder what else she’s taken from her. She almost took her love life away from her.”

“What do you mean?” the Old Man looked at me strange.

“Victoria was trying to set up Vanessa last night…That’s the reason why I took her away from the party last night. It was fucking smothering her and she could hardly contain herself. I got her out of there, so she could breathe again. And even after she told Victoria she had a boyfriend, she told Vanessa to find her when she stops going through her rebellious phase.”

“Ouch…” the Old Man winced, “I’m sorry to hear that, kid.”

“I can’t totally hate Victoria, though,” I admitted, “As much as I’m not her number one fan, I can’t totally hate her. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t think we would’ve met. Or at least, we wouldn’t be like we are now.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” I giggled to myself, “Remember the night we met? When I seemed like I just got my ass kicked a million times over and I hated everything?”

“You were rough,” he agreed, “Yeah. What does that have to do with Victoria?”

“She was the reason why I looked so tired and defeated,” I remembered that night all too well, “The customer isn’t always right, Old Man. Sometimes, the customer has a false sense of overentitlement and needs to get knocked down a couple pegs. In the form of me falling in love with her daughter a couple nights later…I think that’s when it was. Then, you put me on my first collections job and that was the night I met Vanessa. Sort of. Like you so kindly pointed out, she had to make the first move, but dammit, I’m glad she did.”

“Yikes, kid…” the Old Man cringed, “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. But hindsight, I guess.”

“You know,” I leaned back in my chair, finding patterns in the ceiling tiles. And I had a feeling that under at least a couple of these tiles were drugs, but what the Old Man does in his free time is his business. Not particularly one for them myself, but I don’t judge, “I’m not a big believer in destiny or fate or whatever you want to call it. But I do think the right people are put in the right path. It’s just whether or not you got the stones to take the path in the first place.”

“And now, you’re some kind of philosopher?” he teased, “Hard to believe you haven’t asked Vanessa to marry you already.”

“I’m serious, though,” I admitted, “It’s like…This all fell into place the way it should. One person out of place and my life could’ve gone completely different. No Victoria to wear me down would’ve meant me still working at the restaurant and not coming to work for you. If Vanessa wouldn’t have been in the club that night as a wake up call from her sister Violet, we never would’ve met. Or even if Veronica wouldn’t have been by Abuela’s food truck the morning after, I don’t think I ever would’ve gotten my second chance with her. Sure, I could’ve still called her, but there’s no guarantee she would’ve agreed. But having Veronica to vouch for me might have been what saved my ass. It’s just…There’s a lot of what ifs that could’ve never been and it would’ve sent me in a different direction, but it didn’t. I’m here. And hopefully, if I’m very, very lucky, I’ll be with her. For as long as we live. And I don’t know about you, Old Man, but that’s the kind of future I want. I’ve never been able to see much of it before, but…I don’t know. Something about her makes it so…Bright…So clear…”

“You don’t have to sell me on it anymore, kid,” the Old Man settled me, “If you can get her away from Victoria, you have more than my blessing. Now, before you make me an emotional wreck, how about we get you on something to get your mind off of possibly going to jail for the woman you love, ok?”

“Alright,” I wasn’t going to say no. I could use the distraction, “What do you got for me? After I’ve worked all day at the bar.”

“Don’t think I’m going easy on you,” the Old Man jabbed, “Just because you put in honest work doesn’t mean you’ve worked for me today. I’m not the one that owns the bar. It’s just under my umbrella.”

“Dammit,” I grumbled, “Alright, Old Man. What do you want me to do?”

“It’s just a collection job, Frankie,” he laughed, “Relax. It’s not the end of the world. Although, I don’t want you going on your own. Go get your brothers first.”

“What?” I wondered, “Why? Where the fuck are you sending me? I can probably handle it on my own.”

“No,” the Old Man put his foot down, “I know you’re a scrappy little shit, but trust me. I want someone watching your back. In this particular instance, I want two someones watching your back. Go get your brothers. You’re going to the outskirts of our territory and not on a good side.”

“Again,” I started to sweat a little, “Where the fuck are you sending me, Old Man?”

“The outskirts of our territory,” he reiterated, “But on the other side of the line is the Bronx. You know about the Bronx.”

“Yeah,” I knew better than to play over on that side of the fence. The Old Man made sure to keep me out of there. Which made me wonder why the fuck he’d be sending me there now. Especially after everything I just told him. But I knew I could do it. Even if it means babysitting Tony and César while they’re supposed to be babysitting me, “I know not to be too conspicuous. I know not to piss anyone off around there. Keep my head low, get in, and get out. Right?”

“That’s right,” he applauded, “You do listen when I tell you shit. Good to know.”

“Of course, I do,” I rolled my eyes, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’d be amazed at how many apprentices I’ve taken on in my life,” the Old Man explained, “And not too many of them listened. You know what happened to them?”

“What?”

“They’re dead, Frankie,” he put a hand to my shoulders, “Don’t be like the others.”

“Are you serious?” I gasped, “All of them?”

“Na,” the Old Man settled my nerves, “Not all of them. Some of them are, but not all of them. The ones that are dead got that way from being stupid. I got a couple that just got demoted and keep an eye on shit for me in different places. They’re information guys. You don’t want to be information. Believe me. My informants do double duty as patsies. You don’t want to go down that road.”

“No, I do not,” I promised, “I like where I am.”

“Stay at my hip, kid,” he gave me a little pop to the shoulder, “You’ll learn a thing or two. But for now, go get your brothers. Go get my money. Come back and we’ll talk about your cut.”

“Got it, boss,” I started getting up only to be pushed back down again, “What the hell, Old Man?”

“This is a big score for you, Frankie,” he kept his voice down, “You know how normally when you do collections for me, it’s maybe five grand, ten grand max?”

“Yeah.”

“This one’s around the hundred thousand mark,” the Old Man filled me in, “The envelope’s going to feel a little thicker than normal. This is a big score. Don’t blow it. Don’t get yourself killed. Don’t make friends, but don’t make enemies either. And what’s the number one rule when you got that money in your hand?”

“Don’t count it in front of anyone else?”

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s just rude?”

“And…?’

“Because it’s a sign of mistrust,” I knew the rules. I wasn’t an idiot.

“That’s my boy,” he gave me a pat on the back, “Go on. Go get your brothers and my money.”

“Ok.” I did my best to keep my cool in front of him, but holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. I’ve never held a hundred grand before. Even when the Old Man needed his money laundered, I wasn’t the one to take it. That was one of those things he did on his own. Why? I don’t know. But I figured it wasn’t my place to ask.

Still…I had to go to the borderlands. I was about to be within spitting distance of the Bronx territories and we’ve had that conversation. That’s not a place for me to be. If they find out who I work for, I’m fucked. But I suppose that’s why the Old Man wants me protected. That and the fact that he doesn’t exactly hide who the favorite is around here. I’m surprised no one’s tried to pick a fight with me yet. Probably because of what I’ve already done in the warehouse. That guy walked out of there limping with a trail of blood following him.

When I got home, I did a quick check of the calendar. Mama was working late tonight, but that didn’t mean Tony and César were. At least not yet. I checked the apartment for my favorite pair of brothers and couldn’t find them anywhere. They weren’t in the living room. They weren’t in the bedroom. Although, when I poked my head out our bedroom window, I found them both on the fire escape. Why was I not surprised? It was a beautiful night. I couldn’t blame them.

“Hola, hermanito,” César stomped out the end of his cigarette, “Que pasa?”

“You boys care to make some money tonight?” I asked, a smirk on my face. I knew they weren’t going to say no. Not to me.

“What for?” Tony wondered. Always the skeptical one.

“The Old Man’s got me on a job,” I told them, “And he wants me protected, so he told me to take you two with me. Sound like a night?”

“What if we had plans?” César whined, “What if I had shit to do tonight, Frankie? We can’t just drop everything for you to use us as bodyguards.”

“Do you have anything else to do tonight?” Tony asked, “Because I don’t remember you making plans, César…”

“Dammit, Tony,” César put his head between his knees, “I swear, you were malnourished in the womb.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tony gave him a shove.

“So,” I figured, “You don’t have shit going on tonight, do you, César?”

“Nope.”

“But,” I put things into perspective, “You know how well the jobs the Old Man puts us on always pay out. And I think tonight might be a damn good one.”

“What do you mean?” César perked up, “How much is this one paying, Frankie?”

“The Old Man didn’t tell me,” I explained, “But he did say it’s the most I’ve ever scored from one collections job.”

“Which is…how much?”

I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I wanted to, “A hundred grand.”

“No fucking way,” César gasped, “Frankie, that kind of money could take care of the trip home this year.”

Or my cut could go toward an engagement ring and a damn nice wedding, but priorities, I guess. They weren’t ready to hear that one yet, “So, I’m thinking it’s safe to say you two are in?”

“I am,” César nodded, “And I don’t trust Tony home by himself, so we’re in.”

“Alright then,” I gave them both a nod, “Vamanos.”

[noctuascion]

I'm gonna make 2 requests, because I'm greedy and a little Cryptage starved right now. Also, you write so good and you have this way of turning a phrase that makes me super jealous so here goes. 1) FAKE DATING! Just... always with the fake dating. 2) Not sure how the lore works on your au but if it's applicable, either vamp crypto accidentally exposing wolf mirage to silver or wolf mirage exposing vamp crypto to sunlight.

;; Be as greedy as you want, sweetums. I love writing your prompts and also love you so it works out. uwu

Also, anything to keep me from falling asleep lol

I'll write your second request in a different post, but it'll be a bit. I write kinda slowly chjdjw ;;

--

Elliott Witt has had a lot of things happen to him. He's had first loves, first kisses, first everythings. He's done a lot in his life, but, in all his years of living and loving, he didn't think fake dating his rival would ever make the list. It did, though, as much as both of them resented it.

One of the promotional managers had called them in for a quick meeting. Basically, he laid down that they were to start appearing in public more and that they were doing it together. At first, Elliott had been on board. Having more time in the limelight sounded amazing, but then came in Park, who was now going to be his boyfriend.

Now, he's not saying Park's disgusting or revolting or that he isn't comfortable enough with his sexuality to be able to freely hug and tell his buddies he loves them (because, well, his only friends are a lesbian and a drug addict for the most part), but he's straight, a ladies man! Sure, the kid's pretty and everything, but he's not feminine either. He has his own special type of charm that's not entirely easy to put into words. (He has nice legs, though. Elliott will give him that much.)

He's glad, though, that he's not the only one entirely against this. Park managed to miss a lot of meet 'n greets, forgoing seeing his fans and opting out of photo shoots. He's rarely seen in public, and, if he is, he looks about as shady as a drug dealer—hiding his face, oversized clothing, etc. He hates the spotlight, Elliott quickly figured out, and that was his only real issue with this whole ordeal.

And when Elliott pointed out that he seemed to be perfectly fine with dating him, he called him what he assumes are curse words and insults in his native tongue before telling him he'd sooner date Nox.

However, their word was final, and the two were now a "couple" in the eyes of the public. Their fellow competitors were allowed insight on their little "agreement," and they did what any supportive friends would do: they laughed and wished the new couple a happy life.

Today was their first official "date" as a couple, so Elliott intended for it to be at least somewhat decent for them. He was aware Park hated public places, but they wanted them to be seen in public together. He couldn't please both parties, so he decided a small, family restaurant would be their destination. There wasn't a lot of people that normally visited, but Elliott was a personal fan of the food served there. The atmosphere was warm and friendly and he's sure Park would appreciate that much.

Why am I trying so hard again…?

Shrugging, he pulled on his second nicest jacket—a nice yellow shade that went well with his white shirt and blue jeans. His hair was done up in its usual style, though he lacked the goggles he normally wore, so his hair fell in his eyes a bit. He was sure Park wasn't going to try too hard, so he didn't either. It was a casual outing, after all; no need for either to wear anything extravagant.

Well, Elliott was wrong when Park met up with him wearing a white turtleneck, a nice black blazer, and matching slacks. He suspects a turtleneck because he's at least trying to hide his cybernetic implantations without being too obvious and still looking like effort was put in. There was such a stark color difference, though—he felt like the sun next to the moon.

"Oh, h-hey, you look…" Elliott trailed off, unsure if he should give a genuine compliment or play it off like a joke—but he's already stuttered, so he may as well commit, "… good—you dress up nice."

"Paquette and Wraith helped." He huffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I wouldn't have put in so much effort otherwise."

"Such a heartbreaker, Kim."

Elliott chuckled before reaching out and opening the door, gesturing for him to hop inside his car. The hacker rolled his eyes before slipping inside, the trickster shutting it before hurrying to the other side.

"Where are we going?" Park asked once Elliott was inside, turning the engine on and beginning to leave the complex.

"I know you don't like public places, and a movie is a terrible first date, so I picked out a small family restaurant that has some of the best lemon cakes I've tasted. Not to mention some people will see us, together, so it'll make the higher-ups happy, y'know?"

"Hm. You're smarter than I thought you were."

"I'm full of surprises, sugar."

"Don't push your luck with this 'dating' thing, Witt."

"Oh! That reminds me—we should probably establish some boundaries." Elliott took a right, keeping his eyes on the road but focus elsewhere. "Personally, I don't really care. So long as we don't have sex, I think I'm good otherwise. How about you?"

"No kissing, holding hands, touching in general, stupid pet names, or sex."

"… Well, you've eliminated every possible way of showing we're 'dating.' Anymore you wanna ban there, kid?" Elliott sighed, stopping at a red light and looking over to where Park was seated, glaring out the window. "This is definitely more like a friendly outing, if anything, but no one's gonna talk about us if we just seem like friends. Higher-ups will have our necks."

"I take back what I said earlier. You're an idiot if you think I care about whether or not they're happy with what I do."

"All right, fair point. Can we at least hold hands? That shouldn't be too much to ask."

Park sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and sinking into his seat. "Fine. If it'll get them out of our business, we can do that. But only for a few seconds."

"Gotcha. Man, whoever dated you in the past must've been as touch-adv—avd—ad—ad… adverse as you."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"… Holy shit—you've never dated anybody."

"Shut up."

"No, no, that just makes this whole thing worse!" Elliott began driving again once the red light changed to green. His eyes returned to the road as well, though he was no less focused on the topic at hand. "You're experiencing a date for the first time with someone you don't even like, a-and that's not fair!"

"I—"

"No, y'know what? No, you're getting a date. Getting everything! You're getting the ol' Mirage charm, gonna get swept right off your feet."

"Witt—"

"No buts! You're being dragged out of your cave and getting screwed out of a first date with someone you're actually interested in. The least I can do is be as good to you as possible."

Park only stared at him, silent, before an amused breath left him, letting himself smile. "Okay."

—;;

Park wasn't a conversationalist, Elliott quickly found out. He was very quiet and reserved, which didn't help much either. He was, however, a great listener, and Elliott loved to talk, so, in a way, it worked out for the better.

The small restaurant they were seated in was relatively quiet, but they could hear hushed whispers about them being together, seated in a secluded booth that helped alleviate any anxiety Park might have with being seen by a bunch of people.

The holographic expert had ordered himself a steak, medium rare, with a salad on the side. He opted out for any alcohol, since he was the driver and he had no idea if Park was comfortable dealing with someone drunk, so all he ordered was some tea. Park, though, only asked for steak fries and a soda.

"Y'know," Elliott said after taking a sip of his tea, "you should get more meat in your diet. Helps build muscle, gets some meat on your bones."

"Hm…"

"C'mon! You also never join us for dinner. Or lunch—or, actually, I don't… see you eat. You eat, right?"

"Yes."

Elliott hummed in suspicion, a hand smoothing down his beard, though Park's stoic gaze didn't relent any. "All right… What do you normally eat?"

"Usually from whatever takeout menu is closer."

"… How are you even standing right now?" Elliott looked sad for a moment before shaking his head. "Let's make a quick deal here—"

"We've already made a deal."

"Let's make another. If you agree to come out of your cave for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I'll agree to do whatever you want. Anything. Well, except really bad stuff. Like, I won't kill someone. Too far."

It was Park's turn to hum, taking a sip from his straw, before placing the glass on the table. "I benefit from this more than you do."

"I get the benefit of helping my sweet sugar plum get better, even if it's just a little bit."

Park raised a brow. "What did I say about pushing luck?"

"Ya love me. You wouldn't leave me on our date like this… Well, I hope not."

Park wanted to roll his eyes, say "I would and I will," but he didn't. He kept silent, giving Elliott a look, who seemingly took the hint and changed subject.

"So, have you ever been asked out before?"

"Isn't that a bad topic for dates?"

"Just curious. Feel free to not say. Besides, it's not a real date."

"Don't let them hear you say that." Park stirred his drink with his straw absentmindedly, watching it fizz up at his ministrations. "No, no one's ever asked me out."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised."

Elliott laughed in disbelief. "Well, yeah! I mean, you're…"

"What?"

"I dunno—gorgeous, beautiful, cool and mysterious! You'd think girls would be all over you."

"I'm not exactly pleasant to be around, Witt. I'd think you'd have figured that out by now."

The trickster waved a hand, like he was denying Park's claim. "You're rough around the edges, but you're not horrible." He shrugged, taking another sip from his drink. "I'm sure someone out there's just dying to wanna date you! Or maybe you haven't met them yet. Who knows!"

Park let another faint smile curl his lips, looking into his drink. "Who knows, indeed."

—;;

Day two of their time as a couple was during a duos match (of course it was just them), and Elliott had counted this as possibly his most unlucky match.

They had landed at Epicenter and Park landed on top of the tower, alone, and Elliott landed on the ground with two other squads, one consisting of Nox and Octavio and the other being Natalie and Ajay. Nox had trained his sights on him immediately and began chasing him down (the sadistic bastard), and he had to rush to find a gun. All he could find was a P2020, and it wasn't exactly a fair match against the scientist's Spitfire.

Neither of them had any shields, but just a couple of shots from the toxic trapper's gun was enough to down him, slipping on ice and colliding with the hard ground.

"Oh—fuck!" the trickster cursed, trying to crawl away from the man towering over him. "C-C'mon, Caustic, don't you have anyone else to shoot at?"

"No."

"That's a lie and you know it."

However, before Nox could kill him off, the sound of a Sentinel going off, following by Nox quickly being down, sent a wave of relief through his system, looking over onto the cliff to see Park perched atop it, the bolt-action sniper in his hands.

No scope. That's kinda hot.

The hacker had shot off a few more rounds, and Elliott could hear Octavio shout in pain, before he began sliding down the hill, swapping out his sniper for a Wingman. The revolver was shot off twice before Nox's death box suddenly popped up in front of him, signaling the end of that squad.

However, they still had Natalie and Ajay, though they'd been injured by Octavio. They were clinging to D.O.C.'s healing up until Park tosses a grenade where they were healing. Natalie hadn't escaped fast enough, and she ended up downed, whereas Ajay was only injured.

She put up a fight, firing off her Alternator with frightening precision, and, had Park not hit his shots, he would've been killed off.

However, the man calmly approaching his fallen teammate was enough of an indicator that he won that battle, only a few wounds and scratches indicating his prior struggle.

"Kid, if I didn't know better," he said, pausing to let out a grunt at the syringe being plunged into his chest, "I'd think you're trying to show off and steal my heart."

For a moment, Park was silent, helping Elliott back to his feet, before a smirk crossed those dashing fractures, looking up at the other with a faint sense of mirth dancing in his eyes.

"Did it work?"

For once in his life, Elliott was left stunned, mouth open, unable to formulate a response, before the surveillance expert left to loot.

He regained his senses after a moment, blinking himself back into reality, and shutting his mouth.

Kid's full of surprises.

—;;

Their third date wasn't for the public. Their third date wasn't even suggested by Elliott. Park had just grabbed Elliott by the arm, dragged him out to god-knows-where, late at night, and laid down on a small hill. He didn't say anything, didn't give any explanation, and, honestly, Elliott didn't expect anything less. He just laid down beside the other, looked up at the stars, and let out a breath.

However, as Park's own mind was clear, hands resting on his stomach and a leg bent at the knee, Elliott's own was filled with thoughts of confusion, his hands behind his head, acting as a pillow.

Park was such a strange guy. One day, he acts like he's the bane of his existence, and, the next, he's smiling and making quips that make Elliott's heart race. Elliott's been with a lot of people, and he's learned a lot from his time with them, but there's never been a time where they've made him feel like… this.

They never badger him about his gross, smelly hair spray, they never playfully banter with him, they never push him off of exploding trains, and they certainly never made him speechless, never made him feel like he lost the ability to function. They never treated him like a person. They always just treated him like… Mirage.

"Hyeon?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think I'm straight."

"Mm. What makes you say that?"

"Because I think I'm in love with you."

Park smiled, letting out a quiet laugh. "You don't even know how I feel about you."

"I don't. You're weird, and you're never forward w-with how you feel, but… I just… thought you should, y'know, know, since we're doing this whole… thing."

"Mm. The fake dating thing?"

"The fake dating thing, yeah."

"… Do you want it to be fake anymore?"

Elliott turned into his side, Park own head moving to meet his gaze. "No."

"Mm. Good." Park's head turned back to the stars, shutting his eyes. "Neither did I."