#genuinely and let myself live but i hesitate telling my extended family ANYTHING or do anything genuine (by that i mean

[bunnyb34r]

What's funny is that given the chance to go to like anime cons, I will GLADLY jump on the opportunity (as long as it's one day), but god forbid a friend spontaneously wants to go catch a movie

And at cons (when I used to go) I'm very extroverted and like a golden retriever I wanna meet and befriend EVERYBODY! but I wont go to family partys or work friends get togethers

[quindolyn]

General Relationship Headcanons || James Potter

Request: “Please can you do a general relationship for james potter? xx” -anon

Word Count: 5,835

Notes: This is kinda slow burn, I’m a little sorry. The ones I did for Remus and Sirius were not canon so this won’t be either which is a little easier because no Jily. These keep on getting longer and longer, but part of that is because Jamie is definitely my favorite marauder.

Warnings: Smut, angst, lots of fluff, dom and sub James, momma’s boy Jamie

Masterlist

You were something special

James had known that since he was 4 years old

It just took him a long time to realize exactly how special you really were

James Potter was an idiot

That would become increasingly apparent to him as he grew up

Your family and the Potters were great friends for as long as any of you could remember, meaning that you and James were practically attached at the hip

And who could blame you? He has such nice hips 

The both of you are heart broken when he leaves for Hogwarts leaving you behind because you wouldn’t start until the following year.

All throughout his first year you guys write back and forth sharing every single detail of your respective days, down to the color of the plate you ate your lunch on

You can’t help but feel envious

There’s your best friend in the entire world, in fucking Scotland

Making new best friends

When the next year rolls around and you get to finally join James on the Hogwarts Express you want to hate Sirius and Remus

You really do

But how can you? They’re Remus and Sirius 

You guys spend the entirety of the train ride laughing and talking and the other two boys tell you embarrassing stories from the year prior about James

When they hear your nicknames for him (Jamsie, Jamie, J), they make fun of him relentlessly

He calls you an assortment of cheesy nicknames too but his favorites, before you guys get together, are “Sweetheart”, “Sunshine”, and “love”

If you get sorted into Gryffindor James screams his head off for you, making room for you to sit next to him at the table in the Great Hall, opposite Sirius and Remus.

If you’re in a different house then James gets sad, really sad, like that night he cries into his pillow and Sirius has to climb into bed with him to give him hugs and tell him that its okay even if the two of you are in different houses. That doesn’t have to affect your friendship if you don’t let it.

The next day James would find you before you got to the Great Hall and engulf you in a hug in the middle of the corridor, not caring that there were people streaming past the two of you in either direction. 

“We’re gonna be friends forever right (Y/N/N)?”

“I hope so Jamie.”

Even though you’re in different classes and potentially different houses you guys are around each other all of the time

You sit with him and the other boys at their place at the Gryffindor table

They sit with you in the library

And by the end of your first year you’re having sleepovers in their dorm

You sleep in James’ bed of course and Remus and Sirius do. Not. hesitate. To mock you relentlessly

“You and your girlfriend getting comfy over there Jamie?”

“Go to hell Siri, let me cuddle James in peace!” 

These jokes continue through your years at Hogwarts and you and James take them in jest

As you guys get older the physical affection you share never dwindles

After someone made a crude comment in the hallway about the two of you he talked to you making sure that you were okay with the arms he would throw over your shoulders, the arms wrapped around you waist, the kisses to your forehead before he left the Great Hall for class, holding you in his arms in the Gryffindor common room as the two of you drifted to sleep.

You assure him that its okay, that its not weird because you guys have been best friends since forever and that you love how affectionate you are with each other

You don’t start to realize you feelings for James until he starts pining after Lily, you don’t know what you have until its gone, right?

Watching him stare at her in the Great Hall

Writing her little notes that even though he’ll go up and ask her out in front of everyone, which you’re not too fond of either, he’s too shy to actually give her

Listening to him go on and on about her, her hair, the cadence of her voice, the beautiful color of her eyes, how intelligent she is, and on and on

Sirius picks up on this instantly

And he does not hesitate to make fun of you for it all the time, obviously not enough for James to pick up on it because he’s a prick not a complete asshole, but still enough to make you blush uncontrollably

You can’t say anything to him though because he’s your James and there’s absolutely no way that he returns your feelings, you’re like a little sister to him

So, much to Sirius’ chagrin, you swallow your feelings and sit there by James, trying to listen to Remus as he tries to explain to you your Charms homework while James watches Lily on the other side of the Common Room laughing with Dorcas and Marlene

And a little piece of your soul dies

The summer between your third and fourth year, his fourth and fifth, you were excited to finally have your Jamsie back to yourself again.

It went without saying that the two of you would alternate between each other’s houses over the summer

There would be no Lily Evans to distract him

No exams to stress over 

Just you and James at the Potter estate, exploring the woods that, in all honesty, didn’t change all that much from summer to summer, and swimming in the bioluminescent pond on the edge of the Potter property, simply floating next to each other on your backs, one of his hands grasping your forearm, making sure you didn’t float too far away from him

But apparently this year it didn’t go without saying.

Instead, a mere month before the end of the term, James regretfully tells you that he and his family are going to Spain for the summer to be with his aunt who lives there and he really wants to take you but its the entire summer and his parents nixed it

“I’m so sorry sunshine, I really want to take you but-”

“It’s okay Jamie, I get it if you could you’d take me, but you can’t so its fine. I’m not going to hold it against you.”

And you can tell that he’s genuinely upset about it but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt any less when you hug him goodbye at King’s Cross knowing that unlike years prior you weren’t going to see him in a few days.

You spend a good chunk of the summer wallowing, not necessarily because your crush isn’t there with you but because your best friend isn’t

James writes you every day just like he did during his first year at Hogwarts but its not the same because you can’t see him

You can’t hold onto his arm when you’re tired and set your head on his shoulder

So when September 1st rolls around and you finally get to see him again you’re down right giddy

But on Platform 9 ¾ you’re looking for a wiry, lanky boy, with a nose a little too big for his face, and a squeaky little voice

Not the 6 foot man who approaches you, with broad shoulders and budding facial hair along his jawline.

“Sunshine!”

Oh holy shit

His voice

He no longer sounds like a dog toy, a very cute dog toy but still

You must admit that you’re a fan of the change, as the word leaves his lips you imagine resting your head on his chest and feeling the vibrations as he spoke with whomever

Its not a single day that you’re back at Hogwarts before James is fawning all over Lily again and you’ve had enough of it

You’re not going to let yourself to keep on pining after a boy who doesn’t love you

Not even doesn’t love you

But loves someone else

Sirius finds you a couple weeks into the school year, sitting with your back against a wall in an empty corridor trying to hold in your tears.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“I-I can’t believe I let myself fall for him. I’m an idiot Si!”

Sirius holds you in that hallway, rocking you back and forth while he murmurs to you that James is the idiot, not you, and that you deserve so much more than him

He helps you concoct a plan to get over James, he pitches to you going out on a date with someone else

Doesn’t have to be anything all that serious, just something to get your mind off James and remind you how hot you are, and how many people are lining up for you to give them so much as a moment of your time.

It doesn’t take too much on Sirius’ part to get you to agree to let him set you up

His name was Sullivan, he was in your year, a year younger than Sirius, with sandy blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes 

Sully, as he insisted you call him, took you for a butter beer at the Three Broomsticks

You had a good time, Sully was smart, and attractive, and you and he shared similar interests 

And all though he was lovely, and he insisted you were too, the both of you agreed that you would be better off as friends

You spent more time with him in the following weeks and less with James, Sirius, and Remus

The latter two were very happy that you were trying to move on because watching you stare at James was a little sad

James is confused, and hurt, and jealous

Though he adamantly refuses to admit that last one

Instead he just watches you. All. Of. The. Time.

To the point where if it wasn’t James it would be disturbing

And even though it is him it gets touch concerning

Sometimes before you go and sit with the Marauders at their spot in the Great Hall you’ll stop by where Sullivan sits with his friends and give him a smile, talk for a few minutes before hugging each other and walking away

It made James’ blood boil

Who did this kid think he was, you were his best friend he didn’t get to just waltz in and take you, or Godric forbid date you

One day you’re sitting outside with the boys when you see Sullivan on the other side of the court yard, excusing yourself you walk up to him and chat for a couple minutes before Sullivan’s face goes pale and there’s a shadow looming over you.

James throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side while extending his hand to Sully

“Hi, I’m James, (Y/N/N)’s best friend.”

James is standing there with you guys maybe 2 minutes, being the most passive aggressive petty person he could possibly be, dropping not so subtle hints about his distaste for Sully before he’s tugging you back to the tree where Siri and Remmy still are, their hands resting dangerously close to each other’s 

“What the fuck James!”

He plays dumb because if there’s one thing James Potter is good at its being an idiot, but eventually he relents

“I just don’t like the way he looks at you, it's like he’s trying to get into your pants!”

You start cackling

Borderline manically

“You’ve got to be kidding me James we’re just friends!”

Sirius being the eternally helpful human being he was added in his two cents, “Maybe you’re projecting Potter!”

And the laughing stops

James goes beet red, you feel all the blood drain from your face before collecting yourself and murmuring a quick apology before racing off for the castle 

You and James don’t talk for 2 days

It's the longest either of you have gone without some form of communication

You’re both so embarrased and you don’t want to hear James tell you that he doesn’t actually like you and that it was just Sirius being an asshole

Of course he would say this to make you comfortable but that’s not what it would do

It would crush you

You don’t have classes together so it's easy to ignore him there, and if you’re in separate houses it's even easier

Meals

Now that’s a different story

You can’t just eat somewhere else and the prospect of facing James after what Sirius said has you running for the nearest toilet

So you scrounge up what you can in the kitchen after meals

It kills James that he’s only seen you on the other side of the courtyard or disappearing behind corridors 

You’re supposed to be his Sunshine, he can’t stand that you’re hiding from him, he misses you so much

And at first he’s a little angry when you don’t sit with them at meals, but after scanning the Great Hall, he realizes you’re not there

His stomach drops, have you not been eating?

So dinner the second night he collects a plate for you with all of your favorite things and determinedly sets off for your dorm, balancing a plate in one hand and a glass of pumpkin juice in the other

He has to knock on your door with his foot

“Jamie, what’re you doing here.”

He gently pushes past you letting himself into your room to set the plate and glass on your desk

“You haven’t been eating.”

And despite yourself your heart flutters, because he’s right you haven’t been eating as much as you should’ve not wanting to get caught in the kitchens you only swiped what you could easily get your hands on

But then you have to remember, it's because you’re basically his little sister, not because he reciprocates your feelings

“I’ve missed you Sunshine.”

And you lose it

“Stop! Stop it Jamie I can’t take it anymore, you can’t keep calling me Sunshine and Sweetheart and Love and cuddle with me on the couch and then turn around and declare your undying love for Lily fucking Evans. I can’t do it anymore! I like you, differently than you like me and I can’t do this anymore!”

Poor Jamsie has never felt like more of an absolute asshole

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t revel just a little bit in the look on his face, didn’t feel a little triumph that maybe he felt even a fraction as bad as you did.

He’s an idiot and he realizes it

You’re both very quiet for a minute before he walks up to you so that you’re a mere inch from him before he gulps and leans down to press his lips to yours

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yes you are.”

“But I’m your idiot, right?”

“Always Jamsie.”

It's not as though much changes between the two of you on the surface once you’re together

You’re a bit more touchy feely with each other, kisses usually pressed to foreheads or temples often find themselves brushing at the other’s lips

He holds your hand a lot more freely now and more often than not it will end up clasping your thigh under the table in the Great Hall, or after having pushed your chairs together in the library so they touched

When you curl up together in the Gryffindor common room his hands find their way under your shirt, lightly tracing the skin of your stomach, pressing kisses to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder

His arsenal of nicknames expands impressively

Angel, darling, beautiful, gorgeous, poppet, pretty girl, mine

And he’ll add the occasional my before the word “love”

You already slept over in their dorm room every other night before you and James got together but now it's more of a nightly occurrence

Especially the day before a Quidditch match, James insists that he sleeps with his lucky charm, says you keep him calm

You cheer the hardest for James at his matches, bar maybe Sirius

Even if you’re in a different house you sit with Siri and Remus in the Gryffindor stands and get all decked out in red and gold

Now that you’re his he has no problem with Sullivan, he trusts you and by extension he trusts the people you trust

You’re touched one day, early on into your relationship, when Lily comes up to you in the Great Hall and tells you that you didn’t have to tell James to tell her that he was sorry for being a prick and not taking no for an answer.

You don’t tell her this but you didn’t ask him to do anything

James is just a good person

He also has an abundance of money and little impulse control

He’ll buy you literally anything he sees that reminds him of you, or if he remembers you bringing up that you wanted or needed it

He likes buying you jewelry because you can wear it more often than you could say the same dress or blouse

That’s not to say that he doesn’t buy you clothes too, he has all of your sizes memorized and knows whether you wear normal/petite/tall

James Potter will buy you pads/tampons/whatever product you use

He’s a man not a little boy and he doesn’t give a flying fuck if someone makes fun of him for it

One day Lucius calls him out for it and Jamie is just not having it 

“You have no clue where the clit is or what to do with it do you Malfoy?”

He’s always helped you through your periods so now that you’re together he’s just more liberal with his touch because he knows how much you love it

He knows how to do basic hairstyles and such because he watched his mom when he was a little boy and watch your mom do your hair too

If your hair requires special treatments and hairstyles he will write to your mom, asking for her to teach you because he loves your hair and wants to be able to help you, like imagine sitting in his bed while he puts braids in your hair following the instructions your mom sent him

Speaking of families when he tells Euphemia you two are together (which he does as soon as he leaves your dorm that night) she literally screams

Fleamont was worried that she was being attacked

But the next day at breakfast you get a letter from Euphemia stained with dried tear drops as she poured her heart out to you, telling you how much she loved you and that if her son ever broke your heart you were to go to her immediately and she would deal with him for you 

The year you finally become boyfriend and girlfriend is the year you all become animaguses 

James tries to argue with you, insisting that you shouldn’t do it because it's dangerous and he doesn’t want you getting hurt

Your rebuttal is that isn’t it just as dangerous for him? And if you’re not doing it neither is he and that leaves Sirius which just wouldn’t end well 

He’s so proud of you when you transform for the first time, he gets so distracted watching you that he forgets where he is for a moment

That summer, unlike the one previous, you and James spend all of your time together 

You spend the entirety of the holiday at the Potter estate doing all the things that you and Jamie used to do when you were younger, only this time its better

Instead of being childhood friends you’re each other’s 

You can kiss him, and hold his hand, and he can lift up your hair to kiss the back of your neck

Euphemia lets you guys sleep in the same bed but before that she sits the two of you down and gives you the talk

“Now (Y/N), I don’t know if your parents have ever discussed this with you but if you two are going to be sharing a bed I think it's important we go over it.”

There’s so much blushing and whining from James

“Muuuummmm.”

One night you guys are lying on the floor of his bedroom wearing the absolute bare minimum because it was so hot and humid out when you pitched the idea of going skinny dipping

James is hesitant at first because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

But you insist that you’re fine and point out to him that it was you idea not his

Being the gentleman he is when you strip by the lake he looks away making you laugh

When you turn him to look at you his jaw drops

You’re even more gorgeous than he could’ve ever imagined

It's dark out but the light from the lake allows you to drink in your figure

He blushes so much you’d think that he was the one naked

 When he does strip too he grabs you and jumps into the water, you guys are all over each other, running your hands up and down his chest, his hands are supporting your bum while your legs wrap around his waist

You have sex that night, for the first time, he was very gentle with you and holds your hand when he breaks you hymen and if you cry he kisses away your tears

“Do you wanna stop baby? Does it hurt too much? We can stop.”

James is one of two things depending on your preference

We have soft dom!James and sub!James

I personally appreciate a healthy mix of both 

Starting with soft dom!James, he would be so gentle with you 

Also very firm though, if you broke any of his rules he would not hesitate to punish you

He’s a thigh man through and through

Doesn’t matter if we’re talking dom or sub, the man lives for your thighs

Which makes his favorite form of punishment laying you across his lap to spank you, but most of the time his blows land on more of your thighs than they do your bum

He makes you count as he spanks you too and after every blow you have to thank him

“One! Thank you Daddy!”

And if you ever call him James instead of Daddy during sex he’ll stick his fingers in your mouth and make you choke on them, kissing away the tears that fall from your eyes, “S’okay baby, you’re okay. Can you do this for me? Can you take my fingers like the good girl I know you are?”

He loves taking you up against a wall, especially in the locker rooms after a Quidditch match

Shower sex is one of his favorites, thinks you look absolutely gorgeous, soaking wet and moaning for him, not to mention he get’s to fuck you up against the wall

This is the point in the headcanon where I urge you all to go read the blurbs by @randomoutsiders​ where Remus and Sirius teach James how to brat tame you, she captures his essence perfectly

He loves to blindfold you, he likes the little jump he gets out of you when he touches you

He gives you the most condescending mocking smiles

What comes to mind is the first time he makes you squirt, he’s so proud of both himself and you

“Good girl, look at that, look at how much of a mess you made for me angel. So pretty, good job.”

He then proceeds to lick the mess you just made off of you 

He loves buying you lingerie

He likes it in a deep red and black

Loves ripping it off of you, absolutely adores it 

After care with him would be so soft and sweet, he loves taking baths with you so he can clean you up and kiss all the places he left bruises while he murmurs to you about what a good girl you were and how proud he is of you

One night he tells you that if Godric forbid the two of you ever split up and you’re with someone else that after care is necessary and that you’re precious and deserved to be treated as such 

He treats you like a goddess 

Sub!James is just as precious

He’s also my current obsession so stick with me here

He’s just so eager to please, always wanting to make you feel good and not even caring all that much if he gets off himself

Just so centered around making you feel good

He calls you “Mommy” and I will not be accepting criticism

I feel like “Mistress” is too impersonal if that makes much sense

The former is just so intimate and James wears his heart out on his sleeve 

James is rarely if ever a brat, usually when he’s disappointed in himself and he takes it out on you and you have to remind him how to be a good boy

And the rest of the time when he breaks a rule it's completely on accident and he’ll come to you and tell you about it to apologize

He feels so guilty, like he’s failed you

Especially if he touches himself without your permission, it's almost enough to keep him from doing it but he’s still a horny teenaged boy and can’t help himself sometimes

Most of the time though you’ll end up with a horny James knocking on your dorm door begging you to help him 

He prefers giving you head than you giving him head

That’s not to say that the visual of you on your knees with his cock in your mouth isn’t appealing, it most certainly is 

He just loves that he can make you feel that good with just his tongue

James also loves how you taste, tells you it’s better than candy

Which makes you smile like an idiot

Will finger you under the table in the library if you ask him to, it's not like he was paying that much attention to his homework in the first place, and even if he had been you are without a doubt more important

Loves it when you ride him

Absolutely adores it, he loves the way your tits bounce which is why he prefers cowgirl to reverse cowgirl because he can keep his hands on your tits and on your thighs

He asks you for a cock ring, loves that you get to decide when he gets to cum 

Extra points if its a vibrating one

With his consent of course, you tie him up and make him watch while Sirius and Remus fuck the living day lights out of you, barely paying him any mind while you scream for the cocks of his two best friends 

He likes being tied up in general allowed to look and only look

The first time you peg him he almost cries it feels so good

And you take his sniffling as a sign he doesn’t like it and that he’s hurt, he has to explain to you that that is not it and “You make me feel so good Mommy.”

His whimpers and moans are the most precious things and he’s very vocal

Screaming your name and begging you to cum

He is not shy to beg you 

To cum

To make you cum

To get to so much as look at you

Baby boy has absolutely no shame 

I especially like sub!James because he’s such a cocky asshole 90% of the time but he’s also the kindest, most considerate soul and he spends so much of his life helping others that sometimes he just wants you to be in control

Regardless of sub or dom James you were making out on his couch that summer, your hands in his hair, his fumbling with the clasp on your bra when there was a pounding at his front door

He makes you stay where you are because he doesn’t want you to get hurt but its just Sirius

Well not just Sirius

He was bloodied and broken and looked like he’d been to hell and back

When he told the two of you what happened, how he’d been disowned and had nowhere else to go, while Euphemia tended to his wounds James engulfed him into the biggest hug and they just sit there, Sirius crying into James’ chest while James ran his hands up and down Sirius’ back whispering to him about how it was going to be alright that he was safe, that no one was ever going to hurt him again.

About 2 or so hours after you’d all retired for the night, you and James snuggled together in his bed you awoke when the door to his room creaked open

There was Sirius, with tears streaming down his face, his bottom lip wobbling

After untangling yourself from James you walked over to him, taking his hand in yours and leading him over to the bed

“James, scooch over.”

“Huh?”

“Scooch!”

When he opens his eyes and sees his Sirius standing there, bashfully ducking his head he quickly moves over and you and Sirius settle into the bed with him in the middle

You and James pet his hair hold his hands while you tell him how much the both of you love him and how you’re never going to let anything bad happen to him again

You fall asleep that night with James spooning Sirius from the back and you with your body curled into Sirius’s front, his head resting on your chest

When you go back to Hogwarts you often end up in this position in their dorm room only add Remus into the mix

You’re a year behind all of them at school meaning that when they graduate you’re still stuck their for a whole nother year without any of them

And it nearly kills all of you

You and James most, though you write to each other every day it's still not the same as him actually being there with you

When you get particularly desperate to see him he apparates to Hogsmeade where he becomes Prongs and meets you in the Forbidden Forest where you basically just spend the entire time holding each other and telling the other how much you love them

He cries at your graduation, full on blubbers 

“That’s my girl!”

Insists that you look better in your graduation cap than anyone else

Doesn’t relent when you tell him how ridiculous that is

You guys move in together as soon as you graduate, it’s barely even a discussion because you guys can always tell what the other is thinking

“Hey babe, do you wanna-”

“Yeah Jamie, when you wanna go look at apartments?”

He loves going shopping for your apartment, he has so much fun looking at color swatches and different fabrics

He insists that you guys decorate at least part of the apartment in Gryffindor colors

Wolfstar lives down the street from you guys and you have biweekly coffee dates together at a little coffee shop in between your two houses.

After a year or so you realise that you and James still aren’t married, and you get very self conscious

Does he not want to spend the rest of his life with you?

Does he not love you as much as you love him?

It completely eats you up

And James can tell that something’s up

When he asks you you confess your worries to him and his heart breaks

He never wanted to make you feel like he didn’t love you

Because of course he loved you

You were his everything, you were his Sunshine

After telling you all of this he goes rummaging through his drawers looking for something

That’s how you find him when you wake up to him accidentally dropping something results in a loud bang

“Jamie? Are you okay?”

When you find him he’s standing bashfully, blushing with his head down, his hands holding something behind his back

“James?”

And that’s when he gets down on one knee and pulls the small velvet box from behind his back

“This isn’t how I wanted to do it darling, but I spend every single day  thinking about you, you’re the first thing I think of in the morning and I fall asleep with you in my arms thinking about how much I love you and how I don’t know if I could live my life without you. I’m so sorry if I’ve ever made you feel differently, I can’t believe I was enough of an idiot to ever hurt you, in any way. Even though I most certainly don’t deserve you, would you do me the honor of making me the happiest man alive and marrying me?”

Euphemia plans your wedding with the help of Sirius

They go all out

There may or may not be a life size ice sculpture of you and James per Sirius' request

Married life is absolute bliss for the two of you

You wake up every morning with that ring on your bedside table (do people sleep in their engagement rings and wedding bands? I’m a child of divorce whose parents are both children of divorce, true love is a foreign concept) to remind you of the beautiful man beside you

Both sub and dom James go absolutely wild on your wedding night, he can’t believe your Mrs. Potter, that your his

Its that night that you pregnant

Though you don’t know it for almost 2 months 

James is the best husband 

He carries you everywhere, even when you’re not showing 

And he can because fuck that man is strong

He’ll carry you upstairs at night and down them in the morning and to the sofa 

You can only move by yourself when he’s not looking 

James is really good at puzzles and putting things together so it takes him less than 2 hours to put all the furniture together for the nursery 

Which he insists you paint yellow, the color of sunshine

One of the first things he buys is a little Gryffindor onesie for your baby

When he comes James has him in it all of the time

When you go into labor he’s very calm and collected

Euphemia is there to help the both of you because that’s the person he first called when you had your first contraction 

He holds your hand the entire time, kissing you, and coaching you along, telling you how good you’re doing, how proud he is of you

He cries when he first sees his son, he’s so beautiful 

Even though he’s basically the spitting image of James, Jamie swears that he looks so much like you

Once the doctors and nurses leave the room he climbs into bed beside you, throwing and arm over your shoulder as you cradle your little boy in your arms

“He’s beautiful Jamie.”

“Just like his mother.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts​ @kittykylax

[helliontherapscallion]

Hello! For the event, can I please get a Philza x male reader who has old scars from self harming? Like, the reader was like "Yea, I had problems with my self esteem". And Phil just comforting him? Thank you!

Food Fights and Comfort

Warnings: swearing, self harm scars, and self harm mentions (nothing graphic)

“You have no idea how hard getting that enchantment was,” Tommy groaned out through a mouthful of half-chewed food. Wilbur reached over to slap him upside the head, “don’t talk with your mouth full. No one wants to see that.”

“Fuck off Wilbur I can do what I want!” Tommy shoved more food into his mouth, chewed it up, and opened his mouth wide facing Wilbur. Your older brother wrinkled his nose in disgust before he shoveled some mashed potatoes onto his spoon and flung it at Tommy where it collided with his shirt. Tommy looked at the brunet with rage before he swallowed his food and scooped up some mashed potatoes and drew his spoon back. Philza’s hand on his arm and his warning glare made him freeze.

“Tommy, if you throw that I swear to god I’m gonna ground you for a month.”

“But- but he started it! I-”

“Let me finish. And Wilbur’s grounded from his guitar for two weeks.”

“C’mon! He-” Wilbur was cut off by Philza’s angry glare, “don’t make me extend it to a month, Wilbur.”

Technoblade leaned over to Tommy when Philza wasn’t looking and whispered in his ear, “if you do it, I’ll do your chores for two weeks.”

“Make it three and you have yourself a deal,” he hissed back at the pink haired teenager.

“...Fine, just do it.”

You silently watched as Tommy genuinely considered it before picking up his mashed potato-armed spoon and flinging the potatoes at the tall brunet next to you. They splattered on his yellow sweater making Wilbur look at him in offense before scooping his food once more and returning fire, his elbow knocking over your mug. The steaming contents of the mug splashed onto you and scalded your arms, soaking through your thick sweater.

A startled yelp left your mouth as you leapt up from your seat frantically trying to brush off the offending liquid unsuccessfully with your hands. The table fell silent as they watched you.

“Shit, I’m so sorry (y/n), I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, Wil, accidents happen. If you all would excuse me, I’m just gonna go clean myself up.”

“Here, let me help you-” Wilbur pushed himself up from his chair only to sit back down when Philza put a hand on his shoulder.

“No, you stay here and clean up this mess. This is exactly why I didn’t want you two to have a food fight, someone always gets hurt.” He walked over to you with a small, reassuring smile, “c’mon.”

You grew increasingly nervous as he led you to the bathroom, your hands pulling your sleeves down repeatedly. He didn’t know about your scars, they were something you struggled with accepting even though it’s been almost a year since you’ve stopped. You were lucky, he had adopted you just at the beginning of fall when you could wear long sleeves as much as you wanted without getting weird looks.

After sitting you on the counter, he turned to rummage in the closet for the first aid kit. From your short time here, you could already tell that the family would go through first aid kits fast. It was a very accident-but-not-really-accident prone family.

He let out a triumphant laugh as he found the box and turned around to look at you, wiggling it in the air, “found it! Now, let’s patch you up, yeah?” When you made no move to push your sleeves up, he furrowed his brows and looked at you a bit closer. He could see the shame and anxiety on your face as clear as day, confusing him to no end. From your short time living with him, you were always an open book, telling him anything whenever he would ask.

“Kid, why’re your sleeves over your hands? I’ve got to see if you have any burns, so if you could push them up I can put some ointment on them.”

You hesitated, the last time you had shown someone your scars was when you were still at the orphanage. You had shown your best friend at the time, and they exploded at you. They told you that you were a freak, that you were an emo for self harming. They ended up spilling everything to the other orphans, and word spread fast at the orphanage; every day was the same there, so they craved new information like it was an addict’s drug.

That began the assault of ‘show us your wrists’ and ‘barcode scanner’ jokes being thrown your way. You became the outcast of the orphanage as fast as you became the loved one. You weren’t sure if the adults knew about it, but if they did, they turned a blind eye to the torment you were going through. It was a miracle that you managed to stay clean during that entire time, you were so close to relapsing. If it hadn’t been for Philza adopting you when he did, you would’ve fallen back into your old ways.

You knew Philza would never do that, as he was one of the kindest people you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. However, you had thought about your ex best friend and reflected on what they did to you. Philza had something they hadn't, however, he had your complete trust.

You prepared yourself for the looks of horror and potentially getting thrown back into the orphanage and hesitantly pushed your sleeves up to your elbows. When Philza saw this, he gave you a reassuring smile and quickly got to work on your slightly burnt forearms.

The entire time, he said nothing about the blatantly obvious scars that littered your wrists. This confused you since there was no way that he didn’t see them. Before you knew it, he tied off the bandages and put his hand on yours gently.

“Those should heal soon, you just gotta keep putting ointment on it and let it breathe for a while each day. If you want to, we can go downstairs and finish our dinner.”

You snapped yourself out of the daze you were in and cleared your dry throat awkwardly, “sure, that… that sounds good.”

“Great,” he gave you another smile before he went to leave the bathroom, “I’ll meet you downstairs, just come down when you’re ready.”

“Wait!” You hadn’t meant to say it so loud that it scared the blond, but the anxiety and paranoia that almost blocked your throat forced the word to be louder than intended. He jumped slightly and looked back at you with a soft, yet questioning gaze.

You pushed your sleeves down and fiddled with the ends of them, “you’re not going to say anything?”

“I’d never force anybody to do anything they’re uncomfortable with, it’s just not the right thing to do. It’s always better to let people open up to you whenever they’re ready to,” he said, walking over to you again and standing in front of you. “The same goes to you, I’m always going to be here to listen whenever you’re ready to talk about it.”

You shrunk in on yourself slightly and nodded, contemplating on whether you should tell him about what pushed you to that point, how you were treated when you had opened up about it for the first time. Eventually, you swallowed past the lump that had formed in your throat, “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

And so you told him everything about your previously declining mental health and how the others treated you during your stay at the orphanage. Though he concealed it well, you could still see his anger when you told him about the jokes made at your expense. He never interrupted you to ask questions, he never gave you any sign of malice, he patiently waited for you to continue whenever you paused, and he always showed you that he was actively listening to you whenever you looked at him.

A part of you expected him to kick you out of his house and take you back to the orphanage, but he offered you nothing but his full support. Talking about it, though it was hard, was far easier to do compared to your previous experience. He was an easy person to talk to, radiating a welcoming and judgemental free aura.

“You’re not going to judge me?” You questioned him when you were done, anxiety gripping at your chest. He put a hand on your shoulder and shook his head, “no, you couldn’t help it; it’s heartless to judge someone based on their struggles… You’re a strong person, (y/n). It takes a lot to get yourself out of that cycle and I’m so proud of you for how much you’ve grown and persevered through what life’s thrown at you.”

“I- thanks Dad,” you wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him lightly. Without a second of hesitation, he quickly reciprocated the hug. He tucked your head underneath his chin and rubbed your back in small circles, “any time, I’m always going to be here for you. I love you so much, son.”

[heyyyharry]

She Likes Girls

(a blurb from the Flatmate series)

…in which Harry's favourite cousin, who’s a lesbian, comes visit and spends a lot of time with Y/N.

Word count: 3.2k

Someone requested ANOTHER jealous flatmate Harry blurb so I decided to write it a bit different this time ;)

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“Hi, um, does Harry live here?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, holding the door open just wide enough to show her face. The purple-haired girl she’d never met before broke into a smile and politely extended her hand. “I’m here to see him. You must be his flatmate. I’m Millie.”

“I’m Y/N.” Y/N smiled back, giving the girl’s hand a hesitant shake. She’d never seen Harry with this girl before, but the girl looked nice enough to not be a serial killer. “He’s at the library,” she told Millie. “He’ll probably be back soon. Would you like to wait inside?”

“Sure. That’d be great,” Millie said, smiling again.

Y/N pulled the door open and stepped aside for the girl to enter. Personally, Y/N would hate it when someone she’d just met would eye her up and down, but that was exactly what she was doing to Millie. She wasn’t trying to be rude. Millie was really pretty. She just didn’t look like the girls Harry would hook up with. Y/N couldn’t imagine Harry with a goth girl.

Millie placed her bag by the couch as she sat there and looked around the living room. Y/N thought of making tea for her but then she remembered that they were out of tea. She couldn't just leave Millie here and retreat to her room. So she thought she should start a conversation. She wasn’t good at conversations, but she could try.

“So how did you meet Harry?” she asked and sat down beside Millie.

“I’ve known him my whole life,” Millie said.

Y/N hadn’t expected that. “Oh...so your families are close?”

“Very.”

“Oh.”

Harry had never mentioned having a beautiful childhood best friend before. Y/N knew he didn’t have to tell her everything about himself, but why did she feel so betrayed?

Before she could come up with something else to talk about that wasn’t Harry-related, the door swung open and Harry froze in the doorway, his eyes lit up as he saw Millie.

“Mil!”

“Hazza!”

Millie launched herself out of the couch and threw her arms around Harry’s neck. Harry caught her and lifted her feet off her ground. Meanwhile, Y/N was just standing there and rubbing her hands against her jeans.

Well, this is awkward.

“I told you I’d pick you up at the airport!” Harry said, putting the girl down and cupping her face.

Millie brushed his hands off as she snorted. “Well, I got here early to surprise you.”

Watching Harry laugh and ruffle Millie’s hair, Y/N had never felt more like a third-wheel. She would go if her anxiety hadn’t glued her feet to the floor.

“How long are you staying?” Harry asked.

“A week,” Millie said.

“Yessss!” Harry punched the air, then finally noticed Y/N standing awkwardly behind Millie. He smiled and wrapped an arm around Millie’s neck, gesturing to Y/N. “Oh, I see that you’ve met Y/N.”

“Yes, she was very nice to me,” Millie said. “And you never told me that your flatmate was so pretty.”

Y/N let out a nervous laugh. “Thank y—”

“Stop,” Harry cut her off, his smile vanished as he shot Millie a glare.

“What?” Millie looked just as confused, but something about her wide-eyed expression told Y/N that she was faking it.

Harry turned back to Y/N. “Was this one flirting with you?”

“What?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Millie always does that. She cannot help herself.”

“I learned from the best,” Millie said, smirking.

It took Y/N a second to understand. She pointed to Millie, her eyes round and her mouth wide open. “So Millie is...”

“My cousin,” Harry said.

“And a lesbian,” Mille added as she pat Harry on the shoulder. “Even if I were into boys and not his cousin, I still wouldn’t want him. I’ve got standards.”

“Hey!” cried Harry yet Millie ignored him.

“He’s jealous because I get more girls,” she said.

“Lies!” Harry hissed and told Y/N, “Don’t believe anything she tells you about me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N uttered. “I thought—”

“It’s okay,” Millie cut her off, giving her a gentle smile. “I know my cousin. He’s got quite a reputation around here. I could hear a girl crying and cursing his name the second I landed in London.”

Y/N giggled as Harry rolled his eyes. “Just don’t flirt with my flatmate while you’re here.”

“Oh, she wasn’t...flirting with me,” Y/N said.

Millie tilted her head, her green eyes narrowed as her black lips stretched to its favoured side. “You didn’t know I was flirting? Man, I must try harder next time.”

Y/N stiffened. She could feel the colour heightened in her cheeks.

“Stop teasing her. Damn it,” Harry told Millie. To Y/N, he said, “She was joking.”

“I’m sorry! Gosh, you’re blushing!” Millie cupped Y/N’s face as she burst out laughing. “You’re so cute. How can someone like you live with him?”

“I ask myself that question every day,” Y/N mumbled, feeling quite proud when Millie laughed even harder. She liked making people laugh, especially people who seemed much cooler than she was; it made her feel validated somehow.

“So where do I sleep?” Millie asked Harry, putting an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. Harry immediately plucked that arm off and pushed Millie aside to stand between them. “On the couch,” he said. “Or on the floor in my room.”

“You're such a dick,” Millie scoffed.

“You could sleep with me. We could share my bed,” Y/N said.

Both Millie and Harry whipped their heads to her but only Millie’s face brightened with a smile. “Oh, thank you, I–”

“You know what?” Harry blocked Millie with his outstretched arm before she could pull Y/N into a hug. “Take my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Millie raised an eyebrow at him, a corner of her mouth quirked and she tiptoed to stroke the top of his head. “Now that’s my good baby cousin.” Then she picked up her bag, flipped her black hair over her shoulder and sauntered to Harry’s room.

Harry turned to Y/N and gave a tight smile. “You don’t mind her staying, right?”

“Of course not,” Y/N giggled. “I like her.”

Harry arched both eyebrows, looking genuinely concerned. “But not too much.”

“No, no, not like that!” Y/N shook her head fast. “She’s just really cool. And...um...cool people don’t usually like me. So…”

Harry pressed his lips into a small smile. For a second, Y/N thought he looked rather relieved. “If she annoys you with all the flirting and her bad jokes,” he said, “just tell her to stop. Don’t be nice about it.”

Y/N squinted her eyes. “So she’s the female version of you.”

“Yes. Only better,” Harry chuckled. “That’s why she’s my favourite cousin.”

.

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.

“Remember when I said Millie was my favourite cousin?”

“Yeah, why?” Niall shouted over the music. Harry leaned against the wall. With a constipated look on his face, he watched Millie dance with Y/N from across the room.

“She’s not anymore,” he mumbled spitefully.

Niall stopped dancing and raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Who’s your favourite cousin then?”

“Jared.”

“Didn’t you say Jared helped Mason drown you?”

Harry threw his arms in the air. “So I don’t have a favourite cousin! Jesus, Niall, that’s not the point. The point is–”

Niall stared as he waited for Harry to finish the sentence. “The point is what?”

Harry’s mouth was open, but he saw Millie put an arm around Y/N’s neck and kiss her cheek as they took a selfie, and he suddenly forgot what the point was.

Niall gave his shoulder a gentle push so he snapped out of it, heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never mind. I’ve been having a bad week since she arrived.”

“But you were so excited to see her. You told me you’d had plans for both of you to spend time together.”

Harry lifted his shoulder and forced his attention to stay on Niall and not Millie and Y/N. “I did, but she doesn’t want to hang out with me.” Y/N didn’t either. “She’s spent every second in our flat doing girls stuff with Y/N. They’re attached at the hips now. Last night they stayed up until 3 AM to gossip. The walls are thin, you know? They’re messing up my sleep schedule.”

Niall was quiet for a moment before he said, “Do you think…”

“What?” Harry snapped.

Niall pursed his lips and shrugged. “I don’t know...Maybe...Y/N likes girls?”

“No, Niall. Y/N doesn’t like girls,” Harry said bitterly even though he’d been worried about that as well. The problem wasn’t that Y/N might be into girls. Harry didn’t care about that. It was the fact that Millie had never failed to get the girls she wanted. The only thing that Harry had that she didn’t was commitment issues. Millie’s last relationship had lasted a year.

It was bad enough that Harry had to fight off the other guys who wanted Y/N and might actually deserve her. He didn’t want to have to do that with his girl cousin!

“Y/N doesn’t like Millie like that, okay?” he repeated to Niall, frowning as he saw Millie and Y/N laughing again.

“Harry!” Layla’s voice brought him back to reality. He shot his head up to see her shouldering her way toward him and Niall. “You didn’t tell me your crush was gay! Niall, did you film him crying in the bathroom?”

Harry facepalmed himself as Niall said, “Told ya.” and gave him a shrug.

Later that night, as they walked home together from the party, Harry purposely stayed silent so that the girls would know he was mad at them. He had no right to be mad at either of them, but he felt like he should be mad if that was the only way to get their attention. Y/N was his flatmate, and Millie was his cousin. But now they were walking ahead, arms around each other and completely not noticing how upset he was. He told himself it was only because they were a bit tipsy. But he hated being left out.

“I’m going to sleep early,” he announced the second they entered the flat.

“Okay,” Y/N said.

“I’m really tired,” he added to drop a hint so she’d know he was upset.

“So am I,” she said, yawning and stretching her arms.

He was trying to think of something else to say that’d get her attention when Millie interjected, “Wanna sheet mask before bed?”

“Yes!” Y/N exclaimed. Then they hurried into Y/N’s room, leaving Harry standing there like a scarecrow in his own flat.

“I’ve got my own masks. Thanks for asking,” he muttered bitterly to himself, rolling his eyes and trudging to his room.

And so Harry decided to go to sleep early. He spent the first thirty minutes on the mattress by his bed, rolling from side to side, trying not to think about the two of them until he nodded off. When he woke up, it was three in the morning. The flat was so quiet and his bed was still empty.

Where was Millie?

He tried to listen through the wall to see if the girls were still awake, but there was no sound.

Annoyed, sleepy, and sad, he forced himself to get up and go to Y/N’s room to tell Millie that she must let Y/N sleep. When he got there, he found that the door was left open. The girls were fast asleep on the bed. And Millie was spooning Y/N.

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“You look like shit. Didn't you sleep at all?” was the first thing Millie said to Harry as he entered the kitchen the next morning.

He pretended like he hadn’t heard it and angrily marched toward the table, when all he wanted to say was, “And you look overly happy after sleeping in the same bed with my girl.” It sounded way too petty, but he was exhausted and not in the mood to feel guilty about it.

As he buried his head in his hands, Millie placed a cup of black coffee down in front of him. He looked up and caught her grinning.

“One cup of black coffee every Monday morning,” she said.

He blinked, confused and a bit surprised. “I don’t remember telling you that.”

“You didn’t. Y/N did.” To his astonishment, she added, “I’ve learned more about you in the last couple of days from her than I have by knowing you my whole life.”

This caught Harry off guard. He found himself sitting rigid in his seat. He was probably gaping at his cousin, because she tossed her head back and laughed and pulled up a chair to sit down beside him. “That’s all she does,” Millie said.

Harry scrunched up his face. “What?”

“Y/N. She always talks about you,” Millie giggled.

Harry tried not to react, but when he spoke, his voice wavered as if he couldn’t breathe properly. “S-She talks about me? What has she told you?”

“Surprisingly, only good things,” Millie said. “Like, we would do something like listen to music and she’d randomly say, ‘Harry likes this song.” Or we would be wandering around the mall and she’d see a shirt and tell me, ‘Harry would love that shirt but he hates it when people buy him clothes so I can’t buy it for him.” And just yesterday’s morning, she saw me making coffee and told me you’d always drink black coffee on Monday morning and only on Monday morning.” Millie chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “I thought hearing so much about you would annoy me. But I actually find it super cute that she cares so much about you to notice every one of those annoying little details.”

Harry felt his cheeks growing hot. His silence was the confession Millie had been waiting for. She smacked him on the arm as laughter crackled out of her. “You’re blushing! Oh my God, you have a crush on her!”

“I do not!” he retorted.

“You do!” She slammed her fist on the table, smiling with her mouth open. “And you thought I had a thing for her, didn’t you?! You were cranky last night because you were jealous!”

“Not true!” Harry gasped and quickly got up. Millie jumped in his way, not letting him off the hook so easily. “Admit it!”

“There’s nothing to admit.”

He attempted to sidestep her yet she was quicker. She folded her arms and leaned a shoulder against the kitchen doorway. “I know that face, Hazza. You made the same face when we were kids and found a lost puppy in the park and the puppy grew more attached to me.”

Harry pointed to himself. “I found the puppy okay? The puppy was mine first.”

"You petty little shit!" Millie’s jaw dropped, then she poked at the left side of his chest. “I didn’t know this thing worked. Wow, a miracle named Y/N!”

Harry smirked and brushed her finger off. “Very funny, Mil.”

“It sure the fuck is. I can’t believe you thought I was into her. One look at Y/N and I knew she wasn’t gay. My gaydar is never wrong.”

“Good to know,” Harry said flatly. “Now can I please get out of this kitchen?”

Millie ignored his question as she eyed him up and down and chewed the inside of her cheek to suppress a smirk. “You two are in love with each other.”

“No, we’re not. We’re friends,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow. “And I was only mad because you came here to see me but spent all your time with her.”

“Oh, please. Do not make this about me. You’re so in love with her it’s embarrassing.”

“In love with who?”

Harry almost screamed when Y/N appeared in the doorway. Somehow he managed to keep his calm and force a laugh. “Jennifer Aniston! Beautiful, beautiful woman!"

Y/N looked at him funny, probably assuming he was high on caffeine. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Millie fighting the urge to expose him.

“I’m going out now,” she said to his relief. “Gonna meet up with some old friends today. You kids have a great day.” Backing out of the door, she did the finger-guns and winked at him. “We’ll talk more about Jennifer Aniston when I get back.”

“No, we won’t!” he shouted after her.

Once his cousin was gone, Harry felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. Y/N didn’t seem to suspect a thing. She tiptoed to get a cereal box from the cabinet while humming a song she’d been listening to on repeat for the last few days.

Yes, she wasn’t the only one paying attention.

He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and padded to her side. “Hey, Y/N.” When she turned around and smiled at him, he almost forgot what to say. “I-I um...I was thinking of buying a new shirt, and um...I was wondering if you could go with me, to help me pick one.”

Y/N suddenly broke into a huge grin. “Yes! I know this shop–” she blurted but then her mouth snapped shut and she lowered her voice. “I mean, yeah, sure, I know a shop...I think...But didn’t you say you preferred going shopping alone?”

Harry gave a half-shrug. “It’s getting boring. Doing things alone, I mean...”

Her lips curved into a cute little smile. “Let’s go this afternoon,” she said. “I feel like we haven’t hung out in days. You were always busy.”

Harry was taken aback. He pointed to his face. “Me? Busy?”

“Yeah, well, you seemed...not yourself. I thought you were stressed out about an exam.”

“No, not at all,” he mumbled, turning his face to hide his blushing.

She giggled softly. “Okay. So...it’s a date?”

“Yeah. A date.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah, cool.”

“Cool,” she echoed.

Harry nodded once then grabbed his coffee and sauntered out of the kitchen before he could embarrass himself again. Suddenly, his phone chimed with a new text and he pulled it out of his pocket to see that it was from Louis.

Hey, Niall told me. I found this article that might be helpful. Stay strong!

Then a link to: “How to deal with depression when your crush turns out to be gay.”

Harry threw his head back and exhaled.

He was going to murder Niall.

[wavesmp3]

before sunrise

kevin moon x reader   - strangers to lovers au, fluff  - based off the movie before sunrise   - wc. 9.4k   - warnings: mentions of alcohol, lots of dialogue, cursing, and a few attempts at comedy

synopsis → You and Kevin Moon only have one night together before his flight leaves the next morning. And before meeting Kevin, you never would’ve believed that one night is long enough to fall in love with someone.

The train rattles on and on, a blur of colors painted beyond the small window you rest your head against. A headache is forming, between your ears and behind your eyes, a small thrumming that’ll make the rest of this train ride unbearable if you don’t end whatever’s causing it. Except you don’t know whether to blame the rattling train or the lovers' quarrel from the couple sitting across from you. 

You make another attempt to ignore the rattling and the arguing, holding your book closer to your face and starting the same paragraph you’ve been on since boarding the train. The effort does little to help on either account. You sigh, loudly, in the hopes that your annoyance stings the ears of the couple next to you. It does not. So you get up, gather your things, and move further down the car. 

You settle into a new seat, the couple’s argument still audible but less intruding than it had been when you were sitting right beside them. You open your book to restart the same paragraph when someone interrupts you. Again. 

“Hey, do you have any idea what those two are fighting about?” 

You look up from between the pages, lifting your eyes to meet those of the person who spoke to you without lowering the book itself. You stare at him, taken aback almost, by asymmetry of the smile he’s directed towards you and how charmed you are by it. You swallow. 

“Oh, sorry,” his body caves inwards, scratching a spot behind his neck, “do you speak English?”

You nod, too eagerly. “Yeah, no, I speak English. Just no clue what they’re arguing about.” You lower the book, folding in the page you’ve yet to move on from and leaning forward in your seat, just enough to catch sight of the couple whose voices get louder with each passing moment. “My German is not very good.”

“Ah,” the boy mutters, his pitch-black hair falling in front of his eyes, “that’s what that is.” He turns back to you, looks at you expectantly almost, then awkwardly laughs sitting back in his chair. He gestures to your book. “I’ll let you get back to it. Sorry to bother.”

And you’re about to tell him it’s fine, that you don’t mind the small talk, when you notice the book laying in his lap and the finger he has shoved between the pages to mark his spot. And the words sort of fall back down your throat once you do. 

You return to your book, not even bothering to start the paragraph for what feels like the thousandth time. Instead, you stare at the printed page, passively listening to the heated German flying between the couple and thinking about the boy sitting across the aisle from you. 

The couple stands up suddenly, dramatic enough to make half the car look up at them. One of them makes their way down the aisle in your direction, walking hurriedly and shrugging off the hand their partner places on their arm, as if they could not get way fast enough. You look towards the boy across from you with a raised brow. He makes a face at you, lifting his shoulders and shaking his head. You bite back a laugh, eyes following the couple as they exit the car. The sliding door opens with a whoosh and closes, their absence swallowing the car in silence.  

“What are you reading?” The guy asks, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. 

You hold up the cover of your book for him to see. “You?” 

He looks down at his lap, pursing his lips and chuckling a bit, hesitating, as if he wasn’t expecting you to return the question. He holds up the book. 

“Series of unfortunate events?” You murmur, recognizing the cover. 

“In my defense, I’m rereading it.” 

“No judgement.” You tell him, lifting up your hands in surrender. “I read it when I was young as well.” 

“It’s a good series, right?” You nod. “Thank you.” He huffs, resting his back against the train seat. 

“Although, I’m not sure if it’s good enough to reread. Not sure I get why people reread anything, actually. I mean there are so many books out there, why bother rereading one you’ve already read?” 

He shrugs at that, tilting his head and gaze fixed on the book. “Nostalgia, I guess.” 

You accept the answer with a nod. The couple returns then, and the clamor of their argument returns with them. You both watch as they pass by your seats. 

“Hey,” the guy begins again, sitting up in his seat and shifting his body until he’s in the aisle seat instead of the one by the window, “I was thinking of going to the lounge car. Would you wanna come with?” 

“Yeah, sure.” You lean towards him. “Why not?”

— 

“I’m Kevin Moon by the way.” He says once you’re both seated, extending his hand. You take it; give him your name. And there’s a draft that runs through the lounge car when he repeats it to himself. “So are you coming from Copenhagen too?” 

“Yeah, I was visiting some family there?” 

He nods. “And how are they?” 

You laugh, giggle really, awkwardly despite the faux intimacy of his question. Nodding, you answer: “They’re great. Well—great is a bit much. Content, perhaps?” 

“Content sounds good.” 

“So where are you getting off?” 

“Amsterdam.” 

“What’s in Amsterdam?” 

“No clue.” You laugh at the response, or maybe it’s at the quirk of his brow and the nervous tapping against his knee. “I have a flight out of there tomorrow morning. So I was thinking I’d explore the city some, attempt to experience all of Amsterdam in one night.” 

“Yeah, and where are you flying to?” 

“Back home.”

“Let me guess,” you start, a teasing lilt in your voice, “America?” 

“Canada, actually.” He proudly corrects. “Where are you from?” 

“All over.” You gesture around vaguely. “Moved around a lot growing up. And now I’m in Paris.” 

“Is that where you’re getting off?” He asks, leaning forward. You nod. “Why Paris?” 

“University.” 

“Oh,” he looks shocked, “which one?” 

“Would you even know it if I said?” 

His mouth parts, eyes darting around somewhere above your head. “Yeah, probably not.” 

“What about you?” You ask once your laughter has died down. “Still in school?” 

He’s quick to shake his head. “Gosh, no. School was never really for me.”

“Why not?” 

“I-“ he falters, tilting his head back at the question, “well, why are you still in school?” 

“No real reason.” You plan to leave it at that, but when you look up at him, keenly waiting for you to continue, some part of you wants to elaborate on it as well. “Sort of like I’m not sure what I’d do with myself once I finish.” 

“I feel that.” 

“You feel that?” You echo, a laugh dancing under the question. 

“Yeah.” He answers sincerely, eyes fixated on you and surprisingly serious. “I do.” 

“Oh,” you blurt, taken aback by how genuinely he means it.

The waiter appears then, handing you menus and taking your orders after. 

“So of all the places you’ve lived, which one felt the most like home?” 

You think over the question, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek. “Maybe Copenhagen. I have the most family there.” You add as a half-hearted explanation. “But I don’t know, I guess no place has felt much like home yet.” 

“Not even Paris?” 

You shake your head. “There’s this quote that goes: what is a home if not the first place you learn to run from.”

“So is that what Paris is?” He asks, resting his head against his hand. “The place you ran to?” 

You shrug. “Something like that.” 

There’s a beat of silence, somehow you spend the entirety of it starting at Kevin. “You seem to be very well read.” He says finally, looking away first and folding a napkin over his lap. 

“It’s just one quote.” 

“One more than me.”  

“Maybe if you stopped rereading ‘the series of unfortunate events’, we’d be on even footing.” 

He gasps. “You said ‘no judgement’.” 

“It’s called being polite.” He shakes his head disapprovingly. “So how about you? Were you just visiting Copenhagen, or…?” 

“No, I’ve done the whole tour. Started in Madrid, hit Paris, Rome, Vienna, Budapest, Berlin, London, Athens, Prague, Florence, Lisbon… you know, all the big ones.” 

“I hope not in that order.” 

He laughs brightly. “No, not in that order. Thanks for the vote of confidence though.” 

“Of course.” 

“But, yeah, I bought the Eurail Pass a while back and decided I would see as much as I could.” 

“How long have you been here?” 

“About a month and a half now.” 

“Wow. And just for a holiday or?” 

“Yeah, well,” his face turns down, a cloud passing across the sun and casting a shadow over the table, “I had a friend in Madrid, but, uh, mainly—yeah, mainly vacation.” 

You don’t prod any further, nodding at his half-baked answer. 

“But what I’ve come to realize,” he continues on, “during these past few weeks, is that there’s something special about just sitting on a train and staring out the window.” 

“What’s special about it?” 

“For starters,” he gestures to the rolling green hills outside the window, “it’s beautiful. But also, I get these ideas while sitting here.” 

“What sorts of ideas?” 

“Like,” he hesitates, leaning back towards you, “well it’s gonna sound dumb to say outloud.” 

You watch him carefully. The asymmetrical smile that you first noticed appearing on his lips again. And maybe that’s what makes you lean towards him and say, 

“Try me.” 

— 

“Hey,” you push away your now empty plate and tap on the window as the train rolls to a stop, “isn’t this Amsterdam?” 

“Oh yeah,” Kevin checks his watch, “it is. I guess I lost track of time sitting here.” You check the time yourself and realize it’s been over two hours.

“Well for what it’s worth, I really enjoyed talking with you,” you tell him, shifting in the seat. 

He returns the sentiment, and you both continue to go back and forth until the train does actually stop, a loud whistle traveling through the lounge car.  

“Well, this is me.” He says softly, sucking in his bottom lip. 

You extend out your hand. “Nice to meet you, Kevin Moon.”

He shakes it. “Nice to meet you too.”

You watch him go, lugging a duffle bag by his hip and pulling a pink beanie over his hair. And once the door to the lounge car closes swiftly behind him, you slump into the chair resting your head against the window and scanning the group of people on the platform outside of it. Maybe, you think to yourself, I’ll catch him leaving.

“Okay, I have a crazy idea.”

You jump at the sound of his breathless voice, jolting up in your seat. “Kevin, what are yo—”

“Blow off Paris for one more night.”

“What?”

“Just—like I know this is crazy—but just listen for a second.” He tosses his duffle bag into the seat that was occupied by him a minute ago and places both his hands on the table, leaning down slightly. An action that leaves no room for you to think he’s joking. “My flight only leaves tomorrow morning, and I was planning on wasting time in Amsterdam until then. So come with me, let’s hang out for the night, and you can catch the first train back to Paris. I haven’t had a conversation like the one we just had in so long, and I don’t really want to say bye yet. So, let’s just see where this goes. And if it sucks or if you realize you hate me, then you leave, and we part ways just like that. No strings, no obligations.” He pauses there, chewing on his bottom lip and fingers curling around the edge of the table.

And for some reason, after his whole speech, you find yourself thinking about the arguing couple from the other car.

You grab your things. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Come on,” a grin fights its way onto your face, excitement teetering in every part of your body, “let’s go.”

And some small of part of you that’s hanging onto reason knows this is a terrible idea, a reckless and stupid idea that you would chide the protagonist of a horror movie for. But another part of you, the same part that can’t get over Kevin’s asymmetrical smile and the same part that said yes when he asked if you wanted to go to the lounge car, is too enthralled with the idea of continuing whatever this is to say no.

So this time when Kevin leaves, you don’t watch him go; instead, you follow him off of the train.

—

You’ve been to Amsterdam before, once on a holiday with your family that you can barely remember and again on a school trip when you were much younger. But despite the two times you’ve been to this city, walking beside the street and admiring the brightly painted buildings with Kevin feels like a first.  

And after seven minutes of mindlessly walking around Amsterdam with a complete stranger, the reality of your earlier choice strikes you like a burst of wind across the cheek. The exhilaration that compelled you to get off the train withering away with each step. Not a word has passed between either of you since agreeing to Kevin’s plan.

“This is,” you start, voice hoarse and hiding a shy laugh behind your palm. “This is weird.”

“No, yeah, it’s awkward, right?” Kevin smiles, scratching a part of his neck. “Do you…” he shoves his fists into the pockets of his coat, “do you regret getting off the train with me?” He laughs after he asks the question, as if he’s embarrassed to even bring it up.

“No,” you tell him honestly, scuffing your shoes against the pavement and avoiding looking at him. “Not yet.”

In a corner of your vision, you see him nod, then smile. The asymmetrical one that first caught your attention. And in that moment, a tiny spark of exhilaration returns.

—

You and Kevin find yourselves in an art museum. The first activity you could find to fill in all the awkward silences. You take turns acting as guides explaining the curation of each piece of art. A suggestion that you had made and then come to regret when Kevin tries to argue that a modern sculpture of sunflowers is actually just the Shrek movies reimagined.

“And see that part,” he says animatedly, pointing at a corner of the piece, “is actually depicting that once scene in the beginning of Shrek 2 when—”

You just laugh, shoving his arm playfully and wandering on to the next piece.

“Hey,” Kevin calls from further along the wall, “come look at this one.”

“So, what is this one about?” You tease, meeting him beside the art piece. “Ice Age or Monsters Inc?”

“No bullshit explanation this time, actually.” He mumbles, eyes trained on the art still. “I really like this one.”

You take a moment to study the painting, done by an impressionist artist according to the blurb beside it. The piece depicts a whole bunch of couples dancing on a street.

“I like how the background is all a blur.” Kevin says. “As if each of the couples are so occupied with themselves that everything else sort of fades.”

“I think my favorite part,” you start, taking a step towards the painting, “is how the girl in this pair and the guy in this one are painted like their fading. Makes me feel like they aren’t real; like they’re a dream or a memory.”

“Or a ghost.” 

“Yeah,” you smile at the thought, “or a ghost.”

Kevin leans down to read about the piece. “It’s called ‘Lovers Embrace’” 

“I like it.” You declare, thinking over how fitting the title is.

He straightens back up, smiling. “Me too.”

—

The art museum is effective in easing the awkwardness between you and Kevin, acting as a distraction from the insanity of the current circumstances and your belated recognition of it, so that now, while meandering about a record shop he found, conversation flows as easily as it did in the lounge car. And when you realize that, another bit of your exhilaration returns, bursting within your chest and fluttering against your gut.

“I have an idea.” Kevin announces as you finger through a section of records.

“Another one?” You deadpan. 

He flicks your arm, continuing, “We both pick a record to listen to. And then a random, third one for good measure.”

“How are we picking the third one?”

He hums in thought, drumming his fingers against the shelf. “Okay, I got it. Close your eyes.”

You point a finger at yourself. “Me?”

He squints at you, dramatically looking side to side and bringing the emptiness of this portion of the store to your attention. “Who else?”

“Fine but--”

“Just close them.”

With a long sigh, you do.

“Okay,” Kevin murmurs, spinning you around by the shoulders. He jerks you to a stop. “Now choose a record.” You push your hand out, feeling around for the nearest rack of records. “No, that’s boring.” He complains. “You have to walk around a little bit.”

“You know, we could’ve avoided this if you just chose the random record instead of me.” You huff at him, slowly walking around with your eyes still closed as per Kevin’s request.

“Watch out,” he warns, ignoring your comment, “you’re about to hit a stand.”

Eventually, you walk far enough from the place you started at. Blindly reaching out to the rack, you chose a record that feels the most worn around the edges. You open your eyes, blinking, and are about to read the cover when Kevin stops you suggesting you both wait until you’re in the listening booth. You agree, parting ways to pick your own record to listen to.

After a few minutes of browsing the store, you meet with Kevin outside of the listening booth, two records under your arm.

“Play yours first.” Kevin says, stepping into the booth with you. You pull the record out of its sleeve and place it in position. 

Moon river, wider than a mile

“Ah,” he sighs, as the song begins to play, “I love this song.”

I’m crossing you in style someday

You swallow back a smile and mutter a small ‘me too’.

Wherever you’re going, I’m going your way. Two drifters off to see the world

“Kind of fitting, isn’t it?” He asks, laughing lightly and knocking his head back against the wall of the booth.

“Part of the reason I chose it.” You explain, turning your head towards him just in time to catch his eyes fluttering shut. An action that sends a familiar burst of exhilaration running heavily over your chest. He looks at peace like this, you think, his gold frames resting on the middle of his nose and a tuft of black hair slipping out from under his beanie. It’s only when the song ends, the repeated skipping of the needle replacing Sinatra’s voice, do you realize you’ve spent the entirety of it staring at Kevin. His eyes snap open at that moment; you’re quick to look away, busying yourself with the drawstring of your bag and ignoring the warmth that fills your body.

Kevin removes your record and fixes the one he chose in place. The song starts on a familiar chord. 

Kelly, can you handle this?

You shoot him a look, just barely holding your laughter in.

“I know. Totally different vibe from ‘Moon River’ but this is the only Beyoncé song I could find.”

I don’t think they can handle this.

You start singing along. Kevin joins, dancing along as well despite how small the booth is. And when he starts twerking, you spend the last two minutes of the song laughing in shock.

The song ends, after Kevin declares his love for Beyoncé. You hand the Destiny’s Child record back to Kevin and pull the final, random record out of its sleeve and set it in place.

“How’s your Italian?” Kevin asks, as you straighten back up waiting for the song to play.

“No better than my German. Why?” He flips the vinyl’s cover around to show you. “Il Mondo by Jimmy Fontana,” you mutter as the first note rings throughout the booth. 

No stanotte amore non ho più pensato a te

Kevin finds the translation online, scooting closer until the side of his arm is pressed against yours, phone tilted so that you can see. You lean in to better read the lyrics.

Gira, il mondo gira, nello spazio senza fine Turning, the world’s turning, in a space without end

Your eyes catch Kevin’s for the briefest of moments before he looks away, quickly refocusing his gaze on the opposite side of the booth.

Con gli amori appena nati, con gli amori già finiti With the lovers just now starting, with the lovers already parting

You don’t return to the lyrics, instead watching as his focus ping pongs between the phone screen and the wall.

Con la gioia e col dolore della gente come me With the joy and with the hurt of the people like me

His eyes flit over to your face. You look down, pretending to read the lyrics, swallowing.

Il mondo The world

And from a corner of your vision, you can see him watching you, can feel his eyes on you. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore how good it feels to know he’s staring. 

Soltanto adesso io ti guardo, nel tuo silenzio io mi perdo Just now I see you, in your silence I lose myself

There’s a jerk of movement from Kevin. But the second you angle your head towards him, he tilts his chin up, smiling at the ceiling and tongue running over his teeth. You stare at him and consider for a moment: tearing your eyes off him, turning your head down again, and pretending to read the lyrics. But as quickly as the thought comes, it passes. And you find it impossible to care that he knows you’re staring, figuring that it’d be just as impossible to make yourself look away.

E sono niente accanto a te I am nothing beside you

His chin falls at the line, dark brown eyes dancing around the room before landing on yours. And this time, you don’t look away. There’s a sharp inhale. A loud gulp. The slightest turn of your body and an even smaller glance at the curve of his lips. His fingers flex, knocking against your knuckles, lingering for too long to be accidental. And it’s like time stops at that moment, like all the clocks in the world cease to tick, making you and Kevin halt as well, standing still, unmoving, staring at each other as if you hadn’t spent the past minute avoiding each other’s eyes. 

And you swear, if the music hadn’t stopped, the scratching needle cutting into the air, you would’ve fell in love with Kevin right then. 

—

“A piano,” you point out as you and Kevin are about to leave from the record shop. You go to it, admiring the dark brown wood and fingers ghosting over the ivory keys.

“Do you know how to play?” Kevin joins you in the corner of the shop that houses the piano.

“Gosh, no.” You pause, your middle finger hovering over a black key and tilt your head towards him. “Do you?”

He nods, taking a seat on the bench and patting the spot beside him for you. He starts playing a song you don’t recognize but one that manages to sound vaguely familiar anyways. Like it was playing in the background of a movie you can no longer remember the name of, or like you met the song in a dream and memorized the melody in your sleep before waking up the next morning.

And maybe it’s because you know this song without having ever heard it before or maybe it’s because the chords have been sitting in your soul every night since that forgotten dream but something about the song and something about this moment, makes you scoot closer to Kevin and rest your head against his shoulder.

He stops, barely, for the tiniest of seconds, fingers hesitating above the next key, then continues a breath later. And sometime between the end of this song and the start of the next, you feel his head lean back against yours.

—

You and Kevin decide to get dinner after leaving the record shop, choosing the first place you can find to fill your empty stomachs.

“Let’s ask each other some questions.” You suggest while you’re waiting for the food to come out. “One to help us get to know each other better, and we have to answer one hundred percent honestly.” 

“Okay,” he nods, “I’ll start. Favorite color?”

“Green.”

“Gold.”

“Favorite movie?”

“Up.”

“Howl’s Moving Castle.” 

You both continue like that asking each other for even more favorites: favorite food, favorite show, favorite holiday, favorite city. Vancouver, Kevin had answered to which you scoffed complaining that choosing his hometown is cheating. He only shrugged. You move onto firsts after: first phone, first kiss, first childhood memory, first job, first celebrity crush. 

“You’re turn to ask.” You remind, hoping to quickly move on after confessing your childhood obsession with Chad Michael Murray. 

“Okay,” Kevin hums, contemplating a new question and twirling his drink around, “how about… first love?” 

“Oh, uh,” you scratch a spot on the table, “I’m not really sure I’ve ever been in love.” You pause there, expecting Kevin to say something. He does not. “Like I’ve dated before,” you sputter out quickly, filling in the empty space left by his nonexistent reply, “seriously, too. But I don’t think it was ever actually love.” 

His mouth parts, chest inflates slightly, as if the words need a minute to boil in the back of his throat. They must never come, you think when his mouth closes and his chest deflates, lips tightly shut. A silence crashes over the table, awkwardly taut. 

“What about you?” You return the question, cutting through the silence with what you hope is nonchalance. 

“Oh, me,” he chuckles sheepishly, “probably freshman year band. I fell so hard for this oboe player.” You give him a look at the confession, sucking in your bottom lip and biting back a laugh. His face twists with confusion. “What?” 

“I just can’t believe I got off a train with a band geek.” 

“Hey,” he defends, “better than a serial killer.” 

You shrug. “Not by much.” 

— 

It was Kevin’s idea to rent a boat to ride along the canal in. “The little foot pedaling ones,” he had requested, pointing them out. Luckily, you were able to find one before they shut down for the day. And the late timing of your activity made for a picturesque backdrop, the sun beginning to set as you drift along the canal, the sky immersed in varying hues of pink, yellow, and blue. Kevin had paused pedaling for a second to take a picture of the sunset which was fine until one picture turned into fifty. 

“You know when you said you wanted to boat along the canal I sort assumed you were gonna help me pedal.” 

“Last one.” He mumbles, the small shutter of his phone camera clicking before he shoves it back in his pocket and resumes pedaling with you. “More favorites?” He offers when the silence lingers for a little too long. 

“Please, no. I know way too much about you now.” He laughs at that. “New topic.” 

“Do you ever think about dying?” 

You whip your head towards him. “Morbid much?” 

“Yeah, I know, but seriously.” He says, brows lifted to further prove the sincerity of his question. “Do you?” 

You turn back to the front. “I mean I’m alive, so yeah, sometimes. You?” 

“Probably think about it too much if I’m being honest.” And there’s something that sounds distinctly like exhaustion in the way he says it. 

“Would you rather know how you die or when you die?” You ask suddenly. 

His answer comes just as quick. “When. Definitely when.” 

“Why?” 

“I feel like if I were to be told how I die, I’d spend the rest of my life avoiding it or trying to stop it. But there isn’t anything I can do to avoid the passing of time.” 

“Profound.” You mutter, unable to figure out if you’re surprised or shocked by how well-thought his answer sounds. 

“I told you,” he says, with a breathy laugh, “I think about death too much.” 

“What about a goal in life?” 

“What about it?” 

“Have one?” 

He considers the question, eyes trained on the water rippling in front of him. “To make a difference in someone’s life maybe.” He shrugs. “To be happy. I don’t know.” 

“Being happy used to be mine too.”

He frowns. “Used to?” 

“I used to be obsessed with this idea of happiness,” you tell him, nodding, “used to spend all my time avoiding whatever made me sad. But whenever I chased happiness, I was also the most dissatisfied with my life.” You stop for a second, check Kevin’s reaction, and find a frown still imprinted on his face. “I kinda see it like clouds now. They’re pretty from afar, but when they’re up close, we call it fog. Even when happiness was placed right in front of me, it never felt like enough. Most days, I’m still teaching myself that happiness is not a permanent state of being; it’s an emotion, and it comes and goes like the rest of them.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Silently pedaling the boat along the canal. Then finally— 

“Damn, who’s the profound one now.” 

—

You and Kevin find yourself on a bridge that overlooks the canal after renting the foot pedaling boat. The sun is barely visible, taking its last dip in the horizon before disappearing altogether. You hold out your hand to hover in one of the last golden rays of light, shivering at the warmth. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re running out of time?”

“Running out of time for what?” 

“To experience life.” Kevin further explains, with a heavy exhale. “I feel like there’s this sick pressure and expectation created by romanticized coming-of-age movies that my youth is supposed to be the best years of my life. Like I should be living every second of it to the fullest. And then I end up spending all my time wondering how I’m going to live up to my youth instead of actually living it.”

“So, is that why you did it?” You pull your hand back in, tucking it under your chin. “Did you ask me to get off the train with you so that in ten years you can look back and feel like you made something of your youth, like you didn’t waste it.”

And something about the bluntness of your question must spread through the air and tug at the end of his lip. “Well, that’s a harsh way to put it, but,” he frowns, inhaling mid-sentence, “I don’t know. Maybe—yea, maybe it was part of the reason.” He pivots around, back pressed to the railing, elbows propped on the ledge, and face turned away from the last sliver of setting sun. You study his face: the point of his chin, slope of his nose, and high set of his cheekbones. He’s pretty. Too pretty, even. A realization that lands as heavily in the pit of your stomach as it did the first time you noticed on the train. And perhaps it’s just that: a realization. Or perhaps, more terrifyingly, it’s something closer to attraction. “Well, why’d you do it?” Kevin asks, turning his head slightly and catching you watching him, something you’ve both done too many times at this point to keep count of. “Why’d you get off the train with me?”

You swallow. “I thought about that couple from the first car. When you asked me to come with you, I thought of that arguing couple and saw my future flash before my eyes. I felt like I could see myself fifteen years from now. Could see myself falling in love, getting married, and somewhere along the way falling out. I could see myself sitting and fighting in the middle of a train. And a part of me just knew, that if I didn’t go with you, if I stayed on that train and continued to Paris, I’d spent the rest of my life regretting it, wondering what could’ve happened.”

You turn away from the sinking sun, swivel your head around to face Kevin again and find him differently than you had left him. Head tilted and biting at the inside of his cheek. Side pressed against the bridge’s railing so that he’s facing you directly. You straighten up, position yourself to face him as well, another asymmetrical smile growing on his face while you do.

“I’m really glad you decided to get off the train with me.”

You step closer, and when your hand knocks against his, he catches it, fingers curling around yours. “Me too.”

“Although, I do hope that if you’re married in fifteen years, it’s happily and that you’re one of those sickeningly in love with each other couple that everyone hates.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says it, watching your intertwined hands with a shy smile instead. And it’s somehow, oddly intimate when he squeezes your palm while wishing you a successful, hypothetical marriage. You feel suddenly breathless, and more prominently, fearless.

“I want you to kiss me.”

His eyes snap towards yours, pupils dilated and darker than normal. He doesn’t say anything.

You know he heard you, know—slightly less confidently—that he wants to kiss you as much as you want to be kissed. So you step towards him again, tugging at the end of his sleeve.

“Kevin.”

His gaze drops to your lips. “Yea.”

“Kiss me.”

And rationally, you know soulmates don’t exist. But there’s something about the way his lips fit perfectly against yours that almost makes you reconsider the belief.

—

“You know when I suggested we play pool, I really wasn’t expecting to have my ass handed to me like this.” He groans, staring at the five of his balls still left on the table.

“Next time suggest darts.” You tell him, voice raised to be heard over the loud pub.

You put the pool sticks back and seat yourselves at one of the empty tables.

“Okay, I have a question,” he says, leaning forward against the small booth table. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Definitely not.”

“Really?” He sounds surprised.

“You do?”

“Well…” he hesitates, tongue darting out between his lips, “I don’t know if I believe it but I also don’t not know that I do.”

Your face contorts at his wording. “I don’t think—”

“Okay, yes, I know, but like have you never fallen just a little bit in love with a complete stranger?” You shake your head slowly. “Like you’ve never had a barista compliment your jacket or your eyes once and then spent the next week thinking about them?”

You place a hand to your heart. “I genuinely had no idea this was a common occurrence.”

“You know what, no, I take it back, never mind,” he quickly says, the tips of his ears turning red and hand waving in the air to dismiss the thought. “New topic.”

A breathy laugh escapes from between your lips. “Alright, new topic,” you hum, nodding your head along to the music playing in the background, “do you believe in soulmates?”

He smiles at the question. “Yes and no.”

“Explain.”

“The term ‘soulmate’ has this implication that love will fall into place between two individuals, that they won’t have to work for it, and that it was chosen for them instead of by them. But isn’t it so much more special to look at someone and decide to love them specifically. Decide to love them on purpose. But more than that, the general idea of a ‘soulmate’ relies too heavily on the understanding of love as a feeling. And it’s as you said before about happiness: emotions come and go, and feelings fade. I imagine, more accurately, that love is a choice as much as it’s a feeling, one that you have to get up and make every single day. So yeah, I believe soulmates are real, but I don’t think they’re found; I think they’re made.”

And after his whole spiel, the only thing ringing throughout your head is: holy shit.

He looks up at you, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he starts timidly, voice suddenly lacking the immense clarity it held just a second ago, “what do you think?”

“I think,” you swallow, a lame attempt to digest everything he just said, “that I’ll never look at love the same again.” 

—

By the time you and Kevin leave from the pub, it’s completely dark out. Streetlamps now lit up and the roads less crowded with only a few whispering groups around each corner. You walk mindlessly around the city’s twisted streets, deciding when and where to turn on whims. And somewhere along the way, while you’re making a comment abput the closed antique store, Kevin’s hand finds its way into yours. You squeeze his palm, a silent affirmation, when he does.

“Wait,” you exclaim, halting suddenly in the square that you and Kevin have stumbled upon, “I think I’ve been here before.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, dragging him towards the fountain in the center, “I came here with my family once. I remember seeing this fountain and wanting to throw a coin in.”

“I mean are you sure? Fountains are pretty common.”

You shove his arm. “I swear this is the same one.”

“Here,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket, fishing out two coins, and placing one in your palm. “make a wish now.”

You hold the coin to your lips, closing your eyes while conjuring a wish and then toss the coin in the fountain. Kevin tosses his in a second after you.

“Hey, look,” you take a seat on the ledge of the fountain, pointing at the church across the square, “there was a wedding there today.”

“You know, I learned in school, I think, about Quakers, and,” he starts, sitting down beside you on the ledge, “they have the most interesting weddings.”

“What makes it so interesting?”

“Well for one, there’s no officiant. No handing off of anyone. What’ll happen is the couple walks in, stands in front of the entire congregation, and just stares. And it’s silent too, no one speaks unless they feel compelled to do so. Then after an hour or so, that it; they’re married. Just like that.” 

You turn on the ledge to face him. “Okay let’s try it.” 

His eyebrows waggle. “Getting married?” 

You look at him unamused. “Just the staring part.” 

He nods. “Okay, ready?” he shuts his eyes in preparation, “3, 2, 1, go!” 

Your eyes open at the same time as his, and you nearly laugh at the sheer amount of competitive spirit radiating off Kevin at that moment. And when you mention it, he shakes it off, muttering something about how you’re supposed to be silent. 

When you start leaning in towards him, it’s to mock him and his competitiveness. Or at least, it is at first. But somewhere along the way, you lose track of how close you get to him. Lose track of time as well. Too distracted with studying the concentrated furrow of his brows and the flecks in his eyes to notice whether you’ve spent one minute or twenty getting lost in them. And it’s a cheesy thought, yes, but there’s something about him and the black hair falling in front of his forehead that makes it so hard to care. 

You inhale. “I think I feel compelled to do something now.” 

“What?” 

You close the distance, pressing your lips to his for a brief moment, then pull away. 

“I won,” Kevin murmurs, a smug smile painted across his face, “you closed your eyes first.” 

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying and failing to hold back a smile. “You’re ridiculous; you know that right?” 

“I do.” 

“Good.” 

You kiss him again. 

— 

“Kevin, what are we doing?” You ask for the third time as he pulls you into the red telephone booth and shuts the door. “You do know that these don’t actually work anymore right?” 

He shushes you, pressing a finger to his lips and picking up the receiver. “I have to make a call.” He clears his throat, holds the receiver up to his ear, and makes the ringing sound. “Come on, Jacob, pick up.” You stare at him waiting for the punchline. It never comes. Instead, he fixes you a look and nods his head at your empty hand. 

“Ah, I see,” you hold out a fake phone in your hand, clearing your throat and putting on a fake deep voice. “Hey, Kevin. Long time no talk. How’s Europe?” 

Kevin gives you a funny look. “Hey, Jacob. Europe is great, but why does your voice sound like that?”

You clear your throat again returning to your normal voice. “My bad, I just woke up.” 

“That’s better. Anyways, I called to tell you that I met someone on my very last night in Europe.” 

“How’d you meet them?” 

“On the train to Amsterdam actually. They were sitting by this really annoying couple, so they got up and sat right across the aisle from me. What are the chances, right?”

“Probably, low.” You begin, a familiar exhilaration filling your stomach at what you’re about to confess. “Unless, of course, it wasn’t by chance at all. Unless they saw you getting on the train, thought you were really cute, and used the couple as an excuse to sit by you.” You smile as you say it, finding the way Kevin looks at you after the admission utterly swoon worthy.

“Well, even if that’s true. I think I sort of blew it with them in the beginning. They saw me rereading ‘A series of unfortunate events’ and probably thought I was so lame.” 

“Nah,” you mutter, smiling at your feet, “they probably found it endearing.” 

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I got a good feeling.” When you meet Kevin’s eyes, he’s still watching you, and you find it humorous, almost, how you can barely keep your eyes off each other now especially considering how impossible it felt to do so in the beginning. “So what happened after that?” 

“Oh well, I asked them to come to the lounge car with me and guess what?” 

“What?” 

“They said yes.” 

“Incredible.”

“Then, we got to talking, and, Jacob, everything they said sounded so smart and composed; I felt like a bumbling idiot in front of them. I mean, you wouldn’t believe how incredibly brilliant they are, not to mention gorgeous, and...” his voice trails off, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You lean towards him a bit, as if that’ll get you closer to hearing the rest of the sentence. 

“And what?” 

“And I think I fell in love with them right then.” 

For a second, you forget to breathe. 

Kevin hangs up the fake phone call, handing the receiver to you. “Your turn.” 

You take the phone from him, pretend to dial the number, then make the ringing sound while you wait for Kevin to pick up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Chanhee. It’s me. I have to cancel on our lunch plans tomorrow.” 

“Oh no. Why? Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, no, everything is fine. I just met someone on the train and—god, I know this is going to sound insane—but I got off the train with him in Amsterdam.” 

“That is insane,” his eyes widen dramatically as he says it. “What made you get off the train with him?” 

“Well, for starters, the arguing couple.” 

“Right, and of course, I, Chanhee, know exactly what that means.” 

“See, I knew you’d understand.” You laugh. “But other than the couple, you know, we started talking on the train and he was so sweet and really cute in this clumsy, flustered sort of way. I don’t know. I think a part of me had already decided to get off the train with him before he ever asked.” 

“That sounds…” he falters there, as if he’s still searching for the right word, “special.”

You nod. “It feels special too.” 

“So what now?” 

“I’m not sure.” You answer honestly. “He’s from Canada and has a flight back there tomorrow morning.” 

“Well, do you plan on seeing him again?” 

The question comes like a slap to the face from the palm of reality itself. One that you probably should have anticipated; a question that probably should’ve crossed your mind at least once. But somehow, you’ve neglected to wonder what’s to come of this fling past tonight.

You hang up, and the obnoxious clatter of the receiver falling back into place rings throughout the booth. 

“I guess we should talk about that.”

“Yeah, I guess we should.” He mumbles, something in his demeanor changing with the words. 

A silence overcomes both of you, and it feels like you’re in the listening booth of the record shop again, avoiding each other’s eyes and waiting for the other to make the first move. 

“Well it’s—“ 

“I think—“ 

You both start at the same time, words crashing together in the air. He laughs, gesturing for you to go first. 

You exhale sharply, tugging on your fingers and already nervous to hear how Kevin will respond. “I just don’t think we should fool ourselves here and make this out to be anything more than it is.” 

“Yeah, no. I was gonna say the same thing.” He nods solemnly, visibly gulping as if the words are hard to swallow. A smile fights its way onto his lips but doesn’t manage to meet his eyes. “So what now?” 

“Well, we have tonight,” you begin, stepping closer, finding his hand, and twirling his pinky finger with yours, “I say we make the most of it.” 

“In that case,” he returns the gesture, capturing your hand and pulling you a little closer, “I have an idea.” 

—

Kevin’s idea ends up with you standing awkwardly off to the side of a bar, quite literally twiddling your thumbs. You reach for Kevin’s necklace that’s now secured around your neck and wonder what part of his plan explains why he gave it to you before entering this establishment. You sneak a few glances at Kevin who's speaking with the lady behind the bar. The lady finally nods, smiling cheerily and heading around the bar. Kevin swivels around, shooting you a thumbs up before receiving the bottle of wine that the lady had retrieved for him. 

“How did you do that?” You ask once you’re both out of earshot, exiting from the building. 

“I told her that I just proposed.” 

You look at him unconvinced, wiggling your left hand in his face. “No ring.” 

“That’s what the necklace was for.” 

“And it worked?” You say, disbelief seeping into your voice. “She believed you?” 

He scoffs. “I don’t know why you look so shocked when you’re literally the one I convinced to get off a train with a complete stranger.” 

And, well, he makes an excellent point. 

— 

You end up at a park, laying on your backs and making silly comments about each star. You have jackets laid out on the grass beneath you and another draped over both of you acting as a blanket. 

“Have you ever heard of that theory?” You say, turning to lay on your side. “About how people fall out of love for the same reason they fell in.” He turns to lay on his side, nodding. “It terrifies me.” 

He frowns. “I think love alone is pretty terrifying.” 

“Did you mean it?” You reposition yourself with an arm under your head. “Back in the telephone booth, did you mean it when you said you fell for me on the train.” 

He stares at you for a long moment then smiles, whispering a small but sincere ‘yes’. 

“Can I tell you a secret then?” He nods. “I think I fell for you too.” 

“When?” 

“Guess.” 

“On the bridge?” You shake your head. “During dinner?” 

“Before that.” 

“In the museum?” 

“You’re getting colder.”

“Ah,” he sighs in understanding, “the listening booth.” 

You nod. “It was while we were listening to that Italian song, ‘Il Mondo’. Each time I felt you looking away, I would look at you. Then you’d turn your head back, and I’d pretend like I wasn’t staring. That moment—well, I guess it was pretty mundane. But, I don’t know, it still felt a little like magic.” 

“Mundane things can be quite magical.” 

“Which one is love then: magical or mundane?” 

He shrugs. “Both, I think.” 

There’s a silence, and it lingers for long enough to remind you of the awkwardness between you and Kevin after getting off the train. However, this silence is so much more different than that other one because it’s the kind that only comes when two people understand each other.

Kevin is the one who ends up breaking it, cutting through the night’s overwhelming quiet with a soft voice. 

“I feel like that painting from the museum right now.” He recalls the title: “‘Lover’s Embrace’.” 

“Is that what we are?” You question, a bit of misplaced insecurity dipping into your voice. “Lovers?” 

“Is there any other way to describe this?” 

“I don’t know.” You inhale. “Strangers?” 

He waits a beat, then offers: “Soulmates?” 

You’re reminded of the conversation you had in the pub, and his gut-wrenching, life-altering definition of the term. You meet his eyes steadily. “Do you believe that?” 

He smiles. “Do you?” 

And there’s something about the way he says the question that makes it sound like a dare, like a request. As if he isn’t asking if you believe it, but rather, he’s asking you to believe it. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug. But it’s a lie, you do. 

“The way I see it,” he begins, scooting closer, “if someone were to give me an ultimatum: I’d marry you right now. And I know it’s insane, I know that probably just sounds like some grand romantic bullshit, but I’m serious. With how I’ve come to feel about you tonight, I could wake up every day and put in the work of choosing to love you.” 

“And what about the couple on the train?” 

“What about them?” 

“What happens when we become them? What happens when we hate each other so much, we blow up in public?” 

“Who says we will?” 

“But hypothetically,” you insist, “what happens then?” 

“Honestly?” 

“Yes.” 

“It’s gonna sound stupid.” 

“Just tell me.” 

“I wouldn’t mind.” He lets the statement sit for a second, inhaling deeply before continuing. “I’d accept the inevitable arguing in the middle of a train if I was doing it with you.” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“But that’s the craziest part,” he lets out a breathy laugh, “I actually do.” 

“How?” You huff. “How can you sound so certain that you’ll love me despite all the things you’ll come to hate me for?” 

“Because you got off the train with me,” he says, shaking his head like the answer is obvious. “And at this point in the night, I’m pretty convinced that you’re the only person in the world who would.” 

And yeah, you think laughing, he’s probably right about that part. Because who else would be insane enough to get off a train with a complete stranger? Who else would fall in love on a train and while listening to an Italian record? Who else but you and Kevin Moon? 

“You know what they call that?” 

“What?”

You raise your brow, something terrifying hanging off the tip of your tongue: 

“Soulmate culture.” 

— 

You used to love sunrises. Loved how golden they are. How they coat everything in sight, lighting up whatever darkness was left by the night. You always saw them as a promise of something new, a new day and a new beginning. But today, when the sun does finally rise, you can’t seem to remember why you used to love them so much. Especially not after you spent the entire night dreading this particular one.

The walk to the train station had been quiet for the most part, a solemn and groggy acceptance that it was your final stretch of time together. And now standing with Kevin at the platform, you’ve never hated the arrival of a train more.

“I should probably get on the train now.”  

“Right,” Kevin mutters, chewing on his bottom lip and bouncing on his heels. He laughs, awkwardly, rubbing at his eyes. “God, I hate goodbyes.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I hate this one.”

You hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face between his neck and shoulder. He hesitates for a second, as if he’s shocked by the gesture, then tightens his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. And the only thing you can think about while hugging him is how this is the first and last time you’ll ever do so. 

You pull away, give him a small, sad smile, then grab your things, stepping onto the train. You give him a wave before disappearing into the car. From the window by your seat, you can still see him. He finds you, giving you a smile and another wave. And when he turns around, beginning to walk out of the train station, nothing has ever felt more wrong.

“Kevin!” You shout, unlatching the window and sticking your head out of it. He whips back around. “Let’s just do it! Let’s see each other again!”

It takes a second for Kevin to react. Too long, your brain convinces you already wishing the words back. But it’s as you sink back into your seat that he breaks out in the most brilliant grin. “Fuck it, yeah, let’s do it! Where?”

You laugh at the absurdity of this moment and how unreal it feels. “Here! Amsterdam, at this train station, on this platform.”

“Okay, here. In one year?”

You shake your head. “I can’t wait that long.”

“Me neither.” He laughs, an exhale of pure joy that you can see even from the train. 

“Six months from today.” You tell him over the train whistle as the wheels start to move, pulling you away. “See you then.”

He waves goodbye again, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, “see you then!”

You fall back in your seat, immediately burying your face into your palms. Your hands trail down, rubbing at your neck, clutching the part of your chest that falls over your heart, and—what is that?

You look down, recognizing the object around your neck and lifting it up with the pad of your thumb. And as you stare at the pendant of Kevin’s forgotten necklace, your smile grows.

—

SIX MONTHS LATER

The train station feels so much more different than how you left it. The weather now colder, and the platform decked with lingering holiday decorations. You get off the train and look around, praying for a familiar face.

“Hey.” The voice comes from behind you. You pivot around, so quickly your head spins. Or maybe the spinning sensation has something to do with how euphoric it feels to see Kevin again.

“Hey.”

“You came?” He asks, not bothering to hold back his elation.

“Well, yeah,” you reach into the pocket of your coat and fish out the necklace he left six months ago, “you forgot this.”

“Funny coincidence, huh? Unless, of course, it wasn’t a coincidence at all.” He hints with a smug grin. “Unless I left it on purpose so that you’d have a reason to come back.”

“If that’s the case, then you spent six months without your necklace for nothing.” 

“Oh, and why’s that?”

You step closer, smiling. “Because I already had a reason to come.”

a/n: i had way too much fun writing this,, also the translation of the italian song is half google and half me kind of assuming what the lyrics mean so idk how accurate that translation is

[spencers-dria]

Lost at Sea

Single Dad Spencer x fem reader

Summary: This is kind of a little Christmas-adjacent fluff peice where Spencer is a single dad, completely clueless while Christmas shopping for his daughter. Reader sees him struggling and decides to help, completely unaware of where it will lead them. I imagined him sometime after the show ended, kinda with his somewhat longer curly hair and glasses. This story is completely fluff and I make no apologies.

Well, that was about the third loud huff from the man standing down the isle from me. This one was so loud it blew his hair around a bit, making it even messier. I try to focus on the task at hand, finding the perfect gift for my best friend’s little girl.

Diana was the closest thing I had to a daughter of my own. Despite Anne’s protesting, I took every opportunity to spoil her daughter rotten. The adorable and precocious little girl had me absolutely wrapped around her finger. I have to fight the urge to buy everything I thought would put a smile on her face, my favorite sight in the world.

But now, I was repeatedly distracted by the clearly frustrated man standing next to me, eyeing the girls toy section like it was an enigma. I decide to approach him, but he’s still to lost in his thoughts to notice.

I clear my throat while giving him a light tap on the shoulder.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh I didn’t realized you worked here.”

“I don’t.” I smile sweetly at him. “You just look like you’re trying to solve the worlds most challenging puzzle over here.”

He meets my eyes with a sheepish smile, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. I try my best to ignore just how attractive this man is. He’s definitely not available.

“I guess in a way I am. I’m trying to buy a Christmas gift for my daughter. It’s safe to say that I know absolutely nothing about girls. I want it to be absolutely perfect, and I just know whatever I get won’t be half of what she deserves.”

“Well I can help with that. How old is she and what does she like?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, giving me a moment to ogle just how attractive his hands are.

“Her name is Alice, she’s 5. I know she loves Disney princesses. Ariel is her favorite I think... but even once I narrow it down to that, there is still just so much. Who knew shopping for little girls could be so overwhelming.”

I can’t help but giggle a bit at his helplessness. He starts to laugh along with me.

“I’m Spencer by the way.” I see him hesitate a moment before slowly extending a hand. I look at his extended hand with a slight feeling of guilt, knowing he’ll most likely judge me based on my response.

“Oh I’m sorry I hope you don’t think I’m rude but... I don’t really shake hands. It’s not personal it’s just all the germs. I don’t deal so well with them.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, but I can’t imagine why. Is he actually laughing at me? Seems a bit rude.

“You know I used to be the exact same way. I suppose having a kid has changed me more than I realize sometimes.”

I nod, quietly, knowing I can’t really relate.

“I’m sorry you’re probably really busy. Are you shopping for your daughter too?”

Unsure as to the reason why, I’m suddenly embarrassed to admit that I’m not actually a parent. Just a single loner in their mid-thirties, living vicariously through their best friend and their.

“Oh no, just a friend. I’m more than happy to help you out with Alice. If you want my best ideas though, I’ve got to be honest, a lot of it is online. I can show you the links real quick, I’d you’d like?”

“I feel like this would be easier if we just... Would you like to grab coffee? I know a great place just around the corner. You can show me all your ideas and hopefully we can pick out something for her together.”

Up until this point I didn’t want to make assumptions, but it’s becoming more clear that Spencer is most likely a single dad. I don’t want pry, but I can’t help but wonder what happened to her mom.

I try to hide my excitement at his offer.

“You had me at coffee. And I almost forgot, I’m Y/N!”

————————————————

Three hours and several cups of coffee later, I knew a small part of the life story belonging to Spencer Reid. He was an FBI agent, part of a team who hunts down serial killers. A profiler. Or former profiler? He used to work in the field, until he had to raise his daughter alone. He had been fallen hard and fast for someone who left him as soon as another opportunity, or person rather, had presented themselves. They left him a single dad, all alone with his 2 year old daughter, Alice.

Being a single parent, he knew he couldn’t continue a job that put him in harms way on a regular basis. He never had a problem putting his life on the line for others, but Alice had become his number one priority, without question. Switching to a desk job had allowed him to continue as a consult for the team while also teaching at the University.

As I looked over his attire, I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t quite give off professor vibes at first glance. His cozy maroon sweater and glasses, perhaps. But his curly mop of disheveled hair and goofy grin made him look more like a cuddly muppet character. The more I listen to him talk the more I notice his intelligence. I should have known, given his professions. It didn’t take long to realize he was well out of my league, but he was kind enough to give me the time of day for whatever reason.

I keep drowining in his eyes or getting pulled in by the movement of his hands as he speaks. Listening to his voice is like gently floating down like a river. I don’t even notice when he’s stopped talking.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?” I pull myself out of my daze, trying not to look as enchanted by him as I feel.

“Oh uhh, nothing to tell really.” I shrug, picking up my coffe, hoping he’ll change the subject while I sip on my caramel latte.

“I find that hard to believe. What do you do?”

“I just run a small cafe in town.”

I feel as though hearing about my life is about as interesting as watching water boil, but Spencer could have fooled me. He looks genuinely invested as I tell him about how I earned my bachelors and masters in business management, eventually opening up The Cottage. I didn’t have any experience in the food industry, but my friend Nicole had immediately been on board with the idea of coming on as my cook.

“It sounds wonderful. I’ll definitely have to stop by sometime.” He smiles at me before sipping on the last of his second cup of coffee.

“You’re welcome to bring Alice, only if you want to. And Nicole makes a killer risotto!”

“Of course! ...Oh! I knew we were forgetting something. Alice!”

“The entire reason you asked me here, just a minor detail.” I can’t help but snicker at our absent mindedness, how easy it was to be completely swept away in the tide that was Spencer Reid.

His face fades a bit, though I’m not sure why. He simply nods, folding his hands in his lap.

“Sorry if this is weird but umm... can I see a picture of her? It’s just, well, it might help me to get a better idea. You don’t have to, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh yeah!”He pulls out his wallet, unfolding a long strand of small photos, most of just his daughter, a few featuring him as well.

She was beautiful, brown eyed girl with soft, brown locks. She clearly had her fathers curly hair and soft, doe eyes. If it wasn’t obvious from the way he spoke about her, the pictures made it incredibly apparent that this girl was his whole world. Pure joy radiated from the photo of the two of them. I look up to to see the exact same look on his face, with a smile so big that his eyes crinkle.

That is the moment I knew he had me. I would follow this man anywhere, this adorable dad I had met on the toy isle only hours ago. The photos made it evident that she was just as crazy about him. It was almost too adorable for my heart to handle.

I take a deep breath before meeting his gaze, which is much closer now as we lean in over the table to look at the pictures.

“She’s beautiful.”

He looks down at the photos again with glassy eyes. “I know.”

He clears his throat and scoots back into his seat.

“So what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I have seen this online story that makes really pretty hand-made dresses that mimic the ones of each Disney Princess. Maybe a couple of her favorites? They also make knit blankets that look like mermaid tales. Or maybe a stuffed animal of one of her favorite characters? What little kid doesn’t like stuffed animals, right?”

Spencer nods along, absorbing all the suggestions I throw his way. After awhile, I help him settle on ordering a few we both like.

“I can’t wait to give these to her! She always loves Christmas morning. We open presents together and eat the cookies we made the night before while binging as many Christmas movies as possible.”

There was that smile again, the one he got when he talked about her. I wonder if she knows how lucky she is to have a dad that cares so much.

I can’t help but smile as well at the thought, which he quickly interrupted with “So what are your Christmas plans?”

I feel myself turning slightly red at the embarrassment of having to admit that I have none. Nothing much that is.

I shrug, hoping he won’t ask any more about it.

“Do you get to see your family?”

And there it was. The question I was desperately hoping to avoid. I know my inability to meet his gaze and consistent pulling at my fingers would be a dead give away of my uncertainty about speaking on the subject. I search for the best way to answer without seeming like I’m overcome with self pity. To be fair, I wasn’t. I didn’t mind spending the holidays alone. Not anymore. I had grown comfortable with the silence and comfort that comes from living alone.

The soft crackling of the fire, a fuzzy blanket, and a warm cup of hot chocolate had become my closest companions of each winter season. I spent many evenings curled up by the window, watching the snow dust the city as soft music flowed through my drafty, top floor apartment. Sometimes I’d dance and twirl around in my pajamas and socks, slipping and sliding on the wood floors. So yes, it was safe to say I truly enjoyed the time I spent getting to know myself.

“I uh, they’re not really around anymore. I was adopted by my parents when I was still a baby. They didn’t have any family but each other and then, well, me. I lost them to a car crash a few years back.”

I can tell he’s listening, but the one thing I always expect to see isn’t there. Pity. Instead I see kindness and understanding, and my heart welcomes it fully.

“Nicole is on vacation with her family for the holidays so it’s just me. I’m pretty used to it though, I make my own fun.” I give him smile to reinforce my point.

His eyes glaze over and I can tell I’ve lost him to a deep thought, as I see the gears turning in his head. He opens his mouth to speak before closing it again, and finally spouting out: “Come have dinner with us. On Christmas Eve.”

I had half expected a pity invite. A “why don’t you”. A “would you like to”. But Spencer hadn’t asked me. He had told me, in a way that left no room for arguing. I could tell he wasn’t going to budge on the matter. Whether it was the insistent but kind tone or the seriousness in his eyes, I don’t know. But I knew there was no use in fighting it. Not just the invitation, but the feelings quickly flooding my heart. Spencer Reid was like a fast approaching storm, but I didn’t want to outrun the rain. I wanted to dance in it, drenched in the downpour.

And that’s exactly what I did. As soon as I saw the look on his face when I said yes, it crashed over me like a wave, leaving me breathless and lost in the sea of my emotions.

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - attending a wedding with him

This work, 当你们一起去参加别人的婚礼, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

When you told Victor that you were going to attend a wedding of a good friend, he took out the same invitation card. It turns out your friend is getting married to one of his business partners.

Watching your friend walk down the aisle with her father in a white wedding dress, genuine happiness springs from the bottom of your heart. Your friend’s father places the bride’s hand into the groom’s, telling the latter to take good care of his daughter. 

Your eyes turn a slight red. 

Misty-eyed, you turn towards Victor. 

“Victor, if we ever have a daughter in the future, will you cry when she gets married?”

“No.” His expression doesn’t waver as he glances towards the stage.

You stare at him doubtfully. “Are you sure?” 

Every time you spend New Years at his old residence, you always notice how he’s more patient and tender with the little girls as compared to the boys.

“I won’t let my daughter get married off so easily.” He lowers his head, tone serious.

You decide to tease him. “So you wouldn’t want your daughter to get married?”

“...” His brows furrow as he takes a sip of red wine. “In short, I won’t make things easy for the man.”

Fair enough.

Just before you ask whether he’d like you or your non-existent daughter more, he takes your hand in his.

“The custom-made wedding dress has been delivered from France. Want to try it out tomorrow?”

[ GAVIN ]

The ex-President of the music club is getting married, and has invited you to attend his wedding. Because of their common interest in the bass, Gavin is on friendly terms with the groom, and has also received an invitation.

“They have been together ever since they met in Loveland High. And now they’re finally done with their long-distance race, walking towards the wedding hall.” You adjust the phone camera, snapping shots of this moment filled with blessings.

A gust of wind brushes Gavin’s fringe slightly, and his eyes harbour a smile as he looks at you. “Envious?”

“Of course. Most girls look forward to wearing a pure white wedding dress,” you hint, giving him a wink.

How could the perpetually alert Officer Gavin not receive your hint? 

The tips of his ears grow red.

“Actually...” 

You reach out to straighten his bow tie. “Mm?”

He takes your hand, laces your fingers with his, and pulls you closer to him. “I’ve already filled in the Report of Marriage form. All that’s left is the date.”

His words leave you shell-shocked.

“Gavin...” 

His eyes brim with a smile. 

“Are you willing to become my wife?”

[ LUCIEN ]

Professor Chen is getting married, and has specifically told Lucien to attend the wedding with his girlfriend. As such, you were pulled to the wedding venue without knowing what’s going on.

“Lucien, are you sure this is okay?”

“Why not?” Lucien crinkles his eyes as he looks at the couple on stage. 

You tug at the tassels strung on the box of wedding candies. “I don’t even know Professor Chen.”

He pats your head. “That’s okay. You’re my family member.”

These words are like a gust of wind rippling across the peaceful surface of your heart. You face away, attempting to conceal your reddening cheeks. “Lucien...”

He pulls you to him suddenly. By the time you come to your senses, you’re already in his arms. “The bride is going to throw the bouquet.”

As expected, the guests, who were initially scattered all around, congregate together, wanting to receive this bouquet which symbolises well wishes. 

“Three, two, one!”

The bouquet is thrown. Extending his arm, Lucien easily grabs the bouquet, and hands it to you.

With a genial expression, Professor Chen faces the two of you. “Congratulations, Professor Lucien! I hope to attend your wedding feast soon!”

Red-faced, you accept the bouquet from Lucien. He leans in close to your ear, his breath pooling at your neck. He speaks with a mischievous tone.

“Little Butterfly, let’s fulfil the newlywed’s wish as soon as we can.”

[ KIRO ]

A couple who had once appeared on your program are getting married, and have invited you to attend the wedding. 

As a senior who had once shot a movie with them, Kiro has also received an invitation. The bride is a fan of Kiro’s, so the groom requested for him to perform a song during the wedding. After a slight moment of hesitation, he agreed.

During the wedding, you gasp and realise that they truly are celebrities - there are many big shots present, and media personnel flock to the venue in a continuous stream.

Your gaze lingers on Kiro’s deep eyes. He looks especially good on stage.

“This is a new song which has yet to be released. It was written for one person.” His eyes carry within them a smile as he shoots you a tender gaze. “I’m using this opportunity to sing not just to the newlyweds, but also to pump myself up.”

He gulps, slightly nervous.

“Miss Chips, will you marry me?”

His blue eyes are akin to blooming fireworks, and you get absorbed in them. Without realising it, you nod.

You don’t hear the surrounding cheers nor see the high frequency lights. All you see is that radiant man.

“Miss Chips, we’ll be together for the rest of our lives.”

[ SHAW ]

Although university students can legally get married, this is the first time you’re attending the wedding of a student.

Shaw’s bandmate, who is studying in Loveland University, is getting married at the age of twenty two!

As a regular guest of Live House, Shaw’s girlfriend, and being well acquainted with the groom, you naturally received an invitation.

A Chinese-style wedding can’t do without lively wedding festivities. A group of young people are currently seated together, engaged in a game. The person who draws the Joker card can order the one who draws the lowest value card to do anything, as long as it doesn’t go overboard.

As the unluckiest person in the world, you draw the lowest value. Weeping internally, you place it on the table. The groom, who drew the Joker, rubs his chin contemplatively.

“Why don’t Sister and Shaw and link arms and drink wine?”

[Trivia] Linking arms and drinking wine (交杯酒 - “jiao jiu bei”) is a traditional Chinese wedding custom. The Chinese word “wine” (酒 - “jiu”) sounds like the Chinese word “long time” (久 - “jiu”). This act symbolises how the couple will be together forever :>

Your face flushes. Originally sitting with his legs crossed in a relaxed manner, Shaw sits up immediately fills your cup with a soft drink. “Forget about wine. She should drink less.”

“Oo~” The audience drawls, and you lower your head in embarrassment.

Shaw stuffs the cup into your hand. “Just treat it as a rehearsal. We’ll share the nuptial cup eventually.”

--

More translated and original works: here

--

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

[jessefandomunited]

I Will follow Him- Part 2 Steve Harrington X Reader-Meeting the Byers

I was nervous as I always am when meeting new people , I have this weird need for people to like me which is a blessing and a curse. On one hand I’ve never had an issue with faking any sincerity to get people to trust me because I didn’t genuinely want to get to know them and have them like me back, but it also make the leaving part devastating. I hesitated a moment before I finally pressed the doorbell. In the back I heard murmurs of “ did you invite anyone over?” Finally after a minuet the door opened and Joyce was standing there a bit guarded. “ I’m so sorry did I interrupt something? I just wanted to bring over some cookies and introduce myself. My name is Quinn Rivers,” I introduced, the first of many lies id tell them in my time here. “ Oh my no you’re not interrupting,” She said suddenly ashamed for being so protective, “ It’s very nice to meet you I’m Joyce Byers , wont you come in.” “ Oh I can’t stay long it’s been a very busy day and i’m more than ready to watch some tv and eat the rest of the cookies I made before going to bed,” I chuckled, little too real tone it back she dosent need that much detail. “ Oh well let me just introduce you to my boys then,” She said with a bright smile. The two boys in question were sitting at a table eating dinner, and stood up as I walked over . “ This is Will,” She said as the highschool age boy extended his hand . I shook it and she continued, “ And my oldest Johnathan.” I shook his hand as well. Taking the entire family in I could just tell they had been through some shit all of them looked incredibly tired like they needed a good long vacation. Will looked like he was ready to jump at his own shadow, Joyce looked like she had done too much on her own for too long, and Johnathan looked like he was on the brink of tears. I felt for them and smiled, “ it’s very nice to meet you all.” She nodded and said, “ are you sure you can’t stay for dinner you can’t tell me you’re just eating cookies for dinner.” “ I mean life is short eat dessert first right,” I said with a weak laugh, “ but no I wouldn’t want to intrude.” “ You’re not intruding on anything,” She insisted. “ Yes, please do,” Johnathan said walking back over to the table. “ Well I mean okay,” I could still feel my hair dripping from the shower and I tried to squeeze it out and rub the excess on my leg to avoid it dripping on the floor. “ We’re having meatloaf,” Joyce said handing me a plate. “ Thankyou ,” I said taking a small portion. I think it’s my constant anxiety but it was hard for me to eat anything while I was on a mission. I took a bite as not to appear rude and said, “ incredible.” She smiled and Will finally asked, “ so where did you live before here?” I thought back ,” well i’m a bit of a traveler. I guess trying to find a home I am originally from California but i’ve been all over most recently Michigan.” “ Wohh cool,” He said , “ So are you more of a bard or like a lone rouge?” “ Will I don’t think,” Jonathan started but I stopped him, “ I would love to say i’m as charismatic as most bards are but I think id definitely fit the lone wold rouge better.” His eyes widen, “ YOU PLAY DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS?!” I chuckled, “ when I can find a group my half elf Piper has been very lonely recently and when that happens she tends to act out more often so I definitely need to find a new one.” “ Well if I finally get my other friends to get back into it i’ll definitely invite you,” He insisted.“ Thankyou that’s kind of you, “ I said with a light smile. “ So have you found work yet, because I heard my job may be looking for more help,” Joyce suggested. “ Oh thanks but I actually got a job at video store, Family Video.” “ NO way that’s where Steve works, me and my friends go there all the time” Will said happily. “ Is that a good thing ,” I chuckled and Jonathan shrugged, “ I mean he’s alright I guess, Robin is more of the nerd though.” “ Oh yeah you and Robin will get along good but Steve isn’t bad either ,” Will implored making Jonathan roll his eyes a bit, I senses a bit of tension between the two. “ Well i’m excited to meet them both ,” I brightened, “ I’m very glad I got to talk to you guys a bit, but i’m very tired , my first day of work is tomorrow.” “ Of course,” Joyce said, “ take the plate I don’t want you to just eat cookies.”  “ Thanks but i’m okay I just get really nervous when I get to new places, its hard for me to eat,” I said sheepishly making her look more concerned, “ well, if you need anything just come over alright.” “ Will do, and again wonderful to meet you all,” I said with a wave. “ I’ll tell my friends about you and we’ll visit at work tomorrow,” Will called. “ I can’t wait I chuckled. Joyce walked me out and said another goodbye as I walked back over to my place racked with guilt.

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Mermay - Dilliam - Getting To Know You

William and Damien want to get to know each other, but these things take time. There are more important matters that need to be addressed first.

Read the first part here!

Word Count: 2,159

--

Sure enough, early the next day William hobbled down the steps to the shore. He kept his balance with one hand, and gripped a flask with the other. Unlike the previous day, he wore more layers to keep warm. It made the chilly morning more bearable as the pair sat on the picnic bench. Even so, Damien's high energy and energetic gesturing as he told William the story of when he first met his extended merfamily was infectious. William kept the hot flask in both hands as he sat forward to take in everything and encourage Damien with more questions.

At one point, Damien seemed to snap out of the moment and throw William a concerned look.

"I'm sorry… this, this isn't too much, is it? I don't get to talk about my experiences too much -" He was cut off when he felt a warm hand on his.

"Keep talking. I want to hear everything." William's smile was so wide, it could be seen either side of his bushy moustache. He gave Damien's another reassuring squeeze before lifting his hand away; and Damien had to rapidly suppress the instinct to snatch the hand back. It was such a simple thing, yet Damien felt comfortable enough to keep going.

As it turned out, it was very easy to talk to William. He knew nothing about the world of the ocean, except a small selection of fish names… and even that wasn't right:

("Oh yeah! An orca! That's the one with a horn, right?"

"No. It's the large whale that is black with white markings."

"... Then what am I thinking of?"

"Either a unicornfish or a narwhal, I'd imagine.")

However, as William would later argue, it was because he was normally assigned to tasks on land and was better acquainted with recognising animals, something that Damien was not too confident on:

("But what about that big cat with the hair? You know, the one that has the hair all around its head like this!"

"... Damien, that's what I've been telling you about. Male lions have manes, see?"

"... I knew that.")

Back and forth the conversation went, and Damien could feel a pang of disappointment when Mark came down to accompany them when he returned from rehearsals. Then, to make matters worse, William got a call from Celine regarding something that needed to be reassembled ASAP, so he had to scramble back up.

"Hey… Damien?" Mark broke the silence that had descended on the rocky coast. "I know you were told William was staying for a day or two, but if he gets the all-clear to take off the boot at his appointment tomorrow he has offered to stay longer to help us with odd jobs around the house. Would you be okay with that?"

"Why are you asking me? I don't live here." Damien made quite a considerable effort to give a calm response, and he could only hope that Mark couldn't see through the flimsy act. "It doesn't really affect me what happens up there."

"Well… I wasn’t sure if you were going to continue on your travels soon. If you need to keep on track of your itinerary, don't let our possible change of plan mess with that." Mark's response had Damien cursing his sister. Did both Celine and her partner know about his plight? But Damien knew Mark. If that was the case, there would be obvious teasing. Maybe it was genuine concern on the actor's part. 

"It's alright. I'm not under any time restriction, remember?" One key difference between humans and merfolk was how humans were obsessed with time and schedules, whereas merfolk were more flexible and carefree. "I don't mind staying a little longer. It's nice to be with family again. I'd be a fool to hurry off too fast and miss out on this." Mark's face lit up as he turned to pick up a bag Damien hadn't noticed originally. It was passed to him without any hesitation.

"Speaking of being with family - here. I had this commissioned for you. Consider it a 'new home' gift from both myself and Celine." The merman gingerly opened the present, surprised when he pulled out a small stacked stone ornament on a waterproof pedestal, complete with aqua blue natural sea glass for decoration. "I know you enjoy travelling the seas. Just know that we want this to be your home as much as it is ours when you are in the area. I might only be your brother-in-law to be, but you are still family, and this can be your home if you want it to be. There’s nothing too hard for us to do to make this your home. Just say the word - I have a credit card." Mark reached forward to ruffle Damien's hair, earning himself a dramatically offended hiss in response.

When Mark left, Damien took the decoration in his hands. It was beautiful, and he was enamoured by it… But it made something in his stomach twist. A home… such a concept was different between a merfolk and a human. If they wanted this to be his 'home', were they going to make some sort of enclosure and expect him to ‘settle down’? Celine wouldn't, he knew she never would. Even so, there was the worry if she felt sorry that he would never have a 'home' in the way a human can.

He put the gift into the chest to keep it safe and slipped into the water. He needed time to think about this.

--

"You sure you want to help out? I was kidding about working you to the bone." Celine accompanied William back to the car after his appointment the next day. The crutch and boot were gleefully returned as he was given the all-clear. Now all that was needed was to simply not break it again any time soon.

"Of course! You expect Mark to move things around for you? Or are you planning on killing your fiancé by letting him try his hand at wiring a new light in one of the empty rooms?" He threw Celine an accusatory glare when she laughed at the suggestion. Thankfully, the conversation returned to the matter at hand as they spent the drive to the hardware store deciding what needed to be done in the seafront cottage. 

"Can I ask you a favour?" Celine had stopped in the middle of the 'outdoor' section during their shopping expedition. William screeched the shopping cart to a halt so he could reverse and see what caught her attention. "I want to make the rock pool a place Damien feels comfortable to call home. The positioning of the rocks means it's sheltered from the tides, but I don't know how safe it will be from winter storms. I don't suppose there's anything you can do about that?" William's eyes went from Celine to see what inspired her to request such a job. It was a rock waterfall, an ornament for a garden. The colour of the rocks matched the ones by the sea.

"I'm not sure, only because I've not seen much of it. It'd depend on if the 'pool' is shallow or not. I could try and add some extra support to those rocks that frame the water, maybe check what supports are normally put along beaches to protect coastal towns?" Celine nodded as William spoke, fetching several LED lamps and dropping them into the cart.

"We should ask Damien when we return. I didn't want to bring it up too soon after we moved in because I know he's not one for staying in one place for too long. I suppose it's the mer instincts at play." When she noticed William's confusion, Celine continued, "When we grow up, we normally want to settle down in a house of our own, right? Merfolk might have nesting grounds or communities of their own, but they tend to travel since they can cover large distances in a short amount of time. It's why Damien would often disappear for months at a time." She sighed as she shoved her hands into her pockets. "I wanted a house by the sea so Damien would have a place he could call home too and feel he can stay longer. I can't protect him if he's forever travelling."

"Protect him?"

"You've heard the stories, right? Where people have exotic 'pets' that are categorised as 'mythical'? Having a merman as beautiful as Damien is one thing, but one with fluency in English and an awareness of human behaviours would be a valuable asset to American collectors… Or worse." Even if her hands were hidden, William knew her fists were tightly clenched in anger at the thought of something bad happening. "I don't want anyone to hurt him. Even if he travels the seas and has plenty of connections, he's still my little brother."

"Hey," William braved putting a hand on Celine's shoulder, "It's okay. He'll be okay. We can go back and see how he feels about rubber duck decorations." He pulled back to lift the item in question. They were tiny LED lights on a string, but each light was encased in a small model that resembled a toy rubber duck. "If we got a few of these and draped them around the rocks, it'd really look like home. And look! They're half-price. It's meant to be, Celine." Though still worried for her brother, the distraction worked as Celine finally cracked a smile and lightly shoved William. "What? Oh! You're right. That's far too ambitious. Just the one will do." That was that as it was innocently dropped in, followed by an actual rubber duck toy.

"Trust me. I might not be an outside landscaper-person, but I know we'll be able to make the rock pool the most spiffing place this side of the seven seas!"

-

To William's credit, he had only gathered a handful of impulse purchases that he paid for himself, including a pair of small hanging mirror shaped like a crescent moon and a star as a belated housewarming present ("Mark is the star 'cause he an actor, and you're the moon 'cause of your magic stuff."). Everything else was relevant to the required home improvement jobs that William would be working on over the next few weeks. Once they had brought everything inside, it was then the turn of Mark to bring William out of the house and make the drive to William's family home. William could grab his tools and show his elderly parents that his leg had fully healed. His mother insisted they take a loaf of homemade bread and some cupcakes with them once she had smothered William in hugs and kisses and made him promise to come by while he was in the area.

Meanwhile, the twins sat on one of the large rocks, gazing out over the sea. Damien rested his head on Celine's shoulder as she told him about how her job was going and some of the ideas for the home renovation now that William was staying and ready to work. Damien held her phone, idly scrolling through the photos as she explained what was going on, until he realised the next few photos were of the area they were in.

"- some sort of way to make this place a little safer in the storms. Do you think you could have a think and see what can be done?"

"I'll think about it." Damien returned the phone to Celine as he sat up straight. "Whatever happens will happen, I suppose."

"But this is your home. Whatever happens here is your choice first and foremost."

"Yeah, sure."

"Damien. I'm serious." She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, only for him to pull away. The fins on his collarbones flared briefly in agitation.

"This is your home, Celine. You don't need to pretend that I have a say in any of this, or that you'd even listen to what I'd want anyway. I don't need your pity because I can't go buy a house like you can."

"That's not what this about-"

"Isn't it? Don't think I never heard those conversations you had with Mom and Dad about wishing I could 'settle down'. I'd bet you even want to build me some sort of little enclosure to make up for that fact."

"Damien, stop that!" But it was too late. He had slipped into the water. Confused and frustrated, but wanting to avoid further argument, Celine stormed back up to the house.

Mark and William had decided to cut into the bread when the back door opened. Their argument on what would best accompany their snacks was abruptly cut off as Celine marched past them and down the corridor, before a door slammed shut. A silent nod was swapped between the men. Something happened between the twins. Food could wait. They needed to get to the bottom of this. ---

(I normally don’t stick these notes on the bottom, but I’m planning on spreading out this story over the month. It’s currently 20 pages on g.oogle docs total, so there definitely will be more. However, I will be putting the next part up tomorrow since 1. I’m not mean to leave it on a cliffhanger for several days and 2. It was waaay too long to put everything as one chapter)

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 11)

A/n: Don’t mind me, updating a series no one cares about lol. I’ve been toeing the line of what he’s like in other fanficiton and fans’ minds, but with this one I may just cover a side of Jerome y’all might really believe is out of character. I don’t care though. I’m having fun exploring a character and I’m having fun.

Word Count: 5400+

MASTERLIST

There was something different about waking up in the morning to Jerome still being asleep next to you. Or at least that's how Harley felt. Especially because this never happened, and considering what had happened last night. Maybe that was it. The night before was the main thing on Harley's mind as he slowly woke up, his head immediately filling with the memory as if denying him even a second dog bliss from it.

If he was being honest, it made him both terrified and exhilarated. They'd never had sex like that before. Slow and tender and soft. Words of praise had poured from Jerome's mouth nonstop, and it had sent Harley's body in a different way. Rather than fireworks, it was more like lava under rocks. Searing heat that crept through Harley's veins like it was trying to sneak. It made Harley feel infinitely close to Jerome. Made him feel tethered to Jerome. He'd never felt anything like that before, and from Jerome's reactions neither had he. It also gave both men a new fear. Or, a deeper rooted hold on a fear that already existed at the very least.

What if this ended?

What if neither man felt this ever again?

What if they'd unveiling something in themselves last night... and now, in the day time, the other didn't like it?

It was then that Jerome turned, facing Harley, where he'd had his back turned before. "I'm sorry about your friend." His voice was quiet, and Jerome wouldn't look at him.

Harley was surprised by that. He scooted closer, resting his forehead on Jerome's chest. The red head pulled the other man's body closer, tucking Harley against Jerome's own frame. He held onto him, protecting him from the world for a second. It was empowering when Harley leaned into it immediately, reaching his hands so he fisted Jerome's shirt so hard his knuckles turn white.

Jerome had never been comforting before. Safe. He'd never had someone take refuge in him before. It was intoxicating. It made him feel strong and unbreakable. It was more of a high than he'd ever felt before. Maybe just as good as when he put his little shows on and watched people panic and squirm. Harley finding safety in this moment was on par with all the moments other people had found danger in Jerome.

I guess when all you get is the same thing all your life, even if it's good, something new can have a strong effect on a man. Jerome had always been fear personified. He'd been a walking weapon of death and destruction, and somehow in that chaos Harley found himself making a home. It made Jerome feel incredible. Maybe he wasn't as bad as everyone thought.

"Can I see those drawings you did last night?" Harley leaned back so they were looking at each other. Jerome had an odd expression on his face. Not the one Bruce and Jeremiah wore when they looked at each other, but a very close approximation. It made Harley's heart pick up.

"Sure." He slid out of bed to pad to the living room, snagging his drawing pad and returning with it. He sat in bed this time, extending the drawing pad so Jerome could grab it.

The red head say up as well, taking the pad from Harley and beginning to slowly look through it. He took longer than Harley though he had the attention span for, drinking in the different angles and shadows of his own face. He seemed to be scanning it. At one point he reached up and touched his face, his eyebrows coming together. "What are you thinking, J?"

Jerome looked up, a look of concern and confusion on his face. "Is this really how you see me?"

It was Harley's turn to be confused. "What are you talking about?"

He seemed to struggle to explain a few seconds before weakly offering, "I'm beautiful." He immediately scowled. "You make me look... good looking." A deeper scowl. "I mean, I know I'm sexy don't get me wrong, but the way you draw me looks... looks..."

"Pretty?" Harley offered.

"Yes," Jerome groaned, like it hurt him.

Harley bit his lip for a second, thinking. "To me, you were always a work of art. Even before I drew you." He looked at the bed, fingers fiddling with the blanket. "You used to come to my mind all the time when you were dead. I thought of you constantly. Went to therapy over it because they thought it was a side effect of trauma." He snorted, shaking his head. "Turns out I was just infatuated with you." He looked back at Jerome then. "You came to me in dreams when I finally learned how to control my thoughts when awake. Even before we met that day, in person, I was obsessed with you. I used to draw you all the time. I told myself that it was to deal with the trauma of my parents dying, my fixation on death and murderers. People that were considered psychotic and dangerous. And maybe it was, in part. Maybe it began that way. But ever since the first second I saw you, you became this beacon of hope. Hope that in some world, with someone, I could be free from expectation and restrictions. That I could be wild and have fun and be GAY and not have to worry about what other people thought. You stood for the happiness I've been denied since the first day time I ever found anyone attractive." He paused. "Helped that you were incredibly attractive." Jerome giggled at that and Harley's smile widened. "You're so silly." Jerome scooted closer, kissing Harley so deeply he lost all of his breath. He leaned away after too short a time though, tilting his head. "Let's do something fun today."

"Like what?" Harley asked. He was getting good at keeping track with Jerome's zipping thought train.

Considering, Jerome grew quiet. "I want to take you on a date. Something nice." Harley deflated. "It's not smart to go out right now. We're trying to convince Bruce and the police that you're dead. If you're seen it'll all be over."

Jerome pouted. "Let me take you somewhere."

A long sigh came from Harley. "Do you want to die?" Jerome shook his head no. "Do you want to get caught and sent to Arkham?" Another silent no. "Then what the hell do you suppose we do that won't require any people, when we're in the middle of a huge city?"

Quiet groans and Jerome was flopping back on the bed, making Harley smile fondly. "I can't stay here forever, Harley! It's BORING. You get to go out all the time and check in on our dear brothers. Why don't I get to?"

"Because you'd be found out," Harley reminded patiently. "And entrapped. Or killed. Or entrapped and then killed."

There was a pause where Jerome was quiet. "You must go to Jeremiah's again and get me new information." Harley nodded, moving to get off the bed so he could get ready to head out. Jerome was suddenly moving though, pinning him before he could leave all the way. "But before you do that, I would like you to leave me with something to think about. Something to make this day a little more worth it." He licked his lips. "Entertain me, Harley." His eyes darkened and Harley shivered.

"Yes sir." - "Hey Harley!" Jeremiah greeted brightly. Harley chuckled at the boy. How was he twins with Jerome? That lightness and energy came so easily to this man, where Jerome struggled to even accept the idea of adorableness, let alone embody it constantly. But this wasn't the time to think about Jerome. "How did your date with the boy wonder go?" Jeremiah was bouncing on his toes. It was genuinely adorable. "He kissed me."

Harley launched to his feet. "What?" He was grinning, hands outstretched as if deciding on whether to grab him or pump into the air victoriously.

"Yeah!" Jeremiah squeaked.

"That's awesome!" Harley gushed. "Tell me everything! Wait- where's Ecco?"

"I already told her," Jeremiah dismissed, waving his hand through the air. "She picked me up afterward and I filled her ears with it all the way home.

Harley giggled, his nose scrunching in amusement. "I bet she loved that." Jeremiah blushed and Harley winked, nudging his friend playfully. "Okay well now it's my turn. Every detail Jeremiah, I'm serious."

And the red head eagerly delivered. The two boys talked for hours, going from the date and all that happened right into Harley waltzing around the room dramatically planning the wedding and the house and family that would follow. "You'll definitely need at least one dog. You both seem like cat people, but I bet your ass that you two raise a kid willing to rough house with a dog. It's got to be huge then. Like so big toddlers can ride on its back, and whenever it wants to go anywhere it'll just drag you along even if you want to go somewhere else."

At this point Jeremiah had covered his face, laying his hands on the counter and his head in the palms of his hands. "Please stop," he groaned, but both boys knew he had to hide his expression or risk showing off the radiant smile he'd hinted at earlier.

"Fine fine fine," Harley sighed, finally sitting back down. He chuckled, sitting back in the chair. He was lounging, legs spread and arms over the back of his seat. He looked comfortable. It was so different than the Wayne boy that had been seen on TV for years. The one Bruce talked about even. Harley really wasn't Y/n. He was... too much like Jerome to ever be that boy again. "What's with the frown?" Harley asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jeremiah debated on whether he should share his thoughts, but Harley leaned forward, showing that he knew Jeremiah was thinking something and that he wouldn't let it drop. Having gotten to the point where Harley could always pry information out of Jeremiah, the redhead didn't even bother fighting him. "I was thinking about how much you remind me of Jerome." Harley hesitated and Jeremiah rushed to add, "Not in a bad way. But your confidence and ease. Your very presence is so much bigger than it used to be. I didn't know you back then, but Bruce has mentioned how you guys used to be. Mostly because he obsesses over the worry that Jerome is still alive so it comes up often, because I always listen. Once he mentions Jerome, then we talk about how things were in my childhood and then it goes to how his childhood used to be and then you come up." He looked away, obviously self conscious about the way Harley's eyes were drilling into him.

"Do you lie to him?"

That caught Jeremiah off guard. "What?" He looked back with an expression like a deer in the headlights, or a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Jerome talked to me a lot." Harley watched his words carefully, being sure not to reveal that Jerome STILL talked to him just as much. "And that day in the tunnels, when Jerome tried to kidnap you. He said you lied about your guys' past."

Jeremiah was quiet for a long time. "I don't lie to him." He paused again and Harley waited for him to continue. When Jeremiah realized Harley wasn't going to let it go, he continued. "I don't tell him what I used to tell our mom. I'm... ashamed. You were right when you said I contributed a lot to how Jerome turned out. But, you have to understand Harley he terrified me. He never threatened me per say, but I was the one who always found the bodies of the animals he mutilated. I was the one he talked about to his fantasies about other people. He... He used to say he was joking, and he never did anything until our mom, from what I know, but he was curious and he didn't have the same empathy as everyone else did. For animals at least."

Harley sighed. "He loved me." Jeremiah looked up sharply. "He told me so. And- and you know what, I believed him." Harley swallowed. "Did I ever tell you how we found out where you were?" Jeremiah hesitated before shaking his head. "Would you like to know?" There was a darkness in Harley's voice. One that made Jeremiah want to shy away. But, he was curious too. It was one of the fatal flaws him and Jerome had in common. So, even though he wanted to run, he nodded instead. "We went to your Uncle Zack's."

Immediately Jeremiah cringed. "Oh god."

"So you know what that man is capable of then," Harley eased, even though his expression had not changed at all. It was the same forced calm that Jerome had perfected. The similarity between Harley and Jeremiah's lost brother in that moment made anxiety twist in the redhead's chest. "You know, if I hadn't been there..." He shook his head. "He heated soup to boiling. He wanted to pour it into Jerome's mouth. Thank god I was there to stop that one. What would it have bee like, being a child against grown adults. No where to run, no one to turn to, and no mercy in sight. No reprieve. If I was Jerome, I probably would have killed that bitch you called your mother too."

Harley expected Jeremiah to snap at him,  but he didn't. It made the air get even more thick with dark tension. It set into reality not only what Harley had said, but what Jeremiah wouldn't. That he would have too. "I think I'm going to go work on my prototypes." Harley didn't say anything, so Jeremiah left him alone in the quiet.

There was a part of Harley that felt bad for ruining the mood after they'd both been flying so high earlier, but there was also a part of him that didn't care. So he stood up and left through the maze, standing outside to get some air. To breathe after the stifling pressure inside. He hesitated too long, though. If he had just left right then and headed back to Jerome and forgotten about the conversation for the rest of the day, he would have made it out of there with plenty of time. But he didn't. He hesitated and and he breathed and he closed his eyes and felt the sun on his skin.

That was what gave Bruce the time he needed to pull up to Jeremiah's front door just to see Harley standing there. The boy tripped as he got out of the car, his eyes wide and lips parted. "Y/n?"

Harley jerked at the name, flinching away from it. It eyes slammed open, his gaze hard and angry. After the conversation he'd just had with Jeremiah, he was not in the right place to face his brother. Yet, here they both were. "Mr. Wayne," Harley greeted bitterly.

Bruce looked like Harley had slapped him. "Where have you been?" He shook his head. "Where's Jerome?" He then remembered where they were and looked between Harley and the door that lead to the maze where Bruce's boyfriend was. "Why are you here?"

The chaotic barrage of questions made Harley relax. He had the control in this situation. "I'm here because Jeremiah lets be stay here, when I want to. I check in sometimes and talk to him." Any other answer would get him in trouble, and he didn't feel like setting off his brother so he stayed with the truth, ignoring the other two questions.

The Wayne boy stepped forward, settling on angry between the emotions he'd been battling before. "You're friends with Jeremiah?"

"Sort of," Harley shrugged. "And by the way, it's Harley."

Hands curled into fists and Harley found himself slipping into a sort of distant amusement. His stance solidified, arms relaxing and fingers twitching at his sides. Bruce got hit with the same thought Jeremiah had been before. Harley looked a lot like Jerome in that moment, but more sane. In control. He didn't have that same unhinged factor, which left him far more unpredictable. Harley had the air of someone who would kill everyone in the room and then get away with it. Not for chaos' sake, but because he simply didn't care. Seeing sanity int he face of someone so cold and distant and confident sent a chill down Bruce's spine. What had happened to the brother who radiated sunshine and painted the most odd paintings with even weirder origin stories? The brother that couldn't handle even a little confrontation, let alone stand empty handed and still look dangerous? "I guess it is." Bruce's voice was soft and broken. His anger had fallen away, exchanging for a heart break that made Harley shift away from it like it burned him.

The door behind Harley opened. "Wait wait wait!" The voice belonged to Jeremiah, who was scrambling between the brothers as if trying to stop a fight. Maybe it would have eventually turned into that, but as of now all that was happening was Bruce was staring a Harley, looking for answers, and Harley was looking anywhere except at his brother as he refused to give them.

"You know," Harley mused. "I seem to be ruining the mood a lot today. You two love birds spend time together and I'll keep my distance so that my unhappiness won't affect you. How does that sound?"

Jeremiah launched forward, catching Harley's shoulder. "Please," he begged softly. "Don't go."

"Do you want him to leave instead, because I can promise it won't be pretty if we're both here," Harley spat viciously. Jeremiah recognized a deeper level to the boy though. A hurt that was curling into his face. There was more than just anger driving him to run now. There was fear, and pain. Jeremiah had seen that look on Jerome's face far too many times to let Harley go now.

Jeremiah looked at Bruce. "Listen," he sighed heavily. "You're both important to me. I have three friends, and one of them is more of a body guard who's paid to hang around, and another is... more than a friend, if I'm lucky." Bruce couldn't help how his face softened. Jeremiah cleared his throat. "I need as many people in my life as I can get, because I already basically have no one. You guys are brothers, for goodness sake. Don't let life tear you apart like I let happen for me and Jerome." This he directed at Harley. The words seemed to confuse Bruce, but he stayed quiet despite that.

Harley on the other hand looked ready to go. "He doesn't want me here."

"I didn't say that," Bruce rushed before he could rein his self control.

Jeremiah perked up. "You're the one person that can actually reassure Bruce that Jerome is dead."

Ah, how wrong he was. Harley could not honestly reassure Bruce that Jerome was dead. He could, however, convince Bruce that Jerome was dead- and he was also the only person who could. No matter how much of Harley Bruce saw, every time the Wayne heir looked at the man who used to be his best friend, he would always see Y/n. Y/n, who had never once been capable of hiding his emotions or even considering telling a lie, let alone delivering one convincingly. Y/n, who had always valued honesty - especially when it came to family. Who valued trust over power. Who had been abused and pushed around and broken and destroyed, replaced by someone who used lies to get what he wanted like one uses hammers to drive in nails. Harley would lie without hesitation or regret, and Bruce would believe him because Y/n wouldn't lie, and even if he did, Bruce would be able to tell.

"I killed him myself," Harley reassured, looking Bruce in the eye without hesitation.

Bruce formed an expression that spoke of disbelief and doubt, but Harley could see through that into the desperation in Bruce's eyes. "You killed him?"

Harley sighed. "I do that now."

Obviously Bruce didn't like that, but he seemed to accept it at least. "Why?"

This part was easy. "Because he hurt you." Harley shrugged, kicking the dirt under his foot. "He had no reason to involve you. He just did. He didn't even consult me, and he didn't because he knew that if he had I would have said no. We had a deal- no touching you. He might be my partner, but you're my brother and that's more important. No one hurts you. I made that clear since the beginning." He swallowed. That wasn't totally true. In fact, that day he had encouraged Jerome to mess Bruce up a little. Even kill him. But there had been a hesitance to hurt Bruce since the first day even if it had faded over time. Because the truth was, above even Bruce and Alfred, Jerome was the most important person to Harley now. "He was jealous because I cared more about you. He's kind of an attention whore." That was true. Not that Jerome was jealous, but that he was a slut for attention. The more time Harley spent with him, the more obvious it became. Harley didn't mind in the least though.

Bruce seemed to take a moment to consider this and choose his next words before he spoke again. "He sounds obsessive."

Jeremiah scoffed. "If I had to describe Jerome in one words," he mumbled.

"When I was caught with Jerome at the fair, I only ended up there because the first thing Jerome thought about when he came back from the dead was that the last thing he'd thought about when he was alive was that he'd wanted to kill me." Harley scoffed. "He took his wanting to kill me through death with him. If that doesn't spell obsessed, I don't know what does." That was another truth, but yet again Harley didn't mind. He liked to think of being on Jerome's mind, haunting him as the red head had haunted Harley. He liked the thought that not even death could do them part. Or however that line went, whatever.

There was a sort of melting slouch of Bruce's shoulders. He'd given in. Harley had succeeded. "We're not just going to be brothers again. Neither of us are the same."

"The last time I saw you my boyfriend was trying to kill you, and before that I was convinced you'd been brainwashed by some cult, so yeah we have some catching up to do."

Bruce looked at Jeremiah who perked up. "Wonderful! Dinner, anyone?"

"Actually," Harley edged. "I think we both have a lot to think about. Maybe rushing it all tonight wouldn't be the best idea." For the first time in a long time, Bruce nodded in agreement with Harley. In fact, it had probably been the first time Bruce had agreed with Harley since he had stopped being Y/n Wayne.

"Fine," Jeremiah sighed. "But I expect you two to have a dinner together within the next week. I won't let you just avoid it."

Harley sighed and nodded, turning away from the other two boys and heading toward his car. "Use protection!" Harley called, smirking when he heard the boys behind him groan in unison. Before they could curse him though, he slipped into his car and closed the door, cutting off any attempts of communication. He turned his car on and drove away, letting his smile melt away when he was positive he was out of view. His hands tightened on the wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. His jaw locked, beginning to hurt after a few seconds it was cemented so. Not wanting to get pulled over when he was in a car that wasn't technically in his name - he'd gotten it a long time ago when he still worked with Penguin - and was, more importantly, a wanted criminal. Focusing on safe driving only got him to the front door though. He slammed it closed, standing in his doorway glaring at the floor.

And then he snapped.

A scream ripped out of him as he reached for the closest things light enough to pick up and began throwing them across the room. Some - a vase, a few dishes that hadn't been taking to the kitchen yet, a table decoration - shattered, while most of it landed safely after crashing into more things - books slamming into chairs, pillows knocking things off the wall, a shoe hitting the edge of a full length mirror hard enough that it tilted, so on. Altogether, he was creating a lot of noise, destruction, and chaos.

Jerome ran into the scene, looking rather startled. Harley wasn't the angry type. He had never been, except the rare times Penguin had been able to unlock long since buried trauma that he wasn't dealing with. Oswald had taught him to both control AND channel his emotions, so that they could be expressed but also make you look more terrifying rather than show as weaknesses and wear you away to nothing. No one had seen this side of Harley except him yet, and Jerome wasn't quite sure how to handle it. In fact, it reminded him a little of... his mom.

When Harley finally stopped, he turned away from Jerome, curling his fingers around his short hair very tightly, tugging as he planted his forehead against the wall furthest from Jerome. The redhead paused before slowly making his way over. "Harley?" His voice was soft. The anger in his boyfriend had unlocked a fear in him that he hadn't felt like this since he was a child. He was scared of Harley losing it again, both because he didn't want to have this feeling get worse, and also because if Harley was upset enough to melt down like this, he might get destructive with himself rather than loose objects.

Or worse, Harley might get destructive with Jerome.

"I'm sorry," Harley croaked. He took a deep breath, finally dropping his hands and leaning away from the wall before turning to Jerome. This was closer to the Harley Jerome knew. A little exhausted from his heavy emotions, but otherwise solid and in control. "I'm sorry J." His voice was stronger now. More fluid and solid. He saw Jerome's expression and slowly approached. Jerome didn't move away. When Harley touched him, Jerome didn't flinch even though his pulse skipped a beat. Not something totally new with Harley, except that this wasn't a good spike. The emotion he felt was new when it came to Harley. "I'm sorry," Harley said again, pulling Jerome to him until their foreheads touched. "Did I upset you?"

Jerome's brain had short circuited a bit. After being free of his mom for years, he'd grown a solid defense against things that reminded him of her. But Harley had waited until he was past all of Jerome's walls and defenses. Until he had become Jerome's home and safety embodied. Seeing such anger now threw Jerome for a loop. How would he leave Harley now if things got bad like it used to be with his mom? I had taken Jerome eighteen years to kill his mother and get away from her, and she had been... terrible. How would he do the same to Harley, who had claimed all of the most important parts of Harley and become essential to Jerome's insanity. Harley was the one who calmed him after nightmares, and defused a situation that set off something that triggered backlash from Jerome's past. Harley was the one who saved him from his uncle and his brother and his past. How would he get rid of someone like that?

"You looked... like her." The words were soft.

Harley froze. "Jerome-"

Jerome turned away and left. He said some joke but didn't hear it, too busy trying to think about how to backtrack and defend himself again from these emotions with Harley's help. "Never mind," he breathily dismissed, waving his hand in the air.

Harley wasn't having it though. He caught the hand, forcing Jerome to stop and face him. His face was serious, but his eyes were soft. "I would never hurt you, do you understand?I might what I said that day I pulled you from that ledge, Jerome Valeska. You lead, I will follow. I love you and I will do anything you ask of me. You don't have to be afraid of me. Even if i get angry and break shit, you are still safe with me."

"You're so dramatic," Jerome sighed, looping his arm over Harley's shoulders. His body had relaxed though. Even if he did a fantastic job of brushing things off and playing like nothing effected him, Harley's words had brought him a sense of peace he would never admit he needed. "I mean, anything? You won't even let me leave or kill our brothers."

Harley blew air out of his nose upon remembering Bruce. "If that's what you really want."

"Really?" Jerome faced him, surprised. Harley had been so adamant about doing neither for the last several weeks. Why change his mind now? Unlike Harley, Jerome was not a good people reader. Not for details, at least. He could tell when someone was scared of him, or when they were intrigued or interested or disgusted. He couldn't read Harley's micro signs though.

Harley rolled his eyes. "Ran into Bruce on my way back today." His lips curled but this time it didn't make Jerome nervous. He couldn't even think why Harley would remind him of his mother. Jerome broke things when he was angry too. Harley hadn't even know Jerome's mom. He was getting side tracked, but Harley spoke again, pulling his thoughts back as Harley's voice always did. "Jeremiah wants us to make amends and catch up. Wants us to spend dinner together. Ugh."

"My brother trying to make the world perfect for him?" Jerome joked. "Never."

Harley chuckled softly. No matter his state, Jerome could always make him laugh. "Yeah. I just- Bruce stills wants me to be that weak little scared boy I used to be. I'm better now. Happier and stronger. Maybe that scares him because I didn't succeed the way he wanted me to, but that doesn't change the fact that I can fight for myself now. I don't just settle and lie down and take shit. If he had it his way, along with everyone in this stupid city, I would sit in a chair in the corner of every room and sit in Bruce's shadow, there to talk to him when he needs company but otherwise be ignored and be okay with that. Alone, by myself, maybe with a girl who I can have kids with." He shuddered and Jerome followed with a scowl. Neither liked the idea of that, "Even worse, I'd be working for my younger brother. Working at Wayne incorporated, or as some sort of side kick as he stop bad guys or whatever." He grunted in disgust. "As if they even know what bad is."

Jerome pulled Harley toward the couch and next to him. When they were both seated, Jerome continued to tug on Harley until the boy curled into the redhead's side. All cuddled up, both seemed to feel a lot better with the words of a future that made both of them sick still ringing in their ears. "You know, if we're going back to being gay and doing crime and all that fun stuff, it might not hurt to be around your brother."

Harley sat up, eyebrows pulled together. "Why him? He's just a cop wannabe."

"He's friends with Gordon though, isn't he? Can you imagine how much power you had at your fingertips when everyone thought you were good and harmless and not even a wisp of a threat? Now you're none of those things, and the only person who knows your true potential is Mr. Penguin." He shrugged, his smile growing. "I've seen you do it before. Heard stories about your escapades with the Little Man, and you've told me before how valuable sneaking is. Never something I did because I never could have pulled it off, but you..." He pointed at Harley, getting excited now. "Why isn't Bruce following you around, or questioning you, or taking you to the police in an attempt to find me?"

Tracing the pattern of the couch, Harley tried not to smirk. "I told him what he wanted to hear."

The smirk that Harley was repressing shone on Jerome's face like light from the sun. Brilliant and bright. He hopped up onto the couch into a crouch, his fingers dancing in the air like he was constructing an orchestra. "What a clever boy. Deserves a reward..."

Now Harley grinned. "What did you have in mind?"

[saiilorstars]

Familial Bonds Pt. 1-One Shot

Companion to Dare To Forget Me || Montserrat’s masterlist

Pairing: Rafael Barba x OFC

Summary: Thanks to Casey Novak, Detective Montserrat and her brother have an argument over their family's hurtful past. While Casey tends to Montserrat's brother, Rafael has his go at Montserrat with the intention of helping her make a decision.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog​ @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @perfectlystiles @averyhotchner​

“Montse, please, it’s ridiculous! Why should we even entertain the idea of visiting her? We don’t even know her!” the loud voice of a man pulled several customers’ attention from other tables.

 “Gael, that’s the whole point of visiting her!” Montserrat tried to argue in a normal tone but her brother was just being plain annoying. Gael Novak had that talent since she could remember. “I don’t know how she got my number but I’m glad she did. She just wants to know us, Gael.”

 “I don’t want to know anyone from her family,” Gael’s spat made Montserrat flinch in her chair. “And you shouldn’t either-”

“-now hold on-”

“-she’s her mother- ”

“-and your grandmother!”

“Only biologically!”

As the two siblings went back and forth, their loud voices progressively drew in customer’s attention. Just as the manager was going to go talk to them - since he knew the Novak family quite well - he spotted the third, eldest Novak coming in through the doors. He hated to have to call her in, especially when she wasn’t alone herself, but things were getting pretty rowdy.

 “Casey,” the manager smiled with relief as he came up to her. “Rafael, nice to see you again.”

 The two ADAs smiled at the man, but they both faded when they heard the ongoing argument towards the back.

 Casey closed her eyes, letting a sigh slip through her lips. “Please don’t tell me those are…”

 “Detective Novak and the contractor?” Rafael finished for her, still feigning thought about the voices. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is. She’s shouted enough for me to recognize her.”

 Casey inwardly groaned. She put a hand on the manager’s shoulder and promised him she would get the two to be quiet or leave.

 “...I think it’s a waste of time! And honestly, the fact you’re not giving my opinion a decent consideration is offensive!”

 "Bold of you to think I would care!” Montserrat’s shout was the last response of the argument.

 “Would you two please be quiet?” Casey’s presence startled the two, even more so when they saw Rafael. “The entire block can hear you.”

 Montserrat busied herself with a chip that she aggressively plunged into salsa. “If Gael wasn’t being so-”

“-oh, what? What am I being, hm?” Gael snapped but Montserrat purposely remained silence. She just took a bit of her chip and chewed. “Don’t give me the silent treatment! We’re not kids anymore!”

“No, you aren’t, so be quiet,” Casey warned the two to listen to her. “Just tell us what the hell are you two arguing over?”

Montserrat reached for another chip but instead of eating it, she just cracked pieces off. “Our...grandmother...called me. I don’t know how she got number, but...she called.”

“Grandmother? Wait, didn’t you mention…” Rafael trailed off when Casey made a cutting motion across her neck.

Montserrat looked up at the two suspiciously. “Mention what?”

 Casey purposely ran a hand through her hair, gaze shifting on the ground. Rafael was just confused but he ultimately elaborated a little. “Casey mentioned something about a grandmother of yours earlier. The only time I’ve seen her happy after losing a case.”

Casey shot him a mock glare. “Thank you. I see why Montse complains about you.”

“I didn’t know it was a secret,” he shot back.

“Casey, what’s going on?” Gael asked from his cousin. She wasn’t usually one to get into familial problems like this.

“Nothing,” Casey tried to be casual about it but her awkward shifting was enough to put both siblings in further suspicion.

“Rafael, you seem to know,” Montserrat looked at him sharply. “And if you don’t tell me what it is I’ll make sure your time with me becomes even more unbearable.”

“That’s possible?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Try me.”

Now, the reason he decided to ultimately share was not because of the threat Montserrat imposed on him - maybe like 10% of his reason - but instead it was for the sheer fact that Montserrat looked genuinely upset. He’d seen her angry on occasions but it was always due to their challenging cases. This was something more personal, and he didn’t quite like seeing her this way. Besides, what Casey did didn’t seem to be bad in his perspective. 

“She just...she just said she gave your grandmother your cell phone number,” his words may have well been the words of war. Gael fixated a deep glare on Casey but Montserrat stayed quiet, frozen even.

“Casey, what the hell!?” Gael shot up from his chair. “Why would you give that woman Montse’s number!? Tell me you didn’t give her mine !?”

“I thought it would do you well - both of you well,” Casey’s honest answer pulled Montserrat’s gaze up to the woman. “I know your mother’s side of the family isn’t one you speak to but she sounded genuinely curious about you two. I didn’t see any harm-”

“-you shouldn’t have done anything!” Gael continued to shout. “This isn’t your problem, Casey! Do us the favor and just keep your nose in your cases!” he grabbed his jacket off his chair and stormed towards the doors.

“Gael, wait!” Casey left her things on the table in a hasty manner. She put a hand on Montserrat’s shoulder, lowering herself for a quick moment. “I just wanted to help.” She pulled her hand back and hurried to catch up with Gael on the street.

Montserrat shook her head and started dusting her hands off from the crumbles of chips. “I’m sorry,” she said so hushed Rafael could barely hear her. She was getting ready to leave, but she seemed nowhere near herself.

“Montse, hold on,” Rafael put a hand on her arm to keep her in her chair. He slowly took the chair next to her, motioning he was just going to talk, though she wondered if this was just going to be another session of poking fun at her like it usually was. “Whatever this whole thing is about, I can personally vouch that Casey did seem to have the best intentions. She was excited to know what you would say.”

“I don’t doubt that she did this in good faith, but Gael was right. It wasn’t her place,” Montserrat reached for her purse hanging on her chair.

“M-Montserrat, please talk to me,” Rafael’s request came as unusual for Montserrat. He knew that too which was why he added on, “I like to think that despite our...rockish...moments, we are indeed friends.”

“Rockish,” Montserrat repeated with the tiniest of smiles, but for Rafael is was a start.

“C’mon, talk. Casey’s coming back so we’re not going anywhere,” he made himself comfortable in his chair. As Montserrat reached for another chip he smacked her hand away from it, making her roll her eyes.

“This is our maternal grandmother we’re talking about-”

“-kind of figured,” Rafael said through munches. “Casey Novak loves to talk about her grandparents.”

“After my mom walked out on our family my Dad moved us to a whole new neighborhood so we wouldn’t have to see any of her family again, and much less her. That’s just the way things were until today,” Montserrat sighed. She finally grabbed a chip but she just toyed with it at the plate’s edge. “I acknowledge that my mother doesn’t love me nor my brother, but that doesn’t have to extend to my grandmother, right?”

“Shouldn’t have to, but you knew that already,” Rafael flashed her a smile. “It’s why you came to talk to Gael, right?”

“Correct,” Montserrat sighed again. “I thought maybe...maybe the both of us could visit her. She lives in the Bronx. She sounded sweet on the phone - but nervous, she was so nervous too. She wants to meet us. It caught me by surprise but...I don’t know-” she shrugged ever-so-casually, “-it felt nice. She spoke to me in Spanish, you know I don’t know that.”

“Oh, I know,” Rafael didn’t hesitate to confirm that. Despite her Latin side on her mother’s side, Montserrat didn’t own a drop of the Spanish language.

Montserrat smiled out of embarrassment. “She was so sweet I just...I couldn’t help feel curious myself. Who is my grandmother, you know? What can she teach me? Will she love me despite never meeting me?”

“Well, I have to be honest,” Rafael dusted his hands off from the chips. “It takes time to get used to you-” Montserrat sarcastically tilted her head at him, “-but after some time, you get to realize that you are a good person. And you deserve to be happy.”

Montserrat’s face softened, albeit a trace of surprise still made an appearance. “Who are you and what have you done with Rafael Barba?” He rolled his eyes at her but she swore she saw a tint of a blush on him for a second.

“I mean it, Montse. Take it from someone who’s already lost their grandmother. Don’t let a potentially good relationship slip from your hands. This woman found Casey just to find you. That alone should show good intentions.”

“But what if Gael was right? What if it’s just a waste of time?”

“Do you think it’d be a waste of time?”

Montserrat took in a breath while she thought. “My Dad said that my mom’s family was big. I have aunts, uncles, cousins...all these people I’ve never met before. I’d like to get to know them. And my grandmother…” she got lost in thoughts only to be pulled back when Rafael placed his hand over hers on the table. His warmth provided a support she didn’t even know she needed. It just felt pretty good. “Gael is going to be pretty mad at me for going…” she admitted it troubled her to know Gael would probably shout at her all over again.

“You don’t have to tell him right away if that makes it easier on you,” Rafael suggested. “Take your time, get to know this woman who - for some reason - wants to meet you…”

 Montserrat rolled her eyes at his smirk. She tried to pinch his hand around hers but it ultimately turned into a tighter grip between them. She took refuge in it and wondered if it would be ridiculous to ask if she could talk to him first after meeting with her grandmother.

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Eleven - Bonding Over Crickets

We stood before the old wooden doors, holding hands.

“We don’t have to decide anything yet.” Victor squeezed my shoulder. “We will just get some information.”

“I know.” I took a deep breath.

“Ready?” He gave me a loving smile.

“As I will ever be.” I offered him a weak smile in return.

He rang the doorbell, taking a step backward, his hand holding mine.

We were greeted by an old lady, with grey hair held up in a careful bun, deep wrinkles framing blue eyes.

“Victor! So nice to see you!” She took Victor’s hand, shaking it. “And you must be Andrea! Nice meeting you!”

“Andrea, this is Miss Dillon, the orphanage director.” Victor introduced us. I smiled, shaking her hand.

We were led into an old corridor, leading to what I suspected was her office. Inside, a table with tea and cookies was waiting for us.

“Sit down, let me serve you some tea.” She took the teapot, filling our cups. “So, Andrea, Victor tells me you would like to adopt a child.”

“We want to know more about the process, yes.” I said, taking the steamy cup from the table.

“It would be fairly easy, to be honest.” She sat down, her hands moving as she spoke. “Firstly, we have some standard procedures before we even introduce you to a child, like background checks, a full course you need to attend, a few sessions with a counselor. But I think, in your particular case, we can forgo all of those. Victor has been a good friend of ours for quite some time, and I think I know him long enough to know he is a good man and an excellent candidate for an adoptive parent. And knowing his standards, I can only assume you are no less than a remarkable woman.”

“To say the very least.” He smiled at me, taking my hand, and I let out the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

“I can see that.” Miss Dillon smiled. “Which is why I think you are good candidates to go straight to referral. What kind of child do you think would be the best fit for your home?”

“We haven’t really discussed it…” I hesitated, looking at Victor. “But maybe the younger the better, for a better adaptation?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Very well. I will look into our files to see what we have that we can refer to you, and then we’ll set up a meeting.”

“So, what’s it like?” I fidgeted in my seat. “We spend time with this child and see how it goes?”

“Exactly. You interact with the child to see if there’s a bond.” The director nodded.

“But… What if there is no bond?” I started to panic slightly. “What do you say to that child? I’m sorry, but they didn’t want you ?”

“Well, you don’t exactly disclose to the child what’s happening…” The director hesitated.

“Sure, but they know, right? They are children but they are not idiots! What if we don’t feel anything? What if the child doesn’t like us? Do we adopt her against her will? How does that happen?” My hand flew to my forehead, Victor catching it midair and squeezing it.

“Listen, there is no right method to do this.” Miss Dillon leaned on her desk, speaking to us with a knowing soft voice. “Trust me, we have tried several. This is the one that brings less anxiety to the children. Of course, there is the chance of refusal from one or both parts, but I don’t want you to consider the worst already. Just the fact that you are considering the child’s feelings tells me you won’t refuse any child, and any child will feel it too.” She gave me a soft smile. “We will be contacting you shortly. Just come with an open heart. You will do fine.”

Two days later, Victor got a phone call from the orphanage, saying that they had found a good match for us: a three-year-old girl whose parents had died in a tragic accident, without any known relatives. We scheduled a meeting for Sunday afternoon, and we bought a ragdoll to give her.

Victor seemed calm and patient with the whole thing. I was a bundle of nerves.

“I mean, this girl has some recollection of her parents.” I spoke from the walk-in closet, as I changed into a dress. “Can you imagine being so young, living with a happy family, and then being told you will never see your parents again, but Hey, here’s a brand new set of parents for you, they have actually no idea of what they are doing ? She’s going to resent us on principle alone. She wants her mother, not me.”

“Firstly, I don’t think they will be telling her that.” Victor walked in to pick a tie. “Second, remember what Miss Dillon told you? Just go with an open heart and you’ll do fine. These children are mostly starving for affection and in need of a good home.” He came to me, holding my chin, making me face him. “Besides, I know any child will love you. Just show them that warm smile of yours.”

“What if I don’t like her for some reason? What then?” I sat down to put on my shoes. “What if I find I don’t have a maternal instinct? That I am better off not being a mother anyway?”

Victor kneeled in front of me, holding my shoulders, a slightly worried look in his eyes.

“Why are you actively creating scenarios in which things go wrong? Do you not want to do this?”

“I do… I just…” I trailed off with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being incredibly hard. I’m just afraid this won’t work. And this is our last chance. If we want to become parents, we need to do this right. How are you not nervous?”

“Being nervous won’t guarantee me success, quite the contrary. Besides, I’m not doing this alone.” He held my hand. “Neither are you.”

I would like to say his kind and wise words relaxed me, but they didn’t. The last time I had tried to become a mother it was only to get my hopes up and then see them crash down violently again. I wasn’t ready for another loss, I had just recovered from the last one. In retrospect, my intensive worry was my weird way of protecting myself in case it didn’t work. Should the worse case scenario happen, I was already protected.

It was a sunny afternoon, so when we arrived at the orphanage, all the kids were playing outside. We were told to wait inside, so our presence wouldn’t alarm the other children, while the girl was getting ready. We obediently stood in the corridor, waiting. Out of the blue, Victor got a phone call.

“It’s Goldman.” He read from his phone screen. “He knows I’m here, so if he’s calling it must be urgent. I’ll take this outside, send for me when they call for us.”

Awesome, just awesome. I was a nervous wreck, my palms were sweaty and I had lost my companion. I felt like a naughty kid about to be summoned to the principal’s office, the time dragging lazily. I looked at my wristwatch, only two minutes had passed since we arrived.

Trying to distract myself, I looked at the decorations. There were pictures of the kids in the orphanage taken every year, Miss Dillon present in every single one of them. It was clear that she was doing this for decades. In the children’s smile, a sad resignation, but a hope for better days. I could do that, I could give a child a happy life. I could give a child the dream of better days. And I would get those same days in return.

Lots in my own thoughts, I wandered through the corridor, when I noticed a small red-haired boy sitting on one of the wooden seats, holding a children’s book. Maybe I could talk to him a little. Victor was taking the longest time to return, and I was in dire need of something to distract me from my anxiety.

“Do you mind if I sit here for a minute?” I pointed to the seat next to the boy.

“No.” He didn’t even lift his eyes from the book to answer me, totally engrossed in the book. I read the title. It was the children’s book version of Pixar’s movie “A Bug’s Life”.

“That is an awesome movie.” I tried to make conversation, pointing to his book. “Do you like the pictures?”

“Pictures are for toddlers.” He scoffed, seemingly aggravated with my comment. “I’m already four, I am reading it.”

I was baffled. I chuckled to hide my surprise, hoping I wouldn’t aggravate him any further.

“Well, yes, if you’re four, you are certainly not a toddler.” I noticed the boy seemed pleased with my answer, the frown on his face relaxing slightly. “Who taught you how to read?”

“No one.” He shrugged. “I taught myself.”

“Impressive.” I nodded. “By the way, my name is Andrea. What is yours?” I extended my hand formally.

“Are you here to adopt a child?” He took his eyes off the book.

“I am here waiting to meet one, yes.” I answered, uneasy with his question.

“Then why do you want to know my name? You won’t see me again.” He looked straight at me, and that was when I really noticed his features. His hair was somewhat long and curly, and he was staring at me with sweet dark brown eyes that stood out from his very fair skin. I could see he wasn’t being defensive. He was genuinely curious as to why an adult thought of starting a conversation with him.

“Well, I could see you again.” I smiled. “If we were friends, I could visit more often, and we could talk about things you like.”

“Would you really do that?” His eyes seemed to be studying mine. “Would you visit me?”

“I would.” I nodded. For some reason, that idea excited me more than anything in this world.

And then it hit me. I was bonding with that boy. We were talking to each other for no longer than five minutes, and I already felt this affection towards him. And Victor wasn’t there.

“I’m Owen, Owen Cole.” His tiny hand reached mine, shaking it.

“Andrea Lee. Nice meeting you.” I melted with how adorable he was.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you!” I heard Victor approaching us from the end of the corridor.

“I’ve been busy making a new friend. Owen, this is my husband, Victor. Victor, this is my new friend, Owen.”

“Nice meeting you, Owen.” Victor smiled as the young boy formally shook his hand. “Andrea’s reading you a story?” He pointed at the book.

“I know how to read. I’m four already.” He explained to Victor, as he took a seat next to us. “I need to study hard if I want to become an insectologist. Better start now.”

Victor raised his eyebrows at me, surprised.

“You’re a very decided little man.” I complimented. “You know, when I was a little older than you, I would go to the forest next to my grandmother’s farm with my brother to hunt for crickets.”

“That is so cool!” His eyes widened. “Do you know that only males chirp, to call females to mate or chase away another male? They produce that sound by rubbing their wings together. And the females have their ears in their legs!” He laughed.

“Oh, I didn’t know about the ears!” I laughed as well.

“How did you catch them?” He asked, excited. “Did you use a special trap?”

“Just an empty bottle and some sugar, and a lot of patience. We would catch dozens of them sometimes. I can teach you how it’s done someday if you want to.”

I sense Miss Dillon approaching us with a smile, only to go past us without a word. Owen kept asking all sorts of questions and showing us what he knew about his favorite subject, which was in fact quite a lot. Victor would mostly listen, dropping a sentence now and then, apart from the time he shared his experience raising silkworms. When we noticed the time, it was getting dark, and Owen was summoned for dinner. We left him with another formal handshake and the promise that we would come back next week to visit him.

Back at home, I felt exhilarated, talking about how sweet that boy was, and so very enthusiastic.

“He learned how to read so he could learn more about insects!” I commented as I mixed the dressing into the salad. “That’s how determined he is. Reminds me of someone I know.”

“He’s a great kid, yes.” Victor smiled knowingly. “So, do you want to start formally visiting him for adoption?”

“What about the other girl we were supposed to see? Miss Dillon didn’t mention her when we left.” I frowned.

“Miss Dillon has been doing this for many decades. She must’ve canceled the meeting the moment she saw the two of you talking.” Victor replied as he finished setting the table.

I went to him, wrapping my arms around his waist, tilting my head to look at him.

“Well, this is not a decision I can make on my own, and you were mostly very quiet. What do you think? Did you like him?”

“I liked him very much, he reminds me of you.” He kissed my forehead as he caressed my hair. “You know, the curls, the sweet brown eyes… He could easily pass as your child.”

“Our child.” I corrected.

“Yes.” He smiled widely. “Our child.”

“So that’s a yes?” I beamed at him. “Or a maybe?”

“A solid yes.”

He chuckled as I threw myself in his arms, covering his face with kisses. Carrying me to the kitchen counter, he sat me on it and took me in his arms, kissing me deeply.

“Is this really happening? Are we really becoming parents?”I whispered, afraid that somehow fate would listen and make things go wrong.

“We are.” It was Victor’s turn to beam at me. “To a very special little boy.”

“Are you happy?” I made him face me, so I could see his expression. His eyes were shining.

“Overjoyed.”

“I love you so much.” My voice was strained, overwhelmed with affection.

“I love you too, my light. Thank you.”

He held me tightly in his arms, and I could hear his heart beating fast with happiness. We had been through a lot, but we had finally made it. We were becoming a family of three. The happy family Victor never had, and the one I had always dreamed about.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Doyenne ~ Part 5

Warnings: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy needs help from one of Birmingham’s most powerful underground gangs, the Hemlock Angels. Little does he know, he’s not the king of Birmingham after all.

Warnings: None really

Word Count: 2650

__________________________

Against your initial preference, Tommy had taken you back to his home, insisting that if Darby Sabini was after you, the last thing you should do was stay at home alone. At least at his house, he was there to keep you safe, despite your insistence that you were a fully capable gang boss in spite of your lack of penis. 

But why did part of you want to go to his house? Why did part of you actually like that he wanted to keep you safe? Why did part of you, against all previous accusations from business partners that he was a dirty double crosser, want to trust him? 

So that night you found yourself sitting on his couch with a glass of whiskey in your hand, staring off into the fire. Everything felt too relaxed for your comfort. Tommy’s main maid had given you medical supplies to cleanse and bandage up your calves and neck. She’d even drawn you a bath to wash off all the blood and apologized profusely when the only other clothes she could find was a clean uniform she kept in her quarters. 

Having read in the news word of Grace’s murder over a year ago, you had a suspicion that perhaps she and Tommy were lying but also completely understood why he wouldn’t want to lend you his deceased wife’s clothes. 

The maid’s uniform hadn’t bothered you at all. In fact, it made you feel humble again, a nice reminder of where you could be and that you needed to be grateful for what you had been able to build. 

“Are you alright?” Tommy inquired seeing that you’d been zoned out, looking at the fire roaring for who knew how long. 

You shook yourself from your thoughts, “Yeah… yeah. I’m fine.” You lied. You weren’t. All you could think about was the horrible end that your men had met. Although you knew that it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for it. There wasn’t even a valid reason for it. No good explanation. You just felt so damn guilty. And now you’d have to tell their wives and children what they’d lost.

“You weren’t responsible for what happened, Y/N.” Tommy sat in the armchair beside the couch you were on, practically reading your mind from your face. It was as if you hadn’t even tried to hide what you were feeling. Your typically personable or tough exterior was now solemn and void of light. 

Raising your cigarette to your lips, you took the deepest drag you’d ever taken, “I wish I could believe that. They were good men. They should have gotten real honest work. I never should have employed them knowing the risks of the job, knowing they had families.” 

“They chose to work. They could have gotten jobs anywhere in town but they made the choice to get into all of this. They knew the risks.” He spoke bluntly but truthfully and you knew it deep down. “Would’a like more?” He asked, pouring himself another glass and raising it to you, offering you a refill. 

“I’m alright, thank you.” You rejected, not even glancing down at the crystal in your hand. But you knew the last thing you needed right now was to spiral into a hole of drunkenness no matter how badly you wanted to. You were already feeling relaxed from the two glasses you’d had anyways but you weren’t sure just how relaxed you wanted to be near him. 

He lit himself a cigarette and stared off into the fire as well and the two of you sat in silence for a while. It was surprisingly comfortable considering your entire past with the exception of today had been filled with small arguments with the goal of establishing dominance over each other. But it wasn’t about that now. For once, you felt like equals and it was nice. In fact, it almost felt like neither of you were gang bosses at all but simply friends hanging out. It was a nice change for both of you but you couldn’t tell if the nervous butterflies in your stomach were from your subconscious not trusting him, being paranoid about Sabini’s men coming after you, or because you were alone with Tommy. 

“Thank you,” You finally mumbled out to him, eyes never leaving the roaring flames ahead of you, “For coming to save me earlier.” 

“You were only there because of our deal. As much as I didn’t want to get involved, I couldn’t bring myself to leave you to his will.” He almost sounded apologetic. Almost. 

A small forced snort left you, “You mean so that you can still get the last $50,000.” You corrected sarcastically. 

He shrugged, arms resting across the arms of his chair, “That is part of it.” 

You had to admit, you appreciated the honesty. “Well, regardless of your reasons, you did do a lot today.” You shifted in your seat, pulling your legs up onto the couch with you. 

“Are you cold?” Tommy asked in a surprising display of tenderness. 

It took you off guard, “What? Oh, no, no I’m fine. Thank you, Thomas.” You lied, tucking your feet in closer to you and flinching when your bandaged calves came into contact with your fingers. At least it had stopped bleeding finally. 

He straightened up slightly at the sound of his first name coming from your lips. It was the first time you’d referred to him as anything but Mr. Shelby. Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it was a new sense of comfort since he’d referred to you by your first name earlier today in the heat of panic. Regardless, his name coming from you sounded like liquid gold. 

Wordlessly, Tommy stood up and walked off to a cupboard before returning with a burgundy blanket and handed it to you, “Take it. You’re cold.” He extended the folded blanket to you and you took it, finding yourself caught staring at him as you did so. 

Even though he still had that same dang cold look on his face, his eyes almost seemed gentle and concerned in a way you’d never expected to see from him. The fire burning brightly behind him illuminated every highlight and cast shadows to accentuate every sharp angular line. He’d shed his coat earlier in the night, now relaxing in his white button up, tie, and suspenders. 

Had he always been this attractive? No, no, stop that. 

“Thank you,” You reluctantly took the blanket but didn’t hesitate to throw it over your body. This time, instead of returning to his arm chair, he sat beside you on the couch. You eyed the distance between the two of you, heart pounding inexplicably. He was still sitting a respectful distance away, there was nothing to be concerned about. But why did he sit on the couch when he’d already established a seat in the chair? 

“Can’t have you go freezing on me.” 

You looked over with a shocked expression, “Was that actually a joke? Is Thomas Shelby actually capable of having a sense of humor?” You teased but the amazement was genuine.

He sighed, sipping his whiskey to hide the chuckle that had threatened to creep its way up, “It has been known to happen on rare occasions.” 

“Ah, well don’t keep it up. Someone might think you have a heart.” You joked, nudging his leg slightly with your foot through the blanket. 

Tommy’s eyes flashed to his leg just as the movement happened and his chest froze up. Were you flirting with him? You’d been flirting with him throughout your entire professional relationship so far but he’d chalked it up to a tactic you used to get what you want. His suspicions had only been confirmed when your entire demeanor changed as the day’s events unravelled but this looked like genuine flirting.

He’d watched as your confident, almost cocky, attitude had melted away into a real person. It was a shift that you hated watching in yourself. You’d never allowed your facade to drop for anyone except yourself and Rita. Even then, it wasn’t much of a facade. It was the real you, just the most confident version of you. The most manipulative version of you. Not that you were a necessarily manipulative person but you had ways of getting what you wanted, through both force and kind gestures. But now you were a real person around him. 

“So how did you get into all of this?” You pried, feeling more relaxed with your questions as the two whiskey’s kicked in. 

Tommy shifted to lean back into the crevice of the couch, turning to face you more, “Well, me father was a thief when he was around. He stole whatever he could get his hands on and that was all he did. No real job or anything. My mum was dead too so we didn’t have much money, even before he left us. When he did, I swore we’d never live like that again. The Blinders were just a small, mostly family, group running books illegally before the war but when I came back, it took off.” He explained, surprisingly candidly. He inhaled, the sudden weight of the truth being out to anyone but his family weighing on him instead of making him feel lighter, “What about you?” 

You gulped down the rest of you whiskey, “Kind of similar. Grew up flat broke. My parents worked their asses off to provide for us. My dad got injured in the factory and my brother went off to war where he was killed. It was just up to me and me mum to take care of everyone but it became very clear very quickly that women don’t make enough to live in the city here. A change needed to be made. I needed to be paid like a man. So I started small with bootlegging and it grew from there.” 

You sighed, adding, “My brother never knew anything but poverty and struggle. All I wanted was to show him how good life could be.” 

“I’m sure he would be very proud of you. I like to think the same about my late wife.” Tommy admitted, stopping when he did. What on Earth was he thinking, bringing up Grace? He knew what happened when he thought about her. This wasn’t the time or place. 

“I read about that in the paper when it happened. I’m so sorry for your loss.” You knew a thing or two about loss. Not in a romantic sense but you’d lost many people that you loved. 

Tommy sighed, wanting to change the subject. He hated that he let his guard down with anyone. “Are you still okay on whiskey?” 

You laughed quietly, “You trying to get me drunk?” Tommy didn’t say anything, just looked exasperatedly at you and your jokes, “Okay, fine. Can I please get another glass?” 

He nodded, getting up to pour you more. You muttered your thanks when he went to return the crystal bottle, “So is all this nice stuff just an act to get what you want?” 

The question took you back although it was something you’d been asked before. Most of the men in the business didn’t understand that kindness could get you more than violence in some situations. “Not entirely,” You began honestly,” I think that kindness is a good initial motivator, especially when they’re doing a favor for you. In business, it shows good faith. But don’t you see enough misery in this God forsaken city, anyways? I’m not here to make people miserable. Quite the opposite,” You stood up and walked towards the fireplace, leaning on the wall beside the mantle, “I want money and success but if I can do it while helping people escape life for a while, then that’s the best thing I can think of.” You paused, almost for dramatic affect, your voice more stern when you spoke again, “Violence is a good tactic when the kindness runs out.” 

Tommy nodded, eyebrows raising for just a moment as he considered that perhaps you had a good thing going, “I have to admit, sounds like you might be onto something,” He pressed himself up from the couch, strolling towards you casually, “It seems like your people seem to respect you and listen to you. They don’t question your authority.” 

With every word he spoke, he took another step towards you until he was almost toe to toe with you. You leaned back against the wall and looked up at him, his face completely illuminated by the warm fire light, your heart in your throat. He was beautiful and he was standing so close. The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocatingly so. 

His eyes locked on yours and no matter how hard you tried to pry them away, you couldn’t bring yourself to. You didn’t want to. Your body was suddenly strong, as if trying to fight the vibe in the room, as Tommy peered down on you. You almost fell into his touch before he could even make contact with you, so touch starved. You’d been so caught up in your work for so long, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d felt the touch of another person. 

Just when the tension became too much, just as it was about to crack, just as you saw his hand move to touch who knows what part of you, you ducked away from him, rubbing your arm awkwardly, “I should really get going to bed. Long day, y’know? But, um, thank you again for everything.” You lamely excused yourself, screaming at yourself to get a hold of your emotions. 

Tommy reached behind his neck with the hand he was going to touch you with, playing it off as if he were rubbing his neck, “Yes, yes, of course. Let me show you the guest room.” He offered, already beginning to walk towards the stairs before you stopped him. 

“Thank you,” You put your hands up panickedly, “But I think I remember where it was when I got changed earlier. But if I get lost, I’ll let you know.” You chuckled awkwardly, backing up slowly towards the stairs as you spoke. “Have a great night, Mr. Shelby.” 

Tommy watched in confusion as you made your way up the stairs, totally avoiding all eye contact with him. There it was. His last name again. Not Thomas anymore as it had been all day. Once your form disappeared around the wall, Tommy groaned and downed his whiskey in one huge gulp, slamming his glass down on the table. His fingers gripped the wood of the side table tightly as he hung his head down, trying to collect himself. He was slipping. Emotions were too high now, yours from being kidnapped, his from talking about Grace. Maybe it was for the best that nothing happened. 

When you made it to your room, you quietly but firmly closed the door, leaning against it while you sank to the ground. Your hands ran through your hair as you took a deep breath. Stop, take a breath, get yourself together. Touch deprivation, alcohol, emotional distress, actual attraction and reciprocated flirtation for the first time in a long time… it was all getting to you. But it was getting your guard down. You had to get a hold of yourself. 

This attraction to Tommy was unprecedented. Most other men you worked with were older or had comb overs or little mustaches that were just too small to look natural or were complete utter asses to you about your gender. But here Thomas Shelby was, right in front of you, non-discrediting, valiant, smart. A true equal to you. And his amazing looks didn’t hurt anything either. 

But it did. It hurt everything because with him, you let your walls come down, and you knew from experience that that could be disastrous. 

[writingsfromstarfleet]

You Are Not Alone - Beverly Crusher X Reader

A/N: Hello! This a request for @iciclesandsnow so I do hope you enjoy it and I hope it’s what you wanted! Thank you for the request! x

TW: mentions of mental health, death and lots of crying. If any one of you reading needs someone or wants to talk, don’t hesitate to message me, I’m always here for anyone. Especially during a time like this. Be okay guys, I love you all. X

Days went on. Weeks went by. Years could have gone by for all you'd noticed. Nobody aboard the Enterprise knew what was going on in your life and your head, and if you had to be quite honest with yourself, neither did you. You couldn't remember the last time a genuine laugh had left your throat. These days it was pity laughs, laughs to keep up appearances, and those were starting to become more effort than they all were worth.

The beginning of your Starfleet career was amazing. You'd graduated the academy with top marks and found yourself assigned to your first mission within weeks of graduation. Your father was a captain, away on a 3-year mission. He was the closest family member you had, always encouraging you to follow in his footsteps, never once pushing you where you didn't want to go. To say you missed him was an understatement, the thought you were going to see him again soon kept you going.

Jean-Luc Picard was your captain on the Enterprise, and you couldn't have asked for anyone better to serve under. He was stern and serious, though deep down his close crew knew that he was a kindhearted man. The captain had become somewhat of a father figure to you, the advice he gave and the lessons you learned from him would stick with you for the rest of your life. A man who valued his crew and the relationships he had formed with them, he could tell when things weren't quite right. From what Jean-Luc gathered, he was not alone in his thinking.

Your captain wasn't the only relationship you'd formed during your time on board. People like Deanna Troi, Beverly Crusher and Will Riker became very close friends of yours, not mention the unexpected friendship that flourished with Worf and Data, the most unlikely of friends you'd thought you would make. You had the knack of getting along with anyone, and were more than friendly to all who knew you, which is why nobody wanted to see you as sad as you seemed.

"So what do you think it is?" Will asked to the group, consisting of Deanna, Worf and himself, all sat around a table in Ten Forward, the topic at hand being you. They exchanged glances before Deanna spoke up.

"I'm not sure, every time I see Y/N, there's a feeling of sadness, a real sadness, but I'm not quite sure what it is. I'd like to help, though I feel Y/N doesn't want that.." she trailed off in thought. Will sighed. "I don't do well in those situations either, I can't talk to people like that. I'm far from an emotions kind of man." Your friends wanted to help, but how, they knew not.

Going about your business in more than silence, you completed the tasks you needed to, finishing as quickly as possible so you could return to your quarters, having little to no energy or patience for your job today. Your comm badge rang, and the captain's voice rang through.

"Lieutenant Y/N, report to my ready room."

Sighing and standing, you didn't reply, but set off for the bridge nonetheless. Even in your current mindset, you were not one to ignore your higher officers orders. Stepping into the turbolift, you were met with Dr Crusher, who smiled sweetly at you. She was a very good friend, you could say you trusted her with anything. You meekly smiled back, barely even moving your lips.

"Y/N, everything alright?" Her question hit the air, silence offered as a reply.

"If you don't want to talk, that's perfectly fine. I'm worried, though. If you do need anyone for anything, please don't hesitate to come to me. I'm here to listen, and my arms are open, as always." She stepped out on her level, leaving you with a squeeze to the shoulder. You half smiled, a silent acknowledgement of her offer, she caught it and left you be. Your floor came and you made your way through the bridge, feeling some eyes on you as you walked. If you were facing them, you would have seen their worry. Giving each other glances, they returned to their work.

"Y/N, please have a seat" Picard said, a softness in his voice that wasn't usually present. Sitting, you stared at him, confused as to your summons. "We had word from Starfleet today concerning your father's ship." He took a deep breath, watching your face ever so slightly shift from confusion to concern. Continuing, he himself became nervous. "Your father's ship was attacked by Romulans two days ago, and your father died in the battle. From what Starfleet has said, he fought valiantly, he managed to save many lives, sadly not his own. I'm sorry, Y/N."

You stood, eyes planted at the floor.

"May I be excused, sir?" your voice came, barely a whisper. Looking up at him, he nodded, offering a sympathetic smile to you. Just what you wanted, sympathy. There was nothing worse, in your eyes. Storming off with a hell of a pace, you left the ready room, tears flowing fast down your face. Crew looked on, puzzled.

Reaching your quarters, in time you thought wasn't quick enough, you locked the door, and leaned your forehead against it. Slamming a hand down on the door, you pushed yourself off and smashed the vase off the table next to the door. It shattered against the wall with a deafening crash. Whatever switched in your head forced you to continue throwing things with no prejudice, whatever was closest hit the wall. The commotion from inside your quarters drew attention from two ensigns passing in the hall, who swiftly decided to alert the first senior officer they could find.

Minutes later, your quarters were a mess, shoes flung about, smashed statues and cups, possessions strewn all over the floor. The door chimed and you ignored it with full acknowledgement, and it persistently rang out, angering you more that someone had dared bother you at a time like this.

On the other side of the door stood Captain Picard, Worf and an extremely panicked Dr Crusher attempting to override your door lock. Picard placed his hand on Beverly's shaking ones as she tried her best to not her panic take over. She cared, it wasn't hard to see. She cared to the point that her nerves came to the surface. Wordlessly, he offered his support to her. The banging slowed, but still hadn't stopped, and the trio had finally gained access to your quarters.

Before you could turn to see who had entered, there were two dainty arms around your torso and a mane of ginger hair in your face. Beverly had engulfed you in a hug, and you lost it. Your tears flowed freely as she pulled back, bringing you to the edge of your bed to sit down. The captain and Worf surveyed the outcome of your rampage and the damage was awful. They turned their attention to where it should be for the moment. You.

"Y/N," the doctor's soft voice brought you from your thoughts, you looked up, your teary eyes meeting her very concerned blue ones. "What happened?" You couldn't answer and instead looked down at your lap, crying silently now. The two men shared a look before Picard bent down to your level.

"Whatever it is, you know we can all help. Any one of us is here for you at any time, you need only ask." He placed a hand on your knee and patted it gently, you smiled somewhat, though you weren't sure how genuine it was. You knew his words were true and you were grateful for the crew, your mind at the minute couldn't quite process that thought. "Mr Worf, let's leave them to it, there's no danger any more I don't think." You chuckled slightly, and because you were staring at your lap, you didn't notice the look shared between the three of them as the two men exited, leaving you and Beverly alone.

"Now, what happened?" You sniffed, as she moved to sit beside you rather than kneel in front of you. You began to explain.

"The past couple of weeks have been the hardest of my life, and I can't tell you why. I don't know why. It started with me feeling a little down, which I know from time to time is normal, so I didn't go to Deanna. It got worse as the weeks went on, I started being late, I couldn't finish reports and I couldn't even bring myself to socialise with the crew, with my friends." She took your hands as you stopped, a silent encouragement for you to continue. Beverly knew you needed to get this all out, and she was determined to make it happen.

"The captain told me earlier on that my father's ship was attacked by Romulans whilst on a science mission. He had managed to get some people out in shuttles but didn't make it himself. He was my rock, Beverly, he.." You couldn't even finish, and she took you in her arms, letting you cry it all out. After what seemed like an eternity for you, but had in reality been around 5 minutes, she let up as you calmed.

Beverly took your face in her hands and made you look at her. You could almost hear her heart break at the sight of you so red eyed and teary.

"I am so sorry, Y/N. I am so sorry this happened to you. Things like this are not easy to deal with, it doesn't need to be said. But always remember, I'm here for you. We all are. This crew is a family, and we stick together through the good times and the bad times. No matter how bad things get, help is always there." She wiped your remaining tears and smiled. Her smile was beautiful and contagious, you couldn't help but smile back. A genuine, tooth bearing smile for the first time in ages, because you knew. You knew that everything you'd been told was true. They were your family, and they had your back.

"How about we go and get something to eat, yeah?" She extended her hand and you took it, standing and thanking her silently. She grinned again, and began walking off, thankful she had her Y/N back again.

"One final thing. Remember, no matter how bad the fall, the crew of the Enterprise are always there to catch you."

[secondhand-trash]

Good People

@shinsoubowl​ Week Day 4 (Prompt: Hero+Villain)

A/N: Out of all seven days, this is probably the hardest to write for me but I did succeed in slipping a Fleabag reference in there again so it’s all good. I’m just hoping and praying that this turns out ok.

(Also, Tumblr has been acting strange and not letting me add more than 5 tags recently so the exposure is greatly limited and I'm petty about things like that because I do work hard on everything I put out so reblogs are greatly appreciated qwq)

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x villain!reader

Description: You had lost your hope that there were genuinely good people in the world a long time ago. So no, just because this hero was nice and didn’t want to fight you could not convince you anything.

Word count: 3125

Playlist:

Me//The 1975

Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked//Cage The Elephant

Something Has to Change//The Japanese House

-

If you got to start all over again, you would have never gone down this path in the first place.

It started off as minor shoplifting in convenient stores when you were a kid. You knew that it was wrong, but the wall of candy was too tempting and there was no way you could ask you parents for money when they were struggling to put food on the table each day. Your father got into heavy debt after his business partner took all of the company’s assets and disappeared from the surface of earth one day. The salary he earned was barely enough to keep the family alive, spending a large portion of it to pay off the loans.

You never got caught, not even once, and it only prompted you to keep going. You slowly moved onto pickpocketing and stealing cash from registers when the shop keeper wasn’t looking. It made you even more money but it also started forming this empty pit of guilt at the back of your head and yet you never stopped.

By then, you father had entered eternal slumber and something about the sigh of relieve from your mother when you handed her the cash pushed you to keep going back. There were times when she looked like she wanted to say something before you sneaked out of the house ‘for work’ but she never said anything, silently pulling back the hand that attempted to reach for her child.

Then there came the time when snooping around for inattentive by passers could no longer fulfill that urge in you.

Hiding in a dark alley, you gathered your breath as the security guards of the shop you just broke into ran past the spot you were hiding at. Checking that there was no one around, you pulled out that heavy gold bracelet from the pocket of your belt. You did not need the price tag on the display to see that you could make good money out of it. Inspecting it carefully under the flickering street light, you sighed in pity that the intricate carving on the gold would soon be gone when you handed it to the dealer.

Sometimes, you were afraid that you had started to enjoy what you were doing instead of treating it as nothing but a line of work like you convinced yourself to be.

“Pretty valuable stuff you got there but I’m almost certain that it’s not yours. Mind if I put it back to where it belong?”

You immediately went into high alert and shoved the bracelet back into your pocket when you heard the voice from above your head. Snapping up, you saw a man with a black mask looking down on you from the lamp post.

Great, a pro-hero.

A long piece of fabric extended towards you and you jumped to deck from the attack. You had heard of this particular pro from other people of your kind. He was new to the scene, making quite a name for himself with his skillful tactics and overpowering quirk.

“You’re not going to answer me? How rude.” the man clicked his tongue as he leaped from where he stood and made another attempt at trapping you with his scarf. You pursed your lips tight, avoiding even the smallest of responses towards the man. You remembered what they told you about him, one word and he had you under control, and you had been struggling on this path you went down for far too long to be captured now.

A villain, that’s what they called you, to which you only scoffed. Perhaps you were a villain, but if you were a villain, what were the people who turned you to this side of the moral compass? Were they good people? And this hero who was here to give you the punishment the society thought you deserved, was he a good person under that mask and the costume?

People did not overrate his ability in combat. You were having a rough time fending him off while resisting the possibility of a slip of the mouth, but you could tell that he was new to this. He knew what he was doing but none of his punches were lethal. He was holding back.

In a perfect world, he would be respected for having mercy on you, the villain. But the world was not perfect and most of the time, it was far from being good. Hesitating could be a great flaw.

Spotting one of the hero’s weakness in defense, you took the chance land a punch right at his stomach, forcing him to bend down no matter how fast he could react under physical reflectiveness. By the time he recovered, you had already gone out of his sight, leaving him alone in the dim alley.

Sliding in through the unlocked window, you frowned at how the light of the living room was still on. Living room, you silently laughed in bitterness at the thought, like you weren’t living in a tiny flat that was split into rooms by thin curtains hanging on the ceiling. “Mom? Why haven’t you gone to sleep? I told you that there’s no need to wait for me.”

The woman on the couch was already drifting into sleep when you called for her. You knew that she hadn’t been feeling well recently and you had tried to tell her to get more rest but it seemed that you got your stubbornness from her.

“I can’t sleep without knowing that you got home safely,” she smiled and you could see the wrinkles at the end of her eyes. When did those start to appear? For as long as you could remember, there wasn’t a time when there weren’t any lines on her forehead, an effect of furrowing her eyebrows together too often. “How was work?”

You felt bad for lying to her but you could not say it out loud. You could not say it to her face that her child was a villain who stole things for a living, even when you were almost certain that she already knew. After all, mothers know best.

“It went alright,” you tried to force a nonchalant smile even when your stomach was twisting together in guilt and lifted the curtain to where you slept, “I’ll just go to bed now. You should get some rest too, you’re looking really pale.”

You had long accepted the fact that you were no perfect human being and most of the time, you were certain that you could not even touch the line of being good, but lying to your mother would never stop making you feel like the worst person alive.

You kept running into the same pro-hero who you met in the alleyway from that night onwards. Where ever you were, he was there waiting already. It was starting to get tiresome and rather creepy, if you would be so bold to say.

For the first few days, a fight would inevitably break out between the two of you and it always ended the same way with you escaping by a hitch. Then he stopped trying to capture you through battling and it was worse, because he started talking to you.

If fighting him was a pain in the ass, than this new method of his was straight up torture.

It started off as him trying to irritate you into responding with jabs or insults but he soon realised that it was not enough to get you to talk as you would just rolled your eyes and threw punches at him. Looking back, you wished it had stayed that way because he somehow managed to make the whole thing even more annoying. He would block your only route of escape and started talking to you like he was just talking to a friend about his day. There were times when you were so baffled by the sheer stupidity of the whole thing that you almost gave in and yelled at him. Needless to say, it took a lot of self-control to bite your tongue when all you wanted to do was get him to shut up.

Still, you would at least tried to hear what he had to say each time before finding a way out. It would be a lie if you say that there wasn’t something stupidly entertaining about the hero rambling on about the random things that happened in his life when he could be fighting you instead. You almost anticipated him to show up each night and just started talking when you never gave him any responses other than exaggerated facial expressions at all.

If he wasn’t here to arrest you, you might actually take a liking towards that man.

You already had one leg hanging off the barricade as you were about to make a jump to the ground from the balcony when the hero showed up tonight. You stopped and turned to look behind you where the hero landed, raising a brow towards him.

“Sorry that I’m a bit later than usual, had to chase down this other guy who was robbing a bank.” he laughed when your eyebrow only arched at his statement, “Don’t look so shocked, you’re not the only one I’m trying to capture.”

You nodded in amusement. You weren’t sure when this whole process felt like less of a competition to see who break first and more like two people genuinely hanging out. “Although it really doesn’t feel like I’m even trying to capture you anymore.”

You grinned and tilted your head. You would love to believe that it was the case and he was just here night after night because he wanted to talk to you but it was never wrong to stay alerted. “Can you just say something? It feels like I’m talking to myself here! I promise I won’t use my quirk on you.” the hero pleaded but you doubted its sincerity due to the smirk on his face and you shook your head, the smile never left your face. “Come on! I know you want to!”

He wasn’t wrong, you did want to but your survival instinct override this childish desire. You were a villain and he was a pro-hero, you two weren’t meant to be friends and simply wouldn’t happen no matter how much you wanted to talk to him like normal people do.

Smirking, you turned your back to him and was about to leap down when his voice caught you by surprise.

“Fuck you, then.”

You snapped back, entertained beyond measure by his response. You had to purse your lips to prevent the laughter that was threatening to escape and gave him a look as in to ask him, “Really?”

When you lie on your mattress with your eyes closed, it was the amused glimmer in the hero’s purple eyes that kept showing up in your head.

You fell asleep with a smile on your face that night.

You shouldn’t get attached, it’s dangerous, but you had become way too fond of the strange hero who talked to you every night at this point to back out. The two of you were standing on the balcony where you would for sure past by each night. Leaning against the fence, you put your chin on your hand with one elbow supporting it on the fence as the hero standing next to you rambled on.

You wondered if you two would have become friends if the circumstances were different. It was a stupid move that could wash all your hard word down the drain but at that point, you didn’t care. This had been bugging you since you met this guy and despite better judgment, you weren’t really sure how long you could keep this in.

“Why are you still here talking to me?” the hero’s eyes widened as he heard your voice for the first time. “You’re a pro-hero, I’m a villain. You’re supposed to fight me, not hang out with me.”

He paused for a while, “I don’t think you’re like other villains.”

You snorted in bafflement and didn’t say another word. He sighed, seeing that you didn’t trust him enough to actually respond to him. “I’ve been keeping a record of what you did since I met you that day. You never steal from small businesses, only big cooperation or rich people.”

“And that’s how you decided that I’m not like other villains?” you replied, basically taking a leap of faith to see if this person you had been talking to for the past weeks was actually as decent as you hoped him to be. A rush of relieve washed through you when you could feel that your body was still under your own control.

“You’re not doing it just to cause chaos or hurt people like a lot of other villains and, I don’t know, I guess there are chances that you might be a good person.” he said with an earnest that left you unable to react. A good person. How long had it been since someone called you that? “I saw the way you fight, put it to good use and you might actually save the world-”

“Why do I want to save the world when the world never saved me?” you turned to look at him in the eyes and felt yourself stiffen at the look in his eyes. He would not get it, you bitterly thought to yourself. “I did not choose to be like this but when no one came to save you, you might just be isolated for long enough to become a villain.”

This was a waste of time, ‘villains’ weren’t supposed to confide in heroes and it was naive of you to even think that he would understand. Climbing over the fence, you stared at the hero before you escaped into the darkness.

“The world isn’t good. Trust me, I’m a villain.”

You were sure that it was the universe playing a joke on you to prove just how bad it could be when you woke up the next morning to find your mother collapsed on the ground. The sight was something out of your worst nightmare and you could not breath properly until you held her wrist to sense that she was still alive. She was burning with a fever so high in temperature that you were starting to fear that the day you were truly on your own would come sooner than you detested.

You tried everything you know, every medicine you could get your hands on but there was no use. She was still unable to even move when the night arrived and you were worried sick. It was the first time that you cursed yourself for having a lifestyle that was everything but legal. You could not take her to the doctors because hospitals keep record on everything and it would not take them a lot of time to find out what exactly you were up to. If this was about you, then you would just take the risk and turn to somewhere shady but it was your mother, and you would rather trade your soul than to put her in harm.

You knew what you should do the moment you stepped out of your house that night.

Shinsou was almost unsure if you would show up. You seemed to be quite pissed off last night and he wasn’t sure if you would still want to see him after that. It started off as an attempt to lure you into activating his quirk by accident but he had come to quite enjoy those late night conversations. He immediately perked up when you climbed onto the balcony.

You walked straight up to the hero and grabbed the scarf circled around his neck. His body tensed up at your sudden action but his mouth hang agape in shock when he saw you took it and wrapped it around your own wrist.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” you took a deep, shaky breath and said, “you’re gonna hand me over to the police and tell them that you captured me.”

“What? Wait a sec-”

“I’ll tell you where I hide everything I’ve ever stolen,” you sounded so calm it almost frightened him, “there’s a woman there, a really sick one. I don’t know how but please god get her somewhere better than that-”

“No.”

You stopped when you heard him. “What?” you yelled in disbelieve. “I am making your job easier for you, what do you mean ‘no’?”

“You’re not making any sense! Is something going on?”

“Yes!” you threw your hands in the air. You could feel tears forming in the corner of your eyes as you screamed in frustration, “My mother is dying because I’m a fucking villain and I can’t get her any help!”

“And your way out is to hand yourself in?”

“Well I don’t know what else I can do and if there’s someone who have to profit off of my misery I want it to be you because you talked to me and made me laugh and even if you might not turn out to be a good as I think you might be but at least you are a decent person and a decent person is fucking hard to find.” you said it all in one breath and gasped for air as you gathered your breath. “So please, I beg of you, just help me out and do as I say.”

Shinsou wasn’t sure what he should do but you looked like you were about to break down and that hurt him way more than it should. Although his movements were a bit stiff, he sighed in relieve when you didn’t protest as he wrapped his arms around you. “Told you, you are a good person.”

You sniffled and mumbled against his shoulder, “You have really low standard for ‘good’.”

“Let me help you,” he pulled away and wiped a thumb one your cheek to dry the tear that ran down your face, “I won’t hand you over but I’ll help you if you let me. That’s what heroes are supposed to do, right? We help people.”

You let out a broken laugh. You weren’t sure why you believed him but that look in his eyes was all too convincing. And for the first time in a really long while, you truly believed that perhaps there were good people in this not-so-good world after all.

No one had ever saved you, not until Shinsou Hitoshi talked his way into your life.

[mochilici0us]

One New Message | jjk (4)

➳ 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: angst, thriller, stalker au

➳ 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: Skye realizes she has to deal with a ruthless stalker when the messages she’s constantly receiving are getting more and more threatening. A stalker that makes her recall memories of the past she swore she would never rake up again

➳ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2,5k

prologue, part one, part two, part three, part four

April 2013

''Skye can you pass me the milk please?'' my father kindly requests while we enjoy our breakfast. They enjoy to be exact. I can hardly take part in their conversation, my mind is away.

My eyes can't stop following her skinnier, exhausted figure moving from the kitchen to the dining haul and serving breakfast.

Something's up these days, she avoids eye contact with me at all costs, we haven't even talked properly. She's acting cold towards me just muttering a few weak goodmornings and goodnights. Yeah, those are the only words I've exchanged with my ''best friend'', not even a little talk to catch up with each other's news.

''Ruby can you fetch me some honey?'' my mother yells so that Ruby listens from the kitchen. A few seconds after she appears holding a jar of honey. Even her walk is stiff, I'm genuinely concerned about her health.

''Here you are'' I'm sure she can feel my burning gaze as she leaves the honey on the table and finally after a week our eyes meet.

Shit, she looks so pale, dark circles under her red eyes, chipped lips, I can even practically see her facial bones. To my surprise she doesn't look annoyed or angry. She just glances at me tiredly, as if she had quit living.

My piercing gaze on the other hand is anything but calm and sympathetic. She's clearly sick, something's eating her alive and instead of sharing her concerns with me she stays away?

Our eye contact lasts only for a few seconds but it's strong enough to show my restrained rage.

She realizes it immediately, averts her gaze and leaves like the coward she is.

''This weekend I'm leaving on an unexpected business trip'' my father announces and takes a sip of his coffee right after

''Again? You were on a business trip last week'' my mother fires back

''Do you think it's up to me? For your information I'd rather stay home and relax with my family''

''I don't mean it's your fault I just...''

''You make me feel terrible every time I have to tell you about a businesstrip. I can't talk to my family without restrictions anymore Christen''

''Ok I'm sorry don't get mad'' my mother lowers her eyes and apologises quickly before my father gets more angry.

Sometimes I admire my dad. He's so manipulative but not in a bossy way, he always prevails upon my mother with sensible arguments, voice laced with sweetness.

He's so diplomatic, no doubt he has built such a great career

''Darling why are you not eating?'' my mother remarks as I fiddle with the spoon. The bowl of granola cereals is untouched.

''I have no appetite. I have to go to school anyway, I'm late'' I pretendto study my watch and stand up

''Do you want me to come with you?'' my father suggests

''Nο it's ok I can walk''

''Skye are you sure everything's ok?'' I hear my mother's voice as I head towards the living room to grab my backpack.

''I'm fine mum I just didn't sleep well. See you later''

As I'm about to exit alone Ruby appears out of nowhere. Her body posture screams nervousness.

''You didn't eat your breakfast'' she speaks quietly biting her already chopped lips

She's been avoiding me for a week and now she pretends to be a thoughtful friend. She made me feel depressed, cry myself to sleep thinking what the hell I did wrong and now she plays dumb?

I just stay still without answering, my intense eyes glued to her wandering ones. She doesn't even dare to look at my eyes.

She clears her throat ''Here''she takes a fresh hand-made sandwich out of her pocket and extends her hand. I eye her hand without moving an inch.

''You can eat it instead. You look like a sceleton'' I spit my venom and walk out of my house without sparing her a glance.

It was too late when I realized what I had said.

''I love spaghetti but my mother never cooks. My dad says she cooks terrible but that's a secret'' Grace's friend Lisa whispers and pretends to seal her lips. She's so cute.

''Don't worry your secret is safe''

She nods and digs into her food again. Under other circumstances I wouldn't have cooked but today Susan picked up both Grace and Lisa so I couldn't disoblige her. Her puppy eyes gave me enough courage to get up and cook even though I'm still in a cast.

The three of us are sitting in the dining table and enjoying my home-made bolognese spaghetti. I was never good at cooking, I couldn't cook to save my life to be exact but I had to learn how for Grace. So I practiced and practiced till I reached my goal, I didn't want to become the new master chef, just learn how to cook some basic things so that Grace eats home-made food. In the beginning I would constantly fail but practice makes perfect.

''Eat your veggies as well girls'' I gesture at the bowl of salad.

They both nod like good girls and do as I say. They're so freaking adorable. Lisa has short black hair with bangs and chocolate brown eyes. She's small but taller than Grace. She comes by often, most of the times I pick her up from school as well since Grace and her are classmates.

Her favorite foods are spaghetti, steak with baby potatoes and vegetable fried rice. Let's not forget my signature fruit smoothie which I always serve with vanilla frosting cupcakes.

We always sit and eat together, exchanging news, telling jokes. I really enjoy their interactions, they look like two tiny dumplings.

"What did you do in school today?" I ask intertwining my fingers

"We drew our dream gardens, mine has a huge swimming pool" Lisa hurries to answer

"Mine has a plenty of colorful flowers and a big telescope on the center to admire the stars. And the Sky. Sky as we say Skye" Grace jokes shyly, puffing her flushed cheeks. Lisa bursts into a laughter once she gets the joke.

"Good one Grace" I wink at my little sister who resembles a puppy waiting for a praise.

After a while we're finally done with the food. I really missed cooking and eating my own food, Susan cooks pretty decently as well but I was craving so bad for some of my spaghetti.

''Did you enjoy your meal girls?'' I eye the empty plates

''Yeah!''they both cheer

''Go to play now while I prepare your fruits''

The two small kitties obey and walk towards the room wiggling their small butts. I can't help but chuckle at them.

My eyes land on the dirty dining table as I sigh disappointed, washing the dishes is definitely the worst part of cooking and eating. No matter how much I enjoy preparing food and trying new recipes, the process of cleaning after is terrible. I'm going to wash the dishes later I think and slowly proceed to my big kitchen to cut fruits for the girls, my hands holding the crutches tight.

Being on my feet isn't the best idea whatsoever but tomorrow I'm having my cast removed so my ankle is pretty much healed.

I go for strawberries, bananas and pears and also pick two colorful bowls.

As I already mentioned tomorrow I'm having my cast removed. My stomach twitches in anticipation. Will he be there? Two weeks have passed but I still find myself thinking of him before sleeping even though the picture of him is blurry and distant. Just a memory, a distant picture of him is enough to keep me up at night...

I brush away these thoughts and throw the fruits into the bowls, adding some honey on top and voila! A quick and healthy sweet fruit salad.

"Girls come on" I yell and wait for the two little ones to arrive, trying to distract my mind from unwanted thoughts.

What I know for sure is that tomorrow is a big day....

"You're finally able to walk again, I'm so happy'' Susan cheers and hugs me tight as we exit the hospital. Unfortunately I didn't have my cast removed by the pretty doctor, he didn't even appear to be exact.

Disappointed but not suprised

The young cute nurse was there though, she recognized me and even greeted me, I was THIS close to ask about him but my pride didn't allow me.

''How are you feeling?'' Her hand strokes my back

''Weird'' I respond eyeing my healed ankle ''I was used to walking on crutches''

Indeed last 2 weeks I would only walk using my crutches, they had become a part of my routine. I certainly feel better now though, well-rested,healthy, ready to return to reality.

''Let's go, I'm treating you to brunch.. There are so many things we have to catch up on after''

''W-what do you mean?'' I stutter scared because I have a feeling that I already know her answer

''Shopping therapy of course''

Oh no...

''Susan are you kidding I just removed my cast''

''Sweetheart you know I wouldn't drag you along unless I had a reason. Next Tuesday is Yoongi's birthday party, we have to get our outfits''

''Yoongi's birthday...'' I scratch my sculpt looking at her sheepishly''I totally forgot, I'm sorry''

''It's ok, you're coming anyway''

''What about-''

''Taehyung's gonna take care of your sister don't worry'' she cuts me off as if she had read my thoughts

I nod, it's rude to deny the invitation

''Yoongi's friends are really handsome and some of them are single so don't think you're getting off. We have to find a cute outfit for you as well... now let's eat'' I roll my eyes but agree rubbing my stomach that hasn't stopped rumbling and finally get in her car .

''It's stunning'' I examine the purple midi dress Susan's holding. The material is silk, it appears glamorous, expensive and the embellished straps detail completes the look.

''Should I try it on?'' she hesitates

''Of course, purple looks amazing on you'' That's true, the contrast between her ginger hair, green eyes and the purple colour is definitely unique. Purple flatters every single of her characteristics.

''Let's find something for you'' her eyes wander around the store

''I gained weight these days so I should go for something baggy''

''No Skye, you should go for something sexy yet sick that emphasizes your cleavage. Your boobs got bigger, thankfully'' she whispers the last word and rolls her eyes

''Susan'' I whisper yell covering my breasts with my hands ''Did they?'' I rethink my friend's comment. Indeed I've noticed a slight development. This whole weight gaining story had a positive result at least.

Once I realise where my hands are and how the rest of the customers look at me probably thinking I'm a horny pervert I instantly lower them and grab the first dress I lay my eyes on.

''This one is perfect yes'' Susan practically runs towards me ''It's very elegant and the lace detail makes it sensual. You're definitely trying it on''

I take a closer look at the dress I picked out on random. It's certainly cute, off shoulder, midi, black with lace but tight as hell

''Isn't it way too tight? I think it's gonna accentuate every single bloated part of my body''

''Try it out you have nothing to lose. Besides the party is in 5 days, you have plenty of time to search for a dress''

''There's no way I'm going through this again. It's either today or I'm coming wearing my Pjs'' I announce and make my way to the fitting rooms determined. I can hear Susan mumbling a few curses, probably blaming me for being grumpy and stubborn.

''Excuse me'' an assistant approaches us

''There's only one fitting room available. I'm afraid you have to wait for a while''

''No problem, Susan you go first''

''Are you sure?''

I nod and sit in the comfortable blue chair that matches the rest of the decoration and furnishings of the store.

This showroom is excellently designed, the minimal yet eccentric blue décor casts an air of originality as the majority of stores follow a consistent pattern. No wonder it's Susan's favorite showroom, modern decor, excellent service and the clothing here is feminine, figure-friendly just like the dress I'm holding.

I'm so absorbed in gaping at the interior decoration that I don't notice my friend standing in front of me.

''Hey, earth to Skye'' she wiggles her fingers in front of my face

''Sorry'' I take my time studying her figure. ''I really like it. It's ideal for your body type and the colour is gorgeous''

The violet silk dress looks perfect on her, the semi tight fit shows up her toned silhouette, the swarovski embellished spaghetti straps together with the V neck flaunt her beautiful collarbones.

''I think it looks lovely too'' the cheerful, helpful assistant comments

''Yeah I like it'' she stares at the mirror

''You can use that fitting room'' the girl gestures at an empty room smiling. How are they always so kind and happy?''It's free now''

''Thank you'' I smile back and give a long sigh standing up from the soft chair.

Reluctantly I undress myself and wear the cute midi dress. It's tight but not as much as I expected. Well it's not that bad after all, I still need Susan's opinion though and a closer look in the big mirror. A few seconds later I'm out and heading for the mirror.

''Wow'' Susan talks ''It looks... stunning''

The dress hugs my body flawlessly, emphazising my curves. The off-shoulder design is very cute but sexy at the same time because my cleavage is shown off perfectly and I'm not even wearing a push up bra. I never thought I'd look that attractive in a dress.

''It fits you like a dream. You're definitely buying it'' Susan insistsand the assistant agrees

It's elegant yet sexy. Sexy in a non provocative way since it shows off only the right places.

''I think I'm getting this one'' I finally decide and Susan winks excitedly

''Hurry up we have to go for heels as well''

''Heels? Ha''  A humorless laugh leaves my lips

''You're laughing? What are you planning to wear with this dress then?'' she crosses her arms.

Her question catches me off guard but I act cool ''Flats? I don't care, anything but heels''

She laughs sarcastic lifting a shaped eyebrow ''Flats? If you plan to wear flat shoes on my husband's party I inform you that you're not invited''

I simply pout, my eyes pleading for mercy

''Come on Skye it's a party, a bussines kinda party you don't have to walk or dance. You can deal with heels under these circumstances I'm sure''

''Okay'' I sigh defeated meeting her gaze. There's no point in agruing, she's right I need heels with the apparel I chose.

''Hurry up then'' she scolds and enters the fitting room.

Have I mentioned how much I hate shopping with my best friend?